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PENNSYLVANIA
STATE UNIVERSITY
LIBRARY

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CHARLES KNIGHT & COQ.,
LONDON.

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Chairman--The Right Hon. LORD BROUGHAM, F.R.S., Member of the National Institute of France.
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Sir George T. Staunton, Bart., M.P. ‘
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Professor Thomson, M.D., F.L.S.

Thomas Vardon, Esq.

Jucuh Waley, Esq., B.A. d
Jas. Walker, Esq., F.R.S., Pr. Inst. Civ. Eng.

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Thos. Webster, . AM.

Right Hon. Lord Wrottesley, A.M., F.R.A.S.

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BOCAL COMMITTEES.

Allin. Staffrdshire—Rev. 5. P. Jones,
Anglesca—Rev. B. Williams.

Rev, W. Johnson.

~ — Miller, Ex.

Barastaple— — Bencraft, Esq. °

William Gribble, Esq.
Belfast—Jas. L. Drummond, M.D.
Birmugham—Paul Moon James, Csq., Trea-

surer.
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Bristul - J. N. Sanders, Esq., F.G.S., Chairman.
J, Reynolds, Esq., Treasurer.
J.B. Estlin, Esq , F.L.S., Secretary.
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C. HW. Cameron, Esq.
Cambridge—Rev. Leonard Jenyns, M.A., F.L.S.
Rev. John Lodge, M.A.
Rev. Prof. Seduwick. M.A., F.R.&, & G.S.
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Plato Petrides.
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-dward Strutt, Esq, M.P.
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James Couper, Esq.
A. J.D. D'Orsay, Esq.
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M.A., F.L.S. & G.S,
Hull—James Bowden, Esq.
Leeds—J, Marshall, Esq.
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Henry Browne, Esq.
Liverpool Sac. As.—J. Mullencux, Esq.
Rev. Wm. Shepherd, LL.D.
Maidstone —Clement T. Smyth, Eq.
John Case, Esq.

Manchester Lac. As.—G. W. Wood, E-q.,

M.P., Ch.

Sir Benjamin Heywood, Bt., Treasurer.

Sir George Philips, Bart., M-P.

T.N. Winstanles, Esq. Hon. See.
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Neath—John Rowland, Esa.

Newcastle — Rev. W. Turner.

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Newport, Isle of Wight-Ab. Clarke, Esq.

LT. Cooke, Juu., Esq.

R. G. Kirk inch vay:

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Wm. Forster, Esq.

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Rev. Baden Powell, Say. Prof.
Rev. Juin Jordan, B.A.

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Phymiuth—H., Woolleombe, Esq., F.A.S., Che
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E. Moor, M.D., F.L.S., Secretary.
G. Wightwich, Esq.

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A. W. Davis. M.D.

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Rev. P. Ewart, M.A.

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Humphreys Jones, Esq.

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Shrewsbury—R. A. Slaney, Esq.

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Stockport—H. Marsland, Esq., Treasurer.

Henry Coppock, Esq., Secretary.

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Swansea—Matthew Moggridge, Esq.

Tuvistich—Rev. W. Evans. .

John Rundle, Esq... M.P.

Truro—Heury Sewell Stokes, Esq.

Tunbridge Mells—Dr. Yeats.

Uttoreter—Robert Blurton, Esq.

Virginia, U. S.—Professor Tucker.

HB orcestey—Chas. Hastings, M.D.

C. H. Hebb, Esq.

Wrerham—Thomas Edgworth, Esq.
Major Sir William Lioyd,

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Dawson Turner, bsq. |

York—Rev. J. Kenrick, M.A.
John Phillips, Esq., F.R.S., F.G S.

THOMAS COATES, Esq., Secretary, No. 42, Bedford Square. |

THE PENNSYLVANIA STATE

UNIVERSITY LIBRARY

ee RE ee eee
London: Printed by Wittram Crowzs and Sons, Stamford Street.

t
t
i

ABomromes of Tierra del Fuego, 33,
61; Australia, 63; Brazil, 9; New.
Zealand, 132; Van Diemen’s Land.
195; Sandwich Islands, 229. Nootka)
Sound, 285; Kamtechatka, do

Affghanistan, $24, 451

Agriculture in Greece, 296

Air, pressure of, in relation to the hu-
man body, 50

Arab Town in Algeria, 323

Atmosphere, constitution of, adjusted to
animal and vegetable life, 224

Australia, Westerao, sufferings of an ex-
ploriny party in, under Captain Grey,
219, 2.9, 246

Australia, Western, bush life in, 244

Australia, Noith-Western, geology of,
16

Australia, South, and Port Lincoln, 1

Australia, progress of geographical dis
covery in, 203 :

Australia, overlanders of, 136

Baskets and their materials, 445

Rasque Provinees, 146

Beacon at Hadley, 231

Here fit Clubs, antiquity of, 279

Rirds, fond of, 134

Boats of rude nations, 71

Bailing food, 34

Bonuet- Monkey, natural history of, 399

Breakwaters—Cirerbourg, 163; Ply-
mouth, 159, 276

Brides in the Himalaya, 163

Brigands, modern, 20, 117, 130, 257

Burials in Asia Minor, 16

CANADIAN voyageurs, 400

Canals of London, 314, 326, 330

Canoes of Guiana, 16

Cattle shows, 52

Cavern in Corsica, 492

Cements and artificial stones, 158

Ceylon, artificial lakes in, 479

Cheese-making in the United States, 93

Chemical science, importance of, in
manufactures, 91

Chiffonniers of Paris, 279

Chile aud Santiazo, 159

Chimneys and chimney-sweepers, 323

Chinese boats, 356

Ciiff- crane in shipwrecks, 240

Cur, Jaques, the great merchant, 75

Coinage, wear and tear of, 335

Cologue and the cathedral, 440, 460

Colour of the ocean, 73

Commerce, duty of encouraging, 376

Comvensation halauce, 200

Coral reefs, 355

Cosmvramas, dioramas, and panoramas,

Courtier, old and young, 49; ancient
hospitality aud charity, 57; decay of
the old forms of hospitality and
chirity, 1293; feasts and entertain-
ments, 133; Christmas in the old
hall, 193; the new hall, 220; sports
and games, 241; apparel, 305

Coventry mysteries, 3b9

Culinary delicacies of thirteenth cen-
tury, 3!

Caltization of mountainous districts,
217

Culture, effects of, 489

Carrauts of Greece, 192

Custom house, London, 93

Dayprt.10N, 59
Decimal! division of the coinage, 370

- Diamond-carriers of Rio Janeiro, 100

Dies, preparation of, for coins and me-
dals, 2.51

Distinction, desire of, 376

Dog of Newfoundland, 347

Dyeing, red, blue, and_ yellow, plants
usert Cor, 438, 451, 479

SUBJECT.

Boston Bay, South Australia.
Holiand House, Keusingtou .
The Kuhau e e@ e e ° ee
Portrait of Froissart . . . .
Cell in the Mamertine Priso e
Seotch Firs . 2. 2. 2. 2 «
Bandit reposing.—From Pinelli .

°
e
e
e
e
e
e

Goldanith, from Sir J. Reynolds, and
Mill at Anburn, from Creswick .
Varwished Ware ofthe Burmese . . » 223 B. Sly.

INDEX TO VOL. XI,

FarR-TRv spets and voice-c onductors, 1] |LaABour, mental, division of, 2
East Lndian population, 19 Lambert, Daniel, 24
Emigration commissioners, duties of,|Landrail feigning death, 99
liz Land reprisals in the middle ages in
Ephesus, temple of Diana at, 167 Italy, 8u
Evesham abbey aod churches, 404 Land, tenure of, in Guernsey, 315
Latitude popularly explaiued, 416
Facrortrs, visits to, describing various| Levelling, process of, 39L
manwlactures and arts:—soap and] Light-honses, recent improvements in,
candle- making. 41; gas, $l; church! Zs, 294
clocks aud bells, 121; pianofortes,| London life of last century, 76
169; leather, 209; copper and lead| London fires, 480
manufactures, 249; distilling, 297;
manufacture of floor-cloth, 337; book-] Macningry, great principle of, 403
binding, 377; vinegar and British! Mamertine prison, Rome, 13
wine, 425; rope and sail-cloth, 405;) Manufactures of linen and cotton at
blacking, 509 ‘ Appenzell, 6
Female farmers, 280 Mapping, Model, or Relief Maps, 497
Fen draining in the eastern counties,! Markets in St. Petersburgh, 464
198 Meat, old and new modes of render-
Fish, fresh-water, notices of :—the erl, ing cheap, 143
37; pike, 69; Thames pike, 160;| Medal or relief engraving, 495
trout, 245: carp, 269; perch, 316;|Men, great, local memories of :—Gold-
grey mullet, 309; roach aud dace,| smith, 25; Thomson, 113; Poussin,
436; char, 476 161
Fishes, peculiarities respecting their! Merchants’ Marks, or Symbols, 503
growth, 53_ Meteor monks of Thessaly, 453
Foot, mechanism of the, 260 Michaelmas Goose, 593
Forest-clearing, effects of, on lakes; Milk, 19
and streams, 502, Mule, habits of the, 395
Friendly Societies, improvement of, 387! Music of nature in Norway, 56
roan and his niles 9; the
ttle of Cressy, 137; sieve of Calai : : : ’
177: batile of Poitiers, 201, 29" Re ree on A so and < 2ohi ay 22
as ee ye. oy’| Niagara, whirlpool of, 168
the Black Prince in Spain, 266, 313; Nivght in Newfoundland, 353
one of the * Deeds of Arms” of Chi-| ning. 103 :
valry, 353; Edward Hl. and the ead

%» tes S One : a} .
Countess of aremee s 85; The Ort, effect of, in stilling waves, 205

Artevelds, 406, 417; The Journey to VY! :
the Court of Gaston de Foix, 441; Oils, perfumed, mode of preparing in

Froissart at the Court of G: India, 120
Foix, 457; oe fe “paca Olive tree, and its effects on social eco-

41: Ri ; aie nomy, J6
vt Richard [I. and Bolingbroke, Orchidacer, 336

Furze, uses of, 19

Ganors, scenes on the, 165
Gastric juice, 280

Gems, useful applications of, 47
Glacier in the Himalayas, 347
Gibraltar in January, 24
Grouund-ice, 311

Passtno-Brtr, 15

Paston Letters, 106, 115

Pekin Gazette, 64

Persons, identity of, 10}

Pillory, punishment of the, 103

ae yeographically considered, 485,
490

Hantrations of the labouring classes, pana conection between: the colour

and their influence on character, 377 Pp : 90:
Hamburgh, history of, 237; great fire at, nae : peers eee cases,
270 : , f

9259
Hands of the ape, 192 cad . ao)
Hay, proper time for cutting, 272 eure of Tionevellyez4
Hedyes of dwarf-onk, 164
Herne’s Oak, 156
Holland House, 4
Holland as it was and as it is, 139
Holland, the picturesque in, 152
Hony-Kong, 300
Horses in the Last, and their treatment,

447, 454

Honses of Constantinople, 376 brary, 22
Houses, mode of removiny, in the United Railroads. in Germany, 148

States, 234 Railway-yoods traffic, 394, 411
Inentity of persons, 101
Improvements, Public, in 1842, 505 - 277; Dropmore, 321; Cassiobury,
India, steam communication with, 225,| °333, 348; Moor Park, 413, 420

35 ; Rhubarb, 168

crease of, 464
Population, improved, advantages of
an, 4380
Printing in Bombay, 244 ¢
Printing posting-bills, 30
Property in land ia Thessaly, 99

|Shearwater or Black Skimmer, natural
\

history of, Jl

Shrimp, uses of the, 136

Siberian fowling, 4%

Silk-worms, attemyts to rear, in Eng-
land, 150 ,

Singapore, 140

Slates, slaters, and slatiny, 79

Slate- quarries at Delacuole, Cornwall,

Shivery in Russia, 184

South-Sea Bubble, 30), 317

Sponze of Syme, 4835

Spring-balances, 103

Squirrel, tame, anecdote of, 137

dleam-engine, supposed varly inven-
lion of, 1U4

Steam, minor uses of, 455

Strawberry-hill, 181

Swans ant swan-upping, 277

Sweetheart Abbey, 572

Swimming, Indian mode of, 16

Swiss Herdsmena, summer time of, 499

Swords, Persian, 196

rs natural history of the, 292,

Tape, manufacture of, 371

Tapioca, 456

Tea io Assam, 58

Temperature of the human body, 403

Tench, tenacity of life in the, 36

Tene:nents, labourers’, condition of, in
England, 137

Thebes, 408

Tiger, love of the, for humau flesh, 99

Time, 462

ke mode of measuring, iu the Exst,

Titles of honour, 478

Tram-roads in Ancient Greece, 153

Travels of Nicander Nicius in England
in the sixteenth century, 95

Travelling post in Russia, 73

Travelling in the American prairies,

Travelling, Tartar, iu Turkey, )-

Trees :—Scotch fir, 17: Elm, 61: Plane,
97 ;Acacia, or Locust Tree, 1435; Wil-
low, 1X5; Chestuut, 204; Oak, 261,
282 s ae 384; Birch, 409; Ilaw-
thorn, 449; Ash, 484
revs, proper management of, 373

Trees, pruning, 439

Trial by ordeal, 39, 53

Tunnel in Shakspere's Cliff, 290

Population, demands of annual in- VARNISHED wares of the Burmese, 28

Velvet, nature and manulacture of,
357

Villages in the mountains of Arabia,
jag |

Voleanic eraption io the Sandwich
Islands, 27-4

Rancrirre, Dr., and the Radcliffe Li-| Waaoons in Germany, 287

Water supplied by machinery and hanil-
curriaye, economy of, compared, 463
Wax, sources and uses of, 42.

R..ilway Rambles :—Burnham Beeches,| Wheat, experiments iu the cultivadon

of, 19

| Whitehall and Hans Holbecin'’s Gate,
l

[uscription on the statue of Memnon, | Rivers, geographically considered, 331,| Willow, economical uses of, 434
3389

351, $o9, JOS, 374
Irish sketches:—the Irish cloak, 401; {| Roads in Russia, 42
Irish beggars, 433; the country girl,|Roads and road-making in the United
473; girls carrying water, 497 States, 207
Iron houses, 320 Roman Peasantry, 329, 393
Irrigation in Afighanistan, 203 Russian Serfs, 63

JAPAN, social state of, 195

Kanav, natural history of the, 8 Shakspere, birth-place of, 273
Kenilworth, 308 Shawls of Kashmir, manufacture of,
Kingstov, Canada, 396 319

SAttTerRns, 483

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

PAGE. DESIGNERS. ENGRAVERS. SUBJECT.
1 Anelay. Sears. Burmese Lathe . . - © © «© «
5 ie Holloway. Burmese Cup .« 6 « © © «
8 W. Harvey. Jackson. Bill of the Shearwater o 8
9 os ’ The Shearwater . + «© «© «© «
13. Shepherd. Whiting. Fuegians . . 6 . eo 8
17 Martin. Murdon. The sharp-nosed Eel . s 6 «
20 SS CO) e

he Hampton. (| Soap-beiling Coppers . «
| Filling Soap-frames .
Andrew. | Cutting Soap. °

235 Anelavy. . ° « ° e
Crowe. Morgan's Mould-machine for Candles

Winds of warm cuuntries, 4]5

Windsor as it was, J11, 119

Wines male in the United States, 63

Wines of the fonian Is!ands, 402

Wolsey after his fall, 226, 233, 247

Wood rafts on the Enz iu Germany,
20

Woods, ommameutal, used ia the arts,
135

Woodeock, Elizabeth, 72

Wyoming, Vale of, 439

PAGE. DESIGNERS. ENGRAVFRE,
« 29 B. Sly. Wragg.
- 29 is Crowe.
- 31 Wells. Wrazy.
- & 4 Sears.
- 3 Timbrill. F. Smyth.
© SF Anelay. Murdone
- 41 4B.Sty. S. Sly.
- 4 ;, ye
- 4... -
® 47 Se ie

—

SUBJECT.
Machine for cutting Candlewicks 2.
Inpping-Machine 2... 2 8
Old and Younes Courtier, No. Ll. a x
Smiihtield Cattle Show =... 6.
Old and Young Courtier.* No.2 0.
The Elm ° ° e ° ° . ° e ° s
Corrobory Dauce « « «© «© . 6 -
The Pike . r) ° e e . ° ° °
Russian Travelling © 2 2. 6 « «
Volvyars . ° . ° e ° e e .
Westminster Gas- works ee ten Me
View through Retort-house 2. 6 ee
CraissMeter 8 ne Se was
Kiasilian Indians . 6 2. 1. 8 ew
Long-room, Custom-house . « . «
The Plane Tree Sf. deh eS, Ves'ae vel
Convoy of Diamonds 6 .« e« « «© «
Ning Pn ° ° 7 . e e e ry

Pilori des Halles, Tiss . ‘ae
Robert Ockhain in the Pi iMory dae
Thomson and his Loeealities 6. 6
Brigands.— From Pineili . oo.

Clock of St. Ann's Chureh, inichouse:
Cloch- Wheel cutting Enuvine ‘ °
Striking Apy iratos ofa ‘Parret Clock ‘

Castine pit ofa Kell Foundry 0.

Old and Young Courtier, No.3.

Natives of New Zealand o.oo...
Bittle of €. vessy ©. © © a *
Sineapore oo. e bes geo Me
The Acacia, or Loe slice Tree a ee
Buthlioy of Westminster Biidee . 0.

Old ind Youny Courtiers No. ee

Herne s Oak, Wiudsor ao te Se

Gak sun Acenient kims, AWainlaie Leanne
Park oo. 1), .

Peussin, from a Portrait ie iat «lf.
Taaviers; Peasants of the Department
of Lure; Chateau Gaillard; Evieux:
Pont Audemer oo. 6 2. 8 8

Boateon the Ginger oo.

Juterior of Mesers. Biculwood a actayy

—West Comral range oo. 6 6 ey
Ke ‘y cutter at work ; . 8 © «@
Treble-action of Square Pianoforte .
FreCeutter at work : Ae
Internal Mechanism of a ( cabinet Piano-

forte e . . ‘ . ° e ° e

Sarrender of ¢ alai®. ‘ .
Strawberry Hill, View from Garden .

Interior of Library.
The Wiliaw ee tee le? eo Pe Ae. fens Vo
Santiave, Chile ar si os
Pootof Man and of Orang: v tan. .
Old and Youne Courtice ‘T. No.3. 6 oe
Whitehall and Holbeinu's Gate honse ,
Comypensttion Balance . 6. ke
Battle of Postiers 2. 6 eg ee
The Bdible Chestnut 2.0.0. 0.
Jewves and Blo.som ofditte . o.oo.) .
Nechinwer Mills Leather: Manufactory,

Bermondsey . oo. 6 5 kee

Drawing Goatshins 2,
Vohairnae a Goat-skin .

e » e e
Samach Tantub oo. . 0. 8 8 ee
Leather-splitting Machine o.oo. ee
Stasin’? tawed leather Be: Os Je. ck? Se
Qylewather Fulling stocks ee oh
‘Tecrace Cultivation ° e ° e ° e
Old and Young Caurtiers NooG. oo.
Sued, from the Sen res a es ak
Sandwich Islanders... 8 ee
Ruins of Leicester Abbey a aa oe”
Hatabarch fromthe Alster . oo...
Old and Young Courtier, Na.7. 2.
The Trout. 6 2 8 ke e
Coppersinith’s Shop 6. ew wes
Lead Foundry . 6 2 6 « « « 8
Lead Mill and Frame . a ca ae
Mould tor casting Lead Pipe oo...
Drawing-beneh tor Pipes... 6
Drilling: Machine 3 6 & © @°«%
Serew-euttng Lathe . 2. 2 6 ee
Brivands * ° e e e e e e .
Oak "Tree ° . . e
luterior of a Nootka: ‘Sound Dw elling e
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DFSIGNERS,
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THE PENNY MAGAZINE

OF THE

Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge.

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[View of Boston Bay, from Winter's Hill,—From a Drawing taken on the Spot.)

PORT LINCOLN, SOUTH AUSTRALIA.

Tue town of Port Lincoln is an offshoot of one of the
youngest of our colonies. The act for constituting the
portion of New Holland now called South Australia
into a British province was passed in August, 1834.
The first vessel which sailed for the new province,
then without a single colonist, was despatched from
London in February, 1836, and before the lst of May
was succeeded by two or three others, which conveyed
the surveying staff for examining the coast and select-
ing a site for the principal settlement; besides other
persons whose duty it was to make preparations for the
more convenient reception of emigrants. The site of
the first town was chosen on the eastern side of the
Gulf of St. Vincent; and here the city of Adelaide, the
capital of South Australia, has arisen with a rapidity
hitherto unknown in the history of British colonization.
In less than five years the rental of the houses in Ade-
laide amounted to 20,0007. a year: it is not, however,
our intention to give an account here of this place, but
of a town which has sprung up still more recently.
Our cut represents Boston Bay, taken from the back
of Port Lincoln, on the western shore of Spencer’s
Gulf, an inlet of much greater extent than the Gulf of
St. Vincent. A glance at the cut will enable the
reader to understand the situation of Boston Bay. It
comprises an area of about fifty square miles at the
head of Spencer's Gulf, the coast here forming the base
of an equilateral triangle about two hundred miles in

No. 626. ; r

extent, and the town of Port Lincoln being situated
near the apex of the peningula. Boston Island stretches
across the bay, having an’ opening on the north-east,
formed by the northern end of the island and a part of
the mainland called Boston Point. The sonthern
entrance is formed by two islands called the Brothers
(separating Spalding Cove from Stamford Hill), and
the southern part of Boston Island. From the head of
the bay to Stamford Hill is fifteen miles, while from
the centre of Boston Island to the town of Port Lincoln
(situated on the extreme right of the cut) the distance
is from four to five miles. There are no dangerous
reefs nor sunken rocks, and the bay is completely land-
locked. By keeping about three-quarters of a mile
from the northern point of Boston Island, there are
always from seven to thirteen fathoms water. This
bay has been compared to the magnificent harbours of
Rio Janeiro and Toulon.

The advantageous situation of Port Lincoln was
overlooked when the surveying expedition was in
search of a site for the capital, but it was not destined
to be long neglected. arly in J839, a gentleman

whose judgment in the selection of land was en
appreciated by many of the settlers at Adelaide, left
that place for Boston Bay to examine the district with

a View of obtaining a special survey for four thousand
acres; but he was cunningly, if not very honourably
outwitted, during his absence, by some persons who
had sufficient confidence in the soundness of his views
to be fully aware that they might safely be guided by

: | Vou. XI.—B

2 THE PENNY

his judgment; and when he returned, he found that
they had anticipated him in the demand of a specias
survey for the particular district which he had visited,
and he had thercfore no alternative but that of content-
ing himself with a special survey which gave him the
choice of selecting the second four thousand acres. In
February, 1839, the first settler arrived; in March the
site of the town was selected, and it was immediately
laid out in terraces, squares, strects, &c., the main
thoroughfares being a hundred feet wide, and the
secondary ones thirty-seven feet. The town has a har-
bour frontage three miles in extent. Here the half-
acre sections are very valuable, and would have fetched
several hundred pounds as soon as the survey was com-
pleted. Abundance of the purest water was found at
depths varying from two to eight feet in depth, and in
some instances flowing in a stream over the beach.
The district is watered by two rivers, the Tod and the
Hindmarsh. Besides the above advantages there were
discovered beds of excellent oolite or freestone, not in-
ferior to that found at Bath, and which is expected to
become an article of export to other parts of Australia ;
lime was very easily obtained; and the red gum-tree,
which is well adapted for building purposes, grew
In abundance in the vicinity. With the exception of
iron, materials of the best quality for building were all
found on the spot, and the houses at Port Lincoln are
the best and most substantial in South Australia.

In May, 1840, upwards of thirty houses had been
erected ; and in March, 1841, there were nearly sixty
inhabited houses, besides others that were not com-
pleted. Gencrally speaking, the settler in a new coun-
ity is glad at first to obtain the shelter of a log-house.
The population of Port Lincoln, in May, 1840, was about
270; but it has no doubt since increased in an equal
Pehovion with the increase of houses, and probably
at the present time may contain five hundred inhabit-
ants. A church has been built, an infant-school esta-
blished, and a newspaper is published weekly. Agri-
cultural and pastoral pursuits are carried on in the
‘bush,’ that 1s, in the unsettled parts of the district,
where there is a tract of fertile soil of considerable
extent, quite sufficient to support a large town at Port
Lincoln ; and there are besides some excellent sheep-
walks and rich and beautiful tracts adapted for pas-
toral pursuits. Besides these resources, the town of
Port Lincoln will derive thé means of prosperity and
wealth from the whale fishery, as it is well adapted
for becoming an outfitting port for this species of
enterprise ; and there are eood nautical reasons for its
claims as the best shipping-port for oil to Europe tor
the whole of the western coasts of South Australia,
which abound in stations favourable for carrying on
the fishery. Boston Bay was well known to the
French and American, as well as to the English
whalers, before it was settled. They resorted to the
bay for wood and water; and since the town has sprung
up, they are now supplied with fresh provisions, in-
stead of being compelled to proceed to more distant
parts. In October, 1840, when our sketch was taken,
there were in the bay, or had visited it during the
month, Le Nil, 400 tons; La Reunion, 400 tons;
L’Aglae, 350 tons; L’Indien, 400 tons; the Hudson,
500 tons; the Recovery, 600 tons; the Lord Sid-
mouth, and other whalers and merchant vessels.
The Recovery took in wood and water in two
days, and Le Nil conveyed on board three hundred
barrels of water in thirty hours. Whales are caught
in the bay opposite the houses. Our cut exhibits the
pursuit of one of these animals by the boats of Le Nil;
also the boats of La Reunion conveying water on
board. The anchorage of the vessels, in 5} fathoms, is
correctly given. A Company has been formed at Port
Lincoln for the prosecution of the whale fishery ; and

MAGAZINE. (JANuARY I,
with the ardour that distinguishes the hopefulness ot
colonists, the inhabitants of Port Lincoln are looking
forward to the period when their town will be the
Liverpool of South Australia; and why should not this
hope be realised? Here are elements of prosperity
which need only the combined energy of intelligent men
to render them of social value. The climate is propitious
to the vine, the orange, dates, peaches, and melons, and
to the less luxurious but perhaps more valuable crops
of more temperate climates. Doubts may be reason-
ably entertained of the salubrity of some of portions of
South Australia ; but at a dinner, given in May, 1840, at
Port Lincoln, to Colonel Gawler, the governor of South
Australia, he said :—‘I never saw a spot or heard of a
climate more calculated to restore debilitated constitu-
tions.” In less than a century there will probably be
found all round the shores of New Holland flourish-
ing communities of intelligent and enterprising men
speaking the English tongue. Possessing, in an extra-
ordinary degree, the power of producing commodities
for which there is always a great demand, such com-
munities create a corresponding demand for all arti-
cles of import of which they stand in need. In 1840,
the imports of wool from the Australian colonies
amounted to nearly ten million pounds, which is only
about one-fifth of the quantity we require beyond that
which is supplied by our own flocks. The exports of
British produce and manufactures to the same colonies
exceeded 2,000,000/. in the same year. In proportioa
to its population the colony of New South Wales hasa
commerce four times greater than the Canadas; and
the industry and resources of Van Diemen’s Land give
rise to an external demand six times greater than the
Canadas.

MENTAL DIVISION OF LABOUR.—THE
FRENCH NUMERICAL TABLES.

THERE is a celebrated set of mathematical tables nor.
existing in manuscript in France, the history of which
is remarkable, as illustrating the doctrine of the ‘divi-
sion of labour,’ of which the advantages are so well
known in our own day.

The doctrine here aliuded to was first clearly stated
by Adam Smith, in his ‘ Wealth of Nations.’ It relates
to the desirability of subdividing any great work, any
great effort of mental or bodily labour, into portions
requiring different kinds and degrecs of ability, in
order that no one of the persons employed should ex-
pend his time and attention on matters beneath his

owers. Smith states that “the greatest improvement
in the productive powers of labour, and the greater
part of the skill, dexterity, and judgment with which
it is anywhere directed or applied, seem to have been
the effects of the division of labour ;” and he considers
the nature of this improvement to be shown in threc
different ways: first, by reducing every man’s business
to some one kind of operation, the division of labour
necessarily increases very much the dexterity of the
workman, and therefore increases the quantity of work
which he can perform in a given time; secondly, the
advantage which is gained by saving the time com-
monly lost in passing from one sort of employment to
another, is effected by a judicious division of employ-
ments; thirdly, the invention of all the numerous ma-
chines whereby labour is so much facilitated and
abridged, seems to have been originally owing to the
division of labour.

It forms no part of our object here to follow out
these principles to their ree teen in manufactures
(for hick they were especially intended), as illustrated
in pin-making and other branches of mechanical art,
but to detail one notable example of their application
in mental processes,

1842 ]

Most persons are probably aware that for various
purposes of science and art extensive mathematical
tables are requisite, such as tables of the squares and
cubes—the square roots and cube roots—of numbers ;
the logarithms of numbers; the sines, tangents, and other
trigonometrical measurements of angles; and nume-
rous others. Such tables have been computed from
time to time, principally at the expense of the various
governments of Europe, but sometimes at the cost of
private individuals. The names of Vega, Callet, Hut-
ton, Gardner, Taylor, Vlacq, Briggs, Barlow, Bab-
bage, &c. are familiar to mathematicians as the authors
of such tables.

During the fevered state of excitement which fol-
lowed the commencement of the French Revolution,
vast changes were made not only in the constitution
and government of the country, but also in matters re-
lating to science. Among the most celebrated of these
was the preparation of a decimal system of weights,
measures, and calculations in general; and the French
government was desirous of producing a series of ma-
thematical tables which should facilitate the adoption
and the extension of this system. The most distin-
guished mathematicians and philosophers were invited
to construct such tables on the most extensive scale;
and in the year 1792, M. Prony, a man of science, who
died only two or three years ago, was placed at the
head of the commission to whom this office was en-
trusted.

The mode in which the ‘division of labour’ came to
be specially employed in this undertaking is exceed-
ingly curious. The professed object was to produce a
set of logarithmic and trigonometrical tables, which
should not only be adapted to the decimal system of
weights and measures, but should also “ form a monu-
ment of calculation the most vast and the most impos-
ing that had ever been executed, or even conceived.”
The logarithms of numbers from 1 to 200,000 formed
a necessary portion of this labour ; and Prony saw very
well that even if he were associated with three or four
able men, the greatest presumable length of life would
not suffice for him to see the conclusion of the great
work. While occupied with anxious thoughts as to
the mede in which he might execute his gigantic task,
he chanced to gee in a bookseller’s shop at Paris a copy
of Smith’s ‘Wealth of Nations,’ published about six-
teen years before. He opened the book at the part
where Smith illustrates the advantages of division of
labour by reference to the pin-manufacture; and in-
stantly conceived the idea of applying the same prin-
ciple to calculations. He was about that time lectur-
ing at l’Ecole Polytechnique, on a part of mathematics
to which such a division might be easily applied,
and his mind was thus prepared for the reception of
the hint. He then passed some days in the country,
where he formed, in conjunction with Legendre, a plan
of operations. To use his own language: “I gave
myself up to the task with all the ardour of which I
was capable, and occupied myself at first with the
general plan of operation. All the conditions which J
had to fulfil rendered necessary the employment of a
great number of calculators; and it occurred to me to
apply to the preparation of these tables the ‘division
of labour,’ from which the manufacturing arts derive
such great advantages, by uniting to the perfection of
manufacture the economy of time and expense.”

The plan adopted by Prony was to collect three dif-
ferent scts of assistants, possessing three different kinds
of talent, the most numerous body being composed of
persons having a very limited range of ability. The
first section or body was composed of five or six of the
most eminent mathematicians in France. The duty of
this section was, by entering into a profound investiga-
tion of various mathematical doctrines and processes,

THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 3

to select those which were most readily adapted to
simple numerical calculation by many individuals em-
ployed at the same time. This section had little or
nothing to do with the actual numerical work; for it
had merely the preparation of certain formule or forms
of proceeding, which, when completed, were handed
up to the second section. The first section may be
considered as the architects of the undertaking.

The second section consisted of seven or eight per-
sons having considerable acquaintance with mathema-
tics, but not necessarily so profound as the members
of the first section. Their duty was to bring the
labours of the first section to a greater degree of sim-
pacity so as to be clearly understood by the humbler
abourers of the lowest or third section. The forms of
proceeding, or patterns, as prepared by the second
section from the labours of the first, were by them
delivered to the members of the third section. The
latter gave the finished calculations to the second sec-
tion, the members of which had certain means of veri-
fying the calculations without the necessity of repeating
or even of examining the whole of the work donc by
the third section. The second section may perhaps be
likened to master-builders, who put the architects’

lans into a form fit to be understood and worked out
y the workmen.

The third section consisted of nearly a hundred in-
dividuals, who were divided into two parts, neeting in
two workshops (if we may use the term), and making
separately the same calculations, which were thus re-
ciprocally verified. These persons received certain
numbers from the second section, and, using nothing
more than simple addition and subtraction, prewues
the whole of the tables required. It is worthy of re-
mark that nine-tenths of this section had no knowledge
of arithmetic beyond its two first rules, which they
were thus called upon to exercise, and that these per-
sons wére usually found more correct in their calcula-
tions than those who possessed a more extensive know-
ledge of the subject.

Mr. Babbage (‘ Economy of Machinery and Manu-
factures’) observes: ‘‘ When it is stated that the tables
thus computed occupy seventeen large folio volumes,
some idea may perhaps be formed of the labour.
From that part executed by the third class, which may
almost be termed mechanical, requiring the least
knowledge and by far the greatest labour, the first
class were entirely exempt. Such labour can always
be purchased at an easy rate. The duties of the
second class, although requiring considerable skill in
arithmetical operations, were yet in some measure
relieved by the higher interest naturally felt in those
more difficult operations. The exertions of the first
class are not likely to require, upon another occasion,
so much skill and labour as they did upon the first
attempt to introduce such a method.”

