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THE
PENNY M
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co
OF
THE SOCIETY
FOR THE
DIFFUSION OF USEFUL KNOWLEDGE.
1837.
LONDON:
CHARLES KNIGHT & CO., 22, LUDGATE STREET.
Price 6s, in Twelve Monthly Parts, and 7s. 6d, bound in Ctoth,
COMMITTEE.
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Inn Fields.
eaten
London : Printed by Witntam Crowes and Sons, Stamford Street? >
INDEX TO VOLUME VI.
ADELSBERG, grotto of, 11-13 Elvag, city of, account of the, 316, 344,
Albany, account of the city of, m the] 345
oe of New York, 169 x Engelbert of Nassau, and his tomb at
Alderney, island of, some account of} Breda, 303°
the; 383 English Lakes, descriptive tours of the,
Alemtejo, province of, in tle Penin-| 241—248; 289—296 m
sula, 396 English Orders of Knighthood, 78
American Forests, general description] Epeée, abbe de 1’, xccount of, 286
of, 454; fires in, occasioned by the
settlers, 466 :
Antar, an Arabian Romance, account
of, 59
Apple-paring, custom of, in America,
description of, 426
Artisans, development of intellectnal
tastes amongst, 483
Attainments, desirable objects of, 343
Australia, emigration to, 372 :
Automaton Chess-player, account of, 28
« ° ° e ®
FAcToRIES, principles which determine
the hours of work in, 478
FisHERIEs, BrivisH, the Herring, 43—
46; mode of taking and curing, 51 —
54; commerce in, 61—64; the Pil-
ehard, 68—69; commercial history
of, 81—84; the Sprat, 97; the Mac-
kerel, 108 —~—110; its commercial his-
tory, 128—125; the Salmon, 144—
148; various modes of fishing for, 172
—175; commercial history of, 189;
the Shrimp, 217; the Oyster, 235—
238; the Crab, 321—326; the Tur-
Bapasoz, city of, account of the, 385 ,
fee a bot, 391; the Mullet, 465
Baltic, change of the water levelin the,
496 Fishing in North America, by Indians
Barcelona, city of, account of the, 471, and scttlers, 193, 209
48¥ Fishing, Trout, in the Backwoods, 340
Fish poisoning in the West Indies, 370
bear, black, anecdotes of, 14 Food, supply of large capitals with, 1,
Bear hunting in Lithnania, 27 9, 19, 30° ;
Beggars and Begging in America, 322 | Forest, the New, account of, 266
Belem Castle, description of, 257 Forests of America, 454; fires in the,
Bears, sagacity of the northern, 375;
Berlin, manners and mode of living in,} 466 ;
319 é Forests, and meadow and pasture land
Birds, on the wings and tails of, 132,] in Europe, 356 —
154, 180 : Forests of the Peninsula, 364
Births and Deaths, registration of, in| France, savages in, 22] |
the Prussian States, 393 Fur-trading with the indians of North
Blind, education for the, 363 America. 303
Bookselling, early history of, 359
Breathing, quantity of air employed in, GALONGooN, volcano of, in Java, erup-
300 : tion of the, 43]
Buffalo, town of, in America, rapid/Gardening, pleasures of, 327
| growth of it and other American|Geographical knowledge, progress of,
r towns, 85 278
Bull Hunt in Poland ; bull-hunting in|Geography, study of, and topography,
the Peninsula, 104 o)
Glasgow, Royal Exchange of, account
Czsar, Julius, landing of, in England, 303 new Broomielaw Bridge of,
101
Cairo, curious ceremony at, 47 Glutton, the, natural history of, 17
Canton, Ophthalmic Hospital at, in-| Gnu, the, natural history of, 433
stituted by an Amcrican physician,|Goldberg, in Silesia, celebration of
account of, 262 Christmas at, 451
Canute and his Courtiers, 376 Grebes, the, natural history of, 212
Caripe, cavern of, in the province of|Groden, wood earving at, 107
Cumana, visit to, account of, 354,365] Guernsey, islaud of, description of the,
Carriages, primitive, sketch of the ori-| 377
vin of, 275 Gutenberg, statue of, at Mayence, 501;
Cat, the wild, natural history of, 60 bas-reliefs of, 504
Cavaliero, adventures of, in i gypt and :
meerria, 90, 102, 210, 222
Channel Islands, history and descrip-
_ tion of the, 329—336; 337—354
Chinchilla, the natural history of, 297
Chippeway Indians on the banks of| of stages and distances in, 207, 208
the St. Clair, 153 Hofer, Andrew, monument to, 56
Cicada Septendecim, account of the, 87} Houses, American manner of moving,
Clairvaulx, a visit to, 238 6
Ciimate of Canada and the United
_ States, peculiarities of, 258 Ice-MAKING in Bengal, 107
Coati, the, natural history of, 7 Idria, quicksilver mines at, 442
Constantinople, prisons of, 488; chari-| Indian Sumnier, account of the, 362
__table establishments at, 496 Indians of Guiana, adventure amongst
opyrizht, extract from a speech of Mr.| the, 486
_ Serjeant Talfourd on the law of, 235 | Intellect, value of the, 134'
Corain, Captain Thomas, the founder|Jamaica, minerals in, 387
of the Youndling Hospital, account! Jerboa, the, natural history of, 412
of, 479 Jersey, account of, 329—336.
Cornaro, the modern, account of, 368
Crab, the, natural and commercial his-| KNARESBOROUGH, dropping well of, 348
_ tory of, 324 Knighthood, orders of, 22—24; 70; 78
Cuckoo, account of a young, 475 ie ge Teutonic order of, history
of, 255
Kyrle, John, the “Man of Ross,” ac-
count of, 428
HERRING, the, natural and commercial
history of, 43,51, 61
Wighlands of Scotland, descriptive
tour in, 161—168; 201—-208: table
Dear and Dumb, education of the, 286
Dean, the forest of, account of, 215, 218
Vesigu, school of, 230
Diet, essays on, 135, 142, 148, 159
Dinotherium, the, account of’ the fossil i
_remaius of, 195
te aud the duration of sickness,
3
Dog, reasoning in a, 486
Douro, the river, description of, 425
the, 318
the, 241 —248 ; 289—996
the, 230—232
Lawrence, St., the river, 219
Lecch Fishery, 490
Lincisfarn, or Holy Island, account of,
282 ;
Lisbon, its characteristics, description
of, &c., 268, 273, 285
Economy, English, comparison of with;
_ that of America, 5
’ducation, extract from Lord Broug.
ham’s speech on, 315 Lithuania, bear hnnting in, 27
+88, consumption of, 359 Loan
yptian Death Judgment, ancient,| Loire
Inférieur, peasants in the de-
account of, 388
partment of the, 359
hero in, 90, 102, 210, 222 ane
LABOURING GLASSES, improvement of
nistration of justice, 49—51; Central
Criminal Court, 58—60; the Law
Courts, 65—67; legislation and go-
vernment, 73—78; fire insurance,
supply of water, gas, paving, sewer-
age, &c., 89, 99; external and inter-
nal communication, 118—129; inns,
hotels, and public .honses, 129; the
clubs, 137; the court, 157; court
drawing-rooms, 179; commerce, the
Bank of England, 177; the Royal
Exchange, 184; the river and port,
227, 233; the docks, 251; trade in
the “city,” 260; at the “ west-end,”
231; markets—Smithfield, Billings-
gate, 307; Covent Garden, 321; mia-
hufactures—Spitalfields and the Bo-
rough, 393; Bermondsey and Tooley
Street, 404; public worship and edu-
cational charities, 417—424; royal
visits to the City of London, 438; fu-
nerals and cemeteries, 444; the
bridges, 449; Sir John Soane’s House
and Museum in Lincoln’s Inn Fields,
457—464; amusements—-the theatres,
473; Zoological Gardens, and na.
tional collections, 484: Public
Walks—St. James’s Park, 492; Lon-
don Extremes—Fyde Park and Rag
Fair, 497,500 ; Literature—Paternos-
ter Row, 508
Lyre-Bird, the, natural history of, 32
MACKEREL, the, natural und commer-
cial history of, 108
Mamelukes, massacre of the, by Mo-
hammed Ali, 225 ;
Manufactures, domestic: the factory
system, &c., 94
Menai, an‘island in the, account of,
AQ5
Mendicancy in Ireland, 477
Miana, poisonous bugs of, 310
Monreale, in Sicily, abbey of, account
of, 249
Montyon, M. de, founder of the Society
for the Public Reward of Merit, 369
Mullet, the, natural and commercial
history of, 469
Mumming, account of, 47]
Museums, free admission of the public
to, 46
NaAPpoueon’s Wardrobe, 372
Nature, adaptive powers of, 408~
Neptune, grotto of, at Tivoli, 28
Newspapers in India and China, 299
Nijnei Novgorod, the fair of, 125, 144
Northumberland Peasantry, character-
istics of, 5
Northumbrian Manners and Customs,
301 ”
OvsTEr, the, natural and commercial
history of, 235
Paris, markets of, 1, 9, 19, 30
PENINSULA, SKETCHES OF THE: Belem
Castle, 257; Lisbon, 268; general
appearance of Lisbon, 273, 285;
Smuggling in the Peninsula, 300;
the city of Elvas, 316; Market Place
of, 344; Moorish Aquednect in Elvas,
345; Forests of the Peninsula, 364;
City of Badajoz, $85; the Province
of Alemtejo, 396; the Douro, 425;
Valley of Setubal, 441 ; City of Bar-
celona, $71,482; Bull Hunting, 489
Philosophical Experiments, account of
some, easy to be performed, 19)
Physiological Facts, practical applica-
tion of, 270
Pigeon Roosts in America, 4
Pilgrims in the Desert, 305
Podargus Papuensis, the, natural his-
tory of, 105
Portsmouth, description of, 140
akes, English, descriptive tours of} Post-Office, its extension and improve-
ment, 277
‘Lakes of North America, account of|Printing in the 15th and in the 19th
Centuries, 501—508
Pnblic Walks at Hull, 107
Public Instruction—the Charity-School
System, 349
Punishments, obsolete, 333
QUEBEC, account of, 2919—291 ~
442
India, account of, 388
Reapers in the Pontine Marshes, uc-
count of, 337
Records, state of the, 1
Rome, fountains at, 4] .
te Santa, festival of, account of
40)
Ross, the Man of, account of, 428
Poe Visits to the. City of London,
Russia, account of the Baltic or Ger
man provinces of, 175, 182
SALMON, the, natural and commercial}
history of, 144, 172, 189
Scenery, luke and river, difference be-
pees sceing, from land and water
162
School Houses, state of, 42
Scotland, descriptive tour in the High-
lands of, 161—168: 201—2u8
Sea, a month at: narrative of a vovage
from New York to Liverpool, 393,
405, 414, 499
Secret Societies, or Fraternities, ac-
count of, 199
Secret Tribunals of Westphalia, 239
Selinuntum, now called Selinunte, ruins
of, 84
Serk, island of, account of the, 381
Serpent-charming, account of, 150
Setubal, the valley of, account ot, 441-
Shakers, society of, in the United States,
445 ,
Shrimp, the, natural ‘ane commercial
history of, 217
Sicily—Festival of Santa Rosalia, ac-
count ot the, 409
Silla de Caraccas, the, in South Ame-
rica, ascents of, 403
Singing Boys, press-warrant for, 43
Skunk, the, natural history of, 357
Sleighs and Sleighing Frolics, 3165
Smugyling in the Pennisula, 300
Speaking, extemporancons, 363
Sporting in Germany, 25y
Sprat, the, natural and commercial liis-
tory of, 97
Squirrels, black and grey, anecdotes
of, 265
Stage Costume, history of, 107
Sone, Sir John, house aud mnseum of,
437 —464
Statistics of Lunacy and Crime iu an
Agricultural and a Manniacturing
District, 351
St. Petersburg, Ice Palace at, account:
of, 451
Sutherland, mountains of, 163
TEETH, on the structure of the, 468, 475
Teutonic Order of Kuighthood, history
of, 255
Timber, manner of conveying to mai-
ket, 374
Tivoli, grotto of Neptune at, 28
is and Tourists, hints for and to,.
Tunis and Tripoli, 494
Turbot, the, natural and commercial:
history of, 391 .
ee of Non and Sole in the;.
Unrrep States, observations on the
origin of names of places in the, 493.
Useful Men, socicty for publishing
memoirs and portraits of, 369
VENTILATION, of Houses, 54
Victoria, her Majesty the Queen, linea}
descent of, 264
WAKES, country, account of, 311
Walrus, the, natural history of, 313
Wax, sealing, manufacture of, account |
of the, 435
Weasel, the, daring and ferocity of, 127
Weymouth, account of, 121
Wheat, culture of, within the Tropics,
some description of, 386
Wolf.céatching in Norway, 47
Wooden Houses, and the manner of
building them, in America, 437
Wordsworth’s * A Fact and an Imagi-
nation,” 376
Wren, golden-crested, the, 487
Writing, limplements of, in the East,
339
Societies in the Metropolis, 212 | Quicksilver, mines at Idria, in Austria,| YANKEE Pedlars, and Peddling in Ames
rica, 269
be)
“GyPt and Syria, adventures of Cava-| Lowpon, Looxina-Grass For: its mu-| RaMoosstEs, one of the mixed castes of] Zoar, colony of, in the United States,
nicipal regulations, 34—40; admi-|
account of the, 411
LIST OF {LLUSTRATIONS.
NATURAL AND COMMERCIAL HISTORY OF BRITISH FISHERIES.
THe Hernrine.
Beaeh at Yarmouth—Fishermen
going out
Herring—Cluped harengus
Yarmouth Jetty—Herring Boats
returned . :
Yaimeuth Beaeh Cart
Tne PILCHARD.
Pilchard—Clupea pilchardus
Mount's Bay, Cornwall
THe SPRAT,
Sprat—Clupca sprattus
The Mansion House and City Po-
liee
Bow Street, and “the Assembling
of the Police y
The Old Bailey—Sheriffs going to
the Court 8
Westminster Fkall ae tlie Coulee
of Law &.
Parliament Stroctaabeeaeeran to
the Huuses of Parliament
Baek of the Horse Guards and the
Admiralty :
Fish Street Hill, with procession
,. of Firemen .
e e
s
Belem Castle §,
Lisbon—Convent of St, V Se di
}k Ora °
Praga do Commer cio
Smuggling—Contrabandistas
View of Gleneoe | ° A
View of Derwent!Water
SERSEY— View of Fort Regent
———— Mont Orguiel Castle—
Wemen gathering Sea-weed
The Coati-mondi oe a
The Glutton and Rein "Deer
The Wild Cat
The’ Male and Female "Lyre- -Bird 92] Wing of the Magpie
The Podargus Papuensis .
Bones of the Wings of Birds
Wing of the Common Buzzard
Panits—Marehé des Innoeens
Marehe a la Volaille
Market for butter, eg
and eheese .
—— Fountain in the Plaee Al
Chiatelet . ,
View of the entrance of the Cavern
of Adelsberg .
Grotto of the mended at * A@eler
berg °
Falls a tlie Bio e Tivoli °
Rome—Fountain of Paul V.
Ceremony of the Do’seh, or Tread-
ing
Monument to Andrew Hofer. °
Collar of the Order of the Garter .
Collar of the Order of St. An-
drew
Collar of the Order of St. Patrick.
Ruins of Selinuntum ,
Landing of Julius Cesar | in Eng-
lana
Woynouth—Bridge and Chur ch ,
Page
97
72
80
80|Cape Diamond, and the Lower
84
. 104
121| Map of the North American Lakes 232
Page
Sprat Boat fishing off Purfleet on
193| Obsolete Punishments—The Wood-
River Thames, Upper Ganada
en Horse
fishing in the
ice—Lighthouse on the Shores
of Lake Eluron inthe Distanee . 209
tien The frat k-
ard’s Cloak
_— The Whirli-
e 990
the
aa 43)
pig.
Knatesborough—Dropping Well.
Tomb ot Engelbert of Nassau in
the Cathedral Chureh of Breda
Town of Quebee
Mohammed Ali witnessing
massaere of the Mamelttkes
Pag
Crew ofa French Boat angling for
. 338
» doo
THe Tursor.
FDA Page
Fishing Boats off Searborough
e 392
» 44| the Thames . , ° . 97] Maekerel ° . ‘ - 124 THe Muuuer.
451 4 Fishin g Boat off St. Alban’s Head 465 =
THe MAcKEREL. THE SALMON. CRUSTACEA AND MOLLUSsKs.
~ 52] Mackerel—Scomber scombrus . 108{Salmou Spearing - ° « 145;A Shrimper ° ‘ ° i
» 53!Mackerel Boats in the Bay of Ova and Fry of Salmon . . 147)Oyster Dredger . : « 236
Hastings—Beaehy Head in the Salmou—Salmo salar . : « 148] Fleet of Oyster Boats . ‘ « 237
~» 68; Distance « 109) Coleraine Salmon Leap on the Crab Fishing — Fishermen examin-
, 81! Duteh Auetion—Fishermen selling Bann—Angling for Salmon , 172} ing their Creels or Crab-pots . 324
Maekerel on the Beach at Hast- |Stage and Stake Nets . ° - 173}Implements employed in Crab
« 97] ings ; ‘ ‘ ‘ : 125) Spearing or Stream Fishing » 157; Fishing . ‘ ‘ . » 325
A LOOKING-GLASS FOR LONDON.
Fleet Street—proeession of Mail The London Doeks . . 253{The Strand, and Funeral Pro-
33} Coaehes . , ° : . 113] Ludgate Street, from St. Paul’s . 261} eession . . 444
Holborn and Omnibuses . + eb Regent Street, from the Quadrant 281] London, from the York Colestin » 449
36] Bishopsyate Street and Short Smithfield Cattle Market. . 308] Exterior of Sir John Soane’s House
Stages . « 120)Covent Garden Market> . « 321) in Lineoln’s Inu Fields . . 457
49|The Old Blue Baur Halvoun - 128] Tigh Street—Borough - . 393 Interior of Sir John Soane’s Mu-
Pall Mall and Club Ekouses . 146] Tooley Street, with Drays . - 405; seum ; . 461
65} St. James’s Street—procession on Chapel Royal, Whitehall. . 417) Covent Garden Theatre 2 se
a State Drawiny-room Day . 157} Oxford Street—Sunday : « 420) Zuologieal Gardens, Regent's Park 484
73| The Bank of England : . 176} Cheapside—Sehool Children going St: James’s Park : : » 492
The Royal Exehange . ‘ . 184) to St. Pam's. 424; Hyde Park on iicish ° « 497
7iVhe Custom House. . 229] Triumphal Areh at the Queen's Rag Fair. ° . 500
The River—* Upper Pool ”’ . Wary Palaec , ° ‘ . « 440) Paternoster Row, e ° - 508
« 89] Map of the River and Port . 252
SKETCHES IN THE PENINSULA.
« 257|Elvas, Praca or Square : - 317| Castle of Badajoz : Z . 385| Palaee of Bareelona ~. : « 472
Market Plaee : . 344) Gathering Olives ‘ . 397) Barcelona—Chureh of Santa Maria
. 269|——-— Moorish Aqueduet . . 345] St. Joao da Fou « : : . 425, del Mar . ; : . 481
. 273! Cork Forest at Moira . F . 364) Valley of Setubal ‘ : . 441) Wild Bull Ilunting =. é - 489
« 300
HIGHLANDS OF SCOTLAND.
e 16] Distant View of Loch Awe . 165 | View a Loeh Katrine—The Te sod View of Loeh Leven , ° . 204
sae 18 e e e e
_ THE ENGLISH LAKES.
O41 | View of Windermere. : . 244] Skiddaw, from Lake Derwent Fall on the Brook whieh runs frem
Water . ; . , - 289} Sty Head Tarn : . . 293
THE CHANNEL ISLANDS.
, 329! Jersev—St. Brelade’s Chureh . 333] Guernsey—Town and Harbour Serx—The Coupée Rock . 38t
GurerNsEY—Castle Cornet, St, of St. Peter’s Port . ° « 380 | ALDERNEY—View of . . » 384
« 332 .. Peters Port e 2 e 20
NATURAL HISTORY.
« '8| Wing of a Curlew 5 « 133] Professor Kaup’s restoration of Di- Black and Grey Squirrels : . 963
» 17]Wings of Sparrow. Grosbeak, and notherium Giganteum —. 196] Male and Female Chinchillas with
- 60 Chaffineh : : ‘ . 155)Skull of Dinotherium, 1A cal their Young. . ‘ , 297
‘ » 195) in 1836 ; : . 197|Walruses . F : ' . os
. 105) Wing ofthe Jaeana . « 155] Grebes : » 213)/The Skunk ; ; ' alti
, 182|Tailsof Birds. ¢ 180, 181, 182] Foot of the Male- ‘eared Grebe , 213) Jerbous . : , : 2 43
us * 133 Herd of Gnus ss, ; ; . 443
MISCELLANEOUS.
> °1)Portsmouth—entrance to the Har- Sieily—Monastery of Monreale . 249! Modern Fevptian Writing Case
.” Of bour : . . : : Car of Santa Rosalia . 409| and Instruments : ~ 360
us, — Lion Gate, Portsea . 141/Primitive Carriages—Cars of Por- Persian Instruments of Writing . 360
20} Indian Serpent Charmers . . 152} tugal aud Chile : » 276' Glasgow—Royal Exchange » 36t
Seene on the River St. Clair, —___—--— Ox Wart of | ____ R oemielie Bridge 73
95| Upper Canada : ; . 153} the Pampas. » 276| Montyon and Franklin : «bee
Albany, State of New York « 169|-————_ Welsh agri- Canute reproving his Flatterers . 376
12\Garriek as Macbeth . : 188) eultnral Cart . . 276)Aucient Egyptian Death Judg-
Stage Costume of Comus, in 1752 188) Anglo-Saxon Map of the 10th Cen- ment : é ; . 388
<n S of Mourning Bride tury 5 250 Scales . . 339
» 28! in 1752 , 188| Ruins of the Priory of Lindisfarn . 284) Tyrol, valley of the Non - 401
- 48 Philosophieal Experiments, figs. i Portrait of the Abbe de PEpee 288} Portrait of the “ Man of Ross’? . 4/8 —
to 8 . 191, 192|Pilgrims in the Desert . 305; Tee Palace, St. Petersherg . my; |
48| Chippeway Indians fishing on qe Gleaners of the Pontine Marshes . 337| Ice Elephant and Fountain . 153 8
lllustratious of the Strueture of the |
Teeth, various figures 468, 476
Captain Thomas Coram, portrait
of : . 480
Gutenberg, statue of, at Mayence,. 501
, 340! Bas-relief of Gutenberg—Examin- ’
504
349) Ing a Matrix. ° °
—= Compar-
353! ing a printed Sheet with MS. . 504
THE PENNY MAGA?
OF THE
Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge,
306. _ PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. (January 7, 1837,
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[ Marché des Innocens, Paris. |
Sr ccreri nag, oe eg have Pe a the Soca? | Tnnocents, which was demolished about fifty years ago.
nent, dud ei Pe oeeco'D™epced with the next Sup= Formerly it was not included within the walls of Paris,
Jlement, and will be continued weekly. We have previously to ee.
dispose of a few articles connected with Paris, which would other- but it is now in the centre of the northern quarter ot
wise have interfered with the regular progress of the series of the capital. The cemetery having been used as a depo-
London. The following is one of these;—but we have taken sitory for the dead for so long a period as $00 years, be-
occasion to make it the vehicle of some general information, came, in consequence of the increase of the surrounding
which applies to matters common to both capitals.]
population, unfit for the numerous interments, though
Tur Marché des [nnocens occupies the site of the | it was not until the practice had been a subject of com-
ancient burial-ground of the church dedicated to the | plaint for many years that the authorities determined
Vou. VI, B
2 THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
upon its remedy. In 1786, however, the church was
taken down, and men were employed during the night
for the space of several months in removing: the relics
of the dead. ‘lhe exhalations which ensued on opening:
the graves occasioned much disease in this populons
quarter. When the work was completed, fresh earth was
brought to the place, the vacant ground was paved,
and it was converted into a market for fruit and vege-
tables. In 1813 a wooden arcade or gallery was erected
on each side of the market, for the convenience of the
retail dealers who attend during the day.
The fountain in the centre of the market was formerly
placed at the angle formed by the Rue St. Denis and
the Rue aux Fers, and having been executed in the year
1551, in the best style of that day, is an interesting
specimen of the sculpture of the sixteenth century.
The parts were carefully taken down, and in the re-
construction a fourth arcade was added, so as to give it
a quadrangular form. The architect employed stone
from the same quarry, and by intersecting the old
pieces with the new, the general character and appear-
auce of the whole was preserved. The Corinthian
pilasters are surmounted by a pediment ornamented
with nalads and bas-reliefs. ‘The lions were placed at
a subsequent period, and resemble those of the fountain
of ‘Termini at Rome. The cupola is covered with scales
of copper. The height from the ground to the top of
the cupola is forty-two feet. In the interior, on an
elegant pedestal, is a large vase, from which the water
ascends and falls into four large vessels, and from
thence into the lower basin which surrounds the whole.
A reference to the engraving will convey a better idea
of the design than any description. ;
Formerly each class of dealers and each neighbouring
town had its particular market-place in Paris; but this
was before trade and commerce began to be considered
of much consequence, and such a useless regulation has
long ago become obsolete. There are now a number
of large and well-arranged markets in different parts of
Paris. The Marché des Jnnocens is the most important,
from its situation in the midst of a dense population ;
and it also covers the largest quantity of ground.
Hence it is generally called the halle, by way of dis-
tinction. ‘There are several markets very near to the
halle, and the Emperor Napoleon formed a desien of
uniting them in a square of above one hundred acres,
which would have included the Halle anx Blés. The
Marché des Innocens is clean and well regulated, and
the same may be said of the other principal markets in
Paris. The Marché 4 la Viande is perhaps the least so
of any; though, as the cattle markets are held at Sceaux
and Poissy, both at the distance of several miles from
Paris ; and all cattle are slaughtered at the public abat-
toirs in the outskirts of the capital, there is every circum-
stance which can obviate such a state of things; except
perhaps that meat is not so well adapted for sale in a
public market open only at certain hours, but preserves
its appearance, and is altogether better when brought at
once from the slaughter-house to the butcher’s shop.
The late Mr. Walker, one of the police magistrates
of London, in a pamphlet on the Poor Laws, published
a few years ago, drew attention to the influence of
badly-arranged places where great numbers assemble,
on the classes who resort to them. Covent Garden
Market, which was represented in Hogarth’s print
of “Morning, seventy years back, had lone been a
disgrace to the metropolis, and it is only within the
last few years, and indeed since Mr. Walker’s remarks
were published, that it has undergone the improvements
of which such a place was susceptible. Mr. Walker’s
observations were as follows: —*‘ It is to be wished that
every portion of the labonring classes were too refined
for the filth of Covent Garden, or the brutalities of
Smithtield, ‘The evil here lies in the bad contrivance
[JaNuaARY 7,
and arrangement of these places of public concernment.
It is surely a great error to spend nearly a million of
money on a penitentiary, whilst the hotbeds of vice
from which it is filled are wholly unattended to. What
must necessarily be the moral state of the numerous
class, constantly exposed to the changes of the weather,
amidst the mud and putridities of Covent Garden ?
What ought it to be where the occupation is amongst
vegetables, fruits, and flowers, if there were well-regu-
lated accommodations. As for Smithfield, it is only ne-
cessary to witness its horrors during the night and
morning of a market, to be convinced of its corrupting
effects, and without witnessing, description can scarcely
be adequate.’ Such improvements as the removal of
the Fleet Market not only promote comfort, but have a
real moral influence. ‘There are still parts of the me-
tropolis, which, owing to the want of a market, are
crowded with a confused mass of buyers and sellers, in
a manner both inconvenient and disagreeable.
A visiter who sojourns at Paris for a few days only,
as is the case with many of our countrymen, could take
no better means of making himself acquainted with the
appearance of the French peasantry, and the perfection
and variety to which garden culture has attained in
France, than by paying a visit to the Marché des
Innocens. Saturday should be the day selected for
this purpose; the month of September is the season in
which there is the greatest variety of fruit; and from
three o'clock in the morning till the opening of the
market at four o’clock is the most interesting time.
During the day the market is occupied by the women of
the halle or town dealers, as the wholesale market is over
in a few hours, and the country people have taken their
departure before eight o'clock. ‘The market then be-
comes encumbered with refuse vegetables, and the ap-
pearance is altogether different from that which it pre-
sents when the business of the day commences.
It is computed that 6000 peasants attend the Marche
des Innocens every day, many of whom come from a
distance of thirty or forty miles. A London hairdresser,
or a waiter at an hotel, does not greatly differ in ap-
pearance from those who pursue a similar vocation in
Paris; but the cultivator of the soil, or the country
labourer, present peculiarities of manners and appear-
ance which are not obliterated by the intercourse of
capitals, and the light in which they are exhibited is
more interesting to a stranger. It will soon be evident,
from the class of persons who attend the Marché des
Innocens, that the tenure of landed property in France
is very different from that which prevails in Eneland.
Instead of the team of fine cattle, attended by the ser-
vants of the market-gardener, who rents the well-culti-
vated grounds in the neighbourhood of the capital, for
which he can afford to pay the landowner an enormous
rent, the produce is brought to the Paris market by the
landowner himself, who, with his family, and perhaps a
labourer, cultivate a few acres of some large estate
which was divided at the Revolution, and sold as na-
tional property. It is the great ambition of the middle
and humbler classes in France to possess property in
land, and it is accordingly cultivated in small patches
by the proprietor. ‘This is not the place for discussing
the advantages or disadvantages of such a system, but
its prevalence will strike the most indifferent observer
who pays a visit to any great market in France*, The
man and his wife, and perliaps a son or daughter, set
out with their produce in a covered cart on the previous
afternoon, and travel during the night. From mid-
night until the hour when the market opens, the arrivals
* The ‘Penny Magazine,’ No. 304, contains a paragraph from
M‘Culloch’s ‘ Statistical Account of the British Empire,’ which
will correct the erroneous notions entertained even by many most
intelligent persons, that landed property in this country 1s pos-
| sessed only or chiefly in large masses,
1837.]
are incessant. During their absence one or two chil-
dren, with their grandfather or grandmother, take care
of the house, and attend to the garden, the live stock,
and poultry. Many women ride to the market on
horseback, with their produce contained in large pan-
niers, leaving’ their husbands to pursue their labours.
Neither the vehicles nor animals display that peculiar
neatness which distinguishes those which belong to an
Enelish markét-gardener, but they have a certain pic-
turesque air; and the wretched “ set-out” of the cos-
termonger is certainly not paralleled in the Paris
market. About an hour before the commencement of
business the scene is very peculiar and striking, and
presents something like the appearance of a bivouac;
the men, wrapped in their coarse cloaks by the side of
their hampers and panniers, endeavouring to snatch a
few moments of sleep before business commences; or
groups of half-a-dozen, havine banished all idea of re-
pose, are enjoying the interval in conversation. When
the market-bell rings at four o’clock a scene of great
animation ensues; and in the early dawn, the women
in their white and singular caps, suddenly aroused to a
state of the greatest activity, and descanting with volu-
bility on the excellence of their produce, form one of its
most striking features. All the retail dealers in fruit.
and vegetables are in attendance, and many private
families, whose. consumption is large, send an expe-
rienced servant to make purchases at this hour, as the
opeu market is far more economical than the shop, and
the choice much greater. The interest of the scene
continues for two or three hours.
The Parisians are more cheaply supplied with fruit
and vegetables than the inhabitants of London. They
live less substantially, but upon a greater variety of
articles. ‘The division of landed property conduces
to this state of things, as the rearing of poultry, the
cultivation of fruit and vegetables, is of more import-
ance to the proprietor of a few acres: than it is to
a large tenant farmer. ‘There is less encouragement
to force fruit and vegetables to an early maturity in
Paris than in London; and there does not exist a class
whose interest would consist in supplying an artificial
luxury at a great cost. It is the object of the small
cultivator to provide for the general consumption of the
mass, and nof requiring the aid of expensive artificial
processes, he works with the assistance of nature, and
employs art ofa simpler and less expensive kind.
In the ‘ Introductory Lectures on Political Economy,’
by Dr. Whately, Archbishop of Dublin, there are some
observations on the wonderful combination of exertions
which are necessary to ensure the daily supplies of food
for a large city; and yet, as he remarks, “ many of the
most important objects are accomplished by the joint
agency of persons who never think of:them, nor have any
idea of acting in concert; and that, with a certainty,
completeness, and regularity, which probably the most
diligent benevolence, under the guidance of the greatest
human wisdom, could never have attained.” ‘This sub-
ject is indeed one of great interest, and Dr. Whately is
of opinion that “if the time should ever arrive when
the structure of human society, and all the phenomena
connected with it, shall be as well understood as astro-
nomy and physiology, it will be regarded as exhibiting
even more striking instances of Divine wisdom.” It is
by the efforts which each man makes for the advance-
ment of his own interest that society is kept together,
and the general weal promoted ; and if these efforts
were relaxed, though only for a short space of time,
the most frightful consequences wonld immediately
ensue. The moral effects produced by the sudden
fluctuation from abundance to scarcity and desolation,
which is one of the most general consequences of war,
were pointed out by Thucydides above 2000 years ago,
in the following terms:—*“ In peace and prosperity Che
THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 3
says) men are better disposed, from their not being
driven into distressing difficulties ; but war is a severe
instructor; and depriving them of the abundant supply
of their daily wants, tends to make the moral character
of the generality conformable to the existing state of
things.” ‘Thus public arrangements, which seem only
to have reference to the general convenience, or are
intended to facilitate some manual operation, while
subservient to their most apparent end, exercise at the
same time an influence on manners, morals, and th
intellectual character. |
A New Zealander who visited England felt much
curiosity as to the means by which London was sup-
plied with provisions. The small degree of interest
which is generally taken in subjects of this nature
arises from the perfect recularity with which the wants
of the population are met ; but if any irrecularity were
to take place in the supply for a single day, it would be
felt as one of the most important which could present
itself to the statesman and economist. Happily, this is
a subject which, in this country, never forces itself upon
the ruling power, so as to occasion it to step into the
place which the general trader ought freely to occupy.
The following extract from the ‘ Lecture’ by Dr.Whately,
to which allusion has been made, exhibits the import-
ance of the question in‘an interesting point of view:
—‘* Let any one,’ he says, “propose to himself the
problem of snpplying with daily provisions of all kinds
such a city as our metropolis, containing above 1,000,000
of inhabitants. Any considerable failure in the supply,
even for a single day, might produce the most frightful
distress ;—since the spot on which they are cantoned
produces absolutely nothing. Some, indeed, of the arti-
cles consumed admit of being reserved in public or private
stores for a considerable time; but many, including most
articles of animal food, and many of vegetable, are of the
most perishable nature. As a deficient supply of these,
even for a few days, would occasion great inconvenience,
so a redundancy of them would produce a corresponding:
waste. Moreover, it is essential that the supplies should
be distributed among the different quarters, so as to be
brought almost to the doors of the inhabitants ; at least
within such a distance that they may, without an in-
convenient waste of time and labour, procure their daily
shares. Moreover, whereas the supply of provisions
for an army or garrison is comparatively uniform in
kind, here the greatest possible variety is required,
suitable to the wants of various classes of consumers.
Again, this immense population is extremely fluctuating
in numbers; and the increase or diminution depends on
causes, of which, though some may, others cannot, be
distinctly foreseen. Lastly, and above all, the daily
supplies of each article must be as nicely adjusted to
the stock from which it 1s drawn—to the scanty, or
more or less abundant, harvest—importation—or other
source of supply—to the interval which is to elapse
before a fresh stock can be furnished, and to the pro-
bable abundance of the new supply, that as little distress
as possible may be undergone ;—that, on the one hand,
the population may not unnecessarily be put upon short
allowance of any article, and that, on the other hand,
they may be preserved from the more dreadful risk of
famine, which would ensue from their continuing a free
consumption when the store was insufficient to hold
out.”
After remarking that the anxious toil of the most in-
telligent commissaries would very inadequately dis-
charge the office of supplying a large city with provi-
sions, he shows that, through the agency of men who
think each of nothing beyond their own immediate in-
terest, the object is effected with cheerful zeal, and in
the most successful manner. ‘“* Kach of them,” he
adds, ‘* watches attentively the demands of his neigh-
bourhood, or of the market he frequents, for such com-
B 2
A THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
modities as he deals in. The apprehension, on the one
hand, of not realizing all the profit he might, and, on
the other hand, of having his goods left on his hands,
either by his laying in too large a stock, or by his rivals
underselling him-—these, acting like antagonist mus-
cles, regulate the extent of his dealings, and the prices
at which he buys and sells. An abundant supply
causes him to lower his prices, and thus enables the
public to enjoy that abundance, while he is guided only
by the apprehension of being undersold; and, on the
other hand, an actual or apprehended scarcity causes
him to demand a higher price, or to keep back his
o'oods in expectation of a rise. For doing this, corn-
dealers in particular are often exposed to odium, as if
they were the cause of the scarcity; while in reality
they are performing the important service of husband-
ing the supply in proportion to the deficiency, and thus
warding off the calamity of famine ; in the same manner
as the commander of a garrison or a ship regulates the
allowances according to the stock and the time it is to
last. Bnt the dealers deserve neither censure for the
scarcity which they are ignorantly supposed to produce,
nor credit for the important public service which they
in reality perform. They are merely occupied in gain-
ing a fair livelihood.”
Fortunately London, in recent times, has never been
placed in circumstances in which the daily supply of
food was intermitted either by famine or by, perhaps,
what is worse, domestic convnisions or the presence of
a foreign enemy. During the revolution of 1789 Paris
experienced the pressure of severe want, in consequence
of the feelings of individual interest being damped and
thrown out of their natural course by a variety of causes.
The attempt to supply the spontaneous action of com-
merce, which is alone the healthy and secure condition
on which men will put forth their energies, was attended
with enormous sacrifices, and led to regulations which,
had they continued long in operation, would have ren-
dered the country as miserable as Turkey, or as India
under its native princes. Power and authority inter-
fered to such an extent with private concerns, that the
cultivation of the earth for any other purpose than that
of supplying the cultivator’s individual wants was on
the point of becoming nugatory, as no advantages were
in prospect as the reward of additional exertion. The
* Histoire de la Revolution Francaise,’ by M. Thiers,
late the prime minister of France, contains many scat-
tered details on this subject; and at another time an
article may not be inappropriately devoted to an ac-
count of the state of things alluded to, the present
notice forming an introduction which will render it
more intelligible.
PIGEON-ROOSTS.
{From a Correspondent.]
Tne following particulars (communicated by a Cor-
respondent) may be added to the account of the wild
pigeons of North America, usually called the ‘“ Pas-
senger Pigeons,” given in No. 99 of the ‘ Penny Ma-
wazine > —
_ There is an extensive district of country stretching
eastward from the head waters of the Ohio, through the
northern parts of the States of Pennsylvania and New
York, which, from the major part of the forest-trees
being beech, is known by the general appellation of
‘<The Beechwoods.” When there is a favourable
season for the beech-tree bearing nuts, which is not
always the case, the whole surface of the ground is
strewn with them by the gales about the period when
the early snows begin to fall. The beech-nuts remain
beneath the snow unmolested during the whole winter ;
about the time when the influence of the spring causes
them to vegetate, myriads of pigeons are attracted to
[JANUARY 7,
that part of the country where they continue to sojourn,
while this, their favourite food, is in tolerable abun-
dance. In case the temptation is exceedingly strong,
the old birds will sometimes nest and breed again; the
place they select being generally along some ridge or
eminence, where the branches of every tree become
literally loaded with their rudely-constructed nests.
When the time of incubation 1s over, the neighbouring
settlers resort to the breeding-ground; and as powder
and shot are expensive articles in the Backwoods, the
woodsman’s favourite weapon—the axe—is called into
operation; such trees as are of a moderate thickness
are hewn down, and hundreds of young and simple
pigeons, some in the nests and others perched upon the
branches, are brought to the ground. Bags and sacks
are then put in requisition, and such as are of approved
size are huddled by scores into those unsportsman-like
receptacles; whilst numbers of the rejected are left to
perish by hunger, if they have unfortunately survived
the concussion caused by the falling of the tree. When
the parties get tired of “cutting down and picking up,”
and have got themselves and their horses (for many
-bring horses to those “ pigeon frolics”) pretty well loaded,
they set out on an expedition of “ pigeon peddling”
among such as -have either no time or taste to engage
in this rude and barbarous recreation.
The breeding-ground is altogether distinct from the
pigeon-roost ; while the old ones are hatching their
second broods, the young wanderers from the south are
left to take care of themselves. Throughout the whole
of the beechwoods there are low and swampy pieces
of ground designated “* Beaver Meadows.” ‘Those
swamps, for the most part, are overgrown with tall
coarse grass; and around many of their margins grows
a profusion of alder bushes, seldom attaining more than
fifteen or twenty feet. Why or wherefore the pigeons
select those bushes for their roosting-places might be
somewhat difficult to conceive, since the forest trees in
the immediate vicinity would afford them much greater
security ; but such is the case at present, and such it is
known to have been.
Although the nests and their inhabitants are ex-
ceedinely numerous in the forests where they breed,
yet the number of pigeons that roost in one of those
‘‘alder-swamps”’ upon which they chance to fix as a
rendezvous, surpasses all belief. There are thousands
and tens of thousands, and in some cases hundreds of
thousands! and they are therefore so closely stowed
together that they support and rest upon each other.
The assailants, instead of going armed with guns, or
even with axes, carry a pretty long pole or club, and a
few'dry pine-knots, to light up when they get to the
roosting place, not forgetting sacks wherein to deposit
their victims. Having reached the pigeon-roost towards
midnight, a light is struck, and the blaze of one or two
of the pine-knots astonishes and confounds the un-
suspecting occupiers of the branches over-head. They
move to and fro, they flutter, but do not attempt to
quit the bushes, seemingly determined to retain posses-
sion of their roosting-place regardless of consequences.
While one person holds the torch the other is busily
engaged in dealing destruction ; when in that particular
place the ranks of the poor innocents seem somewhat
thinned, the killed and wounded are placed promis-
cuously in the sacks, and in some other part of the
roost the former scene is reacted.
Those torch-light excursions yield more than abun-
dance to the adventurers; yet it generally happens
that they resort by daylight to the scene of their noc-
turnal deeds, where they seldom fail to meet with scores
of the dead and wounded birds they had overlooked in
the hurry and darkness .of the preceding night. It
1s exceedingly strange that among the thousands of
pigeons taken in the manner here described, there
1837 ]
never happens, by any chance, to be any old birds!
As soon as the second broods are capable of accom-
panying their parents in their onward journey to the
far regions of the north and west, they all as with
one accord leave this section of country; for by this
time their favourite food—the beech-nuts—is quite
exhausted.
ENGLISH ECONOMY.
(From the Rev. O. Dewey’s ‘ Old and New World®.)
I opserveD that a considerable number of passengers
(on board a steam-boat) carried a coimnfortable pic-
nic box or basket with them, and spread their own table.
With some, doubtless, this provision proceeded from a
fastidious taste that feared some poisonous dirt would
be found in the common fare of a steam-boat. But
with many, I presume, it arose from a habit which
presents a marked difference between the people of
England and of America—I mean the habit of economy.
In America we are ashamed of economy. It is this
feeling which would’ forbid among us such a practice
as that referred to, and not only this, but a great many
more and better practices. In England economy stands
out prominently; it presides over the arrangements of
a family; it is openly professed, and fears no reproach.
A man is not ashamed to say of a certain indulgence,
that he cannot afford it. A gentleman says to you,
‘I drive a pony-chaise this year; I have put down
my horse and gig, because I cannot pay the tax.” A
man whose income and expences and style of living
far exceed almost anything to be found amongst us,
still says of something quite. beyond him, which his
wealthier neighbour does, ‘‘ We are not rich enough
for that.’ One of the most distinguished men in
Europe said to me, when speaking of wines at his table,
**'The wine I should prefer is claret, but I cannot afford
it; and so I drink my own gooseberry.” I have heard
that many families carry the principle so far, that they
determine exactly how many dinners they can give in a
year, and to how many genests; nay more, and how
many dishes they can put upon the table when they do
entertain.
This frankness on the subject of economy is amonest
us a thing almost unheard of. Not that we are more
wealthy, but, as I conceive, less wise. ‘The competition
of domestic life among us is too keen to admit of any
such confessions of internal weakness. We practise
economy by stealth. Nor is that the worst of it; for
one consequence of this habit of feeling is, that we
practise too little. When a stranger looks upon the
strife of business in our villages and cities, he imagines
that he sees a very covetons people; but a nearer ob-
servation would show him that much of this eager and
absorbing, and almost slavish, occupation, 1s necessary
to sustain the heavy drains of domestic expenditure. It
is extravagance at home that chains many a man to the
connter and counting-room. And this extravagance is
of his own choosing; because he knows no other way
of distinguishing himself but by the style of living.
Would he but conceive that he might better elevate
himself in society by having a well-read library, by
improving his mind and conversation, by cultivating
some graceful but comparatively cheap accomplishment,
he might live a wiser man and die a richer. Who could
hesitate to choose between such a family, and one whose
house was filled with gorgeous furniture; where the
wife and daughters are dressed in the gayest of the
fashion, and the hushand and father banishes himself
the live-long day, and half the night, from that pleasant
mansion, to toil and drudge in the dusty warehouse ?
He sleeps in a very grand house; he lives in a conn-
ting-room !
* Mr. Dewey is an American,
THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 5
NORTHUMBERLAND PEASANTRY.
THE superior condition of the agricultural labourers of
Northumberland to that of the peasantry of the south
of England is generally acknowledged. The fact has
been attributed to a variety of canses—to the education
and better information of the former class, to their
habits of life, and to the mode in which they are hired
and paid their wages on farms. The farm servants of
this district are in general a sober, steady, hard-work-
ing, industrious, and religious race of men; in person
they are of a middling height, well formed, and re-
markably stout, capable of bearing considerable faticue,
and retaining all that resolution in enterprise which dis-
tinguished their ancestors, the borderers of the Marches.
Living at great distances from large towns, they have
few of the temptations to vice incident to the conere-
gation of large bodies of men; and their wages being |
paid in kind, they have few opportunities of indulging
in the dissipation of the village alehonse. In their
domestic habits they are extremely cleanly and simple,
in their dress plain and decent; obedient and attached
to their masters, and to local habits and feelings, they
change their situations as seldom as possible. The
farms being extensive, varying from 300/. to 15002. per
annum in rent, and the hours of labour long, the ser-
vants of each farm form a circle among themselves,
neither seeking or caring for the society of those at a
distance. Parents consider it an indispensable duty to
have their children instructed in the rudiments of edu
cation, and to neglect it, or to be unable to read and
write correctly, incurs obloqguy and disgrace; children
are sent daily, with their scanty dinners in a bag, a
distance of four and five miles, to attend the nearest
school. for the most part they are severe Calvinists
in religion; sincerely attached to the Presbyterian or
independent forms of church worship and discipline,
they look upon the prelatical government of the Esta-
blished Church as a mere ally to Popery, of which they
have the utmost dread. They are regular attendants
at public worship, not unfrequently walking from eight
to fifteen miles to hear a favourite preacher: although
anxious speculators in the debated points of theological
controversy, and fond of scrutinizing the doctrines of
their religious teachers, they invariably entertain feel-
ings of respect and kindness towards their pastors.
Their diet is simple and wholesome, but extremely
homely; they are unable to afford meat reeularly (what
they use is chiefly bacon or pork), living very much upon
cheese, potatoes, bread, butter-milk, g@arden-stuff, and
oatmeal: the days on which meat is placed on their
frugal boards (Sunday is always one) form a sort of
family feasts, and are dignified by the name of pot-days.
The bread is made of barley, or barley mixed with grey
pease or beans. ‘Iwo parts barley and one part pease
or beans are mixed previously to erindine’; after having
been ground, the meal is sifted through a sieve of wood
to separate it from the rough husks and coarse bran;
it is kneaded with water, made into unleavened cakes,
and baked on a thin circular piece of iron, called a
girdle, suspended over the fire. Oatmeal is also a
principal article of food, made into what are locally
called crowdies, for breakfast and supper: the oatmeal,
in preparing this dish, is placed in a basin, and a hole
made in the centre of the meal, into which boiling
water is poured; a paste of great consistency is formed
by stirring it with a small stick, and then eaten with
butter or milk, as most convenient. Another prepara-
tion of oatmeal, called hasty pudding, or meal-kail, is
also used, and is made almost in a similar manner, the
only difference being, that it is boiled instead of having
water poured over it. They never brew for themselves,
and therefore they seldom drink ale or beer, except when
| provided by their master during the harvest work; they
take but little spirits, and rarely use tobacco, ‘They are
é THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
eenerally very sober; almost the only occasions when
they are to be seen the least intoxicated is when at a
neighbouring fair, seeking a service, or buying a pig,
or during those remnants of ancient hospitality which
are invariably kept up on a fixed day—the village feasts,
when music, dancing (for a fondness of both of which
the Northumbrian peasantry are distinguished), cards,
and drinking are the amusements of the day.
They do not usually marry early in life; indeed, they
have involuntarily imposed a check on early marriages,
by making it almost indispensable for young men to be
the possessors of a cow and furniture, which is locally
cailed the “ plenishing,’ before they enter into that
state. As it is not considered a very reputable thing
for a young man to marry uniess he can furnish a
cottage and purchase a cow, a spirit of independence is
thus created in a young couple, which enables them to
face the world and set up for themselves. A master
sometimes assists an industrious young man, who has
been some time in his service, in purchasing these re-
quisites, or lends him a cow until he is able to work the
value of it out. Early and improvident marriages are
generally the result of previons indiscretion, which ren-
der them imperative to preserve character. They have
seldom recourse to parochial relief, not even in cases of
temporary sickness, because the ‘labourer being hired
for a year, his wages go on, notwithstanding his in-
ability to perform his service; and this does not operate
hardly on the master, as it matters little to him whether
he supports his own servants, or contributes to the sup-
port of all persons similarly situated in the parish, while
it saves the independent labourer from the degradation
of applying to the overseers. ‘he peasantry are rarely
enabled to save money during their service, but, as the
family live together, they have some provision for their
old age in the industry of their children. The benefit
clubs established amongst them are not for the purpose
of giving aid in cases of sickness or misfortune, but to
pay the expenses of the funerals of the members. ‘The
nature of the engagements of these agricultural ser-
vants, aud of their wages, is productive of such obvious
effects on their morals and happiness, that some account
of it cannot but be interesting to the reader. ‘The en-
cacement of a hind is annual, from May to May; he is
provided with a cottage and garden rent-free, he has a
cow kept upon his master’s pasture, he is paid a certain
quantity of corn, a certain quantity of wool, if his
master be a sheep-breeder, and some money. ‘he
amount of grain being fixed, and not affected by the
markets, the hind is not subjected to the fluctuations
of high and low prices. The following may be taken
as a fair average of the particulars of the annual wages;
36 bushels of oats, 24 bushels of barley, 12 bushels of
pease, 3 bushels of wheat, 24lbs. of wool, a ton of hay
and turnips, sufficient for the support of a cew during
the winter months, as much straw as can be made into
mannre, a piece of land sufficient for the erowth of 36
bushels of potatoes, and 3/. 10s. in cash. The grain,
which is always the best produced by the farm, thereby
giving the servants an interest in working the land,
and preserving the produce in good condition, is given
in four equal quantities at stated intervals of time.
The farmer also conveys their coals from the neigh-
bouring colliery. ‘To the cottage is attached a cow-
house and pig-sty, the inhabitants, generally two in
the course of a year, of which latter residence, are kept
entirely upon the refuse of kitchen and garden stuff.
The proprietors of small mills, which are numerous,
send round their carts to the surrounding villages, and
collect the grain, and return it ground, for a trifling re-
muneration. Every hind is bound to provide a femaie
worker or boy for the lighter operations of the farm, at
a low rate of wages, viz., one shilling a day during the
harvest, which commonly lasts about thirty days, and
[JANUARY 7,
eight-pence a day during the remainder of the year;
although the hind is always obliged by his contract to
have such worker ready, yet she is only employed, and
the hind, her master, paid, when wanted. This part of
their engagement, which is called ‘* bondage-work,”
has lately become very obnoxious to the hinds, who are
now forming unions amongst themselves to get rid of
it; should they succeed, the increased expense of cul-
tivation to the farmer would be sertonsly felt: the late
Duke of Northumberland was opposed to the system,
but failed in a partial attempt to do away with it.
Where the hind has a son or daughter capable of per-
forming the work, it is a-source of profit to him, but
when he has to hire a servant, whose wages perhaps eat
np more than her work produces, it must be acknow-
ledged that an apparent hardship, at least, is inflicted
on her employer. The average amount of wages paid a
Northumberland hind may be estimated at 35/. per
annum,
SELF-CONCEIT and malice are needed to discover or to
imagine faults, and it is much easier for an ill-natured
man than for a good-natured man to be smart ard witty.—
Sharp's Essays.
E'conomy.—All to whom want is terrible, upon whatever
principle, ought to think themselves obliged to learn the
sage maxims of our parsimonious ancestors, and attain the
salutary arts of contracting expense ; for without economy
none can be rich, and with it few can be poor. The mere
power of saving what is already in our hands must he of
easy acquisition to every mind; and, as the example of
Lord Bacon may show that the highest intellect cannot
safely neglect it, a thousand instances every day prove that
the humblest may practise it with success.— Rambler
Progress and Effects of Education—The general desire
for education, and the general diffusion of it, is working, and
partly has worked, a great change in the habits of the mass
of the people. And though it has been our lot to witness
some of the inconveniences necessarily arising from a tran-
sition state, where gross ignorance has been superseded by
a somewhat too rapid communication of instruction, dazzling
the mind, perhaps, rather than enlightening it, yet every
day removes something of this evil. Presumption and self-
sufficiency are sobered down by the acquirement of useful
Knowledge, and men’s minds become less arrogant in pro-
portion as they become better informed. There cannot be
a doubt, therefore, but that any evils which may have arisen
from opening the flood-gates of education, if I may so say,
will quickly flow away, and that a clear and copious stream
will succeed, fertilising the heretofore barren intellect with
its wholesome and perennial waters.—Charge of the Bishop
of Lichfield, 1836.
Secrets of Comfort,—Though sometimes small evils, like
invisible insects, inflict pain, and a single lair may stop a
vast machine, yet the cluef secret of comfort lies in not
suffering trilles to vex one, and in prudently cultivating an
undergrowth of small pleasures, since very few great ones,
alas! are let on long leases.—Sharp's Essays,
THE COATI.
CUVIER, In his arrangement of the Animal Kingdom,
has mstituted a group or tribe, in itself very natural,
under the title of Plantigrade Carnivora, consisting of
such carnivora as apply, in walking, the entire sole of
the foot to the ground, the sole being naked and cal-
lous. ‘hat our readers may understand clearly what is
meant by the entire sole being applied to the ground,
we may illustrate the subject by comparing together the
foot of the dog and of the bear. The dog is digitigrade,
1837.]
that is, it rests upon its toes (which are furnished be-
neath each with a callous pad), and a ‘* ball” or cushion
paced immediately behind them. Its wrist before and
its heel behind are not brought in contact with the
eround,—it is raised upon its limbs, in order that its
movements may be light and rapid. Now, if we
turn to the bear, an animal with which few are un-
acquainted, we shall find that the fore-paws are pressed
flat, and have- beneath a large, broad, callous palm,—
while the hind-feet, with a large sole from heel to toe,
are also brought in contact with the ground. ‘This
difference in the structure of the feet, slight as it may
appear, is accompanied by a marked difference as
respects the movements of the animals. All planti-
_ grade animals move with a firm, heavy, and almost a
clumsy- step, destitute of lightness and elasticity ;—
they cannot bound along,—their limbs are too thick
and short, and their foot-fall too decided, for such a
mode of progression. Not that they are necessarily
slow,—for the bear rushes along with considerable
speed,—but their pace, when exerted to rapidity, par-
takes of the heavy character so conspicuous in their
ordinary mode of walking. The structure of the soles
of the hind-feet, for entire application to the earth,
enables them to sit up on their haunches, and use the
fore-paws, either for holding food between them, as we
see in the racoon, or fér defending themselves when at-
tacked. We know how the bear raises himself when
assailed, and hugs his adversary with an iron gripe,
while he tears his enemy with his teeth. ‘The planti-
orade carnivora areall, or nearly all, climbers; but
their mode of climbing does not resemble that of the
cat, or the squirrel, or of any of the light-limbed and
sharp-clawed animals ;—they do not run up a tree and
bound from branch to branch, but proceed in the same
heavy manner as on the ground ;—and it is because
they can apply the palin of their paws, or the sole of
their hind-feet, fairly to any object (not, however,
orasping it), that they are enabled thus to climb. They
use their feet, in fact, in the same manner as man, and
their mode of climbing resembles his, except that their
paws de not grasp ;—in descending, they generally
come down hind-quarters foremost, carefully availing
themselves of every projection. The bear always does
so, and, as far as we have observed, the racoon also.
With a modification of the organs of progression,
unfitting them for the chase, or for bounding, like the
tiver, from a covert upon their prey, their appetite is
accordingly less essentially carnivorous ;—it 1s modified
to meet their powers of locomotion. Hence their diet
is of a mixed nature; their food consists of roots,
berries, and fruits, as well as of flesh; and their teeth
indicate that vewetable aliment is perfectly cougenial.
Some, however, are more carnivorous than others, and
have better opportunities of obtaining prey. Among
these may be placed the coatis (of which there are three
species), animals peculiar to the warmer portions of the
American continent.
The coatis, or coati-mondis, —formerly placed by Lin-
neus with the Viverre, but now rightly associated into
a genus, under the title of Naswa,—are very remark-
able, and cannot be confounded with any other animals.
They may be known at once by the peculiar elongation
of their snout, which projects considerably beyond the
lower jaw. This snout is not, as in the hoe, supported
by a continuation of the nasal bone, but is a cylindrical
and flexible proboscis, with a truncated extremity, form-
ing a sort of disc where the nostrils open, and altogether
giving a singular character to their physiognomy.
They turn it about in various directions while in search
for food, and root with it in the earth in quest of worms
and insects. ‘The eyes are small, but quick; the ears
moderate and rounded; the body long, deep, and com-
THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 7
pressed ; the tail long; the limbs short and stout; the
toes five on each foot, and armed with large powerful
claws, well adapted for digging. The fur is rather
coarse, but long, full, and close ; the tail is ringed with
alternate bands of dark and pale tints,—in the red
coati (Nasua rufa) of rufous, in the brown coati
CN. fusca) of dusky, brown. ‘The canine teeth are re-
markable for their size and sharpness, especially those
of the upper jaw, which are compressed, and have a
cutting edge both before and behind.
In captivity these animals sleep much during the
day, and, like the kinkajou, are most active as the even-
ing advances, at which time they traverse their cage,
turn their snout from side to side, and pry into every
corner. ‘They do not, however, pass the whole of the
day in sleep, but are active for hours together, retiring
to rest only at intervals. ‘Their temper is capricious ;
we have, indeed, seen some individuals tolerably good-
tempered, but most are savage, and their bite is very
severe.
In their native climate they tenant the woods, living
for the most part in small troops among the trees, which
they climb with great.address, and prey upon birds,
which they surprise, rifling also their nests of eges or
unfledged young. Worms, insects, and roots forin
also part of their diet.-
The species presented in the cut is the brown coati
CN. fusca.) Its colours are very variable, the brown
being more or less tinged with yellow, and sometimes
shaded with black; the under surface is yellowish erey ;
the snout is generally black, and several spots or marks
of e@reyish yellow encircle the eye. It is a native of
Brazil, Guiana, and Paraguay.
D’Azara, who describes this species in his Essay on
the Quadrupeds of Paraguay, states that it lives exclu-
sively in the forests, going either singly, in pairs, or in
small troops, and climbing with the utmost facility, al-
though its tail is nét prehensile, like that of the kinka-
jou. It is an amusing thing, he observes, to see a
troop of these animals fall as if dead from the top of a
tree, when they perceive by the blows that the hatchet
is at work upon it, or when a pretence of cutting it
down be made. From this manceuvre, and most pro-
bably from their cunning, and not from their activity
or destructive propensities, they have been compared to
the fox, though in reality they have nothing fox-like
at all in their habits and manners. In Paraguay the
coati is commonly kept ina state of semi-domestication,
but always tied up, or caged, because it cannot other-
wise be prevented from climbing about the house, and
overturning glass, china, and every other light piece of
furniture. D’Azara, writing of this animal, as often
seen by him, kept tame in Paraguay, says, ‘* It eats
bread and flesh raw or cooked, various sorts of fruit,
and in a word aliment of every kind.” In our mena-
preries the same may also be said of it. Linneus kept
a coati for some time, which he attempted in vain to
bring into subjection. It made sad havoc with the
poultry, tearing off their heads and sucking their blood.
In our menageries no opportunity is given it to display
this ferocity of disposition; but D’Azara notices this
propensity :—“ I have,” says he, “ sometimes seen It
seize chickens and fowls, kill them, and eat a small por-
tion of their flesh, beginning at the back of the ueck.”
In drinking, the coati laps like a dog; but as its tong
snout would be in the way during this operation, it
turns it up, so as to prevent its being submerged.
In size the brown coati is equal to a large cat, its
body being twelve or fourteen inches long, and its tail
as much. There is, however, a larger species than
either the rufous or the brown coati, which seems
hitherto to have been confounded with the latter. Spe-
cimens of it are living in the menagerie of the Zoolo-
8 THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
gical Society, and others are preserved in the museum.
It seems, to speak from our own observation, more
gentle than: the others; but on this point we cannot
lay any stress: none are remarkable for intelligence or
docility. This larger species was not unknown to
D'Azara, though he confounded it with the brown coati,
as will appear from the following passage. ‘‘* It is said
that there are certain coatis (cowatis) which are solitary ;
these are called Haegno-Mondé (Haegno, an American
word, signifying to go alone), but many persons con-
sider them to be specifically distinct from the coati CN.
fusca). ‘The differences which they assign do not con-
sistin colours nor in figure, nor in anything but this,
namely, that the former animal is solitary, and altoge-
ther larger than the common coati, though, as it regards
myself, I am persuaded that this difference of size de-
pends on age or sex, and that their solitary mode of
life depends upon incidental circumstances.”
We have had for many years the continual opportu-
nity of seeing numbers of these animals in captivity,
and we do not hesitate for a moment to affirm that the
large brown species is truly distinct from the smaller
brown coati and from the rufous coati, which two latter
are of about an equal size, and never attain to anything
like the dimensions of the former, which has moreover
its own peculiar style of colouring. Let any one inter-
sc.
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[January 7, 1837,
ested in uatural history visit the menagerie of the Zoo-
logical Society to be convinced of the fact. The coati
is described by Buffon, but without much precision,
and with some errors.
In conclusion, it may be observed that these animals
are highly gifted with the sense of smell; they examine
everything with their long nose, which is in almost
perpetual motion; their-temper is irritable and ca-
pricious ;—they cannot be trusted, even by those with
whose persons they are the most familiar, and, conse-
quently, are not to be touched without great cantion.
Their voice, seldom exerted, is, under ordinary cireum-
stances, a gentle hissing ; but when irritated or alarmed,
they utter a singularly shrill cry, something like that of
a bird. ‘They defend themselves vigorously when at- —
tacked by a dog, or any animal, and infliet desperate
wounds. Like the racoon, they are said to be fond of
the juice of the sugar-cane, but we know not on what
authority. D’Azara does not allude to this partiality,
—it is, however, far from being improbable. In climb-
ine, they descend head foremost, being in this respect
unlike the bear, which animal they far surpass in
activity, being, indeed, better climbers than even the
cat, and exceeded among their own tribe only by
the kinkajou, whose prehensile tail gives it a great
advantage.
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The Coati-Mondi.—Nasua fusca.]
*," ‘The Oilice of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at 59 Lincoln’s Inn Fields
LONDON: CHARLES KNIGHT & CO., 22, LUDGATE STREET,
Printed by Witt1am Ciowes and Sons, Stamford Street,
THE PENNY MAGAZINE
OF THE
society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge.
PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY.
[JANUARY 14, 1837.
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Turis neat and commodious market was erected in
1510, and occupies the site of the convent church of
the Augustins. It is situated nearly at the foot of the
Pont Neuf, on the Quai des Angustins. The building
is of stone, and is pierced with arcades, which are closed
with iron rails. Between the inferior and exterior walls
there are three galleries, which add considerably to the
utility of the building. The entire length of the market
is 190 feet, and the breadth 141 feet. It is open daily,
but the supply is largest on Mondays, Wednesdays,
Fridays, and Saturdays. Game is sold in this market.
A considerable quantity of poultry is brought to the
market alive, and as all the operations connected with
preparing it for the spit are carried on within the build-
ing, it frequently presents rather a disgusting appear-
ance. ‘The supply of poultry required for the consump-
tion of Paris in 1811 was as follows: the population
has since increased about one-third, and as there has
not been a proportionate increase in the consumption
of meat, the actual consumption of poultry may perhaps
Vou. VI.
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be ascertained with tolerable accuracy by adding one-
third to each of the quantities given. The number of
pigeons was 931,000; ducks, 174,000; fowls, 1,289,000;
capons, 251,000; turkeys, 549,000 ; geese, 328,000. In
1834 the consumption of poultry and game amounted
in value to 309,1227. The value of the ezes consumed
was 176,583/.; making a total of 485,705/. In Eneg-
land, when a family which rarely consumes poultry
wishes to provide this species of food, a goose is most
conimonly selected for the occasional treat, and hence
the number brought to market is much Jarger than
that of turkeys; but in France there is a sort of pre-
judice against this bird, and comparatively few are
reared for the Parisian market. The greater dryness
of the climate of France probably tends to deteriorate
the quality and flavour of the flesh of the goose.
Poultry is an important object of French farming,
and it is thought by many that the consumption of
poultry equals that of mutton; but at all events it is
much greater than in this country, and it may be inte-
10
resting’ {0 notice some of the causes to which this may
be attributed. In the first place may be mentioned the
lean and inferior quality of cattle and sheep in France.
The weieht of our sheep is more than three times that
of the French breed. ‘The average weight of the ‘Tees-
water breed is 28lbs: per quarter; of the Leicester,
22lbs. per quarter; of the Southdown, 18lbs. per quar-
ter. About ninety years avo, the average weight of the
entire sheep sold in Smithfield market was about 28lbs.,
but it is now about S0lbs.; and the average weight
of cattle has risen from 370 lbs. to about 800 Ibs. No
such improvement has taken place in France.
does not exist to any lar@e extent a class of agricul-
turists whose endeavours to improve the breed of live
stock would operate in so extensive a manner as in this
country, where the change for the better in most of
our domestic animals has been almost complete. In
France, not only are the cattle not half fattened, in
consequence of no proper food being grown for them,
bnt the butchers do not prepare the carcase in so neat
and clean a manner as with us. Some of the sheep
when fattened do not weigh more than 20 Ibs., and sell
at about five francs (4s.) a head. Bonaparte felt that
it would be desirable to improve the breed of sheep ;
but his interference, so far from producing the desired
effect, tended to render the race more degenerate. ‘The
Freneh butchers do not sufficiently attend to the age
of the animals which they kill. Calves are taken to
market so young, that a little horse will sometimes
carry two or three in a pannier hanging at its side ;
and in the country towns a farmer will walk into the
market with as many as four live lambs on each arm,
their fore and hind lees tied together, through which
he puts his arm. The peculiar character of French
cookery renders this want of perfection in butchers’
meat less obvious; but, notwithstanding this, the greater
consumption of poultry may be considered as one of its
results.
The circumstances in which a large number of the
cultivators of the soil are placed in France does not
enable them to produce grain, even for their own con-
sumption. and has been divided and sub-divided in
many instances in very minute proportions, but the
ambition to be landowners, which ‘is so general in
France, leads these small occupiers to make every exer-
tion to maintain their position, although it is often an
absolute waste of time to superintend the little patches
into which their crops are divided. They grow, per-
haps, a little wheat and rye, flax, warden produce, and
possess a few fruit trees. ‘They require some money,
though not much; and to obtain this, the produce of
their garden, their fruit trees, and their poultry, are
exchanged at the nearest market-town. It will be seen
that, to a class thus circumstanced, the rearing of poul-
try is really one of the most important means of their
acquiring the various necessaries of life; for if corn be
erown at all, it is reqnired for the domestic consump-
tion. ‘The Irish cottier is enabled to pay his rent by
the sale of his pig; and though the French peasant has
no rent to pay, yet money is equally indispensable to
him, aud poultry, fruit, and @arden esculents constitute
the only surplus produce which he is in a condition to
raise. Mr. Birkbeck, who visited France in 1814, and
made some interesting notes on the agriculture of the
country, thus describes the manner in which the popu-
lation is arranged. The extract is not only interesting
as exhibiting the structure of society, but it shows that
thronghout the country it is consistent with the in-
terests of a large class to supply all the minor objects
of rural industry, and thal they are in conseqnence
likely to be cheap. Mr. Birkbeck says,—“‘ A town
(Moulins for instanee) depends for subsistence on the
Jands immediately surrounding it. The cultivators in-
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
There:
demand, and when the supply is short.
[JANUARY 14,
dividually have not much to spare, because, as their
husbandry is a sort of gardening, it requires a large
country population, and has, in proportion, less super-
fluity of produce. ‘Thus is formed a numerous but
poor country population, The daily supply of the
numberless petty articles of French diet employs, and
therefore produces, a multitude of little traders. It
must be brought daily from the country, and the num-
ber of individuals whom this operation employs is be-
yond calculation. * * * * And thus 50,000 persons
may inhabit a district, with a town of 10,000 inhabit-
ants in the centre of it, bartering the superfluity of the
country for the arts and manufactures of the town.”
Another cause which lessens the demand for poultry
in England is the abundance of game. In France the
oame has been nearly all destroyed since the Revoln-
tion of 1789, and it is nowhere preserved as in Ene-
land. Hence arises the larger consumption of poultry
in France. ‘The price of a hare in France, in a coun-
try town, is about 3s., and of a brace of partridges
about 2s. 6d. This is higher, as compared with the
prices of meat and poultry, than in England. The
consumption of Paris in 1811 is stated to have been
only 131,000 partridges, 29,000 hares, and 177,000
rabbits. |
In some official documents relative to the state of
foreion agriculture, prepared by his Majesty’s consuls,
and presented during the last session, the prices of
various articles of food are given, which we extract,
for the purpose of enabling the reader to make his own
comparisons and draw his own conclusions. In the
neighbourhood of Calais, the price of butchers’ meat
averages 53d. per |b.; and a couple of fowls cost from
ls. Sd. to 2s. Lid.3; a turkey, tionismec mo 5s.; a
ooose, from 2s. lld. to 3s, 9d.; a couple of ducks, from
2s. 2d. to 2s. 6d. In the department of the Seine In-
férieure the price of butchers’ meat is from 44d. to 6d.
per Ib. in the towns, and from 33d. to 42d. in the coun-
try. Poultry is stated to be high, in consequetice of
the great demand at Havre for the shipping. Fowls
are from 2s, 43d. to 4s. 9d. each, which latter price is
dearer than in London during the season of the vreatest
Turkeys vary
from 3s. 2d. to As. ld.; pweese, ours 2d. to 45.;
ducks, from 1s. 7d. to 1s. lld. each. It is doubtfu!]
whether the French ponltry weighs so heavy as that
which is reared for the London market. In the Duchy
of Holstein, the price of a fowl is stated to be Sd.; a
duck, ls. 2d.; a goose, 2s. 6d. ‘The average price of
fresh beef is 2d. per lb.; veal, 3d.; pork, 24d. to 4d.
In England, the price o* fowls, in places at some dis-
tance from London, is 2s. 6d. a couple; ducks are the
same price. In the south of Scotland geese are 3s.
each, weighing 10 lbs. or 12Ibs., and turkeys 4s. each.
Geese are usually sold by weight in Eneland, and the
price is about 6d. per Ib. on an average, except in
London, where it is much higher. ‘The price of poultry
in Ireland is lower than even in the north of Europe,
and will perhaps ‘surprise those who conceive that
France is peculiarly the country of cheap living. The
late Mr. Inglis, who published a ‘ Journey throughout
Ireland in 1834,’.cives the price of provisions in several
parts of Ireland. At Tralee he found the price of a
fine turkey ls. 9d.; a fine eoose, 10d. ; fine fowls, Sd.
a couple. The price of butchers’ meat averaged as
follows :—beef, 3d.; mutton, 3$d.; pork, 2d. Tralee
is a busy town, and an extensive retail trade is carried
on; so that it is not owing to the absence of exchange
atid traffic that provisions are so low. At Mitchels-
town, in the eonnty Tipperary, ‘turkeys were 3s. a
couple; geese, ls. 10d. a pair; ducks, 1s. a pair; fowls,
10d. to ls. a pair. Beef was from 34d. to 4d. per Ib. ;
mutton at from 4d, to 5d.; and pork is sometimes as
1887.]
low as ld. per lb. In the north of Ireland, poultry is
nearly as cheap as in the southern counties. At Sligo,
Mr. Inglis found the prices of poultry as follows :—a
couple of fowls, 10d. ; a good turkey, in the season, 2s. ;
a green goose, 10d. Meat is brought from door to
door, besides being sold in the regular markets ; and,
so brought, the price of mutton was 4d. per |b.; beef,
6d.; pork, 2d.
The circumstances of the Irish cottier resemble in
some respects those of the French peasant, though the
one is a tenant and the other a proprietor; and they
are both favourably placed for raising the smaller arti-
cles of agricultural produce. The price of poultry in
France has been given only for those districts where it
is probably dearer than in any other; and in remote
parts it may not be higher than in Ireland, though this
is doubtful. The French poultry is, however, most
likely, better in quality than the Irish. But as the
development of steam-navigation between Ireland and
the western coasts of England has already effected,
and is effecting, great improvements in the breed of
cattle, a similar improvement will be produced when
the heart of the country is penetrated by railways, and
when not more than twenty-four hours will be required
to bring the agricultural produce of the interior of Ire-
land into the capital of the empire. If even the race
of animals has been improved in consequence of the
influence of English civilization, it may surely be per-
mitted to hope, that when this influence shall be much
more extensively diffused, and when it will act both
upon the moral and physical capabilities of the coun-
try, an extensive change for good will take place in its
destinies. Liverpool, Manchester, and the manufac-
turing districts of Lancashire and Yorkshire have
already been benefited by the intercourse which has
sprune up with Ireland during the last few years.
Meat and poultry are both cheaper in consequence of
the importations by the steam-boats. In Liverpool
a turkey may be purchased for 3s. The Liverpool
market is also indebted to steam-navigation for supplies
both of game and poultry from the south-western parts
of Scotland. ‘To the same cause we are indebted to
our French neighbours in the departinents adjacent to
the English coasts for about 70,000,000 eges per an-
num. ‘They pay a duty of ld. per coven, and in 1834
this duty yielded a revenue of 24,169/. ‘The fact shows
to what an extent industry may be stimulated, and new
channels of advantageous traffic opened, by improved
means of communication.
A few words may perhaps be added for the information
of those who are desirous of estimating the comparative
cost of poultry and butcher’s meat in London. In
France and in Ireland poultry is as cheap, or cheaper,
than butcher’s meat, but in London it is much dearer.
The average weight of a turkey is 10lbs., and the
average price is 10d. per lb. The total cost is therefore
8s. 4d.; but in preparing the bird for the spit the weight
is diminished by about 23 lbs., so that for the remaining
7slbs. the cost is still 8s. 4d., whereas a lee of mutton
weiching 8lbs. would only cost 5s. 4d. The average
weight of a goose is 10]bs., and the average price about
7s.; from which 4lbs. may be deducted for the goiblets
and offal. The giblets may be sold for ls., so that the
price of the weight remaining when the bird is pre-
pared for the spit, will be exactly ls. per lb. The
average weight of a fine fowl is 3lbs., and the price is
3s.; but the offal being deducted, the price is higher
than ls. per lb. Poultry can never become a general
article of consumption while these prices continue.
The quality is of a very superior kind, but only the rich
consumer can afford such expensive food, A short
time will show the effect which railways will have in
cheapening and equalizing the prices of provisions.
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
11
The supply of poultry is at present usually obtained
within a comparatively limited circle. ‘he rearing of
poultry does not receive an atteution proportionate to its
importance in rural economy. ‘The trade with London
is very extensive, and a Lincolnshire breeder will some-
times send about 1000 turkeys and 12,000 geese to the
London market during the week preceding Christmas.
GROTTO OF ADELSBERG.
Tue circle of Carniola is one of the most interesting
portions of the dominions of Austria. Its bare and
calcareous mountains are grand and striking, and their
geological structure is peculiar. The waters of sub-
terraneous rivers issue from their recesses, and the lake
of Zirkmitz is celebrated on account of the singular
fact that at stated times it suddenly becomes dry, its
contents being drained into the bowels of the mountains,
and after the lapse of a certain period, they again issue
into their usual basin. ‘The Proteus Anguinis, which
was described in No. 259 of the ‘ Penny Magazine,’
and whose history has baffled the investigation of emi-
nent naturalists, is found in this region, in the cavern of
Adelsbere. |
Adelsberg is situated half-way between Laybach and
Trieste, in the district which overhangs the Adriatic,
and, as shown in the engraving’, is placed at the foot of
a considerable eminence. ‘There are two apertures in
this eminence, one of which receives the river Poick.
One of these openings seeins, from its regular appear-
ance, to be the work of art rather than of Nature, while
the other aperture has none of this regularity, but is
broken into jageed shapes. The entrance by which
visiters are couducted into these caverns is considerably
higher than that by which the river disappears ; and
the gallery which it forms is divided from the other
cavern by a partition, which is broken through in various
places, the visiter hearing the waters rushing beneath
along their subterraneous bed. This gallery runs but
a short way into the mountain, while, “Sas you ad-
vance, the murmuring of the stream and the distant
gleams of daylight die away together, and the silence
and darkness of ancient night reign around.” Such
is the entrance to the cavern of Adelsbere; but its
recesses cannot be penetrated without the assistance of
lights. The visiter then proceeds along the passage
above described, which gradnally widens, until it opens
into an immense cavern, or rather there are two caverns,
for it is crossed by a ledge of rock, which does not rise
to the roof. ‘This ledge forms a natural bridge, on one
side of which the waters furiously pursne their course,
and further on they have worn a passage through the
partition which divides the cavern. ‘The darkness is
oppressive and impenetrable, and the lights, which are
too feeble to pierce through the obscurity, only render it
more striking. The waters rush along with a heavy and
indistinct sound. It is only within a comparatively
recent period that any one has been so adventurous as
to proceed any farther than this ledge, as it sinks
down precipitously. At the point where the descent is
the least abrupt, a flight of steps was cut, the par-
tition was pierced, and steps were cut on the other
side, which land the visiter on the floor of the larger
cavern. Here the river flows steadily along in a well-
indented channel, and it enters the mountain at the
opposite wall of the cavern. A wooden bridge 1s thrown
across the river, and the terminating wall of the cavern
apparently opposes all further progress. — About twenty
years ago some individual, by means of the projecting
points of rock, reached the top of this wall, which is
about forty feet high. His adventurons spirit was
rewarded by discovering that the wall was not so high
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as the roof, and another cavern presented itself. Steps
were cut on the opposite side, and beyond this there
was found a succession of immense caverns, branching
off in two separate series. | 7
Sir Humphrey Davy, in his ‘Consolations in Travel,’
has introduced a conversation which took place between
himself and his friends during a visit which they paid to
the cavern of Adelsberg, and which will be found in
the ‘ Penny Magazine,’ No. 259. Itis needless to state
that its wonders filled him with admiration. An intel-
ligent writer (whom we have already quoted in the
preceding page), who visited this cavern a few years
ago, gave the following detail concerning them, in a
‘Tour in Germany and the Southern Provinces of
Austria.’ After remarking that the suite of caverns
to the left is the more extensive, ample, and majestic,
and that the one which branches to the right, though
smaller, is richer in varied and fantastic forms, he
states that they are all different in size and form and
ornamelt, and are connected by passages which are
sometimes low and bare, sometimes spacious and lofty,
supported by pillars, and fretted with cornices of the
purest stalactite. The following is his description, as
far as description can go, of these details:—‘‘ The
columns are sometimes uniform in their mass and
singularly placed; sometimes they are so regularly
arranged, and consist of smaller pillars so nicely clus-
tered together, that one believes he is walking up the
nave of a Gothic cathedral. Many of these columns,
which are entirely insulated, have a diameter of three,
four, and even five feet.’ Frequently the pillar is inter-
rupted as it were in the middle, losing its columnar
form, and twisting, dividing, or spreading itself out into
innumerable shapes. Sometimes it dilates into a broad
thin plate, almost transparent in the light of a lamp; |
THE PENNY MAGAZINE
[JANUARY 14,
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sometimes this plate curves itself round in a circular
form, sometimes the descending part tapers to a point,
which rests on the broad surface of the ascending
stalagmite. ‘The walls are entively coated with the
substance, and, in the smaller grottoes, it is so pure,
‘that travellers have covered it with names written in
pencil, which have already resisted the moisture five or
six years. ‘The other division is more spacious, and
extends much further. ‘The caverns which compose it
are wider and loftier, but not so beautifully adorned as
in the other. ‘The enormous clustered columns of sta-
lactile that seem to support the everlasting roof from
which they have only originated, often tower to such a
height, that the lights do not enable you to discover
| their. summit; but, though infinitely majestic, they are
rougher, darker, and more shapeless than in the smaller
suite. The further you advance, the elevations become
bolder, the columns more massive, and the forms more
diversified, till, after ranning about six miles into the
earth, the scene of wonderment terminates with the
element with which it began, water. A small sub-
terraneous lake, deep, clear, cold, and-dead-still, pre-
vents all further progress. It has not been passed; it
would therefore be too much to say that nothing lies
beyond.”
One of the most spacious and regular of any of the
caverns, of an oval form, about sixty feet long and
forty broad, and whose roof is not visible owing to its
ereat height, is used as a ball-room by the peasantry
of Adelsberg once a-year, on the festival of their patron
saint. ‘The -floor is smooth; the walls are covered with
stalactite, but are otherwise less ornamented than the
other caverns; a few natural stone seats and wooden
benches constitute the furniture, and candles are lighted
in rustic chandeliers, formed of a wooden cross stuck
1837,]
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account, ‘*‘ many hundred feet beneath the surface of
the earth, and a mile from the light of day, the
rude music of the Carniolian resounds through more
magnificent halls than were ever built for monarchs.
The flame of the uncouth chandeliers is reflected from
the stalactite walls in a blaze of ever-changing light ;
and, amid its dancing refulgence, the village swains
and village beauties wheel round in the waltz, as if the
dreams of the Rosicrucians had at length found their
fulfilment, and Gnomes and Kobolds really lived and
revelled in the bowels of our globe.”
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
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The above cut represents the most remarkable feature
of these wonderful caverns. A vast stalactite has formed
from the ceiling, having the appearance of the most
beautiful alabaster, and the form is that of a most per-
fectly arranged drapery. The trickling of the water at
the edges has thickened them, and given the appear-
ance of an edging or border to the drapery. The sub-
stance being semi-transparent, the guides who show
the cavern put their torches behind it, in order to dis-
play its beauty to the greatest advantage amidst the
surrounding darkness.
14 .
ANECDOTES OF THE BLACK BEAR.
(From a Correspondent.]}
TuRoucuout a large portion of the continent of North
America the black bear may be said to be indigenous ;
although, like the native tribes of Indians, once lords
of that vast country, it has many years ago totally dis-
appeared from the more numerously-peopled districts.
But it does not, however, retreat when the first blows
of the settler’s axe are heard resounding through the
xloomy forests; for while there are still remaining
Jaree bodies of the primeval woods—particularly such
as yield the mast, which constitutes a portion of its
favourite subsistence,—it may occasionally be inet with
prowling about in the more secluded and impervious
parts of the forest. Not, however, that it absolutely
avoids perambulating the fields aiid pastures, for in the
middle of a field of wheat, abont half a mile distant
from my dwelling-house, I one day had the mortification
to find no fewer than fonr bears amusing themselves at
my expense; for having quietly satisfred their hunger
with the ripe ears of grain, they were gambolling and
frolicking about in their own peculiar and clumsy man-
ner, beating down and trampling under foot five times
the quantity they conld possibly have otherwise con-
sumed.
abroad in search of food, they will steal from their re-
treats in the lone wilderness, and under the veil of
darkness will venture into the vicinity of farm build-
ines, provided there be no watch-dog to scare them
from their intended plunder. On these occasions their
depredations are almost exclusively confined to the pie-
sty, or rather to the hog-yard ; for the inhabitants seldom
shnt up their hogs in close pens, except during the period
they are fattening them, that is, for a few weeks towards
the close of the year. ‘There is something migratory in
the disposition of the black bear, though not very de-
cidedly so. I have endeavoured to ascertain this point
to some degree of certainty, not only from my own per-
sonal observations during many years’ residence in their
haunts, but also from several old hunters, who, from
their youth up, have spent the chief part of their lives
in the pursuit of the wild animals of the forest; and all
that I could learn from them upon the subject amounted
to this;—that it frequently happens for a number of
years im succession, that but very few bears are seen
throughout a vast range of country, so that the settlers
have beann to conclude that the district was about to
be entirely deserted by them; when, all on a sudden,
every valley and mountain ridge will regain the repu-
tation of being infested with an unnsual number of
these animals. In all probability the succeeding year
will bring about a similar scarcity ; and whither all the
bears have withdrawn nobody seems able to decide.
Yhe following anecdote, which occurred in my own
immediate vicinity, will serve to illustrate that when
Bruin has made up his mind on the subject, and is hard
run for a supper, he is not easily daunted or driven
from his purpose. An Englishman from the Woulds
of Yorkshire, who had but recently arrived in our
settlement, purchased a small farm in a very lonely
situation, upon which he took up his abode in a little
log-built cabin, that had been erected by the original
occupier of the place. His new residence was sittiated
at one extremity of a few acres of “cleared” land, sur-
rounded on all sides by dark primeval forests, so that he
could not obtain a elimpse of any of his neighbours’ pos-
sessions, although he was scarcely a mile distant from
the nearest of them. Everybody blamed him for fixing
upon this out-of-the-way place, particularly as he was
withont any family; for he was one of those uncom-
fortable sort of beings yclept “old bachelors.” But he
could have given two reasons for selecting this farm ;
in the first place he purchased it at a low rate, which
suited the state of his finances, and in the second place
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
When compelled by absolute necessity to go!
he preferred being where his peculiar habits and man-
ner of living might but seldom come under the obser-
vation of his somewhat curious and prying ueighbours.
Every house-keeper in America keeps one hog at the
least; for in the interior of the country they haye no
meat-markets to resort to for a supply of provisions, so
that it behoves them to lay in a stock of theirown. My
countryman, the old bachelor, no sooner took possession
of his new estate, than he purchased a good-sized hog,
which, during the summer, would be able to pick up a
precarious livelihood, and when the season shonld arrive
for shutting it up, its owner expected to be in the pos-
session of a small stock of Indian corn, upon which he
meant to fatten his grunter. After he had succeeded
in domesticating the animal, by treating it daily, for a
short time, to some portion of his small stock of eatables,
it was suffered to ramble where it pleased ; and it would
sometimes remain in the adjoining woods for several
days in succession. One day, however, it returired
home with evident marks abont it of havitfe been in the
wars; and the fact was, that it had been attacked by a
bear, and had not a hunter’s dog accidentally come up
at the moment, the settler’s hog would never have
returned to the abode of its owner. It was now deemed
prudent to bestow a little more circumspection upon
the welfare and safety of the convalescent how; and
our settler therefore piled up a few logs against one
end of his own hovel, as a place of security for his pig
during the night, but by day it was permitted to ernnt
about in the adjoining enclosure. Our Enelishman
had never seen a bear in his life; but in his more
youthful days he had read surprising stories of ‘‘ out-
landish wild beasts,” and among these his imagination
had correctly enough included the ‘black bear;” and
now that he was morally certain that he had such a
*‘dreadful monster” for so near a neighbour, the idea
made him feel exceedingly uncomfortable. ‘The first
two or three nights that the hoe inhabited its new
lodging: passed calmly and quietly over; but sometime
about the middle of the ni@lt following, the Yorkshire-
man was awoke by a dreadful racket in the hog-pen,
and presently he heard his near neighbour squeakine
and yelling in the most frightfnl manner. ‘Trembling
with affright, he arose from his bed, and having stirred
the slumbering embers of his fire, he next examined his
door to ascertain that it was properly seeured, which -
having done he commenced hallooing and vociferating,
and thumpiug with a huge billet of wood against the
interior logs of his mansion, immediately opposite to
where the affray was going on; and although he had
a loaded gun in his apartment, he judeed it much safer
to remain within the walls of his fortress, than to sally
out and risk the issue of a night encounter with a huge,
savage, and disappointed “ black bear.” Iam not sure
but his was the wisest—at all events it was the safest—
conclusion; for although the old settlers laughed at
him, and blamed him for not having lied to the rescue,
—for many of them were nearly as familiar with wolves
and bears as they were with their biped neighbours,—
Iam not quite certain that they, had they been simi-
larly situated, would not have acted precisely as did the
Yorkshireman. At any rate the alarming turmoil did not
last long; for the unmusical notes of the poor hog ¢rew
fainter and fainter, until it was evident to its trembling
owner that it had breathed its last. When returning
daylight once more e@laddened the heart of thie besiewed
settler, he cautiously undid the fastenings of his rude
door, and with the muzzle of his rusty fowling-piece
considerably in advance, and his finger upon the trigger,
he stole softly round his cabin, by the opposite end to
that where the hog-pen was situated, with a mixture of
hope and apprehension of falling in with the bear; but
when he at.last ventured to approach the scene of the
preceding night’s conflict, neither bear nor hoe was
[J ANUARY 14,
1837.]
there! Bruin seldoin feasts upon his victim in such
suspicious places; for being possessed of ereat strength,
he prefers bearing: it off into his own territories, the lone
forest, where le can banquet more at his leisure, and in
oreater security.
The lonely bachelor mieht have got over the stigma
of not having done all in his power to annoy his hog’s
adversary, for there were no “‘ courts martial” to bring
him before; but he took a resolution which convinced
even those who had defended his previous conduct, that
he was not a hero of the very first order. Having
satisfied himself that the bear, after killing his pretty
larve hog, had actually carried it clean off the premises,
he judged it prudent to evacuate his lonely cabin before
Bruin made a second visit; for he somewhere had
heard it said, that the flesh of the. hoe very much re-
sembled that of the human body, so that nothing
seemed more probable than that he would be seized
upon in the absence of another hog. Without turning
the matter uppermost in his mind twice over, he
shouldered his gun, and made the best of his way to
the house of a friend and countryman, to whom he
related the dire events of his short residence in the now
deserted cabin; for from that hour he never again
visited it. He took the earliest opportunity of disposing
of the small ‘farm, for which he got but a mere trifle ;
and not feeling quite comfortable in the neighbourhood
of lis first heroic exploits as a backwoodsman, he
retreated to a distant but an older-settled part of the
country, where the inhabitants were equally strangers
to the visits of ** black bears,’ as they were to the
history of the former adventures of the “‘ old bachelor.”
The cubs of the black bear when caught young are
easily domesticated ; and hence they are sometimes
kept about the premises of those who are ardent ad-
mirers of such ungainly pet-monsters. <A friend and
neighbour of mine, who entertained a rooted antipathy
towards dogs, procured a young bear that soon became
very tame and familiar; and as he grew up my friend
taught and encouraged “ Bruin” to drive away every
doe that happened to accompany the settlers, or in
any other way came about the premises; and the
eawerness and assiduity which the lubberly-looking
fellow evinced in his avocation were truly astonishing.
Even the regular hunters’ dogs, that were almost daily
accustomed to savage warfare in the pursuit of the wild
animals of the forest, no sooner perceived honest Bruin
intent upon driving them from his own little territory,
than they immediately adopted’ the hint, and with fallen
crest and downcast tail, scampered off as fast as their
lees would carry them. ‘The young’ men employed
upon my friend’s estate would wrestle and frolic with
Bruin, who, although he exhibited no signs of ma-
lienant or vindictive feeling, was occasionally a rather
tude customer. We had several times discoursed upon
the probability of his retaining his wonted good appetite
during the severe winter months, and wondered whether
or not he would stick pretty close to his warm kennel ;
when one day, to the regret of the whole establishment,
it was discovered that honest Bruin was missing. <A
general inquiry was instituted respecting the missing
bear, but nothine certain and conclusive could be
arrived at. The following morning came, but Bruin
came not, so that the prevailing opinion seemed to he,
that he had been fallen in with by some of the hunters
in his wonted rambles in the neighbouring woods, and
no doubt shot either desienedly or by mistake, for he
was no friend with those whose dog's he scared from
about his master’s premises. As no report got abroad
in the settlement of any bears having been lately caught,
Bruin’s friends finally adopted the opinion that his
death had been a wilful act, and that the guilty party,
not feeling disposed to avow it openly, had feasted upon
his plump carcase in secret. When “ Bruin” disap-
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
15
peared from his home and his friends, (for he was a
oreat favourite notwithstanding his occasional rudeness)
it was in the early part of the month of Deceinber,
Just as winter was about to set in decidedly ; and
although the ground was partially trozen; there was at
the time no covering of snow. But shortly afterwards
a snow-storm came on, which continued for three days,
so that when it subsided there was fully two feet of
level snow everywhere overspreading the surrounding
scene. From that time until the beginning of April
the surface of the ground was no more visible; for
although there occurred one or two partial thaws, yet
they were succeeded by snow-storms, so that there was
but little diminution in the original quantity of snow,
when the spring was about toset in. But the increased
influence of the sun, aided by the vernal breezes during
the last days of March and the first days of April,
was too powerful long to be withstood, so that at the
time alluded to there was but a very slight covering
remaining.
One fine bright day the youne people’s attention was
attracted, while they were standing at the windows of
the dining-room, to something black that was moving:
slowly along the pathway which winded through the
distant brakes and bushes; when in a few minutes, as
the half-hidden creature emerged into the open plains,
there burst forth the general exclamation, ‘It is Bruin!
itis Bruin! the dear fellow, Bruin!” and in the lapse
of a few minutes more he had taken possession of his
old quarters—his kennel in the wood-shed. But what
a change was there! ‘The well-fed and well-looking
Bruin in the early part of December, returned at the
commencement of April lean and ugly, and scarcely
able to crawl alone. There being, as I observed, some
snow still remaining, curiosity prompted my friend to
trace back the bear’s ample footsteps, when, at the dis-
tance of barely half a mile from the dwelling-house, he
discovered an old hollow pine-tree, but stiil standing,
within which Bruin had evidently taken up his winter
quarters.
During the following summer the bear soon regained
his usual robustness, and on the approach of winter
betook himself to his old hiding-place; but returned
as usual in the early opening of spring. ‘Three winters
did he pass in this pine-tree retirement, but before the
return of the fourth my friend had got heartily tired of
Bruin’s wayward, and at times even savage, conduct ;
and meeting with an itinerant showman, the bear was
consigned to his safe keeping, and by this time, in all
probability, has made the tour of Europe.
Whatever may have been recorded concerning bears
becoming fat by sucking their own paws, we have here
an instance of one of these animals returning lean and
languid from his confinement, which would go far to-
wards establishing one of two things—namely, that
either he had been too lazy to suck his own toes, or
that the sucking of toes has not the fattening effect
generally ascribed to it.
DISEASES, AND THE DURATION OF
SICKNESS.
(Abridged from the Article on Vital Statistics, by William Farr,
Esqy Surgeon, in the ‘ Statistical Account of the British Empire.’ )
Man’s body:is compounded of many parts, performing
many offices so diversified in nature, that there is, per-
haps, no extensive train of phenomena in the universe
that does not find its connterpart in his organization ;
crowned with other and higher faculties of sense and
intellect, far removed from anything observed in inor-
eanic matter. This complexity and completeness of
the human body almost justified the ancient opinion
that ‘“ man was microcosmus—an abstract or model of
the world.” For, dust and ashes as it is, who can
16
survey the ruins of the human frame, the bare skeleton
to which it is at last reduced, and in clothing it with
muscle and tendon, artery and vein, delicate and in-
cessant chemical action, forces adjusted for circulating
fluids, and producing motion, sight, and all sense—
affection, passion, thought—the history of all it may
have done and suffered—without feeling that a world
wrecked in space, a planet in all its aberrations, offers
a less interesting spectacle than the phenomena mani-
fested by the human body in its progress to death!
The sickness to which mankind is lable does not
occur at any one time or age, but in an interspersed
manner over the lifetime of each person. ‘The con-
stant quantity of sickness is kept up by a succession of
diseases attacking the body at intervals and in pa-
roxysins, Which, however irreeular they appear ina
fimited sphere of observation, are really definite in
number, and separated by stated spaces. As a certain
order is preserved in the performances of the healthy
functions, so their derangements, in similar circum-
stances, also observe an order and regularity of succes-
sion. ‘lo accuse the human frame of perpetual malady
is as ridiculous as to attribute, with some theological
writers, unintermitting wickedness to.the human heart ;
but if every alteration of the multiplied parts of the
human body, every transient trouble of its infinite
movements, every indigestion in man, and every fit of
hysteria in woman were reckoned, few days of human
life would remain entirely clear; and if the same scru-
tiny were extended to the state of the brain, the world
may very civilly be sent to Anticyra—naviget Anti-
cyram*, In determining the amount of sickness and
the attacks of disease, the shghter affections are there-
fore passed over.
The attacks of disease vary in frequeney to a ereat
extent in unhealthy and salubrious situations; but the
experience of the Kast India Company’s labourers, of
the children belonging to the Bennet Street School,
which has the best regulated sick society of any in
Manchester, and of the artizans of the Trades Club in
Wurzburgh, all receiving pay during sickness, and only
falling on the funds in cases of some duration and
severity, tends to show that 100 of the efficient male
population of this country are not liable to more than
25 severe attacks of disease in the year. Each man
is liable to a protracted disease, disabling him from
work, every four years: this forms one great section of
the sickness of the country; but it does not include
accidents from fighting and drunkenness, or the many
ailmeuts which make men apply for medical advice while
they carry on their occupation, comprising, perhaps,
as many more cases of a sliehter character, which raise
to fifty per cent. the proportion of the population
attacked annually.
External circumstances have the greatest influence
in augmenting the attacks of diseases; age, and the
internal state of the body, determine their mortality
and duration. When the people of this country are
placed amidst destructive agencies, these, like balls in
battle, carry them off by attacking a greater number;
they also add to the fatality of the attack; but after a
man is seized, age and vital tenacity, exclusively of
medicine, are the great modifiers on which his life and
sufferings depend. In epidemics the attacks generally
become much more fatal at the same time that they are
more numerous.
Men placed in the same circumstances appear equally
liable to an attack of sickness between eleven and sixty
years of age. One hundred of the London labourers,
* Th: phrase or adage, naviget Anticyram, has reference to the
fact that sick persons were in the habit of resorting to Anticyra
for the purpose of procuring hellebore, for which the place was
famous. There were several towns of this name, but the prio-
cipal Anticyra was a city in Phocis, on a small isthmus which
joing & peninsula in the Gulf of Corinth,
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
(January 14, 1837.
in each of the decennial periods, 20—80, 30—40,
40—50, 50—60, had nearly 23°5 attacks of sickness
annually; the highest number was 26°4, the lowest
22°4.,
The mean duration of each case of disease appears to
increase as ave advances. So, also, the mortality among
the attacked augments with age at the same rate as the
mortality among the entire number living. The sick
time increases with age in a geometrical progression.
If, therefore, the number of attacks at each age be the
same, the duration of each attack will increase in the
saine ratio; and conversely, if the duration of the cases,
and the sick time, augment at the same rate, the num-
ber of attacks at every age will be equal.
The diseases proving fatal in childhood, manhood,
and old age, are not the same: to determine, therefore,
the peculiar diseases—the nature of the dangers—we
have to encounter at different periods of life, becomes a
most important problem. Very few statistical obser-
vations exist in which the deaths from each disease, at
different ages, are enumerated. The observations of
Dr. Heysham, at Carlisle, where he collected the facts
on which the ‘Carlisle Table’ is formed; the diseases
of which 4,095 persons, assured in the Equitable Office,
died; the bills of mortality of the Anglo-American
population in Philadelphia, are, we believe, the only
data of the kind yet published, either in Europe or
America *.
In proportion as a population becomes civilized, and
as its physical condition and mental life are aimelio-
rated, the deaths from apoplexy appear to increase,
while the fevers and plagues of the state of barbarism
decrease in a much more rapid ratio.
In the first period of life (0 to 20) the eruptive
fevers, inflammations, scrofulous and dropsical effusions,
are most to be dreaded. In Philadelphia, two-fifths of
the deaths were from affections of the brain'and bowels.
Who, with these facts before him, can fail to see the
impropriety of giving children preparations of laudanum,
spirits, or any food at first but the mother’s bland milk ?
Cold often produces inflammation of the lungs in win-
ter; but too much tenderness in this respect, and the ac-
customing of boys to a delicate diet, weaken the consti-
tution. Between 20 and 40, consumption, inflamma-
tion, fevers, and epidemics, are the most deadly shafts
of death, which, as Dr. Clarke has shown, a judicions
course of hygiene in this period may do much to disarm.
The same class of diseases maintain the preponderance
till 60; but in the period following (60 to 80) dropsies
and inflammations increase, while apoplexy gains a
great ascendancy. After 65, a man should undertake
nothing requiring great intellectual exertion or sus-
tained energy: warmth, temperance, tranquillity, may
prolong his years to the close of a century; a rude
breath of the atmosphere, a violent struggle, or a shock,
will suffice to terminate his existence. ‘The apoplexy of
the aged can, with care, be averted for several years ;
but it is perhaps the natural death, the euthanasia of :
the intellectual: their blood remains pure, their solids —
firm to the last,—when a fragile artery gives way with-
in the head, the blood escapes, and by a gentle pressure —
dissolves sensibility at its source—for ever! The life is
no longer there—the corporeal elements are given back
to the universe !
* According to a late act providing for the registration of |
births and deaths, the causes of death are to be recorded. This
is one of the most important clauses of that measure, and, if pro-
perly attended to, will in a few years enable us to determine of
what diseases the different classes of the English people die, at
all ages, and in all circumstances.
IE
*,* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at |
99, Lincoln’s Inn Fields,
LONDON: CHARLES KNIGHT & CO., 22, LUDGATE STREET.
Printed by Witiiam Crowss_and Sons, Stamford Street.
|
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THE PENNY MAGAZINE
society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge.
308. ]
PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY.
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[JANUARY 21, 1837.
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[The Glutton and the Reindeer. |
Amona the plantigrade fer, to which group it be-
longs, no species has been so celebrated as the glutton,
the bear itself not excepted; but, as is too often the
case, its celebrity has depended rather upon exaggerated
accounts of its habits and manners, than upon a know-
ledge of its real character. Stripped, however, of all
false colouring, its history is interesting; and the more
so, inasmuch as it is little known.
The glutton (Gulo Luscus) is a native of the north-
ern regions, both of the old and the new world. It is
found in Sweden, Russia, and Siberia, as well as in the
northern parts of America, from the coasts of Labrador
and Davis Straits to the shores of the Pacific; and it
even visits the islancs‘of the Polar Sea, its bones having
been found in Melville Island, nearly in latitude 75°.
The first writer who has described this animal is
Olaus Magnus. “ Among all animals,” he says, “ which
are regarded as insatiably voracious, the glutton in the
northern parts of Sweden has received an express ap-
pellation, being called in the language of the country
Jerff, and in German Wilfras. In the Sclavonian lan-
guage its name is Rossomaka, in allusion to its vora-
city; in Latin, however, it is only known by the ficti-
tious name of Gulo, from its habits of gorging”—(Gu/o
VoL, VI. |
a gulositate appellatur).—‘ Ol. Mag. Hist. de Gent.
Septent.’ p. 138. In North America, we may add, it
is termed Wolverene and Quickehatch (a corruption of
its Cree Indian name). ‘The French Canadians call it
Carcajou (also a corruption of the Cree term okee-coo-
haw-gew).
The glutton is, indeed, a voracious animal, but by
no means formidable to man or the larger beasts,
though in proportion to its size its strength is very
great. Its general appearance is that of a bear in
miniature; its head is broad and compact, and rounded
off on every side to form the nose. ‘lhe ears are short
and rounded, and almost hidden among the fur; the
back is arched, the tail short and bushy, the limbs
thick, short, and very muscular: the whole contour of
the animal indicates vast strength, but only a small
share of activity. In walking, the glutton places the
entire sole of the feet on the ground, and imprints a
track on the snow or soft earth so like that of a bear,
that it may be easily mistaken for it. The Indians,
however, at once distinguish the tracks by the length
of the steps. ‘The general colour of the fur, which is
long and full, and much like that of a black bear, is
dark brown, a paler band passing along each side, and
18
uniting on the crupper; there are also a few jrregular
whitisit markings on he throat and chest. The lene th
of the head and body 1s two feet six inches; of the tail
(with its fur) ten inches. ;
Slow in its movements, and destitute of activity, it
makes up by perseverance and industry for every de-
ficiency, and, at a steady pace, pursués its prey for
miles,—hunts out weak or dying animals, and destroys
hares, marmots, and birds, which it seizes unawares.
Buffon, relying on the accounts of Olaus Magnus, Is-
brand, and others, has contributed to render current
the statement—=whieh many later naturalists have con-
sidered not incredible—that it has recourse to the
most subtle artifice in order to surprise its victims ;—
and that it lurks in the branches of trees until the rein-
deer approaches to browse beneath, or the elk to take
repose, when it throws itself upon them with unerring
rapidity, fixes its strong claws in their skin, and begins
at once to tear and devour, till the wretched sufferer,
exhausted by pain and loss of blood, sinks down and
iniserably dies,—when it devours the carcase at its
ease, leaving nothing but the skin and_ skeleton.
Gmelin, in his account of his journey through Siberia,
after quoting the statement of Isbrand, adds,—* This
address of the glutton in managing to seize animals by
surprise 1s confirmed by all the. hunters.” * * © Al.
thouelh it feeds on all animals, living or dead, it prefers
the reindeer. It lies in wait for large animals, as a
robber on the highway,—and it also surprises them as
they lie asleep.” He also adds, that it visits the traps
and snares of the fur-hunters of Siberia, for the sake of
the animals taken in them ;
isatis (Cossac for) complain bitterly of the mischief
which the glutton does. ‘his deseription of the injury
suffered by the fur-hunters from its depredations in a
ereat measure tallies with that of Dr. Richardson, who,
in allusion to the glutton, or wolverene, of the northern
revions of America, says, that it is “a carnivorous
animal, which feeds chiefly npon the carcases of beasts
that have been killed by accident. It has great
strength, and annoys the natives by destroying thei
hoards of provision, and demolishing their marten-traps.
It is so suspicious that it will seldom enter a trap itself,
but, beginning behind, pulls it to pieces, scatters the
logs of which it is built, and then carries off the bait.
It feeds also on meadow-mice, marmots, and other
Rodentia, and, occasionally, on disabled quadrupeds of
a larger size. J have seen one chasing an American
hare, which was at the same time harassed by a snowy
owl. It resembles the bear in its gait, and is not
flect, but it is very industrious, and no doubt feeds well,
as it is generally.fat. It is much abroad in the winter,
and the track of its journey, in a single night, may
often be traced for many miles, rom the shortness of
its legs, it makes its way over the snow with difficulty ;
but when it falls upon the beaten-track of a marten-
trapper, it will pursue it for a long way. Mr.-Graham
observes, that the wolverenes are extremely mischievous,
and do more damage to the small-fur trade than all the
other rapacious animals conjointly. ‘hey will follow
the marten-hunter’s path round a line of traps extend-
ing forty, fifty, or sixty miles, and render the whole
unserviceable merely to come at the baits, which are
generally the head of a partridge or a bit of dried
venison. ‘They are not fond of the deus themselves,
but never: fail of tearing them in pieces, or of burying
them in:the snow by the side of the path, at a consider-
able distance from the trap. Drifts of snow often con-
ceal the repositories thus made of the martens from the
hunter, in which case they furnish a regale to the
hungry fox, whose sagacious nostril euides him wuner-
ringly to the spot.
following the’ wolverene for this purpose.’
Of all eine on which the wolverene habitually
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
and that the hunters of the
Tw or three foxes are often seen |:
[January 2],
preys, the beaver is said to be the one which suffers the
most from its ferocity, and this the more especially as
that aquatic animal is slow on land, and cannot escape
pursuit. It is only, however, during the summer that
the beaver thus-falls a victim to its enemy; for in the
winter the beaver is safely housed, the walls of its habi-
tation not only being thick and solid, but frozen as
hard as stone, —defying the attempt of any animal,
by means of its claws, however strong, to effect an
entrance. Buffon applies the term “ vautour des
guadrupedes” (the vulture of quadrupeds) to the
olutton, adding that it is more insatiable, more ‘de-
structive than the wolf, and that, were it not for its
want of agility, it would exterminate every animal,
Of its voracity there 1 is no doubt; but the term “ vul-
ture of quadrupeds ” is by no means appropriate.
With respect to the stratagem so universally attri-
buted to the glutton of lurking on the branches of
moss-grown trees, and even of enticing the reindeer to
approach by throwing down the lichen on which this’
animal feeds, Dr. Richardson observes, that it is not
resorted to by the American wolverene, and he appears
to disbelieve the account. Desmarest, however, adopts
it as an authenticated fact, relying on the authority of
the early writers. There are probably some details con-
nected with this belief which would explain its apparent
exaggeration. ‘That the glutton may steal upon the
reindeer asleep, or attack weak or dying deer, or young
fawns, is very probable; but that it is capable of such
artifice and address as are imphed in the account
alluded to, requires to be better authenticated before it
can be received as truth. Gmelin himself throws a
doubt upon it, for one of those animals having ad-
vanced into the midst of a party of labourers with grave
and deliberate steps, as if stupidly indifferent to danger,
and having suffered itself to be dispatched without re-
sistance, he adds, ** After the tales which the hunters
of Siberia for many years had told me of the address
of this animal, in supplying by stratagem the agility
denied it by nature, and in avoiding the snares of man,
I was very much astonished to see this come delibe-
rately, and as if on purpose, in the midst of us, to seek
its own destruction,”’
When attacked by other animals the elutton fights
desperately, and three stout dogs are said to be scarcely
its match. Isbrand says, that a Waivode, who kept
one tame, threw it one day into the water, and set upon
it a couple of dogs, when it immediately seized one by
the head and held it under water till it was drowned.
It does not, however, defend itself so energetically
against man, from whose presence it usually endea-
vours to escape, and is easily dispatched by a hunter
with no other weapon than a stick. In Lapland the
elutton is common, and Scheffer, in his ‘ History of
Lapland,’ informs us that it not only preys upon wild
animals, but commits havoc among such as are domes-
ticated, wad even amone fish. This statement reminds
us of a well-authenticated account of a polecat, related
by Bewick on his own knowledge, resorting to the
water for prey. ‘“ During a severe storm, one of these
animals was traced on the snow from the side of a
rivulet to its hole at some distance from it. As it was
observed to have made frequent trips, and as other
marks were seen on the snow, which could not easily
be accounted for, it was thought? a matter worthy of
closer examination; its hole was accordingly exa-
mined, the foumart (polecat) taken, and eleven fine
eels were discovered to be the fruits of its nocturnal
excursions. The marks on the snow were found to
have been made by the motion of the eels in the crea-
ture’s mouth.”
‘The glutton is for the most part nocturnal, prowling
all night in quest of food, and, however severe the
weather, its tracks, and the proofs of its rapine are
A
16373]
always to be found: it does not hybernate, as does the
bear in the high northern latitudes, but remains in full
activity throughout the year; it digs holes in which to
conceal itself, and leads a solitary life, depending upon
its unassisted resources. 'The bodily strength is almost
incredible, and the depredations it is thus enabled to
commit, would in many eases be attributed to human
plunderers rather than to this nightly prowler, were not
the proofs indisputable. Hearne mentions that on one
occasion the greater part of a pile of wood, measuring
upwards of seventy yards round, had been entirely
disarranged in the course of a few weeks by a single
wolverene, for the purpose of securing some meat that
had been placed there for the sake of concealment;
amongst this pile were many trees of such dimensions
as to require two men to lift them. ‘he fact that a
work of stich labour was here executed by a creature
not larger than a setter might have been questioned,
but having taken place during thé winter season, the
impressions that Were discovered on thé snow placed it
beyond all doubt.
The fur of the glutton is in much request, that of the
Siberian animal is the finest, being very glossy and
approaching to black. The female produces once a-
year, the cubs being from two to four in number; their
fur is soft; dowiny; arid of a pale yellowish white.
RECENT STATE OF THE RECORDS _
Tut Records aiid State Papers of this king@dom liad for
a long period bééri iiucli fieglectedd: Soiné time since,
a Commission was appointed to éxdmine into their
state, and hake arrangetiiénts for feiidering them
useful. Subsequently; a seléct Patliamentaty Com-
mittee has héén exdiiiiiif into the proceedings rider
the Commiéssidii; aiid have just ptiblished an immeise
folio volume, contaifiing their Report atid thé evidence
brought before them. 'Thé stibject is 4 very importaiit
one, and we may possibly recur to it; but in the mean
{ime the following extract from the evidence of Mr.
Henry Cole shows the existence of a degree of indif-
ference to the due care and preservation of such docu-
ments which would be ridiculous if of less consequence.
It is to be premised that the records alluded to had
been removed inore than once, on different accounts,
and that their last removal had been fromm Westininster
Hall. Mr. Cole says :-— . :
“The great bulk of those rewarded as Miscellaneous
Records, which comprised records of all periods from
Richard I. to George IV:, were heaped together iti two
large sheds or bins in the King’s Mews. The dimen-
sions of the larger of these sheds were, 14 feet in height,
14 feet in width, and 16 feet in depth; of the smaller,
thé dimensions were 10 feet in height, 5 feet in width,
and 16 feet in depth. In these sheds, 4136 cubic feet of
national records were deposited, in the most neglected
condition, besides the accumulated dust ofcenturies. All,
per,
when these operations [of sorting and arranging] com-.
menced, were found to be very damp; some were in astate
of inseparable adhesion to the stone walls; there were
numerous fragments which had only just escaped entire
consumption by vermin; and many were 11 the last
stage of putrefaction. Decay and damp had rendered
a laree quantity so fragile as hardly to admit of being
touched; others, particularly those in the form of rolls,
were so coagulated together that they could not be un-
coiled.
rally distributed throughout the mass; and, besides
furnishing a charnel-house for the dead, during the
first removal of these national records, a dog was em-
ployed in hunting the live rats, which were thus dis-
turbed from their nests.
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
Six or seven perfect skeletons of rats were
found imbedded, and bones of these vermin were gvene-
It was impossible to prosecute
19
in this position ; indeed, a slow process of selecting or
separating any portions could not have been thus
endured, even by the greatest physical strength, or the
greatest stock of patience. The first step taken was to
divide the mass into small and approachable portions.
Accordingly, three Irish labourers, besides superintend-
ing assistance, together with the dog aforesaid, were
employed, during a fortnight, in removing this deposit
of national records, and placing it in sacks; and nothing
but strong stimulants sustained the men in working
among such a mass of putrid filth, stench, dirt, and de-
composition: In this removal, not less than 24 bushels
of dust and the most minute particles of parchment and
paper were collected; 500 sacks of national records
were filled from these sheds, each sack containing eicht
bushels; so that from this locality alone 4000 bushels of
every species of record were obtained. From various
other parts of the King’s Mews about 800 bushels of
records were collected.” b
“Was any cat found?" A cat was subsequently
found; and if the Coimmittee are disposed to see it, I
can produce it, as well as the skeletons of the rats.”
[The Witness produced and exhibited to the Committee
the remains of @ cat and some rats. ]
SUPPLY OF LARGE CAPITALS WITH FOOD.
[Continued from No, 307.1
In the ‘ Arinuaire,’ published by the Bureau des Lon-
gitudes, the consumption of butter in Paris in 1834 is
Stated to have aimounted in valiie to 420,070l.; and
thé eoisumption of ega's in the same year is valued at
176;583/, No estimiate is giveti of the value or quan-
tity of fresh cheese annually coiisumed, but it probably
equals thé consumption of diy cheese, which is valued
at 46,000/. a-year. ‘There are several places in France
celebrated for the quality of the cheese which they pro-
duce, arid amongst the better cheeses may be named
the fromages de Roquefort, in the department of the.
Aveyron; those of the Mont d’Or, in the Puy-de-Déme;
of Neufchatel, in the Seine Inferieure; of Montpellier ;
of Sassenage, in the Isere; of Marolles; of Lanegres;
of Brie; of the department of the Cantal; besides
many others. The peculiar qualities of some of them
are owing to their being made with goats’ milk, and
also with the milk of ewes. Some of the above-men-
tioned descriptions of cheese are dry and others are fresh.
There is also a tolerably large consumption of Swiss
cheese; principally of the kind called Gruyére. The
common roulid Dutch cheese is also in request, and
occasionally Cheshire and Gloucester cheese may be
seen in the stores of some of the principal purveyors,
who ransack the world for the gratification of the gour-
mand. ‘lhe value of the cheese annually imported into
France amounts to above 650,000/. per annum, and
about one-sixth of this amount is exported. In Lon-
don the consumption of butter is believed to average
about 20 lbs. for each person per year, and the con-
sumption in Paris is probably about one-fourth less,
There is, however, the greatest difference as to the
manner in which butter is used in the two capitals, the
chief consumption being at the morning and afternoon
meal in London, while there is no repast in France
which answers to that one which, amongst the great
majority of the people, follows that of dinner in Eng-
land; and butter does not necessarily form part of a
French breakfast, so that the quantity consumed is
almost wholly employed in culinary preparations. ‘The
butter brought to the Paris market is in large masses or
lumps, in a fresh state; and instead of being conveyed
in barrels, is wrapped up in cloths, as shown in the
engraving. It is sold in the market by auction. Tlie
present market-house was erected for the accomimoda-
any measure of assortine whilst the records. remained | tion of the dealers in 1822, and is Of a triaugular form,
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[Market for Butter, Eggs, and Chet at Paris. |
the roof being supported by stone pillars. It is lighted
from the top “by a glazed cupola, beneath which is the
bureau de vente, where the auctioneer and his assistants
stand. The market opens every day at noon. On
Monday and Friday the country people in the neigh-
bourhood bring their butter and eggs; on Tuesday the
market is open only for the sale “of cheese; on Wed-
nesday, the butter of Issigny, a place some distance
from Paris, is exclusively sold; and on Thursday and
Saturday, only the butter of Gournay, a small town in
the department of the Seine Inferieure. Normandy is,
indeed, the great source from whence Paris draws its
supply of food.
In the ‘Penny Magazine,’ No. 306, some remarks
were made as to the. principles which were brought
into operation in supplying large capitals with food,
and it was intimated that in the course of the French
Revolution some striking examples occurred which ex-
hibited the consequences attending the derangement of
these principles ; and as a brief notice of these circum:
stances might prove interesting and not be altogether
uninstructive, the present opportunity is taken for giving
the details which were then promised. In a pamphlet
published by Mr. Burke, in the year 1795, entitled
‘Thoughts and Details on Scarcity,’ he commenced his
work as follows :—“ Of all things an indiscreet tamper-
ing with the trade of provisions is the most dangerous,
and it is always worst in the time when men are most
disposed to it: that is, in the time of scarcity. Because
there is nothing on which the passions of men are so
violent, and their judgment so weak, and on which
there exists such a multitude of ill-founded prejudices.”
These truths have been applicable to all times, but it
will be seen that they were peculiarly so during the
period in question.
The public anxiety in Paris respecting the supply of
provisions was awakened in 1789,-the year in which the
States-General were assembled. One of the political
parties inte which the country was divided had, previous
to the harvest, dispatched couriers into the provinces
with alarming rumours that the ‘ brigands,” employed
by the enemies of the national regeneration, had the
intention of cutting down the corn before it was ripe.
The object of this proceeding was to arm the people
in support of the national rights, though it is contended
by some that it was the opponents of ‘change who had
adopted this course, calculating upon the support of the
country against the violent partisans of the revolution.
At all events it had the effect of arming the whole of
France. The alarm thus engendered proved most in-
Jurious to the public confidence, and the rich farmers,
instead of bringing their produce into the markets,
preferred waiting the arrival of qnieter times. «As
supporters of the Revolution, Necker and Bailly,
fearing that its success would be prejudiced by popu-
lar tumults arising from the scarcity of food in Paris,
made creat sacrifices for the supply of the capital,
but without much success. The markets were ill-sup-
plied, and prices became excessively high; land carriage
was difficult and expensive, owing to the necessity ‘of
recurring to a wider range of markets ; and robberies
were frequently committed on the read, for the scarcity,
though most severely felt in Paris, pressed upon the
whole country. On the 5th of October, a tumult which
originated with the market-women of Paris, occasioned
the celebrated movement of the populace to Versailles,
1337.]
whither they marched in disorderly masses, : uttering
cries for bread. ‘The distance of this place is abont
twelve miles from Paris, and the- journey there and
back could not be performed by such a multitude in a
single day. During the night a tolerable degree of
order was preserved, but early, in the morning the
palace was forcibly entered, and the queen had barely
time to leave her sleeping apartment. ‘The state of
ignorance in which the people had been kept may be
judged of by the fact of their believing that proceedings
of this nature could by any possible means have the
effect of restoring plenty. :
Three years afterwards, in 1792, the harvest was
late, and owing to the number of mei required for the
armies, the threshing out of the grain had not proceeded
very actively; but, as in 1789, other causes of a more
powerful nature were at work. Under ordinary cir-
cumstances, the farmer would have availed himself of a
period of high prices to dispose of his grain, and labonr,
which was deficient, would lave been stimulated by
higher wages. The employment most profitable for
the moment would have invited all the disposable
labour at hand, and abundance would .soon have been
visible in the markets. ‘This would have taken place if
the natural circumstances under which men act had
been allowed their free operation; but a number of
vexatious regulations had been adopted with a view of
forcing supplies into the markets. The most absurd
ideas were fermenting in men’s minds, and the sans
culottes had raised a clamour against the large farmers,
whom they designated as “aristocrats,” a term which a
short time afterwards was sufficient to bring a man to
the scaffold. The surplus produce of a large farm is
greater in proportion than that of asmall farm; but,
said these economists, the large farms ought to be
divided. The more fiercely the farmers were attacked,
the less disposed were they to expose themselves to the
risk of pillage, and to injurious regulations; and of
course the scarcity became greater. The supplies which
were furnished being small, were sold at an exorbitant
price.
These difficulties were increased by the creation of a
new paper money, intended to represent the national
domains, the property of the church, and the estates of
the emigrants, which the National Convention had
taken into its hands, for the purpose of defraying the
expense of the war. ‘To put in circulation the value of
this property the assignats were resorted to. They
were intended to represent this property, and as it
found purchasers the assignats were to be called in.
The value of this money fluctuated from day to day, for
if fhe revolution lost the ascendancy in the nation, and
the ancient state of things was restored, it was con-
ceived that the currency which the revolution had
created for its own purposes and wants would be dis-
honoured, and of no value; and the fear that all sales
of public property would become null and void kept
back purchasers. Nevertheless, the quantity of assi-
gnats emitted was prodigious, and their value, as com-
pared with specie and merchandise, was constantly
diminishing, as they remained in circulation without re-
presenting an equivalent value. ‘The working classes,
who received their wages in assignats, could not com-
mand the necessaries of life. Not only bread, but
sugar, coffee, candles, and soap doubled their prices.
The washerwomen complained to the National Con-
vention that they paid thirty sous for soap which they
formerly obtained for fourteen sous. ‘The people were
told to ask a higher price for their labour, in order
that the proportion between their wages and the price
of consumable articles might be re-established; but
this arrangement they could not effect, and they de-
nounced as objects of vengeance those whom they
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
21
termed the mercantile aristocracy. On the 25th of
February, 1793, Marat addressed the people in his
newspaper, stating that the only means of putting an
end to the evils of which they complained was to pillage
the shops, and to hang up the shopkeepers at their own
doors.. ‘This advice was followed: at first the shop-
keepers were compelled to sell their commodities at half-
price; and the next step, and it was scarcely in any degree
more unjust, was to take them without paying anything
at all. The difficulties of the shopkeepers themselves
were not less than those which the other classes of the
people endured. ‘They were backward in disposing of
their goods in exchange for a currency whose value
underwent daily changes, but they willingly sold if
payments were made in coin, as the metallic currency
alone remained the real standard of value. ‘The gene-
ral distribution of the necessaries of life became impos-
sible under these circumstances. The people who re-
ceived only assignats in vain endeavoured to procure
the necessaries of life in exchange for them.
Amidst these harassing: difficulties, it was determined
that, as the anticipated value of the national property
had been put into forced circulation, it was necessary
to sustain its value by forced means. ‘The Convention
decreed that, whoever was found guilty of exchanging a
higher (nominal) value of assignats against a smaller
quantity of coin, silver or gold, should be punished
with imprisonment in irons for six years; and that the
same penalty should be inflicted upon whoever stipu-
lated for a different price for payments made in paper
or specie. Notwithstanding these heavy penal enact-
ments, it was impossible that the difference. in value
which was inseparable from the two species of money ,
should not have its due action in some shape or other.
In June, a franc in coin was worth three francs in
assignats; and in August, oniy two months afterwards,
a frane in silver was worth six assignats. Merchants
and shopkeepers refused to sell their commodities at
the same price as formerly, because payment was
offered to them in a currency which had no more than
a fifth or sixth of its value. Persons in official em-
ployments, the creditors of the state, and creditors
generally, could not live upon their deteriorated pro-
perty or income,.and the working-classes were in the
greatest distress. It was suggested, as a means of
remedying the general misfortunes, that a fixed price
should be set upon all merchandise and produce. The
law had decreed that an assignat was worth so many
francs, and had prohibited payments being made or de
manded of so many assignats as made up the difference
in value between the assignat in paper and in coin;
but it was necessary to advance a step further, and to
fix a value upon all saleable articles. In May, 1793,
the Convention passed a decree by which the farmers
and corn-dealers were obliged to declare the quantity of
erain they had in stock, to thresh out that which was
in ear,—to carry the produce into the markets, and
into the markets only,—and to sell it, not at a price
determined by the nature of things, but at a price fixed
upon by the revolutionary authorities in each parish,
which price was based on the prices of an anterior
period. Nobody was permitted to buy more than was
required for his personal wants for a period not exceed-
ing one month; and those who bought or sold at a
price higher than that which had been fixed upon by
the above-mentioned authorities were punished with
confiscation, aud penalties of from 12¢. to 40/.. Domi-
ciliary visits were made for the purpose of verifying the
statements of the farmers and dealers. The revolu-
tionary authorities of Paris framed regulations which
were to be strictly observed by the inhabitants on re-
ceiving their supply of bread from the bakers. Cards
were delivered, on which was stated the quantity of
22
bread to which the bearer was entitled, the proportion
being according to the number of each famine a ne
revolutionary committees even regulated the order to
be observed in applying at the bakers. A cord was to
be attached to the baker's door, and each person as he
arrived took hold of it, and was served in his proper
turn. The cord was sometimes cut by mischievous
persons, \ when tumults ensued, and the armed force was
cilled in to quell the disturbance. It must be re-
marked that all this time there was no real scarcity of
corn in the country. ‘The immense task of supplying
Paris with bread, which the government had taken
upon its shoulders, the vexatious reculations of minor
authorities, were each the consequence of a derange-
ment and subversion of the ordinary principles of sup-
ply and demand, which these authorities had brought
about by a system of interference with private interests.
One step was necessarily followed by another. The
circulation of the assignats being forced, it became ne-
cessary to fix prices within rigid limits, to force sales,
and to regulate even the hour, the quantity, and the
mode of distribution. As many of the dealers closed
their shops, in order to avoid the ruin with which they
were menaced by the system of interfering with their
coricerns, they became the objects of hostile denuncia-
tions. At the same time the supplies intended for the
capital were pillaged on the highways, and on the
canals and rivers. The authorities éndeavoured to
repress these outrages, and Pache, the mayor, caused.
the following address to be posted on the walls of
Pale —
“<The Mayor Pache to his Fellow-(Qitizens :
‘Paris contains 700,000 inhabitants. The soil of
Paris produces nothing for their nourishment or their
clothing, and it follows that everything must be ob-
tained from other departments and from abroad. If
prodtice and merchandise intended for the markets of
Paris are pillaged, the producers and manufacturers
will cease to send supplies. Paris will no longer be
able to obtain either clothirie or the means of sujiport:
ine its numerous inhabitants, and 700;000 starvilig
men will devour each other!”
In spite of this appeal to common seiise it was impos-
sible to restore confiderice, and the markets were nearly
unsupplied. The Convention endeavoured to remedy
this by an increased severity, and it was enacted that
all sales which did not take place in the public markets
should subject the seller to the punishment of death.
The most vexatious and ingnisitorial means were re-
sorted to for the purpose of secnring attention to this
reculation. Every merchant and dealer was required
to make a declaration of the amount of his stock, and
fraudulent attempts to conceal the real quantity sub-
jected tlie unhappy individual to capital punishment,
Persous distinguished for their attachment, to the revo-
lution were appointed i in each parish, and they fixed the
price of all saleable commodities at a rate which it was
presumed would leave a moderate profit, and not be
beyoud the means of the poor consumers; but, never-
theless, sales were to be made whether any profit re-
inained or not. These inflexible regulations occasioned
a still wreater number of dealers of all kinds to close
their soops. ‘The retail dealers were alone subjected
to them at first, but it was soon apparent that the pro-
ducers ought also to be under their control. The retail
dealer was not In a position in whieh he could influence |
the price of the raw material, or the rate of wages paid
to the workmen by whom it was prepared for the mar-
ket; and, in order to avoid enormous losses, they sold
hone but articles of the most inferior quality at the
prices fixed by the authorities. ‘’he butchers bought
cattle which had died, and the bakers did not half bake
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
[JANUARY 21,
the bread, in order to make it weigh heavier. They
reserved articles of the best qnality for those who came
in a secret manner and paid the full value. ‘These
practices were suspected by the people, and they de-
marided that all the dealers should be compelled to
keep open their shops and continue their trade; and
that the revulations enacted for their observance should
be strictly obeyed. Chaumette, the Procureur-General
of the Commune of Paris, threatened that the shops
and manufactories which had been closed should be
taken in possession on behalf of the Republic, with all
the goods and materials which they contained.
[To be concluded in our next.]
Co. ee ete ee ee ee
ORDERS OF KNIGHTHOOD.
A CLEAR and satisfactory sketch of the history of chi-
valry, or knighthood, is somewhat difficult to accom-
plish. Romance and reality are so mixed up in onf
notions of it that they can hardly be separated: Idéal
chivalry and the chivalry of history are two distinct
things: yet their influences and characteristics, like
warp and woof, are interwoven ; and (to carry on the
figure) the dark ground of the real is relieved by the
brilliant colours of the imaginative.
Perhaps the nearest analogy to our hotions of chi-
valry may be found in what were, until a comparatively
recént period, our notions of the character and condition
of the North American Indians. Looking at them from
a distance atid through the medium of the imagination,
they appeared the noblest of the different races of un-
civilized man. Brave, resolute, patient, hospitable to
the stranger though implacable to his foe, as grave at
the council-fire as fierce in battle, and though sparing
in speech, yet truly eloquent when ronsed to words, the
Red Man of the forest seemed a coticeritration of the
rude virtues of savage life. ‘There was just so much
truth in this as to make us wish and believe that the
picture was true throughout. But a nearer view of his
character and condition dispels the illusion, and reveals
| wretchediiess, degradation, and misery, accompaiiiéd by
unromantic passidiis and habits over which tlte imaei-
lation had drawn a veil.
The pictures of chivalry which have been given us,
not merely by poets and romahcers (fot they may claim
their privilege), but by historians, professing to write
orave and authentic facts, have been calculated to foster
all our illusions. Ti thinking of chivalry, we naturally
imagine a system in which nobility, valour, generosity,
courteousness, beanty, and accomplishments, are all
combined. We see the knight, his helm crowned with
nodding plume, bearing his emblazoned shield, mounted
on his “oallant war- -steed, and gaily ° pricking oer the
plain ;” the lady of his affection presiding at some
tournament, as the queen of beauty and of love, of
inspiring her lover with enthusiasm to accomplish deeds
of arms; and these principal personages are surrounded
with every circumstauce calculated to cheat the jude-
ment into a belief of the reality of the picture.
The reason or cause of this lies deep in human na-
ture. ‘The earliest and the largest portion of the litera-
ture of every nation belongs to the imagination, It is
ever prone to embody its creatious of the fair and beau-
tiful in human shape ;—it is ever beut on acting on the
principle expressed by the old poet, quoted in Words-
worth's ‘ &ixcursion :’—
“ Unless above himself he can
Erect himself, how poor a thing j is man!”
The things, therefore, which the imagination busies
itself about are Tose which touch ie affections and
interest of man. Ina rude and warlike nation, fielit-
ing is the favourite theme. Fyrom the earliest period of
4
1887.
the world the poet has magnitied the exploits and cha-
racters of heroes,—and sung of the one slaying his
thousands, and the other his tens of thousands. Set-
ting aside the literature, of other countries, what a large
amount of our own is thus occupied !
Chivalry and Knighthood have been long synony-
mous terms. They are different, howeyer, in their
origin. We take chivalry from the French (from cheval,
a horse), and the French took it, like the Spaniards
and Italians, from the Latin. It has the same origin
as our word ‘ cavalry,’ and simply means, in ‘its
primitive sense, military service on horseback. ‘The
word ‘* knighthood’ comes from the German or Saxon
“ kmieht,’”? which was used primarily to designate a
servant, and then the immediate body-attendants or
servants of the feudal lord. ‘The two terms gradually
came to mean the same thing. From the personal
distinction which was attached to the office of a knight, |
and the importance and superiority which a body of
well-armed horsemen had over large numbers of in-
fantry, knighthood was a personal distinction ;—a man
might be a knight without reference to any other title
or dignity, or whether he had possessions or not.
Hence, under the feudal tenures, it was assumed that
the king could compel a man to be a knight, if he were
possessed of a certain amount of property; and smali
grants were given frequently to poor knights.
Chivalry itself is just as airy and impalpable a thing
as Fashion, though, like that visionary monarch, it had
its arbitrary laws and necessary accomplishments. But
though chivalry did not exist in an organised form, the
spirit of chivalry produced a number of institutions,
some of which exist to this day, (and many have been
created in modern times, in imitation of them,) which
are known as *“‘ OrnvERS oF KNIGHTHOOD.”,
After the complete fall of the Roman empire, and
the tremendous disorganization of society produced by
it, the Feudal System arose. Under this system a large
portion of Europe was parcelled out, and these parcels
were again subdivided by the grants made by the chief
holders to their more immediate attendants. All these
lords claimed absolute dominion within their own limits.
To become the knights, or body guard, attendants, or
warriors of these lords, was an object of ambition to
their dependents, especially if, by the privilege, they
obtained the advantage of being clothed in the best of
the rude armour of the time, and of being mounted on
horseback. Then, as it was the custom to declare the
youth a warrior, by some ceremony, such as presenting
him with a javelin, or girding him with a sword, in
public assembly, we may see in this the origin of all
those ceremonies which came, in course of time, to be
attached to the making of a knight. A great portion
of these ceremonies were added hy the chureh. The
kni¢ht was sworn to be faithful to religion as well as
to his feudal lord. We must never forget, in estimating
influences, what religion did, even in the roughest and
darkest times, for the elevation of motive and feeling.
At the end of the eleventh century occurred that ex-
traordinary irruption of barbarians on the East, which
is known as the First Crusade. ‘The vast numbers who
perished in that wild adventure by sword, fire, and
famine, naturally suggesied the idea of having a better
organized, more compact, and disciplined body than
that of savage and tumultuous hosts, in order to con-
quer and defend the Holy Land. Such a notion, pro-
bably but dimly seen at first, and only developed by
circumstances, paved the way for the formation of the
religio-military orders of knighthood, the Knights Tem-
plars, the Knights Hospitallers (better known as the
Knights of Malta), and the Teutonic knights. Of the
two first orders accounts have been already given in
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
‘28
framed upon the feudal model, that of coinpanionship
or brotherhood, and obedience to a chief. But as their
professed object was a higher one than that of mere
plunder and conquest, religious enthusiasm being added
to martial zeal, their formation may be termed the first
step in the moral elevation of chivalry, or that which
more immediately led to its being condensed into a
system such as it afterwards became. Spain, which
from its occupation by the Moors, presented a some-
what analogous case to the Holy Land, had also re-
ligio-military orders, which were founded in the twelfth
and beginning of the thirteenth centuries.
But a very considerable interval elapsed between the
formation of the religious orders of knighthood, and
the institution of lay orders. In fact lay orders were
not created till towards the decline of the true chivalric
period, (that is, the chivalric period of history) when
language, character, and manners had become greatly
modified, and even comparatively polished. For this
we are indebted to the minstrels and the heralds. The
minstrels began their operation on the English language
and character after the Norman conquest; but during
the twelfth century both appear rude and unformed.
Norman French was the language of the conquerors—
Anglo-Saxon that of the great bulk of the people. But
the necessity for some communication would lead both
parties to learn something of each other’s speech. Ellis
supposes that the Saxon language and literature began
to be mixed with the Norman about 1180; and that
in 1216 the change may be considered as complete.
This supposition can only be taken in a limited sense,
for the two languages continued to be used indepen-
dently of each other, and the Anglo-Saxon continued
the only speech of numbers till a much later period.
‘* During the reign of our Norman kings,” says Ellis,
“fa poet, who was also expected to nnite with the talent
of versifying those of music and recitation, was a reeu-
Jar officer in the royal household, as well as in those of
the more wealthy nobles, whose courts were composed
upon the same model.” The ecclesiastical minstrels
sung the holy deeds and wonderful acts of saints: the
lay minstrels struck another chord, and arrested the
attention of their auditors by describing the matchless
prowess and fearful transactions of heroes and en-
chanters. Orif they flattered the pride of some haughty
noble, by exaggerating his deeds, it was nothing more
than might be expected from them. The transition
from praising their patrons as irresistible conquerors to
describing’ them as the protectors of the weak and de-
fenceless, was natural enough. We owe a debt of
gratitude to these minstrels, most of whom earned their
bread by gross flattery. By magnifying the characters
of those whom they flattered, and ascribing to them
virtues and accomplishments far beyond their aim, they
created the wish to be something like the poet’s fancy,
and assisted that amelioration of manners which we
can perceive going forward during the twelfth and
thirteenth centuries. Along with the minstrels came
the heralds, and assailed the vanity of the feudal lords
on another quarter. In the early stage of the feudal
system, genealogy and antiquity of family were little
attended ‘to by those who rested their merits on their
swords. But when one generation came to succeed
another in the possession of property, the mystic art or
science of heraldry sprung up, and, along with min-
strelsy, moulded the imaginary chivalry. of which we
have spoken.
Towards the end of the twelfth century, certain cha-
racteristics began to be associated with the name and
profession of a knights The rude adventurous cha-
racter of Richard I. assisted this. But we should form
a most erroneous notion, if, in a history of chivalry, we
the fifth yolume of the ‘ Penny Magazine,’ They were | were to begin with the thirteenth century, and passing
24
from one gallant deed of arms to another, exhibit
nothing but a succession of brilliant scenes*. In the
language of M. Sismond, “ great deeds were done, and
noble characters were formed, by this republic of gen-
tlemen, constituted by the feudal system: but the ima-
gination of romance writers alone could look for the
courtesy and elegance which are the charm of society
under these rough and austere forms. ‘The haughtiness
of the knight or baron inclined him to a solitary life ;
without the walls of his castle, whenever he was no
longer the first, whenever he received the law instead
o giving it, his pride was wounded or alarmed. Chi-
valrous life was a life of mutual repulsion ; and, with
the exception of the rare occasions when the knight was
summoned to the courts of justice, to the armies of his
suzerain, for the space of forty days, or to tournaments,
equals in station avoided each other; neither friendship
nor social pleasures were made for those times.” To
this we may add, that tournaments were rough and
brutal amusements, and that it was only towards the
decline and fall of feudal chivalry that they became the
theatrical displays which they are represented to be in
romances. <A strong proof that tournaments were dan-
gerous assemblies is afforded by the ‘ Statute of Arins,’
the date of which is uncertain, but which is supposed
to have been passed shortly before the time of Ed-
ward III. It is stated to have been made at ‘the
request of the earls, barons, and chivalry of England,”
and besides restricting the combatants to blunt weapons,
inflicts a penalty of seven years imprisonment on any of
the common people who came armed to see the amuse-
ment. lly ,
Here it may not be out of place to remind the reader,
who may have read Scott’s *‘ Ivanhoe,’ and set it down
in his own mind as a correct delineation of the state of
society in the time of Richard I. (that is, the close of
the twelfth century), that much of the description of
manners there given belongs to a period upwards of a
hundred and fifty, or rather nearer to two hundred,
years later. Scott himself intimates this in his preface.
He says he took for his guide the chronicles of the
time, but that they were ‘‘dimmed by such a conglo-
meration of uninteresting and unintelligible matter,”
that he gladly fled for relief to “* the delightful pages
of the gallant Froissart, although he flourished at a
period so much more remote from the date of my his-
tory.” Now the long interval between the reign of
Richard I. and the reigns of Edward III. and Richard IT,,
during which Froissart lived, was a most important
period. It may be conipared to the years between mere
boyhood and full-developed youth. Great changes were
effected on character, habits, and manners. Certainly,
the love of knightly display, and the eager thirst of the
people for tournaments, as well as many other minor
particulars, indicating a comparative advancement and
refinement of manners, belong not to the early period
to which Scott has assigned them, but to the more gay
and polished days of Froissart.
Sull, though there was a great advance made during
the period alluded to, the improvement must be under-
stood as comparative. ‘The character of Edward I,
far-reaching as it was, and superior in many thing's to
his age, shows that the chivalry of real life was behind
that of the poets; aud the disastrous reign and death
of Edward IJ., the immediate predecessor of him of
whom it is said that “the sun of English chivalry
reached its meridian in the reien of Edward IJIL.,”
* In the ‘ Award made between the king (Henry III.) and the
Commons at Kenilworth,’ 1266, printed in the ‘Statutes of the
Realm,’ provision is made for the ransom of such “ knights and
esquires as were robbers, and principal robbers, in wars and rodey ,
and such as had neither lands nor goods were to be pardoned on
swearing by the gospels to keep the peace.
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
[January 21, 1837.
confirm this conviction. But Gower, and especially
Chaucer, flourished in the reians of Edward III. and
Richard If. The works of Chaucer evince not merely
his own genius, but the rapid advances which were
making in national manners.
It was in the reign of Edward III. that the first
English order of knighthood was founded. Chivalry
became a picturesque thing, and served the double pur-
pose of keeping retainers in training for war, and of
amusing: their leisure hours. Henry V. was a gay and
chivalrous prince, who strove to uphold the chivalric
spirit; and it was in his reign that it first became a
fashion to adorn the helmet with the “ nodding plume,”
which our imaginations associate with all periods of
chivalric history*. | —, ,
A. very good idea of what the prevailing taste was,
in these last days of active chivalry, may be gathered
from the circumstance of the father of English printing,
Caxton, selecting for publication a number of the fa-
vourite romances and‘ chivalric tales, and also two
works, one on the origin of chivalry, and another on
‘ Faytes of Armes and Chivalry.’
Passing over the civil wars, we come to the reins of
Henry VII. and Henry VIII., when the elements of
civilization began to settle down.. Chivalry supposes a
rude and unsettled state of society, when the strong
arm is frequently more powerful than the restraints of
law and’ order... It was because the brave and gallant
knight,—performing deeds of valour,—protecting the
oppressed,—clearing the hiehways of monsters, human
and inhuman,—inspired by a motive above the ordinary
morality,—was a possible character, and that, in the
hands of the poets, it often became a delightful cha-
racter, that our ancestors were pleased by it, and at
times tried to imitate it. But the reign of Henry VIII.,
down to near the close of the reien of Elizabeth, was
the last age of chivalric splendour. Indeed, the reien
of Elizabeth cannot be included. The transition in
manners was rapidly going on; and she herself marked
it when she said, that ‘* in former times force and arms
did prevail ;- but now the wit of the fox was everywhere
afoot.” Yet it was during this period that the chivalry
of poetry received its noblest illustrations.—Shakspeare,
Spenser, and Sidney embalmed it; and Tasso, in Italy,
threw a halo round the First Crusade, and made all its
horrors to disappear under the magic of his genius.
Cervantes also came out, not to adorn, but to laugh at
the knight-errant: his admirable ‘ Don Quixote’ is
still read for its wit and humour, when the intention of
it, and the effect which it produced, are all but for-
gotten. In these later days, Scott (to apply to him
the language which he applied to Dryden),
¢ With his own immortal strain
Hath raised the Table Round again,”
But poetry, though it may adorn and elevate life, is not
history; and it may not be superfluous to close this
paper by reminding the reader that Shakspeare’s his-
torical plays are not combinations of precise facts, nor
Scott’s chivalric romances unexceptionable pictures of
manners.
In two or three papers we shall follow up this rapid
and imperfect sketch by an account of the principal
existing Orders of Knighthood in Europe.
* © British Costume,’ p. 185.—‘* Library of Entertaining Know:
ledge.’
*.* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at
99, Lincoln’s Inn Fields.
LONDON: CHARLES KNIGHT & CO., 22, LUDGATE STREET,
Printed by Wittt4m CLowe: and Sons, Stamford Street,
THE PENNY MAGAZINE
OF THE
Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge.
309. | PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. [January 28, 1837.
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[Fountain in the Place du Chiatelet. jj
Water is one of the most essential necessaries of life; | of a large or thriving community is impossible. None
and together with an ample or insufficient supply of | but hos whose poverty fixes them to a particular spot
food enables population to add to its numbers, or com- | will reside there; andif there should be the opportunity
presses them within certain bounds. If the supply be , of acquiring property from the exercise of some local
scanty, or the quality unwholesome, and the evil cannot be | industry, those individuals who are sufficiently fortunate
remedied by artificial means, it is plain that the existence | to do so, when they have become masters of their own
Vou. VI. i
26
movements, will be under the strongest temptation to
choose their residence elsewhere. Such a district will
never be selected by those who can fix their habitation
where they please; and it is therefore left to its poverty.
A town thus situated may obtain a supply of water by
means of aqueducts, canals, cisterns, reservoirs, hy-
draulic machines, &c.; and this triumph over the
defects of situation places the inhabitants in cicum-
stances favourable to their prosperity, and manufactures
and arts may flourish which could never have been
pursued but for an abundant supply of this necessary
element.
Paris, though now well supphed with water, in
former times often experienced the etlects of scarcity,
owing to the indifference of the authorities to the
public wants, the concessions made to individuals and
religious communities, and the defective nature of the
hydraulic power employed in drawing the supply from
its sources. Under the Roman domination, Paris ob-
tained a supply of water by an aqueduct about five
miles in length, which terminated at Arcueil. During
the period which preceded the re-establishment of order
and security, the Normans ravaged the country, and
this aqueduct was either destroyed or became dilapi-
dated. Henry IV. resolved upon re-establishing the
Roman aqueduct ; and in 1613 the first stone of the
work was laid by Louis XTIf. and his quecn. It was
found that, owing to a part of the aqueduct being car-
ricd over quarries of calcareous stone, the watcr perco-
lated through the strata, and the fonntains which it
supplied became nearly dry. In 1777, the necessary
repairs were completed at an enormous expense. The
other sources of supply are the Seine, the Oureq, and
the springs of St. Gervais, Belleville, and Menilmontant.
The aqueduct of Belleville was constructed in the reign
of Philip Augustus, and was repaired by Henry IV.
The aqueduct of St. Gervais, or Romainville, conveys
the waters of Romainville and the ncighbouring heights
into a reservoir, from whence it is conducted by leaden
pipes to Paris. Besides these aqueducts, there area
number of hydraulic machines, the principal ones being
those of the Pont Notre Dame, of Chaillot, and of
Gros Caillou.
Under the reign of Philip Augustus, Paris only con-
tained three fountains. Between his reign and that
of Louis XIV. thirteen others were constructed, and
during the reign of Louis XIV. the additions were
much more numerous. From 1804 to 1812, the most
palmy period of the Empire, the number of fountains |
erected was 17. The number of fountains is now
about 70; and there are above 130 dbornes fontaines, ov
orifices, in the public streets, from which the water
Issucs.
In 1608 an hydraulic machine, constructed by a
Fleming, was fixed near the Pont Neuf, and in 1671 a
similar’ machine was placed contiguous to the Pont
Notre Dame. ‘These machines were frequently out of
order, and the greatest inconvenience was occasioned
by the want of water. In 1769 the Chevalier d’Auxiron
made a proposal for erecting steam-engines in certain
positions which would obviate the defects of the old
machines; but no active steps were taken until 1778,
when a company, authorized by letters-patent, com-
menced its labours. The engine at Chaillot, which
they caused to be fixed, was the first of the kind worked
in France: this machine was put in motion in 1782.
In 1788 four-fifths of the Company’s shares had been
sold on the Stock Exchange for covernment securities ;
and the executive being in possession of nearly the
whole property, the engines and the establishment of
the proprietors passed into its hands. The supply ef
water has been vested in the government ever since.
A want of practical talent was cxhibited by the
TH PENNY MAGAZINE.
[JANUARY 28,
French more frequently in the period preceding the
Revolution than since that change. During the reign
of Louis XLV. splendid fountains were constructed,
but when coinpleted they benefited nobedy, as the
water for supplying them was not to be obtained, and
they stood as if in mockery of the wants of the people.
The same course was pursued in the succeeding reign,
The machines for raising water were inefficient, and
the scarcity was great. Privileged individuals and
religious establishments were abundantly supplied, but
the inhabitants gencrally could not obtain a sufficient
quantity. When complaints were made which could
not be silenced, the authorities attacked the privileces
which had been granted to individuals, or they ordered
new fountains to be erecied. The fine fountain of
Grenelle, finished in 1739, was the result of one of
these efforts to satisfy the public; but for some years it
gave no supply, and hence it was generally called
‘La Trompeuse.” It was not until the power of steam
was applied to ratse water that this fountain fulfilled
the purpose of its construction. Under Louis XVI.
the municipal authorities willingly undertook to erect
fountains, but no plan of supplying them was seriously
taken into consideration. Dulaure remarks, in his
‘Histoire de Paris,’ that “they wished to show they
had abundant resources, while at the same time they
were attacked on all sides on account of scarcity: they
were poor, and they wished to show themsclves mag-
nificent.”
In 1799 proposals were made for bringing the waters
of the Ourcq to Paris, but the plan was not considered
feasible. In 1802, however, the government eave direc-
tions for undertaking the work, the expense of which
was to be defrayed out of the receipts at the barriers on
different articles of consumption. Various circumstances
occasioned delays, and in 1814 a complete suspension
of the works took place, but they were completed under
the Restoration. The waters of the Ourceq are conveyed
by a canal, which is navigable, into a large basin within
the barriers, from whence the houses, manufactories,
and fountains, obtain an abundant supply. The canal
is about twenty-five miles in length, and by avoiding
the windings of the Seine greatly facilitates the con-
veyance of goods.
Few liouses are supplied with water by pipes whieh
convey it at once into the apartments. Hence a de-
scription of industry has sprung up which is unkuown
in London, where water is brought into each house by
pipes; in Paris it is sold by a distinct class of men,
who carry it from house to house and from family to
family. ‘The price is one sous for each pail. The
number of “ porteurs d’eau” having casks on wheels
exceeds 1400; and those who carry it with yokes, in the
manner that milk is carried in London, are still more
niunerous. It is calculated that about 180,000. a-year
is paid to the water-carriers. Besides the water ob-
tained from the fountains there is a company, or com-
panies, for supplying filtered water. he water-carriers
are an industrious class of men, of simple habits, and
very economical, for which they have an object sufficient
to deter them from dissipation or ill-judged expenses.
They indulge the hope of some day being enabled to
possess a slip of land in their native departinent. The
wife often assists in the labour of drawing the casks,
which are placed on wheels, and is not less an advocate
of every plan which can ensure the coinpletion of their
hopes.
Tui Madrid there is a similar class of people who are
the exclusive water-carricrs of that capital. They are
Gallegos and Asturians, and are several thousand in
number. Their object is to save a little fortune, and
when this purpose is accomplished, they dispose of the
good-will of the “ walk”:in which they were accus-
1837.]
tomed to ply their vocation, and retire to their native
district. In Madrid water is sold also by the glassfull
in the streets. It is bronght from a distance of thirty
niles, and its quality is remarkably fine.
jar in which it is carried about the streets is suspended
by a leathern sling, and in the mouth of the jar is a
cork with two reeds, one for the admission of air, and
the other for the water to pass out. <A glass is carried
in a basket on the left arm, and is filled with great
dexterity. The dealers keep up an incessant cry in the
The earthen
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
27
larly and so fortunately. If a hunter is imprudent
enough to step from behind his tree at the inoment when
the bear is advancing through the thicket, orif he makes
any noise after the shot, or even calls ont, the animal
immediately raises himself upon his hind legs, and runs
with great swiftness directly towards him. Ifthe hunter
is not cool enough to wait for the bear till he has ad-
vanced within five paces of him, so that he can make
certain of, lodging a ball exactly between his eyes; if
he fires too soon, or if he misses the bear, it is all over
street in badly-prononnced Spanish, the burden of | with him if his neighbour does not come promptly to
which is—** Water! fresh water! fresh from the foun-
tain! Who drinks, gentlemen ! who drinks?”
The engraving represents a number of Parisian
water-carriers around the fountain in the Place du
Chatelet, where formerly stood a feudal court of justice
and a prison. ‘The fountain is called ‘ La Fontaine du
Palmier,’ or ‘ La Colonne du Chatelet,’ and was erected
in 1808. The statues represent Justice, Strength,
Prudence, and Vigilance, and their joined hands en-
circle the column. The names of the principal of Na-
poleon’s victories are inscribed on the column. The
heads above the capital represent the Winds, and in
the centre is a globe, on which stands a gilt statue of
Victory.
BEAR-HUNTING IN LITHUANTA.
Witz the Finlander, who yet lives in almost a state
of nature, hunts the bear by seeking him in his den,
forcing him out from thence, and formally challenging
him to a duel, in which he pierces him to the heart
with a long spear, the more civilized Lithuanian pur-
sues the chase in a widely dissimilar manner, with euns
and dogs. As with the stag, the chase is separated into
three different methods, ‘The first is called den anstand,
the lying in wait, or ambush; the second, den pirsch-
gang or den birschgang *, rifle-shootinge ; and the third,
das treibjagen, or the driving. ‘The bear, when hunted,
differs from all other wild animals, even from the wolf,
——a
in not appearing to fear the hunters, but rather seeking’
to attack them. In this mainly consists the difference
between the bear and other hunting in every country.
We will first describe the driving hunt.
A woody district, in which, through the examination
of the @uides, it is certainly known that a bear is har-
boured, or in which, from its nature, it is probable that
one will be found, is, upon the windward side, guarded
by a number of men armed with euns, who very care-
fully endeavour to conceal themselves behind trees or
bushes, so that the bear may not see or be able to
attack them. On the other sides some courageous
hunters, well armed with guns and hunting-knives,
enter the wood and commence making a loud noise
with rattles, which alarms or disturbs the bear, so that
he rouses himself and runs away. By this means he is
driven before the line of the shooting party; and it is
seldom that he escapes the well-practised marksinen,
whio, as he commonly advances slowly, are able conve-
niently to have a good shot at him. If the bear is only
wounded, they let slip two, or at most three, of the little
bear-dogs (asmall sort of hound), which attack the bear
without having the courage to bite him. The bear,
who is not at all afraid of them, now elevates himself
apon his hind legs, endeavouring to guard himself
against these troublesome visiters; and while his whole
attention is directed towards the dogs, the hunter has
time to creep towards the bear within about twenty
paces, and to send a ball through his head. It is not,
however, always the case that a hunt proceeds so regu-
* This is more precisely rendered by the English “ shooting.”
sportsman goes out with his dogs and gun, but the gun is a
rifle. )
his assistance, for the hear immediately strikes him to
the ground with a single blow, and then proceeds to
bite him to death; and it is well known that a single
eripe is frequently sufficient.
In the ambush, in which the hunter conceals himself,
and awaits the hear in his known haunts; and in the
rifle-shooting, in which he seeks him in the forest, it is
necessary not only to he well armed, but to be always
provided with two of ihe small bear-hounds. In the
rifle-shooting the dogs are suffered to range freely to
discover the game. As soonas they have found a bear,
they place themselves before him, and begin to bark
furiously. ‘The huntsman advances towards the noise,
cautiously and silently approaches to within about
twenty paces of the bear, and shoots him through the
head. It is a prudent precaution in this chase to have
also a third hound in a leash, in order that, if a second
bear should attack the hunter while the other dogs are
far away upon the track of the first, or have already found
it, he may let this loose, and he is thus protected from
the attack; for the bear, through fear of being bitten
on the legs, will always face the dogs. The following
incident will prove how dangerous it is to attempt this
chase without the assistance of dog's: —A very courageous
young bear-hunter, who had already killed several bears
without his dogs, proceeded one day to the chase, leav-
ine both his dogs at home, and depending only upon his
rifle and his good fortune. ‘This time the latter proved
unfaithful to him. <A bear, which he had either met so
suddenly that he had not been able to shoot him, or which
he had missed, gave him unexpectedly a most fearful
box on the ear that nade him think his last hour had
without any doubt arrived. In vain the unfortunate
man threw himself upon his back, and feigned to be
dead; the bear had no intention of giving up his office
of revenger of his slaughtered comrades, and the con-
queror of many bears ow expected nothing less than
the powerful bite of his throat, which would separate
the tie betwixt “ to he” and “‘ not to be.” Suddenly
the bear turned himself round, stood up with his hind
lees on his prey, and with his forepaws defended hiin-
self against a new, unconquered, and, from their ¢reat
agility, unconquerable enemy.
‘he two dogs of the young man had taken an oppor-
tunity of escaping out of the house, had found and
followed their master’s track, and had arrived at this
very critical moment, in time to wive the bear another
and less welcome employment than he had contem-
plated. Nevertheless the young man’s danger was not
yet over, for the bear had placed himself directly upon
his body, and he was therefore unable to rise or to crawl
away. He succeeded, however, at length, in drawing
his short hunting-knife (which is of the size ofa dagger),
and plunged it into the side of the bear, giving him a
wound under which the creature at length sunk down.
Although it may appear extremely improbable that
the bear should not have sprung away cn receiving this
last wound, yet the truth of this circumstance can be
vouched for. Upon the subject of the capture of bears
by means of snares, traps, &c., we will not at present
eter,
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view of the Falls of
A GENERAL description of Tivoli, the Tibur of the an-
cients, will be fonnd in the first volume of this Maga-
zine, in the 34th Number; and a view is given of the
Temple of the Sibyl, which is the chief architectural
embellishment of this celebrated place. We now pre-
sent a view of its great natural attraction—the Falls of
the Anio, as seen from the Grotto of Neptune. ‘The
fall and windings of this river still constitute, as thev
did in ancient times, the pride and ornament of Tivoli.
Enstace has described them in his ‘ Classical Tour,’
The modern name of the Anio is the Teverone. ‘This
river,” he says, ‘having’ meandered from its source
throngh the vales of Sabina, elides gently throneh
Tivoli, till coming to the brink of a rock it precipitates
itself in one mass down the steep, and then, boiling for
an instant in its narrow channel, rushes headlong
through a chasm in the rock into the caverns below,
The tirst fall may be seen from the window of the inn
or from the temple; but it appears to the greatest
advantage from the bridge thrown over the narrow
channel a little below it. From this bridge also you
may look down into the shattered well, and observe,
far beneath, the writhings and agitation of the stream,
struggling through its rocky prison. To view the
second fall, or descent into the cavern, we went down
through a garden, by a winding path, into the narrow
dell, through which the river flows after the cascade;
and placing ourselves in front of the cavern, beheld the
Anio, in two immense sheets, tumbling through two
different apertures, shaking the mountain-in its fall,
and filline all the cavities around with spray and
uproar, Though the rock rises to the height of two
hundred feet, in a narrow semicircular form, clothed on |
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the Anio at Tivoli. |
one side with shrubs and foliage, yet a sufficient light
breaks upon the cavern to show its pendent rocks,
agitated waters, and craggy borders. About a hundred
paces from the grotto, a uatnral bridge, formed by the
water working through the rock, enables the spectator
to pass the river, and to take another view of the cas-
cade, less distinct with regard to the cavern, but more
enlarged, as it includes a greater portion of the super-
incumbent rock in front, with the shaeged banks on
both sides. The rock immediately above and on the
left is perpendicular, and crowned with houses, while
from an aperture at its side at a considerable height
oushes a rill, too small to add either by its sound or
size to the magnificence of the scenery. The bank on
the opposite side is steep and shaggy, but leaves rooin
for little gardens and vineyards. On its summit stands
the celebrated temple commonly called of the Sibyl,
though by many antiquaries supposed to belong to
Vesta.” ‘The path which leads to the Grotto.of Nep-
tune is hiehly picturesque.
The scenery of Tivoli is grand and striking, and the
vicinity is rich in classical associations. Its distance
from Rome is abont twenty miles, and few visiters
leave that city without making an excursion to a place
possessed of so many ciaims to interest.
THE AUTOMATON CHESS PLAYER.
(Chiefly abridged from Le Palaméde, a French Chess Journal.)
PERHAPS no piece Of mechanism has ever afforded so
much entertainment or caused so much discussion, as
Baron Kempelen’s automaton chess-player. It first
appeared at Presburg, in 1770; and the best players
oe”
1837.]
of the town were worsted,-as it seemed, by a machine.
The automaton, adorned with a splendid turban, and
dressed in the rich costume of an Asiatic sultan, sat
before a chess-board placed upon a sort of cupboard,
three feet high, two feet broad, and four feet long, and
moving on castors. The cylinder, levers, and springs
necessary for the machine were in the cupboard; and
before it was pnt in motion the inventor took care to
open the doors of the cupboard alternately, and to point,
out that the quantity of clock-work with which it was
filled made it impossible to introduce any person into it.
As soon as an antagonist presented himself, the ex-
hibitor took up his long iron key, and wound up the
machinery with studied gravity, during which the click-
ing of the wheels was distinctly heard.
The eyes of the automaton were now directed to the
board, and, after due meditation, he lifted up his arm,
placed it over the piece that he intended to move,
grasped it between his fingers, and then put it on the
square where it was to remain. If a false move was
made, he shook his head discontentedly, and replaced
the piece. When the automaton gave check, his lips
moved and uttered a hoarse sound resembling shay,
which served as a notice to his adversary. |
Thus nothing which could favour the illusion had
been neglected ; and though on reflection it appeared
certain that the hand of the automaton was guided, the
method of the communication remained ainystery. All
eyes were turned to Keinpelen,. and endeavoured to
draw from his physiognomy or gestures some hint of
the means that he employed—but in vain. Sometimes
he turned his back to the table, and sometimes went
several steps from it, allowing three or four moves to
be played before he returned: the table too might be
moved at the will of the spectator, thus rendering all
communication with the floor or the next room im-
possible. The examination which had been allowed of
the interior showed that a child or a dwarf could not be
concealed in it; besides, supposing that one had been
there, how could he, at the bottom of a cupboard,
almost hermetically sealed, see a game played on a
board placed on the table above ?
The mystery was long impenetrable. The automaton
visited the capitals of Germany, England, aud France ;
he was received everywhere with great curiosity, and
Ofte excited the most lively transports of surprise and
admiration. He arrived at Paris in 1783, where his
star shone less brightly before the celebrated players
of the Café de la Regence. But an automaton might,
without blushing, confess himself beaten by a Philidor
or a Legalle, and yet have a brilliant career before him.
On returning to Berlin, he threw down the gauntlet to
all the courtiers of Frederick the Great, aud was even
allowed the honour of measuring: his strength with the
king himself, a great lover of the game. In a moment
of enthusiasm Frederick paid a large sum for the
machine and the secret. ‘The charming mystery was
no more: the automaton, taken to pieces, despised, and
covered with dust, was banished to a lumber-room in
the palace, where he remained for nearly thirty years,
buried and forgotten.
When Napoleon was at Berlin, the automaton was
rescued from his tomb, re-assumed his-former spendour,
and, proud of having triumphed over the conqueror of
Austerlitz, continued his travels.
After some years he arrived at the Bavarian court,
where the ecstasy which his play never failed to excite
was again renewed. Indeed the impression made was
so strong, that Prince Eugene could not resist the
temptation of becoming the possessor of this master-
piece, and learning the secret which was at the bottom
of so many prodigies; his desire was satisfied, and
the price of his initiation was fixed at 30,000 frances
(1200/.)
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
seemed very ill at ease.
29
The moment had arrived when the veil was to be
removed, and he was to become acquainted with the
invisible genius,—the superior being that hovered over
the chess-board. All profane eyes had been banished,
and the Prince was alone with the exhibitor. ‘The
latter, by way of explanation, opened both the doors of
the machine at once ;—the clock-work had disappeared,
and a real flesh-and-blood chess-player was in its place.
He .was sitting on a low bench, upon castors, and
We may suppose how the new
purchaser was disenchanted on seeing this ;—the solu-
tion of the problem depended merely on a juggling
trick.~ The cylinder, levers, and clock-work, were very
slightly made, and could, be removed at pleasure.
While the spectator was indulged with a view of the
machinery, the doors being opened, not at once, but
only in succession; the player concealed himself in the
parts not exposed to view. One or two rehearsals
served to teach a player this exercise, as well as. the
method of turning the handle that moves the automa-
ton’s arm, of touching the elastic spring that moves
its fingers, and of pulling the cord belonging to the
bellows that said shay.: Hence it would appear that
this part of the secret was pretty well guessed or known
by the author of a pamphlet, entitled ‘An Attempt
to analyse the Automaton Chess-Player of M. De
Kempelen.’ London, 1821. 8vo.. After describing the
manner in which the player may take refuge in one
part of the machine while another is exposed to the
spectator, he says, ** When the doors in front have been
closed, the exhibitor may occupy as much time as he
finds necessary in apparently adjusting the machinery
at the back, whilst the player is taking the position
described in figs. 7 and 8. In this position he will
find no difficulty in executing every movement required
of the automaton: his head being above the table, he
will see the chess-board through the waistcoat as easily
as through a veil.” |
But the ingenious author of this pamphlet, though
right in his supposition that the game is played by a
person concealed in the machine, is wrong in imagining’
that he sees the moves of ltis antagonist. ‘The method
by which the player becomes acquainted with the moves
made upon the board shows a singular felicity of me-
chanical contrivance ; but we purposely abstain from
detailing it, that the present exhibitor may not lose all
the advantages of mystery.
Prince Kugene now found that keeping the anto-
maton was useless, unless he also kept the player; and
he therefore allowed tlie proprietor, M. M————, to
carry off the wonder-workinge ‘Turk, on condition of
paying interest for the sum which had been given for
the secret.
A pleasant story is told of a panic that once seized
the automaton. He had arrived at some town in Ger-
many, where a celebrated conjuror was exhibiting his
tricks. ‘The automaton soon eclipsed the juggler; the
latter, piqued at his ‘success, went to see him, guessed
the secret, and, seconded by an accomplice, began to
roar Out most lustily *‘ Fire! Fire!” The spectators
ran here, there, and everywhere; the antomaton in his
fricht upset his antagonist, rolled about in the strangest
way, and seemed to have gone mad. I*ortunately,
M. M———— had preserved his presence of mind, and
pushed him behind a curtain, where his fears were soon
calmed. ‘Thus the jugeler was defeated, and the glory
of his rival remained untarnished. ‘The automaton has
passed several years in North America, and has visited
the principal towns both of the Unilfed States and of
Canada. He is now exercising his taleuts in South
America.
ome ~ es
50
SUPPLY OF LARGE CAPITALS WITH FOOD.
(Concluded from No. 308.}
Tur general violation of the principles of production
had so completely disorganised the economy of society,
that the proposition of the state taking possession of all
raw materials, and manufacturine on its own account,
began seriously to be entertained. ‘The rninous con-
sequences of such a course were overlooked amidst
the necessities of the moment. At every step in this
career the public difficulties increased, and the erro-
neous principles which had given rise to them were
still more earnestly clung to’ as a means of obtain-
ing supplies. The Commune of Paris required each
dealer in the necessaries of life to make a_ state-
ment of the stock which he held, the orders which he
had given for a fresh supply, and the expectation he
entertained of its being received.- All dealers who had
been in business one year, if they gave up business,
were placed on the list of disaffected persons, and as
such were imprisoned. To prevent individuals accu-
mulatine a stock of provisions for their private con-
sumption, the Commune issued orders that the con-
sumer could only be supplied by the retail dealer, and
the latter only by the wholesale dealer, and it fixed the
quantity which each should be allowed to obtain. Thus
the shopkeeper could not obtain more than 25lbs. of
sugar at one time of a wholesale dealer. The cards
anthorizing the delivery of these scanty supplies were
delivered by the revolutionary committees. The Com-
mune did not stop here, but as the crowds which
surrounded the bakers’ shops frequently occasioned
tumults, aud many persons passed a part of the night
in order to obtain an early supply, directions were given
that the last comers should be served the first; but
this neither diminished the anxiety of the people nor
the causes of disturbance. On complaints being made
that the worst description of bread was reserved for the
poor, it was ordered that there should only be one sort
of bread made in Paris, which should consist of three
parts wheat and one part barley.
some delay had taken place in applying the maximum
to goods before they left the manufactory, but it was
at length determined that they should be subjected to
it; and tables were prepared of the prices at the place
of production three years before, and a scale of future
prices was arbitrarily fixed, and even the rate of profit
of the wholesale and retail dealer. ‘The cost of car-
riage was also settled; so that the exact price at which
the goods were to be sold was established before they
reached the retail dealers. The raw materials were not
yet comprised in the tariff, but at least one-half of the
labours of the community were brought within the
most ebsolute and vexatious rules. Commerce, however,
endeavoured to emancipate itself from them in spite of
the penalties by which it was surrounded; and mer-
chandise and produce were frequently concealed and
secretly sold, or, what was worse, they ceased to be an
object of production.
In 1794, owing to the war in La Vendée, from whence
Paris drew its supplies of cattle, there was a real scarcity
of meat. ‘The butchers could only procure a supply at
an exorbitant price, and, obliged to sell at the esta-
blished prices, they endeavoured to evade the law. 'The
best meat.was reserved for those who could afford to
pay a good price, and a number of clandestine markets
were established in the neighbourhood of Paris. The
buyers who presented themselves in the shops, and
offered the rewulation prices, either could not obtain a
supply, or meat of the worst deseription was offered to
them. Vegetables, fruit, egos, butter, and other articles
were no longer brought to market. The price of a
cabbage was LOd. The market carts were met on the
road, and the produce was bought up at any price.
Paris, in, the méan time, was in a state of famine.
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
| JANUARY 28,
Great numbers of persons obtained a living by fore-
stalling the markets, and selling provisions above the
maximum to families in easy circumstances. The
Commune interfered with its regulations, and directed
that those who forestalled the markets should be sub-
jected to the heaviest punishments, and that the supplies
should be equally distributed in the different places of
public sale. Persons waited around the butchers’ shops
in the same manner as at the bakers’. ‘These mul
tiplied reeulations did not do away with the evils com-
plained of; and at length it was suggested that the
public gardens should be planted with potatoes and
other veeetables. This idea was eagerly adopted, and
the Commune, which refused the people nothing, ac-
ceded to the plan. The authorities had eranted every-
thing which was demanded, but as the evil did not
decrease, the most violent and ignorant began to
attribute the public calamities to the moderation of one
of the parties in the National Conyention ; and the
clamour did not cease till these men were !ed to exe-
cution.
The harvest of 1794 was abundant, and orders were
given that it should be threshed ont immediately. To
prevent wages rising to an extraordinary height, harvest
labourers were pnt in forced requisition, and their wages
were settled by the local authorities. The supply of
meat was still insufficient, and the daly consumption
of Paris was fixed at 75 oxen, 150 ewt. of veal and
mutton, and 200 pigs. These could only be slaughtered
at one particular place, and the butchers appointed by
each section of the capital came there for their sup-
ples. The inhabitants were served in rations like an-
army in the field. Isvery five days each family was
entitled to receive half a pound ef meat for each indi-
vidual. This supply could only be obtained on the
presentation of a card delivered by the proper autho-
rities. As wood and charcoal did not arrive, owing to
the operation of the maximum, the supply to each family
was limited in like manner. During this period the
country butchers carried on a lucrative trade. Profiting
by the negligence of the rural parishes, they bought
cattle in the pastures, and sold it above the maximum
in a clandestine manner. ‘The knowledge of this fact,
however, soon occasioned the eraziers to be subjected
to a rigorous system of inspection.
In 1795 the harvest was bad, and was followed by a
severe winter. The reion of terror was over, but it was
not so easy to restore life to commerce. The extraor-
dinary system of provisioning Paris not being sus-
tained by men’s fears, the supplies were more deficient
than ever. The relaxation of the maximuin was re-
solved upon, but this not being immediately followed
by the awakening: of individual industry and confidence,
there was every prospect of a complete dearth. Prices
were excessive, and the Government, in order to bring
them down, placed stores of its own at the pork-
butchers, the erocers, and shopkeepers, to be sold at a
cheaper rate. But this plan only led to frauds which
defeated the intentions of the authorities. This des-
perate state of things added to the exasperation of po-
litical parties. ‘* Behold,’ said one, ‘* the effect of the
abolition of the maximum ;” ‘* Look,” said the other,
‘at the inevitable effect of your revolutionary measures.”
“ Repair the injustices which have been committed,”
repeated some; ‘‘ Restore the energy of the Revolution,”
said others. On the 16th of March the inhabitants
were put upon rations. A pound of bread per day was
given to each individual; and a pound and a half was
eiven to working men, who were also served the first.
On the 26th of March the quantity of flonr necessary
for the supply of the day not having arrived, only one-
half of the usual rations was distributed, and the re-
mainder was promised for the end of the day. On the
Ist of April a mob, which consisted of women and chil-
1837.]
dren in the first instance, created a tumult on account
of this mode of obtaining’ the means of existence, which
led to an outrageous violation of the freedom of the
legislature,
In 1796 the Directory suppressed the distribution of
provisions by rations, but the change was not effected
without difficulty, and for a considerable time the Go-
vernment was under the necessity of buying grain at
its full value, and re-selline it to the inhabitants at a
nominal valuc. The receipts scarcely equalled 1-200th
part of the cost of this mode of supply, and the popn-
lation of Paris was thus pretty nearly supported at the
expense of the remainder of the country. ations were
for some time longer distributed to the indigent, to thé
creditors of the State, and to public officers whose in-
comes did uot exceed 1000 crowns. The final sup-
pression of rations to the inhabitants generally excited
violent commotions.
Tt will be perceived from the foreroing circumstances,
that the consequences of throwing the hopes and feel-
ings of the industrious part of the community out of
their ordinary sphere. were of the most mischievous
character; and that the task of supplying the popula-
tion with food by forcing the action of commerce, and
arbitrarily interfering with private concerns, was found
to be attended with perils both to individuals and to
society. Let the system then pursued be contrasted
with the silent operation of individual interest directed
to the same end with such advantageous results to all
classes. A more alarming state of things cannot be
conceived than an immense population reduced to such
a dilemma as the one which has been described; and
the folly and inutility of coercive measures is rendered
more glaring by the fact, that, generally speaking, there
existed no alarming deficiency in the quantity of food.
The want of confidence in the security and stability of
things alone rendered its distribution uncertain and
nearly impossible.
~
STUDY OF PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY AND
TOPOGRAPHY.
Tire method of teaching geography, which has hitherto
been too commonly adopted, produced little other effect
than that of fixing in the mind the mere names of thing's.
The young learner was able to recollect the capital and
two or three of the great cities and rivers of a-country ;
bnt of its configuration, the character of the rivers, the
quality of the soil, and the natural productions which it
furnished, he remained in comparative ignorance. The
real elements of the science are full of interest, forming
an index to some of the leading circumstances which
have developed the character of man, while the vocabu-
lary which has been substituted for it is dry and unin-
structive. Someof the ancient aristocracies and priest-
hocds hated the sea, because civilization, which is de-
structive of error, was fatal to their authority, and they
knew tlrat there, where the means of communication, of
intercourse and trafhe existed, were to be found the
ewerms of improvement; and that the ocean, which con-
veyed men upon its bosom to scenes removed from
those im which they had been brought up, led to en-
large and enlightened views, and prepared the way
for a greater measure of trnth. The coast-line of
Greece and Italy was favourable to the intercourse of
early navigation, and in those countries the human mind
received a developement unknown at the time to more
inland people. ‘To the same element Eneland is to
a large extent indebted for her greatness. The long
valley of Egypt, which is penetrated by a fertilizing
river, witnessed the earliest efforts of human advance-
ment, while the country beyond it, intersected by
scarcely a river which affords the means of commercial
THE PENNY MAGAZINE. |
ol
intercourse, has remained stationary for many centuries.
These instances will show that something more fertile
in results is to be obtained from the study of geography,
than that which a mere nomenclature of cities, rivers,
and mountais can convey.
It is not less interesting to observe the effects of
geological structure in producing dissimilar conditions
in the population, which render their habits and occu-
pations closely connected with geological causes. “ If
a stranger, landing at the extremity of Eneland, were
to traverse the whole of Cornwall, and the north of
Devonshire, and crossing to St. David's, should make
the tour of all North Wales, and passing thence through
Cumberland by the Isle of Man, to the south-western
shore of Scotland, should proceed either through the
hilly region of the border counties, or along the Grain-
plans to the German Ocean, he would conclude from
such a journey of many hundred miles, that Britain
was a thinly-peopled, steril region, whose principal
inhabitants were miners and mountainecrs. Another
foreigner arriving on the coast of Devon, and crossing
the midland counties from the mouth of the Exe to
that of the Tyne, would find a continued succession of
fertile hills and valleys, thickly overspread with towns
and cities, aud in many parts crowded with a manu-
facturing population, whose industry is maintained
by the coal with which the strata of these districts
are abundantly interspersed. A third foreigner might
travel from the coast of Dorset to the coast of York-
shire, over elevated plains of oolite limestone, or of
chalk, without a single mountain or mine or coal-pit,
or any important manufactory, and occupied by a
population almost exclusively agricultural*.”
The elements of physical geography are not actually
beneath the eye of the inquirer; but physical topo-
graphy, which presents some of the features of the
same science within the more limited circle of a district
or town, instead of a continent, or a Whole conntry,
offers the means of direct personal investigation. Let
any one survey the town or district in which he resides,
and proceed to analyze the causes to which it owes
its origin, or its present appearance, and the process
will be found full of interest and instruction; while it
scarcely demands the aid of books, and may form the
amusement of a solitary walk. If the town be an
ancient one, it may have constituted a place of security
from the marauders of rude times, and as men resorted
to it that they might prosecute their callings in peace,
it has probably once been more populons than a
present; but the benefits of protection being sprea‘
over the whole country, the advantages which it held
out were less appreciated, the place has gone to decay,
and the population has transferred itself to more thriving
scenes. ‘This may be taken as an example of the effects
of political change. When wood was cheaper than
coal, and the art of smelting iron by coal was un-
known, there were smelting furnaces in Sussex; but
the destruction of the forests, and the manner in which
coal can now be applied to the conversion of tron, has
changed the place of production from Sussex to the
districts which possess coal mines. in some parts oi
the coast the sea has eained upon the land, and ancient
ports have been destroyed ; and in other cases the land
has gained upon the sea, and the port has been left dry.
These changes, from the relation which they have to
man and to his labours, render the scene by which they
have been marked far from uninteresting. It 1s not
useless to trace the circumstances which have created
the seats of a particular industry. ‘The hardware trade
has fixed itself at Sheffield and Birmingham, because
they are each placed in a district containing both iron
and coal; and when the chief moving power was the
* Buckland’s * Bridgewater Treatise.’
32
water-wheel, the former place, owing to the streams by
which it is surrounded, was peculiarly adapted for the
manufacture of edge-tools, and other articles which
require to be sharpened and polished by the grinding-
wheel. If the four great ports of Bristol, Liverpool,
Hull, and London be ‘taken, it is obvious that, from the
situation of the two former, they are the emporiums
which arc best adapted for ‘the commerce of America,
the West Indies, and Ireland; and that Liverpool has
outstripped its more ancient rival owing to the dis-
tricts of Lancashire and the West Riding ‘of Yorkshire,
to which it is adjacent, having become flourishing
seats of manufactures, containing one-seventh of ihe
population of England, while the population which
surrounds Bristol has not advanced in the same extra-
ordinary ratio, and, with the exception of Gloucester-
shire, the number of agriculturists excecds that of any.
other class. Hull, on the eastern coast, opposite
the northern parts of Europe, is evidently the most
fitting station for the commerce of the Baltic and the
North Seas: and London, which from its position
nearer the base of the island is convemiently situated
for carrying on its commerce with any part of the
world, is accordingly the general emporium of mer-
chandise and produce from every quarter of the globe.
These statements may perhaps be considered as trite
and obvious; but they show the manner in which an
observant but comparatively uninstructed person may
always have at hand some materials for reflection cal-
culated to exercise and improve the mind. Proceeding
from the simple to the more complicated matcrials which
this study affords, there will arise subjects for considera-
tion calculated to task severer thought and to illustrate
points which throw light upon the most difficult ques-
tions. ‘In a little work just published, entitled, ‘ Popu-
lar Politics,’ there is a short chapter headed High Rents
for Poor Land, ‘which we extract for the purpose of
shewing more clearly the interesting conclusions to
which a habit of examining into the common thines
which surround us may lead. . The following extract,
with a slight omission, comprises the whole of the
chapter alluded to :—
‘* All the Jand for some miles south, east, and west of
Dunkirk (Downechurch), in France, consists naturally
of downs of loose sand, blown up from a gaining sea-
shore on to a deep subsoil of sand, without water, and
as steril as the most naked rock. Yet in this district
the rent of land is considerably higher than in the very
fertile district which, on the opposite coast of England,
divides the Isle of 'Thanct from the rest of Kent.
Why? * * * This is the way in which the people
about Dunkirk account for the high rents yielded by
their naturally steril land. —Time was when the dis-
trict was uninhabited, and then, of course, no rent was
paid. - But a church having been built on the barren
downs, and its patron saint, Eloi, being in great repute,
pilgrims flocked thither from all parts of France and
the Low Countries. By this means a town was esta-
blished. In time the inhabitants of the town con-
structed a port ;—roads were next made from the port
across the downs to the populous high lands, which had
once formed the sea-shore ;—and afterwards canals in
various directions, the flatness and softness of the
saudy district offering great facilities for canal-cutting.
In the end, the means of communication became more
abundant in this district than in any other part of
France, as they are still; and the result was, that the
population of the district became very great, towns and
villages being built at a short distance from each other ;
—that, by means of canals, clay and other manures,
were easily obtained, and being applied to the sand ren-
dered it more productive than the ancient high lands of
chalk; while those canals, again, afforded great facili-
THE PENNY MAGAZINE,
[JANUARY 28, 1837.
ties for taking produce to market. In this way, the
cost of production becoming less and less by means of
art, the naturally steril downs about Dunkirk, which
have never been used except for producing food, be-
came more valuable, subject to a higher degree of com-
petition, than the rich marsh-lands between Sandwich
and Recnlver, on which the popnlation is scanty, and
of which every acre, in comparison with any market
in the French low countries, is distant from market.”
It may be possible, where the interests of the many
are subordinate to those of one man, that cities and
towns may be founded on sites almost destitute of the
essential materials which supply the wants and con-
tribute to the prosperity of the majority of the people.
A town like Versailles may arise at the caprice of a
monarch, but it may as suddenly decline from the same
cause. At the Revolution, Versailles numbered a popu-
lation of 100,000 souls, but it “does not now contain
30,000. Madrid is a singular instance of the disregard
which has been paid to natural advantages. The sur-
rounding country scarcely supplies any of the necessaries
of life; and the insienificant river or stream on which
it has been built, not being navigable, supplies of food
are. brought from remote parts of the kingdom on the
backs of mules. It is shut out by a barrier of moun-
tains on the north and west, which precludes the pos-
sibility of its becoming a seat of extensive commercial
interest. The soil of Genoa is equally ill adapted for
furnishing supplies of the necessarics of life; but its
superior ‘situation as a sea- port lias enabled. the Ge-
noese, aided by a wise commercial system, to overcome
the disadvantages to which they would have been con-
demned had they not turned their attention to other
resources than that of agriculture.
The surveyor-general for the colony of South Aus-
tralia, before leaving England, received instructions to
select as sites for towns those which comprised in the
highest degrec the following natural advantages :—
1. Acommodious harbour, safe and accessible at all
seasons of the year. 2. A considerable tract of fertile
land immediately adjoming. 3. An abundant supply
of fresh water. 4. Facilities for internal communica-
tion.: -5, Facilities for communication with other ports.
6.-A supply of building materials, as timber, stone or
brick, earth, and lime. 7%. Facilities for drainage.
8. Coal. With a view to the successful completion of
his important services, the surveyor-general was di-
rected to make himself acqnainted ‘‘ with the circum-
stances which have determined the sites of new towns
in the United States of America, in Canada, &c., and
more especially in the Australian colonies; and to those
causcs which, in the latter colonics, have Ied to an ac-
tnal change, or to the desire for change, in the sites of
certain towns after their establishment.” The streets
of these new towns will be of ample width, and ar-
ranged with reference to the convenience of the inha-
bitants and the beauty and salubrity of the town; and
reserves of land are to be made for sqnares, public
walks, and quays, ‘These arrangements comprise all
the wreat means Calculated to render a town the seat of
a thriving community. . They are framed for the pur-
pose of securing the convenience and comfort of ali the
luliabitants, and not, as in many European towns, of
a few individuals.
The subject of this notice has not bcen treated so
much with regard to regularity as with a view to excite
some interest, and to direct attention to a study, the
book of which is spread open before every individual.
——=
*,” The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at
59, Lincoln’s Inn Fields,
LONDON: CHARLES KNIGHT & CO., 22, LUDGATE STREET.
Printed by WiuLIAM Cuowzs and Sons, Stamford Street,
. Monthly Supplenent of ee @
PE
OF THE
society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge.
310.)
December 31, 1336, to January 31, 1837,'
A LOOKING-GLASS FOR LONDON.
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[The Mansion House. ]
THERE have been many descriptions of London, a capi-
tal whose past history is as large a subject as its exist-
ing state. The laborious antiquary has delved amongst
its registers and tombstones; the light essayist has hur-
ried over its forms “ of many-coloured life.” We have,
perhaps, no very satisfactory works upon this vast me-
tropolis in any department, and the reason for this may
be sought for in the almost limitless variety of aspects
which London presents. London.is a world in itself,
and its records enibrace a world’s history. It has been
the chief seat of English power and knowledge and
wealth for nearly a thousand years; it is now the great
centre of the civilization of all mankind. It contains
2,000,000 of inhabitants; the number of strangers who
resort to it daily is equal to the population of many
capital cities; the people who are tributary to this me-
tropolis, as the heart of the British empire, amount to a
sixth of the whole human race; there is scarcely a com-
mercial transaction upon the face of the globe which is
not more or less connected with, or represented by;
London; the knowledge of its daily transactions goes
forth to the uttermost ends of the earth. It contains
within itself all that is gorgeous in wealth, and all that
Vou, VI.
is squalid in poverty; all that is illustrious in know-
ledge, and all that is debased in ignorance; all that is
beautiful in virtue, and all that is revolting in crime.
Adeguately to chronicle and to describe such a city as
London, a man should have sounded every depth and
shallow of the accumnlated facts of the past, and what
is more, have plunged into the deepest recesses of the
present, and have seen the most complicated movements
of living London with his own eyes. This is a task
beyond any individual powers. Let any man try to
visit al] the 12,000 streets of London, and he will find
his labour not a Jight one. Let him apply himself to
a more rational object, that of analyzing the moral and
physical condition of the inhabitants of one of these
streets, and he will find his inquiry travelling into de-
tails which are overwnelming from their magnitude and
complexity. Let him even take the case of a single
family, and undertake to describe all the circumstances
upon which they are dependent for the conduct of their
lives—their food, their clothing, their supply of water
and fuel, their means of communication, their employ-
ment, their education, their health, their knowledge of
passing events, their social protection, and their obli-
4
NY MAGAZINE
34
gations to perform certain public duties,—and he will
find that such a fraction of London as one family fur-
nishes a subject large enough for the keenest observer
to occupy a life in examining.
We are not about to add one more to the many lite-
rary failures that have had London for their theme, by
attempting too much. We propose, in a series of
papers, to show only the ovrwarp Lire of London,—
the scenes that constantly present themselves in our
streets, and to which a lodking-glass may literally, as
well as metaphorically, be applied. The greater
number of onr readers have, no doubt, been amused in
some public place by that ingenious optical exhibition,
the camera obscura.
found in various localities of the metropolis, having
very well-defined characteristics in their street scenes,
and if the exhibitors were to have collected some of the
leading facts connected with these characteristic scenes,
the object would be accomplished that we propose to
ourselves in this series of wood-cuts and their illustra-
tive descriptions. A very able artist has for some time
been engaged by us to make a number of original draw-
ines of places, such as might be presented in the exhibi-
tion we have alluded to; and the end constantly kept in
view has been to associate with a particular street or
building the representation of some public scene which
ordinarily takes place in connexion with that locality,
—so that the aggregate of these scenes may present a |
tolerably complete representation of the great social
characteristics of this multiform city. That our plan is
quite comprehensive enough may be seen from the fol-
lowing sketch.
“The Looking-Glass for London” will consist of
about fifty engravings ; the principal divisions of the
illustrative descriptions will be about half that number.
The connexion between the scenes painted and the sub-
jects described will be preserved without any difficulty.
Thus, the Municipal Government of the metropolis
(which is the subject of the present Number) will be
detailed as illustrative of the views of the Mansion House
and of Bow Street; the subject of the Administration
of Justice in connexion with Palace Yard and the Old
Bailey ; the aspect of London, as the seat of Legislation
and Government, will be associated with representa-
tions of Whitehall and the back of the Horse Guards.
Again, the external and internal Communications of
this great resort of strangers, and of this vast district
where the busy or the curious are constantly hurrying
fron. one extremity to the other, will be described in
connexion with views of Fleet Street and Mail Coaches, |
of Bishopsgate Street and Short Stages, of Holborn and
Omnibuses, of the River and Steamers. Again, the
Commerce of London will be described in connexion
with engravings of its Docks and of the Bank and the
Royal Exchange; its Manufactures with views of
Spitalfields and of parts of Lambeth; its Trade, with |
representations of Smithfield, Covent Garden, Billings-
gate, and the Borough High Street for Markets, and of |
Ludgate Street and Regent Strect for Shops. Again,
the Charitable Institutions of London will be given in
connexion with some striking scenes, such as a view of
Bethlem Hospital; its provisions for Education, with
representations of Westminster School and the Annual
Procession of Charity Children to St. Paul’s; its
Public Walks, with engravings of the Temple Gardens |
and the Green Park ; its Amusements in connexion with
the Theatres and Vauxhall; and its Exhibitions asso-
ciated with the National Gallery and the Zoological
Gardens. astly, there are many important aspects
of London connected with the Manners of the People
and their singular contrasts, which will furnish inter-
esting views and corresponding descriptions ;s—for ex-
ample, the Old Coach Inn and the Fashionable Clud,
MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF
If such an exhibition could be |
'of the world.
{January 3],
St. James’s Street and the Seven Dials, the almost de-
serted Orford Street and the crowded Hyde Park of
the London Sunday.
The preceding sketch imperfectly exhibits our plan;
but we hope that it will be sufficient to enable us to
eliter upon our task without farther preface.
THE MUNICIPAL GOVERNMENT OF THE
METROPOLIS. |
Ir we draw a line from north to south, running down.
through Holborn and the Strand, we shall have London
tolerably accurately divided, with reference to its grand
characteristics of being the central seat of governinent,
levislation, and law, and an emporium for the commerce
On the west side of this line lie the
palaces, the houses of Parliament, the chief courts of
justice, the great government offices, the parks, and
the splendid squares and streets which are the external
types of the presence of royalty and the court, and all
the rank and wealth and fashion which congregate
around them. On the east side lie the “ city,’—a small
kernel in a large shell—the docks and the port, and
their enormous accumulations. The boundaries of the
‘city’ have no external indications (except ‘Temple
Bar, at the end of Fleet-street) by which the stranger
may be able to mark it ont from the mass which hems
it round. It may be defined as lying along the Thames
from Temple Bar to the Tower; from the Tower the
boundary-line runs up in an irregular manner (describ-
ing a figure somewhat approaching to a semicircle)
through the heart of a dense population. ‘The city,
therefore, is like a bent bow, of which the Thames is
the cord. But though Southwark and Lambeth—each
of them having a population sufficient to make a large
city—aie not within the limits of the “ city,’ which do
not cross the river, they are peculiarly its appendages
and adjuncts. Soithwark is under the same municipal
regulations as the city. Within the city limits lie St.
Paul’s, the General Pest Office, the Bank of England,
the Royal Exchange, the East India House, the Man-
sion House, and Guildhall. .
Let us station ourselves at the Mansion House, the
palace of the civic monarch; the Lord Mayor. Here is
a busy and impottant thoroughfare. Opposite is the
massive pile of the Bank: beside it the agitating scene
of the Exchange. Up and down that great highway,
Cornhill and Cheapside, there is a continual rush of
men and horses and carriages. ‘The cabriolet flies past
with dangerous velocity—the omnibus thunders alone
—the heavy-laden waggon, with its feam of heavy
horses, drags onwards, blocking for a time some nar-
row channel, and irritating the impatient pedestrian.
This is the central spot of the commerce of the city,
and that city a central spot of the commerce of the
world. Yet, amid all the bustle and conflict of passion
and feeling, what a perfect order and regularity reigns!
There is an incessant throngs; and if a bar were laid
across the street for five minutes, the throng would
swell into a crowd, and from a crowd into’ a mob.
But no riots, no disturbances arise. Peace reigns—if
such a term be not inappropriate to a scene where,
from morning till night, there is a perpetual confusion
of sounds. |
What salt of life preserves such a body? Does the
king of the city, keeping his state within this mansion,
hold the reins of government with a firm and vigorous
hand, and is his very name a terror to the evil-doers ?
Has he an armed force ready to rush out on all who
would disturb the king’s peace or seize the property of
their neighbours? What hinders the pennyless from
laying foul hands on the rich? Might not a band of
daring fellows suddenly carry off this richly-laden car-
1937.)
ge, or, bursting into that shop stocked with jewels,
eather all their plunder before a sufiicient force could
be got together to match them?
In London generally, applying the name to the whole
extent of the metropolis, there are, as already stated,
about 2,000,000 of people. Numbers of this population
have grown up, and are growing up,in habits and incli-
nations which are, unfortunately, more or less opposed
to security and order. With such a reflection, it is really
marvellous to see how life and property are so com-
pletely protected. As to life, it is perfectly secure; for
the murders and manslaugliters which are produced by
sudden outbreaks of drunken or malignant passiou, or
the aberrations of intellect, are rare in occurrence, and
could hardly be restrained by the most perfectly-devised
police system. And as to robbery, it scarcely enters
into any man’s thoughts, when he walks about, that
he will be deprived of his property by violence. Craft,
cunning, imposition, subterfuge are the prime charac-
teristics of London robbery. ‘The master may be robbed
by his dishonest servant; the eager tradesman, anxious
to *“ do business,” may be imposed upon by the well-
dressed or plausible swindler; the simpleton, staring
about the streets, or enjoying himself in what to him
may be a new scene, a London public-house, may have
his vanity excited by artful conversation, be tempted to
show how much money he can produce, and in having
it carefully put up for him, get brown paper or coppers
substituted for bank-notes or gold; and the imprudent
or the thoughtless, by throwing themselves in the way
of temptation, may lose property intrusted to them,
and with it, perhaps, their own characters. But the
prudent individual may walk about even the worst parts
of London by night without danger, unless it be that
of having his pocket picked. Yet there are nests of
misery and crime in London, the inspection of which
by day would give to such an assertion the appearance
of being very improbable. The mazes of the Seven
Dials, the far-famed district of St. Giles, crowded with
a half-English half-Irish population, Tothill-street,
leading up from Westminster Abbey, and all the narrow
streets and lanes which lie along the Thames below
London Bridge, present a startling contrast to the
stateliness and grandeur of many of the streets of the
“west end.” Yet in these places the pedestrian is as
safe as in the crowded thoroughfares of Cheapside,
Fleet-street, the Strand, Holborn, or Piccadilly, at least
by day; the only difference being, that he may see
much that may move his pity or offend his taste. Not
even the Jong narrow lane which rnns up from the bot-
ton of Holbora Hill (known as Field-lane and Saffron
ill), which has for many a day borne a most notorious
character, and the very sight of which, to a timid
stranger, as he gazes at its narrow entrance, has a sus-
picious and deterring effect, dares to uphold its bad
pre-eminence of being able to beard the law. :
All this security is obtained in the midst of a varying
population, where numbers of the youth of both sexes
are growing up in crime and ignorance, and with
whose minds healing principles of morals or religion
seldom or never come in contact; where not a night
passes over in which unhappy wretches may not be
found whose follies or misfortunes leave them house-
less, unable to pay the threepence or fourpence which
would precure them the shelter of a cellar; and where
numbers of degraded and indolent creatures prowl
about, who prefer the gains of pauperism and impos-
ture to the returns of honest industry. And if such,
the philanthropist may exclaim, be the triumphs of
civilization in the midst of materials so rough and un-
formed, what may not reasonably be expected when
education, and the influence of morals and religion, are
fairly at work; when our wretched prison discipline is
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
39
improved, and benevolence has done its best to alle-
viate the miseries which spring from bad passions in-
dulged, the culture of the mind neglected, and evil
habits contracted. )
Such a reflection is warranted by the fact, that the
improved state of our metropolitan police is very re-
cent. Nearly 600 years ago a statute was passed (in
the year 1285, the 13th of Edward I.) in which, on
account of the murders and robberies taking place in
the city, it was enjoined that ‘‘ none be so hardy as to
be found going or wandering about the streets of
the city after curfew tolled at St. Martin’s-le-Grand
(the present busy site and scene of the General Post-
Office), with sword or buckler, or any other arms for
doing mischief, or whereof evil suspicion might arise;
nor in any manner, unless he be a great man, or other
lawful person of good repute, or their certain mes-
senger, having their warrant to go from one to another
with lantern in hand.” Yet upwards of 450 years
afterwards Gn 1744) the Lord Mayor and aldermen
went up with an address to the king, in which it was
stated that “‘ divers confederacies of evil-disposed per-
sons, armed with bludgeons, pistols, cutlasses, and
other dangerous weapons, infest not only the private
lanes and passages, but likewise the public streets and
places of sual concourse; and commit most daring
outrages upon the persons of your majesty’s good snb-
jects, whose affairs oblige them to pass through the
streets, by terrifying, robbing, and wounding them;
and these facts are frequently perpetrated at such times
as were heretofore deemed hours of security; that the
officers of justice have been repulsed in the perform-
ance of their duty, some of whom have been shot at,
some wounded, and others murdered, in endeavouring
to discover and apprehend the said persons.”
During the first half of the eighteenth century the
streets of London were far from being secure. Gav, in
his ‘ Trivia; or, the Art of walking the Streets of Lon-
don,’ which was first published in the year 1712, says—
‘Where Lincoln’s Inn, wide space, is rail’d around,
Cross not with venturous step: there oft is found
The lurking thief, who, while the daylight shone,
Made the walls echo with his begging tone ;
That crutch, which late compassion moved, shall wound
Thy bleeding head, and fell thee to the ground.
Though thou art tempted by the linkman’s call,
Yet trust him not along the loneély wall ;
In the mid-way he’ll quench his flaming brand,
And share the booty with the pilfering baad.
Still keep the public streets, where oily rays,
Shot from the crystal lamp, o’erspread the ways.”
The square of Lincoln’s-Inn-Fields is now, perhaps,
as safe at all hours as any part of London; but, fora
good many years after this time, it continued to be
notorious for the dangers which Gay describes. This
arose in a great measure from its vicinity to a nest of
profligacy, occupying the space now lying’ between the
Great and the Little Turnstiles, on the south side of
Holborn, where a formidable crew of the most aban-
doned and desperate characters were congregated to-
gether, forming a body which the arm of the law hardly
dared to touch. When this colony of criminals was
rooted out, and the square was properly lighted and
watched, the dangers for which it had been so long
infamous were at an end.
What would Gay, who advises the pedestrian at
night to
€¢
keep the public streets, where oily rays,
Shot from the crystal lamp, o’erspread the ways,’’
have thonght of the present gas-light illumination ?
His description applies to about a thousand lamps,
which were all that were hung out all over London
until the year 1736: and these were Kept Quomg only
, 29
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[ Bow Street, and the Assembling ofthe Police. ]
till midnight; and for one half of the year, namely, from | might get his own again, on payment of redemption
Lady-day till Michaelmas, were never lighted at all:
nay, even during the winter months, there were ten
nights every moon, from the sixth day after new to the
third day after full moon, on which, however cloudy
the sky, not a wick lent its feeble aid to dissipate the
obscurity. In fact, the thousand lainps were only kept
burning for about 750 hours in the course of the yezr.
‘he streets of a town left in this state were necessarily
delivered over, during a great part of every twenty-four
hours, to the uncontrolled dominion of robbers and
other violators of the law.
The second half of the eighteenth century presents
a considerable improvement. The streets were be-
sinning to be paved generally, thoroughfares were
widened, the west end of London was extended,
and many improvements effected, which along with
somewhat more vigorous eiforts to suppress existing
evils, led gradually to the security which we now enjoy.
Fielding, whose official situation at Bow Street doubt-
less often supplied him with materials for his pictures
of character and manners, wrote a pamphlet, in 1751,
in which he-strongly pointed out the feebleness of
our police system, and the almost unchecked boldness
of thieves and robbers. About fifty years afterwards
another police magistrate of the metropolis, Mr. Col-
quhoun, drew a most extraordinary and startling picture
of the state of society. is two works on the police
of the metropolis, and on the state of the port of Lon-
don, created a very great impression on the public mind.
His statements have been charged with exaggeration :
but, with every abatement, he exposed a most frightful
condition of things. Captains and mates of vessels,
revenue Officers, reputable tradesmen, the watermen,
and the labourers, appeared combined in a general
system of plunder and depredation; and in the city |
(using the word in its largest sense) thieves were
Organized into classes, and flash-houses existed, which
were not only winked at, but absolutely deemed neces-
sary by the pclice, where receivers and thieves con-
gregated, and where, by skilful negotiation, a man
money.
Though during the present century the improvements
sugested by Mr. Colquhoun have been, many of them,
eradually adopted, the war interrupted their progress,
aud many of the evils mentioned above existed till
within these few years back.
The ‘‘city” of London, in virtue of its privileges,
manages ifs own police. ‘The Lord Mayor and alder-
men, as such, are the police magistrates within the city
limits. ‘Che Lord Mayor presides generally at the
Mansion Honse, and an alderman at Guildhall. The
other parts of London have police justice administered
to them by stipeudiary magistrates, at different police
offices, which were established by government in 1792.
he present day police of the city of London was
established in 1832. In 1833 it amounted to 100 indi-
viduals ; but including superior officers, such as mar-
shals and marshals’ men, &c., it amounted to 120.
There were two marshals and six marshals’ men. ‘I'he
upper marshal receives a yearly salary of 540/., the
under 4502. JZach marshal’s man has ahout 130/. a
year, exclusive of fees for warrants and summonses.
In addition to the day police, the total number of
watchmen and other persons employed in the several
wards of the city of London was, in 1833, ordinary
watchmen, 500; superintending watchmen, 65; pa-
trolling watchmen, 91; and beadles, 54: total, 710.
The number of men on duty at twelve o’clock at night,
as stated in 1833, was, within the city, 380. The day
police is appointed and paid by the corporation out of
the corporation funds; the total expense, in 1832, was
9006/. ‘The sums ordered to be raised and levied
within the different wards, by authority of the mayor,
aldermen, and commons of the city, in common council
assembled, for the support of the night watch, was, in
1827, 34,700/.; in 1833, 42,0771. Though still under
the management of the different wards, the night watch
has been greatly improved within these few years by
the substitution of able young men for the aged and
often decrepid creatures to whom the guardianship o?
1837.]
our strects was formerly intrusted, and who were fre-
quently appointed out of mere charity.
Yo this police may be added the ward constables.
These are elected at the different wardmotes, chiefly
on St. Thomas’s Day. But these constables, who were
principally relied on, before the recent alteration of our
police, for the preservation of the public peace during
the day, do not act, unless directed by a magistrate to
execute a particular duty. On public occasions, the
lord mayor has power to collect them all together. The
inhabitant householders are liable, in their turn, to serve
the office of constable. ‘Those to whom the duty is
onerous endeavour to excuse themselves or procure a
substitute to serve for them. ‘The number of principal,
substitute, and extra constables, in 1831, was 408; in
1832, 409; and in 1833, it was 398. ‘The falling off
was attributed to the establishment of the day police
in the city, their services dispensing in some measure
with those of the ward constables.
The name of Bow Street, to the minds of the present
generation of London inhabitants conveys scarcely any
other idea than that it contains one of the metropolitan
police offices—of one which still retains the distinction
of being the head police office, and one of whose jus-
tices, as chief magistrate, has certain extra duties, and
is a medium of communication between the police de-
partment and government—but which, in other respects,
differs not from any of the other police offices. But to
a generation scarcely yet extinct, it had graver associa-
tions. Its name conjured up visions of mounted high-
waymen and daring footpads, and all the dangers of
Blackheath or Finchley Common. To be, in those
days, an eminent Bow Street officer, was no ordinary
distinction. The dexterity of the diplomatist and the
courage of the military man, had to be united in the
same individual—the hawk’s eye and the lion’s heart.
But if it is only in extraordinary times or circumstances
that extraordinary characters are developed, or the
exercise of extraordinary qualities required, we need
not regret that the good old Bow Street officer is no
more. We have fallen on better times, when it has
been proved to be unnecessary to maintain a system
of police espionage and acquaintance with thieves, and
to uphold a practice of compounding felonies, in order
to check crime. These things are going out; and it is
to be hoped that they will be soon as completely num-
bered with the things that were as is the mounted
hiehwayman.
‘The stranger who seeks for Bow-street Office may
very likely miss it, unless he detects it by some such
infallible sien as that of an officer loitering about the
door, or arrive at one of the .hours when the “‘ reliefs ”’
are going off, and men in uniform are streaming down
the street. ‘The police station-house is ou one side of
the street, and the office on the other, somewhat lower
down. ‘The office is distinguished by a lamp over thie
door, which, at night, is eclipsed by the superior brilli-
ancy of the lamp over the gin-shop a little below it,
or the one over the entrance to the cofiee-house op-
posite. Altogether the neighbourhood is a. singular
one. Above, is Covent Garden Theatre, a portion of
the portico of which appears in the engraving on page
36; round the corner of Russell Street below, is
Drury Lane Theatre; and at the opposite end of
Russell Street is Covent Garden Market. Drury Lane
extends its squalid length between the two great
thoroughfares of the Strand and Holborn, of which the
end next the Strand has two channels—one, a narrow
paved passage, which retains the primitive name of
Drury Court; the other Wych Street, turning off to
St. Clement’s churchyard, which it enters by the side
of Holywell Street—famous for Jews, old clothes, old
books, and old pictures, ‘The district in which lies
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
|
37
the head police office, the two national theatres, and
a celebrated market, and which may be said to be en-
closed on the south by the Strand, on the north by
Broad Street, St. Giles’s, on the east by Drury Lane,
and on the west by St. Martin’s Lane, is, unques-
tionably, one of the squalid regions of London. It is
hot so uniformly offensive as some others are, and, be-
sides its great attractions, there are interesting’ charac-
teristics to be remarked within it; but in its lanes and
recesses guilt, misery, and poverty will- be found
shrouding themselves from the light of day, and sally-
ing’ out at night to earn a wretched subsistence by vice
or crime. —..
Bow Street Police Office has been in existence up-
wards of a century; but it was placed on its present
footing in 1792, when the other police-offices wére es-
tablished. The nature of the services required of it
may be gathered from the fact, that forty or fifty years
avo there were numerous establishments iu the metro-
polis where swarms of the most lawless characters
openly congregated, and might he said to enjoy entire
security from even the approach of the wretclied police
which then existed. The names of some of these haunts
of profligacy were ‘the Bull in the Pound, the Apollo
Gardens, the Dog and Duck, the Temple of Flora, &c.
‘A dreadful society of vagabonds,” said Sir John Field-
ing, who remembered them well, when examined in
1816, ‘“‘ were certainly collected together in those
places.” © Ihence issued the bold ruffians by whom
highway robberies were perpetrated to such an extent
in those days. ‘* The character of the highwayman,”
continues Sir John, “is certainly less heard of since
the putting down those two infernal places of meeting,
the Dog and Duck and the Temple of Flora, which
were certainly the most dreadful places in or about the
metropolis.” Townsend, the celebrated Bow Street
officer, was examined by the same committee before
whom Sir John Fielding eave this evidence. He says,
“There is one thing which appears to me most extra-
ordinary, when I remember, in very likely a week, there
should be from ten to fifteen highway robberies. We
have not had a man committed for a highway robbery
lately; I speak of persons on horseback; formerly
there were two, three, or four highwaymen, some on
Hounslow Heath, sone on Wimbledon Common, some
on Finchley Common, some on the Romford road. 1
have actually come to Bow Street office in the morning,
and while I have been leaning over the desk, had three
or four people come in and say, I was robhed by two
highwaymen in such a place; I was robbed by a single
highwayman in such a place. People travel now safely
by means of the horse-patrol that Sir Richard Ford
planned. Where are these highway robberies now ? as
I was observing to the Chancellor (Lord Eldon) at the
time I was up at his house on the Corn Bill. He said,
‘Townsend, I knew you very well so many years ago.’
I said, ‘ Yes, my Lord, I remember your first coming
to the bar, first in your plain gown, and then as King’s
Counsel, and now Chancellor. Now, your Lordship
sits as Chancellor, and directs the executions on the
Recorder’s report; but where are the highway rob-
beries now?’ And his Lordship said, ‘ Yes, I am as-
tonished.’ There are no footpad robberies or road rob-
beries now, but merely jostling you in the streets. They
used to be ready to pop at a man as soon as he let down
his glass: that was done by bandittis.’? So the late
Sir Richard Birnie, in his evidence given in 1828, says,
‘““'There has not been a mounted highwayman these
thirty years.” .
Even the “ jostling in the streets,’ of which ‘Towns-
end speuks, has almost entirely disappeared. Yet, till
within these five or six years, many evils which we have
learned to think intolerable were not only tolerated,
BS
but could not be put down. Bulloek-hunting, duck-
hunting, and dog-fighting were favourite amusements
in the outskirts of the metropolis, especially on Sun-
days, gathering tumultuous and brutalizing crowds,
sogpetimes in the very neighbourhood and hearing of a
congregation assembled in a place of worship. ‘Ihe
only police force consisted of the parish constables, the
officers attached to each ‘police-office, and the old paro-
chial night-watch—the latter an enormous nuisance.
It cannot be wondered at that, in such a place as
London, the inefficiency of a police system planned in,
and adapted for, earlier times, should have been strongly
felt. The evils which were seen and deplored during
the eighteenth centnry began to press with a heavy
hand during’ the early part of the present; our popu-
lation was accumulating rapidly, and the means of pro-
tection and restraint necessarily became feebler every
day. An authority by no means disposed to undervalue
old institutions said, in 1828, **‘ There can be no doubt
that the whole of the existing watch system of London
and its vicinity ought to be mercilessly struck to the
evound. No human being has even the smallest con-
fidence in it. Scenes of collusion, tricks, compromises,
knaveries of all kinds, are brought to light daily; none
of the magistrates, rest the least faith on the statements
of these functionaries, unless when they are backed by
the statements of other persons. The feeling against
them is strong, exactly in proportion as opportunity of
learning their real habits has been abundant. Their
existence is a nuisance and a curse; and are they to be
upheld in order that vestrymen may provide for worth-
less or worn-out dependents, at the expense of the peace
aud security of such population and such property *?”
The new metropolitan police was established in 1829.
[ts formation, and its presence for the first two or three
years, were sicwed by the bulk of the people with sus-
picion and dislike. ‘There were natural reasons for
this. The new force had somewhat of a military orga-
nization, and the interference of such a body in eivic
matters was alien to the old-established habits and pre-
judices of Englishmen. Each parish had managed its
own police affairs; and in spite of the manifest evils
arising from the want of union and concert in the en- |
tire body, the taking away the management of it from |
those who had hitherto exercised it, and placing it in
the hands of commissioners (who might be termed the
commanders of a military-civic body), under the go-
vernment Secretary for Home Affairs, seemed an offen-
sive thing, and a deprivation of right and privilege, It
is unnecessary to add, that public opinion has under-
gone a great change. The act of parliament which
created the police force assigned, as a district, from
Brentford Bridge, on the west, to the river Lea, on
the east; and from Highgate, on the nsi th, to Streat-
ham and Norwood, on the south, except the city of
London. The diameter of this district is about twelve
or fourteen miles. By the census of 1831 it contained
a population of 1,493,012; before the establishment of
the new police it had 797 parochial day officers, 2,785 |
night watch, and upwards of 106 private watchmen.
Including the Bow Street day and night patrol, there
was about 4,000 on the police force of the entire dis-
trict; but then we must recollect that this was a dis-
jointed body, under different and often counteracting
management. ‘The new force is under the direct con-
trol and superintendence of two commissioners, who
devote their entire time to their duties; and they are
responsible to the Home Secretary of State, who, again,
of course;-is responsible to Parliament. This unity of
eovernment of the police force has been very beneficial
to its utility. Any portion of the body can be brought,
* The © Quarterly Review,’ vol. xxxvil.
MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF
the same causes in 1833 were under 20,0001.
[JANUARY 31,
on emergency, to bear upon any given portion of the
district. ‘The performance of the day and mht duty
by the same body is also a most important improve-
ment. The whole space is divided into beats, and is
watched day and night.
A committee of the House of Commons examinea, in
1834, the working of the mew metropolitan police sys-
tem, as compared with the old. The state of things
nuder the old system is thus characterized in the Re-
port :—** The police was roused into earnest action only
as some flagrant violation of the public peace, or some
deep injury to private individuals, impelled it into exer-
tion; and security to persons and property was sought.
to be obtained, not by the activity aud wholesome vigour
of a preventive police, which it is a paramount duty of
the state to provide, but by resorting from time to time,
as an occasional increase of the more violent breaches
of the law demanded it, to the highest and ultimate
penalties of that law, in the hope of checking the more
desperate offenders.” ‘* The nuisance of West End
Fair,” says Mr. Wray, the receiver of the metropolitan
police, and one of the witnesses examined by the com-
mittee, “Sis within the recollection of most persons; and
yet it will hardly be credited, that within seven years or
so, on the occasion of that fair, people were robbed in
open day, and females stripped of their clothes and tied
to gates by the road side, the existing police being set
at defiance. In St. Giles’s, Covent Garden, and Hol-
born, the streets exhibited on Sunday morning: scenes.
of the most disgraceful drunkenness and depravity, and
which the old parochial authorities in vain endeavoured
to repress. Among the old watchmen it was hardly
possible to assemble a number sufficient to disperse a
reenlar niob, and in no case were their efforts directed
beyond the boundaries of their own parish.”
Mr. Colquhoun, in his work on the Police of the
Metropolis, which was first published in 1796, esti-
mates the loss arising from the burglaries, hichway
robberies, and small thefts, in London alone, at the
enormous sum of 990,000. The losses arising fram
Mr. Col-
quhoun’s estimate is perhaps exaggerated, though he
deliberately adhered to it in subsequent editions of his
work; and the great improvements introduced in the
lapse of nearly forty years must necessarily be taken
into account in determining the share of merit in the
protection of property and prevention of crime to which
the new system may lay claim.
The following is a list of the different police establish-
ments which still exist in the metropolis, in addition to
the New Police:—Bow Street, including the Horse
Patrol, which watch the roads leading from the metro-
polis to a distance of from’ ten to sixteen miles; Marl-
borough Street; Hatton Garden; Worship Street ;
Lambeth Street; High Street, Marylebone; Queen
Square; Union Hall; Thames Police ; City of London
Police. The nine police offices, however, maintain
each only a snbordinate number of constables, imme-
diately attendant on the magistrates—the New Police
being generally ministrative to them, though, of course,
under the control and authority of the commissioners,
whose office is in Scotland Yard. Wecan, therefore.
say, in a correct sense, that there are but three police
bodies in London—the New, the City, and the Thames
Police.
Receipts and disburseinents on account of the Metro-
politan Police, made up to the 3lst of December, 1835:
—Amount received from parishes, 151,759/. 10s. 10d. ;
from the Treasury, 49,489/. 14s. 7d. ; colnet payments,
9.1782. 18s. 3d.; Total, 210,428/. The following are
the chief items. under the head of disbursements :—
Salaries to superintendents, 200/. per annum; inspec-
tors, 12, 1s. 6d. per week; serjeants, 1d, 2s. 6d. ditto;
1887.]
and constables, 19s. 6d. ditto :—169,745/. 15s. 11d. ;
clothing, 16,362/. Os. 5d.; police premises, 9,868/. 6s.
6d.; coals, 3,607/. 5s. 3d.; lamps and gas-lights,
14147. 10s. 6d.; medical attendance, 1,115/. 9s. ;
stable expenditure, 2,548/. 19s. Sd.; total amount of
disbursements, 208,221/. 19s. 9d.; all of which, with
the exception of 6,2572. 4s. 1d., had been actually paid
within the year.
We may close this brief view of the social state of
London, as regards its protective and municipal ar-
rangements, by an account of the Thames Police.
Some of the topics connected with this police force will
more suitably come within the limits of a future paper:
an account of its origin and state will be all that we
can give here.
The origin of thé Thames Police may be ascribed
directly to Mr. Colquhoun, though, of course, the ne-
cessity that existed for protection to the shipping in the
port of London was the primary cause. In Mr. Col-
quhoun’s treatise on the ‘ Commerce and Police of the
River Thames,’ he describes the exposed state of the
immense property annually arriving in the river, and
the systematic depredation carried on by river pirates,
nieht plunderers, aided by receivers, journeymen coopers,
aud other tradesmen, as well as the crews, mates of
vessels, and revenue-officers. The character of the
watermen was at this time very bad. ‘Then there were
lower grades among this great combination of thieves:
Mud-larks, so denominated because they ostensibly
eained a livelihood by grnubbing in the mud of the
Thames at low water for matters lost or thrown over-
board, but who were in reality dangerous assistants to
the thieves; rat-catchers, who, under pretence of clear-
ing a ship of vermin, availed themselves of opportunities
for plunder, &c. &c.
The West India merchants were the first to set on
foot a protective and preventive police for the river.
Mr. Colquhoun suggested a plan which received the
approbation of the body of merchants, and subse-
quently of Government ; and the Duke of Portland, in
1798, requested Mr. Colquhoun, who was then a ma-
vistrate at Queen’s Square, to bestow his time and at-
tention on maturing the plan, providing a substitute
for him at his office at the public expense while he was
so occupied. Various alterations have been since
made in the system, as it was originally established.
The limits of the jurisdiction of the Thames Police
extends, upon the Thames, so far as the river runs be-
tween the counties of Middlesex and Surrey, Essex and
Kent; but the common supervision of the river is con-
fined to the busy parts of the river, from Greenwich to
a little above Westminster: occasionally the boats go
lower and higher. In consequence of a vigilant system
of look-out and summary punishment, which extends
to the various docks, certain of the dock officers are
sworn in by the magistrates, under the authority of the
Secretary of State, as Thames Police constables, but
they are paid by the respective dock companies. ‘The
land district which is included within the jurisdiction of
the ‘Thames Police comprises the parishes of Wapping,
Aldeate, St. Katherine’s, Shadwell, and Ratcliffe.
"There are twenty-one surveyors on the establishment
of the Thames Police, each of whom has charge of a
boat and three men while on duty. ‘The surveyors,
having cause to suspect that any felony has been or is
about to be committed on board any ship, are authorized
to enter at all times, by night or day, for the purposes
of detection or prevention. They frequently board
vessels newly arrived, and after cargoes have been dis-
charged; they go into the docks, and board vessels
there; they interfere in smuggling cases that come to
their knowledge, being themselves officers of the cus-
toms; and they have also to see that certain regulations
’ THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
39
are observed by vessels in port, sucn as not having more
than a limited quantity of eunpowder on board.
The chief surveyor of the Thames Police has 1601.
a year; the inspecting surveyor 100/.; six receive 901. ;
six 75/., and one 70/. There are four land constables,
a gaoler, and an office keeper, at 25s. a week each ;
thirty river constables at 23s., and thirty at 21s. per
week. The establishment is under the direction of the
magistrates of the Thaines Police Office. :
It is remarked by Mr. Murray, one of the magistrates
of Union Hall, the whole of whose evidence before the
parliamentary committee of 1833 deserves particular
notice, that “it is obvious that the police courts, sitting
daily, open to all classes of a thickly peopled metropolis,
and entertaining every possible case incident to vice,
misery, and passion, are calculated to exert a consider-
able influence on public conduct, differing in its extent
and effects in a great degree according to the estimation
in which these tribunals are held. It is equally clear
that they are not at present as highly estimated as is
consistent with the benefits they may be capable of con-
ferring. Casual or reluctant visiters are not judges of
the nature and amount of a police magistrate’s business;
of the many cases of deep interest which crowd upon his
attention, the constant demands upon his experience,
the frequent trials of his patience, and the repeated
calls upon his knowledge of human nature. The value
of his office does not consist more in the strict leeal
performance of his judicial and administrative duties,
than in the exercise of a sound discretion, and in the
considerate application of the principles and feelings of
humanity, as an adviser, an arbitrator, and a mediator.
The bearing at a police-office may in some instances,
especially to the young-and misguided, be the opening
of new views of life and new rules of conduct. There is
scarcely a conceivable case, arising particularly among
the lower orders, which may not immediately or indi-
rectly come under the notice of the police-offices. It is
most important, therefore, that every means should be
adopted for upholding their reputation, and so extend-
ing and increasing their moral influence.”
‘The present amount of attendance and occupation
at the police offices is as follows:—One of the three
magistrates is present at each office every morning
from eleven to three, or as much longer as the business
lasts, and again in the evening; and a second is present
for the donble business from twelve to three every day ;
the result of this arrangement being, that each police
magistrate may be said to work two whole days and
two half days in every week; and unless special cir-
cunistances call for extra attendance, he has the entire
control of the two other days.
The Parliamentary Committee of 1834 conclude their
Report with the following decided expression of opi-
nion :—
“Your committee, keeping in view the whole evidence
now placed before the house, conclude with this expres-
sion of their opinion; viz., that the metropolitan police
force, as respects its influence in repressing crime, and
the security it has given to person and property, 1s one
of the most valuable of modern institutions. And the
hieh character of those who now direct it, and the con-
sequent improvement in the moral character and disei-
pline of the men, tomether with its successful working
in practice, has clearly shown, that what, under the old
police, was considered by the magistrates and the most
experienced officers as a necessary evil—viz., flash
Houses, where the most vicidus and desperate charac-
ters were allowed openly to assemble, hardening each
other in their career of crime, and seducing others, in
order that they might be more readily secured when an
adequate reward was offered, and the association of the
40
police constables with low and infamous characters as
a means of obtaining information, is not a necessary
part of a system which has for its object only the pre-
vention and detection of crime; and there is reason to
hope that the present system may carry into practice,
to the utmost extent, every measure which can augment
the difficulty and multiply obstructions in the way of
the depredator, as well as every arrangement best cal-
culated to diminish the chances of a profitable con-
version of property when dishonestly cbtained. The
former will tend to prevent, the latter to diminish, the
motives to commit crime.
“Your committee, however, do not rely upon any
system of police, howev er perfect, for the diminution of
crime, unless in connexion with an enlightened system
of prison discipline and secondary punishments, and the
still wider diffusion of moral and religious education ;
which are the great and the only means of perma-
nently advancing the moral and social condition of the
people.”
In a subsequent paper we shall analyse the classes =
criminals, the nature of their offences, and their ages
(as far as we have materials), in London, and compare
them with the amount of population. But the follow-
ing particulars respecting juvenile depravity, which
were communicated by an intelligent police-officer, Mr.
Thomas, to a committee of the House of Commons in
1828, are affecting; nor, we fear, though the lapse of
eight years has brought about some important changes,
can much be deducted from the statements. ,
*© According :to your observation, are, there many.
boys employed about the theatres in picking pockets ?
—Yes; I have taken seven or eight at a time: I speak
of boys that are, bill-deliverers. There. is a publication
called the Theatrical Observer, and those boys deliver
the bills, and, - if. they possibly can, they pick pockets.
‘There are ‘from fifty to sixty immediately round the
theatre; I.took eight of them before Sir Richard
Birnie, one night, to. try how far we could interfere in
dispersing them ; ; and Sir Richard Birnie spoke to
them. One rave one account and one another; some
came from a part of the town called Mutton Hill, at:
the end of Hatton Garden, some from St. Giles’ s, and
some from Tothill-fields, Westminster; and they place
themselves all down Brydges Street, Catherine Street,
Charles Street, Bow Street, and oid the piazzas at
Covent Garden, and even as far as St. Martin’s Conrt,
Leicester Fields.
What are their parents?—In many instances they
are fatherless, and in some instances they have proved
to have neither father nor mother. There was one
littie fellow, a most intelligent and interesting looking
lad as ever I saw, who stated that his father was an
officer; that he had been born in Colchester barracks ;
he was illegitimate, and that his father in the first in-
stance had abandoned him, and finally his mother, and
that he had no other means of living, and he paid four-
pence anight for his lodgings; that boy was cautioned,
along with the rest, never “to be seen there any more;
one or two of them went down on their knees before
Sir Richard Birnie, and made most solemn assurances
that they never would, and within an hour I found
them at it again, and they have continued to do so ever
since.
“Do these boys attend any school?—None, as I
believe.
‘ Are there not many boys of that age who sleep in
baskets and on the offal round Covent Garden ?—Yes;
I have taken some of them up, and I have saved ae
or two from destruction, by taking charge of them in
the night and handing them over to their parents.
There was an instarice of a son of a surveyor at Mary-
le-bone: I found him in company with some professed
MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT.
[JANUARY 31, 1837,
thieves at three o'clock one morning ; he had a watei:
and some shirts, and other things, which were the pro-
perty of his father, and he was then only waiting for
daylight to get a ship to go off; and I took him to the
watch- Pout. for the night, and he was restored to his
anxious father the next day.
‘‘ Are there not certain classes of boys that Haye no
regular lodgings, who live in the market, and who sleep
in the baskets at night ?>—Yes, there are, and not only
at night, but in the “day. We can take nearly a hun-
dred of them, particularly at the time the oranges are
about ; they come there picking up the bits of oranges,
both boys and girls. I counted last night, at the king’s
entrance of the theatre, seventeen individuals, men
and women, that were apparently houseless, sleeping
there.”
- Children are sometimes brought before the magis-
trates of “ten years of age, and even under.” These
juvenile delinquents are frequeptly employed by the
older thieves to assist them in cases in which the small-
ness of their persons gives them an advantage; as, for
instance, in,entering. a house by a window from which
one of the panes. has been removed. In. committing
their ordinary depredations, they generally prowl about
the streets in companies of two or three, of whom each
has his particular part to act, one snatching up the
plunder, and another receiving it from him and run-
ning off with it.
It is very obvious that no mere » police regulations
are at all likely to be effectual in putting down this de-
scription of criminals, so lone. as the destitution and
abandonment by which they are bred continue to exist.
They are the natural produce of that hotbed of vice
and misery ; and will continue to issue from it while it
remains unremoved. <Any punishments that may be
inflicted can, in the nature of things, operate but very
imperfectly in restraining either their .growth or their
delinquencies. To send them to jail, as most of our
jails are at present conducted, is only tosend them to the
best school of crime. But even.if our system of prison
discipline were made ever so perfect, this improvement
alone could not be expected to clear our streets of these
marauders, for successive detachments of whom, indeed,
a prison might afford an asylum for a few months, but
it could be for that short period only. When again
restored to liberty they would still, as at present, find
themselves again ‘thrown upon their own resources, and
compelled to resort to their former practices. Besides,
no reformation, even were it complete and permanent,
of the existing race, could prevent the succession of
new swarms from the same prolific source. To heal
this disease of our political condition, the general habits
of the most degraded portion of our population must be
changed, and education and all other salutary influences
plentifully and perseveringly applied, to eradicate the
vice and wretchedness with which they are overrun.
The statements given in this Number of the * Penn
Magazine’ relate almost exclusively to what may be
termed the external state and appearance of the muni-
cipal institutions of London. Other occasions will
arise which will lead us to treat of the internal govern-
ment and constitution of the corporation of the city,
and of the governing bodies of the other parts of Lon-
don. Still, the reader must bear in mind that our plan
relates more to the external than to the internal con-
dition of this great metropolis.
*,* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at
_ 59, Lincoln’s Inn Fields,
LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT & CO., 22, LUDGATE STREET,
Printed by WizL1aM Clowzs and Sons, Stamford Street,
en
THE PENNY MAGAZINE
IF THE
society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge.
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PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY.
[Fesruary 4, 1837.
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{Fountain of Paul Vie Home.)
No people ever equalled the Romans in the mag-
nificence of the works which they constructed for the
purpose of bringing supplies of water to their various
provincial capitals, as well as to Rome itself. Strabo
says, that such a quantity of water was introduced into
the city, that whole rivers seemed to flow through the
streets and down the sewers; so that every house had
its pipes and cisterns, sufficient to furnish a copious
and abundant supply. ‘Their aqueducts are incon-
testable monuments of the greatness of their designs ;
and valleys, mountains, and extensive plains offered no
inpediments which they did not surmount by skill, and
the exercise of an indomitable will. The edifice where
various aqueducts united was called ‘‘ castellum,” and
was generally not only a solid but even maguificent
construction.
and ornamented with marble pillars. Pliny states, that
Agrippa alone erected 130 of these reservoirs, and
opened 105 fountains in connexion with them, which
were adorned with 300 brass or marble statues. It is
believed that the daily supply of water in ancient
Rome amounted to 800,000 tuns. The three aque-
ducts which now remain are those of the Acqua Ver-
gine, of the Acqua Felice, and of the Acqua Paulina.
The first discharges itself into the Fontana di Trevi;
the second into the Fontana di Termini ; and the third
Sometimes they were cased with marble, -
the Fontana Polina represented i in tlie engraving. The
quantity of water which is supplied. is ‘abundant, the
quality extremely salubrious; and the arrangements for
an, equal distribution of the element are on a scale of
convenience as well as magnificence. Every quarter,
however ‘poor, is well supplied ;‘and there are few of
the fountains which do not possess some claim upon
the attention, either from their size, form, or situation.
Mr. Eustace remarks, in his ‘Classical Tour,’ that
‘the modern Romans, though inferior in numbers and
opulence to their ancestors, have shown equal taste
and spirit In this respect, ‘and deserve a just eulogium,
not. only for having procnred an abundance of water,
but for the splendid and truly imperial style in which
it is poured forth for public use.” . He proceeds to
draw an amusing comparison between these fountains
and the water-works that often adorn public walks and
palace-gardens. ‘‘ Artificial fountains,” - he says, “in
weneral. are little better than ornamental pumps, which
sometimes squirt out a scanty thread of water, and some-
times distil only a few drops into’ a muddy ' basin.
Those on a greater scale now and then throw up a
column, or pour a torrent, as occasion may. require, on
certain state days, or for the amusement of some dis-
tinguished personage, and then subside till a ‘fresh
supply enables them to renew the exhibition. Such
divides itself into two channels, one of which supplies! are the so- -much- celebrated water-works of St. Cloud,
Vou. VI,
G
42
Marli, and Versailles; inventions which can be con-
sidered only as playthings, calculated, like « theatrical
decoration, to act an occasional part, and to furnish a
momentary amusement, but too insignificant to be
introduced into the resorts of the public.” The three
finest fountains of Rone are the Fontana Felice, the
Fontana di Trevi, and the Fontana Paolina. ‘The Fon-
tana di Trevi is considered to be the finest fountain in
the world. It is supplied with a deluge of water; and
in the summer evening's the square in which it stands
is resorted to on account of the freshness which is
diffused through the air. The waters of the Fontana
Felice are discharged into a vast basin through a rock,
under an Jonic arcade, built of white stone, and faced
with marble. The ‘Penny Magazine, No. 207, con-
tains an engraving of one of the fountains of Bernini,
to whom Rome is indebted for some very fine construc-
tions of this kind. In the same Number an allusion
is made to the Fontana Paolina, represented in the
cut. This fountain was constructed by the architect
Fontana, by order of Pope Paul V., with materials
taken from the forum of Nerva. Six Ionic columns of
red granite support an entablature containing imscrip-
tions, and supporting the arms of the pontiff, The
water rushes in a complete torrent through the priaci-
pal issues, and in a smaller stream through orifices in
the mouths of dragons, which are placed in niches on
each side. A fine “basin of white marble receives this
abundant supply of water, which is of the purest kind.
Eustace says:—‘* The lofty situation of this fountain
renders it a conspicuous object to all the opposite hills.
The trees that line its sides and wave to the eye through
its arches, shed an wnusual beauty around it; and the.
immense basin which it replenishes gives it the appear-
ance, not of the contrivance of human ingenuity, but
almost the creation of enchantment.”
SCHOOL-HOUSES.
Tn a recent Number of the ‘ Penny Maagzine, (No. '
300), a recommendation was given that, wherever it
was practicable, school-houses, places of worship, cot-
tages, and similar buildings should be made to unite
convenience and propriety with as large a degree of
beauty and elegance of design as is consistent with the
objects and purposes of each description of building.
This may be accomplished with so small an addition to
the cost of erection as scarcely to form an object of con-
sideration. If the expense were so much greater as
really to form an obstacle to the progress of school-
houses, we should at once give up the idea of rendering
them acreeable objects to the eye, and should urge the
adoption of the baldest design, or even tlie covering in
of four bare walls, or any plan for a bmlding devoted
to objects which should remove so many of the chil-
dren of the poorer classes in our large towns from the
miserable rooms, cellars, and garrets in which they re-
ceive the small measure of instruction which is given
to them. We are indebted to a society established
about two years ago at Manchester, aud which exhibits
the enlightened public spirit of a great manufacturing
cityin a most honourable and gratifying light, for some
accurate information on the subjects of schools and
education. The Manchester Statistical Society is not
bound together by any political ties, but the stimulus
under which it has pursued its honourable labours has
been the desire of advancing the common happiness.
It has direeted its attention to-the statistics of educa-
tion, and in connexion with this subject it has already
cempleted minute inquiries at Manchester, Salford, and
Bury, and more recently at Liverpool, where, at a con-
siderable expense, about seven months have been de-
voted to a laborious investigation of the means of edu-
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
[Fepruary 4,
'
cation inthat town. Without going into all the results
which have been brought out, we take some extracts
from the reports, which show most forcibly the neces-
sity of some strong exertion being made to place the
education of the people on a better footing. Nothing
can be more affecting than the thought that so many
thousand beings, who are to act their part in life at
some future period, should be left so destitute of the
means of acquiring that intelligence and of forming
those habits which may guide them through its diffi-
culties with safety and advantage. ‘These poor chil-
dren, pent up in a miserable room, gasping for a purer
atmosphere, and seeking from ignorance that which
knowledge itself can scarcely diffuse unless it be en-
dowed with a strong sympathy for humanity, is a pic-
ture deeply calculated to aronse public attention; and
the Manchester Statistical Society has drawn a dark
and faithful portraiture, which must fix the subject in
the public mind.
At Manchester, we learn, the ‘‘ dame-schools” are
cvenerally found in very dirty, unwholesome rooms—
frequently in close, damp cellars, or old dilapidated
garrets. In one of these schools eleven children were
found in a small room, in which one of the children of
the mistress was lying in bed ill of the measles; an-
other child had died in the same room of the same
complaint a week before, and no less than thirty of the
usual scholars were confined at home of the same dis-
ease. In another school which was visited, all the chil-
dren, to the number of twenty, were squatted upon the
bare floor, there being no benches, chairs, or furniture of
any kind. Many other schools were nearly in as bad a
state; and in all, with scarcely an exception, the means
of education and instruction were equally deplorable.
Moral education, real cultivation of mind, and improve-
ment of character are totally neglected. ‘ Morals!”
| said one master, in answer to the inquiry whether he
{ taught them, “ Morals! how am I to teach morals to
| the like of these ?”
In Liverpool the ‘‘dame-schools” are no better. The
Report says, “* With few exceptions the dame-schools
are dark and confined; many are damp and dirty;
more than one-half of them are used as dwelling, dor-
mitory, and school-room ; accommodating, in many
cases, families of seven or eight persons. Above forty
of them are cellars. Of the common day-schools in
the poorer districts it is dificult to convey an adequate
idea; so close and offensive is the atmospliere, as to he
intolerable to a person entering from the open air, more
especially as the hour for quitting school approaches.
The dimensions rarely exceed those of the dame-schools,
while frequently the number of scholars is more than
double. The masters are generally ignorant of the de-
pressing and nnhealthy effects of the atmosphere which
surrounds them, and do uot consider it desirable that
their schools should be better ventilated. A circum-
stance which proves the unwholesome condition of many
of these schools, is the very rapid spread of infectious
or epidemic disorders, which occasionally make their
appearance in them. The measles, scarlet fever, small-
pox, and ophthalmic affections, never attack one scholar
alone. frequently one-half of the scholars are affected
at the same time; and some of the schools have been
visited at times, when two-thirds of the children usually
attending were detained at home by such complaints.
These cases have invariably occurred in the most un-
healthy and ill-ventilated schools, while, in schools more
favourably circumstanced, it has rarely happened that
more than three or four of the scholars have been ab-
sent on account of illness at the same time.”
Such is the general description of the dame and
common day-schools in Liverpool; but it may be as
well to add some details of several particular schools,
in order that it may be seen whether the language of
1837.]
exaggeration has been employed. 1. This school is iv
a g@arret, up three pair of broken stairs. In the com-
pass of ten feet by nine were forty children. On a
perch, forming a triangle with the corner of the room,
sat a cock and two hens; under a stump-bed, immedi-
ately beneath, was a dog-kennel in the occupation of
three black terriers, whose barking, added to the noise
of the children and the cackling of fowls, on the ap-
proach of a stran@er, were almost deafening. ‘There
was only one small window, at which sat the master,
obstructing three-fourths of the light it was capable of
adinittine. 2. This school is also in a garret, very
much dilapidated. ‘The room was nine feet by twelve,
aud there were thirty-eight scholars. Not more than
six of these had any book. A desk, at which only five
boys could be accommodated at the same time, was all
(he provision for writing and arithmetic. The room
below was in the occupation of a cobbler, whose wife
lay ill in bed of a fever, himself pursuing lis avocation
near to her bedside. 38. The descent to this school is
by a flight of narrow-steps, fifteen inches in width, and
covered with filth. The room is naturally dark, but
is rendered. doubly so from the dirt without and the
steam within the windows. The forms are composed
of four old bed-stocks, resting on brick supports; the
writing-desk is a three-legoed table or stool, accommo-
dating only one scholar at a time. 4. In one school
an old form supplied the place of a desk; three small
children were kneeling on the floor to write at it, and
two taller ones sat on the floor, with their legs thrust
under it.
There are 241 ‘‘ dame-schools” in Liverpool, and
they are attended by nearly 2000 children under five
years of age, and by 3000 children above the age of
five years. In the common day-schools there are 5500
children under the age of fifteen. This shows that
the desire for education is almost universal, but, un-
happily, at these schools there is no prospect of this
object being properly attained. The Report says:—
‘In the poorest schools no pretence is made to teach
morals, and many masters have no idea what teaching
morals can possibly mean. ‘he generality of teachers,
indeed, entertain very imperfect notions on this subject.
The prevailing idea is, that morals are best taught by
visiting the more flagrant deviations from rectitude
with therod. ‘To show how imperfect is the knowledge
of some masters on the subject of morals, one master
being asked if he taught morals observed, * That
question does’nt belong to my school; it belongs more
to girls’ schools.’” Some melancholy instances are
oiven of the total unfitness of the teachers of these
schools :—on one occasion the children of a common
day-schoo] were found playing in a garret, and it was
stated that the master had been away drinking for
several days together. It is not uncommon to find the
mistress of a dame-school gone out for the day, and her
school in charge of some neiglibonr, or some neighbour's
child. Sometimes she is found washing at the back of
the house; at other times the washing and drying is
carried on in the school. ‘Iwo teachers of dame-schools
were girls of thirteen years of age, one of whom had
been left by her father, after his wife’s death, to support
herself and an infant brother; others of the respective
ages of seventy-five, eighty, and eighty-three, were
met with. "Ten mistresses were in receipt of assistance
from the poor-rate.
Our object at piesent is not to give a complete view
of the state of education amongst the poorer classes in
Liverpool, but to show that the work of education
cannot possibly be carried on with advantage un-
less suitable school houses be provided. ‘The Report
of tlhe Manchester Statistical Society fully confirms
this view. It is remarked that “a sufficiency of light
and of space and of proper ventilation is essential in
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
“43
every school-room ;” and that ‘the confusion is always
oreatest m1 those schools which are most deficient in
these respects.” The difficulties which the masters
and mistresses have to contend with in consequence of
these defects have a tendency “to distract their atten-
tiou, to exhaust their energies, and depress their-spirits
to an extent of which they themselves are not at all
aware.”
PRESS WARRANT FOR SINGING BOYS.
inz only impressment remembered in the present age
is that cruel expedient which was once resorted to for
procuring a sufficient number of able men to serve in
the navy; but in former times it was frequently resorted
to for obtaining workmen for the service of the king,
and, according to the Sloane MS. in the British
Museum, No, 2035, a species of the same tyranny was
practised even in the time of Elizabeth for the purpose
of getting choristers for the different royal chapels.
The following is a copy of the royal mandate, which
bears her majesty’s autograph :—
** By the Queene, Elizabeth R.
** Whereas we have authorysed our servaunte Thomas
Gyles, Mr. of the children of the eathedrall churche of
St. Paule, within our eittie of London, to take upp suche
apte and meete children as are most fitt to be instructed
and framed in the arte and science of musicke and
singinge as maye be had and fonnd out within anie
place of this our realme of England or Wales, to be by
his education and bringinge up made meete and liable
to serve us in that behalf when our pleasure is to call
for them.
** Wee therefore by the tenor of these presents will
and require you that you permit and suffer from hence-
forthe our saide servaunte Thomas Gyles and his deputie
or deputies, and every of them to take up in anye ca-
thedrall or collegiate churche or churches, and in everye
other place or places of this our realme of England and
Wales suche childe or children as he or they or anye of
them shall finde and like of, and the same childe and
children by vertue hereof for the use and service afore-
saide with them or any of them, to bring awaye with-
oute anye letts, eontradictons, staye, or interruptions
to the contrarie, charginge and commandinge you and
everie of you to be aydinge, helpinge, and assistinge to
the above named Thomas Gyles and his deputie and
deputies in and aboute the due executon of the premisses
for the more spedie, effectnall, and better accomplishing
thereof from tyme to tyme, as you and everie of you
doe tendar our will and pleasure, and will answere for
doinge the contrarie at yor perilles.
* Gouen under our sienet at our Manor of
Grenewich, the xxvith daye of Aprill, in the
xxvuth yere of our reien.
To all and singular Deanes, Prouostes, Maisters,
and Wardens of Collegies, and all ecclesiasticall psons
and mynisters, and to all other our officers, mynisters,
and subiects to whome in this case it shell apperteyne,
and to everye of them e@reetinge.”
BRITISH FISHERIES.—No. I.
Tue surface of nearly three-fourths of the globe is co-
vered with water, and this vast space is peopled as
thickly with aniniated beings as the land; but the diffi-
culties which arise when an investigation into their
nature and habits is attempted, renders this field of
observation comparatively unknown. Concerning even
some which are most familiar to us our knowledge is
limited, and the difficulty of accumulating facts renders
the progress of information slow. Still, the persever-
ance and industry of some active minds have done much
G 2
44
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————— 7 — SS ———
Fr = — 4 = wor
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OWN GE 7? SSS FF Bec
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{Beach at Yarmouth=-Fishermen going out.]
to render the study. of ichthyology full of interest.
Many difficulties and obscurities have been removed,
and sufficient is known to excite a desire to know more.
The papers which are intended to appear in succession
in the * Penny Magazine’ will not involve the reader in
the intricacies of the science ; and though it may some-
times be necessary to remove erroneous impressions
concerning the natural history of different fishes, yet,
as none but those which are directly useful to man will
be brought under notice, they will comprise only those
respecting which there is the largest number of authen-
ticated facts. Facts rather than theories will be brought
forward, and these are fortunately in sufficient abund-
ance to lessen the temptation to speculate. There are
a number of circumstances which contribute to render
the department of natural history which it is proposed
to investigate interesting to the people of this country.
Great Britain possesses a coast-line of above 3000 miles
in extent, and that of Ireland is above 1000 miles. ‘The
population which inhabits these coasts are all more or
less engaged in fisheries. Our shores abound with
those species of fish which exist in the largest numbers,
and yield a supply of food the most acceptable. These
shores are indented with bays and harbours, which pro-
tect the fishermen, facilitate his employment, and render
it a, branch of national industry, whose importance it
will be interesting duly to estimate, in order that its
value, as compared with other sources of occupation
and riches, may be justly appreciated.
It may be convenient in this place to give the most
approved arrangement of fishes, as references will be
occasionally made to the position which different species
occupy in the scale. ‘They are placed by Cuvier in the
fourth class of organized beings, after beasts, birds,
and reptiles. This class is divided into two sub-classes
~—viz., cartilaginous fishes and osseous fishes. In the
former the bones are gristly and in the latter firm,
though less so than those of land animals, the matter of
which they are composed being differently proportioned, |
Pd f {
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THE PENNY MAGAZINE,
- PA Se :
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The cartilaginous fishes are divided into three orders:
—l. Cyclostomi, having the jaws [fixed and the gills
adhering, with numerous openings—e. g., the lamprey.
2. Selachii, having teeth instead of jaws, and the gills
toothed like a comb—the ray. 3. Sturiones, having
the gills free—the sturgeon.
The osseous fishes are divided into six orders :—
I. The Plectognathi have fibrous bones and fixed jaws
—e. @., the sun-fish. 2. The Lopobranchii have gills
in the form of smali round tufts—the hippocampus.
3. The Malacopterygii Abdominales have the rays of
the fins generally soft, and the ventral fins placed far
behind—the salmon. 4. The Malacopterygii Subbra-
chiati have gills resembling the tooth of a comb, and
the ventral fins are placed either before the pectoral
fins, between them, or a little behind them—the whit-
ing. 3. The Malacopterygii Apodes are footless, or
without ventral fins—the eel. 6. In the Acanthopte-
rygii the first rays of the fins are supported by a spinous
process, and pointed like a thorn—the sword-fish. ¥
The tins exercise considerable influence on the habits.
of fishes, and are the substitutes for limbs. The pec-
toral or breast-fin assists in supporting the upper part
of the body, and gives‘a diréction to its motion; the
dorsal or back-fin steadies it; the ventral or belly-fin
acts as an oar, and impels it alone; the vent or hind-
fin, with the pectoral fin, keeps the fish in a horizontal
position ; and the tail or caudal fin is the great or@an
of progressive motion, acting like a scull. It has been
found that if the pectoral and vent-fins are cut off,
fishes lose the power of controlling the direction of
their movements. A glance at the engraving will
show the position of these fins in the herring.
It is unnecessary to go farther into the natural his-
tory of the species. An opportunity will be afforded
of noticing any peculiarities of formation in giving
some account of each fish as it comes under notice.
The course will generally be to give: —1. Natural his-
tory of the fish, 2. Mode of taking and preparing as
of é d e
= ) th £ -
e/ f “ Sf aff s of 1 f <
[Fesruary 4,
an article of commerce.
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
3. Commercial importance of | of capital and population.
AS
We shall begin with the
the fishery, and its value as a source of employment | herring.
[ Herring—C/upea harengus. |
Natural History of the Herring.—The herring is
found in the third order in Cuvier’s arrangement ; and
with the pilchard, sprat, shad, anchovy, and white-bait,
belongs to the Clupee genus. It weighs about five
ounces and a half. ‘The upper part of the body is blue
and ereen, and the lower parts of a silvery white.
Owing to the gill-lids being very loose and opening
wide, the herring dies almost the instant it is taken out
of the water; hence, perhaps, the saying, “‘ as dead as
a herring.” In twenty-four hours the gill-covers pre-
sent an extravasated appearance. ‘The lower jaw is
furnished with five or six teeth; the inferior edges of
the upper jaw are serrated; and on the tongue there
are also small teeth. ‘The food of the herring consists
of minute animals which are found in the depths of the
ocean; but they will also feed upon the young. of their
own species, and they may be taken with limpets and
also with an artificial fly.
The herring is not found in warm regions, nor farther
south than the northern coasts of France. The most
interesting point connected with its natural history
is the annual movement which it makes. Pennant,
whose zoological labours entitle him to much respect,
about the middle of the last century gave an account
of their periodical migration, which has been implicitly
copied by nearly every succeeding writer. He repre-
sents them as coming from their ereat winter rendez-
vous within the Arctic Circle. ‘* They begin (he says)
to appear off the Shetland Isles in April and May.
These are only forerunners of the grand shoal which
comes in June; and their appearance is marked by
certain signs, by the numbers of birds, such as gannets
and others, which follow to prey on them; but when
the main body approaches, its breadth and depth are
such as to alter the very appearance of the ocean. It
is divided into distinct columns of five or six miles in
leneth and three or four in breadth, and they drive the
water before them with a kind of rippling; sometimes
they sink for the space of ten or fifteen minutes, then
rise again to the surface, and in bright weather reflect
a variety of splendid colours. ‘The first check this
army meets in its march southward is: from the Shet-
land Isles, which divide it into two parts. One wing
takes to the east, the other to the western shores of
Great Britain, and fill every bay and creek with their
numbers. Others pass on towards Yarmouth, the great
and ancient mart of herrings; they then pass through
the British Channel, and after that in a manner disap-
pear. Those which take to the west, after offering
themselves to the Hebrides, where the great stationary
fishery is, proceed towards the north of Ireland, where
tlley meet with a second interruption, and are obliged
to make a second division. The one takes to the
western side, and is scarce perceived, being soon lost
in the immensity of the Atlantic; but the other, which
passes into the Irish Sea, rejoices and feeds the inha-
bitants of most of the coasts that border on it.” In a
work on subjects of marine natural history, published
not more than a year ago, this account is substantially
repeated, and it is stated in addition that the different
columns are led by herrings of more than or dinary size.
Other writers have statetl that the annual visitations of
the herring are adjusted with the most scrupulous: pre-
cision to the character of the country along which they
pass, and that wherever the soil is meagre “and the cli-
mate severe, there they never fail to resort. -This is
going much farther than Mr. Pennant, who notices the
caprice which the herrings exercise with regard to, their
haunts. ‘The promulgation of these and similar erro-
neous notions is productive of mischief in varions ways.
The belief that a particular part of the coast was inva-
riably haunted by the herrings, excited hopes of com-:
mercial prosperity from the fishery, and led to the for-
mation of establishments which it was afterwards found
necessary to abandon, owing to the laws which direct
the arrival of the fish being so completely fluctuating.
Factitious views of the designs of Providence have been
taken, which, being founded on error, were liable to be
suddenly overthrown; whereas, within the bounds of
ascertained facts, there are to be found abundant mani-
festations of beneficent design, the evidence of which
rests upon a more secure foundation. The very uncer-
tainty which characterizes the herrings in the choice of
their haunts is attended with advantage, as it occasions
attention to be directed to agriculture and to other
means of subsistence than that which the ocean sup-
plies, and thus the chances of scarcity are lessened.
So far from the arctic seas being the great resort to
Which the herrings retire for the winter after having
deposited their spawn, it is nearly certain that they are
not in the habit of leaving the seas on the shores of
which they periodically appear. They leave the shore
for the deep sea, and the return of warm weather again
brings them around the coasts. The herring, it may
also be stated, is nearly unknown within the polar seas,
and has scarcely been observed by the navigators of
those regions; nor are they taken by the Greenlanders.
A small variety of the herring is sometimes found, and
is noticed by Sir John Franklin. The young are found
at the mouth of the Thames, and on the coasts of Essex
and Kent during the winter. The Dutch at one period
carried on the fishery in the deep sea at all seasons.
On the western coast of Scotland the fishery has some-
times terminated before that on the eastern coast has
commenced. It has sometimes commenced earlier in a
southern part of the coast than further north, and on
the western coast of the county Cork before any other
part of the United Kingdom. These facts are all ad-
verse to the accounts which have been given of a grand
movement in military order from the arctic seas. On
the east coast of Scotland the herrings often spawn at
a different period from those which resort to the western
coast, and at the same time their condition is quite dissi-
milar. Mr. Jesse, in his ‘ Gleaning’s in Natural History,’
states that the her rings of Cardigan Bay are much supe-
rior to those taken at Swansea. Dr. Macculloch* is of
opinion that this may arise ftom their obtaining more
abundant or different food. He states that in Scotland
* «The Highlands and Western Isles of Scotland,’ by John
Macculloch, M.D., F.RS-
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
uo migration takes place even between the two coasts,
and that when the herrings first appear on the western
coast it is not in shoals ; and instead of being taken by
the net they are taken by the line. Sir “Humphry
Davy has remarked as follows in his ‘ Salmonia:’—* It
has always appeared to me, that the two great sources
of change of places of animals, was the providing of
food for themselves, and resting-places and food for
their young. The-great supposed migrations of her-
rine’s from the poles to the temperate zone, have ap-
peared to me to be only the approach of successive shoals
from deep to shallow water, for the purpose of spawn-
ing.” ‘The presumption, therefore, is that the herring is
a permanent inhabitant of our seas, and that there are
different varieties of the species. Mr. Yarrell* says :—
"There are three species of herrings said to visit the
Baltic, and three seasons of roe and spawning. ‘The
stromling, or small spring herring, spawns when the
ice begins to melt; then a large summer herring; and
lastly, towards the middle of September, the autumn
herring makes its. appearance and deposits its spawn.”
The same naturalist has discovered what he believes to
be a second species of British herring: it is found heavy
with roe at the end of January, which it does not de-
posit till the middle of February. ‘The flavour is milder
than that of the common herring, but it is not so large,
its length being seven inches, and its depth two.
The frequent changes of theirehaunts by herrings have
been a fruitful source of speculation, though this fact is
adverse to the accounts which gave to their migration all
the recularity which would seem to belong to so well
organized an army. At one time they frequent a parti-
cular part of the coast for several years, and they after-
wards suddenly abandon it. The change is doubtless
occasioned by circumstances which it is ‘their nature to
obey. In the time of Charles I. the Long Island, one
of the western islands of Scotland, was a fav OUrite fesdM
of the herring, and buildings were erected for the pur-
pose of establishing a fishery, but it was abandoned in
consequence of the fish ceasing to frequent that part of
the coast. Dr. Macculloch, in his work on the °* High-
lands and Western Isles of Scotland,’ has introduced
some remarks which are too apt to be omitted in this
place. ‘* As vulgar philosophy (he says) is never satis-
fied unless it can find a cause for everything, this dis-
appearance of the herring has been attributed to the
manufacture of kelp. But kelp was not introduced for
very many years after the herrings had left the Long
Island, as well as many other coasts which they had
frequented. It is also a popular belief that naval
engagements, or even the firing of guns, cause them to
change their haunts. ‘Thus their desertion of Sweden
was attributed to the battle of Copenhagen ; and now,
when guns are at peace, the steam-boats are the ‘ suffi-
cient reason.’ The cne reason is as valid as the other.
It is a chance if there has been a gun fired in the West-
ern Islands since the days of Cromwell, and they have
shifted their quarters within that period many a time.
They have long left Loch Hourn, and Loch Torridon,
Where steam-boats never yet smoked; and since the
steam-boat has chosen to go to Inverary, they have also
thought fit to prefer Loch Fyne to all the western bays.
But theories like this have at least the merit of antiquity.
Long before the days of gunpowder, the ancient High-
landers thought that the fish deserted those coasts where
blood had been shed; so that the gun hypothesis is only
an old one revived, with the necessary modifications.”
Assuming that the herring approaches our shores
from the deep surrounding seas, and does not migrate
from the polar seas alone, “there are three different cir-
cumstances which may occasion its movements:—1. For
the purpose of spawning. 2. In pursuit of food. 3. ‘To
escape from enemies which prey upon them.
* * A History of British Fishes,’ by William Yarrell, F.L,S,
which it 1s kept;
(rpc NR
[Fesruary 4,
The herring spawns towards the end of October or
the beginning of November; and for the purpose of
vivification it is necessary that it should be deposited
in shallow water, where it may receive the heat of the
sun. ‘This instinctive movement is felt in the middle
of July, and they are thus brought within the reach of
man when they are in the highest perfection. They
are worthless as food after having deposited their spawn,
and the fishing season of course terminates. Mr. Yar-
rell is of opinion, from repeated examinations, that
the herringsile, or young herrings, do not mature any
roe during their first year; and hence they are not im-
pelled to retire to the deep sea, bnt haunt the coasts.
Lhe weight of spawn in the herring is 480 grains, and
the number of eves between 3000 and 4000. This
spawn has been thrown ashore in Orkney, found around
the Isle of Man and all along the western shores of
Scotland, and in the western lochs. <A greater degree
of observation would most probably prove that it is de-
posited around the British coasts generally, pinot
the coast of Scotland.
Fishermen have remarked that the herring was most
abundant where the meduse, and other marine ani-
mals which give the sea a luminous appearance, were
to be found. ‘The movements of herrings are doubtless
frequently determined by the time and place where food
is abundant. If it is not to be found in one spot it must
be sought for in another; and the apparent caprice
which they show in frequenting places at irregular
times and irregular intervals, is determined by a pro-
vident regard “to the abundance of food with which
those places are supplied.
Lastly, in endeavouring to escape from whales, gram-
puses, sharks, and other enemies, the movements of the
herring are the result of necessity ; and nothing seems
more unlikely than that they should, under such cir-
cumstances, display an instinctive attachment to parti-
cular places.
Having now fnrnished the principal facts connected
with the natural history of the herring, we shall in an-
other paper proceed to notice the mode in which it is
taken and cured for food
Page ah
FREE ADMISSION OF THE PUBLIC TO
MUSEUMS.
(extracted from a paper by Juhn Edward Gray, F.R.S., in © The
Analyst’ for January, 1837.)
‘“* Sravina lately in the nei@lbourhood of Newcastle-
upon-l'yne, I repeatedly visited the Museum of the
Natural History Society of that town, and I was much
pleased with the collection, and the admirable state in
but I was more especially eratitied
with the liberality of the subscribers in throwing the
museum open, withont the necessity of an introduction,
or any charge to their fellow-townsmen—a facility of
access scarcely to be expected, except in a national es-
tablishment like the British Museum. The museum of
this society was formerly opened to all classes in an
evening, when it was lichted up for the occasion ; but
the visiters who availed themselves of the privilege
were so numerous, that it was impossible for them to
inspect the collection with advantage. ‘I'he committee,
in consequence, was under the hiecessity of altering
their mode of admission ; and they now issue a certain
number of tickets each night, which are sent to the
workmen of the different factories in the neighbonr-
hood, in rotation, for the admission of the holder and
his family, or to such persons as make previous appli-
cation at the institution ; a plan which has been found
to give general satisfaction.
- The anniversary meeting occurred during my stay
in Newcastle, and it is char acteristic of the liberality of
the subscribers, that one of its members rose and in-
quired if the council had taken into consideration how
increased facilities could be given for the admission of
the public to the museum. ‘The collection of the Anti-
juarian Society (which contains many very interesting
speciinens of art, deposited in another part of the build-
ing) is, also, in a like manner, open gratutonsly to the
inspection of the public; and I sincerely wish this li-
berality was more generaily displayed in similar socie-
ties, as [ firmly believe that, if such a plan were
adopted, tt would have the effect of increasing the
funds of the institution, from the number of persons
who would take an interest in its prosperity; and the
subscribers would have the gratification of knowing
they were promoting the spread of knowledge, good
taste, and feeling, among their fellow townspeople.
This society, besides setting so good an example to
and scientific knowledge of many of its members, who
have published papers in their ‘Transactions’ which
may rank with productions on similar subjects in the
‘Transactions’ of our metropolitan societies.
** It was with the greatest pleasure that I heard it
stated in the Report of the Newcastle Society, that,
“notwithstanding articles of great value were exposed on
the cases without any cover, they had never lost a
single specimen, nor had any part of the collection
been injured by the visiters. This acconnt quite
agrees with my own experience in the British Museum,
where there have been occasionally more than six thou-
sand visiters in a single day. During the last twelve or
thirteen years I have been in that institution (and the
greater part of this time I have had the immediate su-
perintendence of the zoological part of the collection), I
do not recollect a single instance of wilful injury, and,
indeed, hardly of carelessness, on the part of the visiters,
though now and then a pane of glass may be cracked ;
but that is scarcely to be avoided from the frequently
crowded state of the rooms, with glass cases in every
direction. From my experience in the British Mu-
-seum, and in other situations, I think that the English
public have been most unjustly abused in this respect ;
partly arising from that delight which the English have
in complaining of their countrymen, and praising fo-
reieners at their expense, and partly by designing per-
‘sons, who have profited by places being kept from
public view, except on the payment of fees. For ex-
ample: I do not think (though the accusation has
been repeatedly made) that the English are more in-
fox to write on walls than our continental neigh-
bours, except that they have not the constant dread of
the surveillance of the police, which the French appear
always to have before their. eyes. In those places
where it can be done with little chance of detectton—as
in the passages of the Courts of Justice, in Paris—I
have seen the walls much disfigured by wrting in
charcoal instead of chalk; the French hand in which
they were written, and the names, at once showing it
was the work of natives.
“In other parts of the Continent, as in Switzerland,
where the inhabitants are not under the surveiléance of
the police, the walls are as much disfigured by writing
as in England, and I need only instance the chapel of
William ‘Yell. This remnant of barbarism, therefore,
which has been called by some ‘ English-taste, is not
peculiar to our country, and I am inclined to believe
that a great improvement in this respect is taking: place
amonest the English; indeed I have no doubt, as the
education of the people advances, it will rapidly disap-
‘pear. I feel assured that the best and most speedy
way to eradicate the evil will be to adopt, in the va-
ni local institutions, the liberal example of the Natu-
ral History Society of Newcastle, as the means best
calculated to impart a taste for the Aeauties. of tlic
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
other institutions, has distinguished itself by the energy |
44
creation among the people; and if the picture galleries,
churches, cathedrals, and other buildings containing
works of art in the country, were freely opened to their
inspection, 1t would have the effect of g@iving them a
taste for the fine arts. I think the exemplary behavi-
our of the visiters in the British Museum, and in the
museum of the Newcastle Society, fully justifies a
similar trial in other places.”
WOLF-CATCHING IN NORWAY.
In Norway, and perhaps in some other northern coun
tries, the following very simple contrivance is used for
the capture of the wolf:—In a circle of about six or
eioht feet in diameter, stakes are driven so close to each
other that a wolf cannot creep through, and which are
high enough to prevent his leaping over them. In the
midst of this circle a single stake is driven, to which a
lamb or a young kid is bound. Around this circle a
second is formed, of which the stakes are as close and
as high as the inner one, and at a distance not ereater
than will permit of a wolf to pass conveniently, but not
to allow of his turning round. In the outer circle a
door is formed, which opens inward, and rests against
the inner circle, but moves easily on its hinges, and
fastens itself on shutting. ‘Through this door the wolves
enter, sometimes 11 such a number as to fill the en-
closure. ‘The first wolf now paces the circle in order to
discover some opening through which he can get at the
lamb. When he‘comes to the back of the door which
is in his way, he pushes it with his muzzle, it closes and
fastens, he passes by, and eoes the round for the second
time, without being able either to enter the inner circle,
or to retreat from the outer. At length he perceives
that he is a prisoner, and his hideous howling announces
to those who have constructed the trap that he is taken,
who immediately come and dispatch him. It is said
that this sort of trap is also used for foxes, and even
occasionally for mice. :
ee
CURIOUS CEREMONY AT CAIRO.
Durine the Mohammedan festival to celebrate the
birth of the prophet, called at Cairo Moo'lid en-Neb'ee,
and which continues for ten days and nights, a very
curious exhibition takes place. Mr. Lane, in his ‘ Ac-
count of the Manners and Customs of the Modern
Egyptians,’ has given a minute detail of the whole of
the proceedings, and from this we extract the following
account of the remarkable ceremony to which we have
alluded :—
“The concourse, however, gradually increased ; for
a very remarkable spectacle was to be wituessed; a
sieht which, every year, on this day, attracts a multitude
of wondering beholders. ‘This is called the Do'seh, or
Treading. I shalt now describe it.
‘The sheykh of the Saadee’yeh durwee’shes (the seyd
Mohham‘mad El-Menzela'wee), who is khatee’b (or
preacher) of the mosque of the Elhasaney’n, after havy-
ing, as they say, passed a part of the last night in soli-
tude, repeating certain prayers and secret invocations
and passages from the Ckoor-a’n, repaired this day
(being Friday) to the mosque above mentioned, to
perform his accustomed duty. The noon-prayers and
preaching being concluded, he rode thence to the house
of the Sheykh E!-Bek’ree, who presides over all the
orders of durwee’shes in Egypt. This house is on the
southern side of the Birket El-Ezbekee’yeh, next to
that which stands at the south-western angle. On his
way from the mosque he was joined by numerous par-
ties of Sa/adee durwee’shes from different districts of
the metropolis: the members from each district bearing’
a pair of flags. The sheykh is an old, grcy-bearded.
4S
man, of an intelligent and amiable countenance, and
fair complexion. He wore this day a white ben’ish, and
a white cka’oo’ck (or padded cap, covered with cloth),
Saville a turban composed of muslin of a very deep
olive colour, scarcely to be distincuished from black,
with a strip of white muslin bound obliquely across
the front. The horse upon which he rode was one of
moderate height and w eicht ; my reason for mentioning
this wiil presenily be seen. The shevkh entered the
Bir'ket El-Ezbekee’veh preceded by a very numerous
procession of the durwee’shes, of whom he is the chief.
In the way through this place, the procession stopped
at a short distance before tlre house of the Sheykh El-
Bek'ree. Here a considerable number of the dur-
wee'shes and others (I am sure that there were more
then sixty, but I could not count their number) laid
themselves down upon the eround, side by side, as
close as possible to each other. having their backs up-
wards, their lees extended, and their arms placed toge-
ther beneath their foreheads. They incessantly mut-
tered the word Allah! About twelve or more dur-
wee’shes, most without their shoes, then ran over the
backs of their prostraie companions; some beating
ba’zex, or little drums, of a hemispherical form, held in
the left hand, and exclaiming Allah! and then the
shevkh approached : his horse hesitated, for several
minutes, to step upon the back of the first of the pros-
trate men: but being pulled, and urged on behind, he
at length stepped upon him: and then, without appa-
rent fear, ambled with a high pace over them all, led
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by two persons, who ran over the prostrate men, one |
sometimes treading on the feet, and the other on the
THE PENNY M
MAGAZINE. [Fesruary 4, 1937.
heads. The spectators immediately raised a long cry
of ** Al‘la‘h la’ Ja’ la’ Ja’ la’‘h!” Not one of the men
thus trampled upon by the horse seemed to be hurt;
but each, the moment that the animal had passed over
him, jumped up, and followed the sheykh. Each of
them received two treads from the horse; one from one
of his fore-legs and a second from a hind- ler. Itis said
that these persons, as well as the sheykh, make use of
certain words (that is, repeat prayers and invocations)
on the day preceding this performance, to enable them
to endure without injury the tread of the horse; and
that some not thus prepared, having the temerity to lie
down to be rode over, have, on more than one occasion,
been either killed or sev erely injured. The performance
is considered as a miracle effected through supernatu-
ral power which has been granted to every successive
sheykh of the Saadee’yeh. * Some persons assert that
the horse is unshod for the occasion; but I thought I
could perceive that this was not the case. They sav
also that the animal is trained for the purpose ; but, if
so, this would only account for the least surprising of
the circumstances; I mean, for the fact of on horse
being made to tread on human beings 5 an act
which it is well known that animal is very rse
present sheykh of the Saadee’yeh refused, for severa
a to perform the Do’seh. By much entreaty |
as prevailed upon to empower ar pene person ft S
“rs This person, a blind man, did it s successful v3
soon after died; and the sheykh of i Saadee yeh
vielded to the request of his durwee’shes ; and has si
always performed the Do’seh himself.” |
At a subsequent festival, that of the Meara’g, or the
night of the Prophet's miraculous ascension to heaver
this exhibition was repeated.
‘The foremost persons, chiefly his own durwee’s
apparently considerably more than a hundred (but 1
found it impossible to count them) were laid down in
the street, as close as possible together, in the same
manner as at the Moolid en-Nebee. They incessantly
repeated ‘ Al'lah!’ A number of durwee’shes, on
with their shoes off, ran over them; several beating
their little drums; some carrying ‘the black flags alia the
order of the Rifa”ees (the parent-c t_order of the Sa’adees) ;
and two carrving a sha'lee’sh (a pole about twenty feet
in leneth, like a large flag-staff, the chief rier cee
the Saadee’veh, with a large conical ornament of brass
on the top): then came the sheykh, on the same arey
horse that he rode at the Moo’lid en-Neb’ee: he was
dressed in a light blue pelisse, lined with ermine, and
wore a black, or almost black, moock'leh; which isa
larvre, formal turban, peculiar to persons of eligious
and learned professions. He rode over the prostrate
men, mumbling all the while; two persons led his horse;
and they, also, trod upon the prostrate men ; sometimes
on the legs, and on the heads. Once the horse pranced
and curvetted, and nearly trod upon several heads; he
passed over the men with a high and hard pace. ‘The
sheykh entered the house of the Shevkh El-Bek'ree,
before mentioned, adjoining the mosque. None of the
men who were rode over appeared to be hurt, and
many got up laughing; but one appeared to be mel-
boo’s, or overcome by ehcitemmnhe and, though he did
not put his hand to his back, as if injured by ‘the tread
of the horse, seemed near fainting, and tears rolled
cown his ire: it is possible, however, that this man
| was hurt by the horse, and that he endeavoured to con-
ceal the cause.”
* «Tt is said that the second shevkh of the Saadee’vch (the
immediate successor of the founder of the order) rode over hears —
of glass bottles without breaking any of them !”
#.* The Office of the Society for the Diffcsion of Useful a is at
53, Liscola’s Ina Fields.
LONDON: CHARLES KNIGHT & CO., 22, LUDGATE STREET,
Printed by Wittiax Crowes and Sons, Stamford Street.
ee
E PENNY MAGAZINE
- OF THER
’ society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge.
312.7
PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. [Fesruary 11, 1837.
A LOOKING.-GLASS FOR LONDON,.—No. II.
ADMINISTRATION OF JUSTICE.
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{rt is a maxim of the common law, that an accused
person is to be held innocent until he be proved to be
‘guilty. Such a maxim, carried out to its full extent,
supposes that no punishment, not even personal re-
straint, is to be inflicted before trial. But, as society
is constituted, we cannot suppose a state in which all
accused persons would voluntarily appear when called
upon to abide the result of a judicial investigation ; for
such a perfection of honest simplicity is inconsistent
with the existence of crime. Our ancestors, however,
endeavoured to reconcile the maxim of the law with its
practice; hence the origin of dail, The word, like
bailiff, which has the same origin, comes from the
French, and expresses the idea of a keeper, a super-
intendent, a charge-taker; a sheriff is, in legal phra-
seology, the king’s bailiff, and his county is his baili-
wick. One of the titles of the chief magistrate of
London, before that of mayor was finally adopted, was
bailiff. Anciently, no matter what crime a person miglit
be agcused of, he enjoyed the privilege of bail. He
was delivered into the charge of his sureties, who were
pledged to produce him at the proper time. But many
alterations were made by statute in the conditions of | to have been made a place of custody,
the privilege. Murder was excepted—then treason—
and other felonies, until it became the practice to take
bail only for more venial offences, the Court of King’s
Bench alone having the power to admit to bail for
serious crimes. A recent act of Parliament (the 7th
Georve IV., c. 64) has returned somewhat to the an-
Vou. VI. 7
(The Old Bailey—Sheriffs going to the Court. ]
cient practice, by enlarging the positive and discre-
tionary power of magistrates in the matter of admitting
to bail.
Let us suppose a person apprehended by the police
for a crime alleged to have been committed in London,
and carried before the magistrates of one of the metro-
politan police-offices. These police magistrates can
punish summarily, by inflicting a fine or a short impri-
sonment; they may remand the prisoner for further
inquiry, or they may admit to bail. In our supposed
case, the evidence appears to the magistrates sufficient
to warrant the sending of the case before a superior
tribunal; the prisoner cannot procure bail, or the ma-
vistrates refuse to take it; he is committed to Newgate,
and the witnesses are bound over to give their testi-
mony on the trial.
The street called the Old Bailey strikes off from
Ludgate Hill, and terminates at the intersection of
Newgate Street and Skinner Street. The continua-
tion of the Old Bailey is called Giltspur Street, which
leads into Smithfield. The city wall ran along here
from Lud Gate to New Gate. The New Gate appears
at least as early
as the beginning of the thirteenth century ; and the
name has been applied to every suecessive structure
that has occupied the site.
About the middle of the Old Bailey Street com-
mences the extensive range of buildings which. form
the courts of justice and the prison. ‘The prison, a
50,
massive and frowning structure, occupies the end of
the Old Bailey, and turns up Newgate Street. The
present building was erected in the place of a previous
one which had been rebuilt after the Great Fire of
London, and had been found totally inadequate to
its purposes. Even in times when there scarcely
existed a distinct idea on the nature of prison economy
(which shows what it must have been), the corporation
of the city applied to government for assistance to re-
build the prison; a sum of money was granted, and
the foundation-stone of the new building was laid by
the celebrated Lord Mayor Beckford—the father of the
author of ‘ Vathek,’ the builder of Fonthill Abbey,—
in the year 1770; but it was burned in the dreadful
riots of 1780, the mob liberating the prisoners, and
carrying off the keys in triumph. The assistance of
voverninent was again afforded, and the present build-
ing completed.
Newgate has a wide-spread notoriety, not merely as
the head-gaol of London, and from the remarkable
names and deeds associated with it, but from the la-
bours of philanthropists. It has lain in the heart
of this great city like some foul and undrained marsh,
into which all the waters of corruption were poured. It
has ever been a fertile nursery of crime. From within
its walls physical as well as moral contagion has issned,
and spread disease in most noxious and areravated
forins. The gaol-distemper has more than once struck
down the functionaries who appeared at the Old Bailey
Sessions, as well as the prisoners themselves. New-
wate now is a palace to what Newgate was: yet Mr.
Crawford, in his official ‘Report on Penitentiaries
(1834), says, it is “a prolific source of corruption,—a
digorace to the metropolis, and a national reproach.”
Amongst all who have laboured to alleviate the
miseries of Newgate, the honoured name of Mrs. Fry
must not be overlooked. To give a propet idea of the
state of the prison when she began her labours would
require statements unfit for our pages: but the follow-
ing extract from Mrs. Fry’s evidence before a Com-
mittee of the House of Commons, in 1818, will give the
reader a faint notion of the moral courage and patience
which this excellent woman must have possessed to
enable her to pursue-her self-chosen avocation :-—
‘“ About what time was it when you first visited
Neweate, and established a committee of ladies to visit
the female prisoners ?—It is rather more than a year
since I first established a school for the children of the
convicts; I did not undertake the care of the convicts
till about two months afterwards—their children tirst
attracted iny attention.
‘“ Have the goodness to relate what you did with re-
card to the children.—In visiting the prison, which I
liad been occasionally in the habit of doing for several
years, I very much lamented to see children so much
exposed among those very wicked women, and | under-
stood that the first language they lisped was generally
oaths or very bad expressions ; it therefore struck me
how important it would be to separate them from the
convicts, and to have them put in a small apartment by
themselves under the care of a schoolmistress, provided
it met with the approbation of the women themselves, for
I always approved acting in concert with them in what-
ever I did; I represented my views to the mothers, and
they with tears in their eyes said, ‘ Oh, how thankful
we would be for it!’ for they knew so much the miseries
of vice, that they hoped their children would never be
trained np in it. * * * It was in our first visits to the
school, where we some of us attended almost every day,
that we were witnesses to the dreadful proceedings
that went forward on the female side of the prison-—the
begging, swearing, gaming, fighting, siuging, dancing
-—the scenes are too bad to be described, so that we did
not think it suitable to admit young persons with us.”
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
[FEBRUARY il,
“ As a proof of the want of classification,” Mrs. Fry
says, in another portion of her evidence, ‘‘ women who
came in weeping over their deviations, some smal! de-
viations perhaps, by the time of their trial or dismissal
would sometimes become so barefaced and wicked as
to laugh at the very same things, and to be fitted for
almost any crime. I understand that before we went
into the prison it was considered a reproach to he a
modest woman.”
We have already said that the prison is a very dif-
ferent place from what it was ;—let us, therefore,
venture in. We shall find the officers, from the
governor downwards, civil, attentive, and obliging.
Ascending a few steps, and expressing @ wish to’ see
the boys’ ward, we are conducted through a dark laby-
rinthine passage, and on mounting a stair, the merry
Shouts that we hear seem to proceed from the play-
erouud of a school. Here are two rooms—one the
school-room by day and sleeping-room by night, the
other the day-room. In the latter, about fifteen or six-
teen boys are tumbling about at play. A well-known
voice calls out ‘* Stand around!” but the quick eyes of
the youngsters tell them that the strangers are not
official visiters; and they therefore come forward, bob-
bing their heads, or rather pulling then down by the
front-locks, and boisterously elbowing each other as
they fall into line. An alinost indistinct murmur, how-
ever, lets them know the extent of their discretion, and
they stand quiet. ‘‘ That boy,” pointing toa child of
about ten or eleven years of age, “ is under sentence of
death!” In a moment, the little creature feels him-
self the object of greatest importance in the group, and
his look evinces it.
Alderman Harmer, in his evidence before the Com-
missioners on Criminal Law, given in 1835,-says, ** A
boy gets ‘interinixed with a few of his little loose
acquaintances, and is tempted or urged by them to
commit a petty theft, which he had not previously con-
templated; he is committed to Newgate to take his
trial, which, instead of its having any effect to deter
him in future from crime, is a source of amusement to
him. The novelty of everything about him pleases
rather than afflicts him: on entering the prison, he
sees no misery or melaucholy, such as he had antiti-
pated, but all are playful and merry, and tlie dread, if
he had any, of the trial is dissipated the moment he
enters into court. To find the judges and the officers
in their costume,—that he has the power to challenge
the jury,—that all the forms and ceremonies of a trial are
on his account,—and that he is the hero of the piece,—
tends rather to gratify his vanity than to intimidate
him. He hears that he is the object of commiseration
by the audience saying, ‘ What a pity it is that such a
child should be brought here !* And whatever may be
the result of the trial, what is the consequence of his
committal ?—he is, perhaps, intermixed with a captain
of some of the little gangs in Newgate ;—he hears him
recount his hair-breadth escapes, and sees how he is
laughed at and admired for his conduct amongst his
associates,—and it is an encouragement to hiin to
imitate the conduct he has heard extolled.
‘© Does the course taken with young offenders ope-
rate as a punishment sufficient in its nature to deter
them from crime?—Certainly not; a boy affects to cry
at the bar, and his mother or some relation will cry
with him, and the judge gives him a little lecture and
sends him home; or sometimes they inflict a whipping,
but that is made a matter of laugh among these young
rascals after becoming inured to a gaol. - sme:
I think, if the boy is under twelve years of awe, when
the mind is hardly formed, it is too much to send him
for trial at the Old Bailey, and thus, whether found |
guilty or not, consign him to infamy for life.” |
Let us pass now from the boys’ ward to that of the |
OO ——
1837.
men’s. Here they are lounging about the day-room ;
but at the command of “Stand around!” they fall into
line for inssection with a quieter promptness than did
the boys—one or two with a sullen scowl, some with
an easy indifference, others with a half-kind of smile,
as if not so much accustomed to the discipline. They
are mostly young men, from sixteen years of age to
twenty-five. The ereater part of these individuals have
probably come through the first part of their appren-
ticeship in crime, and are now rising into ‘life with
seared hearts, depraved and almost irreclaimable habits,
and their intellectual powers exercised in nothing but
the dexterity and ‘meanness of theft.
Where are the little receptacles technically termed
the condemned cells? Fearfully narrow and dark are
they, with a small grated aperture in each, receiving
light from the court in which the criminals are permitted
to walk during the day. ‘The prisoners against whom
sentence of death is recorded sleep on a mat in these
cells during the night.. There are no criminals here at
present, for alterations are going on: the paved court
is being divided into two by a brick wall thrown across,
and an iron palisade guards the top of this lofty wall.
This has been done to prevent any more of such escapes
as that of tlie chimney-sweep, whose case excited some
time ago considerable attention. With the dexterity of
his profession, he sealed a wall which, at first sieht,
seems scarcely to afford footing for a rat to scranible
up. But his escape availed him little,—poor wretch—
he could not get qut of the meshes which a life of guilt
had woven around him; and he is again in the hands
of justice for a fresh crime. |
The plan of Newgate is quadrangular. The untried
prisoners are kept separate from the tried, and the
young from the old. It was built originally without
sleeping cells for separate confinement, except the con-
demned cells ; the number of night rooms is 33, in each
of which there are at night from 15 to 30 persons; the
nuinber of day rooms, or wards, is 10; 129 sleeping
cells might be got by dividing these large rooms, but
462 additional cells would still be wanting, for which
the prison affords no space.
The next paper will contain an account of the Central
Criminal Court, a view of the forms of a trial, and a
brief notice of the other London gaols.
————
——
—
when the fish are in the highest perfection.
BRITISH FISHERIES.—No. IT.
Mode of taking and curing Herrings.—The herring-
fishery is only carried on during the spawning season,
The Yar-
mouth herring-fishery commences about the middle of
September, but the season varies at different parts of
the coast. On the coast of Sutherland the early her-
rine-fishery commences in June; the late fishery about
the middle of July, and continues until September.
On the coast of Cromarty large shoals appear as early
as the month of May. ‘The great object is to obtain a
supply for the purpose of curing, although, in the early
part of the season, large numbers of fresh herrings are
brought to the London market from Yarmouth; and
the consumption at Norwich and other places, which
are not at a great distance from the coast, is also con-
siderable. ‘The fish are sometimes so rich in the early
part of the season as to be unfit for curing, and on this
account they are broucht into the market for immediate
consumption. ‘The spawning season being over by the
end of October or the beginning of November the fish-
ing terminates, as the herrings are then in a poor and
exhausted condition.
The size of the boat used in the herring-fishery de-
pends upon the distance from the shore at which the
fishery is intended to be carried on, and also as to
whether the intention be to cure red herrings or white
herrings, As red herrings must be cured on shore, |
=
me
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
51
while white herrings require only to be salted and put
into barrels, those who are engaged in the red herring
trade find it convenient to keep within a certain dis-
tance of the coast. ‘The white herrings may be cured
on board the vessel; and as the fishermen may.go out
to sea wherever the fish are to be found, this is called
a deep-sea fishery, and of course a vessel of a larger
description is required than when the cargo has to be
taken as speedily as possible to the drying-house. The
business at Yarmouth is entirely in red herrings, which
are in the greatest demand for the home market, while
the export trade, carried on at other ports, chiefly
consists of white herrings. ‘The same men are in
general acquainted with each mode of curiig. ‘The
vessels fitted out for the deep-sea fishery meet with
the earliest and best herrings; and, owing to the
manner in which herrings desert parts of the coast
which they have been accustomed to frequent, it is a
more permanent source of profit than the boat fishery,
though it requires a larger capital. The vessels must
contain sufficient room in the hold for the stowage of
salt, nets, barrels, and provisions. They lie low in the
water, and the sides are furnished with roliers and lee-
boards to facilitate the drawing in of the nets. The
Dutch, who pursued the deep-sea fishery, and once
carried it on with great spirit and success, were usually
provided with a double set of nets for fear of accident ;
as their distance from port would have rendered the
loss or destruction of oe set a matter of serious conse-
quence, and the hopes of a whole season might have
been lost. The Yarmouth boats are generally of about
fifty tons burden, and manned with. eleven or twelve
men, of whom one-fourth are usually landsmen. In
addition, there are two landsmen who are employed in
ferrying to and from the decked vessel, and in curing
the herrings on shore. ‘The fishing places are from fif-
teen to thirty miles north of Yarmouth, from thirty to
forty-five miles to the eastward, and the boats go south-
ward as far as the mouth of the Thames and the South
Foreland. ‘The depth of water in which the fishery is
carried on is from fifteen to twenty fathoms. ‘The
Yarmouth fishing-vessels are fitted out at a cost of
about 1000/. each. Each of them is furnished with
from 180 to 200 nets, which cost between 300/. and
400/.; and with six ropes, each 120 fathoms in length,
weighing separately from 4 cwt. to 44 cwt., and of the
total value of 502. or 60/. These nets and ropes re-
quire to be renewed nearly every fourth year, owing to
the destructive effects of the sea and the ravages of
dog-fish, which, in preying upon the herrings when
they are inclosed within the nets, injure the nets them-
selves, :_ ” é
The description of vessel fitted out for the herring-
fishery on the eastern and western coasts of Scotland
is called a “ buss,” of from fifty to eighty tons burden,
cutter-built. ‘They ply from loch to loch in pursuit
of the herrings, and come to anchor in the nearest
harbour when the fish appear. A man or two is left
on board the buss to take charge of her, and the rest
70 out in the boats, each manned with four hands, for
the purpose of setting the nets. Each boat has two
trains of nets, 230 or 240 yards long, and from eleven
to twelve yards deep. In deep water both trains are
tied together by the back-rope, one end to windward
and the other to leeward. ‘The boats are fastened at
each end and allowed to drive to leeward with the nets.
Every half-hour, or oftener, the men endeavour to
ascertain if there are any herrings in the net. This
they do by following along the line of the back-rope,
and here and there raising a piece of netting. By this
means they not only find when they are upon good
fishing-ground, but learn whether the herrings swim
hieh or low, and they raise or sink the nets accordingly,
by shortening or lengthening the buoys by which the
nets are kept up, Sometimes they traverse ten o
52
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twenty miles in a night, setting their nets ten or twelve | not rich. enough to possess an entire boat join with
times in different places. ‘The fishing is never carried
on but in the night, and the darkest nights, accom-
panied by a slight breeze, are the most propitious. In
the morning, at daylight, the fishermen take their
cargo to their respective bussés. When the herrings
are in great numbers, their labours are comparatively
licht. ‘The nets are set in the evening, a small anchor
is fixed to each end of the train, and they are not hauled
or raised until morning, In this case'the trains are
not joined towether, but are set separately, and near the
buss, on board of which the men sleep. ‘The crews of
the busses are engaged by the month, and a great pro-
portion of them are landsmen, pursuing other labours
when the fishing season is over. Each man receives,
in addition to his wages, a certain quantity of herrings,
when the season is a eood one, and a smaller proportion
when it 1s unfavourable. :
Fast-sailing smacks, cutters, or sloops, of from thirty
to eighty tons burden, are sometimes despatched to
the fishing-stations, not for the purpose of engaging’ di-
rectly in the fishery, but to purchase herrings in a fresh
state of the country or boat-fishermen. ‘They are im-
mediately sprinkled with salt, and when a cargo is
completed, these vessels return home, or to some fish-
ing-station on the coast, where the herrings are cured.
The boat-fishery at the Isle of Man was in a very
flourishing state about fifty years ago. About 400
boats, of from five to twenty tons each, manned with
from four to eight men, and each boat having eight or
twelve nets, were fitted out from the Bay of Douglas,
The boat-fishing is often very successful when the fish-
ing-ground is not at a great distance from the shore.
It may be carried on with little capital, the process of
curing, which requires expensive establishments, and a
considerable outlay for wages being undertaken by the
Owners of the vessels, who purchase the fish as it is
taken. In the {sland of Lewis, one of the western
islands of Scotland, every hamlet, and even farm, has
its fishing-boat. ‘The year is divided between farming,
fishing, and the manufacture of kelp. Those who are |
others in the same condition, and become the joint pro-.
prietors of one. Every species of boat which is sea-
worthy is afloat; and at sunset hundreds of boats
depart and set their nets, returning in the morning to
dispose of their cargoes. The arrangement which has
been spoken of is highly advantageous to this class of
fishermen, as there are no markets to which the fish
could be taken for immediate consumption; and with-
out the intervention of a class of men possessing capital,
the pursuit would be much less profitable. One dis-
advantage which attends the boat-fishery arises from
the frequent changes which take place in the appearance
of the herrings, as these boats cannot follow the fish
into the deep-sea. The fishermen on the deserted
coasts, in consequence of expensive and ill-remunerated
exertions, sink into poverty. This evil can only be
remedied by the introduction of capital, which would
enable the fishermen to fit out a larger description of
boats, and to follow the fish, which, though they desert
the coast, are to be found in the adjacent sea. Instead
of being partly agriculturists, kelp-makers, and fisher-
men, none of which pursuits are carried on with the
success with which they might be if separately pursued,
they would be able to devote their whole labour and
skill to one department of industry ; and, obtaining the
means of purchasing agricultural produce, two distinct
branches of industry would be supported, each of which
would tend to enrich the other, as improvernents would
be introduced into each by their respective followers,
and they would be carried on under the most advan-
tageous circumstances. At present, these fishing-hoats
are generally manned with from two to four men.
They are about sixteen feet in length, and rigged with
a single lug-sail: they cost about 36/7. The meshes
of the nets are restricted by law to a square inch. This
regulation is complained of as preventing the capture of
fish of a serviceable size, while herrings full of milt and
roe are taken in abundance. Some fish is cured by the
fishermen themselves, but the greater. quantity is sold
in a fresh state, chiefly to purchasers from the Clyde, |: |
1837.)
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When herrings are taken in moderate, yet regular
quantities, they are immediately taken from the boats
into the vessel, and pnt into barrels as expeditiously
as possible, being previously salted. When they are
taken in large numbers, they are conveyed to the shore,
where the same operation is performed under a covering
or shade, as the warmth of the sun’s rays would injure
the fish. Many small villages called fishing-stations
have been built on the coast of Scotland, consisting of
warehouses for salt, for nets and tackle, and for cured
fish, with cottages for the curers. Bay-salt is used, as
it does not dissolve too quickly, but furnishes a supply
of brine gradually. The Dutch were celebrated for
preparing’ a salt for pickling herrings. They evapo-
rated the brine made from the solution of bay-salt with
a centile fire, having mixed with the brine a quantity
of sour whey. - About the middle of last century the
Society for the Promotion of the British Fisheries
brought over some Dutchmen to teach the fishermen
and curers in the North of Scotland and of Shetland
the Dutch mode of curing herrings, and they remained
two seasons. It was found that the difference between
the Dutch and British mode was very trifling ; and at
present it is believed that the latter fully equals the
former. ‘The herrings which are not salted and barrelled
the day they are caught are never so good as when
this operation is iminediately attended to. ‘The Yar-
mouth boats continue at sea until they have caught
eight or ten lasts, of 13,000 herrings to a fast, or are
compelled to come to shore for provisions. ‘They are
generally absent from three to six days. ‘The white or
pickled: herrings merely require to be salted and put
tuto barrels, which is done while the vessel is at sea,
but when it is intended to prepare red herrings a dif-
ferent process is adopted. The herrings are sprinkled
with salt, in quantities which depend upon the state of
the weather, or the distance from port. > About one-third
of a ton is used to each last of herrings. On being
landed they are immediately carted or carried away in
baskets to the “ rousing-house,” adjoining the house
where they are intended to be hung and smoked. They
are then again sprinkled with salt, and are heaped
together with wooden shovels, on a floor covered with
bricks or flag-stones, in which state they remain fiye or
LHE PENNY MAGAZINE.
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six days, and they are then washed, spitted, hung up
and fired. In spitting, as well as in hanging: up, great
care is necessary to prevent the herrings touching each
other. The spits are round rods made of fir, about
four feet Jong, pointed a little atone end. The herrings
are hung on these rods by the mouth and gills. The
spits, when so full of herrings that no more can be put
upon them without causing the herrings to touch ‘each
other, are handed to persons who place them reeularly
tier above tier on wooden fixtures, supported by joists,
until the house is full. The distance from the tails of
the lower tier of herrings to the floor is about seven
feet. Fires of wood are then lighted, and the great
artis to manage these fires in a proper manner. ‘They
must neither be .too quick nor too slow, and at times
they must be extinguished. Green wood is commonly
used, and as a Jarge quantity is required the expense is
considerable. Oak and beech are considered to com-
municate the best colour and flavour; but other wood,
such as ash, birch, and elm are nsed with beech and
oak. The wood of fruit-trees, of fir, or the timber of
old ships could not be employed without the herrings
acquiring a bitter taste. The operation of smoking
red herrings occupies at least three weeks for those
which are intended for home consumption, as they
are preferred when soft and not too highly dried ;
but those for exportation undergo the process for four
weeks or thirty days. The fires are then extinguished,
and after the house has been allowed to cool, the spits
are taken down, and in a few days afterwards the
herrings are put into barrels. The barrels are made of
fir, and sometiines of oak and other hard wood.
When the season has been abundant, some attention
is paid by the curers to dividing the herrings of different
qualities into distinct lots. Others do this when they
are taken from the spit. They are usually distributed
into four classes; the large, full-grown, and well-made
herrings form the first quality, aud are known under
the name of ‘bloaters.” After these are removed the
best of those which are left constitute the second class,
Those which are broken in the belly, or wili not take
the salt upon the spit, but turn white, are the third
description ; and the fourth consists of those which are
headless, or which.will not hang by the gills, but are
b4 THE PENNY
hung by the tail, or any other part of the fish, upon
teuter-hooks. About 74 per cent. of the herrings in-
tended to be reddened prove unfit for the process: two-
thirds of these are cured as white-herrings, and the
remainder are thrown away. A red-herring-house is
usually divided into five parts, and the cost of erection
is between 20001. and 30001.
In packing red-herrings into barrels, a person 1s
engaged in connting and (where done at this stage)
in sorting the herrings. Where this has been done
before spitting, the packer is attended only by one
person, who draws six or eight herrings together on
the spit. The packer takes these off with both his
hands, and places them all at once on their backs
in tiers round the bottom of the barrel, the heads close
to the side staves, the tails meeting in the centre of thie
cask. When these tiers rise above the ends of the zide
staves the herrings are pressed down, and the upper
layer is put on with the backs of the herrings upper-
most. On being left in this state for a day they fall
down so as to admit of the barrel being headed. Uuless
proper attention be paid to the packing, the head of the
cask will sink three or four mehes below the upper
edge. The gills having been perforated by the spit are
distended, and the fins are dry and stiff, but when they
begin to moisten they turn soft again, the gills close. up
as before, and the herrings hie in a smaller compass
than when they were first packed.
‘he commercial history of the herriug-fishery, a
sketch of which will be given in another paper, supplies
one or two useful lessons in public economy, and pre-
sents a striking contrast to the views which are now
entertained concerning this branch of national industry.
Dace in f
WARMING AND VENTILATING INFIRMARIES,
WORKHOUSES, FACTORIES, AND DOMESTIC
APARTMENTS.
(Abridged from a Report made by Dr. Arnott to the Poor Law
Commissioners *.)
‘sat human beings of sound constitution may have
life and health to the full period of human existence,
four things are required—viz., fit air, warmth, aliment
and exercise of body and mind.
Ventilation.—A human being destroys or poisons the
oxygen of nearly a gallon of air per minute, which
quantity, by mixing with more, contaminates and nnfits
for use at least three times as much; and in any case,
unless ventilation to that extent, and in proportion to
the number of persons present, be provided for, the air
is soon in a state which will seriouswy affect the health
of those living in it.
The history of the prison, since called the Black
Hole, at Calcutta, furnishes a shocking example in
iustration of this, in which, of 146 military men con-
fined for a few hours without ventilation, only twenty-
three survived the short confinement. The distress,
often followed by serious illness, which many people
feel in crowded and unventilated churches, courts of
justice, theatres, and other meeting-places, furnishes
other examples; and but that the meetings are usually
of short duration, and that persons when they feel
about to faint escape from them, and thereby warn
those remaining to open windows and doors, fatal oc-
currences even in those situations would not be unfre-
quent. Where the invisible poison is less concentrated,
but of longer continued operation, as formerly in crowded
and ill-ventilated ships and prisons, fevers of the worst
description are the consequence, called @aol and ship
fevers; and where this poison exists in a still weaker
degree, as not long ago in many of our inanufactories,
milliners’ work-roems, &¢., the health of the inmates
was gradually destroyed, while the true cause remained
* Dr. Arnott’s Report is given in the ‘Second Annual Report
of the Poor Law Commissioners’ ( Appendix C).
MAGAZINE. (Fesruary 11,
unsuspected. And within a few years, since the esta-
blishment of infant schools, there have been instances
of the children being collected at first in small rooms,
where no fit provision had been made for ventilation,
and where sickness broke out among them from thie
same cause.
Not long ago, the people working in cotton and
other factories were observed generally soon to be-
come pallid and sickly, and then scrofulous in various
degrees, and many of them at last to sink into early
oraves; and this happened chiefly because they and
their employers were ignorant of the fatal influence on
their health of spending so much of their time in close
apartinents, of which the ventilation was either left to
chance, or was even stndiously prevented to preserve
the warmth useful for the process of manufacturing.
These work-people were crowded together, constantly
breathing a polluted, noxions air, nearly as noxious to
them as to the trouts of a‘mountain stream is the water
of a stagnant pool. Recently, however, wheels or
fanners for ventilating have been introduced into many
of the factories, by which the air’is drawn out or
changed with any desired rapidity, while fresh air, arti-
ficially warmed, is admitted in its stead; and now, in
places where these means have been adopted, the fac-
a
tory operatives, being further supplied with good food, /
and not over-worked, have become, as proved by late/
evidence, a most healthy portion of the working com-
munity.
In many crowded schools, hospitals, &¢., ventilation
has been sought by openings made through the wall
near the ceiling, as directly into the air as when panes
of glass are broken, with sliding doors to close them °
when desired.
Now this means is far from insuring
the object.
In winter, when the fires are burning,
| these openings, instead of being channels of escape for
impure air, become entrances for cold air, which pours
down upon those sitting near them; and, reaching the
floor, chills the feet of the others as it runs along to »
Persons sitting .
supply the draught of the chimneys.
under or near these openings being likely to catch se-
vere colds or inflammations, generally, when they can,
close them to obtain security. It is in winter chiefly
that the mischiefs now spoken of from imperfect venti- °
lation are likely to arise, for in warmer weather win-
dows may be freely opened, although with some hazard
to those sitting near them.
Now to effect perfect ventilation in any case with
absolute certainty is a problem not difficult to solve, if
existing knowledge be brought to bear upon it. The
ventilation of our apartments in dwelling-houses by the ~
draught of the chimney is very faulty, for it takes away
rather the pure air which is under the level of the
chimney-piece, than the inpure breath which has as-
cended from onr lungs to the ceiling, and which must
again come down before it go out; but as the space is
usually great in proportion to the number of persons -
present, except on occasions of crowded parties, no ins
convenience is felt. It was in cotton factories, where
steam-engines exist to do any desired work, and where —
everybody is familiar with machinery, that perfect ven-
tilation by mechanical means was first thought of and
executed, and the result has been beneficial as stated.
For the ventilation of factories, a wheel, on the prin-
ciple of the fanner used in barns, is placed at an open-
ing communicating with the spacé to be ventilated, and
being turned with any desired rapidity, extracts air to
the required extent. A smaller wheel of the same kind
for small apartments might be worked by a weight, as
the common kitchen-jack; or, instead of a wheel, a
pump, or vibrating gasometer; cylinders might be used,
ov any other of the contrivances which engineers know
or would suggest. An apparatus with a branching
tube or channel might be made to draw the air with
any speed from every room in a buildine ,
&
:
1837.]
Warmth.—In winter, persons sitting without exer-
tion, and clothed as is usual in Eneland, require a tem-
perature of from 60° to 65° to be comfortably warm,
and their feeling of comfort is a measure of their secu-
rity from the diseases produced by cold. Now, by an
open fire, it is impossible to give such temperature to
the whole of a large room, a truth illustrated by the
fact of persons, when allowed, generally placing them-
selves in a circle round the fire, beyond which they
would be too cold, and within which they would be too
hot; and when in a large room with an open fire there
is a numerous company tolerably warm, they are gene-
rally maintaining their temperature in great part by
their own impnre breath. ‘The frequency of chilblains
amone children at school, where many of them have to
sit for considerable portions of time in the same room,
and all therefore cannot equally share the influence of
the open fire, is evidence in point, that ailment being a
consequence of the feet having been chilled, because
not sufficiently clothed to defend them when either too
far from the fire, or placed in a stratum of cold air
moving along the floor to feed the open fire. ‘The heat
-afforded by a close iron stove, such as is used in Ger-
many and Russia, is more uniform than that of an
open fire, and is not attended by the draughts, &c.,
accompanying the latter; but is objectionable from
the very offensive and often pernicious state of the
air, produced by contact with the over-heated iron.
In Eneland, where large rooms, like those of cotton
factories, occupied by many people, have been wel}
warmed, the means have been pipes of hot water or
steam spreading in the apartment to warm the whole
equally, while the fresh air for ventilation is heated as
it enters by coming into contact with these pipes. ‘To
common understanding it must be evident that air
admitted to a crowded room to supply the rapid venti-
lation should be nearly of the warmth existing in the
room, otherwise there is likely to be dangerous ccld
draughts blowing on some of the inmates, or at least
there may be very unequal warming of the room.
Of the modes of warming now in common use, that
by pipes of hot water or steam, as seen in the Hanwell
Lunatic Asylum, and many other extensive buildings,
is the only one snitable for rooms of large dimensions.
In rooms where tle mechanical mode of ventilation
already described, and now common in factories, has
been adopted, an addition might be made to the appa-
ratus for extricate the impure air, which would drive
fresh air in, and which by causing the two currents to
pass each other in contact for a certain distance in very
thin metallic tubes, would cause the fresh air entering
to absorb nearly the whole heat from the impure air
going out, and would thus render it at once both pure
and warm air; and would consequently save, after the
room was once warmed, aiiy further expense of fuel for
the day, and would avoid, how rapid soever the venti-
lation, all the dangers from draughts and unequal
heating. ‘This simple mode was described by the fe-
porter in a lecture delivered at the Royal Institution in
March, 1836.
tom 20 pe ace
ANTAR, AN ARABIAN ROMANCE...
Tux name of the Caliph Haroun al Raschid is familiar
to the reader of the ‘ Arabian Nights’ Entertainments.’
He was a contemporary of Charlemagne, and even held
intercourse with him. Gibbon, speaking of Charle-
magne (whose reign extended from 768 to 814), says,
that he “ maintained an intercourse with the Caliph
Haroun al Raschid, whose dominion stretched from
Africa to India, and accepted from his ambassadors a
tent, a water-clock, an elephant, and the keys of the
Holy Sepulchre.”
The caliph was a liberal patron of literature, which
flourished at his court. One of the most learned men
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
99
of the time was Asmaee, who was in high consideration
with the caliph, and was the author of many volu-
minous works. His memory appears to have been
stored with the traditions and tales of the Arabs, as
handed down from the ‘Time of Ienorance,” the
epithet bestowed on the ages preceding Mahommed.
These he used to relate or recite, to the delight of the
caliph and the courtiers, though it would appear that
he drew them out to a length that sometimes ex-
hausted even the patience of Orientalism: To Asmaee,
assisted by others, is ascribed the authorship of the
* Life and Adventures of Antar,’ an Arabian Romance,
which has heen for centuries a great favourite in the
Kast. It is regarded by Oriental scholars as a work of
considerable merit, and may be termed an epic poem.
It is also valuable as affording glimpses of the state of
society amongst the Arabs before the birth of the
founder of Mahommedanism.
An idea of the extent of the work may be gathered
from the fact, that, when Terrick Hamilton, Esq., the
Oriental Secretary to the British Embassy at Constan-
tinople, undertook the translation of ‘Antar,’ it was
from an abridged copy; and that, having divided it
into three parts for publication, the first part, which
reaches from the birth to the marriage of Antar, oc-
cuptes four octavo volumes. The second part, Mr.
Hamilton says, includes the period when Antar (who
was a poet as well as a warrior), suspends his poem at
Mecca, and also extends his power and authority. The
third relates his various distant wars and visits to Con-
stantinople and Europe, and concludes with his death.
Burckhardt, the eminent traveller, in a letter to Mr.
Hamilton, gives a proof of the estimation in which the
Arabs hold ‘ Antar.’ When he was reading a portion
of it to some Arabs, they were in ecstacies of delight,
but at the same time so enraged at his erroneous pro-
nunciation, that they actually tore the sheets out of his
hands. “In Aleppo it is highly valued, particularly
by the Armenians; and in coffee-houses it is read alond
by some particular person, who keeps a sheet in his
hand, to which he occasionally refers to refresh his
memory: It is given to children, who are obligved to
copy it out, and thus acquire the habit of speaking
elegantly and correctly ; and it may be attributed to
this canse that copies of ‘ Antar’ are generally found
written most execrably ill, and abounding in errors of
every kind*.” ‘ Antar’ is also a favourite in Damascus,
Baedad, and Cairo.
‘Antar’ opens with a brief history of Arabia, or
rather genealogy of its kings, from Ishmael the son of
Abraham to the birth of the hero of the work. Queen
Rohab, a warlike woman, the head of the Arab tribe
Reeyan, made war on King Jazeemah, of the tribe of
Abs and Adnan. The queen challenges ihe king to
single combat. ‘* He agreed, and consented, and im-
mediately he came down to the field, and he was like a
furious lion; he gwalioped and charged before the war-
riors, and rushed into the scene of blows and thrusts.
Queen Rohab dashed down on him, mounted on a raven-
coloured steed, strong-sinewed. She charged with him
over the plain, till the horsemen were amazed. Then
they be@an the storm and bluster, the sport and exertion,
the wive and take, the strng@le and the wrestle; and
every eye gazed intently on them, and every neck was
stretched out at them. Just then passed between them
two matchless spear-thrusts. King Jazeemah’s was
the first, so roused was he by the terrors and calamities
that threatened him. Bnt when Rohab beheld the
spear-thrust coming upon her, and that death was in
it, she bent herself forward till her breast tonched the
horse, and the well-aimed thrust passed without effect.
She then replaced herself on her saddle, and dashed
furiously at him and attacked him: she struck him with
horror, aud drove the spear through his chest, and
* Preface to § Antar,’
56
forced out the point sparkling at his back. He tot-
tered from his horse, and his senses were annihilated.
Then the Arabs assailed one another, and the earth
shook beneath them. Blows fell right: and wrong,
necks were hewn off, and hoary beards were stained
with Blood. The strugele was intense; and all the
Arabs in those valleys were in universal commotion,
like so many genii.”
Antar’s mother was a black woman, of elegant figure,
and striking appearance. She was taken captive by
Shedad, who, in turn, being captivated by her, the
slave becomes his wife. Antar, when a boy, was “ black
and swarthy like an elephant, flat-nosed, blear-eyed,
harsh-featured, shaggy-haired ;” he was “like the frag-
ment of a cloud, his ears immensely long, and with eyes
whence flashed sparks of fire.’ As he grew up, he
began to indicate that he was no ordinary youth. In
his tenth year he knocked down a wolf that sought for
a morsel among his flocks, and carried its head and legs
home to his mother, who showed them to his father,
Shedad, as an evidence of his son’s precocity. Other
daring deeds are related of him during his minority.
- The heroine of the work is Ibla, Antar’s cousin. But
the reader must bear in mind that both Antar’s parent-
age and colour placed him in an equivocal position—
he was the son of aslave. Ibla “ was lovely as the full
moon,: and’ perfectly beautiful and elegant. She fre-
quently joked with Antar, and was very familiar with
him; as he was her servant.” Antar, of course, falls in
love with her, and pours out his tears and his verses as
a proof of it. : ‘‘The lovely virgin has strnck my, heart
with the arrow of a glance, for which there is no cure.
* * * She moves—I should say it was the branch
of the tamarisk that waves its branches to the southern
breeze. . ‘She’ approaches—I should say it was the
frichtened fawn; when a calamity alarms it in the
waste. She walks away’—&c. &c. |
But Antar proved, as Shakspeare afterwards said,
that *‘ the course of true love is not smooth ’—at least
in the hands of the poets. He goes through.some ex-
traordinary adventures, and performs wondrous deeds
of valour, before he is rendered happy by his marriage
with Ibla. These occupy the four volumes edited by
Mr. Hamilton. .
His character, and the spirit which animated him, is
thus depicted by himself :—
“The heights of glory are not at but at the
point of the spear, and patience in the day of battle
through the heaviest difficulties, and the challenge of
every lion-hero, and long-bearded warrior. Ask my
horse of me, when flashes of fire fly from his hoofs, I
have a spear-thrust that deals the most excruciating
pain, and raises me above all competitors; and my
Indian blade cuts through the nocturnal calamities
whenever I draw it. Iam the son of the black-faced
Zebeeba that tends the camels. Iam a slave, but my
fury o’erwhelms the lordly chiefs in the battle. As to
Death, should I meet him, I will not shrink from him
when he appears to me—it is a draught I must inevit-
ably take when the day of my dissolution arrives.”
Antar is thus a genuine knight of chivalry—a warrior
and a minstrel animated by the love of Ibla, whom
he apostrophises as the sovereign of his very blood and
his mistress. But he has to encounter a rival in Ama-
rah, who sneers at Antar as base-born, and ridicules
the idea of his aspirine to Ibla’s hand.
Amongst Antar’s numerous adventures, he meets
with a plundering party, the chief of which exclaims,
“ [ am Sudam, the assailer of warriors; in me is a
heart harder than mountains. In horror and fear of
me, even the wild beasts of the waste shrink into the
Obscurity of caverns: and were Death a substance, I
would steep his right hand in the blood of his left.” At
this challenge, Antar grasped his spear, he slackened |
the bridle of his steed, and gave a shout that made the |
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
[Fepruary 11, 1837
‘
deserts and the rocks tremble. One of the party calls
out to him, “ State thy descent; peradventure thy con-
nexion may protect thee: otherwise deliver up thy horse
and thy armour.’ Antar’s feats of. valour astonish
Sudam, who, in the true spirit of chivalry, exclaims,
‘© Hold, O Arab: tell me what horseman thou art, and
with what tribe thou art connected; for thy battle ex-
cites my surprise, and thy prowess is most wonderful.”
But Antar would make no concessions, and Sudam is
slain. ‘The victor then delivers three young ladies, who
had been Sudam’s prisoners, and is addressed by the
mother of the damsels in a glowing strain of eloquence.
A still more striking resemblance to the customs of
chivalry, is his undertaking, for the sake of his imistress,
distant and dangerous adventures. As for instance,
her father requires for her dowry a number of camels of
a peculiar breed, in the possession of a powerful chief
who never parts with any. ‘This dowry Antar under-
takes to procure, and achieves partly by stratagem and
partly by force.
The patient submission to the ill-treatment which,
on many occasions, he experiences from his father, is
also a very striking feature in his character, and, to-
gether with his love, contrasts very beautifully with the
barbarous and bloody conflicts, and: turbulent and
boisterous scenes, which occupy almost entirely the
period of his life contained within the four volumes that
have been translated. ,
Antar triumphs over all his enemies and his diffi-
culties, and Ibla becomes his wife. During the mar-
riage festivities a chief named Awtaban comes against
him, but his overthrow by Antar was an easy matter,
and only served to set off the rest of the amusements.
Antar makes a speech, and when he had finished, ‘ the
heroes and warriors were astonished at his eloquence ;
they retired home, and dividing the horses and the spoil
amongst the horsemen, they renewed their feasts, and
entertainments, and sports at the lake of Zat ul irsad,
and the purling streams, the slave women beating the
cymbals, and the men flourishing their swords.”
It is certainly not a little remarkable, that in a work
written upwards of a thousand years ago, we should
see all the characteristics of the chivalric romance dis-
tinctly developed. ‘There are certain coarsenesses in it
which do not belong to the more polished romances of
some centuries later, with which the people of Europe
were delighted. But these roughnesses or brutalities
indicate the fidelity of the picture, as exhibiting the
manners of nomade tribes, perpetually at war with
each other, almost always on horseback, ever ready for
the fray or the feast; spoiling or being spoiled; and
upholding their character of having their hand lifted
up against every man, and every man’s hand against
them. Indeed, the quality of the romance which throws
the Arab into ecstacies renders it tedious to us. ‘The
whole book seems to be in commotion, but the dashing
onwards, retreating, capturing cattle, plundering tents,
carrying off the females and the youth as slaves, the
sudden dangers and the sudden deliverances, have a
sameness, at least, in the English language. But,
setting aside the picture of manners, we have here the
deserts of Arabia as a vast tilting-field; mailed war-
riors on noble steeds perform feats of valour, and as-
sailing parties raise their battle cries; Antar, before he
is acknowledged as a knight, performs the humble
offices of a squire; and though he is not portrayed,
like Spenser’s hero in the ‘ Faerie Queen,’ as accom-
plished in the “‘ ‘I'welve Moral Virtues,” he yet vows,
in the outset of his career, to “ arm himself against
worldly lusts, that he may be considered noble-minded
and faithful.”
*,* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at
99, Lincoln’s Inu Fields.
LONDON: CHARLES KNIGHT & CO., 22, LUDGATE STREET.’
_ Printed by WyLL1AmM CLowezs and Sons, Stamford Street,
THE PENNY MAGAZINE
OF THE
Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge.
J13.J
PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY.
ANDREW HOFER’S MONUMENT.
——
— SS —
S—
————————
~« 2
——.
an tbs
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ont thi
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j shed , i
vnelllll uh
-— * ee
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ial = a
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Sp a ec ee
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re ee
{Monument to Andrew Hofer, in the Cathedral-church of the Holy Cross at Innspruck. |
THERE are some striking points of similarity in the
In the memoir of Andrew Hofer, introduced into the
character and fate of William Wallace and of Andrew | account of Innspruck, given in No. 209 of the * Penny
Hofer. The Tyrolean patriot of the nineteenth cen-
tury had probably never heard of the Scottish hero of
the thirteenth century ;—yet similar motives impelled
both to arouse their countrymen to resistance. They
were both for a time. successful, and spread abroad the
terror of their names, but were ultimately obliged to
seek their safety in concealment ;—in their distress both
were treacherously betrayed, and forfeited their lives to
a stern and revengeful policy, which could not or would
not appreciate their motives and conduct ;—and both
left behind them in the memories of their countrymen
nobler and more enduring monuments than brass or
marble. Thus, amid all the changes of. time and cir-
cumstance which alter and colour the course of human
action, its source is still the same—the grasping con-
queror and the daring patriot are still actuated by the
same impulses,
VoL. VI.
Magazine,’ it is stated that his ‘body was brought to
Innspruck, and interred in the Cathedral-church of the
Holy Cross. ‘‘An immense concourse of ‘Tyroleans
followed to the tomb, over which the Austrians spoke
of erecting a monument, which, as far as we are In-
formed, has not yet been executed.’ This monument
has been executed. ‘A correspondent, who furnished
the drawing for the accompanying wood-cul, says,
“The statue is executed in perfectly white Carrara
marble, the figure being about eight feet hich, exclusive
of the rough pediment attempted to be represented in
the drawing, and it stands upon an upright block, or
parallelogram, of white marble, about eicht feet high.
I will not attempt to add to the description already
viven of the Cathedral-church of the Holy Cross more
than to observe, that the simple and noble statue
of Hofer heightens in no small degree the sublime
I
[Fesruary 18, 1837.
58
effect produced upon a visifer to this uiirivalled mau-
soleum.”
The death of Hofer’s widow was mentioned in the
newspapers, two or three weeks ago, as having recently
occurred. She was in her seventy-second year: she had
lived in retirement with her daughters from the time of
her husband’s execution.
| — -~: _—
A LOOKING-GLASS FOR LONDON:—No: Ill.
ADMINISTRATION OF JUSTICE—CENTRAL
CRiMINAL Court.
THE mitigation of the severity of the nglish Criminal
Law, and the improvement of Prison Discipline, have
occupied a large share of public attention, especially
within the last twenty years. Some of the finest intel-
oes ewee
the crown, that of extending mercy to the utihappy
criminals under sentence of death, was regarded by
them as a game of chance, in which those who suffered
were merely unlucky. The anntidl a¥erage of pérsons
against whom sentence of death was recorded at thie
Old Bailey was upwards of eight}; and the annual
average of actual executions about thirty—taking a
period of about two-thirds of a cénttiry prior to 1829.
e@ «>
atid other cares pressed on their attention. ‘ I have
been,” says Dr. Lushington, “ into the gaol at New-
gate beforé the order came down for executions to take
place; when there were thirty-five persons capitally
convicted; such has been the uncertainty, that the then
governor of the gaol has pointed out to me as the per-
sons hkely to be executed; certain four or five indi-
viduals; and that sarhe night came down the order, and
not one of them was ordered for execution, but other
four persons:’ ‘This uncertainty made juries unwilling
to convict; and professed thieves knew this, and pre-
ferred bein& indicted on a capital charge, because they |
had a better chance df escaping: ‘‘ The fate of one set
of culprits,” says Alderman Harmer, “‘ had no effect even |
on those who were next to be reported; they played
at ball; and passed tlieir jokés as if nothing was the
matter.”
thenticity of which he vouches, which, thoueh an ex-
treineé case; may serve to illustrate the kind of influence
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
[Fesruary 18,
which these freqnent executions had on the public mind.
‘There was a person executed at Newgate for forgery.
A boy, respectably brought up, passed by, who for the
first time saw an execution. He went home, and
that very day he forged upon his master, and was left
for execution. He was not executed; becatse the Or-
dinary of that time refused to administer the sacrament
to him, on account of his youth, and that was considered
a sufficient gronnd to let him off, though at that period
the executions for forgery were uniform.”
From 1748 to 1817 there were 5727 criminals capi-
tally convicted in London, and out of that number 1958
were executed. For the three years ending 1829 the
executions were sixty-three ; for the three years ending
1832 they amounted to sixteen ; and in the three years
ending 1835 they fell down to two. In the last report
made by the Recorder to the King (on January 25th),
there were nineteen individuals capitally convicted, the
youngest being stated at twelve years of age, and the
rest vatying from fifteen to twenty-two or twenty-three.
‘They were all pardoned as far as the extreme penalty,
the sentetices being, of course, commuted for trans-
portation. | |
THE sessions at the Old Bailey used to be held eight
tiiiéS A year. Bit frequent as these sittings were, they
were ilisitfficiefit for such a population as that of Lon-
don. There were, besides, anomalies in the jurisdiction
of the court. A persén committing an offence on the
| Middlésex side of the Thames, on being committed to
Néwedte, would liave a probability of being tried in
five Ur Six weéks: but if he crossed the river, and com-
initted thé offence at Lambeth or at Greenwich, he
would be fratisferred to the Surrey or Kent assizes, and
ihiehit lie iti prison five or six months before trial. The
Middlésex grand jiities were assembled at the county
Séssiotis house int Clerkenwell, and there were frequent
delays in the fitidiiie of the bills of indictment, and
senditi¢ then up to the Old Bailey. To remedy these
-incolveilieices, ati Act was passed in 1834, establish-
ine a “ Ceiitral Criminal Court.” ‘The jurisdiction of
this court extends to all places within ten miles of
St. Paiil’s, and thiis; besides Middlesex, runs into three
counties; Stirrey, Kent, and Essex. It has also an
Admiralty jurisdiction, by which offences committed on
thé hizh seas can be tried init. The Lord Mayor, the
aldermen, the recorder and comtmon serjeant of the cor-
poration, and the judges of the land, are the judges in
this court. Its sessions are held once a month at the
Old Bailey, and tlie sittings last generally from five to
six dayS—soihetimes more than 4 week.
The stranger who walks up the Old Bailey street will
easily discefn whether the cottrt is sitting or not. The
straw on the street, to deaden the sound of passine car-
riages ; the groups of idling, curious, or anxious people
about the entrances; the passing in and ont of wit-
nesses (a large proportion of whom are generally police
officers), and of official personages, will tell him the
nature of the business which is transacting within. All
this outside bustle may impress the visiters mind; he
will natutally say, here is the criminal court of a vast
population—of a kingdom in the compass of a city—
and which, besides; has power to try offences committed
-by British seamen on the high seas in any part of the
globe. He will enter, therefore; it the expectation of
seeing all the pomp and cireuistance of state: tlie
Lord Mayor and aldermen in their robes of office; the
sheriffs in their courtly dress; the legal judges sitting
in all the gravity of their station; and the inferior offi-
cers of the court weaning a beedming ard appropriate
solemnity. But then he most recollect that the sittings
of the court are so frequent as once a month; that it is
not a common occurrence that a prisoner is to be tried
And Dr. Lushineton tells a story, the an- | whose character or crime has aroused the morbid curio-
sity of thousands, and gathered hundreds round tiie
doors, vainly seeking admission inte the already crowded
1837]
court, and envying the functionaries whose official duties
give them privilege of entrance; and that the ordinary
business of the court is of a very common-place, or rather
ofa humbling and melancholy character, having more
to do with human nature in its meaner displays of
ignorance and depravity combined, than with human
nature under the development of those higher displays
of passion which arrest the attention of mankind, Still,
out of such a population as is included in the jurisdic-
tion of the court, cases will be continually arising which
will afford to the lover of mere excitement his some-
what ignoble gratification, and to the thoughtful mind |
a more rational employment.
There are two court-rooms at the Old Bailey, termed
the Old and the New Courts, in which, during the
sessions, the trials are carried on. The Old Court is
the one in which the King’s judges sit, and in which
all the more serious crimes are tried. When the busi-:
ness is not of such a nature as to require the presence
of the superior judges, the city judges (Recorder,
Common Serjeant, &c.) sit in the Old Court, but on
the arrival of the Kine’s jindges (one, two, or three of
whom attend during the greater part of each session)
they retire to the New Court, and try the lighter kinds.
of offences. During the greater part of the session the
grand jury are busily occupied in investigating the
orounds on which accused persons are committed—so
that in fact, at the Old Bailey, there are three court-
rooms, in which judicial investigations are going on
during
Coutt.
The Old Court is an oblong room, nearly square ;
along one side is ranged the bench, the central seat of
which is an arm-chair, having a canopy over it, like the
sounding-board of a pulpit; under this canopy, on the
crimson lining of the wall, is fixed the sheathed sword
of justice.
and facing the bench the dock, the front of which is
teehnically termed the bar, into which the prisoners are
brought. Round a table in the centre of the room sit
the counsel in their official costume. The accommo-
dation for an audience in the court is very limited.
If the stranger has entered on the first day of the
sitting of the court, he may see the grand jury, preceded
by an officer bearing a white wand, come in with the
bills of indictment. ‘There is, perhaps, but a solitary
judge on the bench, and one or two members of the
city corporation. The bills of indictment are read ;
aud by and by a batch of prisoners are brought in
to be arraigned. They come crowding into the dock
like sheep in a pen; of the whole twenty that are there,
perhaps only one has the look and appearance of*a mau,
the rest being children from nine years of age to fifteen.
The indictments are read, charging them with stealing
such and such articles, value fourpence, or a shilling, or
a pound, as the case may be, and they are successively
asked whether or not they are guilty of this or of these
felonies. They are told that they have the power to
challenge the jury, but some of the ‘little creatures are
staring “with a half impudent, half wondering air about
the court, and they do not understand the language that
1S spakeu. Then the deep voice of the officer is heard,
swearing the jury to ‘well and truly try, and true:
deliverance make, betwixt our sovereign lord the King,
and the prisoners at the bar, and a true verdict give
according to the evidence.” ‘The repetition of the words,
as each ‘individual juryman is sworn, and the kissing
of the book, make some of the thoughtless prisoners
smile, and they are only prevented from laughing out-
right by awe of the attendant turnkeys pevy the our
Proclamation is made by the crier of the jurisdiction of
the court, and all prosecutors and witnesses are warued
to attend ‘and oive their evidence, on pain of forfeiting
their recognizances. There is this advantage in arraigu-
ing a number of prisoners at once, that one swearing of
‘THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
each monthly sitting of the Central Criminal
To the right of the bench is the jury-box ;
29
the jury serves for all their respective cases. When the
process of arraignment is over, they are all taken back,
except the prisoner or prisoners whose case is first on
the list; and then the trials begin.
oh Every day at the Old Bailey, ’ says Alderman Har-
mer, ‘* when prisoners are brought up to be arraigned,
you hear an expression of feeling at seeing’ several “chil-
dren, whose heads scarcely reach the top of the bar,
intermixed with the other prisoners: this is a niserable
exhibition for the andience, and the little urchins are
the only persons in the court that are unconcerned.”
It is unnecessary to describe minutely the proceed-
ings on a criminal trial. The forms do not vary in
London, at least in nothing material, from the mode
in which criminal law is administered throughout Ene-
land. At the close of each session, the prisoners are
brought up to receive their sentences, for sentence is
not pronounced at the close of each trial.
“So late as the reign of Henry ILL.,” say the Commis-
sioners of Criminal Tae “when the fact on a charge
of felony was doubtful, the trial, in the absence of any
certain known accuser (that is, where the charge pro-
ceeded on common fame), was usually by the ‘ordeal.
When this superstitious custom had been superseded,
m consequence of a letter from the Pope, in the early
part of that reign, a doubt was entertained, as appears
from Bracton, how any prisoner could be convicted
when he put himself on the Patria, or jury, for his
deliverance; the jury themselves (who formerly were
the witnesses) having no certain and actual knowledge
of the fact. ‘To that time, it appears, prisoners could
not be convicted, unless the jury themselves had actual
knowledge of the fact, and the assistance of counsel tc
speak to the fact, oni consequently have been useless.
It is perhaps to this singular constitution of the ancient
criminal law that the exclusion of full defence by coun-
sél in cases of felony is attributable.” (This was
written before the late change in the law.) ‘* When
(probably in consequence of the abolition of the ordeal)
juries from being eye-witnesses of the fact, exercised
the function of judges of the fact ypon the testimony
of others, and frequently upon circumstantial evidence
only, the assistance of counsel became materia] and
essential to'the purposes of justice. ‘The continuance
of the exclusion after the reason had ceased, may be
referred to other causes. Jt formed but one of the
numerous and oppressive disabilities to which prisoners
for capital offences were formerly, and are, thougli to a
less extent, still subjected.” By an Act, passed in 1836,
persons indicted of felony are permitted to make their
full answer and defence by counsel or attorney.
The number of persons charged at the police stations
of London during the year 1834 was 64,269, consisting
of 41,686 males and 22,583 females. A very great
proportion of this number consisted of cases of drunk-
enness, disturbances in the streets, &c. Out of the
whole number, 3,468 were committed for trial. In
1835 there were 2,849 tried before the Central Criminal
Court, which is an average of 237 to each monthly sit-
ting, A caleulation has been made of the number of
criminals i in Middlesex, as compared with the census of
1831, which gives a total number of 4,037, or 1 in every
326. The proportion of males and females in the hun-
dred of these offenders, is given as seventy-six males
and twenty-four females. The decrease of crime in
Middlesex in 1835, as compared with 1834, is stated
to be 17 per cent.
The gaols and houses of correction in London are,
in addition to Newgate, Giltspur Street House of Ger-
rection, a few yards from Newgate; Cold Bath Fields
House of Correction; the New Prison, Clerkenwell ;
Westminster City Gaol and House of Correction ; Lon-
don Bridewell ; lind the Millbank Penitentiary, on the
banks of the Thames, near Vauxhall Bridge.
The prison of the Fleet, the King’s Bench Prison,
24
60 THE PENNY MAGAZINE. [Fepruary 18,
&c., will be noticed when treating of the administration. erected about twenty-two years ago, the debtors impri-
of civil justice, and the jurisdiction of the superior courts. | soned within the city having been previously confined
Whitecross Street Prison, in the city, for debtors, was | in Newgate and Giltspur Street Prison.
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[The Wild Cat.]
THe Felidae, or Cat-tribe, form one of the most natural
and characteristic groups of the class mammalia. From
the lion or tigcr to the domestic cat, all are endowed
with the same instincts,—the same appetites,—the
same organic structure. Carnivorous in the extreme,
they are admirably framed for a life of rapine.
The larger of the feline race, the lion, the tiger, the
leopard, and the panther, are natives of the hotter
portions of the globe, where life teems to excess,
ald where the larger herbivorous mammalia abound
upon which they habitually prey. The feline race,
as a whole, are concentrated in the warmer latitudes,
——the specics being fewer and more widely dispersed as
we pass from the warm to the temperate or colder
regions. No country, however, is without its felide,
—not even the bleak regions of Siberia, or the fur-
countrics. of northern Canada; nor is our own island
destitute of an indigenous species,—the wild cat (Felis
calus, Linn.) ‘That the genuine wild cat of the British
Islands is specifically distinct from our domestic race, is
now universally admitted. At the same time, it often
happeus that individuals of our domestic breed betake
themselves to the woods, or to extensive preserves of
eame, where, finding their supply of food ‘abundant,
they permanently establish themselves, and lead an
independent life. Such emancipated individuals as
these must not be confounded with the genuine wild
cat, an animal essentially distinct, and an aboriginal of
our island. We hear it often asserted that the wild
and tame cat breed together, but there is every reason
to believe that the wzd cat in this case is one of the
domestic species, leading an independent life. Such
have frequently come under our own cognizance ;—we
have known them haunt coppices and woods in the
vicinity of farmhouses, and commit extensive ravages
among the poultry and pigeons. ‘The grounds upon
which the specific distinction between the domestic cat
and the wild cat is now admitted, consist in their decided
difference of general conformation; besides standing
higher on the limbs, the body of the wild cat is much
more robust than in the tame; the tail is shorter, and,
instead of tapering, terminates somewhat abruptly,
being even fuller at its extremity than at its base ; it is
also invariably tipped with black. The lips and soles
of the feet are also black. In the domestic cat the
head is moderate and rounded, the body slender, the
tail long and tapering, the colours variable. Of the
original introduction of the domestic cat into our island
we have no information; but we know that, at an early
period in England, the domestic cat was highly valued;
a circumstance strongly corroborative of the specific
distinction between it and the wild cat, which, though
now comparatively rare, was formerly, while England
was but partially cleared of the dense forests which
once covered it, extremely abundant, insomuch that the
procuring of young litters could have been of little
difficulty. . While, however, the wild cat was common,
the domestic cat was rare, and its price fixed at a high
1837,]
ratio. In the Welch Laws of Hoel the Good, in the
ninth century, it was established that the price of a
kitten before it could see should be one penny; until
it caught a mouse, twopence; and when it commenced
mouser, fourpence. If we consider the value of the
penny in the ninth century, we shall find that none but
those in comfortable circumstances could afford to buy
acat. It was also ordained that the person who had
stolen the cat kept to guard the king’s granary, “‘ was
to forfeit a milch ewe, its fleece and lamb; or as much
wheat as, when poured on the cat, suspended by the
tail, the head touching the floor, would form a heap
high enough to cover the tip of the former.”
The origin of our domestic cat is attributed by M.
Temminck to a species indigenous in Nubia, Abyssinia,
and Northern Africa, and known under the scientific
name of Felis maniculata. Wowever this may be, the
domestic cat was amone the sacred animals of the
Iigyptians ; it was kept in their temples, is figured on
the remains of Egyptian monuments, and its mummies
are found in the tombs,—circumstances leading to a
plausible hypothesis that its first domestication is to be
attributed to that people, and that it is au aboriginal of
the country adjacent to Egypt, or of Egypt itself.
The wild cat, thits established as distinct from the
tame breed, is found throughout the whole of Europe,
wherever extensive woods afford it an asylum: it is
common in the forests of Germany, Hungary, Russia,
and the western parts of Asia; and, though scarce, is
not extirpated in the British islands. Its chief strong-
holds are among the mountains of Scotland, of the
northern counties of England, and of Wales and Ire-
land, the larger woods being its place of resort, and of
concealment by day. Here it lurks on the branches of
large trees, in the hollows of decayed trunks, and in the
clefts and holes of rocks, issuing forth at night to seek
its prey; on hares, rabbits, grouse, partridges, and all
kind of game, it commits sad havoc, and the feathers of
its victims, scattered about, often betray its presence in
the neighbourhood, and rouse the indignation of the
oamekeeper, who lets pass no opportunity of destroying
such noxious “vermin.” Young lambs and fawns are by
no means safe from its attack; indeed of all our native
beasts of prey, at present living within the precincts of
our island, it is the fiercest and most destructive. Pen-
nant calls it the ‘* British tiger,” and if it has not the
strength and size of the tiger it has all its ferocity. ‘The
destruction of the wild cat is not altogether destitute of
danger; for when hard pressed, or enraged by a wound
too slight to disable it, it darts fiercely on its opponent,
alming chiefly at the face and eyes, and using both
claws and teeth with vindictive fury; it clings on to the
last, tearing and rending until fairly dispatched, its
assailant bearing severe marks of the fray.
The size to which this species attains is sometimes
very great. Bewick says that he recollects one killed
in the county of Cumberland which measured, from the
nose to the end of the tail, upwards of five feet. For
ourselves we have never seen an individnal: of such
dimensions, and are inclined to suspect a mistake: the
males, which exceed the females, are seldom more than
three feet in length, of which the tail occupies about a
third. An enraged cat of even these dimensions is no
trifling antagonist ; like all the smaller felid@, however,
the present species shuns the face of man, and does not
willingly hazard an encounter. The female pertina-
clously defends her young, and while she is engaged
with her progeny it is not very safe to disturb her in
her retreat: she usually produces four or five at a birth,
making a bed for them in,a hollow tree or the fissure
of a rock, and sometimes she even usurps the nest of a
large bird in which to rear her young.
The fur of the wild cat is full and deep; on the face
it is of a yellowish grey colour, passing into greyish
brown on the head; several interrupted black stripes
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
61
| extend from the forehead, and pass between the ears to
the occiput ; the general colour of the body is dark grey,
a dusky black stripe running down the spine, while
beautiful transverse wavines of an obscure blackish
brown adorn the sides; the tail is ringed with the same
tint, except at the tip which is black.
Fine specimens of the male and female wild cat,
killed in Scotland, are in the museum of the Zoologi-
cal Society; as is also a specimen of the felis mani-
culata, the alleged origin of our domestic breed. A
comparison of these species together is one of much
interest. We may here add, that we have seen no cor-
rect drawing of the felis maniculata, though several
have been published.
eS
BRITISH FISHERIES, No. WI. 9 29/04
TE search after food is an instinct of our nature which
the rudest savage must necessarily obey; but a con-
siderable time must elapse from the first faint dawning
of civilization ere the occupation of the fisherman, for
instance, becomes unconnected with any other.’ The
division is effected gradually, and can only be com-
pleted in a highly improved condition of society. It is
therefore difficult to trace the history of the herring-
fishery from a very early period to the state in which
it existed in the sixteenth century; but it may be
conceived as constantly growing into importance in
proportion as men devoted themselves to settled pur-
suits, and left off piracy by sea and marauding by land.
Duhamel quotes a charter of William the Conqueror,
from which it appears that, in the eleventh century,
vessels from Dieppe, called “‘ @rands drogueurs,” went
to the north in July to fish for herrings, ‘and that
they brought them home salted in barrels. ; In 1265,
according’ to Selden, the Dutch obtained permission
from Edward I. to fish at Yarmouth.. The Dutch
are believed to have been indebted for their superior
method of preparing herrines to William Beuckel, or
Beukels, a native of Biervliet, in Flanders. He pro-
bably discovered an improved mode of curing, which
enabled the Dutch to introduce their herrings as an
article of foreign commerce. The subsequent import-
ance of this trade thus originated in the intelligent
manner in which a poor but industrious fisherman
applied his talents. In 1536, Charles V., accompanied
by his sister, the Queen of Hungary, paid a visit to the
tomb of Beukels, thus offering a noble tribute of respect
to a man who had so essentially benefited his species.
The Dutch herrings soon became highly esteemed in all
the European markets, and a great source of profit to
those engaged in the trade: there is a popular saying in
Holland, that *‘ The foundation of Amsterdam is laid on
herring-bones,” alluding to the staple trade of the
country in the same metaphorical sense that Old
London Bridge was said to have been built upon wool-
packs. The herring-fishery was considered as the
right arm of the republic, and under the Stadtholders
it was always entitled the ‘“‘ Grand Fishery.” Public
prayers were occasionally offered up for its prosperity.
In 1560 a thousand vessels were directly engaged in
the herring-fishery ; in 1610 there were 1500; and ten
years after 2000 vessels were employed. When the
herring-fishery was in the height of its prosperity, the
total number of vessels which it employed, including
those engaged in importing salt, in conveying tt to
fishing ships, in returning with cured fish, and in the
exportation of that fish to foreign markets, was 6400 ;
and the number of mariners and fishermen engaged in
the trade was 112,000. Holland at that time pos-
sessed 10,000 sail of shipping, and 168,000 mariners.
The Pensionary De Witt said that every filth person
earned his subsistence by the fisheries, or about 450,000
individuals in all, the total population being 2,400,000.
As the number of persons aged between 18 and 56
62
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
[Frpruanry 18,
comprised in this population would amount to one- | of 80,0002. was raised for establishing a British fishery,
fourth, or 600,000, one-half of whom would be females,
the estimate given hy De Witt has generally been con-
sidered as exaggerated: but when it 1s considered that
there was scarcely a servant, male or female, in the
fishing towns, who had not a share in some buss, and
that when a man could not build a buss, he collected
money for the purpose among his friends, the proba-
bility is that De Witt’s calculation was to a great extent
correct, and that the large proportion of individuals
which he mentions did gain, if not their whole, a por-
tion of their subsistence from the fishery.
The extraordinary development of industry in Hol-
land may be regarded as a striking proof of the in-
fluence exercised by position and local circumstances.
H¥ad the soil yielded an abundant increase, the inha-
bitants would never have sought the means of subsist-
ence amidst the dangers of the seas. ‘The energies of
man have generally been most advantageously em-
ployed when directed by necessity, provided that the
real objects of labour are attained in the shape of addi-
tional comforts and enjoyments. Holland could not
have existed but for the embankments which the inha-
bitants raised with so much industry as a protection
from the ravages of the sea. ‘Phe physical existence of
their country was founded upon industry, and hence its
advantages were understood at an early period; and
both the navy and commerce of Holland excited the
envy of other countries, which did not comprehend so
well the arts which make a nation rich. It was na-
tural that a people in this condition should be more
successful in the fisheries than any other, because it
was more necessary to their prosperity than it could be
to countries whose resources were more various. ‘The
navy of Holland. was a formidable rival to our own
maritime force; its 10,000 sail of commercial shipping
and 168,000 mariners far exceeded our own mercantile
marine, and yet, as De Witt remarks of his country and
its shipping, it afforded them “ neither materials, nor vic-
tual, nor merchandise, to be accounted of towards their
setting forth.’ Foreign commerce was of vital import-
ance to such a nation, and De Witt points out the
sources of its riches. ‘* The manufacturers,” he says,
“live chiefly upon herrings; manufactures employ the
merchants, merchants promote commerce, and com-
merce and fisheries are the sources of navigation and
naval power, which are the principal supports of a mari-
time state.” Sir Walter Raleigh estimated the annual
value of the Dutch fisheries at 10,000,000/., but this cal-
culation was much too high. It was, however, believed
at the time to be correct; and it became a source of
regret and irritation to the English nation that this
harvest should be obtained on-its coasts, while those
who had a more peculiar right to derive a profit from
the fishery reaped comparatively few advantages. Not
only was Holland destitute of many productions which
must necessarily be obtained by foreign commierce, but
her coasts did not abound with the fish from which the
country derived its chief wealth. From Shetland to
the coast of Sussex the British shores were covered with
the Dutch herring-busses, which carried on the fishery
at a distance of from 50 to 250 leagues from their owu
ports. Until the reign of James I. the Dutch were not
permitted to fish on the English coast without licence ;
but afterwards, so far from asking leave, they were fre-
quently in the habit of interfering with the English
fishermen, and would not allow them to pursue their
avocations in quietness. Great efforts were made from
tinie to time to participate in the advantages of the
herrine-fishery, aud it was thought disgraceful that
ISneland should allow its rivals in commerce and naval
supremacy to be enriched with the treasures with which
our coasts abounded. The foliowing is a brief notice
of these attempts :—
In the reign of Queen Elizabeth, in 1580, the sum
In 1615 the same sum was raised by a joint-stock
company. In 1632, under the sanction of Charles I., a
royal fishing company was established. In 1660 Par-
liament remitted the duty on salt employed in curing
| fish, and exempted all the materials ysed in the fisheries
from customs and excise. In 1677 the Duke of York
and others were incorporated into a body, entitled the
“Company of the Royal Fishery of England.” ‘This
company expended its capital in fitting out busses bnilt
in Holland and mauned with Dutchmen, which were
seized by the French in the war which shortly after-
wards ensued. In 1713 a proposal was made for raising
180,000/. on annuities, for the purpose of establishing a
fishing company. In 1749 the subject of establishing
the British fisheries on a large scale was recommended
in the speech from the throne on the opening of Par-
liament. A bill was prepared by General Oglethorpe,
which received the royal assent in 1750. ‘Tindal, in his
‘ History of England,’ says, * It is incredible with what
ardour the news of this bill passing was received by the
public. [Tt had been patronized and promoted by men
of the greatest property and popniarity in the king-
dom, and Admiral Vernon made a voyage to Holland
on purpose to make himself master of the manner of
their carrying on the fisheries and curing their fish.”
The sum of 500,000. was subscribed, and a body was
incorporated under the title of the ‘* Society for the
True British Fishery.” The Prince of Wales was
chosen governor, and thirty gentlemen, nearly all of
whom were members of Parliament, were appointed as
the council of this society. A bounty of 30s. per ton
was allowed, and paid ont of the Customs, to all new
vessels from twenty to twenty-eight tons burden, which
should be purposely built for employment in the fishery ;
and the sum of 34. 10s. was paid to the proprietors, for
fourteen years, for every 100/. which was actually em-
ployed in the fisheries. In addition to the London com-
pany, fishing’ chambers were established in such of the
outports as subscribed 10,000/., to be managed at their
own risk, and for their own profit and loss. Ail the
advantages which were held out to the London com-
pany were given to the smaller provincial companies.
The nets were made at Poplar on the Dutch pattern,
and for some time upwards of 2000 persons were em-
ployed in this cccupation. In 1759 the bounty was
increased to 50s. per ton. Ina few years not a vestige
remained to indicate that snch a society had existed,
Its failure was complete. In 1786 a new corporation
was established, which was entitled the ** British Society
for extending the Fisheries, and improving the Sea-
Coasts of the Kingdom.” In 1808 commissioners were
appointed for superintending the British fisheries and
distributing the bounties, and who were directed to
prepare every year a report of the state of the fisheries.
The abolition of the bounty teok place in 1830. The
bounty of 2s. 8d. per barrel on herrings exported ceased
in 1826, and in that year the reduction of the bounty of
4s. on every barrel cured commenced; and beine con-
tinned at the rate of ls. each year, ceased in 1830,
Mr. M‘Culloch estimated that the bounty was equal to
half the value of the herrings as sold by the fisherman,
and to one-fourth of their value as sold by the curer.
The average price of a barrel of cured herrings is taken
at 16s.—viz., 8s. to the fisherman and 8s. to the curer,
for barrel, salt, and labour.
It may seem extraordinary that, in spite of the efforts
which were made to promote the prosperity of the
British Fisheries, the best-intentioned plans failed.
The bounty system, which was at one period insisted
upon as the main dependence for success, has been
relinquished, and the prosperity or decline of the fishery
now depends on its own intrinsic value. The objects
of the plans to which allusion has been made were, in |
the first place, the creation of a nursery for seamen, -—
1837.]
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
638
and the increase of our naval power, which was warmly | food, as all fresh herrings were purchased for curing
a,
regarded and highly popular with all classes of the
people; and the next was the ificrease of the supply
of food. Neither of these ends were attained by the
system pursued, while there is every probability that
the present course, which leaves the industry of the
fisherman to depend, like every other, upon tts public
utility, will really attain both objects. When the con-
sumption of fish in Lent and on fast-days was no lounger
considered a religious duty; a great diminution in the
demand for this species of food took place. Several
Acts were passed to encourage the consumption of fish
as a patriotic duty ; and at another opportunity these
enactments will be more particularly explained. The
decay of fishing-towns.it was feared would lead to a
diminution of our naval power; and hence the suc-
cessive attempts to stimulate the prosperity of the
fisheries. Davenant remarked, about the year 1690,
that, ‘‘ for the last hundred years, wealth did flow in so
fast upon us, that we had no occasion to be more in-
dustrious ;” aiid he gives this as an excuse why we had
not attempted to enrich ourselves with the treasures of
our seas. The true meaning of his remark appears to
be; that we were already so profitably employed, that it
would better answer our purpose to buy fish caught for
us than te be at the cost and trouble of fitting out
vessels to catch it 6urselves. In 1750, when the great
“ Society for the True British Fishery ” was established,
our exports did not amount to 20,000,000. The quan-
tity of our surplus manufacturing produce was very
trifine. ‘he cotton manufacture was unknown, and
it was not foreseen that, in the present day, the exports
of cotton goods alone would exceed the total value of
the exports of all kinds at that period. ‘The sea thus
came to be rewarded as a mine of wealth, because all
the @rand economic means of creating riches arising
from improved machinery and a more perfect appli-
cation of capital and labour remained comparatively
unknown, or were not extensively employed. It was
therefore determined to embark in the fishery, and to
realize the golden visions which had enchanted all
classes of the people.
The encouragement of the fishery by means of a
bounty was the great error of the various attempts
to extend the British fisheries. Nothing is more dan-
eerous than the attempt to reeulate the supply and
demand of any object. Such a proceeding is sure to
deran@e the action of both, to throw them out of their
proper course, and to stimulate one when both ought
to be in accordaiice, or alternately to raise the one and
depress the other; and all these evils are the result of
a course which is more expensive than any other.
Adam Smith has shown, in his excellent chapter on
‘Bounties,’ that every barrel of buss-caught herrings,
etired with Scotch salt, when exported, cost Government
17s. 11$d.; and that every barrel cured with foreign
salt, when exported, cost Government Il. 7s. 5d. ;
and whei entered for home-consumption, Il. 3s. 92d.
Lhe price of a barrel of good herrings averaged
about a ~uinea. The futility of the tonnage bounty
on the white-herring fishery is clearly exhibited in the
‘Wealth of Nations.’ ‘The author says—“ It is pro-
portioned to the burden of the ship, not to her dili-
@euce or success in the fishery ; and it has, [ am afraid,
been too common for vessels to fit out for the sole pur-
pose of catching, not the fish, but the bounty. In the
year 1759; when the bounty was at 2/. 10s. the ton,
_the whole buss-fishery of Scotland brought in only four
barrels of ‘‘ sea-sticks *.”
sea-sticks cost Government in bounties alone 113/. 15s, ;
each barrel of merchantable herrings, 159/. 7s. 6d.
The buss-fishery ruined the boat-fishery, on which
there was no bounty; and thus the inhabitants on the
coast were deprived of their usual abundance of cheap
* Herrings caught and cured at sea,
the quantity or reduce the price of food.
In that year each barrel of
So far was the fishery from being a source of profit to
the parties engaged in it, that the bounty, according” to
Smith (and it is easy to foresee that such would be the
result), had the effect of eucouragine “rash under-
takers to adventure in a business which they do not
understand ; and what they lose by their own neeli-
eéence and ignorance more tlhian compensates al] that
they can gain by the utmost liberality of Government.”
We find, from statements by other writers, that one
principal object of the revival of the fisheries had not
been at all promoted, as the individuals who engared
for a tew weeks in the fishery for the purpose of obtain-
ing the bounty, left it as soon as the season was over :
and the numbers of these intruders injured the men
who had really been brought up to the sea, and ren-
dered their livelihood more precarious. The export
bounty of 2s. 8d. per barrel did not tend to augment
With all the
aid which bounties could furnish, the herring-fishery
was never ina state of permanent prosperity. While
the markets in the Mediterranean were becoming less
accessible, those engaged in the fishery still cried out
for the bounty; and on the bounty system the fishing
would have been equally prosperous had there been uo
markets either at home or abroad; and yet it is not
more than twelve years since the export bounty was
abolished, and it is only seven years.since the abolition
of the general bounty of 4s. per barrel took place.