These vast tables, which were completed in the
space of two years, consisted of—an introduction, con-
taining the analytical formule and the mode of using
the tables; an extensive table of sines of angles, to 25
places of decimals ; logarithms of sines, to 14 places ot
decimals ; logarithms of numbers from 1 to 200,000,
to 14 places of decimals, and in half of them to 19

laces ; together with other tables comprehended only
by mathematicians.

It was intended to print this valuable collection of
tables, but from various causes the measure stopped
short of completion, and the MS. remained at Paris.
In 1820 the English government proposed to the
Board of Longitude at Paris to print an abridgement
of these tables at the joint expense of the two coun-
tries. Five thousand pounds was named as the sum
which our government was willing to advance for this
purpose ; but the proposal was declined ; a oa great

4 THE PENNY

tables are still confined, in manuscript, to the libra
of the Paris Observatory. A writer in the ‘ Edinburg
Review’ for 1834, while speaking of these tables, says:
—‘‘ The printing of them was commenced by Didot,
and a small portion was actually stereotyped, but
never published. Soon after the commencement of
the undertaking, the sudden fall of the assignats ren-
dered it impossible for Didot to fulfil his contract with
the government. The work was accordingly aban-
doned, and has never since been resumed. We have
before us a copy of one hundred pages folio of the
portion which was printed at the time the work was
stopped, given to a friend on a late occasion by Didot
himself.”

The great work here alluded to illustrates in an in-
structive manner the doctrine which Adam Smith
promulgated. Not only were the time and talents of
the distinguished mathematicians spared from a drud-
gery of calculation altogether beneath them, but the
calculations were actually made with more correctness
and rapidity by persons of humbler talent. A state-
ment appeared in the ‘ Quarterly Review’ a short time
back, illustrating a somewhat similar instance of
division of mental labours. In the great Trigonome-
trical Survey of Ireland, which has been carried on for
several years, and is still in progress, the country is
parcelled out into a number of very large triangles,
which are subsequently divided into smaller ones. The
measurement of the larger triangles requires all the
resources of refined science; but the smaller ones,
after being obtained by instrumental observation, are
worked out by simple addition and subtraction. The
officers of the survey have found numbers of peasant
boys in Ireland who have made these calculations at a
halfpenny a triangle.

HOLLAND HOUSE, KENSINGTON.

Tuts picturesque-looking mansion, the name of which
has been made so familiar to us, in connection with the
memories of Addison and Fox, and of its late lamented
possessor, derives that name from a remarkable man,
who may almost be looked upon as its founder. Henry
Rich, earl of Holland, the favourite of Henrietta
Maria, and the alternate supporter and opponent of
her royal husband during the civil war, became the
owner of the manor-house of Abbotts Kensington,
which had been built by his father-in-law, Sir Walter
Cope, on the death of the latter, and then not only
altered its name to Holland House, but added to the
place most of the peculiar magnificence which subse-
quently characterized it. The two detached stone
pes that we see, one at each extremity of the court

efore the house, as we stand on the foot-path that di-
vides the latter from the lawn in front, are evidences
of the taste both of the artists, Inigo Jones and Mr.
Stone, and of their noble employer, in making the
improvements and additions referred to. But the
earl’s turbulent discontented disposition and his utter
want of a steady principle left him little leisure for
enjoying the comforts and splendour of such a home,
and on more than one occasion the leisure that he did
obtain he would willingly have dispensed with :—twice
he was made prisoner here. We have not space, nor
is it worth while, to follow the career of such a man;
but it may be noticed, as a curious evidence of his
fickle, untrustworthy character, as well as of the con-
fidence that was for a time reposed in him, that whilst
at one period he is found sitting at Charles’s council-
board, at another he comes from the parliament to
Newcastle as the bearer of their famous declaration,
which he reads to the king, not without interruptions
of a disagreeable nature; later still he again takes

MAGAZINE. [January I,
arms in the royal cause, but is suddenly overpowered,
sent to the Tower, and is executed not long after
Charles himself, with but little sympathy from any

uarter. During one of the periods of his adhesion to

e parliamentary cause, Holland House became the
scene of an important meeting. When the Presby.
terian party, in 1647, with Hollis and others at their
head, were vainly endeavouring to stop the progress of
the army towards London, a body of the Independents,
including no less than fifteen lords and above a hun-
dred commoners, advanced to meet their general
Fairfax, and Holland House became the scene of the
conference that ensued. It was there that they signed
the declaration issued by the army; and it was from
thence that they all returned in solemn and imposing-
looking procession with Fairfax to London, and re-
sumed their places in parliament. Soon after this, we
find Fairfax residing here, and during this period, no
doubt, took place the famous interview on the lawn,
between Ireton and Cromwell, on matters of the
highest importance, most probably in connection with
that remarkable paper called the ‘Proposals’ of the
officers, wherein “‘ they provided for the general reform
and re-settlement of the kingdom upon principles of
the largest liberty, both civil and religious, and of a
glorious toleration, which Europe had not yet even seen
in theory.”* Ireton is understood to have been the
author, but to have had the assistance of his great
father-in-law.

The parliament seems to have dealt gently with the
earl's widow, for no very long period elapsed before
Holland House was restored to her, when it became
famous for a new kind of attraction. During the civil —
war, the actors generally fought under the royal ban-
ners, and distinguished themselves by their zeal and
courage. If there had been no other reason therefore,
it would not have been surprising to find them treated
with little favour after the king's failure and death;
but their loyalty was after all the least of their crimes
in the eyes of the Puritans, who generally disliked
their art; so that when a few of those whom the war
had spared met again in London, and began to give
secret representations at their old place of meeting,
the Cock-pit, they were soon stopped, and for a time
imprisoned. The Protectorate seems to have been less
severe upon the “poor players.” They began to play
at various places a little without the town, and gene-
rally in the hall of some nobleman’s or gentleman’s
mansion; among these Holland House became conspi-
cuous.

It was in 1716 that Addison gave a new interest to
Holland House by becoming a resident, on his marriage
with the Dowager Countess of Warwick and Holland.
The interest unfortunately is more of a painful than
pleasant nature. Some one observed at the period,
‘‘Holland House is a large mansion, but it cannot contain
Mr. Addison, the Countess of Warwick, and one guest,
Peace!” The tradition of Addison’s visits, in company
with his friends Steele, Phillips, Davenant, &c., to a
neighbouring tavern, is but a natural consequence:
the place is supposed to be the inn known as the White
Horse. It was said that Addison’s acquaintance with
the countess arose from his having been appointed
tutor to her son, the earl of Warwick, but that has
been denied. Addison at all events took so great an
Interest in the young man’s welfare as to remember
him in his dying moments. Few can have forgotten
that scene. It was in a large but somewhat gloomy
looking room at the western termination of the central
division of the house that the youthful earl, who is said
to have led a very irregular life, found the great mo-
ralist, who had summoned him thither. After a pause,
the youth said, “ Dear sir, you sent for me, I believe,

* ¢Pictorial England,’ vol. iii., p. 370.

1842. }

them most sacred.” | har
said in a low tone ‘‘ See in what peace a Christian can

. -, - ,*
Wis te
‘te '
HAI EN i75
‘0 on Shs
‘ fs

THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 5

and I hope you have some commands; I shall hold | die.”

Besides the portrait in the mansion, a lane

Addison grasped his hand, and | bounding it to the east, called Addison Road, calls to our

memories this illustrious inmate of Holland House.

>
\ Core

Ay Fy Ace

~~ 2 BI very hs * al aati ol

ro 4 pi Uy) vy y pr
f Vv + - PO Pad

(Holland House.}

It was about 1762 that the place first entered into |

the possession of the Fox family, which has bequeathed
to it its latest and not least interesting memories;
when the Right Hon. Henry Fox, afterwards created
Lord Holland, became first a tenant, and subsequently
its owner. Much of the early life of his grandson,
Charles James, was spent here, and in his decline many
a fond remembrance of the place lingered about the
great statesman’s heart. On his last visit to the beau-
tiful and extensive gardens which extend at the back
of the mansion, “he looked around him,” says his bio-
grapher, Mr. Trotter, “ with a farewell tenderness that
struck me much. Every lawn, garden, tree, and walk,
were viewed by him with peculiar affection. He
pointed out its beauties to me, and, in particular,
showed me a green lane or avenue which his mother,
the late Lady Holland, had made by shutting up a
road.” The original mould of Westmacott’s statue of
Fox in Bloomsbury Square stands in the entrance-
hall of Holland House; a fitting memorial, and ina
most appropriate place, of him whose features it pre-
serves to posterity.

Passing over with hurried notice the chief features
of the house, such as the elegant gilt room, considered
one of the most interesting specimens of domestic
architectural decoration we possess of the period of
James I. or his son; the busts and pictures, the latter
including works by a long list of illustrious artists;
the library, above a hundred feet long; and the plea-
sure-grounds, with its poetical and other memorials,
tag a that by Lord Holland commemorating a
visit of the author of the ‘ Pleasures of Memory ’“—

‘ Here Rogers sat, and here for ever dwell
To me those pleasures which he sang so well'—

we transcribe by way of conclusion a passage from a
recent number of the‘ Edinburgh Review,’ having
especial reference to the later recollections of Holland
House, written evidently by one who has been a sharer

of its magnificent hospitality, and of the society of its
aisiiriguisied owner, and of the brilliant circle he loved
to draw around him,

“In what language shall we speak of that house once
celebrated for its rare attract ons to the farthest ends
of the civilized world, and now silent and desolate as
the grave? That house was a hundred a. ago apos-
trophised by a poet in tender and grace ul lines, which
have now acquired a new meaning not less sad than
that which they originally bore ;-—

* Thou hill, whose brow the antique structures grace,

Rear'd by bold chiefs of Warwick's noble race ;

Why, once so loved, whene’er thy bower appears,

O’er my dim eyeballs glance the sudden tears ?

How sweet were once thy prospects fresh and fair,

Thy sloping walks and unpolluted air!

How sweet the glooms beneath thine aged trees,

Thy noontide shadow, and thine evening breeze !

His image thy forsaken bowers restore ;

Thy walks and airy prospects charm no more ;

No more the summer in thy glooms allay’d,

Thine evening breezes, and thy noon-day shade.”
Yet a few years, and the shades and structures may
follow their illustrious masters. The wonderful city,
which, ancient and gigantic as it is, still continues to
grow as fast as a young town of logwood by a water
privilege in Michigan, may soon displace those turrets
and gardens which are associated with so much that is
interesting and noble, with the courtly magnificence of
Rich, with the loves of Ormond, with the councils of
Cromwell, with the death of Addison. The time is
coming when, perhaps, a few old men, the last sur-
vivors of our generation, will in vain seek, amidst new
streets and squares, and railway-stations, for the site of
that dwelling which was in their youth the favourite
resort of wits and beauties—of painters and poets—of
scholars, philosophers, and statesmen. They will then
remember with strange tenderness many objects once

| familiar to them ; the avenue and the terrace, the busts

6 THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

and the paintings; the carving, the grotesque gilding,
and the enigmatical mottoes. With peculiar fondness
they will recall that venerable chamber in which all
the antique gravity of a college library was ‘so sin-
gularly blended with all that female grace and wit
could devise to embellish a drawing-room. They will
recollect, not unmoved, those shelves loaded with the
varied learning of many lands and many ages; those
pone in which were preserved the features of the

est and wisest Englishmen of two generations. They
will recollect how many men who have guided the
pea of Europe—who have moved great assemblies

y reason and eloquence—who have put life into
bronze and canvas, or who have left to posterity things
60 written as it shall not willingly let them die—were
there mixed with all that was loveliest and gayest in
the society of the most splendid of capitals. They will
remember the singular character which belonged to
that circle, in which every talent and accomplishment,
every art and science had its place. They will remem-
ber how the last debate was discussed in one corner,
and the last comedy of Scribe in another ; while Wilkie
gazed with modest admiration on Reynolds’s * Baretti ;
while Mackintosh turned over Thomas Aquinas to
verify a quotation; while Talleyrand related his con-
versations with Barras at the Luxembourg, or his ride
with Lannes over the field of Austerlitz. They will
remember, above all, the grace—and the kindness, far
more admirable than grace—with which the princel
hospitality of that ancient mansion was dispensed.
They will remember the venerable and benignant
countenance, and the cordial voice of him who bade
them welcome. They will remember that temnper
which years of pain, of sickness, of lameness, of con-
finement, seemed only to make sweeter and sweeter ;
and that frank politeness which at once relieved all the
embarrassment of the youngest and most timid writer
or artist, who found himself for the first time among
ambassadors and earls. They will remember that con-
stant flow of conversation, so natural, so animated, so
various, so rich with observation and anecdote; that
wit which never gave a wound; that exquisite mimicry
which ennobled instead of degrading ; that goodness of
heart which appeared in every look and accent, and
zave additional value to every talent and acquirement.
They will remember too, that he whose name they hold
in reverence was not less distinguished by the in-
flexible uprightness of his political conduct than b
his loving disposition and winning manners. They wi
remember that in the last lines which he traced, he
expressed his joy that he had done nothing unworthy
the friend of Fox and Grey; and they will have reason
to feel similar joy, if on looking back on their troubled
years they cannot accuse themselves of eee done
anything unworthy of men who were distinguished by
the friendship of Lord Holland.”

THE LINEN AND COTTON MANUFACTURES
OF APPENZELL.

In the canton of Appenzell, Switzerland, south-west-
ward of the lake of Constance, the production of
woven fabrics of cotton and linen constitutes a branch
of industry, which, both from its importance to the
canion and the peculiar mode in which it is carried
on, presents many very interesting features. We will
collect and present, in an abridged form, such portions
of Dr. Bowring’s ‘Report on the Manufactures of
Switzerland’ as relate to this subject.

The linen manufacture in Switzerland can be traced
back to a period which, considering all the circum-
stances of the case, may be deemed rather remote. As

cally as 1260 a fulling-mill and a bleaching establish-°

ment existed in the town of St. Gall; and by 1308 their
nuinber was trebled. About the year 1450, a certain

[JaNuARy 1,

number of commercial officers were appointed at the
same town, who were bound upon oath to inspect and
examine every piece of linen which came to market,
and to affix thereon a mark expressive of its quality
and current value. By about the year 1500 there ap-

ear to have been two classes of master manufacturers
in St. Gall and Appenzell; one of which consisted of
master weavers settled at St. Gall, and members of a
guild of that town, who employed spinners and weavers
of the canton of Appenzell; the other consisted of
master weavers in Appenzell, who had no connection
with the guild at St. Gall, but sold their linen cloths to
the merchants of that town. :

Soon after the discovery of Amcrica had opened a
new market for woven fabrics, a commercial company
at Appenzell established dyeing and bleaching esta-
blishments, and the cotton manufacture became added
to that of linen. A feeling of jealousy betwcen the
manufacturers of the contiguous cantons of St. Gall
and Appenzell led the merchants of the latter to find
a market for their goods without the aid of the former
as heretofore ; and officers, called E-rperts, were sworn
in to measure and mark the quality and value of the
pieces of cloth exhibited for sale. For some years
the average sale was more than three hundred thou-
sand pieces annually. During the early half of the
last century the manufacturers of Appenzell added
eeveral new kinds of manufacture to those previously
carried on there; such as embroidered linens; gauze
linens, sought after by the Americans as a protection
from the mosquitoes at night; and bazins or cambric
muslins. When the war broke out between England
and France in 1756, the supply of cottons to the East
Indies was greatly disturbed ; and the manufacturers of
“hh geen took advantage of the circumstance to esta-
blish new bleaching-factories, dye-houses, dressing ina-
chines, and calico-printing machines. One of the ma-
nufacturers invented a way of weaving a shirt without
a scam; and another introduced the embroidery trade
by starting a fashion of embroidering the wristbands
of shirts.

For many years after this period, while other
countries were playing at the expensive game of war,
the Swiss manufactures were in a flourishing state;
but when peace succeeded, trade flowed into its old
channels, and Swiss products were somewhat lessened.
The first spinning-machine introduced into Appenzell
(1783) was for twisting the threads for embroidery. A
few years after this a gradual change took place in the
mode of conducting the cotton-manufacture in the
canton. Up to that time the weavers had employed
yarn spun by hand in their own dwellings; but the
astonishing improvements made in the mode of spin-
ning cotton in England enabled the manufacturers to
export yarn from England ata price which rendered
it cheaper for the Appenzell weaver to purchase ma-
chine-spun yarn than to spin it at home or to buy
it home-spun. For some years the new manufacture
was objected to, many persons thinking that it was not
so strong and durable as the cottons made from hand-
spun hte but a different opinion gradually prevailed,
and the intervening time enabled the hand spinners to
turn their attention to the arts of weaving and of em-
broidery, as a resource when their labours as hand-
spinners would be no longer valuable.

In proportion as England invented new machines,
so did the manufacturers of Appenzell find it necessary
to introduce new improvements of some kind or other,
in order to keep pace with their powerful rivals. Ac-
celerated modes of -weaving, of bleaching, and of
dressing cloth were froin time to time introduced, pro-
ducing those results which always follow such improve-
ments, viz. a reverse of fortune to those manvfac-
turers who either cannot or will not bend to the new

1842.]

order of things, but an accession to the wealth of the
community as a whole.

Tt is supposed that the quantity of cotton-yarn im-
ported from England into Appenzell has amounted to
about a million of pounds weight annually for the last
twenty years; but there seems reason to believe that
this quantity will decrease rather than increase, for
spinning-machines of modern construction are ae
finding their way into Switzerland. Hitherto, how-
ever, the factory system is not much acted on in that
country, principally because the inhabitants, from
their fondhiess or individual piety: would submit
with difficulty to the restrictions which they would be
compelled to observe in an establishment conducted
entirely by machinery. _

The working classes engaged in these branches of
productive industry are divisible into four different
section, viz. the manufacturers, the weavers, the
winders, and the embroiderers; and their employ-
inents, mode of life, and social position may be glanced
at in succession.

Manufacturers.—This term is applied to those who
would perhaps be termed masters in England, and who
undertake the entire completion of a piece of cloth.
The humblest of them manufactures only as much as
himself and his family can weave ; but the most influ-
ential employ as many as a hundred weavers or em-
broiderers. These manufacturers sell their goods either
unbleached to the traders at home, or bleached to
foreigners. Thisclass of persons take a great interest
in public affairs, and pride themselves particularly on
their probity and honour. It is this class which fur-
nishes the greatest number of magistrates and paro-
chial authorities of the canton; the magistrates are
not paid, but serve their country from a sentiment of
duty and patriotism. Those among them who are
economical, skilful, and industrious, acquire handsome
fortunes. In their domestic relations the following is
the routine of daily diet, from which their position may
in some degree be compared with analogous classcs in
other countries. They breakfast upon coffee and milk,
butter, honey, or green cheese called Schabziger. Their
dinner is composed of soup and bouts, or a dish of
some floury or mealy ingredient, potatoes, or porridge.
Their beverage is cider or milk. Many of them up
upon coffee, as at breakfast; and they seldom drink
wine, except when they go to the inn on Sunday even-
ings, or by accident on some other day of the week.
There are some parishes where it is the custom to go
to the public-house every evening; but this custom
soon exercises a baneful influence upon the morality of
the younger part of the community, as well as upon
the riches of the whole population. Generally speak-
ing, this class is very economical.

Weavers.—The weavers are generally employed by
merchants or by manufacturers, who buy spun cotton,
and give it tothe weaver. The latter makes it into
cloth, and returns it to the owner, receiving so much
ioe yard, per piece, or per handkerchief, as the price of

is labour. The weaver, as soon as it is possible for
him so to do, purchases a small house, or even a small
estate, the manufacturer frequently furnishing the
means of making the purchase. He then becomes a
Jarmer as well as a weaver, employing his leisure time
in cultivating his ground and raising food for himself
aiid family. This very remarkable system, which for
many reasons could not be acted on in such a country
as England, has some disadvantages as well as advan-
tages. The acquisition of landed property is greatl
assisted in the canton by the system of mortgage whic
exists: it is very easy to borrow moncy upon mort-

age, and by that means to purchase for two or three

undred florins property amounting to ten times the
value. This arrangement has the disadvantage of

THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 7

rendering landed property exceedingly dear; and,
consequently, should the manufacture not continually
prosper, or if the produce of the soil is not valuable,
the purchasers are not able to pay the interest of the
money which they have borrowed, and failures be-
come frequent. On the other hand, this acquisition of
landed property by the weaver has the cffect of spread-
ing the population over the whole surface of the
country, bringing all the soil into an excellent state of
cultivation, and preserving the health of the weaver.
This class of weaver landowners form the great mass
of voters in the popular assemblies; and as they live
in a very retired manner, never frequenting the inna
but on the days which are appointed for popular
amusement, or by accident on a market-day, it is
scarcely possible to predict beforehand in what man-
ner their electoral suffrages will be given.

But there is another class of weavers, who, not hav-
ing the means to acquire property, maintain a lower
rank in the social scale. They are mercly tenants,
and often change their place of abode. They are in
general neither so industrious nor so clever as the
class just alluded to; and their conduct is often irregu-
lar. As the earnings are smaller, and the advantages
of economy less ef Uibatamty among thein, they are
much poorer than the others. They live very cheaply
when obliged to do so, taking only a little coffee or
milk three times a day, with potatoes, the cost of which
does not altogether exceed the amount of three
kreutzers (about one penny) per diem. They gene-
rally make an arrangement with the chief tenant or
farmer to be permitted to cook at his fire, and to
warm themselves in the same apartment with the
fumily: they also assist the farmer in his out-dvor em-
ployments. The old men, the women, and the chil-
dren wind off the thread for the individuals of the
family who are employed in weaving.

The better class of weavers, those first alluded to,
live principally on coffee, milk, oatmeal, and potatoes,
a few indulging themselves with meat and cider on
Sundays. They work about fourteen hours a day; but
this work is not wholly weaving; for portions of the
day are taken up in cultivating their farms, in looking
after their cattle, in carrying their work to the manu-
factories, in warping their yarns ready for the loom,
and in the performance of certain militia duties which
devolve upon them as members of a free state. The
earnings are from two to nine shillings per week; but
the greatest number do not exceed from four to five
shillings, It will be evident that this mode of carry-
ing on the occupation of a weaver is ver widely
different from the factory system of England ; but to
trace the relative advantages and disadvantages of the
two systems would involve a lengthened essay.

Winders.—When old people of both sexes, who
have in early life belonged to the class of weavers, can
no longer carry on that occupation, they become wind-
ers; and if they have not enongh employment in
winding off thread for their friends or relations, they
wind off the chain for the manufacturers, and earn
from three to nine kreutzers (i.e. from one to three
pence) per day.

Embroiderers.—This class of workpeople consists
principally of women and young lads. The merchants
who deal in embroidered goods purchase plain mus-
lins and choose or sketch ornamental patterns. These
patterns are then engraved by the best artists, and
printed or stamped upon the muslin. The stamped
muslins being handed over to the embroiderers, each
person takes a certain part, so thata piece of embroi-
dery, where there are three or four different figures or
patterns, passes through the hands of as many work-
men. The embroiderers earn, on an average, about
eighteen kreutzers (six or seven pence) per day.

8 THE PENNY MAGAZINF

This very small canton, whose superficial area is not
inuch above four geographical square miles, is supposed
to contain ten thousand looms, the produce of which
forms almost the entire wealth of the carfton, pays for
all the imposts, and keeps the canton out of debt.

THE KAHAU.

Tre Kahau (Semnopithecus Larvatus) is, in many
respects, the most singular and anomalous species, not
only of the present genus, but even of the entire family
of Simize. This extraordinary creature, of which the
annexed engraving, taken from a fine specimen pro-
cured by the late Sir Stamford Raffles, and by him de-
posited in the museum of the Zoological Society, pre-
sents a very accurate likeness, is an inhabitant of the
great island of Borneo, and, according to M. Geoffroy
St. Hilaire, of Cochin China, and even of the western
peninsula of India. . It is probably the largest species
of the genus, the body of the full-grown male attaining
very nearly the size of an ordinary man, and evidently
possessed of great muscular power. The females are
considerably smaller, as is generally if not universally
the case among the Quadrumana ; they likewise differ
from the males in other respects, which will be noticed
hereafter, and which at first sight appear so distinctive
as to have led Messrs. Vigors and Horsfield to describe
the sexes as different species.

The entire height of this animal, when standing ne
right, exceeds three feet six inches; the length of the
body is two feet six inches, and of the tail two feet three
inches. The body is large and robust; the head round
and rather flattened, with a low forehead; the eyes
are large and well of alee from one another, and
are unaccompanied either with brows or inferior eye-
lashes; the mouth is very large, and furnished with
long powerful canines and strong brvad incisor teeth;
the ears, though naked, like the face, palms of the
hands, and soles of the feet, and of the same dark
blue colour, are concealed by the long hair of the
head; and the neck is extremely short and thick,
and apparently deformed by a goitre-like protube-
rance, in all probability caused by the laryngal sacs,
which Wurm informs us exist in this species as well
as in the orangs, and which are reproduced in the
siamang and others of the true apes. But the most
extraordinary and anomalous trait in the physiog-
nomy of the kahau is the enormous and dispropor-
tioned size of the nose, which has a most ludicrous
alert when viewed in relation to the dimensions
of the animal, and almost impresses the spectator with
the idea that nature intended it as an extravagant cari-
cature upon that organ in the human subject. The nose
of the kahau in fact is not flattened, and as it were ru-
dimentary, as in the other Simi, but even more pro-
minent than in man, and prolonged beyond the mouth
in such a manner as to forma kind of small proboscis,
a resemblance which has even procured it the name of
the proboscis-monkey from some naturalists.

The body of the kahau is covered with hair of a red-
dish brown or dull chestnut colour, deepest on the back
and flanks, light orange upon the chest, and greyish-
fawn on the belly, thighs, legs, and arms, as well on
the outer as on the inner surfaces. These colours are
less apparent and not so strongly contrasted in the
females as in the males, and the latter sex is likewise
marked on the loins by a number of large rectangular
spots, producing a bizarre variegation, of which it is
difficult to convey a clear idea in words, but which is
very striking in the animal. The females are destitute
of these diversified marks, the loins and back being of
a uniform reddish-brown colour; the nose also is
much smaller in proportion and less prominent than
in the other sex, and has a recurved ur puggish form,

(JANUARY I?

scarcely surpassing the mouth in length, whercas
it has rather a drooping aspect in the males, aad is
mer considerably prolonged beyond the upper lip.

his very remarkable animal has been described by
Wurmb, in the ‘ Memoirs of the Society of Batavia,’
from specimens which he had himself shot in the island
of Borneo; and as his account is the only one on re-
cord, derived from original observations, or which pro-
fesses to relate the habits of the kahau in his native
forests, we shall give the most interesting part of it in
his own words :—

“These animals,” says he, “associate together
in numerous companies: their cry, which is ex-
tremely loud and grave, distinctly pronounces the
word kahau, and it is doubtless from this circumstance
that some Europeans, by changing A into 5, have sup-

‘| posed the name of the animal to be kabau. The natives

of Pontiana in Borneo, however, in the woods sur-
rounding which town they are sufficiently numerous,
give them the name of bantajan, on account of the pe-
culiar form of their nose. They assemble together
morning and evening, at the rising and setting of the
sun, and always on the banks of some stream or river:
there they may be seen seated on the branches of
some great tree, or leaping with astonishing force
and rapidity from one tree or branch to another
at the distance of fifteen or twenty feet. Jt is a
curious and interesting sight; but I have never re-
marked, as the accounts of the natives would have you
believe, that they hold their long nose in the act of
Jumping; on the contrary, I have uniformly observed
that on such occasions they extend the legs and arms
to as great a distance as possible, apparently for the
purpose of presenting as large a surface as they can to
the atmosphere. The nature of their food is unknown,
which renders it impossible to keep them alive in a
state of confinement. They are of different sizes;
some are even seen which do not exceed a fovt in
height, though they have already become mothers, and
are engaged in nursing their young. When seen from
above, the nose of this animal has some resemblance to
a man’s tongue, with a longitudinal ray running down
the centre. The nostrils are oblong, and the creature
has the power of distending them with air to the ex-
tent of a full inch or upwards. The brain is in all
respects similar to that of the human subject; the
lungs are as white as snow ; the heart is surrounded by
a great quantity of fat, and this is the only situation in
which that substance is found. The stomach is of an
extraordinary size and of an irregular form, and there
ig a sac beneath the skin of the neck, which extende
from the lower jaw to the clavicles.

1842!

FROISSART AND HIS ‘CHRONICLE,

No.

[r is not often that we are so fortunate as to obtain the
facts of genuine history with the interest that belonzs
to romance,—that we are able, centuries after the
period in which the chief actors lived and died, to
revive them at will in the pages of the narrator of their
deeds,—to become familiar with their aspect, their
manners, their actual individual selves, to see and
hear, in short, rather than read of them; yct what
lover of Froissart but remembers how pre-eminently
these are his characteristics? Who ever sat down to a
perusal of the ‘Chronicle’ without feeling the consum-
mate mastery of its author absorb him in all the pic-
turesque details of the chivalry of the middle ages?
Certainly, Froissart is no historian in the present accep-
tation of the word, which implies a searching and phi-
losophical inquiry into the causes of events ; no writers

No. 627.

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

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ot his period were: neither is he a moralist testing ah
things by the simplest and most unchanging rules of
right and wrong, and praising or condemning accord-
ingly; had he been so, he would never have been
able to obtain the materials for his labours, nor we to
enjoy the fruit thereof; but in what he endeavoured to
be, and in what he is,—the most faithful and attractive
of historical painters,—he stands confessedly without a
rival. The brilliancy of the knighthood, the cruelty oi
the warfare, the supertitious credulity of the religion,
and the poetical sentimentality of the fate, of the four-
teenth century, are described by him in such vivic,
yet withal such exquisitely simple language, that it
may be reasonably doubted whether any other period
of equal importance has ever been made so well
known, or s0 interestingly, in a]l its essential features,

Vou. XI.—C

10 THE PENNY
by asingle man. Such is a brief vicw of the author
to whom we propose to devote a series of papers com-
mencing with a short notice of the principal events of
his life.

And never were life and writings more in harmony
with each other :—and in that fact we have the grand
secret of Froissart’s success. Although led by circum-
stances into the priesthood, and deriving from thence
emoluments which he could not afford to give up; from
his earliest years to his latest we find him ever sur-
rounded by the symbols or the realities of all that
forms the subject of his great work. He was born at
Valenciennes about 1337, and his father was a herald-
painter; in whose workshop—or, to dignify the place
With a name more consonant to the repute of the pro-
fession, studio—we may imagine the boy often stand-
ing by his parent’s side, watching the progress of the
emblazoning of some splendid garb or device, and de-
Vouring with eager ears a romantic or spirit-stirring
tale of the good knight its future owner, and the great
events with which be had been connected. Froissart
expressly says that in the knowledge of such things he
had “always taken greater pleasure than in anything
else.” Of his personal tastes in the ony part of his
lite he has left us an amusing account. From the age
of twelve, “ Well I loved,” he says, ‘ to see dances and
carollings, well to hear minstrelsy and tales of glee,
well to attach myself to those who loved hounds and
hawks, well to toy with my fair companions at school ;
and incthought 4 had the art well to win their grace.”
No donbt of it. We may judge from the joyous spirit
of Froissart’s character generally, that he must have
been a pleasant acquaintance throughout his life to his
“ fair companions.”

In a still move piquante passage, he says, “TI took
great pleasure in drinking, and im fair array, and in
delicate and fresh cates. I love to sce (as is reason)
the carly violets, and the white and red roses, and also
chambers fairly lighted ; justs, dances, and late vigils;
and fair beds for refreshment; and for my better re-
pose, a night draught of Claret or Rochelle wine, min-
gled with spice.” It is curious enough that Froissart’s
career was one above all others singularly calculated
to afford him the means of gratifying such desires, and
that without any danger of making a mere sensualist of
him. From the time that he began to write at the in-
stigation “of his dear lord and mastcr, Sir Robert de
Namur, knight, lord of Beaufort,” whilst yet scarcely
twenty years of age, he spent nearly the whole of his
life in wandering about Europe—France, Germany,
Wales, Scotland, and England—collecting information
with an unwearied zeal that of itself would have de-
served our admiration and respect, even if he had never
made the admirable use of it that he has. And seldom
did the baronial fortress, the gates of which were ever
opea to him, admit a more welcome guest. Deeply
read in the romances of his age, a poet who could
throw off almost spontaneously now some spirited lyric
to animate the baron at his festal buard, now some ten-
der effusion to charm his lady in her bower, an histo-
rian who could expatiate with every warrior he met,
on all that the warrior most loved to hear of, no won-
der that Froissart was admitted into the confidence of
all, or that his pages reflect so much of the bright side
of chivalry. the first cause of his leaving his native
country, however, appears to have been an unsuccess-
ful attachment, wich is continually referred to in his
poetry. In one of his poems he describes himself as
called upon by Mercury to revise the judgment of
Paris; he does so, and confirms it. Venus, in conse-
quence, promises him a mistress more beautiful than
Helen, and of such high birth, that, from the scene of
the poem to Constantinople, there was not earl, duke,
king, nor emperor who would not have esteemed him-

MAGAZINE,

self fortunate in obtaining her. The young maiden
thus referred to, it appears, had invited Froissart to
read with her the romance of ‘Cleomades,’ and in so
doing the young poet found the materials of a new
romance, of which he was to be the unhappy hero. After
a time Froissart lent to his mistress the romance ot
‘Baillou d Amours,’ in which, on opening it, she found
a ballad that spake but too plainly Froissart’s passion.
She was married not long after, and Froissart in his
despair was ill for some months. On his recovery he
wisely determined to quit the scene; so immediately
departed for England, making rondeaus and verses all
the way on the subject of his love, undisturbed by
the tempest that was raging.