The expectation of rivalling the Dutch in their mode
of curing herrings, and of obtaining the preference in
the markets for British herrings, could not well be
realized under the bounty system, which counteracted
the effects of a limited sale, and did not stimulate the
curer to seek a larger field of demand by the production
of a superior article. The celebrity which the Dutch
acquired appears to have been well deserved. ‘The care
and attention which they employed in every process
connected with the taking and curing of the fish was
euforced by strict regulations. They understood all
the advantages connected with moderation in prices
and excellence of commodity ; and the monopoly which
they enjoyed was not founded upon any unjust or ex-
clusive privileges. The general superiority of the Dutch
herrings appears to have been incontestable ; but during
the herring mania of the last century we were very re-
luctant to admit the fact. Inthe debate on the British
Fishery Bill, in the House of Lords, in 1750, Earl
Granville said he had tried experiments with a view of
ascertaining which were the best herrings both for
keeping and eating, and he found that the British were
superior to the Dutch. His lordship, after relating
the experiments which he had tried while he had been
ambassador at Stockholm, with a view to determine
the point, mentioned the following case :—‘ I had
(he said) a good many years ago a present of some
Scottish herrings sent me by the late Earl of Eelintoun.
Upon trial every gentleman agreed that they were most
exquisite both for taste and. flavour, and far exceeding
anv Dutch herrings they had ever tasted ; yet they were
despised by the country-people; even my own servants
could hardly be induced to taste them.” He proposed,
in order to render them a fashionable dish, that they
should be served up at the tables of the @reat ; and that
small quantities of the best kind should be sent to our
ministers at foreign courts, and to our merchants and
factors who reside in foreign countries. The attempt
to render fish a common article of diet, has however
entirely failed in this country. Although the average
price of all the fish brought to Billingsgate market
does net exceed 24d. per Ib., yet meat, which is more
than double the price, is preferred. Fish is chiefly
consumed by those who are in extreme poverty and by
the rich ; and does not enter largely into the common
i diet of the middle classes, who are in a condition to
64
obtain more expensive food, which they” prefer.. The | minished the activity of the fishermen.
poor of Ireland and the negroes of the West Indies are
the chief consumers of cured herrings ; and they are
used by them rather as a condiment to give a. relish to
vegetables, which would otherwise. be tasteless.. In
countries where salt is heavily taxed, perhaps the most
serviceable condiment which the poor can use, consists
of cured herrings. The British Herring Fishery de-
pends for its prosperity upon quantity rather than qua-
lity; the Dutch npou the excellence rather than thie
abundance of the fishery. Of the cured herrings which
we exported in 1834, about 60,000 barrels were to the
West Indies; 23,403 to Italy and the Italian Jsles ;
20,234 to Prussia; 14,571 to Germany ; 1588 to Gibral-
tar; and 513 barrels to the East Indies. ‘The market
abroad seems far less extensive than it might be if no
impediments were offered by heavy duties. - The cot-
sumption in Spain and Portugal, in the East Indies
and in Italy, might be rendered much greater. At
Naples the duty amounts almost to a prohibition, being
16s, a barrel, and the freight and commission ts about
10s. 83id. It is supposed that if the duty were at all
reasonable, the consuinption would amount to 10,000 or
12,000 barrels a year. At Palermo the duty is 12s.
The British Herring Fishery may be considered, on
the whole, as in a tolerably satisfactory state. The
withdrawal of the bounty, so far from having Injured it,
has had a contrary effect; and the demand and supply
being left to regulate each other, those-who are en-
gaged in the fishery are certain of a market, and are
not induced to venture their capital upon grounds
which may prove merely temporary. In 1818, the
Commissioners of the British Fisheries stated, in their
annual report, that “ the fishermen have, in many cases,
been enabled, by the produce of their industry, to re-
place the small boats formerly used, by new boats of
much larger dimensions, and to provide themselves with
fishing niatertals of supertor value. ‘The number of
boats and of fishermen has been greatly increased,
while, by the general introduction of the practice of
eutting, a valuable source of employment has been
opened to thousands of poor people, who now annually
resort to the coast during the coutinuance of the fish-
ine-season, and there earn a decent Jivelihood in -the
operations of gutting and packing. New dwelling-.
houses and buildings, of,a superior construction, - for
the curing and storing of the herrings, are erecting at
almost every station along the coast ; while the demand
for home wood, for the manufacture of barrels, affords
a source of profit and employment to numbers of people
in the most inland parts of the country.” The cha-
racter of British cured herrings was at that time rising
both at home and abroad; and a number of fish-
merchants of Hamburgh had attested this fact in a
memorial, It is satisfactory to find that the fishery has
been constantly progressive for the last few years. In
1834 the number of barrels of cured herrings prepared
was 451,531, being the largest quantity yet cured in a
single year, and exceeding by upwards of 100,000
barrels the quantity cured when a bounty of 4s. per
barrel was allowed. In 1834 the exports amounted to
272,093 barrels, which is also the largest quantity
exported in any single year, and nearly double the
quantity exported when a bounty of 2s. 8d. per barrel
was paid on every barrel of cured herrings sent to
foreign countries. ‘These facts are not calculated to
bring the bounty system into favour again.
The increase in the herring-fishery is chiefly in Scot-
land, where, for many years, it was for the most part
confined to the coasts of Caithness and Sutherland ;
but about 1815 the herring-fishery was established on
the coasts of Aberdeenshire, Banffshire, Morayshire, and
Ross-shire. ‘The herrings on this part of the coast are
prepared for the West Indian, Irish and German mar-
kets, and the withdrawal of the bounty has not di-
THE PENNY. MAGAZINE.
[Fesruary 18, 1837,
Between one-
third and one-fourth of the herrings cured in Scotland
were prepared. at Wick, according to the returns of
1834 ; 58,275 barrels at Fraserburgh ; 36,855 in Shet-
land; 34,712 at Lybster ; 27,432 at Helmsdale; 20,561
at Rothsay ; 19,956 at Banff; 13,700 in the Orkneys,
and not more than 5238 in the Isle of Man. -In 1798
there were 80 boats employed in the Yarmouth fishery,
viz., from Lowestoff 24; Yarmouth 16; and York-
shire 40. In 1833 Mr. Thomas Hammond, of Yar-
mouth; stated before a Committee of the House of
Commons, that the nuinber of boats was then 100 sail,
and that during the herring-fishery between 40 and 50
sail were engaged from Yorkshire. The average burden
of these vessels was from 40 to 50 tons; aud including
the cost of supplying the Yorkshire boats with nets, it
was estimated that a capital of about 250,000. was
employed. Yarmouth owes its existence to the herring-
fishery, and a herring fair was held there at a very
remote period. . This fair was regulated in the reign of
Edward ILI. by a statute called ‘ the Statute of Her-
rings.” Vessels coming from any part of England
may fish upon the coast, and bring their herrings into
Yarmouth without paying any dues or toll. In 1826,
exclusively of the vessels and mariners employed in the
deep-sea herring, cod and ling fisheries, 10,365 boats,
manned by upwards of 44,000 fishermen, were engaged
in the shore-curing department of the herring-fishery
at the various stations in Scotland and England. The
number of. other persons to whom this department of
industry gave employment exceeded 31,000, making
together a total of 75,041 individuals. The total quan-
tity of herrings cured in the above year was 379,233
barrels. In 1834 the number of barrels cured had
been. increased one-fourth, and employment was given
to 82,226 persons, viz., 49,212 fishermen and boys, who
manned: 11,284 boats; 1925 coopers; 23,972 men,
women, and children, in gutting, packing, re-packing,
and clearing and drying the fish; 7157 labourers,
besides 1831 curers, by whose capital the fishery is
carried on. In: 1826 the number of barrels cured at
sea was under 40,000; in 1834 the number was
36,615. The quantity of ‘netting exceeds 1,000,000
square yards. When the herring-fishery terminates,
most of these individnals, both fishermen and others,
are engaged in the cod, ling, and other fisheries. ‘The
above accounts, though taken from official documents,
cannot be implicitly relied on, as there is no legislative
enactment compelling the boats to be entered; and
probably the numbers may be under-stated. The her-
riug-fishery on the coast of Ireland was formerly con-
siderable, but it has declined from a variety of causes,
one of which is, that the fish do not resort to the coast
so much, and the fishermen are unable to fit out proper
boats to go-out to sea. The general state of the Irish
fisheries will be more conveniently noticed at another
opportunity.
NOTICE.
[It is the intention of the Society for the Diffusion of
Useful Knowledge to prepare a Manual for the Establish-
ment and Conduct of Mechanics’ Institutions, Workmen’s
Reading Rooms, and similar Establishments ; -and in order
to assist them in this task the Committee have obtained
from nearly Fifty Towns returns of the Institutions existing
in them, their Rules and Reports, a Catalogue of their
Books and Apparatus, and a Statement of the Number of
Members attending them, and of the Lectures and Classes.
The Committee would be glad to obtain similar information
from those places which have not already been good enough
to transmit it; and in the Catalogues of Books they would
be glad to have those indicated which are the most read.]
*,* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledze is at
59, Lincoln’s Inn Fields.
LONDON: CHARLES KNIGHT & CO., 22, LUDGATE STREET,
Printed by WILLIAM CLowes and Sons, Stamford Street,
HE PENNY MAGAZINE
OF THE
Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledze.
PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY.
{Fepruary 25, 1837.
_A LOOKING-GLASS FOR LONDON.—No. IV.
Tue Law Courts
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[Old Palace Yard, Westniinster Hall, and the Courts of Law. |
Tus law-courts are somewhat scattered about London.
The superior courts of common law and equity are in-
deed to be found together at Westminster Hall; and
their vicinity to the houses of the legislature, as well
as the hall itself, gives them a fitting air of propriety
and even of dignity. But, on the other hand, if the
attraction of a licence or a legacy induces the stranger
to inquire for the ecclesiastical courts, he must literally
search for Doctors’ Commons. - Both Westminster Hall
and Doctors’ Commons are in the neighbourhood of
our two great ecclesiastical edifices—the Abbey and St.
Paul’s. But even when the stranger is in St. Paul’s
churchyard, he must ask for Doctors’ Commons! He
must seek for it in those narrow streets that run down
the slope of the hill on which stands the mighty pile—
too near us, hemmed in, and clustered round, to make
us feel sufficiently the influence of masses of stone
heaped together by the hand of genius. Then the
Court of Bankruptcy must be sought for in Basinghall
Street in the “ city,” and the Court for the Relief of
Insolvents in Portugal Street, Lincoln’s Inn Fields.
The Courts of Requests—courts which can give sum-
mary relief in civil actions for small amount—are,
properly enough, distributed in different parts of Lon-
don. ‘These courts are interesting places—the vast
number of cases perpetually arising in such a popula-
tion as that of London fills them with business; and
not unfrequently, when the newspapers are not crowded
with graver matters, the reader must have smiled or
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laughed outright at the grotesque groupings of character
which reports of cases in these courts have presented.
The Marshalsea and Palace Courts are in Scotland
Yard, near Charing Cross. These courts have juris-
diction over all personal actions arising within the
verge of the palace—that is, within twelve miles of
Whitehall, excepting the “* city’ of London.
If we were to value Westminster Hall* merely from
the historical facts which are associated with it, these
alone would excite a strong feeling of gratification that
this venerable building was spared by the tire which
consumed the adjoining Houses of Parliament. Under-
neath this magnificent roof has been the homestead and
resting-place of English law for many centuries ;—here
a long line of monarchs have held their coronation-
feasts—one was here deprived of his crown, and an-
other been adjudged to the scaffold. Some of the most
interesting of the state-trials in our annals, both in
ancient and modern times, have been held here—trials
peculiarly remarkable from the rank and character of
the individuals whose fate they involved, and from the
creat national interests depending on their issues.
Here, before the “Court of the Lord High Steward
* Three different views of the exterior of’ Westminster Hall,
and a historical description of it, are given in the first volume of
the ‘Penny Magazine.’ The view which accompauies the present
article represents what is known by the name of “ Palace-Yard,”
being the site of Westminster Hall, the Law Courts, aud the
Houses of Parliament.
K
66
TIE PENNY MAGAZINE.
[Fesruary 25,
a
of England,”—the highest criminal judicature in the and common juries. The “city”? of London has the
realm, being in fact the House of Lords, during the
recess of Parliament, formed into a court of justice, .
assisted by the judges of the land—was arraigned the
fourth Duke of Norfolk, on the charge of attempting
to marry the Queen of Scots, and trying to overthrow
the power of Elizabeth ; and here also was tried one of
the most prominent men of the Elizabethan era, the
eallant, accomplished, but rash Earl of Essex. Later
times have witnessed it the scene of that extraordinary
event, the trial of Warren Hastings, and, still more
recently, that of Lord Melville.
But it is not alone from considerations connected
with the past that Westminster Hall is an object of
interest. ‘Here is the head and fountain of those ju-
dicial institutions under which England has shot up to
ereatness ;—institutions planned at a distant time, by
a rude people, under widely-different circumstances
from those in which we live ;—institutions which ad-
minister laws full of apparent anomalies, but. which
have furnished ‘the form and pattern of judicial institu-
tions now incorporated with the habits and feelings of
millions of people in some of the fairest parts of the
elobe. English forms of law and judicial adiministra-
tion prevail throughout a great nation, whose dominion
is stretching from the Atlantic to the Pacific Oceans—
they are to be found in our colonies in every latitude—
they are taking root in the empire rising in the southern
seas. Can we lightly estimate the -effect of such an
influence on the whole family of man? Could our
Saxon and Norman ancestors have foreseen that what
they adapted merely to the exigencies of their own
times would have been’the germ of such a fruitful tree ?
What a motley appearance the Hall must have pre-
sented when it was fitted up ‘with booths, in’some of
which law was administered, in others books and in
others articles of dress were sold! It‘is now a spacious
paved promenade, where suitors, ‘visitors, aud counsel
may be seen, during the sittings ‘of the courts, pacing
up and down, discussing the politics of the day,-or the
poiuts of some law case. ‘It is for many, as the French
term a similar scéne, la salle-des pas perdus, the hall of
lost footsteps. ‘The courts occupy a range of building
which has been raised on the north side of the Hall,
civing both the appearance of being one structure.
There are private entrances’ for the judges,‘ by:a ‘series
of doors opening from the street, -but the public ‘en-
trances into the courts are from the interior of the Hall.
The first three courts as we enter the Hall are, the
King’s Bench, the Common Pleas, and the’ Exchequer.
These courts issued out of one, and, in the lapse of
time, they have come to be, for ‘nearly all! practical
intents and purposes, one conrt again. The King’s
Bench, indeed, retains a portion of its ancient supe-
riority in its' jurisdiction over alf inferior tribunals—it
can bring'a criminal from any inferior court in England
into its own, and there deal with him as law and justice
may demand. ‘In the Excheqner also—the judges of
which are termed Barons, ‘and the chief the Lord Chief
Baron—all revenue cases are still tried; but the great
mass of all civil suits may be brought indiscriminately
into any of the three courts, and the fifteen judges (until
1830 they were only twelve) are the head exponnders
and- administrators of the statute and common law,
dispensing it in their courts at Westminster Hall, and
over the entire kingdom in their circuits.
There are four terms in each year during which the
courts @re open at Westminster Hall. These are Hilary,
Easter, Trinity, and Michaelmas terms—the time and
duration of which the reader will find by referring to
an almanac. ‘The three courts—Kineg’s Bench, Com-
mon Pleas, and Exchequer—determine questions of
law during term time. The sittings after term are
generally employed in deciding causes before special
privilege of having its nisi prius, or jury, cases tried at
Guiuldhall.
The “ High Court-of Chancery” is divided into three
courts—the court of ‘the Lord Chancellor, the court of
the Master of the Rolls, and the court of the Vice-
Chancellor. “ The special interference of the king, as
the fountain of justice, was frequently sought against
the decisions of the courts of law, where they worked
injustice; and also in matters which were not cogniza-
ble in the ordinary courts, or in which, from the main-
tenance or protection afforded to his adversary, the
petitioner was unable to obtain redress. ‘The jurisdic-
tion with which the Chancellor is invested had its origin
in this portion of discretionary power, which was re-
tained by the king on the establishment of courts of
justice. The exercise of those powers in modern times
is scarcely, if at all, less circumscribed and hemmed in
by rule and precedent than the strict jurisdiction of the
courts of law*.” The decisions of former Lord Chan-
cellors, and the customs and practices which sprung up
in the courts, have created a body of equity law in very
much the same way that the body of the common law
was created. And thus the law of Eneland is divided
ito two great branches of common law and equity law,
each having their forms, rules, and precedents, accord-
ing to which the judges regulate their decisions. ‘The
| Court of Exchequer has what is termed its -equity side
ee ae a Rp I a Pe" I
re Ag FE Sr ee TT LT I
ennai
as well as its common law side. |
Next in rank to the Lord Chancellor in the Court of
Chancery is the Master of the Rolls; he is chief of-the
masters in Chancery, and derives his name from.being
keeper or guardian of the Chancery rolls or records.
During term time the Chancery judges sit at West-
minster ‘Hall; on other occasions, the Lord:Chancellor
in Lincoln’s Inn Hall, the Vice-Chancellor-in a court
near it, the Master of the -Rolls in his court in Chan-
cery Lane, and one of the barons of the Court of
Exchequer, as an equity judge, in Gray’s.Inn ‘Hall T.
The Court of Bankruptcy was established in the
beginning of-the reion of the present king. Its name
implies the nature of its business. -It is subdivided into
three courts—the Court of ‘Review, with a chief judge
and two puisne judges. The commissioners of bank-
ruptcy are six in number.
The court for the relief of insolvent debtors is pre-
sided over by three judges, termed’ commissioners, one
of whom sits twice a week in London the whole year
through, and they also make circuits over England.
We have hardly space to enter into any detail re-
spectinge the Ecclesiastical Courts. ‘Their jurisdiction
takes copnizance of wills, and administration of personal
property—of' causes for separation‘and nullity of »mar-
riage, of suits respecting church-rates and churches, of
cases respecting church discipline, connected either
with clergy or laity, &c. &c. The advocates practising
or presiding in these courts are an incorporated body,
forming’a college, the numbers being limited. They
are all Doctors of -Law. ‘A. proctor is an ecclesiastical
attorney or solicitor.
In Doctors’ Commons:is also the Admiralty Court.
Its criminal business is given to the Central Criminal
Court, but it ‘has an extensive jurisdiction in civil
admiralty causes.
The courts of law cannot be dismissed without
sliehtly noticing the metropolitan prisons ‘for debtors
connected with them. ‘The King’s Bench Prison lies
across the river in Southwark. It occupies amextensive
space of grounds; and the tall ‘and dusky walls that
surround it give it a very gloomy external appearance.
But inside it has the appearance of being not a prison,
but one of those prison-looking: places, a fortified town.
* “Penny Cyclopedia,’ article Curancentor.
T See Inns of Court, ‘Penny Magazine,’ No. 208.
-1837.] |
It contains shops, stalls, and public-houses, for the sup-
ply of its somewhat numerous population. ‘This prison,
and that of the Fleet, may be termed the head prisons
of England for the incarceration of debtors—for debtors
can procure themselves to be removed (at some ex-
pense) from any other prison to either of these two.
Each of these also has a certain space outside the prison,
under the name of-Rules, in which debtors ‘who can
afford to pay certain fees, and give security, are allowed
to reside—and it may be easily imagined that those
Who can do so are not always to be found precisely
within the precincts of the Rules. It has been lone
a maxim of the common law that a debtor must answer
with his body, if he cannot or will not with his purse—
but we are doubtless drawing nearer to a better time,
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
and to a more humane—nay, to a. more self-interested |
application and understanding: of the law of debtor and
creditor. The King’s Bench Prison is the place of
confinement where the Court of King’s Bench has been
in the habit of committing its prisoners, such as those
oulty of ‘contempt’ towards it, and many of those
who have been sentenced by it to imprisonment. for
libel. ‘
The Marshalsea, or Palace Court, has also a prison
for debtors in Sonthwark, which, until within these few
years past, was a shocking place of confinement. It
has been re-edified and improved.
The Fleet Prison lies in Farringdon Street, near the
bottom of Ludgate Hill. This prison was erected in
the place of the Old Fleet Prison, which was destroyed
in the Riots of 1780, and which was so notorious for
its “Fleet marriages.” The Fleet is the prison to
which the Courts of Chancery, Common Pleas, and
\ixchequer, commit for ‘‘ contempt.”
One word about “ spunging-houses.” Formerly,
when prisons were altogether horrid places, and debtors
and criminals were confined together in Newgate,
persons arrested for debt, who shrunk from the con-
tamination of a prison, and had some prospect of
speedily coming to an arrangement with their creditors,
if they could afford it, remained in the custody of the
sheriff's officer, at his house. ‘The oppressive exactions
practised by these persons on their unfortunate prisoners
originated the name of “ spunging-houses.” ‘They
have of late years been put under salutary regulations.
THE AMERICAN MANNER OF MOVING
HOUSES.
{From a Correspondent.]
In England we consider it no trifling affair to remove
our household establishments, when circumstances ren-
der it necessary for us to do so; whereas our Trans-
Atlantic brethren, the Americans, set about removing
their houses (goods and chattels included), without
considering it matter of difficulty or hardship. ‘To be
sure, their buildings (I do not include those of their
older towns and cities) are less substantial and solid
than ours; for a frame of moderate-sized posts and
scantlings, lined within and without with thin pine
boards, is not quite so. ponderous an affair as a build-
in@ where the walls are of massive stone, nor even as
one of bricks and: mortar.
Before I proceed to explain the nsual plan adopted
for removing buildings, I will relate some circumstances
connected with a frame-building with which I was
acquainted, and which constituted a fraction of the
capital of the county in which I resided. While the
town was but in its infancy, an acquaintance of mine
built a “* store” (shop for gweneral merchandise, with
eranaries, &c., overhead), in which he commenced the
business of a general merchant. In a few years the
‘population increased, and the town became much en-
larged; and so did tne business of my acquaintance,
a eps el SS A San) UR, IE “PPS
07
inasmuch that he found, or fancied, his original store
too small for him. In this dilemma what was to be
done? The difficulty was soon solved; he sold his
store, to be taken off the premises, for he wanted the
ground to build a larger one upon., A dress-maker
was the purchaser, who removed it about eighty yards
along the same street, and had it fitted np to suit
her line of business; at the same time converting
a portion of it into apartments to dwell in. How
long she occupied it I do not precisely recollect ;
but, quitting that part of the country for a few years,
when I returned and looked for my old acquaintance,
the milliner’s store, nothing like it was to be seen. I
repaired to the original owner, and inquired if some
calamity had befallen it, or if it were still on the move ?
** I euess,” rephed he, *‘ that you will find it in Centre
Avenne, a little below the Washington Hotel. It is
now the property of Mr. D—, my old clerk, who has
converted it into a ‘ erocery.’” And, to be sure, there
it was! and one of the greatest nuisances of the place;
for Mr. D—’s grocery was the rendezvous of all the
lazy, drunken vagabonds connected with the town and
neighbourhood. Ido not remember how many years
it continued the resort of the dissolute ; butit.was, after
the temperance societies had made some progress in
that part of the country, that, happening one day to be
in the town, I observed more bustle than ordinary in
the vicinity of Mr. D—’s grocery, and upon inquiring
what was going on, I learned that the grocery was
once more on the move; that it had been purchased
by a stanch temperance man, a boot and shoe-maker ;
and that he was removing it into the vicinity of his own
dwelling-house: not only into another street, but to a
distant part of it; and there I left it when I removed
from that district some years afterwards—one part of -it
occupied by half-a-dozen cobblers’ stalls, and the other
part a well-supplied shoe and leather store.
I was once present at the removing of a large grist-
mill, containing four pair of mill-stones, besides all the
machinery and apparatus necessary for the purpose of
carrying on the manufacture of flour for exportation.
It was a stout frame-building, of the dimensions or fifty
feet by forty, and four stories high. After it had been
some time in operation, it was ascertained that in dry
seasons the situation did not command a sufficient head
of water; but, as the stream had a considerable fall, it
was obvious that if the mill were placed 100 yards fur-
ther down, the desired fall would be obtained. ‘To
effect this the owner of the mill agreed with an old
Yankee to remove it, just as it stood, to its new site, for
the sum of 100 dollars (a little over 202. sterling), a
small sum apparently for such an undertaking ; for if
the building or machinery sustained any damage, the
persou undertaking the removal was to make it good.
Large frame-bnildings, like the one in question, require
stout timbers for their posts and beams; the principal
timbers in this mill were from twelve to fifteen inches
square. Besides the four bottom beams or sills which
rested on the stone foundation, there were three others
| of a similar size mortised into the end ones, and equi-
distant from each other; so that there were, in fact,
five transverse beams on which the lowest floor rested.
The first thine to be done was the laying down of
wooden ways, upon which the building was to travel
upon rollers; to accomplish which, five rails of squared
timber, at distances asunder exactly corresponding with
the foundation-timbers of the mill, were properly placed
and secured, in lines extending to where a new foun-
dation of stone had been already prepared. After this
the building was raised perpendicularly, by the means
of wedges of hard timber, about eight inches, in order
that eight-inch wooden rollers might be placed under
the several lower beams and sills; which having been
done the wedges were withdrawn, and the building then
K 2
68
rested upon the rollers.
timber, each about five feet long, and perforated near
each end with suitable holes, for the reception of hand-
spikes or levers, to be used by the persons employed in
the removal of the building. Under each beam were
placed four rollers, so that under the whole five beams
twenty were employed. I should have remarked that
it was necessary to remove the bottom floor-planking,
in order that the persons employed at the rollers placed
under the middle or inner beams might be enabled to
work them. ‘Two persons were appointed to each
roller, one to each end; and everything having been
properly fixed, and all the forty men at their respective
posts, the old Yankee captain gave the word “ move,’
when the fabric instantly began to advance on its
wooden ways.
THE PENNY MAGAZINE
{[Fesruary 26.
The rollers were made of hard | they were straightway carried forward and placed under
the extreme forepart of the beams they severally be-
longed to. It was found that the power of the forty
men stationed at the rollers with their handspikes or
levers, was amply sufficient to keep the building in
motion without any extraordinary exertion being called
for; and as there intervened no obstacle in the distance
the mill had to travel, in about three hours it had
advanced to its destined resting-place. Having safely
arrived there, wedges were agai employed in order to
free the rollers, and to settle it gradually on its new
foundation. ‘The whole undertaking was completed
without the slightest injury occurring to any part of
the building or machinery; not a square of @lass was
broken or cracked in any of the score of windows that
As soon as the rearmost rollers were | belonged to various parts of it; not a pin or a nail was
set at liberty in the rear of the advancing building, | sprung or droken.
BRITISH FISHERIES.—No. IV.
THE PILCHARD.,
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[Pilchard.—C/upea pilchardus. |
Tue pilchard bears a strong resemblance to the herring,
but instead of being found on every part of the coasts
of Britain, like that fish, its geographical distribution is
exceedingly limited, and in this country it is only found
in any great numbers on the shores of Devon and
Cornwall, chiefly from Dartmouth to Padstow, round
the Land’s End. It requires a warmer and more
genial latitude than the herring, and though occasion-
ally taken at Yarmouth, and as far north as Dublin
and Belfast, yet these are only individuals separated by
accident from the great shoal. The Bay of Biscay is a
place to which they resort, and on the southern coast
of Ireland a tolerably flourishing fishery existed about
seventy years ago. ‘The pilchard is not unknown in
Scotland; it is there called the gipsy herring. The
south-western coast of England, stretching further
south than any other part of the United Kingdom,
is, however, their most favoured haunt; and_ indi-
viduals are there to be found at all seasons of the
year. If the causes which regulate their movements
were perfectly understood, there can be no doubt
but that their habits would be found directed by as
wonderful a degree of instinct as that which governs
other portions of the unreasoning creation, with whose
history we are better acquainted. Mr. Yarrell, in his
interesting account of the pilchard (vol. ii. p. 96), says,
— Jn January they keep near the bottom, and are
chiefly seen in the stomachs of ravenous fishes; in
March they sometimes assemble in schulls (shoals),
aud thousands of hogsheads have in some years been
taken in seans, but this union is only partial and not
permanent ; and it is not until July that they regularly
and permanently congregate so as to be sought after
by the fishermen.” The pilchard sometimes spawns in
May, but the usual season is October. Pennant stated
that their winter retreat was the same as the herring,
and that the same impulses brought them from thence
to our shores; but it is now clear that their migration
consists merely of a chanee from the deep sea to the
shore, and again from the shore to the deep adjacent sea.
Their course generally appears to be from the west,
but, like the herring, the pilchard is very uncertain in
its movements. Dr. Forbes* says,—*‘* Both the period
of their arrival and departure, and also the course they
take, is uncertain, and have varied greatly in different
years. Fifty or sixty years since they remained on the
coasts till Christmas, and the fishermen were engaged
in their capture five or six months, but now the season
does not last more than two or three months. Some
years ago, indeed, they either did not appear at all on
the Cornish coast, or only for a few weeks, or even days.
In former years they also appeared first on the northern
coasts of Cornwall, towards the east, from whence they
proceeded westward round the Land’s End, and then
eastward along the southern coasts. Lately, however,
they have, on some occasions, scarcely touched on the
northern coasts, but have made thieir first appearance
on the eastern parts of the south coast.” The pilchard
measures from nine to eleven inches in length; it con-
tains more oleaginous matter than the herring; the
body is thicker and rounder, and less compressed ; thie
under jaw shorter; the scales larger, and forming a
closer texture than those of the herriag, which drop off,
and are smaller and thinner; the line of the abdomen
smooth. The upper part of the pilchard is a bluish
green ; the belly a silvery white ; head golden-coloured
yellow; tail dusky. The pilchard has no teeth, in
which respect it differs from the herring. The dorsal
or back fin of the pilchard being placed in the centre of
eravity, the body will rest in an exact horizontal po-
sition if taken up by this part, whereas in the herring
the dorsal fin being to the right of the centre, the fish
on being taken up by it will not remain equipoised,
but the head drops downwards.
The stations of the pilchard-fishery “are St. Ives, on
* ‘Medical Topography of the Land’s End,’ 1833.
1837.]
the northern coast of Cornwall; Mount’s Bay, on the
southern coast; thence eastward at St. Mawes, at Me-
vagissey, and to the coasts of Devon. ‘There are two
modes of fishing, one with seans and the other with
drift nets. ‘The former requires a considerable capital :
about eighteen men are employed in conducting the
operations of a single “‘ concern,” and three boats are
necessary; while the drift nets are managed by from
four to six men in a single boat. The sean fishery is
carried on near the shore, the drift fishery further at
sea; and while the former supplies the foreign demand,
the latter is chiefly engaged in providing for the imme-
diate consumption of the home market, as from the
manner in which the fish are taken they are not so well
adapted for curing as those caught by the seans.
The nets used in the sean fishery are, a stop-sean,
with lead weights at the bottom, and corks at the top
to keep it floating, which costs between 300/. and 4001.,
being about a quarter of a mile in leneth and nearly
100 feet in depth; and a tuck-sean, which is made with
a hollow in the middle, is one-half the size in length
and eighteen feet deeper than the larger net: it costs.
abont 100/. Two boats, of about fifteen tons each, are
used, in one of which the stop-sean is carried; the
other, which carries the tuck-sean, is required to assist
in inclosing the fish, and is called the “‘ volyer,” sup-
posed to be a corruption of “follower ;” the smaller boat,
of from two to four tons burthen, is used to carry the
men to and from the shore, besides being useful when
the men are engaged with the nets; it is called a
“lurker,” and the crew consists of the master-seaner
with three of the men, while the remainder are equally
divided between the other two boats. The most favour-
able place for the sean-fishing is a fine sandy bay. ‘The
fishermen commence their labours towards evening,
proceeding at that time to the place which the fish may
be expected to visit, and there they cast anchor. Should
a shoal make its appearance, the master-seaner and his
‘men are instantly on the alert, in order to ascertain the
extent of the shoal, and the nature of the ground over
which it is passing. As soon as the shoal is within the
depth of the sean, the boat containing it is rowed round,
and when they have reached the proper place, the three
men whose business it is to attend to the net heave it
out with the greatest dispatch. ‘This great body of net,
rope, corks, and lead, is thrown into the sea in less than
five minutes. During the whole of these proceedings
the movements of the fishermen are directed by signs
from the master-seaner in the lurker, as the pilchard is
easily alarmed. What follows is taken from Mr. Yar-
rell’s work :—‘* The sean at first forms a curved line
across the course of the fish; and while the two larger
boats are employed in warping the ends together, the
lurker’s station is in the openings, wliere, by dashing the
water, the fish are kept away from the only place of
escape. When the sean is closed and the ends are
laid together, if the body of the fish be great, and
the sea or tide strong, the net is secured by heavy
grapnels, which are attached to the head-ropes by haw-
sers. When the evening has closed in, and the tide is
low, they proceed to take up the fish. For this purpose,
leaving the stop-sean as before, the volyer passes within
it, and lays the tuck-sean round it on the inner side;
it is then drawn together so as gradually to contract
the limits of the fish, and raise them from the bottom.
When disturbed they become exceedingly agitated ;
and so great is the force derived from their numbers
and fear, that the utmost caution is used lest the net
should either sink or be burst. When the tuck-sean is
thus gradually contracting, and the boats surround it;
stones suspended from ropes, called minnies, are re~
peatedly plunged into the water at that part where
escape alone is practicable, until the fish then to be
taken are supported in the hollow or bunt of the sean.”
“THE PENNY MAGAZINE,
' 69
It is stated that it 1s not more difficult to take a thousand
hogsheads of fish than to take a single hogshead ; and
as the movements of a large body are slower than a
smaller, the difficulty is probably less. Instances have
occurred in which 2000 hogsheads, or about 5,000,000
fish, have been caught at once: but when a very large
number are caught, only so many are taken out of the
net at one time as the boats can conveniently carry, and
a week or ten days may elapse before the whole are
secured. By this arrangement the process of salting or
curing 1s properly performed ; whereas, if the whole
were compelled to be brought on shore at once, many
would be spoiled, from the impossibility of getting
through the work in proper time. The fish are brought
to the surface by a small net, and two men with a large
basket bale them out of the net into the boat. When the
fishery is carried on beyond the usual distance from the
coast, as at Mount’s Bay, the fish are conveyed to thie
shore in small sloops of a few tons’ burthen. In ordinary
cases it is conveyed by the sean boats. At St. Ives
huers are employed, though at all the other stations
they have been discontinued. ‘The huers, according to
Mr. Yarrell, are ‘“‘men posted on elevated situations
near the sea, who by various concerted signals made
with a bunch of furze in each hand, direct the fishermen
how best to surround a schull of fish.” They perform
the part which is now assigned to the master-seaner in
the lurker. Im some seasons there are what is called
the first and second catch; the latter being at a period
when the season has in other years generally termi-
nated.
The fishing by drift or driving-nets is generally carried
on in common fishing-boats, manned by four men and
a boy. These boats have generally either lug-sails or
sprit-sails; and there are often as many as twenty nets
to each boat, the whole of which being joined together
extend three-fourths of a mile in length, though they
may be much shorter,—the excellence and superiority of
the tackle depending upon the extent of the fisberman’s
capital.
The fish, on being brought to the shore, are at once
taken to the cellars or storehouses, where they are
salted and ranged in heaps, from five to six feet in
height, and in some instances ten or twelve feet wide.
After remaining in this state for five or six days, they
are packed into hogsheads. By the application of a
powerful lever at the top of the hogshead, the oil is
extracted, and runs out of the casks through holes
made for the purpose. The pressing continues for
abont a fortnight. The refuse salt, which 1s mixed
with the scales and blood.of the fish, is sold as manure
to the farmers, and is applied with great advantage to
the land. It is estimated that the refuse of each pil-
chard will manure one square foot of land.
About ninety years ago the pilchard-fishery was
carried on in Bantry Bay, Ireland, but the French
interfered with it, using large drift nets, which prevented
the fish coming into the smaller bays, and thereby in-
juring the native sean fishermen, who retaliated by de-
stroying the French nets during the night. . The pilchard-
fishery is not now pursued on the southern coasts of
Ireland: The fish do not resort there in sufficient num-
bers; and if they did, enterprise’ and capital would
probably be wanting to establish the sean fishery. _
“It is computed that 48 hogsheads of pilchards will
yield 252 gallons of oil. . In 1801 a tun of this oil was
worth from 20/. to 251., but is now of much less value.
Five bushels of salt, of 841bs. each, are required in
curing: one hogshead of pilchards, which contains about
3000 fish, and weighs between five and six hundred-
weight. A stock of 3000 bushels is the average
consumption of salt by a single sean in a favourable
season.
70
ORDERS OF KNIGHTHOOD.
(Continued from No. 308, ]
Havine given a general view of what chivalry was, we
propuse now to give some historical particulars respect-
ing the more remarkable of those orders of knighthood
which the spirit of chivalry produced. Before doing
so, however, the following list of existing orders, whe-
ther they have descended from chivalric times, or are
of modern creation, is presented. It will be useful for
reference, as well as exhibiting at a glance the extent
and nature of an influence which still operates, though
the state of things which produced it has long since
passed away. Modern orders of knighthood are, in-
deed, little more than mere decorative associations, re-
warding its members with stars and ribands; and they
have been multiplied to an extent which appears Judi-
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
crous. But the principle which upholds them ts vital,
. Wh
Country. Name, Wnnied. Founder,
Enauanp. . The Garter . . 1350 Edward III. . .
—~ The Bath. «+ . 1399 HenryIV. .
SCOTLAND The Thistle 540 James VY... .
IRELAND. . St. Patrick . . 1783 George III.
HANOVER Guelphic Order . 1815 George lV. .. .,
Ionian Is- St.MichaelandSt. 1818 Ditto . . :
LANDS. George.
-fested.
[Fesruary 25,
and belongs to human nature—the desire of distinction,
-and the wish to reward and be rewarded. Our objec-
tion can only he to the form in which this is mani-
Some of the orders have more substantial re-
wards than mere decorations attached to them. ‘The
Teutonic Order, for instance, still retains, in Austria, a
portion of the large possessions with which it was once
endowed; so do one or two others; the members of
several continental orders receive annual pensions ;
and admission to others, though not immediately pro-
ductive of profit, entitles to privileges which may lead
to it, or gives a title to take a certain rank in society.
The following list is compiled partly from ‘* Collec-
tion Historique des Ordres de Chevalerie Civils et Mili-
taires, par A.M. Perrot. 4to. Paris, 1820; from the
‘Almanach de Gotha’ for 1837; and compared with
Gottschalck’s ‘ Almanach der Ritter-Orden,’ 3 vols.
Leips., 1817—19, Svo.:—
REMARKS.
The statutes were remodelled by Henry VIII.
has descended regularly to our time.
Was revived by George J., in 1725, and remodelled and ex-
tended in 1815, by George IV ., the (then) Prince Regent.
Revived by King James II. in 1687, and egain by Qucen
[ Anne, in 1703.
To commemorate the deliverance of Hanover.
Founded after the Ionian Islands, by the treaty of 1815,
were erected into an independent state under the pro-
tection of Great Britain.
The order
The Orders of the Knights Templars (which still exists), the Knights of Malta, and the Teutonic Order, cannot pro-
perly be assigned to any particular country.
They were founded in the twelfth cenfury.—(See the listory of the
two first in the fifth volume of the ‘ Penny Magazine.’) The Teutonic Order, instituted in 1190, was a German
one, and its history is very interesting.
Austria. . TheGoldenFleece. 1430 . .«. .. ,
Maria Theresa. .
Pimeoicphtiies & .
1757
1764
Maria Theresa .
bitte “, <. =
—— Order of Leopold . 1808 FrancisI.. . .
oa Tron Crown. . . 1805 Napoleon. . .
—: Bligabeth Theréar. WAU... CetC«s
— The Starry Cross. 1688 Empress Eleonora.
%
it now exists principally in Austria.
On the marriage of Philip, Duke of Burgundy, with Isabella
of Portugal.
Named in honour of the Empress Maria Theresa.
Named in honour of Stephen, the first Christian King of
Hungary.
Named after his father, Leopold II.
Adopted and remodelled by Francis II. in 1816.
Founded by Elizabeth, widow of Charles VI., and remo-
delled in 1771 by Maria Theresa.
This is a female order. It was founded to commemorate
what was supposed to be a miraculous event—the pre-
servation of a supposed fragment of the true cross during
a fire. The reigning empress is always grand mistress
of the order, as the representative of the foundress.
There are three orders in this State: —Order of Fidelity, 1715, remodelled in 1803; Military Merit, 1807;
BAvARIA . Satltibemt. @. . M44 yo 2 ee eee
wt. Geerzes . ~ 1729 Cirtrles d’Alberg .
Maximilian Joseph 1806 Maximilian Joseph
Civil Merit. . lseeeitor, . om.
St. Michael . 1693 Joseph Clement .
Order of Theresa. 1827 Theresa . . .
Elizabeth . . . 1766 ElectressElizabetl
Augusta.
Lion . .« «. « 1768 Charles Theodore.
Betaium. . Order of Leopold . 1832 Leopold . . .
Brunswick . Henry the Lion . 1834 Duke William. ..,
DenmMaRK . The Elephant. . 1693 Christian V. . .-
|
Hessr, Elec-
torate.
rl!
.—_
|
Royal Order of
Louis.
Dannebrog. . .
St. Michael.
Holy Ghost.
Stelews « «4
Military Merit. .
St. Hubert. a) &
Legion of Honour.
Cross of July .
Golden Lion .
Military Merit. .
Tron Helmet . .
1827
1693
. 1469
- 1578
1693
1759
1416
1802
1830
- 1770.
1769
1814
ans bees & «
AOUTSMRM oo. le
Henry III.
Louis X1V.
Louis XV. . .
Napoleon. . .
Louis Philippe.
Frederick II...
Frederick II...
William I, ;
and the Lion of Zahringen, 1812.
To commemorate a victory won on St. Hubert’s day by
Girard V., Duke of Juliers and Berg. Revived in 1709.
This order claims origin from the twelfth century, but the
[date is uncertain. It was revived in 1729.
To reward services rendered in a civil capacity, as distin-
Remodelled in 1812. [guished from military.
Instituted to reward such as shall have passed fifty years
with credit in the public service—civil, military, or eccle-
Queen of Bavaria—female order. [siastic.
A female order.
Extinguished by Maximilian Joseph in 1808.
To reward services rendered to the country.
This order claims from the twelfth century. Some histo-
rians date it in 1458. Christian V. revived and altered it.
This order was first instituted by Waldemar IT. in 1219,
Revived in 167! by Christian V., but its statutes bear
date in 1693. Frederic VI. remodelled this order in 1808.
The ancient orders of France were all suppressed during
the first Revolution. This was revived by Louis XVIII.
For Protestants. Re-established in 1814,
Re-established in 1816. |
Ratified by Louis XVIII. in 1814.
To commemorate the Turee Days of 1830.
Extended in 1816 by William I.
Until 1820 it was termed the Order of Military Virtue.
1837.]
Country.
Hesse, Grand
Duchy.
HOLLAND. .
Lucca. .
PARMA ...
PERSIA . .
PORTUGAL ,
EES
SS
a
— ES
RoMAN STAT*
Russia, with
POLAND.
a ee
a
SARDINIA. .
SAXONY .
———- =e
SAXE-WEI-
MAR.
SAxXg-ALTEN-
BURG, ' Co-
BOURG, &e,
SPAIN. .« «&
rene
Name.
Order of Louis.
Military Order.
The Lion é
Cross of St.George
Constantine
The Sun and Lion.
Order of Christ
[ Sword.
St. James of the
Order of Avis .
Tower and Sword .
The Immaculate
Conception.
mr isabella. . ..
Den Pedro. . .
Black Eagle
Red Eagle. . .
Order of Merit. .
St. John of Jeru-
salem.
Order of Louisa
Irone@ross. .
Order of Christ
Golden Spur
St. Andrew. .
St. Catherine .
St. Alexander
Newski.
White Eagle .
St.George. . .
St. Wladimir...
St:Amme ...
St. Stanislaus. .
Military Merit .
The Annunciation.
St. Maurice and
St. Lazarus.
Military Order of
Savoy.
Civil Order. .
Crown of Saxony .
Military Order of
‘St..Henry.
Civil Merit.
Order of Vigilance,
or White Falcon.
Ducal Order of the
Ernest Line.
St. James of the
Sword.
CM@lamtaya . . -
Aleantara . ,
Jesus Christ and
St. Peter.
The Golden Fleece
Our Lady of Mon-
tesa,
When
Founded,
. 1807 Grand Duke, Louis
I
1815
1815
1833
1190
1808
1317
1170
1162
1459
1818
1804
1826
1701
1734
1740
1812
1814
1813
1319
1559
1698
1714
1722
1705
1769
1782
1735
1765
1791
1409
1434
1815
. 1831
1807
1738
, 1815
1732
1833
1170
1158
1156
1216
1317
THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 71
Founder.
Willliam I.
inrles naiiaiclh :
Feth Aly Shah .
Denys . .
Alphonso V. . .
Salm Widnes .
Charlotte de: Bour-
bon, Q.of Portugal
Don Pedro.
Frederic'I. .
Frederic IT. .
Frederic William
IL],
Ditto
Ditto.
Pope John XXII.
Pope Pius LV.
Peter!, . . -«
WDiGLO. . ue «6
Peter ' ° . e
Augustus. .
Catherine I. .
Ditto . . ?
Charles Frederic,
Duke of Holstein,
father of PeterIITI.
Stanislaus. . .
J
Amadeus-VIII. .
Dit he
Victor Emmanuel.
Ditto.
Frederic Augustus
Augustus ITT.
Frederic Augustus
Ernest Augustus.
St. Dominic - .-
James Il. =
REMARKS,
Named after the founder.
To reward civil merit only.
Phis order was formerly named the Angelic. It appears
_ to have been founded by the Greek Emperor Isaac Com-
nenus. After various changes it was settled in Parma.
Founded to reward foreigners who perform important ser-
_ vices to Persia; and given to ambassadors.
Founded after the suppression of the Templars. The order
_ became very rich about 1420, in the time of John I.
See SPAIN,
This order arose out of the Moorish wars. The name was
taken from the fortress or castle of Avis, given to the
order by Alphonso II.
Revived in 1808. , ,
Founded for the admission of both sexes.
Female order,
. Instituted when he was crowned first king of Prussia.
The Margrave George Frederic formed this order out of
a previous one which had been in existence from 1660.
Tt replaced a previous order founded in 1667.
To reward females who had given proof of their attachment
{to the country during the war
This order is not held in much estimation. There are two
other orders in Rome: one of St. John of Lateran, in-
stituted by Pius IV. in 1560; the other was founded by
Pope Gregory XVI., in 1831, and called after his name.
St. Andrew is the patron of Russia as well as of Scotland.
In honour of the Empress Catherine. The empress is
Grand Mistress. Both sexes.
In memory of the sainted warrior whose name the order
bears.
King of Poland, who it appears only remodelled the order.
It claims existence from the time of Ladislaus V., 1325.
For officers of the land and sea service.
Founded for the purpose of rewarding individuals of every
: [class.
Polish order. It was revived by the Emperor Alexander
in 1815, and made Russian in 1831.
Ditto. Its first establishment was of very short duration.
It was re-established in 1807, and made Russian in 1831.
This order claims to have been founded in the previous
century, and only remodelled in 1409.
‘This order was established by the founder, after his retire-
ment from active life, for the purpose of religious and
mental improvement. It fell into decay, but was revived
in 1572, for the purpose of opposing Calvin and the Re-
formation. It was confirmed by successive papal bulls.
The order derives an annual revenue of about 80004.
from its estates, which is regularly divided.
King of Poland.
To reward proofs of attachment afforded during the war,
Restored in 1815, by Charles Augustus.
This is a family order, established to the memory of the
direct line of Saxe-Gotha-Altenburg, which became ex-
tinct in 1825. :
St. James was the great patron of chivalry in the peninsula.
The origin of the order was to protect pilgrims to the
shrine of St. James of Compostella from the Moors.
Arose out of the Moorish wars,
Ditto.
Arose out of the crusade against the Albigenses. These
four Spanish orders were religio-military.
See AUSTRIA.
King of Aragon and Valencia.
72
Country.
SPAIN .
SS
Rs
a
ee
a Se
SWEDEN
VENEZUELA,
S. America.
WuRTEM-
RERG.
Name. —~
Royal order
Charles III.
Maria Louisa
of
St. Ferdinand .
St. Hermenegildo.
Royal American
Order of Isabella
the Catholic.
Maria Louisa Isa-
bella.
Seraphim
The Sword. .
Polaris. .
Masa . «.
Charles XITI. .
Crescent . . .
St. Stephen. .
St. Joseph. . .
White Cross .
St. Januarius .
St. Ferdinand and
Merit.
St. George of the
Reunion.
Francis J. . . .
Order of the Two
Sicilies.
Order ofthe Libera-
tors of Venezuela.
Golden Eagle .
Military Merit.
Civil Merit.
Crown of Wurtem-
berg.
Order of Frederic.
‘When
Founded.
1771
1 7 32
1811
1814
1815
1833
1748
1702
1759
1806
18:8
1830
THE PENNY MAGAZINE,
Founder.
Charles II]. .
Maria Louisa .
The Cortes. .
Ferdinand VII.
Dit> @e. «. .
® 6 e @ e 2]
Frederic I. .
Gustavus Vasa. .
Frederic I. . .
Gustavus III. .
Charles XIII.
Selim III. a,
Cosmo de Medicis.
Ferdinand III. .
Ditto.
Charles -
Ferdin and IV. @
Ditto.
Francis I.
Joseph Napoleon .
Bolivar.
Evrerd Louis. ,
Charles Eugene .
Frederic I.
William.
Ditto.
[Fepruary 25, 1837,
REMARKS,
Remodelled by Charles IV. in 1804.
Female order, in the nomination of the Queen of Spain.
Remodelled in 1816.
Reformed by Ferdinand VII. in 1815.
Exclusively designed to reward those who had exerted
themselves for the conservation of the Spanish American
possessions.
To commemorate the oath of fidelity taken to the infant
(Jueen of Spain.
This order is said by some authorities to have been founded
towards the end of the 13th or beginning of the 14th cen-
tury. In 1336 a great number of knights were created
at the coronation of Magnus Ericson. Frederic revived it.
Revived in 1748 by Frederic I.
The first date of this order is unknown. It was revived
only by Frederic. as
Instituted to reward persons distinguished in agriculture,
mines, commerce, &c. . . :
To recompense civil services.
To reward services rendered to the Porte by foreigners.
Remodelled in 1817...
Also remodelled in 1817. . -
Afterwards the Third of. Spain. It was instituted on
occasion of his marriage. ee
To commemorate his return to Naples in 1799. It was
- abolished in 1805 at Naples by Joseph Napoleon, but
[continued to subsist in Sicily.
Remodelled by Ferdinand IV. in 181 5, and replaced by the
Order of St. George of the Reunion in 1819.
It was called by him ‘ The Grand Chase;" but received
its present name in 1806 from Frederic I.
Remodelled in 1799 by Frederic I. - @
In the United States of America, the officers of the army, in 1783, at the close of the revolutionary war, formed an_order,
which they termed the “ Order of Cincinnatus.”
This ,order was disapproved of by the government, and was very
unpopular with the public, as containing the germ of hereditary distinctions. It was at length resolved that the
Society should not be suppressed, but that the decorations should not be worn in America, that no new. members
should be made, and that it should thus be ailowed to expire. This has already happened in several of the States.
-
{ Collar of the Order of the Garter. |
[Collar of the Order of the Bath. ]
[To be continued,]
*.* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at 59, Lincoln’s Inn Fields,
LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT & CO., 22, LUDGATE STREET.
Printed by Witiram CLowes and Sons, Stamford Street
Monthly Supplement of
THE PENNY MAGAZINE
OF THE
society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge.
315.]
January 31 to February 28, 1837.
A LOOKING-GLASS FOR LONDON.—No. V.
LEGISLATION AND GOVERNMENT.
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Tue ceremony of the king going in person to Parlia-
ment* to open the Session is an interesting one. The
king also generally closes the Session; and sometimes,
though very rarely, he goes down during its continuance
to give assent to bills, or for some special purpose ; but
the opening of the Session, being a time of greatest ex-
pectation, is generally regarded with most interest. The
approach of the king is announced by successive salutes
of ordnance in St. James’s Park and at the Tower. If
the weather is fine, there is usually a large assemblage
to witness the procession. ‘The interior of the House
of Lords presents a brilliant and animated scene, the
peers being in their robes, and a large number of
ladies being present, either peeresses in their own right,
or the wives, daughters, or other relations of peers.
There is a ceremony which the queen may be called
upon to perform at least once during her lifetime, should
the occasion arise. This is called “‘ the queen's curtsey.”
If Parliament make a separate provision for the queen,
in case the king dies before her, she goes down to the
%* The Houses of Parliament, which were destroyed by the fire
of 1834, were described in the volume of the ‘ Penny Magazine’
for that year, along with a sketch of the origin, history, and con-
stitution of Parliament itself. The views of the interior of both
Houses then given will convey some idea of their general ap-
pearance. It is unnecessary to describe the present temporary
houses.
Vou. VI.
[Parliament Street—Board of Trade—Treasury and Whitehall—The King g
oing to the House. |
House of Lords and makes her acknowledgments. The
last occasion on which this was done was in the year
1831. ‘“ Aug. 2. The House of Peers was this day
crowded to excess with peeresses and other ladies of
high rank, in order to witness the queen consort’s de-
meanour in testifying her acknowledgments for the
annual income of 100,000/., besides the residence in
Bushy Park, to be enjoyed by her for life after the de-
mise of the king, the bill for securmmg which had been
passed by their lordships on the 30th of July. At three
o'clock her Majesty arrived in her state carriage, and
was conducted by the Lord Chancellor and other great
officers of state to the robing-room, where her Majesty
awaited the arrival of the king. He arrived at about
half-past three, and was met and escorted in like man-
ner. Almost immediately after this, their Majesties
entered the House, where the king ascended the throne,
and the queen tock her seat on a chair of state on his
right, supported on each side by the ladies of her court.
The Commons, having been summoned, appeared at
the bar in large numbers, and the Speaker then ad-
dressed his Majesty, presenting him the Queen's Dower
Bill. The king bowed, and the clerk of the Parlia-
ments announced the Royal Assent in the usnal form.
Her Majesty then rose from her seat, and with great
| dienity and grace signified her acknowledgments to
L,
14
the Legislature by three several curtsies.
jesties then withdrew.”
Even during the session, there is, in the daytime,
an air of comparative quietness and repose about the
neighbourhood of the Houses of Parliament. Towards
the afternoon, if an important debate is expected, there
may be some appearance of bustle ; and if the session
be the first of a new Parliament, a a variety of com-
mittees are trying disputed elections, a number of
witnesses, some of them, doubtless, rejoicing in being
brought wp to see London at other people’s expense,
may “be observed swarming about the entrances. But
ordinarily all around seems “to speak more of times gone
by than of the turmoil of modern London. The compa-
rative stillness that prevails creates an agreeable im-
pression, especially after escaping from the noise of
some of the great thoroughfares. The Abbey imparts
a solemn orandenr to the place ; and though not far
from it there are scenes of squalid misery, and of more
offensive profligacy, which might dissipate some of the
finest visions that memory and imagination can conjure
up, still the visiter may pace along “the pavement, and
enjoy undisturbedly a retrospect of the rise and orowth
of constitutional liberty, from the time when the “Abbot
of Westminster expelled the “‘ rabble-rout” of the Com-
mous out of his chapter-house, tor brawling and conten-
tion, down to the present power and importanice of this
prime estate of the realm.
But we must not be deceived into the idea that
because the Houses do not sit in their legislative ca-
pacity till the afternoon, there is therefore no business
doing. The House of Lords may be sitting, exercising
its judicial functions ; and though there may only be
three or four law lords on the crimson-covered benches,
counsel may be speaking at the bar of the House on
some appeal case, involving great interests, or a large
amount of property. On these occasions the House
Their Ma-
is freely open to the public, like the courts of justice in _
Westminster Hall. Select committees, especially of the
House of Commons, may be busily engagéd in im-
portant invéstiwations of subjects connected with wreat
national interests; and a still larger number of cotn-
mittees are einployed in hearing evidence upon private
bills. Nearly all the local improveineiits of the coun-
try are thus brought before the cognizance of Parlia-
ment; and when creat interests até at stake, a8 in the
case of a railroad; the committee-rooms present a most
busy scene, where anxious witnesses, and more anxious
agents, are exercising the greatest watchfulness, and
displaying all the energy of “partisans. The reports of
committees are freqnently very valuable documents 3 in
fact, without their aid.many historical and topogra-
phical descriptions would he incomplete, and many
details respecting important branches of employment
unknown.
Nor must we think lightly of the duties of an actively-
employed member of the House of Commons during a
session—they are sometimes very severe. He has calls
upon his time in correspondence with his constituents,
and in presenting petitions: last session there were
nearly 6000 petitions presented to the House of Com-
mons, on various subjects, but chiefly of public import-
ance, and to these were appended upwards of a million
and a half of signatures. Then he may be appointed
on committees, sitting perhaps from ten or eleven
o'clock till three or four, no matter what time the
House may rise, whether it break up at twelve at night
or not till four in the morning. In some of these com-
mittees it is his duty to weigh the arruments of counsel
aud the testimony of witnesses, in order to enable him
to give his vote when the matter comes to a decision;
or he may have to draw out a report from a mass of
evidence and documents, or to deliberate it if drawn
out by another. To fill the post of a member of the
MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF
[FeBruary 28,
House of Commons with zeal and serviceable assiduity
requires considerable activity of mind, patience,. prese-
verance, and, above all, integrity.
Let us return to the subject of Private Bills, as an
illustration of the occupations which may call for the
time and attention of a Member. Great numbers of
applications are annually made to Parliament for leave
to introduce private bills. Certain regulations are laid
down by the House for the observance of the applicants.
At the beginning of each session a committee is ap-
pointed to see that these rules have been attended to.
If they have, the bills are introduced; and after pass-
ine through their stages of first and second reading,
they are each referred to select committees. <A few of
these bills are for strictly private and personal objects,
sales and improvement of estates, to effect divorces, or
to naturalize foreigners. But the majority of them are
venerally of a very public nature, though they are
called private because they are undertaken at the ex-
pense of individuals, companies, or municipal bodies,
to effect objects for their immediate and particnlar
benefit. Some of these bills may be for makine or
improving roads or railroads; others for building
churches, bridges, markets, court-honses, or gaols ;
watering, lighting, or paving towns; improving rivers,
cutting or mending canals, creatine docks, harbours,
and piers; incorporating insurance, gas, water, or
other companies, or increasing the powers of those
already existing. They all involve a vast outlay of
money, sometimes they interfere with many interests,
and they mostly require a minute investivation, to pre-
vent public or private wrongs. Say, for example, that a
railroad is proposed to be carried through the heart of
Eneland. Out of those whose property the line will
affect, there will naturally be many supporters and
many opponents, Thé various parties must therefore
be heard iii support br opposition; counsel, engineers,
arid slirveyors must be employed, and a great expense
eh Ped into, in order to enable the committee to form
a judgement. But even after all, though the committee
report favourably, the bill may be lost. Last year
(1836) there were 201 applications for private bills.
OF that number, 193 obtained their object, aud were
passed into acts of Parliament, the rest being either
abandoned, rejected, or withdrawn. Sixty-seven of the
successful applications were for roads, railways, canals,
and rivers; seventeen for harbours, piers, and docks;
and forty-five for the improvement of towns and dis-
tricts. The fees paid to: the different officers of the
House of Commons in 1832, on 153 private bills,
amounted to 14,5162.
There is some little difficulty now in gaining access
to the strangers’ gallery of the House of Commons.
Formerly it used to be by a member’s order, or by a fee
of 2s. 6d. to the door-keepers. The fee was abolished
last year as an objectionable thing, and the only way of
now procuring admission is by the order of a member.
But there are many who come to London during the
session, and, among other things, are anxicus to see a
sitting of the House, who do not know where to met an
order—they either are not acquainted with a member,
or dislike to ask. Nay, there are many living in London
similarly situated. Now, though members are usually
very polite and accommodating, even to strangers, a
better arrangement might, we think, be made. ‘This
is not, however, our province to discuss.
On entering the strangers’ wallery, we perceive hefore
us, at the other end of the House, over the Speaker's
chair, a little gallery for the reporters of the newspapers.
This accommodation was afforded on erecting the pre-
sent temporary house. What would Woodfall and Perry
have given to have been thus accommodated in the in-
fancy of reporting? Is the reader aware of the par-
ticulars of the strnegle of the press with the privileges
1537.]
of the House? They have been frequently recorded.
A century ago, when the ‘Gentleman’s Magazine’—
that most venerable of periodicals—was in its first
years of infancy, it ventured to peep into the House,
and give the public some brief hints of what was said
and done. But this was put a stop to. The public,
however, beginning: to relish periodical news, and espe-
cially having acquired a slight taste of parllamentary
reporting, were willing to receive more. ‘Their con-
ductors ran risks to supply the demand; but were
obliged to offer their contraband goods under fictitious
names. Even so great a man as Dr. Johnson was
employed in manufacturing the ‘ Debates in the Senate
of Lilliput: he received brief hints and scanty notes,
and then wrote the speeches, seasoning them with a
portion of his own eloquence. ‘Towards the end of
1770 a daring effort was made—a number of printers
broke through the privilege of the House, and boldly
printed its proceedings. ‘This created a great storm.
Lhe subject was taken np in the beginning of 1771;
eight printers of newspapers were ordered to attend at
the bar of the House, but they refused to obey: the
Serjeant-at-Arms was directed to take them into cus-
tody, but the Lord Mayor (Brass Crosbie) and two
aldermen, who. were sitting as police magistrates, re-
leased them, and bound them over to prosecute the
officers of the House for assault and wrongous impri-
sonment; for this the House sent the Lord Mayor and
one alderman to the 'Tower, and the clerk of the city,
being brought to the table of the House, was compelled
to tear out the leaves of his register which recorded
the decision of the magistrates. Yet, though appa-
vently defeated, the press had triumphed. From that
period the proceedings of the House have been regn-
larly published.
The- following anecdote, connected with the early
days of reporting, we know to be authentic :—For-
merly, in the House of Commons, the reporters for
the newspapers had no facilities for entrance into
tne gallery beyond those enjoyed by the public gene-
rally; and on days when an interesting debate was ex-
pected, they were frequently obliged to take their place
on the stairs early in the forenoon; and after standing
there for many hours, to depend for their chance of
eetting in upon a strugele with their competitors in
the crowd when the door was opened. Some thirty or
furty years ago there was a dark closet at the end of
the @allery, in which the more experienced of the re-
porters used to hide themselves during a division, so
as to he ready for the first rush when strangers were
‘e-adimitted. In this closet Mr. Woodfall, Mr. Perry,
and Mr. Lane (formerly editor of the ‘ British Press ’)
were once snugly ensconced. ‘The period of exclusion
was ione, and they beeuiled it by political discussion.
At last one of the party roared out, to the dismay of
the Speaker and the horror of the Serjeant-at-Arms,
““f say the ‘ Morning Post’ is in the pay of the French
Directory!” The culprits were brought to the bar of
the House, and a strict watch was in future kept on
the closet of refuge. At length the late Speaker, Mr.
Abbott, at a time when some repairs or alterations
were made in the House, caused a small room to be
set upart for the use of the reporters, and a door to be
struck out at the back of the gallery; whereby they
might at all times obtain admittance to the back seat,
which, although the most distant from the body of the
{{fonse, was the best for hearing. They are now, as
we have stated, accommodated in a little gallery at the
other end of the House, from the strangers’ gallery,
over the Speaker's chair.
If the visiter has entered the strangers’ gallery
without knowing the subjects on which the House will
proceed to business, und if he sits down, expecting, as
a matter of course, that there will be a erand oratorical
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
es = op
eel
a
ra,
display, a keen encounter of wit, and all the excitement
of a brilliant assembly, he will very frequently meet
with a complete disappointment. Even on what are
termed * field- nights,” patience is considerably tried.
If you cannot make interest to get introduced into the
reserved seats outside the bar, on the floor of the House,
and below the strangers’ gallery, you must then, 4f a
strong debate is expected, take your station at an early
hour on the gallery stairs, and wait with patience ;
you may be admitted when the Speaker is at prayers.
He, the chaplain, and the clerks are kneeling at the
table; there are but five or six members present; and
though the gallery is nearly crowded, and you have
secured a front seat, an apprehension steals over you
that the required number, forty, will not arrive in time
to make a house. But the members are dropping in;
the Speaker begins to count slowly and deliberately ;
he arrives at thirty-nine, and then takes the chair. The
debate, however, will not begin immediately. You
must wait two or three hours for that. In the mean-
time a variety of motions and business of a formal
natnre is gone through, the half of which only reaches
your ear. ‘here appears to be an apprehension that
a division will take place on some private bill—that
the words “Strangers, withdraw !” will be pronounced,
and that you will be dislodged from your position, -
which cost so much pains to secure. Bnt this passes
over, the candles are lighted, and the benches are be-_
oimning to be filled.
A inessage from the Lords! The form of proposing
and assenting to the adinission of the messenger is gone
through so quickly and so quietly as almost to escape
attention. Straightway a gentleman in full dress
emerges from beneath the gallery, where he has made
a profound bow; advancing to the middle of the floor,
he bows again; and on reaching the table he bows a
third time. On delivering ‘his message, he retreats,
walking backward with a dexterity that amuses the
stranger, and bows three times as he did on advancing.
This is the Usher of the Bluck Rod, come to summon
the Speaker and the House to hear the royal assent
oiven by commission to certain bills. The Serjeant-at- .
Arms, who is‘dressed with a bag-wig and sword by his
side, takes up the mace and marches before the Speaker ;
a few members follow, but the rest remain. Now the
Strangers pent up in the little eallery may avail them-
selves of their privileze—the Speaker and the mace are
gvoue, and there is therefore “‘ No House ;” they inay
stand up, stretch themselves, and talk, without fear of
a rebuke or a frown from the attendants. The Speaker
returns, takes the chair, the mace is laid on the table,
and he reports to the House the bills that have becoine
acts by receiving the final sanction of the legislature. °
On another occasion we may see the Serjeant-at-
Arms take up the mace, and go to meet two indivi-
duals in gowns and wigs, with whom he advances, all
three bowing as did the Usher of the Black Rod.
These are masters in Chancery, who are the usual ines-
sengers of the Honse of Lords, bringing down certain
bills to which the assent of the Commons ts requested.
The House is now crowded, and the member who
brings on the important subject of the evening rises to
make his statement. His Majesty’s ministers and their
supporters always occupy the range of benches on the
rieht hand of the Speaker. ‘The Opposition occupy the
left. When the opening speech is finished, which has
probably been loug, full of facts, and, it may be, inpor-
tant, but consisting chiefly of dry details and figures, a
large portion of members rise to quit the House; the
voice of the succeeding speaker is nearly drowned in the
noise of footsteps and slamming of doors,-and it 1s some-
tinies a considerable period before he can be distinctly
heard. All members bow to the chair on entering, and
on going out are supposed not to turn their backs on it.
Li 2
76
The debate goes on—now swelling into noble sounds—
now falling off in tedious episodes; and by the time
the occupant of the front seat of the strangers’ gallery
has sat from four till twelve, or later, he will confess
that, however exciting the subject—however grand the
associations connected with this political arena, present-
ing as it does In combination some of the cleverest and
some of the most influential men of the empire—how-
ever wonderful it is to see those note-takers carefully
and accurately reporting the outline of the dekate,
facts, figures, and all, and with the machinery with
which they are in connexion, giving the world an op-
portunity of being present—still, to sit out an important
debate in the House of Commons is a very fatiguing
thing.
None can carry a message from the House of Com-
mons to the House of Lords but members; the House
ef Lords has specific messengers of its own to convey
its communications to the Commons. The messengers
of the House of Commons are merely the servants of
the Serjeant-at-Arms, who is the head of the household
establishment, and has the responsibility and care of
the House, under the Speaker.
When a bill or message is to be carried from the
Commons to the Loids, a member is appointed to take
it; and as the practice is that at least eight members
must go up, the Speaker addresses the House, desiring
it to follow its messenger. {f the bill is an important
one, a large number of- members. usually accompany
the messenger.
the Honse of Peers of the presence of the messengers ;
when they are admitted, the Black Rod, as he is abbre-
viatingly termed, places himself at their head, and the
Lord Chancellor, or whoever is chairman at the time,
comes down to the bar to receive the message. ‘Three
obeisances are made on entering and retiring.
The House of Lords has a different appearance from
the House of Commons. Both are neatly fitted up,
but the Lords has a richer and more stately appearance.
The visiter may have entered during the day, when it is
sitting as the highest court of justice in the e:npire,
and judgment on some case may be delivering.
may be done at considerable length, either by the Lord
Chancellor, who is sitting in his official costume, or by
one of the law lords ocenpying the benches. If it be
one of the latter, the stranger’s notions may be some-
what startled at seeing him in plain clothes—for the
novice is apt to associate robes and stars with his idea
of the appearance of a peer in his place in Parliament.
Bunt peers only wear their robes on great occasions.
The bishops, however, always wear their clerical robes.
When judgment is delivered, the strangers, mingled
with the counsel in the space below the bar, fall back
towards the wall, forming a semicircle ; the next case is
called, the attendant messenger exclaims ‘‘ Counsel,”
and the barristers conducting the case advance, bowing
three times ; one of them then ascends the step at the
bar (on which the Speaker of the House of Commons
stands wlien he and the House are summoned) and
opens the proceeding in an easy colloquial tone. The
short-hand writer of the House takes his notes at the
bar. The gallery for strangers and reporters when the
House sits legislatively occupies a similar position to
the strangers’ gallery in the House of Commons, being
over the entrance, above the bar.
At a little distance from the Houses of Parliament,
lie some of the principal government offices. A wide
Spacious street, but not perfectly straight, termed
Whitehall, stretches from the end of Parliament Street,
(which is a continuation of Whitehall) to Charing Cross.
A narrow inlet, bearing the far-famed name of Down-
ing Street,—it should be termed Downing Place, for
MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF
The Usher of the Black Rod informs:
This |
-2,786,2781.
since 1825:—in the Treasury, 27,4210.; in the Exche-
[Fepruary 28,
Lord of the ‘Treasury, the Chancellor of the Exchequer,
the offices of the foreigm and colonial Secretaries of
State, &c. From the entrance of Downing Street a
handsome new range of butlding extends alone White-
hall, presenting a fine front to the street, which is stated
to have been copied from the temple of Jupiter Stator
at Rome. ‘This is appropriated to the Board of Trade
and the Privy Council, &c. Beyond this, and joining it,
is the old building of the Treasury, in which the Home
Office is also placed; higher up is the Horse Guards ;
nearly opposite it is the building termed Whitehall,
which has given name to the street (see ‘ Penny Ma-
oazine,’ vol. i.); above the Horse Guards, nearer to
Charing Cross, is the Admiralty; and opposite, in
Scotland Yard, are a variety of subordinate government
offices.
St. James's Park, and the Horse Giards’ Parade in
front of it, Ne at the back of Downing Street, the
Treasury, the Horse Guards, and the Admiralty. The
wood-cut represents these buildings from the Park.
There is an arched passage through the Horse GuarJs
from Whitehall into the Parade. Here between ten
and eleven in the morning, the animated scene exhi-
bited in the engraving is presented.
The extensive and important bnsiness of the executive
sovernment requires a minute subdivision of labour, the
employment of many offices and numerous functionaries.
To attempt to gather an idea of the extent of the busi-
ness transacted from an Inspection of the exterior of
Downing Street and Whitehall would be but an idle
effort; yet to describe particularly each office would
only tempt the reader to exclaim
“ Grove answers grove ; each alley has its brother,
And half the platform but reflects the other.”
However different the nature of the various employ-
ments may be, there must be a similarity in all—the
Horse Guards alone, from its military air and cha-
racter, breaking the uniformity.
In 1815 there were 27,265 individuals employed in
the Public Departments, receiving annual salaries to
the amount of 3,763,100/. In 1835 the number was
reduced to 23,578, and the amount of salaries paid to
The following reductions have been made
quer and Paymaster of Civil Services, 58,9942.; in the
War Office, including Military Boards, 29,509/.; in the
Ordnance, 122,174/.; in the Admiralty and Naval de-
partments, 303,489/.; in the Excise, 152,301/.; Stamps
and Taxes, 103,929/.; Audit department, 54,078/.; and
in the Vice-Treasurer’s Office, &c., 23,8051.
The Treasury is the head of the executive. The
prime minister is always the first lord of the Treasury
—for the first title is merely honorary, given to him
from the rank which he takes as head of the eovern-
ment: the second title is the virtual one. The second
lord of the Treasury is always the Chancellor of the
Exxchequer ; bnt when it happens that the prime minis-
ter is a commoner, he sometimes takes both the post of
First Lord and Chancellor of the Exchequer—for the
latter must be a member of the Commons, and the
government appointments are usnally distributed so as
to secure as equal a proportion of ministers as possible
in both Houses of Parliament. ‘There are four junior
lords of the Treasury, two secretaries, an assistant
secretary, two solicitors, and a number of clerks. The
Treasury has the control of the Mint, the Customs, the
Kixcise, the Stamps and Taxes, the Post Office, the
management of the national debt, &c.
The duties of the Chancellor of the Exchequer are of
a momeutous kind. They give him cognizance of the
entire revenue of the empire. His “ budget,” as it is
termed, is an annual exposition to the Hense of Com-
it Is not a thoroughfare—runs up from the bottom of] mons and the nation of the amount of taxes oathered
Whitehall. Here are the official residences of the First ! from every source, the expenditure of that money, and
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[Back of the Horse-Guards and the Admiralty. |
whether a necessity or an opportunity has arisen for |
the imposition of a new tax, or the reduction of an old
one. The public income arising from the various taxes |
has been for the last three years upwards of fifty mil-
lions annually. The expenditure for the same period
has been forty-nine and forty-eight millions annually,
leaving a surplus of about a million and a half each
year. “This has been applied in different ways, but |
principally to the reduction of taxation, a part of the
surplus, however, being generally applied to the reduc-
tion of the national debt, according to a prescribed
method of taking an average. The expenditure is
applied to the establishments of the King and royal
family, and Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland; the salaries
of ministers, judwes, ambassadors, consuls, &c.; the ex-
penses of the army and navy; the payment of pensions ;
and, above all, the interest of the national debt, which
alone ahsorbs annually about twenty-eight millions.
The names of the three secretaries of state indicate
their several duties. There would appear, at first sight,
a great difference in the weight of their respective func-
tions. ‘The home secretary, we might say, having
such a small department as that of Great Britain to
attend to, and that, too, chiefly as regards the admi-
nistration of justice and police, cannot be so heavily
pressed as he who has to watch foreign nations, control
ambassadors, look to nearly 200 consular stations in
different parts of the world, and otherwise guard our
foreign interests; or the colonial secretary, presiding
over our wide-spread empire in every quarter of the
olohe. But what a population is that of Britain! How
endlessly complicated are our internal and social rela-
tions! What watchfulness is required to prevent all
our great social interests clashing! ‘The duties of these
high officers are therefore pretty equally divided. The
state secretaries are assisted by under-secretaries, with
their clerks.
The Board of Trade has its president, secretaries,
and various departmental clerks; the Office of Woods
and Forests its commissioners; the Exchequer its
comptroller, accountants, &c.; and the Board of Con-
trol its president and commissioners,
The Office of
the Board of Control lies over from Whitehall, in a Jane
called Cannon Row, not far from Westminster Bridge.
Its business is to superintend and control the governing
functions of the East India Company.
The Horse Guards is the seat of the government of
the vast military establishment of Great Britain. The
king is the head and generalissimo of the army; the
commander-in-chief is the king’s deputy, and acting
ruler of the forces. The connexion between the Horse
Guards and the civil government is maintained by a
member of the latter, termed the secretary-at-war; the
paymaster-general is also usually a civilian. The com-
mander-in-chief is assisted by a military secretary, an
adjutant-general, a quarter-master-general, and a judge
advocate-general. There is also a chaplain-general.
The Ordnance Office is partly at the Tower of London
(see the fifth volume of the ‘ Penny Magazine’) and in
Pall Mall; and it is presided over by a master-general
and a surveyor-general, with their principal secretaries
and clerks.
The total amount of the British army at home and
abroad, including India, was, in 1792, 57,252; in 1815
it was 250,314; in 1834 it was reduced to 108,672.
The expense of the army for the year 1836-7 was—
charge for the land forces, exclusive of India, 3,109,557/,;
charee to be defrayed by the East India Company,
691,1332.; total 3,800,690/. In 1836 there were 5,268
officers receiving half-pay.
We come now to the Admiralty. The front of this
building recedes from the street, but is connected with
it by wings, forming a court-yard. The head of the
Admiralty is the Lord High Admiral; but this office
has been rarely held in person (the present king, when
Duke of Clarence, was Lord High Admiral for some
time); but its duties are discharged by Lords Commis-
sioners, the first lord being the head of the department.
Our navy is not at present, a time of universal peace
(at least on the seas), in extensive employment: yet in
1835 there was one first-rate, three second-rates, five
third-rates, and 163 lower classed vessels in commis-
sion; which, along with those lying’ in ordinary, gives a
total of fifteen first-rates, nineteen second-rates, fifty-
%8
five third-rates, and 354 other vessels in the British
navy—a total of 443. In the Kine’s speech, on the
opening of the session of 1836, it was announced that
the navy had been increased, in a to give adequate
protection to our extended commerce. The wages pald
to seamen and marines, to ordinary and yard craft,
amounted, in 1836, to 933 0540. ;
their victuals was 339,251. The total expense of the
effective establishment of the navy in that year was
2,416,300/.; and if to this we add $19,103/. for half-
pay to navy and marine officers, and various other
items, the transport of troops, &c., the entire expense
of the navy will be found to be 4,245,723/. The
Navy Pay Office is in Somerset House.
The preceding gives a very brief and rapid view i of
Whitehall. But there are other o fice: of the executive,
subordinate indeed to those we have described, but
each heads of departments, and of very. great Import-
ance, in ‘different parts of London. We shall briefly
Notice them.
A number of what may. be termed the working offices
of government are in Somerset House. This noble
building i is entered from the Strand ; on passing through
the gateway we atrive in a spacious quadrangle, and
over the different doors on each side of the square may
be remarked brief but significant intimations, such as
“Stamps and Taxes,” “ “Navy Pay Office,” : Legacy
Duty Office,” “Audit Office,” &c. &c. Here, there-
fore, is transacted a large portion of government money
business, and the receipt and management of such
parts of the revenue arising from trade as do not fall
under the heads of Customs or Excise. For instance,
under *t Stamps” are included the taxes levied on deeds,
legacies, insurance policies, bills of exchange, bankers’
notes, newspapers and advertisements, stage-coaches,
post- -horses, receipts, &c. The revenue derived from
these sources was, in the year ending 10th October,
1835, 6,505,224/.; and in 1836, 6,796,4392. Again,
under “ Taxes,” $0 termed, because they are assessed
directly on property and employment, we find it stated,
that in 1835 they produced 3,733,997/., and in 1836,
3,670,747/. The sources from which this money 1s de-
rived are land-taxes, houses, windows, servauts, horses,
carriages, dogs, and other assessed taxes. It is calcu-
lated that the “ Stamps” contribute 14 per cent. of the
entire revenue of the country, and the assessed and
land-taxes 9 per cent. The rate at which they are
collected, that is, the amount per cent. on each 1001.
which it costs to keep up establishments and officers
to gather the money, is, for “Stamps” 2. 10s. 11id.,
anit for °° Taxes” 51. 7s. 94d. Something like an idea aC
the amount of money which, by the deaths of indivi-
duals, annually changes hands in Great Britain, may
be 2 athered from the fact, that in 1834 the amount of
capital on which leeacy duty was, paid was 41,574,628/.,
and in 1835, 41,092,660/.—forty-one millions annually
paying legacy duty! The taxes arising from probates
and legacies yields about two millions a-year.
Among: other offices in Somerset Honse may be
mentioned that of the Poor Law Commissioners. 'The
money that was gathered in the country for poor-rates
was, in 1832-4, between eight and nine millions annu-
ally ; in 1835 it fell down to little more than seven mil-
lions, and in 1836 it was little more than six millions.
The Excise Office is in Broad Street, and the Cus-
tom House in Lower Thames Street, below London
Bridge. The Mint and the Post Office have been de-
scribed in the first and third volumes of the ‘ Penny
Magazine.’ The produce of the customs and excise has
been annually, for the last three years, upwards of
thirty-five and thirty-six millions. They contribute
about seventy-two per cent. of the revenue. ‘The ex-
pense of collecting the customs was, in 1835, 5/. 5s.
per cent.; and the excise 6/, 13s, 6id.
MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF
and the expense of
a newly awakened desire to gambol with him.
[Fepruary 28
HARE-HUNTING BY THE FOX.
THE fox is not able to overtake a hare in running, and
therefore he has recourse to artifice, which he instinc-
tively employs. In the evening, generally towards sun-
set, the fox comes out of his hole, and creeps slowly and
cautiously alone the edge of the wood, with all the
precaution of a sportsman, to discover if possible a
young hare in the distance. The young hares are,
like all young animals, very sportive, and one often
sees them gamboling and leaping in the oddest manner
that can be imagined, and upon this propeusity is the
manoeuvre of the fox founded. He seeks above all
things to introduce himself to a young one not yet
acquainted with the world. If it is a fine warm summer
evening, the hare is very willing (supposing that he has
not yet become acquainted with the character of the
fox) to sport with the unknown stranger. The fox
therefore, while at a distance, exerts, himself to excite
the attention of the young hare. He stretches himself
upon the ground at full length, spreads his tail upright,
jumps up in. the air, runs round in circles, and thus
endeavours to approach nearer to the hare, who grows -
bolder, and looks at the fox with curiosity, and’ with
In this
way the fox succeeds in inspiring: the hare with con-
fidence, which consequently is induced to sport with
this dol ever, aud to join in its ridiculous tricks, and
the poor wretch is thus irrecoverably lost, for the fox
takes the first safe opportunity to sieze it by the throat,
‘and, heedless of its piteous cries, to deprive it of its
life. A fabulist wonld know how to draw from this an
obvious moral for young people, who are about to enter
the great world.
Mr. Jesse, in his ‘Gleanings of Natural History,’
relates as a faet that may be relied on, that in France
a gentleman who had gone ont to shoot hares one
evening, in a very rocky district, placed himself with
his attendant in concealment hear a water-channel
formed by the rains, to watch for the hares coming
down towards the plain in order to feed. ‘They had
not been there long when they observed a fox coming
down the gully, and followed by another. After play-
ing together for a little time, one of the foxes concealed
himsélf under a large stone or rock, which was at the
bottom of the channel, and the other returned to the
rocks. He soon, however, came back, chasing a hare
before him. As the hare was passing the stone where
the first fox had concealed himself, he tried to seize her
by a sudden spring, but missed his aim. ‘The chasing
fox then came up, and finding that his expected prey
had escaped, through the want of skill in his associate,
he fell upon hin, “and they both fought with so much
animosity, that the parties who had been watching their
proceedings came up and destroyed them both.”
ORDERS OF KNIGHTHOOD.
(Concluded from No, 314.]
Amonost the lay orders of knighthood which were
formed in chivalric times, and have come down in un-
broken succession, the Enghsh Orver or THE GARTER
holds a most distinguished place. It was founded, as
mentioned in the previons paper, in the reign of
Edward LIL., when manners had arrived at that stage
of improvement in which, while retaining so much ‘ot
roughness and feudal barbarity as to give a reality to
chivalric life, tt ley also tinged it with @aiety and splen-
dour. ‘The precise cause of the Origin or formation of
the Order is not distinctly known. "The common story
respecting the fall of a lady's earter at a ball, which
was picked up by the kine, and his retort, to those who
were smiling at the action, of “ Honi soit qui mal y
nense (Evil, or shame, to him who thinks evil hereof),
which afterwards became the motto of the Order, has
|} been not entirely given up usa fable. A tradition ob-
$837.]
tained as far back as in the reton of Henry VI. that this
Order received its origin from the fair sex. The author
of the ‘ History of British Costnme,’ in the ‘ Library of
Entertaining Knowledge,’ says, ‘‘ Sir E. Ashmole, in his
history of the Order, considers the garter as a symbol of
union; and in this opinion he is followed by Sir Walter
scott and Sir Samuel Meyrick. We are not aware of
any evidence that would shake such hieh anthority:
but one curious question occurs to us, connected with
the subject of our work—Costume—from whence ‘id
Edward derive the garter? Camden says, he gave
forth his own garter as a signal for a battle that sped
well, which Du Chesne takes to be that of Cressy ; but
we have yet to learn that garfers were worn by men in
those days. No indication of such an article occurs
upon any monument or in any illumination of the time, |
nor would it appear there was any need of snch an
assistant; the chaussés, or lone hose, being attached to
the donblet, or at least ascending to the middle of the
thigh, where they were met by the drawers. ‘The lee-
bandages, abandoned in the previous century, have no
affinity to the short garter and buckle, which forms the
badge of this celebrated Order. In the absence of all
proof, however, probability is in favour of such garters
beine’ worn by the ladies, whose hose were in shape
precisely the stockings of the present day*.”’
The last supposition, and that of Sir E. Ashmole’s,
would appear to he easily reconcileable. ‘The carter
might have been selected both as a symbol of union
and as a compliment to the ladies: for the gallantry
of the time was not so polished as to regard sucha
selection in any other light than a compliment.
The Order was founded ‘‘in honour of God, the
Virgin Mary, St. George, and St. Edward the Con-
fessor.’ St. George, the tutelary saint of England, is
its especial patron and protector. How St. George
became the Patron Saint of England, or who he was
originally, whether a fabulous or real personage, is not
kuown with certainty. Gibbon, in detailing the cir-
cumstances connected with the expulsion of Athanasius
from the archiepiscopal chair of Alexandria, and the
violent death of George, his successor, says, ‘‘ the
odious stranger, dis@nisine every circumstance of time
and place, assumed the mask of a martyr, a saint, and
a Christian hero; and the infamous George of Cap-
padocia has been transformed into the renowned St.
George of England, the patron of arms, of chivalry,
and of the garter.” In a note, the historian adds,
“this transformation is not given as absolutely certain,
but as extremely probable.” It is enough for our pur-
pose to know that St. George has been long the well-
known patron of England ;—that his exploit with the
dragon is his crowning feat of victory ;—that his name
was invoked as “our ancient word of courage:” and
the reader is donbtless familiar with the words which
shakspeare has put into the mouth of Henry V., when
he asks, “* Who calls for more men from England ?”—
“the game’s afoot ;
Follow your spirit ; and upon this charge |
Cry, ‘God for Harry, Engiand, and St. George !’”
Cake
The Order of the Garter was originally composed of
twenty-five knights and the sovereign (who nominates
the other knights) ; twenty-six in all. This number
has received no alteration, except in the reign of
George III., when it was directed that princes of the
royal family, and illustrions foreigners, on whom the
honour might be conferred, should not be included.
The number of these extra knights was fourteen in
1834. ‘The Military Knights of Windsor are also con-
sidered as an adjunct of the Order of the Garter.
Fhe officers of the order are, the prelate, who is
always the Bishop of Winchester; the chancellor, who
is the Bishop of Salisbury; the registrar, who is the
* ¢ History of British Costume—-Library of Entertaining Know-
ledge,’ pp. 145-146.
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
79
Dean of Windsor; with the Garter King at Arms, and
the Usher of the Black Rod. The Chapter ovght to
meet every year on St. George’s day (the 23rd of
April) in St. George’s Chapel, Windsor. (See the ac-
count of Windsor, in No. 80 of the ‘ Penny Mawazine.’)
The original dress of the Knights of the Garter was
a mantle, tunic, and capuchin (hood), of the fashion
of the time, all of blue woollen cloth: those of the
knights companions differing only from the sovereign’s
by the tunic being lined with miniver instead of ermine.
All the three garments were embroidered with garters
of blue and gold, the mantle havine one larger than
all the rest on the left shoulder. The dress underwent
various changes. Henry VIII. remodelled both it and
the statutes of the order, and gave the knights the
Collar, and the greater and lesser George as at present
worn. ‘Ihe last alteration in the dress took place in
the reign of Charles If. The principal parts of it con-
sist of a mantle of dark blue velvet, with a hood of
crimson velvet; a cap or hat, with an ostrich and heron
plume; the stockings are of white silk, and the garter,
which is of dark blue velvet, having the motto em-
broidered in gold letters, is worn under the left knee.
The badge is a gold medallion, representing St. George
and the Dragon, which is worn suspended by a blue
ribbon; henee it is a common form of speech to say,
when an individual has been appointed a Knight of the
Garter, that he has received the blue ribbon. ‘There is
also a star worn on the left breast.
It is not generally known, that from the first institu-
tion of the Order of the Garter to at least as late as the
reion of Edward IV., ladies were admitted to a partici-
pation in the honours of the fraternity. The queen,
some of the knights-companions’ wives, and other creat
ladies, had robes and hoods of the gift of the sovereign,
the former garnished with little embroidered garters.
The ensien of the Garter was also delivered to them,
and they were expressly termed Dames de la fraternité
de St. George. ‘The splendid appearance of Qneen
Philippa at the first grand feast of the order is noticed
by Froissart. ‘Two monuments, too, are still existing,
which hear figures of ladies wearing the garter; the
Duchess of Suffolk’s, at Ewelme, in Oxfordshire, of
the time of Henry VI., represents her wearing it on
the wrist in the manner of a bracélet; Lady Harcourt,
at Stanton Harcourt, in Oxfordshire, of the time of
Edward IV., wears the garter on her left arm.
Ashmole, writing on the habit and ensigns of the
order, says, ‘* After a long disuse of these robes hy the
queens of England and knights-companious. ladies,
there was, at the feast of St. George, celebrated an. 14
Cha. I., endeavour used to have them restored ; for the
then deputy chancellor moved the sovereign in chapter
(held the 22nd May).that the ladies of the knights-
companions might have the privilege to wear a garter
of ‘the order about their arms, and an upper robe, at
festival times, according to ancient usage. Upon which
motion the sovereion gave order that the queen should
be acquainted therewith, and her pleasure kuown, and
the affair left to the ladies’ particular suit. The 10th
of October in the following year (1639) the feast of
St. George being then also kept at Windsor, the
depnty chancellor reported to the sovereign in chapter
the answer which the queen was pleased to give him
to the aforesaid order; whereupon it was then left to
a chapter to be called by the knights-companions to
consider of every circumstance, how it were fittest to be
done for the honour of the order, which was appointed
to be held at London about Alhollantide after; but
what was then or after done doth not appear; and the
unhappy war coming on, this matter wholly slept.”
When Queen Anne attended the thanksgiving at
St. Paul's in 1702, and again in 1704, she wore the
marter set with diamonds, as sovereign of the order,
tied round her left arm,
SV)
™he ORDER OF THE BATH was created in 1399, on the
coronation of HenryIV. Bathing had been freqnently
observed previously, as one of lie ceremonies on the
making of a knight, especially when it was wished to
do so with pecniiar solemnity. It was, however, far
from being a general observance; for as knights were
frequently. made on the field of battle, no other cere-
mony could be observed, at such critical times, than
that of simple dubbing, or the accolade—that is, the
three strokes on the shonin bestowed on the cael
date while he remained ina kneeling posture before
the knight (generally some illustrious person) who con-
ferred the honour. Thongh some knights might have
been occasionally called Knights of the Bath before the
time of Henry IV., it does not appear that the title was
appropriated to a distinct order till the coronation of
that king. “ Froissart (see Lord Berners’ ‘ 'Translat.’
edit. 1812, vol. ii. p. 752), speaking of that king, says,
‘ The Saturday before his coronation he departed from
Westminster, and rode to the Tower of London with a
oreat number: and that ni@ht all such esqmires as
should be male knights the next day, watched,’ who
were to the number of forty-six. ‘ Every esquire had
his owne bayne (bath) by himself; and the next day
the Duke of Lancaster made them all knights at the
mass-time. Then had they long coats with strait
sleeves, furred with mynever like prelates, with white
laces hanging on their shoulders.”
“© Tt became subseqnently the practice of the English
kings to create Knights of the Bath previous to their
coronation, at the inauguration of a Prince of Wales,
at the celebration of their own nuptials or those of any
of the royal family, and occasionally upon other great
occasions or. solemnities. Fabyan (Chron. edit. 1811,
p. 582) says that _Henry V.,in 1416, npon the’ taking
of the town of Caén, dubbed sixteen Knights of the
Bath. «
** Sixty-eight Knights of the Bath were made at the
coronation of Kine Charles II. (see the list in Guillim’s
‘ Heraldry,’- fol. Lond. 1679, p. 107); but from that
time the order was,discontinued, till it was revived by
King :George I. under writ of Privy Seal, dated May 18,
725s during the administration of Sir Robert Walpole.
The statutes and. ordinances of the order bear date
May 23, 1725. By these it was directed that the order
should consist of a orand master and thirty-six com-
panions, a succession “of whom was to be regularly con-
tinued. The officers appropriated to the order, be-
sides the grand master, were a dean, register, king of
arms, renealovist, secretary, usher, and messenger.
The dean of the collegiate church of St. Peter, West-
minster, for the time being, was appointed ex officio
dean of the Order of the Bath, and it was directed that
the other officers should be from time to time appointed
by the grand master*.”
In 1815 George IV., then Prince Regent, remodelled
the Order of the ‘Bath. It was divided into three era-
duated classes—Knights Grand Crosses, Commanders,
and Companions. ‘The Badge of the Order was dli-
rected by George I. to be a rose, thistle, and shamrock,
issuing from a “sceptie between three imperial crowns,
with the motto, Tria guncta in uno—three joined in
one. Additions were made, on the division of the
order, in order to mark the badges of each class.
The Orper or rHe THIst.e is, as its name (from the
national emblem) may be supposed to indicate, a Scotch
one, and only bestowed on Scotch noble families. Three
of the ribbons are reserved for a prince of the royal
family, and two English noblemen, the entire number
of knizhts being sixteen, and the sovereign. ‘The Order
of the Thistle was potiided by James V., (father of
Mary, Queen of Scots) but it ‘did not flourish, being
lost sight of in the troubles and alterations which fol-
lowed Thmes s death. It was revived by Queen Anne
* «Penny Cyclopedia,’ No. 207, vol. iv., p. 23.
MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT.
°
‘
73 -
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e . . °
= S
e
. . t
=
. =
: °
°
°
[FepRuary 28, 1837.
in 1703, who only followed out an interrupted purpose
of James IT.’s (the Seventh of Scotland). - The badge
is a medallion of gold, exhibiting St. Andrew. The
eold collar is wrought as if composed of thistles and
sprigs of rue. The motto of the order is, Nemo me
impune lacessit—nobody shall insult me with impnnity.
fg:
Ve y
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ae a
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‘(oom of the Order L St. Andrew.]
The Orver or St. Parrick was founded by Geor ve IT,
in 1783. The Lord-Lientenant of Ireland is thé Grand
Master. ‘The order is composed of the kings sixteen
knights, and six knights extraordinary. ’”
{Collar of the Order of St. Patrick.
The banners of the Knights of the Garter are sus-
pended in St. Geor re’s Chapel, Windsor, those of the
Bath in Henry VII's Chapel, Westminster, and those
of St. Patrick in St. Patrick’s Cathedral, Dublin.
‘Penny Magazine,’ Nos. 80, 155, and 129. )
In addition to these British orders, there are two
in British dependencies: one in the Toner ; ‘Islands,
called ‘‘ the most distinguished Order of St. Ve lil
and St. George,” which was created by George III.,
on the erection of these islands into a wovernment under
the protection of Great Britain ; and one in Hanover,
(the Guelphic Order) created by George IV. when
Prince Regent, after Hanover was freed ‘from French
domination.
(See
*,* The Ojfice of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at
59, Lincoln’s Inn Fields.
LONDON: CHARLES KNIGHT & CO,, 22, LUDGATE STREET. .-
Printed by WiLtram Crowes and Sons, Stamford Street. ,
THE PENNY
AGAZINE
OF THE
Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge.
316.)
PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY.
=>
[Marcu 4, 1837.
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[Mount’s Bay, Cornwall. ]
WE have now to notice the pilchard-fishery in a com-
mercial and economic point of view. ‘The Rev. W.
Borlase * observes, that “* the sea is the great store-
house of Cornwall, which offers not its treasures by
piecemeal, nor all at once, but in succession; all in
plenty in their several seasons, and annually, as it were
to give time to dispose of what is sent, as if Nature
were solicitous to’ prevent any excess or superfluity of
the same kind.” ‘The Cornish fishermen are-fully im-
pressed with a sense of the value of the fishery, and it
is a saying among them that the pilchard is the least
fish in size, most in number, and greatest for gain, that
they take from the sea. ‘Those even who reside at some
distance from the coast are as much indebted to the sea
as to the land for sustenance. ‘The pilchard in its fresh
state constitutes, with potatoes, the chief article of diet
in the summer season, and in winter and spring the
salted fish is substituted. -The latter may be con-
sidered rather as a condiment than an article of sub-
stantial aliment, and is boiled alone with the potatoes.
The fish are commonly sold at a shilling per hundred
* Natural History of Cornwall, 1758,
Vou. VI.
on the beach, and are sometimes as low as twenty for
a penny. Great uumbers are given away at each
fishing station, and the poorest classes are always
able to cure a quantity at home for the family con-
sumption, besides obtaining a small sum for the sur-
plas, which they retail amongst the miners and others
It is doubtful, however, whether the ease with which
the means of subsistence may be obtained is favour-
able to the advancement of the population. Labour
is most cheerfully put forth when its reward is certain
and recular; but the fisherman sometimes procures
much with little toil, while at other times his foil is
nearly or altogether fruitless. Hence the facility with
which fishermem become smugglers is as much occa-
sioned by a reckless spirit, as by their occupation
on the sea having given them experience of its dangers
and a perfect acquaintance with the recesses on its
shores which are favourable for the concealment of a
contraband cargo. The sean fishery requires a combi-
nation of capital and exertion which assimilates it to
any other branch of regular industry ; anid the success
of an average of years, and not of a single year, is de-
8z
pended upon. The efforts of the isolated fisherman,
on the contrary, resemble more the industry of savage
life; and the varied success which he obtains 1s trying
to his temper and character. Dependent upon the
result of his exertions for a short period, his condition
is more chequered than if he could rely upon a long
period; for in the latter, the scarcity of one time Is
made up by the abundance of another, and he is thus
carried over each reverse to enjoy something more like
a uniformity of plenty.
As a sonrce of employment, the pilchard-fishery 1s
perhaps of less comparative importance than it was
sixty or seventy years ago. About eighty years ago
Borlase spoke of it as follows :—“ It employs (says he)
a great number of men on the sea, training them
thereby to naval affairs; employs men, women, and
children at land in salting, pressing, washing, and
cleaning; in makine boats, nets, ropes, casks, and all
the trades depending on their construction and sale.
The poor are fed with the offals of the captures; the
land with the refuse of the fish and salt; the merchant
finds the gains of commission and honest commerce ;
the fisherman the gains of the fish. Ships are often
freighted hither with salt, and into foreign countries
with the fish, carrying off at the same time parts of
our tin.” The seans seldom belong to one person, but
eenerally to a dozen or twenty different individuals ;
and the whole property, worth, with the nets and boats,
about 800J., is divided into shares, which are generally
held by the fishermen. A joint fishing craft, stocked
and manned, is called a “‘concern.” ‘The fishermen, in
addition to a weekly suin as wages, receive a share of the
proceeds of the fishing season. ‘The amount which they
receive in money is generally from 7s. to 10s. per week.
Tne fish are sometimes divided into eight parts, of
which one-eighth is appropriated to the boats, three
to the nets, and four to the men. A certain share falls
to the lot of the boy, and consists of those fish which
escape from the net when taking out the fish: these
he secures with a small net of his own. But the modes
of adjusting the respéctive shares, whether in the shape
of wages or profit, differs at various places. The men
sometimes receive a smaller amount in wages and a
larger share of the net proceeds of the fish and oil. The
profits of the season occasionally amount to as much as
251. per annum, but is generally a much smaller sum.
The fishery is said to be popular in Cornwall, as every
one expects to be successful, in which case the profit is
very considerable; while, taking a longer average, it is
rather low. But perhaps a satisfactory reason for this
may be found in the following extract from Dr. Forbes’
work, quoted in the last Number. He says that,—
‘ Owing to the great mildness of the climate in the
winter season, the Cornish fisherman is exposed to com-
paratively few hardships; and being well clothed and
well fed, and exposing himself to no unnecessary risks,
his health or his life but rarely suffers from the ordi-
nary course of his employments. In the pilchard sea-
son his exertions are often very great; but as this al-
most always happens in summer, there is even then
seldom any risk of health.” It is to the comparatively
agreeable nature of the occupation that many landsmen
become occasional fishermen; and thus the influx of
greater numbers has a tendency to reduce profits.
The miners of Cornwall are many of them agri-
culturists, and some of them are also fishermen.
Pryce states, in his ‘ Mineralogia Cornubiensis,’ pub-
lished in 1778, that “in St. Ives and Lelant, during
the fishing season, they are wholly employed upon
the water, to the great hinderance of the adjacent
mines; and when the fishing craft is laid up against
the next season, the fishermen again become tinners
and dive for employment in the depths of the earth.’;
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
[Marcu 4,
These transitions from one occupation to another are
occasioned by the home market beine supplied with
the exertions of the reeular fishermen, while the
pilchard-fishery requires great exertions so lone as it
lasts, and many additional hands are needed. It is
usually calculated that for every 1000. of capital in- .
vested in boats, nets, and in putting out to sea, about
502. will be required on shore in the erection or pur-
chase of storehouses, and in curing the fish. ‘The pro-
prietors of each sean therefore require a capital of above
12000.; viz., 8002. in connexion with their operations
at sea, and 4002. or more on shore. Four-fifths of the
persons employed in salting, packing, pressing, and
preparing the fish for exportation are women. A
number of women are employed as twine-spinners ;
and the makers and menders of nets are chiefly women
and children, who are employed by the twine-manufac-
turers. Nets are also made and repaired during the
winter by the fishermen and their families. They are
generally supposed to last about six years, but are fre-
quently destroyed before that time. They are often
injured by porpoises. “The fishermen complain heavily
of the hardship of paying tithe of the fish which they
take. ‘The claims are founded upon local and imme-
morial custom, and not upon any special enactment.
At some of the fishing stations tithes are not paid at
all, and are not demanded, so that the burden presses
in an unequal manner. At Mevagissey the fish-curers
pay 33s. 4d. per sean and one-twelfth of the men’s one-
fourth share of the fish caught; and these payments
have sometimes amounted to 20/. on each sean in a
single year. At Guranhaven, only two miles distant
from Mevagissey, a mode of payment prevails by which
about 7/, 10s. is contributed to the tithe-owner, whether
fish be caught or not. In some places in Cornwall the
poorest class of fishermen, who gain their livelihood by
hook-fishing, are obliwed to pay tithes on their boats.
The manner in which these deductions are made from
the fruits of the fisherman’s industry is particularly ob-
jectionable. The agriculturist, in consequence of a re-
cent act, may lay out his capital with renewed spirit,
now that his tithes are commuted into a fixed charge;
and the fisherman ought to enjoy the same advantages.
The payments are in money, and in no case in kind.
The demand for pilchards is both foreign and domes-
tic. The exports are chiefly up thé Mediterranean, and
in Italy the pilchatd is generally preferred to the her-
ring; but the heavy duties charged both at Naples and
Venice, which are the chief markets, tend to limit the
consumption. At Naples the duty is equal to 18s. 2d.
per hogshead ; the freight averages from 5s. 6d. to 7s.
The duty paid in 1832 for admission of pilchards into
the Neapolitan market amounted to 10,0002. A reduc-
tion of the duty would be highly beneficial to the Nea-
politan consumer and to the Cornish fisherman. The
price per hogshead is about 65s. at Naples. There is
both at Naples and Venice considerable competition
with the curers of other kinds of fish. During the war,
when the Mediterranean markets were not accessibie,
pilchards were exported to the West Indies in small —
quantities, and sold at the low price of 12s. per hogs-
head, making, with the bounty of 8s. 6d., rather more
than 20s., out of which freight had to be paid; but
herrings still retain the preference in all these colo-
nies, and the Mediterranean continues the principal
piichard-market. The home market for pilchards is
extremely limited, considering the facilities of inter-
course. . Scarcely any reach London; and it is stated
as a reason for this, that they are not agreeable to the
public taste. The flavour is different from that of the
herring, but not, perhaps, inferior; the preference
arising from the frequent use of one fish, and the want
of familiarity with the other, The fish canght in the
1837.]
driving-nets is generally sold in the home market,
which is almost entirely confined to the counties of
Devon and Cornwall.
Borlase states that the exports of pilchards from
1747 to 1756 inclusive, averaged 29,795 hogsheads
each year, the total value of which amounted to 50,000/.
In the four years ending in 1784 the annual exports
amounted only to 12,500 hogsheads; the average being
usually estimated at 24,000 hogsheads. In 17895° not
more than 5,500 hogsheads were exported, the fish
not having resorted to the coast in the usual numbers,
nor did they frequent it during the four preceding
years. Several hundred fishermen entered the navy
abont the year 1780, at which time we were at war
with France. At an average of the three years ending
with 1832, the annual export was 26,641 hogsheads,
the amount in 1832 being 31,618 hogsheads. Prices
depend, of course, upon the quantity taken, and aver-
aged, with the bounty and the oil made out of each
hogshead, about 33s. 3d. for the ten years ending in
1756. In 1823 the average price was about 3/., ex-
clusive of the bounty of 8s. 6d. The price has lately
averaged about 35s. The difference between what is
called a good and a bad year is of vital importance to
the fishermen and those connected with them, as the
result may be the circulation of 60,000/. or 70,0001. ;
or, if the season proye unsuccessful, of one-half of this
sun only.
In 1785 the capital employed in the pilchard-fishery
was estimated by a parliamentary committee at 212,000.
—viz., ‘concerns’ or craft, 96,150/.; stock, consisting
of seaus, nets, &c., 36,6001. ; cellars and curing-houses,
60,0001.
be in a declining state; some of the best fishermen
had been inyeigled over by the French, and others had
turned smugglers. ‘The war had aggravated the con-
sequences of several adverse seasons, and during the
four years previous, to 1785, the loss of capital which.
had been sustained was estimated at 91,000/. The
fishery was for some time in a deplorable condition in’
the reign of Charles I. ‘The bounty, which was 7s. in
1785, was afterwards increased. ‘The capital which
was employed in the pilchard-fishery in 1827, when the
bounty began to be withdrawn, is stated by Mr. Yarrell,
on the authority of Mr. Couch, a gentleman who has
paid much attention to the subject, at 441,215/. ‘The
number of fishermen in 1785 was supposed to amount to
5500, and from 4000 to 5000 were employed as curers,
&c., on shore. The following succinct statement was
communicated by Mr. Couch to Mr. Yarrell, who re-
marks that it is perhaps as near an approach to the
truth as can be made when absolnte certainty is unat-
tainable. The period referred to is 1827 :—Number of
seans employed, 186; not employed, 130—total num-
ber of seans, 316; number of drift-boats, 368: men
employed on board drift-boats, 1600; uumber of men
employed on seans at sea, 2672 ; uuimber of persons on
shore to whom thie fishery affords direct employment,
6350—total nuner of persons employed in the fishery,
10,521: cost of seans, boats, &c., used in the fishery,
209,840/.; cost of drift-boats and nets, 61,4002.; cost
of cellars for curing, and other establishments on sliore
for carrying on the fishery, 169,175/.—total capital in-
vested directly in the pilchard-fishery, 441,215/. ‘The
ontht of a sean amounts to about 800/.; a string of
drift-nets will cost about 6/.; the net and the boat from
1002. to 1502.; but this is used throughout the year for
the other purposes of fishing.
An opinion has been prevalent that the fishery has
been much injured by the withdrawal of the bounty
a few years ago, but though the temporary effect
may have been rather severely felt, the permanent in-
terests of the fishery will be benefited by a return to a |
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
he fishery was considered at that time to
' 83
more natural system. The real interests of the fishery
depend upon the quantity taken, and upon having
access to the foreign market ; and it is quite clear that
-a bounty can have no influence in producing a favour-
able season: and with regard to the export trade, the
eranting of a bounty ts an invitation to the framer
of the foreign tariff to impose a higher duty. The
abolition of the duty on salt must have proved a great
boon to the fishery, for though salt used for curing fish
was exempt from the tax, yet the transaction was em-
barrassed with a great number of complicated and
vexatious regulations. ‘The annual take being so un-
certain, it does not appear that an extension of the
market could be met with any great increase in the
supply. The promotion of railroads would otherwise
tend to benefit the fishery. Probably the most effi-
cacious mode of rendering the pilchard-fishery more
valuable would be the introduction of some restrictions
respecting the drift-fishing. Carew, whose ‘ Survey of
Cornwall’ was published in 1602, says, speaking of the
sean and drift-fishing, ‘‘’The seaners complain with
open mouths that those drovers work much prejudice
to the commonwealth of fishermen, and reap thereby
small gain to themselves; for, say they, the taking of
some few breaketh and scattereth the whole shoals,
and frayeth them from approaching the shore: neither
are those thus taken merchantable, by reason of their
bruising in the mesh.” It must be recollected that the
pilchard swims in large shoals, and the effect of the
drift-fishing is to divide these shoals, and to prevent
them coming into the bays or near the shore, where the
sean-fishing is alone carried on. ‘The most valuable
department of the fishery, that which requires the
largest capital and constitutes by far the most impor-
tant branch, is greatly injured. A single scan will take
more fish at one time than all the dnift-boats in the
fishery, so many as 5,000,000 having been caught,
while a drift-beat seldom obtains more than 20,000
fish in a night. A Cornish gentleman, who was ex-
amined before a parliamentary committee, in 1833, thus
alluded to the drift-fishermen :—*‘ They fish just where
they please, sweeping the bays, shores, and creeks with
their trawls, destroying, by means of their small and
illegal mesh-nets, everything which they can scrape up
from the bottom, great and small, old and young,
seasonable and unseasonable, and in number beyoud
the powers of the human mind to calculate.” The
statute 14 Charles IJ. c. 25, prohibited fishing with
drift-nets from June to November inclusive, unless at
a distance of one league and a half from the sliore; but
there is no police to enforce these regulations, though it
has been suggested that this service might be performed.
by the revenue cruisers. The preservation of game is
an object considered worthy of legislative interference,
and it is surely time that fish, which augments the food
of the poor, should be preserved by some intelligent
and well-considered regulations, though we are far
from admiring any restrictions excepting such as are
absolutely necessary. Unless some such plan were
adopted, it does not appear that an extended market
could be abundantly supplied. ,
The drift-fishery is carried on by boats of from eight
to sixteen tons burden, generally manned by four or
five men, who fish in deeper water than the sean-boats.
‘The net employed is called a drag-net, or trawl, or
trammel, from its trailing along the bottom while
dragged by a vessel under sail. It is of a triangular
form, fastened to a pole of various lengths, according
to the size of the vessel, each end being supported by-
an iron foot about ten or twelve inches in height.. The
upper part of the net is fastened to the pole, and th
lower part trails on the ground. ‘Thus, if the pole to
which the net is attached be twenty-five feet long.
omg!
84
and a foot deep, it will capture all the fish which
come within its sweep to that extent. Every time the
net is drawn up it is loaded with young fish, as the
meshes of the net are so small that nothing but water
will pass through them. Assuming that the net is
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
[Marcu 4,
drawn up twenty-four times in a day, the destruction of
fry by one boat alone is incalculable; and when the
same thing is done by many hundred boats, some idea
may be formed of the enormous destruction which
takes place. :
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[The Ruins of Sclinuntum. ]
Own the southern coast of Sicily, about ten miles to the
east of Cape Granitola, and between the little rivers
Maduini and Bilici (the Crimisus and Hypsa of ancient
times), a stupendous mass of ruins presents itself in
the midst of a solitary and desolate country. These
are the sad remains of the once splendid city of Selinus, .
or Selinuntum, which was founded by a Greek colony
from Megara, more than 2400 years ago. When seen
at a distance from the sea they still look like a mighty
city; but on a near approach nothing is seen but a
confused heap of fallen edifices—a mixture of broken
shafts, capitals, entablatures, and metopi, with a few
truncated columns erect among them. On landing at
a sandy flat, which has gradually encroached upon and
filled up the ancient haven or port, the traveller pre-
sently reaches a spot, called by the Sicilians ‘La Mari-
neila,” where are the stupendous ruins represented in
our engraving. ‘They seem to consist chiefly of the
remains of three temples of the Doric order.
these temples was naturally devoted by a maritime and
trading people to Neptune; a second was dedicated for
similar reasons to Castor and Pollux, the’ friends of
havigation and the scourge of pirates; the destination
of the third temple is uncertain. A curious popular
corruption of a classicai name has given a very familiar,
if not laughable, designation to the ‘place, “The vod
One of
Pollux is called in Italian Pollwce; and by an applica-
tion of his name, derived from the temple, the district
was called ‘* Zerra di Polluce,’ the Land of Pollux.
Out of this the Sicilians have made * Terra di Pulci ;”
literally, “The Land of Fleas’”—a designation the
place always goes by, and which (not to speak pro-
fanely) the neighbourhood, in common with nearly all
Sicily, 1s well entitled to. The size of the columns
and the masses of stone that lie heaped about them is
prodigious. ‘The lower circumference of the columns
is 314 feet; many of the stone blocks measure 25 feet
in length, 8 in height, and 6 in thickness. Twelve of
the columns have fallen with singular regularity, the
disjointed shaft pieces of each lying in a straight line
with the base from which they fell, and haying their
several capitals at the other end of the line. If archi-
tects and antiquaries have not been mistaken in their
difficult task of measuring among heaps of ruins that
in good part cover and conceal the exterior lines, the
largest of the three temples was 334 feet long and 154
feet wide. These are prodigious and unusual dimen-
sions for ancient edifices of the kind. That wonder of
the old world, the ‘Temple of Diana at Ephesus, itself
did not very much exceed these admeasurements. The
vreat Selinuntian temple seems to have had porticoes
of four columns in depth and eight in width, with a
1837.]
double row of sixteen columns on the lateral sides of
the cella. It is somewhat singular, from having had
all the columns of the first row on the east front fluted,
while all the rest of the columns were quite plain. One
of these fluted columns is erect and tolerably entire,
with the exception of its capital. The fluting, more-
over, is not in the Doric style; for each flute is sepa-
rated by a fillet. ‘The material of which this and the
other edifices were formed is a species of fine-grained
petrifaction, hard, and very sonorous on being struck
with the hammer. It was hewn out of quarries near
at hand, at a place called Campo Bello, where many:
masses, only partially separated from the rock, and
looking as if the excavation had been suddenly inter-
rupted, are still seen. 7 |
A flight of ancient steps in tolerable preservation
leads from the Marinella to the Acropolis, where the
covert-ways, gates, and walls, built of large squared
stones, may still be traced all round the hill. A little
to the west of the Acropolis is the small. pestiferous
lake Yhalici, partly choked up with sand. In ancient
times this was called Stagnum Gonusa, and it is said
_ the great philosopher Empedocles purified it and made
the air around it wholesome, by clearing a mouth
towards the sea and conveying a good stream of water
through it. The Fountain of Diana, at a short dis-
tance, which supplied this stream, still pours forth a
copious volume of excellent water; but it is allowed .to-
run and stagnate over the plain, and now adds to the
mal-aria created by the stagnant Jake. . The surround-
ing country is wholly uncultivated; and, where not a
morass, is covered with underwood, dwarf palms, and
myrtle-bushes of a prodigious growth. For six months
in the year Selinunte is a most unhealthy place; and
though the stranger may visit it by day-time without
much danger of catching the infection, it seems scarcely
possible to sleep there in summer and escape the mal-
aria fever in one of its worst forms. Of four Enelish
artists who tried the experiment in 1822; not. one es-
caped; and Mr. Harris, a young architect of creat
promise, died in Sicily from the consequences. . These
gentlemen made a discovery of some importance. They
dug up near one of the temples some sculptured metopx
with figures in relievo, of a singular primitive style, -
which seems to have more affinity with the Egyptian
or the Etruscan than with the Greek style of a later
age. ‘There are probably few Greek fragments of so
ancient a date in so perfect a state of preservation. The
government claimed these treasures, and caused them
to be transported to Palermo; but Mr. Samuel Angel,
an architect, and one of the party, took casts from
them, which may now be seen in the Elgin Marble
Gallery of the British Museum.
Selinuntum was taken during the Carthaginian wars
in Sicily, and partly destroyed by the great Hanuubal ;
but the city was restored, and was an important place.
long after that time. From the manner in which the
columns and other fragments of the three stupendous
temples lie, it is quite evident that they must have been
thrown down by an earthquake; but the date of that
calamity is not known.
The neighbouring country is interesting as having
been the scene of many of the memorable events re-
corded by the ancient historians. A few miles to the
west of the ruins, on the banks of a little river, that
now, unless when swelled by the winter torrents, creeps
gently into the sea, was fought, amidst thunder, light-
ning, and rain, one of the most celebrated battles of
ancient times, in which the “immortal Timoleon,” the
liberator of Corinth, and the saviour of Syracuse,
gained a glorious victory over the Carthaginian in-
vaders. ‘Ihe events are preserved in popular traditions ;
and the names of Mago, Hamilcar, Hannibal, Agatho-
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
44
cles, Dionysius, and Timoleon, are common in the
mouths of the country people, though not unfrequently
confused with one another, and subjected to the same
laughable mutilation as the name of Pollux at Seli-
nunte.
- ct
THE CITY OF BUFFALO, ..
AS CONNECTED WITH THE RAPIDITY OF GROWTH OF TOWNS
AND SETTLEMENTS IN THE UNITED STATES.
[From a Correspondent.]
THERE is nothing more remarkable connected with the
history of the United States, than the immense rapidity
with which some of the present towns, cities, and vil-
lages have started up from countries that were literally
howling wildernesses but a few years ago. ‘This phe-
nomenon has been constantly occurring in the vast
country to the westward of the Ohio river, but has by
no means been confined exclusively to the western
States; for in some of the middle States, particularly
that of New York, the rapid growth of numerous towns °
and settlements has been truly astonishing. From a
long list of names might be selected Utica, Ithaca,
Rochester, and Buffalo, as amongst.the most con-
spicuous in this respect; but as my present purpose is
not to deal in generalities, 1 shall confine my obser-
vations chiefly to Buffalo. It is the only port of much
consequence on the western part of Lake Erie belonging
to the United States. Its near neighbour, Blackrock,
was, for a short period, its determined competitor; but
from some cause or other, it was obliged to yield the
palm to its more fortunate rival. In the last war with
England, Buffalo had arrived at some little importance,
for.it was then a moderate-sized village, and possessed
two or three trading vessels of forty or fifty tons burden
each; but owing to the town of Fort George, in Upper
Canada, having .been wantonly burned down by the
American troops, a part of the British army crossed
over from Fort Erie and utterly destroyed the village
of Buffalo, in the barbarous spirit of retaliation. Both
towns were speedily rebuilt after the close of the war
of 1812 and 1813; but although Fort George has re-
gained its original size after a lapse of upwards of
twenty years, Buffalo has not been satisfied with its
former consequence; for at this moment it is a city
containing 12,000 or 15,000 inhabitants. No other
inland town in the United States, not excepting even
Pittsburg, possesses the commercial importance that
Buffalo does, for it enjoys nearly all the trade and
traffic of the vast and improving’ region of country °
connected with the lakes to the westward. The great
western canal, extending all the way from Albany, a
distance of 362 miles, terminates here; so that the.
produce of the west can be discharged from the vessels
that navigate the lakes into the splendid canal boats,
which, after reaching Albany, on the Hudson river, can
be towed to New York by steam-boats, or enter the.
northern canal, which communicates with Lake Cham-
plain, and thence by a railroad to the St. Lawrence
river, near Montreal. Although the harbour is per-
fectly safe when once within the bar at the mouth of
Buffalo creek (for such the small but deep river 1s
called), yet, when the wind is unfavourable, sailing
vessels find the passage both dangerous and difficult.
But since steam-boats became more general, the enter-
prising. inhabitants have, in a great measure, discarded
sailing vessels; and instead of large schooners, sloops,
and bries, we now see the harbour filled with steam-
boats of various sizes, from 100 to 500 tons burden.
The produce of foreign countries is conveyed directly
from New York to this emporium of the west; so that
eoods which arrive in that city from Kvurope, will often
reach Buffalo in Jess than two weeks; and the settle-
86
ments on the extreme shores of Michigan in ten days
more. ‘The number of steam-boats plying to and from
Buffalo at present amounts to nearly forty; but these
do not comprise the whole of the steam-vessels on the
lake, for there are a few employed on the Canadian or
British side, besides some few opposition ones connected
with Blackrock. ‘Twenty years ago there was not a
single steam-boat navigating Lake Ene. ‘The distance
from Buffalo to the southern extremity of Lake Michi-
gan is about 1000 miles, and to those remote regions
some of the vessels make occasional trips, supplying the
inhabitants with such foreign merchandise as they may
stand in need of; and in return taking away their
surplus produce, and whateyer else the country affords
that can be made available to the trader’s purpose.
But, like all other ports situated in the region of the
Great. Lakes, Buffalo is no longer a port of entry after
winter sets in; for not only does the canal and the
creek or harbour become closed by ice, but the adjoin-
ing part of the lake closes to an. extent of ten, twenty,
or forty miles, according to the severity of the winter.
The navigation generally closes early.in December,
and, except in very mild seasons, does not open before
the beginning of May; so that there is a considerable
portion of the year that navigation of all sorts is sus-
pended. This of course must be a great disadvantage ;
but as it may always be safely calculated upon, the
people make their arrangements accordingly, and there-
fore feel it the less inconvenient.
The city of Buffalo stands upon a slight eminence,
ascending gradually from the harbour towards the north-
east; having one wide and specious avenue along its
centre, with various other streets branching off to the
right and left. Unlike most of the new towns the
buildings are generally of brick, especially in the prin-
cipal streets; and some of the churches and other public
buildings are also of the same material. The banks of
the muddy creek, which twenty years ago were a forest,
are now formed into commodious wharfs, with ranges of
Jarge warehouses containing the produce of every quar-
ter of the globe. Such are some of the rapid changes
that take place on the American continent. Within three
or four miles of this city there is an Indian settlement,
containing several hundreds of the aboriginal inhabit-
ants of the wilderness; and although you daily behold
scores of them loitering about in the town of Buffalo,
yet they continue to be as distinct a people as when the
first white settlers came amongst them. ‘They have a
district of land set apart for their sole use and benefit ;
and in consideration of their warriors joining in the
cause of the United States in the last war, and in order
to keep them attached to that country, the American
government allows them annual pensions, the amount
of which enables them to purchase a variety of stone
goods, which otherwise they would not have the means
of procuring. ‘They cultivate small patches of Indian
corn and potatoes; and some of the more wealthy and
industrious amongst them keep two or three cows, and
a few of the leaders possess pretty good horses. They
fish and hunt a little, make legeins and moccasins, and
manufacture some small coarse baskets; but upon the
whole, they are rather a nuisance than a benefit to the
adjoining city.
. The town of Blackrock is of still more recent growth
than Buffalo, and the two places are only two miles
apart. It is situated alone the eastern bank of the
Niagara river, a little below where it issues from Lake
Erie. The bank is high and shelving, so that although
warehouses and storehouses are ranged alone the bot-
tom of the declivity, the principal part of the town
stands upon the higher ground at the top of the bank.
At this place there is one of the most stupendous works
of art connected with the continent of America, for it
THE PENNY MAGAZINE,
[Marcu 4,
was here that the great western canal originally termi-
nated. As it was next to impossible to bring the canal
along the steep declivity already spoken of, and yet
indispensably necessary that it shonid be supplied with
water from the adjoining lake, a plan was adopted
which would not only answer the desired purpose, but
would at the same time form a secure and eligible.
harbour for vessels navigating the lake. Jn order to
make the matter perfectly intelligible, it may be ob-
served that the river at this place is 700 or 800 yards
wide, and about twelve or fourteen feet deep, and run-
ning with a velocity of seven miles per hour over a
somewhat. irregular bed of limestone rock. ‘The tur-
moil which is caused by the rapidity with which the
river rushes over the rocks is almost inconceivable; but.
} it seems that it was not sufficient to deter American
enterprise. The waters of this rapid outlet had to be.
raised many feet in order to their being introduced into
the canal; and to accomplish this object, aud at the
same time make a secure harbour, a ponderous pier-
wall, of two miles in length, was erected in the river,
at the distance of 100 yards from the shore, and nearly
parallel therewith, resting the lower end of the pier
upon an island—and uniting the lower part of the
island with the mainland by a strone and powerful
barrier ; by which means instead of the water falling
rapidly, as it did in the original channel, the enclosed
portion thereof within the pier assumed an artificial
level; and the canal could be supplied by a communi-
cating loch with any quantity that might be useful.
This pier-wall was a work of immense labour aud ex-
pense, but in spite of every difficulty it was completed.
It is not a wall of pure masonry, but is a series of
huge frames of timber, formed of immense trees squared,
and firmly joined together at the ends as well as in the
centre. These frames being sunk, and then anchored
in their places, were severally filled with common
stones from the neighbouring quarries, and afterwards
filled in with pebble-stones and branches of trees and
coarse o@ravel, in order that they might be as solid as
possible. ‘The cribs, as they were called, were ahout
12 feet wide, and they would average nearly 18 feet in
height or depth; so that the wall of two miles in length
would not contain less than 2,280,960 cubic feet of
solid timber and stone; while the pressure upon the
inner side, a few feet above the original level of the
river, was so great that the upper parts of this immense
fabric occasionally gave way. However, when it did
so, the injury was quickly repaired, and the falling
part strengthened ; so that m a short time this won-
derful undertaking became perfectly secure. Yet after
this beautiful harbour was completed, the trade of the
lakes could not be drawn from Buffalo; and at the
present time where one vessel frequents the Blackrock
harbour, a dozen or more enter the confined and incone |
venient creek at Buffalo.
There is a ferry across the river from Blackrock to
Waterloo, on the Canadian side, which is owned by the
respective governments of the two countries, and which
is more frequented than any other ferry between the
provinces and the United States; for it is the principal
route from the States to the Falls of Niagara, which,
for many years, has been one of the principal “ lions ”
with the American merchants when they turn tourists,
during a few weeks in the hoitest and dustiest part of
the summer. But Waterloo is still but a hamlet; and
although an enterprising individual has shown that the
waters of the mighty Niagara might be made subser-
vient to the geueral purposes to which water-power can
be mechanically applied, yet, excepting his own single
establishment, they are permitted to flow uselessly past.
The fact is simply this—there is a general want of
elterprise amongst the inhabitants of our North Ameri-
1837.}
can colonies ; and the inhabitants of Waterloo partake
of this generally prevailing apathy.
The hamlet of Fort Erie consists of half-a-dozen
small dwellings, besides two or three storehouses; and
although it is no longer a military station, there is yet
sufficient of the original fort and its out-works remain-
ing to render it a place of some little interest to the
inquiring traveller. In the last war with America it
was the scene of considerable contention; and so long
as it remained tenable the possession of it was eagerly
souclt by both parties. During that strugele an ex-
plosion took place—an accidental one it was considered
—that reduced a portion of it to ruins, at the same time
that it destroyed a number of gallant British soldiers ;
and never since has the fort been repaired. It is de-
lightfully situated, near the outlet of the lake, with the
harbour of Buffalo immediately opposite, at the distance
of three miles. The beach is a continued bed of rock,
but falls off so rapidly that vessels of 100 tons burden
can approach pretty near to the storehouses.
and Cntario, by means of the Welland canal, Fort Erie
enjoyed some carrying-trade of government stores and
so forth; which, after being carted from the Ontario
vessels at Queenston to the village of Chippawa, above
the Falls, were then boated up to Fort Erie, and there
shipped for the settlements in the far west. But now the
largest lake vessels pass through this wide and deep
canal ; so that Fort Erie, as a lake port, has fallen into
comparative neglect. The land around the fort belongs
to the government, which prevents the few inhabitants
from engaging in agricultural pursuits; and thus the
primeval forests remain solitary and uninhabited.
THE CICADA SEPTENDECIM.
(Eatrasted from Latrobe's ‘ Travels in North America, )
Tue observation of a past century had shown the in-
habitants of Maryland and Pennsylvania that every
seventeenth year they were visited by a countless horde
cf insects of the cicada tribe, hence called Septendecim ;
distinct in aspect and habits from those whose annual
appearance and mode of life were understood. Though
of a different tribe, and with perfectly different habits
from the locust of the East (Gryllus migratorius), the
fact of its occasional appearance, as though by magic,
in such vast swarms, had caused it to be fainiliarly
alluded to bythat name. [Its last appearance had been
in 1817, and its reappearance was thus confidently pre-
dieted for the third or fourth week in May this year
(1834). Nature, true to her impulses, and the laws
by which she is so mysteriously governed, did not fail
to fulfil the prediction. On the 24th May and following
day the whole surface of the country in and about the
city of Philadelphia suddenly teemed with this singular
insect. The subject interested me, and as, during those
days, I had every opportunity of being daily, nay hourly,
attentive to the phenomena connected with it, both here
and in Maryland, I send you the result of my obser-
vations. The first day of their appearance their num-
bers were comparatively few; the second they came by
myriads ; and yet a day or two might pass before they
reached their full number. I happened to be abroad
the bright sunny morning which might be called the
day of their birth. At early morning the insect, in the
pupa state, may be observed issuing from the earth in
every direction, by the help of a set of strongly-barbed
claws on the fore-legs. Its colour then is of a uniform
dull brown, and it strongly resembles the perfect insect
in form, excepting the absence of wings, ornaments and
antenne. ‘The first impulse of the imperfect insect on
detaching itself. from its grave is to ascend a few inches,
or even feet, up the trunks of trees, at the foot of which
their holes appear in the greatest number, or upon the
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
Before
a navigable channel was opened between Jakes Erie
87.
rail fences, which are soon thiekly sprinkled with them.
In these positions they straightway fix themselves
firmly by their barbed claws. Half an hour’s obser-
vation will then show you the next change which is
to be undergone. A split takes place upon the shell.
down from the back of the head to the commence-
ment of the rings of the abdomen, and the labour of :
self-extrication follows. With many a throe and many »
a strain you see the tail and hind lees appear through
the rent, then the wings extricate themselves painfully
from a little case in the outer shell, in which they lie
exquisitely folded up, but do not yet unfurl themselves;
and, lastly, the head, with its antenna, disengages
itself, and you behold before yon the new-born insect
freed from its prison. The slough is not disengaged,
but remains firmly fixed in the fibres of the wood, and
the insect langnidly crawling a few inches, remains ag
it were in a doze of wonder and astonishment. It is
rather under an inch in length, ahd appears humid and
tender; the colours are dull, the eye glazed, the lees
feeble, and the wings for a while after they are opened
appear crumpled and unelastic. All this passes before
the sun has gained his full strength. As the day ad-
vances, the colours of the insect become more lively,
the wings attain their full stretch, and the body dries
and is braced up for its future little life of activity and
enjoyment.
Between ten and eleven the newly-risen tribes begin
to tune their instruments. You become conscious of a
sound filling the air far and wide, different from the
ordinary ones which may meet your ear. A low dis-
tinct hum salutes you, turn where you will. It may
be compared to the simmering of an enormous cal-
dron; it swells imperceptibly, changes its character,
and becomes fuller and sharper. Thousands seem to
jom in; and by an hour after mid-day the whole
country, far and wide, rings with the unwonted sound.
The insects are now seen lodged in or flying about the
foliage above, a few hours having been thus sufficient
to give them full strength and activity, and bring them
into full voice. Well may the schoolboy and curly-
headed negro rejoice at the sound; for their hands will
never want a plaything for many days to come! Well
may the birds of the forest rejoice; for this is the sea-
son of plenty for them. The pigs and poultry, too,
they fatten on the innumerable swarms which before
many days will cover the ground in the decline of their
strength. The pretty insect—for it is truly such—
with its dark body, red eyes, and its elessy wings,
interlaced by bright yellow fibres, enjoys but a little
week; and that merry harping’ which pervades crea-
tion from sunrise to sundown for the time of its conti-
nuance, 1s but of some six days’ duration. Its character
would be almost impossible to describe, though it rings
in my ears every time I think of the insect. Like all
those of its tribe, the sound produced is not a voice, but
a strong vibration of musical chords, produced by the
action of internal muscles upon a species of lyre or
elastic membrane covered with net-work, and situated
under the wings, the action of which I have often wit-
nessed. ‘The female insect may utter a faint sound,
but how I do not know; it is the male who is endowed
with the powerful means of instrumentation which I
have described. Though the sound is generally even
and continuous as long as the insect is uninterrupted,
yet there is a droll variety observable at times; but
what it expresses, whether peculiar satisfaction or jea-
lousy, or what other passion, I cannot divine. It has
been well described by the word Pha—ro/ the first
syllable being long and sustained, and connected with’
the second, which is pitched nearly an octave lower by
a drawling smorzando descent. During the whole
period of their existence the closest attention does not
detect their eating anything, and with the exception of
&8
the trifling injury received by trees consequent upon
the process observed by the female in laying her eros,
they are perfectly innoxious. The end to which they
seem to be sent to.the upper day is purely confined to
the propagation -.af . their species. A. few days after
their first appearance, the female begins to lay her
egos. She is furnished with an ovapositor situated in
a sheath on the abdomen, composed of two serrated
hard parallel spines, which she has the power of work-
ine’ with an alternate perpendicular motion. When
her iime comes, she selects of the outermost twigs of
the forest trees or shrubs, and sets to work and makes
a series of longitudinal jagged incisions in the tender
bark and wood. In each of these she lays a row of
tiny eges, and then goes to work again. Having de-
posited to the heart’s content, she crawls up the twig a
few inches yet further from the termination, and placing
herself in a fitting position, makes two or three per-
pendicular casts into the very pith. ‘The duty is now
terminated. Both.male and female become weak, the
former ceases to be tuneful; the charm of their exist-
ence is at an end; they-pine away, become blind, fall
to the ground by myriads, and in ten or fifteen days
after their first appearance they all perish. Not so,
however, their seeds. The perforated twigs die; the
first wind breaks them from the tree, and scatters them
upon the ground. The eggs give birth to a number of
small erubs, which are thus enabled to attain the mould
without injury; and in it they disappear, digging their
way down into the bosom of the earth. Year goes
after year—summer after summer; the sun shines in
vain to them—they “ bide their time!” ‘The recollec-
tion of their existence begins to fade—a generation
passes away; the, surface of the country is altered,
lands are reclaimed from the forest, streets are laid out
and trampled on for years, houses are built, and pave-
ments hide the soil—still, though man may almost
forget their existence, God does not. What their life
is in the long interval none can divine. Traces of them
have been found in digging wells aud foundations eight
and ten feet under the surface. ‘When seventeen years
have gone by, the memory of them returns, and they
are expected. A cold wet spring may retard their ap-
pearance, but never since the attention of man_ has
been directed to them have they. failed; but at the ap-
pointed time, by one common impulse, they rise from
the earth, piercing their way through the matted sod,
through the hard-trampled clay of the pathways, through
the gravel, between the joints of the stones and pave-
ments, and into the very cellars of the houses, like their
predecessors, to be a marvel in the land, to sing their
blithe sone of love and enjoyment under the bright
sun, and amidst the verdant landscape—like them, to
fulfil the brief duties of their species, and close their
mysterious existence by death. We are still children
in the small measure of our knowledge and compre-
hension with reeard to the phenomena of the natural
world! All things considered, we may venture to
prophesy the reappearance of the Cicada Septendecim
on the coasts of Maryland and Virginia for the year
1851*. I may still mention, that I took care to ascer-
tain that all these insects sang in one uniform musical
key, and that this key was C sharp. ;
* There is one surmise of the truth of whieh I should wish to
be assured, or hear corrected. The preceding year, 1833, I ob-
served, while travelling between Abingdon and Knoxville, in
Upper Virginia, the sudden appearance of what appeared to me
the same species of cicada, attended with circumstances of an
exactly similar character to those I have been describing. Spe-
cimens of both were sent by me to Europe at different times, but
I have not had an opportunity of comparing them. Little doubt
rests on my own mind but they were exactly of the same species ;
and what I should infer from the fact, 1f true, 1s, that however
exactly the period of their appearance has been ascertained, they
may still appear in different parts of the country in different years.
But this point careful observation will soon determine.
THE PENNY MAGAZINE,
[Marcu 4, 1837.
NATURAL HISTORY SOCIETIES.
(From a Lecture by Dr. Conolly, on the Formation of Natural
Eistory Societies.)
Arter having enumerated the objects which may be use-
fully comprehended in Natural History Societies, Dr. Co-
nolly said :—‘* My younger hearers will I hope be convinged
that among the subjects taught in such a society, and illus-
trated in a museum, are many that will not only improve
their knowledge, but add to their happiness; and as they .
grow older they will experience that this noble science
excites and improves all their highest faculties; affords
salutary exercise to the senses, disciplines the attention,
strengthens the memory, improves the judgment, and at the
same time elevates the imagination, yet calms the disturbing
passions, and calls forth all the best feelings of the heart.
I might remind them of the triumphs of this science over
all difficulties ; of Sir Joseph Banks pursuing it when denied
access to a distant shore visited merely for its sake; of
Swainson pursuing it in sickness, and Hauy in prison; of
Mungo Park cheered by the contemplation of a simple moss
in solitude, danger, and distress; of Rumphius and Huber
following it although deprived of the blessing of sight; of
Limonier compelled to sell herbs, yet still studying, once
the first physician to Louis XVI.; of Linnzeus devoting
himself to it in poverty; of Ray beginning his work on
insects in old age (75); of Daubenton and of Cuvier dying
placidly—paralyzed but still breathing—and noting in them-
selves the phenomena of advancing death with calm and
cheerful resignation. With the writings of many of these
ereat men, however, I trust they will become well acquainted ;
and it is peculiarly delightful to reflect that of most or all of
them the life and death were not unbecoming of men who
had passed the greater par§ of their hours in contemplating
and describing the works of an Almighty hand, on which
in death, as in life, they must have learned that they de-
pended. i
“The countless institutions founded in our own time, to
watch human beings, as it were, from the cradle to the
grave ; to assist, in every class of life, the infant, the child,
the youth, the man; and to succour the weak, the destitute,
the sickly, the afflicted, ‘are so many exertions of- good
feelings which,we may venture to say are regarded with
approbation by the Deity from whom those feelings came.
All the great efforts making to diffuse instruction, partake
of the same character, tend to the same resu/t. Therefore
do I believe that the institutions of the present age, com-
‘memorative of real and great improvement, are ofa nature
to remain for the example of future times, until all human
institutions have fulfilled their office, all human -labours
have been performed, and the great book of human destiny
is closed.
“Amidst these institutions, we may always reflect with
pleasure upon those of which the object is to unfold the
wonders of the earth—to display the beauties of the vege-
table world—to exhibit the various forms of animal life and
enjoyment—to investigate the properties and influences of
the air, and to develope the causes of disease and suffering,
of misfortune, crime, and premature mortality, in order
that they may be avoided, and the happiness of all rational
creatures increased. All these seem in every way the proper
subjects of man’s contemplation. The views they encourage
blend with those higher views which are directed towards
another and more glorious world, where all that is beautiful
in sense and affection, all that is great in intellect, may yet
be found, but amplified and raised, where virtue will be
enlarged, and where sorrow and pain will have no place; and
lastly, where the soul, purified and freed, may yet be occu-
pied in the contemplation of the endless works of God, and
find in that contemplation new motives for obedience, for
thankfulness, and for praise.”
Benefit of Machinery.—There is this 1inmense benefit in
machinery, that it carries on those operations which debase
the mind and injure the faculties. A man, by constantly
performing the same operations, becomes unfit for any
other. Machinery requires attention, intellectual exertion,
and bodily labour of various kinds.—Sir Humphry Davy.
*.* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at
59, Lincoln’s Inn Fields. 5
LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT & CO., 22, LUDGATE STREET.
Piinted by WILLIAM CLOWES and Sons, Stamford Street.
THE PENNY MAGAZINE
OF THE
society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge.
317.1
PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY.
[Marcu 11, 1837.
A LOOKING-GLASS FOR LONDON.—No. VI,
FirE-INSURANCE, SuprLy oF Water, GaAs, Pavine, SEWERAGE.
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[Fish Street Hill, Monument, and St. Magnus’ Church, with Procession of Firemen. ]
THE engraving at the head of this article supplies an
illustration of the fact that, however sharp and attentive
individuals may be to their particular interests, commu-
nities learn slowly what is best for the general health,
convenience, and comfort. ‘That tall column, “‘ pointing
to the skies,” commemorates a terrible event (° Penny
Magazine,’ vol. ii. p. 342) which weeded out the narrow
streets and lanes where the plague, in its frequent
visits, found the filth, discomfort, and misery on which
it fed: yet, in spite of the warning, too many narrow
streets sprung up on the site of those burned down;
and the Monument on Fish Street Hill not only bore
testimony to the great calamity which ultimately proved
so beneficial, but seemed to rear its head over the nar-
row streets around it, as if to say, here, at least, another
“Great Plague,” or another “ Great Fire,” may find
materials on which to work. Happily, neither pesti-
lence nor fire, in aggravated forms, has visited us
since the latter half of the seventeenth century—thanks,
in a great measure, to our improved municipal arrange-
ments: but it was not till the erection of new London
bridge and its approaches, that Fish Street Hill assumed
the handsome appearance it now presents. It looked
very different a few years aco.
This leads us to take a view of a very important depart-
ment of the social characteristics of London; the means
by which it is secured and insured from the ravages of
fire; the supply of water; of gas; the paving and the
sewerage. On all these combined, depend a great
not the greatness arising merely from magnificent
public buildings or establishments, but that which com-
municates to the mass of the inhabitants the largest
amount of social security, of enjoyment, of convenience,
and of comfort. In all these respects London has much
to improve: yet its inhabitants enjoy more of them in
a single day, than the inhabitants of imperial Rome did
in a year, with all its wonderful monuments and public
places of resort.
We have hitherto had no special fire-preventive po-
lice, nor have we yet, under the direction of the govern-
ment or municipal authorities. The law merely requires
parishes to keep fire-engines and ladders in certain
places, and to provide stop-blocks and fire-cocks on the
mains of the water-works. Gratuities are also directed
to be paid to engine-keepers, &c., who arrive earliest at
any fire for the purpose of extinguishing it. ‘The fire-
insurance companies, however, have always kept up at
their own expense a fire police. Formerly, each com-
pany had a distinct body of firemen, who were chiefly
selected from the watermen; these had a peculiar garb,
and wore the badges of the companies to which they
belonged. They had annual processions and dinners.
When an alarm of fire was communicated to one of
them, he ran on to rouse his nearest companion, and
having done so proceeded to the fire ; the second went
to alarm a third, and so on, till the whole body were
roused. Ingenious as this was, there was a want of
co-operation and a loss of time frequently experienced.
many of the causes which make a city really great; |The firemen pursued their usual avocations on the
Vor. VI.
90
river when not required to perform their occasional -
duties, and when an alarm of fire was raised during
the night most of them might be sound asleep after
the labours of the day. To obviate the evils arising
from the employment of occasional servants, the greater
number of the London fire insurance companies joined
together, about four years ago, to form a permanent
body of firemen, ready at all hours to give immediate
aitendance at fires. This is termed the ‘ London Fire-
Engine Establishment,’ and is supported at the ex-
pense of the following: fire-insurance companies :—The
Alliance, Atlas, British, Globe, Guardian, Hand-in-
Hand, Imperial, London, Norwich Union, Phoenix,
Protector, Royal Exchange, Scottish Union, Sun, Union,
and Westminster; and these have been joined recently
by the ‘‘ Licensed Victnallers’ Society.” ‘This fire
establishment, instead of being under distinct officers
appointed by each company, are embodied under the
direction of a superintendent, with foremen and engi-
neers under him, appointed to certain stations. At
these stations there is constant attendance day and
night. The firemen are clothed in a uniform of dark
orey, with their numbers in red on their left breasts.
They wear strone leather helmets on their heads, which
have been found of great service in protecting them
from accidents occasioned by the fall of walls or other
matters. The stations are in Ratcliffe, St. Mary Axe,
Finsbury, Cheapside, Blackfriars, Holborn, Covent
Garden, St. Giles’s, Oxford Street, Golden Square,
Portman Square, Waterloo Bridge Road, Southwark
Bridge Road, Tooley Street; with extra engines in
Shadwell, Westminster, Lambeth, and MHotherhithe.
The men appointed to this latter station have also the
care of a floating-engine on the river, off Rotherhithe.
The number of men on the fire-engine establishinent is
between ninety and a hundred.
In addition to this special fire-preventive body, it is
the duty of the metropolitan police to give assistance
in case of fire. In 1830 there were 380 fires attended
by this body, and 51 lives saved; in 1831 the number
of fires was 324, and the individuals saved 68 ; in 1832
there were: 252 fires, and 47 saved. ‘This does not
include the fires which occurred in the “‘ city” of
London. | ,
Sixteen fire-insurance companies of London paid, in
1835, upwards of 600,000/. of duty on fire insurances
effected in their different establishments. The rate of
duty is 3s. per cent. These companies, by means of
their branches, take the greater portion of the in-
snrances effected in Britain. Thus, for instance, the
farming-stock insured in England in 1835, exempt from
insurance duty, amounted to more than 41,000,0001.
Of this amount the Norwich Union had insured up-
wards of 8,000,000/., the County miore than 5,000,0002.,
the Sun nearly 5,000,000/., and the Pheenix and Royal
Exchange each about 3,500,000.
ADVENTURES IN EGYPT AND SYRIA.
[In a previous Number of the ‘Penny Magazine’ (295) we VAVe
some extracts from a Manuseript Journal of Francesco Cava-
hero. We shall continue his story in two or three papers,
connecting his narrative with such explanatory observations as
may be necessary for understanding it. |
In describing the hollow squares into which the French
infantry were obliged to form in order to resist the im-
petuous attacks of the Mameluke cavalry, our Italian
journalist has omitted to mention a circumstance with
which he must have been well acquainted, as he tells
us he himself took refuge with his master’s bageage
more than once within those squares. ‘The Repnblican
army was accompanied by a numerous troop of artists,
sntiquaries, and inen of letters, as Monge, Denon, and
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
[Marcu 1],
others of less note, who were to make designs of the
temples, pyramids, and the rest, and examine and de-
scribe the land of Egypt while Bonaparte conquered it.
These civilians were all classed by the Soldiery under
the general name of savans, or learned men; and as
their previous habits of life had probably not fitted them
to manage the fleet and spirited horses of Arabia and
Nubia, messieurs the savans all rode upon asses. It
was very soon found that the projects they had formed
were not easily executed in the disturbed state of the
country caused by a foreign invasion, and that neither
artists nor authors conld safely trust themselves any-
where unless there was a strong French force at hand
to protect them. ‘T’he savans, therefore, marched on
their donkeys with the divisions of the army; and as
the Mamelukes multiplied their attacks and surprises
in all directions, it became necessary for their own safety
to subject them to some military orders and manceuvres.
In consequence, an order of the day appeared, stating
very soberly, that at the appearance of the enemy the
troops should all form in squares, and messieurs the
savans throw themselves in the middle of these squares,
where they would be out of harm’s way. The savans
and their asses had not escaped ridicule before, but this
ordre de jour, which created a roar of laughter through
all the army, rank, and file, became the gronndwork
of innumerable jokes. Whenever an alarm was given,
and the squares began to form, the soldiers shouted
out, “ Faites place aux Gnes et aux savans,’ (make
room for the asses and the learned men) and these
wicked wits accustomed themselves to call an ass, on
all occasions, a demi-savant. Such were the sports of
these volatile men, even when they were surrounded
with the greatest dangers and privations, and suffering
and committing horrid barbarities. It appears, how-
ever, that even the common soldiers were not indifferent
either to the sublime objects they saw, or to the pursuits
of the artists and men of letters, whom they cordially
assisted in all their operations. Denon tells us that he
drew his first view of the Pyramids on the knees of some
of the soldiers, which served him for a table, and their
bodies for a shade against the insupportable glare and
heat of the sun. At Tentyra the whole army was over-
powered by an electric emotion, and men and officers,
without giving or receiving orders, turned aside from
the route, and remained of their own accord during the
rest of the day among those sublime ruins. At Thebes
again, the whole army stopped short; in astonishment
at what they beheld, and clapped their hands!
But we must turn to less agreeable subjects of con-
templation. Soon after his return from Boulac, Cava-
lero accompanied his master, Colonel Brouné, in Bona-
parte’s fatal Syrian expedition and sie@e of Acre. His
journal is thus continned :—
‘<The two flotillas from Alexandria and Damietta
having arrived, with provisions, ammunition, and
stores of all kinds, in the month of February following,
the army, which consisted of abont 20,000 men*, began
their march from Grand Cairo. We found the roads
tolerably good for about seventy or eighty miles, pass-
ing through many villages, and the strrounding coun-
try being well cultivated: After passing this delicht-
ful country, we soon entered the sand-plains, where we
encamped for a few days, in consequence of many of
the men being much fatigued, and others afflicted with
sore eyes : several of the latter were sent back to Grand
Cairo. A few days after this we continued our march
through these plains, where we saw nothing’ else for
* This number is over-rated. Bonaparte only tock about
12,500 men into Syma. They were divided into four divisions
of infantry, under Generals Kleber, Regnier, Lannes, and Bon,
Murat commanded the cavalry, which amounted to SU0. Bona-
parte mounted a small detachment upon dromedaries,—and this
ree the source of many more jokes among the horse-soldiers:
e— iD, i
1837.]
many miles but the sky and burning sands, which
occasioned many of the men to murmur, and exclaim
they could not endure the heat. At length we entered
Syria, where we found the climate cold, with showers
of rain. We had not been more than two days in
this country when the army was surprised and attacked
by a body of Mameluke and Syrian Arabs, who sprang
fron behind the sand-hills upon the vanguard in full
gallop, and cut a great number to pieces; then, wheel-
ing upon the flank of the army, discharged their fire-
arms, which made dreadful havoc upon the scattered
parties, after which they retired again at full gallop
behind the sand-hills.
reat many men. After this attack the accoutrements
of a Mameluke’s horse were found, upon which there
were nine ponnds of solid gold. We had no other
means of conveying the wounded -but by placing eight
or ten upon the back of a camel*; in this manner
we continued our march. At length we came to the
borders of a small river, about three feet deep and
thirty in breadth, which we ferded ; and after the army
had crossed, we halted to refresh the men.
‘The next day we came in sight of Jaffa, which was
immediately attacked, and the town carried by storm.
The garrison, which consisted of about 5000 ‘Turkish
troops, was put to death.” ‘The siege and capture of
E| Arish took place before the storming of Jaffa, but
probably Cavalitero’s division was not present. The
massacre of the prisoners of Jaffa was the darkest deed
in the life of Bonaparte. They were not cut down
and shot in the assault and storm, but murdered in
cold blood, some hours after,.outside the town. Ac-
cording to a more official estimate they were 3500
strong at the beginning of the siege. Cayaliero con-
tinues: ‘‘ Here the stay of the army was very short, as
they soon received orders to march again towards thie
vlain of Nazareth, which we shortly came in sight of,
and where the whole army assembled and took their
course towards Mount Carmel, from whence a body of
troops were ordered towards the sea-side. On their
arrival there they were attacked by some. eun-boats, at
which intelligence the army was put in motion, and
marched towards the town of Acre. Unfortunately, in
this march I caught the disorder in my eyes which
several of the soldiers had been afflicted with. The
pain was so violent that I was unable to guide my
horse, and at length became totally blind. ‘The army
arriving within two or three miles of Acre, they en-
camped, and I was taken to one of Colonel Broune’s
tents, where I had the advice of the doctor, who gave
me a mixture, desiring me to wash my eyes frequently
with it, which relieved the pain much. I continued
blind for sixteen or eighteen days. On, my recovering
my sight I observed the army was in great confusion,
and Bonaparte quite in distress to see his flotilla taken
before his eyes by a British squadron. ‘This flotilla
came from Alexandria and Damietta, loaded with all
kinds of provisions and stores, intended for the siege of
Acre. One of the vessels by chance escaped, and got
on shore, which was loaded with flour, and two brass
twenty-fonr pounders, but no carriages or ammunition,
In consequence of this disaster, he was obliged to begin
the siege with very small metal, six, and nine, and
twelve-pound field-pieces, and with these they made a
breach in the wall. We mounted the breach, and got
inside the town, but were soon repulsed by the British
and ‘Turkish troops.” |
After this jirsé assault, General Kleber said, con-
* Larrey, the distinguished surgeon in chief of Bonaparte’s
armyy, devised means of carrying the wounded in panniers, one on
each side the camel’s hunch, so suspended as to give the least
possible motiou, and so constructed as to allow the sufferers to lie
at full length. In a country where there were no carriageable
roads, no better plan could have been adopted. The pace of the
dromedary, when not forced into speed, is very easy.—Ep,
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
In this attack Bonaparte lost a.
| 12. 2 Chron, ch, xxix. v. 16.
gl
fidently, Acre would not be taken. According to M.
Mict, a commissary in the French army, Bonaparte
began to batter in breach with only three twelve-
pounders. ‘The fortifications were in a rninous state ;
and he made sure of taking Acre as easily as he had
taken Jaffa. That wonderful man’s turn for oracular
expressions, which he retained to the last day of his life,
was first developed in these eastern expeditions. One
day, during the siege, he said to Murat, ‘“‘ The fate of
the eastern world is in that paltry-town ;—its fall is
the key to all my projects. Let us take it,—and then
Damascus falls,—all Syria is ours,x—and—who knows ?
—the whole Orient!” The convoy with the heavy
artillery was intercepted by Sir Sydney Smith; but
the French succeeded subsequently in landing a few
pieces at Jaffa, which were forwarded to Acre. Djez-
zar Pasha (who was in other respects 2 monster of
cruelty), a corps of Albanians, Sir Sydney Smith, and
a handful of British sailors, were the heroes of the
siege. Cavaliero continues :—
“In the month of April following (the siege had
begun on the 18th of March, 1799), a numerous body
of Turkish troops made a desperate sally from the town,
with the determination of destroying the camp; but
they were repulsed by our troops, who made them re-
tire again to the town, leaving a rreat number of dead
and wounded on the field of. battle; amongst the
former we found a British officer, who was buried by
our men with military honours.
‘‘We continued the siege, and again mounted the
breach once or twice, but each time were repulsed with
considerable loss; upon which Bonaparte was deter-
mined to undermine and blow up the town. He put
it in foree by springing a mine, but it had not the
desired effect, only the outer rampart being blown up.
Both our provisions and ammunition now beean to
run very short throughout the camp, in consequence of
which we were obliged to kill the horses and camels;
and had it not been for the inhabitants of Jerusalem
and Mount Lebanon, who now and then brought pro-
visions and fruit to the camp, we must have been very
much distressed for the want of provisions. Many of
these people were very clever, and made us many
articles we were in want of.” __
The peasantry of Palestine and all the coast of Syria
detested Djezzar, the Pasha of ‘Acre, on account of his
cruelty and rapacity. At first they held the French as
Jiberators, and even kissed the cannon, which they
helped to place in battery against him. ‘They permitted
the. soldiery to stray about the country, and helped
them to fill and carry their water-skins. The venerable
brook Kedron, so often named in the Scriptures *, was
the source which mainly supplied the besieging camp,
bnt its waters were found to be very unwholesome,
causing colics and diarrhoeas, and disposing the system
to putrid and nervous fevers. The besiewers soon lcst
the eood opinion of the peasantry. According to Cava-
liero, Bonaparte kept three small dromedary corps
constantly on the road between Acre, Damietta and
Cairo.
‘* "These dromedaries were mounted by the soldiers,
dressed as Mamelukes ; saddles were made to fit them,
their bridles were strings put through each nostril, by
which the riders guided them; and in case of being
attacked they dismounted, and made them lie down.
and the men stood behind the animals and fired upon
their enemies, and when charged by cavalry they
mounted again and went off in a full trot, which is so,
swift that the horse-eannot keep up with them. When
in the sands, these animals are very useful, as they will
cross the deserts in half the time a horse would, and
- * And Asa destroyed her idol and burned it by the brook
Kedron, 1 Kings, ch. xv. v. 13, See also 2 Kings, ch, xxiv. 6,
St. John xvili. v.1., &c,
N 2
32
bear a long journey much better without either eating _
or drinking. A detachment of these dromedaries, with
provisions and ammunition, was lost in the deserts, and
supposed to have been buried by one of the whirlwind
sands. At this time Bonaparte was so much in want
of shot, that he offered large sums to any one that
would bring shots of any description, either those fired
from the’ town or from the English ships, not caring
which way they were got as long as he could procure
them, as some of them would fit the calibre of cannon | many other brave men and officers.
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
[Marcu ll,
he had; and when sufficient quantity was obtainea, he
fired continually till they made a breach wide enough
to admit eight or ten men abreasttoenter. ‘The troops
mounted it and stood alone resistance, but at length
were obliged to retreat, with the loss of four or five
companies, principally grenadiers. A good many of
them took refuge in a mosque, where it was supposed
they were massacred by the Turks. General Rampoon
was taken on the beach, and was cut in pieces, as also
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[The Male and Female Lyre-Bird.]
Tue beautiful bird of which the plate at the head of the
present article represents a male and female, is a native
of Australia, and both from its appearance, and the
difficulty experienced in determining its affinities, has
attracted the special attention of naturalists. M. Vieillot,
in his work on the ‘ Birds of Paradise,’ figures the
lyre-bird (menura superba, Davies in Lin. Trans.)
under the title of Paradisea Parkinsoniana, m honour
of J. Parkinson, Esq., of the Leverian Museum, through
whose means he received a drawing of it; and Shaw,
in his ‘ Naturalists’ Miscellany, 577, following Vieillot,
terms it the Parkinsonian Bird of Paradise. Voieillot,
however, was preceded in his description by General
Davies, who, in the year 1800, with juster views respect-
ing the bird in question, characterized it in the * Lin- |
nan Transactions,’ vol. vi., as the type of a new genus,
and gave it the appellation of Menura superba, which
is now its established title.
With respect to the affinities or natural situation in
the arrangement of the feathered tribes, which the
menura holds, there is considerable difference of opinion
among ornithologists, Vieillot, as we have said, placed
it among the birds of paradise. Dr. Shaw, in his
‘Zoology, and Dr. Latham, in his ‘ General History
of Birds, place it in the gallinaceous order, regarding: it
as allied to the curassows, pheasants, and fowls. Baron
Cuvier, in his ‘ Régne Animal,’ places it among the
‘ passereaux,” or passerine order, (Incessores, Vig..,)
observing that although “its size has induced some to
associate it with the gallinaceous group, the lyre-bird
1837.]
evidently belongs to the passerine order, its toes, except
the outer and middle, which are united together as far
as the first joint, being separated; it comes near the
thrushes in the form of the beak, which is triangular
at the base, and slightly compressed and notched at the
tip; the membranous nostrils are very large, and par-
tially covered with feathers as in the jays.”
That the lyre-bird is not a gallinaccous bird, we have
little hesitation in affirming; its size, as Cuvier ob-
serves, and more especially its terrestrial habits, which
may in some respects resemble those of a fowl, nave
contributed to the establishment of this opinion, which
the name mountain pheasant, given it by the colonists,
has probably helped to confirm, but which general cur-
rency does not necessarily render true. Neither in the
beak, the feet, nor (we may add) the plumage of the
lyre-bird, do we recognize the characters of one of the
gallinaceous order. On the other hand, there are
certain genera (pteroptocus, scytalopus, and megapo-
dius) usually regarded as forming part of the family of
thrushes (merulide); to which in every essential cha-
racter the genus menura closely approximates, and
with these it will we think be found to be in immediate
affinity. As however our object is not to enter into an
abstruse account of the affinities of genera, we shal]
‘add nothing (and much might be added) to the above
observation, but confine ourselves to the description
and the habits of this interesting and elegant bird.
‘The menura equals a common pheasant in size, but
its limbs are longer in proportion, and its feet much
larger; the toes are armed with large arched blunt
claws; the hind toe is as long as are tlie fore-toes (the
length of these being nearly equal), but its claw is
larger than that of any of the others; the scales of the.
tarsi and toes are large bold plates, and their colour is:
vlossy black; the’ head’is small, the beak, as Cuvier
lias described it, is triangular at the base, pointed and
compressed at the tip; in the male the feathers of the
head are elongated into a crest; the wing's are short,
concave, and rounded, and the quill-feathers are lax
and feeble; the weneral plumage is full, deep, soft, and.
downy. .The tail is modified into a beautiful long
plume-like ornament, representing, when erect and ex-
panded, the figure of a lyre, whence the name of lyre-
bird. This ornamental tail is, however, confined to the
male. In the female the tail is long and graduated,
and the feathers are perfectly webbed on both sides of
the shaft, although their texture is soft and flowing.
In the male the tail consists of sixteen feathers, of these
(see the plate) the outer one on each side is broadly
but loosely webbed within, its outer web being narrow ;
as it proceeds it curves outwards, bends in, and again
turns boldly outwards and downwards, both together
resembling the framework of an ancient lyre, of which
the intermediate feathers are the strings; these feathers,
except the two central, which are truly but narrowly
webbed on the outer side, consist each of a slender
shaft, with lone filamentous bubules, at a distance
from each other, and springing out alternately. ‘T’he
appearance of these feathers, the length of which 1s
about two feet, is peculiarly graceful; their colour is
amber brown, but the two outer tail-feathers are grey
tipped with black, edged with rufous, and transversely
marked on the inner web with transparent, triangular
bars. The general plumage ‘of the menura is amber
brown above, tinged with olive and merging into rufous
on the wings, and also on the throat. The under parts
are ashy grey. With respect to the habits of the lyre-
bird much yet remains to be known. Shaw, in.the
account he collected, observes that its powers of song
are very great :—‘* At the early part of the morning it
begins to sing, having a very fine natural note; and
cradually ascending some rocky eminence, scratches up
the ground in the manner of some of the pheasant tribe, |
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
93
elevating its tail, and at intervals imitating the notes of
every other bird within hearing; and having continued
this exercise for about two hours, again descends into
the valleys or lower grounds.” 7
It isin the hilly districts of Australia that the menura
Is to be found, and its manners are shy and recluse; it
is almost exclusively terrestrial, seldom taking wing, and
when forced to do so flying with labour and difficulty.
Dr. Latham remarks, “It is said that it will frequently
imitate the notes of other birds so as to deceive most
people ;’ and we may here add that the musical powers
of this bird, which we have been inclined to doubt, have
been confirmed to us by the testimony of a gentleman
who, during his residence in Australia, had many op-
portunities of gaining information on the subject, and
he assured us that not only were its own notes rich and
melodious, but that it imitated those of other birds with
surprising tact and execution. Mr. George Bennett,
however, who notices the menura in his ‘ Wanderings
in New South Wales,’ does not allude to this circum-
stance, one of considerable importance; he neither
confirms the statements of Shaw and others respecting
its powers of sone’, nor refutes them as erroneous. His
information is nevertheless interesting. ‘The native
naines of the menura, according to this gentleman, are
‘Sbéleck béleck,” and ‘‘ balangara;’’ it is common in
the mountain ranges in all parts of the colony of New
South Wales, but it has been inuch thinned in its num-
bers in some districts, in consequence of the tail-feathers
of the male being saleable at Sidney, where they are
highly valued. In the ranges of the Illawarra district,
where it once abounded, the mennra is very rare.
-* The lyre-bird,’ observes Mr. Bennett, “is a bird
of heavy flight, but swift of foot. On catching a
olimpse of the sportsman, it runs with rapidity, aided
by the wings, over logs of wood, rocks, or any obstruc-
tion to its progress; it seldom flies into trees except to
roost, and then rises only from branch to branch. They
build in old -hollow trunks of trees which are lying
upon the ground, or in the holes of rocks; the nest is
merely formed of dried grass, or dried leaves scraped
together: the female lays froin twelve to sixteen eggs,
of a white colour, with a few scattered light blue spots ;
the young are difficult to catch, as they run with rapi-
dity, concealing themselves among the rocks and bushes.
The lyre-pheasant, on descending from high trees, on
which it perches, has been seen to fly some distance ;
it is more often observed during the early hours of the
morning and in the evening, than during the heat of
the day. Like all the gallinaceous tribe, it scratches
about the ground and roots of trees, to pick up seeds,
insects, &c. The aborigines decorate their greasy locks,
in addition to the emu featliers, with the splendid tail-
feathers of this bird when they can procure them.”
Dr. Latham ‘says, “‘ I-do not find that it has been
yet attempted whether this bird will bear confinement ;
but if the trial should turn out successful, it would be
a fine acquisition to our menageries.”’ This hint has,
we believe, never been acted upon; the lyre-bird has
not as yet been conveyed alive to Europe, which, were
it a truly gallinaceous bird, would be no very difficult
task to accomplish. The emu lives and breeds in our
parks and menageries, and birds less hardy, as para-
keets of brilliant plumage, natives of the same country,
are brourht over in abundance, and bear onr climate
well; but, from some cause or other, the lyre-bird, of
which skins are now imported in tolerable abundance,
has yet to be made the subject of trial. An attentive
observation of its habits and its food, which, were it
alive in our menageries, would be a matter of course—
but especially a knowledge of its internal anatomy,
which is yet unknown, would settle the point at issue
as to its trne situation in the arrangement of the
feathered race, and disclose its genuine affinities.
G4
DOMESTIC MANUFACTURES—THE FACTORY
SYSTEM —MIGRATION OF AGRICULTURAL
LABOURERS TO THE MANUFACTURING
DISTRICTS.
Dr. Ure* remarks, that “* Manufacture is a word which,
in the vicissitude of language, has come to signify the
reverse of its intrinsic meaning, for it now denotes
every extensive product of art which is made by ma-
chinery, with little or no aid of the human hand ;
that the most perfect manufacture is that which dis.
penses entirely with manual labour.” It is within the
recollection of very old persons when most of the
common. articles of clothing were the production of the
hand, aided indeed by a very simple mechanic power,—
the household spinning-wheel, which itself was an 1m-
provement on the ancient distaff. No. 258 of the
‘Penny Magazine’ contains a notice of the ‘high-
Wheel,’ which is now nearly as much forgotten as the
distaff, It is there stated that, “in every farm-house
the wheel was the evening fire-side companion; and
while the mistress or the dame was spinning fine tow,
the servant-girl was allowed to spin ‘ harding’ for her-
self, after the termination of the day’s labour. ‘The
yarn was sent periodically to the weaver, and the ser-
vant was allowed to have a part of her own, for present
use, woven at the end of her mistress’s web, either as
linsey-woolsey or as linen.” -Under so imperfect a
division of employment as existed at the above period in
regard to the production of linen and woollen fabrics,
these. materials were prepared by many families under
the domestic roof, and by the same individuals for
whose use they were intended, or by the household ser-
vants. ‘The inconvenience of the household system of
manufactures may be compared to the necessities of the
earliest stage of agriculture, when every man is com-
pelled to cultivate a patch of ground, as the surplus
produce raised is so small as to be incapable of afford-
ing him entire support while engaged. in some other
useful labour. The slow progress of improvement
amongst a population whose labours are applied to
many different objects is well known. In the most
northern parts of Europe, there are individuals who are
not cnly agriculturists and manufacturers, but fisher-
men also; and it is probable, owing to the severity of
the winter, which compels them to provide a stock of
provisions, and to exercise some degree of foresight,
that they are removed but little above the savages of
North America, Where household mannfactures sup-
ply the population with clothing, foreign trade is limited
chiefly to raw materials; and a much smaller number
of people is benefited than if the rude produce were
worked up into manufactured goods and then exported.
‘The benefit is still greater where one country obtains
the raw produce of another, employs great numbers In
manufacturing it for use, and re- exports it to the most
distant places. A single pound of cotton, which costs
3s. Sd., is sometimes spun to a leneth of 167 miles, and
the price is increased to 25 euineas. Mr. M‘ Culloch
estimates the number of persons. obtaining their sub-
sistence in the various departments of one branch of
British manufactures (cotton) at from 1,200,000 to
1,400,000, including in this number those who are
engaged in the construction aud repair of machinery | ¢
and buildings. The domestic manufactures have been
completely superseded by a more perfect division of
employment, and by the aid of machinery of the most
accurate and wonderful capabilities. The change is
sometimes regretted, but the advantages which ‘have
been gained by the transition far exceed those which
were characteristic of the former period. )
An engraving of the household spinning-wheel and
of the first spinning-machine, which was a multiple of
the ordinary wheel, may be seen in the ‘ Penny Maga-
* * Philosophy of Manufactures,’ By Dr, Ure, 1835,
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
[Marew il,
zine, No. 274. ‘The invention of the latter-was occa-
sioned by an increased demand which it was impossible
to meet with the imperfect means then employed, and
in the absence of proper co-operative power. ‘This
wreat crisis IM manufactures is said to have occurred
atau the year 1760. At this period “ the workshop of
the weaver was a rural cottage, from which, when he
was tired of sedentary labour, i could sally forth into
his little garden, and with the spade or the hoe tend its:
culinary produce tions. The cotton-wool which was to
form his weft was picked clean by the fingers of his
younger children, and was carded and spnn by the
elder girls, assisted by his wife; and the yarn was
woven *by himself, assisted by his sons*.”. ‘The incon-
venience of this system, though far less than that under
which these domestic manufacturers did not exist at all
as a distinct class, was soon apparent when an increased
demand urged them beyond the even tenor of exertion
to which they had been accustomed. ‘The conntry
weavers who had received the raw material from the
manufacturer of Manchester, conld not complete his
work at the time required by. the urgency of business.
Looms were often at a stand for want of yarn. A
weaver was under the necessity frequently of taking a
cirenit of three or four miles in a morning before he
could collect cotton weft enough to keep his loom going
during the day. The weavers could easily multiply
their numbers, but the great difficulty was a sufficient
supply of the weft produced by the spinster. The
weaver was often obliged to make presents to the fe-
males in order to quicken their diligence at the wheel ;
aud as others were equally anxious to obtain a supply,
the competition for weft was unremitting. It might
happen, indeed, that higher wages instead of stimulat-
Ing production might have a contrary effect; the same
sum being obtained as formerly, and in a shorter space
of time, the rest conld be wasted in idleness. At all
events the manufacture was in a very uncertain and
unsatisfactory state, and little reliance could be placed
on the execution of orders. The invention of the spin-
ning- machine (for an engraving of which see ‘ Penny
Mae eazine, No. 274) was the oN of attempts to sur-
mount these difficulties. The first steam- -engine con-
structed for a cotton-mill was made by Mr. Watt in
1785, and it was not until four years afterwards that
steam-power was applied to the same purpose in Man-
chester. In 1764 the imports of cotton did not amount
to 4,000,000 lbs. In 1785 the quantity of cotton im-
por ied for use into the United Kingdom was 17,992,882
Ibs.; in 1835, only fifty years afterwards, the ‘quantity
imported ere = to 363,702,963 lbs., being an in-
crease of upwards of 2000 per cent. In 1790 the .
total value of mannfactured cotton goods exported
was 1,662,369/7.; in 1835 the total salue exceeded
22,000,0001. The total value of the goods manufac-
Fre both for the home and, foreign aa is esti-
inated at 34,000,0002., and the capital employed at the
same sum, ‘This immense and rapid revolution in the .
industry of the country .lias effected social alterations, :
the extent and nature of which have scarcely yet been
thoroughly investigated. Doubts have been expressed
as to whether the change has been beneficial, but there
can be no donbt that i was inevitable ; Bad as every
state of society is attended with some peculiar difficul-
ties, there is uo reason to believe that those by which
our present advanced condition is accompanied are a.
reasonable subject of complaint, when compared with
the peculiar disadvantages of the state of society by
which it was preceded; and taking a fair and reason-
able view of the two periods, the present seems to be
the most preferable.
The inconvenience of the er system of manu-
. ne < History of the Cotton Manufacture of Great Britain,’ By
r U
1837,]
facture has already béen adverted to as indicating’ an
imperfect application of labour; and the impractica-
bility of the domestic manufacturer ever being able to
supply the demands of an extensive home and forelon
demand, even when he had in some measure separated
lis ocetipation from that of a cultivator of the ground,
has beén demonstrated by the facts which have been
eiven illustrative of the progress of the trade since the
domestic system has been opposed by that which has
iow obtainéd for itsélf a clear and almost unlimited
fidld ; the efforts of mental power, manual ingenuity,
aud mechanical capability being all wrought up to the
highest state of perfection, and directed to the accom-
plishment of one object. ‘The system under which this
is decomplished is called the “ Factory System.”
Betore tioticing the characteristics, and some parts
of the economy, of the factory-system, it may be inte-
‘resting to -reeard it in its rudest state. The contrast
betweei one of the great factories at Manchester, Stock-
port, or Belper, will be found striking indeed when
compared with the cow-houses in which the poor lace-
makers of Normandy assemble in order to perform their
task with more comfort than they could obtain at their
own fire-sides. Mr. St. John, in his ‘ Journal of a
Residence in Normandy,’ gives the following account
of this mode of procuring warmth :—‘ At Lions-sur-
Mer; and other villages on the sea-coast, the lace-makers
take refu@e in tne cow-houses, where the breath of the
cattle diffuses an agreeable warmth through the bnild-
ine. They agree with some fariner, wlio has several
cows In warm winter-qnarters, to be allowed to carry
on their operations in company with the ‘* milky
mothers. The cows are tethered in a row, on one
side of the apartment; and the lace-makers are seated
cross-lerved upon the ground, on the other, with their
feet buried in straw. Opposite each eirl, j in a small
niche in the wall, is a eandle placed behind a clear
hemispherical bottle, the flat side of which is towards
the candle, and the elobular one towards the knitter.
This bottle is filled with water, and throws a small
stream of strong, pure, white lieht upon the cushion,
which renders the minutest thread of the lace more
visible, if possible, than by day. ‘These cow-houses
being wenerally too dark to allow of their ever working
without candles, and the cattle being sometimes out in
the fields by day, the lace-makers prefer working all
night. Numbers of youne men, of their own rank,
resort to these cow-houses, and sit or lie down in the
straw, by the cushions of their sweethearts, and sing,
tell stories, or say soft things all night, to cheer them
in their lavowrs. The curé of the “place, anxious lest
the morals of his pretty parishioners should suffer, has
more than once endeavoured to keep away the lovers,
but in vain.” Mr. St. John adds that to avoid all real
eround for scandal; the mothers and elderly female
relations of many aT the @irls remain with them all
night, pursuing the same occupation. The factory
workers of Lancashire will smile at this imperfect re-
sémblafice to the system with which they are acquainted,
and at the waste of labour and want of comfort by
which it is attended: But even the lace-makers of
Normandy enjoy a superior condition to that of the
hand-loom workers of some parts of England. These
unfortunate individuals often work sixteen hours a day,
with scarcely any relaxation, for the small pittance of
6s. or 7s. a week. Their dwellings are miserable in
the extreme; the floor often damp and unpaved; and
they scarcely possess any furniture. It is satisfactory
to learn that this class of workmen, having at length
been convinced of the impossibility of competing with
steam-power and the most perfect machinery, have been
oradually relinquishing their wretched occupation, and
obtain higher wages in the factories.
sition which ‘hese men have endured, would have beeu
The cruel tran- |
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
95
far less protracted if attempts had not been made to
attribute their distress to other causes than that which
evidently arose from the coustantly increasing compe-
tition with the power-loom. So lately as 1813 the
number of hand-looms in Great Britain was not more
than 2;400; in 1820 they had increased to 14;150; in
1829 to 55,500; and in 1835 to 116,801. The trade
of the hand-loom weaver was learned without much
difficulty, and on any fluctuation in agriculture or in
handicraft employments, many individuals who had
learned the art of weaving at an early period of their
lives, fell back upon it as a temporary resource; and
thus, independent of the progress of the power with
which they were in competition, and which, in the
nature of things, must necessarily triumph at last, their
wages were kept low by the facility with which indi-
viduals could leave their usual occupation, and resort
to weaving in any occasional emergency. The strugele
was also protracted by the flourishing state of the
cotton trade, which rendered even the powers of ma-
chinery inadequate to supply the demand of extendin&
markets.
The truth is, that employments which are 18st aided
by mechanical power, which only call forth the rudest
elements of labour, the straining of muscles and of
sinews, are more exhausting in their effects, are not
paid so well, are subject to greater fluctuations, and
less valuable to society in an econoinic point of view,
than when they are assisted by machinery. The work-
man then becomes a more intelligent agent amidst the
processes which are going on around him, and he ex-
changes incessant exertion for the less laborious and
more intellectual operation of directing and superin-
tending an inanimate power which seems almost obe-
dient to his will, and like an untirmg servant never
erows fatigued in his service. ‘here can be no doubt,
notwithstanding some disadvantages which are perhaps
not neccessarily incidental to the factory system, and
which time and ilicreased knowledge and intelligence
may lessen, that its moral effects have on the whole
been beneficial, arid that it has sustained the popnla-
tion ina higher condition than they conld have reached,
had that system never existed. We are not, therefore,
disposed to regret that the domestic manufactures have
been superseded. Our own population are not only
better and more cheaply supplied than they could have
been under the household system of manufacture, but
we are enabled to supply the markcts of nearly the
wnole world with the products of our surplus industry ;
and the value of the exports of cotton goods alone has
been raised to a higher amount than that of every
description of exported manufactures and produce pre-
vious to the existence of the factory system, and when
the aid of machinery was not extensively einploy red.
According to official returns, published 1 in L834, the
total number of factories, of -all- kinds, in the United
Kingdom was 3236, and the number of persons eiu-
ployed within them was 355,373. The following’ sum-
mary of the returns shows’ the extent and importairce
of each branch of the great textile manufactures :—
Cotton Factories, 1304 Persons employed, 220,134
Wool je 1398 ij , oh are
Silk 263 4 - 30,682
Flax ie 347 i - 33,283
Lancashire is the great seat of the cotton-manufacture,
and contzins more maT one-half of the cotton factories
of the United Kingdom, the number being 715, and
the total number of persons employed in them 122 Pash"),
Mhere are 159 factories in Scotland; 126 in the Weal
Ridine of Yorkshire; 116 in Cheshire : and 92 in
Derbyshire. .
The: following statements, illustrative of fic condi-
tion of factory ‘workers, and the moral economy of the
factory system, are chiefly taken from receat works, of
96
authority on the subject *. The cotton-spinner has not
to serve a tedious apprenticeship, and he has not ex-
pensive tools to provide. His capital consists of skill,
intelligence, and industry ; and yet, as Dr. Ure re-
marks, the lowest wages which he receives are “ nearly
three times those of a farm-labourer or .hand-weaver
for as many hours’ occupation, and for much severer
toil.’ Wages form a small part only,of the manu-
factured article, and the workmen being employed in
connexion with costly machinery, their wages are sus-
tained at a high rate. The quality of the work per-
formed being of the utmost importance to the manu-
facturer, it is his mterest to maintain this high scale,
as the saving 1 wages would be ill compensated by the
deteriorated “quality. of the work on which the spinner
is employed. Instances are nowhere so common as
in the manufacturing districts of workmen becoming
opulent proprietors. “The creat capitalists who are en-
gaged in the cotton trade are constantly in need of the
services of intelligent men, of steady and industrious
habits; and when they discover such, their progress
from overlookers to managers, or other offices of trust,
and afterwards to a lucrative - connexion as partners, 1s
frequently the work of a few years. A spinner reckons
the charge of a pair of ‘‘ mules” (spinning machines)
as rood as a fortune, which he may enjoy during his
life if his conduct be good; and there is scarcely any
man connected with a factory who may not’ (if he have
the necessary.resolution and good sense) obtain a com-
fortable independence. ‘The “department of labour in a
cotton factory which is the worst paid is that in which
mechanical power is wholly dispensed with. ‘This
Species of work consists in “* batting” cotton by hand,
for fine spinning, something in the same manner that
corn. is threshed with a flail. It its performed by
women, and does not bring them more than 6s. 6d.
weekly ; while women and children, who attend to some
process m which the exercise of the mind is substituted
for that of the muscles, receive double the sum. ‘The
more refilred the labour in factories is made, the liohter
and pleasanter it becomes. The steam-engine is ever
at work, but the labour of the attendant is occasional |
similar |
only,—joining breaking threads and _ other
operations being his chief business. This i is the occu-
pation of three-fourths of the children employed at the
mules in cotton factories. Mr. Tufnell+, one of the
Factory Commissioners, says,—‘‘ When the carriages
of these have receded a foot and a half or two feet from
the rollers, nothing is to be done, not even attention Is
required from either spinner or piecer.’’ Both of them,
says Dr. Ure, stand idle for a time, and in fine spin-
ning, particularly, for three- -quarters of a minute or
more. <A child who remains at this work twelve hours
has nine hours of inaction; and if he attends two mules,
six hours. Spinners sometimes employ the interval in
the perusal of books. A male spinner told Mr. Tuf-
nell that, in this manner, he had read throug: several
books. The successive improvements introduced into
the machinery, which have enabled the spinner to ac-
complish more work in a shorter space of time, instead
of having had the effect of reducing his wages, has
increased. them. Dr. Ure states that, m 1829, the
spinner turned off 312 Ibs. of yarn in the same time
that he now takes to turn off 648. The rate per Ib.
was 4s. ld. in 1829, and 2s. 5d. in 1835; but 648 lbs.
being wrought off in the same space of time which
formerly was required for working off 312 Ibs., the sum
received is 292s. more than was obtained in 1829. He
has therefore largely participated in the advantages of
improved machinery. ‘he time of working in cotton-
niills in Manchester is less, by about one ‘honr daily,
* Dr. Ure’s works, previously quoted. * Progress of the Nation,’
by G. R. Porter, Esq. ¢ Reports of Factory Commissioners,’
tel Report of Factory Commissioners,’
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
[Marcu 1 1, 1837,
than in the factories either of Europe or America.
None of the mills were worked during the night when
Dr. Ure made his survey of the Manchester factories.
The hours of labour are, generally, less than they were
a few years ago.
The structure mm which tne cotton manufacture is
-earried on, the factory, with the machinery which it
contains, does not cost much less than 100,000/. It is
made fire-proof, and the height 1s usually carried to
seven stories. The apartments are warmed by the
steam wenerated by the engines which put the whole
machinery in motion, which is diffused by cast-iron
pipes seven or eight inches in diameter. A system of
ventilation, more perfect than anything which until very
recently has been applied to the House of Commons, is
constantly kept up. The fon] air is extracted by ex-
centric fans, making 100 revolutions in a second, and
they not only ensure a constant renewal of the atmo-
sphere, but prevent the ingress of impure air from with-
out, The labour of ascending to the uppermost stories
of so lofty a building 1s avoided by the teagle, a machine
for hoisting goods or workmen, described.in the ‘Penny
Magazine,” No. 212. The mere advantage of shelter
which a well- aired and thoroughly warmed factory
affords would be highly appreciated by the lace-makers
of Lions-sur-Mer; and it might be conceived that not
a single hand-loom weaver could be found who would
not oladly enter the factory, where, in addition to the
comfort which he would meet with, the rate of wages is
a great deal higher, and the labour much less.. There
is, however, am obstacle which is a bar:to the apparently
agreeable transition. The industry of the manual la-
bourer is discontinuous, that is, it depends upon the
caprice of the workman, who is perfect master of his own
actions. He can give over his occupation at any mo-
ment, and, taking hand-weavers generally, the average
work whieh they turn off in a week seldom axoaaile
one-half of what their looms could produce if - kept
continuously in action like the machinery of a factory.
Dr. Ure was told by a warehouseman in Manchester,
who employed 1800 weavers in the neighbouring dis-
tricts, that they seldom brought him in 2000. -pleces ‘per
week ; whereas they could, if ‘they had laboured steadily,
have manufactured 9000 pieces. Mr. Strutt, of Belper,
also mentioned to Dr. Ure a fact which confirms the
preceding opinion. Finding that much distress existed
in a village of stocking-weavers, i in his neighbourhood,
he invited a number of the most necessitous families to
participate in the higher wages and steadier employ-
ment of the spinning-mills at Belper. They were at
first ig lly delighted with the change, but their irre-
gular habits of work were soon after displayed, and
they subsequently returned to their wonted mistaken
independence and consequent poverty. ‘The regularity
required in the factories tends to check the intemperate
use of ardent or fermented liquors; as habits of in-
toxication would unfit a man for attending upon the
delicate processes of the spinning-me achines. Regular
application of a man’s powers are absolutely essential
when they act in concert with machinery, and the task
is not easy for individuals who have been accustomed
to desultory labour; but the difficulty Is soon con-
quered wig a determined attempt is made to secure
the advantages of factery employment. In another
paper we shall notice the factory system in connexion
with the advantages which it offers to the unemployed
labourers of some of the agricultural districts.
*,* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at
59, Lincoln’s Inn Fields.
LONDON: CHARLES KNIGHT & €
O., 22, LUDGATE STREET.
OT
Printed by Wint1am Crowes and Sons, Stamford Street.
OF
THE PENNY MAGAZINE
i= -
Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge.
318.1
PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY.
{Marcu 18, 1837.
BRITISH FISHERIES.—WNo. VI.
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[Sprat- Boat, fishing off Purfleet on the Thames. |
Many eminent naturalists have been induced to regard
the sprat as the young of the herring and pilchard ;
but a minute investigation would have proved that the
sprat is a distinct species, and the error could only have
arisen from their having been deceived by the unscientific
manner in which fishermen apply names. In Scotland
the sprat is called the garvie herring. ‘The features,
however, in which it differs from the herring or pilchard
are so obvious, that they may be ascertained even during
the darkest nights. In the pilchard, the line of the
abdomen is smooth; and in the herring this part 1s not
serrated ; but in the sprat the line of the abdomen con-
sists of a strongly serrated edge, from which difference
it may be safely concluded that the sprat is a distinct
{The Sprat.—Ctupea Sprattus. |
species. ‘The sprat is about six inches in length and
above an inch in depth; colour of a dark blue and
silvery white, with green reflections. ‘The sprat is
taken in the Forth, near Edinburgh, and on the eastern
coast of Ireland, from Cork to Belfast. Jt is rarely
Vou. VI.
met with on the south-western coasts of England, but
is found on the Norfolk, Suffolk, Kent, and Essex coasts
in large shoals. Like the herring and pilchard the sprat
moves in shoals, the course of which appears equally
capricious with its congeners, resorting to one part of
the coast for a number of seasons, and afterwards sud-
denly deserting it, and unexpectedly appearing where
their visits had previously been rare. In the summer
months the sprat inhabits the deep water, and Is then
in roe. It is in the highest perfection as food when the
season for fresh herrings has closed; and during No-
vember, and three or four succeeding months, an abun-
dant supply is always to be obtained at Billingsgate
market; where the retail dealers, and those who keep
a stall in the public street, or carry the fish in baskets
into every part of the metropolis, purchase their stock.
There perhaps is not any fish which is an object of such
eeneral consumption as the sprat. ‘The quality and
flavour are much relished, and the abundant supply
renders it an article of diet with the poor as well as
with the rich. ‘he sprat is too small for curing on the
same extensive scale as the herring and pilchard , but
it is pickled in various ways, and sometimes ina manner
resembling auchovies; to which, however, It Is oreatly
inferior, owing to the insoluble nature of the bones.
Besides its use as food, the sprat has, within the last
few years, been extensively employed as a mannie, and,
under some judicious regulations, the demand for this
O
98
pnrpese might probably benefit the fishermen without
diminishing, to an injurious extent, the quantity re-
quired for consumption as food.
In Sir Humphry Davy’s ‘ Elements of Agricultural
Chemistry, a work with which it is to be regretted
farmers are so seldom acquainted, the following account
is given of the use of fish as a manure ‘—‘ Fish,” ob-
serves this eminent chemist, “ forms a powerful manure,
in whatever state it is apphed; but it cannot be
ploughed in too fresh, thongh the quantity should be
Jimited. Mr. Young records an experiment, in which
herrings spread over a field, and ploughed in for wheat,
produced so rank a crop that it was entirely laid before
harvest. The refuse pilchards in Cornwall are used
throughout the connty as a manure with excellent
effects. They are usually mixed with sand or soil, and
sometimes with sea weed, to prevent them from raising
too luxurious a crop. ‘The effects are perceived for
several years. In the fens of Lincolnshire, Cambridge-
shire, and Norfolk, the little fish called sticklebacks are
caught in the shallow waters in such quantities, that
they form a great article of manure in the land border-
ing on the fens. It is easy to explain the operation of
fish as a manure. The skin is principally gelatine,
which, from its slight state of cohesion, is readily solu-
ble in water; fat or oil 1s always found in fishes, either
under the skin or in some of the viscera, and their
fibrous matter contains all the essential elements of
vegetable substances. Amongst oily substances blub-
ber has been employed as manure. It is most useful
when mixed with clay, sand, or any common soil, so as
to expose a large surface to the dir, the oxygen of which
produces soluble matter from it. Lord Somerville used
blubber with great success at his farm in Surrey. It
was made into a heap with soil, and retained its power
of fertilizing for several successive years. ‘Lhe carbon
and hydrogen abounding in oily substances fully ac-
count for their effects, and their durability is easily
explained from the gradual manner in which they
change by the action of air and water.” ‘Phe quantity
of sprats used as manure now amounts, it 1s believed,
to many thousand tons each year. ‘Lhe price varies
from 10d. to 1s. 8d., and sometimes has been as high
as ls. 6d., per bushel. In 1829 large quantities were
purchased at 6d. per bushel. About forty bushels per
acre is the quantity usually applied. Barge loads,
containing 1500 bnshels, were sent up the Medway to
Maidstone in 1829, and the hop-grounds were abun-
dantly manured; and so near London as Dartford the
farmers stimulated the land with this species of manure.
The fishing-season commences in November, and the
fogey and gloomy nights which prevail at that period,
are considered most favourable to the fishermen. The
finest fish are caught in the samme manner as mackerel,
but the largest quantities are taken by the stow-boats,
manned with five or six men. Mr. Yarrell (p. 123,
vol. ii. * British Fishes’) gives the following descrip-
tion of this mode :—** The stow-boat net goes with two
horizontal beams: the lower one, twenty-two feet long,
is suspended a fathom above the ground; the upper
one, a foot shorter in length, 1s suspended about six
fathoms above the lower one. ‘To these two beams, or
“ balks,’ as they are called, a large bag net is fixed,
towards the end of which, called the hose, the mesh is
fine enongh to stop very small fry. The mouth of the
net, twenty-two feet wide and thirty-six feet high, is
kept square by hanging it to acable and heavy anchor
at the four ends of the beams. The net is set under
the boat’s bottom; and a rope from each end of the
upper beam brought up under each bow of the boat,
raises and sustains the beam, and keeps the mouth of
the uet always open, and so moored that the tide carries
everything into it. A strong rope, which runs through
an iron ring at the middle of the upper beam, and is
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
{Marcn 18,
made fast to the middle of the lower beam, brings both
beams together parallel, thus closing the mouth of the
net when it 1s required to be raised.’ ‘The meshes of
the net are so small, that a pen could searcely be in-
serted in them, and nothing but water will pass through.
Hence the destruction of small fry is immense, and it
is alleved that the scarcity of turbots, brills, soles, and
other fish in those parts of the coast where they were
once abundant 1s occasioned by the stow-boats. Some
of the fishermen state that about twenty years ago
large quantities of soles and a few turbots were caught
off the ecast of Kent without difficulty, but that these
fish have now become scarce, and the fishermen are
hot in consequence so well off. They date the com-
mencement of this change from the Peace of 1815,
Now the discharge ef great numbers of seamen at this
period would have had a powerful effect on the interests
of the fishermen independent of any other cause, as
many who had served in the navy during the war
would return to their former pursuits. Many other
branches of industry were also affected from the influx of
additional numbers at this time; and when depression
ensued, the cause of the fluctuation not being always
calmly songht for, was attributed to circumstances
which in reality had little relation to the change. De-
structive as the stow-hoat system is, there are some
fishermen who, taking into consideration the prolific
nature of fish, doubt whether production is very inju-
riously diminished by it. Some years fish are more
abundant than others, but the stow-boat fishing is
nearly as active one year as another, and therefore some
other agency must be in operation, to which abundance
or scarcity is owing. The destruction complained of
is not altogether unattended with advantages, for a cheap
means of increasing the supply of another species of
food is obtained; and many fishermen are employed.
Nevertheless, as the stow-boat system does occasion
considerable destruction to the young fry, the extent of
the injury deserves to be carefully investieated by
scientific men, more especially in connexion with the
manner of obtaining fish for manure. A committee of
the Honseof Commons on the British Channel Fisheries,
which sat in 1833, made the following observations en
this point, and recommended some _ interference :—
“This branch of fishing (it is observed in the Report)
has greatly increased, and there are at present from
400 to 500 boats engaged in stow-boating on the
Kentish coast only, which remain upon the fishine-
erounds frequently for a week together, not for the
purpose of catching sprats, or any other fish to be sold
as food in the inarket, but until they have obtained full
cargoes of dead fish forthe purpose of manuring the
land. Now from the very destructive nature of this
fishery, its being of modern introduction, and consider-
ing also the almost boundless extent to which a demand
for its produce may be carried, if the system be per-
mitted to continue without restriction, your committee
have been inclined to question whether its further
prosecution ought not to be entirely prevented; but
upon the best consideration which they have been able
to give to the subject, they recommend that at least it
should not be permitted to be carried on with ground
or drag-nets, between the lst of April aud the last day
of November in every year; nor with drift or floating
nefs in the bay during the breeding season, namely,
from the Ist day of May to the last day of August,
within a league of the low-water mark, or in less than
ten fathoms water; nor at any other time with nets of
so small a mesh as is now generally used.” None of
these recommendations have yet been adopted. In the
last session a bill was brought in, one of the objects of
which was to prevent the destruction of the brood and
spawn of fish. It was proposed that obsolete laws still
in force, but not acted upen, should be embodied in a
1837.]
single act, and that conservators of the fisheries should
be appointed, from among the fishermen themselves,
whose duty it should be to see that infractions of the
law were not committed. ‘This bill, however, did not
eo through the necessary stages, and tle evil com-
plained of still remains without a remedy.
The stow-boat fishermen are usuaily joint-proprietors,
having larger or smaller shares in proportion to their
means. The principal owner, for instance, possesses
three shares, and is at the cost of keeping the boat,
nets, and other materials in repair; the master takes
a share and ahalf; the next man ashare and a quarter ;
and if there be another man he has a single share; or
if his place is supplied by an older apprentice, a share
is allotted to him, and a three-quarters or one-half
share to the youngest apprentice. The proceeds are
venerally divided into seven and a half or eight shares.
A LOOKING-GLASS FOR LONDON.—No. VII.
Pavine, Licurine, WATER, SEWERS.
Somer parts of the streets of London were paved at an
early date—as Holborn in 1417, other parts of the city
in the succeeding century, and Smithfield in 1614. The
streets which were directed to be paved in 1539 were
described to be “ very foul, and full of pits and sloughs,
very perilous and noyous, as well for the King’s subjects
ou horseback as on foot, and with carriages.” But
down to the year 1762, London generally could not be
said to be paved. The streets were generally ‘‘ ob-
structed with stalls, sheds, sien-posts, and projections
of various kinds ; and each inhabitant paved before his
own door in such manner, and with such materials, as
pride, poverty, or caprice might suggest: there were no
trottoirs; the footway was exposed to the carriage-way,
except in some of the principal streets, where they were
separated by a line of posts and chains.” In 1762 the
‘Westminster Paving Act passed, from which we may
date all those improvements which have contributed to
make London, as far as comfort and convenience are
concerned, the finest, as it is the most populous, city in
the world.
Jonas Hanway was an active advocate and promoter
of the Westminster Paving Act. In his life, by Pugh,
it is said, ‘“‘ It is not easy to convey to a person who has
not seen the streets of this metropolis, before they were
uniformly paved, a tolerable idea of their inconvenience
and wunseemliness. The carriage-ways were full of
cavities, which harboured: water and filth. The signs,
extending on both sides of the way into the streets, at
unequal: distances from the honses, that they might not
intercept each other, greatly obstructed the view, and,
which ig of more conseqnence in a crowded city, pre-
vented the free circulation of the air. ‘The footpaths
were universally incommoded, even where they were so
narrow as only to admit of one person passing at a time,
hy a row of posts set on edge next the carriage way.
* * * Flow comfortless must have been the sensations
of an unfortunate female, stopped in the street on a
windy day, under a large old sign loaded with lead and
iron, in full swing over her head; and: perhaps a torrent
of dirty water falling near her from a projecting spout,
ornamented with the mouth and teeth of a dragon!
hese dangers and distresses are now at an end, and
we may think of them as the sailor does of the storm
which has subsided; but the advantages derived from
the present uniformity and cleanliness of onr streets can
be known in their full extent only by comparing them
with the former inconveniences.”
There are no published details from which we can
learn. the extent of the pavements of London, or the
annual expense of maintaining them. The manage-
ment of them is jn the hands of a great number of
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
99
Boards, each having particular districts, and actine
under various acts of Parliament. Mr. Williams, in
his work on ‘ Subways,’ taking for data the published
accounts of the “‘city,’ and supposing it to be one-
fourth of the entire metropolis, makes a conjectural
calculation that the amount annually collected and ex-
pended on the streets of London is 216,000/.
The reader is aware that most of the great continental
cities are very indifferently supplied with foot-pave-
ments. Paris, for instance, though it has been very
mnch improved since the Peace, is still ‘‘ very perilous
and noyous’” to a London pedestrian of the prezent
day.
We have given, in the first of these series of papers,
some particulars respecting the state of the streets of
London before they were generally lighted. Beckman,
speaking of the time when the city was lhehted with oil
lamps, before the introduction of gas, says, ‘* Oxford
Street alone is said to contain more lamps than all
Paris. The roads, even seven or eight miles round
London, are lighted by such lamps; and as these roads
from the city to different parts are very numerous, the
lamps, seen from a little distance, particularly in the
county of Surrey, where a great many roads cross each
other, have a beautiful and noble effect.” Mr. Williams,
in 1828, says, “There are now in London four great
eas-lieht companies, having altogether forty-seven ga-
someters at work, capable of containing, in the whole,
917,940 cubic feet of eas, supplied by 1315 retorts;
and these consuming 33,000 chaldrons of coals in a
year, and producing 41,000 chaldrons of coke; the
whole quantity of @as generated annually being up-
wards of 397,000,000 of cubic feet, by which 61,203
private, and 7258 public or street lamps are lighted in
the metropolis. Besides these, there are several other
minor companies and public establishments. that hght
with owas.” There are at present sixteen metropolitan
oas-companies, supplying the entire extent of London.*
The first. attempt to supply London with water by
means superior to those of the conduits, pumps, and
water-bearers of former times, was made by a Dutchman,
named Peter Morrys, in the reign of Queen Elizabeth.
He contracted with the corporation to raise water by an
engine, to be erected in an arch of London bridge, and
to send it through pipes into the city. Jour arches of
the bridee were snecessively assigned to him and _ his
descendants for the purpose; and the London Bridge
Waterworks were in existence and operation till within
these few years, having been only removed when the
bridge was taken down.
Next after him came the well-known Hugh Middle-
ton, citizen and goldsmith, and afterwards a baronet.
His scheme was more magnificent, and having been
executed with persevering earnestness as well as skill,
it has effected the supply of a large portion of London
| for upwards of 200 years, and will doubtless continue
'to do so. This was the cutting of the canal, termed
| the New River.
It derives it principal supplies from a
spring at Chadwell, between Hertiord and Ware, about
twenty-one miles north of London, and also from an
arm of the river Lea, the source of which is near the
Chadwell spring, in the proportion of about two-thirds
of the former, and one-third of the latter. ‘These
united waters are conducted by an artificial channel,
nearly forty milesin length, to four reservoirs, called
the New River Head, at Clerkenwell. The New River
Company having taken up the supply of that part of
the city which used to be supplied from the London
Bridge Waterworks, have erected an engine on the
banks of the Thames, by which they are enabled, in
ease of anv failure in the quantity supplied by the New
River, to draw from the Thames to make up the defi-
or an account of the introduction of gas into London, and
the process of its manufacture, see * Penny Magazine,’ No. 159,_
2
100
ciency. The Hampstead water-works were also incor-
porated with the New River, and a considerable quan-
tity of water is brought from the ponds on Hampstead
Heath to a reservoir near Tottenham Court Road.
About eight or nine years ago, considerable excite-
nent prevailed in London_respecting the quality of the
water supplied by the different water companies to the
inhabitants of the metropolis. . The larger portion of
them deriving their supphes from the Thames, it was
contended that ‘the river, receiving the drainage of
about 140 sewers, as well as all the refuse of the
varions soap, lead, gas, and drug manufactories, was
quite an unfit place from which to supply so essential
an element of life.’ The stibject, was investigated by
Parliament, aul also by Dr. Ro@et, Mr. Brande, and
the late Mr. Telford, acting as a commission under the
Great Seal. The Committee of the Honse of Com-
mons gave it as their opinion, “ that the then present
state of the supply of water to the metropolis was sus-
ceptible of and required improvement; that many of
the complaints relative to the quality of the water were
well founded; that the supply ought to be derived
from other sources than those then resorted to; and
that it should be g@uarded by such restrictions as would
at all times“ensure the cleanliness and purity of an
article of such prime necessity.” In 1831 Mr. ‘Pelford
was directed by government to “ make a survey, aud
report upon the best mode of supplying the metropolis
with pure water.” Ife did so, in the beginning of
1634; but it does not appear that anything matenal
has since been done in the matter. —"
There are eight water-companies supplying London
with water. -’fhese furnish to 191,066 houses a daily
supply of 20,829,555 imperial @allons. ‘The following
details are taken from a Parliamentary paper of 1834:
C¢
SupPpLy oF Warer to tHe METROPOLIS.
t
Average Average | Average | Mean} High.
Rates per Charge jdaily sup-|Eleva-] est
Houses | House or |Total Quantity | per 1000 ly per | tion |Eleva-
—— and Building, of Water Hogs- ouse or | at tion at
Buildings} including supped heads Building,|whieh | whieh
supplied. ' large yenrly, computed | including| Water | Water
Con- in gross | Manufac-|is sup-|/is sup-
sumers, rental. | tories, &c.! plied.| plied.
& d. Hhds. s. d.\ Galls, | Ft. | Ft.
New River..| 76,145 $6 6 |114,650,000 17 14 21) 843! ldo
Chelsea ....} 18,892 | 33 3 | 15,753,000 29 0 168 835 | 135
Grand Junct.| 8,780 | 48 6 | 21,702,567 24 | 350 100 | 151%
W.Middlesex| 16,000 56 10 | 20,000,000 45 6 185 155 | 188
East London| 46,421 22 6 | 37,810,594 28 0 1204 60 | 107
S. London ,.}| 12,046 15 go * de 100 oa 80
Lambeth ...| 15,682 | 17 0 | 11,998,600 | 24 8 124 53 | 185
Southwark,.] 7,100 21 3 7,000,000°; 21 0 156 33 60
| ee | ee | | |
191,066 | 30 14)228,914,761 23 8] 1803 824; —
a
* Not known, no accounts having been kept.
The state and management of the sewers of London
engaged the attention of a Select Committee of the
House of Commons in 1834. The following brief
statements are taken from their Report :—
The metropolis and adjacent districts, within’ a circle
of ten miles from the Post Office, are divided into seven
‘Trusts or Boards of Commissioners, for the purpose of
inaintarning the sewers, gutters, ditches, streams, water-
courses, &c., in their respective districts, each having a
separate and independent jurisdiction of its own. Five
of these commissions are administered under local acts,
but two of them take as their guide the old law of
sewers, dated so far back as the 23rd of Henry VIII.
Some French engineers, who were sent over by their
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
government in 1833, were astonished by nothing so
much as the sewerage of London. The idea of forming
drains in the streets of Paris only extends to surface-
draining, while in London the water from the lowest
cellars drains into the common sewers. :
The commissioners of the city and liberties of Lon-
don division have within their jurisdiction about 17,600
houses, the rental of which, assessed to the sewer-rate,
[Maxkcn 18,
is 792,9042. ‘This comprehends, either wholly or in
part, 113 parishes, of which the population is estimated
at 122,316. ‘The number of commissioners is 107;
seven constitute a quorum; and the average number
who attend the meetings is from twenty-five to thirty.
The salaries of the officers only amount to 5702. per
annum; and since the year 1756, about 114 new sewers
huve. been built, wholly or in part. Very great im-
provements have taken place of late years in the
management of this Trust; and the sewers are, gwene-
rally speaking, in’ an unobjectionable state. Com-
‘plaints have been made by several of the inhabitants,
who have large and valnable properties in the most
crowded parts of the city, of the want of drainage in
their neighbourhoods—a deficiency which not only pro-
duces serious inconvenience, but has been prejudicial to
health. But there are obstacles of considerable mag-
nitude in the way of the necessary improvements. ‘l'o
construct sewers of sufficient depth to drain the pro-
perties in question, would endanger several buildings,
—one or two of them ecclesiastical structures,—and
produce considerable risk of loss and damage; and the
commissioners have hitherto, chiefly in consequence of
their defective powers, refrained from interfering.
fhe amount received and expended by the City of
London divisicn for five years is as follows :—
Balance in hand, after
Year, Receivea,, animes :
. elrayrag Expenses.
1829. 1 £13,307 Dh, ti] SZ
1830 '.. « . (dee 7 2822 13 7
1831... POee ae
1832.» TO eee ne
1833. . . D7,718 99 (eT oe
The Westminster and part of Middlesex Board of
Commissioners has a district containing fourteen pa-
rishes, and portions of six others. The amount collected
within its district for the maintenance of the sewers
was, for the ten years preceding 1833, 280,795/., and
the amount expended in the same period was 269,790/.
It was stated before the Committee that the quantity of
feet of open and covered sewers built at the cost of the
Westminster and part of Middlesex Commission since
ISU7, is 9578, while, during the same period, the
public, at their private cost, and without any assistance
from the sewers’ rate, built 91,708 feet. .
Some inconvenience and injury have been experienced
from the trusts acting independently of each other; but
it has been found difficult to suggest a proper remedy.
The following instance was adduced. Part of the
sewerage of the Holborn and Finsbury district is con-
ducted through the city into the Thames. The sewers
of that district having been greatly improved:and en-
larged, the volume of water carried to the river became
so great as to render the sewers of the city inadequate
to carry off their contents, which, in addition to the
waters from the high lands of the neighbouring trusts,
were absolutely forced back into the houses, trom the
quantity which occupied the main sewer; and thus,
after each fall of rain, the houses in the vicinity of the
river were regularly inundated. This has now been
remedied at great expense to the City of London dis-
trict, and by dint of much time and labour. By the
law of Henry VIII. the commissioners of sewers are
allowed 4s. a day. This allowance has been generally
dropped, but the commissioners of most of the trusts,
in lieu of it, dine together on their quarterly days of
meeting ; the expenses of which are defrayed from the
funds in their possession. ‘The number of members of
each commission is far too laree—in the Westminster
aud part of Middlesex Board they amount to upwards
of 200. ‘The act of Henry VIII. constitutes six a
quorum ; and in a statement given of the meetings of
the Westminster Trust during 1833, the average atten-
dance was about a dozen. 7
e
v.
1837.
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
LANDING OF JULIUS C/ISAR.
(From the § Pictorial Uistory of England.)
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(Landing of
Ar ten o'clock on a morning in autumn (Halley, the
astronomer, in a paper in the ‘ Philosophical Trans-
actions, has almost demonstrated that it must have
been on the 26th of Augnst, B.c. 55), Cesar reached
the British coast, near Dover, at about the worst pos-
sible point to effect a landing in face of an enemy,—
and the Britons were not disposed to be friends. ‘The
submission they had offered throngh their ambassadors
was intended only to prevent or retard invasion ; and
seeing it fail of either of these effects, on the return of
their ambassadors with Comius, as Cesar's envoy, they
made that prince a prisoner, loaded him with chains,
—prepared for their defence as well as the shortness
of time would permit; and when the Romans looked
from their ships to the steep white cliffs above them,
they saw them covered all over by the armed Britons.
Finding that this was not a convenient landing-place,
Cesar resolved to lie by till the third hour after noon,
in order, he says, to wait the arrival of the rest of his
fleet. Some lageard vessels appear to have come up,
but the eighteen transports, bearing the cavalry, were
nowhere seen. Czsar, however, favoured by both wind
and tide, proceeded at the appointed hour, and sailing
about seven miles further along the coast, prepared to
land his forces, on an open, flat shore, which presents
* The little that is known of Blakey is chiefly as a historical
painter, in which department of art he obtained some celebrity
during the middle of the last century. Some of Tis designs will
be found in an edition of Pope’s works, and in Jonas Hanway’s
‘Travels through Persia, published about that period. In con-
junction with Mr. Hayman, Blakey made some desigus for a set
of prints intended to represent some of the principal events of
early English history. ‘his is considered as the first attempt to
render our national history a subject for a series of pictorial repre-
sentations ; but the work was unsuccessful, and of the two or
three engravings which appeared, it is not known whether they
were published singly or together,—£d, Penny Mag.
td
ys SS Eg,
ys Py) es.
Julius Cagar.— Aft
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De Sacer v7 4 —— ——
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.s ~ y { Ont ns
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er a Design by Blakey™.} .
itself b Walmer “hk
itse etween Walmer Castle and Sandwich*. 'The
Britons on the cliffs, perceiving his design, followed his
motions, aud sending their cavalry and war-chariots
before, marched rapidly on with their main force to
oppose his landing anywhere. Cesar confesses that
the opposition of the natives was a bold one, and that
the difficulties he had to encounter were very ereat on
many accounts; but superior skill and discipline, and
the employment of some military engines on board the
war-galleys, to which the British were unaccustomed,
and which projected missiles of various kinds, at last
triumphed over them, and he disembarked his two le-
cions. We must not omit the act of the standard-bearer
of the tenth legion, which has been thought deserving
of particular commemoration by his general. While
the Roman soldiers were hesitating to leave the ships,
chiefly deterred, according to Czsar’s account, by the
depth of the water, this officer, having first solemnly
besought.the gods that what he was about to do might
prove fortunate for the legion, and then exclaiming
with a loud voice, ‘“‘ Follow me, my _ fellow-soldiers,
unless you will give up your eagle to the enemy! T,
at least, will do my duty to the republic and to our
oreneral!’’ leaped into the sea as he spoke, and dashed
with his ensign among the enemy’s ranks. ‘The men
instantly followed their heroic leader; and the soldiers
in the other ships, excited by the example, also crowded
forward alone with them. The two armies were for
some time mixed in combat; but at length the Britons
withdrew in disorder from the well-contested beach.
* Horsley (in Britannia Romana) shows that Caesar must have
proceeded to the north of the South Foreland, in which case the
Janding must have been effected between Walmer Castle and
Sandwich. Others, with less reason, think he sailed southward
from the South Foreland, and landed on the flats of Romney
Marsh,
*
102
As their cavalry, however, was not yet arrived, the
Romans could not pursue them or advance into the
island, which Cesar says prevented his rendering the
victory complete.
The native maritime tribes, thus defeated, sought the
advantages of a hollow peace. They despatehed am-
bassadors to Cesar, offering hostages and an entire
submission.
which proceeded solely from the popular ignorance.
The conqueror, after reproaching them for sending of
‘heir own accord ambassadors into Gaul to sue for
peace, and then making war upon him, without any
reason, forgave them their offences, and ordered them
to send in a certain number of hostages, as security for
their good behaviour in future. Some of these hostages
were ‘presented immediately, and the Britons. promised
They liberated “Comius, and restored him |
to his employer, throwing the blame of the harsh treat- |
ment his envoy had met with upon the multitude or |
common people, and entreating Cesar to excuse a fault |
This supply could not have been great, for the natives
had everywhere gathered in their harvest, except In
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
[Marci 18,
tages promised from a distance, and from other cireum-
stances, and instantly took measures to provide for the
worst. He set part of his army to repair his shattered
fleet, using the materials of the vessels most injured to
patch up the rest; and as the soldiers wrought with an
indefatigability suiting the dangerous urgency of the case,
le had soon a number of vessels fit for sea. He then
sent to Gaul, for other materials wanting, and probably
for some. provisions also. Another por tion of his troops
he employed in foraging parties, to bring into the camp
what corn they could collect in the adjacent country.
one field; and there, by lying in ambush, the Britons
‘made a bold and bloody attack, which had well nigh
_ proved fatal: to the invaders.
As one of the two legions
that formed the expedition were cutting down the corn
‘in that field, Cesar, who was in his fortified cainp,
suddenly saw a great cloud of dust in that direction.
to deliver the rest, who lived at a distance, in the course |:
of a few days.
disbanded, and the several chiefs came to Cesar’s
camp to offer allegiance, and negotiate or intrigue for
their own separate interests.
On the day that this peace was concluded, and not
before, the unlucky transports, with the Roman cavalry,
were enabled to, quit their port on the coast of Gaul.
‘They stood across the channel with a gentle gale; but
when they neared the British coast, and were even
within view of Cesar’s camp, they. were dispersed by a
tempest, and were finally obliged. to return to the port
where they had been so. long detained, and whence they
had set out that morning: That very night, Cesar
says, it happened to be full moon, when the tides al-
ways rise highest—“ a fact at that tine wholly unknown
to the Romans *”’—and the galleys which he had with
him, and which were hauled up on the beach, were
filled with the rising waters, while his heavier trans-
ports, that lay at anchor in the roadstead, were either
dashed to pieces, or rendered altogether unfit for
sailing. This disaster spread a general consternation
through the camp; for, as every legionary knew, there
were no other vessels to carry back the troops, uor any
materials with the army to repair the ships that were
disabled; and as it had been from the beginning
Ceesar’s design not to winter in Britain, but in Gaul,
he was wholly unprovided with corn and provisions to
feed his troops. Suetonius says, that during the nine
years Cesar held the military command in Gaul, amidst
a most brilliant series of successes, he experienced only
three signal disasters ; and he counts the almost entire
destruction of his fleet by a storm in Britain as one of
the three,
Nor were the invaded people slow in perceiving the
extent of Casar’s calamity, and devising means to profit
by it.
visions, and ships; a close inspection showed that his
troops were not so numerous as they had fancied, and
probably familiarized them in some measure to their
warlike weapons and demeanour; and they confidently
hoped, that by defeating this force, or surrounding and
cutting off their retreat, and starving them, they should
prevent all future invasions. ‘The chiefs i in the camp,
having previously. held secret consultations among them-
selves, retired, by degrees, from the Romans, and began
to draw the islanders. together. Cesar says, that though
he was not fully apprized of their designs, he partly
euessed them, and from their delay in sending in the hos-
* The operations of the Roman troops had hitherto been almost
confined to the Mediterranean, where there is no perceptible tide.
Yet, during their stay on the coast of Gaul, on the opposite side
of the channel, they ought to have become acquainted with these
phenomena, Probably they had never attended to the irregulari-
hes of a spring-tide,
The native forces then seemed entirely :
as possible.
He rushed to the spot with two cohorts, leaving orders
for all the other soldiers of the legion to follow as soon
His arrival was very opportune, for he
found the legion which had been surprised in the corn-
‘fheld, and which had. suffered considerable loss, now
surrounded and. pressed on all sides by the cavalry and
{
the neighbouring woods.
war-chariots of the British, who had beén concealed by
He succeeded in bringing
off the engaged “legion, with which he withdrew to his
‘intrenched - camp, declining a seneral engagement for
i
the preseut. Heavy rains, that followed for some
t | days, confined the Romans within their intrenchments.
Meanwhile the British force of horse and foot was in-
creased from all sides, and they gradually drew round
the intrenchmenis. Cesar, anticipating their attack,
‘marshalled his legions outside of the camp, and, at the
defeat.
They plainly saw he was in want of cavalrs , pro- |
proper moinent, “fell upon the islanders, who, he says,
not being able to sustain the shock, were soon put to
flight. In this victory he attaches great importance to
a body of thirty horse, which Comius, the Atrebatian,
had brought over from Gaul, The Romans pursued
the fugitives as far as their strength would permit ;
they slaughtered many of them, set “fire to some houses
and villages, and then returned again to the protection
of their camp. On the same day the Britons again
sued for peace, and Cesar, being anxious to return {o
Gaul as quickly as possible, ‘‘ because the equinox was
approaching, and his ships were leaky,” granted it to
them on no harder condition than that of doubling the
number of hostages they had promised after their first
He did not even wait for the hostages, but a
fair wind springing up, he set sail at midnight, and
arrived safely in Gaul. Eventually only two of the
British states sent their hostages; and this breach of
‘treaty gave the Roman commander a ground of com-
plaint by which to justify his second invasion.
ADVENTURES IN EGYPT AND SYRIA.
Continued from No, 317.}
‘* At this time the camp was filled with sick and wounded,
who died hourly, and no sooner dead than they were
thrown into the intrenchments with as little ceremony as
you would throw asand-bag. This greatly intimidated
their comrades; and nothing but murmuring and abuse
was heard throug hont the camp against their chief, who
had brought them from their Dota country to be massa-
ered and starved in this vile country; many at thesame
time, in the presence of their chief, declaring they would
no more attempt to mount the breach,—at the same
time saying they had mounted it in vain seven or eight
different times, and found it was impossible to take pos-
session of the place whilst the English remained there.”
The fact is, the plague was now raging in Bonaparte’s
army. Even duri ng the short siege ‘of J affa, many men
1837,]
died of this horrible disorder; and though all means:
were taken to conceal the true name and nature of the.
malady, the surgeons affirming that it was uot the’
plague, and exposing themselves most courageously as.
a proof of their assertious, the soldiers could not loug
be deceived, and finally every one who felt a pain in’
the head or groin concluded that he was plague-struck,
Let us relieve for a moment the gloom and horror of
Before Kleber’s expedition, which Ca-.
valiero proceeds to notice, Murat was sent with his
cavalry to make a reconnoissance towards the river
this narrative.
, ordan. It was the custom of this fearless man, even
when on an advanced post, always to undress himself
and sleep in sheets—which he was careful to have of
the finest quality. ‘‘If the enemy should surprise us
some night,” said Miot, *‘ what would you do?” “Kh
bien!” replied Murat, ‘‘ I would mount my horse in.
my shirt, and so my soldiers would the better distin-
ouish me in the dark.” In a second expedition he
routed part of the army of Damascus, and took all
their tents, baggage, and stores. ‘The people of Da-
mascus are famous for the confection of sweetmeats,
and their army had gone to the wars well supplied with
these delicacies. A prodigious quantity was captured,
and the Frenchmen passed the night in feasting upon
them, and in singing and dancing. ‘The soldiery called
this ‘la bataille des bons-bons’’ (sugar-plum battle).
Murat had only one horse wonnded in it. We now
return to our straightforward journal writer.
‘* General Kleber's division was despatched to keep
the communication of Mount Lebanon and Jerusalem
open, as everything now became so scarce that we were
oblived to kill the wounded horses and camels to eat.
All the standing’ cornu in the fields was gathered, and
boiled as a substitute for bread; some of the troops
could not stomach the horse and camel’s flesh, and some
of the Italians * would say, ‘dz questo vene fo un buon
regalo, ov, I make you a present of this. Troops were
now getting ready to mount the breach again, Colonel
Broune desiring me to get his best uniforin ready, and
his boots without spurs, as a part of the cavalry were
going to act as dismounted troops with the infantry to
endeavour to take possession of the place; and ac-
cordingly the breach was mounted by a strong body of
troops, who got into several parts of the town, and took
possession of some guns, but were obliged soon to
evacuate them, as the Turks were so numerous, together
with the British troops, who encouraged them, and forced.
My com-
the French troops out of the town again.
panion, Jean Castignon, would follow Colonel Broune,
and the poor fellow was unfortunately carried away by
a grape-shot in the retreat.
him to be buried, and not thrown into the intrench-
ments, as the common men were. ‘The camp was uow
in the greatest confusion, all hopes of taking the town
were given up; men fifty at a time would desert the:
camp, with their arms and baggage. Every one pre-
paring for a retreat, Colone] Broune desired me to have
a camel killed, and to preserve enough for ourselves,
and to give the remainder to such officers of the
regiment as would accept it, which they received as a
ereat fayour, and thought to be ‘un buonissimo regalo’
(a very good present). He also ordered me to take a
horse and a camel, and one of his servants, and ‘¢o into
the country to try if [ could purchase anything from the
Syrians. JT accordingly took my arms and two of the
leather bags, the only ones remaiving, the others having
beeu burned by the heat of the sun. In our march we
were joined by another small party on the same errand.
We travelled alinost the whole day without meeting
with anything; at length we proposed to give some
money to the Egyptian and Syrian servants and send
them further into the conntry, near Jerusalem, and wait
for them ourselves until next morning; they returned
* Many Cisalpine Italians were in the expedition.
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
Colonel Broune ordered.
103
punctually, and brought with them some bread, wine,
onions, cheese, and fruit, with which we were much
pleased, and I did not forget to promise my Egyptian a
new suit of clothes for having been so brave, at which
the fellow was so delighted that he kissed my hand in
token of regard. My share was about two gallons of
sweet wine, two dozen of dry onions, some dry figs, and
about six pounds of bread, with about three ¢allons of
muddy water, which I had by me. On our arrival at
the camp I observed great confusion among the men,
and particularly with the sick and wounded; Colonel
Broune seemed very elad of my safe arrival, for having
been absent from him nearly thirty-six hours, lie thought
I had been killed or taken prisoner. He almost imme:
diately desired me to get all things ready to evacuate
the camp, where we now heard nothing but cries and
lamentations from the sick and wounded men, who
considered themselves abandoned to the murderous
Turks. A ninber of them would try to march alone
the sea-side, hoping they might be fortunate enough to
fall into the hands of the English, or get as far as Jaffa,
where they might be embarked. Hundreds of them
were not able to proceed further than a mile, when they
would drop on the sands and were left behind to die.
Several pieces of cannon were buried in the sands; all
the cainp equipage, tents, and a great number of arms,
were collected together and set on fire, in order that
they might not fall into the hands of the enemy. How-
ever, we soon reached Jaffa, within a small distance of
which the army halted, and some of the sick and
wounded were embarked on board of Greek vessels,
that directed their course towards Damietta, with very
little provisions and water; but all their hopes were,
that they would fall in with the English *.”
The Enelish were aware that the plague was raging
in the French army. It therefore could not be ex-
pected that they would approach these infected vessels or
be anxions to make any prisoners. On several occasions
a humane regard was however sllown towards the suf-
ferers. Sir Sydney Smith upon their retreat from Acre
followed the French, with his ships close along shore,
as far as Jaffa: lie cannonaded a body of them as they
filed into that town, but the moment he perceived that
it consisted of sick and wounded, he ordered the firing
to cease, and allowed the convoy to pass unmolested.
* At Jaffa my stay was very short—only four days
—as the army continued its march towards Eeypt
on the 28th of May. Provisions and water were still
very scarce; I believe Colonel Broune had as @ood a
stock as Bonaparte himself. Our party consisted of
five, and we had only about two gallons of water, four
or five bottles of wine, fonr ‘or five pounds of bread,
and ten or twelve pounds of horse and cainel’s flesh.
This supply we thought, with great care, night be suf-
ficient to serve us until we reached some part of Keypt,
where we might procure more. All the horses in the
army weve a great deal worse off than the men, as
sometimes they were obliged to give them salt water
to drink, in consequence of which many of them died;
and we could not use the flesh, as we had not, nor could
we find, any fuel to make a fire to dress it, and the
Turks, Albanians, and Syrian Arabs were pursuing us
closely. In the month of June following, the army fell
in with a field of water and sweet inelons, the whole of
which were devoured in a very short time. The enemy
observing the great confusion among the men, fell
upon General Kleber’s division, which formed the rear-
ouard, and which suffered ereatly from the Albanians.
‘The general was himself surrounded by seven or eight
of the Albanians, and defended himself desperately 5 It
was reported that he killed three himself; but he was
severely wounded by their sabres. A great nuniber of
standards were taken from the Turks. The next day
* Bourrienne, who was with Bonaparte, demes that any of the
l infected were shipped at Jafia,
104
the army continued their march over the burning
sands, and it is almost impossible to describe the suffer-
ings of the sick and wounded men, who would drop on
the sand twenty at a time, and they were there left in
this dying condition.. Many could not proceed from
fatieue. Others swelled by drinking so much salt-
water; they could not follow their comrades, and in
this deplorable condition some would put an end to
their existence by placing the muzzles of their muskets
under their chins, and letting them off with their toes.
No assistance was g@iven to the sick and wounded that
were left behind. At length it was reported that
Bonaparte had ordered some drugs to be given to the
sick and wounded, to put an end to their existence.”
Cavaliero here alludes to the report, which was uni-
versally believed in the army at the time, that Bonaparte
had ordered doses of opium to be given to a nuinber of
plague patients at Damietta, who were unable to follow
the retreating army, and certain of being barhbarously
murdered by the fast advancing ‘Turks if they were left
behind alive. No point in the hfe of Napoleon has
been more vehemently debated than this. Some of
his partisans have denied it altogether, but others have
satisfied themselves with reducing the number of the
victims from sixty or a hundred, to eight or six, or two
or three, and with justifying the deed as a merciful
dispensation, inasmuch as it abbreviated the sufferings
of a few whose disease was hopeless, and tended to
prevent the contagion from spreading. In the latter
years of his life, the dethroned emperor allowed that
he held a consultation with Desgenettes, the clef
surgeon, in which poison was spoken of; he even
argued that he should have been justifiable in adminis-
tering the poison, and said that, under the circum-
stances, he would have advised the same treatment for
his own son, and demanded it for himself; but it seems
to us he never clearly admitted that he did administer
the poison, or order. it.to be administered. ‘The report
which was spread in Europe soon after, of his poisoning
500 sick Frenchmen, was a gross absurdity; but that a
deep-rooted belief of his having so disposed of a few
unfortunate individuals obtained in the army on its
retreat from Jaffa, can admit of no doubt whatever,
and when coupled with the frightful loss they had sus-
tained at Acre, and with their actual and extreme suf-
ferings, we may almost be surprised that the irritated
soldiers did not shoot him. It appears from Cavaliero
that he was at one moment in danger of this; and we
Know no single anecdote more characteristic of the man,
han the one contained in our [talian’s next paragraph.
“'The troops upbraided him for this with most bitter
“anguage, representing the men as dying in consequence
of this cruel order, and exclaiming, ‘ Shoot the tyrant!’
Shoot the Corsican rebel!’ with many other abusive
words; but he, with the utmost fortitude, listened to
their reproaches, and answered them coolly in the fol-
Jowing words :— For shame! for shame! You are too
many to assassinate me, and too few to intimidate me!’
(Vous é@les trop pour me tier, ef trop peu pour m in-
timider!) ‘The soldiers exclaimed with astonishment,
‘What courage the fellow has got!’ (Quel courage a
Be la) and so nothing happened to him.” -
“On the return of the army from Acre, we began to
find ourselves approaching into Egypt by the number
of Arabs and Mamelukes that we daily saw. Also,
some date-trees were now and then to be seen, which
we immediately cut down to get the interior part of the
tree, containing a pleasant waterish liqnor, as also the
young branches. Many also began to search for water,
which induced me to ask Colonel Broune’s permission
to go in quest of some, as the few drops we had re-
maining in our leathern bag were boiling hot from the
heat of the sun. He then told me the dangerous con-
sequences of parting from the main body of the army,
explaining to me that there was as much danger from
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
[Marcu 18, 1837.
nos soldats (our own soldiers) as from the Arabs ana
Mamelukes. But we being so distressed for water,
I at leneth prevailed, and Colonel Broune let me have
two horsemen to accompany me. [ took my leather
bag and a cord which I had by me, and cut up one of
my boots to serve as a bucket. Colonel Broune let me
take his ostrich-ezg, which held about three pints ; it
was very beautifully ornamented with gold. We left
the army on the right, and after proceeding about two
miles, we observed a number of men together, which,
on our nearer approach, we found were a part of our
army,—above 300 of the infantry, who had met with a
well of brackish water, but would not let us come near
it, pointing their muskets at us, and declaring they
would shoot us if we dared approach the well. Find-
ing it was utterly impossible even to get a drop to
moisten our lips, we proposed going towards a ‘sand-
hill, hoping to meet with some date-trees, that being a
sure sign of water being near at.hand. On our ap-
proaching: the hill, to our great astonishment we beheld
about sixty Arabs and Mamelukes, who immediately
discharged their muskets at us, which wounded me in
my left lex; and I had: only time-to discharge my
pistols at them when my horse fell under me, being
wounded in several places. My right lee was un-
fortunately caught under the horse in falling; they
then attacked me while down, and with my pistol I
parried off: several blows aimed at my head ; at last I
was unfortunately wounded in my hand, and then I
received’ a violent. blow upon my head which deprived
me of my senses. On my recovering, 1 found they
were gone; I supposed they imagined I was dead, or
probably some ‘of our rear-guard had, heard the dis-
charge of their muskets and appeared in sight, which
had alarmed them: and caused their retreat. My two
companions, I found, lay dead near nie. I remained
nearly twenty-four hours: under the horse, constantly
expecting some one or other would: come to put an end
to my sufferings. I tried all means to extricate myself
from under the horse, but all my exertions proved in-
effectual, being quite blinded with the blood gushing
from the wounds in my head running down my face,
and the wind blowing the sand constantly over it made
it dry and hard, and I not having strength left to rub
it off. But the Almighty through lis mercy spared my
life. In this state I heard the voices of men, and, on
their near approach, I found by their language they
were roving Arabs, going in search of plunder. When
they pulled me from under the horse, they perceived I
was not quite dead, though entirely speechless; howw-
ever, I made such signs as I was able, putting my
hands to my mouth, signifying [ wanted something to
wet my lips, being so parched, which they understood,
and poured some water into my mouth ;—and I verily
believe these few drops of water saved my life. On my
recovering a little, they saw the sad condition I was in
and had compassion on me and placed me upon an ass,
with my face downwards. In this state they carried
me till the evening. When they stopped for the night,
they laid me on the sand, and gave me more water to
drink; they also washed my wounds, and the blood
from my face and eyes; and so, by this means, I was
enabled to see. ‘We remained on the sand till the
morning, when they mounted’ me ‘a second time as
before. They continued their journey, but+I could
form no idea where they. were carrying me to. The
motion of the ass gave me great pain, and caused my
wounds to bleed again, which they stopped by putting
sand in them.”
210
[To be continued.] / J a
*.* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at
59, Lincoln’s Inn Fields,
LONDON: CHARLES KNIGHT & CO., 22, LUDGATE STREET.
Printed by Witriam CLowszs and Sons, Stamford Street,
THE PENNY MAGAZINE
OF THE
Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge.
PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY.
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[The Podargus Papuensis. ]
Tue goatsucker, night-jar, or fern-owl (Caprimulgus | arranged in lines, dashes, bars, and zigzags, producing
Europeus), is the British representative of an exten-
sive and very iiteresting family of birds (Caprimul-
gide), distributed respectively over every quarter of
the globe. Divided into several genera, the Caprimul-
gide present leading characteristics so marked and
definite as to render it impossible that they should be
mistaken. Crepuscular, or nocturnal in their habits,
and feeding on nocturnal insects, such as moths, &c.,
which they take on the wing, their structure, their
flight, and even the colours of their plumage, are in
admirable accordance with their appointed mode of
life. ‘The head is broad, the eyes large and full, the
beak compressed, with a wide gape running back
beneath the eyes, and garnished along the edge with a
close fringe of stiff long bristles. The tarsi are short,
and in the typical genus, Caprimulgus, the middle toe
is broad, and serrated along the outer edge. The
plumage is full and soft, and its colouring consists of
an exquisite effect, and often defying imitation. In
the restricted genus Caprimulgus, of which our beau-
tiful goatsucker is an example, the beak is small and
weak, the tarsi very short, and the wings long and
pointed. The flight is buoyant, quick, and noiseless,
and distinguished by turns and evolutions performed
with great ease and grace. It is always on the wing:
that the goatsucker takes its prey. At nightfall it
issues forth from its retreat and begins its insect chase,
suspending its active operations at intervals, during
which, settled on some perch, it utters a jarring note,
resembling the vibrating sound produced by the quick
rotation of a spinning-wheel. ‘This note 1s occasion-
ally, but not often, uttered during flight ; and when a
pair of these birds are sporting together on the wing,
they also sometimes utter a low but shrill cry, repeated
four or five times in succession.
Like the swallow-tribe, the true goatsuckers are pre-
intermingled mellow tints of grey, brown, and yellow, | eminently aérial ; indeed their small and feeble tarsi
Vou. VI.
[Marcu 25, 1837,
%
“¥
106.
disqualify them for searching after food on the ground,
while their ample wings give them the power of quick
and easy flight. The ‘swallow, however, 1s a hunter by
day,—the ooatsucker by night,—the for ner keeps up
ai unceasing attack on the ‘myriads of smaller insects
which teem in the air,—the eoatsucker feeds on moths,
chafers, aud the larger insects, which come forth when
the rest have retired.
wing are considerable, but the flight of the goatsucker
differs essentially in its character from that of the
swallow; it is more undulating, more buoyant, more
irregular, and far less continuous. It flits alone on
wing's whose fanning is not heard, and in this respect
resembles the owl no less than in ifs nocturnal habits.
The popular names fern-owl and churn-owl, indeed
indicate that the resemblalices between the coatsucker
and the owl have not escaped common observation,
The large head, the wide gape of the beak, which is
hooked at the tip, the large’ nocturnal eyes, the soft,
loose, full plumage, and even its blended tints, all
tend to fill up a certain measure of approxtination ; 3 but
this approach of the Capr imulgide to the owls is far
more strikingly exhibited by the genus Podargus, than
by the genus Capr imulqus. In Podargus, for ‘example,
the beak, instead of being simall and weal, 1 is larve and
strong; the cudmen, or ridge of the upper mandible is
curved,—the gape is enormous, but the edges of the
beak have no rows of fringe- like lashes; on the other
hand, there is a tendency towards a radiation of feathers
round the eyes, and those at the base of the bill are lax
and almost hair-like, resembling the feathers which
form the facial disc in the owl. In Caprimudgus the
tarsi are, as we have said, very feeble, and the claw
of the middle toe pectinated; on the contrary, in
Podargus, the tarsi are more strong, and the claw
of the middle toe is entirely destitute of pectination.
With this increased development of the tarsi, the
wings are abbreviated, the quill-feathers being smaller
and aehieate In the genus Podargus we see, in fact,
a departure in minor characters, from those which
the typical forms of the family display ; in the genus
Asgotheles, another genus belonging to the “gout-
suckers, a ‘still further departure is to be traced; and
the same observation may be extended “ onwards. In
every natural family, indeed, there exists a series of
eradations (more or less apparent), by which one family
approaches to another, leading to the conviction of a
oneness of design and ‘method, carried out through the
whole range of nature. Where such links are wanting,
we nay suppose that they either exist undiscovered, or
that they have previously existed, but have passed away ;
aud hence it often happens that fossil relics supply the
hiatus in the gradual transition of form to form, for-
cibly inculcating the doctrine that the system of organic
being is complete and unbroken. With respect, how-
ever, to the genus Podargus, its affinities are clear; it is
one of the aberrant mwenera of the Caprimuleide, and
as its structure departs, to a certain extent, from thie
typical form presented by our common voatsucker, SO
also it exhibits a corresponding difference with regard
to habits and manners. I/xclusively confined to Aus-
tralia, and the islands of the Indian pe logo, the
genus Podareus consists of seven or eight species only,
as far as hitherto discovered, and of these, one is the
Podargus Papuensis, represented in the annexed en-
graving, which 1s copied after a drawing taken from a
speciinen in the Museum of Paris. It appears to be
closely allied to a very rare species from Java, described
under the name of Podargus Javenensis, Horsfield.
~ Besides these, the following remarkable species (and
one or two more might be added) are peculiarly de-
servine of notice. First, the Horned Poaargus, from
Sumatra (Podargus cornutus), which indeed from the
size of the head, the development of the ear-plumes |
.THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
In both cases the powers of
[Marcu 25,
into large full tufts, the great staring eyes, and the
powerful beak, might be Alifost mistaken for an owl.
Secondly, the Stanley Podargus (Podargus Stanley-
anus) from Australia, described in Latham, vol. vii., as
the wedge-tailed goatsucker. Thirdly, the Podargius
humeralis, or Cold- river ooat-sucker, of Latham (vol.
vi.), also from Australia. Fourthly, the Podargus Cu-
viert, or Benit of the aborigines of Australia; this is
described by Mr. Caley as being nocturnal in its habits,
appearing stupified by day. All these species exhibit
the distinctive characters of their genus.
The formation of the wing renders their flight less
buoyant and undulating than in the typical eoatsuckers,
though it is at the same time rapid; and the enormous
gape of the beak, conjoined with its strength, enables
them to take in the larger insects, and such as are clad
with hard wing-cases. ‘The I*reuch give to the com-
mon goatsucker, among other names, that of crapaud
volant Cilying toad), in allusion to the noise it makes,
and perhaps also to its wide gape: the depressed forna
of the head, and the enormously wide e@ape of the birds
of this genus, give them a better claim to such a title,
and indeed, without much impropriety, they may be
regarded as representatives among the feathered race of
those nocturnal, dusky, insectivorous reptiles. With
respect to their habits of incubation, nothing is as-
certained; though in this respect they inost probably
resemble the common eoatsucker, which deposits its
egos on the ground, among ferns, or a similar covert,
where the spot is dry ; they are two in number.
The goatsucker is migratory in our latitudes, but we
know not whether the species of the genus Podargus
obey a similar law. Ji is not unlikely, however, that
those peculiar to Australia pass periodically from one
district to another, as is the case with the greater num-
ber, if not all, of the feathered tenants of that vast
insular continent (if the phrase be allowed), which, ac-
cording to the statements of various travellers, migrate
from one region to another, disappearing from oiven
districts at certain seasons, and returning at others.
In North America, the meht-hawk (Capr imulerws
Americanus) and that curious bird the “* Whip-poor-
will ” (Caprimulgus vociferus), are migratory.
Even more confused by the light than is the common
‘goatsucker, the members of ne venus Podargus are
completely nocturnal; they haunt “the solitudes of the
woods, and the sombre but intermingled tints of their
plumage screen them from observation. At night they
issue forth: on their aerial chase, and retire ath the
first streaks of day to their wonted seclusion.
Tn connexion with our observations on the genus
Podargus, we cannot omit a short notice of a most
extraordinary bird, in many respects closely related to
this genus, but which truly forms the type of a distinet
generic eroup, under the title of Sfeatornis.. We allude
to the Guacharo (Steatornis caripensis, Humb.), of
which a memoir is published in the ‘ Nouvelles An-
nales du Museum,’ vol. ili., part 4, by M. l’Herminier.
The Guacharo is a native of the range of deep and
oloomy caverns of Caripe, in the province of Cumana,
where it was first discovered by MM. Humboldt and
Bonpland in the year 1799. ‘These caverns are formed
in the sides of tremendous calcareous rocks, divided by
a stupendous chasm, over which are thrown the famous
bridges of Icononzo. ‘* Numberless flights of noc-
turnal birds,” says Humboldt, ‘‘ haunt the crevice, and
which we were led at first to mistake for bats of a
gigantic size. ‘Thousands of them are seen flying
over the surface of the water. The Indians assured us
that they are of the size of a fowl, with a curved beak
and an owls eye. They are called cacas, and the
uniform colour of their plumage, which is blueish erey,
leads me to think that they belong to the genus of
Caprimulgus, the species of which are so various in the
1687.]
Cordilleras. It is impossible to catch them on account
of the depth of the valley, and they can only be ex-
amined by throwing down rockets to illumine the sides
of the rock.”
M. Depens, in his ‘ History of South America,’
alludes to the same bird, of which he says, millions
inhabit the cavern called Guacharo, which is immense,
and that their fat yields the ‘ oil of Guacharo.” .Two
Guacharos (for the bird takes.the name of the cavern)
were at last shot by M. Bonpland, by torchlight, and
drawn and described by M. Humboldt: they were,
however, lost by shipwreck, on their way to France, in
1801.
In 1831, M.1Herminier had the good fortune to
obtain three of these birds killed in the great cavern of
Caripe, and his memoir is accompanied with an ex-
cellent figure. He adds, that he was in hopes of
procuring others also, both young and old, when the
annual chase of these birds, which the Indians in the
neighbourhood are in the habit of making, should take
place.
“Taken from the nest, and submitted to a fire of
brush-wood, the young guacharos furnish an abun-
dance of semi-liquid, transparent, inodorous oil, equally
valued for the uses of the kitchen, and for burning in
lamps, and which keeps above a.year without becoming
rancid, The seeds and fruits contained in their stomach
are also collected with care, and constitute under the
name of © semilla del Gnacharo,’ a celebrated remedy
in the intermittent fevers of Cariaco.”
The Guacharo is about seventeen or eighteen inches
in length, the extent of its wings being upwards of
three feet ; when closed they nearly reach to the end of
the tail, which is ample and graduated. The beak is
strong, large, solid, arched above, and armed at tlie
edges of the upper mandible with a sharp tooth-like
projection ; a full tuft of lone bristles arises from the
base, and arches over the beak; the gape is very wide.
The eyes are moderately large, the tarsi short but
stout, and the toes are armed with stout hooked claws
well adapted for clinging to the sides of rocks. The
middle claw is not pectinated, and the whole structnre
of their foot much resembles that of the swift.
Closely allied to the genus Podargus, with which it
has been associated until lately, the g@uacharo differs
from this group, and every other among the Caprimul-
oide in the nature of its diet; it is in a great measure,
if not exclusively, a berry-feeder,—at least if the ac-
counts given by the natives are to be credited; unfor-
tunately the stomachs of the individuals obtained by
M. Herminier were empty; he observes, however,
that the digestive apparatus resembles that of the goat-
suckers in general, and that this circumstance, in con-
nexion with the structnre of the bill, renders it difficult
not to believe but that the @uacharo is insectivorous.
The colour of the specimen figured is nch brown
or maroon, with reddish white spots on the wines, and
faint bars of black across the tail. M. Humboldt de-
scribes his specimens as of a deep blueish grey: there
may be two species.
Latham describes an allied species (if it be not thie
same,) under the name of Trinidad eoatsuckers, which
inhabits hy thousands “ the coves forming. the Bocases,
an entrance into the eulf of Paria, accessible only at
the lowest ebb tides ;” they are eaten as delicacies,
but have an unpleasant flavour to persons not accus-
tomed to them. In April and May they are destroyed
in great numbers, and boat-loads of the young are pre-
pared and salted for the market at Trinidad, where
they are eagerly purchased. Latham places this species
among the large-billed, or Podargus section.
THE PENNY MAGAZINE,
iand the Tyrolese,’
107
Public Walks.—There is an excellent project in contem-
plation at Hull; it is to secure a large and complete prome-
nade round the whole of the town. The Provisional Com-
mittee say, ‘ No town in the kingdom is at present so de-
void of interesting walks as Hull; and when it is considered
that the promenade will extend completely round the town,
for a distance of 43 miles by 50 yards, and contain two
spacious foot roads and a splendid carriage road, with rows
of trees on each side, it must be admitted that no town will
then be able to outvie it. To carry this object into effect,
it is proposed to purchase ground, the whole extent of the
road, of the width of 150 yards, reserving to the landowners
the privilege of forming the road through thei own land
on the proposed plan, and thereby obtaining excellent front-
ages for building. The road, when completed, 1s proposed
to be thrown open for the public benefit, and the ground on
each side of it will be equally divided amongst the sub-
scribers by lot; so that each subscriber of 100/. will be en-
titled, after conferring an inestimable benefit on the public,
to about 2000 square yards of building ground, with a
frontage to this splendid promenade or avenue.
Wood Carving at Groden.—The Cicerone of the place
was the sexton, in whose house, as in every other, is carried
on the wood-carving that has so enriched Gréden, because
it so delights good little chitdren. At his invitation we
entered one of the small pleasant houses of which the
village is composed. In aneat wainscotted room, a number
of old men and women sat round a table, each having a
piece of wood in hand, at which they were diligently cutting
away. A lively old dame immediately took up a fresh piece,
saying she would cut out a fox in our presence: whereupon
another offered her services for a wolf, one man his for a
Tyrolese, and a second man his for a smoking Dutchman.
It was wonderful to see how boldly they began cutting, how
certain was their shaping, how quickly the outlines were
apparent. They assured us that they never spoiled a piece
of wood, but showed us their hands and fingers covered with
scars, and said that many carvers maimed themselves,
They spoke with sovereign contempt of the drawing-school
established in the valley by government, thinking that he
who had it not in his head could never learn their art.
They carved as their parents had carved before them, and
the young ones who were taught to draw carved no better.
They told us that the first person who introduced this wood-
carving into the valley was one Johann de Mez, to whom,
in the year 1703, it occurred to carve picture-frames of the
wood of the pine, which frames, though plain atid coarsely
wrought, found purchasers. The brothers Martin and Do-
minik Vinager immediately saw that this occupation might
prove a source of profit to the poor valley, in which, from its
great elevation, neither wheat nor buck-wheat succeeded,
and thie scanty crops of .rye were insufficient for the support
of the inhabitants. The soft ductile pine-wood abounded
on the mountain side; aided only by their native acuteness
and talent, the brothers attempted the first figures, suc-
ceeded, and found numerous imitators. They then went to
Venice for instruction, and returned able artists. Presently
the whole valley was carving wood ; and with this new-born
activity awoke that peculiar spirit of industry and specula-
tion which slumbers in almost every Tyrolese valley, await-
ing only a favourable moment to start forth into vigorous
life. Whilst the women carved at home, the men went
abroad to sell their wares. * * * Thus was introduced a
valuable manufacture and export trade, in which the whole
population of the valley was terested. Where, fifty years
before, nothing but poverty and privation were to be seen,
plenty reigned. * * * But the carvers were iniprovident.
For a century they carved busily away. Pine after pine
was felled, converted into images of man and beast, and
dispersed thronghout the world in exchange for money.
No one thought of preserving or propagating the beneficent
tree; and one fine morning when the carvers repaired to
the mountain to fell a pine, they discovered, to their horror,
that not ome was left. In vain they explored recesses,
ravines, and water-courses, in all directions; not a pine
could they see, and despondently they returned home to
collect all the despised and rejected fragments, and carve
them, as they might, into dwarf puppets and lapdogs. They
are now reduced to the hard necessity of sharing their gains
with the inhabitants of the neighbouring valleys, by pur-
chasing pine-wood of them, until the seeds they have sown
shali have grown into serviceable trees.—Lewald's * Tyrol
P 2
168
THE PENNY MAGAZINE
[Marcu 2h,
BRITISH FISHERIES.—No. VII.
Tye MACKEREL.
f pa |
DD Vai
=>
[The Mackerel.—Scomber Scombrus.]
THe mackerel, though of the same order as the herring, |
pilchard, and sprat, belongs to a distinct family,—to
which also belong the tunny, the bonito, the sword-fish,
the dory, or doree, and several other kinds. The mac-
kerel, wnich is placed at the head of this division of
acanthopterygti, was known to the Greeks by the name
-of cxoppoc (scombros); and the generic term for all fish
comprised in this class is Scomberide. 'The name given
to the mackerel by the Frencli, German, and Dutch, as
well as by the English, is derived from.the Latin word
macula, a spot; that is, the spotted or streaked fish.
Hence the term ‘“ mackerel-sky” is also applied to a
well-known: formation of- the clouds. The mackerel
is perhaps the most beautiful of our British fishes,
being elegant in its form as well as brilliant.in’ colour.
The back is varied with hues of fine green and rich
blue, and is marked by broad transverse lines, of a
dark colour. Mr. Donovan, in his ‘ British Fishes,’
States, that “ the males have these dark transverse bands
veatly straight; while in females these bands are ele-
gantly undulated.” The colours are much richer when
the fish is first taken out of the water; but even when
exhibited on the stalls of the fishmongers in London,
they are still brilliant. The scales are small and smooth ;
and it will be seen, on reference to the engraving, that
some of the posterior rays of the second back, and the
caudal, or tail-fin, form very small-sized tins. The
weight of the mackerel is generally under two lbs.; but
Pennant mentions one individual sold in the London
market which weighed five lbs. and a quarter. The
ordinary length is fourteen or sixteen inches, but some
are found of the length of twenty inches.
The mackerel approaches the coast in large shoals,
and it was formerly considered that its annual move-
iments were from northern to southern latitudes, and
from southern to northern; but this fish is to be
met with in our own seas at all seasons of the year,
though in the winter they are not found in great num-
bers; and the situation of those parts of the coast
where they make their first appearance disproves the
fact of their migrating only in a southern direction
when the season has become more genial, as they fre-
guently appear on a southern part of the coast before
they have visited its northern limits. On the Cornish
coast, which the fish often visit so early as the month
of March, the course of the shoals seems to be from
west to east. ‘This year the fishing-season on the
Sussex coast commenced early in February, and some
were taken in January, but the number was small, and
they were sold in London at from 1s. to 2s. each When
the fishermen commence very early in the year, they
have to proceed a considerable distance out to sea, as the
fish do not approach the coast until a more advanced
period. May and June are the busiest months for
mackerel-fishing. In the latter month they spawn, the
female roe containing above half a million ova. The
process of depositing spawn takes place earlier on a
sandy and shallow shore than on a rugged coast, the
former being also more favourable to vivification.
Previous to winter, the young retire to deep water.
The mackerel may be considered as frequenting nearly
every part of the coasts of the United Kingdom, but it
is most abundant on the southern portion of Great
Britain, on the coasts of Sussex, Kent, Hampshire, and
the western counties, and on those of Suffolk and
Norfolk. They do not make their appearance on the
Scotch coast until late in the summer. Whatever may
be the fact as to their migration to the arctic seas,
the following statemeit, taken from the ‘ Edinburgh
Journal of Science,’ shows that they are found in those
latitudes under singular circumstances :—“ Admiral Ple-
ville-Lepley, who had had his home on the ocean for
half a century, assured M. Lacepéde, that in Greenland,
in the smaller bays surrounded with rock, so.common
on tbis coast, where the water is always calm, and the
bottom generally soft mud and juice, he had seen, in the
beginning of spring, myriads of mackerel, with their
heads sunk some inches in the mud, their tails elevated
vertically above its level; and that this mass of fish
was such, that at a distance it might be taken for a
reef of rocks. ‘The admiral supposed that the mackerel
had passed the winter torpid under the ice and snow;
and added, that for fifteen or twenty days after their
arrival, these fishes were affected with a kind of blind-
hess, and that then many were taken with the net; but
as they recovered their sight, the nets would not answer,
and hooks and lines were used.” We do not find that
writers on ichthyology have noticed the occurrence of
any similar fact with regard to the mackerel; but
Mr. Yarrell*, in his notice of the tench, reports, that
he was told they “ bury themselves in soft mud during
winter ;” and he adds, that they “ certainly move very
little in the colder months of the year.” The same
writer, speaking of eels, states, that during winter they
remain ‘* imbedded in mud,” to the depth of twelve or
sixteen inches. ‘Thus they remain in a state of tor-
pidity; but experiments have proved that eels possess
a low degree of respiration, and also a low animal tem-
perature, from which arises the tenacity of life for which
they are remarkable. These qualities the mackerel
does not possess, and the probability of their becoming
torpid is much less; but until their physiological orga-
nization has been more accurately examined, it is per-
haps hazardous to deny the possibility of their being
able to remain for some time in a torpid state. Fish
will bear both a very high and an equally low tem-
perature. John Hunter, in his ‘ Animal Economy,’
speaks of fish that, after being frozen, still retain so
much of life as, when thawed, to resume their vital
actions; and in Bushnan’s ‘ Introduction to the Study
of Nature,’ it is stated, that “ perch have been frozen,
and in this condition transported for miles. If, when
in this state, fishes are placed in water near a fire,
they soon begin to exhibit symptoms of reanimation ;
* ¢ British Fishes,’ vol, i. p. 333.
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{Mackerel Boats in the Bay of Hastings—Beachy Head in the Distance. |
the fins quiver,—the gills open,—the fish gradually
turns itself on its belly, and moves slowly round the
vessel, till at length, completely revived, it swims
briskly about.” Perhaps, with regard to the allewed
torpidity of the mackerel, the safest way will be to sus-
pend any opinion on the point until its truth or in-
accuracy has been determined by further observation.
The mackerel-fishery is, perhaps, the liveliest, if not
the most interesting, of any which are carried on in the
British islands. ‘The flesh of the mackerel being very
tender, the greatest dispatch is used in conveying it to
market, another incentive to exertion being the high
price obtained for those fish which first arrive. The
boats are frequently putting off and returning to the
shore, the cargoes being conveyed by land carriage to
the metropolis; or, from some parts of the coast, by
vessels towed by a steam-tug. A light gale, which
eently ripples the surface of the water, and 1s called a
mackerel gale, is most favourable to the fisherman,
who chiefly follows his employment during the night.
There are three modes of fishing,—with drift-nets, with
seans, and with the line. By the latter mode a couple
of men will take from 500 to 1000 fish in one day, if
the weather be favourable. The French boats fre-
quently go out with six or eight people on board, all
of whom fish with the line; and some of them are sufh-
ciently adroit to pay attention to a couple of lines at
the same time. ‘The fish bite voraciously, and are
taken with great rapidity by a bait cut from its own
kind, and made to resemble a living fish. They will
seize, and may be taken by, a piece of scarlet cloth or
leather; anda scarlet coat has therefore been termed
““a mackerel bait for a lady.” The sean-fishing re-
quires two boats, and resembles in some respect the
same mode applied to the taking of pilchards, though
on a smaller scale, The sean, however, is sometimes
4;
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THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
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hauled on shore. The drift-net fishing is. the most
common, and by this mode a larger number of fish can
be taken than in any other way. The drift-nets are
worth from 20s. to 30s. each. Mr. Yarrell’s work, to
which we have already been more than once indebted,
contains the following minute account of the drift-net
fishing :—“ The drift-net is 20 feet deep by 120 feet
long, well corked at the top, but without lead at the
bottom. 'They are made of small fine twine, which is
tanned of a reddish-brown colour, to preserve it from the
action of the sea-water; and it is thereby rendered
much more durable. The size of the mesh about two
inches and a half, or rather larger. Twelve, fifteen,
and sometimes eighteen of these nets are attached
lenethways, by tying along a thick rope, called the
drift-rope, and, at the ends of each net, to each other.
When arranged for depositing in the sea, a large buoy
attached to the end of the drift-rope is thrown over-
board, the vessel is put before the wind, and, as she
sails along, the rope with the nets thus attached is
passed over the stern into the water till the whole of
the nets are run out. The net thus deposited Langs
suspended in the water perpendicularly twenty feet deep
from the drift-rope, and extending from three-quarters
of a mile to a mile, or even a mile and a half, depend-
ing on the number of nets belonging to the party or
company engaged in fishing together. When the whole
of the nets are thus handed out, the drift-rope is shifted
from the stern to the bow of the vessel, and she rides
by it as ifat anchor. The benefit gained by the boats
hanging at the end of the drift-rope 1s, that the net is
kept strained in a straight line, which, without this pull
upon it, would not be the case. The nets are shot in
the evening, and sometimes hauled once during the
night; at others allowed to remain in the water all
night, The fish roving in the dark through the water
6
hang in the meshes of the net, which are large enough
to admit them beyond the gill-covers and pectoral Pris.
but not large enough to allo the thickest part of the
body to pass through. In the morning early, prepara-
tions are made for hanling the nets. A capstan on the
deck is manned, about which two turns of the drift-
rope are taken. One man stands forward to untte the
upper edge of each net from the drift-rope, which is
called casting-off the lashings; others hand in the net
with the fish caucht, to which one side of the vessel is
devoted; the other side is occupied by the dnit-rope,
which is wound in by the men at the capstan.” The
most active period of the fishery has already been stated.
The seasons fluctuate considerably, an abundant year
being succeeded by a scarce one; or several of the
latter may occur together, and afterwards may be com-
pensated by successive years of plenty. On some nights
2000 or 3000 fish will be caught by one boat, and an-
other not more than a mile distant may not take 100.
This uncertainty contributes to render the fishery a
precarious source of subsistence to those who can only
embark capital in it on a small scale, and cannot stand
against the unforeseen reverses which may occur in a
short period, but are counterbalanced on an average of
years.
The boats employed are @énerally about thirty feet
in the keel, built of oak or ash, and copper-fastened.
They possess ereat depth of waist and breadth of beam,
are noted for their durability, aiid considered as fast
and safe a class of boats as are to be found in the
fisheries on any coast of the United Kingdom. From
Hastings to Dungeness the beach and coast are bold
and rocky, and the streneth of the boats was se-
verely tested in attempting to “ beach,” besides the
frequent loss of life; but latterly a different method
has been adopted of e@ainine the beach, by which
this object is effected in a more skilful and less dan-
verous manner. All the fishing-boats are required to
be licensed according to an Act of 6 Geo. IV. c. 108,
and the Commissioners of Customs are authorized to
orant or to refuse such licences, and to prescribe within
what distance of the Enelish coast they shall be em-
ployed. It was usual formerly to restrict the boats
within a distance of four leagues of the Enelish coast ;
and in obfaining a licence, impediments often occurred
through the reports of the local officers of the revenne,
which rendered it difficult for parties against whom
any suspicion of smugeling was entertained, whether
justly or not, to obtain the means of lawfully prose-
cuting their occupation.
abandoned to the fishermen on the opposite coast, and
while onr fishermen were shut out from them) those
from France or Holland freely fished on all or any of
those to which the English fishermen were limited.
The licence was not granted unless securities were
eiven, and this was also'a subject of complaint and
often embarrassment. Foi or five years ago, the
licensing’ system was relaxed, and the limits were ex-
tended to within a league of the French and Dutch
coasts; bnt securities are still required, and the secret
report, lipon suspicion’ only, of the local officer of the
customs, may occasion a difficulty in obtaining a licence.
The object of these revulations has been to protect the
revenue against smugeling,, but it is obviously not cal-
culated to secure this effect, as the French’ or Dutch
boats cannot be. brought within their operation ; and
the only consequence has been to introduce new arrange-
meuts by which to baffle the vigilance of the officers of
revenue, It is therefore to be desired that the licénsine~
system should be abolished, and that our fishermen
should proceed wherever they believe they can most
successfully obtain a car@o, care ohly beme taken not
id fringe on the rights “of their brethren on the oppo-
sile coasts. The penalties against smuggling would
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
Valuable fishing-grounds were -
[Marcn 2,
still be in full force, while those who have no idea of
engaging in the contraband trade would no longer be
annoyed ‘by regulations which are directed solely against
those who infringe the Custom-house laws,
SSE a RS ee eee
COTTAGE ECONOMY—POULTRY—TRADE
IN EGGS.
Every plan which proposes to augment the quantity
of food, and to increase the comforts of the cottager, is
deserving of consideration. The extent to which this
end may be attained by a cottager’s wife directing her
attention to the management of poultry, does not
appear to have been accurately investigated ; nor is it
clearly understood by many whether this branch of
cottage economy is advantagcous or disadvantageons,
owing chiefly to the absence of some useful rules by
which to conduct it according to a systematic and
uniform method, based on experience and information.
Attention has, however, been directed to the subject in
each of the three kingdoms, but information has not
been extensively conveyed to those for whom it is
especially useful, and the various opinions of different
writers have’ not been compared so as to deduce rules
of nundonbted utility. In directing notice to the snb-
ject, we can only treat if in a general manner, and
shall at present avoid details. The late Mr. Cobbett,
in his useful little work entitled ‘Cottage Economy,’
has expressed the following opinion on this matter :—
‘““Tt is, perhaps, seldom that fowls can be kept con-
veniently about a cottage; but, when they can, three,
four, or half-a-dozen hens, to lay in winter, when the
wife is at home the ereater part of the time, are worth
attention. ‘They would require but little room, might
be bought in November and sold in April, and six of
them, with proper care, might be made to clear, every
week, the price of a gallon of flour. Ifthe labour were
oreat, I should not think of it, but it is mone; and I am
for neglecting nothing in the way of pains in order to
insure a hot dinner, evéry day in winter, when the man
comes home from work. * * * Nothing lawfully within
our power ought to be neglected in order to insure
comfort at home; for without comfort there is 720 home.”
Martin Doyle, the cottage economist of Ireland, in his
‘Hints to Small Holders,’ has also devoted some atten-
tion to the subject. The following observations are
from the work just mentioned ON PF cocks and
hens, if they be prevented from scratching in the
oarden, are a useful and appropriate stock abont a
cottage, the warmth of which causes them to lay eggs
in winter—no trifling advantage to the children when
milk is scarce. ‘The French, who are extremely fond
of eggs, and contrive to have them in ereat abuiidance,
feed them so well on curds and buckwheat, and keep
them so warm, that they have plenty of eg@s, even in
winter. Now in our country, especially in a gen-
tleman’s fowl-yard, there is not an eve to be had’ in
cold weather; but the warmth of the poor man’s cabin
insures him an eee even in the most ungenial season.
You constantly want salt (and I hope soap) and can-
dies in winter; now a few éees taken to the hucksters,
procure you these most necessary articles in exchange.
* * * Wherever you are within reach of steam- boats
you may calculate on having a brisk demand for fat
poultry for the Enelish markets, if those at home should
not afford a sufficient price. Many a clever woman in
the barony of Forth earns smart sums by rearing: and
fattening fowl for the Wexford Market.” In Fes ldid,
that valuable association, the Highland Socicty,: has
given prizes to those cottagers who have been: most
successful in the rearing’ and management: of poultry:
and a prize has been offered for the best essay on the
means of improving the supply of ht Nose: for
rnarket-townis,
1837.]
In‘the counties bordering on the metropolis, particu-
larly in Surrey, Sussex, Essex, Cambridge, Norfolk,
Suffolk, and Berkshire, the rearing and fattening of
poultry for the London market is thonght worthy of
attention by considerable farmers. At Wokingham, in
Berkshire, the London dealers sometimes pay 15U1. to
the poultry feeders in that neighbourhood in a single
market-day. Reigute and Dorking are also large
poultry-markets. ‘he prices are sometimes very high.
fu 1827 young fowls were sold in London at 18s. a
couple; and from 6s. to 10s. is considered a moderate
price. ‘he sudden demand which arises durimg the
fashionable season in London will account for these
high prices. ‘Twenty dozen of the finest fowls are
sometimes required for a single gala; and if the price
were higher, the extravagance of fashion would per-
haps cause the demand to be greater, though ordi-
uarily an increased price at once diminishes the sale.
The present Earl Spencer, who has always warmly in-
terested himself in every species of rural and domestic
improvement, a few years ago instituted a ponltry show
at Chapel Brampton, in Northamptonshire. As it is
always desirable to have a standard in view, ratsed as
high as the most approved systein will carry it, we give
the weight of the fowls which gained the prizes adju-
dicated in 1829. The best turkey weighed 20 lbs.
4 oz.; capon 7 lbs. 14% 0z.; pullet 6 lbs. 33 o2z.;
goose 18 Ihs. 24 0z.; couple of ducks 15 lbs. 10 oz.
But perhaps the cottager may direct his attention
with more advantage to the production of eggs than to
the fattening of poultry. The Poland breed will be
found most valuable to him. Their colour is a shining
black, with white feathers on the topof the head. ‘They
are called ‘* everlasting layers,” and so seldom are
inclined to sit, that their eggs are often set under hens
of a different breed. Some very interesting experi-
ments on the production of eggs have recently been
made by Mr. Mouat, of Stoke, near Guildford. He
received three pullets of the Poland breed on the Ist
of December, 1835, which had been hatched in June
previous, and they commenced laying on the 15th of
December. ‘The number of eges which they laid be-
tween the Ist of December, 1835, and Ist December, |
1536, was 524 or 174 and 175 each, and only one of |
f vigilant eye, penetrating into every hamlet, and visit-
them showed a desire to sit. During the twelve months
they consuined 3 bushels of barley, 17 lbs. of rice, and
a small quantity of barley-meal and peas, the cost of
which amounted to 16s. 10d. ‘The number of eges
being 524, there were thirty-one eggs produced for
each shilling expended. Assuming the weight of each
eo'o to be 14 oz., there would be 41 Ibs. of food of the
most nutritious kind which it is possible to obtain at a
cost of less than 42d. per lb.; or if these eggs, instead
of being used for family consumption, had been sold
to the huckster, a profit would have accrued of at least
100 per cent.; for the trouble of attending to so small
a stock of poultry scarcely deserves attention. If the
barley had been purchased in a larger quantity it could
have been obtained at 4s. per bushel instead of 4s, 9d.,
and there would then have been thirty-six eggs for
each shilling expended.
- A large number of the eggs consumed in London
are broneht from France, chiefly from the department
of the Pas de Calais, which is opposite to the coasts of |
Kent and Sussex. A writer in a newspaper printed al
Arras, the capital of the department, recently made
strong complaints of the dearness of ege's in that part
of Frauce, and after remarking that the iinmense quan-
tity sent over to England was the cause of the high
price, he entered into the following calculations as to
the value of this branch of trade :—“ Out of 72,000,000
of eggs annually imported into England from France,
Germany, the Netherlands, aud other countries, France
contributes 55,000,000. Calculating the first cost at
THE PENNY MAGAZINE,
Mil
about 43d. per dozen, England pays annually :to
France for eggs about 77,0007, Suppose the freight,
the profit of the importer and retail dealer, the import
duties, the loss by breakage aud other damage, to in-
crease ihe price to about 1s. 3d. per dozen, the total
ainount paid by consumers of French eggs in England
will be no less than 192,000/.” The price of French
eggs in the shops in London is greatly exaggerated in
this statement, and the French writer has mis-stated
the total quantity imported, though he is perhaps cor-
rect as to the number imported from France. From
an official account just published, we perceive that the
Importation of eggs from all parts in the year ending
January 5th, 1837, was 69,000,000; and the duty of
Id. per dozen produced so large a sum as 24,048/.- In
1$20 the quantity of eggs imported was 31,000,000,
the duty being the same as at present, aud yielding a
revenue of 11,0772. In 1827 the importations were
nearly as great as during last year aud 1834, which
were the highest years of importation for eggs which
have yet occurred.
Lhese 69,000,000 of eggs cannot be obtained from
much fewer than 575,000 fowls, each producing 120 eges
on an average, all beyond this number being required
for domestic consnmption. Assuming the grounds of
this calculation to be correct, the 55,000,000 eggs sup-
plied by France are the production of 458,333 fowls,
each of which furnishes ten dozen egos, imported at a
duty of 10d., being a tax to that amount on each fowl.
Allowing twelve fowls to each fainily engaged in sup-
plying the demand for eges, the number of familieg
thus interested will be 39,861, representing a popula-
tion of 198,000. In the Pas de Calais there ean
scarcely be a larger proportion than two families out of
every five who are connected with the ege-trade 3 and
if this were ascertained to be the real proportion, the
population not directly engaged would be 457,000,
which, with the 198,0U0 mentioned before, would coimn-
prise a total population of 655,000, which is the popu-
lation of the department. The superficies of the de-
partment being 2624 square miles, it is equal in size
to the counties of Bedford, Berks, Buckingham, and
Hertford, put together. Over this extent of country
must those who are engaged in the egg-trade keep a
ine the lone houses which are scattered in this part of
France perhaps more numerously than in other depart-
ments. Some arrangements of a peculiar nature are
obviously required to facilitate the transactions of the
wholesale dealer, who probably resides at the port from
whence the eggs are shipped. The services of a subor-
dinate class of dealers are doubtless called into activity ;
and as it would be a waste of time for each of these to
visit every week, or at a stated period, every one of the
39,861 houses from whence they draw the quantity
required, other arrangements of a still more detailed
character are necessary in order to bring the article
within grasp. We are not acquainted with the precise
system adopted by the dealers in the Pas de Calais ;
whether, for instance, they can depend upon the supply
brought into the markets on stated days; but if this be
uot the case, then the circumstances being analogous
to those noticed by Mr. Weld, in his * Statistical Sur-
vey of the County Roscommon,’ something like tlie
practice which he describes may have grown up in
France as it has done in Ireland. Mr. Weld’s account,
which supplies some interestiug facts relative to tlle
trade of eggs in Ireland, is as follows :—
“The trade in eges, the value of which for export,
according to Mr. Williams, in 1832, amounted to 5002,
a-day, paid by England to Ireland, is carried on with
considerable vivacity at Lanesborongh, and also at Tar-
monbarry. The eggs are collected from the cottages
for several miles around by runners, commonly boys
112
from nine years old and upwards, each of whom has a
recular beat which he goes over daily, bearing back
the produce of his toil carefully stowed in a small hand-
basket. JI have frequently met with these boys‘on their
rounds; and the caution necessary for bringing in their
brittle ware with safety, seemed to have communicated
an air of business and steadiness to their manner un-
usual to the ordinary volatile habits of children in Ireland.
I recollect one little barefooted fellow explaining that he
travelled daily about twelve Irish miles (above fifteen
English miles); his allowance, or rather his gain, was Ls.
upon every six score of eggs brought in, the risk of
purchase and carriage resting entirely on himself. The
prices vary from time to time at different periods of the
year, but they are never changed without previous notice
to the runners. In the height of the season, the prices
at Lanesborough were from 2s. 6d. to 4s. per 120; but
towards the winter they rise to 5s. ‘The eges are
packed in layers with straw, in such crates as are com-
monly used for the conveyance of earthenware. LKach
crate will hold about eighty-four hundred of six score,
that is, 10,080, the first cost being from 10é. 10s. to
16/. 16s. per crate. ‘These are sent forward on specu-
lation to Dublin, or occasionally at once to the English
market; and a profit of 42, or 5d. per crate is consi-
dered a fair remuneration. Sometimes it is more and
sometimes it is less, and there is risk in the trade.
From Lanesborough the crates are sent overland to
Killashee, the nearest place on the line of the Royal
Canal, and forwarded by the fly trading-boats to Dub-
lin. At Tarmonbarry I saw several cars come in laden
with crates of eggs, from the neighbouring districts on
each side of the river. The dealers at Lanesborough,
with whom I conversed whilst in the act of packing
their crates, seemed quite surprised at my question,
Whether they ever used any artificial means of preserving
the eres,—and could scarcely credit the account I gave
them of the possibility of preserving their freshness for
a considerable time, by simply anointing them with any
unctuous substance, such as butter or Jard. Hut in this
process the whole of the ege must be carefully covered,
and it should be done soon after the ewg is laid.” ~
The Voyageurs.—The “ voyageurs” form a kind of con-
fraternity in the Canadas, like the arrieros, or carriers of
Spain, and, like them, are employed in long internal expe-
ditions of travel and traffic; with this difference, that the
arrieros travel by land, the voyageurs by water; the former
with mules and horses, the latter with batteaux and canoes.
The voyageurs may be said to have sprung up out of the
fur trade, having originally been employed by the early
French merchants in their trading expeditions through
the labyrinth of rivers and lakes of the boundless interior.
They were coeval with the coureurs des bows, or rangers
of the woods; and, like them, in the intervals of their long,
arduous, and laborious expeditions, were prone to pass
their time in idleness and revelry about the trading posts
or settlements, squandering their hard earnings in heed-
less conviviality, and rivalling their neighbours, the In-
dians, in indolent indulgence and an imprudent disregard
of the morrow. The dress of these people is generally half-
civilized, half-savage. They wear a capot, or surcoat, made
of a blanket, a striped cotton shirt, cloth trousers, or
leathern leggings, mocassins of deer-skin, and a belt of
variegated worsted, from which are suspended the knife,
tobacco- pouch, and other implements. Their language is
of the same piebald character, being a French patois, em-
broidered with Indian and English words and phrases.—
The lives of the voyageurs are passed in wild and extensive
rovings in the services of individuals, but more especially of
the fur traders. They are generally of French descent, and
inherit much of the gaiety and lightness of heart of their
ancestors, being full of anecdote and song, and ever ready
tor the dance. They inherit, too, a fund of civility and
complaisance; and, instead of that hardness and grossness
which men in laborious life are apt to indulge towards each
other, they are mutually obliging and accommodating,
interchanging kind offices, yielding each other assistance |
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
[Marcu 25, 1837.
and comfort in every emergency, and using the familiar
appellation of “ cousin” and “ brother,” when there is in
fact no relationship. Their natural good-will is probably
heightened by a community of adventure and hardship in
their precarious and wandering life. No men are more
submissive to their leaders and employers, more capable
of enduring hardships, or more good-humoured under pri-
vations. Never are they so happy as when they are on
long and rough expeditions, toiling up rivers, or coasting
lakes; encamping at night on the borders, gossiping round
their fires, and bivouacking in.the open air. They are
dexterous boatmen, vigorous and adroit with the oar and
paddle, and will row from morning until night without a
murmur. The steersman often sings an old traditionary
French song, with some regular burden in which they all
join, keeping time with their oars; if at any time they flag
in spirits or relax in exertion, it is but necessary to strike
up a song of the kind to put them all in fresh spirits and
activity. The Canadian waters are vocal with these little
Freuch chansons, that have been eclioed from mouth to
mouth, and transmitted from father to son, from the- earliest
days of the colony; and it has a pleasing effect in a still,
colden summer evening, to see a batteau gliding across the
bosom of a lake and dipping its oars to the cadence of these
quaint old ditties, or sweeping along, in full chorus, ina
bright sunny morning, down thie transparent current of one
of the Canadian rivers.—‘Astorva,’ by Washington Irving.
Female FEducation.—One of Daniel De Foe’s projects
was an academy for the education of women; on the evils
resulting from the want of it, he expressed his opinion in.
the following terms:—‘‘ A well-bred woman and well
taught, furnished with the additional accomplishments of
knowledge and behaviour, is a creature without comparison.
Her society is the emblem of sublimer enjoyments, her
person is angelic, and her conversation heavenly ;. she is all
softness and sweetness—peace, love, wit, and delight; she
is every way suitable to the sublimest wish; and the man
that has sucha ne to his portion has nothing to do but
rejoice in her and be thankful. On the other hand, suppose
licr to be the same woman, and deprived of the. benefit of
education, and it follows thus :—If,her temper be good, want
of education makes her soft and easy; her wit, for want of
teaching, renders her impertinent and talkative; her know-
ledge, for want of judgment and experience, makes her fan-
ciful and whimsical. Ifher temper be bad, want of breeding
makes her worse; and she grows haughty, insolent, and
loud. If she be passionate, want of manners makes her a
termagant and a scold. If she be proud, want of discre-
tion (which is ill-breeding) makes her conceited, fantastic,
and ridiculous, ’
A Lancashire Road in 1770.—In Arthur Young's ‘ Tour
in the North of England,’ published in 1770, we find the
following statement as to the condition of the turnpike-road
between Preston and Wigan, a spot which is now become a
centre for rail-way operations. This description of a turn-
pike-road exhibits an extraordinary contrast with the safety,
comfort, and celerity presented by the more modern im-
provement. ‘I know not in the whole range of language
terms sufliciently expressive to describe this infernal road.
To look over a map, and perceive that it 1s a principal one,
not only to some towns, but even whole counties, one would
naturally conclude it to be at least decent; but let me most
seriously caution all travellers who may accidentally purpose
to travel this terrible country to avoid it as they would the
devil, for a thousand to one but they break their necks or
their limbs by overthrows or breakings down. They will
here meet with ruts, which I actually measured, four feet
deep, and floating with mud only from a wet summer ;—
what, therefore, must it be after a winter? The only mend-
ing it in places receives, is the tumbling in some loose stones,
which serve no other purpose but jolting a carriage in the
most intolerable manner. These are not merely opinions,
but facts, for I actually passed three carts broken down in
these eighteen miles of execrable memory.’—‘* Companion
to the Almanac’ for 1837.
*.* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledye is at
59, Lincoln’s Inn Fields.
, LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT & CO., 22, LUDGATE STREET,
Printed by Witi1am Ciowes and,Sons, Stamford Street.
Monthly Supplenriweiuit of
THE PENNY MAGAZINE
OF THE
Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge.
Sebruary 28 to
Wiarch 31, 1837.
A LOOKING-GLASS FOR LONDON.—No. VIII.
EXTERNAL AND INTERNAL COMMUNICATION.
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[Fleet Street—Processio of Mail Coaches on the King’s Birth-day.]
One of the most, interesting chapters i in the history of
our civilization and progress’as a nation is afforded by
the various means of intercourse and communication in
use at different periods. - The-time is so recent when
roads were rone@h and perilous—when vehicles for, tra-
velling were climsy, unusual, and expensive affairs,—
when a journey any little, Hite Deo. from home was a
serious and important event ,—that in looking back
at what ‘our erandfathers endured, - -and comparing: it
with what we now enjoy, we cannot but wonder at the |
rapidity and completeness of the alteration. Scott’s
picture of the journey of Jeanie Deanis, on foot, from
Edinburgh’ to’ London,‘in’ the reign -of George id
eives us an idea of what was then ‘the actual state a
thines. He exhibits his single- minded and resolute
heroine pursuing’ her way from one county. to. another
as if she were passing through different and distinct
ations,—her “person ‘and appeatante ‘occasfonally a
lesion or a laughing-stock, and, he adds, with genuine
Scotch feeling, her dialect at times mocked in dialects
infinitely more ‘barbarous.
We have already ¢ eiven in the ‘ Penny Manette” *
* In Volume the Third there are some statements respecting
the number of inns two centuries ago in London—the history of
Vou. VI,
%
various particulars respecting the state of tileeedlions and :
communication in England at» former periods. - We
need: not; therefore, at present, go over similar ground. °
But, without looking farther back than the beginning.
of thie’ nineteenth century, it may be remarked, that the
thirty-six years that have elapsed present us with some :
striking contrasts. Who now shrinks. from travelling ;
in a Stawe- coach by night; from the fear of: its being
| stopped and robbed. on the highway? ; In 1811, it.was,
stated before a committee of the, House ie COmmatiee
that the only: coaches which were then considered -safe -
to travel in by night were’ the mails; the, well-armed-
euard being reearded as a protection. Cabriolets and:
ott iSes, “those: useful vehicles: that now. throng our.
streets, seem; from their numbers, as if they, had been |
I use fora ‘Tong. _period—a century at least... Yet the:
cabriolets were only introduced in’ 1820, the omnibuses .
in’ 1830.': In that short interval. they. have assisted ‘in;
Lente oreat t chang es. hae have contributed poten,
a) is } ,
e4#ee
and history of our present mail- oo
a variety of particulars are introduced, illustrative of travelling in
England in the seventeenth century.
Q
114
fully to advance the expansion of the metropolis into
the ‘surrounding country. So far from the merchants
of the “city” living over their counting-rooms or ware-
houses, their clerks can afford to go out of the smoke of
London, and yet their business is attended as promptly
as if they resided on the spot. There is an old reputed
prophecy which speaks about certain evils that shall
befal the realm of England when Highgate stands in
the heart of London. ‘The period when this will be
fulfilled seems remote enough—-yet we are making
advances towards it. ‘ Merry Islington” is a populous
and rapidly increasing constituent of the metropolis ;
Hampstead is drawing nearer every day. What further
changes will be effected when railroads have knit
towether the extremities of the empire, and steam-
coaches are in active operation, we need not conjec-
ture
One of the most pleasing of the outside shows of Lon-
don is that of the daily departure of the MAIL-COACHES.
They start every night, at eight o'clock, from the Post
Office, except on Sunday evenings, when they go off
an hour earlier. A few of the mail-coaches, which
start from the “‘ west end” of Fondon, do not come up
to the Post Office, the muils being conveyed to them
in inail-carts. All tlfe rest arrive, a short time before
the hour of starting, from their respective inns—the
Blossoms, Lawrence Lane; the Swan with Two Necks,
Lad Lane; the Spread Eagle, Gracechurch Street ; the
Belle Sauvage, Ludgate Hill, &c. &c. Most of the
names of these inns are ancient, and carry with them
interesting associations—-we shall have another oppor-
tunity of speaking of them.
The yard round the Post Office, from which the mail- .
coaches start, is separated from the street by an open iron
railing, through which the spectators can see the pro-
cess of packing the mail-bags. Each mail-coach takes
the mail-bags of the various towus and places on its
route, and also the mails for places in the neighbour-
hood of the route, from whence they are conveyed by
cross mails. When eight o'clock has arrived, they
all prepare to start; the guards secure their valuable
packages, the. coachmen seize the reins, and, one by
one, the mails set off, issuing by the gates on either
side of the Post Office. There is no confusion or irre-
wular bustle, yet there is no delay; in a few minutes
they all disappear, and the twanging of the horns is
lost in the noise of the streets—before midnight the
total number started have run, in the aggregate, up-
wards of 1000 miles.
The daily regularity of this proceeding is one of the
triumphs of modern civilization. The inhabitants of
the remote Orkneys or Shetlands can calculate on re-
ceiving the news of this great metropolis (and all that
it has gathered during the day from every quarter of
the world,) in littl more than a hundred hours ;—the
Hiehlander, whose country a century ago was nearly as
much a “land unknown” as is now the interior of
Africa or Australia, obtains ample intelligence in as
many days as it once took weeks, or even months, for
vague rumours to reach the Border. But notwith-
standing the highly improved state of our present mail-
system, the increase of the population, and of trade, and
commerce demand additional facilities of communica-
tion. ‘The.Commissioners of Post Office Inquiry have
recently recommended the establishment of day mails ;
and it is very probable that this improvement, which
has been much called for, will be adopted shortly. ‘T’o
which, it is to be hoped, will be added a large reduction
in the rates of postage.
The following table gives a view of the principal
places on the great thoroughfares to which the mails |
are despatehed daily :—
MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF
[Marcu 31,
MAIL-COACH .ROUTES.
Length of “No. of Hour:
Mail Route in which the
r in Miles. Mail Travels.
H, M.
Dover, with the continental Mails . . 73 . . 8 57
Hastings e e ° ° e e e @ ® 67 e > 8 37
Brighton . 2. « © « © © © © Sd 4 « 7 26
Portsmouth . « e «ee ee tnnnnnntgnts
Southampton e ° © ° ° @ e rs 80 e ° 8 30
and
Poole e ‘ ® e ° ri e ry ° r) 116 @ ri 13 18
Devonport (Plymouth), through Bath and
Exeter e ® e ® e e e @ @ 243 ce) ® 26 5
FaLmoutTu, with foreign and olonial
Mails, through Exeter and Devonport. 279 . . 29 5
Exeter, throngh Salisbury .« « « + 173 . + 1812
Pembroke, through Brisron and Car-
marthen e e ® ° ® ® e @ @ 278 ® ef 29 )
Carmarthen, through Oxford, Chelten-
ham, Gloucester,&c. . ». « «© « 224 6 ~ 24 0
Ludlow ° e e e r) e e @ ) 146 e e 16 24
and
Worcester. 2 «© © «© «© «© « © 115 «6 « 12 20
Stroud, through Abingdon, Cirencester,&c. 105 . . Il 47
Hozyueap (with the Irish Mails) . . 261 «. . 26 55
through
CovENTRY @ ° @ o @ ce) @ ° 92 @ @ g 18
BrrminamaMm . ». © e« » © #0 re
SHREWSBURY « «© « e © « © S0a0 5 ag ae ow
Birmingham . « « «© « © «© @ Him @u@ ll 56
and
Stourport . . «© 2» =» «© » © een no
Chester @ ° ° ® e ¢ e ° e 199 e e 20 16
and
Liverpool Fy ° ° e r ° e P) r) 206 e e 22 23
Liverpool e ° Ps ° ) a e e ° 203 a ® 20) 50
through
Lichfield . e@ : . e ¢@ 119 . 12 2
Portpatrick ° e ® oe e ° e e 424 e ° 48 8
through
MANCHESTER « » « -s «8 «© « Sen @ »- wo O
Leeds, through Nottingham, Sheffield,&e. 197 . . 20 52
Halifax, through Leicester, Nottingham,
Chesterfield, Sheffield, and Hudders- :
fiel Oo «—cme> als oa —— » 25
Wells (on the Norfolk coast), through
Cambridge and Lynn . . «© | - i338. . «° M43
Hull, through Peterborough and Lincoln 177 . . 18 40
Louth, through Boston. . « «© +» 148 . « 19 56
Norwich ° ° ° ® e e r) ° @ 113 @ o 1} 35
through
Ipswich ° e e e e ° e ol @ 70 e e 7 12
Norwich, through Newmarket, Bury St.
Ednaunds, &c. «4 + « se op «© pe ee
Yarmouth, through Ipswich» « »« « 124 . . 13 30
Glasgow @ rs e e e rs @ ® @ 396 € ° 42 0
through
Carlisle ° e ° ° e — e @ e 302 ‘a 32 liv’
The Edinburgh mail carries a large portion of the Scotch mails.
It runs through Doncaster and York, through Durham and
Newcastle-upon-Tyne, and through a number of border towns.
such as Morpeth, Alnwick, Berwick, and Dunbar. The Scotch
mails carried are Perth, Dundee, Montrose, Aberdeen, Ely:n.
Inverness, &c., on to Wick, 762 miles; then crossing the
narrow peninsula of Caithness, to Thurso, 783 miles, which is
run in about 96 hours.
1837.]
The following table is taken from a pamphlet, just
published, by Rowland Hill, Esq., on ‘ Post Office
Reform ;—its Importance and Practicability :’—
Estimate of the cost of conveying a Letter from London
to Edinburgh, a distance of 400 mites.
MiLEAGE ON THE WHOLE Mai. Le oe @.
From London to York, 196 miles, at 1lfd. per
mile @ e ° e 6 ® ° 6 e ° ° 4) 64.
From York to Edinburgh, 204 miles, at 14d. per
ee Se
210 6}
Guarns’ Waczs.—Say Six Guards, one day each,
at 10s. 6d. per week . . «© «© + « « O10 6
Allow for Tolls (which are paid in Scotland,) and
all other expenses* . . «© «© « ~ « 1 18 11%
Total cost of conveying the Mail once from Lon-
don to Edinburgh, including the Mails of
all intermediate places . . - » « « 9 O O
The average weight of the mail conveyed by the
London and Edinburgh mail-coach is about 8 cwt.
Deduct for the weight of the bags, say . . - 9».
Average weight of letters, newspapers, &c. . . 6
The cost of conveyance is therefore percwt.. . 16s. 8d.
Per ounce and a half, the average weight of a newspaper,
about one-sixth of a penny.
Per quarter of an ounce, the average weight of a single letter,
about one thirty-sixth of a penny.
“Tf any doubt is entertained of the accuracy of this
result it may be tested thus :—Suppose 1000 letters to
be made up into a parcel and dispatched from London
to Edinburgh by coach: at the estimate above given,
the weight of the. parcel would be about 16lbs., and the
charge for its carriage about 2s. 4$d.; a rate of charge
which, upon a contract for nearly half a ton per day,
will furnish an adequate remuneration to the coach-
master. It appears, then, that the cost of mere transit
incurred upon a letter sent from London to Edinburgh,
a distance of 400 miles, is not more than one thirty-
sixth part of a penny.”
The fastest coaches now travelling are between—
London and Shrewsbury . . 154 miles in 15% hours.
3 Exeter aa 171 ,, in about 17 hours,
3 Manchester Wey, ‘ 18 hours.
London and Manchester (mail) 187 ,, © 19h. Om.
by Holyhead (mail) 261 ,, 26 55
99 Liverpool (mail) 203 , 20 50
The Edinburgh, the Leeds, and the Devonport or Ply-
mouth mails are also very rapid.
There are fifty-four four-horse mails in England,
and forty-nine pair-horse mails. The greatest speed
travelled is ten miles five furlongs per hour; the slowest
speed six miles; and the average speed eight miles
seven furlongs per hour. The average mileage paid
for four-horse mails is 14d. per mile. The number of
four-horse mails in Ireland is thirty, and in Scotland
ten.
There is an annual procession of mail-coaches on the
Kine’s Birthday, both in London and in Dublin. Von
Raumer, in ‘ Letters from England,’ speaking of the
London procession, says, ‘‘ Such a splendid display of
* “Tn strict fairness the English tolls ought perhaps to be jn-
cluded, as the exemption may be considered part of the price paid
by the public for the conveyance of the mail. On the other hand,
at least part of the coach duty, which for the mails is twopence
for every mile travelled, should be deducted from the estimate.
Sir Hevry Parnell is of opinion that exemption from this duty
would, under good management, be a compensation in full to
the coach proprietors for the conveyance of the mai. He says:
‘Without going into particulars, and attempting to prove what 1s
the rmght gourse that ought to be taken, I should say generally,
that there would be no difficulty, with a proper plan of manage-
ment, to have the mail-coaches horsed by allowing the stamp duty
only—without an exemption from paying tolls—that is dd. a
{ double ] mile—provided that the proprietors were allowed to carry
an additional outside passenver, which would be equal to 3/., and
that coaches of the best possible construction were used. ?—
Seventh Report of Commissioners of Post Office Inquiry, p. 98.
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
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115
carriages and four as these mail-coaches and _ their
horses afforded could not be found or got together in
all Berlin. It was a real pleasure to see them in all
the pride and strengti: which, in an hour or two later,
was to send them in every direction with incredible
rapidity to every corner of England.”
The following statements respecting the expenses of
running stage-coaches are taken from the ‘ Penny
Cyclopedia,’ article Coacn, in Vol. VII. :—
“The stage-coaches usually belong to a coachmaker,
who contracts with the speculators who ‘ work’ them
for the supply of new carriages at certain intervals, and
is liable to the expense of all repairs: for this he re-
ceives 24d. or 3d. for every mile they travel. There is
a duty per mile according to the number of passengers
to be carried, rising from 1d. a mile for 4 persons to 4d.
a mile for 21. For each coachman a duty of Il. 5s. is
annually paid, and for each guard, excepting those of
mails. ‘The expense of horsing a four-horse coach run-
ning at the speed of from nine to ten miles an hour,
may he stated at 3/. a double mile for 28 days (a lunar
month) ; so that a person horsing ten miles of .a coach
passing backwards and forwards each day, should earn
or receive by way of remuneration 13 times 301., or
390/, a-year for his work. ‘This may be considered a
high rather than a low estimate, unless in a district
where wages and rent of stables are high, and hay and
corn dear. In a cheap neighbourhood, or where a
large number of horses are kept, the expense will not be
so great. Nevertheless, a great many articles are to
be. provided: harness, which for four horses costs from
16/. to 20l.: horses, of which, for ten miles of ground,
at least eight in summer and nine in winter will be re-
quired ; their price will be from 5/. to 20/. each: corn
and beans, of which each horse will eat little less than
two bushels a week, together with hay and straw cut
into chaff. Straw, shoeing, physic, and farriery, must
also be reckoned, as well as stabling, stable utensils,
and horsekeepers’ wages, which for each man are from
12s. to 15s. a week. ‘The firm must also defray the
wages of coachmen, who receive about 10s. a week,
unless they drive backwards and forwards, and take
fees from two sets of passengers each day, when they
get no wages. ‘The charge for washing the coaches
must also be reckoned. ‘To this long list must be
added the heavy item of turnpikes. Mails are exempt
from turnpike tolls, but a tax is paid for them to the
eovernment, and inileage to the contractor for the use
of the coach.”
The Post Office allows the mail-coach contractors
from 4d. to 6d a mile for conveying the letters, accord-
ing to the speed of the coaches, andthe conntry through
which they travel. In return for this, the contractors
must submit to the Post Office regulations, as to num-
ber of passengers, time of starting, speed, &c. The
guard of each mail is the servaut of the Post Office.
The limits of the Twopenny or rather the Threepenny
Post would appear to be a natural division between
long and short stages, or journeys and trips. But this
would throw into the class of journeys, or long stages,
several places, such as Uxbridge, about 17 miles, Hamp-
ton, about 16, and even Windsor, about 22, to which
places there is a constant resort for pleasure or business.
If we take, therefore, a wider range, we sltall find that
there are about 600 SraGE-coacHEs, licensed to run
between London and places more than 20 miles distant.
The mails are licensed to carry six, seven, cr eight pas-
sengers each; the stage-coaches generally from twelve
to fifteen. If we assien them, on an average, only seven
passengers each, it will give more than 4000 individuals
entering and leaving London daily by means of these
long stages.
To prevent misunderstanding, it must be borne in
mind ikat the number of coaches licensed te run any
Q 2
116 MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF
u
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permanently. Each coach pays a yearly license; but
the mileage duty is only exacted for the actual number
of miles run. In summer there are always more coaches
running than in winter; and it is probably a rare oc-
currence that all the coaches which are licensed on a
yvreat thoroughfare are actually running to and fro at the
o
same time as permanent stage coaches; still, if we allow
=]
only 400 out of the 600 as running permanently, andl
assion to this 400 an average of nine passengers for
each journey, it will give 3600 as the number entering
and leaving London daily by these stage coaches.
The immense traffic and intercourse between London
and the suburban districts within the limits of the Three-
penny Post (about twelve miles round St. Paul’s) is an
interesting object of contemplation. In the mornings,
from the hour of eight to ten, the various short stages
and omnibuses are pouring in, bearing with them the
inerchant to his business, the clerk to his bank or
counting-house, the subordinate official functionaries
to the Post Office, Somerset House, the Excise, or the
Mint, the Custom House, or Whitehall. An immense
number of individuals, whose incomes vary from 1501.
to 400/. or 600/., and whose business does not require
their presence till nine or ten in the mornings, and who
can leave it at five or six in the evening's; persons with
limited independent means of living, such as legacies or
life-rents, or small amounts of property; literary in-
dividuals; merchants and traders, small and great;
all, in fact, who can, now endeavour to live some little
distance from London. ‘This feeling is extending it-
self rapidly, as omNiBUSES multiply. Even those who
cannot afford, or grudge the daily snm of one or two
shillings for conveyance out and in, according to the
distance, endeavour to accommodate the matter—they
walk in fine weather, and calculate on the omnibuses
for the foul. Thus from Stepney and Mile-end on the
east—from Camberwell, and Peckham, and Walworth,
and Brixton, on the south—from Chelsea, and Bromp-
ton, and Hampstead and Highgate, on the west .and
north-west—from Hackney, and Clapton, and Homer-
ton, on the north and north-east, and the many streets
[Marcu 31,
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and terraces, and rows, that are springing up all around,
and beginning to join hand to hand to gird the me-
tropolis,—there is a constant and incessant in-pouring
and out-pouring. Then the great lines of strects—ihose
which, coming down from the east end of the city,
from the East India House, the Bank, and the Royal
Exchange, lead to the west end, through Cheapside,
Ludegate Hill, Fleet Street, and the Strand, to Charing
Cross, and up the Haymarket to Regent Street and
Piccadilly, or striking from Cheapside down Neweate
Street, through Holborn and Oxford Street—are con-
stantly crowded with ommibuses passing to and _ fro.
The worst defect of many of the omnibuses is their
alternate rapid driving and halting. The driver and he
who hangs behind,—who opens the door and receives the
money, and whose name, borrowing from the French,
is “ conductor,” or, in the vulear tongue, “‘ cad,’—are
not satisfied with having had their long box packed
full of passengers at the first starting. The original
occupants may nearly all leave the vehicle on its route,
their business calling them out at different points. But
driver and conductor are seldom disposed to move
rapidly on with a half-empty omnibus. ‘The one holds
up his whip significantly, the other scans the pavement
on either side, to see if he can detect among the pas-
sengers any willing to fill the vacant places in his
machine. ‘The person who entered at the Bank to go
to Piccadilly or Oxford Street may thus be considerably
delayed. This evil is somewhat remedied through the
competition between the increasing and rival vehicles ;
and it would donbtless be more to the advantage, both
of proprietors and the public, if the omnibuses were all
to select certain fixed points, at particular places in the
streets, between which they would run without halting,
—starting from them successively at short intervals.
The road from Paddington to the Bank is tolerably
well regulated in this respect, there being time-keepers
appointed by the proprietors, who make the omnibnses
move on: the time allowed, though not always strictly
kept, is three minutes. There are time-keepers at
various Other omnibus stations,—but an improvement
would be beneficial to all parties,
s
1837.)
Within the limits of the Threepenny Post, there are
about 850 short stages and.omnibuses plying, some
making two to six journeys daily, but the majority
eleht, ten, and twelve. If we allow them, on an aver-
age, eight journeys each, it will give 6800 journeys
daily; if on each journey they carry ten passengers
(which is surely a moderate average), it will produce
68,090 persons availing themselves of these conve-
niences. every day; the fares are, for all short dhis-
tances, 6d., but in other cases ls., ls. 6d., and 2s. when
to Richmond, &c.- If these 68,000 individuals pay, on
an average, 9d. each, it will give 2550/. per day, which to
each short stage and omnibus is exactly 3/. a day. This
sum shows an expenditure of about three-quarters of a
million annually upon this new mode of conveyance.
Bishopsgate Street, in the city, is a well-known
gathering place for SHort Stace Coacnes, In Grace-
church Street, also, which is a continnation of Bishops-
eate Street, there are stands from whence sixty-four
stage-coaches and eleven omnibuses ply, chiefly to
places on the south side of London, in Surrey, such as
Camberwell and Clapham, Dulwich, Peckham, Nor-
wood, Mitcham, &c., and to Deptford, Greenwich,
Blackheath,. Lewishain, &c., in Kent. Bishopsgate
Street and Gracechurch Street intersect: Cornhill and |
Leadenhall Street. The whole neighbourhood is lite-
rally swarming with stage-coaches and omnibuses, start-
ing at all honrs of the day to every quarter of London
and its neighbourhood. ‘The omnibuses have, in some
measure, superseded the stage-coaches. We borrowed
the idea of the omnibus from the French,—though at
least -fifty years ago an advertisement appeared in a
London paper, announcing the intended starting of a
new-constructed vehicle, which was to carry passengers,
in a way not unlike the omnibus, at a fare of sixpence
each. It does not appear that the project was ever
carried out. ‘There were numbers of omnibuses plying
in the streets of Paris in 1829; and in 1830 they made
their first appearance in London. They were tried on
the New Road, from Paddington to the Bank, but
soon spread to all the great thoroughfares.
Some vigorous efforts have been made to establish a
steam-carriage on the road from Paddington to the
Bank, but hitherto withont success, for the attempts
have not been persevered in. Last year a steam-car-
riage was run for a considerable time on the Stratford,
Islington, and Paddington roads. It was at once start-
ling and amusing to see the ponderous inachine wheeling
along, as if by magic, carrying from fifteen to twenty
persons (the last-started steam-carriage had seats for
twenty-two), and travelling at the rate of from eight to
ten miles an hour. From whatever cause, the experi-
ment was abandoned.
Von Raumer, speaking of the omnibuses of London,
says, “In the great omnibuses six or seven persons sit
sideways, opposite to each other, and the entrance 1s
from behind. They have names of all sorts, from
‘Emperor,’ ‘ Nelson,’ and such lofty titles to the names
of the proprietors or of animals. Every ride, long or
short, costs sixpence, or five silver groschen. ‘The car-
riawes are, however, much longer than those in Berlin,
and the profits much greater. It is to be hoped they
will soon be imitated among us.”
In the following statements it is important to remark
that the number of short stages and omnibuses which
are mentioned do not always and daily run. ‘There
may be more one day than another. But as all are
licensed for the particular routes mentioned, there can
be no question but the proprietors run them as often as
they see opportunity. On the road from Paddington
to the Bank and Royal Exchange (a great thoroughfare,
which, passing by Islington, connects the west end of
London with the city), there are at present fifty-four
omnibuses licensed to run, The distance is reckoned
THE PENNY MAGAZINE
117
at four miles and a half, the number of passengers
allowed to each vehicle is fifteen, and the number of
journeys made in a day ten and twelve. The fare is
sixpence each, but it is the same whether the passenger
travels all the way or only a part of it. As each om-
nibus stops a few minutes at Islington, there is always
a change, more or less, of passengers. ‘The omnibuses
will thus sometimes have thirty passengers each on a
journey, instead of fifteen. If the fifty-four on this line
of road make ten journeys a day, and take each journey
eishteen passengers, they will carry 9720 individuals,
and earn in sixpences 243/., about 4/. 10s. each.
In order to enable the reader who may not have
visited London to understand the direction of the routes
which are occupied by the short stages and omnibuses
plying in the neighbourhood of the metropolis, and
through its streets, let us take the following method -of
explanation. The Thaines flows from west to east.
In passing through, or rather by, London, its course
is somewhat circuitous. The Surrey side of London, or
the south side of the Thames, is very populous—the
parliamentary boroughs of Southwark and’ Lambeth
containing upwards of 300,000 inhabitants. But it is
chiefly on the north or Middlesex side of the Thames
that the wealth, fashion, and business of London lie.
The Thames, in coming down from the west, makes a
ereat sweep from south to north, forming a bend, in
which is contained the Houses of Parliament, and the
vovernment edifices of Whitehall, as described in the
last Supplement. From Charing Cross eastwards the
river keeps a rather straight course, so that the Strand
and Fleet Street, which run parallel to it, may be
represented (not literally but comparatively) by a
straight line. Keeping this in imind, let ns take the
following diagram for illustration :—
NORTH.
Tas ANGEL INx; Istinetonr.
WEST END
CITY END
THE ELEPHANT AND CastLE INN,
SOUTH.
Supposing the cross line to represent the thorough-
fare running’ from the west end by Charing Cross,
through the Strand, Fleet Street, Ludgate Hill, and
Cheapside, to the Bank, Royal Exchange, and Mansion
House, let us direct our attention to the north and
south points. 'The mail and stage-coaches going by
the north roads generally call at the Angel Inn and
the Peacock Tavern, which are close to each other, in
Islington ; and those going south call at the Elephant
and Castle Inn, in Newington. These two northern and
southern points, therefore, are great gathering places
and stations for short stages and omnibuses. Between
the Angel Inn at Islington and the Elephant and
Castle Inn there are seventeen omnibuses plying.
These vehicles start from Islington, taking generally a
supply of passengers for the city, there being but few
who require to go the whole way to the Elephant and
Castle. There are two roads, meeting at a point at
118
the Angel, which lead into the city—one called the
City Road, which leads direct to the Bank and Royal
Exchange; the other termed the Goswell Street Road,
which keeps a little more south than the City Road,
and leads into St. Martin’s-le-Grand, past the General
Post Office. This road the omnibuses take which ply
between the Angel Inn and the Elephant and Castle
Inn. A number of passengers generally leave the
vehicles at the Post Office; they then, passing down
Newgate Street run through Farringdon Street, past
‘the front of the Fleet Prison, and across the Thames
by Blackfriars Bridge. ‘The length of this route is
about three miles. In addition to the omnibuses plying
between the Angel Inn and the Elephant and Castle
Inn, there are three plying between the latter and
Charing Cross, at the west end.
Here, on this south side of the river ‘Thames, are a
oreat number of districts aud villages which, a few
years ago, presented fields and lanes between them ;
but which are now, by the filling up of their interstices,
beginning to lose all appearance of country. Along
the banks of the river, in Southwark and Lambeth,
are the tanners, and dyers, and hatters, and hop mer-
chants, colourmen, and druggists, with their factories
and warehouses: farther south lie Camberwell and
Walworth, Newington and Kennington, Peckham and
Brixton. At the Elephant and Castle Inn vehicles
presenting different shapes and varieties may be found
—the long close omnibus; the fly, a gig-like thing
hung round with curtains; the stage, that once, per-
haps, run lone journeys, now condemned to short—all
awaiting the pleasure of the holiday-maker, or the will
of the man on business. Some are for Norwood, with
its Spa and its gipsy parties; others for Dulwich and
its picture gallery; or Streatham, where resided the
hospitable brewer and lis literary lady, whose house was
so long a home to Dr. Johnson. Here, too, but more
south-west, are Putney, and Kew, and Richmond; and
south-east, in Kent, Deptford, and Greenwich, and
Lewisham, and Blackheath.
The Angel Inn at Islington presents a busy scene.
A road, called the New Road, comes up from the West
ind, and just where this inn stands, joins the City
Road. Here, between the West End and the Bank,
ply fifty-four omnibuses. Through Islington, too, pass
a great number of vehicles, to Holloway, Highbury,
Hornsey, &c. Hornsey Wood, a favourite spot for
excursions, 1S supposed to preserve in its name a relic
of the great forest which once stood on the north side
of London, and which abounded with bears, wolves,
and wild boars. Away, north-west, rise the high
grounds of Hampstead and Higheate, much resorted
to by those who seek to escape from the fogs of Lon-
don toa purer air. The country in this direction is
dotted over with villas and villages, and affords some
delightful views. Indeed the environs of London are,
speaking generally, admirable. ‘That weeping atmo-
sphere which in winter keeps the city in darkness, and
the pavement perpetually moist and miry, imparts in
summer a green and refreshing verdure to all the fields
around the metropolis, And thus the pent-up citizen,
whose business or means will not permit him to visit
the brown plains of Frauce, need not fret himself for
_ that. He can take an omnibus to Hampstead, and for
a shilling, with ease to himself and profit to his carrier,
look down from Hampstead Heath on one of the finest
prospects to be had in the neighbourhood of any capital
city.
The populous villages of Hackney, Homerton, Clap-
ton, Edmonton, immortalized by the adventures of
John Gilpin, Enfield, celebrated in former days for its
chase, (a large tract of woodland, which was well
stocked with deer, but has been disforested,) and farther
off Epping and Henhault forests, which together cover:
MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF
[Mancu 31,
about 10,000 acres, and contain some fine trees, lie on
tle north and north-east of London.
At the city end of London, in Bishopsgate Street
and Gracechurch Street, in Cornhill and Leadenhall
Street, from the Bank and Royal Exchange, are to be
found vehicles running to the various places we have
named. It has been stated on good authority that
about 1600 trips or Journeys are made every day through
Cheapside by short stages, omnibuses, hackney-coaches,
and cabriolets. |
Let us now pass from the east end to the west, by
one of the two great thoroughfares which branch off
at St. Paul’s, from the bottom of Cheapside—either
down Ludgate Hill, by Fleet Street and the Strand, to
Charing Cross and Pall Mall, or down Newgate Street,
by Holborn and Oxford Street, to the upper end of
Hyde Park. Piccadilly is a gathering place for om-
nibuses and short stages, and from it start the mails
and stages that run the western roads. ‘The villages
and places that lie beyond this, from the banks of the
Thames, northwards, are Chelsea, Brompton, Fulham,
Hammersmith, Chiswick, &c.
To Blackheath, from Charing Cross, which is reckoned
between seven and eight miles, (that is, the leneth of
the route which the vehicles are licensed to run,) and
from Gracechurch Street, which is between six and
seven, there are fourteen vehicles plying.
From Piccadilly to Blackwall, reckoned about six
miles and a half, and from the Royal Exchange about
four miles, there are forty-one vehicles.
From Chelsea to Leadenhall Street, five miles and a
half, and to Mile-end Gate, six miles and a half, there
are twenty-seven vehicles.
From the Bank to the Edgeware Road at the West
Kud, between four and five miles, there are fifty-three
vehicles,
To Hampstead, from Charing Cross, the Bank,
and Holborn, the distance varying from four to be-
tween five and six miles, there are nineteen vehicles.
From the Bank to Pineapple Gate, at the West
Eind, (the greater part of the route being the same as
the Paddington Road, and the licensed distance which
thie omnibusés run the same,) four miles and a half,
there are twenty-five vehicles. The number on the
Paddington Road has been mentioned already.
Such is a specimen of the way in which the om-
nibuses and short stages now occupy the great thorough-
fares of the metropolis. At all hours of the day they
are perpetually passing to and fro; the street resounds
with the announcements of the conductors, ealline out
‘Charing Cross!” ° Piccadilly!” “ Oxford Street!” -
or the ** Bank!” according to the direction in which
they are moving. A great enjoyment and convenience
they are, undoubtedly ; and if they were a little better
reoulated in their movements, if the characters of
drivers and conductors were raised a little higher
(efforts are making towards this), and less cause of
complaint given by furious driving, or by uncivil con-
duct, or by attempts at imposition, they would form one
of the most satisfactory of our social improvements
which have been introduced in modern times. And
even comparing the conduct of conductors and drivers
with what was the conduct of stage and hackney-
coachmen some twenty or thirty years ago, it cannot
be said that the former are very far behind their age.
The duties on stage-coaches, under which head om-
nibuses are included, are collected under the 2 and 3
Wm. IV., c. 120, and 3and 4 Win. [V., c. 48. By these
acts, every stage carriage is required to be licensed,
either at the Stamp Office, or by a distributor of stamps,
before itis used. Every original licence is charged with
a duty of 5/. Every supplementary licence with a duty
of Is.
Every stage carriage is also chargeabie with a mileage
1837.]
duty, according to the number of passengers carried,
V1Z.—
} Duty per Mile.
If such carriage shall be licensed to carry d.
not more than 4 passengers. : l
More than 4 and not more than 6 ; 14
6 =. 2
= 9 @ e s e e 12 s 8 24
a 12 Py e ri s e 15 s ry 3
; od } i) & s @ e ] 8 ° a 34
Spe. OP Ae) ee 4
And for every three additional passengers an
additional duty of . . . .. « « -« 04
Coaches let for hire were first established in England
in 1625. They did not stand in the streets, but at the
principal inns. In 1637—two centuries ago—there
were, in London and Westminster, fifty HACKNEY-
coacnes. Hackney-coach-stands originated in 1634.
Ina letter, dated April Ist, 1634, in the first volume of
Strafford’s ‘Letters and Dispatches,’ it is said:—‘“I
cannot omit to mention any new thing that comes up
amoug us, tho’ never so trivial. Here is one Captain
Baily, he hath been a.sea captain, but now lives upon
the land, about this city, where he tries experiments.
He hath erected, according to his ability, some four
hackney-coaches, put his men in a livery, and appointed
them to stand. at, the May-Pole, in the Strand, giving
them instructions at what rates to carry men into
several parts of the town, where all day they may he
had. Other hackney-men, seeing this way, they flock
to the same place, and perform their journeys at the
same rate; so that sometimes there is twenty of them
together, which disperse up and down, that they and
others are to be had everywhere, as watermen are to be
had by the waterside. Everybody is much pleased with
it, for, whereas before, coaches could not be had but at
great rates, now a man may have one much cheaper.”
Hackney-coaches and sedan-chairs were, until the
beginning of the present century, the only public vehi-
cles in use in the streets of London. The sedan-chair
has almost entirely disappeared. ‘“‘ In the time of
Hogarth it was considered as a courtly vehicle, and in
one of his plates of the ‘Modern Rake’s Progress,’ we
see his man of fashion using it to go to St. James's.
It continued to be used at a much later period, and
does not appear to have been generally laid aside until
the beginning of the present century. About five-and-
twenty years ago a sedan was very commonly seen in the
hall or lobby of gentlemen's houses, no longer used,
but laid Jike a ship in ordinary.
“It is still used rather extensively in Edinburgh,
where the chairmen are all Highlanders born, and a
very curious and humorous body. It 1s pretty com-
monly seen in the streets of Bath, and not unfrequently
in those of Cheltenham, Brighton, and our other water-
ing places. In Brighton, however, it is being super-
seded by a vehicle called a ‘ Fly-by-night, which is
made in the body like a sedan-chair; but goes upon
wheels, and is dragged by one or two men™*.”
Sedan-chairs were introduced by Charles I. on his
return from his visit to Spain. When the Duke of
Buckingham, who received two of the three sedan-
chairs which Charles brought from Spain, used thein
in London, a great clamour was raised against him by
the populace, that he was reducing free-born English-
men and Christians to the offices and condition of
beasts of burden.
A life of Jonathan Wild+t lets us know that many of
the expert thieves in his employment used to dress
themselves as chairmen. ‘‘ A couple of them meeting
together, stole the young Duchess of Marlborough’s
chair as she was visiting in Piccadilly, her chairmen
and footmen being gone to a neighbouring ale-house.
One of her servants thought immediately of applying
* ‘Book of Table-Talk,’ vol. 1. p. 133, -
+ Not the life by Fielding, but one which purports to be an
authentic biography, published anonymously.
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
119
to Mr. Wild, who told him that if he would leave ten
euineas he might have the chair next day. The man
made some difficulty of leaving the money beforehand,
but Mr. Wild told him he was a man of honour, and
scorned to wrong him; and, indeed, his character was
by this time established as a man that dealt honourably
in his way, so that the man ventured at last to leave
the money: wherefore Mr. Wild bade him direct the
Duchess’s chairmen to attend the morning prayers at
Lincoln’s Inn Chapel, and there they should find the
chair, which the fellows did accordingly; and they
found the chair, with the crimson velvet cushion and
damask curtains, all safe and unhurt.”
After the hackney-cvaches had existed two centuries,
cabriolets came to dispute possession of the ground
with them. Cabriolets were long in use in Paris, where
the reckless driving of them through the ill-paved streets
had frequently created a clamour. An expression is
attributed to Louis XV., which expresses the spirit that
would suppress instead of trying to improve—‘“ If I
were lieutenant of police I would prohibit cabriolets.”’
‘Cabriolets made their appearance in London in 1820.
They were painted uniformly of a chocolate colour. In
1823 the number of cabriolets was greatly increased,
and gies and other vehicles began to be substituted for
them; and they became of all colours. Side-seats for the
drivers were also universally adopted, an arrangement
not existing in the Paris cabriolets.
Von Raumer thus describes our hackney-coaches
and cabriolets:—‘* The coaches with two horses are
exactly like ours, and have no peculiar character, as the
one-horse cabriolets have. In Vienna there is nothing
of the kind; and as to our droschkes, I need not de-
scribe their virtues or defects. In Naples there are
small two-wheeled carriages, but quite open. The
driver sits sidewards, at the feet of the gentleman or
lady, and drives, leaning all the while to the right. In
Paris, the driver sits in the cabriolet, by the side of the
person he is driving. Here the latter sits alone in the
carriage, and the driver has a very narrow seat on the
richt hand, stuck on the main body like a swallow’s
nest.”
The original cabriolets were very generally com-
plained against as unsafe vehicles, and indeed they
have an insecure look. The horses were generally
worn-out broken-down creatures: when a passenger
hired a cabriolet, he was usually in a hurry to reach
the quarter of the town to which he wished to be con-
veyed, and at all events it was.the driver’s interest to
earn his fare as soon as he could. The poor horse,
whipped to its utmost speed, frequently slipped, in spite
of all the driver’s efforts to hold him up; and if he fell,
the passenger might be shot out of the cabriolet on thie
street, like an arrow from a bow. Last year, an im-
provement intended to remedy this defect, was intro-
duced ; the body of the cabriolet is swung low, between
a pair of high wheels, and the driver is perched on the
top. A fresh improvement has recently been intro-
duced: the cabriolet is converted into a snug little
close-body coach, both on two and on four wheels,—
the entrance of some from behind, as in the omnibus,
and of others on the side. But these newly-improved
cabriolets are not very numerous, though they are in-,
creasing in number: the old cabriolets still abound in’
the streets.
In 1826 the number of hackney-coaches and cabrio-
lets in the metropolis was 1150, paying a duty of 2/,
per lunar month for each, which produced, including
fines, 29,3921. In 1827 and 1828 the number was
exactly 1200; and in 1829 and 1830 (in the latter year
omnibuses were introduced) the number was 1265,
producing a yearly duty of 32,000/. By the Hackney-
coach Act passed in 1831, the number was directed not
to exceed 1200 until the beginning of 1833, but after
|that period licenses were to be granted without limita-
120
tion as to number. ‘The number of hackney-coaches
and cabriolets at present licensed in the metropolis is
1707. It would be difficult to arrive at a proper idea
of the number of persons who use them, or the amount
of money earned by them daily. It is understood,
however, that the proprietors require from a guinea to
twenty-five shillings per day from the drivers.
All vehicles, whether on two or more wheels, plying
for passengers in any part of the metropolis, within
five miles of the General Post Office, with the exception
of those licensed as stage-coaches, are deemed hackney-
carriages within the provisions of the Act of 1831.
Fares according to Distance.—For every hackney-
carriage drawn by two horses any distance not exceed-
ing one inile, one shilling, and sixpence for every addi-
tional half mile, or fractional part of half a mile.
Fares according to Time.—For every hackney-car-
riage drawn by two horses any time not exceeding half
an hour, one shilling, and sixpence for every additional
quarter of an hour, or fractional part thereof.
For every cabriolet, or other hhackney-carriage drawn
by one horse only, two-thirds of the rates and fares
above mentioned.
From the immense number of +a vehicles of every
description which throng the streets of London, it can-
not but happen that: complaints will arise, and: that
frequently these complaints are just. -The conduct of
drivers and others connected with stage-coaches and
hackney-carriages, 1s far from. being perfect. Public
opinion is, however, operating on them ; ; and really
when we consider the temptations to drinking to which
these men are exposed, under the varied changes of the
atmosphere,—their defective education, which is wholly
of an external kind, scarcely ever leading them to reflect,
we cannot altogether wonder at their occasional defi-
ciencies in the proprieties cf behaviour. Mr. Alderman
Mathew Wood has endeavoured, in each Session of:
Parliament during the last two or three years, to get a
bill passed for the regulation of stage- coaches, omni-
MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT.
[Marcu 31, 1837,
polis. He has hitherto been unsuccessful. ‘The ob+
jections made in Parliament to his bill were, that the
existing law was sufficient for the purpose, and that
many of the provisions of his bill were too stringent,
caleulated to abridge the comfort and enjoyment of the
public in these useful machines, and to lay too heavy a
burden on the drivers and others. ministering to the
pleasure and convenience of thousands, who, if they
could not get a cheap drive, must otherwise walk. The
following table, however, will show that some regu-
lations are necessary :—
Number of complaints made in 1833 and 1834 in
the different London police offices against drivers and
proprietors of short stages, omnibuses, hackney-car-
riages, and cabriolets :—
Hackney-Coaches Short Stages
Mansion House, before and Cabs, and Omnibuses.
the Lord Mayor ... ,» 200g gue
Atthe Guildhall ... § 200 See woe
Towuhall, Southwark . . et Fh OF.
Bow Street .° 5 “. . O05 (sen
Hatton Garden . . « & "O20
Lambeth'Street . «© «4 o st 70Rrpueeecnene
Marylebone e e Ps ® ® 183 A e a 113
Marlbsrough Street . . . 222 .§s5) . 101
Queen Square. © 2 OF
Thames Police Office « « li" eae 6
Union Hall”. . . . « 177) Se
Worship Street . « . © 24 siusT
20418 1488
Being at the rate of eighty-five complaints or , pro-
secutions a month against the drivers or owners of hack-
ney-carriages and cabriolets, and twenty-four against
stage-coaches and omnibuses plying in. or ‘about. the
neighbourhood of London. In about two- thirds of. the
entire number of cases, the offending parties were’ pro-
secited to conviction, and fined in sums varying: from
ls. to 3/., and in a few instances as high as 5/. The.other
cases of complaint were either not proved or abandoned.
The general character of the offences is—insulting: be-
haviour, overcharges, drunkenness, obstructing thestreet
buses, hackney-carriages, and cabriolets: in wae metro- | or road, furious driving, and racing with each other.
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®.* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at 59, Lincoln e Inn Fields,
LONDON :—-CHARLES KNIGHT & CO., 22, LUDGATE STREFT,
Printed by Wicrram Chowzs and Sons, Stamford Street,
AGAZIN
OF THE
for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge.
PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY.
[Apri 1, 1837,
WEYMOUTH.’
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. WEymoutTH, a seaport and well-known bathing-p'ace,
and a municipal and parliamentary borough, is situated
in Dorsetshire, on the western side of an extensive bay
formed by the promontories of St. Alban’s Head and
the Bill of Portland, the distance between which is
about eightcen miles. Weymouth stands at the mouth
of the river Wey, which takes its rise four miles off at
the village of Upway. ‘The coast here forms nearly a
semicircle, extending about two miles between the
headlands, the mouth of the Wey being just within the
southern headland. The bay is sheltered from winds
by the surrounding hills, the beach forms a gradual
descent, and the sands are firm and level. The latitude
of Weymouth is one degree farther south than London ;
and as the distance between the Enelish Channel and
Bridgwater Bay on the Bristol Channel does not at
this point exceed sixty miles, it therefore enjoys many
of the advantages of an ocean climate, the seasons being
temperate and equable. Hence various plants which,
in other parts of the country, require protection from
the cold, flourish throughout the’ winter in the open
air. ‘The geranium grows Juxuriantly,- and requires
little care, and the large and small-leaved myrtle are
out-of-door plants. Dr. Arbuthnot, who came in his
early days to settle at Weymouth, remarked that a
physician could neither live nor die there.
The town of Weymouth was formerly a distinct
borough, but in the 13th of Elizabeth (1571) it was
united with Melcombe Regis, and both places are now
known by the general name of Weymouth. Melcombe
obtained the affix of Regis, owing to its standing on
Vou. VI.
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the demesne lauds of the crown. Weymouth is con-
sidered the more ancient place, but it is only a chapelry,
the mother church being at Wyke Regis; and at
Melcomhbe Regis there was no church until 1605, the
church of Radipole, in which parish it is situated, being
the parochial church. In 1650 the inhabitants of Wey-
mouth petitioned that they might havea parcchial church,
and ‘that a provision should be made for a minister, as
Weymouth, being a warrison and port town, they consi-
dered it was not safe for the people to ao so far as to the
church of Wyke. Both places at this time contained
chanels of ease, but for many purposes it was necessary
to resort to the parish churches of Wyke and Radipole.
The convenient situation of the harbour did not ‘fail to
render Weymouth a place of considerable trade at an
early period; and its commerce with France, Spain,
and Newfoundland sustained the maritime importance
of the town. In the time of Edward ITI. (1847) the
quota-of men aid ships which it furnished was much
larger than that of many ports which have since risen
into- importance.’ In the wars between France and
Eneland at this period, attempts were several times
made to burn the town, but it was not by these means
that Weymouth was destined to lose its commercial
advantages. Henry VIII. built the castle of Sandsfoot,
or fort, about a mile south-west of the town, on a high
cliff, nearly opposite Portland Castle; and also im-
proved the means for the defence of the town and har-
bour. In the reign of James I. Weymouth and Mel-
combe Regis were alluded to ina charter granted by
this king, as ‘* great and famous ports, and of great
122
strength and force to defend the country, and also ex
ercising merchandising, and having much importance
in aud upon the seas, by reason of which a great num-
ber of mariners are constantly employed and nourished.”
From this period, however, the town may be con-
sidered to have been in a declining state until after the
middle of the last century. The wool-staple was re-
‘THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
[Aprix 1,
there.” In 1833 the number of foreign vessels which
entered the port with cargoes was 37; number of
coasting-vessels with cargoes, 355. ‘The number of
reaistered vessels belonging to the port is 85; tonnage
7175. Weymouth is the post-office station and point
of departure between England and the islands of Guern-
sey, Jersey, &c.; the correspondence with which places
moved, and the Newfoundland trade decayed. Poole | is conveyed twice a week each way by steam-boats. ‘The
and other ports rose into greater importance ; the civil | markets are well supplied with all kinds of provision,
wars hastened the ruin of its commerce; public spirit
and enterprise: languished, and were succeeded by
apathy and neglect.
4
and the fish is very excellent. In 1776 an act was
obtained for lighting, watching, and paving the streets,
During the civil wars the town | and for removing encroachments and straw thatch from
was alternately garrisoned for the king and the parlia- | buildings of every description. Weymonth is divided
ment, being several times taken and _ re-taken.
chapel of ease was converted into a fort at this period.
The | from Melcombe Regis by an estuary, or arm of the
sea, which forms the harbour. It is narrow at. the
From this season of depression the town began to} mouth, where the bridge is thrown across, and widens
recover about the year 1763, when a gentleman of
Bath, named Allen, brought it into repute as a bathing-
place. On his first visit to Weymouth there was no
bathing-machine in the place, and he was obliged to
vet one constructed for his own use; but having re-
ceived much benefit during his visit, his recommenda-
tions soon brought others in pursuit of the same objects,
and the usual accommodations of a watering- place were
not long wanting. In 1780 the Duke of Gloucester
spent a winter at Weymouth, and was so much gratified
with his sojourn, that he built a house for his own resi-
dence. In 1789 George III. paid his first visit to
Weymouth, and evinced his attachment towards it by
visiting it several times. ‘The inhabitants made great
exertions to merit the*favour of royalty. Where rubbish
was once deposited, they formed a fine esplanade. ‘This
public walk is half a mile long and thirty feet wide.
A theatre and assembly-room were built, and libraries
and reading-rooms established. Honses for the ac-
commodation of increasing visiters rapidly sprung up
wherever there was an agreeable sea or inland view.
Weymouth possesses no architectural antiquities, and
ihere is nothing to render the appearance of so many
modern buildings in any way incongrnous. A Domi-
nican priory once existed. ‘The church is not older
than the time of James I. It contains a fine altar-
plece by Sir James Thornhill, which he presented to
the town, of which he was anative. His father having
been compelled to part with the family estate, the son
directed his attention to the art of painting, and his
performances in the dome of St. Paul's, at Greenwich
Hospital and at Hampton Court, may be regarded as
indicating great merit, especially when it is considered
that he was deprived of many adventitious aids which
contribute to perfection. By his diligence and industry
he re-purchased the paternal estate, and sat in parlia-
ment for the place of his nativity. Weymouth gives
the second title to the Marquisate of Bath, and George
Bubb Doddington, who represented Melcombe Regis,
was created a baron 1n 1761, with the title of Melcombe.
tle died in the course of the following year, when the
title became extinct.
The population of Weymouth and Melcombe Regis
atnounted to 6662 in 1821, and to 7655 in 1831; viz.,
Weymouth, 2529; Melcombe Regis, 5126. The total
number of houses was 1465, of which 729 were rated
at 10/. per annum. Ineluding portions of the parishes
of Wyke and Radipole, which were comprised within
the parliamentary borough, in accordance with the
recommendations of the Boundary Commissioners, the
population of the borough contained 8095 inhabitants
in 1831. The Commissioners of Inquiry into Muni-
cipal Corporations, printed in 1835, say :—‘* The town
of Weymouth and Melcombe Regis must be considered
ut the present tine as in a flourishing state. Itisa
watering-place frequented by numerous visiters, and
having many respectable families permanently settled
like a bottle, but in an irregular manner. The lower
part is called the Backwater, and a considerable portion
of the land, on which Melcombe Regis stands, has been
reclainied from the Backwater. ‘The process is still
ceoing on. This tongue of land is only sufficient for
the esplanade and road to the north-east; but itis wider
towards the harbour. ‘The louses on the esplanade
are large and handsome, and extend nearly a mile in
length. This is the part of the borough which is most
frequented by visiters. Weymouth proper still retains
a good deal of the character ofa tishing-town, the back
streets being narrow and dirty. When the boroughs
were united by the 13th of Elizabeth, the means of
communication between them was by ferry-boats; but
in consequence of this circumstance, says an old ac-
count of the place, they ‘* conjoined themselves toge-
ther by that fair bridge of timber which we see.” In
1598 Queen Elizabeth granted some advantages to the
corporation for the better maintenance of the bridge.
The bridge went to decay during the troubles in the
rcien of Charles L., and was rebuilt; and in 1712 and
1741 it was again rebuilt at the cost of the represen-
tatives of the borough. In 1770 the bridge again re-
quired re-building, and it was erected seventy yards
west of its former position, contrary to the wishes of a
ereat number of the inhabitants. Weymouth ranks
the third in importance of the towns in_ Dorsetshire.
[t is eight miles distant from Dorchester, which is the
county town; 128 miles from London hy tand, and
88 leagues by sea; and 65 miles from Bath. There is
no direct mail from London, but the letters are con-
veyed by the Penzance, Falmouth, and Hixeter mail,
which passes through Dorchester before nine in the
morning, and from thence they are forwarded imme-
diately. Fashion has failed in effecting for Weymouth
that which it, has done for Brighton, principally in con-
sequence of its being double the distance from the
metropolis ; but the railroad by which it will be con-
nected with Bath and Bristol, will probably contribute
to the prosperity of Weymouth; and there are also
works in progress which will place it in closer con-
nexion with London.
The earliest charter granted to the corporation was
viven in 1252, by the prior of the church of St. Swythun,
Winchester, and the convent of the same place, and it
declared Weymouth a free port and a free town. ‘The
charter was renewed on several occasions, and through
the neglect of the corporate body was forfeited in 1803,
when a new charter was granted. Since the passing
of the Municipal Reform Act, the town is divided into
two wards, which elect eighteen councillors, by whom
six aldermen are appointed. ‘Ihe number of electors
qualified to vote at an election for a member to represent
the borough in parliament is above 500. Municipal
magistrates are appointed, whose commission is limited
to the borough,
1837, ]
BRITISH FISHERIES.—No. IX.
THE MacKEREL—(concluded).
Arrer mackerel are caught, they must be brought to
market with the least possible loss of time, otherwise,
from the perishable nature of this fish, they would be
unfit for use before they reached the hands of the con-
sumer. A bill was introduced into Parliament a few
sessions ago, which prohibited any vessel under the
burden of 200 tons from proceeding to sea on a Sunday.
Such a reeulation would have inflicted a serious injury
on this fishery: and if the laws against Sunday trading
were not tolerant with regard to the sale of mackerel,
there would, in many instances, be three nights in the
week when it would he useless for the boats to proceed
to sea. ‘The fishing-boats on some parts of the coast
are attended by swift-sailing cutters, which proceed to
Billingseate, the most profitable market, the moment
they can obtain a cargo. ‘These vessels are generally
the property of the London salesmen, and the fisher-
men complain heavily of their being supplied by French
boats, and that they are thus deprived of a species of
protection to which they consider themselves entitled
by law; as, with some exceptions, foreign fishermen
cannot bring fish into our markets, whereas, under this
system, the letter of the law is observed, and yet the
fishermen are not protected from foreign competition.
Less than one-fourth of the fish purchased at sea, which
comprises the smaller portion of the total quantity
brought to market, is purchased from the French boats.
The fishing-boats from some parts of the coast proceed
direct to Billingseate. A considerable proportion, pro-
bably one-fourth, is brought up in vans, particularly
from Yarmouth, Harwich, Dover, Folkstone, Hastings,
&c.; but this is far more expensive than water-carriage.
It is true that the post-horses when employed in bring-
ing up a van-load of fish are exempt from the post-
horse duty; but the tolls are very heavy, and it is
only the dearest kinds of fish which are worth convey-
ing in thisexpensive manner. The value of a Hastings
cart of mackerel may be from 20/. to 30/., and this is
a sufficient load for two horses; but sometimes thie
quantity sent by one conveyance requires four and oc-
casionally six horses, as the largest vans will contain
about six two-horse loads. Before the Peace the quan-
tity sent by the conveyances then used was two-thirds
less than is ‘now forwarded by one of the large vans.
Ten carriages are frequently despatched from Hastings
in a day; and when there has been a large take, a ves-
sel is freighted with the fish which remains, and on its
reaching the mouth of the ‘Thames, a steam-tug is
sometimes employed in order to reach the market at
the most favourable time. By a saving of a single
hour a man may gain from 20/. to 30/., and he may
lose much more; for 10,000 mackerel, worth 200/. in
the morning, would not be worth 20s. on the following
day. If 15/. or 20/., therefore, be spent in obtaining
the aid of a steam-tug, it is probable that more than
double the sum will be gained by the outlay.
The market at Billingseate commences at five in the
morning, and if a cargo of mackerel arrive at that hour,
they will fetch probably from 48s. to 50s. per hundred ;
but if the arrival takes place three or four hours after-
wards, when the fishmongers are supplied, not more, per-
haps, than from 30s. to 35s. per hundred can be obtained:
and in the afternoon tlie price would be still further
depressed. The mackerel-fishery, therefore, calls forth
a greater amount of activity, intelligence, and enterprise
than any other which is carried on around the shores of
the United Kingdom. The operations connected with
the herring and pilchard-fisheries, either of which 1s
of ereater commercial importance than the mackerel-
fishery, demand more uniform efforts, and do not de-
pend for success upon the accidents of an hour. Fish
are naturally subject to great fluctuations in price. A
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
~
123
determined quantity is not the necessary result of a
given amount of exertion, as in most other objects
which are useful to man. The supply depends, as it
were, upon accident ; and when the market is already
well furnished, the sources from whence it is ubtained
may happen to be more than ordinarily productive;
and this may be succeeded by a scarcity which no ex-
ertion can remedy. As instances of the great variations
of price which are experienced in this fishery, some
examples, cited by Mr. Yarrell, may be quoted :—In
May, 1807, the first Brighton boat-load of mackerel
sold at Billingsgate for 40 guineas per hundred—7s,
each, reckoning six score to a hundred. The next boat-
load produced but 13 guineas per hundred. At Dover,
in 1808, mackerel were sold at sixty for 1s. In 1834,
they were cried through the streets of London at three
for ls. Mr. Yarrell mentions several instances of great
success in this fishery. ‘The value of the catch of six-
teen boats from Lowestoffe, on the 30th of June, 1831,
amounted to 52521. In March, 1833, on a Sunday,
four Hastings boats brought on shore 10,800 fish, and
the next day two boats brought 7000 fish. Early in
the month of February, 1834, one boat’s crew, from
Hastings, cleared 100/. by the fish caught in a single
night. ‘The fish are sold by auction on the beach; and
at Billingsgate the dealers sell them in quantities above
fifteen, which is-the lowest number disposed of by
wholesale ; soine dealers will not sell less than a hun-
dred of six score. During the season about 100,000
mackerel are brought to Billingseate in the course of
one week, The uncertainty with regard to the com-
mencement of the season, extends to prices, and to the
success of each boat, and resembles a lottery, in which
there are some high prices, and many scarcely worth
striving for; but the hope of obtaining the former is
the great stimulus to exertion. It is gratifying to learn
that clubs are established in which the fishermen can
insure their boats. Many of those who are employed
in the mackerel season are agricultural labourers, who
think they can obtain for a few weeks a higher remu-
neration than by field labour. This, as well as other
fisheries, were represented as being in a declining state
when the Committee on the Channel Fisheries was
pursuing its inquiries in 18338. At Dover, where there
were once thirty fishing-boats, there were then two; at
Kingsdown the number had declined from twenty-two
to eight; at Deal there were two or three where there
had once been forty. At Hastings there were 104
fishing-boats in 1811, and only forty in 1833; and it
is stated in some other places that as the old boats
became unfit for sea they were hot replaced by new
ones. It is quite certain that these statements do not
afford a correct view of the case, so far as the fisheries
in general are concerned. At Barking, for instance,
the number of fishing-vessels is 120, and they have
increased one-third since the Peace; and the same
thing may have taken place elsewhere. Besides, during
the war, the boats kept ostensibly for the purpose of
fishing were in reality often engaged in smugeling ;
and the great falling off which is represented as hav-
ing taken place at Dover, Folkstone, and some other
towns on the coast, is owing to the diminished en-
couragement which the smuggler finds under a wiser
tariff. It may be remarked, also, that the decline in
the number of fishing-boats is generally greatest in
places which are in the best position for carrying ou a
contraband trade with the opposite coast. A question
also arises whether the demand for fish has fallen off or
increased ; or whether it has remained stationary since
the Peace. If it has rather increased, at least the same
number of boats and men must be employed as before,
unless some improved method of taking fish has been
discovered. The decline of a fishing-station in one
quarter has therefore probably been counterbalanced by
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124
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the prosperity of another elsewhere. If the demand has
really fallen off, then it is easy to perceive that consider-
able distress must have ensned amongst the fishermen ;
and that they are in a somewhat similar condition to the
makers of an article of apparel which has been long in
demand but is going out of fashion. ‘There are, how-
ever, grievances Of witch the nshermen may complain
with justice, though it is difficult perhaps to apply an
adequate remedy. ‘They are—lIst, the restrictions en-
forced by the licensing system, which probably might be
advantageously modified ; 2nd, the injuries occasioned
by the French fishermen procuring bait in the breeding
season on our coasts, while they are restricted from
fishing on their own coast during certain periods ; and
they thus enjoy the full advantage to be derived from
these protected grounds, while at the same time they
are not restricted either as to time or place on any part
of the English coast; 3rd, the frequent occurrence of
vexatious interference and molestation on the part of
the I*rench fishermen ; who, conducting their operations
on a larger scale than the Enelish fisherman, the latter
is unable to protect himself from occasional injury.
The French fishing-vessels are much larger than our
own ; their fishing-@ear is of a much larger and heavier
description, and they are manned by double or triple
the number of men. ‘he number of vessels belonging
to the port of Boulogne is between 200 and 300. By
a regulation of the French government these vessels are
required to be manned with not fewer than eighteen or
twenty hands, and the English boats being manned by
only half this number of hands, are unable to resist any
ageressions on the part of their competitors, who fre-
quently order them to leave a ground in which fish are
abundant, or examine the nets of the English fishermen
il] order to ascertain if he has been successful, when
they probably put down their own nets and injure those
belonging to the English boats. These practices have
been a subject of complaint for several. years, especially
in the mackerel and herring seasons, which are the
harvest of the fisherman.
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THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
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fur Mackerel. | ,
employed in the mackerel-fishery at Brighton has been
presented to Parliament during the present session,
praying that protection may be afforded them from the
injury they are constasitly sustaining from the French
trawl boats. The petitioners state that they have in-
vested above 10,000/. in procuring twenty-three mac-
kerel-boats, furnished with snitable nets, which, as
they float om the surface of the water, extend ta a mile
and a half or two miles in length, and that they are
frequently cut asunder and injured by the French
boats. The Committee of 1833 recommended that,
as the fishermen of England were not allowed to fish
within three learues of the French coast, foreign fisher-
meu should be prevented at all seasons of the year from
fishing within one league, or such other distance of the
Iinglish coast, as by the law or usage of nations is
considered to belong exclusively to this conntry; so
that the fishermen of England might at least be placed
upon an equal footing with those of foreign States, as
reeards the protection afforded to them by. their own
country. They further recommended, that during the
spawning season the breeding places should be pro-
tected ; and that foreion fishermen should be compelled
to observe the laws which should be imposed on the
Enelish fishermen also for the preservation of the
spawn. ‘The revenue cruisers and officers of Customs
might, it was conceived, be intrusted with the power of
enforcing these regulations.
The first engraving represents the crew of a French
boat angling for mackerel, as described in No. 319.
The second illustrates a scene which may ‘frequently be
witnessed at an active fishing-town—a Dutch auction.
The plan is to separate the fish into heaps as soon as
they are landed ; and the persons desirous of. purchas-
ing being assembled, one of the fishermen or owners of
the boat acts as salesman, and names a price above the
real value, at the same time elevating a large stone
with which to © knock down” a lot. A lot which may
ultimately sell at 40s. is offered at 60s., the salesman
rapidly naming a lower price until he gets a bid, when
A petition from the owners and masters of vessels | the stone descends to the ground, and the first bidder
1837.]
is thus the purchaser.
ascending sale enables the sellers to get through their
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
The descending instead of an-
12s
the price approaches nearer the actual worth than
when feelings of rivalry are allowed to display them-
work more quickly; and it is, perhaps, the fairest, for | selves.
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[Dutch Auction—Fishermen selling Mackerel on the Beach at Hastings. |
THE FAIR OF NIJNEI NOVGOROD.
A Fair in England is generally a matter of no great
importance; in and near London it is a gathering
tomether of a dense crowd for the pursuit of riotous en-
joyment, or the purchase of toys and sweetmeats ; in the
country a large market for the disposal of one or two
particular articles of merchandise is often the principal
object, and the rustic youths join in some of the sports
of old England, which are now everywhere declining
except at such seasons. But in the extensive countries
of the East, scantily peopled, and il! furnished with the
means of rapid communication, a fair is a very different
thing. It is the mode by which the commercial affairs
of wreat nations are carried on; it is a vast assemblage
of people of various nations, congregating to one spot
for the purpose of bartering their commodities, which,
from the absence of safe channels of communication,
and a want of knowledge of transacting business in
any other way, must otherwise remain in the places of
their production. |
The town of Nijnei Novgorod is the spot on which
one of these fairs is annually held. This town is about
300 miles east of Moscow; it is built upon the right,
or east, bank of the Volea, on a piece of rising ground, in
an angle formed by the river Oka, which joins the Volga
liere. In the * Russian Geographical Dictionary,’ Nijnei
Novgorod is stated to have been built in 1222, by
George Vsevolodovich III., the conqueror of the Mord-
wans; a pagan race, then possessors of immense ter-
ritories in this remote part of Europe, whose descen-
dants, now spread over the same country, are partially
ee ee
converted to Christianity, though still retaining much
of their ancient manners and superstitions. It was
twice sacked by the Tartars, in the fourteenth century,
and nearly all its population massacred. It ‘recovered,
however, from these evils, steadily increased, and was
erected into an archbishopric in 1672. It has two
cathedrals, and twenty-six churches. Its environs are
fertile and agreeable, and its population nearly 15,000.
Its admirable situation, at the confluence of two of the
largest rivers of Russia; and nearly in the centre of the
empire, has induced many Russians to consider it worthy
of being the capital. This town must not be confounded
with Novgorod, which is between 600 and 700 miles
distant from it: it is distinguished by the addition of
the word Nijnei, meaning inferior, though at present
much the larger town of the two.
This fair is of ancient date, though it has been held
at Nijnei not quite twenty years. It was institutea
more than 300 years ago, in consequence of the mas-
sacre of a number of Russian mercliants, who were tra-
ding at Kazan, a town then under the dominion of the
Tartars, who had, at no distant period, been masters of
the whole empire. The Tsar, to avoid such an event
in future, commanded his subjects to abstain from
visiting the Tartar provinces, and appointed the con-
vent of Makariev, a place about sixty miles below
Nijnei, as their rendezvous for trading with the eastern
tribes. This in time became an important market ;
long ranges of shops were built, and thousands of per-
sons from all parts of Russia and the adjoiming coun-
tries came annually to exchange commodities. -An
126
accidental fire, on August 30, 1816, destroyed tne
buildings connected with the aie and the government
took advantage of the circumstance to ie: the whole
establishment to Nijnei, the site of which, at the con-
fluence of two great rivers, rendered it so suitable for
the purpose. Measures were taken for building large
ranges of shops or bazaars at Nijnei, on the bank of
the Oka, opposite the town, and on the Ist Augnst,
1817, the fair was opened.
The fair of Nijnei Novgorod was thus not a new
establishment, but simply the transfer of an old one,
full-erown, to a more favourable situation. In fact,
lone before the transfer, Nijnei had been the seat of a
very considerable commerce, and although the sta-
tionary population of the place was only 10 000 in the
early part of the century, from 60;000 to 70 000 stran-
gers periodically assembled there for the purposes of
trade.
The most recent account of the fair we have met
with is from an intelligent French traveller, Mons.
Bussiére, who visited Nijnei in September, 1829. He
reached the town from the Moscow road, and mentions,
as illustrative of the deserted nature of the country,
even in the vicinity of a large town, that two fine bears
leisurely crossed the public road before his carriage, at
no great distance from Nijnéi. On entering the city
Mons. Bussiére says, “‘ everything was in a bustle, the
streets were crammed with merchants and pedlars, who
were carrying about, displaying, and crying their wares:
the loud talking, the disputes, and cries produced a stun-
ning sensation. ‘The bustle seemed to be rather that
of a.large country fair than that of a national market,
where twenty different nations were met to exchange
the prodnce of their industry; in fact, we soon found
that this was the case, and that the real fair of Nijnei
was held on the further bank of the Oka, and not in
the town where we now were.”
As it was at fair-time, when 200,000 straneers were
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
|
f[Apvarn i,
of foot-passengers, imagine carriages, droskis, waggons
drawn by four horses, and followed by eight or ten
spare ones. Imagine these equipages at full speed
npon a wooden bridge, whose ill-fastened planks shook
up and down with a frightful noise; then suppose, in
the midst of this terrible bustle, a number of mujiks
[peasants] on half-wild horses, without bridle or saddle,
cossacks with horses at full gallop, and some hundreds
of foot-passeugers In oriental costume, and you will
have an idea of the crowds of men, horses, and carriages
on the bridge of the Oka.”
The plan of the fair, as published at Moscow, in 1824,
shows abont sixty ranges of shops, or bazaars, each
marked according to its destination. ‘There are the
Chinese, Armenian, and Siberian rows; ranges for fruits,
provisions, salt-fish, clothes, hats, rags, paper, soap, iron,
steel, copper, china, glass, &c. &c. All these ranges
are placed in uniform order, with sufficient space be-
tween them for the passage of persons having business
at each shop, who are of course very numerous. A
much wider opening intersects the whole fair from west
to east, where a church is built, exactly opposite the
opening. Each range has from forty to fifty shops,
and all are regularly numbered. It is computed that
the number of shops now exceeds 4000, and that if ex-
tended in one line, it would considerably exceed twelve
miles.
Large as this appears, it is not sufficient to contain
all the merchandise brou@ht to Nijnei. The more
bulky wares, and such as demand a less careful pre-
servation, are piled up in long rows on the banks of the
river, under the shelter of tents or sheds. In this way
are deposited, tea, iron, salt, furs, skins, bark of trees,
&e. These articles extend a preat way alone the river ;
a line of three miles in extent is occupied by the produce
of the forests in the neighbourhood of the Ural moun-
tains: there are, amongst other.things, potash, wageons,
kibitkis, rough articles of furniture, fellas of wheels ;
in the place, the traveller found the usual vexations of | these last-mentioned articles present a singular show ;
a Russian town much increased.
brandy-shops, which were the only houses of entertain-
ment to be met with, and the number of their occupants
pouring down quass and vodki, deterred him from en-
tering them. The lucky chance of meeting with a
countryman residing on the spot saved him from star-
vation, or from what he seemed to dread still more, a
Russian dinner. Beds were quite out of the question,
clean straw was a desideratum; but all that could be
got, after a two hours’ search, was a scanty provision of
hay, not over clean. For this accommodation, in a little
wooden apartment, with a table and four chairs, he had
to pay 5s. a day.
An ascent to the Kreml, or fortress, which stood on
a considerable elevation, afforded a fine view of the
town. ‘The houses, built upon a rather steep descent,
stood, one below another, at our feet with a pleasing
irregularity, and reached as far as the rerular ranges of
eardens, churches, and houses, which adorned the - plain
between the foot of the hill and the river. Beyond was
the Oka, a broad and qniet stream, slowly rolling its
waters to unite them with those of the celebrated Volea:
A large sand-bank occupied the middle of the current,
and this unstable spot was connected with the two
shores by bridges of boats, covered with a noisy crowd.
The sandy isle was encumbered with herds of horses,
piles of merchandise, thousands of waggons, huts, and
tents; on the further bank was seen the bazaars, con-
stituting the place of the fair, in all their imposing
regularity.”
The bridge of the Oka seems scarcely to have been
snited by size or strength for the immense traffic of
which it was the channel. “ You may have seen peo-
ple,” observes Mons. Bussiére, ‘‘ hurrying ou and elbow-
ing each other through a narrow passage; now, instead
The smell of the |
they are not formed in separate pieces, as the circles of
wheels with us, but are bent while still growing into
the required shape; and the piece of oak which when
oreen was made to assnme a circular form, retains it
unaltered when dry. The lofty piles of these hoops
were likened by Mons. Bussiére to the towers of a for-
tification.
In addition to the bustle on land, the river also
js covered with its population. Above 1000 vessels
are usually lying in the neighbourhood of the fair.
These are chiefly of an Asiatic form and appearance ;
some are whimsically painted with a great variety of
the most gandy colours, glittering in the sunshine.
Others are ornamented with brilliant suns, manufac-
tured of scarlet stuff, and furnished with golden rays.
Two or three sober-looking steam-boats in the midst of
this gay assemblage, like the-dingy Enropean dress in
comparison with the flowing Asiatic costume, afford a
curious contrast, and furnish an object of wonder to the
half-savage tribes who visit this remote region.
The additional population of Nijnei at fair-time has
been already stated to amount to about 200,000. The
majority of this is Russian, but there are also very many
strangers. The chief of these are Bukharians, Eastern
Tartars, and Siberians; there are also Persians, Arme-
uians, Kirghis, Calmucs, Bashkirs, Greeks, and Turks,
and a few from the remote countries of 'Thibet, Cashi-
mere, and Hindustan. The Chinese in old times fre-
quented the fair of Makariev, but since the establish-
ment of the trading ports of Kiakta and Maimachin,
on the borders of Mongolia, they rarely come further
westward.
The general appearance of the shops in the fair is, as
might be supposed, of the most miscellaneous descrip-
tion ; something of everything may be seen there, from
1837.]
the rich display of jewellery, plate, and fashionable
dresses, which would not disgrace London or Paris,
down to the petty booth where brandy or quass is
retailed to the weary traveller or thirsty sot. The
curious variety of costume presented is stated to be
very interesting; and here may be seen and studied
the peculiarities of oriental nations, whose homes have
always been inaccessible to Europeans, and whose ex-
clusive habits would render investigation more difficult
in their own country if it were accessible. In almost
every shop, the owners, when unoccupied in business,
may be seen engaged in a game of chess, of which the
Russians, as well as most oriental nations, are extra-
vagantly fond. But in all this concourse of people,
scarcely a woman is to be seen. ‘The Asiatic visiters,
who at home exclude women from public society, would
naturally bring none with them, and the Russians who
visit Nijnei are said to partake this exclusive feeling:
the truth most probably is, that as the great majority
of Russians are only temporary visiters, they find it
more convenient to leave thelr wives behind them,
than to bring them to a place where their presence
would be inconvenient, and little gratifying to them-
selves. Even in France and England, under similar
circunistances, the custom would be the same.
It was computed by Mons. Bussiére, in 1829, that
merchandise to the amount of 100,000,000 of rubles
were disposed of annually, of which about tliree-fifths
were of Russian growth or manufacture. He gives
the value of the principal articles as follows :—
Rubles. lbs. weight,
12,000, 000—2,000 ,000
9,000,000
Tea , . : A
Furs from Siberia . 8,000,000 to
Leather from Astra-
khan . h - 3,000,000 ,, 4,000,000
Russian manufactured
cotton - 15,000,000 ,, 18,000,000
Silkk . : - 9,000,000 ,, 10,000,000
Iron. a e 10,000,000
Copper ; - 2,500,000
Salt Fish , “|, a00 , 000
Colonial Goods’
Foreign Wines and
Spirits
8,000,000 ,, 10,000,000
4,000,000
A Russian official document gives the whole amount
for the year 1820 at 94,350,000 rubles, made up as
follows :—
Rubles.
Chinese goods . ° ° 2 14,800 ,000
Bukharian do. e @ r 4) 5,900,000
Persian do. “ P : : 1,000,000
Turkish do. : : 4 3,800,000
Foreign European do. ° . 16,700 ,000
Russian do. ‘ 4 ° 52,5950 ,000
94,350,000
The ruble is what the Russians term the ruble assienat,
and is in value about 10d.
These results appear at first sight very large, and
would seem to give a magnificent idea of a nation that
could maintain such a trade at a single town. But,
in fact, the very existence of such a trade is a proof of
a want of internal communication, and of the insuffi-
ciency of general industry in comparison with the ex-
tent of territory to be supplied. A curious example of
this is found in the circuitous way in which skins of
Astrakhan reach their ultimate destination. On their
way to Nijnei from Astrakhan, they pass by Kazan,
a large town on the Volga, where the chief tanneries in
that part of the empire are established. At Nijuei they
are purchased by the Kazan tanner, who carries them
back to his tan-yard. There they are manufactured
into leather, and the following year are again carried
to the fair, and sold to bedispersed through the empire,
some perhaps to find their way once more back to
Astrakhan.
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
127
DARING AND FEROCITY OF THE WEASEL. °
(Froin a Correspondent.]}
Tis little animal is generally so well known in every
part of the country, that an elaborate delineation of its
appearance and_propensities could scarcely, I conceive,
be interesting. Like the whole class of animals to
which it belongs, it is prone to the commission of
depredations on the feathered creation ; and although
the common weasel is but a slender tiny creature, so
that a smallf chicken or duckling would appear; abun-
dantly sufficient to satisfy the cravings of its keenest
appetite, yet it is quite a common occurrence to find it
destroying full-erown ducks and fowls, and sometinies
even geese and turkeys. ‘There are numerous instances
on record of the weasel destroying full-grown rabbits
and hares,—not to feed upon their carcases, but for the
sake of banqueting on their warm life-blood. I once
had an opportunity of witnessing a weasel make an
attack npon a hare while it was feeding in a grassy
meadow on a fine summer evening. When my atten-
tion was first attracted to the encounter, the weasel
had just sprung upon and seized the hare by the 1pper
part of the neck, fixing its sharp fangs in the region
of the larger blood-vessels ; the astonished and alarmed
hare was making various ineffectual efforts to shake it
off,—first darting in one direction, then in another,
and then bounding aloft into the air,—but all her efforts
were to no purpose. When poor puss was in rapit
motion, the little blood-thirsty assassin had enough
to do to keep its hold; but when she became compara-
tively still for a moment, it would mount upon her
back—or attempt to do so—in order to gain a little
rest; but it never let go the deadly hold its sharp teeth
had first taken. ‘The strugele might have continued
for nearly a quarter of an hour when the hare sunk
upon the grass; and issuing from my hiding-place I
hastened to the rescue. But alas! it was too late. The
little villain retreated as I approached, but with an ex-
ceedinely bad erace, for it chattered and scolded in its
peculiar laneuage, and emitted that offensive odour
peculiar to this species of animals; but as I was unpro-
vided with any sort of weapon, it finally succeeded in
reaching a place of security in an adjomme hollow
bank. In examining its victim, which was still alive,
although not able to stand, I found a rather large and
lacerated wound in the upper part of the neck, from
which the blood was still flowing ; but certamly not of
a magnitude to have caused the hare’s death, if the
large arteries had not been opened from which it was
evidently bleeding to death.
That the weasel is a remarkably courageous and de-
termined little animal, the following statement, which
was related to me by the individual on whom the
attack was inade, and but a few days after the curious
adventure occurred, will tend strongly to prove; and
also will show that, diminutive as it is, it is not at all
times to be trifled with even by “ the lords of the crea-
tion.” :
B t F t, or “ Old Biddy,” as she was more
ovenerally called, was an itinerant tea-dealer in a wild
and mountainous district of the county of Westmore-
land. She had been left a poor and lone widow, and
for some years after she became such, was mainly sup-
ported on the fruits of the industry of an only and
affectionate son. But a melancholy accident deprived
him of his life, and his aged parent of his filial assist-
ance and support; in consequence of which a plan was
devised by a distant relative, and some of ‘* Old Biddy’s ”
benevolent neighbours, to put her in a way to earn a
small pittance for an honest livelihood. They effected
their laudable purpose by furnishing her with the means
of laying in asmall stock of tea, not only for the supply
of the little hamlet in which she resided, but it was
recommended that she should occasionally * travel for
128
orders.” -‘ It was in one of those little excursions through
the wild district in which she ‘resided—for her business
sometimes took her six or eight miles from home—that
she was put in extreme bodily fear; and had it not
been that she was armed with a good-sized staff, and
habited withal in garments of ‘* stout double-milled
home-spun,” there is strong reason to believe that she
would have fallen a victim to a numerous party of infu-
viatc@l weasels. But she shall relate the event in her
own way. Who that, has ever travelled by that great
north-road, leading from: Liverpool and Manchester
northward to Carlisle and ‘Sthe Land o’Cakes,” does
not remember that most dreary and forlorn-looking
portion of it, known by the appellation of “ Shap
Fells.’ It was on these very ** Fells ” that our itinerant
tea-merchant one day was making her monthly circuit
to some lone cottage situated among the heath and the
bent, and the melancholy bleakness of the surrounding
hills; while in one hand she carried her. stock of teas,
tied up in an old blue pocket-handkerchief, amounting
probably to three or four pounds, and already made up
into packages of half-pounds, quarters, and half-quar-
ters, to suit her customers, while her other hand firmly
embraced that staff which was soon'to deal death and
destruction to quite unexpected assailants. DPeing some-
what weary with her long walk, and observing an trre-
eular pile of lichen-covered stones, not far fromm the
Imouniain path that led to the cottage she was bound
to (which night probably yet be a mle distant), she
approached the stone-heap, and having selected one
with a tolerably smooth surface, seated herself without
the slightest suspicion of being an. unwelcome intruder
She had scarcely, however, got her bundle ‘safely de-
posited, and her aged limbs nestled into the seat which
nature had so kindly provided for her, when she ob-
served a weasel peep from beneath a mossy stone,
within a few feet of her restine-place; at the same time
uttering certain sounds indicative’ of its manifest dis-
pleasure. ‘‘ I saw the thing was angry,” relates the
old woman, ‘** but I had’ often seen a vexed weasel
before, and therefore-thought but little about it. But
presently a second, and a third, and a fourth made
their appearance, all evincing evident tokens of dis-
pleasure. [ had been looking at the two or three
that grinned, and cherred, and chattered, in a way I
must confess I did not much admire, when on looking
in a contrary direction, to the place where I had put
down my bundle, I verily believe there were over a
score chattering and tearing at the blne handkerchief.
[I think I should have let them have the tea quietly,
although God knows I could have ill afforded to lose
so much! but when I got up to away, I believe another
score at the fewest came running up right in front o.
me. Some of them were already within the reach of
my walking -stick, so I struck at two or three of the
nasty impudent things, but in a minute four or five of
thein were scrambling up my clothes, and one or two
ot as high as my neck and shoulders. I now struck,
and kicked, and punched, and screamed, and in truth I
scarcely know what I did; and although I know that I
killed and lamed a few of them, yet I sincerely believe
they would have e@ot the better of me at last, if it had
not pleased Providence so to direct it, that a shepherd's
dog, having heen attracted to the place by the skirmish
I was making, came to the top of a neighbouring bank
and began to bark with all its might; and the instant
the vermin heard the barking of the dog, they all disap
peared under the large stones, except perhaps some
half-dozen that I had managed to discomfit. But I
did not stay to connt them, for, hastily snatching up
my torn bundle, I ran faster than I remember to have
done for many alone year; and I took good care in
future not to come near any more stone-heaps.”” ‘This,
as nearly as possible, was the exact relation given by
THE PENNY MAGAZINE,
ee
|
[ApriL 1, £837,
“ Old Biddy,” of her strange adventure with the
weasels, and at the time when every circumstance was
fresh in her memory, and before the bites and scratches
upon her person had wholly disappeared.
I believe there are other: instances on record whcre
weasels have been found assembling in large companies,
which, on their being molested or annoyed, have offered
battle to the human species. Although I cannot pre-
cisely state that a regular attack was ever made by
them personally upon myself, yet they once mustered
in so formidable a party, and exhibited a manner so
insolent and daring, that I was not only deterred from
carrying a little project agaimst them into effect, but
was actually so cowed by their audacious bearing that
I fled from the scene of action. ‘Phis event, also, took
place in a secluded little valley in Westmoreland. It
was during’ the Christmas holidays, the ground being
covered with snow, and the mountain streams firmly
bound up in ice, that I determined upon trying, my
luck at capturing some marauding little animals that
nightly left their foot-prints upon the snow in the bot-
tom of a lone and sequestered dell, where were some
dilapidated stone walls that, at a remote period, had
probably formed a portion of some rude but quiet
dwelling. For this purpose I provided a couple of
traps, and, in order to make success more certain, I
baited them with a few small birds which I had suc-
ceeded in capturing. ‘Thus prepared I’ reached the
bank of the small brook near to the ruined wall; and
the only difficulty that now presented itself was to find
something to chain my traps to, so that the weasels, or
the foumarts, or whatever clse the nightly. prowlers
might be, should not have it in their power to carry
tuem off. But finding nothing to answer my pnrpuse
LT was under the necessity of returning home, in order
to supply myself with a couple of stakes, and an axe to
drive them into the frozen ground. - Whatever had oc-
curred in the vicinity of my traps during my absence,
of course I cannot take upon me to say; but, upon my
return, I had no sooner commenced, driving one of the
stakes into the ground, than at the least a dozen little
heads were perking from as many holes in the old wall,
and sundry sets of sharp teeth were exhibited, ready, as
I imagined, to tear hin who had been meditating their
destruction. I was then twelve or tliurteen years of
age, and had neither scen nor heard of a whole pack of
anery weasels, so that at first I was not much alarmed ;
but as I continued the operation of driving iny stakes,
the whole party advanced towards me, grinning and
barking and grimacing, and, to confess the truth, suc-
ceeded in driving me out of the lonely dell, leaving my
traps baited, but not set, behind me. When I got
home and related this singular adventure to the assem-
bled family, they could scarcely credit so strange a cir-
cumstance; but prevailing upon my elder brother to
accompany me on the following moriuimng to revisit
my traps, he became convinced, from the numerous
tracks in the snow, that I had considerably under-rated
the number of weasels that had advanced to the charge
when I retreated from the valley. The traps we found
just as I had left them; for although the sparrows with
which they were baited might have been carned off
with impunity, not a single feather thereof had been
touched or ruffled! But all was silent and lifeless—
no sentinel appeared’ to give warning; and when I
had coaxed my brother to explore the old wall, the
place of their abiding, not the slightest signs of its
being inhabited could he by any means discover.
: *,* The Office of the Society’for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledee is at
2), Lincoln’s Inn Fields. A
‘LONDON :.CHARLES KNIGHT & CO., 22, LUDGATE STREET,
Printed by Wittiam Crowes_and Sons, Stamford Street,
THE PENNY
IAGAZINE
; OF THER
=ociety for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledee.
322.)
PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY.
Pk a Sy
[ApriL 8, 1837.
A LOOKING-GLASS FOR LONDON.—No. IX.
Inns, Horets, Taverns, and Puniic-Housss.
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{The Old Blue i Holborn.
In the statutes for the regulation of the city of London,
which were made 552 years ago (in 1285, the thirteenth
year of the reion of Edward I.), it is complained that
“divers persons do resort unto the city,’—foreigners
and others, some of them suspicious characters, who
had fled from their own country, or had been banished
—and ‘“‘of these some do become brokers, hostelers,
and innkeepers within the city as freely as though they
were good and lawful men of the franchise of the
city; and some do nothing but run up and down
through the streets, more by night than by day, and
are well attired in clothing and array, and have their
food of delicate meats and costly; neither do they use
any craft or merchandise, nor have they any lands or
tenements whereof to live, nor any friend to find them ;
and through such persons many perils do ofteu happen
in the city. "Yo remedy these mischiefs, no foreigner
was to be allowed to become an innkeeper or hosteler
unless he was a freeman of the city. It was also com-
plained that “offenders going about by night do com-
monly resort and have their meetings and evil talk in
averns more than elsewhere, and there do seek for
shelter, lying in wait, and watching their time to do
mischief.”
Vou, VI.
Lo put a stop to this, none were to keep |
taverns for the sale of wine and ale open after the
tolling of the curfew.
Chaucer, in his prologue to the ‘ Canterbury Tales,’
celebrates the Tabard, now called the Talbot, inn, in
Southwark :—
“ Befell that, in that season on a day,
In Southwark at the Tabard as I lay,
Ready to wenden on my pilgrimage
To Canterbury with devout courage,”
and he tells us the entertainment which the company of
pilgrims received—
“Great cheer made our host everich on,
And to the supper set he us anon ;
And served us with vitail of the best,
Strong was the wine, and well to ear us leste”
Of the cook who accompanied the party it is said—
« Well could he know a draught of London ale.”
London ale was probably the best of that time, a cha-
racter which has been since usurped im some measure
by London porter.
Lydeate, a priest and voluminous poet, or rather
rhymer, who flourished at the end of the 14th and
beginning of the 15th centuries, (he was a young man
‘when Chaucer was old,) has left a poem, entitled,
S
130 THE PENNY MAGAZINE. [APRIL 8
‘London Lyckpenny,’ the whole of which is given in| field; Red Lion, Alderseate Street; Bear and Ragged
Strutt’s ‘ View of Manners,’ and a portion of it in| Staff, Smithfield; Belle Sauvage, Ludeate Hill; Bull,
‘ Ellis’s Specimens of the Early English Poets.’ ‘Pwo; Bishopsgate Street; Castle, Wood Street; George,
or three verses of it will convey an idea of the appear-| Holborn Bridge; George, Aldersgate Street ; Queen’s
ance London presented to a stranger upwards of 400] Head, Southwark; White Swan, Holborn Bridge ;
years ago. Lydgate supposes his hero to have arrived | Blossoms, Lawrence Jiane; Spread Eagle, Grace-
at Westminster Hall in quest of redress for some legal | church Street. ‘The majority of these are still among:
wrong. Westminster and London were then distinct | our respectable inns, especially as coaching and com-
cities, separated by the country. The penniless stranger | mercial establishments, though of course they are
having failed in obtaining the redress he sought for in| eclipsed by the splendour of our modern hotels.
Westminster Hall, turns away, and he is assailed by At present in the metropolis there are 396 inns,
Flemings, who ask him what he will buy ? hotels, and taverns, many of them magnificent, all of
« Fine felt hats, or spectacles to read, them more or less spacious and extensive establishments.
Lay down your silver, and here you may speed.” If to this we add a number of large private boarding-
houses, we shall have at least 430 houses for the recep-
tion and entertainment of strangers residing tempo-
rarily in London. But this is exclusive of the great
number of licensed victuallers (7. e. keepers of public
houses), especially in the city and about the docks,
He tnen goes to Westminster Gate, and cooks offer
him bread, with ale and wine, and ‘ ribs of beef,”
« A fair cloth they gan for to spread,
But, wanting money, I might not be sped.”
So from Westminster he goes on to London :— who accommodate strangers, of coffee-rooms and eating-
‘Then unto London I did me hie, houses, some of which have lodging-houses attached to
OF all the jand ip*bemme cm yam prsce} them, and of the many private houses which are pro-
‘ Hot peascods!’ one began to cry, pies: Ny Wot h OF th i e th
‘Strawberry ripe, aud cherries in the ryse!? [on the twig. | essionally Neon a). oe a ese
One bid me come near and buy some spice; we cannot arrive at any satisfactory approximation.
Pepper and saffron they gan me bede, [bid] The number of fashionable hotels—that is, of esta-
But for lack of money I might not speed. blishments where everything is on the highest scale of
Te to the Soe = me drawn elegance and expense, and which may be fitly termed
>. rere much people I saw for to stand ; palace-inns—is about thirty. ‘They are all situated,
ne offered me velvet, silk, and lawn, / be .
Another he taketh me by the hand, AS - might be naturally expected, at the west end.
‘ Here is Paris thread, the finest in the land!’ . For instance, Mivart (a well-known name in the lists
I never was used to such things, indeed, of fashionable arrivals and departures) has two hotels,
Aud, wanting money, I might not speed. one in Brook Street, Grosvenor Square, the other in
Then went I forth by London stone,
Throughout all Canwyke | Cannon] Street,
Drapers much cloth me offered anon :
Then comes me one cried * hot sheep’s feet ! ’
One cried mackerel, rysses [rushes] green another gan ereet
[cry
One bade i, buy a hood to cover my head,
But, for want of money, I mght not be sped.
Davis Street, Berkeley Square; Warren’s Hotel is in
| Revent Street; Fenton’s in St. James’s Street ; Lim-
| mer’s in George Street, Hanover Square; the Claren-
: don, both in New Bond Street and in Albemarle Street ;
| the Burlington, in Old Burlington Street; Wright’s
Hfotel, in Dover Street, Piccadilly; and so of the rest,
all of them lying at no very considerable distance from
eich other. The increase of hotels has, however, been
much checked by the establishment of ‘ Clubs,” of
which we may have to speak hereafter.
The commercial inns are more scattered about Lon-
don. Many of these, though not aiming at the ele-
gance of the fashionable hotels, are yet wealthy, long-
established, and comfortable houses. Those from which
the mail-coaches rin are the Golden Cross, at Charing
Cross ; the Bolt-in-Tun, Fleet Street ; the White Horse,
Fetter Lane; the Bell and Crown, Holborn; the Sara-
cen's Head, Snowhill; the Swan with two Necks, Lad
Lane; the Spread Eagle, Gracechurch Street, the Betle
Sauvage, Ludeate Hill; and the Bull and Mouth,
opposite the General Post Office, in St. Martin s-le-
Grand, ‘There are a number of other inns, which,
though not running mail coaches, are yet extensive
i stage-coach establishments; and many others which
| are eminent as waggon inns. The engraving at the
| head of this article represents the ‘‘ George and Blue
Edward VI. c. 5—1552) to “avoyde the great price; Roar,” in Holborn, as it appeared some years ago. It
and excess of wynes,” in the preamble of which it is | has since been considerably altered, and the open gal- -
stated that there was “ muche evill rule and common leries no longer exist.
Then I hied me unto East Cheap,
One cries ribs of beef, and many a pie,
Pewter pots they clattered on a heap ;
There was harp, pipe, and minstrelsy ;
Yea, by cock, nay, by cock, some bevan cry.
Some sung of Jenken and Julyan for their meed ;
But, for lack of money, I might not speed.
Then into Cornhill anon I yode [went]
Where was much stolen gear: among
I saw where hung mine own hood
That I had Jost among the throng ;
To buy my own hood I thought it wrong:
I knew it, well as I did my-creed,
But, tor lack of money, I could not speed.
The taverner took me by the sleeve,
‘ Sir,’ saith he, § will you our wine assay ?”
I answered, ‘ that can not much me grieve,
A penny can do no more than it may ;’
I drank a pint, and for it did pay ;
Yet, sore a-hungered, from thence I yede,
Aud, wanting money, I could not speed.”
In Edward the Sixth’s reign an Act was passed (7th
resort of misruled persones used and frequented in Some of the taverns are well known, from their con-
many taverns of late newly sett uppe in very great { uexion with political, charitable, or festive meetings.
noumbre in back lanes, corners, and suspicious places} Such, for instance, are the London, and the City of
withyn the cytie of London, and in divers other towns | London taverns, both in Bishopseate Street; the Al-
and villages within this realme.’’ The number of | bion, in Aldersgate Street; the Crown and Anchor, in
taverns to be licensed in London was restricted to forty, | the Strand; the Freemasons’ Tavern, in Lincoln’s Inn
and in Westminster to three. Fields; the British Coffee-house and Tavern, in Cock-
There is, in No. 170 of the ‘ Penny Magazine, a} spur Street; the London Coffee-house and Tayern on
brief account of the number of inns in London in 1684. | Ludgate Hill; and even, to 20 out of the heart of Lon-
It appears that the whole number of inns in London } don to its southern verge, the Horns Tavern fronting
at that period was eighty-two. Of this number the} Kennington Common. Other taverns have various
most important appear to have been the Castle, Smith- | characteristics, Lloyd’s Coffee-house, and Garraway’s,.
1837.]
the first at the Royal Exchange, the other not far from
it, in “Change Alley, are associated with marine intelli-
gence, underwriters, stock-jobbing, and auctions; the
Chapter Coffee-house, a grave and quiet-looking place,
in Paternoster Row, close to St. Paul’s Churchyard, is
much dedicated to the business of booksellers; Peel's,
in Fleet Street, and Deacon’s, in Walbrook, are sought
for by those who wish to consult numerous files of news-
papers of every description, provincial and foreign; the
lover of literary reminiscences and associations may
stroll down Fleet Street, seek for Dr. Johnson's Tavern,
In Bolt Court, endeavour to ascertain the site of the
Devil Tavern, where Ben Jonson held his club, and
Swift, and Addison, and Garth, and Steele have dined,
or else turn aside into the Mitre. If he mourn the
almost total obliteration of the old taverns of the clas-
sical eras of Elizabeth and Anne, he may cross over to
Southwark, and though even there the hand of im-
provement is at work, still he will find some traces of
“former days.”
We have heard a great deal, of late years, about the
extraordinary increase:and splendour of ‘ vin-palaces,”’
and the consequent fearful demoralization of the labour-
Ing population. An able writer tn an able book, which
was published in 1833, says, ** As to gin-shops, London
is improving most rapidly, both in number and finery;
every week, almost every day, producing a new gin-shop,
fitted up with spring-doors, plate-glass, mahogany or
rose-wood, all more elegant, as they say in America,
than the gin-shops which sprung up the week bsfore.*”
After tls, the reader may perhaps hardly credit the
assertion that there are not more public-houses now to
a population of nearly 2,000,000 than there were to a
population between 600,000 and 700,000. In 1725,
when the population was probably not more than
600,000 (it was certainly not more than 700,000), a
committee of the Middlesex magistrates reported, that
It appeared from retuins made by the high and petty
constables, certified on oath, that there were then in the
metropolis, exvelusive of the city of London and South-
wark, 6157 houses and shops “*‘ wherein geneva or other
strone waters are sold by retail.” And the committee
add, *‘ although this number is exceeding great, and far
beyond all proportion to the wants of the inhabitants
(being in some parishes every tenth house, in others
every seventh, and in one of the largest every fifth
house), we have oreat reason to believe it is very short.
of the true number, there being none returned but such
who sell publicly in shops or houses, though it is known
there are many others who sell by retail, even in the
streets and highways, some on bulks and stalls set up
for that purpose, and others in wheelbarrows, who are
not returned; and many more who sell privately in
garrets, cellars, back rooms, and other places not pnb-
licly exposed to view, and which thereby escaped the
notice of our officers.” If to the 6187 reported, we
add ouly 1000 for the city of London and Southwark,
and 500 for illegal places, we shall have 7687 houses
and shops selling liquors in the metropolis during the
year 1725.
Again, in 1750 (the population had not materially
increased), it was stated to a Committee of the House
of Commons that there were about 16,009 houses in
the city of London, and that about 1050 licenses were
oranted yearly to victuallers, which was about one
lionse to fifteen.
17,000 houses, of which there were about 1300 licensed
and 900 unlicensed, that sold liquors, which was about
one house in eight. The High Constable of Holborn
stated that in his district there were 7066 houses, of
which 1350, licensed and unlieensed, sold liquor; being:
about one house in five and a quarter. In St. Giles’s
alone there were 506 gin-shops to 2000 houses, being
* «Envland and America,’ vol.i., p. 61.
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
SF ED AQ
In Westininster there were about:
131
above one house in four, besides about eighty-two
twopenny-houses*™ of the greatest, infamy, where gin
was the principal liquor drank.
Now, in London, at present, there are not above
3780 licensed victuallers, to which we may add about
}30 retailers of beer. From the vigilance of the Ex-
cise there cannot be inany illegal places; but let us
state the entire number at 4000. Many of these
licensed victuallers have large and most respectable
houses; the greater number supply their respective
neighbourhoods with malt liquors for family consump-
tion: and even the “ gin palaces’ owe their crowds of
votaries, not to a positive increase in the numbers of
these houses, and an increased thirst for gin in the
population, but to the fact of there of being an in-
crease of houses correspondingly with the great increase
of the population, which fact will also explain why and
by what means the gin-shops have become, many of
them at least, “‘ gin-palaces.” The great sums which
are well known to be paid for the goodwill of a licensed
victualler’s house not only confirms this, but also con-
tributes to keep up and perpetuate the monopoly. In
truth, the present generation of the working péople of
London are, when compared with their fathers and
grandfathers, advanced immensely in all the better
qualities of temperance, consideration, intelligence, and
propriety of demeanour. May their further advance be
more and more evident, till a gin-shop shall look as
antique a thine as the Old Blue Boar at the head of
our article.
The licensed victuallers’ houses are, many of them,
professedly chop-houses; and all are bonnd by law to
provide in their tap-rooms the means and conveniences
for working men to cook and eat their dinners. Thus
it is acommon practice for those who are laboriously
employed, and whose homes are too distant ‘from their
places of business, to pnrchase a steak or a chop at the
butcher's, and, taking it into some neighbouring: pnblic-
house, have it comfortably cooked, and be supplied
with eating conveniences; and this accommodation is
afforded for, perhaps, an extra halfpenny on the price
of the pint of porter, or even without that extra charge.
The eating-houses and coffee-rooms (not the taverns
which bear the name of coffee-houses) are breaking in
upon this old practice of resorting to the tap-room for
the purpose of dining. At the eating-houses dinners
are supplied both cheaply and comfortably ; a man may
dine in London at one place comfortably for 10d. or Is.,
and perhaps a few doors farther off, 1f he wishes to be
extravagant, he may dine elegantly at five times the
price. The coffee-shops (as they are called) are chiefly
frequented by the working and middle classes, where,
with coffee, tea, eras, chops, &c., there is usually a
plentiful supply of newspapers and other periodical
literature. ‘There are at present about 300 coffee-rooms
aud 250 eating-houses in London, none of which are
licensed to sell spirituous liquors.
We can hardly conclude this paper without reference
to the signs of inns and public-houses. The reader
who feels a curiosity respecting the etymology and
sivnification of signs, may look at No. 253, in vol. v. of
the ‘ Penny Magazine.’ He may be amused by learn-
ine, that in London there are upwards of seventy
public-honses bearing the name of the ‘* Grapes,” sixty-
two ‘* Ships,” and twenty-eight Ships combined with
something else, such as “ Ship and Shovel” and “ Ship
and Shears;” no less than 205 ** White Bears,” ‘* White
Harts,” ‘ White Horses,” and ‘‘ White Swans;” eighty-
eight “‘ King’s Arms,” and sixty-nine “ King’s Heads 5”
fifty-six ‘“* Queen’s Heads and Arms; seventy-four
“ Crowns,” and ‘fifty-three combined Crowns; fifty-six
‘“ Coach and Horses,” twenty-six “ Bells,” nineteen
‘¢ Feathers,” and the’ same number of “ Fountains ;”
* Twopenny was a species of malt liquor then in vogue,
132
fifty-one with the name of “ George,” and forty-six
‘George and Dragon,” ‘George and Vniture,” and
“ George the Fourth;” sixteen “ Green Dragons,”
twenty-two “Green Men,” but only fonr ‘‘ Green Men
and Still.’ We have seven ‘ Ben Jonsons,” nine
‘© Shakspeares,” sixteen ‘* Lord Nelsous,’ and about
twenty-five ‘* Wellingtons,” lord, marquis, and dnke ;
aud, not to add any more, a “ Bleeding Heart,” a
‘© Man loaded with Mischief,’ and a ‘‘ Good Woman”
—-that is, a woman without a head.
ON THE WINGS AND TAILS OF BIRDS.
Wirtn the exception of the bats, no mammalia enjoy the
powers of flignt, though many, by means of an expanse
of skin stretched alone the sides from the fore to the
hinder limbs, are capable of taking skimming leaps,
and during the continuance of the leap even able to
alter their course. Among reptiles, amphibia, and.
fishes, there are no species endowed with flight, and
but few enabled to take those skimming leaps which
the flying squirrels, the flying lemur (Galeopithecus),.
and the flying opossums practise with such sweeping
elegance of movement. ‘There are, however, a few.
Among the reptiles we may mention the flying dragons,
beautiful little lizards, in which the six false ribs on
each side are extended outwards to a “considerable
extent, and form the stretchers of-a fine membrane,
which constitutes an admirable parachute. Among
fishes, the flying-fish is celebrated for its skimming
leaps in the air, which the magnitude of its pectoral
fins enables it to execute. But, if we except the bats,
neither the mammalia, nor the lower classes of the
vertebrate division of the animal kingdom alluded to,
present us with animals formed for sustaining them-
selves in the air, and of winging their way according
to their pleasures or necessities. One class, however,
consists so universally of animals endowed with the
powers of flight, that the few exceptions met with, in
which this facnlty is denied, strike us from their sin-
gularity, and almost seem to be out of the pale of their
class. We need not say that we allude to birds, the
class aves, the feathered fribes of air.
Diversified in their habits, the power of flight is a
common endowment. It is enjoyed not only by the
swallow, that migrates to distant latitudes, coming and
gvoing with the seasons,—not only by the humming-
bird, whose motions are almost too rapid for the eye
to follow,—but by such as seek their food upon the
ground, whether seeds or insects,—by such as inake
the trees their abode, and weave their nests among the
branches, and by a throng of dwellers upon the surface
of the ocean, which gain their sustenance from its ex-
hanstless magazine. Terrestrial, arboreal, waders, or
oceanic (with a few remarkable exceptions), all are
capable of leaving the earth, the trees, the marsh, or
the sea, and of winging their way in the regions of the
air. It must be confessed, however, that the powers of
flight are not alike in all;—some are untiring on the
wing,—others, again, are incapable of long continuance,
and become speedily exhausted by their efforts. The
character of the flight of birds also is as variable as its
capability of continuance: in these respects, indeed,
every species. has its own peculiarities more or less
strongly marked, so that a practised naturalist will
know a species by its flight alone ;—we here allude
more especially to the birds of our own island, with
which we have the opportunity of becoming acquainted
ii a state of nature. ‘he organs of aérial progression,
by which a bird elevates itself and maintains and di-
rects its course, it need hardly be stated, are essentially
the wings; but the ¢wil is also of considerable import-
auce, and must be regarded as subsidiary to the former.
The wings and tail of a bird, however, would be of
.* =
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
{Aprin &,
little avail, were not its whole structure consonant to
the efficient nse of these organs; the action of the
wing's presupposes muscles of enormous strength, and
possessing the power of continuing long at work ;—
conjoined with which there mnst be both lightness and
a proper contour of body. Nor is the nature of the
veneral clothing to be put out of the account: scales
would be inadmissible; hair little less so; but feathers,
while they increase the snperficies of the body (being
full and deep), are so light, that the body, thus enlarged,
becomes comparatively of less specific gravity than i
clothed with.an equal volume of fur. ‘The form,—the
muscular strength,—the extent of the lungs, and of the
air-cells proceeding from them,—the contour of the
body and the nature of its clothing,—tend thus, in
beautiful harmony with its express organs of flight, to
endow the bird for soaring in the sky, and traversing
the realms of air.
And here we may inqnire more minutely into the
structure of those organs upon which the power of
flieht immediately depends, viz., the wings, and in a
secondary degree the faz.
_ The wings consist of an osscous framework, acted
upon by muscles, the tendons of which are respectively
inserted into the several bones composing it, the whole
being covered with skin, and affording a solid basis,
upon which rest the feathers essentially requisite for
flight, and distingnished by their shape and arrange-
ment. ‘lhe disposition of the muscles and tendons of
the wing afford a beautiful display of mechanical con-
trivance; we shall not, however, attempt to describe
thein, as it would be to depart from our present design ;
but we cannot omit a description of the osseous frame-
work, inasmuch as it is immediately connected with the
arrangement and fixedness of the feathers. As in man,
the wing, which is in fact the arm of the bird, consists
of the true-arm, the fore-arm, and the hand.
[ Bones of the Wing. }
The true-arm consists of the humerus, or os humert,
A; this bone is cylindrical and hollow, and its head is
received into a shallow cavity of the scapula, or shoulder-
blade, at the angle made by the sudden iurn and descent
of the large coracoid process, which in birds is attached
at its posterior extremity to the anterior margin of the
breast-bone, so as to form a supplemental clavicle, a.
The fore-arm consists of an wna, B, and radius, c—the
radius is very slender. The wine has often a row of
tubercles on its upper surface, indicating the situation
of the barrels of the secondary quill-feathers, which are
supported by it.
The hand is divided as usual into carpus, metacarpus,
and phalanges. ‘The bones of the carpus, D, are small,
and two in number. ‘The metacurpus, 5, consists of a
Single bone, formed by the union of two anchyloses at
1837.)
each of their extremities; on its anterior edge at the
base is seated the thumb-bone, a single pointed piece,
F. The fingers, G, are two; the first consists of two
phalanges, a broad basal bone, as if several were com-
pacted into one, and a small pointed terminal bone.
The second finger consists merely of a small styloid
portion in close contact with the first phalanx of the
first finger. The hand thus formed is destitute of all
those powers which we are accustomed to ascribe to
THE PENNY MAGAZINE. Y
aS |
St = Ee > ee ah,
=< aii 2
133
such an organ; it is a firm inflexible support for a
series of stiff elastic feathers continuous with those pro-
ceeding from the ulna. | }
The bones of the wing being thus briefly described,
we shall advert to the arrangeinent of those feathers
which give this organ its expanse, and which beat the
air in the act of flight. J*or the clear understanding
of this part of the subject, we present the wing of a
common buzzard, stripped of all its feathers, except
[ Wing of the Common Buzzard. ]
these, in order that their relative position may be seen.
Those arising from the hand and ulna, are termed quill-
feathers (Remiges), ‘hey are divided into two sets;
first, a set arising from the hand, a, consisting of the
most important of the series, and mainly instrumental
by their length and shape, their stiffness or flexibility,
in determining the character or the power of thie flight.
Dhey are termed the Primaries, or primary quill-feathers,
and are ten in number, but they differ in form, as well
as in relative length. ‘The second set arise exclusively
from the wlna, and are termed the secondaries, or
secondary quill-feathers, B; they are usually shorter,
broader, and less rigid than the former; their number
varies. From the small bone which represents the
thumh, arise certain short stiff feathers, lying close upon
the quills of the primaries, and constituting the spurious
wing or winglel, c.
Besides these, there is a group of feathers termed
tertiaries, arising from the humeral joint of the fore-
arm, and which, in many birds, as the curlews, plovers,
lapwings, &c., are very long, forming a sort of pointed
appendage, very apparent during flight: in most birds,
however, they are very short, or not to be discriminated
from the rest of the greater coverts, of which, in fact,
they- are a continuation; hence they cannot strictly be
reckoned among the quzll-feathers. ‘The same obser-
vation also applies to the feathers, p, attached to the
upper part of the Awmerus, and termed scapularies ;
these lie alone the sides of the back, and in many birds
are Of great leneth. ‘The position of these feathers,
and of the coverts, will be seen in the annexed sketch,
which is the expanded wing of a curlew.
[Wing of a Curlew. |
A, A series of feathers, termed the lesser coverts, disposed
in scale-like order, row alter row, on the fore-arm aiid |
carpal-joint; they cover the barrels of the quill-feathers;
below them extends a series of larger feathers, B, which
sweep across the wing, encroaching far on the primaries,
and when the wing is closed usually hiding the secon-
daries ; these are the greater coverts, of which the fer-
tiaries are to be regarded as a continuation. The
under surface cf the wing is lined with softer feathers,
termed under coverts. |
Such is a general sketch of the mechanism of the
wing of a bird, and before we enter upon a considera-
tion of the modifications of form to which it is subject,
we shall proceed to areview of the mechanism of the
feathers forming the taz/, or rudder.
The caudal or coccygeal vertebra, form a moveable
adjunct to the immoveable sacrum, which in the bird
anchyloses with the haunch-bones, so as to constitute
a solid whole. ‘The last bone of the caudal verlebre
(which are few in number) is larger than the rest, and
of a different figure; it is compressed laterally, and has
much resemblance to one of the spinous processes of the
dorsal portion of the vertebral column in mammalia.
The development of this bone will be found on con-
sideration to be necessary, inasmuch as it supports the
tail-feathers, the quills of which are fixed in capsules,
as well as powerful muscles, for the purpose of acting
on these feathers, for they are capable of being ex-
panded (as in the turkey-cock)’ or closed, elevated
or depressed. The terminal joint of the tail merely
stripped of its feathers, is, as we know, somewhat
heart-shaped, owing to the muscles, which are con-
tivuous to the bone, and to the lateral arrangement of
the capsules for the reception of the quills of the tail-
feathers. ‘The mechanism of the tail of a common
fowl will convey a good idea of the subject. The tail-
feathers vary in size, length, shape, and strength, in
various groups or genera; they vary also in number;
their usual number, however, is twelve, somelimes they
amount to fourteen, and in the gallinaceous tribes
to eighteen, or even more. ‘The tail-feathers of the
common buzzard afford a good illustration of their
ordinary arrangement. Six on each side are disposed
one above another, and they partially over-lay each
other, the lateral one on each side being overlaid by
134
the next in succession, and so on to the centre; of the
two central feathers one overlays the other. The quills
of the tail-feathers are hidden beneath what are termed
the upper tail coverts, which in some birds, as the
peacock, thie resplendent troron (7rogon resplendens,
Gould), &c., form lone flowing plumes of exquisite
beauty. Beneath, the quills of the tail-feathers are
covered by under tail coverts, consisting of lax feathers,
and in some birds, as the marabou, forming plumes of
ereat softness and delicacy. Occasionally, indeed, as
in the ostrich, the menura superba (lyre-bird of Aus-
tralia, see Cut in No. 317), and others, the tail-feathers
themselves lose their ordinary character, and are soft, lax,
and flowing. Having thus sketched out the general
plan upon which the wings and the tails of the feathered
race are org'anized, we shall next take a rapid survey of
the principal modifications in form and character ex-
hibited by them, in connexion with the influence such
modifications have upon flight.
- [To be continued.]
THE VALUE OF THE INTELLECT.
(Extracted from * Self- Formation ;, or, the History of an
Indwidual Mind.)
J HAVE set forth the whole course of my intellect from
first to last, running it through “‘ even from my boyish
days,” and copying from my memory, as they occurred to
ine, its quick vicissitudes, its changes between light and
darkness, between despair and hope, between triumph
and disappointment; in short, [ have reconnted the
series of my experiments—true, genuine experiments
made upon myself—a lesson worthy of all acceptance,
and study, and observance; for, assure thyself, reader,
in Intellectual as in natural philosophy, it is only by the
practice of experiments that we can hope to be effectual :
we must try ourselves at all points before we can know
our faculties, or put them to their use, or give them
their rieht direction. And now I have to cast up my
account, to set my hire against my labour, my profit
against my loss, and ascertain the balance. How, then,
does it stand? ‘This is the main point, and it should
be developed clearly:
In the first-place; when all is told, I am neither rich,
nor powerful, nor renowned amone my fellow men.
My intellectual advancement, whatever it may be, has
either fallen short of these things, or left them on one
side: if they be the ereatest good, the true riches, then
am I poor indeed, and doubtless I should be so re-
garded in the opinion of many men. ‘* We judge the
tree hy its fruit,” so probably they will tell nie; ‘ and
it is in vain that’on this tree of yours we look for such
fruit as is beautiful to the worldly eye or pleasing to the
worldly palate. Your philosophy may be well enough
for your idle dreamers until they wake from their
dreaminess to disappointment; but for us, what we
have proved we will hold fast; we know better things,
we will none of your false ware—away with it.”
However, for myself, I must confess, though it is
yet an early day for me to complain, that I have “missed,
hitherto, these great objects of ambition. But how,
and why ? Assuredly not In consequence of my in-
tellectual exertions; it is not from them that my
failure has originated ,—forefend the thought !—on the
contrary, my only chance of success depends on them.
IT am convinced that Voltaire is rivht, where he tells us
that the spirit'of business is the same with the true
spirit of literature. ‘The perfection of each is in the
union of energy and thoughtfulness, of the active and
contemplative essence; an union commended by Lord
Bacon as the concentrated excellence of our nature.
And of this truth I have had experience. By the
course of practice and experiment heretofore recounted
by me,
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
Y had advanced myself .from mere passive |
childishness of intellect to something like the maturity |
[APRIL 8,
of manhood. I had vindicated myself from my base
and most irksome subjneation to feebleness, nervous-
ness, and the whole host of mental infirmities; and I
had attained, in their stead, a certain degree, not a very
hivh one, I admit, of clearness, comprehensiveness, and
confidence—energy, industry, and perseverance. Now,
it is quite certain that these qualities can be no hin-
drance to the worldly advancement of any man; on
the contrary, they conduce to it necessarily, and most
manifestly. Generally, even in these brisk and giddy-
paced times, these dogdays of competitionary heat, they
will command success ; but they cannot do so always.
Moreover, as I must admit the truth, even when she is
a messenger of evil, therefore I allow the fact, that
the cultivation of the intellect in its trne and proper
method, from the very uprightness and high-mindedness
that it gives, is apt on some occasions to throw difficul-
ties In our way, or, rather, to prevent our evasion of
them. Where the entrance to preferment is low, and
the whole passage crooked, there the worldling has the
advantage; he is then at home; he can creep and
crawl alone where he cannot walk uprightly; while
the man of high intellect will stoop to no such degrada-
tion. Hence he may miss his points; as they say in
the laneuage of the turf, he is liable to be shut ont and
precluded from laying himself out fairly in the race.
But this, after all, is but the snfferance of a moment;
and as surely as he bears it here, so will he be rewarded
for it hereafter; and, besides, it is in itself but a small
matter, compared with the great and many advantages
for worldly furtherance that belong in other respects to
intellectual eminence. :
But it is a miserable mistake, though by no means
an unfrequent one, to suppose that the value of the in-
tellect consists mainly or principally in its sufficiency
for our worldly furtherance. ‘The man who can come
to such a conclusion, is in much the same degree of
baseness and absurdity as those who were followers of
our Saviour only for the sake of the loaves and fishes.
We value intelligence high, not because it may lead us
to such things, as indeed. it often does, but because it
raises us above them. He-who has the fewest wants
is the nearest to the gods—so it was said by a philose-
pher; and there is much truth in the saying. ‘To be
free from imaginary cravings is in itself a @reat for-
tune; greater than the greatest wealth of the greatest
leviathans in riches can enable them to reach. Not
that Tam one of those who regard the advantages of
this world as things absolntely of no account. Good
houses, and good clothes, and good carriages, and eood
possessions, generally are welcome, for the most part,
even to the most rational man. I would not detract
from them; let them pass for their full value: only
thus much would I say, that the only effect upon our
welfare, of these and all other external things, is hy
their impressions upon the mind. But impressions
from without, as 1] have already stated, never fail to
be dulled and deadened by repetition. We become
gradually indifferent to them; at last we regard them
but little, if at all: the place that they should supply
is become a mere ‘blank to us. But our intellectual
habits, on the contrary, are strengthened by exercise ;
they become quicker, more vivid, and more agreeable,
from day to day; even where they do nothing more,
they fill the void of ony existence, and that most pleas-
ingly. Besides, as the mind is the man, we must
address ourselves to the mind, if we wonld procure the
man’s enjoyment; we must frame it to energy, and
quickness, and sensibility, else is the heart like lead, a
cold, heavy, inert, impassible mass. A person of loose,
and feeble, and listless disposition will be feeble and
listless still, though he be surrounded with pleasurable
resources. ‘They will merely tantalize him; he cannot
make them available; he‘has not streneth enough to
extract from them the virtue, the efficacy towards hap-
1837.]
piness that really belongs to them. He can do nothing
with great means; whiereas the man of intelligence,
quick, lively, and full of spirit, can make mnueli of very
little means, turn all things to account, find everywhere
a soul of gladness, “‘ and good in everything.” More-
over, the wealth of this world labours to the end of
happiness by a very cumbrous and unwieldy apparatus;
whereas the intellect acts immediately, goes straight to
its mark, and hardly ever fails of it.
Thus am J requited. ‘This is the service that my
mind, with all the pains that I have bestowed upon it,
has rendered me; and, verily, the reward is not such
as to attract the worldly eye, or kindle the lust of covet-
onsness. There is nothing of show or glitter in it;
nothing of pomp or circumstance—it 1s sterling, but
simple gold, In the world’s esteem I am not a jot the
wealthier for its possession ; except, indeed, so far as it
has saved me from wastefulness and profligacy. Nei-
ther by its means have I arrived, nor am [ ever likely to
arrive, at ereatness. It speaks not in the trumpet blast
of fame, but in the still voice of consciousness. Nor yet
am I altowether sure that my mind, as I have framed it,
will ensure me what zs called success in life, for this de-
pends not on one’s self—occasion may be wanting to it,
competition may keep it out, accident may frustrate it.
But though it has given me none of these thing's, it
has done me a far better service, inasmuch as it has
enabled me to forego them, and to live contentedly
without them. Itcan never assure me the favours of
fortune, but it has made me independent of her. By
its aid I can find my happiness in myself, instead of
looking for it anxiously and hurriedly and vainly in
things without me. ‘This is my reward; and, on the
whole, comparing what I have gained with what I have
undergone, I am well satisfied with it—satisfied to the
very fulness of gratitude.
I do not mean to say that the habitual exercise of the
intellect ends necessarily in this result; but, at least, it
tends to it necessarily. And, when combined with reli-
oious feeling, it cannot fail io work on others as it did
on me; to ensure them, that is, a firm and steady foot-
ing throughout their walk of life, to render them supe-
rior to casualties, and to endow them with the streneth
and self-sufficiency of the man described by Horace :—
“In seipso totus, teres atque rotundus, * * *
In quem manca ruit semper I’ortuna *.”
These are great endowments, glorious gifts; bnt
there is one above tliem all, and indeed beyond all
price, that may be considered as belonging, not exclu-
sively, but properly, to intellectual superiority. This
is the development of religion. [or there is much of
mutual dependence between the mind and soul: they
lend aid, each to the other, and conspire amicably. I
believe that a certain degree of intellectual force is
absolutely necessary for the existence of true religion.
It is only by thought that we can arrive at reason.
Reason alone, calm reflective reason, is equa! to the
subjugation of the passions; and the passions must
first be subjugated, ere religion can prove itself. J
have stated this truth elsewhere; in an earlier part of
my book I have dwelt upon it more at large. I offer
it again here, not to insist upon it any further, but in
order that the impression of this religious advantage
may be the last upon my reader’s mind.
Truly, then, did Solomon say unto us, “¢ Wisdom is
the principal thing; therefore get wisdom, and with all
thy getting, get understanding. Exalt her, and she
shall promote thee: she shall bring thee to honour,
when thou dost embrace her. Forsake her not, and
she shall preserve thee: love her, and she shall keep
thee.” ‘Such is his injunetion, and I will not weaken
= * +
* ¢¢ Who on himself relies, “s
And breaks misfortune with superior foree.”’
, Praneis, Satres, lib, fi., Sat. 7,
THE PENNY.
MAGAZINE. 135
it by any addition of my own. ‘This only will I say;
that the prize so set forth by him is open to every man;
and he who refuses it, who turns away from his happi-
ness, When it 1s offered to him on so fair terms,- is
ouiltier, in my Judgement, than the suicide.
DIET.
Tne stomach, says Areteus, is the leader of pleasure
and of pain. In other words, good-humour depends in
a great measure on a good digestion; melancholy is
first cousin to dyspepsia; and as a knock-down blow
on the stomach destroys life at once, so will a nuinber
of petty blows, dealt out to it in the shape of bad pro-
visions, make life short and uncomfortable.
One of the questions which meets us at the outset of
this subject is, whether it is better to eat too much or
too little, whether abstinence or satiety is to be preferred.
It is easy to say, keep the mean, but as this is not easy
to define, we would advise our readers, without deviating
from strict temperance, to lean to the more genial ex-
treme, and follow Celsus rather than Abernethy. “ Celsus
could never have spoken it as a physician, had he not’
been a Wise man withal, when he giveth it for one of
the great precepts of health and lasting, that a man do
vary and interchange contraries, but with an inclination
to the more benign extreme; use fasting and_ full eat-
ing, but rather fnll eating; watching and sleep, but
rather sleep ; sitting and exercise, but rather exercise,
and the like: so shall nature be cherished and yet
taught masteries.” * '
Of diet, considered in its general divisions.—It is
almost unnecessary to state that the best diet for man:
consists of a mixture of animal and vezetable substances,
with one mineral—salt. A few whimsical persons have,
in various ages, abstained from animal food; the most’
noted of these was Pythagoras, who flourished about
500 years before Christ, and from whom the modern
feeders on vegetables alone are generally called Pytha-
goreans. There is a Pythagorean sect in this country,
and a Pythagorean cookery-book once fell into our
hands; it permitted the use of eggs and milk.
In favour of animal diet, on the other hand, in addi-
tion to scriptural authority, and the usage of all ages
and countries, we may allege the structure of the human
body itself. We find that man not only resembles car-
hivorous as well as graminivorous animals in his teeth,
but that his intestines form a mean between those of
the two classes ; neither so long as those of the animals
destined to live on vegetables alone, nor so short as
those of beasts of prey. ‘Too exclusive an animal diet
renders persons subject to violent inflammatory attacks;
and produces (as in the case of butchers) that over-
florid appearance which the superiicial mistake for the
hne of health, but which the discerning know to be but
one step, and scarcely one step, removed from disease.
Too exclusive a vegetable diet reduces the strength, and
forms a race of men peculiarly hable to be mown down
by low fevers. It must be confessed, however, that
climate modifies these rules considerably. The native
of a warm and dry country will prosper on a diet which
would hardly sustain life in England; and the coarser
inhabitant of the north is benefited by a quantity of
animal food which would utterly disormanize the more
(lelicate structure of the Hindoo. Habit, too, must
everywhere be taken into consideration. Mr. Thackrah
informs us, in his work on the diseases of artisans, that
Irish recruits often suffer from the generous diet allowed
to soldiers ; and they are so sensible of the fact them-
selves, that when attacked by disease they say to the
military surgeons, ° Sir, it’s the mate that’s killing ime,”
Consequences of very ingudicious diet.—If we wish
to know what are the results of the most injudicious
* ¢Bacon’s Essays. —Of Regimen of Health,
186
diet persevered in with the spirit of a martyr, we must
not turn to the rich pies and champagne of the opulent
epicure, nor to the tripe and gin of the inhabitant of
St. Giles’s, but refer to the experiment tried upon his
own person by a bold and ingenious physician of the
last century—Dr. Stark. He began them in June,
1769, and they terminated with his life in the following
February. In reading the early life of those heroes
whose exploits were destined one day to surpass all that
minstrels had sung or poets imagined, we often find
that the zeal of the young aspirant was inflamed to its
highest pitch by a recital of the deeds of his predeces-
sors: and in like manner Dr. Stark seems to have been
encouraged in his course by what he calls ‘ Facts re-
lating to Diet,’ which are sufficiently interesting to jus-
tify us in quoting them.
¢ Dr.-B. Franklin, of Philadelphia, informed me that
he himself, when a journeyman printer, lived a fortnight
on bread and water, at the rate of 10 lbs. of bread per
week, and that he found himself stout and hearty with
this diet.
‘¢ He likewise told me that he knew a gentleman,
who, having been taken by the Barbary corsairs, was
employed to work in the quarries, aud that the only
food allowed him was barley, a certaim quantity of
which was put into his pockets every morning; water
he found at the place of labour; his practice was, to
eat a little now and then, whilst at work, and having
remained many years in slavery, he had acquired so far
the habit of eating frequently and little at a time, that
when he returned home his only food was ging erbread
nuts, which he carried in his pocket, and of which he
ate from time to time.
‘¢ By Sir John Pringle I was told that the inhabitants
of Zephalonia, during s some parts of the year, live wholly
on currants. He also said that he knew a lady, now
ninety years of age, who ate only the pure fat of meat.
“T learned from Dr. Mackenzie, that many of the
poor people near Inverness never took any kind’ of
animal food, not even ewg's, cheese, butter, or milk.
oS Maz Hewson informed me that Mr. Orred, a surgeon
at Chester, knew a ship’s crew, who, being detained at
sea after all their, provisions were consumed, lived, one
part of them on tobacco, the other on sugar ; and that
the latter oenerally died of the scurvy, whilst the former
remained free from this disease, or soon recovered.
“Dr. Cirelli says, that the Neapolitan physicians
frequently allow their patients in fevers:nothing but
water for forty days together.
‘¢ Mr. Slingsby has lived many years on bread, milk,
and vegetables, without animal food or wine; he has
excellent spirits, is very vigorous, and has been free
from the gout ever since he began this regimen.
“Dr. Knight has also lived many years on a diet
strictly vevetable, excepting eggs im puddings, milk
with his tea and chocolate, and ‘butter. He finds wine
necessary to him. Since he lived in this manner he
has been free from the gout.*”
These specimens of fantastic diet do not require
much commentary: currants (2. e. the small raisins of
Zante) are among the most indigestible articles, and
in large quantities wonld produce violent diarrhoea ,;
even a fever patient cannot live on water alone for
forty days; and tobacco will dull the appetite, but not
nourish the body.
Let us now proceed to Dr. Stark’s own experiments.
On the 24th of June he began with a diet of bread and
water, which he had the fortitude to continue till the
26th of July, when he changed it for one of bread,
water, and sugar. On the ‘lth of August, “I ate
twenty-four ounces of bread and sixteen ounces of
sugar, but the last part of it with great abhorrence. I
now perceived small ulcers on the inside of my cheeks,
* Stark’s Works, pp. 92-3.
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
[Apri 8, 16375
particularly near a bad tooth, in the lower jaw; of the
right side; the gums of the upper jaw, of the same
side, were swelled und red, and bled when pressed with
the finger; the right nostril was also internally red or
purple, “and very painful. "—p 102e
This diet was succeeded by one of bread and water,
with oil of olives. ‘This reduced him to such a state,
that on the 8th of September he was so weak and low
that he almost fainted in walking across his room. His
fourth diet was of bread, yA and inilk; his fifth of
bread and water, with roasted sxoose. We then come to
diets of bread and water with boiled beef; bread and
water with sugar; bread with boiled beef and water ;
&c. &c. The last mess but one, which appears to have
given the finishing stroke to Dr. Stark’s digestive
organs, wearied by the eccentricities of eleht inonths,
was a diet of bread or flour with honey, and infusion of
tea or of rosemary. When flour was used, it was made
into a pudding with the honey. The last diet was of
bread, Cheshire cheese, and infusion of rosemary: On
the 18th of February, Dr. Stark took bread with in-
fusion of rosemary, but no cheese. On this day his
complaints became serious, and In spat of good ere
advice, he died on ‘the 23rd.
Dr. Currie terminates the account of one of his ex-
periments on cold bathing with the remark that the
chief thing he learned from it was, that it was not
rashly to be repeated; we fear that the same melan-
choly lesson is almost the only thing to be deduced
from Dr. Stark’s experiments. ° They appear to have
destroyed him by causing an inflammation of the wi
mentary canal. :
Nor are these whimsical diets better suited for .:
than for man, as appears from some of Majendie’s
cruel experiments :—‘** A doe fed upon white sugar and
water exclusively, appeared, for seven or ei@lit days, to
thrive upon this sustenance. He was lively,—ate and
drank with avidity. Towards the second week, how-
ever, he began to lose flesh, though his appetite con-
tinued rood. In the third week he lost his ‘liveliness
and appetite; and an ulcer formed in the middle of
each cornea, which perforated it, and the humours of
the eye escaped: the animal became more and more
feeble, and died the thirty-second day of the experi-
ment. .Resnults nearly similar ensued with .dogs fed
upon olive oil and distilled water, but no ulceration of
the cornea took place ;—and upon dogs fed with eum,
and with butter.
‘A dog fed with white bread made from pure wheat,
and with water, died at the expiration of fifty days.
Another, fed exclusively on military biscuit, suffered no
alteration in its health.
“Rabbits or guinea-pigs fed upon one substance
only, as corn, hay, barley, cabbage, carrots, &c., die
with all the marks of inanition, generally in the first
fortnight, and sometimes sooner.
‘* An ass fed upon boiled rice died in fifteen days,
having latterly refused its nourishment. A cock lived
for many months upon this substance, and preserved
its health,
“Dogs fed exclusively with cheese, or with hard
egos, are found to live for a considerable period; but
become feeble, meagre, and lose their hair *.”
We will conclude this account of injurious diet with
two observations. ‘The first is, that variety, which is
proverbially charming, is in diet absolutely necessary ;
the second is, that concentrated food, such as jelly or
strong soup, is to be used but sparingly, as it 1s not very
nourishing, and is remarkably difficult of digestion.
* « Mayo’s Physiology,’ 2nd edition, pp. 208-9.
[To be continued.}.
#.* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at
9, Lincoln’s Inn Fields,
LONDON: CHARLES KNIGHT & CO., 22, LUDGATE STREET.
Printed by Witiiam Clowes s and Sons, Stamford Street,
THE PENNY MAGAZINE
OF THE ~
society for the Diffusion.of Useful Knowledge.
323.1
PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY.
[Apri 15, 1837,
A LOOKING-GLASS FOR LONDON. —No. xX,
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Ir does not appear ‘that there existed, in London, any-
thing of the nature of a cLus—that is, as Dr. Johnson
defines the word, ‘‘ an assembly of good fellows meeting
under certain conditions’—hefore the reign of Eliza-
beth. - The times were doubtless too rude and unsettled,
and liberty of action too much circumscribed, to tolerate
the existence of any regular convivial association, whose
objects might not have been understood, or might have
been misinterpreted. ‘‘ Good fellows” must, therefore,
have been contented to seek each other’s company at
taverns in occasional accidental or preconcerted meet-
ings, not daring (probably not thinking of it) to establish
a permanent association. But in the more settled and
brilliant times of her of whom Andrew Marvel exclaims,
‘«‘ None ever reigned like old Bess in the ruff,”
the remarkable men of a remarkable time established
the first clubs that are recorded in our literature. Ben
Jonson’s club, for which he wrote his ‘ Leges Con-
vivales, or Laws of Conviviality, met at the Devil
Tavern, which stood near Temple Bar; and at the
Mermaid ‘Tavern, in Friday Street, which runs off
Cheapside, was held a still more famous club, of which
Shakspeare, Beaumont, and Fletcher, Sir Walter Ra-
leigh, Selden, Donne, and others, were members. We
have little more than traditional accounts of these
clubs: but there is a well-known and frequently-quoted
poetical epistle by Beaumont, addressed to Ben Jonson,
in which he alludes to the meetings of the club at the
Mermaid Tavern in that exaggerated strain in which
memory is apt to indulge when recalling events in life
Which have left a relish behind them :—
Vou. VI.
Tyre Cuuss oF Lonpon.
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[ Pall-Mall, with the Carlton and other Club-Houses. ]
“¢ Methinks the little wit I had is lost,
Since I saw you: for wit is like a rest
Held up at tennis, which men do the best
With the best gamesters. What things have we seen
Done at the Mermaid! heard words that have been
So nimble, and so full of subtile flame,
As if that every one from whence they came
Had meant to put his whole wit in a jest,
And had resolved to live a fool the rest
Of his dull life; then where there had been thrown
Wit able enough to justify the town |
For three days past,—wit that might warrant be
For the whole city to talk foolishly,
Till that were cancell’d; and when that was gone,
We left an air behind us which alone
Was able to make the two next companies
Right witty ;—though but downright fools, mere wise.”
After the Restoration, a principal resort of literary
men, wits, talkers, and idlers, was Will’s Coffee House,
which stood at the corner of Bow Street. Here Dry-
den reigned, by universal consent, as the literary
monarch of the age. But it is painful to contemplate
the dissolute period of the reign of Charles II. The
conduct of a large portion of the higher and better
educated classes of that time appears almost as if a
general determination had been come to, of employing
all the ingenuity of intellect to degrade and brutify the
diviner faculties of man. 7
There were a great number of clubs in existence in
London during the early part of the eighteenth cen-
tury; and Steele and Addison, with their delightful
ideal paper clubs in the ‘ Tatler’ and ‘ Spectator,’ con-
tributed much to spread them, and bring them into
fashion with all classes. But evil as well as good
T
138
sprung from the great increase of these associations.
If literary and educa men met together, to enjoy in
easy and convivial interconrse the outponrings of wit
aud fancy,.there were ot wanting others who imitated
what they did not understand, Sincl substituted brutality
and drunkéiiness for exhilaration and pleasant enjoy-
ment. A royal proclamation was issued in April, 1721,
for the suppression of “* certain’ scandalous ‘clubs or
societies of young persons who meet together,” whose
conduct was certainly of a most improper kind. A
writer in 1733 tells us it was quite a common practice
for tavern-keepers to have a tacit or positive under-
standing with certain individuals, who acted as ‘‘decoy-
ducks” to draw customers. “ They are,” he says,
‘* for ever establishing clubs and friendly societies at
taverns, and drawing ‘to them every soul they have any
dealings or acquaintance with. The young fellows are
mostly sure to be their followers and admirers, as
esteeminig it a great favour, to be admitted amongst
their Seniors and betters, thinking to learn to know the
world and themselves * % F Ina morning, there
is no passing’ through any part of the town without
being hemmed and ‘yelped after by these locusts from
the windows of taverns, where they post themselves at
the bidst. convenient views, to observe such passengers
ag they have .but the least knowledge of; and if a
person be i in the greatest haste, going upon extraordi-
nary ¢ occasions, or not caring to vitiate his palate before
i and so attempts an escape, then, like a pack
of
lord is détached upon his dropsical pedestals, or else a
more nimble-footed drawer is at your heels, bawling
out, “Sir! Sir! itis yonr old friend Mr. Swallow, who
wants you upon particular business !’ ”
A traveller, who aimed at mixing in the “ fashion-
able world, ”* this describes his manner of. living in
[724 :—* Tam lodged in the street called Pall-Mall;
the, ‘ordinary residence of all strangers, because of its
vicinity to the Kine’ § Palace, the Park: the Parliament
House, the theatres, and the chocolate and coffee-
houses, where the best company frequent. If you
would know 3 our manner of living, it is thus :—We rise
by nine, and those that frequent ereat men’s levees
find entertainment at thei till eleven ; or, as in Hol-
land, go to tea-tables. . About twelve the Bedu- monde
assembles in several chocolate and coffee-houses, the
best of which are the Cocoa Tree and White’s Choco-
late-houses, St. Jaihes’s; the Smyrna and the British
Coffee-houses ; and all these sO near one another, that
in less than an honr you see the company of them all,
We are carried to these places 1 in chairs (sedans), which
are here very cheap, a guinea a-week or a shilling per
hour; and your chairmen serve you, for porters to run
on errands, as your gondoliers do at Venice.
“If it be fine weather we take a turn in the park till
two, when we go to dinner; and if it be dirty, you are
entertained at “picket or basset at White’s, or you may
talk politics at the Smyrna and St. James's. J must
not forget to tell you that the parties have their different
places, “where, however, a Strariger is always well re-
ceived; but a Whig will ho more go to the Cocoa ‘Tree
or Ozinda’s: than a Tory will be seen at the coffee-
house of St. James’s.
“The Scots generally go to the British, and a mix-
ture of all sorts to the Smyrtia. There are other little
coffee-houses much frequetited i in this neighbourhood—
Youngman’s, for officers ; -Oldman’s, for “stock-jobbers,
paymasters, and courtiers 5 aud Littleman’s, for sharp-
ers. I never was so confounded in my life as when [
entered into this last; I saw two or three tables full at
faro, heard the box and dice rattling in the room above
stairs, and was Surrounded by a set of sharp faces that
+ Joumey through England, Scotland, ~ oe Austiian Ne-
therlands,’ by John “Macky, septs
“THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
1ounds, they join in full cry after him, and the land- .
od
(APRIL 15,
[ was’ afraid would Nave devoured the witn their eyes.
Iwas glad to drop two or three half-crowns at faro to
get off with a clear, skin, and was overjoyed I was so
got rid of them.
““ At two we penitrall is ro to tae Ordinaries are
not so common here as abroad, yet the French have set
— ome
till six, ‘then we 20 to "thie mee
“ Afier the play, the best company generally , eo to
Tom’s and Willis’s coffee-houses, near adjoining, where
there is playing at ‘ Picket’ and the best of conversa-
tion till midnight. Here yon will see blue and green
ribands and stars sitting familiarly with private rten-
tlemen, and talking with the same freedom as if they
had left their quality and degrees of distance at lome ;
and a stranger tastes with pleasure the universal liberty
of speech of the English nation. Or if voti like rather
the company of ladies, there are assen a at thlost
people of quality’s houses. And in the collee-
houses you have not only the foreign valle but several
English ones, with the foreign “ocenrrences, besides
papers of morality and party disputes.”
The celebrated Beefsteak Club, which still exists,
originated in an incidental circumstance in 1735.
Rich, the manager of Covent Garden Theatre, while
employei during the day in directing, arranging, and
otherwise preparing the scenery for his pantomimes at
night, was visited by a number of individnals, ‘all
anxious to Inspect the progress of is labours. On one
of these oceasions, the Earl of Peterborough having
lingered some time, Rich, without beitie disturbed by
his. presence, began to cook beefsteak for his own
dinner. The earl was invited to partike 5 | the enter-
tainment was renewed 4% week afterwards; when some
additional friends arrived to share the beefsteak with
Rich ;—and thus arose the Beefsteak Club. © This
association, during its long existence; appears to have
been peculiarly a i, assethbly of good fellows meeting
wilder certain,conditions.” ‘The author of ‘The Clubs
of London’ describes the first ocgasion on whicl, he
was present at a sitting of the club, in 1799. “{ do
not recollect,” he says, ‘ all who were present on that
day, but T remarked particularly John Pe o obb,
of the India House, His Royal Highness th e Duke
of Clarence [His present Majesty], Sir John Cox
Hippisley, Charles Morris, Ferguson of Aberdeen, aud
his Grace of Norfolk. 'This nobleman took the chair
when the cloth was removed. It isa place. of dignity,
elevated some steps above the table, and decorated
with the various insignia.of the society. amongst which
| was suspended the demitienl small cocked- ors in which
Garrick used to play the part of Ranger. As soon as.
the clock strikes five, a curtain bg Up. discovering
the kitchen, in which the cooks are dimly seen. plying
their several offices, through a sort of grating, with this
appropriate motto from © Macbeth? inscribed over it :—
‘If it were done when ’tis done, then *twere well
It were done quickly? ”
Dr. Johnson, in 1747, founded the King’s Head
Club, which net in Ivy chim > his well- knowh * Lite-
rary Club ” was founded in 1764. Amongst the meim-
bers of the latter are to be found the names of Burke,
Charles Fox, Lord Charlemont, Dr. Percy bishop of
Dromore, Sir Toshiia Reynolds, Sheridan, Gatrick,
Dunning, afterwards Lord Ashburton, Gibbon, Gold-
smith, &c., and Johnson himself. Bevel wy was
frequently present at the meetings of this clab, does
not appear to have felt himself warranted to record
what he had heard, probably viewing: it i In the lieht of
a breach of social confidetiee. He “only. On one occa- ’
sion, in his * Life of Johnson,’ ives a formal detail of
QQwt |.
US8%.3- : 3
any conversation that passed at the club’; and then he
disguises the speakers’ names by giving initials, except
his own and Johnson’s, which he gives in full.
Under the year 1781, Boswell thus narrates the
origin of the term blue stocking :— “ About this time it
was much the fashion for several ladies to have evening
assemblies, where the fair sex might participate in con-
versation with literary and ingenious men, animated by
a desire to please. These societies were denominated
Blue-stocking Clubs; the origin of which title being
little known, it may be worth while to relate it. One of
the most eminent members of those societies, when they
first commenced, was Mr. Stillingfleet, whose dress was
remarkably grave, and in particular it was observed
that he wore blue stockings. Such was the excellence
of his conversation, that his absence was felt as so great
a loss, that it used to be said, ‘We can do nothing
without the blue stockings !’ Thus, by degrees, the
title was established. Miss Hannah More has admi-
rably described a Blue Stocking Club in her ‘ Bas-
Bleu,’ a poem in which many of “the persons who were
most conspicuous there are mentioned.”
Boswell was termed by Johnson “a very clubable
man”—meaning, doubtless, a lively, vivacious person,
who made a capital listener, and was always ready to
bowl the conversation along by appropriate sugges-
tions. When they were on ‘their journey in Scotland,
Beyel says, “‘ | mentioned a club in London, at the
Boar’s Head in Eastcheap, the very tavern where Fal- |
staff and his joyous companions met; the members of
which all assume Shakspeare’s characters. One is Fal-
staff, another Prince Henry, another Bardolph, and so
on.’ Johnson.—** Don't be of it, Sir. Now that you
have a hame you must be careful to avoid many thing's,
not bad in themselves, but which will lessen your cha-
racter.” Boswell adds, in a note, ‘I do not see why [
Ini¢ht not have been of this club without lessening my
character.”
' In 1783, the year before Dr. Johnson died, he founded
a humbler association than the ‘‘ Literary labs ” Writ-
ing to Sir Joshua Reynolds, he says, “ It will be held
at the Essex Head, now kept by an old servant ef
Thrale’s. The company is numerous, and, as you will :
see by the list, miscellaneous. .The terms are lax, and
the expenses light. We meet thrice a week, and he
who inisses forfeits two-pence.” Prefixed to the rules
of the club, “‘ which,’ says Boswell, ‘‘ Johnson himself,
like his namesake, old Ben, composed,” was the quota-
tion from Milton :— ~ |
“To-day deep thoughts with me resolve to drench
In mirth, which after no repenting draws.”
. The Literary Clnb, called the “ King of Clubs,”
which used to meet at the Crown and Anchor in the
Strand, was established about the year 1801. Amongst |
its members have been Lord Holland, the present
Marquis of Lansdowne, Sir J. Scarlett (now Lord
Abinger), the late Sir James Mackintosh, and Lord
Iurskine, Mr. Rogers, the author of the ‘ Pleasures of
Memory, the late Mr. Sharpe, known as “ Con-
versation Sharpe,” &c. &c. The Club “sat on the
Saturday of each month, at the Crown and Anchor
Tavern, in the Strand, which at that time was a nest of
boxes, each containing its club. The club was a grand
talk. Every one deemed anxious to bring his ofa tains
tion of good sense or good humour, and diffused him-
self over books and authors, and the prevalent topics
of the day *.”
. What a change has a few years produced! ‘* Good
Eile.” may still meet in taverns and coffee-houses
under Dr. Johnson’s “certain conditions,’ but their
proceedings are unmarked, and unknown to any but
theinselves. ‘The word “‘ club ” has been carried: off by
a new species of association, which has produced a
great ‘refinement in the art of luxury. It has been
* © Clubs of London,’ vol. il, p. 160. o
|
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
pass the day as they please, reading or writing
singly or in company, join in conversation, Or ‘retreat
139
objected, that these societies are not “clubs,” in the
“ eood old English” acceptation. But it seems idle to
dispute the appropriation of the word—these associa-
tions are, emphatically, THe Ciuss or Lonpon. The
stranger ‘who walks along Pall-Mall, and turns up St.
James's Street, will pass a number of the finest bnild-
ings in the metropolis s—-these are “ Crus Hovsme.”
erected by the societies to which they belong, and ap-
propriated exclusively to their purposes. Three or four
of the clubs are avowedly political associations, admis-
sion to them being supposed to stamp the political
opinions and predilections of the members. Others
occupy neutral ground, where educated, literary, tra-
velled, and professional men are supposed to congre-
cate, without reference to particular notions or opinions.
What are termed “subscription” club-houses, are the
property of private individuals; and one or two of
these enjoy a rather equivocal reputation, being sUup-
posed to be frequented by those who are fond of oam-
bling. Ifthe exterior of the club-houses (in Pall- “Mall
especially) attract the eye by their architectural beau-
ties, no less will the interior please the visiter by the
elegance with which they are fitted up. Here the
members are in their own houses—they are ‘ at home,”
surrounded by the comforts and attention of a fashion-
able hotel. They can stroll down to their ‘f clubs,”
die
into a corner with the newspaper or the last ¢ Review.’
The members of these clubs are admitted by a ballot
election; they pay a certain sum as entrance- money,
and an annual subscription. The large number of
members of which generally each club is “com posed, the
eager competition which exists for filling ‘up vacancies’
as “they occur, the new clubs and the new club-houses
which are constantly springing up,—display, in a re-
markable manner, the power of combination and con-
centration. ‘The scene presented by Pall Mall and St..-
James’s Street cannot be matched ;—for nowhere in’
the world can be seen, in so short a time, so many
noble buildings devoted by associations of men _ to
their personal enjoyment, ¢ comfort, and convenience.
There are thirty-six principal clubs in London,
embracing, probably, not less than 20,000 members.
Of course some individuals may be members of several
clubs. ‘These clubs, too, are in addition to the great
number of literary and scientific associations in the
metropolis, of which we shall have occasion to speak
in treating of another class of London characteristics.
The following clubs are in Pali-Mall :—The Union, in
Trafalgar Square, Pall-Mall East; the University Club, -
for members of the universities of Cambridge and Ox-
ford—(a “ Junior University Club” house is erecting
just now, further on in Pall-Mall, nearly facing the
British Institution) ; the Atheneum; the United Ser-
vice, for officers—(the Junior United Service is in
Charles Street, St. James’s Square); the Travellers’; the
Carlton; and the Reform Club. In St. James’s Street
there are Boodle’s Club, White’s Club, the St. Jaines’s,
and the Junior St. James’s; the West India Club,
Brookes’s, the Cocoa Tree Club, Arthur’s, the Albion,
Graham’s, and ‘Crockford’s. In St. James's Square,
which lies inclosed between Pall-Mall and the east end of
Piccadilly, there are the Wyndham Club and the Parthe-
non. The Clarence and the Clarendon are in Waterloo
Place, close by Pall-Mall; the Oriental is in Hanover
Square; the Portland in Stafford Place, Oxford Street ;
the Royal Naval in New Bond Street’; the Alfred in
Albemarle Street; and the ‘* Cercle des Etraneéres’ ” in
Regent Street. Proceeding eastwards, we find that the
Westminster Chess Club hold their meetings at No. LOL
in the Strand; the Garrick Club in King Street, Co-
‘vent Garden; the City Conservative ‘in "Tinton duce
Street-; and the City of London Club has ¢ a handsome
club-house in Broad’ Street,
. 20
140
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
PORTSMOUTH.
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[Entrance to the Harbour. ]
Tuat part of the sea-coast of Hampshire which faces
the north-east and the north coast of the Isle of Wight
appears considerably fractured, especially when com-
pared with the smoother outline of the sea-coast of
the adjoining county of Sussex. Between Sussex and
Hampshire there is an extensive and irregular curva-
ture, in which lie the islands of ‘Thorney and Hayling,
with others of inferior dimensions; west of this is the
deep indentation forming Portsmouth Harbour; and
farther west, rnnning up ina north-westerly direction,
is the inlet called Southampton Water. ‘The celebrated
roadstead called Spithead, which, from its safety and
capaciousness, has been termed by sailors * the king’s
bedchamber,” occupies the channel between the north
of the Isle of Wight and that part of Hampshire which
contains Portsmouth Harbour. :
- The mouth of the entrance of Portsmouth Harbour
is very nearly two miles wide—that is, between Fort
Monckton, on the west, and South Sea Castle, on the
east. Higher up, above Fort Monckton, is the well-
known Haslar Hospital, a royal endowment for sick
and wounded seamen. The building is surrounded by
a high wall, nearly a mile in circumference, and has a
frontage of 570 feet, with wings, each 550 feet long:
this building can afford accommodation to 2000 pa-
tients. Within the inclosure is a chapel, and build-
ings for the officers. The entrance of the harbour
becomes narrower, and forms a channel or strait,
about a mile and a half in length, and varying from
half a nile to less than a quarter in breadth, and
across this part of the entrance an iron boom was
formerly stretched. On the west side of this strait,
above Haslar Hospital, is the town of Gosport, sur-
rounded with fortifications ;—on the east side, opposite,
are the towns of Portsmouth and Portsea (they are, in
fact, one town, for all practical purposes), with the
spacious dockyard, and all the accompaniments, of the
chief naval arsenal of Great Britain. On _ passing
through the channel, the harbour expands into a mag-
nificent basin, or rather lake. Here, it is said, the
greater part of the navy of this greatest of naval coun-
tries could lie in perfect safety, Portsmouth Harbour
is the finest in Great Britain, with the exception of
Milford Haven, in Pembrokeshire, which, from its
position, has not been so much used. Portsmouth
Harbour, lying on the south coast of England, and
within seventy miles of London, has been rendered
the chief seat of our navy, though Chatham, in more
recent years, has shared with it, and even approached
it in some respects. ‘
The natural advantages of Portsmouth Harbour,
which appears as if it were carved out for a naval
depot, would direct attention to it from an early period.
The harbour appears to have been the “ Portus Magnus”
of the Romans during their occupation of Britain: not
far from the present Portsmouth was probably a town
or station, which lay over against ‘‘ Vectis,” now the Isle
of Wight. There is an entry in the Herald’s books, in
the College of Arms, which affirms that Henry I., in
the sixth year of his reign (1106), incorporated the
inhabitants under the title of “‘ Approved men of Ports-
mouth.” A great number of charters were granted by
successive monarchs, from Richard I. down to Charles II,
The town of Portsmouth was burned by the French,
before the reign of Edward IV., but it recovered, and
that king commenced the fortifications of the place,
which have ever since been kept up, improved, and ex-
tended. The town is mentioned among the other towns
in the eighteenth of Henry VIII. (1540), “ For Re-
edifying of Townes,” as having contained “ in tymes
past divers and many beautifull honses of habitacion”
within its walls, which had ‘fallen downe decayed, and
at this day remaine unre-edified, and doo lye as desolate
and vacante grounds, and many of them nygh adjoining
to the high streets, replennyshed with much unclenness
and filth, with pittes, sellers, and vaultis, lying open
and uncoverid, to the great peril and danger of the in-
habitants.” These expressions are applied, not exclu-
sively to Portsmouth, but to all the towns mentioned in
the act—they mark an era in the history of the country.
Since the establishment of the navy of England, Ports-
mouth has ever been an important place, and flourished
as that arm of our power flourished, partaking incall its
| vicissitudes.
1837.)
THE PENNY MAGAZINE
141
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Portsea is the new town and Portsmouth the old
town of the municipal and parliamentary borough of
Portsmouth. The parliamentary borough consists of
the whole parishes of Portsmouth and Portsea, and
returns two members. The population in 1801 was
33,226; in 1811 it had increased to 40,567; in 1821
it was 45,648; and in 1831, 50,389. The borough
and country round it, depend, of course, much ‘upon
the great naval establishments existing within their
limits for their support. The municipal borough is
divided, under the Municipal Corporations Reforin Act,
into seven wards, with fourteen aldermen, and forty-
two councillors.
Portsmouth felt severely the decline of business on
the termination of the war in 1815. The injury has
not been a permanent one; but even if it had, it could
not be put in the balance with the enormous advan-
tages which the entire nation has derived, amid alter-
nations of trade, and commercial and political fluctua-
tions, during the last twenty years of peace. ‘* If,”
say the Boundary Commissioners, in their Report on
Portsmouth, “‘ the present prosperity of the place be
compared with its prosperity in time of war, it may be
considered as diminished; but if it be compared ‘with
periods of peace, it cannot be considered on the decline.”
The Municipal Commissioners who inspected the place
about three years ago are more decided in their expres-
sion of opinion. ‘They say, “ The prosperity of the
town is considered to have depended mainly upon the
excitement produced by the war, and to have declined
much since the termination of it. We are of opinion
that this notion is at any rate exaggerated. The popu-
lation has been steadily upon the increase, and although
one very important excitement to trade has subsided,
others appear to have been created. The port is visited
by six steam-vessels, some of which go and return seve-
ral times in the day; besides others which touch here
in their passage to other places. In the last ten years
the import oi coal has increased 30 per cent. ‘There is
a large import of cattle from the West of England and
the Isle of Wight’; 50,000 sheep have been brought in
in a single year.
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- [Lion Gate, Portsea. |
brought hither, and wine is imported directly from the
continent. More horses and carriages are kept than
formerly. It is, however, said, that the new houses
which are built are on a smaller scale than the old ones,
and that profits are much reduced. In the last ten
years of the war the average annual number of poor-
rates was ten; in the ten years preceding the present
it was twelve; last year (1833) there were sixteen
rates. There are few persons of large fortune; the
property is considered to be more equally distributed
here than elsewhere.”
Portsmouth and Portsea are inclosed by strong’ for-
tifications, and the sea-coast on each side of the mouth
of the harbour is lined with batteries. The fortifica-
tions extend in a semicircle round the town on the land
side, forming a fine terrace, in some parts shaded with
trees, and affording a variety of extensive and beautiful
views. ‘There are several grand entrauce gateways.
The dockyard is in Portsea: it is the lar@est in the
kingdom. It has a sea-wharf wall, which extends
alone the shore of the harbour 3500 feet; the mean
breadth of the dockyard is about 2000 feet, and if
covers upwards of 100 acres. It is entered from the
town by a gateway, and may be visited by strangers
without any formal introduction. The great basin has
its entrance in the centre of the wharf-wall; it is two
acres and a half in area, 380 feet in length, and 260 feet
in breadth; four dry docks open into this basin, and on
each side is another dry dock, all capable of receiving
first-rate ships. Besides these, there is a double dock
for frigates. There are also six building-slips, two of
which are capable of receiving the largest vessels. The
dockyard contains a royal naval college, a handsome
building for a school of naval architecture (recently esta -
blished), the Port Admiral’s house, ranges of storehouses
and workshops for almost every article required in ship-
building, a smithy, an iron and a copper-mill, a copper
refinery, and wood-mills, where every article of turnery
requisite for naval purposes is made. The ropery is
three stories high, 54 feet broad, and 1094 long.
There are two hemp-houses, and two sea-store liouses,
which occupy a line of building 800 feet in length;
142
the other storehouses are on the same scale. Here is
Brunel’s celebrated blockmaking machinery, a duplicate
of which is kept at Chatham, ready to be used, should
that at Portsmouth ever get out of order. The gun-
wharf consists of numerous and various ranges of build-
ings for the reception of guns, and all kinds of naval
ammunition.
The workmen employed in Portsmouth dockyard are
block-makers, braziers and tinmen, caulkers, carpenters,
locksmiths, painters and elaziers, plumbers, sail-makers,
sawyers, shipwrights, smiths, rope-makers, wheelwrichts,
workmen at wood-mills, at metal, &c., and labourers’ em-
ployed in various departments. Convicts are employed
at Portsmouth, as at other dockyards belonging to the
naval service. Mr. Farr, in his article on Vital Statis-
tics, in ‘M‘Culloch’s Statistical Account of the British
Eimpire,’ gives some interesting deductions from a table
of the number of workmen employed i in the dockyard,
ancl uf the cases of absence from work on account of
sickness for the three years preceding 1833. In a
tabular form these deductions are as follows :—
Average number Number of Cases.
Years, of men. Diseases. Hurts.
1830 |. . GG: =... . "om
1831 WA Bie) ee Be aes
1882... Tae ew 1 gh ee
The days of sickness from spontaneous disease amounted,
during the three years, to 27,410, and the days of sick-
ness from injuries to 15,590—total in the three years
43,000. ‘*This table,’ says Mr. Farr, ‘‘ furnishes, as
the mean of the three years, the following interesting
results. In the year, one man in six ts seriously hurt ;
two in five fall ill. Each man, on an-average, has an
attack of illness, either spontaneous or caused by ex-
ternal injury, every two years; and, at an average, each
disease lasts fourteen days. In a tabular form the
results will be more distinctly ‘perceptible. Annual
proportion of attacks and accidents occurring to 100
men in the Portsmouth dockyard, and the mean dura-
tion of each case :—
Duration ofeach
case in Days.
dda,
15°6
13°9
: No. per cent.
spontaneous attacks . . 37°8 . . .
Piyeies” ee ro: @ me.
Both. —-. « Beer. es >
Thus, out of a 100 men, 53°6 are annually laid up for
a time from disease or injury, and the mean duration of
each case of illness in days is 13°9.
There have been several accidents by fire both to
shipping in the harbour of. Portsmouth, and to the
dockyard. In 1776 an incendiary, named John Aitkin,
commonly called “‘ Jack the Painter,’ was the means of
burning the rope-houses and other buildings. He was
tried and execnted for the crime. ’
By means of the semaphore telegraph, communica-
tions can be conveyed between the Admiralty, in Lon-
don, and Portsmonth, in five minutes. The mail runs
in nine hours and ten minutes.
There is “nothing” remarkable in Portsmouth and
Portsea, if we except the fortifications, dockyard, &c.
Portsmouth parish-church is a large ancient building.
In the western suburb is the custom- house—the o'rOSs
receipt of customs duties in 1834 was 55,1731. ; ‘and i in
1835, 51,8871. The parish- church of Portsea is two
mee from the town: there are a number of chapels of
ease and dissenting- chapels i in Portsea and Portsmouth.
Among the more remarkable events in ‘the history of
the place uray be mentioned the assassination of George
pec Duke of Buckingham, by Felton, on the 24th
f August, 1628; and the marrage of Charles IL.
whi ch Took place in the garrison chapel.
_ Gosport contains a population (7000 in 1831) very
similarly occupied to that of Portsmouth. It has been
benefited by the Temoyal of the victualling establish- a martyr to phe disease himself,
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
[Aprrp 15,
ment to it from Portsmouth, which took place a few
years ago. ‘The town is locked in on the land side by
fortifications, and adjoining it are a variety of Govern-
ment works for the supply of the navy, with extensive
barracks.
4 t
oa eo ne ee
DIET
[Continued from 1 No. 322. j
ON THE VARIOUS ARriCcLEs OF ORDINARY Diet.
Animal Food.—All the ordinary varieties of animal
| food may be eaten by persons in robust health; but as
mr Sh A SR SPP SE ‘llth SSSR = fig SP rp PS- S-=afthehn=—h SS US aSa c-Si si a eg ee Pa,
>.
this class of eaters is unfortunately not a very large one’
(especially in large towns), it becomes a point of oreat
Interest to settle the precedency of goodness among
articles of food, and to decide which may he given to
the most queasy stomachs.
Mutton and Beef.—It has always been asserted, and
we think with justice, that beef and mutton are of more
easy digestion than veal and lamb ;—a circumstance
which may depend partly on natural causes, and partly
on the absurd custom of whitening the flesh of the
younger animals by repeated bleedings, which neces-
sarily induce a morbid state of the musclés, or, in other
words, of the meat.
We must observe, too, that delicate stomachs manage
mutton much better ‘ben beef; the latter, at fone
when roasted, being rather rach, as the phrase is. The
robust, on the other hand, seem to derive more nourish-
ment from beef than from mutton; and a celebrated
trainer made a distinction between “ beef-eaters ’ and
‘‘ sheep-biters,”’ as he called them. The loin of beef, it
may be added, has received the honour of kuighthood,
and is styled the “ sirloin :
‘ Our second Charles of fame facete,
On loin of beef did dine ;
He held his sword, pleas’d, o’er the meat,
‘Arise, thou famed Sir Loin 1?”
Ballad of the new Su John Barley ycorn.
Poyk is certainly less digestible than the preceding
meats, and must be shunned ‘by valetudinarian stomachs.
It is said that when Fuseli wished to enrich his pic-
tures with grotesque or horrible fantasies, he was ‘wont
to sup on about three pounds of half- dressed pork-
chops™*. |
Galen, however, stands up for the digestibility. of
pork, aud maintains that of all aliments it nourishes
the most, because it is of good juice and easy dig estion ;
and it is digestible, as vel for other reasons, as for 1K
similarity to hnman flesh.
This faney of Galen’s is curiously confirmed by a pas-
sage in the ‘ Romance of Coeur de Lion.’ On recover-
ing from an ague in Syria, King Richard longed vi0-
lently for pork, and as this was not to be procured, an
old knight recommended the substitution of Saracen’ S
flesh. ‘This was done with the most perfect success.
The good- humoured monarch did not discover the im-
position till he called for
“ “ The head of that ilk swine
That I ‘of ate—”, :
and then he testified surprise rather than displeasure.
Our readers will find the verses at considerable length
in Meg Dods' s ‘Cookery Book,’ art. * To Broa. Pork
Cuors.’
At the veterinary school of Alfort, in France, pigs
are fed upon horseflesh, which gave rise to a discussion
not ue since, as to ‘the wholesomeness of the resulting
* Most readers would be more thankful for a receipt to pre-
a than tv produce, the night-mare; and we will therefore ob-
serve that Dr. Strahl, a Prussian physician, who has written an
octavo of 253 pages on the subject, says that the best remedy .is
chamomile tea. The infusion must be very weak and very hot ;
but hot water cannot be substituted for it. The doctor had been
1837.] | '
pork. A commission was appointed to Ti eshaate the |
subject, and they decided that the pork was wliolesome.
Bacon has long formed a considerable portion of the
food of husbandmen } in this country, and seems unob-
jectionable for men working hard in the open air,
though not to be recommended (except as an occa-
sional condiinent) to those of sedentary habits. Cob-
bett’s enthusiasm in favour of bacon is well known ;
the fatter the better: : lean bacon, he says, 1s goo only
for drunkards, to stimulate their jaded appetites ; and
the man who cannot eat fat bacon is fit only for an
hospital. From bacon we are naturally led to salted
meat in general, and its influence on health.
. Mutton, as well as beef, was formerly salted in im-
mense quantities in this country, and was the common
food of those who got any meat at all, during the
winter months. ~Thns we find that when the insurgent
barons ravaged the estates of the elder Spenser in the
reign of Edward II., he had an enormous quantity of
salt meat in his larder ; in the words of Hume, ‘* Before
I conclude this reien, I cannot forbear making another
remark, drawn from the detail of losses given in by the
elder Spenser ;, particularly the great, quantity of salted
meat which he had in his larder, 600 bacons, 80 car-
casses of beef, 600 muttons. We may observe that the
outrage of which he complained began after the 3rd of
May, or the Lith, (new style,) as we Tea from the same
paper. It is easy, therefore, to conjecture what a vast
store of the same kind he must have laid up at the be-
ginning of winter; and we may draw a new conclusion
with reeard to the Wretched state of ancient husbandry,
which could not provide suusisience for the cattle during
Winter, even in such a temperate climate as the south
of England ; for Spenser had but one manor so far
north as Yorkshire. There being few or no inclosnres,
except perhaps for deer, no sown grass, little hay, and
no other resource of feeding cattle ; the barons, as well
as thie people, were obheed to kill and salt their oxen
and sheep in the beginning of winter, before they be-
came ledn upon the coilimon pasture—a precaution
still practised with regard to oxen in the least culti-
vated parts of this. island., The salting of mutton is a
miserable expedient, which has ev ery where: been lone
disused. From this ciréumstaiice, however trivial in
appearance, may be drawn iinportant inferences with
regard to the domestic economy and manner of life in
those ages.”
The “ miserable expedient ” of salting mutton seems
to have struck Cobbett’s fancy, as he declares his inten-
tion of making flitches of ‘‘ sheep-bacon*;’ but we
do not find it recorded that he attually put his threat
ito execution. He disapproves of salting the shoulders
and leas. |
Nor had things improved much in this respect two
centuries afterwards ; : for in the. abstract of the ‘ Nor-
thumberland Honsehold Book,’ given by Hume, we
find that “ One hundred aiid iiine fat beeves are to be
bought at Allhallow-tide at thirteen shilliigs and fot-
pence a-piece ; and twenty-four lean beeves to be bought
at St. Helen’s at eight shillings a-piece ; these are to
be put into the pastures to feed : and are to serve froin
Midsuinmer to. Michaelmas, which j is consequently the
only time that the family eais fresh beef’:
the rest of the year they.live on salted meat.
Six hundred and forty-seven sheep are allowed, at
twenty-pelice a-piece; and these seem also to be all eat
salted, except betweén Liainitiids and Michaelmas.” a
Nousehald Book was drawn up in 1512.
The scurvy, now almost or quite confined to seamen,
was then one of the cornmonest diseases on land; and
may justly be attributed, as well as the leprosy, to the
salt meat, and want of vewetables.
atl Cottage ip Lconumy,’ ‘§ a7.
* % ®
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
a NN
during all.
143
Mateer has lately given an account of the bad
affects produced among the poor of Belfast, by the
coustant, use of salted provisions.
Pouliry. —On this subdivision but little need be said.
Turkeys and fowls are excellent food: so are oeese and
ducks, but not for weak stomachs. Dr. Stark found
six troy ounces of roasted goose, with thirty of bread,
and three pints of water, to be one of his best diets ; he
says, “in every respect I was hearty and vigorous, both
in body and mind.” (p. 112.) The stuffing “of sage and
onions usually eaten with geese and ducks, Is particu-
larly obnoxious to feeble stomachs.
Game.—Most if not all of the foods commonly classed
under this head are wholesome and easily digested.
Perhaps hare should be sparingly used by the valetudi-
narian, as well as the fat of venison. Bnrton, in his
‘Anatomy of Melancholy,’ classes the hare among
ineats to be shunned by the melancholic.
We do not agree with Dr. Kitchener, who says of
the pheasant that its rarity 1s its best recommendation :
the high price which it has maintained in our markets
for several centuries, is no small proc of its intrinsic
excellence. Echard mentions in his ‘ History of Eng-
land,’ that in 1299 the price of a pheasant was a
pence; in the * Northumberland Household Book’
is directed that pheasants are to be bought at a shilling
a piece, while two-pence only is to be given for a
partrid@e; aud in some regulations for the markets in
London in the early part of Charles I.’s reign, it is
ordered that a cock pheasant is to be sold for six shil-
lings, and a hen pheasant for five *.
Fish forms an agreeable variety of diet, but a bad
staple food. If fresh, it might be eaten twice a week
iustead of meat; but if salted, once would be enough,
and more than enough. The proclamations of Mcen
Elizabeth on_ this point (giv en in Hailam’s ‘ Constitu-
tional History of England’) are very curions. She
wished to encourage the fisheries, and diminish the too
rapid consumption of meat, and, at the same time,
avoid the imputation of leaning to Catholicism. She
therefore threatens with her severe displeasure all who
shall attribute her injunctions to any but politico-
economical motives.
Fish is often recommended to convalescenis from
febrile diseases, as being much less stimulating than
(ete LT, och cases, hower er, a selection of tlie most
digestible fish must be made ; for salmon, eels, or shell-
fish would be more likely to do harm than muiton or
beef. Oysters, like other fish, should be scrupulously
shunned during the months that they are out of season.
The rule is, that oysters are out of season diring the
months that have no 7 in their name; but there is an
exception in favour of the last tiventy-six days of
Angust.
Of all fish, however, in these climates, mussels are
the most suspicious, not to say dangerous. Dr. Chiisti-
son says, “‘ OF fislies which are commonly nutritive, but
which sometimes acq mire poisonous . properties,” by fur
the most remarkable is the common Mussel. Oppor-
tunities have often occurred for observing its effects,—
so often, indeed, that its occasional poisonous qualities
have become al important topic of medical police; and
in Some parts, as in the neighbourhood of Edinburgh
and Leith, it has of late been abandoned by many
people as an article of food, although generally relished,
and in most circumstances undoubtedly safe. This
result originated in an “accident which happened at
Leith in 1827, and by which no fewer than thirty
people were severely affected, and two killed 7.”
A remarkable case, which terminated fatally, occurred
in London in 1833, Shad is narrated by Dr. ie T homp-
* Hume. s
m ¢ Treatise on Poisoiis, p. 462.
T44
son in the ‘Medical Quarterly Review’ (vol. iii., p.
179 et seq.). Though the patient was closely questioned
as to his diet during the week preceding his illness, he
did not mention anything likely to produce the symp-
toms; and it was not known until after his death that
he had eaten mussels. Had the poor man known that
mussels are a suspicious food, and mentioned them
accordingly, it is probable that the termination of the
case would have been differeut.
Fish will not sit easily on certain delicate stomachs
without the assistance of some stimulus, as cayenne
pepper, or wine; and hence, in Swift's ‘* Polite Con-
versations, where every witticism, as he tells us, is
sanctioned by the usage of at least a century, when
one of the speakers observes, that fish should swim
thrice, and another asks, ‘‘ How is that?” he replies,
‘“‘ First, in the sea; secondly, in butter; thirdly, in
eood claret.”
Milk and Butter have in all ages been among the
most favourite articles of nutriment. ‘“ He asked
water, and she gave him milk; she brought forth
butter in a lordly dish*.’ Milk, in particular, has
been panegyrized equally by the philosopher and the
inerely practical man. . Dr. Prout having observed that
milk, which is absolutely furnished by nature as food,
was essentially composed of three ingredients, viz., sac-
charine, oily, and albuminous or curdy matter, was by
degrees led to the conclusion that all the alimentary
matters employed by man and the more perfect animals |
might‘be reduced to the same three general heads.
He thinks it probable that a mixture of two at least, if
not of all three, of the classes of nutriment Is necessary ;
aud goes on to say,—‘‘ But it is in the artificial food
of man that we see this great principle of mixture most
strongly exemplified. He, dissatisfied with the pro-
ductions spontaneonsly furnished by Nature, calls from
every source, and by the power of his reason, or rather
his instinct, forms in every possible manner, and under
every disguise, the same great alimentary compound.
This, after all his cooking and art, how much soever he
may be inclined to disbelieve it, is the sole object of
his labour; and the more nearly his results approach
to this, the more nearly they approach perfection.
Thus, from the earliest times, instinct has taught him
to add oil or butter to farinaceous substances, such as
bread, and which are naturally defective in this principle.
The same instinct has taught him to fatten animals,
with the view of procuring the oleaginous in conjunc-
tion with the albuminous principle, which compound
he finally consumes, for the most part in conjunction
with saccharine matter, in the form of bread or vege-
tables. Even in the utmost refinements of his luxury,
and in his choicest delicacies, the same great principle
is attended to ;—and his sugar and flour, his eggs and
butter, in all their various forms and combinations, are
nothing more or less than disguised imitations of the
great alimentary prototype, mt/k, as presented to him
by Nature.”
Now hear the truly practical man :—“ As to the use
of milk, and of that which proceeds from milk, in a
family, very little need be said. At a certain age, bread
and milk are all that a child wants. Ata later age
they furnish one meal a day for children. Milk is, at
all seasons, good to drink. In the making of pud-
dings, and in the making of bread, too, how useful is
it! et any one who has eaten none but baker’s bread
for a good while taste bread home-baked, mixed with
milk instead of with water; and he will find what the
difference is. ‘There is this only to be observed, that
in hot weather bread mixed with milk will not keep so
long as that mixed with water. It will, of course, turn
sour sooner.
* Judges v, 26,
THE PENNY MAGAZINE. :
fAprin 15, 1837,
** Before I quit the uses to which milk may be put,
let me mention, that, as mere drink, it is, unless, per-
haps, in case of heavy labour, better, in my opinion,
than any beer, however good. I have drinked little
else for the last five years, at any time of the day—
Skim-milk, I mean *.”
This popular writer in another place expresses great
indignation against those rakish persons for whom milk
is too heavy. Nevertheless, it too often happens in
large towns, that people quite guiltless of excess are
unable to digest large quantities of milk. An eminent
physician-accoucheur lately informed us of a case where
a young child, after some days’ suffering, brought up a
piece of hardened curd, which was at first mistaken for
a fish; nay, more, he had found even soldiers inca-
pable of digesting this aliment. So much does habit
change even the instinctive faculties of nature! -In
England cow’s milk is almost exclusively used; but
that of the goat is very tolerable, and often supplies its
place on shipboard. In some parts of Germany she-
goats are found to make excellent wet-nurses, and trot
to their foster-children on hearing their cries with
admirable readiness. : ——_
Asses’ milk is chiefly prized as a remedy for con-
sumptive patients; it is said to be the nearest to human
milk. The high price mentioned in the. following ad-’
vertisement would seem to show that it was'in great
vogue in the beginning of the last century -—‘ Asses’
milk to be had at Richard Stout’s,’ at the sign, of the
Ass, at Knight’s-bridge, for three shillings. and ‘six-
pence per quart; the ass to be brought tu the buyer's
door f.”’ —_— ———
' ™ Cobbett’s ‘Cottage Economy,’ § 111 & 113. -
t ‘ Post Boy, December 6,171]. ° .. :
[To be continued.? pp ody L :
Far of Nijnet Novgorod.—Since the publication of the
account ‘of this fair, in No. 321, we have received a copy of
the ‘ Northern Bee,’ a Russian journal; which contains the
following official statement of merchandise brought to N ijnei
Novgorod from 1825 to 1836 :— sy
~ Rubles, Ae ~ Rubles. |
1825 . . . 46,845,829[1831 . . 98,329,525
1826. . . 47,932,545 | 1832 . . 116,893,306
1827. . «© 982,4009926 | 18335 . Jy eeso5
1828 . «© e of,0/ 1,599) Toeee, on 107,693,395
1829. . . d&0;,104;971 | T3350 ee 119,193,310
1830 . « « 91,281,940] 1836 . « 118,000,000 estimate
This statement, it will be seen, varies from the amount given
for 1829 in the former article; but that, as we have there
said, was only the estimate of M. Bussiére. The same
journal states that the Emperor Nicholas visited the fair of
1836, and distributed presents. He ordered at the same
time that a building should be constructed for the residence
of the governor upon the hill, from whence a fine view of
the confluence of the two rivers is obtained. It is said,
also, that a canal is in progress, to facilitate the carriage of
heavy goods from the market to the river.
Reading.—At no period were there ever more books read
by that part of our population most qualified to draw delight
and good from reading; and when we enter mechanics’
libraries, and see them filled with simple, quiet, earnest men,
and find such men now sitting on stiles in the country, deeply
sunk into the very marrow and spirit of a well-handled vo-
lume, where we used to meet them in riotous and reckless
mischief, we are proud and happy to look forward to that
wide and formerly waste field, over which literature is extend-
ing its triumphs, and to see the beneficent consequences that
will follow to the whole community.— William Howitt.
*,* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledye is at
29, Lincoln’s Inn Fields.
LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT & CO., 22, LUDGATE STREET,
Printed by WiLu1am CLowes and Sons, Stamford Street.
HE PENNY MAGAZINE
OF THE
society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge.
ee ay SE Se
324.1
min oa
PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY.
[ArriL 22, 1837,
BRITISH FISHERIES.—No. m.
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[Salmon Spearing. |
Tue family of the salmon and trout (Salmonide@) is
one of the most interesting classes of British fishes, but
at present our attention will be confined to the common
salmon (Salmo salar). The herring, the pilchard, or
the mackerel, may be appropriated by any who please
to direct their attention to their capture; but the case
is different with rerard to the salmon, the right of im-
propriation originating in its peculiar habits. ‘The pre-
servation of these rights has long been the object of
levislative enactments, and an error on a point of natu-
ral history may be the means of rendering the protec-
tive law useless or oppressive. There has, therefore,
been every stimulus which arises out of personal in-
terest to study the most intimate habits of the salmon,
and yet the facts which have been ascertained are weak-
ened to such an extent by local differences, that legis-
lation is still at fault upon the question of protection.
The great point of difference between the salmon
and the fishes which have hitherto been noticed is,
thant while the latter reside exclusively in the ocean,
the salmon is an inhabitant both of fresh and salt
water. The salmon, as Izaak Walton truly says, is
accounted the “‘ king of fresh-water fish;’? and with
regard to its peculiar habit, it is quaintly remarked by
the good old angler, that ‘‘he has, like some persons
of honour and riches which have both their winter and
Vou. VI.
summer residences, the fresh rivers for summer and the
salt-water for winter, to spend his life in.” The fish |
seems to undergo a periodical alteration which fits it
for a change in the quality of its native element; and
the manner in which its habits are thus adapted to the
two extremes of fresh water aud the water of the ocean,
which is at once fatal to other fish, is a proof of the
wonderful powers of modification which are exercised
not only in man, but, in this instance, in the inferior
objects of creation: A salt-water fish, which is not
acted upon by this modifying power, if put into fresh
water, would suffer as mach as an animal partially de-
prived of air, its motions becoming agitated, its respi-
ration affected, and death ensuing in a very short space
of time. The same effects may be witnessed on placing
a fresh-water fish in salt water. ‘There have been at-
tempts made, by rendering the change gradual, to adapt
the constitution of fishes to a different quality of its
proper element; but such experiments are curious ra-
ther than useful, and if they succeeded the fish would
doubtless become deteriorated as au article of food. It
is generally better to co-operate with nature than to
thwart her plans.
The salmon is a northern fish, and is not found fur-
ther south than in some of the rivers on the western
coasts of France. In America it ascends the St. Law-
U
146
rence, and enters the tributary streams of Lake Ontario; :
but its progress within the United States is arrested by
the Falls of the Niagara. Gesner, a natnralist of the
early part of the sixteenth century, observed that “there
was no better salmon than in Eneland;” and Izaak
Walton states, that “though some of our northern
countries have as laree and-as fat as the river Thames,
yet none are of so excellent a taste.’ Owing to the
progress of population and the extension of manufac-
tures, the salmon rivers in England are far less pro-
ductive than formerly. A ‘Thames salmon is now rarely
seen, and the rivers of the north of iéngland, as well as
those of the west, though they have not declined to the |
same extent as the Thames, or the Avon in Hampshtre,
are not now of much commercial importance. The
case is different in Scotland, the principal supply of
salmon being derived from.the Tay, the ‘weed, the
Dee, the Don, and most of the streams along the coast.
The salmon rivers in Treland are the Erne, the Moy,
the Bann, the Blackwater, the Shannon, nigh nearly all
the principal streams along the northern and western
coasts.
In the summer salmon inhabit the sea or the mouths
of rivers, which they ascend in autumn for the purpose
of depositing their spawn. ‘They do not return to the
sea until the spring, after having completed this task.
It has been ascertained by experiments that the ova of
salmon will not become productive in still water. They
mnst be deposited in a clear gravelly bed, where there
is a strone running current; and towards the head of
the streain, where the temperature of the water is least
variable, is the best adapted for the purpose. The
salmon wil] make extraordinary efforts to reach the
upper portion of large rivers, or they will diverge in
their course up its tributary streams, the female fish
being the first to make the ascent. ‘The migration
does not take place immediately on the fish leaving the
but they advance up the river as far perhaps as
the tide-way is felt, and when the ebb takes place, again
descend to the mouth of the river. By thus remaining
partly in salt and partly in fresh water they are probably
better prepared for a long continuance in the latter.
Ou first coming from the sea the salmon is infested
with a parasitic animal, which it soon loses; and it has
been thought that the annoyance which it experiences
was the means of directing the fish into clear water,
its movements are doubtless caused by an instinctive
feeling of much more importance, and this is the more
likely as the lerneea salmonea does not fasten itself
upon the sensible parts. After long continuance in the
river, the salmon is attacked by a prs - mageot, of
which it gets rid soon after it enters the s in the one
ease the fresh, and in the other the ag water being
noxious to the parasiéi. The precise pericd at which
the salnion- enters the river does not appear to depend
entirely upon the state of the ova, for while some fish
proceed far up the river, the roe of others is in so mature
astate that they can advance but half way, and others
are compelled to seek out a suitable place in the
shallows nearer its mouth. The great majority, how-
ever, as they get full of roe, ascend beyond the tide-
way, after a short continuance in the brackish water,
and push on towards the sources of the stream, over-
coming impediments which might be thonght insur-
mountable, They will clear rapids or weirs which are
elolit or ten feet in height, and though at first baffled
in their efforts, resume the attempt with surprising
vigour. Sometimes they overshoot or mistake their
mark and throw themselves upon dry land. ‘Though
they seldom spring out of the water more than ten feet,
they have been known to descend a fall of the height of
thirty feet; and to leap over a dry rock of considerable
height and drop into the water on the other side. ‘There
is a fall on the Beauly, in Invernesshire, where, accord-
TOE PENNY MAGAZINE.
but’
[APRIL 22,
ing to Mr. Mudie, in the ‘ British Naturalist,’ the sight
of a voluntarily cooked salmon has been witnessed. A
kettle, 1t 1s said, was placed npon the flat rock on the
south side of the fall, close by the edge of the water,
and kept full and boiling until a salmon fell into the
kettle and was cooked on the spot. ‘This fall is said to
be literally thronged with salmon endeavouring to pass
higher up the river. It is an old opinion, and still very
cenerally entertained, that previous to making a spring
the fish curves its body and puts its tail in its mouth,
Michael Drayton, in his °Polyolbion,’ alluding to a
salmon-leap in the Tivy, has adopted this opinion :—
“ Ffere, when the labouring fish does at the foot arrive,
And finds that by his strength he does but vainly strive ;
His tail takes in his mouth, and bending like a bow
That ’s to full compass Hnaali aloft himself doth throw ;
Then Springing at his height, as doth a little wand,
That’s bended end to end, and started from man’s hand,
Far off itself doth cast ;—so does the salmon vault.”
The fact, however, has been ascertained by observation,
that salmon spring up nearly in a perpendicular line,
aud with a strong tremulous motion. When a pair of
salmon have reached a favourable place in the shallow
water, they proceed, generally in the morning or in the
evening twilight, to make a furrow with their noses in the
gravel, working against the stream; for if they moved
in the opposite direction, the water wonld enter their
cills and ‘drown’ them. Into this furrow the spawn
is deposited, the process occupying from eight to twelve
days. ‘The Jaw of the male becomes hard, and grows
like a horny substance, previous to the breeding season :
it is thus enabled to form the spawning-bed, “which is
from eighteen to twenty inches deep in the hard gravel.
Pennant says, that the tail is used to cover the ova with
oravel, as after spawning it is observed to have no skin
on that part. ‘The fish afterwards retire to some nei¢h-
bouring pool to recruit themselves. In a fortnight or
three weeks afterwards the male fish descends the stream,
the female being the last to leave, as it is the first to
reach, the spawnine-ground. ‘The female fish some-
times does not depart “until the ova are nearly hatched.
They are from 17,060 to 20,000 in number, according
to an experiment made by boiling the roe and count-
Ing as many as would fill a certain measure, the rest
deine subsequently estimated. Fora short time, both
before and after spawning, g, salmon are unfit for food, the
change which they undergo at this period being a pro-
vision which is intended as a means of preserving the
species; and a disregard of this significant alteration
has diminished the numbers in many of the principal
rivers. Before spawning, the colour of the male fish is
orange or red, and the flesh of both male and female
becomes hard and unpalatable: the male is then called
“red fish,” and the female a ‘ black fish,’ from its
dark hue. After spawning, they continue for some
time lean and out of condition, and are then termed
‘““kipper,’ or ‘“ kelt-fish.” Vhe appearance of the
salmon in a healthy state is too familiar to need de-
scription: its quality may be known by the colour of
the flesh, which is of a. delicate red. Sir Humphry
Davy ascertained that the red colour of the Salmonide
is owing to a peculiar coloured oil, which may be ex-
tracted by alcohol. ‘The depth of the red colour and
the quantity of curd are generally proportional. ‘Phe
salmon, while in their weak state, descend from pool to
pool after spawning, and are at leneth carried to sea
by the winter or early spring floods, before reaching
which, however, they again remain some time in the
bpaelaigh water.
Besides the regular effects of the seasons, the jin-
fluence of the variations to which they are liable is often
felt under circumstances which might be supposed
almost beyond their reach. The vivification of the
salmon weuld appear to depend solely on the return of
spring, when the effect of a warmer sun would be ob-
structed by no casualty; but this is not always the
case. If, during the autumn and winter, the rivers are
not swollen by flocds, the spawn is deposited in its
gravelly bed in safety; but the occurrence of floods
occasion the salmon to ascend too high up the stream,
and when they subside the ova are left dry. On the
other hand, those beds which are in the most favour-
able situations may be covered by an accumulation of
sand brought down by floods, and the fry cannot pos-
sibly make their escape; or the newly-disturbed gravel
may be swept away by a slight fresh soon after the
ova are deposited. Doubtless, instinct directs the fish
to select a situation which is the least exposed to such
mischances. It is said that if more pairs of salmon
resort to one spawning-place than there is convenient
room for, they will destroy each other’s furrows, thus
affording in fish a curious exemplification of a prin-
ciple which seems to be in operation throughout the
whole kingdom of Nature.
Experiments have been made at various times re-
lative to the vivification of the ova of salmon, the most
interesting of which are the two following :—The first
is detailed by Dr. Knox, in the ‘ Transactions of the
Royal Society of Edinburgh. On the 2nd of Novem-
ber, he observed the ova of a salmon deposited in the
usual matiner near tle sources of the Tweed. On the
25th of February, or a hundred and sixteen days after-
wards, the ova were dug up and found to be unchanged.
On the 23rd of March, twenty weeks from the period
of their deposition, the ova were changing, the fry
lying in the gravel, after having cast the outer shell. |
Ou the Ist of April the fry had quitted the spawning-
bed by ascending through the gravel. ‘he ova may
be hatched artificially by being put into bottles of water
(1. The egy, pea, or spawn, of the natural size, after the vital principle has
been developed. The body of the fish, in this stage, is of a pinkish tinge,
and the size of the eyes highly disproportionate. 2. The shell of the ovum
just burst, and the head of the fish protruding from it.]
\3. State of the ovum eight hours after the bursting of the shell, when the
pulsations of the heart become visible. 4. The shcll just thrown off; the
tail drooping. About a third part of the shcll, whicli is transparent, is
fractured by the fish in its exertions to extricate itself. Before the shell is
broken, the tail envelopes the yolk, which is seen attached to the body of
the fish. 5. Ina short time the tail becomes straight, and the fish more
lively; the mouth assumes a distinct form, and the lower jaw-and pectoral
fius, which are quite transparent, are 11 motion and articulate with the
motion of the heart, which beats from sixty to sixty-five times in a minute. ]
(6. Magnificd representation of No.3; the fish adhering to the shell, which
is only partially broken, 7. CNo. 5 magnified). The heart is before the
pectoral fins, uuder the throat. A day or two after the fish leaves the shell,
the bag, whiich was at first round, becomes more and more elongated, and
it appears to have an outer casc; a transparent part, apparently empty,
being scen at the end.)
THE PENNY MAGAZINE,
| weight °° orilse.” .
| of the salmon is as rapid as in the first months of its
| existence.
147
(8. A second magnified view of No.5, showing the direction in which the
blood circulates, as seen by a microscope. The blood flows from under the
body of the fish through the blood-vessels, ramified along the sides of the
back, and is then collected into the large vessel which runs along the frout
aud bottom of the bag, communicating directly with the heart. An equal
quantity of air, or some transparent matter, circulates with the blood. The
blood is drawn by the heart from the large vessel alluded to, ind thrown in
regular pulsations into the vessels of the head and throat, where it assumes
a darker colour, The rays of the gills arc visiblc, and the fish soon be-
comes to assume a brownish colour. ] .
In warm rooms, but they cannot be preserved alive
longer than ten days, during which they eat nothing.
Lhe other experiment was made by Mr. Hogarth, of
Aberdeen, and is still more minute in its details than
the former one; and it is also exemplified by en-
ravings showing the progress of the spawn of salmon.
In the rivers and streams the ova become vivified
-during the months of March and April, according to
the state of the season. By the end of May the water
is full of the fry, from an inch in size, perfectly formed,
to the size of a‘minnow. At first they keep in shallow
water, but as their strength increases, they may be
seen in the middle of the rnver or stream, moving
towards the sea. The first flood or fresh which occurs
at this period hurries them to the mouth of the river,
where for a short time they remain in the tide-way, and
then proceed at once to the sea. In June, not a single
"° smelt” or “ smoult,’ which is the name given to
the fry, is to be found in the fresh water. The charac-
teristics of the full-grown fish are not easily discernible
in the fry of different species of salmon, nor in the
adult fish can a common observer distinguish one kind
of salmon from another, without some knowledge of.
the differences occasioned by age or by the season.
Mr. Yarrell’s valuable work* points out the specific
distinctions of each species at any age or season, Many
xtraordinary statements are made relative to the growth
of salinon fry after reaching the sea. By the end of
June many of the fry hatched a couple of months pre-
viously, weigh from 2 to 3 lbs. and somewhat later
they are found of the weight of 6 lbs. “hose under
2 lbs. are termed ‘* salmon-peal,”’ and all above this
During the second year the growth
sSand-eels and other nutritious matter form
their sustenance, while they continue ii the sea, and
are at once tlie cause of their rapid growth, and the
excellence of the salmon as food. ‘The salmon breeds
during the first year, ascending rivers or streams in
the autumn as already described. Notwithstanding
the many enemies to which they are exposed, salmon
‘are often taken which have attained a very large size.
Pennant mentions a salmon weighing 74 lbs., and Mr.
Yarrell one still heavier, the largest, it is believed,
which has yet been noticed. It weighed 83 Ibs., and
the flesh was fine in colour, and of excellent quality.
A salmon weighing 543 Ibs. has been’ taken with a fly
in Scotland, and Sir Humphry caught one in the
Tweed by this means, which weighed 42 Ibs. A
Thames salmon is now comparatively rare: an mstance
_is mentioned of one weighing 214 lbs. having been
killed in 1812,.with a single gut without a landing-net,
* ¢ History of British Fishes.’
Une
148
Some other facts concerning the natural history of
THE PENNY MAGAZINE
[ApaiL 22,
The wood-cut at the head of this article represents
the salmon will be incidentally noticed in a future | “ Salmon-Spearing,” which mode of taking the fish
article,
>
nf
‘Sas
s
be % ¥ oa . “ : - i ig ~ — <
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OS on pe ae ee eae
vo aa = jo 7 = = = 3 ‘ a
+ — =e = ee = ere 5
SC ae
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will be noticed in a subsequent paper.
| te tr.
,
7
[The Salmon.—Saémo salar. |
DIET.
{Continued from No..323.]
Butter, as we learn from Adelung, is called in German,
butter; in the dialect of Lower Saxony, Jdotter; in
Dutch, boter ; in Anglo-Saxon, butere ; in Latin, buty-
rum; in Italian, butiro or burro ; and in French, beurre.
He thinks that the Germans have derived the word, as
well as the thing itself, from their Tartar ancestors.
The universality with which butter is diffused over
every climate where it can be made 1s certainly an
argument in favour of its use. We say every climate
where it can be made, for in extremely hot countries
butter vanishes into oil. Something, however, approxi-
mating to butter is found even in Hindostan, where it
is called ghee. Butter and lard are almost of equiva-
lent value for frying, though the professors of cookery
lay down many rules as to when one is to be preferred,
and when the other. Olive oil is used instead for fry-
ing by Catholics on fast-days, but though an elegant,
is, in this country, an expensive substitute. There is
a popular theory afloat, that butter is bzdzows; which
means, we suppose, that it increases the secretion of
bile to an inconvenient degree. ‘This may probably
be the case with some dyspeptics; but when used in
moderation, it certainly has not this effect with the ma-
jority of mankind. The substitution of orange marma-
lade, though strongly recommended by certain manu-
facturers, would be by no means desirable, as so
powerful a bitter cannot be taken with advantage in
large quantities.
Some of the adages in which butter is concerned are
very forcible—e. g., he looks as if butter would not
melt in his mouth, and yet cheese would not choke
him. The Germans say of a man confounded by an
accusation, “ Er besteht wie butter an der sonne”—i. e.,
He stands like butter in the sun. And the saine
frugal nation asserts, that the man who eats both
butter and cheese at once with his bread ought to pos-
sess two houses.
Cheese.—Dr. Richard Pearson has given a good com-
pendium of some of the chief points relating to cheese.
“The quality of cheese varies according to the kind
and quality of the milk from which it is prepared, ac-
cording to the quantity of oil and whey which the coa-
culable matter retains (in other words, according to the
different modes of separating and pressing the curds) ;
and, lastly, according to its age. In general it is an
aliment suited only to strong stomachs, and to such
persons as use great and constant exercise. It is apt
to occasion costiveness. In the higher orders of society
it is used chiefly as a condiment.
‘“* Toasted cheese is not* easily digested by weak
stomachs; and for those who can be hurt by indiges-
* Cullen, ‘ Materia Medica,’ vol. i., parti. p. 351.
ar eee a eee eee a a a pl QD a A Rt Sa SE PE A SS a sc SN)
tion, or heated by a heavy supper, it is a very improper
diet.
‘“‘'The countries most celebrated for cheese are Eng-
land, Holland, Switzerland, and Italy. The best Eng-
lish cheeses are the Cheshire, Gloucester, and Stilton ;
the Italian cheese in most esteem is the Parmesan.
Besides the Gruyeres cheese, which is made in the can-
ton of Friburg, the green Swiss cheese (called Sehab-
ziger), which is made in the canton of Glaris, is much
sought after. ‘The last-mentioned cheese owes its
flavour and colour to the herb melilot (Trifolium
melilotus officinalis, Linn.), which, after being dried,
pounded, and sifted, is mixed with the curds from
which the whey is previously expressed. ‘This cheese
is brought to table in a powdery state, and is generally
mixed with butter before it is eaten. It is reckoned
stomachic *.”
Eggs are an agreeable, and, generally speaking, a
wholesome food. Of course we mean fresh eggs; but
it unfortunately happens that in London the immense
demand for them cannot be supplied from the neigh-
bourhood ; and we fear that eges from France, Holland,
or Scotland can hardly be recommended to an invalid.
The railways will partly mend this. Eges simply
boiled or poached, pancakes and omelettes are all ex-
cellent forms of this aliment. It has often been said,
half in joke and half in earnest, that there are 650
ways of dressing eggs in the French kitchen, and that
their cooks are daily in hopes of new discoveries.
Those who have been taught to fear that every dish
among our neighbours is something in masquerade,
will be glad to learn that plain boiled eggs make their
appearance at a French dinner-table. In a note which
we have preserved of a dinner given to us by a Parisian
tradesman in 1831, we find eggs put down between the
soup and the bouilli. It is often a matter of importance
to preserve eves for a length of time, and the authorities
seem to run in favour of doing this by boiling them for
one minute.
Vegetables, i. e. the culinary vegetables, commonly
eaten with meat at table, are of comparatively recent
introduction in this country. In his observations on
the reign of Henry VIII. (which terminated in 1547)
Hume says, “‘ It was not till the end of this reign that
any salads, carrots, turnips, or other edible roots, were
produced in England. ‘The little of these vewetables
that was used, was formerly imported from Holland
and Flanders. Queen Catharine, when she wanted a
salad, was obliged to dispatch a messenger thither on
purpose.”
Potatoes. This useful root has been known in Eng-
land. for about 250 years, but was not extensively used
* © A practical Synopsis of the Materia Alimentaria and Mate-
ria Medica.’
1837.]
till long after its introduction. Professor Burmett says
** Solanum tuberosum is the potato; and although a
plant of comparatively modern introduction into the
old world, being a native of Peru, and unknown until
some time after the discovery of America, it is now
naturalized in every quarter of the globe, and has
become a necessary of life in almost every civilized
community. After the corns, our staple sustenance,
perhaps no one plant is of more importance as an
article of food than the potato. In the neighbourhood
of Quito, whence the potato was first brought into
Enrope, it ig called papas, which word was corrupted
by the Spaniards, who originally received the plant,
and made it into potades: but although the potato was
bronght to Spain in the early part of the sixteenth cen-
tury, and travelled thence to Italy, it does not seem to
have been known in Eneland nutil 1586, on the return
of Sir Walter Raleigh from Virginia, who is believed
to have been the first who brought it here. He is said
to have distributed a nnmber of tubers in Ireland, where
they were planted and throve exceedingly, and that they
were subsequently introduced into England from the
sister island*.” ‘Lhe potato mentioned in Shakspeare
is a different thing altoewether.
Mr. Burnett, after observing that the Corvolvulus
batatus has long been prized as a delicate vegetable,
adds, “‘’I’he batatus is the potato of Shakspeare’s time ;
aud not only were its fleshy roots and young leaves and
tender shoots then eaten as potherbs, but they were
candied, and made into a variety of sweetmeats. Some
of the ‘ kissing’ comfits then in vogue are believed to have
been made of this sweet potato, as well as of eryngo ft.”
The passage alluded to, ‘‘ Let the sky rain potatoes,”
&c., is in the ‘ Merry Wives of Windsor,’ act v. scene v.
It is remarkable that Linnzus preferred the Jeru-
salem artichoke to the potato, against which he had a
botanical prejudice on account of its belonging to a
poisonous genus (the Solanum.) © ‘The potato, however,
when well boiled, is very wholesome; but in the watery
state, in which it too often makes its appearance, ts fit
for no man,
Peas are among the most delicate and most agree-
able of vewetables, but must be enjoyed but sparingly
by the dyspeptic. ‘They are now to be had fresh in the
market five or six months in the year, though it must
be confessed that those of September and October are
not equal to their predecessors in flavour.
Attempts have often been made to preserve green
peas for the winter, but with little success. Dr.
Kitchener mentions this snbject twice in his ‘ Cook’s
Oracle,’ the first time with the polite good-humour of
a wiver of testimonials, the second time with the air of
a disappointed feeder. ‘The contrast between the two
passages of the same book is curious :—
**Mr. Appert has published his simple and unex-
pensive process of preserving fresh both animal and
vegetable foods, from the season of produce through
the season of scarcity, in their full flavour and excel-
lence, merely by applying heat in a due degree to the
several substances, after having deprived them of all
contact with the external air. ‘There is not a mistress
of a family who is rich enough to lay by a stock of
these articles, and not too rich to despise economy, who
will mot be benefited by the perusal of Mr. Appert’s
book, 12mo., 1812 ¢.”
‘Green Pease [Note].—These and all other fruits and
vegetables, &c., by Mr. Appert’s plan, it is said, may be
preserved in full flavour for twelve months. (See Ap-
pert’s book, 12mo., 1812.) We have eaten of several
speciinens of preserved pease, which looked pretty
enongh,—but flavour they had none at all §.” -
In Queen Elizabeth’s time, peas were in general
* © Outlines of Botany,’ p. 996. + Ibid. p. 1006.
t ¢Cook’s Oracle,’ p. 87, Fifth Edit, © Ibid. p. 183.
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
149
brought from Holland, which made Fuller say, they
were “ fit dainties for ladies, they came so far, and cost
so dear.”
Beans are nutritious, but, like the preceding vege-
table, must be taken but sparingly by valetudinarian
stomachs. Perhaps this was the reason that Pytha-
goras forbad their use to his disciples; but many
speculations have been adventured on the subject.
“Some persons affirm that he believed the bean to be
the retreat of the soul after death; and there were
many superstitions formerly connected with this seed,
which was by some nations consecrated to the gods.
Others suppose that the prohibition was founded merely
on sanatory principles, and that Pythagoras, like Hip-
pocrates, conceived that beans were unwholesome, and
weakened the eyesight. Even in the present day, it
has been observed that mental alienations are more
frequent during the blossoming of the bean than at
other seasons:—a circumstance, however, explicable
from the excessive summer heats which about that
season usually occur, and not attributable to the bean,
although its black* flowers were supposed by the sig-
nature physicians to be a prophetic mourning for the
maladies to ensue. Other commentators, however, and
with more seeming probability, affirm, that when Py-
thagoras said, ‘abstain from beans,’ he merely intended
to restrict his disciples from intermeddling in political
affairs ; for it is well known that votes were formerly
| given by beans: and vestiges of this practice, at least
in words, remain with us to the present day ¢.”
The meal of the kidney-bean was formerly so much
liked in certain parts of Scotland, that Cullen says, the
farm-servants would not take a place unless their
masters agreed to give them regularly a fixed quantity
of it.
Haricot beans are more used on the Continent than
in England; they are a good variety, and appear to
have @iven a well-known dish its name, though now, at
least, they do not generally form a part of it.
Asparagus is said to have been introduced into this
country about 1660. <A pleasant story, touching ifs
first appearance in some Scottish district, is told in the
‘ Library of Entertaining Knowledge.’ A gentleman
who had long lived in retirement sallied out into the
next town one day, and saw asparagus at table for the
first time in his life. Not knowing how to manage it,
he ate the tough stalk, and left the tender shoot. ‘This
rather surprised his fellow-diners, but the gentleman,
not liking to avow his ignorance, asserted that this was
the part he preferred, and thus condemned himself for
ever to eat asparagus at tne wrong end. Asparagus
is very wholesome as an article of diet; and a syrup
made from it has been employed medicinally in France
in palpitation of the heart.
Artichokes are the produce of the Cynara scolymus,
‘‘ the parts eaten being the fleshy bases of the bractez,
or scales of the involucrum, and the enlarged succulent
common receptacle }.”
They are a pleasant. vegetable, and their juice has
been lately recommended as the thousand and first
remedy against rheumatism. It does not seem likely
to cut a great figure in this branch of service.
Jerusalem artichokes owe their two names to two odd
reasons. They are the tubers of the Helianthus tubc-
rosus, a kind of sun-flower; and Jerusalem is a cor-
ruption of Gira sole (or Turnsole), its Italian name.
Walker, in his ‘ Pronouncing Dictionary,’ has observed
upon this tendency to change hard and strange words
into familiar ones; the vulgarisms of sparrow-grass for
* « The dark spot in the centre of the bean blossom is, perhaps,
the nearest approach to black that occurs in any flower.”
The flower of the scarlet runner is so beautiful, that in the
middle of the last century it was worn by ladies in their hair,—
a privilege which it has lost by its commonness,
+ Burnet’s ‘ Outlines of Botany,’ p. 662, t Burnett,
150
asparagus, and lambskinnet for lansqueneé are examples
of this ; towhich we may add the Bellzqueuz, the name
of a French ship, altered by our sailors into belly-cooks.
The name of artichoke is due to its strong resemblance
in taste to real artichokes.
Ovalis crenata.—YVhe tubers of this plant are eaten
in Columbia. It was introduced into this country
about four years avo; but we do not hear of it now.
Salads are almost universally popular, but are unfor-
tunately of not very easy digestion. A great distinction,
however, is to be made among the various herbs which
euter into salads; cucumber being certainly the most in-
digestible, and lettuce probably the most digestible of
the class. Lettuce seems to owe its innocence to a
small quantity of narcotic matter which it contains; a
quantity which in some varieties ¢as the Lactuca virosa)
is so considerable, as to make the plant uneatable, or
indeed poisonous. Nothing can show the popularity
of salads more than that so,eminent a man as Evelyn
wrote a treatise expressly upon them*. He enume-
rates seventy-two herbs fit for this purpose.
Dr. Kitchener recommends the use of boiled salad,
which would assuredly save many a supper-eater from
unquiet nights and dismal dreams. His receipt is as
follows :— :
* Boiled salad. This is best compounded of boiled
or baked onions, (if Portugal the better,) some baked
beet-root, cauliflower or brocoli, and boiled celery and
French beans, or any of these articles, with the common
salad dressing; added to this, to give it an enticing
appearance, and to give some of the crispness and
freshness so pleasant in salad, a small quantity of raw
endive, or lettuce and chervil, or burnet, strewed on
the top t.”
Evelyn, in his ‘ Acetaria,’ makes mention of an order
of nuns called Feuillantines, who among other mortifi-
cations endeavoured to live upon leaves of plants alone.
This was carrying asceticism in eating farther even than
the Trappists, as they eat rice, &c. ‘The nuns, how-
ever, were obliged to give it up; as Evelyn says,
“They were not able to go throngh that thin and
meacre diet.”
Mushrooms are among vegetable, what mussels are
among animal food—very suspicious beings indeed,
whose passports should be most carefully examined,
before they are suffered to enter the sanctuary of the
stomach. In Great Britain, however, accidents with
mushrooms are not so common as on the continent ;
‘* because the epicure's catalogue of mushrooms in this
country contains only three species, whose characters
are too distinct to be mistaken by a person of ordinary
skill; while abroad a great variety of them have found
their way to the table, many of which are not only
liable to be confounded with poisonous species, but are
even also themselves of doubtful quality{.” The danger
attending mushrooms of the wrong sort, in other words
toadstools, has been lone known. Seneca calls them
voluptuous porson, lethal luxury, &c. Celsus tells us
that if they have been boiled in oil, or with a twig of
a pear-tree, they are harmless; and also that the ill
effects may be prevented by eating horseradish in vine-
gar and water, or in vinegar and salt§. We fear that
these antidotes are worthless.
The leathery texture of mushrooms, even of the
rivht sort, makes them very indigestible, and when to
this we add the noxious principle contained in the notl-
souous fungi, it is no wonder that even in those who
recover from their effects, the bad symptoms last for
several days. Mushroom ketchup seldom does harm,
in spite of the carelessness with which it is prepared.
Christison says that he has seen those who were gather-
A. Discourse of Sallets. 1699,
Fifth Edit.
§ Lib. v, 27. 17.
* Acetaria.
+ Cook’s Oracle, p. 296.
+ Christison on Poisons, p. 651.
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
[Aprit 22,
ing mushrooms for ketchup near Edinburgh, pick up
every fungus that came in their way. Such ketchup
appears to be sometimes poisonous, but we do not read
f its being absolutely fatal. im ete
. F “ y le it? fai Fu /
Dechivity of Rivers.—A very slight declivity suffices to
give the running motion to water. Three inches per mile,
in asmooth, straight channel, gives a velocity of about three
miles an hour. The Ganges,which gathers the waters of the
Himalaya Mountains, the loftiest in the world, is, at 1800
miles from its mouth, only 800 feet above the level of the
sea—that ts, about twice the height of St. Paul's Chureh in
London (or the height of Arthur's Seat near Edinburgh),
and to fall these 800 feet, in its long course, the water re-
quires more than a month. The great river, Magdalena,
in Soutn America, runuing for 1000 miles, between two
ridges of the Andes, falls only 500 feet in all that distance.
Above the commencement of the thousand miles, it is seen
descending in rapids and cataracts from the mountains.
The gigantic Rio de la Plata has so gentle a descent to the
ocean, that in Paraguay, 1500 miles from its mouth, large
ships are seen, which have sailed against the current all the
way by the force of the wind alone; that is to say, on the
beautifully inclined plane of the stream, have been gradu-
ally lifted by the soft wind, and even against the current, tc
an elevation greater than that ofour loftiest spires.—A7vatt's
Physics.
Miseries of Indolence.—None so little enjoy life, and are
such burdens to themselves, as those who have nothing to
do—for
« A want of occupation is not resi—
A mind quite vacant is a mind distress’d.”
Such a man is out of God’s order; and opposing his obvious
design in the faculties he has given him, and the condi-
tion inwhich he has placed him. Nothing, therefore, is
promised in the Scriptures to the indolent. Take the in-
dolent, with regard to exertion—What indecision! What
delay! What reluctance ! What apprehension! The sloth-
ful man. says, ‘ there is a lion without; I shall be slain in
the streets.” ‘The way of the slothful man is as a hedge
of thorns: but the way of the righteous is made plain.’
Take him with regard to health—What sluggishness of cir-
culation! What depression of spirits! What dulness of
appetite! What enervation of frame! Take him with
regard to temper and enjoyment— Who is pettish and fret-
ful? Who feels wanton and childish cravings? Who is
too soft to bear any of the hardships of life? Who broods
over every little vexation and inconvenience? Who not
only increases real, but conjures up imaginary evils, and
gets no sympathy from any one in either? Who feels time
wearisome and irksome? Who is devoured by ennui and
spleen ? Who oppresses others with their company, and
their questions, and censorious talk? The active only have
the true relish of hfe. He who knows not what it is to
labour, knows not what it is to enjoy. Recreation is only
valuable as it unbends us; the idle know nothing of it. It
is exertion that renders rest delightful, and sleep sweet and
undisturbed. That the happiness of life depends on the
regular prosecution of some laudable purpose or lawful call-
ing, which engages, helps, and enlivens all our powers, let
those bear witness who, after spending years in active use-
fulness, retire to enjoy themselves. Prayer should be
always offered up for their servants and wives, and for
themselves too. They are a burden to themselves.’ —fev.
W. Jay.
SERPENT-CHARMING.
In a previous volume, (Nos. 55 and 65) we have given
some account of the very curious subject of serpents
being rendered harmless and tractable by the allered
use of charms. A recent Number of the ‘ Pictorial
Bible’ contains some further information of so interest-
ing a character, that we are induced to extract the note,
considering that it cannot fail to entertain the reader,
and render the notices we have already given as com-
plete as possible. ‘The passage in the Bible to which
the note is appended is in the 58th Psalm, verse 5.
“The present text furnishes the earliest existing refer-
ence to a class of persons who still practise their art in
1837.)
the East. These are the serpent-charmers,—men who
were believed to possess some natural endowment or
acquired secret, which subjected the serpents in a very
peculiar manner to their perceptions and control, ren-
dered harmless any wounds which the animals might
inflict upon their persons, and enabled them to cure
those which others had received. In general these
serpent-charmers were, and are, distinct tribes of men
in their several countries, professing the power they
claim to be an inherent and natural function. ‘The
most famous serpent-charmers of antiquity were the
Psylli, a people of Cyrenaica; and that theirs was be-
leved to be a natural power appears from the story
told by Pliny, that they were accustomed to try the
legitimacy of their newborn children by exposing them
to the most cruel and venomous serpents, who dared
not molest or even appwoach them unless they were
illegitimate. He thinks their power resided in some
peenhar odour in their persons, which the serpent
abhorred (‘ Nat. Hist.: lib. vii.c. 2). Lucan says the
same ; and the passage in which that poet speaks of
them affords a complete exposition of the ancient belief
concerning the charming of serpents. He chiefly de-
scribes the measures which they took to protect the
Roman camp. When the encampment was marked
out, they marched around it chanting their charms,
the “* mystic sound’ of which chased the serpents far
away. ut not trusting entirely to this, they kept up
fires, of different kinds of wood, beyond the furthest
tents, the smell of which prevented the serpents from
approaching. ‘Thus the camp was protected during
the night. But if any soldier, when abroad in the day-
time, happened to be bitten, the Psylli exerted their
powers to effectacure. First they rubbed the wounded
part around with saliva, to prevent, as they said, the
poison from spreading while they assayed their arts to
extract it :—
‘ Then sudden he begins the magic song,
And rolls the numbers hasty o’er his tongue ;
Swift he runs on, nor pauses once for breath,
To stop the progress of approaching death:
He fears the cure might suffer by delay,
And life be lost but for a moment’s stay.
Thus oft, though deep withm the ves it hes,
By magic numbers chased, the mischief flies: ’
But if it hear too slow,—if still it stay,
And scorn the potent charmer to obey ;
With forceful lips he fastens on the wound,
Drains out and spits the venom to the ground,’
Pharsatlia, 1x. Rowr.
‘In this account we find the voice repeatedly men-
tioned; and it is to ‘*‘ the voice of the charmer’ that
the Psalmist refers. We may suppose that, as in the
passage we have quoted, the charmers used a form of
words—a charm, or else chanted a song in some peculiar
manner. So kusebius, in mentioning that Palestine
abounded in serpent-charmers in his time, says that
they usually employed a verbal charm. This is still
one of the processes of the Oriental serpent-charmers.
Roberts says that the following is considered in India
-the most potent form of words against serpents: ‘Oh!
Serpent, thou who art coiled in my path, get out of my
way; for around thee are the mongoos, the porcupine,
and the kite in his circles is ready to take thee!’ ‘The
Heyptian serpeut-charmers also employ vocal sounds
and a form of words to draw the venomous creatures
from their retreats. Mr. Lane says: ‘ He assumes an
air of mystery, strikes the walls with a short palm
stick, whistles, makes a clucking noise with his tongue,
and spits upon the ground; and generally says, ° I
adjure you by God, if ye he above, or if ye be below,
that ye come forth: I adjure ye by the most Great
Name, if ye be obedient, come forth; and if ve be dis-
obedient, die! die! die!’ (* Mod. Eeyptians,’ vol. ii.
p. 104.) In these cases we may be sure that if any
true effect were produced, it was by the sound of the
yoice, not by the form of words, which was doubtless
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
{51
addressed to other ears than those of serpents; and in
the latter instance we may conclude the whistling and
clucking to have been the most operative parts of the
process.
‘* But music Is also much employed by the charmers
of serpents. By means of pipes, flutes, whistles (calls),
or small drums, they profess to attract them from their
retreats, to subdue their ferocity, and (when the serpents
are tame ones, exhibited by themselves) to make them
dance, and perform various motions regulated by the
notes of the music. We see nothing difficult to believe
in the statement that serpents may be, as some other
creatures are, influenced or attracted by music, or even
the voice of man, properly regulated; or that the
proper regulation of the music or the voice for the
designed end, may not have been discovered and ren-
dered most effective, by men who, for successive vene-
rations, have given their sole attention to the snbject.
Indeed, it is perhaps capable of proof that music, even
In common hands, has power over serpents. Sir Wil-
liam Jones believed so, although not on ocular evidence.
Iinumerating instances of the powerful effects of music
npon animals, he says, ‘A learned native of this country
(India) told me that he had frequently seen the most
venomous and malignant snakes leave their holes npon
hearing notes from a flute, which, as he supposed, gave
them peculiar delight.’ ( Asiatic Researches,’ vol. iii.
p. 315.)
‘* As to their pretension of being in their own persons
insensible to the poison of serpents, we have never met
with any satisfactory proof of it. Those which they
exhibit, and by which they often allow themselves to be
bitten, are confessedly deprived of all or most of their
venomous power by the extraction of their poison-fangs.
But nevertheless, we know ourselves, and have read,
many authenticated instances of their fearless handling
of very venomous serpents in their native state: and it
is therefore our impression that they possess some knack
In seizing and handling such serpents, which prevents
thein from biting till their poison-fangs have been ex-
tracted. ‘Their presence of mind and the possession of
such a secret easily accounts for all the stories told on
this point. But when they do happen to fail, and to
receive a bite from the serpent, they die as others.
They seem also to trust to the effect of their music in so
diverting the attention of the serpents as to prevent
them from attempting to exercise the fatal power they
possess. In this also they sometimes fail. Roberts
mentions an Indian serpent-charmer who came to a
gentleman’s honse to exhibit his tame snakes. He was
told that there was a cobra dt capello in a cage, and
asked if he could charm it. ‘Oh yes!’ said thie
charmer; and the serpent was accordingly released
from its cage. The man began his incantations and
charms; but the reptile fastened upon his arm, and he
was dead before night. ‘This serpent ‘would not listen
to the voice of the charmer.’
“We will now briefly specify the principal forms in
which the serpent-charmers exercise the powers which
they claim. As the houses in some parts of the East
are much infested with serpents, the most profitable
vart of the charmer’s business is to detect their retreat
and draw them forth. They certainly discover where
they are without ocular evidence, and make them come
forth, either in the manner already described, or by the
notes of a pipe.’ It is often said, that the charmer
introduces his tame serpents, and that they obey the
accustomed call, and are exhibited in proof of the
triumph of the charmer’s art. This may sometimes be
the case: but instances are known in which there could
not have been any collusion or contrivance ; and, after
the severest test and scrutiny, many have been obliged
to rest in the conclusion, that the charmers do really
possess the physical means of discovering the presence
of serpents without seeing them, and of attracting
152
them from their lurking places. This is Mr. Lane’s
conclusion, who also suspects that they discover the
presence of serpents by the smell, and compares their
attractive powers to those of the fowler, who by the
fascination of his voice allures the bird into his net. In
the ‘ Missionary Magazine’ for March, 1837, a mis-
sionary to India (G. Gogerly) states, that some in-
credulous persons, after the most minute and careful
precaution against artifice of any kind, sent a serpent-
charmer into the warden. ‘The man began playing
with his pipe, and proceeding from one part of the
garden to another for some minutes, stopped at a part
of the wall much injured by age, and intimated that a
serpent was within. He then played quicker, and his
notes were louder, when almost immediately a large
cobra di capello put forth his hooded head, and the
man fearlessly ran to the spot, seized it by.the throat,
and drew it forth. He then showed the poison-fangs,
and beat them out; afterwards it was taken to the
room where his baskets were left, and deposited among
the rest. From the statement of the precautions
used on this occasion, for which we refer to the publi-
cation, this was a very fair trial. Does not his beating
out the poison-fangs explain what follows in the next
verse ?—-° Break their teeth, O God, in their mouth.’
This is usually done by the serpent-charmers, who
then tame them, and use them in various exhibitions.
These exhibitions are much the same everywhere. ‘The
most usual are thus described by Mr. Gogerly, in the
paper above cited, which we the rather quote as it
partly serves to explain our present cut: ‘ Taking out
eight or ten different kinds, they cast them on the
ground. ‘The animals immediately make off in dif-
ferent directions. ‘The sap-wullah (charmer) then ap-
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
[Aprin 22, 1887
enchanted ; they then turn towards the musician, and
approaching him within two feet, raise their heads from
the ground, and bending backward and forward, keep
time with the tune. When he ceases playing, they
drop their heads, and remain quiet on the ground.’
He adds that there is another and inferior kind of ser-
pent-charmers, who are Bengalese of the lowest caste.
They do not use the pipe, but merely beat with their
finvers a smal] drum which is held in the hand. Some-
times these men, sitting on the ground, hold the cover
of a basket with one hand, and with the other pull the
tails of the serpents, and otherwise irritate them, until
the animals become so infuriated that they dart forward
and seize the naked arm of the sap-wullah, which he
exposes for the purpose. ‘They sometimes allow their
arms to be bitten in this manner till they are covered
with blood.
‘* Other serpeut-charmers allow large serpents to twine
around their bodies, as if merely to show their perfect
tameness, and the impunity with which they are able
'€'To dally with the crested worm,
To stroke his azure neck, or to receive
The lambent homage of his arrowy tongue.’
Others, again, in this situation, allow themselves, when
compressed in the serpent’s folds, to .be dreadfully
wounded in many places (the poisoned fangs of course
being wanted), till, when streaming with blood, tor-
tured, swollen, and in a really dangerous condition, the
coadjutor makes his appearance, and applies the pipe
or whistle to his lips. ‘The serpents listen to the music,
gradually unloose their coils, and creep back to the
cave from which they had been released at the com-
mencement of the awful and cruel exhibition. Of such
a display there is a very detailed account in Captain
plies his pipe to his mouth, and sends forth a few of} Riley's ‘ Narrative of the Loss of the American Brig
his peculiar notes, and all the serpents stop as though
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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 & CO., 22, LUDGATE STREET,
Printed by Wittram Cowes and Sons, Stamford Street,
THE PENNY MAGAZINE
OF THE
society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge,
PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY.
fAprin 29, 1337.
THE RIVER ST. CLAIR AND THE CHIPPEWAY INDIANS.
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[Scene on St. Clair Rites Upper sO glee |
Ir the reader glances over a map of North America,
his attention will be arrested by that combination of
lakes, whose united waters ultimately form the river
St. Lawrence. Lake Superior, the true source of the
St. Lawrence, is the greatest fresh-water lake on the
olobe, its surface being only about 7000 miles less than
that of England. Its waters are carried off into Lake
Huron, which is only second to Lake Superior in
extent, by a river called St. Mary’s River, or Strait.
Lake Huron also receives the waters of Lake Michigan,
which is nearly 300 miles long, with an average width
of 75 miles. The river St. Clair, which issues from the
south point of Lake Huron, carries off the waters of
these three inland seas; after running about 30 miles
between moderately hich banks, it expands into Lake
St. Clair, which is only about 30 miles in diameter.
Lake St. Clair is connected with Lake Erie, whose
circumference is computed at 658 miles, by the river
Detroit. Again, Lake Erie is connected with Lake
Ontario by ‘the Niagara, on which are the celebrated
falls of that name. From Lake Ontario the river
commences, though it is not termed the St. Lawrence
Vou. VI.
‘until it reaches Montreal.
The following table gives
the course of the St. Lawrence, computing it as flowing
through these various lakes until it reaches the sea :—
“HF we consider Lake Superior as the true source of
the St. Lawrence, the course of the river is between
600 and 7009 miles shorter than that of the Mississippi,
as the following table shows :—
“ Lake Superior, along a curved line drawn through
its centre 4 : ; A : 2 400
Straits of St. Mary ° 40
Lake Huron, also along a culty a ne through Ta
centre. : : 3 ; ; A 240
River St. Clair ; : ; ; F ees
LakejseeClair . ‘ : 4 - 7 30
Detroit River : , A . ; . 2
Lake Erie é 3 : : : P 930)
River Niagara : ; : ; : , BT:
Lake Ontario ; : ‘ ; 155
St. Lawrence, up to Cape Roziere ; - 692
1859 *”
The sketch from which the woodcut at the head of
this article has been derived, was taken, as the corre-
* See ‘ Penny Cyclopedia,’ article CANADA, In vol, vi,
Xx
154
spondent who mene it states, a mile below ite spot
where the river St. Clair iss ee from Lake Huron.
The river forms a boundary between Upper Canada
aud the territory of the United States. “Phe waters of
Lakes Superior, Michigan, and Huron, poured through
this narrow channel, flow with Ten staves velocity,
but their force is partly broken by the curves or bends
ofthe river. The vessels in the foreground, and the
steamer in the distance, indicate the rapid advance of
civilization. A few years ago, steam- boats were un-
known on onr own rivers, and when they were first
started, people ventured into them with something of
that tremulous apprehension with which they would
uow step into the car of a balloon. ‘They are already
converting the rivers and lakes of America, which but
yesterday, as it were, were only visited by the Indian,
into great highways of commerce.
The spot represented by the woodcut has an interest
from its being a favourite resort of the Chippeway In-
dians, even while retreating before the advance of
Kvuropean emigration. Whatever definition we may
oive of the word “ civilization,’ there can be no dispute
that the life of the North American Indian does not
coine within it. His habits and customs, his state of
precarious existence, his alternate indolence and violent
activity, are alto@wether averse to the improvement or
permanent happiness of man. Still we cannot but
feel a deep interest in the history of so remarkable a
race, who, generally speaking, cannot or will not amal-
eamate with Europeans, and who are falling fast before
their power or their vices.
‘The Crees and Chippeways constitute at present one
of the most numerous and most widely-extended of the
Indian tribes or nations inhabiting the interior of North
Aimerica. The Chippeways inhabit the country about
Lakes Superior, Michigan, and Huron. It, is stated
that all the nations whieh are within the limits of the
United States, north of the Ohio, and east of the Mis-
SISSIPPl, speak lang evages which may be considered as
only dialects of that spoken by the Crees aud Chip-
es atl The Lennapi, one of these tribes, have a
tradition amongst them, that ‘‘ their ancestors, coming’
from the w estward, took possession of the w hole country
from the Missouri to the Atlantic, after driving aw ay or
destroying the original inhabitants of the land, whom
they termed Allivewi. -In this migration and contest,
which endured for a series of years, the Mengwe or
Iroquois kept pace with them, moving in a parallel but
more northern line, and finally settling on the banks of
the St. Lawrence, and the great lakes from whence it
flows.”
Speaking of the ground.about the river St. Clair, of
which the woodcut represents a portion, our correspon-
dent says that some years since, when the Chippeways
were selling it to the British government, their pre-
dilection for this favoured spot, which contains many
graves, where are laid “‘ the bones of their fathers,” in-
duced them to reserve for their own use and future
occupation, sixteen square miles, besides some smaller
reservations down the river. ‘Lhe log huts eeen(ed
on the left bank of the river belong to them. There
are about. ‘thirty of these houses here; and the affairs
of the resident Indians are managed by a British super-
intendent, -whovhas a geod house; there is also a resi-
cent iuissionary ; ; and among the buildings are a chapel,
schoel-honse, and an Indian store- honse.
“Phe Crees, like -the other tribes of North America,
live 1ipon the produce of the chase and the fisheries in
the rumefous lakes and rivers by which their country
is-watered. No kind of agriculture has been intro-
duced among them, as among those tribes that inhabit
the southern portions of the United States. This is
chiefly to be ascribed to the general sterility of the
countnes which they inhabit, and pirtly to the rigour |
THE PENNY MAGAZINE. ¥ q
LAPRIL 29,
Vv
i +.
ofthe Hinata d os en in the-European settlements. no
attempt to sow and plant has been imade north of
‘Carlton House, on ihe Saskatchewan, and at the latter
place only on .a small-scale. ‘The hardships to which
their manner of life frequetitly exposes them, and the
want of food for some weeks together, sometimes com-
pel them to commit cannibalism. Instances of this
kind are on record, even of parents havine fed on their
own ehildren ; but these extreme cases are of rare o0¢-
currence. They commonly evince a strong affection
for their offspring, and bewail for. a length of time the
loss of their relations. ,
‘* Furopeans are very little acquainted with the Jan-
guage of the Crees. M‘Keevor has added a short vo-
abulary to his voyage. Dr. Richardson collected a
siti and valuable vocabulary, which is. still unpub-
ished. Mr. J. Howse, of Cirencester, who was in the
service of the Hudson's Bay Company for twenty years,
is now preparing, under the sanction of the London
Geographical Society, a grammar of the Cree lan-
guage, which will, we feel confident, throw a new light
on the structure of the Cree, and all the cognate lan-
cuages of the North American continent *.”
ON THE WINGS AND TAILS OF BIRDS.
(Continued from No, 322.]
Ir must be evident that the shape, arrangement, and
texture of the feathers composing the wines and tail
mnst materially affect the fheht of birds, both. as it
respects rapidity aud peculiar character. Of all birds
the swift Ceypsedus) and the hummine-birds are the
most remarkable for the rapidity of their a€rial move.
ments: let ns attend to the character presented by
their wings.
We are at first strnck with the length of this organ
i comparison with that of the bird itself’; but we see
also that its breadth is not in proportion.to. its length,
and that its general form is somewhat like that of a
sabre, ‘This, however, is not all; the wing appears to
ceousist exclusively of primary quill. feathers, So greatly
are these developed, and so small, comparatively, are
the secondaries: the first primary quill-feather is the
longest, the others shorten in oradual order, so that
the wing 18 pointed. Now we may here observe that
a pointed form of wing is essential to rapidity of flight;
we see this principle exemplified in the true falcon, i in
the pigeon, in the swallow, the pratincole, birds of ereat
powers of aerial progression. In a pointed wing the
first or second quill-feather is always the longest, but
sometiines the second and third are eqnal. Ina pointed
wing the primaries greatly exceed the secondaries.
‘To revert, however, to the wing of the humming-
bird, there is something in the texture of the feathers
composing it, which must not be overlooked. A rapid
fheht supposes a succession of smart blows upon the
air, which it is evident cannot be given by yielding
downy plumes. Now the feathers composing the pri-
maries in the humming-bird éonsist of a thick elastic
taper shaft, in some species developed to an extraordi-
nary degree at the base, as in the blue-throated sabre-
wing (Campyloplerus latipennis, Swains.); the vane
on each side of the shaft is narrow, firm, rd rigid, as
if inane of a thin plate of burnished metal ; this appear-
ance is produced by the minuteness of the plumelets of
which the vane is composed, and by their closeness to
each other, and the firmness with which they are united
together. The wings thus present a firm resistance to
the alr, and as they are rapidly agitated, produce a
humming sound. ‘The wines of the falcon, pigeon, &c.,
though not composed of feathers so ngid, nor so metal-
like in structure as in the’ humming: bird, are nevertlie-
less very beantifully pina as it. reg ards the texture
‘Penny Oyelopad! ay urtlele Cres aid Crrvraware >
1837]
and elasticity of the primaries for velocity; and we
may set it down as arule, that wherever a long and
pointed wing is found, the primaries will be firm and
elastic. ‘lhe wings of birds of rapid flight are seldom
very concave beneath,—on the contrary they are almost
flat, when extended ; and this flatuess, while it contri-
butes to the velocity of motion as the bird sweeps alone,
destroys the power of a direct upward ascent, which is
possessed in far greater perfection where the wing's are
at once ample and concave. The falcon, in order to
soar, 1s obliged to sweep round in circles, or to fly
against the wind, and he thus rises obliqnely, on the
Same principle as is shown in a fiat piece of tile, or an |
oyster-shell thrown smartly against the wind.
Wings somewhat rounded, concave,-ample, and com-
posed of stiff and well-formed quill-feathers, while in-
ferior in some points as organs of flight, are superior
in otlrers; they enable their possessor to soar with ease,
and to sail with graceful freedom in the higher regions
of the air. ‘This form of wing is exemplified in the
condor: it may be observed, that though the concavity
of these ample wings aids in soaring, it obliges the bird
in descending to sweep down ina series of gyrations,
each circle contracting, till the bird gains the ground.
Where the wines are concave, as in the owl, and
composed of lax soft feathers (the whole of the plumage
being full and downy), the flight is buoyant, noiseless,
wheeling, and differine altogether in character from
that of the falcon or swallow. The feathers yield too
mich, and are too soft to produce any whistling or
rushing noise in flight; no rigid edges cut the air, the }
vanes of the quill-feathers are lax, and the onter edge |
of the first, instead of being plain, is fringed with a
line of short lashes (the prolonged terminations of the
plumelets composing the vane), as if to @uard against
the least possibility of sound being produced by the
winnowing of the air. :
Concavity of wing, joined with shortness and round-
ness, is unfavourable to flight. Birds with this form
of wing are for the most part terrestrial in their habits; |
their bodies are heavy, and their great powers reside in
the legs: the common fowl or the turkey are examples
in point. ‘There are, however, such modifications
among terrestrial birds in the structure of the wings as |
to render some far superior in flight to others. ‘The
wings of the common partridge, for instance, are short,
round, and concave, and its flight 1s necessarily short,
whirring, and destitute of ease; but, on the other
hand, the quail, its immediate ally, in consequence of a
somewhat lingering and pointed arrangement of the
primaries, possesses, if not great, at least tolerable
powers of flight, and is one of our birds of passage.
/ ij, ‘pe
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[Wings of Sparrow, Grosbeak, and Chaffinch. |
The annexed sketches represent the wing of the
THE PENNY. MAGAZINE.
}
common sparrow (1.), that of the common erosbeak |
155
(11.), and that of ‘the chaffinch (111.). Tt will be ob-
served that their form is moderately pointed; still,
however, the flight of these birds is not remarkable for
velocity, for in the first place the extent of wing does
not .bear that comparative relationship to the size of
the body which it does in the falcon, vulture, or swal-
low ; and in the second place the quill-feathers are des-
titute of firmness, the shafts are weak, and the vanes
are soft and flimsy; while at the same time the pri-
maries but little exceed the secondaries, so that the
breadth of the extended wing is half, or more than
half, of its leneth.
Lhe crow and rock have ample and moderately
pointed wings; the first guill-feather is much shorter
than the second and third, these heing exceeded by the
fourth, which is the longest; they are firm and elastic.
The flight of these birds is steady, and they sail with
ease, olten at a very great elevation; and sometimes
perform a series of rapid evolutions, wheeling, diving,
and as suddenly reascending. Allied to the crow and
rook (Corvus), the magpie differs materially from them
in its mode of flight, and in the figure and proportion
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[Wing of the Magpie. |
The wing.of the magpie is shert and
rounded; the first quill-feather is narrow, and about
half the leu@th of the second; the fourth and filth,
which are nearly of equal length, are the longest in the
of its wings.
wing. ‘* Magpies and jays,” says White, ‘ flutter with
powerless wings, and make no dispatch.’ The flight
of the magpie is supported by short quick strokes.
Some birds have appendages of various kinds to their
wing's, the uses of which cannot well be accounted for.
In the Chinese yacana, for instance, the tips of the
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[Wing of the Jacana. |
1565 THE PENNY MAGAZINE {[Aprin 29,
primaries are furnished with slender narrow plumes or | scales; they are small, close, and overlay each other,
appendages proceeding from the extremity of the shaft, | and the whole wing is an admirable oar. The form
as in the preceding cut. The nightjyars or goatsuckers | and character of these wing-oars will be seen by refer-
(as they are foolishly termed), a family remarkable for | ring to an article on the penguin in the fifth volume of
the development of plumes, present us with some sin- {the ‘ Penny Magazine,’ 1836, p. 417, illustrated by a
cular examples in point. The wing of the Leona | figure. Without having their feathers so absolutely
nightjar (Caprimulgus macrodipterus), a native of | reduced to scales as to Jose their appearance as such,
Sierra Leone, is a good example. From the midst of j the wings of the great awk (alca impennis) are equally
the wing-coverts issues (on each wing’) a long elastic ; incapable of being used in flight, and are equally eff-
shaft, to the extent of twenty inches, and tipped with a; cient as oars. Small and stiff, the primaries and se-
broad web for about five inches. Independently of | condaries still retain their character; but the while
these appendages, the total length of the bird is about { wing is placed in such a position .as to be used with
eight inches. The use of these long. slender shafts, | advantage only in the watery element, which is the
moved by every breeze, is not easily to be discovered. | congenial home of this rare and interesting bird.
In another species from Sierra Leone, the ninth quill- The use of the wings as oars is not, however, limited
feather in each wing is produced to an amazing extent, |.to the penguins and the great awk; though in these
running narrower as it proceeds, and is soft and flowing ; | birds most certainly the modifications of structure ue-
its leneth is nearly two feet, the eighth quill-feather is |.cessary to such a use are carried to their-maximum.
about ten inches long, the seventh still shorter; the | On the contrary, many birds capable of flight, and of
rest of the primaries are as usual in this family, the | rapid flight, when they have attained to a certain
wing being pointed, and the first the longest of them. | elevation in the air, use their wings in the act of diving.
In many birds the ¢ertzals are produced into pendent | We may instance the grebes, and the divers, which, in
plumes of great length, which fall gracefully down, |-pursuing their finny: prey beneath the -surface of the
and almost touch the ground, as we see in the Demorselle | water, which they’ do with ‘astonishing rapidity and
and the Stanley cranes. The tertials of the common | perseverance, use their wings to aid their subaquatic
crane also form elegant plumes, each feather drooping | progression: . The wings of these birds are short,
with dishevelled barbs; the ¢erézals of the sacred ihis | pointed, concave, and composed of stiff oily feathers.
are also produced into lax plumes. In the Mgreé the | The same observations apply to the cormorants, which,
scapularies are elongated into wavy plumes, the feathers ;-as well as the divers, swim ordinarily with the surface
having their vanes composed of long filamentous plume- ; of the back, the neck,.and head only above the water,
lets ov barbules distant from each other. In the cranes, | and plunge with great address and vigour.
herons, egrets, &c., the wings are long and ainple. The guillemot, the puffin, and the razor-bill have
Some birds, as we have observed, are very inferior in | short concave pointed wings, and their flieht, though
flight to others, their wings being modified accordingly; | rapid, is confined to small distances, and is sustained
but there are not only birds incapable of easy and | by quickly-repeated strokes. ‘The wings of these well-
graceful progress through the air, but there are some } known birds, so common on the rocky portions of our
which are utterly destitute of the power of flight, even | coast, are also used as oars in divine, which is done
in its lowest degree. There are two conditions of wing | with great ease and to long distances. It is not there-
connected with the want of this power: first, that in { fore necessary that the wings, when adapted as paddles
which the wing is simply undeveloped, both as respects | or oars, should be incapable of sustaining their pos-
osseous structure and feathers, and therefore unfur- | sessor in the air, but it is to be observed that wings thus
nished with muscles, the presence of which would be | adapted, are never such efficient organs of flight as are
useless ; secondly, that in which the wing is converted | those of the hawk, the pigeon, the swallow, and sea-
into another and an efficient instrument, viz., an organ | gull, &c.; and moreover we may trace the declension
of aquatic progression, an oar for propelling the boat- | of the wing into a purely oar-like structure, from the
like body throngh the water. The first condition is | oceanic diving ducks, through the grebes, divers, cuille-
seen in the ostrich, rhea, emeu, cassowary, and apleryx, | mots, and puffins, till in the great awk, and the penguin
The beautiful wavy plumes into which the quill-feathers | family, it arrives at its ultimatum, and that to the
of the wing of the ostrich are modified, are too well | exclusion of flight. Extreme, therefore, is the distance
known to need description; but besides these each | between the wing of the penguin and that of the huin-
wing is armed with two short plumeless shafts, resem- | ming-bird; but while the one is admirable as an organ
bling the quills of a porcupine. In accordance with | of aerial, the other is equally so as an organ of aquatic
the undeveloped structure of the wings of this largest | progression, and between the two is an infinitude of
of the feathered race, the skeleton presents certain | modes and gradations.
peculiarities, especially in the form and extent of the | — [To be continued.}
sternum.
In the rhea the plumes of the wings are long and
slender. In the emeu the wings are so reduced as to A LOOKING-GLASS FOR LONDON.—No, XI.
be almost invisible, and there are no true quill-feathers Tue Court.
in them or in the tail. In the cassowary the pinions | Tue London “season,” or winter, was reckoned, during
are also very small and concealed beneath the plumage | the last century, from about the month of November
of the body: the quill-feathers, however, are repre- | till that of May. It was regulated, as it is now, by the
sented by five long stiff pointed spires, like those of the | usual duration of the session of Parliament. Affluent
porcupine, of black colour and unequal length, the | people, -who divided their time between London and
longest being twelve inches, or more. In the apteryx, | the country, had less inducement then to absent them-
an extraordinary bird peculiar to New Zealand, where | selves from the metropolis after the winter had set in,
it is named kiwi, the wings are so rudimentary as to be | than they have now; and the state of the roads and
discovered with difficulty; they are terminated each by | means of communication rendered it convenient to the
a little claw. There ts no vestige of a tail. legislature to meet before travelling became, if not dan-
The example of wings not only incapable of flight, | gerous, at least very troublesome and annoying. Bath
but converted into other instruments, viz., oars for | and Tunbridge Wells were fashionable resorts, and
rowing in the water, is seen most fully and completely | spread their attractions to induce their visiters to pro-
in the penguin. In this bird and its immediate allies, | long their stay: but Ramsgate and Brighton were
the featiters of these organs are reduced to a sort of! only obscure fishing villages, and Cheltenham was but
1837,
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THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
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(St. James’s Street-—Drawing-Room at St. James’s Palace. |
starting into existence: The inclinations and tastes of | makers, and artificial florists, not forgetting the “cu-
the upper classes were much more frivolous than they
are now—for he who compares habits and customs
cannot fail to remark that, however unequally, ad/
classes are moving forwards. We find frequent in-
timations in the novels and plays of the last century, of?
the aversion with which the “dull” country was re-
earded by the fashionables of the time, and their eager
longings for the return of the London ‘‘season,” with
its round of heartless dissipation, its balls, and routs,
and plays. Now, there is more intellect, more taste,
more rational enjoyment of life among the upper
classes; and the improvement which has been effected
gives us a hopeful earnest of what may still further
be accomplished, not only amongst them, but in every
rank and grade of society.
During the present century, the commencement of.
the London ‘‘season” has been gradually postponed.
Since 1806, the opening of the session of Parliament
has been veering from November to January: since
1822, it has almost settled into a rule (unless, of
course, when interrupted by anything extraordinary)
that it should not be opened till about the month of
February, the session extending till July, or the begin-
ning of August. Thus the London “ season,” or
winter, has been thrown into the months of spring
and summer.
The ‘‘ east” and “ west” ends of London present a
curious contrast with respect to the London season: In
the city, trade and commerce flow on in their accustomed
channels, unaffected by the vicissitudes of fashion. Dur-
ing the month of August, he who moves in fashionable
circles may exclaim, ‘‘ There is nobody in town !”—an
expression which appears ridiculous and affected, amidst
the never-ending thrones of Fleet Street or Cheapside.
But at that period, in the fashionable streets and
squares of the “west end,” the expression has force
and meaning. There, house after house appears de-
serted; the windows are closed with funeral-looking
shutters; the streets, always more or less stately and
quiet, are now silent and lonely; one would think that
the inhabitants had fled from the approach of the
plague, or of a hostile army. It is then that the
naberdashers, and milliners, and tailors, and boot-
riosity dealers,’ and all the other suppliers of the wants
and wishes of the wealthy, at the west end, feel that
the London season is closed. The tradesmen of Oxford
Street, Bond Street, and St. James’s, discharge their
extra workmen, and their “regular hands” are but half
employed. But after August and September have been
passed, and October is well nigh gone, the winter trade
begins. ‘The inferior grade of the upper classes, who
have no estates in the country, and who have been
visiting the Highlands, Englisn watering places, or the
continent, return totown. At last the new vear arrives;
Parliament assembles, town houses are occupied, and
the hotels are filled. Still it is remarkable how a bleak
north-east wind, and a chilling spring, will retard the
west-end trade, as well as vegetation. But court praw-
ING-ROOMS and LEVEES are announced; the Easter ho-
lidays are over; the spring becomes mild and genial ;
and all becomes bustle and activity.
It would be interesting if we could attain correct sta-
tistical information respecting the numbers who arrive
in London during the season, and the increase and de-
crease of west-end trade at different periods of the year.
There are more than 400 members of the House of
Lords, and the House of Commons is composed of 658
members. If out of this number only 400 bring their
families with them to London, and each household (con-
nexions and dependants, exclusive of servants,) is com-
posed, on an average, of but twelve individuals, we have
4800.persons, say 5000, brought to London by the meet-
ing of Parliament. Then, if we allow two families cf
wealthy individuals for every one family connected with
a member of the legislatnre, with the same number to
each household, that will give 9600, making altogether,
say 15,000 persons. If the daily expenditure of these
1200 families is 102. each, that will produce 12,0002. a
day. But this is mere conjecture, and is much less, pro-
bably, than the average fashionable expenditure. Per-
haps upwards of 50,000 (exclusive of foreigners and tem-
porary visiters) come to London during the ‘ season.”
Comparing the months of April and May with those of
August and September, there is probably a difference
of 20,0007; a-day in the business transacted by the
west-end tradesmen.
THY 4
oad
| ifs.
Men of rank and wealth used formerly to be waited
on in the mornings by crowds of persons, who came
to pay their respects, or to solicit favours. Such an
assembly was termed a levée, from the French; the
word, in its original acceptation, implying the con of
waiting on a person after he had risen in the morning.
Levées are now only held at Court, and by one or two
official persons, such as the Commander-in- -Chief, whose
levées at the Horse Guards are attended by military
men. The King, on a levée-day, previous to its being
held, nsually receives, in an apartment called the Royal
Closet, such individuals as are’to be specially presented
to him: -_ambassadors, who arrive to deliver their cre-
dentials, or some leiter from their respective sovereigns,
and persons who are appointed to official ‘situations.
These individuals are conducted, in their turn, to the
door of the Royal Closet by the Master of the Cere-
monies, who ushers'them, and then retires. The King
is usually attended by one or more of the Cabinet
Ministers. When this is over, the doors of the state
apartinents are thrown open, and the levée commences,
the company marching past the King in the Presence
Chamber. ‘fo some he addresses a few words, but
wenerally briefly, as it stops the procession. When all
have marched past, the company retire. “uArter “The
levde,” says the ‘Court Circular,’ in describing one of
the late levdes, “ the Rev. Dr. Longley, bishop of Ripon,
was introduced to the King in the ‘Royal Closet, and
did homage on his appointment to that see. Lord
John Russell, Secretary of State for the Home Depart-
ment, and the Rev. J. R. Wood, deputy. Clerk of the
Closttt, assisted at the ceremony, at which the Cabinet
Ministers and the great Officers of State were present.”
A Drawing Room is a much more splendid affair
than a Trvce. for ladies do not attend levées. The
most usual place where levées and drawing-rooms have
been held is St. James's Palace. When George IV.
inhabited Carlton House he held his levees there aig (6
Quecn Charlotte frequently had drawing-rooms in old
Buckingham House. But Carlton House has been
removed, and its site is now occupied by club-houses,
and the fiue opening into St. James's Park from Pall-
Mall. Old Buckingham House, too, has been pulled
down, and in its atta we have Buckingham Palace,
which has not yet been occupied by the Roya il Family.
Drawing-rooms have, therefore, of late years, been held
exclusively at St. James's Palace; and though its
old brick fortress-looking gateway, ‘fa acing St. James’s
Street, gives little promise of erandeur or comfort with-
in, it Is expressly stated to be far better adapted for
state occasions than new Buckingham Palace.
The best testimony to the effect produced by the
ceremonies and observances of the Court, is naturally
that of foreigners, to whom they appear in all the fresh-
ness of novelty. Thus Paul Hentzer, who visited Ene-
land in 1598, describes his ooing to sce Qucen ENeABeth
at Greenwich. “ We were admitted, ”’ he says, “ by an
order Mr. Rogers had procured from the Lord Cham-
_berlain, into the Presence Chainber, hung with rich
tapestry; and the floor, after the English fashion,
strewed with hay [probably rushes}, through which the
Queen commonly passes in her way to the chapel. At
the door stood a gentleman dressed in velvet, with a
gold chain, whose office was to introduce to the Queen
any person of distinction that came to wait on her: it
was Sunday, when there is usually the greatest attend-
ance of nobility. In the same hall were the Archbishop
of Canterbury, the Bishop of London, a great many
councillors of state, officers of the crown, and gentle-
men who waited the Queen’s coming out ; which she
did from her own apartment, when it was time to go to
prayers, attended in the following manner :—
“First went ¢cntlemen, barons, earls, knights of the
garter, all richly dressed, and bare-headed ; next came
the Chancellor, bearing the seals in a silk purse between
NNY
her hand.
=
MAGAZINE. [APRIL 29,
two, one of which carricd the royal sceptre, the other the
sword of state in a red scabbard, studded with golden
fleurs-de-lis, the point upwards , next cate the Queen,
in the fifty- Ah year of her age (as we were told), very
majestic ; her face oblong, fair, but wrinkled; her eyes
small, yet black and pleasant; her nose a little hooked,
her lips narrow, and her teeth black (a defect the Ene-
lish seem subject to, from their too great nse of sugar) ; ;
she had in her ears two very rich” pearls, with drops;
she wore false hair, and that red; upon her head she
had a small crown, reported to have been made of some
of the gold of the celebrated Luneboure table; her
bosom was uncovercd, as all the English ladies have it
till they marry, aud she had on a nécklace of exceeding
fine jewels; her hands were small, lcr fingers long,
and her stature neither tall nor low ; her air was stately hes
her manner of speaking mild and obliging. That day
she was dressed in white silk, bordered with pearls of
the size of beans, and over it a mantle of black silk,
shot with silver threads ; her train was: very long, the
end of it borne by a marchioness ; instéad of a chain
she had an oblong collar of gold and jewels. - As she
went along in this state and” magnificence, she spoke
very eraciously, first to one, then % AAG Her (whether
foreign ministers. or, those who attend for different rea-
sons), in English, French, and Italian; for, besides
being well skilled in Greek and Latin, she is mistress
of Spanish, | Scotch, and Dutch. Whoever speaks to
her it is ence ike now and then she raises some with
Whilcaeenere there, William Slawator, a
Bohemian baron, had letters to present to her; and
she, after pulling: off her right glove, gave ‘him ‘
rieht hand to kiss, sparkling with rings “anid jewels, *:
mark of particular favour. Wherever she turned her
face as she was going along, everybody fell down on
their knees. ‘The ladies of the court followed next to
her, very handsome and well shaped, and for the most
part dressed in white. She was euarded on each side
by the gentlemen pensioners, fifty In number, with elt
battle-axes. Inthe antechamber next the hall where
we were, petitions were presented to her, and she re-
ceived them most eraciously, which occasioned the ex-
clamation of ‘ God save the Qucen Elizabeth!’ She
answered it with, ‘I thancke youe, myne good peupel.’ ”
Hentzer then describes the ceremony of the Qucen’s
dining, whicl was accompanied by much pomp and
State.
Mr. Rush, who was ambassador from the United
States at the Court of London from 1817 to 1825, thus
describes, in an interesting book which he has written,
his first interview with the late George TV., at that
time Prince Regent. It was on a levee “day, at Carlton
House :—
‘I arrived before the hour appointed. My carriage
having the enérée, or right to the private entrance, I
went throngh St. James’s Park, and got to Carlton
House by the paved way, through the gardens. Even
this approach was already filled. I was set down ata
side-door, where stood servants in the Prince’s livery.
Gaining this hall, persons were seen in different cos-
tumes. Amone them, yeomen of the guard, with hal-
berds. ‘They had hats of velvet, with wreaths round
thein, and rosettes in their shoes. In the court-yard,
which opened through the columns of the portico, bands
of music were heard. Carriages, in a Stream, were
approaching by this access, through the double gates
that separate the royal residence from the street. ‘The
company arriving this way, cntered through the por-
tico, and turned ‘off to the right. I wane to the left,
through a vestibule, leading to other rooms, into which
none went but those having the entrée. They con-
sisted of cabinet ministers, the diplomatic corps, per-
sons in chief employment about the court, and a few
others, the privileze being in high esteem. Knights of
the Garter appeared. to have it, for I observed. their
1837.] ail
insignium round the knee of several. There was the
Lord Steward with his badge of office; the Lord
Chamberlain with his; also gold stick and silver stick.
Vhe foreign ambassadors and ministers wore their na-
tional costumes; the cabinet ministers, such as we see
in old portraits, with bag and sword. The Lord Chan-
cellor and other functionaries of the law had black
silk gowns, with full wigs. The bishops and digni-
taries of the church had aprons of black silk.
“The Prince had not left hisapartment. Half an
hour went by, when Sir Robert Chester, Master of
Ceremonies, said to me, that in a few minutes he would
conduct me to the Prince. The Spanish ambassador
had gone in, and I was next in turn. When he came
out, the Master of the Ceremonies advanced with me
to the door. Opening it, he left me. I entered alone.
The Prince was standing; Lord Castlereagh by him.
No one else was inthe room. Holding in my hand the
letter of credence, [ approached, as to a private gentle-
man, and said, that it was ‘ from the President. of the
United States, appointing me their envoy extraordinary.
and minister plenipotentiary at the court of his Royal
Hiehness; and that I had been directed by the Pre-
sident to say, that I could in no way better serve the
United States, or gain his approbation, than by using
all my endeavours to strengthen and prolong the good
understanding that happily subsisted between the two
sountries. ‘Lhe Prince took the letter, and handed it
to Lord Castlereagh. He then said that he wonld ever
be ready on his part to act npon the sentiments I had
expressed ; that [ might assure the President of this,
for that he sincerely desired to keep up and improve
the friendly relations snbsisting between the two na-
=
tions, which he regarded as so much to the advantage
of both.”
A scene similar to that represented in the woodcut
at the head of this article is thus described by Von
Raumur: “From Kensington I walked through the
=
shady gardens to Hyde Park Corner, and then turned
from the Green Park to St. James's Park and St.
Jamess Palace. JI arrived at half-past two, just in
time to see the carriages drive up in honour of Wil-
liam IV.’s birth-day [in 1835]. If 1800 persons, ex-
clusive of those attached to the Court, walked past the
King in gala-dresses that day, certainly there were 900
carriages in motion ; for on an average there were not
more than two persons-in each. ‘The horses and car-
riages were brilliant, the servants in all colours, laced
and covered with fringe. ‘They wore breeches and
white silk stockings; the footmen had large cocked
hats, like those of our military officers, and the coach-
men little three-cornered hats, ‘under which peeped
forth a hob-wie. Inside the carriages, too, were wig's
ci all dimensions; but these attracted my attention less
than the women, who appeared in the full splendour of
nature and of art. As the procession moved on very
slowly, and was obliged to make a halt at évery tenth
step, 1 took the liberty of moving on in a parallel line,
and of keeping by the side of certain carriages which
contained the greatest beauties. * * * * ° Anun-
fortunate hackney-coach, with a dirty coachman, and a
still more begearly foot-boy, had got among these bril-
liant equipages. ‘Those who were within, whether they
were presentables or not, had drawn up the wooden
blinds so high that one could not see them.”
ee
DLE T.
[Concluded from No, 324.]
2rinks.—Ov drinks, the cheapest is likewise the best
—-plain water. Its varieties are numerous, and much
is to be said on eacli; buf we must content ourselves
with a very brief notice of them.
Distilled water is entirely free from sults and cases,
Gud eonsequently to precipitate is caused by adding’ to
THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 159
it nitrate of silver, oxalate of ammonia, or acetate of
lead. Hence it is an excellent solvent for many medi-
cines which would be decomposed by commen water,
but as a drink is insipid and disagreeable.
Almost the same may be said of rain water (collected
in an open place) and of snow water. The goftres so
frequent,in the valleys of the Alps have often been as-
cribed to the use of snow water; but as they occur
equally in districts where the drink is different, the
supposed cause is unsatisfactory.
Boiled water is not so good as fresh, as-boiling expels
the gases. Some whimsical people boil water to kill
the microscopic insects it contains, and others to take
off its rawness, as they call it; but raw water is pro-
bably the most wholesome as well as the most natural
of drinks.
Hard water is that which contains a considerable
quantity of salts, especially of sulphate of lime, and
makes a bad lather. Heberden calls it impatiens sa-
pons, intolerant of soap. ‘Vhongh pump or well water,
which is commonly hard, is very pleasant, and usually
harmless, there is no doubt that water may be so hard
as to be injurious. .Dr. Prout thinks that it frequently
deranges delicate stomachs very considerably, and has
a tendency to produce eravel.. In such cases where
hard water is injurious, and soft water insipid, it might
be worth while trying the effect of the latter impreg-
nated with a little carbonic acid gas.
Soda-water should properly be a solution of carbo-
nate of soda in water, with a large excess of carbonic
acid gas; the carbonate of soda, however, is often
omitted, and it is then reduced.to the formula we have
just recommended. Dr. Paris remarks, that if the car-
bonic acid is contained in soda-water, as some suppose,
in a liquid form, it will abstract heat from the stomach
during its conversion into gas; and thence he deduces
the unwholesomeness of soda-water immediately after
dinner, when the stomach has need of all its heat. We
think it likely, however, that after those over-plenteous
dinners which soda-water commonly follows, the low
ing stomach may require cooling down to its digesting
point—a theory which-may form an apology even for
ices, at least for water ices. Practice certainly speaks
in favour of soda-water on these occasions.
Is it prudent to drink very cold water in very hot
weather, when much heated ?—It is certainly very plea-
sant. At Naples everybody does it with impunity *.
In North America it is occasionally fatal. Dr. Rush
states, that in summer, but seldom unless the heat is
above 85°, as many as four or five persons have died in
a day from drinking larg@e quantities or cold water. It
is probable that in such cases the water acts like a
severe blow on the stomach, paralyzing the powers of
life, and allowing no time for re-action. Dr. Beck gives
references to writers on this subject, and it is remark-
able that they are all American.
Wine is, after water, the most ancient of drinks; it
has had the good fortune to be praised in verse and
prose by the writers of every age and climate; through-
out Europe and her colonies it is the favourite beverage
of the cultivated classes; and as it agrees with almost
every healthy stomach, so is 1t in most cases of debility
the best of tonics. It is to be regretted that in this
country, owing to the high duties, and to habits
formed when the duties were still e@her, the consump-
tion of wine is very small, and consequently the con-
sumption of much less wholesome liquors very great.
The preference, too, formerly given to Portuguese
wines, by admitting them at a lower duty than those
of France, has tended to create an artificial taste for
the less wholesome and less agreeable sorts; for we
agree with Dr. Henderson, that in making wines, espe-
cially red ones, the French excel all mankind. Bentley
appears as one of the leaders of the modern English
® ¢ Penny Magazine, vole tli, psdS5,
160
taste in winc; hc is reported to have said that claret
would be port if it could. . Before the Methuen treaty
things were different, and French wines obtained that
preference which they will always obtain when there is
no bounty on bad taste. The consumption of wine in
this kingdom must formerly have been very great. In
the household book of the Earl of Northumberland,
before quoted, ten tuns and two pipes of Gascony wine
are directed to be bought every year!
It would be an interesting question to ask, what be-
comes of the large quantity of Cape wine unfortunately
charged with a lower duty, and annually imported into
this country ? We have for many years very rarely
seen any Cape wine bearing its own name, and are
foreed to conjecture that it is chiefly employed to mix
with better kinds, or to be substituted for them. Strong
wines are about half as strong as brandy. ‘Thus, Mr.
Brande gives the following as the proportion of spirits
per cent. in different liquors. We have selected the
stronecst samples of Port and Madeira from his list :—
Port +. -eeiee a «
Nadeira® . goa 24°42
Brandy®. 2 em .@. 20°29
Rum e e 6 6 e e Dao S
Gin. co § eee eee
Effervescing wines are generally liked, but are far
from being generally wholesome; the gouty aud the
inactive should shun these wines, and especially. any
excess in them, as they would poison. Mr. Brande
says, very justly, ‘the effervescing varieties of cham-
pagne, if not taken in excess, are the most speedily ex-
hilaratine of all wines; they soon produce an approach
to intoxication, which is very transient, and generally
harmless; but, indulged in to any excess, their effects
are more than ordinarily pernicious, and they ‘then
stand unrivalled in-the headach, nausea, sickness, and
universal derangement of the system, which they
create*.” This quick but transient effect of: cham-
pagne made Curran say, that it gave a run-away rap
at a man’s head.
Beer is our national drink, and is unquestionably far’
when not druge@ed, there is really
preferable to spirits ;
Tustead of wasting away
much to be said in its favour.
the body like spirits, it is rather fattening.
fell into a strange error when he said, that a penny roll
inust be better than a pint of beer,. from its containing
more corn. ‘The beer, in truth, after the process of
fermentation, cannot be said to contain any corn at all;
its nutritive power consists in its ability to’ stimulate
the stomach into-digestion ; as the Germans would say,
its virtue is dynamic, not material. The drink of this
country in ancient times was an ale made without
hops.
Spirits, to the deep regret of every philanthropist,
have, among a large class in this country, supplanted
the use of our national drink. It may seem at first
a matter of indifference whether a given quantity of
alcohol be taken in the form of gin, beer, or wine;
thus, as port is one-half the strength of brandy, it may
seem indifferent whether we drink a a pint of port, or
half a pint of brandy. It is not so, however; for in
the former case each atom of the alcohol is in chemical
combination with a variety of substances which are not
present in the spirit. On the other hand, it must be
confessed that the prevailing practice of adding spirit
to all the coarser wines drunk in this country, modifies,
though it does not nullify, the chemical argument. If
the scientific reason, therefore, should be ‘thought in-
sufficient, we must be content with the practical dif-
ference between the effects produced by them; for the
stomach, though in part subject to chemical laws, has
also ARE ties and sensibilities of its own; or, as John
Hunter used to say in his lectures,—" Some physiolo-
cists will have it, that the stomach is a mill; others,
_ * €Manual of Pharmacy,’ p. 171.
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
Franklin’
- [Aprit 29 1837.
that it is a fermenting vat ; others, again, that if isa
stewpan: but, in my vicw of the matter, it is neither
ag ltl al fermenting vat, nor a stewpan,—but a
STOMACH, geutleen;—a STomMacH!” — ;
Yea is almost always tll-made. Instead of allowing
the water to stand on the leaves for a definite time, atfiel
then pouring off the infusion, the water is allowed to
remain for: an unlimited period—an error which was
committed and reprobated when tea was first intro-
duced, as appears from the following passage of Sir
Kenelm Digby's * Cookery’ (London, 1669), quoted
by Dr. Kitchener :—
“The Jesuit that came from China, A.p. 1664, told
Mr. Waller, that to a drachm of tea they put a pint
of water, and frequently take the yolks of two new-laid
egos, and beat them up with as much fine sngar as is
sufficient for the tea, and stir all well together. He
also informed him, that we let the hot water remain
too long soaking upon the tea, which makes it extract
into itself the earthy parts of the herb; the water must
remain upon it no longer than while you can say the
Miserere psalm very leisurely ; you have then only the
spiritual part of the tea, the proportion of which to the
water must be about a drachm to the pint.”
In fact, what Swift says of doubling custom-house
duties, that in them two and two do not always make
four, may be applied to tea-making: by letting the
water remain so long, we do not ‘procure any more
aroma from the tea, but merely draw out what the
Jesuit called ‘‘earthy parts,” or, chemists now term
‘‘ bitter extractive matter.” . The -proper time for
making infusion of tea is five or six minntes, and it
should then be poured off into another pot.
Coffee, Cocoa, and Chocolate are all stimulating liquors,
and feverish patients, or those whose stomachs are
irritable from long-continued indigestion, should, o-ene-
rally speaking, abstain from them.
Lemonade is often. made unskilfully by pouring
boilie-water on sliced lemons, instead of squeezing
lemon. -juice into water. . A strong infision is thus made
of the aromatic peel, counteracting in some degree the
refreshing effects of the juice. ‘This erroneons method
sees to have arisen’ from motives of economy when
lemons were very dear. A veteran fruiterer once told
us that he recollected lemons being: half-a-crown apiece,
and that.a still older dealer monopolized lemons during
a period of the American war, and sold them at 5s. each.
Salt, if not an article of food, is one without which
food is of little use; it is necessary for health, and per-
haps for life.’ It was once a punishment in Holland to
condemn criminals to live without salt, and they were
dreadfully infested with worms in consequence. ‘ Dr.
Dyer informs us, from his personal experience, that in
the Mauritius the planters’ slaves rarely obtain salt,
and are extremely subject to worms; while the govern-
ment slaves and the convicts eet salt in their rations,
and seldom suffer from the disease. Some planters
regarding’ economy and the health of the slaves at the
same time, give a table-spoonful of salt in half a pint of
water to each slave regularly every Saturday after work ;
and they find that this dose acts not only as a vermi-
fuge, but as a tonic *.”
Too much salt, however, may be, and frequently is,
taken, not only in the shape of salted provisions, but
otherwise. ‘Thus among his eccentricities, Dr. Stark
at one time took twelve drachmms of salt a day; but he
left it off on Sir John Pringle’s supposing that it was
the cause of a scorbutic-state of the eums, under which
he laboured.
* <Table-Talk,’ vol. i, p. 291.
»
*,* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at
59, Lincoln's Inn Fields.
LONDON: CHARLES KNIGHT & CO., 22, LUDGATE STREET.
_ Printed by WinutAmM CLowEs and Sons, Stamford Street..
Wonthly Supypleinent of
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[View of Glencoe. ] |
In two of our last year’s Numbers (283 and 288) a
pretty full account was given of the Isle of Wight, with
the intention of furnishing a cheap and ready euide for
those readers who might meditate a summer excursion
to that delightful spot, or might be induced to visit it,
by being made acquainted with the beauties which it
contains. We propose to devote this Number, and our
next Monthly Supplement, to an account of the Hicu-
LANDS OF ScoTLaAND, and to follow them with an ac-
count of the Eneiisn Lakrs; comprising the best
routes through these counties, the most convenient
way of travelling i in various places, the average rate of
expense, and the most remarkable scenes in point of
beauty and sublimity. Our observations are chiefly
intended for the use of those who wish to buy as much
pleasure as possible at a moderate expense, and who
have health and strength for a pedestrian tour; than
which no more healthy and agreeable relaxation can
weil be found, especially for those who, during most of
the year, are closely confined within the precincts of
large towns: they will not, however, be found inappli-
calle to travellers of a more expensive and luxurious
class. They are chiefly the result of the writer's per-
sonal experience, and will, it is believed, be found tole- |
Vou. VI.
rably correct. Scientific information with respect to
the geology, botany, and antiquities of the country, we
leave to be sought in more elaborate accounts, to some
of the best of which we shall hereafter direct our
readers.
The roads through the Highlands, where there are
any, are for the most part extremely good. Often the
most remote and wildest parts of the country are tra-
versed by a road as smooth and level, and not so much
frequented or worn, as that which runs through an
English gentleman’s park. This is fortunate, for the
goodness of the carriages is by no means commensurate.
In the more travelled districts, that is, in the counties
of Stirling, Dumbarton, Argyle, Perth, some parts of
Inverness, and on the main road along the east coast,
vigs, or cars on springs, may often be obtained; but in
distant and seldom visited places a common cart drawn
by one horse, with a swing-seat hung across it, is com-
monly the best vehicle which can be hired: and this,
according to the nature of the ground and goodness of
the horse, will travel from three ‘and a half to five miles
an hour. He who travels with his own carriage must
travel with his own horses; for there are few places
within the Highland line, if indeed there be — besides
oe ae
162
Inverness,
ponies ‘and their equipments, especially if, a lady’s
saddle be wanted, are not always to be obtained,
though a disappointment in this respect is of rare oc-
currence. The accommodation at the inns is in exact
proportion to the demand. On the Highland road, at
Dunkeld and Blair Athol, new houses have been lately
built which leave nothing to be desired : farther on (for
few comparatively follow that road through the dreary
revion between Blair and the Spey) the inns are of a
different and inferior character, though there is probably
no stage between Blair and Inverness at which all
needful comfort may not be had. So. at Loch Tay,
Loch Earn, Loch Katrine, Loch Lomond, Inverary,
Dalmally, Oban, Fort William, and wherever the pe-
riodical stoppage of steam-boats has given rise to what
are called steam-boat-inns, no anxiety need be felt as to
the quality of the accommodation, except from the
chance of finding it already engaged. But even in the
district south of the Caledonian canal, if the traveller
diverges from the beaten line of road, he must lay his
account to meet with a very different kind of lodging
and attendance to that which he has been used to in the
south; and in the northern part of Inverness-shire and
Ross-shire, and probably in Sutherlandshire also (with
which I am not personally acquainted) he must make up
his mind to coarse fare, hard sleeping, and a plague of
midges by day and fleas by night, which, except he be
happy i in the enjoyment of a seven- -sleeper power, will
try his temper severely. Clean sheets, however, he may
always expect. Another thing will often offend an
Englishman, the dirtiness of the passages and earthen
floors. But in the roughest and rudest places he will
meet with civility and the desire to make him comfort-
able, if he is ready to make the best of it,eand does
not offend his hosts by a querulous or overbearing
manner. Bullying wili do no good whatever, for that
which displeases him will generally proceed either from
a want of means or a want of knowledge, and the
Highlanders have not quite attained that pitch of civi-
lization which enables those who live by the public to
eudure any impertinence without grumbling, so long as
they get paid for it. One thing, however, may justly
be ‘complained of, the slowness of attendance, and
especially the difficulty, and almost impossibility, of
procuring breakfast at a reasonably early hour; a
matter of no small: importance to a man who has a
long day’s work, and that of uncertain duration, before
him, and no opportunity of stopping to breakfast by
the way. Neither must he expect to find things cheap
in proportion to their homeliness; the science of charg-
ing’ is one much more quickly acquired than the science
of making comfortable; and he may chance to pay al-
most as much at a pot-house in a remote glen, as at
Blair or Inverary, except in the article of lodging, which
at the better inns is generally highly priced. The usual
dh are—breakfast, ls. 6d. to 2s.; dinner, 1s. 6d. to
(not including liquor); tea, Is. 6d. The single
eg tod who in the remoter parts usually performs
the conjunct offices of waiter, chambermaid, and boots,
will consider ls. or ls. 6d. a day, according to the
trouble given, a sufficient reniuneration: or the mis-
tress often does the work herself. Altogether, if the
walker, like a moderate man, is content with two meals
a day, and he often will not find it easy to get more,
his average expenses ought uot to exceed Ss. or 9s. a
day, guides excepted; an article which varies so munch
according to the objects and habits of each person, that
it is hardly possibee to compute the amount. At
revular stations, such as Fort Willian, they are com-
monly extortionate: in less sophisticated places 4s. or
os. a day,.and a less sum for a portion of a day will
senerally be enough. Being, however, but an indif-
ferent hand at driving a bareain, I do not pretend to |
MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF
at which post-horses can be had. Even
‘knolls,
ing, by the variation of the foregrounds, a succession
{APRIL 30,
specify the smallest sum which will content a man for
the day’s work. .
The usual price of acar or gig’ is 1s.a mile: carts on
the west coast ought to be, and generally are, cheaper.
A saddle-horse will be charged 5s. or 68. a day. At
Inverness, a good horse and gig may be had for about
8s. a day, if engaged for three or four days.
There are stage-coaches from Perth to Inverness ;—
Inverness to Thurso ;—Perth to Braemar ;— Braemar
to Aberdeen ;——Oban to Loch Lomond ;—and one or
two mail-gies, which run to the north and north-west
coasts of Sutherland and Caithness. These, we believe,
are the only public conveyances in the Highlands, except
steam-boats, which run daily up and down Loch Lo-
mond ;—two or three times a week from Glasgow to
Inverness, once a week from Oban to Skye, and oftener
from Oban to Staffa and Iona. In the Frith of Clyde,
and the lakes which diverge from it, they are plying
continually, ‘he passage ‘from Glasgow to Inverness
occupies two and a half or three days: ‘the boats usually
stop and land their passengers at night, _
Lake and river scenery however are, almost invariably,
seen to much more advantage from the land than from
the water. Boating and its accessories,—music, sunset,
and so forth,—sound very delightful, and are very de-
lightful; but still, boating is the worst way of seeing
objects for the first time. ‘The want of foregrounds, and
the monotony produced by viewing everything from the
same dead level, soon excite a feeling of satiety, which
the finest ranges of distant objects, since these of course
change their ‘aspect and relative positions but slowly,
will hardly remove. I never was more forcibly struck
by this than on occasion of two visits to Loch Katrine,
which, from its narrowness at the lower end;and the
extreme beauty of the wooded and precipitous knolls
which drop into the water, would seem likely to suffer
less than almost any lake by being viewed from a boat.
I saw it on two beautiful sunny days: the first time, I
took boat from the Trosachs to the road leading across
by Inversneid to Loch Lomond, and, beautiful as it
was, I felt disappointed. The second time, I followed
the rough road which leads along the north bank to-
wards Glengyle, and thought I “had never beheld a
scene more lovely. Grand as the features of Loch
Lomond are, I saw them from the deck of the steam-
boat, and was again disappointed; but if I had had
time to follow the road which i alone the west side,
—here skirting lovely little b er
—and, with the same distant prospects, present
of ever-changing and lovely pictures,—I should pro-
bably have ‘done more justice to that magnificent
lake. The same observation applies in an eminent
degree to Loch Ness, which, from its straightness,
narrowness, and the uniformity of its lofty shores,
has an oppressive air of sameness as seen from the
water: from the banks, the northern especially, the
windines and various elevations of the road present a
constant succession of new beauties, especially the
part between Glen Urquhart and Glen Moriston. The
Kyles of Bute, the Sound of Mull, the whole passage
from Oban to Fort William, or to Portree, in Skye, are
exquisitely beautiful; and, as there are, for the most
part, no roads along the shores, are seen to the best
advantage from the deck of a steainer. The voyage
from Glasgow to Inverness forms a delightful excur-
sion for those who are precluded, by want of time, or
Strength, or money, from pursuing their travels in a
ald ta; Af more laborious manner: but the effect pro-
duced by travelling in this way is something like that
of running’ through a novel at the rate of a volume an
hour ;—one’s recollection of the whole is confused, and
bediihivs of detail are altogether overlooked. The true
secret of enjoyment is to see a part ‘thoroughly rather
1837.]
than the whole imperfectly ;—not to be obliged to
hurry on when a day’s rest would recruit the weary
limbs, and bestow a double capacity for enjoyment;
and to have time to turn aside here, or to loitcr there,
as casual information, or the will of the moment, may
prompt. Routes cut and dried, and the directions of
friends and gutde-books, are very good things to help
the stranger in forming a general outline of his course :
but there is nothing so pleasant as to deviate from the
prescribed and beaten track in pursuit of some object
of interest, which is new to ourselves, and which we
fancy to be unknown to, or neglected by others.
It isa common opinion that a bird’s-eye view, as it
is often called, from the summit of a mountam, ts chiefly
interesting from its extent, and seldom repays the trouble
of getting thither. Such a view may seldom be fit for
the purposes of an artist, but that proceeds from the
very qualities which most forcibly interest the spectator:
—the vastness of the scene; the novelty of seeing every-
thine beneath us; the effect worked on the imagination
by solitude and stillness; the variety of atmospherical
effects; the lakes; the countless peaks and ridges,
indistinct, perhaps, and confused or insiguificant on
canvass, but full of interest to one who traces here
the familiar outline of an old friend, there sees for
the first time a celebrated point which he has pro-
mised himself to ascend; the sea, perhaps, bounding
the horizon, and raising itself like a wall into the sky,
with an effect which it ts impossible for painting to
give. Without penetrating to the recesscs of the hills,
a very inadequate notion can be formed of the magni-
tude and awfulness of mountain seenery. He who is
content with traversing the lower valleys at his ease, or
kuows no more of a mountain than by viewing a blue
peak from his carriage rolling beside the lake at its
foot, may enjoy a succession of the most beautiful land-
scapes; but can form no idea of the savage glens, the
weary length of moorland, the crags, precipices, and
ravines which make up the enormous bulk of the soft
and beautiful object which arrests his attention. My
advice is to ascend as many mountains as time and
weather permit; and the very physical pleasure of the
excursion, as the limbs grow elastic and the spirit
buoyant, in the light exhilarating air of the heights,
will be sufficient reward. Besides, nothing conveys so
clear a notion of the structure and geography of a
strange country—a matter of no small interest to the
foot traveller—as the view of it from some commanding
eminence. A catalogue of the most remarkable moun-
tains, with their hei@hts, as far as they are known, will
be given hereafter.
Before starting our travellemon his journey, it may
be as well, for the benefit of the inexperienced, to offer
a weneral notion of the sort of equipment which a pe-
destrian will find most convenient. His dress should
have a tolerable share of warmth and substance, for
rain is more prevalent than heat, and a chilling cven-
ine often follows a sultry day; besides, in traversing
the loftier regions the wind may be intensely cold,
though the heat was stifling in the valleys below.
Shoes must be strong and well nailed, or they will
want constant mending, which cannot always be had ;
and they will be the better for being capped with
double leathers over the toes, which soon get kicked
through in mountain walking, especially where there is
much heather. His wardrobe will be best packed in
some sort of small knapsack, which will hold two shirts,
one pair of trousers (or if washing trousers are worn,
he will hardly be comfortable in a long excursion with-
out two pair), three or four pair of socks, a pair of light
shoes to wear while the others are drying or mending, and
the variety of minor articles which every one will choose
for himself. ‘These will form no heavier load than a
reasonably good walker may very well carry from fifteen
THE PENNY MAGAZINE,
—
163
to thirty miles, according to the length of his stages.
A Bramah ink-bottle and a few steel pens will be con-
venient, inasmuch as Highland public-houses do not
abound in the best stationery; and a pocket-compass
Is always a pleasant companion, and may be of essential
service.
It may be well to caution the reader against placing im-
plicit reliance on the distance of his stages, as estimated
by their distance on the map, when that is contradicted by
local information, vague on the snbject of distances as it
often is. ‘There is no map of Scotland, as far as I know,
sufficiently accurate to serve as a guide in this respect.
Two of the best portable maps are, that published by
‘the Useful Knowledge Society, and that in Anderson’s
Guide to the Highlands and Islands; but these, which
are on the same scale, do not always agree either in the
relative or absolute distanccs from place to place. For
instance, in the latter, from Castleton in Braemar to
Aviemore in Strathspey is only nineteen miles: in the
former it is twenty-two, and in both Castleton is nearer
to Aviemore than to Blair Athol, which no one who has
traversed both routes will readily credit, even as to geo-
graphical position. Certainly, the distance between Cas-
tleton and Aviemore, by any practicable route, is the
oreater; and he who expects to do this seeming twenty-
two miles in less than ten hours of very sharp walking,
will be much mistaken. We have taken this as a single
example: in general, in measuring distances on the
map across country, it will be prudent to allow at least
an hour to every two miles so measured, if any consi-
derable range of hills is to be crossed.
Most visiters from the southern parts of England
now avail themselves of the quick and cheap colivey-
ance afforded by steam-boats. Those from Liverpool
to Glasgow, and from London to Edinburgh, Dundee,
Aberdeen, and Inverness, are all on a splendid scale,
and may be recommended, according to the place at
which it is intended to commence operations. Of the
two routes most wenerally adopted, the one by Perth or
Dunkeld, proceeding northwards through the eastern
Highlands, the other by Loch Katrine and Loch Lo-
mond, proceeding northwards through the western
Hiehlands,—we shall pursue the former.
A coach runs from Perth to Inverness by Blair
Athol, and Strathspey, (the Highland road, as it is
commonly called) on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, —
retugning the alternate days. It has lately been pro-
posed to carry the northern mail by that road ;—an
arrangement which would shorten the distance between —
Perth and Inverness by nearly one-half. There are also
coaches from Perth to Dunkeld, and in the summer
from Dunkeld to Blair, two or threetimes a day. The
road from Perth to Dunkeld is dull, until within two
miles or thereabout of the latter, when a view of un-
equalled beauty opens over the lovely valley in which
that town stands. A day liere will be well bestowed in
viewing the Duke of Athol’s beautiful pleasure-crounds,
and an excursion to the top of the lofty hill on the
north side of the valley, called Craig-y-Barns. This
and the neighbouring mountains have been plantcd,
chiefly with larch and pine, to a great extent, by the
late Duke,—a patriotic nobleman, who took the lead
in removing from Scotland that reproach of barren-
ness which the destruction of her indigenous woods
had brought upon her. In the rich soil of the valley,
beech, oak, and other hard-wood trees flourish luxn-
riantly. The ruined cathedral, of which « part has
been refitted as a place of worship, will be viewed
with interest. Near it stand the first two larches
planted in Scotland. They were then, in ignorance,
treated as greenlonse shrubs; they now measure
more than ninety feet in height. On the south side
of the river is a summer-house called the Hall of
Ossian, from a picture of the old a a dis-
164
appears on touching a spring, and exposes to view
in its place a pretty fall on tie river Bran. This is
too theatrical, and unworthy of the taste which planted
and laid out these beautiful @rounds: there is a much
finer fall a mile or more higher up, at the Rumbline
Brigg. Two main roads lead from Dunkeld; one to
Loch Tay, the other to Blair Athol: if only one is
likely to be visited, that leading to Blair is decidedly
to be preferred. -. Few parts ‘of Scotland combine
richness and grandeur like Strath Tumel, from Logie-
rait, where ‘it. meets Strath Tay, to the celebrated Pass
of Killicrankie, ‘just below which the rivers Garry, from
the north, and ‘Tumel from:the west, unite. Whether
on foot or not, the traveller should be warned to stop
in the pass, . and descend the steep hill leading to the
Bridge of Garry, ‘or he will not do justice to this
magnificent scene. The new road is taken much
hie her than the old one, and has lost in beauty as
inuch as it has gained’ in corivénience. Just over
the bridge is a cottage, where a guide may generally
be procured to a fall on the Tumel, half a mile distant,
of small height, but great volume of water, and ele-
erance of accompaniments : in short, the scenery about
the junction of the Tumel and Garry is of. first-rate
beauty, as is the whole valley from Killicrankie to
Loch Tumel, which ‘should by all means be visited.
Of the country in this direction I shall speak here-
after. But for those who do not mean to go in this
direction to Rannoch or Loch Tay, it will be well
worth while to make a diversion from the Dunkeld
road, crossing the river by the ferry at Moulinearn,
or af Pitlochrie, and following the south bank of the
Tumel to the foot of Loch Tumel, where they may
again cross the river, and return along its north bank
to Bridge of Garry.
At Blair the glen and falls of Bruar, celebrated in
verse by Burns, abont three miles on the Dalnacardoch
road, and the ravine in which the Tilt flows through
the Duke of Athol’s grounds, are the chief objects of
notice: the falls of Fender, a tributary to the Tilt, are
pretty, but small. North of Blair the high road_be-
comes dull, until after crossing the Grampians at the
pass of Denmonchter, (about 1300 feet above the sea)
it reaches Strath Spey : the quicker this dreary tract
is passed the better. But to the lover of mountain
excursions there is here no lack of interesting routes.
The lofty Ben-y-Gloe commands a noble view of the
wild mountains of Mar, and is of easy though long
ascent: three and a half or four hours from the inn
will bring a good walker to the top. ‘There are two
routes into Badenoch ,—one by the forest of Gaik to
Pitmain; the other by Glen Feshie to Aviemore. The
writer, has not traversed either of these, but conjec-
tures that they may be well worth the attention of any
person who can stand the fatigue of them. They may
be estimated to require from eleven to thirteen hours’
quick walking, without a single house of entertainment
by the way, and not so much as a cottage for many
miles 1 the more elevated regions; and ought not to
be rashly undertaken in stormy weather, or by untried
walkers. From MBlair to Castleton, in Braemar, is
another road of similar character, bnt less distance:
this, however, will require ten hours’ walking. The
track leads up Glen ‘Tilt, a valley of sineular character,
ereat beauty, and great interest to “the eeolosist,
through the heart of “the Duke of Athol’s deer-forest.
At the upper end of the valley you have your choice
of following the course of the Tilt, or going by a shoot-
ing-lodge of the Duke at Falair. The latter is some-
times said to be shorter ; it runs at considerably greater
height, and commands ‘finer views, and is decidedly to
be preferred if the traveller means to make any stay at
Castleton, in which case he will be sure to visit the best
part of the other route: the two routes unite about
MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF
[Apri 30,
three miles from that village. There is good accommo-
dation at Castleton, where some days may be spent
with much advantage. The valley of the Dee, from a
short distance about Mar Lodge, where ste woody
region begins, to the bridge of Dee, below Invercauld,
a distance of seven or eicht miles, is, I incline to think,
unequalled in grandeur by anything i in the Hiehlands.
The features are on the boldest scale, and derivema
peculiar interest from the noble relics of the native
pine-forests.. Those belonging to the Earl. of Fife’s
property, around Mar Lodge, were rapidly falling under
the axe two years ago, but still afforded some mag-
nificent specimens of trees, such as are not to be net
with in Eneland: I have estimated some, by rough
measurement, to be from fourteen to sixteen feet, and
upwards, in circumference, breast-high from the ground.
Nothing can be more picturesque, or in better keeping
with surrounding objects, than the growth, in its native
soil, of this noble tree, which, when not cramped by its
neighbours, throws out immense twisted branches, more
like an oak than the cabbage-headed thing which, in
English plantations, is called a Scotch fir. ‘ In ascend-
ine Lochnagar from Castleton, we pass through a
beautiful part of the forest of Tnvercauld, where the
intermixture of birch and pine‘ presents woodland
scenery of surpassing beauty, which derives a grandeur
from the magnificent ranges of mountains that meet
the “eye wherever it can pierce throngh the foliage.
This continues for about three miles “from the spot
where we quit the turnpike road, to go up the moun-
tain, and a fresh source of interest awaits the south-
country traveller, in the chance of starting the red-
deer and roe, with which this district abounds. About
the middle of the forest, and hardly out of the way,
there is a fine fall on the Garvall Burn, which is
a powerful torrent after rain. Higher up, on the
bare side of the mountain, grouse and ptarmigan are
common. The ascent is laborious, but not difficult ;
and the view from the summit will amply repay the
labour incurred. On foot, this excursion may be ac-
complished in six or seven hours; and horses may
be taken nearly to the top of the mountain. I believe
that the ascent of Ben na Bourd, on the opposite side
of the valley, would repay the trouble quite as well.
This also may be done on horseback, going up Glen
Quoich, and descending, by a different valley, upon
Invercauld.
Two other excursions present themselves from Cas-
tleton; one to the summit of Ben na Muic Dui—the
highest point in Scotland—the other to Loch Avon,
which lies ina deep hollow near that mountain, on the
southern declivity of @airngorm. Both of these are
very long and laborious, being seventeen or eishteen
miles distant from Castleton, ‘without a house of re-
freshment between them. ‘Three elens descend from
this lofty central group of the Grampians, Glen Dee,
Glen Lui Beg, and Glen Lui, going from west to
east; all sterile and unadorned, except by. the scattered
fragments of: the ancient forest, which once clothed
these mighty hills up half their height, but striking in
the extreme from the magnitude and simplicity of their
features. Through the lower parts of Glen Lui and
Glen Dee a mountain track leads to Strathspey, be-
tween Ben na Muic Dui and Brairiach, over a pass
called the Laraig Dhru, and through the fallen forest
of Rothiemurchus, to the inn of Aviemore, a route not
to be surpassed for. savage grandeur. Up the eastern-
most valley another way leads, passing near the foot of
Loch Avon, to Aviemore, over the eastern flank of
Cairngorm, and down Glen More, once celebrated for
its pine-woods; which were sold many years ago for
10,000/., and are said to have netted 70,0001. profit
to the purchasers. This route is longer and lower, but
hardly inferior in interest to the other, Either will
1837.]
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require from eleven to thirteen hours of continued
walking, for the most part very laborious ; and fine
weather is essential. From Mar Lodge, for a distance
of some twenty miles, not a house is passed, except a
forester’s cottage in Glen Lui. By taking a car from
Castleton, about six miles up the valley, to Linn of
Dee, a deep cleft in the rock, where the channel of the
river seems hardly more than a yard across, a good
walker might visit Loch Avon, and ascend thence to the
summit of Cairngorm, or Ben na Muic Dui, in a single
day. Loch Avon, which all who have read the Ettrick
Shepherd’s ‘Queen’s Wake’ will recollect as the scene
in which the Spirit of the Storm is roused, is about two
miles long, surrounded by high granite precipices, and
is unequalled for its stern and lonely grandeur, except
perhaps by the lake of Coruisk, in Skye. Hither the
lake or the mountain might be equally conveniently
visited from Aviemore, a good inn on the Highland
road, which stands in the immediate neighbourhood
of the lovely scenery of Kinrara and Rothiemurcus,
including Loch an Eilan. I believe that both objects
are rather nearer to Aviemore than to Castleton. Loch
Ennich, and its wild glen, to the west of Brairiach, is
also well worth a visit from Aviemore. 3
From Castleton to Perth there is a coach three times
a week, and to Aberdeen at least as often. Both routes
contain much of interest: the whole vale of the Dee,
till it issues from the mountains, is a succession of
beauties.
East of Invercauld, the mountains which lic between
the Dee and Spey have little interest. They are tra-
versed by the deep and lonely valley of the Avon.
The Spey, which rises in a small lake on the confines
of Lochaber and Badenoch, is one of the noblest streams
of Scotland in respect of volume. After passing Blair
Athol, and crossing the Grampians at the Pass of Dru-
mouchter, the Highland road descends upon this river
at Spey Bridge, and follows its course for eighteen or
twenty miles, when it turns northward, over the skirt of
the Monagh Leah mountains, to Inverness. ‘The best
scenery of the Spey lies between Pitmain and Aviemore,
a distance of thirteen miles. Below this Strathspey is
broad and rich; but what it eains in fertility it loses
mm Joyeliness, From Bridge of Carr to Inverness, the |
road is wild and dreary, with little to inierest, except
where it crosses the Findhorn, at the bridge of Corry-
brough, near the inn of Freeburn; and again near In-
verness, where it crosses part of the moor of Culloden,
and descends upon Inverness. The distant view to the
northward is here grand and extensive. |
From Blair, or from Strathspey, a different route
may be adopted, by Garviemore and Fort Augustus,
to Inverness. This is the old military road across
Corriarick, where on the southern side the road, on the
upper part of the descent, makes seventeen traverses
along the face of the hill. ‘This route is not remark-
able for beauty; and the same thing may be said of
the road from Pitmain or Dalwhinnie to Fort William
by Loch Laggan. This central region, from which
the waters shed both east and west, possesses no very
lofty or prominent mountains; and a less interesting
tract does not exist in the Hiehlands than the desolate
reoion which extends from Loch Ericht and Loch Lag-
an westward, to the magnificent mountains which en~-
viron the heads of Glen Etive and Glencoe (see p. 161).
The valley of the Findhorn is called Strath Dern,
and is said by Anderson to be well worth visiting.
Below Freeburn the river passes through a deep ravine
called the Streens, towards Dulsie, a distance of about
twelve miles, passable only on foot and in dry weather,
since the river has to be forded several times. ‘It is
worthy, however, of every exertion that can be made
to explore it; for it more nearly resembles the wild
scenery of Glencce than any other spot on the eastern
side of the island. Precipitous rocky mountains of
blood-red granite jutting up in sharp pinnacled cliffs,
rise from the water’s edge, and confine, and so com-
pletely overshadow the river’s course, that some of ‘the
hamlets on its banks are said to be scarcely ever visited
by the sun’s rays. ‘Those rocky banks occasionally
recede from each other, and encircle small sequestered
holms, or patches of meadow ground, which are par-
tially cultivated, and chequered by Highland cottages.
Above, the mountain slopes are thinly wooded, and the
river’s banks fringed with rows of the birch, rowan,
and alder tree *.”’ ;
S¢i1] farther down the scenery of the Findhorn, and its
* Guide to the Highlands, p. 12a, &c.
4
>
L66
tributary the Divie, by Relugas, Tarnaway, and Altyre,
is described as very beautiful, and by prolonging the
excursion in this direction, Cawdor Castle, with its
noble woods, may be visited in the way to Inverness.
From Freeburn, in the contrary direction, a parliamen-
tary road runs up the valley to Coignafearn, ten or
eleven miles; from thence to the public-house at White-
bridge, on the river Foyers, is about twenty-three miles
of mountain-walking. The General’s Hut, a better
public-house, near the fall of Foyers, is five miles
further. Two days would be well employed in an ex-
pedition from Inverness by the elevated district of
Strath Errick, descending on Loch Ness by the splendid
ravine of Inverfarrikaig, visiting the fall of Foyers,
the finest in Scotland, and returning by Strath Dern
to Freeburn and Inverness. Having thns seen the best
part of the south bank of Loch Ness, the traveller is
ready to proceed to Fort William, either by the usual
method of the steam-boat, or (which we strongly re-
commend in preference where time is no object) by the
road on the north bank, through Drumindrochet and
Invermoriston to Fort Augustus. From the middle of
the lake, Loch Ness: has too much of the look of a
huge ditch ; and indeed the whole. of the Great Glen,
as seen from the steam-boat, gratified the writer less
than almost any part of the Highlands. ‘The road on
the north bank passes the mouths of the two beautiful
elens of Urquhart and Moriston, between which it pro-
ceeds, generally at a considerable height above the lake,
through luxuriant woods. ‘This part of the route is
one of uncommon beauty. There is good accommoda-
tion at Drumindrochet, and Invermoriston, from which
Glen Urquhart and Glen Moriston respectively may
be conveniently explored.
Inverness is a large and flourishing town, beautifully
situated in a rich, highly cultivated, and woody district ;
backed, especially to the west and south-west, by bold
and lofty ranges of mountains. ‘To many persons, the
rich scenery of the vale of the Ness, and the district
called the Aird, extending alone the Moray Frith to
Beauly, will have more attraction than the wilder scenes
on which we have dwelt so long. A drive in the latter
direction to the Falls of Kilmorack, on the Beauly
River, about twelve miles from Inverness, forms a very
pleasant day’s excursion: the elose and thickly-wooded
ravine, ealled the Drhuim, through which the river
runs above the fall, is of singular character, and not
often surpassed. Another carriage excursion of four
days—from Inverness, by the sonth side of Loch Ness,
to Fort Augustus; thence up Glengarry to Tomandown,
and by the Rhiabuie road to Cluany in Glen Moriston ;
the third day to Invermoriston ; and the fourth by the
north bank of Loch Ness to Inverness—presents a
ereat variety of beautiful scenery. At Invergarry there
isacomfortableinn; for the accommodations of Cluany
much cannot be said. The same horses must be taken
all the way.
Into that large region which lies to the north of the
Great Glen a very small proportion of travellers is
tempted to venture.
interest; it contains scenery equal to that of any part
of Scotland; and the mountains of Torridon, Kintail,
and Stratlglass, are characterised by a peaked and
abrupt outline and beauty of form, which is seldom met
with in the Grampian chain. But this part of the
country has been little puffed by guide-books, and
therefore those who follow their guide-books know
nothing of it. Another and better reason is to be
found in the extreme badness of the accommodation
which generally prevails. I believe it is tolerable on
the mail-road to Dingwall, Wick, and Thurso, and in
some of the inns on the new roads in Sutherland: but
a perfect plague of fleas prevails throughout the north-
western part of Inverness and Ross-shire, as far as a
tolerably extensive experience qualifies me to speak,
MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF
This is not for want of objects of
fAerin 30,
with the single exception of the clean and good inn
at Achnanault, on the road from Inverness to Loch
Carron. Bread on the contrary is scarce. I remember
being requested, after a three days’ fast from the
staff of life, to spare the heel of a mouldy loaf, be-
cause the laird with a large party had arrived unex-
pectedly, and it was wanted for our joint breakfasts the
next morning; and this at one of the best pnblic-
houses on the north-western coast. This may perhaps
arise in part from the diMfieulty of getting yeast, for
nobody seems to brew: and nowhere in the Highlands
is there tolerable draught beer to be had: you have no
choice between slaking your thirst with the element,
pure, or commineled with whisky, or ordering a bottle
of heavy Scotch ale, which is ill qualified for the pur-
pose. It is a remarkable instance of the effects of rapid
communication, that some places on the coast are sup-
plied with bread by the steam-boats from Portree and
Oban. Oat-cake, and sometimes barley-scones, or bis-
cuit, form the substitute; and in other respects the fare
is usually coarse enough; and the lodging is no better.
The accommodation, however, is good enough to satisfy
the farmers and drovers, who are the chief travellers on
these roads; and the supply of visiters who demand
superior conveniences is not sufficient to lead to the
erection of honses for their use. Still any person, with
a thick skin and a good appetite, may reckon on not
meeting with more discomfort than shall serve to send
him back with an increased relish for the luxuries of the
south.
The physical construction of this region also has a
tendency to keep it unvisited. There are no short
routes to be traced, except for walkers; and the ma-
jority, by the time they reach Inverness, have had
enough of the mountains not to care to embark afresh
Iti a week’s excursion to a more desolate country and
worse inns.
Three excellent roads lead to the west coast through
the northern parts of Inverness-shire and Ross-shire.
The most northern passes by Contin, through Strath
Bran, to Loch Carron, Kyle Hakin, and Sky; the next
by Glen Moriston, Glen Shiel, Glenelg, and Kyle Rhiea,
to Sky: the most sonthern, by Fort Augustus and
Glen Garry, ends abruptly at Loch Hourn Head.
Between the Loch Carron and Glenelg roads the dis-
tance, measured on a map, varies from 20 to 30 miles.
In the large tract comprehended between them, whieh
we may roughly estimate to measure 40 miles lone by
29 broad, or to contain abont 1000 square miles, the
only continuous line of carriage-road is that which runs
up Strath Glass to Guisachan; about the middle of the
island, where it stops abruptly. This tract is ehiefly
composed of five or six valleys, converging towards the
east coast, and pouring their waters into the Moray
Frith by the Beauly, or the Cromarty Frith by the
Conan river. The streams rise in a lofty chain of
mountains, much nearer the west than the east coast,
whose heights are very imperfectly known, and whose
names generally have the pretix ‘ Scuir,” signifying a
precipitous eminence. They are strongly distinguished
from the immense and generally rounded masses of the
Grampians by their comparative slenderness and abrupt-
ness of form. They form the summit level of the eonn-
try, but give birth to no large rivers on the western
side; the glens there being short and of rapid descent,
and commonly inoseulating at the head of deep inlets
of the sea. ‘To form roads running across the valleys
in such a country is impossible, except at a cost al-
together disproportionate to the object: and insignifi-
cant as the direct distance may seem, the best walker,
in the longest summer’s day, would hardly cross the
country from Strath Bran to Loch Ness or Glen Moris-
ton. ‘These two lines therefore have no inosculating
branches; except one along the western eoast, from
| Shiel House, at the head of Loch Duich, by Loch Alsh,
1837.]
to Strome Ferry, on Loch Carron. When once set out
on the Loch Carron road, the carriage-traveller has no
option, except te return the same way, or to make the
circuit by Glen Shiuel to the direct road between Inver-
ness and Fort William at Invermoriston or Invergarry,
a distance of 120 miles. ‘The Glen Moriston and Glen
Garry roads follow contiguous valleys, and have an jn-
osculating branch of ten and a half miles from Toman-
down to Cluany.
The road from Invergarry to Tomandown is very
beautiful, especially where it skirts Loch Garry. The
upper part is less interesting, though Loch Quoich is
a fine sheet of water. ‘The raptd descent, through a
short @len of three or four miles, to the sea-level at
Loch Hourn, is very wild and striking. There was,
in 1835, nothing better than a whisky shop at Loch
Hourn Head; and this route is only to be recom-
mended to the walker, since the carriage road stops
here abruptly, and to the north and south it is hardly
possible to take ‘even a pony over the hills; there is,.
however, a horse-track into Knoydart. The walker
may continue his course by the wild and lofty pass of
Corryvarligan to Shiel House, at the head of Loch
Duich, a distance of five hours’ good walking, or may
visit Glenelg, returning by the Sky road over Mam
Ratachan to Shiel House. Hence he may return
southward alone Glen Moriston; continue his northern
course by Loch Duich and Loch Alsh to Loch Carron,
a tract hardly to be exceeded in variety and beauty; or
strike direct across the country by Loch Affrick and
Strath Glass to Inverness.
The district of Glenelg is soft and pastoral. It is
divided into two districts, Glen More and Glen Beg.
The latter contains two of those curious circular towers
called Burghs or Dunes, in good preservation, and wel!
worthy the attention of the traveller. From Bernera,
near the ferry of Kyle Rhea, a boat may be taken to
any part of the coast. ‘The sum asked (in 1835) for a
four-oared boat to Loch Hourn Head, a distance of
near twenty miles, was 1. and two bottles of whisky.
Loch Duich is one of the finest of the salt-water
lakes. ‘The sugar-loaf peaks of Scuir Ouran at its
head will attract attention; and the mountains on
the eastern side abound in scenery of the wildest cha-
racter, but so remote and inconvenient of access as
hardly to be known. ‘The view from Scuir Ouran must
be magnificent. There is a very fine fall called Glomak,
on a tributary to the river Elchag, which falls into the
head of Loch Long, or Ling. The people of the
country say that the height is upwards of 300 feet: this
is no doubt exaggerated ; but it is certainly one of the
loftiest falls in the island. Access to the foot may be
had by scrambling and wading when the water is very
low; but not without danger as well as difficulty;
neither is it worth while to run the risk, for there is an
abrupt turn in the ravine which interferes with the
view from below. Mr. Anderson is mistaken in placing
this fall on the water of Crowe, which falls into a deep
inlet of Loch Duich. It may best be visited from Shiel
House, or Dornie (the nearer point), at the foot of
Loch Duich.
The lower part of Glen Moriston is exceedingly
beautiful, and richly wooded with oak and ash, as well
as birch and fir, the more usual products of the country.
The upper portion is of a more monotonous character ;
but with the narrow rocky descent into Glen Shiel, a
iew country, and new sources of interest open to us.
Glen Urquhart, to the north of Glen Moriston, is a
lovely specimen of a Highland valley, It leads nowhere,
and therefore is seldom visited; but a day cannot be
better spent than in an excursion to the head of it from
the inn of Drumindrochet. It is about ten miles long.
The falls of Kilmorack, and the Dhruim have already
been mentioned. About nine miles above the fall, at
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
167
Struy Bridge, there is an indifferent public-house (the
last in this direction before you come to Kintail) with a
very civil landlord. Here the valley divides into two
branches, Strath Glass and Glen Strathfarrar. The
latter, in variety of beauty, is not surpassed by any
glen in the Highlands. The lower part is winding,
and beautifully wooded, enclosed by cragey hills, the
abutments of loftier mountains, but themselves of no
remarkable height. It contains two lakes, one small,
the other, Loch Miulie, larger and wilder : between the
two, there is a shooting-box belonging to the chief of
the Frazers (recently restored to the title of Lord
Lovat), as far as which the road is tolerably good.
Beyond Loch Miulie the track ascends a narrow savage
vorge to a third lake, Loch Monar, embosomed in bare
craggy mountains, without a tree in sight. This pass
and lake are of the grandest order. ‘The road is just
practicable for a two-wheeled vehicle, to another shoot-
ing-box at the foot of Loch Monar, but should by no
means be ventured on except with a very steady horse.
It is very bad, barely wide enough to admit a gig ; and
the sharp turns round the precipices, with the rapid
river foaming below, ate terrific. From the further
end of Loch Monar to the public-houses of Luip or
Craig, on the Loch Carron road, may be eleven or
twelye miles of rough hill-walking. On the northern
side these mountains lose their abrupt character, and
sink Into bleak dull ranges of moor. Not having
crossed this way, I can give no notion of the time re-
quired, or the difficulty of the route; probably the
whole distance from Struy Bridge to the next resting-
place would not be less than thirty-five miles, nor re-
quire less than thirteen or fourteen hours’ walking,
Struy Bridge is the most central situation for visiting
these lonely valleys, and the accommodation is as good
as usual in these parts: those who are. fastidious have
no business off the high road north of Inverness. The
sharp blue peak of Benevachart, conspicuous from the
lowland country, which towers immediately behind it,
commands a noble view of the low country and of the
western mountains. ‘The ascent and descent together:
will not take more than four or five hours.
The southern and main branch, Strath Glass, is more
open and less beautiful. A wild upland valley, of con-
siderable length, called Glen Cannich, lies between it
and Glen Strathfarrar, which, as it ascends into the
lofty scuirs that part the western from the eastern
waters, must abound in the melancholy and awful
grandeur which the inmost recesses of such mountains
seldom fail to possess. Scuir-na-lach-pich, between
Glen Cannich and Loch Monar, is said to equal Ben
Nevis in height: its triple summit, seen from Struy
Bridge to the west, will not fail to attract the eye.
Mam Suil, and the lofty mountains which separate Glen
Cannich from Glen Affrick, are equally deserving of a
visit. But how to reach these fastnesses with any
convenience is a problem not yet solved. From Struy
to the foot of Glen Cannich is five miles, and the elen
may be sixteen or eichteen miles long ;—and then we
are in a houseless desert, extending for miles. Strath
Glass increases in beauty as we approach the handsome
house of Guisachan, with its rich and lovely vrounds,
fifteen miles from Struy. A little farther, at the top of
a hill commanding a noble view of Loch Beniveian
and Loch Affrick, the road stops abruptly. From
hence to Shiel House, or Dornie, in Kintail, may be
thirty or thirty-five miles, abounding in wood, water,
and monntain, on the grandest scale, which not one
traveller in a hundred does or will visit.
The northern road, from Inverness to the west coast
and Sky, as a whole, is the least interesting of the
three. ‘The neiehbourhood of Brahan Castle,—the an-
cient seat of the Earls of Seaforth, the chiefs of the
| Mackenzies,—and of the village of Contin (at which a
168
halt may be made. to visit the beautiful little lake of
Echiltie, and Strath Conan), is rich and beautiful.
The Falls of Rogie, a little farther, are well seen
from the road; but deserve to have twenty minutes
or half an hour devoted to a close inspection of
them. Loch:.Garve, along which the road runs, Is
also a pleasing object. But from the upper end of
Loch Garve to the neighbourhood of Loch Carron is
one of the most uninteresting tracts in the Highlands ;
and the foot-traveller will both shorten the distance
and increase the pleasure of his journey by following
the sequestered valley of Strath Conan, crossing the
mouutain Scuirvullin, either to Achnanault or to Luip.
From Achnanault, which is the best inn in this quarter,
the wild lake of Fannich may be ‘visited; and with
a guide it would be very possible, and probably would
be well worth while, to cross the hills which environ
it, and.descend: upon Loch Maree. .The carriage-
road ‘thither-is dull until it reaches the summit of
the. narrow pass of:Glen Dochart, where a noble view
over the whole length of the lake, which is sixteen miles,
bursts upon the eye. From Achnanault to the very
poor public-house. of Kinlochewe, a mile or so above
the top of the lake; is about twelve miles.
_ This route’ may be varied by taking the wild road
from the end of : Loch Garve to Ullapool, a distance of
about thirty-seven miles, and crossing the ferries of the
two Loch Brooms to Loch Greinord, and Pollewe, a
small: fishing-town, at the lower end of Loch Maree ;
but I doubt whether this circuit has beauty enough to
compensate for its inconvenience and fatigue.
- Loch Maree, however, should be visited, at all events,
by one route or:the other. . From Kinlochewe to
Pollewe there is no carriage road; but a boat may
always be proctired down the lake, at the rate of Is. a
mile. .To walkers I strongly recommend in preference
the wild road along the southern bank. For savage
orandeur this lake is unsurpassed in the Highlands.
The view from the summit of Sleugach, the high moun-
tain near the head of the lake on the north side, will
well repay: the labour of the ascent, which is consider-
able; and the.same may (J believe) be said of Benlair,
which may be-‘ascended..from Pollewe. From Kin-
lochewe there is a road round Ben Eye to the head of
Loch Torridon; which leads through a group of the
wildest and'most precipitous mountains in the country.
Ben Eye itself has a very singular appearance; it
consists of two great pyramids of bare, sparkling,
whity-brown quartz rock, which, at a distance, under
a strong sun, have the colour as well as shape of
coarse sugar-loaves. Loch Clair, a small mountain
lake seen from about the summit of the pass,- offers
a lovely relief to the surrounding barrenness. The
distance may be twelve or thirteen miles, and will take
about four hours. There is a fishing village at the
head of Loch Torridon, at which a boat may be procured
down the lake to Shieldaig, where there is a decent
public-house. From Shieldaig there is an excellent
parliamentary road (fourteen miles long) to Jeantown
on Loch Carron: but were I to revisit that country, I
would rather take a guide from the head of Loch Tor-
ridon, or Kinlochewe, across the wild mountains which
separate Loch Torridon from Loch Carron. The direct
distance from Torridon to Jeantown is not greater than
that from Shieldaig to Jeantown. And it may be as
well to caution the traveller against trying to make his
way by the south side of Loch Torridon to Shieldaig
without a guide. At Jeantown we rejoin the Loch
Carron road, five miles from Strome Ferry, and twenty-
five from Achnanault.
Of the still more northern districts of Sutherland
aud Caithness, we shall say little, having no personal
knowledge of them: there is a full account of them in
Anderson’s ‘Guide to the Highlands.’ The best route.
MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT.
[Aprit 30, 1837.
through Sutherlandshire is that from Bonar Bridge to
Loch -Assynt, and-thence by the new coast-road to
Durness, on the north coast—distant about ninety
miles by this route from Bonar Bridge—returning
either by Strathmore, or Tongue and Loch Laighal to
Aultnaharrow Inn, on Loch Naver, and thence to Loch
Shin. This circuit will occupy eight or ten days, ac-
cotding to circumstances.
The mountains of Sutherland do not attain the height
of those in Inverness-shire and Ross-shire, none of them
much exceeding 3000 feet. ‘The wildest part of the
country is the neighbourhood of Loch Assynt and
Loch Inver, to the sguth of which lies a singular dis-
trict, which is thus described by Dr. Macculloch in his
own peculiar style:—‘ Round about there are four
mountains, which seem as if they had tumbled down
from the clouds, having nothing to do with the country
or each other, either in shape, materials, position, or
character, and which look very much as if they were
wondering how they got there. Which of them all is
most rocky and useless is probably known to the sheep ;
human organs distinguish little but stone; black pre-
cipices when the storm and rain are drifting by, and
when the sun shines, cold bright summits that seem
to rival the snow. Suil Veinn loses no part of its
strangely incongruous character ou a near approach.
It remains as lofty, as independent, and as much like a
Sugar-loaf (really, not metaphorically), when at its foot
as when far. off at sea. In one respect it gains, or
rather the spectator does, by a more intimate acquaint-
ance. It might have been covered with grass to the
imagination; but the eye sees and the hand feels that
it is rock above, below, and round about. The narrow
front, that which possesses the conical outline, has the
air of a precipice, although not rigidly so; since it
consists of a series of rocky cliffs, piled in terraced suc-
cession above each other; the grassy surfaces of which
being invisible from beneath, the whole seems one rude
and broken cliff, rising suddenly and abruptly from the
irrevular table-land below to the height of 1000 feet.
The effect of a mountain thus seen is always striking ;
because, towering aloft into the sky, it fills the eye and
the imagination. Here it is doubly impressive, -from
the wide and open range around, in the midst of which
this gigantic mass stands alone and unrivalled; a
solitary and enormous beacon, rising to the clouds from
the far-extended ocean-like waste of rocks and rudeness.
The conical appearance of Suil Veinn vanishes on a
side view. Thus seen, it displays a prolonged ridge
with an irregular summit: but the sides all around are
precipitous, like the western extremity ; and at the east
end it terminates in a similar manner, looking wide
over an open rocky country, and thus preserving its
independence in every part. ‘The lateral outline is
varied and graceful; the whole mountain, in every
direction, presenting an object no less picturesque than
itis uncommon and striking in effect; combining, in
some positions, with the distant and elegant forms of
Canasp, Coul Beg, and Ben More (3230 feet high),
it also offers more variety than would be expected ;
while even the general landscape is varied by the mul-
tiplicity of rocks and small lakes with which the whole
country is interspersed. ‘The total altitude from the
sea-line is probably about 2500 feet, the table-land,
whence this and most other of the mountains of this
coast rise, appearing to have an extremie elevation of
1500 feet. To almost all but the shepherds, Suil Veinn
is inaccessible ”
(To be continued.j
#,* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge 1s at
59, Lincoln’s Inn Fields. ;
LONDON: CHARLES KNIGHT & CO., 22, LUDGATE STREET.
Printed by Witr1am Crowes and Sons, Stamford Street,
THE PENNY MAGAZINE
OF THE
society for the Diffusion .of Useful Knowledge.
PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY.
(May 6, 1837.
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1
[State Street, Albany. |
ALBANY, the seat of legislation for the State of New
York, and the second city in the State in point of
population, is situated on the western bank of the
Hudson River, in 42° 39’ north latitude, and about
73° 13’ west longitude. It was first settled, in 1612,
by the Dutch; and, with the exception of Jamestown,
in Virginia, which dates from 1607, is the oldest town
in the Union. It was originally a Dutch fort, called
Fort Orange. Somewhat later it took the name of
Williamstadt, which it retained till 1664, when the
colony fell into the hands of the English. Its present
name is derived from James IJ., to whom, when Duke
of York and Albany, Charles ITI. granted the proprietor-
ship of the colony. The land in the neighbourhood is
of an inferior quality, but its want of fertility is am-
ply compensated by the excellence of its topographical
position. Albany was not intended by the original
settlers as a mart for agricultural riches, but as a
station for carrying on trade with the Indians, for
which purpose it was well adapted. It has at all times
been in a prosperous state, which may be accounted
for by its standing at the head of the tide-way of one
Vou. VI.
of the finest rivers of the New World. Since the in-
troduction of steam-boats, Albany has become a place
of increased ‘activity and bustle; and the distance
between it and New York, which is about 144 miles
due north from the latter city, may be accomplished in
twelve hours, and it has not unfrequently been done
in ten hours. The voyage between the two places is
highly picturesque and agreeable. Vessels of eighty
tons burden come up the Hudson as far as Albany.
During the severest part of the winter, the navigation
of the river is interrupted for a short time. The tide-
water rises as far as Troy, which is about five miles
above Albany, on the opposite side of the river. Albany,
therefore, forms a kind of natural entrepédt between
New York and a vast extent of interior country, com-
prising the Canadas, and part of Ohio on the oue side,
and part of the New England States on the other.
A considerable sum is received as a transit duty on
goods, chiefly flour and agricultural produce, which
pass through the city. oo ;
The natural resources which it derives from so fine a
river are of the most important kind, but the formation
Z
170
of the Erie and Champlain canals have rendered Albany
the commercial centre of a much larger tract of country
than that comprised within the basin of the Hudson.
The length of the Erie canal is 363 miles; and its
object is fo open a comniunication with the Lakes, and
through them, with the great basins of the Mississippi,
the Missouri, and Ohio. ‘he Champlain canal, which
is sixty-three miles long, connects the Hudson with the
St. Lawrence, and with Canada, through Lake Cham-
plain and the river Richelieu or Chambly. The extent
of territory with which a communication is opened is
immense when the shortness of this canal is taken
into consideration. ‘The Erie canal is more than twice
the length of any of the canals of Eurcpe. The Erie
and Champlain canals unite at a place which bears the
Dutch name of Watervliet, eight miles from Albany,
and then runs in one united channel to the canal-basin
at Albany, which is said to cover thirty-two acres. ‘They
were commenced in 1817, and completed at an expense
of about 9,000,000 dollars (nearly 2,000,000.) These
ereat undertakings were suggested to the legislature of
New York by Governor De Witt Clinton, and but for
his energy, ability, and public spirit, would perhaps
not have been entered upon at so early a period. He
engaged in the subject with all that enthusiasm which
forms so essential an element of success 1n a great
enterprise. Some of his memorials, addressed to the
legislature, were well calculated to excite public spirit.
Hie spoke of his project as one which, by the extensive
Iine which it would traverse, the countries which it
would connect, and the consequences which it would
produce, as being “ without a parallel in the history of
mankind.” Other @reat canals had been projected or
executed by the chiefs of powerful monarchies; but, he
added, “it remains for a free state to create a new era
in Instory; and to erect a work more stupendous, more
magnificent, and more beneficial, than has hitherto
been achieved by the human race.” In another of
his addresses on this subject, he alluded to the inanner
in which the canals would bind together by the ties
of mutual interest parts of the country which had pre-
viously litthke communication with each other. ‘* 'The
most distant parts of ‘the Union,” he said, ‘* will then
be in a state of approximation; and the distinction of
eastern and western, of southern and northern in-
terests, will be entirely prostrated. ‘To be instrumental
in producing so much good, by increasing the stock of
human happiness,—by establishing the perpetuity of
free governinent,—and by extending the empire of
knowledge, of refinement, and of religion,—is an
ambition worthy of a free people. ‘The most exalted
reputation is that which arises from the dispensation of
happiness to our fellow-creatures.” In addition to the
canals, there is now a railway from Albany to Saratoga,
a watering-place about thirty-seven miles distant: it
connects the Mohawk River with the Hudson.
Lhe population of Albany was only 4000 in 1800,
bnt it is now supposed to contain 20,000 inhabitants,
Lhe number of newspapers published in the city in
i834 was as follows:—daily, three; three times a
week, three; weekly, three; besides other periodicals.
A newspaper was printed at Albany before the Revo-
lution which separated the colonies from the mother-
country. ‘The town consists of one principal street,
of considerable length, parallel to the river, with
other streets, some of which run down to the stream
nearly at right angles to it. From the main street the
ground rises abruptly, so: that the rest of the city is on
the side of a hill, and presents a very fine appearance
from Greenbush, on the opposite side of the river.
The principal building is the Capitol, a stone edifice,
which contains the chambers both of the Senate and
House of Assembly ; it stands on the top of a steep |
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
[May 6,
but wide and handsome street, called State Street, which
Mr. Arfwedson, who recently travelled through every
part of the Union, says is wider than any street he saw
in America. ‘The City Hall is perhaps the finest build-
ing of which Albany can boast; it is built upon the
same hill as the Capitol, on one side of a square, the
Capitol being on another side, and the Academy form-
ine the third side.. It is of white marble, and has a
dome, which is visible at a great distance. Albany
contains also a state-hall for public offices, an arsenal,
a theatre, a prison, and twelve churches. Mr. Arfwed-
son says,—* ‘The appearance of the city fully confirms
its flourishing state. While shops of every kind meet
the eye, and the bustle characteristic of Americans is
visible everywhere, parts of the city are found which
remind you of some of the finest towns in Europe.”
The houses are built of brick and stone; and the older
dwellings, with their gables turned to the street, of
which we still observe some traces in the city of New
York, also indicate the Dutch origin of both places.
Albany contains many old families who are the lineal
descendants of the Dutch settlers; and one of their
representatives still retains the title of Patroon, an
old Dutch word, which is equivalent to our “ master.”
There is more ceremony and etiquette, and a stronger
tinge of aristocratic feeling at Albany than in any other
city in the Union. Mr. Stuart states, in his © 'Three
Years in North America,’ that the great possessions: of
the patroon have hitherto passed undivided to the
eldest son of the family ; but it seems to be understood
that the present proprietor, who has a laree family,
iutends to divide them among his children, according
to the custom of the country.
The principal supply of water to the town for do-
mestic use is from a source about two miles and a half
distant.
here is a horse ferry-boat over the Hudson, at Al-
bany, which is managed in a peculiar manner, and, if
iot unknown to other countries, is at least of American
invention. It is thus described by Mr. Stuart :—
‘* "Two vertical wheels, resembling the paddle-wheels of
a steam-boat, are moved by a large wheel placed hori-
zontally below the deck of a boat, and propelled by
horses, so placed on its surface at the sides of the boat,
from which the deck is removed, that the motion. of
their feet in grooves cut in the wheel moves it forward
in a direction opposite to that in which they appear to
be pressing forward. The number of horses is,. of
course, greater or less, according to the size of the
boat, rapidity of the stream, or strength of the tide, and
other circumstances.” The plan is found convenient
where there is not sufficient intercourse across a river
to render the employment of a steam-boat profitable.
A LOOKING-GLASS FOR LONDON.—No, XII,
Tue Court.
(Concluded from No. 325.]
Mr. Rusu has also given us a very lively description
of a drawing-room in 1818. In reading it, the reader
will bear in mind, first, that the scene took place, not
at St. James’s Palace, but old Buckingham House ;
which, as we have already mentioned, has been pulled
down ; and secondly, and somewhat more important,
the “‘hooped petticoat,” which Mr. Rush so particularly
notices, is no longer a portion of female Court costume,
having been discarded about ten or twelve years ago, in
the reign of George IV.
“Going through Hyde Park, I found the whole way
from ‘Tyburn to Piccadilly (abont a mile) filled with
private carriages, standing still. Persons were in them
who had adopted this mode of seeing those who went to
1887,]
Court. Tenfold the number went by other approaches,
aud every approach, I was told, was thronged with
dowble rows of equipages, filled with-spectators. I was
to be set down with the rest of the diplomatic corps,
and others having the entrée, at a door assiened within
the court-yard of the Palace. Arrived in its vicinity,
iny carriage was stopped by those before it. Here we
saw, through the trees and avenues of the park, other
carriages rapidly coming up, in two recular lines, from
the Horse Guards and St. James’s. Another line that
had been up was turning slowly off towards the Bird-
cage Walk. Joreigners agreed that the united capitals
of Europe could not match the sight. The horses were
all in the highest condition, and under heavy embla-
zoned harness, seemed, like war-horses, to move proudly.
‘Trumpets were sounding, and the Park and Tower
enns firing. ‘There were rauks of cavalry in scarlet,
with their bright helmets and jet black horses; the
same, we were told, men and horses, that had been at
Waterloo.
“We were soon set down, and entered the great
hall, What a contrast! ‘The day before I had vone
up the staircase alone. Now what did I see? We
were not ont of time, for, by appointment, my carriage
reached the palace with Lord Castlereagh’s ; but whiist
hundreds were still arriving, hundreds were endeavoutr-
ing to come away. ‘The staircase branched off, at the
first landing, into two arms. It was wide enough to
admit a partition, which was let in. The company
ascending took one channel, those descending the other ;
and both were full, The whole group were motionless.
The openings through the carved balusters brought all
under view at once, whilst the paintings on the walls
heightened the effect. ‘The hoop dresses of the ladies,
sparkling with lama; their plumes; their lappets; the
fanciful attitudes which the hoops occasioned, some
eettine out of position as when in Addison’s time they
were adjusted to shoot a door; the various costumes of"
the @wentlenen as they stood, pinioning their elbows,
aud holding in their swords; the common hilarity, from
the common dilemma; the bland recognitions .passing
between those above and below, made up, altogether,
an exhibition so picturesque, that a painter might give
it as illustrative, so far, of the Court of that era. With-
out pausing to describe the incidents during our pro-
e@ress upwards, it may be sufficient to say that the
party to which [ was attached, and of which Lady
Castlereawh, towering in her bloom, was the pioneer,
reached the summit of the statrs in about three quarters
of an liour.
“Four rooms were allotted to the ceremony. In
the second was the Queen. She sat ona velvet chair
and cushion, a little raised up. Near her were the
Princesses and ladies in waiting. ‘The general com-
pany, as they reached the corridor by one arm of the
Staircase, passed on to the Queen. Bowing to her,
they regained it, after passing through all the rooms,
by an outlet that led to the other arm, which they de-
scended. When my wife was presented, her Majesty
addressed some conversation to her as a stranger. This
she could not do to all, time not permitting. The
Regent was there, and the Royal Family; cabinet
ministers and their ladies; foreign ambassadors and
ministers, with theirs. These having the entrée, re-
mained, if they chose, in the room with the Queen. A
numerous portion of the nobility were present, with
their wives and daughters; with others distinguished
in life, though bearing neither rank nor station. Con-
versation you got as you could, in so ereat and rich a
throng.
“* [tf the scene in the hall was picturesque, the one
upstairs transcended it. ‘The doors of the rooms were
allopen. You saw in them a thousand ladies richly
dressed: All the colours of nature were mingling their
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
171
rays together. It was the first occasion of laying by
mourning for the Princess Charlotte, so that it was
like the bursting out of spring. No lady was without
her plume. ‘The whole was a waving field of feathers.
Some were blue, like the sky; some tinged with red:
here you saw violet and yellow—there shades of green.
But the most were like tufts of snow. The diamonds
encircling them caught the sun through the windows,
and threw dazzling beams around. ‘Then the hoops!
I cannot describe these. They should be seen. To
see one is nothing. But to see a thousand, and their
thousand wearers! I afterwards sat in the ambassa-
dors’ box at a coronation. ‘That sight faded before
this.’
Notwithstanding the effect produced by the ‘ thou-
sand hoops” and their “ thousand wearers,” which Mr,
Rush so graphically describes, there can be no question
that the abolition of the court-hoop was both a ereat
convenience and a great improvement in taste. Speak-
ing of the time when the hoop-petticoat disappeared
from general fashionable society, the author of the
‘ History of British Costume’ says, ‘* Fashion, ever in
extremes, rushed from high-peaked stays and ficured
satins, yard-lon@ waists and hooped petticoats, into the
lightest and slightest products of the loom, which clung
round the form whether graceful or ungainly, aud were
oirdled absolutely under the arm-pits. Let those who
have laughed at the habits of our ancestors—let the
Lady Patroness of Almack’s, who would start back with
a scream of horror at the idea of figuring in the wimple
and gorget of the thirteenth, or the coat-hardie and
monstrous head-dresses of the fourteenth, fifteenth, or
even eighteenth century, peep into a lady’s pocket-book
or fashionable magazine, of which the cover is scarcely
old—let her recall by such a g@lance the costume in
which she paraded Bond Street and the Park as lately
as 1815 or 1820 (remembering at the same time, that
the fashions of the reign of Rufus or Henry V. have
been rudely copied by monkish illuminators, ignorant
of the first principles of desien, and their natural defor-
mities made still more hideous by a total absence of
skill and taste in the delineator, while those of the
reigns of George IIT. and George IV. have been dis-
played by creditable and even first-rate artists), and
then favour us with her honest opinion of the difference
between the periods in ugliness and absurdity *.”
It is an established rule of etiquette, that the junior
female branches of distinguished families should be in-
troduced at Conrt (most usually on the occasion of a
Drawing-Room) before they mix in general society.
There are two officers in the King’s household who
must not be confounded with each other. ‘These are,
the Lord Great Chamberlain and the Lord Chamher-
lain. ‘Khe first is an hereditary office, the second is
held during pleasure. ‘The duties which now devolve
upon the Great Chamberlain are, the dressing and at-
tending on the King at his coronation; the care of the
ancient Palace of Westminster; the provision of furni-
ture for the Houses of Parliament and for Westminster
Hall, when used on great occasions; and attendance
upon peers at their creation, and upon bishops when
they perform their homage. ‘The holder of the office of
Lord Chamberlain is usually changed with a change of
ministry. He has the control of all parts of the house-
hold which are not under the direction of the Lord
Steward, the Groom of the Stole, or the Master of the
Horse; the King’s chaplains, physicians, surgeous, &c.,
as well as the royal tradesmen, are by his appotmtment ;
tlhe companies of actors at the royal theatres, as part of
the household, are under his regulation, and he is also
the licenser of plays.
* «History of British Costume’—‘ Library of Entertaining
Knowledge.’
L 2
THE PENNY MAGAZINE. [May 5,
jane
~]
W
BRITISH FISHERIES.—No. X17.
THE SALMON.
(Continued from No, 324.]
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[Coleraine Salmon-Leap on the Bann—Angling for Salmon. |
Berore giving some account of different modes of
taking salmon, it is desirable to notice the subject of
impropriation. Salmon are caught from the mouth of
a river to its source, and the proprietors of the soil on
its banks, from one extremity to another, enjoy the
right of fishing in that part of the river which intersects
their land; except in those cases, which are numerous,
where this right has been conferred, by charters or
royal grants, on individuais who are neither occupiers
nor owners of the land in question, and who thus
exercise a species of right resembling that of lords of
manors in England. The modes by which salmon
are caught in one part of the river is a matter of great
importance to those who have the right of fishing in
another part of it. The upper proprietors are deeply
interested in the practice which prevails at the mouth
of the river, for it might be so conducted as to cut off
all chance of their obtaining a share of the fish; and
the lower proprietors are equally interested in the pre-
servation of the breeding-fish, which proceed towards
the stream-head to deposit their spawn, and if destroyed
would greatly diminish the value of the fishery. The
proprietors at each extremity of the river are therefore
in a position in which, for the sake of their own interest,
they are bound to respect their neighbours’ rights; and
though the extent to which they interfere with each
other may be reconciled and adjusted in principle, yet
the carrying out of this principle to the satisfaction of
different interests is a question of considerable diffi-
culty, which would be much less complicated but for
the existence of ancient and immemorial rights, opposed,
In some cases, to the public interest, A reference to
the habits of the salmon will show this. Though
bred in one portion of the river, it descends to the
sea while only a few inches in length, and is there
reared to the greatest perfection. The river is only
its temporary residence, to which it returns in the
spawning season, but it is then unfit for food; and
during its continuance in fresh water it remains in a
lean and exhausted condition. Shortly after its return
to the sea it recovers its vigour, its flesh becomes firm,
and it is again fit to become the food of man. If the
upper proprietors were not in possession of existing
rights, which it would be wrong to take away, it would
seem that the largest quantity of fish of superior quality
could be obtained by confining the fishery to the mouth
of the river. Under existing circumstances, however,
if reward be not paid to the interests of the upper pro-
prietors, they would bezome indifferent to the preser-
vation of the fish, and the facility with which salmon
can now be brought to market having increased the
demand, there would be some danger of the breed
becoming extirpated. ‘The various modes of fishing,
both at the mouth and in other portions of the river,
ought to be so conducted as to give the upper pro-
prietors an interest in the conservation of the fish
during the spawning season; and those modes which
are positively injurious to all parties, and therefore to
the public, should not be permitted. The two chief
regulations for effecting these objects are, the observ-
ance of “ fence time,” and the weekly “ close time.”
The former refers to the season during which the
salmon is unfit for food preparatory to spawning, and
cannot be infringed upon without diminishing the num-
1837.]
ber of fish. There is, however, great difficulty in as-
signing the period which should be considered as fence
time, as the habits of the fish are affected by local in-
fluences, by the difference hetween the temperature of
one river and another, and by other circumstances; and
if the time for commencing the fishing
too lone, a considerable number of salon would have
left the river, and the upper proprietors would be injured.
At present the legal time for the commencement of the
season in Scotland is the Ist of February, and it ter-
minates on the 14th of September. If there were no
private interests to consult, the season might commence
later and finish earlier, which would occasion the mar-
kets to be more largely supplied, and with salmon of a
finer kind. The weekly close time is a regulation
demanded in the interest of the upper proprietors, and
also for the general interests of the fishery. It extends
from Saturday evening to Monday morning; during
which time no impediments to the free progress of the
fish up the river are allowed to remain. The obstruc-
tions caused by stake or stagwe-nets, cruive-dykes, weirs,
or other causes, are required to be removed, or so
rerulated as not to oppose the ascent of the salmon.
By this means the fish get into the upper portions of
the river, and fall to the share of the upper proprietors.
A large salmon river may be divided itito the follow-
ine portions :—The first comprehends the estuary and
the coast for a short distance; the second that part of
the river affected by the tide; and the third includes the
remaining part of the upper stream. In each of these
portions of the river a mode of fishing is practised which
is peculiar to itself, and is not so well adapted to other
parts. Stake-nets and stawe-nets are used at the mouth
of the river ; the coble-net or sean in the tideway ; and
the greatest variety of modes are practised in the upper
part of the river. Some of these different method:
will now be described :—
Stage-nets.—This contrivance for taking salmon has
been superseded to a great extent by the stake-nets,
which are much more efficient. ‘They are only adapted
for the coast, or the tideway of a river, and like the
stake-nets are stretched out between high and low-
water mark. ‘The “ leader,” which terminates at high-
water mark, is formed of stakes, between which branches
of trees are interwoven, resembling wicker-work. The
part where the stage and nets are fixed touches at its
extremity the line of low water. ‘The fishermen are
stationed on the top of the stage or platform, and see
or feel when a fish enters one of the bag-nets, which is
immediately drawn up to the top of the stage, and
the fish taken out and killed. A ‘“‘ leader ” is sometimes
attached to the end of the stage standing seaward,
in order to increase the chance of directing the fish
into the nets. The stage-net is comparatively useless
except it be well attended to by the fisherman.
[Stage-Net.]
Slake-nets:—Stake-nets were introduced about 100
years ago, and were first used on the Solway, when they
were termed “raise” or ‘‘ rise” nets. The net, which
THE PENNY MAGAZINE,
were delayed
173
was nearly in the form of a crescent, was tied to the top
of stakes, and rose with the flowing of the tide, catch-
ing the fish only at the ebb. Afterwards improvements
were made by which the nets were rendered efficient
both during the flood and ebb-tide. They did not
become general four many years, and there were none
on the Frith of Tay before 1797, where they proved
so advantageous that double the number of salmon
were taken than before they were in use; and in the
course of ten or twelve years there were more than
thirty stake-nets in the Tay. As many as 500 salmon
and erilses have been taken at one time in a stake-net :
and at one near Boughty Castle as many salmon as
filled 199 boxes have been caught in two days and a
half. ‘This is by far the most advantageous of any of
the means employed for taking salmon. Pools are
made within the ‘‘ courts” or “ chambers” of the net for
keeping the fish alive, but when this is not done the
fishermen visit the nets before the tide has receded.
Stake-nets are only used where the tide is constantly
ebbing or flowing, and are confined within the limits
of low-water mark, as they are not adapted to the
channel or stream; and unless the stakes are fixed in
rocky ground they will not remain firm. They are
visible at several miles’ distance and serve to warn
vessels off rocks and shallow banks both by-night as
well as by day, in consequence of the noise which the
water makes in rushing through them, indicating their
vicinity when they are not themselves distinctly seen.
The accompanying cut shows the form of the stake-
net, stretching from high to low-water mark. The
two lines of stakes at each end, hung with netting,
obstruct the progress of the fish in their passage up
the river, and are termed ‘ leaders,” being intended to
conduct the fish into the inner court or chamber, within
which, at one end, there are smaller divisions or cham-
bers in which they are taken. The court opposed to
the flow of the tide only takes fish when it is a flood-
tide; but as salmon often move backwards and forwards
in the tideway, some stake-nets are placed in a direc-
tion to catch them when the tide ebbs. The spawned
o¢ unclean fish are not caught in the stake-nets, nor
are the fry, owing to their keeping the middle of the
stream in consequence of their being in a comparatively
weak state, while the clean fish, which is in the best
condition for food, and in a state of vigour and healih,
roams at large throughout the shallow and deep water.
Coble-nets.—While stake-nets are only of use where
the tide in ebbing leaves extensive dry banks, the coble-
net is peculiarly adapted to a higher portion of the
river. If used in the exstuary, or on tlie coast, the
eround-rope is liable to be lifted by the swell in the
water, when the fish enclosed in the net escape; and
it is also inefficient in such situations from the small
portion of the river or sea which it can command. On
the contrary, where the distance between the banks is
174
less, and the current not so powerful, the coble-net is
used with much effect; particularly in the pools of the
river, which is a favourite resort of the salmon. ‘This
mode of fishing, however, is considered injurious both
to the spawn and the fry,—to the former, in consequence
of the ground-ropes of the net being trailed over the
top of the spawning-beds and raking them up,—and to
the latter from the bag of the net being constructed in
such a manner as not to allow of their escape. The
coble-net is used somewhat in the same way as the sean
in England. The fishermen go out in a flat-bottomed
boat, and do not become experienced seamen in this
fishery. A description of boat called the trows, has
lately been introduced in some places instead of the
coble. It consists of two separate boats in the shape of
a coffin, fastened tovether at each end, and smaller at
one end than the other: the nets used are called saul-
ing-nets, from their not dragging on the ground. Fish
caught in the coble-net are not taken in sv good a
state as by the stake-net, as they bruise one another
while being hanled over the uneven and rocky bottom
of the river, and when brought on dry land they onght
to be immediately taken to the ice-house, but often
remain a considerable time, waiting for the gatherine-
boat, which perhaps only makes a round once in twelve
hours, to collect the fish at each station. ‘The fish are
also often brnised in consequence of the clumsy manner
in which they are killed, which is by a stroke on the
head with a stick. The process of takine the salmon
out of the stake-net, and of dispatching them, is mueh
better managed. ‘They are raised with a small hand-
uet, and the fisherman puts one of his hands round the
head of the salmon, keeping the body confined within
the net, and with the other hand he hits the fish a
smart stroke on the head. It is then put into a cart
or boat, which is in attendance while the men take ont
the fish; and when the net is emptied, the fish are at
once carried to the ice-house. The number taken by
this coble-net at a single haul is too small to render it
worth while conveying them directly to the ice-house;
and salmon taken just after the gathering-boat has
departed to another station may remain exposed until
another tide, or about twelve hours.
Cruives.— A cruive ts an artificial space or dyke in
the river, formed of stones, projected in such a manner
that the fish, in pushing up the river, are led into them,
and they are then enclosed asinatrap. The right of
establishing a cruive has generally originated in a royal
erant; and it 1s perhaps one of the modes of salmon-
taking which is most liable to abuse, as it may be made
an obstacle for preventing the ascent of the fish towards
the stream-head, thus confining the fish to the portion
of the river belonging to the proprietor of the cruive,
and defrauding the upper proprietor. The cruive is
less efficient than the net, though the former does not
require the constant attendance of the fishermen. To
prevent its being injurious to other proprietors it requires
to be strictly regulated, and fish of a certain size should
at all times be permitted to pass through, care being
also taken that during the weekly close time there re-
mains no impediment to the progress of the full-grown
fish up the river.
Still-fishing.—One end of the net is held by a man
on the shore, and the fisherman goes out in a buat with
the other end in his hand. When a fish is seen
approaching, it is surrounded with the net and pulled
ashore. ‘Phe tnode of stilling practised at Thurso is by
means of a very long net, which is stretched out about
half its length, in a direct line, into the sea. Two men
are placed in a boat, one at each end, looking in opposite
directions, until they see a fish leap or swim, when they
shoot the net in the direction which it is supposed to
have taken, and on the fish being enclosed it is dragged
ashore.
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
[May 6,
The above are the chief modes by which salmon are
taken on a large seale for public consumption; brit a
variety of other means are practised, particularly in the
upper portions of the river, and the following is a notice
of several of them.
The Halve-net.—This is a net fixed at the end of a
pole fourteen or sixteen feet in length, the mouth of
which is stretched out. ‘The fisherman carries the net
upon his shoulder down to the river, or frith, and
putting it in the water awaits the entrance of fish.
This method is munch practised in the Solway, and
though not adapted for taking a large number of fish,
yet a considerable quantity are thus caught.
Cairn-net.—This mode of taking salmon can only be
resorted to when rivers are flooded. A quantity of
stones are placed in the river, near the bank, when there
is a fresh or flood, and in the eddy or pool a net of a
peculiar description is placed. In close time, when
this plan is chiefly practised, the fish seek the side of
the river, and more especially is this the case when the
current is strong and rapid, and they are therefore easily
taken in the cairn-nets, which are only used by poachers.
These nets are of little value, and can be used without
much risk of detection; and yet in a single evening as
many as from twelve to fourteen large unspawned
salmon have been taken by them.
Setéing.—In the upper portion of a salmon-river, in
the long pools of deep clear water, a large number of
nets are placed in every direction; and the water being
disturbed by boats or lights, the salmon are driven into
the nets and canght.
Burning the Water, or Leistering.—The nets are
spread as in the manner described above, and one or
two persons arined with leisters stand in the boat. A
third individual, with a light, made generally of tarred
rags, stands in the centre; and the moment a fish is
observed within reach, it 1s immediately struck and
killed. In close time, in the higher districts of the
river, this mode is pursued, but without boats. It is
something like this mode which is so graphically de-
scribed by Sir Walter Scott in ‘Guy Mannering,’ and
which he says may be called a sort of salmon-huntine.
The account is as follows :—‘“* The chase, in which the
fish is pursued and struck with barbed spears, or a sort
of long-shafted trident, called a waster, is much prac-
tised at the mouth of the Esk, and in the other salmon
rivers of Scotland. The sport is followed by day and
nieht, but most commonly in the latter, when the fish
are discovered by means of torches or fire-wrates, filled
with blazing fragments of tar-barrels, which shed a
strong, though partial, light upon the water. Upon
the present occasion, the principal party were embarked
in a crazy boat, upon a part of the river which was
enlarged and deepened by the restraint of a mill-wear,
while others, like the ancient Bacchanals in their gain-
bols, ran along the banks, brandishing their torches
and spears, and pursuing the salmon; some of which
endeavoured to escape up the stream, while others,
shrouding themselves under roots of trees, fraements
of stones, and large rocks, attempted to conceal them-
selves from the researches of the fishermen. ‘These
the party in the boat detected by the slightest indica-
tions; the twinkling of a fin, the rising of an alr-well,
was sufficient to point out to these adroit sportsmen in
what direction to use their weapons.” A hundred
salinon were often taken during one of these animated
excursions, and, it 1s added, that ** the best were se-
lected for the nse of the principal farmers; the others
divided among their shepherds, cottars, dependants,
and others of inferior rank who attended. ‘These fish,
dried in the tnrf-smoke of their cabins or shealine's,
formed a savoury addition to the mess of potatoes,
mixed with onions, which were the principal part of
their winter food.” Spearing salmon by torch-light is
1837.]
sometimes practised near the mouth of a river, or in
one of the lochs, when the scene is peculiarly striking,
reseinbling those which take place in the north of Eu-
rope, a view of which was given in No. 324.
Spearing.—Salmon are killed by this method in
nearly all the rivers of the United Kingdom. In the
upper parts of the Dart, in Devonshire, the destruction
by spearing is carried on in the following manner :—
About the middle of September, the spearers clear out
the resting-places of the salmon, and, taking away the
Jarwest stones, put in about a dozen stones perfectly
white, which they arrange ina circle. ‘The spearsmen
return to the place about ten or eleven o'clock at night,
and if the stones are not discernible, they are sure a fish
is there, and strike at them with a ten-pronged spear.
This is an illegal mode of fishing, but there is great
difficulty in repressing it. In Scotland the spearing of
salmon is pursued in a more legitiinate manner, and is
frequently termed ‘* stream-fishing.” A dyke of loose
stones is constructed in the river, which acts as a]
“leader” to the fish coming up the stream, directing
them to the channel nearest the bank, At.the end of
the dyke there is a hut, constructed of branches of trees,
in which the fisherman awaits the approach of the sal-
mon, which he strikes with a five-pronged instrument.
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[Spearing or Stream Fishing.]
Angling.—This is a means of providing for private
consumption, and may be regarded more a matter of
amusement and recreation than as a means of livelli-
hood. Angling is extensively pursued on the banks of
the most productive salmon rivers. On the ‘Tweed,
within the space of half a mile, from seventy to eighty
people may sometimes be seen thus engaged. ‘The
destruction of fry is very great by this means, twenty
dozen having been killed by the rod in one day by one
person. Angling is permitted about the months of
April and May.
[To be continued.}
BALTIC OR GERMAN PROVINCES OF RUSSIA.
[From a Correspondent recently resident, }
Tue provinces of Esthonia, Livonia, and Courland,
situated to the south of the Gulf of Finland, and to
the east of the Baltic, form an integral part of the
Russian Empire, and from the amount of their popu-
lation, which is comparatively much greater than in any
other part of that hnge realm, and their importance in
an agricultural point of view, rank high among the
tributary lands of the great autocrat. ‘hey are deno-
minated the Baltic or German provinces, the higher
classes having still retained the language and customs
of their German ancestors, and would be ill-inclined
to change that title for the name of Russians. These
provinces were originally possessed by three distinct
Selavonian tribes, of which Esthonia and Livonia were
overrun by the Danes in the twelfth century ; they all
became tributary to the German empire, or tle ‘Teutonic
Knights, between the thirteenth and fourteenth century,
having, like the other divisions of Germany, their sepa-
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
175
rate ducal sovereigns. In the sixteenth century, Poland,
which was already possessed of Courland, seized upon
Iesthonia and Livonia; but Russia and Sweden dis-
puted her right to them conjointly in the seventeenth
century, and the contest terminated in Esthonia and
Livonia being ceded to Sweden by the peace of Oliva,
1660. ‘They were finally, however, given to Russia, in
1721, by the peace of Nystadt. Courland was not in-
corporated with the Russian empire till the year 1795.
The principal towns of these provinces consist of Revel,
a seaport, the capital of Esthonia, with 13,000 inhabit-
ants; Riga, the capital of Livonia, and also a seaport,
with 30,000 inhabitants; Dorpat, a university in the
saine province, with a population of 12,000, inclusive
of 300 or 400 students ; and Mittau, the capital of
Courland, with about 12,000 inhabitants. Riga, which
1s second only to St. Petersburg in commercial import-
ance, is visited by about 300 ships during the course
of the season; a period which commences at the first
breaking up of the ice in April, and lasts till the return
of frost in October or the beginning of November.
Pernau, another small seaport in Livonia, situated more
northerly than Riga, has a population of about 4000,
and is resorted to by about seventy or eighty vessels.
Those fron England are generaily laden with salt,
which they exchange for cargoes of corn and flax ;
while those from Denmark, Prussia, and the Hanseatic
ports, usually come with ballast only, and proceed with
their cargoes of corn and flax to Portugal and Spain,
with the commerce of which countries these ports are
principally engaged. Since the restrictions laid upon
the city of Revel by the Emperor Alexander, who, to
favour the commerce of St. Petersburg, sacrificed its
best interests as a place of trade, this old:town, which
bears much resemblance to the Hanseatic towns, with
which it once competed in commercial importance, has
declined most materially; the number of ships now
resorting to it not amounting to more than twenty or
thirty. The same system of short-sighted policy is at
the present moment being enforced against the town of
Pernau, where great fears are jnstly entertained for the
continuance of its trade.
Notwithstanding these proofs of the despotic power
exercised by Russia over these provinces, their g:overn-
ments have been allowed to retain mich of their pristine
German form, and the governors appointed as viceroys
over each territory, have as yet been chosen by the em-
peror from among their own nobility. The peasantry
still retain their three vernacnlar tongues, with but
little admixture of the German language of their, till
lately, feudal masters; for having only since the year
1816 received the privilege of freedom, they have made
but slight advances in civilization, and are but little
distinguished from the Russian peasantry, who, still
bound strictly to the soil on which they are born, are
dependent for comfort and misery, wealth or poverty,
on the arbitrary will of a tyrannical or kind master, of
whose landed property and live stock they form a
portion.
Under these circumstances, it cannot be a subject of
wonder that the peasantry of these provinces should
stand at a very low grade of intellect. ‘Their freedom
has, as yet, not existed long enough to produce any
very favourable result, nor 1s it of a kind at all likely
to raise them much in the scale of humanity; for,
although they are now at liberty to change their places
of residence under certain restrictions necessary for
maintaining social order, such as due notice of quitting,
payment of debts, &c., yet their servitude has retained
its original badge of slavery, ameliorated only by limits
being placed against undue exaclion on the part of the
lord, and insubordination on that of the peasant. His
labour is not computed either by its quantify or its
quality ; he bas to employ a certain number of days in
176
the service of his lord, and as this, although really
equivalent to a rent for ie land, is a portion of the old
system of feudal bondage ; he Lae upon it as a hard-
ship, seeks to avoid it by every subterfuge in his power,
and performs his task as slovenly as he ‘possibly can In
the presence of the overseer, withdut the sight of whose
uplifted stick he would literally do nothing.
Under other laws, and with, consequently, more
awakened intellect and greater energy of character, the
peasantry of these provinces might be considered a
most favoured race. ‘They are all, in point of fact,
occupiers of land; for a large portion of every estate is
divided off into small farms, which are solely tenanted
by the peasants, who pay their rent in labour and a
part of their produce. A peasant occupying one of the
largest of these farms, has daily to send on to his land-
lord’s fields a man, a woman, and a horse, with all the
necessary implements of husbandry ; and is called a
six-day peasant. A smaller farm entitles the landlord
to the work of his tenant’s servant and horse only
during’ four days in the week, and the tenant is conse-
quently denominated a four-day peasant. The work-
rent is thus proportioned to the size of the land; the
two-day and single-day peasants, however, rarely give
nore than their own labour, not being able from the
size of their land to keep servants expressly for that
purpose.
Ihe size of an estate is estimated by the number of
its peasant farms. The most prevalent number may
be said to vary between twenty and fifty of these six-
day farms, but there are many estates possessed of a
larger amount. The actual dimensions of landed pro-
perty are not calculated by any measurement analogous
to our divisions into acres, poles, roods, &c.; but a
term of nominal value only, and referring more to the
number of hands on the estate than its size in square
miles, 1s made nse of. ‘This is ealled a haaken, and
vomprises two six-day peasants ; 1t possesses little worth
as a test of the actual extent of an estate, the peasant-
farms varying in size extremely, according to the qua-
lity of the land, their right to felling wood in the pro-
prietor’s forests, and other circumstances.
Ihe inconveniences resulting from such a system, or
rather non-system, of measurement, have however be-
come so evident to the greater number of landholders,
that during the last few years many estates have been
surveyed, and accurate maps made of them. ‘The mea-
surements employed are the Russian dessatin, eqnal to
25 Euglish acres, and: wersts, which are 3772 feet in
length. The crown estates in these provinces, of which
there are a large number, are at the present moment
uider the hands of several land-surveyors, who receive
yearly salaries for their work; a plan which is likely to
make their surveys a task almost as endless in duration
as Penelope’s web. ‘The term “haaken,” however, still
remains in use, and all purchases of estates are reg@u-
lated accordingly.
‘Ihe quantity of land cultivated by the proprietor for
himself is in proportion to his strength of hands; and
as we have already stated that an estate possessing fifty
six-day peasants can command the labonr of a hundred
men and women, and fifty horses or oxen, daily, we
might naturally enough suppose that this would be
sufficient for a very large extent: but the difference
between the free working labourer and these quasi
serfs is nowhere more strongly exemplified than by
the small portion of his great extent of land which the
proprietor is able to keep in cultivation. To give a
fair idea of these estates, and the extent of uncultivated
land, we must mention that in Esthonia most of the
estates possessing forty to fifty six-day farms, will oc-
cupy a space of fifty to sixty square wersts, or from
thirty to thirty-five English square miles, not above a
quarter of which is cultivated ;
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
the remainder consisting |
[May 6,.1837.
in woods and turf-lands covered with underwood, or pre-
senting the more dreary aspect of undrained marshes.
In Livonia and Courland, where the forests are more
extensive, it is net uncommon for an estate to possess
woods alone to the amount of sixty to eighty square
miles, in addition to the peasants’ farms, and the arable
and pasture lands of the proprietor. Such an estate is
valued at from 15,0002. to 18,0002. ‘The annual returns
are expected to amount to eight or ten per cent., inde-
pendent of all provisions for the family and household.
{To be continued.)
A Russian Bath.—The room into which I was ushered
was a small neat dressing-room, warmed at a temperature
of eighty degrees of Fahrenheit (which might be increased
or diminished at pleasure by opening the door of the bath-
room, or the window of the dressing-room), and furnished
with a sofa, chairs, &c. JI undressed immediately, and
walked into the bath-room, the floor of which, although
only at a temperature of 100 degrees, seemed to me insuf-
ferably hot. In one corner of this room stood a large stove,
which reached almost to the ceiling. On the side of this
stove were four wooden shelves or stages, one above another,
each furnished with a rest for the head. The temperature
increases as you ascend. Whether I was not fully aware
of this, or whether in my agitation I had forgotten it, I do
not know; but soit was, that before I had been in the room
a minute, I found myself on the Inghest shelf, from which
I made I believe hardly more than one step to the floor, for
the heat seemed at that time unendurable, even for a mo-
ment: the truth is, that until the perspiration 1s completely
established, a sensation of fever is felt, with burning of the
head and throbbing of the arteries; but when the pores are
once opened, every uneasy sensation ceases, and you mount
from stage to stage, wishing every two or three minutes for an
increase of heat, until at last you actually find yourself, as I
did, lying on the highest stage ofall, at a temperature of 124
degrees, without feeling the slightest inconvenience. On the
shelves which surround the room there is an array of briglit
brass basins; and on one side are two brass cocks, which sup-
ply cold and warm water, and a pipe with a laree rose, which
acts as a shower-bath. I went to the bath many times after
this, and feeling much more at my ease, I’ proceeded regu-
larly'in the operation.- First I mounted’ one.of the lower
shelves, and after remaining there a few minutes, I de-
scended to the floor and washed the whole of my’ body in
cold water. I then lathered myself from head to foot with
soap, rubbing every part of the body with a handful of the
soft inner bark of the linden tree. After a second ‘sprink-
ling of cold water I mounted to the highest stave, and im-
mediately the perspiration streamed from every pore in
such profusion that I could hardly believe I’ had wiped my-
self dry before I mounted the stage. So case-hardened
had I now become, that I sat some minutes on the top of
the stove at a temperature of 132° without feeling more in-
convenience than | lad experienced when I first entered
the bath-room. But I found afterwards that I had by no
means felt the highest degree of heat which a Russian bath
is capable of affording ; for when I was in one at Moscow,
our Italian valet de place suddenly entered the room, and
seizing a large vessel of water, dashed the contents into the
furnace, which is filled with hot cannon balls. Unfortu-
nately I had not then my thermometer by me, but from the
sensation I experienced, I should think the heat for two or
tliee seconds could not have been much less than 170°.—
Rev. R. B. Pauls Journal.
*.* In the Prospectus of a new weekly newspaper, ‘ The Guide,’
es stated that the publication will be furnished by the Agents of
the ‘ Penny Magazine,’ of whom a fist 1s given. This announce-
ment was unauthorized by the Publishers of the ‘ Penny Magazine ;’
and although their Agents are, of course, at liberty to sell what
publications they please, it 1s necessary here to state that there is no
connexwn Whatever, either hterary or commercial, between the two
works, and that the Publishers of the * Penny Magazine’ have no
interest or concern, directly or indirectly, with the newspaper in
question.
*,* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at
59, Lincoln’s Inn Fields.
LONDON: CHARLES KNIGHT & CO., 22, LUDGATE STREET.
Printed by Witt1amM CioweEs and Sons, Stamford Street.
THE PENNY MAGAZINE
OF THE
society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge.
323. ]
PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY.
[May 13, 1837.
A LOOKING-GLASS FOR LONDON—No. XIII.
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{The Bank of England. ]
Tue ‘ Bank” (as the Bank of England is commonly
termed, by way both of distinction and abbreviation,)
has been described in No. 156 of the * Penny Maga-
zine. ‘There appeared, also, in Volume V. a series of
illustrations of ‘‘ English Coins.” This paper, there-
fore, will be confined to a brief view of the History and
Present State of Banking in London.
The Jews and the Lombards were our earliest money-
brokers. “By Lombards, is generally understood mer-
chants from the Italian republics of Genoa, Lucca,
Florence, and Venice. Stow, describing the streets in
the vicinity of the present buildings of the Bank and
Royal Exchange, says, “Then have ye Lombard
Street, so called of the Longobards and other imer-
chants, strangers of divers nations, assembling’ there
twice every day, of what original or continuance I have
not read of record, more than that Edward II., in the
twelfth year of his reign, confirmed a messuage some-
time belonging to Robert Turke, abutting on Lombard
Street toward the south, and toward Cornhill on the
north, for the merchants of Florence: which proveth
that street to have had the name of Lombard Street
before the reign of Edward II.” Ina statute of the
twenty-fifth year of Edward III. it is said, ‘* Whereas,
much people of the realm which have made contracts
with Lombards, that be named of the companies dwell-
ing in the same realm, which Lombards, after that they
Vou, VI.
have made their obligations to their creansours [credi-
tors], have suddenly escaped out of the realm without
agreement made to their said creansours, in deceit and
great damage of the people: It is accorded and as-
sented,—-That if any merchant of the company acknow-
ledge himself bound, that the company shall answer of
the debt. So that another merchant which ts not of the
company shall not be thereby grieved or impeached.”
In the narrow street called Old Change, which runs
from Cheapside towards the river, was formerly the
office of the King’s Exchanger. The exchanging of the
coin of the realm for foreign coin or bullion was early
held to be an especial royal prerogative—a “‘ flower of
the crown.” The ‘statute concerning False Money,”
passed in 1299 (27 Ed. I.), inflicted the penalty of
loss of goods and life for bringing in base money into
the country ; but permitted all persons, of whatever
country or nation, to bring ‘‘to our Exchange all sorts
of money of good silver, of whatever foreign coin or
whatever value they may be.” In the Act of Ed-
ward III., already quoted, “It is accorded, that it
shall be lawful for every man to exchange gold for
silver, so that no man hold nor take profit for making
such exchange, upon forfeiture of the money so ex-
changed: except the King’s Exchangers, which take
profit of such exchange, according to the ordinance
made,”
2A
178
The goldsmiths, however, became dealers in foreign
coin, and in spite of the king’s Exchanger, took ‘* profit
for making such exchange.” Their shops were chiefly
on the south side of Cheapside, and extended from the
Old ?Change to Bucklersbury. There were goldsmiths
uso in Lombard Street. Whatever may have been
lone between individuals in the way of lending and
borrowing money, (taking interest for the use of money
was not allowed by law. till 1546) the practice could
not be general; for down to the year 1640, the mer-
chants of London were in the habit of lodging their
money at the Mint, in the Tower of London, as a place
of security ; the Mint was, in fact, their bank. But
Charles I. having in that year taken possession of
200,000/., which was lying at the Mint, destroyed its
character as a place of security, and compelled the
merchants to keep their money at home. On the
breaking out of the civil war, it became a common
practice for the apprentices and clerks of the citizens
to rob their masters or employers, and run off. This
opened the way for the goldsmiths to become bankers.
They received money in trust, allowing interest for it,
and their receipts, or acknowledgment of the sums en-
trusted with them, began to pass from hand to hand,
just as bank notes do now. They had been in the
habit of lending money to the king, on the security of |
the taxes. This practice they extended to private in-
dividuals, on the security either of their credit or of
goods; and thus, previous to the establishment of the
Bank of England, the goldsmiths were the bankers of
London, and had laid the foundation of the present
metropolitan banking system.
The Bank of England—the largest bank in the
world—was founded in 1694. Several schemes had
been suggested by different individuals for a banking
establishment; but at last the project of a Scotch
ventleman of the name of Patterson was acted on.
The government of William II]. being in great want
of money, it was proposed to lend it 1,200,000/., on
the condition of the lenders receiving a charter of In-
corporation as a banking company. ‘This was agreed
to: the subscription list was filled in ten days, and on
the 27th of July, 1694, the Bank received its charter
of incorporation. By this charter the management
of the Bank was committed to a governor, deputy-
governor, and twenty-four directors. ‘The charter was
at first limited to eleven years; but it has been re-
newed at successive periods since—the last renewal
was in 1833, when it was extended till 1855, with a
proviso that in 1845, if Parliament think fit, and the
money owing by government to the Bank be paid up,
the charter can then be withdrawn. Some alterations
were made in the management of the Bank, on the
renewal of the charter in 1833, and it was then directed
that a statement of the affairs of the Bank should be
sent weekly to the Chancellor of the Exchequer, and
that an average statement of these accounts should be
published quarterly.
The amount of money lent by the Bank to govern-
ment gradually increased; in 1833 it was 14,686,8041.
It has since been reduced to 11,015,100/. This large
sum is the security given to the public jor the solidity
of the Bank.
The ** Bank” is certainly an enormous pile of build-
ing. It was referred to the late Sir John Soane to say
what he thought would be a fair rent for the Bank,
used as it is for its present purposes. His opinion was,
that 35,000/. per annum was a fair charge for rent, and
50001. for fixtures, repairs, &c., making 40,000/. In
1832, there were employed at the Bank 820 clerks and
porters, and 38 printers and engravers; and there were
also 193 pensioners, chiefly superannuated clerks, who
received in pensions 31,243/., averaging 161/. to each.
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
TMay 13,
In the same year the salaries and pensions amounted to
218,003/., the house expenses to 39,187/., the directors’
allowance was 80001., and the rent, &c., was set down,
as already stated, at 40,0007. The salaries of the
officers at the branch banks in the country amounted
to 25,0002.
The principal rooms of ‘the Bank are freely open to
the public during banking hours. Speakine of the
pay-hall, the Baron Dupin, in his ‘ Commercial Power
of Great Britain,’ says, ‘“‘ The administration of a
French bureau, with all its inaccessibilities, would be
startled at the view of this hall!” The largest amount
of gold coin that could be paid in the banking hours of
one day by twenty-five clerks, if counted by hand to
the persons demanding it, is about 50,0007. On the
14th of May, 1832, 307,000/. in gold was paid. But
the greater part of this sum was paid in the following
way :—the tellers connted 25 sovereions into one scale
and 25 into the other, and if they balanced, continued
the operation until there were 200 in each scale. In
this way 1000/. can be paid in a few minutes. Bankers
and other persons taking large sums in gold from the
Bank receive them by weight, instead of by the more
tedious operation of counting out each sovereign. Mr.
Horsely Palmer stated to the Parliamentary committee
of 1832, that if gold was paid by weight, in bags, the
Bank could pay almost any sum in one day.
In addition to the Bank of England, there are, in
London, at present, seventy-six banking establishments.
This includes four or five branches of provincial banks.
Amongst the present banking establishments of Lon-
don, there are three which were in existence before the
Bank of England. These are, the Messrs. Child and
Co. and the Messrs. Hoares in Fleet Street, and the
Messrs. Snow and Co. in the Strand,
About the year 1775 the bankers of the “ city” set
on foot an economical plan for the purpose of saving
both time and money. ‘They established the CLEARING
House in Lombard Street. A great part of the pay-
ments which are made to and by bankers in the course
of a day, are made on the authority of cheques, or bills
of exchange. At certain hours in each day, a clerk woes
from each banking establishment to the Clearing House
in Lombard Street, taking with him all the drafts which
have been paid into his bankine-house addressed to
other bankers. These are placed in drawers, which are
allotted in the Clearing House to each banker. Each.
clerk gives credit for the drafts which he finds in his
own drawer, against the drafts which he has placed in
the drawers of other bankers. By this means, the
cheques drawn on one banker are cancelled by the
cheques which he holds on others. After four o’clock
on each day balances are struck. .In 1810, when forty-.
six banks settled with each other at the Clearing House;
the daily amount of accounts which were thus cancelled
varied from 5,000,000/. to as high as 15,000,0001. ;
while the actual money, or bank-notes, required to pay
off odd balances was only from 250,000/. to 500,0001.
Mr. Gilbart, the present manager of the London and
Westminster Bank, states, in his ‘ History of Banking,’
published in 1834, that in that year the number of
bankers who settled with each other at the Clearing
House was only thirty. The number is probably in-
creased at present. ‘There are two inspectors at the
Clearing House, with salaries, whose business is to
superintend, and detect errors which may be made by
clerks in the hurry of business. The “ west-end ”
bankers are not connected with the Clearing-House.
Lombard Street still preserves much of its old cha-
racter. ’ Stow describes it as “‘ throughont graced with
good and lofty buildings, amongst which are many that
surpass those in other streets, and generally is inhabited
by goldsmiths, bankers, mercers, and other eminent
1837.]
tradesmen.”
1666; but at the present day it is still inhabited by
** bankers and other eminent tradesmen.” There are
sixteen banking establishments in it, besides stock and
bill-brokers.
Mr. Gilbart states that the first Run in the history
of Banking in this country occurred in 1667, twenty-
seven years before the establishment of the Bank of
England. The Dutch Admiral, De Ruyter, had taken
Sheerness, and had sent his vice-admiral, Van Ghent,
up the Medway to destroy Chatham. The greatest
alarm prevailed in London; and we learn from Pepys’s
* Diary,’ that confusion and imbecility prevailed in the
councils of the government.
Various efforts were made to restore confidence. There
was another extraordinary Run in 1745 on the Bank
of Iineland, when the army of the Pretender was
rapidly marching on the metropolis. A public meeting
was held, and upwards of a thousand merchants signed
a declaration expressing their readiness to take bank
notes. At that critical period the Bank paid cash in
silver instead of gold to gain time. A still more re-
markable run, from the consequences which it produced,
was in 1797. Fears of foreign invasion prevailed, the
government required money, and public confidence was
shaken. On Saturday the 25th of February, 1797,
there was only 1,270,000/. in coin and bullion remain-
ing in the coffers of the bank. On Monday an order
in council was distributed among the crowd assembled
at the Bank to demand gold, intimating that govern-
ment had exempted the Bank from payments in cash.
It was then that notes for so small a sum as ld. were
authorized to be issned. The restriction of cash pay-
ments continued during the long and expensive war.
The Bank made an effort to return to cash payments
from 1817 to 1819; but it was not till the Ist of May,
1821, that payments in specie legally and permanently
commenced. Since that time, except for a short period
at the end of 1825, Bank of England notes under 5/. have
been withdrawn from circulation, and ultimately all bank
notes under 5/. were prohibited throughout Engiand.
Many of the readers of the ‘ Penny Magazine’ will
remember what is termed the “ panic” of 1825. ‘he
run on the Bank of England was the greatest that had
taken place since 1797. In April or May, 1825, the
Bank had about 10,000,000 of bullion, and by Novem-
ber it was reduced to 1,300,000/. During the run,
gold was landed over as soon as called for, in bags of
twenty-five sovereigns each. But at that critical time,
says a Bank Director, * bullion came in, and the Mint
coined; they worked double tides,—in short they were
at work night and day ; we were perpetually receiving
gold from abroad, and coin from the Mint.’ In one day
the Bank discounted 4200 bills. On the 8th of Decem-
ber, 1825, the discounts at the Bank were 7,500,000Z. ;
on the 15th they were 11,500,000/.; on the 22nd
14,500,000/.; and on the 29th they were 15,900,000¢.
The annual average of commercial paper under dis-
count at the Bank was 2,946,500/. in 1795; in 1800 it
was 6,401,900/.; from 1805 to 1816 it varied from
11,000,000/. to 20,000,000/.; from 1817 to 1826 it
varied from about: 2,000,000/. to 6,000,000/.; in 1830
it was only 919,900/., and in 1831, 1,533,600/. ‘The
annual average of loss by bad debts on discounts has
been, from 1795 to 1831, both inclusive, 31,6961.
The Bank of England acts as the chief agent of the
Government in the management of the National Debt.
It receives and registers transfers of stock from one
public creditor to another, and makes the quarterly
payments of the dividends. For this purpose it em-
ploys more than 400 clerks, porters, and messengers ;
and, previous to the passing of the Act of 1833, re-
ceived from the public, in payment for this service, the
The citizens ran to their |
coldsmiths or bankers to withdraw their money. |
THE PENNY. MAGAZINE. 179
It was destroyed in the Great Fire of | sum of 248,000/. per annum. Of this amount, 120,000/.
per annum is now abated in terms of that Act.
No bank having more than six partners can issue
bills or notes payable on demand in London, or within
sixty-five miles of it, during the continuance of the
charter of the Bank of England. The Act of Partia-
ment of 1833, which renewed the charter, made Bank
of England notes above 5/. a “ legal tender,” except at
the Bank itself, or its branches. Previous to that year,
the notes of country bankers were payable in gold:
they may now be paid either in gold or in Bank of
England notes; and these notes are also just as valid
in all payments as gold. Private banks in London,
having not more than six partners, may issue notes;
but they could not do it profitably in competition with
such a powerful and stable body as the Bank of Eng-
land. ‘The profits of the private bankers are derived in
a great measure: from the disconntinge of mercantile
bills. They do not allow interest for deposits; for the
depositors being chiefly persons in business, whose
money in such a place as London is not permitted to
lie still, the profit from its use would not justify the
allowance of interest.
In 1815, the average of private deposits at the Bank
of England was between 1,000,000/. and 2,000,0001. ;
in 1825 it was about 3,000,000/.; and in 1830 it had
risen to between 6,000,000/. and 7,000,000. From the
statements published in the ‘ Gazette, it appears that,
during last year, the circulation of the Bank was
between 17,600,000/. and 18,000,000/.; the deposits,
about 14,000,000/.; the securities, between 28,000,0002.
and 29,000,000/.: and the bullion amounted, in March,
1836, to 7,701,000/., and in October to 5,257,000.
The last quarterly statement is :—~
Quarterly Average of the Weekly Liabilities and Assets of
th: Bank of Kugland, from January 10 to April 4, 1837,
inclusive, published pursuant to the Act 3 and 4 Will. IV.,
cap. 98.
Liabilities. Assets.
Circulation .... £18,432,000 | Securities. .....£28,843,000
Deposits......- 11,192,000 | Bullion........ 4,071,000
£29,624,000 £32,914,000
The total amount of loss from forgery sustained py
the Bank from 1822 to 1831 was 402,040/.; but of this
amount no less than 360,214/2. was sustained in the
year 1824, mainly caused by an individual whose fate
stronely excited public attention.
The immense mercantile business of London not only
gives employment to bulhon brokers and bill brokers,
but to notaries, the chief business of some of whom
consists in noting and protesting bills of exchange.
‘‘'The practice of noting bills of exchange,” says Mr.
Gilbart, “is not recognised by the laws of England.
It is said to have taken its rise from the following cir-
cumstance :—After the modern system of banking had
been established, it was customary for one of the clerks
of the bankine-house to act as notary. If the bill had
been presented in the morning, and was not paid, he
called in the evening to ask the reason of its non-
payment, and charged a small fee for this additional
trouble. By degrees the practice became established,
and ultitnately a notary-public was employed.” The
difference between the noting and protesting of a bill
of exchange is this; in noting, the notary, after having
presented the bill at the proper place, and demanded
payinent, attaches to it a small piece of paper, on which
he writes the amount of his charge, and the reason why
the bill is not paid—such as “ No effects’—* No ad-
vice’—“ Out, no orders’—‘* Will be paid to-morrow,”
&e. This piece of paper is called the notary’s ticket,
and the writing on it is called the notary’s answer.
The legal use of a notary is to furnish the proof of the
presentation of a bill.
2A 2
180
ON THE WINGS AND TAILS OF BIRDS.
[Concluded from No, 325.]
From the leading modifications exhibited in the wings
of birds, we turn to those presented by the ¢ai; the
osseous structure of which, with the mode in eal
ihe feathers are ordinarily arranged, has already been
pointed out. Even more numerous than those of the
wings are the diversities of form and size presented by
this organ; diversities more or less directly influencing
the character of the flight. In some instances the tail
is reduced to a mere rudiment, or is even wanting, and
in Others it is large and of great length. Nor is it only
from its form or size that the tail of the feathered race
influences the peculiar manner of flight: the texture
and quality of the feathers themselves are of great im-
portance. Where the tail consists of soft plume-like
feathers, we may at once set it down that the bird thus
furnished is if] adapted for aérial progression; and it
will be found, moreover, that the structure of the wings
and the nature of the general plumage will invariably
correspond with the characters of the tail; for wings
well calculated for aérial progression, and a tail un-
adapted for it, would be a violation of the laws of
nature, there being no contradiction of parts and pur-
poses in her ways. On the contrary, if the feathers of
the tail be firm, and the barbs close—though the tail
itself may not be very ample,—it will be of great avail.
There are many examples of birds with small tails being
endowed with surprising powers of flight; indeed in
most birds of rapid flight, the wines, when closed,
advance with their points to the end of the tail, or even
pass beyond it: we may mention the peregrine falcon,
and the swift; in the latter bird the tail-feathers are
only ten in number, and are far exceeded by the wings
when closed. Where, however, the tail is much reduced,
as in the king-fisher, its rudder-like power is evidently
diminished, and though the flight may still be rapid, it
Is necessarily straight and arrow-like, there being no
power of sailing in easy circles, or of making abrupt
turns and doubles, as, we see in the kite on the one
hand, and in the swallow on the other.
We need hardly say that in the act of flying, birds
expand their tails, and thus the extent of surface is in-
creased to their manifest advantage. Where the wings
are ample, and the tail ample at the same time, the
flight is easy and graceful; where the tail is short and
the wings long and vigorous, the flight is generally
rapid and impetuous ; but where the tail is long and
ample, and the wings rounded and short, as in the
magpie, the flight is laborious. The principal forms
assumed by the tail are as follows :—1, square, or even;
2, rounded ; 3, graduated regularly (every feather ad-
vancing in due degree), or zrregularly (some advancing
to an extreme beyond the others); 4, slightly forked
with rounded points; 5, more or less deeply P forked with
acute pownts ; 6, plumose.
The size of the tail varies under every modification
of form, and the forms themselves differ to a consider-
No. l.
a Ly:
A
s of the Kestrel, proud out a flight. ]
od ad 4 ae
\t
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
[May 12,
able degree, as it regards a very great number of minute
particulars ; the feathers also composing the tail exhibit
an infinity of differences, both in form and texture; we
can only therefore generalize on the subject.
The tail of the kestrel, No. 1, spread out as during:
flioht, appears as if rounded; hie closed, it is square ft
the extremity, or nearly so ; the same observation applies
to the tails of the peregrine falcon and of the common
buzzard, No.2, which are composed of feathers strong and
Nowe
\
Ih \
[Tail of the Common Buzzard. |
elastic, as are the quill-feathers of the wings; in the birds
of prey generally this form obtains, and the tail is ample;
in the secretary-bird of Africa, however, the two middle
tail-feathers are double the length of the rest; in the
kite, the tail is ample and forked; and in one species of
eagle it is graduated and wedge-shaped. In humming-
birds the tail differs greatly, being deeply forked in
some, as In the bar-tailed humming-bird; in others:
again it is rounded, in others graduated; and often
two lateral or two central feathers are greatly elongated.
No. 3 represents the rounded tail of one of these most
[Tail of a Humming-bird.}
[Tail of the Heron. ]
brilliant of the feathered race: it consists of firm
elastic feathers. In No. 4, the tail of the heron, we
have an example of a moderately rounded form, the
shape of the tail when closed tending towards an oval,
the greatest breadth being in the centre. In the
heron and its allies the tail is short, and covered by
the wings when closed. In the sandpiper (totanus),
No. 5, the tail is short and rounded, and consists of
small ‘pointed feathers. No. 6, the tail of the coot
spread out : when closed it is somewhat wedge-shaped
and is very short. Neither in the coot nor in the sand
b (fies Aves
i]
x
| Tail of the Coot. ]
[Tail of the Sandpiper. }
piper does the tail contribute much to the powers of
flight. In the sandpipers and their allies, which fly
with rapidity and ease, notwithstanding the shortness
of the tail the tertzals of the wings are remarkably
elongated, and may probably assist as rudders, while
they add, when extended, to the general surface of the
body, and thus in two ways atone for the deficiency in
the development of the tail: ‘The coot seldom attempts
to escape by flight, unless when hard pressed, and then
it rather flutters than flies along. When, however,
(as is the case with the grebes, the: divers, and other
birds in which the tail is very small, but the wings
vigorous, ) the coot has attained to a certain elevation,
its flight is strong and rapid, and capable of being
long continued. : 7
The reduction of the tail to almost a nullity is, how-
ever, often accompanied by a reduction of the powers of
the wing (the form of which is rounded, and the quill-
feathers short and lax); and by a full soft plumage,
but sometimes (as in the genus Pitta) by a metallic
plumage, and by a development of the limbs, rendering
the birds terrestrial in their habits; their flight is short,
feeble, and fluttering, but they run with extreme faci-
lity. Among the thrush family we have examples in
point. The genus Pitta is remarkable for a metallic
brilliancy of plumage; the tail is very short, the wings
are short and rounded, the limbs large and strong.
Again, in Megapodius, the plumage is lax, full, and
soft, the tail quite rudimentary, and the limbs greatly
developed.
On the other hand, we sometimes see an elongated
and graduated tail accompanied with terrestrial habits;
indeed, where the tail is elongated, and merely rounded
at the extremity, the wings are usually short, and the
flirht peculiar. That well-known bird, the pied wag-
tail, is an example in point; its tail, No. 7, is com-
No. 7.
\.
i \
[Vail of the Pied Wagtail.]
[Tail of the Magpie. |
posed of slender feathers, and it is remarkable both for
its length and its vibratory movements. The celerity
with which this sprightly little bird trips along must
have been often noticed by our readers, as well as the
jerking interrupted character of its flieht. As an in-
stance of an ample, long, and decidedly graduated tail,
that of the magpie, No. 8, may be taken by way of
illustration. To the flight of this bird we have pre-
THE PENNY
MAGAZINE. 1St
viously alluded; on the ground it runs and hops along
with ease. The tail of the magpie is not quite regularly
graduated, for the two central feathers more than duly
exceed the next im succession.
In the parrakeets (Parle@ornis) we have examples
of irregularly graduated tails, and especially in the
Malacca parrakeet; all the tail-feathers are thin and
pointed, but tolerably firm: the outermost are very
short, but they increase in a recular gradation to the
central pair, which are eloneated into slender streamers.
In their flight these birds are rapid, for their wings are
pointed, but they do not continue long on the wing,
nor can they soar on motionless pinions, like the
vulture or rook. It is very evident, however, that no
definite rules respecting the powers of flight can be
drawn from the shape of the tail; since we often find
a long and graduated tail, not only accompanied with
great rapidity, but great endurance of flight. In many
of the humming-birds it is graduated, and graduated
irregularly; in the filamentous-tongeued parrakeets of
New Holland (Trycho-glossus) it is also graduated, and
the flivht of these birds is rapid as an arrow. In the
passenger-pigeon of America it is long and graduated ;
the flight of this bird, however, is calculated at the
ratio of one mile a minute, and capable of being kept
up at that speed for six or eight hours at a time,
or longer. Some hirds of rapid flight have the tail
square or wedge-shaped, with two lone central feathers
extending to a great length. The tropic-bird, which
is met with only near the Line, between the tropics, and
which skims over the sea, soars aloft, or sweeps down
like an arrow, has a short wedge-shaped tail with two
lone central wiry feathers streaming from it.
A forked tail is always accompanied by good, or even
great, powers of flight, and if the tail be greatly forked,
the flieht will be not only rapid, but distinguished by
the facility with which sudden evolutions and turns are
accomplished. In many birds, as in the chaffinch,
No. 9, and the lark, No. 10, the tail is slightly forked,
No. 9.
[Tail of the Lark. |
and each part is more or less rounded ; in the chaffinch,
however, the two central feathers are longer than the
two next, which is not the case in the lark, a bird of
rapid flight, as it skims over the fields, and capable
also of soaring to a vast elevation. ‘The tail of the
swallow is a good illustration of a truly forked tail, so
is that of the fork-tatled shrike (Edolius); in most
species of this genus, the two outer tail-feathers have
long slender produced shafts, ending in a broad vane.
A plumose tail is seen in the ostrich, where thie quill-
feathers of the wings are also plumose ; 1t must not be
confounded with a plumose condition of the taz-coverts,
as in the peacock, and splendid trogon. A plumose
tail, but of a different character, is exhibited by the
lyre-bird of New Holland (Menura superba). It con-
sists of two external lax-feathers (one on each side) of
such a shape as to resemble the frame of an ancient
lyre; between these rise long filamentous feathers,
with distant and delicate barbules, representing the
strings; the two central are of a different construction,
being stouter than the rest, with a barb on one side.
The powers of flight in the menura are very limited.
(See ‘ Penny Magazine,’ No. 317, page 92.
182
As it respects the modification of the tail to serve as
an organ capable of being applied to other uses, besides
such as are immediately connected with flight, we may
notice, first, its adaptation as an aquatic rudder, and
secondly, its adaptation as a sustaining and climbing
instrument.
Many aquatic birds swim with the body submerged,
or partially so, and in such the tail consists of stiff
feathers, the shafts resembling stout strips of whale-
bone, the vanes appearing as if composed of finer strips,
closely compacted together. In the New Holland
musk duck this character is displayed, but it is better
seen in the larger tails of the darta (Plotus) and of
the cormorant, of which latter bird No. 11 is a sketch
No. Ll.
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(Tail of the Cormorant. |
of the tail. In form this organ is rounded ; each feather
is stiff and elastic, and the whole is firm and close.
The possession of a rudder to birds which pursue the
finny tribes for prey, chasing them ‘with the utmost
rapidity, and following up every turn and double with
the most wonderful celerity, is, it must be evident,
a pre-requisite, without which no extraordinary sub-
aquatic evolutions could be executed, and consequently
no successful fishery carried on. Deprive the cormorant
cf his tail, and his powers of sub-aquatic progression
would be much diminished. It may here be added
that the stiff tail of the cormorant assists to support it,
while sitting upright on the shore, or on the ledge of
the precipice which it has selected for its observatory.
The adaptation of the tail as a sustaining and climb-
ing instrument, by which birds are enabled to ascend
the trunks of trees with facility, and remain adhering
to them while they procure their food, (/arve beneath
the bark or in the crevices of it,) is exemplified in many
birds, and among others in the creeper, (Certhia fa-
miliaris) of which we give the tail (No. 12). The
[ Tail of the Creeper. |
feathers of this organ are not only remarkable for their
stiffness, but the shafts are produced beyond the barbs,
forming sharp elastic deflected points, which in the
perpendicular attitude assumed by the bird in c.imbing
up the stem of a tree, insert themselves into every
crevice, and fix against every projection. Inthe genus
Denrocolaptes, the tail is even more adapted as a
climbing instrument than in the creeper; but most of
all is this peculiarity of structure exemplified in the true
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
1 rounds.
[May ie;
the feet and that of the tail co-operate in qualifying
them for the mode of life to which their instinct neces-
sarily leads them. ‘The tail is graduated, and com-
posed of ten feathers, of which all, but especially those
of the centre, have strong elastic shafts slightly bent
inwards, and gradually narrowing to a point which
projects beyond the web; nor is this all, the webs them-
selves, instead of being flat, are obliquely fixed on the
shafts, so that their edges touch the tree up which the
bird may be climbing. Now these webs, or vanes, are
composed of stiff plumelets, much resembling fibres of
whalebone, with sharp points; so that, independent of
the aid given by the shafts, the webs themselves form
so many lines of support, or rather springs of propul-
sion, aiding the bird in its ascent. It is to be observed
that the creepers and the woodpeckers always move in
an upward direction alone the trunks and branches of
trees, from the bark of which they extract their food.
The flight of the woodpecker consists of a series of
undulations performed by a rapid action of the wings,
and is far from being destitute of quickness.
Here we close our hasty survey of the structure and
peculiarities observable in the wings and tails of the
feathered race; let those who have opportunity follow
up the hints we have given, and draw up for themselves
a series of deductions on a point in natural history, to
which at present but little attention- has been paid—
viz., the connexion between the peculiarity of flight,
and the modification of the organs by which it is per-
formed. If the birds of foreign lands are beyond our
notice in a state of nature, those of our own country
invite the attention of all who wish to observe and
think for themselves.
BALTIC OR GERMAN PROVINCES OF RUSSIA.
(Concluded from No. 327.}
Rye, wheat, oats, barley, buckwheat, peas, potatoes,
flax, and hemp, form the chief products of the soil,
which, in spite of an utter want of attention to very
extensive causes of waste, that are guarded against by
better care in England, yields well and profitably.
The gathering of the corn into sheaves is performed
most clumsily and negligently. It is then stacked
on the field in small heaps resembling haycocks,
which are rudely thatched. Drag-rakes and gleaning
are unknown; pigs are then turned into the stubble,
and also poultry, particularly geese and turkeys, to
gain, with an infinite number of small birds, their daily
meal. They generally fatten well,’ making, as often
as not, the little corn-ricks yield them a quicker supply
than what they gain from the reaper’s carelessness.
Children are usually employed to prevent such mischief ;
but, as it is not to be expected that these poor Jittle
creatures should possess that attention which their
parents neither practise nor inculcate, their presence is
but of little use beyond the moment when the master
or his bailiff come near while prosecuting their daily
These little ricks are gradually removed as
the corn is thrashed, by which time each has become
inhabited by colonies of rats and mice, who take their
turn to be fatted. ‘The clumsy little carts, with their
ladder-like sides, and not very round wooden wheels, in
which the corn is conveyed to the barns, scatter a con-
tinued track of grain in their path. In the barns, thieving
is so generally practised by all who share in the labour
of preparing the corn for sale, that it is looked upon as
a necessary evil, and seldom attempted to be radically
checked. ‘The peasant considers it no sin to take a
small portion of his lord’s abundance; and while no
attempt is made to raise the low state of intellect,
moral and physical, in which the peasant now vege-
tates, no change can be hoped for in such a system of
or typical woodpeckers, birds in which the formation of} evil to all parties. The grain, which is always kiln-
1837,]
dried before thrashing, is now placed in the granaries,
where, as in the little ricks, it is equally exposed to the
inroad of vermin; and yet, in spite of all these causes
of diminution, the return is usually eight and ten fold
in rye and wheat, and larger in barley and oats.
We must not here omit to mention the ordinary
manner in which the land is cultivated, as another
proof of the fertility of the soil, which, even under the
present existing innumerable disadvantages, yields to
the amount we have just stated. The most general
course of acricultnre is triennial: the first year produc-
ing a crop of rye or wheat; the second year barley or
oats; and the third the field lies fallow. Potatoes, flax,
&c., are generally raised upon some extra piece of
waste land, newly broken up, or, if cultivated to a
greater extent, take the place of the summer corn in
the second course.
The fallow-field is ploughed but once after the crop
is taken off, at which time, generally early in the sum-
mer, the manure is carried on, spread about, and left to
dry in the sun, losing all its invigorating properties,
till the sowing season in the autumn returns. The
plouchs, if such they can be called, consist of one, and
in some instances of two thick sticks, sharpened and
pointed with iron, and fixed in a frame, which is
dragged by a horse, and guided by a man or woman.
They are, in the country, most appropriately called
pig’s noses, for certainly the unringed snouts of a few
pies would turn over the soil as effectually as these
misnamed ploughs. ‘The land indeed looks as if merely
scratched over by a parcel of children at play, and the
wonder must be, how nourishment enough can exist to
support the roots of the grain. The harrows are in
keeping with the ploughs; made of a few cross sticks
with wooden teeth fastened to them.
Under-draining is probably unknown there; even
ditches to carry off the melting of the snows from the
surface are few and far between. Great injury often
results to the crops from these circumstances ; but this
is seldum attributed to the right cause, and it is not
likely to be obviated till science forces its way among
the higher classes, and more enlightened views towards
the people in general are entertained by them.
Within the last few years, some attention has been
paid by landholders to the breeding of merino sheep,
aud the improveinent of their own flocks. Clover has
also been cultivated for the support of them, which, with
judicious care, would become as certain a crop as in our
more favoured climate: at present the severe frosts
acting upon undrained land, saturated with moisture,
often destroy it, still the attempt promises so mucli of
success aS to be persevered in by many. Several
estates already possess some thousands of sheep. ‘The
wool is considered equal to the real Saxon merino, and
has occasionally been exported to Russia and England ;
but since the erection lately of two large cloth manu-
factories, one On the island Dagau, near Revel, by
Baron Uneern Sternberg, and the other at Zintenhof,
a crown estate near Pernau, by M. Wormann, a wealthy
merchant in Riga, the supply for home consumption
has not been found sufficient.
The population of these provinces, not being in pro-
portion to their agricultural products, large quantities
of corn and flax are annually shipped to England,
Spain, and Portugal. A cousiderable portion is also
used in the distillation of spirits, which are drank
largely by almost every class of society. The surplus
production of this pernicious beverage finds a ready
sale in the interior of Russia.
Rye and malted barley are the erain principally used
for this purpose, but mashed wheat has been found,
though bearing’ a higher price, to answer well, as it
yields a much greater proportion of spirit. Potatoes
are also used for distillation, and where the soil is fa-
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
183.
vourable are grown largely. ‘The oxen are fatted with
the hot mash or grains from the distillery, a portion of
which ts also daily given to the cows and young stock.
This forms the only change in their food from hay,
chaff, and chopped straw ; the variety of turnips, mangel
wurzel, carrots, cabbages, &c., with which our cattle
are so daintily fed, being utterly unknown there. In
consequence of this want of other sources of food be-
yond the very ordinary hay of the marsh and meadow
lands, which, having never been in any way cultivated,
drained, or cleaned, yield a very scanty and uncertain
crop, a cold or wet spring is a sure harbinger of hunger
to all the herds of cattle in the country. This suffering
falls particularly on the cows and young stock, for the
working and fatting oxen being of more value, are kept
well fed at the expense of the others. Great mortality
frequently takes place, which is attributed to any but
the real cause; the peasant imputing it to the evil eye
of some secret enemy, or other influences of the black
art; and the lord, again, to the wilful neglect of his
servants. Should the poor animals not have spent
their last breath by the return of spring, they are
helped on to their legs, and, tottering out, soon regain
from the unassisted hand of nature that strength of
which they had been deprived, in consequence of their
owners neglecting the resources and facilities which
are available. ‘he supply of milk and butter from
such cows is of course very deficient, 30lbs. to 35 Ibs.
of butter during the twelvemonth being considered
there an ample produce for a thriving cow. In Eng-
land the instances are not rare, where a cow has
yielded from 15lbs. to 20lbs. of butter weekly, for seve-
ral weeks in succession; and we may fairly take the
average at from 8lbs. to 10lbs. weekly as the general
standard during the time in which they give milk.
The attention to the distillery and to the cattle, the
thrashing the corn, the reparation of stone-fences, doors,
gates, &c., and the felling and fetching of their sole
fuel, wood,—naturally form the sum of the winter agri-
cultural employments in a country where the soil is at
that season frozen to the depth of several feet. In con-
sequence of the diminution of out-door work, the women
are dismissed from their hard field-labour, and from
Michaelmas till Lady Day are employed in spinning
and weaving a certain quantity of flax and wool for the
thrifty dame of the mansion, which quantity, like their
working days in summer, is regulated according to the
size of the farm to which they belong. ‘This period is
an important one to all the provincial country ladies,
be they baronesses or countesses ; for as their servants,
with few exceptions, are all peasants, who receive no
other wages than their clothing, all of which is manu-
factured at home, much care and forethought are
necessary to provide a sufficient quantity both for men
and women, for winter and for summer wear.. Besides
this, her own linen-press must be supplied; and the
most expert maidens on the estate are selected, and the
best flax and wool sorted, for the production of linens
and flannels fit for her own wear, and all the necessary
additions to her household stores. From these the
best pieces are yearly selected, if she be the mother of
a daughter, to form the dowry of the maiden when she
shall relinquish the privileges of her freedom, and in
her turn enter upon the duties of providing for the
food and clothing of those around her. These dowries
are generally commenced within the first year after tlie
birth of their object; and great is the pride,—heartfelt
the satisfaction of the mother who sees the strictness
with which she has watched her spinners and weavers
crowned with success,—and the great oaken iron-
bauded chests, ponderous with their contents, ranged
in order, to await the arrival of the successful candi-
date for her daughter’s hand. This custom is common
to the peasantry as well as to their lords, with the dif-
~~
~~
"
184.
ference only that the stores collected consist more of
outward apparel than in linen for household purposes :
and it would make a poor woman of this country stare
to see the piles of gaudily striped thick woollen petti-
coats; of grey cloth jackets; of dark brown great-coats,
made from the wool of black sheep without any further
dye; of sheep-skin wrappers, with the wool inwards,
and the white leather surface ornamented with many
fantastic lines of crimson or black morocco leather; of
gay glass-bead necklaces, to which are attached often
as many as a dozen pieces of silver money of the size of
crown pieces (the Russian silver ruble); of knitted
worsted stockings and gloves, and of gay silk caps,
ornamented with long ribands, lace, and tinsel,—which
at a peasant’s wedding are spread forth to excite the
admiration or envy of those not able to fit out their
daughters with equal munificence.
Portsmouth.—In No. 323 of the ‘ Penny Magazine,’ it is
stated (page 141) that the municipal borough of Ports-
mouth is divided into seven wards. ‘This is the number in
the schedule annexed to the Municipal Corporations Reform
Act. But the barrister who, under the provisions of the
act, divided the borough into wards, availed himself of a
discretionary power given by the act, of increasing or dimi-
nishing the number of wards in certain cases by one, and
divided the municipal borough of Portsmouth not into
seven but into szzv wards.
The Lilac.—The common lilac was, till lately, thought to
be exclusively a native of Persia, but, within the last few
years, it has been found by Dr. Baumgarten in Tran-
sylvania. The blue and the white varieties were cultivated
by Gerard and Parkinson, in 1597, under the name of the
Blue Pipe and White Pipe; and, apparentiy, confounded
with Philadélphus, which was also called Pipe Tree. The
first time the lilac was made known to European botanists
was by a plant brought from Constantinople to Vienna by
the ambassador Busbequius, towards the end of the six-
teenth century. .From the plant being very showy, of the
easiest culture, ard extremely hardy, it soon spread rapidly
throughout the gardens of Europe. In some parts of Britain
and various parts of Germany, it is mixed with other shrubs,
or planted alone, to form garden-hedyes; and, as a proof of
its hardiness, we may mention that there are hedges of it by
the road-sides in the neighbourhood of Ulm and Augsburg,
in the elevated, and consequently cold, region of Bavaria.
—Arboretum Britannicum.
The Clydesdale Orchards.—Orchards are of considerable
antiquity on the Clyde. Merlin, the poet, about the middle
of the fifth century, celebrates Clydesdale for its fruit. The
soil and climate being inland, and consequently free fiom
the blasting influence of mildews and fogs, may account for
its being so favourable for the cultivation of orchards. At
first, they were planted in the shape of gardens, attached to
houses for the accommodation of the resident families. For
two centuries or more, they have been cultivated as a source
of profit; they chiefly prevail, and are most extensive and pro-
ductive, on the north bank of the Clyde, having a southern
exposure, though on the south bank there are also a consider-
able number, and some of them very fruitful. Those of Cam-
busnethan, the property of R. Lockhart, Esq., of Castlehill,
and of J. G. C. Hamilton, Esq., of Dalziel, are the most ex-
tensive, and among the most productive. The fruit in the
former has some years brought 800/., and in the latter 6004.
The orchards are in general planted on sloping banks, other-
wise only fit for the growth of forest trees. In consequence,
however, of their having been found profitable, especially
during the late wars, when foreign fruit was in a great
measure excluded, and even that from England and Ireland
was with difficulty brought to our markets, a considerable
quantity of ground was planted with fruit-trees, which was
well adapted for any species of husbandry. In some cases,
too, when a person had an orchard, but not of sufficient
extent to make it an object of attention to a purchaser, he
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
[May 13, 1837.
has been induced to enlarge it, by planting land, which, in
other circumstances, would not have been so occupied. But
it may be remarked, there is no profit in planting land with
fruit-trees which would yield a rent of 2U., 3/., or 4/. per acre.
The soil of many of the orchards is naturally a stiff clay,
and the most thriving trees and the finest fruit is in general
to be found on the poorest land, provided due attention has
been paid to the cultivation of the orchard. The average is
now four bolls per acre, at 2/.10s. per boll. The value of
the orchards has of late years greatly decreased.—Staitstical
Account of Scotland.
Great Wild Bull Hunt in Poland.—Since the brilhant
chases of the urus (a sort of bison, of Poland,) of King
Augustus ITL.’s time, in the forest of Bialowicz, of which
the fame has been perpetuated by an obelisk with many
sounding inscriptions, erected in 1753, in the centre of that
ancient forest, these countries have no longer been fre-
quented by hunters, and the sport itself has been proscribed,
even under pain of death. Very recently, however, a grand
hunt took place, and by appointment of the Russian govern-
ment, at Bialowicz. The governor-general of the province,
Prince Dolgorukow, had fixed the time for the 12th of Octo-
ber (1836), and upon that day arrived from Wilna at the ren-
dezvous, Where a great number of hunters and spectators
had already assembled. The Chasseurs and -‘Traqueurs
mustered nearly 2,000. Some days before they had tracked,
and concentrated within the warren, a quarter of the forest
forming an angle between two rivers, a troop of about twenty
bisons; and to prevent these wild animals from escaping, a
circle of ‘fires was kept constantly burning for several days
and nights. At eleven in the morning Prince Dolgorukow
arrived at the place of meeting in the very heart of the
forest, and, after a plentiful breakfast, took his place upon a
spacious stage, which had been raised of the white fir for
his accommodation and that of his visiters. A signal being
given, the trackers proceeded to rouse the brakes. Some
time, however, elapsed before the game made its appear-
ance, and it, began to be feared that the whole would end in
disappointment ; when all at once three bisons rushed from
the cover, and made, at a full gallop and in a‘ direct line,
towards the platform. : They had reached with great im-
petuosity within 200 yards, when one of.the chasseurs
indiscreetly fired at the leader, but the ball missed, and had
only the effect of spoiling sport, for the animals, affrighted,
turned about and ‘fled’ to cover.’ The sport again flagged
for a time, and the prince was beginning to despair, when
suddenly emerging from a dense part of the forest, within
fifty yards of the stage, another troop of enormous ures,
having at their head a male of immense size, and whose
long beard floated in the wind, were perceived. The animals
directed their course towards the spectators; but the leader
was soon struck by a bullet from a gun fired by the prince
himself, and this, succeeded by three other shots from
princes ol the stage, made the bull reel some 200 paces,
where he fell and was killed. The general shout, by which
this feat was accompanied, proved that the greatest of the
wanderers in the ancient forest of Bialowicz had then been
prostrated. The chase soon after terminated; but a few
particulars respecting these animals, which are but little
Known, may not be uninteresting. It appears that they
feed almost exclusively upon a wild kerb called tomka ; for,
in the severe winters, when this fails them, they perish in
great numbers. This is the reason why they are only to be
met with in this forest, which, because of the abundance of
the grass in question, is called “green” by the country
people. As a sort of memorial of this famous hunting-
match, every body present carried away a fist full of this
grass, which has a strong smell, and something of an almond
taste, particularly when dried. In cutting up the ure, the
hunters remarked about the head a strong scent of musk,
the brain being, it is known, the chief depository of that
substance. The flesh may be eaten, though it has a wild
flavour: the party partook of it. The skin is very strong,
but wants suppleness.—Journal de Frankfort.
*,* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at
29, Lincoln’s Inn Fields,
LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT & CO., 22, LUDGATE STREET.
Printed by Witttam CiowEs and Sons, Stamford Street.
THE PENNY MAGAZIN
OF THE
Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge,
329.)
PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY.
[May 20, 1837,
A LOOKING-GLASS FOR LONDON.—No. XIV.
CoMMERCE.—THE RovaL EXCHANGE AND 1TS NEIGHBOURHOOD.
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[The Royal Exchange. j
“THis country,” bed the late Mr. Rothschild, in 1832,
“is, in general, the Bank for the whole sa mean,
that all transactions in India,—in China,—in Germany,
—in Russia,—and in the whole world,—are all guided
here and settled throuch this country.”
The centre of operations—the heart, as it were,—of
this ‘** Bank for the whole World,” is the Money
Market of London.—And as with the idea of a market
we generally associate that of a market-place, so, in
speaking of the London Money Market, we naturally
think of that particular locality where the greater part
of its transactions are carried on—the Bank, the Royal
Exchange, the Stock Exchange (which lie within a few
paces of each other), and the surrounding neighbour-
hood. ‘This will include the banking-houses of Lom-
bard Street, Lothbury, and the Poultry (the continua-
tion of Cheapside from Bucklersbury and the old Jewry
to Cornhill, is termed the *‘ Poultry”) ;—the counting-
houses of the bullion, bill and discount brokers, of the
stock and share brokers, and the places of business of
those establishments where wealthy individuals, under
the general title of “merchants,” without any other
specific designation, carry on many of those operations
which come more immediately within the sphere of the
Money Market.
The Royal Exchange lies between Cornhill and
Threadneedle Street, bis principal front being towards
Cornhill. ‘Threadneedle Street, which is narrow, sepa-
rates it from the eastern or upper end of the Bank.
Bartholomew Lane (one of the four streets which
isolate the Bank) extends from the Threadneedle Street
Vou, VI.
front of the Royal Exchange to the street which at one
end is termed Lothbury, and at the other Throgemorton
Street. The one side of Bartholomew Lane is formed
by the eastern front of the Bank, the other by a con-
nected range of buildings, a part of which is a church,
and part is occupied chiefly by stockbrokers.‘ In about
the centre of this range is Capel Court, where is the
principal entrance to the Stock Exchange: there are
other entrances by courtways or passages : from Throg-
morton Street. At the bottom of Bartholomew Lane,
and the corner of Throemorton Street, is a handsome
building termed the Auction Mart, erected about twenty-
six years ago, as a kind of central establishment for the
sale of estates, annuities, shares, &c., by public auction.
Very great improvements have recently been effected
in this neighbourhood, and more are in progress. ‘I'wo
fine streets, in particular, have been opened, and their
frontages are occupied by handsome ranges of build-
ings. Still, the stranger will find much to convince
him that trade and commerce here have been more
chary of space than to spend it on spacious streets.
Let him try to thread some of those narrow passages,
which, at first sieht, might appear to him to lead only
to some private “house or private establishment :—he
will be surprised to find them crowded thoroughfares,
communicating with one narrow street or another.
Here, in these seemingly out-of-the- -way places, are
numerous shops, whose occupants are in possession of
a snug and money-making trade,—taverns and coffee-
houses with steady frequenters, ,—places of business
where much may be transacted in the — of a
2
186
business-day, Narrow passages, communicating with
streets, are numerous In all the older parts of London ;
but those which lead from Threadneedle Street, ‘Throg-
morton Street, Cornhill, &c. &c., are more especially
calculated to excite surprise in a stranger, from the
extreme narrowness of some of them, and their seeming
obscurity, compared with the crowds passing throngh,
and the business which is transacted in them.
There are 334 stockbroking establishments (many ot
them firms with two or more partners) in London,
whose places of business are in Threadneedle Sheet
Bartholomew Lane, at the Royal Exchange, in Loth-
bury and Throgmorton Street, Cornhiil, and Lombard
Street. ‘To these we must add 34 bullion, bill, and dis-
count brokers, about 240 ship and insurance brokers,
and about 1000 % merchants,” some of whom deal in
bullion and bills to a considerable extent, whose places
of business are all within five and ten minutes’ walk of
the Bank and Royal Exchange. And this is, without
reckoning the bankers, the ‘weneral and commercial
arents, the colonial, cotton, silk, and wool brokers, the
corn and coal merchants, the solicitors and notaries, the
tradesmen and shopkeepers, all within the same neigh-
bourhood, as well as the offices of great insurance com-
panies, railway companies, steam- -packet companies, &c.
The Royal Exchange was erected originally by Sir
Thomas Gresham, the corporation of the city having
given the ground on which to build it. ‘The idea of
the building, and its mame, were imported from the
coutinent 5 it was termed the Burse, or Bourse. But
two years after its erection, Queen Elizabeth having
visited it in great state, caused it to be proclaimed by
sound of trumpet, that its name should be “ The Royal
Exchange.”
this building it was destroyed in the great fire. ‘The
present building was erected immediately afterwards,
at an expense of nearly 60,000/.; a few years ago it
underwent a very sabstantial repair.
The ground-floors of the Royal exchange are occu-
pied by stockbrokers, insurance brokers, stationers,
newsyenders, music-sellers, opticians, tobacconists, &e.,
their shops fronting the streets. On entering the
gateway, either from Cornhill or Threadneedle Street,
we arrive in a handsome quadrangle, in the centre of
which is a statue of Charles II. ‘There are statues of
the kings of EEngland in niches round the court, above
the paved colonnade or piazza. This piazza affords a
shelter and promenade to the merchants who meet here
to transact business. From the piazza there are stair-
cases which lead to the upper part of the Royal Ex-
change, over the shops. Here a gallery extends round
the quadrangle, leading’ to offices occupied by mer-
chants, underwriters, the Royal Exchange Assurance
Office, &c., and by the Society of Underwriters at
Lloyd’s Subscription Coffee House. ‘There are two
suites of rooms in this establishment; one open to the
public, the other reserved for the subscribers. In order
to become a subscriber the candidate must be proposed
by six members, and afterwards accepted by the ma-
naging committee.
at “Lloyd’s,” says the Baron Dupin, ‘“ has rendered
sional services both to the commerce of the British
empire and to that of other states. The society has
agents in most of the principal ports of all parts of the
world; it makes public the events, both commercial
and maritime, which it learns through their means:
these accounts are received by the public with a con-
fidence which nothing for more than a centnry has
tended to destroy.” CAL Lloyd’s,” says Von Raumer,
‘‘close to the dial which tells the hour, is one still more
interesting here, which tells the direction of the wind,
and is connected with the weathercock on the roof.
Intelligence of the arrivals and departures of ships, of
the existence and fate of vessels in all parts of the
world; reports from consuls and commissioners resi-
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
Exactly a century after the erection of”
‘The establishment of insurances.
[May 20,
dent in every foreign town; newspapers and & Lazelbes
from every country are here to be found, arranged in
such perfect and convenient order, that the entire "actual
state of the commercial world may be seen in a few
minutes, and any of the countless threads that converge
to this centre may be followed out with more or less
minnteness. The whole earth, or the whole commercial
machinery of the earth, appeared to me to be placed in
the hands of the directors of Lloyd’s Coffee House.”
Eqnal in jmportance, to the insurances is the busi-
ness transacted on the Royal Exchange in bills of
exchange and in the importation and exportation of
bullion—z. ¢., gold aud silver, either in coin or in any
other form. ‘lhe late Mr. Rothschild was in the ordi-
nary habit, when times were quiet, of buying, week
by week, from 80,000/. to 100,000/. worth of bills
drawn for goods shipped from this country. He gave
his testimony that, in general, business on the Royal
Exchange was done very fairly. Dealers in bills pur-
chase them either to get a commission, or in return
for goods imported. Thus bills drawn by our trading
ae manufacturing towns, as Liverpool, Manchester,
&c., and which come to every banker and merchant in
London, are bought up, and sent abroad. Against
these, the dealers” in bills buy on the continent. bills
drawn on this country for commodities imported. If
there be not a sufficient quantity of foreign bills to
meet British bills—that is, if we have sent out more
goods than have been imported, and thus put the
foreion merchants in our debt, then the dealers, not
being able to get bills, must bring i in gold, from Paris,
from. Hamburgh, or from wherever it is requisite.
But if the reverse is the case, if British merchants are
in debt to foreign merchants, then the deficiency of
bills must be made up by drawing gold from the Bank
to send abroad. This is the state of things which is
watched by the bullion and bill brokers, that they may
make a profit either by buying bills, or importing and
exporting bullion, When commodities are cheap in this
country, it generally turns the Exchanges in our favour,
as we then get a greater number of customers than
usual, who buy from Britain what at the time they
cannot aet so cheap elsewhere*.
The National Debt of Great Britain amounts at pre-
sent to between 700,000,000/. and 800,000,060/., on
which an annual interest of 28,000,0001. is paid to the
creditors. ‘There are probably 25 000 5000 or 3,000,000
people directly concerned in the receipt of this annual
interest—for though the debt stands in the names of
only about 280,000 individuals, many of these are
merely trustees, directors, or managers, actine for
societies, associations, &c., numbers of whom have
what is called ‘‘ money in the funds ’’—. e., a claim on
gvovernment for money lent. The creditors cannot
demand their money back, for the original condition by
which the money was borrowed, end the stock created,
does not provide for paying off the principal; but the
annual interest must be paid. <A certain proportion of
the debt exists in the form of Termznable annuities—
that is, annuities terminating at a given time. Another
portion is called the floating or unfunded debt, as it
exists in the shape of Exchequer Bills—a kind of paper
money issued by government. But by far the largest
portion of the debt is funded or permanent. In order
to accommodate the creditors, government enables them
to sell their claims to whoever will buy them—for more
than the full amount if they can get it, or for less if
they cannot help it. For this purpose an establish-
ment is kept up at the Bank of England called the
Transfer Office. When a creditor sells his claim to: any
other person, the transaction is called a “ transfer of
stock,’ because the right to receive the annual interest
is transferred from one person to another. ‘Transfers
of stock are almost all effected through the agency of
* Sce Bint os Excuanag, in the ‘ Penny Coc aerial vol. 1V4
1837.)
stockbrokers, who charge one-eighth per cent., or 2s. 6d.
for every 1OOJ/; transferred.
All the more respectable of the stockbrokers are
members of the Stock Exchange in Capel Court, Bar-
tholomew Lane, into which they must be elected by
ballot. No person is allowed to enter or transact busi-
ness in this building but members. When a bargain
has been concluded, the parties step over to the Transfer
Office at the Bank, where certain simple forms are gone
through, the Transfer clerks verifying and ratifying the
transaction. ‘There are certain days in the week allotted
to each description of stock, on which only transfers can
be made.
The reader may ask, How comes it that 1000J. stock
does not, when sold, invariably produce 1000/.—in
other words, what is the reason of the fluctuations of
the funds? In some. respects the causes are similar to
those which affect other markets. The rate of interest
varies on the different stocks, the amount paid originally
for each 100/. of debt having also varied. ‘There may be
more buyers than sellers, or more sellers than buyers.
Anything threatening the stability of the country
affects the value of the security, and thus makes the
prices of stock fall—a return of peace or prosperity makes
them rise. When profits are low, and commerce agitated,
and capitalists unwilling to risk their money in com-
mercial speculations, of in the discounting of bills, the
funds presenta good mode of investing money till better
times arrive; the interest is tolerably good, it is sure,
and the invester can easily sell out again when he wishes
it. Soa number of competitors may make prices rise.
*¢ But it would be scarcely possible to arrange, under
any number of general heads, all the ‘ skyey influences ’
that are capable of elevating or depressing this most
sensitive barometer, the nature of which is to be agi-
tated by every breeze of popular exhilaration or nervous
despondency, by every fit of suspicion or confidence, by
every hope and fear, almost by every passion, imagi-
nation, and caprice of the human breast.”
The National Debt is divided into various classes,
under different names, and bearing different rates of
interest.
fate. ‘The rate of interest of this Fund is indicated by
its name.
In addition to actual sales or transfers of stock, there |
and Kemble, the custom continued of dressing even his-
torical personages according to the fashion of the pass-
‘Ing moment; and although, in point of fact, it was no
more ridiculous to represent Hamlet in a full suit of
is an immense number of transactions carried on under
the name or appearance of selling stock, without any
sales taking place, or even being intended. These
transactions are called ‘‘ bargains for time;’ and are
engaged in not only by the stockbrokers who are mem-
bers of the Stock Exchange, but by persons called
“ Jobbers” in the Funds, who assemble in Capel
Court, in front of the Stock Exchange, or in the room
called the Rotunda, in the Bank. A bargain for time
is a bet. One person offers to sell another so much
stock at a certain price at a certain period, which the
other accepts. The amount of the bet which is won
and lost is the difference between the price agreed upon
and the actual selling price of the particular kind of
stock at the time. If 100/. Three Per Cent. Stock
js agreed to be sold for 104/:, and the market-price
at the agreed time is 1061., the pretended seller would
lose 2¢.; if it were only 1062/., the pretended buyer
would lose 2. ‘The law does not recognise this kind of
eambling ; so that the amount of the bet could not be
recovered im a court of justice. Members of the Stock
Exchange who refuse to fulfil their engagements are
expelled—the Jobbers trust to each other’s honour.
In addition to the articles mentioned as on sale con-
stantly in the Money Market, there ure shares in the
Bank of England and East India Company, called
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
The largest class is that termed the “ Three |
Per Cent. Consols;” the latter word being a con- [
traction of consolidated, the Fund having been formed |
by the union of three funds, which had been kept sepa- |
187
Bank Stock and East India Stock :—shares in loans
raised by capitalists for foreien countries ;—shares ih
canals, railways, mines, &c. ;—-all of which rest on their
respective merits or value. Thus, if a loan has been
raised for a foreign country, the news of a civil war
occurring in it will at once depreciate the value of the
securities on the faith of which the money was lent;—
and so of other speculations. Yet such is the amount
of capital in this country,—such the eagerness of people
to enter into any scheme that holds out the least
prespect of success,—that in times of prosperity with
us it 1s the hardest thing possible, even with all previous
warnings, to keep down wild and impracticable specu-
lations, which too often bring on bankruptcy and ruin.
Spanish Incongruities.—Late in the evening we entered
Ovar, a long, straggling town, in which I naturally con-
cluded that some house of accommodation must exist; but
literally there was none. The Peninsula generally, although
it may be said more of Spaiti than Portugal, abounds in
these strange inconsistencies. J once stopped at a venta in
Andalusia, which not only possessed the necessaries, but
many of the comforts of life. Meat and fowls, with tea,
coffee, and chocolate, formed a sumptuous bill of fare for a
Spaiiish country inn; forks abounded, but when I called
for a knife, I was told that no such-implement was kept in
the house, on a principle of self-preservation. The reason
given was eminently Spanish; but, in fact, the road was
chiefly frequeuted by smugglers, who live well, but always
carry their own knives, and this was the real cause of the
deficiency. The same curious contradictions are occasionally
found in the higher ranks. J remember sleeping at the
house of a decayed noble, who received me with the utmost
hospitality. My sleeping apartment was, however; destitute
of the most common conveniences of life; my bed had no
curtains, there was not a looking-glass, there was not a
chair in the room. Such being the case, I was surprised
‘and somewhat amused at seeing a menial, attired in a faded
livery of green and gold, enter my apartment with much
state, bearing a basin of massive silver, which he was him-
self compelled to hold, because there was no table on which
he could place that ponderous relic of the departed splen-
dour of the house.—Portugal and Galicia.
STAGE COSTUME.
(Abridged from the * Book of Table Talk,’ Vol. I.)
Dunrine the first half of the eighteenth century, that is
to say, from the first appearance of that regular suit of
clothes worn by our great-grandfathers under the name
of coat, waistcoat, and breeches, to the days of Garrick
black velvet of the cut of Queen Anne’s time, than it
was in the days of Charles to dress Falstaff in the habit
of that reign, the stiff-skirted coat, the long wig, court
sword, and cocked hat, have a more ludicrous effect on
the modern spectator than the ancient. cavalier costume
of 1640. But the attempt that occasionally manifested
itself to combine, in imitation of the French actors, the
habits of widely different eras, produced a mélange, the
absurdity of which is in our present day absolutely con-
vulsive! The celebrated Booth is said by his biogra-
pher to have paid particular attention to his dress; so
much so, that when playing the Ghost in ‘ Hamlet,’ he
covered the soles of his shoes with felt, in order to
prevent the sound of his footsteps being heard, and so
increase the supernatural effect of his appearance. Yet
who does not remember Pope’s lines descriptive of his
appearance in Cato? which character he originally re
presented on the production of the tragedy in 1712:—
‘ Booth enters: hark the universal peal!
But has he spoken ?—not a sylable, |
What shook the stage and made the people stare ?
Cato’s dong wig, flower’d gown, and lacker’d chair.’
2B 2
188
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
[May 20,
Imagine Cato now, appearing in a flowered robe | curtained sattin. The collar is black velvet, set with
de chambre, and a finely-powdered full-bottomed wig.
There would be a “ universal peal” indeed—of laughter:
yet the fashion of wearing full-bottomed wigs with the
Roman dress (or at least what was intended for such),
and other heroic costumes, lasted til] within the recollec-
tion of many now living. A valued friend of ours saw
Haward play Tamberlain in a full-bottomed wig, as
late as 1765. Aickin, he informs us, was the first who
enacted that part without it; and, what was perhaps
more ridiculous still, Garrick, who has been so bepraised
for his reformation of stage costume, played King Lear
in a habit intended to look ancient, while Reddish in
Edgar, and Palmer in the Bastard, were in full-dress
suits of their own day; and the Regan, Goneril, and
Cordelia of the tragedy in hoops! Richard the Third,
also, was played by Garrick in a fancy dress, which
Hogarth has handed down to us; but Richmond, and
the rest, wore the English uniforms of the eighteenth
century: and as to Macbeth, Garrick played it to the
last in a court-suit of sky-blue and scarlet! Behold
him, engraved from the picture in Mr. Mathews’ col-
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(Garrick as Macbeth.]
lection, wherein the great little Roscius looks much
more like Diggory, in ‘ All the World ’s a Stage,’ than
the Thane of Glamis. It is now with the whole col-
lection at the Garrick Club. In Jeffrey’s ‘ Collection
of Dresses,’ a work in two volumes quarto, published in
1757, the editor says in his preface, *‘ As to the stage-
dresses, it is only necessary to remark that they are at
once elegant and characteristic; and amongst many
other regulations of more importance, for which the
public is obliged to the genius and judgment of the
present manager of our principal theatre, (Mr. Garrick,
who entered on the management of Drury Lane in
1747,) is that of the dresses, which are no longer the
heterogeneous and absurd mixtures of foreign and
-ncient modes which formerly debased our tragedies,
by representing a Roman general in a full-bottomed
peruke, and the sovereign of an Eastern empire in
trunk-hose.”’ Now, to say nothing of the fact that
the very absurdities specified were then, and con-
tinued to be for some years afterwards, in existence,
let us look at the specimens he gives us of the ele-
geant and characteristic costumes introduced by the
genius and judgement of Garrick: Perdita, in ‘ The
Winters Tale,’ in a long stomacher, and a hoop fes-
tooned with flowers; and Comus, in a stiff-skirted
coat, over which is worn what he calls “a robe of pink
sattin, puft with silver gauze, fastened over the shoulder
with a black velvet sash, adorned with jewels. ‘The
jecket,” as he calls the coat aforesaid, “is of white
jewels, and the boots are blue sattin!” But the figure
should be seen to be appreciated. Hereitis! Fancy
an actor now walking on the stage in such dress for
Comus! |
Comus, 1752. |
Behold also the dress of Zara, in the ‘ Mourning
Bride,’ from the same collection !
{Mourning Bride, 1752. ]
A pamphlet, entitled ‘The Dramatic Execution of
Agis,”’ published on the production of Mr. -Home’s
tragedy of that name in 1758, contains a severe attack
on Garrick for “ disguising himself (a@ Grecian chief )
in the dress of a modern: Venetian gondolier ;” and
ridicules his having introduced “a popish procession
made up of white friars, with some other moveables,
like a bishop, des enfans de cheur, nuns, &c.,” into a
play, the scene of which lies in ancient Sparta! So
much for the judgment and taste of Garrick in dramatic
costume.
Mr. John Kemble, the first real reformer of stage
costume, was introduced to the London public in the
character of Hamlet. But he then played the part,
says his biographer, “in a modern court-dress of rich
black velvet, with a star on the breast, the garter and
pendent riband of an order, mourning sword and
buckles, with deep ruffles; the hair in powder, which,
in the scenes of feigned distraction, flowed dishevelled
in front, and over the shoulders*.” His classical taste,
however, soon led him, as he increased in popularity
and power, to do away with the most glaring absnrdi-
ties; and on the opening of the new Theatre Royal
Drury Lane, on the 21st of April, 1794, Macbeth was
revived ‘‘with great magnificence of decoration, and
with some novelties, both in the conduct and machinery
of the fable.” 1
* ¢ Fife of Kemble.’
1837.]
The French Revolution, which occurred at this
period, was also mainly productive of a revolution in
dramatic costume on both sides of the channel. ‘ The
rage for liberty,” says a modern writer, * introduced an
admiration of the ancient republics; the ladies dressed
their heads in imitation of antique busts, and endea-
voured to copy the light and scanty draperies of ancient
statues; and while the ladies were thus attired d la
Grecque, the gentlemen kept them in countenance by
cropping their hair a la Romaine.” ‘The toga and the
paludamentum found their way from the French stage
to ours; and Julius Cesar, Coriolanus, and Cato were
represented with some regard to Roman habits and
manners, although the authorities consulted by Mr.
Kemble were those of the time of the Emperors, in-
stead of the Republic. The English historical and
romantic plays were also dressed with at least more
consistency., Mr. Kemble invented a conventional
costume, formed of the old English dresses of the
reigns of Elizabeth, James the First, and the two
Charles’s; and although King John, Richard the
Third, &c., were anything but correctly attired, their
habits had an antique as well as picturesque appear-
ance, and the whole dramatis persone were similarly
arrayed, instead of all illusion being destroyed by the
introduction of modern uniforms or plain clothes *.
The rage for melodrama and spectacle, which gradually
obtained from this period, was productive at any rate of
a still greater spirit of inquiry into ancient manners and
habits. Print-shops and private portfolios were ran-
sacked for the getting up of every new Easter piece ;
and the magic wand of a Farley transported us at his
will into the regions of fairy land, or the baronial
hall of the feudal ages. But alas! while the crnsader
donned his glittering hauberk of mail, to astonish the
ealleries on an Easter Monday, the bastard Falcon-
bridge, and the barons of King John, were dressed all
the year round in the robes and armour of at best the
seventeenth century. On Mr. Kean’s appearance, and
consequent success, the most popular plays underwent
considerable alterations and improvements in point of
scenery and dresses at Drury Lane. Several gentle-
men of acknowledged taste and information supplied
the new Roscius with designs for his own wardrobe,
and the proprietors of the theatre were not behindhand
in their endeavours to assist the illusion of the scene,
The stage-dress of Richard, which had been but little
altered from the days of Garrick and Macklin, under-
went various changes, particularly in the latter scenes ;
but his cloak still bore the star of the garter, as altered
by Charles the First. The trunks were of the time of
James the First, and the plumed hat, in the throne-
scene, of the reign of Charles the Second. Shylock
assumed a red hat, lined with black, on the dictum of
Mr. Douce, the illustrator of Shakspeare, who quoted
St. Didier’s ‘ Histoire de Venise’ as his authority.
Othello’s dress was wholly changed; but the correct
costume was sacrificed to what the actor considered
effect. The habits of King Lear and Richard the
Second were certainly improved; and in a new but
unsuccessful play, called ‘ Ina,’ the Anglo-Saxon cos-
tume was fairly enough represented.
In 1823 Mr. Charles Kemble set about the reforma-
tion of the costume of Shakspeare’s plays in good
earnest. King John, the First Part of Henry the
Fourth, As You Like It, Othello, Cymbeline, and
Julius Ceesar, were successively, and, as the public
wenerally acknowledged, successfully revived. The
actors, dreadfully alarmed in the outset lest they should
be made to look ridiculous, were avreeably surprised by
the impression produced upon the audience, and have
* The late Mr. Mathews made his first appearance in public
at Richmond, as Richmond in ‘ Richard the Third,’ wearing a
light horseman’s helmet and Jacket,
THE PENNY MAGAZINE,
189
-now become as anxious to procure authorities to dress
from, as they were previously annoyed at the idea of the
innovation, and distrustful of the effect. |
BRITISH FISHERIES.—No. XII.
THE SALMON.
(Concluded from No. 327.)
SALMON is brought to market both in a fresh and pre-
pared state; but the relative proportions of each have
undergone great changes since the middle of last cen-
tury, the causes of which it may not be uninteresting to
trace. A commission agent for the sale of salmon at
| Billineseate, who was examined before a Parliamentary
Committee in 1800, and who had been in the trade
ever since 1750, said,—‘* There have been several
changes in the mode of doing busiuess in my time.