In England he found a warm and constant friend,
the queen of Edward III., Philippa of Hainault, who
had in many respects tastes congenial with his own.
Queen's College, Oxford, was founded, for instance,
by her, and attests to this day her love of learning and
literature. By Philippa Froissart was appointed se-
cretary or clerk of her chamber, but his duties seem
to have comprised no more abstruse or dry avocations
than the composition of love romances for his royal
Inistress’s amusement. And these were relieved by
long excursions that she permitted him to make at her
expense to Scotland and different parts of Europe. In
his travels through Scotland he rode on a palfrey,
which bore his portmanteau, his only equipage, and
was attended by a greyhound, his only follower. But
already he was known as an historian and poet, and he
required no other passports to the court of David II.,
or to the scarcely less regal palace of Dalkeith, where
he was entertained by William, carl of Douglas, for
fifteen days. In this magnificent castle he became ac-
quainted with many of the eminent men he celebrates
in his history. In his European travels of this period
he, in 1366, accompanicd the Black Prince as far as
Dax,* in his expedition to Spain, but from thence was
sent home to England by the Prince, for what reason
docs not appear. Soon after we find him again wan-
dering. In 1368 he was present at Milan, on the mar-
riage of Lionel, duke of Clarence, second son of Ed-
ward IIIJ., to the daughter of the Duke of Milan, and
at the splendid entertainment which Amadeus, count
of Savoy, gave to the English prince on his return.
The feasts lasted three days, and Froissart contributed
no doubt greatly to the general enjoyment. He men-
tions with allowable pride a virelay of his own compo-
sition, which was danced by the distinguished party,
and the present of a good ‘cote-hardie’ (a species of
tunic), with a purse of twenty florins of gold in one of
the pockets, that was made to him by the host, in ac-
cordance with the customs of the times. At Ferrara
he received a similar present from the king of
Cyprus.

About this time Froissart suffered the severest loss
he appears to have at any time known—his good and
kind mistress, Queen Philippa, who died in 1369.
Froissart’s account of the event seems to us exquisitely
touching and beautiful, and may serve as a not unfair
example of his style and powers. “ In the mean season
there fell in England a heavy casc and a common;
howbeit it was right piteous for the king, his children,
and all his realm ; for the good qucen of England, that
so many good deeds had done in her time,and so many
knights succoured and damsels comforted, and had so
largely departed of her goods to the pcople, and natu-
rally loved always the nation of Hainault, the country
where she was born, she fell sick in the castle of
Windsor ; the which sickness continued on her so long
that there was with her no remedy but death. And
the good ladye, when she knew and perceived there

(JANUARY 8,

* In Gascony, now in the department of Des Landes.

1842.}

was with her no remedy but death, she desired to
speak with the king her husband; and when he was
before her, she put out of her bed her right hand, and
took the king by his right hand, who was right sor-
rowful at his heart. Then she said, ‘Sir, we have in
peace, joy, and great prosperity used our time toge-
ther: Sir, now I pray you, at our departing, that you
will grant me three desires.’ The king right sorrow-
fully weeping, said, ‘Madam, desire what you will, I
grant it.’ ‘Sir,’ said she, ‘I require you, first of all,
that all manner of people, such as I have dealt withal
in their merchandize, on this side of the sea, or beyond,
that it may please you to pay everything I owe to them
or to any other. And, secondly, Sir, all such ordinance
and promises as I made to the churches, as well of this
country as beyond the sea, where I have had my devo-
tion, that it may please you to accomplish and fulfil the
same. Thirdly, Sir, I require you that it may please
you to take no other sepulture, whensoever it shall
lease God to call you out of this transitory life, but
eside me in Westminster.’ The king, all weeping,
said, ‘ Madam, I grant all your desires.” Then the
good lady and queen made on her the sign of the
cross, and commended the king her husband to God,
and her youngest son, Thomas, who was there beside
her. And anon after, she yielded up the spirit, the
which I believe surely the holy angels received with
great joy up to heaven.’’ Who is there can read such
a esate as this unmoved? Who, that would not
rather have one such glimpse of the iron Edward, “ all
weeping,” than a hundred brilliant descriptions of his
Scottish or Welsh campaigns? Such is Froissart.

We must rapidly dismiss the remaining passages of
the historian’s career; which we can do with the less
regret, as we shall hereafter meet with him again in
connection with some of the most interesting. He now
returned to France, where he obtained the living of
Lestines, and during the short time he stayed there,
spent, as he informs us in a very characteristic passage,
five hundred francs arnong the tavern-keepers. This
appears to be the only associated’ memory of Froissart
and Lestines. He next attached himself, most pro-
bably as secretary, to Wenceslaus, duke of Brabant;
and very agreeably the time of their connection passed.
The duke had a taste for poctry; so together the two
concocted a romance entitled ‘ Meliador, or the Knight
of the Sun.’ On the death of Wenceslaus in 1384, Guy
of Chatillon, count of Blois, became Froissart’s next

airon, and subsequently, it is supposed, bestowed on
lim the canonry and treasurership of the Collegiate
Church of Chimay. A eo and epithalamium
written on the occasion of a marriage in the count's
family, remains asa record of this period. The date
of Froissart’s death is unknown, but in all eaves
it touk place soon after the time at which his history
closes,—the death of Richard II., in 1400. The later
years of his life exhibit him in uninterrupted activity—
now visiting the famous Count de Foix, at Ortez ; now
at Avignon, to behold the meeting between the em-
peror Charles VI. and the pope ; now at Paris, to witness
the magnificent entry of Isabel of Bavaria; and now
again in England, to present his ‘ Meliador’ to the
unfortunate King Richard. In short, wherever any
event of more than usual interest is going on, there is
Froissart sure to be found. On his return from this last
visit to England in 1395, he retired to his chapter at
Chimay, where the fourth and concluding book of his
‘Chronicle’ was composed.

Several of the incidents of Froissart’s life are pre-
served in a poem written on a peculiar occasion, namely,
his being robbed whilst on his way from Italy to Flan-
ders; and which caused him a loss he could it endure.
He there represents himself asa man of much expense.
We learn also from it, that the collections for his work

THE PENNY MAGAZINE. - a |

had cost him seven hundred francs, but he has no re-
grets for that expense. With a conviction justified by
the event, he consoles himself with the memorable re-
flection, “I have composed many an history which will
be spoken of by posterity.”

EAR-TRUMPETS anp VOICE-CONDUCTORS.

Tne assistance which the ear derives in the perception
of sounds, by the use of a tube or hollow hody, appears
to have been known in most countries from a very
early pe although the proper mode of explaining
it 1s the result of modern investigation, or, indeed, is
not even yet scttled.

The Greeks appear to have known the use of trum-
pet-shaped instruments, not only for the production of
musical sounds, but also for transmission of sounds of
other kinds: they had a wind-instrument, by the bel-
lowing noise of which the people who were placed to
guard the vineyards frightened away the wild animals,
Kircher mentions a manuscript of Aristotle, preserved
in the Vatican, wherein a description is given of a horn
of prodigious sound, with which Alexander could as-
semble his army at the distance of eight miles. In
another account of this horn, derived from a different
source, it is said, “ With this brazen horn, constructed
with wonderful art, Alexander the Great called to-
gether his army at a distance of sixty miles. On ac
count of its inestimable workmanship and monstrous
size, it was under the management of sixty men.
Many kinds of sonorous metal were combined in the
composition of it.” The discrepancy between these
accounts, the improbability of the described effects,
and the silence of the recognised historians of Alex-
ander on these points, lead modern critics to place no
great faith in the account; yet Beckmann thinks the
narration is founded on truth, however coloured by the
narrators.

Many of the accounts given by writers on this sub-
ject confound the ear-trumpet with the speaking-trum-
pet, two forms which do not exactly agree; for the
ear-trumpet is intended to collect a large surface of
sound, if we may use the term, and convey it to the
ear of one whois dull of hearing ; whereas the speaking-
ley is not intended for persons of dull hearing or
specch, but for the conveyance of sound to a great dis-
tance. Of the latter kind is an instrument described
by Baptista Porta:—“ To communicate anything to
one’s friends by means of atube. This can be done
with a tube made of earthenware, though one of lead
is better, or of any substance, but very close, that the
voice may not be weakened; for whatever you speak
at the one end, the words issue perfect and entire, as
from the mouth of the speaker, and are conveyed to
the ears of the other, which, in my opinion, may be
done for some miles. The voice, neither broken nor
dispersed, is carried entire to the greatest distance.
We tried it at the distance of two hundred paces, not
having convenience for a greater; and the words were
heard as clearly and distinctly as they came from the
mouth of the speaker.”

The celebrated “ ear of Dionysius,” whatever may
be the truth of the story connected with it, shows how
prevalent has been the opinion that passages of par-
ticular construction may facilitate the transmission of
sound. Among the antiquities of Syracuse in Sicily is
a series of chambers and gallérics, apparently hewn
out of the solid rock; and of these the most remark-
able is a grotto, from whence issues a winding passage,
becoming narrower and narrower as it proceeds.
Ancient tradition wills it that this grotto was a prison
which the tyrant Dionysius caused to be built for state-
prisoners; and that in an apartment of a palace,

which stood over the narrow end of the passage, he
could hear everything the prisoners said, or what plots
they formed against him. The idea intended to be
conveyed by this story evidently is, that the passage in
the rock, by getting narrower and narrower as it re-
ceded from the grotto, acted as a voice-conductor, by
which the sound was conveyed to a distance. As to
the real truth of the matter, it seems that Dionysius
did cause subterraneous prisons to be excavated in
the solid rock; but the excavations in question, of
which the grotto forms a part, were occasioned by the
digging for the stones of which Syracuse was built.
The tradition, however, accurately expresses the popular
notion as to the voice-conducting effects of lengthened
hollow channels.

In Beritaria’s ‘ History of the Order of the Jesuits,’
published at Naples in 1601, mention is made of a
speaking-trumpet of extraordinary power, as being in
use among the native Peruvians. In 1595 a small
convent of Jesuits in Peru, situated in a remote corner,
was in danger of immediate destruction by famine.
One evening the superior of the convent, Father Sa-
maniac, implored the help of the cacique, or native
governor; and on the following morning, on opening
the gates of the monastery, he found it surrounded by
@ number of women, each of whom carried a small
basket of provisions. After presenting his thanks for
the welcome supply, he expressed surprise how the
came all to be moved, as if by mutual agreement, wit
these benevolent feelings; but they told him that on
the preceding evening at sunset, the cacique had or-
dered the inhabitants of such and such villages, about
six miles off, to come that morning with provisions to
the convent. Thesuperior asked them in what manner
the governor had warned so many of them in so short
a time, and at such a distance from his own residence.
They told him that it was by the trumpet; and that
every person heard at his own door the distinct terms
of the order. The superior had heard nothing; but
they told him that none heard the trumpet but the in-
habitants of villages to which it was directed. Professor
Robison, in relation to this account, remarks, ‘“ This
is a piece of very curious information; but, after allow-
ing a good deal to the exaggeration of the reverend
Jesuits, it cannot, we think, be doubted but that the
Peruvians actually eeartaasr this stentorophonic art;
for we may observe that the effect described in this nar-
ration resembles what we now know to be the effects of
speaking-trumpets, while it is unlike what the inventor
of such a tale would naturally and ignorantly say.”

In the seventeenth century much aftention was paid
to speaking-trumpets, with a view to determine the
best principles of construction. In Kircher’s ‘ Mu-
surgia, printed in 1650, he describes how a tunnel can
be placed in a building in such a manner that a person
in an apartment where the narrow end is introduced
can hear what is spoken on the outside of the building,
or in another apartment, where the wide end may be.
He states that he had caused such a voice-conductor
to be fitted up in the Jesuits’ college, the voice-end
being in the porter’s room, near the gate, by which the
porter could communicate any message to Kircher
when the latter was in hisapartment in the upper story.
The effect of this tube caused so much surprise, that
Kircher resolved to make further experiments on the
matter, He caused a long tube to be fixed in a par-
ticular position; and from a convent, situated on the
top of a mountain, he assembled twelve hundred per-
sons to divine service, at the distance of from two to
five Italian miles, by reading the Litany through the
tube. Soon afterwards, the emperor caused a tube to
be made according to Kircher’s description, by which,
without elevating the voice, he could be understood
from Eberedorff to Neugeben.

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

[January 8

About the same time an Englishman, Sir Samuel
Morland, took og same subject, and proposed as a
uestion to the Royal Society of London, “ What is
the best form for a speaking-trumpet?” He published
a folio pamphlet on the subject, in which he describes
many forms of speaking-tube which his own ingenuity
had devised. They were in general very large conical
tubes, suddenly spreading at the very mouth to a
reater width. The first which he describes was rather
ess than three feet in length, and made of glass.
Another was made of brass, about four feet and a half
in length, and one foot in diameter at the larger end.
Of this instrument, which he called the ‘ Stentoropho-
nica,’ Morland states (writing about the year 1670),
‘“* There were two trials made very successfully in St.
James’s Park; where, at one time, the Lord Angier
standing by the le wall near Goring House, heard
me speaking (and that very distinctly) from the end of
the Mall near Old Spring Garden. And at another
time, his Majesty, his Royal Highness Prince Rupert,
and divers of the nobility and gentry, standing at the
end of the Mall near Old Spring Garden, heard me
speaking (word for word) from the other end of the
Mali (though the wind was contrary), which is eight
hundred and fifty yards, or near one half of a measured
English mile. orland next made a copper tube or
trumpet, sixteen feet in length, and placed it in the
hands of a waterman on the Thames. ‘Morland then
went to a distance of a mile and a half, where, “ not-
withstanding the noise of seamen and carpenters in
divers ships,” he heard very distinctly several words
which the waterman spoke through the tube. Other
tubes were afterwards used, through which words were
distinctly conveyed from Millbank to Battersea, and
from Hyde Park Corner to Chelsea Hospital.
During the last century many different persons
directed their attention to the construction of ear and
speaking trumpets, with a view to determine the best
forms of those instruments, But individuals who have
no pretensions to science appear to have been in the
habit of using such aids to the voice; rough and ill-
formed, it is true, but witha full knowledge of the
effects likely to be produced, While Dr. Clarke was
travelling round the northern shore of the Gulf of
Bothnia, in Sweden, he met with ‘ voice-conductors,’
where he little expected them. “In our road,” says
he, “we met with a group of wood-nymphs, the real
Dryades and Oreades of these forests and mountains,
wild as the daughters of Phoroneus and Hecate. They
wore scarlct vests with short petticoats; their legs and
feet being naked, and their hair floating in the wind.
In their hands they carried a sort of trumpet, six fect
in length, which in this country is named a lure: it is
used, in the forests, to call the cattle and to drive away
bears and wolves. The sound of one of the dures, being
full and clear, is heard for miles.” These trumpets
consisted of splinters of wood, bound together by a
firm and close texture of withy.

Respecting the mechanical causes which lead to this
augmentation of the power of the voice by the aid of
tubes, we can say but little in this place, for the inves-
tigation is found by scientific men to be beset with many
difficulties. The chief effects, however, may be simply
attributed to two causes, viz. the lateral confinement
of the sound within the diameter of the tube, whereby
itis propagated to a greater distance ina straight line ;
and the reflection or echoing of the sound froin the sides
of the instrument to its axis. As water rushics out
more violently through a narrow pipe than through
a large open channel 80 is sound conveyed to a greater
distance, and with a greater intensity, through a tube
than through the open air. Provided the tube be con-
tinuous throughout, the voice will be conveyed to a dis-
tance, whatever be the fori of the tube ; but itappear

1842. |

that in order to increase the actual tntenstty of the sound,
some peculiar form must be given to the tube, and herein
lies the difficulty of the investigation. If we take-a com-
mon pipe of equal diameter throughout, excepting a
slight enlargement at one or both ends, it is found that
no increase in the intensity of the voice is produced by
speaking through the tube, but that it is carried farther
in one required direction than it would otherwise be.
Thus, the speaking-tubes or pipes which are so much
used in manufactories and large establishments, are
not intended to strengthen the voice, properly speak-
ing, but to direct it in one particular channel, instead
of diffusing its effects in the apartment where tho
speaker may happen to be: it is a simple case of ¢on-
finement in direction, and not of augmentation by echo.
It is known that a voice may be distinctly heard at the
distance of several hundred feet in the Roman aque-
ducts, whose sides are perfectly straight and smooth ;
and an experiment made some years ago, by means of
the water-pipes of Paris, showed still more strikingly
the power of a cylindrical tube in conveying sound to

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THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

a great distance, ane by confining it laterally. This is
in general, more or less, the principle of voice-conduc-
tors and ear-trumpets or tubes, in which the mouth of
the speaker is placed at one end of the instrument, and
the ear of the listener at the other ; the listener catches
nearly the whole effect of the voice. instead of the latter
being diffused equally throughout a room. But in
addition to this, the effect of echo in augmenting the
sound is brought to the aid of the listener, by giving
to the mouth end of the tube such a form as may lead
to the reflection of sound along its interior surface, and
thus to increase the intensity of the sound which
reaches the ear. The peculiar curved form of the ex-
ternal ear is supposed to act in a similar manner, by
echoing suunds emanating from different directions,
and conveying them into the orifice of the ear, In the
speaking-tsumpet, as distinguished from speaking-
tubes, the augmentation of the intenstty of the sound,
by the peculiar form of the instrument, is the immediate
object in view.

(‘Pha Subterranean Cell ia which St. Paul and St. Peter are savd to have been confined.]

THE MAMERTINE PRISON, ROME.

Dorine St. Paul’s first imprisonment at Rome, he
was allowed to remain “ in his own hired house with a
soldier that kept him.” How he was circumstanced
in his second imprisonment, to which he alludes in the
Second Epistle to Timothy, c. 1i., v. 8, we have no
means of knowing with certainty: but the probability
seems to be that his treatment was then much less fa-
vourable than in the first instance it had been. The
old ecclesiastical traditions state that, just before the
end of their lives, the apostles Peter and Paul were to-

ether confined in the Mamertine prison at Rome. Of
this joint imprisonment we shall say nothing, nor of
that of St. Peter in particular. But since it seems that
St. Paul was kept as a prisoner at Rome, and since it
is probable that his treatment was not very favourable,

we are inclined to consider it probable that he was kept
ina prison; and, if so, we are induced to think the
Mamertine prison the more likely to have been the
place of his confinement, from finding it frequently
mentioned in the old martyrologies as the place in
which many of the early martyrs were imprisoned.
The Mamertine prison dates from the earlicst times
of Rome, being constructed, according to Livy, by
Ancus Martius, and enlarged by Servius Tullius. The
lower prison, however, assigned to the latter king, is
supposed by some to have been a quarry, aud by others
one of those subterranean granaries which were used
in very ancient times. Be this as it may, these prisons,
which still exist, offer a striking instance of the dura-
bility of Roman works. They occur on the descent of
the Capitoline Mount, towards the Forum; and near
the entrance were the Scalee Gemoniz, by which the

14 THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

culprits were dragged to the prison, or out of it to
execution. They consist of two apartments, one above
the other, built with large uncemented stones. There
is no entrance, except by a small aperture in the upper
roof, and bya similar hole in the upper floor leading
to the cell below, without any staircase to either. The
upper prison is twenty-seven feet long by twenty fect
svide ; and the lower one, which is elliptical, measures
twenty feet by ten. The height of the former is four-
teen fret, and of the latter eleven. In the lower dun-
geon is a small spring, which is said at Rome to have
arisen at the command of St. Peter, to enable him to
baptize his keepers, Processus and Martinianus, with
forty-seven companions, whom he had converted. They
also show the pillar to which it is alleged that this
apostle was bound. The prison itself, with a small
chapel in front, is now dedicated to him; and over it
is the church of S. Gus de’ Falegnami, built in
1539. Dr. Burton says that a more horrible place for
the confinement of a human being can ee be con-
ceived; and Sallust, in a passage adduced by him, says
that, from uncleanness, darkness, and foul smells, its
appearance was disgusting and terrific. (See Burton's
‘ Description of the Antiquities of Rome,’ 1821.)

ees

THE SYSTEM OF TARTAR TRAVELLING
IN TURKEY.

THe modes of travelling most prevalently adopted in
any particular country furnish a uscful index to the
social progress of its inhabitants, modified, as it often
must be, by the physical condition of the surface of the
land. The saddle-horses of most countries, the mules
of Spain and of the Alpine districts, the asses of Egypt,
the innumerable forms of vehicle employed by differ-
ent nations, the system of posting, that of staze-coaches
and diligences—all furnish materials for pleasant
study, in relation to the locomotive transactions of a
country. .

The system of Tartar travelling in Turkey is not the
least curious among these various methods, and is per-
haps little known in England. Much discussion has
arisen respecting the origin of the name Tafér or
Tartar. We apply it (in the latter form) to those
roving bands of horsemen who dwell in central Asia,
eastward of the Caspian Sea, and who are supposed to
be derived from the same stock as the modern Turks.
There is some reason to believe that it is a kind of
gencral name for a horseman; but be this as it may,
the term Tatar is applied throughout the Turkish
empire toa horseman who acts as guide and cumpanion
to travellers, in a manner unlike anything known in
the other countries of Europe. Turkey, from the con-
fines of Hungary and Dalmatia, to those of Persia
and Arabia, is wretchedly provided with roads. The
unsettled state of the various provinces, the rapacious
conduct of the government officers, and the absence of
cominercial enterprise, all conspire to bring about a
state of things very different indeed from that expe-
rienced in England. Vehicles are few in number and
bad in construction; and therefore the mode of travel-
ling on horseback is that generally adopted

There are three kinds of passports in use in Turkey:
the feskeré, a simple passport; the digranti, of a some-
what higher class; and the firman, which is obtained,
through the ambassador of the traveller's nation,
from the sultan. The last-named kind of passport
gives the right to have a Tatir as travelling com-

anion and protector, and he is much needed. ‘The post-
ing establishment of Turkey consists of a series of post-
houses, placed at various distances apart from each
other, that is, from three to sixteen hours each stage,
extending along most of the great lines of road through-

(JANUARY 8,

out the empire. In these post-houses, horses were
kept originally for the use of government alone, that
is, for couriers travelling on the business of govern-
ment. In time, however, this exclusive system was
relaxed, s0 as to suit the convenience of such travellers
as had interest to obtain orders from the local govern-
ments, or were content to pay an established rate of
posting. The post-master, or Tatir Aga, is allowed a
certain fixed sum from the public treasury, in con-
sideration of which he is required to keep in constant
readiness a proportionate number of horses; and these
are furnished to all government couriers free of charge,
but to other travellers at the rate of one piastre (about
twopence ae penty English) per Turkish hour of
road for each horse. Although this appears an ex-
tremely low rate of charge, yet the traveller is obliged
to have several horses on hire; one for himself, one for
a Tatir or companion, one for a soorajee or groom,
and one or more, according to circumstances, for the
baggage and provisions. The comforts of an English
inn are unknown in Turkey; so that the traveller must
take with him a somewhat miscellaneous assemblage
of baggage ; and the serviccs of a soorajee become thus
necessary on account of the number of horses required.
When on the road, the soorajee generally takes the lead,
conducting the baggage-horses; the traveller follows,
and the Tatir brings up the rear.
_ Such is the general sharacice of this mode of travel-
ling; and the arrangements are so made that the tra-
veller proceeds at a very rapid rate; indeed by the ex-
pression “to travel Tatir” is understood in Turkey to
ouply, travelling on horseback by day and night with
only Just repose enough to maintain the strength of
man and horse. The reader may perhaps have met
with the announcement of a work, three or four years
ago, under the title of ‘ A Winter's Journcy (Tatar)
from Constantinople to Teheran,’ by Mr. Baillie Fraser.
This title can scarcely be understood without previous
explanation as to the meaning of the word Tatar. In
the winter of 1833-34, Mr. Fraser received instructions
from the Foreign Department to prepare for a very
rapid journey to the courts of Turkey and Persia, in
which he would have to pass through the entire breadth
of the Turkish empire. This journey was performed
on horseback, in company with a Tatir; and the
horsemen travelled night and day, in cold and wet,
resting where they could find a Aans or caravanserat,
and journeying on when no such accommodation was
athand. Such a journey is called a ‘ Tatér’ journey.
Although the Turkish empire is here spoken of as
a whole, yet the provinces of which it consists differ
much one from another ; those which form the penin-
sula of Asia Minor being essentially Oriental in their
general features, whereas those of Moldavia, Walla-
chia, and Servia, through which the traveller passes in
going from Vienna to Constantinople, furnish a strange
mixture of Christian and Mohammedan characteristics.
Dr, Boué, who travelled through European Turkey
about five years ago, has given some interesting de-
tails respecting the Tatar system. Of these courier
companions he says, “ They form a particular corpo-
ration, which is much respected, and they are all in-
scribed ina book, and distributed over the whole em-
pire, at the residence of every pasha. There they live
in a house set apart for themselves, called Tartar-han.
(Mr. Fraser spells the word Tatdr; but Dr. Boué,
Tartar.) As they are thoroughly acquainted with
ba aah Turkey, they find friends wherever they go;
and their being armed with pistols and a long hanger
always insures them respect, so that the traveller may
rely on them with confidence. They are in general a
good sort of people ; and though drinking a great deal
of brandy, are always sober when on the road, and only
intemperate when arrived at the end of their journey,

1842.)

or when they have plenty of money, and are in a large
town. Their pay is pretty high, being ten francs a
day. . . . In several pashaliks they may be hired at a
lower rate, even for four or five francs a day, especially
when they are old or out of service.”

Mr. Fraser described the dress of his Tatér as being
curious and picturesque in the extreme; all are, in-
deed, dressed nearly in thesame way. The dress, besides

drawers, shirt, and vest, consisis first of a yooba, or vest.

with long skirts, the upper part of which sits tightly to
the shape, while the lower reaches down nearly to the
heels in petticoat-like folds; the whole being richly
embroidered with silk of a different colour. Around
his waist he binds, first, a simple girdle, and then a
long and handsome silken shawl of various brilliant
colours; over this, in front, is bound a broad leather
belt, in which, and in the shawl, are stuck his pistols
and yataghan, both generally ornamented with silver
and ivory. By athong or belt across his shoulder is
suspended his despatch-box, of leather or velvet em-
broided with silver. A rich jacket, called a Akturk, of
scarlet cloth or velvet, often embroidered with gold
and lined with fur, is worn over these; and in case of
cold or rainy weather, the whole person is enveloped
in cloaks. So far the dress is elegant and picturesque ;
but the shudwars, or riding-trowsers, are an odd appen-
dage. ‘ They consist,” says Mr. Fraser, ‘“ of a petti-
coat of most prodigious dimensions, with the bottom
sewed up, leaving two holes fur the legs to go through.
They are fastened round the waist by a running cord,
and, being pulled up to the knee, where they are tied,
are suffered to fall down almost to the ground; so that
a person unaccustomed to them is forced to hold up the
slack of them as he walks. [Ii isa curious thing to see
the manner in which a Tatir, as he mounts, stows
away the multitude of his breeches before him; nor is
it less curious to see the fashion in which he cords and
bandages up his legs and feet to keep them from the
cold, before he draws over all his huge and handsome
embroidered stockings, which fall down with much stage
effect over the front of his wide Turkish boots.” Such
is the customary attire of the men who traverse every
part of the Turkish empire on horseback, with a cele-
rity, and a capability of enduring fatigue, not a little
surprising. Mr. Fraser mentions an instance of this
in the case of a Tatir whom he met with at Constanti-
nople, and who had formerly served in that pa ag coed
under the British consul. When the news of Na-
poleon’s escape from Elba became known at Constan-
oe the British consul sent this Tatér to Dema-
vend, a place about sixty miles beyond Tcheran, where
the British envoy to Persia was residing; the distance
was nearly two thousand miles, over a mountainous
country of a most dangerous and rugged kind; yet the
man traversed it on horseback in seventeen days.

A few words may here be offered respecting the ac-
commodation afforded to travellers who proceed on
this Tatfr method. Dr. Boué states that those travel-
lers who possess the passport called a firman, and who
are in virtue of it supplied with a Tatar, have a right
to be put into private lodgings by the Turkish com-
manders in villages, as well as in towns; in order to
avoid the inconveniences of lodging in the public hans
or inns. Jn these hans, if the traveller can adapt him-
self to Oriental customs, and is travelling in summer,
a tolerable share of comfort may be obtained, although
not such as would satisfy one accustomed only to
European habits and usages. But as these bans are
often crowded with people, and as the traveller is
obliged to eat and sleep in the same room with others,
it becomes desirable to obtain private lodgings if pos-
sible. This advantage the firman enables a traveller
to procure, by the pasha ordering some private family
vr other (generally Christians, in the European pro-

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

vinces of the empire) to receive the traveller, and to
proves him with bed and board at a moderate charge.
‘he ¢eskeré is a passport of a general kind, enabling
the traveller to pass whither he may please ; but the
Jirman specifics the object of the traveller, who thus
at once gains the confidence of the Turks: for this
Jealous people are ill at ease unless they know the
“who,” the “whence,” and the “ whither,” of every
traveller who stops at their towns and villages.

The arrangements just alluded to, however, relate
principally to those travellers who, being of some note
and station, have gone through the formality of obtain-
ing a firman, and who are in no particular haste. Jnr
such a Tatar journey as that of Mr. Fraser, the case is
widely different. For weeks together he stopped only
when the absolute need of rest compelled, taking up
his abode for a few hours in a wretched hans, or a still.
more wretched cabin, occupied by dirty and poverty-
stricken tenants, who were often induced to afford the
required accommodation only by a vigorous applica-
tion of the Tatair’s whip, for these men exercise a ve
influential sway in the humble villages through which
they pass.

In no other country of Europe is a system of travel-
ling followed similar to the Tatér of Turkey. Postil-
lion, companion, courier, horse-patrol, gen-d'armes,
government messenger, letter-bearer,—none form an
exact parallel to the Tatar. He combines something
of nearly all these within himself, and is part of a sys-
tem found only in the Turkish empire.

Passing-Bell,—The word ‘ Passing,’ as used here, signifies
clearly the same as “depagting,” that is, passing from life to
death. So that even from the name we may gatier that it was
the intention of tolling a passing-bell to pray for the person
dying, and who was not yet dead. As for the title of §soul-bell,’
if that bell is so called which they toll after a person's breath is
out, and mean by it that it is a call for us to pray for the soul
of the deceased person, I know not how the Church of England
can be defended against the charge of those who, in this instance,
would seem to tax us with praying for the dead. Bourne consi-
ders the custom as old a3 the use of bells themselves in Christian
churches, te. about the seventh century, Bede, in his ¢ Ecclesias-
tical History,’ speaking of the death of the abbess of St. Hilda, tells
us that one of the sisters of a distant monastery, as she was sleep-
ing, thought she heard the well-known sound of that bell which
called them to prayers when any of them had departed thia life.
Bourne thinks the custom originated in the Roman Catholic idea.
of the prevalency of prayers for the dead. The abbess above
mentioned had no sooner heard this than she raised all the sisters,
and called them into the church, where she exhorted them to
pray fervently, and sing a requiem for the soul of their mother.
The same author contends that this bell, contrary to the present
custom, should be tolled before the persou's departure, that goods
men might give him their prayers, adding, that if they do no
good to the departing sinner, they at least evince the disiuterested
charity of the person that prefers them. I cannot ayree with
Bourne in thinking that the ceremony of tolling a bell on this.
occasion was as ancient as the use of bells, which were first in-
tended as signals to convene the people to their public devo-
tions. It has more probably been an after-invention of supersti-
tion. Thus praying for the dying was improved upon into pray-
ing for the dead. Durand, who flourished about the end of
the twelfth century, tells us, in his § Rationale,’ “when any one
is dying, bells must be tolled, that the pre may put up their
prayers; twice for a woman and thrice for aman: if fora clergy-
mau, as many times as he had orders; and at the conclusion »
peal on all the bells, to distinguish the quality of the person for
whom the people are to put up their prayers. A bell too mus¢
be rung while the corpse is conducted to church, and during the
bringing it out of the church to the grave.” This seems to ace
count for a custom still preserved in the north of England, or
making numeral distinctions at the conclusion of this cere-
mony ; #.e. nine knells for a man, six for a woman, and three fora
child, which are undoubtedly the vestiges of this ancient injunc-
tion of popery.—Brand’s Popular Antiquities: new edition by
Sir H, Ellis, =~

16 THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

Geology of North-Western Australia.—We here remarked a
very curious circumstance. Several acres of land on this ele-
vated position were nearly covered with lofty isolated sandstone
pillars of the most grotesque and fantastic shapes, from which
the imagination might easily have pictured to itself forms
equally singular and amusing. In one place was a regular un-
roofed aisle, with a row of massive pillars on each side; and in
another there stood upon a pedestal what appeared to be the legs
of an ancient statue, from which the body had been knocked
away. Some of these time-worn columns were covered with
sweet-smelling creepers; while their bases were concealed by a
dense vegetation, which added much to their very singular ap-
pearance. The height of two or three which I measured was
upwards of forty feet; and as the tops of all of them were nearly
upon the same level, that of the surrounding country must at
one tee have been as high as their present summits, probably
much higher. From the top of one of these pillars I surveyed
the surrounding country, and saw on every side proofs of the
same extensive degradation; so extensive, indeed, that I found
it very difficult to account for: but the gurgling of water, which
J heard beneath me, soon put an end to the state of perplexity in
which J was involved, for I ascertained that streams were run-
ning in the earth beneath my feet ; and on descending and creep-
ing into a fissure in the rocks, I found beneath the surface a
cavern precisely resembling the remains that existed above
ground, only that this was roofed, whilst through it ran a sinall
stream, which in the rainy season must become a perfect torrent.
It was now evident to me that ere many years had elapsed the
roof would give way, and what now were the buttresses of dark
and gloomy caverns would emerge into day, and become columns
clad in green and resplendent in the bright sunshine. In this
state they would gradually waste away beneath the ever-during
influence of atmospheric causes; and the material being then
carried down by the streams through a series of caverns resem-
bling those of which they once formed a portion, would be
swept out into the ocean aid deposited on sand-banks, to be
raised again, at some remote epochya new continent, built up
with the ruins of an ancient world. I subsequently, during the
season of the heavy rains, remarked the usual character of the
countain-streams to be, that they rose at the foot of some little
elevation, which stood upon a lofty table-land composed of
sindstone, then flowed in a sandy bed for a short distance, and
afterwards mysteriously sank in the cracks and crevices made in
the rocks from atmospheric intluences, and did not again re-
appear until they had reached the foot of the precipice whtich
terminated the table-land whence they sprang : Nees they came
foaming out in a rapid stream, which had urtdoubtedly worked
etrange havoc in the porous sandstone rocks among which it held
its subterraneous course. What the amount of sand annually
carried down from the North-western portion of Australia into
the ocean may be, we have no means whatever of ascertaining:
that it is sufficient to form beds of sand of very great magnitude,
is attested by the cxistence of numerous and extensive sand-
banks all alung the coast. One single heavy tropical shower of
unly a few hours’ duration washed down, over a plot of ground
which was planted with barley, a bed of sand nearly five inches
deep; which the succeeding showers again swept off, carrying it
farther upou its way towards the sea.—Grey's Journals of his
Expeditiona of Discovery.