We brought salmon on horseback about thirty years
ago; since that, in light carts and other carriages; and
now, by water, packed in ice.” Previous to the last
change the supply was inconsiderable, and a consider-
able proportion of it was derived from the rivers in
England. The fish were then packed in straw. Pen-
nant, in his ° British Zoology,’ written seventy years
ago, gives the following account of the salmon trade at
Berwick :—‘* Most of the salmon taken before April,
or to the setting in of the warm weather, is sent fresh
to Loudon in baskets, unless now and then the vessel
is disappointed by contrary winds of sailing immedi-
ately. In that case the fish is brought ashore again to
the cooper’s offices, and boiled, pickled, and kitted, and
sent to the London markets by the same ship, and
fresh salmon put in the baskets in lieu of the stale
ones. At the beginning of the season, when a ship is
on the point of sailing, a fresh clean salmon will sell
from ls. to ls. 6d. per lb., and most of the time that
this part of the trade is carried on, the prices are from
5s. to 9s. per stone*, the value rising and falling ac-
cording to the plenty of fish, or the prospect of a fair
or foul wind. The price of fresh fish in the months of
July, when they are most plentiful, has been known to
be as low as 8d. per stone; but last vear (1768) never
less than ls. 4d. and from that to 2s. 6d.”’ The trade
in fresh salmon ceased by the end of April, as the in-
creasing temperature of the season rendered it impos-
sible to bring the tish to market in a proper state. In
case the voyage from Berwick to London proved longer
than usual, the master of a vessel was not unfrequently
compelled to run into the nearest port, and there to
dispose of his cargo, which would have been spoiled
had he attempted to bring it up to London: There
was much risk and uncertainty in the trade, the chances
of loss or gain being to a great extent beyond the
reach of ordinary foresight. These circumstances
readily account for the great quantity of pickled salmon
brought to market as compared with fresh fish. A
change of the wind at the time of a smack being about
to sail with a full cargo, would subtract so much from
the quantity of fresh salmon brought to market, and
the same quantity would be consumed instead in a
pickled or prepared state. During the months of May,
June, July and August, which are now the busiest
periods of the season, the supply of the market with
fresh salmon had almost whoily ceased in consequence
of the mode of packing then practised not being calcu-
lated to preserve the fish for a sufficient length of time
during warm weather.
About the year 1785 the plan of packing salmon in
boxes with ice was first adopted, and the consequence
was a great additional supply of fresh fish ; and from
this cause, and also owing to the extending facilities of
communication and intercourse by improved roads, the
trade underwent some important changes ; but it was
* The stone of salmon was 18 lb. 10} 02.
190
still far from being conducted with the uniformity and
precision under which it is at present carried on, as the
steam-boat was not yet in existence. The salmon were
packed as early as possible after being caught, and
being put into large wooden boxes, they were covered
with ice which had been previously pounded, and which
froze into a solid mass. In this way they could be
preserved for a period of eight or ten days, unless the
weather was unusually warm; and in the height of
summer it was calculated that they would keep six
days from the period of being packed. The effect of
this improvement in the mode of packing was at once
to increase the supply of fresh fish, and to diminish the
necessity for having recourse to picklmg, which was
only done to avoid a heavier loss, as the fish in this
state were of far less value than when fresh, in the pro-
portion of nearly ten to ones The risk of sending a
cargo to market was rendered much less tiow that the
period during which the fish could be preserved in a
fresh state was extended; and the Berwick smacks,
which had formerly brought up a general cargo, were
now exclusively freighted with salmon, and the market
continued supplied during the whole of the summer,
instead of terminating as soon as warm weather com-
menced. The salmon trade had formerly been divided
into two separate departments, one of which depending
for a supply upon land carriage; began to decline soon
after the mode of packing the fish in ice had become
general. The cost of conveying fish on horseback, or
by light carriages and stage-coaches, was too great for
anything but a most limited market; and it being pos-
sible to procure a much larger quantity by water com-
munication, which was so much cheaper than land- |
carriage, it is not surprising that in the course of ten
or twelve years the salesmen who disposed of the sea-
borne salmon were two-thirds more numerous than those
who sold that which was conveyed in a more expensive
manner; or that there is now no distinction in the
trade, all being alike agents for salmon brought by sea.
The salmon which reaches London by land-carriage is
quite insignificant in quantity, and scarcely any arrive
at Billingseate; but they are consigned to the fish-
mongers at the west-end for the richest class of con-
sumers, who care little about paying above the general
market price. Mr. Yarrell says that a Thames salmon
commands the highest price; afterwards, that sent up
either from Woodmill or Christchurch, in Hampshire ;
and next, those received from the Severn, which are
usually brought up by the mail from Gloucester. Since
the commencement of the present century, the value of
the various fisheries has greatly increased; a much
lareer quantity of fresh fish being sent to market,
which is worth ten times as much as that formerly sent
in a salfed state. The price of salmon became con-
siderably higher, even on the spot where it was taken ;
ereater efforts were made to protect the fish in the
breeding season; and, on the other hand, many in-
dividuals were tempted to become poachers.
' The introduction of steam-boats has still further
perfected the arrangements for the supply of the market
with salmon. From the ‘Tay, the Tweed, the Spey, and
the other e¥eat salmon rivers of Scotland, the steam-
boats bring up a cargo to London with nearly as much
certainty as to time as the stage-coach, and in from
forty to sixty hours. Formerly salmon could only be
eaten in perfection within a limited distance of the place
wliere it was cau@ht; but it can now be had above 500
miles off in as good a state as it could formerly have
been received at one-fifth only of this distance. ‘The
supply can also be regulated with great precision;
and though the cost of conveyance is, greater than
by the smacks, yet the trade is placed on a safer and
better footing, and profits are more uniform. ‘The
arrivals at Billingsgate average about 30 boxes per }
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
| spring’) and summer months.
[May 20,
day in February and March; 50 boxes in April ;
from 80 to 100 in May; beginning of June from 200
to 300, and at the latter end of the month 500 boxes
per day; which number gradually increases until it
amounts during the end of July and the early part of
August to 1000 boxes, and frequently more. In 1824
the quantity of salmon sent to London in ice, during
the three preceding seasons, averaged 184,000 fish
yearly. The supply has lately been still ereater, and
we learn from inquiry among those who possess the best
information on the subject, that in 1835 it was 42,000
boxes, each box weighing I cwt. on an average; but
taking even a reduced estimate, the quantity brought
to market in that season was not less than 2000 tons,
or 4,480,000 lbs.; which at LOd. per pound would amount
to 186,666/. The salmon are consigned to commission
agents, who charge 5 per cent. and run the risk of
all bad debts. ‘This per-centage on the sale of salmon
would amount in the year 1835 to above 9,000/. and
as the business is in few hands it is highly lucrative
and valuable. The agents are generally large ex-
porters of herrings and cured fish; and this depart-
ment of their business occupies them during the winter
season, while the salmon trade is in full activity in the
In 18386 the supply was
much smaller than in the previous year, being about
25,000 boxes. No return is kept at the Custom-house
of the quantity of salmon brought to Billingseate, a
cargo being entered under the head “ British goods ;”
but as there are only a few individuals in the trade,
there is not much difficulty in arriving at a tolerably
correct estimate of the actual quantity. The average
prices may be fairly considered 10d. per Ib. for the season,
being considerably above that sum at its commencement,
though falling, on some occasions, as low as 6d. or even
5d. towards the close; the fish being in the best condition
when the supply is the most abundant and the prices
are lowest. In 1831, during the prevalence of the
cholera, the price of salmon was 4d. and 5d. per Ib.,
owing to an idea which generally prevailed that fish
was an article of diet having a tendency to produce the
disease. Sir Humphry Davy, in his ‘Salmonia,’ asserts
that “the true epicurean way of eating fresh salmon”
is to use no other sauce than the water in which he is
boiled; and Linneens, in his ‘ Lapland Tour,’ says that
the inhabitants kuow no other soup or spoon meat than
the water in which their fish is cooked.
Besides the destruction of salmon in the proper sea-
son, for the legitimate purpose of increasing the supply
of food, there are depredations committed by poachers
during “‘close time” which are far more injurious. It
has been stated by well-informed persons, that 20,000
salmon reach the London market after the 4th of Sep-
tember, when the season has legally terminated in all
parts of Scotland, with the exception of the Tweed; and
as many of these salmon are thea in roe, they would, if
allowed to spawn, be sufficient to stock all the coasts and
rivers of Scotland. But the number thus destroyed in
close time, and brought to the metropolis, is probably less
than that which is taken and consumed in the vicinity
of the different rivers. As large a Sum as 600/. has
been expended in a year for the protection of the fish
in the Tweed, but it is difficult to detect poachers; and
in one year the conservators took eighty nets out of the
river in close time while the men to whom they be-
longed were looking on, for unless they are taken with
the nets in their hands there can be no conviction, and
it is therefore useless to institute legal proceedings.
The protection of the tributaries of a salmon river may
be considered quite impracticable, as the value of the
object would be so extremely disproportionate to the
means which it would be necessary to adopt. After the
breeding fish have been aliowed to deposit their spawn,
and the fry have come to life, an immense number of
1837.)
the latter never reach the sea, but are destroyed in the
‘mill-dams in consequence of their being unable to pass
the obstacles which they encounter there. When the
miller takes out his creel the fry are taken out by
baskets full, and are given to the pigs. ‘The injury
which is done to the fishery might easily: be remedied
by opening a sluice in the dam-dyke, which would allow
the fry to pass down into the bed of the river. ‘Then,
again, when the salmon have attained maturity, they
are exposed to the voracious attacks of the grampus,
porpoise, and seal, which frequent the mouths of sal-
mon rivers for the purpose of feeding npon them. At
the mouth of the Tay, in the fishing season, above 300
porpoises may be seen at one time, and three or four
flocks of seals of from 60 to 80 each. ‘The latter never
leave the Tay, but the former visit it about the com-
mencement of April, and leave it towards the end of
August. It is supposed that a porpoise will destroy
four or five full grown salmon in one day, and a seal
has been known to take six or eight fish in the course
of a few hours. As much salmon has been found in
the stomach of a porpoise as one man could lift. ‘The
quantity of salmon destroyed by these constant enemies
probably exceeds that which is taken for the food of
man. The porpoise, it is said, will yield nearly a hogs-
head of oil; its flesh may be eaten, though it is not
very palatable, and the skin may be converted into
leather. The seal is also of sufficient value to warrant
the outlay necessary for its capture; and even if it were
utterly worthless, there would be many salmon saved
for every seal which was destroyed. It does not ap-
pear, however, that the capture of any of these enemies
of the salmon occupies the attention which it deserves,
though there is little doubt that if some systematic
mode were in constant operation, the value of the
fisheries would be greatly increased. This is surely an
object, where so large a sum as 8000/. a-year is some-
times paid as the rent of a fishery (one which belonged
to the late Duke of Gordon, on the Spey), and where the
expenses of management may amount to 4000/. a-year
more. Seventy years ago, according to Pennant, there
were on the Tweed “‘ forty-one considerable fisheries, |
extending npwards abont fourteen miles from the mouth
(the others above being of no great value), which are
rented for near 5400/. per annum. The expenses at-
tending the servants’ wages, nets, boats, &c., amount to
5000/7. more, which together makes up the sum of
10,4002. Now, in consequence, the produce must defray
all; and no less than twenty times that sum of fish will
effect it, so that 208,000 salmon must be caught there
one year with another.” The rental of the whole of
the fisheries on the Tweed averaged about 12,000/.
a-year for the seven years preceding 1824. ‘The most
valuable fisheries are within two miles of the mouth of
the river, and the rental of those within seven miles of
the mouth was about 9000/. a-year. The produce of
the fisheries on the Tweed for the twenty-nine years
preceding 1824 averaged about 8000 boxes each year.
PHILOSOPHICAL EXPERIMENTS WHICH, BY
MEANS OF APPARATUS WITHIN THE REACH
OF EVERY PERSON, MAY BE EASILY PER-
FORMED.
I. In Acovstics.
THe way in which sound is produced is by an elastic
substance being put into a state of vibration, by some
means, which then imparting its motions to the air, is
by that medium transferred to the ear, and thence to
the nerves, provided to make us sensible of the effect
produced. Ifa glass tumbler he struck with the finger,
it vibrates and produces a certain sound. But in con-
sequence of the rapidity of its motions, the vibrations
cannot well be distinguished; a certain faintness of
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
19i
outline will, however, be perceptible on the rim. If a
small light ball, as a pea, be suspended by a string so
Ic, |.
i ‘i i iy
‘if (%
i
as to hang close to the edge of the glass; when the
tumbler is again struck with the finger—or excited by
drawing a violin-bow across the rim—the ball will fly
off from the glass, and then falling back, it will again
be struck off, and so on, until the vibration ceases. If
the elass, while in a state of vibration, be brought near
to where the sun shines through a window, the minute
particles of dust floating in the atmosphere, which are
seen in the vivid light of the sunbeam, will be put into
a state of violent commotion, showing plainly the
vibration of the air from the impulse of the vibrating
o'lass.
Lhe way in which the motion of the sounding body
Is propagated through the air, is similar to the circle
of waves which arise on throwing a stone into a pool
of water. Although the waves are perceived at a
distance of some hundred feet from the place where the
stone fell, yet the individual drop of water which the
stone first touched, has not moved perhaps atall. The
motion being transferred from one particle to another,
over a large space, without those particles moving much
out of their respective situations. ‘This may be illus-
trated by the followine easy experiment :—On an even
line s s, hang as many balls as you please; then ele-
vate the ball a to c, where it is represented by the
dotted lines. When it falls it will strike the ball next
to it, and that force will be imparted through all the
balls without any apparent motion in them, until it
reaches the last (8), which will be thrown out nearly
top. ‘These balls may represent the atoms or particles
of matter composing the air. Then a vibrating body
having communicated a motion at A, it will be continued
through the air, until it reaches the ear at B, where the
effect will be felt by organs purposely placed there by
our Creator to transfer such sensation to the mind.
The difference of tone perceived in vibrating bodies is
caused by the number of beats made in a certain time.
For instance, if a string a B be pulled up to a, and then
Fig. 3.
suffered to collapse, it will fall nearly to 6, and will
!then return nearly to @ again, and so on, diminishing
the distance at each pulsation. When the string 1s
pulled by the finger to a, it will form an angle as
represented by the straicht lines; but when vibrating
by itself, it forms a segment of a circle, as represented
by the dotted lines. The motion of the string from
a to b, and back again, is called a vibration™. When
' ® Some persons hold that the moving of the string merely
from a to b constitutes a vibration, but the definition given in the
text appears to us the better one. :
192
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
[May 20, 1887
these vibrations occur with a velocity of sixteen in a {The best way to perform this experiment is to place the
second of time, a very low sound is heard, and as the] glass between a pair of pincers, as in Fie. 6, (with
little pieces of cork at a a, to defend the glass,) and
to excite it with a violin-bow. The position of the
pincers may be altered to any part of the glass, which
Fig. 6.
velocity of the pulsations increase, the sound becomes
shriller or higher. ‘The nerves of the human ear are
so constituted as only to take cognizance of those sounds
produced between the extremes of sixteen pulsations in
a second, and 15,000; above which extremes no sound
can be heard. It is conceived that insects produce
sounds which, though heard by their own species, are
so very shrill as to be undistinguishable by us.
All sonorous vibrating bodies will be found to have
certain parts moving quickly while other parts are at
rest. Tie a piece of string A B at B, apply the hand to
Fig. 4.
the end B, and move it up or down about twice in a
second, we may then perceive the string assume a form
similar to that in Fie, 4—that is, the parts at s s
will be moving very quickly, so as to appear as seg-
ments of circles, while no motion will be observed at
nN. If pieces of paper, as a, be laid across the string
at various parts, it will be found that they will all be
shaken off except those placed at the points nn. If
the motion of the hand be increased, there will be more
waves produced. The stationary points N N are called
nodes, and the vibrating portions are denominated
harmonic segments.
~ “All bodies in a state of vibration, of whatever forms
they may be, will possess the harmonic nodes and see- |
ments arranged in some manner. If a bell or glass
bowl be pnt into a state of vibration, the nodes and
sevments may be perceived around the rim, and will
appear as if a vibrating string, A B, had been made
into a circle, so as to bring the ends, @ 6, close to each
Be. a.
other. This may be shown by placing little balls round
the wlass as in (2) Fig. 5. Now the glass, being made
to vibrate by drawing a violin-bow across the rim, if it is
sufficiently large, will produce a note by which the sege-
meuts will be four in number; and the balls placed at
N NNN, (being the nodes, or silent parts,) will not
move, although the others will be violently repelled.
The form of the vibrating portions of the goblet will be
better understood by a reference to (3) Fig. 5, which is
intended for the glass seen from above. A square flat
piece of @lass will have segments and nodes somewhat
similar to the glass tumbler, but the number and di-
mensions of_ these vibrating portions will be according
to the note produced,—the manner in which the glass
is held,—and the way in which it is excited.
said is strewed over a flat piece of glass, the vibrations
will throw the sand into a variety of beautiful figures.
If dry |
may be of all forms and sizes. In the above four squares
are delineated some of the most simple figures which
may be produced by these means; they are, however,
infinite. We are indebted to Chladni and Savard for
these ingenious experiments. ,
Besides the lateral or normal vibrations of a string,
of which we have hitherto only spoken, there are
vibrations produced longitiudinally ; to render which
apparent, Professor Wheatstone, of King’s Collewe, has
constructed a very simple but ingenious and amusing
instrument, which he calls a ‘* Kaliedophoue.” In a
strong stand there are fastened several wires, bent in
various forms, each surmounted by a glass bead filled
with mercury. (See Fig. 7.) A wire is pnt in motion
by drawing: a violin-bow across it, and the bright bead
at the top will render the form of the vibrations easily
apparent. Of course, the figure produced will vary
with the length and thickness of the wire, and the place
where the bow touches it.
We subjoin some of the most common figures. When
the experiment is performed by candlelight, the re-
flection on the bead, seen against a dark background,
appears as a figure of fire, and of course is very beau-
tiful.
Ex xO
*,* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at
59, Lincoln’s Inn Fields.
LONDON: CHARLES KNIGHT & CO., 22, LUDGATe STREET.
Printed by Witt1am Ciowsgs and Sons, Stamford Street.
THE PI
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OF THE
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Some aceount of the Chippeway Indians was given in
No. 325 of the ‘ Penny Magazine. Mackenzie, in his
account of his voyages from Montreal to the Pacific
and the Frozen Oceans, says, that when the French
missionaries first visited the shores of Lake Superior,
they found the country full of inhabitants; but their
nuinbers are now greatly diminished. Scanty rem-
nants of the Chippeways are living under the pro-
tection of the British government, and lead a kind of
half-civilized life, but retaining much of their primitive
habits in obtaining subsistence. ‘They are described
by Mackenzie (who spent many years in the north and
north-west territory towards the close of the last cen-
tury,) as not being “remarkable for their activity as
hunters, which is owing to the ease with which they
snare deer and spear fish: and these occupations are
not beyond the strength of their old men, women, and
boys; so that they participate in those laborious occu-
pations which among their neighbours are confined to
the women.” * * * ‘The country,” he adds,
in another part of his work, ‘which these people
claim as their land [Mackenzie means the country
north and north-west of Lake Superior, to which his
description applies, and not the more fertile country
ronnd the great lakes] has a very small quantity of
earth, and produces little or no wood or herbage. Its
chief vewetable substance is the moss, on which the
PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY.
[May 27, 1837.
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boiled in water, it dissolves into a clammy elutinous
substance, which affords a very sufficient nourishment.
But, notwithstanding the barren state of their country,
with proper care and economy, these people might live
in great comfort,—for the lakes abound with fish, and
the hills are covered with deer. ‘Though, of all the
Indian people of this continent, they are considered as
the most provident, they suffer severely at certain
seasons, and particularly in the dead of winter, when
they are under the necessity of retiring to their scanty,
stinted woods.” ‘This was written nearly forty years
avo. ‘The approaches of emigration have assisted to
ameliorate the condition of those who still remain.
The view given above represents Chippeway Indians
fishing on the River Thames. The Thames is the
name given to a river of considerable size, which rises
in the country between lakes Ontario aud Huron, and,
after passing several settlements bearing English names,
such as Oxford, London, and Chatham, falls into Lake
St. Clair. The correspondent who has supplied this
sketch, as well as the previous one in No. 329, states
that it was taken on the upper part of the River
Thames. The mode of fishing represented in the en-
eraving requires a dexterity in its management which
scarcely any but an Indian can achieve. ‘Two Indians
occupy a canoe in the centre of the stream. One
poises himself on each edge of the vessel in front, the
deer feed; and a kind of rock-moss, which, in times of’ other in a similar way behind: each has a fish-spear.
When
scarcity, preserves the lives of the natives.
Vou. VI.
The canoe, though probably in the centre of a rapid
2C
194
stream, amid rocks, and shoals, and eddies, is kept
perfectly steady, aud in a straight course, by occasional
thrusts and shoves at any object which presents itself,
—an overhanging or sunken rock, or the broken trunk
of a fallen tree. ‘The labour of keeping the boat steady
does not interfere with the spearing of the fish, which
is carried on In sitence, and with unceasing attention.
The fish, as caught, are jerked off the spear into the
boat; they are afterwards handed over to the women,
who clean them, and dry them by suspending them
from a stick over a smoky fire, as represented in the
engraving. Our correspondent, who has had oppor-
tunities of observing the habits of the Indians, says,
that this mode of catching fish never fails to attract the
attention of Europeans, from the dexterity with which
it is done, and the seeming danger of the operation.
The Indians resort to the streams and rapids in spring
and autumn, as the fish are then running—attempting
the passes in shoals.
Another correspondent has’ supplied an account of!
his fishing adventures in the same quarter of America.
** Near Fort Erie,” he says, ‘‘ the waters of the lake
escape over a low barrier of limestone rock, and thence
form the Niagara River. A little below this outlet I
used to amuse myself on the fine summer nights with
spearing bass (two or three sorts), pickerel, white fish,
salmon-trout, herring, muskanungee (large pike), perch,
&c. ‘The>mode I adopted was that of the Indians.
Accompanied by another person to steer my canoe, with
a few blazing pine-knots in an elevated basket of iron-
wire fixed in the bow of the vessel, we would Jaunch
ourselves on the eddies and slack waters of the river,
and drift silently along with -the current. My steers-
man would sit with his paddle in the stern of the canoe,
while I stood, spear in hand, as near the blazing fire as
practicable. There are shoals of small fish frequenting
the shores and shallows in the summer season, when,
soon after nightfall, the larger fish leave the deep water
and go in quest of the small fry, upon which they prey.
I have sometimes found them in such abundance, that
at nearly every plunge of my trident I brought a good-
sized fish into the canoe. Sometimes we happened to
fall in with an overgrown muskanungee, weighing sixty
or seventy pounds, on which occasions I would resign
my spear to my steersman (who was all but amphi-
bious) ; who, having struck the barbed prongs into the
body of the fish, at a single bound would jump astride
of the wounded and alarmed creature, and away they
would flounder together through the water. It then
became my duty to paddle after them as close as pos-
sible, in order to afford my companion the benefit of’
the light in the canoe, as well as to have my small
vessel at hand, in case the fish and the fisherman got
into deep water. If the fish could be prevented from
attaining this object (which it invariably attempted),
then its fate was all but certain; for where the water
was sufficiently shallow to admit of it, the dexterous
fisherman would rest his whole weight upon the pike’s
back, through which means, and the loss of blood, it
was soon compelled to yield up the contest. This
amusement was never practised .but when the water
was unruffled and the weather moderately warm. The
waters of Lake Erie being rather shallow, they conse-
quently become warm by the continual action of the
sun during June, July, and August, to a degree the
waters of our lakes and rivers never attain. ‘The plan
{ have mentioned was but a.rude mode of fishing, but
it was nevertheless a productive one; and for the want
of some other more refined and intellectual I sometimes
practised it, induced to do so by the two-fold conside-
ration of profit and amusement.”
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
[May 27,
THE AMERICAN CIDER-MILL—CIDER-ROYAL
AND CIDER-WINE.
{From a Correspondent.]
Crper may be considered as the common beverage of
the great bulk of the people of America (except in some
of the larger towns and cities, where malt-liquor has
partially superseded it). Some account, therefore, of
their manner of making it, and of manufacturing
it into ctder-royal and cider-wine, may be generally
interesting.
In the interior of America everything is made of
wood, wherever possible for timber to answer, even
imperfectly, the purposes to which iron and stone are
commonly applied in older and less wooded countries.
This, in a great measure, is Owing to the cheapness
of timber (which, often, is absolutely valueless to the
owner of the soil on which it grows),—but also, in
part, to the farmer’s capability of performing the whole,
or the greatest portion of the required labour with his
own hands, (for where is there an American farmer
who is not a sort of carpenter?) which he would be
unable to do were the works to be constructed prin-
cipally of iron or stone. This being the case, the
American “‘cider-mills” are made wholly of wood,
neither stone nor iron being required in their construc-
tion; in some cases, scarcely so much of the latter
material as a common-sized nail is employed by the
domestic architect. ‘The American cider-mill consists
of two distinct parts—that where the apples are ground
or crushed, and that where the juice or cider is expressed.
The first part consists of two upright hard-wood cylin-
ders, of fifteen or eighteen inches diameter, the leneth
being somewhat greater. The cylinders are placed in
a strong frame, and in such a manner that a lever in-
serted into an upright shaft, which rises above the frame,
turns one of them, and that one acting upon the other
by means of cogs, inserted irrewularly into the face of
each of the cylinders, but so as to correspond as they
revolve, turns the other. Immediately above the cylin-
ders is placed a hopper, into which the apples are put;
and it is so contrived that as the cylinders revolve the
apples fall in between them from an opening in the
bottom of the hopper, and having been completely
crushed, they fall into the receiving-trough, which is
placed directly underneath. As the cylinders can be
brought into the closest. contact by the use of wedges,
it may easily be supposed that the apples will receive a
complete mashing, although but a small portion of the
seeds are bruised; but the Americans do not consider
it necessary to bruise the seed of the apples in order to
obtain good cider. The lever attached to one of the
cylinders is made of a suitable shape and length for the
purpose of being worked by a horse, which part of the
process is denominated ‘* apple-grinding.”
As near as convenient to the scene of grinding, the
expressing department is situated ;—which, properly
enough, is called “the press.” It consists of a pair of
very stout upright timbers, or posts, connected at the
top by a cross piece of timber equally strong, whieh is
perforated with a couple of holes for the purpose of
receiving two long and stout wooden screws. At a
convenient height from the ground a platform of stout
planks is formed, upon which “ the cheese” (as the
bruised apples are termed when formed with straw into
a circular pile on the platform,) is placed, preparatory
to the juice being expressed. And here, again, in the
construction of the ‘‘ cheese,” we may observe the
domestic economy of the American cider-maker; for
instead of enclosing the ‘‘ must” (as the ground apples
are called in England) in a coarse hair-cloth, he sub-
stitutes clean rye or wheat straw, and he manages this
part of the business in the following manner :—In the
first place he spreads a thin covering of straw upon the
1837.]
platform, and thereupon a stratum of eround apples of
three or four inches in thickness, It is absolutely ne-
cessary that the ends of the straw should project fifteen
or eighteen inches beyond the apples, because the straw
has to be bent upwards, and the ends brought suf-
ficiently inwards, upon the apples; so that when another
course of straw is spread upon the first stratum of apples,
aud more apples placed upon it, the bends of the first
course of straw will prevent the apples from being
pushed out when pressure is applied; and the weight of
each succeeding stratum of apples keeps the ends of
each succeeding course of straw in their proper place.
Thus by a constant succession of apples and straw a
‘““ cheese”? of any altitude may be formed, but one of
four or five feet in thickness is considered a convenient
size; this, however, in a great measure depends upon
the quantity of apples on hand, as well as upon the
capacity of the press. When the building of the
“cheese” is completed, stout planks are placed upon
it, and the screws are brought to act upon the planks
by means of handspikes or levers. It should have been
observed, that a circular groove is cut in the platform,
outside the foundation of the cheese, with an outlet on
one side for the escape of the liquor into proper vessels
placed below for its.reception. When the cheese ceases
to give out more juice, the cider-maker pares off its
outer extremity, where the folded straw forms an ob-
struction to the free escape of the liquor; and then the
screws are again applied, until nothing remains to
be given out by the mass of straw, and, now, sapless
apples. The juice is then put into barrels, where it is
permitted to remain unclosed until the fermentation
has partially subsided, when it is closely bunged up,
and in the course of two or three months considered
fit for use. Many of the cider-makers introduce half a
gallon of common whisky into a barrel coutaining
something over thirty gallons of cider ; but, although
it may increase its strength, it tends to give it an un-
pleasant flavour. Brandy is used occasionally; and
were it necessary to make use of ardent spirits at all,
there can be no doubt but that brandy improves cider a
great. deal more than common whisky. They tell you
that this mixing of spirits with cider is not done for the
sake of increasing the strength of this:common beve-
rage, but toprevent it from becoming sour. Indeed,
it is somewhat difficult, where the summers are very
hot, and the cellars .of the farm-houses but imperfectly
constructed, to keep cider long without its becoming
‘hard’ (sourish). Many of the members of the Tein-
perance Societies are most inveterate cider-drinkers ;
and it is sometimes a little amusing to hear them make
auxlous inquiries, previous to their gulping down two
or three tumblers of cider, whether or not ardent spirits
had been mingled with it,—lest they should unwittingly
swallow that which they had forsworn the use of; ap-
parently unmindful of the fact, that pure cider, without
any additional spirit, probably contains one-tenth or
one-twelfth of that very principle, alcohol, which they
so properly abominate. |
The best cider-fruit in Anierica is the Virginian crab;
but as there is little attention paid to the kind or quality
of the apples generally used for cider-making through-
out the greater portion of the country, one but seldom
meets with really good and delicious cider; although
froin the great heat and dryness of the climate during
the summer, a superior flavour is imparted to the
apples, and thence, of course, to the cider also. From
eight to nine bushels of apples, Winchester measure,
will yield a barrel of cider containing thirty-two or
thirty-three gallons.
Cider-royal, or, as our plain republican connexions
on the other side of the Atlantic—probably from some
ancient antipathy to the word reya/—now denominate
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
19S
it, cider-oul, is made by reducing common cider by the
process of boiling. By this means, when cider is very
abundant, and consequently very cheap, many of the
country people will boil down three or four barrels into
one; so that boiled cider is much richer, as well as
more intoxicating, than when in its ordinary state.
Besides, it keeps much better, and longer, when it has
thus acquired more body and strength by this mode
of evaporation. Although cider-oil is luscious and
inebriating, it is by no means a pleasant drink, or
calculated to allay thirst, and therefore it is not brought
to table as an every-day beverage, but kept for seasons
of merry-making; or to present, on particular occasions,
to persons of more than ordinary consideration.
Cider-wine is the name given by the Americans to
such cider as has been reduced in bulk by the action of
severe frost; while at the same time its strength is
Increased in a proportion nearly corresponding: to the
reduction which takes place, and this seems the prin-
cipal reason why it is called cider-wine. The plan
adopted to reduce cider to this state, is to expose it for
some time to the action of severe frost during the
winter season. A barrel of common cider is emptied
into a wide and shallow vessel, which is placed in a
situation where it may be freely acted upon by the frost.
Ice then forms on the surface of the cider, according: to
the degree of cold, which having been removed once or
twice in the twenty-four hours for a number of suc-
cessive days, a large portion of. the aqueous part of the
cider will have been subtracted in the form of ice; while
nearly all the spirituous part remains behind in the
vessel. I have frequently known cider reduced to a
fourth or fifth of the original bulk in this way; but
attempts at a further reduction do not very well suc-
ceed; for it is then found that a considerable portion
of the spirit becomes embodied in the ice alone with
the water.
After the cider has been sufficiently reduced in this
way, the cider-wine, as it is then called, is either returned
into clean casks, or else bottled; and in either case it
ought to be kept where there is a moderate degree of
temperature. ‘The flavour of the best quality of cider-
wine is still ciderish ; but where other and better wine is
comparatively scarce, it Serves as a tolerable substitute.
The potency of this liquor may readily be conceived ;
for where five barrels have been reduced to the bulk of
one, that one will contain the spirit of four barrels, at
the lowest calculation; but an allowance ought always
to be made for some loss of the spirituous part, since
more or less of it escapes along with the frozen water.
Supposing the cider originally to have contained no
more than eight per cent. of alcohol, then in the five’
barrels there would be forty per cent. on that quantity
becoming reduced to one barrel; but allowing, as
before stated, the spirit of one barrel, or eight per cent.,
to have been lost in the process of freezing, still there.
would remain thirty-two per cent. of alcohol; so that
about one-third of this beverage, which is geuerally.
considered innocent and simple, is actually genuine
spirit of wine. |
THE DINOTHERIUM.
Some of the more remarkable of the results of osteo-
logical investigation, as connected with geological re-
searches, lave been presented to the reader in previous
portions of the ‘ Penny Magazine.’ Osteology is that
branch of science which describes and classifies the
bones of animals. By means of it the comparative
anatomist, in junction with the geologist, has been
enabled to make many wonderful discoveries respecting
the forms and habits of animals extinct for many
thousand years. ‘‘ A comparative ca of pro-
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{Professor Kaup’s a of Dinotherium giganteum. |
found learning and marvellous sagacity, has presented
to him what to common eyes would seem a piece of
half-decayed bone, found in a wild, in a forest, or in a
cave. By accurately examining its shape, particularly
the form of its extremity or extremities Cif both ends
happen to be entire) by close inspection of the texture
of its surface, and by admeasurement of its proportions,
he can with certainty discover the general form of the
animal to which it belonged, its size as well as its
shape, the economy of its viscera, and its general
nabits. Sometimes the investigation in such cases pro-
ceeds upon chains of reasoning, where all the links are
seen and understood ; where the connexion of the parts
found with other parts and with habitudes is perceived
and the reason understood—as that the animal had a
trunk because the neck was short compared with its
height ; or that it ruminated because its teeth were
imperfect for complete mastication. But frequently
the inquiry is as certain in its results, although some
links of the chain are concealed from our view, and the
conclusion wears a more empirical aspect—as grather-
ing that the animal ruminated, from observing the
print of a cloven hoof, or that he had horns from his
wanting certain teeth, or that he wanted the collar
bone from his having cloven hoofs. Limited expe-
rience having already shown such conclusions as facts,
more extended experience will assuredly one day enable
us to comprehend the reason of the connexion*.”
Cuvier, judging from the form of the molar teeth of.
the dinotherium, which nearly resembles that of the
tapirs, supposed them to be a gigantic species of that
“* A Discourse of Natural Theology, by Lord Brougham,
p- 45,
genus. Professor Kaup has since described the dino-
therium as an extinct senus, holding an intermediate
place between the tapir and the mastédon. Frag-
ments of the bones of this genus have been found in
several parts of France, and in Bavaria and Austria:
the most abundant remains were found at Applesheim,
in the province of Hesse Darmstadt, where an entire
head--the most perfect portion hitherto found-—was
discovered in the autumn of last year (1836).
The dinotherium is described as having been the
largest of terrestrial mammalia; one species of the
venus—Dinotherium gisanteum—has been calculated
both by Cuvier and Kaup to have attained the extra-
ordinary length of eighteen feet. Dr. Buckland, in his
‘ Bridvewater Treatise, (vol.i., pp. 137, 138) thus states
what has been conjectured respecting the habits of the
dinotherium :— :
“Tt is mechanically impossible that a lower jaw,
nearly four feet long, loaded with such heavy tusks at
its extremity, conld have been otherwise than cumbrous
and inconvenient to a quadruped living on dry land.
No such disadvantage would have attended this struc-
ture in a large animal destined to live in water; and
the aquatic habits of the family of Tapirs, to which the
dinotherium was most nearly allied, render it probable
that, like them, it was an inhabitant of fresh-water lakes
and rivers. ‘To an animal of such habits, the weight of
the tusks sustained in water would have been no source
of inconvenience ; and if we suppose them to be em-
ployed as instruments for raking and grnubbing up by
the roots large aquatic vegetables from the bottom,
they would, under such service, combine the mechanical
| powers of the pick-axe with those of the horse-harrow
1837.
of modern husbandry. The weight of the head, placed
above these downward tusks, would add to their effi-
ciency for the service here supposed, as the power of
the harrow is increased by loading it with weights.
The tusks of the dinotheriam may also have been
applied with mechanical advantage to -hook on the
head of the animal to the bank, with the nostrils sus-
tained above the water, so as to breathe securely during
sleep, whilst the body remained floating at perfect ease
beneath the surface; the’ animal might thus repose,
moored to the margin of a lake or river, without: the
slightest muscular exertion, the weight of the head and
body tending to keep and: fix the tusks fast anchored
in the substance of the bank; as the weight of the
body of a sleeping bird keeps the claws clasped firmly
around its perch. ‘These tusks might have been further
used, like those in the upper jaw of the walrus, to
assist in dragging the body out of the water; and also
as formidable instrnments of defence. The structure
of the scapula already noticed, seems to show that the
fore lex was adapted toco-operate with the tusks and
teeth, in digging and separating large vegetables from
the bottom. The great length attributed to the body,
would have been no way inconvenient to an animal
living in the. water, but attended with much mecha-
nical- disadvantage to so weighty a quadruped upon
land.” In anote in the second volume of the work,
(p. 19) Dr. Buckland adds,—‘* From the near approxi-
mation of this animal] to the living tapir, we may infer
that it was furnished with a proboscis, by means of
which it conveyed to its mouth the vegetables it raked
from tle bottom of lakes and rivers by its tusks and
claws.” -
The head discovered in 1836 has been made the
WAV AS
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J AQ AO <i Hh | Ne he : ee SSE %.
a at 5 Ne ow
é HAV NAN ih ti a
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ARAN E ANY
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{Skull of Dinotherium giganteum, discovered in 1836. ]
subject of a work by Professor Kaup and Dr. Klipstein.
In this work (which was published at Darmstadt) they
confirm the conjectures of Dr. Buckland respecting the
habits of the animal. In accordance with these views,
Professor Kaup has given a restoration of Dinotherium
giganteum, in which he has supplied the animal with a
proboscis, and given its form as somewhat resembling
that of the tapir.
The head has been carried to Paris, and from its
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
197
inspection the French naturalists appear to have differed
in opinion from Professor Kaup and Dr. Buckland as
to the form and character of Dinotherium, Ata sitting
of the. Académie Royale des Sciences, on the 20th of
March of the present year, M. de Blainville read a note,
detailing his views, in which he says, ‘The dinotherium
was an animal of the family of the Lamantins, or
Aquatic Gravigrades, its proper position being at the
head of the family, preceding the dugong, and conse-
quently preceded by the tetracaulodon, which ought to
terminate the family of the Elephants. . In a word, the
animal, in our opinion, was a dugong with tusk-incisors.
We must then suppose that it had only one pair of
anterior limbs, with five toes on each. As to the sup-
position that the animal was provided with ‘a trunk,
which might be presumed from the great nasal opening,
the enlarged surfaces which surround it, and the size
of the suborbital nerve, as far as it may be judged of
from the size of the suborbital hole, we believe that
that is at least doubtful, and that it is more probable
that these dispositions bear relation to a considerable
development of the upper lip and the necessary modifi-
cation of the nostrils in an aquatic animal, as is equally
the case in the dugong.” |
On this opinion the author of the article Dinorue-
RIUM, In the ‘ Penny Cyclopedia,’ says, ‘* Withont
venturing to give any opinion as to the true position of
this interesting genus in the animal series till an op-
portunity has been afforded of examining the skull
itself, we may be permitted to observe, that the evidence
on which M. de Blainville is stated to have rested for
the cetaceous character of dinotherium, appears to us
to be rather meagre, and hardly sufficient to warrant
the conclusion. It is trne that he is supported by the
respectable names of MM. Dumeéril and Isidore Geoffroy
Saint-Hilaire; but if the report be correct, the exami-
nation of the skull and the whole proceeding at the
sitting of the 20th of March, with reference to dino-
theriunl, bear traces of a somewhat hasty character.”
ICE-MAKING IN BENGAL.
Many persons suppose that there is no ice in India, and
it has even been said that there is no word meaning ice
in the languages of that country; but this is an error.
It freezes regularly during the winter in many of the
northern provinces, and even in the burning climate of
Bengal ice may be procured at a moderate price at
certain seasons of the year. Ice cannot be obtained in
the warmer parts of India without some degree of art,
although it must not be denominated an entirely arti-
ficial production, as mere exposure to the air nnder
peculiar circumstances is sufficient to produce it. The
means adopted by the natives of Bengal for this effect
are well described by Dr. Wise, of Calcutta, who has
investigated the subject with much attention, and con-
siderably extended the manufacture.
A certain tract in the neighbourhood of the town of
Hoogly is chosen for the production of ice; upon what
circumstances its peculiar adaptation depends appears
to be unknown, but the attempts to make ice in other
places have invariably afforded a much less quantity
than in this favoured spot. The preference is by nc
means fanciful; for although Hoogly is distant forty
miles from Calcutta, which 1s, as might be supposed,
the principal market forjthe produce, and notwith-
standing the expense, as well as great waste, attending
its passage to that city, yet all the native ice consumed
in Calcutta is made at Hoogly, and in the tract above
alluded to.
The good season for making ice does not last much
above six weeks, though small quantities may be pro-
duced a fortnight or more before and after the best
period; extending the whole time to ten or eleven
198
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
[May 27,
weeks—from the end of November to the middle of | near them, which are dragged along as they advance
February.
Tn preparing the spot for the purpose of ice-making
the natives usually hollow-out a piece of ground about
120 feet in length by 20 feet wide, to a ‘depth of two
feet, which they make as smooth as they can, and allow
to dry by exposure to the sun. When quite dry, this
hollow 1s covered with bundles of rice straw to the
depth of a foot, or more, and then loose straw is strewed
in, to a hei@lt within six inches of the surface of the
adjoining land. Upon this bed of loose straw, the
pans which are:to contain the water to be frozen, are
arranged in regular order. These pans or dishes are
a sort of saucer, not much unlike those we place under
our garden pots, but narrower in proportion towards
the bottom. ‘They are about nine inches wide at top,
one inch and a half in depth; and a quarter of an inch
thick: they are unglazed, and so porous, that .they:
become inoist throughout their substance when water
is poured into them. When the air towards evening’
is below 50° of Fahrenheit (18° above the freezing
point), and there is a gentle breeze from the north or
west, ice may be expected, and preparations are accord-
ingly made for collecting it. The saucers are arranged
in regular rows upon the straw, close to each other, the
whole bed containing about 5000 or 6000. The people
then take bamboo rods, lone enough to reach half way
across the bed: the rods are furnished with little earthen
pots fastened to the ends, for the purpose of filling the
saucers. The little pots are filled with soft pure water,
taken from large water jars sunk deep into the ground
near the ice beds, and previously filled with water from
pools in the neighbourhood, or with drainines from the
ice of preceding operations. ‘The natives put more or
iess water into each dish, according as they expect a
more or less favourable night for their purpose; and
this they are enabled to foresee from the direction and
steadiness of the wind, and clearness of the sky. A
N.N.W. wind is the most favourable; any point from
Ne to W. will do; but if the wind is anywhere between
iu, or S. no ice is expected, nor is any preparation made.
A change of wind during the night to the unfavourable
points will even re- -melt any ice that may have been
produced at an early hour. A state of calm is rather
prejudicial, aud a rough wind decidedly bad. About
half a pint of-water is ‘poured into each dish in the most
favourable nights; but at other times this quantity is
diminished toa quarter or even an eighth of a pint.
‘Everything being now disposed, Nature is left to do
her own work ; but her operations are carefully watched
by persons'stationed by the side of each ice-bed. The
freeze usually begins something before midnight.
So soon as the attendants perceive a slieht film of ice
forming over the surface of the pans, they mix together
the contents of several of them, and sprinkle the freezing
liquid over the remaining dishes, which they have found
from experience, considerably increases the quantity
produced on the whole. The freezing continues all the
night with accelerated force, aud at sunrise the ice will
be found in all the dishes to the thickness perhaps of
half an inch or more. Dr. Wise states that he has
seen ice seven-tenths of an inch thick, and that in very
favourable niglits the whole of the water contained in
the pans becomes one solid mass. In such cases the ice
sticks so fast to the rough nnelazed earthenware, that
it cannot be removed until partially dissolved’; and the
natives are frequently compelled to wait until the sun
is two hours and a half above .the horizon, ee they
can effect it.
The removal of the ice is generally accom by
women, of whom seven -or eight are stationed at each
ice-bed. ‘They use forthe purpose a blunt semicirenlar
knife, with which they scoop out:the ice, and then throw
in their work. When these vessels are full, their con-
tents are poured into conical-shaped baskets, placed
over the large water-jars which have been mentioned
before, as supplying the water for icing. By this
arrangement the cold produced is economized to a cou-
siderable extent; for the water which runs from the
collected ice falls through the crevices of the basket
into the water-jars, cooling their contents very mate-
rially, in furtherauce of the next night’s operations.
In this manner the degree of cold produced in the
pans which may not have been sufficient to freeze all
the water, is not wasted, as it would be if the unfrozen
water were thrown away, or left in the pans to be
heated by the sun in the day-time, which even at this
time of the year frequently produces a higher tem-
perature than that of our, hottest summer days.
The ultimate places of deposit of the ice thus manu-
factured are circular wells,,about twelve feet deep by
ulne in diameter, well lined: with mats, and covered
over with a stray shed; but as these wells are, for the
most part, constructed in situations at some distance |
from the ice-beds, it would hardly be practicable to -
deposit the ice in them before the day should be ad-
vanced, when the heat of the sun would rapidly melt all
ice not under close cover. ‘The ice taken out of the
baskets is consequently immediately placed in tempo-
rary wells of smaller dimensions, constructed .very near
the ice-beds, where it is allowed to remain during the
day, and whence it is removed to the large pits on the
following night. However well these pits may be de-
fended, it is not possible to prevent some degree of
melting; a slow dripping is constantly going on, and
the water thus produced is carried off through holes at
the bottom of the pits to a deep well in the neighbour-
hood. The ice consumed in Calcutta is conveyed in
boats during the night. When the weather is coldest, it
‘is simply packed in coarse bags of country cloth, and put
‘In bulk into the boats; but towards the beginning and
end of the season, when it is dearest and most difficult
to preserve, it is packed in baskets, well lined with
straw mats, and care is taken that it shall reach its
destination before sunrise.
There appears to be considerable difficulty in ac-
counting for the formation of ice under the circum-
stances detailed. A gentle wind from the north or
west appears to be essentially necessary, as is also a
clear cloudless sky; hut how these causes operate is
not easy to understand. Evaporation is by many per-
sons thought to be the immediate cause of the cold
produced; and as the favourable winds are all dry, the
evaporation may be supposed to be very great, particu-
larly when the width and shallowness of the pans are
considered. But the experiments of Dr. Wise contra-
dict this conclusion. He placed pans of water at a small
elevation above the ice-beds, but in every other respect
similarly situated to those on the straw; the result in
every case was, that although the quantity of water in
the raised pans was much diminished by evaporation, it
remained perfectly liquid while tae water in the beds
was covered with thick ice; and instead of evaporating
it was found in all cases to be actually increased in
weight by absorption. The porous nature of the un-
olazed earthenware is not productive of cold; Dr. Wise
found that in glazed dishes placed promiscuously with
those unglazed, the average quantity of ice was con-
siderably oreater than in the others, and brass pans
were found to contain a still larger proportion. The
straw on which the pans are arranged is an indispen-
sable part of the apparatus from its non- conducting
properties, though it cannot be a-cause of cold. When
ice was abundantly formed in the ordinary manner,
none was found in pans placed in the same bed without
it, water and all together, into earthen vessels placed | any, or with very little straw.
1837,]
All the precautions hitherto taken have failed in pre-
serving ice in the hot season in any quantity, although
Dr. Wise, who has greatly extended and improved the
native process, has partially succeeded, and has formed
hopes of complete success. The first heavy fall of rain
usually melts all that may be left to that season, and
the native of Bengal has still to envy the people of the
upper provinces, who are able to procure ice all the
year round. But American enterprise bids fair to
supply this long-desired luxury; a cargo of solid ice
shipped at Boston was discharged at Calcutta in Sep-
tember, 1833. This ice being much more solid than
the produce of the country, was calculated to resist the
heat much better; and it was so much cheaper, that
if would still find purchasers, though half of it should
be wasted by melting. ‘The price at which this ice was
offered was 3d. per |b., while the native ice conld not
be sold under 6d. The Americans expected, by im-
proved methods of packing, to lower the price of future
consignments one-half. a,
The vessel which conveyed the ice was fitted up ina
peculiar manner. A flooring of deal an inch in thick-
ness, was laid down upon the dunnage, and covered
with a layer of refuse tan or bark, well dried; upon this
was laid another floor of deal like the first. All the
four sides of the ice-chamber were made in the same
way, of double planking, with a layer of tan between
them ; the pump, well, and mainmast, which passed
through the chamber, were all boxed up in the same
manner, and insulated. In this chamber the ice was
packed in large cubes fitting close together, so as to
form one solid mass. The ice was- covered in with a
deal planking, which nearly reached the floor of the
lower deck, between which and the planking another
layer of dried tan was stuffed. The whole quantity
shipped was 180 tons, of which something more than
sixty wasted on the voyage, and nearly twenty on the
passage up the river to Calcutta, and in stowing away.
The whole quantity deposited in the ice-house was 100
tons. <A floating gauge and rod had been fitted to the
ice-chamber to ascertain the diminution on the voyage,
but it failed to indicate the quantity wasted, from the
unexpected circumstance of the melting taking place
between the cubes as deposited, and not on the surface.
Dr. Spry, in his ‘ Modern India,’ recently published,
states that two other vessels with similar cargoes have
since arrived at Calcutta.
SECRET SOCIETIES OR FRATERNITIES.
In such a country as Great Britain, it may be safely laid
down asa general rule that secret associations, especially
those whose object’ is to aim at political power, can
seldoni be based on sonnd moral principles. ‘I'he very
concealment itself, apart from the matters which it con-
ceals, lias a tendency to pervert the moral vision, and
to dispose the mind to confound the distinctions be-
tween right and wrong. There are, unfortunately, to
be found, scattered here and there in society, indivi-
duals of considerable mental activity, but whose rest-
lessness‘ and ambition are: but little controlled by a
sense of moral and social obligaticn: Such characters,
too frequently, are the founders of secret associations,
or they creep into them; and either contrive to lead the
mistaken men who compose them into perilous courses,
or they betray them. [Illustrations of the evils arising
from secret associations are not wanting in the history
of this aud other countries where anything like liberty
of action is enjoyed.
But it is in the East that we shall find illustrations
of the evils of secret associations, which are startling
and appalling in their nature. Arbitrary, capricious,
and cruel government, either in a nation or a house-
hold, 1s calculated to make the subjects of it cautious
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
199
and cunning, and either reckless and vindictive or
abject and deceitful. Thus the proverbial character of
the Jews is, in great part, to be attributed to the shock-
ing way in which, down till a comparatively recent
period, they were treated. The various and fluctuating
despotisms of the East have been peculiarly reckless of
life and property. If to this we add, a passive endur-
ance in disposition along with a subtle and crooked
intellect, we may find some clue to the causes how
secret associations have sprung up in oriental conn-
tries, in which men have been trained to regard crime
of the most shocking character as a duty, and‘a chief
object of their existence. Even with this view of the
matter, it is difficult to understand how the intellect
and moral sense can be so perverted, as some of the
following illustrations display. et us bear in mind,
however, that both in this country and in France we
have had recent individual examples of that restless
mental activity, and feeble moral control, which, when
once involved in bad purposes or scheines, too frequently
lead to the cammission of some horrid crime.
"There exist,’ says a recent Number of the ‘ Edin-
burgh Review,’ “in India, a vast fraternity of mur-
derers, consisting of any thousands Of persous. This
fraternity has existed for many ages, and through’ many
political revolutions ;—it has spread its ramifications
over the whole of that vast country, from Cape Co-
morin to the Himalayas ;—it has flourished alike under
Hindu, Mohammedan, and British rnlers ;—-it has every
year destroyed multitudes of victims: yet its constitu-
tlon—we may say'its very being—has been quite un-
known to the most active and vigilant English fimne-
tionaries, and very imperfectly understood even by the
native governments. It was indeed notorious that
vanes of thieves sometimes strangled’ travellers.’ It
was notorious that the members of these gangs were
unusually expert at the operation of strangling. But
that these gangs were merely small detached portions
of a vast organized community, the members of which
recognized each other as brethren in thie remotest parts
of India—that these murders were: all committed ac-
cording to certain ancient and solemn forms, and were
regarded by those who committed them, not as crimes,
but as solemn rites, which it would have been sinful to
omit——all this it was reserved for the present eeneration
to discover. One of the many obligations which India
owes to Lord William Bentinck is the complete unveil-
ing of this horrible and portentous system.”
These extraordinary people are known by the name
of Thugs, and their profession is called Thnggee. They
travel along the roads under various ‘assumed cha-
racters, In parties varying from ten or twelve to several
hundreds. Their victims are almost always travellers.
They never put them to death till they have a safe
opportunity, even if 1t should be necessary to follow
them hundreds of miles before they obtain one. Yet in
every respect in which their peculiar tenets do not
clash with the ordinary rules of morality, these pro-
fessional murderers are not only blameless, but even
exemplary in the performance of the various duties of
life. ‘The most hardened Thugs not unfrequently eain
the esteem of the European officers employed in seizing
them by the propriety of their conduct, and the mild
decorum of their manner.
The Thugs of India present, in some respects, a re-
markable modern contrast with the Assassins of more
ancient times. There is this important difference he-
tween them, however—the Thugs murder and rob; it
murdering they believe that they @ratify the sanguinary
deity whom they worship, and in robbing their victims
they gratify that avarice which, with deceit and cun-
ning, enter so largely into the Hindn -cliaracter.
Superstition and the more depraved propensities prompt
them to “hunt for the precious life.” But the Assassin
200
did not rob. He struck down his victim in obedience
to one whom he believed to be a messenger of God;
and in murdering, even at the risk of falling a victiin
himself, thought he was at once administering the
justice of heaven, and earning heaven as his reward for
the action. The Assassins still exist, as a sect, both
in Persia and Syria—but their doctrine is now merely
one of the speculative heresies of Mohammedanism.
Six centuries have nearly passed away since the de-
struction of their political organization; but their
history is one of the more remarkable of historical
phenomena.
In the introduction of a recently-published volume
of the ‘ Library of Entertaining Knowledge,’ it is stated,
that its object is to give “ the history of three cele-
brated societies which flourished during the middle
ages, and of which, as far as we know, no full and
satisfactory account is to be found in English litera-
ture*. These are—the Assassins, or Ismailites of the
East, whose name has become, in all the languages of
Europe, synonymous with murderer, who were a secret
society, and of whom we have in general such vague
and indistinct conceptions ;—the military order of the
Knights Templars, who were most barbarously perse-
cuted under the pretext of holding a secret doctrine,
and against whoin the charge has been renewed at the
present day ;—and, finally, the Secret Tribunals of
Westphalia, in Germany, concerning which all our in-
formation has hitherto been derived from the incorrect
statements of dramatists and romancers,”
The name ‘“ Assassins”? has been commonly derived
from that of the founder of this extraordinary con-
federacy, Hassan Sabah: but M. De Sacy has made it
probable that the Oriental term Hashisheen, of which
the Crusaders made Assassins, comes from Hashish, a
species of hemp, from which intoxicating opiates were
made, which the assassins were in the habit of taking
previously to engaging in their daring enterprises, or
employed as a medium of.procuring delicious visions of
the paradise promised to them by the Sheikh-al-Jebal,
or Mountain Chief. 'The word sheikh signifies either
an elder or chief: and the early European historians,
mistaking the meaning of the appellation of the head
of the Assassins, rendered Sheikh-al-Jebal by ‘* Old
Man of the Mountain.”
Hassan Sabah, a remarkable man, but whose cast of
mind appears to have been peculiarly fitted for the
formation of a secret association, after various vicissi-
tudes in life (his origin was somewhat obscure), con-
trived to gain a number of adherents to certain doc-
trines,—such as the Mohammedans, using’ our mode
of expression, would call a heresy, or dissent from the
prevailing and orthodox belief. He then, in the year
1090, contrived, by dexterity and fraud, to make him-
self master of an important hill-fortress, called Alamoot
(2. e. the Vulture’s Nest), one of the strongest of fifty
fortresses of the same kind which were scattered over
the district of Roodbar (River-land), the mountainous
region which forms the border between Persian Irak and
the more northerly provinces of Dilem and ‘Taberistan.
Here he reigned for thirty-four years, during which
time he had never been seen out of the Castle of Ala-
moot, and had been even known bunt twice to leave his
chamber, and to make his appearance on the terrace.
In silence and in solitude he pondered the means of
extending the power of the society of which he was the
head, and he drew up, with his own hand, the rules and
precepts which were to govern it. His followers were
ready, at his command, to lay down their lives. At his
nod, they would assume any disguise, travel any dis-
tance, wait and watch with patience any period, till
* Since the above work was prepared, a translation of Von
Hammer’s ‘ History of the Assassins’ has been pubbshed by
Dr. Oswald Charles Wood,
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
ee ee ON TT A Ea eT a TS a SA = i he ch eh eff ffs
[May 27, 1837.
they got- a favourable opportunity for dispatching the
victim he had marked out. Sultan Sanjar, who was,
in EHlassan’s time, the most powerful monarch of the
Fiast,—whose mandate was obeyed from Cashear to
Antioch—from the Caspian to the Straits of Bab-el-
Mandeb—on his march to lay sieve to Alamoot, found,
on awaking one morning, a dagger struck in the ground
close to his pillow. The Sultan was dismayed, but he
concealed his terror, and a few days afterwards there
came a brief note from Alamoot, containing: these words,
‘* Were we not well affected towards the Sultan, the
dagger had been struck in his bosom,—not in the
ground!” In the early part of the twelfth century the
dread of the followers of Hassan Sabah had sunk deep
into the hearts of all the princes of the East—for there
was no security against their dagwers.
The political organization of the Assassins lasted
rather more than a century and a half. After Hassan’s
death, a number of heads of the confederacy bore, in
succession, the title of Sheikh-al-Jebal. At last Ala-
moot was-taken by the Mongols, under Hoolagoo, the
brother of .Mangoo, the grandson. of the celebrated
Chingis Khan. Marco Polo, the Venetian traveller,
resided a long time at the court of Mangoo. ‘The con-
querors, in addition to Alamoot, destroyed or took pos-
session of all the castles of the Ismailites, amounting to
upwards of 100 in number. ‘There fell, also, in indis-
criininate massacre, upwards of 12,000 Ismailites. The
process was short: wherever a member of the society
was imet with, he was, without any trial, ordered to
kneel down, and his head instantly rolled on the ground.
We can hardly wonder at this retaliatory vengeance.
In a subsequent paper, we shall give some account
of the Secret Tribunals of Westphalia, whose history
possesses as much interest as that of the Assassins, with
e
far less of its saneuinary character.
Proof of Design in the Origin o- Iron and Coal.—The
important uses of coal and-iron in administering to the
supply of our daily.wants, give to every individual amongst
us, in almost every moment of our lives, a personal concern,
of which but few are conscious, in the geological events of
very distant eras. We are all brought into immediate con-
nexion with the vegetation that clothed the ancient earth
before one-half of its actual surface had yet been formed.
Lhe trees of the primeval forests have not, like modern
trees, undergone decay, yielding back their elements to the
soil and atmosphere by which they had been nourished ;
but, treasured up in subterranean storehouses, have been
transformed into enduring beds of coal, which in these later
ages have become to man the sources of heat, and light,
aud wealth. My fire now burns with fuel, and my lamp is
shining with the light of gas, derived from coal that has
been buried for countless ages in the deep and dark recesses
of the earth. We prepare our food, and maintain our forges
and furnaces, and the power of our steam-engines, with the
remains of plants of ancient forms and extinct species, which
were swept from the earth ere the formation of the transi-
tion strata was completed. Our instruments of cutlery, the
tools of our mechanics, and the countless machines which
we construct by the infinitely varied application of iron, are
derived from ore for the most part coeval with, or more
ancient than, the fuel, by the aid of which we reduce it to
its metallic state, and apply it to innumerable uses in the
economy of human life. Thus, from the wreck of forests
that waved upon the surface of the primeval lands, and
from ferruginous mud that was lodged at the bottom of the
primeval water, we derive our chief supphes of coal and
lron—those two fundamental elements of art and industry,
which contribute more than any other mineral production
of the earth, to increase the riches, and multiply the com-
forts and ameliorate the condition of mankind.—D7s. Buck-
land’s Bridgewater Treatise.
*,* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at
59, Lincoln’s Inn Fields,
LONDON: CHARLES KNIGHT & CO., 22, LUDGATE STREET.
Printed by Wittram Crowes and Sons, Stamford Street,
Monthly Supplenreint of
THE PENNY MAGAZINE
OF THE
Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge.
dol.
April 30 to Nay 31, 1837.
THE HIGHLANDS OF SCOTLAND.
{ Concluded from No, 326.]
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[View of Loch Katrine—Pass of the Trosachs.]
THE country at the head of the deep inlet of the sea, | districts, rocky, savage, and picturesque towards the
called Kyle Skou, is romantic as well as wild; and the
parish of Edderachyllis, through which the road con-
tinues to the northward, is reputed to be one of the
most rugged districts in Scotland. After passing the
head of Loch Inchard, the road quits the coast, and
turns somewhat eastward to Durness. Thence an ex-
cursion may be made to Cape Wrath, about ten miles
distant,—the north-western point of the island, which,
“with its stupendous granitic front, its extensive and
splendid ocean scenery, and the peculiarly wild cha-
racter of the country: by which it is approached, is
invested with an interest which few promontories on
the British coast can equal*.” A short distance from
Durness, to the north-east, is the cave of Smoo, on the
mountain limestone, a singular cavern, in three com-
partments, of great extent and much beauty: it con-
tains a subterranean water-fall of considerable height.
Sull farther east is the pleasant village and bay of
Tongue. .
The interior of Sutherland is a series of mouutain
* Anderson, p. 591,
Vou. VI.
west coast; lumpy and uninteresting towards the east.
It is bare of wood, and very thinly inhabited, but abounds
in noble lakes and rich pastoral valleys. The principal
lakes, besides Loch Assynt, are Loch Shin, Loch Naver,
and Loch Hope. The scenery of Loch Hope is highly
praised. Roads have been but recently constructed
through this country. The coast-side, including Dun-
robin Castle, rivals a more southern climate.
Caithness consists of two characters; that portion of
it which adjoins Sutherland is mountainous, and the
language of the people Gaelic ; the northern and eastern
portions may be described as a broad undulating plain,
devoid of trees, and covered with stunted heath; but
capable of great improvement, which is advancing with
rapid strides. Such a country can offer no temptations
to the tourist, except in respect of coast scenery, which
is here very grand. Close to Duncansby Head—the
locality of John o’Groat’s house,—is the little inn of
Houna; from which one of the roads to Thurso, eighteen
miles distant, proceeds along the coast of the Pentland
Frith. ‘The views which are obtained in different
2D
202
parts of it, of the Orkney Islands, the Pentland streams,
and the projecting points of the mainland of Caithness,
are so grand and varied, that no one who can cominand
his time should quit the country without seeing them *.”
Returning now from the wild regions of the north,
we have still one road leading from the great glen to
the western coast to notice; that which passes along
the banks of Loch Eil, from Fort William to Arisaig.
The whole of this is beautiful, and most especially
the latter portion, from Kinloch Aylort to Arisaig. In
Glenfinnan, at the head of Loch Shiel, a small tower
will be observed, which marks the spot where the
Chevalier St. George first raised his standard in 1745.
From Kinloch Aylort a bridle-road leads to Kinloch
Moidart, distant eleven or twelve miles, where the par-
liamentary road from Coran Ferry on Loch Eil, by
Sunart, terminates. There are: inns at Salin and
Sunart, both on Loch Sunart, and again at Coran
Ferry, which is about thirty miles from Kinloch Moi-
dart. This circuit is seldom made, but it abounds in
beauty, and may be especially recommended to those
who have visited Fort William on their way from the
north, and do not wish to return thither; mm which
case, after crossing the ferry, they will either proceed
from Ballachulish by Glen Coe and Tyndrum, through
the interior, or follow the eoast road through Appin.
Between Loch Eil and Glen Garry, ten or eleven |
niles from Fort William, Loch Arkeg occupies a beau-
tiful valley on the north side of Loch Lochy, from
which it is separated by a tract of land about two
miles long. ‘This is divided into two romantic passes
by an insulated, wooded, and rocky hill; in the western
‘pass stands Achnacarry, the patrimonial seat of the
chief of the clan Cameron. Loch Arkeg is fourteen
or fifteen miles lone, and throws itself, in two or three
sweeps, info a group of varied and bold mountains.
Softness and beauty characterise the lower part. from
its head a number of glens diverge towards the western
coast, and towards Glen Garry ; these, no doubt, would
well repay examination.
the regular steam-boat track, it is seldom visited and
little known; though an excursion even to its foot, re-
turning by a rough pathway over the woody hill already
mentioned, which commands a magnificent view, would
repay a day’s delay: the head of it might be reached
from Glen Finnan. ‘To those who intend visiting this
country, or Arisaig, Rhodes’s Inn, close to the series of
locks on the Caledonian Canal, called Neptune’s Stair-
case, two miles from Fort William, is the most convenient
location. There is, I believe, a public-house on the
canal-bank, near the foot of Loch Lochy, which would
suit still better the walker, who proposes to explore the
distant solitudes at the head of Loch Arkeg.
About three hours is sufficient for the ascent of Ben
Nevis, on foot, from Fort William. Making a circuit
by Inverlochy Castle, horses may be taken rather
beyond a small lake, better than one-third of thie
height. ‘The rest of the way, nearly to the top, is
very laborious. On the west the mountain descends
abruptly into Glen Nevis, which rivals Glen Coe or Glen
Dee. By following a lateral valley some miles up the
olen, Loch Leven (see p. 204) may be reached in three
or four hours.’
Glen Roy should be visited rather for its parallel
roads, celebrated in controversy, than for its beauty; it
is, however, a fine, wild, bare glen. It is best taken
from the Bridge of Roy Inn, ten or eleven miles from
Fort William, on the Loch Laggan road: or might be
traversed, for a good part of its length, in a longish
day’s walk from Invergarry to Bridge of Roy, striking
directly south across the hills from somewhere near
Letterfinlay, on the bank of Loch Lochy. Nothing
is lost -by quitting the high road between Letterfinlay
aud Fort William. Sinclair’s Inn, at the head of Loch
* Anderson, p. 021,
MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF
Ip.
[May 31,
Laggan, the next house of entertainment to the east, |
is twenty-five miles further; thence it is an easy stage
to Pitmain or Dalwhinnie. A forenoon will be sufficient
for Glen Roy, except for those who wish to examine its
geological phenomena minutely. Loch Treig, a sweet,
lonely sheet of water lying high in the hills south
of the Spean, is worth a visit; and a fine day would
be well bestowed in making a circuit this way to Fort
William ; ascending Glen Treig from the head of the
Jake, and crossing the hill into Glen Nevis. ‘This must
be reckoned on as a long day, not less than thirty miles
of hill-walking. A guide would generally be advisable.
From Fort William, the old military road crosses
the mountains to Kinlochmore, as the head of Loch
Leven is called. ‘There is here a curious fall on the
Serpent River. The road proceeds towards King’s
House, over the chain of hills on the north side of Glen
Coe, by a series of zigzags called the Devil's Staircase.
It has long been left to decay, and used only by the
drovers; but is still passable (or was so five years ago)
for horses. ‘The coast road however is preferable, for
the sake of the magnificent approach to Ballachulish ;
and Glen Coe is best seen by approaching it from that
quarter. Loch Leven should be followed to the head,
either by land or water. Dr. Macculloch justly charac-
terises it as a succession of landscapes throughout.
Kighteen miles of barren moor, extending eastward
eighteen or twenty miles, without a tree or a moun-
tain, he between King’s House and Tyndrum, and
form about the dreariest stage in Scotland. At Tyu-
/drum the road divides, one branch leading west to
Dalmally and Inverary, the other east to Loch Tay
and Loch Lomond. Hither way the first few miles
are dull. ‘The approach to Dalmally and Loch Awe*
‘is rich and beautiful.
A better plan would be, to devote one day to an
excursion from Ballachulish up Glen Coe, thence by the
old road to Kinlochmore, returning to Ballachulish
along the north side of the loch; and then to follow
Situated within two miles of |
| Loch Creran and Loch Etive.
mingled sea and land views of varied and lovely cha-
the coast road through Appin, crossing the ferries of
This route abounds in
racter. After crossing Loch Etive, the road on ‘the
west leads to Oban, the great steam-boat rendezvous
on the western coast, distant six miles; and that on
the east to Dalmally, distant eighteen miles, by Tyanuilt,
along the base of Ben Cruachan.
About a mile to the north-east of Tyanuilt, and not
on the main road, the river Awe is crossed by a ferry,
near which stands the public-house of Bunawe. From
hence, or from Tyanuilt, Ben Cruachan, one of the
grandest and vastest of the Scottish mountains, may be
conveniently visited; the ascent is not difficult, and will
hardly occupy three hours. ‘The view from the top
possesses a peculiar interest, from the complicated in-
termixture of sea and land. The upper part of Loch
Etive 1s distinguished by the simplicity and magnitude
of its features: and Glen Etive, which runs from the
head of the lake nearly to King’s House, eleven or
twelve miles distant, may almost rival the stern majesty
of its neighbour, Glen Coe. From Bunawe to the head
of the lake, ten miles in direct distance, there is a foot-
path on the south side of the loch, as rough and blind
as any to be found in Scotland, and full of beauty and
interest. I believe there is a better road on the north
side ; which must command a good view of Cruachan,
but 1s probably inferior in other respects. They call
the distance from King’s House to Bunawe about
twenty-five miles; and as the road is a bad one to be
benighted on, it will be well to allow nine hours of
daylight for it.
Between Loch Etive and Glenorchy there lies a large
desert tract of hills, seldom or never visited by the tra-
* See Distant View of Loch Awe in last Supplement, No. 326,
165. :
1837.)
veller, bounded on the west by the short valley of the
Awe, and on the east by the comparatively level moor
which extends from King’s House to Tyndrum. This
is entirely occupied by Ben Cruachan and his dependent
mountains. No doubt an excursion or two among
them, from ‘T'yanuilt or Dalmally, would amply repay
the lover of mountain walks.
From Tyanuilt to Dalmally the road runs at the foot
of the vast mass of Cruachan.
Loch Awe that the issue of its waters is not at either
end, but in the side of the Jake, in a deep narrow bay,
which gradually contracts into a river.
of Crnachan, richly feathered with copsewood, descend
precipitously into the water, and form a scene hardly to
be surpassed in its kind. ‘This spot, which was the
scene of one of Bruce’s victories over the Lord of Lorn,
is called the Pass of Awe. Kilchurn Castle, situated
on a low promontory stretching far into the lake, is a
fine object, and will be seen with the more pleasure, :
because ruins of any magnitude are rare in the High-
lands. Emerging from the pass, the road sweeps round
the end of Loch Awe, through a rich and open valley, |
to Dalmally.
After following the southern bank of the lake for six
miles, as far as Port Sonachan, where a more direct
road from Tyannilt’ crosses Loch Awe by a ferry, the
road turns southwards, and traversing’ a low chain of
hills, descends Glen Aray to the town of Inverary.
Here the Duke of Argyle’s castle and park are the
chief objects of attraction.
pretty though small waterfalls, and magnificent timber.
The woody hill called Duniquoich, the end of the ridge
which separates Glen Aray from Glen Shira, commands
a noble view. We are now in the centre of steam navi-
gation, and may choose four or five ways, by land, by
water, or by both combined, of proceeding to Glasgow.
We shall follow the old military road round the head of
Loch Fyne.
Cairndow, a good inn at the head of the lake, is ten
miles from Imverary. Here we ascend Glen Kinglass,
to cross the mountains between Loch Fyne and Loch
Long; and after traversing a short depression in the
monntains, reach the summit of the hill called ‘ Rest
and be thankful,’ from a stone bearing that inscription,
erected by the regiment which formed the road in 1748,
and commence the descent into the celebrated valley of
Glen Coe. This, from the accident of its being traversed
by one of the most frequented roads in the Highlands,
has obtained a fame second only to that of Glen Coe,
which it much resembles; the mountains are jagged
and fantastic in their outline, but the aspect of the
whole is less severe and sublime. From Arroquhar
the singular mountain called the Cobbler, between
Loch Long and Loch Lomond, may be ascended; it
is crowned by rocks of difficult access, which few com-
paratively possess nerve to climb. ‘The inn of Arro-
quhar, at the head of Loch Long, is fourteen miles
from Cairndow, and one and a half from ‘Tarbet, on
Loch Lomond.
The district of which Loch Lomond is the centre, from
Inverary on the one side to Callender on the other, is
certainly one of the most lovely parts of Scotland; it
will however require the less detail, as it is one of the
best known, and the most accessible. Ben Lomond
may be conveniently ascended either from Tarbet on
the west, or Rowardennan on the east side of the lake ;
at both of which inns good accommodation may be had.
The excursion will not occupy more than five or six
hours ; the ascent is easy, and the lowland view very
exteusive and striking. The visiter should not be con-
tent with viewing Loch Lomond, especially the upper
part of it, from the steam-boat; and, in preference to
the most frequented route to Loch Katrine, by Inver-
sneyd, should follow the longer circuit by Glen Falloch, |
round the head of Loch Lomond, descending Glen |
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
It is a peculiarity of
Were the roots |
The grounds contain some -
203
Gyle, and following the north bank of Loch Katrine,
in preference to taking a boat to the Trosachs. It will
be worth while to ascend Glen Falloch, down which the
views are of the finest description, as high as may be con-
venient; and this valley is accessible to all persons, since
the carriage-road is continued northward to Crienla-
rich, in Glen Dochart, on the Stirling and Fort William
road, distant sixteen miles from Tarbet, and three and
a half from Tyndrum.
Loch Katrine forms one of those rare cases in which
the lower end of a lake is characterized by grander fea-
tures than the upper; it is therefore seen to the best
advantage in proceeding from the western towards the
eastern end. The short route from Loch Lomond
across the hill by Inyversneyd possesses little beauty,
after the first ascent is surmounted; but from that
ascent the view over Loch Lomond is lovely. <A third
route may be followed on foot, from Rowardennan,
across the southern flank of Ben Lomond to the beau-
tiful and sequestered Loch Ard, a distance of three or
four hours. ‘Two miles abeve Loch Ard, at the eastern
foot of Ben Lomond, lies another small sheet of water,
Loch Chen. A wild mountain walk of some two hours
leads from Loch Ard to the Trosachs; the river Teith
is to be crossed by a bridge between the foot of Ben
Venne and Loch Achray. ‘This route, if the day be
fine, may be advantageonsly combined with the ascent
of Ben Lomond, either from Rowardennan or Tarbet.
The road from Loch Katrine to Callender (10 miles)
skirts Loch Achray and Loch Venachar. From Cal-
lender to Stirling (16 miles) extends a fertile wooded
valley, fanked by undulating hills, and closed to the
northwest by a noble monntain skreen, in which Ben
Lomond, Ben Venue, Ben More, and Ben Ledi, are the
prominent points. The view from Stirling Castle, com-
bining in one immense panorama the lofty outline of
the Grampians, the windines of the Forth, and a vast
tract of the richest country in Scotland, extending to
the Corstorphine and Pentland hills, is unique.
About two miles, or less, from Callender, the small
but romantic falls of the Keltie, at Bracklin Brigg,
deserve a visit. Soon after passing through this village
the main road from Stirling to Fort William enters the
Highlands by the Pass of Lenie; a deep ravine, richly
clothed with oak-copse, with a rushing torrent in the
bottom, and overshadowed by the lofty summit of Ben
Ledi. ‘There is no pass which forms a finer or more
appropriate gate to the Highlands than this. Soon
after emerging from it we reach Loch Lubnaig, three
miles from Callender, a narrow gloomy sheet of water
about five miles long. Proceeding towards Loch Earn
Head, we pass on the west the opening of the vale of
Balquhidder, in which He the quiet waters of Loch Voil
and Loch Doine. A pleasant walk of six or seven
hours leads direct from Loch Achray to Loch Earn
Head by Strath@artney and Balquhidder. This route
may be varied asit 1s wished to see more or less of
Balquhidder; the most easterly route, by Glen Cashaig,
is the shortest and highest, and is said to command
a mountain view of uncommon magnificence.
‘There is a very comfortable inn at Loch Earn Head,
from which Ben Voirlich is to be ascended, chiefly for
the sake of its magnificent lowland view, extending
beyond Edinburgh to the Pentland Hills. The tra-
veller from the north may either continue his route
down the other side of the monntain direct to Callen-
der, or desire the guide to take him round the northern
shoulder of the neighbouring and rival point called
Stuch-a-Chroan, or some such name; in which case
he will reach Loch Lubnai® close (if I recollect right)
to the farm-house of Ardchullary, where Bruce wrote
his Travels in Abyssinia. This will lengthen the route
to Callender considerably; but it enables the pedestrian
to see Ben Voirlich aud the pass of Lenie in the same
day. Between Loch Harn Head and ~, of the
204
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MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF
[May 31,
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[ View of Loch Leven. ]
mountain lie the Castle and Falls of Edinample, close
to the road: alittle beyond them the ascent begins. It
is not steep, but laborious, and in some places rather
soft, and will occupy about two hours from quitting
the road.
Strathearn does not possess the boldest features of the
Highlands, but in softness and variety it has few rivals.
The lake is straight, and about seven miles long; and
may be followed on either side. The southern road is
superior in beauty, but less fitted for carriages than
the northern. From the end of the lake to Comrie,
where there is a small but very comfortable inn (five
miles and a half), is, perhaps, the most lovely part of
this valley; but the whole, down to Crieff, is beautiful.
The woods and grounds of Ochtertyre, and the splendid
scenery of Drummond Castle, including Glen Turrit,
deserve, a visit. One of the main approaches to the
Highlands leads from Crieff, either to Aberfeldy or
Dunkeld, through Glen Almond, the reputed burial-
place of the poet Ossian”, a bold and barren glen, well
calculated to impress a visiter from the south; the rest
of the line, until we descend into the valley of the Tay,
ig dreary and dull.
Going northward from Loch Earn Head, the ascent
through Glen Ogle is very grand. To Killin, eight
miles; to Luib, ten-and-a-half.
Returning now to 'Tyndrum, we shall complete the
circuit of the Highlands by following the Tay nearly
from its source to Dunkeld. Soon after quitting 'Tyn-
drum the road descends into Gien, Dochart, as the
upper part of the valley of the Tay is called. For some
miles the magnificent acclivity of Ben More, with Loch
Dochart at its foot, is the only object of interest; but
after passing Luib (twelve miles from Tyndrum and
eight from Killin) the country improves, and becomes
very beautiful as we approach Killin. The view from
the bridge which crosses the Dochart at the island
called Macnab’s burying-ground, with Ben Lawers in
the distance, will especially attract notice.
Killin affords excellent quarters. A day should be
given to the ascent of Ben Lawers, which lies, at some
* See Wordsworth’s poem, entitled ‘Glen Almain,’ or the
Narrow Glen,
«In this still place, remote from men,
‘Sleeps Ossian, in the Narrow Glen,” &c,
distance, on the north side of Loch Tay. The falls ot
the Lochy, three miles to the north, in Glen Lochy, are
worth a visit; they are small individually, but being
erouped together, and seen at once, present a very pic-
turesque landscape. About a mile, or less, further on,
a good view is obtained of the upper part of the valley.
In proceeding to Kenmore, the south side of Loch Tay
is to be preferred; it is the better wooded, commands
finer views of Ben Lawers, and gives the opportunity
of visiting the falls of Acharn, about two miles from
Kenmore and half a mile off the road, From Killin
to Kenmore is sixteen miles,
The grounds of 'Taymouth Castle are well wooded,
and contain many interesting walks and fine points of
view. ‘They may be traversed in going eastward from
Kenmore, either towards Aberfeldy, or to Bridge of
Tumel. In the latter case, we cross the river Lyon by
the ferry-boat at Comrie, and meet the old military
road from Crieff to Inverness, by Glen Almond, Aber-
feldy, and Dalnacardoch. Near the inn of Cushiville
it turns off from Fortingal, as this lower part of Glen
Lyon is called, and crossing a high tract of moor, with
the conical peak of Schehallien rising’ prominently
out of the table-land to the west, descends to Bridge of
Tumel, where there is a tolerable house of entertain-
ment, distant from Aberfeldy or Kenmore about fifteen
miles. At the top of the pass a road strikes to the
west, along the side of Schehallien, to Kinloch Ran-
noch, where there is another small inn, distant from
Tumel Bridge seven miles. Neither Loch Rannoch
nor the glen, until we reach Loch Jumel, are of first-
rate character. As we proceed down the Jatter the
scenery improves, and the views back towards Schehal-
lien become very lovely. Loch Tumel is about three
miles long, and it is four or more from the Jower end
of it to Bridge of Garry ;—the intermediate space is not
to be exceeded in all Scotland in point of romantic
beauty. Schehallien may be ascended in about two
hours and a half from Bridge of Tumel: the view
from it is not first-rate. From Bridge of Tumel to
Blair, by Killicrankie, is fourteen or fifteen miles; to
Dalnacardoch, ten, of dull moorland road.
From Kenmore to Dunkeld (twenty-three miles) the
road follows the rich and fertile vale of Tay. There is
a halting-place at Aberfeldy (six miles), and another at
1837.
the Grandtully Arms, seven miles farther. At the
former, every one will stop to see the Falls of Moness,
distant about a mile and a half. The stream is small,
and the ravine through which it descends so narrow,
that the trees with which its opposite sides are clothed
almost mingle their branches. Elegance and beauty
characterize the scene rather than sublimity; but these
falls yield in interest to none in Scotland, except the
Fall of Foyers, and Corra Linn on the Clyde. ‘The
hills which bound this portion of Strath Tay are low ;
and it will perhaps be viewed with more pleasure by
one returning from the ruggedness and desolation of
the Northern Highlands, than by the visiter from the
south, whose imagination is fixed upon the sublimest
features of a mountainous region. In place of these,
we have here cultivation and beauty; and the powerful
bright amber stream of the Tay itself, the first river of
Scotland in respect of volume, is an object on which the
eye never fails to rest with pleasure. As we approach
Dunkeld, the projecting heights of Craig-y-Barns and
Craig Vinean add new grandeur to the scene, and warn
us of the beauties we approach.
We have now given such an account of the pic-
turesque features of the Highlands as our limits allow,
and believe that few objects of leading interest have
been passed wholly unnoticed. We conclude with a few
short notices of the Western Islands, which now form
an accessible and attractive portion of a Scottish tour.
The principal of these in extent and importance is
Skye. There is a ferry from Arisaig to the coast of
Sleat, in that island; butas the distance is considerable,
and the transit inconvenient, the ferries across the nar-
row straits of Kyle Hakin and Kyle Rhea, on the Loch
Carron and Glen Moriston roads, are more frequented.
But since the establishment of steam-boats, which
during the summer season visit Broadford and Portree
from Oban at least once a week, a large proportion of
visiters from the south adopt that method of convey-
ance; and there are few things more beautiful than
the sail through the Sound of Sleat and Loch Alsh,
between Sky and the mainland. The general cha-
racter of the northern and southern parts of this island
is that of undulating dull moor-land. But across the
centre there runs a magnificent line of mountains,
which stretch in two groups, divided by the deep and
wild glen of Sligachan, from Loch Scavig, on the south-
west, to Scalpa Sound, on the north-east coast. The
sincularly steril and spiry mountains to the west of
Glen Sligachan are the celebrated Cuchullins, at the
southern base of which, within 300 yards of the sea,
lies the lake of Coruisk, well known to visiters of the
Water-colour Exhibition as a favourite subject of Rob-
son, who employed his deepest blues in representing
the gloomy grandeur of this singular place. On this
side the mountains appear to be absolutely inaccessible ;
from the northern side their summits may be reached
with little difficulty. Even one who is accustomed to
the deceptions of mountain scenery will be astonished,
on reaching them, at the gigantic size of the rocky
pinnacles which crown these heights. There is a pub-
lic-house at the head of Loch Sligachan, from which
this ascent may be performed. From the same place
Coruisk may be visited; it is a three hours’ walk over
rough mountain, impracticable for horses. But the
more usual way with those who visit Coruisk is to
cross from Broadford to Loch Slapin, visit the cave of
Strathaird, celebrated for the beauty of its stalactites,
and proceed by sea to Loch Scavie, either returning the
same way, or re-crossing the island through Glen Sli-
gachan, which rivals, if it does not surpass, Glen Coe |
itself, in the height and ruggedness of its mountain
boundaries. The hills of the other cluster, which ex-
tends along the north coast from Seonser almost to
Broadford, are composed of softer features, and are less
lofty than the Cuchullins ; they are chiefly remarkable |
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
205
for their uniformly conical forms and naked summits,
and from their colour have gained the name of the
Red Hills. Portree, the chief town of the island, is
situated in a pretty bay, and has a very good inn. ‘The
Storr, which is visible from about Portree, and the pro-
montory of Ru-na-braddan, about five miles farther,
offer the grandest specimens of basaltic and marine
scenery. Another spot may be mentioned, called Qui-
rang, farther to the north, which, according to local
information, presents still more curious features.
Oban is the great meeting-place and point of de-
parture of steam-boats on the western coast. Here
those which run from Glasgow to Inverness meet those
which go to Staffa and to Skye. - The Skye boats run at
least once a week; the Staffa boats two or three times,
making a complete circuit of Mull. They usually
start about mid-day, and stop for the night at Tober-
mory, a village and port at the northern end of the
Sound of Mull, visiting Staffa, Iona, and returning to
Mull the following day. Or the traveller may cross
from QOban to the island of Kerrera, and thence take
the ferry-boat to Achnacraig, in Mull, proceeding by
Duart and Aros to Ulva, (twenty-seven miles from
Achnacraig) where a sailing-boat may be had to Staffa.
The features of that island are too well known to need
description.
The smaller islands of Rum and Eigg are chiefly
interesting to the geologist ; they are best visited from
Arisaig, or Armadale, in Skye. The celebrated Scuir
of Kige, however, will repay the unscientific for a visit.
It is an enormous trap vein or dyke, which forms an
irrerular wall extending upwards of a mile in length.
The top is tolerably level, and may be taken at 300
feet in breadth, while the height approaches to 500.
The sides are nearly perpendicular.
The outer Hebrides, or Long Island, offer little to
attract the tourist. There are packets from Dunvegan
In Skye to North and Sonth Uist and Harris, ‘and from
Pollewe to Stornaway in the Lewis.
Returning to the south, the soft and fertile island of
Islay is chiefly remarkable for its numerous antiquities,
having been a principal seat of the powerful Lords of
the Isles: it is connected with Loch Tarbert in Cantyre
by a regular steam-packet. The neighbouring island
of Jura is rugged and barren; but the chain of moun-
tains called the Paps of Jura render it an object of
Interest in the distant view. ‘There is a ferry between
it and Keils, near the entrance of Loch Swin, on the
coast of Knapdale.
Arran, however, is the queen of the Scottish islands.
Its sharp granitic peaks resemble in character, and rival
In elevation and wildness, the Cuchullin hills, while
there is a softness and richness in Brodick Bay and the
neighbourhood, to which the colder island of the north
can lay noclaim. ‘To those whose motions are limited,
a visit to Arran is especially to be recommended; it con-
tains an abridgment of the Highlands. Glen Sannox
and Glen Rosa almost rival Glen Coe or Sligachan ;
and the ascent of Goatfield presents mountain scenery
which is rarely surpassed. This, from Brodick, will
occupy from two to three hours; and the route may be
varied, at the expense of a good long walk, by descend-
ing into Glen Sannox, on the north side of the mountain,
and returning by the coast. ‘he alpine district lies to
the north of Brodick, and the whole coast, from Glen
Sannox to Loch Ransa, is very bold. ‘To the geologist,
Arran abounds in objects of interest. The Ailsa Rock,
an abrupt basaltie island, which rises 1100 feet above
the sea, presents a remarkably fine and imposing
specimen of the columnar structure. Boats may be
obtained to visit it from Lamlash or Brodick, in Arran,
or from the coast of Ayrshire, but it is only in calm
weather that a landing can be effected.
Here ends our account of this beautiful and in-
206
teresting region. It has been our object rather to
stimulate than to satisfy curiosity, and we have left
minute information to be gathered from more elaborate
guides, or from local information. Dr. Macculloch’s
much abused ‘ Letters on the Highlands and Islands’
contain a fuller and more interesting account of them:
than any other book which we have seen; but they are |
For that.
is well.
adapted by its minuteness, accuracy, and total freedom
too voluminous for a travelling companion.
office Anderson’s ‘ Guide to “the Highlands °
from affectation and bombast.
No apprehension need be entertained by the traveller.
of any serious inconvenience arising from his ignorance
of the Gaelic language.
mote houses of entertainment he will be sure to meet
with somebody able to understand his wants; and even
among the peasantry there are now few, who cannot,
though their stock of English may be small, comprehend
and reply toasimple question. To this the great influx
of English, both as travellers and residents, has no deubt
oreatly conduced ; since the number of persons who are
profitably occupied, more or less permanently, as g-aine-
keepers, boatmen, guides, attendants on the inns, &c.,
is very considerable, and both old and youns now see
a definite and weighty reason for learning the language,
which is almost indispensable as a qnalification for
these employments. This influx of -Enelish is the
growth of the last thirty or forty years. Fifty years
avo the want of roads and of inns deterred those who
travelled for pleasure from coming hither; one hundred
years ago the same objections “existed in a stronger
degree, and the troubled state of the country rendered
tr avelling unsafe in other respects. Indeed the taste
for the wilder beauties of nature does not ascend to so
remote a date; and as, in the first half of the eighteenth
century, no one would have thought of going into the
Highlands to see lakes and mountains, and there was
little or no inducement of trade or profit, they remained
unvisited and unknown to all except their own inhabit-
ants, who presented the singular spectacle of a detached
people, forming part of a highly civilised, rich, and
luxurious kingdom, and yet retaining the habits, opi-
nions, dress, and patriarchal oovernment of the most
ancient times, It was no wonder that such a people
should excite great interest when once their fast-
nesses were opened up to public view; and the great
rebellion of 1745 had at least this good effect, that it
prepared the way for a rapid amalgamation of the
Highlands with the rest of the empire. ‘The severe
measures employed to break the power of the chiefs,
and to destroy the national spirit of the people,—the for-
feitures and banishments, the abolition of heritable
jurisdictions, the disarming act, the proscription of the
national dress,—were effective in putting an end to the
violences, both of internal feuds and of ag oressions
and robberies in the lowlands, which had prevailed up
to the rebellion, and in subjecting that portion of the
empire to the authority of law; a power which in former
times seldom found entrance within the Highland line,
except when supported by a strong armed force, and
then for the most part had more to do with vengeance |
| perty *,”
than with justice.
These changes led to another, and. most important
{than a population of indigent cottars, with next to no
one.
With the final overthrow of the Jacobite party, and
the compulsory maintenance of tranquillity, ceased the
utility of keeping up that large number of, hardy fol-
lowers which in former times had constituted the pride,
consequence, and safety, of a leading family. A High--
land chief's dependants paid little for the land they cul-
tivated, except in occasional labour, and in service in war.
With the downfall of the landowner’ s political and patri-
archal importance, arose the necessity of maintaining his
consequence and position in society by the increase of}
his rentals: and it was no great while after the rebel-
MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF
| Llebrides.’
At the poorest and “most Ne- |
[May 31,
lion that the rents demanded for land began to rise in
an cnormous proportion. ‘This led to emieration, which,
about 1770, had already prevailed to a contiderablté ex-
tent, as we learn from Dr. Johnson’s *‘ Tour to the
And the process of depopulation proceeded
with much greater rapidity when it was found that a
tract of land devoted to. sheep-farming would produce
a much larger rental than when broken up into a
number of small holdings. This change has made soli-
tudes of many gens which formerly supported an honest,
brave, and affectionate people, and nursed those hardy
troops who, in America, and in the continental wars, have
made the name of Highlander famous throughout the
world, since Lord Chatham first conceived the scheme of
furning their best qualities to account in the service of
their country. But the change was a result of the
natural and inevitable progress of civilization; and
although the transition must have been a state of suf-
fering to a people possessing such strong local attach-
ment as the Highlanders, there can be no doubt that
the general condition of the Highland population has
been greatly advanced, wherever the ancient mode of
occupying the Jand by miserable cottars without capital
has been superseded. Where the ancient system still
prevails, there is still great misery. But in looking at
this question we are naturally attracted by the romance
which is incident to it. Not only the imagination, but
many of our best sympathies are enlisted on the side of
the Highland peasantry: at the same time it is to be
remembered that the peculiarities which enlist those
sympathies in their favour were better suited to great
emergencies than to the common duties of peaceful and
civilised life. ‘The saine qualities which rendered the first
regiments levied in the Highlands superior, perhaps, to
auy troops of modern times, looking’ not only to their
bravery, but to their bodily vigour, endurance of fatigue,
hunger, and the ‘inclemency. of the skies, their steady
conduct, and high personal sense of honour, if not so
employed in the service of their country would proba-
bly only have increased the race of Rob Roys, John
Gunns, and other noted freebooters, in whom much evil
is veiled, on a distant view, by a few brilliant qualities,
but who are pests of society to those who come
within the sphere of their action. The continued ex-
istence of the Highlanders, such as we see them in the
pages, not only of romance but of history, was incom-
patible with a settled government, and the due ad-
ministration and full authority of law. It is said, on
no unfriendly testimony, that there was ‘an excessive
population, which had outgrown its means of sub-
sistence, and totally regardless of the industrious and
peaceable occupations of civilised life, was always ready
for desperate enterprises; and the chiefs were obliged,
if not to encourage, at least to connive at such, to
prevent their retainers from quarrelling among them-
selves. Hence our venerable friend Mr. Grant, of Cor-
rymony, in Glen Urquhart, used to relate that his father,
when speaking about the rebellion of 1745, always in-
sisted that a ristrg in the Highlands was absolutely
necessary to give employment to the numerous bands
of lawless and idle young men who infested every pro-
And it is unquestionable that no greater
obstacle can exist to the improvement of any country
employment or resource, except the cultivation of their
own crofts, which they have neither capital nor skill
to do to eood advantage, and who by their own increase
are treading continually on the verge of destitution and
famine. ‘
Formerly cattle were the chief produce and export of
the Highlands; of late they have in a great measure
given way to sheep, which have been found more pro-
fitable. And this change has contributed inuch to the
gradual depopulation of the interior of the country ;
* Anderson, ps 42
1837.]
inasmuch as a given tract of land depastured by cattle
requires the attendance of more hands than the same
tract depastured by sheep; the country at Jarge, how-
ever, has increased in population. The islands and the
west coast now furnish the greater quantity of cattle sent
to the south, and also export many ponies, among which
those of Skye are particularly esteemed. Fishing, dis-
tilling, and the manufacture of kelp, are the chief em-
ployments, besides agriculture, open to the population.
The fishery. for cod, ling, &c., is extensively pursued
on the north coast and at the Orkney islands, as
well as that for herring and for salmon.
vessels are used by the London fishmongers to bring
cod alive from the Orkneys to. London. The total
value of the exports was thus stated by Anderson
in 1834 :—
Sheep and wool, about . . . £250,000
Black caittlomas fs -4i- et e -250,000
Herrings ® é @ e ° ° ° 200,000
Ceo i an 100,000
Salmon, kelp, wood, pork, &c. .- 100,000
Whiskey ae be xy 200,000
£ 1,100,000
During the last war the manufacture of kelp, a
coarse alkali extracted from sea-weed, and used chiefly
for the manufacture of glass, was carried on to an im-
mense extent; in some instances the annual value of
estates is said to have been donbled by that new source
of revenue. The price of kelp at one time exceeded
201. per ton, the present cost of making it is estimated
at 3/. or 4/. per ton; so that allowing for the higher
price of labour, &c., during the war, and allowing also
a handsome profit to all intermediate hands, the reve-
nue derived by the landowners mnst have been im-
mense. The estate of Clanranald, situated on the
western coast and in the Hebrides, is said in some
years to have produced 1500 tons of kelp. But the
admission of foreign barilla, which is a better article,
and the use of common salt in makine glass, and
still more the use of British alkali, havee greatly
checked the manufacture, and cut off one source
of profitable employment from numbers of persons.
And in proportion as less wages can be earned, the
peasantry of course become less able to buy the com-
modities of others, and more dependant on the produce |
of their own ill cultivated lands; so that a general
failure of crops, which an inclement season may at any
time produce, involves the whole country at once in
distress, often amounting even to famine. The High-
landers are a patient race, inured by daily habit to what
a south conntry labourer would think intolerable pri-
vation, and seldom driven by want into complaint or |
violence. At present a crisis of unnsual severity is
pressing on them ; thousands of families cannot com-
mand more than a few weeks’, or perhaps days’, sub-
sistence; and in many cases even the hope of tlie
future has been destroyed, by consuming what should
have been reserved for seed, in the relief of more 1m-
mediate wants. Jn this distress the assistance of their
wealthier countrymen has been asked for the first time,
and should be ungrudgingly bestowed. Subscriptions
have been opened, and a considerable sum already has
been raised; large, but not sufficient for the benevolent
purpose it is meant to fulfil, We may be excused,
therefore, for taking this opportunity of reminding our
readers that the pence and shillings of the many will
go as far or farther than the pounds of the few; and
where there is a disposition to subscribe, there will not
be wanting some person willing to be at the trouble of
collecting and forwarding the money to those who .are
appoiuted to receive and use it.
We add a table of the stages and distances on the
principal roads through the Highlands ; it will be easy
from it to construct such a tour as the time and views
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
Welled |}
207
of each individual may render advisable. Last, we
give a pedestrian route, intended to embrace as much
as possible of the wilder districts, in which the time
which each days journey may be ‘expected to take
is given, as well as the computed distance. As this
element is given either from recollection or imperfect
notes, we must bespeak induleence for the errors which
16 may contain. We have calculated at the rate of
three miles an hour, stoppages included, for tolerably
good ground, and allowed extra time in proportion to
difficulties.
Miles.
GLascow TO INVERNESS.
Dumbarton .‘ , : : . ~ werd 14
! Luss e e @ | FF ° ° : 8 122 261
Tarbet ° , oe a . i 2 F 34g
To Crienlarich, 16; Tyndrum, 33 = 191 miles,
Arroquhar ° ‘ ° 4 a 1S 36
Cairndow ° . ° - ‘ ° A 14 ~=60
Inverary . ° ° ° ° ° : - 10 ~~ 60
i To Tyanuilt, by Port Sonachan, 21 miles.
Dalmally J ; . , : 7 ~ 16 76
} To Tyndrum, 11 miles.
Tyanuilt e e @ e e € wi . 12 88
Connel Ferry . » ° e ° ° ° 6 94
To Oban, 6 miles.
Shian Ferry . ; , ' , : . 5 99
Portnacrosk . : ° ‘ 4 ° ‘ 5 104
Ballachulish , - é ‘ ” ‘ . le 116
Fort Wilham . - ° ° ; - - le oh 30
Letterfinlay . 3 ; ° : lb. Wla.
Iuvergarry . ° ; ; ’ ° 74. «15248
Fort Augustus ; : ; . ; ° 7% 160
Invermoriston . ‘ : ; : F a !” a paliai
Drumendrochet - P . F I Sie LBD
Inverness ; : . ; . : Id 864
Sriruting To Forr WI LiiamM AND INVERNESS.
Callender , ; ;. ‘ F , : 16 16
Loch Karn Hlead ss. , : . “ : 14 30
To Comrie, 125 miles.
To Killin, 8 miles.
Luib : > : : : ; ° ; 10 40
| .Tyndrum : - : ° A - j 12 ay
Inverouran - ; : : : : ; !) 61
King’s House . F ; ; . . 9 70
Ballachulish . ; ; - : : rn 16 S6
Fort Augustus . ° ° ° ° ° PC Se 320,
General’s Hut . ; : ° 14 144
Inverness j d $ ? 5 “ 18 162
Perry vo Forr WuitiaMm.
Dunkeld 4 ; : P ‘ ‘ ‘ 15 15
Aberfeldy 3 2s ‘ ‘ i P : 17 a2
Tumel Bridge, 15; Dalnacardoch; 10=29 mules.
Kenmore F é ‘ ; ‘ ‘ A 6 38
Killin =, Z é ; , ‘ é : 16 5 a
Luib é ‘ ‘ ‘ s ; $ 7 6 60
Fort Wilham ; ‘ . f , °° - 46 106
Perru ro INVERNESS.
Dunkeld ° e * « e 8 r 15 15
1 Blayw Athol . : ‘ ; ‘ A : 194 34
| Dalnacardoch . ° ° ‘ ° ‘ » JOS 45
Dalwhinnie . e : h— >. ie ee oO o8
Loch Laggan, 13; Bridge of Roy, 25° Fort
William, 10 = 48 miles.
Garviemore, 13; Fort Augustus, 1831 miles.
Pitmain . : ' : ’ ‘ P 13 71
Aviemore e 9 e @ ® a 13 34
Bridge of Carr : ' . 8 Jo
Kreeburn ° 3 : ° 4 10]
Inverness : 4 ; 4 : : » 154 1165
Perru tro ABERDEEN BY BRAEMAR.
Blairgowrie. ‘ ° . : 6 T/ : /
Spital of Glenshee . ; ‘ ; ,; - I 36
Castleton of Braemar , ‘ : ° ° Id D1
Rallater . ‘ ‘ ° ° ; ° ° 1 66
Kincardine O'Neill . ‘ ‘ ‘ ° . Af Se
Park Inn : ° ° , ° , Te J 9
Aberdeen ‘ : é ‘ ‘ P 0 ywalicheed US
CASTLETON TO INVERNESS.
Rienloan ‘ ° ° ° one § ° Pe Pe,
Tomantoul , ° ° : " . } 's As <
Grantown , ° ° ° ° f ; . m AL
Bridge of Carr ° ° ° 7 ; as al
i Juyerness ~ e ¢ : 4 - m “ 245 19
208
Inverness TO Locit CARRON AND Fort Wi
Wen
Scuddel Bridge, over the Conon, by Kessock Ferry 10 10
Ditto, by Beauly, 184 miles.
Contin ° é 8 e r @ @ e 3 15
Strathgarve © e e e @ © e 7% 22
Achnanault* . ; ° ° ‘ “ wT 334
Auchnasheen (no inn ° : ° 38h
Kinlochewe 12, Pollewe 18 = 30 railes,
Luib e e @ @ e e e e 3 414
Craig e ® ° a ® e @ e 8 49%
J eantow. n ° : ° : ° gy ost
~ Shieldaig, 14 miles.
Applecross, 17 miles.
Strome Ferry . . . ‘ ° 3 634
Kyle Hakin, eZ mile.
Dornie e 6 r 8 e e @ e 10 734
Shiel House . , | aes ‘ >, ae 834
Kyle Rhea, 113 miles.
Cluany . ° » TI 9
Wdeormoriatent 1S; ‘Tnvemaee, 98 = Al miles.
Tomandown . L 4 » 11 106
Loch Hourn Head, 20 Lites,
Invergarry ° ° ° : . ~~ 12.318
Fort Wilham » e a e e 9 @ 4p 1404
INVERNESS TO SKYE AND Forr WI..MIAM.
Inverness to Kyle Hakin . 0 ° . » “Wd —
Broadford : ‘ ° ° ° ° ° 84 §2
Sconser e @ 8 ‘) ® e 8 a }2 205
Portree . ‘ ° ° » ° ° ~ 48 33%
Kinloch Snizort : ° ° ° ° ; 6 Qi
Dunvegan . ° ° ‘ E - 16 J54
Sligachan, about . . ° » , » 20 73
Broadford ‘ ‘ ° ° ° . Ib 88
. Kyle a 12 miles. - ?
Oronsay . : : : ; : ‘ 9 A
Armadale Ferry ° ° : ‘ : : 7 104
Arisalg .° . ! ° : ° . Go lte
Kinloch Aylort ° ‘ ° ‘ : » 10 #126
Glenfinnan. ° ‘ ° ° ° » 10 1386
Fort William . : ° , ‘ ° »- 18 154
= SUTIERLAND.
Inverness to Bonar Bridge, by Beauly, Dipy
and ‘Tain (mail-road) 61 os
Do. by Kessock Ferry, and the hil road
from Dingwall, 39 miles.
Bonar Bridge to Shin Bridge. , : ; 5 5
Bridge of Oykell . . > 4 . : ae
Inch-na-damff . : ‘ P ‘ ald 38
Loch Inver, 14 miles. i
Kyle Skoun .
E
Scowrie . ‘ ; : ; }3 63
Laxford Bridge e 4 e ® r 7 70
Rhiconnich =, ‘ . : ‘ : () 76
Durness ° ° : a ° ° 1+ 90
Huelim Ferry ‘ F ; é ; 8 98
Enbol e @ y e e e 4 ] 02
Aultnaharrow - : ; ; : 18 120
Lairg e e 3 e e 6 é e 21 14]
Bonar Bridge e e e 6 ‘ @ ] l ; 152
or
Huelim Ferry to Tongue . ; : ° om Il 305
Aultnaharrow , 18 pohZ7
Betty-hill of Farr, by Strath N aver, 30;
Thurso, 32 = 62 miles.
Bonar Bridge ° —, ; : . 32 9
Warkine Tour.
Days. Htours. Miles.
1. Dunkeld to Aberfeldy a ‘ ‘ a5 817
See Falls of Moness.
2. Kenmore 6, Killin 16 . : ° : ; 74022
Ascend Ben Lawers.
3. Kinloch Rannoch, across the head of Glen Lyon 7 to8 20
4, Tumel Bridge 7, Blair Athol 15 7% = 22
(Schehallien may be taken in the way,
which will add about two hours.)
See Falls of Bruar and Duke of Athol’s -
grounds: ascend Ben-y-Gloe.
5. Castleton, about 10 28
Lochnagar, Loch Avon, Ben-na-Muic-Dhui, Bie
6. Aviemore, two routes . ‘ : lZ2or13 30 to 35
by Pitmain . 4 13
8. Whitebridge, across the Monagh Teainemoun:
tains, by head of Strath Dern and Loch Kil-
lean, about ; 8. 21
(Or from Aviemore by Freeburn to White-
bridge, two days.)
* In the former Number the distance from Achnanault to Kin-
lechewe is wrengly gtated to be 12 instead of 17 miles,
MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT.
[May 31, 1837,
Days. Hours. Miles.
9, General's Hut 5, Inverness 18 —, ‘ ‘ y
See Falls of Foyers, Culloden, Falls of
Kilmorack, &c.
10. Drumindrochet . , ° ° . 4 15
Visit Glen Urquhart.
1}.. Invermoriston 13, ‘Torguil 9 ° 7 22
12. Invergarry, by Doe Bridge and across hills into
Glen Garry, about . 8 24
13, Cross the hills into Glen Roy —Bridge of Roy
about e @ e e 8 20
14, Fort William . . 3 10
Or by Loch Treig and Glen Nevis | o oma 30
Ascend Ben Nevis; visit Loch Arkeg.
15. Ballachulish 6 r ry @ @ € 44 14
16. King’s House . ° . ° is) 16
17, Bunawe, or Tyanuilt, about ° e . 9 25
Ascend Ben Cruachan.
18. Dalmally e e ® e e e 4 ne
19. Inverary . ° 3 16
Visit Duke of Argyle 5 grounds
20. Tarbet . ; 8 25
Ascend the " @eiitler and Ben —_
21. Crienlarich 16, Luib9 - + ; - 8 25
22, Loch Karn Head 10, Callender 14. a : 8 24
(The ascent: of Ben Voirlich lia add 6
or 7 miles.)
23. Trosachs . ~° . 3 10
See Loch Katrine, Rc. : : ae Ben sea
24. Rowardennan (hill-walking) ~ ‘ a) 16
Or to Aberfoil, 9 or 10 miles, and —
either to Glasgow or Stirling.
This round, if all be seen which is here set down,
with a reasonable allowance of delay from bad weather,
must be reckoned to’ take about six weeks. It includes
not certainly all that is worth seeing, but still the finest
portions of the country south of the Caledonian Canal,
besides a few detached portions to the north. Those
who incline to visit the glens of the northern part of
Inverness-shire and Ross-shire, will find little difficulty
in making out their route and distances from what we
have already said of that part of the country. “ Space
warns us to conclude. We can’only indicate for the
traveller’s notice, the Pictish towers, or burghs; the
vitrified forts; the fabled: remains of Bereconium,
the pretended capital of ancient: Scotland, near’ Loch
Etive, and other curious antiquities scattered over the
country, of which accounts will be found in every work
treating of Highland antiquities. The following are
only a few of many books, which may be advantage-
ously consulted upon the subjects to which they seve-
rally refer :— 4
Birt, Captain, Letters from the Highlands, in 1725-6.
Peunant’s Tour.
Johnson’s Tour to Hebmdes.
Brewster’s Edinburgh Encyclopedia, various articles.
Skene, Origin, History, and Antiquities of the Highlanders of
Scotland. 1837.
Brown’s History of Highlands and Highland Clans.
Chambers’ History of Rebellion in 1745,
Dick, Sir T. L., Account of the Moray Floods, in 1829.
Geological Society, Memoirs of.
Grant, Mrs., Letters from the Islands.
Quarterly Journal of Agriculture, and Highland Society.
Prize Essays, edited by Highland Society of Scotland.
Jameson, Professor, various works on Natural History of Scot-
land.
Loch, James, Improvements in Sutherlaad, 1820.
Macculloch, Dr., Letters on Highlands.
——____ ’ Description of Wester Islands, 1819,
Martin, Description of the Western Islands, 1716.
Selkirk, Earl of, Observations on the present state of the
Highlands. 1800.
Stewart, General, Sketches of the Highlanders. 1822.
Watson's Outline of the Geographical distribution of British
lants.
: Wernerian Society, Memoirs of, contain many papers on
scientific subjects conuected with the Highlands; as do many of
the Edinburgh Journals,
a
#.* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at
59, Lincoln’s Inn Fields.
LONDON: CHARLES KNIGHT & CC., 22, LUDGATE STREET.
Printed by Witniam CLowzs and Sons, Stamford Street
THE PENNY MAGAZINE
OF THE
Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge.
dod, ]
PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. [Jung 3, 1837
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[Chippeway Indians fishing in the ice—Lighthouse on the Shore of Lake Huron in the distance. |
THe engraving above represents what is termed a
British Indian—one of those located near British set-
tlements, and who are under the protection of our
government, receiving yearly allowances in manufac-
tured articles and food, in return for having sold their
lands. He is represented in the usual costume worn
by these Indians, and engaged in fishing in the ice.
During winter, when their supplies of dried flesh and
fish are exhausted, they resort to this uncomfortable
and cold mode of obtaining food. A hole is broken in
the ice with a hatchet; a piece of wood carved into the
shape of a fish, and coloured, to resemble one, having
tin fins and tail, and balanced by a piece of Jead in the
belly, is suspended in the water by a string of gut from
a short stick which is held in the left hand. ‘This de-
ception attracts the fish to the spot, when they are
struck by the spear held in the right hand, and brought
up. When cold frosty winds prevail, the Indians fre-
quently erect atemporary hut of poles and blankets
over the hole which they have made in the ice, with an
opening in the top to admit the light; this not only
protects them in some measure from the effects of the
cold, but also enables them to see the fish more easily,
as the rays of the sun on the snow dazzle and injure
the eyes. This kind of hut is represented in the
engraving. In the distance is a‘lighthonse on the
shores of Lake Huron, and to the left are the rapids of
the St. Clair, unfrozen, with Fort Gratia, belonging to
the United States. Fort Gratia is situated at the meuth
Vou. VI.
of the St. Clair, where it issues from Lake Huron—a
scene on the river St. Clair is given in No. 325.
The lakes and rivers of North America yield an
abundance of excellent fish, as well as aquatic wild-
fowl. The’only lake in the great chain of lakes which
yields such fish as make migratory excursions to the
sea, salmon, &c., is Lake Ontario—the falls of Niagara
presenting an effectual barrier to their visiting the
other lakes. But the-fresh-water stock of fish in these
lakes is sufficiently diversified ; amongst the favourite
sorts. are white fish, particularly those of the Detroit
river, the grey or salmon-trout, black and rock bass,
(there are also white and striped bass,) pickerel, pike,
and fresh-water herrings. Some of the outlets of the
lake abound with sturgeon, but in general the flesh ot
the American sturgeon is but little esteemed. A
species of pike called the Muskanungée, grows to a
large size, and is considered by many an excellent fish.
In the very smal] Jakes of North America the grey or
salmon-trout is never found to exceed four or five pounds
in weight; in the larger lakes it is to be found of ten
or twelve pounds; but in the ‘ great lakes * ait will
sometimes be found of the weight of thirty or forty
pounds. All the rivers and small streams are stocked
with trout of delicious flavour.
Tbe settlers who reside within a moderate distance
of the lakes are in the habit of repairing to the bays
and inlets, or wherever there is “ fishing-ground,’ as
soon as the spring has fairly opened. ~ or three
210
families commonly unite their forces on a fishing ex-
cursion. Having prepared their barrels and nets, they
proceed to the fishing-ground in a farm waggon, where
they generally contrive to arrive in theevening. — Light-
ing a fire on the beach, for the waters of the lakes are
still very cold in the “ fishing-season,” they set to
work, regaling themselves with whisky or cider at.
intervals during the night. If when morning arrives
the casks are not filled, they commonly remain. till
satisfied with the quantity caught. The fish taken in
this manner are divided amongst the party, and con-
veyed home. A portion is reserved, to be eaten as lone
as the fish remain tolerably fresh—the rest are salted
for a supply of provisions at the season when salt pork
and butcher’s-meat become scarce in the ‘* back settle-
ments.’
ADVENTURES IN EGYPT AND SYRIA.
(Continued from No. 318.]
“Wien we arrived at their village, the Arabs laid me on
a straw mat in the yard in the open air, and when they
came to take my clothes off, they were obliged to cut
them in consequence of my body being: so much swollen
from the wound [ had received. They .extracted a
musket-ball from my left lee with a horn and a sort of
a knife, which were the only instruments I saw among
them; they also shaved my head, and pnt a_ yellow
kind of sand upon’ my wounds, and gave me milk to
drink and dates to eat, which I with great difficulty
took a little of, being in so much pain. Ina little time
the pains in my face left me, and I found myself able
to eat; by constantly washing my wounds, in about a
month six of them were nearly healed, and I was so
much recovered that I was able to walk about in the
yard; and when tlie men were absent, their wives
would give me some lierbs to eat, also dates, and cheese
preserved in brine, and it was as salt as the brine itself.
At other times they would give me biscuits about the
size of a dollar, made of date stones, ground as you
would corn; it was very hard and black, and as bitter
as gall, but I was very glad to take anything they
would offer me. The women were more humane. to
me than the men, but not in their presence. ‘The men
asked me various questions; such .as I was able I
answered. ‘They were very desirous to know how many
Christians had been killed by Hassan Bey’s troops and
the Mamelukes ; among other questions they asked me
what sort of a man our Swan Bonaparte was, as the
country feared him much. When I answered their dif-
ferent questions they would scareely believe me. One
day they brought me Colonel Broune’s ostrich ege,
asking me if £ knew it, and also if.the yellow round
was gold; I answered it was: immediately they broke
the shell for the sake of the gold. | By this time all my
wounds, except that of my left hand, had g@ot quite well,
although nothing had been done to ‘them. except wash-
ing them constantly with buffalo’s milk, and cleansing
the sand from them with a feather.
‘After much suffering and misery, I found I had been
about four months with these miserable wretches, by
their fast, which begins in September, and lasts about
a month, and they call it Ramadhan. At this season,
during the day-time, they neither eat, drink or smoke,
until they see the evening star, or hear their master
or priest cry out from the top of the mosque or steeple,
after which they wash their hands and mouth, and
begin to eat, drink, and amuse themselves.”
The fast or lent of Ramadhan may have occurred
this year in the month of September, but Cavaliero was
mistaken if he thought it immoveable. It sometimes
occurs in very different months; and as the Moham-
medans count by a lunar year of 354 days, the Rama-
dhan, with the two dependant festivals of Bairam, and
IKurban Bairam, runs once in every thirty-three years |
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
[June 3,
through all the four seasons. When it happens in the
middle of summer it is most severe, for during the long
hot days the faithful are forbidden to take so much as
a drop of water. It otherwise differs materially from
the Lent of the Roman Catholics. In the evening
and meht.the Mohammedans may eat whatever they
choose, ‘with the exception of pork and the few other
things prohibited at all seasons by the koran. The
holidays or festivals, which are the only ones annually
celebrated, are correctly described by Cavaliero—on/y,
it should be observed, good Mussulmans never geet
intoxicated, wine and spirituous drinks being forbidden
at all times. In the great towns of ‘Turkey, however,
and we believe in Egypt generally, drunkenness is
common during the Kurban-Bairam, and the Turks
are, or at least used to be a few years ago, as dangerous
in their cups as Cavaliero’s Arabs. ‘the Batram com-
mences the instant the Ramadhan finishes—the Kurban
Bairam seventy days after the Bairam. ‘The writer of
the journal continues :—
‘““ After the fast is over, they have a feast, which lasts
three days, and is called Bairam, and a very grand one
it is among them, every individual putting on his best
apparel, and all amusing themselves in different ways;
some firing at marks, others playing at single-stick,
others on horseback, throwing their arrows and lances,
which they are very expert at; in short, every person
diverting himself in some way or other, and appearing
highly pleased. ‘Their next feast is called Kurban
Bairam. They begin to eat and drink as before, but
at this feast it is very dangerous for any Christian to
be near them, as they are generally intoxicated for
several days together, and at these intervals they think
nothing of lalling a Christian if they meet with any.
At this festival £ was treated better than usual, as they
pave me some rice and mutton together, two cups of
coffee, and a pipe of tobacco. This was the only good
food I had had for five months past. Ali Haman, the
chief of this village, named me Ragib Achmet, which
nanie I was to go by in future; he also wave me a
piece of hairy stuff to cover my body, the only clothing
I had to wear, and the only article I had to lie upon at
nivht. ‘They also compelled me to eat with some of
them, ‘They were the most miserable deformed objects
I ever saw. They generally sit together, ten or twelve
upon a mat, ina circle, the food placed in the centre;
they use neither knife, fork, or spoon; they are very
fond of beans dressed with a quantity of oil, which is
very disagreeable both for taste and smell. Some of
them have two or three wives, others more, according’
to their circumstances; men, women, and children. all
sleep together upon a straw mat. The place where
they sleep is hollow underneath, a fire being kept nnder
them ; and what they burn is horse and camel's dung
dried in pieces about the size of a brick; and it isa
chief occupation of the women to .prepare this fuel,
which they mix together with their hands, usine no
trowel or other instrument, and most of their villages
are built with the same stuff mixed with straw. This
particular village was surrounded with a wall of the
same material. During the day these huts are scarcely
habitable, owing to the intense heat of the sun, and at
night are quite ‘cold. ‘The natives generally retire from
their work about an hour or two before sunset, and
begin about an hour or two after sunrise. When they
are visited by. their own acquaintances, their first in-
quiries are after their families, meaning the camels,
cows, sheep, &c., &c., at the same time they kiss each
other several times on the left side of the face. When
any of the family die, there is a bellowing and crying
for two or three days and nights; and when the corpse
is carried to be buried, the women follow, and at this
time their faces are uncovered, and they will scratch
their. faces and tear their hair out by handsful. ‘They
1837]
put money and victuals in the tomb where the corpse is
to lie, and once or twice a week the relations of the
deceased will go to the tomb, taking with them a basket
of provisions for the deceased, asking them many
questions, supposing them to understand their conver-
sation.
‘‘ But to return to my miserable state of life. Ali
Haman, the chief of the tribe, finding I was able to
go about, requested I would join his party of roving
Arabs, about ninety in number, on horseback; and he
armed me with a lance and a French musket, at the
Saine time finding me a horse. After I was thus
equipped, I bowed to him and kissed his hand, at the
same time giving him to understand I was willing to
oo- and fight for him, but pointed to him that I was
not able to manage the musket from my left hand being
so disabled by the wound I got from his Arabs; and,
in consequence, the chief put his hand upon my head
as @ token of humanity, aud instead of the musket he
gave ine a pistol. ‘he lance was about twelve feet
long, with a line about eleven fathoms fixed to it, that.
you might either fix it to the saddle or hold it in your
hand. Soon after my equipment, about fifty of us
started from the village, on horseback, in quest of some
other tribe carrying goods to the different markets, my
companions knowing well the different seasons the
markets are held. We never travelled after sunset.
On their stopping for the night, they generally light a
fire, and sit all around it, telling stories, till they fall
fast asleep. The horses are kept saddled and bridled
all night. They never keep sentinels, but haye dogs
that are constantly running about, and, if they hear the
least noise, will bark and yell. The first thing in the
morning they wash their feet, hands and face, and
worship the sun; their breakfast is two or three cups
of coffee, without sugar, and two or three pipes of
‘tobacco—some will smoke on horseback. [The Mo-
hammedans, in saying their prayers, turn to the Kast,
or to the point where Mecca, the city of their prophet,
is situated, but not to worship the sun. Such an,act
would be considered idolatrous, and is forbidden by the
Koran. They are enjoined to perform.ablutions before
they pray, and unless they wash themselves, the namaz,
or prayer, is held as invalid. Jn the deserts, where no
water is to be procured, they may rub tlieir hands, feet,
face, head, and neck, with sand.] About thie fifth day
of our journey, we fell in with a convoy of sheep, asses,
buffaloes, and horses, going to the market to be sold.
The opposite tribe, seeing our force superior to theirs,
beean to scatter their flocks, and fired a few shot at us,
and made the best of their way from us, leaving their
property behind them. We immediately collected as
many as we were able and drove them before us. I
thought this was a very easy way of fighting their
enemies and taking their property. I believe there was
neither killed nor wounded on either side. On our way
to our own village, we sold part of the cattle as we
passed the different villages. On our arrival home,
Ali Haman seemed well pleased with our captures ; thre
first inquiry was, if we left many behind us. In about
three months after, Ali Haman had the generosity to-
give me a pair of Bedouin slippers and two scull-caps,
which were found among the goods we had taken. At
this time they had more rerard for me than usual, as
they gave me some meat, altdough they very seldom
kill sheep or poultry, notwithstanding that their vil-
lages and camps are crowded with cattle and all kinds
of poultry. Their method of hatching chickens is by
putting soft rags into a warm oven and placing a great
number of eggs on them, and then letting them remain
till hatched. ‘They send their pouitry to the sea-port
towns for sale.
“In January, 1800, the chief got his men ready for
another expedition, and I was to be of the party. I
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
21h
requested Ali Haman to let me have a sabre instead of
a lance, which he complied with. Not having been ac-
customed to snch weapons, I was not capable of using
the lance in the way they did; but I was confident that,
with a pistol and sabre, I could defend inyself against
three or four of these fellows, who are the greatest
cowards imaginable. The chief never goes out to
war himself, but sends his nearest relation to take the
management, and before leaving he gives directions
how to proceed. The signal, in case of separation, is
to fasten a turban on the end of a lance and to fix
the lance in the ground; and this is answered by throw-
ing dust in the air with their hands. In this expedi-
tion we had very hard fighting, but we came off vic-
torious. We had three or four killed and five or six
wounded, ‘They never make any prisoners; but if by
chance any of the enemy fall into their hands, they
strip them of whatever they have, and then Jet them go.
We took from them several camels and asses, loaded
with beans, white soap in cakes, butter in skins, and
blue linen, which were going to Damietta. On our
return home, Ali Haman was much pleased with our
booty; but when he found that Muley Hamet was
among the slain, he began to cry, at the same tiie
Inquiring if his clothes and ammunition were taken care
of. ‘Phe ammunition, I knew, was 4 very’scarce article
among them. After this capture, Ali Haman presented
me with ‘a bowrnowse, or cloak, an article [I was much
in need of. The whole of this tribe, tovether with their
families, cattle, and luggage, removed from this village
to the borders of the desert, where they encamped,
having with them all the necessary tents and utensils.
The females are very fond of ornaments of gold, silver,
and various stones, and likewise ornament their lees
with silver rings. This tribe, they told me, liad been
plundered once by Hassan Bey’s troops, and twice by
the French; and Ali Haman assured me that he had
been at Damietta in disguise, to see’ the French troops
exercise, and that he was much pleased. At the same
time he asked me whether [ would assemble his men
and show him something like what he had seen the
French do. I replied [I thought I could ; upon which
he ordered them to assemble, about eighty in number,
when I formed them into one rank, then into two,
afterwards into squadrons, also making them charge
sword-in-hand. ‘They kept the Jine tolerably well
during the slow movements. As their horses never
trot, I bronght them into a slow gallop, but I could
keep them in no sort of order in this pace, as they were
scattered here and there, and threw one another into the
utmost confusion. Both in thetr march and fighting I
never observed a military movement amongst them.
‘They are very fond of their horses, and use them well,
but have very rage@ed accoutrements for them. While
I was riding with them on the borders of this desert, I
saw many ostrictes, as also their eves, lying on the
sands: they are very wild, and will run very quick, at
the same time making’ use of their wings, but their feet
touch the ground, and they will run in this way faster
than an Arabian horse. ‘Fhe Arabians seldoin trouble
them.
**We remained about six weeks at this place, when
we marched three or four days further into the desert,
tomether with the whole of the tribe. I found, from
calculation, that I had been abont fourteen months
with these people; durine this period they made me
follow thetr customs and manners, and proposed cir-
cumcision. On understanding the exact meanmg of
this, 1 became very uncomfortable, knowing if was.a
practice with them to make a Mussulman of a Christian
whenever they could. Soon after. this proposal, Ali
Haman, the chief of the tribe, told me that be wus
eoing to Messa (Cairo), and he would take me with
him to the French sultan, meaning Bonaparte which
2 ti
212
gave me infinite pleasure; at the same time I informed
him I would recommend him in the highest terms to
the French sultan for having saved my life, and hoped
he would in future contribute towards his interest. In
August following they placed me on a camel, with
three of the natives, and six on foot, armed with sticks,
and the chief on horseback. On our journey my heart
beat with such transports of joy that I scarcely took
any nourishment, thinking I was going to join the
army again; but to my great astonishment, when
within four miles of Grand Cairo, we met a Turkish
detachment, and I discovered that I had been deceived,
and that I was about to be sold by these bandits of
Arabs. When we arrived at the gate of the city, they
made me alight, and conducted me to the Grand Vizier,
the commander-in-chief of the Turkish army, and [
could not conceive, to myself what had become of the
French army. On approaching the Grand Vizier, I
perceived him to be a very deformed and short, man,
with.a long grey beard down to his breast, and blind of
an eye. ,
‘The interpreter, who was a renegade, and had aban-
doned the Christian religion for the turban, asked me
where the Arabs got me, and if there were any more
Christians besides myself with them. I informed him
they found me on the borders of the desert, where I
had been left for dead by the Mussulman soldiers, and
had kept me with them for about fourteen months,
then promising to take me to the French sultan. The
Grand Vizier seemed pleased at my being deceived, and
said that the French were beaten, and almost all the
Christians put to death, or turned out of the country,
and that there was no hope for me but by turning Mus-
sulman: the interpreter at the same time pressed me
much to become one for the sake of saving my life.
Knowing | should suffer the remainder of my days if
I did, I was determined not to change my religion,
but to trust to the mercy of the vizier, the interpreter
saying he would speak in my behalf; but whether it
had any effect on the vizier I know not, for he sentenced
me to be carried to the market-place, and there sold.
At this sentence Ali Haman went and kissed the vizier's
feet, and then taking me from his presence, two of
the Turkish soldiers put a cord round my neck, and
tied me toa horse’s tail, and in this condition I was
carried to the market, and in passing through the streets
the inhabitants would spit at me. When 1 arrived at
the market, one of Ali Haman’s Arabs led me by the
cord up and down the market for a leneth of time, and
after a long examination by several Turkish officers of
my features, one of them purchased me for 100 sequins,
about 16/2. 10s. sterling. He immediately took the
cord from my neck, and desired me to follow him, which
I did; and when we arrived at his lodging, he ordered
the clothes [ had on to be taken off, and gave nie
better ; also ordering my head to be shaved according
to their custom, and desiring his upper servant to take
me into his mess. Here the Turkish servants are
separate from the native ones; the latter live down
and the former up stairs, and have their Turkish cooks
to dress their victuals.”
(To be continned.3
ie ey, Sy We
fey oR. ar ra < .
Loan Societies in the Metropolis——The following state-
ments are taken from the first Annual Report of a Fnendly
Loan Society, which is enrolled under the provisions of the
5and6 Will. 1V., cap. 23. The society transacts its busi-
ness in Leicester Square, and the report from which the
extracts are taken was read at a general meeting on the
Ist of March last. ‘‘ Wherever loan societies have been
established hitherto, they have been in the highest degree
beneficial ; but, notwithstanding the concurrence of testi-
mony in their favour, many persons, who were ready to
admit their general utility, were doubtful of the success of
such an institution in the metropolis, where its risks frem ,
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
[June 3°
fraud and misrepresentation may be supposed greater than
in any other situation. Even the most saneuine among
the supporters of the Friendly Loan Society were not entirely
free from apprehension ; they considered that its establish-
ment must be viewed partly in the light of a new experi-
ment,’in which, while they expected success, they were not
unmindful of the possibility of failure. It is therefore with
peculiar satisfaction that the Managers feel themselves jus-
tified in reporting their opinion, that London has not proved
an exception to the general rule; and that, with a reason-
able exercise of caution, anda steady adherence toa few
simple principles, the system may be relied upon for pro-
ducing the same beneficial results in the metropolis which
have shown themselves elsewhere. A question of great
importance in considering the practical working of this
system is, the proportions in which the loans have been
repaid by the borrowers themselves, or by their sureties. It
is by this comparison alone that it is possible to ascertain
whether the borrowers have really profited by the money
lent to them, or whether the society has been merely a cir-
cuitous channel, through which eleemosynary assistance
has been afforded to them, under the mere pretext of a loan.
The result of this comparison is most satisfactory. It ap
pears that the proportion of cases in which the sureties have
been resorted to for payment is one in fourteen, and that
the proportional amount which they have paid is only one
in thirty. The idea of examining this proportion was sug-
gested to the Managers from documents in their possession
showing the practice of a similar society in Hamburgh,
which was established in the year 1831. In that society,
which is still In operation with continually increasing suc-
cess, the proportional amount paid by the sureties was, in
the first year, one in seven, and in the four following years
diminished to one in thirteen, one in fifteen, and lastly, one
in seveliteen. The Managers of the Friendly Loan Society
consider therefore that they may refer to the proportion of
one in thirty, shown by their own transactions in the metro-
polis, as ina high degree encouraging and honourable to
the character of the borrowers.”
Bank and Bankers.—The possessor of the original of the |
following very curious document, since the publication of
the article on Banking in No. 328 of the ‘ Penny Magazine,’
has favoured us with a copy of it. It was recently shown
at the Bank; and examined by the directors, who, causing
the books to be searched, ascertained that it was really out-
standing and undischarged :— ,
“No. loam
“I promise to pay to Mr. Thomas Cudon or Bearer the
sum of Sixpence. London, the 8th May, 1700.
“ For the Governoures and Company of the
Bank of England,
6 “ Jno. Ware,
ss Ex, 13 Feb., 1774, . 10 June, 1797,
oF, Fowrrr. “ J. Souruey.”
In the Number of the ‘Penny Magazine’ already alluded
to it was stated that the London bankers— that is, private
bankers—do not allow interest on deposits. This does not
apply to two or three recently-established joint-stock banks,
which allow interest on deposits from 10/. and upwards, at 2
and 24 per cent., and for large sums as may be agreed on.
ce
ON THE GREBES.
Or the various aquatic birds which tenant the marshes,
rivers, and sea-shores of our island, or which pay us
an annual visit—for most of this race, be it observed,
are migratory,—none are more interesting than the
grebes. Five species of this generic group may be
regarded as British species; but of these three are rare
within the precincts of our shores, though elsewhere
very abundant. The grebes coustitute a truly natural
genus, distinguished by the title of Podzceps, in allu-
sion to the Jobated form of their toes, a peculiarity
which we shall describe more fully; they are birds of
aquatic habits, and are especially celebrated for their
powers of diving, and for the rapidity of their sub-
aquatic evolutions. ‘They are not, however, like the
penguin and the great auk, destitute of the powers of
flight, though they seldom have recourse to this mode
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[Grebes. |
of escape from pursuit; for the shortness of the wings
and the absence of a tail render it impossible for them
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after each stroke. A better idea of the exquisite me-
chanism of the foot of the grebe will be conceived from
to rise with celerity: once, however, elevated, their flight ; the annexed sketch than from any verbal description,
is rapid, and capable of being well sustained. Hence
they take lone migratory journeys with more ease than
might at first be expected. In the form of their body,
the position and structure of the feet, and the nature of
their plumage, the grebes are expressly fitted for the
element on which they habitually reside, and in which
they chase their finny prey with arrow-like velocity.
The head is narrow; the beak long’, pointed, and sharp,
somewhat compressed at the sides, and slightly inclined
upwards towards the tip. The neck is long; the body
boat-shaped and flattened; the wings are short, con-
cave, and pointed; there is no tail; the plumage is
thick, full, and soft; a dense layer of fine down forms
an under-dress, being’ covered by feathers of a silky
gloss and texture, and completely water-proof. ‘Ihe
toes differ from those of every other aqnatic race of
birds. Instead of being webbed, as in the duck tribe
and others of the natatorial order, they are completely
separate and flattened, having their edges furnished
with a broad stiff membrane, each toe being», in fact, a
distinct and beautifully-formed paddle. Of the three
anterior toes, the outermost is the longest and largest ;
the next is nearly as large, and its outer edge lies tile-
like over the inner membrane of the outermost; the
innermost toe is less than the middle one, on which its
onter edge impinges. The hind toe is short, placed
high on the leg, and furnished with a lobated mem-
brane. ‘The arrangement of the scales covering the
tces gives to them a leaf-like appearance; for the lines
dividing the scales run in regular succession obliquely
upwards from a central line or shaft, formed by the
bones advancing to the tips, which are covered with a
broad, flat nail. The leg, or tarsus, is short, and flat-
tened laterally, so as to cut the water when drawn up
and its tri-oared character at once understood.
[Foot of the Male Eared-Grebe. ]
That the outer toe, or oar, should be the largest
(contrary to what is usually the case) may at first
appear surprising; on reflection, however, it will be
seen to be a necessary provision ; inasmuch as by this
arrangement the impetus of each stroke of each foot is
carried in a line obliquely forwards to the anterior part
of the chest, to which it converges; whereas, were the
inner toe the largest, and the outer the smallest, the
line of the impulse of each stroke would diverge from
the body, and consequently there would be a waste of
power. We find a beautiful analogous formation in
this respect in the hind-feet or paddles of the sea-otter
214
of the west coast of North America (Enhydra marina,
Flem.), of which some details will be found in the
‘ Proceedings of the Zoological Society’ fur 1836, p.. 59.
The situation of the legs in the grebe is thrown as
far backwards as possible, aud the thigh is short, and,
as it were, retracted, so as not to advance beyond the
body; the grebe, however, cannot sit upright like the
penguin, for it does not rest on its heel; it is not planti-
gerade. When resting on the land it lies prone on its
whole body, and in this situation shuffles along like a
seal, pushing itself onwards by striking the ground with
its feet. Ill adapted for the land, the erebe, as we have
seen, 1s admirably constructed for the water. It swims
low, owing to the flatness of its body, and when diving
in pursuit of its prey uses its wings to add to its velocity.
The employment of the wings in sub-aquatic progression
is not, however, peculiar to the grebes; in the great auk
and penguin the wings are fashioned for this and no
other use; and in all true diving-birds, as the euillemot,
razor-bill, &c., the wings serve a similar purpose, and
they are short, stiff, and concave. ‘The quickness with
which the grebes dive is very remarkable; so iustanta-
neously do they plunge, that they are able to avoid the
shot from a fowling-piece, fired by a common flint lock,
and they will then make a stretch of 200 yards before
coming up to breathe, which is done by merely raising
the head for a second above the water. Mr. Selby in-
forms us that, when making a tour through Holland,
in company with Sir W. Jardine, he eave chase to a
crested grebe, upon one of the lakes in the neiehbour-
hood of Rotterdam, and that though in a boat con-
ducted by those accustomed to the business, it cost
upwards of an hour and a half’s severe exertion to get
within range and secure it by a shot through the neck.
The food of this singular group of birds consists of fishes
and aquatic insects; but it is observed that the stomach
is always found to contain a mass, greater or less, of
the feathers of their own body. That these are swal-
lowed to assist digestion, as has been suggested, is not
clear; most probably they are involuntarily swallowed
during the dressing and cleaning of the plumage, for we
often find in the stomach of cows and other ruminants
balls of hairs the material being collected into the mouth
while licking their own or each others’ coats (which
they may be often noticed doing), and then swallowed.
Hawks and owls, which swallow the feathers of birds
on which they have fed, cast up these indigestible
exuvie in the form of round pellets; but we have
no grounds for supposing that this is the case with the
grebes. Both Montague and Selby observe that the
feathers which have been for some time, as-they con-
jecture, in the stomach, are comminuted, and thus re-
duced toa state fit for passing into the intestinal canal.
The places chosen by the grebes for their nidifi-
cation are among the thick reeds and luxuriant aquatic
herbage of marshes, or the sedges which border fresh-
water lakes and rivers, the nest being composed of
a mass of half-decayed roots, dried flags, and other
similar vegetable materials. It ts large and compact,
but roughly put together, and rises or falls according
to the rise or fall of the water on which it floats; the
eves are three or four in number.
‘The females when they leave the nest in order to
obtain food, cover the eggs with loose materials, ap-
parently for the purpose of concealment ; some writers,
however,.are disposed to regard this covering as an
instinctive provision made by the bird for preserving
the warmth of the eegs till her return. The common
gallinule, or moor-hen, covers up her ees in the same
manner, and no doubt for the same purpose, namely,
that of concealment from natural enemies. It is only
Within the last few vears that. ornithologists have ex-
tvicated the species of the grebe genus (Podiceps) from
the confusion in which they were left by earlier writers,
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
[June 38,
who, misled by the great difference existing between
the plumage of birds in an immature and adult state,
had set down the young as specifically distinct from
their parents; nor is this error much to be wondered
at, since the differences are not only very considerable
as it regards colour, but also as respecting the absence
or presence of long ear-tufts, occipital crests, or throat-
frills, with which the adults are more or less ornamented
during the breeding season. The horned grebe, the
eared grebe, and the crested e@rebe, take their names
from the position of these silky plumes, which produce
a Striking and elegant appearance. We have every
reason, however, to believe that they are lost during
the winter, being the temporary ornaments of the
breeding season. Mr. Selby evidently regards these
plumes as permanent; and in speaking of the crested
erebe, which he states to be three years in acquiring
them, he adds, “It is much more frequently met with
in the young or imperfect state of plumage than in that
of the adult; and out of more than a dozen specimens
which have at different times come under my obser-
vation, not one had attained the distinguishing cha-
racters of the crested grebe.” We would here sugeest
the probability that many of these specimens had lost
their head-dress, and were really mature birds. We
have had opportunities of examining many crested
grebes, killed in winter, but never saw one with its
pecuhar tufts. In our opinion that the ornamental
plumes are only temporary, we are supported by the
authority of Mr. Gould, who gives a splendid figure of
the crested grebe in his ‘ Birds of Europe.’ — His plate,
he observes, “represents a young bird of the year, and
an adult during the season of incubation; at which
season it assumes the rich ornamental crest and tippet
which are then so conspicuous. It is the immature
bird which is described by the older writers as the
tippet-grebe, and which so nearly represents the adults
in their winter dress, as to render any particular descrip-
tion unnecessary.” The term tippet-grebe refers to the
use to which the soft fur of the under parts of the body
was often applied, and not to the circumstance of any
frill on the bird itself.
The five species of Grebe which are ranked among’
British birds are the crested grebe, ( Podiceps cristatus)
the eared grebe, (P. auritus) the horned erebe, (P.
cornutus) the red-necked grebe (P. rubricollis), and the
little grebe or dabchick (P. minor). The crested erebe,
of which our plate gives a characteristic figure, is the
largest of the genus, and breeds annually amidst the
moors and fens of our marshy districts. As the winter
sets in, and the still waters begin to freeze, it migrates
to the larger rivers and their mouths, where it obtaius
fish and small crustacea, which form its winter food.
The tliree succeeding’ species are much more rare in
our island. The eared grebe occasionally breeds in
the eastern counties of England: itis common in the
northern parts of Europe. The same may be said of
the horned grebe, which is plentiful in the north-east
of Kurope, in Northern Asia, and North America: Dr.
Richardson fonnd it in the Fur countries frequenting
every lake with grassy borders. ‘The red-necked grebe
appears to be more partial to the sea than any of the
other species ; it is ouly a winter visitant to our shores,
its breeding-places being within the arctic regions. It
was observed during Franklin’s Expedition in 1822
upon the Great Slave Lake : it is common in the north-
eastern parts of Europe.
The little -grebe or dabchick is the smallest and most
interesting of the group. It is common im all the
southern counties of our island, wherever ponds and
small lakes fringed with reeds and dense herbage offer
it an asylum ; but it is shy and wary, and on the least
appearance of danger dives instantly, and makes ils
way to the friendly shelter of the reeds, among which
4
1837.]’,
it is effectually concealed. With due caution, however,
it may be watched on the water, in company with
its mate, or followed by its little brood, diving and.
sporting with admirable ease and celerity. Small as
it is, it possesses all the characteristic powers of its
genus in full perfection. Should the least noise or
any motion betray the presence of an intruder on its
quiet domain, it disappears ina moment ; and if hunted
by a doe sent in among the reeds, it will remain under
water, the bill being merely elevated above the surface.
During the winter it leaves its inland haunts, and_ be-
takes itself to the mouths of. rivers, and small retired
bays or inlets alone the shore, where it feeds upon the
fry of fishes, shrimps, and marine insects: Mr. Selby
states that he has often caught the dabchick in Budle
Bay on the coast of Northumberland, in small pools
left after the retiring of the tide. ‘‘ Having first dived,
they afterwards invariably attempted to conceal them-
selves amon the fronds of the A/ge, rarely attempting
to escape by flight.” The dabchick seldom or never
comes on land; its life is passed on the water, and it
usually builds a floating nest, fixed to the surrounding
tufts of herbage, so as to render it secure. Sometimes,
however, the nest is not floating, but raised upon a
mass of withered matted vegetables, the debrzs of former
years. It contains five or six eves of a greenish white,
which are carefully covered. each time the female quits
them. In maturity the head, chin, throat, and nape of
the neck are @lossy black; the ear feathers, the sides of
the neck, and the middle of the fore part of the latter
are rich orange brown; the chest and sides are glossy
grey, the flanks pale reddish; the under surface silky
white. In this state it is the black-chin grebe of the
older writers; the immature bird wants the orange-
brown on the neck, and has the chin white. Its upper
plumage is also of a lighter hue.
THE FOREST OF DEAN.
The Queen of Forests all, that west of Severn le;
Her broad and bushy top Dean holdeth up so high,
The lesser are not seen, she is so tall and large.— DRAYTON.
By the ancient Jaw, forests were the peculiar prerogative
of the crown, and the king was able at any time to
establish them.. Formerly there were accounted sixty-
eight forests in England: of these the New Forest, in
Hampshire, was the largest, Windsor Forest the second,
and the Forest of Dean the next in extent.
‘The Forest of Dean is situated in the western part of
Gloucestershire, between the rivers Severn and Wye, in
the hundred of St. Briavels, and now extends over 23,373
acres of land. ‘The derivation of the name of this forest
has been much disputed. Camden tells us that some of
the Latin writers called it Sylva Danica, from the Danes;
others with Giraldus, Danubia; but he himself fancies
that, unless it takes its name from a small neighbouring
town called Dean, that it is derived by dropping the
first syllable in the word arden, which word le ‘says the
Gauls and Britons used for wood: the correctness of
Camden in stating arden to have generally signified a
forest in the ancient language of the Britons has been
doubted. Other writers have conjectured that the real
derivation is to be found in its British name, Danyscoed,
that is, the wood of fallow-deer. From whatever source
the name may have originated, the word Dean is a
common component part in the names of local divi-
sions in the county of Gloucester, and in some other
counties of England. ‘The Forest of Dean still be-
longs to the king, and is particularly valuable for
the goodness and strength of its timber, consisting
chiefly of oak and beech: its soil, which is eenerally of
a wet clayey description, is very favourable for the
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
215
srowth of .wood ; orchards also abound in it, and the
cider made of its almost peculiar produce, the styre-
apple, is peculiarly fine, and bears a high price. The
general appearance of the forest is beautiful and pic-
turesque, finely. interspersed with deep valleys and
rising grounds, and abounding with copious springs,
the deposits from which point out the value of that which
is beneath the surface. It has been celebrated for its
timber from the earliest times. Camden informs us
that its destruction was prescribed in one of the in-
structions given to the Spanish Armada. LEvelyn, in
his ‘Sylva, also relates a fact not very unlike that
mentioned by Camden: an ambassador, he says, in
the reign of Elizabeth was purposely sent.from Spain
to procure the destruction, either by negociation or
treachery, of the oak growing in it.. Dean Forest also
abounds in coal and iron ore: iron appears to have
been wrought in the forest both by the ancient Britons
and the Komans; and in the reign of Edward I.
sevelity-two furnaces for sinelting Iron are recorded to
have been built there. It must formerly have been
much: more thickly wooded, and of much greater extent
than at present; for we find that it was anciently so
overgrown with oaks, as to have become a notorious
harbour for robbers, who committed ravages in the
neighbourhood, and so infested the banks of the Severn,
that an Act of Partiament was passed in the eighth year
of the reign of Henry VI. to curb and restrain them ;
and in a survey made in the seventeenth of Charles I.
the forest is estimated as originally containing 43,000
acres, of which above 14,000 were woodland. Many
depredations have been made, and encroachments suf-
fered, on the forest, either through the neglect of the
officers, or the improvident grants of sovereiens. In
no one instance was greater mischief done than by
Charles I., who disafforested and granted 18,000 acres
of woodland, on which were growing 105,557 trees,
containing 61,928 tons of timber, besides 153,209 cords
of wood, to Sir John Wyntour, in consideration of
10,0002. paid down by way of fine, 8000/. advance of
rent, 16,000/. yearly for six years, and a fee farm rent
of 19500. 12s. 8d. for ever. Sir J. Wyntour immediately
enclosed upwards of 5000 acres, which caused the
foresters, on the breaking out of the civil wars, to
destroy the enclosures: the rebellion did not permit
Wyntour to enjoy his grant long; the entire forest was
taken possession of by the Commons, and, according to
Evelyn, ‘“‘ what the crafty Spaniard could not do by trea-
chery, was then nearly completed, through divisions and
dissension, by exposing to sale for fuel those stout and
sturdy oaks, whose preservation might have proved a
sure defence and bulwark on the water, if the frozen
winter of that iron age had not destroyed them by fire.”
After the Restoration a new but less favourable erant
was made to Wyntour, on his surrendering his former
orant, which was stated to have been worth upwards of
100,0002. Soon after the making of this grant Sir
John, being in difficulties, mortgaged his interest in
the forest, and employed upwards of 500 fellers of wood
to cut down trees; and so rapid was the devastation,
that the Parliament made an order to prevent any further
felling ‘of timber. Before a bill, however, could be ~
passed to enforce this order, the Parliament was dis-
solved, and Sir John left to pursue his pleasure, which
he did so effectually, that on a survey made in 1667,
only 200 of the oak and beech trees were found stand-~
ing. To repair these mischiefs, an act was passed in
the twentieth of Charles II., which made the disafforest-
ing of these lands void, and under its provisions 11,000
acres were enclosed, planted, and carefully guarded ;
and from the plantations then made tlie supply for his
Majesty’s dockyards is now principally obtained. Dur-
ing the late war, the lorest of Dean supplied upwards
216
of 1000 loads of timber annually for the use of the
navy.
The Forest of Dean is divided into six walks, known
by the names of their respective lodges or houses, built
for the residence of the royal keepers: its government
is nominally vested in a lord warden, who is also con-
stable of the castle of St. Briavels, formerly the resi-
dence of men of eminence in the government of Eng-
land, six deputy-wardens, four verderers chosen by the
freeholders, a conservator, seven woodwards, a chief
forester in fee and bow bearer, eight foresters in fee,
a vaveller, and a steward of the Swanimote: many of
these offices have, by the lapse of time, now fallen into
disuse. Besides the courts of attachment; of Swani-
mote, and the justice seat, incident to all forests, there
were two courts formerly peculiar to this forest, one for
the trial of personal actions still in use, to which we
shall afterwards more particularly refer, and another
which was called the Mine Law Court, for the decision
of all disputes arising between the miners concerning
the mines. ‘The causes tried before this court were not
determined by the forest laws, nor by any written laws
of the realm, but by such as were peculiar to the court
itself. The miners exercised the legislative power, and
made new laws for their convenience as often as they
saw occasion. ‘The jurisdiction of this court was so
extensive, that at one period it assumed the right to
reculate the price of cvals in the forest. The parties
and witnesses in a cause before it were-sworn upon a
bible into which a piece of holly stick was placed, and
were obliged to wear the hooff, or working-cap, upon
their heads during examination. The great freedoms
which the Mine Law Court exercised raised’ oppo-
sition to it, and.its authority was put to the test in the
Court of King’s Bench ‘in 1752; but although’ the
legal proceedings, so far as they went, confirmed its
power, it has been discontinued since the year 1777.
In the middle of the forest stood a large building
called the Speech House, in which the, courts were
held. é
The Forest of Dean is extra-parochial, is without: any
compulsory provision for the maintenance of the poor,
has no constables or other peace-officers, and its inha-
bitants are exempt from the payment of county and
parochial rates and taxes. The population of the forest
by the last census is estimated at 7700, and Is alinost en-
tirely composed of what are called free miners, who claim,
and have for centuries exercised, most important mining
privileges. The origin of these privileges is nnknown ;
but traces of tle existence of the Forest of Dean miners
are found in the records of our early history. ‘They
were summoned to attend the royal armies in the reigns
of Edwards I. and II., and a tradition still exists in the
forest that the exclusive privileges were given them in
consequence of their services at one of the early sieges
of the town of Berwick-upon-Tweed. In the reign
also of Edward III. they were summoned to attend the
camp near Berwick; and in Guthrie's * History of
England,’ vol. ii. p. 185, it is stated “ that Sir Edward
Manny bringing engineers out of the Forest of Dean,
and Edward investing the place with a prodigious
army,’ the Scots capitulated. In a book printed in
1687, entitled ‘The Laws and Customs of the Miners
of the Forest of Dean,’ a copy of which is in the library
of the British Museum, it is recorded that the customs
and franchises had been “granted time out of mind,
and after in time of the excellent and redoubted prince,
King Edward III.” ‘These privileges appear in early
times to have formed a continual subject of dispute
between the miners and the lessees of the crown, and
not unfrequently to have been litigated in the courts of
law. In the reign of Charles II., their rights were
formally recognised, but without being strictly defined,
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
[JUNE 3, 1837,
and from that time to the present they have exercised
their privileges generally undisturbed by the crown or
its lessees.
The foresters are a fine athletic, independent race of
men, fond of boasting that the produce of their own
county is sufficient for their wants, without being
obliged to any other part of the kingdom: their chief
employment is mining, in the exercise of which they
could formerly earn more money than any common
labourers in England besides. They have a proverb
amongst them, which is their favourite saying, “ Happy
is the eye betwixt the Severn and the Wye.” The
qualification of a free miner is, that he should be born
within the hundred of St. Briavels, should work there
a year and a day in one of the mines, and should abide
within the hundred. The miners, however, who have
an undoubted title to be called free, look with great
jealousy on those who are unable to show an hereditary
claim, and insist that in strictness it 1s necessary to
be the son of a free father. Every free miner, duly
qualified, claims the right to demand of the king’s
eaveller a gale, that is, a spot of ground in the’forest,
chosen by himself, for sinking a mine; and this, pro-
vided it does not interfere with the. works of any other
mine, the gaveller considers himself obliged to give,
receiving a fee of 5s., and inserting the name of the
free miner in the gale-book. The gaveller goes to the
spot selected, with the free miner making, the appli-
cation, and gives him possession with the following
ceremofiies: the gaveller cuts a stick, and; asking the
party how many verns, or partners, he has (generally
three in number), cuts a notch for each partner, and
one for‘the king; a turf.is then cut, and the stick
forked down by two other sticks, the turf put over it,
and the party galing the work is then considered to be
in full possession of the.mine. The right to the gale
carries with it a right to such timber as 1s necessary for
the use of the works, but such free miners as choose to
use the railroad’ through the forest are prohibited by
Act of Parliament from claiming any timber. The free
miner, having obtained possession of a gale, is coinpelled
to proceed with the work, by working one day, at least,
in the following year and a day, and a day in each sub-
sequent year and a day, otherwise he forfeits the gale,
and also to pay an annual sum of two guineas to the
vaveller for each vein of coal he intends to work, until
he gets at the coal, after which he agrees for the amount
of composition which is called the king’s gavel, to be
paid to the king in lieu of his one-fifth, that being the
proportion to which the crown is entitled, and which, in
case of non-agreement, must be taken in kind, the king
putting in a fifth man. This claim of the miners is
not only not limited to the open lands of the forest, but
extends over all enclosed lands in the hundred of
St. Briavels, except church lands: in case, however, of
such right being exercised, the proprietor of the surface
is let in as a partner: it is but seldom exercised, and
several of the landowners, more or less, dispute the
validity of it. The produce of the coal mines during
the last thirty years is estimated to have increased from
70,000 tons annually, to 200,000 tons, and the com-
position (no case of the crown being paid in kind
having occurred) for the king’s share of the produce of
the mines, and for the privilege of opening them, has
been raised from 225l., which was the amount in 1800,
to between 700/, and 800/., the receipts in 1829,
(To be continued.)
a a a a ae
#,* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledye is at
99, Lincoln’s Inn Fields.
LONDON: CHARLES KNIGHT & CO., 22, LUDGATE STREET.
Printed bv Winu1am Crowes and Sons, Stamford Street.
THE .P
INNY MAGAZINE
OF THE
Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge.
JDJ
BRITISH FISHERIES.—No.
PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY.
[June 10, 1887,
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[A Shrimper. ]
TuHeE shrimp (crangon vulgaris) belongs to the second
class of the third division of animated nature. The
third class is composed of the arachride, or spiders,
and the fourth of insects. There is nothing anomalous
in this arrangement, and if appears to be the most
natural order which could have been adopted. It is
true that there is not much resemblance between the
Speciinens which are to be found at opposite énds of
the order, but it may be traced froin one to another
util it will be clearly seen that they constitute links of
one unbroken chain. The second class of Cuvier’s
third order includes crustaceous animals, such as the
common crab, the common lobster, and the shrimp.
Their outer covering is composed of a hard substance,
as the word crustaceous implies. It is not so hard as
the shell of the tortoise, but sufficiently firm for animals
which chiefly pass their lives in the water. In the
shrimp the external covering: consists of a thin shell of
a green and. transparent colour, spotted with grey.
Between the head and the tail it is ee into six parts,
each of which works into the other like a coat of mail.
Hardness and flexibility are united, and the result is a
covering which defends the body without impeding its
VoL. VI.
motion. The tail is admirably adapted for propelling
the animal, and consists of a wing-like apparatus of
four parts, which can be folded.into a compact form
or extended at pleasure: ihe edges of each are fea-
thered, and those of the two outer parts are strengthened
by a spinous process carried alone the external] edge.
The four parts are surmounted by the horny and sharp-
pointed substance which terminates the body. The
head is provided with a pair cf antenne or feelers as
long as the body, and the two fore-legs are made to
supply the purposes of a hand, being furnished with a
jointed forceps for seizing its food. The next three
pair of legs are placed in the fore part of the body,
before the lamellated parts occur. Behind these are
five other pairs of legs, which are much shorter, and
diminish successively | in size; and they differ also from
the others in being fringed with bristles. ‘The eyes are
fixed at the termination rake a slight projection or tube.
The fore part of the head is furnished on each side with
a fan-like wing feathered on each side, transparent,
and capable by “the flexibility of its movements at the
joint of assisting powerfully in the acceleration of the
animal’s motions. ‘This description, though not suf-
218
ficiently minute for scientific purposes, may serve to
invite an investigation into the structure of the shrimp
during some of the occasions on which it is brought
under notice at table. When the ova of the female
are extruded, they are carefully preserved under the
abdomen. ‘They change theircolours as the period for
their vivification advances. .
There are but few facts recorded. by naturalists con-
cerning the habits of the shrimp; and this absence of
information ought to be regarded by those who enjoy
the ample opportunities which are presented by a resi-
dence on our coasts as rendering an investigation
more interesting. But that no means may be wanting:
by which to rouse the rambler on the sea-shore, we may
state that even the shrimp may come under his obser-
vation in a manner calculated to arouse some useful
thoughts and feelings, without the necessity of minutely
studying the curions and interesting conformation
of a single individual in order to obtain this effect.
The presence of masses, though composed of atoms
which, taken singly, would be treated with indifference,
is always striking and imposing to the most heedless
observer; and such a scene as the following, described
by Paley*, if it gives rise to reflections kindred to those
which he has expressed, will not have been witnessed
in vain. ‘* Walking,” says he, “‘ by the sea-side, in a
calm evening, upon a sandy shore, and with an ebbing
tide, [ have frequently remarked the appearance of a
dark cloud, or, rather, very thick mist, hanging over
the edge of the water, to the height, perhaps of half a
yard, and of the breadth of two or three yards, stretch-
ing along the coast as far as the eye could reach, and
always retiring with-the water. When this cloud came
to be examined, it proved to be nothing else than so
much space filled with youne shrimps, in the act of
bounding into the air from the shallow margin of the
water, or from the wet sand.” Paley adds—“ If any
motion of a mute animal could express delight, it was
this: if they had meant to make signs of their happi-
ness, they could not have done it more intellignibly.
Suppose, then, what I have no doubt of, each indi-
vidual of this number to be in a state of positive enjoy-
ment;—-what a sum, collectively, of @ratification and
pleasure have we here before our view ! +”
The mode of taking shrimps for food is with a net,
used either by a person who wades up to his knees in
water, or by fishermen who go out in a boat. Women
and even children may pursue the simpler plan. ‘The
mouth of the net is stretched out by a transverse piece
of wood, to which a pole is affixed, the end of which is
placed against the breast ; and in walking forward the
edge of the part to which the net is fastened-is pushed
alone the ground, and the shrimps, in endeavouring: to
escape, are caught in the bag of the net. ‘Lhe boats
which are used by the fishermen are sometimes of
several tons burden, and they proceed further from the
shore—to the edge, perhaps, of some sandbank which
is the great resort of shrimps. They throw out three
or four nets, which are made to drag on the bottom by
means of leaden weights; so that the principle of both
modes is the same. Shrimps are not edible until they
have been boiled, and the boat fishermen often boil
them on board. They are not allowed to boil longer,
nor, generally, so long as ten minutes, as they become
hard if allowed to remain a greater time, and the good-
ness of the flavour is also much diminished. When
shrimps are required for a distant market, it is neces-
* Paley’s ‘Natural Theology,’ by Lord Brougham and Sir C.
Bell, vol. ii, p. 113.
+ To these considerations it must be added, that the lives of
such animals may be only apparently short. If time is but the
suecession of ideas, then, as Soame Jenyns has observed, the in-
sect that flutters for a single summers day may in reality live as
long as the tortoise that breathes for a century.—Jdlusirative Notes
by Lord Brougham and Sir Charles Bell, —
“THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
[June 10,
sary to boil them somewhat longer than when they are
needed for immediate consumption. Hence they are
never so much relished as at the place where they are
caught, or within a certain distance of it. Their colonr
is changed by boiling to that which it bears when seen
on the fishmonger’s stall. Some of the shrimps are
brought to Billingsgate unboiled, but these form only a
small proportion. ‘The chief supply is obtained from
Gravesend, Lynn, Boston, Leieh, in Essex, the Isle of
Wight, and other places on the coast which are not so
remote from the metropolis as to render land carriage
too expensive. The Thames fishermen confine their
labours to that part of the river between Gravesend
and the Nore. ‘he shrimps of Pegwell Bay are con-
sidered as the best flavoured, and the preparers of.
potted shrimps profess to make use only of them.
Lhose brought from Leigh and Lynn are also in good
repute. ‘Their superiority is to be attributed to the
grounds which they frequent affording food of a better
kind. Spring is the busiest time for shrimp-catching ;
but they are in season during the whole of the year,
though the demand being greater at the above period,
a larger quantity is brought to market. After stormy
weather is considered an unfavourable time for taking
shrimps. Nothing can be more irregular than the
quantities caught, comparing’ one day with another.
The consequence is, that the supply of the market is
quite uncertain, and prices not much to be depended
upon. Shrimps are sold wholesale by the gallon, a
customary measure, which differs from the legal gallon.
Nearly the whole quantity brought to Billingseate
are conveyed by land carriage. ‘The vans leave the
fishing-towns on the coast in the afternoon or evening
or the day preceding, and bring a general supply of
fish of various kinds in readiness for the opening of
the market. The largest quantity of shrimps is pur-
chased by the small retail dealers; the principal fish-
mongers taking a smaller quantity than would seem te
be consistent with the general extent of their sales of
fish. ‘I'he reason, however, is, that shrimps are chiefly
consumed by the least wealthy part of the population,
at whose tables they are often to be found as the aec-
companiment of breakfast and tea; while, in the
ranks above them, the smaller quantity consumed is
In another shape and in smaller qnantities—in sauces
aud in a potted state. Shrimps are also consumed in
considerable quantities at the tea-gardens, and other
places to which the first-mentioned of the above classes
resort.
THE FOREST OF DEAN.
{Concluded from No, 332.) he "
Tae rights of the free miners appear originally to
have been strictly personal, but the incidents to their
qualifications have varied. Formerly none but free
ininers could hold a mine, eithey by transfer, descent,
devise, or in partnership; but more latterly mines have
heen alienated to foreigners, and free miners nominated
as their trustees, so that the names of foreigners should
not appear in the eale-book. ‘The ancient and strict
practice in this respect was also avoided by procuring
the foreigners purchasing mines to be made honorary
free miners. ‘he inabilitv of the free miners to apply
capital to the winning and working of the mines, in-
duced many foreigners to invest large sums of money
in them; and of late years most of the more extensive
works have by ahenation become vested, either wholly
or in part, in foreigners: and recent instances have oc=
curred of a free miner, in consideration of a small sum,
being employed by a foreigner to get a work e@aled to
him by name, in order to transfer it at once to the
foreigner. ‘The claims of the free miners to the exclu-
sive system of gales, and to be exclusively employed as
labourers in the mines, occasion constant and never-
Y
1837]
ending jealousy and dissatisfaction on their part, as the
foreign proprietors do not hesitate to employ foreign
labourers; and few of the free miners being actually
lit possession Of any subsisting work of importance, they
are thus unable to employ their free brethren who are
without work. These innovations on their ancient
customs have all been introduced since the discontinu-
ance of.the Mine Law Court, which carefully watched
and redressed all breaches of the laws and custoins, by
issuing injunctions under the homely names of “ for-
bids,’ and assessing damages on the transgressors.
The number of able-bodied free miners is probably
within 1500, each of whom inhabits a cottage of his
own. Under the old system of election laws they were
entitled to vote as freeholders for the county, but we
believe they have been disfranchised by a late decision
of the revising barrister.
Connected with the forest is the Court of St. Briavels,
which we have before alluded to; the jurisdiction of
which extends over the whole hundred, and takes cog-
nizance of all actions in the nature of debt and con-
tract, or for injury to personal property. It is held
before the constable of the castle of St. Briavels, or his
deputy, and a jury, which ought to be composed of
suitors to the king. The officer, whose duty it is to
summon a jury, in practice procures jurors with capa-
cities aud intellivence according to the nature of the
actions they have to decide; and not unfrequently
presses a Stranger, who is accidentally in tle way, into
the service of justice. The court is, however, not much
used in consequence of the expense of litigation in it,
and the delay occasioned by the mode of conducting
suits: none but attorneys regularly admitted into this
particular court are allowed to practise. There is a
prison connected with it for the confinement of debtors,
which consists of only one room in the old castle of
St. Briavels. ‘The eaoler appears to have great confi-
dence in his prisoners, particularly if they be foresters ;
he allows them the full range of the castle boundaries,
and even the privilege of visiting their friends.in the
neighbourhood. When he is absent from the prison
they are entirely uvg@uarded; even then he does not
consider it necessary for their safe custody to place them,
under the security: of lock and key. It is well under-'
stood, that if a forest prisoner were to escape, all the.
other foresters would make a point of finding him out,
and restore him to custody.
Until within the last twenty-five years, the Forest a
Dean was neither attached, for the purposes of spiritual
instruction, to any parish, nor had any places of worship
helongine to the established church within its limits ;
now, however, there are three churches, and those
portions of it lying nearest the adjoining parishes have
been placed under the care of the ministers of those
parishes. ‘The moral character of the inhabitants has
been very much improved since the erection of the
churches; heinous crimes, which were of frequent oc-
eurretice before, are now rarely heard of in the forest;
and the poorer ‘classes begin, more and more, to fallow
the courteous and hospitable example set them by those
who are elevated above them. ‘The absence of poor-
laws in the forest. has had a tendency to support tlie
naturally independent spirit of the foresters, who, being
only a few degrees removed from want, are obliged, in
their present condition, to struggle against distress ;
and doubtless the introduction of poor-laws would im-
mediately beget, in Some quarters, pauperisin and its
attendant evils. So independent a spirit have the
foresters, that there is a great backwardness amonest
thei to seek relief, even in the times of distress. The
clergvmen of the newly-erected churches endeavoured
to introduce the national day and Sunday-school ; the
pareuts, however, of the children did not sufficiently
appreciate the advantages of education, and as thie
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
219
novelty ceased, the attendance was so much lessened,
and so irregular, that some of the day-schools have
been for years discontinued. The scattered state of
the population, their poverty, and the distance from
the places of tuition, have also caused-~the Sunday-
schools to be thinly attended. Great difference of
opinion exists in the neighbourhood as to the propriety
of parochialisine the forest, and introducing’ poor-laws;
but the general feeling appears desirous of preserving
so singular a relic of “antiquity as the forest exhibits in
all its. purity, so far as can be done consistently with
the advance of the inhabitants, and the general im-
provement of society.
THE ST. LAWRENCE AND QUEBEC.
Tue ascent of the river St. Lawrence, from the sea to
Qnebec and Montreal, though far from being devoid of
interest, is tedious. ‘The river, at its entrance, is from
90 to 100 miles wide; and its appearance for some
time is more like the ocean than an estuary. Its
waters are salt for upwards of 300 miles; and they are
brackish to within 20 miles of Quebec, which is nearly
400 miles from the sea. ‘*'Though,” says the authoress
of the ‘ Backwoods of Canada,’ in describing her voyage
up the St. Lawrence in 1832, “I cannot but dwell with
feelings of wonder and admiration on the majesty and
power of this mignty river, f begin to grow weary of
its immensity, and lone for a nearer view of the shore;
but at preseut we see nothing more than long lines of
pine-clad hills, with here and there a white speck,
which they tell me are settlements and villages to the
south, while huge mountains divested of verdure bound
our view on. the north side of the river. During: the
last two days we have been anxiously looking out for a
pilot to take us up to Quebec. Various signals have
been fired, but hitherto without success; no pilot has
condescended to visit us, so we are somewhat in the
-condition of a stage without a coachman, with only
———
some inexperienced hand to hold.the reins. I already,
perceive some manifestations of Impatience appearing
among.us.; but noone blames the captain, who is very
auxious about. the matter, as the river is full of rocks
and shoals, and presents many difficulties to a person
not intimately acquainted with the navigation. .....
As we advance higher up the river, the country on both
sides begins to assume a more genial aspect. Patches
of verdure, with white cottages, are seen on the shores
and scattered along the sides of the mountains; while
here and there a, village church rears its simple spire,
distinguished above the surrounding buildings by its
elittering vane and bright roof of tin. ‘The southern
shores are, more populous, but. less picturesque, than
those of the north; but there 1s enough on either side
to delight the eye *,”
From, the tediousness. of the silent and the circum-
stance that the.navigation of the St. Lawrence is open
for only about seven or eight months of the year, people
on business and emigrants proceeding to the British set-
tlements in America, to whom time is of more compa-
rative importance than expense, generally prefer sailing
to New York, and -passing from thence into Canada.
The emigrant, however,, to whom, every shilling is an
object, and. who wishes. to escape the unpacking of
his baggage at New: York, and the payment of Cus-
tom- eo duties, must be content to encounter the
tedionsness of the sail up the river. If his vessel hap-
pen to meet a favourable breeze, the voyage may not,
after all, be tedious; and if the ship is bound to Mont-
real, which is 180- miles higher tham Quebec, and up
to whieh vessels of 600 tons can sail, the aid of steam
may be called in at Quebec, and the Path tinder of the
* © Backwoods of Canada,’ by .the wife of an emigrant officer,
—*‘ Library of Entertaining Knowledge,’
2 2
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
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[Cape Diamond and the Lower Town of Quebec. ]
voyage be rendered as agreeable as river scenery and
rapid motion can make it.
At Grosse Isle, twenty-five miles below Quebec, the
St. Lawrence is about ten miles wide; but it is wider
a mile or two higher up, where the centre of the chan-
nel is occupied by the island of Orleans. This island
is about eighteen miles long, and five broad, and is
well cultivated.” Having cleared it, the river is seen to
contract to about a mile in width, rushing from between
steep and rocky banks, its course being broken, and its
channel divided, by the island which has just: been
passed. Here Quebec appears in view, with its bold
and glittering headland, called Cape Diamond, so
termed from the circumstance that crystals of quartz,
frequently very pure and regularly formed, are found
in it, between the layers of slaty rock on its brow *.
Quebec has a grand appearance from the river. The
lower town occupies a narrow space between the water's
edge and the foot of the rock; the upper town occupies
its summit, which is also covered with the far-famed
fortifications of the city. But the feeling of admiration
which the view from the river has excited is consider-
ably diminished on landing in the lower town. The
Streets, or rather lanes, are narrow, crowded, inconve-
* Professor Silliman tells the following incident which occurred
to him while hunting after these crystals. “ As I was hammer-
ing,” says he, * upon a rock to which I had chmbed, so far up
one of the precipices that I was above the chimneys of the houses
in the contiguous parts of the lower town, a man came running
out, and with a French accent, and much vehement gesture and
expostulation, conjured me to desist, unless I meant to bury him
and his house in ruins, by causing the rocks to fall. I saw no
danger, as the rocks appeared tolerably firm, but of course de-
sisted and came down. Indeed so large a number of the houses
in the lower town are built against the foot of the precipice, or
near it, that the rocks look as if they might at any time fall and
crush them,”
nient, and dirty ; during the summer, the harvest-time
of the trade and commerce of the place, there is an
meessant clamour, in which French and English are
intermingled, carmen and porters jolt each other, or
knock the idler out of their way, and he who has no
business to transact at merchants’ offices, or at @ranaries
or stores, had better not delay his visit to the upper
town, lest the admiration with which he viewed Quebec
from the river give place to a very different feeling.
But the upper town, and the views from the rock,
will, in some measure, compensate for the annoyances
of the lower town. Below lies the lower town, its
houses huddled together, but their tin roofs glittering
In the sun; opposite is Point Levi, the rocky, pre-
cipitous banks covered with wood, out of which the
village spire, also covered with tin, shoots up, giving
a picturesque effect to the scenery; between the shores
ply the ferry-boats; the harbour full of shipping, with
steam-boats arriving and departing; the St. Lawrence
spreads out before the eye to a great distance, and
rushing round the island of Orleans in separate chan-
nels; above the city the elevated table-land, so well
known as the Plains of Abraham, skirted by the fine
river St. Charles, which falls into the St. Lawrence
below Quebec; the distant country studded with cot-
tages and villages, and the stupendous fortifications
immediately around, which, even indifferently defended,
would seem to mock the efforts of an enemy to master
them. All this, however, must be enjoyed in the sum-
mer—the country has another, though to some minds,
perhaps, not less grand appearance, when under the
influences of frost and snow.
“The river is considered tu be just a mile across from
Point Levi to the landing-stairs below the Custom
House ‘in Quebec; and it was a source of amusement
1837.]
to me to watch the horse ferry-boats that ply between
the two shores. The captain told me that there were
not less than twelve of these comical-looking machines.
They have each their regnlar hours, so that you see a
constant succession voing or returning. ‘They carry a
strange assortment of passengers, well and ill dressed,
old and young, rich and poor; cows, sheep, horses,
pigs, dogs, fowls, market-haskets, vegetables,’ fruit,
hay, corn, anything and everything you will see by
turns. The boat is flat, railed round with wicker at
each end to admit the live and dead stock that go or
are taken on board; the centre of the boat (if such it
ean be called) is occupied by fonr lean, 1l-favoured
hacks, who walk round and round, as if in a threshing-
machine, and work the paddles at each side. ‘There
is a sort of pen for the cattle *.” : :
Quebec, as a city, has nothing to attract the atten-
tion of a visiter familiar with any of the large cities of
Kurope. The public buildings are not remarkable
enough to call for particular attention. As the seat of
the government. and legislature of Lower Canada, the
city is a place of somé importance; and the emigrant,
or visiter, who has not adverted much to the circum-
stance of Canada having been originally settled by the
French, and who is thinking more of the country as a
British colony, and to which British emigration ts fast
flowing, will at first be surprised by the French aspect
of the place. The English language more generally
prevails among what may be termed the higher classes,
—the officers of government, a portion of the members
of the legislature, and the merchants ;—the French, or
rather a corrupt kind of French, in which English
werds are found, is spoken chiefly by the working
population. ‘The e@reat bulk of the inhabitants of
Lower Canada profess the Roman Catholic faith.
‘* Canada was first discovered by John and Sebas-
tian Cabot, in 1497. In 1525 it was visited by Vera-
zani, a Florentine, who took possession of the country
for the King of France. In°1535 Jacques Cartier,
bearing a commission from the French king, explored
the river St. Lawrence, which he so called from his hav-
ing first entered it on St. Lawrence's Day; but it was
not until 1608 that the first permanent settlement, of
which there is any record as having been made by
Europeans on the continent of North America, was
formed by the French under Champlain, on the spot
now occupied by the city of Quebec. Settlements had
been made about 1604, or the year following, under
erants of Henry IV. of France, near the river St. Croix,
and at Port Royal; but these settlements were broken
up in L614, owing to a successful attack upon them by
Sir Samnel Argal. Quebec surrendered to the Eng-
lish under Kirk, in 1629, but was immediately restored
to France, peace having been established with that
country in April of that year. In 1663 the colony was
constituted a royal government, and the governors were
thenceforth appointed by the king. Canada continued
a possession of France until 1759, in which year Quebec
was taken by General Wolfe, and the province was
ceded in full sovereienty to Great Britain by. the treaty
of Paris, in 1763+.”
Wolfe made an unsuccessful attempt on the heights
of Montmorenci before he tried the Plains of Abraham.
The heights of Montmorenci are several miles below
Quebec; here the Montmorenci, a mountain stream of
considerable size, in joining the St. Lawrence, leaps
down a rock upwards of 200 feet high, and forms a
cascade at once singular and beautiful. Having lost
from 500 to 600 of the flower of his army in attempt-
ing the heights of Montmorenci, Wolfe desisted; and
sailing past Quebec, he landed at a little indentation
* © Backwoods of Canada.’
¢ ‘Penny Cyclopedia,’ Vol. VII., Article Canapa.
THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 221
now known as Wolfe's Cove. ‘The banks at this spot
are rocky and precipitous. ‘* About an hour after
nuidnight,” says Mr. Duncan, a traveller who visited
Quebec some years ago, .the “ troops scrambled up the
woody brow of the hill, by a narrow path, which ever
now, and in good daylight, would seem to present
sufficient difficulties to a pretty zealous mineralogist.
Having succeeded in gaining the heights [their sum-
mit presents a tolerably level plain, about a mile in
width near Quebec], he formed his troops and awaited
the attack of Montcalm, who collected his forces and
marched against him about ten o’clock in the forenoon.
The result is memorable—both the commanders fel] ;—
the French were defeated ;—and, on the sixth day after,
Quebec capitulated.”
** It is somewhat remarkable,” continues Mr Dun-
can, “‘ that no monument has been erected at Quebec
to the memory of Wolfe. There is, indeed, a small
wooden figure, in a niche at the corner of one of the
Streets of the upper town, attired in a broad-skirted
scarlet coat and cocked hat; but it is a miserable at-
tempt at sculpture, and would hardly be allowed to
pass as a figure-head for a collier.” A monument has
since been erected in the governor's garden, looking
towards the St. Lawrence, and to be seen from Point
Levi. ‘ Lord Dalhousie, with equal. good taste and
eood feeling, has united the names of the rival heroes,
Wolfe and Montcalm, in the dedication of the pillar—
‘a liberality of feeling that cannot but prove gratifying
to the Canadian French, while it robs the British hero
of none of his glory.” The monument is an obelisk,
erected at the expense of Lord Dalhousie, while governor
of Lower Canada”*.
The fortifications of Quebec have cost the British
government an enormous sum of money, and even yet
the original plan is not completed. ‘They are consi-
dered as impregnable on all sides, except that which
looks towards the Plains of Abraham. ‘“ The wails
are so high that escalade is hopeless—so thick, that a
breach seems impracticable; and while Britain retains
its naval superiority in the river, blockade is ont of the
question. The length and severity of the winter also
acts as a powerful auxiliary, for field operations could
scarcely then be carried on.”
Viewing Quebec as a commercial city (keeping out
of view its character as the seat of government) it is
secondary to Montreal, and acts to it in somewhat the
same capacity that Gravesend does to London, or as
Greenock to Glasgow. The great body of emigrants
who arrive by the river St. Lawrence are bound, gene-
rally, for the upper parts of Lower Canada, or for
Upper Canada; and a large portion of the shipping
passes upwards to Montreal.
SAVAGES IN FRANCE,
A RECENT French scientific journal presents a curious
detail of the habits and manners of a set of men, natives
of France, whom the writer calls, properly enough,
demi-sauvages ; and he remarks on the curiosity which
leads Europeans to journey to great distances, in order
to study extraordinary races of mankind, while at home
they have in the midst of their own civilized commu-
nities, classes of men equaily extraordinary, whose
peculiarities are wholly unknown. ‘The author of the
account is of opinion that France is not the only coun-
try in Europe possessing such savages within her borders,
and is convinced that her neighbours might find in their
more remote corners, many bodies of men equally wild
in their habits. This appears somewhat doubtful, at
least with reeard to this country; we will say nothing
* ¢ Backwoods of Canada,’ p. 27
of Italy or Germany, but we think it would be difficult
to find in any part of England a set of men so wholly
uncultivated as those described by him.
These half-savages live in the south-eastern extre-
mity of France, near to the Italian frontier, more than
half surrounded by the Mediterranean. ‘There is little
trafic through their country, the only large road in the
department, which leads from Marseilles to Antibes,
passing northward of the tract inhabited by them, and
having no brauches of any magnitude through it.
Their only occupation, beyond that of cultivating a
little ground, or keeping goats, is charcoal-burning, a
trade which seems on the continent to be almost entirely
abandoned to the more uncivilized portion of the com-
munity.
The huts of these people are built of either mud or
stones; the construction is as coarse and clumsy as
can be imagined, and they have only one apartment.
There is, however, a semblance of division; the floor
is narked off into three distinct compartments, one of
which may be termed the parlour, another the bed-
room, and the third is the stable. The parlour is pro-
vided with a couple of stones, which serve as a fire-
place ;. three or four larger stones are the seats of the
inhabitants, and in a few huts, better furnished, logs of
wood are found serving them for this purpose. ‘There
is no chimney, but only a hole in the roof to let out
the smoke. The middle division of the floor is the
bed-room; it is strewed with straw or dried leaves,
which are very rarely changed; and upon this couch
the whole family,, father, mother, and children, sleep
promiscuously. But the luxury of a roof is enjoyed
only in the winter; during summer all the population
sleep without any covering; and to very many the
bed-room is wholly superfluous, as they invariably
sleep in the open air, whatever may be the degree of
cold, or inclemency of the weather. ‘The third division
is appropriated to the asses, who are under sufficient
discipline not to cross over the line of demarcation,
which divides their apartment from that of their
inaslers,
These people are as unaccustomed to cleanliness as
they are to luxury; their dwellings, as well as their
persons, are disgustingly dirty; their ragged hair hanes
in thick masses over their shoulders, and their beards
are never touched until their length becomes inconve-
nient, when a knife or other cutting instrument is em-
ployed to remove the superfinity. Their dress is of
coarse stuff, fashioned with little care. ‘* I saw,” says
the writer, ‘ one of ‘these men on a market-day at
Fréjus, go to the stall of a cloth merchant, and pur-
chase a piece of coarse stuff; he then with a knife
which hung at his girdle made two great holes in it,
through which he thrust his arms, and then fastened
this grotesque tunic by the help of two large wooden
skewers.”
During the summer these people generally take their
rest in -the daytime; they may be occasionally seen on
the top of a frowning rock, snpported by a great stick,
covered up with skins, and perfectly immovable. Their
nights are. passed in the woods among the rocks, euard-
ing their goats from the attacks of wolves, which are
humerous in these forests: their shrill and savage cries
frequently terrify the timid stranger who may have
occasion to pass through this wild country.
They appear to have but few ideas, as might be
expected from men utterly without any sort of education..,
When addressed by strangers at fairs or other places
where their necessities compel them to’ resort, their
reply is ves or no, or still more frequently a gesture
expressive of impatience, or else an idiot stare. Among
themselves they rarely converse; a gloomy silence pre-
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
[June 10,
only by the sharp cries and howlings in which they
seem to take delight.
‘These people are not accused of ferocity, nor do they
appear to molest in any way their civilized neighbours,
or the strangers whom chance may bring amongst them ;
they are merely ignorant, and that not only of such
culture as is imparted by instruction, but as a conse-
quence of their position, of even such information as
the most uneducated man must acquire who lives
ainonest those who are more fortunate. But these men
have had the advantage of neither precept nor example.
The only ideas they retain of anything beyond their
immediate wants, are a belief of a number of ridiculous
omens, such as a few centuries ago were almost uni-
versally received, but which are now worn out every-
where, except among those who have receded from
civilization.
The account from which we draw our information,
states that some little moral improvement is taking
place amongst these men, from the benevolent exertions
of the neighbouring curates ; a chapel or two has sprung
up here and there on the borders, and some few are
induced to attend to the instruction communicated in
them ; by snch means, on a more extended scale, aided
by the formation of roads through the country, these
people may probably be soon brought to a state of
civilization, and France will throw off the reproach of
possessing inhabitants so much depressed below the
oeneral standard of European cultivation.
ADVENTURES IN EGYPT AND SYRIA.
(Concluded from No. 332.)
His Conprrron aS a Cuisookst or Pips-BEARER TO A TURKISH
Orricer. lis Re.bas—E FROM SLAVERY AND ReETURN To
CHRISTENDOM.
‘ SotyMAn AGA, my new master, sent for me, and gave
me a fan made of ostrich feathers to drive the flies from
him, and cool him at meals. ‘There were five other
officers beside Solyman Aga that messed together, and
who could speak very little Arabic, but I found their
manners much more polite and genteel than any of the
natives; they were also cleanlier both in their cooking
and eating; using spoons, but neither knife nor fork.
They drink nothing but water with their meals; but
after their repast they retire with their companions to
a separate room, and there indulge in drinking the
strongest liquors, but never take any before their ser-
vants. After being here a few days, Solyman sent for
me, saying I was to follow him on horseback when he
rode out, also giving me the care of four large pipes, the
stems of which were at least two vards and a half lone,
and his tebaeco bag. With these I was to follow him
either on horseback or on foot, and always be in
attendance to lieht his pipe when he wanted it: he alsu
named me Assau Bendler, not knowing I had already
been christened Ragib Achmet by the Arabs, and I
did not think it necessary to acquaint him. He also
instructed me in the Turkish prayers, and occasionally
sent me to the bagnios, or vapour baths, attended by
two soldiers to guard me. It is hardly credible the
attention they pay to you at these baths: first they nn-
dressed me in a room, tying a towel round my iniddle,
then led me to the inner room, where they made all my
joints snap by rubbing me with a mohair-bag about the
size of aman’s hand, which takes away all uncleanliness
from perspiration; then washed me with warm and
afterwards cold water, covered me with a dry cloth, and.
led me baek to the first room, and laid me upor a hed,
dnd whilst one person was wiping my body, another
was rubbing my feet with a puinice stone; all this was
done for the trifling sum of 40 paras, about 18d, ster-
valls in their dwellings and in their forests, interrupted |,ling. I found so: much benefit from these baths, that
1S37.]
I requested leave to go to them twice a week, which
my master granted. After having been about two
mouths with bim, he wished me to be dressed.in the
Mameluke manner, which was a much lighter dress
and richer than my former; he also gave me a poniard,
which f was always to wear when I went out with him.
He told me that he expected soon to return to Constan-
tinople, and wonid take me along with him. I was
very glad to hear this, as I was in hopes when T arrived
there to meet with some Christian minister to apply to
for my freedom. He wished me to undergo the opera-
tion of circumcision, as he said no one could be a good
Mussulman without it.
telling him they were very painful, bnt that at a future
period I would comply with his request, he gave me to
understand, by a native, that if [refused to become a
Turk, he would tic me in a bag and throw me into the
river Nile. This gave me great uneasiness, as I
thought to myself that I certainly should lose my life if
[ did not comply with his request. I therefore prayed
to the Almighty to be merciful to me, and assist me in
this time of. trial, determining within myself to follow
the Christian religion. Solyman Aga said nothing
more about it for some time; he still continued to take
me with him when he went on his visits. Sometimes
he had parties to dinner; their victuals are served up
in large copper dishes, tinned inside; they use no
plates, but every one helps himself out of the common
dish with a spoon, and they have but two or three dishes
brought in at a time. ‘They have neither table nor
table-cloth, but each person has a napkin. A piece of
leather is spread on the floor, which they all sit upon
with their legs across, and the morsels tliat occasionally
drop on the leather are taken care of and given to the
poor. The rooms are generally spacious, with carpets
at the extremities of them, and cushions to rest them-
selves upon. The only ornaments they have in the
rooms are warlike instruments of different descriptions
hung in different parts. Abont a month had expired
when Solyman Aga sent for me, and claimed the per-
formance of my promise: not knowing any probable
mode of escaping, [ consented, but with considerable
apprehension, which displeased him very much. ‘The
operator arrived and produced his instruments, which
totally took away the fear of death, and made me deter-
mine to object to the operation. This refusal put
Solyman Aga into a violent rage, and he abused ine
very much in his own language, ordering me to strip
off the clothes he had given me, and eiving me a suit
much inferior. Now once more I found myself very
uncomfortably situated; having lost the friendship I
had gained, the whole household despised me; as they
passed me they made signs, giving me to understand
that if I did not become a Mussulinan, I should have
my head taken off. In this miserable state I did not
reinain long, the Almighty being merciful and hear-
ing my prayers, and I was soon delivered from the
hands of those Turks. One of the officers belonging
to Solyman Aea being taken ill of a disorder, it was
thought necessary to consult a European doctor, and
to my great astonishment I recollected him to have
been in Bonaparte’s army. J approached the doctor,
and addressed him by his naine, but he had no recol-
lection of me. [told him my name, and in whose ser-
vice I had been; he seemed greatly astonished, as he
had heard Colonel Broune say many times that I had
been killed. I then acquainted him ‘how I came in my
present situation, and how cruelly they had used me.
He then asked meif I had changed my religion; |
replied no, but that FE expected every moment to be
forced to do so. ‘This gentleman filled my heart with
rapture, saying that if I could keep myself from doing
so for twenty-four hours, he would apply to the grand
Showime him my wounds, and.
THE PENNY MAGAZINE. Y23
vizier for my liberty, he being under his protection.
The twenty-four hours had not expired before this
hnmane gentleman came with a Turkish officer, and a
letter from the grand vizier for Solyman Aga. After
reading the contents, and finding it was for my liberty,
his countenance instantly changed with a sangninary
look both at the gentleman and myself. I expected
every moment my head would be separated from my
shoulders, but his passion by degrees subsided, and at
length, by the interference of the officer who brought
the vizier’s letter, he consented that I shonld go, but
not util he was repaid the sum he had given for me,
which the gentleman immediately paid to Solyman
Aga, who also made him pay for the clothes I had on,
after which the Turkish officer took my hand and con-
ducted me to this gentleman's house in safety, when I
thought myself to be once more the happiest nan living.
The gentleman made me take off the Turkish dress,
and eave me some of his own. I then related to him
all the dangers and hardships I had undergone during
the fourteen months I was with the Arabs, and five
months with the ‘Turks.
“This gentleman’s name was Meyer; he was apothe-
cary to Bonaparte’s army in Egypt, and by some sin-
oular cireamstance, when the French army left Meypt,
he thought proper to stay in the country; and when
the grand vizier and his army entered Grand Cairo,
Monsienr Meyer put himself under the protection of the
erand vizier; he was aman of great ability and skill.
This gentleman, from his profession, wa3 often visited
by the Turkish officers. Although he had constantly
a guard at his house, yet I was fearful that some of the
Turkish officers that knew me might call upon him
and see me, by which means [ might occasion some
trouble to him. I therefore asked my benefactor if he
had any objection to let me go to Gaza or Ghizeh,
where the English were, telling him that I should then
be under no apprehension of the Turks. He asked me
if my intentions were to return to Europe. I replied
that I wished if possible to go there. He was then so
kind as to give me a certificate, stating that I had
been delivered from the Ottomans, at the same time
bountifully giving me a purse, containing some Vene-
tian ducats, and made me pass in disguise ina boat
by a canal that runs into the river Nile, and thence
over to Gaza or Ghizeh. On my arrival there I im-
mediately went to the Commander in Chief* of the
English army, who I learned had just arrived there
from India, and acquainted him with my misfortunes,
at the same time showing him the certificate Monsieur
Meyer had given me, requesting a pass to go down to
Rosetta, which he said I should have, and go by the
earlest opportumty. During my stay there, I accom-
panied several Enelish officers of the 10th, 80th, and
S8th regiments to view the pyramids of Ghizeh, as I
was acqnainted with the place, and also knew the
Arabian language.
“ We took a boat, with four natives, and went down
a canal which ran within about a mile of the pyramids,
where we landed, and walked up to those enormous
bnildines: The officers wished to go inside of them;
T accordingly sent two of the natives first to see if there
were any wild beasts; on their return, finding no
danger, we lighted some candles which we had taken
with us, and after a little difficulty we came into a wide
space of a room, where we saw several naines cul in the
* This was Major-General Sir David Baird, who was sent from
Bombay to support the expedition from England under the com-
mand of Sir Ralph Abercrombie. - The forces from India which
came into Egypt by way of the Red Sea and the Desert, had no
opportunity of distinguishing themselves in the field, as the French
army was pretty well disposed of before their arrival ; but the
conception was a bold one, and was carried into effect with great
judgment and skill.
224
stone, of different nations; and after having seen the
interior, we came out, and proposed going to the top
wf them. We ascended them by steps, which are very
tee} at the bottom, and decreasing as you approach
ine top. On the top there is a level space, about thirty
feet square; also three lar@e stones, covered with dif-
ferent persons’ names, to which we added ours. Here
you have a most delightful prospect of a rich and fertile
country: fields of corn, cotton, rice, tobacco, sugar-
cane, Indian corn, date-trees, interspersed with lakes.
After gratifying ourselves with this delightful prospect,
we descended, and measured the base of this pyramid
with a line, and to the best of ‘my recollection it was
between 600 and 700 feet square*. ‘There were also
two other pyramids, but we could find no means of
fetting to the top, or into the interior. ‘There are
also several tombs near this place, which the French
searched during their stay in Eeypt. After viewing
everything within two miles round these pyramids we
returned to Ghizeh by the same conveyance we came
by: this canal is only passable two months in the
vear, it being almost dry, except at the overflowings
of the Nile, which begin in June. In July, 1801, an
opportunity offered for me to go to Rosetta by a
Nile-boat, which was Joaded with provisions for the
English garrison at that place. I accordingly em-
barked, with three or four English gentlemen, and
sailed down the rwer; and in a few days we came to
a village called Foowa, on the borders of the Nile, in
the Delta. We found a few scattered ‘Turks about this
village; my companions were very desirous of going to
the village of Mencoof, or Menocef, lying a small dis-
tance from Foowa; we accordingly set out, and were
received by a few Armenians, who spoke French; they
were very civil, and entertained us with some coffee and
a few pipes of tobacco. After this we returned to onr
craft, and continued our course towards Rosetta, which
we soon reached.
‘* During my stay at Rosetta [ found it was considered
one of the most healthy places in Egypt; and itis a
very great place for traffic. Here you have everything
in abundance, and as cheap as in any part of Egypt.
They have a great quantity of different sorts of nish,
which are principally caught in a lake that lies between
Rosetta and Bequier, about sixteen miles from Alexan-
dria. The orados and mullet are most esteemed by the
natives; they take the roes out of the mullet, salt and
dry them, and carry on a very beneficial trade with the
adjoining places. In Rosetta you are much tormented
by flies and mosgnitos; but the opposite side, which is
the Delta, is free from these insects, and is the most
beantiful and pleasant country throughout Egypt. I
had been at Rosetta about a month or six weeks when
an opportunity offered by sea, as the English troops
were going to Alexandria, at which place we arrived in
about twenty hours. I found the English troops were
encamped about two miles from the town. In the
town | found several of my countrymen (Italians), who
had resided there for a length of time as merchants. I
made myself known to them, and related my misfor-
tunes. They felt pity and raised a subscription for me,
and I was to go to Europe by the first opportunity ;
but, soon after this, hearing my benefactor, M. Meyer,
had arrived from Cairo, I immediately went to him, and
was very glad to see him; but he was quite surprised
to see me in the country. I stayed with him in Alex-
andria about two months, when he informed me he was
going back to Cairo, having undertaken to make gun-
powder for the Turkish army; and was extremely sorry
T could not accompany him. I should have been very
glad to have gone with him had it been to any other
* The real measurement of the great pyramid, at the base, is
746 English feet square. The height is 461 feet.
-THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
[June 10, 1837,
part of the world; but when I considered of going
among the Turks again it totally took my inclination
away, therefore [ remained at Alexandria.
** After M. Meyer left Alexandria T had an offer
made me to set up a coffee-honse for the accommoda-
tion of the British oficers. I then waited upon Colonel
Balfour, the commander of Alexandria, to get his per-
mission, which he readily gave; and I took a house
which, a few weeks before, had been occupied as a
play-house by the English. I lost no time in putting
the place in proper order. I had two billiard-tables,
and did very well for several months.”
[The rest of Cavaliero’s adventures have no parti-
cular interest. After building a wooden coffee-house
for the English officers in garrison at Alexandria,
“upon a spot within about sixty yards of Pompey’s
Pillar,’ and keeping that place of entertainment for
some time, he was induced by circumstances to go to
Malta, whence he shortly afterwards sailed for Eng-
land. We have taken no liberty with his manuscript
beyond that of selection, and the correcting of a few
merely clerical errors. |
Road to Groden.—At an early hour of the morning we
set forth in a carriage for Steg, a small place on the Eisack.
Here the miller supplied us with strong horses, accustomed
to climbing mountaius, and we rode up the steep mountain-
path towards Vols. * * * A new world here opens to
our view, surprising us the more, because the traveller on
the post road. below, as he passes along the natural por-
phyry columns, apparently ‘“ toppling to their fall,” dreams
not of its existence. An extensive plain, broken by hills,
thick set with villages and churches, traversed by roads,
hes before us, and only here and there, where a mountain-
torrent plunges desperately into the Eisack, do we distin-
guish that river, like a silver riband, the white road, which
follows all its most capricious windings, glittering by its
side; the overhanging split, burst, broken porphyry that
borders it.on both sides, and renders the Kunsterweg so
notorious for insecurity, looks from above like an elegantly-
turned red-lackered pedestal, destined to support a beautiful
toy, a landscape en relief. . At every step we climb new
beauties unfold themselves on the opposite mountain-ridge.
A curtain ts drawn up from before our eyes; the Ritten and
iis magnificent Alps, the handsome villas of the Botzen
merchants, the grand wooded heights above them, and,
rising over all, the chain of the Mendola, the mountains of
Val di Non, the craggy Tobal, the rocks-of the Vinischgan,
and the glaciers of the Orteles, on which hang dark clouds.
Such is the road to Groden. * * * We were indulged
with one further glimpse of retired hamlets beyond fruitful
fieids; then the woods received us, and in their recesses
the path became more difficult, more broken; hidden waters
roared, solitary birds carolled, occasionally a shot was fired,
a cry rang; and whenever I raised my eyes I saw the lofty
peaks of the picturesque and enormous Schlern towering
high above the giant forest trees. Our quarters for the
night were at the Ratzes bath-house. There is something
very original about tllese Tyrolese watering-places ; indeed,
it is peculiar to the natives of this country to possess, even
as invalids, the energy requisite to reach them. For those
who can neither walk nor ride a Bandl is provided: this
is a sort of carriage, running upon two fore-wheels, the place
of the hind-wheels being supplied by blocks of wood, that
drag along the ground, and prevent its roliing resistlessly
and precipitately down-hill. The seat is cushioned with
feather beds, which cannot save the occupant from jolts and
thumps unnumbered. * * * We find here a chalybeate
and a sulphureous spring, excellent drinking water, and
the finest trout. Roulette and Faro are, indeed, wanting,
and the Wisbaden toilets are more elegant; but Ratzes is
more shady and more sublime.—Lewald's Tyrol and the
Tyrolese.
*,* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Kuowledye is at
59, Lincoln’s Inn Fields,
— = 2p
LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT & CO., 22, LUDGATE STREET.
Printed by Witttam Crowss and Sons, Stamford Sireet.
THE PENNY \
IAGAZIN E
OF THE
society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge.
* 34.)
MASSACRE
PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY.
[June 17, 1837.
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Raiiammaed Ali witnessing the iledcre is the Mamelukes. ]
MouAMMED Att, the existing ruler of Egypt, is alto-
wether a very remarkable man. He came into Egypt
at the beginning of the present century,—a mere sol-
dier of fortune; and gradually raised himself until
he was made Pasha, and then he strugeled to render
himself altowether independent of the Sultan, in which
he finally succeeded. His career, as might be ex-
pected, has not been unstained by crime. But making
every allowance for his rude untaught character, and
his position, it must be admitted that he has done not
a little for the civilization of the country over which
he rules; and, like his former master, the Sultan,
deserves to be ranked amonest those bold innovators
who give a new direction to the habits and manners
of a people.
Mohammed Ali converses freely with European tra-
vellers (of whom great numbers now visit Egypt)
respecting his progress in life. To Dr. Hoge, who
had an interview with him on the 18th of June, 1832,
he said, alluding to the commencement of his military
career, ‘that then “he had not even an attendant to
light his pipe for him.” He came into Egypt, he added,
a mere unprotected soldier, with nothing but his sword
and his courage to Peirientt him ;—for he had not even
secured the support of an influential patron in the
Vou, VI.
supreme divan at Constantinople, an advantage which
those sent to distant countries generally take care to
obtain. His ambition at that time did not aspire to a
very high grade; but by taking advantage of circum-
stances as they arose, and judiciously managing’ the
various classes of men with whom he had to deal, he
had gradually, and by his own efforts, raised himself to
the station he now filled.
Mr. St. John, who had an interview with him on
November 21, 1832, says, that the Pasha told him he
was composing his autobiography. In speaking about
it, he ‘*seemed to feel unusual enthusiasm. He sat
more upright than before; his features grew highly
animated ; he smiled, and appeared, for the moment,
to contemplate with pride the elevation on which for-
tune had placed him. I observed, however, that in the
enumeration of his achievements, no mention was made
of the destruction of the Ma’malooks. Doubtless, as
he ran back over the track of memory, the recollection
of that bloody day presented itself among his brighter
reminiscences,—like Satan among the sons of God;
and conscience, may, moreover, have whispered that
his hearers also remembered the event: but pleasurable
feeling predominated, and gaiety sparkled in his eyes.’
The Mamelukes presented one of the greatest
aG
226
obstacles to the consolidation of Mohammed Ali’s
power in Egypt; he therefore resolved on a scheme
for their destruction, which, though successful, was at
once treacherous anc ferocious. He invited those of
the body who were living in the neighbourhood of
Cairo to be present at a grand festival to be given on
the Ist of March, 1811, in honour of his son’s being
invested with the command of an expedition against
Mecca. ‘l’o this ceremony all the Mamelukes repaired ;
and when they were within the gates of the Pasha’s
castle, which were closed on them, a shower of musketry
was poured down upon them, from which they had no
means of escaping. ‘The wood-cut representing this
scene is taken from a lithograph (after a desien by the
celebrated Horace Vernet) in Count Forbin’s ‘ Voyage
dans le Levant,’ in 1817 and 1818. The following is
the Count’s description of the scene :—
‘That audacious militia, the Mamelukes, which,
since the time of Malek Shah, had made Egypt to feel
their power, were nearly destroyed by Mohammed Ali.
They had received orders to hold themselves in readi-
ness to take part in a grand ceremony, which was to
precede the departure of his son for Mecca. ‘ That
day,’ said an inhabitant of Cairo to me, ‘the sun rose
the colour of blood!’ The Pasha looked -dark and
melancholy: but recollecting that he was to preside at
one of the most brilliant fétes of the Mussulmans, he
assumed a smile which contrasted remarkably with his
veneral appearance. He had addressed the Mame-
lukes as the ‘ Elder Sons of the Prophet ;’ and called
upon them, by the peace which subsisted between them,
to celebrate with him the departure of lis son for the
Holy Tomb.
** In the meantime a number of faithful Albanians
were concealed upon the ramparts, the towers, and be-
hind the walls of the citadel. The Mamelukes arrived
with the utmost confidence, and the gates were closed
upon them. ‘The Pasha had placed himself on the
summit of a terrace, seated on a carpet, smoking a
magnificent narguile (Persian pipe), from whence he
could see every motion without being seen ; behind him
were three of his confidential officers. He regarded
the scene below with a fixed and terrible look, without
speaking a word; the signal was given, to fire, and
the massacre of the Mamelukes commenced. ‘They
were adorned, or rather encumbered, with their finest
arms, and mounted on noble horses; but their num-
bers, their courage—all were useless—they were de-
stroyed !”
Such of the Mamelukes as escaped the indiscriminate
massacre within the walls of the castle were seized,
carried out, and beheaded; and numbers in the towns
and villages, on the calamity which had befallen their
brethren being made known, shared a like fate. The
remnant retired to Dongola in Nubia; but they were
scattered by [brahim Pasha, and from that period the
total destruction, or, at least, the complete subjugation,
of the once proud Mamelukes may be dated.
Dr. Hogg thus describes the appearance of the Pasha
in the interview which he had with him in 1832 :—
"The Pasha was simply dressed, without either em-
broidery or jewels, and wore a sabre plainly mounted in
gold. His stature is rather under ihe middle size; he
does not appear to be more than sixty, is plump and
well looking, with dark, restless, piercing’ eyes, an ani-
mated countenance, and a prepossessine mauuer. He
is still fresh and, unwrinkled, and although his beard
is Silvery, it adds only a certain dignity to his aspect,
without giving him the appearance of age. His man-
ner of speaking is quick and lively; he laughs often
and heartily, and is quite free from that air of solemn
dullness so characteristic of the Turks, and probably pro-
duced by the narcotic fumes they perpetually inhale.”
er ee
‘
Til PENNY MAGAZINE,
[Junz 17,
A VISIT TO CLAIRVAUX.
Tne Penitentiary of Clairvaux is one of the largest in
France. ‘The house was originally a monastery ; it was
founded in 1105 by Hugh, Count of Champagne, and
within a century from that date was placed under the
direction of the celebrated St. Bernard; it retained its
first destination until the Revolution, when it was sold
to a company of merchants; it was afterwards bought
back by the imperial government, and converted to a
prison in the year 1808, when 2000 convicts took the
place of 500 monks. Clairvaux was for some years
after this a sort of show-place for the curious in the
neighbourhood, and it is said that neither a marriage
nor a christening took place within a dozen miles with-
out a visit to Clairvaux. ‘This system of exhibition has
very properly been abolished, aud at present it is not
without great difficulty that any one is admitted. An
account of the prison has recently been written by a
gentleman who accompanied a magistrate of the de-
partment in an official visitation two years ago, and
from it our notice of the place is abridged.
The road from Bar-sur-Aube to Clairvaux is about
nine miles in length; it passes along the banks of the
Aube, which flows here through a narrow valley, bor-
dered by rugged hills. ‘The valley diminishes to a
narrow gorge where it approaches the prison, and it is
lined through a great part of its course by a range of
immense oaks, “ old enough,” says our guide, “‘ to have
seen St. Bernard pass by.” ‘The traveller comes upon
the building almost without seeing it, and, notwith-
standing its immense magnitude, might pass it without
much notice. ‘The only part visible is a wall of great
height and length, without decoration of any sort—
without even a door. It ranges in line with the enor-
mous oaks which border the road, and which are inter-
rupted at this spot only. The place seems well adapted
for both its former and present purposes; it is equally
fitted to be a cloister or a prison—to be the place of
either voluntary or compulsory expiation for crime.
After reaching the building, a quarter of an hour
more is required to get at the door of the prison; there
is but one in the whole building, and that is placed in
the side wall, a considerable way up the steep hill which
comes almost close down upon the road. Through this
entrauce the party were adinitted into a court larger
than that of the Louvre, in which all was silent, without
any appearance of guards, turnkeys, or soldiers. They
were first conducted to the women’s dining-room, as it
was then the dinner hour. Four hundred women were
present, and “‘ had it not been for the monotonous
sound of the speons upon the pewter plates, such was
the silence that one might have heard the dropping of
the sand in an hour-glass.” ‘They learned here to their
Surprise, that, with the exception of sex, there was no
classification in the prison; all ages, and crimes of
every different atrocity, were mingled promiscuously.
The guardian stated that experience had shown this
plan to be the best. ‘‘ A single example of industry,”
it was stated, “‘ or of sincere repentance, had its influ-
ence through the whole mass. ‘The less atrocious por-
tion of evil seems to filter through the whole body, and
weakens it. Dividing the different crimes has been
found to produce the contrary effect; in such cases
crimes find their level, and they maintain it.’’
They next visited the workroom, which is a large
square hall, on the first-floor of the building. Here
they found the same women, who had marched from
the dining-room with the rapidity and regularity of a
military evolution. They were seated on stools, ranged
in long lines, facing the windows of the apartment,
which were raised above the floor. They were employed
In sewing, embroidery, glove-making, tambour-work,
and other feminine occupations. ‘The same silence was
maintained, and, with scarcely. one exception, not a
1837.
head was raised in the slightest degree from the work.
In this place, as well as in all parts of the prison where
the people are at work, ruards, dressed in blue, with
swords hanging by their sides, stand about with arms
crossed, as silent as their prisoners, and still more
notionless, ,
The women’s dormitory is on the floor above the
workroom; it is a very large vaulted hall, or chamber,
divided into three parallel chambers, each about twenty-
five feet in width. ‘The dividing walls do not reach to
the ceiling, but leave a considerable space above to admit
air and light to every part. ‘The beds are placed in the
side divisions only, leaving the centre room as a gallery
for recreation when the weather is bad; it serves also
as a passage through the dormitory to other parts of the
buildings. The ventilation of these apartments is said
to be excellent, and the most rigid attention is paid
to cleanliness: the pavements are well washed with
chloride of lime twice a week, and the walls are fre-
qnently whitewashed. The bedsteads were of wood,
but it was intended to substitnte iron ones. Each was
nearly two feet in width, and rather more tlian six in
length; and they were furnished with a mattress, sack,
and two blankets. ‘The visiters regretted to learn that
little supervision was exercised at night in this dormi-
tory: one woman from among the prisoners was chosen
as a sort of superintendent over each thirty beds, and
no light was allowed. The younger girls, who slept in
smaller apartments of a similar construction, were much
better watched, and a light was kept burning all night.
Beyond this last place were the solitary cells for the
punishment of the refractory.
After traversing some “crooked staircases, vast halls,
and labyrinthine corridors,’ the party came to the wash-
ing-place, where some women were washing the linen
of the establishment in a large stone bason in the
middle of another vast hall. It must be remembered
that in France this sort of work is generally performed
with cold water, in the open air, by the banks of: ponds
or rivers, and in all weathers. In this place, although
nothing doubting of the excellent policy of the prison
reeulations, the writer cannot help having some mis-
mivings that the superior accommodations of the
prison might be a temptation to the honest. ‘“‘ Here,”
says he, ““the washerwomen are sheltered from heat
and cold, wind and rain; and yet these women are
convicts! How they must pity the honest villager
whom they have robbed, and who is not so well used
by fate as they are.” A reply made by the wuardian to
an observation addressed to him shows that the prison
has not many terrors to evil doers: it was remarked
that there was no appearance of chains, bolts, and bars ;
the reply was, “ Although hidden, the barrier is not
the iess secure; many prisoners would not get out if
they could; in 1834, out of 655 cases of prisoners con-
victed more than once, 506 were reputed to have com-
mitted crimes for tlie sole purpose of returning to
prison.”
(To be continued. }
A LOOKING-GLASS FOR LONDON.—No. XV.
_Commerce—Tue River anv Port.
Or the numerous encomiums which have been bestowed
on the Hames, perhaps that of old Fuller, the quaint
aud witty author of the ‘ Worthies of England,’ is as
expressive as any. He tells us, that ‘*‘ London oweth its
vreatness, under God’s divine providence, to the well-
conditioned river of ‘Thames, which doth not (as some
tyrant rivers in Europe) abuse its strength in a destruc-
tive way, but employeth its greatness in goodness, to
be beneficial for commerce by the reciprocation of the
tide therein. Hence it was, that when King James,
offended with the city, threatened to remove his court
to another place, the Lord Mayor, boldly enouch, re-
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
monotonous aspect.
227
torted, that he might remove his court at his pleasure,
but could not remove the Thames! ”
And the “City” of London has long regarded the
Thames as peculiarly its own river,—for centuries its
boast and its care. Since the reion of Richard I., the
Lord Mayor has been recoenized, both in law and prac-
tice, as, by virtue of his office, the ‘* Conservator of
the ‘hames;” and the Corporation of London has
never been slow or reluctant to assert and defend its
rights when they have been attacked, as has been the
case repeatedly. ‘The jurisdiction of the ‘‘ city” on the
river extends a long way,—from Staines (which by
water is about thirty-seven miles above London Bridge)
to a boundary stone set up on the Essex shore, in the
estuary, making upwards of eighty miles of river
navigation, without reckoning the jurisdiction on the
Medway.
From the sea up‘to within a few miles of London,
the banks of the Thames present but little of pic-
turesque scenery. ‘The river flows throngh a flat
marshy level, which, especially on the Essex side, has a
A range of hills, of small eleva-
tion, runs from Gravesend to Greenwich, at a varying
distance from the bank, and this preserves the scenery
from being altogether tame and uninteresting. But it
is the river itself which is the great source of interest—
the consideration of what it has been and of what it ts.
It has been a commercial highway for these eighteen
hundred years past—it is at present the most important
one in the world! We are told, on the authority of
Tacitus, that about a.p. 60, the Roman colony of
London was then famous for its merchants and its
merchandise; and it shared, doubtless lar@ely, in the
not inconsiderable traffic maintained by the British
Islands with the Continent during the long period of
their Roman occupation. And though, amid the con-
tentions of Saxon, Dane, and Norman, the Thames
was oftener visited for the purposes of piracy and
plunder than for those of commerce, still the importance
of London, as a commercial resort, was never extin-
ouished, however it might have been diminished and
endangered. William the Conqueror found it the most
important city in his acquired dominions, and such it has
continued. Its commercial progress was at first slow,
and even in Elizabeth’s time was of small amount, com-
pared with what it has since reached; but the fact of the
“city” acquiring by charter the care of the Thames so
early as the reign of Richard I., proves that, as a com-
mercial community, it was not then of little estimation.
On arriving off Gravesend, which is opposite Tilbury
Fort, and twenty-five miles from London, we begin to
remark, more particularly, the great traffic on the
Thames. From hence, upwards, vessels are lying at
anchor here and there in the stream, or are moving by
the aid of the wind ; some great and heavy-laden ship
is being towed up or down; and steamers, large and
small, are every now and then rushing past. On reach-
ing and passing Woolwich, the interest rapidly in-
creases. In a short time we are at the entrance of
‘what is legwally the Port of London (that is, the space
comprehended in the Harbour regulations), which
extends from London Bridge down to Bugsby’s Hole,
immediately below Blackwall, a distance of nearly six
miles and a half. The actual port, or harbour, known
under the names of the Lower and Upper Pools, is
only about four miles in length. ‘Turning round by
Blackwall, with its taverns whose windows overhang
the water, Greenwich opens distinctly on the view,
with its noble and palace-like Hospital, and its back-
eround of park and woody hill, crowned by the Ob-
servatory. Opposite Greenwich and Deptford is the
marshy peninsula of the Isle of Dogs, nearly round
which the river makes a great sweep, from north to
south, and from south to north. There is one of the
harbour-masters in his boat; and that oe floating
2°@ 2
228
from the flag-staff over the Harbour Master’s Office at
Greenwich, is the ‘“‘ Collier Detention Flag,” warning
the colliers lying) moored in the river that there is yet
no room for them in the Lower Pool, and that they
must ‘‘ bide their time.’ When the flag is hauled
down, the first in turn move upward; and as soon as
the allotted spaces are occupied the flag is hauled up
again.
We are now in Limehouse Reach, and entering the
Lower Pool. In the distance are the numerous spires
of London, and the dome of St. Paul’s—before us a
‘¢ forest of masts,’ the density of which, at particular
seasons of the year, is truly astonishing to the “inland”
inan who looks on such a scene for the first time.
And how are we to ‘thread the needle,” as going
through the Pools has been termed by the pilots?
The harbour laws require a clear channel of not less
than 300 feet to be kept for the passage of vessels be-
tween the tiers of shipping—a space which has often
been encroached on, thoueh latterly the law is some-
what’ strictly enforced. . But the tide is favourable, and
a number of vessels are on the move. Here is a ship
of 600 or 800 tons going up to the St. Katherine’s
Docks, towed by a steamer on either side, the three
requiring in width from 60 to 100 feet of the navigable
channel. That heavy barge, with only one ian in it,
who finds it easier to let it “ drift athwart” with the
tide, than to strain his arms and body by holding it
‘“‘ head up,” is crossing the bow of a rapidly-advancing
steam-boat—a cry bursts out from half-a-dozen voices
to clear the way! And what a turmoil is created in
the water by the paddles of the passing steam-boats—
one which has just gone down the river is in length
and in breadth of beam equal to a seventy-four man-
of-war. How foolish it is to risk that little boat with
five or six people in it, and its gunnel within two or
three inches of the water’s edge, in such an agitated
pool; it is dancing on the surface, and if it touches a
cable, or ships a wave caused by the swell, it will surely
be swamped! From the inquests of the different coro-
hers, jt would appear that, in the two years 1834 and
1835, there were 197 persons drowned within the limits
of the port of London; and of these 18 are attributed
to accidents caused by steam-boats, arising either from
collision, or from the swell raised by their paddles: the
deaths of the remaining 179 are attributed to other
causes—falling from boats or from the sides of ships,
or from floating timber, &c.; and some are described
as merely ‘‘ found drowned.” Considering the chances
of danger there are, the number of deaths attributed to
the steam-boats is very remarkably small; and there
might be less if there was less rashness.
The truth is, the employment of the watermen is
nearly gone; and some of them who are still depend-
ing on their boats for a subsistence are careless and
reckless. Not but that the steam-boats are sometimes
reprehensibly faulty. But it is a most anxious and irk-
some thing to navigate a steamer through the Pools.
It is needless to say that, though the watermen have
been almost deprived of their old means of subsistence,
the general introduction of steam-boats on the river has
enhanced an hundred-fold the public accommodation
and convenience.
Yet one cannot part with the ancient fraternity of
watermen without regret. Before what we would call
roads existed, or coaches were in use, the ‘Thames
was the chief medium by which people went from one
part to another in the neighbourhood of London. It
was emphatically the “ king’s highway” then, for the
royal family used it in going from Westminster up to
Windsor, or from Westminster to Greenwich; and the
nobility vied with royalty in the splendour of their
barges, and the number of watermen who wore their
liveries and were under their protection. In an act of
Henry VIII. for regulating the watermen’s fares (6th.
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
[June 17,
Henry VIII., c. 7), it is termed ‘a laudable custome
and usage within this realme of England, tyme oute of
mynde,”’ to use the river in boats and barges. In the
ensuing reign another act was passed (2 and 3 Philip
and Mary, c. 16), “ towching watermen and bargemen
upon the ryver of Thamys,” in which complaints are
made of ‘‘ divers and many missfortunes and Inys-
chances of late yeres past” happening to “a greate
nomber of the king and queene’s subjectes, as well to
the nobilitee as to other the common people, that have
passed and repassed and been carried by water,” which
is attributed to the carelessness or want of skill of the
watermen. This act required the Lord Mayor and
aldermen to appoint overseers of the watermen, directed
that no boat should be used less than 22% feet in
length and 4% broad in the midships, and that tables of
the fares should be hune up in Guildhall, Westminster
Hall, and other public places, the penalty being forty
shillings for exacting more than the leeal fare.
Hackney coaches and better roads began to draw
away the watermen’s employment; still when we con-
sider that down to 1750 (the year in which West-
minster Bridge was finished) there was only one bridge
across the Thames at London, we see that there was
large employment as ferrymen for the watermen, with-
out reckoning the “ pleasure parties,” or the travellers
by water between London and Gravesend. We now
count six bridges over the Thames at London; and
steam has come in to complete the process of the ab-
sorption of labour. Until lately the watermen thought
that even if the river below the bridges was taken from
them, still they were secure of it from London up to
Windsor. But the restless ‘‘ demon of the waters”
chases them up the river. Little steamers are now
seen, In nautical phraseology, ‘‘ shooting’’ the archies,
and wreathing the bridges in smoke; the quiet and
picturesque banks of the ‘Thames are visited, in sum-
mer, by steam-boats, as far up as Richmond and Twick-
enham. ‘* Previous to steam navigation,” said the
clerk of the Watermen’s Company, last year, “ there
were a great number of parties in the course of the
summer, who went out in boats to Gravesend, or to
the villages on this side of it, and to Richmond and
higher up; parties hired two, four, six, or eight water-
men to row them—but that is all done away.” The
same individual, however, on being asked if the water-
men would not be sorry to see the steam-bouats put
down altogether, replied, *‘ It is useless their wishing
for that—they might as well attempt to kick the moon
out of its orbit!’ Still, in the face of all this irreme-
diable drying up of the sources from which they ob-
tained a subsistence, the watermen illustrate how power-
ful are old habits and associations. The port of Lon-
don and the docks, and even their great foe the steam-
boats, hold out to them a field large and ample, into
which they ought to be well adapted for diverting their
labour, and many have done so. Yet walk along the
narrow streets on either side the Thames below London
Bridge, and at each crevice-like opening leading to
stairs on the river, numbers will be seen loitering about
during the long summer-day, half-a-dozen at a time
ready to surround each passing stranger with ‘* Want
a boat, Sir, want a boat!” while their boats are lying
in the sun hauled up on the beach, or plastered in the
mud at low water, or else knocking about by the swell
inthe river. In 1836 there were 2085 watermen’s boats
licensed to carry passengers below London Bridge, and
643 above it, making a total of 2728. To this add 103
licensed .by the ‘Trinity House. In some instances one
man may possess more than one of these licensed boats,
especially if he have an apprentice. Forty years ago there
were 12,000 watermen on the river; at present the en-
tire number belonging to the Watermen’s Company is
about 8000, counting freemen, widows having appren-
tices, and apprentices. Of these upwards of 5000 are
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
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grown up, and working as lightermen and watermen,
some of them taking any kind of employment they can
vet by the water-side, others (of whom there are at least
2000) mainly depending on their hoats for subsistence.
The act 2 and 3 Phil. and Mary, which prescribed
2 minimum for the size of waterien’s boats has been
mentioned. Now that minimum, adopted nearly three
centuries ago, has been the general rule for a maximum
down to our day. Can we wonder, then, that such
boats should be unsafe ina river crowded with shipping
and navigated by steam? ‘I live at Rotherhithe,”
said the master of the Watermen’s Company, ‘* and
one day I crossed over, taking a little boy, my appren-
tice, with me.
passing. I stepped out as quick as I could, but I got
both my feet wet. I was not gone ten minutes, and
when I came back my boat was washed off the shore,
having been moved fifty feet. J ran into the water
up to my knees, to get at the boat; the watermen were
laughing at me, and said they hoped I should have a
little pity for them. J suppose I was ten minutes
before I could gwet my boat to shore, and it was ten
more before | could wet into her—the shore was more
like a sea-beach than the river. . . . <A brother
liehterman called on me, and he says, ‘ I am going by
the omnibus, will you go?’ I said, ‘ You have your
son, we can all go in a wherry fora shilling?’ He
replied, ‘ Oh no! I shall get wetted, I will go in the
omnibus. Now if we watermen are afraid to go, what
must the public feel?’ ‘The Watermen’s Company
have prescribed an improved scale for boats; but the
greater part of the present boats were built before it
was laid down, and, not one in fifty of the watermen
can raise the twenty guineas which is the price of a
new wherry. Their only chance of getting a new boat
is by trying for one of the prize-boats aunually given
to the winners of races on the water; and there are
instances of these prize-boats being put up for sale by
the winners as soon as won.
But we have tarried a lone time at the entrance of
the Upper Pool. It begins from about over the spot
where the ‘Thames Tunnel is excavating—or rather we
There were two or three steam-boats
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should say it ends there, its commencement being at
London Bridge. On our right hand going up—the
Middlesex side—is Wapping; on the left or Surrey
side, Rotherhithe. Now we are passing the entrances
of the London Docks, and the St. Katherine’s Docks
are marked out by its lofty warehouses; adjoining it
is the ‘* time-worn”’ Tower; a few minutes more and
we are off the Custom House, and may be landed on
its quay—the only quay in the port of London on
which the public can walk, with the exception of a
small one in front of the Tower.
The collection of the “ king’s toll” or customs—
which used to be a main dependence of royalty—was
managed very bunglingly in former times. The ‘‘ cus-
tomers,” as the collectors of customs are termed in old
acts of parliament, were in the habit of cheating both
king and merchant; the one, by giving false certificates
of the duty being paid to such merchants as they chose
to favour, and the other, by sometimes giving no dis-
charges or receipts at all, or at least until they had
compelled a second payment of the same duty. The
1] Henry VI., cap. 15, 16, is directed against these
practices. A member of the Grocers’ Company, who
was*‘also sheriff of London, named John Churchman,
vets the credit of having first got up the convenience
of a custom-house at the port of London—this was
towards the end of the fourteenth century. Church-
man’s Custom House was only for the “ troynage’”’ or
weighing of wools—long after its erection the various
customs were collected at different parts of the city
in an irregular manner. The commencement of the
present system may be dated from Elizabeth’s reign,
when a new and more capacious Custom House was
built, which was burned in the Great Fire of 1566.
Sir Christopher Wren built another, which was also
burned in 1718, and its successor shared a like fate in
1814, though not before it had been determined to
ull it down as inconvenient, and erect a new one in its
stead. The present structure lies a little westward of
ihe site of the former one, nearer London Bridge. The
first stone of it was laid in 1813, before the fire hap-
pened, which consumed the previous house,
230
The new edifice was opened for public business in
1817, having been erected for the contract price of
165,000/.; but in consequence of a failure in the
central part of the foundations, the Long Room, a
spacious hall, 190 feet long, 64 broad, and 55 high,
fell in 1825, which caused the central part of the
building to be reconstructed, and raised the entire
expenses to nearly 440,000/. The river front of the
Custom House is 488 feet in length.
Von Raumer thus describes a visit which he paid to
the Custom House :—
“We went to the Custom House to see the great
room where the principal duties are paid. The pro-
ceedings are as simple as they are expeditious. ‘The
merchandise is unloaded in the docks, valued, booked,
and warehoused. As soon as anything is to be with-
drawn from the warehouse for inland consumption, the
merchant pays the regular duty at the Custom House,
and receives the goods on showing a receipt or order.
Almost all sales follow immediately upon examination.
and always with the intervention of a broker. ‘The
usual difficulty of taxing goods according to their value
is diminished by the great experience of the sworn
officers, and by the forfeiture of the goods, with a fine
of ten per cent. in case of too low an estimate being
civen. For example; about six sorts of sugar of dif-
ferent qualities were laid out assamples; the hogsheads
or bags were brought in rapid succession; and the
valuer pierced a hole in each with a semicircnlar iron,
and drew out a sample; this he compared witk the
sample on the table, and called out the number on
the hogshead or bag according to which the duty was
fixed. All this passed with the greatest quiet, uni-
formity, and rapidity.”
The customs collected in the port of London con-
stitute one-half of the entire amount collected in the
United Kingdom. The amount of customs in the offi-
cial statement for the year ended 10th October, 1835,
was 18,408,212/.; and in 1836 it was 20,166,917/.
The amount collected in the port of London in 1834
was 10,697,263/., and in 1835 11,773,616/. ‘The
nearest approach to this are the customs of Liver-
pool, which, for the same years, were 3,846,306/., and
4.272,8471.
{To be continued.]}
School of Destgn.—A grant was made in the parlia-
mentary session of°1836, for the purpose of affording instruc-
tion to those engaged in the preparation of designs for the
various branches of the manufactures of this country. To
carry out this important object, a ‘ School of Design’ has
been established, under the sanction of Government at
Somerset House, in the rooms lately occupied by the Royal
Academy, and which was opened on the Ist of June last.
The instruction given in this school will include light and
shade, colour, modelling, perspective, &c. An opportunity
is thus afforded to young persons having a taste for the fine
arts, of acquiring a knowledge of the principles and modes
of changing and adapting forms of ornament, aided by light,
shade, and colour, so as to produce new and elegant combi-
nations; and of acquiring also a knowledge of the chemistry
of colours, on which the laws of harmonious colouring are
based. Should the experiment of this ‘ School of Design’
be a successful one, we may anticipate that a class of prac-
tical artists, far higher in education and taste than our pre-
sent artisans, wil] be employed in our arts and manufactures,
producing a most beneficial action on the social taste and
feeling of the entire community. The following are the
rules of the ‘School of Design :'—‘“ Masters, under the
reneral superintendence of Mr. Papworth, the director, will
be employed to afford instruction in the various branches.
Lectures will also occasionally be given on the principal
subjects connected with Ornamental Art.
tion of drawings and casts for the use of the school has been
provided. Such persons as are desirous of attending, must
apply to one of the council, or to the director. The students,
before admission, must have made some progress in drawing, |
and candidates are to be examined by the director, who is
THE PENNY MAGAZINE
A. large collec-”
[June U7,
to report thereon to the council, by whom the students are
to be admitted ; the director, however, is vested with a dis-
cretionary power of admitting, as probationers, such appli-
cants as may be considered by him qualified, until the
decision of the council be ascertained. Each student is to
be subject to reprimand from the director, and to expulsion
by the council, on the representation of the director, or
otherwise. The students are to have admission to the dif-
ferent lectures gratis. In case of misconduct the director
has power to suspend the attendance of the student, until
the decision of the council is known. The hours for attend-
ance to be daily from ten to four. A vacation of two months
will be allowed. The students are to find paper, chalk, &c.,
and to pay 4s. per week each, to be paid in advance from
the Ist of each month.” An evening school is intended to
be opened, at which artisans ‘may attend after their day’s
work; the fees for this school are to be low.
THE LAKES OF NORTH AMERICA.
[In a former Number (325) some details were given respecting
the great lakes of North America. The following particulars
are supphed by a correspondent, and will serve to illustrate the
accompanying map. To avoid complicating the map with
details of secondary interest to the lakes, none of the rivers
which fall into them have been given. For instance, the
Thames, on which the view was taken, given in No. 330, is
omitted. The Thames issues from the great swamp in the
country between Lakes Huron and Ontario, and falls into the
smaall Lake St. Clair. |
In speaking of “ ‘The Great Lakes of North America,”.
it is not usual to include any but the five lying nearly
contiguous to one another, and immediately counected
by channels or outlets of various lengths and capacities.
As discovery penetrated further into the wildernesses of
the west, other large lakes were added to the number
of those already known; but as they were found to be
far separated from each other, and in no way connected
with the grand chain, they have not as yet become
objects of equal interest.
The five lakes in the grand chain are, Ontario, Erie,
Huron, Michigan, and Superior. It is from the most
easterly of these lakes that the St. Lawrence issues.
Properly speaking, the St. Lawrence has its source in
Lake Superior, and we may draw a line through
Superior, Huron, St. Clair, Erie, and Ontario, to
describe its course; yet’ the connecting links of the
several lakes to the westward of Ontario are known by
distinct and quite dissimilar names.
Ontario is about 170 miles in length, from east to
west, and its average breadth is about forty-five miles.
Towards its eastern extremity it abounds with islands
of various sizes; among which, and in several of its
bays and inlets, are safe and commodious harbours for
shipping. ‘This lake never freezes during the severest
winters; but as much ice accumulates in the bays and
inlets, the navigation of the lake is interrupted during
some of the winter months. ‘There are no large rivers
falling into Ontario, except its great feeder and channel
of communication with Ene, although the Genesee
and Oswego, both flowing from the south, would be
reckoned very respectable rivers in many parts of the
world. ‘This lake is bounded on the north and west by
Upper Canada, and on the south and east by the state
of New York. Its waters are deep, pure, and trans-
parent; and well stocked with a great variety of fish.
‘The next lake in the chain is Erie, which is con-
nected with Ontario by the far-famed Niagara river;
the distance between them being thirty-six miles. But
the great “‘ Falls of Niagara,” intervening about mid-
way of that distance, the communication by this channel
is obviously rendered useless for the purposes of navi-
gation. However, an independent channel has been
opened by the Welland Canal between the two lakes,
of a sufficient capacity to admit the transit of respect-
ably-sized schooners. The length of Erie is about 260
miles, and the average breadth about forty; so that
it presents a somewhat more extensive surface than
1$37.].
Ontario.
Within forty or fifty miles of its western extremity,
there are groups of numerous rocky islands, some of
which are clothed with grass and forest-trees. A por-
tion of its southern shore is rocky and dangerous; while
a considerable extent of the coast on the northern or
Canadian side is composed of lofty “ clay-banks,” as
the Canadians designate them, which are daily wasting
away by the chafing of the waters. ‘Towards its eastern
end the banks on both sides are low; and this portion
of the lake is commonly closed with ice during the
severest part of winter. Although Erie is the most
southerly of all the large lakes, yet more ice is formed
in it than in any of the others. This phenomenon is
accounted for by the shallowness of its waters; its
oreatest depth being only fifteen or twenty fathoms:
whereas the shailowest of the other lakes has an average
of thrice that depth. Where the water is shallow it
follows that a greater portion of the whole mass will
be affected by any change of temperature—either from
heat to cold, or from cold to heat—and this undoubtedly
is the reason why Erie is so peculiarly subject to the action
of severe frost. The ice from that portion of Erie which
freezes over, sometimes accumulates in large masses
near the outlet, being forced thither by westerly winds,
so that the spring 1s pretty well advanced before it is
all floated down the Niagara river. It has already
been remarked that near the eastern extremity of Erie
the shores on both sides are low; but along the Canada
beach, for an extent of fifteen or twenty miles, there
are numerous and singularly-shaped sand-hills, of a
much greater elevation than the country in the rear of
them to a considerable distance inland. Sometimes
they form tolerably regular ranges, at other times they
are scaitered along the shore at a considerable distance
apart, and not unfrequently they rise to an elevation of
forty or fifty feet. ‘They are evidently composed of
lake sand, for many of them are entirely destitute of
vecretation; while others again are partially overgrown
with stunted trees and shrubs, or covered with scanty
herbage. How or when these sand-hills have been
formed, along a strand where the adjoining country
rises but a few feet above the level of the lake, appears
somewhat difficult to conjecture. ‘There is one district
where those sand-hills peculiarly abound; and as many
of them are of a conical shape, the adjacent country,
since it has become inhabited, is universally known by
the appellation of the ‘“‘Sugar-loaf Settlement.” But
they are by no means universally found in the shape
of cones; for many of their bases present triangles,
squares, parallelograms, trapeziums, &c. &c.
Except the Detroit river, which is the great inlet
from the large lakes to the westward, there are but few
rivers of much maenitude falling into Erie. Grand
River, which intersects a considerable portion of the
peninsula of Upper Canada, and the Miamee, which
waters portions of the states of Indiana and Ohio, are
the only two streams of respectable size that fall into
this lake. But the fact is this—the geographical situa-
tion of the great lakes is such, that from the considerable
elevation of the table-land on which their waters repose,
it is easy to conceive that the surrounding country, at no
very great distance, will throw off its surplus waters in
contrary directions from the immediate vicinity of the
different lakes. And such in fact is the case; for
even including the river St. Louis, which falls into the
western end of lake Superior, there is not a single tri-
butary stream falling into any of the five large lakes
that has any claim to higher consideration than the
venerality of American rivers of the third and fourth
magnitudes.
Huron is the next great lake, and is situated to the
north and west of Erie. The channel of communica-
tion between the two is considerably over 100 miles
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
Its general range is about west-south-west.
231
long ; and nearly midway it expands into a respectable
sheet of water—forty by thirty miles in extent—known
by the name of Lake St. Clair. The channel from
Erie to St. Clair is named the Detroit River, and that
upwards, from St. Clair to Huron, is called the St.
Clair River. The dimensions of Huron are about 240
miles in Jen¢th from south to north—but inclining «
little to the west,—and 120 miles are scarcely the
average breadth. But it is divided into two almost
distinct parts by a headland which stretches far into
the lake, and which is terminated by a chain of islands
extending nearly to its north-west extremity, The
northern portion of it is so decidedly cut off from the
other section, that it is now commonly known as Lake
Manitouline; although in reality it is but a part of one
great whole. The shape of Huron is somewhat trian-
gular; and it is bounded on two of its sides by Upper
Canada, and on the third by the territory of Michigan,
which is about becoming a state. Although Huron
lies considerably further to the north than either Erie
or Ontario, yet during the most intense frosts but very
little ice is formed in any part of it. Its waters are so
deep that a line of some hundred fathoms would not
reach the bottom in the deepest parts. Some portion
of its shores are remarkably wild and rocky; and the
winds are said to rage more violently on Huron than
on any of the other lakes. Being bounded on two
sides by peninsulas, (the Lake District of Upper
Canada and the Michigan Territory) its rivers are
small and comparatively few. The Thames is one of
the finest rivers in the district, but it empties itself into
Lake St. Clair.
The next Jarge lake is Michiean; and it has a direct
communication with Huron by the strait of Michili-
mackinaw. After entering this strait the lake extends
nearly directly south, something over 300 miles; and
excepting’ an extensive inlet to the west, called Green
Bay, the shores of this lake are more regular than those
of any of the others, between which the average breadth
is about fifty-five miles. It used to be reckoned about
the same size as Erie; but according to these dimen-
sions it presents a much larger surface. The waters of
this lake are said to be deeper than even those of
Huron, and therefore it may be readily conjectured that
it never freezes over. Green Bay is almost detached
from the main body of the lake, and is sixty or seventy
miles long. ‘To the east of Michigan lies the territory,
to which is appended its own name; the southern end
abuts upon the States of Indiana and Illinois, while
on the west lies the vast region of the north-west terri-
tory. ike the other lakes, its rivers are but of trifling
importance ; for at no great distance towards the south
and west some of the branches of the rivers Wabash,
Illinois, and Mississippi have their origin.
Lake Superior, which is the next and last of the
oreat chain, is, as its name indicates, superior in size to
any of the rest. This lake communicates with Huron
by the short but rather intricate channel of the River
St. Mary. Its bearings from the last-named lake are
north-west ; so that its situation is the most northerly
and westerly of all the great lakes. Its length from
east to west is a little over 400 miles, and its breadth
averages about 120. Although there are a few toler-
ably large islands in this lake, the main body, or centre
portion of it, is entirely free from all obstructions. Its
waters are shallower than those of either Michigan or
Huron (for they are calculated at from forty to fifty
fathoms), yet the main body of it remains unfrozen
during the long and severe winters common to that
part of the world. There is no river of importance
empties itself into Superior. The St. Louis, after a
course of 300 or 400 miles, falls into the extreme west-
ern coruer of the lake; and it would be therefore quite
fair to consider it as the head waters of the St. Lawrence.
232
This vast body of water, like all the other Jarge lakes,
is pure, sweet, and transparent,—well adapted to all
the purposes of domestic life. Although it is less
familiarly known than the others to all but the Indian
nations, yet there is not an island, or a bay or inlet of
any importance, that has not been visited by the bat-
teaux of the traders of the North-west Fur Company.
It may not be uninteresting to give a few simple
calculations, in order to assist the reader in forming
tolerably correct ideas of the immensity of the body of
water contained in those vast reservoirs. Where the
Niagara river issues from Lake Erie, there is a solid
bed of rock across the entire channel, over which the
water rushes at the rate of nearly seven miles per hour ;
but as the portion of water near the surface of a stream
always flows with somewhat greater velocity than that
which comes in immediate contact with the bottom and
sides of the channel, it has been calculated that the
whole body of the river flows with a rapidity of at least
six miles per hour. Although the river in this particu-
lar spot is something more than 600 yards wide, yet
for the sake of simplifying the calculation, the above
measurement shall be adopted as the full width; while
the average depth of the river is about tweive feet.
From this it will be found that 684,288,000 cubic feet
of water escape from Lake Erie every hour,—or
16,422,912,000 feet in each day of twenty-four hours.
Now calculating the lake at 240 miles in length by
AO in breadth, we have a surface of 9600 square miles,
or 267,632,640,000 square feet; and the depth of the
waters of the lake averaging about fifteen fathoms
or ninety feet, the whole body of water would be
24,086,937,600,000- cubic feet. It therefore follows,
that if all the supplies of the lake were stopped, (leav-
THE PENNY MAGAZINE
[June 17, 1837.
ing evaporation out of the question) it would require
1466 days, or upwards of four years, for the whole of
the water to be drawn off by a channel of the estimated
capacity. And regarding Lake Superior, which has
an outlet of but half the capacity as that of Erie,—cal-
culating that it contains a superficial area of 48,000
square miles, with a depth of 300 feet,—it therefore
follows that it would take nearly 134 years to drain off
all its waters by the present channel, provided the sup-
pies and evaporation were both suspended. Or still
further to place the capacity of this lake in another
lieht, it has a surface equal to a belt across the Atlantic
from Liverpool to New York, of fourteen or fifteen
miles in width, reckoning the distance between the two
seaports at 3325 miles.
The rising and falling of the waters of these lakes is
but very trifling ; about two feet is the variation be-
tween the highest and lowest state of the water. Those
lying to the westward are the fullest during the month
of May; just after the whole of the winter snows have
been dissolved and poured down by innumerable streams
into Huron and Superior ; but those more to the east-
ward, Erie and Ontario, are generally the fullest in
June or July; allowing time for the waters of the west
to find their way through those immense reservoirs
into which they are first discharged. ‘hey are never
perceptibly affected by the heaviest falls of vain; but
a strong wind, blowing for a length of time in the
direction of the outlets of any of the lakes, has a
powerful effect in accumulating the water whither the
wind blows, thereby increasing or diminishing the volume
of water in the river by which the lake discharges itself,
according as the wind may happen to blow directly
towards, or directly from, the lake's outlet.
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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 & CCQ., 22, LUDGATE STREET,
Pristed by WinL1am Chowes and Sons, Stamford Street,
THE PENNY MAGAZINE
OF THE ;
Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge.
PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY.
‘[June 24, 1837.
A LOOKING-GLASS FOR LONDON.—No, XVI.
CoMMERCE—THE RIVER AND Port.
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34
[The Upper Pool. ]
Leavine the Custom House, let us go up to London
Bridge, and survey the port of London quietly and
attentively, at least that portion of it which can be sur-
veyed from the bridge. ‘There are certainly many
positive indications of greatness—but the whole scene
has accompaniments which much diminish its general
effect. The language of the Baron Dupin, in his
‘ Commercial Power of Great Britain,’ though some-
what less applicable now than when it was written a
few years ago, is still descriptive of the port of Lon-
don :-—‘* Instead of spacious quays, bordered by ranges
f lofty warehouses [the lofty warehouses-of the St.
Katherine’s Docks were not then erected] and sumptuous
edifices, adapted to every branch of an universal com-
merce, the river is confined by ungainly walls and
palines, and clumsy piles; the whole surrounded by
smoky and irregular sheds, and houses that cover the
filthy banks, without even leaving a free path by the
water-side for foot passengers. Miserable, however,
and offensive to the eye as this is, it is compensated by
certain advantages. If carts and waggons are unable
to reach the side, in order to bring and carry away the
cargoes of vessels, yet these vessels themselves, on
reaching the wharf, have their decks immediately under
the cranes and pulleys with which these warehouses are
furnished, so that goods are at once shipped and un-
shipped to and from their peculiar depositories. ‘These
warehouses are themselves the depéts into which the
products of nature and art pour from all quarters of
the globe, to be afterwards distributed into the heart of
the capital and the provinces.” od
Vox. VI.
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The idea of opening a line of quays on either side of
the Thames in the port of London, and above London
Bridge, which has been repeatedly started, is likely to
remain afmere theoretical project,’while property by
the waterside is so valuable. The river side below
London Bridge is ocenpied by individuals or by com-
panies as entrances to docks, wharfs, legal quays, and
private moorings; and above it, all the way to between
Westmister and Vauxhall Bridges (with the exception
of a few spots, such as the Temple Gardens, the fronts
of Somerset House, Houses of Parliament, &c.), chiefly
as wood and coal-wharfs: and an idea of the value of
this property may be gathered from the facts, that a
steam-boat company having only five vessels carrying
passengers between London and Gravesend pays 3000l.
a-year for wharfage, and that a coal-merchant, for a
wharf so high up the river as between Waterloo and
Westminster Bridges pays a rent of 1000/. a-year. A
company of wharfingers holding three wharfs stated
that in the year 1835 there were (without reckoning
other vessels) 5769 visits paid to their premises by
steam-boats, landing or receiving 789,203 passengers.
The Upper Pool is a great resort of the steam-boats
connected with London; out of the ‘entire number
plying, there were, in 1836, no less than ninety making
their arrivals and departures to and from it; seventy
coasters, and twenty foreign. But here is one of what
are termed the small steamers coming up; she plies
between Woolwich and Hungerford Market, and will
pass under the bridge. Although this is quite a com-
mon thing now-a-days, there is still inducement enough
2H
234
for the young folks, ay, and some of the old folks too,
to run from one side of the bridge to the other, to
watch the vessel emerging from under the arch, and
receive its salute of smoke. In going up to Hunger-
ford Market, she passes under London, Southwark,
Blacktriars, and Waterloo bridges.
The establishment of these small steamers running
short distances was one of the most recent and severe
of the blows dealt by steam at the watermen. Yet
they are hardly to be termed smal steamers; they
vary from 70 to 100 tons, and not unfrequently
carry 500 passengers. When laden they draw about
three feet water. At Easter and Whitsuntide holiday
times it is not a little startling to see the crowds that
oo down to Greenwich by these conveyances, especially
if the weather be fine. The fare is 6d. to Greenwich,
and 9d. and 1s. to Woolwich; the steamers go down
in about three-quarters of an hour to Greenwich, and
with the tide to Woolwich in an hour anda half. There
is lately established a steam-boat company which runs |
boats so short a distance as between London Bridge
and Westminster, for a fare of 4d.
Steam, as applied to navigation, made but a slow
THE PENNY MAGAZINE, '
[June 24,
progress at first on the Thames. In 1820 (years
after vessels propelled by steam of 500 and 600 tons
were plying on American rivers) the answer of the
London Custom House to the question as to what
steamers, foreign or coasting, were connected with the
port, is ‘* nzd.” This does not mean that there were
then zo steam-boats on the Thames, for vessels carrying
passengers merely, and plying only on the river, are
not required to report at the Custom House. Of exist-
ing steam-boat companies there are only two that had
vessels in 1820—the Old Margate Company, which
had three going to Gravesend and Margate, and the
Gravesend one of fifty-two tons going to Gravesend.
The following is the number of voyages, not vessels, in
1830 and 1835 :—
1830, 1835.
Voyages. Tonnage. Voyages. Tonnage.
Coasting trade ... 185 .. 48,100 ...... 699 .. 181,740
o.+ 1/6 W Wome
expuiheas oes. ee
PY
Foreign trade 84,944
1076 .. 266,684
ns
Total ....+ 361 ++ 7enoee
To which add, in 1830, 20 river steam-packets, making
2344 voyages; and in 1835, 43, making 8843 voyages.
TRADE OF THE Port or LONDON.
FOREIGN TRADE.
IRISH TRADE.
ee aca een Eee Lemme ad
YEARS. British. Foreign.
Voyages.| Tonnage. | Voyages.| Tonnage. | Voyages.
1820 . . | 33541 655,239 856 | 122,619 | 420
1830 . .| 3910 | 744,229] 1268 | 207,500 | 797
1835. 3780 | 740,255 | 1057 188,893 1168 |
FISHING
VESSELS.
a
COLLIERS, '. COASTERS, ¢
Tonnage. | Voyages. Tonnage. Voyages, Tonnage. | Voyages.
43,891 5921 | norecord {| 10,676 | norecord | 4949:
105,409 6944 | 1,413,243 | 11,316 | 918,049 4851:
160,076 7980 | 1,617,530 | 11,328 | 987,376 | 4483.
* No record is kept of the tonnage of fishing vessels.
From the large and increasing quantity of coal
annually bronght into the port of London, consider-
able contention has been created of late years be-
tween different parties interested in the occupation
of the Pools. The usual daily number of collier
ships at work—discharging cargoes—is about 150,
and there is usually, also, from 350 to 400 coal-
harees, or ‘‘craft,” receiving coal from the ships for
the purpose of carrying it up the river to the different
coal wharfs, or going down empty. There is also
always a @reater or less number of colliers in the river
waiting their turn to go up to the Lower Pool, as well
as empty ones waiting for ballast or going down the
river. Repeated complaints have been made of all
this, as a great obstruction to the general navigation,
and Collier Docks have been suggested as a remedy.
Ten or eleven years ago a bill was brought into Par-
lament for making a Collier Dock in the Isle of Dogs,
but the project was abandoned. There is at present
a fresh project on foot. But the coal-merchants object
to Collier Docks. They say, that while coal is both a
bulky and a heavy article, and therefore necessarily
requires room in the harbour for the shipping connected
with it, it is an article which can but little bear repeated
unshipments, or transfers from place to place, before it
reaches the consumer. ‘The expense of bringing up
thirty-five tous of :coal in a barge from a collier in the
Pool to a coal-wharf above Waterloo Bridge is stated
at 13s.—7s. for the hire, or wear and tear of the barge,
and 6s. as the lighterman’s wages for the day. To
uuship this coal from the barge into the coal merchant’s
warehouses, and from thence again to send it to the
consumer, causes an additional expense of from Is, to
ls. 6d. per ton, exelusive of cartage on land. Every
movement, im fact, deteriorates the quality of the coal,
and increases the expense of transit. The coal-mer-
chants, therefore, prefer allowing the coal to lie in their.
own barges afloat as long as they can, or until it is:
purchased, whole barge-loads being often sold at a time,
and delivered to the purchaser from the river. It is
their opinion, speaking eenerally, that docks could not be
constructed large enough to accommodate their barges,
and if they were compelled to warehouse the coal in
docks, it would add materially to the time, trouble, and
expense now required. But it seems unreasonable that
so large a portion of the Thames should be occupied by
one branch of commerce, however important, as it
doubtless is, to the metropolis at large. !
When a collier’s cargo is purchased, the purchaser is
hound, by a rule of the coal trade, to unship it at the
rate of not less than forty-nine tons a day. ‘There are
150 meters, or weighers of coals, in the port of London,
who are appointed by a committee of the coal trade.
This committee consists of nine coal buyers, or mer-
chants, ande nine factors, or sellers, elected ‘by the re-
spective branches ’of the trade at:eeneral meetings held
for that purpose. . The meters are paid ‘at- the rate of
2d. a ion for the quantity which they deliver, and their
average individual earnings amount to abont 1187.
a-year. \- S96
We naturally inquire by what dele@ated power the
Lord Mayor of London exercises his functions of pro-
viding for the care of the river and the harbour. He
was accustomed to hold courts of conservancy, two for
each of the four counties through which that portion of
the river runs which is under his care—namely, Middle-
sex and Surrey, and Essex and Kent, at which persons
guilty of encroachments or nuisances ‘were proceeded
against. ‘There is’still an annual sum of 300/. charged
in the accounts as the expenses of conservancy juries.
But since the commencement of the present century
(under the provisions of the act for constructing the
West India Docks), the practical superintendence of
the river has been committed toa committee of the
4837.)
corporation, called the ‘“‘ Navigation and Port of London
Committee,’ having harbour-masters acting under it.
There are four of these harbour-masters, having salaries
of 500/., 400/., 350/., and 300/. Yespectively. Other
officers are also connected with the care of the river
and harbour—a surveyor of the Port of London; a
water-bailiff, with his assistants; a superintendent of
mooring-chains, &c. The average annual expense of
the harbour service, taking five years ending with 1835,
is 6115/. An annual sum of 2467/. is spent on the
conservancy of the river; making for river and harbour
an annual charge of 8582/. ‘The members of the
Navigation and Port of London Committee perform, of
course, their duties gratuitously ; but an annual sum of
500. is allowed them to defray their expenses.
There is another body which is connected with the
river Thames. ‘This is the corporation of the Trinity
House, established in the reign of Henry VIII. It
has extensive and.varied powers connected with the in-
terests of British shipping and navigation, having the
care of lighthouses, beacons, buoys, &c. Its principal
business with the Thames 1s the licensing of pilots, the
cleansing of the bed of the river, and the supplying of
vessels with ballast, of which it has the exclusive privi-
lege, and from which, in the year 1822, it drew a suin of
25,2201. ‘The amount of ballast taken from the river
was 422,113 tons, on which the expenses are stated at
23,036/., leaving only a clear profit of 2,184.
The corporation of the city of London look to the
Trinity House for the removal of shoals in the river,
while the Trinity House, however willing to do so,
do not feel themselves warranted in lifting anything
but what will be serviceable for ballast—mud, clay, &c.
being unsuited for that purpose. ‘The consequence of
this want of a clear definition of duties has been inju-
rious to the river. Captain Frederick Bullock, who
has been for some years under the orders of the Admi-
ralty surveying’ the Thames, stated that the Pools were
excavated into holes and hills; ‘‘ the Upper Pool is full
of shoals, the Lower Pool is a little better.” In the
Lower Pool is the Limekiln shoal, which projects
about one-third across the river; in Limehouse Reach
there is the Whiting shoal, which extends the whole
way across, except a narrow, intricate channel: large
ships cannot pass over this shoal till half-tide. Oppo-
site to Greenwich there is another shoal, at Blackwall
there is the ‘“‘ Middle Ground,” and Bugsby’s Hole ‘is
one of the worst reaches in the river, having an exten-
sive shelf on either side, as well as a middle ground.
There are various other shoals in the river down to
Gravesend.
The Admiralty, on the part of the crown, has re-
peatedly questioned the extent of the ‘‘ city’s” juris-
diction on the river, on the plea that ‘** the crown, by
its prerogative, has the property in the sea, and in all
navigable rivers which have the flux and reflux of the
sea, and in every arin of the sea or navigable river, so
high as the sea flows, and this property extends as well
to the soil as the water.” It disputes, therefore, the
‘city’s ” lordshipof the soil. But the “ city” contends
that the conservancy of the river conveys with it the
lordship of the soil, and it has defended and exercised
its rights from a remote period.
The Committee of the House of Commons of last
year gave it as their opinion, that ‘* the various con-
flicting jurisdictions and claims of the Adimiralty, the
‘Trinity House, and the corporation of the city of Lon-
don, over the River Thames below the bridges, have
had a most injurious effect on the interests of naviga-
tion, and that it is desirable that they should be conso-
lidated and vested in some one responsible body, and
that. means should be found to provide for the removal
of shoals and obstructions in the river.”
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
235
| Law of Copyright.—The term allowed by the existing
law is curiously adapted to encourage the lightest works,
and to leave the noblest unprotected. Its little span is
ample for authors who seek only to amuse;—who, “ to be-
guile the time, look like the time ;”—who lend to frivolity
or corruption “lighter wings to fly ;’°—who sparkle, blaze,
and expire. These may delight for a season the fireflies on
the heaving sea of public opinion—the airy proofs of the
intellectual activity of the age ;—yet surely it is not just to
legislate for those alone, and deny all reward to that litera-
ture which aspires to endure. Let us suppose an author,
of true original genius, disgusted with the inane phraseology
which had usurped the place of poverty, and devoting him-
self from youth to its service ;—disdaining the gauds which
attract the careless, and unskilled in the moving accidents
of fortune—not seeking to triumph in the tempest of the
passions, but in the serenity which lies above them—whose
works shall be scoffed at—whose name made a by-word—
and yet who shall persevere in his high and holy course,
sradually impressing thoughtful minds with the sense of
truth made visible in the severest forms of beauty, until he
shall create the taste by which he shall be appreciated—
influence, one after another, the master-spirits of his age
—be felt pervading every part of the national literature,
softening, raising, and enriching it; and when at last he
shall find his confidence in his own aspirations justified;
and the name which once was the scorn admitted to be the
glory of his age—he shall look forward to the close of his
earthly career as tlie event that shall consecrate his fame,
and deprive his children of tle opening harvest he is begin-
ning to reap. As soon as his copyright becomes valuable
it is gone! This is no imaginary case—I refer to one who
“in this setting partof Time” has opened a vein of the
deepest sentiment and thought before unknown—who has
supplied the noblest antidote to the freezing effects of the
scientific spirit of the age—who, while he has detected that
poetry which is the essence of the greatest things, has cast
a glory around the lowliest conditions of humanity, and
traced out the subtle links by which they are connected with
the highest—of one whose name will now find an echo, not
only in the heart of the secluded student, but in that of the
busiest of those who are fevered by political controversy—
of William Wordsworth! Ought we not to requite such
a poet in some degree for the injustice of our boyliood ?
For those works, which are now insensibly quoted by our
most popular writers, the spirit of which now mingles with
our intellectual atmosphere, he probably has not received
through the long life he has devoted to his art, until lately,
as much as the same labour, with moderate talent, might
justly produce in a single year. Shall the law, whose term
has been amply sufficient to his scorners, now afford him
no protection because he has outlasted their scoffs, — because
his fame has been fostered amidst the storms, and is now
the growth, of years?—From Mr. Sergeant Talfourd’s
Speech on his motion to consolidate the Laws of Copy-
right, and to extend the term of 1ts duration.
‘
BRITISH FISHERIES.—No. XIV.
THe Oyster.
Tur natural history of the oyster might be supposed
to present few points of interest, its habits being cir-
cumscribed within a very narrow limit. This, however,
only renders the functions assigned to it more curious
and worthy of contemplation; and it will be found on
examination, that though its powers are confined, they
are not less admirably adapted to their several purposes,
than those of animals whose organization places them
higher in the scale of natnre. The cominon oyster
belongs to a large class of molluscs which are protected
by shells consisting of two principal pieces, and are
hence called bivaives. Their nervous or sentient system
‘is limited to the faculties of taste and touch, though by
some they are believed to be sensible of the difference
between darkness and light. Sir A. Carlisle (Hun-
terian Oration, 1826) states, on tle authority of fisher-
men, that “ oysters in confined beds may be seen, if the
water is clear, to close their shells whenever the shadow
of a boat passes over them.” ‘This, however, may also
be occasioned by the agitation of the or and does
236
not afford satisfactory proof of their being endowed
with the sense which is here presumed. No especial
organs for seeing have yet been discovered in the oyster ;
and yet, according to the same authority, ‘* every part
of its exterior seems to be sensible to light, sounds,
odours, and liquid stimulants.” If an oyster happens
to be cast on the shore, it soon dies; but if deposited
in places which are flooded at high water, they will
keep their shells closed when it ebbs, and thus preserve
their existence. It is said that when the tide flows in
upon them, they lay with the hollow shell downwards,
and on its reflux they turn on the other side. Each
oyster is perfect of itself, that is, capable individnally of
reproducing its kind. The breeding mouths are May,
June, and July, at which period they are said to be
sick, or “in the milk.” Oysters are not ready for the
table until about eighteen months after their being
spawned, and not in perfection until two years and a
half, or three years afterwards; and the fishermen state
that they ought not to be taken of a less size than two
and a half inches wide. ‘Their age is distinguished
by certain marks on the shell. Sir Everard Home
(Croonian Lecture, 1826) regards ‘* the mode of pro-
pagation of the oyster as more simple than that of
many plants.”
filled with a milky fluid, which contains a large
number of eggs, of a whitish colour. In: March
they are visible with a microscope, and. in June
they have reached their full size, and are called the
“spat.” Sir Ieverard Home says,—‘* At the time of
their detachment a tube is seen, not to be detected
before, originating in an opening between the two
ovaril. ‘This is the oviduct; and the embryo, when it
enters it, has already acquired a shell. About the end
of June the young begin to leave the ovarii; and at
the end of July none are found, either in them or in
the oviduct.” These animalcule become attached to
stones, rocks, pieces of wood, or any other substance to
which they can cling. Places which abound with mud
or sea-weed are injurious to their propagation. Oysters
are therefore necessarily gregarious; and Sir Anthony
Carlisle remarks, that ‘it is by no means clear that
this congregation may not be a necessary condition for
the foundation of the ova, and that there may not be a
mutual diffusion of some influence analogous to that of
the milt in fishes.” It has sometimes been asserted
that oysters have been found growing on trees; but
such an anomaly is easily accounted for. In the West
Indies the mango tree grows so close to the creeks and |
inlets, that its branches dip into the water, and oysters
are found attached to them. The branches may he
cut, and the oysters carried to the market firmly ad-
hering to them,
‘I'he locomotive powers of the oyster are creater than
might be conceived, and this part of its organization
is perhaps the most curious part of its natural history.
The cockle, which, belong’s to the same class of animals,
can spring from the bottom of a boat over the gunwale ;
and yet, to judge from its external appearance, it seems
utterly incapable of any movement whatever. Others
of this class, whose locomotive power might be regarded
equally defective, can make for themselves a furrow in
the sandy bottoms wherein to lie hid. The muscular
organs by which locomotion is accomplished by the
oyster are thus described :—‘ The first consists in the
adaptation of muscular fibre to the movement of the
valves. ‘These adductor muscles are attached to the
opposite points in each valve, and their office is to close
the valves by their contractility, or suffer them to ex-
pand by their relaxation. The second or true loco-
inotive organ is called the foot, and is formed of various
layers of fibres, which by their counteraction bestow on
it great power of motion. The hinge is entirely formed
by the inner layer of shell. To this hinge is superadded
THE PENNY MAGAZINE
In the breeding season the ovary is
[June 24,
a ligament, which is elastic, and the contraction of
which overcomes the resistance of the hinge, and shuts
the valves close, or allows them to open at pleasure *.”
When the animal dies, the shell gapes, as the muscle
has lost. its power. . Oysters feed oh marine vegetable
matter.. They become green in three or four days, if
put into small pits in the salt marshes where the water
is about three feet deep. ‘The sea-star (Asterias gla-
cralis) destroys many oysters, by clasping its rays
round the shell, and forcing it open. Crabs and lob-
sters are also destructive in a bed of oysters. The shell
of the oyster is composed of carbonate of lime, and
about a century ago was used medicinally in a powdered
state. When calcined, the lime may be employed in
the interior of buildings, being pure and white, but it
wants tenacity.
% f vty
RX fi
A
LSl om Ye
ed
[ Oyster Dredger. |
There are several varieties of the edible oyster dis-
tributed in the different quarters of the globe. In
Spain they are found of a reddish colour. There are
others elsewhere which are dark-coloured, and some
are of several bright colours. ‘The oysters taken at
Dieppe are of a greenish hue. Although found in
various parts of the coast, it generally happens that a
preference is given to those which are obtained from
some particular bed. In England, the “ native” oysters
obtained about forty miles from London, at Milton, in
Kent, are in the highest repute, and are consumed in
every part of England. The beds at Colchester, Mal-
don, Feversham, Queenborough, Rochester, and those
in the Swale and Medway are also highly esteemed;
and supply the London market. There are beds in the
Isles of Wight and Jersey, and on the coast of Wales,
which produce in large quantities oysters for the con-
suinption of the neighbouring districts. In Scotland
the beds in the Frith of Forth, and in Musselburgh Bay,
yield oysters of good flavour, and of a large size. ‘The
Musselburgh are most in repute, and are called “ Pan-
doors,” an appellation which they have obtained from
being taken close by the doors of the salt-pans. The
‘* Poldoodies”’ are also oysters of excellent flavour. The
Carlingford oyster, on the coast of the county Louth,
are said to be of very superior flavour. In France, the
oysters from Brittany have long been famous. Those
* « Penny Cyclopedia, article Concuivera.
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—————-
|
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THE PENNY MAGAZINE
237
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[Fleet of Oyster Boats. ]
from Dieppe are extensively consumed in Paris; but the
oysters obtained near Cancalle, a town near St. Malo,
have the highest reputation. One of the most cele-
brated resorts of the gourmand in the French capital
is known by the appellation of “ Les Rochers de Can-
calle.” In the United States, the different sorts of
oysters brought to market vary in price according to
the repute enjoyed by the beds from whence they are
taken. . @ |
The trade in oysters has been an object of considera-
tion in England for many centuries, and it now ranks
in importance with the herring, pilchard, and’ salmon
fisheries. ‘The excellence of the Iinglish oysters was
appreciated by the epicures of Rome, and the forma-
tion of artificial beds was an object of attention soon
after the Roman conquest of the island. Although
oysters are among the natural productions of our coasts,
yet this source is but little depended upon, the chief
supply being derived from artificial beds. Brood, or
young oysters of a size not exceeding a penny piece, Is
obtained from various parts, and carefully planted.
The beds at Cancalle are sometimes resorted to for this
purpose by persons from England. The superior
means adopted for fattening oysters when transplanted
is one of the chief causes of their excellence ; for if they
were not thus cultivated, their flavour would soon be-
come less delicate. Nearly all the oysters brought to
London have been improved by this means. The
breeding-places are generally held on leases by a co-
partnery, consisting of a considerable number of indi-
viduals. The Abbey of Feversham enjoyed the right
of fishing within the manor of Milton until the dis-
solution; and it afterwards came into the hands of a
company, called the ‘“‘ Free Dredgers,’ governed by
rules and by-laws agreed upon at the court-baron of
the manor. The difficulty of protecting the rights of
individuals often occasions disputes between the lessees
of an oyster-bed and the fishermen. In some places
the fishermen contend that unfair modes of dredging
are practised; and also that from those parts of the
coast where no peculiar rights exist the brood is carried |
away and planted in the beds which are protected ; thus
making the weaker party contribute to the success of
those who are already in possession of many important
advantages. It is certain, however, that the protected
beds are a much more productive source of profit, both
to the dredgers and the public, than those which, from
various causes, are left at the mercy of parties who are
not locally interested in their preservation. ‘The oyster
season formerly commenced at Billingsgate on the 5th
of August, at midnight ; but the disorders which ensned
from the crowds which the occasion collected at such
an unseasonable hour, led to an alteration two or three
years ago; and the first sales for the season now take
place on the 4th of August, at noon. ‘The season ter-
minates on the 12th of May; and hence the popular
observation, that oysters are always in season during
those months in which there is an “r.” The sale of
oysters is, however, carried on illegally during’ the
breeding-season, although they are then unwholesome.
The Clerk of Billingsgate Market is empowered to
seize those which are offered for sale within the juris-
diction of the Lord Mayor; but the magistrates at
Rochester and Milton cannot proceed against the
offending parties, who often escape with impunity.
During the season, the consumption of oysters in
London is immense, and no article of diet enters so
generally into the consumption of every class. The
number of dealers is proportionately large, and the
poorest streets are not without one or two, generally
supplied with the large but less delicate flavoured
oyster. .They are kept for consumption in tubs con-
taining water, in which a quantity of salt is dissolved,
and a little oatmeal is put in, which keeps the oysters
in condition. The ease and rapidity with which oysters
are opened by the attendant of an oyster-room will
perhaps surprise those who have never made more
than a single attempt. Oysters at Christmas are sent
down into the country in barrels to an enormous
extent, in return for which supplies of turkeys and
other country cheer are received in town. The long
stages, about this period, are for many days loaded
with several hundred barrels of oysters, and frequently
do not take their usual complement of passengers
in consequence; and notwithstanding the aid of a
couple of additional horses, the coaches are often
one-third longer on the road. At Billingsgate the.
oysters are not brought into the usual place of sale,
238
but are sold out of the boats which lie alongside the
market, in quantities not under one peck. Consider-
able quantities are sent from Rochester, Colchester,
and other beds in the neighbonrhood, to Holland,
Germany, and other parts of the Continent. At the
opening of the season, the line of dealers extends
along Thames Street and over London Bridge. About
200,000 bushels of oysters are exported annually from
the island of Jersey, where 250 boats, 1500 men, and
1000 women and children, are employed in the season.
The demand for oysters, wherever it exists along our
coasts, creates a profitable source of employment to a
class of men who necessarily become experienced sea-
men.
Dredging for oysters is necessarily carried on in fleets,
as the beds lie within a comparatively small space. It
is an interesting sight to see one of these fleets putting
out early in the morning for their daily operations.
The cuts represent an individual dredger and a fleet of
oyster-boats. 'The boats usually carry a man and a
boy, or two men, and are about fifteen feet long. The
dredge is about eighteen pounds’ weight, and 1s re-
quired to be heavier on a hard than on a soft bottom.
Fach boat is provided with two dredges; but the fisher-
men coniplain, that in the early part of the season too
great a number of dredges, and those of too heavy a
kind, are used, which injure the beds, and the latter
part of the season is thus rendered less profitable than
the commencement.
A VISIT TO CLAIRVAUX.
[Concluded from No, 334.)
TuE party afterwards visited the men: they found
them equally silent with the women, but much more
inquisitive; every head was turned towards them with
a lively curiosity. The first workshop was that of
waxed cloth, which occupies fifty workmen: they had
all the appearance of liberty, and differed in nothing
from those employed elsewhere. The same remark was
made in the other workshops in the prison.
The most important portion of the work is the cotton
manufactory, in which there are 120 looms, employing
350 workmen, who make 1400 ells on an average daily.
The writer expatiates on the endless galleries filled with
looms, on the dense clouds of palpable dust in which
one loses one’s self, on the creaking and thundering
noises of the machinery, and wonders that this manu-
factory is not set apart for more serious crimes than
those committed by the more fortunate wax-cloth workers.
One of the cotton manufacturers appears to have been
more particularly unlucky: he was placed in a corner,
dark, dirty, and deprived of air, and employed in
turning an immense wheel, ** with the rapidity of four
horses in a gallop.” ‘* The perspiration was running
from his body, which was almost naked; his eyes were
starting out of his head, and his breast heaving rapidly
with fatigue.” ‘This recalled the idea of what the writer
designates the Trade-mill of London, ‘a diabolical
invention unknown in France.” He says it is ‘¢ a bar-
barous punishment, which is attempted to be justified
THE PENNY
by its utility, in a country where everything profitable |
is considered just.” He goes on to say, ‘‘ one shudders
to think that, should one of the unfortunate wretches
stop for a moment, either exhausted by fatigue, or
having his attention drawn away, he runs a risk of
being crushed by the spokes of the merciless wheel,
which continues with indifference its eternal round. The
wheel of Clairvaux is quite another thing.” We should
certainly be inclined to think so, and to consider the
treadmill a very easy occupation compared with the
immense wheel rolling with the rapidity of * four gal-
loping horses,’ &c. &e.
The incorrigibles were em- |
MAGAZINE. [JunE 24,
pleyed here in picking cotton: there were about twenty
at this occupation at the time of the visit.
In all the workshops the hour for beginning is six
in the morning: the work-people rest half an hour,
from half-past ten until eleven, and thence continue
until four o’clock.
In the hours of repose the prisoners may attend a
school of mutual instruction established within the
walls. It isa general remark, that almost all the men at
Clairvaux eagerly embrace the opportunity of receiving
instruction, but that the women mostly neglect it. The
children are compelled to attend. ‘The writer states the
progress made at this school to be truly extraordinary.
The profit of the work done in the house is divided
into three portions; one of which is paid to the pro-
prietor of the workshop, and the other two go to the
prisoner; one portion is paid to him immediately, for
pocket-money, and the other kept as a fund for his use
when he leaves the prison. ‘The pocket-money may be
laid out in a shop which is kept within the wails. The
gain varies much according to the industry of the work-
men; some have received as much as 700 francs in a
year. The money they receive on quitting the prison
appears to have a considerable influence on the future
life of the prisoners. It is stated that a man who goes
away with 1000 francs (40/.) rarely comes back aeain.
Those who gained less than half that sum were almost
sure to return. Perhaps the habits of industry which
must have been acquired by the former to get so much,
may have been found as valuable a preventive of sub-
sequent crime as the money itself.
The sanatory regulations of the prison are extremely
eood, though comprising nothing more than cleanliness,
ventilation, and regular employment. During the time
when the cholera actually decimated the environs of
Clairvaux not one single case appeared in the prison.
There was an infirmary within the walls, which con-
tained forty patients at the time of the writer's visit ;
this was just one in forty of the whole number of
prisoners. ‘The building comprises four ranges of
arcades, surrounding a very pretty square, planted with
a great variety of flowers, and every care is taken to
render it as cheerful and comfortable a residence as is
practicable.
A number of letter-boxes are placed about different
parts of the prison, to receive anything the inmates
may choose to put there; such as complaints of the
conduct of the guards, or the discovery of any plots
that may be hatching. Several conspiracies are said
to have been detected by these means.
The food of the establishment is described as being
very good. ‘The writer saw about 200 Ibs. of rice,
with some bags of potatoes for the day’s dinner, and
mountains of excellent bread, divided into portions of
a pound and a half each. ‘The bread for the soup was
still better. ‘The whole is furnished by a contractor.
The children were shown to the party in their holiday
dresses, having been gratifted with a remission of schoo!
duties in honour of their visiters: they seemed well in
health, but were all remarkable for ugliness; not one
odod-looking amongst them. ‘Their occupation is glove-
making, at which their dexterity is remarkable.
There are scarcely any statistical details in the ac-
count from which our information is obtained. <A few
figures give the proportion of educated and uneducated
convicts. It is strongly in favour of the value of in-
struction in preventing crime, that only twenty-eight in
a hundred of all the prisoners had any education, before
their arrival; but the educated who were in prison were
less docile than the illiterate, and more frequently in-
curred punishment. Of those who came back a second
time to prison, thirty-one in a hundred had some sort
of education; the rest were wholly illiterate. It is
impossible to form exact inferencés, without more
1837.]
positive data of the relative numbers of the educated
and uneducated out of prison; but unless the unedu-
cated portion of the population in France predominate
ereatly, the above facts show that a smaller proportion
of the educated commit crimes than of the ignorant.
On returning to Bar-sur-Aube, the writer could not
help making comparisons which must have shaken his
belief in the policy of the regulations of Clairvaux. He
saw the prison for simple misdemeanours, a sort of cage
in two compartments, where thirty persons, men, women,
and children were crowded together in filth and dark-
ness. ‘“ Here,” says he, “ we punish errors, there
crimes. Criminals are taken care of, they
have the comforts of life, every alleviation of captivity,
the benefit of employment. Simple delinquents are
punished with severe cold and stifling heat, deprivation
of air and space, neglect, and dangerous idleness.
Something is about to be done to remedy the evil, but
they will still have too much reason to envy their more
cuilty neighbours.” We think it may safely be con-
cluded, from all the facts detailed in the above visit,
that although the institutors of this great penitentiary
have undoubtedly made it a comfortable residence, and
have perhaps succeeded in forming an unexpensive or
even profitable house of detention, yet so far as is re-
quired to deter the hardened criminal, and reform him
who is less deep in depravity, the difficult problem of
ptison discipline has not been solved at Clairvaux,
principally from the mistaken humanity which does not
sufficiently look to the prevention of crime.
ee e« oe oe ¢
THE SECRET TRIBUNALS OF WESTPHALIA.
“Tue gloom of midnight will rise to the mind of many
a reader at the name of the Secret Tribunals of West-
phalia: a dimly-lighted cavern beneath the walls of
some castle, or, peradventure, Swiss /ostelrie, wherein
sit black-robed judges in solemn silence, will be present
to his imagination, and he is prepared with breathless
anxiety to peruse the details of deeds without a name*.”
The origin and history of the Secret Tribunals of
Westphalia are involved in great obscurity. No
strauger dared to be present at any place where a tri-
bunal was sitting, for instant death would have followed
his detection; and the same fate awaited the member
who betrayed the secrets of the society. Atneas Sylvius
(afterwards Pope Pius II., Seeretary of the’ Emperor
Frederick IU{1.) states, that though the number of the
members usually exceeded 100,000, no motive had ever
induced a single one to be faithless to his trust.
Various conjectural opinions have been advanced to
account for the origin of these singular tribunals. The
author of ‘ Secret Societies’ leans to that view of the
matter which represents them as. growing out of the
disorganized state of society in Germany about the
beginning of the thirteenth century. At that time
“anarchy and feuds prevailed to an alarming extent ;
the castles of the nobles became dens of robbers; and
law and justice were nowhere to be found.’ It is there-
fore not an unnatural supposition that a body of men
might band themselves together for mutual protection ;
that, too weak to cope publicly with the public dis-
order, they made their association a strictly secret oue,
and when a powerful person was guilty of a crime, and
sentenced by a tribunal to death, they were compelled
to fall suddenly upon him to execute the sentence ;
that, acting with some degree of impartiality, as they
appear to have done, a fear of them began to fall upon
* «Secret Societies of the Middle Ages’—* Library of Enter-
taining Knowledge.’ The author adds, in a note, “The romantic
accounts of the Secret Tribunals will be found in Sir W. Scott’s
translation of Gothe’s Gétz von Berlichingen, and in his House
of Aspen, and Anne of Geierstien, From various passages in Sir
W. Scott’s biographical and other essays, it is plain that he
believed such to be the true character of the Secret Tribunals,” _
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
the count, were the~ assessors, or schdppen.
239
men,—for the oppressed felt that there was a concealed
hand ready to avenge their wrong, and the guilty, even
though shut up in a castle, were not secure; and that,
at last, the numbers of the confederacy increasing, and
their power extending, the Secret Tribunals assumed to
themselves the right of judging all crime whatever
committed within their assumed jurisdiction.
At all events, whatever were the causes of the origin
of the Fehm-gerichte, or Secret Tribunals, they were in
existence and in operation in Westphalia by the middle
of the thirteenth century. The members of the con-
federacy were divided into classes: the tribunal lord,
who had his peculiar district, within which he had the
power of erecting tribunals, and beyond which his
authority did not extend. He either presided in person
in his court, or he appointed a count to supply his place.
There was in general but one count to each tribunal ;
but instances occur of there being as many as seven or
eieht. The count presided in the court, and the cita-
tions of the accused proceeded before him. Next to
These
formed the main body and strength of the society.
They were nominated by the count, with the approba-
tion of the tribunal lord. Two persons, who were
already in the society, were obliged to vouch on oath
for the fitness of the candidate to be admitted. The
schéppen were divided into two classes,—the knightly
and the simple; ‘‘for as the maxim that every man
should be judged by his peers prevailed universally
during the middle ages, it was necessary to conform to
it also in the Fehm-tribunals.”
Previous to the admission of the schdppen to the
secrets of the society, they were termed Ignorant ;
when they had been initiated, they were called Know-
ing,'or Fehmenotes. It was only these last who were
admitted to the secret tribunal. ‘The initiation of a
schéppe was attended with a good deal of ceremony.
He appeared bare-headed before the assembled tribunal,
and was there questioned respecting his qualifications.
Then, kneeling down, with the thumb and forefinger
of his right hand on a naked ‘sword and halter, he
pronounced a solemn oath, in which, among’ other
things, he promised to ‘‘conceal the holy Fehms from
wife and child, from father and mother, from sister and
brother, from fire and wind, from all that the sun shines
on and the rain covers, from all that is between sky and
ground,” &c.* |
“The duty of the initiated was to go through the
country to serve citations, and to trace out and denounce
evil-doers; orif they caught them in the fact, to execute
instant justice upon them. ‘They were also the count’s
assessors when the tribunal: sat. For that purpose
seven at least were required to be present, all belonging
to the county in which the court was held; those be-
longing to other counties might attend, but they could
not act as assessors; they only formed a part of the
bystanders of the court. Of these there were frequently
some hundreds present. All the initiated, of every
degree, might go on foot and on horseback through the
country, for daring was the man who would presume to
injure them, as certain death was his inevitable lot.
‘When an affair was brought before a Fehm-court,
the first point to be determined was whether it was a
matter of Fehm jurisdiction. - Should such prove to be
the case, the accused was summoned to appear ana
answer the charge before the public court. All sorts
of persons, Jews and heathens included, might be sum-
moned before this court, at’ which the uninitiated
schéppen also’ gave attendance, and which was as
public as any court in Germany. If the accused did
not appear, or appeared and could not clear himself,
the affair was transferred to the Secret Court. Civil
matters also, which, on account of a denial of satisfac-
tion, were brought before the Fehm-court, were, m like
‘* See the oath at p. 349 of * Secret Societies, .
240
manner, in cases of extreme contumacy, transferred
hither.” .
The author of ‘ Secret Societies’ repudiates the notion
(derived, he says, from plays and romances) that the
secret tribunals “‘ were always held in subterranean
chambers, or in the deepest recesses of impenetrable
forests, while night, by pouring her deepest gloom over
them, added to their awfulJness and solemnity.” ‘They
were not held in woods or in vaults, and rarely even
under a roof. The situation most frequently selected
for holding a court was some place under the blue
canopy of heaven, for the free German still retained
the predilection of his ancestors for open space and ex-
pansion. A favourite place was in the neighbourhood
of trees, from which the tribunals sometimes took their
naines—as the tribunal in the orchard, under the pear-
tree or the hawthorn, at the elder, at the broad oak, &c.
The Fehm-tribunals had three different modes of
procedure—namely, seizing the criminal in the fact,
proceeding against him inquisitorially or accusatortly.
It was requisite that three schdppen, or initiated,
should be present in seizing and punishing a criminal
taken in the fact... The legal lanruage of Saxony gave
creat extent to the term ‘‘ taken in the fact.”
of murder, those that were taken with weapons in their
hands ‘were considered as taken in the fact; and- in
cases of theft, the person who had the. key of a place
in which stolen articles were found was considered as
the thief, unless he could: prove that they came there
«without aa knowledge. The cases, however, i in which
three of the initiated came upon a criminal in the com-
mission: of a ‘crime, and-acted as accusers, witnesses,
‘judges, and executioners, must, have been of 1 rare oc-
-currence. Yet j
By the inquisitorial process, the man whom common
fame charged openly.and distinctly with a crime was
not cited A appear before: the court, or vouchsafed a
hearing. ' Usually, one of the initiated denounced him,
and the court examined into the ‘evidence. — If it was
‘deemed sufficient, he was outlawed, or forfehmed, and
his. name was. inscribed‘ in the blood- book. - A-sentence
‘was, drawn out, in -which: all princes, jords, nobles,
towns—every ‘person, in short, especially the initiated,
were called upon to lend their aid to justice. If the
person who was forfehmed was uninitiated, he had no
means of knowing his danger till the halter was actually
about his neck.
hung, without a moment’s delay, on a tree by the road-
side: if he resisted, he might be knocked down and
killed; and in that case the captors, bound the dead
body to a tree, aud stuck their knives beside it, to inti-
mate that he had not been slain by robbers, but had
been executed in the name of the emperor. But it was
only when crimes were of great magnitude, and the
voice of fame loud and constant, that the inquisitorial
process could be properly adopted.
By the. accusatorial process the person had to be
served with a summons, written on parchment, and-
sealed with at least seven seals—those of the count and
six assessors. For a good and. legal service, it was re-
quisite that two schOppen should either serve the accused
openly or clandestinely at his residence, or at the place
where he had taken refuge. Should the accused be a
mere vagabond, one who had no fixed residence, the.
course adopted was to send six weeks and three days
before the day the court was to sit, and post up four
summonses at a cross-road which faced the fonr car-
dinal points, placing a piece of imperial money, with
each. This was esteemed good and valid service; and
if the accused did not appear, the court proceeded to
act upon it. The summons of a town or community
was addressed to all the male inhabitants.
“ Notwithstanding the privileges which the members
of the society enjoy ed, and the precautions which were
employed to ensure their safety ; and moreover, the
THE PENNY MAGAZINE,
A forfehmed person, when seized, was |
[J UNE 24, 1837,
deadly vengeance likely to be taken on any one who
should aggrieve them, we are not to suppose the service
of a summons to appear before a Fehm-court to have
been absolutely free from danger. The tyrannic and
self-willed noble, when in his own strong castle, and
surrounded by his dependents, might not scruple to
inflict summary chastisement on the audacious men
who presumed to summon him to answer for his crimes
before a tribunal ; the magistrates of a town also might
indignantly spurn at the citation to appear before a
IFehm-court, and treat its messengers as offenders. To
badd against these Faser, it was determined that it
So ie a a
the ; na of the ia of ee accused, or to the nearest
alms-house. The schdppen employed were then to
desire’ the watchmen, or some person who was going
by, to inform the accused of the summons being there,
and they were to take away with them a chip cut from
the gate’ or door, as a proof of the service for the
court.
“If the oe was pee to Soak the summons,
‘he had only to repair on the appointed day to the place
In cases |
where the court was to be held; the summons being his
protection. ‘Those who would persuade us that the
Fehm-courts were held by night in secret places say
that the mode appointed for the accused to meet the
‘court. was for him to repair,- three- -quarters: ‘of an hour
before : midnight,
to the. next cross- roads, - where a
schoéppe was “always Waiting for him, who bound his
eyes, and led him to where the court was sitting. ‘This,
however, is all mere fiction; for the place where the
court was to be held was expressly mentioned in every
summons.” If the criminal was présent, and ‘found
guilty, and his sentence were a capital one; he was
immediately executed; and if he happened. to be one
of the initiated, he was hung seven feet higher than
any other, as being ‘the ‘ereater criminal, Should the
accused not have appeared, and been, in consequence,
outlawed, he was forfehmed by an awful curse...
During the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries the
secret tribunals were very powerful; and as long as
| they preserved the appearance of adhering to. strict
justice in their proceedings, they were well calculated
for a turbnient and unsettled state of society. But,
like all other similar associations, they degenerated,
and that too, in much the same proportion as, from the -
improving state of society, their necessity and use
became less apparent. ‘The awe and veneration in
which they were held were dissipated by acts of op-
pression and injustice; men began to find out that
they could brave their power; and by the beginning of
the sixteenth century they were denounced as ‘* semi-
naries of villains.” A case is stated by the author of
the work from which this article has been extracted as
occurring in the year 1580, which strongly marks how
the secret tribunals had lost their original character,
and the indignation caused by which doubtless greatly
aided to deprive them of their remaining influence.
“ Though up to the present century a shadow of them
remained in some parts of Westphalia, they have long
been only a subject of antiquarian curiosity, as one of
the most striking phenomena of the middle ages. They
were ouly suited to a particular state of society ; while
that existed they were a benefit to the world; when it
was gone they remained at variance with the state
which succeeded, became pernicious, were hated and
despised, lost all their infinence and reputation, shared
the fate of everything human, whose cliaracter is insta-
bility aud decay, and have left only their memorial be-
hind them.”
*,* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at
59, Lincoln’s Inn Fields,
LONDON: CHARLES KNIGHT & CO,, 22, LUDGATE STREET.
Printed by WittIAm Chowzs and Sons, Stamford Street
FMHonthlp Supplenient of
THE PENNY MAGAZINE
OF TH
society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge.
3306. J
Wiay Sli to June 30, 1837.
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- [View of Derwent Water. ]
In our two last Monthly Supplements (Nos. 326 and
331) a short account has been given of the Highlands
of Scotland, intended principally for the use of pedes-
trians, but more or less applicable to the euidance of
all classes of travellers. This and the following Sup-
plement will be employed ina similar sketch of the
Enelish Lakes. The remarks in No. 326 concerning
equipment, expense, and modes of travelling, need not
be repeated here. It is to be remembered, however,
that the days’ journeys among our English Lakes are
shorter, the climate on the whole warmer and better,
and the heights of the mountains not so great; and
that, as the pedestrian need never be many days sepa-
rated from his portmanteau, he may, if he thinks fit,
make his coat-pocket fulfil the purpose of a knapsack.
The accommodations, everywhere, will be found suffi-
ciently good, and the scale of expense is not materially
different from that of the Hiehlands. }
The principal approaches to this beautiful district
are, by Penrith to Keswick, and by Kendal to Bowness
or Ainbleside. <A third may be mentioned by sea from
Liverpool to Whitehaven, between which ports steam-
boats are contimually running. In this case Keswick
Vou. VI. |
will be the first point of attraction; and the stranger
will do well to follow (at the expense of a long and
severe hill) the old road from Cockermouth to Keswick,
in preference to the new one (though this is beautiful)
through Wythop Woods, and along Bassenthwaite-water,
for the sake of the magnificent view, which introduces
him to the Lake country, from the brow of Whinlatter,
over the vale of Derwent. If, however, the choice of
a route is not determined by convenience, that by
Kendal and Windermere is perhaps to be preferred.
[It adds somewhat to the pleasure of the tonr, espe-
cially to pedestrians, that from the unusual compactness,
and comparatively small extent of this mountain group,
the whole of it may be conveniently visited in short
excursions of two, three, or four days, from certain
places selected as head-quarters, returning to them as
a sort of home, when fatigue or bad weather may render
quiet desirable. Ambleside and Keswick will be the
places most commonly selected. At both the inns are
vood, lodgings abundant and comfortable, all sorts of
accommodation in the way of carriages, sacldle-horses,
or boats, is readily procured, and the circulating libraries
and museums offer resources against ennul im wet
=~ >
f
242
weather, which cannot be had at the small village
inns. |
The roads here, as elsewhere, have of late been much
improved ; still there are comparatively few over which
a common travelling-carriage can be taken with ease,
or even safety. We shall wive a very short outline of
those which are passable for such vehicles, and then
proceed to more minute description. The main road
is that through the heart of the country, from Kendal
to Whitehaven, by Ambleside, Keswick, and Cocker-
mouth. ‘This, from the first view of Windermere to
the last view of Bassenthwaite, a distance of some thirty
miles, is one uninterrupted succession of beautiful and
varied scenery, in the course of which six lakes, each of
peculiar and distinct character, are closely viewed, and
a mountain pass, of considerable elevation, is traversed
at Dunmail Raise. From Keswick another high road
leads to Penrith, distant eighteen miles. Ulswater can
be reached’ from Keswick, in a heavy carriage, by going
to Becksis, eleven miles on the Penrith road; thence
it is seven miles, through Matterdale, to Gowbarrow
Park, where the road descends on Ullswater, four miles
from Patterdale. Or there is a longer and easier way
by Penruddock and Dacre to Pooley Bridge, at the
foot of the lake. From Penrith, Lowther Castle may
be visited, and there is a practicable road continued
through Bampton as far as Hawes-water. Again, there
is a direct line from Penrith to Ambleside, distant
twenty-five miles, by Pooley Bridge, Patterdale, and
the pass of Kirkstone, where there is a long and la-
borious ascent. This road runs close along the banks
of Ulswater, which can scarcely be surpassed in beauty.
Coniston may be reached from Ambleside; from Bow-
ness, crossing the Ferry, by Esthwaite Water and
Hawkshead ; or from the low country to the south: it
is seen to most advantage by the latter route. The
level tract which intervenes between the mountains and
the sea may of course be traversed without difficulty ;
and excursions may be inade from it into Donnerdale
(as the vale of Duddon is called), Eskdale and Wast-
dale, by those who cannot cross the mountains to visit
these valleys. The chief object of interest which it
contains is the ruin of Furness Abbey, a wealthy mo-
nastery, which formerly enjoyed vast possessions, and
exercised extensive manorial rights over the neiehbour-
ing country. It is a fine ruin, and well worth a visit;
but it lies out of the way, being fifteen or sixteen miles
south from the foot of Coniston or of Windermere.
There is some pretty. scenery around it, and near UI-
verston, where the grounds of Couishead Priory are
much admired; but the natural beauties of this part of
the country are hardly sufficient to tempt the tourist’
thus far from the mountains. Calder Abbey is a pretty
ruin, though small; and Calder Bridge, hard by it, is
the best station from which to visit Wastwater, for those
who cannot traverse the pass of Sty Head. From
Calder Bridge there is a rough carriage-road by Lam-
plugh Cross, Lowes Water, and Scale Hill, to Keswick.
Crummock Water and Buttermere may be visited from
Scale Hill; and from Buttermere a short cut of nine
miles leads directly to Keswick, through the vale of
Newlands. The road, however, is narrow and stony,
and the ascent from Buttermere to the top of the pass
called Buttermere Hawse, extremely severe; it should
not be attempted with a heavy carriage, or without very
steady horses. Bassenthwaite Water,’ Derwent Water,
Wiudermere, and Coniston Water, are all of them en-
compassed by roads practicable for four-wheel carriages.
Short drives of course may be taken in different direc-
tions from different places; and there are many more
roads practicable for ight open cars. ,
The physical formation of this country is peculiar.
Mr. Wordsworth, mm his admirable ‘ Description of the
Scenery of the Lakes,’ has eompared it to a wheel, of
MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF
[JUNE 30,
which the nave is that central highest group of moun-
tains, of which Great Gavel, Scawfell, and Bowfell are
the principal points ; the spokes being represented by
a number of divergent valleys. ‘The resemblance is of
course rough and imperfect; but it still serves to con-
vey some notion of the structure, as it would be seen
on a bird’s-eye view from a sufficiently elevated poiut.
The spokes are, “‘ first, the vale of Langdale, which will
conduct the eye to the long lake of Winandermére,
stretched nearly to the sea, or rather to the sands of the
vast bay of Morecambe, serving here for the rim of this
imaginary wheel: let us trace it in a direction from the
south-east towards the south, and we shall next fix our
eyes upon the vale of Coniston, running up likewise from
the sea, but not (as all the other valleys do) to the nave
of the wheel, and therefore it may not inaptly be repre-
sented as a broken spoke, sticking in the rim. Look-
ing forth again, with an inclination towards the west,
we see immediately at our feet the vale of Duddon, in
which is no lake, but a copious stream, winding among
fields, rocks, and mountains, and terminatiug its course
in the sands of Duddon. The fourth vale next to be
observed, namely, that of the Esk, is of the saine
general character as the last, yet beautifully discrimi-
nated from it by peculiar features. Its stream passes
under the woody steep upon which stands Muncaster
Castle, and after forming a short and narrow estuary,
enters the sea below the small town of Ravenglass.
Next, almost due west, look down into the deep valley
of Wastdale, with its little chapel, and half a dozen
neat dwellings scattered upon a plain of meadow and
corn-ground, intersected with stone walls, apparently
innumerable, like a laree piece of lawless patchwork,
or an array of mathematical figures, such as in the
ancient schools of geometry might have been sportively
and fantastically traced out upon sand. Beyond this
little fertile plain lies, within a bed of steep mountains,
the long, narrow, stern, and desolate lake of Wastdale ;
and beyond this a dusky tract of level ground conducts
the eye to the Irish Sea. Next comes in view Enner-
dale, with its lake of bold and somewhat savage shores.
Its stream, the Ehen, or Enna, flowing through a soft
and fertile country, passes the town of Egremont, and
the ruins of the castle; then seeniing, like the other
rivers, to break the barrier of sand thrown up by the
winds on this tempestuous coast, enters the Irish Sea.
The vale of Buttermere, with the lake and village of
that name, and Crummock Water beyond, next present —
themselves. We will follow the main stream, the Cocker,
through the fertile and beautiful vale of Lorton, till it
is Jost in the Derwent, below the noble ruins of Cocker-
mouth Castle. Lastly, Borrowdale, of which the vale
of Keswick is only a continuation, stretching due north,
brings us to a point nearly opposite the vale of Winau-
dermere, with which we began. From this it will
appear that the image of a wheel, thus fur exact, is
little more than one-half complete; but the deficiency
on the eastern side may be supplied by the vales of
Wytheburn, Ulswater, Hawes-water, tle vale of Gras-
inmere and Rydal; none of these, however, ruil up
to the central point between Great Gavel and Scawfell.
From this, hitherto our central point, take a flight of
not more than* four or five miles eastward to the ridve
of Helvellyn, and you will look down upon Wytheburn
and St. John’s Vale, which are a branch of the vale of
Keswick; upon Ulswater, stretching due east, and not
far beyond to the south-east, (though from this point
not visible) lie the lake and vale of Hawes-water; and
lastly the vale of Grasmere, Rydal, and Ambleside,
brings you back to Winandermere, thus completing,
though on the eastern side in a somewhat irregular
manner, the representative figure of the wheel.”
_* Mr. Wordsworth has understated the distance—read eight or
nine,
1637,}
It is a bold thing to attempt to improve one of Mr.
Wordsworth's descriptions ; but this one would be more
true if the wheel had been represented as broken, and
the rim gone on the eastern side. The great valley,
which, with one pass of comparatively small elevation,
viz., Dunmail Raise, extends from Keswick to Amble-
sidc, divides the lake district into two separate regions,
as completely as the Great Glen does the Highlands of
Scotland: and the part which lies to the east is of
entirely different structure, the mountain chains, and
consequently the valleys, being parallel instead of di-
vergent. Alone the eastern side of the valley, from
Rydal as far north as Keswick, a high chain of moun-
tains extends, rising first to the high point of Fairfield,
——there broken through by the deep cleft of Grisedale,
—rising again still higher to the summit of Helvellyn,
and prolonged in a continuous undulating ridge called
Wanthwaite Fell, which sinks into the wide valley
extending eastwards from Keswick towards Penrith.
The western side of this important range is, compara-
tively speaking, smooth and tame; the eastern abonnds_
in wild and beautiful scenery, except towards the north-
ern end. Parallel to this, and divided from .it by Pat-
terdale and T'routbeck, runs a continuous chain of hills
from Place Fell, including the summits of High Street
and Huill-bell Cor Ill-bell) to the side of Windermere ;
and a third, separated from the second by Martindale
and Kentmere, runs from Swarth Fell, on Ulswater, to
Potter Fell, near Kendal, forming the western side of
Mardale and Long Sleddale. To the east of Hawes-
water and Long Sleddale, the mountains sink gradually
into a tract of high moorland called Shap Fells, con-
necting the Cimbrian group with that chain of hills
which, extending from the borders of Scotland to the
banks of the Trent, has been called the British Apcn-
nines, the Pennine Chain, and the Backbone of Eng-
land. The group of Skiddaw, Saddleback, and the
lower hills to the north of them, are entirely detached,
both from this second division; and from Mr. Words-
worth’s wheel.
The divergent structure, which belongs to much
the largest portion of the Cumbrian ‘e¢roup, leads to
results which are best described in the words of the
book from which we have already quoted at some
leneth. ‘* From the circumference to the centre, that
is, from the sea, or plain conntry, to the mountain
stations specified, there is, in the several ridges that
enclose these vales, and divide them from each other,
—JI mean, in the forms and surfaces, first of the swell-
ing grounds, next of the hills and rocks, and lastly of
the mountains—an ascent of almost regular gradation,
from elegance and richness, to their highest point of
erandeur and sublimity. It follows therefore from
this, first, that these rocks, hills, and mountains must
present themselves to view in stages rising above each
other, the mountains clustering together towards the
central point ; and, next, that an observer familiar with
the several vales, must, from their various position in
rclation to the sun, have had before his eyes every pos-
sible embellishment of beauty, dignity, and splendour,
which light and shadow can bestow upon objects so
diversified. For example, in the vale of Winander-
mere, if the spectator looks for gentle and lovely scenes,
his eye is turned towards the south ;—if for the grand,
towards the north; in the vale of Keswick, which (as
hath been said) lies almost due north of this, it is
directly the reverse. Efcnce, when the sun is setting
in summer, far to the north-west, it is seen by the spcc-
tator, from the shores or breast of Winandermere, rest-
ing among the summits of the loftiest monntains, some
of which will perhaps be half or wholly hidden by clouds,
or by the blaze of light which the orb diffuses around
it: and the surface of the lake will reflect before the
eye correspondent coiours through every variety of
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
243
beauty, and through all degrees of splendour. In the
vale of Keswick, at the same period, the sun sets over
the humbler regions of the landscape, and showers
down upon them the radiance which at once veils and
elorifies,—sending forth, meanwhile, broad streams of
rosy, crimson, purple, or golden light, towards the
grand mountains in the south and south-east, which
thus illuminated, with all their projections and cavities,
and with an intermixture of solemn shadows, are seen
distinctly through a cool and clear atmosphere. Of
course, there is as marked a difference between the
noontide appearance of these two opposite vales. The
bedimming haze that overspreads the south, and the
clear atmosphcre and determined shadows of the clouds
in the north, at the same time of the day, are each seen
in these several vales with a constrast as striking. ‘The
reader will easily conceive in what degree the inter-
mediate vales partake of a kindred variety. I do not
indecd know any tract of country, in which, within so
narrow a compass, may be ‘found an equal variety in
the influences of light and shadow upon the sublime
or beantiful features of landscape; and it is owing to
the combined circumstances to which I have directed
the reader’s attention. From a point between Great
Gavel and Scawfell, a shepherd would not require more
than an hour to descend into any one of eight of the
principal vales by which he would be surrounded ; and
all the others lie (with the exception of Hawes-water)at
but a small distance. Yet, though clustered together,
every valley has its distinct and separate character; in
some instances as if they had been formed in studied
contrast to each other, and in others with the united
pleasing differences and resemblances of a sisterly rival-
ship.” :
The Cumbrian mountains belong almost entirely to the
slate formation. Granite occurs in the bed of the Caldew
River, and on the stream which runs through the deep
ravine between Skiddaw and Saddleback; also between
| Wastdale and Eskdale, in a larger extent. Sienite, por-
phyry, and veins of trap are of occasional occurrence, but
not to such a degree as to affect the external character of
the country, in reference to which alone we have to con-
sider its geology. ‘The slate formation is divided into
three groups, which differ materially in appearance.
These lie in order from north to south: the lowest, in
reological succession, comprehends Saddleback, Skid-
daw, and their dependent hills; Grisedale Pike, Grass-
moor, and the group of hills between Derwent-water
and Crummock, as also the southern side of the Vale of
Newlands; and the hills about Lowes-water, and the
lower part of Ennerdale, passing to the sea by Dent
Hill, near Egremont. These rocks are soft and shivery,
and forin smooth slopes well covered with turf—quali-
ties to which the easy flowing outlines of Skiddaw and
the hills of Newlands owe their formation. ‘The middle
division is much harder, and very different in its ap-
pearance: it comprehends Helvellyn, Lanedale, Bor-
rowdale, Bowfell, Scawfell, the Pillar, and the greater
part of the Coniston group, and forms by far the
grandest scenery in the country. The mountains of
this group are distinguished at once from those of
the earlier one by their boldness of outline and rug-
wedness of surface; and wherever lofty and abrupt
rocks, such as Raven Crag in Thirlmere, Castle Crag
in Borrowdale, or Eagle Crag in Stonethwaite, occur,
we may set them down as belonging to this series, in
which roofing slate is extensively quarried, in Lang-
dale, Grasmere, &c. The upper division runs from the
head of Windermere, near the head of Coniston, to
Broughton, at the mouth of the Duddon: a line drawn
on Ottley’s map, from Broughton Mills to the spot
marked Yewdale Ch:, follows the boundary pretty
closely. Between these two series the difference is less
strongly marked than between the first ee but
244
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still the upper is inferior in hardness, and, consequently,
in grandeur and wildness of character, to the second
division. Its mountains also are much inferior in
elevation.
On reaching Kendal, the stranger's first object
probably will be to visit Windermere. Indeed the
first view of that lake is of such uncommon loveliness,
and forms so admirable an introduction to the fairy
land which hes before him, that it is worth almost any
sacrifice to enjoy it. ‘There is, however, another route,
of much beanty and grandeur, very little visited, which
it better suits our plan to follow ;—we mean that 1o-
wards Penrith, or Ulswater, by ‘Long Sleddale and
Mardale. Following the road from Kendal to Shap
for about four miles, the traveller will see, far under
him, a deep narrow valley, turning somewhat westward
into the mountains: this is Lone Sleddale, into which
a cross-road down a steep hill will conduct him. If
not one of the grandest character, it has the advantage
at least of being thoroughly free from the intrusion of
art. There is net a new house, or a new road, or a
new bridge, to mar its harmony: and while passing
along the narrow lanes, enclosed by thickly-lichened
walls, tufted with wild flowers and crested by hedges,
as the eye rests on the brilliant green of the meadows,
the sparkling purity of the stream, or the autumnal
tints of the copses, we heartily rejoice in our emancipa-
tion from the turnpike-road, and acknowledge this to
be a genuine and lovely specimen of pastoral scenery.
The upper portion of the dale is bleak and sterile, and
the ascent to the summit of the pass which divides it
from Mardale is wearisome; but, on attaining the
summit, the bird’s-eye view of the deep green secluded
glen beneath, and the abruptness and ruggedness of
the descent, will strike one who is unaccustomed to
mountain-passes with surprise and delight. There is
a small public-house, the White Bull, where rough but
clean accommodation may be had, at Mardale Green,
about a mile above the head of Hawes-water. This
lake is three miles lone,—‘‘a sort of lesser Ulswater,”
Mr. Wordsworth says, ‘‘ with this advantage, that it
remains undefiled by the intrusion of bad taste;” and,
from the remoteness of the situation, it is lone likely
to remain so. The eastern bank is richly clothed by
natural wood, of no great size or beauty, but richly
feathering the hill-side and shore of the lake.
From Hawes-water there is a carriage-road, already
mentioned, to Lowther, Penrith, or Pooley Bridge. ‘Fo
the walker, especially if limited in time, it will answer
better to follow the western side of the lake for a mile
or more, till his curiosity is satisfied; and then to strike
across the monntains, leaving Kidsay Pike to the south,
skirt round the heads of the two deep branches of Mat-
terdale, and descend into Patterdale not far from the
church and inn. A steep peat-track down the hill-side
will conduct him to the bridge by which he must cross
the river. Or, if he has already seen Hawes-water, he
may, on quitting Mardale Green, take the valley be-
tween Kidsay Pike and High Street, ascend the latter,
and descend into Patterdale by the wild mountain lake
or tarn, called Hayswaiter, of note totheangler. Either
route abounds in interest; and if his whole day’s journey
be from Mardale to Patterdale, he may spend two or
three hours to advantage in rambling among the sum-
mits of these mountains. The western branch of Mar-
dale, which runs up between High Street and Harter
Fell, and the head of Kentmore, enclosed by these two
mountains, and Hill-bell on the west, are wild and
grand, and may be seen from High Street to much
advantage. ‘hat mountain is so named from a green
track, which passes nearly over its summit, 2700 feet
above the sea, and is believed to indicate the site of ay
1837.]
old Roman road from Kendal to Penrith. It is stated
that pack-horses used to travel this way within the
memory of man.
Of Patterdale itself, including in that term the whole
valley to the foot of Ulswater, it is difficult to say too
much in praise. It is best seen, on the whole, in going
from Pooley Bridge upwards. The fault commonly
objected against Ulswater is, that the lower part is
tame and spiritless; and it may so strike the eye in
proceeding downwards from Patterdale, when we are
turning our backs upon the loftier hills, and the eye
travels onward towards a more and more Jevel country.
But in going upwards all this is reversed. The clear
strong stream of the Eamont, the soft wooded scenery,
and the bright expanse of the lake, are abundantly
sufficient to delight the mind when not untuned for
them by a higher excitement.. As we proceed south-
ward, the eastern bank becomes bolder; the long ridge
of Helvellyn on the west unfolds its shattered crag’s
and deep ravines: and on reaching Gowbarrow Park
We enter on a woodland region of four or five miles’
leneth, which may compete with tne noblest of the
Highland Lakes, and is unequalled, in the writer's
opinion, in South Britain. ‘The bare, bold front of
Place Fell is finely contrasted with the natural woods
which still ornament the oppcsite bank, sometimes
skirting clear gravelly bays, where the hills recede, and
leave space for open glades; sometimes, as at Sty-
barrow Crag, clothing a steep rock, which sinks ab-
ruptly into the still, black waters of the lake. The
ground is richly carpeted with moss and fern, varied by
starting rocks and graceful saplings ; and, though tlie
individual trees are of small size, nowhere in Eneland
can the unstudied and unfailing elewance of the natural
forest be seen in more perfection. Mr. Wordsworth
says, that artists “‘ speak of the trees on the banks of
Ulswater, and especially along the bays of Stybarrow
Crags, as having a peculiar character of picturesque
intricacy in their stems and branches, which their rocky
stations, and the mountain winds have combined to give
them.’ A constant variety of landscape is presented by
the elens descending from Helvellyn, whose streams are
crossed by the road as they hurry into tlie lake. The inn
at Patterdale affords wood quarters. A week is not too
much to devote to a leisurely examination of this neivh-
bourhood, which is rich, perhaps above all other parts
of the lakes, in materials for the sketcher. Hours may
be spent idling in Gowbarrow Park, where there is a
waterfall called Airy-force, not large, but of great
beauty, on the rapid stream of Matterdale. Every
valley which comes down from Helvellyn—Glencoin,
Glenridding, Grisedale, Deepdale, all partaking of the
same character, yet each possessing a distinct character
of its own—deserves a visit. Glenridding and Grise-
dale are the principal ; they lead directly to the wildest
solitudes of the monntain, which contrast powerfully
with the luxuriant, cheerful maenificence of their lower
remions. Nor should the rugged path be left unvisited
which leads past Blowick, along the birch-sprinkled
side of Placefell to Martindale. Hence may be seen,
to the best advantage, Helvellyn, which on this side
offers, by the intricate outline of its many points and
steep descending ridges, the strongest contrast to the
smooth, round-shouldered character of its western flank.
| The village of Hartshope, Mr. Wordsworth tells us,
is remarkable for its picturesque specimens of ancient
cottage architecture. Near it is a small lake, called
Brothers, o1 Broader-water, which occupies the centre
of the valley. Beyond it, on the western side, ‘a
stream issues from a cove richly decorated with native
wood. This spot is seldom or never explored by tra-
vellers; but from these sylvan and rocky recesses,
whoever looks back on the eleaming surface of Bro-
thers-water, or forward to the precipitous sides and
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
formed from Patterdale.
2495
lofty ridges of Dove Crag, &c., will be equally pleased
with the beauty, the grandeur, and the wildness of
the scenery.”* The upper part of Patterdale, and the
ascent of Kirkstone—
“ Where, save the rugged road we find
No appanage of human kind,
No hint of man, if stone or rock
Seem not his handywork to mock,
By something cognizably shaped ;
Mockery—or model roughly hewn,
And left, as if by earthquake strewn,
Or from the flood escaped—” +
are striking from the simplicity and magnitude of their
features, yet inferior to several of the mountain passes.
Kirkstone is named after a huge fragment of rock
shaped like the gable-end of a church. The descent
upon Ambleside traverses a bare hill-side, devoid of
interest; but it commands a noble distant view over
Windermere and the lowland country beyond it, with
the mountains of Coniston and Langdale.
The ascent of Helvellyn may be conveniently per-
A lady, with a little manage-
ment, taking the track up Glenridding to the lead-
mines, may ride within a quarter or half a mile of the
summit; immediately under which, at a depth of 650
feet, lies Red Tarn {, enclosed within the sweep of
two sharp ridges, called Striding Edge, and Swirrel
Edge, which project from the mountain.’ The former
is, In some parts, as sharp as the roof of a house. One
of the paths from Patterdale leads alone it; but it re-
quires some nerve and steadiness to traverse this giddy
height, the top of which, in many places, is said scarcely
to afford room to plant the foot. Swirrel Edge, the
northern of the two, is crowned by the conical hill
called Catchedicam. It was here that the remarkable
instance of brute fidelity, which has been recorded
beth by Wordsworth and Scott, was shown in a doe,
which during three months watched beside the corpse
of his master, who had fallen and perished on a snowy
Spring day, in attempting to cross from Patterdale to
Wythburn.
* How nourished there for such long time,
He knows, who gave that love sublime,
And gave that strength of feeling, great
Above all human estimate.” §
The view from the summit of Helvellyn, is, with the
exception of that from Scawfell, the finest panoramic
mountain view in the country.
Besides the carriage-roads already mentioned, there
are three tracks, more or less frequented, by which the
traveller may quit Patterdale. One is a rough moun-
tain road, practicable for a car, which turns hard by
the gate of Gowbarrow Park up Matterdale, and after
traversing a dreary tract of moor, descends at Wan-
thwaite into the vale of St. John. From the inn of Pat-
terdale to Keswick, is fifteen or sixteen miles. The
first view of Ulswater, on descending Matterdale, is
one of the most striking things in the country. The
second, whichis the direct way from Patterdale to Kes-
wick, lies up Glenridding, and will not take more than
three and a half or four hours; it crosses the ridge of
* Wordsworth's ‘ Description,’ &c.
+ Wordsworth’s ‘Ode to the Pass of Kirkstone.’
_ A cove, a huge recess,
That keeps, till June, December’s snow ;
A lofty precipice in front,
A silent tarn below! . . . .
There sometimes doth a leaping fish.
Send through the tarn a lonely cheer ;
The crags repeat the raven’s croak,
In symphony austere.
Thither the Rainbow comes—the Cloud—
And mists, that spread the flying shroud ;
And sunbeams, and the sounding blast,
That, if it could, would hurry past ;
But that enormous barrier binds it fast.’—
§ Ibid. Woroswortn's ‘ Fidelity,
246
Helvellyn, at no great distance from the summit, which
may readily be included in the walk, by allowing about
an hour more time. ‘The third route, which is just
practicable on horseback, runs up Grisedale, and pass-
ing Grisedale ‘Tarn, a lonely sheet of water, surrounded
by three or four vast hills, of smooth and sweeping out-
line, descends abruptly into the sweet vale of Grasmere.
Throughout the country a finer upland e@len than Grise-
dale is hardly to be found. ‘The distance from the inn
at Patterdale to that at Grasmere, does not exceed eight
or nine miles. _
. Ambleside is perhaps on the whole the best head-
quarters for the lakes. It contains as many conve-
niences as Keswick; and if the situation of the town
itself be somewhat inferior in beauty, this is fully com-
pensated by its position at the convergence of several
valleys, each of which has its own distinct character.
At Keswick, on the contrary, you must go to some
distance before you can escape from the precincts of
the vast basin in which it stands; in which, however
the combinations may vary, the principal objects always
remain the same. There is an excellent inn at JLow-
Wood, a mile and a half from Ambleside, close to the
lake; it is pleasanter in some respects than Ambleside,
but not so central and convenient. Bowness lies too
far from the higher mountains to be chosen for an
abiding-place.
The valleys which converge to Ambleside, are those
of Windermere and Rydal, which are in fact one, being
traversed by the same river, yet so completely separated
by the approximation of the mountains between Am-
bleside and Rydal, and so different 1n character, as not
to possess a single view or feature common to both; Great
and Little Langdale; and that smaller glen up which the
road to Kirkstone runs, aud in which, less than a mile
from Ambleside, is situated the elegant waterfall called
Stockgill Force. The parallel valley of Troutbeck,
which opens to Windermere, a little below Low-wood,
should not he unvisited. It contains some good ex-
amples of that peculiar and picturesque style of cottage
architecture, on which Mr. Wordsworth, in his ‘ De-
seription, &c., * has dwelt so much. ‘The lower part
of Windermere is comparatively tame; and those who |
are at all confined for time, need hardly extend their
excursion below Bowness, which is a comfortable and
convenient halting-place, with a ferry across the lake.
The upper portion of Windermere, about six miles
in leneth, should be seen hoth by land and water.
‘Chere is a road on both sides,—the Low-wood side,
however, is the finer of the two: ‘* the whole distance
from Bowness is rich in diversity of pleasing or grand
scenery; there is scarcely a field on the road-side which,
if entered, would not give to the landscape some addi-
tional charmt.” If possible, a fine summer evening:
should be chosen for an excursion on the lake between
Bowness and Ambleside. The splendid mountain-
chain from Coniston Old Man to Scawfell and the
Langdale Pikes is seen to more advantage from the
water than from the land, and best of all when the sun,
setting behind them, pours a flood of golden light over
their peaks.
Another delightful excursion, which may be made in
one day from Ambleside, on horseback, or in a car, is
the circuit of Great and Little Langdale. ‘The former
is inferior to none of the main valleys, except, perhaps,
Borrowdale. Its lower portion is broad, undulating,
richly wooded, and ornamented by two small but lovely
lakes, called, the one Loughrigg Tarn, the other
Elter Water. ‘The Langdale Pikes tower in one con-
tinuous face towards the upper end of the valley; and,
for their height, which is only 2400 feet, form the
* The passage to which especially we refer has been already
quoted in the ‘Penny Magazine,’ No. 22, vol. v.
T Wordsworth’s ‘Scenery of Lakes,’ p. 131.
MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF
(June 30,~
erandest mountain group in the country. They will
be recognised at once, wherever visible, by their very
peculiar and picturesque forms. Under the precipitous
brow of the more eastern peak, which is called Harrison
Stickle, lies Stickle Tarn, the stream from which forms,
in its headlong course, a waterfall, called Dungeon
Gill*, in a deep cavity, remarkable for being crossed
by a sort of natural bridge of fallen rock. Higher up,
the stranger cannot fail to be struck with the deep cup-
like termination of the valley, enclosed by lofty, steep
unbroken rocks. In this direction egress seems to be
barred; but a rough and precipitous mountain-path
leads this way into Borrowdale, over the magnificent
pass called the Stake. The unpractised eye will seek
In vain to trace the path as it winds in short abrupt
turnings, a few feet at a time, among the rocks of the
upper part of the ascent.
Our way however lies to the south, where a rugged
track is faintly seen climbing towards a depression, or
slack, as it 1s provincially called, in the chain of hills
which separates the two Langdales. Within them lies
a spot familiar, at least in imagination, to all readers of
Wordsworth,—for it is that in which he has placed the
abode of his Solitary. It shonld be described in his
own words :— :
“ A little lowly Vale:
A lowly Vale, and yet uplifted high
Among the mountains ; even as if the spot
Had been, from eldest time, by wish of theirs
So placed,—to be shut out from all the world!
Urnlike it was in shape, deep as an urn ;
With rocks encompassed, save that to the south
Was one small opening, where a heath-clad ridge
Supphed a boundary less abrupt and close ;
A. quiet treeless nook, with two green fields,
A liquid pool that glittered in the sun,
And one bare dwelling; one abode, no more!
It seemed the home of poverty and toil,
Though not of want: the little fields, made green
By husbandry of many thrifty years,
Paid cheerful tribute to the moorland house.
—There crows the cock, single in his domain:
The small birds find in spring no thicket there
T’o shroud them; only from the neighbouring vales
The cuckoo, straggling up to the hill-tops,
Shouteth faint tidings of some gladder place.”
To many visiters the vale will appear less fair than
in the verses of the poet: and in truth there needs the
summer sun, and the ‘*‘ concave of a blue and cloudless
sky,” to give light and cheerfulness to a scene eminently
dependent on the influences reflected from the heavens.
The best view is from the south, where the Langdale
Pikes are seen to rise high above the near inferior hills
which form the urn; and best of all, in the season when
the heather-blossom has robed these in purple. The
‘liquid pool” is called Blea ‘’arn. ‘The road passes
along its eastern side, and then, descending into Little
Langdale, turns due east to Ambleside. Rather more
than a mile from the tarn, a road turns to the west,
and immediately begins the steep ascent of Wrynose.
Ixither at or near the point of divergence, a third road
leads south through Tilberthwaite and Yewdale to
Coniston, a low pass, but richly wooded, and overhung
by the grand crags of Wetherlam and the ‘Tilberthwaite
Fells. This road may be traversed by cars; yet beau-
tiful as it is, it is little known. In Little Langdale,
two waterfalls, Colwith Force and Skelwith Force, are
worth notice, and lie within short distance of the road.
The former is of considerable height, the latter low:
both, except in very dry weather, possess a considerable
volume of water.
In this short circuit of eighteen miles almost every
variety of mountain scenery, except that which can only
be seen by traversing their summits, is eujoyed. Per-
haps it is best seen in reverse order, beginning with
Little Langdale. It may be varied by following the
* See Wordsworth’s ‘ Idle Shepherd Boys.’
1837.
road which leads from Rydal or Grasmere over High-
close, descending into Langdale, near the chapel. The
views from Highclose are of great beauty; and that
from Loughrigy Fell—a higher part of the same ridge
—is celebrated for the number of lakes and mountains
which it includes, in consequence of the centrality of
the position, although the elevation of the hill is incon-
siderable.
The lakes of Grasmere and Rydal are both situated
on the same stream—the Rothay. They are small:
Rydal, the smaller of the two, does not exceed a mile
in length; its banks are wooded, and it is gemmed
by some beautiful wooded islets. Grasmere is larger,
and contains one bare green island. About a mile
from Ambleside stands Rydal Hall, the seat of the
ancient family of Fleming; its grounds contain two
pretty waterfalls, and some fine old timber, the want
of which is greatly felt in most parts of the lakes.
Around the cottages, indeed, the sycamore may be often
seen of great size and venerable aspect, having been
planted and spared for shelter; not to mention that
it offers a less temptation to the axe than many trees,
from the inferior value of its wood. An aged oak,
which would repay the cost of felling, is rarely to be
seen. Between Rydal and Grasmere the high road
formerly ran winding among’, and over, a succession of
knolls; and beine half hidden in its serpentine course,
afforded a succession of exquisite views, without deform-
ing this lovely valley. But the steepness of the hills
was ill suited to the convenience of increasing traffic,
and abont ten years avo a new road was made, which
runs close alone the lower end of Grasmere, and is
fenced from it by a long, straight, odious stone wall,
which offends the eye, and cuts the sweetest part of the
landscape in two with its rectilinear deformity. The
best view of these lakes is obtained from a cross-road
which, turning off near the foot of Rydal-water, ascends
gradually over High-close towards Langdale, and is
continued in another direction to the village of Gras-
mere, On the western side of the lake; in which, on a
calin day, the surrounding mountains may be seen so
perfectly reflected, that it is hardly possible to distin-
cuish where earth ends and water begins. ‘These re-
flections throughout the Lakes are of unusual brilliancy
and distinctness; a circumstance due, probably, to the
remarkable purity and transparency of the water; and
nowhere, except perhaps in Derwent-water, can they be
better seen than here.
The village of Grasmere is beautifully situated, a
quarter of a mile from the high road, at the northern
end of the lake. It contains two comfortable houses of
entertainment; the Swan, on the high road, and the
Red Lion, near the church. The situation of the latter
is to be preferred. Beyond the Swan the road begins
to ascend the pass of Dunmail Raise, between Helin-
Crae* on the west and Fairfield on the east. At the
highest point, which is 720 feet above the sea, it passes
a low cairn, or pile of stones, which is said to have been
raised in the year 945 by the Saxon Edmund, after the
defeat, and death, on this spot, of Dunmail, the British
king of Cumbria, and the consequent destruction of that
kingdom. Beside it, along the ridge of the hill, runs
the boundary line of Cumberland and Westmoreland.
The pass is still called after the slain king’s name.
From the plain of Grasmere another valley runs far
* The shivered rocks on the summit of this mountain may be
transmuted, by an active fancy, into a variety of shapes. From
one point may be seen a lion, couchant, with a lamb peacefully
regarding the end of his nose: from another, the verisimilitude
of au old woman, {fence Wordsworth, in one of his ‘Poems on
the Naming of Places,’ entitled ‘ Joanna,’ says, in commemorating
the wonderful laugh which startled all the mountains,
‘That ancient Woman, seated on Helm Crag,
Was ready with her cavern.”
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
| Walna Scar, descends into Seathwaite.
247
into the northern hills, on the western side of Heltm-
crag. It is called Easdale; the lower part is broken
by rocky knolls, and rendered cheerful by the bright
green of meadow-land, the upper is barren and lonely.
Near its mouth a stream, flowing from Easdale Tarn,
precipitates itself down the rough hill side, and is called,
from the whiteness of the broken water, Sour Milk Gill.
Up this seldom-visited glen the foot-traveller may pursne
his way from Grasmere to Keswick, ascending by a
Steep and laborious climb to a narrow level tract of
moor; after crossing which he will descend into the
Stonethwaite branch of Borrowdale—nor will he re-
gret, though the way be longer and far more laborious,
having exchanged the high road for the freedom of the
mountain-side.
From Ambleside to Coniston, several roads may be
pursued ; the usual one unites with the road from Bow-
ness and Hawkshead, not far from the top of a long
and steep hill, which commands a noble view over the
lake and its surrounding mountains. At the foot of
this hill lies Coniston Water Head, where there is a
small but very comfortable inn, level with, and close to,
the water’s edge, and looking directly down the whole
expanse. The traveller will be fortunate who finds
himself here at the full of a summer’s moon, under
whose light the lake elitters, far to the south, like
Silver; while the brilliancy below and above gives a
more awful aspect to the dark mountains on the right
and behind. The best way, however, of approaching
Coniston is from the south, from Newby Bridge, or
after a visit to Furness Abbey. Coniston, (sometimes
calied Thurston) water, like Ulswater, is taken emi-
nently at a disadvantage if we approacli it from the
head, and in that case it will not be worth while to
eo more than two or three miles down its sides.
Ihe village and church lie about a mile from the
Water-head, at the foot of the Old Man, as the southern:
and highest point of these fells is called. A lofty
ridge sweeps round, in a semicircular form, to the
northern point, called Wetherlam, under which lies a
fine tarn, called Levers Water. The sides are deep,
and almost precipitous; and the enclosed valley might
almost be fancied the crater of an extinct volcano.
Copper-mining is here carried on, much to the injnry
of this magnificent scene, which it deforms by the in-
troduction of mean and unsightly objects. The heicht
of the Old Man is 2577 feet, and the ascent, especially
from the south, steep and difficult. The view from it
is inferior to no mountain view in the country, except-
ing those from Scawfell and Helvellyn; if, indeed, it
be inferior to the latter. A walk of half a mile from
the top, towards the north-west, will bring the visiter.
in sight of a deep-seated tarn, called Seathwaite Tarn,
which sends a tributary stream to the Duddon; and,
besides Levers Water, there are two other small tarns.
on the eastern sides. Goats Tarn, on the south-west,
drains into Coniston. ‘Those who can devote a day to.
the excursion will do well to follow the mountain range
to Wetherlam, descending into Tilberthwaite, and so
returning to Coniston. This lake is famous for the
delicate fish called char, a species of trout, which in-
habits the deep water, and is only taken at particular
times of the year. Large quantities are potted, and
sent to the south. ‘They do not attain a large size,
seldom, perhaps, exceeding a pound in weight. Co-
niston, Windermere, Wastwater, Buttermere, Crum-
mock, and Ulswater, are, I believe, the only lakes
which contain them. ‘The char of Coniston stand
highest, and those of Ulswater lowest, in repute.
A rough road leads round the sonthern shoulder of
Coniston Old Man, and climbing the high ridge called
This is the
route which Mr. Wordsworth recommends us the best
248
approach to his favourite stream, ths: Duddon. ‘At a
point (on the descent from the Scar) elevated enough
to show the various objects in the valley, and not so
high as to diminish their importance, the stranger will
instinctively halt. On the foreground, a little below the
most favourable station, a rude foot-bridge is thrown over
theebed.of the noisy brook foaming by the way-side. Rus-
set and cragey hills, of bold and varied outline, surround
the level valley, which is besprinkled with grey rocks,
plumed with birch-trees. A few homesteads are inter-
spersed, in some places peeping out from among the
rocks like hermitages, whose site has been chosen for
the benefit of sunshine as well as shelter; in other
instances, the dwelling-house, barn, and byre, compose
tovether a cruciform structure, which, with its embower-
ing trees, and the ivy, clothing part of the walls and
roof like a fleece, call to mind the remains of an ancient
abbey. ‘Time in most cases, and Nature everywhere,
have given a sanctity to the humble works of man,
that are scattered over this peaceful retirement. Hence
a harmony of tone and colour, a perfection and con-
summation of beauty, which would have been marred
had aim or purpose interfered with the course of con-
venience, utility, or necessity. The brook descends in
a rapid torrent, passing by the churchyard of Sea-
thwaite. The traveller is thus conducted at once into
midst of the wild and beautiful scenery which gave
occasion to the Sonnets, from the 14th to the 20th
inclusive. From the point where the Seathwaite brook
joins the Duddon is a view upwards, into the pass
through which the river makes its way into the plain
of Donnerdale. The perpendicular rock on the right
bears the ancient British name of The Pen; the one
opposite is called Walla-barrow Crag, a name that
occurs in several places to designate rocks of the same
character. The chaotic aspect of the scene is well
marked out by the expression of a stranger, who strolled
out while dinner was preparing; and, at his return,
being asked by his host ‘ Which way he had been wan-
dering?’ replied, ‘ As far as it is finished*.’ ”.
The upper part of the valley of the Duddon, a wild,
bare glen, is traversed by a mountain road, the diver@ence
of which, near Blea Tarn, has been mentioned in our
account of the Langdale excursion. 'This was formerly
the main road from Kendal to Whitehaven,—a fact
which those who now traverse it, and see the nature of
the ground over which it passes, will find it hard to
believe. Passing up Little Langdale, it begins the
ascent of Wrynose at the place which we have indicated,
and descends upon Cockley Beck, only to cross the
valley, and climb another mountain no less high and
rugged, called Hardknot, which separates Seathwaite
from Eskdale. The views from hoth these passes are
extremely grand. Wheel-carriages of course on such a
way were never dreamt of, and the only method of con-
veying goods from place to place was on the backs of
pack-horses, long trains of which were often to be seen
traversing these hills. Seventy or eighty years ago,
or perhaps less, many of these valleys were inaccessible
to wheel-carriages,—a condition the memory of which
Wordsworth has preserved (Excursion, book vii.) in
speaking of his mountain pastors change of abode.
The route of which we have been speaking, is certainly
one of those least frequented by tourists, for it is long
and laborious ; and neither in Donnerdale nor in Esk-
dale is the accommodation good enough to satisfy the
more luxurious class of travellers. Mr. Wordsworth’s
* Sonnets to the Duddon’ have rendered the name of
that river familiar; but few strangers know the scenery
from which they were drawn; and the aspect of the
upper part of the valley, at Cockley Beck, where it
* Notes to ‘River Duddon,’ Sonnet xvii.
MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT.
[JUNE 30, 1837.
is crossed by the mountain road of which we have
been speaking—is not such as, in this land of beauty,
calls for any unusual tribute of admiration. A tract
of desolate hills, nurses of the Esk and Duddon,
rise towards the north-west into the lofty range of
Scawfell and Bowfell. The head of Eskdale lies be-
tween these, the hiehest and the roughest mountains
In the country; and we might here fancy ourselves deep
in the recesses even of the wilder parts of the Scottish
Highlands. The precipices of Scawfell, and of the
higher point of that ereat mountain, called The Pikes,
tower darkly and awfully on the western side; and
even on the eastern, where Bowfell slopes down more
gently, the passage of the traveller will be slow and
cautious. No precipice, however, bars up the head of
the dale, which rises gradually up to the green ridge,
which marks the watershed between Eskdale and
Borrowdale: This height, itself a depression between
Great End and Bowfell, is called Ash Course *, in the
oulde-books. From it we look directly down the whole
of Borrowdale, and command a view of Derwent-water,
with its specks of islands, the whole closed by the ele-
gant pyramidal group of Skiddaw, which is hence seen
from head to foot, and to the greatest advantage. ‘This,
however, is a divergence from our course, which must
return towards the lower part of Eskdale. The out-
break of the river from this upland elen.to the lower
valley, some five or six miles from Ash Course, forms a
succession of falls and rapids for a considerable distance,
fringed with birch and mountain-ash, the first signs of
better soil and milder climate. ‘These, in their varied
combinations of rock and water, contain a mine of
studies for the artist or sketcher. ey al
After crossing Cockley Beck, the Kendal and White-
haven road begins to climb the side of Hardknot, and
descends on the opposite side, with equal rapidity, down
a still longer descent, into Eskdale. ‘ A Roman fort,
called by the country-people Hardknot Castle, is most
impressively situated half-way down the hill on the
right of the road that descends from Hardknot into
Eskdale. ‘The Druidical Circle is about half a nile to
the left of the road ascending Stoneside from the vale of
Duddon: the country-people call it Sunken Church+.”
Proceeding down this valley, we come, about two miles
from the foot of the hill, to a public-house at Bout; within
two miles of which, on the south side of the valley, is situ-
ated a very lovely waterfall, called-Birker Force, far up a
deep, narrow, and thickly-wooded ravine. The stream
is small, and the height of its shoot is not remarkable :
but in the picturesque elegance of its accompaniments,
this secluded cascade is inferior to none of the better-
known lions of the country. The hills from which it
issues, between Eskdale and Donnerdale, are low; but
Black Comb, which ends the range towards the sea,
rises nearly to 2000 feet. This mountain, though com-
paratively of no great elevation, commands (according
to Colonel Mudge, who pitched his tent here during a
trigonometrical survey) the most extensive prospect in
Britain. Ireland he saw from it more than once; but
not when the sun was above the horizon.
* We are half-inclined to venture a conjectural emendation,
and write this name Hsk-Hawse ; Hawse beiug, like s/ack, a com-
mon name for a depression in a chain of hills, forming a ready
communication between two valleys. Cumbrian pronunciation
might easily lead a stranger into such a blunder.
+ Note to Sonnet xvii. on the River Duddon.
(To be concluded in next Supplement.)
senna caps gtesaresae = bt)
*,* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of
59, Lincoln’s Inn Fields,
Useful Knowledge is at
LONDON: CHARLES KNIGHT & CO., 22, LUDGATE STREET...
Printed by WitL1am Crowes and Sons, Stamford Street,
THE PENNY MAGAZINE
OF THE
society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge.
30/ «J
PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY.
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Sen
[Monastery of Monreale, in Sicily. ]
Tuoucn the town of Monreale is nearly four miles from
Palermo, it is so connected with that capitai by lines
of houses and villas as to have almost the character
of a suburb. It stands on a noble elevation at the
southern extremity of the rich vale of Palermo. The
road leading to it runs in a straight line from the Cas-
Saro, or principal street of Palermo *, to the very foot
of the hills, over which it has been made to stride by a
noble causeway. ‘The situation, the views, are alinost
ulirivalled ; and the town itself, though it can hardly be
called handsome, has an impressive, picturesque, half-
oriental air about it, and contains a number -of very
remarkable edifices. ‘The Carthaginian, the Grecian,
the Roman, the Saracenic temples and villas that stood
on the spot had been swept away, and the place was
nearly deserted, when the Normans conquered the
island, and devoted themselves to its embellishment
with more ardour, and much more taste, than might
have been thought compatible with their warlike habits
and the comparatively recent date of their own bar-
barism. As early as the eleventh century, and nearly at
the time of the Norman conquest of England, Count
Ruggiero, the first Norman King of Sicily, began the
work of improvement, and laid the foundation of “several
towns and vast religious edifices; but it was in the
* See description of this city, ‘Penny Magazine,’ No, 286.
Vou, VE.
twelfth century, and under his descendant William the
Good, that Monreale was traced out, and its ancient
cathedral, as well as its famous Benedictine abbey, was
first built. The town, by the usual process in those
ages, grew up round the abbey, and as the establish-
ment increased in wealth and importance, the town
also increased. Like all the Norman buildings of the
period, the abbey is strictly and almost entirely charac-
terized by the Moorish or Saracenic style. The cause
of this was obvious: the Normans who invaded the
island were no architects, and were not likely to carry
builders of any kind with them; and in Sicily they
found abundance of skilful Saracenic artists, and
nothing’ but Saracenic models. ‘They could hardly
help being struck by the lightness and beauty of the
workmanship, and the admirable manner in which the
prevailing style of building adapted itself to a hot
climate; and the obvious circumstances of convenience
and facility of obtaining artists in that line would,
even independent of any taste, induce them to per-
petuate the architecture of the Moors.
The cloisters of Monreale are, from their magni-
ficence, extent, and taste, considered the master-ptece
of the Saraceno-Norman architects, and, though the in-
terval that divides them from the great master-piece of
the Moors in Spain is a long one, they are frequently
on,
950 THE PENNY MAGAZINE. [Suzy I,
called the “Alhambra of Sicily.” The successors of
that most energetic soldier of fortune, Count Ruggiero,
whose adventures are more brilliant even than those ‘of
our William the Conqueror, spared no pains and no
money in decorating this favourite monument of their
piety: the vast abbey-church, and nearly every part of
the monastery are most elaborately finished. The
twisted columns which support the arcades of the clois-
ters are covered nearly all over with mosaie; and though
not large in the diameter of their shafts these columns are
considerable in their number; for, taking in the whole
range of the cloisters (of which but a section is shown
in our engraving) there are 120 columns, and every
one of these is exquisitely finished. Some of their
capitals are very curious, being composed of the heads
of animals, cut with @reat spirit. In each division of
the cloisters there is a richly ornamented fountain,
and as all these are constantly supplied with clear,
sparkling, cool water, the effect during the summer
heats is delicious. From the shaded porticoes, and the
cool open galleries above them, the eyes of the monks
rest upon their gardens and groves, abounding in
odoriferous shrubs and plants, all kept fresh and doubly
fragrant by water gushing forth on all sides, and leaping
in inarble basins. The wealth and power are departed ;
the glory of the house is gone; but as a delicious place
of residence, the abbey of Monreale remains unrivalled
in the south, and was never surpassed even by the abbey
of Batalha, in Portugal, of which Mr. Beckford gives
such an eloquent description.
After the cloisters, the most striking feature in this
monastery is, perhaps, the vast and truly noble stair-case,
at the head of which there stand (or at least there stood
a few years ago) two large and splendid paintings, one
being by Velasqnez, and He other by Pietro Novelli, a
native of the town, and commonly called from it the
‘“* Monrealese,’ or, for greater euphony, ‘* Morealese.”
His works abound in other parts of the edifice, which
also contains many beautiful pieces of sculpture by
Gagini, another native artist. ‘he adjoining cathedral
church is in the same Saracenic style, but heavier and
somewhat less symmetric than the Benedictine honse.
The general effect is, however, imposing, and _ this
cluster of edifices is honourable to the taste and mag-
nificence of the twelfth century. ‘The interior of the
cathedral is a complete crust of rich mosaic work.
Some of the tombs have a high historical interest:
here were interred, William the Good, its founder,
William the Bad, and many princes of the Norman
and Suabian lines, some of whom gave a noble en-
couragement to the then infant literature of Italy. In
the year 1811 the cathedral was greatly damaged by
a fire, and the government has not since shown any
zeal in restoring this national monument. The autho-
rities have removed a few of the more precious relics to
Palermo, and thus, indeed, seem to have resigned
themselves to the idea of the gradual decay and falling
to pieces of the venerable edifice.
In its scenery and accessories the whole neiehbour-
hood of Monreale is magic ground. About three miles
beyond the abbey is the “magnificent monastery of San
Martino, situated in-a wild and solitary dell, among
rocks and mountains. Here also are fine ealleries and
fountaims, pictures and statues. Amone many cu-
riosities of a less questionable nature the monks pre-
tend to show the identical cup from which Socrates
drank his poison. ‘The library of San Martino attracted
the attention of Emrope last century by being the scene
where the literary forgeries of the Abbate or Abbé Vella
were discovered and brought to light. ‘This ingenious
Sicilian, or this ‘‘learned swindler,’ as he has been
called, made himself master of various Arabic dialects
by several years’ study and travelling in the East; and
on his return to Sicily he gave out that he had recovered |
the lost books of Livy's ‘Roman History,’ in an Arabian
manuscript, taken from the cornice of the mosque of
St. Sophia, at Constantinople. Before the lively sen-
sation created throughout civilized Europe by the report
of this great historical discovery had time to cool, Vella
pretended to find, in this very library of San: Martino,
a perfect Arabic manuscript, treating of the whole
history of Sicily during the Saracen dominion. Arabic
scholars were scarce, and money was not: ~The Abbé
and his project became amazingly popular; he received
large sums, and went to work with such vigonr that he
had soon no fewer than six volumes of translations in
the press. For some time nothing else was talked of
| by the savans of east, west, north, and south, who fully
expected that, pursning his fortnnate career, the Abbé
would recover in similar guise the missing portions of
Tacitus and Diodorus Siculus, the Register of Angus-
tus, the Comedies of Menander, and in short every “lost
Pleiad” of Grecian and Roman literature. At leneth
many of the literati even braved Scylla and Charybdis,
and went to Sicily for a sight of the inestimable mann-
scripts. We presuine they were, for the most part, not
very deep in Arabic; but at last, and in an evil moment
for the Abbé, Doctor Hager, a German doctissimus et
erudilissimus—a wight most profound in oriental lan-
guages and literature,—pounced npon the manuscripts,
and after some examination of the matter and manner,
the style, and the dates, pronounced and proved the
whole to be a gross forgery. ‘The bubble burst at
once; the books were stopped on the eve of publication,
and thus perished one of the most snecessful attempts
at literary imposition ever practised on the credulity of
the learned.
SPORTING IN GERMANY.
Tue diversity of soil of the respective sides of the river
Elbe, which takes its rise in the mountains of Bohemia,
and reaches the sea at Hamburgh, is one of the most
remarkable of the natural phenomena of Germany,
Sand predominates over the whole extent of country on
the eastern side, while on the western, as indeed in all
southern Germany, clay forms the chief ingredient in
the soil: im consequence, the district on the east bank
of the river is much less fertile than that on the west,
and its inhabitants are less refined. ‘The other usual
concomitauts of a sandy soil are also to be observed,
the country being quite level, withont mountains, aud
filled with morasses, which-are not to be inet- with on.
the other side of the Elbe, except in the more northern
parts. ‘he wood also in this district is of a less valuable
kind; forests, consisting principally of pine-trees, ex-
tensive moors, and barren heaths, lie alone the eastern
bank of the Eibe; on the western, rich meadows and
cultivated fields delight the eye. On either side of the
river game is plentiful, the description varying with
the nature of the country. As might be expected,
waterfowl abound in the wild heaths and uncultivated
morasses of the one side, and partridges and hares in
the rich and fertile lands of the other. While the stag,
the fallow-deer, the fox, the hare, and land-fow] are
rarely to be found on the eastern bauk, the wild boar is
undisputed master of the woods, and waterfowl of all
descriptions, from the majestic wild swan to the little
strand snipe, cover the face of the streams and the
boe's.
The chief amusement of the P Prussian and Pomera-
nian sportsman of this district consists in wild duck
and snipe shooting, which is here extremely exciting
from its great vanety. Ona fine autumn moruing the
sportsman arises a few hours before break of day, “with
just sufficient light for his purpose, and making his way
stealthily to a flat covered with water, from whence at
a distance lis attention is aroused by the cries and
1837]
flapping of the water by the wines of ducks of every
possible variety, he is invariably certain of securing a
brace of a particular species. The description of duck
alluded to keeps close to the edge of the water about
day-break, and dips continually int6 the water in search
of food, whilst his companions are saifne peacefully in
the centre of the lake. The experienced sportsman,
well aware of this fact, never shoots at the crowd of
birds which take wing on his approach to the shore;
but patiently awaits the appearance of those which, on
his disturbing the assembly, were underneath the water,
and easily brings down two of the last flight, as they
successively come within the range of his double-bar-
relled fowling-piece. Having no chance of more birds
from the water, the sportsman now repairs to the
uearest clump of trees, from whence he not unfre-
quently shoots a swan, a crane, a heron, or a great
water snipe; but may always secure three or four more
ducks. ‘The sun is now fairly risen, and the sports-
man, after having taken his breakfast, consisting eene-
rally of roasted @ame, bread, and brandy, makes the
best of his way to the nearest moor in search of snipes.
During this part of his day’s sport, he is seldom con-
tent unless he procures from twenty to thirty brace of
snipes, and not unusually a bittern or a fox. ‘The
sportsman having dined, if the day and his strength
permit, makes his way to the shores of the Baltic or
Fiast-sea, where he can safely rely on meeting with a
few great strand-snipes, and not unlikely disturb a hare
sleeping among the sedge. Partridges are scarce here ;
instead of which is frequently found the plover, a bird
about the size of a common pigeon, and in flocks of
considerable number; it is esteemed good eating. It
is a bird of curious habits, extremely shy, and only to
be approached by exciting its curiosity; as by coun-
terfeiting a stawger, whistling or singing loudly, and
at the same time fastening a white handkerchief to the
muzzle of the wun, upon which the bird hovers sufh-
ciently near the object of attraction to be within shot:
this bird is in lieh repute amongst sportsmen, and to
sive an idea of the numbers which are to be met with,
it will be sufficient to state that a keeper generally
shoots from 1000 to 2000 per annum.
Lhe sporting of south-western Germany is of an en-
tirely different description, being altogether confined to
hares and partridges; water-fowls are seldom or ever
to be met with. ‘The shooting season there, as with
pariridges in Englaud, commences in September. Par-
ties of three or four, each sportsman with a single dog,
about the middle of the day, enter a wood: the dogs
speedily raise a covey of birds; the chief object of the
sportsman is to shcot the old cock first, inasmuch as,
should he escape, he flies, followed by the young birds,
to a considerable distance; in this they are generally
successful. ‘The young birds are then marked, and
easily shot by experienced sportsmen. J*resh coveys
are then found, and the sport continues until inter-
rupted by darkness: three good shots can generally
depend on securing fifty partridges during a day’s fair
Sport.
Hares in this division of Germany are principally
shot for the sake of their skins: few of them are killed
during autumn, but so soon as the lower part of their
belies grows white, about the month of December, and
fine frosty weather or snow sets in, the hare-hunting of
Germany commences, a sport unknown in any other
part of Enrope, the excitement of which it is impossible
to describe, and which to be appreciated must have
been enjoyed. ‘The country is parcelled out into hunt-
ing districts, which belong sometimes to the crown, but
more frequently to the neighbouring proprietor: they
may occasionally be hired for sport. Each ground is
hunted only once a year, and that only on two-thirds
of the division, the remainder being left as a preserye,
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
OL
A party, varying in number from 70 to 150, according
to the ground, is invited: a eood shot, who is also the
fortunate possessor of a well-trained dog, may rely on
an invitation. After enjoying the hospitality of the
owner at breakfast, the party set forward, under the
wuldance of two keepers intimately acquainted with the.
country: they divide themselves into two bodies, the
one going to the left, the other to the right, and form-
Ing, each sportsman standing at the distance of from
90 to 100 paces apart, a large circle, not unfrequently
of four or five miles in diameter. Immediately oa the
formation of the circle a signal is given, and the party
slowly advance towards the centre. A single hare at
first here and there is disturbed, and a few shots are
heard : as the sportsmen advance more hares are roused,
and the noise of the discharge of fowling-pieces in-
creases: the hares in parties of five or six are then seen
seeking an exit from destruction, and flying round the
circle, they generally run round twice before they
attempt to escape, and on the third circuit break
through: the slaughter at this period is not so great
* e - e
as might be imagined, nearly two-thirds of the hares
escaping. ‘This arises from their breaking the circles
in larger parties of from fifteen to twenty. The circle
is not yet broken, and the ceitre is coming near; the
number of hares eradually increases until the enclosed
Space is almost one living: mass: the destruction is then
most terrific, and the noise of the sportsmen, dogs, and
euns, more like a field of battle than a bhattu of
hunters. Long before there is any danger of wound-
ing each other, the hares are generally either all de-
stroyed or have escaped; and the sport of the day is
over, unless indeed, as is not uncommon, another
ground has been appropriated for the afternoon’s ser-
vice. In good seasons, out of one ground a party of
100 generally kill from 300 to 400 hares; 700 or SOQ
are not uncommon numbers when the ground is changed,
‘The hares are immediately collected by the attendants,
placed in waggons, and taken at once to the furriers,
to whom they are disposed at an average of 2s. per
head. As great order and regularity are preserved
amonest the sportsmen, accidents are of rare occurrence.
Fach ground being hunted but once a year, is favour-
able to the preservation of game, which increases
apidly. Greyhounds and lurchers are strictly pro-
hibited in this sport. Gotha and Weimar are con-
sidered the most sporting districts of Germany.
A LOOKING-GLASS FOR LONDON.—No. XVII.
CoMMERCE—TuHE Docks.
Tne commerce of the port of London, which had been
eradually increasing during the first half of the
eighteenth century, outgrew in the second half the ex-
isting accommodation of the harbour. The “ Legal
Quays ’’—quays at which vessels were allowed to land
their cargoes, and at which Custom-house officers were
stationed—continued the same in number and extent
as In the reign of Queen Elizabeth; and though to
these were added a number of “ Suiferance Wharfs,”
they were altogether totally inadequate to the wants
of the shipping. ‘The port, at particular seasons, was
often nearly blocked up by fleets of merchantmen, many
of them lying at anchor in the middle of the stream,
and discharging their cargoes into lighters and barges.
The only dock at that time was a small basin on the
south side of the river, called the Greenland Basin,
(since enlarged, and the name altered into the Com-
mercial Docks) which was used only by a few vessels in
the Greenland fishery. The warehouse accommodation,
too, at the legal quays and wharfs, was quite insufficient
for the purposes of a trade aud commerce, expanded
with extraordinary and almost unexampled rapidity,
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THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
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| Map of the Port of London. |
The quays were frequently covered with sugar-hogs-
heads piled six and eight high; bales, barrels, boxes,
and baes were to be seen heaped together in confusion.
At the seasons when the East and West India mer-
chantmen arrived, the delay in the permission of the
Custom House authorities to vessels to break bulk,
and discharge cargoes—delay caused by the want of
accommodation—was often most harassing, as well as
expensive to the parties concerned.
Along with this want of accommodation in the har-
bour, there existed a system of pillage and depredation,
which, though it was in full operation only forty years
avo, we at the present day can scarcely think credible.
The main body of depredators was composed of the
lichtermen, watermen, and labourers; but in not a few
instances their practices were winked at and shared in
by some of the revenue officers, numbers of the crews,
and sometimes too by the mates and even the captains
of vessels. These were backed by a host of receivers,
who, either as publicans or as keepers of shops for the
sale of marine stores, metal, and rags, carried on an |
extensive business in stolen property. As might be
expected, the state of morals was very low; the pro-
perty acquired by fraud was too often spent in drunken-
ness and riot. Mr. Colquhoun, in his work on the
‘Commerce and Police of the River Thames,’ published
in 1800, has given some remarkable instances of the
daring and andacity of the various classes of thieves on
the river and at the quays. He drew a number of his
details from Parliamentary reports, aided by personal
inquiry, and by his experience as a police magistrate ;
and though his statements have been charged. with
exagveration, there can be no doubt that the mischief
which he exposed was an enormous one. “* I knew the
port,” said, in 1822, one of the most eminent of our
London West India merchants, Mr. Hibbert, ‘* under
that disgraceful situation in which it was about the
latter end of the last century, and being a very large
importer of produce, I became intimately acquainted
with the sufferings of the trade, both from want of ac-
commodation, aud from a system of depredation of
which, in the present day, we have no idea.” An ex-
ample or two may illustrate this statement :—
A boat full of river pirates—freebooters who were in
the habit of marking during the day the particular
snips, lighters, and barges which they meant to rob at
night, and who would even cut loaded lighters adrift,
following them till the tide carried them to some con-
venient place to be pillaged—were weirhing the anchors
and cables of an American and a Guernsey ship, when
the masters of the vessels, who were asleep below, were
roused by the noise, and came up on deck to see what
was the matter. ‘The pirates politely informed them
that they had just taken up their anchors and cables,
and wishing them avery good morning, rowed off and
escaped with their booty.
The proprietor of a cargo of oil from the British
colonies in America, which was discharging into lighters
in the river, was annoyed by unaccountable deficiencies,
and determined to watch and discover the way in which
his property was abstracted. The lightermen, coming
up with a portion of the cargo, wilfully contrived to
lose the tide, and took the opportunity of turning all
the casks with their bungsdownwards. The proprietor
at the quay caused a part of the ceiling of the liehter
to be taken up, and filled fifteen casks with oil taken
out of the hold, much to the provocation of the lighter-
men, who vehemently affirmed that all leakage was
nothing but their fair and honest perquisites.
The captain of a ship, who insisted on searching a
gang of lumpers—labourers employed in discharging
cargoes—before they left the deck of his vessel, was
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sugar, his private property, which stood in the cabin,
was emptied in a few minutes into bags, and handed
through the window into a waterman’s boat, and carried
clear off almost before his face.
In the month of October, 1798, a lighter was robbed
of five casks of American ashes, of the value of 50/.
‘The contents were carried in bags to the house of an
Opulent receiver, who sat up two different nights for
the purpose. ‘The thieves were remunerated by receiv-
ine about a fourth of the value, besides being reealed
with a supper and liquor, and the watchman received
half-a-crown for his civility in taking no notice of the
transaction !
These are but specimens of the way in which the
commerce of London suffered, and which, alone with
the want of accommodation, led to the establishment of
the Thames Police* and of the Docks. Yet it is asto-
* In the first of this series of papers on London, the credit of
being mainly instrumental in establishing the Thames Police is
given to Mr. Colquhoun. In his work on the River, he assumes
the merit of having suggested the plan, and records the compli-
ments he received from public individuals as its author. There
can be no question about Mr. Colquhoun’s merits as a police
reformer; but it is due to the memory of the late Mr. Harriot
(whom Mr. Colquhoun mentions, with approbation of his fitness
for the office, as having been appointed the first resident magis-
trate of the Thames Police) to state that he, in his autobiography
entitled ‘ Harriot’s Struggles through Life,’ published in 1807,
while Mr. Colquhoun was alive, claims the exclusive merit of
having suggested the plan; and affirms that Mr. Colquhoun, to
whom he was at the time personally unknown, having heard of it,
invited him to meet him, and to bring a copy of the plan with him.
Mr. Harriot adds, “From this time Mr. Colquhoun incessantly
exerted himself until he obtained the sanction of government for
the establishment of what was at first called the Marine-police ;
and but for his great exertions with the West India merchants,
as well as with his Grace the Duke of Portland and Mr. Dundas,
I am satisfied that the river-police would not then, if ever, have
been adopted.
‘ With Mr. Colquhoun I was appointed to act, and the office
was opened at Midsummer, 1798. In the organization and car-
rying it into complete execution, I need not hesitate in saying
J took a full share. We seized the bull by the horns, and never
quitted our hold for upwards of two years. It was a labour not
unworthy of Hercules, and we succeeded, by our joint efforts, in
bringing into reasonable order some thousands of men who had
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
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While engaged in this, a barrel of | nishing to remark how long the annoyances were borne
before remedies were provided. ‘The merchants of
London held meetings about the matter in 1793; and
Parliament took the subject up in 1796, by instituting
a formal inquiry. Nothing, however, was done as to
the establishment of docks till 1799, partly owing to
dissensions among the merchants as to the proper mode
of carrying out the plans, and partly to the great op-
position which was made by wharfingers and others
interested in keeping the shipping wholly in the river.
The West India merchants, who were the greatest
sufferers froin pillage, determined on having docks for
their own trade; and were powerful enough to get their
bill for the construction of the West Inp1a Docxs
passed in 1799, in which was a compulsory clause com-
pelline, for a certain period, all West India vessels to
vo into the docks. In the following year, 1800, the
other merchants got the bill passed for tlie establish-
ment of the Lonpon Docks, (or rather Dock, for the
smaller Dock was not made for many years afterwards, )
and in it, also, was a compulsory clause, requiring, for
a certain period, all vessels laden with certain kinds of
cargoes—wine, brandy, &c.—to enter. ‘The bill for
making the East Inn1a Docks was passed in 1803.
Nothing farther was done in the way of establishing
Wet Docks, with the exception of converting the Green-
land Basin into the Commercial Docks, until 1827,
when the Sr. Karnerine’s Docks were begun, which
were opened towards the end of 1828, their construc-
tion having been carried on with extraordinary rapidity.
Some idea of the excitement produced by the sup-
posed diversion of the shipping from the river into
docks may be obtained from the fact, that the sum
demanded as compensation (without reckoning the
purchasing of land and houses, which cost the London
Dock proprietors especially an enormous sum) was
nearly 4,000,000/. sterling. But of this only 677,382/.
was paid, all the rest being disallowed. ‘The govern-
ment bought the legal quays for 486,087/., and granted,
daring attack which was made upon the Thames Police Office
shortly after its establishment by a mob of coal-heavers, labourers,
&c., in which the magistrates had to resort to fire-arms, and seve-
long considered plunder as a privilege” Mr. Harriot describes a i ral individuals were shot,
294
as compensation to persons having’ vested in erests in
the “ mooring-chains’ of the harbour, asum of 138,791.
The amount paid out of the consolidated fund , by virtue
of the several acts for improving the Port or London,
and for constructing docks, was, including the purchase
of the leval quays, 1,651,685.
We may commence our inspection of the docks with
those last constructed and nearest to London—-the St.
Katherine’s. For many years great jealousy and pre-
caution were exercised at the other docks in the adinis-
sion of strangers and visiters, who were required to
produce tickets, or orders for admission from a director,
at the gates. But all this is now done away; the
eates of the different docks are freely open during
woking hours to the passing stranger, the vigilance of
the vate- -keepers, and of the dock constables or watch-
men, being considered sufficient for the protection of
the varied and valuable property within.
Although the different docks have each their charac-
teristics, they may be deseribed generally as basins for
the reception of shipping, surrounded by warehouses
and enclosed by walls. The St. Katherine’s Docks lie
immediately below the Tower of London. The ap-
pearance of this establishment differs in many respects
from that of the other docks. Beauty has been sacri-
ficed to utility. Here are no spacious quays, nor long
ranges of warehouses; and though the area inclosed is
twenty-four acres, the place has a look of being crowded
and confined. But the warehouses make up in height
and depth what they want in length. ‘They are six
stories high, and are massive and capacious; the vaults
below are extensive depositories. The ground-floors of
the warehouses towards the docks are eighteen feet
high, open, and supported by pillars; a contrivance by
which labour and Space are saved, for vessels in the
docks can come close to the warehouses, and discharge
their cargoes directly into them, without the necessity
of the goods being laid down on a quay in their transit.
The docks, of which there are two, with an entrance-
basin, are capable of containing from 150 to 160 ships,
besides evattime Fineslock leading from the river is 195
feet long and 45 feet broad, and is crossed by a swing
bridge 23 feet wide. The depth of water at spring’
tides is 28 feet in the lock, and thus ships of 600 and
S00 tons can come up the river with a certainty of
adinission into the docks. Altogwether, though the St.
Katherine’s Docks are deficient in extent or spacions-
ness, as compared with the others, the solidity of
the buildings, the completeness and ingenuity of the
mechanical apparatus and arrangements, and the bustle
and activity within, are calculated to make a strong
linpression on the visiler’s mind.
From the St. Katherine’s we can enter, crossing
Nightingale Lane, the London Docks. Wis is a mag-
nificent establishment; it covers upwards of 100 acres
of ground, and cost in its construction about 3,000,0002.
sterling. There is cellarage lere for nearly 60,000
pipes of wine, and the tobaeco warehouses can hold
24,000 hogsheads. ‘The two docks, the larger and the
smaller, can accommodate 800 ships. From the ex-
tent of the place, and the capacity of its warehouses
(which are inferior in height and massive ponderous-
ness to those of the St. Katherine’s, though imposing
from their range), there is less of bustle and seeming
confusion than in the docks which we had previously |
inspected.
' From the London to the West India Docks there is
a walk of abont a mile and a half. Ifthe extent of the
prem, Docks surprised ns, that of the West India
Docks will astonish still more. ‘The entire ground oc-
cupied by them is about 295 acres! ‘Vhis includes the
canal across the Isle of Dogs, made by the corporation
of the city of London at the same time that the West
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
[JoLy 1,
India Docks were constructing; the object of it was to
enable vessels to avoid the circuit of the river, those
availing themselves of it being required to pay a toll.
But Phe speculation proved unsuccessful, and the canal
was sold to the West India Dock Company, who have
turned it into a dock for wood-laden vessels. There
have been at one time in these docks, on the quays,
under the sheds, and in the warelteiiaea as much as
20,000,0002. worth of colonial produce ;—sugar, coffee,
rum and wine, mahowany, dyewoods, &c. &e. The West
India Docks has been an exceedingly successful specu-
lation—the shareholders receiving for many years an
annual dividend of ten per cent., while, at the same
time, a large sum was accumulating as a reserve fund.
Competition has lowered the rate of profit.
The East India Docks at Blackwall, thoneh inferior
in extent to the London and tlhe West India, are yet
sufficiently capacious. ‘They are surrounded by lofty
walls. Both the West India and the East India Docks
have two basins, termed Import aud Export docks—
their names denote their uses. ‘‘ Nothing,” says Baron
Dupin, ‘‘ appears more simple than the idea of forming
separate docks for the loading and unloading of im-
portations and exportations: yet infinite as the advan-
tages which it affords are, in preventing confusion and
the frauds which it naturally produces, the FHnelish
constructed docks for more than a century before tliis
idea struck them.” The East India Import Dock has
a superficies of nineteen acres, the Export ten, and the
basin three: having to receive large vessels, they were
constructed so as to have never less than twenty-three
feet of water.
The number of individuals who pour out of the docks
when the hours of closing them have arrived is not a
little remarkable. Revenue officers, clerks, warehouse-
keepers, engineers, coopers, and labourers of every
orade, seein actually to block up the way. There
may be about, on an average, 5000 employed in the
St. Katherine's, London, and the West and East India
Docks.
The following is a tabular view of the quantity of
shipping’ entering the different docks in the port of
London. <A few steam-boats are omitted, as steam-
boats do not use the docks; they require to take off
their wheels, in entering, and therefore when they go
in, It is only for the purpose of repairing or laying up.
It will be seen from this statement that there is ample
dock accommodation in the port of London :—
Ships entering with Cargoes. Ships entering light,
Years, Ships. Tonnage. Ships. Tonnage.
West Ind; 1820 . 562 . 157,602 . Sebee Sadao
) ks. fs { 1830 . 619 . 169,073 . 30gu aae.cen
- 1835 . 563 . 167;4d6). eee, lore
Ind: 1820 . 120 . O06 ROS Sous
= lee : 1830 . 67 ~ 59,3a5 0) a eee
inal 1835. 41 . “29,6000
Lawa 1820 , 853 . 141,898). 4020) pees
= ea, 1830 « 715 . 189,965. 9 @82u moma
— 1835 . 868 . 169,742. 691 . 103,766
St. Katherine’s( 1830 . 500 . QS \003 0 ee cee oe
Docks. ‘ 1835 . 414 . 103,019 .ggee eB, 951
, ¢ 1820 . 180 43.207. . 90 . Qb424
a git 1830 . 26 . 61828 6 . 720, Spelling
— 1835 . 14) . 40478. . 31 . Sie
a 1820 , 42 . 11,946 ... 32 (eee
a” o ry A 1880 . of . 9949 . \, Quam
— 1835. . 840 ". 13.386 | nn
Z 1820 . 144 . 35,808 . 79629 0 ieee
Grand ey 1880 . 112 . 30,899) 4Ge eee
Canal Docks 4935 ~, 143° , 40.399 8 Soe
Regent's 1830 . 592... JOS35. .:o en cae
Canal Dock, 1835 » 207 Dee 143, 851 a 8 ol ® 7,920
1837.]
THE TEUTONIC ORDER OF KNIGHTHOOD.
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
293
lands of Lobau and Culm, if the Grand Master, Her-
Tre three great religio-military Orders of Knighthood | mann de Salza, would send a portion of the brother-
which sprang out of the First Crusade were originated
by similar motives and for similar purposes. ‘The
Templars and the Knights of St. John of Jerusalem,
(Knights of Malta) whose history has been already
elven, were in existence before the formation of the
Veutonic Order. There was a German fraternity at
Jerusalem from an early period of the twelfth century.
A benevolent German built, in 1127, an hospital for
the reception of such of his countrymen as arrived
among the crowds of pilgrims, exhausted, and without
the means of procuring food or accommodation. ‘To
the hospital was added a chapel; and a little commu-
nity was soon formed, whose business was to minister
to the wants of their countrymen. But the society was
dispersed when Saladin took Jerusalem from the Cru-
saders.
Towards the end of 1190, during the protracted siege
of Acre, which place was defended by the Saracens
with persevering obstinacy, famine and pestilence made
sad havoc among the disorderly multitudes of the
assailing army. ‘The Knights Templars considered the
French as more peculiarly claiming their care, and the
Knights of St. John, the Italians. Some trading citi-
zeus of Bremen and Lubeck, whose ships were lying
off Acre, moved with pity at the condition of many
sick and wounded Germans, who were destitute of all
succour, removed the sails of their vessels, and with
them erected a temporary hospital. It is worth while
remarking how, in those times, some of the gentlest
and most self-denying offices of humanity were mingled
with what was selfish, cruel, and savage. ‘Tio be a
crusader, no matter what the moral character might be,
was an honourable distinction; and to perform kind
actions to sick and wounded crusaders, while engaged
in their attempts to recover or defend the Holy Land,
was a deed of more than ordinary charity.. ‘he tem-
porary hospital of the merchant-sailors soon, therefore,
eathered a number of attendants; and from this cir-
cumstance the thought arose of forming a German
order of knighthood, which was instituted by Frederick,
Duke of Swabia, about the beginning of 1191. The
Order was named the German Brothers, Knights of the
Tentonic house or hospital of Jerusalem. Their busi-
hess was expressed to be, the attending to the wants of
pilgrims, the conversion, or rather the conquering, of
infidels, the defence of the Holy Land, and the protec-
tion of the church. The pope, Clement ITI., confirmed
the institution of the Order, which established itself in
Acre, when that city surrendered (after a siege of two
years) to the united efforts of Richard I. of England,
and Philip of France.
About thirty-seven years after the formation of the
‘order, a new field for its exertions was opened in
Europe. At that time what is now known as Prussia
and Lithuania, was occupied by the descendants of
some of those numerous tribes, which, in former ages,
by their repeated irruptions had broken up and dismein-
bered the Roman empire, and subsequently became the
founders of kingdoms. But while neighbouring nations
were beginning to exhibit symptoms of advancing civi-
lization, and professed the Christian religion, the Prus-
sians retained their primitive fierceness and idolatrous
superstitions, as the Lithuanians have done to a very
recent period. ‘They resisted all attempts to convert
them to Christianity, or to encroach on their territory ;
and they maintained an alternating but generally suc-
cessful warfare with their neighbours, especially thie
Poles. In order to make way against them, Conrad,
Duke of Masovia, turned his eyes towards the Teutonic
Knights. Their occupation was to fight against i-
fidels: here were infidels at home, as well as in the
Holy Land. He therefore offered to the Order the
hood to fieht with the Prussians. This offer was
confirmed by the emperor, Frederic II., who also gave
his formal approbation of the occupation, by the order,
of whatever might be conquered from the inhabitants,
and bestowed on the Grand Master the dignity of
prince of the empire. Moved by these considerations,
the Grand Master sent Hermann Balk, in 1227, with a
detachment of knights, into Prussia. ‘This section of
the order soon became the most important part of it.
They intrenched themselves in the country; built strong
castles, such as that of Konigsberg; founded, in 1231,
the city of Thorn, which they made the centre of their
operations; and commenced the conquest of Prussia
with determination and cruelty. Rovmg and mer-
cenary spirits, for whom the Holy Land had lost its
attractions, enlisted themselves under the banners of
the Teutonic knights*, and though the Prussians made
some desperate efforts to retain or regain their indepen-
dence, in about fifty years the entire country was sub-
jugated. In order to secure their possessions, the
knights encouraged German colonies to settle under
their protection. Malte Brun says, that at one time
they had, in Prussia alone, 19,000 villages, 55 towns,
and 48 fortified castles.
When the Holy Land was finally lost by the fall of
Acre, the Grand Master removed the head-quarters of
the Teutonic Knights to Venice; then to Marburg, in
Hesse; but ultimately Marienburg, in Prussia, became
the capital of the Order. Here a massive fortress was
built, whose ponderous walls have repeatedly resisted
the shock of artillery. Marienburg, which lies on the
Noeat, a stream which falls into the Vistula, is at pre-
sent a town of abont 5000 inhabitants, and carries on
a trade in cloth and linen.
From the settlement of the Grand Master at Marien-
burg in 1309 till the close of the fourteenth century,
was the period of the greatest power and opulence of
the Teutonic Order. An extensive territory acknow-
ledged their dominion, and the poor and humble Ger-
man brothers had become haughty and despotic lords—
their head a sovereign prince. But with riches and
power came the seeds of décay and ruin; corruption
and profligacy of manners crept in; they oppressed not
merely the natives, but those whom they invited to
settle in the country, by their exactions; they quarreled
among: themselves; and they provoked the envy of their
neighbours by their wealth, and their hatred by restless
and insolent encroachments.
“Tn 1394,” says Malte Brun, “ Wallenrode, the then
Grand Master, had assembled at Kowno an army of
200,000 soldiers belonging to the Order, and 46,000
foreigners, for the purpose of conquering Lithuama.
The Knights met on the banks of the Niemen, and
were invited to an entertainment by their general.
Contemporary writers state that a servant or waiting
brother held a small canopy of golden cloth above
every knight, that all the dishes and drinking vessels
were made of gold or silver, and that each guest was
permitted to carry away his cup and plate after the
* The knight, in Chaucer’s ‘Canterbury Tales, is thus de-
scribed :—
« A knight ther was, and that a worthy man,
That fro the time that he firste began
To riden out, he Joved chevalrie.
Full worthy was he in lus lordés war,
‘And thereto had he ridden, no man far [farther],
As well in Christendom as in Heathenesse,
And ever honoured for his worthmesse.
At Alisandre he was when it was wonne.
Full often time he hadde the bord begonne,
[Had often sat at the head of the table],
Aboren allé nations in Pruce [Prussia j |
In Lettowe [Lithuania] hadde he resyed [travelled], and in
Ruce” [Russia], &c. &c.
256
feast. But in a few months afterwards the same army,
like that of Napoleon, crossed the Niemen in the most
deplorable condition, an epidemic disease cutting off
those who had escaped the sword of the enemy.”
Sixteen years afterwards, the Order received another
severe blow, from which it never recovered. Jagellon,
the Grand Duke of Lithuania, who had professed
Christianity in order to secure the throne of Poland,
and who was baptized under the name of Uladislaus,
defeated the ‘Teutonic Knights at Tannenburg, where,
under their Grand Master, Ulric, they mustered 83,000
men. In this battle, which was fought in 1410, they
lost more than 40,000; and when the remains of the
army met in Marienburg,, there were only three knights
of so distinguished a rank as to be eligible to the post
of Grand Master. Marienburge was invested by :the
victorious King of Poland; but, by negociation, a
peace was concluded, which was settled at ‘Thorn in
the beginning of 1411 *. -
If, after this severe chastisement, the Teutonic
knights had remained at peace with their neighbours,
and governed their dominions with moderation, they
might have been masters of Prussia to this day. But
it is easier to destroy than to reform a-corrupted body.
The lust of conquest,—the pride and abuse of power,—
as well as personal profligacy,—had taken deep hold of
them. ‘Their grinding oppression of the people pro-
cured for them, in return, 2n immitigable hatred; and,
at last, in 1454, a general insurrection broke out against
them. The whole of Western Prussia renounced their
anthority, and placed themselves under the protection
of. Poland. ‘This led to one of the most disastrous and
cruel wars in which the knights had hitherto been en-
gaged ; it lasted nearly thirteen years, in the course of
which it is stated, that out of 21,000 villages, at least
18,000 were reduced to ashes. ‘The war was terminated
by the second peace of ‘Thorn, which was concluded in
1466. But the peace was anything but honourable to
the Teutonic Knights.’ Not only were they obliged to
renounce Western Prussia, but they were compelled to
hold the remainder of the country as a fief of Poland.
The mortified knights did not long observe the con-
ditions of this treaty,—so humiliating to their pride:
New troubles arose out of their infractions of it. After
a protracted struggle, the Poles maintained their su-
premacy; and at last, by the Treaty of Cracow, in
1525, the Order was deprived of its sovereignty. Albert,
the Margrave of Brandenburg, and Grand Master of
the Order, had become a Protestant, and separated him-
self from it. On him, Sigismund, King of Poland,
conferred Eastern Prnssia, as a hereditary dukedom,—
taking it altogether from the Order. Albert's de-
scendant, Frederic, procured, in 1701, the dukedom to
be converted into a kingdom, and himself to be pro-
claimed the first King of Prussia, which has continued,
to the present day, in the House of Brandenburg.
* A curious case of contention between the Secret Tribunals of
Westphaha and the Teutonic Order, which occurred in the first
half of the fifteenth century, is mentioned in ¢ Secret Societies,’
pp. 392-394. A shopkeeper at Leibstadt died very much indebted
to the two officers of the Teutonic Order, whose business it was
to keeep the small towns in Prussia supplied with mercantile goods,
and they accordingly seized on the effects which he had left be-
hind him. The son of the deceased, however, produced a counter
account against the Order, of very large amount, which was
afterwards proved to be a forgery. But the Secret Tribunals of
Westphalia espoused the cause of the son, and by their aid he
was enabled for many years to annoy the haughty knights. Hans
David, for that was his name, applied to the king of Poland, to
the Secret Tribunals, to the emperor, and to the pope ; his perse-
vering obstinacy was worthy ofa better cause than one based on
perjury and forgery. During the progress of his exit he was
cast for two years into prison at Cologne. He could not possibly
have kept up against the power of the Order, if he had not been
backed by the influence of the Tribunals. He ultimately was
compelled to abandon his suit, and he devoted the rest of his }
days to conjuring and astrology.
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
[JuLy 1, 1837,
Thus, 300 years after Hermann Balk entered Prus-
sia, and established the ‘Teutonic Order in it, was it de-
prived of a sovereignty so unjustly and cruelly acquired,
and so impolitically administered. The first century
was spent in conquering the country, building castles,
founding towns, and establishing colonies; the second
in the enjoyment of their extensive dominion, in luxury,
private quarrels, inroads on their neighbours, oppression
of their subjects, and profligate living; the third cen-
tury witnessed the beginning of their downfall—their
wars proved unsuccessful, their defeats were severe,
until atlast the entire country was wrenched from
them.: | =— » a —-7 .
‘Iwo years after the treaty of Cracow, in 1527, Walter
de Cronberg, the Grand Master, fixed his residence at
Marienthal. ‘The Order, though deprived of its sove-
reign power, was still very rich, possessing a number
of estates, from which a large revenue was derived. In
1528 the Grand Master was admitted .as a member of
the circle of Franconia. The Order enjoyed consider-
able reputation and wealth down to the beginning of
the present century; but the war which followed the
breaking out of the French Revolution inflicted serious
damage on it. By the peace of Presburg in 1805, the
Grand Mastership was made hereditary in the family
of the emperor of Austria; in 1809 Napoleon sup-
pressed it altogether, and Baden, Bavaria, Wirtembureg,
Hesse, Nassau, &c., seized the estates which were in
their respective territories, allowing pensions to the
knights: Austria approved of this arrangement, so far
as regarded the property of the Order. out. ofits do-
minions ; it was also tacitly approved of by the Con-
gress of Vienna in 1815; and by au arrangement made
by the allied powers in that year, the house of the
Order. in Francfort on the Maine was assigned to
Austria, with the estates dependent on it. In con-
sequence of this settlement, the Archduke Maximilian,
as Grand’ Master, receives the revenue arising from
that property, and also the produce of two estates in
Silesian Prussia. . Ni me
A branch of the Teutonic Order exists in Holland,
but it has had no connexion with the main body for
nearly .three centuries. This branch is called the
bailiwick of Utrecht. It consists principally of the
remains of an extensive donation made to the Order in
1231, when it was in its infancy, by a Munster gentle-
man. It was held under the sovereignty of the Grand
Master of the Order, until the Reformation altered the
state of things in the Netherlands. The estates of the
province of Utrecht took the bailiwick in 1580 under
their protection, on the conditions that the Grand Com-
mander should disavow obedience to the Grand Master,
purge the order of priests, engage its members to marry,
and admit as members persons professing the Reformed
faith. Various efforts were made to get this bailiwick
back into the main body of the Teutonic Order: nego-
tiations for this purpose were going on so late as 1791,
when they were interrupted by the French Revolution
and the subsequent war. Napoleon, as he had sup-
pressed the main body in 1809, suppressed the baili-
wick of Utrecht in 1811. After the return of the
House of Orange, the king, William, proposed to the
States-General to re-establish it, which was done in
1815.
The shattered remains of this once powerful com-
munity are thus still to be found (but without con-
nexion) in Austria and Holland.
®.* The Office of the Society for the. Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at
09, Lincoln’s Inn Fields,
LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT & CO., 22, LUDGATE STREET
Printed by Winttam Crowss and Sona, Stamford Street,
THE PENNY MAGAZINE
OF THE
Society for the Diffusion of Useful-«Knowledge.
J39. 1]
Ee a
PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY.
[Jury 8, 1837.
SKETCHES OF THE PENINSULA.—No. I.
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rBelem Castle. e.]
TuERe are but few rivers which exhibit so many of the
beauties of nature, comprised in one view, as the Tagus
near its mouth; and but very few cities which pos-
sess SO many circumstances contributing to picturesque
effect as Lisbon. The capital of Portugal is built upon
a range of hills, which form the termination of the
Guadarama mountains, after having traversed the pro-
vinces of Beira and Estremadura. Seven of these hills
are covered by the city; and they may be classed in
three groups, namely, Lisbon, or those occupied by the
castle of St. George, the convents of St. Vicente de Fora
and La Gracia, Campo d’Orique, &c. &c., which form
the upper and principal part of the city, in which are
the government offices, palace of the Cortes, arsenals,
&c.; Buenos Ayres, containing the palace of the Ne-
cessidades, Estrella, &c.; and Belem; the valley of Al-
cantara divides the two latter eroups, which is crossed
by a bridge dedicated to St. Peter. On entering the
Tagus, after having passed Fort St. Julien, the old
tower or castle of Belem is the first object we arrive at.
This beautiful specimen of the Moresque style of
architecture stands on the sandy beach of the Tagus,
at the point of a small bay, covering Lisbon from
the sea, in conjunction with the Bouje, or Lighthouse
Fort, on the opposite side of the bar. The batteries,
which extend from the tower along the bank of the
Vou. VI,
river, though almost entirely ruined by the French and
by neglect, still mount sufficient guns to make them for-
midable. Behind the tower stands the convent of St.
Jeronimo, now called the Casapia, or House of Charity.
Lo describe this building so that any idea might be
formed of its extreme beauty or elaborate workmanship
would be impossible: the sculpture-covered chapel, with
its walls and pillars and roof of white marble; the
beautiful quadrangle, with its delightful fountain; the
minaret-shaped buttresses, are each sufficient for a
treatise ; suffice it to say, that there is scarcely a stone
in the building but has some elegant Moresque device
carved upon it. Casapia signifies literally “‘ house of
pity”’—the word (pia) being an abbreviation of piedade,
pity ;—it is therefore appropriated to the preservation
and education of orphans, and such children as are
deserted by their parents, from whatsoever cause. ‘The
manner of placing children there is as follows :—
Near the door is a circular box, in which the infant
is laid, with the name desired written on a piece of
paper, as well as any private sign by which it may be
reclaimed at any future period ; “the box then turns on
a pivot, and its burden is thus introduced to the interior.
Many persons too poor to educate their offspring de-
posit them here, as at any future period,-should their.
fortunes prove more prosperous, they may recover them
21
oo
on the payment of a certain fine: the females are
educated, and the product of their industry forms part
of their marriage portion; the males are taught useful
trades or professions, and when arrived at a proper age
are set up in business, or provided for in some suitable
calling. ‘Phe convent is enormously tich, as few persons
make their wills without remembering the Casapia. It
was from the front of this convent that Vasco de Gama
took leave of Portugal when embarking on that me-
norable expedition which has ranked his native land
as one of the first maritime countries in the world at
that time.
Near the convent of St. Jeronimo are the royal
geardens and summer lodge of the queen; the building
is plain, in the villa style, and the @ardens tastelessly
Jaid out and badly kept. The town of Belem is small
and irregular, although the great number of quintas
and palaces of the nobility give it an appearance of
oreat beauty. ‘The height immediately in the rear of
the gardens is crowned with the large and unfinished
palace of the Adjuda; only the side towards the city has
been finished, and about two-thirds of that facine the
water: enough, however, has been done to give an idea
of the desizu. The finished front consists of two stories,
flanked at each end by square towers one story higher,
and ornamented with two rows of pilasters, the lower of
the Doric, and the upper of the Ionic order; a window
is placed in each intercolumniation, except in the centre,
where their place is supplied, in the lower story, by
three archways, leading into the interior quadrangle ;
the centre projects but very little from the body of the
building, and has a heavy and unpleasing effect; the
towers are surmounted by trophies, and the entrances
ornamented with statues, whose 1ll proportions and
clumsy execution show but too plainly the low ebb of
the fine arts in Portugal. The view which this build-
ine commands, from its elevated position, is one of un-
rivalled grandeur; and should it ever be finished, will
form a most delightful as well as noble residence for
the monarchs of Portugal; but it is much to be doubted
whether the national funds will ever be in so flourishing
a condition as to afford the means of finishing so ereat
an indertaking.
PECULIARITIES OF THE CLIMATE OF CANADA
AND THE UNITED STATES.
[¥rom a Correspondent. }
A MISTAKEN opinion generally prevails regarding the
climate of the United States as compared with that of
Canada. Butin speaking of the United States I would
wish to be understood as not embracing the whole ex-
tent of that vast conntry, but more particularly in
reference to those States most commonly resorted to
by European emigrants, comprising New York, Penn-
sylvania, Ohio, Michigan, Indiana, and Illinois; and
with respect to Canada, I refer more particularly to the
Upper Province; since nine-tenths of all the settlers
that annually arrive at Quebec and Montreal, leave the
uncongenial climate of the Lower Province, and find
their way to Upper Canada.
Before I proceed to wive a comparative view of the
climates of these sections of the western continent, it
may not he uninteresting to present some account of
the character of the climate generally; and although
the degree of cold, and the vast and rapid changes of
temperature, may not equally apply to all parts of
North America, yet the following statements may be
applied, more or less directly, to all those districts
where British emigrants are likely to go in search of
new homes.
When North America first became known to Euro-
peans, they soon discovered that the winters there, even
in the middle latitudes, were a great deal more severe
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
| J ule,
than the same seasons in corresponding latitudes on
the continent of Europe; and it was but reasonable to
presume that a longer and better acquaintance with the
newly-discovered country would serve to develop the
natural causes of this somewhat singular phenomenou.
Since that period, however, whole centuries have passed
away,—generation has succeeded generation,—until a
considerable portion of that vast continent has become
peopled by an intelligent and enlightened community,
—and yet still no satisfactory explanation has been
given why the winters of the middle latitudes of the
New World are longer and more severe than those of
corresponding latitudes in the Old one. Many persons
have entertained an opinion that when, in a gereat
measure, the forests became cleared away, the climate
would become considerably milder, and more nearly
resemble that of corresponding latitudes on the con-
tinents of Kurope and Asia; and even at this day you
meet with many persons who still entertain this opinion,
although, when questioned on that point, and asked to
produce their proofs, they are not able to adduce a
single fact to assist in corroborating any such theory.
Some of the older inhabitants will declare to you, that
the winters are much less severe “now” than they were
forty or fifty years ago; but if credit is to be given to
the records of those by-past times, we shall find that,
with one or two exceptions, some of the seasons of
the last quarter of a century have been fully as severe
as any upon record. Many persons assert, and I
believe with some degree of accuracy, that the seasons
in Knrope, and in our own island particularly, have
undergone a remarkable change within the memory of
many persons now living: and if such really be the
case, how few attempts have been made to account for
this change!—since no great natural phenomenon,
like that of clearing away millions of acres of forest-
timber, aud thereby exposing the cold and moist soil
to the action of the sun’s rays, has recently taken place
here; so that if the climate of Great Britain has actu-
ally undergone a change, the cause, whatever that may
be, must be of a different nature from that generally
supposed to affect the climate of North America.
In some of the eastern states, Vermont and New
Hampshire for instance, which are intersected by the
43rd and 44th degrees of North latitude, snow fre-
quently falls to the depth of three or four feet, and in
some of the mountainous regions in still larver quanti-
ties; and not unfrequently during the winter mouths,
Fahrenheit’s thermometer will fall to 20°, and even
30°, below zero, or from 50° to 60° below the freezing
point. ‘This extreme degree of cold, however, but rarely
continues longer than two or three days at once,—
but it probably occurs three or four times during the
winter months. Now these latitudes correspond to the
proverbially mild southern departments of France, as
well as to Spain, and the sunny valleys of northern
Italy. Leaving the monntainous rewions out of the
question, the elevation of those States already named is
but trifling, and their distance from the ocean from
100 to 200 miles. The great heat during the summer
months should also be kept in view, since the heated
state of the earth, during the latter part of that season,
might reasonably be supposed to lessen, in some degree,
the rigour of the succeeding winter. ‘The weather
usually becomes very warm in the latter part of May,
and continues so, with but little intermission, until the
autumnal equinox, about which period the nights begin,
to get cool, and slight frosts occasionally occur. ‘The
extreme summer heat but seldom reaches 90°, although
the thermometer, in the coolest shade, will occasionally
rise to 95°. Now, if we take the two greatest extremes
that ever occur, namely 95° and 25° below 0, we have
a variation in the actual state of the temperature of
120°, which is something greater than the difference of
1837.]
temperature of the atmosphere (in the shade) in sum-
mer and hoiling water!—since the difference between
212° (the boiling point) and 95° is only 117° In
Lower Canada the wiuters are still more severe than in
those States already spoken of; but that section of
Upper Canada lying under the 43rd parallel of latitude
experiences a degree of cold considerably less than that
before mentioned. Some persons have imagined that
the climate of that part of the Upper Province lying
coutiguous to the great lakes is influenced, some way
or another, by the vast expanse of water; but this I
hold to be an exceedingly vague hypothesis. It is true
that the surface waters of the great lakes become tepid
during the summer months,—but experience has proved
that, so early as the month of December, the tempera-
ture is reduced to as low a degree as that of the water
at the depth of fifty or sixty fathoms; so that it can
scarcely be supposed that a body of water, whose tem-
perature does not much exceed (if at all) 40°, should
possess any peculiar influence, so as to lessen materi-
ally the severity of the climate during the long winters,
Were such actually the case, how is it that the degree
of cold experienced at the cities of Boston and New
York (both situated near the sea) is fully equal to that
of places under the same parallels or latitude, although
situated in the interior of the country, 50 or 100 miles
from the sea-shore? Another circumstance might be
adduced to show that the climate of Upper Canada its
uuinfluenced by the e@reat fresh-water lakes; for the
district adjoining Lake Erie enjoys the mildest climate
of any part of the province, and yct that lake is much
the shallowest one in the whole range, in consequence
of which its waters are reduced to so low a temperature
that no inconsiderable portion of it closes with ice
during the greater part of winter. If, therefore, the
clinate of the Upper Province is not acted upon by
reason of its contieuity to the great lakes, some other
cause remains to be discovered in order to account
satisfactorily for this fact, namely, that the section of
Upper Canada bordering upon lakes Erie and Sinclair
enjoys a milder climate than any of the States of the
Union under the same parallel of latitude, or even 2°
or 8° farther to the south. Not only is the cold less
intense, but the average quantity of snow is much less
than in the northern and eastern parts of the United
States. ‘Those persons who build their theory upon
the supposition that the seasons become milder as the
original forests gradually disappear, would find the
facts already stated difficult to wet over, since Upper
Canada is altogether a more recently- settled country
than any of the eastern states, and, consequently a
larger portion of its lands continue in a state of
primeval wilderness.
In referring to a meteorological register which I kept
during a residence of several years on the borders of
Lake Erie, I find that the lowest point to which a
correct Fahrenheit’ s thermometer ever fell was 7° below
zero, or 39° below the freezing point ; and this occurred
but twice or thrice in the course of five years. Four
degrees below zero is the next lowest point to which
it “fell ; and through the whole of one winter it was
never down to zero at all. During the years I refer to,
the snow never but once reached the depth of two solid
feet on tlie plain; and in two seasons out of the five
there were not six inches of snow on the ground at any
period. ‘Phe summers, however, are fully as hot as
they are in that section of the United States to which
these comparisons have reference; and it may not be
out of place to observe, that less rain falls in Upper
Canada during that seasou than in those States lying
between it and the Atlantic Ocean. Probably this cir-
cumstance may be owing to Upper Canada being a
remarkably level country, while the intervening section
of the States towards the Atlantic is intersected by
THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 259
several ridges of hills and mountains, some of which
are of considerable elevation: and if more rain is a
natural consequence of this peculiar formation of coun-
try last mentioned, may not a greater quantity of snow
be accounted for in the same way ? it will, therefore,
appear evident, from what I have already stated, that
the winters in Upper Canada are less severe than in
the contiguous States of the Union,—while I vive it as
my decided opinion that, owing to the snminers being
somewhat more dry, and the “veneral flatness of the
country, the degree of heat is rather oreater,
During several years I resided in the United States,
a little to the south of 42° north latitude, and in a
south-easterly direction froin iny former abode on Lake
Erie, where I continued to keep a regular register of
the state of the thermometer, &c. The annexed
memoranda, transcribed from the pages of my journal,
will serve to show the extremes of heat and cold, as
well as the extraordinary and sudden changes that
sometimes take place in the state of thie temperature,
which, no doubt, has an unfavourable influeuce on the
veneral Healinmees of the country.
N. latitude, 41° 53’. W. longitude, 76° 4’.
1832, July 7th. i ometer, at mid-day, 85° in the shade.
60°
. 3 Jth. 9 ” Dp
Se, Jan. Sth. ie at 10 a.m. 58° 4
" (| Cte F at 8 am. 14°
?
pe, eb. 2atieeereat | p.m., 35°; at 3 p.nz., 25°:
eee and at 8 p.a., 2°;
i seven hours.
2nd. Ther. at 10 s.u., 14°; at 1 p.sr, 3°; at 5 pian,
2° below zero; and at 10 ria, 13° below
zero; being an increase of cold of 27° in 12
hours.
ee uuly 2a00eemiciwe 2PM, O1%; at Spe 78% at 7p...
68°; and at 10 p.m.. 59°; being a fall in the
temperature, during the afte srn00n, of 32°,
1834, Jan. 12th. Ther. 22° all day, with a continued fall of rain.
ae OTe ee at imine, o thunder- Storm during
the evening.
A¥st'Thereat 8Wear., 24°
at G P.at.,
showing a fall of 36°
3). ear.
, with snow; so that in eight
3 3)
hours there was a chauge of temperature
of 38°,
+ » 22nd. Ther. at 6 a.m., 6°; so, that in 32 hours it had
fallen 56!
5 senile Wier. rar rn, ee ; at 4 pr, 18°, with a
snow-storm; so that im 6 hours the quick-
silver had sunk 36°.
5, April 17th. Ther. at noon, 74°, which pomt it reached
several successive days.
27th.’ Pherm at 9 A.m., 20°; wor hipher than 2
during the day.
9 May 4th. Ther. at 3 p.m, 52°; at 9 p.m, 27°, and a snow-
storm.
Ther. at 7 a.m., 20°, with 6 inches of snow,
and ice 12 inch thick,
of soe etn. Dher, at Yee, 76°:
July 28th. Ther. 88°; but owing to a high north wind,
not uncomfortably ‘hot.
Jan. oth, 6th, 7th, and 8th. During these four days the
quicksilver never rose above Je; and.at 6
A.M. it stood respectively at9°, T0°, 15°, and
9° below zero.
» Feb. 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 5th, 6th, 7th, and 8th. Ther. never
higher than 9° ; and on the 8th, at.6 a.m., it
stood at 11° below zero,—having each morn-
ing been below zero.
ry » bith. Themteticenyet.
I think that I have even witnessed somc greater
changes and extremes than those that I have tran-
scribed from my journal; but not having had _ the
proper apparatus, when I travelled through distant
parts of the country, wherewith to keep a regular
register, and not altogether depending for accuracy
upon those whom I left at home to superintend such
matters during my absence, I consequently décline
viving the results of those observations, doubting their
perfect accuracy. However, several years previous to
the dates which’I have tr: anscribed, [ remember one
morning rising’ very early, and, on examining: the ther-
mometer, I found that the mercury had sunk to 20°
below zero; yet, notwithstanding the great severity of
2L2
) 93
a y, loth.
\o
\o
1835,
wv
960
the frost, shortly after daybreak, [ set ont in company
with a young friend, with our rifles, to meet a party of
wolf-hunters, the thermometer indicating 15° below
zero at the time we left home. ‘There was much snow
on the ground at the time; so that with the exertion
necessarily called forth in traversing the woods, we were
able to keep ourselves tolerably warm without almost
any extra clothing. We wore caps in lieu of hats, in
order to sccure onr ears from the frost; and, by occa-
sionally thrusting our noses into the palms of the
woollen mittens which we wore, we contrived to keep
up the circulation, even in the most exposed .and
susceptible part of our persons.
A LOOKING-GLASS FOR LONDON.—No. XVIII.
TRADE—LUDGATE STREET AND THE SHOPS OF THE
ae a
Tue stranger who comes to reside in London, and who
has no conection, or circle of acquaintance, but such as
requires circumstances and time to form for lim, is apt,
especially if he be of a thoughtful and not over-buoyant
disposition, to expericnce a strong re-action of feeling.
When the excitement produced by the “ vreat city” has
passed away—when its si@hts lave been seen, and its
streets with their shops and crowds have erown familiar,
then he begins to understand what it is to be a-hermit
amongst millions. ‘The sense of seif-importance ‘is
crushed, and almost withered. He knows nobody, and
nobody knows him. He is a mere atom amongst the
thousands that flit around—a drop of rain that has
fallen into the ocean. And it is a lone time before he
becomes reconciled to his loneliness. London presents
to him, with all its ramifications and details of Traps,
a large field of employment; its comforts and its en-
joyments are divided and subdivided, exhibiting a scale
of many degrees, so that he can live cheaply, or mo-
derately, or extravagantly; there are many facilities,
and many amusements, and many temptations to be-
guile the leisure hours, or deaden the moral feeling ;
still, if he has not fallen into vice, or run into dissi-
pation, the sense of loneliness will rise above all, and
‘““home-sickness’ for a time may depress his energies.
But the manly and cheerful mind gets over all this.
Then the streets of London become full of instruction
and entertainment. We begin to classify them, to
catch, as it were, their varied hues and colours, to
remark the differences produced on beings of like
passions and feelings by circumstances and education ;
to see how widely men differ, who dwell on the same
soil, and live in one neighbourhood. ‘* London cries,”
at first unintelligible, begin to have some meaning, and
even some music in them; and the guttural croaking
murmur of the old-clothesman, as he passes in the
morning, is less harsh and more plaintive than before.
London becomes truly a living panorama; the hum-
blest and dingiest-looking street has some point of
interest; the shops, from the coal-shed and the potato-
store, to the stately show-room, with its double-doors
and tall plate-glass, and mirrors that multiply its ex-
tent, are full of animation. On every side ample ac-
commodation is offered’ on the most reasonable terms.
Hats that you can fold up and put in your pocket;
cloaks Impervious to rain; boots and shoes, the easiest,
and the neatest, and the cheapest; clothes of the
newest cut, and warranted to wear, at least for some
time ; patent sauces, patent medicines, patent barley,
patent harps, and patent maneles; portable desks and
portable steam-engines; economical steam-boilers and
steam coffee-fountains; medicine-chests, iron and brass
bedsteads, aud invalid sofas and chairs; bazaars to
walk in, and “no charge for admission ;” likenesses
taken ‘tin this manner” for ls., or 2s. 6d., or 10s. 6d.;
Britannia metal that cannot be distinguished from
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
[J uy 8,
silver; goods selling off at ‘immense sacrifices ;”
everything, in short, for money that money can buy.
How is it that this great population calculates on the
regular supply of its markets and of its shops, with
something of the same certainty that they calculate on
the returns of day and night, or the ebbing and flowing
of the tides? What if the supplies of the markets were
to fail, or be cut off, or a combination of tradesmen
were to shut up the shops! Amusing speculation! the
size of London is the chief and great cause of certainty
and regularity in its supply, because there is an equal
balance in its demand. Man is under the influence of
a law of his nature, which may, not unaptly, be com-
pared to the great law which holds together the material
universe. The larger number of us may not be able,
from the want of mathematical knowledge or power, to
calculate the distance of a planet, or the period of an
eclipse, while, at the same time, we may comprehend
easily enough, the grand and simple principles of astro-
nomy; so while unable to track out the complicated
details by which the trade of London is kept moving,
we Inay see in each family, nay, in each individual, a
little world revolving on the axis of its own affairs, yet
all kept in combination and revolving round a common
centre by the gravitating power of self-consideration
and interest.
The most common and obvious of the means by
which a large share of public attention is attempted to
be drawn towards some particular trade or tradesman,
is that afforded by advertisements, handbills, and pla-
cards. But these, though often pungent enough in
expression, and set out in all the advantages of large
and small type, are sometimes insufficient to effect a
particular purpose. Necourse is therefore had, at times,
to Napoleon's principle of moving in masses—bringing
all the forces to bear at once upon a given point.
Fifteen or twenty placard-bearers scattered over Lon-
don might each, singly, accomplish nothing: but the
same number in company, marching single file, slowly
and solemnly, each with a huge board at the end of a
pole, and occasionally halting on the edge of the pave-
inent and imitating the action of a battalion of soldiers
grounding their muskets, can scarcely fail to arrest
attention. What one placard tells us might be speedily
obliterated by the next we meet; but to pass twenty in
a row, each telling the same thing, is like receiving a
succession of rapid blows on the memory. Another
scheme has been tried, of sending round a huge quad-
rangular clumsy-looking thing, so lefty that it seems to
stagger over its wheels, its sides covered with placards
of different kinds—a one-horse advertiser! Smaller
machines of this description have been sent out by some
tradesmen, each having his own advertising vehicle,
and occasionally the driver has been furnished with a
bugle, literally to blow his employer’s trumpet in the
streets. But these things are not general, and are
only to be seen occasionally.
If we take the number of “ establishments’—that is,
of counting-houses, warehouses, chambers, shops, work-
shops, and other places in London whiere individuals
or companies carry on business—at 60,000*, we can
hardly calculate the number of the working population
employed in them at less than 1,000,000. Very few
persous can carry on business in a connting-house or
shop withont the assistance of an adult or a youth:
the humblest imilliner or straw-hat-maker has in general
one or two apprentices; some single shops give out
work to twenty, forty, or eighty individuals—in many
workshops there are hundreds employed. Fifteen per-
sons to each establishment would make 900,000; we
* See vol. 11. of the ‘Penny Magazine’ (Nos, 118 and 121) for
the professions and trades of London, with the probable numbers.
Round numbers are employed above, as the calculations can only,
of course, be considered as approximations,
LHE PENNY MAGAZINE.
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the number of the working population of London at
1,000,000, including old and young, male and female,
but excluding domestic servants. If the earnings and
spendings of this million are, on an average, 20s. each,
weekly, it will amount to a greater sum annually than
the present annual revenue of Great Britain.
If one-half of the entire number of establishments
consists of shops—which allows about three shops to
each street in London—and each shop, in its retail
business, draws on an average 8/. daily (some small
shops can get on by drawing from Il. to 2/. a day, others
must draw 201., 30/., or 40/.) we have about 250,0001.,
or about 72,000,000/. yearly, circulating in the retail
trade of London: 250,000/. employed daily in the
retail trade of London is 2s. 6d. to each of the 2,000,000
of population.
About one-half of the entire number of London
establishments range under the three general heads of
food, clothing, and habitation. There are about 8500
eneaged in the supply of food, 5000 in liquors, 8000 in
clothing, from 800 to 1000 in coal, 3000 in the building,
sale, and letting of houses, and 4500 in the supply of
household furniture and decorations of every kind. By
classing food and liquor establishments together, we
have nearly 14,000 under the head of food, and only
8000 under clothing ; but the subdivisions of employ-
ment under clothing, as might naturally be expected,
are greater than those under food. The other half of
the total number of London establishments compre-
hends those engaged in the general departments of
commerce, the dealers in the materials of intelligence
and education, and of science and art, the workers in
the finer metals, the practisers in law and medicine,
and the gratifiers of wants and wishes connected with
recreation and amusement.
The old habit or custom, which is probably coeval
with the existence of cities, of particular trades or pro-
fessions settling down in particular streets or districts,
and which thenceforward become, by positive or tacit
consent, appropriated to them, is in a great degree
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» from St. Paul’s. |
The fishmonger and the
silk-mercer, the coufectioner and the butcher, the tallow-
chandler and the tailor, the chinaman and the cheese-
monger, occupy alternate shops. Some relics still
reinain of the old habit. Paternoster Row is still
much occupied by booksellers, and Lombard Street by
bankers; Long Acre by coach-makers, and Cranbourne
Alley by straw-hat-makers ; Holywell Street and Mon-
mouth Street uphold their old reputation of being
mainly occupied by those who sell old clothes for new ;
and Brokers’ Alley is crowded by dealers in second-
hand furniture. Other streets and places have distinct
characteristics, though occupied by shops of various
kinds. There are several spots which have become, by
a kind of prescription, markets for the working popula-
tion; and there provisions can be bought much cheaper,
though it may be a little coarser, than in other places.
Two of these spots are more especially worthy of notice
—a particular part of Tottenham Court Road, at the
west end, and a street called, rather singularly, the
New Cut (it is a cut of some years’ existence) on the
Surrey side of the water, in Lambeth. The latter is
worth a visit on a Saturday evening, during the fall
of the year particularly. ‘The street is occupied by
butchers, bakers, dealers in pork, beef, ham, and sau-
sages, furniture-brokers, old-clothesmen, pawnbrokers,
and gin-shops. When evening has closed, a number of
itinerant venders of wares take up positions on the
street, calculating on receiving their share of the Sa-
turday evening’s spendings. Here and there are tin
machines, some of them even elegantly finished off
with brass mountings, each containing a fire, while the
steam issues from a little pipe or funnel in each. The
proprietors of these machines make the street resound
with their cries of “ all hot !” the objects of their sale being
hot potatoes and butter, or pies. Some of them, either
from the ambition of rivalry, or stimulated by the hope of
profit (a hot potato and butter are sold for a halfpenny),
hang little lamps of variegated colours round their ma-
chines. The barrow and basket men and women shield
their candles from the wind by lanterns of tinted paper.
262
Up to twelve o’clock the street has a most animated, nay,
a brilliant appearance. Families that, from the nature
or the remuneration of their occupations, cannot dine
together but once a week, are now busily occupied in
eetting ‘something comfortable” for the next day’s
dinner. It might be a scene of unmixed enjoyment to
him who can sympathize with the humblest of his
féllows, were it not for drawbacks. ‘The ein-shops get
too large a share, in some eases, of the week’s wages.
Before the “ west-end” had sprung into existenee as
an actual second London, Ludgate Hill was a great
resort of the ladies when they went out a-shoppiieg.
In the ‘Female Tatler, of 1709, it is said, ‘* This
afternoon some ladies, having an opinion of my fancy
in clothes, desired me to accompany them to Ludgate
Hill, whieh IT take to be as agreeable an amusement as
a lady can pass away three or four hours in. The
shops are perfect gilded theatres, the variety of wrought
silks, so many chanees of fine scenes, and the mercers
are the performers in the opera; and instead of vivitur
ingenio, you have, in gold capitals, No trust by retazl.
They are the sweetest, fairest, nicest, dished-out crea-
tures; and by their elegant address and soft speeches,
vou would guess them to be Italians. As people
olanee within their doors, they salute them with ‘ ear-
deu silks, ladies’ Italian silks, brocades, tissues, cloth of
silver or eloth of gold, very fine Mantua silks, right
Geneva velvet, English velvet, velvet embossed.’ And
to the meaner sort, ‘fine thread satins, beth striped and
plain, fine mohair silk, satinets, burdets, Persianets,
Norwich crapes, anterines, silks for hoods and scarfs,
hair camlets, druggets, or sagathies, gentlemen's night-
o'owns ready made, shallons, durances, and right Scotch
plaids.’ )
“We went into a shop which had three partners ;
two of them were to flourish out their silks, and, after
an obliging smile, and a pretty mouth made, to ex-
patiate on their goodness; and the other's sole business
was to be gentleinan-usher of the shop, to stand com-
pletely dressed at the door, bow to all the coaches that
pass by, and hand ladies out and in.”
The characteristics of the principal streets of the
metropolis might be summed up in a few words. Re-
erent Street, a portion of Oxford Street and Piecadilly,
with Pall Mall, St. James’s Street, and Bond Street,
for showy grandeur and elegance; the Strand, Fleet
Street, Ludeate Hill, Cheapside, and Cornhill for more
of substanee than ostentation; and Holborn for a me-
dium between ‘“‘ west-end” elegance and “eity” solidity.
Until recently, the great distinction between the shops
of the west-end and the city was, in the latter, an ab-
sence of external attractions as compared with the west-
end. But now on LIndgate Hill, and in St. Paul’s
Churenyard, there are establishments which, for mag-
nificenee, equal, if they do not surpass anything the
west-end has to show. In these gorgeous shops, which
are oecupied by silk-mereers, India shawls and scarfs of
the richest texture, French-worked cambrics, Brussels
laee, and silks: of every quality and hue are spread
out in profusion; mirrors increase the effect, and im-
mense plate-elass in the windows, set in brass frames
euarded by brass fenees, exhibit the goods ‘tin the
best possible light.” Ludeate Hill and Street Ct is
Ludgate Hill from Fleet Street to the church, and
Ludgate Street from the chureh to St. Paul’s Church-
yard) is occupied by silk-mercers, jewellers, print-sellers,
booksellers, &c. In mentioning jewellers, we must not
forget Rundell and Bridge's, whose shop, though they
can proudly say that they have had the crown in their
possession, is a quiet, unostentatious-looking establish-
ment,
We cannot dismiss Ludgate Street without some
allusion to its literary associations. We are in the
neighbourhood of Paternoster Row and Stationers’
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
[Juny 8,
Hall. Js the popular and current literature of the day
more deteriorated now than when Oliver Goldsmith
‘“yeceived from Mr. Newberry three guineas for a
pamphlet respecting the Cock Lane ehost?” Or when
a sneer was flung out at those
“ On Ludgate Hill who bloody murders write,
Or pass in Fleet Street supperless the night !”
When Dr. Johnson was visiting Lord Monboddo in
Scotland, these intellectual contrasts had a dispute as
to whether the savage or the London shopkeeper had
the best existence! Dr. Johnson took the side of the
London shopkeeper. In writing to Mrs. Thrale, he
says, ‘‘We disputed in adjnsting the claim of merit
between a shopkeeper of London and a savage of the
American wildernesses. Our opinions were, [ think,
maintained on both sides without full conviction (')
Monboddo declared boldly for the savage, and I, per-
haps for that reason, sided with the citizen.” ‘To Bos-
well, on their departure from Monboddo’s house, John-
son said, “I don’t know but I might have taken the
side of the savage equally, had anybody else taken the
side of the shopkeeper.” Now, making every allowance
for Dr. Johnson’s love of a mere controversial triumph
In conversation, aud for his prejudices, it is astonishing
that, with his fondness for London, and his scrupulous-
ness as to the truth, he conld admit the possibility of
his taking the side of the savage. What was the
weneral intellectnal character of the London shop-
keepers in his time? Malcolm’s description thirty
years ago Is not very complimentary. ‘* Conversation
and reading are greatly neglected ; consequently [but
what a. paltry consequence the author deduees!] num-
bers of this class speak very incorrectly.” Did the
laborious author of ‘Londininm Redivivum’ think of
no greater evil as resulting from the neelect of eon-
versation and reading than the occasional substitution
of v for w, the omission or improper aspiration of the h,
the adding an 7 to some words ending with a vowel, or
the confounding of the singnlar with the plural ?
There can hardly be a doubt that a very great im-
provement—a sound, healthy improvement—has taken
place in the cultivation of the intellect, and in the
aeneral manners of all classes of soeiety. In this im-
provement the London shopkeepers have shared. They
ean afford to listen unrufled to the sarcasms which re-
presented them as vegetating for ever within the sound
of Bow bells, and of being almost startled at the sieht
of a tree. Even the old colloqial @lories’ of Coek-
neyism are passing away; the moods and tenses, and
the letters of the alphabet, are kept much more in their
natural order; and though a well-dressed person may
still be heard to eommunicate his ¢dears of a snbjeet,
it 1s now supposed that nobody above the erade of a
costermonger or a chinney-sweep can censure anything
as being “‘ werry wulgar!”’ May they, too, rise in the
scale of humanity; it is of little importance whether or
not they retain their peculiar phraseology, if a thought-
ful, provident, rational spirit influence their actions !
Pe ee
-
OPHTHALMIC HOSPITAL AT CANTON.
WirHin these two years an excellent institution has
been established at Canton, whose objects are of a very
different nature from those which nsually induce Euro-
peans to reside in China. It is a gratuitous hospital,
fonnded and almost entirely administered by a bene-
volent American physician named Parker, whose superior
skill and unremitting kindness is making an impression
on the Chinese, greatly in favour of foreigners. Al-
though professedly and principally ophthalmic, this
hospital is not confined to maladies of the eyes; Dr.
Parker admitting any diseased person to whoin his
skill may be useful. The attention bestowed on the
unfortunate applicants for relief is extreme, and it is
1837.
always gratuitous; payment being invariably refused,
even from the wealthy. A quarterly report of the state
of the hospital is regularly pnblished in the Canton
Repository, and some idea may be formed of the utility
uf the establishment, as well as of the estimation in
which it is held by the natives, from the fact that in
one quarter the number of patients admitted was above
600, nine-tenths of which were for diseases of the eye,
and that a great number were rejected as incurable.
Many applications have also been refused admittance,
from the actual impossibility of attending to them.
* For nearly a month,” it 1s stated in one of the reports,
“the doors were nominally closed against new appli-
cants, and at least one-third of the new patients have
gained admittance by importunity and the combined
influence of their friends, when there were already as
many in the hospital as could be faithfully attended.”
Almost all the labour of the hospital, even to tliat
of compounding and administering the medicines, had
devolved on Dr. Parker himself, except so far as
he could avail himself of the assistance of untaught
Chinese. He was at first mnch aided by a Chinese,
educated at the Anglo-Chinese College of Malacca, and
afterwards for a short time by an Englishman; but
those persons remained in China scarcely three months
after the establishment of the hospital, and from that
time the benevolent founder has been alone in his work
of charity.
It was at first expected that the applicants for relief
would be entirely of the poorer class; but the higher
ranks, who, it was feared, would be rather hostile than
otherwise to the undertaking, have put off their ordinary
self-sufficiency on experiencing the necessity for more
effective assistance than native skill could afford them.
As early as in his second report, Dr. Parker notices
the attendance of influential persons, who were equally
erateful for aid as their poor countrymen, whom they met
in laree numbers on the same floor. ‘* Ten officers of
2overnment, with more than twice the number of their
attendants, (private secretaries, clerks in the public
offices, &c.) have visited the hospital as patients. On
one occasion I recollect as many as five of these official
gentlemen sitting around me at one time, with seventy-
five or a hundred other patients seated about the room.
An elderly man, who has filled the situation of pro-
vincial Judge in one of the northern provinces, (the
rank of which is indicated by a blne button,) has con-
descended to be enrolled among the patients of the
hospital.”
Several cases are fully detailed in the periodical re-
ports, one of the most interesting of which we shall
partially extract, as affording an interesting recital of
the feelings of a Chinese of education, who is indebted
to this institution for the recovery of his sight. ‘This
eventleman, named Masze-yay, was private secretary to
an officer of government. He had been totally blind
for some years from cataracts in both eyes, and in this
state of affliction he made application to Dr. Parker.
An operation was performed on both eyes, by which his
sight was fully restored, and after a month’s residence
in the hospital, he was discharged in perfect health.
When the cure was effected, Masze-yay requested
that he might be allowed to send an artist to take the
likeness of the Doctor, that he might place it in his
house, and ** how down before it every day.” This was
of conrse refused, but the old gentleman was deter-
mined upon manifesting his gratitude. Je sent first a
servant with a variety of presents, and afterwards a
friend, dressed according to the approved forms of
Chinese ceremonial, who presented a gilded fan with a
quotation from Soo Tung-poo, a Chinese poet, elegantly
inscribed upon it, and an ode of his own composition,
preceded by remarks. A translation of this literary
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
263
| effusion of Masze-yay is given in the Chinese Reposi-
tory, and as it is a curions specimen of Chinese litera-
ture, as well as a remarkable exhibition of strone indi-
vidual feelings, we shall furnish our readers with an
extract.
The Chinese who was restored to sight, thus intro-
duces his poem :—** Dr. Parker is a native of America,
one of the nations of the western ocean. He is of a
eood and wealthy family, loves virtue, and takes plea-
sure in contributing to the necessities of others: he is
moreover very skilful in the medical art. In the ninth
month of the year Yihwe (Oct. 1835), he crossed the
seas and came to Canton, where he opened an institu-
tion in which to exercise ¢ratuitously his medical
talents. Hundreds of patients daily sought relief from
his hands. Sparing neither expense nor toil, from
morning to evening, he exercised the tenderest com-
passion towards the sick and miserable.” Masze-yay
ooes on to state that he had been blind several years,
when Dr. Parker came to Canton, and that he was
lutroduced to him by a friend, operated upon, and
cured; that when he left the hospital, the Doctor re-
fused payment, and told him to return thanks to God
for his cure. ‘* Compare this conduct with that of our
celebrated physiciaus. How often do they demand
heavy fees, and dose you for months together, and do
no good after all. If they do afford a partial benefit,
how do they trumpet forth their own praises, and de-
mand costly acknowledgments! But this doctor heals
men at his own cost, and thongh perfectly successful,
ascribes all to Heaven, and absolutely refuses to receive
any acknowledgment.”
After this follows the ode. Masze-yay begins by
describing the intensity of his blindness, and the loss
he sustained by the many vain efforts he made to get
relief; he then states that he began to think his mis-
fortunes arose from some sin committed by him in a
former state of existence, according to the common
Chinese belief in the transmigration of souls; but that
on considering how many good men had suffered before
him he felt more resigned. In this state of mind he
was visited by a friend.
The translation goes on in the old ballad style :—
¢T ve heard,’ the friend who enter’d said, ‘ there is come to us
of late,
A native of the flowered flag’s (*) far off and distant state.
O’er tens of thuusand miles of sea to the innerland (*) he’s
come ;
tlis hope and aim to case men’s pain—he leaves his native
home !’
I quick went forth; this man I sought,—this generous doctor
found ; .
He gain’d my heart ; he’s good and kind: and high above the
ground,
He gave a room, to which he came at morn, at eve, at night ;
Words would be vain if I should try his kindness to recite!
Ne then with silver needle jnerced the cradle of the tear (°).
What fears I felt! Soo Tung-poo’s words rang threatening in
my ear.
‘Glass hung in mist,’ these are his words, ‘take heed you do
not shake,’ a
These words of feay rang in my ear, ‘How if it chance to
break ?? ”
The poet goes on to describe his fears, and the kind-
ness of the foreigner, at which he was induced to put
his utmost confidence in him. He then continnes :—
“Fis silver needle sought the lens, and quickly from it drew
The opaque aud darksome cloud, whose effects so well I knew ;
His golden probe soon clear’d the lens, and then my eyes he
bound,
And wash’d with water, sweet as is the dew to thirsty ground.
= heres
() Hwake, the flower-flaz, the Chinese name for America.
(*) Chungkwo, the middle or inner land. This means China,
all other nations are called “ outside people.”
(*) Cradle of the tear.—Chinese poetical name for the eye.
®
264
- Three days I lay, as still as death, and nothing could I eat,
My lovsen’d limbs were stretched, as tho’ the approach of death
to meet ; —_
With thoughts distract, with mind diseased, away from home
and wife, .
I thought that by a single thread was hung my precious life.
Three days I lay, I had no food, and nothing did I feel,
No hunger, sorrow, fear, nor hope,—no thought of woe or weal ;
My strength was fled,—my life was gone,—when, sndden in my
pain,
There came a ray, a glimmering ray,—I see, I hive again !
As one starts up from visions dark who dreams a frightful
dream,—
As one uprushes from the grave, restored to day’s bright beam,—
So I with joy, and with surprise, and gladness and delight,
See friends and kindred crowd around ;—I hail the blessed hght!
With grateful heart and heaving breast,—with feelings flowing
o’er,—
I cried, ‘Oh lead me quick to him who can the sight restore !’
I tried to kneel, but he forbade, and forcing me to rise,
‘To mortal man bend not the knee;’ then, pointing to the
skies,—
‘I am,’ said he, ‘the workman’s tvol,—another’s is the hand ;
Before His might, and in His sight, men feeble, helpless ‘stand ;
Go, virtue learn to cultivate, and never thou forget, _—
That for some work of future good thy life is spared thee yet.’
The token of my thanks he refused, and would not take
Silver or gold,—they seemed as dust; *tis but for virtue’s sake
His works are done. His skill divine I ever shall adore,—
Nor lose remembrance of his name till life’s last day 1s o’er!” |
The benevolent founder of this excellent institution
sums np another quarterly report of his labonrs in the
following words :—-“ In this hasty report it 1s impossible
to convey to the mind of a stranger an adequate idea
of the interesting scenes of the past three months. To
do this, he need imagine an assembly averaging from
seventy-five to a hundred of the unfortunate in every:
rank. He need see the man or child lately groping in
darkness now rejoicing to behold the light ;—here the
fond mother, her countenance overcast with gloom at
the upprehension that a darling child must svon die,
presently wanting terms to express her joy as she
sees that child prattling around her, insensible to the
danger from which it has been rescued ;—and, again,
he should witness the gratitude of those whose pro-
tracted afflictions they had supposed would terminate
only with life, in a few days restored fo health ;—and
as he beholds considerable numbers who never again
can see the light, think of a still larger company, who,
but for the timely relief afforded, would have become
alike unfortunate.”
Dr. Parker is a clergyman of great piety; he makes
no parade of attempts at conversion, but allows Chris-
tian benevolence to work its own way. What may not
be expected from such a beginning as he has made!
It is not perhaps too much to say that no system of
exclusion could lone resist that acknowledgment of
the benefits of intercourse with strangers which Chinese
policy has always refused. It is well known that the
government in the last century greatly encouraged
learned foreigners who were eminent as mathematicians
and astronomers, to the extent of promoting them to
hich offices of state. ‘These gifted men were sent to
China as missionaries of religion; but though their
zeal did much, their actual utility went not far beyond
the government. They had little hold upon the people,
who saw them with indifference disgraced or dismissed
at the pleasure of the emperor. But with exertions
like those of Dr. Parker, the affections, as well as the
interest, of all men would be engaged; the influence
exerted would be felt in the homes of individuals; and
every family would be interested in lessening that
arrogant self-sufficiency which alone prevents the most
civilized nation of Asia from taking her proper place
among the nations of the world.
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
[Jury 8, 1837,
LINEAL DESCENT OF HER MAJESTY QUEEN VIC.
TORIA FROM WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR.
A.D
1066. Wilham I.
1100. Henry I.
— Matilda, Empress of Germany.
1154. Henry II,
1199. John
1216. Henry IIT.
1272. Edward I.
1307, Edward IT.
1327. Edward III.
— Lionel, Duke of Clarence.
— Philippa, Countess of March.
— Roger, Earl of March.
— Ann, Countess of Cambridge.
— Richard, Duke of York.
1461. Kdward IV.
—— lizabeth, Queen of Henry VII.
— Margaret, Queen of James IV. of Scotland.
— James V. of Scotland.
— Mary, Queen of Scots,
1603. James I. |
— Elizabeth, Queen of Bohemia.
— Sophia, Electress of Hanover.
1714. George I.
1727. George II. .
— Frederic, Prince of Wales.
1760. George IIT.
— Edward, Duke of Kent.
1837. VicrToria.
Mem. The Queen being twenty-seventh in regular
descent from the Conqueror, and at the same time
thirty-sixth sovereign in succession from the Conquest,
gives nearly twenty-nine years to a generation and
twenty-two years to a reign, in respect of the seven
hundred and seventy-one years which have elapsed
since that period. The commonly, received average is
thirty years to a generation and twenty years to a
reign; according to which it appears, that the cares or
luxuries, or both, of a crown, occasion a sacrifice to the
wearer of it of one year of life, as compared with ordi-
nary mortals. ‘ae |
. Character of the English for Truth.—Constant veracity
Is a virtue extremely rare in modern Egypt. . Falsehood was
commended by the prophet when it tended to reconcile per-
sons at variance with each other;' also, when practised in
order to please one’s wife; and to obtain any advantage in
a war with the enemies of the faith, though highly repro-
bated in other cases. This offers some ittle palliation of
the general practice of lying which prevails among the
modern Moos ‘lims; for, if people are allowed to lie in eer-
tain cases, they insensibly contract a habit of doing so in
others. Though most of the Egyptians often lie designedly,
they are seldom heard to retract an unintentional misstate-
ment without expressing themselves thus—‘‘ No, I beg
forgiveness of God” (La’ astugh ‘fir Alla’h) ; it was so and
so: as, in stating anything of which they are not quite
certain, they say, “God is all-knowing’ (Alla’hoo a‘alam).
I may here mention (and I do it with some feeling of
national pride) that, some years ago, there was an Arme-
nian jeweller in this city (Cairo) so noted for his veracity
that his acquaintances determined to give him some appel-
lation significant of his possessing a virtue so rare among
them; and the name they gave him was El-Ingilee’zee, or
the Englishman, which has become his family name. It is
common to hear tradesmen in this place, when demanding
a price which they do not mean to abate, say, ‘‘ One word,
the word of the English” (Kil’/met el-Ingilee’z): they
also often say, “the word of the Franks,” in this sense ;
but I have never heard any particular nation thus honour-
ably distinguished excepting the English and the Mugh’-
reb’ees, or Western Arabs, which latter people have acquired
this reputation by being rather more veracious than most
other Moos/lims.-—Lane’s Modern Egyptians.
—
~~
*,* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at
59, Lincoln’s Inn Fields.
LONDON: CHARLES KNIGHT & CO., 22, LUDGATE STREET,
Printed by WitL1AM CLowgs and Sons, Stamford Street,
THE PENNY MAGAZINE
OF
THE
society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledze.
39. J
PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY.
[Juty 15, 1837.
ANECDOTES OF BLACK AND GREY SQUIRRELS, AND THEIR COMPARATIVE
INSTINCT ILLUSTRATED.
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SQUIRRELS, as might naturally be supposed, are ex-
veedingly numerous in many of the aboriginal forests
of North America, so that squirrel-hunting is one of
the favourite and more refined species of sporting
amongst such as devote a day or two to “ hunting-
frolics” on particular occasions; not solely for the
sordid purposes of.gain, but partly as a recreation
from other and very different employments. Black
and grey squirrels are the most commonly sought
after; for, in addition to the fact of their being the
most abundant, they are greatly esteemed as an article
of food, and their skins are of more value than those
of any of the other sorts. A party of five or six
sportsmen will often kill 2000 or 3000 squirrels—of
various sorts—in a two or three days’ excursion; but
your regular Backwood’s bear and wolf-hunter rarely
condescends to make war upon this species of small
game. From all the experience I have had in the
forests of North America, I am decidedly of the opinion
that black squirrels are far more abundant than grey
ones, but why this is the case I have never been able |
to arrive at any satisfactory conclusion; for in their
general habits, and their partialities for those sections of
the country that produce some peculiar and favourite ; becoming convinced of the fact as before stated.
{Black and Grey Squirrels. ]
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since their size and strength are nearly equal, I can
see no good reason for the great disparity in point of
numbers. Both the black and grey squirrels are mi-
oratory and erratic in their habits; for at particular
seasons of the year some sections of the forests will
literally swarm with them, while at other times, in the
same situations, but a few solitary strage@lers may be
seen, leaping from branch to branch in the tops of the
tall forest-trees.
The foresight (or by whatever name that instinctive
peculiarity common to a large portion of the brute
creation may be designated); of the grey squirrel is
very remarkable; for although I have always been led
to consider it more shy and timid than either the black
or red ones which frequent the same localities,—yet
when a season of absolute famine has been approaching,
I have observed that it would run greater risks in com-
mitting little depredations upon the granary or corn-
crib than would either of the other species. In two or
three seasons, when there was an entire failure of beech-
nuts, chestnuts, and the other sorts of food that these
provident inhabitants of the wilderness chiefly subsist
upon during the long winters, ] had a a
n
food, there appears not the slightest difference; and| the farm where I resided there stood a barn and
Vou. VI.
2M
266
wranary within half a stone’s east of the bordering
primeval forest, im which was stored a quantity of
Indian corn, wheat, and other kinds of grain. Until
the autumn was advancing [ had scarcely seen a grey
squirrel in the neighbouring woods, but in the month
of October I observed a few of them paying occasional
visits to my barn and granary; and, not wishing my
erain to be stolen or destroyed with impunity, I shot
two or three of: the earliest intruders. On those occa-
sions [I invariably found them carrying off fifteen or
twenty grains of{ndian corn within the cavities of their
cheeks; and being provided with comparatively small
cheek-pouches wherein to stow away the pilfered pro-
perty, it showed to what inconvenience they would
subject themselves in order to procure a little stock as
the means of sustaining life through a long and rigorous
winter. Whether or not the few that had first visited
my premises had communicated the intelligence to their
tribe that my barn was stored with such food as they
might subsist upon during the approaching famine, of
course I have no means of knowing; however, by the
early part of November there were several scores of
them paying their daily respects to my corn-crib and
wheat-bin. A few red ones, and occasionally a black
one or two, would resort to the same scene of plunder ;
but I found that they were more intent upon making a
meal on the spot, than upon carrying away a necessary
supply for the approaching winter. At this time the
grey ones were so nuimerous, and audacious too, that
when I was not at leisure, or felt no inclination to
make war upon them with my gun, I had to place a
boy as a sentinel, to scare them back into the woods,
which he sometimes found great difficulty in effecting.
In the springs succeeding those seasons of famine I
found hardly any red or black squirrels in the adjoining
woods—they had evidently perished through absolute
want; while a number of the grey ones which had
been so fortunate as to escape my gun, and that
bad succeeded in laying in a winter's supply at my
expense, might be seen springing from branch to
branch, as agile and shy as they had been before the
approach of winter; and I could not help blaming my-
self for having denied a small and temporary pittance
to so many of my graceful, sagacious, and provident
nei@hbours.
Aithough apparently not well adapted for swimming,
yet both grey and black squirrels, in their migratory
excursions, will venture across lakes that are one or two
miles wide, as well as the largest of the American rivers.
In these adventurous exploits they. generally take ad-
vantage of a favourable breeze, in which case the wind
ucts upon their elevated tails, thereby rendering the
excursion both quicker and less laborious. In the latter
part of the summer I have frequently witnessed black
squirrels crossing the Niagara River in considerable
numbers; and I always remarked that they swam across
when the morning first began to dawn. On reaching
the opposite shore they would appear greatly fatigued,
and if unmolested would take a pretty long rest pre-
paratory to their setting off for the neighbouring woods,
whither they were apparently led by the wonderful
power of instinct.
In No. 226, page 393, vol. iv., of the ‘ Penny Ma-
gazine, there is an account of the small striped, or
eround squirrels, common to both the eastern and
western continents. It is there stated, that the ground
squirrels found in the northern parts of Europe and
Asia “climb trees with great facility, and make their
way from branch to brancli with great speed.” If this
statement be correct, it certainly does not apply to the
eommon ground squirrel of the British North American
colonies and the United States; for notwithstanding
that I have occasionally forced the Chitmuck (as the
ground squirrel is there commonly called, and not |
-
“~~
THE PENNY MAGAZINE
[Juxy 15,
Hackee) to seek refuge in climbing, T have never been
able to scare one far up a tree, for instead of ascending
to a considerable height, they would invariably dodge
to the opposite side of the stem; and instead of cong’
higher, in order to escape by leaping from branch to
branch, they would take the first opportunity of reach-
ing the ground—often thereby incurring imminent
danger,—-their sole reliance for escape apparently con-
sisting In burrowing in the first hole or crevice that
presented itself, and not in their capability of leaping,
like other squirrels, from tree to tree.
THE NEW FOREST.
So great is the antiquity of forests, that of those in
Inngland there are but two in respect to the origin of
which we are at all satisfactorily aided by public re-
cords—the New Forest, created or extended by Wil-
liam the Conqueror, and the ‘“ Honour of Hampton
Court,’ planted by Henry VIII. The New Forest
was anciently situated in that part of Hampshire which
is bounded on the east by Southampton River, on the
sonth by the British Channel, and on the west by the
river Avon; thus occupying the south-west extremity
of the county, and forming a kind of peninsula. After
the granting of the Charta de Foresta, the encroach-
meuts which the crown had previously made on the
confines of the original forest were abandoned, and the
New Forest becaine reduced to its modern limits, which
extend only from Godshill on the north-west, to the sea
on the south-east, being about twenty miles, and from
Hardley on the east, to Ringwood on the west, being
about fifteen miles, and which contain about 92,365
acres. It possesses advautages of situation, with re-
spect to the convenience of water-carriage and near-
ness to the dockyards, superior to every other forest,
having in its neighbourhood several ports and places
for shipping timber; amongst which, Lymington is
at the distance of only two miles, Bewley about half
a mile, and Redbridge three or four miles from the
forest; and the navigation to the great dockyard at
Portsmouth is only about thirty miles from the nearest
of those places. Its soil, which is in general a
sandy loam, is well adapted to the production of oak
timber; it is also one of the very few forests that has
in some degree retained traces of its ancient regal
consequence in its laws, courts, and officers. ‘The ex-
tent of its boundaries, the variety of its contents, and
the grandeur of its scenery, all combine to render it the
most important of Enelish forests.
This tract of land, although not entirely planted, was
originally made a forest by William the Conqueror,
A.D. L076, and the ‘ Domesday Book’ contains the most
precise account of its afforestation. It took its name of
New Forest, it is natural to suppose, from its being an
addition to the many forests which the crown already
possessed, the original name of the tract of country
being Ytene. ‘The means which were actually used by
the Conqueror in creating this forest are involved in
much doubt, and great difference of opinion prevails
on the subject. Nearly all our old and approved his-
torians and annalists concur in stating that William
destroyed a great number of villages and churches,
drove away the inhabitants, and laid waste a tract of
country of no less than thirty miles in circuit; and look
on the fact of two of his sons, and his grandson, having
lost their lives in this forest, as the judement of God
for his cruel and tyrannous proceedings. Walter Mapes,
who lived in the reign of Henry II., and was chaplain
to that king, says, “ The Conqueror took away land
from both God and man, to dedicate the same unto
wild beasts and dogs’ game, in which space he threw
down thirty-six churches, and drove all the people
1837.]
thereto belonging quite away.” In these assertions he
is*confirmed by most of‘his contemporary annalists, and
every writer of Iinglish history, from the eleventh cen-
tury to the commencement of the seventeenth, has
adopted them as facts; and the dreadful description
given of William's cruelties by many of them, scarcely
exceed the strong and figurative language used by
Pope in his ‘ Windsor Forest,’ when touching on the
subject. ‘The acute sense aud sceptical inclinations of
Voltaire rendered liiim the first writer who doubted the
probability of the facts thus unhesitatingly put forth,
which he did in his ‘ Abridgment of Universal History.’
Dr. Warton, in his ‘ Essay on the Writings and Genius
of Pope,’ concurred with Voltaire in opinion ; and since
that time the subject has been amply discussed. Pre-
bendary Gilpin, in his ‘ Remarks on Forest Scenery,’
has laboured in defence of the early writers, while
Warner, in his ‘ Collections for the History of Hamp-
shire,’ after bravely contending against the stream of
history, joins in pronouncing William’s acquittal. The
eeneral arguments in favour of the king are, that the
writers on whose authority the facts rest were monks,
all highly exasperated against him, and greatly offended
at the exactions he had inade on their monasteries ; that
the assertions of one annalist are frequently adopted by
many, who, either from want of inclination or talent,
do not pursue the proper means of extending their in-
quiries; that no particular «ra is marked by these
annalists (who are at other times precise in dates) at
which these cruelties took place; that there is no men-
{ion of them in the ‘ Saxon Chronicle,’ the author of
the latter part of which was indisputably contempora-
neous with William, and who viewed all his vices and
erimes with a severe eye; that the district being at that
time thinly peopled, it is unlikely that places of public
worship were so liberally scattered; and that it was not
necessary, notwithstanding its privileges, that a forest
should be depopulated: the forest laws being, both in
their original form and in their amended state, enacted
rather for restricting and punishing those who dwelt
within the limits of those scenes of royal diversion, than
for those who dwelt without them. ‘The district thus
afforested by William was greatly enlarged by Henry I.
as well as by succeeding princes, and remained in the
same state until, as has been already stated, the granting
of the Charta de Foresta by Henry III. By the peram-
bulations made from the reign of Edward [. to that of
Charles I1., the limits of the ferest appear to have been
of the same extent as at the present. The 92,365 acres
before mentioned do not, however, belong entirely to
the crown; the private property, coirsisting of manors
and freehold estates, situate within the forest is calcu-
lated to amount to 24,797 acres; copyholds held of
the crown manor of Lyndhurst are estimated at 625
acres; the leaseholds held of the crown at 387; and
about 1193 acres are enclosed lands held by the master
keepers: thus, strictly speaking, the present woods and
waste lands of the forest do not exceed 64,562 acres.
The New Forest is now divided into nine bailiwicks,
known by the names of North Baihwick, Fritham,
~ Godshill, Linwood, Burley, Brattamsley, South Baih-
wick, Inn Bailiwick, and East Bailiwick, which are
again subdivided into fifteen walls. ‘The chief officer
of the Forest is the lord warden, who is appointed by
letters patent under the Great Seal, during the’ king’s
pleasure; under him are a lieutenant, a bow-bearer,
two rangers, a2 woodward, an under-woodward, four
verderers, a high steward, an under-steward, twelve
regarders, nine foresters, and fifteen under-foresters.
Most of these appointments being connected with the
royal chase, are now cousidered rather as marks of
distinction than as offices of responsibility or business.
Besides these ancient officers there are two otliers,
principally concerned in what relates to the timber, and
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
267
of modern appointment, the purveyor of the navy for
this forest, and the surveyor-e@eneral of the woods and
forests. The latter appoints a deputy, whose duty is
to execute all warrants for felling timber for the navy,
or for the sale of wood and timber, or executing any
other works in the forest.
The only object of real importance now to the public
in the New Forest, is the increase and preservation of
the timber. As in every other of the great forests, the
quantity of timber in it has greatly decreased. This
fact is owing to the wasteful tendency of the system of
vwovernment under which it was formerly managed,
rather than any negligence on the part of the officers,
or encroachments or destructions committed by the
neighbouring inhabitants. ‘There are extant four dif-
ferent surveys taken at periods distant from each other,
by men of such character and situation as to admit of
no suspicion of unfairness or misrepresentation; the
first was taken in 1608, the second in 1707, the third
in 1764, and the last in 1783. By that of 1608 there
appears then to have been 197,405 loads of timber fit
for the navy; by that of 1707 only 19,873 loads ; in
1764, however, the quantity fit for that purpose had
increased to 36,662 loads; and in 1783 had again de-
creased to 19,827. The principal cause of the immense
quantity of timber in the year 1608 compared with the
other periods, is found in the great attention then
paid by government to the landed property of the
crown, it being the chief fund at the uncontrolled dis-
posal of royalty. This care seems to have continued
until the contests began between Charles I. and his
parliaments, during the continuance of which, trees in
almost every one of the royal forests were by one party
or the other disposed of or destroyed. After the resto-
ration, the scarcity and high price of naval timber,
torether with the writings of Evelyn, drew the attention
of government to the forests ; and in the 9th of Wil-
liam ITI. an act was passed for the encouragement of
the growth of timber in the New Forest. Had the
powers of this act been duly executed, instead of the
6000 acres now devoted to the growth of timber, it has
been calculated there ought to have been upwards of
24,000 acres. Of the quantity of timber which the
New Forest has of late years supplied to the navy, we
have no account; the annual average amount supplied
from 1761 to 1786 was 885 loads of oak, and of beech
about 270 loads, of the annual value of 3382/. Since
1792 the former defective system of management has
been much improved, if not entirely amended, and
doubtless the New Forest has now become what it
always ought to have been, a source of national defence,
by furnishing an abundant, instead of a very scarity
supply of timber for the navy.
‘The oaks of the New:Forest,’ says Mr. Gilpin in
his admirable remarks on ‘ Forest Scenery,’ °* seem to
have a character peculiar to themselves. ‘They seldom
rise into lofty stems, as oaks usually do in richer soils,
but their branches, which are more adapted to what the
ship-builders call knees and elbows, are commonly
twisted into the most picturesque forms. Besides, the
New Forest oak is not so much loaded with foliage as
the trees of a richer soil.” The New Forest also
abounds in beech, which grows to a large size. It lias
always been celebrated for its deer, both stag and
fallow deer, with which it once became so overstocked,
that in the year 1787 upwards of 300 of them are said
to have died in ‘one walk alone. The right of deer-
shooting is now confined to the lord warden and those
appointed by him; and the annual supply required by
that officer is sixty-four brace; a few of which are seut
to his majesty’s currier and the great officers of tie
crown, and the rest are distributed amongst those per-
sons to whom old customs lave assigned them. Gilpin,
‘in noticing the rapacity that eee itt
268
forests, mentions that not many years before the time
at which he wrote (1794), two men, father and son,
who succeeded each other in the office of underkeepers
of this forest, are supposed, during the course of sixty
or seventy years, to have committed waste, under pre-
tence of browsing deer, to the amount of 50,000/. ‘The
Forest borderers have a right to feed their hows in the
Forest during the pannage month, which commences
about the end of September, and lasts six weeks. ‘The
swineherds have a great facility in reducing a large
herd of these unmanageable brutes to perfect obedience
and good government. Formerly a diminutive breed
of horses ran wild in the Forest, and colt-hunting was
then a common practice: ‘This distinctive breed is still
preserved, although the horses have now in general
become private property. They are a strong, “useful,
hard-working race of animals, extremely sure of foot,
but are by no means remarkable for beauty, having
low croups, and heads ill set on, with what jockeys
call stiff jaws. During the close of the last century
ereat numbers of mules were bred in the Forest, chiefly
for exportation.
The scenery of the New Forest affords as preat a
variety of beautiful landscape, perhaps, as can be met
with in any part of England of similar extent. Its vast
sweeps of wild country, unlimited by artificial bound-
aries, are relieved by woody scenes and extended lawns,
interspersed with exquisite river views, and a distant but
magnificent sea-coast. The most interesting part of the
Forest, in a picturesque view, is that confined between
the Beaulieu River and the Bay of Southampton; the
water prospects are very grand, and the banks, both of
the river and bay, being richly decorated with woody
scenery, give them a peculiarly beautiful character. In
noble distances and grand forest scenes, the northern
division of this tract is the most striking.
The condition of the lower inhabitants and borderers
of the forest has improved much in a moral point of
view of late years. Of what they were only half a cen-
tury ago, the reader may form some idea by the follow-
ing account, taken from Mr. Gilpin’s work before men-
tioned :—‘* The many advantages which the borderers
on the Forest enjoy, such as rearing cattle and hogs,
obtaining fuel at an easy rate, and procuring little
patches of land for the trouble of enclosing it, would
add much, one would imagine, to the comfort aft their
lives ; but, in fact, it is otherwise: these advantages pro-
cure them not half the enjoyments of common day-
labourers. In general, they are an indolent race, poor,
and wretched in the extreme: instead of having the
regular return of a week’s labour to subsist on, too
many of them depend on the precarious supply of forest
pilfer. ‘Their ostensible business is, commonly, to cut
furze, and carry it to the neighbouring brick-kilns, for
which purpose they keep a team of two or three forest
horses ; while their collateral support is deer-stealing,
poaching, and purloining timber. In this last occupa-
tion they are said to have been so expert, that, in a
night’s time they would have cut down, carried off, and
safely lodged in the hands of some receiver, one of the
largest oaks of the forest; but the depredations which
have been made in timber along all the skirts of the
Forest have rendered this species of theft, at present,
but an unprofitable employment. In poaching and
deer-stealing they often find their best account, in all the
arts of which many of them are well practised. From
their earliest youth they learn to set the trap, and the
ein for hares and pheasants ;—to ensnare deer by hang-
ing crooks, baited with apples, from the boughs of
trees; and (as they become bolder proficients) to watch
the herd with fire-arms, and single out a ‘at buck, as
he passes the place of their concealment.”
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
[JuLy 15,
SKETCHES OF THE PENINSULA.—No. II.
LISBON.
Lispon, as indeed all the cities of the Peninsula,
abounds with convents and religious houses. These
edifices give an air of beauty and erandeur to places
which otherwise would be unworthy of notice; but in
Lisbon, where such fine opportunities occur, through
the inequalities of the ground, for placing buildings j in
prominent situations, they become objects of admiration,
whether we look on them in the mass, as adding to the
beautiful appearance of the city by their innumerable
towers and belfries, or whether we consider them singly
as works of art. ‘The great defect of public edifices in
England is the want of a proper point of sight; thus
our most celebrated buildings, such as St. Paul’s, can
be viewed only in detail, the effect as a whole being
entirely lost ; but in Lisbon sufficient space is wenerally
left to select a point from whence the entire building
may be seen at one view. Those in the heart of the
city have large squares in front, while those on the
heights generally stand in solitary grandeur. Amongst
the sacred edifices of Lisbon, the one represented in
our vignette is the largest, though perhaps not the
most beautiful in architectural design, being surpassed
by the Estrella (Chapel of the Stars). The church,
however, is a fine specimen of that peculiar species of
classic architecture which prevails so much in Portugal.
It consists of two square towers of three stories, each
story being ornamented with Doric pilasters; the upper
ones form the belfry, and are surmounted with octagonal
domes and lanterns: the centre, between the towers,
is divided into three compartments by pilasters of the
same order, the ground-floor having three gates of
exquisite workmanship, surmounted by niches and —
statues, while three windows occupy the spaces in the
upper story; and a magnificent flight of steps leads
up to the portal. It would be a vain task to attempt
a description of the interior, as every chapel would
require a separate account; so lavish have been the
founders of their wealth, and the architects so profuse
of ornament. The convent itself, which joins the church,
though not ugly, possesses few points worthy of remark.
The monastic houses of Portugal are al] built pretty
nearly on the same plan, and one description may serve
for all; they are squares of various shapes, some being
oblongs of various degrees, and some perfect squares :
a long passage runs completely round the bnilding on
the upper stories, on the outer side of which are the
dormitories or cells of the monks—small square apart-
ments, with a window looking outward. The lower
‘floor is occupied by the refectory, the kitchen, the dis-
pensario, aud other offices; while several large apart-
ments are left for social meeting or for council. ‘The
interior quadrangle is surrounded by a cloister, and the
centre is occupied by a garden and fountain.
The vows made by the inmates of these houses were
often curious and whimsical, and the means taken to
avoid an absolute breach ingenious. Thus the monks
of St. Vicenti, who were all nobles, had a vow not to
walk beyond the precincts of their convent: the conse-
quence was, that they invariably rode in carriages ; and
their immense wealth enabled them to keep the best
equipages in Lisbon. This convent was erected by
King John IIJ.; and it is worthy of remark that the
architect fell in the fatal expedition of Dom Sebas-
tian III., in the year 1577,
The next convent in size is that of ua Gracia, which
crowns the summit of a hill, forming a triangle with
the Castle and St. Vicenti, but is entirely destitute of
architectural beauty. Since the suppression of the
monastic orders in Portugal, this convent is converted
into a barrack, and is capable of quartering 5000 or
6000 men, when in perfect repair; but only one wing
1837]
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beime used, the rest is suffered to fall into decay, a great | eye, but enter not the bosom; and the hyiun poured
part being unroofed.
The Chapel of St. Roque, near the palace of the
Marquis Quintilla, is, perhaps, the richest of its size in
the world. The pillars to the altar are formed of one
piece of lapis-lazuli, and the pavement and walls are
Mosaics of the most exquisite workmanship, and of
inestimable value. It is said that when Junot, during
his occupation of the Portuguese capital, saw this chapel,
he conceived the design of conveying the Mosaics entire
to France; but the workmen, in the attempt to remove
them, having loosened some of the stones, “‘ Desist !”
said he; “it shall not be said that Junot was barbarous
enough to injure so beautiful a work of art.” ‘The
story does not accord with the rapacious character of
the French general, although the destruction of the
beautiful in art could call forth a tear even from a
Marius.
The Estrella, or Church of the Stars, stands on the
hill of Buenos Ayres. It is built in the Corinthian
order, and forms one of the most picturesque objects in
the city: it serves as the chapel to the convent of the
Heart of Jesus (Convento de Coracao de Jesus), and
from its proximity to the palace, and the frequent at-
tendance of the queen, is more generally known as the
Queen’s Chapel. The towers are exceedingly graceful
and beautiful, and the noble dome is a perfect model.
The portico is perhaps too small in proportion to the
building, and indeed a tradition is preserved, that the
architect perceiving this fault too late to rectify it, threw
himself from the aqueduct, the centre arch of which is
330 feet in height.
The convent of Necessidades is now occupied as the
royai palace: it is a plain unsightly building; nor has
the painting of the front of a red colour contributed to
increase its beauty.
After the magnificence, the grandeur, and the daz-
zline g@litter of the national churches, there is an un-
pretending simplicity in the chapel of the British factory
which touches the heart. ‘There we seem freed from
the burdensome pomps and pageants which dazzle the
mmm a ee a AE
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forth by the congregation seems to speak a language
of calm devotion which it is impossible to feel when
surrounded by the bustle which is constant in the
foreign churches. The burial-ground is tastefully ar-
ranged; thick rows of cypress trees cast their mournful
shadows over the quiet spot, and the rose and the lilly
may be seen blooming amidst the habitations of the
dead. Our immortal Fielding lies buried here; and
while each unknown son of Britain has his epitaph and
his sculptured tomb, there is not even a line to tell that
here lies the author of ‘Tom Jones. A monument
has been commenced, but that is all; the foundation
only is laid, and the body of one of our best authors
yet remains in a foreign land neglected and unknown.
YANKEE PEDLERS, AND PEDDLING IN
AMERICA.
Pepp1inG, as the application of the term is universally
applied to travelling traders in North America, is a
trade or calling by no means peculiar to that country,
or to be classed among the many novel pursuits and
customs of our trans-Atlantic brethren. It is rather an
old and somewhat exploded European custom revived,
the very nature of a new and rapidly growing country
favouring its general adoption; and as it apparently
accords with the tastes of the inhabitants, its success,
under those circumstances, cannot be looked on as at
all surprising. Not over fifty years ago, the more
secluded and rural districts of the north of England
were periodically visited by a few pedlers (mostly
Scotch), who carried long wooden packs, slung behind
their shoulders, containing a variety of light goods and
small wares; but of late years these have totally dis-
appeared ; and at the present time, keepers of small
shops in the secluded towns and villages furnish the
articles which used only to be had in the larger towns,
or from the ‘‘ pedlers.” .
The system of “ peddling” in America is not only
universally adopted, but it is carried on to a very con-
2710
siderable extent, and in various distinct and uncon-
nected lines of business. Although peddling is followed
throughout the whole range of the United States,
nearly the whole of the individuals engaged in it are
natives of the New England or Eastern States, whence
they are denominated ‘‘ Yankee Pedlers.”’ They are
mostly active, handsome young men, shrewd, witty,
intellivent, insinuating, and wheedling, but not always,
to make use of an Americanism, “‘ altogether downright
particular honest.” ‘This vocation is separated into
sundry branches; for besides general pedlers, who deal
in a great variety of Yankee notions (shop-goods), there
are tin-pedlers, clock-pedlers, chair-pedlers, pedlers of
spices, pedlers of essences, &c., each of them dealing
exclusively in the article implied by the appropriate
title. Sometimes the most cumbersome things are
peddled Chawked) through the country,—such for in-
stance as patent washing-machines, patent spinning-
machines, Indian corn shellers, and winnowinge ma-
chines; and dnring the summer you sometimes meet
a wageon-maker peddling a train of light pleasure-
waggons; or shonld snow be on the ground, you will
observe a few sleighs lashed together on a peddling
expedition throngh the country. Within the last twenty
years, that is, since so many canals have been opened,
a species of peddling has been introduced on many of
the canals. This is carried on in boats conveniently
fitted up for containing a variety of dry-goods, and other
‘ notions ;” and these floating ‘ stores,” or ‘‘ peddling-
boats,’ as they are commonly called, travel slowly
tnrough the country, and stop by the way wherever
there seems a probability of disposing of some of their
wares. But these floating establishments peddle by
wholesale as well asin the ordinary way, for many of
the small country store-keepers find it convenient to
replenish their reduced stock of goods by purchasing
for money—or more frequently by bartering such articles
as the neighbouring settlers may have supplied them
with, which the pedler either barters with some other
party, or else converts into cash when he returns to the
city for a new cargo of “notions.” This sort of traf-
ficking, which the Americans term peddling, interferes
very materially with the regular and more respect-
able store-keepers; for the pedlers being insinuating,
wheedline characters, dealing for the most part in goods
of an inferior description, and being birds of passage,
they find but little difficulty in selling or bartering: their
wares amongst the country-people, to the prejudice of
the regular store-keeper, caring but little for the cha-
racters they may leave behind them. But a pedler of
this description requires a mederate amount of capital
to commence business with; for in addition to his stock
of goods, he has to furnish a canal-boat fitted up in the
proper manner. Whereas those pedlers who deal only
in “* essences ” or “‘ spices”? can commence business on
a capital of ten or twenty dollars, since a dozen pint-
boltles of essences, and a tin-case to carry them in,
constitutes their whole stock in trade. ‘Those essences
wiich comprise peppermint, bergamot, evergreen,
spruce, &c., are much sought after in the back-woods ;
for while some of them are used under the name of
‘“ bitters,” and mixed with the very indifferent whiskey
of the country by such as can afford to do so, others are
considered sovereign remedies and antidotes for the
prevalent and incidental disorders of certain local dis-
tricts of the country. In the capacity of pedlers no
smal] portion of the young men who annually emigrate
to the I*ar-West from the Eastern States contrive to
realize their travelling expenses; for with a few “ es-
sences”’ or ‘*spices”—and not a few ‘ honied words
aud winning smiles,” for the benefit of the maids and
matrons of the settlements which nay fall in their route,
they seldom find much difficulty in bartering a small
quantity of their stock in trade for a dinner, or a supper
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
[Juny 15,
and bed, as the occasion may demand. ‘They also, who
peddle larger wares, and require a wageon, and one
or two horses, as the case may be, sometimes make
‘* peddling-trips” of 1200 or 1500 miles into the in-
terior of the country, selling and bartering as they pro-
ceed on their journey, and sometimes visiting large
towns in order to repienish such articles as may be
nearly exhausted. In this system of peddling a great
deal of business is transacted in the new countries;
and it very commonly happens that as soon as a pedler
has realized a sufficient capital to commence business
with as a store-keeper, having possessed such good
opportunities of judging of the advantages of the
various districts through which he has “ peddled,” he
fixes upon what he considers a favourable situation,
marries some girl that he has become acquainted with
in his travels, and commencing the business of store-
keeping, exchanges that somewhat dubious title of
‘““ pedler” for the more general and dignified one of
‘** merchant.”
Even the Americans themselves—possessine a re-
spectable share of self-esteem—do not estimate very
highly the characters of their own pedlers. This no
doubt is owing to the many ingenious frauds and de-
ceptions which some of them have from time to time
been detected in; and yet while it would be considered
a grave misdemeanour in any reeular tradesman who
should attempt the very same species of knavery, yet
when a pedler is detected in having sold you from the
stores of his spice-box wooden nutmegs instead of the
true and genuine East India article, instead of any
peculiar odiuin attaching to him for havine cheated
you, you get heartily laughed at for having suffered .
yourself to be thus imposed upon, while he escapes with
the fruits of his imposition, and the eweneral remark
that, ‘* I oness it was only a rerular Yankee pedler
gy
PRACTICAL APPLICATION OF PHYSIO-
LOGICAL FACTS.
M. QueTELeT, in his work ‘ Sur L’ Homme,’ makes the
following remarks as to the small number of observations
which have been made upon the progressive development
of the body :—‘‘ To show how little advancement has
been made in the study of the progressive development
of the human fraine, if 1t were required to establish the
age of an individual by the combined considerations of
his physical qualities, we should not be able to find
any scientific rules to @uide our determination, but
should be obliged to have recourse to the most un-
satisfactory empiricism.” A knowledge of minute facts,
some of which perhaps might happen to be regarded as
too insignificant for notice, is occasionally found to
afford the safest guide in a case of practical difficulty.
This has been proved in bringing into operation the
law relative to the employment of children in factories.
Under this law, children of a certain age work so many
honrs per week, and the employment of younger
children is altogether prohibited. But, observes Mr.
Leonard Horner, one of the Factory Inspectors, ‘*In
goine through the factories in different parts of my
district, I was particularly struck with the diminutive
size of many children who were working twelve hours,
and, on calling for their certificates, I found children
certified to have the ordinary strength and appearance
|of thirteen years of age, who were manifestly, to the
most common observation, not more than ten and
eleven.’ The fact was, that older children had been
presented to the surgeons under a false name, in order
to obtain a certificate which was to be made use of by
a younger child. Here the want of knowledge to
which M. Quetelet allndes rendered the action of thie
law defective, and the intentions of the legislature were
1837.]
defeated. In the absence of a faithful register of the
ages of children, it was necessary to take into con-
sideration the physical condition of each individual ;
but the growth and development of the body not
haying been sufficiently studied as a department of
scientific inquiry, no certainty could be felt as to the
accuracy of the laws to be derived from this source
until further experiment and observation had been made.
The development of the teeth might be taken as indi-
cative, to some extent, of the age of a child, but was
fallacious as an evidence of its bodily strength. ‘There
can, indeed, be no one invariable guide in the ques-
tion of age and strength taken together. Mr. Horner,
therefore, in adopting stature as an énztzatory step in
the inquiry, by no means regarded that point alone,
but its value as evidence was ‘‘snbject to modification
from other circumstances, such as breadth of chest,
muscular strength, and general healthy condition.”
Ii this manner, stature seems to be the best point from
which to start in determining the age of a child, and
ascertaining, in the absence of authentic registers of
age, whether the employment of such child in a factory
would be in accordance with the law. ‘To take stature
as the index standard may also be considered as the
fairest with reference both to the children and mill-
owners, as, being more certain, it prevents disputes,
and a child excluded from one factory on account of
being under a certain size, cannot be taken into
another on some less intelligible ground. It was
necessary, however, to obtain this standard by a series
of observations and experiments made by the medical
Inspectors in the factory districts, as none had _ pre-
viously. been made snfficiently extensive for the pur-
pose. Mr. Horner therefore instituted an inquiry as
to the stature of children by an extensive number of
individual measurements. ‘The children were selected
both in the large towns, in those of a secondary class,
and in the rural districts, and though belonging to the
working classes, they were not exclusively employed in
factories. None but children whose real ages could be
ascertained with tolerable certainty were measured, and
also those who did not appear to be in a good state of
health were excluded. The result of the inquiry was,
that Mr. Horner received from seventy-two surgeons
the measurement of 16,402 children, viz., 8469 males
and 7933 females, between the ages of eight and
fourteen inclusive, who resided in the district com-
prising Manchester, Bolton, Stockport, Preston, Leeds,
Halifax, Rochdale, Huddersfield, Skipton, and the ad-
jacent rnral districts. Many factories being situated in
the vicinity of the smaller towns, the persons employed
i them partake of the character of a rural population,
perhaps nearly equally with those who work in a
country factory. -
The following table is an abridgment of a much
more extensive one, constructed by Mr. Horner; and it
shows the average stature of children of each sex at
various ages, and also the average stature of children
without distinction of sex. ‘The total number of each
age who were measured is given; but Mr. Horner's
table also specifies whether they belong to a large or
secondary town, or to a rural district :-—
Average height of
No, of Children Average Males and Females
Years of Age, measured, height. taken together.
Fa Im Ft. In.
From 8 . to . 83% 327 males 3 £ 9 Ol
3” by 267 females 3 Si 4
» Ss and under 9 339 males 3 11 3 103
” 9 272 females 3 103 4
» 9 andunder 94 527 males om 118 9 1]2
9 ” 433 tem@less 3 iii ¢ 2
» 9 andunder 10 418 males 4 01 fe
9 ” 379 females 4 0. </-
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
Average heizht of
No. of Children
Years of Age. measured, height. taken together, -
F4. “tie ‘ In,
From 10 and under 105 574 males 4] a
% é, 006 females 4 1 ”
», 105 and under ll 550 males a as 4 13
9 56 421 females 4 18 4
» land under 114 664 males ei” wid er
33 93 audahe females dj ya ec
- 4, IlSandunder 12 559 males 4 3, en ae
49 ” 478 females 4 34 Nas
3 12and under 125 767 males 4 33 ye 6
43 99 jee feinales 4 SF
» 123 and under 13 660 males 4 41 mys
- 459 9 ‘618 females 4 43 3
» J3 and under 134 1269 males 4 5! pry
99 a 1260 females. 4 5£ r
» 135 and under 14 864 males 4 63 4 G8
” 9 980 females 4 63 eo
al aan: ie Oo) males A 7 40°73
99 sa 1029 females 4 8 . 8
The average stature of young persons from fourteen to
eighteen is taken from a separate return comninnicated
to Mr. Horner by Mr. Harrison, a surgeon of Pres-
ton :=—
No. of Children Averaye Average height of Males
Years of Age. measured. height. and Females together,
™. In. ete Atl
From 14 to 1d 117 males 4 8} 4 83
™ 140 females 4 9 i +
15 to 16 82 males 4 10!
7 os 106 females 4 103 i ie aatl
16 to 17 43 males 5 02
‘ ¥ 90 females 4 114 me Or
me 17 to IS 47 males 9 «0 5 0)
112 females 5 0 ane
39
The above table is not founded on so Jarge a series
of measnrements as the one previously ¢iven; but it
embraces upwards of 760 individuals, and, in the
absence of more extensive observations, it is not un-
deserving’ of attention. ‘There seems to have been no
increase of stature from the period between sixteen and
seventeen and that between seventeen and eighteen
years; and in two instances the average height of
females exceeds that of males. From the age of twelve
and a half to fourteen, it appears, from the first table,
that this is the usual course, the females in each half-
yearly period being taller of stature than the males.
If the average weight had been taken in every case,
the return would have been still more valuable and in-
teresting, and might have been available as an addi-
tional cheek; for as stature alone cannot be depended
upon as evidence of physical power, and indeed may be
a proof, and the cause also, of weakness of body,—yet
stature and weight combined would be tests almost as
unerring’ as a personal examination ; and when they
were taken without dispensing with such examination,
the attempts at fraud in parents, who, by false certifi-
cates of age, endeavour to get their children into the
factories at an age not permitted by the law, would be
impossible, and, in nearly every case, could be discover-
able by the simplest means. Even without taking the
weight into consideration, the factory inspectors are
enabled to frame a rule which has been found satisfac-
tory for practical purposes by all parties, especially as it
is also founded on the general condition and state ot
health of each child applying for factory work.
child be three feet eleven inches in height, it may be
assumed that it is nine years of age, and a certificate
is given for permission to work in the factory, subject
to the restrictions of the Factory Act; and if it be of
the height of four feet five inches, a less restricted cer-
tificate may then be granted.
While upon this subject, we take the opportunity of
‘appending the following facts, from “La Statistique,
Average Males and Females
If ae
\
Bi2
Journal des Faits,’ a new periodical, published monthly
in Paris :—
‘<The average height of Europeans at birth is gene-
rally 19 inches; female children being: of less size im
the proportion of 482 to 498. In each of the twelve
years after birth, one-twelfth is added to the stature
each year. Between the ages of 12 and 20, the growth
of the body proceeds much more slowly; and between
the ages of 20 and 25, when the height of the body
usnally attains its maximum, it is still further diminished.
This point being reached, it is found that the increase .
in height is about 34 times @reater than at the period
of birth. In old age, the height of the body decreases
on the average about 3 inches. In general, the height
varies less in women of different countries than in men.
There is a difference in the weeght of the sexes both
at birth and during infancy. ‘The average weight of a
male child at birth is about 7 lbs., and of a female child
only about 64 Ibs.* ‘The weight of a new-born infant
decreases for the first three or four days after birth, and
it does not sensibly commence to gain weight until it
is a week old. At the end of the first year the cluld ts
nearly three times as heavy as ‘when it was born. At
the age of seven years it is twice as heavy as at the
end of the first year, and at fourteen years old its
weight is quadrupled. ‘The average weight of each
sex is nearly the same-at the age of twelve, but after
that period, taking individuals of the same age, the
females will be found to weigh less than males. When
the weight of the body has reached its average maxi-
mum, it is about nineteen times heavier than at the time
ofbirth. The average weight of men is about 130 Ibs.,
and of women: about 112 lbs.; of adults, without dis-
tinction of sex, about 120 Ibs. In the case of individuals
of both sexes who are under the height of 4 feet 4
inches, females are somewhat heavier than men; but if
above this height, men weigh more than women. Men
attain their maximum weieht about the age of forty,
and women at or near the age of fifty. At the age of
sixty both the one and the other usually commence
losing their weight, and the average weight of old per-
sons of either sex is nearly the same as at nineteen
years of age.
One cause which limits the cultivation of the mental
powers, 1s the total absence of religous dissent in the country
(Norway). <A difference of opinion upon religious doc-
trines among a people, is a most powerful stimulus to
the human mind to investigate, to obtain knowledge, to
exert the mental powers. The spirit of religious contro-
versy adds nothing certainly to their domestic happiness,
but much to their intelligence, acuteness, desire for educa-
tion, and value for religion. Scotland and England, with-
out their seceders and dissenters, would have been countries
in which the human mind slumbered. A land of universal
conformity is necessarily one of universal apathy as to reli-
gious matters, or else of gross superstition.’ It is to expect
effect without cause, to expect zeal or enlightened belief
without inquiry and opposition, and the collision of mind
against mind. There is something of this apathy and of
this superstition observable in Norway; there is no stimulus
awakening men from the passive state of mind produced by
uninquiring conformity. Those who maintain that a nation
should have but one religious code fixed by law, to the ex-
clusion of all dissent, should look round and see whether
there is a sound and true sense of religion in those coun-
ries, whether Catholic or Protestant, where the public mind
has remained in this state. ‘ If ignorance be bliss,” it has
been said, “ ’tis folly to be wise.” It is this bliss and this
wisdom which universal conformity to the doctrines of an
established church, either in a nation or parish, will pro-
duce.’—Laing’s Norway.
* It is stated in Dulaure’s ‘ Paris,’ that all children received
at the Foundling Hospital are weighed; and that if a new-born
infant weighs less than 6 lbs., there is little hope of rearing it.
THE PENNY MAGAZINE
[Jury 17, 1837.
Recreation.—Make thy recreation servant to thy busi-
ness, lest thou become slave to thy recreation. When thou
goest up into the mountain, leave this servant in the valley;
when thou goest to the city, leave him in the suburbs; and
remember, the servant must not be greater than his master.
—Quuarles.
Tue lessons of adversity are often the most benignant
when they seem the most severe. The depression of vanity
sometimes ennobles the feeling. ‘The mind which does not
wholly sink under misfortune, rises above it more lofty than
before, and is strengthened by affliction—Chenev7a.
A good Name.—Who shall pretend to calculate the value
of the inheritance of a good name? Its benefit is often
great when dependent on no stronger ties than those which
accident or relationship have created; but when it flows
from friendships which have been consecrated by piety and
learning, when it is the willing offering of kindred minds
to departed worth or genius, it takes a higher character,
and is not less honourable to those who receive than to
those who confer it. It comes generally from the best
sources, and is directed to the best ends; and it carries
with it an influence which powerfully disposes all worthy
persons to co-operate in its views. Nor is this all. The
consciousness of the source from which it springs is wont to
stimulate the exertions and to elevate the views of those
who are the objects of it; and many instances might be
enumerated of persons who have laid the foundation of the
very highest fortunes upon no other ground than that whieh
this goodly inheritance has supplied.— Bishop Otter.
- Manufactures 1n the Pyrenees.—1- mentioned that the
inhabitants of the valley of Carol employed themselves
during the winter in making stockings. This manufacture
has existed for many generations in the valley, and has
greatly conduced to the comfort and welfare of its inhabit-
ants. There are, upwards of '30,000 dozens of pairs ex-
ported annually, and the demand for them is constantly on
the increase. They are sent to Bordeaux, Toulouse, and
all parts of France. ‘The wool made use of is Spanish, and
the: stockings vary in price from ten to’ forty sons a pair,
and are all knitted. My, companion bought up all those
which were intended for the Bordeaux market, and was on
his way there to obtain orders. I asked him if, supposing
the valley could produce double the amount of pairs which
it did, he thought they could find sale for them; and he
told me that ten ‘times the number produced could be dis-
posed of to advantage; that all the peasantry throughout
the interior were glad to obtain them, and that at the fair of
Bordeaux alone he could sell to the amount of the present
supply. Why then did they not establish the manufac-
turing of the stockings by machinery ?—‘ Because we are
not permitted to build a manufactory. Government will
not allow the inhabitants within a certain distance of the
frontier to erect machinery for commercial purposes; and
although the southern districts have complained of this
creat hardship over and over again to the chamber of
deputies, by means of their representatives, whom they
have latterly elected solely upon condition that they shouid
exert. their influence to obtain for them the removal of this
grievance, they have never yet been able to succeed in their
endeavour; and we are obliged to go on in our old way,
when, by having justice bestowed upon us, our districts
would become the most flourishing in France.” This is
but a solitary instance of the internal misgovernment of
France, particularly as regards her commercial laws, many
of which are of the greatest detriment to her interests, and
must ever prevent her becoming a great commercial nation.
— Summer in the Pyrenees.
*,* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at
59, Lincoln’s Inn Fields.
LONDON: CHARLES KNIGHT & CO., 22, LUDGATE STREET. |
Printed by Wittram Crowes and Sons, Stamford Street.
THE PENNY MAGAZINE
OF THE
society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge.
d40. J
PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. [J uty 22, 1837,
SKETCHES OF THE PENINSULA.—No. III.
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[Praga do Commercio, Lisbon. }
Tux contrasts which Lisbon presents are very striking :
viewed . as it rears itself amphitheatrically on the right
bank of the Tajo or Fagus, extending from east to
west, from Xabeeras to Belem, about seven leagues,
and about three in breadth from south to north, it is
no less imposing than captivating; while many parts
of the interior of the city—in fact nearly all that portion
which escaped the dreadful earthquake of 1755—are
absolutely repulsive, being no better than a labyrinth
of narrow, crooked, filthy streets,—a chaos of habita-
tions gloomy and dismal to the eye, and unhealthy for
their occupants. In the new town, on the contrary,
which is daily enlarging itself, the principal streets are
wide and long, many of them quite straight, and all inter-
sected by lesser streets or lanes called traviesas. ‘The
houses, too; have a‘certain cheerfulness of aspect ; the
very reverse of the murkiness that ‘characterises those
of the old city. They are generally from three to five
stories in height, and several have gardens attached to
them. Yet, although the streets themselves are kept
tolerably clean, they are, for the most part, unpaved,
with the exception of trottoirs, alone the sides.
Although it may be asserted that, with the exception
of the celebrated aqueduct, Lisbon does not possess 2
single building that will bear the test of critical ex-
Vou, VI.
amination, or that can be reckoned a really fine piece of
architecture, there are many which are stnkine enough
in regard to decoration, and some which exhibit several
beautiful parts. Of the 250 churches which this city
boasts, the principal are the Patriarchal Church or Ca-
thedral, called also the Se, and Santa Maria, a modern
edifice, which, notwithstanding its vast size, has an air
of melancholy rather than of solemnity or grandeur ;
the church da Roia,. remarkable for the magnificent
chapel of San Joao Bautesta, which John IV. caused
to be fabricated at Rome, and afterwards conveyed to
Lisbon as a present to the Jesuits; that. called Do
Cordcao de Jesus, the largest and most splendid pile of
any erected since the great earthquake, and which is
crowned with a dome that in regard to its construction
may be pronounced a work of surprising hardihood.
This edifice serves also as the mausoleum of.its foundress
Queen Maria I., the same who commenced the palace
of Ajuda. —
The convents, formerly so numerous, are now all of
them suppressed, and their spacious and magnificent
buildings have either been converted to other purposes,
or stand empty; that, for instance, called Necessidades,
is now the residence of the Queen, and In that of San
Bento, the Cortes now hold their sittings. Amoug thie
2N
ta
274
public buildings of this capital, the aqueduct Agoas-
livres -is incontestably the finest,—one of the noblest
productions of modern architecture in all Enrope, and
one that may fairly challenge anything of the kind
achieved by the ancients. Notwithstanding its being
yet incomplete, and moreover displaying many defects,
Ajnda is an imposing architectural ptle—one of the
finest royal palaces anywhere to be seen, and possesses
besides a nobleness of site and prospect which hardly
any other can boast of.
We would fain attempt to convey some idea of the
stir and bustle in the streets of this extensive, beautiful,
and yet, it must be added, somewhat gloomy city. The
last epithet is undoubtedly rather strongly contradictory
to that which precedes it, and by no means very prepos-
sessing; nevertheless its general aspect, with its masses
of dingy grey buildings piled up on hills, and towers
rearing their heads among them, and intermixed with
numerous ruins of churches and private houses—ranges
of bare and windowless walls—cannot fail to impress
every stranger with a feeling of melancholy. Yet is
the city itself surrounded by nature in all its freshness
and luxuriance—is canopied by a joyous sky of azure—
is laved by the green waves of the stream that flows up
against its walls. Lisbon shows itself to the imagina-
tion as an elderly matron who has seated herself in a
earden of roses, where she meditates on her gay youth-
time, when all the world contended for her smiles;
perhaps, too, gives a thought to her children, who, far
away from her, have established homes for themselves
beyond the ocean, leaving their parent lonely and de-
serted. Is not such in fact the present condition of
Lisbon? Severed from her by the Atlantic, Brasilia is
now estranged also from her interests, which no longer
touch that western country; and Africa—the bare re-
collection of Africa awakens only sorrow, shame, and
despondency.
Strange is the mingled feeling of delight and discust
with which one wanders through its swarming streets.
When the boat from which we landed first touched the
steps leading up from the Tajo to the Praca do Com-
mercio, our bosoms beat with joyous anticipations. A
crowd of sunburnt, swarthy figures, with naked feet
and arms, and many of them with sufficiently ferocious
visages, immediately surrounded us, boisterously pro-
ferring services we did not need. ‘These were Bar-
queiros and Gallejos, of whom Lisbon contains about
20,000, and who generally play a leading part in every
political ferment or popular excitement. Such as
happen to be unemployed may be seen basking in the
sun, either stretched upon the ground or lolling on the
steps and balustrades along the river, accompanied by
their wives and children, who, like themselves, are
sleeping or eating, or else purifying their persons,
although not after the fashion of Mohammedan ablu-
tion.
The Praca itself is a noble square, but it appears
siigular in the eyes of a native of the north that it
should be suffered to become the haunt and rendezvous
of the lowest part of the population, who seem to pnt
no restraint upon their behaviour in any one respect,
but act just as their inclinations prompt them, indif-
ferent whether their actions seem decent or otherwise
in the eyes of any one else; in fact, little better than
in a state of nature. Neither in Berlin, nor any
other German city, would such things be tolerated as
here pass for matters of course; in none is such an
eqnipage to be seen as that cart-like vehicle, drawn
by asses, which its owner seems to consider part of
his dignity. Then, again, what hideous waggons with
oxen yoked to them; what swarms of Moors and
negroes; were they indeed but decently covered—but
they are half, or more than half, naked. What re-
THE PENNY, MAGAZINE.
[JuLy 22,
puisive figures, too, are the women one beholds here
collected; not merely devoid of all feminine charms,
but many of them with mustachios calculated to inspire
in our military gallants no tenderer passion than that
of envy. In one place may be seen, squatting round
a fire like so many Hottentots, a group of ragged,
stockingless boys, who are occupied in roasting some
kind of animal unheard of in the annals of gastronomy.
Perched on the shoulders of one of the party sits another
epicure, to wit, a monkey, who is busily engaged in ex-
ploring the lad’s unkempt head for game, of which he
doubtless finds abundance; a little further on, passes
by a two-wheeled bier, or litter for the dead, dragged
by mules; this is succeeded by a procession of priests,
attired in red robes; and to make up the moving
motley scene, we see ladies in veils, pacing by with
stately steps, attended by a negro; sailors of all nations
and complexions, from the jet-black African to the
white-hned Dane; beggars of the most loathsome ap-
pearance, and smart, fashionably-dressed gentlemen,
all intermingled in the strangest manner. |
Further on, before the portal of an extensive building,
we behold soldiers; and the sight of regular military
inspires a certain feeling of safety in the midst of this
tumultuous scene. Jt is the barracks of the marines,
and a number of the men—all in good uniforms—are
sitting, standing, or lying on the ground around the
entrance, smoking their cigars. Among them were,
as we perceived on a closer inspection, many handsome
and well formed, though sunburnt, countenances; and
also several negroes, who cut a strange figure in their
uniforms. Close behind us we hear the tinkling of a
bell, and turning our heads behold a black seated in a
small cart drawn by two sheep. The owner of this
singular equipage was dressed in a blue jacket, very
full of buttons—for which it appears the Portneuese
have a particular affection,—and displayed, not only a
white shirt, bnt very deep ruffles. As soon as he saw
that he had caught our attention, he held out his hat
with a very gracious smile, nor was it till then that we
discovered him to be a beggar who had lost both his
legs.
‘Agoa! agoa!’ is the cry incessantly kept up by the
water-venders; and a most lugubrious ery it is; yet
are the voices which utter it, deep, sonorous, and not
unharmonious, although certainly too elegiac. The
hawkers of fish and poultry employ, on the contrary, if
not a much more agreeable, a livelier tone ; less poetical
perhaps, but not altogether so dismal. Besides these.
vocal itinerant dealers, who invite custom by exercising
their lungs, there are others, who carry on their trade
less noisily ; and to say the truth, the oranges, lemons,
fies, majos, roses, and other flowers, with which that
long cavaleade of mules and asses is laden, require not
to be heralded by sound of voice, since both the sieht
and the scent from so delicious a freightage recommend
it sufficiently to notice.
Nothing is more comnion than to see cows milked at
the doors of palaces, and innumerable hens, with their
chickens, running about the streets,—to say nothing of
the swarms of dogs. In London, both the bipeds and
the quadrupeds just mentioned would soon be crushed
to pieces by the vehicles which roll along the pavement ;
whereas here they incur no such risk. The creaking
and grating noise of a cart drawn by oxen, whose
wheels are never greased until they threaten to catch
fire, may be heard at half a mile’s distance; as may
likewise the jingling bells of a team of mules; and as
for cabriolets and other carriages, they drive at a very
slow pace. On the other hand, there are more persons
to be seen mounted on horseback than in almost any
city in the world; not, indeed, exactly on horseback
either, the quadrupeds being generally mules or asses.
1837.] THE PENNY MAGAZINE, 275
In the Rua d’Auro, one of the handsomest streets, | structed of bundles of dry rushes—lake fishermen in
by-the-by, in all Lisbon, and that which leads to the | parts of South America. A long period probably
Se or Cathedral, I beheld a most singular—I might | elapsed ere the invention of the oar or paddle, for the
say horrible—procession, namely, of malefactors be- purpose of moving wp the stream, induced the river
longing to the extensive prison called Lamociro, who | travellers to construct, first a raft, and then a canoe,
are in this manner conducted abroad at stated seasons | which might be worth preserving as a property of con-
for an airing, attended by a military guard. ‘Their } stant utility. But this was a mode of locomotion con«
appearance was that of demons rather than of human | fined to a limited space. Vehicular conveyance by land
beings, nor can anything equal either their disgusting } was the most important desideratum.
squalidity, or their no less disgusting atrocity of ex- “The first and most simple form of it would natu-
pression. ‘The rattling of their chains, and the wild] rally be a land-raft or sledge, which, if not heavily
howl and gestures with which they extended forth their] loaded, would move in favourable localities with cons}-
hands to passengers for alms, had something in them] derable facility, as over dried grass, or green turf, or ice,
quite appalling; even now it. can hardly be reflected} or on the surface of hardened snow. In the northern
on without a shudder. By way of making an end of| countries both of Europe. and America the sledge is
this catalogue of the various disagreeable sights one} constantly used upon the snow at the present day; for
is compelled to encounter in the streets of Lisbon, we | which purpose it is better adapted than wheel vehicles,
may mention the number of dogs without owners that} the great length of the two bearers preventing them
roam wild about the streets, prowling for food, andj from sinking in the snow as wheels would do. In the
picking up what they can—often feeding on the most} island of Madeira the heavy pipes of wine are drawn on
nauseous matter. Many of these wretched animals] sledges froin the mountain vineyards to the seaports 5
have no hair on their hides, and are covered with boils j and part of the driver’s business is to walk by the side
and blotches, or otherwise shoekingly disfigured by} of them with a kind of mop, to keep the surface of the
disease. Whiat the condition of the streets, therefore, } bare rock on which they ran constantly wetted, to dimi-
must be may be easily imagined; and yet they are not! nish the friction. Another instance is the sledge used
in so abominable a state as formerly. Not many years} by the London brewers, and drawn by a single horse,
ago it was the custom to make them the general recep-j to convey barrels of lieht weight. But it is evident
tacle for dirt and filth of all kinds; but this has been; that, except under peculiar circumstances, the friction
put a stop to by the present government, and dirt-carts | of sledges is so great as to cause a great loss of animal
go about with bells apprizing the inhabitants of their! power; and, therefore, better vehicles must have been
approach. At first it was very difficult to make the} objects of desire at a very early period. In mountain-
good folks of Lisbon comply with this arbitrary inno-j ous countries sledges could scarcely be used except
vation, but they seem now to be tolerably well recon-} down hills; and accordingly, in mountainous countries
ciled to it. the next stage of improvement must have been first
Having thus dwelt on the shadows of the picture, ; adopted.”
we are in all fairness bound to point out its lights and Lhe preceding paragraphs have been taken from the
its particular beauties. What lends Lisbon no ordi-j Introduction to ‘ English Pleasure Carriages; their
nary interest and attraction is the life and activity} Origin, History, Varieties, Materials, Capabilities, &c.,’
everywhere to he seen, and in which the natives of so} by William Bridges Adams, Esq., a work just pub-
many different lands bear their parts. And what pros-| lished. In this introduction to an interesting book
pect »f the kind can be more noble and imposing than} Mr. Adams traces what he considers to have been the
that of the majestic Tajo, with its thousands of vessels, | progress of the formation of primitive carriages. First,
as beheld from the Praga do Commercia, from that do; the sledge was lifted from the ground, on which it had
Romulares, or from the Caes do Sodre? We question} been drawn by horses or oxen, and suspended from
whether any other city in the world can afford one j the backs of two or four of them by means of pack-
equally fine. ‘Phe shops, again, with the luxuriant | saddles and lashings. In Spain and Portugal this rude
display they make of oranges and other fruits of the j vehicle is still to be found, under the form of the litera
south, and rich flowers, impart to the streets an air of | or litter; which is, in fact, a sedan-chair borne by two
joyousness and abundance that is absolutely cheering. | mules, one before and one behind, the poles being slung
The monks, it is true, have disappeared; they formerly ; to their pack-saddles. In England this sedan-chair is,
swarmed in the streets, and now not a single one is to; or rather was, borne by men. In the East, the form
be seen in all Lisbon. In them the city has lost a} ranges from a chair to the more luxurious one:of a
very striking class among its population; yet it still} couch, and under the name of a palanquin it. consti-
retains much that impresses a stranger as being alto-} tutes the principal vehicular conveyance of the rich,
gether dissimilar from that to which he has been accus- } being borne by olive-complexioned men, more capable
tomed. of endurance than quadrupeds in an enervating cli-
[The preceding general sketch of the Portuguese capital is bs But the litter and the Si en were alike im-
derived: from the narrative of a recent anonymous German tra- perfect, Inasmuch as they consumed a large amount of
veller, whosé pen has portrayed the leading characteristics of the ; animal power for very little effect, the whole weight of
city aud its inhabitants. The descriptions of the particular sub- | the passenger and the vehicle also having to be borne
jects of the engravings have been, and will be, supplied by a as well as moved alone.
correspondent who has resided at or visited the places. | Having obtained the rude idea of a wheel and axle,
it would be a very simple process to round the axle
cross-beam, and place a frame on it capable of: carrying
PRIMITIVE CARRIAGES. burdens; the axle being confined to perform its revo-
Tue first attempt at vehicular locomotion must neces- lutions at or near the centre of gravity of the frame, by
EE: CET IE
sarily have been imperfect. Human beings residing | thole-piis or guides similar to the rowlocks of a boat.
on the banks of large rivers would naturally observe {| The form of*the frame would be a central pole or beam,
the facility wherewith trees and other vegetable pro- | sufficiently long to bear the bulk or volume of the load,
ductions floated on the surface, moving with the down- { and also.to project forward between the two draught
ward current. After this, the construction of a rude } horses or oxen. Parallel with the central beain would |
raft wonld be an easy transition. At the present day | be ranged two side bearers, and these would be con-
there exist people who go out fishing on rafts con- | nected together by cross framings or diagonal braces,
: 2IN 2
276
This would then be a car or cart, the s
form of a wheel-carniage.
gu
er Seas
adie 3 ¢
Ja Oy Ts enn 4
rs! ont * KY
+ REP Ly) v8
RR
i ae. ee SD OR 409
atte os? @ 6 OO ry
RR SNES *
yy Le
sid SEK ae
[Car of Portugal. ] °
But it would soon be discovered that a cart thus
constructed runs best in a straight line; and that to
turn it in a circle, unless it be a circle of very large
size, causes an immense quantity of friction. The
reason of this is, that, in the act of turning, one wheel
has a tendency to revolve faster than another, the outer
track being longer than the inner one. To obviate this
difficulty, the cart-maker or driver would soon contrive
that each wheel should revolve on its own centre.
Instead of fixing the cross-beam or axle in a square
hole, they would contrive it to play easily in a round
one of a conical form, that being the easiest form for
adjustment. The principle of this cart would be pre-
cisely that of the antique cars used by the Greeks and
Romans for the purposes of war and festivity, the
battle, the triumph, and the Olympic games; the only
distinction being in the absence or presence of orna-
mental work, and the general superiority or inferiority
of the construction, or rather workmanship. ‘The rude
carts used by the poor peasantry of Chile for their
agricultural purposes in remote districts are constructed
in the manner above described.
’ yy ee
[Car of Chile. ]
Tt is evident that a machine made in the rude manner
described could not be well adapted for very rapid
motion, without a great expenditure of animal power,
especially if it were loaded. The axle, being of wood,
must necessarily be of considerable size; and working
in wood also, a rapid motion would cause so much
friction, that it would soon be cut through, even though
the hardest woods might be sought, and lubricating
substances applied. ‘The wheels, procured at an ex-
pense of much labour, would quickly become useless ;
large-sized trees would, become scarcer; and reducing
the size of the wheels would increase the friction,
already too great. To provide a remedy for this would
be the next task of invention. |
The ox-carts of the Pampas, which form the trading
caravans of the great steppes of Spanish America, are
quaintly termed by the natives, barcos de trerra, i. e.,
‘“‘land-ships,” inasmuch as they ply for freight, and
carry provisions and water with them over the deserts.
Their height is about seven feet, in order to lessen the
draught as much as possible, and also to enable them
to cross the deep streams and gullies. On the frame
of the cart a wattling of sticks is erected, six feet in
height, and arched at the top, the sides being thatched |
wts
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
[JuLy 22,
simplest possible with rushes, and the roof covered with untanned hides.
Not a particle of metal is used in its composition. -
i aaa UAT
COAT ii ml a ni
HA TITTY i pote Wt
ME wi ae a
AN
+
[ Ox-cart of the Pannell
Amongst the settlers of Upper Canada and the in-
land portion of the United States, are to be found the
rudest four-wheeled vehicles used by civilized people.
They are called waggons, and consist of an oblong
packing-case of rough planks, beneath which the wheels
are attached, the fore-wheels being contrived to turn or
lock very slightly. They are used with one or two
horses, whether for farm or other purposes. When
used as a personal conveyance, a simple contrivance is
resorted to to lessen concussion. A kind of framed
chair, affixed to two bearers of elastic wood, is placed
inside for the principal sitters; and if there be others,
they rough it out as they best can. These rude springs
are also used in the construction of gies, or two-wheeled
vehicles drawn by one horse.
In addition to the illustrations of primitive carriages
given by Mr. Adams, the following is added. King,
in his ‘Munimenta Antiqua,’ conjectures that a par-
ticular kind of agricultural cart, still used in parts of
Wales, preserves in its form that of the ancient British
: Ze
GON
x ce an oe
; = Sa , = oe ots
=. ~
a
ve
’
5 wt
Xs) a=
oP at
Stat Te}
aS
=
te
.
om
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,
a z
=
is tad
y
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veh
LQ,
ey,
he
4
rt
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—> | a)
=~ ie ee Be
ie
iM
w aN) \) cog ee r = :
wks NY: NY? ean Ca ‘
Iw, SS v: Ws
y { x a “Sy AAS
: W Tne =
ANOMN ee
Ny Ss : \; a i
We atl et WOES 3
aN , is :
— ea
Lae = ~S . .
at PESTER
Wy Chis RS S
[Welsh Agricul Pink,
war-car, Or chariot, such as it was previous to the in-
vasion of the Romans. “ It is surely a striking fact,”
he says, ‘“‘that the present modern Welsh are no Jess
remarkable for using a vast, unnecessary, and quite
disproportionate number of carts or cars, dn many occa-
sions, than their ancestors were. I myself have seen,
near Penrice, in Glamorganshire, a farmer carrying
home a part of his harvest by means of a procession 0
twelve little carts, each drawn by one horse, with a
man or woman riding upon it, and followed by a train
of twelve single horses, each having a man or woman
riding in like manner, and carrying behind them merely
(837.]
two or three sheaves of corn tied up in bags; whilst
the whole convoy, though consisting of twenty-four
riders and horses, and twelve carts, did not carry home
more corn than would have been a load for an English
wageon, nor perhaps so much.
-“That the. resemblance between the ancient British
cars and the modern Welsh little low-built cars is not
founded on idle conjecture, will plainly appear, if we
consider that no sort of carriage of any kind of con-
struction that can be conceived can so well agree with
Cesar’s description of the manner in which they were
used in battle.” Some of these Welsh cars are destitute
of wheels.
In comparing these rude machines given above with
our elegant modern vehicles, we may smile at the con-
trast. But there is yet great room for improvement.
What, for instance, is our omnibus but a huge, clumsy,
noisy vehicle, of the form of which, in a few years, it is
to be trusted we will be heartily ashamed. Consider-
able improvements have of late taken place in the form
and construction of the cabriolets which ply in the
streets. One thing is noticeable; a long period often
elapses before any alteration takes place in any machine
commonly used: but let a bold innovator start any
thing which, to use a vulgar word, “ takes,” and the
idea is immediately eagerly followed up. Are our work-
men and inventors to be considered nierely as a flock of
sheep, who only run in the direction of a more forward
leader, heedless whether the route be right or wrong?
Such a book as that of Mr. Adams is calculated to do
good in this respect.
THE POST OFFICE—ITS EXTENSION AND
IMPROVEMENT.
THE Post Office is one of the constituents of our social
economy, of which we have had good reason to be
proud*. It is a great national institution; one in
which every member of the community is deeply inter-
ested; and whose benefits are freely open to all. It
knits together the extremities of the empire; or rather,
like the piston of an engine, keeps the whole machine of
the country in motion. _No wonder, therefore, amid the
many internal alterations and improvements which have
of late years been going on, that attention should be
strongly directed towards the Post Office. Our popu-
lation is rapidly increasing ; commerce is multiplying
and extending ; steam-boats enter every port; and
railroads are stretching across the country, on which
engines will be running, compared with the speed of
which the fleetest of our admirably-conducted mail-
coaches will be but as the tortoise to the hare.
' .Hitherto it has been a matter of boast, that not only
did the Post Office afford an excellent means of speedy
and safe communication, but, after defraying its own
expenses, it yielded a considerable amount of money to_
the revenue of the country. We may say, in round
numbers, that, at an expense of 500,000/., it yielded a
profit of 1,500,000/. annually. ‘The question has been
repeatedly agitated,—Is this a social good? Is-it right
to put the Post Office on the same footing as the
Customs, or the Excise? Or is it not, in the language
of a homely proverb, making a shilling at the expense
of a pound ?
Evils, not inconsiderable, have arisen out of the high
rates of postage. Of all expenses which we are called
upon to pay, that of postage should be paid most cheer-
fully, because it is for a service performed. But, more
being demanded than is sufficient to defray the expense
of the service, the people have been led to look at the
* A history and description of the Post Office will be found in
No. 117, vol, iii., of the ‘ Peuny Magazine’
THE PENNY MAGAZINE
277
payment more in a grudging tnan in a cheerful light ;
and this has produced, amongst other evils, the fol-
lowing :—
1. A habit of hunting after members of Parliament
to get letters franked. Mere economy has not solely
produced this habit, for there is involved in it an idea
of honour or of respect; and the receiver of a letter is
often much better pleased to receive it franked than to
receive it post-paid. And, though importunily is some-
times teasing, members of Parliament are rather grati-
fied than otherwise in giving franks to friends, casual
acquaintances, or constituents, for all men have a
natural tendency to be pleased in the exercise of an
influence or power which gives pleasure to others.
Economy, however, has a considerable share in pro-
ducing the habit of seeking, often at a loss of time, for
franks from members of Parliament. Now, does it ever
enter into the head of a person who procures a frank to
cover a letter on his own private business, that he is
thereby committing a social wrong—an injury on his
neighbour? Never. Is not this an evil? Has not
the person who cannot get a frank as much right to
have 2s letter carried free by the Post as the man who
can? Yet nobody thinks so. The man who happens
to be acquainted with a member of the legislature, or,
not being acquainted, steps up to him and asks the
favour without circumlocution, is merely considered by
his less fortunate neighbour as being “lucky.” Frank-
ine was bestowed on members of the legislature and
official personages to uphold their dignity, and to enable
them to maintain a prompt and unrestricted communi-
cation on all matters appertaining to their station or
office. But the extensive practice of covering the
letters of individuals on their own private business is
an infraction of the rights of the community; it is
unjust; it makes the Post Office, which ought to be
equally the servant and instrument of all the unpri-
vileged, to work partially, and, as long as postage
remains a tax, divides that tax unfairly.
2nd. The high rates of postage have created a very
general habit of sending letters in parcels, and by
individuals, instead of through the Post Office, to the
evasion of the law. Now, whatever induces us to con-
tract a habit of evading a law is bad. Yet many of us
{who send letters contrary to the law would laugh at
the idea. of being placed in the same category with
smugelers. But, if the law has decreed that a revenue
shall be raised from letters as well as from lace, why
should not the revenue be equally collected until the
law is repealed ?
3rd. Although the Post Office is extensively used, it
is but little used by the bulk of the labouring popula-
tion. Mark the postman as he enters a little street in-
habited by working people. His rat-tat echoes through
it. Windows are thrown up, and nei¢hbours crane their
necks, or they come running to their doors, to see who
it is that has got a letter, and then to wonder who it is
from. It may be a letter from a son or a daughter at
a distance; it is eagerly grasped, the Is. or the 1s. 3d.
is paid, it is opened, spelled through, and, when the
excitement is over, and it is ascertained that all is well,
a orudging feeling rises in the heart, for the ls. or the
ls. 3d. might have got them their dinner.
An extensive lowering of the rates of postage would
produce many benefits.
It would enhance prodigiously the value of the Post-
Office to commerce, and multiply to a large extent
commercial intercourse.
It would aid the progress of education, and draw out
stronely feelings of attachment and regard for each
other amongst the various members of the community.
For, the man who would not write when it would
cost him a sixpence or a shilling would be tempted to
278
write when it would cost him only a penny. ‘To be
sure, one great obstacle on the part even of those who
can write is the want of facility in writing. The man
or the woman who can express themselves clearly by
speech, may, from the want of practice, feel quite be-
wildered in sitting down to put their ideas on paper.
Accustomed to talk they can talk, and that, it may be,
well; unaccustomed to write, when they begin a letter
they feel as if a weight were on their brain and pen.
Take two men of equal intelligence and firmness of
brain; let the one be accustomed and the other unac-
customed to writing—see what a difference it makes
between them! Give to school-boys when they part—
give to young men attached to each other when they
oo to different places to earn their bread—eive to re-
lations when they separate—give to the bulk of our
working population an easy and facile means of com-
munication, and the unused pen will be taken up more
frequently. Writing, which is but the tool of education,
will be more prized, a certain degree of coherence of
thought will be attained, and there will arise around us
a generation of working people taking a greater In-
terest in each other, more intelligent, and better able to
use their intelligence.
In Mr. Rowland Hill’s pamphlet on the ‘ Post
Office,’ he proposes a plan by which letters might be
conveyed over the entire kingdom “at the uniform rate
of one penny each.” What an extraordinary effect
such an arrangement would have! It has been ob-
jected to the plan, that such an extensive lowering of
the rates of postage would bring an extraordinary flood
of letters on the Post Office,—so much so as to render
their distribution impossible. It might just as well be
objected, that, if we connect London with all parts of
the kingdom by rail-roads, on some extraordinary occa-
slons,—such as a coronation,—the streets would be
choked up. Besides, the habits of people are not
changed in a day—commercial men would reap the
first advantage—the other advantages would require to
Srow. |
The following statements are from Mr. Hill’s
pamphlet :—
The number of letters chargeable with postage
which pass through all the post-offices of the
United Kingdom per annum is about* .... 88,600,000
The number of franked letterg* ....e.ese0e0 7,400,000
The number of newspapers* ....eee.eeeees 30,000,000
ee
Total number of letters and newspapers per ann. 126,000,000
The aunual expenses of all kinds at present arej £696,569
“The average cost of conveying a letter or news-
paper, including the cost of collecting the tax, is, under
the present arrangements, about 14d.
“In the total of expenses here given some are how-
ever included which ought not to enter into the calcula-
tion; certain expeuses, as the cost of the packet service,
for instance, are undoubtedly capable of great reduc-
tion: others, as the cost of expresses, and of many by-
posts, are met by special charges.
“Taking the number of letters and newspapers to be 126,000,090,
the average apparent cost of the primary distribution of news-
** The total number of letters, &c., trausmitted through the
Post is a statistical fact altogether unknown: the statement here
given is the result of an estimate, which, however, may be relied
upon as sufficiently accurate for the present purpose.
+ Finance Accounts for the year 1835, pp. 55—57. The great
increase in the number of newspapers since the rednetion of the
duty (already about one-fourth) must be expected in some degree
to increase the expenses of the Post Office; the increase cannot,
however, be such as materially to affect this ealenlation. [Ou
account of the great increase of newspapers lately, some of the
mail-coaches are obliged to run without their usual number of
passengers, the Post Office making a recompense to the mail-coach
contractors. |
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
[J vie,
papers, letters, &c., within the United Kingdom, is for each 84
hundredths of a penny.
“Of which the expense of transit is one-third, or 28 hundredths
of a penny.
“And the cost of receipt, delivery, &c., two-thirds, or 56 hun-
dredths of a penny.
‘‘ But it must be recollected that the’cost of transit
for a given distance will, under ordinary circumstances,
be in tolerably direct proportion to the weight carried ;
and as a newspaper or franked ‘letter weighs on an
average as much as several ordinary letters, the average
expense of transit for a letter chargeable with postage
is probably about one-third of the amount above stated,
or nine-hundredths of apenny. The chargeable letters
do not weigh more than about one-fourth of the whole
mail.”
Sagacity of the Oz.—It is in the southern part of Africa
that the triumph of the ox is complete. His intelligence
seems to exceed anything that we have seen of the horse,
and he is but little inferior to that most sagacious of all
quadrupeds, the dog. Among the Hottentots, these ani-
mals are their domestics, and the companions of their plea-
sures and fatigues; they are both the protectors and the
servants of the Caffre, and assist him in attending his
flocks, and guarding them against every invader. While
the sheep are grazing, the faithful dackely, as this kind of
oxen is called, stands and grazes beside them. Still atten-
tive, however, to the looks of his master, the buckely flies
round the field, obliges the herds of sheep that are straying
to keep within proper limits, and shows no mercy to robbers
who attempt to plunder, nor even to strangers; but it is
not the plunderers of the flock alone, but even the enemies
of the nation, that these backelies are taught to combat.
Every army of Hottentots is furnished with a proper herd
of these creatures, which are let loose against the enemy.
Being thus sent forward, they overturn all before them ;
they strike down with their horns, and trample with their
feet, every one who attempts to oppose them, and thus often
procure their masters an easy victory before they have
begun to strike a blow.—Lvbrary of Useful Knowledge—
Cattle.
The Uralian Mines.—In quantity, as well as in financial
importance, the iron undoubtedly far surpasses the other
metallic produce of the country. There is annually fabri-
cated the enormous quantity of 7,400,000 poods (132,900
tons) of iron; of which quantity four-sevenths are consumed
by the inhabitants of European Russia, two-sevenths by
those of the Asiatic division of the empire, and one-seventh
is exported to the south and south-west. As the total popu-
lation of the Russian empire is estimated to be about
53,000,000, we are justified in supposing that, the inhabit-
ants of contiguous countries included, not above 70,000,000
of men divide among them annually the above-mentioned
quantity of metal; whence we arrive at the surprising con-
clusion that in that quarter of the earth every individual
consumes annually above four pounds of iron. Ifthe quan-
tity of iron annually produced in the Ural were united into
one mass, it would form a ball of only fifty feet diameter ;
and, supposing the ore to have five times the bulk of the.
metal which it yields, the consumption of 100 years would
vet reduce the Ural only by a spherical mass of 403 feet in
diameter. rom this point of view we see in a striking
manner the littleness of human labours; for the ore con-
sumed in 100 years falls greatly short of the rich mass of
the hill of Blagodat alone, where it rises from the plain near
Cushva; and many centuries must rcll over before the
superficial ores near the Uralian mines, now in operation,
can Ls entirely exhausted.—rman’s Journey round the
Earth.
PROGRESS OF GEOGRAPHICAL KNOWLEDGE.
Ir any one takes up a map of the world, and traces
the progress of geographical knowledge from the earliest
period to the present time, he will have a lively idea of
the manner in which this, as well as every other, depart-
ment of science and information, has gradually expanded
from an extremely limited to its present enlarged ranve.
1837.1
The early Greeks imagined that the small extent of
country which they inhabited was the centre of the
universe, and that some of the more distant islands of |
the Mediterranean were the abode of strange and un-
couth beings. ‘The regions which they had never visited
were literally to them the realms of imagination and
fable, surrounded by the river Ocean. When they
became acquainted with a much larger portion of the
earth’s surface, they still believed that the parts unex-
plored were inhabited by a race of fabulous creatures.
This was the natural result of want of knowledge, which
attaches something marvellous to everything that is
unexamined and unknown. In the early period of
navigation, not only was a knowledge of the earth
limited to a small circle, but the information relative
to those parts which came under notice was imperfect
and inexact. Even after Britain had formed a part of
the Homan empire, and the garrisons of the island had’
exercised an influence in the choice of emperor, the
notions which prevailed in the most civilized part of
the world, only about a century after the legions had
been recalled, represented Britain as the region of pro-
digy and fable. During the interval the intercourse
with the island had almost ceased; and, the link which
had connected it with Roman civilization being broken,
it was consiened to the darkness which overspread
other remote parts of the known world. Procopius,
the first historian of the Lower Roman Empire, writing
in the sixth century, relates that the souls of those who
die in Gaul are nightly borne to the shores of Britain
by the boatmen of Friesland and Batavia. ‘‘ These
boatmen,” he says, ‘“‘ see no one; but in the dead of
nieht a terrible voice calls them to their mysterious
office. They find by the shore strange and unknown
boats ready to sail; they feel the weight of the souls
which enter them, one after the other, till the gunwale
of the boat sinks to the level of the water. Neverthe-
less they still see nothing. ‘The same night they reach
the coast of Britain. Another voice calls the ghosts
one by one, and they land in silence*.” Distant
countries continued long to be regarded in this unen-
lirhtened spirit, until commerce led to intercourse with
them, and it was then displayed in the form of national
prejudices and overweening national pride; but even
these are becoming much less inveterate as more ample
opportunities are afforded for forming just and popular
opinions. ‘The people of different countries are com-
mencing to imitate that which they see good in a
nei¢hbouring nation, and thus institutions are improved,
and civilization advances.
Venerable Bede and Alfred the Great were the first
who attempted to impart a knowledge of geography in
this country. Bede translated an account of a visit to
the Holy Land; and a century afterwards Alfred
translated a work on geography by Orosius, which
gives a view of the various nations and kingdoms of the
world in the fifth century. Alfred introduced many ad-
ditions in his translation, particularly a minute account
of Germany, and the relation of a voyage in the Baltic,
and another towards the North Pole, neither of which
contain instances of irrational credulity, but such in-
formation concerning the political state and social con-
dition of the people whose countries were visited as
would be sought for by an intelligent inquirer of the
present day. Both Bede and Alfred were men in
advance of their age; and Mr. Sharon Turner, in his |
‘ History of the Anelo-Saxons,’ has given, from a MS.
of the tenth century, a few specimens of the utter
ignorance which prevailed amongst ‘men who, being
able to write, were then regarded as endowed with much
learning, and may be supposed to have possessed the
best information concerning the subjects on which they
* Sismondi’s ¢ Fall of the Roman Empire, vol, ii, p. 176.
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
279
wrote. The most uninstructed person in the British
empire would not now listen to the statements which
were gravely put forth by our Anglo-Saxon forefathers.
Such marvellous stories appropriately flourished along
with superstitions which rendered life a course of con-
stant apprehension. ‘The most natural events were
blindly regarded as portents of evil or harbingers of
good, and the fear of calamities might overwhelm a
man while engaged in the most rational pursuit; or, if
a favourable omen had inspired him with prosperous
forebodings, the occurrence of an event in ifs accus-
tomed natural course might suddenly, and with as
little reason, dismay him with unanticipated misfortune.
An acquaintance with geography may be supposed to
have little direct concern with a man’s happiness; but
such knowledge, by enlightening the mind, puts to
flight a host of errors which do materially disturb the
equanimity of life.
The following extracts from the MS. alluded to relate
to some supposed region in the East, and, with the sub-
joined map, convey an idea of the excessive credulity of
the times :—“ There is a place in the way to the Red
‘Sea which contains red hens, and if anybody touches
them, his hands and all his body are burnt immediately.
Pepper is guarded by serpents, which are driven away
by fire, and this makes the pepper black. There are
people with dogs’ heads, boars’ tusks, and_ horses’
manes, and breathing flames; also ants as big as dogs,
with feet like grasshoppers, red and black. These crea-
tures dig gold for fifteen days. Men go with female
camels and their young ones to fetch it, which the ants
permit on having liberty to eat the youne camels.”
The same learned work informed our ancestors that
there were human beings fifteen feet high, with two
faces on one head ; others with no heads, who had eyes
and months in their breasts, who were eight feet tall
and eight feet broad; and some who had eyes which
shone with the lustre of a lamp. They peopled all un-
known countries with beings equally uncouth. Even in
the neighbouring country of Gaul it is stated that there
were men twenty feet high, who had heads like lions,
and mouths like the sails of a windmill. This tissue of
absurdities might be much extended if any good pur-
pose could be served by adding to the catalogue other
monstrous creations, which indicate little invention or
imagination. ‘The subjoined map is taken from a MS.
of the tenth century in the Cottonian Library *, and
Is written partly in Latin and partly in Anglo-Saxon.
It is rude and literal enough; and it might have been
supposed that, even with the imperfect knowledge of
geeoeraphy which the Anglo-Saxons possessed at this
period, they could have constructed a more accurate
chart of the parts which. are nearest to them. The
defects of the map are most apparent in the dispropor-
tionate size and inaccurate position of places. ‘The
island to the left of Ireland is probably meant for one
of the western islands of Scotland; but it is by far too
large, and is very incorrectly placed. ‘The same remark
will apply to the islands in the Mediterranean. ‘The
form given to the Black Sea appears to be just such as
would be consequent upon loose information derived
from mariners. However, in the absence of scientific
surveys of any coast, and considering the little inter-
course which took place between distant countries, this
Anglo-Saxon map presents as accurate an outline as
perhaps ought to be expected. If any person whose
eye has not been edueated by lone practice, and who
possesses only an ordinary knowledge of geography,
were to attempt to give an ontline of the map of
Europe, with its various divisions, he would find it
perhaps impossible to avoid making gross blunders,
although his eye had been familiar with the best maps.
* Marked Tiberius. B. 5,
280
The Anglo-Saxons, however, had a more difficult task
to pertorm—that of giving an outline from descriptions
which were generally vague and contradictory. Hence
some of the inaccuracies of the map before us. ‘The
Caspian sea is given in the form of a large bay instead
of an inland lake; and the Baltic, with which it might
be supposed they should have been familiar, is quite as
incorrectly delineated. Even the form of Britain itself
is not accurately given, and the Land’s End stretches
almost as far westward as does Ireland. The moun-
tain on which Noah’s Ark rested after the flood, and
the place where the Israelites crossed the Red Sea, are,
however, exactly determined; and the Pillars of Her-
cules, which once hounded the navigation of the early
Greek mariners, are placed at the entrance of the Medi-
terranean as if they were real and substantial instead
of being merely imaginary. The limited tract of coun-
Se Maes SV itates ; 1. Er
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THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
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[Jury 22, 1837.
try inhabited by the tribes of Israel is extended in the
map far beyond the bounds of Syria. Jerusalem is
correctly placed, and that city was visited in the Anglo-
Saxon times; but the upper portion of the map exhi-
bits so much confusion both in the size of countries and
their position, as to be nearly unintelligible unless com-
pared with a modern map. It should be recollected
that in this map the north, instead of being at the top,
is on the left side, and consequently the east is the
uppermost point of the map. This arrangement ren-
ders it more perplexing, but by comparison with a
modern map, a general, though imperfect, resemblance
may be traced in the outlines of different countries and
seas. ‘The Pyrenees and Alps would look like arms of
the sea if they were not, as well as other chains of
mountains, distinguished by a plain line drawn under-
neath them.
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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 & CoO., 22, LUDGATE STREET.
Printed by W1LL1aM CLoweEs and Sons, Stamford Street,
HE PENNY MAGAZ
OF THE
society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge,
341.)
PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY.
[JuLy 29, 1837.
A LOOKING-GLASS FOR LONDON.—No. XIX.
TRADE—REGENT STREET, AND THE SHOPS OF THE “West Enp.”
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[Regent Street, looking North, from the Quadrant.]. .
Tue “east end” of London knows little or nothing of
those elerant modern refinements in shopkeeping which,
under the names of bazaars and arcades, are familiar to
the ‘‘ west end,” and to various provincial towns. ‘The
shopkeepers of the city, though many of them are
bestowing much of splendid decoration on their pre-
mises, still act on the maxim that a shop Is neither more
nor less than a shop, a place for positive buying and
selling, and not intended to accommodate a congrega-
tion of loungers. Bazaars and arcades are, therefore,
more intended for those who have time and money at
their disposal, and are, occasionally, uncertain how to
spend either, than for the sober, specific, earnest pur-
poses of trade. Thus, whiat is sold in these places be-
iongs principally to the lighter and more elegant branches
of traffic: the pastry-cook may show himself amongst the
sellers, but the baker and the butcher would be out of
their element. In the shops of the arcade, and on the
tables and counters of the bazaer, are spread out what-
ever is thought likely to attract the eye, and tempt to
purchase. Hither comes the jeweller, with his rings,
and chains, and seals, and watches; the perfumer has
his oils, and combs, and brushes; the toyman with his
dancing-jacks, and ever-galloping horsemen, tiny trum-
pets, drums, and violins, Chinese puzzles, and musical
boxes ; the tobacconist offers his cigars and scented
snuffs ; the stationer and the music-seller exhibit prints,
music, aiid musical instruments; while the shoemaker,
Vout. VI.
milliner, and bonnet-maker display the neatest proofs
of their respective handicrafts.
The first arcade we meet with in proceeding westward
is the: Lowther Arcade, which runs from the Strand to
Adelaide Street, at the back of St. Martin’s church.
This is a fine passage, lofty and spacious, and lehted
by ornamented circular skylights. The Burlington
Arcade, in Piccadilly, is narrower but much longer
than the Lowther Arcade. It is favourably situated
near the thoroughfares of the west end, and is itself a
considerable thoroughfare. In Pimlico, where, about
ten years ago, were fields, now occupied by the fine
houses which constitute Belgrave Square, Wilton Cres-
cent, &c., there is the Pantechnicon—a spirited attempt
to combine on one spot all the supplies requisite for a
rich and fashionable population. ‘The Pantechnicon is
a compound of the arcade and the bazaar, and aims at
a higher and more solid character than either have yet
made for themselves. It consists of two large and
distinct buildings—one termed the “carriage depart-
ment,” devoted to the purposes its name indicates; the
other, having two paved passages or arcades, with shops
on either side, stairs leading to show-rooms above, and
wine-vaults below, while a significant “‘@3- To the
Bazaar’ intimates that lighter and more elegant trifles
are not forgotten in the attention paid to carriages,
furniture, and household supplies.
There are various bazaars at the west end, of which
20
282
the more remarkable are, the one in Solio Square, the
first started in London, another in Baker Street, Port-
man Square, and a third in the building in Oxford
Street, which occupies the site of what was termed the
Pantheon. The Pantheon was a handsome building
devoted to purposes of amusement; it was nearly all
burned in 1792; and the present building, which re-
tains the portico of the former one, has, after some
vicissitudes, been devoted to the purposes of a bazaar.
The ground-floor is neatly set round with tables, after
the manner of a “‘ fancy fair;” a flight of stairs leads to
the upper floor, which is partly occupied in the same
way; and a number of other rooms are set apart as a
picture gallery, where pictures are hung up for sale.
An open space in the centre of the upper floor, which
is railed round, permits the light to fall from the roof
on the lower floor, and from hence the visiter can look
down on the not nninterestine scene below. In the
rear of the building is a conserv ratory, where plants and
flowers are exhibited for sale, and which contains a
inimi¢ fountain and basin with gold and silver tish.
Regent Street is divided into two distinct portions
or streets. The first street, which is the shortest, runs
up from Pall Mall to Piccadilly, terminating in an open
circular space, called the Circus. The Haymarket on
one side, and St. James’s Street at some little dis-
tance on the other, run parallel with this Regent
Street, all three extending from Pall Mall to Piccadilly.
The view from the Cireus down Regent Street, which
slopes towards St. James’s Park, is excellent. The
street, though rather short, is broad and spacious: the
view extends across Pall Mall, to the steps leading into
the park, on the top of which is the pillar erected to
the memory of the Duke of York. From the Circus
we turn round, through the colonnaded curve called
the Quadrant, into the upper portion of Regent Street.
The Quadraut is certainly a singular street. Its form
is a curve: colonnades supported on iron pillars run
alone -on either side, underneath which the foot pas-
sengers walk, and the shops here are of a similar cha-
racter to the shops of an arcade. In cold, moist, wintry
weather, these colonnades are dark, heavy-looking, and
cheerless, even thoneh they afford a shelter from the
rain, while the sombre aspect of gas-lit shops in mid-
day adds to the dreariness. In summer they are plea-
sant, cool and shady, but still are lacking in that
peculiar kind of effect which we associate with a
colonnade in sultry weather. A calm, bright, moon-
lit night, is the best time for viewing with allvautare
a style of building which can hardly be said to be
adapted to the character of onr climate.
On emerging from the Quadrant, the upper Regent
Street 1 1S spread before us; and if the period be the busy
‘season,’ and the time of day from one or two o'clock
till four or five, or even six, with a bright summer sun
pouring its radiance over spacious street and dingy
alley, the view is, of its kind, one of the finest in the
world. The newest fashions are displayed on the
street; rows of carriages are drawn up at the edge of
each pavement; loungers on foot, or on horseback, or
whirling their cabriolets along, pass up and down; at
the doors of many of the shops forms are ostentatiously
placed by the considerate shopmen, on which footmen
recline, in liveries of various hues, awaiting the pleasure
of their masters or mistresses within; shopmen, trimly
dressed, step out to receive the commands of those who
do not choose to alight from their carriages, or else to
deliver the purchases with a polite and humble attention ;
and now and then, a hackney-coach, or a cab, er an om-
nibus with its dozen passengers at sixpence each, or a
poor begear on the pavement, make their appearance,
as if to illustrate by the force of contrast all this showy
splendour. What an amount of wealth does this single
Street indicate !
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
[Jury 29,
Bond Street, divided into Old and New, is a short
distance from Regent Street, running parallel with it
from Piccadilly to Oxford Street. It is still a much-
frequented place, and many of its shops are elegant
and grand, though its old consequence as a fashionable
lounge ing-street has been somewhat eclipsed by its more
magnificent- looking rival.
The long line of Oxford Street is full of many and
remarkable contrasts. Shops of every character are to
be found in it; the baker and the confectioner, with
their open windows, and smoking buns, and tarts that
the sun has changed in colour; the fishmonger drench-
ing his shop with water, to preserve his stock froin the
effects of the heat; the public-house, at the doors of
which stable-boys, footmen, and working men may be
seen entering or emerging; the coffee-shop ; the trunk-
maker; the ~hosier, In a “little shop where there seems
hardly 1 room to turn between the shelves and the counter;
the saloon-like place where the mercer unrolls his silks ; ;
the little stalls on the edge of the pavement, loaded
with cabbage and cauliflowers, green pease, and new
potatoes. ‘he best part of Oxford Street is from a
little east of Regent Street, proceeding westwards,
Being a great thoroughfare, it is perpetually thronged ;
carriaves, stage- coaches, cabriolets, and omnibuses are
ever rolling past—for Oxford Street i is the Cheapside of
the ‘ west end.
We have already alluded, on former occasions, to the
other streets of the west- -end, which are noted places—
such as Pall-Mall and St. Youver's Street. The creat
thoronghfares, or promenades, are Pall-Mall, St. James’
Street, Piccadilly, New and Old Bond Streets, Albe-
marle Street, the two Regent Streets, Oxford Street,
with the arcades gal bazaars. There are many fine
shops here and there, some of them in very quiet- look-
ing places, scattered amongst the private honses in the
different streets. Charing Cross, the west end of the
Strand, and part of Whitehall Street may be added to
the reinarkable or noted streets.
In speaking of the “ west end,” and associating with
it the idea of @randeéur and fashion, we must not forget
that there are numerous Streets, insinuated, as it were,
into the crevices of those spacious and maghifieenk
streets, which proclaim that the rich and noble do not
occupy exclusively this large division of London. For
where else could the working population be sheltered,
whose business it is to wait upon and supply the de-
mands of their wealthier neighbours? From the mag-
uificence of Portland Place we can pass in a few
minutes into little streets and courts, some of them
dirty’and disagreeable-looking ; and, after wandering
amid the noble mansions that occupy ‘the streets on the
east side of Hyde Park, we can cross Bond Street and
Regent Street, and arrive in places where it is to be
feared that much of ignorance and much of vice are
still to be found. The least instructed and least re-
flecting portion of the community have a tendency to
settle down by the side of the rich, and, by contributing
to their conveniences, earn a livelihood. It is this very
class, however, who are least capable of resisting evil
example, or of denying themselves an excessive in-
dulgment of their appetites—and it is to be feared that
there is, comparatively, more of vice amongst the under
classes of the west than of the east end of London.
LINDISFARN, OR HOLY ISLAND.
THose portions of the County Palatine of Durham
which are known as North Durham, and which lie on
the north side of the River Tyne, are divided into Bed-
lingtonshire, Norhamshire, and Islandshire. ‘The two
latter are contiguous upon the southern bank of the
Tweed, and the former consists of a district upon the
southern coast of Northumberland. ‘The so-called
1837.]
shires of Norham and Island are coextensive with
parishes bearing the same names, and may be con-
sidered as the most ancieut possessions of the see of
Durham. The parish of Island, or Holy Island, in its
southern extremity, extends to that part of the right
bank of the Tweed where it falls into the sea at Ber-
wick, and reaches on the east from the sea again to the
Tweed on the north: it is divided into the five chapel-
ries of Holy Island, the mother-church, Kyloe, Lowick,
Ancroft, and Tweedmouth. This parish derives its
historical importance as containing the island from
which Christianity first shed her benignant rays on
Northumberland; and which for four centuries was not
only the episcopal residence of the see which is now
known as the bishopric of Durham, but the repository
of learning in the North of England. This island the
ancient Britons called Inis Medicante, but its familiar
appellation was Lindisfarn, until the sanctity of its
inhabitants procured for it the name of Helichlant, or
Holy Island. According to Symeon, a monk of
Durham, the island took its second name from the
Lindis, a brook which empties itself into the sea from
the opposite shore: ‘‘ farn,” the concluding syllable, is
evidently a corruption of the Cellie word jfahren, a
recess. The more modern name was hestowed on it
soon after the Conquest, with reference to the original
sanctity of the place, and the sacred blood of monks
and martyrs which had been shed by the Danes. ‘The
greatest distance of Lindisfarn from the coast scarcely
exceeds two miles; it is,as Bede has properiy described
it, a semi-island, being twice an island and twice part
of the continent in one day: at the flow of the tide
it is encompassed by water, and at the ebb there is
almost a dry passage both for horses and carriaves.
The depth of the water at ordinary high tides is about
five, at spring-tides about seven feet. The path from
the main land to the island at low water is a very pre-
carious one, and is lengthened to about twice the actnal
distance between the two places by pools and quick-
sands, which have on too many occasions proved fatal
to travellers ;—the parish register affording numerous
instances of the burials of persons found drowned in
crossing the sands to the island. ‘he intervening space
presents at low water a dull and dreary appearance, the
only objects to enliven the scene being an occasional
fisherman, his wife, or children, slowly picking their
way across the sands,—the rising of a flock of wild
ducks, which they have disturbed,—or the silver wings
of a sea-mew sparkling in the sun.
Holy Island measures, from east to west, about two
miles and a quarter in length, and its breadth, from
north to south, is scarcely a mile and a half. At the
north-west part there runs out a slip of land of about a
mile in length: the circumference of the entire island
comprehends about eivht miles. [It contains about
1000 acres, above one-half of which is, from the violence
of the tempests, covered with sand, and produces nothing
but bents; even this part, however, is valuable as a
rabbit warren : the remainder is enclosed and cultivated.
The enclosures bear such good crops that the inhabit-
ants seldom find it necessary to have recourse to the
main land for their corn, or the other ordinary preduc-
tions of the ground. The soil of Holy Island is divided
into Crown lands, the possessions of the Dean and
Chapter of Durham, and private freeholds. The prin-
cipal proprietor is Mr. Henry Collingwood Selby, the
Clerk of the Peace for Middlesex, who possesses nearly
four-fifths of the island, partly by lease from the Crown,
and partly in lis nght as a freeholder: this gentleman
is also the lord of the manor. ‘The island cousists
clnefiy of one continuous plain, inclining to the south-
west. ‘The village stands upon an acclivity, which rises
abruptly from the shore; and at the southern point of
it there is a rock, of a conical figure, whieh rises almost
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
283
perpendicularly to the height of sixty feet, and has on
its lofty crown a small fortress, or castle. <A little to the
north-east of the village there are four caves, the longest
of which is upwards of fifty feet long, and the entrance
of which is Just large enough to admit a man; over
these caves a rock rises to the height of forty feet. The
town or village of Holy Island consists of a few irregular
narrow streets, the names of which are still preserved,
although their importance has long departed, branch-
ing off from a small square called the Market Place.
In the middle of this place, a few years ago, there stood
the stump of an old market-cross, which was called the
“Petting Stone,’ over which newly-married people
were made to leap forJuck. Modern improvement has,
however, removed this remnant of ancient times, and
erected in its place a handsome new cross of Norman
character. ‘The town contains about 100 houses, the
great proportion of which are the humble cottages of
the fishermen, who with their families constitute the
chief part of the population (amounting to between 400
and 500 persons) of the island. ‘There are very few
good houses of ancient date; but the island having of
late years become frequented as a bathing-place during
the summer months, new ones have been erected, to be
let out as lodgings for the accommodation of the visiters.
Many of the fisherwomen’s cottages are evidently of
ancient date, not a few having in all probability wit-
nessed the Priory in its glory; whilst in the more
modern ones is to be seen here and there a window
with stone stanchells, or an old weather-beaten oak-
door, which prove themselves to have been part of the
dismantled church. The old houses thus give to the
town an air of antiquity, whilst those which have been
more recently erected bestow on the whole place a neat
and comfortable appearance. ‘The shore is in many
parts excellent for bathing, and the situation is both
healthy and romantic. ‘The north and east parts of the
coast are formed of perpendicular rocks, and the other
sides sink by gradual declinations towards the sea.
The castle, as we have before stated, stands upon a
rock, and is accessible only by a winding pass cut on
its southern side; it belongs to the crown, and is still
looked on as a fortress by government, although it
would avail little against any ship of considerable force:
a few soldiers are generally stationed in it in connexion
with the garrison of Berwick. Formerly its battery
was mounted with seven or eight large guns, but these
implements of war were removed by order of the War
Office in the year 1819, and have not been since restored.
The magnificence of the prospect from the walls cannot
be surpassed; on the north the eye is arrested, after
passing over an arm of the sea about seven miles in
breadth, by the ancient and fortified town of Berwick ;
on the south, at about an equal distance, Bamborongh
Castle appears, elevated on a projecting promontory ;
towards the east there is an unlimited view of the sea,
sometimes rough and gloomy, and at other times calm
and resplendent, and scattered over with vessels; whilst
on the west, after passing over the narrow channel by
which the land is insulated, the shore exhibits for miles
the rich and fertile districts of Islandshire and Norham-
shire, ornamented with the seats of the descendants of
the ancient border chiefs, the Haggerstons, the Ordes,
the Askews, the Alders, &c., with their neat villages and
accompanying woodlands. The antiquity of the castle
is not accurately known; but a stronghold is known
to have been erected where the present building stands
in order to protect the monks from the incursions of
the Danes. It was formerly of considerable importance,
for, according to Rushworth (who was the Recorder of
Berwick), it was seized by order of Parliament, during
the civil war with Charles L., “it being of such conse-
quence to the northern parts of the kingdom.” = During
the rebellion of 1715 the seizure of this castle was
20 2
284
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[Ruins of the Priory of Lindisfarn. ]
planned and executed by two men only, friends of the
Pretender, whose courage and sagiacity would doubtless
have entitled them to hieh honours had the cause been
successful. The account is curious and interesting, and
worthy of being more extensively known than it Is.
Lancelot Errington, a Catholic of ancient and respect-
able family, in Northumberland, but who himself was
in comparatively reduced circumstances, having been
promised assistance by. Mr. Forster, the rebel general,
moored a ship, of which he was master, in Holy Island
harbour, and being well known in that part of the
country, went, under pretence of wanting something, to
the castle, the garrison of which consisted of a serjeant,
a gunner, and ten men, and invited the serjeant and
the men off duty on board his vessel. The invitation
being accepted, he plied his guests so well with brandy
that they were soon incapable of any opposition, and
were secured. Lancelot, accompanied by his nephew,
Mark Errington then returned to the castle, where they
knocked down the two sentinels, surprised and turned
out the @unner and three other soldiers, and shutting
the @ates, hoisted the Pretender’s colours as a signal of
success, and anxiously awaited the promised succour.
Instead, however, of a reinforcement, a party of the
king’s troops arrived from Berwick, and the captors
were obliged to retreat over the walls of the castle,
hoping to conceal themselves among the seaweeds until
it was dark; but the tide rising they were obliged to
swim for their lives. ‘They reached the rocks, in scram-
bling up which they were discovered and fired on;
Lancelot having been wounded they were both taken
and conveyed to Berwick gaol. . Whilst thus confined,
they managed to dig a burrow under the foundations
of the prison, depositing the earth taken out in an old
oven. Through this burrow they escaped, and having
reached the Tweed, they actually rowed themselves
across the river in the custom-house boat, which when
done with was turned adrift. They reached Bam-
borough Castle, closely pursued by the soldiers; there
they were concealed nine days in a pea-stack, a relative
supplying them with food every night. With great
difficulty they at last reached Sunderland, and got
shipping for France. After the rebellion was sup-
pressed, they took the benefit of the general pardon,
and returned to Newcastle-upon-Tyne, where Lancelot
died, in 1746, of grief on hearing of the victory of
Culloden.
The early church history of Lindisfarn is the history
of the see of Durham, a short sketch of which will be
found in No. 73, p. 196. The bishopric of Lindisfarn
was founded a.p. 634, and the island was the residence
of fourteen bishops, among whom was the celebrated
St. Cuthbert, whose miracnlous powers, both in life and
death, Bede, and the ancient chroniclers of the see of
Durham, have celebrated in stories calcnlated for the
age in which they lived. ‘Towards the close of the
tenth century, the see was removed, from the incursions
of the Danes, to Chester le Street, and afterwards to
Durham ; and in the commencement of the following
century, Lindisfarn, so long the residence of episcopacy,
became the seat of the priory of Holy Island. » This
priory, interesting and beautiful in its decay, was
erected about the year 1094, and belonged, down to the
time of its dissolution, to the monks of the order of
1837.)
St. Benedict. "The Holy Island monks, like those in-
habiting all the border monasteries, appear to have seen
ereat prosperity, as well as much adversity; at one
period rich with an income of 200/. per annum, at a
time when such a sum was equivalent to 2000/. of the
money of the present day; at another period their
revenues were reduced to 32/. per annum, when the
currency of the realm was in a state of great deprecia-
tion. After the removal of the see from the island, and
from the establishment of the priory, the clergy of Lin-
disfarn lost the character they had before acquired for
learning and piety. The antiquarian zeal of Mr. Raine
has discovered that “their little library could at no
period boast of a classical author, a chronicle, or one of
Bede's numerous treatises; and it is a positive fact that
from the year 1416 to the dissolution they were fre-
quently, and in fact generally, without a bible. They
had their service books for the church, some of which
contained select portions of scripture as lessons, gospels,
and epistles, to be periodically read and commented
upon, and beyond them nothing more was necesgary.”
After the dissolution of monasteries, the possessions of
the priory were granted by Henry VIII. to the Dean
and Chapter of Durham, to whom they still belong.
The Priory of Holy Island is, as might be supposed
from the date of its erection, of the Norman style of
architecture—
“© A solemn, huge, and dark red pile
Placed on the margin of the isle.”
In repairing the chancel about the year 1441, the monks
having altered the form of the roof, fell into a great
mistake in their chariness of buttresses for its support.
The side walls being unable to resist the pressure of the
roof, began to incline outwards, and the roof ultimately
fell to the ground; these walls still stand leaning out-
wards inasingular manner. ‘The church is in the form
of across, the east and west limbs of which are still
standing, while the other parts are totally in ruins and
almost level with the ground. The tower of the church,
which itself was the prototype of Durham Cathedral,
stands in the centre, and was supported by two large
arches, standing diagonally: one of them is yet stand-
ing, and from its extreme lightness and fine proportions,
forms the most beautiful object in the ruins. The arch
is somewhat similar to that of the stranger's hall at
Canterbury. Hutchinson, in his ‘ View of Northumber-
land,’ thus notices it —‘* These ruins retain at this day
one most singular beauty; the tower has not formed a
lantern, as in most cathedrals, but from the angles
arches sprane crossing each other diagonally to form a
canopy roof. One of these arches yet remains, un-
loaded with any superstructure, supported by the south-
east and north-west corner pillars, and ornamented
with the dancette or zigzag moulding, extending a fine
bow over the chasm and heap of ruins occasioned by
the falling in of the aisles.” ‘The whole structure was,
unfortunately for the ornaments, built of a soft red
freestone, the consequences of which have been noticed
by Sir Walter Scott in ‘ Marmion.’
«“ Not but the wastine sea-breeze keen
Had worn the pillar’s carving quaint,
And mouldered in his niche the saint,
And rounded with consuming power
The pointed angles of each tower ;
Yet still entire the abbey stood,
Like veteran, worn, but unsubdued.’’
This venerable ruin is, in despite of the exertions of the
lord of the manor, fast disappearing ; and in all proba-
bility before the lapse of another half century, the walls
of it remaining will be level with the earth.
Upon a low detached portion of a basaltic line of
rock in front of the ruins of the Priory Church, at about
100 yards distance from the main island, half an acre
of which is covered with grass, is to be traced the out-
lines of a small chapel dedicated to St. Cuthbert; the
walls in some places are two feet above the ground,
THE PENNY
MAGAZINE. 285
The islet, which still bears the name of St. Cuthbert,
is completely insulated at full tide.
The fishermen, who are the principal inhabitants of
Holy Island, are a fine, athletic, hardy race of men.
Each family possesses a small boat, in which the father
and his sons, 11 all seasons of the year, however bois-
terous, go out in the middle of the night to fish. The
coast abounds in cod, haddock, whitings, ling, and brat.
The produce of the night’s labonr is conveyed in small
carts, or on horseback in panniers, either to the neigh-
bouring markets of Berwick or to the surrounding vil-
laves, where they are sold at very Jow prices; the
finest haddocks for which the sea off Holy Island is
famous, seldom bringing more than 3d. or 4d., and nat
unfrequently selling for ld. In thus disposing of their
fish, these poor women will not unfrequently wander
over a distance of twenty or thirty miles in a day, think-
ing themselves amply repaid if their whole stock pro-
duces one-half of what a London fishmonger charees
for a single cod. The herring-fishing season is the
Holy Island fishermen’s harvest. Herring-fishing re-
quires boats of a very large size, each of which is eene-
rally held ‘in certain shares by several families, who
join in the labour of fishing and the expenses of the
boat. If the season be favourable, the produce of the
herring-fishing is very considerable, and enables the
fishermen to provide against the dull and _ profitless
parts of the year. Many of the fishermen of Holy
Island are the proprietors of the cottages in which they
reside, as well as the small piece of vround which is
generally attached to them.
SKETCHES OF THE .PENINSULA.—No. IV,
Lisson.
In our last paper we gave a sketch of the general ap-
pearance of Lisbon, and the impression which it makes
on a visiter. We now conclude our notice of that city,
by giving the following more detailed account of its
buildings and general constrnction.
We have already mentioned its situation on the right
or north bank of the Vagus, where it occupies, like ancient
Rome, seven hills, the extremities of a monuntain-rauve
which traverses the entire province of Estramadura,
in which Lisbon is sitnated. The ascent to the hiehest
parts of the city is -by a gradnal slope, covered with
irregular streets, though in some parts they are so
steep as to render a descent, except on foot, extremely
hazardous; whilein others they are broad and spacious.
After the wreat earthquake in 1755, which laid the
!entire city in ruins, the Marquis de Pombal, who was
then Prime Minister, formed the design of rebnilding
itona regular plan. Tor this purpose, with the as-
sistance of the ablest architects he could collect, he
divided the ground into a number of squares, at equal
distances from each other, subdividing the intervening
space into streets, perfectly straight and parallel, and
again dividing these by others at right angles. Only a
very small part of this magnificent plan was carried
into execution ; and we can conceive, from that portion,
what ‘would have been the grandeur and magnificence
of a city, situated as Lisbon is, and commanding so
many excellent points of, view, had it been thus re-
built; but, as in London after the great fire, the op-
portunity was Jost of erecting one of the most beautiful
cities in the world, and it is to be hoped that snch
opportunities will not again occur. ‘The Plaga do
Commercio (represented in our wood-cut in No, 340,
as seen from the river) is one of Pombal’s Squares, and
was intended to form a kind of exchange for colonial
and foreign merchants. The houses are of an equal
height, 7. e. two stories, and occupy three sides of the
square, the fourth being open to the river. ‘These
three sides are surrounded by a piazza, under which
business is conducted amongst the various merchants
286
The custom-house, war offices,
In
who assemble there.
and national library occupy the upper chambers.
the centre stands the beautiful equestrian statue of
King José, the figure and horse, as well as the serpents
beneath his feet, are of bronze; the horse’s eyes are
said to have been formed of two splendid brilliants,
and that Marshal Junot being unable to remove the
statue, carried off these valuable eyes. ‘The pedestal is
formed of a single block of white marble, which is said
to have required eighty yoke of oxen to draw it from
the quarry. The front is ornamented with a bronze
profile of the king, and the two sides are adorned with
sculptures, representing the triumphs of Portugal in
India and America. ‘The whole is surrounded by an
iron rail, supported at intervals by marble pillars, upon
a platform ascended by about eight steps. ‘The ex-
treme elerance of this railing might serve as a model
for imitation in this country, where the effect of our
public statues is considerably decreased by the inele-
cance, if not absolute ugliness of the accessories. The
quays or caes of Lisbon are upon a nobie plan where
finished, but, like the other parts of Pombal’s design,
are neglected and discontinued by a government that
had not capacity to understand its beauty nor its utility.
The principal landing-place is in the Placa do Com-
mercio (perhaps better known as Black Horse Square),
where the ascent from the river is formed by a mae-
nificent flight of steps.
The three principal streets, Rua d’Oro, Rua de Plata,
and Rua de Panfo, so called from the trades carried on
respectively in each, lead in parallel lines from Black
Horse Square to the Rocio, a large and beautiful
square, in which reviews of the troops, National Guard,
&c., take place; the central window of what once was
the Palace of the Inquisition, being fitted up for the
royal reception. <A little beyond are the public gar-
dens, which, under the reien of the present queen,
have been considerably enlarged. The beauty of these,
as indeed of most foreign gardens, consists in a great
number of trees and hedges cut into curious and ero-
tesque figures, amongst winch the corkscrew figure
seems to be the favourite.
The Castle of St. George (the patron saint of Por-
tngal, as of England) overlooks the Rocio, and the
ascent to it is extremely toilsome. ‘The streets leading
up being so. steep as in many places to-be little more
than one vast flight of steps. When, however, the
summit is gained, the magnificence of the prospect
amply recompenses the labour. ‘The view is uninter-
rupted for leagues around on every side: to the north
the horizon is bounded by the beautifully picturesque
mountains of Cintra; fdéllowing the line of coast,
varieeated with towns and villages and forts, we see
the noble Tagus, wuarded as it is by Belem and the
Bouje, rolling its mighty stream into the boundless
ocean; then from the plain green fields we see the
houses deepen, street upon street follows, till all the
city crowds upon the eye with its thousand domes, and
convents, and palaces: as we turn to the southward,
the precipices of Almada, crowned with the fort and
tower, the deep bays of Moita and Alcoxete, the distant
mountains of the Arabida, the isolated and castle-
capped Palmella, combine to form a picture inde-
scribably grand, afd, as far as I have seen, unrivalled.
The descent from the castle by the principal street is
much more gradual than the ascent; and we here
meet with the Jimoeira or gaol for prisoners of all
classes; and a littie lower down the cathedral. ‘This
church, thongh extremely plain, and nearly destitute
of any kind of ornament, has a noble and ancient
appearance; the frout consists of two towers, the space
between them being occupied by the arched doorway
and a circular window. ‘Fhe chapel of St. Antonio de
Sé in its front adds considerably to the effect, as it
¥elieves by its lavish ornament the plainness of the
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
[JuLy 29,
cathedral. There is a’small frnit-market held here,
Crowning the hill beyond the castle, stands the con-
veilt of St. Vicente de Fora, of which we have given
an account and a view in No. 339. The suburbs of
this division of Lisbon are extremely beautiful, being
crowded with the quintas or villas of the nobility and
gentry. These villas are the more numerous, as, save
a trip to Cintra in the summer, few of the nobility
leave the capital, even to visit their estates. Indeed,
so smallis the desire amongst the Portuguese to improve
their property by agricultural means, that few have
any idea of its condition, know its extent, or possess
plans of even parts of their estates. Besides these
mansions in the environs, many of the nobility possess
splendid palaces in the heart of the city ; such, indeed,
is the palace of the Marquis de Quintilla, a little above
the Caes do Sodere. There is little in the external appear-
ance of this edifice to attract attention: but the interior
is fitted up in the most splendid style, the furniture and
ornaments being after the English fashion. The Mar-
quis, who derives his immense wealth from the tobacco
monopoly, is a great admirer of the English, and has
several Enelish servants. ‘The chapel to the Quintilla
Palace is, internally, very beautifully fitted up; there
are a few good pictures in it, and the carvings around
some of the shrines are very elegant. On the opposite
side of the small square (Largo dasduas Igrejas) -
stands the Loretto, or Italian church; in the centre of
the square there is a beautiful fountain, with a colossal
statue of Neptune in white marble; higher up, and
near the suburb of Val de Pereiro, stands the College
of Nobles, founded in 1761, which is one of the three
universities of Portugal, the other two being those of
Coimbra and Evora.
ee ee eee
THE ABBE DE L’'EPEE AND THE DEAF AND
DUMB.
THE possibility of conveying instruction to the minds
of the deaf and dumb began to be distinctly asserted
in the sixteenth century. Rudolphus Agricola, of Gro-
ningen, mentioned that he had himself witnessed a
person deaf from infancy, and consequently dumb, who
had learned to understand writing, and, as if possessed
of speech, was able to note down his thoughts. This
statement was called in question; but ‘* the theoretical
principles on which the art rests were discovered and
promuleated by the learned Jerome Cardan, of the
University of Pavia, his native place. He was born in
1501, and died in 1576. Cardan thus expresses him-
self:—‘ Writing is associated with speech, and speech
with thought; but written characters and ideas may be
connected together without tlie intervention of sounds,
as in hieroglyphic characters.’ ”
Pedro de Ponce, a monk of the order of St. Benedict,
in Spain, who died in 1584, is stated to have been the
first, or at least the most noted, amongst the early
practitioners of the art of teaching the deaf and dumb.
About forty years after the death of Ponce, John Paul
Bonet, another Spaniard, to whom is attributed the
merit of being the inventor of the one-handed alphabet,
published a book on the subject. His work, which was
in after-years useful to De |’ Epee, is entitled ‘ Reduccion
de las Lettras, y Arte para ensenar 4 hablar los Mudos.’
During the time of Bonet, the art was also making
some progress in Italy. Many first discoveries were pro-
bably made; several of them originated with, or were
carried forwards by, philologists, and particularly among
the schemers for an universal language. In Eneland,
John Bulwer’s name must stand prior to that of any
other individual as an author on the subject, aid his
views, as given in * Philocophus,’ are sound and prac-
tical. It has often been attempted to place Dr. Wallis
at the head of this list of discoverers in Eneland; but
Bulwer's ‘ Philocophus, or the Deafe and Duiribe Mau’
1837.]
Friend,’ was published several years before Wallis at-
tempted even his treatise on speecn, and he did not
publish his claims as an instructor of the deaf till 1670%.
The Abbé de | Epée holds a high rank amongst the
friends and instructors of the deaf and dumb. Previous
to his time, and dnring: it, the art of teaching those
labouring under this calamity was pursued more as a
cunning craft, for the benefit of a few individuals whio
carefully concealed their modes of operation, than asa
means of enabling inen to alleviate one of the many
natural evils to which our race are liable. ‘The Abbé
de l'Epée brought to the work a disinterested benevo-
leuce, an ingenuous frankness, a patient perseverance,
which elevated the art into a profession honourable in
itself, calculated to enlist men’s sympathies, and to ex-
tend the will and the power of rescuing from mental
oblivion those deprived of the usual meaus of commu-
nication with their fellows.
Charles Michel de ]’Epde was born at Versailles in
1712. His father, who was the king’s architect, was
a clever and a good man, and brought up his family as
all good men wish to do. Young De I’'Eipée was there-
fore fitly trained up. No scenes of domestic misery,
arising from the indulgence of evil habits, passed before
his eyes—his parents taught him the theory and showed
him the practice of the fear of God and the love of his
neighbour. Tle was educated for the church. Con-
scientious scruples stood in the way of his obtaining
holy orders: being a Jansenist, he refused to sign a
formulary of faith according to the established practice
of the diocese of Paris, and he could not’ get past the
rank of deacon. He therefore turned his attention to
the law: but this profession did not suit his inclination
and spirit. ‘* His only desire was to be a minister of
the gospel of peace, and at last he was successful.” A
nephew of the celebrated Bossuet, who, like his uncle,
was a pious and liberal-minded man, being then Bishop
of Troyes, ordained M. de Epée, and gave him a ca-
nonry in his cathedral-church.
The Abbd de ’Epée’s attention was directed to the
education of the deaf and dumb by an incidental cir-
cumstance. Business took him one day to a house
where he found only two young women, who were
busily engaged in needle-work. He spoke to them
repeatedly, but received no answer. The nother arrived,
and explained to him the cause of their silence—the
two sisters were deaf and dumb!
pictures ; but after his death they were neglected.
‘* Believing,” says M. de VEpce, “that these two
children wonld live and die in ignorance of their re-
ligion, if I did not attempt some means of instructing
them, I was tonched with compassion, and told the
mother that she might send them daily to my honse,
and that I would do whatever I might find possible
for them.”
M. de l’Epée recollected that when he was about
A kind ecclesiastic -
named Vanin, had tried to educate them by means of
THE PENNY MAGAZINE,
i
{
sixteen years of age, his tutor, in a conversation he had _
with him, had proved to him that there is 10 more
natural connexion between ideas and the sounds by
which they are expressed to the éar, than between these
saine ideas aud the written characters by which they
are expressed to the eyé. Thus, take any particular
word, say water or fire:—the Englishman who hears
these words spoken, or sees them in writing or in print,
immediately associates the words with the things them-
selves, bnt to a foreigner ignorant of our lafiguage they
convey no meaning at all. If ideas can be conveyed
to the mind independently of sieht or of sound, it
* See the ‘ Penny Cyclopedia,’ article Dzar anp Dump, for
information on this interesting subject; and also the article Dac-
TYLOLOGY, respecting manual alphabets. Engravines of manual
alphabets have been given in the ‘Penny Magazine, vol. ii. p. 500.
A portrait and memorr of the Abbé are also given in the ‘ Gallery
ot Portraits, No. 29.
‘him to preserve hithself for their sakes.
287,
follows that the blind can be taught to read by their
fingers, and the deaf and dumb to speak by their hands,
and to hear with their eyes. On this groundwork
M. de L’Epée commenced, and devoted himself to the
task of teaching the deaf and dumb. Some people
thought him a fool for his pains, and ridiculed his
labours, others pitied the infatuation of the good-
natured enthusiast, vainly, as they imagined, trying to
get access to minds shut up in prison. But neither
sneers nor pity stopped the labours of the worthy Abbé.
At last public opinion began to change; a clereyman
said to him one day, “ I formerly pitied you, I now pity
you no longer; you are restoring to society and to
religion beings who have been strangers to both.”
“One day,’ says M. de ’Epée, “‘a stranger came to
our public lesson, and offering me a Spanish book, said
that it would be a real service to the owner if {[ would
purchase tt. I answered, that as I did not understand
the language, it would be totally useless to me: but
opening it casually, what should J see but the manual
alphabet of the Spaniards neatly executed in copper-
plate! I wanted no fnrther inducement; I paid the
messenger his demand, and kept the book. I then
became impatient for the conclusion of the lesson; and
what was my surprise when I found this title, ‘ Arte
para ensefiar a hablar los Mudos.’ I had little diffi-
culty to guess that this signified ‘The Art of teaching
the Dumb to speak, and I immediately resolved to
acquire the Spanish language for the benefit of my
pupils.” ‘his book was Bonet’s, already mentioned.
M. de l’Epée’s attention was soon afterwards directed
to another book, written in Latin, by John Conrad
Amman, a Swiss physician, who resided at Haarlem,
and who, in 1690, had undertaken the instruction of a
girl, deaf and dumb from birth. ‘These two works
enabled him to form a system for himself, which, though
it was deficient in real usefulness, as compared with the
improvements Since made in this department of instruc-
tion, was yet abundantly successful.
But M. de ?Epée did more than devote his time and
labour to the instruction of the deaf and dumb. His
income was about 4007. a year. Of this, he allowed
about 100/. for his Own expenses, and he ‘“‘ considered
the remainder as the inheritance of his adopted chil-
dren—the indigent deaf and dumb—to whose use it
was faithfully applied. ‘The rich,’ says he, ‘only come
to my house by tolerance; it is not to them that I
devote myself—it is to the poor: but for these I should
never have undertaken the education of the deaf and
dumb.’ ‘Phere was no kind of privation which he did
not imposé on himself, for the sake of his pupils. In
order to supply their wants, he limited his own. So
strictly did he adhere to the appropriation which he had
inade of his income, that in the rigorous winter of 1788,
when suffering under the infirmities of age, he denied
himself fuel, in order not to intrench upon the mcderate
sum to which ke had confined his annual expenditure.
All the remonstrances of his friends on this point were
fruitless. His housekeeper having observed his rigid
restriction, ahd doubtless imputine it to his real motive,
led into his apattmeht his forty pupils, who conjured
He yielded
not without difficulty to thei persuasions, but after-
wards reproached hiinself for this concession. Having
exceeded his ordinary expenditure by about 300 livres
(about 122.) he would afterwards exclaim, in the midst
of his pupils; ‘ My poor children; I have wronged you of
an hundred trowns.’”
The Abbé, in his old age, and when the effects of his
labours were too conspicuous to be reviled, received
both approbation and flattery. The ambassador of
Catherine of Russia offered him rich presents. ‘* My
lord,” said the Abbé, “ I never receive gold; tell her
Majesty, that if my labours have appeared to her to
claim her esteem, all that I ask is, that she will send
288
me a deaf and dumb person, or a master to be in-
structed in this art of teaching.’ When the emperor
Joseph of Austria visited his institution, he expressed
his astonishment that a man so deserving had not ob-
tained at least an abbey, whose revenues he might
apply to the wants of the deafand dumb. He offered
to ask one for him, or even to give him one in his own
dominions. ‘I am already old,” said M. de l’Epée;
‘if yonr Majesty wishes well to the deaf and dumb, it
is not on my head, already bending to the tomb, that
the benefit must fall—it is on the work itself.”
The success of the Abbé de I’Epde was not complete,
but he pursued his methods with openness and can-
dour, and with the single desire of promoting the moral
and intellectual advancement of the deaf and dumb.
Heinecke of Leipzig, and Péreire of Paris, must be re-
earded as his rivals, but he invited them to a discussion
of the merits of the various systems, which they de-
clined: While the good Abbé, with that frankness
which formed a beautiful feature in his character, soli-
cited the examination and the judgment of the learned
upon his methods, his rivals shrouded their proceedings
under a veil of mystery. ‘The Abbé devoted his life
and whole fortune, excepting a bare supply for his own
wants, to the service of the class whom he had taken
under his protection. Péereire refused to disclose his
methods except for a large recompense; and Heinecke,
in addition to receiving payment-from the rich, had 400 |
THE PENNY MAGAZINE
[Jury 29, 1837,
Saxony. Both these persons made the art they pro-
fessed an interested speculation; the Abbé de l’Epée
only tolerated the rich; he was proud of being the in-
Structor of the indigent. His successor, the Abbé
Sicard, carried forward the principles of De PEpeée ;
he instructed his pupils in the elements of composition,
a branch of their education comparatively new, and in
which Sicard most completely evinced his superiority
over his master. Sicard at first conducted a school at
Bordeaux; on the death of the Abbé de l’Epée he was
called to fill his place at Paris.
The Abbe de l’Epée died on the 23rd of December,
1789. Various honours were paid to his memory ; the
king’s preacher pronounced his funeral oration; and
one of his deaf and dumb pupils wrote a distich to be
placed under the bust of his teacher :— :
“ Tl réveéle a la fois secrets merveilleux,
_ De parler par les mains, d’entendre par les yeux.”
The article already referred to, in the ‘ Penny Cyclo-
peedia,’ on the Dear and Dump (from which a portion
of the preceding information has been taken), contains
the following statement :— | a
Phere are S000 deaf mutes in Eneland; the insti-
tutions at present in operation are not capable of
educating more than 600. It is calculated that at least
one-eihth of the whole number are within the awe and
other qualifications generally prescribed for education.
It therefore seems necessary that more extended pro-
f
crowns annually allowed him by the grand duke of| visions should be made for their instruction.”
| |
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From Bout a rough mountain path traverses the
moors to Wastdale Head, passing a cheerless sheet of
water called Burnmoor Tarn, between Scawfell and the
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down to Bout forms a cascade, bare and unadorned by
enclosing precipices, yet possessing a character of gran-
deur, at all events when swollen by recent rains*. The
path leads high over the southern shoulder of Scawfell,
and then descends down a steep peat track into Upper
Wastdale, a little above the lake. The stranger, wishing
to see Wastwater, must not attempt to pass along the
side of the Screes, as the hill is called which forms the
southern side of the lake, from a provincial term sieni-
fying a crumbling slope of loose materials. Here the
declivity is so steep, and the slaty soil so incoherent, that
it is commonly said to be impossible to pass along it ;
aud the attempt would certainly be attended with
danger. ‘The views obtained by going along the top
* This 1s not mentioned in the guide-books which I have at
hand. I understood it to be called Buck- (pronounced Bouk-)
Pot; probably from a resemblance which the deep circular basin
into which the water falls may be fancied to bear tu a huge wash-
ing-tub. Buck is an old English word, synonymous with wash ;
as in the ‘ Merry Wives of Windsor,’ act ili, scene 3, where
Falstaff is hidden in a buck-basket, “ You were best meddle with
buck-washing.”
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of the Screes are said to be very fine. There is a hamlet
called Strands, a mile below the foot of Wastwater,
where the traveller will find quarters for the night:
there is nothing to induce him to proceed farther to-
wards the sea, except the ruin of Calder Abbey, which
is small but pretty.
Within some half an hour’s walk from Strands is a
remarkable spot, called Haul-gill, or else Hollow-gill.
It is a deep ravine at the south-west foot of the Screes,
among granite rocks, which, by the decomposition of
their felspar, have been wasted into abrupt peaks and
precipices—a sort of miniature mimicry of the aiguzlles
of Chamouni. This is one of the most curious and
striking things in the whole district: it is a good place
for ascending the Screes from Nether Wastdale (as the
valley below the lake is called) for those who have good
nerves. ‘There is a very beautiful vein of spicular iron
here; also some fine haematite. These particulars are
derived from a friend: I am not aware that this object
has ever before been pointed out to the attention of
travellers.
There is a simplicity and severity about Wastwater
not to be found in any of its neighbour lakes, except
perhaps that of Ennerdale, which is equally destitute of
the cheerfulness imparted by cultivation, but inferior in
2 ae
290
the height and ruggedness of its mountain boundaries.
Yet at ‘Wastwater, on a bright day, there is no want of
cheerfulness: the sides of the Screes, streaked with
brilliant hues of red and brown, like the changeable
colonrs of a pigeon’s neck, are beautiful in them-
selves, and contrast well with the grassy slopes of the
northern side. At the head of the lake the niural pre-
cipices of Scawfell rise near 3000 feet above the eye,
and rival the @randest scenes of the Scottish High-
lands. Not far above the lake, between Yewbarrow
and Kirkfell, lies Mosedale, closed to the north by the
Pillar. This is one of our loftier mountains, 2893 feet
in height; and, beine composed, like Scawfell, of the
hard slate of the middle formation, it presents to Enner-
dale a far grander front than is afforded by the soft
shale of Skiddaw, or even by the bolder precipices of
Saddleback or Helvellyn *.
The path up Mosedale, crossing a slack called Black
Sail, between the Pillar and Kirkfell, descends a rough
hill-side into Gillerthwaite, as the npper part of Enners
dale is called. A scene of more entire seclusion can
hardly be imagined. Not a sign of human life or
labour meets the eye. The head of the dale is closed
by Kirkfell and Gavel, and on the opposite side High
Stile and Red Pike part it from Buttermere. Fording
the river, we pursue the way to Buttermere over a
second lofty pass to the east of High Stile, called Scarf
Gup; cross the infant stream of the Cocker by a bridge,
and traversing a marshy but cultivated flat, reach a
beaten road again at the farm of Gatesearth, two miles
from Buttermere inn and church. ‘This route, from
Strands to Buttermere, includes as much variety and
beauty as can well be crowded into a four hours’ walk.
A horse may be taken over it in dry weather, but as
the hills are both soft and roneh, it will be prudent to
obtain the help of a @uide. Those who can walk will
find walking quicker and pleasanter than riding ; in-
deed a ood deal of the ground must be done ou foot.
About a mile of ground lies between Buttermere and
Crummock-water, which is near four miles long. Mel-
break lies on the west, and on the east Grasmoor, the
principal mountain of the cluster which separates this
vale from that of Keswick. About half a mile from
the head of the lake a torrent runs into it on the western
side, on which is Scale Force, the hivhest waterfall in
the country. Small as the stream is, except in time of
flood, it has eaten a deep ravine into the mountain.
The upper fall is an unbroken shoot, of which the
height is'said to be 156 feet: after circling in a small
basin, the water escapes by a second fall of thirty or
forty feet, and hurries down to the lake abont a mile
distant. The usual way of visiting it is by boat from
Scale Hill or Buttermere: there is however a footpath
from the village of Buttermere to the lower part of
Enunerdale, which aoes Close to the fall, and afterwards
past Bie ater Tarn. This will suit persons who wish to
see only the best partof Ennerdale. Quitting the path
near Floutern Tarn, they may strike the lake about its
centre, ald either follow Gillerthwaite to the passes
already described, or go direct over the Pillar into
Mosedale, and so to Strands.
A curious tarn, the stream from which is seen foain-
ine down the hill-side in a succession of falls, lies above
Buttermere, deep set in a hollow between Red Pike
and Hieh Style.
A third small lake, called Lowes-water, to the north
of Melbreak, combines with Buttermere and Crummock
to form the Cocker river, which runs into the Derwent
at Cockermouth, where there are extensive remains of
* ———- ‘Tt wears the shape
Of a vast building made of many crags,
And in the midst is one particular crag,
Which rises hike a column from the vale,
Whence by our shepherds it is called Lue Piiar.”—
Worosworrn’s ‘ Brothers,’
MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF
[J uLy 3],
the ancient castle. There is a good inn at Seale Hill,
near the foot of Crummock-water (where boats can be
procured to go up the lake), distant from Keswick
twelve miles by way of Lorton and the old road over
the pass of Whinlatter. In the churchyard of: Lorton
is a remarkable yew-tree,
¢¢
pride of Lorton Vale,
Which to this day stands single, in the midst
Of its own darkness, as it stood of yore,
Not loth to furnish weapons for the bands
Of Umfraville or Percy, ere they march’d
To Scotland’s heaths: or those that cross’d the sea,
And drew their sounding bows at Azincour 3
Perhaps at earlier Crecy, or Poictiers.
Of vast circumference, and gloom profound,
This solitary tree, a living thing,
Produced too slowly ever to decay 3
Of form and aspect too magnificent
To be destroy’d *.”
A country road which runs along the skirts of Whin-
latter, leaving Lorton to the west, will considerably
shorten the distance, on foot or horseback, from Scale
Hill to Keswick.
Between Wastwater and the lower part of Ennerdale
lies an extensive, desolate tract of moor and mountain.
The hills attain no great height, and possess little interest.
KKeswick stands npon a gentle slope, not half a mile
from the lower end of Derwentwater. By the census
of 1831 the township contained 2159 inhabitants; of
whom a considerable number is employed in the ma-
nufacture of woollen goods, pencils,'&c. The town
possesses two museums, Crosthwaite’s and Hutton’s,
aud there is an exhibition of views of the Lakes, painted
by a clever artist, some time since deceased, named
Green; who was perhaps more thoroughly acquainted
with all the windings of the country than any other
man, and wrote a Guide in two octavo volumes, which
is the most minute description extant of the country.
‘Lhe river Greta, issuing from St. John’s Vale, skirts the
base of Latrigs, a round-backed eminence to the sonth of
Skiddaw, and passes at the back of the town, supplying
water-power for the various manufactories: at the end
of the main street it is crossed by a bridge, and hastens
to join the Derwent, near the point where the latter
issues from the lake. ‘Their united streams are crossed
by a substantial two-arched bridge, a mile from Kes-
wick, on the road to Cockermouth. The lake acts as a
reservoir, and prevents the river from becoming !ow,
except after loug droughts; and on a hot day, its clear,
elancing’, rapid stream will tempt the wayfarer to linger
here. It runs on through an alluvial flat, about three
miles Jone, to Bassenthwaite. <A foot- -path, not very
easily followed by the stranger, traverses the fields on
its western bank, and crossing the river about a mile
above Bassenthwaite-wwater, ledils into the road from
Keswick to Wigton.
At the village of Portinscale, just beyond the bridge
above inentioned, the road ronnd Derwentwater turns
off from the Cockermouth road. After skirting the
ereen hill called Swinside, and the woods of Water-
end, lately the property of Lord William Gordon, it
crosses the broad opening of Newlands, and ascending
a steep short hill, passes at a considerable height along
the open side of Catbells, commanding one of tle best
views of the lake and valley. Crossing the river at the
village of Grange, the road back towards Keswick ties
under a romantic line of crag's, feathered with birch
and mountain ash. <A public-house, distant one mile
from Grange, warns us that we have reached the cele-
brated fail af Lodore, which lies immediately at the
back of the premises; and access (which is most con-
veniently obtained through the inn garden) used not to
be very graciously rranted unless an offering were made
“ for the o'ood of the house.” ‘This celebrated cataract
is in fact a succession of small distinct falls, down a long
* Wordsworth’s ‘Yew Trees,
1837.]
gully, half choked with fallen rocks; and as the broken
threadlike streamlets bear no proportion to the vastness
of the ravine, the first sensation of those who come
here to see a waterfall is likely to be disappointment.
Occasionally, in thaws and sndden floods, the torrent
sweeps with an unbroken front over all these obstacles ;
but the flush of water soon subsides. On either side,
walls of rock rise to an unusual height, thickly clothed
below, and fringed above with the usual native growth
of ash and birch. When the water is low, it is very
possible to pass up the chasm to the level of the upper
valley, which, however, may be at all times more easily
attained by a circuitons path a little to the south of the
inn. ‘The view of Derwentwater, backed by Skiddaw,
looking trom above, through the chasm, is very fine,
and has been a favourite subject with artists.
Barrow, the residence of Mr. Pocklington, is a mile
nearer Keswick: it is surrounded by fine old trees,
and has within the grounds a waterfall, of scanty volume
bnt considerable height, within a few yards of the
back of the house, and in full view of the windows.
After passing under Walla Crag, we come, a mile from
Keswick, to an insnlated woody knoll, called Castlelet,
which ts much visited, as lying within easy distance,
and commanding an excellent view up and down the
valley. Another favourite short walk is to Friars’ Crag,
a low bluff point, opposite to Derwent Island. The
circuit of the lake, by the carriage-road, is twelve miles.
Lord's Island, the largest in the lake, situated per-
haps an hundred yards from the shore, under Walla
Crag, was the stronghold of the powerful family of Rat-
cliffes, Earls of Derwentwater, whose possessions, it need
hardly be said, were forfeited after the Rebellion of 1715,
and transferred to Greenwich Hospital. The property
round Keswick was lately sold, and now belongs to
Mr. Marshall of Hallsteads, on Ullswater. The an-
cient seat of the Ratcliffes has long perished ; and the
island is occupied by a melancholy phalanx of spind-
line fir-trees. ‘The same ill-fortune has overtaken
St. Herbert's Island, which formerly boasted a noble
wrowth of venerable oaks: here St. Herbert, the con-
temporary and friend of St. Cuthbert in the seventh
century, is said to have fixed his hermitage. Derwent
(or, as it was formerly called, having belonged to
Fountains Abbey, Vicars) Island is occupied by the
house and grounds-of General Peachy, and richly
wooded with chesnut, beech, and various kinds of pine,
chiefly planted by the present proprietor. The trees
have thriven remarkably, and attained an amplitude of
girth and Inxuriance of foliage, such as rarely eladden
the planter’s eye. ‘There are three or four more islands,
or islets, (Rampsholm, Lingholm, &c.) which are beau-
tiful in themselves; but their number gives an un-
pleasant spottiness to the lake when viewed from a
height. ‘The celebrated Floating Island, near the
south-eastern corner of the lake, is a portion of the
peaty bottom, which, from some cause not very clearly
explained, occasionally rises to the surface. ‘The most
probable supposition ts, that the mass is swollen and
buoyed up by gas, produced vy the decomposition of
veveiable matter. On piercing it with a boat-hook, eas
(carbureted hydrogen and azote) issues in abundance.
Almost all the lakes and streams of the country are
remarkable for the extreme limpidity, purity, and soft--
ness of their waters, which render them most delightful
to the swiminer. In these qualities the lakes and river
of this vale are pre-eminent.
Behind the village of Grange, in the gorge of Bor-
rowdale, rises a high and nearly detached rock, called
Castle Crag, the site of an ancient fortification, sup-
posed to be Roman, of which the traces are now
obliterated by the working of the slate quarry. On
the western side, the bed of the river alone separates it
from the opposing hills ; and through this narrow pass
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
291
the road from Keswick into Borrowdale runs. It is
the most picturesque part of this most lovely valley. .
A new road has been cut lately, near the bed of the
river, avoiding the ups and downs of the old way, which
led past the celebrated Bowder Stone, the largest known
detached fragment of rock in Britain. Which is the
more beautiful it is hard to say: I should recommend
the old road in going wp the valley on foot or horse-
back, aud the new one in going down it. Beyond the
hamlet of Rosthwaite (where there is a small honse of
entertainment, the last in the valley), six miles from Kes-
wick, the valley divides into two branches, that to the left
being called Stonethwaite, that to the right, Seathwaite.
Following the latter, which is the principal, we come,
two miles from Rosthwaite, to a large substantial farm-
honse, called Seatollar, by which a rough monntain-
road diverges to the right, and, passing under Honister
Crag, descends upon Buttermere. A mile-bevond Sea-
tollar the Black-lead (or, as it is provincially termed,
“ Wad”) Mine indicates its position, high on the hill-
side, by those unsightly heaps of rubbish which always
attend mining operations. The mineral is found pure
and fit for market; and, in consequence of the tempta-
tion to plunder afforded by its value* and small bulk,
is not allowed to be sold on the spot: the whole pro-
duce is barrelled, and sent up to the warehonse of the
proprietors in London, Under the mine, and rather
nearer to Seatollar, a dark spot is seen in the copse-
wood, which thus far clothes the hill. ‘These are the
celebrated Borrowdale Yews, four in number, not to
meution some smaller ones. Among them one is pre-
eminent, which, being in the vigour of its age, and un-
decayed, ranks among the finest specimens of its kind
in England?t. The Lorton Yew is larger, and that
in Patterdale churchyard may equal or exceed this in
size ;—but they have lost the mighty limbs, and dark
umbrageous foliage, contrasting’ so well with the rich
chesnut-coloured trunk, which are here still to be seen
In mature perfection. Mr. Wordsworth, in his * Yew
‘Trees,’ after commemorating that of Lorton, continues,
“ Worthier still of note
Are those fraternal Four of Borrowdale,
Join’d in one solemn and capacious grove ;
Huge trunks !—aund each particular trunk a growth
Of intertwisted fibres serpentine
Up-coiling, and inveterately convolved,—
Nor uninform’d with Phantasy, and looks
That threaten the profane ;—a pillar’d shade,
Upon whose yrassless floor of red-brown hue,
By sheddings from the pining umbrage tinged
Perenmially—beneath whose sable roof
Of boughs, as if for festal purpose, deck’d
* With unrejoicing berries, ghustly Shapes
May meet at noontide—Fear and trembling Hope,
Silence and Foresight—Death the Skeleton,
And Time the Shadow,—there to celebrate,
As in a natural temple scatter’d o'er
With alrars undisturb’d of mossy stone,
United worship ; or in mute repose
To he, and lsten to the mountain-flood
Murmuring from Glaramara’s { inmost caves.”
At the hamlet of Seathwaite wood and cultivation
end: the road, now reduced to a horse-track, follows the
rapidly-ascending bed of the stream for a mile farther,
and then, turning sharp over a little bridge, thrown
across that branch of the Grange river which comes
* The better qualities have formerly been worth from thirty to
forty shillings a pound: what may be the present value, to tha
proprietors, we do not know.
+ The Ankerwyke Yew, near Staines, exceeds it in size, and
may equal it iu beauty, if still in the condition described in the
‘Penny Cyclopedia,’ article Acr or Trers. This tree 1s said to
have been in existence in the reign of King John. Norbury
Park, near Leatherhead, contains a number of enormous yews,
which Fuseli called the Grove of the Furies. The impressive
situation in which the Borrowdale Yews stand no doubt adds
much to their effect.
t A part of the Borrowdale Fells, above Rosthwaite, between
Seathwaite and Langstreth,
2P 2
292
down from Ash Course, begins immediately to mount
Sty Head. But Stockley Bridge, as it is called, will
detain our attention for a time, as a perfect miniature
model of*a bridge and waterfall. It is a rough stone
arch, apparently wedged rather than cemented together,
hardly two yards in span, or one in breadth, with no
parapet except a slight elevation of the outer stones on
either side, between which there seems hardly room for
a horse to plant his feet. It is thrown over a rocky
cleft, ten or twelve feet above the stream, with a small
glittering cascade above, and a sea-green pool below ;
for the purest spring is not more free from taint of
moss, than the water which descends from these hills.
Small as it is, this is one of the most perfect specimens
left of those native bridges, the gradual disappearance
of which Mr. Wordsworth laments *.
The height of Sty Head above the valley is said by
Mr. Baines (‘ Companion to the Lakes’) to be 1250
feet: this, however, is its height above the sea; its
height above Stockley Bridge probably does not exceed
750 or 800 feet. At the top of the first ascent isa
small plain, in which lies a narrow sheet of water, called
Sty Head Tarn. Beyond it, the road still rises, until
turning a sharp point of rock, with a chasm at our feet,
Wastdale lies in view more than a thonsand feet below ;
while in front the precipices of the Pikes rise double
that height. The grandeur of the scene is enhanced
by the suddenness with which it comes into view, and
by a nervous sensation which the stranger, especially if
on horseback, will be likely to experience ; for he seems
to hang over the precipice, so uarrow is the path that
winds among the crags which here crest the declivity.
On the Wastdale side of Gavel garnets abound in the
hard flinty slate.
Sty Head Tarn is fed by a rill from Sprinkling Tarn,
the source of one branch of the Grange river, which lies
some hundred feet higher, under the broad front of Great
End. ‘To Sprinkling Tarn, or with care, even to Ash
Course, horses may be taken in the ascent of the Pikes.
Passing south of the tarn, we proceed eastward up the
hill-side towards Ash Course, where this route unites
with the shorter and more direct one, which follows the
water up from Stockley Bridge. Leaving Great End
behind, we soon gain the ridge of the mountain, at an
elevation not much inferior to that of the Pikes them-
selves; but two or three deep hollows are to be crossed
before we reach the highest point, which is distinguished
by a lofty pile of stones and wood. Such piles of stone
are raised by the country-people on every prominent
poiit, almost without exception, and called men: this
one, however, having been raised for the trigonometrical
survey, is of unusual height, and is surmounted by three
tall fir-poles, bound together, which, from the vale below,
look like a single walking-stick. ‘These ups and downs
are very tantalising, for most persons have had enough
of climbing by the time they have come thus far; and
the more so, as the walking is laborious, the top of the
mountain, from Great End to the Pikes, being covered
by a mass of angular disjointed blocks, and those not
* «Scenery of Lakes,’ p.53. “To the smallness of the several
properties is owing the great number of bridges over the brooks
and torrents, and the daring and graceful neglect of danger or
accommodation with which so many of them are constructed, the
rudeness of the forms of some, and their endless variety. But
when I speak of this rudeness, I must at the same time add, that
many of these structures are in themselves models of elegance, as
if they had been formed upon principles of the most thoughtful
architecture. Itis to be regretted that these monuments of the
skill of our ancestors, and of that happy instinct by which con-
summate beauty was produced, are disappearing fast: but suffi-
cient specimens remain to give a high gratification to the man of
genuine taste. Travellers who may not have been accustomed to
pay attention to things so inobtrusive will excuse me if I point
out the proportion between the span and elevation of the arch, the
lightness of the parapet, and the graceful manner in which its
curve follows faithfully that of the arch.” > —
MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF
[JuLy 3]
always steady under foot. Much care is necessary, for
a slip into the interstices, or a fall among their sharp
angles, might very easily lead to a broken bone, which
would be peculiarly inconvenient here. The last hollow
is the deepest; and as we rest on its edge, the opposite
ascent seeins almost perpendicular. Yet all, even of
the lady visiters (few enough in number) who come
this way, will muster up strength enough for the last
climb, severe as it is, which is to place them on the
highest English mountain, and that one which com-
mands the noblest view. None even of the loftier
Scottish mountains, which I have been able to ascend,
is equal in this respect.. Much of its grandeur it
owes to being environed by mountains of almost equal
heioyht,—to the north Great End and Gavel, to the east
Bowfell, to the south Scawfell. Beyond and between
them countless peaks and ridges extend on all sides,
except to the west, where is stretched the vast expanse
of the Irish Sea. On either side the precipices which
descend into Eskdale and Wastdale appear of fearful
depth; indeed, the finest object in this sublime view is
perhaps the precipice of the sister mountain of Scaw-
fell. The whole coast, from Anglesey to the Mull
of Galloway is visible; half way between which rise
the lofty hills of the Isle of Man; and in days of extra-
ordinary clearness, such as that in which the writer
first stood here—one of those rare days, when there is
neither haze in the air, nor cloud in the sky, when the
sea puts on its deepest azure, and every wave dances
and sparkles in the sun—the blue hills of Ireland may
be dimly seen.
‘On the summit of the Pike,” says Mr. Wordsworth,
“which we gained after much toil, though without dif-
ficulty, there was not a breath of air to stir even the
papers containing our refreshment as they lay spread
out upon a rock. The stillness seemed not to be of this
world; we paused and kept silence to listen, and no
sound could be heard; the Scawfell cataracts were
voiceless to us, and there was not an insect to hum in
the air. The vales which we had seen from Ash-course
lay still in view; and side by side with Eskdale we now
saw the sister vale of Donnerdale terminated by the
Duddon sands. But the majesty of the mountains
below and close to us is not to be conceived. We now
beheld the whole mass of Great Gavel from its base—
the Den of Wastdale at our feet—a gulph immea-
surable: Grassmoor, and the other monntains of Crum-
mock—Ennerdale and its mountains—and the sea
beyond. We sat down to our repast, and gladly would
we have tempered our beverage (for there was no spring
or well near us) with such a supply of delicious water
as we might have procured, had we been on the rival
summit of Great Gavel; for on its highest point is a
small triangular receptacle in the native rock, which
the shepherds say is never dry. ‘There we might have
slaked our thirst plenteously with a pure and celestial
liquid ; for the cup or basin, it appears, has no other
feeder than the dews of heaven, the showers, the va-
pours, the hoar-frost, and the spotless snow.
‘* Round the top of Scawfell Pike not a blade of
erass is to be seen. Cushions or tufts of moss, parched
and brown, appear between the huge blocks and stones
that lie in heaps on all sides to a ereat distance, like
skeletons or bones of the earth not needed at the crea-
tion, and there left to be covered with never-dying
lichens, which the clouds and dews nourish, and adorn
with colours of vivid and exquisite beauty. Flowers,
the most brilliant feathers, and even gems, scarcely
surpass in colouring some of those masses of stone,
which no human eye beholds, except the shepherd or
traveller be led thither by curiosity.”
Scawfell is separated from the Pikes by a deep chasm,
called Mickledoor, at the bottom of which a narrow
‘ ridge, like the roof of a house, slopes into Eskdale on
1837.]
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[Fall on / as which runs from Sty Head Tarn into Borrowdale. |
one side, and into Wastdale on the other. So far all is
easy; but the ascent of Scawfell from this point ought
not to be undertaken without a guide well acquainted
with the practicable passes of this mountain. It is en-
compassed by precipices, varied with narrow terraces of
turf, and slanting sheets of naked rock ; and a stranger
might chance to find himself entrapped into some
place, where to go backwards or forwards would be
equally difficult and dangerous. Never having had a
guide on the Pikes, and thinking it inexpedient to try
niy chance alone, I never faced the climb from Mickle-
door upwards. For the following account [ am indebted
to a friend :—‘‘ There are two ways from Mickledoor to
Scawfell—one is on the east side of Scawfell. I could
not persuade my cuide, a shepherd of Upper Wastdale,
to conduct me by it; the other, on the north face of:
Scawfell Iwent by. It is very laborious, and looks
dangerous; but, in fact, there is no risk except that of
a sprained ankle. It is through the Lord’s Rake, a
shaft between two vertical walls of rock, about five
yards across all the way up, and twenty or twenty-five
minutes’ hard climbing on all fours up a slope of about
45°. ‘The place must have been cut out by a water-
course; butit isnow dry and covered with light shingle.
It looks right down into Hollow Stones (the deep vale
between the Pikes and Scawfell), and most fearful it
does look; but it is not dangerous. When we reached
the inn at Eskdale, over Scawfell, my shepherd was
very proud of having brought me through the Lord’s
Rake, and the people were much surprised. It seems
to be rather a feat in the country. It is the strangest
place I ever saw. J think there is no indication of it
from the outside. It may be recommended to all who
can bear hard labour, and enjoy the appearance of
danger without the reality.”
If the traveller be bound from the Pikes into Esk-
dale, a direct and practicable descent may be found by
way of Mickledoor; or a tolerably straight course may
be shaped from the Pikes either into Wastdale or, if the
traveller be returning to Keswick, back to Sty Head
by the western side of the mountain, leaving Great Kind
to the right, and keeping farther down ‘the hill-side
than would at first seem necessary, to avoid some deep
and apparently impassable ravines, which run out from
among the crags of Great End. ‘These oblige him to
descend below the level of Sty Head.
From Ash Course, an hour well used will take the
walker, in a different direction, to the head of Langdale:
the way lies past Angle Tarn, under the northern pre-
cipice of Bowfell. The best ‘descent into Lanedale ts
down a steep rugged gully, called Rosset Gill. The
circuit from Keswick to Ambleside by Sty Head, the
Pikes, Ash Course, and Langdale, may be reckoned at
thirty miles, and lies throughout among the finest
scenery of the country.
Stonethwaite, the eastern division of Borrowdale, is
subdivided into two branches, of which the eastern,
called Greenup, leads into the fells towards the head of
Easdale, and so communicates with Grasmere ; while
the Langstreth, which is the priucipal branch, turns
south, ae running parallel to Seathwaite, Is Meer by
the precipice which towers over Angle Tarn, the head
of this branch of the Derwent. The high rock which
terminates the range of hills between Langstreth and
Greenup 1s called Eagle Crag. The lower part of
Seathwaite is beautifully wooded. Langstreth lies high,
294
and is of wilder character. {iittle wood remains in it;
but the scattered hollies, left here and elsewhere in
former times to furnish winter browsing for the sheep,
testify to the once sylvan aspect of the dale. About
three miles up, a gill dashes down the hill-side from
the left, and a sheep-pen marks its point of junction
with the main stream. Here the ill-tracked path turns
away from the main valley, to cross the lofty pass called
the Stake into Langdale. Steep, green, and zigzae,
distinguishable from the rest of the hill-side chiefly by
the closeness and fresh green of the turf, it follows the
stream, sometimes in perilous proximity, and ushers us
upon a boggy moor, a mile perhaps in extent ; on cross-
ing which, we conimmence a still steeper, rougher, and
longer descent into Lanedale, leaving to the left the
western Lanedale pike, called Pike of Stickle. Here
we return to ground which has been already described.
One of the most interesting excursions from Kes-
wick is the circuit. by Newlands, Buttermere and Bor-
rowdale. South of Swinside the road to Buttermere
turns away from that which encircles the lake, and
skirting Cawsey Pike begins to ascend Newlands. ‘The
principal hills on the opposite side are called Hinds-
earth and Robinson Crag. ‘The descent into Butter-
mere is steep and long, as has been said before; and
the road runs, at a height alarming to weak nerves,
above the ravine which separates this from the opposite
hill, called Whitelees. Soon after passing Gatesearth
we begin to ascend again, leaving to the south Honister
Crag, which rises 1500 feet above the vale of Butter-
mere. Here slate quarries have been extensively worked.
A deep depression in the Borrowdale fells conducts us
to Seatollar, four miles from Gatesgarth and eight from
Keswick.
from the roughness of the road. ‘Those, more espe-
cially, who can neither walk nor ride over the loftier
passes will find their account in traversing this noble
route. ‘The whole day’s journey is estimated at twenty-
three miles.
The stream which forms the waterfall of Lodore
comes from a small upland valley called Watendlath,
well worth a visit. The hamlet of that name is on the
border of a beautiful circular little lake, about two
miles from Lodore; the road thither from Keswick
turns from the lake side beyond Walla Crag, and
passes just behind Barrow House. <A pretty rustic
bridge crosses the stream where it issnes from the tarn,
aud leads over the Borrowdale fells to Rosthwaite.
This is a very pleasant morning’s ride from Keswick ;
it nay be varied, on foot, by turning to the left instead
of the right at Watendlath, and crossing the Wythburn
fells to Thirlmere, also called Leatheswater, distant
about four miles from Watendlath, over rough, hea-
thery, trackless hills, which on a fine day, especially
when the heath is in blossom, make a wild and de-
lightful walk. Thirlmere, a long, dark, narrow lake,
Is nearly cut in two by two opposite capes, joined
by a wooden bridge. ‘The water here is commonly
fordable for horses. Near the sixth milestone from
Keswick a track leads from the high-road to this point,
and the traveller from Ambleside will do well to fol-
low it for the sake of seeing the lower, and far most
beautiful, part of the lake, which is hidden from the
high-road by an intervening wooded hill, called the
How. The black higeh rock, like a round tower, at the
end of the lake, is Raven Crag. We rejoin the turn-
pike road on Shoulthwaite Moss, four miles from Kes-
wick, having missed nothing by the diversion (which
does not lengthen the way more than a mile), except
the view down the vale of St. John, throueh which,
after issuing from Thirlmere, the Greta flows, with its
Castle Rock and long vista of crags, closed by the
MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF
The pass from Buttermere to Borrowdale is_
just practicable for a car or cart, but very fatiguing
[JuLy 3],
pretty poem, the ‘ Bridal of Triermain.’ The low rocky
hill which intervenes between Shoulthwaite Moss and
St. John’s Vale is called Naddle (or more properly
Nathdale) Fell. Soon after crossing the moss the road
begins to mount a long hill called Castlerige, from the
brow of which a noble view over the vale of Keswick
expands before us. ‘This is the prospect of which Gray
speaks in such rapturous terms.
The ascent of Skiddaw is long but easy: a lady may
ride to the top and down again without even dismount-
ing. Itis the fourth English mountain in height, being
3022 feet above the sea, and 2800 above the lake of
Bassenthwaite, which hes close at its foot. In respect
of view, it is inferior to several points of smaller height,
owmeg to its position nearly on the outside of the moun-
tain district, and the absence of crags and precipices
on the mountain itself. The gradual opening of the
vale of Keswick, as we ascend, is however extremely
beautiful; and the view is finer three quarters up, than
on the summit. To the north and east a large tract
of low moor extends; and the northern distance also js
tame and level. The top of Skiddaw is formed by a
ridge, which runs north and south abont half a mile,
with no great difference of elevation. The hichest
point visible from Keswick and Derwentwater is not
the summit, but the southern end of this ridge.
I once witnessed with three companions an atmo-
spheric phenomenon on this mountain, rare in King-
land, but not unfamiliar it is said on the Hartz moun-
tains in Germany, where its occnrrence is supposed
to have given rise to the superstitious legends of the
Giant of the Brocken. We set out late ina fine Aneust
might to reach the top of Skiddaw before sunrise: there
was m0 moon, but the stars shone brilliantly, and as
we rose up the steep Inll-side overhanging Apple-
thwaite, the lake and valley became slowly more and
more distinct in the cold leaden hue of early twilight.
As often happens after the finest nights, the floating
vapours were suddenly condensed, and by the time we
reached the table-land near the top, we were enveloped
in a thick white mist, cold and uncomfortable, which
confined our sight to a circle of a few yards diameter.
Snddenly the white fog took a beautiful rose colour,
produced probably, like the last hues of evening, by the
greater refractive power of the red rays, as the first
beams of the sun shot above the horizon. This very
soon vanished. One of the party was a short distance
in advance, when a ray of sunshine darted through the
mist, and he saw a figure walking ten or fifteen yards
distant from his side. Taking it for granted that this
was one of his companions, whom he had snpposed at
some distance, he vented some expression of disappoint-
ment; and receiving no answer, repeated and repeated
it again. Still there was no answer, though the ficure
kept steadily advancing with even steps. At last he
stopped, half angry, and turned quite round to look at
his silent companion, who did the same, but receded as
he approached ; and it became evident that the figure,
apparently dimly seen through the mist, was his own
shadow reflected on it. It was then surrounded by a
bright halo, and as the light became stronger, orew
less and less distinct. ‘The rest of the party came up in
tine to witness this remarkable appearance with sOme
modification. On reaching the ridge of the mountain,
our figures, of super-human size, appeared to be pro-
jected on the mist in the direction of the Solway.
The tract of moor which lies between Skiddaw and
Saddleback, bounded by High Pike and Carrock on the
north, is called Skiddaw Forest; it is traversed by the
upper part of the Caldew river. In Bowscale Fell, as the
northern part of the great mass of Saddleback is called,
lies Bowscale ‘Tarn, which sends a tributary to the
Caldew. This tarn is the seat of a singular snperstition,
precipices of Saddleback. This is the scene of Scott’s | being supposed (or perhaps we should say, having been
1837.]
supposed) by the country people to be inhabited by
two immortal fish *. Mr. Wordsworth does not tell us
in what fairy tale of transformation, or in what other
way the belief originated. Saddleback itself is a round-
shoulcered mountain of great extent, but no beauty of
furin, except as seen from the south, where the serrated
precipices above ‘Threlkeld rival those of Helvellyn.
One of these is called Razor Edge, over which there is
a magnificent view. Another noticeable point is the
top of that wild ravine, down which the great water-
spout, many years ago, descended upon Threlkeld,
sweeping away part of the village. I¢ is still a strange
scene of ruin; and its effect is increased by a singular
twist, caused by some convulsion, in the dip of the strata.
The view down into Scales Tarn, deep-seated among
crags, is awfully grand. In fact Saddleback, though
not ascended by one person for ten that go up Skiddaw,
is better worth the ascent.
the course of the Greta between Keswick and the
foot of Saddleback is very beautiful, and little seen,
except by very leisurely travellers. It lies quite in the
way of an excursion up Saddleback.
The circuit from Keswick round Bassenthwaite lake
is eighteen miles long. About three miles from Kes-
wick the highroad is joined by a bridle-road from
Threlkeld to Bassenthwaite, which crosses Latrige,
and goes over the side of Skiddaw, and through the
pretty hamlet of Applethwaite. It commands beautiful
views of the valley, and is of ready access from Keswick
by the bridle-way up Skiddaw. The same road com-
municates with a peat-track, which goes towards Skid-
daw Forest, at a dizzy height along the side of Lonscale
Fell, as that offset of Skiddaw is called which presents
so bold a front to Saddleback. In dry weather a com-
plete circuit of Skiddaw may be made this way, on
horseback, returning by Bassenthwaite. <A high wild
waterfall, whose name I forget, unmentioned in the
guide-books, lies on or near the path, to the north of
Skiddaw, where the waters take their first leap out of
the forest. Over Water, farther on in the vale of
Bassenthwaite, is a marshy uninteresting pool. A
rough carriage-road from Keswick to Wigton, distant
twenty-two miles, passes through the village of Bassen-
thwaite, and immediately begins to ascend a steep hill,
called Bassenthwaite Hawse, which commands noble
views up the vale of the Derwent, and of the Solway,
and the hills of Dumfriesshire.
Lhe pyramidal hill which rises to the west of Kes-
wick, above Braithwaite, and over the old Cocker-
mouth road, is called Grisedale Pike. Though only
2680) feet in heieht, it merits a visit quite as much
as Skiddaw, than which it commands, I think, a finer
view. ‘hose who love wild scenery will find much
pleasure in continuing their walk along the ridge which
connects Grisedale Pike with Grassmoor, returning to
Keswick over Cawsey Pike, which may very well be
done between breakfast and dinner. ‘The views of
the ‘Buttermere, Ennerdale, Wastdale, and Borrowdale
mountains are extremely g'ood.
It is impossible to fix the time which a tour of the
Lakes requires: a fortnight is enough to see -the lead-
ing features,—three months is not too much to become
acquainted with them. Every dale has its peculiar
character, and every mountain will repay the trouble of
a visit; but there are few, of course, who have time or
wish for so minute a survey.
What is the best time of year for a visit to the
Lakes ?—is another question of interest to the traveller,
* « —__ Both the undying fish that swim
In Bowscale Tarn did wait on him;
The pair were servants of his eye
In their immortality ;
They moved about in open sight,
To and fro for his delight.”—
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
EE
295
which it is not easy to answer. Mr. Wordsworth,
whose long residence and close observation of the
natural phenomena of this land of his choice, entitle
his opinion to the highest weimht, recommends the
Space between the middle or last week in May, and
the middle or last week in June, in preference to the
months of July and August, “as affording the best
combination of long days, fine weather, and variety of
impressions. Few of the native trees are then in full
leaf; but for whatever may be wanting in depth of
shade, more than an equivalent will be found in the
diversity of foliage, in the blossoms of the fruit and
berry-bearing trees which abound in the woods, and in
the golden flowers of the broom and other shrubs, with
which many of the copses are interveined. In those
woods also, and on those mountain-sides which have a
northern aspect, and in the deep dells, many of the
spring flowers still linger; while the open and sunny
places are stocked with the flowers of approaching
summer.’ The disadvantages of July and August
are, first, the probability of wet weather, which often
sets in with such violence and perseverance as to put
all pleasurable expectations to flight; secondly, if the
weather he fine, the probability of a lone-continued
drought, which dries the water-courses, fills the air
with haze, and diffuses a leaden uniform colour over
everything, which deprives the country of half its
beauty. Mr. Wordsworth, page 88, has weiehed tle
objections to the several seasons, and their correspen-
dent advantages: the question is one of the less prac-
tical importance, because the period of travelling is :
seldom left quite free to the traveller's choice. Autumn
is certainly the-time to see the country to the best ad-
vantage; for the mountain-sides glow with a richer
colouring than even the woods, when the early frosts
have nipped the fern; and before the middle of October
it may be confidently expected that some passing storm
will robe the hills in snow. But at this time the pedes-
trian will be liable to be benighted in his longer ex-
cursions ; and he will have to exchange the pleasure of
his twilight strolls for a dull evening over the inn fire.
After all, he that carries with him good health and a
eood temper, cannot go much amiss as to time: one
season may be better than another, but each has its
peculiar merits as well as demerits. E:ven the stormiest
are most likely to present those occasional revelations
of erandeur, which are remembered with delight, height-
ened rather than impaired, in the retrospect, by the
recollection of the inconveniences with which they were
purchased*. And not unfrequently, when apparently
* For a description of one of those wonderful atmospherical
phenomena, which occur oftenest in stormy weather, see that
splendid passage in the ‘ Excursion, book i1., near the end:—
—__—__— “A step,
A single step, that freed me from the skirts
Of the blind vapour, open’d to my view
Glory beyond all zlory ever seen
By waking sense or by the dreaming soul.
The appearance instantaneously disclosed
Was of a mighty city—boldly say
A wilderness of building, sinking far
And self-withdrawn into a wondrous depth.
Far sinking into splendour—without end!
Fabric it seem’d of diamond and of gold,
With alabaster domes and silver spires,
And blazing terrace upon terrace high
Uplifted ; here serene pavilions bright,
In avenues disposed; there towers beyvirt
With battlements that on their restless fronts
Bore stars—illumination of all gems!
By earthly nature had the effect been wrought
Upon the dark material of the storin
Now pacified; on them, and on the coves
And mountain-steeps and summits, whereunto
The vapours had receded, taking there
Their station under a cerulean sky.”
The passage is continued in the same grand strain to a consi-
Song at the Feast of Brougham Castle, ‘ derable length.
296
at the worst, the weather suddenly mends; and on a
black rainy morning, when the tourist has been sum-
moning resignation to get through a dull day at his
inn, a gleam of light will perhaps shoot through the
mist, the clouds begin to break under the influence of
the sun, and roll slowly in light fleecy masses up the
sides of the mountains. ‘The atmosphere then assumes
a transparency and brightness never incident to settled
weather, and the landscape is enlivened by a variety of
lieht and shade, and a harmonious contrast of colour-
ing, which can only be enjoyed in a moist climate.
In winter the country. fully maintains its character
for beauty: I have heard residents of refined taste
assert that ifs superiority over other parts of Iengland
is at that season most perceptible. ‘The colouring,
though less strongly marked, ts hardly less varied than
in autumn; and the snow, which commonly robes the
higher peaks in spotless white, shaded off into brown
and olive as it mixes lower down with the grass and
heather, has, in the novelty as well as beauty of its
effect, a double charm. to the unaccustomed eye. The
objections to winter travelling, as a matter of pleasure,
are obvious and: insurmountable; but those who have
occasion to pass near the lakes in mid-winter will be
well rewarded for devoting a few days to the becoming
acquainted with them under a different aspect.. Der-
wentwater is not unfrequently frozen, and in that
state affords to the skater a delightful enjoyment.
We hope next spring to resume this series of articles
on British scenery, with some account. of the beautiful
vallevs of the north of Yorkshire; still it will not be
irrelevant to devote our small remaining space to a very
concise catalogue of those portions of the north of Eng-
land which may be best seen on the way to and from
the Lakes. -In-approaching them on the west, the
whole vale of Lune, from Lancaster to Kirby Lons-
dale, the first stage from Kendal towards Leeds, is
well worth the attention of those who can deviate from
the direct route; especially the Crook of Lune and the
neighbourhood of Hornby Castle. Ingleton, the next
stage on the way to Leeds, at the foot of Ingleborough,
has some curious scenery around it, especially the caves
of Yordas, Weathercote, &c. East of Settle, eleven miles
from Ingleton, lie Malham Cove and Gordale Scar,
two of the most remarkable spots in England, already
described in the ‘Penny Magazine’ for 1833, No. 72.
Wharfdale, still more to the east, is beautiful from its
source in the moors to Otley and Harewood, a few
miles from Leeds. The grounds of Bolton Abbey are
the gem of this valley.
The eastern road to Carlisle, by Leeminglane, Stain-
moor, and Penrith, skirts a lovely country. There
is some pretty scenery between Penrith and Appleby,
and the wild road over Stainmoor is striking and
pleasant on a fine day. ‘Teesdale, north of the road,
from Cross Fell to Wycliff, below Barnard Castle,
with its two waterfalls, is perhaps the finest of these
Yorkshire valleys. At Greta Bridge, on the high road,
lies the well-known scenery of Rokeby. At Cat-
terick Bridge the Swale is crossed, about three miles
below Richmond. Swaledale has some pretty scenery,
but is inferior to Wensleydale, the next valley to the
south, which is traversed by the river Ure, and extends
westward nearly to Ingleborough. Aysgarth Force and
Jervaulx Abbey are the most remarkable objects in it.
Lower down, on the banks of the Ure, near Rippon,
stands Fountains Abbey, which needs no praise. Rip-
pon Minster is a fine specimen of our early ecclesias-
tical architecture. From Rippon there is a double
communication with the south, either by Borough-
bridge and the York road, or by Harrowegate, Hare-
wood, and Leeds. Knaresborough possesses some ob-
Jects of curiosity, but to go out of the way for it on the
way back from the north would be hardly worth while.
MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT.
{JuLy 31, 1337.
Of the numerous guide-books extant on the subject,
Green's ‘ Guide to the Lakes’ is, I believe, inferior to
none in accuracy, and superior to all in minuteness of
information; it is, however, too bniky for a pocket
companion. Mr. Wordsworth’s ‘ Description of the
Scenery of the Lakes,’ from which we have so largely
quoted, is not intended for a euide, but should be read
by all persons, for the author’s general view of the
moral and physical circumstances of the country: it is
very short. Baines’s ‘ Companion to the Lakes’ is
portable and accurate, and lively in its descriptions.
But those who want directions and not descriptions,
shonld procure the ‘ Guide’ of Mr. Otley, watchmaker,
of Keswick; whose short and sensible notices wil]
send the tourist, without fail, to the things best worth
seeing. is pocket-map has been my constant com-
panion, and [ can testify to its accuracy, except in
one or two points, which have probably been corrected
in later editions ;—an accuracy really wonderful, con-
sidering the smallness of the scale, and such as to
render it a trustworthy guide across the hills. From
this source, and the ‘ Geography of the British Islands,’
No. L., published by the, Society for the Diffusion of
Useful Knowledge, the following table of heights has
been chiefly formed :— . :
Feet.
ABOVE THE SRA.
Scawfell Pikes. : 4 : ‘ 3160
Scawfell “a : e r e e 3100
Helvellyn Saas . _ , ; 3070
- Skiddatv ; *, P ° ‘ : 3022
Fairfield (Baines) , ‘ ° 2950
Gavel. : Z ‘ ° ; “e an (RS
Bowfell , : ° ; - ‘ 2911
Cross Fell : ; : - ; 2901
Pillar 4 e e e e e 2893
Saddleback ,. : F : ; 2789
High Street (Baines) . o\, Bees 2700
Grassmoor 7 ; ; : 2756
Grisedale Pike ’. r F : 2680
Coniston Old Man . s \. = 2577
Harrison Stickle ef ; 2400
Pike of Stickle { Langdale Eke 7 « + 2000
Carrock Pike -_— . : ; 2290
Cawsey Pike .. . ; : : 2040
Black Comb ; 3 ° ‘ j 1919
Honistar Crag (Baines) , . ° 1700
Catbells 5 , 4 ‘ é 1400
Pass of Sty Head. ‘ : ° 1250
Pass of Kirkstone (Baines) . ; ; 1200
Latrige . os ; ‘ 1160
Loughrigg Fell (Baines) . ; ‘ 1050
Dunmail Raise (Baines) . ; ; 720
In YorkKsHire. |
Wharnside . : : 5 ‘ 2385
Ingleborough, rather less, ° °
Pendle Hill . , ; : ; 1803
Heicanr or Lakes ABOVE THE SEA.
Red Tarn (Helvellyn) . : : , 2400
Sprinkling Tarn (Borrowdale) . ‘ 1900
Hawes Water ‘ ‘ : ‘ 714
Thirlmere e e é ® e 473
Ulswater . : : : P ‘; 460
Derwentwater . . ; : ; 288
Crummock Water : : : : 260
Eassenthwaite Water j : : 210
Esthwaite W ater e a @ r 198
Grasmere ; - ; : 2 196
Wastwater 2 : - : : 160
Windermere Py Ps @ ry 8 ] ] 6
Coniston Water , ° : ; : 105
#,* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at
59, Lincoln’s Inn Fields. g
, LONDON: CHARLES KNIGHT & CO., 22, LUDGATE STREET,
, Printed by Winu1am Clowes and Sons, Stamford Street.
THE PENNY MAGA!
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OF THE
society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledze.
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{Male and Female Chinchillas, with their Young.]
Tue soft and delicate fur of the Chinchilla has been
known as an article of commerce since shortly after the
conquest and occupation of Spanish America. ‘The
animal is thus mentioned in an Enelish translation
(London, 1604) of Father Joseph Acosta’s ‘ Natural
and Moral History of the East and West Indies,’ pub-
lished at Barcelona, in Spanish, in 1591. ‘* The Chin-
chilles is another kind of small beasts, like squirrels ;
they have a woonderfull smoothe and soft skinne, which
they (the natives) weare as a healthfull thine to com-
fort the stomacke, and those parts that have neede of a
moderate heate.”’ A similar description is given by
Sir John Hawkins, in his ‘ Voyage into the South Sea,
A.D. 1593,’ CIuondon, small folio, 1622, reprinted in
‘Purchas his Pilerims,’)—‘ Amongst others they have
little beastes, like unto a squirrell, but that he is grey ;
his skinne is the most delicate, soft, and curious furre
that I have seene, and of much estimation (as is reason)
in Peru; few of them come into Spaine, because dif-
ficult to be come by, for that the princes and nobles
laie wait for them; they call this beast Chinchilla, and
of them they have great abundance.”
But though the animal was thus early described, and
its fur eagerly sought after, to adorn cloaks und pelisses,
and to compose muffs and tippets, the habits and cha-
racter of the little creature were very little known.
Animals distinct froin each other were described under
different names, and confounded. M.M. Isidore Geof-
froy St. Hilaire and Dessalines D’Orbigny proposed in | one of them.
the chinchilla was to be included; ‘“‘a genus,” says
Mr. Yarrell, ‘‘ which caunot be adopted, inasmuch as it
is composed of heterogeneous materials, and as the two
types included in it have both previously been described
and designated as distinct groups.” English naturalists
are indebted to the late Mr. Bennett, the intelligent
predecessor of Mr. Yarrell in the secretaryship of the
London Zoological Society, for the first satisfactory
attempt to settle the question. In an admirable paper
in the first volume of the Sociely’s ‘ Transactions’ he
proposes to establish a small natural family of Ro-
dentia (gnawing animals), on which he bestows the
name of Chinchillide. There are only three genera
included, as yet, under this family, all of them South
American burrowing animals: but, supposing Mr. Ben-
nett’s name and classification to be adopted by con-
tinental as well as Enelish naturalists, further research
will doubtless add to the number.
The viscacha, of which Sir I*rancis Head, in his
‘Rough Rides across the Pampas, has given so hu-
morous a description, under the name of biscacho, ts
included under the Chinchillide. ‘* The whole coun-
try,’ says Procter, ‘tas quoted by Mr. Bennett, “ from
Buenos Ayres to San Luis de la Punta, is more or less
burrowed by an animal between a rabbit and a badger,
called the biscacho, which renders travelling dangerous,
particularly by niglt,—their holes being so large and
deep, that a horse is almost sure to fall if he steps into
The biscacho never ventures far from its
the ‘Annales des Sciences Naturelles, for November, | retreat, and is seldom seen till the evening, when it
1880, the creation of a new genus—Callomys, in which | comes out to feed; and hundreds may be observed
Vou. VI. 2Q
298
sporting round their holes, and making @ noise very
similar to the grunting of pigs. ‘Their flesh is much
liked by the people, and they are remarkably fat, and
on that account, when caught at any distance from
their holes, are easily run down; they will, however,
defend themselves from a doe a considerable time.
The holes of these animals are also inhabited by vast
numbers of small owls, which sit, during the day,
gazing at the passing travellers, and making a very
ludicrous appearance*.”
Two species of chinchilla are mentioned by Mr.
Bennett, of which the wood-cut exhibits the chinchilla
lanigera. ‘The body of the chinchilla lanigera is
about nine inches in length, and the tail about five.
Its proportions are close-set, and its limbs compara-
tively short, the posterior beimg considerably longer
than the anterior. ‘The fur is long, thick, close, woolly,
somewhat crisped, and entangled together, greyish, or
ash-coloured above, and paler beneath. ‘The form of
the head resembles that of the rabbit; the eyes are full,
large, and black; and the ears broad, naked, rounded |
at the tips, and nearly as long as the head. ‘The mous-
taches are plentiful and very long. Four short toes,
with a distinct rudiment of a thumb, terminate the
anterior feet; and the posterior are furnished with the
same number, three of them long, the middle more
produced than the two lateral ones, and the fourth ex-
ternal to the others, very short, and placed far behind.
On all these toes the claws are short, and nearly hidden
by tufts of bristly hairs.
covered with long bushy hairs; it 1s usually kept turned
upwards towards the back, but not reverted as in the
squirrels.
Molina, in his ‘ Natural History of Chili,’ speaks of
the chinchilla as ** another species of field-rat, in great
estimation for the extreme fineness of its wool, if a rich
fur as delicate as the silken webs of the warden spiders
may be so termed. It is of an ash-grey, and sufficiently
long for spinning. The little animal which produces it
is six inches long from the nose to the root of the tail,
with small pointed ears, a short muzzle, teeth like the
house rat, and a tail of moderate length, clothed with a
delicate fur. It lives in burrows underground, in the
open country of the northern provinces of Chili, and is
very fond of being in company with others of its species.
It feeds npon the roots of various bnibous plants which
erow abundantly in those parts ; and produces twice a
vear five or six young ones. It is so docile and mild
in temper that, if taken into the hands, it neither bites
nor tries to escape; but seems to take a pleasure in
being caressed. If placed in the bosom it remains
there as still and quiet as if it were in its own nest.
This extraordinary placidity may possibly be rather due
to its pusillanimity, which renders it extremely timid.
As it is in itself peculiarly cleanly, there can be no fear
of its soiling the clothes of those who handle it, or of
its communicating any bad smell to them, for it is en-
tirely free from that ill odour which characterizes the
other species of rats. For this reason it might well be
kept in the houses with no annoyance, and at a trifling
expense, which would be abundantly repaid by the pro-
fits on its wool. ‘The ancient Peruvians, who were far
more industrious than the modern, made of this wool
coverlets for beds and valuable stuffs. There is found
in the same uorthern provinces another little animal
with fine wool, called the hardilla, which is variously
described by those who have seen it; but as I have
never observed it myself, [ cannot determine to what
menus it belongs.” Upon this Mr. Bennett, whose
translation we have given, remarks that there can be
little doubt that this animal is identical with the chin-
Chilla, the latter being freqnently spoken of by the
* ‘See the ‘ Penny Cyclopedia,’ Article CuincHILirpm.
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
The tail is about half the -
length of the body, of equal thickness throughont, and :
[Auaust 5,
name of arda, the same with harda, the diminutive of
which is hardilla. Schmidtmeyer (‘ Travels into Chile
over the Andes,’ London, 4to., 1824) thus describes
the animal :—‘* The chinchilla is a woolly field-mouse,
which lives underground, and chiefly feeds on wild
onions. Its fine fur is well known in Europe ; that
which comes from Upper Peru is rougher and larger
than the chinchilla of Chile, but not always so beautiful
in its colour, Great numbers of these animals are
caught in the neighbourhood of Coquimbo and Copiapo,
oeneraliy by boys with dogs, and sold to traders who
bring them to Santiago and Valparaiso, from whence
they are exported. ‘he Peruvian skins are either
brought to Buenos-Ayres from the eastern parts of the
Andes, or sent to Lima. ‘The extensive use of this fur
has lately occasioned a very considerable destruction of
the animals.”
Captain Beechey, R.N., on his return from his ex-
pedition to the north-west coast of America, presented
a living specimen to the Zoological Society; and an
eutire skin, rendered particularly valuable in con-
sequence of its having the skull preserved in it, was at
the same time brought home by Mr. Collie, the surgeon
of Captain Beechey’s ship, and deposited in the British
| Museum.
“To the account of its habits given by Molina,”’ says
Mr. Bennett, “we ‘can only add, that it usually sits
upon its haunches, and is even able ‘to raise itself up
and stand upon its hinder feet. It feeds in a sitting
posture, grasping its food, and conveying it to its.
mouth by means of its fore paws. In its temper it is
generally mild and tractable, but it will not always
suffer itself to be handled without resistance, and some-
times bites the hand which attempts to fondle it when
not in a humour to be played with. Although a native
of the alpine valleys ‘of Chili, and consequently sub-
jected in its own country to the effects of a low tem-
perature of the atmosphere, against which its thick
coat affords an admirable protection, it was thought
necessary to keep it, during the winter, in a moderately
warm room, and a piece of flannel was even introduced
into its sleeping apartment for its greater comfort.
But this indulgence was most pertinaciously rejected,
and as often as the flannel was replaced, so often was
it dragged by the little animal into the outer compart-
ment of its cage, where it amused itself with pulling it
about, rolling it up, and shaking it with its feet and
teeth. In other respects it exhibits bunt little play-
fulness, and gives few signs of activity; seldom dis-
turbing its usual quietude by any sudden or extra-
ordinary gambols, but occasionally displaying strong
symptoms of alarm when startled by any unusual
occurrence. A second individual of this interesting
species has lately been added to the collection by the
kindness of Lady Knighton, in whose possession it
had remained twelve months previously to her present-
ing it to the Society. This specimen is larger in size,
and rougher in its fur than the one above described ;
its colour 1s also less uniformly grey, deriving a some-
what mottled appearance from the numerous smal]
blackish spots which are scattered over the back and
sides. It is possible that this may be the Peruvian
variety, mentioned in the extract from ‘Schmidtmeyer’s
Travels,’ as furnishing a less delicate and valuable fur
than the Chilian animal. It is equally good tempered
and mild in its disposition, and, probably in consequence
of having been exhibited in a public collection, is much
more tame and playful. In its late abode it was fre-
quently suffered to run about the room, when it would
show off its agility by leaping to the height of the table.
[ts food consisted principally of dry herbage, such as
hay and clover, on which it appears to have thriven
oreatly. That of the society's original specimen has
| hitherto been chiefly grain of various kinds, and suc-
1837.]
culent roots. When the new-comer was first intro-
duced into Bruton Street, it was placed in the same
cage with the other specimen; but the latter appeared
by no means disposed to submit to the presence of the
intruder; a ferocious kind of scuffling fight immediately
ensued between them, and the latter would unques-
tionably have fallen a victim had it not been rescued
from its impending fate: since that time they have
inhabited separate cages, placed side by side; and
although the open wires would admit of some little
familiarity taking place between them, no advances
have as yet been made on either side. Sich an isolated
fact can, of course, have little weight in opposition to
the testimony of Molina, that the chinchilla is fond of
company. It is nevertheless a remarkable circum-
stance, and deserves to be mentioned in illustration of
the habits of these animals.”
NEWSPAPERS BEYOND THE GANGES.
Newspapers, or some kind of periodical publication
answering the purpose of newspapers, are slowly spread-
ing themselves all over the world; but they can hardly
be said to have taken root anywhere but in Europe, or
in countries peopled by Europeans; in fact, with the
single exception of China, all the newspapers in the
world owe their origin to Europeans, and nearly all are
now conducted either by natives of Europe or by their
descendants. It may also be safely asserted that the
number of those printed in English, though not in |
Iingland, surpasses that of all the newspapers printed
in all the other languages of the world added together.
The number published in the United Kingdom cannot
be taken at less than 350; in the United States of
North America they may be reckoned at about 1250;
aud those of Australia, Canada, India, &c., may be
100; making altogether nearly 1700,
The journals of Kurope and her colonies furnished
until within these few years all the news of the world ;
but a little periodical literature has been recently spring-
lug up in a part of the world where Enropeans have
rarely resided but as a kind of privileged outcasts,
feared, perhaps, for their power, but watched, sus-
pected, and kept as far as possible from a knowledge
of the people or country in which they dwelt. We
allude to that remote portion of Asia situated beyond
the Ganges, reaching from Hindustan to the Pacific
Ocean; a region less known to Europe than any part
of the world, except the interior of Africa. Europeans
are now resident in several detached spots of this vast
region, and with their usual inquisitiveness they are
examining, as far as their limited means allow, into the
fields of observation spread around them. In several
of these places periodical publications have been issued,
political, literary, scientific, and religious; and although
many of them cannot with strictness be called news-
papers, yet as they all, occasionally, at least, deal in
news, and the number is too few for subdivision, they
may here not very improperly be classed together.
The first paper met with east of the Ganges is pub-
lished at Pulo Penang, which was, we believe, the first
place of all the wide region now under our eye where
any EKuropean publication was known. A paper called
the ‘Prince of Wales’s Island Gazette’ was published
there as early as 1805, and it continued in existence
twenty-two years, when it fell for want of support.
Within a short month the ‘Penang Register and Mis-
cellany’ appeared: this was generally a well-written
paper; but some remarks which were printed in op-
position to the censorship established there caused its
suppression in little more than a twelvemonth, when it
was succeeded by a government paper, which lasted
little longer than its predecessor. ‘The island remained
without a paper for about three years, until July 20,
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
299
1833, when the ‘ Prince of Wales’s Island Gazette’ was
brought out. This paper still exists; it is much like
an English one. Accidents and offences are detailed,
sales advertised, political affairs commented on, men-
dicity and temperance societies advocated. But its
situation gives novelty to some classes of its articles.
Piracies form a large item) among the offences. An
account of the Roman Catholic mission at Penang Is
given in one number, from which it appears that nearly
800 Chinese were converted to Christianity between
1823 and 1835. We must conclude that Catholic
missionaries are more successful than Protestants, or
else that they are satisfied with a smaller amount of
Christianity than Protestants think necessary when
they admit a convert, ‘ihe Catholics have also estab-
lished a Chinese college and a feinale asylum on the
island.
Malacca, on the Malay peninsula, though it has been
above three centuries under European power, had no
newspaper until it became permanently English. Its
first journal, called the ‘ Malacca Observer and Chinese
Chronicle,’ came out in 1826, and dropped in 1829.
This was a well-written paper, to which the late Dr.
Morrison constantly contributed.
A monthly paper, to be called the ‘ Periodical Mis-
cellany,’ was advertised to appear at Malacca at the last
period to which our ‘information extends ; but this ap-
pears by its prospectus to partake rather the character
of a magazine than of a newspaper. ‘The same cha-
racter belonged to the ‘ Indo-Chinese Gleaner,’ an ex-
cellent quarterly publication, well known to orientalists :
this was planned and conducted by Dr. Miine, in 1817,
when the Dutch were owners of Malacca, and it con-
tinued until 1522, when Dr. Milne died, and his pub-
lication consequently dropped.
The next place in position where an English periodical
is known is the island of Singapore, at the extremity of
the peninsula, and this little spot has two newspapers ;
the first is the ‘Singapore Chronicle,’ which began in
1823, and was continued at first at irreeular periods,
‘and then once a-fortnight: in 1830 it was enlarged
and issued weekly, in which state it continues. ‘The
‘Singapore Free Press’ appeared nearly two years ago,
and is published weekly. Both these papers are, in
appearauce and contents, European journals: they are
also printed on European paper, while most other
eastern works of the sort. are on the dingy-looking
India or China paper.
The Portuguese, who preceded other Europeans in
establishing themselves on the borders of China, pre-
ceded them also in newspapers. The ‘ Abelha da
China,’ and the ‘Gazetta de Macao,’ were in existence
there twelve years ago, but we believe they are no more.
Two very respectable papers in the Portuguese lan-
guage are now published there, quite equal in contents
and appearance to anything which has been seen in
the mother country: one 1s named the ‘ Chronica de
Macao,’ and the other the ‘ Macaista Imparcial.’ The
first appears twice a month, and has reached its third
year; the latter was begun in 1836, and is published
twice a week.
The oldest paper of Canton is the ‘Canton Register ;’
it is published weekly, and is now in the tenth year of
its existence. ‘This is generally well conducted ; it is
somewhat anti-Chinese in its politics, and communi-
cates a good deal of occasional information on Chinese
manners, ceremonies, and festivals.
The Canton Press is also a weekly paper, which has
been in existence about two years: this paper is rather
more occupied than the Register in comercial topics ;
and, from the tone of some of its articles, we think it
less decidedly anti-Chinese than its elder brother, thongh
it strongly advocates free trade.
The Chinese Repository, from which most of our
as)
300
detail is taken, is a monthly publication in octavo,
generally containing forty-eight pages. This periodical
has been now about six years in existence; its circulation
is above 700, and is increasing. Among the places to
which it is sent, we find some spots where we should
hardly expect that many readers would be found; such
is Honolulu, on the Sandwich Islands. More than a
third of all the numbers printed go to the United States,
and about forty reach England. ‘This periodical would
be considered good even in England. Besides extracts
from Chinese gazettes, and details of occurrences, it
contains much information relating to China, transla-
tions of historical documents, correspondence with the
covernment, and frequently valuable original articles.
The editor, in one of his recent numbers, gives the
following not very flattering account of his own and
fellow labourers’ situation under the ‘* Celestial Eye :’?—
‘The situation of an editor of a public journal in
Canton is by no means the most agreeable that can he
imagined, Cut off from all civilized society, except a.
THE PENNY MAGAZINE,
[Aucust 5,
sinall community of * bachelors’ like himself; having
no intercourse with the native inhabitants at their
homes, in their social relations, and no access to their
public institutions or courts of justice; without any
mails or dispatches, besides those which, frequently at
very long intervals, come from heyond sea; watched
and guarded as an enemy or an unruly animal by the
servants of the police; confined to the walls of the
‘thirteen factories,’ except on a few special occasions,
when for health’s sake he is allowed to go abroad and
be called fan kwei (foreign devil) by every one he
meets; with no earthly security for his person or pro-
perty, beyoud the good-will of a time-serving magis~
tracy; ever liable to wound the feelings of his best
friends by telling too much or too little of the truth ;”
&ec. &c. This last and the remaining items are com-
mon to editors and many other persons in all parts of
the world; but the first-mentioned grievances are per-
haps peculiar to Canton, and they are pretty severely
felt by all European residents in the einpire of China.
SKETCHES OF THE PENINSULA.—No. V.
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[ Contrabandistas. |
In all countries where the impos‘s on commerce are
heavy, and the government inactive or corrupt, snuggling
will exist in a proportionate degree. The facilities for
contraband trade in the Peninsula are very creat, for
the government, thongh avaricious to the last degree,
has not sufficient enerey even to check men who rove
about the country in the face of day, in bands of from
forty to fifty. It is true that the system, so long prac-
tised by the government, of conniving at evils they have
not ability to crush, has given the contrabandistas a
power sufficient to cause much trouble: they are in-
variably well monuted, well armed, and ready on all
occasions to meet the threatened danger. Indeed so
lax is the police that they not only find a ready market
in the open towns and villages, but fearlessly enter for-
tified towns and forts, transact business in open defiance
of the law, and march ont at their pleasure, without any
particular notice being taken of them. I was much
surprised one day to see a police report given to the
governor of Elvas, which announced the arrival of
fifteen Spanish smugglers from Badajoz as a mere
matter of course. Jf an hotel in London contained
fifteen, or even one such guest, with their contraband
goods with them. the house would soon be surrounded
by swarms of custom-house officers, and the goods, as
well as their owners, conveyed in a marvellously short
space of time to a place of security; and if the guilty
knowledge was capable of proof, to a place of punish-
ment. But here there seems to be a mutual un-
derstanding between the authorities and the contra-
-bandistas, by means of which the business is conducted
on the most amicable terms.
1837,]
As the life of a contrabandista (which means, pro-
perly speaking, a land smuggler) is to a certain extent
roving and romantic, so are his habits lively and ener-
getic, and his costume picturesque. The best accom-
modation the inns (such as they are) can afford are
his, whether on the road or in the town, and freqnently
his gay and cheerful temper renders him an agreeable
visitant. As he has ample opportunities of collecting
information in his continuous perambulations, he is con-
sidered as a walking newspaper, aud may be seen in
his brown jacket with its gaudy embroidery and silver
bell buttons, his red sash and shirt of lace, his short
loose trowsers and conical hat, standing at the hostel
door, recounting the news to a group of eager listeners,
or seated in the chimney corner, with his wine skin by
his side, and cigar in his mouth, enlivening the com-
pany with his guitar. When the contrabandista is
mounted, the same animal carries him, his arms and
his goods: his arms consist generally of a cutlass, two
brace of pistols, one in holster and the other in his
belt, and a lone Spanish gun: this latter is carried:
between the thigh and the saddle in a pecnliar manner,
with the barrel pointed downwards. ‘The goods are
packed in small bales or cases, and slung over the
crupper of the saddle, which is adapted for the purpose ;
and thus mounted and accoutred, it becomes a difficult
matter to seize the woods without first taking the man.
In Portugal the articles of illicit trade are not, as
with us, wines or spirits. These productions are so
similar in both conntries, as to render the smugeling of
them of no advantage; but goods of Spanish manu-
facture—cigars, tobacco, chocolate, soap, jewellery, the
lighter articles of dress, lace, &c., all of which bear
heavy dnties, are thus imported in large quantities.
Along the coast smuggling is practised much less than
on the frontiers: although the trafie in cigars and to-
bacco is considerable, the entire monopoly of these
articles by one individual, the Marquis de Quentilla,
renders them not only of a high price, but also of an
inferior quality, none being allowed to enter the comn-
try except from the Portuguese colonies. The con-
sequence is, that contraband cigars are held in great
esteem not only for their superior quality, but also for
their reduced price; the usual price of Havannahs, and
what are called Gibraltars, from these men being about
twenty crusadoes nove the thousand, or about one half-
penny each, while the trash sold by the estanco Is at the
same price. It must be remarked that the Portuguese
are seldom seen without a cigar in their mouths.
If the contrabandistas would confine themselves to
the import of unexcised goods, we might overlook the
impropriety of the trade in the romantic character
which they bear; bunt when trade is bad, they some-
times levy contributions on the road when they happen
to meet a prize worth having. I recollect meeting
with a party of about thirty in the forest of Alemtejo,
above Monte Mor Novo. I was convoying baggage
and money, and should therefore have been a good
prize for them. As soon as [ drew near they formed
up on the side of the road, as though meditating an
attack; I presume, however, that onr numbers over-
awed them (I had about fifty men with me), for after
threatening for a few minutes they filed off at a round
trot. That they were not over-scrupulous I found on
my arrival at Monte Mor Novo, for the same party
had, a short time before our encounter, stopped the
courier and Jightened him of his burden.
NORTHUMBRIAN MANNERS AND CUSTOMS.
Tue manners and customs of the Northnmbrian peasan-
try have at all times differed from those which distin-
guished the inhabitants of the southern counties of Eng-
land.
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
The invincible attachment of the ancient North- |
301
inter-marriages with their Saxon and Danish conquerors,
their habits of rough independence, which foiled the
intended subjection of large districts of Northumber-
land by William and his Norman successors, and above
all, the long and desperate border feuds and morays,
have all tended to render the Northumbrian character
interesting and peculiar. So wild and desperate were
the borderers only a few centuries ago, that they were
considered aliens by their neighbours the “ eood men
of Newcastle ;” and according to a corporation regu-
lation of that town, it was unlawful for any burgess to
take for his apprentice a youth from the dales of Reed or
Tyne. In an old play there is a happy exposition of
the ideas of honesty formerly entertained by the in-
habitants of these dales, by a beggar, who describes
himself as born in Reedsdale, and come of a wight-
riding surname called the Robsons, good honest men
and true, “saving a little shifting for their living, God
help them!” After the union of the crowns of Eneland
and Scotland, the hostilities between the borderers in
a great measure ceased, and the exploits of the moss-
troopers degenerated into petty and vexatious depre-
dations. ‘These irregularities were almost eradicated
when the civil wars, in the reign of Charles I., revived
them, and in spite of the severe enactments directed
against them in the reign of Charles II. and his suc-
cessors, the border thieves continued their excesses,
eluding detection and observation with the most con-
suinmate address, down to the suppression of the rebel-
lion of 1715. So lately as the year 1701, the police of
Tynedale and Reedsdale was maintained by officers who,
for a certain sum, zzsured their own districts against
theft and robbery, and in case of offences being coim-
mitted made good the loss. During the last century
the general habits and manners of the Northumbrian
borderers became more and more assimilated with those
of their more civilized countrymen, from whom they are
now only distinguished by their attachment to peculiar
and local customs. As the popular opinions and cus-
toms of the common people cannot be studied without
acquiring some nesful knowledge of mankind, we shall
proceed to lay before our readers some of the most
remarkable still existing in Northumberland.
At the hirings for farmers’ servants, which take
place half-yearly, either at certain market-towns or fairs,
those who offer their services stand in a body in the
market-place, or centre of the fair, each sex forming a dis-
tiict company; andas anemblem of the object for which
they are assembled, the men fix a green bongh in their
hats, and the women hold a flower in their hands. So
soon as any one is hired, the master into whose service
he is going presents his fnture servant with earnest-
nioney, or, as it is locally called, corles, which usually
amounts to 2s. 6d. or 5s. The market being over,
fiddlers take their seats close to the windows in public-
houses; the girls begin to file off, and slowly pace the
streets, with a view of gaining or meeting admirers ;
while the young men, with equally innocent desiens,
follow after, and, having eyed the lasses, pick up each
a sweetheart, whom they conduct to a dancing-room,
and treat with beer or spirits and cakes. After half an
hour’s dancing, both parties return to the street again,
and each seeks a new adventure.
One of the most pleasing traits of ancient hospitality
still observed is that of the inhabitants of each village
setting aparta certain day on which they hold their village
feast. Every family on this occasion invite their own
friends and acquaintances who live in the neighbouring
parts, and entertain them with good cheer. Music,
dancing, cards, and drinking, are the amnsements of
the day. If any stranger happen to pass this scene of
mirth and jollity, he is sure to be entertained with the
ereatest kindness and hospitality.
In the courtships of the peasantry the practice also
umbrian Britons to their own usages and language, their | in use in Wales called bundling is here followed. Though
302
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
undoubtedly an imprudent practice, yet the effects are | deavouring to gain the land again ludicrous scenes
not usually so serious as might be anticipated. With these
proceedings the parents or masters of the lovers are
frequently occur, as various artful contrivances are used
for making holes and dikes in the well, and fixing straw
acquainted, but connive at them, having no notion of | ropes at the bottom ; so that the noviciates think them-
denying those under their care that indulgence which
they themselves and their ancestors have practised with
impunity before them.
On the birth of a child, the lady is visited by all her
acquaintances, who are entertained with bread and
cheese and a dram of whiskey; and when the child is
carried out to be christened, the nurse, who heads the
procession, presents the first person she meets with
bread, cheese, an egg, and salt.
In many places it is usual to invite not only the
friends, but also the neighbours of a deceased person
to his funeral. This is done by bidders, dressed in
black silk scarfs, going round: formerly, the bidders
never used the rapper of the door, but always knocked
with a key, which they carried with them for that pur-
pose. In the town of Hexham, until within the last
few years, the public bellman went round publicly to
invite attendance at a deceased’s funeral: on such oc-
casions, a notice somewhat similar to the following was
used :—** Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord.
John Robson is departed, son of Richard Robson that
was. Company is desired to-morrow, at 5 o'clock, and
at 6 he is to be buried. For him and all faithful
people give God most hearty thanks.”
During the Christmas season in Northumberland
oroups of boys and girls sing carols from door to door,
for which they receive a small present. Sword dancers
also go about during this festive season with music :
two of these dancers are attired in very strange attire ;
—one, known as the “ Bessy,” in the grotesque habit
of an old woman; the other, the Fool, is entirely co-
vered with skins, and from his back hangs the tail of
some animal. The office of these characters is to keep
the crowd from the dancers, and to rattle a tin-box
for. the receipt of contributions among the spectators.
Shrove Monday, the day on which people formerly took
their leave of flesh during Lent, is still observed in this
county by the dinner of slices of hung beef and egg,
and is commonly known as Collop Monday. On
Shrove Tuesday a curious custom Is still kept up in the
town of Alnwick. About mid-day the burgesses as-
semble, and proceed in a body, attended with music,
down to the gates of Alnwick Castle: they are received
by the bailiff and porters of the castle, one of whom
kicks a large foot-ball over the castle walls among the
burgesses. Down to the last five years, the burgesses
amused themselves by playing at foot-ball in the streets
of the town, sparing the windows of neither friend
nor foe; the Duke of Northumberland, as lord of the
manor, paying for all broken glass: now, however,
his Grace allows a match to be played in his park
between the married and unmarried freemen, and be-
stows 5/.on the winning side. Another singular custom
prevails in Alnwick in the ceremony of initiation to the
freedum of the borough: Early on the morning of St.
Mark’s day the houses of those about to be made free-
men are distinguished by a holly tree planted before
each door. About eight o’clock these young men being
mounted on horseback, and armed with swords, as-
semble in the market-place, where they are joined by
the manorial officers of the Duke of Northumberland.
The assemblage proceed to perambulate the corporate
property, until they reach a well, situate on Alnwick
Moor, called the Freemen’s Well. ‘This well, which is
a dirty stagnant pool, nearly thirty yards in length,
i stances permit, they. freely indulge.
selves lucky if they are not twice or thrice completely
immersed in the filthy water, and half suffocated with
mud. After this feat they resume their former dresses,
remount their chargers, and having arrived at a par-
ticular spot, they arrange themselves and contest the
honour of arriving first at the walls of Alnwick Castle ;
the foremost claiming the honour of what is termed
‘‘ winning the boundaries,” and of being entitled to the
temporary triumphs of the day. There is a current
traditionary opinion that this strange ceremony of initia-
tion was introduced by King John, who in hunting or
the moor was himself laved in this identical pool, and
therefore decreed that no burgess should enter upon his
freedom until he had encountered a similar danger.
The termination of harvest in Northuinberland is
generally celebrated by a plentiful feast, accompanied
with mirth, dancing, and singing: to this entertain-
ment, which is given by the farmer, the reapers and
servants of the family are invited. Itis generally known
by the name of the Kern or Churn Supper.
The colliers, or pitmen (of whom we have already
spoken in No. 192), as they are called in the coal dis-
tricts of the north of England, being confined for the
most part to their own sogiety, have acquired certain
distinguishing marks of peculiarity in language, dress,
and appearance, by which they are easily known from
the rest of their countrymen: in their dress they are
extremely gaudy when off work, are fond of clothes of
flaring colours; their holiday waistcoats, or posey-
jackets, as they call them, exhibiting most curious
amaloamations of various dyes. ‘They are extremely
fond of good living, in which, when their circum-
One of their fa-
vourite accompaniments to the tea-table is a kneaded
cake baked on the girdle, which they call singing-
hinnies. ‘Their chief diversions are bowling and cock-
fighting: in bowling, some of them can throw the
heavy stone ball to an almost incredible distance.
They are very fond of resorting to the public feasts,
called in the language of the district hoppings ; where
they exhibit their buffoonery by grinning through
hoops for tobacco: of course he who assumes the most
friehtful countenance is the successful competitor. The
habit of excessive drinking, which formerly prevailed
amongst them on holidays and market-days, is gradually
wearing away; although they still resort to a public-
house to enjoy a social cup, and talk over the news of
the day. On the tables of the public-houses to. which
they resort are placed pieces of soft wood, which they
take up and occupy hours in cutting it into fantastical
shapes. ‘They are constant visiters to the Newcastle
races, where they revel in unbridled license: they always
bet on the horses of the principal coal-owners: when
the Earl of Durham was on the turf, they invariably
vented curses both loud and deep if a ‘“*‘ Lambton’ were
not the winning horse. ‘They are remarkably fond of
music and dancing, and have a series of songs written
for them which they delight to sing and hear. Many
of these songs are highly poetical, and all full of wit
and humour, but of course unintelligible to any who
does not understand the peculiar slang and dialect in
which they are written; they are generally comme-
morative of the adventures of pitmen, their dogs and
fighting-cocks, or descriptions of their feelings on visit-
ing London or other large cities. To the pitmen,
the young freemen are bound to go through. As a] “canny” Newcastle, as they endearingly call it, is the
preparatory process they divest themselves of their
proper garments, and equip themselves in a white dress,
and a cap ornamented with gay ribbons. All being
prepared, a signal is given; they plunge into the pool,
and scramble through it as well as they can. In en-
ceutre of the world of civilization, and the local trade
the most important branch of national commerce.
[Auausr 5,
1837.]
FUR-TRADING WITH THE INDIANS.
SOON after the first settlement of Canada by the French,
the fur-trade became a source of considerable weaith to
the trading part of the community; and although the
British North American colonists turned their attention
to trading in furs and peltries, yet for a long time the
French continued our successful rivals in this branch of
colonial traffic. ‘There were two circumstances which
mainly contributed to produce this result, namely,—
the greater facilities of communicating with the remote
Indian countries in the interior by means of the River
St. Lawrence, the Great Lakes, and their tributary
waters; and also the superior degree of friendship and
confidence entertained towards the French by the
various nations of Indians. During later years, British
enterprise has far surpassed that of every other nation ;
but at the time alluded to we had several formidable
and successful rivals. ‘To secure the trade of the in-
terior of the country, a few small forts were necessarily
erected and garrisoned by French troops; so that
while the British settlers were content to carry on a
limited traffic with the frontier tribes of Indians, the
French were actually trading through that vast region
of country extending from the head-waters of the Mis-
sissippi River to the gulf of St. Lawrence.
Iam not going to enter upon a history of that trade,
which has been continued down to the present time;
for although the two powers—Great Britain and the
United States, that at present lay claim to that vast
continent, nearly to its fullest length and breadth, still
consider the fur-trade an object of some importance,
yet the emoluments thence derived fall far short of
what they once were. One reason for this falling off
may be accounted for in the scarcity of some of those
animals which yield the most valuable furs, of which
the beaver might be particularly instanced, while ano-
ther is undoubtedly owing to the great decrease in
the Indian population (and consequently of hunters)
throughout every section of the country. Beavers heine
remarkably shy and timid animals, as the country be-
comes inhabited, or rather, indeed, in advance of-settle-
ment, they everywhere disappear. Throughout a vast
extent of country which in my wanderings I have
several times explored, particularly the northern sec-
tions of the States of New York and Pennsylvania,
with portions of Ohio, Indiana, and other states, I have
always noticed that where the country is hilly, or even
moderately undulating, one meets with a constant suc-
cession of small swamps, which the inhabitants univer-
sally denominate ‘“‘ beaver meadows.” ‘These are easily
and simply accounted for; and though some of them
may have been deserted long before the sound of the
woodinan’s axe was heard in those parts, in such cases
there might have been some misfortune or defect which
the beavers could not or would not remedy; since it
sometimes happens with ourselves that we prefer build-
ing a new house to repairing the old one. Beaver-
meadows are commonly found in the upper parts of the
valleys where the streams are comparatively small, and
where the banks afford a convenient situation for making
a dam or embankment across the stream, so that a por-
tion of the upper part of the valley might be laid under
water. It rarely happens that the ingenuity of man
could have devised more advantageous situations for
those embankments in references to the purposes for
which they were intended. Few of those meadows
cover less than four or five acres, and in many situations
they have originally extended over a surface of five
times that area. Except in the old channel of the
stream the water is but shallow, so that in the lapse of
years a considerable portion of the space, which is a
sheet of water in the first place, becomes a reedy marsh ;
and when the beavers finally desert, or neglect to repair
the embankment, the greatest portion of the ground
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
303
| that was once overflowed becomes rich meadow-land.
Since population has so wonderfully increased in those
states previously named, many of the original beaver-
meadows now form the most productive portions of the
settlers’ farms. Generally, however, they require some
little labour, such as improving the outlets or channels
of the streams which intersect them in order to lay them
perfectly dry, and to bring them into a state of general
usefulness. The streams on which those meadows are
found are invariably well stocked with fish, so that,
notwithstanding their having been deserted by the whole
colony of beavers, it is no uncommon circumstance to
find them frequented by a family or two of otters.
When Canada first came under the dominion of
Great Britain the fur-trade was pursued with indefati-
gable ardour. In addition to the “ forts ” and “ posts ”
already established by the French, new regions were
explored and new establishments formed. However,
the chief part of the persons employed in this branch of
colonial commerce continued to be of French ovigin ;
for, in addition to their superior knowledge of the
country and their acquaintance with the various Indian
nations, they had been more inured to the hardships
and privations necessarily attending expeditions far
into the interior; and, in short, understood the whole
business better than those who had, by the conquest of
arms, become masters of the colony. Such being the
case, the French Canadians have continued to be em-
ployed in the fur-trade up to the present time. Not
that they have usually had the control over the parties
that have yearly been sent on those romantic and trying
expeditions,—but that the “ voyageurs” wlio man the
boats (batteaux) are still composed of these people.
Though the fur-trade, as connected with Canada, has
fallen off in an astonishing degree, there are still a few
“traders” that make reeular trips to the distant sta-
tions in the far west. Generally, they proceed through
the interior by the route of the Ottawa River, until they
reach the inland lakes, and the streams that flow to the
westward. I have, however, known parties of between
twenty and thirty persons journeying in a couple of
batteaux by the way of the Great Lakes and the river
Niagara. Where the navigation is absolutely ob-
structed (take the Falls of Niagara for instance), these
large boats have to be conveyed over-land to the nearest
navigable point of the stream, in the best way the
people can manage it, which is most generally upon
waggons or sledges drawn by oxen. Such auxiliaries
cannot, however, be procured far into the interior; so
that it is not attempted to take these boats into regions
far beyond the Great Lakes; for when the traders
arrive there, they lay up their batteaux until their
return; and having constructed bark canoes, or else
purchased them from the Indians, they continue their
journey, navigating the small streams and rivers; and
where there literally is no water, they are carried upon
the men’s shoulders until they reach the next creek or
Jake, upon which they launch these frail vessels. The
routes between the head-waters of streams which flow
in Opposite directions, or from one lake to another, are
called by the French traders ‘* portages,” and by the
English “‘ carrying-places.”” In the great north-west
territory, owing to the natural formation of the country,
where lakes and streams everywhere abound, the carry-
ing-places are but few, and of inconsiderable extent.
But the canoes are not ail that have to be conveyed by
the boatmen across the “ portages;” for the Indian
stores, consisting of cloth, blankets, strong spirits
(‘‘ fire-water,” as the Indians say), hatchets, rifle-gitns,
powder and ball, trinkets, beads, &c., have to be carried
on the men’s shoulders. These goods are made up
(previous to the setting out of the expedition) into
packages of seventy or eighty pounds each, one of
which every man carries across the “ portages,” in
addition to any goods or chattels of his own that he may
304
have to take along with him.
ents, or chief clerks, of whom there is commonly one
attached to each party, besides the store-keeper, have
to shonlder their respective packages on reaching a
* carryine-place.” ;
These trading parties do not always direct their steps
towards the quarters they may have left on their last
rading’ expedition; for the Indians with whom they
then trafficked may not have been eood to deal with,
or, perhaps, they inay have moved off into a distant
part of the country, or they may have been engaged to
hunt for some other party. If, therefore, one of these
little trading parties has no certainty of ‘‘ where or
whereabouts” they shall pass the winter, their plan is
to be enided in some measure by circuinstances. For
this purpose, when they find themselves in the vicinity
of a tribe or settlement of Indians, they would halt for
a day or two, and hold communication with some of
the Indian chiefs. If the parties cannot come to terms,
then the traders proceed on their journey, but if the
Indians are willing (and able) to hunt for them—at
their own terms,—then they make arrangements for
continuing in the neiz@hbourhood. ‘There are, however,
other considerations than that of getting a tolerable
price for their stores; one of the principal of which is
the certainty of finding a good supply of, provisions,
which consists of game and fish. The species of game re-
ferred to includes deer, elk, and buffalo; and the fish, the
best sort that the rivers afford. One or two of the party
are professed hunters, and on their exertions the welfare
of the little colony in a vreat measure depends. Leaving
Quebec in the month of June, they reach their winter-
ing eround in September; when, having made arrang‘e-
ments with the Indians to hunt for thei, and having’
ascertained a favourable locality for hunting and fishing:
for their own support, particularly the latter, they pro-
ceed to clear away the timber from a small spot of
eround, and make other arrangements for the erection
of a log dwelling-house. When they have erected
their log castle, they proceed to store up their goods in
one part of it, while the other part is the general ren-
dezvous of the whole party. It is here that they look
forward to passing a couple of winters, so that when
they have constructed the log walls, in the rudest
manner possible, they afterwards, at convenient op-
portumlies, stop up the openings or seams with moss ;
and should they be able to procnre clay, rudely plaster
them over. When the dwelling is furnished the people
engage in fishing, for in many instances they depend
almost entirely upon fish for a sustenance during the
long winters. Each individual fishes for himself, and
not in snpport of a general stock; so that the most
industrious are likely to be the best provided for, since
the fish are so easily caught that science is wholly
useless. After the fish are caught they are dried in
the open air over slow fires, after the fashion of the
Indians, and then laid up for winter use. However,
tiil winter has fairly set in, the hunters belonging to the
party (and sometimes Indians also) bring in a supply
of game, so that during the autumnal months the party
fares very well. Vegetables and bread are out of the
question, but on some occasions they obtain a supply
of wild rice from the Indians. Salt, too, is an article
that they cannot procure nor take with them but in the
most limited quantities ; hence it would be wholly im-
possible to provide sufficient to salt down a stock of
provisions for the winter.
Pheasants, wild turkeys, and the veal of the butfalo-
calf are amongst the delicacies of the forest ; while the
flesh of the buffalo, the elk, the deer, and the bear, at
times, are to be had in abundance. A stock of fire-
wood has also to be provided before winter comes on,
so that with the various occupations already described
the people are kept pretty well employed on their first
arrival. Should there be tribes of Indians residing in
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
[Auaust 5, 1837.
Even the superintend- | the neighbourhood, of whom the party has little or no
previons knowledge, or of whom they entertain an un-
favourable opinion, a paling or stockade is erected
around the buildiug, to guard against improper and
inconvenient intrusion.
The traffic between the trading party and the Indians
commences shortly after the arrival of the traders, or
at all events as soon as they can find time and con-
venience to unpack and exhibit their stores, when the
prices demanded for every article is truly astonishing.
A common rifle, which in Quebec might sell for 22. or
2/.10s., will probably be valued to the Indians at twenty
times that sum. Although complaints are made of the
Indians being bargained hardly with, and though they
probably are unequal as traders to the keen but cautious
European, yet European goods must necessarily bear a
oreatly-advanced price to pay for the fatigue, the out-
lay, and the risk attendant on the traffic.
The arrangement for “ trading” is beeun by one or
more of the Indian chiefs coming forward, and stating
how many hunters the tribe can muster, and on what
terms they would be willing to engage to hunt. The
chief clerk or superintendent makes known of what his
stores chiefly consist, as well as the barter prices he
expects for them. If the prices are considered too
hieh, no arrangement is immediately entered into; but
the chiefs having been treated to some,“ fire-water,”
a few small presents are sent off to their squaws,
(women) in order to induce then to endeavour to pre-
vail upon their hunters to accept the terms which have
been offered to them. When a bargain is concluded
between the parties, the merchandise, to a considerable
extent, is forthwith @iven up to the Indians; the traders
beine under the necessity of trusting to the good faith
and probity of the savages. ‘This certainly is a strange
way of doine business, but having become the general
custom it cannot be avoided, and but few attempts at
the commission of palpable frauds take place. ‘The
Indians, however, not unfrequently fall short in furnish-
ine’ the number of skins they had agreed to do; but
that may be owing to their ill success in hunting, or
to their having over-speculated at the time they made
the engagement. Without wishing to tradnce the
Indian character, it must be acknowledged that there
are instances on record of their having got possession
of one trading party's stores, and afterwards engaging
to hunt for another party, leaving those that they had
duped without the shadow of a remedy or redress. On
other occasions they have seized upon the store-houses,
murdered the whole party, and divided the spoils
amonest themselves. But on such occasions as these
the blame must not be always laid to the charge of the
Indians; for it has often been the retribution paid by
the white men for their ill-treatine the Indians’ wives
aud daughters. I relate these matters simply because
they have been known sometimes to occur; and al-
though such deeds have served to blacken the character
of the ill-used and basely-plundered North American
Indian, I am far from e@iving implicit credit to every
statement promulgated by individuals whose own cha-
racters have been far from unimpeachable.
By the time that a trading-party has spent one sum-
mer and two winters in these lone and solitary wilder-
nesses, they generally have acquired as much furs and
peltry as they can manage to convey to their far-off
destination. The skins are nade up into packages of
similar weight to those they brought with them, and are
conveyed precisely in the same manner over the carrying-
places. Afler a weary sojourn of twenly months, the
party quit their rude establishment in the early part
of summer, and after a long, and in many places a
dificult and dangerous voyage, arrive once more in the
haunts of civilized society before the season has closed.
~ LONDON: CHARLES KNIGHT & CO., 22, LUDGATE STRERT.
Printed by Witiiam CrLowes and Sons, Stamford Street,
THE PENNY MAGAZINE
OF THE
Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge.
344, ] PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. [Avavsr 12, 1837.
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[Pilgrims in the Desert. ]
Tus long and circuitous journey from Enrope to Jeru- | coast which had so long resounded with the world's
salem, by Constantinople, through Asia, frequently | debate.”
adopted by pilgrims in the earlier ages, was one of ex- Another route was to cross the sandy and generally
traordinary toil and danger. After the occupation of | sterile country which lies between Keypt and Palestine,
Palestine by the Crusaders, it became comparatively an | and which constitutes a portion of the Great Desert of
easy task to visit Jerusalem—the pilgrims had only to} Egypt or Arabia. This desert extends as far into
jake shipping for one of the sea-ports; and it was for | Palestine as close to the walls of Jaffa (the ancient
this reason, amongst others, that the Crusaders held so | Joppa), the coast-line being covered with sandy hills.
tenaciously the sea-coast of Palestine. When no longer | The journey from Cairo to Jaffa is calculated as OCcCU-
masters of Jerusalem, they made Acre, which is about | pying froin twelve to fifteen days. With proper care
seveity miles distant from it, their capital. The fall of this journey, though attended with some privations, IS
Acre was the final loss of the Holy Land. ‘‘ A motive | not a dangerous one. Indeed, Burckhardt says that
of avarice or fear,” says Gibbon, “ still opened the holy | accidents or misfortunes arising’ from the want of water,
sepulchre to some devout and defenceless pilgrims, but | that most grievous of all calamities in “a dry and
o ‘ ‘ 6¢ >
e ) r v 3) a -
a.mournful and solitary silence prevailed along the | thirsty land where no water Is,” Inust, in peneral, ** arise
s S 3 x t
« A general view of the “ Pilgrimages of the Middle Ages” from a want of proper precaution, But ante OH
has been given in No. 269 vol. v., of the ‘Penny Magazine.’ speaks as a hardy and seasoned traveller, Cases mus
Vou, VI. | ) 2K
z.
zast~*
306
frequently arise in which the best precaution 1s defeated,
or where the want of means prevents the operation of
it to the extent that is necessary.
Pilgrims proceeding from Jaffa to Jerusalem, after
having either crossed the Desert or lauded from the
Mediterranean, see little or nothing of that beauty or
fertility which obtained for Canaan in ancient time the
title of “‘ aland flowing with milk and honey.’ But
as this road was the common one, in fact, almost the
only way of access which pilgrims had to Jerusalem,
many were the efforts made to reconcile present appear-
ances with past descriptions. M. de Chateaubriand,
who travelled in Greece and Palestine in 1806 and
1807, thus exclaims :—‘* When you travel in Judea,
the heart is at first filled with profound disgust; but
when passing from solitude to solitude, boundless space
opens before you, this diseust wears off by degrees, and
yon feel a secret awe, which, so far from depressing the
soul, imparts life, and elevates the genins. Extraor-
dinary appearances everywhere proclaim a land teeming
with miracles; the bnrning sun, the towering eagle,
the barren fig-tree—all the poetry, all the pictures of
Scripture are here. Every name commemorates @ mys-
tery; every grot proclaims the future; every hill re-.
echoes the accents of a prophet. God himself las’
spoken in these regions; riven rocks, dried-up rivers, |
half-open sepulchres, attest the prodigy: the Desert
still appears mute with terror, and you would imagine |
that it had never presumed to interrupt the silence
since it heard the awful voice of the Eternal !”’
But other travellers have shown that Judea, even
now, after ages of war and neglect, is not all a rocky,
barren country, whose natural sterility 1s aggravated
by the hand of man. Messrs. Buckingham and Bankes
were in raptures with the grandenr, the beauty, the
fertility of the country eastward of the Jordan; and
M. de Lamartine, who, in 1832, travelled from Bairont
to Jerusalem, across Syria and Palestine, says, on en-
tering the Holy Land, ‘‘ It was not a land naked,
rocky, and barren—a mingled heap of low, uncultivated
mountains, as the land of promise had been painted to
us, on the faith of some mise@uided writers, or a few
travellers hastening with all speed to arrive at the holy
city, and return; and who had only seen of the vast
aud varied domains of the twelve tribes, the rocky route
which led them, under a burning sun, from Jaffa to
Jerusalem. Deceived by these writers, I orily expected
to find what they described—a country of trifling ex-
tent, without any extensive views, without valleys, with-
out plains, without trees, and without water. A coun-
try dotted with grey or white hillocks, where the Arab
robber conceals himself in the shade of the ravines to
plunder the passenger. Such may, perhaps, be the
road from Jaffa to Jerusalem; but such is not Judea,
as we beheld it the first day from the summit of the
hills which border Ptolemais—as we fonnd it on the
other side of the hills of Zebulon and Nazareth; at the
foot of Mount Hermon or Mount Carmel—as we found
it, indeed, in its entire breadth and in all its varieties,
from the heights which command Tyre and Sidon to
tne lake of Tiberias; from Mount Theban to the hills.
of Samaria and Naplous; and from thence to the walls
of Sion.”
But this land, still so beautiful and fertile under all
the changes that have passed over it, was liable from
the earlrest periods, to a continued prevalence of drone ht
—an affliction fitly compared to the heavens over the
inhabitants’ heads becoming as brass, the earth under
their feet as iron, and the rain of their and powder and
dust. ‘The Crusaders, in the first crusade, experienced
one of these seasons of drought. ‘Though the fleet,”
says Robert the Monk’*, “ which arrived at Jaffa
furnished the besiewers with provisions, they still
* Robert’s account is abridged in Purchas’s ‘ Pilgrims.’
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
[Auausr 12,
suffered as much as ever from thirst. So great was the
drought during the siege, that the soldiers dug holes m
the ground, and pressed the damp clods to their lips ;
they licked the stones wet with dew; they drank the
putrid water which had stood in the fresh hides of
buffaloes and other animals, and many abstained from
eating, in the hope of mitigating by hunger the pangs
of thirst.” This event supplied Tasso with the origin
of a description, which Chateaubriand considers the
most exquisite passage of the ‘Jerusalem Delivered.’
‘“ Here,’ he says, ‘‘’Tasso equals Homer and Virgil. It
is a highly finished piece of composition, and is dis-
tinguished by an energy and purity of style, in which
the other parts of the work are sometimes deficient.”
The reader will find this passage of Tasso’s quoted tn
part in the ‘ Pictorial Bible,’ in illustration of the 14th
chapter of Jeremtah—itselfa vivid and startling picture
of the effects of drought, though not clothed in that
grand and poetic imagery in which other inspired poets
allude, througwhout the Bible, to similar calamities.
Thus does old Fairfax make ‘Tasso speak—we quote
three stanzas from the 13th book :—
‘©The sturdy bodies of the warriors strong,
Whom neither marching far nor tedious way,
Nor weighty arms which on their shoulders houg
Could weary make, nor death itself dismay,
Now, weak and feeble, cast their limbs along,
Unwieldy burthens, on the burned clay ;
And in each vein a smould’ring fire there dwelt,
Which dried their flesh, and solid bones did melt.
Languish’d the steed late fierce, and proffered grass,
His fodder erst, despised, and from him kest,
kuach step he stumbled, and, which lofty was
And ligh advanced before, now feil his crest ;
His conquests gotten, a!] forgotten pass,
Nor with desire of glory swelled his breast
The spoils won from his foe, his late rewards,
He now neglects, despises, nought regards. |
Languished the faithful dog, and wonted care
Of his dear lord and cabin—both forgot !
Panting he laid, and gathered fresher air,
To cool the burning in his entrails hot ;
But breathing—which wise Nature did prepare
To ’suave the stomach’s heat—now buoted not,
For little ease (alas!) small help they win
That breathe forth air, and scalding fire suck in?’
If such were the dangers and privations to which, at
times, all pilgrims were exposed in Judea, whether
they came on their way to Jerusalem to Jaffa by sea,
or by crossing the Desert from Egypt, we cannot
wonder that all who could make it convenient preferred,
as the least addition to nnavoidable evils, the perils of
the Mediterranean to the long journey by land. Cha-
teaubriand went from Constantinople to Jaffa in a
vessel in which were about 200 pilerims of the Greek
Church, men, women, and children; he describes them
as having been merry enough during the voyage,
thongh easily alarmed at the slightest appearance of
a gale. But Dr. Richardson, who, in 1817, with Lord
and Lady Belmore, &c., crossed the Desert from Cairo
to Jaffa, on their way to Jerusalem, describes the suf-
ferings endured by some poor pilerims, who had joined
their party for protection :—‘* The poor pilgrims, who
were travelling with a small quantity of water, and
anxious to husband it lest accident should detain us
longer in the Desert than we expected, or who carried
no flask along with them, and had kept up with us a
great way ahead of tne camels, came toiling up with
parched lips, flushed face, and turgid eyes, like to start
from their sockets, and begged, if we had any water,
to give them a little to cool their mouths. It was
impossible to be deaf to such a request, however much
we might wish to husband our store; and yet there
was no cause for apprehension, for we had more than
enough: but under the idea that it would fall short,
even those of the party who might be considered as the
best entitled to indulge, had we been on short allow-
1$37.]
ance, obstinately held out; and though pressed, and
really in want of it, denied themselves the gratification,
lest a more urgent period should arrive, when a drop of
water would be called for as if to save a life. Often
have I seen the flask of water pushed away by the
hand when I well knew the parched throat required its
quenching aid. It was impossible to see and not to
admire the feeling and spirit that dictated the resolu-
tion, or ever to forget the countenance that spoke the
need of the beverage that the hand put by.”
It is unnecessary, on the present occasion, to make large
extracts from travellers, respecting their sufferings when
unable to obtain water. An eastern traveller has already
described in the ‘ Penny Magazine,’ (No. 90, vol. 11.,)
what his own sensations were, both under the want, and
in obtaining the means, of quenching his thirst. We
will only add the description which the traveller who
writes under the assumed name of Ali Bey, gives of the
effect of thirst on the body :—‘ This attack of thirst
is perceived all of a sudden by an extreme aridity of
the skin, the eyes appear to be bloody, the tongue and
mouth both inside and outside are covered with a crust
of the thickness of a crown piece ; this crust is of a dark
yellow colour, of an insipid taste, and of a consistence
like the soft wax from a hee-hive. A faintness or
languor takes away the power to move; a kind of knot
in the throat and diaphragm, attended with great pain,
interrupts respiration. Some wandering tears escape
from the eyes, and at last the sufferer drops down to
the earth, and in a few moments loses all conscionsness.”
We may now be enabled, in some measure, to enter |
into the spirit of the design which heads the presenti
article. These pilgrims, we will say, have visited the
Holy City, worshipped in the Church of the Sepulchre,
ascended the Mount of Olives, drank of
at Siloa’s brook, that flowed
Fast by the oracle of God,”
bathed in the Jordan, and wandered on the banks of
the Dead Sea. Having escaped all the perils of the
way, they are now on their return home; but no
friendly vessel lay in the port of Jaffa to carry them
thence. ‘Shey therefore start across the Desert to
Egypt, and there intend to take shipping for Europe ;
diverging, it may be, into that stony or rocky region,
where lie Mounts Sinai and Horeb, and the convent of
St. Catherine’s. But they have lost their way in that
“waste and howling wilderness !”—like Hagar, when
she wandered with Ishmael, “‘ the water is spent in
the bottle;”—they have sat down on the ground to
die! ‘The war-horse of the warrior, stretched lifeless
on the burning plain, seems to mock the efforts of lus
master to rouse the pilgrims from their despair. ‘The
arms and figure of the stout soldier recal the memory
of those champions of the Cross whose business it was
to euard and protect pilgrims in the Holy Land.
Tn vain his eye searches round the horizon for help or
hope !—
Still the same burning sun !—no cloud in heaven
The hot air quivers, and the sultry mist
Floats o’er the desert, with a show
Of distant waters, mocking their distress ! *”
The old man, with his arm round his daughter, ap-
pears, as far as suffering allows him to think, to utter
the lanenage of Mungo Park—‘“ Here terminate all my
hopes of being useful in my day and generation—here
must the short span of iny life come to anend!” ‘The
face aud attitude of the daugehter express agony and
resionation ;—but the half-naked attendant thinks not,
—his sufferings are too intense, and engross all hits
powers of endurance.
Our engraving is from a beautiful lithographic print,
after a picture by Stilke,—one of the ornaments of the |
|
modern German school of painting.
* Southey’s ‘ Thalaba.’
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
307
A LOOKING-GLASS FOR LONDON.—No. XX.
MARKETS—SMITHFIELD AND BILLINGSGATE,
Tuere are four chief markets in London, which may
be regarded as the fountain-heads, or grand reservoirs,
from whence the dealers of the metropolis, as well as
persons in the country, draw their supplies. These are,
Mark Lane for grain, Smithfield for live stock, Billings-
wate for fish, and Covent Garden for vegetables and
fruit. A great portion of the other markets are for the
sale of meat and vegetables, and may be regarded more
as family markets (or at least as much so) than as
markets for dealers. Thus Newgate and Leadenhall
Markets, the great emporiums of the carcass-butchers,
are markets for the sale of meat and vegetables. ‘The
one is within a few minutes’ walk of Smithfield, the other
is near the East India House, lying between Leaden-
hall and Fenchurch streets. Newport Market, in New-
port Street, near Leicester Square, is divided into the
wholesale and retail markets; the retail market is
merely a kind of row, or alley, with butchers’ shops on
either side. Hungerford Market—a handsome place
on the banks of the Thames, which is entered from the
Strand, near Charing Cross, may be regarded as a sort
of adjunct or ally of Billingsgate, for such it was in-
tended to be; it is, however, a general market. The
row of shops occupied by the ‘* Whitechapel butchers”
in High Street, Aldgate, may be reckoned a meat-
market; and not very far from thence there is a vege-
table market in Spitalfields. Across the water, in
Southwark, is the well-known “ Borough Market ;”
Farringdon Market, off Farringdon Street, is in lew
of the old Fleet Market, which was removed ; there is
a market not far from Finsbury Square ; Clare Market
is in Clare Street, near Lincoln’s [itn Fields; and at
the “west end” are Portman and Carnaby Markets, the
latter a small market, as well as Oxford-street Market,
which though now decayed, was soine few years ago, in
a very flourishing condition. ‘The fine street called the
Haymarket, running from Pall Mall to Piccadilly, derives
its name from a hay-market having been held there.
This hay-market was removed, by an Act passed in
1830, to the Cumberland Market, near the Regent’s
| Park.
The shops and the hawkers are the conduits and the
pipes by which the supplies of the markets are dis-
tributed over the whole surface of the metropolis. ‘I'he
hawkers are a numerous and indefatigable generation.
Manifold are the voices to be heard in every suburban
district and retired street proclaiming whatever in its
season is thought likely to sell. In the morning,
mingling with the curious screain of the milkwoman,
may be heard the long-drawn sound of ‘* water-cresses !”’
then comes round the cats’-mieat man, his little cart
drawn by one or two dogs, while the household cats,
as he approaches, recognise fis voice, and manifest
lively and unequivocal symptoms of interest ; and, per-
haps, before breakfast is over, a sound that is more a
yell than a cry, emitted from iron lungs, and seemingly
intended to reach the deepest recesses of the kitchen,
announces that “‘hearthstone” is at hand. Breakfast
is scarcely well over when the bakers’ and the butchers’
men begin their rounds ;—the bakers with baskets or
barrows, the butchers, some on horseback, others with
oval-shaped wooden trays upon their shoulders. Now
come the men with their live soles, their eels, or their
mackerel; with these are to be seen the venders of the
cabbage, the cucumber, the onion, the lettuce, the cauli-
flower, peas, turnips, potatoes, or fruit; and the spaces
which are left are filled up by itinerant hawkers of
brooms, brushes, ornaments, &c., with now and then an
Italian boy with his figure-tray, or a strolling minstrel
with his hand-organ or his guitar. In the afternoon
the hawkers go round again, for “supper” time is
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I i CUTICLE Nar
Va
eon
[Smithfield Cattle Market. |
drawing nigh. Has the stock of vegetables or of fish | hold can all sit down together; and therefore is it en-
been unsold in the morning? It will disappear in the
evening. Is the season for oysters gone out? ‘Then
are not lobsters come in? Truly of the people of Lon-
don may we say (though in a sense different from that
of the poet’s), that—
«Kvery genial power of heaven and earth,
Through all the seasons of the changeful year,
Obsequiously doth take upon herself
To labour for them !”
All the exuberance of supply in the markets, and all
the minuteness of accommodation in the sellers, are
met correspondingly in the demand. ‘They act and
re-act on each other, each in tnrn producing and _ re-
producing. Other cities than London may boast a
profounder skili in the mysteries of cookery: where
else shall we find an entire population more thoroughly
embued with a love of the art and practice of eating ?
To use one of their own familiar phrases, the people
of London do “ enjoy their victuals.” Where are lamb
and peas enjoyed more exquisitely? Or eels, or mackerel,
or salmon eaten with more saiistaction? Or boiled
mutton and turnips consumed with a more genuine
relish? Or rounds of beef more heartily or more jollily
cut down? It is trne, indeed, that the heaviest purses
carry off a large portion of the best of the fish and the
finest of tne fruit, and nearly monopolize the poultry
and the venison. But still the “‘ million” have a very
considerable choice, according to their means, of the
‘** good things” with which the markets are provided,
and they do not neelect to avail themselves of it, espe-
cially for that favourite meal the “supper.” A London
workman may have taken bnt an indifferent breakfast ;
he may slight his beer and bread-and-cheese at eleven
o’clock ; he may even not enjoy his dinner at one, or
take his “tea” hurriedly: but not to have something
‘‘ hot,” or at least something “ nicé”’ for supper, would
be a most grievous deprivation. Supper comes when
the labours of the day are over; when, if there be
young children in the faimily, they are asleep and out
of the way; when the grown-up members of the house-
joyed so keenly. Take away the daily supper and the
Sunday’s dinner from the working population, and you
would take away half of the pleasure of their existence!
The Sunday’s dinner! Just asthe streets are crowded
with people returning from church or chapel, and the
servants of the licensed victuallers sally out to supply
each customer with porter, the bakers open their doors.
Then issue a stream of persons, male and female, the
father or the son, but more ewenerally the mother or the
daughter, bearing home the family dinner, which, for
the charge of 2d., has been baked in the baker’s oven.
Out of some bakers’ shops there will be brought, in a
few minutes, sixty, eighty, or a hundred dinners, joints
of meat or huge pies. Let a stranger walk, about one
o'clock on a Sunday, through any part of London
densely inhabited by the working-classes, aud his ol-
factory nerves will soon testify to him how universally
enjoyed is the ‘* Sunday’s dinner.”
The seasons have their different effects on different
markets. ‘Thus the fine summer weather, during which
Billingseate is resplendent with fish, and Covent Garden
blooming with vegetables, fruit, and flowers, causes the
butcher to fret, makes him keep his shop or stall compa-
ratively bare and scanty, while the passer by is more apt
to turn away, than to stand still and admire the meat.
But let Christmas and a nipping frost approach toge-
ther; let the season come round when cattle-shouws are
held, and fat oxen are brought up in waggons because
they cannot well waddle on foot to town, and the
scene will be changed. It is indeed a rich treat, im-
mediately preceding the great anniversary, to see the
crowds standing at the butchers’ shops, and feasting
their admiring eyes on the elorious ** barons of beef”
hung up around.
Of the markets, who has not heard cf Smithfield—
ancient Smithfield? It has been exclaimed against as
a nuisance for the last fifty years, and it is a nuisance
still. Yet there must be something potent in the causes
which still retain the cattle-market here. The great
difficulty in abating the nuisance lies in providing an
1837.]
adequate remedy. Smithfield has been a cattle-market
for many centuries; once it was a field outside the
city walls; now it is a market-place embedded in the
heart of London. Remonstrate with the grazier and
the butcher; tell them of the impropriety of driving
Sheep and bullocks through crowded streets, exposing
passengers to danger, as well as the cattle to injury,
and causing detriment to shops. They will answer
that it is all very true, but that Smithfield has a vene-
rable name, and that cattle of every kind, from all
quarters of the kingdom, are brought to it; that the
man with a few pounds in his pocket has a chance of
suiting himself, as well as he who comes to lay out
hundreds; that the market-place occupies a kind of
centre, near the General Post Office, and old established
places of business, and is therefore very favourably
situated for the prompt transaction of business; and
that to remove it would run the risk of splitting the
one universally-supplied market into many. ‘There is
some reason in these statements; mere attachment to
old habits, or the mere power of monopoly on the part
of the corporation of the city of London, could not of
themselves have prevented the removal of Smithfield
market. A handsome cattle-market was erected at
Islington, and a vigorous effort made to establish it—
but the experiment has failed, and the market is at
present offered for sale. 7
Smithfield is a cattle-market on Mondays and Fri-
days, and a hay and straw market is held in it on Tues-
days, Wednesdays, and Saturdays. The great market-
day is Monday, or rather Monday morning. The place
is a large irregular area, enclosed by houses. It is so
arranged that the cattle arrive in the outskirts of Lon-
don on Sunday, and towards evening they are driven
into the city. ‘There are two great thoroughfares by
which the cattle are brought to London—by the great
northern road, over Highgate Hill, and through Isling- ;
ton; and by the eastern outlet of the city, the White-
chapel Road. ‘They continue arriving in Smithfield
from about nine o’clock on Sunday night till towards
morning. During the dark nights of winter, when the
supply of cattle in the market is ereatest, and especially
about the time of what is called the “ great market,”
near the end of the year, the scene in Sinithfield is
terrific. ‘The drovers are furnished with torches, to
enable them to distinguish the marks on the cattle—to
put the sheep in pens, and to form the ‘ beasts” into
droves. The latter are all placed with their heads to
the centres of the droves, which is done for the purpose
of enabling the purchasers to examine the bodies of the
animals more easily, ‘This is not accomplished without
very great exertion. The different flocks of sheep have
to be kept from mixing with each other, and the bul-
locks are severely beaten over the nostrils to compel
them to form into the drove or circle, and then to stand
patiently. ‘The lowing of the ‘“ beasts,” the tremulous
cries of the sheep, the barking of dogs, the rattling of
sticks on the heads and bodies of the animals, the
shouts of the drovers, and the flashing about of torches,
preseut altogether a wild combination.
As morning breaks, the purchasers arrive, and ar-
duous work it is for both buyer and seller. When a
bullock has been purchased, it has to be separated
from the drove; and the poor animal is not only re-
luctant to be driven out, but naturally dreading a repe-
tition of former treatment, it thrusts its head into every
drove it passes, causing a shower of blows to descend
on if, and every animal it disturbs. Then a flock of
sheep, when let out of a pen, run hither and thither,
sometimes on emerging from the market, scattered by
a waggon or a coach, and sometimes darting with ra-
pidity in the direction they are not wanted to go. Wo
to the novice who is careful of his dress, and attempts
to pass through Smithfield on a wet, wintry Monday
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
309
morning! We should rather say, careful of his person,
for if the streets adjoining are not without dauger at
such a tine, what must the crowded market be? The
smaller number of cattle in the market, the dry weather,
and the early dawning of the morning, make a visit to
Smithfield in summer less perilous and unpleasant than
in winter.
The cattle-market held on Fridays in Smithfield is
of very minor importance when compared with the
market on Mondays. But there is a horse-niarket held
on the afternoon of the Fridays, which, though far
from being a creditable affair, is exceedingly amusing.
The knowing look of the jockeys, who are attempting
to display their broken-down animals to the best ad-
vantage, and the fun and laughter going on at one
part of Smitlifield, where costermongers assemble to
buy and sell their asses, are not without attraction to
those who can relish scenes of low drollery, and coarse
and boisterous mirth. The character of Smithfield
as a horse-market is not very high. In 1828 it was
Stated to be the means of bringing together “ all the
rogues and thieves within ten miles of London,” and
that it was “* the most abominable scene that can be
imagined.” It is not quite so bad now, being under
better police regulation.
Very little meat is sold by the butchers in London
on a Monday, except by those who supply exclusively
the upper ranks of society. The habits of the work-
ing aud middle classes of the metropolis lead them
to cook a large quantity of food on the previous day,
the remains of which serve them on Monday. For this
reason the butchers prefer the market of live stock to
be on Monday in preference to any other day, as they
have then more time to attend to it. Monday also
heing the great day at Mark Lane, individuals from
the country doing business both in cattle and in grain,
are able to attend Smithfield in the morning, and Mark
Lane during the day. Taking a period of twelve years,
the annual average of “ beasts” sold in Smithfield is
147,536, and of sheep 1,220,150.
Ihe smaller retail butchers do not buy animals in
Smithfield unless it may be now and then a few sheep.
They prefer purchasing from the carcass butchers, who
kill to a large extent for the supply of the smaller
dealers in neat. The carcass-butchers have their places
in different parts of London, but they are to be found
principaliy in Warwick Lane, which runs from New-
gate Street to Paternoster Row, in Newgate Market
close adjoining, in Leadenhall Market, in- High Street,
Aldgate, (the ‘* Whitechapel butchers,”) &. Many
of these butchers are in both the wholesale and the retail
trade, and the business which some of thei transact is
very great.
A large quantity of what is termed ‘‘ country-killed
meat’ is brought to London,—more in cold weather
than in‘ warm. What effect will the railroads ulti-
mately have on Smithfield Market? ‘The carriage of
meat in warm weather deteriorates it: but if means
are afforded of bringing it up with rapidity, and with-
out jolting, there is no doubt that the quantity of
“country: killed meat” brought to the metropolis will
be considerably increased. The flesh of an animal
killed without undergoing the fatigue of a long journey,
and without being excited, goaded, and driven about in
a crowded market, must necessarily be sweeter than
that of one bought in Smithfield, and killed shortly
afterwards. It is stated, however, and the statement
appears natural enough, that the London slaughter-
men have a knack and handiness in performing their
wotk which the country slaughterers cannot attain. A
few of the London butchers have fields, where they feed
and rest their purchases before they kill them.
There are but few pigs brought into London alive.
A ereat quantity of pork is brought from various parts
310
of the country, especially from Wiltshire, Berkshire,
Essex, &c. The veal which is killed in the country is
brought up packed, generally in dry straw and cloth.
A considerable quantity of mutton is also brought up
from the conntry.
The system of slaughtering animals in London has
been much animadverted on, and the abattcirs, or
slau@hter-houses of Pans, have been held up as an
example to the metropolts. There can be no doubt
that there is much in the London modes objectionable
and repulsive. ‘To see bullocks or sheep driven, often
with violence, through a narrow doorway (frequently
alongside of the stall where meat is hanging up, thus
alarming and offending the senses of the animals,) into
back premises, odorous with blood and offal, cannot but
create a feeling of pain and regret in the mind of the
casual passer-by.
The Jews, as is well known, have a different system
of slaughtering from the other butchers. There are
Jewish inspectors and slaughterers specially appointed ;
instead of knocking down the animal with an axe, they
kill it with a knife; and the inspector narrowly exa-
mines the carcass. If it 1s approved, a seal is put upon
it. The causes of rejection of a carcass do not neces-
sanly imply that the flesh of the slain animal is bad:
they look to see that it has not had its limbs broken,
nor its liver disordered, &c.,—or whatever defect or
objection there may be in it, coming within the scope
of their law.
Neweate and Leadenhall Markets, being old esta-
blished seats of business, are more famed for the nature
of their supplies than for the extent or beauty of the
accommodations of the market-places. ‘The same, in-
deed, may be said of all the old markets of London.
it is hard to change old habits. The finest market
may be erected, but that of itself is not sufficient to
bring the supplies, and, therefore, the people.
Billingseate lies immediately below London Bridge,
at the western extremity of the Custom House. It
was established in 1699, and is held every day, except
Sunday, when however mackerel is allowed to be sold.
‘The market is so divided that oysters are sold in one
part and other descriptions of shell-fish in another ;
red-herrings, cod, salmon, and eels, are to be found in
the respective divisions of the market assigned for their
sale. The two latter are the only kinds sold by weight.
Between the fisherman and the retail fishmonger there
is an intermediate class of dealers, about thirty in
number, termed salesmen, who alone occupy stalls in
the market. ‘The fishermen consign their cargoes to
the salesmen, who are compelled to fix up in a conspi-
cuous place a statement of the kind and amount of their
stock, but they are not allowed to expose fish for sale
before the ringing of the market-bell at five o’clock.
Kish of the best quality is always bought up imme-
diately on the opening of the market by the dealers from
the west end and those who supply the richest class of
consumers. It may perhaps be alleged that the sales-
nen are so small a body that it would be easy, by collu-
sive acts, to render the market comparatively a close
oue: but the business is transacted with so much
rapidity, and the rush of buyers is so great, that the
opportunity for effecting a sale would quickly be lost,
if any other principle were endeavoured to be acted
upon than that which the wants of the retail dealer and
the amount of the supply jointly determine. The sale
of oysters does not begin until six o’clock, as the throng
of such a large number of persons as are engaged in
various ways in vending this description of fish wonld
interfere too much with the general market.. The high
price of fish is in a great measure owing to the system
of credit which the retail dealer is compelled to give,
the frequent losses he sustains, and to the practice of
the patronage of noblemen and gentlemen being dis-
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
| Auaus?t 12,
posed of by their servants in consideration of a heavy.
per-centage.*
‘That old and racy eloquence, which dealt more in the
fortiter in re, than the suaviter in modo, is decaying in
Billingsgate. ‘The term has indeed passed into the
language, and become all but immortal. The Billings-
cate of the tongue or the Billingsgate of the pen have
been cast into English as standard phrases, applied to
all who vent their passions in upbraidine and abusive
forms of speech. What a curious reflection! The
manners of Billingsgate may be improved, nay, the
market itself may be destroyed, yet a name and a
meniorial are left in the language, as if to mark out
the changes that are constantly passing on society.
POISONOUS BUGS OF MIANA.
It has been remarked that, notwithstanding the size
and strength of some of tne larger animals, the injury
they do to man is considerably less than that occasioned
by his more minute enemies, the insects and reptiles.
These creatures annoy him by their disgusting appear-
ance, and wound him by their stings or bites, which in
some cases are only painful, but in others are abso-
lutely mortal, while the minuteness of the cause prevents
its being foreseen and obviated, and the prolific nature
of the species is a security against their being ever
eradicated. The midleh, or poisonous bug of Miana, is
perhaps the smallest of those animals whose bite is death,
and if spread as widely as most other insects, it would
be as great a destroyer of the human race as any pesti-
lence. The creature is luckily confined to an obscure
town in the north-western part of Persia, and is never
met with far from its walls. It would appear that there
is something in the locality which conduces to its evil
effects, for those which are found at the distance of a
few miles from the town are less venomous than those
found within it, and the poison decreases as the distance
increases. ‘There is something so extraordinary in the
accounts given of these insects, that without the most
positive evidence we should be much inclined to donbt
their existence. Positive evidence is however not want-
ing. They are said to produce death or serious mala-
dies to all strangers, not only foreigners but Persians,
and even to natives of the town who have not resided
there for some years: and yet the inhabitants of thie
town and the peasantry of the vicinity suffer from their
bite no more than does a Kuropean from the sting of a
enat. It can hardly be said that they @et wsed to it,
for the first bite mostly proves mortal. It may possibly
he the case that children do not imbibe the poison, or
suffer little from it, and that lhke some maladies it does
not attack the same person twice: but of this we are
not informed.
Sir John Maundevile, an Enelish traveller or travel
writer, who wrote in the fourteenth century, mentions
a city lying in the way from ‘Tabriz towards the east,
‘“ where no Christene man may long dwelle, ne enduren
with lyfe in that cytee, but dyen within short tyme, and
no man knowethe the cause.” ‘There is little doubt that
the veracious knight alluded to the town of Miana,
which lies in the direction he mentions, and is the place
infested by this terrible pest.
All travellers who have passed through this part of
Persia mention these insects. Sir R. K. Porter says,
‘Tt is at the hazard of a stranger’s life if the lodgings
he is made to occupy be not perfectly fresh and clean;
for the town and its immediately-adjacent villages are
infested with a plague they have found it impossible to
eradicate, in the form of asmall but poisonous bug.
* See an article on Billingsgate Market in the ‘Penny Cyclo-
pedia.’ - Various details respecting the supply of fish to this
market have been given in the present volume of the ‘Penny
Mayazine, in the articles on British Fiswerizs,
1837.]
It breeds in myriads in all the old houses, and may be
seen creeping Over every part of their walls, of the size
and shape of the bugs in Europe, only a little flatter,
and in colour a bright red. Its bite is mortal, pro-
ducing death at the expiration of eight or nine months.
Strangers of every sort, not merely foreigners, but per-
sous not usually inhabiting the town and its vicinity,
are liable to be thus poisoned ; while the people them-
selves, or the adjacent peasantry, are either never bitten,
or, if so, the consequences are not more baneful to them
than the sting of the least noxious insect.”
Colouel Johnson, in his ‘ Journey from India in
1817,’ states, that this insect does not bite any poor
peopie; that it breeds and harbours in the crevices
of old walls, and does not coine out ifa light be kept
burning; and that its bite in the first instance pro-
duces no other perceptible effect than a round black
spot, with a lump below it. A later traveller, Major
Keppel, who gives nearly the same account, adds,
‘this story, absurd as it is, has wained credit with more
than one person’”—evidently thinking it too marvel-
lous to deserve refutation: but we apprehend that the
reality of the infliction has been too severely authenti-
cated for doubt, althongh there may be some trifling
discrepancies iu the stories told about it.
Sir William Ouseley was at Mianain 1812. Hewas
there told that these creatures fall from the ceilings and
beams of old houses, which were their favourite haunts;
and that at least half those strangers who were bitten
by them died of the wound. Several instances of their
effects were related to him, of which he had no reason
to doubt. A servant of Sir Harford Jones died of a
bite; and an atteidant of Mr. Gordon declared that he
himself had been recovered with great difficulty, after
being for several weeks enveloped in a warm cow's
hide. ‘This is said to be the best remedy known, though
not always successful. A Cossack, who escorted the
Russian Baron Wrede on his embassy to Persia, was
bitten at Miana. ‘he next morning a black spot ap-
peared on his foot, and the poor fellow was delirious:
by the advice of the inhabitants, a cow was slaughtered
and skinned, and the man enveloped in the warm hide ;
but it was in vain, the poor Cossack died in agonies.
Another remedy is stated by Sir Witham Ouseley to
be recommended by the natives, which is, to plunge
immediately into cold water, and to drink the sweet
mixture of bruised grapes. Perhaps both remedies
might be combined with success, for the death of Baron
Wrede's Cossack is in some measure attributed to his
not having lived exclusively on honey and sugar for
forty days, which is one of the native specifics.
Sir William, in the year 1816, witnessed the effects
of this animal's poison. ‘‘ I have since met at Paris,”
he says in a note to his work, ‘* Daoud Bey, whom the
king of Persia sent to compliment Louis XVIII.; that
Armenian envoy had been bitten several months before
at Miana by the milleh, and even when I saw him
still suffered violent pain in consequence of the bite on
his arm, which was much inflamed.”
Sir William Ouseley doubts their being very com-
mon; his ferash, or carpet spreader, found it difficult
to procure two, which Sir William preserved in paper
for some weeks, but unfortunately lost them. Most
probably they are uncertain in their visits, and by all
accounts they are numerous only in the hot season.
Johnson says, “ the insect during the hot season some-
times comes in myriads, and overruns the villages hke
a swarm of locusts;” he says it is then the practice to
scald the rooms thoroughly with boiling water, a few
days after which the insects are found collected toge-
ther in large black patches, dead.
The Russian embassy of 1817 passed through Miana,
but were intimidated by the terrible bugs, and in con-
sequence pitched their tents a league beyond the town,
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
31]
near the mountains, and out of the reach of these
diminutive pests. Maurice Kotzebue, who wrote an
account of the embassy, heard some frightful stories of
their mortal effects, aud was apparently too much
alarmed to examine very philosophically into the truth
of what he heard. His guides probably played upon
his fears when they assured him that several deserted
villages near Miana had been abandoued by their inha-
bitants, solely on account of the ravages of these insects.
Deserted towns are unfortunately very common in
Persia, from various causes, of which bad government
is the most effective; and the story is inconsistent
with what he himself relates of the impunity with which
the natives receive the bites of the insect. Travellers
do not agree in their statements of the appearance of
the milleh. Porter’s account has been already stated:
Sir William Ouseley says they are of a reddish-brown
colour, and that they resembled large bugs. Colouel
Johnson compares them to the large dog-tick of India;
“it is’ he says, “of a greyish water colour, and is hairy
under the body, and between the legs.” Kotzebue says
it is somewhat larger than the bug of Europe, of a
darkish brown colour, marked on the back with a num-
ber of red spots. Different individuals probably differ
in size and colour, as Is the case with many other insects.
The statements of travellers as to the time which
elapses between the bite and death are various. Porter,
as before stated, aliows eight or nine months : Kotzebue,
who approaches the terrific extreme, says it is often fatal
in less than four-and-twenty hours. ‘The scientific
opinion of Dr. Campbell, who resided many years in
Persia, may reconcile these variations: he says the dis-
ease attributed to the effects of the bite of these insects
begins with nausea, bilious vomiting, and loathing of
food; to which succeed obstructions of the liver, gall
bladder, and other viscera, terminating in death within
the space of six weeks or two months, according to the
strength of the patient. ‘There has been nothing clearly
ascertained, he concludes, with regard to the connexion
of this disease with the bite of the insect.
After hearing all that has been said of this extra-
ordinary insect, we may, without pretending to decide
on the different opinions given, safely conclude our
statement as Kotzebue has done his. ‘ How lucky it
is,’ says he “that these insects do not get into one’s
clothes, for they would soon be spread ail over Persia.”
COUNTRY WAKES.
In the rural districts where wakes and village-feasts are
still celebrated, there are few, or perhaps none, of the
persons who partake in the sports usual on such occa-
sions who are at all aware of their origin. That they
are fast declining is indeed little to be regeretted,—
rational amusements gradually becoming more con-
genial to the lower classes than the vulgar pastimes
which sometimes disgrace these revels. In different
parts of the country these holidays are known as Wakes,
Feasts of Dedication, Rush-bearings, Revels, and Hop-
pings. Spelman deduces the word wake from the
Saxon Vak, signifying drunkenness; but this is not
quite satisfactory, as we may regard the Encenia, or
anniversary feasts, formerly observed in commemora-
tion of the dedication of a church to some patron-saint,
as the source from whence the modern feast, or wake,
has sprung. Rushes were purchased at the feast of
dedication for the purpose of strewing the church ;
hence, probably, the festival obtained in some places
the appellation “ rush-bearing.” In 1493; three pence
were paid for “three burdens of rushes, for y° new
pews.” Hopping is derived from the Anglo-Saxon
poppan, to leap or dance,—whence dances, in some
parts of the country, are colloquially termed “ hops.”
312
Sozomen says that, in the church of Jerusalem, they
celebrated an anniversary which lasted eight days. The
Roman pontiff, Gregory the Great, instructed Augustine
and his colleagues, in the mission to England, to allow
the converted people liberty, on the annual feasts of
dedication of their churches, to erect themselves booths |
of the boughs of trees round about the church, and
there feast and entertain themselves with eating and
drinking; so “that beasts might no longer be slaugh-
tered by way of sacrifice to the devil, but for their own
eating and the glory of God; and that when they are
satisfied they may return thanks to Him who ts the
giver of all good things.” ‘This was of course intended
as some coipensation for the deprivation of those
ancient sacrifices which were abrogated by the tntro-
duction of the Christian religion. From this source
arose the custom of holding fairs in church-yards ; and
the most ancient fairs will be found to take place on
the day of the dedication of the church, a practice
which was restrained by the statute of Winchester, 13
Edward I.; but this statute was not entirely effectual,
an instance of which occurs in the September fair in
Bristol, where business is largely transacted, which is
still held in St. James’s church-yard in that city.
In the 28th canon given under King Edgar decent
behaviour was enjoined at church-wakes: the people
were commanded to pray devoutly, and not betake them-
selves to drinking or debauchery, which were failings
too common from the numbers that attended. The
oreater the reputation of the patron saint the more
crowded was the assemblage; hawkers, pedlars, and
merchants, erected booths and stalls, and, 1 the turmoil
and confusion of the petty interests elicited by the bar-
tering of the various commodities, less devotion and
reverence were observed, and the holding of fairs and
wakes on the Sabbath called forth the well-merited
censure of the clergy; and the Abbot of Ely, in the
reien of King John, bitterly inveighed against so
flagrant a profanation of a day which ought to be
devoted to religious duties. A like custoin to that
of the feast of dedication existed among the Jews, who
kept an anniversary feast in remembrance of their deli-
verer, Judas Maccabeus. In this country the festival
was held on a’certain day, to commemorate the first
solemn dedication of the church to the service of God,
and in remembrance of its being placed under the
guardianship of some saint. The feast was regularly
kept on the day in every week on which the church was
dedicated ; but so many holidays becoming injurious,
by an act of convocation, passed in the reign of Henry
VIII., their number was diminished, the feast of dedi-
cation was ordered to be observed on the first Sunday
in October, and the celebration of the saint’s day was
laid aside. ‘This was in time disregarded, but it may
have been the cause of the feast being postponed till the
Sunday following the proper day. In most of the
villages on the saint’s day, the inhabitants arrayed
themselves in their best attire, and feasted their friends
and relations, who assembled on the occasion from the
surrounding neighbourhood. ‘The morning was usually
spent at church, the remainder of the day being devoted
to eating, drinking, and making merry. ‘ Firmity,” a
composition of prepared wheat, spice, and sugar, vene-
rally formed a part of the entertainment. ‘The day or
two following, dancing on the greeil, wrestling, cudgel-
ling, and other rural gymnastics, were the appropriate
pastimes. ‘The puritan Stubs, in his ‘ Anatomie of
Abuses,’ 1585, says that ‘‘ every towne, parish, and
village, some at one time of the year, some at another
(but so that every one keeps his proper day assigned
and appropriate to itselfe which they call their wake-
day), nseth to make great preparation and provision for
good cheare. ‘To the which all their friendes and kins-
folks farre and neere are invited.” He further adds,
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
[ AuGUST 12, 1837,
“insomuch as the poore men that beare the charges of
these feastes and wakesses, are the poorer and keep the
worser house a long tyme after; and no marvaile, for
many spend more at one of these wakesses, than in all
the year besides.” Smythe, (Berkeley MSS.), who
wrote in the reign of Charles I., remarks that in his
time on the wake-day of the church at Coaley in Glou/
cestershire, a concourse or fair was held where all kinds
of country wares were sold. The number of young
people ascending and descending the hill called Conley
Pike, and boys tumbling down, especially on Communion
days in the afternoon, afforded much pleasure to the
graver spectators. Aubrey mentions (1714) that the
night before the day of the dedication of the church
certain officers were chosen to collect money for chari-
table purposes; and old John Wastfield of Langley,
was Peter's han at St. Peter's chapel. At St. Kenelin’s
In Shropshire, at Kenelm’s, or Crab-wake, the inhabit-
ants pelted each other with crabs, and even the clergy-
man did not always escape as he passed to and from
the chapel.
‘‘Mumble a sparrow” was an absurd and cruel sport
sometimes practised at wakes and fairs; a sparrow, with
its wings clipped, was placed in the crown of a hat; a
man, having his arms tied behind him, attempted to
bite off the sparrow’s head, but the pecks and pinches
of his enraged antagonist gerierally ensured his defeat.
Another sport, which has likewise fallen into desuetude,
was “‘to whip the cock.” A cock was tied or fastened
in a hat or basket; half-a-dozen carters or farm ser-
vants, each with a cart-whip, were blindfolded, turned
three times round, and placed near the basket; they
then began to whip at the cock, which if either of the
men struck so as to make it cry out, it became his
prize; but usually, not seeing where to strike, they
scourged each other, which afforded much amusement
to the bystanders. A variation from this is sometimes
yet practised in whipping, blindfolded, a ball from a
hole in the eround. |
At the present day, in Wiltshire, the feast is cele-
brated every year on the Sunday following the day of
the saint (which is reckoned by old style), to whom the
parish church is dedicated, when the inhabitants enter-
tain their friends with all sorts of hospitality and merry-
making. - If the saint’s day falls on a Sunday, the feast
is the Sunday after. On the succeeding Monday there
is a revel, with such recreations as wrestling, back-
sword playing, on a stage erected for the purpose, pig
races, &c. In some parts of Gloucestershire the feast-
ing of friends is omitted, and the wake has degenerated
into a mere assemblage of the lower classes, principally
consisting of the idle and worthless, when jumping in
a bag, grinning through a. horse-collar, running for
ribands, and such other unseemly’ practices are ob-
served; in some places the wake is even held on a
Sunday.
The following is a copy of a paper sent in 1836 to
the crier of the city of Gloucester, to announce the
annual Whitsuntide sports at Cooper’s Hill, near Glou-
cester, which will give some idea of a modern wake :—
‘* Coopers hill weke to Commence On Wits monday
Per Sisley [precisely] at 3 o’clock. 2 Cheses to be ron
for; 1 Plom Cake to be green [grinned] for; 1 do. do.
to be Jompt in the Bag for; Horings [herrings] to be
Dipt in the toob for; Set of ribons to be Donsed
[danced] for; Shimey to be ron for; Belt to be rosled
[wrestled] for; A Blader of Snuff to be Chatred for by”
hold Wimine: [old women].”
*,* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledye is at
59, Lincoln’s Inn Fields,
LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT & CO., 22, LUDGATE STREET,
Printed by WitttAm CLowzs and Sons, Stamford Street.
THE PENNY
INE
aa
&:
OF THE
Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge.
349.1]
PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY.
[Avast 19, 1837
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[ Walruses. |
Tse walrus, or morse, (Trichechus rosmarus, Linn.)
in the general shape of the body and position and struc-
ture of the limbs, closely approximates to the seals,
between which group of animals and the Herbivorous
Ceiacea, namely the manatee, dugone, &c., it seems to
constitute an intervening form. Like the seals, the
walrus is clothed with short stiff hair, and its body, of
ereat circumference round the chest, gradually di-
minishes to the hinder paddles; its proportions, how-
ever, are more thick and clumsy. In size this animal
equals the largwest of the seal-tribe, often attaining to
the leneth of twenty feet, and being ordinarily from
twelve to sixteen, with a body superior to that of the
largest ox. But besides its huge bulk, the walrus is
very remarkable for the construction of the skull, and
the character of its dentition,—points in which it differs
from any of the larger seals, animals which, in other
respects, it nearly resembles.
The head of the living walrus is round, and, instead
of terminating in a snout, presents two swollen pro-
tuberances, forming a sort of tumid muzzle, divided by
a longitudinal furrow, above which the nostrils open,
as it were, midway between the lips and eyes. From
these protuberances, covered with thick wiry bristles,
depend two enormous tusks, which, in conjunction with
the bright and sparkling eyes of the animal, give to the
physiognomy an expression of ferocity which its dispo-
Vou. VI.
sition does not warrant. ‘The round form of the head
is not relieved by external ears; a small valvular orifice,
as in most of the seals, being all that outwardly denotes
the situation of these organs. It is on the peculiarities
of the skull that the swollen appearance of the muzzle
and the situation of the nostrils depends. The two
tusks, which in situation and’ character are analogous
to those of the elephant, are imbedded in enormous
alveoli, occupying each side of the muzzle anteriorly,
and rising above the level of the skull; so that the
skull appears as if concealed behind two large mounds
of bone, between which, and at some distance above the
mouth, opens the nasal orifice. The tusks have open
roots, as have those of the elephant; they are directed
downwards, curve gently back, and are compressed at
the sides. They vary in length from eighteen inches to
two feet, and are of a proportionate stoutness. The
lower jaw, which is destitute both of incisor and ca-
nine teeth, is prolonged and compressed at its anterior
angle in order to allow this part to pass between the
huge tusks, and advance to the anterior margin of the
upper jaw, in which (between the tusks) are two in-
cisors, resembling the molars in form, and which, though
implanted in the intermaxillary bone, have by many
been regarded as molars. In young individuals there
are also between these molar-like incisors two small
and pointed teeth, which, however, are soon lost; and,
25
314
indeed, so are the other incisors, for in aged skulls they
are seldom or never to be found. The molars, four on
each side above and below, are short and obliquely
truncate cylinders. The tumid appearance of the
muzzle, so remarkable in the living walrus, depends
then, as is easily seen, upon the enormous development:
of the alveoli, for the reception of the roots of the tusks.
In proportion to the size of the skull, these alveoli are
larger than those of the elephant, and far more promi-
nent; and the skull, instead of rising above them, falls
back and sinks behind them.
The walrus is a native of the polar regions, and in
many of its habits resembles the seals. It lives in
troops, which visit the shore, or extensive fields of ice,
as a sort of home, where they rest and where the
females produce their young. In ascending steep ice-
berg's, cr the precipitous borders of an ice-bound sea,
the walrus uses its tusks with great advantage, and
secures itself from slipping by striking their points into
the glassy surface, or by lodging them amidst the irre-
gularities, and in the fissares or pits of the craggy
mass on which it takes its repose. They are also in-
struments by which the animal tears up the submarine
vegetables on which it im a great measure subsists.
Its favourite food is said to be the fucus digitatus, a
coarse kind of sea-weed growing in great abundance in
the latitudes which the animal frequents. To this fish
and other matters of a similar kind are most probably
added. As weapons of defence, the tusks of the walrus
are very effective; and it is said to use them to great
advantage in defending itself from the attacks of the
polar bear, next to man, its most formidable enemy.
it would appear, indeed, that man has either thinned
the numbers of the walrus, or driven the herds to loca-
lities seldom visited.
We find, in the narratives of voyages to the north,
that in 1704, near the Isle of Cherry, in lat. 75° 45”,
an English vessel met with a prodigious number of
walruses, in a single troop, consisting of more than a
thousand. Of these no more than fifteen were killed,
but the men finding a vast quantity of their tusks,
filled their vessel with them. In 1706 an English
party killed 700 or 800 in six hours, for the sake of the
tusks. In 1708 an English party killed more than
900 in seven hours, and in 1710, 800 in the course of
several days. Of late years we have no accounts of
such a wholesale slaughter of these animals, nor are
they met with in such vast herds, or so freqnently.
Zorgdrager™ informs us that the walrus is abundant
towards Spitzbergen, but that formerly it was much
nore so, and was found in vast herds on the land:
‘but our vessels which go every year to these shores
on whaling’ expeditions have so terrified them, that
they have retired to more remote abodes; and those
which still remain do not visit the land in herds, but
remain in the water, or dispersed here and there on the
ice.’’ According to the same authority, a full-grown
walrus will furnish half a ton of oil, besides its tusks,
which in his time were valued at a florin per pound,
and regarded as superior to those of the elephant.
The skin, he states, was thrown away as useless; it is,
however, far from useless, as it makes Jeather of a
very superior quality, stout and pliant, and admirably
adapted for carriage-traces, or purposes where tough
and thick, but supple, leather is required. ‘ The wal-
ruses, says Zoredrager, ‘“ are as difficult .to be fol-
lowed in an oared boat as are the whales, and the
harpoon is often thrown in vain; for, besides that the
whale 1s more easily hit than the morse, the harpoon
does not glance off so readily as it does from the morse,
and so tough and thick is its skin, that it is not until
after several trials that a strong and sharp lance can
be made to penetrate; it is, therefore, necessary to find
* © Description of Whale-fishing and the Fisheries of Green-
land,’ by Corneille Zorgdrager. Nuremberg, 1750,
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
[Aucust 19,
a place where the skin is well bent or folded in which
to strike, because wherever it is stretched smooth it is
pierced with difficulty ; consequently, the fishermen aim
with the lance at the eyes of the animal, and as the
action forces it to turn its head, the skin becomes folded
towards the chest: in this place the blow is struck and
the lance quickly withdrawn, lest the animal should
seize it with his mouth and turn upon his enemy,
wounding him either with the points of his tusks or
even with the lance, as has sometimes happened. The
attack, however, upon these animals on small floes of
ice cannot last long, for wounded or not the walrus
throws himself as soon as possible into the water, and
consequently it is on shore that he is most advantage-
ously attacked.”
It is only in the most unfrequented spots that the
morse 1s now found. Zorgdrager says, that even in
these places, ‘* those which are met with, instructed by
the persecutions they have undergone, are so on their
guard as to be always near the water, in order to. throw
themselves in with expedition. I have myself had ex-
perience of this on the great sandbank of Rif, at the
back of Worland, where I met with a troop of thirty or
forty of these animals; some were on the edge of the
water, others but at a very little distance. We waited
some hours without going on shore, in hopes of their
advancing farther on the plain, and with the expecta-
tion of being able to approach them; but as we were
baffled in this, the walruses being over on their euard,
we advanced in two boats, passing them to the right
and the left. ‘They were almost all in the water the
moment we landed; hence our chase ended in merely
wounding a few, which, like those that were not hurt,
threw themselves into the sea, so that we got only those
which we attacked in the water.
‘** Formerly, and previously to being persecuted, the
walruses used to advance very far on the land, so that
even at high tides they were at a considerable distance
from the water; and when the water was at its ebb,
the distance being still greater, they were easily ap-
proached.
‘The custom was to advance in front of these ani-
mals, so as to cut off their retreat from the shore to the
sea; they would observe all these preliminaries without
any fear, and each man would often kill one before it
could regain the water. <A barrier of their dead bodies
was made, and men in readiness knocked down those
that remained; thus 300 or 400 were often killed at once.
“When wounded, they become furious, striking from
side to side with their tusks; they shiver the weapons,
or dash them out of the hands of those who attack
them; and at last, infuriated to the utmost, they put
their head between their paddles, and thus roll them-
selves into the sea.
“When in great numbers they become so bold, that,
in order to succour such as need help, they surround
the boats, endeavouring to pierce them with their tusks,
or to overset them, by striking them on their sides: in
short, this elephant of the sea, before it became ac-
quamted with man, feared no enemy, for it could over-
come the ferocions Greenland bear, which we may
regard as one of the maranders of the sea.”
It is only when wounded that the walrus becomes
furious, or when called to act in defence of its mate
or young. ike all the seal tribe, the parents (and
especially the females) display great affection towards
their offspring, and defend them to the last extremity.
They spend much of their time on shore, or on fields of
ice, and shuffle along on their flippers with consider-
able speed, and in the same manner as the seal. ‘The
nostrils are flat, and capable of being opened or shut
at pleasure; and when the animal rises in the water,
from below, it blows like a whale, but with little noise.
| Its voice is loud and hoarse, and often heard to a con-
siderable distance. Captain Cook, alluding to the wal-
1837.]
ruses, which he met with in abundance off the northern
coast of America, says, ‘* They lie in herds of many
hundreds upon the ice, huddling over one another like
swine,—and roar and bray so very loud, that, in the
night or in fogey weather, they gave us notice of the
ice before we could see it, We never found the whole
herd asleep, some being always on the watch. ‘These,
on the approach of the boat, would awake those next
to them, and the alarm, being thus gradually commu-
nicated, the whole herd would be awake presently: but
they were seldom in a hurry to get away till after they
had been once fired at ;—they would then tumble over
one another into the sea in the utmost confusion, and,
if we did not at the first discharge kill those we fired at,
we generally lost them, though mortally wounded.
They did not appear to us to be that dangerous animal
which some authors have described,—not even when
attacked. They are more so in appearance than in
reality. Vast numbers of them would follow and come
close up to the boats; but the flash of the musket in
the pan, or even the bare pointing of one at them,
would send them down in an instant. The female will
defend her young to the very last, and at the expense
of her own life, whether in the water or npon the ice.
Nor will the youne one quit the dam, though she be
dead ; so that if one is killed the other is a certain prey.
The dain, when in the water, holds the young one
between her fore-arms.”
-Formerly, the walruses used to assemble in almost
incredible multitudes in the Gulf of St. Lawrence, at
the setting in of the spring, and take possession of the
Magdalene Islands, which they still visit, but in very
inconsiderable numbers. As the shores of these islands
have a gentle slope, with but few precipitous rocks, they
are very accessible; and here the animals are said to
reinain for many days without food, as long as the
weather is fine, but to hasten to sea on the slightest
appearance of rain. The traffic in the oil and skin of
the walrus, made by the Americans, have both tended
to thin their numbers and to drive the remnant to other
places of refuge. ‘The fishermen are accustomed to
kill them, during the darkness of the night, by torch-
light, by the glare of which the creatures are bewildered,
and fall an easy prey.
It appears that the walrus in early times was known
in England under the name of horse-whale. We are
informed by Hakluyt that in the reign of Alfred (a. p.
$90), Ohthere, the Norwegian, who made a voyage
beyond the North Cape, found that the ropes and
cables in common use among the natives of Northern
Europe were made of the skins of the walrus and
other sea-animals. According’ to Sir Everard Home,
the hinder flippers of the walrus are furnished with
suckers, or an apparatus acting on the principle of
& cupping e'lass as is seen on the foot of afly. The
use of this apparatus is to give to the feet the power
of adhering tenaciously to the slippery surface of the
ice along which the animal shuffles, or up which it
scrainbles, in order that it may have a fixed point from
which to propel itself, or on which to rest; so that by
means of its tusks and fore paddies on the one hand,
and the suckers of its hind paddles on the other, it may
be enabled to traverse the precipitous side of the iceberg,
or leave it at pleasure. This account of suckers on the
flippers of the walrus must however be received with
caution. ‘lo say the least, it wants confirmation, and
until this be gained, we confess we have misgivings on
the subject.
The walrus inhabits not only the icy seas of the
North, but also the polar regions of the South Pacific.
It is suspected, however, that the walrus of the polar
regions of the North is specifically distinct from that of
the South, but we have no certain data for this opinion.
THE PENNY MAGAZINE. '
315
EDUCATION.
(From ‘ Lord Brougham’s Speech in the House of Lords, on
Thursday, June 22, 1837, on the Education Brll.’)
Ir cannot be doubted that some legislative effort must
at length be made to remove from this country the
opprobrium of having done less for the Education of
the people than any one of the more civilized nations of
the world. I need hardly repeat the propositions which
I demonstrated to you two years ago; certainly I shall
not go through the proofs by which I established them,
at great length certainly, but not at unnecessary length,
considering the supreme importance of the subject—
when I showed you from undisputed facts, from the
returns before Parliament, that great and praiseworthy
as the voluntary exertions of individuals in the commu-
nity had been, numerous as were the Schools which
they had established, and the pupils attending these
Schools, yet even in its amount the Education of the
country was still exceedingly defective—the means of
instruction still altogether inadequate to the demands
of the community ; while the kind of, Education afforded
was fur more lamentably defective than its amount.
There are somewliere about 40,000 Day-Schools of all
kinds, endowed and unendowed—Dame Schools, Infant
Schools, and ordinary Schools—in [england and Wales ;
of these about 4,000 are endowed. ‘The whole number
of children taught, or supposed to be taught, exceeds
1,400,000, of which about 155,000 attend the endowed
Schools ; but the population is about fourteen nullions.
Look now to the means of instruction provided in other
couutries. Iwill not resort to France for a comparison :
the exertions made of late years by that illustrious nation
reflect immortal honour upon the Government and the
people. But I prefer taking the example of countries
whose Institutions are less free, countries upon which
we are apt to look down as less favoured than ourselves,
and as far behind us in the progress of improvement,
Look to Prussia and Saxony. With a population of
somewhat above thirteen millions, Prussia has regularly
established Schools, at which above 2,000,000 of chil-
dren are actually educated, being between a sixth and a
seventh of the population, or all children from seven to
fourteen years of age. Saxony, with a population of
about 1,560,000, has Schools for 280,900, or between a
fifth and sixth of the population, that is, all children
from six to fourteen. England, with a population of
14,000,000, has Schools for 1,400,009, or a tenth only
of the population. ‘That we should have as ample
means of education as the Saxons, we must have Schools
for above a million more. ‘That is to say, if, after all
we have already done, we increase our efforts in the
proportion of nearly 5 to 3, we shall still be barely equal
to Saxony ; and then only in the number of our schools,
without saying any thing of the kind of instruction
which they communicate to their pupils. Mankind are
sometimes stimulated to do what is right, to perform
their duty, from motives of a lower order than the mere
abstract love of doing good—the pure and single sense
of duty. When those exalted feelings fail to move them,
the more ordinary, but far from despicable excitement
of rivalry may have a salutary influence. Perhaps we
may be aroused to exertion by marking the superiority
of those other nations ;—perhaps we may be affected by
a sense of shame, when we perceive how far we are
behind nations, upon our superiority to whom we have
been wont to pride ourselves ;—perhaps when we see
that they whose civil institutions we have been accus-
tomed, in most respects justly, to regard as Immeasur-
ably inferior to our own, are in this one point of view—-
in the wrand matter of public instruction—confessedly
our masters, and that without any manner of doubt—
leaving us behind them at a distance which allows no
room for cavil, nor any thing to say = a frank
&
316
acknowledgement of inferiority ;—we may be awakened
to new exertions; the sluggish may be quickened and
the hostile disarmed; and that may be granted to
national rivalry which hicher principles had sanctioned
and purer feelings solicited in vain.
But the deficiency to which I have referred is by very
much the least part of our want and of our inferiority.
It would be well indeed if we had 40,000 schools and
1,400,000 scholars that deserved the name. . The edu-
cation which these seminaries dispense can only by a
most false and flattering courtesy be suffered to pass by
that name. It is for the most part any thing rather
than education. ‘The schools are lamentably defective,
both in discipline and accommodation, and in sound and
useful learning. In a vast number of them there is
little professed to be taught that is worth learning, and
that little is ill taught, so as never to be thoroughly
apprehended, and generally to be soon forgotten. In
very few indeed are the elements of a useful education
fully given; in none, perhaps, or next to none, is the
instruction such as not to admit of great improvement.
It would be good if they taught reading, writing, and
accounts, and taught these elementary branches well.