Canoes of Guiana.—The canoes which are manufactured by
the Indians consist of the trunk of a huge tree, which has been
hollowed out, partly by the axe, partly by the fire. They are
sometimes from thirty to forty feet long; and are peculiarly
qualified for these rivers, as they draw but little water, and are
less sulsjected to leaking when drawn over cataracts or coming in
contact with rocks, than if they were constructed of timbers. A
covering of palm-leaves is substituted for an awning. As the
largest of these canoes is seldom more than four feet wide, its
load must be restricted; and the baggage is generally placed in
sich a manner that, arrived where a cataract opposes obstacles
to farther progress, it may be unloaded and carried over land.

«+ « « The canoe is flat on the bow and stern; and in order to
prevent the water from getting into it, two pieces of wood cut
according to ils shape are fitted in, which the Indian never fails
to ornament according to his fashion. The corial narrows to a
point towards the stern and bow. Like the canoes, they are
scooped out from the trunk of a tree, and have no keel,—which
indeed would be quite a superfluous appendage, as it would be
soon knocked off by coming in contact with sunken rocks, or

[JANUARY 8,

when drawn over cataracts. The pakasse, or wood-skin, is a boat
merely constructed of the bark of atree. It is generally made
of a single piece of the tough bark of the murianara tree, which
grows to a very large size. An incision of the length the boat is
to possess ig made in the bark, which is removed from the trunk
by driving in wedges: when loosened from the wood, it is kept
open by cross sticks, and is supported at the extremities upon
two beams, in order to raise those parts of the intended boat.
Vertical incisions, at about two feet apart and a few inches in
depth, are then made, and the secured afterwards by
overlapping. It remains for several days exposed to the weather
before it is fit for use. Though the pakasse is so crank that the
slightest motion, when once in, ers it liable to upset, I have
seen pakasses among the Tarumag, in the Cuyuwini, with five or
six Indians in them. Their great advantage id, that being flat,
they can float where a common corial of the smallest description
cannot pass ; and are so light, that in crossing cataracts, one man
can easily carry his boat on his head. When propelled by one
man, he squats in the middle and paddles on either side. Great
care is requisite in stepping in or out of them, as, if upeet, they
sink almost instantly, owing to the great specific gravity of the
— bark of which they are built.—Schombergh's Fishes of
IARB.

An Experiment.—I once knew a boy who was employed by his
father to remove all the loose small stones which, from the
peculiar nature of the ground, had accumulated in the road
before the house. He was to take them up and throw them over
into the pasture across the way. He soon got tired of picking
them up one by one, and sat down upon the bank to try to devise
some better means of accomplishing his work; heat length con-
ceived and adopted the following plan :—He set up im the pasture
@ narrow board for a target, or, as boys would call it, a mark,
and then collecting all the boys in the neighbourhood, he pro-
posed to them an amusement, which boys are always ready for,
firing at a mark, I need not say that the stores of ammunition

in the street were soon exhausted, the boys working for their _

leader when they supposed they were only finding amusement
for themselves. Here now is experimenting upon the mind: the
production of useful effect with rapidity and ease, by the inter-
vention of proper instrumentality ; the conversion, by mears of
& little knowledge of human nature, of that which would have
otherwise been dull and fatiguing Jabour, mto a most animating
sport, giving pleasure to twenty instead of tedious labuur to
one.— Abbott's Teacher.

Indian Mode of Swimming.—The mode of swimming among
the Mandans, as well as among most of the other tribes, is quite
different from that practised in those parts of the civilized world
which I have had the pleasure yet to visit. The Indian, instead
of parting his bands simultaneously under the chin, and making
the stroke outward in a horizontal direction, causing thereby a
serious strain upon the chest, throws his body alternately upon
the left and the right side, raising one arm entirely above the
water, and reaching as far forward as he can, to dip it, whilst his
whole weight and force are spent upon the one that is passing
under him, and like @ paddle propelling him along; whilst this
arm is making a half circle, and is being raised out of the water
behind him, the opposite arm is describing a similar arch in the
air over his head, to be dipped in the water as far as he can reach
before him, with the hand turned ander, forming a sort of bucket,
to act most effectively as it passes im its turn underneath lim.
By this bold and powerful mode of swimming, which may want
the grace that many would wish to see, I am quite sure, from
the experience I have had, that much of the fatigue and strain
pea the breast and spine are avoided, and that a man will pre-
serve hie strength and his breath much longer in this alternate
and rolling motion than he can in the usual mode of swimming
in the polished world.—Catlin's Letters on the North American

Indians,

Berial wn Asia Minor.—The outward mars of respect are
scarcely visible in their burial-grounds, little more being left to
mark the place of interment than a row of stones, indicating the
oblong form of the grave; but a pipe or chimney, generally
formed of wood or earthetiware, rises a few inches above the
ground, and communicates with the corpse beneath; and down
this tube libations are poured by the friends of the deceased to
the attendant spirit of the dead, The custom of hiring women
to mourn with cries and howlings, is also retained by the modera
Greeks at their fuperals.—Fellows's Asia Minor.

1842. | THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 17

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THE SCOTCH FIR ' rugged scenery of the land of the mountain and the

ats 9 ag ; | floo is the pine; and it possesses the same sort of
Wiuzart is called English sceriery detives much of its | national character that the oak claims in England. A
peculiar beauty and character from the noble and | truly national poet, Sir Walter Scott, in the ‘ Lady of
stately trees by which it is adorned. The eye ranges | the e,’ has dedicated one of his most spirited songs
with pleasure over verdant meadows and rests with | to its praise; and our readers will not regret the re-
delight upon the massive foliage of the oak and beech, | production of two of the stanzas in this place :-—
the elm and chestnut, on which the lights and shadows i itaavinn Sie Beall:
are reflected in such rich and varied colours. These i Rarscu# css
trees especially are the appropriate embellishments of |“ Hail to the Chief, who in triumph advances.
a landscape in which the bai of man is everywhere | Honour'd and pless'd gine ever-green P ee : |
visible, and nature appeats in her elegant rather than ac aa ni eat seme Shy Re ia
in her wilder and less cultivated forms. The chestnut, pie an th happy dew; eee

with it rich blossoms and luxuriant foliage, would Earth lend it sap anew

seem as much out of place in a Scottish landscape, Gaily to bourgeon and broadly to grow,

whose outline is marked by the blue heather and the While every Highland glen

bare mountains, as it is appropriate in an English park. Sends ou: shout back agen, |

The tree which of all others best combines with the * Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroe |’
No. 625, Vou. XI.—D

18 THE PENNY

« Ours is no sapling, chance-sown by the fountain,
Blooming at Beltane, im winter to fade :
When the whirlwind has stripp’d evcry leaf on the mountain,
Th» inore shall Clan-Alpine exult iu his shade.
Moor'd in the rifted rock,
Prvol to the tempest’s shock,
Firmer he roots him the ruder it blow;
Mentcith and Breadalbane, then,
Echo his praise agen,
‘Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho! tierce!”

Those who have only been accustomed to see the
Scoich pine ignominiously made use for no other pur-
pose than to screen a house from the ungenial winds,
or to see a number of them planted together to perform
the part of ‘nurses, by sheltering the less hardy trees
and shrubs of the plantation, will perhaps suppose that
the poct has been led away by the fervour of his pa-
triotism. Thickly planted in a heavy clay soil, the
Scotch pine vainly attempts to develop its natural
character. Seen under these disadvantages, it may not
be undeserving of the stigina which Mason, in his
poem of the ‘Garden,’ endeavoured to attach to it.
Gilpin, who had seen the tree on its native mountains,
attempted, in his ‘ Forest Scenery,’ to establish its
character as a picturesque object of the landscape.
But many persons, and even planters themselves,
have mistaken an inferior species for the true Scotch
fir, In an article, written by Sir Walter Scott, in
the ‘Quarterly Review’ (No. 82), it is said:—* We
may remind the young planter, that the species
of fir, which in an evil hour was called Scotch, as now
renerally found in nurseries, is very inferior, In every
respect, to the real Highland fir, which may be found
in the North of Scotland in immense natural forests,
equally distinguished for their romantic beauty and na-
tional importance. This last is a noble tree, growing
with huge contorted arms, not aliogcther unlike the
oak, and forming therein a strong contrast to the for-
mality of the common fir. The wood, which is of a red
colour, is equal to that brought from N orway; and,
when a plant, it may be known from the spurious or
common fir by the tufts of leaves being torte: and
thicker, and by the colour being considerably darker.
The appearance of the Ilighland fir, when planted in
its appropriate situation amongst rocks and crags, is
diguified and even magnificent; the dusky red of its
massive trunk, and dark hue of its leaves, forming a
happy accompaniment to scenes of this description.
Such firs, therefore, as are ultimately designed to re-
main as principal trees, ought to be of this kind, though
it may probably cost the planter some trouble to pro-
cure the seed trom the Ilighlands. The ordinary fir is
an inferior variety, brought from Canada not more than
half a century ago. Being very prolific, the nursery-
gardeners found it easy to raise it in immense quan-
tities; and thus, though a mean-lovking tree, and pro-
ducing wood of little comparative value, it has super-
seded the natural plant of the country, and is called,
par excellence, the Scotch fir. Under that naine it has

cen used penerelly as a nurse, and so far must be ac-
knowledged useful, that it subimits almost to any degree
of hard usage, as, indeed, it seldom meets with any which
can be termed even tolerable. There is a great differ-
ence betwixt the wood, even of this baser specics,
raised slowly and in exposed situations, and that of the
same tree produced upon richer soil—the last being
much inferior in every respect, because more rapid in
growth.”

Another patriotic Scotchman, Sir Thomas Dick
Lauder, defends the arborary emblem of his country
in lanzuaze scarcely less enthusiastic :—* When its
foot is amongst its own Highland heather, and when
it stands freely on its native knoll of dry gravel or
thinly covered rock, over which its roots wander far in

MAGAZINE. [JANUARY 15,
the wildest reticulation, while its tall, furrowed, often
gracefully sweeping red and grey trunk of enormous
circumference raises aloft its high umbrageous canopy,
then would the greatest sceptic on this point [its pic-
turesqueness] be compelled to prostrate his mind
before it with a veneration which perhaps was never
before excited by any other tree.” We presume that
enough has now been said on this part of the subject.
Within a short distance of London there are some very
fine specimens of the tree. Those at Ham House, near
Richinond, are seventy feet high; the trunk four fect
in diameter, and the top eighty feet. The trees at
Whitton, near Hounslow, are above a century old, from
eighty to ninety fect in height, and standing singly,
their forms are very picturesque. There are also some
fire trees at Muswell Hill and Pain’s Hill, on the north
of London. At Dropmore, in Buckinghamshire, there
is a Pinetum, or collection of numerous species of the
genus Pinus.

There are between fifty and sixty species of the
Pinus genus; and some naturalists carry the number
to upwards of seventy. Of the Scotch pine, which is
found all over Europe and a great partof Asia and
Ainerica, there are many varieties produced by the dif-
ference of soiland climate. The Pine of Haguenan, a
village on the Rhine, is the most important of these;
but we must refer to Mr. Loudon’s elaborate ‘ Arbo-
retum Britannicum’ for an account of them. There
are forests of the Scotch pine, both in the plains of
Russia and Poland, and the mountains of Norway and
Sweden; it flourishes in the Alps and Pyrenees, and
in the south of Europe, and has been extensively
planted in England, and especially in Wales, within
the last half-century. When of slow growth, the timber
is heavy, of a red colour, and will last for centuries if
preserved from damp; but in England, where its
growth is usually too rapid, the quality of the timber
detcriorates, it loses its red hue and is almost white,
containing little resin, and cannot safely he madc use
of for buildings which are intended to last for many
generations. But when grown in favourable situations
its value as timber is only inferior to the ouk, and it is
more easily worked. It is uscd by the shipwright as
well as in the building of houses. A specimen at
Gordon Castle in Scotland, one hundred fect high,
contained two hundred and sixty feet of timber exclu-
sive of the branches. The lower branches frequently
decay and fall off; and in old trees the mid-branches
hang gracefully pendent, instead of turning upwards
or being horizontal; but the top-branches ‘ bourgeon ’
freely and amply. The tree will sometimes continue
to grow for two, three, or even four centurics, in a
soil and climate adapted to its nature; but the ordi-
nary period of maturity is fifty or sixty years. The
foliage assumes its proper hue when the tree reaches
its second year; but the young shoots put forth in
spring are of a lighter colour than the old leaves,
which are retained between four and five years. Mr.
Loudon, in the work already alluded to, gives the fol-
lowing statements of the progressive growth of the
Scotch pine :—* During the first year the growth is
three or four inches; in the second, if the soil be
favourable, from four to six inches; in the third year
branches are put forth, and the tree increases fourtcen
inches, or perhaps two feet; in the fourth and fifth
years, if not transplanted, or if they have been care-
fully transplanted in the second year, they make a
leading shvot of from one to three feet.” In the cli-
mate of London, Mr. Loudon says that at the age of
ten years the tree will have attained an average height
of from twenty to twenty-five feet ; and at twenty years.
of from forty to fifty feet. He quotes an instance,
from Evelyn's ‘ Sylva,’ of a Scotch pine which grew to
a height of sixty fect in litiie more than twenty years.

8 ee i ne ee

1812. THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 19

Rer. Dr. Adum Clarke's Experiments inthe Cultivation of
}iheat,—It was truly and wisely said, that he who makes two
blades of grass grow where one only grew before, is a real Lene-
factor to mankind. If this assertion will hold good as respects

‘the food of beasts, it will surcly not fail in regard to the foud of

men. The detail of Dr. Clarke's experiment shows the amazing
production of two grains of what, effected by means of dividing
the shoots thrown up after planting, and again replanting and
dividing them several times. Whether this mode of growing
wheat would answer -in a pecuniary point of view would de-
pend upon the extra cost of labour seal oly with the saving of
seed and the extra production, as to which we have made no
calculation, but believe the increased expense would be greater
than the increased profit, though we have no doubt that there
would be an extra production over the common mode of cultiva-
tion, The proposed plan would necessarily require spade culture.

The Doctor divided the shoots of two grains of wheat in the
autumn, which caused them to produce tive hundred and seventy-
four distinct plants, or two hundred ani eighty-seven plants for
one grain. These five hundred and seventy-four plants he again
divided, or separated the shoots from each other, when he found
that one of the grains, that is, two hundred and eighty-seven
plants, had multiplied itself into nine huudred plants, and the
second grain into nine hundred and sixteen. These, he informs
us, he again planted in rows, ina tield alongside of other wheat
sown in the common way, setting the plants four inches asunder,
and about ten inches between the rows. Tiris operation was per-
formed in the beginning of the spring, and the Doctor intended
to subdivide once more, but there came a severe frost for four or
five nights in the first week of April, and, he not having taken
any precaution to defend the newly planted and tender offshoots,
at least one-third of them were killed. His experiment being thus
rendered incomplete, he did not attempt any further subdivision
and transplanting. “The remaining plants,” says the Doctor,
“ throve, and were very healthy, and, in general, greatly surpassed
the other wheat in length and strength of stalk, and in length,
weight, and bulk of ear, many of them being five aud six inches
long, aud the grains large and well-filled. From this experiment
it appears that a single grain of wheat has almost unlimited ca-
pacity of multiplying itself by slips or offsets. That every slip
possesses in pofentia the full virtue of the original plant, and
that so abundant is its germinating power, that if all the wheat
in Europe were destroyed to a single grain, that grain, by proper
management in the above way, would, in a short time, produce
@ sufficiency to sow all the cultivated surface of the Continent
anc islands of this fourth part of the globe.” Dr. Clarke finally
sugzests that the Irish, who were at the time of his writing in a
starving condition, and whose wauts were supplied by liberal
subscriptions, would be more effectually relieved by giving
them some employment that would be the most likely to be
Leneficial to themselves, and ultimately to the interest of the
nation, This theory of the Ductor’s however is something more
than doubtful, as we have intimated above.

Dr. Clarke was not the first who made the experiment of
planting the shoots of wheat. Mr. Miller, curator of the botani-
cal garden at Cambridge, had the priority. This gentleman
planted a single grain of wheat on the 2nd of June, which was
taken up and divided into eighteen parts, which were again di-
vided between September and the middle of October, and made
then in the whole sixty-seven plants. The last division was
made between the middle of March and the 12th of April; this
produced five hundred plants, that is, four hundred plants less
than were produced in Dr, Clarke's experiment. The five hun-
dred plants of Mr. Miller produced 21,109 ears, and these cars,
by computation, 576,840 grains. We ouglit to observe, that Mr.
Miller's wheat was grown in enclosed grounds (the Cambridge
botanical garden); that the stalks were supported by stakes;
and that the whole crop was covered by nettiug to protect it
from the depredations of birds. On the contrary, Dr. Adam
Clarke's wheat was planted in an open field, beside wheat sown
in the ordinary way, having nothmg to support the stalks or to
protect the grain from the birds. It should also be stated, that
the Doctor's experiment was made iy Lancashire, which is much
colder than the latitude of Cambridge. Upon the whole it ap-
pears to us that his experiment was much better conducted up
to spring, and much more successful than Mr. Miller's.

We may be allowed to observe, that in our opinion, both Dr.
Clarke and Mr. Miller erred iu their mode of conducting their
experiments. No division of the shoots of wheat should have
taken place after autumn. In such case there would be no dan-

ger of its being injured, perhaps killed, by the frosts and cutting
winds of the early spring, and the crop would have more time
to ripen, and would be much earlicr fit fur reapinz.—From a
Correspondent.

Differences of East Indian Population.—The greatest difference
is between the inhabitants of Hindostan Proper and of the Deckan.
The neighbourmg parts of these two great divisions naturally
resemble each other; but in the extremities of the north and
south the languages have no resemblance, except from a coinmon
mixture of Shanscrit; the religions sects are different; the ar-
chitecture, as has been mentioned elsewhere, is of different cha-
racters; the dress differs in many respects, and the people differ
in appearance—those of the novth being tall and fair, and the
others small and dark. The northern people live much on wheat,
and those of the south on ragi, a grain almost as unkuown in
Hindostan as in England. Many of the points of differcnce arise
from the unequal degrees in which the two tracts were con-
quered and occupied: first, by the people professing the Bra-
minical religion, aud afterwards by the Mus-tlmans; but more
must depend on pecaliarities of place and climate, and perhaps
on varicties of race, Bengal and Gimzetie Hindostan, for in-
stance, are contiguous couutries, and were Loth early sul.jected
to the same governments; but Bengal is moist, Hable tu inun-
dation, and has all the characteristics of an alluvial soil; while
Hindostan, though fertile, is comparatively dry, both in soil and
climate. This difference may, by forming a diversity of habits,
have led to a great dissimilitude between the people; the eom-
mon origin of the languages appears, in this case, to forbid all
suspicion of a difference of race. From whatever causes it
originates, the contrast is most striking. The Hindostauis on the
Ganges are the tallest, fairest, and most warlike and imanly of
the Indians; they wear the turban, and a dress resembling that
of the Mahometans; their houses are tiled and built in compact
villazes in open tracts; their food is unleavened wheaten bread.
The Bengalese, on the contrary, though good-looking, are small,
black, and effeminate m appearance ; remarkable for timidity and
superstition, a3 well as for subtlety and art. Their villazes are
composed of thatched cottages, scattered through woods of bam-
bsaos or of palms; their driss is the old Hindit one, formed by
one scarf round the middle and another thrown over the shon!-
ders, They have the practice, unknown in Hindostan, of rub-
bing their limbs with oi] atter bathing, which gives their skins a
sleek and glossy appearance, and protects them from the ctiect of
their damp climate, They live almost entirely on rice; and
although the two idioms are more nearly allied than English and
German, their language is quite unintelligible to a native of
Hindostan, Yet these two nations resemble cach other so much
in their religion and all the innumerable points of habits and
manners which it involves, in their literature, their notions on
government aud general subjects, their ceremonies and way of
life, that a European, not previously apprised of the distinction,
might very possibly pass the boundary that divides them without
at once percciving the change that had taken place.—Ziphin-
stone's Hist. of India.

Milk as an Article of Diet.—¥For those who have healthy and
unsophisticated stomachs, milk appears to be one of the best
articles of diet we possess. It is less stimulating than flesh, and
more nutritious than vegetables. For persons who are disposed
to febrile complaints, and who are not obliged to perform hard
and exhausting labour, it is the most appropriate dict. But the
stomach is acreature of habit. It can become accustomed to
any kind of diet; and sudden changes are lable to derange its
healthy action. To those who are accustomed to what is called
high living, such as strong meats, strong drinks, and high-
seasoned food of all kinds, the transition toa milk diet, which
contains a considerably lowered stimulation, would probably be
an imprudent change. When necessary, the change should be
so gradual that the stomach should by degrees become accom-
modated to it.—Beaumont’s Experiments on the Gastric Juice,

Sc, by Dr. Combe.

Use of Gorse, or Furze.—In the neighbourhood of Birming
ham there are several large dairy establishments in which gorse
ia used as an article of food. There isa small steam-engine
attached to cach, by which the gorse is crushed to a pulp, and in
that state it is given to cows, which soon become very ford of it.
A friend of mine fecds his plough horses almost entirely on this
food, and they both look and work remarkably well.— Corre-

spondent, D2

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

[JANUARY 15,

\ . RNY
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Fr
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“Bandit Reposing.)

ROMAN BRIGANDS.

Our cut is taken from one of a series of etchings pub-
lished at Rome, and entitled ‘A Collection of Fifty
Customs of the Neighbourhood of Rome, comprising
divers deeds of the Brigand: designed and etched by
Bartolomeo Pinelli;’ and is engraved in the broad
style of the original. This Signor Pinelli was a very
remarkable man. His person was as picturesque as
his pictures ; and his adventures, if common report at
Rome spoke iat had been hazardous and romantic.
His designs would be very inadequately described in
being called costumes. They represent the sports, the
occupations, and the modes of life of the peasantry of
the Campagna, and of the popular orders in Rome,
more especially of the Trasteverini, or inhabitants of
that part of the city that lies beyond the Tiber—a
somewhat quarrelsome and unruly people, but hand-
some, athletic, and spirited to a degree that entitles
them to be considered as the real descendants or repre-
sentatives of the ancient Romans. But the subjects
which Pinelli preferred, even to the fiery Trasteverini,
were the brigands or banditti, who were in a very flou-
rishing state in his day, and among whom he is said to
have fallen more than once. He portrayed these heroes
in a great variety of situations, making them, with their
sugar-loaf hats, velveteen jackets, sandalled feet, fierce
countenances, and murderous long guns, almost as
striking and picturesque as the banditti figures of Sal-
vator Rosa, with their morrions and cuirasses of plated
steel, their mantles of scarlet, their glaives and spears.
But into whatever he did, Pinelli threw a wonderful de-
gree of truth and life. We believe he rarely painted,
but he always etched his own designs. It is, mnidecd: upon
his etchings, which are very far from being numerous,
that his reputation as an artist depends. For spirit and
beauty of crewing they have not been surpassed in
modern times. They have claimed the attention of all
travellers of taste that have visited Rome within the
last five and twenty years ; and impressions of his plates
have been carried to every part of the civilized world.
Pineili died at Rome about three years ago, we believe.
tf he had written his own life, he might, it is said, have
told stories of himself which would have rivalled some

' of the adventures of Benvenuto Cellini, as described
by that famous and turbulent old sculptor in Memoirs
of his writing, and which are written with the same
genius and fire that he employed on his best statues ;
or Pinelli might have surpassed the tales told by Lady
Morgan in her ‘ Life of Salvator Rosa,’ which book is
a sheer romance from beginning to end, and with
scarcely more verisimilitude than fact. But we be-
lieve that Pinelli, whose besetting sins were idleness
and dissipation, never wrote anything either abqut
himself or any one else; and we should doubi, from
the slight personal knowledge we had of him, whether
he had any deep tincture of letters.

The brigands upon whom he exercised his pencil and
etching-needle, chiefly abound, or rather abounded
(for, happily, we may almost use the past tense), in the
wild country bordering un the Pontine Marshes and
the frontiers of the kingdom of Naples. There they
were favoured by many local circumstances. On the
side of the Roman states is a wide plain, unhealthy,
and very thinly inhabited, intersected in many parts
with canals, rivers, rivulets, ditches, marshes, and dotted
here and there with thickets, underwood, and forests:
near the seaboard jt is for many miles what the Italians
call a Maremma, or fen-country, thickly wooded,
swampy, and in summer time pestiferous—only fit to he
inhabited by wild-boars that swarm, and by the buffa-
loes that are reared, there in great numbers, or by the
banditti who occasionally sought and found security
from pursuit in its mazes. On the Naples side there
ig @ mountainous country, as thinly inhabited as the
Campagna and the Pontine Marshes; the Apennines,
which stretch through the Neapolitan provinces of the
Abruzzi, and there attain their greatest elevation,
abound with forests, defiles, chasms, rocks, caves, and
all kinds of convenient hiding-places, and are traversed
by hardly any roads. It is a uy as wild and as
pe eee as the wildest parts of Wales or the high-

nds of Scotland may have been before roads were
made, and trade and industry introduced ; the differ-
ence being, that the mountains are two or three times
higher, and the climate incomparably finer. There are
other obvious points of dissimilitude, among which we
may mention that wolves are very abundant, and bears

——

1842.)

by no means unknown. In the enormous mass called
‘ The Grand Rock of Italy’ (J? Gran Sasso d Italia), in
Monte Maijello, and in the mountains that rise about the
town of Aquila and the passes of Antrodocoand Taglia-
cozzo, there are recesses wherc men might lie hidden
for months without any risk of being discovered by an
inactive soldiery or a cowardly police; and there are
places where twenty resolute men, with arms and am-
munition at hand, might keep an army at bay, pro-
vided only the said army made no use of shrapnels.
Such were some of the natural advantages offered to
brigandism ; and to these remain to be added what we
may call its political advantages ; that is to say, a weak,
corrupt, indolent, and inefficient government, both in
the States of the Church and in the Neapolitan king-
dom; an oppressed and impoverished people; an al-
most total want of education ; and a consequent prone-
ness, on the part of the peasantry, to regard the ban-
ditti rather: with a friendly than an unfriendly eye.
Safe in their own poverty, the mountaineers and the

ople of the Marshes and the Campagna had little to

ear, and were at times benefited by the greater and

bolder bands of robbers, who thus acquired that dan-
gerous sort of consideration once eueyes in England
by Robin Hood, who was said to rob the rich in order
to teed the poor. From these and other causes, this
portion of the south of Italy has hardly ever been free,
in modern ages, from brigands.

The time when the robbers were in their most high
and palmy state wasin the sixteenth century, when the
Spaniards, after acquiring possession of the whole of
the beautiful kingdom of Naples by a mixture of force
and diplomatic fraud, misgoverned it most stupidly
and atrociously, by means of viceroys sent from Madrid.
Then there rose and flourished Benedetto Mangone,
who had a numerous band; and, far greater than he—
the greatest of all Italian bandits—Marco Sciarra,
commonly called ‘ Re della Campagna, or ‘king of
the open country,’ and who asserted his prerogative at
the head of six hundred robbers. King Mark’s head-
quarters were generally in the inaccessible mountains
of the Abruzzi, whence he descended upon the Papal
States, or upon that Neapolitan plain through which the
Liris still eats silently its way as in the days of Horace,
as best suited his purpose. At times his royal army was
spread in detachments on both sides of the frontier,
robbing the pope’s subjects and the subjects of the
king of Spain at one and the same moment: at other
seasons they were concentrated to plunder or put
under ransom towns and rich villages, or to make
head against the pope's or viceroy’s troops. If pressed
by troops in the kingdom, they retreated into the do-
minions of the church; if molested in the dominions
of the church, they wheeled round, and, through some
dangerous mountain-pass, got back into the kingdom.
Other bands, under separate chiefs, scattered through
the Papal States and the farther-off regions of Tuscany,
Maintained intelligence with Marco, and occasionally
concerted joint and extensive operations with him.
The greater part of Italy being no better governed
than the Neapolitan kingdom, and being cut up into
little states, with numerous frontiers, and an abun-
dance of woods, mountains, and maremmas, there was
no lack of robbers in other parts; but the bands were
altogether insignificant, compared with the army in
the Abruzzi. So great was the disaffection of the
Neapolitans under the Spanish viceroys, that several
of the great nobles, who had estates in the Abruzzi,
connived with King Mark, and not a few men of edu-
cauion and superior condition, flying from tne tyranny
of the Spaniards, joined the robber-chief. At onetime
two armies were sent against him, one by the vicero
from the side of Naples, and one by Pope Sixtus VI.
from the side of Rome; but, assisted and well-informed

THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 4 |

of every movement by the peasantry on either side,
Marco foiled them both, cut a detachment of Spanish
troops to picces on the banks of the lake of Celano,
sacked the town of that name, and got safe with his
booty to the holes in the rocks and his other inacces-
sible hiding-places. Two years after this fruitless
attempt, the viceroy sent four thousand men, horse
and foot, into the Abruzzi; but this time, instead of
manceuvring and outmarching them, Marco, whose
forces had been greatly increased, met his adversaries
in the field, wounded the viceroy’s general with his
own hand, and completely routed the army. Then,
with scarcely any opposition, Marco, descending from
his mountains, swept a great part of the Adriatic side
of the kingdom, and returned to his head-quarters
rich with the plunder of provinces. His popular fame
however was somewhat tarnished, for at Lucera, a
considerable town on the edge of the great plain
of Apulia, his band, rather by accident than design,
shot the bishop, who was no Spaniard, but a true
Neapolitan. |

About this time, in the year 1590 or 1591, Marcc
Sciarra’s band must have been more than a thousanc
strong. He was so completely lord af the Abruzzi,
that few taxes or imposts for the king of Spain could
be levied there. He was so considerable, and occu-
pied so doubtful a position as half-robber, half-patriot,
that the Venetians, who were on bad terms with his
Catholic majesty, with the pope, and with the Duke of
Tuscany, courted his friendship, and sent him assist-
ance in arms and ammunition. After a long reign
for that sort of potentate, being very closely pressed by
a regular permanent force, sent against him by the
new pope, Clement VIII., and by another great force
of the viceroy, under the command of the Count of
Conversano, a Neapolitan nobleman of jmmense
wealth (his estates lying, in part, in the Abruzzi), and
a man of rare prudence and ability, who conciliated the
people of the country, instead of plundering and oppress-
Ing them, as former commanders had been accustomed to
do, Marco thought it expedient to evacuate his domi-
nions, and accept an offer of service which had becn
made to him by the Venetians. With part of his band
he gained the shore of the Adriatic, and embarked in a
Venetian galley. Mark, however, left his brother Luke
behind him; and when the storm was overblown, and
confidence restored to the two neighbouring govern-
ments, by the news that the redoubted kjng was cer-
tainly gone, Luca Sciarra was enabled to collect the
‘merry-men’ who remained, and to resume operations.
Mark, it appears, made use of his ‘ leave of absence’ to
revisit his old comrades in his native mountains. Jn
foing to one of these visits he was cutoff. But his
fate was as much milder as his fame had been greater
than that of his predecessor. Benedetto Mangone,
being captured by Spanish troops, was carried into the
city of Naples, atrociously tortured, and then beaten
to death with hammers. Marco Sciarra, on landing in
the pope’s territories, in the marches of Ancona, be-
tween that fair city and the mountains of the Abruzzi,
was met and welcomed by one Battimello, an old fol-
lower, but who had recently sold himself to the papal
commissary, and who, inembracing him, struck a dag-
ger into his heart. According to the traditions of the
Abruzzi, this king of robbers was, in general, averse
to every kind of cruelty, except where Spaniards were
concerned; and the Neapolitan historians, who have
thought him of sufficient consequence to claim a place
in their annals, do not accuse him of any atrocious
deeds. Perhaps a suspicion of national partiality may
be entertained.

Dr. RADCLIFFE AND THE RADCLIFFE
LIBRARY.

Joun Ranvcuiirre, the founder of the library, was in
every respect a most remarkable man.
professional pedantry, he wholly threw off its trammels;
though a lover of money, he knew how to be gencrous,
nor could any regard to his interest reduce him to flat-
tery or servility; though not devout, he withstood
every temptation offered to his ambition by his sove-
reign, James 4J., to become a Catholic; though sar-
castic and even rude, his friends were eminent and
many, and much attached to him; and though some-
what intemperate and too much attached to the plea-
sures of the table, yet his excesses do not seem to have
ever disabled him from the active duties of his profes-
sion, though they may have shortened his life, and he
himeelf, in a letter written a few days before his death
to the Earl of Denbigh, has expressed his feeling there-
upon with an earnestness, of which probably few would
wish to increase the severity, or not respond Amen to
the prayer. This letter concludes thus:—‘* The pain
that affects my nerves interrupts me from making any
other request to you, than that your lordship would
give credit to the words of a dying man, who is fearful
that he has bcen, ina great measure, an abcttur and
eucouragcr of your intemperance, and would therefore
in these his last moments, when he is most to be
credited, dehort you frum the pursuit of it; and that in
these the days of your youth (for you have yet many
years to live, if you do not hasten your own death) you
would give ear to the voice of the preacher, whom you
and J, with the rest of our company, have, in the midst
of our debauches, made light of for saying, ‘ Rejoice,
Oh, young man, in thy youth, and let thy heart cheer
thee in the days of thy youl and walk in the ways of
thy heart, and in the sight of thine eyes; but know thou
that for all these things God will bring thee to judg-
ment!’ On which day, when the hearts of all men
shall be laid open, may you and I, and all that sincerely
repent of acting contrary to the revealed will in this
lite, reap the fruits of our sorrows for our misdeeds, in
a blessed resurrection.”

The events in the life of Radcliffe were, like those of
most men of scientific pursuits, but few and unimport-
ant. He was born, in 1650, at Wakefield in Yorkshire,
of respectable parents, and cducated in the grammar-
zciooL: of that town; from thence, at fifteen, he was
removed to Oxford, took his degree of M.A. in 1672,
and commenced the study of medicine. His applica-
tion seeins at once to have been directed to the more

ractical parts of his art, and while he attended all the
lectaies on anatoiny, chemistry, and botany, his read-
ing seeins to have been but small; Dr. Bathurst, the

resident of Trinity College, once asking to see his
fibrar , he pointed to a skeleton, a few vials, and a
herbal, saying, “ That, sir, is Radcliffe’s library.”

After practising as a physician with much success at
Oxtord, he removed, in 1684, to London, where his wit
and readiness, as well as his skill, made him in a short
time a great favourite with both sexes, and procured him
A most lucrative practice; he was nominated physician
to the Princess Anne, in 1686, and after the Revolu-
tion, after having performed two remarkable cures on
MM. Bentinck and Zulenstein (afterwards Lords Ben-
tinck and Rochford), he was utfered that of physician
to William JIT. This office, however, he declined, but
continued to attend the kine in cases of illness. The
following anecdote will give a good illustration of the
Doctor's manner, and of the freedom which he exer-
cised. In 1657 the king was indisposed, and the medi-
cines prescribed for him seemed rather to increase
than remove his disorder, Dr. Radcliffe was sent for,
and on arriving found the king reading Sir R. L'Es-

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

In an age of

[JANUARY 15,

trange’s version of ‘ Aisop’s Fables.’ His majesty then
informed him that he had azaina wish to have recourse
to his skill, as his other physicians appeared to be not
aware of his inward decay, but promised him a speedy
recovery, and a life of many years. Upon which,
the Doctor having put some interrogatories to him,
very readily asked leave of the king to tum tua fable
in the book before him, which would let his majesty
know how he had been treated, and read it to him in
these words :—* Pray, sir, how do you find yourself?”
says the doctor to the patient. “JI have had a most
violent sweat.” “Oh! the best sign in the world,”
quoth the doctor. And then, a little while after, he is
at it again, with a“ Pray, how do you find your body ?”
‘‘ Alas!" says the other, “ I have just now had a ter-
rible fit of horror and shaking upon me.” “ Why this
is all as it should be,” says the physician; “it shows a
Inizhty strength of nature.” And then he comes over
him the third time, with the same questions again.
“ Why, I am all swelled,” says the other, “ as if J had
the dropsy.” “ Best of all,” quoth the doctor, and
goes his way. Soon after this cones one of the sick
man’s friends to him with the same question, ‘ How
he felt himself?” “Why, truly,” says he, ‘so well
that Iam even ready to dic of I know not how many
good signs and tokens.” ‘ May it please your majesty,
yours and the sick man’s case is the very same; you
are buoyed up with hopes that your malady will be
driven away by persons that are not apprised of means
to do it, and know not the true cause of your ailment:
but I must be plain with you, and tell you, that in all
probability, if your majesty will adhere to my pre-
scriptions, it may be in my power to lengthen out your
life for three or four years, but beyond that time
nothing in physic can protract it, for the juices of your
stomach are all vitiated: your whole mass of blood is
corrupted, and your nutriment for the most Ha turns
to water. However, if your majesty will forbear
making long visits to the Earl of Bradford's (where the
king was wont to drink very hard), I'll try what can be
done to make you live easily, though I cannot venture
to say can make you live longer than I have told
ou;’ and so left a recipe behind him, which was so
appy in its effects as to enable the ave not only to
make a progress in the western part of his kingdom,
but to go out of it, and divert himself at his palace of
Loo in Holland.* Tis intercourse with the celebrated
Prince Eugene of Savoy is also characteristic. “The
Chevalier de Soissons, his highness’s nephew, in a
nightly encounter with the watch, was so bruiscd that
he was thrown into a violent fever, which was falsely
said to terminate in the small-pox, to cover the re-
po of such an unprincely disaster. Hereupon Dr.
dcliffe being called upon for his advice, very frankly
told the prince, “ that he was extremely concerned he
could be of no service to him in the recovery of a per-
son so dear and nearly related to him as the Chevalier,
since the Sieur Swartenburgh, his highness’s physician,
had put it out of his power by mistaking the nature of
the distemper: but that he should hold it amongst the
greatest honours he had ever received, if he might
have the happiness of entertaining so great a general,
to whose noble achievements the world was indebted,
at his poor habitation. In pursuance of this invitation
the prince paid him a visit. “ The Doctor made pro-
vision accordingly ; and instead of ragouts and other
fine kickshaws, wherewith other tables had been spread,
ordered his to be covered with barons of beef, jizgets
(legs) of mutton, legs of pork, and other such sub-
stantial British dishes, for the first course, at which

* Memoirs of the Life of John Radcliffe, M.D., interspersed
with several original Letters,’ &c., 1715, to which scarce work,
wad to Ingram’s ‘ Metmorials of Oxford,’ we are indebted for
most of the materials of this notice,

1812.) THE PENNY
several of the nobility, who were perfect strangers to
whole joints of butcher's meat, made light of his enter-
taininent. But the prince, upon taking his leave of
him, said, in French, ‘ Doctor, I have been fed at other
tables lke a courticr, but received at yours as a sol-
dier, for which I am highly indebted to you, since I
must tell you that Jam more ambitious af being called
by the latter appellation than the former. Nor can I
wonder at the bravery of the British nation that has
such food and such liquor (meaning some beer he had
drank of seven years old) of their own growth as what
you have thus given proof of.’” His life abounds with
such anecdotes, and many of them show his strong dis-
gust at meanness or assumption, while he was no nig-
gard in his approbation of true merit. Our limits

reclude giving specimens of his caustic wit and

umour, and we must therefore content ourselves with
a single instance. Sir Godfrey Kneller lived in the
house adjoining that of Radcliffe, and had permitted
the latter to open a door into his garden; but the
doctor’s servants having injured some of Sir Godfrey’s
hortulanary curiosities, he sent word by a servant to
Radcliffe, that unless this was puta stop to, he should
be obliged to brick up the door. The doctor, choleric
by nature, replied “that Sir Godfrey might do what he
io with the door, so that he did not paint it.”

fereupon the footinan, after some hesitation in the
delivery of his message, and several commands from
his master to give it him word for word, told him as
above. “ Did my very good friend Dr. Radcliffe say
80?” cried Sir Godfrey; ‘go you back to him, and
after presenting my service to him, tell him that I can
take anything from him but physic.” The painter
here had certainly the advantage over the physician
boih in wit and temper.

Dr. Radcliffe lived and died unmarried. Within
five or six years of his death, he fell in love with
a patient of rank, wealth, and beauty; he was re-
jected, and his offer made known to Sir Richard
Steele, by whom he was ridiculed in the ‘ Tatler,’
No. 44. Isaac Bickerstaff says, “I saw a gay
gilt chariot drawn by fresh prancing horses; the
coachman with a new cockade, and the lackeys with
insolence and plenty in their countenances.” This
equipaze had been all assumed in order to forward his
suit, but its owner was “in deep mourning, as the lan-
guishing, hopeless lover of the divine Hebe, the em-
blem of youth and beauty.” In the course of the essay
he gives the following no doubt popular estimate of
Radclitfe’s character as a physician :—“ You are not so
ignorant as to be a stranger to the character of Escu-
lapius, as the patron and most successful of ajl who
profess the art of medicine. But as most of his opera-
tions are owing to a natural sagacity or impulse, he
has very little troubied himself with the doctrine of
drigs, but has always given nature more room to help
herself than any of her learned assistants; and conse-
quently has done greater wonders than is In the power
of art to perform ; for which reason he is half deified
by the people, and has ever been justly courted by all
the world, as if he were a seventh son.”

The doctor had been long a sufferer from the gout,
and of this he died on the Ist of November, 1714; but
his end was embittered, if not hastened, by the unpo-
pularity and hatred which assailed him on the death
of Quecn Anne. Some years before, the doctor had
been dismissed from his office of physician to the
queen, in consequence of his negligence and rudeness
in not attending when sent for, saying, ‘“‘ Nothing ailed
her but the vapours.” But in her last illness it was
asserted he had been again sent for, and refused to
visit her. This was not the truth; he had shown the
greatest anxiety about her, and had been in constant
communication with Dr. Mead, his friend; but two

MAGAZINE. 23
hours before the queen's death, Lady Masham had
sent an unofficial message to him, requiring his pre-
sence, upon which he of course could not act; but the
belief was so strong, that it was mentioned in parlia-
ment, and he received in consequence many threaten-
ing letters, to which he feelingly alludes in the letter
to the Earl of Denbigh froin which we have previously
quoted. His body lay in state at Carshalton, where
he died, and was thence removed to Oxford, where it
was interred with great pomp in St. Mary's church.

It only remains to give some account of his posthu-
mous benefactions, which were indeed most munificent,
and for this we borrow from the ‘ Penny Cyclopedia.’
After making a life provision for some of his relations,
he bequeathed his whole fortune to public uscs. To
St. Bartholomew's Hospital in London he gave for
ever the yearly sum of five hundred pounds towards
mending their diet, and the further yearly sum of one
hundred pounds for buying of linen. He left fort
thousand pounds for the building of a library at Oxford.
which he endowed with an annual stipend of one hun-
dred and fifty pounds for the librarian (who is chosen
by the same electors that appoint the travelling fellows,
to be hereafter mentioned); one hundred pounds per
annum for repairs, and one hundred pounds per annum
for the purchase of books. It was at first called ‘ The
Physic Library,’ being intended chiefly for books and
manuscripts relating to the science of physic; compre-
hending, as that term was then understood, anatomy,
botany, surgery, and natural philosophy. Acrcord-
ingly, in compliance with a resolution of the trustees,
the purchase of books is still entirely confined to works
connected with natural history and medicine, and it
may be added that the very small sum destined by
Radcliffe for the buying of books is often exceeded.
The building has been described in our volume’ for
1834, and a view of the exterior given. It was com-

leted in 1747, and opened in a most solemn manner, on

hursday, April 13, 1749; when the Duke of Beaufort,
on behalf of himsclf and the other trustees, formally de-
livered the key to the vice-chancellor ‘for the use of
the University.” The first librarian was the Rev. Francis
Wise, B.D., of Trinity College: the present one is
John Kidd, M.D., of Christ Church, Regius Professor
of Medicine. To University College he left five thou-
sand pounds to build the master’s lodge there, making
one side of the eastern quadrangle. He also left thein
his Yorkshire estate in trust for the foundation of two
Travelling Fellowships to be hicld by “two persons to
be chosen out of the University of Oxford, when they
are M.A., and entered on the Physic line.” The elec-
tors are, the Archbishop of Canterbury, the Lord
Chancellor, the Chancellor of the University, the
bishops of London and Winchester, the two principal
secretaries of state, the two chief justices of the
Queen's Bench and Common Pleas, and the Master of
the Rolls. The appointment is three hundred pounds
per annum to each of the fellows, and apartments in
University College. They hold their fellowships “ for
the space of ten years, and no longer, the [first] half
of wick time, at least, they are to travel in parts be-

ond sea for their better improvement.’* He also
heauesthed the perpetual advowson of the rectory of

* They are at present required to pass the first five years be-
yond sea, because in the last century it happened in two different
instances that the Travelling Fellow, after living for five years
in England, preferred giving up the Fellowship to fulfilling the
intentions of the founder by going abroad for the remainder of
the time. It may be added that Radcliffe’s bequest has been of
very little use to medical science, as the only one of the Travel-
ling Fellows (as far as the writer is aware) who has distinguished
himself by bis scientific writings is Sir John Sibthorpe, the author
of the ‘ Flora Graca,’ and founder of the Professorship of Agri-
cultural Botany.

24 THE PENNY

Headbourne Worthy, in Hampshire, to trustees for the
benefit of University College for ever, so that a mem-
ber of that society should always be presented to it on
every vacancy. He gave to the samme college during
his life one thousand one hundred pounds for increasing
their exhibitions and for general repairs, and the
painted window at the east end of their chapel appears
to be his gift, by the following inscription under it :—
“D.D. Joan. Radcliffe, M.D., hujus Collegii quondam
Socius, A.D. MDCLXXxvit.’ After the payment of the
bequests above mentioned, he gave to his executors, in
trust, all his estates in Buckinghamshire, Yorkshire,
Northamptonshire, and Surrey, to be applied in such
charitable purposes as they all, in their discretion, should
think best; but no part thereof to their own use or be-
nefit. The present trustees are Lord Sidmouth, Sir Ro-
bert Pecl, W. H. Ashurst, Esq., W. R. Cartwright, Esq.,
and T.G. Bucknall Estcourt, Esq. Out of these funds
were built the Infirmary (1770) and the Observatory
(1772) at Oxford, and the Lunatic Asylum on Hedding-
ton Hill near that city also received so much assistance
from the same source (1827), that the committee gave
it the name of the ‘ Radcliffe Asyluin.’ In 1825 the
trustees gave two thousand pounds towards building
the present College of Physicians in Loudon, and they
have ever been found teady to contribute, according to
their means, to every charitable and useful purpose.

Laudable Custom of Professor Porson.—According to Dr.
Adam Clarke, it was the custom of Porson, when he quoted any
author in the learned languages, to translate what he had
quoted. This was a peculiar and exceedingly praiseworthy deli-
cacy in his character. He could not bear to see a man con-
founded (unless he knew him to be a pedant), and, therefore,
though he might presume that the person to whom he spoke un-
derstood the language, yet because it might possibly be otherwise,
and the man feel embarrassed on the occasion, he always paid
him the compliment of being acquainted with the subject, and
saved him, iC ipmoalt from confusion, by translating it. How
different this conduct on the part of a profound schular, to that
of the would-berlearned, who, having got a few scraps of a
foreign language in their heads, seek to confound the mere En-
glish scholar by uttering that which they know he does not un-
derstand. A truly sensible well-informned man will never argue
for the sake of arguing, much less for the sake of victory, at the
ee of truth aud justice. Such a man is as willing to learn
us he is to teach. His object in conversation is not to confound,
lat to gain information and to impart it.“ Professor Porson,”
Adam Clarke says, “always thought in Greek, and when in his
last illness, he found it more easy to pronounce Greek than his
mother’s tongue.”

Gibraltar in January.—And now, my dear » what shall I
say to you of this wonderful rock? Nothing can excced the
beauty and variety of the vegetation with which its mighty
bosom is all over embroidered. What think you, at this season,
of clusters of the white and odorifvrous narcissus-polyanthus,
and whole beds of lavender-tlowers of the deepest purple and
most aromatic fragrance? Every five yards you encounter beau-
tifil shrubs, of which I know not even the names; and the broad
rough steins and fan-like foliage of the palmetto mingle in wild
abundance with the gigantic leaves of the aloe and the uncouth
and unwieldy bunches of the prickly-pear, Some parts are all
blue with periwinkles; and here and there the wild tulip shows
half its bulb, about the size of a turnip, among tufts of the most
delicious herbs. Lower down are almond and damascene trees
in full blossom, and here and there a noble old pine waves in
gloomy majesty side by side with the light and feathery cork-
tree. The atmosphere—it is indeed Paradise to breathe it! Al]
ia fragrance, verdure, and bloom. The indescribably beautiful
Almeyda, with its geramum hedges and gorgeous coloured
Mowers, occupies the broad esplanade at the base; while the blue
surface of the Mediterranean, backed by the soleinn outline of
the Granada and Barbary bills, finishes the picture. You have
no idea what a nice, little, clean, pretty, bustliug town Gibraltar
is. The fortilications are @ source of astonishment and delight to
me. Their extent, size, and beauty must be seen to be appre-

MAGAZINE.

[JanuaRY 15,

ciated. And as for the streets—there you behold a daily mas-
querade of nations! You are absolutely bewildered with the
incessant variety of feature, complexion, and costume which you
encounter at every step. The noble countenance of the Spaniard,
shadowed by his black steeple-hat; the turbaned Moor, with his
clear olive check and large eye; the scarlet skull-cap of the
handsome Greek; the African Jew, with his hideous cowl of
striped cloth; the Turk, the Negro, the-Italian, and, though last
not least, the well-fed, fair, and comely Englishman, mingle in
the variegated gala of this romantic town.—H hite’s Fragments.

Damel Lambert.—Though our town could not vie with the
Islington Hercules, we have produced the largest and heaviest
man in the world. Daniel Lambert and myself were boys to-
gether, and as I lived next door to him, I watched his growth
for several years, At the age of ten he wasa tall, strong lad, of
a very quiet disposition, not at all inclining to be jolly, but pos-
sessing a fine open countenance, Svon after the age of fourteen
he began to thicken rapidly; like Milo with the calf, I have
often carried him upou my back, but not when he became an
ox. He was very foud of bathing, and his corpulency enabled
him to perform extraordinary feats in the water. He was the
envy of boys who were learning to swim, for while they were
struguling to keep their heads above water, he would lie, like a
whale, motionless tpon the surface. During the summer
months he never was so happy as when wallowing for hours ini
the river, rolling over aud over like a hippopotamus; and as his
weight increased, this desire increased also. The great use he
made of this luxury probably relaxed the skin, and tended to
increase his bulk, Mr. Lambert was highly scusitive upon the
subject of his huge appearance; and when he ventured out, was
aware that it drew upon him the general gaze. With a culti-
vated mind, I might say above his station in life, he could not
bear this exposure, and soon gave up his ordinary walks, re-
maining constantly at home. A life so sedentary operated to
make him still more corpulent. In summer he could only en-
Joy the fresh air by sitting at his door, and that always without
his coat. Dr. Hague, the university professor of music in Cam-
bridge, having called ey me, I took him to see that Roman
curiosity the Jewry wall, near St. Nicholas’s church; and as
we were guing to view the room where Richard III. slept the
night before the fight in Bosworth-tield, we had occasion to pass
Mr. Lambert's house. He was sitting at the door, and the mo-
ment my friend caught a sight of him, in a fit of astonishment
he made a full stop, and exclaimed, “* Mercy on us, what a
sight!) I walked on, knowing how much Mr. Lambert dis-
liked the rude gaze of a stranger, and entered into conversation
with him to take off the effect of Hague’s astonishment; but
Lainbert followed the little doctor with his keen eye, and frowned
upon him as he passed uz, till he was out of sight. On rejoining
the professor, I found him so filled with amazement, that the
sights I had in store for him claimed none of his attention com-
pared with what he liad unexpectedly secon, The quantity of
cloth required to make his clothes was immense. When he
walked, there was a lightness in his atep that was surprising ; he
had a voice clear and agreeable, and sang with ease ad _ taste.
He was remarkably temperate, and frequently tried the experi-
ment of abstinence, without any apparent diminution of bulk.
When unrestrained, he would eat an entire leg of mutton. Mr.
Lambert was exceedingly fond of the sports of the field, and was
curious in the breed of his dogs and game fowls, which attracted
to his house many country gentlemen. This was a delicate way
of satisfying their cunosity, and by the sale of these animals
something was coutributed to his support. This source of re-
venue, however, began to decline, and his circumstances at length
compelled him to form an alliance with a Mr. Pearson, much
against his will; and he first submitted to be shown for a sight
in Piccadilly, London. When I visited town, T called upon him
as a friend, and svon discuvered that he was distressed at my
seving him in a situation so degrading. He got up from his
enormous chair (a thing he rarely did), and shook me by the
hand. That his sensibility was wounded was evident during my
stay, by the rebuff he gave a gentleman he thought too particular
in his inquiries. He died, aged 36, at Stamford, on the 21st of
June, 1809, and when last weighed he was 52 stones 11 Ibs. ;
but he had so much increased since that time, that Ins attendant
told me he probably could not be less than 57 stones at the time
of his decease. —Gardiner's Music and Friends,

1942.)

THE PENNY MAGAZINE

(Go.psm17H—from the Portrait by Sir J. Keynolds. Goldsmith’s Mill at Auburu—from a picture painted by Creswick.)

GOLDSMITH.

Few of our writers possess a more abiding place in
the hearts and memories of the people than the author
of ‘ The Traveller,’ ‘ The Deserted Village,’ and ‘ The
Vicar of Wakefield;’ and few have drawn so en-
tirely from their own personal observations and
experiences. Byron has impressed his own stamp
on all his productions, but it is only of himself as an
isolated individual; and Burns has sung his —
in varied situations, but his mind has projected itse

into a wider sphere, from whence he acquired a know-
ledge of and a power of depicting human character

No. 629,

| far beyond his own personal experience.

To all of
them, however, this quality has given them an earnest-
ness and a reality that strikes at once on the heart of
areader. In Goldsmith this is united to an amiability
and kindness that render him more like a companion,
and in which, and in his simple truthfulness, he more
resembles Cowper than any other of our poets. ‘ The
Traveller,’ commencing with a feeling recollection of
home, describes the characteristic features of the Eu-
ropean nations which he had visited, and in some of
which he had partaken of the enjoyments he narrates.
In ‘ The Deserted Village,’ Auburn 1s Lissoy ; every spot
and every person is identified ; and his beau-ideal of poli-

: VoL. XI.—E

tical economy is the cottier system to which he had been
accustomed, ‘“‘ where every rood of ground maintained
its man.” In ‘The Vicar of Wakefield,’ the vicar was
his father ; himself was George; the family economy
was what he had seen; both his sisters were privately
married under unpleasant circumstances, though not
with such painful consequences as that of Olivia.
Squire Thornhill is an Irish squire; Moses and his
bargain of the green spectacles was founded on a mis-
adventure of his father; Jenkinson’s pedantic preten-
sions must have been witnessed by him during his lite-
rary career ; and of the plot the great merit is its truth
an simplicity. ‘The Citizen of the World’ and his
‘Essays’ rest mainly upon similar foundations. His
plays are alike said to have been founded on personal
events, and in ‘The Good-natured Man’ he no doubt
drew from himself. In his poems he iscommonly said
to have formed his style upon that of Pope; and, as he
greatly admired that poet, he probably to some extent
did so, but it has less monotony of cadence, the thought
is not so much compressed into couplets, and in these
and other of its features, such as the condensation of
idea, frequently reminds us of that of Dryden, “ with-
out one faulty line,” as was said by Johnson. In his
novel he had no immediate model, unless Ficiding’s
‘Amelia’ may have given the hint for a domestic story
whose interest should arise from the unexaggerated
incidents of private life, but beyond this there is no
resemblance. His plays contain some wit, much hu-
mour, easy and natural dialogue, and sketchy but feeble
delineations of real character; they are indeed rather
farces of a superior kind than regular comedies. We
are, however, not about to enter into a criticism of his
merits, which are sufficiently established, but to give a
sketch of his life with reference to its localities, and
few lives afford a greater or better identified variety.

Oliver Goldsmith was of an Irish iris and born
at Pallas, or Pallasmore, in the parish of Forganey or
Forney, in the county of Longford, on the 10th of
November, 1728. His father was the Rev. Charles
Goldsmith, who, from an early and improvident,
though not otherwise an unhappy marriage, was for
twelve years dependent on the indaess of his wife's
uncle, rector of West Kilkenny, whom he assisted in
his duties. He had a family of seven children, ot
whom five were born at Pallas, and of these five the
youngest was Oliver; but, in 1730, on the death of the
uncle Mr. Green, Charles Goldsmith was instituted to
the aa | of pecnny "est, and immediately re-
moved to Lissoy, a small village not far from Athlone.
The house at Pallas is now wholly pulled down, and
that at Lissoy a shapeless ruin; but, as we have already
said, many of the features of Auburn are yet to be
traced. In the engraving is shown the “ busy mill” as
it 18 seen at present, from a painting by T. Creswick,
with the loan of which we have been favoured. In the
village, under an old woman and an old soldier, he
received the first rudiments of education, where he
acquired the character of being “impenetrably stupid,”
but why does not so distinctly appear, unless for liking
better to listen to the old soldicr’s adventures and his
tales of fairy-land, than poring over his lessons, as he
early displayed a great avidity for reading, wrote
childish rhymes, and distinguished himself by keen-
ness though not readiness of repartee, while his kindly
disposition and good temper are praised, and his fond-
ness for listening to the ballads of the peasantry, many
of which he could repeat at a later period of his life, is
also recorded.

In 1733 he was removcd to a school of a higner class
at Athlone, and thence, in 1741, to Edgeworth’s Town,
where he remained till his admission into Trinity Col-
lege, Dublin, which he entered as a sizar, in conse-
quence of the embarrassed circumstances of his family,

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

[JANUARY 22,

in June 11, 1745. Here he continued, with mutual
dissatisfaction to himself and his tutors, till February,
1749, when, notwithstanding suspensions, reprimands,
his struggles with poverty (to relieve which it is said
he wrote street-ballads, for which he received five
shillings each), and numerous stories of his idleness
and eccentricities, he was in due course admitted to the
degree of B.A.

His father had died while he was still at college, and
his mother, much reduced in circumstances, though
not destitute, now lived at Ballymahon. To her he
returned on leaving Dublin, and having declined en-
tering the church, having also foolishly squandered the
moncy raised to enable him to study the lav. he seems
to have spent about two years in amusing himself with
the sports of the country, and as a private tutor or
companion in a gentleman’s family, the latter not
much apparently to his own satisfaction. Mr. Douglas
Allport has made it pretty clear, we think, that he was
usher to Dr. Milner, at Peckham, about 1751, and not
at an after-period, as has beeng enerally stated.* His
evidence is from the diary of a gentleman who had
twosons at Dr. Milner’s school, furnished by a lady, the
daughter and niece of the two pupils: his entries state
that the first was placed there “ on January 28, 1750-
51; the other, the first week after Easter, April 15,
1751. He said Mr. Oliver Goldsmith was about
twenty-three ; a dull heavy-looking man.” This gen-
tleman, with his sons, lett Camberwell for Woking-
ham, in July, 1754. Mr. Prior, in his Life of Goldsmith,
says, he “ went there towards the end of 1756, or the
beginning of the following year,” and adds a statement
of Miss Milner’s, that he was with her father about
three years; this, as he himself observes, must be
erroncous, as incompatible with his other well ascer-
tained occupations; and in addition, Dr. Milner died
in June, 1757. From the end of 1750 till the autumn
of 1752, when we find him at Edinburgh, a space is
found for this engagement, which we find at no other
period of his life; and as he continued his acquaint-
ance with the family, he may have visited frequentl
at the latter period, and there become acquainted wit
Griffiths as is commonly stated. The house still
exists at Peckham, and is known by Goldsmith’s name.

With the assistance of his friends, Goldsmith, it is cer-
tain, went to Edinburgh to study medicine, and thence,
to complete his education, to Leyden in 1754. At both

laces he evinced his usual eccentricities, and his
etters, from their style and subjects, show more atien-
tion to literary than to medical art, in the latter of
which he took no degree at either of these universities.
In February, 1755, he left Leyden in order to gratify
his curiosity by visiting different parts of the Con-
tinent; and this he performed on foot, and in spite of
great pecuniary difficulties. In this way he visited
Flanders, France, Germany, Switzerland, and ae
and in one of the universities, probably at Padua, he
received his doctor’s degrees ; his remarks and adven-
tures are supposed to be embodied in those of George
Primrose, in the ‘ Vicar of Wakefield.’

In 1756 Goldsmith first arrived in London, intending
to practise physic; and at this period, if at all, for
a short time was usher of a school in Yorkshire.
In London he renewed his acquaintance with the
Milners, and probably by them was introduced to
Griffiths, who engaged him asa writer in the * Monthly
Review.’ His engagement with Griffiths was for a
year, but mutual dissatisfaction arising, it terminated

* © Collections illustrative of the Geology, History, Antiqui-
ties, and Associations of Camberwell and the Neighbourhood,’
by Douglas Allport, 1841. In the chronology of this article,
we have chiefly followed Mr. Prior, who has taken great pains
to verify the dates, in his‘ Life and Miscellaneous Works of
Oliver Goldsmith,’ London, 1837.

1842.]

at the end of five months; he next contributed to the
‘Literary Magazine,’ and thence commenced his lite-
rary drudgery, which continued throughout his life
with a few short intervals, but—what few others have
had—he had strength to emerge from this slough, and

«¢ Mount far off among the swans of Thames.”

While pursuing this course, he lived, in 1757, in a
court near Salisbury Square; in 1758, at No. 12, Green
Arbour Court, Old Bailey; in 1760, at Wine-Office
Court, Fleet Street; and occasionally at Canonbury
House ; in 1767 he removed to the Temple, where he
occupied successively apartments in 2, Garden Court,
in King’s Bench Walk, and No. 2, Brick Court, where
he died.

Having thus gone through his residences, we now
return to detail the principal incidents of his career. Jn
1758 he endeavoured to procure a medical appoint-
anent to India, but was rejected by the College of Sur-
geons for want of being sufficiently qualified. In 1759
he wrote ‘An Inquiry into the present State of Polite
Learning in Paps a clever work in thought, and
pleasing in style, but incomplete in its information;
and he also contribute: to the ‘Bee.’ In 1760, in con-
junction with Smollett and others, the ‘ British Maga-
zine’ was undertaken, and in Newbery’s paper, the
“Public Ledger,’ he gave to the public his ‘Citizen of
the World,’ and the ‘ History of Miss Stanton,’ the first
germ of his ‘Vicar of Wakefield.’ About this period
he seems to have passed his summer months in a lodg-
ing at Canonbury House, and while here he published
his ‘Traveller,’ and wrote his ‘Vicar of Wakefield.’
This latter has been stated to have been written on the
spur of a pressing necessity ; but, as we have noticed,
a sketch of part of the story had previously appeared,
and the work bears no marks of haste; it is more pro-
bable that it had been long the work of his leisure, and
was certainly sold for him by Dr. Johnson for 60/.,
when in much want of money ; but the bookseller was
so doubtful of success, that it remained unpublished till
1766, when his fame as the author of ‘The Traveller’
gave better hopes of its being favourably received. In

ecember, 1764, appeared Fis ‘Traveller,’ for which
he received twenty guineas, and of which four editions
were published by the following August. In 1766-7
he wrote his first comedy, ‘The Good-natured Man,’
which, after much delay, and almost a quarrel with
Garrick, was acted successfully on January 29, 1768,
at Covent-Garden, producing him probably 450/. In
this year he also concluded an agreement for writing
the ‘ History of Rome,’ for which purpose he retired to
a cottage near Cannons, by Edgeware; this work is
written with great ease and clearness, but not remark-
able for historical research or accuracy. In the fol-
lowing year he commenced his ‘ Animated Nature,’ to
which a similar remark may be applied: both were
and continue to be popular as school-books. On the
26th of May, 1770, the first edition of the ‘ Deserted Vil-
jage’ appeared, and on August 15 the fifth was issued, a
satisfactory proof that poetry is encouraged when it
is produced, for certainly it bears little resemblance to
the style then said to be fashionable. He now made a
short excursion to Paris, of which few memorials have
been left. In this year also he wrote the ‘Haunch of
Venison. In 1771 he undertook his ‘ History of Eng-
land ;’ during its compo-ition he lodged at a farm-
house in Hyde Lane, near Kenton, also in the vicinity
of Edgeware, and here was also produced ‘She Stoops
to Conquer,’ which was acted with marked success on
March 15, 1772, in defiance of the forebodings of Col-
man, the manager, and the half-disclosed opinion of
Garrick. In 1773 he translated the works of Scar-
ron, and wrote his poem called ‘Retaliation;’ and
this, though he continued labouring to the end, was his

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

last important work, he having died on the 4th of
April, 174, in consequence, it is stated, of his own im-
prudent treatment of his disorder, having persisted in
taking ipecacuanha and James's powders, in spite of
the remonstrances of his medical attendant. He was
buried in the Temple Church-yard, and a simple mo-
nument, bearing Dr. Johnson’s celebrated inscription,
was raised to his memory in Westminster Abbey.

There are perhaps few persons of whom a more nu-
merous or a more entertaining stock of anecdotes are
narrated, but we have omitted them, as we think most
of them have originated with or been related by persons
not having a true understanding of him, and tending to
give a false impression of what we think his real cha-
racter. Boswe)] and his clique seem to have consi-
dered him as quite a simpleton; and even Johnson,
though generally defending him from such imputa-
tions, has called him “an inspired idiot.” The esteemed
friend—friend in a far higher sense than that of the re-
lation in which Boswell himself stood—of Edmund
Burke, Johnson, Reynolds, Garrick, and other eminent
men, could not have been the fantastic fop, the jealous
disparager of merit in others, the conceited boaster,
the idle and apathetic student, and the general butt of
all companies, which it has pleased the world to consider
him. His peach-blossom coat may have been some-
what extravagant even in an age of gayer clothing than
our own, but he himself inquires as to its elegance, and
probably thought Jess of it than his recorder. If he said
that he could play Punch better than the performer, was
it not rather in reference to its lowness as an art than
with an intention of himself descending to its practice ?
He was certainly an absent man, apparently not a
ready speaker, and had a deeply seated love for wit,
mirth, and fun; yet no one had a more perfect know-
ledge of his defects and weaknesses than himeelf; no
one knew better that

prudent cautious self-control
Is wisdom’s root :”
he has inculcated this; but his nature was genial, and
his feelings impulsive; his buoyant spirits Jed him to
extravagancies of behaviour or éxpression, and bis
sympathies to im prudencies ; neither led him even to the
verge of meanness or dishonour. In his love of mirth
he cared little for the moment whether he was laughed
at or with, and he preferred Jeaving a blunder, a mis-
conception, or a paradox to be sported with, to either
explaining or ipa en them. The mind of Gold-
smith was by no means disputatious; those of most of
his associates were: and it is remarkable how often
Boswell relates his offering opinions of considerable
weight oe Boswe]! jaughs at some of them be-
cause opposed to those of Johnson), which he leaves at
once to their fate, or to the hehe support of others,
frequently of Johnson himself. e can well imagine
the quiet glee he enjoyed at witnessing Johnson, while
talking fur victory, urging his vehement reasons and
arguments, to which, while fondly admiring the in-
genuity and talent of the man, he was repeating to
himself the Fudge of his own Burchell, and still more
go in the case of many others. “ Magnanimous Gold-
smith” chose to be “ gooseberry fool,” soft, sweet, and
simple. But let himself lift the curtain. Did ever
any “gooseberry fool” beside himeelf see so distinctly,
and delineate so sharply, yet kindly, the characters of
his friends? His portrait of Edmund Burke, in four-
teen lines, contains all the truth that could be said in
volumes ; and of Cumberland, the dramatist,
‘“Cwho made it his care
To draw men as they ought to be, not as they are,”
what can be more sarcastic? or more amiable than the
apology that
‘He grew lazy at last, and drew from mae

28 THE PENNY

That of Garrick, and indeed ot every individual men-
tioned, are equally excellent; while the allusion to
himself of ‘1 shall compile,” gives a cordial finish to
the whole, that is delightful. This poem, the ‘ Retali-
ation,’ was not finished when he died, or we might
have had in addition the picture of Johnson, and per-
haps Boswell, if we could suppose that he would have
sported publicly with one he reverenced so much, and
one of whom he thought so little.