Many thousands of their pupils are but scantily imbued
with those simple arts. But if they were all made
proficients in them, how unspeakably defective would
the system still be compared with what is wanting to
form the man and the citizen of a polished community ;
nay, even compared witli what is actually taught, and
well tanght, in the French and some of the German
schools, how scanty! ‘There the children learn geo-
eraphy, history, several branches of natural science,
drawing, and music; nor can there be the least reason
why in the seven or eight years devoted to education
all children, of all classes, should not be instructed in
those articles of useful knowledge, instead of being only
taucht to read, and merely made masters of the instru-
ments by which knowledge may be acquired. ‘he
defects of which all complain are universally prevalent,
though in different degrees. In the great towns they
prevail the most; that is, where education is most
wanted and might be easiest had, it is the most deficient
in amount and the worst in its kind. In the great
manufacturing districts, especially in Lancashire, and
in most of the large trading towns, the schools fre-
quented by the poorer children are in such a state that
it is hard to say whether worse provision is made for
their bodily health or for their mental improvement.
Every where, Infant Schools, the most important of all,
are the most deficient ; those seminaries, by the uni-
versal establishment of which alone it is that we can
ever hope effectually to mend the morals of the people
aud prevent the commission of crimes—those seminaries,
upon which I am sure I formerly proved, to the satis-
faction of your Lordships, that far more reliance is to be
placed than upon all the provisions of your penal code,
amend it as you may, and execute its amendments with
whatever firmness and discretion you can bring to the
administration of criminal justice. Of those infant
schools there are in all England not above 3,000,
attended by less than 90,000 children, although there
are at least 1,200,000 children of the ages to which
this most essential training is applicable; and half of
that number, probably, in the towns where it is of such
incalculable importance that it should be applied as a.
preventive of crime. My deliberate opinion is, which I
never shall cease to press on this House and on the
Government till I perceive it is acted upon—that the
people of this country have a right to demand, and that
the Government of this country are in strict duty posi-
tively bonnd to enforce the universal establishment of
those schools, so necessary to the extirpation of crimes,
in all the considerable towns of the kingdom.
———_
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
[Auausr 19,
SKETCHES OF THE PENINSULA.—No. VI..
ELVAS.
Tue city of Elvas stands upon a part of the Zoledo
range of mountains, which enters Portugal a little
above the city of Badajoz, and occupies the centre of the
large and fertile province of Alemtejo (beyond the
Lagus), of which Elvas is the second city in importance.
In the Peninsula each province has its separate eovern-
ment and local institutions, and is defended by its own
troops, who are not removable in ordinary times to
the other provinces of the kingdom. The governor or
viceroy is invested with large powers, but is of course
responsible to the central administration at Lishon.
Each province has, therefore, a capital, where the busi-
ness of the little kingdom is carried on. ‘The nominal
capital of Alemtejo is the city of Evora; but Estremos
has been latterly adopted from its greater security on
account of the protection afforded by Elvas, from which
it is distant about eighteen miles. The works of Elvas
are so strong as to require a large army and a recular
siege before any impression could be made; and thus
opportunity would be afforded to collect the force of the
province to repel an invader. Thoneh ranked the second
city of the Alemtejo, it is decidedly the best fortified and
the strongest, the defensive works being a chef d'wuvre
of the Conde La Lippe Schomberg, and a perfect model
of their kind. Fort La Lippe, situated on a steep hill
at the back of the city, is impregnable except to famine;
and fort St. Lucia in the front, connected with the re-
doubts on either side, is of sufficient importance to cause
much trouble to a besieging force. There are three
gates to the city; the Porta d’Esquina on the north ;
the Porta d’Olivenca in the centre, and the Porta de
San Vicente on the south; all strongly fortified, with
ravelius, cavaliers, and counter-guards, forming a curve
bent outward. ‘The only gate by which strangers are
allowed to enter is the Olivenca, because they are thus
forced to pass one-half of the works, and are exposed
to the observation of a lone chain of sentinels. From
this gate several long and narrow streets diverge into
different parts of the city; and though from the main
street, or Kua de Cadea, is a perfectly straight line to
the gate, the number of openings at this point of en-
trance to the town, are as perplexing as the streets at
the Seven Dials in London, which they somewhat re-
semble; requiring a person to be well acquainted with
them before he can readily hit upon the right one. The
Rua de Cadea is a fine antique looking street, and the
reinains of part of the Moorish houses and towers give
it an air of solemn grandeur and dignity which it would
not otherwise possess. ‘Ihe Cadea or prison stands at
one end of this street, and on the opposite side is the
hospital for the towns-people; an excellent establish-
ment, conducted with extreme regularity, and with
almost military discipline amongst the attendants. The
sick, as in England, are placed in wards, although
separate apartments are prepared for those suffering
from infectious diseases. ‘The hospitals of Portugal
are decidedly the best-rerulated establishments in the
country. ‘lhe street of the Cadea forms the boundary
of the ancient Moorisli town: remains of the old walls
may be traced from end to end; and several fine towers
raise their embattled walls above the houses. The
ancient interior gateways still exist, and through one
of these we enter the Praga, or Great Square (as repre-
sented in our sketch). ‘To a casual observer the Praca
of Elvas would present no object worthy of attention,
except perhaps the singularly-formed tower to the
cathedral or see, which stands at the upper end; but
on closer inspection, the peculiar forms and construe-
tion of the various houses, exhibiting specimens of the
domestic architecture of several succeeding ages, from
the days of Moorish beauty and elegance to modern
times, cannot fail to excite feelings of interest in a
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mind, to which the varying manners and changing
habits of a people are objects of interesting inquiry.
‘The two larve houses on either hand of the gateway,
for the gate itself has long ceased to be, are decidedly
Moorish, and there is an elewance about the lone open
arched terrace in front not to be met with in the houses
of a later construction. Several of the grotesque carv-
ings are executed witha richness and delicacy unknown
to modern Portuguese art, and though the dwelling-
houses of the day are generally erected on the ancient
plan as far as possible, yet there is a want of propor-
tion and finish in some of their best buildings of this
class, which leaves a disagreeable impression on the
mind. The rooms are large, lofty, and paved with
bricks, arranged in various figures, and the windows,
which are unglazed, admit but a shadowy heht from
the latticed blinds, which are about as impervious to
the rays of the sun as the forests of America. The
Moorish houses are better arranged than the Portuguese
Ones, and have a more cheerful appearance, and the
flat roofs and various terraces with their display of flowers
aud shrubs have quite an enchanting effect. Of course
I do not speak of the houses of the nobility, i in'some of
which great taste is displayed, not only in the archi-
tectural beauties and domestic comforts, but also in the
grounds. ‘The fine climate allows them to adorn their
houses both outside and inside with the choicest pro-
ductions of the flower garden, whose beauties serve to
screen many defects, at least according to our notions
of perfection. Many of the houses have piazzas in
front, which, though increasing the size of the rooms
above, add nothing to their external beauty. Some houses
of this description may be seen in the above cut. The
only use I could ever perceive for these piazzas was for
the lazy market-people to lounge beneath, and obstruct
the passage with their roods. A little beyond this
piazza is one of those remarkable pillars so prevalent
throughout the Peninsula. It consists of a single block
of marble beautifully carved. These pillars stood and
still stand before the house of the chief magistrate, and
once served as a kind of standing eallows, the four hooks
with rings being to hang the criminals upon, while
the spikes above were ready to receive the heads of
decapitated traitors. ‘The pedestal stands upon a base
of five or six steps either circular or octagonal. Ad-
joining to this pillar is the main guard-house, opposite
to which is the governor’s house, formerly the bishop’s
palace. It consists of a long range of buildings, occu
pying nearly half the square, and communicating with
the cathedral.
The cathedral is a mixture of Arabesque and Gothic,
in which the Gothic rather preponderates. The ex-
terior possesses not the slightest pretensions either to
beauty or symmetry, except the singular tower, which
forms the front. ‘The interior, however, compensates
for the want of external adornment, and consists of a
nave and two aisles, without a choir; the roof, which
is arched, is supported upon sixteen fluted columns,
and in the aisles each intercolumniation is occupied by
the chapel of some saint. ‘The decorations and orna-
ments in some of these chapels are extremely elegant,
the walls and ceilings being covered with a profusion of
gilded carved work, but the pictures areexecrable. Itis
curious to mark the superstitions of the people. Some
of these chapels are literally crowded with waxen effigies
of every part of the human body, as well as with pic-
tures of sick persons, to whom the saint is appearing,
of course in a cloud of yellow, and red, and blue: these
effigies are offerings of gratitude to the saint for having
effected cures where medical skill was unable even to give
relief. The grand altar which faces the entrance. is
supported by. Corinthian pillars of grey marble, which
are surmounted by a canopy of crimson and gold silk,
beneath which is a large picture of the birth of Christ ;
318
the altar itself is covered with crimson and gold silk of
oreat value, and crowded with silver candlesticks. On
great festivals, and also on some other occastons, silver
busts of six of the Apostles and the first six bishops
of Rome, as large as life, are carried in the procession,
which adds greatly to the splendour, illuminated as
they are by a hundred wax candles, and surrounded by
the priesthood in their rich dresses. The tower will
need no description here. It is accurately represented
in the cut. Behind the cathedral is a convent of
nuns, dedicated to St. Domingo. There is a little
church not far from the cathedral, the walls of which
are surrounded with niches, and in these stand the
dried and withered remains of the sisters of Santa
Clara, the air in this church, or some peculiarity in
the situation, having arrested the progress of decay, and
done the office of the embalmer. Placed upright, and
supported by an iron ring, they have stood for ages:
from some the clothes have rotted off, yet still the
body remains entire, while others are in their every-day
attire, which is uninjured by decay.
As there is no room within the town for public
gardens, the covert way from the Porta d’ Esquina to
the Olivenca gate is planted with trees, and each “ place
des armes”’ is occupied bya fountain, and tastefully laid
out in beds of flowers. At the entrance, near the aque-
duct, the trees and shrubs are cut into the most gro-
tesque forms, four knights on horseback being ready
to dispute the entrance. The contrast between the
green figures and the white faces which are fixed to the
branches in the proper place, has rather a startling
effect, as the figures are well preserved and of a gigantic
size. ‘The walk round the ramparts is also extremely
fine, affording an uninterrupted view of the country
for several leagues around. Here may be seen the
plain and unpretending slabs laid over the remains
of two of our gallant countrymen, Brigadier-General
Houghton and Colonel Oliver; the one fell at Badajoz,
the other at Albuera; both which fields are overlooked
from the rampart where they repose. The inscriptions
are in English and Portuguese, and are simple and
unpretendine. :
IMPROVEMENT OF THE LABOURING
CLASSES.
(From the ‘ Parish and the Union,’)
A Great deal is still to be done for the advancement of
the condition of the labouring classes, by their richer
and more influential neighbours setting about the diffi-
cult and somewhat delicate task of improving their do-
mestic economy, by lessons dictated in the spirit of real
kindness. It is impossible to read the evidence relative
to the condition of the agricultural labourers without
being deeply convineed of the necessity of improving
their modes of housewifery and general habits of living.
They might have enjoyed a much larger amount of
comfort, even with the low wages which were the na-
tural consequences of the allowance system, if that sys-
tem had not had the effect of weakening the ordinary
motives of self-improvement and economy. But now,
with the tendency of wages to rise, there are also the
strongest inducements to adopt the means by which
the resources of the labourers may be more advantage-
ously applied. If, therefore, they were instructed in
the various methods by which this object might be
effected, a most important impulse would be given to
their future well-being; and as their welfare would
so evidently depend upon themselves, the practice
of a more intelligent and economical management
of their ways and means, if once begun, would pro-
bably become habitual, and thus the foundations of a
State of permanent improvement would be laid. The
economical uses of food and -of fuel are the first points
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
[Auausr 19,
to which attention should be directed; and improve-
ment must be first communicated by the classes above
them. A more useful duty could scarcely be under-
taken, though it is one which must be entered upon in
a judicious spirit, and with a sense of the respect which
is due to the feelings of persous who have a claim to
independent opinions, and are apt to regard any inter-
ference with their habits in an unfriendly light. But
besides attempting to show how they might improve
their diet and make their resources more productive of
comfort, there are many other points of their domestic
economy which require to be altered*. ‘The effects of
ventilation and cleanliness, and other means of pre-
serving health, should be made known to them. ‘The
new poor law will Jend its aid to all these collateral
improvements. In recently looking over the reports of
a medical officer of one of the Unions, we found the
following observations appended to a case which had
required his professional aid, and had terminated fa-
tally :— This man lost his hfe simply from the expo-
sure consequent on the ruinous state of the hovel in
which he lived. If the parish had not paid the rent,
this hovel would have been untenanted, and would have
fallen down long ago.” The family of this man pro-
bably became wholly dependant on the parish after his
death ; one abuse of the old system tended to the main-
tenance of other evils, which constantly re-acted upon
and invigorated each other. The owner of cottages,
even supposing that they were not in so bad a state as
to expose their inmates to the inclemencies of the ele-
nents, was under no inducement to fit them up with
the ordinary conveniences on which household comfort
depends, because his influence as an overseer, or a rate-
payer, probably enabled him to obtain the rent, not
from the tenant, but the poor’s-rate; and on these
terms the most wretched labitations would possess in-
mates. ‘This most injurious system is now demolished,
and the builders of cottages will be compelled to make
them more convenient now that they will have to look
to the tenant for the rent. Cottagwes will not be built
solely by those who erected them for the purpose of
diverting a portion of the parish rates into their own
pockets, but tenants must be attracted by greater
accommodations than it was necessary to give to an
Inmate who was never called upon for the full rent.
Nothing appears to have gratified the families who
migrated from the south to the manufacturing districts
so much as the neat and comfortable dwellings which
had been prepared for their reception, and which were
fitted up with conveniences to which they had never
been accustomed. We hope in ‘time to see the agri-
cultural labourers in possession of more comfortable
dwellings, and then they will have a better chance of
escaping the attractions of the beer-shop, to which they
are often led by the absence of comfort at their own
fire-sides.
There are persons who say that good management
is a gift of Providence, as if all of us did not possess
faculties capable of improvement as well as degrada-
tion. ‘The skilled Sussex labourer, who enjoyed the
same parish allowance as the least skilful, had but little
occasion to pride himself on his superior industry or
good conduct, and was under scarcely any inducement
whatever, so far as the pecuniary reward of labour was
concerned, to preserve his character as a good work-
* See the articles Frugal Cookery, Home-made Bread,
Ventilation and Household Cleanliness, Frugal Cookery, with
79 recipes, economy in the Use of Bread and Flour, on the
Use of Rice, and on the Use of Potatoes, in the ‘ Household
Year-Book’ for 1835-6-7 5; also in the ‘Working-Man’s Year-
Book’ for 1835-6-7, articles on Practical Education, Domestic
Management, Cookery fur the Sick, Hints for the Care of
Health, on the Diseases of Artisans and Working Men, with
others on Self-supporting Dispensarivs, Independent Medical Clubs,
and other Economical Institutions. |
1837.]
man. But, in this case, bad institutions hindered im-
provement; and it would be irrational to assert that
the low degree of expertness in their calling, which is
now subjecting a portion of these labonrers to some
suffering, was occasioned by any other cause than that
which evidently rendered thrift and economy useless,
and mocked at the efforts of the man who desired to
keep himself from the parish.’ There is now no induce-
ment to neglect the ordinary means by which comfort
and independence are secured. We should be sorry if
the re-action which naturally follows the termination of
a lone course of evil were not accompanied by a series
of efforts to raise by various means that class to which
the old poor law system dealt out so hard a measure of
injustice. The prevalence of the cholera six years ago
effected some salutary improvements amongst the dense
population of our large towns; but the agricultural
labourers may be more extensively and more perma-
nently benefited, if advantage be taken of all the
facilities of co-operation which the Poor Law Amend-
ment Act renders available, after the social system has
been so long in a diseased state.
state of greater comfort, the first step is gained towards
advancing the moral and intellectual improvement of
the rural population, If their habits or their position
subject them to frequent privations, this effect will
again re-act upon its previous cause; for they will seek
their enjoyments by means which necessarily occasion
hardships and discomforts, and these are again suc-
ceeded by improper relaxation. The contentedness of
the poor depends upon their sharing a moderate portion
of comforts; and when they enjoy these, their pleasures
may be rendered more various, more accessible, and
more salutary in their effects, by imbuing their minds
with useful truths and more enlarged ideas of their
position and interests. But so lone as they possess
neither comforts nor intelligence they must necessarily
continue more or less in a state of injurious depression,
while all around them is advancing. ‘The combination
of misery and sensual enjoyment, of ignorance and
want of feeling and propriety, exhibited in the following
case (taken from the Medical Report already quoted),
is but too common an instance of the evils which press-
ingly call for a remedy, and which cannot be too stronely
urged at this period of amelioration. The case is
taken from columns under different heads—‘S Edward,
Samuel, Jane, and Margaret S , aged respectively
10, 8, 5, 3.” Name of disease—‘‘ Scarlet fever in a
malionant form.” Known or supposed cause—‘“ ‘The
scarlet fever ragwesin this district. The parents of these
children had given them gin in the early stage ; hence
the malignant type of their illness.” Observations—
‘“‘'The parents of these children are extremely ignorant.
The father is a shipwright; he earns large wages, but
has refused to enter a sick club, and knowing that he
had no claim on the parish, was unwilling to provide his
children with medical assistance. I went to see them
at the request of the relieving officer. I found the
father drunk, and the wife roasting a goose for the
Sunday dinner.” All the children died.
We reward as one of the beneficial consequences of
the new Poor Law, the effect which it will have in
creating gradations amongst the agricultural labourers.
The allowance system was one of debasing equality,
which depressed the deserving and skilful labourer, and
did not raise the one who was undeserving and unskilful.
The stimulus to exertion and the hope of advancement,
which are the mainsprings of improvement in every
other class of society, were never experienced ; and the
consequence was a state of hopeless depression. With
the rise of a higher class of labourers, more valued by
their employers, and enjoying advantages which those
beneath them can only attain by improvement in
eharacter and skill, there will be the excitement of
THE PENNY MAGAZINE,
By placing them in a
319
emulation and the prospect of advancement. The man
who has gained a step will be anxious to secure his
elevation, while the one beneath him will endeavour to
raise himself. Those will be cautious not to lose their
station by improvidence, and these will be equally
careful not to risk their future hopes of success in life.
Much we believe may be anticipated from the operation
of motives which have never yet been experienced by
this large portion of the community.
MANNERS AND MODE OF LIVING IN
BERLIN.
Bertin, the capital of Prussia, is, compared with the
other great capitals of Europe,—Petersburg, Vienna,
Paris, London,—like a modern-built and spruce water-
ing-place to an ancient and venerable-looking city.
Formerly it was a village inhabited only by fishermen,
situated on a small rivulet in the middle of a desert,
which has been brought into cultivation by the industry
of the inhabitants. Not having any considerable com-
merce, it possesses only one much-frequented or prin-
cipal street, called Konigsotrasse (King Street); but,
on the other hand, it has a ereat number of handsome
public places, elegant buildings, picturesque planta-
tions, and straight streets. It is on these accounts
dificult for the merest stranger to lose himself in Ber-
lin. Society in Berlin is restricted, and strangers rarely
reside there ; the inhabitants are therefore confined to
‘hemselves, and form a class very different from any
other metropolis in Europe;—so much so, that two
natives of Berlin, after many years’ absence, when
meeting in a different country, will recognise each
other by the first word. They pride themselves on
the purity with which they speak their native tongue,
which gives their speaking an air of affectation; and
this habit is carried to excess by the officers of the
kine’s body-euard.:
The higher classes generally receive a classical edu-
cation, which, however, is too much confined to Latin
and history, omitting altogether science and the useful
arts; time also is lost in the pursuit and consideration
of trifling subjects of information. Young ladies, who
receive a fine, but rather limited and nunnery-like
education, must be treated by the other sex with fas-
tidious attention, as the smallest breach of etiquette
seriously offends them. The artificial manners of the
higher classes are contrasted by the firm and straight-
forward but rather awkward behaviour of the mid-
dling classes, who are not very favourable to edu-
cation, but are exceedingly active and expert in
business. The working-classes are plain, easy, and
affable, and their society is as agreeable as any in
Berlin. The amusements of the higher classes consist
in evening parties, the theatre, concerts, museums,
galleries of paintings, &c.; and country excursions
with their famihes, or sporting. ‘The neighbourhood
of Berlin affords very good shooting-ground, but the
sportsmen who frequent it belong more to the middle
than to the higher class. The more humble citizen is
contented with adjourning in the evening to a billiard-
table (which is attached to every café), and meeting
his regular companions, to sit with them round a large
table behind the high white beer-glasses, and passing
the time with loud laughter and rude jokes. Their
conversation, as might be expected, is not of the highest
order. But very intellizent young men also frequent
these cafés, whose chief topics of conversation consist
in discussions and criticisms on the theatrical novelties,
the actors, the last new opera-singer, concerts, and
other amusements. There are two theatres in Berlin.
Students are also amongst the frequenters of the café;
they discuss and criticise the merits of -the professors of
320
the university and their lectures, dispute about “ To
be or ot to be,’—upon Subjectives and Objectives ;
their discussions being generally terminated by an
adjournment to a wine-house, where a bottle of Bor-
deanx is sold for 18d., and a bottle of Hungarian wine
{or 3s. If here they become a little excited, they will
sometimes venture on political discussion: but they
must be sure that no spy is in company; for one tn-
cautious word may be the cause of several years’
surveillance, or even lead to confinement. There is
nevertheless no town in Europe where politics are,
perhaps, more warmly discussed, the king more freely
praised or blamed, or the constitution more fuily de-
bated, than in Berlin,—but this is always done pri-
vately *.
The condition of the working class is far from being
prosperous; the employers gain. little, and can give
their men, whom they find in board and lodging, “but
low wages.
Among the lower ranks of the population, three sorts
have distingnished themselves, and gained a certain ce-
lebrity in Berlin and Prussia. These are the fishwomen,
the Corner-standers, and the natives of Voigtland. ‘The
fishwomen are as noted as elsewhere for the volubility
of their tongue and rapidity of utterance. Young men
inclined for a joke frequently go to the fishmarket and
try to offend one of them; on heing roused, immediately
she starts up, puts her hands on her hips, and pours
out a torrent of mingled abuse, low jokes, &c., some-
times for a quarter of an hour without interruption.
The ‘* corner-standers”’ are poor, creatures who wait at
the street-corners seeking employment as porters for a
very moderate charge. : They are noted for drinking an
excessive quantity of liqnor, and for knowing all the Ber-:
lin jokes ; for almost every large town has its particular
jokes, and Berlin is celebrated in this respect. ‘The natives
of Voigtland are the most, rude, uncultivated, debased
inhabitants of several quarters in the northern’ districts
of Berlin: respectable people seldom pass through these.
quarters for fear of coming’ in contact with this wretched
and unhappy race. ‘The places of amusement in the
environs of Berlin are very numerous, of which we will:
ouly mention the celebrated and very beautiful ‘Thier-
garten (Zoological Garden, which, however, contains no
animals), with its numerous cafés; the Haasenheide,
or Hare-heath, the Tempelhof Mount, Charlottenburg,
Strecklow, the Wells, aid Pankow : all these places are
crowded, on fine Sundays, to snffocation. The whole
amusement consists in sitting, either in family parties or
groups, round small tables, taking a cup of coffee, or
drinking a glass of punch, and, after thus passing several
hours, to walk or ride home. Besides billiards, young
men amuse themselves with playing at a sort of nine-
pins, cards, and in winter with skating.
The Prussian complains sadly of being prohibited
from smoking tobacco in the large Zoological Garden,
where he can walk a quarter of an hour without seeing
a house or meeting anybody; the practice of smoking
is also prohibited in the streets of all towns and vil-
lages, and in this trivial fact the character of the Prus-
sian police system may be seen, arbitrary even in trifles.
The Prussian civil state officers are obliged in some
branches—for example, in the Post-office, to work very
hard—in others, again, they do very little; all are in-
differently paid. ‘The military are harassed with con-
tinual gater service (small services and exercising). In
winter, during the severe frosts, they are drilled in large
exercising-houses, which are built in the outskirts of
Berlin, and inclose between four walls an immense
* There is much dissatisfaction with the government in Berlin |
since the introduction of the new regulations as to trade, which |
has seriously oppressed the citizens, while the severities exercised
towards the press, aud the close eg whe mes irritate and
annoy the Brigeoct a ee
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
‘milies take ‘coffee in ‘ies morning’ and afternoon.
[Auaust 19, 1837.
space, covered wit a vaulted roof. According to the
regulations of the Prussian conscription, every one
without any exemption is obliged to serve in the army ;
but with the distimction, that any one.who can under-
go the requisite examination, and equip himself, only
serves one year, whereas those who are unable to do
these must serve three years; after which time they are
free from active service, except during war. Substi-
tutes, as in France, are not allowed; disability only
dispenses from serving.
There is a university at Berlin, and numbers of
eymnasia; in all these establishments, however, clas-
sical studies are too much attended to, while science is
neglected: it is otherwise in the excellent Polytechnic
School, opened on Sundays, for mechanics. In the
university the medical sciences are particularly well
taught, and the Berlin University, as well as other
universities in Germany, produce as eminent physicians
as any in the world. . The intellectual part of the inha-
hitants of Berlin, as in most German towns, are fond >
of metaphysical investigation, which ocenpies that por-
tion of thought’and conversation which political mat-
ters do in a freer country ; and well-aware of this, the
study of moral philosophy is much encouraged by the
Prussian government.
The art of cookery in Berlin is only remarkable for
its great variety; it is requisite for a Berlin cook to be
able to make from potatoes twelve different dishes, and
to dress a piece of meat in eight different ways. Fish,
poultry, and game are mucheaten. The general dinner
hour is twelve or one; this is the chief meal. All fa-
The
mode of cookery is highly praised by the natives, but
their hot soups are pernicious both to the teeth and
ne
V illage la ohted by natural Gas.—The village of Fredo-
nia in the western part of the state of New York presents
this singular phenomenon. I was detained there a day in
October ‘of last year, and had an opportunity of examining
it at leisure. The village is forty miles from Buffalo, and
about two from Lake Ere ; ; a small but rapid stream; called
the Canadoway passes through it, and after turning several
mills discharges itself into the lake below ; near the mouth
is a small harbour with a lighthouse. While removing an
old mill which stood partly over this stream in Fredonia,
three years since, some bubbles were observed to break fre-
quently from the water, and on trial were found to be
inflammable. A company was formed, and a hole an inch-
and-a-half in diameter, being bored through the rock, a soft
fetid limestone, the gas left its natural channel and ascended
through this. A gasometer was then constructed, with a
small house for its protection, and pipes being laid, the gas
is conveyed through the whole village. One hundred lights
are fed from it more or less, at an expense of one dollar and
a half yearly for each. The flame is large, but not so strong
or brilhant as that from gas in our cities; it is, however, in
high favour with the inhabitants. The gasometer, I found
on measurement, collected eighty-eight cubic feet in twelve
hours during the day; but the man who has charge of it
told me that more might be procured with a larger apparatus. :
About a mile from the village, and in the same stream, it
comes up in quantities four or five times as great. The.
contractor for the lighthouse purchased the mght to it, and
laid pipes tothe lake; but found it impossible to make it.
descend, thie difference in elevation being very great. It
pr eferred its own natural channels, and bubbled up beyond
the reach of his gasometer. The gas is carburetted hydro-
gen, and is supposed to come from béds of bituminous coal;
the only rock visible, however, here, and to a great extent
on both sides along the southern shore of the lake, is fetid
limestone.—Brewster's Journal, 1830.
*,* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledve is at
99, Lincoln's Inn Fields,
LONDON: CHARLES KNIGHT & CO., 22, LUDGATE STREET,
Printed by Wintram CLowes and Sons, Stamford Street,
Y
OF THE
Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge
346, |
Po GIisHeED VERY SATURDAY.
[Aucust 26, 1837.
A LOOKING-GLASS FOR LONDON.—No, XXI
Markets—Covent GARDEN
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NotTuHinG can be more absurd than the ideas that have
been, and in some places still are, entertained respecting
the general aspect and appearance of London. On the
continent it is a current notion, that, what with the
moist and foggy climate, and what with the sinoke of
so many thousand chimneys, the inhabitants of the
“reat metropolis” but rarely get a decent and satis-
factory sight of the sun. In our own provinces, more
accustomed to coal-fires and vapours, it is thought that
such is the interminable length of London streets, that
a genuine cockney, unless he avail himself of modern
aids to locomotion, can rarely see a green field, or obtain
any other idea of the vegetable kingdom than what
he can gather from a visit to Covent Garden Market.
Now, notwithstanding the size of London, its compactness,
and the value of every space of ground, one cannot walk
the streets, especially in summer, without meeting signs of
vegetation at every corner, and remarking what a kindly
regard is evinced by the inhabitants for trees, and plants,
and flowers. Whatever may be said about the whole-
someness of our city churchyards in the heart of a
crowded popniation, it will at Jeast be admitted that
the trees in them have a most picturesque look, waving
their foliage and casting their shadows over the densest
and busiest haunts of trade and commerce. Almost
every little spot at the corner, in front, or in rear of a
house, that can be secured and railed in, is set out with
a tree or with shrubbery. In some of the poorest-
looking lanes and alleys and courts, we see windows
adorned with a profusion of foliage and flowers that
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might almost rival the daintily-garnished balconies of the
West End. Nay, if in the great thoroughfares we can
lift our eyes above the glitter of the shop-windows and
the crowds that throng the pavement, we may see the
ledges above the shop-doors and the window-sills occu~
pied with flower-pots and boxes of plants. There are
more in the Strand than in Fleet Street, more in Hol-
born than in Cheapside. The reason of this is, that in
the city a great number of the first floors are work-rooms
or warehouses: but let us raise our eyes a little higher,
and at some second or third-floor window, we still
remark that a flower-pot or a box of mignonette gives
an intimation that here, at least, some human heing
sleeps at night, and that the whole house is not aban-
doned to bales and boxes, to cotton-yarn, muslins, and
shawls. .
And it 1s remarkable, too, considering the population,
what a desire exists amongst them to obtain, if possible,
a house with “a little bit of a garden.” In the sub-
urban quarters—principally north, south, and east—in
Lambeth and Southwark, and farther out to Kenning-
ton and Walworth ;—east by the Mile-end Road, round
by Hoxton and Islington, withont mentioning the more
distant suburbs;—along the City Road, and the New
Road, and here and there, in by-roads and by-streets,
we may see vines (some of them not very productive,
it is true) trained up the fronts of honses; and rows of
houses with plots of ground before them, each plot
railed off, and divided, and generally neatly planted.
And as many of these houses are occupied by men of
27
322
business, who are often more expert at driving a
bargain than in digging ground, and who can better
hantile the pen than the spade, employment is given to
itinerant working wardeners, who go about offering their
services to “‘trim the vine,” or ‘“‘do up the garden.”
At the same time, not a few working men (workers
either at the desk, or the anvil, or the carpenter's
bench) can dress their own gardens; and often more
expense and pains would be bestowed, were it not for
those who, more industrious in mischief than good, rise
early, ere the morning begins to dawn, and, sweeping
down the whole length of a street which has gardens in
front of the houses, dig up, with @reedy hands, the
choicest plants, and, seizing such flower-pots as unwarily
are left within their reach, carry all off for sale. The
police is some check to this mean system of thieving,
but it is occasionally done in spite of the police.
As inight naturally be expected, the country round
about London is largely occupied by the growers of
vegetable produce. ‘The Middlesex side of the Thames
above London contains a considerable proportion of
horticulturists; but Middlesex supplies but a small
portion of the produce sold in Covent Garden Market.
The home produce there sold comes from several coun-
ties—a large proportion from Kent. ‘There are, how-
ever, no means of ascertaining the amount brought into
Covent Garden Market. It is only from the casual
comers that an account of what they bring is taken, in
order to settle the amount of toll which they are re-
quired to pay. ‘Those who occupy shops or stands by
the week or by the year, and who sell by far the ereater
part of the produce brought in, merely pay their rents
as they would do in occupying 3 shop anywhere else.
Some of those shops, or stands, held only from week to
week, have continued in the same families through two
or even three generations.
Covent Garden belonged to the abbots of West-
minster, and was termed the Convent Garden. On the
dissolution of monasteries it was given to the Duke of
Somerset; and after his fall it was granted, in 1552,
to the Earl of Bedford. For a long period it was only
used as a pasture-ground, and was afterwards let on a
building-lease. At this time the square was planned
out; and Inigo Jones was employed in designing it,—
the piazza or portico which runs round a portion of the
square being his work. The origin of the market was
casual,—people coming and standing in the centre of
the square with produce for sale gradually leading to
the establishment of a regular market. Though the
market became the best in London for vegetable pro-
ductions, its appearance, like that of old Fleet Market,
which has been removed, was very unsightly, being an
irregular combination of sheds and standings. But
about six years ago, in consequence of the passing of
an Act of Parliament for the purpose, the present con-
venient, thoueh somewhat singular series of market
buildings was built at the expense of the Duke of Bed-
ford, who receives a revenue from the rents and tolls.
The market may be termed a combination of the arcade
and the colonnade, having covered passages with shops,
and colonnades where dealers pitch their stands or
baskets. “One side of the market is reserved for coarser
produce, potatoes, &c.; vegetables and fruit are tolerably
well separated from each other, and flowers and plants
are also assigned a distinct quarter.
Covent Garden Market is a daily market, and is at
all times more or less worth a visit: but to those who
do not object to rise early, and who do not care much
abont the jostling of a crowd, it is particularly worth a
visit in summer, on one of the market mornings, which
occur three times a-week. From about half+past three
till about half-past four there is no crowd in the market,
thongh business is transacting with considerable rapidity.
Industrious men and women are here, who are up
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
[Aucusr 26,
betimes; and here also are the “higglers,’ who act on
the old and veritable country maxifn, that “ the early
bird catches the worm.” ‘These interpose themselves
between the grower and the small dealer, buying an
entire stock from the former at a venture, and endea-
vonring to sell to the latter at an enhanced price.
From about five o’clock, down till seven or eight, the
crowd is great. ‘The greengrocers come jogging in
their taxed carts; porters push through the narrow
spaces with a load of baskets on their heads; and a
kind of subdued clamouring sound echoes along the
colonnades and the piazza, broken in upon now and
then by some sharp vociferous dispute between a couple
of basket-women. Here, against the pillars of the
piazza, are little tables, with tea and bread and butter
for sale; and hawkers thread their way through the
lane of human beings, or occupy a position at a corner,
proffering cakes and buns, combs, knives, and pocket-
books. And, though it is pleasant to see the tea-tables
meeting with ready custom, still the public-houses are
not without their share of customers. One can almost
tolerate the public-houses in Smithfield, open all Sun-
day night and Monday morning, for arduous is the
drover’s work; but tea and coffee would seem a more
fitting refreshment in Covent Garden Market than gin
one” Daal”
A stranger returning from Covent Garden Market,
between six and seven o'clock, is apt to fancy that the
morning is advanced, and that all London is awake.
What a contrast to the bustle, to see some ‘“ early
breakfast-house” just opening its doors to its customers,
or a slip-shod apprentice rubbing his eyes, and pro-
ceeding to take down his master’s window-shutters !
Though Covent Garden is the chief market in Lon-
don for fruit and vegetables, a very considerable amount
is bronght to other places. The Borough Market and
Spitalfields Market, in particular, are very well sup-
plied, especially in coarser vegetable produce; they are
a sort of head-quarters for the sale of potatoes. In the
neighbourhood of the Borough market, also, chiefly in
the main street {of Southwark, leading from London
Bridge, and in adjoining streets, the Hop Drauers
congregate. .
The Corn Exchange, in Mark Lane, is more a na-
tional than a metropolitan market. The building is
large and commodious. In the interior, which is a
quadrangular paved court, surrounded by a colonnade,
the corn-factors have binns or desks, for the purpose of
containing samples of their grain. Purchasers take
out a handful, testing the grain by the usual processes
of tasting, feeling, smelling, and weighing; and, when
a bargain is concluded, the quantity purchased is dis-
posed of according to instructions.
BEGGARS AND BEGGING IN AMERICA.
{From a Correspondent.]
In all my travels through the United States, I never
met with but éwo individuals that asked alms, in any
shape; and even in those two cases the begars, if such
they might be called, were of no ordinary character.
One of them was a good-looking and robust man, in
the prime of life; and was, if his own statement might
be depended upon (which I afterwards found it could
not), a native of Germany—and, at the time I met with
him, had resided five or six yearsin America. He had
emigrated from the valley of the Tyrol, where he had
left a wife and three children; but it was understood
that they should join him as soon as his wife got pos-
session of a small property which she would inherit at the
demise of her aged father, who, from numerous bodily
infirmities, and his advanced age (for he was then
eighty-six), was not likely to make the separation of
husband and family of long duration. It seemed, how.
1837.]
ever, that the old man had lived nearly five years, but
at length he was called to his last abiding place, and
the little property that he had left behind him was
taken possession of by his daughter. According to this
person's account, he had not been idle during this sepa-
ration; for after visiting several parts of the interior of
the country, he had selected’ a situation in the south-
western part of the state of Olio for the future home
of himself and his family. Not having the immediate
means of paying for the land which he had purchased,
he hired himself to the original owner to work out a
part of the purchase-money, at the same time devoting
a few months annually to the improvement of his own
little property ; so that at the end of the five years he
had paid off a moiety of the debt against his farm,
besides having built a small dwelling-house and barn,
upon the 12 or 15 acres that he had reclaimed from the
wilderness. About this pericd he received a letter from
his family, informing him that they were shortly to set
ont upon their journey to join him; and that within a
few weeks after the arrival of the letter conveying: this
information, he might look for their arrival. But week
after week passed away and they came not; mntil at last
another letter reached him with the melancholy in-
tellivence that on their way from Trieste, where they
had embarked in a small vessel to convey them to
Malaga, they had been plundered by an Algerine pirate,
which, after having robbed them of every thing on
board, their provisions included, suffered them to de-
part; and that, after a few days of privation and suf-
fering, they had reached Gibraltar, where they then
were under the humane protection of the governor.
Thus had all his hopes been blighted at the very
moment that he had expected to be once more united
to his lone-absent wife and family. ‘The letter had
been written by the British authorities, under whose
protection his family were, and it called upon him im-
mediately to remit the amount of their passage-money
from thence to some American port, when the first
opportunity would be embraced of forwarding them to
their destination. ‘To raise a sufficient sum for this
purpose was far beyond his means; but feeling the
greatest possible anxiety that his family might join him,
he had determined upon appealing to the sympathies
of a free and generous people, and was degging through
the whole region of country—from the distant part of
the State of Ohio to the city of New York. When I
fell in with him, he was about half-way on his journey ;
and if a long list of names, and the sums attached to
them, could have been depended upon, there would
have remained little doubt of his amassing the neces-
sary amount of money for defraying his family’s ex-
penses lone before he should reach the aforesaid city.
Some time afterwards, I chanced to visit the identical
place in Ohio where the begging German had stated
he resided; and recollecting his name, and the circum-
stances which he had formerly narrated to me, I took
the trouble to make such inquiries respecting him as
fully satisfied, me that no such person had ever resided
in the neighbourhood, and that he and his tale of
misery were alike impostors.
A year or two afterwards, I got permission granted,
for myself and a gentleman but recently arrived from
England, to inspect the large prison at Aubnrn, in the
State of New York, with the chaplain of which institu-
tion [ liad long been acquainted. Amongst a party of
fifteen or twenty persons employed in making shoes, I
fancied that I recognised a face that I had seen else-
where; aud, notwithstanding the disguise of the prison-
dress, I at length bethought me that it could be none
other than the German beggar who had so touchingly
related to me his tale of sorrow and distress in the
absence of his beloved wife and family. Not being
permitted to converse with the prisoner, on the first
THE PENNY MAGAZINE
329
opportunity I mentioned my suspicions to the prison
chaplain, who no sooner heard me narrate the leading
features of the German’s story, than he satisfied me of
the correctness of my suspicions. It turned out that
the whole history of the fellow’s villany was known to
the prison authorities, and that a more consummate
knave never entered the establishment. During several
years he had been carrying on the “ begging scheme,”
first through one section of the extensive territories of
the United States, and then through another, varying
his pity-inspiring narrative according to circumstances,
and to suit the different localities of the country. His
success was prodigious in his begging excursions; but
at length having no new districts to impose upon, or
else like many others in more honest lines of business,
who when they are doing well attempt to do better,
and on engaging in some new schemes do far worse,—
this scheming German joined a party of forgers, who
had been carrying on an extensive business in counter-
feitine’ the notes of nearly all the banks in the Union;
bnt instead of making money by wholesale, as com-
pared with the relat! profits of his beeeing-scheme, a
few months served to show him the folly of his new
adventure ; for one day, while he and some of his new
associates were arranging the respective districts of
country they were to inundate with their forged paper,
a posse of constables suddenly pounced upon them, and
shortly afterwards they were all sentenced to be im-
prisoned for ten or fifteen years.
The other instance of beeging I witnessed in the
city of Philadelphia, in the summer of 1835. One
morning as I was walking alone Chestnut Street—
which, by-the-bye, is considered the most fashionable
one in the city—my attention was directed to a small
Dearborn. wageon, with a snow-white canvas cover,
sheltering alike from the fitful tempest, or the beains
of the meridian sun, an aged and attenuated silvery-
haired nian who was holding the reins of a lean, slowly-
pacing horse, that seemed the very counterpart of the
venerable driver. On either side of the canvass-cover-
ing was inscribed in plain and legible characters the
following sentence :—‘‘ My necessities are great: the
bounty of the benevolent will not be abused.” Under-
neath the inscription, on each side of the humble
vehicle, was asmall slit or opening in the canvas, re-
sembling the apertures usually made in walls and par-
titions for the purpose of receiving letters, bills, &c. ;
so that whoever was inclined to bestow a trifle upon
the occupant of the waggon, had but to drop his mite
into one of the little openings, and there the matter
ended. JI must acknowledge that I was much pleased
with this simple appeal to our sympathies. There was
no room for an elaborate display of what some persons
ostentatiously, but improperly, term charitable deeds,
so there could be little doubt but whatever sums fell
into the secret recesses of the canvas covering were
the offerings of real and pure benevolence. 1 endea-
voured to ascertain if many of the loungers of this
sanctimonious city were charitably inclined; but after
a pretty lone attention to ‘the matter, J went away
somewhat disappointed, having witnessed but two in-
dividuals deposit their offerings, aud these, to the credit
of the sex be it spoken, were both females. Probably
the aged mendicant fared better in situations of less
pretensions to wealth and oentility ; at any rate I never
met with him again, although I afterwards boarded
for several weeks in that very street. On my inquiring
of some of the inhabitants if such exhibitions were of
frequent occurrence, they assured me that this was the
first they had ever witnessed; and I can also add that
these two instanees of begging (peculiar as they were)
were the only ones I ever met with in all ny wander-
ings through the United States.
21 2
THE PENNY MAGAZINE
[Aucusr 26,
BRITISH FISHERIES.—No. AV.
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{ Crab-fishing—Fishermen exaraining their Creels or Crab-pots. ]
‘tig common crab is the type of a class of crustaceous
animals whose external covering 1s of a medium degree
of firmness, between the solidity of the tortoise and the
hard substance by which some of the mollusks are pro-
tected. From the similarity of their form to that of the
spider, the crab, until a recent period, was classed with
the insect series of animals, but it is now assigned a
more scientific place in the scale of nature. Some of
the crab species live chiefly on land, repairing annually
to the sea to spawn. ‘This is the case with the violet
crab, found in large numbers in the West Indies, At
the usual period of migration this species moves towards
the coast, almost in a straight line, and in a compact
and united body. They march during the night, but a
rainy day tempts them to prolong their course. The
violet crab is becoming: scarce in the West Indies, as it
is taken in enormous quantities during its migration.
‘The soldier-crab, which is also found in the West In-
dies, performs its annual migration in the same manner
as the violet crab. It is not more than four inches
long, and resembles a lobster rather than a crab. Some
of the larger of the West India land-crabs were recently
brought to the Gardens of the Zoological Society, but
they did not survive the winter. We shall now confine
our attention to the common edible crab.
The skeleton of the crab is external.
provided with four legs and a hand.
Each side is
The latter is
divided at the extremity into two parts, resembling the’
notched jaws of a pair of pincers.
is moveabie and the other is not.
nished with bristles. The senses of the crab are not
deficient in acuteness. ‘The sense of smell is not want-
ing, though it is not yet known where that organ is
seated. The powers of vision are lively, and are the
result of a complex structure, while the organ of hear-
ing, placed near the base of the antennz, is doubtless
In every respect adapted to its necessities. It is ge-
nerally difficult to surprise land-crabs; their acute-
ness of sight or hearing, or perhaps both, being soon
alarmed. The antenne are the organs of touch. ‘The
One of these parts
The feet are fur-
crab has no tongue, but possesses the organ of taste. It |
wa a
is a voracious feeder, and not very delicate in its choice.
The mouth is furnished with eight pieces or pairs of
jaws; and grinding tecth are attached to a cartila-
einous appendage in the stomach, where the process of
mastication is completed. Hence the crab is said to be
a ruminating animal, ‘The liver is very large, and is
considered by epicures as a delicious morsel... The
blood is either colourless or has a slight blue tinge.
The locomotive system is a highly curious part of the
conformation of the crab, as it is enabled to move in
any direction with equal facility. ‘This is a beneficent
provision, without which its organization would be de-
fective and incomplete. As it is, it .abours under no
disadvantages, but can exert itself as effectually either
in pursuing its food or avoiding its enemies as if its con-
formation demanded only the ordinary means of locoino-
tion. Mr. Milne Edwards thus describes this peculiarity
in the structure of the crab :—‘ The kind of solid sheath
formed by the tegumentary skeleton of the crustacea,
and which includes in its interior the whole of the
viscera and other soft parts of these animals, 1s required
to be so constructed as not to oppose locomction ; con-
sequently there exist, either between the different rings
of the body or the various constituent elements of the
limbs, articulations destined to admit of motion to a
ereater or less extent between these different pieces.
The structure of these articulations is of the most simple
kind; the moveable piece rests upon that which pre-
cedes it by two hinge-like joints, situated at the two
extremities of a line perpendicular to the plane in which
the motion takes place. In the internal portion of the
edge of the moveable piece comprised between the
joints, there exists a notch of greater or less depth,
destined to admit of flexion, whilst on the opposite or
external side the same edge generally elides under that
of the preceding piece. ‘This kind of articulation, while
it is the most favourable to precision of movement and
strenoth, has the disadvantage of admitting motion in
one plane only; therefore the whole of the rings of the
body, the axis of motion being entirely parallel, cannot
move save in a vertical plane. But Nature has intro-
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{Implements employed in Crab-fishing. a, Crab-pots.
duced a kind of corrective of this disadvantage in the
structure of the limbs by changing the direction of the
particular axes, whence ensues the possibility of general
motions being performed in every direction.” ‘This
description of the locomotive system is applicable to
the lobster as well as the crab, and indeed to the crus-
tacea generally...
The crab, and others of the crustacea, would still be
imperfect in a very important part of their organization,
but for another wisely-adapted provision. How is an
animal which resides within a hard substance to find
room for its increase in size? Paley observes that
‘“‘ the provisions of nature extend to cases the most des-
perate ;” and he then proceeds to show the manner in
which the supposed difficulty in the case of the crab or
the lobster is obviated.
in its constitution a difficulty so great, that one could
hardly conjecture beforehand how nature would dispose
of it. In most animals the skin grows with their youth.
Tf, instead of a soft skin, there be a shell, still it admits
of a gradual enlargement. If the shell, as in the
tortoise, consist of several pieces, the accession of sub-
stance is made at the sutures. Bivalve shells grow
big@er by receiving an aceretion at their edge: it is
the same with spiral shells at their mouth. ‘The sim-
plicity of their form adinits of this. But the lobster’s
shell, being applied to the limbs of the body, as well as
to the body itself, allows not of either of the modes of
srowth which are observed to take place in other shells.
Its hardness resists expansion, and its complexity ren-
ders it incapable of increasing its size by addition of
substance to its edge. How, then, was the gtowth of
the lobster to be previded for? Was room to be made
for it in the old shell, or was it to be successively fitted
with newones? If a change of shell became neces-
sary, how was the lobster to extricate himself from his
present confinement? How was he to uncase his
buckler, or draw his legs out of his boots? The pro-
cess which fishermen have observed to take place is as
follows:—-At certain seasons the shell of the lobster
erows soft, the animal swells its body, the seams open,
and the claws burst at the joints. When the shell has
thus become loose upon the body, the animal makes a
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
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second effort, and by a tremulous spasmodic motion
casts it off. In this state the liberated, but defenceles
fish, retires into holes in the rock. The released body
now suddenly pushes its growth. In about eight and
furty hours a fresh concretion of humour upon the sur-
face, i. e., a new shell, is formed, adapted in every part
to the increased dimensions of the animal*.” In Paley’s
time it was supposed that the crustacea changed their
shells annually, but later naturalists do not generally
believe that this is the case. The younger the animal,
the more frequently must it be in a state of ecdysis or
moulting. The young daphnia has been observed to moult
eight times in the short space of seventeen days. When
the crab has attained its full size, there would seem to be
no necessity why this painful process should take place.
Mr. Broderip’s collection, now in the British Museum,
contains a large female crab which was taken in 1832,
covered with oysters and other parisitic animals, The
oysters were some of them six years old. ‘The season of
moulting is preceded and accompanied by fasting and
sickness, and the animal is disquieted and out of order.
The difficulty attending its extrication from the old
shell is sometimes so great, that the animal perishes or
leaves a limb behind. ‘The thinness of the limb at the
joints would render extrication impossible if the shell
did not split longitudinally. Both crabs and lobsters
are endowed with the singular faculty of being enabled
to throw off a claw if they be seized by that part. The
claw is renewed, but is of inferior size. A sudden
stimulus, as pain or fright, will sometimes occasion
them to cast a claw. In the museum of the Col-
leze of Surgeons there is an interesting series of
preparations, showing the process of moulting. The
common crab is unfit for food while in this state, its
flesh being soft and watery; but there are other de-
scriptions which are then in perfection for the table,
which are found chiefly in the West Indies and in
the United States. A writer in the ‘American Cyclo-
pedia’ says, ‘* Myriads of crabs are caught on the
shores of the rivers and creeks of the Chesapeake Bay
when in their soft state, and sold to great advantage,
* Paley’s ‘ Natural Theology, with Illustrative Notes,’ by Lord
Brougham and Sir Charles Bell, vol. 1., p. 344.
326
The epicure who has never tasted soft crabs should
hasten to Baltimore, Annapolis, or Euston, in Mary-
land, in July and August, to make himself acquainted
with one of the hiehest luxuries of the table.’ The
claws of crabs were, and perhaps are still, an article of
the materia medica, being used as an alkaline absorbent
in the shape of a powder. The black part only of the
claw is used. The colour is superficial, and the powder
is whitish grey. The shell is composed of phosphate
of lime and carbonate of lime.
There are various modes of taking crabs—some ex-
tremely simple, and others on a larger and more complex
scale for commercial purposes. In the West Indies the
monkeys adopt an ingenious expedient for catching crabs.
They insert their tails in the holes where the crabs take
refuge, and the crab fastening upon it, the monkey with-
draws his tail with a jerk, and then conveys his prey
ou shore. By what expedient the crab is induced to
release its hold we are not informed, but this must be
ho easy matter, as it grasps whatever it seizes in its
claws with remarkable tenacity. Several species of
birds, which occasionally Jive on shell-fish, obtain the
meat out of the shell by dropping the shell from a con-
siderable height; and the monkeys are probably not less
ingenious in their devices. - The children of fishermen
are often employed in crab-catching, as crabs are found
on arocky beach at low water, hidden in crevices and
under stones. A stick, with a hook at the end of it, is
inserted in their retreat, and the crab, instantly grasp-
Ing it, is drawn out. But only a small number, and
those not of the finest sort, are taken in this manner,
as the largest and strongest crabs betake themselves to
the sea on the ebbing of the tide. On a shore which
is rngged, and abounding in cavities which afford it a |
hiding place, the crab is also taken on a small scale by
another method. At the spot where they are most. nu-
merous, the fisherman places a bait at the end of a
small cord, at the other end of which a stone is tied.
Wheu the tide flows the crab seizes the bait, which it
drags to some hole, and the stone, which it draws after
it, closes the entrance. Asa stone may be dragged in
the water, which cannot be moved by the same power
exerted in a less advantageous manner, the animal finds
itself a prisoner. The stone must be large enough to
close thle entrance of the cavity in which the crab con-
ceals itself, and not too heavy to obstruct its move-
ments. But none of these methods are sufficient to
provide for an extensive demand.
Crab-fishing, as generally pursued along the British
coasts, is conducted by two men who go out in one boat.
In addition to their boat they require a capital of about
10/.; one half for creels, cruives, or crab-pots, and the
other half for lines. These creels (in the south of
England generally termed crab-pots) are made of dry
osier, and resemble basket-work. They are constructed
on the same principle as a wire mouse-trap, but the
aperture instead of being on the side is at the top.
Within the creel the bait, consisting of pieces of thorn-
back or skait, is fastened at the bottom, and the creel
is then dropped in some favourable situation, three
stones of sufficient weight being fastened in the inside
to sink it. ‘The creels are sometimes sunk to the depth
of twenty fathoms, the fishermen being guided in this
respect by the state of the weather or the nature of the
ground. In fine weather they are dropped in from
three to five fathoms deep; but the crabs are chiefly to
be found where the bottom is rocky. A line is fastened
to the creel, and at the upper end of the line a cork is
attached which floats on the surface. By this means
the place where the creel is sunk is known to the fisher-
men, who usually set from forty to fifty creels at one
time. The bait is stspended about the middle of the
creel, and can easily be seen by the crabs, which, enter-
ing at the aperture, find, like a mouse in a wire-trap,
‘THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
[Auausr 26,
that escape is impossible. The difficulty of egress is
increased by the entrance being overhead. Lobsters,
prawns, and shrimps are frequently found captured in
the same creel with crabs. When the fishermen have
sunk the whole of their creels, they have still some time
left to proceed farther out to sea for other fish before
it is necessary to visit them. Crab-fishing is therefore
a valuable addition to their means of livelihood, for it
does not preclude the pursuit of other fish at the same
season. ‘The demand for this species of shell-fish is
usually good, and in the nearest large town on many
parts of the coast it is often fully equal to the supply.
Thither the fisherman’s wife or some of his family may
convey the quantity taken; and, if the market be already
abundantly provided, they can by means of the well-
boxes, although already caught, be kept back for a time
until prices rise again. ‘These are all advantages pecu-
liar to this fishery. When a few hours have elapsed,
the fishermen visit their creels, one of them rowing and
the other keeping a look-out for the floats, and taking
out of the creels whatever has been captured. There
may perhaps be a dozen different owners of boats thus
engaged, and it is therefore necessary to have recourse
to some means by which they may each secure the fruits
of their individual industry without the risk of dispute.
This is accomplished by distinguishing their respective
floats by some peculiar mark—by a notch in the side—
a mark in the shape of a diamond cut on the top—an
angele cut off, &c. &c. The necessity of mutual pro-
tection points out to them the value of combination and
union, and the marks adopted by the fishermen to dis-
tinguish their floats are consequently the result of
some common understanding amonest them; or other-
wise, of an instinctive regard to the means by which
not only one but all are enabled to pursue their calling
in confidence and security.
Crabs are brought to market both in a boiled and
in a raw state. If the market be distant they are
placed in a well-box, which is attached to the outside
of the fishing-vessel, and in this manner they are
brought to Billingsgate from parts so distant as Nor-
way, as will be noticed in the account of the lobster
fishery. The crab is so tenacious of life that it does
not lose its vital powers until two or three days after
leaving its native element. May, June, and July are
the inonths in which it is generally out of season; but
even in these months many may be obtained which are
in a perfectly good state for the table. The male is of
greater value than the female, and has larger claws.
The sexes are distinguished as the cock and the hen.
Before boiling, a good crab is known by the roughness
of its shell, particularly on the claws. When boiled,
the mode of ascertaining its goodness is by holding the
claws tight, and shaking the body, which will rattle, or
seem as if water were in the inside, if it be not in per-
fection. The time they are usually boiled is froma quar-
ter of an hour to a couple of hours in sea-water, or in
water in which salt has been infused. Sometimes they
are put into cold water, which is afterwards heated to
the boiling point; and this mode is believed to be less
cruel than plunging them suddenly into water heated to
a high temperature, though it is alleged they are inferior
for the table when t#e former method is employed.
PLEASURES OF GARDENING.
(From * Loudon’s Suburban Gardener.’)
THERE 1s a great deal of enjoyment to be derived from
performing the different operations of gardening, inde-
pendently altogether of the health resulting from this
kind of exercise. To labour for the sake of arriving at
a result, and to be successful in attaining it, are, as
cause and effect, attended by a certain degree of satis-
faction to the mind, however simple or rude the labour —
1837.]
may be, and however unimportant the result obtained.
To be convinced of this, we have only to imagine our-
selves employed in any labour from which no result
ensues, but that of fatiguing the body, or wearying the
mind: the turning of a wheel, for example, that is con-
nected with no machinery, or if connected, effects no
useful purpose; the carrying of a weight from one
point to another and back again; or the taking of a
walk without any object in view, but the negative one
of preserving health. Thus it is not only a condition
of our nature, that in order to secure health and cheer-
fulness we must labour; but we must also labour in
such a way as to produce something useful or agreeable.
Now of the différent kinds of useful things produced
by labour, those things surely which are living beings,
and which grow and undergo changes before our eyes,
must be more productive of enjoyment than such as are
mere brute matter; the kind of labour and other cir-
cumstances being the saine. Hence, a man who plants
a hedge, or sows a erass-plot in his garden, lays a
more certain foundation for enjoyment than he who
builds a wall or lays down a gravel walk: and hence
the enjoyment of a citizen whose recreation, at his
suburban residence, consists in working in his garden,
must be higher in the scale than that of him who
amuses himself in the plot round his house, with shoot-
Ing at a mark or playing at bowls.
: To dig, to hoe, and to rake, are not operations re-
quiring much skill; and the amateur gardener will
perhaps chiefly value them for their use in preparing
for crops, or in encouraging the growth of crops already
coming forward: but the operations of pruning and
training trees, when well performed, are not only inter-
esting to the operator at the time, but the plants so
pruned or trained afford him pleasure every time he
sees them afterwards tliroughout the season, till the
period returns when they must be again pruned and
trained. Theoperation of striking plants from cuttings
is performed in a variety of ways, according to the
nature of the plants; and may truly be called one of
Intense interest, both in its performance, and in the
expectation of its results. By the great majority of
amateur @ardeners cuttings are made and planted at
random; and their failure or success is, in consequence,
a matter of chance: but a very little scientific light
thrown on the subject leads to rules for operating
which will turn chance into certainty in almost every
case that can occur to ordinary practitioners ; and,
consequently, will greatly enhance the pleasure of per-
forming the operation, from the consciousness that the
labour bestowed will not*be thrown away. We need
not here refer to the operations of grafting, layering, or
sowing seeds ; nor need we mention innumerable other
operations which require to be performed in the course
of the year, even in the very smallest garden; but we
must be allowed to notice the watering of plants, which
all persons can enjoy from the earliest infancy upwards.
What pleasure have not children in applying their little
ereen watering-pans to plants in pots, or pouring
Water in at the roots of favourite flowers in borders ?
And what can be more rational than the satisfaction
‘which the grown-up amateur, or master of the house,
enjoys when he returns from the city to his garden in
the summer evenings, and applies the syringe to his
wall trees, with refreshing enjoyment to himself and
the plants, and to the delight of his children, who may
be watching his operations? What can be more re-
freshing than in a warm summer's evening to hear,
while sitting in a cool parlour with the windows open,
or in a summer-house, the showering of water by the
syringe upon the leaves of the vines or fig-trees trained
under the adjoining veranda, or upon the orange-trees
and camellias, or other exotic shrubs, planted in the
conservatory connected with it? What more delightful
~~
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
327
than to see the master or the mistress of a small garden
or pleasure-ground, with all the boys and girls, the
maids, and in short all the strength of the house,
carrying pots and pails of water to different parts of
the garden; and to see the refreshment produced to
the soil and plants by the application of the watering-
pan and the syringe ?
Even the search after insects is a great enjoyment in
a garden; and in fact opens up an entirely new field
}of exertion and interest to those who have not before
made minute observations in this department of nature.
Fifty years ago the subject of destroying insects was
scarcely considered as belonging to gardening; and
their eggs, which now every young gardener recognises,
in winter glued in rings to the branches of his fruit-
trees, or in spring deposited on the back of his goose-
berry leaves, passed unheeded through their different
stages of development ; and the ravages the larve
committed on crops were considered as inevitable blights
produced by the atmosphere. In the present day so
much of the beauty and the value of the products of
all gardens is known to depend on subduing insects,
that a knowledge of the subject is considered essential
to every gardener: but it is more especially necessary
that the possessor of a suburban garden should know
how to keep insects in subjection; both because he is
wenerally his own gardener, and because insects are
more abundant in such gardens than in those situated
farther in the country, sometimes from the compara-
tively weak and crowded state of the plants, and in
other instances from the absence of those natural ene-
mies of insects, the small birds.
One of the greatest of all the sources of enjoyment
resulting from the possession of a garden is the endless
variety which 1t produces, either by the perpetual pro-
gress of vegetation which is going forward in if to
maturity, dormancy, or decay, or by the almost innu-
merable kinds of plants which may be raised in even
the smallest garden Even the same trees, grown in
the same garden, are undergoing perpetual changes
throughout the year; and trees change also in every
succeeding year relatively to that which is past; be-
cause they become larger and larger as they advance
in age, and acquire niore of their characteristic and
mature forms. ‘The number of plants, and especially
of trees, which can be cultivated in a suburban garden
at one time, is necessarily circumscribed ; but if a
suburban amateur chose to limit the period during
which he cultivated each tree or plant to the time of
its flowering with him for the first time, he might, in
the course of a few years, more or less in number ac-
cording to the size of his garden, have had erowing in
it all the plants in cultivation in the open air in Britain,
with the exception of a few of the larger of the forest
trees; and even these he might also have flowered, by
making use of plants raised from cuttings or layers, or
of miniature trees, made by ringing and rooting the
branches of old trees in the Chinese manner. Inde-
pendently, however, of the variety and change resulting
trom the plants cultivated, every month throughout the
year has its particular operations and its products:
nay, it would not be too much to say that during six
months of the year a change takes place, and is per-
ceptible in the plants of a garden every day; and every
day has in consequence its operations and its products.
Even in winter there is still something to do in every
ovarden, however small may be its extent: the walks
require to be kept in order, and some plants must be
protected by litter or matting; and if there should be
no trees to prune, no ground to dig, no manure to
collect or to barrow out, no dung to turn and prepare for
hotbeds, there is at all events the preparation of naines
or numbers for plants; the cutting and painting of
rods to tie them to, the sorting of seeds, the making of
az
baskets, and the search after information on the subjects
of plants and their culture in books.
But imagine that to the suburban garden there is
added a sinall e@reen-house, or a flued pit! What a
source of amusement and interest does not either of
these garden structures hold out to the amateur gar-
dener during the winter and spring! Exactly in pro-
portion as in autumn the out-door operations become
fewer, the in-door operations of the green-house or pit
become more numerous; and in midwinter the citizen
amateur, if he is detained in his shop or his counting-
house till after sunset, will be under the necessity of
shifting, cleaning, and watering his plants, and other-
wise operating with thei (as some of our friends are
obliged to do), by candle-lieht. A green-house, from
the quantity of glass that it requires, is, for some suburban
residences, too costly to erect; but muchof the produce
of the green-house may be procured at half the expense,
by the use of a pit, which requires no other glass than
the sashes which form its roof. ‘The amusement and
the products which such a pit, in the hands of an in-
genious amateur, is calculated to afford, are almost
without end. Small salading may be produced in it
throughout the whole winter. Chicory roots (though
this may be accomplished in a common cellar) may be
made to throw out their blanched leaves, which form
the most delightful of all winter salads, at least to our
taste; tart rhubarb or sea-kale may be forced in pots ;
as may parsley, mint, and other herbs. Bulbs may be
forced, and a bloom of China roses may be kept up
throughout the winter. But perhaps the most im-
portant use to which such a pit can be applied, in a
small suburban garden, is to preserve throughout the
winter, and to bring forward in spring, pelargoniums,
fuchsias, salvias, calceolarias, verbenas, and other fine |
exotic flowers, and also half-hardy and tender annuals,
for turning out into the flower-garden or into the
miscellaneous border in the beginning of summer. - We
are, however, going too much into detail; we shall
therefore only further allude to the enjoyment which
can be had in every suburban house, and even town-
house, without the aid of a green-house or a pit, by
keeping plants through the winter in a garret (always
the warmest, and when furnished with windows much
the lightest part of a house), immediately under a sky-
light or other window; or by keeping them near a
window in the ordinary rooms.
St. Marylebone Savings’ Bank.—The ‘ Penny Maga-
zine, No. 291, contains a notice of the savings’ banks in the
metropolis, in which special reference is made to the St.
Marylebone bank. In this bank the depositors are classed
according to their respective trades, occupations, and call-
ings. The number of depositors was then (November, 1835),
6470, and the sum invested amounted to 14/. 8s. 74d. each
on an average, the total sum deposited being 93,3747. Is. 8d.
A return has been just prepared, showing the accounts
standing open on the 5th of July, 1837; and in this interval
of about nineteen months, a gratifying addition has been
made to the funds of the institution, and the cirele of those for
whose benefit it was established has been greatly extended.
At the latter date, the number of deposit accounts was 9410,
and the sum invested in the hands of the National Debt
Commissioners amounted to 143,481/,, being on an average
15/. 4s. 11d. for each depositor. The increase in the total
number of depositors is 45 per cent.: in the number of
female servants it is 47 per cent., and in dress-makers, mil-
liners, needle-women, and shopwomen, 45 per cent.; while
the increase in the number of male servants who have be-
come depositors 1s 42 per cent.; of mechanics, artisans, and
nandicraftsmen, 37 per cent.; and of clerks, shopmen, and
warehousemen, 31 percent. The increase in the number
of children, and the youth of each sex who have made de-
posits, is—males, 42 per cent.; females, 31 percent. The
trust accounts, which are chiefiy for the benefit of children,
are rather more than doubled since November, 1835, the
number now open being 2083, The following view of the
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
[Auaust 26 1837,
state of the institution on the 5th of July during each year
since its establishment is highly satisfactory. The last co-
lumn indicates the fact, that when once habits of economy
are begun, the advantages experienced from such a wise
course are so obvious as to lead to their permanent influ-
ence, and consequently to a larger investment in the savings’
bank :—
Far eee: ee a Pre ROTOR a) ad 2
Sums invested Average Sum
Open Deposit
vith National D ving to e:
bi Aceounts. ‘Conceal ee
£. Je Sole
1831 1,013 10 240 10 2 2
1832 1,617 18,096 11 3 98
1833 2,832 36, 283 1216 24
1834 4320 60,159 13 18 6
1835 5 805 82,692 14 4 103
1836 7,635 116,430 15 4113
1837 | 9,410 143,481 | 15 14 11
Pronunciation.—To pronounce correctly, or rather accord-
ing to a received standard, is made a great point of by
many of the higher classes. They have fixed the standard
themselves, and as it is dependent on no rule, and varies a
little from time to time, it 1s not so certainly attained by
mere mental exertion as many other acquirements of infi-
nitely greater value. Still, by consulting a pronouncing
dictionary, and by an inquiry now and then of a kind
friend, who has enjoyed the advantage of a regular educa-
tion, this petty distinction may be obliterated. In every
class, high and low, there will, I fear, always be many who,
being denied the power of distinguishing themselves in
things ‘of worth, and where the contest is open to all, solace
their complacency by an effeminate attention to trifles, in
which some have not the means of competition with them,
and others do not condescend to use them. The highest
minds will judge of you by the sense that you utter, and
will care little for any slight peculiarity of sound in which it
may be clothed ; but it will never do, in this world, to think
only of the best and the wisest: and in things indifierent in
themselves there is no reason why we should not conform to
the prevailing habits and manners of our time. I*ew ven-
ture altogether to disregard the laws of fashion, even in their
clothes, and there is certainly something more to be said for
uniformity in speech than in dress.—Answer to a Letter
Jrom the Secretary of a Society for Political Instruction,
formed by Working Men, asking for Advice on the Con-
duct of such Institutions, by M. D. H.
American Mechanics.—On entering the house of a re-
spectable mechanic, in any of the large cities of the United
States, one cannot but be astonished at the apparent neat-
ness and comfort of the apartments, the large airy parlours,
the nice carpets and mahogany furniture, and the tolerably
good library, showing the inmates’ acquaintance with the
standard works of Iinglish literature. These are advan-
tages which but few individuals of the same class possess,
by way of distinction, in Europe, but which in America
are Within the reasonable hopes and expectations of almost
all the inferior classes. What a powerful stimulus is not
this to industry ? What a premium on sobriety and unex-
ceptionable conduct? A certain degree of respectability is,
in all countries, attached to property, and is, perhaps, one of
the principal reasons why riches are coveted. A poor man
has certainly more temptations, and requires more virtue to
withstand them, than one who is 1n tolerable circumstances.
The motives of the rich are hardly ever questioned, while thie
poor are but too often objects of distrust and suspicion.
Pauper ubtque jacet. The labouring classes in America are
really less removed from the wealthy merchants and pro-
fessional men than they are in any part of Europe; and the
term “mob,” with which the lower classes in England are
honoured, does not apply to any portion of the American
community. With greater ease and comfort in his domestic
arrangements, the labouring American acquires also the
necessary leisure and disposition for reading ; his circle of
ideas becomes enlarged, and he is rendered more capable of
appreciating the advantages of the political institutions of
his country.— Grund's Americans.
#.* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at
59, Lineoln’s Inn Fields.
LONDON: CHARLES KNIGHT & CO., 22, LUDGATE STREET,
Printed by WILLIAM CLowEs and Sons, Stamford Street.
Monthly Supplement of
THE PENNY MAGAZINE
OF THE
society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge.
347, ]
July 31 to August 31, 1837,
THE CHANNEL ISLANDS.—No. I.
JERSEY
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[ View of Fort Regent. }
A portion of the coast of Normandy opposite Dorset-
shire projects from the mainland, like a kind of natural
pier. On the west side of this peninsula (which con-
stitutes a main portion of the department of La Manche)
and within the bay which it forms, lie the CHANNEL
Isuanps. The largest of these islands are Jersey and
Guernsey; in addition, there are Alderney, Serk or
Sercq, Herm, Jethou, and a great number of islets and
rocks. “The Caskets” are a series of rocks a little
to the west of Alderney: there are three lighthouses
erected on them. In fact, the whole of the capacious
bay of St. Michel’s is studded with rocks, which cause
currents that are at all times more or less dangerous to
small boats, and hazardous to large vessels in squally
weather.
Viewing the Channel Islands geographicaily, they
belong to France as much as the Isle of Wight does to
England. ‘They are within sight of the French shores ;
Alderney being only about seven or eight miles from
Cape la Hogue, at the extremity of the peninsula of La
Manche ; the manners and customs of the people, though
now considerably modified by an infusion of English
notions, are French; the language in which religion
and law are administered is French; and the verna-
cular of the natives is a kind of provincial French. It
appears, therefore, at first sight a matter of surprise
that these islands should have remained so long an
appendage of Eneland.
As part of the duchy of Normandy, the Channel
Islands became connected with England when the |
VoL. VI.
Duke of Normandy obtained possession of the English
crown. They were held independently of England
when the conqueror’s son Robert reigned as Duke of
Normandy ; but were again united to England when
Henry I. obtained possession of the duchy. The pecu-
liar privileges of the Channel Islands date from the
reign of John. ‘The Rev. Philip Falle, who was rector
of St. Saviour’s, in Jersey, in an account of the island
which he published in 1694, speaks with gratitude of
John. Mentioning the loss of Normandy in his reign,
he says, ‘‘ The French, having thus possessed themselves
of Normandy, invaded these islands. Twice they
entered them, and twice they were beaten out of them
again. ‘The inhabitants had, under their dukes, con-
tracted a great aversion to the French, and stood stoutly
on their own defence. The king himself, looking on them
as the last plank left of so great a shipwreck, and that
they would always serve to show his right to that duke-
dom to which they had once belonged, and might
perhaps one time or other be a means to recover if,
resolved to keep them whatever they cost him; and
accordingly hastened himself over thither, and was twice
in person in Jersey, which he caused to be fortified,
and gave special order for the custody and safeguard of
the castles and ports, which before lay too open to the
enemy. To this king, therefore, we owe our preser-
vation. From him we have many excellent laws and
privileges, which he granted us at his being here, and
which have been confirmed to us in after times.”
During the wars that have been since waged between
7 2U
330
Eneland and France, and between rival parties in
England, though the Channel. Islands did not escape
molestation, yet, considering their position, they. have
wot off wonderfully well. ‘They suffered in the reign
of Edward III., when, for some years, they were par-
tially in possession of the French. Du Guesclin, one
of the flowers of chivalry in those days, led himself an
expedition against Jersey, which proved unsuccessful.
They suffered also a little during the struggle between
the houses of York and Lancaster; and in the unhappy
civil wars, tle Channel Islands boast of having been
the last of the dominions of the Charleses that were
compelled to desert the royal cause, and submit to the
Parliamentary forces. From that time down to 1779
there appears nothing worth mentioning in the warlike
history of the Channel Islands. In that year a French
fleet appeared off Jersey, and endeavoured to land
troops, but in vain. A more successful effort was made
in the beginning of 1781. Baron de Rullecourt landed
with troops, and surprised and took prisoner Major
Corbet, the eutenant-eovernor of Jersey, who, at the
time, was in bed, and doubtless not even dreaming of
French invasion. Partly by false representations, and
partly by threats of burning and destruction, the French
commander prevailed on Major Corbet to sign a capi-
tulation, and to issue an order for the submission of the
inhabitants and the troops. But Major Pierson, of the
95th regiment, having under him the regular troops,
the island militia, and the artillery, refused to submit ;
and, coming down upon the French, forced an engage-
ment. Both Baron de Rullecourt and Major Pierson
were mortally wounded, but the French surrendered
prisoners of war. Major Corbet was afterwards tried
by a court-martial, and dismissed the service. ‘This
attempt was the last that was made on the Channel
Islands, though several attempts have been threatened.
The truth is, the best security of the Channel Islands
down to the present century has lain in their compa-
rative insignificance, and, we may add, the rocks and
currents around them*, The inhabitants, however, have
always evinced a kindly disposition towards England
in preference to Fraice. In’an address delivered to
Wilham and Mary in 1692, by a deputation of whom
the Rev. Mr. Falle was one, the inhabitants of Jersey
express a hope that their’ majesties “‘ will believe that,
though our tongues be French, our hearts and swords
are truly English.’- Still, down to within the last
thirty years, the people of the Chanuel Islands knew
very little about Iengland, and the people of England
knew scarcely anything of the Channel Islands. ‘The
Channel Island people were mainly farmers, a few fish-
ermen, a smaller number traders. Governed by their
own laws, wrapped up in their own affairs, and speak-
ing their own dialect of French, they knew and cared
very little about any other worlds than the worlds of
Jersey and Guernsey. |
The French Revolution, and the war, or rather series
of wars, ending,with the battle of Waterloo, effected a
considerable change. The first event sent a large num-
'* Falle says, “ That vast and amazing chain of rocks that
envirdneth on all sides this island [Jersey ]—some above, some
under water, and the many strong currents and tides that run
betwixt these rocks, render the access to the island very difficult
and full of hazard to those that are not well acquainted with the
coast ; and doubtless the place is nore beholden to nature than
art for the strength of it. The Jersey people, however, do not
undervalue their own exertions in defending the island. Colonel
Le Couteur, who was sent as one of the Jersey deputies to London,
to defend the island charters, says, in a letter addressed officially
to yovernment (dated April, 1835), Jersey has been invaded
eleven times;” then, after enumerating cach time, ending with
the attack of Rullecourt in 1781, he adds,—“ All these attacks,
but the two last, having been resisted singly by Jerseymen, the
sovereigns of England have conferred on them special favours by
charters and grants, which afford the riynt of freedom from re-
straint in commerce, which was of no value in war time, but since
the peace has been turned to use,”
MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF
[Aucust 31,
ber of French refugees into Jersey, who brought money
with them. Then, during the busy and important
period that followed the French Revolution, more troops
were in the islands, old fortifications were strengthened,
new were built, Martello towers were set up, not only on
the shores, but on rocks lying off the shores, and British
money began to flow freely. ‘Then did the little shop-
keepers and traders of Jersey lift up their heads. ‘The
close of the war was regarded with apprehension, as
likely to cut off the means by which the trade was sus-
tained. But among the many military and naval offi-
cers who, when peace came, found their half-pay too
limited for their support in expensive England, and
who therefore looked abroad, not a few selected Jersey
as a residence, the cheapness of living being their
attraction. ‘I’his sustained the rising consequence of
Jersey; and facility of communication, that wonder-
| working influence of our age, has come in to carry
forward the increase and improvement of the island.
When Falle wrote, he estimated the population of
Jersey at 20,000. A century had made but little dif-
ference, supposing his estimate near the truth; for in
1806, on an island census being taken, it was reckoned
at 22,855. The censusof 1831 gave 36,582, the popu-
lation having increased 8000 during the preceding ten
years. In an official statement, made in 1834, the po-
pulation was then estimated at 38,000; and it is added,
‘upwards of 10,000 persons visit Jersey annually—
some remain a length of time in the island.”
The Post-office point of communication between the
Channel Islands and England is Weymouth. ‘There
1s, however, a very considerable intercourse between
Southampton and Jersey and Guernsey. When the
railroad from London to Southampton is finished, a
London citizen, having only a couple of weeks to spare
for a jaunt, may visit easily and cheaply the Channel
Islands, enjoying a pleasant excursion. A Sonthampton
steam-boat company, during the present summer, ad-
vertised its fares to Jersey at 10s. and 5s.—the more
usual fares are 15s. and 25s. The steam-boats from
Southampton touch at Cowes, in the Isle of Wight ;
then stretching across the channel in a south-westerly
direction, call at Guernsey and go on to Jersey.
Jersey is in form an irregular parallelogram, about
ten miles long and five broad. Its greatest length,
from south-east to north-west, is about twelve miles.
Its circumference, taking all the sinuosities and wind-
ings, 1s nearly fifty miles. Its superficies contains about
40,000 acres. ‘The surface of the island slopes from
north to south—the whole of the northern coast, with
the eastern and western shoulders, being composed of
lofty, precipitous cliffs, while the southern shore, though
fringed with. crags and beds of rock, lies low, and has
a considerable portion of sandy beach. ‘The whole cir-
cumference of the island is indented by bays, coves, and
inlets.
Jersey 1s locally divided into twelve parishes, each
with its old-fashioned parish-church. ‘The town of
St. Helier’s, the only town in the island, (for ali the
other collections of houses have no claim to a higher
title than hamlets or villages) lies in the parish of thé
Same naine, on the southern shore; not far from St.
Helier’s is St. Saviour’s; south-west of St. Helier’s,
on the sea-shore, is St. Brelades; St. OQuen’s. is on
the western side of the island; St. Mary’s, St. Peter’s,
and St. Lawrence’s may be termed inland churches;
not far from the north coast are St. John’s and Trinity ;
and on the east are St. Martin’s, Grouville, and St.
Clement's. ; .
St. Helier’s, we have said, is on the southern shore;
it lies on the eastern side of the beautiful bay of St.
Aubin's. In proceeding to St. Helier’s from England,
we sail by the western side of Jersey, turn round by
the craggy south-western corner of the island, pass
St. Brelade’s Bay, and rounding Noirmont Point, a
projecting rock forming the south-western extremity of
St. Aubin’s Bay, sail across the bay to its eastern side,
passing the rock on which stands Elizabeth Castle,
described in No. 250 of the ‘ Penny Magazine.’ ‘* The
shore at low water,” says the late Mr. Inglis, in his
excellent account of the ‘Channel Islands,’ ‘‘ to one
approaching from England, presents a most rugged
and uninviting aspect.” This is owing to the great
rise and fall of the tide, which along the southern shore
of Jersey is upwards of forty-five feet, when of course,
at low water, the rocks that fringe the shore are left
bare. ‘* But,” continues Mr. Inglis, “‘ it was my good
fortune to arrive at high water; and 1 believe no one
in such circumstances can sail round Noirmont Point,
and stretch across the mouth of St. Aubin’s Bay towards
the harbour of St. Helier’s, without the most lively
admiration of the scene. ‘There is indeed all that con-
stitutes the beautiful and the picturesque; there is the
noble brim-full bay, stretching a fine curve of many
miles ; its sloping shores charmingly diversified with
wood and cultivated fields, and thickly dotted with
villas and cottages: there is, on the left, close to the
vessel as she sails by, the grey and imposing fortress
called Elizabeth Castle, built on a huge sea-girt rock,
while in front is seen the town, commanded by its lofty
stronehold, and backed by a fine range of wooded and
cultivated heights.”
The ‘lofty stronghold,” alluded to in this extract
from Mr. Inglis’s work, is Fort Regent, of which a
view is given in the first page of this Supplement. Its
foundations were laid in 1806. (See the Number of
the ‘ Penny Magazine’ in which a description of Eli-
zaheth Castle is given.) Fort Regent is seen over-
topping the buildings from every part of the town and
nei~hbourhood, and an extensive view is obtained from
it of the town and bay below, and of a large part of
Jersey.
Of St. Helier’s, Mr. Inglis says,—** Little is seen of
the town, in entering the harbour, or in making one’s
way to any of the hotels; and that little is the worst
part of it. At Jersey, as “at other ports, whether of
England or of foreign countries, the traveller is annoyed
by the importunities of porters; but there is one annoy-
ance from which he is free,—he may take his carpet-
ag | in his hand ‘if he please, without asking leave of a
ustom-house officer ; ; and he may have the satisfaction
of seeing his trunks carried before him to the hotel,
without the tedious delays incident to revenue regula-
tions. This puts one in too good a humour to find
fault with porters.”
The town of St. Helier’s is nothing more than what
a thriving bustling little sea-port town may be expected
to be, with lodging-houses and hotels, a court-house,
and a market, an old parish church, and a modern
district one, built in what is called the Gothic style,
two or three dissenting chapels, a theatre, and shops
that of late years have partaken of the general spirit of
improvement, and exhibit something of a smart appear-
ance. alle reckoned the population of St. Heller's
at 1000; in 1831 it was 16,000.
Having inspected the town and its environs, visited
Elizabeth Castle with the rock adjoining, where, ac-
cording to the legend, St. Helier the her a eects and
inspected Fort Regent, the next object will be to obtain
a distinct view of the island previous to setting out on
an excursion throngh it or round it. This is obtained
from La Hougue Bie, or Prince’s Tower, a singular
structure, erected on a high artificial mound, about
three miles from St. Helier’s. The road to it climbs
the heights at the back of the town, passing St. Saviour's
Church, from the churchyard of which there is an ex-
_cellent view over the town, the adjoining country, and
St. Aubin’s Bay. “‘ The view from Prince’s Tower,”
THE PENNY
MAGAZINE, ° a3
says Mr. Inglis, “ immediately begets a desire to range
over the island—to penetrate into the valleys and ra-
vines—to wander through the fields, pastures, orchards,
and gardens—and to descend to the bays and creeks,
which one pictures full of quiet and beauty: and, for
my own part, I was not long in yielding to this desire.
*‘ Kvery place has its lions ; every district in every
travelled country under the sun has its accustomed
drives; and the traveller who visits Jersey for a few
days, for the purpose of seeing the island, will be placed
in a jaunting-car, and carried across the island,—or
taken the great round, and little round,—and be told
he has seen Jersey. But there are many valieys up
which the jaunting-car never travels,—many deep dells,
where there are no roads for cars,—manya tiny rivulet,
that waters into fertility green meadows dotted with
cattle that seldom raise their heads to look on the
stranger,—many little coves, inlets, aud creeks, to which
there is no trodden path; and therefore the traveller
who seats himself in his vehicle gains but a very im-
perfect knowledge of the outward aspect and natural
beauties of Jersey.”
But, with all deference to this intimation, if it be
true that it is better to see a place even in a hurry than
not to see it at all, the many, who can now take excur-
sions of which they would scarcely have dreamed a
few years ago, need not be deterred by the want of
sufficient time from visiting Jersey. The island is not
so large, and a very good idea may be obtained of it in
four or five days. ° Making St. Helier’s the head-
quarters, a day may be given to the east coast and
Mount Orgueil Castle; another may be given to the
west ; and two may be devoted to the rocks, caves, and
bays of the north coast. The drives across the island
will give some idea of its beauty and fertility; while
the return to St: Helier’s each evening will be com-
paratively easy, as the greatest distance from the town
cannot exceed eight miles.
And here we may mention one circumstance which
has done much to open up Jersey to the inspection of
the visiter—the new military roads across the island,
and round it, which were made about twenty years ago.
Mr. Inglis says, it is impossible to gain any accurate
notion of the interior of Jersey by following the great
roads only; and speaking of the curious old winding
island-roads, he says,—‘* By the stranger whio visits
Jersey these roads are altogether SR acre) ; and even
in the little guide-books which from time to time have
been written,—very nice little books in many respects
—there is no counsel given to follow these roads; nor
any mention made of thein, excepting as roads which
have been entirely superseded by the better and more
modern communications.”
But we must recollect that Mr. Inglis had a fine eye
for scenery; he loved to linger in secluded, qniet, out-
of-the-way spots, and, like a cenuine traveller, cared
but little for personal inconvenience. These roads are
specimens of ingenuity in the art of making tortuous
paths; and there are many who, after taking his advice,
and puzzling themselves wandering hither and thither,
would return disappointed. ‘‘ Once plunge,’ he admits
himself, *‘ into these bye-ways, and you cannot tell when
you may emerge from them. ‘Their number is almost
unaccountable; they branch off -at all angles; and it
sometimes lappens that the shade is so deep, and the
banks so high, to say nothing of the windings,—-that
one may walk for miles without having any opportunity.
of judging where One is, or in What direction one has
been moving.’ Dr. Scholefield, in Mr. Inglis’s book,
expresses himself less partially, but more justly, about
these old roads than Mr. Inglis does. One object in
the construction of the old song was to puzzle pirates,
or an enemy, in former days, and retard or .obstruct
their attempts to conquer the island. Speaking of the
2U 2
332.
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[ View of Mount Orgueil Caete=sW omen gathering Sea-weed. |
lofty embankments, Dr. Scholefield says that they
“prevent both sun and air from penetrating the quag-
inires, called roads, that lie between them; and which,
being no longer wanted as defences against the inva-
sions of the French, seem at present to serve no other
purpose than to preserve unmolested, during half the
year, those foetid and unwholesome airs that are gene- |
rated from the slow decomposition of an exuberant
foliage.” Though the new roads have been of immense
benefit, especially to the Jersey agriculturist, there was
a fierce, though ineffectual, opposition to their con-
struction !
The old roads are extremely narrow, and are almost
all over-arched with trees. In winter they are dark and
wet, and the air in them is damp: but in summer they
afford a protection from the heat of the sun. The
visiter of Jersey, while keeping mainly to the new and
open roads, which are excellent, may diverge occasion-
ally into the bye-paths. ‘It is in such walks that you
will see the cows, celebrated all over the world, breed-
ing’ for export; and the loaded trees, blooming with
blossom, or bent with the fruit, to be afterwards con-
verted into the great export of the island. I should
like much to know how many miles of these old roads
Jersey contains, Considering their numerous branches
and sinuosities, and the diameter of the island which
they intersect, I should guess their whole extent to be
not less than from 300 to 400 miles; and several per-
sons with whom I have spoken, and who are well ac-
quainted with the island, consider this to be greatly
below the truth*.”
The first day’s excursion may be given to the east
coast of Jersey. Quitting St. Helier’s, and passing St.
Saviour’s, we may visit La Hougue Bie; and from
thence pass on to Mount Orgueil Castle, and its neigh-
bour, the little town or village of Gorey, the seat of the
Jersey oyster-fishery. Mount Orgueil Castle (Orgueil
is lofty or proud) has some interesting recollections
connected with it. Here, for atime, lived Charles II.
during the days of his wandering, before he came to
that throne, the possession of which he so srossly abused ;
and here for three years was imprisoned one of the
victims of the ignorance and evil passion of the age,
* Inglis, vol. i.) p. 42.
William Prynne. Prynne was the victim of bigotry,
yet he himself had much of the bigot in his spirit and
prejudices. In a petition to the House of Commons,
in 1641, he complains that he was sent from Carnarvon
Castle to Jersey ‘Sin a bruised shipwrackt vessel, full of
leakes, and after foureteene weekes voyage in the winter
season, through dangerous stormes and seas, which
spoyled most of his stuffe and bedding, and threatening
often shipwrack to him, he arrived at the said isle, and
was conveyed close prisoner into Mont Orgatile Castle.”
Yet this heroic and dauntless sage of the law, who for
the freedom of his speech and writing was fined, put in
the pillory, had his ears cropped, and was sent from
prison to prison, makes it one of his complaints in his
petition that some of his fellow-prisoners and passengers
to Jersey were Roman Catholics, with whom he was
compelled to associate! Inglis says that while Prynne
was in Mount Orecueil Castle he celebrated it in verse,
and entitled his poem “ A poetical description of Mount
Orgueil Castle, in the Isle of Jersey, interlaced with
some brief meditations from its rocky steep, and lofty
situation.” But Inglis doubtless quoted the title at
second hand. The book is perhaps scarce, at least there
is not a copy of it amongst Prynne’s works in the
Library of the British Museum. In a catalogue of his
works, printed by his bookseller in 1643, two books
are set down as having been composed in Mount
Orgueil Castle. One has this title :—* Mount Orcueil ;
or Divine and Profitable Meditations raised from the
Contemplation of these three leaves of Nature’s volume:
—Il. Rocks. 2. Seas. 3. Gardens. With a poem of
the Soul’s Complaint against the Body, and comfort-
able Cordials against the discomforts of i imprisonment.”
In the preface to the catalogue of his works from whence
this title is copied, it is said “If thou reap any infor-
mation, consolation, reformation, or edification by any
of these publications, let the author enjoy thy prayers
and just respects, and his stationer thy custom.”
Mount Orgueil Castle is the most ancient of the fortis
fications of Jersey; it has ‘ seen service” in its day.
How long it existed previous to the reign of King John
is not known—at that time it was enlarged and. strength-
ened. The rocky headland on which it stands, whose
lofty appearance has given origin to the name, juts out
1837.]
into the sea, separating Grouville Bay and St. Cathe-
rine’s Bay, which occupy the greater part of the eastern
side of Jersey. ‘* Whether seen from land or from sea,
Mount Orcueil is well entitled to the appellation of an
imposing ruin. In many parts the walls are yet entire;
but in other places, massive as they are, they have
yielded to the pressure of time; and the mantle of ivy,
which in most parts hangs from their very summits, 1s
in fine unison with the grey tint of age that here and
there is seen where the walls are bare, and with the
loop-holes and ‘rents that time has made.’ The
ascent to the summit is somewhat toilsome,—but one
is amply repaid for the labour of it by the magnificence
of the prospect. It embraces several of the bays which
lie on either side,—the richly wooded range of heights,
that girds the central parts of the island,—the village
[of Gorey] far below, with its harbour and shipping,—
the whole expanse of sea,—and the distant coast of
France*.” The cathedral of Coutance in Normandy
can be distinguished on clear days.
As the first day’s excursion was directed towards the |
east side of the island, the second day’s may be towards
the west. Starting from St. Helier’s, we may cross the
bay of St. Aubin’s, either by a boat when the tide is
full, over the fine hard sand when the tide is low, or
walking or driving by the road which’ curves round the
head of the bay, within a short distance of high-water
mark. This road leads to the little decayed town of
St. Aubin’s, which has given name to the bay, and
which lies opposite to St. Helier’s. St. Aubin’s was
once the chief town of Jersey. In Falle’s time the
harbour of St. Aubin’s was reckoned the best in the
island, and the principal shipping trade was carried on
from thence. ‘* Nothing can be sweeter than the situa-
tion of St. Aubin; partly skirting the shore, and partly
lying on the rocky and well-wooded heights, that from
the backs of the houses drop perpendicularly into the
sea, and backed and surrounded on three sides by a
very fertile, and yet a picturesque country. To the
lover of quiet and seclusion, St. Aubin is just such a
place as might be chosen among a thousand.” ‘The
town is composed mainly of a steep straggling street,
which drops down from an eminence towards the sea.
A pier projects from a rock on which there ts a fortress.
At low water the rock and harbour are left dry, but at
hieh water there is a depth of thirty feet within the
pier. Mr. Inglis says he spent two or three days de-
liehtfully in the neighbourhood of “ this secluded vil-
lave,” as he terms St. Aubin’s; the surrounding country
is beautiful and diversified, and the views across the
bay excellent. The high cliffs afford a shelter from
the breeze, for Jersey is seldom without a tolerably stiff
one: ‘“‘a perfectly calm day even in summer is rare,
and, generally speaking, even the finest weather may
be called blowy weather.”
From St. Aubin’s, the road leads across the neck of
land which forms the western side of St. Aubin’s Bay,
and passing the head of St. Brelade’s Bay, and close by
St. Brelade’s Church, terminates at the western side of
the island. Before taking this road, it would be advis-
able to diverge southerly, down the road which leads
to Noirmont Point, the extreme point of St. Aubin's
Bay: the scenery is excellent. Returning to St. Aubin's,
the road to St. Brelade’s will also be found to present
many interesting points of view—the bay inclosed by
rock and wood, and the old church on the verge of the
sea. St. Brelade’s Bay is one of the many bays, creeks,
and coves, of various dimensions, which indent the cir-
cumference of Jersey; and though not the most remark-
able, is a singular and interesting spot. The church
stands on the western side of the bay, the churchyard
being washed by the sea at high water. ‘The whole
building,” says Mr. Plees, “is small, very plain, both
; * Inglis’s Channel Islands, vol. 1. p. 59.
THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 529
internally and externally; it has neither spire nor tower:
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[St. Brelade’s Church. ]
indeed a round turret, that rises from the eround, but
which is built in a nook, and ascends only to a small
belfry*.” One of the old chapels of the island, which
are stated to be anterior in the date of their erection to
the churches, is in St. Brelade’s churchyard. It is the
only one in tolerable preservation. It was called, says
Plees, La Chapelle és péecheurs. “St. Brelade’s Bay,”
he adds, “‘is a semicircular basin, the reeular contour
of which is broken on its eastern side by a projecting
mass of rocks, by which a second curve is made, form-
ing asmaller bay. ‘The valley is a steril spot, scantily
strewed over with meagre blades of grass, yet a species
of ground-rose creeps over the sandy surface. The
flower resembles the common dog-rose, and is delight-
fully fragrant.’ ‘‘The shores of this bay,” says Mr.
Inelis, “are sloping, as are all the southern shores of
the island, and are everywhere covered with a small
ground-rose, of the finest colour, and emitting all the
fragrance of the ‘rose d’amour.’ Excepting in the
southern parts of Bavaria, I have never observed this
rose elsewhere than in Jersey.
St. Ouen’s Bay occupies nearly the whole of the
western side of Jersey, forming a curve between four
and five miles in length. There is nothing, however,
reinarkable on this side of the island. If the day is not
too far spent, the excursion may be extended to the
north-western extremity of the island, to visit Cape
Grosnez and Plemont Point. But the northern coast
of Jersey is worthy of having one or two days exclu-
sively devoted to it. The bay of St. Ouen presents a
large, flat, sandy tract, which is exposed to all the fury
of the western gales. Part of the bay is said by Falle
to have been a fertile valley, in which erew an actual
forest of oaks, but was submerged about the end of the
15th or beginning of the 16th century. He also men-
tions that the inhabitants had a traditional belief that
the irruption of the sea was a judgment from heaven,
* Plees’s account of Jersey (Southampton, 4to., 1817) is a very
good and painstaking description of the island, though it is inter-
larded with trite, puerile, or inappropriate remarks, after the fashion
80 oe ridiculed in Washington Irving’s ‘ History of New
York,’
334
on account of the plundering of some Spanish vessel or
vessels wrecked on the coast. Abont the centre of the
bay, not far from St. Ouen’s church, is a sheet of fresh
water, being a portion of some open meadows over-
flowed by the junction of several rivulets, and forming
a shallow lake.
There are the scanty remains of an old castle or fort
at Cape Grosnez, which was one of the ancient defences
of the island.
Dr. M‘Culloch says (first volume of the Geolocical
Society’s Transactions) that the cliffs of the northern
shore of Jersey are in general about an hundred feet
in height, thongh some cliffs are more than double that
height. Plemont Point, not far from Grosnez, affords
an iustance of the latter. The promontory of Plemont
is so deeply intersected on each side as to be joined to
the main land by a very narrow isthmus; a bridge is
thrown across the ravine. ‘* Plemont has long been
celebrated for its caves, which are marine excavations
in the lower part of a rocky hill; they are chiefly on
the western side of a small inlet, of which the eastern
point is formed by the promontory of Plemont. The
usual descent to those caverns is on this side; the de-
clivity is safe, thongh steep.”
There are other caves in the singular and interesting
cove or inlet of Gréve de Lecq, eastward a short distance
from Plemont. Mr. Plees advises that ‘* All the caves
should be reconnoitred by water, and not by land.
With a boat from Gréve de Lecq, it would be easy to
land close to every opening in the eliffs ; 1t would avoid
the scrambling over masses of rock, or winding along
narrow paths that skirt the edges of precipices; and
thus the caves might be viewed before the receding tide
would admit of proceeding to them by land. Great
caution would, however, be necessary: a good offing
must be preserved in doubling any of the sharp ledges ;
as In weneral strong currents and broken water are pre-
valent near those angles, especially towards low ebb,
when many sunken rocks become dangerous that are
well covered when the tide rises.”
“Greve de Lecq,” says Mr. Inglis, ** is not a bay
but a cove; and to my mind realizes the precise mean-
ing of the word,—such as I have been used to affix to
it, when in perusing the voyages of old navigators I
have read that the vessel put into a deep and sheltered
cove, in some uninhabited island, in search of wood
and water. Such is Gréve de Lecq: approached
through a narrow and deep valley of a wild but beau-
tiful aspect, bounded by nearly perpendicular cliffs, and
offering, alike in its form, and situation, and general
features, a perfect picture of a solitary island cove:
here, too, the sea has worn caves among the rocks; and
here, on a fine summer evening, when the sun flames
up the narrow valiey, gilding the broad-leaved fern,
and the clumps of oak that checker the slopes; and
when all is still, but the low plash of the little waves,
one may linger in the conviction that no island of more
distant seas offers a sweeter scene.”
From Greve de Lecq to Boulay Bay is a distance of
between six and seven miles. In this distance ‘‘ many
interesting spots will be found by the traveller who
makes a circuit of the whole coast; and the lover of
caverns will find abundant room for the indulgence of
his curiosity.” The sea rises to a great height on the
northern coast, and dashing with violence on the cliffs,
works out those excavations. Boulay Bay is capacious,
and there is a considerable depth of water in it when
the other bays of the island are dry. The idea of con-
structing a naval station here has been repeatedly agi-
tated ; and Plees says that if St. Helier’s had not been
so flourishing a town, the chief town of Jersey es
have been placed on Boulay Bay. The bay is re
markable for the bold character of the scenery by aria,
it is surrounded.”
MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF
[Aucusr 31,
We may now close the description of the coasts of
Jersey by mentioning Rozel, one of the sweetest of the
island bays, and a favourite resort of picnic parties.
Rozel Harbour is a short distance from Boulay Bay,
at the north-east corner of the island; a few fishermen’s
houses are scattered on the beach. St. Catherine’s
Bay and Grouville Bay have been already mentioned.
The oyster beds, the resort of the fishermen of Gorey,
lie off the eastern side of the island; one bed is about
two miles off the land, nearly opposite Mount Oregueil
Castle, but the erand depét i is nearer the French coast.
It is from the Gorey fishery that the Colchester oyster-
market is chiefly supplied.
The manners and customs of the people of Jersey
have been undergoing great changes during the pre-
sent century, and especially of late years. Plees,
writing twenty years ago, says, “ In the country, not-
withstanding late innovations, we not unfrequently
meet the old farmer, with his large cocked hat, and thin
queue & la Frangais; and amone females the short
jacket or bed-gown, and coarse red petticoat, still form
a prevalent though declining costume.” Sixteen years
later, Mr. Inglis, in speaking of the careful and pe-
nurious spirit of the Jersey people, says, ‘* Neither is
there much outlay in the articles of dress. Many of the
habiliments both of the men and women are of worsted,
which has been subjected to the knitting needle; and
not only stockings and shawls, but petticoats, and even
small clothes, are of this material,—the produce of
domestic industry. Men’s clothes, too, are frequently
fashioned at home, though not universally; and it is a
curious fact I have to mention, that the country tailors
are all women. A Jerseyman would consider the occu-
pation of a tailor beneath him ; and this trade is there-
fore, in the country, in the hands of the females. A
female tailor receives 5d. per day.” But fashion, and
a love of display, have been stealing over the country-
people ; and both male and female are to be found
dropping into St. Helier’s, to have at least their clothes
for Sunday made in the neatest and the newest style.
Again, Mr. Plees mentions the disinclination of the
Jersey people to “turn out for a walk,” or a short ex-
cursion, and thus assigns a reason for it :—‘** The beau-
tiful bay of St. Aubin’s is well adapted for excursions
on the water, but those do not seem to attract the town
inhabitants; nor are they more inclined to frequent the
walks that the vicinity presents. It will not, perhaps,
be difficult to account for this inattention to amuse-
ments that give @ereat interest to a country town in
Eingland. Hardly any of the Jersey natives are with-
out country relatives: mon cousin and ma cousine con-
nect half the families of the island: visits of a few days
or weeks to friends at a distance are therefore preferred
to the pleasure of diurnal perambulations.”
This is confirmed by Mr. Inglis, who says, how-
ever,—‘** they talk of constructing a promenade, but
I really do not think the inhabitants deserve it. Both
to the west and to the east of the town there is a !ong
stretch of fine hard sand, at all times fit for a pro-
menade, unless at full spring tides; and yet one may
oo there, at any hour of the day, without seeing a
single individual profiting by the advantages offered by
nature. Why, then, put art in requisition to create a
luxury which will certainly be unappreciated by the in-
habitants? Jersey is not sufficiently continental in its
tastes to relish a public promenade; and yet one would
think this is a taste which it would not be difficult to
acquire, for #t includes in it the desire of seeing and of
being seen: and certainly it is felt to be a great conve-
nience to the traveller, on almost every part of the conti-
nent, who desires to learn something of the general aspect
of the population of a town, to have only to ask the road
to the public walk, be it boulevard, prater,.or prado,”
1837.]. —
But since this was written, art has been put into
requisition to create the luxury of a promenade; it re-
mains to be seen how far the inhabitants will appre-
ciate the luxury. No less than two subscription pro-
menades are at present contending for patronage. To
be sure, a subscription promenade is not precisely the
kind of promenade of which Mr. Inglis speaks; and
the manner in which the proprietors of these:prome-
nades appeal to the public shows the class to whom
they look for support. One is a ‘* marine promenade,”
temptingly described as “ recherche grounds, where the
distingués of the island meet to enjoy the healthful and
luxurious breezes of the sea;” the other is a ‘‘ musical
promenade, now open under the most distinguished
patronage, forming a centre of re-union where the
fashionable world of Jersey may meet to enjoy the
advantages of social intercourse.” In connexion with
the Marine Promenade, bathing-machines have been
established ; and an omnibus, for a trifling additional
sum, conveys the bathers to and from their residences.
The majority of visiters to both, however, are straugers.
On Sunday, almost all the real Jersey people are to
be seen walking on the Pier, or on the road to Fort
Regent. ‘wi
~ One remarkable custom still exists mm nearly all its
pristine vigour, for the wants of the inhabitants uphold
it. This is the collection of the sea-weed, which serves
both as manure and fuel. Dr. M‘Culloch, in his geo-
logical tour over Jersey, found no trace of lime. alle
mentions the want, and describes the substitution of
sea-weed. Plees thus amplifies the account of Falle:—
"Though neither chalk, limestone, nor marl has been
hitherto discovered in the island, yet the divine Goodness
has not left Jersey without a substitute for manure: this
is sea-weed, of different species of alge, all called in
the island by the general name of ‘vraic.’ This marine
vegetable erows luxuriantly on the rocks round the
coast. It is gathered only at certain times, appointed
by public authority. There are two seasons for cutting
it—part is dried, and serves for fuel; after which the
ashes are used for manure—part is spread, as fresh
gathered, on the ground, and ploughed in; it is like-
wise scattered, in the same state, over meadow land,
aud is said to promote the growth of grass. It may,
perhaps, have this effect; but as the solar heat in sum-
mer time, and the frequent stormy winds, soon parch
it, some of its salutary influence seems likely to be lost ;
THE PENNY MAGAZINE,
Oa
o
33
containing four or six persons, carry the vraickers to
and it appears probable that a slight sprinkling of sea-
water would, though perhaps in a less degree, have a
similar effect. Vraicking is a dangerous employment.
Fatal accidents happen almost every season. The boats
oo to a considerable distance from the shore, and return
deeply laden. A sudden squall rises, the currents are
rapid, and the unwieldy’ bark is either overset, or
whelined beneath the surge.” —_
Inglis gives a more cheerful description of vraicking.
The French word varech, equivalent to our general ex-
pression, sea-weed, is in the Jersey dialect “vraic ;” there
are two seasons for gathering it, summer and winter,
the days of commencement being appointed by the court,
each time about ten days. ‘* When the vraicking season
begins, those whose families are not numerous enough
to collect the needful supply, assist each other; and the
vraicking parties, consisting of eight, ten, or twelve
persous, sally forth betimes, from all parts of the island
to their necessary, laborious, but apparently cheerful
work. Although a time of labour, it is also a season of
merriment: ‘vraicking cakes,’ made of flour, milk,
and sugar, are plentifully partaken of,—and on the
car. which accompanies the party to the sea-beach is
generally slung a little cask of something to drink, and
a suitable supply cf eatables. Every individual is pro-
vided with a small scythe, to cut the weed from thie
rocks, and with strong leg and foot gear. The carts
proceed as far as the tide will allow them; and boats,
——E——————E
as llncomanee eereeeeeneeiemeeeretn ememeeeetnenenenaEERinneneeeneneneemenineenattteeelne
the more distant rocks, which are unapproachable in
any other way.
‘It is truly a busy and a curious scene: at this sea-
son, at half-tide, or low water, multitudes of carts and
horses, boats, and vraickers, cover the beach, the rocks,
and the water; and so anxious are the people to make
the most of their limited time, that I have often seen
horses swimming, and carts floating—so unwilling are
the vraickers to be driven from their spoil by the inex-
orable tide.
‘* But this sea-weed is not, as I have said, employed
solely as manure, but is also used as fuel; and for
this purpose it is collected at other times than at the
regular vraicking seasons, not from the rocks indeed,
but from the sea beach; for of course some of the weed
is constantly detaching itself from the rocks, and is
borne to the shore by the tide. The collection of this
sea-weed is a constant employment with those who live
near the sea-shore ; and the produce of their labour is
either used for fuel, or is sold to those who want it.
At almost all times men, women, and children—but
chiefly the two latter—are to be seen at this employ-
ment, gathering, or spreading the weed out to dry:
they use a rake, or three-pronged pitch-fork, and a
wheelbarrow, in which it is carried above high-water
mark to be dried*. ‘This is the universal fuel of the
country, and it makes a hot, if not a cheerful fire.
Coal is scarcely at all used; and only a very small
quantity of wood along with the vraic; and this event,
not universally. On feast days only, and family eather-
ings, a coal fire is lighted-in the best parlour.”
Our space precludes us from entering more minutely
into the customs, characteristics, and general habits of
the people of Jersey. We will therefore close the present
Supplement with a few particulars respecting the con-
stitution, laws, and commerce of Jersey.
Law and justice are made and adininistered in Jersey
by two bodies—one, the legislative body, called the
States; the other, the judicial body, called the Royal
Court. The Royal Court is composed of a president,
who is the bailiff (or as he is popularly called, the bailly)
of Jersey, appointed by the king, and twelve judges,
ected for life by the people. All heads of families
paying parochial rates are entitled to vote in the election
of a judge; and any body may be made a judge who
can @ain as many votes as will ensure his election. The
legislative body is composed of thirty-six members,
besides the governor and the bailly, consisting of 1.
The twelve judges, who being judges for life, are legis-
lators for life. 2. The rectors of the twelve parishes,
nominated (with the exception of the Dean) by the
governor, also legislators for life. 3. The twelve con-
stables of the twelve parishes, elected by the people tri-
ennially. The king’s officers and the viscomte have
also seats in the States, and may speak, but cannot vote.
The States cannot be convened withont the assent of
the governor, who has also a veto on its deliberations.
It originates and passes laws; raises funds for the pub-
lic service; appropriates the revenue; and presides
generally over the well-being of the island. All acts
passed by the States, if meant to continue in force more
than three years, must receive the king’s assent.
The Royal Court takes cognizance of all crimes
committed in the island. Almost all the laws and cus-
toms, both in criminal and civil cases, owe their origin
to the Norman feudal system, There is an appeal from
the Royal Court to the King in Council.
The revenue of Jersey arises from the duty on the
importation of wines and spirits, from harbour dues,
and from licenses granted to publicans. ‘The salaries of
the public officers, the expenses of maintaining’ and
clothing the island militia, and keeping up the island
* See the cut at p. 332, -
336
fortifications, are defrayed by England. These latter
cost a large sum during the last war. The inhabitants
of Jersey, from the ages of 17 to 65, are liable to serve
in the militia.
The natives of Jersey attach the ereatest value to
their privileges, political and commercial—any attempt
to interfere with them producing a ferment in the
island. About the end of 1834, and in the beginning
of 1835, an erroneous Impression was current in Britain
(arising from an official statement which was afterwards
discovered to be founded on incorrect data), that a
large quantity of foreign grain was annually introduced
into this country, duty free, under the pretence of its
being the growth of the Channel Islands. Accord-
ingly notice was given, in the House of Commons, of
the intention of government to introduce a bill ‘ to
prevent the exportation of wheat, the growth of the
Channel Islands, into England, duty free.” This
created great alarm in Jersey and Guernsey. Deputies
were sent over from the islands to London, for the
purpose of expostulating with the government, and of
defending the island charters. ‘The great argument on
which the deputies rested their cause (which they
pleaded with zeal and earnestness) was, that the privi-
leves of the Channel Islands were bestowed on the
inhabitants as a reward of their lone-tried devotion to
England, and their successful resistance—* single-
handed”—of foreign aggression. This argument was
adopted by a Committee of the House of Commons,
which, in 1835, reported on the subject. The Com-
mittee say, ‘* Upon a careful consideration of the whole
subject, your Committee see no reason to believe that
the privilege possessed by the Channel Islands, of freely
importing their produce into this country, has been
made use of to any material extent, as a means of intro-
ducing foreign corn; and they feel bound to add, that
it is strenuously. denied by the deputies from the islands
that it has been thus abused even in the smallest de-
gree, and that their assertion has not been opposed by
any direct proofs; and your Committee are therefore:
of opinion that it would not be expedient to abrogate
or infringe those privileges which are now ‘enjoyed by
the inhabitants of these islands, and which were con-
ferred upon them in consideration of the signal service
which, at various periods of our history, they have ren-
dered to the crown and people of this country.”
Whatever may have been the value of these services
thus rendered by the inhabitants of the Channel Islands
to “the crown and people of this country,” there can
be no doubt that the Channel Island people themselves
are reaping the full benefit of their labours. The com-
inercial privileges of Jersey have made Jersey what it
iss Mr. Stephen, in an official report to government
on the Channel Island privileses (May, 1835) says,
‘“‘ The charters of Richard II. and of Elizabeth do not
appear to me to have much, if any, bearing upon the
present question [of the importation of corn]. * * *
The words of Elizabeth’s charter are indeed so com-
prehensive, that if fulfilled according to the letter, they
would exempt the people of Guernsey and Jersey from
every species of custom, toll, and tribute within this,
realm. * * * * But the charter of Charles I. is
more specific and intelligible. I quote from the ab-
stract prepared for the Privy Council by the Attorney-
General in the year 1667, the following passage, amidst
the enumeration of the privileges which Charles I. had
oranted, © Not to pay customs of or for wares or mer-
chandises, arising or made within the islands, which
shall be transported into England, for and in respect of
the transportation.’ I know not how to assign to this
language a lower sense than that the intercourse be-
tween the Channel Islands and this kingdom, in the
goods, produce, and mannfactures of the former, should
be placed on the footing of the coasting trade.”
The advantage of being ““ placed on tne footing of
MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT.
fAucustT 3], 1837,
the coasting trade” will appear, when we recollect (in
the words of Mr. Inglis) that ‘‘ Jersey is a free port,
all articles of foreign produce, not contraband, being
imported free of duty ; a privilege which not only
lessens the price of provisions to the inhabitants, but
diminishes in an important degree the cost of ship-
building and outfit, and consequently acts asa stimulus
to trade, and is a source of direct profit to the mer-
chant.” Mr. Inglis further affirms, that ‘‘ the con-
sumption of the island [Jersey] is supplied from foreign
countries, while the produce of the island, raised upon
untaxed land, and with cheap labour, is sent to the
British ports, with the same advantages as if the vessels
and cargoes were British.” Mr. Frean, a corn-factor
‘of Plymouth, said the same thing to the Committee of
the House of Commons inquiring into the corn trade
of the Channel Islands. He was asked, ‘‘ Have you
the means of knowing of what kind of corn the bread
usually consumed in Jersey is made from ?’—*‘ J be-
lieve,” he replies, ‘it is made principally from foreign
corn.” ‘The consumption of the island—the cousump-
tion of bread in the island is chiefly that made from
foreign corn ?”—** Yes, they can sell their own produce
at so much greater profit.”
Although it is clear enough that the people of the
Channel Islands ‘are very considerably the better for
their privileges, it is but fair to give what may be con-
sidered as their own view of the matter. The bailiff of
Guernsey, Daniel de Lisle Brock, Esq., in a letter
written in April, 1835, says, ‘“ The four islands do not
contain 25,000 acres fit for cultivation, meadows, or-
chards, and gardens, included. How can this, with
any man of reflection, be held up as an object of jea-
lousy to the landholders, many of whom are owners of
estates to a larger extent? Onr connexion with Eng-
land can, indeed, in no way be injurious to her; her
commodities, produce, and manufactures are freely ad-
mitted, to an extent exceeding tenfold the value of our
produce, which she so reluctantly takes in return. Eng-
land trades with no part of the world so advantageously
as with the islands, in proportion to their extent. ‘The
woods exported by her to the islands amount to at least
500,0002., while the produce she takes back does not
amount to 120,000/.; must we receive all, and send
nothing back ?”’
We may conclude in the words of Mr. Inglis :—‘“* The
privileges of Jersey are great and invaluable, impossible
to be enjoyed without producing important benefits
upon the people who enjoy them. Here, the tax-
eatherer’s knock is unknown; here, a year’s poor rates
are paid by a wealthy man, with a sum that would not
furnish him with a dinner in England: here, if we say
to a shopkeeper, ‘the article is dear, we are not
answered, ‘It is owing to the high duty, Sir; I get
nothing by it:’ here a man may sit down to a well-
spread table covered with foreign, colonial, and British
produce and manufacture, and see not one article for
which he has paid anything beyond the price of produce
and labour, and the trader's profit. But these privileges
are necessary to the prosperity of the Channel Islands.
Without them their population would dwindle away,
and trade would languish ; property fall in value; and
thus depopniated, moneyless, and nerveless, they would
fall a prey to France on the outbreaking of a war, an
event which, if it be the policy of England to avert, can
be averted only by protecting the privileses—guarding
against the abuse of them, and thus encouraging the
prosperity, and consequently the patriotism and loyalty,
of those who enjoy them.”
#,° The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at
59, Lincoln’s Inn Fields.
LONDON: CHARLES KNIGHT & CO., 22, LUDGATE STREET)
Printed by Wititam Crowes and Sons, Stamford Street,”
THE PENNY !
AGAZINE
OF THE
Society for the Diffusion of Useful-Knowledgze.
348, ]
PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY.
[SEPTEMBER 2, 1837
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[Gleaners of the Pontine Marshes. ]
Tue whole of the Campagna, or Plain of Rome, from
the Tiber to the mountains on the frontier of the
Neapolitan kingdom, is marshy, and during the suin-
mer months most unhealthy; but the southern part of
this tract, called, par ercellence, the *‘ Paludi” (or the
marshes) is more particularly distinguished for its in-
salubrity. From Torre Tré Ponti to Tersaxina, a dis-
tance of twenty-five miles, the land is low and flat, and
in some parts, both inland at the foot of the mountains
and near the sea-shore, covered with water. In breadth
from the sea-line to the Apennines, the district varies
from ten to twelve miles, and on this wide expanse there
is scarcely a hillock, scarcely a tree. It is traversed by
a noble road, as straight as an arrow; the high-road
from Rome to Naples, running in part over the cele-
brated Via Appia, which was laid down in the time of.
the Roman republic, about three centuries before the
Christian era. In travelling along this road, the eye
ranges over a rich expanse of pasture and corn lands,
the cultivated part, however, bearing but a small pro-
portion to the pasturage. Not a hedge, not a fence of
any kind, occurs for many miles, the limits of the vast
farms being merely marked by termini, or stones sunk
in the ground. Scarcely a human habitation is to be
seen, except at very wide intervals a large gloomy | general they return as soon as
VoL Vi.
casale, looking more like a fortress than a peaceful
farm-house.
Smiling under a clear blue sky, and lit up by a glo-
rious summer sun, this great flat, though monotonous,
is for a while pleasant to look upou. Green and smooth,
it is not unlike many parts of Cambridgeshire, or the
more open parts of the fens of Lincolnshire; but the
saine causes—an insufficient drainage, and the vicinity
of stagnant waters, which in England produce ague,
here, in a hotter climate, generate malaria fevers of the
worst description. Hence, beyond a few families whose
chief occupation is taking care of herds of buffaloes
and wild cattle that range the waste, there 1s no fixed
population in the Pontine marshes. In an early num-
ber of our Magazine (Vol. I., p. 1965) we have given
an account of the management of the great farms of
the Maremma, and the same description holds good for
these Paludi, which are but a part of the Marer.ma,
and are submitted to the same system of agriculture.
About the end of October, when the great heats of
summer, which render the plain unhealthy, have ceased,
the poor and laborious peasants of the Apennines come
down from their mountains in bands and perform the
necessary labours. Some few stay till May, but in
they have finished their
2%
338
ploughing and sowing. At harvest-time, which occurs
about the middle of June, they descend again to the
low country, and our engraving represents the arrival of
a family party with all its baggave and appurtenances.
The engraving is copied from the design of a German
artist, Robert, in a collection recently published at Berlin,
and who has given the scene with admirable truth and
nature. We have often seen its very counterpart in
crossing the Pontine Marshes; the same cumbrous cart,
with its yoke of fierce-looking buffaloes, and its motley
load; the same picturesque costumes, that make the
women look as if they had walked out of a picture by
some old Italian master; the same gambols, the same
zampogna, or bagpipe, an instrument, by the way, quite
as common in all the mountainous districts of southern
Italy as ever it could have been in the Highlands of Scot-
land. Itiscommon for a fainily to move with all its mem-
bers, from the hoary grandfather to the infant in arms,
and to carry all their simple houseliold goods and move-
able property with them. The senior of the part acts as
‘* caporale,” or head man, arranges the job with the factor
or farmer, and receives the wages of his children and
grandchildren.
operations they unload their car, and sometimes set up
a rude sort of tent to shade them at their meals, and
protect them from the dews at night. This care, how-
ever, is not always taken, and many of them eat and
sleep without any shelter, spreading their blankets on
the bare ground. They sometimes make temporary
huts of bulrushes and canes, which grow to a pro-
digious height in the more marshy parts of the plain.
Where the soil is very damp, we have sometimes seen
these huts set upon poles at the height of six or eight
feet from the ground. ‘The occupants, who only use
them for sleeping, climb up and enter by an aperture,
which is rather a hole than a door-way: a structure of
this kind looks like a gigantic bee-hive, or an Indian
wigwam set upon stilts. )
In the day-time, while the men and women are all at
work, the children, where there are any; are carried
a-field, and set down on the ground near the reapers,
for wolves are not unfrequent visiters in these marshes,
The peculiar way of swaddling infants, which is com-
mon in all the south of the Peninsula, has not escaped
our artist’s attention. The little creatures are bound
and wrapped round and round, until, in their lower
extremities, they look like Exvyptian mummies, Though
this practice, by which the lees are confined and allowed
no play, should not seem a very judicious one, the
peasants, and the lazzaroni of Naples, among whom it is
equally prevalent, are, generally speaking, a remarkably
fine-legged generation. The spare food and the hard
life led by these poor mountaineers, have been accurately
described in the article to which we have before referred. |
Although, putting the best face on a bad business, they
arrive piping and dancing, it is seldom that they can |
return in the same merry mood, the malaria fever being
pretty sure to seize one-half of them more or less vio-
lently. As soon as the corn is cut, the reapers make
all the haste they can from the pestilential flat, which,
by the month of July, becomes so dangerous that few
or none will venture to remain in the fields by night.
The livid aspect of those few families that are bound to
the spot is indeed a shocking proof of its unwholesome-
ness. We remember few things more pathetic than
the reply that one of these walking spectres made to a
traveller who-was struck with the abundant sources of
disease, and the sickly appearance of the people.
‘* How do you manage to live here?” (Come si vive quz),
said the stranger, (Signor, si muore), ‘‘ Sir, we die.”
Some of these parties of reapers have many miles to
travel before they reach their homes on the heaithy
mountains. ‘They walk along in troops, the healthy
supporting the sickly ; for it is only a few of the better
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
When they reach the scene of their
[SEPTEMBER 2,
sort that can command the luxury of riding in a buffalo-
car. ‘These vehicles are of the most primitive or rudest
description: one solid piece of wood, roughly hewed,
forms axle-tree and axles, and upon this the wheels
revolve with a fearful noise of which our word ‘“ creak-
Ing’ conveys no idea: they scream, shriek, and groan.
We have often heard them at more than a mile’s dis-
tance. ‘The beasts that draw them are the most sulky
and savage of all domesticated quadrupeds, and are
sometimes known to throw down their driver and press
him to death. The strength of this species of buffalo,
which attains its highest perfection in the low marshy
lands of the Roman and Neapolitan states, is, however,
prodigious. A pair of them will draw an immense car
heavily laden over the roughest roads, and across the
bed of a river, if necessary, with the water over their
shoulders On such occasions they keep their snouts
erect, and above the water, blowing like hippopotami.
In many parts of the country, where there are no
bridges to cross the numerous mountain streams, all
communication would be interrupted at certain seasons
of the year, if it were not for the strength and aquatic
habits of these animals,
OBSOLETE PUNISHMENTS.
Amona the remarkable changes which have taken place
of late years, may be mentioned the entire extinction of
those punishments, which, about the middle of the last
century, were inflicted on minor offenders, many petty
offences being then visited by distinct species of punish-
ment, now obsolete. In this age of civilization and
refinement, a female is not sentenced to the ducking-
stool, the brank, or the whirligig, so common in ancient
times—and we do not now hear in our courts of justice
of a culprit being subjected to the peine fort et dure, or
tying the thumbs as means of making him plead. The
following may be considered asa few of the most curious
obsolete punishments to which we find allusions in some
of our ancient writers, and also in the Works of Sir
Walter Scott. Ina few years they may be perhaps so
entirely forgotten, that the allusions to them will not be
comprehended.
The wooden Horse.—Riding the wooden horse was
a military punishment formerly much used in different
services. The wooden horse, according to Captain
Grose (Military Antiquities, 106), was made of planks
nailed together, so as to form a sharp ridge or angle
“lor
[The wooden Horse. ]
about eight or nine feet long; this ride@e represented the
back of the horse, which was supported by four posts or
legs about six or seven feet high, placed on a stand
made moyeable by truckles; to complete the resem-
1837.]
blance, a head and tail were added. When a soldier was
sentenced either by a court-martial or by a command-
ing officer to ride this horse, he was placed on the back
with his hands tied behind him; and frequently to
increase the punishment, had muskets tied to his legs,
to prevent, as was jocularly said, the horse from kicking:
him off. This punishment was chiefly inflicted on the
infantry, who were supposed unused to ride. The remains
of a wooden horse were standing on the parade at Ports-
mouth in 1760, but its use has been long discontinued
being considered a punishment very injurious to the
men. This punishment is alluded to by Sir Walter
Scott in the 4th chapter of ‘Old Mortality,’ where
Halliday says, *‘ We'll have him to the guard-house, and
teach him to ride the colt foaled of an acorn, with a
brace of carabines at each foot to keep him steady.”
The Gantelope.—This was 2 common military punish-
ment for theft, and was practised in two ways, one of
which was called running the Gantelope or Gantlet; for
the latter, the regiment was formed six deep, the ranks
opened and faced inwards. Hach man being provided
with a switch, the offender, naked to the waist, passed
through the ranks, preceded by a serjeant, the point of
whose reversed halbert was pointed to his breast, to
prevent his running too fast, and as he thus passed,
every soldier gave him a stripe. This being found
inconvenient, the other mode was used, which was to
tie the offender to four halberts, three in a triangle and
a fourth across, to keep the offender outside; the regi-
ment then filed off, and a cat-o’-nine-tails was placed
in the hands of the first man, who, after giving the
culprit a lash, put down the cat and passed on, which
was repeated by every man till all had passed, but this
being considered as degrading soldiers to executioners,
the practice was discontinued.
Of this punishment in the navy, Mr. Ingram (one of
the survivors in the wreck of the Royal George) gave
the writer a similar account, except that the master-at
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
arms with a drawn cutlass was substituted for the |
serjeant with a reversed halbert. This punishment was
generally ordered in the navy for thieving.
The Picket.—This was a punishment usually inflicted
on cavalry and artillery. A long post being driven
into the ground, the delinquent was ordered to mount
a stool near it, when his right hand was fastened toa
hook in the post by a noose round his wrist drawn up
as hieh as it could he stretched; a stump, the height
of the stool, with its end cut to a round and blunt point,
was driven into the ground near the post, and the stool
being taken away, the bare heel of the sufferer was
made to rest on the stump, which, though it did not
break the skin, put him to great torture, the only means
of relief being by resting his weight on his wrist, the
pain of which soon became intolerable. ‘The usual
time of so standing, was a quarter of an hour, but fre-
quently the culprit was sentenced to a longer period ;
however, from the serious consequences which often
resulted from this mode of punishment, it was disused.
In Spain, it was practised as one of the tortures of the
Inquisition.
Boring the Tongue.—Captain Grose says that only
one corporal punishment could be inflicted on an officer.
This was boring the tongue with a hot iron for blas-
phemy; a punishment that remained in force till the
time of Queen Anne.
The Drunkard’s Cloak.—In the time of the Com-
monwealth, the magistrates of Newcastle-upon-Tyne
punished drunkards by making them carry a tub, called
the drunkard’s cloak. This tub was worn bottom
upwards, there being a hole at the bottom for the head,
and two smaller holes in the sides for the hands to pass
through; and thus ridiculously attired, the delinquent
was made to walk through the streets of the town, for
339
as long atime as the magistrates thought proper to order,
according to the grossness of the offence.
[The Drunkard’s Cloak. ]
The Cucking Stool, or Tumbrel.—Of this, Lord Chief
Baron Comyns says in his * Digest of the Law’—“ The
tumbrel, or trebuchet, is an instrument for the punish-
ment of women that scold or are unquiet, now called a
cucking-stool.” It was decided in the Court of King’s
Bench in the time of Elizabeth that the pillory and
tumbrel oucht to be provided by the lord of each liberty.
In Manning and Bray’s ‘ Surrey,’ vol. i. p. 343, the
cucking-stool is thus described :—‘* A post was set up
in a pond, across this post was placed a transverse beam,
turning on a swivel with a chair at one end, in which,
when the culprit was properly placed, that end was
turned to the pond and let into the water; and this was
repeated as often as the virulence of the distemper
required.” In the town accounts of Kingeston-on-
Thames in 1672, are charges for making a cucking-
stool :—
‘met eee
Making a cucking-stool . . ‘ 0 8 0
Iron-work for the same r ellen <>
Timber for the same : 0 7 6
Three brasses for the same and ‘Wnte gine s"s we 0 ade lO
Toe 4
And Mr. Lysons observes that it must have been
frequently used, as he finds several entries of money for
its repair. In the third of Gay’s pastorals (‘The Shep-
herd’s Week’) the heroine Sparabilla, who contemplates
suicide, says :—
“T’ll speed me to the pond, where the high stool
On the long plank hangs o’er the muddy pool ;
That stool the dread of every scolding quean.”’
And in West’s Poems, published in 1780, the use of
this stool is thus described :—
“ Down in the deep the stool descends,
But here, at first, we miss our ends,
She mounts again and rages more,
Than ever vixen did before ;
So throwing water on the fire,
Will make it burn up but the higher;
If so, my friends, pray let her take
A second turn into the lake ;
And rather than your patient lose
Thrice and again repeat the dose;
No brawling wives, no furious wenches,
No fire so hot but water quenches.”
The last instance upon record of a person indicted
for a scold was Mrs, Foxby, who was convicted at the
Maidstone sessions in the year 1705. But it appears
by a letter, published in the ‘Gentleman’s Magazine’
in 1803, from Mr. Neeld to Dr. Lettsom, giving an
account of the prisons in Liverpool, that the cucking
or ducking-stool, was not abolished there till after the
year 1776, where it was the custom to use it on a
2X 2
340
woman's first admission to the House’ of Correction.
It was formerly the punishment in almost every country
town in Cheshire and Lancashire for scolds and brawling
women, and called ‘a choakine-stool. In the same letter
we find “‘ that within the memory of persons now living
a cucking-stool was in the ereat reservoir in the Green
Park.” ;
The Brank.—This was a suear-loaf shaped cap, made
of iron hooping, with across at the top, and a flat piece
projecting inwards to lay upon the tongue; it was put
upon the heads of scolds, padlocked behind, and a string
annexed, by which a man led them through the towns.
This punishment appears to be more recent than the
cucking-stool. Brand, in his ‘ History of Newcastle-
upon-Tyne,’ states that in the time of the Common-
wealth, scolds were there punished with the brank; and
that a pair of them are still preserved in the town court
of that place. Plot also, in his ° History of Statford-
shire,’ describes the brank as having’ been used at
Walsall, and Newcastle-under-Lime. In the museum
at Oxford, one of these curious articles is now exhibited
in an excellent state of preservation; and from the
number of instances found of them, they must have
been in common use, although there is very little
mention made of them in any law book. They vary a
little in make in different places, but those commonly
seen are like the annexed cut.
[The Brank. ]
The Whirligig. — Formerly, says Captain Grose,
(Mil. Ant. vol. ii. p. 111) a very common punishment
for trifling offences by sutlers, Jews, brawling women,
and such offenders, was the whirligie—a kind of cir-
cular wooden cage turning on a pivot, and when set
in motion whirled round with such amazine velocity,
that the delinquent soon became extremely sick.
[The Whirligig. ]
Burning in the hand was a punishment inflicted for
theft till the year 1779, and remained a punishment.
for manslaughter till the beginning of the reign of
George IV., when it was entirely abolished. In recent
times the iron was frequently not much heated, except
in bad cases of manslaughter, when, as only one year’s
imprisonment could be added, the instrument was
sometimes effectually heated. This punishment was
always inflicted in open court, in full view of the judge,
immediately after the trial, at the back of the dock.
In many of the old courts may still be seen the iron
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
[SEPTEMBER 2,
staple, large enough for the fingers, and the half hand-
cuff on a hinge to hold down the wrist in which the
culprit’s hand was placed, and burnt with a small
brand iron on the brawn of the left thumb.
Peine fort et dure.—This was ancieutly the jude-
ment against persons who refused to plead. The culprit
was remanded to alow dark room, and laid on his back,
and heavy weights placed on his breast, with no other
sustenance than bread and water; he not being allowed
to eat the day he drank, or to drink the day he ate, and
he was so to continue till he died. This judgment
was virtually repealed in 1772, by an Act of Parliament
which placed persons who refused to plead in the same
situation as if they confessed.
Lying the Thumbs.—The “ peine fort et dure” gave
place to this practice. The thumbs of the prisoner
were tied together with whipcord so tight that the pain
night compel him to plead, and he was sent away so
tied, and remained so until his obstinacy was subdued.
This is mentioned by Lord Chief Justice Kelynge in
the reign of Charles II., and the practice continued in
the reign of Queen Anne. The last instance of tying
the thumbs in London, was at the Old Bailey, in 1734 ;
but we find that it was practised at the Cambridge
Assizes in the year 1742.
SSS EP
TROUT-FISHING IN THE BACKWOODS.
[From a Correspondent. }
Trovut-risHina has ever been one of my favourite
amusements; and in spite of the whining lamentations,
and the risk of incurring the censure, of the too-sensi-
tive and ultra-humane, I must confess that I know
nothing more delightful than a day’s tront-fishing at
that soul-gladdening season of the year when Nature’s
voice, speaking in soft southern breezes, reclothes the
meadows with “robes of velvet green and golden
flowers,” and awakens in the young-leaved woods and
olades “‘sweet sones that speak felicity and love.”
But then 1 must be permitted to choose the stream and
the situation, and take into the account that the fish
are in a neck-or-nothing humour for rising ; for it must
be understood that I refer exclusively to fly-fishing.
To be sure, the minnow is a noble bait,—but then it is
not so purely classical, so ethereal, as the tiny artificial
fly. For this very reason I love not the May-fly
or the gad-fly; but give me the small duns, or the
swallow-tailed willow-fly, or the little black pnat; for
these, in their proper seasons, are among my greatest
favourites. But then it is not with every stream where
trout are found that I could be induced to associate,
nor every spring-day that would call me to this charm-
ing recreation. There are some few rivers, ‘* on both
sides of the 'I'weed,” that are my especial favourites ;
for they possess those peculiar features and charac-
teristics which suit my taste and fancy. Give me the
playful and rippling water, with here and there an
irregular pool, flanked on one side by a hanging grassy
bank, and on the other by a shelving bed of bright
pebbly gravel; but it must be situated far away in some
retired and solitary meadow, sheltered from too much
of the south-western breeze by a wooay eminence, which
is sufficiently distant not to impede the casting of the
longest line. And then, too, I belong to the excln-
sives, and cannot bear to be encroached upon by any
brother of the angle,—however much I may esteem him
as a friend, or respect his abilities as an angler. ‘There
are some few things that we cannot permit even a friend
to share with us, and that of angling on the same
eround is one of them. ‘To enjoy a day’s fishing in
the most approved style, you cannot permit any one, in
any manner, to interfere with your meditative and silent
pursuit: not even your favourite dog can be permitted
1837.)
to accompany you. In short, you must be perfectly
alone, in order that your attention may be free and
undivided. Having said thus much, it might be pre-
sumed that I should point out the state of the water,
and the kind and quality of the apparatus to be used ;
but if an angler is not able to judge for himself in these
matters, any hints of mine would be ‘ pearls thrown to
swine; for your mere bungler is ever the last to
benefit by wood advice.
It might be presumed, from the foregoing remarks,
that I had never condescended to dangle after muddy
brooks and sedey pools; and the fact is I never did,
so long as more regular game was within my reach ; but
the time came that [I changed my country,—when, if I
had not given up angling in despair, I was reduced to
the necessity of taking what the gods provided; and in-
stead of the fine clear purling streams of my native land, I
had to patronize the leafy and wreck-encumbered rivulets
of the dark and almost impervious forests of the Back-
woods of America. Although I must confess that there
all science is reduced to the mere name of angling,
yet when we consider that the trout of those solitary
streams of the wilderness are of the very best quality,
the choicest char not excelling them, there is this
sordid feeling attached to the taking of them, that they
will furnish the table with an excellent dish. Then
comes the levelling consideration that you, with all
your practical science, are barely a match for the most
despicable imp that has got a cent to buy a hempen
string and a hook with, and a knife wherewith to cut a
‘* fishing-pole” from among the young saplings ; for,
while you worry yourself with attempts at pursuing the
diversion secundum artem, the young woodchopper,
being the simple child of nature, gives no portion of
his attention to appearances. ‘Time and circumstances
work wonderful changes, or else I had never been
brought to adopt the mode of angling pursued in the
tributary streams of the vast rivers of North Ame-
rica; but having, after the lapse of a few seasons, be-
come in some measure reconciled to the uncouth modes
and practices necessarily adopted in the woods, I will
relate the plan I used to adopt when I set out ona
fishing excursion, which was undertaken for the two-
fold consideration of profit and amusement.
As I observed before, the trout which are found in
the wildernesses of North America are of an extraor-
dinarily delicious kind; superior, I have no hesitation
in saying, to any that I ever met with in Europe; and
in addition to this commendation, they are exceedingly
abundant. But, when I state this, I beg to observe
that it is only with reference to the hilly or mountainous
parts of the country that I allude; the head-waters of
many a mighty river, where the forest brooks are aug-
mented at every step by some pure and living spring.
As the winters in these regions are long and severe,
the finny inhabitants of the streams during many
months are reduced to a scanty subsistence; for they
are imprisoned, not unfrequently, by barriers of ice for
the space of four or five months in the year, when it
naturally may be imagined that food will become
scarce; and consequently it is late in the season before
they are plump and firm, and in what may be con-
sidered “ prime condition.” Even in these mountain
districts there are some peculiar streams noted for the
superexcellence of their trout, and it was to some one
of these that I commonly resorted for a day’s fishing.
One of these streams intersected an uninhabited valley
at the distance of ten or twelve miles from my resi-
dence, and in company with an intimate friend thither
I used frequently to repair. Although it neither ac-
corded with my original ideas, nor with my general
system of angling, to fish in company, yet amidst the
solitudes and silence of- the wilderness I was willing to
put up with it, particularly on those occasions when we |
THE PENNY MAGAZINE,
341
had to sleep in the woods. We used to set out upon
one of these excursions immediately after an early
dinner, mounted on a couple of horses that understood
threading along in an Indian pathway. I used to take
my boy behind me, while my companion took under his
charge a large sack, one end of which contained our
provisions, and a frying-pan wherein to cook our fish,
and the other a quantity of Indian corn or oats for our
horses. We did not encumber ourselves with fishing-
rods, because long straight saplings, which would
answer our purpose, could easily be procured wherever
we chose to commence angling. And as for the lines
we required, why any sort of coarse materials would
answer as well as the finest hair or gut; for if our
** fishing-poles”’ were ten or eleven feet long, we re-
quired no more line than just sufficient to reach one’s
breast when the “ pole” stood upright, in order to
facilitate the baiting of the hook, and the unhooking
of the fish; and even short lines of this description
were sometimes difficult to manage in the thick covert
of the woods. When the season was sufficiently ad-
vanced, our general bait was a live grasshopper, or,
indeed, a dead one would answer nearly as well. The
quantity we required on an excursion of this soit may
easily be conceived; but by the early part of July they
become so abundant, that my boy could catch enough
of them in an hour or two to supply two days’ fishing.
But we sometimes made these excursions in the latter
part of May, or in the early part of June; and, grass-
hoppers heing at that period too voung for our purpose,
we resorted to that vulgarest of all baits—the worm.
But in angling with the worm we made use of no
‘* sinkers,” but kept the bait in motion on or near the
surface of the water, the same as we would a grass-
hopper. It may be asked why we did not make use
of an artificial fly ? in answer to which I must observe,
that in the almost impassable woods, when your line
is extremely light, you are constantly getting it en-
tanoled amone'st the innumerable branches; and, al-
though you not unfrequently get into the same predica-
ment even when you have a heavier line, yet, your
tackle being stronger and coarser, you can frequently
extricate your hook by main force as it were, and the
injury is soon repaired with a new bait. We used to
endeavour to reach our fishing-ground an hour or two
before sunset; and, having pitched upon some comfort-
able-looking place for our night’s quarters, we then
commenced operations, in order to secure a sufficient
quantity for our supper. By “ comfortable night’s
quarters”? it must be understood that I speak only
comparatively ; for, where there is not even so much as
an Indian wigwam, the prospect cannot be very far
removed from comfortless. But the true sportsman
counts not those exposures hardships which he volun-
tarily brings upon himself; and if he did he would be
likely to meet with but little commiseration. What I
therefore meant by comfort was, that we chose our lair
beneath the thick-spreading branches of a hemlock-tree,
where the ground was dry and somewhat shelving.
Our boy, or * Man Friday,” as we used to call him,
after finding a good and convenient place as a stable
for our horses, ‘which he tied to a couple of stout
saplings, then set about lighting a fire near our pro-
posed sleeping-berths, and afterwards selected a quan-
tity of full-leaved branches for our beds and bedding.
Our saddles were substituted for pillows, and, without
any other covering than the aforesaid brauches, we
would commit ourselves to the arms of the drowsy god.
When ‘“ Friday” had made his sundry preparations,
he would join us, in order to carry our fish; and would
at the same time be preparing them for an immediate
transfer to the frying-pan, on our return to head-quar-
ters. These excursions were not only trout-killing
adventures, but trout-devouring ones as well; for we
342
had a standing rule to bring no kind of provisions with
us, excepting a loaf or two of bread, a little butter where-
with to fry the fish, and a little Alt so that the matter
hinged upon this very plain conclusion, that we must
either fish or starve. But we knew there was no danger of
starving ; and, although we devoured thrice the quan-
tity that we ever did on any other occasion, the supply
was far beyond the demand. One panful after ano-
ther disappeared, until we were at last obliged to yield
to Friday’s industry; and then the hungry cook de-
voured as many as we both had done. By the time
that our repast was over, the shades of night would be
fast closing in, so that nothing remained for us to do,
but to wash down our supper with a draught of whiskey-
and-water, which served as a substitute for a night-cap,
and repair to our lowly couches. Our early excursions
were made before the introduction of temperance so-
cieties into the backwoods; but I remained in that part
of the world until they had made whiskey a “‘ by-word
and a mark of offence,” particularly with the reformed
drunkard and the righteous over much. I shall never
forget the zest with which my friend would formerly
partake of this but rude beverage—indifferent whiskey
distilled from unmalted rye, and water from the adjoin-
ing stream; but the laborious exercise, the hearty meal
of savoury trout, and the wild scene that surrounded
us, all tended to give a relish to our always-moderate
libations. The time came, however, when my friend—
for conscience sake—although still accompanying me
in those romantic excursions, no longer partook of his
wonted beverage; and, although everything continued
to be conducted in precisely the same way, I could not
help fancying that, at the expense of his having signed
the temperance pledge, all his enjoyments had con-
siderably abated. Our man Friday was groom of the
chamber as well as of the horse, besides acting-cook
and butler; and it therefore became his duty to “throw
over us the most approved quantity of leafy branches
as a covering for the night; after which he would
replenish our fire with fuel, and creep into his own lair,
which I used to remark was never very far from ours.
With the first brieht glimpses of returning day-light
we were generally ready to quit our night's accommo-
dations ; for it may seem very interesting and exceed-
ingly romantic to have a parcel of hemlock-branches
for your bed, a saddle for your pillow, a wide-spreading
forest-tree for your canopy, and the barking of the
mountain fox, and the howling of the hungry wolf, for
your lullaby; yet after all give me a quiet room in some
snng cottage, with a bed of the downy feathers of the
simple eoose, and I would willingly resien my hemlock
couch and all its appendages to the lovers of romance,
We slept not in the open air through choice; but ina
forest without any inhabitants it would be in vain to
look for feather-beds and comfortable habitations. As
soon as we arose we repaired to the stream and com-
menced fishing; and by the time that Friday had
looked after the horses, and got his morning fire into
good cooking order, we had caught more fish by double
than we could consume for breakfast. The same sort
of process took place at breakfast as had occurred at
supper; our boy frying one panful after another, which
disappeared in rapid succession, until we were obliged
to own that we were more than satisfied. Then again
commenced our business in the neighbouring stream ;
and now that the whole day was before us, Friday was
ordered to pack up our camp equipage, and remove the
horses two or three miles a-head, to a place we pro-
posed to take a two or three o'clock dinner at; by
which time we expected that we should have sot preity
well tired of our sport. When he had secured the
horses in their new quarters, he then returned to us to
relieve us of our loads; which, after embowelling, he
carried off to the new station, and, having packed them
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
[SepremBEr 2,
carefully away in a sack, with fresh leaves between the
succeeding layers, he would then return and again re-
lieve us of our new stock. In this way we would pro-
ceed until we reached our new camp, or at least until
such time as we had got weary with the constant
repetition of unhooking our victims, and re-baiting our
hooks. Where the streams are small the fish are SO
too, averaging probably eight to the pound; but, as
the brooks approach the size of petty rivers, the trout
also increase in size, averaging two or three to the pound ;
and in some of the larger pools I have caueht them
weighing from one to two pounds; but these are rare
weights. They are not marked exactly like any trout
I ever met with in our island; and the appearance of
the larger ones is nearer to that of our char than our
common trout. The flesh, too, bears a still nearer
resemblance; for, in addition to its delicate, and at the
same time delicious, flavour, the colour is a deep orange.
Unaccustomed to the deceptions of the human race,
they discover scarcely any symptoms of apprehension
when one approaches the small translucent pools in
which they are on the watch for whatever food may
happen to come in their way. One may, therefore,
walk up to the very brink of one of those places, where
a score of fish are all in view within a few feet of you,
without alarming them in any way to prevent them
from taking almost any bait you may offer them; aud,
should it be something they peculiarly admire, the
whole party will rush to it with the greatest impetu-
osity. I have stood by the side of a clear pool on a
bright sunny day, when the meridian rays were pene-
trating the overspreading foliage, and chequering the
unruffled and glassy surface of the water, and have
leisurely counted the number of its finny inhabitants
previous to throwing them my baited hook to scramble
at; and, before I have moved from the place where I
stood, have caught in rapid succession every fish in the
pool, ‘The floundering and splashing of some of the
larger ones would for the moment slightly alarm’ and
disconcert those still remaining behind; but by the
time I had got my bait re-adjusted they were ready to
try their luck in the next scramble. What real sport
can the scientific angler find here, it may be asked?
I would answer none, provided the country afforded
any better: but this it does not. By the time we had
reached our new resting-place we were generally ready
to wind up our lines and our business, eat another meal
of trout, and after a short rest after our dinner, during
which time Friday would pack away the ‘* balance ” of
the fish we had devoured, amounting to a good many
dozens, we prepared for our return through | the forest ;
and in many instances we were solely guided in our
course by our pocket compasses. To be sure we mieht
have traced the stream upwards to its source; but
along the bottoms of the little valleys it venerally
happens that the prostrate trees prevent the possibility
of anything like a practicable and straightforward path.
The quantity of fish caugeht in one of these excursions
amounted, on the average, to somewhere about sixty
dozen, including what we had consumed during our
stay in the woods,—that is, for supper, breakfast, and
dinner; and, although we used to call an excursion a
day’s fishing, it was in fact not quite so much; for we
did not commence before six o'clock in the evening,
and we left off about two in the afternoon of the follow-
ing day, reaching home before sunset with nearly a
sackful of fish and fresh leaves. We had ice-houses in
which we deposited them on our arrival; and our re-
spective friends would be lavish in their praise of the
excellence of the produce of our favourite streams; but,
instead of feeling flattered by their remarks, we could
only pity their ignorance of the true excellence of this
delicate fish ; which we, the best of judges, held as an
incontrovertible opinion, eould be duly appreciated by
1887.]
those only who had ate them within one hour of their
being taken from their own element.
Angling in the Backwoods is considered as amuse-
ment only for boys; so that you find very few who
consider themselves entitled to the more dignified ap-
pellation of man engaging in this unmanly recreation,
except amongst foreigners, and a few of the laziest of
the natives. Indeed, fresh fish are not much esteemed
or relished by the Backwoods people; they do not so
much consult their tastes or appetites as to prefer the
delicate to the substantial. Asa proof of this obser-
vation I have known them willing to barter three
pounds of excellent fresh trout, bass, or pickerel, for
one pound of salt pork ; and also veal and mutton in
the same way. With them it is pork! pork! pork!
and, when their pork becomes scarce, then they _prefer
salt-fish, dried cod, or pickled shad and mackerel.
Once I had a farm-servant that I would sometimes set
down to a dish of as fine trout as ever delighted the
eyes of an epicure; and he would tell the maid-servant
that, if I expected him to perform a day’s work, he must
have neither fish, lamb, nor veal; but plenty of ‘* pork
and beans,” which is the favourite food of the Back-
woodsmen.
DESIRABLE OBJECTS OF ATTAINMENT,
(From an dddress delivered before the Members of Windsor and
Eton Literary Institution, by the Rev. J. Stoughton.)
1. Aim at the attainment of clear and accurate habits of
thought.—Thinking is the exercise that strengthens the
mind, and without which no progress can be made in mental
cultivation. A man may read, and hear, and talk,—he may
devour volumes, and listen to lectures every night,—and
yet, if he does not think, he will make after all but little, if
any, improvement. His head will be full of something, but
it will be a crowd of lumber, like the articles in a broker's
shop. He must think: he must turn over subjects in his
mind: he must look at them on every side: he must trace
the connexion between ideas; and have every thing orderly
arranged. A man may even think a great deal, and not
think clearly: his mind may be at work, and yet always in
confusion: there may be noclear arrangement; and it is
quite possible to mistake muddiness for depth. There are
some men who appear very thoughtful; but from never
aiming at accurate habits of thought, they talk most unin-
telligibly. There seems to be neither beginning, nor middle,
nor end, in what they say ;—all is a confused jumble. Now
writing carefully is a good plan for acquiring habits of clear
and connected thought, since a man is more likely to detect
the disorder of his thoughts in writing than in talking.
2. Aim at independence of mind.—There are some men
who go in leading-strings all their days. They always
follow in the path of others, without being able to give any
reason for their opinions. There is a proper mental in-
dependence which all should maintain ;—self-respect, and
the stability of our cliaracter, require it. The man who
pins his opinions entirely on another’s sleeve, can have no
great respect for his own judgment; and is likely to be a
changeling. When we consider carefully what appeals to
our minds, aud exercise upon it our own reason, taking into
respectful consideration what others say upon it, and then
come to a conclusion of our own, we act as intelligent beings
should act, and only then. This proper independence of
mind is far removed. from presumptuous self-confidence,
than which there is nothing more severely. to be condemned.
Presumption is the associate of ignorance ; and it is hateful
in the extreme to hear some half-taught stripling delivering
his opinions with all the authority of an oracle. This is not
what we mean by mental independence; and it.is hoped
none will mistake what has been said.— We refer to a modest,
yet firm and independent exercise of judgment upon subjects
which the mind understands :—in short, we ‘intend only the
opposite of that slavish habit which makes one man the mere
shadow of another.
3. Acquire habits of abservation.—This is all-important.
We live in a world of wonders ; and a thousand objects
appeal to our observation, and will repay it. How much is
to be learned by a proper use of our eyes andears! I know
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
343
no more striking instance of this than that which we have
in Gilbert White’s ‘Natural History of Selborne,’ a book
which I would recommend to all, as deeply interesting, in
which several hundred closely printed pages are filled witn
the most curious and instructive observations upon nature,
made for the most part in the little village of Selborne,
where the author spent the greater part of his days. Dr.
Franklin, too, whom we have already mentioned, was re-
markable for this useful habit; and it is well said by Mrs.
Barbauld, ‘ that he would not cross a street, without making
some observation beneficial to mankind.’ Who that has
read them can ever forget his Essays? where a knowledge
of men and things is discovered, which could only be the
result of close and extensive observation. Books may teach
us much; but observation in some respects may teach us
more. That practical knowledge so useful in the progress
of life,—that tact in business so desirable to possess,—can
be gained only in this way. Observation, as a mode of
study, is the cheapest and most convenient of all. It may
be carried on almost any where and every where, because in
nearly all places in which we are there is something to be
learned, if we are disposed to receive instruction. Obser-
vation is connected with curiosity ;—the one sharpens the
other, and they produce a mutual influence. Now, when
curiosity prompts a wish to know more than we do on any
particular subject, and we have the means of information in
an intelligent friend, we should never lose the opportunity
of making the needful inquiries. Let not a false pride,
lest we should betray ignorance, prevent us from asking a
question, when it can be answered. How much knowledge
do we often lose, by wishing to appear wiser than we really
are. Mr. Locke, on being asked how he had contrived to
accumulate a mine of knowledge, so rich, deep, and exten-
sive, replied, ‘That he attributed what little he knew to the
not having been ashamed to ask for information ; and to the
rule he had laid down, of conversing with all descriptions of
‘men on those topics chiefly that formed their own professions
and pursuits ;’ and it was alsoa maxim of the great Sir
William Jones, never to neglect an opportunity of improve-
ment.
4. Give attention to reading.—Observation, after all, must
be limited: we can see and hear but comparatively little :
we must avail ourselves therefore of the eyes and ears of
others; and this is to be done through the medium of books.
There, the learned and the wise have recorded the results
of their observation for our benefit. Those who have but
little time, should be particularly careful in the selection of
what they read. It becomes them not only to avoid what is
positively injurious, but also what will prove useless ;—-to
seek and peruse such books as instruct and inform the
mind, furnishing them with facts upon which they may
meditate themselves ; and as their acquaintance with lite-
rature is in the very nature of the case circumscribed, in
the choice of books to be studied to avail themselves of the
advice of the Wise and judicious. Reading should be pur-
sued carefully, slowly, and with a determination to under-
stand. To derive benefit from reading, we must remember
and apply the information we obtain: but we shall fail to do
this unless we read with attention and care. For some it
may be a good plan to make notes of what they read; but,
generally speaking, perhaps it would be better, when a por-
tion of a volume has been perused, for the student to close
it, and try to express the substance of it in his own lan-
guage, as this imprints it on the memory more than the
manual exercise of the pen, and is likely to assist copious-
ness and facility of expression.
5. Cultivate humility —Humility is the attribute of great
and noble minds,—and how beautiful does it appear! Sir
Isaac Newton, in the true spirit of humility, spoke of him-
self at the close of life as a child who had spent his time in
gathering pebbles on the shore, while the ocean lay un-
traversed: and Mozart, just before he died, said, ‘ Now I
begin to see what might be done in music.” These ex-
pressions were worthy of the men, and they invest their
genius with greater loveliness, because they throw over it
the graceful mantle of humility. They in fact knew much,
and this taught them how much more remained to be known.
They ascended to a high elevation on the mountain of know-
ledge, but this only gave them a better idea of the loftiness
of the summit. .: If the circle of light be large, the boundary
of darkness will be equally so; and the more we know, the
more we shall be convinced of own ignorance, This is trite
344
enough; but-we cannot remember it too often and too
much, especially at the commencement of the pursuit of
knowledge. Then the young aspirant often fancies he
knows everything,—whereas in fact he knows nothing yet
as he ought to know. Conceit and fancied superiority are
the besetting sins of the mind, when it 1s beginning to
acquire knowledge. This must ‘be checked. If the great
apostles of science and philosophy confessed they knew so
little, what ground of boasting can there be for the tyro in
their schools? When tempted to pride themselves on their
attainments, Jet such look to the almost inexhaustible
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
[SepremMBER 2, 1837,
treasuires:of learning and genius which the illustrious dead
and the illustrious living have accumulated, and mark the
humility allied to true intellectual greatness ;—and then
blush for their folly in thinking so highly of themselves.
Humility, while it is so beautiful and becoming, is also
highly advantageous. It is a habit favourable of itself to
mental improvement, as it opens the mind to receive in-
struction with teachableness, and makes one willing to be
taught, corrected and helped.
Lastly.—Remember the importance of moral and re-
| ligious principles,
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[Market Place, Elvas.]
Tue Rua de las Cadeas, or street of the chains, so
named from the prison which stands in the centre, is
situated in the middle of the town of Elvas; the build-
ings which range along on either side being irregular,
and partaking much of that Moorish character so ob-
servable in the architecture of the Peninsula. Though
the generality of the Portuguese houses are clumsy and
disproportioned, there is an air of Gothic solidity, and
occasionally a profusion of ornament, which render
them picturesque when taken inthe mass. The Moorish
arched fronts, the latticed windows, the veranda, and
the beautiful luxuriance of the flowers, arranged in
fanciful pots along the house-tops—all lend their aid to
give a peculiar and pleasing effect to the narrow and
ill-paved streets; and an additional charm is, the uni-
versal custom amongst the fair sex of standing for
hours in the balconies while the sun declines, and is
succeeded by the refreshing coolness of the evening
breeze. It is along this street that the gorgeous pro-
cessions of the church proceed, either to or from the
cathedral, whose singular tower forms so attracting an
object in the praca, or square. It is here also that the
market is daily held, but the principal day, when it is
enriched by all the productions of the adjacent country,
is Monday. ‘Then may be seen the spruce farmer,
dressed .in his picturesque costume; the shepherd in
his jacket of sheep-skins, with his blanket thrown care-
lessly over his shoulder; the country lass, with her
‘clean muslin kerchief on her head, and best green
“capa,” trimmed with velvet of the same colour; the
muleteer; and, in short, specimens of every class, from
the rich fidalgo down to the poor mendicant, all equally
busied in their various occupations of buying, selling,
or exchanging.
%,° The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at 59, Lincoln’s Inn Fields,
LONDON :--CHARLES KNIGHT & CO,, 22, LUDGATE STREET,
Printed by Winttam Crowzs and Sons, Stamford Street,
THE PENNY MAGAZINE
OF THE
Society for the Diffusion: of Useful Knowledge.
349.
PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY.
[Sepremrer 9, 1837.
a
SKETCHES OF THE PENINSULA.—No, VIII.
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[Moorish Aqueduct at Elvas.]
We have already (in Nos. 345 and 348) given a brief
notice of the city of Elvas, and we shall now proceed
to offer a few remarks on the two forts, the Moorish
aqueduct, and the surrounding country. Perhaps few
situations could have been selected better adapted for a
series of fortifications than that of Elvas. Standing
on three detached hills, gradually rising upward, and
divided from each other by a hollow, they offer a means of
separate defence of the strongest nature. Santa Lucia
is the first of the series; it stands on a small hill which
commands the country all around, and is flanked by two
stroug redoubts; the figure being square, with bastions
and ravelins; and the entrance is by one gate facing
the city. The centre is occupied by a strong square
tower, or keep, which is entered half way up by a draw-
bridge from the ramparts. As this tower is of solid
masonry, and loopholed in every direction, the posses-
sion of the ramparts is but a secondary consideration,
as the defence of the tower may cause more loss to the
assailants than the entire operations necessary to reduce
the outworks to a heap of rubbish. On the top of the
tower is the governors house, which is entered by a
covered way from the drawbridge, and is otherwise
totally unconnected with the body of the building, so
that its destruction would not weaken the means of
defence. Besides the covert-way leading to the city, |
Vou. VI.
there is a mine or tunnel from the centre of the tower,
by which provisions, ammunition, or reinforcements
may be conveyed should the regular communication be
cut off. There is also a deep well, and a reservoir
sufficient to supply the garrison with water for twelve
months. The roof of the tower is bomb-proof, and
mounts twelve guns, or more when necessary. ‘The
earrison necessary to defend this fort, independent of
the redoubts, is 1000 men. The city occupies the
second hill, and contains eleven bastions in its circuit,
with ravelins, counter-vuards, and cavaliers; and the
southern gate is further protected by a crown-work of
considerable strength. The works of the castle are of
the nost powerful description; five batteries rising one
above another, and commanding the country in every
direction. The bastion de Principe mounts ten guns ;
and the bastion de Concacio, at the opposite angle,
thirteen, besides a number along the intermediate cur-
tains. Elvas, independent of her outworks, mounts
115 guns, and these within the short compass of less
than two miles.
Behind the town and castle of Elvas runs a deep
valley, through the bottom of which a little stream, or
rivetta, as it is called by the inhabitants, winds its mur-
muring way; here and there a small cottage may be
seen between the mighty forts; while as we ascend the
2 _¥
346
hill, the olive grove overshadows the road, and the
fountain of clear water, with its curious architecture,
invites the passenger to repose in the coolness of the
uinbrageous trees, to enjoy the refreshing draught. In
this solitude peace seems to dwell: the view of the fort
is concealed by the surrounding trees, and indeed after
he grove is passed, .we have no idea of being in the
inmediate neighbourhood of the strongest fort of its
Kind in Europe, and we stand in admiration oazine on
ihe fairy scene presented to our view. At our feet lies
the city with all her varied archite¢tnre and busy inha-
bitants, diminished by distance to pigmies, moving about
in the pursuit of their varied oecupations ; beyoud 1S
fort Santa Lucia, and the magnificent aqueduct, stretch-
ino at intervals along an extent of fifteen miles; the
beautiful valley of Almofeira, and the barren bleak hills
beyond; from which issues like a silver thread the “ dark
Guadiana,” broadening as it approaches towards the
city of Badajoz, and occasionally concealed from view,
now by the little town of Jerumania, now by the high
banks, and next reflecting the star-like Olivenga, di-
miished by distance to a bright speck, as the sun-beam
catches its whitewashed walls and enormous tower; now
again silently sweeping past the fishers cabin, and then
strugeling and foaming beneath the broad arches of the
bridge of Badajoz, till it becomes lost again behind
St. Christobal, the proud towers of Badajoz, the distant
heights of Albuera; and then again the town of Camno-
Mayor, with the intervening hills covered with olives
and quintas, and lemon and orange trees, form a pros-
pect of unrivalled grandeur, and cause the lover of the
beautiful works of nature and art to pause in silent
wonder on the scene beneath him: after the first burst
of adiniration is over, the desire to ascend to the top of
the nll to enjoy if possible a more extensive view from |
a greater height, or to rest and gaze at leisure, becomes
insurmountable; and notwithstanding the excessive
steepness of the ascent, we toil forward till we are sur-
prised by the challenge of the sentinel, and find that
unwittinely we have stumbled over fort ua Lippe, which
in our admiration we had scarcely remembered. The
olacis of this fort rise so gradually from the steep .
conical hill from which they spring as to be scarcely
perceptible, except from their extreme steepness ; and so
well screened from view are the works as not to be per-
ceived from the g@lacis, while at the same time fifty
guns could be pointed on the spot where we stand. It
is only on entering this fort that we become aware of its
strength, for though of the same figure as Santa Lucia,
a fortified square, there is so much more of solidity and
streneth, and so many obstructions to surmount, that
we wonder how so simple a figure could be rendered so
strong. At the back there is a horn-work, which takes
In the entire summit. The description of Santa Lucia
may he equally applied to this, only that every part is
stronger, the ditches are traversed In every direction by
loopholes and caseinates, while thre ramparts are crowded
with artillery. ‘I’lhere is a reservoir constantly supplied
with water sufhcient for the earrison of 2000 men for
two years, and stores of corn and provisions for that
time ave also Jaid up. ‘There is a mill within the walls
for erinding corn, and an oven for baking sufficient
bread, so that as there are no means for takin a the fort
but by treachery, surprise, or famine, the sieve of La
Lippe mnst be a work of patience, not to mention the
loss; for as the besieged will be perfectly safe within
their walls, so will the besiegers be completely exposed
to the fire of the earrison: though surrounded ou three
sides by hills, they are all too low and too well com-
manded by the fort to admit of any annoyance from
them. ‘There is a curious circumstance in natural his-
tory connected with fort La Lippe:
amazing depth, vields water which mixes readily with |
THE PENNY MAGAZINE,
|
|
[SEprempBer 9,
oil, and produces a thick fluid resembling milk, but the
flavour of which is disagreeable.
The Moorish Aqueduct, a representation of which ac-
companies this article, conveys the water of an excellent
spring, for the distance of fifteen miles, to the city,
where an immense reservoir is kept constantly filled,
and contains sufficient for the inhabitants for six
months: tke part which we have selected for our
sketch is that which crosses the valley of the Campo de
Feira (or Field of the Fair), being so named from the
aunual fair which is held there. It might be thought
ihat a conduit for water should be carried on in one
undeviating line; but the aqueduct of Elvas forms an
irregular zigzag, somewhat resembling the representa-
tions of a flash of lightning: the great height and
narrowness of the hill require this formation to give
greater strength, as every angle is a powerful supporter.
Unlike the celebrated aqueduct over the valley of Al-
cantara at Lisbon, whose vast arches rise to the height
of 332 feet, this consists of four stories, or tiers of
arches, the lower ones being nearly 100, feet and the
upper ones about 40 feet in height; giving a total,
allowing for the thickness of the arch, of about 250
feet in height. The valley which this stupendons pile
crosses is about one mile and a half in breadtli, and the
vastness of the work may be conceived, when we cou-
sider the immense quantity of masonry required to erect
a series of arches of this description, even were it no
more than to cross this valley, and the great leneth of
the work, crossing many hollows and stretching over
hill and vale to the fountain-head. It is supported at
intervals by large buttresses, some triangular, some
square, and some round, with stories decreasing in size
as they approach the top. 'Thaé the principles of hy-
draulics were known to the builders of this aqueduct is
evident, for the ancient fountains still existing in all
parts of the city attest the fact: we must suppose,
therefore, that the nature of the ground was sucli as to
prevent the possibility of laying a water-course: the
earth in this part of the country, as at Lisbon, scarcely
covers the rock, which is a species of coarse marble,
extremely hard; in many places long tunnels would
have been necessary ; the solid rock must have been cut
tarongh, and qnantities of masonry required to connect
parts separated by fissures and ravines; so that upon
consideration, the pile under our notice, giwantic as it
is, was probably the cheapest and least laborious ine-
thod of conveying water to the city: but be that as it
may, it will never cease to be an object of interest and
admiration both to the antiquary and the passing tra-
veller, as affording a specimen of the greatness of the
singular people by whom it was erected.
SLEIGHS AND SLEIGHING FROLICS.
[From a Correspondent. ]
SEVERAL writers of some eminence have attempted to
establish the principle, that the character of a people
may be the most accurately drawn—not from a study of
the institutions of the country, but by a reference to tlie
amusements and pastimes that the inhabitants most
ewenerally engage in during their hours of relaxation
from the cares and toils of ordinary life. Without
stopping to examine into the principles upon which this
theory is founded, few I think will deny, that when
labour and business are totally suspended, and there no
longer exists any peculiar restratnt over the tastes aud
inclinations—that the eenuine impulses of the human
character are the most likely to develop themselves.
Previous: to entering upon the amusement of sleigh-
ing as patronised in North America, I will give a brief
a well, which is of | account of the few rural pastimes which the people of
i that country resort to; for although they cannot be
18374
ignorant of those sports and amusements which have
existed from time immemorial in the country of their
progenitors, yet but few of them are adopted, and even
those few are seldom pursued with that ardour and zeal
we are accustomed to witness in other countries. To the
credit of the American nation, cock-fighting is totally
unknown amongst them, as is also prize-fighting, which
at one period was unfortunately much _ patronised
aimouest ourselves, and was by its advocates inisnamed
a manly instead of a brutal exhibition.
the States horse-racing is prohibited by law; and even
where it is tolerated the race-course possesses but little
attraction, except for the few that are immediately in-
terested, and such others as may be led thither throngh
a love of low gambling. Foot-races are scarcely ever
heard of; for even amongst the village-boys you seldom
witness any trials of their speed and agility. Fencing,
cudgelling, &c., are only known by name, while wrest-
ling and leaping are scarcely ever thought of. In short,
the whole catalogue of gymnastics appear to be con-
sidered neither useful nor interesting to our trans-
Atlantie brethren. Cricket, foot-ball, arse; and all the
long list of rural games end amusements common to
the different sections of our island, are about as little
known and practised in the United States as are ‘the
games and pastimes of the Chinese amongst our sober
selves. There may he trifling exceptions in some of
the larger towns and cities, where rackets and fives are
sometimes played a little ; but I know of no rnral game
that is sufficiently pursued to impart to it anything
approaching to a national character. Then, again, they
have no regular and_ periodical merry-makings, —no
village festivals, and country fairs and markets,—which
afford such a source of pleasure and eratification to the
rural population of happy England! Rarely do the
inhabitants of an American country town exert them-
selves so far as to muster a public dance, though at
country weddings they sometimes engage in_ this
exercise in their rural and rude habitations. Almost
the only occasions upon which the youne men assemble
to amuse themselves are the shooting-matches got up
by the landlord of some small country tavern, in order
that he may have an opportunity of disposing of an
extra quantity of his indifferent cider and whiskey. He
generally supplies a few turkeys to be contested for,
each shooter subscribing a small sum to entitle him to
a shot at a turkey; and a list of subscribers having’
been obtained, they cast lots to determine the first,
second, third, &e., chances for the turkey. Should the
bird be so fortunate as to escape the rifle-balls of the
whole party, the gain is the landlord’s; for the sub-
scribers have to enter into a new subscription to entitle
then to another shot at the turkey. Sometimes, how-
ever, the arrangement is different ; for the first person
that pays the stipulated price of a shot immediately
proceeds to the place appointed and fires, and if he be
so fortunate as to kill the turkey, the gain is his, and
the loss falls upon the landlord,—but if he miss the
bird, some other person (or the individual himself if no
one else wishes) pays a similar sum and tries his luck
at the turkey; the landlord continuing to receive so
much for each shot until some well-aimed bullet puts
an end to the contest. It must not, however, be sup-
posed that the Backwoods riflemen have the whole
body of the turkey to aim at.—No such thing! The
bird is placed in the rear of the stump of a tree, or
behind a stout plank that is considered bullet-proof,
and in such a manner that only its head and neck can
be seen, and not even these except when the bird .
foolish enough to lift its head and look around it;
that it not only requires consilerable precision to hits SO
small a mark as a turkey’s lead at the distance of 80
or 100 yards, but also an equal.degree of quickness,
since the head of the turkey is continually on. the move,
In many of
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
SSS ee tee
1 pe RF Se RAR A A A Rm
“Aw
347
and frequently bobbing below its safe hiding-place.
This is almost the only popular amusement with the
Backwoodsmen; but | am not sure that the excitement
of the tavern-keeper’s whiskey-bottle has not nearly as
much influence in the matter as their partiality for
rifle-shooting. ‘The females, however, can take no part
in those emaciiie nis § peand although I have no hesita-
tion in stating that the Americans in general are good
and kind husbands, yet it must be admitted that they
afford the females very few opportunities of escaping
from their sedentary spinning and weaving, and their
other manifold in-door domestic occupations. On the
Sabbath Day, however, they may be seen accompany-
ing their husbands to places of public worship ; and
even should the males of the family prefer lounging
about home, or going a hunting into the woods, or a
fishing in the streams and small lakes (which is the
case too often), you will frequently see the females
travelling several miles to church or meeting without
them.
In the interior of the country, long journeys are most
venerally undertaken in the depth of winter; for the
roads being almost impassable at any other season, on
account of their general imperfections and the want of
bridges, it necessarily follows that a hard frost in a
great measure supplies the place of a bridee-builder,
while a deep covering of snow hides many of the
obstacles which serve to impede the progress of wheel-
carriages, ‘That, too, is the season of comparative
leisure compared with the rest of the year; for not only
are farming operations totally suspended, but so also
are many of the domestic duties of the housewife,
amonest which is that of superintending her dairy, as
most of the farmers dry up their milch-cows at the
commencement of winter. When the snow lies to the
depth of two or three feet, wheel-carriages are quite out
of the question, and therefore sleighs or sledges are
substituted, the kind and quality depending upon the
tastes or circumstances of the owners. Some are of the
rudest possible workmanship, others disfigured by the
most gaudy and ill-arranged colours, with attempts at
ornament that render the performance truly ridiculous ;
while others are as stout and clumsy as if it were
intended they should last acentury at the least. Besides
these, there are a few belonging to persons of property
and imore refined taste, which would, in their general
construction and finish, be no disgrace to a London
coach-builder. Some of them are drawn by one horse
and others by two, but three abreast, Russian fashion,
is never attempted. On stage-coach routes they com-
monly place the hody of the coach upon the runners of
a sleieh rather than go to the expense of constructing
revular sleizhs sufficiently capacigus to contain a coach-
load of passengers with their complement of luggage ;
aud on these occasions they are driven four-in-hand,
coach fashion. Vehicles of every description used for
travelling in the snow, and drawn by two horses, are
called sleiwhs ; but eect drawn by one horse ic
various names according to their form or construction,
depending however in some measure upon the section
of country you happen to bein; for “ pnt,” * cutter,”
‘ jumper, ? “ vomter,”’ &c., re amongst the names
given to one-horse sleighs, the adoption of which it
might be difficult to account for in the ordinary way.
Many a Yankee traveller, overtaken by deep falls of
snow and severe frost, Berit puzzling his bras lone
about what is best to be done, halts at the first road-
side cabin he comes to; and having borrowed an axe
from the occupier, he sets off into the forest im search
of a suitable hickory sapling ; which, having succeeded
in finding, he returns to the cottage, where he splits
his hickory-stick in order to make a pair of runners
for a “ jumper;’ and having also procured an aucer
with which to make holes,—without any other imple-
2Y 2
348
tnent than those two already named, he presently ma-
nages to fit up a vehicle in which to pursue his journey
for scores or hundreds of miles. Nota nail or iron in
any shape is employed in the construction of a jumper ;
and if the ingenious traveller can procure a piece of
cord as a substitute for reins,—with the assistance of
his horse’s bridle and the girths of his saddle, he ma-
nages to attach his horse to the crazy-looking little
sleigh; and making a seat of his saddle, away he drives
as collteuted as if he were embarked in the most splendid
conveyance, having been delayed in his journey but a
few hours. Sometimes not even shafts are fixed to
these frail machines; but in such cases the traveller is
put to some inconvenience if the country be hilly; for
in the steep descents he finds it necessary to drag a
ronegh piece of timber, or the branch of a tree behind
the jumper, in order to guard against its running foul
of his horse's heels, as well as to prevent it from yawing’
about like a ship that refuses to answer her rudder. I |
remember once having purchased a “‘ jumper, ’—fully
equipped—for the small sum of one dollar; but a
Yankee traveller would have made it himself, and so
lave saved his money. ‘There are no sleighs, except
of the very highest order, that are built in the form of
close carriages. Generally speaking they are open at
the top and sides, the back being elevated as high as
the shoulders, while the front rises sufficiently high to
prevent much snow being dashed back into the sleigh
from the hind shoes of the horses when you travel at a
o-ood speed.
In those districts and cities where snow but seldom
falls in sufficient quantities to admit of sleighing, the
inhabitants consider it quite a fortunate occurrence
when they happen to be visited by a snow-storm that
enables them to enjoy a little sleigh-driving. As for |
myself I cannot help remarking, that where the roads
are good, and where there are no peculiar obstacles in
the way of wheel-carriages, I never have been able to
discover anything decidedly superior in this peculiar
mode of travelling. In the first place, the sleigh being
open, you are exposed to the inclemency of the weather,
and it becomes necessary to provide robes and furs to
protect your person from the cold, which is often intense.
Then from the almost total absence of motion, the
blood is not kept in the same degree of circulation as
if mounted upon horseback, or even seated in a rude
Backwoods’ carriage hung upon unyielding springs.
Indeed almost the only advantage I have been able to
discover in this mode of travelling is the greater ease
for the horses you employ; for a common two-horse
sleigh—runners and all included—does not weieh more
than ten or twelve stone; and when we consider that
the runners are shod with cast-iron or steel, which, by
a little use, becomes as smooth and polished as a pair
of skates, it will easily be conceived how very trifling
must be the friction upon the frozen and level snow ;
so that where the country is neither remarkably rough
nor hilly, with a pair of pretty good horses you will be
able to travel long journeys in a short time. I have
myself driven a couple of stout ponies at the rate of
uearly sixty miles a day, during a journey of several
hundred miles, where the roads were but indifferent,
and where the accommodations both for man and horse
were infinitely worse.
The runners upon which the body of the sleigh rests
are about eighteen or twenty inches high ; and where
they stand upon the ground, about two feet nine inches
asunder. ‘They are not placed qnite perpendicularly,
but sloping outwards; so that the upper part of the
frame upon which the body of the sleigh rests is a few
inches narrower than the space upon which the runners
stand. ‘This position of the runners prevents the sleigh
from being easily npset; and in order the more to guard
against its overturning, it is provided with horizontal.
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
[SerremBeEr 9,
side-pieces, or “ fenders,” projecting eight or nine inches
alone the whole upper line of the frame, so that should
the sleigh by any accident be overturned, the fender
would prevent it from falling flat upon its side, and
consequently the sleigh-riders would probably not be
thrown out. When there is plenty of snow upon the
o'round, a few rolls from a sleigh are seldom productive
of disagreeable consequences beyond that of getting
immersed in the banks of snow; but when the roads
are icy, and the snow ina hard and frozen state, such
tumbles cannot be taken with impunity, so that ac-
cidents do sometimes occur even from the upsetting of
a Sleich.
I have already stated that the Americans are little in
the habit of seeking amusements of any kind; but
ainongst the few popular recreations they engage in,
that of “ sleigh-frolicking ” ranks very high. In small
country towns or villages, parties of a dozen or twenty
young people (imale and female) embark on board
three or four sleighs, cutters, &c.; and when the nights
are beautifully clear, but cold as severe frost can make
them, they will drive ten or fifteen miles into the
country to some comfortable little tavern (if any such
there be), where they spend a few hours in mirth and
jollity, reraling themselves with the best that the esta-
blishment affords ; when, having ate, drank, sung,
danced, and “ frolicked”’ until a pretty late honr, the
sleizhs are once more got ready, and in high glee and
spirits they drive merrily home again. Each horse
being provided with a string of good bells, the lonely
and silent forests are often thus enlivened at the solemn
hour of midnight by the jocund tinkling of the rapidly-
passing’ sleich-bells. Many little love affairs are said
to originate in these ‘‘ sleighing-frolicks ;” for previous
to setting out, the whole party is arranged and sub-
divided into as many portions as there are sleighs; and
in order to make the excursion as pleasant as prac-
ticable, due regard is had in the divisions that take
place, so that the individuals occupying each sleigh
should be as agreeable to each other as possible.
THE DROPPING-WELL AT KNARESBOROUGH.
Tue ancient town of Knaresborough, in Yorkshire,
though not of large extent, is situated in an interesting
part of the country, and has several interesting histo-
rical and traditional associations connected with it.
The town itself is not particularly remarkable; it is a
parliamentary borough, and the manufacture of linen
is carried on in it to a considerable extent. ‘The Nidd
runs close past it—a stream of minor importance ¢e-
nerally, but which, in its short course from the high
moorlands till it joins the Ouze, flows through some
delightful scenery. On one side of the river (the side
on whicli the town lies) are the rnins of Knaresborough
Castle; opposite is the famous Dropping-Well, and in
the cliffs, or steep banks, are caves or excavations
made in ancient and modern times, but alike in the
circumstance of having been formed by persevering but
misapplied industry. One excavation bears the name
of St. Robert’s Cave (St. Robert was a famous ascetic
of the thirteenth century, whose chapel and hermitage
are aiso shown here), but which is rendered more re-
markable as having been the scene of the murder
committed by the schoolmaster, Eugene Aram, whose
memory has been embalmed in a novel. Other exca-
vations were formed by an industrious weaver and his
son, who also cut the cliff into terraces, rising one
above another, and planted them with flowering shrubs
and evergreens. ‘The cliffs on both sides of the Nidd,
near Knaresborough, are said by Professor Sedgewick
to exhibit some fine modifications of the magnesian
limestone,
THE PENNY MAGAZINE,
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349
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1837.)
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delightful. The : spring rises at the foot of a limestone |
rock, at some little distance from the rock, where it
spreads and trickles over, falling in a number of little
streams, with a kind of tinkling sound. Dr. Short’s
description of the well, written upwards of a century
aco (in 1734), seems to be the progenitor of subse-
quent accounts. He says, “‘ The most noted of the
petrifying waters in Yorkshire is the Dropping-Well
at Knaresborough, which rises up about fourteen yards
below the top of a small mountain of marlestone (pro-
perly a limestone of a very coarse grain), on the west
side of the town and river, and abont twenty-six yards
from the bank of the Nid; then it falls down in the
same contracted rapid stream about a yard, and ata
second fall at two yards’ distance it comes two feet lower,
then three or four, and so falls upon an easy ascent,
divides and spreads itself upon the top of an isthmus
of a petrified rock generated out of the water, and
there falls down round it: about four or five yards from
the river, the top of this isthmus or rock hangs over its
bottom four yards. ‘This rock is ten yards high, sixteen
yards long, and from thirteen to sixteen yards broad ;
but on the bank side it is twelve yards high. ‘This
little island slipped down and started from the common
bank about thirty years ago, and leaves a chasm be-
tween them from a yard and a half to three yards wide ;
in this chasm, on the back and lower side of the part
that is fallen down, are petrified twigs of trees, shrubs,
aud e@rass roots, hanging in most beautiful pillars, all
interwoven, and forming a great many charming figures.
On the other, or common bank side of the chasm are
whole banks or coverings, like stalactites, very hard,
and inseparable (without breaking) from the rock where
the water trickles down from the opposite side. This
springs sends out about twenty eallons ith 2 minute of
the sweetest water I ever tasted; from its rise till its
fall over the common bank are several petrifactions
upon the stones, but none upon the grass, &c., till it
It springs
of
a thick set of shrubs. This little isthmus is beautifully
clothed with ash, osier, elm, ivy, lady’s mantle, cowslips,
wild angelica, meadow sweet, &c. &c. This water, both
at the spring and from the rocks, is of equal weight, and
each twenty-four grains in a pint heavier than common
water.”
The petrifying property of the water of the Dropping-
Well is owing to a g@ritty or sparry matter, which en-
crusts the objects it is deposited on. Mr. De la Beche
says, “* Springs are seldom or ever quite pure, owing
(o the solvent property of water, which, percolating
through the earth, always becomes more or less charged
with foreion matter. ae cure) te vy epster describes
the hot springs of Furnas [in the volcanic district of
St. Michael, Azores] as respectively varying in tem-
perature from 73° to 207° Fahrenheit, and depositing
large quantities of clay and siliceous matter, which en-
velop the grass, leaves, and other vegetable substances
that fall within their reach. These they render more
or less fossil. The vegetables may be observed in all
staves of petrifaction *. 7
Har rowgate is about three miles from Knaresborough.
The latter ‘place had some repute as a watering resort,
until the mineral springs of Harrowgate completely
threw it into the shade.
_= SS
PUBLIC INSTRUCTION.—THE CHARITY-
SCHOOL SYSTEM.
(From a Pamphlet, entitled ‘ Schools for the Industrious Classes ;
or, the Present State of Education among the Working People of
England. Published under the Superintendence of the Central
Society of Education.)
THE most serious objection that has yet been urged
avainst a national provision for the education of ‘the
people i is, *‘ that it would check, and finally put a stop
* De la Beche’s ‘ Geologica] Manual,’ p. 156.
350 THE rENNY
to, the working of the voluntary-school system, and
throw the whole burden of existing free schools upon
the governmeut.’> We are tald that °* the effect of
every grant is to reduce the amount of the donations
and subscriptions by which schools are generally sup-
ported.” For such a result it is necessary to be pre-
pared. Private individuals of course relax in their
exertions when the subject is taken up in a quarter
able to render much more powerful and efficacious as-
sistance than they can afford, and it is therefore reason-
able to conclude, that whatever money may be voted in
aid of free schools, more will be required, until the full
suim necessary for their support shall be supplied from
the samme source, or raised by means of local taxation.
Looking at the question as one of political economy,
it is of very little importance by which mode the funds
for education may be raised. Whether subscribed by
the public (supposing the public willing to contribute
to the full amount required), or paid in the shape of a
school rate, is immaterial, for in both cases the money
would, for the most part, come out of the pockets of the
saine class of persons. The only subject for serious
consideration is, whether the funds would be more judi-
clously applied, and the ebject better effected, by a
central administration, than by the host of private, local,
and independent societies that have sprung up in every
direction for a similar purpose.
Lhe objection noticed is easily answered, for what-
ever may become of existing free schools, the working
classes ought not to be dependent for elementary in-
struction upon charity. The very act of sending a
child to a charity school (and we call all schools charity
schools supported by private benevolence) lias a ten-
dency to defeat one of the most important objects of
edneation—namely, the cultivation of a spirit of self-
reliance and independence. ‘The charity-school svstem
IS a pauperizing system. It produces in the mind, first,
a painful sense of obligation, but this gradually wears
away; the poor become accustomed to the burden of fa-
vours heaped upon them by the rich, and learn to stoop
(hat the load may be increased ; the value of education
ceases to be properly estimated, and the cottager at
last adopts the notion that his would-be benefactors are
really indebted to him for permitting his children to go
to their school.
On the mind of children the effect is equally pre-
judicial. A child at a free school is continually re-
minded of the gratitude he owes to the ladies and
gentlemen who have taken the trouble to provide for
his education. When attending public worship, the
same lesson is inculeated in charity sermons. At
pubhe dinners he is paraded round a room, and in-
dulged with a glass of wine to drink the health of his
benefactors. He is taught to sing hymns, or odes, in
their praise, and perhaps he is put into blue or green
wuiform, and compelled to wear a badge, to distinguish
him from other children, and complete lis degradation.
Thus the very first position in which he is placed in
life 1s analogous to that of a beggar. He is made to
feel that he is a receiver of alms, and learns to consider
it no shame. ‘The first spark of honest pride (if ever
kindled in his breast) dies away within him; the first
exercise of his reasoning powers only leads him to dis-
cover that there are other means of getting through
the world than by self-exertion, and he becomes a tame,
spiritiess, nerveless creature. Or perhaps (for the
svstem sometimes produces a species of re-action which
is equally mischievous) the severity of the discipline,
and the pain and weariness arising from the mechanical
drudgery of an ill-conducted school, tempt him to break
through all restraint, and to become:a vagabond for
life,
Lhe pauperizing tendency of the preseut charity-
MAGAZINE. [SEPremBer 9,
school system, if it continue, will by-and-by render it
necessary to bribe every working man to send his chil-
dren to school. The bribery principle is already ex-
tensively in operation, and is gradually destroying all
the schools that have not recourse to the same expe-
dient. Good-natured people go round among the poor,
inquiring why their children are not sent to school, and
are told, it is because they have no shoes, or stockings,
or decent clothes. A subscription is forthwith raised
for a clothing fund, and the parents are informed that
every child who attends the school for a certain time
will be furnished with two pairs of shoes, two pairs of
stockings, a hat or a cap, and a suit of clothes. Many
schools have it not in their power to be liberal quite to
this extent, and are obliged to confine their gifts to one
pair of shoes, or a new bonnet once a year. Hence the
poor are led to inquire, not which is the best school for
their children, but which school will pay them the best,
il this mode, for their attendanice.
In a healthy state of things, a child would not be
sent to an inefficient school; but the consequeiice of
the present system is, that the very worst schools, in
regard to the amount of instruction communicated, have
now the greatest number of scholars; these schools
being always the richest, and therefore enabled to give
away the most clothing, if not to bestow besides eratui-
tles In money, as apprentice fees. We have met with
instances in which children have been sent for six years
to a school, in which they have not been taught effectu-
ally even to read. Qn interrogating the parents, why
the children were not taken away, the answer always
was,—‘* There ts no other school in the neighbourhood
in which they can get so well clothed gratis.”
The following anecdote will illustrate one of the
mischiefs of making education dependent upon charity :
—A gentleman in Kent had built a school on his estate,
for the instruction of the children of his labourers. It
happened that having no more work for one of them,
he was obliged to discharge him. The intimation to
that effect was received with the following threat :—
‘Then, Sir, I must take away my children from your
school.”” The man evidently felt, that sending his
children to the school had been one of the conditions of
his employment, and considering the obligation to be
mutual, thought that the threat to take his children
away would prevent his own discharge.
Were free schools established by Government, or by
the local authorities of every district, instead of owing
their origin to private individuals or committees, educa-
tion would no lounger be considered in the light of either
a favour conferred or received. ‘The privilege of send-
ing a child. to school would be claimed as a right to
which all would be entitled by the laws of their country,
and the bribery system would cease with the interference
of the often ill-judging friends of the poor.
Another reason why elementary education should not
be dependent upon charity is, that the system has a
tendency to perpetuate the distinctions and dissensions
of sects In religion. Private individnals cannot, like
Governinent, assume a neutral position. Iivery person
attempting to set up a school for the gratuitous instruc-
tion of the children of the poor is immediately identi-
fied as a Churchman, a Catholic, an Independent, a
Baptist, a Quaker, a Unitarian, or as belonging to
some one or other denomination. ‘This leads to the
supposition that his object is to propagate the re-
ligious opinions he entertains, and hence a disposi-
tion on the part of those who hold other sentiments to
draw the children away, and to set up an opposition
school.
1837,]
STATISTICS OF LUNACY AND CRIME IN AN
AGRICULTURAL AND MANUFACTURING
DISTRICT.
THE growth of sound opinions on many important
social questions may in a great degree be attributed to
the increasing recourse to statistical researches—that is,
to better modes of arriving at truth. Every subject is
now minutely investigated and analyzed, and being
presented under a variety of aspects, correct opimious
can be formed by those who have not leisure for the
whole task of inquiry. The carefully prepared ‘ Tables
showing the Number of Criminal Offenders (fugland
aud Wales) in 1836,’ and a set of tables prepared at
the office of the Poor Law Commissioners, showing the
number of pauper lunatics and idiots in England and
Wales, may be adduced as instances of improved sta-
tistical data to which we can now refer. IJirformation
of this description may be the means of directing men
of cnlarged minds to the correction of social evils, and
is therefore of great valne.
It appears that the total number of pauper funa-
ties and idiots in England is 12,668, of whom 6044
are lunatics and 6624 are idiots. Two-thirds of the
total number (8438) are under the care and manage-
ment of the guardians of the poor; 2754 are confined
in asylums built under the provisious of George IV.,
c. 40; and 1476 are in private asylums. ‘There is a
larger number of females in each class than of males.
There ave 2665 male and 3379 female: Iunatics—that
is, 126°S females to 100 males; and there are 307]
males and 3553 females in a state of idiotcy, the pro-
portion being 115°6 females to 100 males. ‘Taking the
two classes togwether, the proportion is 120°35 females
to 100 males. The West Riding of Yorkshire is an
exception to the rule, and there are 113 males to 100
females. ‘I'he proportion of females is the largest in
Gloucestershire, being 159 females to 100 males. In
Surrey the proportion is 152 females to LOO males;
and in Middlesex, 151°8 females to 100 inales.
The proportion of pauper lunatics and idiots to the
total population is 1 in 1038 in England, and 1 in 807
in Wales: of lunatics solely, the proportion is 1 in 2166
in England, and | in 2252 in Wales; of idiots solely,
the proportion is 1 in 1976 in England, and 1 in 1258
in Wales.
I*or the purpose of instituting a comparison between
the intellectual and moral state of an agricultural and
manufacturing population, we have taken the seven
counties having the largest proportion of the former,
excluding’ Rutland, on account of its small size, and
also excluding Cambridge, in order to bring the amount
of population as nearly equal as possible to the county
which has the minimum amount of population engaged
in agriculture. ‘he seven counties are Bedford, Bucks,
Kisssex, Huntingdon, Hereford, Lincoln, and Suffolk ;
and they contain a population amounting to 1,337,704.
On the other hand, Lancashire contains‘a population
of 1,336,854, the difference being only 850. ‘There is
every possible difference which could be desired in con-
trastin@ the two classes, the proportion of population
engaged directly in agriculture varying from 51 to 56
per cent. of the total amount in the seven counties,
while in Lancashire not more than 94 per cent. of the
population are engaged in agricultural pursuits. For
the sake of convenience, the population of the seven
above-inentioned counties will be alluded to as the
agricultural district,—as if it were a single large
county,—and that of Lancashire as the manufacturing
class, or manufacturing district.
It has been seen that, taking the population of Eug-
land, the proportion of lunatics and idiots is 1 in 1038 ;
but in the above agricultural counties it is 1 in 872,
and in Lancashire only 1 in 1790. The proportion is
as 224 to 100, or more than 2 tol. In the manufac-
THE PENNY MAGAZINE,
351
turing district there are 117°S female lunatics and idiots
to 100 males; and in the agricultural] district 124 fe-
males to 100 males. Separating the lunatics and idiots,
there arc 121 female lunatics to 100 male Innatics in the
manufacturing district ; and in the agricultural district,
110 female to 100 male lunatics. Taking paupers in
a state of idiotcy, there are 113 females to 100 males in
Lancashire ; and in the seven agricultural counties,
149 females to 100 males. In Laueashire, the num-
ber of lunatics is larger than that of persons in a state
of idiotey,—and in the agricultural district the reverse
is the case; the proportion in Lancashire being 100
idiots to 143 lunatics, and in the agricultural district
174 idiots to 100 lunatics. In the manufacturing dis-
trict there is 1 lunatic to 3326 of the population; in
the agricultural district, 1 to 2736; and of idiots, the
proportion in the former district is only 1 to 4474,
while iu the latter it is as high as 1 to 1567.
By way of generalizing these facts, it may be stated,
that both lunacy and idiotcy are more prevalent amongst
the agricultural than the manufacturing population ;
that lunacy is the prevailing type of mental disorgani-
zation amongst the latter, and idiotcy amongst the
former. Idiotcy may be regarded as arising out of a
lower average intellectual status of the population than
lunacy, the latter being often the unhappy concomitant
of luxury and high civilization. Lunacy is often occa-
sioned by some stroke of overwhelming force, which
casts down reason from its seat ; while the larger num-
ber of idiotic persons have never experienced the light
of reason, or if they have, it has been dim and feeble
In its nature. Out of 5259 idiots, in 436 Unions, 3841
had been in that condition from birth,—the proportion
being 143 to 100.
A strong coincidence is to be noted between the pre-
valence of pauperism and idiotcy; and no one ac-
quainted with the vices originating in the mal-adininis-
tration of the funds for the relief of the poor will feel
surprised at this being the case. The old system de-
based and depressed the population ;—robbed the la-
bourer of his independence ;—trcated despitefully the
noble poverty of which a man need not have been
ashamed, and pampered the base and servile spirit of
pauperism. A labourer could scarcely employ his in-
tellectual faculties to more advantage than in endea-
vouring to cleat the overseer by arts resembling those
which idiots so frequently possess to the exclusion of
better faculties. ‘The effects of this system, which for
above thirty years oppressed the deserving poor, may
be traced to some extent in the fact, that in the seven
purely agricultural counties to which we have confined
our attention the lunatics and idiots were as 1 to 872
of the total population, aud the poor-rates averaged
14s. per head in 1834; while in Lancashire, where the
rates averaged only 3s. 9d. per head, there are not so
many lunatics and idiots by one-half, the proportion
being 1 in 1960; and of idiots solely, only 1 in 4474,
while in the agricultural district it is 1 in 1567.
Taking the same amount of agricultural and manu-
facturing population, we shall, in connexion with
crime, see other social peculiarities developed In the
civil wars of the seventeenth century, the coulttry
population was as eight to one compared with the
town population; but two centuries have done more
than reverse the proportion, for the agricultural, com-
pared with the non-agricultural population,’ is now
as one to two, instead of beine eight to one. The
facilities of locomotion have wonderfully increased, and
the chances of detecting crime have been rendered
less easy; the opportunities for committing depreda-
tions have become more numerous with the increase of
wealth, and yet neither of these aids and incentives to |
crime have, generally speaking, been accompanied
by more active means for its repression; for the
352
parish constables of Alfred's time are still the only
police force of many parts of the country. It is not
therefore surprising, considering the many changes
which have taken place in the circumstances of the
people, that crime should have increased. Yet the
change in the proportions of the rnral and town popula-
tion does not in itself appear to have contributed much
towards increasing the number of criminals. Although
a country population is very seldom affected by the
casualties which deprive a manufacturing population of
the means of obtaining a livelihood by industry, yet the
amount of crime is greater in the former class than
might have been expected. In France, the town popu-
lation is in the proportion of only abont I to 44, yet
crime is more prevalent than in Eneland; the nnmber
of offenders indicted being 1 to each 550 inhabitants,
and in Eneland and Wales, in 1836, being not more than
lin 662. In Lancashire, where the proportion of coun-
try population is smallest, about one-tenth only, and
the great bulk of the population is dependent upon the
demand for their labour in factories and workshops,
crime is less prevalent than in France, where property
in land is more extensively diffnsed than in any country
in Europe, the proportion of offenders in Lancashire
being 1 to 590, and in France, as before stated, 1] to
550. ‘These are apparent anomalies, the cause of which
can only be'discovered by a minute investigation of the
circumstances of each people. :
The following is a tabular view of the number of
persons charged with indictable offences in an equal
amount of agricultural and non-agricultural population,
viz., 1 seven agricultural counties, and in one manu-
facturing county :—
Total number charged. Proportion to Population.
Years. Agricultural, Manufacturing, Agricultural. Manufacturing.
1834 , 2096". . 2778 . . 1in638 . 1 in 481
1835 2017 . . 2654 1in 663 . Lin 503
1836 © 216098 . 226d . Linobl7 . 1 ineaeo
In the manufacturing county the decrease of crime
in 1836, as compared with 1834, is 22 per cent.; in the
agricultural district crime had increased 3 per cent. in
the same period. Comparing 1836 with 1835, crime
had decreased 17 per cent. in the former district, and
nearly 5 per cent. in the latter; but, in 1836, crime
was comparatively more prevalent than in 1834, while,
in the mannfacturing district, it had diminished nearly
one-fifth. In the agricultural district, about one
person out of every three tried is acquitted; in the
manufacturing district, not one ont of four. In the
foriner district there are seven male criminals to one
female; in the latter only two to one female. There is
a great difference in the two districts as to the age of
- offenders, The real difference in the total number of
criminals is only 12 per cent., but in the manufacturing
district the difference in the number of criminals of the
age of 12 and under is 184 instead of only 12 per
cent.; in those of the age of 12 and under 16, the
difference is 69 per cent. instead of 12. Above 16
years and under 21, the proportion commences to re-
establish itself, and the difference is 4 per cent., thongh
it should be 12 per cent.; but in the next period, from
the age of 21 to 30, the proportion is 12 per cent. higher
in the agricultural than in the manufacturing: district,
instead of being exactly the reverse. After the age of
30, the proportion of offenders in the manufacturing
is Ll per cent. higher than in the agricultural district,
which is within 1 per cent. of the true proportion.
There were 386 criminals in 1836 in England and
Wales, whose ages were 12 and under, of which Lan-
cashire furnished 51 and Middlesex 84, together 135, or
nearly 2 out of 3. In the agricultural district the propor-
tion is only 1 in 21. These facts speak for themselves.
Juvenile crime is more prevalent, in the proportion of
18 to 1, in the mannfacturing than in the agricultural
district. In the former, from the age of 16 to 20 is the
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
4
'
‘
[SepreMBER 9, 1837,
period most liable to crime; in the latter, the period of
the greatest criminal activity is from 2] to 30. .
In the characteristics of crime there is a rather larger
number of ‘ offences against the person,” and a con-
siderably larger number of attacks on property accom-
panied with violence, in the agricultural than in the
manufacturing district ; while in the manufacturing dis-
trict theft is the most prevailing crime. The absolute
number of offenders under each head is as follows :—
Acricunruran District.
Offeneos Offencesaramst Offences against Malicious Of-
agrinstthe Property with Property without fences against Forgery, Other
Person. Violence. Violenee. Property. c. Cla-ses,
189 @e8@et%®e 97 ®eese © 8 6 1545 e@eeete 28 eoe@¢ 6 @ 20 eee 150
Manuracrurina Disrricr.
180 @eee6ee 53 @eet# @ @ 1846 @e @@ 8 @ 5 e@easse@ 30 eo @ @ dail
The following tabular view of the degree of instruction
which criminals in each district had received, with the
centesimal proportions subsequently @iven, renders any
comment almost unnecessary :—
Tnstruction
Neither read Readand Readand = superiorto Instruction
nor write im- write reading and not
write. perfectly, well. Writing. ascertained.
Agricultural district 843 .. 1023 .. 206... 17 ... 58
Manufacturing do. 980 .. 1113 .. 122... 10. 42
England & Wales 7033 . 10,983 .. 2215 ... 191 ... 562
Centesimal Proportion.
| Agricultural dist. 38.93 . 47.76 9. Mai eee renee
Manufacturing do. 43.27 . 40.22 .. 5.38 .. 0.04 .. 1.85
England & Wales 33.52 . 52.33 . 10.56 Onl a. 2a68
France . « « (ehGied 06 20) si/ meme ee ee —
Do. 2nd convictions 5920 |.. “31.7 ny ee 2
It would seem from this table, that crime fills its
ranks from the ignorant and the imperfectly cultivated
in 86 out of every 100 offenders in the agricultural
district; in the manufacturing district the proportion
is 83 out of each 100; in Eneland and Wales 85; and
in France 87, But in France the criminals who have
been imperfectly instructed in the simplest elements of
education are much smaller in number than in Ene-
land, a fact indicative of the more general facility of
obtaining instruction of a better kind than is enjoyed
by the same class in England. Those who have un-
happily received no instruction whatever form the
largest proportion of criminals in~ France, while in
Eneland it is those who have received the semblance of
instruction. In England and Wales about two-thirds
have received instruction, but of so imperfect and
worthless a character, that only 1 in 10 can read and
write, and only 1 in 100 have attained anything beyond
mere reading and writing. In Lancashire, the pro-
portion which has received instruction is about one-
half, 1 in 8 of whom can read and write well, and | in
111 only have gone beyond the simplest degree of in-
struction. In the agricultural district nearly one-half
have also been instructed; 1 in-> read and write im-
perfectly, and 1 in 60 have advanced beyond this simple
step. The re-organization of the means of instruction
would necessarily prevent the recurrence of similar facts.
Coffee in the Desert.—It is astonishing what effect the
smallest portion of the strong coffee made by the Arabs
has; no greater stimulus is required in the longest and most
arduous journeys. It is universal throughout the Kast, but
more used by the Arabs of the desert than by any other
class ; they will often go without food for twenty-four hours
if they can but have recourse to the little dram of coffee,
which, from the small compass in which they carry the
apparatus, and the readiness with which it is made, they can
always command. I can vouch for both its strengthening
and exhilarating effect; it answers these purposes better
than I can conceive it possible a dram of spirits could do to
those who indulge in it—Aajor Skinner's Adventures in
the East.
*.* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at
59, Lincoln’s Inn Fields.
LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT & CO., 22, LUDGATE STREET,
,Printed by WiLL1amM CLowEs and Sons, Stamford Street.
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Soc
350.)
VoL. VI.
354
ENGELBERT, Count of Nassau, and governor of Bra-
bant, was one of the most distinguished of the men of
his age and country, though he does not make his ap-
pearance in the novel of ‘ Quentin Durward,’ in which
Sir Walter Scott has roughly sketched the character,
and the “court and camp,” of Charles Le Téméraire.
Charles, the last Duke of Burgundy (he was great-
orandfather of the emperor Charles V.), acquired his
title of Le Téméraire, the rash or fool-hardy, from his
violent, impetuous, and inconsiderate conduct ; but he
was not altogether the mere mad bull he appears to be
in ‘Quentin Durward.’ He knew how to value men
of worth and valour, and to attach them to his person
and interests. Thus Engelbert, Count of Nassau, a
nobleman of high character and family, who, according
to the estimation of the time, was “ valiant, brave, and
wise,’’ was a chief favourite with Charles, one in whom
he reposed great confidence, and who returned thiat
confidence by a devoted adherence to the House of
Burgundy. Charles made him, in 1473, one of the
knights of the Golden Fleece (an order which had been
founded by Philip, Charles’s father), which was consi-
dered then an honour of the highest kind, from the
reputation in which the order was held. Engelbert
was taken prisoner at the battle of Nancy, which was
fought on the 2nd of January, 1477, in which Charles,
with many of his nobility, perished. He continued
afterwards to be respected by his contemporaries ; and
the crafty Louis XI. of France, in the furtherance of
his efforts to secure Burgundy, now left without a male
heir, tried to engage Engelbert in his service. Engel-
bert died childless in 1504.
Brabant, of which Engelbert was governor, was only
a portion of the dominions of the Duke of Burgundy,
which, in the time of Philip and Charles, comprehended
nearly all the countries which we now know as Holland
and Belgium. Brabant is distinguished into North and
South, of which North Brabant belongs to Holland,
and South Brabant to Belgium. Breda is in North
Brabant. It is ‘‘a well-built and strongly fortified
town, surrounded by marshes, which, in case of attack,
can be laid under water. The castle, which is the prin-
cipal building in the town, is surrounded by the river
Merk. It was originally built by the family of Schoten,
who held it with the title of Baron,in 1190. Breda
afterwards came into the possession of the dukes of
Brabant, and in the beginning of the fifteenth century it
passed by marriage to the House of Nassau. In 1567
it was annexed by the Duke of Alba to the crown of
Spain. In 1577 the Spanish garrison surrendered
to the confederates. Four years after, the town was
treasonably delivered to the Duke of Parma; but it was
retaken in March, 1590, by Prince Maurice of Nassau,
by means of the following stratagem :—A vessel was
loaded, apparently with turf, of which the besieged
garrison was greatly in want, but under the covering
of turf a party of soldiers were concealed. Admission
into the town being thus secured, the soldiers left their
place of concealment during the night; and having
overpowered the guard, opened the gates to Prince
Maurice, who had advanced with his army. In 1625
Breda yielded by capitulation to General Spinola, who
commanded the troops of the Infanta Isabella. In 1637
the town again came into the possession of the States
General of the United Provinces, and was confirmed to
them by the treaty of Westphalia. The French, under
Dumourier, took Breda in 1793.
“ The castle, already mentioned, was rebuilt in 1680
by William, Prince of Orange, afterwards William III.
of England. It contains a fine gallery, supported by
marble columns, and a very handsome staircase of free-
stone.
‘<The streets are wide, clean, and well laid out: there
are four squares and a fine quay, which, as well as the
rainparts, are planted with trees. The arsenal and the
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
[SerremMBer 16,
vreat market-place are among the chief ornaments of
the town*.”
The principal Protestant church of Breda, which con-
tains the tomb of Engelbert, was originally the church
of Our Lady (Notre Dame), but was appropriated in
1637, by the States General, to the use of the Protestant
worship. It has a spire 362 feet high, which replaced
one, said to have been exceedingly beautiful, con-
sumed by fire in 1696. ‘There are several fine monu-
ments in the church; that to the memory of Engel-
bert, and his wife, the Princess of Baden, of which we
have given a representation, is the most remarkable.
The effigies of the count and his wife are in alabaster :
the half-kneeling figures, supporting the table on which
lies the armour of the count, minutely carved, are said
to represent classic heroes—J nlius Cesar, Regulus, &c.
The figures are stated to lave been the work of Michael
Angelo, and there is little doubt of the correctness of
the statement. The traditionary supposition is at least
a testimony to the merit of the workmanship, which is
in the highest style of art.
VISIT TO THE CAVERN OF CARIPE, IN THE
PROVINCE OF CUMANA,
CoMMONLY KNOWN BY THE NAME OF “ La GRUTA DEL
GUACHARO.”
THE high price at which the published portion of Hum-
boldt’s narrative of his travels in equinoctial America
has alone been attainable by the public, together with
the introduction of numberless disquisitions on matters
which, however important to the scientific, have but
little interest for the general reader, has not improbably
prevented numbers from even knowing that such a stu-
pendous grotto as that which presents itself in the lofty
mountain of Guacharo, at the termination of a lateral
valley, three short leagues to the west-south-west of the
lovely valley of Caripe, to the east of Cumana, is to be
found in nature; or that in the vastness of its dimen-
sions, the picturesque magnificence of its scenery, the
depth to which it penetrates into the heart of the moun-
tain, the solemn darkness and silence of its innermost
recesses, the singular nocturnal birds which inhabit
what may be termed its central region, and whose fat
affords so rich an annual harvest to the Indians, and,
above all, the gloomy mystery in which Indian super-
stition has shrouded it, is perhaps unequalled, and cer-
tainly not surpassed, by any known cavern in the world;
not even excepting our own justly celebrated Cave of
Fingal, in the island of Staffa. ‘To such the follow-
ing account of a visit to this natural prodiey by
Sefor Codazzi, translated from the ‘ Coreo de Cumana,
for the 24th and 3lst of March, and 7th of April,
1835, can hardly fail to prove interesting’; while
even many of those who have read Humboldt’s fas-
cinatinge and almost poetic narrative, will perhaps feel
a Jaudable curiosity to learn the discoveries of a traveller,
who, however inferior to the distinguished philosopher
in his talents for ohservation, and his powers of de-
scription, possesses at least the merit of having traversed
the cavern to double the distance to which the Prussian
visiter was able to penetrate, and explored the whole of
the cavern to its utmost practicable extent. It is to be
regretted that Sefor Codazzi did not unite an acquaint-
ance with botany, ornithology, and many other branches
of natural history, highly important for a traveller, to
his other acquisitions, since, from the want of this
knowledge, he has been obliged to employ local names,
which can only be understood by those on the spot,
when speaking of the various objects he has occasion to
describe, and applies European names to plants, &c.,,
which can hardly be supposed to be identical with those
to which he refers them. Thus, in speaking of the pro- |
ductions of the valley of Caripe, he introduces chamomile
* ¢ Penny Cyclopedia,’ vol. v.
1937.
(anthemis nobilis), borage (borago officinalis), and the
yerva buena, which we believe is designed to mean
salad in general, as indigenous, or at least wild pro-
ductions of the soil; although there can be little doubt
that the Spanish names are applied to plants bearing
only a faint resemblance to the European, and differing
widely from them in all their important particulars.
But these are minor blemishes, which do not materially
affect the value of the narrative, or lessen its interest to
the general reader.
“The little village of Caripe is situated in 10°11’ 14”
of north latitude, and 3° 3’ 45” of longitude, to the east
of the meridian of Caraccas, in a little valley formed by
the waters of the river Caripe, in their passage from the
heiehts of Purgatorio, Guacharo, Periquito, the table-
land of the Guardia de San Augustin, and the peaks of
Caripe. Its elevation above the level of the sea is
96] varas (2636 Enelish feet), and it enjoys a genial
temperature both in summer and winter, the centesimal
thermometer, at both these seasons, maintaining itself
between 18° and 20° (between 60°.40 and 68° of Fah-
renheit’s scale).
“Chamomile (manzanilia), borage (borrajo), salad
(yerva buena), and tobacco (el tabac), grow wild in this
spot, which also produces beautiful cabbages, earlic, fen-
nel, and onions in abundance, together with coffee of the
most exquisite flavour. All that is wanting to convert
this rich and fertile valley from its present worthless
and neglected condition to a fine and flourishing settle-
ment, is the substitution of an active and industrious
Creole population for the indolent and apathetic native
Indians, of the tribe of Chaymas, who alone inhabit it,
and who, notwithstanding the labours of the mission-
aries, have been unable to divest themselves sufficiently
of their Indian disposition (destndiantzarse) to acquire
a more energetic character, and overcome that inflexible
apathy which is the besetting sin of their nature, and
opposes all impassable obstacle to their participating in
the advantages of the general prosperity.
“The village consists of some twenty straw huts, a
church, constructed of stone and lime, and two long
rows of connected cottages, of an uniform height, roofed
with tiles, and formerly serving as dwellings for the
Arragonese capuchins, who were employed as mission-
aries to reclaim the Indians from their wandering life
in the forests.
‘<The ancient convent in which these missionaries for-
merly performed their religious observances has been
unhappily destroyed, and its ruined walls alone remain
to mark the spot on which it stood, embosomed in
scenery of the most romantic and picturesque descrip-
tion.
““ The little river Caripe, from which the valley derives
its name, winds through a wooded defile from the west
towards the north-east, shaded by lofty and umbrageous
trees, and forming a longitudinal furrow in the direction
by which it hastens onwards to mingle its waters with
those of the Rio San Juan, in union with which they
fall at leneth into the tranquil basin of the Golfo Triste.
To the north it is bounded by the heights of San Boni-
facio, which unite with those of Guacarapo, clothed
with the densest primeval forests. To the west it is
encompassed by the table-land of the Guarda de San
Augustin, and the elevated ridge of Guacharo, over-
topped by the naked peak of El Purgatorio, which
attains an elevation of 1852 varas (equal to about
5081 English feet), rising out of the thick and lux-
uriant forest which stretches in the direction of Santa
Maria, to a spot opposite to some insulated conical
rocks, which are at times inaccessible, and fori the
water-shed which divides this valley from that in which
those streams run which flow to the southward to
mingle their waters with those which fall into the Rio
Guarapiche.
We arrived at this port (Cumana) on the lst of
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
355
February, 1835, and devoted the 2nd to making pre-
liminary observations, while a dozen of Indians were
despatched to the foot of El Purgatorio, to cut down
the palms known by the name of ‘ palmiste,’ which
were to serve as materials for making the torches which
we might require to illuminate the cavern we were about
to visit.
‘The palm attains a height of about twenty feet: its
leaves (fronds) resemble those of the Corozo, while its
bark is smooth like that of the Cahabrava, and wholly
destitute of spines: it exhibits, however, an infinite
number of knots, which, nevertheless, do not inter-
pose themselves in a vertical direction (at right angles)
to that of the internal fibres of the trunk, which is
straight.
** When the palms are required for the ptirpose of
making torches, the Indians select those which are from
three to four inches in diameter. These they cut down
aud strip of their bark; they then split the heart down,
in the direction of the fibres, into splinters of from two
to three varas in length (or from about 54 to 84 Eng-
lish feet), and about half an inch in thickness.
‘“¢ Having made this preliminary preparation, a num-
ber of fires are kindled at the mouth of the cavern; the
splinters are next placed on sticks, supported at either
extremity by forked uprights fixed in the ground, and
thus exposed to the action of the heat for the purpose
of expelling their moisture; here they are left for about
twenty-four hours or less; by the expiration of which
time they are sufficiently dry. When this part of the
process has been completed, the dried splinters are next
formed into torches of about six inches in diameter, and
of the entire leneth of the pieces, and firmly bound
towether by four or five bands of the withies or vines
which grow in the forest.”
A torch of this description lasted within the cavern
about one hour, giving out a brilliant flame, unaccom-
panied by any offensive odour, but not without pro-
ducing the smoke inseparable from the combustion of
wood of any description. Humboldt informs us that
the celebrated Bishop of St. Thomas, of Guayana, who
penetrated 960 varas, or 2500 (French) feet into the
recesses of the cavern, was enabled to do so by having
had the precaution to supply himself with great torches
of white wax of Castile; while he himself was only
furnished with torches made of the bark of trees and
native resin, the thick smoke of which injured their
eyes, and obstructed their respiration in the more con-
fined parts of the cavern, and thus contributed to pre-
vent them from penetrating as far as they might other-
wise have done. It is somewhat singular that the good
fathers of the convent were not acquainted with the su-
periority of the torches described by Sehor Codazzi *.
* On the 3rd of February we commenced our journey
to the cavern. Rain had fallen during the preceding
night, and the sky continued overcast, accompanied by
a small rain, which increased as we advanced, until at
length it became a heavy and a soaking rain. The
leneth of the road was two Columbian leagues to the
westward; it followed the base of the Carro de Gua-
charo, along a level tract. We crossed the stream
which descends from these heights three tlines: this
brook only approaches the cavern at the spot where the
basin in which it flows becomes contracted between the
bases of El Guacharo and Periquito. The road is
much encumbered with rocks and bushes which obstruct
and render it difficult for travellers. Suddenly the
opening of the great cavern burst in all its grandeur
upon our view, together with the Indians whom we had
sent on before to prepare the torches, and who had
taken up their quarters within its mouth.
We alighted from our beasts well soaked with rain,
and took out the instruments with which we had pro-
vided ourselves. These consisted of a thermometer, 4
* See ‘Pers, Narr, vols ul.) p. 136.
iain 222
256 THE PENNY
compass, a sextant with a tripod, an artificial horizon,
chronometers, and a barometer. We extended a cord
of twenty-five varas (equal to 68.4373 English feet),
well marked, and then hastened to enter the cavern,
which I am about to describe, and ascertain its dimen-
sions. We made our entrance into the cavern at half-
past eight in the morning, and quitted it again, after
having completed our survey, at a quarter past eleven,
well soaked through with the water which flows through
it. ‘This subterraneous rivulet,’ as Humboldt informs
us, ‘is the origin of the river Carpe, which, at a few
leagues’ distance, after having Joined the small river of
Santa Maria, is navigable for canoes. It enters into
the river Areo under the name of Canno de Terezen.
We found on the banks of the subterraneous rivulet
a ereat quantity of palm-tree wood, the remains of
trunks on which the Indians climb to reach the nests
hanging to the roof of the cavern. ‘The rings, formed
by the vestiges of the old footstalks of the leaves, fur-
nish as it were the footsteps of a ladder perpendicularly
placed*.’ While waiting for our clothes to be dried, I
wrapped myself up in a cloak, and proceeded at noon to
take an observation of the sun at the mouth of the
cavern, for the purpose of determining its latitude,
longitude, and elevation. _
‘* "he cavern of Guacharo is in the mountain of the
same name, at an elevation of 1739 varas (equal to
about 47714 English feet), above the level of the sea.
It is formed in a rock of secondary limestone, alter-
nating with an argillaceous clay, and the Jura or Al-
pine limestone. Its exterior form is rounded at the
base: its northern side rests upon the table-land of
the Guardia de San Augustin, connected on the north-
west by a gloomy mountain with the Cerra del Pnrea-
torio, while to the south it presents a steep and rocky
base. From thence, for the space of two-thirds of its
height, the mountain presents one vast unbroken mass
clothed with grass, and exhibiting in its outline a form
similar to that of its base. It lias various projections
and precipitous declivities, nearly perpendicular, va-
nously disposed, parallel or diverging; while its sum-
mit displays a rocky ridge, naked to the west aud south,
and covered with bushes on the opposite side. If vast
caverns are characteristic of calcareous mountains in
general, we cannot be surprised at the existence of this
eigantic cavern in a district of such a description.
‘The mouth of the cavern looks to the S.S.W., and
the direction it takes is to the N.N.E. <A stream issues
from the cavern, and flows in front of its mouth, through
the underwood that clothes the base of Periquito, until
it falls into another stream which descends from E] Pur- |
gatonio, and, with the former, constitute the two prin-
cipal heads of the Rio Caripe.” The stream which issues
from the cavern is far more considerable than Seitor
Codazzi’s account would lead us to suppose, being, as
Humboldt informs us, from twenty-eight to thirty feet
wide. *We walked,’ he continues, ‘on the bank,
as far as the hills formed of calcareous incrustations
pernntted us. Where the torrent winds among very
high masses of stalactites, we were often obliged to
descend into its bed, which is only two feet in depth.’
“The form of the caveru represents a segment of an
arch, whose western base rests on the stream which
issues from it, at a place where its centre spans a mass
of petrifactions, resembling innumerable caves heaped
one upon another in the form of an amphitheatre, and
sinks almost perpendicularly towards the principal plain,
which is perfectly smooth, moist, and clothed with a mul-
titude of herbaceous plants, which grow alone the mare@in
of the water, while others are to be seen flourishing in
the soil which covers the calcareous incrustations.
‘* Vast stalactites, of unkuown antiquity, varying in
leneth from twelve to fourteen feet, and from three to
four in thickness, hang suspended from the arch, mixed
* ¢ Pers, Narr.,’ yol, iti, p.» 131,
MAGAZINE: [SepremBer 16,
with others of smaller dimensions, and every possible
variety of form ; some pointed, others oval, rounded in
some places, and wrought in others with such refined
elegance of taste, as to resemble rather the most perfect
productions of design than the mere wanton and ca-
pricious results of accidental petrifaction.
‘“ At the distance of 115 varas (equal to about 315
Iinglish feet).from the mouth of the cavern, we crossed
the rivulet for the first time, aud found its bottom
somewhat miry. Hitherto we had carried but a single
liehted torch; but on reaching to the distance of 175
varas (about 480 Enelish feet), we found the dark-
ness so much increased as to render no less than five.
necessary to enable us to see one another; while the
harsh screaming of the Guacharoes, in the more retired
parts of the interior, disturbed our hearing, and inter-
rupted conversation.
‘A large mass of incrustations here divided thus first.
saloon in the middle; the rivulet was crossed a second
time, leaving on the left hand a second compartment
of the cavern, corresponding in every point of resem-
blance_to the first. Here at length vegetation ceased
to exist; and the ground was strewed with the decayed
remains of the fruit called Mataca, which constitute the
food of the Guacharoes. This fruit, which is of a rose
colour, grows on a straight and lofty tree, which is
found in abundance on the heights in the vicinity of
the cavern. As soon as Night has spread her sable veil
over creation, these birds immediately take their flight
from the dark recesses of their gloomy habitation, in
quest of this fruit, which they carry baek to their nests
for the sustenance of their young. The birds, having
digested the fleshy part of the fruit, reject the stone,
which being divided into two equal portions, and
having undergone this digestive preparation, is supposed
to have obtained immediately from this process valnable
medicinal properties ; and it in consequelce enjoys no
small reputation as a sovereion remedy for the cure of
pains in the stomach, spasms, colic, and intermittent
fevers. The Indians collect them at the proper season,
string them, and hang them up in their kitchens, be-,
cause when smoked they dry quickly, without losing
their medicinal properties. ‘The ordinary dose is two
or three of the dried sceds, either cliewed in the mouth,
or reduced to powder and taken mixed with tepid
water.”
(‘To be continued.]
—-
lorests, and Meadow and Pasture Land in Europe.-—
‘La Statistique, a lrench periodical devoted to the collec-
tion of interesting facts, contains details relative to the ex-
tent of surface covered by forests, and meadows and pastures, |
in the different countries of Europe; from which it appears
that in Germany, Sweden, Norway, Russia, Bohemia, aud
Gallicia, the proportion of forests to the territory of cach °
country is one-third; in Austria, Prussia, and Illyria, it is‘
one-fourth; 1n Belgium and the States of Sardinia, one-
fifth ; 1m Switzerland, one-sixth; in the Netherlands, one-
seventh; in Trance, one-eighth; in Italy, one-ninth; in
Spain, one-tenth; and in Great Britain the proportion of
forest and woodland is one-twentieth. The land in meadow
and pasture is, according to the same authority, in the pro-
portion of one-half to the remainder of the surface, in Ene-
land and Wales; one-third in Great Britain and the British
Isles, Denmark, Bavaria, and the Duchy of Brunswick ; one-
fourth in Austria Proper, the continental States of Sardinia,
Styria and Illyria; one-fifth in Prussia, Hungary, Holland,
and Belgium ; one-sixth in Switzerland, Bohemia, and the
Austrian Empire; one-seventh in France, Italy, Scotland,
Wurtemburg, and the Duchy of Baden; one-eighth in the
Duchy of Hesse-Cassel; one-ninth in Moravia and the
Duchy of Nassau; one-tenth in the kingdom of the Two
Sicilies, Portugal, and Sardinia; one-eleventh in Gallicia,
Lombardy, and the Venetian Provinces ; one-twelfth in the
Tyrol; one-fortieth in Turkey in Europe; one-fifty-sixth
in Russia in Kurope; and in Spain the proportion is as low.
as one sixty-fifth of meadow and pasture land to the remain-
ing surface of the country,
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1837.]
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THE SKUNK.
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THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
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{The Skunk. }
AMongG the smaller Carnivora, there is a genus, termed
by Cuvier Mephitis, which contains a group of animals
neculiar to the American continent, and to which have
been applied the terms of Skunks, and Mephitic Weasels,
from their intolerable odour, It is on the same account
that they have received from the French the names of
Enfans du diable, and Béles puantes; and they are so
designated in the ‘ Histoire de la Nouvelle France,’ by
Charlevoix. (See tome ii.) Buffon, however, and the
French naturalists, give them the title of Mouffetles,
because “ they spread, when disturbed, an odour so
strong and so abominable, as to prodnce suffocation,
like the subterranean gas called snouffelte.” ‘The term
mephitis conveys the same idea. It is in the odour
they are capable of spreading, intolerable alike to man
and beast, that the main defence of these animals con-
sists; for they are heavily made for their size, and not
remarkable for celerity of motion. The peculiarity of
secreting, in certain glandular pouches beneath the tail,
a liquid extremely odorous, is common to many of the
viverrine family, as the civet, zibet, &c., and also to
most of the Mustellide@, as the polecat, &c. ; but it differs
much in intensity, and in the effect it produces on the ol-
factory organs, in different species. ‘The secretion of the
civet (of a powerful musky odour), thongh disagreeable
when unmixed with other articles, is pleasant, at least
to some persons, when much diluted: on the contrary,
the odour of the common polecat is universally abhorred.
We must not suppose that in every case the liquid
secreted constitutes a means of defence; indeed its use
is not correctly understood, nor shall we here enter into
conjectures respecting it. It may be observed, however,
that the elandular apparatus in question differs materi-
ally in different species in its degree of development,
us does also the quantity, as well as the quality, of the
secretion: in some, this apparatus consists of large
elandular sacculi,—in others it 1s reduced to a simple
fold of the skin,—and in others all trace of it is want-
ing. There is no uniformity in this point among genera
otherwise closely allied. With regard to the genus
Mephitis, it approximates in many particulars to the
badgers (gen. Meles), also distinguished by glandular
scent-pouches; and though Cuvier places the genus
Mephitis between the weasels and the otters, he was
not unaware of the connexion. ‘The Mouffettes have,”
he observes, ‘‘ like the polecats, two false molars above
and three below (on each side); but the upper tuber-.
cular tooth is very large, and as long as broad; and the
lower carnassiére (or laniary molar) has two tubercles
on its Inner aspect, which circumstances ally these
animals to the badgers, as the polecats are allied to
the grisons (Galictis, Bell), and the eluttons (Guo).
Moreover, the skunks, like the badgers, have the claws |
of the fore-feet long, and adapted for burrowing, and
they are also semiplantigrade; the resemblance is car-
ried out even as regards the distribution of colours.”
The colours of the animals of the genus Mephitis
consist for the most part of dorsal or lateral stripes of
white on a black ground, the effect of which is far from
being unpleasing: the limbs and under parts of, the
body are always black. ‘The fur is full and long, con-
sisting of a soft under coat, and harsh hairs forming an
outer vestinent. The tail is long and bushy; the limbs
are short and stout; the head is rather small, and ter-
minates in a pointed muzzle: the ears are extensive,
but close. ‘he coutour of the body is thick and heavy ;
and the movements of the animals have not much of
alertness or activity. In this respect the skunks differ
from the polecat and weasel race, as well as in being
less sanguinary and daring. Nevertheless, they make
havoc occasionally in the ponltry-yard. Their habits
are nocturnal; and their retreat, in which they pass the
358
day, is usually a burrow of their own excavating, or the
hollow of an aged tree. ‘The species are in great con-
fusion, owing to variations in the arrangement and
proportions of the white stripes, in different individuals
supposed to be specifically identical. Hence some
authors regard the chinche and the conepate of Buffon
as mere varieties of the Mephitis Americana, Desm. ;
while others consider the conepate to be synonymous
with the M. chiliensis, Geoffr. We must not, how-
ever, enter into a question of this nature; and, indeed,
as the habits of all the species or varieties are alike, it
is not necessary that we should be particular in singling
out any one, to the exciusion of the others, as the object
of our notice.
The description of the skunk by Kalm is worthy of
attention. ‘* The English,” he says, “ give the name
of polecat to a species of animal found plentifully not
only in Pennsylvania, but in other districts both north-
wards and southwards in America. At New York it is
called Skunk, but the Swedes in this country term it
Fiskatte. 'This animal has much resemblance to the
inarten: it is about the same size, and usually of a
black colour, with a white longitudinal streak on the
back, and oue of the same colour and size on each side:
some individuals occur, but rarely, which are almost
wholly white.” “ This animal brings forth its
young both in the hollows of trees and in burrows: it
is not confined to the eround, but climbs trees; it
is an enemy to birds; it destroys their eggs, and also
devours their youne, and when it can enter the poultry
roost, it makes reat destruction.’ . . . . “* When it
is chased either by men or dogs, it runs as far as it
can, or climbs up a tree; but when it finds itself hard
pressed, it ejects its fluid against it pursuers: the odour
of this is so strong as to suffocate: if a drop of this
pestilential secretion falls in the eyes, it 1s at the risk of
losing the sight; and when it falls on the clothes, it
communicates an odour so powerful, that it is very dif-
ficult to wet rid of it: most dogs fear to attack it, and
flee when touched by a drop.” . . . ‘In 1749 one of
these animals came, near a farm, where I was lodging ;
if was In winter, and during the night; the dogs were
roused up, and pursued it, when it immediately spread
so diseusting an odour, that I thought as [ lay in bed
that I should be suffocated ; the cows bellowed witli all
their might.” . ‘At the end of the same year
another crept into our cellar, but without spreading the
slivhtest odour, for this odour Is not given out unless
the animai be chased or attacked. A woman who per-
ceived its eyes sparkling in the dark killed it, and in an
instant it filled the cellar with such an odour, that not
only was the woman ill froin the effects of it for some
days, but the bread, the meat, and the rest of the pro-
visions kept in the cellar were so infected, that all were
spoiled and obliged to be thrown away.” Kalm, how-
ever, observes, that the settlers, as well as the natives,
sometimes tame the skunk, and that the pestilential
secretion 1s then but rarely given out, and only when
the animal ts attacked or beaten. He adds, moreover,
** T have often met with Ennelish and French, who have
told me that they have eaten the flesh of this animal, and
have found it well flavoured, and, as they stated, some-
thing like that of a sucking-pig*.” It appears that the
moment the natives kill a skunk they remove the glan-
dular sacculi, and parts adjacent, in order that no un-
pleasant smell or flavour may be communicated to thre
flesh. In the Journal of P. Feuillée (Paris, 1714) we
are informed that this animal is called chinche, by the
natives of Brazil, and the writer gives an excellent
description of it. “It takes up its residence,’ he
observes, “in the ground hike our rabbits, but its
burrow is not so deep .. . it is very fond of birds
* See also some anecdotes of this animal given in the ‘ Penny
Magazine, No. 277,
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
{SEPTEMBER 16,
and poultry:” to this he adds that he had the utmost
difficulty in freeing his dress from the odour of one of
these animals, which was done only by frequent wash-
ing, soaking, and exposure to the sun. He states also
that (as he was told) the offensive fluid is poured out
upon the tail, which serves asa brush to disperse it
about, and whisk it against aggressors, whom the horrid
scent immediately puts to flight. Catesby, in his‘ Natural
History of Carolina,’ says, that when one of these ani-
mals is attacked by a dog, in order to appear more
terrible it effects so marked a change in its figure by
bristling up its hairs, and swelling out its body until it
becomes almost round, as to appear strange, and at the
same time frightful. If, however, this menacing air
does not suffice to terrify its adversary, it employs, as a
means of repulse, a much more efficacious method;
for it ejects through some secret channels so pestilential
an odour as to poison thie air for a great distance around
it; and that it is even unsupportable to dogs, who
either retreat, or, if spirited enough to persevere, press
their nose into the ground, renewing the attack at
intervals until they have despatched the animal. The
Indians, however, eat the flesh, and regard it as a deli-
cacy; and Catesby states that he has also partaken of
it, and found it good. The young are sometimes, as
he says, taken and tained, and become gentle and very
lively, causing no annoyance unless forced, in order to
preserve their life. Insects and wild fruit he notices as
constituting the diet of the skunk, which, as he says, is
spread over the greater part of North America, the hollows
of trees, and the holes of rocks serving it as a retreat.
Though we have no doubt the scent of the skunk is
disgusting enough, we have reason to believe that its
overwhelining effects have been much exaggerated.
Audubon tells an amusing story of a gentleman (a
foreigner) who travelled in company with him from
Louisiana to Henderson, mistaking one of these ani-
mals, which they met with on the road, for a squirrel ;
aud attempting to secure it, when, raising “its fine
bushy tail, it showered such a discharge of the fluid
given by nature as a defence, that my friend, dismayed
and infuriated, began to belabour the poor aniinal.
The swiftness and good management of the polecat,
however, saved its bones; and, as it made good its re-
treat towards its hole, it kept up at every step a con-
tinual ejectment, which fully convinced the eentleman
that the pursuit of such animals as these was at best au
unprofitable employment. This was not all, however.
I could not suffer his approach, nor could my horse :
it was with difficulty he mounted his own, and we were
forced to continue our journey far asunder, and he
much to leeward.” A cloak, which received the fluid
in most abundance, continued a source of sad annoy-
ance. While frozen (for it was winter) it did not give
out any odour, but when thawed, or brought near the
fire, it was intolerable. Some years afterwards, says
Audubon, “*I met my Kentucky companion in a far-
distant land, when he assured me that, whenever the
sun shone on his cloak, or it was brought near a fire,
the scent of the polecat became so perceptible, that he
at last gave it to a poor monk in Italy.”
Lhe following is Audubon’s description of the skunk
or polecat, which is worth our notice, as written by a
practical naturalist :—The animal “is abont a foot and
a half in length, with a large bushy tail, nearly as lone
as the body. The colour is generally brownish black,
with a large white patch on the back of the head; but
there are many varieties of colouring, in some of which
the broad white hands of the back are very conspicuous.
The polecat burrows, or forms a subterranean habitation
amone the roots of trees, or in rocky places. It feeds
on birds, young hares, rats, mice, and other animals,
and commits great depredations on poultry. 'The most
remarkable peculiarity of this animal is the power of
1837.]
squirting, for its defence, a most nauseously-scented
fluid, contained in a receptacle situated under the tail,
which it can do to the distance of several yards. It
does not, however, for this purpose, sprinkle its tail
with the fluid, as some allege, unless when extremely
harassed by its enemies. The polecat is frequently do-
mesticated. The removal of the glands prevents the
secretion of the nauseous fluid ; and when thus improved,
the animal becomes a great favourite, and performs the
offices of the common cat with great dexterity.”
Consumption of Eggs.—tiIn the ‘Penny Magazine, No.
319, there is a notice of the commerce in eggs, which, as in
many other articles insignificant in themselves, is of consi-
derable importance in the aggregate. The following state-
ments from a paper by M. Legrand, a member of the French
Statistical Society, on the production and consumption of
eggs in France, and their exportation from that country,
may be read in connexion with the previous notice in the
above-mentioned Number of the ‘Penny Magazine :’—“ In
1813,” M. Legrand says, ‘‘ the number of eggs exported
from France was 1.754,140. Between 1816 and 1822 the
numbers exported rose rapidly from 8,733,000 to.55,717,500,
and in 1834 the number had increased to 90,441,600. In
1835, 76,190,120 were exported for, England, 60,800 for |
Belgium, 49,696 for the United States, 42,960 for Switzer-
land, 34,800 for Spain, and 306,304 to other parts of the
world. The total amount of the exportations for that year
was 3,829,284 francs. The consumption in Paris is calcu-
lated at 1153 eggs per head, or 101,152,400. The con-
sumption in other parts of France may be reckoned at
double this rate, as in many parts of the country dishes
composed of eggs and milk are the principal items in all
the meals. The consumption of eggs for the whole king-
dom, including the capital, is estimated at 7,231,160,000;
add to this number those exported and those necessary for
reproduction, and it will result that 7,380,925,000 eggs
were laid in France during the year 1835.”
Karly History of Bookselling.—The trade of bookselling
seems to have been established at Paris, and at Bologna, in
the twelith century: the lawyers and universities called it
into life. Itis very improbable that it existed in what we
properly call the dark ages. Peter of Blois mentions a book
which he had bought of a public dealer (@ quodam publico
mangone librorum). But we do not find, I believe, many
distinct accounts of them till the next age. These dealers
were denominated “ statvonarii;” perhaps from the open
stalls at which they carried on their business; though
statio is a general word for a shop in low Latin. They
appear, by the old statutes of the university of Paris, and
by those of Bologna, to have sold books upon commission ;
and are sometimes, though not uniformly, distinguished
from the librarz2, a word which, having originally been con-
fined to the copyists of books, was afterwards applied to
those who traded in them. They sold parchment, and other
materials of writing (which, with us, though, as far as I
know, nowhere else, have retained the name of stationery),
and naturally exercised the kindred occupations of binding
and decorating. They probably employed transcribers: we
find, at least, that there was a profession of copyists in the
universities, and in large cities; and by means of these,
before the invention of printing, the necessary books of
grammar, law, and theology, were multiplied to a great
extent, for the use of the students; but with much in-
correctness, and far more expense than afterwards. That
invention put a sudden stop to their honest occupation.
But whatever hatred they might feel towards the new art,
it was in vain to oppose its reception; no party could be
raised in the public against so manifest and unalloyed a
benefit; and the copyists, grown by habit fond of books,
frequently employed themselves in the somewhat kindred
labour of pressmen. The first printers were always book-
sellers, and sold their own impressions. These occupations
were not divided till the early part of the sixteenth century.
But the risks of sale, at a time when learning was by no
means general, combined with the great cost of production
(paper and other materials being very dear), rendered this a
hazardous trade.—Hallam’s ‘ Literature of Europe.’
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
359
Peasants in the Department of the Loire Inferieur.—
Very little butchers meat is consumed by the farmers or
their labourers. Their staple food is bread, of which a man
consumes about three pounds a day. In the summer they
generally eat four or five times a day, of soup made with
bread and cabbages, with fat or butter; sometimes a bit of
bacon. Onsome farms in brittany, butchers’ meat is given
on Sundays; other days, cabbage soup and bread and butter,
and latterly potatoes. On. other farms, pancakes made of
buckwheat are served to the labourers; but the farmers,
Within these three or four years, have turned their attention
to the planting of potatoes, in which they find a great ad-
vantage over the buckwheat cakes. The quantity of land
planted with potatoes since 1830 has been doubled each
year. In some parts of La Vendée, the mechanics and
peasants use millet in lieu of buckwheat; but there also
the farmers begin to understand the value of potatoes. The
women work on some farms. In Brittany they sometimes
sow the corn: but in general they are occupied in the house,
excepting those who have to attend the cattle, particularly
the cows: they take with them their distaff or their knitting,
by which means they prepare a considerable quantity of the
clothing requisite for the use of the family from the flax
raised upon the premises. Paupers are very numerous in
the winter: there are no provisions for their support in the
country. In some towns there are poor-houses, which are
kept up by private donations, as may be required; by the pro-
ceeds of concerts, balls, and representations at the theatres,
and collections made at each house by persons authorised
by the mayor, to be paid to a board appomted by him and
the council to distribute the money to those in need of relief.
In the country they maintain themselves by begging, if
work be not provided for them ; but in general, as labourers
are scarce, work is found for a considerable number of them
on the roads, paring hedges, or other labour required on
the farms. The farmers in general are poor: they occupy
such farms as are just sufficient to support their families by
the produce they can raise. They are, in this part of France,
an ignorant set; are badly clothed, badly fed, and miserably
| lodged in most instances, frequently sleeping in the same
apartment with their cattle. They are not in debt, nor
have they any money to spare, and appear contented to
move on as their fathers have done, without any desire, or,
at all events, without any exertion to improve their cireum-
stances.—Answer to Queries to his Majesty's Consuls.—
Parliamentary Paper.
IMPLEMENTS OF WRITING IN THE EAST.
Ir is still the custom in the East, as it was in Biblical
times, to carry the inkhorn stuck in the girdle. The
Editor of the ‘ Pictorial Bible,’ in commenting on an
expression in the ninth chapter of Ezekiel (“‘ One man
among them was clothed with linen, with a writer’s
inkhorn by his side”), says—‘* Scribes carry them con-
stantly in their girdles, and ministers of state wear them
in the same manner as symbols of their office. The
form of these receptacles is adapted to this custom, as
will appear by our present engraving. ‘That in most
general use is a flat case, about nine inches long by an
inch and a quarter broad and half an inch thick, the
hollow of which serves to contain the reed pens and
penknife. It is furnished at one end with a lid attached
by a hinge. ‘To the flat side of this shaft, at the end
furnished with the lid, is soldered the ink-vessel, which
has at the top a lid with a hinge and clasp, fitting very
closely. The ink-vessel is usually twice as heavy as the
shaft. The latter is passed through the girdle, and is
prevented from slipping through by the projecting ink-
vessel. The whole is usually of polished metal, brass,
copper, or silver. ‘lhe case for pens and ink is worn
in the same manner by the Persians, but it is very dif-
ferent in its form and appearance. It is a long case,
eizht or nine inches long, by about one and a half
broad, and rather less in depth, rounded at each end.
It is made of paper, stiff as board, and the whole ex-
terior is japanned and covered with richly coloured
360
drawings. This case contains another, which fits it
exactly, and may be considered as a long drawer: it 1s
of course uncovered at top, and slips “into the outer
case at one end, so that it can be easily drawn out,
wholly or partially, to give access to the contents.
P ' i iT .
shit uN AA MATE DE
e iu | hia nf WLS f AAT ey bd le i! t
ry bite lina | tt Malay 4 Mirhi? p 4
Gitgprent berg yh AALS MSHS Rett HTL eae
| ’ isa hh . f
Rabat Ja ee ade i
[Modern Egyptian Writing Case and Instruments. |
These are shown in our engraving, and furnish an
interesting exhibition of the “utensils required by an
Oriental writer. First there is the inkstand, which is
so put into the case that it is.the tirst thing that offers
when the drawer is pulled out. It is of brass or silver,
the npper surface being sometimes ornamented with
mother-of-pearl and other materials ; and 1s sometimes
furnished with’ a small magnetic needle (as in our
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
[SepremBer 16, 1637.
specimen), under a glass, to enable the proprietor to
find the direction of Mecca when he prays. ‘Then there
is a little spoon, rrom which water is dropped into the
inkstand, for the-purpose of diluting the ink when be-
come too thick or dry. ‘The case also usually contains
four or five pens of reed, whence the whwie is called a
‘pencase,’ rather than an ‘inkstand.’ As these pens
are tuo thick-pointed to be nibbed on the nail, after our
fashion with quill-pens, a thin piece of horn is provided,
on which the pen is laid for the purpose. These are
the more essential articles, but often a small whetstone
is added, and also a pair of scissors for clipping paper.
The former we have given, but not the latter. Of these
two sorts of ‘inkhorns,’ so to call them, the first is
best adapted to be worn in the girdle; but the Persian
is certainly more light and elegant, and at least equally
convenient with reference to its proper use; but neither
of them are at all suited for such thin inks as we emy loy.
It may be difficult to say which of them the ‘ inkhorns’
of the Hebrews most resembled; but from its being
worn in the girdle it was doubtless something of the
same kind.’
: ae Tee i
i=
etl ; aie LA ty ah He a
rain a
=r
[Persian Instruments of Writing. ]
1. KalmdAn, or Case for Pen
In Jeremiah (chap. xxxvi. 18) the following expres-
sion occurs: ‘*‘ I wrote them with ink in a book.’ ‘The
comment on this expression in the ‘ Pictorial Bible’
as follows:—
‘* Some writers have doubted whether ink cau be in-
tended by the word here employed (4°74 deyo) ; and
Blayney, instead of ‘I wrote them with ink in a book,’
has, ‘ I wrote in a book after him.’ 'The Chaldee, Syriac,
aud Vulgate, however, agree with our version, which Is
also supported by the use of a similar word in Arabic
and Persian. . One objection supposes that ink was not
at this time known to the Jews, and that they exclusively
engraved their.writing upon tablets. But a kind of ink
is clearly mentioned even tn the time. of Moses (see
Num. v. 23, and the note there); and Ezekiel (ix. 2,
3, 11) repeatedly speaks of the ‘inkhorn’ which writers
employed. From the word (wéaAav), by which ‘ink’
is expressed in the New Testament, it appears that the
ink was usually black, as in other. nations.; but it
appears also that they had coloured inks; and Josephus
(‘ Antiq.’ xil. 2.) states that the seventy elders who made
the Greek translation brought from Jerusalem parch-
ments on which the law was written in letters of gold.
From the particulars collected by Winckelmann. and
others concerning the ink of the ancients, it would seem
that it differed very little from that which the Orientals
still employ; and which is really better adapted than
our own thin vitriolic inks to the formation of their
and Ink; 2 2,2. Parts of the same, separate;
5, Thin piece of Horn, ou which the Pen is mended ;
3. Spoon for watering the ink; 4. Pen, formed of a Reed;
6, Whetstone ; ae Ink-holder, with a compass.
written characters; and this is also true of the Hebrew,
the letters of which are more easily and properly formed
with this ink than with our own, and with reeds than with
quill pens. The ink is usually composed of lamp-black
or powdered charcoal, prepared with eum and water,
and sold in small particles or grains ‘like sunpowder.
The writer who wants to replenish his inkhorn puts
some of this into it, and adds-a little water, but not
enough to render the ink thinner than that of our
printers. Those who use much of it, work up the ink-
grains with water—much in the saine way that artists
prepare their colours, and then put it into their ink-
stand. In the manuscripts written with this ink the
characters appear of a most Intense and glossy black,
which never changes its hue, never eats into the paper,
nor ever becomes “indistinct or obliterated, except from
the action of water, by. which it is even more easily
spoiled than our own manuscripts. The Eastern scribes
also write in gold, and with inks of various brilliant
colours—particularly red and blue—their diversified ap-
plications of which often give a very rich and beantiful
appearance to the page, in the higher class of manu-
scripts. ‘These details respecting ‘modern Oriental Ink
will be found to agree remarkably with what has been
said concerning the ink of the ancients; and this con-
currence may be taken to furnish a very satisfactory
conclusion with regard to the ink or inks used by the
ancient Hebrews.”
*," The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at 59, Lincoln's [yn Fields,
LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGIIT & CO., 22, LUDGATE STREET,
a = =
Printed by WILLIAM CLoweEs and Sons, Stamford Street,
THE PENNY MAGAZIN
OF THE
Society for the Diffusion:iof Useful Knowledze.
ool.
PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY.
[SepremBER 23, 1837,
ROYAL EXCHANGE, GLASGOW.
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Very ereat changes and improvements have taken
place in Glasgow within the last ten years, all indi-
eative of commercial activity and prosperity *, New and
spacious streets have been formed, new and handsome
buildings have beeri erected, new bridges have been
thrown over the Clyde; and its river harbour, the
‘ Broomielaw,” has been so altered and extended, as
scarcely now to be recognised by the old men whose
memories and associations carry them back to a by-
eoneage. The “ west-end’’—for Glasgow, too, has its
‘¢ wesi-end ’—commonly designated the ‘‘ New Town,’
has increased largely. Merchants, quitting their occu-
pation of “ flats”—(a story of a house is a “ flat,”
and the successive flats of the old houses form, as in
Edinburgh, distinct residences, a stone staircase, ex-
* A general descrintion of Glasgow is given in vol. iv, of the
Penny Magazine.’
Vou. VI.
$
ze
a 2
[Glasgow Exchange. |
terior to the houses, being the common mode of access)
—have betaken themselves to what are known as “ self-
contained”’ houses, built after the English fashion,
each house intended for the residence of one family.
Thus, the New Town has spread westward, far away
from the “ Cross,’ and the ‘‘ Trongate,’ and the
‘ Tontine,’ where merchants were wont to congregate ;
and this, along with the want of adequate accommo-
dation, led to the erection of the handsome building,
the Exchange, a view of which is given above. :
A view of the exterior of the building called the
‘ Tontine ”—so called from having been built on the
Italian principle of subscription with benefit of survivor-
ship, is given at p. 381 of vol. iv. of the * Penny Maga-
zine. The lower portion forms a piazza, the upper a
handsome tavern and hotel. Under this piazza the
newsmongers and gossips of Glasgow used to meet, to
3A
362
talk of trade and commerce, of the weather, or of any-
thing strange. Behind the piazza is a subscription
coffee-house, having’ one large and lofty room, the
tables of which are strewed with newspapers; and up
and down which the subscribers—mostly merchants
and manufacturers—walk, discoursing of their pro-
spects or of a bargain. <A story is told of an accident
which happened in this spacious room. One day when
it was thronged, (subscribers could take in a friend
with them) a merchant eave an alarm that he had lost
his gold watch. Immediately the wary waiters closed
the doors, and shortly afterwards the watch, seals, and
all, were found hanging at the back of a worthy and
wealthy citizen, suspended from a button, while lie was
totally unconscious of the manner in which he was
decorated. Every body knew at once that the adroit
thief had palmed a joke on the honest man: but he
himself was in confnsion, and was anxious to ascertain
how it was possible his button could have hooked out
the watch, without either party feeling the jerk.
Considerable exciteinent and ill-feeling were created
when the project was fairly under weigh of carrying
the meeting-place of the merchants west, from the
Toutine to the building now erected at the head of
Queen Street. In all such cases there are rival inte-
rests. The foundation-stone of the Exchange was laid
with considerable ceremony in 1829, a number of the
priucipal merchants attending. Part of the site on
which the Exchange and other new buildings stand
was occupied by the theatre, a very large building, and
affirmed to have been one of the handsomest provincial
theatres in Britain. It was but badly patronized, except
Ou some rare occasions, when “stars” came down from
London, or any thing grand was to take place. An
necidental fire consumed it shortly after the foundations
of the Exchange had been laid, thus clearing it away
for the new project. The view given at the head of this
article will give an idea of the IXxchange. ‘The archi-
tect is Mr. Hamilton, of Glasgow. The portico which
fronts the east, facing Ingram Street, is 74 feet in
width and 27 deep; and the body of the building is
177 feet by 74. The principal room is spacious—93
feet by 62, and 36 high in the centre. In this the
merchants meet, as they used in the large room of the
‘Fontine Coffee House. But though the wealthier mer-
chants and manufacturers now frequent the Exchange,
the Tontine Coffee House is by no means abandoned.
{t has still about 400 or 500 annual subscribers, besides
casual monthly or quarterly subscribers—mostly of the
class of respectable shopkeepers, or stnaller merchants
aud dealers. Still there can be no doubt that, by the
erection of the Exchange, the old glory of the ‘Youtine
is eclipsed. ‘ihe portico of a newly-erected and nand-
some building for the Royal Bank faces the west front
of the IXxchange.
At the head of Qneen Street, a little distance from
the idxchange, stood an ancient honse, which was in-
habited by James Ewing, Esq., formerly M.P. and
Lord Provost of Glasgow. In front of it were suudry
trees, occupied by a rookerv. Mr. Ewing sedulously
protected his black neighbours, prohibiting all molesta-
tion of them: but the relentless spirit of improvement
has removed this old’ landmark; and Queen Street,
once a quiet sedate street, is now a busy and a splendid
place.
ao eR,
THE INDIAN SUMMER
Tur peculiar season known by this name is celebrated
in all books descriptive of American scenery and climate 5
but it is very little understood in Isneland. It is com-
monly supposed to be a return of bright sunny weather
after cold,—a renewal of the heats and lustre of July.
But it is not so, There is little beauty in the Indian
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
[SEPTEMBER 23,
suinmer; and if it came at any other time of year, it
would be thought nothing of. Its charm to the stranger
is in its singularity; to the native.in its affording a
renewal of country pleasures after the apparent setting
in of winter.
After having gone to sleep by the light of a comfort-
able chamber-fire, the stranger rises, on the first morn-
ing of the Indian summer, surprised at the warmth of
the room. On opening his window, the feel of the air
is delicious—still and warm, so that it is a luxury to
stand breathing it. If in a town, he sees the church
steeples hung with a soft, peculiar light, and the ex-
tremity of the street lost in a blueish mist. Jf in the
country, he observes that the sky.is cloudless and of
the palest blue. ‘The rivers seem to lie still while the
red sun-shine paints their reaches and turnings; the
rusty woods appear asleep, and are overhung with what
looks like alight blue smdke. This and the succeeding
mornings are the stillest of the year.
The apparent smokiness of the atmosphere has led
to mistakes about the origin of the Indiansummer. Its
causes remain obscure ; no plausible explanation having
been given of its occurring invariably, and always at
the same season, and disappearing at the end of about
three days. The supposition of early settlers was that
this warm dusky weather was caused by the fires lighted
by the Indians in their autumn huntings, or by the
forest conflagrations which they left behind them. But
this notion is now seen to be absurd, It is imprebable
enough that these fires should be lighted always at the
same season, and that their smoke should overspread
so large an extent of country at once, and for the space
of three or four days only. But, besides all this, there
is the fact that the Indian summer remains where there
are no longer any Indians, and where forest confla-
erations are limited and rare. It is to be hoped that
the causes will be discovered, throuwh the advance of
inetevrological science, before the phenomenon has dis-
appeared. It seems to be agreed that the occurrence
of this remarkable season is less distinct in the centre
of a widely cleared and settled tract of country than
in the wilderness; and than it was, within the memory
of living men, when the tract itself was a wilderness.
Whether it will wholly disappear, no one, in the present
ignorance of its nature, will venture to say.
My first experience of the Indian suiminer was truly
delicious. I had been compelled by stress of weather
to desist from an unprosperous voyage ou Lake Erie.
Wintry winds had chilled every one on board into a
state of despondency. ‘The gentleimnen were seen with
their hands in their pockets, and heard stamping the
deck with their feet all day long ; and the ladies huddled
together in the cabin. For three days the icy wind
blew strong; and at intervals, for sixty hours, our
captain put out from Erie harbour, on the Pennsylvania
shore, into the rough lake, and was as often obliged to
put back. ‘The majority of his passengers, emigrants
on their way to Michigan and Wiscousin, were coim-
pelled to wait the pleasure of the eleinents. Some few
others, and ] among them, were not. I gave up my
intention of proceeding to Detroit, and landed at Erie,
with an intense longing to sit beside a blazing fire.
Within a few hours I experienced an extraordinary
change. The Indian summer came on as I reached
Meadville, thirty-six miles from Erie. My companions
and [were out almost all day long, enjoying the last
mild weather of the year. It was balmy as the Enelish
May, and ruddy as October. The first morning we
walked five miles through the forest, now pausing to
look abroad over the settled plain; now sitting to cool
ourselves on the trunk of a fallen tree. We scarcely
liked to speak, so deep was the stillness. Nota breath
stirred among the trees; not a leaf fell, though hardly
a green one was left, No sound was heard in the
“
>
Pon e.
—~_eaEt o
1837]
sleeping woods but the squirrels on the’ dead leaves, |
and here and there a dropping nut which had waited in
vain for a hand to gather it. The pale yellow sun
shone in at the openings, casting faint shadows from
the tree-stems or the leaf-strewn turf; but there was
no glare; all was sof® as moonlight.
In the afternoon we saw, in the course of a long
drive, the effect of the weather on the country-people.
They were as much enlivened by the change as the
woods were stilled. We drove to Seager’s ‘Town, a
Dutch settlement, on French Creek, founded about
1826. It looked cheerful and thriying. It has a
bridge, which had not come into use when I saw it,
for want of a road on the other side of the creek. A
wageon was fording the creek, carrying a family across,
and their cheerful voices came to us from under the
slanting trees which overhung the water. The farm
oxen were swimming after the waggon. ‘The settlers
had all turned out from their fire-sides into their stoups,—
the piazzas which run along both sides of the dwellings.
There the children might be seen, flushed with play,
stopping to get breath, or to gaze at us as we drove
by. The mother was at work on the steps of the stoup,
and the spectacled grandmother sat among the spin-
ning-wheels at the further end, poring over the book
upon her knee. On the forest road we overtook a little
girl and boy, with thetr satchel, plodding their weekly
way home from school to spend the Sabbath with their
parents. They looked heated and tired, and were yet
two miles from the mill—their home: the evening star
already shone through the haze, and they were glad of
a lift; the offer of which they understood, though we
could not speak Dutch. We set them down at their
father’s stile.
We could not have seen this brief season to greater
perfection anywhere, for Meadville and all the neigh-
bouring settlements have been very lately cut out of
the forest. A young girl remembers gathering nuts in
the principal street of Meadville.
A very few days after the lst of November, which I
have described, the gusts had swept down the last
showers of leaves from the rusty oaks, and the wheels
of our stage left their tracks in a thin layer of snow.
The Indian summer had shed its pleasures, and de-
parted. H. M.
EDUCATION FOR THE BLIND.
To True Eprror oF THE ‘ Penny MaGazine.
SIR, My eye has just fallen on some remarks on “ Al-
phabets for the Blind,” and “ Printing for the Blind,” in
No. 289 of your Magazine, and on the note by the Editor,
appended to those remarks. Allow me to say, by way of
comment, what I have seen in America of the advantage |
to the blind of being taught to read with the fingers.
In the Blind Asylum at Boston, Massachusetts, there 1s
a prifting-press, employed for printing, I believe, all the
literature of the blind in America. The common alphabet
is used; and the only difference between this and common
printing is, that no ink is used; that the types are sharper
and more raised than ordinary; and that the paper is of a
thicker quality, and is more wetted.. The process of print-
ing has been much simplified within a few years; and I
believe no one there now advocates the employment of any
alphabet but the common one.
A. considerable variety of works are now printed at this
press. I have in my possession, besides separate sheets,
containing the Lord's prayer, alphabets, &c., a thick volume
of grammar. I have sent for more ;—for Testaments, and
for any books of amusement which may have.been actually
brought into use by the pupils since I was in Boston.
As for the benefit of the blind by this apparatus, there
can be no doubt of its being very great. At the asylum at
Philadelphia, I repeatedly got the pupils toa read to me from
their Testaments, taking care to choose portions with which
they were not familiar. They could read with tolerable
fluency, and made no mistakes. It was delightful to see
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
0635
the pupils, both at Boston and Philadelphia, reading for
their own solace. They sit fingering the lines, their faces
upraised (as the faces of the blind usually are), and smiles
com'ng forth now and then at what they are reading;
smiles at first perplexing to the stranger, who is accustomed
to see the amused reader bent over his book. The art has
now advanced so far that there seems no reason why the
blind should not sit all the morning absorbed in ‘ Robinsen
Crusoe,’ or laughing over ‘Don Quixote,’ much like other
people. The expense of printing for this class of readers
need not now much exceed that of common printing on
good paper.
I supposed, till lately, that it was only young fingers,
unhardened by application to mechanical labour, which
could have nicety of touch enough to distinguish the letters.
Six months ago I should have agreed with your corre-
spondent in this particular; but facts have convinced me to
the contrary. Some of my specimens of the Boston print-
ing were carried away from my table by a frieud, for the use
of a poor blind woman whom she knew. I had no hope of
any good result from their use; for the woman had been
blind only eight years, previous to which time she was a
washerwoman. Her hands have been constantly exercised
in hard labour ever since, and a more hopeless set of finger-
ends could hardly have been put under instruction. Yet
already has this woman become able to read, to her own
great satisfaction. She was able to read before she was
blind ; but your correspondent’s doubt is concerning the pos-
sibility of the hard hand of labour being available for the
purpose under our notice. This poor woman has learned to
read, and is waiting with much eagerness for the arrival of
the further treasures of literature which I have sent for to
Boston. She asks how long they will be in coming; and
says her Sundays will now no more be the dull days they
have been for eight long years. }
Every one will agree with your correspondent as to the
benefit and pleasure to the blind of being read to in parties.
There will always be many books which they can become
acquainted with by no other means. but this is no reason
why they should not be able to read themselves. The poor
woman mentioned above has a kind husband, who reads to
her every evening on his return from his work, affording
her a bright hour at the close of her dark day; but she is
not for this the less delighted at her new acquisition.
The pupils at the Philadelphia Institution are very fond
of geography, and would fully confirm all your correspond-
ent’s praise of maps in relief. I asked one boy whether
he thought he could trace my long journey through the
United States. He replied, ‘“‘I could if I knew where you
had been.” { told him the principal towns, lakes, rivers,
and mountains that I had passed; and he found every one
with the utmost accuracy, without any help, and with per-
fect glee. The great library of voyages and travels seems
now to be completely opened to their intelligence. I wish
if were brought within ow7 comprehension how those con-
ceptions of space are originated throngh the sense of touch,
which we owe mainly to that of light. If this could be
discovered, the whole of society might be found to be as
much indebted to the invention of maps in relief as the
blind themselves. HW. M.
Extemporaneous Speaking.—But the power of extem-
pore speaking is not less singular though more frequently
displayed, at least in this country. A practised orator will
declaim in measured and in various periods—will weave his
discourse into one, texture—form parenthesis within paren-
thesis—excite the passions, or move to laughter—take a
turn in his discourse from an accidental interruption, making
it the topic of his rhetoric for five minutes to come, and pur-
suing in like manner the new illustrations to which it gives
rise—mould his diction with a view to attain or to shun an
epigrammatic point, or an alliteration, or a discord; and all
this with so much assured reliance on his own powers, and
with such perfect ease to himself, that he shall even plan
the next sentence whilst he is pronouncing off-hand the
one he is engaged with, adapting each to the other, and
shall look forward to the topic which is to follow and fit in
the close of the one he is handling to be its introducer, nor
shall any auditor be able to discover the ieast difference
between all this and the portion of bis speech which he has
got by heart, or tell the transition from the one to the other,
—Lord Brougham’s Discourse.
3A 2
364
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
{SuPremser 23,
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Pir,
[Cork Forest at Moira. ]
Besipxs the beauties of her capital, Portugal possesses
inany scenes of a highly romantic and interesting cha-
racter, as well from the historical associations connected
with them as from the rich and noble natural produc-
tions which adorn them. ‘The soil of Portugal, like
that of the neighbouring kingdom (Spain), is extremely
livht; but the fine climate amply compensates for the
waut of a richer soil. ‘he olive, the orange, the lemon,
the fig, the pomegranate, the alinond, and indeed every
plant loving a warm climate, are to be found in the
ereatest luxury of growth. ‘The deep tones of the olive
mingling with foliage of a lighter tint, and the golden
hue of the oranee and lemon through the dark leaves,
eive a character to the groves of Portugal peculiarly
enchanting.
fruit-trees, interspersed with fountains in every possible
variety of shape and situation; and the coolness im-
parted to the atmosphere by the shadows of the trees
and the playing of the water, renders a walk in their
eardens exceedingly pleasant.
But, notwithstanding the little labour which is neces-
sary to make the soil productive, large tracts of land
remain totally uncultivated, and others are covered with
forests of pine or of cork. ‘The royal forest of the
Alemtejo (beyond the Tagwus is the largest in extent
in the country, and is as beautiful in its appearance as
varied in its productions ;—now covering the level plain
for leagues, and now climbing up the mountain side;
—now overshadowing the roaring torrent, and now
spreading its green canopy over the beautiful valley !
Amongst the forest scenery, the pine bears a dis-
tincuishing preponderance. Though these trees do
not grow to the magnitude of the same species in the
northern climates, yet they serve all the purposes for
Which they are required by the Portuguese; charcoal
and wood for burning are indispensable requisites in a |
The orchards of the nobility are forests of
country where coal has not been discovered ; and the
extreme inflammability of the pine renders it an in-
valuable product in the domestic economy of a Portu-
onese family. - When used in the natural or uncharred
state, the more resinous parts are cut out, and are used
as lamps and torches by the country people, whilst the
reinainder, In its greenest state, burns with a strong
and bright flame. ‘The pine also yields an exquisite
nut, which the natives call ‘* pintado,” and of which they
are exceedinely fond. The appearance also of the pine
in the Peninsula is different from any of the saine
family in colder climates. The trunk is bare from the
root to the height of twenty, thirty, or forty feet, when the
branches shoot out in lines curved upward, and pointed
with the apple which yields the nut. There are also
many specimens of the common Scotch fir, but not in
sufficient quantities to form a prominent feature in the
products of the country. There is a fir of this descrip-
tion near Moira, on the Tagus, which for grandeur
and size I have not seen surpassed. It is known as the
‘** Guerillas’ Tree,” from the frequent robberies and
executions which took place beneath its branches,
which were made to serve as a gallows to the thieves,
when taken. Such specimens are, however, extremely
rare; the heat causes the trees to shoot up to a dis-
proportionate height, and the necessity of supplying the
country with charcoal causes them to be cnt down be-
fore they can acquire size by age. Here and there,
amidst the boundless woods, may be seen an olive
grove, or a vineyard, surrounded by a hedge of aloes,
whose strong pointed leaves render them useful as a
fence as well as ornamental. ‘The oak grows in con-
siderable quantities, but is dwarfish and insignificant
compared with the cork-tree, which, in Portugal at
least, is King of the Forest. The ancient forests of
these noble trees are now mostly converted into parks
‘ t !
1837]
for the king or nobility : they resemble much our larger
kind of oak in the form of their branches, though per-
haps more graceful; the leaves are smoother, and of a
brighter green; the bark, which is of-an immense thick-
ness, is extremely rugged, and of a yellowish tint, mixed
with a bright grey, and not unfrequently covered with
a species of dry grey moss.
The most extensive cork-forest is situated a few miles
from the town of Moira, in the Alemtejo. When I
beheld it, the beauty of the scene was heightened by
the temporary occupation of the troops of Dom Pedro.
The bivouac is always a scene of bustle and animation :
—the lively costume of the soldiers,—the glitter of
their arms,—the artillery drawn up,—the cavalry dis-
mounted,—the soldiers formed into groups of various
magnitude,—are at any time objects of interest; but
when surrounded by the noblest works of Nature, the
effect is irresistibly imposing. Such was the scene in
the cork-forest of Moira, of which our wood-cut 1s a
sketch: every tree became, as it were, a house for a
dozen or more soldiers, the broad branches and thick.
foliage affording ample protection, as well from the
heat of the sun by day as from the heavy dews by
night ;—some were busied in preparations for the frugal
meal,—others were reposing after the fatigues of the
march,—others, again, forming beds from the branches
or underwood,—and all happy that they could avail
themselves of a protection and cover as beautiful as it
was grateful.
There is a remarkably fine specimen of the cork-tree
at the pass of Mattar Quatra, near Santarem. ‘This
tree, I have no donbt, will be well remembered by
many of our readers, as the picket in that romantic
valley covers the road to Lisbon by Cartaxo, and the
tree itself served, and still serves, as a station for a
sentinel in troubled times.
VISIT TO THE CAVERN OF CARIPE, IN THE
PROVINCE OF CUMANA,
. COMMONLY KNOWN BY THE NAME or “LA GRUTA DEL
GUACHARO.”
(Concluded from No, 356.]
‘““ Wr continued to advance -into the depths of the
cavern, measuring and observing it as we proceeded ;
while the Guacharoes, disturbed by our lights, screamed,
and made a most hideous uproar in the higher recesses
of the ¢rotto, flying backwards and forwards, and adding
to the horrible din by the flapping of their wings.
** At a distance of 240 varas (equal to about 658
English feet) from the entrance, we began to ascend a
slope of 25 degrees, formed of calcareous rocks petrified,
and heaped upon each other in such a manner as to
form steps. Having reached to a distance of 325 varas
(equal to about 891 English feet), we descended an
easy slope, formed by a spongy floor, resulting from
the decayed remnants of the food of the Guacharoes,
nixed with their excrement,—so enormons is the num-
ber of these birds which frequent this cavern.
‘A scaffolding had been erected, consisting of a pole
formed of the timber of the Mataca set upright, and
supported at its base by a variety of timbers or beams,
secured in their places by four stakes and an incrus-
tation of the cavern. ‘To this pole were fixed cross
pieces arranged at convenient distances from each other,
so as to form steps to facilitate the ascent of the Indians ;
while a vine, fastened to its extremity, and secured at
its other end to the more solid petrifactions which pro-
jected into the cave, served as a cord stretched beneath
the vault. ‘The Indian who climbs the pole in quest of
the Guacharves, having reached this vine, places his
feet upon it, and grasping the projecting incrustations
or stalactites with one hand, employs the other to grope
for and drag the young birds from their nests, advancing
slong the vine, (as a seaman does along the horses, or
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
305
ropes attached under the yards for the men to stand on
when loosing, reefing, or furling a sail,) and traversing
the elevated vault of the cavern in quest of their prey.
‘* June is the season for collecting the fat of the Gua-
charo, which is obtained from the young birds, which
are exposed to heat over a fire, when the solid parts
remain in the form of hard lumps, while the remainder
is converted into an exquisite marreca, or lard.
‘* The cavern continued to preserve the greatest uni-
formity in its direction, varying neither in height,
breadth, nor form, otherwise than from the effects of
the stalactitic incrustations which depended from its
roof, or projected from its sides. A muriatic oypsum
(ef ypso muriato) is found incrusting its walls, similar
to that which is met with in the limestone of Jura, or
in that of the Alps. whether serving as a partition
between these two formations, or interposed between
the Alpine limestone and the argillaceous clay.
“* The rivulet once more crossed our path, and was
soon after lost in the midst of hollow stalactitic masses,
amongst which it appeared, from its noise, as if it
formed a subterranean cascade.
‘“ At this spot we found the temperature of the air to
be between 18°°5 and 19 centesimal degrees (between
65°°30 and 66°°2 of Fahrenheit’s scale); the exterior
alr of the cavern being at 17°°5 (63°°5 Fahr.). We
had found the temperature of the air at the entrance
of the cavern to be 18° (64°°4 Fahr.).”
Baron Humboldt found the temperature within thre
cavern, in the month of September, 1800, to be !18°-4
(65°° 12 Fahr.), and 18°°9 (66°°02 Fahr.). The ex-
ternal temperature, at the same time, was 16°°2 (61°° 16
Fahr.), and that of the air at the entrance of the grotto
17°: 6 (63°°86 Fahr.); while the thermometer on being
immersed in the water of the mvnilet, indicated a tem-~
perature of 16°°8 (62°°25 Fahr.).
‘These experiments possess a high degree of interest
when we take into consideration the tendency of the
temperature to establish an equilibrium between the
water, the wir, and the earth. The thermometer, on
immersion in the water of the rivulet at the point where
it loses itself, indicated a difference of two (centesimal)
devrees (3°°6 Fahr.) below the temperature of the air.
** After reaching to the distance of 570 varas (about
1564 English feet) from the entrance, we found thie
floor of the cavern begin to ascend with an inclination
of sixty degrees.
beyond this point, being unable to prevail upon the
Indians to accompany him. ‘Terrified at the frightful
and @loomy aspect of the cavern, intreaties and pro-
mises were alike ineffectual in prevatling upon them to
advance. ‘The panic produced by the shrill and deafen-
ine screams of the birds, and, above all, the firm per-
snasion that the sonls of their ancestors resided within
the dark and dismal recesses of that gloomy and mys-
terious mansion, operated as motives sufficiently powerful
with the Indians of that day, to make them resolute in
their determination not to penetrate farther within its
awful precincts. Now, however, superstition having
less sway over the minds of the Indians, they silently,
but without opposition, followed our steps.
‘© We clambered over some rocks confusedly heaped
one upon another, nntil at length, at the end of 632
varas (about 1734 English feet), the ascent terminated.
‘The breadth of the cavern was here contracted to
ten varas (273 English feet), and its height reduced to
twelve (nearly 33 English fect); its structure, however,
continued unchanged, and it still preserved, without
variation, its original direction to north-east.
“ Here we again fell in with the rivulet, and were only
able to make our way by descending into its bed, every
other mode of advancing being prevented by the petri-
factions and incrustations which adhered vertically to
the walls of the cavern. In this manner we continued
Humboldt was nnable to penetrate.
4
O66
to advance, wading through the water, till we had
reached to the distance of 647 varas (about 1771
English feet), when the cavern suddenly changed its
direction, and displayed an infinite number of columns,
with small lateral recesses on the right, while the wall
on the left continued vaulted. The stalactites and in-
crnstations were particularly abundant at this spot,
which we found to swarm so ffightfully with the Gua-
charoes, that the horrible noise of ‘their shrill cries
rendered it impossible for us to hear one another.
‘We pursued the course of the stream, which flowed
from the right, and found the floor of the cavern, which
was covered with the pulverized excrement of the
Guacharoes, continue to ascend, with an almost, imper-
ceptible slope, to a spot where the grotto attained
a breadth of twenty-two varas (about 60 English
feet), with a height considerably greater in amount;
its walls shaped in the most grotesque fashion, and its
roof displaying the most singular forms. At the dis-
tance of 885 varas (about 2263 Enelish feet) from the
entrance, we again lost the rivulet, which here issued
from a narrow cave, leaving the floor of the cavern per-
fectly level in the direction if had previously occupied *.
This level space, however, did not continue to any great
distance; for, on reaching to the length of 950 varas
(about 2606 English feet), the floor of the cavern
rose abruptly, with a large mass of petrifactions, at an
angle of seventy degrees.
‘No person had hitherto penetrated so far within the
depths of the cavern, with the exception of the Bishop
of Guayana, spoken of by Humboldt; who imagined
that this was the termination of the erotto; while the
baron, on the contrary, was of opinion that it extended
at least to 1088 varas (2992 English feet, or about
352 feet more than half a statute mile).
‘“* None of the Indians had hitherto ventured farther
into the cavern than this spot, at which they had erected
their last scaffolding for the capture of the Guacharoes,
~“ F succeeded in clambering up some heaps of petri-
factions to a level with the roof of the cavern, but
without being able to detect the slightest trace of any
farther continuation of it in this direction. On ex-
amining the barometer, I found that I was 225 varas
(about 617 Enelish feet) above the level of the vestibule
of the cavern.
‘““{ descended some steep places, and, after a little
while, reached an oval resting-place, towards the east,
the walls of which rose perpendicularly. The intro-
duction of torches enabled us to discover a narrow
cavern, which opened into it, the direction of which ran
towards the north. I was meditating a descent into
this subterranean cavity, by the aid of the scaffolding
left by the Indians, when I fell in with another cavity,
which led me to a re-discovery of the rivulet which had
lost itself in some hollows.
“In our examination of this, we retraced our steps
for a distance of about twenty-five varas (68% English
feet) when we fell in with a small opening of one vara
(about 2% English feet) in height, and the same in
breadth, which sloped downwards towards the east,
with an inclination of forty-five degrees. The floor
was covered with excrementitious matter reduced to
powder, in which we could discover the prints of the
feet of animals without being at first able to recognise
the species. Subsequently, however, we ascertained
that they were thase of the Lapas ft.
* The expression “ par una cueva estrecha,’”” by a narrow cave,
might seem to imply that this narrow cave received the rivulet
(quebrada) in its descent; had this, however, been the case, the
travellers, whose course was directed against, not with, that of the
stream, must have met with, not dost it—a fact not only at variance
with the words “ se nos perdia,” but, as the translator conceives,
with the previous part of the narrative.
{ The translator has not been able to determine what ig the
creature intended to be expressed under this name.
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
[SepremBer 23,
“TY questioned the Indians as to whether any one had
ever penetrated to this spot before us; to which they
answered decidedly in the negative; adding that it was
impossible for any one to advance farther, since none
of them had ever descended. I immediately seized a
torch, and lying down flat on my belly, crept along for
a distance of abont six varas (about 163 Enelish feet),
when the cavity began to enlarge, and at length, at
the end of twelve varas (nearly 33 Enelish feet), I was
once more able to stand erect.
** Jose Lopez, a native of the place, and alcaid of
Caripe, followed my steps, accompanied by my assist-
ants carrying torches, the needle, the barometer, and
the thermometer. As we advanced, the cavern pro-
eressively enlarged, and the descent became more
rapid. At 25 waras (684 Enelish feet) we again fell
in with the rivulet we had lost, but found ourselves
deserted by the Indians, who had hitherto accompanied
us, carrying hatchets and ropes; and it was only by
returning, and forcing them to advance in front, that
the alcaid succeeded in getting four of the number to
descend to the spot where we were, the whole of the
remainder obstinately refusing to proceed farther.
‘* Notwithstanding this discouraging desertion, we
persevered in our determination to explore to the utmost
the whole extent of this newly-discovered cavern, and
proceeded in the execution of our task with the dim
lisht of only two torches, undismayed by the deep
obscurity of the place, or the hideous uproar of the
Guacharoes.
“Seeing that we had a sufficiency of torches, taking
into account not only those which we had actually in
use, but those which we had yet unexpended in reserve,
we boldly continued our onward march. ‘The breadth
of the rivulet was here contracted within narrow dimen-
sions; but the depth of the water it contained was not
less than four feet, with a soft and miry bottom; while
its steep, scarped, and slippery banks added much to
our labour in passing them.
‘* Here we found the appearance of every thing altered ;
neither stalagmites nor stalactites, or any kind of in-
crustation, could be observed, nor could we meet with
either limestone or gypsum. ‘The whole mass consisted of
an ar@illaceous clay, by the solubility of which in water
this cavity had evidently been formed: no birds had
penetrated into this mysterious sanctuary, in which the
most mournful silence prevailed, unbroken except by
the gentle murmur of the water, as it flowed tranquilly
along in a bed which was hardly petrified. ‘This cavern
did not exceed four varas (nearly 1T Einelish feet) in
height, and twelve varas (nearly 33 English feet) in
breadth. If the vast cavern, which we now finished
tracing, admitted of being termed a beautifil horror,
it well deserved the appellation. ,
“We continued to follow the direction of the stream,
along a slippery bank raised in the form of a ridge,
for a length of fifty varas (about 137 Enelish feet) till
we found all other possibility of advancing, otherwise
than by wading through the bed of the stream itself,
at an end. Compelled by necessity, we adopted this
plan; and availing ourselves of a narrow corridor, of
from one to two varas in width, and between two and
three varas in height, containing water waist deep, with
a bottom of fine gravel, proceeded in its bed for some
distance, when we found it enlarge its dimensions to
three varas in width, and five varas in height. But,
notwithstanding this expansion of its dimensions, we
were absolutely unable to find any other mode of pro-
eressing than that’ which we had been compelled to
adopt, namely, by wading along the bed of the same
stream, which here flowed down a gently inclined plane,
through a channel hollowed out of an argillaceous clay,
coated with incrustations. We followed this canal for
'a farther distance, when our progress was arrested by
1837.]
its water forming an oval pool: we could only detect a
very small opening from which it issued.
“Our efforts to discover an outlet by which we should
be enabled to pursue this branch, the entire length of
which was 225 varas (617 Enelish feet), any farther,
proved utterly fruitless. ‘The thermometer indicated,
at this spot, a temperature of 19°°4 (66°°92 Fahr.) ;
and, on immersion in the water, it stood at 18°°5
(65°°3 J*ahr.).
‘* Retracing our steps, we met with a vertical opening,
from which a small stream of water filtered; this open-
ing followed a N.N.W. direction. We accordinely
entered this passage, when we found it expand, and
present to our view a descent, the inclination of which
was forty-five degrees, hollowed out through a cal-
careous and gypseous soil, filled with incrustations.
We now descended for a farther distance, when we
found the passage so much contracted in its dimensions,
that we experieuced no small difficulty in making our
way forward, with our bodies bent half double; and, in
many parts, we were even obliged to crawl on our bel-
lies along the ground. But what was our admiration
and surprise, when, after proceeding in this manner
for the length of three varas (8+ English feet), a
beautiful chamber, formed by three broad arches, seve-
rally pointing to the west, the south, and the north-
east, suddenly opened to our view!
“‘ Here the cavern exchanged at once the forbidding
and lugubrious character which it had hitherto pre-
sented for one of the most gvorgeous magnificence, in
which the wonders of Nature were most profusely dis-
played in every possible variety of the most splendid
petrifactions.
“The roof appeared to be constructed of the fairest
crystal, curiously wrought by the plastic hand of Na-
ture into the utmost diversity of the most exquisite
forms that the imagination of man can picture to itself.
Stalactites, as rare in their figures as they were brilliant
in their composition, hung suspended from it; while
colunins, pyramids, and obelisks, some vying in white-
ness with the purest snow, and some beautifully marked
with coloured veins, presented themselves to the de-
liehted eye. Some of these appeared, as it were, hewn
out of the finest alabaster, —while others seemed to be
constructed of bronze,—and others of the rarest miarble,
elittering with brilliant points from which the light,
which fell upon them from the torches which we carried,
was reflected in every direction.
*< The floor was covered with the most delicate petri-
factions, each so beautifully formed, and so exquisitely
brilliant, rivalling in this respect the finest diamonds,
that they left the imagination nothing to desire. ‘These
succeeded each other like steps, and served in many
instances to form pedestals, which gave support to a
variety of beautiful stalagmites, representing, as it were,
so many statues fresh from the chisel of the statuary.
These petrifactions displayed all the freshness of receut
formations, and presented altogether an assemblage
worthy of the most profound admiration. ,
“In the centre of this incomparable apartment a
kind of tumulus, shining as if plated with silver, and
white as alabaster, rose, upou semicircular steps, to the
heieht of three varas (84 Enelish feet): the fori of this
tumulus was that of a rounded tabernacle, proportioned
to its height; it was finished with half an orange, as
elaborately wrought as if it had been executed by the
hands of ithe most skiful workman; upon this half
orange rested a globe, surmounted by a truncated
pyramid. ‘To the left we observed two columns, of an
order approaching to the Ionic, and so perfectly cor-
responding to each other in all their proportions, that
they appeared to be the result of design, and not of
accident ; these columns served as supports to the arch
which formed the doorway. Their pedestals and capitals }
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
367
were of a slate or erey colour, while the brilliant white
of the substance which composed their shafts rivalled
in splendour that of the snow. At the opposite ex-
tremity to that in which these columns stood, a number
of other columns, of white and variegated materials,
but arranged without any apparent regard to order,
formed a large: saloon, filled with crystallized stalac-
tites.
“Such was the surprise and delight with which we
viewed these admirable works of an omnipotent Creator,
that a considerable time was suffered to elapse before
one of us broke the solemn silence. The Indians, who
were my assistants, stood in scattered groups, with the
torches in their hands, wazing in silent amazement at
this stupendous display of the wonderful and mysterious
‘works of Nature.
“The rays of light, falline in various directions,
lighted up a vast variety of different objects, well worthy
of a master pen for their description; but utterly beyond
the power of any human pencil to depict with anything
approaching to the accuracy of truth. ‘The lustre which
each of these grotesque forms displayed when illumi-
nated by the rays which casually glanced upon it, the
deep shadows which, thus lighted up, they cast upon
other forms but indistinctly visible through the gloom;
the deep obscurity in which the great majority of these
objects were buried; the smoke emitted by the torches,
and rising perpendicularly in curling columns towards
the silent vault; everything in this astonishing place
combined to impress upon it the character of enchant-
ment.
“* Having satisfied our curiosity, and induleed our
admiration by a prolonged and minute survey of this
imposing spectacle, we quitted this enchanting spot,
taking a direction to the north-east. Some steps, of a
semicircular form, conducted us upwards, through a
labyrinth of columns and stalactites, exhibiting’ all the
stages of filtration, petrifaction, and incrustation, from
the very commencement of the process to its full com-
pletion. So that the spectator, while watching the fall
of the drop, inpregnated with the eypseous and sparry
matter held in solution, has the satisfaction of beholding:
it converted, in a few seconds, from a liquid to a solid
state, and assumiue whatever form chance may have
been pleased to impress upon it, at the instant of the
escape of the solvent fluid from the substances sus-
pended in it; and which, thus deprived of the water
which maintained them in a state of solution, by form-
ine a crystalline coating upon the substances on which
they fall, acquire either the same conformation; that
which they derive from the impulse acquired in their
descent, or, in fine, that which has been impressed upon
them by the action of the air at the instant of conge-
lation, whether the drop has already fallen, or is in the
act of doing so.
“The hei¢ht of this beautiful cavern is eighteen varas
(about 49 Enelish feet) ; and its width measures four-
teen varas (about 38 Ienelish feet). No bird has pene-
trated into its dark recesses; in which « solemn still-
ness, unbroken by the slightest noise, powerfully disposes
the mind to serious and religious meditation.
* We walked on, absorbed in an unbroken rapture of
silent admiration, and measured a length of 125 varas
(nearly 351 English feet); at the end of which we found
the cave terminated by a gradual contraction of its
dimensions, occasioned by the multiplication of small
stalactites and stalagmites, forming pilasters, roofs,
small arches, pyramids, cones, and an infinite number
of impenetrable hollows. We crept, nevertheless, on
our hands and knees for a farther distance of ten varas
(about 27 English feet), beyond which the progressive
increase of these natural obstructions effectually pre-
vented our farther advance.
** Unable to prosecute our researches to any greater
365
extent in this direction, we returned to the vault of
which we have already spoken, as situated to the west ;
but, after penetrating to the distance of thirty varas
(about 82 English feet), we found it also closed up by
a vast and compact mass of stalactites and stalagmites
united together.
‘* Baffled here, we next tried the southern vault, which
we found to be distinguished by nothing but large
stalactitic incrustations which had fallen, and were piled
up against each other; truncated pyramids, and a large
white pyramid which appeared to be ready to fall, as it
only rested with one of its angles against an enormous
mass of petrified matter six varas (about 16 English
feet) in height.
‘This cavern descended, by broken calcareous rocks,
which became blended together, at the end of forty
varas (109$ English feet), into an irregular vault.
‘ rom the situation and direction of this cavern, we
may safely affirm that the oval opening, which loses
itself in the large principal cavern, at the distance
of 960 varas (2634 Enelish feet), at the bottom of
which we observed a small fissure running towards the
north, communicates with it; althongh I was unable
to ascertain this fact with anything like certainty, from
the circumstance, doubtless, of its being hidden from
view by the rocks already spoken of.
“The cavern of Caripe may be regarded as forming
three distinct branches; of which the principal, ex-
tending for a distance of 975 varas (2676 English
feet), is composed of ancient petrifactions, and is in-
habited by the nocturnal birds, already mentioned, and
from whom it derives its name of ‘Cueva 0 Gruta del
Guacharo.’
‘©To discover the second branch it is necessary to
retrace your steps for a space of 25 varas (about 68
English feet). This branch has been excavated ont of
an argillaceous clay, indnrated by the constant action of
the rivulet; it is utterly destitute both of birds and of
every other animated being, and is 225 varas (617
Enelish feet) in length.
“To reach the third and last branch, in which we
fonnd traces of its being inhabited by the rapas, it
is necessary to eo back a fnrther space of 25 varas
(68 Enelish feet). This cavern, which is 135 varas
(3703 English feet) in length, is the most beautiful,
picturesque, and surprising part of the whole.
“The length of this last branch, added to that of the
other two, e@ives a total length of 1285 varas,* for the
space occupied by this stupendous and extraordinary
grotto; which may be justly regarded as one of the
greatest wonders of the world; one of the most ex-
traordinary objects in the republic of Venezuela; and
the most colossal and extensive cavern known to exist.”
—_
THE MODERN CORNARO.
(From the *‘ Book of Table Talk.’)
Every one has heard of Lewis Cornaro. He was a
rakish Venetian, who, at the age of forty, finding that
he had lived too fast, as the phrase is, determined to
follow the advice of his physicians, and pursue a more
temperate course of life. He diminished the quantity
of his food until his daily allowance was reduced to
half the yolk of an egg, and by his rigid abstinence
revived so effectually, that he lived to the age of one
hundred. His death took place in 1566. <A more re-
cent instance of a similar abstinence is recorded in the
* Medical Transactions of the College of Physicians.’
Thomas Wood, a miller of Billericay, in Essex, was in
the habit of eating voraciously of fat meat three times
“ This is equal to 3525-8 English feet, which are equivalent to
ae English yards, or 295°27 yards, more than half a statute
maile.
THE PENNY MAGAZINE
[SerremMBen 23, 18387,
a day, and he also swallowed large quantities of butter,
cheese, and strong ale. For a long time he suffered no
inconvenience from his gluttony, but in his forty-fourth
year he began to be disturbed in his sleep, had a con-
stant thirst, great lowness of spirits, and many other
bad symptoms. The most formidable one was a sense
of suffocation, which often attacked him, especially after
meals. He grew worse, until the month of August, 1764,
when he was in the forty-fifth year of his age. At this
time, Mr. Powley, a neighbouring clergyman, pnt the
‘ Life of Cornaro’ into his hands. The miller read it, and
was convinced, but, believing that a bit-by-bit reform
was the best, he retrenched his diet by degrees. At first,
he confined himself to a pint of ale a-day, and used ani-
mal food sparingly. His health immediately improved ;
so that, after he had pnrsued this regimen for two
months,. he diminished his allowance of ale by one-half,
and was still more sparing of eross animal food. Onthe
Ath of January, 1765, he discontinued the use of malt
liquor; and between this period and July 31, 1767, he
successively gave up meat, butter, cheese, and all drinks
whatever, excepting what he took in the form of medi-
cine. After the last-mentioned date, his diet was chiefly
confined to pudding made of sea-bisenit.
The poor diet to which he has accustomed himself
is now as agreeable to his palate as his former food used
to be; and he has the additional satisfaction to find his
health established, his spirits lively, his sleep no longer
disturbed by frightful dreams, and his strength of mus-
cles so far improved that he can carry a quarter of a
ton weight, which weight he in vain attempted to carry
when he was about the age of thirty years. His voice,
which was entirely lost for several years, is now become
clear and strong. In short, to use his own expression,
he is metamorphosed from a monster to a person of a
moderate size; from the condition of an unhealthy de-
crepit old man, to perfect health, and to the vigonr and
activity of youth. His flesh is now firm, his complexion
well-coloured, and, what is very remarkable,” says Dr.
Baker, the relator of the case, ‘‘ the intersuments of his
belly, which I expected to have found loose and pendn-
lous, are contracted nearly in proportion to his diminished
bulk.” ‘* Prejudiced by a commonly prevailing supersti-
tion, Mr. Wood never suffered himself to be weighed,
either during the state of. his extreme corpulence or
since his reduction; but it is conjectured that he has
lost ten, or perhaps eleven, stone weight.”
A very remarkable point in the regimen of this strong-
minded and strong-bodied miller was the time he al-
lotted to sleep: he went to bed at eight in the evening,
or earlier, and rose at one or two in the morning, sleep-
ing no more than five or six hours.
‘I have thrice had an opportunity,” says Dr. Baker,
‘of examining his pulse, about ten o’clock in the morn-
ing, after his having walked six honrs. The first time,
I counted 45 pulsations in a minute; the next time, 47;
the last, only 44.”
This is about 30 pulsations lower than the ordinary
pulse of a healthy man, and in most persons a walk of
six hours would certainly quicken the action of the
heart.
The most extraordinary part of the case, however, is
Mr. Wood's entire abstinence from drink, of which there
is, we believe, no other well-authenticated instance.
The narration goes as far as the 22nd of Angust, 1771,
when the miller, then in his fifty-second year, was still
pursuing the same system, and still deriving the same
advantages from it.
*,* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at
59, Lincoln’s Inn Fields,
LONDON :. CHARLES KNIGHT & CO., 22, LUDGATE STREET.
Printed by Witttam_CxLowes and Sons, Stamford Street,
Call 1}
THE PENNY MAGAZINE
- OF THE
society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledze.
PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. [SeErtTEMBER 30, 1837,
MONTYON AND THE PUBLIC REWARD OF MERIT—SOCIETY FOR PUBLISHING MEMOIRS
AND PORTRAITS OF USEFUL MEN.
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[Montyon and Franklin, from the Medal of the Society. ]
A PRIZE is publicly presented every year in France, by
the highest learned body of that country, to the French-
man who has acquired a just title to the distinction by
the performance of some signal act of courage and
devotion in the cause of humanity; or by establishing
a useful institution, or discovering or perfecting means
for ameliorating the condition of any class of society.
It was instituted by M. de Montyon, a virtuous and
benevolent man, who adopted this means of awarding,
especially to persons of the humbler ranks of life, a
more extensive degree of public approbation than they
would otherwise have obtained. Wherever an.example
occurred of noble disinterestedness, of philanthropic de-
votion, performed without ostentation, it’ was the object
of M. de Montyon to exhibit it in all its moral beauty
to the admiration of his countrymen. ‘ There are perhaps
differences in the character of the English nation which
render it inexpedient in this country to have recourse to
the principle upon which M. de Montyon acted. Not-
withstanding, however, the facility with which the gene-
rous sympathies of Enelishmen are aroused, there are
doubtless instances of persons who have displayed the
most admirable qualities, whose sole reward is the
secret encouragemeut of a good conscience, a recom-
pense which exceeds all others in value; but in this
country we would rather witness the spontaneous out-
Vou, VI.
burst of public approbation, though sometimes liable
to be silent when it should be active, than rely upon
an organized means acting with the certainty and
regularity of a constituted body.
M. de Montyon passed the ereater part of his life
during a period in which, in France at least, it was
scarcely believed that the poorer classes of society were
capable of being actuated by any sentiments of an
elevated nature; but he lived to see them restored to
a more deserving position, an object which had always
called forth his most active exertions. ‘This excellent
man was born at Paris, December 23rd, 1733. In
1768 he was governor of one of the provinces into
which France was then divided; and in this responsible
situation, his administration was productive of benefits
which procured for him the gratitude and respect of all
classes, and particularly of the poor. He was removed
from this sphere of usefulness to make way for the
favourite of a minister. In 1789, before the Revo-
lution, without coming forward publicly, he gave a
prize to the writer of the most useful work on manners.
During the stormy period which succeeded, he lived an
exile in England, dividing his income with his unfor~
tunate countrymen without distinction. On his return
to France he instituted several prizes, the perpetual
maintenance of which he provided for by liberal endow-
3B
370
menis. Dnring the last years of his life he devoted
every year between 7002. and €00/. to withdrawing
from the pawnbroking establishments of the capital’
all articles on which sums under five francs had been
advanced. It may be doubted whether this was alto-
gether a useful direction for his benevolence, but it
shows the kindness of his heart. M.de Montyon died
at Paris December 29th, 1820. By lis will he left
152,000/. to public hospitals, and 51,000/. for the an-
nual maintenance of the prizes which he had instituted.
Perhaps the most judicious of all his endowments was
that for the benefit of convalescent patients, who, when
discharged from the hospitals, are still incapable of
earning their livelihood, He left to the mayor of each
of the twelve municipal divisions of Paris the care of
distributing his bounty to this class of distressed persons,
the sum allowed to be in proportion to the necessities of
each case. M. de Montyon was charitable without
ostentation, and hence was accused of avarice; another
instance of the injustice which men are liable to fall
into when they judge too hastily of motives and actions.
The memory of this benevolent man ts not only publicly
honoured on every anniversary for distributing his
prizes, but he has claims of an enduring nature upon
the daily gratitude of many of his fellow-creatures.
One of his perpetual prizes is given each year to the
individual who has discovered the means of rendering
any mechanical occupation less unhealthy; another for
improvements in the arts of medicine and surgery; a
third for a statistical essay. The above prizes are dis-
tributed by the Academy of Sciences. The two follow-
ing are distributed by the French Academy. ‘The “‘ prize
of virtue,” to the Frenchman who has performed the
most meritorious action within the year; and another
prize to the writer of the work likely to have the
ereatest beneficial influence on manners and morality.
In Belgium there is an annual distribution of medals
by the king, in imitation of Montyon's “ prize of virtue.”
They are given on the recommendation of the provin-
cial authorities and others. :
In conjunction with the influence which in France
may be attributed to the Montyon prizes, a society was
formed at Paris in the year 1833, whose object is to
publish memoirs and portraits of men of all countries
who are entitled to be rerarded as the benefactors of
their species. ‘hey are ranked in two classes—the
benevolent simply, as Montyon, Howard, and Mrs. Fry;
and the other class comprises men of equally benevo-
lent character, but who have benefited their kind by
some special means, which they have originated or im-
proved: it includes Jenner, Franklin, Davy, Chaptal,
Jacquard, who have mitigated the evils of society and
ameliorated the weneral condition of man by their ta-
lents. On the first formation of the society a medal
was struck in commemoration of the event. The busts
of Montyon and Franklin, at the head of this notice, are
enlarged copies taken from the medal. ‘The medal bears
inscriptions, which we give in this place. On the left
side are the words ‘* Montyon, Génie de Bienfaisance ;”
aid on the right side, ‘* Franklin, Bienfaisance de
Génie.” On the reverse, in the centre, is inscribed
‘* Les Souscripteurs Associés pour propager I’ Histoire
des Bienfaiteurs de |’Humanité;” and around the
exergue, ‘* Société Montyon et Franklin pour les Por-
traits des HLommes Utiles.’ The intention of the so-
ciety is similar to that which led the Society for the
Diffusion of Useful Knowledge to publish the ‘ Gal-
lery of Portraits.” Only the truly illustrious find a
place inthe publication issued by the ‘ Societé Montyon
et Franklin.’ By the side of princes and prelates, and
persons of rank, are found men of obscure condition,
whose virtues have raised them to equal eminence.
‘he society issues at a cheap rate a monthly publi-
cation containing two portraits, with memoirs. Jn the
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
[SepTEMBER 80,
first two years and a half after its commencement
nearly 1,000,000 portraits had been distributed, and in
the first three years the memoirs of seventy-two indi-
viduals had been given. The subscription is seven
francs a-year, somewhat less than 6s. Each subscriber
to the work becomes a member of the society ; a bronze
medal is given to each of the members who procures
twelve additional subscribers, and above 16,000 have
been awarded; and those who obtain twenty new sub-
scribers receive a silver medal: and in imitation of
Montyon, the society presents annually a gold medal
to some individual who has distinguished himself by
any remarkable traits of philanthropy, of a character
similar to those which entitle individuals to Montyon’s
prize of virtue. A new and valuable feature has been
added to the society’s publication, by giving an analysis
of the works relating to manners and morals which
have obtained Montyon’s prize; and the conductors
have also commenced the publication of an annual
work, which notices the progress of philanthropic insti-
tutions, and whatever is likely to aid in elevating the
character and condition of man. There is every reason
to believe that the labours of the society are attended
with unmixed good. The portraits of men who have
benefited mankind are distributed far and wide in the
cottage of the peasant, and in the dwelling of the
artizan, and generally amongst all classes. ‘This has
the effect of exciting in the most thoughtless a desire
to know something of their history, which knowledge
they derive from the brief accompanying memoir, simply
expressed, but presenting the main points of excellence
ina striking light. A reverence is thus excited for that
which is excellent in the human mind, and in some this
may rise to an enthusiasm which will give a higher
tone to the whole tenor of their existence. By fixing
the attention upon a superior standard of character,
an insensible approximation will be made by some
towards what has justly excited their adiniration.
FISH POISONING IN THE WEST INDIES.
In a climate like that of the regions within the tropics,
where the laneuor resulting during the day from the
unvarying heat of a rarely clouded sun indisposes the
inhabitants to bodily exertion, parties of pleasure for
out-door enjoyment will readily be conceived to be of
but rare occurrence. But, notwithstanding the physical
inaptness of the climate for such recreations, the mo-
notony of a life unbroken, except by the occasional
interruption, once perhaps in seven or more years, of
a hurricane, a volcanic eruption, or an earthquake of
more than ordinary violence, and more than every day
fatality, calls for something approaching to active ex-
ertion, even in the creole of the West Indies, to vary its
staenating sameness, and rouse the thinking faculties of
the man into at least a momentary existence. ‘Jo this
description belong those Marooning parties, which bear
a close resemblance in everything but their name, fo
the Summer Pic Nic’s of our English fashionables,
and those fishing-parties in which, by a refinement,
borrowed from the rude aborigines of the region, and
singularly harmonizing with the lassitude of the climate,
the fatigue both of bodily exertion and of protracted
expectation, is ingeniously avoided; while the plea-
surable degwree of excitement is awakened and main-
tained at its due level without effort and withont pain.
This amusement, known by the name of fish poisoning,
and prohibited, in consequence of the wholesale destrue-
tiveness of its effects, by the laws of many of the islands,
is what we are now about to describe.
It was in the cheerful month of April, when all
nature appears to sympathize with the advancing year,
—when the West Indian dog-wood (Piscidia erythrina),
1837.]
one of the few deciduous trees indigenous to the climate,
had put forth all the glories of its blossoms preparatory
to the appearance of its leaves, that the party, of which
I propose to give a sketch, was formed in one of the
smaller, but by no means least beautiful of those fertile
islands which ‘stud the Carribean Sea, and are known
by the appropriate denomination of the Antilles.
For a short time previous to the day fixed for the
expedition, the neeroes of the estate had been employed
in collecting the roots of the dog-wood tree, and
stripping them of their bark, for the purposes of the
sport. ‘This is a tree whose stature and dimensions
vary much with tlie nature of the soil and the situa-
tion in which it grows, being a lofty tree in the mich
and humid lowlands bordering upon the sea, while
on the dry calcareous or volcanic hills, as Saddle Hull
in the island of Nevis, it presents the appearance of a
branching shrub, covered on its trunk with a light or
grayish-coloured smooth bark, blotched occasionally
with irregular spots of a lighter or whitish hue. When
of sufficient size, its timber is valuable for its beauty,
hardness, and durability ; but it is for the intoxicating
property of the bark of its roots and young branches
that it is most prized and sought after by the lovers of
fish poisoning.
This bark, being reduced to a coarse powder, is mixed |
with a certain proportion of quick, or as it is more com-
monly termed ‘* temper” lime, and the lees of the still-
house, and put into small baskets for the convenience
of use.
All our arrangements being complete, and boats pre-
pared in a small bay adapted to the sport for those who
were disposed to take a more active part in it, we set out
in the afternoon, to the number of some twelve or more
ladies and gentlemen mounted on horseback, and accom-
panied by the usual number of sable attendants, for the
scene of action, distant some half or three-quarters of
a mile in nearly a straight line, with a gradual and
almost imperceptible descent for the whole way, from
the plantation at which we resided ; and proceeding: at
little more than a foot pace, or that easy amble to which
horses in the West Indies are generally trained, we
soon arrived, without much expenditure of bodily labour,
at’ the spot. This was a lovely little secluded bay,
formed by two rocky but low projections of the coast,
and presenting at its bottom a smooth beach of sand,
mostly of volcanic origin, on which the gentle ripple of
the water broke with a scarcely audible murmur. A
dense grove of Manchineel trees (Hippomane manci-
nella) with their glossy leaves of a leathery consistence,
and tempting but deceitful fruit, about the size of a
crab-apple, delicious to the smell, and attractive to the
eye, but fatal to the palate, intermingled with the
slender bending cocoa-nut (Cocos nucifera), loaded above
with its salutary and useful fruit, formed the shady
margin of the bay, and afforded a erateful shelter to the
party, already heated by traversing the open path which
led across a tract, covered with low tortuous bushes of
the common cashaw (Acacia tortuosa), horrible for its
thorns, and covered with a profusion of yellow blossoms
of the most exquisite fragrance, but of too lowly a
stature to afford any protection from the burning rays
of the sun. On the right-hand side of the bay a rude
structure of wood, employed as a storehonse for the
plantation, open to the salutary breeze from the sea,
offered a convenient, although not sumiptuous room for
our entertainment, having been previously fitted up
with furniture from the mansion.
Meanwhile some three or more boats were launched,
and the rowers, accompanied by some gentlemen of the
party, and a couple of negroes, provided. with baskets
containing the materials for our sport, embarked and
pulled towards the centre and opening of the bay.
Arrived at a sufficient distance from the beach, each of
THE PENNY MAGAZINE,
371
the negroes taking one of the baskets in his hands, and
immersing it in the water on the opposite sides of the
boat, by a gentle motion, aided by an oceasional pro-
pulsion of the boat by the rowers, gradually washed
out its contents into the water, which, losing that
brilliant transparency for which the seas of the West
Indies are so pre-eminently conspicuous, rapidly as-
sumed a muddy and a brownish appearance, eradually
diffusing itself from the boats till it filled the whole
compass of the bay. Then began the sport: the larger
fish, such as the speckled conger, and the rich barra-
couta, with the kinefish, and those others whose bulk
enabled them the longest to withstand the stupefying
influence of the treacherous impregnation, swam madly
and blindly about, raising their heads above the deadly
medium in which they moved, and yielding themselves
an easy prey to the negroes in the boats, who caught
them almost. without a strugele in their hands, and
transferred them to their boats; while the rock-hinds,
silks, and other smaller fish, wholly overcome by the
potent influence of the materials with which the water
was impreenated, floated apparently lifeless on the sur-
face, and were laded by dozens in baskets into the boats.
Ifaving thus secured a supply, without the danger, the
hardship, or the fatigue which attends the industry of
the fisherman under other circumstances, and in less
favoured climates, the boats returned with their finny
carvo to the shore, and in less than an hour from the
first commencement of the fishing the choicest of the
fish so taken were smoking upon the table in the rnstic
storehouse, of which nention has been made, and rapidly
disappeared before the hungry party who waited there
to partake of them. After a feast worthy of a London
alderman, washed down with a temperate supply of the
best Madeira, imported directly from that island by
the outward-bonnd West Indiamen, and enlivened by
sones and elees, the party broke up in the cool of the
evening, and returned in the strictest sobriety by the
silver light of the full-orbed moon to their respective
homes, pleased with each other, and with the amuse-
ment of which they had partaken.
One of the party, newly arrived from Europe, being:
forcibly impressed with the potency of the effect thus
produced upon the fish, and still more with the fact of
their wholesomeness being unimpaired by the manner
of their capture, was induced to make some experi-
ments with this bark for the purpose of determining the
nature of its active constituent, and its applicability to
the purposes of medicine; and after a number of ex-
periments, which it would be idle to detail, ascertained
that its active principle resided in a resin capable of
solution in rectified spirit—that the tincture so pre-
pared was powerfully anodyne, narcotic, and sudorific ;
and, taken internally to the extent of a drachm inea-
sure in a glass of water immediately on eettinge into
bed, it produced a sensation of warmth in the stomach,
oradually yet rapidly extending to the surface, followed
in a short time by a copious perspiration, and termi-
nating In the most profound and refreshing sleep he
ever experienced, . Hie employed a saturated tineture,
prepared by macerating one ounce of the recent bark of
the roots, gathered at the full moon im April, and coarsely
powdered, in about four ounces, by measure, of rectified
spirit, for about eight-and-forty hours, after which it was
strained ; the strained tincture was of the colour of good
Madeira, and on being poured into water, communicated
to ita milky appearance from the separation of the spirit
from the resin, which remained suspended in a state of
minute division in the mixture. The taste was by no
means disagreeable, and the effects were at once salu-
tary and surprising. ‘To obtain these effects, however,
in their full degree, the tineture ought to be made with
the best alcohol, from bark gathered during the period
of flowering, but before the appearance of the leaf;
= 3B 2
372
and, if possible to be obtained, newly prepared tincture
shonld be preferred to that whose efficacy has been im-
paired by keeping and by exposure to the light—both
of which occasion, as in the case of many other tinc-
tures, a separation of the resin from the medium which
held it in solution, and its precipitation on tlie sides
and bottqm of the vessel containing it. oar
In tooth-ache, arising from a hollow and decayed
tooth, this tincture, introduced on a dossil of lint into
the morbid cavity, produces instantaneous and perma-
nent relief. Upon the whole, both the medical and
commercial value of this interesting tree, which is to
be found in most of the islands in a wild state, and
mieht certainly be increased by cultivation, merits far-
ther and minute investigation.
NAPOLEON'S WARDROBE.
Tue following docunient is in many respects very re-
markable. It developes in a singular manner a variety
of characteristics of the extraordinary being whom it
concerned. Extravagance in some affairs, and a strict
regard to economy in others; the decision and proper
choice of the thrifty civilian, and the nnsparing prodi-
eality and lavishness of the ambitious conqueror, are
features strangely mixed up in the arrangement of Na-
poleon'’s wardrobe,
In the selection ‘of his costume, Napoleon frequently
paid respect to the infantry and the cavalry of his army;
in the first case by adopting the uniform of the grena-
dier, and in the next, that of the chasseurs a chéval.
But it is a remarkable fact, and one that must surprise
an attentive observer of the matter, that, having in any
instance acted thus, he never once exhibited a like dis-
position towards the most distinguished corps of the
French army, and that in which he began his career
aud founded his future faine—the artillery.
Napoleon attached great importance to orders and
decorations. He occasionally wore them profusely
himself, and he had their insignia at hand to bestow
them on others. He thus made it a rnle to have an
extraordinary supply always near him, and hence the
profusion mentioned in the list.
INVENTORY OF THE WARDROBE OF NAPOLEON.
Drawn up on the 20th August, 1811.*
1. Six prenadier uniforms; five chasseur on horseback ;
three for hunting; three for shooting; four, diverse ; six
great coats.
2. Seventy-four pairs of breeehes ; seventy-four white ker-
seymere waistcoats; twelve pantaloons, and twelve various
Waisteoats; four waistcoats of white prqué; one black
silk waistcoat; one waistcoat; and one pair of black
cashmere breeches.
3. Twelve morning gowns of ehintz; six others of molleton ;
twelve pantaloons; three waistcoats of walted taffety ;
thirty-six flannel waistcoats ; nine cashmere waisteoats ;
five silk dominos.
4. Nine dozen shirts; twelve dozen pocket-handkerchiefs ;
seven dozen white stocks; nineteen toilette napkins.
5. Ninety pairs of white silk stockings ; two pairs of black
silk stockings; three dozen merino socks; twelve Madras
handkerchiefs ; twelve black silk fronts.
6. Seventeen garnitures of orders or decorations peculiar to
France; sixteen of Italy, and twenty-one of Holland,
Spain, Russia, Austria, Prussia, Portugal, Sweden, Den-
mark, Bavaria, Saxony, Baden, Westphalia, Wurtemburg,
Hesse-Darmstadt, and Wirtzburgh. Besides these, thirty-
nine decorations not set or mounted.
7. Four swords; nine sabres; two swords for ceremony ;
two short hunting-swords. |
8. Twenty-four gold snuff-boxes; four boxes containing
medals; one box of tooth-picks with medallion; four gold
repeating- watches.
* 'Translated from the German.
THE PENNY
MAGAZINE. [SepremMBER 30,
ESTIMATE OF COST DRAWN UP BY THE DUKE OF
Friv tt, 20th August, 1812,
2 Grenadier uniforms, with epaulettes, &c., each . Frs,
eosting 360 francs ; : ‘ ° ° 720
2 Ditto ehasseur. : ° ° : , 720
2 Ditto for huhting ‘ , . ° ‘ 860
2 Grey great coats ° ; ‘ ° : 400
l Civilian coat e ry e ° ° ° 200
. (Each eoat or great coat was to last three years.)
48 Breeches and 48 waisteoats uf white eashmere,
which were to be supplied every week, and
should wear ¢hree years: 80 francs each - 3840
] Morning gown of “ piqué;” 1 of “ molleton ;”
3 pantaloons; . . . , , . 560
4 Hatsinayear . ‘ ‘ ° : 160
48 Flannel waistcoats, to last three years. em
4 Dozen shirts, to last s7x years : : ~ 2880
4 Do. pocket-handkerchiefs do. ; ‘ : 576
2 Do. stocks do. ' : ‘ 720
2 Do. toilette napkins do. , : : 200
24 Pairs silk stockings; 18 francs each : ; 432
24 Do. socks ; : : : 2 ; a,
12 Black fronts : ; ‘ - 7 ‘ 96
12 Madras pocket-handkerchiefs : : 144
24 Pairs of shoes (to last wo years) . A ; 312
6 Pairs of boots (the same) , : : , 600
Perfumery, for washing, &¢. , : . “Er. Voroo
For washing of hnens and silk. ° : - 1600
Total, exclusive of sundries, estimated at 800 frs. 19,132
Australia.—The effect which would be produeed upon
the industry and wealth of England by planting in Aus-
tralia the unemployed labourers of the United Kingdom,
is a subject worthy of all consideration. According to the
census of 1833, the population of New South Wales was
60,000; and it appears by the official returns, that the
exports and imports of the eolony, in the year ending the
31st of December, 1834, had reached to the extraordinary
amount of 1,579,000/., the imports from the United King-
dom being 681,800. But what would be the extent of
Australian eommerce, and what the amount of imports from
the United Kingdom, were the extended plan of colonization
which we have sketched carried into effect? Australia pos-
sesses a decided superiority over every other country co-
lonized by England, in the power of producing articles for
export, and therefore in the corresponding power of pur-
chasing articles of import. This fact is established by the
published accounts of the exports and imports of the several
eolonies. The soil and climate of Australia are so peculiarly
adapted to the production of eommodities in great demand
in other countries, and the results of the labour and capital
therein employed maintain in eonsequence so high a com-
parative value in foreign countries, that, in proportion to its
population, the colony of New South Wales has a commerce
four times greater than the Canadas, and three times greater
than the Cape eolony; while it opens, in proportion to its
population, a demand for British merchandise more exten-
sive by threefold than the Cape eolony, and by fourfold than
the Canadas and the Mauritius. From the operation of
similar causes, Van Diemen’s Land, in proportion to her
population, has a commerce five times greater than the Cape
colony, and six times greater than the Canadas; while, in
proportion to her population, she presents a market for
British exports more extensive by five times, and by seven
times, than the markets respeetively presented by the Cape
colony, and by the Canadas and Mauritius. These facts,
demonstrative of the superior eommercial capabilities of
Australia, justify the most sanguine expectations of the
extension of trade with our Austrahan settlements. In
the year ending the 5th of January, 1833, the exports and
imports of New South Wales amounted to 1,008,000/.; and
in the year ending the 31st of December, 1834, the exports
aud imports of this colony had increased to 1,579,0002. But
how much more rapid would be this augmentation were the
population to be increased by a system of emigration suf-
ficiently extensive to afford relief to Ireland, and what would
be the results of such an expanding commerce to the British
manufacturer, the British merchant, and the British ship-
owner ?—Jurst Report of Colonization Commissioners,
1837]
THE PENNY MAGAZINE,
873
NEW BROOMIELAW BRIDGE, GLASGOW.
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In describing the Exchange at Glasgow, allusion was
made to the great improvements which have been effected
of late years in that important mart of commerce. No-
where have those desirable changes been so remarkable
as about the harbour—the Broomielaw. ‘Twenty years
avo the Broomielaw was a limited exteut of quay, ranging
along the northern side of the Clyde, from the Broomie-
law, or Jamaica-street Bridge, downwards, to which
only vessels of a comparatively small amount of tonnage
came up; and but five or six years ago, the southern
side (corresponding to the Southwark side of the
Thames, below London Bridge) was an extent of green
sward, on which the inhabitants could walk or sit, con-
templating the ‘shipping’ on the opposite side. But
now the river is rendered wider and deeper at the
Broomielaw 5 the northern quay extends an immense
Jen@th along the bank; and onthe southern side, where
children might once safely gambol, and school-boys spent
their Saturday holidays in rolling about among the
grass, is now a handsome quay, with its sheds, and
cranes, and pulleys, and a stair, facing the old stair on
the northern side, immediately under the bridge, to
which the ‘herring boats” did and still do come; and
from whence, in earlier and simpler days, most respect-
able citizens might be seen trudging homewards of a
morning, bearing some choice and fresh-looking, and
hard-bargained-for herrings dangling from a string by
the gills; And they have taken down the old and
massive Broomielaw Bridge, with all its architectural
parnishings, and erected in its stead the handsome
structure represented above. Moreover, bnt the other
day they swept away a building, on whose conspicuous
ucliness the eye of the Glasgow citizen once rested as
securely and as fainiliarly as does that of the Londoner on
the dome of St. Paul’s when returning from a suburban
excursion. This was that ungainly composition of
brick and mortar, known by the rather odd sound of the
** Bottlewark Lum,” z.¢. chimney. A huge vomitory it
was, broad at the base, but tapering to the top: one |
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might have thought it was built not only for use, but
as a symbol—for it seemed a gigantic bottle of the
olden time. But the bottle-work and its “lum” are
eone; not one brick stands on another, to reveal its
site; and in its stead they are preparmg to erect a
handsome Custom-house and other public buildings.
The following paragraph from the ‘ Glasgow Courier’ of
September 7th describes what is now doing at the
Broomielaw :—
“ Harbour Improvements.—Jhese are proceeding on
the south side of the river very rapidly, and, judging
from present appearances, the whole line of new quay,
as far down as Springfield, will be ready for the recep-
tion of vessels in the course of next summer, Already
ships of large dimensions are moored as far down as
the bottom of West Street; and almost all the coal
craft now prefer the south side, as they get on board
their loading with much more facility and expeclition
than on the north. Paviors are busy making firm and
dry footing along the whole extent; a number of sheds
have been erected; lamps illuminate the whole line as
far down as the new ferry; and several houses fronting
the quay, formerly tenauted by private famlies, are
now occupied as taverns. If the weather continues fa-
vourable, the mason-work of the parapet wall will be
finished before Martinmas; but it will scarcely be prac-
ticable to clear away the interjacent mound of earth
between that and the foriner bed of ihe river in so short
a time, unless more hands are laid on. Next summer
we may expect to see many new buildings on the same
side; and when the whole shall be completed, what a
erand and unrivalled appearance will the Broomielaw
present, when contrasted with the harbours of Jieith,
Greenock, and Dundee! There will be nothing of the
kind in Scotland that can bear a comparison with it.”
. There were only three bridges over the Clyde at
Glasgow about seven years ago: now there are jour,
three of these being new, and the fourth has been so
altered as to be in effect new. A brief description of
874
these bridges is given in the account of Glasgow, in }
vol. iv. p. 382 of the ‘Penny Magazine. The pridge
represented above was erected in place of-a previous
one, which, at first sight, might have been deemed
worthy of a much longer term. It was built in 17685,
aud was reckoned the finest of the Glasgow bridges.
But it had a steep and inconvenient ascent; and this,
in a spirited and wealthy community, not disposed to
endure inconveniences that could be remedied, was the
cause of its being taken down. ‘The present bridge—
it is termed sometimes the New, and sometimes the
Jamaica Street, or the Broomielaw Bridge—was de-
signed by the late Mr. Telford. The first stone of the
structure was laid in July, 1833, and it was opened in
January, 1836. It is 560 feet long, has seven arches,
and is 60 feet wide over the parapets.
LUMBERING, OR THE MANNER OF CONVEY-
ING TIMBER TO MARKET.
[From a Correspondent.]
WiATEVER materially conduces towards the prosperity
of a nation or people can scarcely fail ti attract the no-
tice of distant and intelligent communities; but while
it is wholly impossible for them fully to comprehend the
nature and extent of certain occupations and employ-
ments without a practical acquaintance with them on
the spot where they are carried on, a short account of |
the mode of managing a business with which the com-
inerce of this country is closely connected, and wherein
is involved the well-being of no inconsiderable portion
of her colonial subjects, will hardly fail to be interesting
to the gweneral reader.
Luinbering is one of the chief sources of wealth and
prosperity in several of our North American colonies,
as it is also in a large portion of the United States ;
but it is not of its general importance in a commercial
sense that I shall treat, but rather endeavour to de-
nonstrate the mechanical process of ‘‘ lumbering.”
fn the first place it must be understood that “lumber”
is the general term applied to timber through all its
preparatory stages, from its growing in the woods mntil
it be put into the hands of the carpenter and joiner for
the purpose of being worked up; so that all the parties
respectively employed in cutting down the trees, con-
veying them to the saw-mills, sawing them up into
boards, planks, joists, &c., and afterwards forming them
into rafts, and rafting them down the creeks and rivers,
are all alike understood as being engaged in lumbering.
In the colonies of New Brunswick and Lower Canada
in particular, lumbering employs a large portion of the
labouring population, for besides the timber necessary
for the consumption of the colonies themselves, vast
quantities are exported to this country, employing a |
oreat number of vessels and a considerable body of
seamen. Although various sorts of timber, including
oak, ash, hickory, elm, maple, &c., are in request
amongst lumberers, yet pine-timber, in two or three
varieties, constitutes the great bulk of what is usually
denominated lumber; so that where the situation is
favourable for the erection of saw-mills, and for rafting
the lumber to some large town or sea-port, pine-land (as
that is called where pine-timber chiefly predominates) is
in much request; the quality of the soil being but a
secondary consideration compared with the suitableness
of the growing timber for the lumbering business.
Since lumbering has been going on for a great number.
of years, it will readily be conceived that much of the
most valuable timber contiguous to the streams and
rivers has long since disappeared ; so that at the
present day the persons employed in this business have
to procure it further in the interior of the country, and
“onseqnently at a much greater outlay of labour and
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
| perform the same when the ground is bare.
{SePpreMBER 30,
immense quantities of logs and beams of timber for
exportation, the chief part of that which is consumed in
the country and the neighbouring colonies is sawed
up into boards, planks, and scantlings, and afterwards
rafted down the streams and rivers.
Lumber may be cut down at any season of the year,
although it has been ascertained that all periods are not
equally conducive to its durability. ‘his, however, is
very little attended to by those engaged in lumbering ;
for during the summer season, and at such times as ~
the people are otherwise the least engaged, they usually
cut down the trees, divide them into proper lengths if
they be intended for the saw-mill, or hew and shape
them into balks and beams if they are to be exported
in that form. In general, no attempt is made to re-
|}move them until the winter, when the ground has
become thickly covered with snow; for under such
| circumstances a stout pair of oxen can drag a log to
the saw-mill with greater ease than two pair could
Forses
are but seldom employed in dragging timber in the
woods; but in their stead a great number of large and
valuable oxen are required in the districts where lum-
bering is much followed. Saw-mills are occasionally
erected upon large rivers; and across the channels of
moderate-sized streams dams are frequently erected,—
not so much for the purpose of raising a head of water
to propel the machinery of the mill, but as a barrier
for stopping the progress of such logs as may have
been intrusted to tlhe waters of the stream several miles
nearer to its source, which having been floated down
into these reservoirs are drawn ashore in the immediate
vicinity of the saw-mill. More generally, however,
these mills are built upon the smaller creeks and tribu-
tary streams, and as close as practicable to the lands
upon which the timber grows. Many of them have but
one saw in operation, others two or three,—while some
are upon a larger and more powerful scale, having
several “ gangs” of saws capable of slitting large logs
into eight or ten planks at a single operation. ‘The
smaller mills are, for the most part, erected in a rude
and rough manner; so that if bnt little labour be re-
quired in the construction of a dam and water-course,
the whole expense will not exceed 30/. or 40/. Jn the
eourse of a dozen years, a mill of this description com-
monly gets out of repair, and falls into a state of
complete decay ; bnt as the chief portion of the timber
has become exhausted by this time, instead of refitting
the old establishment, a new one is built in a more con-
venient situation for getting the timber drawn to it at
a trifling expense. A small saw-mill of this descrip-
tion, with a good supply of water, will cut during the
24 hours, with its single saw, from 3000 te 4000 feet
of boards, superficial measure, if it be well attended.
But to perform this it requires the attendance of two
individuals,—or if the mill be allowed to stand still
eight hours out of the twenty-four, then a single person
is all that is necessary; the large logs being so placed
that one man can roll them along the gangways to
the platform, and place them in a proper situation to
be acted upon by the powerful saw. During the winter
months, that is, while the mills are actively employed
in furnishing a supply of lumber for the market, the
rivers and streams are all frozen up; so that were it
ever so desirable to get the lumber to market at that
season, the severity of the frost renders such an attempt
quite impracticable.
It is therefore when the spring approaches,—when
the accumulated snows of winter rapidly dissolve,—the
ice having been broken up and swept away, that the
lumberer prepares to take to market the product of a
whole year's labour. Ifthe stream be sufficiently large
for him to navigate thereon a raft of considerable di-
expense. Although the lumberers raft to the sea-ports | mensions, the boards and planks are formed into rafts
1837.]
containing 200,000 or 300,000 feet; but if it be but a
small stream, he forms his lumber into a nnmber of
small rafts, which having navigated to where the small
stream falls into some larger one, or to where by nu-
merous tributaries it has attained the necessary capacity,
—the small rafts are then broken up in some convenient
situation, and reconstructed into larger ones suited to
the navigation of larger rivers. It is only during high
floods that many of the lesser streams can be navigated
at all by rafts; so that when the waters do not happen
to rise so hieh as usual, or subside more rapidly than
had been calculated upon, you will sometimes observe
along the channels of such streams numerous rafts
aground upon the egravel-beds, in which state they are
likely to remain (at great risk to the owners) until
some accidental freshet during the summer; or else
they have to be broken up and taken ashore, to prevent
them from being driven off with the breaking up of the
ice in the ensuing season. When any serious accidents
happen to the rafts, or the state of the water in the
streams prevents the lumber from reaching: its destina-
tion, the whole community shares in the general mis-
fortune. The owners of the mills and the timber look
forward to the sale of their lumber as the means of
enabling them to pay off the wages of those persons
they have employed in the various processes of cutting
down the timber, hauling it to the saw-mills, sawing it
into boards and planks, and the attempt made of raft-
ing it to market. During the greater part of the year
all those persons will have been obtaining goods upon
credit from the store-keepers, in the fullest confidence
of being able to pay their debts on the return of their
employer from market with the proceeds of his lumber;
so that the store-keeper having mainly depended upon
that portion of the proceeds of the lumber which he
had a right to suppose would come into his hands,
finds himself without the means of settling his old ac-
count with the city merchants from whom he had his
ooods; and his little stock being nearly exhausted, he
is unable to raise a new supply during the whole of the
ensuing season. .
Generally the rafts are put together very slightly ;
labour being at so high a rate, everything is performed
at the smallest possible outlay. It often happens that
limber is sent down the rivers a distance of 300 or 400
miles. It arrives at its destination sooner or later ac-
cording to the speed at which the river flows, since 110
attempts are made at increasing that speed beyond the
ordinary velocity of the current of the river. Some
individual who, from a lon@ acqnaintance with the
river, is supposed to be well acquainted with all the
intricacies of the navigation (if any such exist), takes
upon himself the supreme command, and is conse-
quently appointed pilot. Should the stream be in a
favourable state for raftine—neither swollen too high
nor subsided too far, and should there be few and but
trifling obstructions in the way, with the nights clear
and fine, in such cases these unsightly masses of tim-
ber continne on their course day and night; but when
the pilot is apprehensive of difficulties in the naviga-
tion, the common practice is to conduct the raft into
some cove or sheltered place during the darkest hours
of the night, securing it in the best manner-that cir-
cumstances permit. ‘The rafts, composed of boards and
planks, are never of a very wreat extent; for the boards
being sawed into lengths seldom exceeding twelve or
sixteen feet, it necessarily follows that if a raft were built
to a great length, there would be so many divisions in it
that it would be too weak to run the risk of encounter-
ing ihe various difficulties attending stream navigation.
No oars are used, if we except two lone and powerful
sweeps, fixed npon pivots, one at each end of the raft,
which are used rather as rndders than as oars; for the
construction being in the form of a long square, or ob-
THE PENNY MAGAZINE,
375
long, it matters little which end is kept in advance.
‘The men upon the raft are provided with poles, by the
use of which, and the aid of the two sweeps, the posi-
tion of the raft can-be changed almost at pleasure—
that is, it may be brought towards either shore, or else
kept in the swiftest part of the current.
On most of the American rivers the persons em-
ployed in rafting but rarely take the trouble to con-
struct themselves huts upon the rafts, or even anything
to shelter them from the storm and tempest. On the
St. Lawrence, however, the French Canadians, who are
generally engaged in this business, provide themselves
small cabins upon the larger rafts of squared timber
which are annnally sent down that river to Quebec for
shipment; for although the distance these rafts have to
be navigated is by no means so great as that on some
other rivers, yet, owing to the flux and reflux of the
tide in the St. Lawrence, and the heavy swell that a
portion of that river is subject to experience, the rafts
make slower progress, and are consequently longer on
their passage. When the rafts reach their destination
the lumber is sold, and the men are paid off; and,
having received a part, or the whole of a year’s earn-
ines, they set out on foot for the interior of the coun-
try. These long back journeys they consider the most
laborious part of the expedition; the distance they
have to travel, and a great part of it through a rugeed
country, is frequently 200 or 300 miles, the season of
the year being sometimes so far advanced that the wea-
ther has become uncomfortably warm. It has lone:
been remarked that raftmen are amongst the rudest of
the population of North America, and often have I been
obliged to witness their riotous and indecent deport-
ment. in my various travels I have occasionally found
it necessary to remain all night at country taverns,
which, on any occasion, afforded but poor accommoda-
tion; and when [ have encountered a party of raftmen
at one of these houses my prospects were truly mi-
serable. Smoking and drinking, and gambling and
rioting and blaspheming, are continued at intervals
throughout the night; for whatever may be the feel-
ings and wishes of the tavern-keeper, little are they
cared for by a party of dissolute and ungovernable
raftmen.
Sagacity of the Great Northern Bears.—On one oceasion,
a bear was seen to swim cantiously to a large rough piece of
ice, on which two female walruses were lying asleep with
their cubs. The wily animal crept up some hummocks
behind the party, and with his fore-feet loosened a large
block of ice: this, with the help of his nose and paws, he
rolled and carried until immediately over the heads of the
sleepers, when he let it fall on one of the old animals, which
was instantly killed. The other walrus with its cubs rolled
into the water; but the younger one of the stricken female
remained by its dam: on this helpless creature the bear
now leaped down, and thus completed the destruction of
two animals which it would not have ventured to attack
openly. * * * ‘The stratagems practised in taking the
large seal are not much less to be admired. These creatures
are remarkably timid, and for that reason always lie to bask
or sleep on the very edge of the pieces of floating ice, so
that on the slightest alarm they can by one roll tumble
themselves into their favourite element. They are ex-
tremely restless, constantly moving their head from side to
side, and sleeping by very short naps. As with all wild
creatures, they turn their attention to the direction of the
wind, as if expecting danger from that quarter. The bear,
on seeing his intended prey, gets quietly into the water,
and swims until he is leeward of him, from whence, by
frequent short dives, he silently makes his approaches, and
so arranges his distance, that at the last dive he comes up
to the spot. where the seal is lying. If the poor animal
attempts to escape by rolling into the water, he falls into
the bear's clutches; if, on the contrary, he hes still, his
destroyer makes a powerful spring, kills him on the ice, and
devours him at leisure.— King’s Narrative.
376 THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
CANUTE AND HIS COURTIERS.
WueEn at the height of his power, and when all things
seemed to bend to his lordly will (so goes the story),
Canute, diseusted one day with the extravagant flat-
teries of his courtiers, determined to read them a prac-
tical lesson. He caused his throne to be placed on the
verge of the sands on the sea-shore as the tide was
rolling in with its resistless might ; and, seating himself,
he addressed the ocean, and said,—‘* Ocean! the land
on which I sit is mine, and thou art a part of my do-
minion—therefore rise not—obey my commands, nor
presume to wet the edge of my robe.” He sate for
sume time as if expecting obedience, but the sea rolled
on in its immutable course; succeeding’ waves broke
nearer and nearer to his feet, till at length the skirts of
his garment and his legs were bathed by the waters.
Then, turniug to his courtiers and captains, Canute
said,—* Confess ye now how frivolous and vain is the
mieht of an earthly king compared to that Great Power
who rules the elements, and can say unto the ocean,
‘Thus far shalt thou go, and no farther.” The chro-
niclers conclude the apologue by adding, that he imme-
diately took off his crown, and depositing it in the
cathedral of Winchester, 1ever wore it again.
Under the title of ‘A Fact and an Imagination,’ this
story has been simply but gracefully told by Words-
worth, and applied to the inculcation of a lofty senti-
ment and a great moral lesson, in the following lines :—
‘The Danish Conqueror, on his royal chair,
Mustering a face of haughty sovereignty,
To aid a covert purpose, cried,—‘ O ye
Approaching waters of the deep, that share
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[SepremBer 30, 1637,
With this green isle my fortunes, come not where
Your Master's throne is set! ”’—Absurd decree ! |
A mandate utter’d to the foaming sea
Is to its motion less than wanton air,
——-Then Canute, rising from the invaded throne,
Said to his servile courtiers, § Poor the reach,
The undisguised extent, of mortal sway !
He only is a king, and he alone
Deserves the name, (this truth the billows preach)
Whose everlasting laws, sea, earth, and heaven obey.’
This just reproof the prosperous Dane
Drew, from the influx of the main,
For some whose rugged northern mouths would strain
At oriental flattery ;
And Canute (truth more worthy to be kuown)
From that time forth did for his brows disown
The ostentatious symbol of a crown ;
Esteeming earthly royalty
Contemptible and vain.
“ Now hear what one of elder days,
Rich theme of England’s fondest praise,
Her darling Alfred mzght have spoken ;
To cheer the remnant of his host
When he was driven from coast to coast,
Distressed and harassed, but with mind unbroken
‘ My faithful followers, lo! the tide is spent,
That rose, and steadily advanced to fill
The shores and channels, working Nature’s wiil
Among the mazy streams that backward went,
And in the sluggish pools where ships are pent.
And now, its task perform’d, the flood stands still
At the green base of many an inland hill,
In placid beauty and sublime content!
Such the repose that Sage and Hero find ;
Such measured rest the sedulous and good
Of humbler name; whose souls do, like the flood
Of Ocean, press right on; or gently wind,
Neither to be diverted nor withstood,
Until they reach the bounds by Heaven assien‘d. ”
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*,* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at 59, Lincoln’s Inn Fields,
ONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT & CO., 22, LUDGATE STREET
Printed by Wiiuram Crowes and Sons, Stamford Stre ¥
Mowthip Supplement of
THE PENNY MAGAZ
OF THE
Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge.
303.)
August 31 to September 30, 18337.
THE CHANNEL ISLANDS.—No. II.
GUERNSEY, AND THE OTHER ISLANDS.
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Castle t Cornet, St. Peter's Port.]
Guernsey and Jersey, thoneh only about fifteen miles
apart, have some noticeable differences between them.
Their history and their privileges are much the same;
they have been under the infinence of similar circum-
stances, and have been governed by similar laws; the
levislative bodies of the two islands differ not very ma-
terially in their constitution, and even in the manners
of the peuple there is a family resemblance. Still a
description of Guernsey will be far from being a repe-
tition of that of Jersey. The physical aspect of the
two islands differs very considerably, and this, with a
considerable difference in the dialects,—the smaller
number of strangers who frequent Guernsey,—the
different directions which the acquisition and spending
of money have taken, have produced modifications in
the manners and habits, that, without altering their
generic character, have made them not unworthy of
observation.
As to the physical aspect and position of the islands—
Guernsey lies north-west of Jersey, and is, consequently,
nearer England. Jersey, it may be remembered, shelves
from north to south, the northern coast being lofty,
rocky, and precipitous, and the southern, though f ringed
with rocks, lying low. Guernsey, on the contrary,
slopes from south to north, the southern coast being
bounded by high cliffs, which also extend along part of
the eastern coast ; and the remainder of the eastern
and the northern sides, consisting of a series of flat bays,
Vot. VI.
is divided by interposed ridges of hieh rock. This dif
ference in the natural inclination of the land in the two
islands has made a considerable difference in their ap:
pearance, productiveness, and natural beauty.
Falle, in his history of Jersey, in describing the posi-
tion of the two islands, introduces two diagrams, in
each of which is a jolly, round, laughing face, intended
for the sun, surrounded by an ample nimobus, or glory,
and breathing down a supply of rays onan inclined
plane or wedge resting on the surface of the sea. He
then, speaking of Jersey, says, “‘ By this declivity of the
land from north to south, the beams of the sun fall
more directly and perpendicularly thereon, than if either
the surface was level, and parallel to the sea, or, which
is worse, declined from south to north, as it doth in
Guernezey; for there, by an odd opposition to Jersey,
the land is high on the south and low on the north,
which causes, if I may so speak, a double obliquity—
the one from the position of -the sun itself, especially in
time of the winter solstice, the other from the situation
of the land; and is probably the reason of the great
difference observed in the qualities of soil and air in
both islands.”’
Now Berry, in a tolerably large sized quarto on
Guernsey, (London, 1815,) wherein the origin of the
inhabitants and the early history of the islands are
illustrated by Arabic, Hebrew, Greek, and Latin, is at
times rather angry with Falle, for his depreciatory
3a C
375
notices of Guernsey. He defends the character of the
island not only against Falle, but against Camden,
Hieylin, and others; and says, “Phe peasants are re-
markably industrious [which is, indeed, very true]; they
take more pains in cultivating their Jands than m any
of the neighbouring countries; and thie fertility of the
soil rewards their labour to an astonishing degree.”
After noticing some contradictory statements, he says
that “the people of Guernsey, like the rest of the world °
in @eneral, have made considerab'e improvement, espe--
cially in agriculture; it was in vain to attempt to vie
with Britain in manufactures 3 commerce opened a wide
field for exertion, and necessity dictated a proper atten-
tion to husbandry, and their exertions have not only
been crowned with success, but are justly entitled to
every praise and commendation.” In another part of
his work he thus launches out into encomium on his
island :—
“The rural scenery of Guernsey, though destitute
in some measure of both wood and water (meandering
streams), two essential requisites to constitute the finished
landscape, might almost vie with that of the Isle of
Wieht, which, for beauty, has long been celebrated as
the garden of England. Some of the bays are grand
and romantic ; particularly those of Petit-Bo and Mou-
Jin- uit, and the village of the King’s Mills, enbosomed
in hills, (excepting on the west, which opens to the sea) |
with the deep valley leading from it to St. Andrew’s
Church, are perhaps the most pieturesque and enchant- |
ing, though the scenery about St. Martin’s is inuch to
be admiréd, 3 Saar
the country is clad in the richest vesture; primroses,
violets, and blue-beHs eover the verdant banks; and |
the apple blossom of the numerous orchards, which
have the fancifill appearance of small blooming coppices,
and in part supply the want of wood scenery, are beau-
tiful beyond description; even the little rills, though
not seen meandering through the meadows, neverthe-
less add to the beanty of the landscape, by turning the
overshot wheels of several mills in deep valleys, which
have a pretty effect; in short, such a profusion of
flowers of all sorts unfold their varied hues, and fruit
and veretation in general are so plentiful and luxuriant,
that Flora and Pomona seein to vie with each other in
lavish distribution on this their favoured isle.” |
The reader is aware that a feeling of local egotism is
avery natural result of a smal] community being con-
fined and insulated. He will not, therefore, be sur-
prised to learn that, though Jersey and Guernsey stand
like brothers by each other when there is a common
danger to be avoided, or acommon interest to be secured,
still between the natives of the two islands there is a con-
siderable feeling of local jealousy. The Jersey people
laugh at the idea of Guernsey being the “ favoured isle”
of “Flora and Pomona,” and say that the description
was intended for their island. Certainly, after the eye
has been accustomed to the profuse luxuriance of Jer-
sey, Guernsey appears bare and comparatively destitute
of beauty. Mr. Inglis, a more impartial observer than
Mr. Berry, thus mediates between the two islands :—
‘“'Taste and money have produced greater results
here than in Jersey; and this is true, not only in
speaking of the immediate environs of St. Peter's Port,
but of the island generally. Houses, of a very superior
description are met with in every excursion through
the island; and these are very generally surrounded by
orounds of some considerable extent, well laid out, and
in the very best order. But the lover of :vatural scenery
will be less gratified in Guernsey than in Jersey: he will
miss the extensive orchards; the arcades of branches,
beneath which, in Jersey, ne may drive for miles, and
walk for a lone summer’s day ; he will miss the wooded
bays and coves; the shady hollows, and the deep wind-
ing valleys, with their wood-clothed slopes and their
MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF
In Spring, the whole face of:
[SepremBER 30,
fine brimful rivulets. For the absence of these, indeed,
there are many indemnifications; there are more open
views, a freer circulation of air, and a greater abundance
of handsome country seats. It must not be supposed,
however, from what I have said, that Guernsey is des-
titute of timber, and without natural beauty. When I
say that the scenery and aspect of Guernsey are English,
I pay the island no indifferent compliment. In most
parts of the island there.is a fair sprinkling of wood—
in some parts abundance. Wherever we find a gentle-
man’s seat, the absence of shade can never be com-
plained of; and in the comparative scarcity of wood
cenevally, there is more variety of scenery, for the grass
and corn fields of Jersey are often hidden by the wood
1 which intervenes.” *
The island of Gnernsey, Dr. M’Culloch tells us, is
almost entirely of eranitic formation. Its shape ap-
proaches the triangular, broad at the south end, and
tapering to the north. Its breadth, at the south end,
is about seven miles; at the north end from one to
two; and in the centre of the island about three. Its
extreme length, from the north-east to the south-west,
is about nine miles; the average length about six.
The circumference, taking the sinuosities of the bays,
is nearly forty miles. The superficies of the island con-
tains 15,559 acres; of which, however, a considerable
portion is waste, or meadow, recently reclaimed from
the sea. ‘The population of the island in 1831 was
24,349; of which 13,593 were in the town and parish
of St. Peter’s Port. :
Nearly in the centre of the east side of the island is
a long curve, or irregular bay, in which lies the town
of St. Peter's Port. As St. Helier’s, in Jersey, has its
rock in the harbour, with Elizabeth Castle,so St. Peter's
Port has its ruck, with Castle Cornet. Both, formerly,
were the residences of the respective governors of the
islands. Castle Cornet, like Mont Orgueil, is a very
ancient fortification. As its story of siege and defence
may not be so interesting as the account of an accident
which befel it, we may pass by the one, and give the
other, as eircumstantially detailed by Berry :—
‘“' The dreadful catastrophe by fire happened on the
29th December, 1672, by the hghtning communicating’
with the magazine, which blew up with a terrible ex-
plosion, carrying with it most of the houses and lodgings
of the castle, and in particular some new and handsome
buildings, then lately erected ‘at considerable expense
by the governor, Lord Viscount Hatton, who (together
with his family and some other persons) was lodged at
the time in a part of the castle thrown down by the
shock, and buried in the rnins. It appears that the
dowager Lady Hatton, who was in the upper part of
the castle, called the New Buildings, was killed by the
falling in of the ceiling of her apartment. Lady Hatton,
the wife of the governor, and daughter of the Earl of
Thanet, being greatly terrified at the thunder and
lightning, had fled to her children in the nursery, and
was likewise destroyed, with her waiting-woman and
the nurse: the latter of whom was found dead, with
his lordship’s second daughter in her arms unhurt ;
though it is related that the child neld in her hands a
sinall silver cup, her usual plaything, which was much
battered and brnised. ‘The youngest child, who lay in
a cradle alinost filled with rubbish, was likewise saved
without the least injury. But besides those mentioned,
several other persons lost their lives. A marvellous
story is related of his lordship’s preservation, who, it is
stated, was fast asleep at the time; and by the explosion
was carried away in his bed, unhnrt, to the battlement
of a wall, washed by the sea, between rugged precipices ;
and, what is still more extraordinary, [it 7s very extra-
ordinary, if true,] it is averred to be a fact, that his —
lordship did not awake till a shower of hailstones that
_.™ Inglis’s ‘ Channel Islands,’ vol, 1. pp. 42, 43.
~
1837]
fell on his face roused him from his sound repose. He
was then conveyed by two black servants to the guard-
room of the castle, in a state of anxiety for the safety
of his family more easily conceived than described; but
their melancholy fate could not be ascertained till day-
light. A lieutenant of a company of foot, whose apart-
ment was under that of his lordship, was forced by the
shock into an entry beneath, and escaped unhurt. Lord
Hatton’s two sisters, an ensign belonging to his lord-
ship’s company, and his wife, with several other persons
occupying apartments in the upper buildings of the
castle, were also providentially saved. A large beam,
it is said, fell between Lord Hatton’s two sisters, who
were before together, and completely separated them ;
from which perilous situation they were rescued, with
little hurt, through a hole obliged to be cnt in a party
wall for the purpose. None of the others were seriously
injured, though their rooms fell in, and they were nearly
buried in their beds with the rubbish.”
Castle Cornet is a very striking object in approach-
ing St. Peter’s Port. Inglis does not think it “ so pic-
turesque an object as Elizabeth Castle, because it is
not, like the latter, flanked by other rocks than that |
upon which it is built; and the folly of white-washing
part of it has greatly injured its naturally venerable
appearance. It is difficult to, distingnish between Kli-
zabeth Castle and the reek upoa which it is built, but
the renovators of Castle Cornet have taken care to
make the line distinct enough.” The castle is at pre-
sent in a tolerable state of repair, mounts some cannon,
and is garrisoned by a few soldiers. “fhere are some
good houses within it, though, as might be expected, it |
of the cottages of Guernsey as compared with those of
Jersey.
‘people of Guernsey have for flowers.
‘niums may be seen trailed up the front of many of the
cottages, and amongst the other flowers cultivated, we
must not forget the far-famed Guernsey lily, the pride
of the island, and the favourite of every gardener, and
every cottager who has a bit of garden ground.
Guernsey lily belongs to the amarylidem, or narcissus
tribe of plants; and isa native of Japan.
to. have been introduced into Guernsey by accident.
vessel, having some roots on board, was wrecked off the
island; and these, being washed on shore, grew up on
‘the beachs and the Hon. Mr. Hatton, son of Lord
‘Hatton, the then governor, being charmed by the
beauty of the flower, set abont its cultivation, and
naturalized it.
is not a strong fortification, in the modern acceptation
of the phrase.
The town of St. Peter’s Port looks remarkably well
from the water, and in this respect completely eclipses
St. Helier’s in Jersey. It is built on the slope of an
eminence, the houses overtopping each other; and on
approaching after sunset, the various lights from the
windows and the public lamps give it really a brilliant
appearance. But, says Mr Inglis, “* Like many more
important places than St. Peter’s Port, these appear-
ances are deceptive; and all the apparent attractions
of the town disappear when one steps on shore. I
shonld say, that the first impressions of St. Peter's Port
are decidedly unfavourable. We perambulate narrow,
steep, and crooked streets, flanked by substantial, in-
deed, but old-looking dusky houses; and walk as long
as we may we reacli no open space, where we may stop
and look about us.
only, not of the environs, which are delightfully sitn-
ated. The advantage which St. Helier possesses over
St. Peter's Port is this, that the houses of the gentry
are thrown into rows and streets, and form a part of
the town; whereas, the better houses in Guernsey are
not witliin the town, but are detached residences: and
herein consist the great beanty of the environs of St.
Peter's Port, which just as far exceed the expectations
of the traveller as the town falls below them.”
The “lions” of St. Peter’s Port are, its handsome
fish-market, its hospital or refuge for the destitute, and
Elizabeth College. To these we may add the parish
church. The fish-market is quite a creditable thing to
so small a town and so small an island. So also is the
hospital or workhouse, for the excellent management
and support of which the people of Guernsey deserve
great praise. Elizabeth College is a fine building; it
stands on an elevation behind the town, with a spa-
cious area around it, ornamentally laid out.
Elizabeth College was founded under letters patent
of Queen Elizabeth, who endowed it. She intended it
as a school for the education of all native-born inha-
bitants; yet, strange to say, this admirable opportunity
for all the people of Guernsey to acquire an excellent
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
mix with those whom they consider as inferior.
upper classes are much praised by Inglis for their taste,
comparative largeness of view, and kindliness of heart.
I speak at present of the town : :
‘Into two classes—the middle and the labouring, or
rather, the tradespeople in the town, and the country
319
education has hitherto been quite neglected, and its
advantages lost, not from the mismanagement of the
administrators, but from the indifference of <he people.
The mastership of the school was quite a sinecure; but
in 1824 the States of Guernsey took the matter up, and
turned the school into a college. They provided it
with excellent masters, and offered an extensive course
of education for a small college fee.
cludes Hebrew, Greek, Latin, divinity, history, eco-
graphy, French and English literature, mathematics,
The course in-
and arithmetic, for 12/. per annnm; to which, for a
small additional sum, may be added drawing and sur-
| veying; the Spanish, Italian, and German languages ;
music, fencing, aud drilling. Still, though the college
Is nnder such direction as to ensure an effective educa-
‘tion within tt, 1 1s not successful.
Mr. Inglis admits
that the college has but a moderate share of popularity,
but then he speaks hopefully about it; thinks that ‘Sat
no distant period Elizabeth Collere must overcome
opposition in Guernsey, and be universally acknow
.Jedged to be, what it certainly is, an institution admi-
crably fitted for the wants of the age.”
One cause of the comparative failure of Elizabeth
Collewe is said to be a reluctance on the part of the
better classes in. Guernsey to allow their children to
The
It is to be hoped that the causes of exclusiveness will
be removed by the increasing intelligence of the bulk
of the people.
The visitor will be struck with the superior neatness
He will also remark the passion which the
Splendid eera-
‘Lhe
It is said
A
The bulk of the people of Guernsey may be divided
people. ‘Che country people are hard-working and
abstemious. But they are imbibing new notions faster
than those of Jersey, which is attributed to the influence
and example of the upper class. The Jersey country-
‘man is influenced more by acquisitiveness than necessity
in his adherence to a meagre diet: but though “soupe
ala graisse,’ a.mess of cabbage, lard, and potatoes, has
long been a staple article of food in both islands, the
Guernsey man, while perhaps less able to afford if, is
beginning more frequently to indulge himself with
meat, and foreign luxuries. Still, from the small pro-
prietor, with his cow and his few pigs, to the cottager
who joins to the trade of carpenter or mason perhaps
those of fisherman and labourer, all are earnestly
striving, like their neighbours of Jersey, to save a little
money.
Guernsey has its new military roads, as in Jersey ;
and, as in Jersey, their formation was opposed very
warmly. Berry has preserved a speech of Major-
General Doyle, the then spirited Lieutenant-Governor
of Guernsey, delivered at St. Peter's Church, to a public
meeting of the inhabitants, on the subject of the making
3C 2
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of these roads. It is very amusing.
eather from it that the worthy General knew the weak
points of those he was addressing, and that he did not
aim at carrying the question by storm. His speech is
full of coaxing and cajolery, with a sprinkling of dry
humour; now he magnifies Guernsey, and now he
praises the public spirit and taste of its people. The
roads were made, and excellent roads they are: but
their quality did not diminish, for a time at least, the
antipathy of the country people.
The difference between the constitution of the legis-
lative bodies of Guerusey and Jersey consists chiefly
in the circumstance, that in Jersey the jurats, as they
are termed, are elected by the body of the people, but
in Guernsey by a body called the states of election.