We have had many authors with more correct and
extended knowledge, we have had some with a deeper
insight into humah nature, some with a more excur-
sive fancy ; but for kindliness of feeling, trathfulness
of description, purity of morals, melody of versi-
fication, and for the calm pleasure which we always
feel in reading his works, he is equal to any.

VARNISHED WARE OF THE BURMESE.

TuHeRe can be no doubt of the great superiority of
European manufactures over those of other parts of
the world; but there are still some few objects, which,
through unwearied patience and minute ingenuity, or
by the help of some natural revolutions not found in
Murone: the people of Asia are able to produce of a
better quality than we can supply. Among these must
be named the Burmese varnished or lacquered ware,
of which several specimens have at different times been
brought to England, and are to be seen in collections of
curiosities. This ware in its best state is like very fine
papier-maché, it is thin, light, and so flexible, that the
two sides of a cup may be pressed together so as to
touch each other, without cracking the colour or at all
injuring the article, which returns to its former shape
as soon as the pressure is taken off. It is sometimes
made of a shining black, at others of a vermillion red,
like sealing-wax, but is more commonly ornamented
with figures of yellow or pres upon a red ground, or
red upon a biack ground; and some very superior
articles are decorated with raised figures of gold. This
ware is used for all the economic purposes that earthen-
ware serves with us, and for others to which the brittle-
ness of our ware prevents us from applying it; it is
made into cups, dishes, boxes, trays, baskets, buckets,
and a variety of other objects.

The process of making this ware has been minutely
described by Major Burney, who witnessed every
branch of the manufacture at Amarapura; and the
museum of the Asiatic Society in London contains
several specimens of yarious kinds, as well as a Set of
cups in every stage, from the first weaving of a few
strips of bamboo, to the complete formation of an ele-
gant article of domestic economy. A description of
each specimen will best explain the whole process.

{Varnished Ware of the Burmese. 1st stage.,

MAGAZINE.

strips of bamboo woven together so as to form a bas-
ket, which is the frame-work of the intended cup; the
weaving is like that of ladies’ work-baskets, and care
is taken that it shall be as thin and light as ible, as
upon this matter the beauty and. delicacy of the ware
will depend; towards the edges the weaving is of a
closer nature, and the bamboo 1s made as fine as hair.
2. In the second specimen the basket is covered on
the outside with varnish, laid on with a brush made of
the husk of the cocoa-nut. This varnish is the essential
part of the manufacture, without which nothing can be
done ; it is named thit-tsi (wood-oil), and is procured
from a tree of which there are extensive forests in the
northern parts of the Burmese empire; to extract it
from the tree holes are pierced in the trunk, and little
slips of bamboo inserted to convey the oil to vessels
laced beneath. The tree is described as being very
arge and beautiful, and in the flowering season to be
80 covered with blossoms as entirely to conceal the
leaves, showing only one mass of white ; the flower has
a fragrant scent resembling that of apples, and the
young buds are eaten by the Burmese in curries. The
varnish may be gathered at all times, but if taken
during the flowering season, which is at the beginning
of the year, it does not harden well. It appears to be
in many of its properties analogous to Chinese varnish,
and it affects in a similar way the health of those who
prepare it; not, apparently, to such a degree as in
China, but still enough to be very unpleasant to those
unaccustomed to it, who frequently find their hands
bhstered and their arms and faces swelled from its
effects ; all who use it take certain precautions against
accidentally swallowing any portion, and they are
careful to touch it with the right hand only, while they
take their food with the left. Some persons are more
seriously effected by the varnish than others, and its
injurious effects appear in blotches so much resembling
leprosy, that the other Burmese refuse to hold inter-
course with the affected perton. It would seem from
the srgeetes hs ming proverb that they connect moral
defect with this Yiability —

Thit-tei thek-the thi,

Lu ma-then phyet-thi,

Lu then atwa ma shi.
t.e. “ Thit-taf is a true witness j
but does no harm to the true.”

The varnish, as before remarked, is laid on with a
brush, to spare the hand as far as practicable, but in
all future operations on the same vessel it is laid on
with the hand, both in order to procure a fine surface
and to enable the workman to discover and reject the
minutest particles of dust. When first laid on, the var-
nish looks of a light brown colour, but rubbing with
the hand turns it to a fine black. When the cup is
varnished, it must be carefully shut up in a box to ex-
clude the dust, and then deposited in a deep cold vault,
which is said to be essential to its proper setting, and
with which every manufactory is provided. ecup
is kept in the vault at least three days.

3. The third cup is advanced another step towards
completion; it is covered over with a thick black paste,
which is intended to stop up all holes in the basket and
to give the ware a body. Different pastes are used for
this purpose, but all agree in being composed of some
fine powder, mixed up with thit-tsi: in one sort, the

owder is that of calcined bones; in another, it is the

usk of rice, carbonised; and in another, the fine saw-
dust of teak-wood: in all cases the paste is dabbed on
with’ the fingers, so as to hide the basket as far as the
workman is able to do it. The specimen under de-
scription looks black and rough, and the basket appears
in several places through the paste. After this process,

[JANUARY 22,

it injures the false man,

1 The first 1s a wooden form or mould, covered with | as well as after every other in which the varnish is

1842.7

used in any shape, the cup is returtied to its conceal-
ment in the vault, where it must remain at least three
days before any subsequent operation can be proceeded
with.

4, The next specimen is the cup ground smooth
within side. This operation is performed in a clumsy
lathe, one of which is in the Asiatic Society’s museum :

(Burmese Lathe.)

it is more like the roller on which a jack-towel is hung
behind a kitchen door than the instrument we call a
lathe. This roller is turned backwards and forwards
with a stick and leather paip like the drill-bow of
our workmen ; and a hollow cylinder of coarse basket-
work is fastened at one end, and turns with it. Into
this cylinder the workman inserts the rough cup, and
if it is not large enough to stick tight in it, he fixes it
there by slips of bamboo; he then smears the inside of
the cup with water mixed with an ochrey-red earth,
turns the lathe rapidly witb his right hand, and presses
a piece of pumice-stone, held in his left hand, against
the inside of the cup: this process soan rubs down the
rough surface of the paste, and is continued until it is
quite smooth. The specimen is smooth on the inside:
the paste is rubbed down quite level with the basket-
work, which appears through it, but without injury to
the smooth surface. The outside of the basket is un-
altered.

5. The fifth cup has undergone precisely tne same
Operation on the outside, the only difference in the
manipulation being that the cup was fastened upon a
form or chuck, so as to leave the outside open to the
workman, instead of being put into a basket to expose
the inside. This cup is covered on the inside with an
additional quantity of paste of finer quality, which was
laid on by the workman after the outside was ground
smooth and dried, in order that it might receive an ad-
ditional polish on a subsequent men

6. This specimen is covered with fine paste on the
outside as well as on the inside. Its appearance is
rough and black.

7. In this stage the cup has been ground outside and
in, and has also received a coat of fine varnish. This
is the result of two successive operations, with the
interval of at least three days between them: the
grinding is performed on the lathe, as in Nos. 4 and
5; but instead of pumice-stone, the workman employs
first a piece of smooth sandstone, then a rag with char-
coal and water, and lastly, a piece of moist cloth. The
cup is dried well in the sun before the varnish is laid
on, which is done with the finger.

8. This cup has received a second coat of varnish,
and 1s quite black and glossy, but not even on the
surface.

Thus far all the Burmese ware goes through the
same processes, whatever may be the style in which
they are to be finished, whether black or red, plain or
figured. The remaining specimens show the various

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

modes in which the manufacturers finish off their work,
according to their own taste or that of their em-
ployers.

9. The next cup is simply polished in the lathe:
this is performed by turning first against a piece of
smooth sandstone, as in No.7; then by moistened rice-
husks, held in the hollow of the left hand against the
cup while turning; thirdly, by a rag dipped in well-
pulverised teak-wood ; and lastly, by the hand smeared
with a peculiar polishing-powder, said to be made of
the petrified wood of a tree called Engyen. The ware
thus finished is like the black japanned ware used in
this country.

10. The ware in this specimen is red, like sealing-
wax; not so fine as our red japanned ware, but still
clear and bright. The colour is manufactured at Ava,
and is said to be superior to the best Chinese vermillion :
it is moistened with an oil called shan-zi, extracted
from the kunyen-tree (Dipterocarpus turbinatus), and
then mixed with thit-tsi varnish. The mixture is laid
upon the ne after it has gone through the two first
operations of No.9, and nothing more is required than

lving it a polish with the hand, unless extraordinary
ustre is desired, when a mixture of shan-zi and thit-tsi
is applied.

Specimens 11 and 12 are engraved cups, execute
in the Shan or Siamese style. The engraving is done
with great ingenuity and rapidity, although the only
tool is a needle, tied to a stick, and whetted on a bit of
slate. The artist holds the cup on his knees with his
left hand, and keeps his graver almost motionless in
his right: he then dexterously turns the cup by the
help of his knees to meet the graver. The Shan style
consists in engraving a piece of black ware, as No. 9,
and filling up the hollows with vermillion: if any
figures are represented, they are left in relief, in the
manner of wood-engraving. Some grotesque figures
done in this way are seen in No. 12. In specimen
No. 11 the hollows are not yet filled in, and the cup
has a greyish appearance, arising from the light brown
lines left by the graver in the polished black varnish.
The vermillion is laid on as in No. 10, and, after drying
several days, 1s rubbed off in the lathe with wet bran
held in the hollow of the hand. The yee eata i8 ~e-
nerally repeated, to ensure a complete filling up of all
ar and the cup is afterwards varnished and po-

ished.

A more expeditious mode, called the Burman style,
consists In engraving upon a red cup, left as in No. 10,
and filling up the hollows with different colours, usually

yellow or green. Specimen 13 is engraved with gro-
tesque Chinese-looking figures; and 14 isasimilar one
with the lines filled with yellow orpiment. The en-
graving is first prepared by being varnished over; the
colour is immediately rubbed in with the finger until
it is quite dry, when the cup is finished. Sometimes
a small quantity of indigo is mixed with the o iment,
which produces a green colour. Several articles in
the Society's museum are very finely executed in this
way, some of which have both colours in the same
specimen. The beauty of the engraving consists chiefly
in the contrast of bright colours and the regular inter-
lacing of minute lines, in which some specimens re-

30 THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

semble our engine-turning; taste or drawing is totally
out of the question. ;

These are not the only modes of preparing the var-
nished ware: the finer sorts are soinetimes finished
with gilding, or with raised figures or mouldings.
These are formed of the teak-wood paste mentioned in
specimen 3, which is pressed, when soft, into tin
moulds: and when dry it becomes as hard as the wood
of which it was originally made. Europeans have
found this paste an excellent material for making the
raised work on picture-frames and similar objects.
Some articles are diversified by leaving portions of the
basket-work uncovered by the varnish: in this case the
weaving is of the finest quality; and the open parts
being of different patterns, the effect is very good.
Larger works are made of wood, joined together
with teak-wood paste, and afterwards covered in
the same way as the basket-work, the only difference
between the processes being, that in the wood-work
the first varnishing is omitted, the solid and _ fiat
surface of the wood taking the paste at once without
preparation.

It the varnish of Burmah, or anything possessing
like properties, could be procured in this reeraat a
similar manufacture might easily be introduced. The
price of the varnish at Ava is less than sixpence a
pound; and as it is preserved under water by the Bur-
mese for considerable periods, it might bear transporting
to Europe in sealed jars. The pasts which may be
made with it, as described in specimen 3, would at
least be useful for any objects where ornamental
mouldings are required.

ON PRINTING POSTING-BILLS.

In the Supplements of the ‘Penny Magazine’ for the
months of September, October, November, and Decem-
ber, 1833, will be found, under the title of ‘ A Com-
mercial History of a Penny Magazine,’ a brief outline
of the various processes conducted ina printing esta-
blishment. This of course includes a notice of the
mode of arranging metal types, according to the words
and sentences which are to be printed, and of sub-
sequently printing from the types so arranged. All
books and small printed papers are now printed from
metal types (or stereotype plates cast therefrom) such
as are there alluded to; but the printing of large post-
tng-bills and placards presents a feature somewhat
different, and worthy of a brief notice.

Theatrical announcements, newspaper placards,
coach-office posting-bills, and other kinds of advertise-
ments frequently consigned to the hands of the ‘ bill-
sticker,’ often present surfaces of very large dimen-
sions, and specimens of type greatly exceeding in size
any used for printing books. Such bills consist of
several sheets of paper, each printed separately from
the others, and all joined edge to edge ; the types, like-
wise, instead of being formed wholly of metal, are
partly of metal and partly of wood. The use of wood-
type etters deserves a few remarks.

n the printing of large posting-bills, the small
letters are common metal types, but the larger letters,
as well as any pictorial embellishments which may
fortn part of the bill, are cut in separate blocks af
wood, and afterwards adjusted to the smaller metal
types. All metal types are made exactly to one height
(about seven eighths of an inch) in order that when
ranged side by side their ends may present a perfect
level ; and for a similar reason the wooden letters are
made of a similar height. The kind of wood preferred
for these letters is that of the apple-tree, being smooth
and close-grained; but pine is more frequently used
for the larger sizes. The planks of wood are sawn

[JANUARY 22,

and planed to the proper thickness; and after the
forms of the letters have been marked on the surface
by a gauge or pattern, the wood is cut away at the
boundary-lines. The cutting is carried quite through
at the exterior of each letter, so as to constitute it a
distinct piece of wood; but the interior vacancies of a
letter, such as those in the O, the G, the A, &c., are
cut away only to a depth of about a quarter of an inch,
sufficient to keep clear of the ink with which the sur-
face is afterwards covered, and at the same time avoid-
ing the weakening effect of cutting the wood entirely
through. Every one must have observed, that among
the large posting-bills which our streets present, black
or coloured letters are generally seen on a white
ground, or on a ground of a different colour from that
of the letter ; occasionally, however, the letter is white
on a coloured ground. In this latter case the block,
instead of being cut away within and around the letter,
in order to leave the letter itself projecting, is cut
away in the part which is actually to form the letter;
so that the ink entirely escapes the letter itself. The
cutting is effected by chisels and gouges of the usual
kinds, and is the work of a class of artizans called
‘ Wood letter Cutters,’ or ‘ Wood-type Cutters.’

There are printing-offices in London where a good
deal of this kind of printing is carried on. At the
‘ Nassau Press’ of Mr. Johnson, which we have seen,
large posting-bills and placards, if many copies are
required, are printed by steam, two printing-machines
being worked by the engine. The sheets of paper for
posting-bills are generally about one size, three quar-
ters of a yard by about half a yard; the number for
each bill varying according to the size of the bill.
Theatrical placards have lately been printed contain-
ing a8 many as twenty-four sheets, four in width and
six in height.

The kind of paper employed, the wetting of the
sheets before printing, the arranging of the meeting
edges in a large bill, and other details of the process,
do not seem to require any explanation ; so far as they
differ from the details given in our former numbers,
they are simple and unimportant.

THE SHEERWATER OR BLACK SKIMMER.

Tue extraordinary structure of the bill in this Ameri-
can bird (the Rynchops of Linneeus) immediately fixes
the attention. In appearance it looks, at first sight,
like a worn or imperfect organ: in reality it is an in-
strument of the nicest adjustment as applicable to the

urposes which it has to execute. Bufion, as was too
rrequently his wont, condemnsan organization which he
did not understand, and mdeed could never have accu-
rately examined. ‘“ The bird named Bec-en-ciseaux
(Scissor-bill),” says this eloquent but hasty writer, “can
neither bite on the side of the bill nor pick up anything
before it, nor peck forwards, its bill being composed
of two excessively unequal pieces; the lower man-
dible, which is elongated and projecting (avancée)
beyond all proportion, much exceeds the upper man-
dible, which only falls upon it like a razor on its haft.
In order to reach anything and seize it with so defec-
tive an organ, the bird is reduced to skim the surface
of the sea as it flies, and to plough it with the lower
part of the bill plunged in the water so as to catch the
fish below and lift it as the bird passes. It is from this
manecge, or rather, from this necessary and painful
(pénible) exercise, the only one which could enable it
to live, that the bird has reccived the name of Couneur
@eau (cut-water) from some observers, whilst the name
of Sczssor-bill has been intended to point out the man-
ner in which the two unequal mandibics of its bill fall
one upon the other ; of these, the lower, hollowed into

1842.]

a gutter with two elevated trenchant edges, re-
ceives the upper, which is fashioned like a blade
(lame).”

Now the structure is the very: reverse. The upper
mandible at its base overlaps the lower with its edges ;
but the upper edge of the under mandible, which con-
sists of a thin flattened plate or blade, is received in a
groove with elevated sharp edges on the lower surface
of the upper mandible: this groove diverges at the
base, and thus comes to overlap the lower at the gape
as above noticed. We shall presently see how effec-
tually this apparently uncouth instrument is adapted
to the necessities of the animal. Catesby indeed justly
speaks of it as ‘a wonderful work of nature,’ and ac-
curately describes it. ‘ The under mandible,’ says he,
‘is more compressed than the upper, and very thin,
both edges being as sharp as a knife, and is almost an
inch longer than the upper mandible, which has a
narrow groove or channel into which the upper edge
ot the lower mandible shuts.’ Yet Buffon, who quotes
ey: gives the erroneous description above no-
ticed.

=
P23

=
. =
oT
» =
=

Bill of Ryochops.

The male isabout nineteen inches in length; the c.osed
wings extend beyond the tail four inches ; expanded
wings forty-four inches. Length of the lower mandible
four inches and a half; of the upper, three inches and
a half; both red, tinged with orange, and tipped with
black. Upper part of the head, neck, back, and sca-
pulars, black; wings the same, except the secondaries,
which are white on their inner vanes, and also tipped
with white. Tail forked, the two middle feathers about
an inch and a half shorter than the exterior ones, all
black, broadly edged on either side with white: tail-
coverts white on the outer sides, black in the middle.
Front, cheeks, and neck below the eye, throat, breast,
and all the lower parts, white. Legs and webbed feet
red-lead colour. The female is smaller, but similar
with the male in plumage, except in the tail, which is
white-shafted and broadly centred with black.

Catesby says, “‘ These birds frequent near the sea-
coasts of Carolina. They fly close to the surface of
the water, from which they seem to receive somewhat
of food. They also frequent oyster-banks, on which ]
believe they feed; the structure of their bills seems
ae for that purpose.”

ilson thus describes their mode of taking food on
the wing : “ The Sheerwater is formed for skimming,
while on the wing, the surface of the sea for its food,
which consists ofsmall fish, shrimps, young fry, &e.,
whose natural haunts are near the shore and towards
the surface. That the lower mandible, when dipped
anto and cleaving the water, might not retard the
bird’s way, it is thinned and sharpened like the blade
of a knife; the upper mandible, being at such times
elevated above the water, is curtailed in its length, as
being less necessary, but tapering gradually to a point,
that on shutting it may suffer no opposition. To pre-
vent inconvenience from the rushing of the water, the
mouth is confined to the mere opening of the gullet,
which indeed prevents mastication taking place there ;
but the stomach or gizzard, to which this business of

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

solely allotted, is of uncommon hardness, strength, and
muscularity, far surpassing in these respects any other
water-bird with which 1 am acquainted. To all these
1s added a vast expansion of wing, to enable the bird
to sail with sufficient celerity while dipping in the
water. The general proportion of the wing of our
swiftest hawks and swallows to their breadth is as one
to two; but in the present case, as there is not only the
resistance of the air, but also that of the water to over-
come, a still greater volume of wing is given, the
sheerwater measuring nineteen inches in length, and
upwards of forty-four in extent. In short, whoever
has attentively examined this curious apparatus, and
observed the possessor, with his ample wings, lon
bending neck, and lower mandible occasionally dip
into and ploughing the surface, and the facility with
which he procures his food, cannot but consider it
a mere playful amusement, when compared with the
dashing immersions of the tern, the gull, or the fish-
hawk, who to the superficial observer appear so supe-
riorly accommodated. The sheerwater is most fre-
ducal seen skimming close along shore, about the

rat of the flood. have eee aay a ten in
company passing and repassing at high water, dippin
with extended neck their open bills into the eater
with as much apparent ease as swallows glean up
flies.” And this is the ‘exercise pénible’ of M. Buffon,
to which he tells us the bird is condemned on account
of its ‘ organe defectueux.’

Mr. Darwin says, “ I saw this bird both on the east
and west coast of South America, between latitudes
30° and 45°. It frequents either fresh or salt water.
Near Maldonado, in May, on the borders of a lake
which had been nearly drained, and which in conse-

uence swarmed with small fry, I watched many of
these birds flying backwards and forwards for hours
together close to its surface. They kept their bills
wide open, and with the lower mandible half buried
in the water. Thus skimming the surface, generally
in small flocks, they plouigee it in their course; the
water was quite smooth, and it afforded a curious spec-
tacle to behold a flock, each bird leaving its narrow
wake on the mirror-like surface. In their flight they
often twisted about with extreme rapidity, and so dex-
terously managed, that they ploughed up small fish
with their projecting lower mandibles, and secured
thein with the upper half of their scissor-like bills.
This fact I repeatedly witnessed, as like swallows they
continued to fly backwards and forwards close before
me. Occasionally when leaving the surface of the
water, their flight was wild, irregular, and rapid; they
then also uttered loud harsh cries. When these birds
were seen fishing, it was obvious that the length ot
their primary feathers was quite necessary in order to
keep their wings dry. When thus employed their
forms resembled the symbol by which many artists re-
present marine birds, The tail is much used in steer-
ing their irregular course.

‘‘ These birds are common far inland along the course
of the Rio Parana; and it is said they remain there
during the whole year, and that they breed in the
marshes. During the day they rest in flocks on the
grassy plains, at some distance trom the water. Being
at anchor in a small vessel in one of the deep creeks
between the islands in the Parana, as the evening drew
to a close one of these scissor-beaks suddenly appeared.
The water was quite still, and many little fleh were
rising. The bird continued for a long time to skim
the surface, flying in its wild and irregular manner
up and down the narrow canal, now dark with the
growing night and the shadows of the overhanging
trecs. At Monte Video, I observed that large flocks
remained during the day on the mud-banks at the head
of the harbour, in the same manner as those which

32 THE PENNY

I observed on the grassy plains near the Parana.
Every evening they took flight in a straight line sea-
ward. From these facts I suspect that the Rhyncho
frequently fishes by night, at which time many of the
lower animals come more abundantly to the surface
than during the ar I was led by these facts to spe-
culate on the ibility ofthe bill of the Rhynchops,
which is so pliable, being a delicate organ of touch.
But Mr. Owen, who was kind enough to examine the
head of one which I brought home in spirits, writes to
me (August 7, 1837) that ‘ the result of the dissection
of the Rhynchops, comparatively with that of the head
of the duck. is not what you anticipated. The facial or
sensitive branches of the fifth pair of nerves are very
small; the third division in particular is filamentary,
and I have not been able to trace it beyond the soft in-
teguments at the angles of the mouth. After removin
with care the thin horny covering of the beak,
cannot perceive any trace of those nervous se pacar
which are so remarkable in the lamellirostral aquatic
birds, and which in them supply the tooth-like process
and soft marginal covering of the mandibles.’ Never-
theless, when we remenaber how sensitive a hair is
through the nerve situated at its base, though without
any in its substance, it would not be safe to deny alto-
gether a sensitive faculty in the beak of the Rhynchops.”
(Zoology of the Aiea Md of H. M. S. Beagle.)

But it appears that this organ is not merely useful as a
skimmer, but that it is equally available as an oyster-
knife. M. Lesson says-—‘* Though the Bec-en-ctseaur
seems not favoured in the form of the beak, we had
proof that it knew how to use it with advantage and
with the greatest address. The sandy beaches of Penco
are in fact filled with Mactre, bivalve shells, which
the ebbing tide leaves nearly dry in sinall pools; the
Bec-en-ctseaur, well aware of this phenomenon, places
itself near these mollusks, waits till their valves are
opened a little, and profits immediately by the occasion
to plunge the lower and trenchant blade of its bill
between the valves, which immediately close. The bird
then lifts the shell, beats it on the beach, and cuts the
ligament of the mollusk, which it then swallows with-
out obstacle. Many times have we been witnesses of
this highly perfected instinct.” (Manuel d Orattholo-

te.)
J Mr. Nuttall states that the Cut-water, or Black Skim-
mer,is a bird of passage in the United States, appearing
in New Jersey (to the north of the sea-coast of which, he
believes, it is unknown) from its tropical quarters early
in May; and he thinks that it robably — the
breeding season along the whole of the southern coast
of the United States. In New Jersey it “ resides and
breeds in its favourite haunts, along the low sand-bars
and dry flats of the strand in the immediate vicinity of
the ocean. Their nests have been found along the
shores of Cape May about the beginning of June, and
consist of a mere hollow scratched out in the sand,
without the addition of any extraneous materials. The
eggs are usually three in number, oval, about one
inch and three-quarters to two inches by one inch and
a quarter, and nearly pure white, marked almost all
over with large umber-brown blotches and dashes of
two shades. and other faint ones appearing beneath
the surface. In some eggs these particular blotches
are from half an inch to an inch in length. As the birds,
like the terns and gulls, to which they are allied, re-
main gregarious through the breeding season, it is
possible to collect half:a bushel or more of the eggs
from a single sand-bar, within the compass of half an
acre; and though not very palatable, they are still
caten by the inhabitants of the coast. The female only
sits on her nest during the night, or in wet and stormy
weather; but the young remuin for several weeks be-
fore they acquire the full use of their wings, and are

MAGAZINE. [JANUARY 22,
during that period assiduously fed by both parents: at
first they are scarcely distinguishable from the sand by
the similarity of their colour, and during this period
may often be seen basking in the sun, and spreading
out their wings upon the warm beach. The pair, re-
tiring to the south in September, or as soon as their
youns are prepared for their vo , raise but a single

rood in the season.” (Manual oe the Ornithology of thé
United States and of Canada, vol. ii.)

The same author states that this species is met
with in the equatorial regions of America, where it is
resident as far as Surinam, but never penetrates into
the interior, being, properly speaking, an oceanic
genus,

M. Lesson remarks that, though this bird closely
approaches the species belonging to the Antilles, it is
still possible that it may be distinct from it.

Rynchops uigra.

Roads in Russia.—The whole distance from Odessa (to two
stages from Moscow) is a mere track marked by verst-posts about
ten feet high on each side, and by them the traveller is guided
across the open steppe; but these posts do not determine the
width of the road: each carriage picks its own way, either a
hundred yards or half a mile to the right or left, as the horses or
driver may thiuk fit. This track cannot be called a road; it is
merely traced over the natural soil by one vehicle after another ;
there is not a shovelfull of material laid down, nor is there any
fencing or draining. In the winter the verst-posts are the com-
pass of the steppe, and without them it would be impossible to
proceed after heavy falls of snow: in this season the track is so
uneven that persons are constantly thrown out ef their sledges by
the violent jolts.. In wet weather it is almost impassable, and
after the thaw has set in quite so for afew weeks. Traffic is
then almost suspended, and the transport of the mails is a service
of great danger, as the wooden bridges, which have been taken
up during the winter, are not till the weather is settled :
the yagers are uently obliged to pass the rivers on rafts. In
the latter part of the spring the ground is suddenly hardened by
the slight frosts which follow the thaw, and in the summer re-
tains all the inequalities it then had; presenting, particularly
through forests where the track is narrow, and consequently more
cut up, a scries of ruts, holes, and hillocks. In the continued
heat, which withers all the grass on the st¢ppe, some inches of
the surface is beaten into dust, and ina light wind a handker-
chief over the face is almost indispensable in travelling. The
dust ona hot Derby-day will give but a faint idea of it. In
some places a few trees are occasionally planted by the side of
the track ; but they are not much more picturesque, and certainly
at this season not more verdant than the verst-posts. When the
emperor is going to travel, instructions are sent to the governors
of the different provinces through which he intends to pass, to
put the track in some sort of repair: should this circumstance
chance to occur in the middle of harvest, the its are obliged
to leave the crops and set to work.—Jesse's Notes of a Half- Pay.

1842.)

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

‘|
o

(Fuegians.—Grouped from plates in the ‘ Voyages of the Adventure and the Beagle.”}

ABORIGINES OF SOUTH
AMERICA.

Or the most southern aborigines on the globe, inhabit-
ing Patagonia and Tierra del Fuego, we are perhaps
best acquainted with the Patagonians, though our
knowledge of them is less perfect than might be ex-
ected. The name of Tierra del Fuego, given by
Magalhaens because many fires were seen in the night
upon that land, is applied to all the islands south of
agalhaen’s Straits, from 52° 30’ to 56° south latitude,
including Staten Land and the islets of Diego Ramirez.
The extent of land comprised within these limits pro-
bably exceeds the area of Great Britain. This archi-
ang is a region of clouds, vapours, rain and storms,
ut the temperature is more uniform than could be
expected in so high a latitude. During the summer
nights the thermometer frequently sinks to 29°, but
even when still lower the cold is not di eeable, as
would be the case in our own climate. Plants which
in England require to be delicately nurtured flourish
during the winter, and the parrot and the humming-
bird may be seen even amid the falling snow. In
winter the temperature of the sea is 30° higher than on
the adjoining land, and the constant evaporation from
the surface of the ocean neutralises the low tempera-
ture of the coast. The sides of the mountains are
barren towards the sea, but towards the mainland are
thickly wooded. Still Tierra del Fuego is one of the
most disagreeable countries in the globe.

Captain Fitzroy, who was pl i a few years ago
in surveying these coasts, divides the Fuegians into
six tribes, the whole comprising rather more than three
thousand adults. The Yacanas are the most numerous,
the number of adults belonging to this tribe being
about six hundred. They resemble the Patagonians,
and Captain Fitzroy conjectures that they are probably

No. 630.

SOUTHERN

—_—

in the same condition in which the Patagonians were
before they had horses. The Tekeenicas, who num-
ber about five hundred adults, exhibit some of the
worst and most melancholy features of savage life.
The Alikhoolip tribe, which reckons four hundred
adults, are superior to the Tekeenicas, but inferior to
the Yacanas. The men, however, are the most robust,
and the women the least ill-favoured of any of the Fue-
gian tribes. The Pecherays, numbering two hundred
adults, are the most miserable of these tribes. Captain
Fitzroy supposes the Huemul tribe, which only
reckons about two hundred adults, to be a branch of
the Yacanas. The Chonos tribe consists of about four
hundred adults, inhabiting Western Patagonia. The
Patagonians are physically and mentally superior to
the Fuegians. They have chal bn: the horse to their
use, and hence are often termed Horse Indians. The
tribes to which we shall at present confine our atten-
tion are all natives of Tierra del Fuego, with the excep-
tion of the Chonos; but as this latter tribe is more
nearly allied by its leading customs to the Fuegian
tribes, and is like them contradistinguished from the
onians by not having subjected the horse, they
ay be treated in a group, to which the name of Canoe
Indians is given. h of the Fuegian tribes speaks
a distinct language, but some words-are common to
two or more tribes.

Captain Fitzroy, who is ie better acquainted
with the natives of Tierra del Fuego than any other
man, and, as we shall afterwards show, has made greater
exertions than any other man to raise them in the
scale of civilisation, has sketched their ee ap-
pearance and character in his interesting ‘ Narrative of
the Voyages of the Adventure and the Beagle.’ We
cannot do better than give an extract from his descrip-
tion in his own words :—* The most remarkable traits
in the countenance of a Fuegian are his extremely

Vor. XI.—F

Pa
m

34 THE PENNY

small low forehead; nis prominent brow; small eyes
(suffering from smoke); wide cheek bones; wide and
open nostrils; large mouth and thick lips. Their eyes
are small, sunken, black, and as restless as those of
savages in general. Their eyelids are made red and
watery by the wood-smoke in their wigwams. The chin
varies much; that of a Tekeenica is smaller and Icss
eat than that of an Alikhoolip, in whom it is

rge and rather projecting ; but there is much variety.
The nose is always narrow between the eyes, and, ex-
cept in a few curious instances, is hollow in profile
outline, or almost flat. The mouth is coarsely formed ;
their teeth are very peculiar; no canine or eye-teeth
project beyond the rest, or a ge more pointed than
those; the front teeth are soli , and often flat-topped,
like those of a horse eight years old, and enamelled
only at the sides; the interior substance of each tooth
is then scen as plainly, in proportion to its size, as in
that of ahorse. Their hair is black, coarse, and lank. It
does not fall off, nor does it turn grey until they are very
old. Little if any hair is seen on the eye-brow. They
would have a straggling beard, but scrupulously pull
out every hair with tweezers made of muscle-shells.”
Captain Fitzroy observed several men and women
whose appearance resembled that of the New Zea-
landers.

‘‘Their heads are remarkably low, but wide, and
full from the ears backward. The neck of a Fuegian
is short and strong. His shoulders are square, but
-high; his chest and body are very large. The trunk is
long, compared to the limbs and head. His arms and
legs are rounder, and less sinewy than those of Euro-
peo his joints are smaller, and his extremities are

ikewise comparatively less. The hands are shaped
like those of Europeans, but the feet, from always
going barefooted, are square at the toes. Most of them
are rather bow-legged, and they turn their feet a little
inwards in walking. The knee is strained by the
custom of sitting so long on their heels, so that,
when straightened, there are considerable folds or
wrinkles of loose skin above and below the joint. The
arena of their thighs are large, but those of the legs
small.

“‘A small fillet is all that is worn around the head.
Usually tbis is a mere string, made of the sinews of
birds or animals; but to make a show, they sometimes
stick feathers, bits of cloth, or any trash given to them,
into their head-bands. White feathers, or white down,
on the fillet, is a sign of hostility, or of being prepared
for war. Red is the favourite colour, denoting peace,
or friendly intentions, and much admired as ornamen-
tal. Red paint, made with ochre, is profusely used.
Their white paint is added to the red when preparing
for war; but the marks made are mere daubs, of the
rudest, if of any design. Black is the mourning colour.
After the death of a friend, or near relation, they blacken
themselves with charcoal and oil or grease. Any sort
of clay is used, if their paint is scarce, to preserve
warmth, rather, than as an improvement to their ap-
pearance

““ When discovered by strangers, the instant impulse
ofa Fuegian family is to run off into the wood, with
their children and such things as they can carry with
them. After a short time, if nothing hostile is at-
teinpted by the intruders, and if they are not toonume-
rous, the men return cautiously, making friendly signs,
waving pieces of skins, rubbing and patting their
bellics, and yaaa Ifall goes on quietly, the women
frequently return, bringing with’ shen the children ;
but they always leave the most valuable skins hidden

in the bushes. This hasty concealment of seal or other
skins is the result of visits from sealers, who frequently
robbed Fuegian families of every akin in their posses-
sion.

MAGAZINE. (JANUARY 29,

“Scarcity of food, and the facility with which they
move from one place to another in their canoes, are
no doubt the reasons why the Fuegians are always so
dispersed among the islands in small family parties,
and why they never remain long in one place, and why
a large party are not seen many days in society. They
never attempt to make use of the soil by any kind of
culture ; cole birds, and particularly shell-fish being
their principal subsistence: any one place therefore
soon ceases to supply the wants of even one family ;
hence they are always migratory.

“In a few places, where the mecting of tides causes
@ constant suppy of fish, especially porpoises, and
where the land is broken into multitudes of irregular
islets and rocks, whose shores afford an almost inex-
haustible quantity of shell-fish, a few families may be
found at one time, numbering altogether among them
from twenty to forty souls; but even these approaches
towards association are rare, and those very families
are so migratory by nature, that they do not reinain
many months in such a spot, however productive it
pee be, but go wandering away among the numcrous
secluded inlets or sounds of their country, or repair to
the outer sea-coast in search of seals, a dead whale, or
fragments of some wrecked ship. During the summer
they prefer the coast, as they then obtain a great quan-
tity of eggs and young birds, besides seal, which come

ashore to breed at that season; and in the winter they |

retire more into the interior waters in search of shell-
fish, and the small but numerous and excellent fish
which they catch among the sea-weed (kelp).”

Mr. Darwin, the naturalist, who accompanied the
surveying ships, after visiting a party of the Fuegians,
says :—‘‘ The party altogether closely resembled the
devils which come upon the stage in such plays as Der
Freischutz..... Their very attitudes were abject, and
the expression of their countenances distrustful, sur-
prised, and startled.”

Of the mental character, arts of life, and the manners
and customs of the Fuegians, we purpose to give some
account jn a future number.

DOMESTIC ECONOMY.
BOILING FOOD.

Count Rumrorp,* a most ableAmerican writer on the
philosophy of preparing food for the use of man, says,
that all the fuel which is used for making water boil
violently in dressing of food is absolutely wasted ; and
in another place he says, that the waste of fuel in culi-
nary processes, which arises from making liquids boil
unnecessarily, or where nothing more would be neccs-
sary than to keep them boiling hot, is enormous.”
- There is not a doubt,” he adds, “ that much more
than half the fuel used in all the kitchens, public and
private, in the whole world, is wasted precy in this
manner.” But the mere waste of fuel is not the only
evil attendant upon violently boiling; the meat itself
is rendered tough, and otherwise materially injured.

It is well known that meat may be dressed in water,
which is kept boiling hot, without actually boiling, and
also that it may even be cooked with a degree of heat
below the boiling point.

The heat of boiling water is not the same in all situa-
tions; that it depends on the pressure of the atmo-
sphere, and consequently is considerably greater at the
level of the surface of the sca than in inland countries,
and on the tops of high mountains; but we never
heard that any difficulty was found to attend the pro-
cess of dressing food by boiling, even in the highest si-

* Count Rumford was born in New England in 1752; his
name was Benjamin Thompson, aml he was created a count by
the king of Bavaria, in whoee service he lived many years.

THE PENNY

tuations. Waler boils at London (and at all other places
on the same level) at the temperature of 212° of Fah-
renheit’s thermometer; but it would be absolutety
impossible to communicate that degree of heat to water
in an open boiler in Bavaria. ‘The boiling point at
Munich, under the mean pressure of the atmosphere
at that place, is about 2094” of Fahrenheit's thermome-
ter; yet nobody ever perceived that boiled meat was
less horougtly done in Munich than in London. But
if meat may, without the least difficulty, be cooked with
the heat of 2094° of Fahrenheit at Munich, why should
it not be possible to cook it with the same degree of
heat in London? If this can be done (which can hardly
admit of a doubt), then it is evident that the process of
cookery, which is called boiling, may be performed in
water which is not boiling hot.

It is well known, from experience, how difficult it
is to persuade cooks of this truth, but it is so important
that ‘no pains should be spared in endeavouring to
remove their prejudices, and to enlighten their under-
standings. This may be done most effectually in the
case before us, by a method which has been several
times put in practice with complete success. It is as
follows :—Take two equal boilers, containing equal
quantities of boiling hot water, and put into them two
equal pieces of meat, taken from the same carcass—two
legs of mutton, for instance, and boil them during the
same time ; under one of the boilers make a small fire,
just barely sufficient to keep the water boiling hot, or
rather just beginning to boil; under the other make as
strong a fire as possible, and keep it boiling the whole
time with the utmost violence.

The meat in the boiler in which the water has been
kept only just boiling hot, will be found to be quite as
well done as that in the other, under which so much
fuel has been wasted in making the water boil vio-
lently to no useful purpose.

It will even be found to be much better cooked ;
that is to say, tenderer, more juicy, and much higher
flavoured ; to which may be added, that it will be easier
of digestion, a most important consideration as regards
the health of human beings. But this subject suggests
another connected with it, and, as we think, of even
greater importance.

Itis well known that in this country the mhabitants
suffer more from indigestion, and those diseases arising
out of it, than they do in France and Italy, where the
food is better prepared, and rendered more digestible,
and consequently more wholesome. But does not in-
digestion cause our people to have recourse to spi-
rituous liquors? We know that in cases of indigestion
these Hees by stimulating the stomach, will for a
time afford relief, though in the end they will increase
the disease. Nor is this all or the worst consequences
attendant upon taking spirits for indigestion; it in-
duces a habit of spirit-drinking, and this once esta-
blished, the unhappy victim must (perhaps slowly, but
certainly surely) sink into perdition. 1n this view of
the case, good cookery is of first-rate importance.

We shall now turn to Count Rumford’s experiments
and remarks with regard to the saving of fuel, which
is avery great consideration as regards the economy
of a family, and is not without interest with respect to
the welfare of a nation at large, for we know of no
country where fuel is not considered an essential re-
quisite in all civilized societies.

The count, in order to ascertain how much fuel is
required to dress a given quantity of meat, takes one
hundred pounds of beef, and calculates that three
pounds of water are necessary to each pound of beef ; and
that both the water and the beef are at the temperature
of 55° of Fahrenheit’s thermometer (the mean tempe-
rature of the atmosphere in England) at the beginning
of the experiment.

1942.)

MAGAZINE. 35
The first thing to be ascertained is, how much fucl
would be required to heat the water and the beet
boiling hot; and then to see how much more would be
required to keep them boiling hot three hours.

And, first, for heating the water. Ithas been shown
by experiments that 20;]bs. of water may be heated
180° of Fahrenheit thermometer, with the heat gene-
rated in the combustion of 1 lb. of dry pine wood.

But it is required tohcat the water in question only
157°; for its temperature being that of 55°, and the
boiling point 212°, it is 212°—55°=157°: and if 1 lb.
of the fuel be sufficient for heating 20,, lbs. of water °
180°, it must be sufficient for heating 23 lbs. of water
157° ; for 157° is to 180° as 2044 lbs. to 23 Ibs.

But if 23 lbs. of water, at the temperature of 55°,
require 1 lb. of dry pine wood as fuel, to make it boil,
then 300 lbs. of water (the quantity required in the
process im question) would require 12§ lbs. of the
wood to heat it boiling hot.

To this quantity of fuel must be added that which
would be required to heat the meat (100 lbs. weight)
boiling hot. Now, it has been found by actual cxpe-
riment, by Dr. Crawford, that the flesh of an ox re-
quires less heat to heat it than water, in the proportion
of 74 to 100; consequently the quantity of becf in
question (100 lbs.) might be made boiling hot with
precisely the same quantity of fuel as would be re-
quired to heat 74 lbs. of water at the same temperature
to the boiling point. And this quantity in the case in
question, would amount to 3} lbs., as will be found on
making the computation.

This quantity (3} lbs.), added to that before found,
which would be required to heat the water alone
(=23 lbs.), gives 26 lbs. of dry pine wood for the
quantity required to heat 300 lbs. of water and 100 lbs.
of beef (both at the temperature of 55°) boiling hot.

To estimate the quantity of fuel which would be
necessary to keep this water and beef boiling hot three
hours, we may have recourse to the results of experi-
ments, by which it has been proved that 508lbs. of
boiling hot water were actually kept boiling (not
merely kept boiling hot), three hours with the heat
generated in the combustion of four pounds and a half
of dry pine-wood, this pives 3383lbs, of boiling hot
water kept boiling one hour, with one pound of the
fuel; and computing from these data, and supposing
farther, that a and of beef requires as much heat to
keep it boiling hot any given time as a pound of water,
it appear that 34lbs. of pine-wood used as fuel, would
be sufficient to keep 300lbs. of water, with the 100lbs.
of beef in it, boiling three hours. This quantity of fuel
(= 34lbs.) added to that required to heat the watcr
and the meat boiling hot (= 26}1bs.), gives 294lbs. of
pine-wood, for the quantity of fuel required to cook
100 lbs. of boiled beef.

This quantity of fuel, which is just about equal in
effect to 16lbs. or three-fourths of a peck of pit-
coal, will doubtless be thought a small allowance
for boiling 160lbs. of beef; but it is in fact much
more than would be necessary merely for that purpose,
could all the heat generated in the combustion of the
fuel he applied immediately to the cooking of the meat,
and to that pu alone. Much the greatest part ot
that which is generated is expended in heating the
water in which the meat is boiled, and as it remains in
the water after the process is ended, .it must be con-
sidered as lost.

This loss may, however, be prevented ina great mea-
sure; and when that is done, the expense in fuel in
boiling meat will be reduced almost to nothing. We
have just seen that 100lbs. of meat, at the mean tem-
pearature of the atmosphere in England (55°), may be
made boiling hot with the heat generated in the com-
bustion of 331bs. of pine-wood, and there i no doubt,

with the use of proper means for confining the heat,
that this meat mightbe kept boiling hot three hours, and
consequently thoroughly done, with the addition of
31lb. of the fuel, making in all 4lbs. of pine-wood,
equal in effect to about 24]bs. of pit-coal; which,
according to this estimate, is all the fuel that would
be absolutely necessary for cooking 100lbs. of beef.

This quantity of fuel would cost in London less than
one farthing and a half, when the ton of coals is sold
at about thirty shillings. This, however, is the extreme
, or utmost limit of the economy of fuel, beyond which it
is absolutely impossible to go. It is even impossible,
in practice, to arrive at this limit, for the containing
vessel must be heated, and kept hot, as well as the
neat; but very considerable advances may be made
towards it as will be shown hereafter.

If we suppose the meat to be boiled in the usual man-
ner, and that 300lbs. of cold water are heated ex-
pressly for that purpose, in that case the fuel required,
ainounting to 16lbs. of coal, would cost in London
(the ton reckoned as above), just 2 pence, or 14 farth-
ings. But all this expense ought not to be placed to
the account of the cooking of the meat; by adding a
few pounds of barley-meal, some greens, roots, and sea-
soning to the water, it may be changed into a good and
wholesome soup, at the same time that the meat is
boiled, and the expense for fuel (2 pence, 1# farthings)
may be divided between the meat boiled (100lbs., and
3UUIDs. or 374 gallons of soup.

The principal design in publishing these computa-
tions is to awaken the curiosity of the reader, and fix
lis attention on a subject, which however low and vul-
gar it has hitherto generally been thought to be, is, in
tact, highly interesting, and deserving of the most
serious consideration. We wish therefore they may
serve to inspire cooks with a just idea of the import-
ance of their art, and of the intimate connection there
is between the various processes in which they are
daily concerned, and many of the most beautiful dis-
coveries that have been made by experimental philoso-
phers in the present age.

The advantage that would result from an application
of the late brilliant discoveries in philosophical chemis-
try, and other branches of natural’ philosophy and me-
chanics, to the improvement of the art of cookery, are
so evident, and so very important, that it is hoped we
shall soon see some enlightened and liberal minded
person of the profession take up the matter in earnest,
and give it a thoroughly scientific investigation.

In what art or science could improvements be made
that would more powerfully contribute to increase the
comforts and enjoyments of mankind ?

And it must not be imagined that the saving of
fuel is the only or even the most important advantage
that would result from these inquiries: others, of still
yreater magnitude, respecting the manner of preparing
Me for the table, would probably be derived from
them.

The heat of boiling water, continued for a shorter
or a longer time,ehaving been found by experience to
be sufficient for cooking all those kinds of animal and
vegetable substances that are commonly used as food ;
and that degree of heat being easily procured, and easily
kept up, in all places and in all seasons, and as all the
utensils used in cooking are contrived for that kind of
heat, few experiments have been made to determine
the effects of using other degrees of heat and other ine-
diums for conveying it to the substances to be acted
upon in culinary processes. The effects of different
degrees of heat in the same body are however sometimes
very striking, and the taste of the same kind of food is
often so much altered by a trifling difference in the
manner of cooking it, that it would no longer be taken
for the same thing. What a surprising ditterence, for

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

(JANUARY 29

instance, does the manner of performing that most
simple of all culinary processes, boiling of water, make
on potatoes :—Those who have never tasted potatoes
boiled in Ireland, or cooked according to the Irish me-
thod, can have no idea what delicious food these roots
afford when they are properly prepared. But it is not
merely the tasfe of food that depends on the manner of
cooking it, its nutritiousness also, and its wholesome-
ness, qualities still more essential if possible than taste,
are no doubt very nearly connected with it.

Tenacity of Life in Tench.—A piece of water which had been
ordered to be filled up, and into which wood and rubbish had
been thrown for years, was directed to be cleared out. Persons
were accordingly employed; and, almost choked up by weeds
and mud, so little water remained that no person expected to see
any fish except a few eels, yet nearly two hundred brace of tench
of all sizes, and as many perch, were found. After the pond
was thought to be quite free, under some roots there secmed to be
an animal which was conjectured to be an otter: the place was
surrounded, and on opening an entrance among the roots, a tench
was found of most singular form, having literally assumed the
shape of the hole, in which he had of course for many years been
confined. His length from eye to fork was thirty-three inches;
his circumference, almost to the tail, was twenty-seven inches ;
his weight eleven pounds nine ounces and a quarter; the colour
was also singular, his belly being that of a char, or vermillion.
This extraordinary fish, after having been inspected by many
gentlemen, was carefully put into a pond; and at the time the
account was written, twelve months afterwards, was alive and
well.— Yarrell's History of British Fishes,

The Olive -Tree ana its Effects on Social Economy.—The in
habitants of the gloomy little towns in the Papal States, their
squalid, nothing-to-do appearance as they saunter in listless idle-
ness about their doors, a prey to ague and ennui, are sadly in
contrast to their bright sunny Jand and its glorious vegetation.
Their country produces every thing but industry—every thing
but industry; and man flourishes asa moral intelligent being
only where industry.is forced upon him—and civilization and
well-being with industry—by natural circumstances—by the
want, not the abundance of natural products. Truly the plenty
of their country is their curse. Suppose every kail-yard in
Scotland had a tree growing at the guess: hike the eld pol-
lard saughs we usually sce there, and requiring as little care or
cultivation, and that from this tree the family gathered its
butter, suet, tallow, or an oil that answered perfectly all the
household uses of these substances, either as a nutritious adjunct
to daily food in their cookery, or for soap, or for giving light to
their dwellings—all, in short, that our grass-lands and dairics,
our Russian trade, our Greenland fisheries, produce to us for
household uses—would it be no blessing to have such trees?
Such trees are the gift of nature to the people here in the south,
and are bestowed with no niggard hand. The olive-tree flourishes
on the poorest, scarpy soil, on gravelly, rocky land that would
not keep a sheep on ten acres of it, and a single olive-tree will
sometimes yield from a single crop nearly fifty gallons of oil.
Is thisa curse, and not a blessing ¥ Look at the people of all
olive-growing countries—and the question is answered. The
countrics which produce industry, are in a more civilized and
moral condition than the countries which produce the objects of
industry No government can give encitement to industry in
commerce, agriculture, or manufactures, when soil and climate
produce, without any great or continuous exertion of man. almost
all that industry labours for.—Mr. Laing's Notes of a Traveller
on the Social and Political State of France, Prussia, Switzerland,
Italy, and other varts of Europe.

Industry.—There is no art or science that is too difficult for
industry to attain to; it 18 the gift of tongues, and makes a man
understood and valued in all countries aud by all nations; it is
the philosopher's stone, that turns all metals, and even stones,
into gold, and suffers not want to break into its dwelling; it is
the north-west passage, that brings the merchant’s ship as soon to
him as he can desire. Ina word, it conquers all enemies, und
makes fortune itself! pay coutribution.— Clarendon,

1842.) THE

See ‘ Gk > @ 2
“\Oi Wea
Sa

eas

THE EEL.

Tuere are three different species of the fresh-water
eel (Murenidz) abounding in this country—the sharp-
nosed (Anguilla acutirostris), the broad-nosed (An-
guilla latirostris), and the snig (Anguilla mediorostris).
A fourth has been found in some countries; but so
very rarely in England, that it is not even mentioned
by many naturalists. There is so much similarity
between these species, that they were confounded to-
gether until within the last few years. The existence
of four was first spoken of in the second edition of the
‘Régne Animal,’ in 1829. Mr. Yarrell, in his inte-
resting work ‘ On British Fishes,’ gives the following
description of the appearance of the sharp-nosed eel :—
‘The head is compressed, the top convex, depressed
as it slopes forward; the eyes small, placed imme-
diately over the angles of the mouth; irides reddish-
yellow ; the jaws very narrow, slightly rounded at the
end; the lower jaw the largest: nostrils with two
openings on each side, one tubular, the other a simple
orifice; both jaws furnished with a narrow band of
small teeth ; gape small; various mucous pores about
the mouth and other parts of the head; gill-opening a
small aperture immediately before and rather below
the origin of the pectoral fin; the scales on the body
rather small; dorsal fin extending over more than
two-thirds of the whole length; both united at the
end, forming a tail; the number of rays in the fins not
easily ascertained, from the thickness of the skin; the
lateral line exhibits a long series of mucous orifices;
vertebre 113.” The differences between the three
species are very slight, being principally in the form
of the vertebra. The snig partakes of the appearances
of both the broad-nosed and sharp-nosed. The fresh-
water eel is in general about twenty or twenty-two

PENNY MAGAZINE.

(The Sharp-nosed Eel.}

inches in length; they grow very slowly, being seldom
more than twelve inches long the first year. The
sharp-nosed species attains the greatest size of the
fresh-water kind; but the marine species are often five
or six feet in length, and some have occasionally been
os pe above ten feet long. Much prejudice has ex-
isted in some countries, and does even to this day,
against the eel, on account of the resemblance in its —
‘form to the serpent; but Mr. Yarrellsays:—* There
is but little similarity in the snake and the eel, except
in the external form of the body: the internal organs
of the two animals, and the character of the skeleton,
are most decidedly different.” The eel is very much
esteemed for food, and vast quantities are consumed in
most countries. The Neapolitans have a custom of
eating them at Christmas, and in fact they consider
them as necessary as the Englishman does his roast
beef and plum-pudding. Mr. Yarrellinforms us that
eels are not only numerous, but are also in great
request in many other countries. Ellis, in_his ‘ Poly-
nesian Researches,’ vol. ii., p. 286, says :—‘‘ In Otaheite
eels are great favourites, and are tamed and fed until
they attain an enormous size. These pets are kept in
large holes, two or three feet deep, partially filled with
water. On the sides of these pits they generally re-
mained, excepting when called by the person who
fed them. 1 have been several times with the young
chief, when he has sat down by the side of the hole,
and, by giving a shrill surt of whistle, has brought out
an enormous eel, which has moved about the surface
of the water, and eaten with confidence out of its mas-
ter’s hand.” Eels are caught in the Thames in wicker
| baskets, which are attached to a framework of wood
and placed in the river. The basket is so constructed
| that the fish cannot possibly escape when once within
the mouth of the basket. Although many are caught

38 THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

in this manner, London is chiefly supplied from Hol-
land; and a considerable trade 18 carried on between
the Dutch fishermen and the London markets. Ecls
are not known m the arctic regions: it is generally
believed that they have a great dislike to cold: they
migrate in the autumn down the rivers to reach the
warm brackish water, which is of a higher temperature
than cither the fresh water of the river or the unmixed
salt of the sea. They bury theinselves deep in the
mud on the banks of rivers during the severe weather,
and great numbers are then taken by eel-spears when
the tide recedes. Eels have been known to quit the
water and travel some distance during the night, either
in search of food or to reach some other stream. A
curious instance of this is given by Dr. Hastings, in his
‘Illustrations of the Natural History of Worcester-
Pfhire ’:—“ A relative of the late Mr. Perrott was out
in his park with his keeper near a large piece of
water, on a very beautiful evening, when the keeper
drew his attention toa fine eel quietly ascending the
bank of the pool, and with an undulating motion
making its way through the long grass; on further
observation he perceived a considerable number of eels
quictly proce: ing to a range of stews, nearly the dis-
tance of a quarter of a mile from the large piece of
water from whence they started. The stews were sup-
plied by a rapid brook, and in all probability the in-
stinct of the fish led thein in that direction as a means
of finding their way to some large river, from whence
their ultimate destination, the sea, might be obtained.
This circumstance took place at Sandtord Park, near
Enstone.”

Mr. Yarrell tells us that “the eel is a voracious
feeder during certain months of the year. In winter
the stomachs of those which J examined were empty ;
by the middle of March I found the stomachs of others
distended with the larve of various insects and the
bones of small fishes. They are known to consume a
large quantity of spawn, and will attack large carp,
seizing thei by the fins, though without the power of
doing them further injury. Occasionally they eat
vegetable substances, and have been seen swimming
about the surface of water, cropping the leaves of small
aquatic plants. By means of a long and capacious air-
bladder, eels rise to various elevations in the water
With great ease, and sometimes swim very high even in
deep water. When whitebait fishing in the Thames, I
once caught an eel in the net in twenty-six feet depth
of water, though the whitebait net does not dip more
than about three feet below the surface.” The eel is
capable of enduring very extreme cold; after having
been frozen for three or four days, they have been
known to recover by being put into water and thus gra-
dually thawed.

It is supposed that after having migrated down the
river, the eel deposits its spawn early in the spring,
and that the parent fish seldom returns up the river ;
but says Mr. Yarrell,“ the great bulk of their young,
however, certainly ascend the stream of the river, and
their annual appearance in certain places is looked for
with some interest. The passage of young eels up the
Thames at Kingston in the year 1832, commenced on
th: 30th of April, and lasted till the 4th of May; but J
believe I am correct in stating that few young eels
were observed to pass up the Thames either in the year
1834 or 1835. me notion may be formed of the
que of young eels, each about three inches long,
that pass up the Thames in the spring, and in other
rivers the beginning of summer, from the circum-
stance that it was calculated by two observers of the
progress of the young eels at Kingston in 1832, that
from sixteen to eighteen hundred passed a given point
in the space of one minute of time. This passage of
young eels is called eel-fare on the banks of the

Thames,—the Saxon word signifying to go, to pass, to
travel; and I have very little doubt that the term
elver, in common usc on the banks of the Severn for a

oung eel, is a modification or corruption of eel-fare.”

he author of the article Murenide in the ‘ Penny
Cyclopxdia,’ speaking of the ascent of the young fry
up the stream, says: “Such a desire do the young ecls
(about three inches length) appear to have to go up
the stream, that their course is not easily stopped. The
writer of this has seen a flood-gate, six or seven feet in
height, in parts covered with them, and has observed
many succeed in passing over this perpendicular bar-
rier by availing themselves of the trickling water
which escaped through the crevices of the wood-work.”
The cel is an exceedingly prolific fish, remarkably
tenacious of life, and very casily preserved. Besides
inhabiting the rivers of this country, they are found in
most ponds and lakes. The marine species, of which
the conger is the largest and commonest, are more
numerous than the fresh-water.

TRIAL BY ORDEAL.

Tne trial by ordeal forms an interesting subject for
consideration, in consequence of its having entered
so largely into the systems of jurisprudence of our
Saxon and Norman ancestors, and thus giving rise to
some forms of speech and customs existing even to the
present day. Its employment has not, however, been
confined to this country, for, on the contrary, during
the middle ages, it was in use in most parts of Europe,
and traces of its existence have been discovered in
countries very dissimilar from each other in point of
geographical position, manners, and customs. This
general prevalence of what scems to us now so absurd
an institution arose from the leading principle of the
ordeal (as one of its synonyms, “judgment of God,”
denotes) depending upon a supposed special divine
interposition being induced by its operation. In the
transition and imperfect state of society in the ages
and countries to which we are alluding, the substan-
tiation of truth and the obtaining justice by human
testimony and agency were often found matters of
difficulty or even impossibility; afd the feeble and
unprotected, writhing under the grasp of the wealthy
aad werful, gladly availed themselves of a means
which at least wore some semblance of ara
and possessed the reputation of conveying the infallible
decision of God himself as to the guilt or innocence of
the party subjected to it. | The belief in this interpo-
sition once established, this form of trial would natu-
rally become extended, on account of the apparent
certainty of the result produced by it, to all varieties
of cases and every class of persons, Although not
originally devising it, the priesthood, perceiving in it a
powerful engine of emolument and influence, svon
seized upon the trial by ordeal, converted it into a
completely religious ceremony, and invariably super-
intended its administration. The clergy may have
also thought themselves as sanctioned in upholding it
by the fifth chapter of the Book of Numbers, in which
women suspected of adultery are commanded to submit
to the ordeal of drinking the Waters of Jealousy; but
the whole Biblical history of the Jews is filled with in-
stances of direct divine interpositions which neither
contemporary or succeeding nations could lay claim
to. Althouzh a passage in the ‘ Antigone’ of Sophocles
has been thought to allude to the use of the ordeal, yet
there is no other reason to believe it was known to the
Greeks or Romans, unless indeed the practice of
augury, as manifesting divine interpositions, may be
supposed to bear some remote relationship to it. Itis
among the various tribes who occupied Europe after
the fall of the Roman empire, that we find the first

[JANUARY 29.

:
1842.]

traces of this form of trial. ‘* The earliest instance of
the judgments of God among the northern nations,”
says M. l)inaux, “ was probably furnished by the igno-
rant and fanatical Celt, who, when doubtful of the
chastity of his wife, consigned the new-born infant,
placed upon his shield, to the mercy of the waves, im-
plicitly lice that if legitimate it would be pre-
served from destruction. The Salic laws introduced
by the Franks admit other descriptions of ordeal, and
especially that of boiling water.” Gibbon, speaking
of its use among the Germans and Franks, expresses
himself as follows :—

“ The civil and military professions, which had been
separated by Constantine, were again united by the
barbarians. The harsh sound of the Teutonic appel-
lations was mollified into the Latin titles of duke, of
count, or of prefect; and the same officer assumed,
within his district, the command of the troops and the
administration of justice. But the fierce and illiterate
chieftain was seldom qualified to discharge the duties
of a judge, whicn require all the faculties of a philo-
sophic inind, laboriously cultivated by experience and
study; and his rude ignorance was compelled to em-
brace some simple and visible inethods of ascertaining
the cause of justice. In every religion, the Deity has
been invoked to confirm the truth, or to punish the
falsehood, of huinan testimony; but this powerful in-
strument was misapplied and abused by the simplicity
of the German legislators. The party accused might
justify hie innocence by producing before the tribunal
a number of friendly witnesses, who solemnly declared
their belief or assurance that he was not guilty. Ac-
cording to the weight of the charge, the legal number
of these compurgators was multiplied: seventy-two
Voices were required to absolve an incendiary or an
assassin ; and when the chastity of a queen of France
was suspected, three hundred gallant nobles swore,
without any hesitation, that her infant had been born
in lawful wedlock. The sin and scandal of manifest
and frequent perjuries engaged the magistrates to re-
move these dangerous temptations, and to supply the
defects of human testimony by the famous experi-
ments of fire and water. These extraordinary trials
were so capriciously contrived, that in some cases guilt,
and innocence in others, could not be proved without
the interposition of a miracle. Such miracles were
easily provided by fraud and credulity; the most intri-
cate causes were dctermined by this easy and infallible
method; and the turbulent barbarians, who might
have disdained the sentence of the magistrate, submis-
sively acquiesced in the judgment of God.”

This statement, that the ordeal was substituted for
the trial by compurgation, in consequence of the defect
and abuse of this latter, is not strictly correct; for, in
point of fact, the two co-existed, and were frequently
employed simultaneously. The ordeal was indeed
frequently had recourse to, in consequence of the ac-
cused not being able to procure compurgators. Com-
purgators did not come award as witnesses in defence
of the particular accusation, but rather as witnesses of
the general character of the culprit, from the tenour
of which they believed him incapable of the crime
charged against him. Compurgators also appeared on
the part of the accuser, declaring that they did not be-
lieve him capable of preferring the change from mo-
tives of envy and hatred. A “villain” was obliged to
procure the testimony of his lord as to his prior good
conduct, or procure an additional number of compur-
gators, and submit to a treble instead of a single
ordeal.

Among the Saxons we find the ordeal first men-
tioned in the laws of Ina, and these were afterwards mo-
dified by Athelstan, Edward the Confessor, and William
the Conqueror. It was had recourse to for a great va-

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

riety of offences and disputes prior to the Conquest, and
even after that event, although the trial by battle was
then frequently substituted for it. The modes of trial
by ordeal were numerous, and, although they seem
sometimes to have been almost indiscrimately em-
ployed, yet, usually, particular kinds were chosen, ac-
cording to the rank of the accused and the nature of his
crime.

We may cursorily notice the principal :—

1. Fire-ordeal,—This was usually appropriated to
persons of soine consideration, and was perforined in
different manners. In one of these an iron ball, from
one to three pounds weight, after being heated in the
fire, was carried in the hand for the space of nine feet;
the hand was then enclosed in a bag, and sealed up.
At the expiration of threc days it was examined, and
if found uninjured, the person was declared innocent.
Another plan consisted in the accused person walking
barefoot and blindfold over nine red-hot ploughshares,
placed at unequal distances. Queen Emma, mother
of Edward the Confessor, is said (upon very doubtful
authority, however) to have passed through this ordeal
triumphantly. In other instances live coals were to be
carriefi in the garments without burning them; a
heated iron glove was to be drawn on without injuring
the hand; or a person was expected to pass through a
eek pile unscathed. A more innocent ordeal was
avplied to books of doubtful tencts, when, if ortho-
dox, their destruction by the flames was considered
impossible. Eadmer tells us, that no less than fifty
persons were at one time subjected to the fire-
ordeal, in the reign of William Rufus, for suspected
infraction of the forest laws. Theodore Lascaris, in
the Eastern empire, employed the same means to de-
tect those whom he suspected of contriving magic
against him.

2. Water-ordea..—This was either by boiling water
or cold water. The ordeal of boiling water was espe-
clally, but not exclusively, employed for the detection
of adultery. A ring or piece of metal, which had been
blessed, having been thrown into a cauldron of boiling
water, the accused thrust in the hand and pulled it out;
according to the degree of the crime, the water was to
reach as high as the wrist, or elbow, or even beyond
this last. In three days the part was examined. In the
ordeal by cold water, which was employed tor the com-
mon people, the person was conducted from the church
to the pool, and bound hand and foot. The priest then
adjured the water, if he were innocent, to receive him
into its bosom; but, if he were guilty, to reject him.
He was then cast in, and if he floated, he was declared
guilty; but if he sank, he was at once drawn out by
mieans of a cord attached to his waist. This is the origin
of the custom of floating witches, which prevailed until
a comparatively recent epoch. (‘ Penny Magazine,’
vol. x., p. 111.) The permission of the use of the water-
ordeal in the church is usually attributed to Eugenius
II. It was abrogated in 829, but afterwards revived,
and very gencrally practised in the tenth, eleventh, and
twelfth centuries. Grotius gives many instances of its
use in Bithynia, Sardinia, &c. In this form of ordeal
it was expected that a miracle would be worked to
discover guilt; while in the ordeals of fire and hot
water the miracle weuld have for its object to protect
innocence.

3. Ordeal of the Euchartst.—This was usually con-
fined to monks and priests. They took the sacrament
with a solemn attestation of their innocence, and it was
believed that a guilty person would be at once smitten
with death or illness. On other occasions the person
was led to the altar, and made a most solemn oath of
his innocence upon the Gospels and sacred relics. By
the laws of Childerbert twelve compurgators were ad
mitted to swear with him.