The election of the judwes by the bulk of the people in
Jersey has not produced good results. <A judge is fre-
quently elected, not from his knowledge of law, or from
a knowledge that he will administer justice with a firm
and impartial hand, but because he is supported by the
greatest number of partizans, and is, of course, himself*
u violent one The country people of Jersey are very
litigious ; they will go to law almost for a potato—a
countryman would hardly think he had done his duty
iu this world unless in his lifetime he had been engaged
in at least one lawsuit. But there is far less of a party
and a litigious spirit in Guernsey. oe
The states of Guernsey, in their legislative capacity,
are composed of the bailiff, named by the Crown; the
rectors and constables of each parish; and the jurats.
‘Phe states of election, which elect the jurats, are com-
posed of the legislative body, with certain additions to
its nuinber, namely, two, instead of one, constable, from
each parish, and the douzeniers, twelve from each
parish, as their name implies, who are elected by the
rate-payers. ‘The states of election meet only for the
purpose of electing the judges or jurats of the Royal
Court. The jury is unknown in Guernsey. All judicial
power is vested in the bailiff and the jurats; asin Jersey,
there is a right of appeal from the Royal Court to the
Privy Council.
_ The trade of Guernsey is not large—much inferior
o that of Jersey. <A good deal of smuggling used to
One may easily | be carried on, before the introduction of the bonding
system into England, aud money was made by it; but
since that was done away with, there have been few
efforts to turn activity and capital into more legitimate
channels. ‘The land is all occupied by the proprietors ;
there are therefore no farms in the island. The size of
the estates vary from five and six acres, to twenty, thirty,
and forty; there are a few of fifty or sixty, but none
larger than seventy. Mr. Brock, the present bailiff of
Guernsey, in his evidence before the Committee of the
House of Commons on the Corn Trade of the Channel
Islands, (June, 1835) says that the cultivation of wheat
has been diminishing of late in Guernsey. Cows, fruit,
and potatoes, constitute the chief exportation. But
there is a considerable trade in foreign corn. The
bailiff is asked, ‘‘Is the privilege of importing wheat
from Guernsey into this country one to which great
value is attached in the island?” He replies, ‘* Yes;
the value attached {to it is in being connected with other
produce. ‘The present growth of corn is so trifling in
Guernsey that the privilege may not be of very parti-
cular importance at this time: but times may change;
and that being part of the privileges we have, if it was
not respected, we should naturally apprehend that simi:
lar inroads would be made upon every other article.”
in taking up a Jersey or a Guernsey paper, such an
advertisement as the following will frequently meet the
eye :—‘* A vendre, la somme de 25 quartiers de froient
de rente assignable, bien garantie; a recevoir sur un
héritage de campagne.—To sell, 25 quarters of trans-
ferable wheat rent, well secured, receivable from a
country estate.” The following is Mr. Inglis’s expla-
nation :—‘ A man who is in want of money, charges
his property with the payment for ever, of any number
of quarters of wheat; and these quarters, are transfer-
able in the market, and divisible, z.e.: If A lends Ba
sum of money, equal to twenty quarters annual charge,
—A may transfer these to C, D, E, and F, five quarters
to each; and each of these again, may transfer his
claim to five different individuals: so that quarters are
a floating heritable property, and are readily bought by
any one who happens to have a little spare money.”
The states of Guernsey have lately had the harbour
1837]
of St. Peter's Port surveyed by Mr. Walker, tlie engi-
neer, for the purpose of ascertaining the practicability
and expense of enlarging it, or making a new one.
Whether or not anything will be done is uncertain.
A great number of vessels take shelter in the roads
during gales. :
Guernsey is easily examined. ‘The north end of the
island is narrow, bare, and ugly, a large portion of it
having only been reclaimed from the sea a few years
ago, through the exertions of the same worthy governor
who accomplished the making of the roads. It had
previously been a marsh; and when the tide was full,
the northern end of the island was completely cut off
from the rest of it, and could only be approached by a
bridge or causeway. ‘The water was shut out by an
embankment; the land was sold, and is now inclosed ;
and the purchase money was applied, on the intercession
of the governor to the crown, to the making of the
new roads. ‘The southern and south-western sides of
Guernsey contain whatever of natural scenery is worth
seeing. The environs of St. Peter’s Port have been
already mentioned. ‘There is a fine field in the neigh-
bourhood of the town, called the New Ground, which
is surrounded with double rows of trees, and was in-
tended as a promenade for the inhabitants, though the
inhabitants do not choose to promenade there, but,
like their neighbours of Jersey, prefer the pier. I*rom
this ground there is a fine marine view—as there is to
be obtained all round the town—which includes in it
the islands of Herm, Jethou, and Serk.
The orthography of the name of the latter island
seeins not to be quite settled—it is called Sark, and
Serk, or Sercq. It is decidedly the most interesting of
the whole group of the Channel Islands. It lies about
six or seven miles from St. Peter’s Port ; and appears,
at a little distance, to be an elevated table-land, pre-
senting on all sides frowning walls of rock. On the
side next to Guernsey there is no mode of access but
by slinging one’s self by ropes up the rock; or, if the
boatmen can be persuaded to go round the island, there
is a scanty slip of beach, with a door and a tunnel in
the rock, through which the visiter finds entrance. In
this harbonr there is a beautiful little fountain of the
clearest and coolest water, continually trickling down
tlle rock, which is received in a natural basin, from
which the fishermen fill their casks. The harbour is
exactly what ane might fancy to be a pirates den—and
indeed, during a portion of the fourteenth century,
Serk was a pirate’s nest, but that was before the tunnel
wis made. ‘The tunnel, which is not unlike the en-
trance to a bee-hive, escapes notice at first; and the |
visiter feels that though landed in the harbour of Serk,
he is still outside of the island. But after getting
throueh this tunnel, instead of finding the island to be
a flat, elevated country, it is found to be “ covered with
luxuriant crops—is diversified with wood—is intersected
by roads—is broken into romantic valleys—is spotted
with substantial farm-houses—and maintains in com-
fort and independence a hardy and industrious popu-
lation of between 500 and 600.”
The following is Dr. M‘Culloch’s description of Serk :
“ The little island of Sercq lies six miles to the east of
Guernsey, and is rather more than three miles in length.
Its extreme breadth is not more than a mile and a half,
aud its average breadth not quite a nile. In one part
it is not many yards wide, being nearly divided ito
two portions, connected only by a hieh and narrow
ridge. A small island, Isle des Marchands, lies on
the west side of it. ‘This little islet, which is also called
Brechnou, was a rabbit warren, but is now inclosed,
and one or iwo families live on it; and sundry detached
rocks surround it on other sides. Though of such
small dimensions, it is more interesting to a minera-
THE PENNY MAGAZINE
381
logist than the other islands, not only from the greater
variety of its rocks, but from the more perfect exposure
of its formation that is afforded by the abrupt cliffs
which bound it on all parts. Unlike Guernsey or
Alderney it is a table-land, hawine no declivity to the
sea ut any part, except a small descent at its northern
extremity. ‘I'he cliffs by which it is bounded are from
100 to 200 feet high. Except the Isle des Marchands
which I mentioned, the western shore is so abrupt, that
large ships may range it very near without hazard.
The eastern shore is less clear, and is beset with ridges
of rocks running far out into the sea. The bottom is
rocky. ‘The eastern side of the island is also pretty
uniformly about one-third lower than the western, or
it has a tendency to rise towards the west. Ina general
view the western side is of a trap and schistose for-
mation, and the eastern of a granitic. It is intersected
by veins of greater maguitude and a more decided
character than Guernsey, Alderney, or Jersey. ‘The
surface of the island, though high, is everywhere inter-
sected by deep valleys, conducing much to its picturesque
appearance, and coutributing to its fertility; in which,
on a comparison with Alderney, it very much excels.
It is well watered, and produces trees of tolerable growth
—a circumstance denied to the former.
‘** Although there are five Janding-places about the
island, there is no harbonr where ships can lie, and but
one beach where small boats can be wintered. Such is
the natnre of the cliffs, that except at the Creux, where
2 tunnel is cut through the rock, there is hardly any
entrance to the land but by climbing. It is a very
strong natural fortification, and might at a sinall ex-
peuse be rendered impreenable.
# * * * x
The peninsula of Little Sereq is connected with
the main island by the high narrow ridge before meu-
tioned. ‘This is about 300 yards in length, and las a
precipitous face to the sea on the eastern side; to the
west it is also partly rocky and precipitous, aid the
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remainder is a steep declivity of broken rocks and rub-
bish. It is called the Coupée, and on the top of it is a
rugged path-of frightful appearance, being in many
352
places not above a yard or two in breadth, and in most
without boundary on either hand. By this, the com-
munication between the two parts of the island is kept
up. # * 4 * *
“On the eastern side is the port of the Creux. ‘This
is a dry beach, in a cove formed by high cliffs of argil-
laceous rock, of which the faces are absolutely perpen-
dicular in most parts, and as smooth as.a wall. Being
inaccessible from the land, and at the same time the
only secure beach on the island, a communication was
formed in 1588 by De Carterets, who excavated a
tunnel through the rock, taking advantage of a loose
vein which traverses it. This passage is occupied by a
vate, and thus the chief landing-place is rendered de-
fensible by a very small force. The whole is strikingly
picturesque and singular. Bridges of detached rocks
stretch out to sea from this poiut, which, from the pe-
culiar form of their outline, appear to be granite *.”
The Coupée deserves a more particular mention,—as
it, and the rocks and precipices in its neighbourhood, are
much visited by strangers. ‘The wood-cut represents a
favonrite “‘ pic-nic” spot; it is covered with erass to the
summit. Serk may be described as an Island having a
body and head, joined by a narrow neck. The body is
Great Serk, being the chief portion of the island, the
head is Little Serk, and the neck is the Coupee. ‘This,
therefore, is a chief wonder of the remarkable island of
Serk. The neck or isthmus is about 4 or 5 feet broad,
with precipices on either side of about 300 feet down to
the sea. On the one side the descent 1s perpendicular,
on the other precipitous; but though Mr. Inelis says that
a person would be more rash than bold tm attempting a
descent, with a little careful dexterity one can scramble
up and down. The bridge or neck of rock 1s, of course,
dangerous in windy weather, there being no fence or
protection on either side. Mr. Inelis tells a droll story
about an inhabitant of Little Serk, who was a frequent
visiter of Great Serk, and often prolonged his visit at
the public-house. But being cautious in his cups, he
always made an experiment with himself before he
ventured across the narrow bridge. A piece of artil-
lery had been posted near the spot during the war, and
the tippler would try himself by walking on the cannon
from end to end two or three times. If he accom-
plished this without slipping, he judged himself steady
enough to cross to Little Serk; but if otherwise, then
he lay down in the heath and indulged himself with a
nap. On awakiug he renewed the experiment, and if
then steady enough he jogged homewards.
The people of Serk—excepting a few shopkeepers
and tradesmen—are at once farmers and fishermen.
They build their own boats, and, in general, bestow
more of their time on the sea than on the tilling of
the soil. ‘There are two or three houses in the island
where the stranger can obtain. accommodation, par-
ticularly one very good honse, kept by an. old pensioner,
familiarly known as Old Joe.
Serk, with Alderney, and the smaller islets, forms
part of the bailiwick of Guernsey. But Serk is a little
kingdom in itself. It has an island legislature of its
own, and its own civil functionaries; and the Lord of
Serk, M. Le Pelley, who has a good honse in the
island, and is a constant resident, is at once its proprie-
tor and its patriarchal chief. The island had, as already
intimated, been occupied by some pirates; and after-
wards by some F'venchmen ; but for a. considerable pe-
riod previous to 1565, is believed to have beet uninha-
bited. It was granted by Elizabeth, under patent, to De
Carteret, Lord of St. Ouen’s in Jersey, who colonized it.
It is still held under the same patent, brit not iu the
saine family. The Lord of Serk commands the island
militia, which musters 100.strong ; appoints the clergy-
ke 3)
* ¢ Transactions of the Geological Society,’ vol. 1,
MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF
| tion has increased.
[SepremBex. 30,
man, who has a neat little church; and he also appoints
the seneschal, who has the cognizance of civil cases,
and from whose court an appeal lies to the royal court
of Guernsey; the provost, whose business it is to plead
the king’s causes, to regulate weights aud measures,
and to arrest for debt; and the registrar, who has the
custody of the records of the island. There are forty
chief tenants in Serk, who possess in copyhold, and by
a peculiar regulation there never can be any more.
These copyholds can never be cut up; if sold, they
must be sold entire, and a thirteenth portion of the
purchase money goes to the Lord of Serk. ‘Fhese forty
copyhold tenants form the island parliament, which
meets three times a year, and is presided over by the
seneschal. This parliament appoints the police force of
the island, which consists of two individuals. There is
a waol, but some little time ago its doors were standing
open, and no inmate had been lodged tn it since it was
built. The Lord of Serk has a veto on the proceedings
of the assembly.
A portion of Serk is not granted in copyhold; and
npon that land houses have been erected, and popula-
But it is an understood thing that
the younger sons of Serk families must go abroad to
earn a subsistence, or to seek a fortune. Many of them
return, after a long absence, to live upon their savings,
or to practise some acquired handicraft.
Altogether, Serk is a very remarkable place, with its
caverns, its steep and many-coloured rocks, its fruitful
and romantic valleys and dells, its ‘* creux terrible,” a |
pit in the rock, into which the sea enters by a cavern
below, and “ from whose darkness and profundity one
instinctively draws back ;’ not omitting the Conpeée,
and Little Serk, with the ladder of ropes on one side
of the island, and the harbour and its doorway and
tunnel on the other. Add to these its recently-opened
mines, from. which copper and silver have been obtained
in small quantities. No wonder Mr. Inglis exclaims,
“What a retreat would Serk be to the professional or
the literary man from the din of the metropolis! What
a contrast between the crowd and bustle and noise of
Fleet Street, and the repose and free air of Serk, with
its deep still dells and flowery knolls, and quiet bays
and monotonous sounds.” Yet in speaking of the
healthiness and longevity of the inhabitants, he dryly
puts this question,—*‘ Are ten years added to one’s life
an equivalent for a life spent in Serk ?”
Herm and Jethon need not detain us long. They
are islets lying off the east side of Guernsey, about
midway between it and Serk. Herm has granite quar-
ries, the working of which gives employment to a
number of individuals, and has increased its population
to about 200; its shores are celebrated for the great
variety and beauty of the shells to be picked up on
them, though this reputation is more of a past than a
present kind. From the nature of the rocky shores of
Serk, there is scarcely any vraic, or sea-weed, to be ob-
tained; but the inhabitants have a privilege of oather-
ing it on the shores of Herm, where it is to be obtained
in @reat abundance. Jethou is smaller than Herm, but
is a more picturesque object. It contains the proprie-
tor’s house, an excellent orchard, about a score of
people, and a number of rabbits.
Alderney has given name to the beautiful little cattle
of the Channel Islands, and of which their natives are
so proud. Special laws bothin Jersey and in Guernsey
protect the purity of the breed. The importation of
foreien cattle is strictly prohibited, under heavy penal-
ties ; and there is considerable rivalry between Guernsey
and Jersey as to which produces the best and purest
specimen of the Alderney cow. The oreater number
of Alderney cows known in England are exported from
Jersey: but a Guernsey farmer would not admit a
1837]
Jersey cow upon his grounds. ‘Tie prevailing opinion
seems to be that the Guernsey breed is really better than |
perceive the black heads of rocks, appearing and dis-
the Jersey; and the Guernsey butter, which is better
than that of Jersey (both are excellent,) is appealed to,
in support of the opinion. Yet, as is very natural, the
people of Alderney affirm that ¢hetr cow can only be
produced, in all its handsomeness of figure and ex-
cellence of quality, on its own native island, and thiat
the Jersey and Guernsey breeds are deterioratious.
Some judges are of this opinion; and it is stated that
the Alderney cow can easily be distinguished from those
of the neiehbouring islands, by being remarkably small
and straight in the back, with prominent sparkling
eyes.
Alderney is distant from Guernsey (north-east by
worth) about fifteen miles, or twenty from port to port ;
from Jersey about thirty-three miles from coast to coast,
and forty-five from port to port; and about fifty-five
or sixty miles south by east of Portland Bill, the nearest
point of England. The communication with Guernsey
is much more frequent and regular than with Jersey.
Alderney possesses four vessels, the total burden of
which is only 150 tons. During the oyster season
some of them ply on the French coast; but two, at
least, run regularly to Guernsey, paying a visit occa-
sionally to Jersey.
The island is about 32 miles long, from north-east to
south-west; about 14 broad; and about 8 iniles in cir-
cuit. ‘The south-east coast is formed by picturesque
and lofty cliffs, from 100 to 200 feet high; but as the
island shelves towards the north-east, the coasts in that
direction are of less elevation, and more indented with
small bays, such as those of Loney or Catel (query,
Chatel—Castle?) bay on the east, and of Braye on the
north-west. The last affords good anchorage, and hear
it is the only harbour in the islaud, that of* Crabby,
which, however, is fit for none but small vessels. The
approach to the island is dangerous in bad weatlier, in
consequence of the rapidity and diversity of the cur-
rents, and the rocks and islets which surround it in
every direction.
The ‘* Race of Alderney” lics betwecn the south end
of the island and Cape La Hogiue, the extremity of the
Normandy peninsula. ‘The width of the channel is
about seven miles, and it affords sufficient depth of '
water for the largest ships; but in stormy weather it Is
very dangerous. The ‘‘ Swinge” is on the north side,
between Alderney and another island called Berhou.
Mr. Inelis, who visited Alderney from Guernsey, says |
the sun was setting before they entered the ‘‘ Swinge.”
As it got lower the boatmen tugged the harder at their
oars, *‘ anxious, aS they said, to make Alderney before
dark—not on their account but on miné; for, sup-
posing I had heard a good deal of the dangers of
Alderney, they probably concluded that I was not per-
fectly at my ease, and they kept now and then repeating
to me, in their own indifferent French, ‘ Monsieur,
jour et nuit, c’est la méme chose pour nous’—[day
and night it is the same thing for us] ;—that was to
say, that they knew the navigation so well, that it sig-
nified nothing whether it was dark or light when they
got into the Swinge. For my part, never having seen
the Swinge, I felt no great dread of it; and it was so
calm and mild and beautiful, that darkness seemed
scarcely to have anything of terror in it.
‘ Notwithstanding all the exertions we made, it fell
almost dark before we reached the coast; and when we
entered the Swinge, there was just light enough to see
that its dangers had not been exaggerated. Suddenly,
from the calmest water we were plunged into an ugly,
plashy sex; dancing and breakine as if there were
rocks not a foot from the surface. I was just able to
see, that in some places there were currents like cata-|
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
‘that blows ;” fogs tuo are not unfrequent.
383
racts; and in others singular wide hollows and eddies,
like whirlpools; while at no great distance I conld
appearing as the swell of the troubled sea rose anid fell
amone them; and still the boatmen continued their
consolatory sentence, “jour et nuit, c’est la méme chose
pour nous.” It soon became as dark as it is on any
March moonless nieht; but I felt secure in the know-
ledwe and skill of the boatinen; and about an hour
after dark, something black and square and high ap-
peared on our bow, which turned out to be the back of
the harbour, which we soon after—but apparently with
orcat straining at the oars—safely entered ; and from
what the boatmen now told me, I had reason to con-
eratulate myself, not on an éscape from danger, for I
do not suppose there was any, but from considerable
inconvenience. Owing fo our protracted voyage, the
tide had already bewan to turn; and if we had been
half a hour later, or had not been favoured by a lieht
breeze which sprung up when it fell dark, no efforts
could have carried us into Alderney; and we should
have been obliged to have submitted to be carried
again through the Swinge, and to have passed the
nieht as we best could.”
The population of Alderney is decreasing by eimi-
vration, which is attributed to want of trade and
employment. ‘The majority of the emigrants go to
Guernsey and Jersey, some to America. The popunla-
tion was, in 1813, 1308; in 1821, 1151; in 1823, 1066;
and in 1831, 1045; of whom 447 were males, and 568
females. The inhabitants are a good deal engayed in
fishing, to which their insular situation and the abun-
dance of fish supply an ample inducement. ‘The
town, which is known simply by that designation, is
situated in a beautiful valley nearly in the centre of the
island, with roads leading to Braye and Loney Bays,
and compreliends all the houses in Alderney. It is
partly paved, but presents, as may be supposed, few
buildings worthy of notice. The church is dedicated
to St. Anne, and the parish is in the diocese of Win-
chester. The government-house is near the church.
An ancient monastery at Longy Bay has been made to
serve the purpose of a barrack in time of war, and a
depdt for military stores and an hospital since the con-
clusion of the peace.
The clinate is mild and healthy, though from the
more northerly position of Alderney it is more exposed
than the other islands to the north-east winds that
sweep the channel; “there is scareely a rood of land
throv@hént the island that is not exposed to every wind
i The soil is
sandy; gritty, atid gravelly round the coast, but in the
valleys it is very fertile, producing excellent corn and
the best kind of potatoes, much superior to those of
Jersey of Guernsey. In the meadows they grow rye-
erass ahd clover, which’ eive excellent milk and butter.
'Flie erass lands occupy ubout one-third of the area of
the island. The land is generally elevated, but consists
both of high and low tracts; a good supply of excellent
water is procured if every part of the island.
Alderiiey ig a dependency of Guerusey. The civil
power is vested in six jurats, who are chosen by the
people, and liold their offices for life, unless removed
for misbehaviour. These, with twelve ‘ dowzainiers,
representatives of the people, form a sort of local legis
Jature, the dougainiers having only the power of delibe
rating, not of voting; neither is this power possessed
by the governor of Guernsey or his heutenant, thoneh
the presence of one of these is requisite. Phe same
jurats, the eldest acting as president, with the king's
procurator and advocate, (the last a barrister,) and the
ereffier, or registrar, nominated by the goveruor, con-
stitute the court of justice; from which, however, ay
384
appeal lies to the royal court at Guernsey, and, in the
last resort, to the king in council. In criminal cases,
the court at Alderney only collects and transmits
evidence to the superior court at Guernsey, where the
sentence is pronounced and carried into execution.
The local militia is composed of four companies of
infantry and a brigade of artillery. The men are fur-
nished with clothing and accontrements at the cost of
the government, but receive no pay when called ont.
They are excellent marksmen. The officers are appointed
by the Lieutenant-governor of Guernsey. ‘The militia
and regular troops together may amount to 300 men.
Six miles, or thereabouts, to the west of Alderney,
lies a cluster of rocks called ‘* The Caskets,” included
in the compass of a mile, and having, on the south-west
side, a natural harbour, in which a frigate may shelter
as.in a dock. The light-houses on these rocks are three
in number, and so situated as to form atriangle. They
are called St. Peter, St. Thomas, and Donjon. The
platform of each is sheathed with copper, as are also
the staircases, to prevent their destruction In case of
fire. ‘The men who have the care of the lights keep a
journal of the wind and weather; they have a telegraph
MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT.
for the purpose of communicating with the agent of
the Trinity House (which corporation has the charge of
the lighthouses), also a little brewery, and a forge.
Their salary is about 502, per annum. Upon these
rocks, or others in the vicinity, Prince William, only
son of Henry L., perished by shipwreck, in the year
1119; and in 1744 the Victory, of 110 guns, was lost,
with 1]00 men.* :
The islet of Berhou, which is separated from Alderney
by the Swinge, is interesting to the naturalist. It is a
haunt of the stormy petrel, the bird familiarly known
to British seamen as Mother Carey's Chicken—the only
other spots in the British Isles where it is said to be
* tPenny Cyclonandia,’ vol. i, article ALDERNEY,
-~_ ——-:
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*.* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at 59, Lincoln’s Inn Fields.’
LONDON :—CUARLES KNIGHT & CO., 22, LUDGATE STREET,
Printed by Wirtram Crowes and Sons, Stamford Street,
_:
The Island of
[SerreMBER 30, 1837,
found being the Scilly Isles and the Calf of Man. In
the sands of Berhou, according to Mr. Inglis, the honey-
hee, apis centuncularis, is to be found.
In concluding this account of the CuAnner IsLanps,
we may re-state the names of the works which have
been made use of :—The Rev. Mr. Falles ‘ History of
Jersey, published about the close of the seventeenth
century ; Plees’s ‘ Jersey,’ and Berry’s ‘ Guernsey,’ both
in quarto, and published in 1815; Dr. M‘Culloch’s
article on the Channel Islands, in vol. 1. of the ‘Tran-
sactions of the Geological Society;’ and, lastly, the
late Mr. Inglis’s very interesting work on the Channel
Islands. The wood-cuts are from original drawings
by W. A. Delamotte, Esq., of Oxford.
We must also add a word or two about the news-
paper press of the Channel Islands. There are ten:
six in Jersey, and four in Guernsey; some printed in
English, intended principally for the English residents,
and some in French, for the use of the bulk of the
people. It is certainly a remarkable circumstance that
all insular community—not mustering in all the islands
above 60,000—should support so many newspapers.
It is partly explained by the fact that the islands are
self-eoverned communities, and that therefore the pro-
ceedings of the legislative bodies, and of the courts,
have an interest in the minds of the inhabitants; and
partly by the cheapness of the newspapers—the French
selling at three sons each, not so much as Id. The
English newspapers might be placed alongside of many
of our own provincial papers; and the French, con-
sidering the nature of the topics, and the limited
‘ public” to-which they appeal, are very fair indeed.
The aggregate amount of circulation of these papers
implies a considerable habit of reading on the part of
the people of the Channel Islands; and yery laudable
efforts have been made of late years to improve and
strengthen it.
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[Castle of Badajoz.]
Tue city of Badajoz forms an object of great interest to
an Englishman, inasmuch as it is connected with the
military successes of his country. Though the walls are
kept in perfect repair, the breach by which the British
soldiers entered is distinctly visible from the: different
colour of the stone employed in its restoration: ad-
ditional works have been thrown up since, to strengthen.
what experience has shown to have been a weak point.
The castle, however, (of ‘which our cut is a representa-
tion, taken from the ‘spot where the British entered
under General Picton,) presents but a heap of ruins—
the habitation of desolation. Many years have passed
since the thunder of the cannon laid the pride-of this
tower of strength with the dust, since the voice of
Picton cheered his bands to victory ; and yet how little
has been changed !—nota stone has been removed; not
a stone has been added: the Moorish towers remain in
the same shattered condition; the crumbling wall and
broken arch, unheeded, unrepaired.
An old Spaniard, who had been present at the sieore,
walked over the castle with us, and gave a double
interest to the scene by his animated descriptions.
** Here, senor,” said he, pointing to a spot in the
fosse, hollowed by the sinking in of some body under
the surface, “lie buried 8000 British, French, and
Spaniards; friend and foe, seior, there they lie;”
and, he added, in the emphatical manner of his country,
Vou. V I,
‘God rest their souls!” We could not resist the tempta-
tion of descending into this Golgotha: the ground was
strewed with fragments of what once were men.
Badajoz is situated ou an eminence which, gradually
sloping upwards from the plain, terminates rather pre-
cipitously at the castle. . This hill terminates the range
of the mountains’ of Toledo, although separated from
the chain by the ‘* dark Guadiana,” “whose waters flow
beneath the city walls. Fort St. Christobal, a strong
fort on the Portuguese side of the.river, and completely
commanding the town, is, more properly speaking, the
last of the Toledo mountains, as the eminence on which
the city stands does. not deserve so dignified ‘a name.
Badajoz is completely surrounded on three sides by a
vast plain, and on the fourth by the river. This plain
was once covered with the vine and the olive, and the
picturesque Casas del Campo of the more wealthy in-
habitants; but now it presents but a wide and dreary
desert; war, with its desolating blasts, has swept cul-
demon Row the soil; has converted the sickle into
the sword, and the ploughshare into a spear.
The bridge of Badajoz is a beautiful remain of Roman
architecture, and its perfect and solid masonry attest
the greatness of that surprising people in their works
of art. Much is added to its appearance by the Téte de
Pont, on the Campo side, and the fine towers of the
Puerta de los Palmas, on the city side. In the centre,
3D
386
a fountain of living water casts its refreshing showers
high into the sultry air, and the heauty of the prospect
on every hand renders the Ponte de Badajoz a pleasant
promenade for the fair or idle. ‘The river beneath is so
shallow in the summer months as to be fordable almost
at every part; but in the winter it becomes a mighty
stream, pouring its waters along with resistless rapidity,
and entirely filling the wide channel cut in the loose
soil by its ceaseless flow. Navigation, therefore, is not
to be thought of, and the only vessels to be seen are a
few small boats for pleasure or for fishing.
The Palmer’s Gate is well worthy of notice on account
of its extreme beauty; the two round towers which
stand on either hand are perfectly symmetrical; and
the golden hue of age thrown over the white marble of
which they are built by the fine pure atmosphere of a
southern climate, increases the beauty of their appear-
ance by lending the charms of colour to those of form.
This gate, which is also Roman, was repaired by
Philip IL, the husband of our Queen Mary, in the
year 1551, as appears by the inscription, sinée which
time the hand of the workman has not touched it.
The bridge, however, of which this gate forms the
termination, has been thoroughly repaired and paved.
The interior of the town presents nothing remarkable,
although extremely clean without the aid of white-
wash, sc much used in Portugal to give an air of
cleanliness to the antiquated and miserable streets.
The houses are for the most part large and commo-
dious, and the inn, or Fonda de los Cuatra Naciones, is
superlative in its accommodation and comfort; indeed,
it is surprising to find so splendid an establishment in
Badajoz, after becoming accustomed to the wretched,
comfortless, and dirty inns, hotels, hospederios, or what-
ever they may call them,in Portugal. The market-place
near the castle is a fine square, and contains the go-
vernment offices, &c.; the buildings are extremely pic-
turesque, and are overlooked by some old towers and
ruins, forming an interesting background. ‘The street
which leads from this place to the cathedral is filled
with the houses of the gentry, and its termination forms
the Rambla, or public walk, where the belles of the
place display themselves in the evening air. ‘The ca-
thedral, whose Gothic arches and massive tower over-
look this promenade, is a plain and ugly building
externally, but every art and expense have been la-
vished to render its interior magnificent and glittering.
The numerous chapels which surround its broad and
eloomy aisles are covered with carvings and gilt-work ;
the altars are enriched by embroidery of the most costly
workmanship, and resplendent with silver candlesticks
and wax candles kept constantly lighted; and the
grand altar displays all the art and splendour of the
Catholic worship.
ON THE CULTURE OF WHEAT WITHIN THE
TROPICS.
Ir has not been among the least of the evils resulting
from the system hitherto pursued in our West Indian
settlements, that it had a direct tendency to restrict the
industry of the planters exclusively to those objects
which created the greatest demand for human labour
within the colonies, and commanded the readiest sale in
other countries. The consequence of this exclusive
attention to one or two objects of cultivation, calculated
chiefly for foreign consumption, was a total neglect of
those articles which were in every-day demand for the
home market, and: for which the inhabitants were thus
rendered dependent upon other countries, and more
especially upon the United States of North America.
Among the objects the want of an internal supply of
which has* been at various times severely felt, few rank
higher than wheat and the other cerealia, against the
al
4
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
[Ocroser 7,
culture of which, although tried with success soon after
the Spanish conquest, and although remnants of that
success are still to be found, not only in various parts
of the continent of America within the tropics, but éven
at a level little exceeding that of the sea in the island
of Cuba, but little farther north than our own island of
Jamaica, an unreasonable prejudice has prevailed in
the minds of the planters, which ‘no effort has been
made to combat by the test of experience till within the
last few years, when experiments made with the cele-
brated wheat of ia Victoria, in the province of Caraccas,
kindly supplied for the purpose by Sir Robert Kerr
Porter, were first tried with the most triumphant suc-
cess at elevations of from 2000 to 4000 feet above the
level of the sea, in the island of Jamaica, under the
auspices of Dr. Bancroft, the president of the Agri-
cultural Society there, in the years 1834 and 1835;
and still more lately, and with a still more striking
success, at a level of only four feet above the sea, in
the island of New Providence, under the auspices of
the governor, Colonel Colebrooke, and Mr. Lees, the
energetic and indefatigable secretary of the society re-
cently established in the Bahama Islands for the Diffu-
sion of Knowledge. Dr. Bancroft’s account of the ex-
periments made in Jamaica has already been published
in the ‘West of England Journal of Science and Lite-
rature, for the years 1835 and 1836, p. 229; but as
that work is not perhaps in the hands of many who are
readers of this magazine, it may not be amiss to tran-
scribe that part of the paper here for the purpose of
eiving it a wider circulation. Dr. Bancroft, speaking
of the Victoria wheat, in his letter of the 9th July,
1835, writes as follows :—“ Victoria wheat: the Jamaica
Society have received samples from three or four dif-
ferent places of the wheat produced there, all of which
appear to be of a favourable sort.
‘¢ First, from the mountains of St. Anne’s, where the
seed had been sown the latter end of January, and the
corn was ripe the latter end of April. In another part
of the same district, the dates of sowing differed from
the above, but the wheat ripened in nearly the same
period.
“Next, from the mountains of St. Andrews. On
one property, Fair Hill, (about 2000 feet above the
sea) the sowing and ripening happened at the same
dates as in the first-mentioned case. Of this corn one
grain produced twenty-eight ears, containing altogether
1500 grains (being an average of fifty-eight grains for
each ear). Notwithstanding this apparent success, the
proprietor thinks it unlikely that planters would grow
the Victoria wheat in preference to the “great corn,”
as it is called here, 1. e., zea mayz.
‘¢On another plantation, again, Charlottenbere (about
4000 feet above the level of the sea), the seed was sown
early in March, and received a top-dressing ; in the course
of a few days it had already sprung up three inches above
sround; and, as favourable moderate rains continued
to fall subsequently, the corn throve well, and ripened
in the early part of June, producing abundantly grain
of a larger size than the parent seed, the ears being
large and full. Six of these, for iistance, yielded 336
grains, weighing three ounces; making an average of
fifty-six grains, weighing half an ounce, to each ear.
Mr. W. B. King, an assistant judge of assize, and
member of Assembly, has sent me two bundles of the
ears of his wheat, and I intend to enclose one or two
of them as a specimen of the produce of the Victoria
wheat here. Irom the trial just made, Mr. King has
no doubt that this grain could be cultivated in many
parts of this island, and that it might become a profit-
able resource.”
Such was the result of the first successful attempt
perhaps ever made in a British island in the West
Indies to cultivate this valuable grain; and yet, such
7
1887.]
was the force of lone-cherisned prejudices that, not-
withstanding the enormous return of 1500 for 1, which
we find was obtained at FairHill, and notwithstanding
the shortness of the interval between sowing and reap-
ing, which in no instance appears to have exceeded
ninety days, we learn from Dr. Bancroft that the pro-
prietor of that estate did not think it likely that the
planters would prefer this crop to Indian corn, the
common food of the blacks, although rarely eaten by
the whites, except on occasions of scarcity. There can
be little doubt that much of the success of this first trial
is attributable to the circumstance of its having been
made with a grain acclimated by the cultivation of two
centuries within the tropics; since, as will be seen by the
report of the experiments tried in the Bahama Islands
with Caraccas and Ennelish wheat, that while the pro-
ductiveness of the former is increased by its approach
to a lower level and a hotter climate, the latter proved
nearly a total failure. The following: report of these
experiments is transcribed from the tenth number of
the ‘Journal of the Bahama Society for the Diffusion
of Knowledge’ for the month of March, 1836 :—
“WHEAT.
* The following descriptions of wheat were planted on the Ist of
November, in the garden attached to the government house,
Nassau, New Providence :—
‘¢ DESCRIPTION.
No. 1. English white wheat—fourteen grains: of which are come
up, but not yet in ear.
No. 3. Victoria wheat, English growth, raised from Caraccas seed
—six graius, all came up, and have produced sixty-two
stalks in ear, which are now ripening.
No. 4. Red wheat—came up, and have produced six stalks, but
not yet in ear.
‘¢ AccoUNT OF THE WHEAT PLANTED AT THE SAME TIME BY
Mr. Srorr.
No. 1. English white wheat—not come up.
No. 2. Victoria wheat from Caraccas—each grain has produced
from fifty to sixty ears; each ear containing from seventy
to eighty grains. (An increase of from 3508 to 4800 for
one.)
Victoria wheat, of English growth, raised from Caraccas
seed—same.
No. 4. Red wheat—has spread very much, having the appear-
ance of grass, but has not yet (in four months) produced
any stems.”
No. 3.
In a former page of the same number (p. 120), de-
tailing the proceedings of the Society at their monthly
meeting on the evening of Friday the 12th of March,
his Excellency the Lieutenant-governor in the chair, we
find the following paragraph :—‘ Mr. Lees stated, that
he had been informed by John Storr, Esq., that each
orain of the Victoria wheat which he had planted would
be likely to produce 100 ears: counting only the very
moderate number of fifty grains to each ear, this would
be an increase of 5000 per cent., or five thousand
bushels for one. Mr. Storr intends, in the ensuing
season, planting a quarter of an acre with this wheat,
from which no doubt abundance of seed will be ob-
tained.”
The island of New Providence, in which these ex-
periments were made, like all the rest of the conntless
islands of various magnitudes which stud the ocean for
a space of more than five degrees of latitude and as
many of longitude to the north of Cuba and Haiti, is
utterly destitute of high land, and the level at which the
wheat was raised does not exceed the altitude of four
feet above the ocean. The mean temperature of the
summer months, from May to October, is about eighty-
seven degrees of Fahrenheit, the entire range hardly
ever exceeding two or three degrees; while the atmo-
spheric pressure varies in general so little, that a baro-
meter is regarded as an unnecessary instrument in so
equable a climate. The soil is of two descriptions,
neither of them possessing a depth of more than two
feet, in general, above the substratum of coral rock |
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
387
upon which it rests. One of these, celebrated for the
fine and highly-prized pine-apples which it produces, is
of a red colour, and is formed chiefly of decayed vege -
table matter; which, although of singular fertility
during the rainy season, becomes soon exhausted by
exposure to the sun and wind, and in dry weathe1 is so
very fine and light, as to be frequently dissipated en-
tirely by the action of the wind, leaving the rocky basis
of the island naked and exposed. The other, a black
vegetable mould, somewhat resembling the former, is,
however, much inferior in point of fertility; it was in
this soil the wheat was raised. Intermingled with both
these, is a quantity of minutely pulverized madrepores,
and other corallines, sea-shells, &c., which contribute
little, if at all, to its fertility. Such a soil cannot be
expected to be very retentive of moisture, and hence it
cannot be a matter of surprise that much injury is fre-
quently sustained from the want of rain. During the
months of May and September, indeed, the rain descends
in such impetuous torrents as to do scarcely less injury
than the intermediate drought, carrying away the loose
| and yielding soil from every declivity with a force less
capable of resistance even than the arid winds. On the
cessation of the rains, the moisture rapidly exhales
through the effects of evaporation, or 1s absorbed by
the porous rock beneath, and everything of a vegetable
nature, which is unable to subsist without moisture, or
penetrates with its roots the pores and fissures of the
subjacent rock, speedily perishes. Rivers of course
cannot be looked for under such circumstances, and
artificial irrigation is out of the question. It was,
however, under circumstances thus unfavourable, under
a temperature little, if at all, varying from that of
islands inore than ten degrees nearer to the line, at a
level little exceeding that of the ocean, that the im-
portant results just detailed were obtained ; and we-are
justified by these results in concluding that the results
would be the same at the same level, but in more con-
genial soil, in Antigua, Barbadoes, Nevis, St. Kitt’s,
and the other islands, were the experiments tried with
equal fairness, and the season for sowing selected with
judement. The advantage of securing an internal
supply of so essential an article of human subsistence,
not only to the population of the islands themselves,
but even to the inhabitants of Great Britain, cannot
fail to strike the most unobservant.
Alabaster.—It is not generally known that most of the
alabaster with which we are supplied comes from the shores
of the Bristol Channel, where, between the towns of Watchet
and Minehead, are vast rocks of this elegant substance,
presenting a most curious appearance, being intersected by
differently coloured veins of quartz, mica, &c. It is justly
regarded as the finest alabaster in the kingdom, and is
much used in an adjacent manufactory for the making of
various ornamental articles. Its base extends outwards into
the sea for near 100 yards, and is covered with various kinds
of sea-weed, which are taken up by the inhabitants, and
prepared into an excellent edible dish, termed laver.
Minerals in Jamaica.—The expectations of the Spaniards,
which appear to have been disappointed on the first discovery:
of Jamaica by Columbus, with respect to its mineral riches,
appear to be on the eve of being realised, after an interval
of more than three centuries, in our days; specimens of
copper, gold, silver, lead, and iron ores, of great beauty and
richness, having been received in this country from an estate
in the vicinity of Kingston. ‘The copper ore is said to yield
fifty per cent. of pure metal, and hence appears to be the
richest in the world: and a cargo of copper ore, shipped from
an estate in the parish of St. George, sold as high as 407,
per ton. Besides this, a discovery of coal, of excellent
quality, has also taken place, and promises to be of vast
advantage to the inhabitants. :
3D 2
388
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
[OcroBEr 7%,
ANCIENT EGYPTIAN DEATH JUDGMENT
4¢ LY ye
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iim) Ne
“ Thou art weighed in the balances and art found wanting.’ —
Daniel v. 27.
‘T'HE idea involved in this is sufficiently obvious in itself.
But it is by no means impossible that the allusion re-
ceived more force and meaning than we give to it from a
reference to some opinion or custom common among the
Babylonians. What that was, we cannot say precisely ;
but probabilities may be suggested by analogies derived
from other sources. Thus the Egyptians eutertained
the belief that the actions of the dead were solemnly
weighed in balances before Osiris, and that the con-
dition of the departed was determined according: to the
preponderance of good or evil. Such judgment scenes
are very frequently represented in the paintings and
papyri of ancient Egypt, and one of them we have
copied as a suitable illustration of the present subject.
One of these scenes, as represented on the walls of a
small temple at Dayr-el-Medeeneh, has been so well
explained by Mr. Wilkinson, that we shall avail our-
selves of his description; for although that to which it
refers is somewhat different from the one which we
have engraved, his account affords an adequate eluci-
dation of all that ours contains.
his throne, awaits the arrival of those souls that are
ushered into Amenti. The four genii stand before him
on a lotus-blossom [ours has the lotus without the
genii], the female Cerberus sits behind them, and Har-
pocrates on the crook of Osiris. Thoth, the geod of
letters, arrives In the presence of Qsiris, bearing in his
‘hand a tablet, on which the actions of the deceased are
noted down, while Horus and Aroeris are employed in
weighing the good deeds* of the judged against the
ostrich feather, the symbol of trnth and justice. A
cynocephalus, the emblem of truth, is seated on the top
of the balance. At length arrives the deceased, who
appears between two fignres of the goddess, and bears
in his hand the symbol of truth,t indicating his me-
ritorious actions, and his fitness for admission to the
presence of Osiris.”
If the Babylonians entertained a similar notion, the
declaration of the prophet, “‘Thou art weighed in the
balances and art found wanting” must have appeared
exceedingly awful to them. But again, there are allu-
sions in this declaration to some such custom of literally
weighing the royal person, as is described in the follow-
ing passage in the account of Sir Thomas Roe’s em-
bassy to the Great Mogul :—‘“ The first of September,
(which was the late Mogul’s birthday,) he, retaining an
ancient yearly custom, was, in the presence of his chief
grandees, weighed in a balance: the ceremony was
performed within his house, or tent, in a fair spacious
ruom, whereinto none were admitted but by special
leave. The scales in which he was thus weighed were
* “This M. Champollion supposes to be the heart. I still incline
to the construction I have put upon it—a type of the good actions
of the deceased.”
+ “Sometimes, instead of the ostrich-feather, the deceased
bears a vase (which is placed in the other scale), and_it has then a
similar import,” / :
*,
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f.
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: ffs
f
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,
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[From a Drawing on one of the Sepulchral Papyrus Rolls. |
“ Osiris, seated on |
[ From the § Pictorial Bible.’ |
plated with gold; and so was the beam, on which they
hung by great chains, made likewise of that most pre-
cious metal. ‘The king, sitting in one of them, was
weighed first against silver coin, which immediately
afterwards was distributed among the poor; then was
he weighed against gold; after that against jewels (as
they say), but I observed (being there present with my
lord ambassador) that he was weighed against three
several things, laid in silken bags in the contrary scale.
When I saw him in the balance, I thought on Bel-
shazzar, who was found too light. By his weight (of
which his physicians yearly keep an exact account),
they presume to guess of the present state of his body,
of which they speak flatteringly, however they think it
to be.”
ui
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[Ancient Egyptian Scales. ]
RAMOOSSIES.
A work published in Bombay a few years ago, by
Captain Mackintosh, of the Madras Army, affords a
curious insight into the habits of the Ramoossies (one
of the mixed castes of India), with which his duties
often brought him in contact. The population of
India is cut up into so many minute subdivisions by
the institution of caste, that it is almost impossible,
even for an inhabitant of the country, to be fully ac-
quainted with all its ramifications. The limits of those
divisions are so rigidly enforced, and the functions of
each so strongly marked out, that it is often more a
matter of circumstance than of inclination whether a
man shall be a robber or a cultivator, a soldier or a
merchant. ‘The Ramoossies form one of the predatory
tribes of India; and their supposed origin, as taken
from an Indian work containing the genealowies of the
mixed castes, will show the difficulty of an acquaintance
with the detail of these divisions of society. It must
be remembered that the pure castes are four only,—
the Brahmans, the Cshatrias, the Vaisyas, and the
1837.]
Sudras; and that all mixtures of these casfes are un-
lawful, although Nature has many times forced the
artificial barrier. ‘The genealoey of the Ramoossies
is thus deduced :—the offspring of a Sudra father and
Brahman mother is called Chandal; that of a Chandal
father and Cshatria mother is named Dombha. ‘The
child of a Sndra father and Vaisya mother is called
Nishad ; and that of a Nishad father and Sudra mother
is named Pulkassy. The Ramoossy is the offspring of
a Dombha father and Pulkassy mother.
The Ramoossies reside chiefly in the outskirts of
towns and villages, in a portion of the Mahratta coun-
try extending 200 miles from north to south, and 100
from east to west. ‘They are in number somewhat
about 20,000. The bulk of this tribe appears, from
time immemorial, to have led a roving life, residing: as
far as practicable from the more civilized inhabitants,
and living’ by occasional robbery of such travellers as
fell in their way, and by regular attacks on the houses
in towns and villages near which their nocturnal marches
carried them. ‘The settled population found it advisable
to purchase immunity from the assailants they were
too feeble to oppose ; and some of the tribe were willing
to receive this sort of “ black mail” as a price of pro-
tection from all robbers, as well of their own body as
of any other. ‘This practice originated the system of
village watchmen, which in this part of India is en-
trusted to Ramoossy families, in whom the office has
become hereditary.
The mode in which the system of Ramoossy watch-
men were employed under the native governments, and
which, with several modifications is still adopted in
some places under the present rule, is sufficiently
curious, and will furnish an illustration of the con-
stitution of Indian society. Whenever a robbery had
taken place, the Ramoossy watchman in charge of the
village was immediately sent for by the anthorities, and
formally made responsible for the amount of the pro-
perty lost. If the sum was not large enough to pay
the expenses of seeking the robber, the watchman usually
entered into an engagement to repay it within a certain
time, and no further proceedings were taken: but in
the case of a robbery to a large amount, measures were
immediately taken for pursuit of the guilty. Karly on
the following morning, the Ramoossy watchman, at-
tended by a few companions, proceeded to trace the
footsteps of the robbers; at this they are singularly
expert; the traces are soon found, twigs are torn from
the adjoining trees, and cut to the size of the footmarks ;
as many separate measures are made as there appear
to be different sized traces, and in this manner the
number of a party is very nearly ascertained. When
the traces were made out, and the measures cut to the
proper sizes, the pursuers followed up the marks until
they were led to the boundary of the next village: here
the inhabitants were then called out, and the footmarks
shown to them. As soon as they were convinced that
the footmarks lead fairly within their own limits, the
responsibility was taken from the watchman of the first
village, and shifted to that of the village now entered:
the measures were handed with formality to the new
pursuers, and all the former ones returned to their own
homes, with the exception of the original watchman
and one companion, who continued the pursuit with
each successive party toits conclusion. This method
was followed up from village to village either until the
robbers were taken, or until all traces were lost. In
the event of the disappearance of the traces, the village
within whose boundary this took place became respon-
sible for the robbery, and means were taken by the
watchman of the place to find the plunderers. Great
sagacity was frequently displayed on these occasions.
Ramoossy women and children were sent into the jungle
under pretence of gathering firewood; but in reality to.
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
389
search the ravines or other lurking places where per-
sons might be concealed. Others were sent into the
adjoining villages to enter into conversation with the
peasantry on indifferent matters, with the view of ascer-
taining whether any of the neighbours had been absent
recently. A clue was often found by some similar
means, and the robbers taken in consequence. With
the capture of the guilty, the responsibility of the watch-
man ceased; but if, after all his endeavours, the search
proved unsuccessful, he was called upon to reimburse
the owner the amount of his lost property. In this
case he commonly solicited the assistance of the village
authorities, the inhabitants were compelled to subscribe
a portion of the amount, and the case was made up
with the owner, who was often glad to get back one
half of the amount of his loss. |
Such was, and with some modification, such is still
the mode of procedure, when the Ramoossy watchmen
are honest in their vocation. But this it seems is not
often the case; they are accused of all kinds of theft,
though chiefly of a petty nature, such as taking grain
from the farm yards, or corn left in the fields, and the
village officers are said to participate occasionally in
the spoil. But with all its defects, the system is found
to be useful ; the Kamoossy police are considered
effective, and English officers at Poonah engage these
people as private watchmen to euard their houses at
nicht.
But the greater part of the tribe live entirely by
robbery ; they have regularly organized bands, who
are bound by strict rules, and joined together by oaths
which they consider sacred. In robbing escorts or single
travellers, they proceed much as the other predatory
tribes in India, but when they attack houses, they have
certain regulations which may be almost termed re-
ligious observances, from which they rarely depart. On
approaching a village they carefully hide their shoes
and the sheaths of their swords in the lone grass, and
then throw themselves into asupplicating posture, make
repeated obeisances, and invoke the tutelary spirit of
the place to favour their undertakings, and to crown
their exertions with success, that they may obtain a
valuable stock to maintain themselves and their wives
and children for along time. One of their party then
takes off his turban, which is cut into three, five, or seven
pieces, and moistened with ghee to serve as torches; a
light is struck, the torches are kindled, and the village
entered: the actual robbery is almost always effected
by violence, and generally accompanied by the barba-
rities attending such scenes in India. If any of their
party is killed, they are careful to remove the body to
prevent discovery; or if they are hard pressed, cut off
the head, and take it away with them; they are so
apprehensive of discovery, that they will even cut off
the head of any one who is so severely wounded as to
be unable to make his escape, though not mortally.
But they rarely come to this extremity: cunning Is their
usual weapon, and it 1s mostly successful. ‘They are
so very skilful in imitating the cries of the various wild
animals which are so frequent in the neighbourhood
of the native villages, that their occurrence excites no
attention. When separated in flight, or divided for the
purpose of a more effective attack, the whistling of birds
and the howling of jackals forin a sort of language of
signals, by which their movements are known to each
other, though unsuspected by those uninitiated. The
cawing of crows is sometimes imitated very soon afier
midnight, to pretext the approach of morning, in order
to induce sleeping travellers to rise and march befora
the hour that prudence would dictate; and ina country
where clocks are unknown, many a traveller has been
led by such means to set out hours before the usual
time, lured to a secure spot, and there plundered.
In these expeditions gain is of course the chief motive 3
390
and although violence is often practised, murder is
rarely perpetrated; stories are told of their having
suffered much from their unwillingness to imbrue their
hands in blood. In former times they were less scru-
pulous, but even at the worst, they seldom murdered
without the stimulus of revenge.
passion, they rivalled the Children of the Mist; it was
disgraceful to forgive an injury, and a parent on his
death-bed accounted it a sacred duty to call together
his children, to remind them of any insult which re-
mained unatoned for, and to enjoin them not to let slip
the first opportunity of vengeance. ‘Their character at
present is less dark, and they may be considered simply
as bold reckless adventurers; their outrages are perpe-
trated with every precaution that prudence conld suggest,
but an inconceivable heedlessness succeeds, and the
neglect of the most ordinary care is constantly visible
in their actions, and leads to the detection of their
robberies. The most usnal way in which they are found
out, is their making a foolish display of their stolen
goods, or offering them for sale in some shop, generally
in Poona, the very place where in al! probability the
article was originally purchased.
At one period, much trouble was occasioned to the
British government by an insurrection of the Ramoossies
under the conduct of a bold and able chief named
Umiah, who in early life had taught himself to read
and write, while in prison for a robbery. This was a
very rare accomplishment for a Ramoossy, and the
acquirement of knowledge under such circumstances is
a proof of that energy of determination which procured
him so great an influence over his tribe, who resisted
the authorities, levied contributions on the country,
made war against the government, and kept the whole
territory in a state of disturbance, which was terminated
only by the execution of Umiah in the year 1832.
With this exception, the principal trouble with the
Ramoossies is in their character of thieves; and the
milder and more certain punishments inflicted by our
government appear to have a better effect than the
ferocious mutilations, and indiscriminate massacres of.
whole families, even to infants at the breast, in which
the native powers indulged, when prisoners were too
poor to buy themselves off. The punishment of death
with most half-civilized people is little dreaded, but a
lengthened imprisonment is much feared, and transpor-
tation is looked upon by the natives of India with great
horror. Kalapani or the black water, by which they
designate the ocean, is a term of dreadful import, and
the place of transportation is figured as an island of
a frightful description, full of wicked and malevolent
beings, visible and invisible, and covered with serpents,
dragons, griffins, and other terrible creatures.
In some places, as at Mundesh, and about Ahmed-
nagar, the Ramoossies are of a more peaceable and in-
dustrious character, and many of them have become
regular cultivators. But this is not the case with the
majority of the tribe, who are of a hardy and enter-
prising disposition, delighting in an idle and roving
life; going about. with @uns and snares, occasionally
destroying tigers, and more frequently killing deer, wild
boars, ducks, hares, and partridges, on which they sub-
sist themselves, and when in the neighbourhood of a
market, dispose of to such castes as have few prejudices
regarding food. European gentlemen residing at Poona
employ them as game-killers; and from their peculiar
habits find them a valuable aid in procuring a provision
of a favourite article of consumption. In such modes
of life, the hardy disposition of the Ramoossies may find
employment without a resort to violence and outrage,
which it may not be too much to hope will gradually
yield, throughout India, to regular government and the
spread of information.
mee if FF sa © (a eee
THE PENNY
In gratifying this:
MAGAZINE.
QUANTITY OF ATR EMPLOYED IN BREATHING,
(From Fol. IT. of Dr. Southwood Smith's © Philosophy of Health.)
THE quantity of air capable of being received into the
lungs of an adult man, in sound health, at an inspiration,
is determined with correctness by an instrument con-
structed by Mr. Green, analagous to one suggested by
Mr. Abernethy. It consists of a tin tron@h, about a
foot square, and six inches deep, three parts of which
are filled with water. Into this trough is placed a
three-callon glass jar, open at the bottom, and gra-
duated at the side into pints, half-pints, &c. To the
upper end of the jar a flexible tube is affixed, having at
its connexion a stop-cock. The lungs being emptied,
as in the ordinary action of expiration, and the mouth
applied to the end of the flexible tube, the nostrils
beine closed by the pressure of the fingers, the air is
drawn out of the jar into the lungs by the ordinary
action of inspiration. When as much air is thus drawn
into the Inngs as the air vesicles will hold, the stop-cock
is closed, and the quantity of air inspired is ascertained
by the rise of the water, the level of the water corre-
sponding with the indications marked on the side of the jar.
The quantity of air which a person by a voluntary
effort can inspire at one time is found, as might have
been anticipated, to be different in every different indi-
vidual. These varieties depend, amone other causes,
on the greater or less development of the trunk, on the
presence or absence of disease in the chest, on the de-
gree in which the lung is emptied of air by expiration
previously to inspiration, and on the energy of the in-
spiratory effort. The greatest volume of air hitherto
found to have been received by the lung, on the most
powerful inspiration, is nine pints and a quarter. The
average quantity which the lungs are capable of receiy-
ing in persons tin good health, and free from the accu-
mulation of fat about the chest, appears to be from five
to seven pints. ‘The latter is about the average qnan-
tity capable of being inspired by pnblic singers.
But these measurements relate to the greatest volume
of air which the lungs are capable of receiving, on the
most forcible inspiration which it is possible to make
after they have been emptied by forcible expiration, and
consequently express the quantity received in extraor-
dinary, not in ordinary inspiration. The quantity re-
ceived at an inspiration easy, natural, and free from any
great effort, may betwo pints andahalf; but the qnan-
tity received at an ordinary inspiration, made without any
effort at all, is, according to former observations which
referred to Winchester measure, about one pint.
The quantity of air expelled from the lung by an or-
dinary expiration is probably a very little less than that
received by an ordinary inspiration.
No one is able by a voluntary effort to expel the
whole contents of the lungs. Observation and expe-
riment lead to the conclusion that the lungs, when
moderately distended, contain at a medium about twelve
pints of air. As one pint is inhaled at an ordinary in-
spiration, and somewhat less than the same volume is
expelled at an ordinary expiration, there remain present
in the lungs, at a minimum, eleven pints of air. There
Is one act of respiration to four pulsations of the heart ;
and, as in the ordinary state of health there are seventy-
two pulsations, so there are eighteen respirations in a
minute, or 25,920 in the twenty-four hours.
About two ounces of blood are received by the heart
at each dilation of the auricles; about the same quan-
tity is expelled from it at each contraction of its ven-
tricles ; consequently, as the heart dilates and contracts
seventy-two times in a minute, it sends thus often to
the lungs, there to be acted upon by the air, two ounces
of blood. It is estimated by Haller that 10,527 orains
of blood occupy the same space as 10,000 erains of
water; so that if one cubic inch of water weigh 253
'[Ocrozer 7,
| grains, the same bulk of blood will weigh 2664 erains,
1837. ]
It is ordinarily estimated that on an average one cir-
cuit of the blood is performed in 150 seconds; but that
the quantity of air always present in the lungs contains
precisely a sufficient quantity of oxygen to oxygenate
the blood, while flowing at the ordinary rate of 72
contractions of the heart per minute, for the exact space
of 160 seconds. It is therefore highly probable that
this interval of time, 160 seconds, is the exact period
in which the blood performs one circuit, and not 150
seconds, as former observations had assigned. If this
be so, then 540 circuits are performed in the twenty-four
hours; that is, there are three complete circulations of
the blood through the body in every eight minutes of
time.
But it has been shown that the weight of the blood
is to that of water as 1.0527 is to unity, and that con-
sequently 10,527 erains of blood are in volume the
same as 10,000 grains of water.
From this it results that if in the human adult two
ounces of blood are propelled into the lungs at each
contraction of the heart, that is, '72 times in a minute,
there are in the whole body precisely 384 ounces, or 24
pounds avoirdupois, which measure 632.0657 cubic
inches, or within one cubic inch of 20 imperial pints,
which measure 693.1847 cubic inches.
By an elaborate series of calculations from these
data Mr. Finlaison has deduced the following general
results :—
1. As there are four pulsations to one respiration,
there are eixht ounces of blood, measuring 14.418 cubic
inches, presented to 10.5843 grains of air, measuring
34.24105 cubic inches.
2. The whole contents of the lung's is equal to a vo-
luine of very nearly 411 cubic inches full of air, weigh-
ing 127 erains, of which 29.18132 grains are oxygen.
3. In the space of five-sixth parts of one second of
time, two ounces, or 960 grains weight of blood, mea-
suring 33, or 3.60451 cubic inches, are presented for
aération.
4. Therefore the air contained in the lungs is L14
times the bulk of the blood presented, while the weight
of the blood so presented is 75 times as great as thie
weight of the air contained.
. In one minute of time the fresh air inspired
2 to 6164 cubic inches, or as nearly as may be
18 pints, weighing 1903 grains.
6. In one hour the quantity inspired amounts to
10662 pints, or 2 hogsheads, 20 gallons, and 103 pints,
weig hing 935 ounces and 3] grains.
7, In one ‘day it amounts to 57 hogsheads, 1 gallon,
and 71 pints, weighing 5714 ounces and 25 erains,
8. To this volume of air there are presented for
aération in one minute of time 144 ounces of blood, in
volume 2594 cubic inches, which is within 18 cubic
inches of an imperial gallon.
9. In one hour 540 pounds avoirdupois, measuring
449+ pints, or 1 hogshead and 14 pints ;—and
10. In the twenty-four hours, in weight 12,960
pounds; in bulk 10,7824 pints, that is, 24 hogsheads
and 4 gallons.
11. Thus,in round numbers, there flow to the human
lung's every minute nearly 18 pints of air (besides the 12
pints constantly in the air vesicles), and nearly 8 pints of
blood; but in the space of twenty-four hours, upwards
of 57 hogsheads of air and 24 hogsheads of blood.
BRITISH FISHERIES.—No. XVI.
Tue Tursor.
Tue turbot, brill, sole, flounder, halibut, and several
others with which we are less familiar, belong to an
order of flat-fish called pleuronectide, from their swim-
ming sideways. ‘The halibut is the largest of this class;
and one specimen was taken in 1828, near the Isle of
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
391
Man, which weiched 323 lbs. ; but it is of inferior value
as food. ‘The sole is the smallest of these flat-fish ; its
average weight being about 2 lbs. or 3 lbs., though
Mr, Yarrell mentions one taken on the coast of Corn-
wall which weighed 9 lbs., and was 26 inches long. The
ordinary weight of the turbot is from 5 Ibs, to 10 Ibs.,
but some are occasionally taken weighing 80 lbs. ; ; and
in 1832 a turbot was taken at Whitby which weiehed
196 lbs., and measured six feet across. It must have
been a specimen of similar dimensions which puzzled —
the cooks of Domitian, and the degenerate senators of
Rome were assembled to devise the means of bringing
it to table. In regard to fish, nature does not seem to
be bound by the ordinary rules which reculate the
erowth of quadripeds. Although instances do occur of
extraordinary bulk, or equally singular diminutiveness
in them, yet this departure froin the ordinary standard
of their kind is far less irreeular than in fishes; and an
Ox, Or a sheep, six times larger than their ordinarily
largest size has never been witnessed.
The turbot is taken on nearly all the coasts of Britain.
It is found from the north of Scotland to Cornwall. In
Yreland it is chiefly confined to the south-western coasts.
It has, however, its favourite haunts, where it is found
in greater abundance and perfection than other places.
The sand-banks between Dover and the French coast,
and those between the English and Dutch coasts, which
extend in a line parallel to the eastern shores of Britain,
are the most valuable fishing-eronnds; and the coast
from the North Foreland to the Land’s End also
abounds with this much-esteemed fish. The turbot
does not frequent the coast-line of the United States,
and with us it is less abundant at the Orkneys than on
the Yorkshire and other shores still further south.
As the turbot does not possess the power of rapid
motion, it would be liable to speedy extermination by
its numerous enemies were it not so formed and en-
dowed as to render it quick in perceiving danger;
and it is also guarded by its habits, which occasion
it constantly to be near the bottom, and also by its
colour; for while one-half of the fish is nearly white,
the other half approaches to the muddy colour of that
part of the element in which it resides. ‘The position
of the eyes is also singularly adapted for securing its
safety. They are not placed on each side of the head,
but only on that side which is uppermost when it is in
motion. Theturbot is most active in the night-time,
when perhaps its enemies are less vigilant; and in
| the day-time it lies at the bottom, with its dark side
uppermost, and is consequently difficult to be distin-
geuished. It is said that when it is appreliensive of
danger it will remain perfectly still. Man is probably
its most active enemy. Great care is necessary in
havine a suitable bait; for though voracious, it is
delicate in its choice of food. A piece of herring or
haddock is commonly used for a bait, but if it has
been twelve hours out of the water, though not tainted,
turbot will not take it. Many years ago, and perhaps
they still do so, the Dutch purchased of the Thames
fishermen the lesser lamprey for turbot bait to the
value of 700l. a-year. The Scarborough fishermen
were accustomed to obtain a supply by anetl carriage
from the river Wharf, a distance of about sixty miles.
The fishery is carried on both with lines and by
trawling, The former is the most general mode pur-
sued on the north-eastern coast, and trawling is prac-
tised to a greater extent on the south-western coasts.
Mr. Travis, a surgeon who resided at Scarborough,
communicated to Mr. Pennant the mode practised by
the fishermen of that place. ‘This account will be
found in the ‘ British Zoology,’ and is in substance as
follows:—Each person is provided with three lines,
which are fairly coiled upon a flat oblong piece of
wicker-work ; the hooks being baited, and placed very
392
regularly in the centre of the coil. Each line is fur-
nished with fourteen score of hooks, at the distance of
six feet two inches from each other. The hooks are
fastened to the lines upon ‘sheads’ of twisted horse-
hair, twenty-seven inches in length. When fishing,
there are always three men in each coble, and conse-
quently nine of these lines are fastened together, and
used as one line, extending in length nearly three miles,
and furnished with 2520 hooks. An anchor and a buoy
are fixed at the first end of the line, and one more of
each at the end of each man’s lines; in all, four anchors,
which are commonly perforated stones, and four buoys
made of leather or cork. ‘The line is always laid across
the current, and remains upon the ground about six
hours, as it can only be shot or hauled at the turn of
the tide. ‘The rapidity of the tide on this coast prevents
the use of hand-lines; and therefore two of the men
commonly wrap themselves in a sail and sleep while
the other keeps a sharp look-out, for fear of being run
down by ships, and to observe the weather. The coble
is about one ton burden, rather more than twenty feet
Jong, extreme breadth five feet, and it is rowed with
three pairs of oars. A larger description of boat is also
used in the Scarborough turbot fishery. It is forty feet
long, fifteen feet broad, and of twenty-five tons burden,
and is called the ‘ five-men boat,’ thongh usually navi-
gated by six men and a boy; but one of the men. is
hired to cook, and does not share-in the profits with the
other five. ‘Fwo cobles are taken on board, and when
they reach the fishing ground they anchor and proceed
to fish in the cobles, and being provided with a double
set of lines, they haul one and shoot another every turn
of the tide. They generally run into harbour twice
a-week to deliver their fish.
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THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
Such is the account given.
sixty years ago by Mr. Travis, and it does not appear
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[OcToBER 7, 1837
from Mr. Yarrell’s recent work on British Fishes that
any material change has taken place. The practice
varies a little on different parts of the coast, but so it
did at the former period. —
The Dutch engage with great success in the turbot
fishery, but London is their principal market. A pre-
ference is given to Dutch turbot, which it deserves to
some extent. The flesh on the dark-coloured side is_
considered as the best, and the Dutch turbot are of a
darker hue than those obtained on some parts of our
own coast; but those taken on the north-eastern coast
of England are eqnal to the Dutch in this respect,
while those which the south-western coasts produce are
liwhter. Instances now and then occur of turbot which
are dark-coloured on both sides. Mr, Barrow says that
the Dutch draw about 80,000/. a-year for the supply of
the London market with turbot; and, by Mr. Yarrell it
is stated that one-fourth of the whole quantity of turbot |
brought to Billingse@ate is supplied by the Dutch. A
large number of turbot are bought at sea of the Dutch
fishermen, and brought to London. ‘The -French fish-
ermen also sell many-at sea to English fishermen.
When the Dutch fishermen come into our market, they
pay for each boat a duty of 6... Each boat brings from
100 to 150 turbot. Bath and Exeter are the two great
markets for the sale of turbot caught on the western
coast, but even a portion of the supply from this quarter
is brought to London by land carriage. The number
of turbot sold at Billingsgate market is believed to be
about,100,000 a-year. Being justly regarded as one of
the greatest luxuries of the table, turbot always bear a
high price; and occasionally, when the supply is small,
prices rise to an extravagant height. ‘The fishmongers
at the west end of London take off by far the greatest
bulk of each day’s arrivals.
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LONDON: CHARLES KNIGHT & CO., 22, LUDGATE STREET,
Printed by WiLtL1AM Crowes and Sons, Stamford Street,
THE PENNY MAGAZINE
OF THE
Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge.
PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. [Ocrorrr 14, 1837.
A LOOKING-GLASS FOR LONDON.—No. XXII.
MANUFACTURES—-SPITALFIELDS AND THE BOROUGH.
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THERE are no manufactures (using the word in its
more confined and modern acceptation) carried on in
London, with the exception of that of silk; which at
one time might have been considered as almost peculiar
to the metropolis. But, as might be naturally expected,
from the combination of capital and labour, there are
several manufacturing processes conducted on a larger
scale than anywhere else in the United Kingdom, or
even in the world. Some of these are located in par-
ticular quarters of London. Thus, while the manufac-
ture of silk is confined almost exclusively to Spitalfields,
nearly all the sugar-refiners have their establishments in
Whitechapel ; and the borough of Southwark is noted
for dealers in hops, manufacturers of hats, hide and
leather-merchants, wool-staplers, fellmongers, tanners,
dyers, and rope-makers. The manufacture of earthen-
ware is also carried on to some extent in Lambeth.
The manufacture of silk is of ancient date in London.
As far hack as 1455, an act was passed (33 Henry VI.
ce. 5) prohibiting the importation of wrought silks, for
the following reason :—‘* Whereas, it is showed to our
sovereign lord the king, by the grievous complaint of
the silk-women and spinners of the mystery and occu-
pation of silk-working within the city of London, how
that divers Lombards and other strangers, imagining
to destroy the said mystery, and all such virtuous occu |
pations of women in the said realm,” &c. The mercers,
who had been a kind of general dealers in small wares,
were, at the time of passing this act, extensive dealers in |
Vou. VI.
[High Street, Borough.
silks and velvets; and between them and the Lombards
considerable animosity and rivalry prevailed. © Though
the mercers were, in general, ‘“‘ merchant adventurers,”
such as Whittington and the Greshams, many of them
became rich by the silk-trade. One of them, Sir Baptist
Hicks (the founder of Hicks’s Hall, the old place of
meeting for the justices of Middlesex,) made a vast
fortune by supplying the court with silks and rich
mercery wares in the time of James I. ;—“ when that
monarch, and his bare Scotch nobility and gentry
came in.” * It is commonly supposed that the revo-
cation of the edict of Nantes; by pouring in a large
number of French emigrants, very greatly stimulated,
if it did not almost create, the silk-trade in London.
But the revocation took place in 1685; and in 1662 an
act was passed “for regulating the trade of silk-throw-
ino” (14 Car. II. c. 15), in which it is affirmed, on
the authority of the masters and wardens of the silk-
throwers, that the trade employed, in and about Lon-
don, “above 40,000 men, women, and children.” ‘This
may be ai exaggeration; but it proves, at all events,
that the silk-trade of London was an extensive one
long: before the revocation of the edict of Nantes. , The
French emigration, however, gave it an impulse. —
Spitalfields is a large, and now decayed and squalid
portion of London, lying on the north-east side of the
“city.” This, and Bethnal Green, and a small portion of
Whitechapel, may be considered as one district; bounded
* Herbert’s ‘ History of the Livery de
| 3
394
on the west by Bishopsgate Street and Shoreditch; on
the north by the Hackney Road; and on the south by
the great eastern outlet of the city, the Whitechapel
Road, which separates it from the main portion of
Whitechapel; a district, in many parts, equally squalid
with Spitalfields, but which (from containing many
public works, the docks, &c.,) does not exhibit such an
impoverished and dejected aspect. The Spital jcelds
were begun to be built on during the seventeenth cen-
tury; and the houses being suburban, were occupied
by the silk-workers, being in the vicinity of the city,
aud yet affording air and light. Towards the close
of the seventeenth, and beginning of the eighteenth
centuries, the buildings rapidly increased, until Spital-
fields became what it now is, a mass of narrow, incon-
venient, and badly-ventilated streets, lanes, courts and
alleys.
The fostering care of the government did not prevent
the weavers of Spitalfields from feeling the consequences
of fluctuation in their trade during the eighteenth
century. Thus, in 1718, faneying themselves injured
by the consumption of foreign calicoes, some of the
weavers actually went to the length of attacking females
in the streets, tearing the gowns off their backs, or
destroying them by corrosive liquids! Again, in 1736,
conceiving that a number of Irishmen had arrived in
London for the purpose of workiug at under prices,
and starving them, they excited a furious not. Other
disturbances occurred during subsequent parts of the
century, connected with disputes about the prices of
work, &c. But it is needless to advert more particu-
larly to these, or to the disturbances of the present
century, arising from the combined influence of distress
and political feeling. 'The trade of Spitalfields was
always liable to convulsive reactions; and the great
changes effected in 1825, so far from prostrating the
trade, have infused into it a spirit which might have
elevated it considerably, were it not for the intense com-
petition, and the share that the weavers of Coventry,
Manchester, Derby, Paisley, &c., now have, under
altered circumstances, and with different machinery, in
a trade which at one time was a London staple.
As it is, the greater part of Spitalfields is a dreary
and dismal place; it pains one’s heart to walk through
it. Dirty and narrow streets; many old tuinble-down
houses ; windows patched with paper, pasteboard, or
perhaps the broken pane stuffed out with an old hat ;—
here and there a green-grocer’s or cheesemonger's slop,
a potato or coal-shed, or a gin-shop, whose occupants
seem to thrive in the midst of poverty—these are the
characteristics of this region. But the squalidness
of Spitalfields does not arise from the poverty of the
weavers alone. Dr. Kay, an Assistant Poor Law Com-
missioner, who inspected the district in the month of
April last, for the purpose of reporting on the distress
then prevailing, says—‘ The district called Spitalfields
contains a large population not concerned with the silk
trade. <A portion of the casual population of London
frequents either the lodging-houses, or the rooms which
commonly contain a household, and the rent of which
is collected from week to week. The Irish who are
employed at the docks, or as bricklayers’ labourers and
porters throughout the city and town, together with a
considerable number of Irish silk-weavers, form another
element of the population; and English also, employed
as porters and labourers, together with shoemakers,
carpenters, cabinet makers, clock makers, hawkers, and
other similar trades, are mixed with the mass of the
weavers. The parishes in which the weaving population
is chiefly found are Christchurch, Spitalfields ; St.
Matthew, Bethnal Green; Mile-end New Town; St.
Jieonard, Shoreditch; and St. Mary, Whitechapel.”
The chief manufacturers gave it as their opinion that
from 10,0002, to 12,0007, per week is ordinarily paid as
‘“
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
[Ocrozer 14,
the wages of the weaving population. But at the time
of Dr. Kay’s investigation, (April, 1837) this amount
was reduced, owing to commercial embarrassment, to
5000. or 6000/., and out of 14,000 looms, one-third
were altogether disused, and the remainder but partially
emploved. A weaver has generally two looms, one for
his wife and another for himself; in some weaver’s
families there may be four looms. If these were kept
constantly at work, a weaver’s family might be better
off than some other classes of labourers. On ajacquard
loom a weaver can earn 25s: a week; on a velvet, or
rich plain silk loom, from 16s. to 20s.; and ona plain
silk loom from 12s. to 14s., excepting when the silk is
bad and requires much cleaning, when his earnings are
reduced to 10s. per week, and on a few inferior fabrics
to 8s. But the quantity of work is of course very
fluctuating. Ordinarily, the weaving population is
satisfied with a very low amount of household conve-
nience, and with meagre diet, and scanty clothing. But
i a season of commercial embarrassment, all enjoy-
ments, the least superfluous, are cut off; domestic
indulgences are at an end; “* and the family is put, like
a ship at sea, upon short allowance.” Then the little
stock of furniture and clothing, which had been accu-
mulated during a period of full employment, is gradually
pledged or sold, frequently at a great loss; and then
ensues the abject misery, such as we have seen it in the
spring of the present year.
Subscriptions will never cure the misery of Spital-
fields. Thus, during the late distress, it would have
required from 50002. to 6000/. per week to make up the
deficiency in the amount of wages usually earned; and
this extending over a period of a few months, would
soon outstretcli a subscription. And just as carrion
birds scent the carcass, so many of the worthless and
idle, on the least whisper of a subscription, flock into
Spitalfields, hire some of the miserable and empty —
apartments, always ready to be let, and endeavour to
intercept the bounty from the really destitute weaver.
The only effectual mode of relieving the misery of
Spitalfields would be, by a resolute effort on the part of
the more able and younger portion of the weavers to
divert their labour into some other channel. Some o*
them are fellowship porters, and are employed in
unloading vessels at the London Docks during seasons
of distress. Others find similar employment, though
not fellowship porters, and many attend Billingse@ate
and other niarkets, to carry fish and other articles of
sale. A considerable number are too feeble for great
bodily exertion, and many of them scatter themselves
over the town hawking oranges, epples, and other
matters. During periods of distress, also, the children
of the weavers attend a market held at Bethnal Green
every Monday, and are hired by the shopkeepers in the
adjoining parishes, as nurses of children, errand boys
and girls. But all these exertions are merely palliative ;
whenever trade revives, young and old rush back to it,
to be again exposed to similar misery whenever a re-
action occurs.*
Leaving Spitalfields, and passing Whitechapel (a
visit to Rosemary Lane, alias Rag Fair, will bring us
back to it) let us cross London Bridge, and enter South-
wark. Hich Street, the main street of the Borough,
is on a line with the bridge. Wellington Street, the
new approach to the bridge on the Southwark side, is,
like King William Street, on the opposite or city side,
quite new and spacious; and at first a visitor would
not think he had entered the ancient borougli of South-
wark. But a little higher up, we are in the High
* There is a graphic description of the external aspect of
Spitalfields in ‘Glances at Life in City and Suburbs,” by Cor-
nelius Webbe—a lively and entertaining volume ; and the author
of ‘England and America’ has made the distress of Spitalfields,
and the increase of gin-shops, subservient to one of his arguments,
1837.]
Street, with its town-hall, and church, and shop-like
post-office ; and here we might imagine we were in the
main street of a bustling country-town. Upwards of
one-half of the hop-dealers of the metropolis have their
shops or establishments in the High Street; and of the
remainder the ereater portion are in the immediate
neighbourhood, ‘The other occupants of the High
Street are dealers of every description, woollen and
linen drapers, butchers, cheesemongers, hardware mer-
chants, surgeons, chemists, tobacconists, tea-dealers, &c.,
with sundry waggon-inns and public-houses.
But though the hop-dealers are thus congregated in
the Borough, there are no brewers to speak of, with the
single exception of the huge establishment of Barclay,
Perkins, and Co, ‘This, originally, belonged to Mr.
Thrale, the friend of Dr. Johnson, but was very greatly
enlarged after if came into the hands of the new pro-
prietors. Dr. Johnson was one of Thrale’s executors,
and the‘establishment was sold by him, and his brother
executor, to Barclay, Perkins, and Co., for 135,000.
In a note to the late edition of ‘ Boswell’s Johnson’ it
is stated that Thrale paid 20,000/. a-year to the revenue,
and that he had four vats, each of which held 1600
barrels, above 1000 hogsheads. ‘‘ The establishment
is now the largest of its kind in the world. ‘The build-
ines extend over ten acres, and the machinery includes
two steam-engines. ‘The store-cellars contain 126 vats,
varying in their contents from 4000 barrels down to
500. About 160 horses are employed in conveying
beer to different parts of London. The quantity brewed
in 1826 was 380,180 barrels, upon which a duty of 10s.
the barrel, or 180,090/., was paid to the revenue; and
in the last year (1834) the malt consumed exceeded
100,000 quarters.”
Boswell tells a story about Dr. Johnson when he
was acting at the sale of Thrale’s brewery. He ‘“‘ap-
peared bustling about, with an ink-horn and pen in his
button-hole, like an exciseman; and on being asked
what he really considered to be the value of the pro-
perty which was to be disposed of, answered, ‘ We are
not here to sell a parcel of boilers and vats, but the
potentiality of growing rich beyond the dreams of
avarice.» ‘The story, however, is given as somewhat
apocryphal. :
Barclay, Perkins, and Co.’s establishment is in Park
Street, in the Borough. The other brewers have their
establishments in different parts of the metropolis ;—
Truman, Hanbury, Buxton, and Co., have an establish-
ment in Spitalfields. The great porter-breweries of
London produce from 1,800,000 to 2,000,000 barrels
of beer annually.
FACTS DEDUCED FROM THE REGISTRATION
TABLES OF BIRTHS AND DEATHS IN THE
PRUSSIAN STATES.
Tuoucu Prussia does not possess a popular govern-
ment based on elective rights, it is generally considered
one of the best administered countries in Europe, and
as enjoying by far the most perfect provincial organiza-
tion. Prussia has for some time possessed the advan-
tages of a system of public instruction, which, although
some of its advantages may have been rather osten-
tatiously set forth, has been regarded as a model by
the governments of other countries in which a national
system of education has been proposed. An accurate
register of births and deaths has been kept in Prussia
since the year 1820; and statistical inquirers in Eng-
land have been frequently eompelled to resort to the
data which if affords for information on the subject
of population, our own imperfect system offering no
materials of so authentic a character. This defect
will in time be corrected by. the Act for the Regis-
tration of Births and Deaths, which has lately come
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
| into operation.
395
In the mean time, as the subject of
registration has, in a variety of ways, occupied a con-
siderable degree of attention, we have selected some of
the most prominent results presented by ‘ A Statistical
View of the Births and Deaths in the Prussian States,
in the Fifteen Years from 1820 to 1834;’ compiled by
M. Hoffman, Director of the Statistical Bureau of Ber-
lin, and translated from the German by Mr. Deverell,
of the London Statistical Society.
In the Prussian States (with che exception of Neunf-
chatel, and of the Principality of Lichtenberg, which
was acquired only in the year 1834,) there were born
in the fifteen years ending 1834—males, 3,906,544 ;
females, 3,686,473 ; total, 7,593,017. There died
within the same period—males, 2,814,742; females,
2,642,467—total, 5,457,209.
The census of the population is taken every three
years. ‘he arithmetical mean of each triennial period
since 1820 gives the average number of inhabitants for
the three years; which, for 1820-1-2, was 11,374,563;
and for 1832-3-4, 13,256,867. In the first of these
periods, the number of births was 48.7; in the second,
39.5 ;—for each 1000 of the population: the number
of deaths in the first period was 26.33 in the latter
period, 31.6; for each 1000 of living contemporaries.
The deaths in the first period were 1 in 38, and the
births 1 to very near 23 living’: in the second period
the deaths were rather more than 1 in 31, and there
was on an average 1 born to 26 living. ‘The mortality
had therefore increased, and the number of births had
decreased. In a circular issued by the Registrar-Ge-
neral for England, the probable number of births and
deaths for every 1000 of the population, may, it is
stated, be expected to run as follows :—births, from 27
to 30; deaths, from 19 to 21. The number of births
is larger, and of deaths fewer, in England than in
Prussia, according to the Prussian register and the
Kinelish estimate.
Yt has been long known that there are more males
born than females. In the fifteen years the proportion
was 10,597 males to 10,000 females; or very nearly
106 males to 100 females. Amonest the Jews who
reside in Prussia, the proportion is still higher; being
11,12] males for 10,000 females.
In enumerating the ages of persons who have died,
the attempt to ascertain the exact age of those who are
above 90 years old is not strictly insisted upon; as it
happens that, amongst the uneducated classes, very old
persons have frequently forgotten the year of their
birth ; and the natural desire to attract notice, as in-
stances of longevity, occasions exaggerated statements.
The total number of deaths in the fifteen years has
already been stated as 5,457,209. In each 1000 deaths
515.7 are males and 484.2 females. Of these there
die before the completion of their
Males. Females. Total.
Srdvyeat ws... 0.016.393 ...¢. 181.6 » 398.9
i ee) ee eee 73.2
A a ee Ae AUR L e Se
25th ‘9 eee@eccove PARR eee Ooo ee Wes Ones
45th 5) a OP ee 5ST0. . 110.0
60th ,, WR or oO . 0 enn BS Dae 109.8
SOth 99 @eeeve eee 86.9 eeece 90.7 ee 177.6
After 80th year ... 18.5 .e.o56 19-2 wooo. 38.7
Some striking facts are presented in regard to the
mortality amongst children. Of 7,593,017 children
born in this period of fifteen years, there were 257,068
born dead, or about J still-birth in 30: The number
of children who died before the completion of their
first year was 1,296,824, or 17 out of every 100,
which is more than 1 out of every 6 children born.
Including those who were born dead, and who died
before the completion of their first year, the number of
deaths amount to 1,653,892, or above 1 out of every
5 children born, M. Hoffman remarks that “ the
3k 2
396
number of children born dead, and the number dying
in their first year, might assuredly be diminished by the
influence of competent circumstances and of moral
habits; inasmuch as the former would admit of more
indulgence and attention to the wants of mothers and
children among the great mass of the people ; while the
latter would occasion the prevalence of more maternal
care ;” but the number of children who do not survive
the first year of their life will always remain very con-
siderable. The difference in the mortality of male and
female children in the above table cannot fail to be
remarked. Of the total number of children born the
excess of males is at first very near 6 per cent.; but in
consequence of the greater amount of mortality among
the male children, it is diminished at the end of the first
year to 12 per cent.
Between the 14th and 60th years of life, the number
of each sex who died in the fifteen years was 739,701
males, and 739,028 females; thus showing that the
causes of death acted with equal energy on both sexes.
From the 10th to the completion of the 14th year, the
deaths consisted very nearly of an equal number of each
sex, viz., 50,559 males, and 50,460 females. [rom the
age of 20 to 25 the mortality of males-greatly prepon--
derated ; for in this period the deaths were—males,
81,096; females, only 64,184. From the 25th to the
45th year of life, the proportion of deaths was reversed,
particularly in the numbers from the 30th to the 40th
year, which were—males, 133,439 ; females, 160,391.
Immediately after the 45th year, the excess of mortality
began again to appear on the male side, and continued,
though less considerably, to the completion of the 60th
year, since in that period there died, of males, 309,295 ;
females, 290,672 ;—that is, an excess of 18,623 males.
After the 60th year, there died, in each successive
period of five years, a greater number of females than
of males; viz., 575,677 males, and 601,625 females ;
the excess of females being 25,948. It appears, there-
fore, from the preceding data, that the greater mor-
tality of females occurs from the age of 25; and that
in males the age of 20 to 25 is one in which death
destroys a greater number than in the years which
immediately precede or follow. In the latter portion
of middle life, from the 45th to the 60th vear, the
mortality is greater among males than among fe-
males. The 60th year is outlived by a less number
of men than of women. In both sexes, more than half
those who outlive the age of 25 survive also the age
of 60.- After the 60th year, the mortality of the
women is in no degree greater than the mortality of the
men: on the contrary, women, for the most part, live
somewhat longer than the men, on account, probably,
of their being more temperate. In the table inserted
above it appears that subsequent to the 60th year
more women have died than men; but this arises solely
from the fact, that the number of those above 60 is
larger among the females than among the males.
We have not space at present to enter into a review
of the principal causes of death. Birth itself is shewn,
by the registration tables of M. Hoffman, to be one of
the most frequent causés of mortality. Old age is the
most inevitably fatal; and nearly one-eighth of the
total number of deaths arises from decrepitude ; which
was also the immediate cause of the death of more than
half of those who died beyond the sixtieth year. Nine-
sixteenths of the men and three-fifths of the women
died solely from old age. Out of 16,680 cases of
suicide, 13,699 were males and 2981] females, and out
of 73,686 fatal accidents, there were 55,818 males
and 17,868 females. The proportion of violent deaths
is 1 in 40 among the males, and | in 127 among the
females. The proportion of deaths from small-pox,
which once oczasioned such devastation, was 1 in 122
for the fifteen years. M. Hoffman remarks that, “ greatly
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
[OcTonEr 14,
interesting as if would be to possess a complete and
correct account of the agency of each, separate form of
disease in producing death, the population is yet too
ereatly deticient in that denseness, opulence and mental
culture, which is requisite in order to furnish a compre-
hensive and authentic classification of deaths with
revard to their causes.” M. Hoffman states that,
after a conference with the body of provincial autho-
rities at Berlin, in 1817, the attempt to procure this
information was abandoned. ‘The causes of death are
therefore only exhibited in the leading features of disease,
accident, decay, and other natural causes.
SKETCHES OF THE PENINSULA.—No. XI.
ALEMTEJO.
NOTWITHSTANDING the fine climate of Portugal, and the
ease with which crops of all kinds suited to the soil or
situation are raised, there are vast tracts of land which
remain totally-uncultivated. This is more particularly
the case in the extensive plains of the middle provinces.
The Alemtejo, though at present more productive of
corn and grain than any other province in the kingdom,
is that which possesses the largest quantity of waste
land. Except in the immediate vicinity of the cities or
towns few farm-houses are to be met with; and a few
straggling vineyards may oceasionally be seen, like the
oases in the desert, strugeling for existence amidst the
arid wastes; but far too few of either to give the ap-
pearance of cultivation. The great want of water in
the summer season may in some degree account for
this; but the chief cause is the apathy and absence of
energy amongst the great landed proprietors. Sunk in
sloth and Inxury, these men care but little for the im-
provement of their property, preferringy present ease to
the prospect of future profit. The pleasures, such as
they are, of the capital, the intrigues of the court, and
a seat at Cintra, form the objects of ambition to a
Portuguese noble. The prosperity of his tenants or
the welfare of his dependents are subjects which seldom
enter into his contemplation; and the natural conse-
quence 1s, that agriculture remains stationary. In fact
there is no inducement to improvement; the corruption
of the government, and the avarice of those in power,
cause the rich farmer to tremble for his hard-earned gains;
while the factor, employed by his landlord, never fails to
appropriate a share to himself: thus harassed on every
side, the farmer, to be at peace, must be poor. ‘This
state of things causes a complete stoppage in the growth
of agricultural knowledge. The plough in use at the
present day has every appearance of the highest anti-
quity; the agricultural carts seem not to have been im-
proved in their construction for centuries; and the very
implements for digging the earth remind one forcibly
of the representations on the Egyptian monuments.
The vine and the olive are almost the sole objects of
solicitude to the Portuguese farmer ; and indeed a failure
in either of these necessaries of life wonld be a most
serious calamity. ‘The olive however reqnires little
attention after the first plantation: there is indeed but
little trouble, further than to gather it when ripe,and
to prepare it either for food, or for the oil, both essential
articles of consumption in the domestic economy of the
Portuguese. The oil extracted from the fruit is ex-
tremely pure, and the process of extraction simple.
The olives are carefully cleaned, and the stalks and
unsound fruit removed, when they are thrown into a
mill, which bruises them into a coarse paste; they are
‘then placed in vessels made for the purpose, and heated
by a slow fire; the heat causes the oil to rise to the
top, and a conduit conveys it into another vessel where
it settles, the impurities sinking to the bottom, and the
good oil floating as in the first process: it is then cooled
and poured off into large jars, either for use or sale.
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[Gathering Olives. ]
The method of gathering the olive varies in different
parts of the Peninsula. The most general way in
Portugal, however, is to beat them down with long
poles, and afterwards collect thein in sacks, or baskets.
Both the oil and the fruit are inferior by this method, as
the fall bruises the produce too much. ‘The Spaniards
gather them all by hand, and though the process is
more laborious and more expensive, ample compensation
is made in the superiority of these olives over those
beaten down by poles. When intended for food they
are prepared in two ways: one is simply to cut them
and soak them in salt and water, adding a few herbs to
give a flavour; the other is first to dry them in the
sun, whereby they become black, and afterwards to put
them in jars, with oil, salt, pepper, or other spices,
adding also a few herbs. When eaten by the natives,
they are invariably flavoured with oil and a little vinegar.
With us, olives are used only at the tables of the wealthy
as a luxury,—disagreeable enough to those who are un-
accustomed to their flavour; but in the countries of
their growth they are essential articles of food. The
shepherd takes nothing with him to the field but a little
bread, a flask of wine, and a horn of olives; the
carretiero, or carman, carries with him only his wine-
skin, his loaf, and olives; and the labourer in the field,
and the peasant in his cottage, often have nothing more
till nightfall : indeed bread and olives form an extremely
nutritive and refreshing diet.
The olive-tree is extremely picturesque and grotesque
in its form; the trunk sometimes consisting of a huge
niass of decayed wood, with young and graceful branches
springing from the top and sides; at other times a large
and bushy tree may be seen supported upon two or
more small fragments of the same apparently dead
wood, while the remainder of the trunk is completely
hollowed out. The wood burns readily when green,
and the leaves emit a strong sparkling flame, and ap-
parently contain much oil. The ground between the
olive trees is not lost, being frequently sown with erain,
and sometimes, though rarely, planted with vines. The
deep colour of the foliage of this most useful tree gives a
solemn character to the landscape, and subdues the usual
vivid brilliancy of colour—the effect of the clearness
of the atmosphere and the heat of the climate. Green,
such as adorns our own meadows, is a colour never seen
in a Portuguese landscape: the scanty herbage, which
springs up spontaneously, is burned by the sun into a
bright straw colour; and the soil, through the great
heat, becoines almost white.- On the sides of the hills,
however, the beautiful pale purple flower of the wild
thyme, and the delicate grey of its leaf, contrast prettily
with the surrounding glare; and it is only the olive
with its deep hues and the low bushy vines which can
claim the name of green. The cultivation of the orange
and the lemon is confined chiefly to the neighbourhood
of large cities, very few groves of these fruits being
met with in the open country.
As the manner of rearing the vine is somewhat pe-
culiar in the Peninsula, we shall close this article with a
brief notice of it. We are accustomed in Italy, and in
some parts of France, to see the vine gracefully curling
around the poles placed in the earth for their support,
and the rich fruit hanging in large bunches from every
branch; but in the Peninsula, the vine is’cut down
almost to the ground, and in winter has much the ap-
pearance of a withered and blackened stump. With
spring, however, the branches shoot out in every direc-
tion till they attain the size of a currant-bush, which,
indeed, they very much resemble. Only a few of these
branches are suffered to remain, and those which are left
are cut at the end to prevent them running into useless
wood: the vine thus trimmed produces from eight to a
dozen bunches; but these are of a superior flavour, and
make the best wines. When the grapes are gathered,
which is done with great care, and mostly by women, the
inferior bunches are suffered to remain for a day or two,
398
when they also are gathered, and manufactured into a
wine of lower quality, or hung up to dry for winter con-
sumption. Immense quantities of grapes are cultivated
also for the table, and the favourite Muscatel finds its
way to Britain. The wine known by that name must
be drank in its own country to be duly appreciated, for,
from its exceeding richness, it loses its flavour by travel-
ling; even passing the Tagus depreciates it in quality ;
and the denizens of Lisbon, when they want to enjoy a
glass of Muscatel wine in perfection, cross the river to
some of the many wine stores on the Almada side. The
method of manufacturing wine has been before treated
of in the ‘ Penny Magazine.’
A MONTH AT SEA.
Tue following is an account of a real voyage, perfectly
true, except in one respect. For obvious reasons the
names are all changed. As to every other particular,
the scene is presented exactly as it appeared to the eye
and the imagination of a landswoman.
Some weeks before the sailing of the packet, ] went
on board, as she lay alongside the wharf on the East
River, New York, to select my state-room. I engaged
one for myself and Miss Saunders, who was one of the
party with whom I had arranged to cross the ocean. I
bore in mind the exhortation I had received from an
experienced sailor, to secure a berth on the starboard
side of the ladies’ cabin; for the sake, among other
reasons, of being out of the way of the scents and
sounds of the steward’s pantry. The state-room I
secured was on the starboard side. The captain wrote
my name and Miss Saunders’s on slips of paper, which
he pinned to the curtains of the berths. He then in-
troduced me to the stewardess, Margaret, a bonny,
obliging Scotch girl, whose countenance and mauner
pleased me exceedingly.
The ship, which I shall call the Eurydice, was not so
new, so clean, so convenient, as most on the line; but
there were considerations in favour of our going by her
which overbalanced these objections. The high cha-
racter of the captain, and his being a personal friend of
some of our party, were the chief inducements to us to
go by the Eurydice. She sailed too on the Ist of
August, which was the season at which we wished to
cross.
The day before we were to sail, [ was informed that
Miss Lamine, a passenger, had been to the ship, and
had removed Miss Saunders’s ticket from the curtain of
the berth, and substituted her own, on the ground of
Miss Saunders’s passage having been only conditionally
engaged. This was true; but it was no excuse for
the lady’s ill-manners. As anything is better than
squabbling anywhere, and particularly on board ship,
where people cannot get out of each other’s way, I gave
up the point, surrendering my berth to Miss Saunders,
who was an invalid, and taking up with a state-room
on the larboard side, which I had to share with a
young orphan girl, Kate, who, being left destitute by
the recent death of both her parents, was allowed by
the captain’s kindness to work her way over to her
friends in Wales, by assisting the stewardess.
My things were packed so as to occasion the least
possible trouble to myself and the people on board.
Some passengers are not so considerate as they should
be about this. The ladies’ cabin is smal] enough at
best; and it should never be crowded with trunks and
bandboxes, for people to tumble over in rough weather.
Such incumbrances are unsightly, too; and in a situa-
tion like that of being on board ship, every care should
be taken to avoid offence to eye or inind. The ladies’
cabin should be as ueat as any parlour in a private
house.
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
LL pC a pr
[Ocroser 14,
room will easily held, may be made to contain all that
is necessary for a month’s voyage; with the addition of
a few good books, in which the owner’s name should be
written, and which should not be too fine to be willingly
lent.
I carried no stores. Everything requisite for good
eating and drinking is so abundantly provided on board
these packets, that it is useiess to burden oneself with
anything more. Some of the ladies found comfort in
ginger lozenges, and each should have a vinaigrette.
I do not remember that anything else was in request.
Warm clothing is essential to comfort. While basking
in a July sun on shore, it is difficult to believe how
bitter the cold will be a few miles out at sea: but no
amount of cloaks, furs, and woollen over-shoes can be
too great for comfort during the first and last days of
a voyage, usually the coldest of the term. ‘There is
much comfort in having two cloaks; one to wear, and
another to wrap round the feet on cold days, and in a
hi¢h wind.
The Ist of August was an intensely hot day: I looked
with amazement at my boa, fur tippet, warm cloak and
eown, and wondered whether it was possible that I
should in a few hours be shivering, in spite of them all.
About eleven o’clock, the passengers assembled on
board a steam-boat which was to convey them to their
ship. Some, of whom I was one, were attended by
friends who meant to accompany them as far as Sandy
Hook, the southern point of New York bay. It was a
dismal morning, sad with the sorrows of parting, We
tried to amuse ourselves after we had stepped on board
by showing the ship to the children who were to return.
I was rather dismayed to see the range of water-cask3
on ‘deck, looking like a very ugly encumbrance. In
the more modern packets they are out of sight.
We were towed out of the harbour by a steamer;
and the motion was so smooth, the shores so bright,
and the luncheon in the cabin so gcod, that the children
evidently thought a voyage must be an extremely plea-
sant affair. They little knew how heavy were the
hearts of their parents and friends round the table, with
the parting glass at their lips, and parting emotions
strugeling in their hearts.
A certain square box of mine contained some papers
of value; and this circumstance was meutioned to the
captain by a mutual friend, without my knowledge,
The captain said the box should not go down into the
hold with the rest, but should stand under the table in
the gentlemen’s cabin, where it would be in nobody’s
way, and would be kept dry. It will be seen what grew
out of this small circumstance.
The characters of the passengers will appear in tne
course of the narrative. At present they may be thus
indicated. My own party consisted of Professor Ely
and his lady; Miss Saunders; Mr. Tracy, a youth just
from college, and going to travel in Europe with the
professor and his lady; and Lieutenant Browning, of
the American navy. With Miss Lamine was an old
Dutch lady, Mrs. Happen. A very stout widow lady,
with her two daughters, Irish, and strangers to us all,
and Miss Taylor, the captain’s invalid sister, made up
the number of ladies. An elderly Scotch gentleman,
Mr. Bruce, appeared after two days, havine been laid
up in his berth with a bruised leg. Some young men
from New Orleans and Mobile; Dr. Sharp, Mr. Simpson,
Mr. Larkin, and Mr. Mann, were the only others that
I now remember.
By four o'clock we were off Sandy Hook, and it was
necessary for our New York friends to return. J pro-
mised to send them a minute journal of the events of
our voyage. With a few suppressions and amplifica-
tions the following is what I sent them : —
August 3. Already I feel or believe myself able to —
A carpet bag and bandbox, such as the state-! write; if you can but manage to read an unsteady |
|
:
1537]
serawl on damp paper. Fortified by chicken broth,
red with cayenne pepper, I begin my journal :—
Before we had quite lost sight of your steamer the
pilot began to be in a hurry to be off. “ Haul away,
boys, and no humbugging,” cried he. Soon after, he
told the captain to “sail due east, and keep the white
buoy on his weather bow,’’ and departed—too soon—
before we were over the bar; and the captain was too
anxious to go down to dinner. Mrs. Ely was too much
of something else, and so sat still in the round-honse
(the sort of summer-house on deck, built round the
head of the stairs leading down into the cabin). Miss
Saunders went down with me, still declaring that no
Saunders was ever yet sea-sick since the world began.
Presently, however, she said at table, “ Shall I pass
you?” and glad enough she was to get into the air.
he motion of the ship now became unpleasant, and I
was not sorry when the ladies left their dessert {o repair
to the deck.
I found that Mrs. Ely did now present a model of
colouring for a portrait-painter; her eyes and lips
being yellow, and her cheeks ash-colour. I tried to
read the Boston newspapers I had received in the
morning, but was too heavy at heart, and found thein
strangely uninteresting. Just before I went down for
the night, at seven o'clock, 1 was cheered by a single
charm in Miss Saunders—a precious look and gesture
of fun in the midst of distress. O the worth of good-
humour at sea! What a contrast was here to Miss
Lamine, who made a noise all evening and night, such
as was never heard in these upper regions before, I
should think. She was evidently anxious that every
one on board should know the extent of her sufferings.
The captain told me in the morning that he had been
explaining to his sister that “ noise does no good, and
is not fair,”
When, in the morning with much toil I got myself
on deck (the only lady), the captain congratulated me
on our rough sea and rapid progress: “* very good for
the sea-sick.” These favourable circumstances, how-
ever, sent me down before noon, to re-appear no more
till evening. ‘The captain is as kind as a brother, and
as handy as a lady’s maid. In the midst of our dis-
tresses, Margaret’s innocent face and kind voice are a
comfort to see and hear. ‘To set against these solaces,
the flies are almost intolerable, notwithstanding my
state-room (which it was thought would not be wanted)
being luxuriously hung with cobwebs. These flies
must be of American extraction, to judge by the perti-
nacity of their disposition. Only two or three showed
the breeding of English flies in keeping away after a
certain number of rebuffs. What can be the reason of
the difference between your flies and ours in pertinacity ?
If Margaret was driven at last to throw her apron over
her face, what must have been the annoyance to us
invalids? I lay on the sofa. If wish. you haa seen the
august captain approach, pepper-box in hand, and fol-
lowed by a cup of hot chicken-broth. I felt seasoned
for half a century, and took to the ‘ Life of Mackintosh,’
of which I read half a volume before laying the book
down. Then I thought of three particularly pleasant
things, which you said to me on Sunday and Monday.
Can you remember or imagine what they were? I will
only say that they were nothing personal. ‘Then I
toiled up on deck to see the sun set ; admired him the
minute before; and then forgot all about him till ‘he
had disappeared. lieutenant Browning offered me
the astronomical comfort of assuring me that I had
really seen the last of the sun, and that it was only the
refraction that I had missed. This was about as ef-
fectual as consolation usnally is.
Thinking that the captain looked grave about his
poor flock of ladies, and knowing that nothing is more
dispiriting to the captain than the absence of passen-
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
‘called ?
399
gers from the table, I plunged down into the cabin to
tea, and staid an hour, beguiled by some pleasant con-
versation.
Some remarkable events have happened to-day.
Mrs. Happen’s cat has caught a mouse. This opens
a prospect of some un-looked for provision, in case of
our voyage being three months’ long, and our stock
failing. Professor Ely has donned his sea-dress, popping
his head up the stairs in a cap, which must have been
a grenadier’s. We dubbed him Captain Ely. Dr.
Sharp is disconsolate for want of ‘* two small buttons ”
for the straps of his pantaloons. He implored the
steward to furnish him with some,—in vain. The
under-steward,—in vain also. The captain. The
captain was brought down into the cabin, to hear this
petition ; and offered that ‘‘ two small buttons ” should
be cut off his own pantaloons for Dr. Sharp’s use ;—
which Dr. Sharp accepted! Miss Saunders saw a
Portuguese wan-of-war before I did, which makes me
Jealous. Do you know why this little fish is thus
I have endeavoured in vain to learn. Some
wae says that it is because, as soon as a gale rises, it
fills and goes down; but this must be said out of some
special erudge against the Portuguese navy. I have
seen these beautiful little mariners of the deep of various
hues and sizes, some as large as my fist, some as small
as my grandmother’s teacups. I have seen them of a
rich violet, of a pale lilac, and of a dingy pink; their
hue evidently not depending wholly on the sunshine or
shade in which they may be gliding. Before I became
acquainted with them, I fancied that they floated ouly
in sunshine, and on a calm sea; but I have seen thei
in almost all weathers. They are most beautiful when
shining on the surface of a deep blue sea; but they
allow themselves to be tossed about on thé crests of
troubled waves, and turned over and over in rough
weather, before ‘“‘ they fill and eo down.” I never
handled one. The sailors are unwilling to catch them ;
and when they do, are careful to fetch them up in bowls
or nets, and to avoid touching the fish; as, on being
touched, it discharges a fluid which raises a large blister
on the skin, and is very painful. The part of the fish
which answers to the shell of the nautilus is soft,—a
mere membrane; but its form is that of a nautilus
shell, and it floats like a tiny but substantial boat, the
fibrous parts of the little fish depending and moving as
it changes its direction. Except the dolphin, I think
the Portuguese man-of-war the prettiest of the inhabit-
ants of the deep which coine to the surface to delight
the eye of the passenger.
I saw to-day two Mother Carey’s chickens. We
shall have them now sporting about our ship all the
way. I wish we could change our swarms of flies into
these pretty creatures.
Mrs. Happen’s quick eye saw my box under the
table in the gentlemen’s cabin. She says ‘“ If some
people’s boxes are taken care of, so shall other people’s
be;” and she has actually ordered the steward to bring
up her trunks from between decks, and put them in the
same place. Her jealousy being once roused, there
will be no more peace in her mind all the voyage.. She
quarrelled with the captain at the dinner-table, for
letting the lamp in the ladies’ cabin blow out at two in
the morning. He answered by sending us the bin-
nactle lamp, which cannot blow out. He is much too
eood to her. She is on bad terms with several of the
passengers already.
The captain has been making war against the flies,
sweeping thousands of them out of the skylight to the
birds; so that they will be changed into Mother Carey's
chickens in a different way from what I meav‘ He
brought me down a chick of Mother Carey’s brood.
Pretty creature! with its long legs and yellow web-feet,
and curious hooked beak! It stumbled and fluttered
400
about the deck, and then we let it get away. I never
could conceive before how these birds walked on the
water, which I saw they certainly did. They never
leave us, flitting about, apparently without rest, from
the time we are out of sight of land, till we come near
itagain. They are in flocks of from two or three to
thirty or forty. They feed on the refuse food thrown
from the ship.
The captain lashed up a stool on the rail, to serve
for the back of a chair. Here I sat in the breeze, en-
joying some feelings of health again, and proceeding
rapidly with ‘ Mackintosh’s Life, which is very inte-
resting.
Mrs. Ely is on deck to-day, dizzy but better. The
other ladies are still disconsolate, and show no dispo-
sition to be sociable.
4th. A heavenly day: the perfection of sailing. It
is unreasonable to expect more than one such day in a
month’s voyage. The wind was fair, mild, and baliny ;
the sea radiant in all directions. The captain gave
orders to “square the yards” (a delightful sound al-
ways), and we cut steadily through the waves all day,
—-perceiving only in the cabin that we were on the
sighing bosom of the deep. Our sails being all set,
ihe captain and crew seemed quite at leisure. I saw
no less than six Portuguese men-of-war, wetting their
lilac sails in the purple sea. I could not Jeave such a
sieht, even for the amusement of hauling over the letter-
bags. Mr. Ely put on his spectacles; Mrs. Ely drew
a chair; others lay along on deck to examine the super-
scriptions of the letters from Irish emigrants and others
to their friends. It is wonderful how some of these
epistles reach their destination; the following, for
instance, begun at the top left-hand corner, and
elaborately prolonged to the bottom right one:—
“Mrs. A. B. ile of man douglas wits sped England.”
The letter-bags are opened for the purpose of sorting
out those which are for delivery in port from the rest.
A fine day is always chosen, generally towards the end
of a voyage, when amusements become scarce, and the
passengers are growing weary. It is pleasant to sit
ou the rail, and see the group of passengers gathered
round the heap of letters, and to hear the shouts of
merriment when any exceedingly original superscription
comes under notice. Though the ladies seemed by
this time all well, some of them showed no disposition
to render themselves agreeable; and the captain was
thus tempted to an early development of all his re-
sources of amusement. . ;
Mrs. Happen presently came up, and indulged in a
passion of tears. Her cat is missing, and she is sure
some cruel person has thrown it overboard, because
somebody wrune her Poll-parrot’s neck on her first
voyave. We suggested that it was more probable that
pussy, feeling frightened, had hidden herself, and
would re-appear. But the weeping lady was sure that
all was over with pussy. At dinner, her eyes were
mich swollen, but she was disposed for some turkey,
and sent her plate to Mr. Ely for some, begging that it
might be without bone. He sent her a plump wine,
which’ she returned with an order to him to take the
bones out. In the evening, there was a bustle on deck :
all the stewards were running with hot water and cold,
and the ladies with “ eau-de-Cologne.” Mrs. Happen
was hysterical,—fainting, from the news having been
too suddenly imparted to her that her cat had re-
appeared in the cabin. Mrs. Happen’s negro-maid,
Sally, has orders to keep her mistress’s state-room so
shut up (in August) as that pussy may not hide herself
again,
The two Miss O’Briens appeared to-day on deck,
speaking to nobody, sitting on the same seats, with
their feet on the same letter-bag, reading two volumes
of the same book, and dressed alike, even to the yellow |
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
[OcroBer 14, 1837,
spectacles, which are so far unbecoming as that they
make good grey eyes look grass-green. ‘lheir mother
has not yet appeared at table, and keeps her pillows
about her; but I twice saw her during dinner steal to
the steward’s pantry, and come forth with a replenished
plate, in addition to the lobster-salad we sent her.
There is fear that she will not shrink materially, though
she assures Mrs. Ely that “a spare diet is the only
thing at sea.” In this opinion I do not agree with her.
I have reason to think a full and generous diet neces-
sary to health at sea,—and particularly during the
season of sickness. ‘The reason, I believe, why some
do not think so, is that they feel ill and miserable after
eating: but they should remember how ill and miserable
they felt before eating; and how much more so they
might have beeu without eating. Disaereeable as is
the effort to eat during sea-sickness, I am persuaded
that, where it can be made, it obviates much suffering.
We begin to be uneasy about knowing nothing of
the steerage passengers. ‘Io he in the same bottom, on
the wide ocean, and to be strangers, cannot be right.
If some of the ladies prefer alienation, so be it: but we
mean to give the rest of the people the means of ac-
quaintanceship with us, if we can do it without intrusion.
What can these worthy folks, amidst their real priva-
tions, think of the story of Mrs. Happen’s troubles, if
the tale should reach their end of the ship ?
The stars came out softly in our wide sky; and the
sun set amidst indications of continued fair winds.
Mr. Browning shows me our place on the chart every
noon. We are about 400 miles from New York ;—
going further from you, the more we exult in our fair
breeze. We meant to have had a rnbber to-night, but
found the cabin too warm. Every body is on deck,
except some gentlemen who are at cards. Iam going
to see how the dim ocean looks under the stars. _
I found less dimness than light upon deck. The
captain never knew so sultry a night in this latitude. -
The sea was luminous; the exquisite light spreading
in a flood from every breaking wave. -There were
explosions of lightning from the cloudy west. We
dashed through the sea, and made great progress
during the night, having accomplished one-fifth of our
voyage by morning.
What a loss has there been of this elorious day
to such as were stormy within while all was bright
around !
[To be continued.}
lallen Leaves—We must not imagine that these fallen
leaves are entirely lost, and no longer useful; both reason
and experience inform us to the contrary. Nothing perishes,
nothing is useless in the world; consequently the leaves that
fall from trees and plants are of some use; they become —
putrid, and manure the earth. Snow and rain separate
the saline particles from them, and convey them to the
roots of trees; and when the leaves are thus strewed on
the ground they preserve the roots of young plants, form
a shelter to seeds, and retain round them the necessary
degree of heat and humidity. This is particularly remark-
able in oak-leaves; they furnish an excellent manure, not ©
only to the tree itself, but also to the tender shoots; and
they are particularly useful to pastures, by promoting the
growth of the grass which they cover. These advantages
are so important, that fallen leaves are never collected for
the purpose of throwing them away, unless they are in
such abundance that the grass is rather choked up than _
‘
nourished by them.—Sturm’s ‘ Reflections.’
*,* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at
59, Lincola’s Inn Fields.
LONDON: CHARLES KNIGHT & CO., 22, LUDGATE STREET.
Printed by W1.L1am CLowes and Sons, Stamford Street.
q
|
i
|
THE PENNY MAGAZINE
OF THE
society for the Diffusion:of Useful Knowledge.
PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY.
fOcropEr 21, 1837.
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[View of the = of Non.]
TuE Tyrol is one of the most interesting portions of the
Austrian dominions. Its modern history may be briefly
told. On the dismemberment of the Roman empire it
fell into the hands of feudal lords, who recognized as
their superiors the successive dukes of Bavaria. In the
course of time, two only of the several families who had
held the country retained their power, and they divided
the territory between them. A marriage, which united
these two families, paved the way for the feudal supe-
riority of a single house. Margaret Maultasche, the last
member of this family, was connected by marriage with
the House of Austria; and on her decease, in 1359, the
possession of the Tyrol devolved upon that house. ‘This
circumstance may account for the attachment of the
Tyrolese to Austrian dominion. ‘The union was not the
result of conquest; instead of being cemented by blood,
it arose out of circumstances which transferred the
sovereignty to other hands without violence. In con-
sequence of the steady attachment of the Tyrolese to
Austria, they have been permitted to enjoy their ancient
privileges, though latterly they have been infringed
upon, The country has possessed a representative
system since the year 1420, and the peasants send
Vou. VI.
deputies to the State Assembly. ‘The natural dignity
of these mountaineers renders them worthy of this dis-
tinction. Altogether, there is more liberty enjoyed in
the Tyrol than in any other part of the Austrian
dominions. FPolitical knowledge is, however, carefully
sifted before being allowed to circulate; and as an
example of this it may be stated, that one year after the
Revolution in France, in 1830, the ‘Tyrolese were not
acquainted with the real character of that event. The
journals under the Austrian censorship had been per-
mitted merely to announce a change in the sovereignty.
The Tyrol is one of the most exclusively mountainous
countries in Europe, containing a smaller relative pro-
portion of open country than Switzerland. This physical
circumstance has had a great effect upon the character
and political fortunes of the inhabitants. ‘The Swiss,
like them, are mountaineers, but do not possess their
noble characteristics ; because Switzerland is less im-
pregnable, and is cut up into smal] divisions, in which
a highly-wrought spirit of patriotism, the great source
of Tyrolese character, cannot be so intensely felt. ‘Ihe
Tyrolese have preserved a spirit of independence through
a long series of years, for which they are entirely in-
A02
debted to their geographical position, which prevents
the approach of:.conquerors. During the struggle led
on by Hofer, they delivered their country from foreign
enemies in a single week. A handful of men, can
defend some of the most important mountain passes
against a whole army. The Tyrol is an important bul-
wark of Austria, and the inhabitants may be regarded
invaluable asa garrison. They are admirably adapted
for mountain warfare, but they do not make good
soldiers, the military discipline being especially irksome
to them. ‘They can never be so usefully employed as
in their own country, and hence it was the policy of
Austria to exempt them from many of the rigours of
the conscription, and to employ them in their own
country; but this privilege has been latterly less re-
spected. The influence of externa] circumstances is
visible everywhere. Innovation has made less progress
than in any other country. There are no Protestants,
but all continue in the religion of their forefathers.
Their patriotism, which is in the first place a conse-
quence of their mountain independence, is the preserva-
tion of old manners and customs. ‘The country derives
its name from a castle which stands about the centre of
the country, near the town of Meran. ‘This may be
considered Tyrol Proper, and here ancient habits have
undergone little or no change. ‘The Tyrolese are chiefly
of German extraction, but in the south the Italian cha-
racter distinguishes them. It is only on the frontiers
that the true Tyrolese habits have been altered. In
the neighbourhood of Trent, the peasantry are no
longer distinguished for the fine and noble aspect
which characterizes those of the centre and the obscure
lateral valleys of the Adige and the Inn.
Next to the mountains, the two great features of the
Tyrol are the valleys of the Inn and the Adige. ‘The
former of these rivers flows in the northern Tyrol from
west to east, and the latter, in the southern ‘T’yrol, from
north to south. The tributaries of these rivers form
lateral valleys of smaller dimensions. ‘The valley of
the Adige is above 100 miles in length, and perhaps
no similar tract of country contains such diversified
productions, and affords within so small a space a
better opportunity of studying the geography of agri-
culture. Mr. Inglis, in his ‘ Tour through the Tyrol,’
notices the order in which cnltivation occurs in this
valley. ‘* We have first barley, thin and scanty, and
a few hardy vegetables. We come next to Indian corn
of a poor growth, with barley more vigorous; oats,
grass, and firs: the third gradation brings us to a little
wheat, mingled with all these; and to some walnut-
trees, besides fir. In the fourth division of the valley
we find Indian corn and wheat growing Juxuriantly ;
vines beginning to appear; and fruit trees, especially
the cherry, in abundance. The fifth gradation shows
us, with all these productions, vines in luxuriance, and
magnificent walnut-trees, entirely superseding the har-
dier wood. At the sixth step we find some additions
to these—the mulberry begins to appear, and fruits of
the more delicate descriptions are found. ‘The seventh
division presents the vine in its perfection, the mul-
berry in its abundance, and the fruits we have seen
before in greater luxuriance. The eighth gradation
shows us with all that we have seen before, the olive,
pomegranate, and the fig.” (Vol. i, p. 137.) ‘The
valley being elevated in the north, and in the south
open only to the most genial quarter, will account for
this wide range of vegetable production.
Nhe aoriculture of the ‘Tyrol does not demand the
same faborious pains-taking and solicitude as that of
Switzerland. ‘The soil is more fruitful. Perseverance
and industry are proportionally relaxed, as if man
needed to be goaded on by an ever-pressing necessity.
The peasant generally owns the soil which he cul-
tivates. The system of spade husbandry, everywhere
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
{OcroBen 21,
practised, at once indicates the absence of laree farms.
In some districts the metayer system is in operation.
The production of wheat does not suffice for the actual
consumption of the country, and a supply is obtained
from Trieste and the neighbourhood. An immense
quantity of fruit is produced. ‘The cherries are some-
times as large as a small apricot. The walnuts, which
grow by the road-side, are also abundant and remark-
ably fine. The great resource of the cultivator is the
crop of Indian corn, which is more depended upon than
that of wheat. Bread is made of Indian corn and
wheat mixed, not as a matter of economy but of taste.
A peasant proprietor who owns about four acres of
tolerable land will maintain himself ina simple but
comfortable manner. One-third of this quantity of
land will be devoted to the growth of Indian corn;
half an acre to wheat; half an acre to barley; rather
more than an acre to grass for the cow, and wood for
fuel; and there will be a garden of a quarter of an
acre for cabbages, potatoes, salads, and fruit-trees. The
wheat is not all consumed; the surplus is exchanged
for coffee, and a few luxuries. A number of hens are
kept, and the eggs are sold at the neighbouring market.
Pigs are fed, and supply the family with flesh meat.
The labours of such a farm will not require more than
two persons, father and son. ‘The wife and daughters
spin and make the greatest part of the family clothing.
Ihe diet of a respectable peasant owning about four
acres 1s good and wholesome. Mr. Inglis has compared
with this the condition of a smajl freeholder in England
cultivating twelve acres with his own hands, and finds
the Tyrolese peasant with four acres is in much more
comfortable circumstances. He ascribes the advantage
to the culture and use of Indian corn by the latter.
‘It is eaten three times a day by all the members of
the same family in the shape of soup, with milk; and
is the bread of the family besides. And with a suffi-
ciency of bacon and vegetables, and fresh meat two or
three days in the fortnight, the Tyrolean peasant family
may be said to live comfortably. Coffee is considered
a luxury, and is only used occasionally.” (Vol. ii., p. 8.)
If the same quantity of land were cultivated with wheat,
the produce would not support an equal number of
persons. Perhaps the difference in the circumstances
of a small cultivator in the Tyrol and in England may
be traced to another cause. In the Tyrol all the culti-
vators are of one class, and one individual has the same
chance as another; but in England there are cultivators
on a large scale, who are able to apply to the soil
capital and skill with greater advantage and economy
than the small proprietor; and hence the cost of pro-
duction is less, on a given quantity of produce, to the
large than to the small proprietor; but as both must
submit to the same prices in the market, the surplus of
the smaller proprietor is relatively less.
It is evident from the circumstances in which the
agriculture of the country is placed that the Tyrol
must send forth its redundant population. The silk
manufacture and other branches of industry are not suf-
ficiently extensive to employ increasing numbers; and
though the transit of goods between Italy and Germany
employs a considerable number of individuals, yet it
does not increase to such a degree as to render necessary
any large and sudden addition to the number of those
who are engaged in it. Hence constant migration and
emigration are necessary for the welfare and happiness
of the country. It is said that between 30,000 and
40,000 ‘Tyrolese every year leave their country in search
of employment. Some merely go into the neighbouring
countries for a certain number of months in each year ;
but others proceed to distant lands, and accumulate a
little fortune as pedlars. Some of them are to be found
in this vocation in the United States of America. When
their great purpose is accomplished, they never fail to
4
d
1837.]
return to their own country; and perhaps in their |
native valley enjoy the well-earned fruits of their in-
dustry. There is something pleasing in this attach-
ment, which carries a man steadfastly through difficul-
ties, and after some few years brings him to the desired
object of his wishes.
The Tyrol is one of the least travelled countries of
Europe. Wealth alone does not suffice; and cannot
command, a survey of its beauties. The pedestrian
will see more and enjoy more than he who travels en
courver. Picturesque beauty of scenery ; primitive,
simple, and strongly-defined manners ;—thiese ate the
great charms for the tourist in the Tyrol. One of the
most picturesque of its valleys is répreseiitéd in the wood-
cut. This valley forms a channel for the river Non, a
tributary of the Adige. Though distinguished by two
different names, the valley i is one anid the same through-
out, the upper part beine the Val di Sole, and the
lower part the Val di Non. The scenery is at once
grand and striking, and the valley is said to resemble
a chain of mountains and ravines rather than a valley;
but the landscape does not want interesting objects,
castles, villages, and vineyards. It is the resort of many
of the inhabitants of Treut, who have erected houses to
which they retire in the summer. The paths leading
to it are not practicable at all seasons. Cles, on the
right bank of the Non, is a small and insignificant
village, where silk-worms are reared and a silk manu-
factory is carried on.
ASCENTS OF THE SILLA DE CARACCAS.
THE following account of an ascent of the Silla de
panions, in 1833, is abridged from the Transactions of
a Venezuelan | Society — Memorias de la Sociedad de
Amigos del Pais. No. 8, Caraccas, Agosta 30, de
1833: —
The party started on their éxpedition on the 30th
of August, 1833, from the city of Caraccas. They
were sixteen in number, all of them young men.
Having provided themselves with a guide, some ex-
cellent instruments, and abundance of eatables, they
set off on their march, and spent the first evening in
the house of a farmer. [Hfaving made every arrang‘e-
ment for reaching the summit of Avila that day, they
resumed their march at half-past six in the morning
taking a north-east direction across part of a coffee
plantation belonging to the farm.
As they ascended, the vigour of the vegetation im-
proved until they arrived at a place where they met
large and lofty trees growing in a humid soil; and
they also fell in with rare and beautiful plants at every
step. ‘They arrived safe, at ten in the morning, at an
agreeable level, surrounded by peaks, and known by
the name of Cienega. This name is derived from the
swampy nature of many parts of its soil, resulting, no
doubt, from the condensation of the nocturnal vapours,
and the numerous rills trickling down from the sur-
rounding heights. Its length, from north to south,
may be about 320 yards, while its mean breadth is not
more than 55 yards. It is wholly covered with an
Alpine grass, the Podosemum alpestre, among which
the plants already spoken of, together with a multi-
tude of others, were found Reacterea: Nearly in the
centre of this delightful valley. we found an excellent
spring. Numberless springs become exhausted in thie
dry season from the effects of evaporation ; ; in that of the
Cienega, on the contrary, there is an abundant supply |
rates the terrestrial from the atmospheric ocean, and
throughout the year, from an accumulation of water
filterine down the surrounding heights, and well shel- :
tered by an enormous block of granite, which serves to |
| comprehended within the limits of the visible horizon.
screen it from the direct action of the solar rays. This
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
403
enchanting spot appeared the most eligible position
for a short halt for the purpose of rest and refreshment.
The water of the spring could only be used in the
smallest quantities at a time, on account of its extreme
coldness.
At half-past eleven they quitted the Cienega, taking |
a.direction to the north. The graminee which they en-
countered in the most northerly part of the plain grew
to a height of about fifteen feet, and were so densé
as to create no small dificulty in opening a path
through the thicket formed by them. After having
proceeded onward about 1640 yards, they knew that
they had arrived at the crest of the mountain, and found
themselves enveloped in athick for. The precipices, to
the north, crowned with enormous prisms of granite,
served to indicate the close proximity of the western
peak. After a short and gentle descent, and an ascent
somewhat longer and steeper, they axrinied upon its
summit, without, however, being at first aware of the
fact, from being unable to: see any object of com-
parison. ‘The creat descent, of which they soon after
became sensible, led them to suspect that the spot they
had just reached, if not the western peak itself, must
at least be among the more remarkable elevations of
the mountain; and this conviction determined them to
calculate the height by the instruments before they left
it, and the result obtained was, that the peak was about
9000 feet above the city of Caraccas. About twenty
yards farther, they encountered a cloud of hairy bees;
and here observed unequivocal marks of these elevations
being frequented by the tapir, or dunta.
The extraordinary pyramid which forms the eastern
peak now became visible for a few moments, appearins
so close that they almost imagined they could touch it
with their harids. The wind dispersing the fog at
lialf-past two, displayed the eastern peak in all the
colossal grandeur of its majesty ; its sides bristled with
prisms of granite; but not on this account wholly des=
titute of vegetation. It was with good reason that
Humboldt ascribed the nakedness observable on the
eastern and western peaks, amon other causes, to the
frequent conflagrations among ‘the mountains of the
equinoctial regions; since, if thirty-two years ago he
met only a few grasses, and some dwarf bushes of
bejaria, abundance of these Jast may now be found
there, fourteen feet in height, alone with the ¢nczenso,
or trixis of Swartz, and several other plants.
The imposing precipice, which descends to Caraval-
leda, cannot be regarded without awe; and there are
few mountains whose declivities approach so nearly to
the vertical as to form angles of only fifty-two degrees
with the horizon; such, however, is the inclination of
the peak at this place.
On reaching the summit, their sensations of cold
exceeded those which the temperature marked by the
thermometers justified ; a phenomenon easily under-
stood from the rapid evaporation from the surface in a
rarefied atmosphere. ‘The sky cleared, and allowed the
eye to rauge over a vast space. They were able to
mark with distinctness a depression in the cordillera
of Ocumare, of sufficient magnitude to admit of the
eye ranging beyorid it as far as E] Sur, and to traverse
a vast expanse of those immense Ilanos which extend
to the banks of the Orinoco, losing itself at length ina
terrestrial horizon, as it does on the north in an oceanic
one.
They were also able to distinguish the whole valley
of Caraccas. ‘Soine light vapours which appeared to be
| in contact with the surface of the ocean prevented them
from marking with distinctness the line which sepa-
consequently rendered the islands of Orchula, Torte: A,
Aves, and Roques, invisible to the travellers, althoueh
31 2
404
As they were desirous of witnessing from that elevation
the breaking of the dawn of the following day, they
accordingly made dispositions to pass the night on the
spot, without caiculating on the vicissitudes of weather
so frequent in such a situation. So long, indeed, as the
wind continued to blow from the east, the atmosphere
retained its transparency unimpaired ; no sooner, how-
ever, did it change to the west than dense vapours
began to accumulate round the peak, and a rain came
on which continued from nine till eleven o'clock, at
which time a fresh change in the direction of the wind
brought with it a return of fair weather. This unfore-
seen accident was fatal to those who had indulged in
the expectation of enjoying a quiet night’s rest, the rain
penetrating the cloaks in which they had wrapped
themselves, and saturatine the ground with moisture.
At five in the morning the weather again threat-
ened a change for the worse, from a return of the wind
to the same quarter from which the rain had come.
At six the atmosphere was perfectly clear, and the
objects already mentioned were all most distinctly
visible, with the exception of the valleys, which were
veiled by a covering of white fleecy clouds. These,
however, rapidly dispersing, gave a view of the city,
and the villages situated on the banks of the Guayra.
At half-past six they commenced the descent, which
was accomplished successfully.
This mountain has been since ascended by an Enelish
gxentleman, who having formed a party for visiting
the domes or peaks of the Silla, left the city of Caraccas
for that purpose on the afternoon of the 15th of April,
1835, proposing to make the ascent from the side of
the Dos Caminos. Having passed the night at the
pulperia*, or little house of entertainment there, they
took their departure from thence at four the following
morning, and arrived at the foot of the mountain in
thirty minutes. Proceeding along a steep and rocky
ascent, they reached the ridge of the mountain, beyond
which a spacious amphitheatre opened to their view in
the bosom of the mountain, formed by a dense wood of
various trees, and watered by a pretty powerful stream,
which rushed impetuously through the midst of it.
They resumed their march, and succeeded in gaining
a high peak, where they were enveloped in a thick
mist, by ten, A.M. The wind blew at this spot with the
force of a gale, and the temperature sunk to 62°. On
the mist clearing off, a most magnificent landscape
burst upon their view; and the valley, with the city of
Caraccas, and the adjacent neighbourhood, appeared
beautifully displayed as in a map beneath them.
After a brief halt, the party once more commenced
their march, but found the difficulties of their progress
oreatly increased by the growing steepness of the ascent,
the extreme hardness and dryness of the earth, which
was full of fissures, and the slippery surface of the short
smooth grass, which rendered it necessary for them to
take off their shoes, the soles of which had become so
olazed as to render it impossible to continue the ascent
with them on.
The increasing difficulties of the ascent so dis-
heartened the majority of the party, that they wave up
in despair, their guide even deserting them; and by
eleven o'clock the total number of the adventurers who
continued to persevere was reduced by these successive
desertions to three. Those who persevered in the at-
tempt found the steepness of the ascent still farther
increased. As they continued their journey towards
the first peak of the eastern summit of the Silla, a mist
hung over it which completely obstructed their view; as
soon, however, as it dispersed, they found their farther
advance suddenly arrested by the unexpected inter-
* Pulperia literally means, a shop where they sell brandy and
other spirits; it may be considered analogous to a posado in Spain,
or a hedge ale-house in England, .
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
[OcroBER 2],
position of an abrupt ravine, which presented a nearly
perpendicular descent on the side next to the travellers,
threatening to oppose an insurmountable barrier to the -
completion of their expedition. They succeeded at
length in discovering a sort of stony ledge, by means
of which, notwithstanding its hazardous aspect, they
contrived with caution to effect their descent.
At 1 p.m. the thermometer stood at 54°. They had
by this time achieved the great object of their expedi-
tion, and scaled this eternal beacon of the Cordillera of
the shore*. Fragments of broken bottles, and the
marks of a fire which had been kindled, furnished
ample evidence of former visits, by adventurous tra-
vellers, to this elevated and lonely spot. An accumu-
lation of clouds to the north, rolling lke a miehty
ocean, at a considerable depth below the spot on which
they stood, filled the hollow of the celebrated preci-
pice which overhangs Caravalleda, and completely ob-
structed their view in that direction; a thick rain came
on, and the cold appeared so intense to their feelings,
that, had not their thermometer indicated 50° of heat,
they would have been led to imagine that the tempera-
ture was considerably lower. “A partial dispersion of
the mist gave them a transient glimpse of the city of
Caraccas. They displayed the flaw of Columbia from
the branches of a tree,—carved their names on the bark
of an incienso tree of about fifteen feet in height,—and,
after remaining for an hour on that elevated but cir-
cumscribed spot, commenced their descent at two P.m™.,
and halted at the guide's cottage at the foot of the
mountain ; here they rested till midnight, when they
resumed their march for Caraccas, and re-entered that
city. at half-past three on the morning of the 17th,
—fatigued, indeed, but not the less gratified with their
expedition.
A LOOKING-GLASS FOR LONDON.—No. XXIII.
MANUFACTURES—BERMONDSEY AND T'ooLEy STREET.
BrerMONDSEY is the name of a parish now included in
the parliamentary borough of Southwark, and which
lies eastward of the Borough High Street and London
Bridge: the Greenwich railroad passes through it. A
great portion of the coarser manufacturing processes of
the metropolis are carried on in it, and in its adjoining
neighbour, Rotherhithe. They abound with tanneries,
tenter grounds, glue and soap manufactories, rope-
walks, brimstone and saltpetre works, &c. Bermondsey
is not closely built upon, for the manufactures carried
on within it require considerable space, and the pun-
gent odours they diffuse invite nobody to reside in the
district but those who have an interest in so doing.
Yet Bermondsey is a far pleasanter place to walk in
than Spitalfields. Industry within it has a rough and
even repulsive aspect, but heart-witherine poverty has
not shed a blight over the whole place. Some of the
streets and lanes, especially towards the water-side, are
dirty-looking enough; but there are many open spaces,
with rows of neat cottages, inhabited by the workmen
connected with the establishments in the neighbour-
hood.
Bermondsey Street, the main street of the parish, runs
up southward from about the centre of Tooley Street,
at some little distance from, but not quite parallel to,
the Borough High Street. Besides the usual class of
tradesmen, cheesemongers, bakers, butchers, publicans,
&e., it is inhabited by wool-staplers, bair-merchants,
* Humboldt found the elevation of this spot to be 1350 toises,
or about 8,434 English feet; the barometer standing at 20
inches 7°6 lines, and the thermometer at 13:7 centigrade degrees,
or 56°°66 degrees of Fahrenheit’s, being nearly 7 degrees above
the temperature observed by Mr. Calender and his companions.
Humboldt recommends those whose senses are affected by looking
down a considerable depth to remain at the centre of the small
flat which crowns the eastern summit of the Silla. cm
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leather-manufacturers, curriers, vinegar-manufacturers,
drysalters, &c. Nearly all the wool-staplers, fell-
mongers, and tanners of London are to be found in
Bermondsey. Off Bermondsey Street there is a large
new skin or leather market, tenanted by leather-factors,
skin-merchants, and tanners; and in its immediate
vicinity are tan-yards. The reason why the tanneries
of Bermondsey are the largest in the empire, may be
found in the circumstances of the large capital required,
and the ready market and great demand afforded by
the extensive operations of London—coach-making and
book-binding. The manufacture of morocco leather is
almost exclusively confined to the tanneries of Ber-
mondsey. Formerly, the hides to be tanned were kept
in the pits six, twelve, or eighteen months, and in some
instances two years, or even more. But now science has
been called in to shorten the time occupied in the pro-
cess. ‘*The improved process,” says Mr. Babbage, “ con-
sists in placing the hides with the solution of tan in close
vessels, and then exhausting the air. The effect is to
withdraw any air which may be contained in the pores of
the hides, and to aid capillary attraction by the pressure
of the atmosphere in forcing the tan into the interior
of the skins. ‘The effect of the additional force thus
brought into action can be equal only to one atmosphere ;
but a further improvement has been made: the vessel
containing the hides is, after exhaustion, filled up with
a solution of tan; a small additional quantity is then
injected with a forcing-pump. By these means any
decree of pressure may be given which the containing-
vessel is capable of supporting; and it has been found
that, by employing such a method, the thickest hides
may be tanned in six weeks or two months.”
Tooley Street has a different aspect now from what
it had when it was immortalized by Mr. Canning’s
clever, though somewhat flippant joke, about three
tailors in it assembled to draw up a petition to the
House of Commons, and commencing it with ‘* We,
the people of England.” ‘There are a few tailors in
Tooley Street, but they inhabit the lower portion of it,
along with the slop-sellers, chandlers, brokers, and other
tradesmen. The street runs from London Bridge, east-
wards, passing the foot of Bermondsey Street; the
upper portion of it, adjoining the bridge, has under-
mone a thorough re-construction, and is occupied by
wharfingers, hop and cider merchants, wholesale po-
tato merchants, and other dealers in what may be
termed bulky goods. Here the crane and the pulley
seem never to be idle during the entire day. Drays
and carts are continnally loading and unloading ; sacks,
bags, boxes, and barrels are swinging up and down ;
hops are storing in warehouses, or carting to the
brewers; beer and cider are transferring either to
or from the vessels at the wharfs; and goods of various
kinds are carrying out and in from the wharfs.
The manufacture of hats is carried on to a large
extent in Southwark; and in Lambeth, which has in-
creased very largely within the last fifteen or twenty
years, there are a considerable number of establish-
ments, in which the manufactures of machinery,
earthenware, &c., are carried on. The Jarge printing
establishment of the Messrs. Clowes is in Lambeth.
We might appear to degrade the production of books
if we called it a manufacture; but it is really so, in all
the divisions of labour and mechanical inventions which
constitute a factory upon a large scale, as exhibited in
the establishment from which our work issues.
A MONTH AT SEA.
(Continued from No. 355.]
Ava. 5th. A day as disagreeable as yesterday was the
contrary. Damp, stifling, with much rain, and rolling,
which threw us back upon our patience. Miss Saunders
is gentle and merry. Every body begins to praise her.
The ship is very inferior to the one I came out in ;—in
stewards, and in all manner of arrangements ; but I
can scarcely regret this, as it is the means of displaying
the captain’s virtues. We are in constant admiration of
his patience, ingenuity, and consideration for every body.
Mrs. Happen’s insults only make him more generous.
Before breakfast, for two dreary hours, Mrs. Ely be-
euiled us with capital sketches of character ;— oddities.
She does this very well: a little coarsely, perhaps, and
406
not absolutely simply; but with much power. I read
the first half of ~< book in ye power,
%
Mes Simpson a we to me ks about some
mutual acquaintance. He can tell me every thine
about Mexico, where he has been living. He has a
true understanding of the Texan cause. He says the
Mexicans hate all foreigners, and call them all Enelish.
It is too bad to mix us up with the Texans ; though, as
I am sorry to say, there have been English in the
Texan ranks.
An hour before dinner, the clouds parted, and the
wind became fresher and drier. I fell asleep on the
rail, while looking for sea-sights, and woke refreshed.
In the afternoon, Miss Saunders and I had a lone
talk on the rail on the difference between religion,
spontaneous and artificial; natural and arbitrary; pro-
fessionally and unconsciously administered ; with exam-
ples: all this arising out of some lines she brought me
about gradual and sudden death. I amazed her by
telling her of the incessant conflict in 5 mind,
between her free and joyous nature, and the separate,
arbitrary relivion which she has had imposed upon her 3
but which will not for ever prevent her discovering that
religion has a natural affinity with whatever Is free,
pure, lofty and exhilarating. She is one who would
certainly break loose, or grow hypocritical in time, if
she could not get liberty for her devotional spirit.
Then followed, our own party having assembled, not
a few tales of travel, I furnishing an account of my
Michigan trip. In the evening, the Elys, Mr. Tracy
and I played a rubber. ‘They are slow and young
players, but pleasant partners and adversaries. ‘Tracy
will play well.—On deck, to see that there was nothing
to be seen this moonless night. So incomfortable
with the damp heat of the day as to be unwilling to go
down; but it is against my conscience to keep ihe irs
up; and they will not go to rest till we do. I slept
pretty well, after all.
6th. I really cannot write down all Mrs. Happen’s
freaks, The captain is now busy with hammer and
nails, trying to please her. She is jealous of a band-
box of Kate’s, standing in the entire state-room, which
her negro-maid is allowed to have. She cannot possi-
bly spare the curtains from the berth in her state-room
that she does noé sleep in; and so forth.
T like Mr. Browning. He has been telling me some
anecdotes of greatness, all full of the richest moral
beauty. When he was at Marseilles, he went about
hunting for the house where Guyon died. Nobody knew
anything about Guyon !
At breakfast, five or six of us hada lone talk about
dressing-boxes, ‘of all things. ‘This led to a display of
our respective ones, which was very aniusine, Mrs.
Ely’s was the most nice and complete; and Lieutenant
Browning’s perhaps the most commodious,—being
nothing else than a stocking! He thinks us worthy
to hear the whole truth about our voyage; and so tells
us that we are to-day going slowly, four points south of
our course; that we got too far south at the outset;
that we shall not cross “ the Banks,” and shall therefore
see neither icebergs nor cod- “baat that we have got
into a region of calms and light winds, and shall pro-
bably havea long voyage. My heart sank for a moment,
—I had ‘so long counted the days which had home at
the end of them: but I esteem it a sin to let one’s
countenance fall on board ship; and we all joked upon
the matter.
Found on deck Mr. Bruce, who has been in his berth,
nursing a wounded leg, ever since we came on board.
He is "Scotch, acquainted with divers literary folk in
London ; droll, and pretty. sensible:—an acquisition,
particularly to the captain, as he has promised to turn
his novelty to good account with Mrs. Happen, who |
THE PENNY MAGAZINE,
[Ocroser 21,
has quarrelled with every body else. He is going to
lay himself out to amuse her. He has written some
things for ‘ Hood’s Comic Annual.’ He will get some
fine new material here.
Dr. Sharp asks the captain to-day if rain is quite
fresh at sea.
Mrs. Happen owns she had a prejudice against Mr.
Tracy from the moment she saw him.—She supposes
Mrs, Ely and I enjoy the voyage from knowing that we
shall never be in such society again.—She begs Mr.
Browning to inform her rightly about our course; for
she never saw such mates in her life. Miss Lamine is
very nearly as bad. She complains of everything, and
has nicknamed every body. ‘The captain kindly told
her not to feel uneasy at being of the same party with
Mrs. Happen, as no one supposed Miss Lamine to
have anything to do with the old lady’s behaviour.
Miss Lamine went directly, and told Mrs. Happen
every word that the captain had said.
Scene. Ladies’ Cabin.
Miss Lamine writing on the sofa; Margaret, and Sally,
Marg.—*“ Where’s the cat now ?”
Sally.— In Missus’s state-room.”
Marg.— She'll wet away, as sure as she’s alive.”
(A groan from Sally.)
Marg.— Why don’t you tie her up ?”
Sally.—“T vow I will, if I can eet a bit o’ cord.”
Marg.—** Only perhaps your mistress will tie you
up, if the cat happens not to like it.”
Sally.—‘* Perhaps she will: only then she must get
a pretty strong cord; that I can tell her.”
Scene. Deck.
Mr. Mann, and the Mate.
Mate.—“ V'll tell you what, sir—we’ve got this
head-wind, all because yon will keep catching Mother
Carey’s chickens. If you go on catching them, we
shall have a gale ahead.”
Mr. Mann.—‘‘ In that case, I should advise your
throwing the cat overboard.”
Mate.—“ 'Then we shall have a gale within ship that
will last us all the way to Liverpool.”
llth. Found itacalm: chickens * tripping a ballet,”
as Mrs. Ely says; and Lieutenant Browning predict-
ing a fair wind,—which has this moment arrived.—
The weather has been deplorable, and we have been
rolled about, in the midst of one of those pelting rains
which make every body busy in keeping dry without
being stifled. Mr. Ely was wholly and happily ab-
sorbed in Southey’s ‘ Cowper.’ ‘The rest of us talked
and laughed in the round-house till poor Mrs. O’Brien
(who begins to show herself a second Mrs. Happen)
abruptly left the company, and burst into the cabin,
exclaiming that we were all the lowest and most ieno-
rant society she ever wasin. For my part, I thought
some of the conversation, particularly the captain’s, Mr.
Browning’s, and Miss Saunders’s, very clear and enter-
taining. After awhile, the weather conquered most of
us. In vain the captain sent round his champagne,
and his jokes, and kind sayings. Poor man! when
the stars showed themselves, and the lone tempest
seemed over, and he was going to bed, after two days
and a nieht of toil, the weather changed, and he could
nat leave the deck for hours. What a life it is!
Mr. Wilkes put on his sea-coat and went out into the
storm, and came back, the rain streaming from his hat
and chin, to praise the ship. He knew few that would
stand such a wind under so much sail. I was glad to
hear this, for certainly her inside is not to be praised.
How strange it is to see music and lyres stuck up all
over her, old and dirty as she is! and to see black coal
buckets, with * Eurydice’ painted on them! Miss La-
niine Jays down the law that “ each passenger ought to
1837.]
have a whole state-room, twice the size of ours; but
the people try to make money instead of accommo-
dating the passengers.”’ ‘The question is, whether she
would like to pay accordingly. She never uses her
berth, after all, but sleeps on “the sofa.
Mrs. Happen conld not perceive that there was any
particular motion to-day. On the instant over went
her rocking-chair on one side, throwing her into Miss
O'Brien’s lap.
12th. We do long for a little cheery weather. The
captain is somewhat serious about it. He never knew
so much damp, changeable weather at this season.
We are past the Banks “without having’ seen anythine.
Only one porpoise has shown himself. Only one ship
has been hailed, and she did not answer; all which
sounds very dull. JI have been readiug Southey’s
* Cowper,’ which has not mended the matter much.
It is as interesting as possible, but most dismal.
I feel very small in the presence of the sailors. How
they must look down upon us, fleeing in from every
drop of rain; getting under the awning as soon as the
sun shines, aud going to bed comfortably every night,
whatever the weather may be! I feel myself truly
contemptible.
The captain: and I had a full hows talk in the
evening, when he was tired, after forty-eight hours of
toil. He told me a great deal about his wife and
children, and all about the loss of his brother last
winter. The death of this brother has made a deep
impression upon him. He asked me much about the
degree of faith which it is possible-to have in a future
life, and gave me his own conceptions of it. I was
heartily sorry when the tea-bell rang. ‘The simplicity
of this man, with all his other qualities, is beautiful.
So serious, so funny (he has now been peeping down
upon us through the skylight, with his round face in a
lady's lone deck-bonnet); so brave and cheerful, so
amiable with his cross passengers, and his inefficient
crew! Mrs. Ely says he is just as gentle with his
crew in the midst of a stormy night, as with Mrs. Hap-
pen at table. Her room is where she can hear all that
passes on deck. One miserable day, he looked himself
to the making of the pea-soup, ordering the ham-bone
in; then he mended the lock on Mrs. Ely’s room-
door; then he came and talked of this hfe and another
with me.
Mr. Browning is not in very good spirits. He says
he has had more experience of bad company than ever
before; and he now associates only with us. Poor
Mrs. Happen sits all alone on deck. People speak
kindly to her, but she makes no sort of answer. IJ am
glad to see she reads a good deal.
The box of books, sent on board for the steerage by
a benevolent gentleman, was brought up a few days ago,
and immediately emptied. It is a fine resource for the
idle men, and J like to see them perched on casks and
chests absorbed in their books. We cannot succeed in
making acquaintance with these people. Perhaps they
have found out that our end of the ship is squally.
Yesterday the captain shouted, for the first time,
‘Splice the main-brace” (Give ont grog). Mrs. Ely
and I had previously done it in a small private way,
without having so earned the comfort. ‘The captain is
now heard giving orders to kill the finest pig to-night.
J think I shall ask him to shave and soap its tail first,
and set the passengers to catch it.
in a common object, and restore good- humour. The
cow was not milked on our two roughest days, at which
the complainers profess to be very angry, and threaten
to report the captain for it. If I were he, I would set
them to try what milking cows in a rolling sea is like.
Miss Sannders’s geranium pines, and will be as yellow
as the mast before we land.
The captain told me this evening,
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
It mizht unite them |
what he does not |
AO?
wish the other ladies to know till we are within sight of
port, lest they should be alarmed, that the mate behaved
so ill as to be necessarily sent back with the pilot. The
second mate was made first, and the carpenter second
mate; and neither of them knows much of his business;
so the captain has hard work to do. He says, ‘‘ There
is Lieutenant Browning to command, if anything should
happen to me.’
Mr. Bruce gave me a dreadful account to-day of his
sufferings from tic-douloureux, and of his cure, which he
ascribes to his having taken nightly a pill consisting of
three grains of mercury and one of stramonium. "He
is well now and very kind and agreeable.
15th. Better news, Far some hours we had a
fair wind and delicious weather. We have been be-
calmed for days, between two winds, catching all the
bad consequences of each, and none of the rood. But
these are the times for feeling that one stands between
two worlds; looking forward and back upon the di-
visions of human society, and able to survey them
without prejudice, and to philosophize upon them with-
out interruption. These are the times for feeling as if
one could do something for one’s race by toiling for if,
and by keeping aloof from the storms of its passions
and its selfish interests; humbly, not proudly, aloof.
Such thoughts arise in the isolation of a voyage, as if
they came up from the caverns of the deep. On the
centre of the ocean one is as in another state of ex-
istence, with all one’s humanity about one.
Iiverybody’s ailments are gone, and all but the two
unhappy old ladies look cheery this morning. I saw a
whale yesterday. Mr. Bruce pronounced it ‘‘ no orator,
because it did not spout well;” but I was quite satisfied
with its performances,—heaving its black carcase, and
wallowing and plunging in the dirty-looking boiling
sea. How differeut was everything the next morning.
‘The sapphire sea, with its fleet of Portuguese nien-of-
war; a single land-bird flitting and fluttering, from
Newfoundland no doubt,—pity it had not faith to come
on board, for 1 fear it will never get back.
J saw three flying-fish—very pretty—leaping from
the crest of one wave into another: but nothing was to
me so beautiful as the transparent ripple, seen above
the surface when the sun got low. After reading
S
capital sermon, [ read no more, but sat with Miss
Saunders on the rail all day, having much talk, with
long intervals of silence. Mrs. Ely wrote all the morn-
ine’; but I conld nor bear to lose a breath of balmy air,
or a hue of the sweet sea. In the afternoon, we re-
peated poetry and sang, and promised eacli other scien-
tific lectnres on deck daily this next week. Do not
laugh at us. You would have promised anything
whatever on such an afternoon.
In the evening, five of us had a long conversation on
European politics and American democracy, till the cap-
tain came to take me, first to the bows, to see the full
sails swelling against the star-lit sky, and then to the
stern, to see how bright a train of light we left behind us,
as we dashed through at the rate of ten knots an hour.
Professor Ely gave us a little history of the improve-
ments in astronomy and navigation, the elements of
these sciences being furnished by observation in the
bright regions of the East to the fogey and scientific
West. When these improvements are carried back to
the star-lit east, what may not the science become?
The captain brought me to-day a book, about the
size of the palm of my hand, that I might look at a
short poem,—rather pretty. He was very mysterious:
the book was not published; was written by some oné
on board. We all guessed Mr. Bruce. But no; every-
body had been told in a whisper, before two hours were
over, that it was by Mr. Kitton, the artist and poet.
Mr. Kitton was a poor sick yentleman, who had been
in his berth ever since we sailed, and who now began
405
to creep out into the sunshine. Dr. Sharp attended
him professionally, and he had a friend to nurse him.
We saw nothing of him except when he sat on deck in
the middle of the day. He looked wretchedly, but I
believe his complaints were not alarming.
Mrs. Happen treated the captain cruelly to-day. He
looks graye, thongh he owns he ought not to mind her.
The ship we saw on Thursday kept dallying about us
for three days, and would not speak when hailed. I
wished Mrs. Happen could have been put on board of
her; they would suit exactly. ) .
There is one thing interesting about the Miss
O'Briens. They are very attentive and affectionate to
their mother; which, considering how she sometimes
treats them, speaks well for their tempers. She may
well pronounce them “ very steady girls.’’ But their
conversation 1s’ of that kind which, however often one
may hear it, one can scarcely credit on recollection. I
set down one specimen, as a fair example. Dr. Sharp
was called yesterday to one of the crew who was ill.
As he returned, looking rather thoughtful, Mr. Mann
observed to the O’Brien family that-the doctor was
quite a man of consequence to-day. ‘Thereupon en-
sued,— all
Ist Miss O.—* Lua! Doctor, how consequential you
look !” :
2nd Miss O.— Well! Doctor, how consequential
you look !” Tl —
Mrs. O.—‘* Why, the Doctor does look consequential
indeed !” Oh:
Ist Miss O. (to Mr. Mann)—‘ La! Sir, how conse-
quential the Doctor does look !” | |
2nd Miss O.—“ Now doesn’t the Doctor look quite
consequential ?’—And so on, for above ten minutes. - ‘
The captain has ‘just been unpacking’ a hundred
towels ; a goodly sight for those who rehearse drown-
ing’ every mornine (in salt water), as I do. J am
certain that no practice is so beneficial to health at sea
as plenty of bathing, with friction afterwards. <A large
foot-bath, or small tub, may easily be procured; and
the steward will draw up a bucket or two of sea-water
every morning. <A sea-faring friend told me this before
I sailed; and Ihave often been thankful for the advice.
Onr cargo is partly turpentine. -The vessel leaks,
and so do the turpentine casks; and what comes up
Dy the pumps is so nanseous as to cause much complaint
among the passengers.. There was no time at New
York to wet the copper bottom mended; and the crew
ure hard worked with the pumping. ‘The captain says
if the leak increases, he shall employ the steerage pas-
sengers at the pumps. Mr. Browning shows me the
chart. We are rather more than half way. He con-
siders it two-thirds, as the best is all to come. ‘* All
down hill now,” he says.
{To be continued.) °
a fh
Se Sl
ADAPTIVE POWERS OF NATURE.
(From Itlustrative Notes to ‘ Paley’s Natural Theology, by Lord
Brougham and Sir Charles Belt.)
WueErever a seed can lodge we find vegetables growing ;
and wherever we find digestible matter there are animals
to live upon it; and the kind of food determines the
organization of the creature, not resulting from it, but
provided for it. The class of ruminants feed on the
coarser herbage where the vegetable is in abundance,
but the actual nutritious matter is small in quantity
compared with the mass. There is therefore an obvious
necessity for a more complex apparatus to extract the
smaller proportion of matter capable of being animalized:
hence the maceration of the first stomach, hence the
regurgitation and rumination, and the reception into the
second and third stomach, in preparation for the proper
digestion in the last. When the mass is digested, the
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
[Ocroser 21, 1837,
nutritious part is still small in proportion to the whole ;
and to permit that smaller portion of aliment to be
absorbed and carried into the system, the intestinal
canal must be long and complex, offering resistance to
the rapid descent of the food, and giving it lodgement:
and thus there is always a correspondence between the
complication of the stomach and the length of the
intestines, and between both and the nature of the food.
It is further very remarkable, that when animals of the
same species live in different climates, where there is
more or less abundance of vegetable food, there is an
adaptation of their digestive organs. Where it is
abundant, the configuration of the intestines which is
intended to delay its descent is less complex. Where
the food is more scarce, the intestine is longer, and the
valvular obstruction greater. This has been observed
by Sir E. Home, in comparing the cassowary of Java
with the cassowary of New South Wales, and the Ame-
rican ostrich with the same bird inhabiting the deserts
of Africa. ‘The same comparison has been made be-
tween the Leicestershire sheep and the mountain sheep
of Scotland.
We have said that it is the object to support animal
life, and to give the enjoyment of existence; and that
wherever the means are afforded of converting a mate-
rial under the processes of digestion and assimilation,
there animals will be found with an apparatus of di-
gestion adapted to the food. Nothing certainly can be
more curious than the vicarious action of the stomach
and mouth. We see, for example, that where the bill
precludes mastication in the mouth, it is performed in
the stomach; and then muscles are found in the sto-
mach as powerful as those of the jaws and teeth; and
as to the teeth, or what is equivalent to them, we may
say that they are continually renewed.
| In fact, no me-
chanical:strneture of Jaws and teeth could answer the
‘purposes of nature here: no union of bone and enamel
in the tooth could have withstood the attrition of the
gizzard; and one of the most beantiful and interesting
appliances of nature is the substitution, through the
Instinct of the animal, of small stones of hard texture,
generally consisting of silex, introduced within the
grasp and action of this organ. It is a further proof
that the mastication, if we may use the term, is more
perfect in the gizzard than where there is the most
coinplex structure of teeth, and therefore that it is the
means of extracting the greater quantity of nutritious
matter. Accordingly, there are gizzards in most classes
of animals. They are not only found in birds, but in
reptiles. ‘The sea-turtle has what is termed a muscular
stomach. Among fishes the mullet and the gillaroo
trout have muscular stomachs. The cuttle-fish, the
nautilus, and even the earth-worm, have a crop and
oizzard; and insects, according as they live on a leaf
or suck the biood, have the same difference in the
internal arrangement of the strecture for assimilation
as that which distinguishes the ox from the lion.
Territorial Distribution of the Population of France.—
The population of the twenty maritime departments is
9,766,828; of the fourteen frontier departments, 4,660,626 ;
and of the fifty-two inland departments, 18,141,769. The
average population to each square league in the maritime
departments is 1458—namely, in the departments on the
British Channel, 2183; in those on the Atlantic Ocean,
1500; on the Gulf of Gascony, 1013; and on the Mediter-
ranean, 1028. The average population per square league
in the frontier departments is 1188—namely, in those ad-
joining to Belgium, 1208; Germany, 2187; Switzerland,
1118; Italy, 878; and Spain, 1183. In the inland depart-
ments there are 1127 inhabitants to a square league, and
for the whole of France, 1919.
*,* Thc Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at
99, Lincoln’s Inn Fields.
’ LONDON: CHARLES KNIGHT & CO:, 22, LUDGATE STREET.
_ Printed by WinL1am CLowEs and Sons, Stamford Street,
H PENNY MAGAZINE
OF THE
society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledze.
J0/
PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY.
LOcrosper 28, 1837
FESTIVAL OF SANTA ROSALTA.
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[ Car of Santa Rosalia. ]
A BRIEF description of the Sicilian festival of Santa
Rosalia was appended to the account of the Saint, and
the cave which bears her name near Palermo, given
in the ‘Penny Magazine,’ vol. v., pp. 444, 445. The
writer had himself witnessed one of the annual celebra-
tions of the festival, the recurrence of which is hailed
by the Sicilians with the most lively interest. Houel,
from whose work on Sicily the above engraving is taken,
minutely describes the festival as he witnessed it in
1776 ; and after a lapse of sixty years—a period so fer- |
tile in alterations of national character,—his description,
with allowances for variations in the accessories, may
be taken as a description of the festival, as celebrated at
the present day. ‘‘ The festival,” says Malte Brun,
“attracts to Palermo nearly a fourth part of the popu-
lation of the island, and costs the municipality about
60,000 ducats. The interest that the Palermitans of all
rauks and of all ages take in the vain show, the luxury
that prevails, and the importance attached to trifles,
seem to indicate that the blood of the ancient Greeks,
who were so devoted to ceremonies and religious fes-
tivals, flows still in the veins of the Sicilian people.”
The festival is celebrated in the month of July, and
lasts five days. The weather is most usually delightful,
for though the heat is great during the day, the even-
ings and nights afford the inhabitants and visitors of |the morning, ‘* For,’ says Houel,
Vox, VI,
Palermo ample opportunity to enjoy the promenades,
illuminations, and fireworks. Rain, that great enemy
of processions and fétes, seldom disturbs the festival of
Santa Rosalia.
On the first day, the car, the construction of which
used to be an annual source of intense solicitude, and
which was always built aftera new model, is brought
outin grand procession. It is generally a huge ina-
chine, about eighty feet in height, and carries a great
number of musicians—the orchestra of the car. Above
the orchestra is placed a gigantic statue of Santa
Rosalia, of massive silver, magnificently clothed. The
car is decorated with shrubs and flowers, and is drawn
by a long string of mules, or white oxen.
At an appointed signal the procession sets forward,
moving slowly, amid the shoutings of the populace.
Entering the town, it traverses the spacious Cassaro,
the main street of Palermo, the balconies and windows
of every house being crowded by well-dressed and ex-
cited gazers. As the procession does not take place till
the afternoon, evening closes in before it is well over ;
and then a new scene commences. ‘The principal
streets are brilliantly illuminated ; fireworks on an ex-
tensive scale are exhibited ; and the whole populace are
out enjoying themselves till two and three o'clock in
“it is not with
3G
ALY
fastines, austerities, and mortifications that the Sici-
lians honour the Saint, but with songs, fireworks, and
rejoicings of every kind.”
On the second day of the festival there are horse-
races, similar to those described in the ‘Penny Maga-
zine, vol. li, p. 425. The procession of the car, ilu-
minations, and fireworks are the main features of the
amusement of each afternoon and evening’; but there
are also some variations in each. ‘The horse-races are
repeated on three or fonr days. ‘There is usually an
aquatic excursion, and abundant firing of cannon ; and
on the fourth evening the cathedral is lighted up with
inany thousand wax-tapers, adorned with flowers, and
crowded with people. On the last day of the festival
the procession of the car is more than usually splendid.
All the priests and monks in Palermo join in it, bear-
ing the images of the saints from every church; and
then, with ‘‘ fountains of fire,’ illuminations, and uni-
versal rejoicings, closes a festival which the Sicilians
regard as the most magnificent in the world. ‘he
huge and ugly state-coach, the men in armour, and the
Gog and Magog of the Lord Mayor’s show, are cer-
tainly insignificant in conyparison with the car of Santa
Rosalia.
THE NORTHUMBRIAN FISHERMEN.
‘Tur fishermen of the coast of Northumberland are a
remarkably hardy and intrepid race of men. Their
manners are those of persons who, from necessity, have
always lived and moved in their own exclusive society,
and have been from early childhood habituated to a life
of uncommon danger and hardship ; coarse, yet simple,
and perfectly unsophisticated. ‘They are, nevertheless,
iil weneral a very peaceably-disposed class of individuals,
and, in a remarkable degree, honest and tidustrious.
Moreover, to strangers, and to persons of a superior
rank in life, they are uniformly kind, respectful, and
communicative, and when intelligent, as some of the
aged fishermen are found to be, exceedingly interesting.
During the herring-fishery, which may be called the
harvest of the Northumbrian fishermen, they are em-
ployed day and night with but little intermission. The
. places along the coast of Northumberland where her-
rings are caught in most abundance, are Boulmer,
Craister, Newton, North Sunderland, Holy Island, and
Berwick, but at Boulmer in particular. This place is
the great rendezvous of the fishing-boats from all parts
of the Northumbrian coast; and also from Yorkshire,
Norfolk, Sussex, and different other of the Enelish
counties approximating on the sea, as well as from some
places in Scotland. ‘lhe coast is also visited by many
of the fishermen of some parts of Holland and France.
Occasionally, during the summer months, so large a
number as seventy or eighty of French and Dutch
lugger-boats, which are of mnch larger dimensions,
aud manned by a greater number of hands than our
Yinglish fishing-boats in general use, may be seen pur-
suing their occupation within sight of land. The mode
of fishing has been already described in the ‘ Penny
Magazine,’ No. 311.
The description of boats in use among the Northum-
brian fishermen are called cobles, and differ materially
1 point of shape from the Deal galley-boats, and those
employed for a similar purpose on the coasts of Kent
and Sussex. . ‘These coble-boats are adinirably adapted
for buffeting the quick short billow so peculiar to the
Northumbrian shores, but it would be found totally
impracticable to launch them throueh a rude broken
sea, such as generally prevails on the Goodwin Sands,
or some other equally dangerous place. Generally, each
inarried nan is possessed of a boat, the value of which,
properly equipped for sea, is from 262. to 302., with
which, when he is assisted in its management by some
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
utility and personal comfort.
‘families or the parish for support.
[OcroBer 28,
of his grown-up sons, he is enabled to earn a livelihood
for himself and his family; but in the absence of such
assistance, two or three individuals contrive to purchase
a boat amonest them, and each receives a share of the
profits proportionate to his interest in the property.
In his dress, the Northumbrian fisherman consults
When equipped for sea,
he is usually habited in a pair of white flannel trousers,
of ereat width and strength, and a jacket and vest
composed of coarse woollen cloth of a blue colour. A
pair of very large boots, completely waterproof, and
which reach above the knee, protect his feet and leas
from wet and cold; and a red-and-white, or blue-striped
woollen cap, completes his apparel. In tempestuous
weather he substitutes for the last article a sort of
skull-cap, with a large peak projecting from behind,
and called, with much expression, a ‘* south-wester,”
and wears an additional coat.
It isin the nature of the fisherman’s calling to be
subjected to many and great dangers. ‘ Storms,” says
the EXttrick Shepherd, ‘* constitute the various eras of
the pastoral life. They are the red lines in the shep-
herd’s manual—the remembrancers of years and aves
that are past—the tablets of memory by which the ages
of his children, the times of his ancestors, and thie rise
and downfall of families, are invariably ascertained.”
This applies with equal force to the life of the North-
umbrian fisherman. 7s manual is not without its
red lines. The instances of shipwreck which have from
time to time occurred alone the coast, and of accidents,
wherein numbers of his own brave comrades have lost
their lives in the pursuit of their hazardous vocation,
are inany and terrible. The recollection of some of
those awful catastrophes is engraven on the memories
of the fishermen with a fearful particularity. One, of
recent occurrence, is truly lamentable. On the 2nd of
February, 1830, during a tremendous storm, no less
than fourteen vessels were wrecked (eleven of them
totally) on the Northumbrian coast, between two points
not above twelve miles distant from each other, the
crews of which, save those of three of the vessels that
were got off, were unfortunately drowned. And many
and of frequent occurrence are the cases in which some
of the poor fishermen themselves are suddenly over-
taken by a storm, and perish amid its violence in their
attempts to reach the shore,—often within sieht of their
own cottage-homes upon the cliff!—
“« And whilst they sink, without one arm to save,
Their country blooms—a garden and a grave |”
To the readiness of the fishermen to render assistance
to the crews of vessels in distress, many can bear erate-
ful testimony. The heroic intrepidity by which they
are, as a Class, universally characterized, never appears
to such advantage as on occasions of this kind. Hands
are never wanted to man the life-boats stationed alone
the coast; and, regardless alike of the severity of the
tempest and the shrieks of their wives and children on
the shore, they rush onward on their errand of mercy,
« Fierce in their native hardiness of soul ! ”
It is, however, a blot—a great one, certainly, but
almost the only serious one—on the character of the
Northumbrian fishermen, that they have ever been ad-
dicted to the vicious habit of drinking. The village
alehouse, not their own homes, is made too much the
scene and source of their pleasures, where, with a
thoughtless improvidence, a considerable portion of the
fruits of their labour is squandered away in a course
of dissipation alike injurious to themselves and ruinous
to their poor fainilies. Whien, therefore, sickness or
accident fora time, or the infirmities of advanced life,
altogether incapacitate them from the regula: pursuit
of their calling, they throw themselves upon their
This might be
1837.1
wholly or in a great measure prevented if a proper
degree of prudence and self-denial were put in prac-
tice. ‘The earniugs of most of them, although depend-
Ing’ much npon the fluctuating nature of the weather,
are in general very considerable—sufficient, in most
cases, to enable them to maintain their families with
comparative comfort, aud to provide against many of
the contingencies incidental to their condition: such,
for instance, as an indifferent herring season or a lone
aud severe winter, when they are prevented from going
out to sea. But the unhappy disposition to indulge in
the frequent use of intoxicating liquors is the evil
geenins of the Northumbrian fisherman—the source of
all his domestic misery and inquietude, as it is the
cause of half the destitution and crime amone the
labonrine population of England. Sunday-schools
and village book-clubs are, however, doing something
towards the amelioration of this class in Northum-
berland.
The fishermen dispose of their cargoes on the shore
to persons denominated ‘* cadgers,” who convey them
to the different market-towns in the neighbourhood in
carts and on asses, where they are retailed out at a
remunerative rate of profit. Some of the cadgers, of a
more speculative turn, occasionally make a tour of the
various villages and gentlemen’s seats in the interior,
where, in the absence of competition, they obtain a
hivher price for their fish. Those excursions some-
times extend to a distance of from twenty to thirty miles
from the beach, in the direction in which the crow flies.
The persons who follow the occupation of cadgers,
though for the most part, are by no means exclusively
confined to the male sex. It is no uncommon sight for
a woman to be driving a fish-cart, or goading on before
her a patient ass laden with fish towards the market.
Indeed, the wives and daughters of the fishermen
generally, from the active part which they are accus-
tomed to take in the fisheries, undergo many and severe
hardships. They are in the habit frequently of travel-
line to a distance of from twelve to fourteen miles from
their homes in quest of bait for their nets, with which
they return heavily laden. In e@athering muscles from
the bed of a river, they have frequently to stand for a
period of two or three hours at one time above the
knees in water. Still they exhibit a cheerfulness of
disposition which it is really a pleasure to witness.
The houses of the fishermen are, for the most part,
rude and inconvenient. They seldom occupy more
than one single apartment, and that too of compara-
tively small dimensions, for which they pay a rental
generally of from 30s. to 40s. per annum; and into this
small apartment a family of five or six children, besides
their parents, are frequently crowded. It is, moreover,
used indifferently for the purposes of cooking and eating
of meals, sleeping, and making, baiting, and repairing
their nets. The floor is usually of brick or stone, and
sometimes, though rarely, composed of the cold bare
earth. A chest of drawers, a dresser and shelves, a
large fir table, a four-poled or close bedstead, and some-
tines a clock, are the most prominent articles of fur-
niture. When there isa family, another bedstead is
added, which, in the fisherman’s domestic economy,
¢ ______contrives a double debt to pay
A bed by night, a chest of drawers by day.”
THE COLONY OF ZOAR.
In the year 1817 a colony was founded in Tuscarawa
county, State of Ohio, about forty miles above New
Philadelphia, by a party of Wirtembergers, who were
obliged to emigrate on account of some religious and
political excitement. It bears the name of Zoar, and
is under the conduct of an individual of the name of
Biumler. With the assistance of English colonists
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
All
they were able to accomplish their voyage, while their
prudent regulations, unanimity, and zeal, enabled them
to purchase, at ten years’ credit, 5500 acres of land,
which a wealtliy German sold to the party for the sum
of 15,000 dollars, about 3700/., and to undertake the
extensive scheme which the emigrants have carried on
with so much success during the course of the seventeen
years of their colonization.
Of this land 1000 acres have been cleared, and prove
to possess a very fertile soil. The association, which
consisted originally of 300 persons, raise wheat, rye,
barley, oats, maize, and rape-seed, as well as the vine
and other produce, in more than sufficient quantity for
home consumption; they therefore annually send from
2000 to 3000 barrels of flour, of 1961bs. weight each,
by way of Cleveland to New York, by means of the
Ohio canal, which was some years ago carried through
their district. Though all the colonists use butter in
their families, they nevertheless contrive to export yearly
6000 lbs., in casks of 50 lbs. each. They contracted to
dig the Ohio canal throughout the extent of their ter-
ritory, by which they not only acqnired 21,000 dollars
ready money, but also made a considerable sum by fur-
nishing the neighbouring contractors with bread. ‘They
have likewise built, by their own unaided efforts, a large,
handsome, and substantial bridge across the ie aime ie
as well as one over the canal, which are open, free of
all expense, for the largest carriages. Upon the banks
of the canal they have erected a handsome and roomy
house as a depot for their own produce, as well as that
of their neighbours, which yields them considerable
profit. An inn upon the canal is no less lucrative, as
nearly every article of consumption is of their own
growing. ‘Their brewery not only supplies their own
wants but also the demands of the two inns in the
town and that on the canal, which it also furnishes
with brandy. ‘They have likewise a very well-arranged
grinding-mill, with a double set of stones. A _ brick-
layer, who is attached to the company, made the draw-
ings for it from a mill at a considerable distance, and
has designed and executed the whole of the arrange-
ments with so muneh_ skill, that the whole process
requires the care only of one man and a boy. ‘To it
are attached two carding-machines, and a large sawing’
mill; in the town is a store containing a threshing-ma-
chine, oil; corn, and other mills. The former threshes
daily 200 bushels of wheat, and 300 of oats by means
of a single water-wheel. ‘They have likewise, besides
various other machines, one for shearing cloth, looms
for stockings, linens, &c.: the latter managed by four
women.
The spinning of the linen-yarn furnishes employ-
ment during the winter for the aged women and young
children: being very fine, it is in much repute, and
sells in the shops for one dollar (nearly 5s.) a pound.
A little fnrther on is the bake-house, where excellent
white bread is made by two. women; and near it are
the shambles, where an ox is killed every week and
distributed among the different dining-houses. ‘The
neiohbouring tanneries supply materials for the shoes
which are made by two shops for the community, as
well as for sale. In two other houses twelve women
are occupied in making up shirts, &c., for the members
of the whole association. ‘The smith, whieelwright,
locksmith, and carpenter, have each their appropriate
workshops. Out of the town are some well-managed
lime and brick-kilns; where, by means of a machine,
two persons are able to make 2000 bricks in an hour.
The recreation of the community has also been pro-
vided for in a very extensive garden in the centre of the
town; which, besides abundance of flowers and vege-
tables, contains greenhouses for citrons and pomegra-
nates. It is much frequented by strangers who take up
their abode in the little inn, where they find a good
3G 2
412
table in the German style, and pianofortes. These
latter are met with in several other houses, and the
community pass several hours every Sunday at a little
musical entertainment, where they sing hymns, &c.
The capital of the colony is estimated at 137,400
dollars, about 34,300/., which is altogether clear profit ;
for the settlers had not a single shilling of their own
when they first embarked in “this association. Their
constitution is as follows :—The chief management of
the colony, the keeping of the accounts, correspondence,
and direction of Divine Service, have been unanimously
entrusted to their leader, M. Baumler, who had ac-
quired the confidence of the whole community while
they were living in Germany. He is assisted by three
directors, who are chosen for three years, but one of
whom is obliged to resign every year. ‘The election is
by ballot, in which every person of the age of twenty-
one has the right of participating. Each director has
his own department of agricultural, domestic, and
adininistrative economy; they meet every night at the
house of their leader, consult upon matters affecting the
welfare of the community, and determine the labours of
the following day. On the following morning, such
persons as have no stated employment assemble upon
a given signal before the house of Badumler, and each
of the directors chooses the person whom he considers
best qualified for his particular business. ‘The directors
are, however, obliged to take a personal share in the
most difficult part of their labours, and to excite their
workmen by their example.
With this abundance of food and other necessaries, it
may be truly said that a person may live free frum all
care in Zoar. Every child too, from the ages of three
or four, is sent to the general public school, which is
supermtended by three females. The children are in-
structed in easy labours suitable to their age; the girls,
for instance, in spinning, and the boys in plaiting straw;
so that each has a fixed task, at the termination of which
they are turned into the play-ground.
THE JERBOA.
THe beautiful and singular little rodent known as the
jerboa belongs to a numerous group, which has_re-
ceived the weneric appellation of Dipus, from the Greek
words Ais Tlovs, in allusion to their appearing as if
furnished only with posterior limbs; the fore-limbs
being so small and delicate as almost to escape notice.
The striking characteristic, indeed, of the species com-
posing this group, consists in the extraordinary de-
velopment of the posterior extremities, on which, as on
slender stilts, the body seems to be elevated. Jn con-
junction with this structure, their pace consists of a
series of bounds or leaps, performed with extreme
rapidity, so as to render them a match for the swiftest
dog in the chace. ‘hey seem to elude pursuit almost
by a sort of flight, so rapid are all their movements,
and to such a distance do they spring. When at rest,
they are supported exclusively on the hind-legs, the tail
acting as a balance to the body leaning obliquely
forwards. In making each successive leap, they spring
from the hind-toes and alieht on the fore-feet, elevating
themselves with such celerity as to deceive the eye, for
it appears as if they constantly maintained throughout
their flight an obliquely upright attitude. The length
and vigour of the hinder limbs ‘render this mode of
progression not only prompt and rapid, but easy and
natural, To proceed by any other would’ indeed be
impossible ; for the anterior limbs are even smaller, in
proportion, than they are in the kangaroo, or in ‘the
leaping-hare of the Cape (Helamys Capensis), or indeed
in any other animal approaching them in general con-
formation
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
side, above the others.
The localities ft equented by the jerboas are |
[October 28,
sandy deserts, such as those of Egypt, Syria, Tartary,
&¢c., the surface of which is not only loose and yielding,
bait often hot beneath the rays of the burning sun. We
mention these facts the more particularly becanse the
hiud-feet of the jerboas are peculiarly adapted for such
localities. The toes, three or five in number (to this
point we shall again advert), are spreading, at least
such is the case with three, and are moreover well
furnished with tufts of stiff hairs beneath, by means of
which not only is the skin defended but oreat security
given to the footing on a loose surface, of which, as it
were, the tufts of hair lay hold, at the same time that
they increase the actnal spread of the foot, as does the
elastic pad beneath the toes of the camel.
The fore-paws of the jerboas are divided into five
minute toes, but the number of toes on the hinder feet
vary; and it ison this difference, in conjunction with
slieht osteologica] points of variation, that Frederick
Cuvier has recently founded certain divisions or genera
In the group, to which the term Dipus had formerly
been extended. ‘In the true jerboas, to which the title
Dipus is now restricted, the toes are only three, and
are articulated, as in birds, to a single metatarsal bone,
instead of each toe having its own “separate metatarsal
bone, as in the hare, rabbit, rat, &c. In the allac-
tavas (Gen. Allactaga, F. Cuy.) the toes are fiye—
three principal toes, and a rudimentary one on each
The three principal toes are
united to a single metatarsal bone, but the two rudi-
mentary toes have each their own minnte metatarsal
bone. ‘* We know,” observes M. Cuvier, ‘* that the
three principal toes of the allactagas, as well as the
three only toes of the gerboas, are articulated to a single
metatarsal bone, and that the two rudimentary toes of
the first genus have each their metatarsal bone; whence
it results that the penultimate segment of the foot is
coinposed of three bones in the allactagas, and of one
only in the jerboas. ‘The incisors of the allactagas are
simple, whilst those in the upper jaw of the jerboas are
divided longitudinally by a furrow. ‘The molars of the
latter @enus are complicated in form, and but little
resemble those of the former. They are four in num-
ber in the upper jaw and three in the lower; but the
first in the upper is a small rudimentary tooth, which
probably disappears in aged individuals *.”
Allied to the jerboas and allactagas is a gronp dis-
tinouished by Desmarest under the name of Gerbillus ;
bnt in these animals the toes are five in number, each
having its own metatarsal bone. One of these animals,
the Eeyptian gerbille (Gerbillas Atgyptius, Desm.—
Gerb. Pyramidum, Geoffr.), is a most elegant little
creature, about the size of a mouse, with hind-lees as
long as its body: its colour is pale fawn above, pure
white below, and its long tail is brown and tufted at
the tip. ‘This species lives in burrows in the environs
of Memphis, and the Pyramids of Egypt; and sports
amidst monuments of ancient erandeur, fallen temples,
and the ruins of a “world gone by.”
Besides this, seven other species of gerbille (in all
eight) are enumerated by M. Cuvier. It is with the
true jerboas, however, that we are more immediately
concerned, of which the Dipws Gerboa, Gmel. (Mus
Sagitta, Linn.), given in the cut, is the representa-
tive. ‘Ihe characters of the jerboas, besides those
exhibited by the feet, and to which we have adverted,
are as follow :—The head is large, and somewhat like
that of a rabbit in miniature, but the muzzle is shorter
and more obtuse; the eyes are large, full, and dark;
the ears are large, spreading, and open, indicating the
sense of hearing to be extremely acute: in corrobora-
tion it may be observed, that the tympanic bone is
enormously developed, far more so than in the allac-
tagas; the whiskers are lone and full; the tail is
* See ‘ Proceedings of Zoological Society,’ 1836, p. 141,
1837.]
THE PENNY
MAGAZINE. 413
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long, covered with short close hair, except at the extre-
mity, which is tufted: it is generally carried in a sig-
moid form (like the letter S). The fur is exquisitely
delicate and sleek. The common posture is that of
siltine on the haunches, the fore-paws being used in
the same manner as those of the squirrel.
The jerboa is very timid, and retires on the least
alarm to its burrow. It lives in troops, which make
their retreats in the sand, often burrowing to a consi-
derable extent, but seldom to any great depth; and
around the entrance of these they are often seen sitting
or playing’, or engaged in search of food. The north
of Africa, Egypt, and Syria are the countries in which
this species is indigenous. Among those who have
observed its manners in a state of freedom we may
notice Sonnini. ‘‘ The jerboa,’ he says, ‘‘ appears to
be a prolific animal, for it is exceedingly numerous in
Arabia, Nubia, Egypt, and Barbary. During my stay,
or rather my excursions, in Eeypt, I opened several
jerboas: my principal aim was to ascertain that they
had only one stomach, and consequently could not
possess the power of ruminating. ‘This was in answer
to one of the questions that Michaelis, professor at
Gottingen, had addressed to the travellers sent to the
East by the Kine of Denmark—viz., whether the jer-
boa was a ruminating animal?—a question arising
from the mistake which had occasioned the confounding
tlle jerboa with the Daman Israel, or Saphan of the
Hebrews.”
“The sand and ruins that surround modern Alex-
andria are uch frequented by the jerboas. They live
in society, and in burrows, which they dig with their
teeth and nails. J have even been told that they some-
times make their way through the soft stone which ts
under the stratum of sand. Though not absolutely
wild, they are very shy; and npon the least noise, or
the sight of any object, retire precipitately to their holes.
They cau only be killed by surprise. ‘The Arabs con-
trive to take them alive by stopping up all the avenues
to their burrows, except one, by which they force them
to come out. I never ate any: their flesh, indeed, is
said not to be very palatable, though it is not despis d
by the Egyptians. ‘Their skin, covered with soft and
shining hair, is used as a common fur.
“In Eeypt, IF kept six of these animals, for some
time, in a Jarge iron cage; the very first night they
entirely gnawed through the upright and cross pieces
of wood, and I wus obliged to have the inside of the
cage lined with tin. They ate rice, walnuts, and all
kinds of frnit. They delighted in being in the sun.
Although they have a great deal of agility in their
motions, they seem to be of a mild and tranquil dis-
position: mine suffered themselves to be touched with-
out difficulty; and there was neither noise nor quarrel
among them, even when taking their food. At the
same time they testified neither joy, fear, nor gratitude ;
their gentleness was neither amiable nor interesting:
it appeared to be the effect of cold and complete in-
difference, bordering on stupidity. Three of these
animals died successively before my departure from
Alexandria. I lost two others during a somewhat
stormy passage to the Isle of Rhodes, when the last,
owing to the negligence of the person to whose care it
was committed, got out of its cage and disappeared.”
Sonnini states the jerboa to be diurnal in its habits,
delighting to bask in the light and heat of the sun.
We must observe that this account does not agree with
our own observations made upon several individuals
which we have had the opportunity of seeing in cap-
tivity in this country. It may be that the presence of
persons restrained them from following their natural
inclinations; certain it is, however, that they secluded
themselves in their nestling-place, covered with fine hay,
wool, and other soft materials, till the stillness of even-
ine, when they wonld timidly steal forth, but retire on the
least noise, or on the sndden appearance of an intruder.
Buffon, speaking of the jerboas, observes, that day, and
not night, is the season of their repose. Wis words
are, ‘* They sleep only during the day, and never at
night; they eat grain and herbage, as do the hares:
414
their disposition is gentle, nevertheless they are capable
of being familiarized only to a certain point. They dig
burrows like rabbits, and in far less time; they there
lay up a magazine of herbs at the end of summer, and,
in the colder countries, there pass the winter.”
We have reason, however, to believe that the jerboa
peculiar to Egypt and Syria does not hibernate, what-
ever allied species in Tartary may do, where it is not
improbable that the winter is passed by them in a state
of torpidity. Edwards, in his ‘Gleanings,’ gives a very
good fignre (pl. 219) of the common jerboa, or gerbua,
as he writes it, from a living specimen which came
under his notice. ‘‘It seems to be,” he says, ‘a very
harmless creature, aud feeds much in the same manner
that rabbits and hares do, eating corn and herbs of
many sorts. It is more shy and keeps closer to its
hutch in the day-time than in the dusk of evening,
when it ventures forth, and hops more familiarly and
with less fear about the room where it is kept, which
inclines me to believe it is naturally a nocturnal animal.”
Pliny, in the eighth book, speaks of the jerboas under
the term of Eeyptian mice, and describes them in few
words, as residing in burrows, going along on two feet,
the fore-feet being used as hands. But he enters into
no details as to their habits and manners. The jerboa
was, however, well known to the ancients under the
name of the dwo-footed mouse, and its figure is im-
pressed on some coins of Cyrene, where it is still very
common.
In size, the common jerboa equals a rat, being some-
What more than six inches in the length of the head
and body to the root of the tail, that of the tail being
about eight inches. The veneral colour is pale tawny-
brown above, white below; the crupper is crossed by a
White semilunar, band, or crescent, extending on each
side from beneath the root of the tail; the tail is tufted
at its extremity, and is tipped with white, preceded by a
band of black. The thumb is small, and furnished
with a blunt nail; those of the fingers are curved,
Sharp, and well adapted for digging. This species is
figured in Lichtenstein’s work, under the specific title
of Dipus Aigyptius, Hempr. and Ehrenbd.
A MONTH AT SEA.
[Continued from No. 356.]
Aue. 17th. Going on most prosperously. We have
never slackened on our course since [ made my last entry.
Kind-hearted Margaret came to my bed-side early this
morning, to tell me that at four o’clock we were going
twelve knots, right on our course. If we hold on till
noon, we are pretty sure of being carried straight in by
this blessed wind. All are well, and in better temper,
unless it be Mrs. Happen. Yesterday, while all was
bright and gleesome, she was “ low.” She did not
kkuow that we should ever arrive! Betting is the order
of the day with the idle young men. As the weather
is not wet, and they cannot therefore bet upon the rain-
drops running down the cabin windows, they are obliged
to find or make other subjects for bets. Yesterday at
dinner they betted abont whether they could rol! up
bits of bread so tight as not to break when thrown
down on deck! Also whether they could swallow a
pill of bread so rolled up, the size of the end of the
thumb. They were so impatient that they could not
wait till the cloth was removed, but missed their dessert
for the sake of this thumbed bread. ‘They bet at cards,
aud one of them declared he had lost sixteen dollars,—
4i. After having talked very loud over their cards, till
just midnight, last night Dr. Sharp got his flute, and
played execrably, till requested to be quiet till morning.
It did not occur to him that he was disturbing anybody.
Lhe captain is very grave, while all looks so pros-
perous His sister says, with tears, that “ it isa hard
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
voyage to him;” but we tell her it will not matter a
month hence, when his unamiable passengers will have
dispersed to the four winds, He discovered yesterday
that the stewards have been leaving the ice-house door
open, so that the ice is nearly all gone; and he fears he
shall lose some of his best joints of beef. Upon this he
good-humouredly said, ‘* Sea-captains are not intended
to be good-tempered. It should not be looked for.
At the top of a heap of little vexations, comes a gale ;
and then they should not be expected not to shout pretty
sharply to their crews.” We do not believe he ever
does. He showed good manners yesterday to a ship
that we hailed. In the early morning, when the foe
drew up, there was an etherial vision of a ship on our
horizon. We overtook her justat noon. (We overtake
every thing.) She looked so beautiful all the morning,
that we did nothing but watch her. As we approached
we went to leeward, the captain explaining, in answer
to our questions, that it is worth losing a little time to
be civil, She was the St. Vincent of Bristol, thirty-
three days from Jamaica. I pitied the poor ladies on
board, of whom we saw many on deck., ‘The captains
each asked the other to report him, in case of arriving
first. Our young men laughed at the idea of our being
reported by a ship thirty-three days from Jamaica ;
but our captain looked grave, and said it would be pre-
sumptuous to make sure of our having no accident; and
uncivil to assure the St. Vincent that she could not, by
possibility, be of any service to us. She could have
spared us some limes; but it would have used up too
much time to send a boat for them; so we dashed on,
and she was out of sight westwards before the after-
noon, I never saw a greater press of sail than she
carried ; but her bows were like a breakwater, so square
and clumsy.
In the afternoon I read ‘ Much Ado about Nothing,’
and watched a shoal of porpoises. They are welcome
visiters in any weather; but they seem particularly
lively in a rough sea, chasing one another, aud shooting
through the midst of a rising billow. ‘They are some-
times caught and killed, to be eaten, more as a curiosity
than a delicacy. I am told that the meat resembles
coarse and tough beef. The mate wounded one to-day ;
and its companions crowded on it to eatit up. Some
Jaques on board asked me if this was not the way of
‘the world; to which I indignantly answered, No !
18th. Still dashing on. Mr. Brownine expects we
shall vet in on Tuesday of next week: the captain says,
Thursday or Friday. [ listen to neither, knowing how
little such calculations are to be depended upon.
2Ist, Sunday. We have been rolling about so that
it has been impossible to write. We have had a fine
run for eight days now. Yesterday’s observation gave
220 miles for the twenty-four hours. ‘The captain says,
we are pretty sure of running straight up to Liverpool.
By to-morrow morning, we may see land. I dreamed
last night that I saw it first;—a lovely Irish hill. It
is almost too cold now to be on deck, with any amount
of cloakage: a sign of being near land. The joke,
since we passed the half-way, has been to annoy me by
ascribing all evils whatever to the foggy English cli-
mate. Mr. Browning began; the captain carrries it
ou; and the ingenuity with which they keep it up is
surprising. Something of the sort drops from the cap-
tain’s lips, like a grave passing observation, many times
a day. I shall have no respite now; for every one will
be too cold till we land.
We had a prodigious run last night. While we were
at our rubber, the news spread (as news does on board
ship) that the captain was on deck, taking in sail,
ordering in the dead-lights (the shutters which block
up the cabin-windows in the stern), and ‘‘ expecting a
blow.” Under the idea that it was raining, I was, for
ouce, about to retire to my room without running up on
fOcroser 28,
1837.]
deck ; but the captain came for me, thinking I should
like to see what was doing: and indeed he was right.
Though he had taken in the studding-sails, mainsail,
and royals, we were flying through at the rate of twelve
knots. ‘The clouds were blown down the eastern sky,—
and the stars so bright, they looked as if they were
coming down. But below us, what a sight! The daz-
zling spray was dashed half a mile off, in a level sur-
face which looked like a white marble floor, oemined
with stars. The captain says, people talk of the mo-
notony of the sea; but the land is to him monotonous
in comparison with the variety in which he revels in his
niglit-watches. It is evidently a perpetual excitement
and delight to him. But, truly, the contrast between
the deck and the cabin is wonderful. When I came
down at midnight, I thought it possible that some of
the ladies might be alarmed; and I therefore told Mar-
waret, in a voice loud enough to be heard by any who
might be trembling in their berths, that the captain said
it would be a fine night, and that the stars were already
bright. Half an hour after, when I was asleep, Miss
Saunders came down, and the following took place :—
A trembling voice from soinewhere cried, “ Miss
Saunders! Miss Saunders!”
Miss Saunders peers into all the ladies’ rooms, and
finds itis Mrs. O’Brien who calls.
Mrs. O. “ Miss Saunders, is the storm very bad ?—
is there much danger ?”’
Miss S. “‘There is no storm, ma'am: only a brisk,
fair wind. I heard nothing of any danger.”
When Miss Saunders is falling asleep, she is roused
by another call, She puts on a cloak, and goes tu
Mrs. O’Brien’s room.
Mrs. O. “ O, Miss Saunders! haven't we shipped a
sea?”
Miss S. looks round the cabin.
not see any sea.”
Before she is quite asleep, she hears Miss Lamine’s
voice from the sofa, to which the captain has kindly
lashed chairs, to prevent her falling off; as she persists
in sleeping there, though retaining her berth.
Miss Lamine. “°O, Mrs. Happen! Mrs. Happen!”
Mrs. H. “ Well! what do you want?”
Miss L. ‘* We are sinking, ma’am. I feel the ship
sinking !”
Miss Saunders wakes up to assure the ladies that the
ship is on the surface. Mrs. Happen grumbles at her
first sleep being broken. She slept no more; and of
course is out of humour with the whole universe to-day.
Nothing is on her lips but that Miss Lamine broke her
first and only sleep.
I have had a talk, prodigious for its breadth, length,
depth, aud earnestness, with Mr. Browning, about the
duty of republicans exercising the suffrage; brought on
by his saying that he had never voted but once in his
life. I believe we said an octavo volume between us,
—I hope to some purpose. He is a good man, with a
warm simple heart, a full sense of what he owes to his
excellent wife, and a head which only wants to be put
alittle in order. He is full of knowledge, and fond of
thinking.
Mrs. O’Brien has, we suppose, kept her temper in
check as long as she can; for now it is coming out
worse than Mrs. Happen’s, if that be possible. At
dinner, the other day, she began to scold her danghters,
in the presence of passengers and servants: but the
captain warded it off by saying that he would not have
the young ladies found fault with, for that I had been
telling him that I thought them very attentive, affec-
tionate daugliters. She looked gratified and compla-
cent; but not for long. In the evening, she com-
plained to Mrs. Ely, who was on the sofa, very unwell,
of her own sensibilities ; and confessed she felt very
hysterical,
“ No, maam: I do
THE PENNY MAGAZINE,
This confession from. lier lips is always a |
a signal for the cabin being cleared; every one dread- |
415
ine ascene. Jt was so now; and there were no hys-
terics. This morning, however, the sensibilities thus
repressed have broken out; and a most unsanctified
scene has disgraced our Sunday. The lady was cold in
the night. Margaret was sorry: would have been
happy to supply her with as many blankets as she
pleased, if she had but asked for them. The lady
would perish rather than ask Margaret for anything.
She would have no breakfast. Margaret entreated :
the daughters implored, with many tears. The lady
compelled them to go to the breakfast-table with their
swollen eyes; but no breakfast would she have. Mar-
o'aret, in the kindness of her heart, prepared a delicate
breakfast,—stron@ tea, hot buttered roll and_ sliced
tongue, The woman actually threw the breakfast at the
oirl’s head! Margaret was fluttered, and said she did
not know whether to laugh or cry. J advised her to do
neither, if she could help it. At breakfast, the captain,
knowing nothing of this scene, called—‘‘ Margaret, why
don’t youcarry Mrs. O’Brien some breakfast?” ‘I did,
sir,” replied the girl in a whisper; ‘and she hove tlie
bread at me.” ‘O ho!” said the captain. Presently,
he strode down the room, and into the ladies’ cabin,
both doors of which he shut. He soon came forth,
looking his gravest. The lady was very ‘‘ hysterical’
all day. very heart ached for her weeping daughters.
We have been asking Myr. Browning to propose the
captain’s health, with an expression of thanks and friend-
ship on the part of the passengers, the day before we
land. This is the usual practice, we believe, when the
captain has done his duty. Mr. Browning heartily
consents, saying that it is only the captain’s temper
which has kept any order at all. We hope that Mrs.
Happen may be so overawed as not to dare to move an
amendment.
Afternoon. Mr. Browning says he fears we must
vive the matter up. The young men have been abusing
the captain so erossly over their wines,—particularly for
not having the cow milked these two days, and for letting
Mr. Tracy have a room to himself, that something dis-
avreeable would certainly arise out of any attempt to
eratify our good friend. Our acknowledgments must
be made individually. Mr. Bruce drew up a very good
letter of thanks; but any formal proceeding from which
one-third of the passengers would probably choose to
exclude themselves, would give the captain as much
pain in one way as pleasure in another.
We took our seats at the bottom of the table at the
outset, to avoid any contention about precedence. It is
well we did; for the captain’s immediate presence is
required to keep the conversation from being really
offensive: it’s being very silly, even the captaim cannot
prevent. Here is a specimen or two.
Mr. Mann. “Mr. A. has so many bales of cotton
for sale this year.”
Mr. Larkin. “Tam sure I have not got that nim-
ber of bales of cotton.”
Dr. Sharp. “No; because you are a bale of cotton
yourself.” (Roars of laughter.)
Dr. Sharp. ‘*Somebody always says to me at tea-
time, ‘Sir, will you have black tea or green tea?—I
expect somebody will say to me some day, ‘ Sir, will
you have red tea or yellow tea?’”’ (Roars of laughter.)
Since I came on board, I seem to have gained a new
sense of the value of knowledwe, of an active, rea-
sonable mind, as well as of a disciplined and benevolent
temper. Notwithstanding the occasional mirth of these
people, and their ostentatious party merriment, I think
I never saw persons so unhappy. No suffering from
poverty or sickness ever struck me so mournfully as the
misery of these ship-mates, from vacuity of mind; from
selfishness, with all its little affectations ; from jealousy,
with its intolerable torments. How they get on in their
| homes I have no means of knowing; but the contrast
at sea between them and such of their fellow-passengers
416
as are peaceable, active, employed, and mutually accom-
modating is one of the most striking and instructive
spectacles I ever witnessed. The mischief has not stop-
ped with their immediate suffering from ennwt aud ill-
humour: some have been led to plot crime, which it is
no merit of their own that they do not execute. J can-
not enter here upon this part of their disgusting history :
suffice it that the captain’s vigilance and authority are
too strong for them. °
The wind blew us on gloriously all day; and tlicre
was every expectation at bed-time that we might sce
land at daybreak. In the evening, we sketched out
European tours, by the map, for such of our party as
were going to travel; and we were all in fine spirits.
The young men at the upper end of the table had an
arcument as to whether Sunday was over, so that they
might get to cards. They appealed to Miss Lamine
whether Sunday was not over when the sun set. She
decided in the negative; so Dr. Sharp began doling
forth a Report of a Charity, in the most melancholy
voice imaginable; and the whole coterie moved off very
early to bed.
22nd. The young men are making up for last evening’s
abstinence. They are busy at cards, almost before break-
fast is cleared away. What can they suppose religion Is ?
I have seen some Ivish earth. On sounding, we find
GO fathoms ; and some sand came up on the lead. Mr.
Browning thinks it not so clean and neat as American
saud. <A calm fell at five oclock; and we are moving
very slowly. There is fog at a distance; but we have
seen a faint, brief line of coast. JI do hope the sun will
come out, and the wind freshen at noon. Meantime,
the sea has lost its deep blue beauty, and we have not
arrived at the beauty of the land; so I think it an
excellent time for writing.
You should see how faded and even rotten our dresses
look, from head to foot. To-morrow or Weduesday we
hope to have the pleasure of dressing so as not to be
ashamed of ourselves and one another. But it is a
piece of extravagance, which none but silly people are
cuilty of, to dress well at sea, where the incessant damp
and salt ruin all fabrics and all colours. Silks fade ;
cottons cannot be washed ; stuffs shrink and curl. - Dark
prints perhaps look neat the longest. Mrs. Ely’s drawn
bonnet, of gingham, looks the handsomest article of
dress now on board; unless it be Miss Vaylor’s neat
black-print gown.
23rd. The rest of yesterday was very iteresting.
On going up, before noon, I found Ringan Head visible
at forty-five miles off; and three other points of high
land. At one, a favorable breeze sprang up, and lasted
till evening, when it died away. We drew nearer and
nearer to land, till we were within twelve miles. This
was off the Point of Kinsale, where we were when the
calm fell. The captain called me up after dinner, to
show me where the Albion was lost; the packet com-
manded by Captain Williams, which was lost, with all
the crew and passengers but two or three, I think, some
ten or twelve years ago. I could see thespot distinctly ;
a bay between two high points of land. The captain
ran into this bay in tlick weather, and was unable to
get out again. If the Albion had struck a few rods
further on, she would have gone on a sloping sand-
beach, and the passengers might have got out, alinost
without wetting their feet. As it was, she struck against
a perpendicular wall of rock.
The captain stayed talking with me all the afternoon,
and we watched for the kindling of the light on the
hi¢eh Point of Kinsale, 400 feet above the sea. It
looked so beautiful and so friendly that we could
attend to nothing else. ‘The last light I saw was the
Fort Gratiot light, on the wild evening when [I left
lake Huron in a thunder-storm. How familiar did the
Kinsale light look in comparison! ‘The captain’s heart
was quite opened by it. ‘I shall stand here,” he had
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
fOcToseR 28, 1837.
declared, “till I see that light. It is of no consequence
tome; I know where I am, and how to steer, but itis
pleasant to me to see those lights. They ought to have
kindled it by this time, I wonder we don't see it. There!
there it is! You can’t see it well yet. ° It will be deep
red presently. So many pleasant thoughts belong to
such a light—so many lives saved—so many feelings
made comfortable!” J felt it Ike the first welcome
home. The dim outline of land in the morning was
pleasant but mute: here were human hands at work
for us. It was, to all intents and purposes, a signal ;
and I could not turn my eyes from it.
We saw, this afternoon, a fishing-boat with its dark
brown sails. ‘Through the @lass, I discerned two men
in her, and cried out that I had seen two Irishmen.
Everybody langhed at me. To be sure, we have more
than that on board; and you may meet 100 per hour in
New York; but that is not like seeing them in their
own boat, fishing in their own sea. Sail hovered about
us all day. Mrs. O'Brien is busy in the cabin among
her bandboxes, quilling and trimming. I shall not
take ont any of my land-clothes yet, to eet mildewed,
when we may still be some time in reaching port. I
am afraid of growing restless if I prepare for shore too
soon. One wonld shun the heart-sickness of hope
delayed when one can. Pouring rain to-night; so we
sit down to our rubber as if we had not seen land.
This is chiefly (as it has been throughout) for Mr. Ely’s
sake. He is very poorly, and reads quite enough by
daylight. He seems to enjoy his rubber in the evening.
[To be continued.]
Manilla—The Orazion.—A Prussian -naturalist, who
has lately returned from: exploring the New World, men-
tions the prevalence of a singular religious practice in that
quarter, in a letter to a friend at Berlin. “In Manilla, too,
I found more ecclesiastics than soldiers. - When the bell
rings to prayers at sunset, a silence, as if one general stroke
of palsy had smitten human kind, instantly ensues; every-
one uncovers his head, and, in the interior of the country,
the Tagals fall upon their knees, turn their faces towards
their places of worship, and raising their voices, pour out
their souls in prayer to the Divinity. This done, they Jump
up, and each wishes his neighbour good-night in his own
dialect. If they have a stranger guest under their roof
(and they always place their best apartment at his disposal),
they pay him a visit and, kneeling down, wish him a hearty
eood-night. When quartered on the haciendas (or farms)
of the richer class of Spaniards, I have seen an almost in-
numerable throng of servants and labourers run towards
their master, and kneeling down, kiss his hands, simul-
taneously ejaculating, “ Buenas noches, Senoral’ This is
their invariable practice, and they are expected to adhere
rigidly to it.. There is something very reverential in the
universal deference paid to the ‘‘Orazion” among the
people of Spanish descent. Not only amidst the tumul-
tnous scenes of common life, and in places of the greatest
public resort, in every town in South America, but at the
back of the Cordilleras, where the human race inhabit
regions far above the elevation of the clouds under our own
sky; beneath the burning sun of the Brazils, no less than
among the remote islands of the Chinese seas, we have
never failed to be overtaken, if I may be allowed thie ex-
pression, by the ‘Oration Bell.” At every corner your ear
is saluted with cries of “ Orazion! Orazton?’ Men stand
suddenly still, as if nailed to the spot; and no sound but
that of the melodious bell from some distant steeple breaks
the instantaneous silence. On one occasion we saw two
Spaniards for a length of time interchanging all sorts of
civilities; and as we passed them, heard them repeating
over and over again, ‘‘ Digame usted! Digame usted!”
(Tell me, good Sir! Pray tell me!’) Upon inquinng
into the cause of this strange game at words, I was in-
formed that it arose out of the polite reluctance which each
of them felt to wish his friend good-night !”"
*.* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at
59, Lincoln's Inn Fields.
LONDON: CIIARLES KNIGHT & CO., 22, LUDGATE STREET,
Printed by WinLiam CLowes and Sons, Stamford Street.’
MonthiIp Supplement of
THE PENNY MAGAZINE
society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge.
September 30 to October 31, 1837,
DI. ]
A LOOKING-GLASS FOR LONDON.—No. ALY.
PUBLIC WORSHIP AND EDUCATIONAL CHARITIES.
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| [Chapel Royal, Whitehall. ] |
Vo a certain extent we may say of London, that
there are dwelling in it “devout men out of every
nation under heaven.” These all worship the Deity
after their own belief and manner; and wherever
any particular sect or opinion has adherents sufficient
VoL. VI.;
to open a place of worship, it is done. Religious in-
struction is administered in many accents and lan-
euaces; and if the stranger only knew where to turn
himself, it would be hard indeed if, out of the 500 places
of worship j in the'metropolis, he could not find a ministuy —
3 i
418
to his liking, a doctrine taught the nearest to that
which he believed, or a church or chapel convenient to
his abode, wherever in London it might be. But this
very diversity of choice often prevents a choice from
being made. The foreigner, speaking French, or
Spanish, or German, may soon accommodate himself,
for the direction in which he ought to go is soon found
out; and the Englishman of sharply-defined and ex-
treme opinions, to which he is ardently attached, may
soon determine, out of the two or three congregations
of opinions similar to his own, the one he will choose to
sit down in. But it is otherwise with the great bulk of
the people. Numbers, creatures of habit and associa-
tion, but not of decided opinions -on religious matters,
are daily. throwing themselves into this wilderness of
men. ‘These, losing sight of the “old familiar faces,”
and out of hearing of the tones of voice with which,
from infancy, they have connected religious instruction,
and perhaps shielded by their obscurity, and their de-
tachment from friends, and the force of opinion, lose
the regularity with which they were accustomed to
attend church or chapel, and swell the large number
who, in London, do not attend places of worship, or
who attend only casually.
The principle, acted upon so extensively, that, in
many things, a man in London may “do that which
seems right in his own eyes,’ adds to the patehwork
appearance of a London Sunday. In most other places
there is something like umty of character; gravity or
eaiety prevails; the Sunday is either decidedly a Sab-
bath, a day devoted to public worship and _ religious
instruction, or it is in a great degree, as on the Con-
tinent, a day of relaxation and of amusement. Dut it
is both the one and the other in London. In summer,
mingling with the thousands thronging to church or
chapel, are thousands thronging to the steam-boats, or
filling the short stages and omnibuses. Qne man
dresses himself for church; another takes his spade
aud works in his garden, or reads the newspaper just
left at his house by the newsman. A large portion of
the working’ classes, paid their wages late on Satur-
day night, or detained by their occupations, make their
markets on Sunday mornings; and for their accom-
modation, butchers, chandlers, and greengrocers, in
crowded districts, have their shops open, some of them
with a veil, such as a shutter up in the centre of the
window, or with a half-closed door. Barbers are busy
removing the incumbrance of a week. Old clothesmen
are walking in front of their doors, and offering to
accommodate the passenger with changes of raiment,
Pies are constructing, potatoes are scraping, and meat
placing in dishes, to be hurried to the baker's oven
before eleven o’clock. Eleven o'clock arrives, aud gin-
shops, bakers’, butchers’, and g@reengrocers’ are hastily
closed—the ‘‘ eleven o’clock beer” perhaps barely got
out in time. Then, from eleven o'clock till one, a coim-
parative stillness reigns in the streets. ‘The working
man may have taken his children out into the fields—
for it must be confessed that a large portion of the
working men of London are not regular attendants
on public worship,—the mother, meanwhile, scrubbing
and cleaning, and preparing for the dinuer at one.
The afternoons of London Sundays, in fine weather,
are busily employed. The population seems to be
poured into the outskirts. The parks are crowded ; in
Hyde Park, during the “season,” there is the gorgeous
display of carriage and horse and rider; and the Zoo-
logical Gardeus are full. Highways, and fields, and tea-
gardens are spotted over with myriads ; and Greenwich
Park and the river seem alive with the hum of human
beings.
Still a very prevailing characteristic of the London
Sunday is that of attendance upon public worship.
Standing on one of the bridges between ten and
eleven o’clock, surveying the many spires “ heaven-
MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF
-[OcrozeEr 3],
directed,” and listening to the almost innumerable
bells whose sounds fill the air, one mieht fancy that
there were temples for even such a vast populatiou,
and that all who could attend were ready to issue forth.
Nor would the impression be much dimiaished by visit-
ing some of the principal streets. The veek-day din
of Oxford Street or Cheapside is hushed, the pave-
ments are lined by people whose dress and air p delaiin
whither they are going; and streams of children, 7:om
charity and Sunday-schools, are marching rank and fh
to occupy the galleries allotted to them in their respec-
tive places of worship. Many churches and chapels
are crowded to overflowing by anxious and expectant
multitudes, and many pulpits are filled by eloquent and
fervent-minded men. Strange sieht indeed it would
be, if the 500 churches and chapels and meeting-houses
were converted into one vast hall, and we all heard
‘every inan in our own tongue wherein we were born.”
These 500 places of worship can accommodate at least
600,000 people; and if they were all regularly filled,
the result would be a gratifying testimony to the cha-
racter of the metropolis, so far as attendance on public
worship might be taken as a test of public and private
morals. For if these 500 places of worship are amongst
a population of 2,000,000, then striking off one-fifth
for those ‘who cannot distinguish between their right
hand and their left hand,” and making due allowance
for sick and those in attendance on them—for maternal!
heads of young and large families—for the many ab-
sentees whose business or pleasure take them frequently
from London—for servants in inns and private houses,
&c., the number able at one time to attend public wor-
ship in London will be found to be considerably under
a milliou. if, then, the 600,000 seats provided in
places of worship are occupied at each service, there
would be a very large proportion indeed of worshippers
to the population *.
Attached to these 500 places of worship are not less
than 600 clergymen. If 1,500,000 of the population
are competent to receive religious instruction, there
would be one clergyman to every 2500. The incomes
of the incumbents of the various churches and chapels
in London counected with the Established Church
amount to about 120,000/. As there are upwards of
330 incumbents aud curates, this sum divided amonest
them would yield each about 363/.; but some of thie
yearly stipends to curates are as lowas 502. If the 270
Dissenting clergymen of all denominations receive only,
on an average, 2004. each, this will amount to 54,0001.
yearly.
From the above statement, there would appear to be
a tolerably full provision for the religious instruction of
the metropolis. But the statement is necessarily falla-
cious. As a number of clergyinen hold prefermeuts in
the country, and some of the curates perform duty at
* The Rev. B. W. Noel presents the following tabular state-
ment of the number of wershippers, stated without excluding the
“city” of London, He admits, however, that if is probably rather
over than under stated :—
Regular worshippers in the Establishment . .
Ditto of other orthodox denominations. . . .
Regular orthodox worshippers . 6 ¢ + .
Members of church-going families «2. . + 2. 4 ©
Regular orthodox worshippers and their
families 5... Boe
Occasional worshippers in the Establishment .
Ditto of other orthodox denominations. . . .
Occasional orthudox worshippers . 2. 6
247,041
106 , 800
eee 343, 9001
212,304
566,145
300,746
i
866,891
74,460
Whole number of orthodox worshippers » « . + « « «
Undrrnodex Worsiiipfiets .. + «6 oe fe oe oe
Whole number of worshippers « . 2 2 © » « e « © « 941,291
There can be but little doubt, as Mr. Noel admits, that this ig
an exaggerated statement. Even inecfuding the “city,” 941,291
out of such a mixed population as the metropolis, would amcunt
to all who, from their age, health, or occupations, were able to
attend public worship.
=
i x
1837.|
more than one church or chapel, the proportion of
clergymen to the population must be altered; but the
Ecclesiastical Returns do not enable us to state how
much. Again, the unequal parochial distribution of
the metropolis causes the church accommodation to he
larger in the total than it is in detail, or rather in prac-
tical Operation.
After the Great Fire had swept the “city,” numerous
parish churches arose; many of them erected by Sir
Christopher Wren, and most of them at no creat dis-
tance from each other. Men in those days lived crowded
towether; the merchant’s house was over or near his
counting-room, and people worshipped within their ad-
joining parish churches. But times are altered—the
“ West-end,” the suburbs, and the omnibuses have
drawn away the population; and the ‘‘ city,” so swarm-
ing and stunning a place during the week, is com-
paratively quiet and deserted on Sundays. ‘The city
churches, whose spires have so picturesque an effect
when seen from the river or a distance, are far more
than enough for the wants of the population. There
are seventy churches and one chapel in the city, the
incomes of whose incumbents amount to 36,000/., and
to which are attached 123 clergymen. ‘This is exclu-
sive of St. Paul’s Cathedral. The accommodation
afforded in these churches is for 60,000. When we
make the usnal deduction from the population, allow-
ing for the very numerons absentees, and for the Dis-
senters, whose places of worship are very many in and
around the city, there will be fonnd, probably, not
so much as 40,000 able to attend at one time, and of
whom but a portion do attend.
durning from the city to Marylebone, St. Pancras,
or Islington, what a contrast meets us there! In the
city enumeration, parish after parish occurs, In nearly
each of which thereis a parish church. Some of the
parishes are a few yards in extent, and their inhabitants,
young and old, could be almost contained in a dwelling-
house. But the three parishes named are capacious
districts, miles in cirenit, the first two, especially,
crowded with a wealthy and teeming popniation. In
these, and in others, it has been found necessary to erect
district churches and chapels, subordinate to the parish
churches, and many of them as large. As the “‘ West
end,” with the exception of what lies in Westminster,
Is contained in the borough of Marylebone, (the bo-
rongh comprehends Marylebone, St. Pancras, and Pad-
dineton) it necessarily contains avery finctuating po-
pulation; still, the disproportion between it and the
city,’ in church accommodation, is remarkable, even
making allowance for a considerable number of dissent-
ing chapels. The borough of Marylebone contains 20
churches and chapels, with 86 clergymen. The accom-
modation is for about 30,000. Wrestininster, exclusive
of the Abbey, has 18, with 38 ciergyinen, and accom-
modation for about 24,000. In all London, exclusive
of the city, there are upwards of 130 churches and
chapels connected with the Eistablished Church, with
abont 200 clergymen. |
Ten years ago, the Rev. Mr. Blackburn, a clergy-
nian of the Independent persuasion in Islington (the
present minister of Claremont chapel) stated the pro-
portion of dissenting conereeations in London as fol-
lows. His statement was adopted lately by the Rev.
B. W. Noel, minister of St. John’s chapel, Bedford
Row, in a letter addressed by him to the Bishop of
London :—
Independent Chapels « « « « 6 « « « « 66
Wreesrevaa) IWetnOdista) wae 6 » + « « « 30
ots « . 6 Mn 6 6 6 6 ee 5 « « Os
Calvinistic Methodists .« «© « « ee... 30
PresbyterianS «. 6 « @ «© «© © © «© © «© » 1G
Imeiman, Gatholicg « eco. .cumses eubsecne emmucl
Quakers moe « o « ee & ik. 6 & Tee
wr Ota! ts "so Ghleme ¥ ove o —— 200
This statement must be very considerably increased,
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
A19
on account of the omission of the Jews, and of small
congrerations professing peculiar opinions, such as the
Swedenborgians, Sandimanians, and (since the state-
ment was made) the body of people bearing the name
of the late Mr. Irving, who,-in addition to their central
place of worship, In Newman Street, have two or three
others; and also because of a number of new dissent-
ing chapels erected in recent years. We conclude, as
already stated, that there cannot be less than 270 large
and small congregations in London which worship
apart from the Established Church and after their own
manner,
There are seyen of the city churches in the diocese of
Canterbury; the rest, and all those on the Middlesex
side of London, are in the London diocese. ‘Those in
Lambeth and Southwark are in the diocese of Win-
chester.
Of the city churches, as the one whose fame is spread
the widest, may be mentioned St. Mary-le-Bow, in
Cheapside, represented in the engraving on page 424,
Whittington’s ** Bow bell’ church was destroyed in the
Great Fire. The present building was erected by Sir
Christopher Wren. ‘The consecration of the bishops of
London takes place in Bow church; and the ‘* Boyle
Lectures” are annually delivered in it.
St. Stephen’s, Walbrook, is another of the erections
of Sir C. Wren. ‘The interior is much to be admired ;
a view of it is given in vol.i. p. 280 of the * Penny
Maeazine. St. Mary Woolnoth, Lombard Street, was
the church of the well-known Rev. Mr. Newton; St.
Bride’s, Fleet Street, is famed for its spire; and St.
Giles’s, Cripplegate, contains the remains of Milton.
Westward, we may notice the churches in the Strand,
St. Martin’s (zoé in the fields now) at Charing Cross,
with its handsome portico; St. George's, Bloomsbury,
with its odd pyramidal steeple, surmounted by a statue
of George I.; St. George's, Hanover Square; St. Pancras
new parish church, a costly building; Marylebone new
parish church, and many others of architectural pre-
tension. As might naturally be expected, many of the
recently built district chnrches and chapels at the West-
end are handsome buildings, and are fitted up internally
with much of decoration andexpense. Generally, how-
ever, there is great room for improvement in our mod-
ern church architecture.
Whitehall Chapel, the interior of which is represented
onthe first page of the Supplement, is a chapel royal.
It is the ereat room of the building called Whitehall.
The ceiling was painted by Rubens. Whitelall is de-
scribed in vol. i. pp. 225, 226 of the “Penny Magazine.’
Of dissenting chapels and meeting houses, by far the
oreater number are more remarkable for their con-
yex10n With the memories of eminent men, than for their
architectural merits. Some erected in recent years are
an exception. We may rank with the buildings of the
dissenters, those episcopal chapels where, though the
service of the Established Churcli is used, and its ritual
followed, there is no actual or positive connexion. ‘They
are in fact, to the Enelish Established Church what the
Relief or Burgher church is in Scotland to the Scotch
Establishment. ‘The chapel of the late Rev. Rowland
Hill in Blackfriars Road can contain, it 1s stated, up-
wards of 5000 persons, and it ts frequently filled to
overflowing. ‘The Episcopal chapel, St. John’s, Bed-
ford Row, of which the Rev. Richard Cecil was minister,
is also a well-known and much-thronged place of wor-
ship. The original Tabernacle, erected by Whitheld in
Tottenham Court Road has been enlarged, and has
now the appearance of a modern structure. Albion
Chapel, Moorfields, a chapel in South Place, one im
Stamford Street, the fine building built for the late
Mr. Irving, and one or two recently-erected Catholic
Chapels, may be mentioned as among the more remark-
able of dissenting chapels in London, as to architec-
tural character.
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EDUCATIONAL CHARITIES.
Tue application of riches to the encouragement of
Jearning has always been regarded as a liberal and
munificent direction of charity. In the colleges and
public schools which they largely endowed, our an-
cestors have left monuments of the reverence with
which they looked upon education. ‘These institutions,
which we owe to their piety and good feeling, if their
resources were rightly applied, might be the means of:
awakening the gratitude of posterity to the latest @ene-
rations. It is unnecessary to go back to very remote
periods, but it could be shown that the Anelo-Saxons
looked upon the training of youth as an object of great
importance; and children were received into the mo-
nasteries, not only to be instructed in learning, but to
be taught useful occupations. In the reign of Stephen
there were, according to Stow, schools attached to the
three principal churchesin London. It is believed, also,
that at this time nearly every colleviate cathedral and
church had a school for ‘* poor scholars” in connexion
with it. ‘The higher classes at this time thought learning
beneath them ; and hence, if these ‘* poor scholars” had
not been aided by the benevolent, there would have been
a lack of educated men for the church, and other liberal
offices. ‘The income arising from charitable bequests
for the purposes of education in counties which have
been fully investigated by the Commissioners of Chari-
ties, amounts, for counties which contain one-half
of the population of England and Wales, to about
480,000/. per annum; and it may be presumed that
the total for all the counties is not less than 900,000.
In Yorkshire and Lancashire together, the sum of
40,000/. a-year, arising from endowments and charities,
is applicable to the purposes of education. We have
yet to speak of the large amount raised every year by
voluntary subscriptions and contributions in aid of the
same object. The educational endowments of Middle-
sex, exclusive of London and Westminster, amount to
above 12,000/. a-year; those of Westminster to above
9000/.; the parochial endowments of London to more
of endowed charities of every description; and to these
sums must be added the charities administered by char-
tered companies, which amount to about 60,000/. per
annum, a considerable portion of which are devoted
to the purposes of education. Many endowments were
made prior to the Reformation, but the greater number
of them originated in the sixteenth century, a period
of general mental activity and excitement. St. Paul's
School, Christ’s Hospital, Westminster, Merchant Tailors’ |
Free School, were all instituted at this period. Without
adopting any forced division, the benevolent exertions
for the promotion of education may be ascribed to four
ereat periods of renewed activity since the commence —
ment of the sixteenth century; and around these cul-
minating poits it may be desirable to place the infor-
mation collected relative to educational charity.
‘wo causes contributed to render the sixteenth cen-
tury a period in which much was done to promote
education. After the termination of the wars between
the houses of York and Lancaster the aristocracy be-
came less turbulent, and had no longer the same arena
for the display of its warlike propensities. Learning
then became an object of attention. ‘The nobility and
gentry began to send their sons to college, and the path
was open to their advancement in political and civil life.
Latimer, in one of his sermons, says, “‘the devil causeth
great men and esquires to send their sons to the univer-
sities, and put out poor scholars that should be divines.”
A great economical change was also taking place in the
various interests of the country, by which the yeomanry,
whose sons had formerly been sent to colleges and other
places of education, were placed in a state of temporary
suffering which precluded them putting their sons to
school. [Latimer remarked, as a consequence of this
state of things, that, ‘* Universities do wonderfully
decay already ;” and said, “I think there be at this
day 10,000 students less than were within these twenty
years.” Hence he exclaimed, “ Thus much I say unto
you, magistrates, if ye will not maintain schools and
universities ye shall have brutality.” The hopes which
had been entertained of rendering the property of the
than 13,000/., or more than one-third of the total value | religious houses available to some extent in promoting
OE ————————e ———“‘=&PePa+.eeEOE
1837.
learning, had apparently been disappointed; although,
in 1539, a bill was passed, in the preamble of which
an intention was expressed of converting it to other
purposes, that by this means there should be ‘“clerkes
norished in the unyversities,” ‘children brought upp
in lerning,” and that “reders of Grece, Ebrewe, and
Latten should have good stipend:” ‘The second ereat
cause which occasioned a demand for education was
the change which was taking place in the ecclesiastical
constitution of the country, which opened new sources
of inquiry, and spread abroad a desire for information.
The schools af which “ poor ‘scholars’ had been main-
tained in order to provide a succession of officers for
the church, were inadequate to the growing desire
which persons acquiring wealth in trade experienced
for the fit education of their children. In the reign of
E.dward VI. the clergy of Great Allhallows, St. Andrew,
Holborn, St. Peter, Cornhill, and St. Mary Colechurch,
addressed the parliament and the king requesting that
grammar-schools should be established in their respec-
tive parishes. « ‘Their petition was granted, and a few
years afterwards several schools of a similar description
were established in other parishes in London.’ These
schools were endowed by the bequests of liberal and
wealthy persons. Individuals who had become rich by
the pursuit of trade, and retired to that part of the
country from which they originally came, founded and
endowed schools there which were necessarily rendered
applicable to the class for whose advantage they were
intended. Gratnitous education thus became ‘“ popu-
larized,” and extended itself over the country. There
was not sufficient demand for education in remote parts
of the country to render it independent of eleemosynary
aid. In these schools the boys were to be taught “in
learning and good manners;” or, “in grammar and
other good learning ;” or ‘ freely and carefully taueht
and instructed ;” or, ‘* piously educated ;” or instructed
‘in religion aud other good literature.” It too often
happened that instruction in the classics was insisted
upon, especially in the schools first established. This
provision, which was of some value at the time, has
lono’ ceased to be advantageous; the children have
been driven from the school; and the master, being
without pupils, has enjoyed the benefits of the founda-
tion as a sinecure; or, in some cases, it has happened
that, as instruction in the classics was of no usc to the
class for whose advantage the school was established,
they have been forced out of the cstablishment, and
a superior class has been introduced. By the statutes
of St. Paul’s school, drawn up by Dean Colet, the
founder, in 1508, the boys were to be taught eood
literature, both Latin and Greek, “Sand good autors,
that wrote theire wisdom with clean and chaste Laten,
other in verse or in prose.” The disadvantages of this
rule are smaller in a large city than they would be in a
small town, where schools, founded on a similar plan,
have been left without scholars. Cranmer, who had
hoped to see grammar-schools founded in every shire
in England, lived but to see the commencement of the
work. A century or more had elapsed after his death
before they had become generally established.
But though much had becn done towards establish-
ing and endowing free-schools and grammar-schools,
yet they were chiefly for the benefit of the richer and
middle classes; and another impulse was requisite to
cause the establishment of schools of a more popular
character, aud adapted for the poor. This brings us
to the second epoch in the history of educational
exertions.
The straitness of manners which characterized the
period preceding and during the Commonwealth, was
followed by a reaction; and the Restoration was the
sional for unrestrained licence, which depraved the
general tone of morals, and evils naturally followed
THE PENNY MAGAZINE, 42]
which could not fail to arrest the attention of society.
Men confederated together for the purpose of ‘ Pro
moting the Reformation of Manners;’ societies were
established for this object, and the erand juries of
counties made presentments on the genera. prevaience
of vice and immorality, which rendered such exertions
necessary. ‘The general looseness of the times had
seriously affected the interests and happiness of the
poorer classes, and their condition became an object 9f
greater concern than it had heretofore been. Mr. Ned-
ham, in his ‘ Discourse concerning Schools and Sehod-
masters,’ published in 1663, remarked that ‘ it must
needs pity any Christian heart to see the little dirty
infantry which swarms up and down the alleys and
lanes, with curses and ribaldry in their mouths, and
other rude behaviour, as if they were intended to put
off their humanity and degenerate into brutes ;’ and he
added, ‘* The public have their part in this guilt and
neelect; little has been done, and that little, too, has
been so little looked after and observed.” He pro-
posed as a remedy for these evils that the children of
the poor should be tanght by the parish-clerks, under
the direction of the minister, who should catechise them
every week. He said, ‘‘ I should propose that there
should be no allowance for any one whatsoever to keep
a private school upon his own account, except the clerk
of the parish, whose office it should be (with an allow-
ance for it) to teach all the children of the parish.”
The Society for the Promotion of Christian Knowledge
originated in 1698, out of the interest which the moral
state of the poor excited. It began immediately to
apply itself to encourage “ the setting up of charity-
schools for the instruction of poor children in the know-
ledge and practice of the Christian religion, as pro-
fessed and taught in the Church of England.” It
adopted this course as a ‘‘ sure means of a general and
lasting’ reformation,” proceeding’ on the principle that
‘the growth of vice and immorality was greatly owing:
to gross ignorance of the principles of the Christian
religion.” In 1709 the St. Anne’s Society was esta-
blished in London, with the design of affording the
means of instruction, and clothing the children of every
class of poor and necessilous persons,
The first English charity-school, according to the
general acceptation of the term, was, as it has generally
been understood, opened in Westminster in 1698; but
the old charity school-house in Hatton-Garden, ovet
each of the doorways of which are effigies of two of the
children, bears the date of 1696. The same causes
which have since given rise to so many other schools, in
part contributed to the setting up of the charity school
in Westminster; for, in the previous year had been
established, also in Westminster, the ‘‘ Jesuits’ Charity
Grammar Schools.” ‘Two other charity schools in St.
Boltoph’s, Aldgate, and Norton Folgate, were esta-
blished about the same date. The Society for the Pro-
motion of Christian Knowledge, under whose siper-
intendence these schools were placed, issued an annual
report for several years after its establishment, in the
form of ‘A Letter from a Member of the Society for
Promoting Christian Knowledge in London to a Cor-
respondent in the Country.’ In the account given in
the * Letter’ for 1701, the writer states that “ about
2000 children are actually put to school, in and about
the cities of London and Westminster, and the greater
part of them clothed upon charity.” ‘The children were
frequently catechiscd publicly, as a means of exciting:
public interest and sympathy. In the above letter, it
is stated that ‘fa certain person unknown, being lately
present at the catechising the poor children in the parish
of Whitechapel, was very much affected therewith, and
immediately gave the sum of 1000/. to be laid out in
land, for the perpetual maintenance of a school for the
poor of that parish.” ‘To encourage each other in their
422
work, the patrons of the schools assembled the children
together, for the first time, in 1704, in St. Andrew’s,
Holborn, where a sermon was preached on the occasion.
The number of children present was 2000. ‘These
anniversaries were subsequently held at St. Bride’s,
in Fleet Street. In the‘ Spectator for Feb. 6, 171],
there is a paper containing reasons for supporting these
schools, in which the writer says, “I fell into this dis-
course from a letter sent to me to eive notice that fifty
boys would be clothed, and take. their seats, at the
charge of some generous benefactor, at St. Bride's
Church on Sunday next.” He remarks, that ‘ the
charity-schools which have been erected of late years
are the greatest instances of public spirit the world has
produced. ” Again, in the ‘ Spectator’ for July 14, 1712,
the writer says, “‘ I was last Sunday highly transported
at our parish church. The gentleman in the pulpit
pleaded movingly in behalf of the poor children, and
they for themselves much more forcibly by singing a
hynin.” The schools made rapid progress in public
favonr, though their design excited many popular pre-
judices.
In the Annual Report of the Christian Knowledge
Society for 1714, it is stated that ‘In the cities of
London and Westminster there are 117 charity-schools,
in which are taught above 3000 boys and more than
1700 girls, and inmost of the children are clothed. From
these schools there have been about 1650 boys and
upwards of 824 girls put ont apprentices. ‘lowards
ihe maintenance of these schools there is now above
50002. a year subscribed; besides which there has been
collected, upon this occasion, the last year, above
34001.” In Eneland, exclusive of London, there were
900 schools, at which several thousand children of both
sexes were instructed, many clothed, and some wholly
maintained. In 1716 the children of the different
schools held their anniversary for the first time at St.
Sepuiclire’s, instead of St. Bride’s, and assembled to
the number of 5000. ‘ After all,” it is stated, ‘* there
are more children in divers parishes than the mnecher
tuhabitants are able to educate, and much less able to
set to work.’ Many of the London clergy made the
most praiseworthy exertions m behalf of education.
Nionthly lectures were delivered in several parishes upon
week-days for the purpose of promoting the success
of the schools, after which collections were made. ‘The
exertions of the laity were not less zealous. The extent
to which this zeal proceeded may be inferred from Man-
deville’s * Essay on Charity and Charity Schools,’ pub-
lished in 1723, in which he speaks in a cynical spirit
of “ the enthusiastic passion for charity-schools,” and
asserts that ‘* whoever dares openly oppose them is in
danger of being stoned by the rabble.” This work of
the author of ‘ The Fable of the Bees’ was noticed in
the anniversary sermons for several successive years
after its pnblication. But the cause of the popularity
of the schools was in the real and visible improvement
which they produced upon those who frequented them.
In the auniversary sermon for 1738, preached by Dr.
Conybeare, dean of Christ Church, Oxford, he stated
that “ In a course of more than forty years, from the
first institution of these schools to the present time,
there have been scarce any (if any at all) who, having
gone through the discipline of these places, have been
afterwards convicted of any capital crime.”
In a Report of the National Society, from which
several of the above facts have been taken, it is stated
that at this early period ‘‘ the children were often
lodged and boarded, and always clothed. The expense
of the master’s salary, the room, firing, books, and
clothing for. fifty boys being calculated at 75l., or 602.
for the same number of girls,” The following annonnce-
ment of the terms at whieh both girls and “boys micht
be supplied with clothing “ at the Old Warehouse, next
MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF
[OcToggr 81,
the Cross Keys Inn, Wood-street, near Cheapside,” in
the year 1738, gives us some information respecting
the costume of the charity children.
The charge of clothing a boy with Yorkshire cloth
or blue kersey : —
s. d.
A boy’s suit. a ° 11 0
A. shirt of dowlass cloth or Russia ° 1 6
A pair of stockings. ° ‘ 0 9
A pair of wash-leather gloves ° 0 7
A knit cap, with tuft and string of any colour 0 9
A band . ° . . rr
A. pair of budiias " “ Z 0 1
A pair of shoes . ° : >: » 2 2
17 ad
The charge of clothing a girl :—
A gown and petticoat . ' ‘ 8s.or7 6
A shift of dowlass cloth or Russia . ° lala
A coif or band of fine Ghenting . ° 1 Q
A. white, blue, or checquered apron ° I a
A pair of leather boddice and stomacher em 6
A pair of woollen stockings . Z " 0 9
A pair of shoes . , ‘ ’ e 2 0
A pair of buckles ° , ° 0 I
A pair of wash-leather gloves . ° 0 7
16 11
There were two schools at this period in the parish
of St. Margaret, Westminster, at one of which the chil-
dren were clothed in blue and at the other in grey.
These schools still exist. At a school at Greenwich,
established in 1700, the children spun and made their
own clothes, both linen and woollen. ‘The nature of
the education received at these charity schools was of
the most simple kind—reading,, writing, and acconnts.
‘In the parish of St. Andrew's, Holborn, there was a
school for teaching navigation to thirty children (in-
creased to forty in 1740), who were elected ont of eight
other charity schools. In St. James's, Clerkenwell, was
a school for children of the age of five years, where
they were received until qualified for other schools. At
a school in Lambeth the boys were employed one-half
of the day in spinning yarn, and the girls in knitting
and sewing alternately. At the school of St. Martin’s-
in-the- Fields, one-third of the boys were employed
daily in labour, so that all worked two days a week in
rotation. Notwithstanding the simple education given
to the children of the charity schools, those who were
active in promoting the work were met by absurd ob-
jections. Many of the promoters of education conde-
scended to lower their notions to the level of their pre-
judiced assailants ; and some actually engaged in esta-
blishing schools held opinions very slightly differing
from those who opposed education altogether. Appre-
hension was entertained in some quarters that the mas-
ters of the schools, through a false affectation of letting
the benefactors see the great improvements the children
receive from their bounty, ‘‘ caused them to attain to
such a proficiency in working arithmetic, singing, and
displaying their memories in their public examinations,
as lifted their thoughts above the stations of life in
which Providence has placed them.”
The bishop of St. Asaph, in a sermon preached in
1741, fell into this timid advocacy of the work of educa-
tion; but in printing this sermon he added the follow-
ing note, which is curious and deserving of attention,
as showing that while the popular prejudices against the
education of the poorer classes have nearly died away,
the very suggestions made a century ago for its im-
provement are still ineffectually urged, or have only
been very partially adopted. The note is as follows :—
‘Several gentlemen of great knowledge in business,
true friends to these schools, and prudently desirous to
establish a suitable plan of edneation in them, have yet
been of opinion that if the children were taught, as they
might be at small expense, something of the art of
drawing, .it would prove beneficial in several respects.
1837.].)
For this they urge the great perfection to which silk
manufactures are now advanced in England, so as to
equal, if not exceed, a rival nation in that commodity,
except in the figure, and what is called the ‘ fancy of
a pattern, which this instruction might supply: that
in France the very poorest of the children are all taught
to draw; that the benefits of that branch of skill are
very great; for it not only multiplies persons capable
of drawing patterns, and thereby lessens the expense
to the manufacturer, but likewise greatly assists in the
performance of the work itself, as a workman who can
himself draw a pattern will finish with ereater truth
and greater dispatch any given pattern, whether drawn
by his own or by another hand. That not only in this
and similar branches of manufacture, but in several
other cases, drawing might he of ereat use, and in none
could it do any mischief. The carpenter, the smith,
the mason, and many other inferior laborious employ-
ments would be usefully improved by this piece of
knowledge. It might also be of ereat use in the moral
way, as a method of governing the children; this branch .
of learning being dispensed as a reward to the most
revular, diligent, and best-behaved boys, and would
certainly furnish to many of them an innocent and im-
proving exercise, very proper to engage some of those
vacant hours when they do not ‘attend school.” If
these recommendations had been acted upon a century
avo, the popular taste would have been much more
refined than it is at present; and it is indeed not easy
to estimate the effect which would have been produced
had it fortunately happened that instruction of the kind
here recommended had been added to the other advan-
tares possessed by English artisans. Nearly every-
thine on this point has yet to be commenced; and the
demand for some steps to be taken chiefly proceeds now
from the same motives as those which existed in 1740.
Another objection strongly urged against the charity
schools during the early part of the century was, that
they were rather “ nnrseries of sloth and idleness, than
the schools of diligence and labour.” In the anniver-
sary sermon for 1741, this point was grappled with,
and the Bishop of St. Asaph, who preached, said, “<The
children are destined to, and engaged in, the lowest
class of labour; the plough and the “spade are put Into
the hands of some; others are sent to sea; several are
engaged in laborious mechanical employments; and
many are placed in families as the meanest servants.”
The girls “are duly exercised in the lowest offices of
household service. By practice and habit they become
qualified for a low station.” In this manner was it
sought to tranquillize the jealousy of those who said
that “‘ the children are trained up so long at school in
an habitual disuse of labour, that their unaccustomed
hands will not easily submit afterwards to those servile
employments in which they are most wanted.” This
complaint was considered so reasonable at the time, that
the trustees of the schools took every means to reinedy
it. A plan was put forth for employing the children in
spinning, which was printed for several years as an
appendix to the Annual Reports of the schools. ‘The
spinning of coarse wool, flax, or hemp,” it was said,
“is a thing easily learnt, and the waste which will be
always made by beginners will not be much;” and a
liope was expressed ‘“‘that many good people wonld
send in coarse materials for the benefit of the schools.”
At a profit on each child’s labour of one half-penny per
day, it was assumed that a considerable sum would be
realized; but as remarked in the sermon for 1741,
‘labour itself is so material a part of education to
children, of this rank especially, that, were it attended
with some charge, it wonld be an improvement worth
purchase.” Many years before this period—in 1704—
De Foe, in his tract ‘Alms no Charity,’ had pointed out
the economical effect in an analogous case of setting up
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
423
factories in the workhouses. ‘‘ Suppose now,” he sayse
‘a workhouse for the employment of poor children sets
them to spinning of worsted. For every skein of
worsted these poor children spin, there must be a skein
the less spun by some poor person or family that spun
it before ;’”’ and yet, year after year, the most eminent
divines were recommending this interference with the
labour of the community. The Dean of Peterborough,
in the anniversary sermon for 1740, stated that “ “all
attempts that have been made to introduce manufac-
tures have met with encouragement ;” and added that
“it cannot be doubted, but as soon as proper mate-
rials can be provided, instruction and labour will go
hand in hand in all these schools.” A year or two
afterwards it was at length discovered that the project
could not be successful, and that it was inexpedient.
The ‘‘ danger of interfering with the present industrious
poor, who would become a burden,” was clearly pointed
out. In 1742, Dr. Secker completely extinguished the
notion of employing the children in manufactures with
a view to profit by their labour.
The party from whom the complaint proceeded of
the children not being brought up in habits of labour,
and to satisfy whom the attempt to introduce mann-
facturing processes was made, raised another outcry
against the schools, which exhibits not a little incon
sistency. ‘They asserted that so many children were
put to trades, who had heretofore been brought up in
other capacities, that there was great difficulty in ob-
taining good servants, and a scarcity of labourers in
husbandry. To counteract opposition from this source,
the clergy in the country were directed to encourage
the children being put to agricultural employments ;
and in 1738 the trustees of the charity schools in the
parish of St. Andrew’s, Holborn, issued an address ‘ to
all farmers, gardeners, and other occupiers of land in
England,” in which they allude to the alleged “ creat
want of hands in divers parts of the kingdom for tilling
the ground and performing other parts of husbandry ;”
and state that, “‘ being heartily disposed to do all in
their power to reuder their charity children useful to
the public, they will bind boys apprentices for seven
years to learn the art of husbandry, and girls for five
years to do household work.” This clamour, like many
others against education, was at length put down by the
good sense and perseverance of the supporters of the
schools.
In 1782 the children educated in the schools of the
metropolis assembled for the first time In St. Pauls, on
their anniversary meeting; a practise which has been
followed ever since. The sermon was preached by Dr.
Porteus, Bishop of London. ‘The circumstances of
this anniversary meeting are thus noticed by the ltev.
R. Hodgson, who wrote a life, and edited the works, of
Bishop Porteus, in a note to the sermon delivered ou
this occasion :—‘ The trustees of the charity-schols
obtained permission this year for the first time to range
the children (amounting to near 5000) ina kind of
temporary amphitheatre under the dome of St. Paul's,
where the service was performed and the sermon
preached, the congreeation occupying the area. The
effect of so large a “number of children, disposed in that
form, and uniting with one voice in the responses, and
in the psalm-singing, was wonderfuly pleasing and
affecting.’ In his sermon the Bishop said, ‘* You here
see near 5000 children collected together from the
charity-schools in and abont London and Westminster.
A spectacle this which is not to be paralleled } in any other
country in the world; which it is impossible for any
man to contemplate without emotions of tenderness and
delight ;” and he added, that ‘the number of children
in nee place bears but a small proportion to the whole
nuinber in the schools of Great Britain and Ireland,
which exceeds 40,000.” This year’s anniversary appears
A24
to have excited great interest; and it was commemo-
rated in the following simple lines by Blake, an eccentric
but powerful artist, ‘who published them in a curious
little volume, entitled ‘ Songs of Innocence :’—
«°*Twas on a Holy Thursday, their innocent faces clean,
The children walking two and two, in red and blue and green.
Grey-headed beadles walk’d before with wands as white as snow,
Till into the high dome of Paul’s they hke Thames’ waters flow.
“O, what a multitude they seem’d, these flowers of London town,
Seated in companies they sit, with radiance all their own ;
The hum of multitudes was there, but multitudes of lambs,
Thousands of little boys and girls raising their mnocent hands.
“ Now like a mighty wind they ratse to heaven the voice of song,
Or like harmonious thunderings the seats of heaven among ;
Beneath them sit the aged men, wise guardians of the poor;
Then cherish pity lest you drive an angel from your door.”
But a period was coming when charity-schools were
found to be inadequate to the wants of an increasing
population. This inadequacy led Mr. Raikes, of Glou-
cester, in 1781 or 1782 to give religious instruction
to children,on Sundays, before gene to church. In
1785 a Society was established in Lundon “ for the sup-
port and encouragement of Sunday Schools through-
out the British dominions.” Dr. Porteus, in a charge
to his Clergy in the following year alluded to the in-
sulficieucy of charity-schools. ‘* he expense of found-
ing them,” he says, ‘‘ necessarily prevents their be-
coming miuversal. In many towns, and by far the
wreatest number of villages, there are no charity-schools
at all. In London, where they are generally esta-
blished, they can take in only a very small part of the
children of the poor; the rest are left without educa-
tion. Charity schools, therefore, are partial and local
reinedies; they operate only within a narrow circle;
Sunday schools are therefore a proper appendage to
them.” In 1803 the Sunday School Union was esta-
MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT.
[Ocroser 31, 1837.
who are Sunday school teachers to greater exertions,
to enlarge existing and establish new schools, and to
supply books, &c. Other steps were soon made to
render education more universal; and the work of in-
struction no longer proceeded to so great an extent
under the auspices of the Church of England. In 1789
the Rev. Dr. Andrew Bell applied his plan of instrnc-
tion at Madras ; and in 1797 an account of it was pub-
lished in England. In 1798 a school on the Madras
system was established at St. Botolph’s, Aldgate. This
system was zealously advocated and adopted by Mr.
Joseph Lancaster, a Quaker. In 1808 the “ British
and Foreign School Society,” designed to promote the
education of the working classes of every denomination,
was established. Its object is ‘* to uphold the principle
of liberty of conscience and the utter abolition of rell-
gious tests in connexion with common day-school edu-
cation.” In 1811, three years afterwards, the National
Society was established “ for promoting the education
of the poor in the principles of the Established Church.”
Its object is to promote the establishment of schools of
three kinds: namely, schools for infants under six or
seven years of age; Sunday and daily schools, for chul-
dren from six or seven to about thirteen; and Sunday
schools, chiefly for those who are engaged in labour
during the week. The schools of the British and
Foreign and National Societies are now the chief means
of dispensing popular instruction in this country. They
are conducted on the system of mutual instruction, as
practised by Dr. Bell and Mr. Lancaster. ‘The honour
of originating infant schools in this conntry belongs to
Mr. Owen, who established them at New Lanark,
where, in 1816, they were in full operation.
Our limits will not allow the extension of this rapid
sketch of the progress of educational charity ; but we
shall resume the subject in further notices of what is
blished with a view to stimulate and encourage those; now doing and of what remains to be done.
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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 & CO., 23, LUDGATE STREBT,,
Printed by Witu1am_Cxiowszs and Sons, Stamferd Street,
THE PENNY MAGAZINE
OF THE ;
Society for the Diffusion: of Useful Knowledge.
09.
PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY.
{NovemBer 4, 1837.
SKETCHES OF THE PENINSULA.—No. XII,
Tue Douro.
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Tue subject of our vignette is the castle of St. John,
on the north bank of the river Douro, protecting the
entrance to that river; sufficiently difficult from the
enormous bar, or sand-bank, which almost reaches from
side to side. Its position is sufficiently described by its
name, St. Joad da Foz, meaning literally, St. John at
the mouth of the river: it isa modern fortification of
irrecular figure, and stands on an angle of the beach, at
once facing the sea and the river, as a protection against
a naval attack on the city of Oporto, which stands at
some distance higher up the river. St. Joao da Foz is
a post of much importance, but the opposite banks of
the river being so much more elevated, completely
command it. ‘The view eiven above is fron ~ Je Cabo
Dello, a sand-bank which runs out from thi; epposite
bank a good way into the river, and represents the
state of the building immediately after the last memor-
able sieze by Dom Micuel during the late civil war.
From the fortress we naturally turn to the river which
it protects. Rio Douro, literally interpreted, is the
Golden River, and was probably so named at first from
the great quantities of gold, both in dust and grains,
found amongst its sands. The Douro is not the only
river in the Peninsula whose waters flowed over golden
sands; the Tacwus, the Agueda in Spain, and several
others, produced sufficient metal to afford a consider-
able trade. ‘The sources, however, from whence these
precious particles flowed have become exhausted; and
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though gold is occasionally found, even now, mingled
with the sand, the occurrence is by far too rare to offer
any inducement to the cupidity of the natives. We
need not be surprised that the waters of many of the
rivers in the Peninsula should have washed down from
the mountains particles of a metal of which at one time
there was such an abundance. The enormous quan-
tity of the precious metals carried from Spain and Por-
tugal during the Carthaginian and Roman occupation
might well have drained the country, and indeed would
lead us to doubt the truth of the statements handed
down to us, did not the vast mines worked by those
singular people attest their veracity. But the Douro
may now be called the golden river from another cause.
Oporto, or the Port, from whence all the fine wines of
this part of the country are shipped, is situated on its
banks; and the wealth which flows into the country
from this source is sufficient to warrant the appellation.
The superiority of the wines of this part of Portugal
over those of the south is too great to require any com-
ment, and the rich vines grown in the neighbourhood
of the river make the favourite Port wine so much used
in Britain.
During the wine season, the Douro may be seen
crowded with the wine-boats, whose disproportioned
sails have a singular effect as they sweep down the
rapidly-flowing stream towards Oporto, their place of
From the rapidity of the current, the
31
426
voyage downward is performed in a few days; as the
rush ‘of waters, from the hieh lands over which it passes,
carries them forward with a velocity nearly equal to
our railroads, particularly when aided by the wind.
The return, however, is the work of some weeks; for
the saine cause which accelerates the voyage one way
retards it the other. The beauty of the scenery 1s
unrivalled ;—few rivers possess so many varied sources
of delight to the lover of the sublime and beautiful in
nature as the Douro. ‘Though its deep, dark waters
are occasionally confined within over-arching precipices,
the rich tinting of the hardy vine may be seen mingling
with the ruee edness of the rocks ,—every cleft or ledge
covered with verdure, and the terrible or sombre re-
lieved by the beauty of the wild herbs and flowers which
strugole for existence amongst the high masses ;—and
when it flows through the cultivated valleys, though its
rapidity is abated, its beauties are fully equal. It is
now the mountain-torrent,—now the broad river,—now
the rushing cataract,—and, again, the smooth though
rapid stream; yet still, in all its characters, the source
of wealth to all the districts through which it passes.
The Douro rises in the province of Soria in Spain, in
a chain of mountains near the village of Almarza, in
the kingdom of Old Castile; the city of Soria, the capi-
tal of the province, is watered by it; Valladolid, ‘Toro,
and Zamora, are also on its banks. A few leagues
from the last-mentioned place, it changes its course
from a westerly to a southern one; and from the village
of Miranda becomes a boundary between Spain and
Portugal, for the distance of sixty miles. When above
Sobradilla, it resumes its westerly course, and falls into
the sea at Oporto: the lightness of the soil and the
extreme velocity of this river have created an immense
bar at its mouth; and the opposition of the current of
the ocean, which is also very strong, causes a surf of
SO dangerous a character as frequently to delay ships
from entering the harbour for five or six weeks to-
ether. Hor any species of navigation except that of
the wine boats from the interior, the Douro is of no use
beyond the city of Oporto.
Several attempts have been made at improving the
navigation of the Douro, but all have been rendered
vain by the apathy of the government. The Tagus
might also be munch improved, and a great source of
national wealth opened by a free communication with
the interior. A scheme was set on foot some short
time since to establish a steam-navigation company on
the ‘Tagus: the government saw the immense advan-
tages likely to result from such a company, and highly
approved of the plans proposed, but absolutely refused
to incorporate the company unless they excluded all
foreigners. ‘Thus British capital and industry were
excluded; the natives had neither money nor perse-
verance sufficient to encounter so arduous an under-
taking, and a great national benefit was lost. ‘Thus
it was with the Douro, and so it is with everything
connected with the national improvement.
THE APPLE-PARING.
[From a Correspondent.]
Unosrentatious and humble as this term may appear,
‘“‘the apple-paring” is looked forward to by the in-
habitants of the northern and middle states of the
Federal Union with as mnch anticipated pleasure as
the harvest-home used to be by the rural population of
several districts of our own island:—TI say ‘used to
be,” because this is one of the many good old English
customs which are fast falling into disuse amongst
ourselves. Apple-paring is probably derived from an
old German custom, and therefore not so exclusively
American as many have supposed it; but since the
sedate and calculating sons and danghters of brother ;
THE PENNY
MAGAZINE. [ NoveMBER 4,
Jonathan seldom enter with much spirit upon anythih
mirthful or merry-making, and as I conceive that the
mode of preserving apples here described might be
advantageously introduced into some of our own apple
districts, it may not be uninteresting to state the way
in which it is managed.
Though the apple-paring is resorted to as a “frolic,”
or an amusement, amone'st the Americans, yet it is the
means of getting a valuable piece of work performed
at the same time that it passes for a recreation. These
frolics for the most part take place in the early part of
the autumn; for in order to ensure complete success,
the rays of the sun should still possess considerable
power. It is a general remark that the Americans are
peculiarly fond of preserves and sweetmeats of every
description ; and it is a fact, that hardly a single meal
passes without its accompaniment of “pies,” “ sweet~
sauce,’ and ‘‘ preserves.” Now in every part of those
states before alluded to there is a great abundance of
apples; hence the ingenuity of the people is laudably
exerted in rendering them, as much as possible, subser-
vient to the general purposes of housekeeping. In all
the forms they may be made to assume, the apples
have first to be “pared” before they are subjected to
the necessary process, so that apple-paring becomes a
matter of some consideration. Among the several pre-
parations are included preserved apples, apple-biiter,
apple-sauce, and dried apples; the last of which being
quite an article of trade amongst the Americans, it is
principally for the preparation of dried apples that “‘ the
apple-parings ”’ are held.
Although America produces an abundance of excel-
lent apples, yet, owing to the great extremes of heat
and cold, it has been found impossible to secure a
supply adequate to the general demand throughout the
season by any means that the horticulturist has yet dis-
covered. Ina great measure this has been remedied by
adopting the plan of “drying” the apples; and as it is
pursued upon an extensive scale, ‘‘the apple-paring ”
has hence become a matter of considerable importance.
There are two methods of drying apples practised by
the country people. In one case they are pared and
cut into pieces (the cores being extracted) of half or
three-fourths of an inch in thickness, and then spread
upon a platform, or temporary scaffolding of boards, to
dry in the sun. The scaffolding is erected a little
sloping—with a southern aspect,—on which the cut
apples are spread to the depth of three or four inches,
where they are kept for several days, undergoing the
necessary turnings and movings in order that every
part may be exposed to the sun’s influence. Should
the weather be fine and settled, they remain upon the
scaffolds during the night, their only protection being
clean linen cloths thrown over them; but if there be a
prospect of rain, then they have to be removed to some
place of shelter. During the operation of drying the
bulk of the mass greatly diminishes; so that in the
various processes of pariug’, coring, and drying, seven
or eight bushels become reduced to about one. When
the apples have remained upon the platform until they
are sufficiently dry, they are then removed to an upper
room, and piled up in one of its angles; and if the
drying process has been thoroughly accomplished, they
will continue sound and good for a couple of years.
The other mode of drying apples is certainly more
general than that already described, but by no means
practised on so extensive a scale. The apples are pre-
pared in precisely the same manner as before described ;
after which they are strung upon stout thread, and
hung up in the kitchen (where large wood fires are
kept) to dry. In the kitchens, during the months of
October, November, and December, the ceilings may
be seen decorated with strings of apples, intersecting
each other in every possible direction. When the pieces
1837.]
are first strung upon the thread they are placed close
to each other, but as the drying proceeds, they shrink
asunder, and assume a shrivelled appearance. Apples
dried in this way are not quite so pure as the sun-dried
ones, but they answer pretty well for family use. ‘The
less delicate sorts of peaches are dried in precisely the
same way, but not upon so general or extensive @ scale.
It is during the following spring and summer, when
apples in their natural state becoine scarce, that the
dried ones are much sought after; and although they
are generally considered rather inferior to sound fresh
apples, yet, for pies and puddings, they are an excel-
lent substitute, after having undergone a good wash-
ing and soaking.
It is in preparing for the commencement of this
system of drying that “‘ The Apple Paring” takes place ;
when all the neighbours have been duly ‘‘ notified,” it
is expected they will attend at the time appointed. It
is what the Americans call an “ after-supper frolic; ”
but then it should be borne in mind that that repast
usually takes place at five or six o’clock in the after-
noon. Probably before seven o'clock the ‘‘ parers ”
will have assembled, and without further ceremony they
form themselves into small parties, each party sur-
rounding a large basket for the reception of the “‘ cut-
tings ;”” while the owner of the establishment takes care
to supply his assistant labourers with plenty of the raw
material. While fingers and knives are busily employed,
the evening is occasionally enlivened with songs and
cider, and not unfrequently with something of a more po-
tent and exciting character. Although, as has been pre-
viously remarked, they are after-supper frolics, yet five
or six hours of diligent apple-paring restores lost appe-
lites ; so that about midnight, tea and coffee, with their
manifold accompaniments of Johnny-cakes, buck-wheat
cakes, dough-nuts, Yankee biscuit, pumpkin-pie, apple-
sauce, &c. &c., are spread out in their usual profusion
for the use aud benefit of the whole party. After the
parers have been replenished with this second supper,
many of the younger people brandish their knives anew ;
while the more sedate portion of the performers betake
themselves off to their respective homes.
Notwithstanding there commonly is a great deal of
fun and frolicking during the process of apple-paring,
yet in a single night a large quantity of apples is pre-
pared for the drying process;—that being left, as a
matter of course, to the management of the owners.
Thus it is that in this communionship of labour a great
deal is performed that would otherwise be irksome to
those engaged in it, or else altogether neglected. On
the first or second night succeeding one of those meet-
ings, the same party will be found similarly engaged at
the house of some other neighbour; and in this way
the business proceeds until ‘all those who feel disposed
to patronize “‘ apple-parings” have each of them had a
benefit at his own residence.
A few years ago, two brothers—very respectably con-
nected, but eccentric young Irishmen—purchased a
farm in the vicinity where I resided, and commenced
keeping ‘bachelor’s hall” in a log cabin which the
late Yankee owner had occupied. As there was a
pretty good orchard upon the premises, they had far
more apples than‘they knew what to do with,—for they
were eltire strangers to the customs of the country.
However, in the autumn, which was but two or three
months subsequent to their entering upon their new
possession, they collected thirty or forty bushels of the’
best of their apples, and stowed them away without any
definite view as to the uses to which they might be ap-
plied. It seemed that their neighbours had been aware
of the storing away the apples, and not altogether un-
mindful of the young men’s welfare. After the close
of a dull autumnal day, while the brothers were quietly
seated by a blazing fire that lit up their lonely habita-
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
AQT
tion, they were somewhat startled by a gentle “ tap-
pug” at their door; on the opening of which, two
strapping daughters of a Yankee settler, at some dis-
tance, stepped forward, rather unceremouionsly, and
‘“‘“ouessed they had come to pare apples.” The young
men were taken by surprise; but possessing the eal-
lantry so natural to well-bred Irishmen, invited the
ladies to be seated, which invitation was unhesitatingely
complied with. Presently, another and another “ tap-
ping” announced more strangers,—and the arrival of
three or fonr small parties in quick succession com-
pletely bewildered the two bachelors; and what bothered
them not a little was the difficulty of making three old
chairs, and a short rude form, (the whole of the seats
their establishment afforded,) accommodate so large a
party. ‘The visiters were all young: persons, and mostly
females; and although appearances were certainly
against them, inasmuch as the visit was unsolicited,
and a nocturnal one withal,—a sliort explanation served,
in a great measure, to silence suspicion. ‘They informed
the ‘‘ young Irishers,” that in consequence of their
being strangers to the customs of the country, that
they (the visiters) had arranged among theinselves to
give them the benefit of an apple-paring; and having
learned that they (the bachelors) had housed a quantity
of apples, an arrangement had been made by the young
people of the neighbourhood to meet that evening for
the purpose of apple-paring. The young Irishmen
duly acknowledged their obligations to those neigh-
bours who seeined so much interested in their behalf ;
but as they were wholly ignorant of the method of dry-
ing apples, they would trouble neither their neiehbours
nor themselves by entering upon the process. ‘This
piece of mformation seemed far from being satisfac-
tory; but as seats were scarce, and as there appeared
no prospect of a “frolic” at the expense of the
‘“ young Irishers,” the parties were obliged to trudge
homewards, consoling themselves under their present
chagrin and disappointment with the prospect of meet-
ing again on the followmy night at a “ regular Yankee
apple-paring,” to attend which they had all been duly
‘© notified.”
Christianity.—I will make one remark on this religion,
which strikes my own mind very forcibly. Since its intro-
duction, human nature has made great progress, and society
experienced great changes; and, in this advanced condition
of the world, Christianity, instead of losing its application
and importance, Is found to be more and more congenial and
adapted to man’s nature and wants. Men have outgrown
the other institutions of that period when Christianity ap-
peared ;—its philosophy, its modes of warfare, its policy, its
public and private economy: but Christianity has never
shrunk as intellect has opened; but has always kept in
advance of men’s faculties, and unfolded nobler views in
proportion as they have ascended. The highest powers and
affections which our nature has developed, find more than
adequate objects in this religion. Christianity is indeed pe-
culiarly fitted to the more improved stages of society, to the
more delicate sensibilities of refined minds, and especially to
that dissatisfaction with the present state which always grows
with the growth of our moral powers and affections. As men
advance in civilization, they become susceptible of mental
sufferings, to which ruder ages are strangers; and, these
Christianity is fitted to assuage. Imagination and intellect
become more restless; and Christianity brings them tran-
quillity by the eternal and magnificent truths, the solemn
and unbounded prospects, which it unfolds. This fitness
of our religion to more advanced stages of society than
that in which it was introduced, to wants of human nature
not then developed, seems to me very striking. The re-
ligion bears the marks of having come from a Being who
perfectly understood the human mind, and had power to
provide for its progress. This feature of Christianity is of
the nature of prophecy. It was an anticipation of future,
and distant ages ; and when we consider among whom our
religion sprung, where, but in God, can we find an ex-
planation of this peculiarity ?—Rev. Dr. Channing.
31 2
428
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
[November 4,
JOHN KYRLE, THE “MAN OF ROSS.”
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[Portrait of the “ Man of Ross.’—From a Print.]
‘* But all our praises why should lords engross ?
Rise, honest muse! and sing the Man or Ross:
Pleased Vaga echoes throngh her winding bounds,
And rapid Severn hoarse applause resounds.
Who hung with woods yon mountain’s sultry brow ?
From the dry rock, who bade the waters flow ?
Not to the skies in useless columns tost,
Or in proud falls magnificently lost,
But clear and artless, pouring through the plain
Health to the sick, and solace to the swain.
Whose causeway parts the vale with shady rows ?
Whose seats the weary traveller repose ?
Who taught that heaven-directed spire to rise ?
‘The Man or Ross? each lisping babe replies.
Behold the market-place, with poor o’erspread !
The Man of Ross divides the weekly bread ;
He feeds yon almshouse, neat, but void of state,
Where age and want sit smiling at the gate ;
Him portion’d maids, apprenticed orphans blest,
The young who labour, and the old who rest.
Is any sick? the Man of Ross relieves,
Prescribes, attends, the medicine makes, and gives,
Is there a variance ? enter but his door,
Balk’d are the courts, and contest 1s no more.
Despairing quacks with curses fled the place,
And vile attorneys, now an useless race.
Thrice happy man! enabled to pursue,
What all so wish, but want the power to do!
Oh, say, what sums that gen’rous hand supply ?
What mines, to swell that boundless charity ?
OF debts and taxes, wife and children clear,
This man possess’d—five hundred pounds a year !”—
Porr’s Moral Essays.
Tue ‘* Man of Ross” has been already introduced to
the readers of the ‘Penny Magazine’ in the descriptive
tour of the Wye, vol. iv. p. 339. ‘The reader will there
see how affectionately the memory of this worthy man
is still cherished in the little town of Ross and its neigh-
bourhood, though more than a century has elapsed since
he was laid in his grave. We have no particulars re-
specting him worthy the name of biography. Pope's
well-known lines, given above, embody, with almost
literal exactness, the chief features of his character. ‘The
only exception that may be taken is to the concluding
lines, where it is more insinuated than asserted that he
accomplished all the good he did out of his own “ five
hundred pounds a year.” Jt appears more than pro-
bable, that after he had established his character as an
active-minded, spirited, and benevolent man, his richer
neighbours aided him with occasional subscriptions or
supplies of money to carry on some of his projects of
improvement.
John Kyrle was a country gentleman of limited in-
come, who lived during the latter part of the seventeenth
and first part of the eighteenth centuries at Ross, in
Herefordshire. When he was born does not seem to
have been distinctly noted; at all events he was a
young man in 1654, in which year he entered the Uni-
versity of Oxford. Nothing can be more general than
what is farther recorded of him; his lone life was not,
probably, much diversified by what we are accustomed
to regard as remarkable incidents; still, had he lived
in our day, lus ‘ Life’ might have been turned into a
respectably-sized volume. It is not at all likely, from
what we do know of him, that he either was or, under
other circumstances, would have been, an extraordinary
man. But herein consisted a prime element of his
character and a chief cause of his success in doing
1837,]
good: he knew his sphere, kept within it, exerting
hiniself at the same tine with untiring perseverance
within 1; and was thus one of the few who are
é§ enabled to pursue
What all so wish, but want the power to do.”
These lines of Pope, like not a few in his ‘ Moral
Essays, are full of meaning. The most worthless
have, at times, moments in which they wish to rise out
of the slongh of their passions, and be beneficially em-
ployed; and many of the best lose opportunities of
effecting much, by neglecting the common materials
within their reach and aspiring to what is beyond
them.
We have a modern counterpart to Kyrle (though the
character was developed in a far higher degree) in
Oberlin, the pastor of Waldbach, in the Ban de la
Roche. Oberlin effected far more with roneher mate-
rials, in a shorter time, than Kyrle. MKyrle, however,
in his capacity of a plain, country e@entleman, is an
example well worthy of consideration.
What Kyrle did, then, may be summed up in a brief
commentary on Pope’s lines; for Pope, having been in
the habit of visiting a family residing in Ross, was well
acquainted with Kyrle’s character. He found a sur-
rounding country bare of trees, and by his example,
encouragement, and money, procured it to be orna-
mentally planted; he caused a conduit or reservoir to
be constructed in Ross, which was exceedingly useful
to the inhabitants, until superseded by the laying down
of pipes for the conveyance of water to the houses; he
procured, at a time, and in a country, where roads were
rough and dangerous, a handsome causeway to be con-
structed, with trees on each side, and seats for the
accominodation of the traveller; weekly he distributed
a certain amount of food to the poor; was in the habit
of bestowing marriage gifts on industrious couples,
and of apprenticinge orphans; kept a medicine-chest,
and prescribed for the sick; was a general peace-maker,
aud, from his character, was resorted to as an arbitrator
of differences ; and though of so devotional a spirit as to
be, not only a weekly, but a daily, attendant at church,
he was the reverse of being an ascetic: cheerful, though
erave, he loved to see his neighbours dropping in upon
him of an evening, after the labours of the day were
over, to enjoy a friendly chat and a tankard of ale;
then his spirit sympathised with all, heartily enjoying
an imnocent joke and a loud laugh. Nor mnst we
forget that he was a warm promoter of education, sub-
scribing annually to defray the expenses of a school,
and inducing others to do the same.
What the foibles of the worthy man may have been
we are not informed; and it would be but a paltry em-
ployment to rake them up, if we could. We may easily
eather that there were no sharp points in his character:
his perseverance was of that quiet effective kind which
accomplishes its purposes without bustle or noise; and
that his temper was mild and placid is evident from his
character as a peace-maker, and the love and veneration
in which he was held. ‘The chief thing to be regarded
in him is, the disinterested economy which enabled him
to do much with little. To do exactly as he did would
be folly. ‘Thus, for instance, it is safer, and, in the long
run, more economical in the present day, to employ a
parish surgeon, regularly educated, than for a person
with a half-kind of medical knowledge to keep a medi-
cine chest. And the practice of openly distributing
food to the poor on set days, however ratifying to one’s
feelings, and comparatively a safe and laudable practice
in asimple state of society, where the poor, and tlieir
wants, are well known, would be more or less a dangerous
and doubtful practice, now-a-days, when our whole po-
pulation is becoming so mixed up, tliat it is very hard to
distinguish who are proper objects of charity, and who
are “ rorues and vagabonds.” ‘The best charity is to
2s ¢& «
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
429
give the means, to all who are able to work, of earning
their own bread.
Kyrle, who, as Pope intimates, was a bachelor, died
at an advanced age,in 1724. He, as Oberlin was in
our day, was followed to the grave by sorrowing friends,
neighbours, and dependents; who, though they knew
that the fruit was gathered because it was ripe, still
mourned over the loss of a father aud a friend. To
this day the people of Ross preserve memorials of him;
his pew in the church remains, preserved the saine
throughout the alterations the interior of the church
has undergone ; two elm trees erow inside the church,
shading the pew with their foliage, as if Nature herself
wished that literally his memory should be always green ;
the house that he built himself and inhabited still stands;
and in the club-room of au inn in Ross they preserve
his arm-chair,
A MONTH AT SEA.
(Concluded from No, 357.)
Tunis morning the weather is not favourable. The
wind has been round to every point of the compass
during the night, and is now blowing from the north-
east, “‘right a-head.”” I do not feel very impatient at
present. Miss Saunders is rather glad of the delay.
She dreads landing among. strangers, though she
knows they are already friends.
Mrs. Ely has been very bold this morning with Mrs.
O’Brien (as the lady had no buttered roll by her) about
the fees to the stewardess. The stewardess depends
solely upon the fees paid by the lady passengers; and
the service is so important, and so extremely fatiguing,
that 1t onght to be well paid. ‘The stewardess has to
attend upou the ladies, night aud day, in their sea-
sickness ; to keep their state-rooms; to wait at meals in
the large cabin; to be up before all the ladies, and
go to rest after them. Among such a coinpany of
ladies, there are usually some who rise early, and always
some who go to rest very late; and commonly a few
who cannot be easily pleased, aud who keep their
attendant on the foot at all hours, without any considera-
tion. When all this is considered, and it is remem-
bered how helpless and uncomfortable the ladies would
be without such a servant, it is clear that the stewardess
should be handsomely paid. The captain interested us
particularly for Margaret, by telling us that she was
extremely poor, as she sent every shilling she could
spare from ler absolute wants to her old father aud
mother in Scotland. Judging by what we knew to
have been done in similar cases, we agreed that Mar-
oaret should have a sovereign from each of us. Miss
Juamine, and Miss Taylor, and the ladies of our party
paid this; bnt Mrs. O’Brien declared she would pay
nothing, as Margaret had shown her no attention at
all! It will be too bad if, in addition to the many
crying fits this woman has occasioned to the poor girl,
and all the toil she and her daughters have imposed
upon her, night and day, she defrauds her of the money
she has fairly earned. Mrs. O'Brien became so “ hys-
terical” that Mrs. Ely had to desist for this time; but
she does not mean to let the matter stop here. As for
Mrs. Happen, she not only refused to give anything,
but, in her passion at being asked, sent the plate down
the whole length of the table. ‘There is something
really terrifying in snch tempers, Mrs, Ely changed
colonr as if she had been in the wrong, instead of the
right. Mr. Browning says there are occasions on which
people show their real selves,—in the treatment of their
servants. I own that I was as much snrprised as I
was indignant, to find that people of good preperty, as
these ladies both are, could stoop to accept the hard
service of a very poor girl, with the knowledge all the
time that they meant to defraud her of her wages.
430
They might at least have given her warning, that she
might know that she was conferring charity upon them
in serving them. I trust they will think better of the
matter, and repair their injustice to her at last.
We are now between Cork and Milford Haven, out
of sight of land.
25th. Now, did you not expect that the next entry
would be of our arrival? Far from it. There is much
to be said first. I was obliged to quit my writing, last
time, by the rolling of the ship; and for the rest of the
day, we were treated with a gale, far more stormy than
any we had had during the voyage. It blew tremen-
dously from the north-east. With the tide in our
favour, and every sail snug, we were driven in the
direction of the Devonshire coast; and thankful we
were that we had plenty of sea-room. Mrs. Ely and
others were as sick as ever; and at dinner there was
the well-remembered scene of every thing solid slip-
ping about the dishes, and every thing liquid being
spilled: though the frames were on,—the wooden
frames, made to fit the tables, with holes for bottles and
glasses. It was a truly uncomfortable day, though
there was nothing to occasion fear in any but the most
timid persons.
Yesterday morning we had the alternative of being
sick below, or half-sick and half-frozen on deck. We
preferred the latter, and were ere long repaid. We were
going over the ground lost the day before, standing in
for the Imsh coast. There were large flocks of Nep-
tune’s sheep (waves breaking into foam); and the sky
was so clear, that Mr. Browning, with his malicious eye-
olass, could not discern a streak of English foe all day.
About noon, the outline of the Dungarvon Mountains
appeared, and the bay of Tramore, with three white
towers at one extremity, and one at the other, and the
town of Tramore at the bottom of the bay. We saw,
too, the high lighthouse at the extremity of Waterford
Bay, and a steam-boat in the entrance. Seven other
sail were about us, and we felt in the midst of society
once more. Before we tacked we came near enough
to see the recesses in the sharp-cut rocks or cliffs on the
shore, and the green downs sloping up from their sum-
mits. With the glass I could distineuish the windows
of three large houses in Tramore. The outline of the
mountains behind was very fine, and the lights and
shadows on them delicious to behold. We tacked all
day, and amused ourselves with watching the points of
the shore, advancing and receding; with speaking the
ship “ Georgia of Boston,” bound to New York, which
we hope will report us to you; and with admiring the
clear setting sun, and the rising moon, almost at the
full. She never looked finer since she was first set
spinning,
‘There was some sad nonsense among’ us, even on
this important and pleasurable day. Mrs. O’Brien
looked cold, as she sat on the rail, in the breeze, and
Mr. Simpson caused his warm broad-cloth cloak to be
brought for her. Mrs. Happen, who was sitting on
deck, sheltered and in the sun, growled out, “ You
lever offered me your cloak.” Immediately after
dinner, when the gentlemen were at their wine, she
sent Sally down for Mr. Simpson’s cloak, and wore it
all the afternoon.
The captain promised us the quietest night we had
had since we left New York; and I accordinely went
to sleep, nothing doubting, though the last thing I was
aware of was that there was a prodigious tramping
upon deck, which I concluded was from the crew
shifting the sails. I slept till daylight, and thus missed
a scene, partly dreadful, partly ridiculous. This tramp-
ing excited the attention of the ladies; and Mrs. Ely
next heard a cry of distress from the deck, and then
another, a sort of scream.
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
The gentlemen rushed from | sideration.
[NovemsBer 4,
said it was fire, the ship sinking, running fonl of ano-
ther ship, and much besides. Miss ‘Taylor (still very
delicate) heard every voice calling ‘‘ Captain! Cap-
tain!” and naturally supposing that something had
happened to her brother, fainted away in her berth,
where she was found some time after still insensible.
One gentleman brought out his pistols, and Mrs. Happen
entreated that she might not be shot. Mrs. Ely and
Miss Saunders remained in their rooms, and were pre-
sently told that there was no danger, that it was all
over. The captain put forth his authority, and ordered
every body to bed. How much the passengers really
knew of the cause of this bustle I cannot say; but the
affair was this. The captain hasabadcrew. Yesterday,
at the instigation;of a mischievous fellow among them,
there was a sort of mutiny abont their beef; a silly com-
plaint, particularly foolish when preferred almost within
sicht of port. Mr. Browning knew that the captain
meant to shut up the ringleader in the ice-house (now
as warm as any part of the ship) at midnight, when the
passengers should beasleep. ‘Ihe man resisted, making
so much noise over the passengers’ heads, that the
captain sent him into confinement in the forepart of
the ship: but it was too late for secrecy. ‘The captain
is much annoyed at the confusion created; and I do
not think he is aware that any of us know the cause.
All is quiet enough this morming. It is bright and
cold. We are off the Tusca lighthouse, the extreme
south-east point of Ireland; and the little wind there
isis fair. This mutiny is a good hint. If we grow
dull, I shall propose a mutiny about the handles of the
milk pitchers, which were broken off in the gale; the
pitchers being thus rendered inconvenient to hold.
At this moment, Mr. Tracy brings news that the
captain expects to be off Holyhead this evening; so I
jump up, and run to unpack and arrange for landing,
that I may have the last few hours free. O, with what
pleasure I took out gown, shawl, bonnet and gloves for
to-morrow ! packing up books; putting away every-
thing sea-spoiled, and being completely at liberty by
dinner-time !
In the afternoon, the captain found a dry seat on th
binnacle for Miss Saunders and me; and then went
and stood by himself, too much excited for conversation.
Mr. Browning told us we conld not understand the
emotions of the captain of a ship on concluding his
voyage. We talked of our homes on either side the
water; and looked out through the fog and rain, dimly
discerning a ship which we supposed to be the packet
of the 24th.—After tea we played, for Mr. Ely’s sake,
our final rubber: but we could not attend to our cards,
and were glad to throw them away. At half-past ten
o’clock, we ran up to see the Holyhead light. As we
passed in the dark, there could be no telegraphic com-
munication to Liverpool of our approach, aud we must
rive up the hope of seeing our friends on the pier.
26th. At six, Miss Saunders came to my room,
dressed, and talked for an hour, the cabin being in
oreat confusion with the preparations of the ladies,
We sent Margaret to le«.a where we were. About
thirty miles from Liverpool; but the tide would not allow
us to get to port before eleven. Every body was
assembled early on deck, dressed for landing; and each,
as he appeared, more spruce than the last. ‘The cook
could not be prevailed upon to let us have a slovenly
breakfast early, that we might be wholly at leisure at
the last. By a little after nine, however, the steams of
breakfast ascended ; and before that time I saw, through
the @lass, the church steeples of Liverpool. ‘The Welsh
mountains looked lovely through athin haze, which Mr,
Browning chose to call a foe.
Mr. Bruce gratified me by a piece of truly kind con-
He said that, from the absence of notice
their rooms, and up on deck; the ladies screamed, and | of our approach from Holyhead, my friends would not
-
Pe
——s —~
1837.]
probably be awaiting me. He was alone, with time to
spare. If I wonld give him a line to my friends, he
would be the first to step ashore, and would bring them
to me. I promised to accept his good offices, if, after
reasonable waiting, no familiar faces appeared on the
pier.
Soon after breakfast we saw the floating lights and
the castle at the mouth of the Mersey; then New
Brighton, with its white houses, trim gardens and
plantations ; and then some golden harvest-fields. ‘The
post-office boat was soon seen coming towards us—a
sion that we were expected. Then came the custom-
house boat, to deposit an officer on board. We pointed
out to Miss Saunders the gable of a honse covered with
ivy ;—a plant which she had read of, since she could
read at all, but never seen, as it does not grow in
America. She was surprised at the narrowness of the
Mersey; Mr. Bruce apologized for it ;—a bad habit
which he had learned in America, we told him.
As we hove alongside the pier groups began to as-
semble; chiefly work-people from about the docks. All
had their hands in their pockets; and Miss Saunders
asked me, lanehing, whether she was to conclude that
all EKnelishmen carried their hands there. In a few
minutes breathless gentlemen came running down the
Parade. Among: them I found the face I was looking
for. A watchman had given notice, from the top of the
Iixchange, that the Enrydice was coming up the river,
and in an incredibly short time the news spread over
the town. With eager kindness the captain fixed the
plank, and handed me on shore.
I am sure this gentleman must by this time have
more of your esteem and regard than ever. We, his
passengers, feel that we are more deeply indebted to
him than he knows of; not only for his professional
qualities and hospitality, but for a lesson on the value
of good temper, and the dignity of greatness of mind.
As for the rest, they kept up their characters to the
end. Miss Lamine’s last act on board was ordering the
steward to throw overboard Miss Sannders’s geranium,
broueht from Dr. Channing’s garden in Rhode Island,
and kept alive through the voyage by great care.
Wherever these ladies may have gone (and we have
heard nothing of them since), they carry with them our
sincerest pity. Others of the company of shipmates
have since repeatedly met, and enjoyed, as shipmates
do, the retrospect of the brighter days of their Month
at Sea.
VOLCANO OF GALONGOON.
I’ew volcanic eruptions on record have proved so de-
structive in their progress, or so fatal in their effects,
as that of the mountain of Galongoon, in the island of
Java, which took place in October, 1822. The anni-
hilation of a nnmber of populous and beautiful villages,
the destruction of thousands of human beings, and the
conversion of a fertile region into an irreclaimable waste,
were the most prominent results of this terrific display
of the forces concealed beneath the surface of the globe.
Lhe Galongoon is situated in a very fruitful and
thickly- -peopled part of Java, and was, before the oc-
currence to which we are Paint to advert, almost hidden
by a dense forest, which reached to its summit, and
covered also a considerable portion of the deep and
extensive valley. which stretches from east to west at
the foot of the mountain, gradually widening to the
plains watered by the rivers Tandoi and Wulan. <A
number of little rivers have their sources in the Galon-
goon, from whose heights they roll in rapid cascades
until they reach the plains, where they join the rivers
above named. No tradition existed of an irrnption of
the mountain at any former period, and the inhabitants
were cultivating its rich borders in fancied security
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
43]
until the moment when the frightful event happened
which destroyed so large a proportion of their numbers.
There were, however, many indications of volcanic ac-
tion which would have alarmed a more reflective people
than the Javanese. Contiunal subterraneous sounds
had been for a long period heard in the neighbourhood
of the mountain, and these noises had been more par-
ticularly loud whenever an eruption took place at any
of the other numerous volcanoes on the island. The
remion was decidedly volcanic; the summits of the Ga-
longoon were generally circular, hollow within, and
steep on the outside; the plain was covered with de-
tached hills, formed of irregular basaltic rocks.
In the month of July which preceded the eruption, it
was remarked that the little river Kunir, one of those
which have their sources on the mountain, emitted
a strong bituminous smell; it was also hotter than
usual, and became so turbid, that the persons who
forded it on foot came ont with a white foam remain-
ing on their legs. These appearances excited some
attention, and a person was deputed to examine into
their causes: he ascended the river nearly to its source,
but nothing extraordinary appears to have been seen;
the river soon recovered its former clearness, and any
little uneasiness which might have been felt was for-
eotten until the day of the first eruption. On this day,
the Sth of October, the weather was fine and clear, and
no unusual signs were seen until about two o'clock,
when a loud explosion drew the eyes of every person
within hearing to the region of the Galongoon; a thick
black smoke was there seen to rnsh out with violence,
to rise to a great height in the air, and then to spread
itself on every side. The whole country was soon
wrapped in thick darkness. ‘The detonations became
louder and louder every moment, and the earth to a
great distance round shook violently. The inhabitants
were soon in rapid flight from the scene of terror, but
their progress was arrested by a fri¢htful obstacle.
Immense columns of mnd, boiling hot, and mixed with
burning brimstone, were projected from the mountain
like a water-spout, with such prodigious violence, that
large quantities fell beyond the river Tandoi, which is
forty miles off. Every valley within the range of this
eruption became a burning torrent, and the rivers,
swelled by the terrible stream to a great height, soon
overflowed their banks, and carried away creat num-
bers of the unfortunate people who were endeavouring
to escape. In addition to these canses of death, the
thunder rolled awfully, and the lightning destroyed a
number of persons wlio were beyond the more imme-
diate effects of the eruption. The destruction was at
its height about four oclock; at that hour it began to
decrease: by five o'clock it had ceased, and a dead
silence succeeded ; the air then gradually cleared up,
and the mountain was again visible.
The scene which now presented itself was of the most
melancholy description; the former forest was now
nothing but trunks of half-burned trees; the plain be-
tween the monntain and the river Tandoi was converted
to a perfect waste: for a space of twenty-four miles tlic
boiling mud had covered the country to a great depth,
insomuch that, throughout all that extent, not a trace
was visible of all the pretty villages and numerous
plantations which a few hours before had covered tlie
country. The whole was a bluish half-liquid waste.
In this tract the fatal cause of destruction covered and
concealed the ravages it had made; but towards the
limits of the volcanic action the prospect was horrible ;
bodies of men, women, and children, partly boiled and
partly burned, were strewed about in every variety of
death: a few only survived, and they were those who
were too severely wounded to fly, and whose groans
added horror to the scene. All those who were not
disabled had already fled,
432
It was remarked that the burning’) matter had been
thrown chiefly to great distances, and that many remote
villages were utterly destroyed, while several others
much nearer to the mountain were scarcely injured.
This was particularly observed in the districts of Raja-
polla and Indihyang, where many tracts in the midst of
the inundation were comparatively uninjured, being
merely covered with a fine layer of ashes.
During the following days the rain fell in torrents ;
the inhabitants of the plain who had escaped the inun-
dation of boiling mud hastened to construct a number
of huts on the desert hills scattered through the country,
and several hundred persons were thus engaged during
the four following days: all this time the rain con-
tinued to fall, and towards the evening of the fourth day
(October 12) it became a deluge: the rivers, which
had been constantly rising, now swelled to such a height
that they carried away the bridges on the roads, and
cut off all means of escape to the adjoining country.
About seven o'clock in the evening, when the sky was
totally obscured, a lond explosion was heard, accom-
panied by the violent shock of an earthquake; another
and another explosion followed, each accompanied by
earthquakes. No fire, not a flash of lightning relieved
the darkness of the night, and a dead silence suc-
ceeded. This was soon interrupted by the roaring of
the waters; which, mingled with mud, masses of earth,
trees, and large pieces of rock, rolled over the plain,
and rose so high as to cover most of the hills on which
the unhappy natives had built their frail sheds. The
destruction of the bridges took away the remotest hope
of escape. Of all the numbers who had thus taken
refugee those alone survived who had fixed themselves
on the few more lofty points which were only sur-
rounded and not covered by the inundation. These
poor people were .delivered within a few days by the
exertions of the Dutch Government, after having sul-
fered the extremity of hunger and misery.
This last eruption was much more violent in its
effects than thatof the Sth of October, although its
consequences were less injurious, because the region
through which its force was exerted had been already
desolated by the first eruption. . Such changes were
produced by it in the face of the country, that the in-
habitants were unable to recognise their own homes.
The face of the mountain was utterly changed; the
summits were broken down; the side towards the
valley, which had been covered with trees, became an
enormous gulf in the form of a semicircle. This crater,
which is abont midway between the summit and the
plain, is surrounded by steep rocks, heaped up by the
force of the last eruption: new hills and valleys were
formed all over the country: two considerable rivers,
the Banyarane and the Wulan, completely changed the
course of their waters, and now fall into the Kunir:
large rocks of basalt strew the plain to the distance of
more than twenty miles from the mountain, and in the
whole of that extent scarcely a tree remains of all the
forests by which it had until then been covered.
Much was done by the Dutch authorities to alleviate
the sufferings of the survivors of this dreadful calamity.
The President, Baron Vander Capelien, from whose
official report our account is taken, hastened to the
spot as soon as the news of the first eruption reached
him, accompanied by a skilful physician, and attended
by a number of followers, with horses and provisions.
The following is an extract from his report :—*‘* Never
will the scene which I witnessed on the 15th be effaced
from my memory. * * * The greatest number of
bodies were lying within a few yards of. the villages,
which proves that the unhappy inhabitants had at-
tempted to flee, but that they had been immediately
overtaken by the burning torrent, in which they found
a dreadful death. Here was seen, close by the trunk
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
{NovemBer 4, 1837.
of a tree overthrown, a mother with her baby, both
dead, and half consumed ; there a woman still holding
her two children by the hands, killed in the act of flying
from the scene of terror and dismay. In one of the
villages of Indihyane, which had been destroyed, we
found the body of a woman, on whose breast her baby
was supported, still alive. The infant which had been
so miraculously preserved was immediately entrusted
to a careful Javanese woman, and it is now in very
good health. In the same hamlet a man was saved in
an equally wonderful manner. He was in the act of
flying, when a cocoa-tree, overthrown by the earth-
quake, fell upon him, and covered his body with its
thick foliage, so that the boiling mud passed by without
touching him. ‘This man gave me a striking descrip-
tion of the horrible situation of these unfortunate vil-
lagers.”
The Baron Vander Canellen was unable to approach
the mountain within maz miles, in consequence of the
immense quantities of soft mud which covered every-
thing’; in many places it exceeded sixty feet in depth,
and it was yet fluid. He was, however, able to afford
considerable relief to the sufferers. He established hos-
pitals and asylums for the sick, wounded, and destitute,
and employed numbers of the Javanese force under his
command to construct bamboo rafts, with which they
were able to float upon the mud, and to approach such
parts of the hills as were not covered. . Several persons
were rescued hy these means, though in the most
wretched state of destitution; but clothes, food, and
medical assistance were supplied, and many lives thus
saved. ‘T’he baron was not less nsefully engaged in per-
suading those who had fled to return to their dwellings,
to rebuild and repair such as had suffered, and to re-
sume the cultivation of their rice-fields, which they had
abandoned. He found considerable difficulty in effect-
ing this, from the constant apprehension the natives re-
tained of fresh devastation ;° for although the eruptions
had ceased, the most violent detonations were heard
from time to time, at each of which the poor people
were ready to fly to any part of the country which
seemed likely to.afford an asylum. Superstition also,
as common in such cases, added to their alarm. White
flags were said to be visible on the summits of the
adjoining hills, and persons asserted that they had seen
such flags on the top of the Galongoon, just before the
first eruption. The baron found that the most effec-
tual course of proceeding was to get the chiefs to return,
and when these came back the people readily followed.
The government assisted in rebuilding the destroyed
dwellings, and in the much more difficult operation of
re-opening the silukams or canals by which the rice
fields are irrigated. By these several means, aided by
liberal subscriptions opened at Batavia and Samarane,
the country was at leneth restored to something like
tranquillity; but it is not likely that it will ever recover
its former fertility and beauty; the thick mud has car-
ried barrenness over a great extent of territory, and
masses of rock now encumber places once cultivated
and covered with rice-fields and coffee plantations.
The following is a summary of the official statement
of damages presented to the Dutch Government of
Java :—
Villages destroyed « © «6 «© « « » 114
Persons killed . a 7 e e @ ® ) 4011
Horses doug aeee 6s 105
Cattle cdQ@psems oc « Gicge ee 893
Canals destroyed and injured . . 6 87
Rice-fields ditto, an extent producing
annually, of rice. . . .
Coffee-trees, ditto
42,000 cewts,
4,627,537 5,
ditto e s e
*,* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledye is at
59, Lincoln’s lun Fields.
LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT & CO., 22, LUDGATE STREET.
Printed by Witt1am CLowss and Sons, Stamford Street.
THE PENNY MAGA;
¢
OF THE
society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledce.
300.
PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY.
[November 1], 1837.
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A SCAR iV &
{ Herd of Gaus. } !
Arrica is the great nursery of the Antelopes. They
there fill up the place which the deer tribe occupy in
other countries, a tribe of which the southern and
central regions of Africa appear to be destitute. With
the idea of an antelope we are apt to associate all that
is graceful and elegant in figure, and all that is active
and sprightly in movement. ‘To many it is true such a
description applies. The gazelle and the spring-bok
offer instances of exquisite proportions, and with slender
and tapering limbs, they bound along with astonishing
ease and celerity. ‘To others, however, such a descrip-
tion will not apply. Their size and proportions ally
them to the ox tribe; their gait is slow and heavy, their
figure clumsy, and their eyes, instead of beaming with
animation, are dull and spiritless. We may here in-
stance the Canna (Antilope oreas, Pall.). This animal
is a native of South Africa, where it is commonly
designated the eland or elk. It is of large size and
ponderous form, weighing, when full grown, from seven
to nine hundred- -weight, and is commonly very fat. Its
flesh being in high estimation, it is much hunted, and
falls an easy prey “to its pursuers, for it can neither run
long, nor fast. It Jives in large herds, which often
Vou. VI.
permit a man on horseback to ride into their midst
without taking to flight. ‘The withers rise, from the
leneth of the : spinous processes of the vertebra of that
part, into a sort of hump 5 and the neck, compressed at
the sides as in the ox, is furnished with a pendant dew-
lap. ‘The Cauma or Hartebeest (A. caama, Cuv.), and
the Koba, or grande vache brune, of the Fr ench (4. koba,
Oeilb.), may be also adduced. While on the one hand
Wwe see certain groups of antelopes closely allied to the
ox tribe, on the other. hand there are not wanting those
which in form and habits closely approximate to the
ooat. The Chamois of the Alps (A. rupicapra), the
Goral of the elevated’ plains of the Himalayan range in
India (A. goral, Hardw.), the Thar of the same range
sf Thar, Hodes. ), the Prong-buck of the rocky moun-
tains of North America (A. “furcifer, H. Smith), and
the Klipspringer of the inaccessible mountains of South
Africa (A. oreotragus, Forst.), are examples in point.
Were we then to compare the eland on the one side,
and the chamois on the other, with the gazelle of the
desert, we should see at once the division line between
the antelopes as a family, and the family of the ox; and
that of the goat is purely arbitrary, for it yr evident
3
A34
that many of the larger antelopes are far more nearly
allied to the ox, than to the gazelle, while the prong-
horned antelope and chamois both in eeneral form and
habits represent the @woat. The fact is, that the ante-
lopes as they stand arranged in most systematic works
consist of a nuinber of distinct forms, or genera, ill-
assorted together under one head ;—these forms have
their own exclusive characters, and stand in different
deerees of relationship to each other; each form too,
has its peculiar habits. Some with a muzzle covered
with hair browse upon shrnbs, the prehensile power of
the lips fitting them for this action; others again, with
a naked muzzle like that of the ox, graze the herbage of
the field. Some choose the arid desert as their abode,
and live in the wilds in vast herds, content with the
scattered shrubs which they afford; some prefer the
luxuriant borders of rivers, and plains rich in vegetation ;
some make the mountain ridges their home, and fear-
lessly traverse the edge of the most stupendous preci-
pices, leaping from crag to crag, beyond reach of the
most daring hunter. Others conceal themselves amidst
dense thicket and underwood, through which they dive
with peculiar address; one species indeed has acquired
the name of Duikerbok, (Diving Goat) from this re-
markable habit.
The antelopes, then (to retain the word), ere, as we
have endeavoured to explain, resolvable into many dis-
tinct genera. One of the most remarkable, if indeed
not the most so of all, is that to which Colonel H. Smith
has assioned the title of Catoblepas. It includes three
allied species: the Gnu (Catoblepas Gna), the Kokoon
(C. taurina), and the brindled Gnu (C. gorgon).
The term Catoblepas (Karw6ael) was given by
/Elian to a savage animal of terrific aspect, inhabiting
Africa, the description of which renders it very probable
that the gnu was the creature thus designated. Pliny
(ch. viii, 32. Valpy Ed. 1826) states it to be a native
of Aithiopia, near the rise of the Nile; adding, that it is
of moderate bulk, but sluggish in its limbs, and fur-
nished with a ponderous head, which it carries low, and
that its glance is deadly,—a description certainly not
applicable to the gnu, and indeed too vague and extrava-
vant to require the serious notice of the naturalist.
The gnu, however, is so strange an animal, that we
cannot be surprised if the ancients invested it with
something of the marvellous. It appears as if it were
a compound of the horse, ox, and stag’, for it partakes
of the characters of all three, and not the least of those
of the lhorse; in fact, the neck, body, and tail are those
of a well-formed small horse; the former is furnished
with a mane, and the tail is long and flowing. ‘The
limbs are slender, vigorous, well-knit, and resemble
those of a stag,—while the head and horns remind us
of the buffalo. The eyes are lowering, and expressive
of great ferocity; the horns, which are common to both
sexes, closely resemble those of tlie savage Cape buffalo,
except that they are smaller: they arise from a basal
mass of horn, expanding like a helmet over the fore-
head, whence they sweep downwards between the eyes,
and then suddenly turn upwards, and somewhat out-
wards, euding in a sharp point. ‘Their situation is al-
together such as to overshadow the eyes, producing an
aspect of suspicion and vindictiveness. ‘The chaffron is
furnished with a mane-like tuft of bristly hairs; and
the chin and throat are covered with hairs of a similar
character, also forming a shaggy beard, while a full
mane flows down from the under-side of the neck, and
from between the fore-limbs; that alone the upper
ridee of the neck being thick and upright. The head
is heavy; and the muzzle is expanded into a thick
muscular valve, or flap, which shuts down like a lid, so
as to close the aperture of the nostrils, which are tlins
capable of being opened or closed at will. ‘The lachry-
mal sinus consists of a small gland below the angle of
~,
THE PENNY MAGAZINE
[| NovEMBER 11,
each eye, and concealed in a tuft of long hair, by which
it is entirely surrounded.
The gnu is a native of the wild karroos of South
Africa, and the hilly districts, where it roams sometimes
singly, but mostly in large herds, which migrate ac-
cording to the season. The extent of its range in the in-
terior regions is not known. As far, however, as travel-
lers have penetrated, herds have been met and chased ;
for its flesh is prized as food both by the natives and
the colonists. They are, however, extremely wild, and
not to be approached without difficulty. On the first
alarm, away scours the troop, not in a tumultuous
mass, but in single file, following a leader; and as they
are seen galloping in the distance over the plain,
they so much resemble zebras, or quageas,—teuants of
the same wilds—that were it not for the difference of
colour, they might easily be mistaken for those animals.
The general colour of the gnu is deep umber-brown,
ranging upon black; the tail and mane are grey,—the
latter, indeed, nearly white. ‘Their speed, as might be
expected from the vigour and compactness of their body
and limbs, is very great. When first alarmed, how-
ever, they do not exert it, but pl inge about, flinging
out their heels, butting at various objects, and ex-
hibiting emotions of violent fury. It is seldom that
they venture upon an attack unless hard pressed, or
wounded, when they defend themselves with despera-
tion: dropping on their knees, they dart forward upon
their rash enemy with extraordinary force and im-
petuosity,—and unless he be cool and prepared, he
cannot escape his fate.
That the gnu Is sometimes seen single appears from
the account of Sparrman, who observes (vol. ii. p. 131),
“On the 24th I was induced to stay a little longer on
this spot, by the hopes of shooting a @nu which had
been seen ranging by iéself about this part of the
country. JZ” Gnu is the Hottentot name for a singular
animal which, with respect to its form, is between the
horse and the ox. The size of it is about that of a
common galloway, the length of it being somewhat
about five feet, and the height of it rather more than
four, * * * The enu then wandering in these parts
was probably, an old buck, which did not care to keep
company any longer with the herd to which it be-
longed, or had been accidentally separated froin it.
As this that was seen here kept upon the open plains,
and we could not steal upon it by creeping towards it
from among the bushes, I endeavoured to overtake it
on horseback: and, indeed, at first I got almost within
eunshot of the animal, when it showed its vicious dis-
position in making various curvets and plunges, flinging
out behind with one or both legs, and butting against
the mole-hills with its horns; but immediately upon
this, it fled with considerable velocity in a direct line
over the plain as far as the eye could discern it, and I
cannot help thinking that this was one that was become
furious, as the other gnws I have chased since would
frequently stop to look back at their pursuers, as soon
as they had gained ground of them in any considerable
degree. What coutributed not a little to this @nu’s
having escaped me was, that the eronnd was rocky ;
and that an ardent desire for dissecting this animal
induced me to push my horse on too fast at first, so
that in a very little time it was quite out of breath, and
all over in a tremor.” Indeed, so excessively was the
horse fatigued, that Sparrman could not even cliase a
jackal that was feasting on an elk-antelope shot tle
day before. At asubsequent period he met with large
herds of gnus, and was more successful. Mr. Pringle
observed the gnu among the hills at Bavian’s River:
he informs us that its flesh in all its qnalities has much
resemblance to beef. He also asserts, that like the
buffalo and ox, this animal is enraged by the sight of
scarlet, ‘Jt was one of our amusements to hoist a
1837.
red handkerchief on a pole, and observe them caper
about, lashing their flanks with their long tails and
tearing up the ground with their hoofs, as if they were
violently excited and ready to run down upon us; and
then all at once, as we were ready to fire upon them,
to see them bound away, and again go prancing round
us at a safer distance.” ‘This aversion to scarlet we
have ourselves notieed in individuals in captivity, and
oN one occasion much enraged a gnu by suddenly dis-
playing the searlet lining of a cloak.
The gnu when taken young may be tamed without
much difficulty. Sparrman caught a ealf, and as he says
“had likewise previously seen and examined another
tame one of the same size which was intended as a
present for the governor: it was feared, however, that
this as well as the young hartedcests which they were
endeavouring to bring up tame, would be subject to a
kind of furor or madness.’ Why so we are not in-
formed. Mr. Pringle assures us that the enu taken
young will become as domesticated as the cattle of the
farm, with which it assceiates, harmlessly going and
returning to pasture: it appears however that few
farmers like to domestieate it, as it is liable to a cuta-
neous eruption which it eommunicates to the cattle,
and which is invariably fatal. In eonfinement the enu
often becomes ferocious, and is not to be approached
without caution ; the females are Jess dangerous than
the males, and more easily manageable.
With regard to the second species of gnu—viz., the
Kokoon (Catohblepas or Antilope taurina), it is larger
than the preeeding species, whieh it closely resembles,
but with which it never assoeiates though it inhabits
the same countries, It is far less daring than the enu,
ald is sometimes found solitary, but most frequently in
herds, whieh wander over the karroos, or vast plains in
the interior. <A fine speeiimen is in the Museum of the
“Cape of Good Hope Association for exploring central
Africa,’ now exhibiting at the Egyptian Hall. In the
catalogue, it is termed the Brindled or Black-tailed
Gnu; but the former title has already been appropriated
to the third species (C. gorgon). ‘The seeond may be
used instead of the Booshwana name, Kokoon. We are
informed that “the Nu Gariep, or Black River, appears to
form the limit of its southern range; and though herds
often feed almost upon the very banks of that stream,
yet not an individual has been known to cross,—a cir-
eumstalice the more remarkable, as the common species
(C. gnu) regularly passes it for the northern dis-
triets of the colony. In manner, it appears more
ferocious than it reallyis. It will approaeh the hunter,
as if to do battle with him, and then seamper from him
with as much alacrity as the most timid animal that
flies at his first glance. It is met with in considerable
herds in the more extensive plains north of the Orange
River; and when alarmed, eaeh herd decamps in long
recular files. ‘The flesh of this species, in common
with the other, is mueh sought after as food, both by
the natives and by such colonists as obtain permission
to cross the boundaries of the colony for the purpose of
hunting, and is eonsidered both wholesome and pala-
table. The Beehuanas use the skin for their cloaks or
mantles.” Of the third species, the C. gorgon of
Colonel Hamilton Smith, little is known. A specimen
exists in the Museum of the London Missionary Society,
which was brought from South Africa. It is certainly
very distinct from either of the preeeding animals.
Le Vaillant, in his second voyage, notices a variety of
the enu, which is not unlikely to be identical with this.
Colonel H. Smith supposes it to be the Baas of the
Dutch boors of South Afriea, the name (which signifies
master) probably referring to its bold and fierce dis-
position.
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
435
ON SEALING-WAX.,
Amone the numerous terms applied to articles in
common use which are ealculated to mislead, there is
perhaps none more striking than the one which forms
the subject of the present paper. A stick of sealing-
wax, whether black or red, or the mottled varieties
which adorn the lady's escritoir, and sparkle on her
notes and billets-doux, does not contain one partiele of
wax; nay, on the contrary, we are aware of no process
by which wax could be made to serve all, or indeed
any, of the purposes to whieh the resin, whieh is the
basis of every kind of sealing-wax, is applied.
The chemical distinction between wax and resin are
sufficientiy marked and striking to constitute two dis-
tinct classes of bodies, between which there is no con-
neeting link of analory. Wax is the conerete, unetuous,
fusible matter secreted by bees in constructing their
eells. The berries of the Myrica Cerifera, and the
leaves and stem of the Cerorylon, also yield much wax
by being bruised and boiled in water. The former
is sometimes called the Candleberry Myrtle, of which
there are thirteen species in different parts of the
world; one inhabits Britain, and there is another in
North America which affords a waxy substance em-
ployed in making candles—hence its name.
The celebrated chemist, Proust, says that the bloom
on fruit is real wax; and it is admitted that it is wax
which gives that @lossy lustre to leaves, and prevents
their being wetted: indeed, it was at one time supposed
that the bee obtains its wax from this souree, until
Huber showed that the insect has the power of con-
verting sugar into wax; it is, in fact, with this animal,
a seeretion. White wax, or purified animal wax, is
colourless and insipid; it is lighter than water, inso-
luble, and fuses at about 150°. It is scarcely dissolved
by boiling alcohol, but it is.readily soluble in the fixed
oils when aided by heat. It forms a very imperfect
soap when eombined with alkalies; the strong mineral
acids searcely aet upon it—hence its advantage in en-
graving and many of the arts.
The resins are substances entirely of vegetable origin,
whieh exude from trees and plants, or are procured
from them by the action of aleohol, in which they
largely dissolve. ‘They are not soluble in water; and
if any of our readers will dissolve a piece of resin—sueh
as shell-lac or sealing-wax—in spirit of wine, and pour
the solution. into water, nearly the whole of the resin
will quit the spirit, and in a short time will be deposited
in a finely-divided state at the bottom of the vessel.
This is a pretty, and at the same time an easy and in-
struetive experiment. Its explanation is this:—Water
and spirit will eombine if mixed in any proportion, but
a eertain quantity of spirit will dissolve only a eertain
quantity of resin, and no more. When it has dissolved
this quantity to the fullest extent, the spirit is said to
be saturated. Now there is a certain affinity or attrae-
tion between spirit and resin, and between spirit and
water. The attraction between spirit and water is
stronger than between spirit and resin; therefore the
spirit quits its hold of the resin to eombine with the
water, and the resin, having nothing that will hold it in
solution, is thrown down.
Some resins are a little lighter than water, while
others are heavier. They are further distinguished
from wax by being very brittle, and fusing at a higher
temperature. Wax, as we have said, melts at 150°,
whereas common resin begins to melt at 276°, and is
not completely liquid until the temperature attains
306°. Some of them are dissolved, or are otherwise
acted on, by strong acids. ‘They also dissolve perfectly
in potash and soda, and combine with other alkalies
forming with them various compounds which we need
not here discuss. ‘Che resins-as they exude from trees
3K 2
436
are sometimes mixed with gum; in this state they are
called gum-resins. ‘The gum is separated froin the
resin by the action of water, the former being soluble
in that menstruum.
The principal resins are common resin, copal, lac,
sandarach, mastich, elemi, and dragon’s blood. The
first is procured, by heating turpentine, which is a
compound of oil of turpentine and resin, by which the
oil is driven off. Common turpentine is obtained by
cutting the trunk of the Scotch fir; Venice turpentine
is obtained from the larch; and Canadian turpentine
from the Pinus Balsamea, <All of these afford resin
by the application of heat. ‘The wood of the fir tree is
also made to yield pitch, (which is a compound resin,)
empyreumatic oil, and acetic acid. Il*or an account
of this process we refer the reader to the ‘Penny Maga-
zine, vol. v., p. 50.
The amleerre of Tolu and Peru, which are viscid
fluids; storax and benzoin, which are solids; and
caoutchouc or Indian-rubber, which in its first state is
fluid, are all among the resins, and are obtained by
means of incisions made in trees. Amber Is also a
resin.
Such then are the leading features which distinguish
wax from resins. We pass on now to consider, first,
the history of sealing-wax ; aud, second, the process by
which it is prepared for use in that form with which
every one is so familiar.
Respecting the mode of sealing letters and documents
before the invention of common sealing-wax, Mr. Fos-
brooke says, ‘*‘ Impressions in gold, silver, and lead,
occur in Trajan and the other Roman emperors in
Ficoroni; among the Christian emperors, bishops, &c. ;
in the East, Spain, Sicily, Italy, and in the south, but
not the north of France. The Zerra Sigillaris, or
sealing-earth, which was rather a bitumen, was brought
front Asia by the Romans, and was first known, says
Beckmann, among the Egyptians, and the specimens
are seemingly all enclosed in leaden cases. Pipe-clay |
was also used, as well as maltha—a cement of pitch,
wax, plaster, and fat; applied likewise to make pipes
water-tight. ‘The Etruscans even sealed treaties with
blood ; and dough, or paste, has been used.’ *
It does not appear that common sealing-wax was
invented earlier than the sixteenth century. he first
letter in Europe known to have been sealed with it
was dated from: London, August 3, 1554, addressed to
the Rheingrave Philip Francis von Daun, from his
agent in England, Gerhard Hermann. ‘The wax em-
ployed i in sealing this letter is of a dark red colour, very
shining, and the i impress bears the initials of the writer,
G. H. “The next seal recorded in the order of time is
on a letter written in 1651 to the Council of Gorlitz,
at Breslau, which is sealed in three places with beau-
tiful red wax. ‘here are two letters in 1563 from
Connt Louis of Nassau to the Landgrave William IV. ;
one is sealed with red wax and the other with black.
In 1566 two letters are noticed to the Rheingrave
Frederick von Daun, from his steward, Charles de
Ponsol, in Picardy, dated September the 2nd and 7th;
and another letter from Ponsol to the Rheingrave,
dated Paris, January 22nd, 1567, is sealed with red
wax, of a higher colour than the for mer, and apparently
coarser in quality. On the. 15th of May, 1571, Vulcot,
a French nobleman, who the year before had been
ambassador from the King of France to the court of
Weimar, wrote a letter to that court sealed with red
Wax ; he had sealed nine letters of a prior date with
common wax. From an old expense-book of 1616 in
the records of Plessingburg ‘‘ Spanish wax’? and other
writing materials were ordered from a manufacturer of
sealing-wax at Nnrembere, for the personal use of
Christian, Marerave of Brandenburg.
= ‘Encyslilieedia of AuGiquiieer p. 218,
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
a a I a ee
RN Ea aR a a a Ver
|
|
| oreat repute.
| sufficient for six sticks is taken and weighed.
[NovemeBer 1],
“It has been conjectured,” says Beckmann, from
whom the above details are extracted, “that as the
oldest seals came from England and France, and as
the invention is called ‘ Spanish wax,’ it originated
with the Spaniards; but this is doubted. The first
notice of sealing-wax occurs in a work by Garcia ah
Orto, or Horto, entitled ‘ Aromatum et simplicium
aliquot Historia,’ &c., first printed in 1563, and after-
wards at Antwerp in 1574, 8vo., in which latter edition
it is mentioned at p. 33. The oldest printed receipt
for sealing-wax is in a work entitled ‘ Neu Titularbuch,
&c., Durch Samuelen Zimmerman, Burger zu Augs-
purge, 1579,’ 4to., p. 112. The following is a transla-
tion:—‘ To make hard sealing-wax, called ‘ Spanish
wax, with which if letters be sealed they cannot be
opened without breaking the seal.—Take beautiful
clear resin, the whitest you can procure, and melt it
over a slow charcoal fire. When it is properly melted,
take it from the fire, and for every pound of resin add
two ounces of cinnabar, pounded very fine, stirring it
about. Then let the whole cool, or pour it into cold
water; thus you will have beautiful red wax. If you
are desirous of having black wax, add lamp-black to it.
With smalt, or azure, yon may make it blues with
white-lead, white; and with orpiment, yellow. If in-
stead of resin you melt purified turpentine in a glass
vessel, and give it any colour you choose, you will have
a harder kind of sealing-wax, and not so brittle as the
former.’ ” So far Beckmann: we must warn our readers,
however, not to prepare their own wax according to the
above recipe. The latter part of the recipe, where a
harder wax is said to be less brittle than one which we
presume is softer, is quite erroneous.
Respecting the common appellation ‘f Spanish wax,”
it has been considered as importing no more than
Spanish flies, Spanish enm, and several other Spanish
commodities; for it was formerly the custom to give all
new things—particularly those which excited wonder,
or excelled in quality—the appellation of “* Spanish.”
Frem the legend inscribed upon sticks of sealing-
wax even at the present day, it may naturally be in-
ferred that the manufacture of this article was long
monopolised by the Dutch. The inscription, “ Branp
WELL EN VAST HOUD” (Burn well and hold fast), im-
pressed on each stick, cansed this wax to be held in
But the term being constantly forged, it
became in time anything but a recommendation; and
large and honourable dealers were in the habit of placiag
their names, or the names of their retail customers upon
the sticks, to the exclusion of ** Brand well,” &c.
The modern mode of manufacturing this useful article
is as follows:—In the manufacture of sealing-wax,
resin, as we have already said, ts the chief ingredient.
Turpentine is sometimes added, and a colouring matter,
which, however, is not essential to its use, but only to
its appearance. We find that gum-lac is a very com-
mon ingredient in this article; and although this is
aresin, yet it differs from common resin by being an
anlinal product, and containing a sinall quantity of
wax; about one-twentieth of the whole. Lac is de-
posited by an insect on various kinds of trees, chiefly
in the East Indies: stick-lac is the substance in its
crude unprepared state, and is procured by breaking off
the twigs with which it is covered. Shell-lac is the
same substauce, deprived of the wood by melting.
The best Dutch sealing-wax (as it is even now called
in commerce) is made by melting four pounds of light-
coloured shell-lac with a pound of Venice turpentine,
and three pounds of Chinese vermilion (which is a
compound of mercury and sulphur, sometimes called
cinuabar). The ingredients must be stirred well to-
gether, and when the mixture is nearly set, a quantity
The
sticks are made on an elevated marble slab, under
1837.]
which is a chafing-dish, to keep it properly heated.
The wax is rolled on this slab with the hands until it is
brought to a roll, nearly the length of six sticks, after
which the prcper length and thickness are exactly at-
tained by rolling it with a square piece of hard wood.
The stick is then given to another workman, who rolls
it upon a cold marble slab with a marble roller until
it is quite cold, and then polishes it by holding the
stick between two charcoal fires, placed at a small dis-
tance opposite each other, until the surface, by begin-
ning to melt, has become smooth. As the long stick
grows hard, five deep indentations are made in it,
dividing it into six equal lengths. A third workman
breaks the long sticks into the six proper lengths, and
finishes them by holding the ends to the flame of. a
lamp, and impressing on one end the stamp of the
maker.
Oval, grooved, channelled, or ornamented sealing-
wax, is made by pouring the fluid wax into steel
moulds. Golden sealing-wax is made by employing
powdered yellow mica, or cat-gold, instead of vermilion.
Different colours, such as verditer (which is a prepara-
tion of sulphate of copper) or smalt, for blue; ivory-
black (which is the carbon or soot obtained by burning
impure resin), for black ; masticot, or turbith mineral,
for yellow, &c.,—are employed instead of verinilion,
that being solely a matter of taste as rewards colour.
he French wax is also frequently rendered fragrant
by mixing amberegris, musk, oi] of rhodium, or oil of
benjamin, with the other ingredients.
The colour of sealing-wax was a point of much eti-
quette in former ages, but this most probably related
to the softer kind of wax which was in use before the
invention of the resinous substance now employed.
The large seals employed for official purposes, such as
the Great Seal of the Lord High Chancellor, attached
to legal documents, &c., are, strictly speaking, sealing-
war, and the term has thence been tranferred to the
substance of which we have treated. It is prepared
by melting block white wax in about one-fourth of
its weight of Venice turpentine, and adding a suf-
ficient quantity of vermilion for a red colour, or ver-
digris (carbonate of copper) for green. The wax
is then poured on a marble slab, and formed into
large rolls. Respecting the choice of colour for wax
for these purposes, Mr. Fosbrooke remarks, ‘“ The
emperors of Germany used the white from Otho I. to
Frederick IV., as well as the dukes, prelates, counts,
&c., to the thirteenth century. After that the use of it
was rare, especially out of Germany. Frederick IV.
ranted it as a privilege toa duke of Modena. ‘The
kings of Great Britain preferred white down to Charles I.
Mabillon confuted those who place the use of yellow
wax before the twelfth century. Madox mentions it
amone us. Red wax too much resembles the purple
and cinnabar of the ancient emperors not to occur in
the earliest periods. From the Constantinopolitan em-
perors it passed to Frederick Barbarossa. Our Wil-
liam Rufus used it, and it was common in all orders.
The emperors and patriarchs of the East used green
wax, but the custom in F'rarice does not appear to ex-
ceed the twelfth century. ‘The Black Prince used it.
In England it was confined to commissions and char-
ters. Blue wax is very rare. Black occurs among the
patriarchs of the East, some nobles, the grand master
of the ‘Teutonic and Maltese Orders, and occasionally
ii France in the thirteenth century. Mixed colours
are more common. ‘There are some where the border
differs from the middle, &c. In the fourteenth century
green wax was bordered with yellow *,”
An inferior kind of sealing-wax, such we believe as
is hawked about the streets of London, is made by
substituting common resin for the lac, red lead for the
yermilion, and common turpentine for that of Venice.
* “Encyclopedia of Antiquities, p. 248.
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
437.
Imposition is also practised by softening these sticks
of inferior wax between two fires, and then rolling them
in powdered wax of a better quality. The sticks are
again softened to melt this false coating, and to give
the wax a final polish. For inferior black wax, lamp
black is employed instead of ivory black.
In concluding this subject we may state, that wafers
(which were first used to secure letters, &c., in 1624)
are made of flour, white of egg, isinglass, and yeast.
These ingredients are mixed and then beaten to paste,
thinned with gum-water, and spread out on an even
thin plate; after which they are dried in a stove, and
finally cut into the proper shape for use.
WOODEN HOUSES, AND THE MANNER OF
BUILDING THEM.
{From a Correspondent. }
In the interior of America, the colonies of Great Britain
included, the houses are commonly built of wood; but
even in wooden houses there are three distinct varieties,
namely, frame, block, and log houses. Frame-houses
are considered superior to either of the other two, and
are seldom erected at the commencement of a new
settlement, except by persons who are “pretty well to
do in the world.” The term frame is so comprehensive
that a lone explanation seems wholly unnecessary ; for
a building of this character consists of stout upright
posts at the corners, with numerous scantlings in the
intermediate spaces, and connecting timbers above and
below; while a thin coating of boards on the outside
and another on the inside—or else lath and plaster,—is
all that is requisite for the frame-work of the building.
The roof is formed by nailing boards transversely npon
rafters, over which shingles made of cedar or pine are
afterwards placed. Houses of this order, painted white,
with green Venetian window-shutters, have a very
pleasing appearance. But they labour under peculiar
disadvantages from their unsubstantial character, and
are peculiarly liable to the action of extreme heat or
cold. With proper care a frame building will probably
last forty years; at fifty it would evidently come under
the appellation of ‘ old.”
The next in order are block-houses, which are built
of blocks, or squared logs of timber. They are by no
means so generally met with as either frame or loe-
houses, although their appearance is decidedly superior
to the latter, and their capability of resisting cold and
heat greatly exceeds the former. These buildings are
nearly as costly as frame ones, for the timber of which
they are built has first to be hewn, or squared, which
is rather an expensive process. When built of hand-
somely-hewn blocks, the building has a solid and sub-
stantial appearance; but if great care is not taken the
bottom blocks begin to decay in a few years. ‘The
greatest objection alleged against a block building is
the liability the walls have to warp; for when a con-
tinuance of rainy weather is succeeded by a few dry
and hot days, the action of the sun upon the blocks
causes them to swerve from the straight lines they
originally formed. Were it not for this, they would be
the most comfortable of all wooden houses.
The erection of an ordinary log-house, such as the
first settlers—the pioneers of the American wilderness
live in, is easily accomplished; for the people but
seldom take the trouble to bark the logs, neither are
they very particular respecting their size and suitable-
ness. The person intending to build a house of this
character prepares a spot by removing all obstructions,
and then cuts down as many trees as he calculates will
supply the requisite number of logs, of the dimensicns
he may think the best suited to his purpose. After he
has cut them into proper lengths, lie next, with the
assistance of oxen, drags them as near as may be con-
| venient to the proposed site of the building. Having
438
himself performed this much, he then goes round to
the respective abodes of the nearest settlers, and invites
some twenty or thirty of them to assemble on a par-
ticular afternoon (for it requires but a few hours in
which to erect a house in the backwoods), when a few
loose stones (if any present themselves) are piled up at
the corners; or, if stones are scarce, rude clumps of
wood are substituted, and upon these insecure supports
the bottom logs are placed. On occasions of this
nature it would be considered unpardonable for the
invited settlers to permit any business of their own to
interfere with their attendance at the time and place
appointed. ‘The company having assembled, some
cider and whiskey are handed round to such as choose
them ; and a“ captain” having been chosen by mutual
consent, whose directions they implicitly obey, the
regniar business of the day is forthwith proceeded in.
Uhe two side-logs are first placed upon the supports at
the corners, and their ends having been properly
notched for the reception of the cross or end logs, they
in their tnrn are properly placed and fitted accordingly.
Then again a couple of side ones, and alternately a pair
of end ones, the extremity of each log being so notched
that it is impossible they should separate or slide
asunder. While the walls are low there is little
dificulty in placing the logs; but as they become
higher, stout “skids” (poles) are employed upon which
the logs are rolled to the proper height, preparatory to
their being properly notehed and placed. If proper
attention has heen paid to the size of the logs as
the building progressed, the largest or thickest ones
wili have been placed at the bottom of the building,
and the smallest ones at the top. But this is not
always the case, the American backwoodsmen not
being very particular in matters of this sort, nor do
they pay much attention to appearances within or with-
out their log-dwellings.
After the fonr sides have been raised to the height
proposed, probably thirteen or fourteen fect, poles of
the necessary length and stoutness are placed as rafters,
being fastened with wooden pins to the nppermost log
on each side, and spliced and pinned together where
their upper extremities meet. As there is no practicable
way of securing logs for the gables of the building,
these openings are enclosed with bark or planks at
some convenient opportunity ; for this matter is not
considered as belonging to the general business of
the day.
The “raising ” being over, the party is regaled with
such simple fare as the owner of the new building has
been able to provide; and having handed round the
cider and whiskey-jne@ until drained dry, without further
ceremony the party separates.
The remainder of the work can be perforined by the
occupier of this log-built mansion; and the first thing
he proceeds to do is that of cutting holes in the walls
for a door, and-a window or two. Next comes the
shingling, or roofing, and the closing in of the gable-
ends,—and then the erection of a rude chimney, which
is a work of no ordinary magnitude. If the mansion
be sufficiently capacious to admit of it, the chimney is
erected within one end of the building; but if it be
rather small, the end logs are cut out to the extent of
a large fire-place, and then the chimney is built owéside
of the wall. Where the logs have been selected with
little care, the walls require a good deal of “ chunking,”
that is, fillmg in between the logs with such irregular
pieces of timber as seem the best suited to the purpose ;
and after the seams have been ‘“‘chunked” within,
they require stopping with moss, or plastering with
clay, without. When a rude door has been mate, and
the window or windows glazed, then it is considered
ready for the reception of the family; but it often hap-
pens that doors and windows are uot forthcoming when
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
[NovemeBsr I],
new residence. As the circumstances of the family
improve, the comfort of the building may be expected
to improve also; for then a floor overhead will be laid,
the room ceiled or wainscoted, and in all probability a
better foundation will be placed under the logs, which
at the beginning were supported only at the angles of
the building. Sometimes the log-houses are large
enough to admit of being divided into two apartments ;
and there are some few which are really neat and com-
fortable. The exterior, however, is still rude, for there
is no disguising the character of the original; and
whatever embellishments may be bestowed upon it,
after all, it is but a dog-building.
According to the kind and quality of the timber of
which these buildings are constructed, and the degree
of care and attention bestowed upon them in order to
preserve them from the influence of a variable climate,
these originals generally continue habitable from twenty
to forty years. At the expiration of either period it is
probable that they will have passed into new hands;
for they must indeed be sorry managers whose circum-
stances will not enable them to rear more respectable
habitations long before their old ones are no longer
tenantable.
In travelling through the older settlements, you fre-
quently may observe rude and irregular columns of
stone, of fifteen or tweuty feet in height, standing naked
and solitary in the middle of some enclosnre, or waste
plece of ground. These are the chimneys that have
originally belonged to some humble log-dwelling ; but
from some cause or other the inhabitants have deserted
it, and during the dry season fire has been applied,
either by accident or design, so that every vestige of the
building has disappeared except the pile of stones which
composed the chimney. ‘These are the only ruins you
meet with in America.
lfethod of Reading.—Every man should keep minutes
of whatever he reads. Every circumstance of his studies
should be recorded—what books he has consulted; how
much of them he has read; at what times; how often the
same authors; and what opinions he formed of them, at
different periods of his life. Such an account would much
illustrate the history of his mind.—Bosweld.
Mud Baths.—Of every other species of bath they are
certainly the most novel. fancy a stagnant lake, of some
extent, the greatest part composed of mud, where you see a
multitude of heads (the whole of the bathers are buried to
the chin), smoking, eating, drinking, laughing, singing,
and moaning, altogether forming a scene the most comic
imaginable. They remain in their muddy prison for about
an hour, when another scene takes place which baffles
description. We then see the lake give forth its temporary
inhabitants, composed of persons of all ages; some running,
some hobbling on crutches, on their way to wash them-
selves in a clearer part of the Jake, each carrying on a long
pole his wearing apparel; but it is their darkened bodies,
covered with mud, and cadaverous countenances, tliat realise
every idea you might form of the resurrection of the dead,—
Spencers Travels in Circassia.
ROYAL VISITS TO THE CITY OF LONDON.
A procession is a kind of living panorama, which
hardly the dullest or most fastidious eye can regard
with entire indifference. We, indeed, in these latter
and more refined days, have come to look upon ordinary
“Tord Mayors’ Shows” with a sort of contemptuous
toleration, as if they existed merely on the score of
ancient usage, and for the amusement of youth. Still,
the old spirit is in the multitude, if any procession or
show is about to take place, in which the actors are of
the higher order. Yet we can bunt little appreciate the
zest with which our ancestors enjoyed these affairs.
the family of a backwoodsman take possession of their | Knowing nothing of newspapers, and hardly anything
1837.]
of books: living in wooden houses, and walking over
rough unpaved streets; with but few sources of amuse-
ment, and their attention undistracted by the thonsaud
conveniences and cheap luxuries which civilization has
spread over the surface of society, our London fore-
fathers rushed to the ‘‘ Chepe*,” as if with one heart,
to see the numerous civic or royal “ Ridings,” as the
processions were fitly enough called when uot even
a state-coach existed. On royal visits, especially,
every thing was done to “ @lorifie the daye,” and
delight the people. Conduits running wine; streets
~ cleene dressed,” aud houses hune: with * ryche clothe
of golde, velvette, and silke;” triumphal arches and
“marvailous cunnyne pageantes,” were all calculated
to cause the bulk of the people, amid the monotony of
existence, to look forward to the scenes with excited an-
ticipation, and to remember them with pleasure. But
even then, if we may draw such an inference from
Chaucer, there were philosophers and economists who
measured processions by the test of utility; for he sets
it down as one of the most prominent characteristics of
a dissolute and idle apprentice, that
‘* Whan ther any riding was in Chepe,
Out of the shoppe thider would he lepe,
And till that he had all the sight ysein,
And danced well, he would not come agein.”’
The monarchs of Eneland, since the time of William
the Conqueror, have always studied more or less to
eratify the citizens of London by exhibiting themselves
in processions. In early times it was usual for the
lord mayor, aldermen, and “ crafts,” to go out and
meet the King on his return from any important expe-
dition. Queens, also, on their first arrival in this conn-
try, were usually met in great state and escorted through
the city by the civic authorities. But the grandest day
of all was the one preceding a coronation, when the
King, with his court, proceeded from the Tower,
through Cheapside, Fleet Street, and the Strand, to
Westminster. So keenly was this day enjoyed, that
when the ceremony was omitted on the coronation of
James I., on account of the plague, the good citizens
were so much disappointed that the King had to gratify
them by a procession in the following year, 1604. In
an account of the “‘magnificent entertainment given
to King James and Queen Anne his wife, and Henry
Frederick the prince, upon the daye of His Majestie’s
triumphant passage from the Tower through his honour-
able citie of. London,’ there is an amusing description
of the excitement of the people. The author,’ after
mentioning the erection of triumphal arches, scaffold-
ines, &c., says, “‘’Ihe day for whose sake these wonders
of woode clymhbe thus into the clouds is now come;
being so early up, by reason of artificial lights which
awakened it, that the sunne overslepte himselfe, and
rose not in many hours after, yet bringing with it into
the very bosome of the citie a world of people. The
streets seemed to be paved with men; stalles, instead of
rich wares, were set out for children; open casements
filled up with women. All glasse windowes taken
downe, but in their place sparkled so many eyes, that,
had it not been the day, the light which reflected from
them was sufficient to have made one. He that should
have compared the emptie and untrodden walkes of
London which were to be seene in that late mortally
destroying deluge [the plague] with the thronged
streets now, might have believed that this day began
a new creation, and that the citie was the only work-
house wherein sundrie nations were made.”’
Nichols, in his ‘ Progresses of Queen Elizabeth,’ has
printed “ The Passage of our most drad Soveraigne
* The whole street, now called Cheapside, occupies the place
of what was long the chief thoroughfare of London, Orizinally,
the name was apphed to the houses on the side of the “ Chepe,”
or market,
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
439
Lady Quene Elizabeth throgh the Cittie of London to
Westminster, the daye before her coronation.’ On
this occasion the queen “‘marched from the Towre, to
passe throgh the citie of London towarde Westminster,
richly furnished, and most honourably accompanied, as
well with gentlemen, barons, and other the nobilitie of
this realme, as also with a notable trayne of eoodly and
beawtifulle ladies, richly appoynted. And entering the
cilie, was of the people receyved marveylous entirely,
as appeared from the assembhe, prayers, wishes, wel-
comming's, cryes, tender woordes, and all other signes,
which argue a wonderfull earnest love of most obedient
subjectes towards theyr sovereigne. And on the other
seyde, her grace, by holding up her handes, and merie
countenance, to such as stode farre of, and most tender
and gentle language to those that stode nigh to her
orace, did declare herself no lesse thankfullye to receyve
her people’s good wylle, than they lovingly offered it tc
her.’ A number of allegorical personages, stationed
at different places on her progress, saluted her with
complimentary effusions, in prose and rhyme, and in
Latin and English. Asking what one of them repre-
seuted, she was told it was Time. ‘“ Tyme?” quoth
she, “and Tyme hath brought me hether!” Another,
Truth, not inappropriately represented by a child, pre-
sented her with a Bible. ‘‘ As she wente down toward
Fletebridee, one about her grace noted the cities charge,
that there was no cost spared. Her erace answered,
that she did well consyder the same, and that it shoulde
be remembred.” Another incident is recorded which
marks her character. ‘‘ About the nether ende of
Cornehyll, towarde Cheape, one of the knights aboute
her grace had espyed an auncient citizen which wepte,
and turned his heade backe, and therewith said this
oventlieman, ‘ Yonder is an alderman (for so he tearmed
him) which weepeth, and turneth his face backwarde—
how may it be interpreted, that he doth so for sorrowe
or for gladnes?’? ‘The Qneene’s majestie hearde hym,
and said, ‘I warrant you it is for gladnes.’ <A e@racious
interpretation of a noble courage, which woulde turne
the doubtful to the best. And yet it was well known,
that, as her grace did confirme the same, the partie’s
cheare was moved for very pure gladnes for the sighte
of her majestie’s person, at the beholding whereof he
toke such comforte, that with teares he expressed the
same.”
Formerly the practice was, instead of feasting the
monarch and court at Guildhall, to make some valuable
present, either in plate or in money, which was eene-
rally presented by the recorder in the name of the
“city.” But the presentation of a diamond, a gold cup,
or a sum of money, was gradually given up, and in
their place have come invitations to entertainments at
Guildhall. Charles II. dined very frequently with the
citizens during his reign—frequently on Lord Mayor's
day, when he and the royal family sometimes occupied
a balcony in Cheapside to see the Lord Mayor’s Show.
It is since his reign that the practice has grown up of
inviting the reigning sovereign to Guildhall on the
first Lord Mayor's day after the accession; this is a
substitute for the former procession through the city on
the day previous to the coronation.
The increase and improvement of dramatic entertain-
ments, and the spread of general intelligence, gradually
destroyed the taste for pageants, the preparation and
performance of which used to be such a source of enter-
tainment to the ruder and less sophisticated “ public”
of a former time. Sovereiens on passing through the
city are now no longer hailed by Time, ‘Truth, or
Fame; nay, Gow and Magog hardly ever venture
abroad even on an ordinary Lord Mayor's day, for if
they do, the tottering giants are sure to be greeted with
a universal burst of laughter. The conduits ran wine,
| however, so late as Jast century. On the entry of
440
George I. into the city, on his arrival from the continent
on the death of Anne, in the order of the procession, it
is stated, ‘‘ During the whole proceeding, the conduits
at Stocks-market [the site of which is now occupied by
the Mansion House] and other parts of the city are to
run with wine as usual.” ‘* Such,” says Malcolm, “‘ was
the eagerness evinced on this occasion, that seats were
erected in every situation where it was possible the King
could be seen, and the balconies in Cheapside, Corn-
hill, &c. were let for twenty and thirty wuineas each.”
Besides the conduits ‘“‘ running wine” there were some
other remains of the old ceremonial observed. ‘“ The
several companies of London, with their ensigns, are to
line the streets on both sides, from tlie Stocks-market
to St. Paul’s Churchyard ; at the east end whereof the
children of Christ’s Hospital are to stand, and one of
the king’s boys make a speech to His Majesty.” Soon
after this, the King witnessed the annual ceremony of
the Lord Mayor’s Show from the balcony of a Mr.
Taylor, a linen-draper in Cheapside. In return for his
‘civility,’ the Kine offered to knight him, but the
gentleman, being a member of the Society of Friends,
declined the honour.
George II. with the Queen and Princesses, in 1727,
viewed the Lord Mayor’s Show from a balcony near
Bow Church, and afterwards dined with the citizens at
Guildhall. George III. and Queen Charlotte, in 1761,
repeated this practice. The Entertainment Committee
of the city say, in their report on this occasion, ‘* Their
Majesties having expressed their royal inclinations to
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see the procession of the Lord Mayor to Guildhall, the
cominittee obtained Mr. Barclay’s house in Cheapside
for that purpose, where proper refreshments were pro-
vided, and every care taken to accommodate their Ma-
jesties with a full view of the whole cavalcade.’ The
entertainment in the evening cost 6898/. In lieu of
conduits running wine, “‘ the populace were in some
instances regaled with beer round a bonfire,” and other-
wise amused with illuminations and fireworks.
A somewhat striking observation is recorded of
George III. Asking Sir W. Beechy if he had seen the
grand procession to St. Paul’s in honour of naval
victories, the painter replied that he had obtained a fine
view of the whole line from a window on Ludgate Hill.
To which the King replied, ‘* Then you had the ad-
vantage of me, for I saw only the coachman and his
horses.”
Of civic entertainments to royal personages in our
day, that in 1814 to the Prince Regent and the allied
sovereigns must be familiar to most readers, from the
frequent allusions to it in the newspapers and other
periodical works. It was certainly a magnificent affair,
and has been referred to as a pattern for the one in
honour of the accession of Queen Victoria. This last
may be more fitly described by the newspapers than in
our little work, which sedulously avoids trespassing in
the slightest degree upon the province of the journalist.
We have appended to this slight sketch of royal
visits an engraving of the new triumphal arch at the
Queen’s Palace. |
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Printed by W1LL1am CLowes and Sons, Stamford Street,
THE PENNY MAGAZ
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[Valley of Setubal. }
THERE is notpart of the Peninsula which presents a
greater diversity of character in its scenery than the
immediate neighbourhood of Setubal, or St. Ubes.
The town itself, which is situated on the shores of a
deep bay or arm of the sea about thirty miles south of
Lisbon, possesses little worthy of remark beyond the
beauty of the surrounding landscape. The natives
attribute the foundation of Setubal to Tubal, the son
of Lamech. It is however certain, that a city of anti-
quity once occupied the site, or nearly so, of the pre-
sent town. Greek and Roman as well as Phoenician
remains are frequently due up, and the island of 'Troya,
on the opposite side of the bay, still presents the ruins
of some ancient buildings. The great earthquake which
Jaid Lisbon in ruins, swallowed up many of those re-
mains Of antiquity whose solidity had hitherto with-
stood the slow but certain waste of time. What few
relics have remained serve only to preserve traditions
as vague as they are unsatisfactory. The Portuguese
historians ascribe the foundation of the town to Ulysses,
What remains exist are constructed of small stones,
united with a cement as hard as granite, which indeed
they somewhat resemble. ‘The upper stories have been
swept away by the great convulsions of nature, whose
traces are everywhere visible throughout Portugal ; but
the solidity of these lower chambers, and the smallness
Vou. VI.
—
of their size, seem to have preserved them preity entire
They consist of one and occasionally two compartments,
of an oblong square form, about twelve feet long by
eight broad, and about seven feet deep; they lave
neither windows nor doors, and the floors are composed
of the same strong cement and stone as the walls, which
are nearly three feet thick. Some of these curious
cellars have been transposed in a curious manner by
the earthquakes before mentioned; one end being lifted
up on the higher bank, entire, like a square box, with
one end resting on a stone, while two others, leaning
outward, seem ready to slide into the sea in opposite
directions. :
The island, or rather the peninsula, on which these
ruins stand is of a singular form, and extends along the
outside of the bay like a long wall, covering the harbour
on every side, the entrance being very narrow. All
the rivers of the Peninsula are obstructed more or
less by bars, the sandy nature of the soil over which
they pass being peculiarly adapted for these formations.
The river Ludao, though not so large as many others,
yet passes over the sandy levels of the Alemtejo, and
has carried down the soil to the bay of Setubal in such
quantities as to have closed the harbour almost entirely,
the opening in the bar being extremely small. This
bar joins the island of Troya on one side, the sea on
3 1
442
either side being of a great depth. On the main land,
and at the foot of a high and precipitous cape, stands
ine fort Outao, a strong fortification, placed so as to
close the harbour against any naval force. This cape,
which forms tlie western point of the bay, is part of the
range of the Arabida mountains, in which is erected
the large and beautiful convent of the same name.
The Serra d’ Arabida extends from cepe Espichel to
the ‘Tagus, and covers the entire neck of land from
Setubal to Moita; it is on one of these mountains that
Palmella town and castle stands, which town is visible
from its extreme elevation for many leagues around,
and is distinctly seen from Lisbon, a distance of twenty
miles. Jt stands upon the top of an isolated mountain,
which rising gradually from the plain to the castle
that crowns its summit, falls suddenly on the opposite
side. It is on this steep ascent that the hich road to
Lisbon is formed; and notwithstanding the filthiness of
Palimella, the wretchedness of the hovels called inns,
and the badness and dearness of everything to be had,
the traveller finds a few moments’ rest a luxury, which
can only be appreciated by those who have ascended
a steep mountain road, beneath a burning southern
sun. ‘Lhe Castle of Palmella contains nothing worthy
of a moment’s pause; but it commands boundless view
of mountain and valley, land and sea, all mingled toge-
ther in one wide expanse of beauty and grandeur. To
the northward the horizon*is bounded by the bald peaks
of the Cintra mountains, whose variewated and bean-
iiful forms are admirably seen from any point of view ;
beneath these the capital of Portugal, with its domes
aud turrets @litteriag in the sunshine; the noble
‘Lagus, rolling his mighty tide to the sea; the vast
Atlantie sweeping a line of coast of thirty leawues in
extent; the monntains of Arabida towards the west,
with all the varied alternations of precipice and valley,
of thickly wooded ascent and bald bare peaks. ‘To-
wards the south the lovely bay of Setubal, with its lone
island and picturesque town. ‘To the east the sandy
plains of Alemtejo, with many a stream winding its
peaceful way to the Tagus or to the sea; all these
objects combined form a panorama of the most diver-
sified and impressive character. The beautiful valley,
represented in our vignette, is that which lies at the
foot of the hill Palmella, and through which the high
road passes. The ereat royal forest of the Alemtejo
covers this valley, as indeed it does the neighbouring
mountains, to the sea, and the intervening valleys to the
Tag us.
cipal wood of the forest); the frequent recurrence of
the aloe, with its rigid leaves and golden flower; and
the singular forms of the prickly-pear, give an appear-
ance pecuiiarly foreign to scenery sufficiently beautiful
to fill with admiration the lovers of nature. But, un-
fortunately, the inhabitants of these lovely scenes seem
unconscious of the charms by which they are snr-
rounded, The peasantry who dwell on the borders of
the forest admire its shade and its intricacies only as a
means of seizing the uuwary traveller, whom they fre-
quently plunder withont mercy. There is a remark-
ably fine pine-tree abont half-way between Moita and
Palinella, on the Lisbon road,.well known to the euer-
rillas and ladrones of the forest; some few dozens
having been executed on its widely spreading branches.
Robberies however are not now so frequent as formerly
in this forest, a more vigilant police, the. constant
movement of troops from “place to place and in every
direction, and the garrison of Palmella Castle have
done much to ensure the safety of the passenger; bnt
the state of the peasantry must be much ameliorated,
before industry and persevering labour in the honest
avocations of life, willbe substituted for the precarious
and degrading gains of crime.
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
he peculiar character of the pines (the prin-.
[NovemBer 18,
THE QUICKSILVER MINES AT IDRIA, IN
AUSTRIA.
Tse mines of Idria are situated in Carniola, a province
of Anstrian Illyria, on the confines of Tene and Frinl,
and about ten leagnes from Laybach, celebrated for the
peace of 1801, and the conference of the continental
powers in 1821. This town is bnilt at the junction of
three valleys, watered by three torrents, which fall into
the river Idrizza. Althongeh the temperature is not
very low, the snow remains on the ground for almost
five months, and is sometimes so abundant as to block
up the roads.
Ta the fourteenth century the country was a desert,
and belonged to the bishops of Salzburg, who ceded it
to the republic of Venice. The nine was not discovered
till 1497. It was then worked with little success by a
Venetian mining company. It was only | in 1573 that
the Archduke of Austria purchased it. Since that
period its prosperity has been constantly increasing, in
consequence of the judicious system of working adopted
init. As soon as the archduke got possession of the
country, he granted various privileges to the miners,
such as exemption from the duties to which the other
landed proprietors and their servants were exposed, and
even from military services.
The town of Idria holds the first rank in the free
mining cities of the Austrian empire, and has a popu-
lation of nearly 4000 inhabitants. There is an air of
regularity and cleanliness which speaks much in favour
of the administration of the place; while the manners
ofthe inhabitants present a singular contrast with those
of the larger and more busy towns of commerce in
England and in France.
The authority rests with a council, which is composed
of a director-general and president, a comptroller of
accounts, who “performs the duties of the commissary of
the emperor, a chief clerk, and four councillors, taken
from the directors of the different works. To these is
added a bailiff, who is at the head of the law, police, and
public instruction. ‘The whole town and country of Idria
is under the control of this council, which is itself under
the control of the council of mines in Vienna, as the
supreme board for the regulation of all matters con-
nected with mining towns and mines in the whole
Austrian empire. AI] other mines in the Illyrian pro-
vinces, except those of Idria, are under the jurisdiction
of a similar board at Klag@enfurt. The council has its
own guard, police, churches, and hospitals. It pays
the salaries.to the ministers of the churches, as well
as {o the teachers and functionaries of the schools.
Although the aim of the administration is fiscal, as its
purpose is directed to the increase of the revennes of the
crown, it is not the less just and prudent. Its recu-
lations are framed in a wise spirit of order and amelio-
ration, and embrace questions of minor details which,
in a great many countries, the higher public officers are
found to neglect too much, but in which, here, even
the members of the imperial family, no less than the
eovernment, do not disdain to interfere.
The soil of the country is little fitted for agriculture.
The administration provides for the subsistence of the
inhabitants: it imports food from the nearest markets
and distributes it to the heads of families at a price,
which is sometimes only half of what it costs in the very
place where it was bought. This is necessary, as it is
thought desirable to preserve the steady rate of the
salaries ; hence the value of labour has varied very little
indeed for a long time. The rate is low ‘and the wages
are small, but ‘the infirm, the invalid, the sick, the
widows and orphans, have a right to a pension; the
expenses of which amount annually to about 35,00
florins—viz., 3,5002.
The children of both sexes are gratuitously instruct
1837.]
in the schools. The boys are taught the German
language, reading, writing, and arithmetic; the girls
are taught in addition, needle-work and household
affairs. For the youths who have distinguished them-
selves in the primary schools, a mathematical school is
established where drawing and mineralogy are taught.
This security for the future, torether with the regu-
larity of employment, and the holidays so frequent in
Catholic countries, have hitherto operated satisfactorily,
and the people are in much content and happiness.
espite the unhealthiness of their occupations, the
population has continued to increase; for as there is no
want of food, the strongest check to population is not
felt. With the view of procuring work for those who
are not employed in the mines or smelting houses, in-
dustrial establishments have been formed, where women
aud children are principally employed. ‘Thus the ne-
céssaries of life are provided for every class: nor is there
a single bege@ar to be met with. Abont half of the
territory of ‘Tdria has been alienated by grants from
the crown; the remainder is still the property of the
emperor. ‘A considérale portion of the neighbouring
forests is set apart for, the working of the mines, aiid
likewise for the use of the Iniliers, as firing, at home;
they being permitted to cut down a cerfain quantity of
wood near their residence. |
The geological character of the couutry is calcareous,
and appears to be of the same formation as the Tulian
Alps. The mineral deposit seems to be accumulated
where the three valleys unite; the town having been
built immediately over it, and contains the principal
opening into the mine; the quicksilver, however, is
very irregularly distributed. The works do not occupy
any considerable spacé. They are about 1420 yards
long, 1200 wide, and from 270 to upwards of 300 deep.
Four shafts serve for the extraction of the ore, and for
drawing off the water. 'The whole mine is divided into
seveli or eight stories, which communicate with the
shafts by means of calleries. The richness of the veins
varies very considerably, for they are frequently inter-
sected with particles of schist. It is difficult to give
an account of the disposition anid succession of the
layers, for they are in no regular order.
layers, undulated and twisted (7 eployées) i in every direc-
tion, are cut by masses which are sometimes breccia
and sometimes puddingstone.
The fluid quicksilver is rarely met with, and then
only by accident. It therefore presents no jhofive for
working, as it yields not more than from 150 to 200
pounds annually. The richest ore is the sulphuret of
mercury, and is met with in two principal varieties ; one
of a red brown colour upon the surface, Somewhat like
the hematite of iron, but breaking with a bluish fric-
ture; the second is equally rich, but more brilliant.
There are found also, but very rarely, the following
varieties :—Ist, sulphuret of mercury crystallized, ex-
hibiting the rough outlines of octahedrons, but only in
grains; 2nd, sulphuret of mercury of a biick- red colour ;
3rd, attire of a liver colonr, in little veis of a ‘tae
liant red, emitting when rubbed an odour like that of
sulphuretted hydrogen ; Ath, bituminous sulpliuret of
mercury, which is dark, aid of which the specific
gravity 1s little more than that of water.
The Strata which contain these different species of
minerals consist principally of chalk, either in masses
or in little layers, the érey schist with undulating flakes,
and the black shinine schist. They all follow tlie dis.
position of the layers, and confain cinnabar, which has
sometimes a reticulated form. In some parts of the
fich est. inclose fossils and fluviatile shells, either broken
or compressed, some of which are almost microscopic.
The entrance to the mines is In the town itself, and
forms & considerable building, int which the miners and
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
richer divisions.
An infinity of
z
443
workmen assemble at a roll-call, say prayers with so-
lemnity, and receive their tools and materials for lights.
A loug gallery forms a part of this building, at the end
of which there is a simple and becoming chapel. The
descent into the mine is by ten or twelve staircases of
stone, to the depth of about 130 yards ; the remainder
of the subterranean journey is performed by means of
wooden staircases. The galleries of the different stories
are made of stone, and have the form of elliptical arches ;
most of them, which are of brick-work, are intended to
prevent the earth from falling in.
The miners are divided into three gangs; the first
commence diity at noon, and leave leave off at eivht, P.M. ;
the second ee from eicht to four, A.M.; and if. Mird
from four, A.M.,to noon. After his ei@ht hours of work,
the miner tidy dispose of the rest of his time for the
culture of the ground, or in any other manner he pleases.
There are some parts of the mines in which the miners
catinot remain lone under ground, from the state of the
atmosphere, or from the metallic exhalations; in some
instances they are obliged to be relieved every two hours,
and notwithstanding all precautions, it often happens
that the nervous system of the workman Is so suddenly
attacked; that on coming out of the mine he is seized
with an uitiversal trembling. These accidents happen
especially through the sweeping of the small mine-
stoves, and the symptoms are accompanied by an ex-
cessive Salivation. ‘The tremor becomes sometimes in-
curable, and the unhappy workman has to be placed on
the pension list. A third part only cf the miners are
employed upon the extraction of the ore, and the other
two for the discovery of it.
In some of thé works the heat is from 20° to 28°
Reaumier (79° to 95° Fahrenheit), and 1§ ereatesf in the
The air ha§ no sensible current, there
is no disengagement of any deleterious gas, and no
instance has occurred of sndden death occasioned by
yee agencies. ‘The mineral mass as well-as the works
e perfectly dry. The springs, which are carefully
p= ote unite their waters at the bottom of the shafts,
froni whence they are pumped up. There is no inoisture
except in these shafts and in the upper galleries, where
the air from the outside deposits on the walls the water
with which it is charged. ‘This heat and dryness pro-
duces sometimes very fatal accidents. In 1803, the
woodwork of the mines caught fire, and it could not be
extinguished except by turning the waters of the little
river Nicoua into it. In the conflagration several
miners lost their lives, ard the establishment recovered
from the difficulties into which it was thus thrown, and
were enabled to resume their works, only after six
months of contmued exertion.
The smelting furnaces of Idria yield in general
40,000 to 50,000 pounds of mercury monthly; of
which nearly the sixth part Is converted into cinnabar
or vermilion, into corrosive sublimate and into red
precipitate. The preparations of {dria are of creat
excellence; the vermilion is equal to that of China,
and surpasses that of Holland.
Within these few days it has been stated in the public
papers that the works have been entirely stopped, in con-
sequence of a sudden and ruinous inundation of water.
' Peace:—Peace is the chief good of a commercial, and
indeed of every people. European nations, with all thet
improvements in civilization, are still too near the savage
state while they terminate their contests by war. Nothing
but self-défeticé can justify it. And if those who decree
that it shall take place, under any circumstances but the
necessity of self-defence, were compelled to go into the field
mine, the strata, as well as the ore ifself, even the ‘in person, it is probable that national disputes would be
settled by the intervention of neutral powers, and the sword
converted into the ploughshare. ‘To avoid war, the direst
calamity of human nature, should be the chief object of
eyery humane man and wise minister,— /icesimus ‘ae
SL 2
444
(November 15,
A LOOKING-GLASS FOR LONDON.—No. XXV.
FuNERALS AND CEMETERIES.
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(The Strand—Churches of St. Mary-le-Strand and St. Clement Danes, with Front of Somerset House. |
THe modes in winch funerals are conducted in different
parts of the United Kingdom are, to a certain extent,
indicative of provincial characteristics. An Enelish
country churchyard may be rude, and its tombstones
covered with epitaphs which do not display much literary
taste or skill; yet there is a something about an English
funeral, when conducted in the old-fashioned E:nelish
country manner,’ calculated, from the combination of
simplicity and seriousness, to stir the heart, Words-
worth has described one :—
“¥rom out the heart
Of that profound abyss a solemn voice,
Or several voices in one solemn sound,
Was heard, ascending: mournful, deep, and slow
The cadence, as of psalms—a funeral dirge!
We lstened, looking down towards the hut,
But seeing no one: meanwhile from below
he stra continued, spirntual as before ;
And now distinctly could I recognise
These words—‘ Shall in the grave thy love be known,
In death thy faithfulness ! ’—‘ God rest his soul!’
The wanderer cried, abruptly breaking silence,
‘He is departed, and finds peace at last!’
This scarcely spoken, and those holy strains
Not ceasing, forth appeared in view a band
Of rustic persons, from behind the hut
Bearing a coffin in the midst, with which
They shaped their course along the sloping side
Of that small valley; singing as they moved ;
A sober company and few, the men
Bareheaded, and all decently attired!”
A Scotch funeral, like the general Scotch character, is
quiet, decent, carefully performed, and striking, from the
uniformity with which the relatives and friends attend-
ing are clothed, not in cloaks, or with sashes or bands,
but in suits of black, with hat-bands of crape, and strips
of cambric turned up on the cuffs of the coat, techni-
cally termed weepers. But to an English mind a Scotch
funeral is deficient in impressiveness, arising from there
being no funeral service performed over the grave.
This is in some measure obviated by the solicitude
which the Scotch of all classes display, in securing the
presence of a clergyman amongst the other friends and
relatives, and who offers up prayers in the apartment
where the company are assembled, previous to the pro-
cession setting out for the churchyard. ‘The Rev. C.
Otway, in describing a funeral which he witnessed in
the churchyard of Glasgow Cathedral, says, “ The
funeral was as orderly as the place to which it was
tending; the hearse, a sort of close pannelled ark, all
its compartments painted with well executed scriptural
representations; all the relatives and acquaintances of
the deceased following on foot, with perfectly new black
clothing, large white cuffs, called weepers, to their coats;
in solemn line, and by twos or threes, they followed the
coffin to the grave, and without any service read, or
exhortation uttered, the body was consigned to its
earth; and while all others in the same silent order re-
turned from the tomb, a few of the nearest relatives
remained, to cast over the coffin the white ribbon orna-
ments or cords with which they lowered it into the
erave, and to see the clay closed over the tenant’s tomb.
During this decent rite I stood aloof, observing that
none but the friends of the deceased followed in the
procession; there was no rush of idle strangers towards
the grave.” The etiquette of Scotch funerals carefully
excludes the presence of females, even that of the
nearest relatives.
An Irish country funeral is a remarkable thing. If
the deceased has been at all known and respected—
especially if he has been a clergyman—the concourse
that precedes and follows the bier both in cars and on
horse and foot is immense. The stopping and solemn
repetition of prayers at cross roads—the deep, slow,
modulated chant known as the Irish cry or wludu—the
long, sweeping procession-men, women, and children,
in every kind of garb,—all strike the mind of the Eng-
lishman or the Scotchman as something wild and
singular, yet imposing. But a funeral in such a city as
1837,]
Dublin is very different.
it is too frequently a cold ceremony,—a string of car-
riages following the coffin to the grave. Amongst the
lower classes, again, it is too frequently a scene offensive
to ones notions of propriety, for whiskey having been
freely distributed, many of the attendants manifest that
they have not less freely used it; but there has been a
considerable improvement of late years in this respect.
Of a funeral in London, what can be said ?—a place
with so various a population, and where a man may
die, and his next neighbour know nothing of it, till he
remarks the mutes with their muffled standards at the
door. Notwithstanding the varied population, the
undertakers, in whose hands is generally placed the
management of London funerals, contrive to give them
a uniformity of appearance. If thirty or forty pounds
are to be spent on the funeral rites, the undertaker
provides a large body of attendants, who perform for
hire what in country places is done by friends and
acquaintances from feeling or respect. A pall is borne
before the hearse garnished with nodding plumes; the
hearse is garnished in a similar manner, aud so are the
horses, which are all of a jet black. Following the
hearse is the mourning coach, and two or three other
coaches close the procession. But if the funeral is to be
conducted at less expense, and on foot, the undertaker
provides cloaks, scarfs, and hatbands for the relatives
aud friends who follow the body to the grave; and
when the funeral is over, it is his understood duty to
precede the chief mourners and such of their friends as
accompany them from the churchyard to the house
from whence the deceased was carried. One of the
most mournful, yet one of the most unpicturesque
scenes to be seen in London, is the return of the
mourners, generally the greater number females, the
undertaker marching with a quiet unconcerned air at
their head, and they wrapped in heavy ungraceful scarfs
and hoods, each holding a handkerchief to the face,
either. from excess of grief, or compliance with the
usnal habit.
In 1819, the ‘Quarterly Review’ complained that
‘In the metropolis it has become more difficult to find
room for the dead than the living.” The commis-
sioners for the improvements in Westminster reported
to Parliament, in 1814, that St. Margaret’s churchyard
could not, consistently with the health of the neighbour-
hood, be used much longer as a burying-ground, for that
it was with the greatest difficulty a vacant place could
at any time be found for strangers; the family graves
avenerally would not admit of more than one interment ;
and many of them were then too full for the reception
of any member of the family to which they belonged.
There are many churchyards in which the soil has been
raised several feet above.the level of the adjoining street
by the continual accumulation of mortal matter; and
there are others in which the ground is actually probed
with a borer before a grave is opened. In these things
the most barbarous savages might be shocked at our
barbarity. Many tons of human bones every year are
sent from London to the north, where they are crushed
in mills contrived for the purpose, and used as manure!”
* * * Fifty years ago, a French writer said that
the expenses of interment in London were greatly in-
creased by the necessity of digging the graves deep, for
the sake of security from the surgeons. Ames, the
antiquary, from some such feeling, was deposited in
the churchyard of St. George’s in the East, in what is
called virgin earth, at the depth of eight feet, and in a
stone coffin. A fatal accident occurred at Clerkenwell
a few years ago; in digging a grave to a greater depth
than this, the sides fell in, and buried the labourer. Yet
there has existed a prejudice against new churchyards !
No person was interred in the cemetery of St. George's,
Queen Square, till the ground was broken for Mr, Nel-
THE PENNY. MAGAZINE,
Amongst the upper classes, |
45
son, the well-known religious writer; his character for
piety reconciled others to the spot. People like to be
buried in company, and in good company. The dis-
senters talk with reverent affection of ‘the funeral
honours of Bunhill Fields” John Bunyan was buried
there, and so numerous have been, and still are, the
dying requests of his admirers to be buried as near as
possible to the place of his interment, that it is not
now possible to obtain a grave near him, the whole
surrounding earth being entirely pre-occupied by dead
bodies to a very considerable distance.”
Such a state of things is now in rapid course of
ainelioration. The churchyards of the city are not so
often disturbed as they were ; Kensall Green Cemetery *
is becoming already a thronged burial-place; other
cemeteries are springing up round London; and if all
the projects now on foot be carried out, there will be
no lack of metropolitan suburban cemeteries., A com-
pany, in 1836, obtained an act for “establishing ceme-
teries for the interment of the dead, northward, south-
ward, and eastward of the metropolis.” |
It is unnecessary to give any list of London church-
yards, or any description of them. The two great
receptacles for the illustrious, the noble, or the wealthy
dead, are St. Paul’s and Westminster Abbey. In all
the others there are to be found memorials in abun-
dance of names ‘known in literature, art, and science; of
worthy merchants and notable citizens, famous in their
day and generation; and of thousands, perhaps, in
their lives each the centre of a circle, yet of whom all
that now remains is dust below, and a name with a
laudatory inscription above. ‘‘’The number of the dead
long exceedeth all that shall live. The night of time
far surpasseth the day, and who ‘knows when was the
equinox? Every hour adds unto that current arith-
metic which scarce stands one moment. And since
death must be the Lucina of life, and even pagans
could doubt whether thus to hve were to die—since
our longest sun sets at right descensions, and makes
but winter arches, and therefore cannot be long before
we lie down in darkness, and have our light in ashes—
since the brother of death daily haunts us with dying
mementos, and time that grows old itself bids us hope
no long duration—diuturnity is a dream and folly of
expectation ft.”
THE SHAKERS.
[From a Correspondent. ]
Tuts remarkable sect, still flourishing in the United
States of America, was founded in England about the
year 1747. Jt sprang up in Manchester; and within
a short time, the pretensions of Mother Ann Lee, the
leader of the body, became so public as to atfract per-
secution. No doubt now remains of the sincerity of
this woman, whatever may be thonght of her creed;
but she and her followers were treated as impostors,
and, harmless as they were, were fairly driven out of
the conntry by persecution. They went in 1774 to
America, where there are now about eleven or twelve
societies, containing, all together, about five thousand
members. Mother Ann Lee died in ten years after
leaving England ; and was evidently convinced to the
last nioment of the truth of her own pretensions.
It is perfectly easy so to state the belief and practice of
* See ‘Penny Magazine,’ vol. 11., p. 297,
+ Sir Thomas Brown, quoted in vol. xxi. of the © Quarterly
Review,’ in an article on the cemeteries and catacombs of Paris.
Peré la Chaise has been already described in the ‘ Penny Maga-
zine,’ Vol. iii, p. 270. Its situation is excellent, immediately out-
side Paris, and on the slope of a hill, from which you can survey
the city ; but there is too much of meretricious sentiment and
feeling displayed in the garnishing and inscriptions of the tomb-
stones, monuments, and altars. to be acceptable to a plain Engiish-
man. But even in Kensall Green, some silly and absurd inscrip-
tions have been put up.
446
this woman and her followers as to make both appear
ridiculous, and to cause unreflecting minds to wonder
how several thousands of persons can believe in and
practise any thing so absurd. But thonghtful persons
will perceive that there must be at least something
natural and probable, something true, in any opinions,
and any mode of living, which occupies the minds of a
large number of people,eand induces them to lead a life
of innocence and self-denial. An observer who converses
with the followers of the wildest doctrines will, generally
be struck with the appearance of reason which these
doctrines put on in the conversation of those who believe
in them; with the mixture of sound truth which alone
enables the absurdities connected with them to be retain-
ed. It may be taken as a steady rule, that there must
be something true in that which is reeeived by many
understanding’: there must be something venerable
in that which. is venerated by many minds. -—We shall
merely state, the doctrines, religious and social, of the
Shakers, and point out the practical consequences which
arise from them; leaving it to our readers to decide for
themselves as to the truth and error, the wisdom and
folly, of the separate doctrines and practical arrange-
nents. | |
The religious doctrine of the Shakers approaches that
of the Arians in many important points. This peculiar
faith consists in the belief that the church fell away into
worldliness, and so became subject to Antichrist, which
rendered necessary a second coming of Christ, and
that this second coming commenced in the mission of
Ann Lee. They believe that Opinions are of less
consequence than practice; and that the practice of
what they believe will render people perfectly safe and
happy. ‘They make a great point of confession, having
a text in point to quote for this, as for évery other article
of their belief and practice. |
They do not object to be called Shakers ; but call
tnemselves the United Society, or. Millennial Church.
The rule of life they have established consists in seven
injunctions; in which there seems a strange confusion
of general and derivative principles.
ls Duty to God,—authorized by the first and great
commandment.
2. Duty to Man,—authorized by the second, which
is hke unto it.
3, Separation from the World.
uot of this world.” |
4. Practical Peace. “‘ If my kingdom were of this
world, then would my servants fight.”
5. Simplicity of Language. “Keep thy tongiie froin
evil, and thy lips from speaking g onile.”
6. Community of Properly.. That they may be one
with me:” this unity to extend fo temporal, as well as
spiritual affairs.
7. A Virgin Life. “The children of this world
inarry and are given in marriage; but they that shall
be accounted worthy to obtain that world, and the
resurrection from the dead, neither marry nor are given
in marriage.”
In their practical religion, the Shakers are most at-
tached perhaps to their. rules of separation from the
world and a virgin life. They do not exalt their prac-
tice of dancing in their worship to a matter of first-rate
importance, though they bestow much thought and
spiritual effort npon it. Of course, they quote texts
from the Old Testament about all the personages who
are there said to have dancéd; and froin the New, that
which telates that there was miulsic arid dancing on the
return of the Prodigal Son. ‘They urge. that God
should be worshipped with the feet and hands, as well
as with the tongue. ‘The diuncing, however, is mnch
moderated in its character, within a few years. Its
present appearaneé will be described hereafter.
‘Thus much may be learned about the Shakers from
‘* My kingdom is
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
eu
(NovEMBER 18,
their own and other books. We proceed to describe
what we noted of the operation of their peculiar prin-
ciples in their establishments and thé Management of
at |
Our first visit to the Shakers was at their establish-
ment, two miles from New Lebanon, Massachusetts.
There are 700 members at Lebanon, and 300 at Han-
cock, not far off. The Lebanon establishment is in
possession of about 3000 acres of land, which are culti-
vated to a perfection seen nowhere else in the United
States, except at Mr. Rapp’s settlement on the Ohio,
where Community of Property i is also the binding prin-
ciple of the society. This principle seems to us to have
acted most beneficially, wherever we have seen it i
operation ; ; and this is not to be wondered at, since there
is an absence of all that makes people reckless, and a
presence of all that stimulates them to do perfectly
what they have to do. There is none of the anxiety
about a daily provision which eats into the heart, of the
labourer, discouraging him in his toil: there is the divi-
sion of labour which secures to him the best of what
others can do in departments in which he is not skilled ;
and his mind is free to follow out the employment he
likes best, with all possible spirit and energy. His
kind Mt Axia too, are engaved to do his “hat for
others who are doing their best for him, The eyes of
the whole community are upon him, also ; and his pride
is stimulated to turn out his work as perfect as it is in
his power to make it. It appears as if all these induce-
ments were stronger than any afforded by the possession
of property in securing excellence of work, plenty of
luxury 3 for nothing has been seen to equal the perfec-
tion of the Shaker ‘and Rappite arrangements, in their
fields, vineyards, gardens, and homes. They have the
best crops, the best wines, the best provision for the
table, the best medicines, furniture, house linen, roads,
fences, and habitations in the country, with an enor-
fously i increasing amount of wealth, and very moderate
labour. ‘They are free from the operation of nine-tenths
of the penal law; from all that relates to the protection
of property. They have all that they want, and have
the means of obtaining all that they can ever wish for.
They are free from all temptation to theft. and fraud ;
and the enormous mass of law which relates to the
rnaintenance and transference of property bears no
relation to them, ‘The matter of obedience to law is
wonderfully simplified to them. Offences against the
person (a very sinall proportion in all societies), are all
for which they can be hable to punishment; and pro-
perty is generally at the bottom of these. I believe no
member of these societies has ever been charged with
any breach of the laws of the country.
The road through the settlement had not a stone
bigger than a walnut upon it. Not a weed was to be
seen in any garden; nor a dung-hill in all the place.
The collars of the men, and the caps of the women
were white as snow., The windows were so clear, they
seemed to have no glass inthem. The frame-dwellings,
painted straw-colour, and reofed with deep red shingles,
were finished with the last degree of nicety,—even to
the springs of the windows, and the hinges of the doors,
The floors were as even;and almost as white as marble.
he wood was, put up in piles, supported by stone cor-
ner-posts ; and not a chip was astray, not a log awry.
The shop was stocked with the surplus of their manu-
factures; linen and woollen drapery; knitted wares of
every kind ; sieves, baskets, boxes, cordage, casks and
pails ; médicines, confectionery, and toilette luxuries.
They command a very extensive sale for all their pro-
ductions; especially garden seeds and medicines, of
which they send large ¢ quantities yearly to London.
Our party consisted of ten persons, In four, carriages.
Some of the men of “the family” (settlement) appeared
to take charge of the horses, and they cheerfully saluted
1837.]
those of their visitors whom they knew. They were in
broad-brimmed hats, and homespun vests and breeches.
hose whom we saw at work in the fields, orchards, and
oardens, were without their coats. ‘The women were in
a hideous costume: close caps of linen, like ugly night-
caps; and gowns of drab homespun, made to fit nearly
as closely as a skin ;--too scanty to all appearance to
walk across the room in. A female elder received the
ladies of the party, and conducted them over the dwell-
ing, Withont hesitation, but withont grace.
We had come sever: i miles, and did not expect to be
home again hefore evening, having formed our plans in
reliance on obtaining a neal, as could formerly be done,
at the Shaker settlement. ang of the elders, however,
declared that furnishing food to strangers was out of
the question. They had discontinued the practice from
finding themselves overrun with company from Lebanon
Springs: the profit was no object to them, and the
trouble and disturbance very great. ‘This was reason-
able enongh; and the leader of our party acknowledged
it to be so; but pleaded the reputation of the country
for hospitality, which might be compromised if European
travellers were sent hungry from the door. This plea
prevailed: and when we returned from the gardens and
shop, we found a good meal spread for us. The long’
table was covered with delicious bread, some wheaten,
some of Indian corn, and some made ‘with molasses ;
cheese, butter, spring water, and excellent currant wine.
We really thought we could have gone on eating such
bread and butter all day.
Such is the bright side of the picture.
other.”
In their separation from the world, they abstain from
Now for the
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
ee
°
all politics, all posts of honour, and all “ vain pursuits ;” -
that is, all pursuits which were not approved by the:
founders of their society.
separation are very lamentable.
‘world’s people,” as they call all out of their own body.
They regard as unholy every conceru for the social
welfare of large bodies of people, if shown in action.
They consider themselves in a condition of privilege ;
and their spiritual pride is excessive. In order to keep
up the exclusive spirit at its highest tone, great tyranny
is practised over the young people by their superiors.
They are discouraged from conversing with persons out
of the limit of the society ; books are discountenanced ;
no such thing is dreamed of as the pursuit of science,
literature, or art. These noble intellectual occupations
are reearded as toys with which the holy should have
nothing to do. The children, who are brought into the
society by the admission of their parents, often find the
control to Which they are subjected quite intolerable.
Many quit the society when of ave; and some elope
before that time; but not before they have had a long
strugele with their pride. Being brought up to
Setasicuat™ themselves in a state of privilege, and under
special divine favour, they feel it a degradation to go
down into the world; and especially to work for money.
It is feared that not a few hearts have been broken in
the struggle whether to endure the restraints of the
society, or the degradation of becoming “ world’s people.”
| A friend of ours had a girl in her service, who had
escape’ from a Shaker family, after having been
bronght up in it from her early infancy. She had
grown more and more weary of the insipid life, from
which all books, amusements, and variety were ex-
cluded, when one Sunday she excused herself from
church on the plea of illness. She saw from her win-
dow a pony grazing in the field; she could not resist
the invitation to exercise and sport 5 got out of the
window, jumped upon the pony’s back, and galloped
round and ronnd the field. She went in before church
was over; but she had been seen, and was reported.
In the irritation of her mind. she could not bear censure,
The consequences of this_
They despise the:
—E
eq ee
447
and escaped. ‘The service into which she entered for
support was easy, and her mistress was like a mother
to her; bnt her pride could not brook service; and,
after a struggle of some months, she went back to the
Shakers, not "pretending that it was for any other pur-
pose » than the saving of her pride.
It is much to be wished that the Shakers could admit
the pursuit of knowledge in other departments besides
agriculture, horticulture, and domestic economy. The
world might derive a valuable lesson from witnessing
what might be done in science, literature, and art by
a body so relieved from worldly cares, sO possessed,
through their principle of community of property, with
wealth and leisure. ‘They have not nearly enough to
do ; there is not one of them that could not devote
some hours of every day to a new pursuit if the means
were opened ko him.
They ave “peace men;” and, like all] the other
“peace men,” in all countries, they dwell in a state of
peculiar safety and fearlessness. No one attacks those
who are known to be sworn neither to attack nor defend.
In all our travels we have ever found that none have so
thoroughly enjoyed their due as those who refuse to
enforce it. We speak not only of personal security,
but of welfare 1 in commercial affairs. Of all creditors
the “ peace men’ “are most sure to be paid. Ofall citizens
the “ peace men” are the most sure to have their rights
respected. ‘This fact is honourable to human nature ;
and it points strikingly to times to come, when moral
power shall be supreme over every other kind of force.
{In America, several religious bodies, besides the
| Quakers, hold the doctrine of non-resistance; and
many individuals of every religious sect.
The Shakers insist on simplicity of language. The
only particular under this head which strikes a stranger
is, that they have no titles of honour, and say yea and
nay, for yes and no. They do not use the Quaker thee
and thou. Officers are required for the superintendence
of the establishments; and these must have some sort
of title. ‘hose who direct the spiritual concerns are
called elders; those who take charge of the temporal
affairs, deacons and deaconesses. ‘There are also, in
each society, ministers appointed to preach their A
trines, and to examine candidates for admission.
Evils of great magnitude arise out of the principle of
celibacy, on which the Shakers pride themselves the
most. There is no need to point out the habits of
selfishness, pride, and bitterness of spirit which must
arise out of the exclusion of a whole society from the
tenderest charities of life. It is unquestionable that
much impurity of mind, and some of practice, arises
among a number of persons all bound under the same
inexorable rnle. The pleas they use cannot be satis-
factory to the minds of all ; and tilere is certainly much
doubt, suffering, and even disobedience in some, while
there is an immeasurable pride and prudery i In others.
The discourses of the preachers almost invariably turn
on this point of discipline, and the boastings of the
members always.
The pleas for celibacy are, the example of Christ ;
some texts from Paul’s epistles : and that marriage is
ordained for civil purposes, and ought therefore to be
left to the ‘world’s people.”
The numbers are kept up by the accession of new
members, who often bring large families with them.
There is a great temptation to this in the prospect of
plenty with very moderate labour. There is every
reason to suppose that the society would have been
more, rather than less, wealthy without their principle
of celibacy. The erowth of wealth is so rapid and sure
under the division of labour and mutual aid maintained
where property is in common, that every worker is
found to be worth much more than he costs. Kew
deny this.. The difficulty hes in applying the principle;
AAS
this can be done only in a fresh and separate community,
drawing apart, on convictions of its own, from all old
ones. ‘The Shakers have done this; and have gone a
wood way towards proving what they might have done
without celibacy by receiving into their “families” large
numbers of children from the earliest age. Their society
has in fact been an asylum for many helpless widows,
with large families; who, instead of being a drawback
upon the resources of the community, have increased
its wealth.
Desiring to witness the far-famed Shaker worship,
we visited another establishment, among: the hills which
surround the valley of the Housatonic, one fine Sunday
morning in August. On a green hill-side, we passed a
‘family,’ where all were making ready to follow us,
two or three miles, to the place of worship. A brother
was putting the horses into the neat waggon: the chil-
dren in their ugly costume, stood looking on; while an
elderly woman seemed to be placed in each group, as a
sort of superintendent. ‘The men looked, in some
instances, ruddy and cheerful; but the women were all
pallid, thin and withered. I did not see one pretty
face among them all. The children looked dull and
spiritless. -
When we reached the house of worship, we found
only one person within the walls; and. learned that ser-
vice would not begin for half an hour. We mounted
the hill behind the church; and stood among the trees,
watching the gathering of the members. We seated
ourselves, at last, on one of the benches near the door,
reserved for strangers. . The women and children moved
in like ghosts, keeping their blank looks fixed upon us
as they passed, ‘and till service began. We felt chilled
by the soulless stare of the women; but there was a
liveliness in the glances of the little girls, from under
their close caps, which seemed to prophesy that they
would not stay, when once they could get away. |
The men, with five boys, ranged themselves on three
rows of benches on-one side the room; opposite the
three rows of women. ‘The service began with a prayer
and hymn; the latter sung to a quick chant,—the
most discordant, terrifying music that can be imagined.
hen ensued the dance,—the part of the service we had
most dreaded to witness. ‘There is no fear of being
obliged to laugh, however; it is too shocking to be
ridiculous: the little girls and some old women sat still ;
the rest drew back the benches, to leave a clear space
inthe middle of the room, and formed in a line, opposite
to the three men who were to furnish the music. ‘These
three pawed with their hands, like dancing-dogs, to
keep time, and chanted a sort of tune, without words,
as it seemed ; and in voices which might almost have
been heard to the end of the valley. The dancing
began by the members advancing, in a kind of march-
ing step, for six paces, then six to the left, then six
backwards, then six to the right. Thus they went on
describing a square, in a jigging march, for a consider-
able time. ‘The boys stamped with much spirit, as we
thought, with glee; the women, unnatural and forlorn
in their whole appearance, might have been taken for
galvanized corpses.
The discourse which followed was (of all subjects !)
on civil and religious liberty ; and, for a wonder, with-
out anything about celibacy in it. ‘There was some
rather strange imagery; for instance, the American
revolution was said to have drawn the last of the teeth
of the red dragon. But the principle of liberty seemed
to be clear to the preacher’s mind; and he was so liberal
as to speak of those of the world’s people who live up
to their faith. More singing followed: the members
dispersed to their homes or their vehicles, and we drove
down the valley, not much exhilarated in spirits by any-
thine which we had seen and heard.
It is scarcely necessary to say that this sect has never
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
[NovemBer 18, 1837.
had to boast of any great men or women. No persons
of mental power would join a society whose principle
is to crush human nature; to extinguish the intellect,
and disappoint the affections. It bears no character of
permanence, at least in its present condition. The war
against Nature (which is a war against the Former of
Nature) must be ashort and losing one. If any strong
mind should have inclination and opportunity to cast
out the bad principles of the sect, retaining the good,
the Unirep Society might become an important agent
in improving’ man’s social condition; but if this is not
done, and speedily, the institution will probably laneuish
to its death, being remembered only as an added
example of man’s social eccentricities.
Value of the Willaw.—The importance of the willow to
man has been recognised from the earliest ages ; and ropes
and baskets made from willow twigs were probably among
the very first of human manufactures in countries where
these trees abound. The Romans used the twigs for
binding their vines and tying their reeds in bundles, and
made all sorts of baskets of them. A crop of willows was
considered so valuable in the time of Cato, that he ranks
the salictum, or willow field, next in value to the vineyard
and the garden.’ In France, the leaves, whether in a green
or dried state, are considered the very’ best food for cows
and goats; and horses, in some places, are fed entirely on
them, from the end of August till November. Horses, so
fed, it is stated, will travel twenty leagues a day without
being fatigued. In the north of Sweden and Norway, and
in Lapland, the inner bark is kiln-dried, aid ground for the
purpose of mixing’ with oatmeal-in years of scarcity. The
bark of the willow and also the leaves are astringent; and
the bark. of most sorts may be employed in tanning.—
Arboretum Britannicum. : VV. G
Lavender.—The lavender was held in high estimation by
the Greeks and Romans, for its fragrance and aromatic
properties ; and it has been esteemed, on the same account,
in Britain, and cultivated in gardens for its medicinal virtues
from time immemorial. Medicinally, in the form of tincture,
spirit or essential oil, it is considered a powerful stimulant to
the nervous system, and is, consequently, generally had
recourse to in headaches and_hysterical affections. The
odour resides entirely in the essential oil, which is con-
tained ‘in every part of the plant, but principally in its
spikes of flowers and flower-stalks, from which the oil 1s
obtained by distillation. This oil, rectified, and again dis-
tilled, and mixed with spirits of wine, forms the well-known
lavender water of the perfumers. The flowers, on account
of their powerful aromatic odour, are frequently put into
wardrobes among clothes, as an antidote to motlis, particu-
larly in the case of woollen stuffs. A few drops of the oil will
serve the same purpose. So powerful are the effects of this
oil, that if a single drop of it be put into a box along with a
living insect, the latter almost instantly dies. The lavender
is cultivated in various parts of France; and it is so much
hardier than the rosemary, that it is grown in quantities for
perfumers, even in the neighbourhood of Paris. The driest
soil, in the warmest situations, produces most oil; and, as
the odour of this plant and the rosemary, as indeed all the
Labiaicese, depends on the disengagement of their oil, of
course it is most felt in hot days and during sunshine. The
lavender has been long cultivated in the neighbourhood of
London, and in other parts of England. Park Place, near
Henley-on-Thames, 1s celebrated for its lavender plantations,
which occupy between forty and fifty acres. ‘The plants
are raised from cuttings, which are slipped off and pre-
pared by women in the autumn, and bedded in rows, in
any spare piece of garden ground, where they remain for
two years. The ground into which they are to be trans-
planted being prepared by shallow trenchings or double
ploughing, the plants are placed in rows, four feet apart,
and at two feet distance in the rows.”
*.* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at
59, Lincoln’s Inn Fields.
LONDON: CHARLES KNIGHT & CO., 22, LUDGATE STREET.
Printed by Witt1am CLowes and Sons, Stamford Street,
|
‘
|
|
|
OF THE
Society for the Diffusion:.of Useful Knowledge.
362.)
A LOOKING-GLASS FOR LONDON.—No., XXVI.
PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY.
Tue Bripees or Lonpon.
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{ London, from the York Column. |
O.pn London Bridge, the ruins of which were clearing
away about the time the ‘ Penny Magazine’ was com-
menced *, was for six centuries the only bridge across
the Thames at London. It was begun, according to
Stowe, in 1176, and Westminster Bridge, the next that
was built, was not opened till 1748. <A curious volume,
termed the ‘ Chronicles of London Bridge,’ has been
written concerning the history of this far-famed struc-
ture. The bridge was built uf stone, but it was covered
with houses, most of them of wood, which were fre-
quently destroyed by fire. After Westminster Bridge
was opened, the houses of London Bridge were re-
moved, nnder authority of acts of Parliainent ; and the
bridwe itself was greatly widened and improved. It
continued a kind of convenient nuisance, perpetually
requiring to be propped up and repaired, but strong in
the attachment and antiquariau veneration which its
old eventful associations created, till 1831; and now,
unless we except the Monument, there is scarcely a
landmark left by which to indicate where it once stood.
We now count six bridges across the Thames at
London; eight, if we go above Vauxhall, and include
the suburban bridges of Battersea and Putney. Putney
Bridge, a clumsy wooden structure, was built between
1726 and 1729; its arches are the Scylla and Cha-
rybdis of amateur boatmen on the Thames, and, like
the arches of Old London Bridge, are not unfrequently
the cause of loss of life to the careless or inexperienced.
* See the first Supplement to the ‘Penny Magazine’ in vol. 1.
Vou. VI.
| bridges ; at Venice hundreds.
We mention Putney Bridge to introduce a curious
debate in the House of Commons; for otherwise the
bridge is not strictly a London one, and does not come
fairly within the present article.
On the 4th of April, 1671, a motion was made in the
House of Commons for the second reading of a bill for
erecting a bridge at Putney. The following outline of
the debate on the occasion is taken from the first
volume of the Hon. Mr. Grey’s Collection ; the author
was a member of the House at the time :—
“Tuesday, April 4.—A bill for building another
bridge over the river Thames, from Putney, was read.
‘“ Mr. Jones, member for London.—tThis bill will
question the very being of London: next to the pulling
down of the borough of Southwark, nothing can ruin
it more. All the correspondences westward, for fuel
and erain and hay, if this bridge be built, cannot be
kept up. The water there is shallow at ebb; the cor-
respondences of London require free passage at all
times, and if a bridge, a sculler can scarce pass at low
water. It will alter the affairs of watermen, to the
king’s damage and the nation’s, Thinks the bill un-
reasonable and unjust.
‘¢ Mr. Waller [the poet.]—As for the imposition laid
by this bill, men may go by water, if they please, and
not over the bridge, and so pay nothing. If ill for
Southwark, it is good for this end of the town, where
court and parliament are. At Paris there are many
We are still obstructing
3M
[Novemper 25, 1837.
THE PENNY MAGAZINE
450
The king cannot hunt but he must
public things.
He and the whole nation have con-
cross the water.
venience by it.
“Sir Thomas Lee.—This bill will make the new
buildings at this end of the town let the better, and
fears the bill is only for that purpose.
‘“* Colonel Birch.—Finds it equal to men whether it
does them hurt or they think it does them hurt. Where
a cart carries something to the city, it usually brings
something home; and they that bring provision hither
will fetch back, but will not go to the city to fetch it.
‘¢ Mr. Secretary Trevor—No law can be made bnt
will transfer one or other inconvenience somewhere.
Passages over rivers are generally convenient; and by
the same reason you argue against this bridge, you
may argue against London Bridge and the ferries.
‘¢ Sir William Thompson.—When a convenience has
been so long possessed as this has been, it is hard to
remove it. This will make the skirts (though not Lon-
don) too big for the whole body; the rents of London
Bridge, for the maintenance of it, will be destroyed.
This bridge will cause sands and shelves, and have an
effect upon the low bridge navigation, and cause the
ships to lie as low as Woolwich; it will affect your
navigation, your seamen, and your western barges,
who cannot pass at low water. Would reject the bill.
“Colonel Stroude.—In no city where bridges are,
were they all built at a time. No city in the world is
so long as ours, and here is but one passage for five
miles. In frosts provisions may stop, and in case of
any mutiny, passages may be so stopped by water, as
a correspondence cannot be held any way but by this
convenience,
‘* Mr. Boscawen.—If a bridge at Putney, why not at
Lambeth, and more? And as for Paris, where there
are so many bridges, there is no use for watermen at
ali; and the same reason that serves Paris may serve
London. Neither Middlesex nor Surrey desire it: at
best it is but a new conclusion.
“ Sir John Bennet.—Says the Lord Mayor and
Aldermen did agree toit, if it were for no other reason
than to be secured from a bridge at Lambeth.
** Mr. Love.—The Lord Mayor of this year is of a
different opinion from him of the last year. If carts
vo over, the city must be destroyed by it. It is said
that it enconrages but a few ferry-men, though in truth
it does many. He hears that it must be of timber,
which must be vast, and will so hinder the tide, that
watermen must stay till it rises. When between the
bridges the streams are abated, in time no boat will
pass, and the river will be destroyed totally for passage,
it being already full of shelves.
“Sir Henry Herbert.—This looks like a monopoly:
several of these projects were in the late Kine’s time,
but rejected, because the Londoners and the adjacent
countries would be prejudiced by it. It is a matter of
great concernment, and too thin a house; and now to
receive a bill of this nature would be thought strange.
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
[NovemBer 25,
‘¢'The bill was rejected by 67 to 54.”
The editor of ‘ Grey's Debates’ has the following note
written about sixty-five years ago, on the preceding
subject :—
‘‘ Experience has at length convinced us of the
weakness and fallacy of the objections here raised
against another bridge (though private interest it may
be presumed was the principal motive), since, not to
mention the many bridges that have been raised farther
up the river, this metropolis boasts, without any of
these inconveniences, not only a bridge at Putney, but
one at Westminster, where use and convenience go
hand in hand; and to which there is now adding a
third at Blackfriars.”
Westminster Bridge, as already mentioned, was the
first London bridge erected, after London Bridge. It
is adjacent to the Houses of Parliament, and West-
minster Hall: a view and description of it is given in
No. 27 of the ‘ Penny Magazine.’ Blackfriars Bridge
was begun in about ten years after the opening of
Westminster Bridge. At the time it was built it was
thought a noble specimen of bridge building, and
it was so unquestionably, until such engineers as Tel-
ford and Rennie carried forward the art. Situated
not far from Fleet Street and Ludgate Hill, it is, like
London Bridge, one of the great thoroughfares of the
metropolis. ‘The declivity of the bridge, and the friable
stone of which it was built, have rendered necessary very
exteusive alterations and repairs, which have been carry-
ing on within these last three years, and of which some
account is given in No. 275 of the ‘ Penny Magazine.’
Southwark and Waterloo Bridges—the first a fine
structure of cast-iron, the second of eranite, and one of
the noblest bridges in the world—were nearly cotem-
poraneous in their erection. Waterloo Bridge was
begun in 181], and completed in 1817; Southwark
Bridge was begun in 1814, and opened in 1819. Vaux-
hall Bridge, which is the farthest up the river of the
strictly London bridges, was also built about the same
time as the Southwark and Waterloo Bridges. It was
begun in 1818, and finished in 1816. It consists of
nine arches of equal span, in squares of cast-iron,
resting’ on piers of rnsticated stone.
New London Bridge was begun in 1824, and opened
in 1831. Both it and Waterloo Bridge were opened
with great ceremony and pomp—Waterloo Bridge on
the anniversary of the battle of Waterloo, in 1817, by
George [V., then Prince Regent, and the Duke af
Wellington; London Bridge by the late King, Wil-
liam LV., accompanied by the present queen dowager.
A statue to the Duke of Wellington is about to he
erected in the “city,” as an acknowledgement, by the
citizens, of his exertions in facilitating the means of
erecting new London Bridge.
The following table exhibits the relative proportions
of the six London bridges, with other particulars, taken
from Mr. Britton’s work on the public buildings of
| London :—
S |lalsei( leg
ee eS Sg eS Material
=) & a) &,
oat Si nil atinmo
ie.
ft | ft. julie tet fit.
930/20) 40
roa
London, Old. ° e¢ | a)
Altered by Mr. Dance
and Sir R. Taylor .
London, New
Southwark . - .
Blackfriags® .. 27.
Waterloo. . «i ines
Westminster . aes. .
Vauxha . == =
———|48}—120| — =
920156155! 5|150|Granite, &c.
. -| 700) 42)53! 3/240] Iron.
~| 1000) 42)/62|°91100| Portland stone.
011326 j42
1066} 42
809) 36
58/15} 76} Portland stone.
SY o> Crem tO LO
ba
SSS 0 SSL eS SS ee ee SS | 6 ee
19| 70;Stone and rubble.
54} 9/120] Cornish granite.
—} 9} 78)Lron and granite.
Commenced, Finished, Architects. | Water-way,
ft.
Above
Petetee Starlings,
1176, 1209. Cdicaweai 540 ;
Below,
273.
Mar. 15, 1824.;Opened Aug. 1, 1831.)Sir J. Rennie. 690
Sept. 23, 1814. 1819. Su J, Rennie. 660
June, 1760. 1770. R. Mylne. 793
October, 1811.;Opened March, 1817.|Sir J. Rennie.| 1080
January, 1739. 1750. Labelye. 829
James Walker
|
eet
May, 1811. July, 1816.
1837.]
Of these six bridges three are open thoroughfares,
and at three tolls are paid; and it so happens that
one of each kind oceurs alternately. The three open
bridves are London, Blackfriars, and Westminster; and
at all periods of the day they may be seen thronged by
a multitude of passengers on foot, in carriages, and on
norseback. At each of the other bridges there are
toll-houses, with metal turnstiles attached to each.
Connected with each turnstile is an index in the toll-
house, by which the number of foot passengers can be
distinctly ascertained during each day. The number
of passengers on foot and horseback who use these
bridges, though far from being inconsiderable, is yet
very small when compared with the other bridges.
Waterloo Bridge affords the finest walk to be had in
tlle heart of London. It is in the immediate neigh-
bourhood of the thronged Strand; and on either side
of it, at some little distance, Westminster and Black-
friars Bridges may be seen covered with an apparently
never-ending crowd. Bnt the toll (one penny for each
foot passenger) keeps Waterloo Bridge free from the
incouveniences of a thrunged thoroughfare; and one
can walk with ease and comfort along its level extent,
and enjoy the fine perspective view of London which,
by the sharp turn of the river, is here brought before
the eye. The noble river front of Somerset House is
close by the bridge; the dome of St. Paul’s does not
appear so vast as on Blackfriars Bridge, but the dis-
tance, which somewhat diminishes the idea of the size,
“lends enchantment to the view;’ and the towers of
Westminster Abbey are seen rising above their sur-
rounding objects. It is pleasant, on the close of a sultry
day, to escape to Waterloo Bridge from the heated pave-
ment and brick walls of Fleet Street and the Strand;
and on such an evening the nervous or impatient man,
panting for a breath of air, and who fancies that the
very noise of the streets aggravates all his uncomfort-
able sensations, will doubly enjoy the breeze that ripples
the surface of the river; and in marking how the set-
ting sun tonches dome, tower, and pinnacle with its
varied hues, will even dolerate the now softened sounds
that so lately irritated his nerves.
than on Westminster Bridge, where the sonnet is stated
to have been composed, will be felt, in the calm of a
summer morning, the force of Wordsworth’s exquisite
lines :—
« Karth has not any thing to show more fair:
Dull would he be of soul who could pass by
A sight so touching in its majesty :
This city now doth hke a garment wear
The beauty of the morning; silent, bare,
Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples-lie
Open unto the fields and to the sky,
All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.
Never did sun more beautifully steep
In his first splendour valley, rock, or hill ;
Ne’er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep!
The river glideth at its own sweet will:
Dear God ! the very houses seem asleep,
And all that mighty heart is lying still !”
A fine view of the river is obtained from the top of
the York Column. Our engraving shows a part of it,
but by varying the point of view, nearly all the bridges
of London may be seen.
o ge Renee Soe
CELEBRATION OF CHRISTMAS AT GOLDBERG,
IN SILESIA.
CurisTMAs is probably celebrated in few places with
greater solemnity than at Goldberg. 'The most remark-
able feature in this festival is said to owe its origin to
the plague which raged here in 1553; and which, ac-
cording to an old inscription in the parish church of
Goldberg, desolated this district, and carried off 2500
persons. ‘Tradition says that only twenty-five heads of
families survived ; and all the houses being closed, they
were altogether ignorant of the fate of their neighbours,
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
Here, too, rather
Adl
M. Martinus Tabornus, in his ‘ Cladibus Goldbergen-
sibus,’ says that this plague was so exceedingly virulent,
that it was a rare thing to find a honse which was not
closed, and that the market-place was overgrown with
grass, One of the survivors, it is affirmed, repaired at
two oclock in the night of Christmas Eve to a place
called Nieder-ring, and began singing aChristmas carol,
in order to encourage such as had been spared by the
plague, which was checked by the cold, to unite with
him in celebrating a day so joyful to the whole human
race. He was soon joined by several of his neighbours,
and after they had sung another hymn, they proceeded
to the Ober-ring, in order to invite such of the popu-
lation as still remained there to sme with them. In
memory of this affecting incident, the ceremonies still
observed here are said to have been derived. About
two in the morning of Christmas Day, more than 2000
persons from the town and the villages belonging to it
assemble at the Nieder-ring, having previously attended
the festivities in the Franciscan convent, which com-
mence at midnight. The chief watchman of the town
assembles his fellows, together with a Ringcantor who
has a @ood voice, whom he leads in procession to the
Nieder-ring, where they form a circle. As soon as the
clock strikes two, the watchman cries the hour, and the
sinwer commences the hymn, ‘ Unto us a Child is born,’
in which he is joined by the whole assembled multitude
and the inhabitants of the neighbouring houses, which
are lichted up. After another hymn, they repair to the
Ober-ring, where they again place themselves in a circle,
and unite in various hymns. ‘The whole is conducted
with the greatest decorum, and is rendered peculiarly
solemn and affecting, from being performed in a fine
chant in the open air, and amid the gloom and silence
of a winter’s-night, while the houses all around are
illuminated.
When this is concluded, there is a flourish of trumpets
from the chief steeple, after which a full chorns joins
in the hymn, ‘ Vo God alone be the Glory,’ which is
replied to by the multitudes assembled on the two
Ringen. After various pieces of vocal and instrumental
music, which terminate at four o'clock, there is a ser-
vice in the Protestant parish church, where the well-
known hymn Quem pastores, is sung by a full choir,
divided into four bands. The church is, in the mean-
time, brilliantly illuminated by wax tapers, which are
fixed in every direction. After the sermon, the Te
Deum is sung, accompanied by horns and trumpets,
and at six in the morning this nocturnal festival is
concluded.
ICE PALACE OF ST. PETERSBURG.
*‘ Imperial mistress of the fur-clad Russ,
aaa no forest fell
When thou would’st build ; no quarry sent its stores
To enrich thy walls; but thou didst hew the floods,
And make thy marble of the glassy wave.
“ % % a * *%
In such a palace Poetry might place
The armoury of Winter, where his troops,
The gloomy Clouds, find weapons ; arrowy sleet,
Skin-piercing volley, blossom-bruising hail,
And snow that often blinds the traveiler’s course,
And wraps him in an unexpected tomb.
Silently as a dream the fabnic rose ;
No sound of hammer or of saw was there ;
Ice upon ice, the well-adjusted parts -
Were soon conjoin’d, nor other cement ask’d
Than water interfused, to make them one.
Lamps, gracefully disposed, and of all hues, —
Illumin’d every side; a wat’ry ight
Gleam’d through the clear transparency that seem’d
Another moon new risen, or meteor fallen >~
From heaven to earth, of Jambent flame serene.
So stood the brittle prodigy ; though smooth
And slippery the materials, yet, frost-bound,
Firm as a rock. Nor wanted aught within,
That royal residence might well beft,
Yor grandeur or for use. Long wavy wreaths
Of flowers, that fear’d no enemy but warmth,
3M 2
452
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THE PENNY MAGAZINE,
{f NovEMBER 29.
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nthe
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————
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(al Da ee
[Ice Palace, St. Petersburg. ]
Blush’d on the panels. Mirror needed none,
Where all was vitreous; but in order due, =
Convivial table and commodious seat
(What seem’d at Jeast commodious seat) were there ;
Sofa and couch and high-built throne august.
The same lubricity was found in all,
And all was moist to the warm touch; a scene
Of evanescent glory, once a stream,
And soon to slide into a stream again,”
co
Tur above beautiful lines from Cowper's ‘ Task,’ though
much more poetical than exact, are descriptive of that
‘‘ most magnificent and mighty freak,” the ice palace
of the Empress Anne, which was erected at St. Peters-
burg in January, 1740. The following account with
the engravings is taken from a detailed description of
the edifice published at St. Petersburg in the year 1741,
when all the circumstances relating to this extraordinary
building were fresh in the memory of the writer.
After a pretty lengthy dissertation on the effects of
frost and the qualities of ice, which has little to do with
the matter in hand, the writer proceeds to panegyrise
the noble Alexis Danilovitch Tatishchev, who originated
the design of the Ice Palace, the Empress Anne who
furnished the funds, and the Palace itself, which merited
he says to be placed among the stars, to be transported
to Saturn, the temperature of which distant planet
would have been fitted, the writer thinks, to give it
permanency.
The intention of the projectors of the Ice Palace was
to build it upon the river Neva itself, in order to be as
near as possible to the source from which the tce was
to be procured. It was accordingly begun upon that
river towards the end of the year 1739; but, says the
author, “ the ice of this river which sustaius the weight
of many thousand armed men; which supports great
cannons and mortars, frequently discharged ; which did
not break under the immense weight of a fortress of ice
and snow, attacked and defended according to all the
rules of war, and taken at last sword in hand (which
was performed seven years ago in a show represented
before the Empress) ; this ice, I say, began to give way
under the walls of the palace as soon as they were raised
to some considerable height; whence it was easily con- |
. s ¢ +
17
2
cluded that it could uot support the weight of the whole
when completed.’ In consequence of this failure, it
was resolved to begin again, and to build tle palace
on land: asite was accordingly selected between the
Fortress of the Admiralty and the new winter residence
of the Empress, and the work was begun with the ad-
vantage of tle experience in ice building gained by the
attempt on the river.
The manner of building was very simple; the purest
and most transparent ice was selected: it was cut from
the Neva in large blocks, which were then squared with
rule and compass, and carved out with all the regular
architectural embellishments. When each block was
ready, it was raised to its destined place by cranes and
pulleys, and an instant before letting it down upon the
block which was to support it, a little water was thrown
between the two, the upper block was immediately
lowered, the water froze, and the two became literally
one. ‘The whole building in fact appeared to be and
really was all of one single piece, ** producing without
contradiction an effect infinitely more beautiful than if
it had been built of the most costly marble, its trans-
parency and bluish tint giving it rather the appearance
of a precious stone.”
The dimensions of the building were in English
measure, length 56 feet, depth 18 feet, and height
including the roof, 21 feet. This is the body of the
house; the palisading was 87 feet in length and 36 in
width, and the actual length of the front view, including
the pyramids at the corners, was 114 feet.
When the work was completed, the public were
allowed an unrestricted passage through every part of
the building. This at first caused a e@ood deal of con-
fusion, which was however obviated by surrounding
the entrance with a wooden railing, and stationing
police officers who allowed only a certain number of
persons to pass 1n at one time.
The facade was plain, being merely divided into com-
partments by pilasters. In each division there was a
window, the trame-work of which was painted to repre
sent green marble: it was remarked that the ice at the
low temperature which prevailed took the paint per
fectly well. ‘The panes were formed of slabs of ice, as
transparent and smooth as plate glass: at nieht these
windows were cenerally lighted up, and most commonly
‘grotesque transparencies painted on canvass were placed
jn the windows. The effect of the illumination is said
to have been peculiarly fine, as the light appeared not
only at the windows, but from the transparency of the
material, the whole palace was filled with a delicate
pearly light. ‘he centre division projected, and appeared
be a door; but it was in fact a large window, and
was illuminated like the others. An ornamental balus-
trade surmounted the facade of the building, and behind
was the sloping roof with chimneys, in the usual style of
Russian architecture. A handsome balustrade, all of
ice, ran round the outside of the building. A large
space was left for a promenade between the balustrade
and the palace. ‘There were also two entrances behind,
with gates handsomely ornamented with orange trees in
leaf and flower, with birds perched on the branches, all
of ice.
_ §ix cannons regularly bored and turned, with their
wheels and carriages, stood before the balustrade, three
on each side; these were of the calibre of such as
usualiy receive three pounds of powder, but being of so
fragile a material it was uot considered safe to put in
more thana quarter of a pound: the ball was of hard tow,
well rammed in. ‘Iwo or three times iron balls were
fired from these cannons without bursting them. The
experiment was tried in the presence of the court, and
the ball pierced a strong plank two inches thick, at a
distance of sixty paces. Two mortars stood on eacl
side of the entrance; these were of the size of those
which carry a shell of eighty pounds: when fired the
charge of powder was the same as that for the cannons,
On the same line stood two dolphins, which were made
to throw a stream of inflamed naphtha out of their mouths,
at night, by means of concealed tubes.
_ At the extremities of the rows of cannons, in advance
of the balustrade, stood two pyramids surmounted with
globes. They were raised on handsome pedestals, and
had a circular window, around which a dial was painted
on each of the four sides. They were hollow within,
and could be eutered by a door-way placed in the rear.
A large paper lantern of eight sides, with monstrous
figures painted upon them, was hung up in the middle
of each pyramid and illuminated at night: a man was
stationed withinside to turn about the lantern, and each
of the figures on it presented itself in succession at the
windows of the pyramid, to the great amusement of the
multitude.
An elephant of the natural size was placed ou the left
side of the building, and on his back .was a Persian,
[Ice Elephant and Fountain. ]
holding a battle axe in his hand; two other Persians,
one of whom held a spear, were placed in front of him.
The elephant was hollow, and was made to throw water
through his trunk to the height of twenty-four feet.
1837.) THE PENNY MAGAZINE, 453
This was done by means of tubes leading from the foss
of the Admiralty near which it stood. At night burn-
ing naphtha was substituted for water, and the effect is
said to have been very singular, the appearance being
that of a stream of fire. To make this part of the
exhibition more remarkable, a man was placed within
the figure, who from time to time blew through certain
pipes so as to make a noise like the roaring of an ele-
phant. On the right of the house, at about the saine
distance as the elephant, a bath: was built, made of round
logs of ice, like the log baths used in Russia: “ this
bath,’ says our author ‘was more than once actually
heated and used.” )
After describing the outside we come to the inside of
this ‘‘ereat plaything.” The entrance was behind, and
the spectator was introduced into a spacious and hand-
some vestibule with one room on each side. There were
no other rooms than these, so that they were sufficiently
spacious, and as there was no ceiling under the roof
they were also very lofty.
~ Jn one of these rooms which was the bed-room, there
was a dressing-table fully set out with a looking elass,
aud all sorts of powder and essence boxes, jars, bottles, a
watch, and a pair of candlesticks and candles, all of ice ;
the candles were sometimes smeared with naphtha and
set in a blaze without melting. Before the table two little
figures were placed as supporters, and against the wall
a inirror was hung. In the other half of the room was
the bedstead, with bed, pillows, and counterpane, finely-
wrought curtains, and other furniture. ‘There was a
fireplace on the right, elegantly carved, and within were
logs of ice, which were occasionally smeared with
naphtha and set fire to. All the other parts of the
room were fitted up in a correspouding manner.
The other principal room may be called either the
dining or drawing-room: here was a table with a hand-
some time-piece, all provided with wheels of ice, which
were visible through the transparent case. On each
side were settees or sofas handsomely carved, and too
large statues were placed in the corners of the room,
besides other furniture.
Here ends the description of this immense toy, which
was indeed
— “transient in its nature, as in show
*Twas durable.’’
The writer of the account says “‘ As long as the excessive
cold lasted, that is from the beginning of January to
the middle of March, so long did this remarkable edifice
stand; it then began to give towards the southern side,
and soon it gradually melted away. It was not alto-
vether useless in its destruction, for the large blocks of
the walls were taken to fill the ice cellars of the imperial
palace :’ a very poor return for an enormous outlay.
We learn from the same book that the Empress of
Russia was not the only person who took advantage of
the excessive cold of the year 1740. The same sort of
amusemeut, though on an infinitely sinaller scale, was
taken by a German, named Von Meinert, who carved
alarge lion at the gate of Holstein in Lubech, seven
feet in length, aud he did it so well, says the author,
‘that a skilful carver could hardly have done it better
iu wood.” The lion was surrounded by a bulwark of
ice, on which were placed five cannons, a soldier, aud a
watch box, all of ice.
The writer of the account endeavours to make some
kind of apology for the large sums thrown away in this
work, by observing that we have learned a good deal of
the properties of ice from what was done; we know
now, he says, that it can be turned and bored, and that
gunpowder may be fired in cannons made of it. He
says many persons have been sceptical as to the pos-
sibility of gunpowder taking fire; but continues he, “ I
have seen a little heap of powder which in the month of
July was placed upon a piece of ice taken from an Ice-
A54
cellar, and which instantly exploded at the approach of
a burning elass.”
The book contains a list of the excessive frosts that
have been recorded in Europe for 2000 years; this list
is taken chiefly from the chronological work of Cal-
visius, and the writer fancies he sees in it that such
extraordinary degrees of cold occur at intervals of thirty
years, in which he is certainly not borne out by his
own data.
In a little account of the frost, towards the end of the
book, the following days are stated as those on which
the cold was particularly intense.* From the 22nd to
the 25th November ; the five first days of December ;
and from the 16th to the 24th of the same month;
from the 5th day of January to the end of February;
from the 9th to the 11th; from the 12th to the 15th;
and froin the 19th to the 27th of March. ‘The coldest
day in the winter was the 5th of February, when the
thermometer of the observatory stood at 30° below zero
of I*ahrenheit: on that day the barometer suddenly
arose to 29°6 English inches.
A few experiments on the power of cold were tried.
A glass of good French brandy exposed to the air on
the mg@ht of 15th February was found covered with a
crust of ice the next morning’; the rest of the contents
of the glass became of the consistency of soft wax.
Cn the 13th December, a elass of water covered with
two-thirds of an inch of nut-oil began to freeze in nine-
teen minutes, and soon became solid, but the oil was
not affected. The snow was cleared away from a
arden on the 25th of March, and the eround, which
was hard as marble, broken throueh with much diffi-
culty ; at three inches depth it was found as soft as in
summer; “the frost,” says the writer, “having pene-
trated only so far;” we should certainly be more in-
clined to impute this fact to the wet having sunk no
further.
‘Ihe book concludes with a list of places at which the
height of the thermometer was observed in that winter,
with the degree below zero at which they descended at
each place, and the name of the observer, when known.
‘ihe thermometer is Fahrenheit’s, and the dates are all
changed to the new style.
Observer's
Place. Date. Deeree. Name.
Danivic. ae. Jan. 10 .& 10° ~.. Hanow.
Frankfurt Po 5 Ser,
Viamburgh . low, oer’ os
ae cel) 6 DOs gee oD
Gouge , ae ll 14
We eg ls et oe Ve
St. Petersburg Féb. D 2”. pou, Warne
perm er ee, a 9 . Grischow.
eral . 16. . JS . Celsius.
Basle — 20 « ¢« 4. . , Bernoulli,
hy ar 29 » 20 . Muller.
Weimar . : ZO . UG OURS Ne Poertus.
London, no day stated - 8
THE FORESTS OF AMERICA.
[From a Correspondent. ]
Tnose who have never explored the primeval forests of
America, can form but a very imperfect conception of
the depth of the gloom and solemnity which every-
where pervades them. Save on some of the south-
western ridges, such as intersect the great valley of the
Ohio for instance, where, beneath the outspreading
branches of the oak, the chestnut, the walnut, and the.
sycamore, you find spots of luxuriant herbage, and
myriads of bne@ht and beautiful flowers, all the rest of
the interminable woods that I ever, in my ‘devions
rambles, have explored, are wholly destitute of herbage,
yielding neither grass nor flowers. Wherever you tread,
the surface of the ground is thickly strewn with decayed
* In these dates the old style has been altered to the new.
T This the writer very properly suspects to be erroneous.
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
| inclement seasons.
have gone into their retreat, and have become torpid;
[NovEMBER 25,
7
and decaying leaves; and dead branches, of various
shapes and sizes, are daily toppling down from the
lofty stems to which they have belonged. And thoug:
the winds may rage, and the storm may beat, in tl
tops of the tall forest-trees, yet there reiens an ever
lasting stillness near the surface of the earth; not z
breath of air is there to stir the light and withered
leaves: where they fall, there they are suffered to
moulder and decay. ‘The boundless covering of crisp
and brown leaves becomes partially enlivened by the
ereen of the young seedlings, which spring up by thon-
sands during the summer season; but as the all-vivify-
ine influence of the glorious orb of “lieht and life”
cannot reach their lowly condition, for the most part
they pine and die, their places being supplied with
another crop of these ‘annuals’ each succeeding
summer. | ‘
It would be tedious to enumerate all the varietie
of timber-trees found in the vast wildernesses of Ame
rica; yet there is, in almost every section of thie
country, some predominant species, from which the
woods acquire their appropriate mame and character,
The chief of these may be comprised in the four follow-.
ing, namely,— oak-woods, beech-woods, pine-woods,
and cedar-swamps, or barrens. All these forests ar
oloomy, but they have their comparative degrees of
depth of shade: the oak-woods being the least dark,
because of the trees standing further apart; the beech-
woods in the next degree; and then comes the sullen
pine; and, lastly, the sombre cedar. When the sun is
in its meridional summer splendour, a quiet, chaste,
and mellow light is admitted through the veil of pale
green and semi-transparent foliage of the oak and
beech woods. At that season, too, a few, but only a
very few, summer-birds frequent forests of this cha-
racter; and whose song, if song they have, is wild,
monotonous, and melancholy. Occasionally, the ear is
startled by the loud tapping of some industrious but
unmusical woodpecker; and even in the depth of
winter, its rapid hammering may be heard from afar,
—for some of the more hardy varieties of the wood-
pecker tribe do not migrate at the approach of the most
Besides the few birds that usually
frequent these forests, they are inhabited also by playful
squirrels, of three or four varieties; their haunts, how-
ever, being generally confined to those tracts of countr
where mast and nuts are in the greatest abundance;
for in all the northen regions of America they have to
store up provisions during the summer and autumn, on
which they have to depend for a subsistence through
lone and rigorous winter. I have already enumerated
all of animated nature that tends to lessen the gloom
ald loneliness of the oak and beech woods; for the
larger animals which are found there are but rarely
seen; and from their wild and savage habits and dis-
positions, the heart of man can derive no pleasurable
sympathies or feelings. )
I have described these forests as they appear to Iii
who explores them during the sunny season of summet
but when the early frosts have seared the foliage of tl
oak and the beech,—and the autumnal tempests hav
scattered the leaves of the walnut, the ash, and the
maple,—the light of day is more freely admitted througl
the lofty branches of the forest trees. But the birds a
summer are gone; and should the season be pretty far
advanced, the nimble-footed squirrels will have retreated |
to their holes and cavities in their favourite trees, no |
more to be seen sporting and frolicking until the warm
and congenial suns of the ensuing spring shall awake
them to renewed life and activity. Even the larger
wild animals will have become more scarce by the
time that winter has fairly set in, for some of them will
|
nm
i
and those that remain, being now able to discover mans
|
1837]
approach at a greater distance, in consequence of the
foliage no longer impeding the view, seldom suffer
themselves to be closely approached. The winter
snowstlie smooth and unruffled in the wilderness, save
where is seen the trail of some stalking deer, or the
track of some prowling fox or wolf. ‘Tn the moun-
tainous districts you occasionally come upon the foot-
prints of the American panther; and in some of the
western regions the traveller will have an opportunity
of remarking upon the trails of small herds of elk that
have crossed his forest-path.
I come next to speak of the pine woods, and although
they are not so common as the “ green woods,” as those
already described are familiarly called y—yet there are
millions of acres of forest, where pine, of two or three
sorts, is the only, or at all events the generally prevailing
timber. When the summer sunis in its full power and
splendour, the leht, if light it may be called, in the
pine woods resembles faint and dubious twilight. This
greater degree of obscurity is caused, partly by the
darker and more impervious nature of the foliage, and
partly in consequence of the pine-treegs growing closer
to each other than other forest trees generally do.
Neither is there any season of the year in which the
trees are bare; much of the winter snow lodges on.
their branches, and that which finds a passage to the
earth seems to have been deprived of all its native
purity in the gloom of the recesses where it reposes.
As regards the loneliness and melancholy of these re-
gions, summer and winter are nearly alike; for during
the season that rejoices all other parts of the creation,
no summer bird resorts to the pine-clad regions to
build its solitary nest, or chaunt its simple song of hap-
piness and love. Scarcely a busy woodpecker is to be
heard (seeing one is out of the question) ; and as for
squirrels, they find no business there; except in their
migratory excursions instinct should happen to guide
them through some section of a pine forest. The bird
most commonly found there is the New England par-
tridge, or the Virginia pheasant ; but even these are
scarcer than they are in the more cheerful “ green
woods” of various parts of the country. It may be
observed that the pine forests are considerably taller
than any of the rest; probably 160 feet would be below
their average height; and although so very tall, the
trees are seldom more than two feet in diameter, in
consequence of their growing in such close vicinity.
In the green, or summer woods, you frequently fall in
with a few straggling pine trees, growing up amongst
'the light green foliage to the height of sixty or seventy
feet above all the surrounding forest trees; standing
like sentinels set to watch over all the silent wilderness.
And when one has an opportunity of looking down
upon the surrounding woods from some lofty and
abrupt eminence, the whole country appears covered
with brushwood or shrubbery, with here and there a
pine tree of moderate size shooting up from the midst
of it. ‘The white pine forests are the most general, as
well as extensive, in the northern regions of America.
The cedar-woods are commonly confined to swamps;
but they occasionally intervene on mountain ridges,
where the soil is miserably poor; and, the trees at-
-tainine but a small size, such situations are called
eedar-barrens. ‘There are also oak, as well as pine-
barrens, in various parts of the country. The pine-
woods, as already stated, are dark and gloomy; but
the cedar-swamps are still more dismal. Although
they are seldom of great extent, to be under the ne-
cessity of traversing a few miles of these swamps is no
ordinary undertaking ; for, in many situations, the
cedars @row so close to each other, that there is barely
space for a man’s body to squeeze through between
them. And taking into the account the nature of their
dark-green foliage, some idea may be formed of the
THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 455
gloom and melancholy which for ever pervade the cedar-
swainps. Some of them are of so boggy a nature, thaé
it is with extreme difficulty they are explored by man,
and as the heavens are entirely shut out, the compass
is absolutely necessary to direct the wanderer in the
right way; and even this can hardly be trusted to as
a sure guide, for there is not sufficient light upon all
occasions to enable him to ascertain the quarter to
which the needle points. One of the most extensive
cedar-swamps known at present is the Dismal Swamp
in Virginia; the length of which is upwards of thirty
miles. In the interior of Canada these swamps abound
more than they do in any other section of the country
with which I am acquainted; and notwithstanding the
contiguous lands may be of the very best quality of
soil, at. the present day these swamps are utterly worth-
less. It is mostly the white cedar that grows in them,
but the trees do not attain a great elevation, neither
are they bulky, since very few of them exceed twelve or
fifteen inches in diameter. Were other sorts of timber
more scarce, white cedar would be in greater demand :
at present, where it can be got to market at a moderate
expense, it is used for laths, staves, and shingles. ‘There
is, if possible, a smaller portion of animal existence in
these dreary regions, than in the desolate pine-woods; for
if we except the millions of mosquitoes that these swamps
give birth to, scarcely is there aught that “ lives and
breathes” within the dark precincts of the cedar-woods.
There are some remarkable natural phenomena in
the forests of America, two or three of which I will
briefly notice; but as I have never heard what I con-
sider satisfactory arguments advanced to account for
their existence, I shall forbear hazarding any opinions
of my own. In journeying through the interior of the
country where the forest has been little, or not at all,
encroached upon by the axe of the woodman, you will
often, after travelling for two or three days through
regular pine-woods, suddenly and unexpectedly find :
yourself in woods of a perfectly distinct and dissimilar
character. ‘This, in itself, is nothing extraordinary ;
but if you will take the trouble to examine a little into
the matter, you will then find that there is no visible
natural reason for this change—since, for all that you
can discover, the soil, and all that is therewith con-
nected, is precisely of the same character and quality
on both sides the line which marks the change of tim-
ber. At other times a small and insignificant stream
will form the line of demarcation, but if you examine
you will find that there is not any change or new ar-
rangement in the mineral kingdom between one side of
the stream and the other. These changes, when they
do occur, are seldom of small extent, for you often find
them running directly through regions of country for
scores or hundreds of miles, everywhere showing the
division line with a remarkable distinctness. And in
those changes it is not only the leading character of
timber which gives plage to some other equally dis-
tinctive and prevailing; but the few inferior trees and
shrubs are superseded by another set of secondary trees
and shrubs, of a perfectly distinct order and character.
Often from some lofty acclivity have I stood gazing
upon these dividing lines of the vast and wonderful
timber-crops of the ‘American primeval forests! when I
could trace the divisions as accurately and distinctly as
I could in my own gerain-field, where a single furrow
was the line of division between a& crop of full-eared
wheat on the one hand, and of the more plebeian oats
on the other. In this case I knew the cause; for I had
said there shall be wheat here, and oats there, and it
was so; because the proper and necessary seed was
committed to the e@round, and the respective crops
sprang up accordingly.
In the new settlements my agricultural pursuits have
sometimes led me to witness ~ changes which seemed
456
altowether, to me, inexplicable. I will mention one of
the instances to which [I allude; and having related
what I myself witnessed, and made a few observations
respecting the sitnation where it took place, I will then
leave the matter to be acconnted for and explained by
the learned in Nature’s secrets—if they can. During
the winter season the whole of the timber was cut
down upon a piece of gronnd containing about twenty
acres. ‘This was in what was generally called the Beech
Woods, from the major part of the timber being beech ;
but where there were also small quantities of maple,
birch, ash, &c. During the following summer fire was
applied to this ‘‘ chopped fallow,’ as the prostrate
timber is called; and in the conrse of an hour all thie
dead leaves, the decayed timber, and the smaller branches
of that which had been standing the previous year,
were entirely consumed. Circumstances occurred which
prevented the remaining trunks of the trees from being
rolled together, in the usual way, and burned; so that
in the condition described, this twenty-acre field was
permitted to remain for several years. » After the lapse
of a year or two, the whole field became a plantation of
voung wild cherry-trees, although I am not aware thet
a single cherry-tree was growing on the spot, or near it;
at the time the timber was cut down. Some few of
(his species of cherry-tree were to be met with in various
parts of the surrounding woods; but it’ was altogether
an exceedingly scarce sort of timber. During: ‘the first
aud second year of the growth of ‘this’ young cherry
plantation, F took considerable; ‘pains in searching for
the cherry-stones (if such there were, or ever had been,)
by pulling the seedlings up by the roots, and then ex-
ainining the’soil as minutely and. carefully as possible.
But for all my: labour and research, I was not rewarded
by the discovery of a single seed or’stone! Had the
young trees been left unmolested, here was a piece of
eround, containing: twenty. acres, that’ would, in the
course of forty or filly years, (for this species of cherry
is of rapid’ erowth) have become ‘a perfect: forest of
cherry-trees to that extent.. Now permit me to ask; is
it probable that birds—for I have previously ‘stated: that
very fewinhabit the wilderness,.should have brought
hither all the cherry-stones from which so many thousand
seedlings (I have no other name by which to designate
them) sprung up in this identical spot? Or is it pos-
sible that all those young trees shonld ‘have sprung up
wvithout there being any seed (cherry-stones) in the
«round at all? > And supposing they were there, from
whence, or when did they come?
On otter occasions I have known on and hickories,
and maples cut down, and instead of their places be-
coming supplied by a new veneration of their own par-
ticular species, after the @round has been left unculti-
vated for a few years, a general and full crop of young
pine-trees- has sprung up. Now here again, who or
what could have brought the cones of some distant
pine-tree to this particular spot ? | And if they had been
brought, was it by mere accident that they were strewn
so regularly over the whole surface ?
Far into the interior of the continent of America, in
the midst of immense tracts of forest, you sometimes
fall in with small openings,—patches of ground from
which the Indians, or the early fur-traders, have taken
away the timber, or perhaps consumed it on the spot.
In some instances these places will be overgrown with
immense briers and brambles; bunt occasionally grass
will have sprung up, and there you may find as luxu-
riant plants of the common white clover as are to be
met with in any part of our own island, or even in the
rich pastures of Holland. Here again is a dilemma.
Hither birds or beasts (and none but wild ones have
ever been there!) must have brought the seed, or else
it must have lain dormant in the soil, for I know not
how many centuries, or the soil must have produced it
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
[Novemper 25, 1837
spontaneously. I have stated these things precisely «
they are; and all that I shall advance upert the poe
is, that I know them to be facts.
When trees tumble down in the forests throug
absolute age and decay, their places are generally
supplied by saplings, that have long -been struggling
in the shade near them, either of their own or some
other species. But when a chestnut-tree falls its place
is commonly filled by one of its own kind; fora num-
ber of sprouts shoot up from the root of the parent
while it is still standing, one of which taking the lead
of the rest, grows up in due time into a forest tree J
while the rest of them droop and die for want of proper
aliment. Ihave been able to trace distinctly three o
four generations of the chestnut; for, -owing to its
decaying so slowly, the old fallen trees do not wholly
disappear until their childrea and grand-children have
erown up, flourished, languished in old age, and at last
fallen beside them.
eh ee
THERE are now two weekly newspapers published in the
Society Islands, in the native or Sandwich language, one
called the Ke Kumu Hawaii, or Hawaiian Instructor, has”
arrived at its thirteenth number. It is published at Honos
lulu, the capital of the island of Oahu.” The other is called
Lama Hawatt, oy the Hawaiian Luminary, published in the
island of Nawi, an island: containing 35,000 souls. Both
publications are conducted by American missionaries. The
articles of hews are of various ‘kinds, chiefly of a moral and
religious character Hobart Town Courter.
Origin and Progressive Mistory of Coal. —Few persons
are aware of the remote and wonderful events in tlle economy
of our planet, and of the complicated applications of human
industry and science which are involved in the production
of coal, that supplies with fuel the metropolis of England
The most early stage to which-we can carry back its origin |
was among the swamps and forests: of the. primeval ear ‘th,
where it flourished in the form of gigantic calamites and
stately lepidodrenda and sigillarie. From their native bed:
these plants were torn away by storms and inundations of a
hot and humid climate, and transported into some adjacent
lake or estuary or sea. Here they floated on the water, till
they sank saturated’ to the bottom ;’ and being buried in the
detritus of adjacent lands, became tr ansferred to a new state
among the members of the mineral kingdom. <A long in-
terment followed, during which a course of chemical changes
and new combinations of their vegetable elements have con-
verted them to the mineral condition of coal. By the
elevating force of subterranean fires, these beds of coal
have been uplifted from beneath the waters to a new posi-
tion in the hills and mountains, where they are accessible
to the industry of man. From this fourth stage in its
advances, our coal has again been moved by the labours a
the miner, assisted by the arts and sciences that have co-
operated to produce the steam-engine and safety-lamp.
Returned once more to the hght of day, and a second time
committed to the water, it has, by the aid of navigation,
been conveyed to the scene of its next and most consider-
able change, by fire; a change during which it becomes
subservient to the most’ important wants and conveniences
of man. In this seventh stage of its long eventful history,
it seems to the vulgar eye to undergo annihilation; its
clements are indeed released from the mineral combinations
they have maintained for ages, but their apparent destruc:
tion is only the commencement of new successions Of
change and activity. Set free from their long imprison-
ment, they return to their native atmosphere, ‘from which
they were absorbed to take part in the primeval vegetation
of the earth. To-morrow they may contribute to the sub-
stance of timber in the trees of our existing forests, and
having for awhile resumed their place in the living vege-
table kingdom, may, ere long, be applied a second time to
the use and benefit of man. And when decay or fire shall
once consign them to the earth or to the atmosphere, the
same elements will enter on some further department of
their perpetual ministration in the economy of the material
world.— from Professor Buckland's Br idgewater Tr eatise,
LONDON: CHARLES KNIGHT & CO., 22, LUDGATE STREET.*
{ Printed by Wistntam Crowes and Sons, Stamford Street,)-
Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge.
Wovember 30, 1837.
Monthly Supplenient of
THE PENNY MAGAZINE
October 31 to
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» Elouse at White-
sold medal for the
Ele was soon after
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f 60/., where he re-
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ursue his studies at Rome
hall; and, four years afterwards, the
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introduced to the notice of Geor
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[Exterior of Sir John Soane’s House in Lincoln’s Inn Fields. |
bricklayer, in
he manifested
became a student of the
obtained in 1772 the silver medal for | with the then Academy pension 0
?
At an early age
fis father was a
Inu Fields on the 20th of January last, was born at
Vou. VI.
Sin Jonn Soaneg, who died at his house in ‘Lincoln’s
jumble circumstances.
a predilection for architecture ;
Reading in 1752.
Royal Academy ;
458
mained till 1780, when he returned to England.
1788, on the death of Sir Robert Taylor, he was ap-
pointed architect and surveyor to the Bank of England,
after severe competition, there being thirteen other can-
didates; and from that period he became a public pro-
fessional man. In 1791 he was appointed Clerk of the
Works at St. James’s Palace, was made architect to the
Board for managing the Royal Woods and Forests, in
1795, and was connected generally as architect with the
Houses of Parliament, and public buildings. In 1806
he was elected Professor of Architecture to the Royal
Academy; and in 1831. received the honour of knight-
hood *. -_.
On his retirement from business a few years ago, he
emploved himself in arranging and completing his house
and museum in Lincoln’s Inn Fields, with the view of
leaving it as a bequest to the public. For this purpose
he obtained an act of Parliament, vesting the property
in trustees. The whole, ieee! is now preserved as
he left it. The public are admitted, on application at
the house, during the months of April, May, and June ;
and at other periods of the year by an order from one
of the trustees, or at the discretion of the Curator, who
resides on the premises.
In visiting the honse and museum of Sir John Soane,
it must not be forgotten what his object was in thus
leaving them for the use and inspection of the public.
The house was a private house; as a private house it
is intended to remain. ‘To admit the pnblic indiscrimi-
nately into a small private house, in the same way as
they are adinitted into the British Museum, or any
other national depository of art, would uot only be
jucurring risk of loss and damage, or at least of great
deterioration, but would be defeating the wses of the
property. Sir John Soane’s obiect was to show how
much could be done in a very limited space; how a
dwelling-house, without losing: its domestic character
aud privacy, could be made to combine, at almost every
turning, much of those varied and fanciful effects which
constitute the poetry of architecture and painting. In
fact, if the expression may be permitted, the house,
though consisting only of a few rooms of but limited
extent, is an architectural kaleidoscope, presenting a
great variety of combinations within a very sinall
space. The eye of criticism may object to many of
the details; ¢izs may be said to be puerile, that to be
finical; objections may be taken to some of the arrange-
ments, aud the whole may be said to be too crowded.
But no man can visit the house, and examine it with
leisurely attention, without feeling that its general com-
binations and arrangements have been produced by no
ordinary mind. It is a model-house, intended for archi-
tects, artists, and persons of taste. Let them: dissent
as much as they please; still it furnishes hints and
sugeestions, which they may profit by and improve
upon.
Another thing must not be forgotten. The house
was not built for the purpose, but has been adapted
from time to time. This Sir John Soane munch re-
oretted, as it prevented him from giving a character of.
unity to the entire building and collection.
¥'rom these observations it will be seen that Sir John
Soane’s house is intended more for the benefit of a
class, than for the use of the public indiscriminately.
Hundreds may visit it, and from want of education
(which in most cases cnables ns properly to appre-
ciate), see only a small house prettily laid out, with fine
pictures, and not a few of what are popnlarly consi-
dered as mere curiosities. Still the public are ad-
mitted on certain pays of each week during the three
mouths of the year already mentioned ; and “during the
rest of the year, artists and other persons who wish to
* These very brief particulars are taken, from a memoir of Sir
John Soane iu the ‘Gentlemai’y Magazine? |
MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF
In |
ac a ee m= rece chek nem ianemeni on oneal caaaeiitameedammees oemmendimneeneientemmemmemnetiesiemmemememmeens trae cccinalltt cee ee
a TD e-
[NoveMBER 30,
view the place not merely as a show, but for considera-
tion aud study, will find little difficulty in obtaming
admittance by an order from a trustee, or by application
to the curator, Mr. G. Bailey, who residagin in the honse,
and whose affability and politeness it is only justice to
acknowledge.
Sir John Soane’s house stands on the north side of
the square, called Lincoln’s Inn Fields, opposite to the
College of Surgeons. ‘The exterior of the house is
represented in the wood-cut on the first page of the
Supplement. ‘The galleries erected in front of the
house render if conspicuons (without being very re-
markable), when compared with the plain brick walls
of the houses on each side of it.
The house, or domestic portion, lies in the front part
of the building ; the breakfast room, museum, picture
room, &c., are in buildings erected behind, and have the
advantage of domes, or skylights. We shall describe
the front part of the building first.
The two windows on the eround floor are the southern
lights of the dining-room and library. The three
windows in the gallery above light the front drawing-
room, and command a very good view of the planted
inclosure of Lincoln’s Inn Fields, and of the square
generally. A much more extensive view, liowever, is
to be obtained from the chamber floor, the ‘‘ loggia”’ of
which ts decorated with two statues in terra cotta, which
are copied from the Caryatides, in the front of the
temple of Pandrosos, in Athens.
On entering the house, we find ourselves in a hand-
some vestibule, coloured to imitate porphyry, and which
is separated from the lobby that leads to the principal
staircase by a door enriched with scriptural subjects on
coloured glass. Leaving the dining-room, and the
various rooms, museuin, &c., at the back part of the
house for after examination, we may at once ascend the
staircase to the north and south drawing-rooms.
The staircase is small; but the judicions employmen:
of pictures and mirrors gives it the appearance of spa-
ciousness and lightness. One of the pictures is a scene
from the ‘ Merry Wives of Windsor,’ painted in Rome
by J. Durno, for Alderman Boydell. In a recess on
the staircase are two pictures by Henry Howard, R:A.,
the one designated the Vision of Shakspeare, the other
the last scene in King Lear. At the end of the recess
is a cast from the bust of Shakspeare in the church of
Stratford-upon-Avon ; aud in the window are ten com-
partments of ancient painted glass. The mirrors on the
east side of the staircase not only serve to give a double
of the pictures on the west side, but enable the spec-
tator to view them under different aspects.
The drawing-rooms are exceedingly rich and chaste.
On a summer evening, when the beams of the sun are
playing through the coloured glass, h@hting up every
object 1 in the two apartments with gorgeous hues, sitting
in the front room, and looking towards the trees and
shrubbery of Lincoln's Inu Fields, one might almost be
cheated out of the belief of being in the heart of Lon-
don, within a few paces of Holborn, and not very far
from noisy Fleet Street and the Straad. OF course on
a dark, wet, disagreeable day we cannot expect to see
either this room, or the greater part of the house or
museum, with that same advautage. Sir John Soane
was very sensitive on this point, and was reluctant to
admit a stranger to see his house when the day was
under those murky influences which are said at certain
seasons so peculiarly to characterise- London.
The ceiling of the front drawing-room is flat, in
compartments, with architectural decorations. “ This.
room,” says Sir John Soane, in his description of the
house, “‘ was formerly lighted from the south by three
large windows, which mil into a loggia, commanding
views of the eardens of Lincoln’s Inn Fields, This
1837,] THE PENNY
logeia is now converted into a gallery, extending the.
whole length of the room, and is decorated with basso-
relievos, representing the morning and evening of
life, with bnsts and statues of illustrious persons, and
various architectural decorations. On the north side
are folding doors, communicating with the north draw-
Ilg-room ; opposite is a large window, richly deco-
rated with architectural ornaments in coloured glass,
with a book-case beneath. There are likewise two
smaller windows, with pedestal book-cases under them.
In the piers between these windows, and on the south
side of this room, are cases with folding-doors, en-
riched externally and internally with a series of de-
sigus for a royal palace; for the western entrance
into the metropolis; for the new law courts at West-
minster; the new council offices in Downing Street ;
a sepulchral chapel to the memory of his late Royal
Highness the Duke of York; a design for a mauso-
ley, made in 1775; a desien for a sepulchral church,
intended to have been erected at Tyringham; and
views of the Bank of England, showing the exterior
and interior of that great national edifice,’ &c. &c.”
The north drawing-room is hung in the same manner
as the south room. ‘The view “from, the one into the
other is very fine. Among the pictures which decorate
the walls of these rooms is one by Jones, of the open-
ing of new London Bridge. Adjoining the drawing-
rooms is the ‘Tivoli Recess—a smal] room richly deco-
rated, lighted by a window of painted glass, and con-
taining, among other, objects a model of Chantrey’s
Sleeping Child.
We need not describe the apartments on the floors
above the drawing-rooms, except to state that they are
all fitted up in accordance with what Sir John Soane
considered appropriate to their domestic character. The
model-room will be found interesting to the, general
visiter as well as to the artist. ‘The centre of the room
Is occupied bya “ Pedestal ”—an erection which may
he compared to two tables, one placed over the other,
each supported by elegant and slender pillars. On the
len table is a large model of the ruins of Pompeii, as
they appeared in 1820; above are models, in cork, of
the temples at Pestum, the little temple at Tivoli, the
Pantheon, the Arch of Constantine, &c. &c. sata
the room are numerous architectural designs of public
and private buildings, which form, Sir John Soane
says, “‘only a small part of the labours of a long and
active life, enthusiastically devoted to the study of the
theory and practice of architecture.” Before descending
the staircase, the visiter may be reminded of the rather
extensive view of London to be obtained from the eal-
lery, or logeia, of the second floor: that is to say, if
the day be favourable for the purpose.
Once more landed in the lobby at the foot of the
staircase, the visiter may pass into the breakfast-room,
a large apartment at the back of the main building or
house. It has four doors,—one through which we have
supposed the visiter to have passed “from. the lobby,
another communicating with the dining-room and
library, and the other two at the other side of the. room,
leading into the museum and picture-room, &c. These
doors are so contrived as to give,.when open and shut,
very different aspects to the room. In the centre ‘of
the room rises a spherical ceiling, springing from four
segment arches, supported by the same number of!
pilasters, forming a canopy. In the dome is an octan-
cular lantern, with eight scriptural subjects, surmounted
with a bell-light. ‘The north and south ends of the
room,are also lighted by skylights; and there is, be-
sides, a. window by hich looks into a court, called the
Monument Court. That Sir John Soane bestowed con-
siderable attention on this room is evident from the way
in which he speaks of it:—‘‘ The views from this room
into the Monument Court and into the Museum, the
MAGAZIN E. A459
mirrors in the ceiling, and the looking-elasses, - com-
bined with the variety of outline and general arrange-
ment in the design and decoration of this limited space,
present an almost infinite succession of those fariciful
effects which constitute the poetry of architecture.”
here are two portraits of Napoleon in the breakfast-
room; one of them by Isabée, esteemed a good like-
ness, the other taken in his twenty-ninth year, at the
request of Madame Beauharnois, afterwards the Em-
press Josephine. ‘The artist, Francisco Goma, gives in a
letter, written in 1797, the following account bs the cir-
cumstances under which he executed his commission :—
“* Hereis the portrait of the illustrious Bonaparte, which
I hope will prove as agreeable to the lady as to you, my
dear friend, who have procured me the honour of such
a pleasing commission: all those who have seen it flatter
me so much as to tell me that it is a very goad likeness.
You, gentlemen of Milan, will ascertain if this be true,
and give your judgment. If the shortness of the time
had not prevented me, I should have attempted some-
thing more worthy of the subject, and of the person for
whom it is destined. As to the dress, I have done
nothing more than shown the form of the bust; a frock
with a ‘collar lined with white, and an epaulette on the
left shoulder, is the uniform he usually wears, and is,
as I have been told, his field- -dress—perhaps at Milan
you have seen him in a general’s uniform. It was on
the 14th [March, L797] at neon that he arrived in this
town [Verona], attended hy an escort of more than
200 horse. A report was spread that he was going to
set out immediately for Bassano ; I resolved, therefore,
to write to him, entreating him Vs erant me jane favour
of a few moments’ conversation : Hi T sent him the letter
of Madame la Générale, informing him I should not stir
from home until I received his orders. Soon after he sent
one of his aides- -de-camp, accompanied’ by a nobleman
of this town, with an invitation from the General, who
did me the honour to ask me to dine with him. The
officer advised me to take my pencil, in order to sketch
the General’s likeness as well as I could, because he
could not eive me more than half an hour before and
after dinner, I answered, I could do it as well on can-
"uss aS on paper, if he would allow me two short
sittings, one before and the other after dinner. Having
sent the canvass and my box of colours, I weut with
those sentlemen to General Bonaparte, who received
ine with ereat politeness and kindness, and told me he
was very sorry that his immediate departure would not
allow him to do justice to my abilities, nor to the person
who asked for his picture: but as it was to comply with
the commands of a lady for whom he had a very reat
esteem, he would force time, and make impossibility
possible ; and asking me to make use of the few mo-
ments that remained before dinner, I quickly began
with my colours the portrait Which you see. At a
quarter past two I had laid in the head and figure ;
and at three e’clock, the dinner being finished, I again
began to paint with good spirits, hecause I saw that
they \ were much pleased with what I had already done.
As I had used a oreat deal of drying oil, I found that
the colour of the head beean to sink, so that I could
paint over it without inconvenience. In little more than
an hour I was able to fix the physiognomy, and give it
that thoughtful expression which you know is so striking
in his countenance. Finally, when the hour of depar-
tire came, I was so bold as to ask permission to follow
him to Vicenza, or to Bassano, in order to improve the
head, and give it a finished appearance. _ His answer
was, that nothing was more easy, as he should stop
some time, at one or other of those places; and that I
might go with him in his chaise, and consider myself
in perfect security both in going and returning. We
departed; but on our arrival at San Bonifizio, between
the lower Caldiaro and Montebello, cries of hall? halt .
3s N
460
would have made ny heart beat with fear, had I not
been in such good company. ‘Two couriers, two offi-
cers, and fifteen dragoons caine to us; they had been
sent by General Massena, who was at Bassano, with
important dispatches for Gencral Bonaparte. We
alighted, and-in a few minutes after, the general sent
me word I might go to bed and sleep until broad day-
light; but: knowing I had a great deal to do before
setting out, aud that after breakfast. he would give ine
the last sitting, I vot up at sunrise, after having passed
a sleepless night from the noise of the horses, which
were continually coming and going. Having prepared
everythiny as well as [ could, | went into the room, and
found many officers breakfasting, according to the cus-
toms of the country: shortly after I did the saine, and
found the general very merry and affable. Iwas going
to begin my work, when there arrived an officer and
ten dragoons—once nore the general began to write,
and to despatch officers and couriers. Finally I did
nly best, and as much as circumstances would allow of.
When E took leave, the general ordered a chiaise to
couduct. me to Verona, with an escort of four men on
horseback. In short this is an account of my campaign
with the French, who, althongh they had no more than
220 inen, made every ole e tremble who looked at them,”
The artist adds, ** As to the payment, you must tell the
lady, his frieud [Josephine] that I cannot nor will not
hear of it; the honour she has done me being of much
greater value to ine thai any other price.”
We may complete our snrvey of what is strictly the
house of Sir John Soane, by stepping from the breakfast-
room into the dining-room and library, before Visiting’
the museum and picture-room.
The dining-roum and library, which, with the excep-
tion of the hall and lobby, ocenpy the front ground-floor,
are two rooms thrown into one; the north end being
the dining-room, the south eud the library. ‘The sepa-
ration between the two rooms is marked by a canopy,
composed of semi-circnlar arches. ‘* The ceiling of the
dining-room Is flat, im compartments, showing the
construction of the floor above; among the scriptural
subjects on glass, with which the window im the north
eud of this room is enriched, are the Creation of the
World and the Day of Judgment: these works are
very ancient, and in excellent preservation. From this
window, the Monument Court, with its architectural
Pasticcio, and assemblage of ancient and modern art,
and particularly the frieze of Grecian sculpture, are
seen to great advantaye: the levers of Grecian art will
he gratified with comparing the ontline of this work
with the two natural productions on the sides of the
window, found in the hollow of an old ash pollard.”
Over the fire-place, on the east side of the dining-
room, is a portrait of Sir John Soane, by Sir Thomas
Lawrence,—alimost the last picture painted by that cele-
brated artist: facing it, on the west side, is a picture of
Love aud Beauty, by Sir Joshua Reynolds.
Dhe ceiling of the library, like that of the dining-
room, 1s 1n compartments. On the east side of the
room, over the chimney-piece, upon the cornice of the
book-cases, spring's a laree flat arcli, forming a recess;
aud, to conuect the symmetry, there are two semi-
circular arches, similar to those on the sonth side of the
diuing-room. ‘The west side corresponds in its archi-
tecture and decoration with the east side, and the
architecture of the sonth side is in the same style, with
semi-circular arches to complete the symmetry of the
whole. The internal surfaces of the shutters of the
two windows which light the library are faced with
looking- glass; and we may here remark, by the way,
that glass, plain, coloured, and in a great variety of
form, “has been plentifully, but on the whole very judi-
cionsly, employed by Sir John Soane in the decoration
of his hquse; in his own words, it ‘ produces au infi-
MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF
|
[NovemsBer 30,
nite variety of scenery.” Viewing the dining-room and
library as one, we may cousider the apartment as one
of the finest in the house. ‘The windows are three in
number—two to the front, looking into the street, and
the third looking into the Monument Court; ball of
the entire, we may adopt Sir John’s opinion, that “the
book-cases, vases, busts, looking-glasses, mirrors, and
above all, the iMitabie works ae" two of the most dis-
tinguished painters (Reynolds and Lawrence) not only
of this, but perhaps of any age—united with the assem-
blage of ancient and miter art in the Monument
Court, which make a rich back-ground to the whole,—
are all admirably arranged, and produce many power-
ful effects of architectural scenery.’
The museum, or collection generally, is contained
ina range of buildings erected at the back of the house,
and is divided into a variety of apartments, each fitted
up with some specific object in view. The visiter will
probably, on his first visit, be a little puzzled in going:
from one room to another, until he begins to under-
stand the intention of the arrangement. “Thus there is
the mnseum and sepulchral chamber, a view of which
is given in the engraving on page 461; the Egyptian
crypt and catacombs ; the monk’s cell, oratory, parlour,
and tomb; the cloisters and Monuliint Court; the pic-
ture room; and several passages and recesses.
The chief object i in the sepuichral chamber is the cele-
brated Belzoni Sarcophag us. Only a small portion of
this sarcophagus is seen in the engraving, the view
having been taken from a gallery in the museum look-
ing down towards it. But though the sarcophagus is
not seen, the view will give the reader an idea of the
crouping of the objects in the museum.
Belzoni discovered the sarcophagus while he was pur-
suing his researches in the tombs of the kings near
Thebes. ‘The great tomb which Belzoni opened in
this valley [Biban el Molonk—literally, the tombs of
the kings] is one of the most interesting discoveries
that have been made in Egypt. Alter proceeding a
considerable distance, he came to a well thirty feet t deep,
and fourteen feet by iwelve feet three inches wide, which
he supposed to have been constructed for the purpose
of receiving the rain-water, and keeping the rest of the
chambers dry. * * * At first, there appeared to
be no passage beyond the well, but on the side opposite
to where Belzoni stood, on first approaching this shaft,
he saw a hole in the wall, which some previous adven-
turer, Greek or Roman, must have made; for the
Egyptians had plastered the whole up, giving if an
appearance just as if the well was the termination of
the tomb. After passing through the little aperture,
Belzoni came to a beautiful chamber, twenty-seven feet
six inches, by twenty-five feet ten inches, in which were
four pillars, each three feet square. ‘This room, which
Belzoni calls the entrance hall, was painted like the
rest of the chambers, and the approaches to it, already
described. It would be impossible to give any clear
description of this tomb without a plan. Besides n-
merous corridors and staircases, it contained six large
rooms, and either five or seven small ones—we cannot
tell which, for Belzoni’s words are not exact. In the
last great chamber he found the carcass of a bull
embalmed with asphaltum ; and also a number of those
small wooden mummy-shaped figures, six or eight
inches long, which are covered with hieroglyphics and
pitch. But the greatest curiosity was found in one of
the other chambers, which has an arched roof, cut we
must suppose, like the rest of the chamber, ont of the
solid rock: this was a sarcophagus of white alabaster,
nine feet five inches long, three feet seven inches wide,
and two inches thick. It is translucent when a candle
is put into it. Both the inside and outside are scnlp-
tured with figures not more than two inches high. The
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{Interior of the Museum. ]
cover was found in digging for the entrance into the |
| trouble both to Mr. Salt and Belzoni.
tomb on the outside, where it had been carried by some
former rifler of the sepulchre; but unfortunately it was
broken into several pieces*.”
Belzoni himself speaks about this sarcophagus with
a very excusable feeling of triumph, and says that the
day on which he discovered it was the proudest of his |
life. “I cannot,” he adds, “ give an adequate idea of
this beautiful and invaluable piece of antiquity, and
can only say that nothing has been brought into Europe
from Eeypt that can be compared with it.” The sar-
* ‘Egyptian Antiquities,’ Library of Entertaining Knowledge,
vol. ii, Ina note it 1s said, “ Though generally called an ala-
baster sarcophagus, this is not correct. It is not alabaster (sulphate
of lime) but arragonite (a carbonate of lime), which is a harder
stone, and effervesces with an acid: alabaster dovs not.’? The
same work informs us that sarcophagi, being expensive, were
probably only used as coffins for kings and weaithy people.
“ Sarcophagus (sagxopéyos) is a Greck word, literally signifying
Mesh eater.”
cophagus, however, was destined to be a source of much
Mr. Salt had
employed Belzoni, and paid his expenses, and considered
| the discovered antiquities as his own property: but
Belzoni differed from him in opinion, and laid claim to
a share of the sarcophagus in particular, refusing to
give his cousent to the sale of it unless for a large sum.
The sarcophagus, with other Egyptian antiquities,
was offered to the British Museum, and it remained
there for a considerable time; but, after much tedious
negotiation, the Trustees of the Museum refused to
purchase it, considering the price too high. Sir John
Soane must tell the rest of the story :—
‘This sarcophagus, discovered by Belzoni, and co-
veted by the Russian, French, and Bavarian govern-
ments, was, at an enormous and incredible labour and
difficulty, transported from the banks of the Nile to
those of the Thames, and deposited with the other
results of Belzoui's unceasing researches, in the British
®
469
Mitseum ; there it remained a considerable time. The
sum asked for this relic of Egyptian magnificence was_
2000/., which being considered greater than its value,
the idea of purchasing it for the ‘British Museum, after
much negotiation, was abandoned. Being informed of
this circumstance, and considering this unique monu-
ment of inestimable value, [ expressed my readiness to
oive the sum required. The offer was accepted: and in
a few days, by taking down a large portion of an
external wall, I had the inexpressible pleasure of seeing
it safely deposited } in the most secure part of my house :
there it now is, and will be, so long as this invaluable
treasure remsins in England.”
The sarcophagus is supported on four short pillars,
which raise it nearly a foot above the level of the pave-
ment. Underneath it are nineteen fragments of the
cover. ‘Fhe interior surface of the bottom of the sarco-
phagus has a figure, probably of the person whose body
was deposited in it; this extends nearly the whole
leneth, the spaces around the figure, and between the
body and arms, being covered with written characters.
‘The sides of the sarcophagus are divided into compart-
ments, and covered with characters and figures small
and delicately formed; the figures seem to represent
men in procession, in boats, &c., and are perhaps indi-
cative of the principal] events of the life of the deceased.
“This marvellous effort of human industry and perse-
verance, ” says Sir John Soane, who set a high value on
it, ‘Sis supposed to be at least 3000 years old ; ; it is of |
one piece of alabaster, between nine and ten feet in
length; is considered of pre-eminent interest, not only
as a work of hnman skill and labour, but as illustrative
of the customs, art, religion, and government of a very
ancient and learned people. ‘The surface of this monu- |
ment is covered externally and internally with hiero-
elyphics, comprehending a written language that seems
at this time unintelligible.”
Adjoining the sepulchral chamber is an apartment :
termed the Egyptian crypt, the ceiling of which is com-
posed of massive blocks of stone, supported by stone
pillars. It contains various architectural objects, models
in cork of Stonehenge, temples, sepulchres, &c. &c.
Of the museum, a better idea will be obtained from
the engraving, than from a mere verbal description. |
It presents a rich assemblage of works of art, tastefully
and singularly grouped—busts, vases, antique orna-
ments, architectural decorations, models, &c. Among
the more remarkable objects in the museum are, a Cast
of the Apollo Belvidere, taken from the statue itself;
another of a colossal bust of Minerva; statues of the
Ephesian Diana, E:sculapius, and a small one of Venus ;
an antique solar dial, supported by Atlas; a cast of
the Venus di Medici; busts of distinguished Romans;
a cast of a colossal bust of Osiris; with candelabra,
vases, basso-relievos, urns, &c. &c. , These are all
arranged in different parts of the musenm, but will be
easily recognised by the visiter. ‘The chief matter of
admiration is not the collection itself, though that is
certainly rich, considering its extent, but the manner in
which the various objects are combined.
‘The presses and book-cases of a recess in the museum
are filled with books of architectural designs by Inigo
Jones, Sir Christopher Wren, Sir W. Chanter S, ‘Robert
Adam, and other architects. These, which would be a
treasure for the study of the artist, are at present locked
up, aud are inaccessible to the reneral visiter: but the
trustees are considering: some plan by which Sir John
Soane’s intentions may be best carried out, and the
books rendered available, consistently with their preser-
vation and safety.
We now come to a department of the collection, or
museum, of which different minds will form Anansi
cpinions, accordingly as they may think the idea the:
product of poetry or quackery. The fairest way of
| ae ett
-~
MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF
[NovemzeEr 30,
| judging it will be, to endeavour to enter into Sir John
Soane’s meaning. He wished to produce, within a
small space, the various contrasting effects of ecclesias-
tical architecture. Unwilling, however, to suppose the
place to have been for ever untenanted, he conjured up
the vision of a monk, whose cell, oratory, monastery,
and grave, are all here to be seen. Nay, the menk, in
his day, was a man of refined taste as well as severe
austerity ; and to accommodate him, when he was in-
clined to leave his cell to enjoy a little of the comfort
of life, there is his pariour, an elegzant room, in which
he might relax himself, without the danger ‘of losing
sight of his higher duties. The “ parloir of Padre
Giovanni” is fitted up with stern simplicity. A “dim
religious light” fills the room; through its window of
coloured olass is seen the ruins of a monastery, and
close at hand are his cell and oratory, and also his
grave: for this ‘‘ shadow of a shade” is now dead and
buried. The following is Sir John Soane’s description
of the monk’s cell and oratory, his parlour, monastery,
and grave :—
‘* In the cell is a niche for the holy water, and in the
oratory a highly-finished crucifix In wood ; also a small
library, sundry relics and missals, and a class, remark-
able for an inscription on it, taken out of a convent in
Flanders during the French revolution.
¥ Returning from the oratory, you proceed to the
parloir of Padre Giovanni. The scriptural subjects,
represented on glass, are suited to the destination of the
place, and increase its sombre character. ‘The highly-
finished representation on* copper, over the chimney-
piece, of a martyred saint, and the Dutch engraving, in
1703, from a gold coin in the possession of the Grand
Master of Malta, satd to be an exact drajt of one of
the thirty pieces of silver for which Judas betrayed our
Saviour, the other works of intellectual and highly-
gifted talent, combined with the statues in terra cotta,
and the numerous models and works of art, taken
chiefly from ecclesiastical monuments, which decorate
the ceiling and walls of this room, impress the spectator
with reverence for the monk. Looking to the north
there is a view into the oratory, where the Crucifixion,
already noticed, is seen to great advantage. From
Padre Giovanni's room the ruins of a monastery arrest
the attention. ‘The interest created in the mind of the
spectator on visiting the abode of the monk; will not be
weakened by wandering among the ruins of his once
noble monastery. ‘This rich canopy and other decora-
tions of this venerable spot, are objects which cannot
fail to produce the most powerful sensations in the
mind, of the piety of onr forefathers, who raised such
structures for the worship of the Almighty Disposer of
events.
“The tomb of the monk, composed from the remaiuis
of an old monument placed over the vault of the Bosan-
quet family in Laytonstone churchyard, adds to the
gloomy scenery of this hallowed place, wherein atten-
tion has been given to every minute circumstance. The
pavement, composed of the tops and bottoms o” broken
bottles and pebbles, found amongst the gravel] dug out
for the foundation of the monastery, and disposed in
syminetry of design, furnishes an admirable lesson of
simplicity and economy, and shows the unremitting
assiduity of the pious monk. ‘The stone structure at
the head of the monk’s grave contains the remains of
Fanny, the favourite companion, the delicht, the solace
of his leisure hours, whose portrait, ‘painted by James
Ward, R.A., may be seen in the breakfast-room.
‘Alas! poor Fanny!’ ©
It thus appears, that though the monk had only an
imaginary lease of life, his dor was a veritable beast 5
and we have here, therefore, something like a éom bing
tion of the elements of poetry—the union of fact with
fiction.
1837.]
Leaving the ruins of the monastery, tle attention is
next directed to a small internal inclosute, termed the
Monument Court. This, which hes at the back of the
dining-room, and on the east of the breakfast-room, the
visiter may have repeatedly noticed, from some of thie
several windows in the house which look into it. “ In
the centre of this court is an architectural pasticcio of
about thirty feet high. This pasticcio is composed of
the pedestal upon which the cast of the Belvidere Apollo,
now in the museum, was charged; a marble capital of
Hindi architecture ; a capital in stone, like those of the
temple at Tivoli, and of the same dimensions; and
another capital of Gothic invention. ‘These are sur-
rounded by architectural groups of varied forms, com-
posed of fragments from different works, chiefly in cast
iron, placed one upon the other; the whole terminated
with a pine-apple.
“* Vhe.walls of this court are decorated with frag-
ments of ancient and modern art; on the lower part,
from the works of Inigo Jones, Robert Adam, and other
distinguished artists. One of the figures, from the
attic story of the old building of Furnival’s Inn, is here
preserved, to show the state of art when that structure
was erected. Upon the east and west parapets are
seen the Winged Mercury, two small marble statues of
modern Italian sculpture, several Torsi, and other
pieces of ancient and modern sculpture. Most of the
objects comprising this assemblage of ancient and mo-
dern art will be advantageously seen from the rooms
on the ground floor, particularly the beautiful circular
frieze of Grecian sculpture, purchased at Lord Bess-
borough’s sale at Roehampton.”
The picture-room is small: but by an ingenious con-
tiivance, is made to hold a large number of pictures.
This is by folding-shutters, which are hung on each
side with pictures, as is also the wall. Besides the
saving of space effected by this contrivance, the visiter
is enabled to view:the pictures under different lights,
by simply moving the shutters. The room is of course
lighted from the top. The ceiling is most elaborately
enriched with plaster ornaments in compartments, form-
ing arched canopies.
On the iuterior surface of the folding shutters on
the north side, and on the wall, are Hogarth’s pictures
of the Rake’s Progress. These belonged formerly
to Alderman Beckford, the father of the author of
‘Vathek.’ Hogarth’s Humours of an Election are also
in this room, two on the same side, and two on the
wall opposite to where the Rake’s Progress is placed.
These two series of originals from the pencil of [io-
garth would, of themselves, form an ample induce-
ment to visit the Picture-room. But the collection
is otherwise very fine. On the east end are three de-
signs for the decoration of a theatre; a picture of poul-
try by Sir Francis Bourgeois; two drawings of ruius
by Clerisseau ; and Milton dictating to his daughters,
by Richard Westall, R.A. On the right and left of
this picture, is a View, by Canaletti, of the Rialto and
the Piazza San Marco, in Venice, formerly in the col-
lection of the Earl of Bute. Under these pictures are
four drawings of ruins by Clerisseau, and a inacnificent
view in Venice by Canaletti. At the west end of the
room is a portrait of Sir Francis Bourgeois, R.A.; a
picture of a Persian Jady worshipping the Rising Sun,
by Mrs. Cosway ; a landscape by Zuccarelli; the land-
ing of Richard II. at Ravensburg by William Hamilton,
R.A.; the Aldobrandi Marriage; the Cheat Detected,
by Edward Bird, R.A.; and over the interior of the
shutters, on each side of the entrance of the room, are
nine drawings of the ruins at Pestum, by Piranes! ;
five by Clerisseau; and two by Zucchi. Aimong other
pictures on the south side is a view of Greenwich Hos-
pital and the River, taken on the Isle of Dogs, by
A. W. Calcott, R.A.
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
A. landscape by the same artist |
is placed om the south side, over Hogarth’s pictures ; !
4638
and on the south side also is placed the original design,
by Str Jaines ‘Phoruhill, of the ceiling in the Great
Hall at Greenwich; the interior of au ancient edifice
by Clerisseau; Kirkstall Abbey, by J. M. W. Turner,
R.A.; and two perspective views of the interior of the
new Masonic Hall, in the Freemason’s Tavern. _
Alluding to hinself Sir John Soane says, that on the
south side, on the interior surface of the folding shutters
lu front, are four architectural designs—‘ under, them,
architectural visions of early fancy, and wild effusions
of a mind glowing with an ardent and enthusiastic
desire to attain professional distinction in the gay morn-
ing of youth: Palmyra and Balbec sugyested the idea
of the arrangement in tlnis assemblage, which is en-
riched with the funeral procession of the imuiortal
Nelson. Ina line with this composition of fancy and
imagination, is a series of designs of various buildings,
erected in different parts of Great Britain, and in the
cities of London and Westminster; also views of the
exterior and interior of the Bank of England.
‘© On the exterior surface of the second shutters are
twelve views of the interior of the stock offices, and the
exterior of that great national edifice, the Bank of
Kingland, which have been noticed in the ‘ Pursuits of
Literature,’ and in other works, with all the severity of
¢iticism.”
Sir John Soane, who was always sensitively alive to
criticism, quotes the passage in the ‘ Pursuits of Litera-
ture’ to which he alludes :—
“ The arch Palladian, and the Parian stone,
The pride of Chambers and of Soane.”
“'Two celebrated architects. The professional know-
ledge of Sir W. Chambers, Knight (of most heroic
tnemory), was profound and substantial. Mr. Soane
[he had not then been knighted] has more airiness of
desion, and is certainly a man of information and in-
gvenuity; but he indulges himself a little too much in
extravaganzas and whims—see the Bank.”
On the interior surface of the second folding shut-
ters on the south side of the picture-room, are several
drawings of churches, a design for a western entrance
into the metropolis at Hyde Park Corner, a design for
a royal palace made in Rome, and a design for the
entrance into Downing Street, Whitehall; with copies
of the designs for a triumphal bridge, which obtained
for the author the gold medal of the Royal Academy,
procured him the notice of George Iil., and was the
cause of his being sent to Rome to pursue his studies.
The opeuing of these shutters presents a view of the
upper part of the Monk’s room, and the recess in it.
In the back of the recess is a large window glazed with
Scriptural subjects. On the sides of the window and
of the recess are a number of drawings, chiefly archi-
tectural. .
In the preceding brief description of the house and
inuseum of Sir John Soane, several apartments, cham-
bers, &c., have not been noticed. Neither have we-
noticed with particularity all the objects of art in the
collection, ‘Thus, in the north drawing-room are the
cabinets, coutaining gems, intaglios, and cameos ; there
are statues and busts on the staircase—piciures and
vases in the breakfust and dining-rooms, &c. &c.—all
of which are so placed as to produce very pleasing
effects, of which a minute description would convey
nothing. De Lamartine, in his travels, often expresses
a regret that poetry has to labour by many words to
convey a description, which painting places before the
eye at once. ‘This regret may be applied to the pre-
sent description of Sir John Soane’s house. To have
described the whole minutely, would be tedious to the
reader who might not be able to visit them: while the
visiter will be enabled, from the description given, to
have a general idea of what he is going to see, and thus
turn his visit to some practical account.
And what, it may be asked, is the practical use of
464
Sir John Soane’s house and museum ?
come within our province, at present, to criticise. Al]
we aim at is, to let the public know that a man who,
by industry, perseverance, and talent, made himself
conspicuous, and acquired a large fortune, has left a
valuable collection for their use, under certain restric-
tions; and also’ to give them a gcneral idea of the
nature of the collection. Let, therefore,as many as
can, avail themselves of their privilege. The house is
a study for all, for our domestic architecture is far
from being what it might be, under the control of cor-
rect taste. The painter, the house decorator, and all
who have a little money to spend on the ornamenting
of their dwellings, may go to see it, and return with
improved ideas of how a house might be rendered at
ouce comfortable and elegant. ‘They cannot expect to
vie with a house, the decorating of which was the de-
lieht, the amusement, the hobby, of an architect, and a
man of considerable fortune. Nor wonld its fastidious
eleoance be at all requisite for people in the middle
ranks of life, who love to enjoy comfort in the midst of
their. families,
less mediocrity and extreme refinement.
As to the museum, certainly an apology appears re-
quisite for some of its details—for the monastery and
monk’s abode savour not a little of that trifling spirit
which creates mimic waterfalls and builds interesting
ruins. Yet one almost fancies that the venerable archi-
tect, so sensitive about his character and fame, frowns,
from the monk’s parlour, on any attempt’ to apologize
for any creation of his, costing him, as it did, thought,
time, and money. Let the reader examine them before
he condemns. If the idea be sanctioned at all, it must
be admitted that, in the present instance, the details
are very well executed. Sir John Soane appears to
have acted on the maxim—let there be variety, and let
each variety be unique of its kind. And great variety
there certainly is. Sepulchral chamber, Egyptian crypt,
catacombs, monastery, and monk’s abode, are all com-
bined in a small space, and each presents something
striking in its arrangement.
The first of what may be termed the ‘ official” de-
scriptions of Sir John Soane’s house was written by
Mr. Britton, assisted by Mr. Leeds, in a 4to. work, in-
tended to illustrate the union of architecture, sculpture,
and painting, as exemplified in it. Sir John himself
wrote a 4to. description, which he dedicated to the Duke
of Sussex. This was about five or six years ago.
Having, since that time, altered and extended his col-
lection, he printed a larger edition, both in Enelish and
in French, in which his own account is interspersed by
comments from the pen of a lady. Neither of the
editions of Sir John’s description were, in the language
of the bookselling trade, “ published.” Of the ‘latter
edition, which was printed in 1835, only 150 copies
were struck off, of which several were presented to
public institutions. It contains a number of various
views and plans of the house and museum, with copies
of several of his own designs, such as that of the tri-
umphal bridge, which procured him the gold medal of
the Royal Academy, as already mentioned in a pre-
ceding portion of this Supplement. A copy of this
description lies in the house, and may be consulted by
the visiter.
Sir John Soane, in different parts of his description,
speaks of his house and collection as evidences of what
may be accomplished by industry and perseverance.
Ile speaks, also, with satisfaction of what, thereby, he
was enabled to do for the encouragement of art. Let
him have the full merit which he claims. He was the
‘ architect” of his own fortune: for though, by his
marriage, he eventually inherited a considerable property,
still he was one of those men who ‘ make themselves.”
“The race is not always to the swift, nor the battle to
the strong,”
But there is a medium between taste-
and the best abilities reqmre frequently the |
MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT.
It does not | aid of circumstances to brine them forward.
[November 30, 1887.
But we
may rest assured that industry and perseverance are
prime ingredients in success. People frequently coim-
plain of want of success, when the truth is, they aim
too high—seck a flieht beyond their abilities to sustain.
Even Sir John Soane aimed too high—endeavoured to
set himself up as an architect of the highest order, and
became querulous when his claims were disputed. The
best maxim for the artist is—Aim as high as you can,
but if you fall short, still be satisfied with your measure
of success, and endeavour to enjoy if.
To a certain extent, the house and museum belong
to the public—they were left for their use by an enthu-
siast in his profession. This monument was erected of
and for himself by the son of a humble bricklayer—let
men judoe of his architectural character as they please
—it was an energetic, industrious, and singular mind
which ereated it.
The act obtained by Sir John Soane for ‘ settling
and preservine’”’ his ** Museum, Library, and Works
of Art,” was passed on the 20th of April, 1833. It
sets forth that “ Sir John Soane of Chelsea, in the
county of Middlesex, knight, hath for many years past
been at great labour and expense in collecting and
establishing a mosenm, comprising, among other valu-
able effects, the Belzoni Sarcophagus, a library of books
and manuscripts, prmts, drawings, models, and various
works of art, all of which are deposited and arranged
in a house and offices in the occupation of the said Sir
John Soane,’’ &c.° The act then vests the collection in
the hands of trustees. Sir John also left 30,000/., 3 per
cent. Consols—the interest of which, ‘alone with the:
rent of an adjoining house, is to be applied to the main-
tenance of thc house and museum.
The act declares, that ‘‘ free access shall be given at
least on two days in every week throughout the months
of April, May, and June, and at such other times in
the same or in any other months as the said trustees
shall direct, to amateurs and students in painting, sculp-
ture, and architecture, and to such other persons as
shall apply for and obtain admission thereto, at such
hours and in such’ manner, and under such regulations
for consulting, inspecting, and benefiting by ‘the said
collection, as the said Sir Jolin Soane shall have esta-
blished previous to his decease, or as the said trustees
shall establish relating thereto.”
It ‘will be seen by the above extract, that the act very
properly leaves a discretionary power as to the admit-
tance of visiters. “But it will be a’ matter of reeret if
circumstances should render it necessary to exercise the
restricting powcr to any great extent. A mere walk
over.the house and museum will be of very little use to
the visiter. If he wishcs to enjoy the pictures, he must
have time to look at them; if he wishes to study and
criticise the arrangements of the domestic portion of
the house, it must be done at leisure; if he even wishes
to amuse himself by considering the’ curious effects
produced by the various imitations of different styles of
architecture, the sepulchral chamber, the crypt, the
monastery, or the monk’s parlour, he cannot accomplish
it by a glance. And to what extent, too, will it be con-
sidered proper to open the library to the artist and
architectural student? These considerations affect the
utility of the collection; and if only a limited few are
permitted to have a practical use of the house and
museum, Sir John Soane’s intentions will be rendered
inoperative. ‘lhe trustees are anxious to fulfil their
trust, and to open the collection as far as possible to
the public; the difficulty seems to be, how to make
proper arrangements, consistently with the preservation
and security of the property.
*,* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at _
59, Lincoln's Inn Fields.
LONDON:—CHARLES KNIGHT & CO., 22, LUDGATE STREET, -
Printed by WILLIAM Crowes and Sons, Stawnford Street.
THE PENNY MAGAZINE
society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge.
JjO4. | PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. [Decemper 2, 1837
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[Fishing Boat off St. Alban’s Head, Dorsetshire. |
Sy. ALDHELM’s, commonly called St. Alban’s Head, 1s
well-known landmark on the Dorsetshire coast. It
does not stretch out so far into the sea as the opposite
promontory of Portland Bill; but a line drawn from
oue point to the other, and which would be above twenty
miles in extent, would comprise a large expanse of ocean,
in which are to be found good Peg for shipping, att
harbours, and secnre coves for smaller vessels. ‘The
cliff, which presents its rugged form sea-ward, rises.
Rost perpendicularly to a ‘height of 441 feet. On
this promontory a chapel was dedicated to St. Aldhelm,
the first bishop of Sherborne. It was vaulted, with
stone, aud sustained by a single massive pillar. The
only means for the a'Imissiou of hight was by the ‘deor.
It was an oratory, rather than a chapel, in which, ac-
cording to Hutchins, the historian of Dorsetshire, masses
were said, and prayers uttered for the passing mariner,
who left some recognition of his eratitude at the next
port at which he touched, to be applied to the main-
tenance of the priest. In the beeinning of the present
century the building was nearly in ruins.
The coast between St. Alban’s Head and Portland
Bill is a scene of considerable activity in the fish-
ing-season, though not in so great a degree as that
further to the west, where the pilchard abounds, or as| as one of the characteristics
Vou VI,
that to the eastward, which is nearer to the London
markets. ‘There is no grand harvest for the fisherman,
as on those parts of the coast to which the herring and
pilchard resort 5 but his pursuits are more uniform, ancl
perhaps not the less profitable. Amongst other. de-
scriptions of fish, the mullet is taken to a considerable
extent. There are several varieties of this fish, which
was held in greater esteem in ancient than it is in
modern times ; when it was a common proverb that he
who took a mullet never ate it, the high price which
it bore being an inducement to hurry with it to the
best market, “where it fetched, it is said, as much as its
weight in silver; and there even arose contentious
among epicures as to which shonld become the bit
chaser. It is stated by Martial that the cost of
mullet, of the weight of about four pounds anda half,
was still hieher ; and the: price rose at each successive
increase of Weight. A sum equivalent to 240/. was once
oiven for three’ “of more than ordinary size, which bap-
pened to be in the market just before a banquet of
unusual magnificence. They were often broneht te
table alive in e@lass vases, and a barbarous pleasure
was derived from witnessing the changes of colour
which they underwent in expiring. This 1 may be taken
of the most polished
30
466
class among a people which stood -the foremost in
ancient civilization. Apicius invented a mode of snffo-
cating the mullet in a kind of pickle; and Seneca en-
deavoured to put an end to these practices. The roe
of the mullet is used in Italy for the purpose of making
a preparation which stimulates the appetite. The part
is taken out whole, and covered with salt for about five
hours, and is then pressed, but not strongly, between
two boards; it is subsequently washed, and afterwards
exposed to the sun, when it soon becomes fit for use.
It is eaten with oil and lemon juice.
The red mullet is taken along the whole leneth of
our southern shores. On other parts of the coast it is
comparatively seldom to be met with. It rarely exceeds
fourteen inches in length. Mr. Yarrell mentions a spe-
cimen which weighed ‘3 lbs. 60z. and was in great per-
fection. When the colours are finest the fish is then in
the best condition; and they are also most abundant at
that time, usually the months of May and June. The
brilancy of their appearance is owing to extravasated
blood under the cnticle, which is transparent. In places
where the scales have not been forcibly removed, the
colour is a pale pink, which may be regarded as the
natural colour of the fish.
spawning, and towards October the young are above
the length of a man’s finger. They are caught by the
mackerel-nets, and in larger quantities by the trawl]-net.
They feed near the bottom, aud are provided, as in the
case of many other fish of similar habits, with an
appendage articulated to the mouth, and which Mr.
Yarrell found on investigation to consist of ‘* numerous
longitudinal muscular and nervous fibres.”. Mr. Yarrell
adds :-—“S These appendages are to them, I have no
doubt, delicate organs of touch, by which all the species
provided with them are enabled to ascertain, to a cer-
tain extent, the qualities of the various substances with
which they are brought in contact, and are analogous
in function to the beak, with its distribution of nerves,
among certain wading and swimmine birds which probe
for food beyond their sight; and may be considered
another instance, among the many beautiful provisions
of nature, by which, in the case of fishes feeding at ereat
depths, where light is deficient, compensation is made
for consequent imperfect vision.”
The grey mullet is found generally on the western
shores of Europe. This fish, of which there are several
varieties, does not proceed far from land; it is fond of°
shallow water, and also the mouths of rivers, which it
frequently enters. This is a striking peculiarity in its
habits. In France, the mullet is taken in the Garonne,
the Seine, and the Loire, and it has been found in the
latter river af a distance of forty leagues from the sea.
It is stated, in the great French ‘ Encyclopédie,’ that
the mullet spawns in the Loire like the salmon. The
mullet is well known in the river Arun, in Sussex,
and was found twenty miles from the sea in 1834,
which Mr. Yarrell states was higher than it had usually
ascended,—a circumstance to be attributed to the heat
of the summer. When in fresh water, the mullet is
sometimes taken by anglers just before it returns to the
salt-water with the ebb-tide. It is, however, extremely
cautious in taking a bait. Fuller, in his account of
Sussex worthies, mentions, among other things for
which that county is celebrated, the six following :—a
Chichester lobster, a Selsey cockle, an Arundel mullet,
a Pulborough eel, an Amberley trout, and a Rye her-
ring. The “mullet is described as possessing more in-
tellixence than fish generally. Not only is it difficult
to take them with a line, but they even make their
escape when enclosed in a net by throwing themselves
over its outer circle. If one succeed, all the rest follow,
like a flock of sheep, and the fishermen lose the fruits
of their exertion. Mr. Crouch, who has contributed
some valuable remarks to Mr. Yarrell’s work on ‘ British
THE PENNY MAGAZINE,
Spring is the season of
[DeEcEMBER 2,
Fishes,’ describes the susceptibility of constraint and
danger in the mullet, from observations made at a
salt-water mill-pool of about twenty acres in extent,
into which the mullet entered by the floodg@ate. On the
cates being closed, owing to the turn of the tide, ‘the
wall is examined in every part; and when the water is
near the summit, efforts are made to throw themselves
over, by which they are not uncommonly left on the
bank to their own destruction.” Oppian, who lived in
the beginning of the third century, described the habits
of the mullet in the following terms :—
‘The mullet, when encircling seines enclose,
The fatal threads and treach’rous bosoms knows.
Instant he rallies all his vig’rous powers,
And faithful aid of every nerve implores;
O’er battlements of cork up-darting flies,
And finds from air the escape that sea denies.
But should the first attempt Ins hopes deceive,
And fatal space the imprison‘d fall receive,
Exhausted strength no second leap supplies ;
Self-doom’d to death the prostrate victim hes ;
Resign’d with painful expectation waits,
Till thinner elements complete his fates.”
The habit alluded to in the last lines was doubted
by Mr. Pennant; but the accuracy of Oppian is con-
firmed by Mr. Cronch, who says, ‘‘ When, after being
surroundered by a net, two or three have made their
escape, ald the margin of the net has been secured
and elevated above the surface, to render certain the
capture of the only remaining one, I have seen the
anxions prisoner pass from end to end, examine every
mesh and all the folds that lay on the ground, and at
last, concluding that to pass through a mesh, or rend
it, afforded the only though despétate chance of escape,
it has retired to the greatest possible distance, which
has not been done before, and rushed at once to that
part which was most tightly stretched. It was held,
however, by the middle; and, conscious that all further
effort must be nnavailing, it yielded without a further
struggle to its fate.” A yonng mullet of less than an
inch in length will throw itself over the edge of a cup,
in which the water is an inch below the brn.
FIRES OCCASIONED BY THE BURNING OF
THE “ CHOPPINGS,” OR “ CHOPPED FAL-
LOWS,” IN THE AMERICAN FORESTS.
(From a Correspondent. ]
Some of the most splendid sights that I ever witnessed
were the burnings of what the American woodmen
éall> choppings,” or “new fallows.’”’ Of course the
erandeur and sublimity depend, in a great measure,
upon the situation, nature, and extent of these chop-
pings; but in every instance it-is a magnificent and
imposing spectacle. I have been present at some scores
of exhibitions of this nature, and have beheld confla-
erations of fallows of all dimensions, from one acre to
something exceeding a couple of ‘hundreds. But the
magnificence of the scene by no means increases in the
ratio of the number of acres, for I have seen a more
splendid fire upon a piéce of ground of ten acres than
what I have witnessed at ariother time where the chop-
ping was of five times that extent; but this, however
mainly depends upon the character of the timber, and
the degree of dryness or combustibleness at the time
the “ burning” takes place.
It will not be out of place to remark that in the
forests of America there is, almost universally, a con-
siderable covering of leaves in various degrees of decay,
besides vast quantities of dead fibres and rotten branches,
even while the trees are alive and standing. Moreover,
it frequently, happens that there is a portion of under-
wood (“ under-brush,’ as the Americans term it), pre-
vious to the cutting down of the timber. When a part
of the forest is doomed to destruction, in the first in-
stance this under-wood is all cut down, including every
1837.]
sapling or young tree which does not exceed six inches
in diameter. After this operation has been performed,
the axes are applied.to the full-grown trees; so that in
due time not a stick is left standing, with the exception
of such remnants of old decayed trees as, in the opinion
of the axe-men, will become totally consumed in conse-
quence of the general conflagration, for they will con-
tinue to burn for some days, and thus the labour of
cutting them down is avoided.
When a good-sized tree has been prostrated, the next
thing to be done is the lopping-off of every limb and
branch that belongs to it; which falling closer to the
surface of the ground, a more dense and compact mass
of combustibles is consequently formed for the fire to
act upou. Hach tree also is cut into several pieces of
ten or fifteen feet in length, varying according to the
thickness or diameter, by which means a great quantity
of chips or cuttings is mixed with the dead leaves and
branches. , Sometimes the woods are cut down when in
full foliage, which tends to make the fallow somewhat
more inflammable; but this is not generally tlre case,
neither does it make a material difference, for should
the leaves have fallen from the trees they will be found
dry and crisp upen the earth’s surface.
These conflagrations—‘“ burnings” as they are signi-
ficantly called—nusually take place during the driest
part of summer, although it is by no means nncommon
to find the inhabitants of the new settlements burning
their fallows in the spring of the year. ‘There is, how-
ever, more danger to be apprehended from burning
them at this season; for should the weather, and con-
sequently the woods, be peculiarly dry,-when once the
fire has communicated with the covering of crisp leaves,
it is found all but impossible to extinguish it, or to
obstruct ifs progress ; so that, without the exercise of a
great degree of caution, much damage is frequently
done to large ranges of the forest, as well as to the
improved lands. As timber is absolutely valueless in
many situations in the woods, it may seem somewhat
paradoxical to assert that it can be damaged, or
made worse, and may, therefore, require a short ex-
planation. Should the dead leaves be very dry and
abundaut, when the fire gets into the woods the
general conflagration, as it creeps insidiously along,
will be of sufficient power to give the growing timber
such a scorchiue as to destroy the principle of vitality
in the chief part of it, and, in some cases, the entire
forest. The timber which has been killed in this
manner becomes so hard in a very few years, that a
chopper would rather cut down two living trees than
one of these dead ones; so that in this way damage has
been done to the forests by the trees being killed by
the fire. The meadows and pastures, too, are in danger
from the spring burnings, since the vegetation which
covers the tields when winter sets in, becomes, by the
early part of spring, as dead and dry and combustible
as any stubble; so that, when once the fire gets into
the enclosures, the fences, which are mostly composed
of wooden rails, are sure of being destroyed unless: they
are precipitately removed, or a great deal ‘of pains
otherwise taken to prevent their destruction; and it is
no uncommon occurrence for the farm buildings to
share a similar fate.
When a settler is about to burn his fallow, it is his
duty to give warning of the circumstance to all his
neighbours, in order that they may attend on the occa-
sion and assist (if they feel disposed to do so) in keeping
the fire under proper subjection, or rather within pre-
scribed limits. Should the season be summer, there
is no danger of the fire extending to the meadows
and pastures, the verdure preventing that; but much
caution is necessary in order to prevent its ‘ running”
in the woods, and communicating with the adjoining
euces. Therefore, before the time arrives for setting
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
‘deafening, and truly terrific!
467
fire to the fallow, a number of persons undertake the
raking away of the leaves and dry twigs to the breadth
of two or three feet in a continuous path around the
whole of it. ‘This operation is performed with hoes,
and so deep and effectually that it has the appearance
of a shallow ditch. It is necessary that it should be
situated at the distance of several rods froin the ex-
treme verge of the chopping, because pieces of burning
timber are often thrown to a considerable distance by
the fury of the conflagration. Besides, the persons
placed in the woods, and armed with the branches of
some fiull-leaved tree, wherewith ‘“‘to fight the fire,”
would not be able to approach closer when the burning
is at itsheight. ‘lhe hotter the day is so much the better
for the fallow-burner, because the tire rages with greater
fury when the sun shines hot; and on his getting a
good or bad burn the chance of a future crop of grain
mainly depends. Moreover, should the burn be a eood
one, it saves the party engaged in clearing the land a
oreat deal of labour; for in this case all the smaller
branches, with the dead and dry timber, will be totally
consumed, and not have to be picked up when: the
larger and sounder timber is afterwards burned off’ It
is customary to set fire to the fallow on all sides, but I
am not sure that this is the best pian; for were it
applied only at one corner, and that corner in an
opposite direction to the current of wind, | know very
well, from frequent observation, that the conflagration
would progress rapidly to windward, there being such
a profusion of fuel to entice, excite, and feed the flame.
If there should be but a gentle breeze at the time of the
burning (which commouly is the case), after once the
fire vets to raging, there is apparertly in its vicinity a
perfectly dead calm. While the ocean of flame rages
furiously over a chopping of thirty or forty acres, the
rush and the roar of the flame are tremendous—almost
When you are as close
to the fire as the heat will admit of your staudine, you
behold little more than a vast convolving pyramid of
dense vapour and smoke. At its base it is pitchy
black ; in the second region the rolling’ masses assume
a semi-opaque appearance ; and higher sull the summit
of the column is rolled away horizontally in the form of
fleecy summer clouds. ‘There is no danger of the dense
smoke being driven in upon you, no matter on which
‘side of the burning mass you may have stationed your-
self; for the rushing in of the atmospheric air from all
sides is such, that the volume of vapour is forced up
almost perpendicularly. |
To witness a burning of this description from a
moderate elevation, at the distance of a few hundred
paces, is by far the most interesting sight; for from
such a situation you will occasionally have an oppor-
tunity of observing the vast height to which the ser-
pent-tongued flame darts upward in tts fury. The
surrounding forest-trees are generally 100 feet hich,
and in some cases considerably more; yet it is no un-
usual thing to see occasional bursts of flame flickering
above the tops of the tallest of them. At a moderate
distance the roar is not so deafening, yet the general
moving and progressing of the fire is distinctly visible.
These burnings take place about the hour of the day
that the sun is on the meridian, so that the shadow or
the pillar of smoke is on the north side of the fire; and
within the verge of that shadow there is almost a total
darkness. Such is the magnificent picture presented
by the burning of a large fallow in the forests of Ame-
rica! On a still summer day I have distinctly heard
the roar of one of these conflagrations at the distance
of four or five miles.
Nothing escapes the fury of one of these burnings,
Foxes and various other wild animals often have their
haunts in the new fallows, since they afford an impree-
nable cover; and here, also, some of the feathered
30 2
AGB THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
tribes rear their young.
within the limits when the circle of flame is kindled,
vain will be every. attempt to pass the dreadful barrier.
The efforts of those who assemble at these burnings
are not at all times, in spite of their best endeavonrs,
successful in preventing the spreading of the fiery de-
Inee; and, should the season be extremely dry, when the
fire has once got into the woods and clearings, there is
no calculating the damage which the district may sus-
tain, or the extent of country it may overrun; for, al-
though the population of all the surrounding settlements
should mnster to “‘ fight the fire,’ they cannot conquer
the all-powerful element,—thoueh they may be able to
preserve many of the buildings and fences which other-
wise would have been destroyed. Until there is a
change of weather,—that is, until there occurs a copious
fall of rain,—the fire continues to sweep over the ad-
joining country. On some occasions whole settlements
are destroyed, the inhabitants scarcely having time to
carry off their few household goods, so rapidly does the
destroyer sweep down npon them. All the “‘improve-
ments” which several years of privation and toil have
enabled the settlers to collect around them, are, in a few
short hours, utterly and totally laid waste! Nor are its
ravages invariably confined to the destruction of pro-
perty ; for, owing to negligence, or to too much fool-
hardiness, lives are sometimes sacrificed in these general
burnings. About twelve years ago, a fire of this des-
cription overran a Jaree section of country in the interior
of one of our North American colonies (New Brunswick),
when it raged uncontrolled during several week,—lay-
ing waste the farms and habitations of many hundreds
of the inhabitants; and, what rendered the matter
still more melancholy and appalling, a considerable
number of human beings lost their lives during the
conflagration.
¢
ON THE STRUCTURE OF THE TEETH.
(From the ‘ Philosophy of Health, by Dr. Southwood Smith.)
Eacu jaw is provided with sixteen teeth (fig. cLV.),
arranged with perfect uniformity, eight on each side of
each jaw (fig. civ.); those of the one side exactly
corresponding with those of the other (fig. c1v.). ‘The
teeth, from the differences they present in their size,
form, mode of connection with the jaw, and mse, are
divided into four classes, namely, on each side of each
jaw, two incisors (figs. cLvI. and cLvu. I, 2); one cus-
pid (figs. cLvI. and civir. 3); two bicuspid (figs. CLVI.
aud cuvit, 4, 5); and three molar (figs. CLVI. and CLVII.
6,7, Sie
Fig. CLV.
\ a } hi,
Lh
: ' GN
a7
it ‘ a
Hy
fA lateral view of the whole series of the teeth, im situ, showing the relative
situation of those of the upper with those of the lower jaw. This fignre and
the following tigures to 159 are eopied from Mr. T. Bell's scientific and
instructive work on the Anatomy, Physiology, and Diseases of the Teeth.)
The incisor, or cutting teeth, are situated in the front
of the jaw; that directly in the centre is called the cen-
tial; and the next to it the lateral incisor (fig. cLV.).
greene rere rare Se Se
[Decemrnr 9,
And shonld they be found | Their office, as their name imports, is to cut the food,
which they do, on the principle of shears or scissors.
Standing next to the lateral incisor is the cuspid,
canine, or eye-tooth (figs. cLv., cLv1., and exivir.). It
is the longest of all the teeth. Its office is to tear such
parts of the food as are too hard to be readily divided
by the incisors.
Next the cuspid are the bicuspid, two on each side
(figs. CLV., CLVII.),so named from their being provided
Fig. CLVI,
te
\
anny, ~ é yotteny, Thy .
a it LTA NN \\\,
% | yr" vy 4
i 4 3
1
[Front or external view of the npper teeth. 1. The central incisor. 2. The
Jateral incisor. 3. The cuspid. 4. The first bicuspid. 5. The second
bicuspid, 6. The first molar. 7. The second molar. 8, The third molar,
or dens sapientiz.]
with two distinct prominences or points. Their office
is to tear tough substances preparatory to their tritura-
tion by the next set.
The molares, or the grinders, three on each side (figs.
CLVI. and cLvi.), provided with four or five promi-
nences on the grinding surface, with corresponding
depressions, which are so arranged that the elevations
of those of the upper are adapted to the concavities of
those of the lower jaw, and the contrary.
From the incisor to the molar teeth there is a regular
Fig. CLVII.
‘
HY)
Hi
sig
‘ Wi
lib
5 ae
[Front view of the lower teeth. 1. The ecntral incisor, 2. The lateral in-
eisor. 3. The cuspid. 4. The first biscuspid. 5. The second bicuspid.
6. The first molar. 7. The second molar. 8. The third molar, or deus
sapientia. |
eradation in size, form, and use, the cuspid holding a
middle place between the incisor and the bicuspid, and
the bicuspid being in every respeet intermediate between
the cuspid and the molar. ‘Thus the incisor are adapted
only for cutting, the cuspid for tearing, the bicuspid
partly for tearing and partly for grinding, and the
molar solely for grinding. ‘The incisor has only a
single root, which is uearly round, and quite simple
(fie. CLVII. 1, 2); the cuspid has only a single root,
bese THE PENNY .MAGAZINE. AGO
but this is flattened and partially grooved (fig. cuvu. | possibility of repairing or of replacing it. The instru-
3); even the bicuspid has only a single root, but this | ment in question, then, must possess hardness, dura~
is commonly divided at its extremity, and is always | bility, and, to a certain extent, insensibility; yet it
so much grooved as to have the appearance of two | must be capable of forming an intimate union with
fangs partially united, the body having two points in- | sentient and vital organs, must be capable of becoming
stead of one, thus approaching it to the form of the | a constituent part of the living system.
molar (fig. civit. 4, 5); and these last have always To communicate to it the requisite degree of hard-
two, sometimes three, occasionally four roots, and their | ness, the hard substance forming its basis is rendered
body is greatly increased in size, and has a complete | so much harder than common bone, that some physio-
erinding surface (fig. cLvit. 6, 7, 8). logists have even doubted whether it be bone, whether
In some animals, whose food and habits require the | it really possess a true organic structnre. That there is
utmost extension of the office of a particular class of | no ground for such donbt the evidence is complete. For,
teeth, a corresponding development of that class takes 1. The tooth, like bone in general, is composed partly
place. ‘hus in the carnivora, as is strikingly seen in j of an earthy and partly of an animal substance; the
the tiger and the polar bear, the cuspid or canine teeth | earthy part being completely removable by maceration
are prodigiously elongated and strengthened, in order | in an acid, and the animal portion by incineration, the
to enable them to seize their food, and to tear it in | tooth under each process retaining exactly its original
pieces. On the other hand, in the rodentia, or gnawing ! form.
e e ® e e 5 e
animals, as in the beaver, the incisors are exceedinely 2. The root of the tooth is covered externally by
periosteum ; its internal cavity is lined by a vascular
elongated; while in the graminivora, and especially in
and nervous membrane, and both structures are inti-
the rnminantia, the molar teeth are by far the most de-
mately connected with the substance of the tooth. If
veloped. In each case the other kinds of teeth are of
little comparative importance ; sometimes they are even ; these membranes really distribute their blood-vessels
altogether wanting. ‘Thus the shark has only one kind | and nerves to the substance of the tooth, which there
of tooth, the incisor; but of these there are several rows, | is no reason to doubt, the analogy is identical between
aud all of them the creature has the power of erecting | the structure of the teeth and that of bone.
at will, 3. Though the blood-vessels of the teeth are so
So intimately are these organs connected with the ‘ minute that they do not, under ordinary circumstances,
kind of food by which life is sustained, and the kind of {| admit the red particles of the blood, and though no
food with the general habits of the animal, that an! colouring matter hitherto employed in artificial injec-
anatomist can tell the structure of the digestive organs, | tions has been able, on account of its grossness, to
the kind of nervous system, the physical and even the | penetrate the dental vessels, yet disease sometimes ac-
mental endowments; that is, the exact point in the | complishes what art is incapable of effecting. In
scale of organization to which the animal belongs, | jaundice the bony substance of the teeth 1s occasionally
imerely by the inspection of the teeth. tinged with a bright yellow colour; and in persons whio
In man, the several classes of the teeth are so simi-; have perished by a violent death, in whom the circu-
larly developed, so perfectly equalized, and so identically ; lution has been suddenly arrested, it is of a deep red
constructed, that they may be considered as the true | colour. Moreover, when the dentist files a tooth, no
type from which all the other forms are deviations. pain is produced until the file reaches the bony sub-
For the accomplishment of their office the teeth must | stance ; but the instant it begins to act upon this part
he endowed with prodigious strength: for the fulfil- | of the tooth, the sensation becomes sufficiently acute.
ment of purposes immediately connected with the ap- These facts demonstrate that the bony matter of the
paratus of digestion, it is necessary that they should be | tooth, though modified to fit the instrument for Its
placed in the neighbourhood of exceedingly soft, deli- ; office, is still a true and proper organized substance.
cate, irritable, and sentient organs. ‘That they may} ~ Each tooth is divided into body, neck, and root
possess the requisite degree of strength, they are con- | (fig. civint. 1, 2, 3). The body is that part of the
structed chiefly of bone, the hardest organized sub-
stance. Bone, though not as sensible as some other
parts of the body, is nevertheless sentient. The em-
ployment of a sensitive body in the office of breaking
down the hard substances nsed as food would be to
change the act of eating from a pleasurable into a
painful operation. It has been shown (vol. 1. p. 84)
that provision is made for supplying to the animal a
never-failing source of enjoyment in the annexation of
pleasurable sensations with the act of eating, and that,
taking the whole of life into account, the sum of enjoy-
ment secured by this provision is incalcnlable. But all
this enjoyment might have been lost, might even have
been changed into positive pain, nay, must have been
changed into pain, but for adjustments numerous, mi-
ute, delicate, and at first view incompatible.
Had a highly-organized and sensitive body been
made the instrument of cutting, tearing, and breaking
down the food, every tooth, every time it comes in con-
tuct with the food, would prodnce the exquisite pain
now occasionally experienced when a tooth is inflamed.
Yet a body wholly inorganic, and therefore insensible,
could not perform the office of the instrument ; first,
because a dead body cannot be placed in contact with
living parts without producing irritation, disease, and
consequently pain; and, secondly, because such a body
being incapable of any process of nutrition, must spee-
dily be worn away by friction, and there could be no
PR Se
0 a
Se
Fig. CLVIII.
(Views of different kinds of teeth, showing their anatomical division into,
1. The body or crown, 2. The fang cr root. 3. The neck. |
tooth which is above the gum, the root that part which
is below the gum, and the neck that part where the
body and the root unite (fig. cuviit). he body, the
essential part, is the tooth properly so called, the part
which performs the whole work for which the instru-
ment is constructed, to the production and support of
which all the other parts are subservient.
When a vertical section is made in the tooth, it is
found to contain a cavity of considerable size (fig.
cLix. 3), termed the dental cavity, which, large in the
body of the tooth, gradually diminishes through the
whole length of the root (fig. crix. 3). The dental
cavity is lined throughout with a thin, delicate, and
vascular membrane, continued from that which lines
re ge rn ec eR RS RR TE PEER ITED EFORCE cee Se RR A
470 THE PENNY MAGAZINE. | DeceMBER 2,
the jaw. It contains a pulpy substance. ‘This pulp, F ore ug {4 enyreier with ihe Male at Has giony oy tee
‘at ble: j almon.—A very singular and inexplicable instinct has
Inghly vasculet sac Sekc Sets 2 been ascribed to the salmon, but which has been doubted
Fig. CLIX.—Sections of Teeth, exhibiting their Structure. and disputed by many, even of those who have turned their
attention to the subject. The fact to which we allude is,
the propensity of salmon to return to the identical rivers
wherein they were spawned. This has now been established
beyond the possibility of doubt. In the report of our tewns-
man, Mr. Robert Buist, superintendent of the river Tay,
under the act for the protection of the breed .of salmon,
given in to the meeting of heritors in October last, he noticed
a curious experiment which had been made last breeding
season in certain small fishing rivers in Sutherlandshire,
These streams disembogue into Loch Shin, and no salmon
were ever known to have existed in their waters before; but
as they seemed to be well adapted for breeding this species
of fish, the Duke of Sutherland, the proprietor of these
rivers, resolved to have them planted with salmon. Ac-
' cordingly, several pairs were carried from other rivers to
almost entirely of blood-vessels and nerves, and is the | which they were indigenous, and placed in these during the -
source whence the bony part of the tooth derives its | breeding-season, and there they deposited their spawn. The
vitality, sensibility, and nutriment. The blood-vessels { result was awaited with considerable interest, as calculated
and nerves that compose the pulp enter the dental | 0 set at rest the disputed question. It appears by a letter
cavity through a minute hole at the extremity of the i ll ae ee - oe -~ ‘> eos there,
t (fig. curx. 4). The membrane which lines the that the experiment has beeu titles. - he subject is no
» a ee : “~ | doubt of great interest to those concerned with the fisheries,
dental cavity is likewise continued oyerthe.external suxs |) anduthese who aie Gulla ie department of natural
face of the root, so as to afford it a complete envelope. history. The letter states—‘ Our last year’s planting of
[To be concluded in our next.] salmon has returned to the same rivers thisyear. In the
) commencement of close-time we carried salmon to one of
. the rivers where we put them last year, and left two of these
National Benefactors.—The names of those who have | rivers without putting any into them, to ascertain whether
enriched our gardens with useful and valuable plants are | the salmon in reality did or did not return to the rivers
deserving of record and remembrance. Sir W. Raleigh | where they were spawned; and, at the usual time of spawn-
introduced the potato; Sir Anthony Ashley first -planted | ing, we found a few pairs in each of these rivers, where
cabbages in this country—a cabbage appears at his feet | never a salmon was seen before the fish were put into them
on his monument; Sir Richard Weston brought over | last year, so that we can have no doubt of every river having
clover-grass from Flanders in 1645; figs were planted in | its own breed of salmon, and that they will return to their
Henry VIII.’s reign, at Lambeth, by Cardinal Pope—it is | own rivers, unless interrupted on their passage, or en-
said the identical trees are still remaining. Spilman, who | couraged into other rivers by an unusual quantity of water.
erected the first paper-mill at Dartford, in 1590, brought {| I would never believe in this doctrine until I had the ex-
over the two first lime-trees, which he planted, and are still | perience of it from the different sizes we have in the many
growing. Thomas Lord Cromwell enriched the gardens of rivers in the north. I have studied all this with great care,
England with three different kinds of plums. It was Evelyn, | and I may say now, I am a complete disciple to these habits
whose patriotism was not exceeded by his learning, who | of the salmon.’—Perth Constitutional. [In the account of
largely propagated the noble oak in this country; so much | the natural history of the salmon, in the ‘ Penny Magazine,’
so. that the trees he planted have supplied the navy of | No. 324, the habit referred to above was not noticed, as it
Great Britain with its chief proportion of that timber. had not been satisfactorily proved, though often believed to
exist. The experiment in Loch Shin establishes beyond
doubt what may be considered as a striking example of local
attachment. The means by which the above results were
obtained are detailed in a communication by James Loch,
Esq., M.P., to ‘ Loudon’s Magazine of Natural History,’
for April, 1837.]
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[1. The bony substance. 2. The enamel. 3. The internal cavity. 4. The
foramen, or hole at the extremity of the root.] '
SS Sa ee
Charcoal as a Material for Draining.— Brushwood,
broom, gorse, heath, and thinnings of young plantations,
after they have been charred, may be employed in filling
drains, being lighter, more porous, and hardly susceptible
of decay. All known facts and analogies are strongly in
favour of this suggestion. The charring may be performed
in the usual way by the side of the drains, the brushwood,
sc., being made up into faggots of a suitable size previous ; MUMMING.
. charring ; a 1 faggot, necessary, may be secured THis was an ancient Christmas pastime, consisting ofa
y a single band of iron-wire near each end to prevent it | species of masquerading: the name is derived from the
from falling to pieces; in removing from the hearth to the iene |
drain, a light cradle of wicker-work, of the length of a Danish word mumme, and the practice is supposed to
faggot, would probably be found the most convenient ma- have arisen from the sigillaria, or festival days added to
chine for its conveyance. It is, however, not at all unlikely the ancient Saturnalia. Stowe gives us an account of
that there would be no real necessity to preserve the faggots | 2 mumming made by the citizens of London for Prince
entire; for it 1s evident that a heap of sprays of charcoal, | Richard, son of the Black Prince, in 1377 :—‘* On the
broken into pieces two or three inches long, and without | Sunday before Candlemas, a 130 citizens disguised and
any regularity in their arrangement, would form a more | well-horsed, rode to Kennington, near Lambeth (where
porous material than an equal bulk of stones. A drain so the Prince was with his mother), with trumpets, sac-
filled would never be choked, exeept by particles of earth buts...shal neni deesh adie Heme fib ir ;
carried in by the water that fiowed through it; for, as the | °°" 2°02. %s SG ON ee
material would always remain, the superincumbent earth | ©S44!res, two and tev ores red coats and gowns of
would not fall down, as it now usually does, to choke the | Sandal+; forty-eight as knights, one as an emperor,
passage when the bushes which supported it have decayed. | another as pope; twenty-four as cardinals, and eight
Neither is it likely that moles would willingly cross a drain | or ten with black visors as legates of foreign princes:
filled with charcoal; and if so, another very usual cause of | they entered the hall and played at dice with the Prince,
the destruction of drains would be avoided. In many dis- who they took care should win, and after that they
triets where peat is abundant, this substance, when charred, danced and feasted.” In the second vear of Kine
vould probably be found a most valuable material, both for W is eo; hes Blan i - SS eciaginon:’
filling drains and for building hollow ones. The brick-like +4: me ign: Ye) ee ag age a.
form into which peat is usually cut, and the hardness and Eltham, twelve aldermen of London, and: their sons,
porosity of the same when charred in a close oven, would | "ode a mumming, and had great thanks; but it seems
consutute a hght and excellent material, much cheaper, and that a later mumming, in the same reign, in the royal
Probably better than either bricks or tiles, -® Species of Hautboys +A dof silk.
1837,]
palace, was intended as a mode of assassinating the
king. Mumming, however, was not confined to royal
palaces, and was sometimes productive of mischief;
for, by an Act of Parliament in the third year of
Henry VIII, it was enacted that mummers shall be
imprisoned three months, and fined at the justices’ dis-
cretion; and persons selling or keeping visors shall
forfeit 20s. for every visor, and be imprisoned at the
discretion of the justices. ‘The masques also appear to
resemble the mummings, as Sir Walter Scott, in his
notes to the 6th Canto of ‘ Marmion,’ gives the cha-
racters of a masque, which include those of Christmas
and Mince Pye, these being characters in mumming: of
the present day; and he also observes that the mum-
mers of England and the guisards of Scotland present
a shadow of the old mysteries which were the origin of
the English drama. ‘The practice of mumming is still
continued at Christmas in many parts of England,
when the characters, attired in grotesque dresses, enter
the houses in the evening, suddenly throwing open the
door, and one after the other enacting the different parts
allutted to them as follows :—
[ Enter old Father Christmas, with a long beard.]
Oh! here come I, old Father Christmas ; welcome or welcome not,
I hope old Father Christmas will never be forgot.
Make room, room, I say,
That I may lead Mince Pye this way.
Walk in, Mince Pye, and act thy part,
And shew the gentles thy valiant heart. .
[ Enter Mince Pye, with a wooden sword. |
Room, room, you gallant souls, give me room to rhyme,
I will show you some festivity this Christmas time.
Bring me the man that bids me stand,
Who says he'll cut me down with audacious hand ;
I will cut him and hew him as small as a fly,
And send him to Satan to make Mince Pye.
Walk in, St. George.
Oh! in come I St. George, the man of courage bold,
With my sword and buckler I have won three crowns of gold;
I fought the fiery Dragon, and brought him to the slaughter,
I won a beauteous Queen and a King of Britain’s daughter.
If thy mind is high, my mind 1s bold;
If thy blood is hot, I will make it cold. (They fight.)
(Mince Pye ts vanquished and falls.)
Mince Pyr.—Oh! St. George, spare my life.
Curisrmas.—Is no Doctor to be found,
To cure this man who is bleeding ou the ground ?
[ Enter the Doctor. |
Oh! yes, there is a Doctor to be found
To cure Mince Pye who is bleeding on the ground.
I cure the sick of every pain,
And raise the dead to life again.
Curisrmas.—Doctor, what 1s thy fee ?
Docror.—Ten pounds is my fee ;
But fifteen I must take of thee,
Before I set this Gallant free.
Curistmas.— Work thy will, Doctor.
Docror.—I have a little bottle by my side,
The fame of which spreads far and wide ;
Drop a drop on this poor man’s nose.
(Up jumps Mince Pye.)
| Enter Little Jack, a Dwarf, with dolls at his back. |
F |
Oh! in come I, little saucy Jack,
With all my family at my back ;
Christmas comes but once a year,
_ And when it does it brings good cheer.
Roast beef, plum pudding, and Mince Pye,
Who likes that any better than 1?
Christmas ale makes us dance and sing ;
Money in purse is a very fine thing.
Ladies and Gentlemen, give us what you please.
SKETCHES OF THE PENINSULA.—No. XIV.
BARCELONA,
A GENERAL account of the city of Barcelona has been
given in No. 259 of the ‘ Penny Magazine,’ as well as a
sketch of part of the city. By now going somewhat
more into detail, we shall furnish a pretty correct idea
of its principal features.
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
47)
Barcelona is a regularly fortified city with a citade.
and detached fort, and, next to Elvas, is perhaps one
of the strongest fortifications in the Peninsula. The
citadel, which is situated on the side next the plain, is a
perfect model of its kind. It consists of a fortified
heptagon, with ravelins and cavaliers, the bastions have
retired orillon flanks; the tower which stands near the
ramparts is singularly beautiful, and forms a cross,
with an open lantern on the top. This tower, combined
with the domes of the governor’s house and the barracks
in the square, gives a graceful and pleasing appearance
to an object, at the best of an uninteresting character
except toascientific observer. ‘The Esplanade, in front
of the citadel and within the city walls, forms a pleasant
walk during the delightful summer evenings. It is
traversed by a quadruple row of stately elms, whose
thick foliage forms a grateful protection from the heat
of the sun, which in the summer is excessive. The
centre is ornamented by grottss and by fountains, whose
refreshing showers tend still further to cool the air,
and though the sculptures do not exhibit the perfections
of classic art, they are sufficiently well executed to be
agreeable and pleasing ornaments to the walk. The
public garden is situated at one end of the Esplanade ;
it is neither extensive nor beautiful, but contains a large
collection of small singing birds. As all executions
take place in the Esplanade, it is not much frequented
by the inhabitants, and the Rambla, though neither
possessed of fountains nor so many trees, is preferred
by them. ‘This promenade is situated in the heart of
the city, and divides it into two unequal parts. The
market is held at one end, while the other is reserved
for the display of fashion and beauty. The excessive
heat in the summer prevents the indulgence of the
exercise of walking in the day time, but the Rambla is
crowded in the evening. The Opera House also is
situated in this walk; and as all the wealthy families
have a box of their own, they pass the evening between
the theatre and the Rainbla; the purity of the atmo-.
sphere and mildness of the night air prevents their ex-
periencing any injurious consequences arising from the
transition from the heated Opera House to the open air,
even when only protected by the addition of the man-
tilla, or lace veil, thrown gracefully over the head and
shoulders of the ladies. The Rambla also contains many
houses of refreshment, to which the ladies resort in order
to partake of ices, sweetmeats, or coffee, &c. Let noone
be surprised at this: inebriety is a vice unknown amongst
the Spanish gentlemen, and indeed amongst all classes ;
the temperate Spaniard, though living in a wine country
and thirsty climate, rarely slakes his thirst, except at
meal time, with any thing but water, flavoured with the
milk of almonds and a little sugar. Such betng the
veneral habits of the people, ladies may enter these
places without being afraid of witnessing any impro-
priety in the conduct of the company assembled.
The college and church of Belem are also situated
in the Rambla, as well as the convent of Santa Clara.
This building is now, like most of the monastic edifices,
converted into a barrack and is occupied by a battalion of
the National Guard. The college was for a long time
closed except to persons educating for the church; gene-
ral education being discouraged The present govern-
ment have more enlightened views, and consider educa-
tion a national benefit; they have therefore again opened
the colleges io all classes of persons. Besides the college
of Belein there is a mercantile establishment at the Casa
de Lonja, or Exchange; this establishment was founded
by the merchants of Barcelona, for the improvement
and education of persons connected with commerce or
the arts. 'The School of Design, chiefly for mercantile
purposes, is well calculated to improve trade by intro-
ducing taste and elegance into every branch, while, by
cultivating native talent, a premiuin is offered for ime
472
provement. The School of Design is lighted by gas,
the only establishment which has attained to that im-
proved method of lighting, the theatres and all other
public places being illuminated with wax candles or oil,
asin Britain some years back.
The building of the Casa de Lonja is extremely
handsome, and is a tine specimen of the Doric order;
the staircase is trnly magnificent; each step being
composed of one large slab of marble, and each landing-
place of only two. The upper part of the bnilding is
entirely devoted to education; and class-roonis are esta-
blished for the study of design, the classics, the English,
French, Italian, and German languages, writing and
mathematics ; in short, every branch of a liberal edun-
cation. ‘The Casa de Lonja stands in the great square,
or Plaza del Palacio. The entrance to Barcelona by
this square is exceedingly fine: the Custom-house, built
elltirely of white marble, and covered with ornament;
the Ducal Palace, the beautiful palaces of the nobility,
the Exchange, and the varied style of domestic archi-
tecture, with the fine towers of the old church of Our
Lady of the Sea, are all objects of admiration to a
stranger. The palace represented in our view is less
interesting as a work of art than for its historical asso-
clations. It was from the windows in the corner that
Philip ¥, acknowledged the rights and privileges of the
Catalans after he had gained possession of the smoking
ruins of their capital; it was here that Ferdinand halted
on his way to Bayonne ; it was here that the constiti-
tion was proclaimed in 1812; it was here that Colonel
Bassa met his fate; and it was here that General Mina,
the great Guerrilla chief, witnessed the proclamation of
the constitution in 1836, and here also that he breathed
his last. The circumstance of Mina’s having lived and
died in this palace, is sufficient to give interest to the
———_
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[Palace of Barcelona. |
*.* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at 59, Lincoln’s Inn Fields,
{LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT & CO.,
Vrinted by Witttam CLowgs and Sons, Stamford Street.
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
a fon 0h bi
[ DeceMBER 2, L837,
spot, for though his character as a man may be charged —
with crnelty and severity, it cannot be denied that the
peculiar organisation of the Guerrilla bands, their per-
severing courage and devoted patriotism, may be traced
to his effective and incessant exertions.
The fortifications of Barcelona on this side are in-
complete, but workmen are now actively employed in
their erection. It is purposed to form an entrance into
the square by two splendid gates, whose majestic ap-
pearance will considerably heighten the effect. The —
quays which run aronnd the entire harbour are maeni-
ficent, and the mole on which the lighthouses are
erected is a work of Herculean magnitude; indeed, the
entire effect of the entrance to Barcelona from the sea
is strikingly beautiful; the castle-crowned Monjuic, the
harbour, the city, and the surrounding country, are of
the most pleasing character. The position of Barce-
lona is extremely fine; it lies at the foot of a steep and
stronely-fortified hill, on the shores of a small bay of
the Mediterranean, and surronnded at a little distance
by a semicircle of beautiful and picturesque hills
which close it in on every side. .The country around
is crowded by the quintas; or country-houses, of the
eentry, and covered with their @ardens and orchards ;
numbers of fine convents enliven, with their white walls
and belfries, the slopes of the hills, and some of the
highest peaks are crowned by religious edifices of va-
rious dimensions, and for various purposes. Convents,
monasteries, nunneries, and hermitages are scattered
over the face of the country in every direction, and in
the most conspicuous situations; some overhanging
vast precipices—others crowning almost inaccessible
mountains—others almost buried in the valleys—yet
all uniting to excite the surprise or admiration of the
traveller
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society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge.
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PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY.
| DecEMBER 9, 1837.
A LOOKING-GLASS FOR LONDON.—No. XXVII.
AMUSEMENTS—THE THEATRES.
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{ Covent Garden Theatre. ]
In a map prefixed to Maitland’s London, representing
the metropolis as it appeared “ about the year 1560,”
there is no trace of a theatre, though we know that
about twenty years afterwards there were three or four.
But if there he no theatre, the map is not without evi-
dence of what were public amusements. In_ those
days, when strolling play ers were content to perform inl
the courtyard of an inn, their spectators looking down
upon them from the old wooden balconies, rougher
amusements had secured for themselves permanent
habitations. Among the references in the map, is one
to the cockpit 5
the notorious Bankside, are two round buildings, open
at the top, and adorned with flags, under which are
written ‘ bull-baitine,” and “ bear-baiting.”
There appears to have been a theatre in London in
the year 1576—-it was probably the first regular theatre
of the metropolis. In that year also was the Black-
friars built, so famous from Shakspeare’s connexion
with it; and in the year following the Curtain in Shore-
ditch, in which Ben Jonson performed. These were
speedily followed by others, which, as they were mostly
small wooden structures, were easily thrown up, and as
easily consumed by the slightest touch of fire. “A view
of the Globe Theatre at Bankside is given in No. 56
of the ‘Penny Magazine.’
While the theatre was undergoing various mutations
—now seemingly established by Shakspeare and his
colleagues, then driven into obscurity by the stern spirit
VoL. VI.
and conspicuous on the Surrey side of
the ‘Thames, behind the strip of houses known then as
of religious zeal; again patronised, and made a nest of
profligacy, and from that time gradually but slowly ele-
vated—the ereat bulk of the people remained attached
to their rough and out-of-door amusements. During
the last century bear-baiting and bull-baiting continued
to attract crowded Tene om and boasted of ane patron-
age of “ persons of quality ; » the self-styled ‘‘ noble art
of self-defence,” not with fists merely, but with sharp
slashing swords, drew females to witness its brutal
exhibitions ; : and even females publicly advertised boxiny
matches, with all the swagger of bulhes. The people
did go to the theatre; they filled the galleries, dis-
turbed the’ performances, and dictated to the actors.
If they chose to indulge in the horse-play of stopping
the coaches and sedans conveying masqueraders to their
amusements, atid ordering them to let down their masks,
that they mieht see who they were, nobody thought of
resisting’ the ‘joke—even rough-spun Johnson was glad
to escape into antithesis, * to exclaim, that ee welt
insolence in peace was their bravery in war.’
The bhear-gardens and cock-pits have disappeared,
and in their stead are zoological gardens; the fairs of
London have been blotted out, one by one, except Bar-
tholomew Fair, which still annually, with its booths,
puppets, crowds, and gilt oingerbread, keeps Smithfield
cattle-market in dul (dientas but an ave and decay
are stamped on it. Crowds do not rush. now, as they
did a few years ago, to the “ Fives Court,” or to some
field adjoining London, to see men shake hands, and
then fall to pounding each other. Were Shakspeare
3 P
474
now to walk into one of our gas-lit theatres, he might
fancy that machinist, property-man, and painter were.
really inspired by “a muse of fire;” and if they had
not risen, were at least rising “* into the highest heaven
of invention.” Little occasion, he might think, is there,
now-a-days, to compare the theatre to a “ wooden O,”
or to apologise for the attempt to represent the conten-
tions of two mighty kingdoms within its limited com-
pass. True, he might ask, is the change an improve-
ment, or only an alteration? Is not the eye too often
filled at the expense of the understanding? But the
change is a very great improvement. The “ decline of
the drama” is as much a fiction as the grandeur of the
“oood old times.” ‘There is, at least, as large a pro-
portion of lovers of the “ legitimate’ drama as ever
there were in London; and as for the crowds who
flock nightly to Drury Lane or the Adeiphi, to see
splendid bnt meaningless spectacles, where sense is
almost totally absorbed in sight, we must recollect that
their ancestors flocked to Bartholomew or Southwark
fairs, and filled booths erected by managers and actors
of patent theatres. Malcolin, at the commencement of
the present century, complained that ‘ the amusements
of the present day are very confined.” ‘There were
then ‘but five or six theatres—we have at present
eighteen; and this number, taking into account also
the mumerous ew sources of instructive entertalnment
that havesprung up—institutions, lectures, and libraries,
shows that there is no decline of attachment on the part
of the people of London to theatrical amusements.
One reason why the theatre is still so far below what
it might be is,that London is supplied with amuse-
iments on the sane principle that it is supplied with
food; but without producing the same result. Our
natural tastes and appetites lead us to choose what we
think best, and we secure a supply by the demand; but
in theatricals, as in many other matters, our taste re-
quires education. All managers are naturally anxious
to realise a profit; few dare, amid the great compe-
tition, to risk the experiment of leading their audiences,
instead of being led by them. ‘The majority of all
classes, young and old—the London-born citizen, the
resident, and the visiter,—relish a sight or a show,
enjoy a night at the Opera or the play, and are found
willing, according to their means, to pay a guineaa
head for admission to a morning concert, or a sixpelce
in the evening to hear comic songs sung in the great
room of a tavern. If the head of the family has out-
lived the theatrical enthusiasm of his earlier days, and,
immersed in business, cares little for sights that, like a
sky-recket, dazzle the eye a moment, and then go out
in darkness, still there are younger people to gratify.
Y'o dress for the boxes is itself a pleasure; to be able,
aiter standing at the counter, or leaning over the desk,
all day, to cross one or two streets, and make one in a
crowded pit, is an enjoyment which none but a London
citizen can relish with so keen, and yet so cool and
business-like, a zest. ‘That there is a vast lmprove-
utent in the habits of London play-@vers, is evident
from the fact, that the galleries no longer thunder their
displeasure or applause in the same authoritative and
tremendous manner as of old. Let us hope that the
improvement will become every day more manifest,
and that the great bulk of the..people, despising cant
phrases and unmeaning songs,’ will make even their
amusements subservient to the nobler purpose of their
instruction.
The Italian Opera was established in London about
the commencement of last century. It had for a con-
siderable time but a struggling kind of existeuce, but
from the pertod of Handel’s management became a
permanent portion of Tondon amusements. When
the original house was erected by Sir John Vanbrugh,
it stood almost in the:fields. That house was destroyed |
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
{DecEMBER 9,
by fire in 1789, and the present building was soon after
erected: but the exterior colonnade, &c., was not added
til] 1S18—20. The Opera House, occupying the corner
of the Haymarket and Pall Mall, was the most westerly
theatre of London until the erection, about two years
ago, of Mr. Braham’s handsome theatre in King Street,
between St. James's Square and St. James’s Street.
Almost every reader is aware that the Italian Opera
House is the chief resort of the fashionable world of
London; the admission to the gallery is five shillings,
aud half-a-guinea to the pit.
On the opposite side of the Haymarket from the
Opera House is the Haymarket Theatre. The present
building is the third that has been built on the same
site. ‘The Haymarket Theatre has been long a favorite ;
and as the greater number of the London theatres have
each a distinctive character as to the kind and quality
of the performances, so the Haymarket is particularly
noted for its comedies.
Passing along the Strand, we have the Adelphi on
the north side and the Strand Theatre on the south.
The Adelphi is a small and not a very convenient
theatre; but when open during the winter is crowded
every night. Its characteristics are spectacles, the story
and dialorue of which are never over-charged with
meaning, but combined with really exquisite pictorial
scenery, aud burlettas and farces whose broad and
sometimes coarse humour throws the audiences into fits
of laughter.
Turning up the new street which Jeads from the
Strand, opposite Wellington Street and Waterloo
Bridge, we pass the new building of the English Opera
House. The original house called the Lyceum met
with the fate of most theatres, in -being destroyed by
fire, in 1829. Not very far from it are the two patent
theatres, Drury Lane and Covent Garden; and in
Wych Street, which continues Drury Lane to the Strand,
is the Olympic, which, for several years, has been
managed by Madame Vestris. Thus within a space
which might be walked over in twenty minutes or half
an hour, are nine of the eighteen London theatres, all
of them the largest or the most fashionably attended of
any in the metropolis. In the early part of the year,
when they are nearly all open at the same time, the
crowd and bustle, the blaze of light from open shops,
the rattling of carriages and cabriolets, make twelve
o’clock at night in this quarter of London appear as
ailinated as twelve or three o’ clock in the “ city”
during the day.
In Shakspeare’s time a cockpit in Drury Lane was
turned into a theatre, and termed the Phoenix. Ever
since, there has been a theatre hereabout ; and though
the present building does not occupy the site of the
original one, still Drury Lane Theatre may be con-
sidered as the oldest of existing theatres in London.
Coveit Garden Theatre was not built till 1733. Both
theatres have been repeatedly destroyed by fire: the
last time within a year of each other—in 1808 and
1809. The present buildings are therefore of nearly
the same age. ‘They are large and maguificent struc-
tures. Built under the idea that their patents would
secure them nearly a monopoly of metropolitan theatrical
amusements, the houses can hold immense numbers;
but their size, now that so many smaller, and therefore
more comfortable, theatres have been built, is a decided
drawback to their permanent success.
On the Surrey side of the Thames -there are three
theatres, one of them the well-known ainphitheatre, or
circus, called Astley’s. Again, on the east side of
London, in Middlesex, there are three; and on the
north-west, two—one of them,:Sadler’s Wells, the oldest
minor theatre of London. It originated in a music-
room, connected with a mineral spring, at one time in
great repute, and which was called the Islington Spa,
1837.]
or New Tunbridge Wells. The theatre of Sadter’s
Wells was formerly very celebrated and much fre-
quented: being close to the reservoir of the New River
Water Company, the audience were delielited with real
aquatie exhibitions. ‘The house has now fallen into
comparative disrepute.
The reader will find a list of the London theatres in
the ‘ British Almanac,’ with particulars respecting their
performances and times of opening and closing. Tlie
other amusements of London will be described in a
subsequent paper.
ACCOUNT OF A YOUNG CUCKOO.
Or all the birds that visit this island, one of the most
remarkable is the cuckoo.
its habits, that the following account of a young bird
of the species, which was reared in a cage for five
weeks, may perhaps add somewhat to the information
already possessed on the subject.
The young cuckoo is totally different in appearance
from the full-grown bird; being chiefly of a dark greyish
brown, the feathers barred with rust colour, and tipped
with white: the under part of the body is white, with
numerous transverse bars of black.* The plumage,
unlike that of most young birds, is very thick, smooth,
and close set.
The specimen, of which the following 1s an account,
was brought to the door by a labouring boy who had
found it in a meadow at the end of July. It was then
about three weeks or a month old, and had Just begun
to fly a little. It was unable to feed itself, but ate
greedily out of the hand, and had an immense appetite,
which it seemed impossible to satisfy. Jor some days
it was fed entirely on raw meat, and soaked bread, and
hempseed ; but its relish for this diet soon diminished,
and it was then supplied with insects of various kinds,
which were evidently its natural food. In less than a
week from the time it was caught, it learnt to pick
for itself, as well as to fly readily. Of all insects it
seemed to prefer enats and grasshoppers, especially the
latter, which it wonld kill at a blow, and eat at one
mouthful, without rejecting any part. Next to these it
liked moths, butterflies, and caterpillars, of every species
indifferently. ‘The cabbage-caterpillar, from the fa-
cility of procuring it, was its staple-food; of these it
used to eat about 200 full-grown ones ina day. ‘The
caterpillar of the buff-tip moth (Pyg@ra Bucephala),
aud the downy green caterpillar which feeds on the
mignonnette, were also given to it sometimes: the latter
was perhaps its favourite food. Spiders and lady-birds
it devoured greedily, and occasionally wasps and flies,
though apparently without much relish. It ate large
quantities of sand. From its manner of darting towards
its food as it erew older, and tearing it from the hand
with out-spread wings, there can be no doubt that in
its natural state it finds its prey on the wing as well as
when stationary.
It not only had perfect command of itself on the
perch and on the wine (for it had a powerful and
mraceful flight), but also climbed with great facility and
swiftness, running dexterously wp the wires of its cage.
It hopped too, but not well.
At first it had two cries; one a gentle chirp, uttered
incessantly when hungry, at the same time that it
vehemently shook one wing (never both), so as to im-
part a tremulous motion to the body: the other a con-
tinued low tremulous sound, uttered while taking its
food. As it grew older, it gradually discontinued this
* See © Faculties of Birds,’ Library of Entertaming Knowledge,
p. 357. The‘plate there given is very like it, except that the
_ young cuckoo rarely sits wiih its neck so upright and stretched
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
So very little is known of
change took place in the creature’s disposition.
475
latter cry, and the first became munch more loud and
hoarse.
Notwithstanding the supposed stupidity of the cuckoo,
which is called in Scotland “ gowk,” or fool, this young
bird showed much intelligence and observation, and was
a most amusing pet. From the first it seemed to notice
everything, and was as meddlesome and fond of picking:
asapie. It delighted in biting the fingers of persons
who came near it; in pulling pins out of a pincushion,
and in hammering at any stuffed bird which was
shown to it. No creature could be more fearless and
familiar. For the first fortnight it was allowed to have
the range of a room during the greater part of the day;
and though it was perfectly able to fly, it would sit up
for hours by the side of its owner, perched on the
handle of a basket, and would allow itself to be stroked,
caressed, taken up, and carried about on the finger.
It was impossible to drive it; if a stick were presented
to it, the cuckoo would fly at it with outspread wings
and attack it vigorously.
After the first fortnight it was removed from the
house, and placed in a large cage out of doors, with a
pair of Barbary doves. From this time a singular
All
gentleness and quietness of demeanour vanished: it
instantly became as fierce and irritable as any young
bird of prey. It did not molest the doves, except that
it kept them at a distance for some time, and would
strike them with his wing, and peck them sharply, if
they attempted to approach him, or examine his food.
Latterly they became very good friends, and would
even plume each other. But it was to the human race
that it showed the most dislike. If any one came near
the cage, the cuckoo would raise his wings, bristle up
the feathers of its head, and elare ferociously; if a
finger was shown to it, it would fly at it, scream, hiss,
flap its wings, and bite very hard. At the same time
the expression of its face visibly altered, and it looked
ull-temper personified 5; in short it gave every indication
of being by nature a ravenous, powerful, pugnacions
bird.
For five weeks the cuckoo continued healthy and
flourishing, and hopes were entertained that, with care,
it might be reared through the winter. ‘Lhis interest-
ing experiment has generally failed, and in this instance
it was unsuccessful. The cage in which it was kept
was always left out of doors all meht during August
withont the bird’s receiving any injury from the ex-
posure, and the removing it under cover was delayed a
little too long; the last night of August was very cold,
and the cuckoo died next day in consequence. At the
time of its death it measured eighteen inches in length,
not having attained either its full size or full plumage ;
the latter it does not acquire till the third year.
ON THE STRUCTURE OF THE TEETH.
(From the ‘ Philosophy of Health, by Dr. Southwood Smith.)
(Concluded from No. 364.]
Proviston having been thus made for the organization
of the tooth, for the support of its vitality, and for its
connexion with the living system, over all that portion
of it which is above the gum, and which constitutes the
essential part of the instrument, there is poured a dense,
hard, inorganic, insensible, all but indestructible, sub-
stance, termed enamel (fig. chix. 2); a substance in-
organic, composed of earthy salts, priucipally phosphate
of lime with a slight trace of animal matter; a substauce
of exceeding density, of a milky-white colour, seim-
transparent, and consisting of minute fibrons crystals.
The manner in which this inorganic matter is arranged
about the body of the tooth is worthy of notice. ‘Phe
i crystals are disposed in radii springing from the centre
3 P 2
476
of the tooth (fig. ctx. 3); so that the extremities of
the crystals form the external surface of the tooth, while
the internal extremities are in contact with the bony
substance (fig. cux. 3). By this arrangement a two-
fold advantage is obtained; the enamel is less apt to
be worn down by friction, and is less liable to accidental
fracture.
Fig. CLX.
A SS
mee = =
=.
=
ESE
Pr A uy
=== te
——(——
es
ee
(Magnified section of a tooth, to illustrate the arrangement of the fibrous
crystals composing the enamel. 1. Cavity of the “tooth. 2 Bony sub-
‘ances. 3. Mnamel, showing the crystals disposed in radii.}
In this manner an instrument is constructed pos-
sessing the requisite hardness, durability, and insen-
sibility ; yet organized, alive, as truly an integrant
portion of the living system as the eye or the heart.
No less care is indicated in fixing than in construct-
ing the instrnment. It is held in its situation not by
one expedient, but by many.
1. All alone the margin of both jaws is placed a bony
arch, pierced with holes, which constitute the sockets,
called alveoli, for the teeth (fig. cux1). Each socket
or alveolus is distinct, there being one alveolus for each
tooth (fig, cLx1). The adaptation of the root to the
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
tie oe
alveolus is so exact, and the adhesion so close, that each |
root is fixed in its alveolus just as a nail is fixed when
driven into a board.
ie, Cbxt.
ca 2
aay
Aggie
Kom my
>» x
é & = ‘
ae
& =
(Upper jaw, showing the alveoli.]
2. The roots of the tooth, when there are more than
one, deviate from a straight line (fig. civi. 6, 7, 8);
and this deviation from parallelism, on an obviate me-
chanical principle, adds to the firmness of the connexion.
3. Adherent by one edge to the bony arch of the jaw,
and by the other to the neck of the tooth, is a peculiar
substance, dense, firm, membranous, called the g@nm,
Jess hard than cartilage, but much harder than skin, or
common membrane; abounding with blood-vessels, yet
but little sensible; constructed for the express purpose
of assisting to fix the teeth in their situation.
4. The dense and firm membrane covering the bony
arch of the jaw is continued into each alveolus which
it lines; from the bottom of the alveolus this mem-
brane is reflected over the root of the tooth, which it
completely invests as far as the neck, where it terminates,
and where the enamel begins: this membrane, like a
tense and strone band, powerfully assists in fixing the
tooth.
5, Lastly, the vessels and nerves which enter at the
extremity of the root, like so many strings, assist in
tying it down; hence, when in the progress of age, all
the other fastenings are removed, these strings hold
[DECEMBER 9
the teeth so firmly to the bottom of the socket, that their
removal always requires considerable force.
But a dense substance like enamel, acting with force
awainst so hard a substance as bone, would produce
a jar which, propagated along the bones of the face
and skull to the brain, would severely i injure that tender
organ, and effectually interfere with the comfort of
eating.
ue evil is guarded against,
By the structure of ie al veal (fio. cLxiI.), wh ch
are cana not of dense and compact, but of loose
and spongy bone (fig.cLuxi). This cancellated ar-
[View of the upper and lower teeth in the alveoli: the external alveolar plate
being cut away to show the cancellated structure of the alveoh, and the
articulation of the teeth. }
rangement of the osscous fibres is admirably adapted
for absorbing vibrations and preventing their propaga-
tion,
2. By the rid ible which lines the socket.
3. By the ‘membrane which covers the root of thie
tooth; and,
4. By the gum.
These membranous substances, even more than the
cancellated structure of the alveoli, absorb vibrations
and counteract the communication of a shock to the
bones of the face and head when the teeth act foreibly
on hard materials; so many and such nice adjustments
oo to secure enjoyment, nay to prevent exquisite pain,
n the simple operation of bringing the teeth into con-
tact in the act of eating.
‘The teeth in mastication are passive instruments put
in motion by the jaws. The upper jaw is fixed, the
lower only is moveable. The lower jaw is capable of
four different motions; depression, elevation, a motion
forwards and backwards, and partial rotation. ‘These
Fig. CLXILL—VFrew of the Muscles of Masticution, which elevate
the lower jaw.
2. Itsinsertion passing beneath.
4. The masseter muscle, its anterior portion reflected to show the insertion
(1. The temporal muscle. 3. The zygoma,
of the temporal. The action of these powcrful muscles is to pull the lower
jaw upwards with great force against the upper jaw, and at the same time
{o draw it a little forwards or backwards, according to the direction of the
fibres of the muscles.]
1837.]
simple motions are capable, by combination, of pro-
ducing various compound motions. Numerous muscles,
some of them endowed with prodigious power, are so
disposed and combined as to be able, at the command
of volition, to produce any of these motions that may
be required, simple or compound.
By the combination, succession, alternation, and
repetition of these motions, the lower is inade to pro-
duce upon the upper jaw all the variety of pressure
necessary for the mastication of the food. In this
process the muscles of the tongue perform scarcely a
less important part than the muscles of the lower Jaw.
Some of its muscular fibres shorten the tongue, some
wive it breadth, others render it concave, and others
convex: so ample is the provision for moving this organ
to different parts of the mouth and fauces, whether to
bruise the softer parts of the aliment against the palate,
to mix it with the saliva, or to place it under the
pressure of the teeth.
Fig, CLXIV.— Muscles of the jaw.
[l. Portion of the zygomatic process of the temporal bone, 2. Ascending
plate of the lower Jaw removed to expose, 3. External pterygoid, and,
4, Internal pterygoid rauscies, ‘The action of these muscles is to raise the
lower jaw, and to pull it obliquely towards the opposite side. When both
muscles act toyether, they bring the lower jaw forwards, so as to make the
fore-teeth project beyond those of the upper jaw.]
By the combined action of the muscles of the lower
jaw and tongue, and that of the teeth, the food is bruised,
cut, torn, and divided into minute fragments. This
operation is of so much importance that the whole pro-
cess of digestion is imperfect without it. It is proved
by direct experiment that the stomach acts upon the
aliment with u facility in some degree proportionate to
the perfection with which itisimasticated. If an animal
swallow morsels of food of different bulks, and the
stomach be examined after a gwiven time, digestion 1s
found to be the most advanced in the smallest pieces,
which are often completely softened, while the larger are
scarcely acted upon at all.
MENDICANCY IN IRELAND.
To a person but little acquainted with the condition of
Ireland in general, the proportion which those of the
people who live entirely by mendicancy bear to the
population at lar@e, would at first sight appear almost
incredible. It is so enormous however as to call forth
the remark of every traveller; but from the wandering
kind of life which the Irish mendicants lead—by far the
greater part of thein having no fixed place of abode—
their exact statistical amonnt has never yet with any
degree of accuracy been ascertained. Mr. Nicholls,
one of the Poor Law Commissioners, whilst travel-
ling recently in Ireland with the view to arrive at a
practical conclusion as to the best means of aimeliora-
ung the condition of the Irish poor, had his attention
powerfully arrested by thisclass. ‘ One of the circum-
stances,” says he, ‘‘ that first arrests attention in Ireland,
is the almost universal prevalence of mendicancy. It
ss not perhaps the actual amount of misery existing
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
|
|
nS
477
amongst the mendicant class, great as that may be,.
which is most to be deprecated ; but the falsehood, the
trickery and fraud, which become a part of their pro-
fession, and spread by their example. Mendicancy
appeals to our sympathies on behalf of vice, as well as
wretchedness ; and encouragement is too often afforded
to the one, by the relief intended to be administered to
the other. ‘To assuine the semblance of misery, in all
its most revolting varieties, is the business of the men-
dicant. His success depends upon the skill with which
he exercises deception. A mass of filth, nakedness,
and misery, is constantly moving about, entering every
house, addressing itself to every eye, and soliciting from
every hand: and much of the dirty and indolent habits
observable in the cabins, clothing and general conduct
of the peasantry, may probably be traced to this source,
and I doubt even if those above the class of labourers
altogether escape the taint. Mendicancy and wretched-
ness have become too common to be disgraceful. It is
not disreputable to beg’, or to appear wretchedly clothed,
or to be without any of the decencies of life: and the
semblance of such misery is not unfrequently assumed
for some special object, by individuals not of the men-
dicant class.”
The Irish mendicants are composed of two classes of
the people: those called ‘ Boccoughs,’ with whom
mendicancy is a regulary and only means of subsistence ;
and those whom nothing less than real destitution has
driven, for a time, to its adoption. ‘The former, of
whom Mr. Nicholls has presented us with so faithfnl a
sketch, are notorious all over Ireland for their fraudulent
and dissolute habits, and are in the constant practice
of attending all the great [rish fairs; in the midst of
which, and in the various approaches to tle towns, they
are seen in @reat numbers, affecting with much ap-
parent success all the shocking varieties of misery and
disease. But the latter class of mendicants are a much
more decent and inoffensive race, notorious however for
the dissemination of news, and even for their discussions
on political questions, many of whom return to their
former course of independent exertion, when the de-
mand for their labour, after 2 temporary stagnation,
had again arisen.
The Boccoughs generally reside in the common lodg-
ing-honses in the towns and villages, at which piaces
numbers of them are in the habit of meeting together
aud spending the night in gambling and dissipation.
Not so with the wandering mendicant, who, when
darkness overtakes him on his journey, begins to look
about him at random for lodging and shelter for the
night, which he readily obtains on application at the
first cabin that presents itself. He prefers applying
for this accommodation to the smaller class of farmers
or cottiers, because the larger holder is unwilling to
adinit him; and, as a means of getting rid of the men-
dicant, gives him the straw with which he makes his
bed in the cabin of the cottier. Nor can it now be
said of either the Irish clergyman or the resident landed
proprietor, that-——
‘“ His house is known to all the vagrant tribe.”
Hence the support of this class of Irish paupers falls
principally upon the very persons who are the least
able of all others to afford it.
There appears but little reason to suspect that many
of the Irish nendicants are the children of mendicants.
Indeed a bewear’s wedding ts of very rare occurrence ;
and the small number of persons in the prime of life
who are seen following that trade in Ireland, leads at
least to the conclusion that few have followed it with-
out interruption from their childhood. It is possible,
however, that some may have been thus reared, when
the number who have been reduced to a state of men-
dicancy at one time or another is taken into account.
|The greater number of vagrants in Ireland are femaies,
4-78
and it is considered that their husbands, if they be
widows, had in most instances been more or less de-
pendant during their lives on labour or on their plot of
land, fora livelhhhood ; and that the loss of the land, or the
inadequacy of it to support a large family, had reduced
them to a state of destitntion. Nor does it appear that
inany adopt this mode of life originally through idle-
ness; bnt a great part of the peasantry finding, by a
little experience, how easy it is to live tolerably well by
it, continue it much longer than the existence of the
circumstances which first led them to adopt it, whilst
not a few abide by it as a means of snbsistence ever
afterwards. Indeed the condition of the mendicant is
acknowledged on all hands to be in every respect
better than that of the independent Irish labourer,
and yet notwithstanding this, there are few young and
able-bodied mendicants to be met with. The sense of
shame must certainly be the only feeling that deters
many such from having recourse to a mode of life
which is preferable to their own in the command of the
necessaries of life.
Yhe relief which is given to mendicants consists
almost exclusively of potatoes ; and, except in the
towns, seldom indeed in money: milk is also given
occasionally. The small farmers and others prefer
viving relief in food, not only because it is readier at
hand, but becanse, when the applicants become nu-
merous, it can be distributed in smaller portions than
the value of any existing coin. In summer, when po-
tatoes are scarce, and the mendicants are much more
numerons, the peasant finds it necessary to exercise
some degree of discrimination ju the giving of meals.
‘Towards the end of each day he is obliged to confine
his charity to what he calls especial objects, that is to
say, to such as have large families of young children.
“* "the mendicants,” says Mr. Nicholls, ‘‘ enter the cot-
tages of the peasantry as supplicants, it is true, but
still with a certain sense of right; and the cottager
would be held to be a bold, if not a bad man, who re-
sisted their appeal. In fact the appeal of the mendi-
cant is never resisted,—if there is only a handful of
potatoes, they are divided with the begear; and there
is thus levied from the produce of the soil in Ireland,
for the support of mendicancy, I believe to the full as
large a contribution as would be raised by an equitable
assessment of property for the relief of destitution.”
In the giving of relief or shelter to mendicants, the
cottagers are for the most part actnated by strong feel-
ings of charity and commiseration, whilst not a few
of a more superstitious turn than the rest, dare not
refuse it from a foolish dread which exists of incurring
the beggar’s curse. Another motive which infinences
many in giving alms to the beg@ear, is to be found in a
religious feeling; the donor imagining that in so doing
he is benefitting hisown soul. Yet nevertheless custom
must have had all along some share in keeping up the
practice, for it is found exceedingly difficult to make the
Irish peasantry understand that in the event of the
Legislature providing a sufficient fund for the relief of
the mendicant, they would be absolved in a great mea-
sure from the obligation of assisting him.
The Beginning of Covetousness.—There is not a vice
which more effectually contracts and deadens the feelings,
which more completely makes a man’s affections centre in
himself, and excludes all others from partaking in them,
than the desire of accumulating possessions. When the
desire has once gotten hold on the heart, it shuts out all
other considerations but such as may promote its views.
In its zeal for the attainment of its end, it is not delicate in
the choice of means. As it closes the heart, so also it
clouds the understanding. It cannot discern between right
and wrong: it takes evil for good, and good for evil: it
calls darkness light, and light darkness. Beware, then, of
the beginning of covetousness, for you know not where it
will end.—Mant.
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
{Decemner 9,
PRINCIPLES WHICH DETERMINE THE HOURS
OF WORK IN COTTON FACTORIES AND IN
OTHER EMPLOYMENTS.
(Extract from Letters to the Right Hon. C. P. Thomson, by Nassau
W. Senor, [sq.)
I HAVE always been strnck by the difference between
the hours of work usual over the whole world in cotton
factories and in other employments; and did not, until
now, perceive the reasons. It seems to arise from two
causes: first, the great proportion of fixed to circulating
capital, which makes long honrs of work desirable ; and,
secondly, the extraordinary lightness of the labour, if
labour it can be called; which renders them practicable.
I will take them separately :—
1. I find the usual computation to be that the fixed
capital is in the proportion of fonr to one to the circu-
lating’; so that if a mannfacturer has 50,000/. to em-
ploy, he will expend 40,000J. in erecting his mill and
filling it with machinery, and devote only 10,0002. to
the purchase of raw material (cotton, flour, and coals)
and the payment of wages. I find also that the whole
capital is supposed in general to be turned over (or,
in other words, that goods are produced and sold, repre-
senting the value of the whole capital, together with
the manufacturer’s profit) in about a year; in favour-
able times in rather less,—in others, such as the pre-
sent, in rather more. I find also that the net profit
annually derived may be estimated at ten per cent.,
some computations placing it as low as seven and a half,
others as high as eleven; ten I believe to be abont the
average. But in order to realize this net profit, a ¢ross
profit of ratner more than fifteen per cent. is necessary ;
for although the circulating capital, being continually
restored to its original form of money, may be considered
as indestructible, the fixed capital is subject to incessant
deterioration, not only from wear and tear, bnt also
from constant mechanical improvements, which in eight
or nine years render obsolete machinery which, when
first used, was the best of its kind.
Under the present law, no mill in which persons
under eighteen years of age are employed (and, there-
fore, scarcely any mill at all) can be worked more than
eleven hours and a half a-day, that is, twelve hours for
five days in the week and nine on Saturday.
Now the following analysis will show that in a mill
so worked, the whole net profit is derived from the last
hour. Iwill suppose a manufacturer to invest 100,000/. :
—80,000/. in his mill and machinery, and 20,000J. in
raw material ancl wages. The annual return of that
mill, supposing the capital to be turned once a year,
and gross profits to be fifteen per cent., ought to be
goods worth 115,000/., produced, by the constant con-
version and reconversion of the 20,000/. circulating
capital, from money into goods and from goods into
money, in periods of rather more than two months.
Of this 115,000/. each of the twenty-three half hours of
work produces 5-115ths, or one twenty-third. Of these
23-23rds, (constituting the whole 115,000/.) twenty,
that is to say, 100,000/. out of the 115,0001., simply
replace the capital—one twenty-third (or 5,000/. out of —
the 115,000/.) makes up for the deterioration of the
mill and machinery. The remaining 2-23rds, that is,
the last two of the twenty-three half honrs of every day,
produce the net profit of ten per cent. If, therefore
(prices remaining the same), the factory could be kent
at work thirteen honrs instead of eleven and a half, by
an addition of abont 2,600/. to the circulating capital,
the net profit would be more than doubled. On the
other hand, if the hours of working were reduced by
one hour per day (prices remaining the same) et profit
would be destroyed—if they were reduced by an hour
and a half, even gross profit would be destroyed. The
eircnlating capital would be replaced, but there would
be no fund to compensate the progressive: deterioration —
of the fixed capital.
1837.]
And it is to be remarked, that there are many causes
now at work tending to increase the proportion of fixed
to circulating cupital. The principal, perhaps, is the
tendency of mechanical improvement to throw on ma-
chinery more and more of the work of production. The
self-actine mule is a very expensive machine; but it
dispenses. with the services of the most highly-paid
operatives—the spinners. It has acquired, indeed, the
sobriquet of the ‘‘ Cast Iron Spinner.” Though of
recent introduction, we found it employed in a large pro-
portion of the principal factories. At Orrell’s splendid
factory, we found a new blower enabling three persons
to do the work of four. At Birley’s we found prepara-
tion making for a newly invented process, by which the
wool was to be conveyed direct from the willow to the
blowimg machine, without requiring, as it now does, a
whole set of work-people for that purpose. At Bol-
lieton, we found a new machine, which transfers the
sliver er from the cards to the drawine-frame, and
thus dispenses with another class of attendants. At
another place, we found a weaving’ process, on a vast
scale, differing from all others that we observed during
our tour. And at Stayley Bridge we found a factory
nearly finished, covering two acres and a half of ground,
with buildings only one story high, (that is, ground
floor and first floor,)—so that on each floor the whole
operations will be carried.on in one vast apartmeut-.or
eallery, forming the four sides of a quadrangle, each side
450 feet long: thus saving all the labour employed in
mounting or descending. Each of these five last im-
provements is recent,—so recent, indeed, as not to have
been as yet copied by other establishments. One of
them, the new weaving process, is still kept so secret,
that we were allowed to visit it only as a special favour,
aud on the promise of not revealing its nature. And
the effect of every one of them is to increase fixed, and
dinuinish circulating capital.
Another circumstance, producing the same effect, is
the improvement of the means of transport, and the
consequent diminntion of the stock of raw material in
the manufacturer’s hands waiting for -use.
when coals
aud irregnlarity of supply forced him to keep on hand
two or three months’ consumption. Now, a railway
brings it to him week by week, or rather day by .day,
from the port or the mine.
Under such circumstances I fully anticipate that, in
a very few years, the fixed capital instead of its present:
proportion, will be as six or seven or even ten to one to
the circulating; and, consequently, that the motive to
long hours of work will become greater, as the only
means by which a large proportion of fixed capital can
be made profitable. ‘‘ When a labourer,’ said Mr.
Ashworth to me, ‘lays down -his spade, he renders
useless, for that period, a capital worth .eighteen pence.
When one of our people leaves the mill, le renders
useless a capital that has cost 1000.”
2ud. The exceeding easiness of cotton-factory labour
benders long hours of. work practicable. With the ex-
ception of ‘the mule spinners, a very small portion of
the operatives, probably not exceeding 12,000 or 15,000
in the whole kingdom, and constantly diminishing in
number, the work is merely that of watching the ma-
chinery, and piecing the threads that break. I have
seen the girls who thus attend standing with their arms
folded during the whole time that I stayed in the room
—others sewing a handkerchief or sitting down. The
work, in fact, is scarcely equal to that of a shopman.
behind a counter in a frequented shop—mere confine-
nent, attention, and attendance.— Under these circnm-
stances, cotton factories have always been worked for
very long hours. From thirteen to fifteen, or even
sixteen hours, appear to be the usual hours per day
abroad,
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
Formerly,
and cotton came by water, the uncertainty |
479
CAPTAIN CORAM.
Axour a century ago, the strongly benevolent feelings
of a humble individual were frequently harrowed, on
his daily return from the city to the eastern parts of
the metropolis, by witnessing “ young children exposed,
sometimes alive, sometimes dead, and sometimes dying.”
This individual was Thomas Coram, master of a ship in
the merchant service, who lived in that part of Loudon
which is usually the residence of sea-faring persons.
His truly philanthropic zeal led him to cousider the
means by-which the public spirit could be best aroused
on behalf of the unhappy children thus abandoned
through the indigence or cruelty of their parents;
and without the influence either of rank or wealth, he
resolved that something should be done to mitigate ‘the
evil. He commenced his task prudently by making the
subject a topic of conversation; and having ascer tained
that, in a limited circle, opinions were favourable to his
scheme, he proceeded to obtain for it a wider and more
substantial support. For seventeen years he pursued
his object with untiring perseverance. At length, on
the 20th of November, 1739, he had the gratification
of presenting to a meeting of noblemen and gentlemen,
at Somerset House, a charter of incorporation for a
‘' Hospital for the Maintenance and Education of Ex-
posed and Deserted Young Children.” This has since
become one of the richest institutions in the metropolis,
and for many years after its incorporation was the inost
popular.
It would have been impossible to have united so
many benevolent persons in support of this institution,
unless a deep conviction had prevailed of the enormity
and general prevalence of the evil which it was de-
signed to remove. [t detracts nothing from the phi-
lanthropy of Captain Coram’s character, that he did not
perceive the consequences of a wealthy institution for
the reception of foundlings. The assembled wisdoin of
the nation saw no further than himself; and in 1756 it
came to the following decision, which will be found in
the proceedings of the House of Commons for that
year :—* Resolved,—that the enabling the hospital for
the maintenance and education of exposed and deserted
young children to receive a/ the children that shall be
offered, is the only method to render that charitable
institution of lasting and general utility. * ™* ‘That
to render the said hospital of dasting and general utility,
the assistance of Parliament is necessary. * * That
to render the said hospital of greater utility and effect,
it should be enabled to appoint proper places in all
counties, ridings, or divisions of this kingdom, for the
reception of add exposed and deserted young children.”
The first day on which the institution was opened, 117
children were received; and by the 3lst of December
in the following year, there had been sent in 5510
infants! ‘The institution began to receive Parlramen-
tary aid in 1756; and though its tendency was soon
apparent, yet the evil, when once commenced, could
not be suddenly checked, and nearly 500,000/. had
been expended before the mischievous practice conld be
brought to a termination, Foundlings are no longer
received at the hospital; and if the evil which occa-
sioned its existence were again prevalent on tlie same
scale, which happily is mot the case, the enormous
blunder would not be committed of which it is a most
striking monument. Taking as data the history of the
Foundling Hospital, we may “look back upon the period
since its origin as marked by great improvements both
moral and intellectual.
Tt is interesting to observe the means by wluch a
single individual can be instrumental in doing good
to his fellow-creatures. In the first place, it is true,
there must be a disposition to acknowledge the general
existence of an evil, before any hope can be eutertained
of providing a remedy. It offen, however, falls to the
480
lot of one man to labour in the demonstration of this
fact. Heisso endowed as to perceive it with great acute-
ness and under various forms. Then others begin to
see the object in the same light, and at length, the per-
ceptions of the mass being opened, a general sympatlly
is felt with his views which by means of co-operation
effects with ease what would otherwise be unattainable.
No individual whose faculties are of one common level
can succeed in the work of arousing a whole community.
One feeling must be predominant, and it is to its
streneth that success is to be attributed, for it over-
looks obstacles and gives energy to the whole of a man’s
faculties. In Capt. Coram, as in St. Vincent de Paul,
the feeling which sustained him was benevolence of the
purest and most disinterested character. Added to this,
his manner was strikingly indicative of the honesty and
eenuineness of his motives, and at once procured con-
fidence. When this was gained his benevolent en-
thusiasm carried him forward, and his ardour for the ac-
complishment of his kind-hearted schemes never abated
until they were accomplished. Among other philan-
thropic designs which he entertained was one for
uniting the North American Indians more closely to the
interests of Great Britain by an attempt to educate
their female children. He was so completely immersed
in the charities of life that after his wife’s death his own
affairs were neglected, and a private subscription was
raised for his support.
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THE PENNY MAGAZINE...
generally known he would have been placed in affluent
circumstances, but this was not his wish. On the de-
sign of his friends to contribute towards his support for
the remainder of his life being made known to him,
and being asked if such a step would be offensive, he
said :—“ I have not wasted the little wealth of which I
was formerly possessed in self-indulgence or vain ex-
penses, and am not ashamed to confess-that in my old
ave I am poor.” The Prince of Wales contributed
twenty guineas a year to this fund.
Capt. Coram died March 29, 1751, at his lodgings
near Leicester Square, in the 84th year of his age.
His last request was that he might be buried in the
chapel of the Foundling Hospital. Six of the governors
supported the pall which covered his remains, and many
other friends of the institution were present. The
choir of St. Paul’s Cathedral attended voluntarily and
took a part in the funeral service.
Soon after the Charter of Incorporation for the Found-
ling Hospital had been obtained, it was’moved by Dr.
Mead that the special thanks of the Governors were due
to Capt. Coram “for his indefatigable and successful
application in favour of the charity, which otherwise
would have wanted a legal foundation.” His portrait
by Hogarth (from which the cut is taken) is at the Hos-
pital, and his services to it are recorded in an inscription
over his remains. Several streets westward of the insti-
Had his wants been more j tution are named after him.
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LONDON: CHARLES KNIGHT & CO., 22, LUDGATE STREET, |
Printed by WILLIAM CLowgs and Sons, Stamford Streef,
{[DecrMBER 9, 1837.
THE PENNY MAGAZIN
OF
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PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY.
- ([Decemper 16, 1837,
SKETCHES OF THE PENINSULA.—No. XV.
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{Church of Santa Maria del Mar.] |
Yue church, the back of which is seen in our vignette,
is one of the principal in the city of Barcelona after the
cathedral. Santa Maria del Mar, or our Lady of the
Sea, stands in a small square, leading out of the Plaza
del Palacio; and though, like most of the churches of
this part of the Peninsula, it possesses little external
beauty, it has a solemnity of aspect which commands
attention. The front consists of two towers, the space
between being occupied by the door-way, and a circular
window. ‘The lightness and beauty of the towers are
remarkable. ‘They are octagonal, extremely plain tll
they rise above the body of the building, when they
become arched, having a pointed window in each face.
There are two stories tlius arched, and a lantern of the
same character, but of smaller dimensious, crowus the
whole. Only one of the towers is finished, the other being
surmounted by an iron frame-work, which supports
two small bells. The body of the building is an oblong,
rounded at one end, somewhat of the figure of a tomb-
stone, and not cruciform, as most of the Catholic churches
are; while another peculiarity is, that the front faces
the south. The want of ornament on the exterior 1s
amply compensated within; and though stripped of
much of its splendour in the decorations of the various
Vou, VI, =
chapels and altars, it retains enough to impress the
visiter with tne pomp and magnificence displayed in the
Roman ritual. The arched roof is supported upon a
double row of octagonal columns, aud it is surprising
how pillars of so small a diameter should be able to
support such an immense mass of roof. The principal
altar, which occupies the half circle, was once of silver,
and richly carved; but the devastating wars, which
have nearly rnined the conntry, have not spared the
shrines of religion. All that could conveniently be
removed, has been either carried off by the rapacity of
the military, or been buried in the earth for a chance of
safety. Enough, however, remains to give some idea
of the form of this altar. It was triangular, rising from
the floor to the roof in a succession of steps, which on
the great festivals of the church were crowded with
silver candlesticks, bearing wax candles, and decorated
with flowers, &c. ‘The table itself is covered with white
or crimsou satin, according to the ceremonies to be per-
formed, embroidered with gold in the mast costly man-
ner. We have heen informed by the monks of the
collegiate church of Estremoz, in Portugal, that the
embroidery of the front alone of the great altar cost
them 3000/., and the other decorations are proportion-
3Q
482
ately expensive. The robes also of the ofhciating priest
are embroidered in tlie most profuse manner, and are
made of a silk of extraordinary thickness.
Behind. this church, the street leading to the Espla-
nade is occtipied by a market for all ‘descriptions of
ooods. As in all fortified towns, the streets of Barce-
loua are narrow and confined ; the height of the houses
on either side obstructing the light, gives them rather
a gloomy appearance ; “the shonss “likewise, have a
sombre look; the goods are not exposed in windows
whose immense squares of glass cost as much as the
stock within, neither do we find them “selling off at
immense sacrifices,” as in London; but a well- assorted
display, particularly of jewellery, is exposed on each side
of the door-way in neat frames with glass doors. ‘The
street leading from Santa Maria to the cathedral is
occupied nearly entirely by jewellers and gold-workers ;
and a neat device is painted over each door, to invite
an inspection of the goods within. Before arriving at
the cathedral, however, we come to the convent of Santa
Clara, iu which there is little remarkable but the beau-
tiful tower, formed of a succession of arched galleries
one above the other to the top; and tle view of the
city, the harbour, aud the sea, as seen from them, is
truly charming. The convent is connected with the
cathedral by flying buttresses. One of these was hollow,
and contained a concealed communication with the
church, which has since been filled up. In one of the
rooms the large crucifix taken from the now-destroyed
buildings of the Inquisition is preserved. -The figure
is as laree as life, and painted to imitate nature; the
countenance is expressive of the character of the tri-
bunal in which it stood, and resembles more the fea-
tures of one of those severe judges who presided at
the council, than the meekness of the great founder of
Christianity. A few heaps of rubbish are all that
are preserved of that once-dreaded institution. ‘The
forms of the cells are still visible. They are long
and narrow in their proportions, being about eight
feet lone by about four broad. ‘The door is ex-
tremely narrow, so much so as to admit a person, not
absolutely with difficulty, but without any room to
spare; and I could discover no trace whatever of win-
dows or holes to admit air and light. ‘The roofs are
broken down, so that it is impossible to say whliether
there was or was not some method of ventilation; it
may be presumed, however, that there was none, for the
hall of the inquisitors being immediately above these
dungeons, and level with the street, it is not likely that
they. would have their deliberations disturbed by the
cries or groans of their victims, which must have
ascended “with awful distinctness had any ventilator
been constructed in the roof.
But let us turn from this unpleasing subject to the
cathedral. This fine pile of building is still unfinished,
the front is a mere plain wall, with arches painted over
the door and windows. Near the eastern end are two
beautiful towers richly ornamented. The figure of this
church is the same as that of Santa Maria del Mar, but
it possesses more external ornament; the buttresses
are exceedingly graceful and ornamental, and the spaces
between are occupied by arched windows of the pointed
kind. The cloisters also are exceedingly beautiful, and
contain a fine fountain. The’ interior is remarkably
erand, the massive roof is supported on fluted columns
of a great height which divide the church into a nave
ald two aisles; the choir is in the nave and formed
of mahogany beautifully carved, and some beautiful
bas-reliefs of the sufferings of the martyrs in white
marble,-let into the wood work, give it a peculiar and
striking appearance. The grand altar is plain but
elevant, and the organ extremely fine. This church is
completely surrounded by chapels or shrines of the dif-
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
‘the want of warmth;
[Decempgr 16,
ferent saints, which vie with each other in the splendour
and eaudiness of their ornaments. ‘There are one or
two sood altar-pieces in this church, though, from the
extreme gloominess, all the windows being darkened,
they are not seen to advantage.
The bishop’s palace joins the cathedral, and was
formerly connected by a gate, the towers of which only
remain. In several of the streets the remains of the
Roman walls may be traced, though too few and iso-
lated to enable one to determine the exact size of the
ancient city, or even the form. These ruins can only
be discovered by a close inspection, being for the most
part covered by or built into the walls of the modern
houses. ‘The private houses of Barcelona are constructed
on the same plan as in Scotland—that is, in flats or
floors, each floor forming a distinct residence; a common
staircase leading up to these different tenements. _ The
rooms are cenerally large and lofty, and totally devoid
of those comforts which make an Enelishman’s home
his pride. The handsomely-painted roofs cannot supply
the windows, the doors, and in
deed every part, admit the wind, not in gentle streams,
but in chilling blasts. In summer, when the excessive
heat renders Foie coolness desirable, the houses are not
unpleasant; but in winter, when the mornings and
evenings, and even the days, are extremely cold, a little
more attention to the fitting of joints would be desi
rable, particularly as they have no coal to create a suffi-
cient artificial heat. The country towns are worse in
this respect than the large cities, as, except in the houses
of the wealthy, glass is not used. The windows are
supplied with clumsy wooden shutters, with a smaller
one in the centre, so that the light shall not be com-
pletely excluded when the window is closed; charcoal
and wood are the only fuel; the former is burned in a
brass basin inserted into a large wooden frame, and
elevated about a foot from the floor, which is invariably
of tiles. The inhabitants sit round these warming-
pans, or brazieras, as they are called, with their feet on
the wooden frame. The gas arising from the charcoal
is extremely injurious, and causes ‘violent pains in the
head and difficulty of respiration ; so that, to enjoy this
comfort without danger, the door at least must be
opened. As I have before remarked of Portugal, the
houses are built for the most part on the old Moorish
plan, with flat roofs, or verandas, as they are called.
The outsides are also finely ornamented with paintings in
fresco, or figures executed in the plaster with which they
are faced. ‘The effect of this latter mode is pleasing
in the extreme; the ground-work is wrought with
rouch-cast, and the figures laid on smoothly, being
outlined with lines, and shaded in the same manner.
The entrances to Barcelona are extremely fine; the
roads are good, and shaded by fine trees, with foun-
tains occurring occasionally. The fondness of the
Spaniards for fountains is doubtless a relic of Moorish
manners, and these erections are often dedicated to
some saint, whose image is affixed in a niche, before
which, when Near a town, a lamp is kept burning at
niaht.
‘Besides the buildings we have mentioned there are
several others worthy of note, one of which is the hos-
pital. There are two hospitals for sick in Barcelona,
one is entirely devoted to military patients, the other to
all persons born in the city. Foundlings, as at Belem
in Portugal, are also received and educated; and the
females when of age are paraded through the streets
once a year, when any person taking a fancy to one of |
them, throws a handkerchief to her, which she pre-
serves till the owner calls at the hospital. Here he
has to produce certificates of his respectability «nd
ability to support a wife, when the bride is produced,
the dowry paid, and the happy ee married” on the ©
7;
4
1837.]
spot. No disgrace whatever is attached to marriages
of this kind; on the contrary, the nobles, proud as they
are deemed, frequently condescend thus to select a
partner for life. Besides the establishment for found-
lings the hospital contains every convenience for the
sick, an asylum for lunatics, and a daily: allowance of
provisions for the poor. This immense establishment
is entirely supported by voluntary donations.
INTELLECTUAL TASTES IN ARTISANS.
{From a Correspondent. ]
Tue labourers in the great cause of popular enlighten-
ment have been steadily pursuing their course for some
years. Their object is not indeed one to be suddenly
gained; but of the seed sown it is reasonable to look
for some fruits arising as time passes on. ‘The follow-
ing instances of intellectual tastes and pursuits in
artisans will, it is hoped, be acceptable to those who
rejoice to recognise in all, without regard to station in
the world, the possession and the use of understanding.
Two artisans, in working trim though on a holiday,
were intently conversing together the other day as they
walked near London Bridge. A passer-by heard from
one of them the words, ‘‘I always think of Julius
Cesar.’ Whether the reference was made to point
the moral of the vanity of ambition ;—whether Cesar’s
bridge-building achievements were coutrasted with those
of the constructor of the grand pile over which the
conversing parties had just passed ;—or whether the
view of the Greenwich railroad suggested the idea of
the Romans and their road-making ;—is immaterial to
our purpose. ‘The fact remains, that in these our days
the mechanic conversing with his friend is not confined
in his topics to his shop, his home, or his alehouse, but
thinks and speaks of Julius Cesar. :
- On acertain green-painted door, in the neighbour-
hood of Bethnal Green, was lately to be seen, written
rouchly in chalk, the following problem :—"S What sum
at the same per cent. will amount to 78&/. 8s. in two
years? No guessing—show a theorem!” Virgil’s first
known couplet (and that by no means a very -poetical
One) is said to have been posted.on the gate of An-
gustus. And here we have the enthusiasm of a young
mathematician,—delighted as all young mathematicians
are with their first introduction to arithmetical and
aleebraical problems. May he, like the poet, rise by
degrees to higher themes! We liked.the mathematical
exactness of the questioner—‘“‘ no guessing—show a
theorem!” and should certainly have been tempted to
answer the. question on the spot but for the want of |
chalk. We add a solution below*, in the hope that
thus it may catch the inquirer’s eye ; and most cor-
dially do we wish him success in the further prosecu-
tion of his subject of interest.
_A few years since, the people of Hull determined to
erect a column to the memory of their townsman, Wil-
berforce. Among. the lookers-on who were one day
witnessing the process of pile-driving for the founda-
tions, there arose a discussion as.to the utility of
such erections. One observed that they were at any
* Let x = the sum required.
li+-az \? £.%
=. Foo} = 788
4 9x? x?
=+ T00 © 10,000
im
a + 200z* + 10,0002 = 784,000;
a enbic equation, whose root is found to be 402 The readiest
solution as usual in cubic equations is by trial and error. We do
not know, however, if we are precluded from this mode by the
inquirer’s “ no. guessing:” we have at least, in the first step,
«“ shown a theorem,” from the principles of Compound Interest.
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
483
rate good for trade, as affording employment. His
neighbour suggested, not in the exact words, but to
their effect, that the reproductive employment of capital
was the best. He did not go on to discuss the utility
of sinking capital thus as an incentive to public and
social virtue: but it was a good deal to have advanced
thus far. The political economy sounded not the worse
from its coming, in homely phrase, from a man in a
fustian jacket. We hope he may be as clear-headed
and well informed on the subject of wages and com-
mercial intercourse, and his knowledge will be useful
to his neighbours as well as improving to his own mind.
These instances of the interest taken by labouring
men in intellectual pursuits have occurred within a short
time to one observer. How widely, then, is it reason-
able to suppose these tastes are spread! Nor least is
it pleasing to observe the simple and unostentatious
manner in which they are manifested. Here at least
there is nothing of the pride of knowledge and the
pedantic love of display, to which perhaps is mainly
owing the appearance of absurdity in the attempts
which are occasionally made to throw ridicule on the
propagators of knowledge by putting scientific lan-
guage into the mouths of the people. Hear them talk
in their own plain and expressive way of subjects which
you are used to see treated only in the language of
books, and ridicule is the last idea which will arise in
your mind. Knowledge, evidently digested, and fairly
applied, commands respect in all stations. And whether
it appear among our labouring brethren in the shape
of History, Mathematics, or Political Economy, in all
shapes, at all times, be it welcome! May all manifesta-
tions of it encourage those to whose exertions it is In
any measure to be attributed to new and greater la-
bours in so high and holy a cause! These are hardly
the beginnings; the end—who shall imagine ?
Illustration of the Solar System.—If we suppose the
earth to be represented by a globe a foot in diameter, the
distance of the sun from the earth will be about two miles:
the diameter of the sun, on the same supposition, will be
something above one hundred feet, and consequently hxs
bulk such as might be made up of two hemispheres, each
about the size of the dome of St. Paul's. The moon will be
thirty feet from us, and her diameter three inches, about
that of a cricket-ball. Thus the sun would much more than
occupy all the space within the moon’s orbit. On the same
scale, Jupiter would be. above ten miles from the sun, and
Uranus forty. We see then how thinly scattered through :
space are the heavenly bodies. The fixed stars would be at
an unknown distance; but, probably, if all distances weee
thus diminished,.no star would be nearer to such a one-foot
earth than the moon now is tous. On such a terrestrial
elobe the highest mountains would be about 1-80th of an
inch high, and consequently only just distinguishable. We
may imagine, therefore, how imperceptible would be the
largest animals. The whole organised covering of such a
globe would be quite undiscoverable by the eye, except per-
haps ‘by colour, like the bloom on a plum. In order to
restore this earth and its inhabitants to their true dimen-
sions, we must magnify them forty millions of times ; and
to preserve the proportions we must increase equally the
distances of the sun and of the stars from us. They seem
thus to pass off into infinity ; yet each of them thus removed
has its system of mechanical and perhaps of organic pro-
cesses going on upon its surface. But the arrangements of
organic life which we can see with the naked eye are few
compared with those the microscope detects. We know
that we may magnify objects thousands of times, and still
discover fresh complexities of structure ; if. we suppose,
therefore, that we increase every particle of matter in our
universe in sueh a proportion, in length, breadth, and thick-
ness, we may conceive that we tend thus to bring before our
apprehension a true estimate of the quantity of organised
adaptations which are ready to testify the extent of the
Creator's power.— Whewell’s Bridgewater Treaivse.
3Q 2
484
A LOOKING-GLASS FOR: LONDON.—No, XXVIILi . |.
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Formerity, when the number of theatres in London
was more limited than at present, there were many of’
those suburban places of amusement, of which Vaux-
hall,Gardens and White Conduit House are the: most
conspicuous remaining. ‘The virtues of mineral wells,
or spas, as they were termed, were in high repute
during the last century; and when one was discovered
in the neighbourhood of London, it was sure to be en-
closed, and the public were tempted to visit the place
by the attractions of music, amusements, and company.
Dr. Johnson was a visitor of Ranelagh Gardens, once
avery fashionable place of resort. Islington Spa, or
New ‘Tunbridge Wells, was formerly visited by crowds,
not for the water but the dancing—the well-still exists,
little known even to the residents in its neighbourhood.
The proprietor of Lambeth Wells, anxious to attract
popular favour, advertised, at one time, a “ grinning
match ;” the successfnl competitor in the art of making
hideous faces was rewarded with a gold-laced. hat.
Mary-le-bone Gardens, which were situated about. the
north end of Harley Street, drew crowds to its burlettas,
illuminafions, burning mountains, and representations.
of the Boulevards of Paris. At one time the proprietors
announced a splendid Fete Champétre, and not having
adorned the place to the satisfaction of the audience,
the latter determined to have their money’s worth of
amusement, and set to work to demolish stage, bowers,
Jamps, ornaments, and all. At the first opening of
Vauxhall Gardens in 1732, there were an hundred
armed soldiers to preserve the peace.
The taste for this kind of amusement is greatly on
the decline. .Vauxhall Gardens are still very well
frequented—but the illuminated walks are no longer
thronged by the noble and fashionable. The repeated
ascents of the ‘* monster” balloon have been a new
source of attraction, but even that has been losing: its
novelty, for latterly the gardens were but indifferently
attended on the days when the balloon was announced
i]
THE PENNY MAGAZINE. ,
AMUSEMENTS AND EXHIBITIONS.
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to ascend. White Conduit House, was never, like
Vauxhall, a ‘‘ fashionable” resort; but from a’com-
paratively early period was a favourite with the middle
and working classes. |. Jt is both a summer and winter
house ; in summer the gardens are laid out and attended,
much in the same way as.those of Wauxhall, but not so
brilliantly. The walks are lighted with coloured lamps ;
stages are erected, on which pantomimes and concerts
are performed; and the evening's amusements usually
conclude with the ascent of a person on a tight-rope,
amid a shower of fire-works.
hall, there are complaints of a great falling off in the
numbers that used to attend.’ In winter the gardens
are closed; but the house, which is large and spacions,
[December 16,
ed
j
Here also, as at Vaux- |
is open for concert performances, and is not unfre-
quently used for pnblic dinners and meetings.
There are a considerable number of taverns in Lon-
don which have music-rooms connected with them,
where concerts are performed. ‘The chief attraction‘in
these concerts are the comic sone, as they are called;
and here .we may remark that there is yet room for
considerable improvement in the taste of a large por-
tion of the working ‘people of London. »He must bea
miserable cynic who begrudges them. some amusement
after their day’s toil. But many of those comic songs,
the singing of which sometimes convulses an audience
with laughter, are the most contemptibly-ridiculous
compositions that can well be imagined. There is
neither humour nor meaning in them, their chief point
usually lying in a monstrous absurdity destitute of
fancy, or a coarse allusion as destitute of wit.
Within these twelve years past changes, as pleasant
to contemplate as they are extraordinary, have taken
place in the nature of some of the amusements pro-
4
?
vided for the people of London. Twelve years ago there .
stood in the Strand a clumsy awkward building—Exeter _
‘Change, the lower part of which was a kind of bazaar, —
the upper a menagerie. This menagerie, and the one a
a % A - g
1837.]
in the Tower—both of them very unsuitable reposi-
tories,—were all’of which the citizens of London could
boast as living studies of natural history, at a time
when the Jardin des Plantes of Paris, under the super-
intendence of Cuvier’s master-mind, constituted at once
an amusement and a fund of instruction to a vast po-
pulation. We are fast wiping away the reproach. On
the north and south of London are two zoological
gardens.
Lhe zoological gardens in the Regent’s Park, for
picturesque beauty, far surpass the Jardin des Plantes
of Paris. They lie on the north-west extremity of
London, and in its finest suburban qnarter. , The
gardens are extensive, and their own attractions are
heightened by the neighbouring amphitheatre of the
Highgate and Hampstead hills. ‘* As we walk along
the terrace,’ says an article in the ‘Quarterly Review,’
“commanding one of the finest suburban views to be.
, e
anywhere seen, let us pause for a moment while ‘ the
sweet.south’ is wafted over the flowery bank musical
with bees, whose hum is mingled with the distant roar:
of the ereat city. Look at the richness and beauty of
the scene. We do not set ourselves up as apologists of
Nash, who had his faults; but let his enemies—ay,
and his friends too, for there are many that worshipped
him when living who do not spare his memory now
that he is laid in the narrow house—say what they will,
if Nash had never done anything beyond laying out
St. James’s Park and the picturesque ground before
us, he would, in our opinion, have atoned for a multi-
tude of sins.”
The engraving at the head of this article will give
the reader who has not seen the gardens an idea of the
manner in which a small portion is laid out. The hnt
was formerly called the Llama hut, but is now appro-
priated to the camels; the cages, behind which the
bear is seen on its pole, are devoted to carnivora®. . A
part of the wardens is separated from the main portion
by the road which runs round the Regent’s Park; the
communication is maintained by a tunnel, which is
itself an ornamental object.
The last annual report of the Zoological Society
stated that the number of fellows and fellows elect was
then 3050, and the number of candidates 43; the
corresponding members amounted to Ill, and the
foreizn members 24. ‘‘ The total income of the year
1836 amounted to 19,123/. 14s. 10d., being greater
than that of any previous year by the sum of 1560/, 18s.,
and it exceeded that of 1835 by the sum of 3090/. 12s.
ld. ‘The gardens,’ continues the Report, “during
the past year, have proved unusually attractive to the
members and to the public. ‘The visitors to that
establishment have amounted to 263,392; of which
number 64,102 consisted of members and their com-
panions; 10,028 were admitted by means of named
ivory tickets ; and 189,262 on the orders of fellows on
the payment of ls. each: these last receipts amount
to 94631. 2s., being asum of 2119/. 16s. beyond that
received in the previous year.”
The total number of species which have been exhi-
bited in the menagerie, up to the present time, amounts
to 236 quadrupeds and 318 birds; and the entire col-
lection in the menagerie (exclusive of the water-fow! on
the lake in the interior of the Regent’s Park) now con-
sists of 307 quadrupeds, 704 birds, and 14 reptiles.
A well has been sunk and a steam-engine erected in
* The bear on his pole in our engraving suggests the following.
On visiting the Jardin des Plantes, a group of Parisians were
around the bear-pit, and one of them was using his ntmost endea-
vours to induce a bear to ascend the pole; but to his coaxing,
and repeated ‘* montez Ja! montez la!” the bear only turned up
a sluggish-looking eye. An Englishman inquired why Bruin
would not mount. “ Oh, why should he,” replied another, “ do
you think the bear understands French ?””, )
THE PENNY MAGAZINE,
488
the gardens, at.acost ofabout 20002, Thesteam-engine
is worked on an average about eight hours daily; and
the average daily supply of water is 180 tons.
‘“‘ In the annual report of April, 1836, it was stated
that the council had taken on lease, terminable at va-
rious short intervals, extensive premises in Leicester
Square,* which appeared in most points of view well
adapted to the present purposes of the society as a
| museum. . Since that period the whole of the interior
has been fitted up either for exhibition or for the use of
the meetings or officers of the society. The walls of the
musenm have been furnished with glazed cases, in
which the extensive preserved collection of vertebrate
animals is arranged and exhibited, and the anniversary:
meeting has been directed to be held in this place, that.
the members of the society present might be able to
judge for themselves of the state of their collection and
the labours of the museum committee. :
“The number of specimens of quadrupeds now exhi-
870 ..:
bited in the museum amounts to in tal os
Of this number upwards of 200 were not ex-
hibited in the former museum.
The number of birds . «© «6 «© « « «+ «+ 4800
1250 not in the’ former museum. i
Um... em oe.
Fishes ; § re) e e e e @) ' @ e ” e 600
Total of vertebrate animals -. . ;
6720
“The number of visitors to the museum in 1836 (ex-.
elusive of the months of April, May, and June, dnring
which the removal from Bruton Street to Leicester
Square took place,) was 3660, and the sum received for
admission was 382. 17s.” , .
The Surrey Zoological Gardens, as the name indi-
cates, lie on the south side of the river Thames, about.
a nile and a half from Blackfriars Bridge. The pro-
prictor of Exeter ‘Change collection removed his mena-
merie to these gardens in 1831, having, for a short
time, occupied the King’s Mews at Charing Cross, the.
site of which is now covered by the National Gallery.
The Surrey Gardens cover a space of about fifteen’
acres, and are laid ont in a manner which reflects great
credit on the proprietor. The principal building is a
wlazed circular erection, 300 feet in diameter, devoted
to beasts, birds, and plants. The carnivora thrive
better in the Surrey Gardens than in those of the
Regent’s Park; the ‘ Quarterly Review’ hints that the
“ London clay” is probably the cause, the Regent's.
Park gardens, though verdant and blooming in spring
and summer, being damp in winter. But this very
building of which we are speaking, in the Surrey gar-
dens, is as likely as anything to be a prime cause of
the animals being kept in better health; and it has.
also the advantage of enabling visitors to survey the
animals with comfort at any period of the year, It
seems that the terms on which the ground of the
Regent’s Park gardens are held of the crown forbid
the erection of such buildings as that in the Surrey
eardens.
Besides the attraction of the menagerie, the Surrey
eardens have frequently floral exhibitions, balloon as-
cents, imitations of an eruption of Mount Vesuvius,
&c., to draw visitors in the summer months. Speaking
oenerall y—for numbers of all classes visit both sets of
eardens,—the Regent’s Park gardens are more fre-
quented by what are called fashionable people than
those of the Surrey.
The British Museum and the National Gallery hove
been described at some length in the ‘ Penny Maga-
* < The council have secured the spacious premises in Leicester
Square which once held the museum | of the celebrated | John
Tlunter ; and they have done well. It is classical ground.” See
‘Quarterly Review’ for June, 1835,
486
gine,’ We may take. the opportunity’ of méntioning
that A new siiité of rooms have been ‘thrown open in
the British Museum ; and here the visiotr may pause
over the embalmed bodies, and read the actual names
of priests, incense-bearers, porters, servants, &c., who
flourished |
“ 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*.”
The Royal’ Academy “now occupies its share of the
building at, Charing Cross, named the National’ Gal-
lery, a and here its” “last ‘annual exhibition was held:
This exhibition commences in May, and is always very
attractive: one shilling is charged for admission.
Pall Mall and its neiehbourhood is a chief place for
pictorial exhibitions. The British Institution is in Pall
Mall; and societies and individuals have, generally in
the spring of the year, exhibitions of pictures; —
ramas; &c. &e. :
We have only space to mention two or thfes per-.
manent exhibitions—to attempt an enumeration of the
many which solicit the patronage of the curious, and of
all who have time and money to spare, in such a place
as London, wonld be.unsatistactory., The Society, for
the Encouragement of Arts have their collection in the
Adelphi, the Gallery of Practical Science is in the
Strand, and the Colosseum and the Diorama are In
the Regent’ s Park. The Colosseum is a building of
great size, erected in imitation of the Pantheon at
Rome; it contains a variety of exhibitions, one of which
is the well-known panorama of London, pone on
40,000 feet of canvas.
‘While on the subject of exhibitions, we may express
our satisfaction that public opinion is exerting itself,
and that it. will, ere long, open the doors of West-
minster Abbey, and ‘other public and national places,
hitherto only to be inspected by the payment of fees.
The facility of communication in our day 1s enabling
chousands to pay a visit to London, who otherwise
might never have seen the “great metropolis.” Its
streets “are no longer poetically “paved with gold :”
but who knows how many illusions are cured by a visit,
or how much a habit of right thinking is aided in the
country by the numbers who can tell their companions
of what they have seen in London? Why, therefore,
(keeping out of sight the inhabitants of the metropolis)
should the limited finances of people from the country
be drawn upon for fees to see national edifices or na-
tional collections, when all they have to spare should
be given to. visit those valuable institutions which
depend on voluntary contributions? . Aud who will ven-
tiire to say, that a love of science or art is not diffused
by the British Museum, the National Gallery, or the
Zoological Gardens, when we see similar’ institutions |
arising in provincial towns?
) REASONING INA DOG.
[From a Correspondent. ]
NeEprunr, a fine Newfoundland dog, pts a favourite
playfellow with my _ schoolfellows ‘and myself. He
seemed glad whenever he conld find the opportunity of
appearing in the playground, and his presence was
always welcome to us. He was particularly pleased
with the heop, when it came into use in the fine cold
days of aulumn; and would never tire of running bark-
ing after it, as dogs are fond of doing after “coach-
wheels. It was a pretty sight when he took up a hoop
himself in his mouth, holding it by the lower edge; the
upper vart encircling his head, and rising far above him,
* ¢ Penny Magazine, vol. ii., p. 48.
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
[Decemaue 16,
has he marched’ slowly along, apparently as proud of his
ornament as a savage belle of her huge nose-ring. But
winter was his erand season of enjoyment, wher the
snow on the ground made England no bad substitute
for his native Newfoundland. Not to mention his
natural expressions of delight by rolling over and over
on the cold carpet, he furnished us with a never-tiring
mark for our snow-balls. Our snow-balling matches
were at once suspended when he appeared: ‘there was
no need of calling sides, for Neptune would stand against
the whole schoul. Pelt him as hard as we pleased, he
would never lose his‘ temper, but stand, barking at
every ball, trying to catch in his mouth each as it came,
and jumping to one side and the other to humour the
stragglers, apparently unwilling to let any slip. Thus
would he go on day after day, well knowing our times
of play, and very frequent in his attendance to share ~
our sports. At last, however, one year, the Christmas
holidays came on; the sports were interrupted or trans-
ferred elsewhere,—and Neptune had had no notice.
He came as usual; but the playground-door was closed,
and none of his playfellows were to be seen. After
Waiting for some time in vain, he found other people
going to the front door of the house; and as he could
not gain entrance by his usual way, he too would try
the other. ‘There he posted himself; and whenever the
door was opened, wag¢ed his tail, and solicited admis-
sion,—but in vain; for though he was a favourite with
the servant as well as others, ske was frightened at the
thong ht of four great unwiped feet passing through the
clean hall. Neptune was repulsed, but not discouraged.
A single knock called the servant again: she found
nobody but Neptune ; and supposed some kind person
passing by had knocked for him. Another single knock
—still, nobody but Neptune. Again !—and now the case
seemed singular ; and the servant, looking into it more
closely, traced on the door the wet marks of Neptune's
feet, reaching up to the knocker. Who shall say that
a dog cannot reason? The trying a door which he had
never been accustomed to, seems more than instinet.
And the knocking at that door implies something very
like a syllogism. ‘‘ People who want to go in here,
knock at the door, and are let in—I want to go in—I
will knock, and shall be let in.’ But Pocr Neptune
was not let in. The servant brought me to hear the
tale, and see the foot-marks on the door: but Neptune
was gone—his patience quite exhausted (few people
knock ‘more than three times), or he should have come
in and had his snow-balling match, despite of his great
wet feet and the clean hall. Poor Neptune! he was a
oood, honest, fine-spirited playfellow! aud now, long
as it is since we played together, I think of him;—not
so much in the character ofa dog as in that of a
Tare a
ADVENTURE AMONG THE INDIANS. OF
| GUIANA.
THE mes of a recent traveller in South America,
Mons. Adam de Bauve, affords a very unfavourable
view of the moral and physical condition of the natives
of the northern portion of that continent; and from
the knowledge of their character, acquired by that gen-
tleman during a long residence among these uncivilized
people, we are induced to fear that his account is but
too correct. In the adventure we are about to relate,
he alludes particularly to the Autas, a tribe residing on
the banks of the Cuouva, in French Guiana; but he
states, at the same time, that they differ but little from
the other tribes who inhabit the extensive forests of that
part of the globe. His reflections are possibly some-
what coloured by the discomforts attending his position
at the tiie he wrote, when he was detained in one of
1837.]
their miserable huts, by a sprain which he received
during a scientific excursion :—‘‘ I passed my time,”
he says, “either in reading, or in trying to fix my
thoughts upon anything but what was round me, that
I might not hear the idiot laughter of my stupid hosts,
who lay lazily in their hammocks, keeping their eyes
constantly fixed upon me, and at every movement I
made, bursting into a harsh husky laugh, which shook
their huts in a way to make me afraid they would fall
to the ground.”
He describes these people as lazy and improvident
to the last degree: and although surrounded by a
fertile country, which almost spontaneously produces
more than they can consume, yet living upon a diet
compared to which the food of the poorest peasant in
France is luxury, and starving in the midst of plenty.
‘The average of their existence is, he says, three days
abundance, and a fortnight starvation. ‘Their huts are
sometimes’so filled with bananas, that the ereater por-
tion of them rot before they can be consumed, and then
for a long time they have hardly anything to eat. They
have also little desire to mend their condition; it is
trne that they show the eagerness of-children to possess
any new object that is shown to them, but as soon as
the novelty is out of sight it is forgotten, and even when
obtained, soon thrown away.
One day, during the time when Mons. de Bauve was
detained among the Attas by the sprained ancle, he
saw a2 woman in the most pitiable state of destitution :
this nnfortnnate creature, it appeared, had given a mortal
offence to her husband by preventing him from destroy-
ing another individual of the same tribe, against whom
he had conceived some offence. He endeavoured to
poison him, but the compassionate woman informed
the intended victim, who immediately went and be-
trayed her to her husband. ‘This is a fair sample, our
author states, of the gratitude of the Indians. The
consequence was, that the poor creature was treated
with great cruelty by her husband, and compelled to
fly. For a month she wandered about, with no food
but the wild berries of the woods; she slept at night,
for fear of wild beasts, upon the lofty stages which
these people erect for the purpose of drying fish: no
one dared to give her shelter, from the fear of incurring
the displeasure of her husband, whose revengeful dis-
position was well known. In a frightful state of ema-
ciation she came to seek from the white man the pro-
tection which, in his solitary condition, he was unable
to extend to her. The woman was put to death by her
husband. ,
The next day about 120 individuals of the tribe met
about the hut in which the fraveller lay, for the purpose
of keeping a festival. Al! day they slept, but towards
evening they began to dance fo the sound of their rude
instruments, and thus passed the night, drinking plen-
tifully in the intervals of the dance. By the next morn-
ine the whole number were intoxicated; some lying
sick on the floor, others groaning,-—others howling.
Some of them eyed the bageage of ‘Mons. de Bauve,
with the desire of appropriating it to themselves; and
at length, the fellow who had murdered his wife, being
the boldest of the tribe, made an attempt, with two
others, to possess himself of it. ‘‘ Two guns,” con-
tinues the traveller, “ were hanging above my head,
but I was so surrounded that it was impossible to make
use of them or of my sabre. Orapoi (a native servant
who had lived some years with Mons. de Bauve) lay
trembling in his hammock, and advised me not to resist.
I raised myself in my hammock, presented a sinall
pistol, and called out to the Indians with a loud voice,
accompanied by significant gestures, that I would kill
them if they did not keep off. The two retired, but
oO
cords of one of my bundles with a knife,
the first mover, who was named Huaracriou, cut the
I fired directly
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
|
487
at him, but the persons round me shook my hammock
so violently in running away, that I missed him. ° ‘All
the party gave way instantly except Huaracriou, who
rushed upon me and wounded me slightly in the breast
with his dagger. Reserving my remaining pistol, I
seized my dagger, and gave him two wounds, one in
the side, the other in the throat. He fell: I was struck
with horror at the cry, or rather infernal howl, which
the Indians set up. I thought myselflost; and seizing
one of my guns, resolved not to die without revenge:
Having my guns, a pistol, dagger, and: sabre, many
would have fallen before me. In an instant the place
was deserted, but the horrid howlmg continued. After
an interval of an hour, two old men came back and
asked Orapoi, who had al! this time been covered up in
his hammock, if I’wished to’ kill them. « I replied that
I had never done the Indians any harm, but that I
would defend myself if they attacked me, and would
kill any one who should attempt to rob'me. Upon
this they began to whistle, and all the party returned.
They now wished me to kill Huaracriou, who was lying
on the ground, losing ‘blood. I refused, but helped
him to get up, and:dressed his wounds. -'That in the
throat was most dangerons: I do not think he will die,
though it would be better that he should, for he will be
an eternal enemy, not only to me but to all white men.
The Indians resumed their drinking as though nothing
had happened; and although Orapoi' advised me to
leave the tribe, I resolved to remain, as I’was persnaded
that an appearance of confidence would act’ powerfully
not only on them, but on other tribes whom I should
visit subsequently. In fact, if I had yielded to their
demands, and given them the least thing, I’ should
decidedly have been robbed, and if not killed on the
spot, most probably been made away ‘with afterwards,
for fear of returning at a future time to be revenged.”’’
When the drinking was all over, the wounded man
was carried off, and Mons. de Bauve heard no more of
him; but he had reason to suppose that his comrades
would take advantage of his state of weakness to poison
his wounds, so that they might no longer be annoyed
by him. ,
THE GOLDEN-CRESTED WREN.
Tue golden-crested wren is the smallest:and one of the
most beautiful and interesting of British birds. Though ~
it abounds in most places, its active, restless habits, and
the silence of its movements, render it rather difficult
to watch; and it is probably less noticed than any other
common bird we possess. :
The most usual haunts of the golden-crested wren
are tall trees, particularly the oak, the yew, and the
various species of pine and fir. In these it builds its
nest,.a very neat and elegant structure, the shape of
which varies according to the situation in which it is
placed. It is most commonly open at the top, like that
of the chaffinch; but sometimes, even under the. shel-
tering boughs of a Norway fir, it is covered with a
dome, and has an. opening on one side. It is always
ingeniously suspended beneath the branch, like those of
many tropical birds, being the only instance of the kind
amongst those of Great Britain. ‘The eggs are nine or
ten in number, and are small, round, and white.
The golden-crested wren is by no means so shy of
the neighbourhood of man as is generally supposed.
Though it abounds in forests, yet it equally frequents
oardens, occasionally even in the suburbs of large towns,
and very often builds close to the house, most com-
monly in a yew or fir, at the height of from five to
twenty-or thirty feet from the ground. It will visit the
plants trained round windows; and has been known,
when pursued by a hawk, to fly for refuge into’a-room
where people were sitting, and alight on the top of the
488 THE PENNY MAGAZINE. [Decemner 16, 183%.
bell-rope, whence it suffered itself to be taken by the | “Prisons of ‘Constantinople.—Old travellers give very
hand *, It is very fearless of observers ; and will allow frightful accounts of the slave-prisons of Constantinople.
you to approach within a yard of it, while engaged, as hose who now inspect them are obliged to believe either
: ; sre, that these travellers. indulged in a little exagveration in
e ss r e e 4 l . 4 : ‘ oS a oo a
it generally is, in hunting for insects on the stems a id their descriptions, or that the Turkish government has since
branches of trees. Perhaps the best time’for watching greatly relaxed its severities. The visitor enters a court
it is a hot sunny day in summer or autumn. * In a still | surounded by ill-built sheds, and sees the prisoners ex-
and sultry noon, when not a leaf is stirring, and almost | tended here and there, many of them chained together in
every other bird has retired from the heat of the sun | twos, while others are exempt from this restraint. The
into the shadiest thickets, the little solitary golden- | building of the prison itself has nothing remarkable. It is
crested wren is to be seen flitting noiselessly from spray entered by a sort of dark corridor; the ground floor is occu-
¢ ie. Wie € pied by the rayahs, and the first story by the Turks. Each
to spray, with unwearied activity, in search of its en of the tributary, nations sends to the prison those who have
paying no.altensondoany one, who hap BPRS Zo be watch- been condemned according to their own peculiar laws, and
ing it, and never for a moment remaining in a state of by their own chiefs.. The prisoners lie upon coarse mats;
rest. Its movements are unlike those of any other bird, | they are furnished with no other movable than a vase full
except, indeed, the blue-tit,—but even his do not equal j of water; and for their subsistence they are supplied daily
in lightness and airiness this little wren. It flutters | with three small cakes of half a pound weight, and ten paras
over the slenderest twig's like a butterfly,—now on one | 11 i Fg charity does the rest; the most miserable
side, now on the other,—sometimes above the branch, | Tecelve the assistance of their co-religionists. The guards
: , : : , | are very vigilant; and the captives are watched in their
xing e head downwards ce lM
sometimes beneath, hang Ins with th Pe labours, in their sickness, and even when:‘they are dead, for
—often at the end of it, suspended in the: air by
re” ‘tee Lee ‘ | : fear they should escape under the sad disguise of a corpse.
its tiny wings, which it quivers without the slightest | The prison of the Seraskier has no bolts, no strong gates,
sound,—so that unless you see it,.if it were ever SO | no guards; and the jailer is not at all distinguished by his
close to you, you would not be aware of its presence | costume. Two halls, which communicate, constitute this
except for the little low chirp which it occasionally | prison, which receives light through an opening in the top
emits, and which is more like that of an insect than a of the vault. The number of prisoners is eleven in the hall
Paces ete shape and plumage, too, ie ae superior to of the Turks, and six in thatofthe-Rayahs. Another prison
Mmostuoktheateathetadiinzebittots Wk our woods ad is called the Prison of the Porte. ':It is situated near the en-
q he | te ivi hae Peep cet trance of the palace of the Grand-Vizier. Passing through
gardens; the latter is a beautiful mixture of gre a narrow court, guarded by many soldiers, one arrives at a gate
yellow, with white bars on ‘its wings; and on its head
| 4 Hea’ | over which are suspended chains similar to those upon the
the golden crest, bordered with black, from which it | hands and feet of the prisoners. The visitor, arriving at the
takes its name., ,—s-
| prison by a stair, ts first conducted to the hall of the debtors.
In the spring and summer it sings regularly, begin- | The Greeks, Armenians, Jews, and Turks have separate
ning about the middle of: March, and continuing till fonBtneey for these fuur nations are never able to live
te i OME ee
the end of July. ie song is very soft and low, like a together, and not even misfortune has power to unite them.
The chamber for vagrants is a real cavern, hollowed in the
ik : r-lark, is no .
whisper, and, like that of the grasshoppe . rock., In a hall more’ gloomy than the others, are the
louder at the distance of one yard than of twenty. prisoners placed under torture. To the vault are fixed
During the greater part of the year, it haunts tall! any iron rings, from which these miserable beings are
trees, and never alights on the earth; but in the winter | suspended until they confess their crimes, or reveal where
it is frequently seen pecking for insects in the grass, | their treasures are concealed. Another stair, still more ob-
or among dead leaves, and even on aheath at some scure than the first, conducts to’ an extensive apartinent,
little distance from any tree; and when thus engaged quite destitute of any end of furniture or movable. This
will let you approach it sufficiently near to hear the | * the che — eg gs — ae
little snap of its beak when it has found its prey. at presen | vege ey eee wus era
P ; P another room which is appropriated to the hospodars of
The golden-crested wren remains with us all the year | Wonachia and Moldavia; the gate is coated with iron.
round: whether it is a hardy bird or not is_a disputed | This prison appears to have been built in the time of the
inatter. ; ; Greeks, for it does not in the least resemble either of those
previously described. Itis nearly deserted at present; but
ANECDOTES. prisons appear everywhere in Constantinople; and each
minister, pasha, and judge lras his own, as well as his juris-
— wil diction and his guard. It is not necessary to raise thick
A TURKEY-COCK, a common cock, and a pheasant, were | wajjs for this purpose, or to construct dungeons at a great
kept in the.same/farm-yard, After some time, the turkey | expense. It, suflices if a.person entitled to have a prison
was sent away to another farm. After his departure, the | gan find in his house or in that of his neighbours, a chamber,
cock and. pheasant had a quarrel : the cock beat, and the | 4), outhouse, a court, or an inclosure. The prison of the
pheasant disappeared. Ina few days he returned, accom- | \aivode of Galata consists of large square rooms, where on
panied by the turkey: the two allies together fell on the | one side are found the prisoners for debt, and on the other
unfortunate cock ‘and killed him. oe all classes of offenders mingled without distinction. As the
A squirrel, seated in a nut-tree, was observed to weigh @ | »ooms have no windows, the air eannot circulate, and the
nut in each ‘paw, to discover by the weight which was good: | gun's rays cannot penetrate; a pale giimmer descending
the light ones he invartably dropped, till he had made a little | fom the roof just serves to show to the visitor groups of
heap. of them atthe bottom of the tree, which, being exa- | men. squatted on the ground, who appear to respire with
mined, was found to consist entirely of bad nuts. difficulty, and to be almost suffocated by the heat. The
‘ew ene Saat “a police of the vaivode are very active, and do not allow the
prison to remain a solitary place like that of the Porte.
They fail'not to make the functions which they exercise
very profitable to themselves, and all those whom they arrest
aye their tributaries. But no chains, dungeons, or instru-
ments of torture are to.be seen in the prison of the vaivode,
nor are the prisoners subject to any ill treatment. In fact,
this prison is hardly to be otherwise regarded than as a
simple dep6t.—ALichaud—Correspondent of “ L’ Oriental,”
{From a Correspondent.}
with these four parts of the Institutes, we often having oc-
casion to go into the city, and from thence into the country,
did, in some sort, envy the state of the honest ploughman
and other mechanics. For one, when he was at his work,
would merrily sing, and the ploughman whistle some self-
pleasing tune, and yet their work both proceeded and suc-
ceeded; but he that takes upon him to write, doth captivate
all the faculties and powers, both of his mind-and body, and
must be only attentive to that which he collecteth, without] ,,.,
any expression of joy or cheerfulness while he is at his ied a
work.—Str Edward Coke, :
ociety for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge ts at
59, Lincoln’s Inn Fields.
——— \LONDON: CHARLES KNIGHT & CO., 22, LUDGATE STREET.
* This fact is on the authority of a friend who can be relied om, Printed by Winttam_Ciowzs and Sons, Stamford Strecty,
THE PENNY
AGAZIN
OF THE
society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge.
PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY.
[DECEMBER 23, 1837,
SKETCHES OF THE PENINSULA.—No, XVI.
Butt Hountina.
[From a Correspondent. } ;
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[Wild Bull Hunting. }
Tins Spanish bull-fight has been often described, but
that species of bull-fight which, while it affords pastime
to the people, subdues the noble animal to be a partaker
of the labours of the husbandman is, we believe, little
or not at all known in this country. ‘The Peninsula
abounds with extensive forest lands, which, though
reaching over a wide extent of country, is sufficiently
open to afford pasture and food to herds of wild cattle
who roam alinost unmolested amongst their shades.
The great forest of the Alemtejo is an apt illustration.
In this some hundreds of square miles of country are
occupied by growing timber; but within its bounds
large open spaces exist which serve for pasturages, and
occasionally a farm, a vineyard, or an olive grove may
be seen strugeling, as it were, for existence amidst the
vast solitudes. But though occasional glimpses of
culture appear, they are far too few and far between to
offer any serious check to the increase and independ-
ence of the herds which roam around them undisturbed.
It was in this forest that I witnessed for the first time
the method of capturing the wild bulls. I had received
intimation that the village of Alcoxete, on the Tagus,
was to be the scene of a bull-fight, and that the vil-
Javers for many miles round were invited to join in the
hunt, which was to take place on the following day ;
Vou. VI.
I accordingly crossed the river in company of about
twenty persons, mostly military, each being provided
with a long pole, having a small spike fixed in one
end, and mounted as inclination or ability suited.
When we arrived on the opposite bank, a little before
day-break, we found about 250 or 300 persons assem-
bled, some mounted on different sorts of quadrupeds,
from the noble Andalusian horse to the humble hack
donkey, and very many on foot. ‘They were all armed
in a similar manner to ourselves. As soon as daylight
began to appear we all marched off towards the forest.
The morning was peculiarly fine, and the interest of
the beautiful scenery was heightened by the varied cos-
tumes of the persons by whom we were surrounded.
As soon as we had advanced some distance into the
wood we halted for the purpose of refreshment, before
the arduous and somewhat perilous duties of the day
began. After a hasty meal we divided into two par-
ties, one stretching in a long Jine to the right and the
other to the left. We had not advanced far in this
manner before we fell in with a herd of cattle having
twelve bulls with it, which no sooner descried us than
they bounded off with the speed of lightning. The
sport had now began; we put our horses to the utmost.
speed, threading our way amongst the tall pine-trees
3 R
490
as well as we could, and endeavouring by wild cries to
drive the bulls towards the other party. At length,
after about an hour’s chase, some half-dozen of us who
were better mounted than the rest came up with them,
and commenced the attack with our long poles. ‘The
manner was this: one person riding at full speed gave
the bull nearest him a sharp prick with the goad, which
it no sooner felt than it turned upon its assailant and
eave chase; another horseman then coming up attacked
it on the other side, when, leaving the first assailant, it
turned upon the second; he in like manner was rescued
by a third,-and so on. The attention of the infuriated
animal thus distracted prevented his escape, and gave
time for the other hunters to come up. The bulls
were thus at length separated from the herd. A sufh-
cient number having arrived to form a circle round
them, we commenced operations for the purpose of
driving them towards the town: all the skill of the
riders was now necessary, and all the activity possessed
by both man and norse, to keep clear from the pointed
horns which on every side were directed against him,
as well as to prevent the herd from breaking through
the living net with which it was surrounded. This was
perhaps the most difficnlt part, and was attained by
keeping each bull separately engaged, and thus pre-
venting united action; for what line was sufficient,
armed as we were, to resist the simultaneous rush of
these most powerful animals. The continued activity
and exertion requisite had knocked up many of the
poor jades who had started in the morning, and the
circle became smaller and smaller as the day advanced ;
several, too, had been carried off severely gored and
wounded by the horns and feet of the bulls. I, how-
ever, ald the party with whom I started, were resolved
to see the conclusion, and redoubling our efforts we at
length, about four o’clock in the afternoon, succeeded
in driving them into an enclosure where were a num-
ber of oxen (all at one time wild) with bells, quietly
grazing. Here they were kept till required for the
next day’s sport.
The square of Alcoxete had been fitted up in the
form of an arena, with seats or rather standing places
all round; the centre was carefully cleaned, all stones
removed, and fresh sand strewed. At one side a cart
was stationed for a purpose to be presently deseribed ;
at the other a pen was fitted up for the reception of each
bull as it was to make its appearance, communicating
by a door with the place where the herd was enclosed.
The difficulty of bringing the bulls from their tempo-
rary resting-place to the scene of their humiliation was
not less than that of their original capture. Through
the forest they had only the trees and shrubs before
them, to which they were accustomed; and if the line
of huntsmen alone was sufficient to awaken their rage
and terror amidst scenes familiar to them, how much
more must those feelings have been excited when
passing through the streets of a town crowded with
people, the houses gaily decorated with red, blue, white,
and green hangings, and greeted with a thousand
tongues in the joyfulness of expectation? ‘I'wice the
terrified and furious herd turned and dashed through
the assembled crowd, tossine and goring all who
ventured to oppose them, and twice the circling horse-
men brought them back. One fine black bull took
to the river and swam out about two miles before a
boat could be put off to recapture it. Several of the
English soldiers who were quartered near the town
swam after it, and one of them an excellent swimmer
had nearly reached it, when a fishing boat came up,
and fixing a cord round the bull’s horns towed it in.
The soldier however was resolved not to have his trouble
for nothing, and mounting on its back, was landed
safely amidst the shouts of the spectators. The sport of
baiting the bulls for the purpose of taming them, began
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
at three in the afternoon, when the heat of the sun had
somewhat abated. Six of the wild animals were usher-
ed into the circus, surrounded by a band of mounted
picadores, and accompanied by several tame cattle
with bells, when one by one they were secured with
cords to the cart, and a leathern cap placed on the
points of the horns, after which they were all driven into
the pen. The circus was then cleared, and the Spa-
niards entered, gaily attired in the Andalusian costume,
the grace and elegance of which must be seen to be
properly understood. ‘The hair, which is worn long, is
confined in a black silk bag, which is fastened with
bows of black riband: the light-coloured velvet jacket
covered with gold lace and silver gilt buttons, the
velvet vest richly einbroidered, the lace shirt, red silk
sash, velvet breeches and silk stockings; all harmo-
nizing in colour and form, set off the figure to the best
advantage and add to the grace and elegance for which
the Andalusian is so justly celebrated. These men, of
whom there were five or six, are accustomed from their
infancy to the dangerous employment of bull-fighting,
and the agility and dexterity displayed in evading the
furious attacks of the bull are astonishing. After care-
fully examining the arena they each armed themselves
with four short barbed darts, and waited for the coming
of the bull: they had not to wait long; the door was
thrown open and the animal rushed into the centre,
ereeted by the shouts and vivas of the spectators. One
of the Spaniards advancing invited the attack, when
the bull, who at first, bewildered and amazed, had stood
tearing up the earth with its feet till almost hid from
view by the cloud of dust, lashing itself into fury
with its tail, rushed upon its opponent. Ali who were
not accustomed to such spectacles thought the man
must inevitably have perished; but just as the long and
powerful horns seemed to touch his body he stepped
nimbly aside, and turning smartly round, planted all
four darts in the animal’s neck just behind the horns.
Loud shouts of applause rewarded his dexterity,
aud the bull, more enraged than ever, ran round the
area tearing up the earth and bellowing with rage,
until encountered by a second picadore with like success.
After the Span-ards had exhausted themselves in exciting
the rage of the bull, they quitted the area and the
populace were admitted to throw the bull: this was
generally done by one man leaping between the horns,
upon which he supported himself in an upright posture
till relieved by lis companions, who threw the bull to
the ground. The cry of “largo, largo” was the signal
for its liberation, when some tame cattle beine ad-
mitted it was led by them to the pen. Six bulls were
thus baited the first day, the other six on the day
following. Three weeks afterwards I had these very
animals under my charge as hag@age oxen, as tame
and gentle oxen as could be desired.
THE LEECH FISHERY.
THE country about La Brenne is, perhaps, tle most unin-
teresting in France. The people are miserable-looking, the
cattle wretched, the fish just as bad; but the leeches are
admirable.
If ever you pass through La Brenne, you will see a man,
pale and straight-haired, with a woollen cap on his head,
and lis legs and arms naked; he walks along the borders
of a marsh, among the spots left dry by the surrounding
waters, but particularly wherever the vegetation seems to
preserve the subjacent soil undisturbed: this man is aleech-
fisher. To see him from a distance,—his woe-begone aspect,
his hollow eyes, his livid lips, his singular gestures,— you
would take him for a patient who had left his sick bed in a
fit of delirium. If you observe him every now and then
raising Ins legs, and examining them gne after the other,
you might suppose him a fool; but he is an intelligent
leech-fisher, ‘The leeches attach themselves to his legs and
feet as he moves among their haunts; he feels their pre-
[ DecemMBER 23,
1937.]
about the roots of the bulrushes and sea-weeds, or beneath
the stones covered with green and gluey moss. Some
repose on the mud, while others swim about, but so slowly,
that they are easily gathered with the hand. In a favour-
able season it is possible, in the course of three or four hours,
to stow ten or twelve dozen of them in the little bag which
the gatherer carries on his shoulder. Sometimes you will
see the leech-fisher armed with a kind of spear or harpoon :
with this he deposits pieces of decayed animal matter in
places frequented by the leeches: they soon gather round
the prey; and are presently themselves gathered into a
little vessel half full of water. Such is the leech-fishery in
spring.
In summer the leech retires into deeper water; and the
fishers have then to strip themselves naked, and walk im-
mersed up to the chin. Some of them have little rafts to
go upon; these rafts are made of twigs and rushes, and it
is no easy matter to propel them among the weeds and
aquatic plants. At this season, too, the supply in the pools
is scanty; the fisher can only take the few that swim
within his reacli, or those that get entangled in the structure
of his raft.
It is a horrid trade, in whatever way it is carried on.
The leech- gatherer is constantly more or less in the water:
breathing fog and mist and fetid odours from the marsh, he
is often attacked with ague, catarrhs, and rheumatism.
Some indulge in strong liquors, to keep off the noxious in-
fluences, but they pay for it in the end by diSorders of other
kinds. But, with all its forbidding peculiarities, the leech-
fishery gives employment to many hands; if it be per-
nicious, it is also lucrative. Besides supplying all the
neighbouring pharmaciens, great quantities are exported,
and there are regular traders engaged for the purpose.
Henri Chartier is one of those persons, and an important
personage he is when he comes to Meobecq or its vicinity ;
his arrival makes quite a f€te—all are eager to greet him.
Among the interesting particulars which I gathered in
La Brenne relative to the leech trade, I may mention the
following :—One of the traders—what with his own fishing
and that of his children, and what with his acquisitions from
the carriers, who sell quantities second-hand—was enabled
to hoard up 17,500 leeches in the course of a few months;
he kept them deposited in a place where, in one night, they
all became frozen e masse. But the frost does not imme-
diately kill them; they may generally be thawed into life
again. They easily, indeed, bear very hard usage. Iam told
by one of the carriers, that he can pack them as closely as
he pleases in the moist sack which he ties behind his
saddle; and sometimes he stows his cloak and boots on the
top of the sack. The trader buys his leeches pele-mé/e, big
and little, green and black—all the same; but he after-
wards sorts them for the market. Those are generally
accoumted the best which are of a green ground, with yellow
stripes along the body.— Medical Gazette.
Sent
ROYAL BANQUETTING.
AN ancient manuscript in the British Museum (Harl.
MS. No. 279) contains the bill of fare of the banquet
viven on the marriage of King Henry IV. to his Queen
Joan of Navarre, at Winchester, in the year 1403. The
manuscript is fairly written on parchment, and is in
excellent preservation ; and in the copy of it here given
the original orthography is preserved—the explanations
between parentheses being those of Mr. Strutt, in his
* Regal Antiquities.’
Some few of the dishes are now unknown, but not-
withstanding the antiquity of the manuscript, it is quite
as intelligible as a modern bill of fare would be to an
uninitiated person.
The banquet consisted of six courses; three of flesh
and fowl, and three of fish, which were as follows:—
First Course.
Fylettes in galentyne [made of pork stewed in broth
with bread]. Gross chare [ flesh as beef or mutton].
Signettys. Capoun of haut grece | faé capons]. FFe-
sauntys. Chewetys*. A Sotelte [@ subllety or device con-
sisting of figures made with jellics and confectionary}.
* Chevrettie is the female roe deer.
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
sence from their bite, and gathers them as they cluster |
49]
Second Course.
Venison with fermente [fermenty was made of
wheat and milk]. Gelye. Porcellys*. Conynge.
Bittore [Bitterns]. Pulcyng farcez +. Pertryche [{ Par-
tridges|. Leche} fryez. Brawne bruse [doiled.] A
Sotelté.
Third Course.
Creme daimaundes [almonds pounded and done up
with mk]. Perys in syruppe [Pears in syrup].
Venison rosted. Ryde Woodecokke. Plovere. Rab-
bittys. Quaylys. Snytys [perhaps snipes]. Feldfare.
Crustade. Sturgeon. Frettoure. <A Sotelté.
First Course of Fyshe.
Vyaund ryall. Sew lumbarde. Salty Fyshe. Lam-
preys powdered. Pyke. Breme samoun rostyd.
Crustade lumbarde, [made of cream, eggs, parsley,
dates, §c., baked]. A Sotelté. >
Second Course.
Purpayes en furmente. Gely. Breme.
Congre. Gurnard. Plays [Plaice.]
past. Lechie friez.
Panteryse coronys for a Sotelté. [I fancy this is
panthers, with crowns upon their heads made of con-
fectionary, for a device or subtlety].
Third Course,
Creme of almaunds. Perys in syruppe. Tench
embrace. Trontez. Floundyrs fryid. Perchys. Lam-
prey rosted. Lochys andeolys §. Sturjoun. Crabbe
and creveys ||. Graspeys. Egle coronys [en eagle
crowned] in Sotelté.
Samoun.
Lampreys in
Plumbago and Black Lead Pencils.—There is only one
purpose to which this form of carbon is applied in the solid
state—viz., for the manufacture of black lead pencils. One
of the most remarkable circumstances connected with the
plumbago is the mode in which it is sold. Once a year the
mine at Borrowdale is opened, and a sufficient quantity
of plumbago is extracted, to supply the market during the
ensuing year. It is then closed up, and the: product is
carried in small fragments of about three and four inches
long, to London, where it is exposed to sale at the black-
lead market, which is held on the first Monday of every
month, at a public-house in Essex Street, Strand. The
buyers, who amount to about seven or eight, examine every
piece with a sharp instrument to ascertain its hardness—
those which are too soft being rejected. The individual
who has the first choice pays 45s. per pound—the other
30s. But as there is no addition made to the first quantity
in the market, during the course of the year, the residual
portions are examined over and over again, until they are
exhausted. The annual amount of sale is about 3000.
There are three kinds of pencils, common, ever-pointed,
and plummets. The latter are composed of one-third sul-
phuret of antimony and two-thirds plumbago. The first
part of the process is sawing out the cedar into long planks,
and then into what are technically called tops and bottoms.
The second, sawing out the grooves by means of a fly-
wheel. The third, scraping the lead on a stone; having
been previously made into thin slices, to suit the groove,
introducing it into the groove, and scratching the side with
a sharp-pointed instrument, so as to break it off exactly
above the groove. The fourth, glueing the tops and bot-
toms together, and turning the cedar-cases in a gauge.
The ever-pointed pencils are first cut into thin slabs, then
into square pieces, by means of a steel gauge. They are
then passed through three small holes, armed with rubies,
which last about three or four days. Steel does uot last
above as. many hours. Six of these ever-pointed pencils
may- be had for 2s. 6d. If they are cheaper than this, we
may be sure that they are adulterated.— Rec. of Gen. Sc.
* Probably little pigs. + Probably stuffed pullets.
t Leche 1s a collop. § Probably loach and coal-fish.
|| Probably craw-fish.
3K Re
492
CHE PENNY MAGAZINE.
[DECEMBER 22,
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[St. James’s Park.]
Tre parks of London lie on its western side. St.
James’s extends from behind the Horse Guards and
government offices in Whitehall and Downing Street
to the New Palace; its adjunct, the Green Park,
reaches from thence to Piccadilly and Hyde Park
Corner. The chief western entrance into the metro-
polis (the road from Bath, &c.), which runs into Picca-
dilly, separates the western extremity of the Green
Park from the south-east side of Hyde Park, at what is
termed Hyde Park Corner; and at this particular spot
the stranger, who is entering London for the first time,
will receive a favourable impression of the grandeur of
the metropolis. On either side of the road or street,
which is spacious, are handsome gateways, that on the
right leading into the Green Park, and those on the
left into Hyde Park. The central and side gateways
leading into Hyde Park are connected by a fine screen;
and the bronze gates in these and in the Green Park
gateway on the opposite side are beautiful specimens of
art.
St. James's Park is the oldest of the metropolitan
parks. It appears to have been a waste marshy piece
of ground till the reign of Henry VIII.: it was partly
drained and enclosed by him. He built a gateway in
1532 at the north end of King Street and corner of
Downing Street, over which he had a passage from
Whitehall Palace into the park. ‘The park was much
improved in the reign of Charles II., and it has been
since that time a favourite resort; but it did not assume
its present picturesque appearance till 1828, when Mr.
Nash, the designer of Regent’s Park, converted it from
being a formal and almost swampy meadow into a
beautiful and luxuriant-looking garden.
St. James’s Park received its name from being con-
nected with the palace of St. James's, which Henry
VIII. built on the site of St. James’s Hospital. Hyde
Park is so called, from the ground having formed a
chief portion of the Manor of Hyde, belonging to
Westminster Abbey. ‘This park comprises nearly 400
acres. On its western side are Kensington Gardens,
attached to the palace. Kensington Palace was pur-
chased by William III., whose queen took much pleasure
in improving the gardens. ‘They were, however, Jaid
ont in their present form by Queen Caroline, the wife
of George II. The gardens are about three miles and
a half in circumference, and contain a number of mag-
nificent trees. On fine evenings—especially Sunday
evenines—in spring and summer, they are thronged
with visitors.
Regent's Park was formed in 1814. The eround
was the property of the Crown, and was let to various
persons—but the leases having expired, the property
was converted into its present handsome and orna-
mental form, from the designs of Mr. Nash. ‘The
name, as the reader is doubtless aware, was given in
compliment to George IV., then Prince Regent. The
park is circular, and comprises about 450 acres. It
contains a sheet of water; several handsome villas have
been built in its interior; and round it is a spacious
drive, or road, the exterior side of which is occupied by
a numb-cr of fine terraces, or ranges of building, hi¢hly
ornamented, some with colonnades and pillars, and
others with allegorical groups and figures. As men-
tioned formerly, the Zoological Gardens occupy a por-
tion of the park.
St. James’s Park, the smallest of the London parks,
is certainly the prettiest. It is bounded on the east by
the parade at the back of the Horse Guards, of which
a view is given on p. 77 of the present volume; and at
its western extremity is the new palace, recently con-
verted into a royal residence by her present Majesty.
On the southern and northern sides are the Bird Cage
Walk and the Mall, the latter a fine avenue, planted
with trees. An iron railing separates the Green Park
from St. James’s. Hemmed in, as St. James’s Park is,
| by buildings on every side, the sheet of water, shrub-
-
1837.]
bery, and frees, afford in summer very fine contrasts
—a delightful landscape in the heart of a city.
In 1814, St. James’s, the Green Park, and Hyde Park
were made the scene of rejoicings and illuminations—
a grand jubilee being held in commemoration of various
events, the close of the war, the centenary of the acces-
sion of the House of Brunswick, the anniversary of the
battle of the Nile, &c. On this occasion half-a-guinea
was charged for admission into the inclosed portion of
St. James’s Park; “it had,’? says a contemporary ac-
count, * all the appearance of Vauxhall on a full night*.”
The Green Park and Hyde Park were thrown open to
the people. The amusements consisted of a mimic
sea-fight on the piece of water called the Serpen-
tine, in Hyde Park; boat races on the canal in St.
Jeaames’s (the park had not then been metamorphosed
by Mr. Nash), with booths, bridges, a pagoda, a for-
tress which was to be turned into a temple of Con-
cord, fireworks, illuminations, a balloon ascent, &c.
The pagoda was accidently burnt in the course of the
night, but this would rather have heightened instead of
marring the enjoyment of the people, had it not been
for the deaths of two persons by the fire. In Hyde
Park the booths, shows, gaming tables, printing presses,
&c., remained for upwards of a week afterwards, nor
would the owners abandon the fair, till turned out by
the magistrates and police.
OBSERVATIONS ON THE ORIGIN OF THE
NAMES OF PERSONS AND PLACES IN THE
UNITED STATES.
{From a Correspondent. ]
Tuk names of places in the United States appear to be
divided into several pretty distinct classes or varieties ;
and although I do not recollect having inet with any
explanation of the matter in question, I think I shall
not have much difficulty in accounting for the origin
of American names generally.
The names of persons being more circumscribed than
the names of places, hence it follows that they are not
likely to form the same number of distinct varieties,
notwithstanding the Americans are a little prone to
inventing new names for their young republican sons
aud daughters, but more particularly the latter. The
names of places may be separated into six or seven |
classes, while those of persons I shall confine to two or
three. The earliest settlers of the New England States
were persons who had suffered religions persecutions,
and who, therefore, preferred encountering the rigours
of an inhospitable climate, and the hardships of an un-
inhabited and desolate country, for the sake of that
relivious freedom which they considered paramount to
all *‘ creature comforts,” the good things of this world
being by them so denominated. Many of them car-
ried with them to the rocky shores of Massachusetts
Bay Scripture proper names, for it had previously been
the custom of those religious sects to which the ‘ Pil-
orim Fathers” had belonged in Great Britain, to im- |
part a sort of sanctity to their offspring by giving to
their children what they were pleased to call “ Bible
names.” This custom therefore continued, or, pro-
bably, somewhat increased; for besides the rehgious
fervour which continued to stimnlate those hardy
pioneers of the wilderness, they felt an anxtety to per-
petuate their own names in their respective families,
by naming the children after their fathers and grand-
fathers. However, many cf them in after-years began
to look upon this old custom as savouring too much
of worldly-mindedness ; and hence arose the practice,
which to the present day is occasionally resorted to,
of leaving (as they used to express it) the naming of
their children in the hands of Providence. For this
_* Gentleman’s Magazine for 1814,
THE PENNY
MAGAZINE. 493
purpose, when a child had. to be named, the family
Bible was brought forward and opened by the father;
and the first name that caught his eye, as he ran it
over the sacred page (provided it accorded with the sex
of the child), became the future name of the young
Innocent. It appears to me that much fairness has
been practised by the fathers of past generations; for
we find innumerable Scriptural names upon American
records which, I am sure, from their being both diffi-
cult to pronounce, and exceedingly harsh and uncouth
in sound, would never have been chosen by the parents,
had the choice been wholly left to themselves. . But
that perfect honesty has not been practised upon all
occasions, I think, seems evident; for I never heard of
a Yankee whose name was Beelzebub, Nebnchadnezzar,
or Judas Iscariot. Many of the females were named
after the cardinal-virtues ; and even at the present day
we find a large sprinkling of Grace, Faith, Hope,
Charity, Patience, Prudence, and Comfort, among the
women of America. As I before remarked, there are’
numerous names, quite 2cw, among the present gene-
ration of the females, which have no generic character
whatever; but_are formed to please the eye or the ear
of the inventor. | |
After the close of the American revolution a passion
for martial names sprang up, and many of. the old
soldiers of that period christened their boys Marshals,
Generals, Admirals, Colonels, Majors, &c.; so that the
stranger at the present day is often led into error by
Supposing that every General he falls in’ with does
rank, or has ranked, high as a military officer. ‘Then,
too, although it certainly savours of anti-republicanism,
we find men writing their names Squire, Governor,
President, Earl, Duke; and I had a neighbour whose
parents had (i thought) profanely adopted for their
son the name of Jshu Lord. But to proceed with the
names of places. —
The early settlers of the New England States were,
as I before observed, a religious and sedate community,
so that the names they bestowed upon their new towns
and villages were either of a moral or locally charac-
teristic nature; such, for instance, as Concord, Pro-
vidence, and Salem—or Newport, Springfield, and
Hollowell. But the first-settlers of the southern states
were persons of quite a different character; for they
were not driven, aS it were, from their homes to seek a
refuge in the wilds of America, but emigrated under
government grants or influence, or else they were con-
victs transported to those (then) new colonies. ‘Those,
therefore, who had the naming of the towns and settle-
ments—being under government influence,—naturally
enough felt disposed to flatter their patrons, and hence
may be accounted for such names as Elizabeth ‘Town,
Virginia, Raleigh, Brunswick, Augusta, Beaufort, St.
Mary’s, Williamsburg, York Town, &c. After the pe-
riod when the country began to attract a more general
attention, and persons from all parts of the United
Kingdom resorted in considerable numbers to these
flourishing colonies, we ‘find that the new comers for
the most part adopted the precise names of the towns
or villages, or parishes, in which they had resided in
their native country; without any reference whatever
to similarity of situation, &c. ‘his seems to have been
a common feeling throughout the whole range of the
(then) provinces; and consequently we find Londons,
Bristols, Plymouths, Newcastles, Yorks, Oxfords, Cam-
bridges, Belfasts, and Berwicks, scattered all through
the part of the country which was then inhabited. F're-
quently, however, they named their counties after our
towns, and their towns after our counties. ‘Thus, for
instance, they have I know not how many towns called
Northumberland, and probably an equal number of
counties named Richmond and Chester. Most of the
rivers have been wisely permitted to retain their Indian
494
names; and in particular districts the counties have
beeu named after the lakes, rivers, or tribes of Indians
ouce resident there.
The names of places proceeded pretty much in this
way until after the close of the American war of the
Revolution, when a totally new system of names was
immediately afterwards introduced. The people of the
thirteen United Provinces having established their inde-
pendence, after a long and severe strugele, no longer
thought of adopting popular English names, but sub-
stituted those of their own citizens who had been in any
way instrumental in working out what they considered
tle salvation of their country. At the head of a lone
list of popular names stands (and very deservedly) that
of Washineton ; and I verily believe there are, at this
present period, more than five hundred places, in-
cluding counties, towns, villages, and townships, bearing
the name of this great and good man. The capital city
of the country has, very honourably and appropriately,
received the name of the great founder of the republic;
while many a flourishing town, and fertile county, is
proud in recording, for the benefit of future generations,
that its founders were admirers, or perhaps followers,
of the first president of the United States. I hardly
know which of the popular names of 1776 ranks next
to Washington, in respect to their memories being
perpetuated in the names of places from one extremity
of the country to the other; but the three following, in
particular, stand unrivalled, namely, Franklin, Adams,
and Jefferson. Lafayette, who gave his talents and
his wealth, to the cause of freedom in America, comes
il for a tolerable share of the young towns and counties
which have been Frenchified in grateful remembrance
of his generous services. ‘Then follow hosts of Waynes,
Warrens, Sullivans, Gates’s, Greens, Montgomerys,
M‘Keanes, and I know not how many scores of revolu-
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
|
[DECEMBER 23,
almost universal termination “ ville;” for no class of
names is more common than Woodvilles, Watervilles,
Meadvilles, Smithvilles, Brownvilles, Meanvilles, and
Bellevilles. Then the spirit of independence gave names
to Liberty and Libertyvilles, Free Towns and Free-
donias, and various others of a similar signification.
And in the third place, the great influx of foreigners—
European settlers—introduce all manner of names into
the various sections of the forests where they chance to
settle. In this way matters progressed until after the
last war between this country and the United States ;
which, although not of long continuance, gave a number
of their naval and military leaders such a hold on
public opinion and sentiment, that after its close it was
the fashion for several years to bestow upon the new
and rising counties, towns, and villages, such names as
Jackson, Decatur, Brown, Monroe, Lawrence, &c., to
which were attached, agreeably to the tastes of the
Sttlers, all sorts of terminations. ‘The first of these
names stands conspicuously forward from the rest, for
he has already lived to see (if he casts his eye over the
map of the United States) some hundreds of Jacksons,
Jacksonvilles, and Jacksonburgs; indeed his name,
in this respect, has almost rivalled that of the immortal
Washington.
[ have now gone through the prevailing classes of
names, and have endeavoured to assien for their origin
certain causes and dates. With regard to the present
time there appears to be such a dearth of popular
claimants, that it becomes almost a matter of accident,
whether the new townships shall be called London or
Constantinople, Charleston or Johnston, Greenfield or
Pleasant Valley, Harmony or Mount Sion; so that
until some ew impulse shall be given which shall
excite men’s minds and passions, a mixed multitude
of names will be given to the places found in those
tionary worthies ; and from these may be dated one of | districts of country now ina state of becoming popu-
those striking popular eras of the names of places in| lated; and in proportion as the good sense of the
America.
Soon after the close of the revolutionary war large
tracts of land were distributed among those who had
taken up arms in the defence of the country, which
tracts were designated military reserves. It seems both
reasonabie and natural to suppose that the names of
the highest renown amongst themselves would have
been bestowed upon the new towns and settlements as
they sprang up; but, no! there was an ambition to
go even beyond this; for the young Republic having
adopted the Roman eagle on her heraldic escutcheon —
Roman, as well as Grecian history, was ransacked for
“names that lived but in the classic page;” so that, in
a few years after the uninhabited forest had been
divided and sub-divided into counties and townships,
there sprung up in the wilderness such places as Brutus,
Cincinnatus, Pompey, Marcellus, Tully, Solon, Scio,
Romulns, Ithaca, Palmyra, Sparta, Athens, Ulysses,
Homer, Virgil, &c. And then, as if those who had
exhibited a Jess martial spirit in the e@reat strugele for
liberty were not for being outdone regarding remark-
able names, they adopted a long list of English classical
writers and philosophers; and in districts contiguous
to the ancients we find Newton, Locke, Bacon, Dryden,
Addison, &c., so that these may be said to constitute
another class of names of about fifty years standing.
In later times—that is since the interior of the country
began rapidly to fill up, and when peace and security
apparently had been firmly established—the names
adopted by the settlers cannot be so distinctly classified
as heretofore. ‘There are three separate influences,
however, which seem mainly to have decided the nam-
ing of new towns, about this period, namely, French
influence existing in consequence of the assistance given
by France in bringing about the independence of the
country; hence the numerous French names, and the
parties therewith connected shall have a prevailing in-
fluence, so, in like proportion, will the original Tudian
naines be retained; and which are, in general, alto-
gether preferable to those for which they are usually
abandoned. )
TUNIS AND TRIPOLI.
(Iixtracts from the Diary of the Rev. C. F. Ewald, who has heen
for some years employed in Africa as a Missionary on behalf of
the Society for Promoting Christianity among the Jews. The
extracts which follow are taken from the first part of his
Diary; the only part yet published. The work is edited by
Dr. P, Ewald, his brother, at Nuremberg.)
At Soliman, near Tunis*,
As soon as we had quitted the abodes of the living, we
came to the graves of the dead, which extend as far as
the city gates. Our road lay along them for a quarter
of a league, and the white sepulcbres, illumed by the
rising sun, were glistering among the neighbouring
hills. The sight of these tombs forcibly recalled to my
mind our Saviour’s illustration in Matthew xxii. 27-294,
as the graves both of Jews and Mahometans are still
white-washed from time to time, and thus produce a
fine effect, especially when seen in the distance. The
morning was lovely, the scenery still more so; and
although but half cultivated, the whole plain was clothed
with a beautiful verdure. On iny right hand flowery
plains alternated with corn-fields; while on my left
the Lake of Tunis and gentle hills covered with olive-
trees delighted the eye. How glorious a country!
Here thousands and thousands of human beings might
* About 20 miles S.S.E. of Tunis.
+ “ Woe unto you, Seribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! for ye
are hike unto whited sepulchres, which indeed appear beautiful
outward, but are within full of dead men’s bones, and of all un-
cleanness.”
1837.]
live in peace, happiness, and abundance, were the
sceptre wielded by a Christian prince, and the hand of
industry animated by the principles of the Gospel. As
it is, Moslem tyranny has crushed and depopulated the
whole land. 7
Doctor’s Fee,—On my to return to Soliman, I ob-
served a great concourse of people; on inquiring the
reason, they told me that they had had various popular
fétes for the last ten days in honour of the Bey’s reco-
very. The Bey, who had been extremely ill for several
months, was at length restored, and able publicly to
attend the last festival of Beyram. The great men of
his court desired to give some token of their gratitude
to his principal physician, an Italian, for his skill in
having prolonged the life of their master. They placed
a dish in an ante-chamber of the seraglio, and stationed
a Mameluke, who cried out, “ Let every one to whom
the health of the Bey is dear, reward the restorer of it,
the excellent Doctor N. N.” Accordingly, all who
wished publicly to testify their revard for their ruler,
threw money into the dish. The sum thus contributed
is proclaimed aloud in the following announcement :-—
N. N. has publicly declared his great devotion to our
lord and master, and given so and so much. In this
way the Bey’s physician received 50,000 francs. This
custom is usual also on the marriage of a prince or’
princess. ‘he great people of the country throw their
gifts into the plates, and as this takes place in the pre-
sence of the whole court, no one wishes to be behind-
hand, and large sums of money and precious stones are
by this mode presented to the bride and bridegrooin.
Nabal is a considerable town, about a quarter of a
league from the sea, and one league from the ancient
Neapolis*. It is said to contain about 8000 inhabit-
ants, though from its extent it might probably contain |
twice as many—desolation, however, meets us at every
step, and the number of ruinous houses is very consider-
able. Various reasons are assigned for its decay—the
oppression of the government, and popular superstition.
Whenever the Bey is apprized that an inhabitant of
Nabal is in possession of money, he seeks opportunity
to involve him in a law-suit, which invariably terini-
nates against him; he is expelled from his abode, which
is left to the devastating influence of the weather till it
falls into ruins. Another cause of the abandonment of
houses is a superstitious belief that they are haunted by
spirits which have taken up their residence in thein ;
in this case they are instantly deserted, and left as a
perpetual abode to their invisible tenants.
On leaving Hammamet we came to the ruins of the
once flourishing Roman city of Faradeese, which com-
mences on the coast, and ‘extends far into the plain.
A league farther on we arrived at the well Bir Salem.
Here the shepherds assemble to water their flocks, the
camels of the caravans come hither to replenish their
supply of water, and the weary pilgrim to allay his
parching thirst. With how much simplicity and truth
is every scene represented in Scripture! Jt was ata
well that Eliezer, Abraham’s servant, waited with his
camels till the women should come out of the city to
draw water. Atawell Jacob met with Rachel; and
Moses, when, fleeing into the land of Midiam, helped
the daughters of Jethro to fetch water out of the well.
At a weil, too, our Lord talked with the woman of.
Samaria. This custom prevails among the Arabs to
this day. It is however necessary, by way of explana-
tion, that I should state that the coast of North Africa
is inhabited by three distinct classes of Arabs. In the
towns they are called Moors; these shut np their wives
and daughters, who, when suffered to go abroad, are so
completely muffled up as to appear only a moving mass.
The other class, who go by the general name of Arabs, and the strai
* About 32 miles §,S.E. of Tunis,
THE PENNY MAGAZINE,
495.
live either in tents or villages, and still retain the same
manners as we find in the Bible. The Bedouins are
wandering Arabs who have no settled dwellings, and
move from place to place. ‘Towards evening we see
the women and girls leave their tents or houses, and
repairing to the wells to draw water. ‘The pitchers,
which are in the form of an urn with two handles, are
carried upon the shoulder. These wells are always
situated without the town, and for the convenience of
the shepherds, at a considerable distance from their
dwellings,
AN ISLAND IN THE MENAI.
[From a Correspondent.]
In crossing the Menai Bridge, the traveller, if he has
time and inclination to observe any thing but that
maguificent work, may see, on the Caernarvon side, a
small island about midway across the straits of the
Menai. On this island he may see a neatly-built cot-
tage and outbuildings, and, touching it at one point, a
semicircular enclosure of stroug wicker-work, formed of
stakes driven into the bed of the river, wattled with
strong branches of the beech-tree, at such distances
that the water passes easily through the interstices.
If he has leisure, he will find a short time passed on
the island by no means mis-spent in examining it, aud
in hearing from its inhabitants an account of their em-
ployinent and their mode of hfe. An opening from
the Holyhead Road, near the column raised by public
gratitude to conimemorate the services of the Marquis
of Anglesey, leads by an easy path to the water’s edge,
where the owner of the island, upon being hailed from
the shore, meets the stranger with a boat and ferries
him over to his dominions. ‘This owner is William
Jones, who lives wholly upon the island, together with
his wife, two sons, tio cats, a dog, and some pigs. He
is about fifty years of age; but his hard life has greatly
injured his constitution, and he would probably be taken
by most people to be nearer seventy than fifty: his
sons are fine intelligent lads, and at present sirone
and healthy, althoueh born and bred on the island.
His present wife is the second, whom he has succeeded
In persuading to leave the comforts of the Island of
Anglesey for the cares of that in the Menai. They
live on the produce of the fish caught in the enclosure
already mentioned, which they take in a manner prob-
ably new to most persons. Great quantities of fish pass
into the Menai, at Beaumaris, with the tide, which
runs with considerable force through the Straits: of
these, numbers are brought into the enclosure, by
which their progress is effectually stopped; and being
prevented by the force of the tide from returning up
the streain, they are made prisoners, and, at low water,
easily taken by the fisherman and his family. Between
20,000 and 30,000 herrings, I was assured by him,
have been thus secured at one ‘* take; and _ soles,
salmon, and other kinds of fish are also frequently
caught in great numbers. A ready sale is generally
found for these fish at Bangor, Beaumaris, &c.; such
as are not immediately disposed of are either dried or
salted in the outbuildings on the island, which are con-
veniently fitted up for that purpose. ‘This marine pre-
serve is well known to cormorants ard other birds of
prey, who pay it frequent visits; but the islanders keep
a gun in constant readiness, with wlich they make
oreat slaughter through openings in the windows of the
cottage. ‘These poor people are very civil and commu-
nicative, but the father alone speaks English. They
are delighted when any one visits them, and are much
eratified by being questioned concerning their habits,
their @ains, and other matters. They seem contented
and happy, and are lively and cheerful in their manners ;
1ger who can converse with them in their
own language will find them great talkers, ‘Their cot:
496 THE PENNY MAGAZINE. [Decennen 23, 1837.
tage is well built, of the same material which forms the
rock on which it stands, and the interior is clean and
comfortably furnished ; many of its comforts are owing
to the fortunate circumstance of Mrs. Jones having
been a servant in the family of one of the worthiest
men in the principality, the Rev. Henry Rowlands, of
Plas-gwyn, whose active benevolence is ever finding
out objects on which to employ itself’ At the western
eid of the cottage is a small room, which commands a
lovely view up the Menai, of Plas Newid, the seat of the
Marquis of Anglesey, on the right bank, and the Caer-
uarvonshire range of mountains on the left. In this
room small parties not unfrequently take tea, and spend
some hours. The water has risen so hieh within the last
twenty years, as more than once to cover the island to the
depth of a.foot. ‘The extreme principle of ‘Temperance
Societies, which is now very prevalent in Wales, and
which has produced very beneficial effects amongst the
peasantry, has reached William Jones’s island, where
not a drop of aught fermented has been allowed during
the last two years. To so great a length is this prin-
ciple carried in the neiehbourhood, that numbers of
the people will not use even the yeast made by the
brewers, but they make a yeast of their own with po-
tatoes and other articles, which furnishes them with a
cheap and good substitute. ‘The fisherman's wife uses
this yeast, and her bread, though coarse, is excellent.
Their drink is buttermilk, a beverage most distasteful
to an English palate, being at once salt and sour.
CHANGE OF THE WATER LEVEL IN ee
we pAULTYR. a
In Mr. Greenongh’s Address to the Geological Society
us reported in thie ‘ Philosophical Magazine,’ it Is stated
that, as early as the time of Swedenberg, who wrote in
1715, it was observed’ that the level of the Baltie and
Genk Ocean was onthe decline. About the middle
of the last century an animated and long-continued
discussion took place in Sweden, first as to the cause
of this phenomena, and then as to its ae Hellant
of Tornea, who has’ been assured of the fact by his
father, an old boatman, and who afterwards witnessed
it himself , bequeathed alite had to the Academy of |
Sciences, on condition that they should proceed with
the investigation; the sum was small, but the bequest
answered the purpose. Some of the members of the
Academy made marks on exposed cliffs and in shel-
tered bays, recording the day on which the marks were
made, and their then height above the water. The
Baltic affords great facility to those who conduct such
experiments, as there is no tide, nor any other circum-
stance to affect its level, except uneqnal pressure of
the atmosphere on its ete: and on that of the ocean;
this produces a variation, which is curiously exemplified
at the Lake Malar, near Stockholm. As the baro-
meter rises or falls, the Baltic will flow into the lake
or the lake into the Baltic. ‘The variation resulting
from the inequality of atmospheric pressure, however,
is trifling. In sheltered spots mosses and lichens grow
down to the water’s edge, and thus form a natural re-
eister of its level. Upon this line of vegetation marks
were fixed, which now stand in many ‘places two feet
above the level of the water. Jn the years 1820-21,
Bruncrona visited the old marks, measnred the heioht
of each above the line of vegetation, fixed new marks,
and made a report to the Academy. With this report
has been published an Appendix by Halestrom, contain-
ing an account of measurements made by himself and
others along the coast of Bothnia. From these docu-
nents 1t would appear—lIst, that along: the whole coast
of the Baltic the water is lower in respect to the land
than it used to be; 2ndly; that the amount of variation
is not uniform. Hence it follows, that either the sea
and land have both undergone a change of level, or the
land only; a change of level in the sea only will not ex-
plain the phenomena. A quarter of a century has now
elapsed since Mr. Von Buch declared his convicticn that
the surface of Sweden was slowly rising all the way from
Frederickshall to Abo, and added, that the rise might
probably extend into Russia. Of the truth of that
doctrine, the presumption is so strong, as to demand
that similar experiments and observations should be
lustituted and continued for a series of years in other
countries, with a view to determine whether any change
of level is slowly taking place in those also. The
British Association for the Advancement of Science
has already obeyed the call. A committee has been
appointed to procure satisfactory data to determine the
question as far as relates to the coasts of Great Britain
and [reland; and it is to be hoped that similar investi-
oations will also be set on foot along the coasts of
France and Italy, and eventually be extended to many
of our colonial possessions.
CHARITABLE ESTABLISHMENTS AT CON-
STANTINOPLE.
AMONG AA establishments those which first present them-
selves to our notice are the “‘ zmarets (or kitchens) of the
poor.” -At these places bread, rice and meats, are dis-
tributed every day to such poor persons as have been
furnished with a ticket by the trustees of the mosque or the
imam of the quarter. Constantinople has not one imaret
which does not support from 2000 to 3000 persons, without
including the students, the attendants of the mosques and
the librarians, who derive their subsistence from the same
source. The other charitable establishments are less known;
but there are very large buildings -appropriated to the
reception of infirm and poor persons destitute of asylum.
To each of these hospitals gardens are attached, where the
sick are wont to take the air, and fountains for their ablu-
tions are not forgotten. The rooms in these buildings are
spacious and airy; but they are furnished with no other
moveables or beds than large circular sofas, upon which
thirty or forty persons sleep by night and recline by day.
There are many persons in each of ‘the hospitals appointed
to attend on the infirm and sick. These establishments are
ealled in Turkish duroush- shifa (house of reward), or
dewakane (house of medicaments). This seems to indicate
that the Turks had formerly hospitals lhke ours; but this
is not now the case; for although-they afford in the dewa-
kane an asylum to the infirm and poor, medical assistance
is not supplied. The only establishment, resembling our
hospitals for the sick, at Constantinople, is that for the
soldiers upon the plateau of Mal-Téssé, situated opposite the
eates of Adrianople and of Eeri-Capau, and which from a
distance looks hke a barrack, The buildings, which are of |
wood, inclose a large square court, and are capable of ac-
commodating from 1000 to 1200 patients. The organization
of this establishment is still very imperfect ; the pharmacy
embraces a very small number of medicaments, and all the
sick are confounded in such a manner that instead of being
cured of lis own disorder, incurs great risk of eetting
another. The hospital of Mal-Téssé is not the only military
hospital established at Constantinople. The imperial guard
have two hospitals, and there is also a hospital for sailors in
the arsenal. ‘he hospital for lunaties is at Solimanieh,
and the patients are lodged in rooms the iron-grated
windows of which look into the court. Nothing can be
more melancholy than the spectacle of human infirmity
which the rooms surrounding this enclosure exhibit. Each
of the lunatics is held by a chain, one end of which is
fastened round his neck and the other to the tron grating
of a window; and each is furnished with a covering, a mat,
a cake of bread anda jug of water. No means of cure are
adopted in this establishment, which is supported chiefly by _
the charity of foreigners, and the assistance given by the
friends of the fantics. Each religious sect a Constan-_
tinople has a hospital for its own madmen. That of the
Greeks is near the gate of Egri-Capau; and the patients
are little better treated than in the establishments of the
Turks. They have also a church where many of these mi-
serable beings are seen chained to the stalls.—French Jour.
LONDON: CHARLES KNIGHT & CO., 22, LUDGATE STREET.
Printed by WILLIAM CLowEs and Sons, Stamford Street,
THE PENNY MAGAZINE
OF THE
society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledze.
308.)
PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY.
[DecemBeER 30, 1837.
A LOOKING-GLASS FOR LONDON—No. XXX.
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cap ¢ | [Hyde Park—Entrance. from Piccadilly. ]
“Tne Park,” as St. Jamess Park was formerly most
usually termed, was a very favourite resort during the
latter part of the seventeenth and the greater portion of
the eighteenth centuries. Kensington Gardens, on the
west side of Hyde Park, began to divide attention with
it, as London spread westward: but from the reign of
Charles If. to that of George II. the fashionables who
walked in the “ Park,’”’ came, not from Grosvenor or
Berkeley Squares or Portland Place, but from the
Strand and Fleet Street, from Holborn, Lincoln’s Inn
Fields, and Bow Street. Pepys’s Diary ‘abounds, as
mieht well be expected, with notices of the Park and
its neighbourhood. | “‘ No frost, snow, nor east wind,”
says the ‘Tatler’ in 1711, “can hinder a large set of
people from ‘going to the Park in‘ February, no dust
nor heat in June.” Gay, in his ‘ Trivia,’ says (1712)
“The ladies gaily dress’d the Mall adorn a
With various dyes, and paint the sunny morn.” | i
And in a“ Guide to London” of 1776, it is said,
“The Park is the usual place of exercise in a- morning
for fine gentlemen and ladies, who resort thither to see
and be seen; and the Mall is one of the finest gravel
walks in Europe.” ‘The Mall was constpucted by
Charles IT. for the purpose of playing a favourite game,
which was performed with a ball and a club called
a mall. On one occasion, Pepys says, ‘* Thence to St.
James's, where the Duke of York was playing in the
Pell Mell.”
Hyde Park was also a favourite resort; but lying
Vou, VI, |
quite exterior to London, fields intervening between it
and the metropolis, it was frequented by the fashionable
people in their then clumsily-constructed coaches,’ and
by the bulk of the people on, foot; each class being
often ‘drawn to it by the reviews and svorts of which it
was frequently the-scene. The fashionable district at
the extreme end of Piccadilly (on the east side of Hyde
Park) preserves in its name, ‘Mayfair,’ a memorial of
the time when the site was a field, and. annually, in the.
month of May, a fair, surpassing even Bartholomew
fair in rough sports and rude pastimes, was. held in it.
Pepys, before he had attained to that grand distinction
of his life, which he records with so much’ satisfaction,
the possession of a coach, mentions bargaining with the.
driver of a hackney coach to “ carry us to Hide Park,
there being a general muster of the King’s. guards,
horse and foot.” He also went, at another time, “ to-
Hide Park by coach, and.saw a fine foot race three -
times round the’ Park.” Towards the close of his.
official life he speaks of going to the park, “ where was.
very much company, and the weather very pleasant. I
carried my wife to’ the lodge, the first time this year,
and there, in our coach, eat a cheesecake, and drank a
tankard of milk:’ The very last entry in his Diary
records a fact which would be thought, at present,
rather out of character with a drive in Hyde Park in
ones own coach: ‘ Thence to the World’s End, a
drinking house by the park, and there merry, and so
homelate, =~ *'.° ;
35
A98
Hyde Park was formerly the scene of many “ frolics”’
—one is recorded by Malcolm: “ Several frolicsome
gentlemen hired a hackney coach in 1724, to which
they affixed six horses; the coachman and postilion they
habited as kennel- sweepers or scavengers; and they
placed as many shoe-boys as could cling to the vehicle
behind as footmen, with their stools on their heads, and
baskets of implements by their sides. Thus equipped
they drove to the Ring in Hyde Park, and there enter-
tained the company with this species of eccentricity.”
To see Hyde Park at ‘the present day, in its full
olory, we must select a fine dry Sunday in that ‘ sea-
son,”
« Whanne that April with his shoures sote,
The droughte of March hath pierced to the rote.”
At such a time the “town” is generally full; every
house in every fashionable street and square 1s oc-
cupied ; and west-end hotel-keepers are protesting,
with politest asseveration, that they can accommodate
no more. Passing along Oxford Street, we may re-
mark the striking contrast which the street presents
with the scene we are about to witness. Shops are all
shut, and business is suspended, except the business of
omnibus men, chemists, and pastrycooks. How dry and
comfortable for walking is the long length of pave-
ment, when compared with its state of almost intoler-
able moisture and mud in winter !
Arriving at Hyde Park about four o’clock, and enter-
ing by Cumberland Gate, we cross the carriage road,
and havi ‘ring gained the green sward, we may either take
possession ‘of a seat, if there i is room, or standing, walk-
ing, or leaning over the rail, watch the spectacle which
has now commenced. The throng of carriages and
horses seems to increase every minute. ‘he stream
flows in acircle—yet it is a long time before we re-
mark again the same carriages and the same faces.
How gracefully these ladies manage their palfreys!
and the servants ou horseback behind, by what kind of
instinct is it, that, even in the crowd, they contrive to
preserve the true medium distance ? Look at this
chariot—one amongst a hundred. The London coach-
maker points, with an eye of triumph, to its general
outlme, and its equipments in detail, and asks if such
handsome vehicles can be made anywhere out of the
metropolis—the very hammercloth has been chosen
with a view to complete the picture, for see how beau-
tifully it harmonises with the colour of the vehicle, and
the coachman’s livery! And the horses too—noble
animals !—do they not seem proudly conscious of be-
longing to
“ people of rank,
Who have jewels, and rings, and cash in the bank ?”
But from what source is this stream of private car-
riages fed, for not a hackney-coach or cabriolet is per-
mitted to enter the park? ‘* The support of each car-
riage,” says Colonel Sykes, ‘‘ including horses, servants,
liveries, duty, wear and tear, costs “above 2501. per
annum.” At this rate,a man With an income of 1000J.
a-year may keep a carriage, especially if he only hires
one from the coachmaker for the period during which
he isin “town.” But of the owners of the large ma-
jority of these carriages now circling round Hyde Park,
we can affirm, from certain almost undefinable circum-
stances, that their annual incomes are, each of them,.
not much under 5000/., and not a few are above 20,0001.
Recollect, tco, that at this moment, though Hyde Park
appears as if it held all the private carriages that London
can possibly muster, the spacious road round Regent’s
Park is also covered with them, and to a.great extent
on each side of the entrance of the Zoological Gardens
there is such a throng, awaiting their owners, that a
passage can scarcely be obtained. It is almost useless,
without satisfactory data, to guess at what may be the |
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
‘porter or a common labourer, spends more, and, i
LDeceg oa 30
amount of wealth represented by these exterior symbols
of carriages, armorial bearings, liveries, and whatever
else the assekge’ taxes take cognizance of: one thing
may be easily affirmed, that no city, since the world
began, ever held in combination so many proofs of
enormous wealth as London presents to the eye.
It is now upwards of five o’clock, and the throng in
Hyde Park is at its height. Dukes, merchants, bar-
risters, and bankers are all intermingled; ‘* parliament
men 7 on horseback—for Sunday is a “dies non” in the
senate—bow to ladies whose figures and complexion
make Frenchmen and Prussians talk with rapture of
the “ beauties of England ;” tall footmen, shining in
scarlet and lace, exchange knowing looks with smart
diminutive ‘‘ tigers’ in ‘frock coats and top-boots, who
cling behind bachelor-Jooking cabriolets. By and by
an occasional carriage may be seen to break out of the
circle, and disappear by one of the wates—for the hour
of dinner draws nigh. At six o’clock there is a visible
declension in the numbers; and after that time the
bustle dies rapidly away.
We have taken no notice of the lookers-on in the
Park, who also, though they cannot parade their private
carriages here, have yet come to see and be seen.
Many of these, each in his particular sphere, are as
happy and as comfortable as a lord. Here now isa —
mechanic—a “ body-maker’—one of that class of work-
men who earn from three to five pounds a week by
making the carriages we have just been admiring.
Rough though his hands be, he is dressed in superfine
broad cloth that his grandfather might have envied,
and his wife looks handsome in silk, the rustle of which
might almost make her great-grandmother turn with
astonishment in her grave. ‘°‘It would be improper to
measure the wealth of a society by the enjoyments of
its richest members alone. Dividing the inhabitants
of London and Paris into the same number of ranks
with respect to the consumption of wealth, every Lon-
don rank enjoys more good things than its corre-
sponding Parisian rank. A second-rate merchant, in
London, spends at least twice as much as a second-
rate Parisian merchant; a third-rate London advocate
spends, perhaps, three times as much as a first-rate
Parisian advocate; a fourth-rate London attorney
spends six times as much as a second-rate Parisian
notary ; a physician in London, a surgeon, a dentist, a
tradesman of whatever description, a servant from the
butler to the scullion, a mechanic in whatever line, a
most cases, a great deal more, than one of a corre-
sponding rank in the Parisian scale. But this is not all.
In London there are more first-rate merchants, lawyers,
and tradesmen, in proportion to second-rate ones, more
second-rate ones in proportion to third-rate ones, and
so on, all down the scale *.”
Those who have already dined may leave the whole
fashionable West-end dining; end issuing from Hyde
Park by the screen-gate, cross the road and enter the
Green Park. It is studded by hundreds enjoying
themselves in the rays of the already setting sun.
Passing the new palace, we enter St. James's Park.
Here, again, are hundreds, walking amongst the shrub-
bery, seated on. chairs by the water- side, or amusing
themselves with the water-fowl. The French, who
have yet as many false notions of the English as we
had of them thirty years ago, fancy that the Londoners
are much given to shutting themselves up on Sunday 5
but a bird’s-eye view of the parks in-Apnil and May, o
a wider survey of the suburbs in summer, would quickly
remove the idea.
Raa Fair is a fit-enough anti-type of Hyde Park,
for the two places lie on the east and west of London;
the one is associated with ideas of. wealth, fashion,
* «England and America,’ vol, i. pps 748.
1837,]
grace, and beauty, and the other with whatever is most
sordid, mean, and base. Yet the contemplation of the
two scenes would not be worth the time spent on it, if
all that we derived was amusement from the contrast.
In human society there will always be ‘‘all ranks and
conditions of men,” as in the forest there will be trees
from the oak to the bramble. Yet civilization and
education will not have performed their duty to society
until the moral and physical incongruities of large cities
are swept away, and such places as St. Giles’s and Rag
Fair have no existence but in the memory of some old
citizen, or on the pages of an antiquated guide-Dook.
It is a long walk from Hyde Park to Rag Fair. If
we leave the park by Grosvenor Gate, passing through
Grosvenor Street, crossing Bond Street and Regent
Street, and through some of the narrow streets on the
east side of the latter, we shall arrive at the ‘* Seven
Dials.” Gay says, in his ‘ ‘Trivia’ —
“Where famed St. Giles’s ancient limits spread,
An inrail’d column rears its lofty head ;
Here to seven streets seven dials count the day,
And from each other catch the circling ray :
Here oft the peasant, with inquiring face,
Bewilder’d, trudges‘on from place to place.”
The ‘ inrailed column” with its seven dials has been
removed, but the seven streets still open into the place
where it stood, and perplex the stranger by their maze-
like appearance. A filthy, gin-drinking, and obnoxious-
looking neighbourhood it is; fit companion for the
purlieus of St. Giles’s, but an unseemly contrast to the
not very distant magnificence of the West-end. Mon-
mouth Street, that ancient storehouse of old clothes
and old shoes, is in the immediate neighbourhood of
the Seven Dials. If St. Martin’s Lane, which runs up
from Charing Cross, were extended, it would be carried
right through the Seven Dials; it is a pity but that
projects often talked about could be carried into exe-
cution, and that the nests of the Seven Dials and St.
Gilés’s were ploughed up to make way for broad, spa-
cious streets.
Getting into Drury Lane, and going down to the
Strand, we may look at Holywell Street. Holywell
Street is a narrow lane, like a slice taken off the Strand.
The old clothesmen, who are its chief occupants, are
really a respectable-looking generation, compared with
the residents in the same line of Field Lane and Rag
Iair. But they are a troublesome generation, and
have a keen eye to recommend their wares to gentle-
men whose clothes have seen service. Sir Walter Scott
thought it a high compliment to his appearance that
they did not attack him in his passage through their
domains. Passing through Fleet Street, ascending
Ludgate Hill, proceeding along Cheapside, and then
striking off towards the Tower, we arrive at Rosemary
Liane. |
Rosemary Lane! how did such a filthy place get so
fragrant an appellation? It must have been when it
had “a hedge row of elm trees on each side, with
bridges and easy stiles to pass over into the fields, very
convenient for the citizens to walk, shoot, or otherwise
recreate themselves.’ Rosemary Lane, alias Rag
Fair, strikes off from the end of the Minories, not far
from the Tower and the Royal Mint. The continuation
of the lane, which runs through the heart of White-
chapel, is called Cable Street and Back Lane.
It is the lower portion of Rosemary Lane, from the
Minories upwards, that is known all over the world as
Rag Fair. Yet Rag Fair is not immortal; its glory,
like that of many other things of the olden time, waxes
dim. It was otherwise when gentlemen wore huge
wigs, gold and silver-laced suits, “‘ blue or scarlet silk
stockings, with gold or silver clocks; lace neckcloths ;
square-toed, short-quartered shoes, with high red heels,
and small buckles; very long and formally-curled |
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
499
perukes, black riding-wigs, bag-wig's, and nightcap-
wigs; small three-cornered hats, laced with gold or
silver galloon, and sometimes trimmed with feathers ;”
and, to crown all, the never-failing sword dangling at
the heels. ‘Then manya faded dandy of his day, whose
credit with the tailor was broken up, and many a poor
coxcomb of pretension, trying to ape his superiors in
externals, were fain to sneak to Monmouth Street, which
was a refuge for the broken-down, but not for the des-
titute. Even at a more recent period, when “cloth
became the general material for the coat, and velvet,
silk, satin, and embroidery, were reserved for court
dresses, or waistcoats and breeches only *,” the dearness
of cloth made Rag Fair a very wreat convenience to
people of hmited means. But now, thanks to ma-
chinery, and to that taste which has produced such a
simplicity in male attire, nobody but the very poorest
need resort to Rag Fair.
And what is Rag Fair? A collection of old clothes’
shops, on each side of a dirty narrow street, with tables
and baskets set up on the edge of the pavement, where
almost everything second-hand is sold—old coats, old
shirts, old handkerchiefs, and old hats; old shoes that
have been familiar with the cobbler’s hand; old Tuscan
and Dunstable straw bonnets that have been bathed in
brimstone smoke again and again; old silk hats with
the nap stripped off, and their glossy black turned into
a ‘‘whity-brown.” But though wearing apparel is the
staple article of commerce, there is but little objection,
in this ereat mart, to deal in anything by whicha penny
may be made. Crockery of all kinds; pots and pans;
you can get a second-hand dinner dish, or an old pair of
bellows. Not a rag is lost with the Rag Fair mer-
chants—scarcely an old rusty nail allowed to go astray.
Walk up the lane, and mark the keen glancing eyes
on the lock-out for a customer, and how instinctively
they detect him! If-.you wish to have nothing to say
to the “ merchants,” show no halting irresolution, or
one, with gentle coaxing violence, may clap you up in
his den, and it will go hard if you escape without buying
something. Yet keen ‘“ Whitechapel sharps” though
they are, they will ot insult youif you give the slightest
indication of a determination not to be insulted; you
may even make a bargain in Rag Fair, if you can, and
know how. The place is unquestionably a great con-
venience to that numerous class whose wages are very
low, and whose capacity or ambition does not range
very high. It was amusing to us the other day, to hear
an Irishwoman, the mistress of a table covered with old
shoes, saying, in a very bland and really kind manner,
to a barefooted visitor of her stall—‘“ Sure, you may try
on a pair, and if they don’t fit you, there is no harim
—you need’nt buy them?”
Rag Fair was formerly the ‘“ Stock Exchange” of
the watherers of second-hand goods; there were regular
exchange hours, and “ business” was done quite in a
business way. ‘This is still the case to a considerable
extent. ‘That numerous body who traverse lanes, alleys,
streets, and suburban districts, and barter crockery for
old clothes, carry their collections to Rag Fair. ‘There
is also a large place, where hundreds of straw bonnets
of every hue, suspended by strings, oscillate like pendu-
lums—this is dignified by the name of the **‘ East Lon-
don Bazaar.”
The “slop-dealers” of Whitechapel carried on an ex-
tensive trade during the war, when the Thames was
crowded with ships, and money was scattered abont by
the sailors in their reckless way. The “‘slop-dealers”
boarded vessels as they arrived, bargained with the men
and petty officers, carried off their old clothes, aud sup-
plied them with what was at least new to them. Trade
is still carried on in the same way, but notin the same
* See ‘History of British Costume,’ Library of Entertaining
Knowledge.
900
stirring spirit that it was—the sailors, too, ‘frequently
step ashore to make their own bargains.
Nowhere. but in London can a man furnish his house
or his person at so cheap or so dear a.rate; nowhere
else do articles of furniture or dress undergo such
strange mutations, or, if able to speak with a man’s
voice, could tell such wonderful eventful histories.
The pier-glass which in Brook Street or Grosvenor
Square has often revealed, in silent but eloquent lan-
guage, the charms of a beauty to herself, may come at
last, its frame re-gilt, to decorate the parlour of a
greengrocer in Goodman’s Fields. The suit which has
been paraded in Bond Street or Regent Street, hangs
now in Holywell Street or Rag Fair, and passengers
are asked, “will ye buy? will ye buy?” ‘The hat
which has covered the head of a duke, may now adorn
a porter’s brows on Sunday. An economical man, not
very fastidious, may furnish his house, from kitchen to
drawing-room, without paying a visit to an upholsterer.
But we have not yet mentioned ‘‘ marine stores,”’
those extraordinary dens, which abound in the east of
London, as spacious show-rooms and magnificent-
looking furniture shops do in the west. Externally,
they are the most repulsive-looking places in the trading
line a man can enter. They are hung round with frag
ments of old rusty iron, and other ny which one
would think, at first ‘sight; not worth picking off the
street ; yet some of these places have large premises
filled with valuable property. In Colquhoun’s time
ereat complaint was made of these ‘‘ marine stores,”
being repositories .of stolen goods. ‘To what extent the
charge i is applicable in the present day, it does not be-
come us to say. Not very lone ago, one of the Thames
police magistrates, in adjudicating on a case, expressed
an emphatic wish that one-half of the marine store
dealers “ were hanged.” It is doubtless to these places
that the stolen pewter-pots of the publicans are carried,
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THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
as
[DecemBer 30, 1837
and that the lead stripped from the roofs of houses, or
pilfered brass .and iron, are here converted into cash,
But it would be wrong to stigmatize a whole body :
there can hardly be a doubt but that some of the marine
store dealers carry on a legitimate although a hetero-
geneous traffic.
We may finish with a few obvious remarks. How
different would; the sensations be of two visitors of
London, if the one arrived, for the first time, by the
preat “western road,’ on a Sunday evening in the
“ season, looked in upon Hyde Park on his way, and
took up his lodgings in Dover Street or Piccadilly ; the
other landing below the Tower on a wet , disagreeable
day, carrying his own portmanteau, in spite of the im-
portunities of porters, stumbling on Rosemary Lane in
his way, and glad to take up a lodging’in a public
house on Tower Hill or in the Minories! Fancy them
meeting in the Strand to compare notes! ‘“‘Saw ye
ever a more magnificent city ?” might the one exclaim ;
‘enormous, wealthy, amazing: the world is concentrated
here, and its choicest glories are to be seen in Hyde
Park.” ‘ Hold your tongue,’ mieht the other grumble ;
‘the one-half of the world does, not know-—not even
comprehend—how the other half lives; and it is clear,
from’ your language, that you have hot Seen Rag Fair.”
Taking ee as a: whiole, the words of our great
dramatic poet, witha slight substitution, may be- justly:
applied toiat’:— i) : ,
- © How rich, how dis. how. ijl how august,
How complicate, how wonderful, 1s London.”
. We have endeavoured to trace a few of: the out-deor
characteristics of this great metropolis. If this class of
characteristics is almost exhaustless, how wide is the
range of those peculiarities which ‘are contained in the
quarter of a million of dwellings of which London is
composed! It is for the moralist to analyze and arraugte .
| these ; 5 ours has been a’ hung bler task,
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‘@,* The Office’of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at 59, Linkin’ Inn Fields, 1
LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT & CO,, 22, LUDGATE STREET,}
Printed by WitLram Crowes and Sons, Stamford Street, '
Wouthly Supplenient of
THE PENNY MAGAZINE
OF THE
Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge.
369. ] November 30 to December 31, 1837.
PRINTING IN THE FIFTEENTH AND IN THE
: NINETEENTH CENTURIES.
During the summer of the
present year, a statue of John
Gutenberg, the inventor of
printing by moveable types,
was erected at Mayence, his .
native city; and on the 14th
August, and the two following
days, a festival was held there
upon the occasion of the in-
auguration of this monument,
In the volume of the ‘ Penny
Magazine’ for 1833 (No. 10],
p. 422), we have given a brief
history of the contending claims
of Mayence and of Haarlem for
the honour of having produced
the invention of printing; and,
if the opinion which we there
expressed in favour. of Ma-
yence were thought inconclu-
sive, abundant evidence. has
been since, brought forward to
show that Gutenberg deserves
all the honours of having con ~
ceived, and in great part per;
fected, an art which has pro-
duced the most signal effects
upon the destinies of mankind.
It is unnecessary for us to re-—
peat these proofs. At the late
festival of Mayence, at which
many hundred persons were
assembled, from all parts of.
Europe, to do honour to the
inventor of printing, no rival
pretensions were put forward,
although many of the com-
patriots of Coster, of Haarlem, .
were present. The fine statue
of Gutenberg, by Thorswals-
den (of which we present an
engraving), was opened amidst ©
an universal burst of enthu-
siasm. Never were the shouts
of a vast multitude raised on —
a more elevating occasion ;—
never were the triumphs of in-
tellect celebrated with greater
fervour. The statue of Gut-
enberg, who had won for his
city the gratitude of the world,
was opened with demonstra-
tions of popular feeling such
as have been wont only to 4
ereet the car of the conqueror. [Statue of Guisaiare at Mayence. | —by common conversation.
Vou. VI. a 2 Tt"
The poor printer of Mayence
indeed achieved a conquest ;
the fruits of his bloodless vic-
tory are imperishable; but it is
honourable beyond comparison
to the present generation of the
citizens of Mayence to have felt
_that this victory of mind, which
has made all future victories
_ of the same nature permanent,
was deserving of a trophy as
enduring almost as the inven-
tion which it celebrates.
Mighty as are the - benefits
mankind have derived from the
art of printing during the space
of nearly four centuries during
‘ which it has been in operation,
they probably amount to but a
small.portion of the whole sum
of good which in its ultimate
extension it is destined to con-
fer upon our race. Literature
‘ and books, even before the era
of this great invention, were
the chief sources from which
the moral light of the world
was drawn. We can hardly
conceive a form of civilization
without them. -Even while
books could only be multiplied
by the slow process of tran-
scription by the hand, although
direct - communication with
them was necessarily confined
to a few, still their indirect in-
fluence was extensive. ‘The
book which was actually read
only by a hundred individuals,
through these transmitted at
least’ a portion of its light to
many thousands. ‘The first cir-
cumscribed impulse was repro-
duced and spread abroad by all
the modes of oral intercourse
between man and man—by the
sermons of the priest—by the
addresses of the popular lec-
turer, often in those days at-
tended by listening thousands
—by the inysteries and morali-
ties of the stawe—by the reci-
tations of wandering minstrels
—by popular songs and ballads
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902
Into all these the few books that existed must have sent
something of their spirit—of the intellectual wealth of
which they were the permanent treasuries. And to a
much larger number of persons than was even com-
prehended within the action of these several processes
for the diffusion of thought, must advantages of many
_ other kinds, also ultimately originating in books, have
extended. Every new scientific truth, bearing upon
any of the arts, every stimulus to industry, every pro-
posal of improvement of any kind, which a book was
the means of suggesting, or of preserving from forget-
fulness, must have set many hands in motion, filled
many mouths with bread, and in an infinity of ways
promoted and sustained the growth of civilization. The
range and dominion of a useful book that was read at
all, must indeed, in this latter sense, have been at all
times universal, or in other words, of an extent to
which no bounds could be’set. Imperfect for many
purposes as was the method of recording thought by
writing merely, thought was still by this means pre-
served far more perfectly than it otherwise could pos-
sibly have been. Jiven a manuscript was an incom-
parably surer depository of knowledge, and afforded it
a much better chance both’ of diffusion in a correct
form, and of transmission to future ages, than if it had
been only committed to the breath of tradition. By
means of the former method, large accumulations of |
knowledge were actually accomplished, and a high, if }
not a wide-spread civilization was built up ;—with |
nothing but the latter, it seems hardly possible that
knowledge should not perish faster than it could be
collected. :
But who can’ read of the invention of Gutenberg of
Mayence—who can participate in the blessings of that
invention—and not perceive the immense multiplica-
tion of the power of books which must have instantly
followed the discovery of the art of multiplying their
numbers ‘by the printing press? It was the mightiest
revolution which the history of the world had known—
MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF
{[DecemBER 3).
occasion call upon them to show their possession of
these accomplishments; but we do not believe there
are more than the number we have stated who generally
read each so much as a whole volume through in
the year. If we were to double the fifteen hundred
thousand; we should probably include all who even
once a week look into a newspaper. Even of the
million and a half-of persons in this country whom we
have supposed to seek occasional enjoyment in reading ;
many, it cannot be doubted, are prevented from spend-
ing so much of their leisure in that occupation as they
would wish by the absolute want of books. Until this
want is supplied, it is impossible that among the labour-
ing classes reading should, to the extent which is de-
sirable, take the place of the coarser pleasures in which
many of their unoccupied hours are at present passed.
The greatest. encouragement to the belief that the
printing press will, slowly but surely, accomplish its
work throughout the world, is derived from the history
of what it has accomplished, Availing ourselves of
some materials which we have formerly published in a
work of smaller circulation, we will endeavour to trace
the progress of the press in our own country.
We may probably simplify this large subject, by
‘dividing this progress into five periods, viz. :—
I. From 1471 (the introduction of printing by
Caxton) to the accession of James I., 1603.
If, From 1603 to the Revolution, 1688.
Iff. From 1688 to the accession of George IIT,
1760. ,
IV. From 1760 to 1800.
V. From 1800 to 1837. |
I. It is a remarkable characteristic of the first cen-
tury of prmting, not only in this country but wherever a
press was erected, that the highest and most constant
efforts of the new art were addressed to the diffusion of
the old stores of knowledge, rather than to an enlarge-
‘ment of the stores by the addition of new materials. The
early professors of the art on the continent—in Germany,
at least if measured as it ought to be, not merely by the | Italy, and France—were scholars who knew the import-
tumult and crash of change which it occasioned at the |
moment, but by its enduring operation, and the far
reach of its consequences. It might be said, indeed,
to contain within its bosom the seeds of all future revo-
lutions. ‘The wave which it set in motion has been
rolling on till now. | ,
But that wave has still much farther to roll. Much
as the art of printing has already accomplished, its
greatest triumphs, we believe, are yet to come. I:ven
up to the present hour its advantages have been prin-
cipally confined to the few. ‘The great mass of the
population, even of the most civilized countries, still
remains to be brought into actual contact with the en-
joyments and blessings of which it is the dispenser.
They have derived, it is true, and are deriving every
day, indirectly, many benefits from books; but for all
that, their acquaintance with books is.really very nearly
as scanty as it was when a considerable landed estate
was the price of a single volume. How many persons
are there in this country who are habitual readers, or
even who are occasionally wont to take up a book as
the amusement of a leisure hour? The number is no
doubt much greater than.it was even a few years ago;
but still it certainly comprehends only a small fraction
of the entire population. It is of course impossible to
offer anything more than a rnde guess in regard to
such a matter: but taking the men, women, and young
people above ten years of age, in the United Kingdom,
to amount in all to about fifteen millions of persons,
we doubt much if there are so. many as fifteen hundred
thousand, or a tenth part of the number, who can be
accounted readers in the sense we have just explained.
A. great many more, no doubt, have been taught to
read, and can both read and write, should a special
ance of securing the world’s inheritance of the know-
ledge of Greece and Rome from any further destruction,
such as the scattered manuscripts of the ancient poets,
orators, and historians had experienced, through neglect
and ignorance. The press would put them fairly be-
yond the reach of any new waste. But after the first
half century of printing, when these manuscripts had |
been copied in type, and the public libraries and the
princes and nobles of Europe had been supplied, a fresh
want arose out of the satisfaction of the former want.
' Men of letters, who did not belong to the class of the
rich, anxiously demanded copies of the ancient classics,
and their demands were not made invain. The early
printers, the Alduses, and Stephenses, and Plantins, did
not hold it good to keep books dear for the advanice-
ment of letters; they anxiously desired to make them
cheap ; and they produced, therefore, not expensive
folios only, as their predecessors had done, but neat and
compactly printed octavos and duodecimos, for the
general market. The instant that they did this, the
foundations of literature were widened and deepened.
They probably at first overrated the demand ; indeed, we
know they did so—and_ they suffered in consequence.
But the time was sure to come when their labours would
be rewarded ; and, at any rate, they were at once placed
beyond a servile dependence upon patrons. When they
had their customers in every great city and university,
they did not wait for the approving nod of a pope or a
cardinal before they began to print. |
A new demand very soon followed upon the first
demand for cheap copies of the ancient classics ; and
this was even more completely .the demand of the
people. The doctrines of the Reformation had pro-
claimed the Bible as the best spiritual guide and
1837,.]
teacher—and the people would have Bibles.
English Bible was bought up and burnt; those who
bought the Bibles contribnted capital for making new
Bibles, and those who burnt the Bibles advertised them.
The first printers of the Bible were, however, cautious ;
they did not see the number of readers upon which they
were to rely fora sale. In 1540 Grafton printed but
900 copies of his complete edition of the Scriptures ;
and yet, so great was the rush to this new supply of the
most important knowledge, that we have existing 326
editions of the English Bible, or parts of the Bible,
printed between 1526 and 1600. °
The early English printers did not attempt what the
continental ones were doing for the ancient classics.
Down to 1540 no Greek book had appeared from an
Finelish press.
Cicero’s Epistles; Cambridge, no ancient writer what-
ever. Only three or four old Roman writers had been
reprinted, at that period, throughout England. But a
ereat deal was done for public instruction by the course
which our early printers took; for, as one of them says:
‘* Divers famous clerks and learned men translated and -
made many noble works into our English tongne,
wherehy there was much more plenty and abundance
of English used than there was in times past.” The
English nobility were, probably, for more than the
first half century of Ene@lish printing, the great encov- |
ragers of our press :—they required translations and
abridgments of the classics—versions of French and
Italian romances—old chronicles, and helps to devout
exercises. Caxton and his successors abundantly sup-
plied these wants, and the impulse to most of their
exertions was given by the growing demand for literary
amusement onthe part of the great. Caxton, speaking
of his ** Boke Eneydos,” says—‘‘ This present book 1s
not fora rude uplandish man to labour therein, nor |
read it; but only for a clerk and a noble gentleman, |
that feeleth and understandeth in feats of arms, in
love, and in noble chivalry.”
working in Europe ; the “rude uplandish man,” if he
gave promise of talent, was sent toschool. ‘The priests
strove with the laity for the education of the people ;
and not only in Protestant but in Catholic countries
were schools and universities everywhere founded.
Here, again, was a new source of employment for the
press—A, B, C's, or Absies, Primers, Catechisms,
Grammars, Dictionaries, were multiplied in every di-
rection. Books became, also, during this period, the
tools of professional men. ‘There were not many works
of medicine, but a great many of law. The people, too,
required instruction in the ordinances they were called
upon to obey; and thus the Statutes, mostly written in
French, ‘vere translated and abridged by Rastell, our
first law- printer.
After all this rush of the press of England towards
the diffusion of existing knowledge, it began to assist
in the prodnction of new works, but in very different
directions. Much of the poetry of the sixteenth cen-
tury, which our press spread around, will last for ever:
its controversial divinity has, in great part, perished.
Each, however, was a natural supply, arising out of the
demand of the people; as much as the chronicles, and
romances, and grammars were a natural supply; and
as the almanacs, and mysteries, and ballads, which the
people also then had, were a natural supply. Taken
altogether, the activity of the press of England, during
the first period of our inquiry, was very remarkable.
Ames and Herbert have recorded the names of 350
printers in England and Scotland, or of foreign printers
engaged in preducing books for England, that flou-
rished between 1471 and 1609. The same anthors
have recorded the titles of nearly 10,000 distinct works
printed amongst us during the same period. Many of
these works, however, were only single sheets; but, on
the other hand, there are, doubtless, many not here
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
The first |} registered.
| duction into England, books were dear.
Oxford had only printed a part of $
But a great change was |
903
Dividing the total number of books yrinted
during these 130 years, we find that the average num-
ber of distinct works produced each year was 75.
When Leo X. gave a privilege, in 1553, to the second
Aldus for printing ‘* Varro,” the Pope required that the
book should be sold cheap. Cheapness in books is a
relative term: it must depend upon the probable nnin-
ber of purchasers. If‘ Varro” were likely to be ex.
tensively read, Aldus could afford to sell it cheaply.
If he counted only upon a small impression, it must of
necessity have been dear. The principle that chiefly
determines price, in the commerce of books, is the
number of the purchasers. It is sufficiently evider}
that, long after the invention of printing, and its intro
In the * Privy
Purse Accounts of Elizabeth of York,” published by
Sir H. Nicolas, we find that, in 1505, twenty pence
were paid for a“ Primer” and a ‘‘ Psalter.” In 1505,
twenty pence would have bought half a load of barley, and
were eqiial to six days’ work of a labourer. In 1516,
Fitzherbert’s Abridgment,” a large folio law-book, them
first published, was sold for forty shillings. At that time,
forty shillings would have bought three fat oxen. Books
rradually became clieaper, as the printers ventured to
rely npon a larger number of purchasers. The exclusive
privilezes that were given to individnals for printing
all sorts of books, during the reigns of Henry VIITI.,
Mary, and Elizabeth,—although they were in accord-
ance with the spirit of monopoly which cliaracterized
that age, and were often granted to prevent the spread
of books,—offer a proof that the market was not large
enough to enable the producers to incur the risk of
competition. One with another, 200 copies inay be
estimated to have been printed of each book during tlie
period we have been noticing; we think that propor-
tion would have been quite adequate to the supply of
the limited number of readers,—to many of whom the
power of reading was a novelty, unsanctioned by the
practice of their forefathers.
And here we may panse to consider what mighty
results had been produced in a hundred and fifty years,
by the discovery of the art of printing from moveable
types by John Gutenberg, at Mayence. During that
period the Holy Scriptures had become the best pos-
session of the people, and the Reformation had been
accomplished in many conntries; the great productions
of classical antiquity had been made accessible to the
humblest scholar—and the rudiments of knowledge had
even partially descended to the mechanicand the peasant.
The keys of learning were within the reach of all. The
basso-relievos on the pedestal of Gutenberg’s statue
exhibit a part of the process by which this change was
accomplished. The printer is examining a matrix for
casting types, and he is comparing a printed sheet with
a manuscript. If he could have foreseen the entire
consequences of the apparently simple mechanical ar-
rangements which he was perfecting, it is just possible
that Gutenberg might have become dizzy with the pros-
pect, and, negligent of some minute point upon which
much depended, have left an incomplete discovery to
another generation, instead of the perfect art which
printing so soon became.
II. The second period of the English press, from the
accession of James I. to the Revolution, is, perhaps, all
circumstances considered, the least favourable to the
diffusion of knowledge of any period in our whole lite-
rary history. In the reign of the first Stuart came an
inundation of pedantry, which surrounded the court
with verbal criticism and solemn quibble ;—the people,
indeed, had their glorious dramatists, but Bacon was
looked upon as an impracticable dreamer. Controversy,
too, began to be rife in England; and the spirit at last
exploded in such a torrent of civil and ecclesiastical
violence in the reign of James’s successor, as left the
many little leisure for the cultivation =e under-
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standings. The press was absorbed by tne productions
of this furious spirit. There is, in the British Museum,
a collection of 2000 volumes of Tracts issued between
the years 1640 and 1660, the whole number of which
several publications amounts to the enormous quantity
of 20,000. ‘This most curious collection was made by
a bookseller of the name of Tomlinson, in the times
when the tracts were printed ;—was bargained for, but
not bought, by Charles I]. ;—and was eventually bought
by George III., and presented by him to.the British
Museum. The number of impressions of new bocks
unconnected with controversial subjects, printed during
these stormy days, must have been very small. Dr.
Johnson has well remarked that the nation, from 1623
to 1664, was satisfied with two editions of Shakspeare’s
Plays, which, probably, together did not amount to a
thousand copies.
At the Restoration our national literature, with a very
few erand exceptions, put on the lowest garb in which
literature can be arrayed; it was the toy of the king
and his courtezans. Charles II. and his followers
brought hither the spirit of the literary parasites of
Louis XIV., with whom the great were everything, the
people nothing. Small, indeed, must have been the
consumption of books amongst those*who
‘¢ Hated not learning worse than asp or toad,”
looking upon men of letters as the old monarchs looked
upon their jesters. Under such a state of things, Mil-
ton received fifteen pounds for the copy of ‘* Paradise
Lost ;’ and an Act of Parliament was passed that only
twenty printers should practise their art in the king-
dom, We see by a petition to Parliament in 1666,
that there were only 140 “ working printers” in Lon-
don. Burton, who lived near these days, has drawn a
fearful picture of the abject condition of men of learning,
1837.]
before they had a public to rely upon :—“S Rhetoric only
serves them to curse their bad fortunes; and many of
them, for want of means, are driven to hard shifts.
From grasshoppers they turn humble-bees and wasps,
plain parasites, and make the Muses mules, to satisfy
their hunger-starved paunches, and eet a meal’s meat.”
Nearly all that is glorious and enduring in our literature
has been built upon the demands of the people. Our
dramatists were essentially the ministers of taste, ay,
and of knowledge, to the people; and so were our
fine old divines. Who have perished—the verbal pe-
dants (we forget even their names), who were doing
homage to the first James as the Solomon of ‘his age,
or the Beaumonts and Jonsons, who were living upon
the breath of the mob’s applause at the Globe Theatre ?
Whio are banished to utter oblivion,—the Sedleys and
Rochesters, who were exciting the gross passions of the
second Charles; or the Taylors and Souths, who were
pouring forth their fervid eloquence and their poignant
wit upon the vulgar many ?
At the fire of London in 1666, the booksellers dwell-
ing about St. Paul's lost an immense stock of books in.
quires, amounting, according to Evelyn, to 200,0002.,
which they were accustomed to stow in the vaults of
the metropolitan cathedral, and. of other neiehbour-
ing churches. At that time the people were beginning
to read again, and to think;—and as new capital
naturally rushed in to replace the consumed stock of
books, there was considerable activity once more in
printing. The laws regulating the number of printers
soon after fell into disuse, as they had long fallen into
contempt. We have before us a catalogue (the first
compiled in this country) of “all the books printed in
England since the dreadful fire, 1666, to the end of
Trinity term, 1680,” which catalogue is. continued to
1685, year by year. A great many—we may fairly say
one-half—of these books are single sermons and tracts.
The whole nnmber of books printed during the
fourteen years from 1666 to 1680, we ascertain, by
counting, was 3550, of which 947 were divinity, 420
law, and 153 physic,—so that two-fifths of the whole
were professional books; 397 were school books, and
253 on subjects of geography and navigation, including
maps. ‘Taking the average of these fourteen years,
the total number of works produced yearly was 253 ;
but deducting the reprints, pamphlets, single sermons,
and maps, we may fairly assume that the yearly average
of new books was much under 100. Of the number of
copies constituting an edition we have no record; we
apprehend it must have been small, for the price of a
book as far as we can ascertain it was considerable.
Roger North, speaking of those booksellers of his day
who had the knack of wetting up volumes on temporary
matters, says, ‘* They crack their brains to find out
selling subjects, and keep hirelings in garrets, on hard
meat, to write and correct by the grate; so puff up an
octavo to a sufficient thickness, and there is szx shillings
current for an hour anda half’s reading.” In a cata-
logue, with prices, printed twenty-two years after the
one we have just noticed, we find that the ordinary cost
of an octavo was five shillings.
III. We have arrived at the third stage of our rapid
and imperfect sketch—from the Revolution to the ac-
cession of George ITT.
This period will be ever memorable in our literary
history for the creation, in great part, of periodical
literature... Till newspapers, and magazines, and re-
views, and cyclopmwdias, were established, the people,
even the middle classes, could not fairly be said to have
possessed themselves of the keys of knowledge.
The publication of intelligence began, as many of
- our readers know, during the wars of Charles I. and his
Parliament. But the ‘Mercuries’ of those days were
little more than occasional pamphlets. Burton speaks
of a ‘Pamphlet of News.’ Before the Revolution
THE PENNY MAGAZINE. |
909
there were several London papers, rerulated, however,
by privileges and surveyors of the Press. Soon after
the beginning of the eighteenth century, (1709,) Lon-
don had one daily paper, fifteen three times a week,
and one twice a week: this was before a stamp-duty
was imposed on papers. After the stamp-duty, in 1724,
there were three daily papers, six weekly, and ten three
times a week. Provincial newspapers had been esta-
blished in several ‘places at this period. The reien of
Anne also saw a new and most successful species of
literature—the issue of periodical papers which should
contain something less exciting and more conducive to
a healthy state of the public intellect, than the mere
rumours of foreign wars or domestic scandals. )
The creation of another new species of literature in
the next quarter of a century, is to be ascribed to the
strong good sense of a printer, who saw that, even
with their daily and weekly papers, the middle classes
were ill supplied with miscellaneous information. Cave,
in this spirit, projected the ‘Gentleman’s Magazine.’
He offered a share in it to half the booksellers in Lon-
don: they one aud all rejected the project as absurd.
They had not learnt, even by the success of the ‘ Es-
sayists, to rely upon a large number of purchasers.
In 1731, Cave, at his own risk, produced the first Ma-
gazine printed in Eneland—the ‘Gentleman’s.’ Its
success was so great, that in the following year the
booksellers, who could not understand Cave's project
till they knew its value by experiment, set up a rival
magazine, ‘‘he London.’ In 1749, the first Re-
view, ‘The Monthly,’ was started; and in a few years
was followed by ‘The Critical.’ It is not our purpose
to trace the history of our monthly reviews and ma-
geazines. ‘They did an immense deal for literature and
the literary character. ‘l'hey took the patronage of men
of letters out of the hands of the great and the fashion-
able, and confided it to the people.
The periodical literature of the era we are speaking
of, swallowed up a vast number of the pamphlets
through which writers used to communicate their
thoughts to the world. Dhisputants in a little circle
found in the magazines a vent for their opinions,
theological, moral, political, and antiquarian. This
circumstance, of course, greatly reduced the number of
merely temporary books: and it had thus the advantage
of imparting to our literature a more solid ‘character.
Makine a proportionate deduction for the pamphlets
inserted in the catalorues we have already referred to,
it appears to us, however, that the great influx of pe-
riodical literature, although constituting’ a most Irn-
portant branch of literary commerce, had, in some
degree, the effect of narrowing the publication of new
books; and perhaps wholesomely so. ‘That the grows
of periodical literature would produce the incontestible
effect of general knowledge, that of causing the appe-
tite to grow by what it feeds upon, we cannot doubt ;
but the new body of readers that periodical literature
had won from the middle classes, might rather desire
the old solid dishes, tnan crave after hastily-prodnced
novelties. Be this as it may, the number of mew books
published in this period was not large. We have before
us a ‘Complete Catalogue of Modern Books published
from the beginning of the century to 1756 ;’—from
which ‘all pamphlets and other tracts’ are exclnded.
We find that in these fifty-seven years, 5280 new works
appeared, which exhibits only an average of ninety-
three new works each year.
We are inclined to think that the numbers of an
edition printed had been increased ; for, however strange
it may appear, the general prices of the works in this
cataloeue are as low, if not lower, than in a priced
catalogue we also have of books printed in the years
1702 and 1703. A qnarto, published in the first half
of the last century, seems to have averaged from 10s, to
12s, per volume ; an octavo from 5s, to 6s.; and a duo
506
decimo from 2s. 6d. to 3s.
have mentioned, pretty much the same prices exist;
and yet an excise had been laid upon paper ; the prices
of authorship, even for the humblest labours, were raised
at least 200 per cent. above the prices of the time of
MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF
John Dunton, who says “‘ his great talent lies in collec-.
tion, and he will do it for you at six shillings a sheet ; |
and, more than all, the cost of the necessaries of life.
was much advanced. We can only account for this’
upon the principle that the publishers of the first half
of the eighteenth century knew their trade, and, priut-
ing larger numbers, adapted their prices to the extension |
of the market.
They also, in many cases, lessened their
risk by publishing by subscription,—a practice now:
almost disreputable, but possessing great advantages
for the production of costly books. ‘This was, in many
respects, the golden age for publishers, when large and:
certain fortunes were made,—when there was not a’
great deal of a gambling spirit in the business.
Per-.
haps much of this proceeded from the publishers’ aiming
less to produce novelty than excellence—selling targe
zmpressions of few books, and not distracting the public |
with their noisy competition in the manufacture of new |
wares for the market of the hour.
ceased to carry their books to Bristol or Stourbridge
fairs, or to hawk them about the country in auctions
Publishers thus |
grew into higher influence in society. They had long
Somitine unwary. The trade of books had gone into.
| ‘Constable’s Miscellany’ led the way in this novel at-
recular commercial channels.
TV. The period from the accession of George Ul. to |
the close of the eighteenth century, is marked by the
rapid increase of the deinand for popular literature,
rather than by any prominent features of: originality in
literary production.
Periodical literature spread on.
every side; newspapers, magazines, reviews, were mul-—
tiplied ; and the old system of-selling books by hawkers
was extended to the rural districts, and small provincial
towns.
lity was indifferent, with a few exceptions; and the cost
of these works was considerable,
Of the number books thus produced, the qua-_
The principle, how--
ever, was then first developed, of extending the market,
by coming into it at regular intervals with fractions of.
a book, so that the humblest customer might lay by each
week in a savings’-bank of knowledge. This was an
important step, which has produced great effects, bnt
which is even now capable of a much more nniversal
application than it has ever yet received.
‘History of England’ was one of the most successful
number-books ; it sold to the extent of 20,000 copies.
We may exhibit the rapid growth of the publication
of new books, by examining the catalocues of the latter
part of the eighteenth century, passing over the earlier
years of the “reion of George III. In the * Modern
Catalogue of Books,’ from 1792 to the end of 1802,
eleven years, we find that 4096 new works were pub-
lished, exclusive of reprints not altered in price, and also
exclusive of pamphlets: deducting one-fifth for reprints,
we have an average of 372 new books per year. This
Smollett’s |
is a prodigious stride beyond the average of 93 per year |
of the previous period. But we are not sure that our
literature was in a more healthy condition.
cause or other, the selling price of books had increased,
in most cases 50 per cent.,in others, 100 per cent. The
2s. Gd. duodecimo had become 4s.3 the 6s. octavo,
10s. 6d.; and the 12s. quarto, 1J. 1s. It would appear
from this that the exclusive market was principally
From some .
—_—
sought for new books; that the publishers of novelties —
did not rely upon the increasing number of readers 3:
and that the periodical works constituted the principal |
supply of the many. ‘The aggregate increase of the
commerce in books must, however, have become enor- |
mous, when compared with the previous fifty years 3.
and the effect was hiehly beneficial to the iiterary cha- |
| of this wonderful branch of the commerce of literature
racter. The age of patronage was gone.
V. Of the last period—the most “remarkable for the |
[DecemBeEr 31,
In the earlier catalocue we | great extension of the commerce in books—we shall
present the accounts of the first twenty-seven years
collectively, and of the last ten years in detail.
The number of new publications issued from 1800 {to
1827, including reprints altered in size and price, but
excluding pamphlets, was, according to the London
catalogue, 19,860. Deducting one-fifth for the re-
prints, we have 15,888 new books in twenty-seven
years ; showing an average of 588 new books per year,
being an increase of 216 per year over the last eleven
years of the previous century. Books, however, were
still rising in price. ‘The demand for new books, even
at the very high cost of those days, was principally
maintained by Reading Societies and Circulating Libra-
ries. When these new modes of diffusing knowledge
were first established, it was predicted that they would
destroy the trade of publishing. (See ‘ Lackington’s
Life.”) But the Reading Societies and the Circulating
Libraries, by enabling many to read new books at a
small expense, created a much larger market than the
desires of individual purchasers. for ephemeral works
could have formed; and a very large class of books
were expressly produced for this market.
But a much larger class of book-buyers had sprung
up, principally out of the middle ranks. For these a
new species of literature had to be produced,—that of
books conveying’ sterling information in a popular form,
and published at a very cheap rate. In the year 1827,
tempt; the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Know-
ledge commenced its operations ; and several publishers
of eminence soon directed their capital into the same
channels. Subsequently, editions of our great writers
have been multiplied at very reasonable prices; and
many a tradesman’s and mechanic’s house now con-
tains a well-selected stock of books, which, through
an annual expenditure of 2/. or 3/., has brought the
means of intellectual improvement, and all the tranquil
enjoyment that attends the practice of family reading,
home to his own fireside.
The increasing desire for knowledge amongst the
masses of the people was, however, not yet supplied.
In 1832 the ‘Penny Magazine’ and ‘Chambers’ Jour-
nal’ commenced to be published ; and subsequently the
‘Saturday Magazine.’ The ‘ Penny Sheet’ of the reion
of Queen Anne was revived in the reign of William IV.,
with a much wider range of usefulness. ‘The wonder-
ful success of this class of publications led a few persons,
who did not know the great truth—that the more people
read the more they will read, to proclaim that the trade
in books would be destroyed. ‘The following table of
the number of 7ew publications, without pamphlets and
reprints, from 1828 to 1836, furnishes the true answer
to these objectors to cheap literature :—
Yeur. Publications, Volumes,
820 or? Ay or i a Mm AG
1829 e e e ° 1064 ® ® e e 14 13
1830 . gots ell oe eee
mol. lf te ee ss oe
] §32 8 e e r ] } oe FY e 8 ° ® 1525
1833 «ow fe 8 TSO ge eee
L834 «© ce, eB QO SF pee
1835 +. » ele LOS? «.. ce Gee
P8360 5s ee Ne BO ce
The most remarkable characteristic of the press of
this country is its periodical literature. Looking back
to the first half century of printing, we see Gutenbere
and his successors slowly producing» a few costly books,
for which they had great difficulty in finding pur-
chasers. We think that it might be asserted, without
exaggeration, that the periodical works issued in Great
Britain during one year comprise more sheets than all
| the books printed in Europe from the period of Guten-
berg’s discovery to the year 1500. A few of the details
may amuse our readers.
1837,]
The number of newspapers published in the United
Kingdom is about 370 ;—of which 51 are published in
London; and 190 in the English Provinces; 53 in
Scotland; and 76in Ireland. The stamps annually
issued for these newspapers is now about 45,000,000.
In the quarter ending Ist April last, (the last return,)
11,500,000 were issued. This number shows an annual
increase of about 15,000,000 since the reduction of the
stamp toone penny. ‘The quantity of paper required
for the annual supply of these newspapers is 90,000
reams. Ina petition to the pope in 147], from Sweyn-
heim and Pannartz, printers at Rome, they bitterly
complain of the want of demand for their books, their
stock amounting to 12,000 volumes; and they say,
** You will admire how and where we could procure a
sufficient quantity of paper, or even rags, for such a
number of volumes.” About 1200 reams of paper
would have produced all the poor printers’ stock. Such
are the changes of four centuries.
The number of weekly periodical works (not news-
papers) issued in London on Saturday, December 16,
was about fifty. Of these the weekly sale of ‘ Chambers’
Journal,’ the ‘Penny Magazine, the ‘Saturday Maga-
zine, the ‘ Mirror, the ‘Mechanics’ Magazine,’ the
‘Lancet,’ the ‘ Church of England Magazine,’ and of
several others of the more important, amounts to little
less than 200,000 copies, or about 10,000,000 copies
annually. Of these weekly periodical works the fol-
lowing is an analysis :—
6 Religious.
2 Literary Criticism—bLilerary Gazette, Athenxuin.
I Musical Criticism.
4 Medical.
2 Scientific. <@
2 For the Advocacy of peculiar opinions,—1I advo-
cating opinions similar to those in the works of
Carlile, and | by the friends of co-operation.
18 Miscellanies. The more extensively-circulated
weekly periodicals belong to this class. New
ones are constantly added, and perish in a few
weeks.
5 ‘Tales and Stories.
7 Attempts at Fun, some of them called forth by the
success of the Pickwick Papers,—mostly trash.
] Sporting Slang.
48
Out of this number twenty-one are published at 1d.,
eicht at 13d., and seven at 24. Of the remainder the
prices are higher, varying up to 8d.
The monthly issue of periodical literature from Lon-
don is unequalled by any similar commercial operation
in Europe. Two hundred and thirty-six monthly pe-
riodical works are sent out on the last day of each
month, to every corner of the United Kingdom, from
Paternoster Row. There are also thirty-four periodical
works published quarterly: making a total of 270.
Of the monthly periodicals—including the weeklies
issued in parts—there are, 58 devoted to general lite-
rature; 48 to various branches of science, natural
history, &c.; 46 religious and missionary—many the
organs of particular sects; 4 histories of England—
appearing periodically ; 17 works issuing in volumes—
a few in parts; 20 fine arts—picture galleries—topo-
eraphy; 6 fashions. Of the remainder, many are very
cheap periodicals, addressed chiefly to children.
A bookseller, who has been many years conversant
with the industry of the great literary hive of London
on Magazine Day, has favoured us with the following
computations, which we have every reason to believe
perfectly accurate :—
The periodical works sold on the last day of the
month amount to 500,000 copies.
The amount of cash expended in the purchase of |
these 500,000 copies is 25,0002,
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
907
The parcels dispatched into the country, of which
very few remain over the day, are 2000.
Passing his life amidst the ceaseless activity that
thus belongs to the commerce of literature in London,
the writer of this paper felt no common interest in the
enthusiasm which the festival in honour of Gutenberg
called forth throughout Germany. The fine statue
which was to be opened to public view on the 14th
August, had been erected by a general subscription,
to which all Europe was invited to contribute. We
apprehend that the English, amidst the incessant claims
upon their attention for the support of all sorts of un-
dertakines, whether of a national or individual cha-
racter, had known little of the purpose which the eood
citizens of Mayence had been advocating with unabated
zeal for several years ;—and perhaps the object itself was
not calculated to call forth any very great liberality, on
the part of those who are often directed in their
bounties as much by fashion as by their own convictions.
Be that as it may, England literally gave nothing
towards the monument of a man whose invention has
done as much as any other single cause to make
Eingland what she is. ‘The remoteness of the cause
may also have lessened its importance; and some
people, who, without any deserts of their own, are en-
joying a more than full share of the blessings which
have- been shed upon us by the prosress of intellect,
(which determines the progress of national wealth,)
have a sort of instinctive notion that the spread of
knowledge is the spread of something inimical to the
pretensions of mere riches. We met with a lady on
board the steam-boat ascending the Rhine, two days
before the festival of Mayence, who, whilst she wave us
an elaborate account of the fashionable dulness of the
baths of Baden, and Nassau, and all the other German
watering-places, told us by all means to avoid Mayence
during the following week, as a crowd of low people
from all parts would be there, to make a great fuss
about a printer who had been dead two or three hun-
dred years. The low people did assemble in great
crowds: it was computed that at least fifteen thousand
strangers had arrived todo honour to the first printer.
The modes in which a large population displays its
enthusiasm are pretty much the same throughout tlie
world. If the sentiment which collects men together
be very heart-stirring, all the outward manifestations of
the sentiment harmonize with its real truth. ‘Thus,
processions, and orations, and public dinners, and
pageantries which in themselves are vain and empty,
‘are important when the persons whom they collect
tovether have one common feeling which for the time is
all-pervading. We never saw such a popular fervour
as prevailed at Mayence at the festival of last August.
The statue was to be opened on Monday the 14th,
but on the Sunday evening the name of Gutenberg
was rife through all the streets,—and the whole popu-
lation was gathered together on the bank of the river
to look upon a transparency displayed from a steam-
boat. In the morning all Mayence was in motion by
six o’clock ; and at eight a procession was formed to
the Cathedral, which, if it were not much more in-
posing than some of the processions of trades in Lon-
don, was conducted with a quiet precision which evi-
denced that the people felt they were engaged In a
solemn act. The fine old Cathedral was crowded ;—the
Bishop of Mayence performed High Mass ;—the first
bible printed by Gutenberg was displayed. What a
Geld for reflection. was here opened! ‘The first bible,
‘n connexion with the imposing pageantries of Catho-
licism—the bible, in great part a sealed book to the body
of the people,—the service of God in a tongue unknown
to the larger number of worshippers ; but that first
bible the germ of millions of bibles that have spread
the light of Christianity throughout all the habitable
508 MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT. {[DecemBer 3], 1837.
olobe! The Mass ended, the procession again advanced | us, and not connect them with printing and with its in-
to the adjacent square, where the statue was to be | ventor. The castles on.the Rhine, under whose ruins we
opened. Here was erected a vast amphitheatre, where, | travelled from Mayence, perished before the powerful
seated undcr their respective banners, were deputations combinations of the people of the towns. The petty
from all the great cities of Europe. Amidst salvos of | feudal despots fell,when the burghers had acquired wealth
artillery the veil was removed from the statue, and a | and knowledge. ‘But the progress of despotism upon a
hymn was sung by athousand voices. Then came ora- | larger scale could not have been arrested had the art of
tions;—then dinners — balls—oratorios—boat-races— | Gutenberg not been discovered. ‘The strongholds of
processions by torch-light. For three days the po- | military power still frown over the same majestic river.
pulation of Mayence was kept in a state of high ex- | The Rhine hasseen its petty fortresses crumble into decay ;
citement; and the echo of the excitement went through | —Ehrenbreitstein is more strong than ever :—but even
Germany,—and Gutenberg! Gutenberg ! was toasted | Ehrenbreitstein will fall before the power of mind. The
in many a bumpcr of Rhenish wine amidst this cordial | Rhine is crowded with steam-boats, where the fendal
and enthusiastic people. lord once levied tribute upon the frail bark of the fisher-
And, indeed, even in one who conld not boast of be- | man; andthe approaches to the Rhine from France and
longing to the land in which printing was invented, | Belgium will, in a few years, be a series of railroads.
the universality of the mighty effects of this art, when | Such communications will make war a game much more
rightly considered, would produce almost a correspond- difficult to play; and when mankind are thoroughly
ing enthusiasm, Tt is difficult to look upon the great | civilised, it will never be played again. Seeing, then,
changes that have been effected during the last four cen- | what intellect has done and is doing, we may well
tries, and which are still in progress everywhere around | venerate the memory of Gutenberg of Mayence.
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END OF VOLUME THE SIXTH.
*,." The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is‘ at 59, Lincoln’s Inn Fields,
LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT & CO., 22, LUDGATE STREET.
Printed by Wittiam Crowes and Sons, Stamford Street,
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