4. Ordeal of the Cross.—This was performed dif-
ferently, according as it was applied to civil or criminal
procedures. In the former, the plaintiff and defendant
each chose a priest as his representative. These cham-
pions remained, during the period of divine service,
with their arms outstretched, so as to form the figure
of a cross, and whichever priest could endure this
asa posture longest, his client gained his cause.

n criminal cases, two pieces of stick, upon one of
which the mark of the cross was made, were hidden
amidst fine wool upon the altar. One was drawn out
by the priest, and if it proved the one marked with the
cross, the person was declared innocent.

5. The Corsned, or consecrated morsel of bread or
cheese, was a favourite ordeal with the priests for their
self-justification, in consequence of the ease of its ap-
plication. After the morsel had been placed on the
altar, and the priest had implored the angel Gabriel to
stop the passage of the culprit’s throat if guilty, it was
given to him, and if he swallowed it easily he was ac-
quitted.

6. Ordeal of the Bter.—This was used in cases of
murder, The murdered person was placed upon a
bier, and the suspected assassin desired to approach
and touch the corpse. If blood flowed from the
wounds, or the position of the body became changed,
the charge of murder was considered as proven. The
ordeal of the bier was in frequent use in the sixteenth
century, and was even resorted to on one occasion at
the commencement of the eighteenth.

Many of these ordeals might be performed by de-
puty, and indeed there was almost a class of persons
who hired themselves out for this purpose. But the
deputy did no more than suffer the risk of bodily pain,
and if he failed, the principal must take all other con-
sequences upon himself.

Tietberge (a.p. 860), daughter of the emperor Lo-
thaire, submitted, by champion, to the hot-water ordeal,
and, as he escaped unhurt, all her rights were restored
to her. Louis of Germany, being opposed by his uncle
Charles the Bold, submitted his pretensions to the or-
deal. Ten men underwent the ordeal of hot-iron, ten
of hot water, and ten of cold water, and they were all
successful. With the consent of the accuser, the arm
of a person condemned to the hot-water ordeal might
be ransomed for a certain sum of money, he then being
content with the oath of compurgators. Persons taken
in the act of murder or robbery were precluded the
ordeal.

We have already observed that the clergy contrived
to invest the ordeal with all the solemnity of a religi«
ous office. The person was delivered cver to them,
and kept nearly fasting for three days. Prior to the
ordeal, the most solemn prayers, adjurations, and hymns
were employed, in the hope of extorting the truth from
the accused, and preventing him from impiously brav-
ing what in those days must have been considered a
personal collision with almighty power. To this end
tuo the sacrament was administered, and indeed every
means had recourse to which could be supposed capa-
ble of exciting remorse and repentance. The trials
always took place either in the church or on conse-
crated ground, and avowedly under the immediate
superintendence of the priests. They were not per-
mitted on fast days and festivals. This exclusive admi-
nistration of the ordeal was by no means a contemptible
source of revenue. The various prayers, masses, and
ceremonies required each their respective remunera-
tions, while the connivance and collusion, which must
have €o at aed taken place, doubtlessly did not go
unrewarded.

But we must not suppose that these observances met
with the unlimited approbation of the church. The
canon law from an early period declared them inven-

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

[JANUARY 29

tions of the devil, and several pontiffs, preiates, ana
councils have protested against them. Agobard, arch-
bishop of Lyons, wrote warmly against the “damnable
opinion of those who pretend that God reveals his will
and judgments by the proofs of fire and water.” Yves
of Chartres strongly deprecates them, citing a letter of
Pope Stephen V. to the same effect. After one of the
councils of Lateran, in 1215, the number of theological
opponents rapidly increased, and the various practices
soon became disused, but they seem to have lingered
longer in England than elsewhere.

Many writers have hazarded conjectures as to how
far these trials by ordeal were really undergone, and
have attempted to explain how it hiapietied that so
many persons escaped unhurt. Although a few of
these believe some kind of interposition to have been

ssible, yet the great bulk seem to be of opinion that

eception and collusion were largely practised. Vol-
taire believes that the tricks of the jugglers and fire-
eaters of our own day were well known then, and, from
repeated practice, adroitly performed. Montesquicu
thinks it possible that the rude labours and habits ot
our ancestors would produce so great an induration ot
the skin of the hands, as to render their exposure to
these severe heats, for so shorta period, possible, without
the production of ill consequences visible at the end of
three days. Dinaux reminds us how frequent the oppor-
tunities for collusion were ; the accused was delivered
to the priest three days prior to the trial, he remained
alone with him while the heated materials werg prepar-
ing, and, even during the performance of the task, the
witnesses were sufficiently distant to admit of dexter-
ous substitutions and other subterfuges. A person to
whom the ordeal of fire was proposed, refused to sub-
mit to it, declaring he was neither a quack nor a gor-
cerer, and arrested the archbishop’s persuasions, by
declaring he would willingly carry the ball of hot iron,
if his reverence would kindly place it in his hands. The
priest declined “ tempting dod.” Mr. Turner con-
siders the trial by no means so formidable as it appears
at first sight, for the space to carry the iron was but
short, and, amid the delays of the prayers and distance
of the spectators, collusion was easy. Dr. Henry thus
expresses himself: ‘‘ The whole was a gross imposition
on the credulity of mankind. . . What greatly
strengthens the suspicion is, that we mect with no
example of any champion of the church who suffered
the least injury from the touch of the hot iron; but,
when any one was so fool-hardy as to appeal to it, or to
that of hot water, to deprive the church of any of her
ossessions, he never failed to burn his fingers and lose
is cause.” Beckmann considers that the three days
prior to the trial were ecadea employed in the pre-
ration of some preventive, while the masses, sprink-
ings, and other ceremonies during the trial, were in-
tended to divert attention from the legerdemain then
practising. He quotes a recipe given by the Domi-
nican Albertus Magnus, in a work which he published
on the ordeal in the thirteenth century, and which he
Say8 produces a paste protective of parts exposed to
fire. Whether these conjectures are well founded or
not, we know not, but it is certain that nearly all
cotemporary evidence is unanimous in declaring the
authenticity of these trials by ordeal. Few doubted
their reality, but many attributed the escapes to de-
moniacal rather than to heavenly or wordly influences.

{To ve Continuea,.

Gas-Lighting.—The town of Sydney was for tne first time
lighted up with gas on the 25th of May last, it being the first
city in Australia, or in fact in the Asiatic world, to which this
important invention of modern times nas been applied.

SUPPLEMENT. ]

Mi} hw

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THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

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(Soap-Boiling Coppers.)

Ir the reader will ramble some fine morning to that
little green oasis in the great world of London—the
Temple Gardens, and glance across the river, he will
see linmediately opposite to him a tall, black, bulky
chimney, distinguishable from those which surround
it by its large dimensions, and sending up its contribu-
tion to the smoky atmosphere of the metropolis. This
chimney, and the buildings with which it is connected,
poe out the spot to which our attention will be

irected in the present paper. It is true, the buildings
present few of those attractions pertaining to “ river
scenery,” nor do they add much to the famed beauties
of the “ banks of the Thames ;” but they furnish an in-
dication—one among many—of the commercial fea-
tures of the metropolis, which are by no means devoid
of interest.

We must quit the Temple Gardens, and cross Black-
friars Bridge to the Surrey side of the water, in order
to reach the spot in question. The “ way to wealth”
in London, is siueralis through some narrow, dirty,
dark, and crowded street, bounded on either side by
ranges of factories, warehouses, or wharfs; with wag-
gons and porters and cranes and bales of goods meet-
ing the eye at every few steps. A street called Upper
Ground Street, leading westward from Blackfriars
Road ata short distance from the river, although it
may not have a distinguished character as a ‘“‘ way to
wealth,” is certainly both narrow and dirty, and leads

No. 631.

to many large factories and warchouses, most of which
are situated in a part of the line called the Commercial
Road, forming the communication between Upper
Ground Street and the Waterloo Bridge Road. Amon
these factories, on the northern side of the Commercia
Road, and occupying the space between it and the
river, is the one to which our attention will be here
directed, viz. the Soap and Candle Factory of Messrs.
B. T. and W. Hawes; these gentlemen having with
great courtesy permitted us to inspect and describe the
operations conducted at this establishment.

This factory occupies the site where Queen Eliza
beth’s Barge-House formerly stood ; a building wherein
the state barge appears to have been kept, and to have
undergone the necessary repairs. A creek or dock of
some kind or other existed, into which the state barge
was brought, but of which no vestiges now remain. A
narrow pathway or passage leads down on the eastern
side of the factory to the water's edge, and is known
as ‘Old Barge-house Stairs.’ In the old maps of
London, the ‘ Old Barge-house’ is indicated as existin
on this spot; but about a century ago the house cease
to be named, and we then find ‘ Old Barge-house Stairs’
indicated. After the barge-house was removed, a glass-
factory was established here; but about seventy or
eighty years since, the manufacture of soap was com-
menced at this spot.

On entering the outer gates of the factory, we

Vou. XI.—G

42 rHE PENNY
find ourselves in an open court, with a dwelling-house
immicdiately on the left, a range of low buildings on
the right, a counting-house and offices nearly in front,
and adjacent to the latter the entrance to the main
buildings of the factory. In the open court are waggons
and carts, laden cither with the raw materials from
whence soap and candles are to be made, or with the
manufactured articles about to leave the premises. Of
the offices and counting-house we need say nothing;
they contain the usual arrangements for the partners
and clerks in the establishment. Contiguous to these
offices is a small laboratory fitted up with a furnace, a
sand-bath, a distilling apparatus, and other conveniences
for conducting the chemical analysis of soap, and for
making experiments incidental to the manufacture.
The manufacture of soap is conducted in the ware-
houses westward and northward of the offices ; the candle
department eastward ; and we will glance first through
the former, and afterwards through the latter.

The building in which the main operations of the
soap-manufacture are carried on, and which is repre-
sented in our frontispicce, covers a large area of
ground, and is nearly filled with coppers and vessels
of considerable dimensions. It is technically known in
the factory as the ‘ Copper-side ;’ but we shall perhaps
be better understood if we term it the ‘ boiling-house.’
As we pass along the central avenue of this building
from south to north, we have on the right hand a range
of coppers or boilers, nearly a dozen in number, and
averaging about cight or ten feet in diameter, the
height being between four and five. These coppers
are filled with soap or the materials for its formation,
in various stages of progress. In one the soap is nearly
in a finished state, and is about to be removed; in
another the ingredients are boiling, and sending up a
prose volume of steam ; into a third a supply ot alka-

ine liquor is being conducted, from vats whercin it is
prepared ; from a fourth the spent ley or liquor is being
pumped, after having imparted its alkaline property to
the soap ; some arc for ‘ mottled’ soap, some for ‘ yel-
low,’ come for ‘ white’ or ‘curd’ soap. According to
the time when the ‘ boiling-house’ 1s visited, so will
these operations vary, but in general the contents of the
coppers show the soap in many different degrees of for-
mation. These coppers, as in many other instances,
are oddly termed, for they are in reality iron vessels
surrounded with brick. No flues or fires of any kind
are connected with them; the boilers are heated by
steam which is constantly passing froma large boiler
which supplies all these vessels, and which is situated
in another part of the factory. The introduction of the
method of heating by steam instead of fire, in soa
factories, sugar refineries, and other establishments, is
one of the most important improvements of modern
times; economizing space and fuel, maintaining an
equable temperature, and lessening the liability to
accidents by fire. In each copper is a pump, for remov-
ing the spent ley at a particular period in the process.

Along the left hand of the avenue, through the boil-

ng-house and opposite the boilers, is a row of alkali
vats, in which the alkali is brought into a purified and
\iquid state. The alkali employed in soap-making, and
which is a crude carbonate of soda or of potash, is
brought to the factory in a dry greyish powder ; but be-
fore it can be used in the ranulactire, the carbonic
acid must be removed from the alkali, leaving the latter
in a caustic state. This we shall explain further on ;
but we here merely observe, that the vats in which this
Abarat takes place are situated a few fect to the
eft of the boiling-coppers, and that a shoot or trough
conducts the liquid alkali from the vats to the coppers.

Adjoining the boiling-house on the left is a passage
leading down to the water, through which is conveyed
the carbonate of lime resulting from the purification of

MAGAZINE. [ JANUARY, 1842,
the alkalis, a residuum which is extensively uscd as
a manure on stiff lands. Its beneficial effect is much
increased by the small quantity of alkali and salt which
it contains. Very interesting accounts have beeu pub-
lished at various times exhibiting the effect of this
manure on particular plants. A considerable quan-
tity has been shipped to the West Indies since the
abolition of slavery. On the right of the boiling-
house, and communicating with it by a door, is the
‘frame-room,’ to which the soap is conveyed after be-
ing madc; the name of frume being given to the vessel
or receptacle into which the made soap is poured, and
in which it remains till cold. The frame-room is full
of these receptacles, nearly a hundred and fifty in num-
ber, lying in ranks or rows side by side, and the rows
oe es each other. In walking between these rows
of frames we see in one place a man filling a fraine
with liquid soap; in another, men taking a frame to
pieces after the solidifying of the soap; ina third, other
men cutting up a mass ot hardened soap into slabs.

Near the frame-room is a range of warerooms, in
which the slabs of soap are cut up into bars, and then

iled up in tiers, like bricks in a wall. If ‘cleanliness
isnextto godliness,” according to the old adage, we ought
to have very pleasant thoughts while passing betwecn
these walls of soap—here ‘ mottled ’—there ‘ yellow ’—
in another part ‘curd,’ and so on; but the truth 1s,
that the odour from such a mass of soap, and the un-
avoidable absence of cleanliness in the manufacture,
somewhat disturb the pleasure of contemplating the
ulterior purpose to which the soap is to be applied. _

In other parts of the rove according to conveni-
ence, are placed the boiling-house for soft soap, and
warehouses connected with it. The soft-soap copper is
heated and managed in the same manner as the coppcrs
for the hard soaps, and holds fourteen or fifteen thou-
sand pounds of soap. As this kind of soap is not of such
consistence as to enable it to be cut into slabs or bars,
it is packed in barrels and sent from the factory in a
pasty or semi-fluid state. In connection with this part
of the factory too, are six or eight vats for de-carboniz-
ing and purifying the carbonate of potash used as the
alkali for soft soap. Some factories are built on
such a regular plan, that the visitor retains a clear
notion of the velative positions of the several parts;
but in the present case the connecting doors, passages,
and stories, between one part of the factory and another,
are so tortuous and perplexing. that we cannot be
properly topographical in our details. We can only
say, therefore, in respect of other parts of the svap-
department, that in one place is a storeroom or warc-
house for tallow ; in another, a similar depository for
alkalis; in a third, for resin (an important ingredicnt
in yellow soap); in a fourth, for oil; in another for
‘kitchen-stuff,’ an ingredient in the commoner kinds
of soap. There is one room in which barrels of palm-
oil are kept, and in which tbe oil—solid in our climate
—is melted out of the cask through the bung-hole by
means of steam. In another ge the oil thus melted
is purified and bleached, and brought into a state fit
for the soap-manufacture. Other rcoms, or portions o:
rooms, are devoted to various subsidiary processes
relating to the soap-manufacture ; but to which we need
not pay particular notice

Atter having visited the various portions of the soap-
department, we glanced through the candle-department,
which, althongh much less considerable in size, pre-
sents many ingenious arrangements and many curious
applications of the division of labour. The principal
room in this department is that in which the ‘dip’
or ‘store’ candles are made, and which we may
perhaps term the ‘dipping-room.’ This is, to the eye
of a stranger, the most singular-looking room in the
factory. It is of considerable height, having two stories

SuPPLEMENT. ]

or floors, one extending cver the bottom in the usual
way, and the other forming a kind of gallery round the
four sides, at the height of about twelve fect froin the
floor. An inclined plane leads down from the gallery
at one end to the floor at the other, consisting of a plat-
form with ledges of wood at distances of about a foot
asunder, forming a kind of an apology for a flight of
stairs: it 1s, indecd, a kind of staircase, such as is used
by ship-builders to ascend the sides of a ship, and is
adapted by the sinallness of its angle of elevation for
the ascent of persons carrying loads. The floor or
sround of the room is devoted to the manufacture of
the candles, and the gallery to some subsequent
Operations. Along the middle of the floor is a row
of cisterns, filled with tallow in a hot and melted
state, which is kept at a proper temperature. Around
the room on all four sides, and distant a few feet
from the cisterns, are reservoirs or vessels of melted
tallow, filled from the central cisterns, and con-
sumed in the process of making candles. Between and
above are candles, or the skeletons of candles, hanging
in thousands; some having had only a single garment
of tallow to cover the nakedness of the wicks; some
more plentifully coated ; and some nearly in a finished
state. On three sides of the room men are making
candles by the aid of the machines which we shall speak
of by and bye; while in other parts of the room other
men are ‘dipping’ according to the method in use before
the invention of the machines. Here, a man is reple-
nishing the supply of hot tallow in his dipping-cistern,
from the cisterns in the middle of the room; there, is a
boy removing the made candles from the machines,
and fitting on a new supply of wicks ; while other men
and boysare busied in various parts of the manufacture.

On ascending the inclined plane to the gallery, we

see near the outer edge of the gallery candles hanging
on sticks; and round the gallery, next the wall, are a
series of werk-benches or tables, at each of which a
man and a boy are engaged, the one to weigh the
candles, according as they are ‘ eights,’ ‘ tens,’ ‘twelvcs,’
&c.,—denominations too well known to every housewife
to need explanation; and the other to fasten the
candles on a string. Inasmall room attached to the
candle department is kept the store of rushes for mak-
ing rushlights; they are gathered in Lancashire, and
brought to town in bundles weighing a few pounds
each. In another room are sacks or bags filled with
cotton, wound up in balls of about three pounds weight.
There is also a beautiful machine, at which a man is
engaged in making wicks for ‘ mould’ and ‘ dip’ candles.
A third room, larger than those just alluded to, is the
‘mould-room,’ in which the mould candles are made,
by the aid of an elaborate and ingenious machine.
Connected with the candle department, also, are the
requisite stores and warerooms for the commercial ar-
rangements of the establishment.

Besides the various buildings and rooms belonging
articularly to the soap or candle departments of the
actory, there are mechanical and other arrangements

of a general kind, which need not much description.
In convenient parts of the factory are two steam-
engines of different horse-power. Near these is a
blacksmith’s shop, for the repair and adjustment of
various kinds of iron-work used in the factory. The
smoke from the different flues and furnaces is con-
ducted into a square or rather pyramidal chimney of
large dimensions, being twenty-one feet square at the
bottom, six feet square at the top, and a hundred and
twenty feet in height. A carpenter’s shop furnishes the
conveniences for making packing-cases, boxes, &c. for
the commercial department. Lastly, and perhaps to the
manufacturers the least pleasant of all—there are rooms
and offices fitted up for the Excise-officers, one or
more of whom are in the factory day and night. It

THE PENNY

MAGAZINE. 43
is a great blot upon the fiscal arrangemcuts of this
country, and one which seriously affects the manufac-
ture of malt, of glass, of soap, and many other articles,
that in order to collect the duties levied on these com-
modities, the officers of the Excise are empowered to
control, as it were, every step of the processes, and to
regulate the extent to which any improvement in the
operations may be carried. It is not the amount of
duty collected to which we here refer; this is another
subject: it is the mode of collection which is so ob-
Jectionable, by imposing impolitic checks to the natu-
ral course of improvement in manufacturing processes.
Considerable amcliorations have, within a recent pe-
riod, been made in the mode of collecting the revenue,
and the survey of the premises of soap inanufacturers ;
and under the able superintendence of the present
chairman of the Excise (Mr. Wood), the manufacturers
feel confident that, odious as the collection of the
Excise revenue must be, every facility consistent with
the security of the revenue will be afforded for the in-
troduction of improvements and the protection of the
fair trader.

It is almost impossible to calculate the benefits
which would result to our manufactures if the Excise
could be abolished, or the amount of the tax so re-
duced as to remove the temptation for the commission of
frauds. The fair trader is doubly injured by them ; he is
injured by the reduction he is obliged tosubmit to in the
price of his commodity, in consequence of the compe-
tition with the smuggler, and almost to a greater
degree from the restrictions which are necessarily
imposed upon him for the protection of the revenue.
These oblige him to manufacture not according to his
judgment, but as directed by law; the ignorant and
intelligent are thus placed upon the same footing, and
the dishonest or fraudulent trader is in a more ad-
vantageous position than either. The success which
has attended the reduction of the duty from 28/. to
14/, 14s. per ton proves the truth of these observations,
and could this amount be further reduced, so that, hke
the penny postage, soap should be within the reach of
all, no one who has studied the statistics of this manu-
facture can doubt but that in a short time, by lessening
fraud, and increasing consumption, a larger revenue
would be produced. The quantity of soap charged
with duty for home consumption had been decreasing
froin 1828 to 1832, the year preceding the reduction,
when the duty was charged upon 91,000,000lbs. In
1834, the year after the reduction, it increased to
104,796,000 lbs., showing an increase of 14 per cent. in
two years. It has since gradually increased to
127,000,000 Ibs. in 1840. This quantity, however, it is
believed does not indicate accurately the total quan-
tity made. The population of Great Britain is now
18,540,000. The most accurate calculations prove
that the consumption of soap in the families of ar-
tizans earning trom twenty to thirty shillings per
week is 10 lb. per head per annum, and in families
above this class from 121bs. to 25 lbs. per head. Now,
the quantity used per head in 1840 was 6} lbs., a smaller
quantity thanis used in workhouses or prisons, or than
is allowed to soldiers; but if half only of the popula-
tion are in such circumstances as to use the quantity
ascertained, by very extended inquiry, to be used by ar-
tizans, and making no allowance for the extra quantity
used by the other classes, we are driven to the conclu-
sion either that nearly one-half of our population use
no soap, or that a very large quantity is made and not
charged with duty. To these facts the attention of the
Excise is now directed. A supcrior class of officers
is being introduced, and it appears likely that whilst
the maker will no longer be sabe! to unnecessary or
vexatious restrictions at the caprice of an exciseman,
greater security will be afforded to the sabe ee

”

We must now return to the factory, and having no-
ticed the arrangement of coppers, boilers, engines,
frames, moulds, cisterns, pumps, &c., it may be well
to give such an account as the nature and object of

this paper permit, of the operations conducted therein, °

certain raw materials are
converted into the well-known forms of soap and
candles. Strictly speaking, there is a great deal of
chemical nicety involved in the manufacture, both in
theory and practice; but this is not the place where
such matters can be consistently treated in a scientific
manner. A rapid sketch of the nature and sources of
the materials employed, and of their gradual trans-
formation into the manufactured articles, will fill up
the measure of our object.

Soap is designated in the ‘Penny Cyclopxdia’ as a
compound derived from the union between fat or oily
substances and alkalis; and the nature of its forma-
tion is sal eae in the following terms :—* It has
been found by Chevreul that different varietics of fatt
matter consist chiefly of two parts: one hard, to whic
he gave the naine of stearin; and the other soft, which
he termed olein. He also discovered that stearin is
composed of stearic acid, and a peculiar principle,
which, on account of its sweet taste, he named
Sean. When, in the manufacture of soap, an
alkali (soda for example) is heated with tallow, the
soda gradually dislodges the glycerin from combina-
tion with the stearic and olcic acids, and by combining
with them, forms soap, or, in other words, a compound
of stearate and oleate of soda, and the glycerin remains in
solution.” That the manufacture of this substance from
the two classes of ingredients here mentioned has been
long known is sufficiently indicated by a circumstance
mentioned by Mr. Parkes in his ‘Chemical Essays ’°-—
*‘ On examining the excavations that were made on the
spot where this famous city (Pompeii) formerly stood,
a complete soapboiler’s shop was discovered, with soap
In it, which had evidently been made by the combina-
tion of oil and an alkali. This soap was still perfect,
though it had been manufactured more than seventcen
hundred years.”

There is a curious account of this trade in a small
pamphlet, printed for Nicholas Bourne, in 1641, en-
titled ‘A Short and True Narrative concerning the
Soap Business.’ It contains an account of a patent
granted toa Company for the exclusive manufacture of
soap, under the title of the ‘ Governor, Assistants, and
Fellows of the Socicty of Soapmakers of Westminster’
(1622), on condition of their paying to his majesty 4.
per ton on 5000 tons annually. The manufacturers of
that day (twenty in number) refused to join and ac-
knowledge this Company; whercupon the Company
obtaincd a proclamation forbidding, amongst other
things, the sale of soap which had not been assayed by
the Company. An information was then exhibited in
the Star Chamber (1633) against sixteen London
makers for opposing and affronting the letters patent;
to which the defendants pleaded and demurred, &c.,
and after much discussion (all the defendants having
been committed to prison for having put in their answer
one day too late) the judges certified “ all the answer
except the first four words and last ten as fit to be
expunged ;” and it was decreed that the defendants be
imprisoned during his majesty’s pleasure, and fined in
various sums from 1500/. to 500/. All were sent to
prison. Fourteen remained there for forty weeks, and
two dicd in prison. These tyrannical acts were fol-
lowed by various proclamations and orders in council
restricting the manufacture of soap except by the
patentecs, and fixing the price at which soap should be
sold, and the inaterials from which it should be made.
In 1635 many other soapmakers were committed to
prison, and greater power was given by proclamation

and of the steps by whic

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

(January, 1842.

to the patentees upon their covenanting to pay 6/. per
ton on five thousands tons annually. Ina short time,
however, the patentces, having “ vexed the whole
kingdom with their soap for three years,” obtained a
warrant from his majesty (1637) for 40,0002. for giving
up the patent, and 3000/. for thcir houses, and obliged
the soapmakers of London to pay them 20,000/. for
their materials, so that they might have use of their
trade again, of which they had heen deprived.
Little is known of the trade from this time to 1704,
when Queen Anne imposed the first Excise duty.
Several pamphlets and statements, on half-sheets, are
to be found in the British Museum, containing peti-
tions to be relieved from taxes, &c., but there is no
account of the quantity manufactured.

As there are many kinds of fat and oil, and two
very distinct kinds of alkali employed, it naturally
follows that the soap will possess different qualities,
and present different appearances, according to the in-
gredients,

Mottled soap is made from tallow, soda, a little
‘kitchen-stuff,’ a minute quantity of salt, and water.
Its analysis is—alkali,6°5; grease, 62°35; water, 31:0:
total, 100. The tallow principally employcd in the svap-
factories of England is brought from Russia, and is
exported from thence ina solid state in barrels. So
large a quantity of this substance is used in England,
that about thirteen hundred thousand cwts. are imn-
ported every year, yielding to the revenue some-
where about two hundred thousand pounds sterling.
This supply is obtained principally from Russia, five-
sevenths of whose exported tallow are sent to England.
The tallow arrives in this country ima tolerably pure
state, and requires no preparation previous to its em-

loyinent in making soap. ‘The heterogeneous substance
haow to domestic servants and ‘ dealers In marine-
stores’ by the name of kitchen-stuff, although very
impure, is capable of being cleansed and refined, and
used in the same manner and for the same purposes
as tallow: it is heated ina copper, strained, and other-
wise freed from the extraneous substances which are
mingled with the tallow. It is only in the coarser
kinds of soap that this material is used.

The alkali used for mottled soap is soda, the gradual
changes in the production of which form a curious
episode in the history of the cued Rea Al-
though the form in which the alkali is used by the
manufacturer is that of caustic soda, almost or entirely
free from any acids, yct the state in which it is sold
is that of a carbonate, more or less mingled with im-
purities. The barilla and kelp were until lately the
only sources from which this alkali was derived; the
one of foreign production, and the other British.
Barilla is a kind of ash obtained by burning a South-
European plant called the Salsola soda, which plant
is cultivated with great care by the Spaniards and
the Italians. A few years since there were 6000 tons
ta else annually from Spain, Sicily, and Sardinia ;
and formerly the quantity was much greater.

Kelp, another form of the carbonate of soda, alluded
to above, is the ash remaining after the burning of sea-
weed, and was introduced into the London market for
the use of the soap trade by Mr. Hawes, the father of
the members of the present firm. It contains only a
little of the alkaline salt, but a large quantity of
common salt, some salts of potash, and other sub-
stances. Previous to the year 1822, a duty of eleven
or twelve shillings per cwt. being laid on barilla, a
considerable quantity of kelp was made on the coasts
of Ireland; and about a century ago from the pre-
sent time the manufacture was begun in Scotland,
where, in consequence, the land in certain localities
by the sea-shore became greatly advanced in value,
very large annual revenues being derived from estates

THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 45

SuPPLEMENT. }
which had previously been wholly unproductive.
Dr. M‘Culloch gives a graphic account of the kelp
manufacture in its most flourishing state :—‘ The kelp
season had now commenced, and the whole shore was
one continued line of fires; the grey smoke streaming
away from each om the surface of the water, till, mix-
ing with the breeze, it diffused its odoriferous haze
over all the surrounding atmosphere. . . The weeds,
being cut by the sickle at low-water, are brought on
shore bya very simple and ingenious process. A rope
of heath or birch 1s laid beyond them, and the ends
being carried up beyond the high-water mark, the
whole floats as the tide rises, and thus, by shortening
the ropes, is compelled to settle above the wash of the

of which in sufficient quantities to supply the soap and
glass makers has for some years employed large capi-
tals and many hundreds of workmen. This alkali, or
‘white ash,’ as it is called, made from salt, has driven
kelp and barilla out of use. It is produced by treat-
ing common salt in a peculiar manner with sulphuric
acid, from which there result muriatic acid and sul-
ha of soda; this sulphate is converted into a car-

onate of soda by contact with carbon; and, lastly,
the carbonic acid is driven from the carbonate, leaving
the soda in a caustic state, and forming, when in solu-
tion with water, the liquor which soapmakers call a ley
or lye. The ley is pumped out of the vats into the
boilers, whete it is mixed with the requisite quantity

sea, whence it is conveyed to dry land on horseback. | of tallow, and any other fatty substance whith may be
The more quickly it is dried the better the produce ; a ea The mixture is then heated by steam,
and when dry it is burned in coffers, generally con- | and well boiled, an attendant stirring the mass occa-

sionally. After a time the tallow is found to have
combined with a portion of the ley, including all the
alkali, and the remaining, or spent ley, is then of no
further tse in the process. It is pumped up from
beneath the soap by a pump whose batrel descends
| to the bottom of ae copper; and a fresh supply of ley
is introduced. Again and again is this proccss re-
| peated, new leys being ititroduced after the spent
; liquor is withdrawn, and the leys being used in a
' stronger or more alkaline state as the process ad-
/ vances towards completion. When the soap is nearly
finished, that peculiar appearance to which it owes the
name of ‘mottled’ soap is given to it by sprinklin

structed with stone, sometimes merely excavated in
the earth. In Orkney the latter are preferred. As
twenty-four tons of weed at a medium are required to
form a ton of kelp, it is easy to conceive the labour
employed for this quantity in the several processes of
cutting, landing, carrying, drying, stacking, and burn-

Ing.’

fiow strangely do variations in one branch of com-
merce affect the arrangements of another! Twenty
years ago common table-salt was sold at four or five
pence per pound; but when the duty was wholly re-
inoved, this price fell to one halfpenny. Manufac-
turers immediately turned their attention to this sub-
stance, as a source whence saleable commodities might | upon the surface a small quantity of very dense an
be produced. Common salt is formed of chlorine and | strong ley; this percolates slowly through the mass of
sodium, and by chemical agency the two can be sepa- | soap, and leaves in its track those dark-coloured veins
rated, and each one made to combine with some other | which constitute sa!
substance. Such has been the case in respect to the | When the tallow and alkali have completely formed
soda used in the soap-manufacture: by far the greater | into soap, and have attained a proper consistency, the
part of it is produced from the sodium which forms one | soap is laded from the coppers in buckets or pails, and
of the ingredients in common salt, the decomposition ' conveyed to the frame-room, where it is poured into

(Filling Soap-frames.]

the frames. These frames have, until within the last '
few years, been made wholly of wood, but cast-iron

frames are now occasionally used. The wooden frame

is a kind of well or cistern, formed of a pile or heap of
frames laid one on another. Each separate part con-
sists of a rectangle of four bars of wood, measuring
internally forty-five inches by fifteen ; and

angles are laid one upon another to a height ot ten or
twelve feet. The bars of the rectangles are so neatly
squared and smoothed, as to fit closely one upon an-
other. The mottled soap is poured into these frames
until full, and there allowed to remain till cold, which
occupies more or less time according to the state of tne

these rect- ! weather.

46 THE PENNY MAGAZINE

_ When the mass of soap is cold and solidified, some
iron fastenings, with which the rectangles of the frame
were firmly bound together, are loosened, and the rect-
angles removed one by one, each one being lifted off
the mass of soap. The soap is then presented to view
as a compact body, whose dimensions are those of the

(Cutting Soap.)

interior cavity of the frame. Some of these masses of
soap weigh three or four thousand pounds each. The
next process is to cut the mass into slabs or slices
about three inches in thickness. To effect this a man
marks the surface of the soap with parallel lines, by
means of sharp points inserted in a gauge-stick ; and
two men draw a piece of wire through the soap in the
direction of each mark, one man holding the wire by
handles at the ends, and the other guiding the wire to
the proper marks. The slabs are next taken to a
machine in the form of a hollow box open at the top,
with vertical crevices passing from the top nearly to
the bottom of two opposite sides. The slabs being
rauged horizontally in this box, a piece of wire is
passed down each of the crevices in succession, cutting
through the slabs in its progress. As the crevices are
about three inches apart, it follows that the slabs are
cut into bars about three inches wide and the same in
depth, the length being about fifteen inches. These
are the bars in which soap is sold in the shops. After
the cutting, the bars of soap are piled one upon an-
other in the form of a wall, and kept in that state for
a certain time until required to be removed from the
factory.

For curd or white soap the same general descrip-
tion will suffice as applies to mottled, with some minor
exceptions. As its whiteness is one of its chief charac-
teristics, the tallow is selected with more care, and no
ingredients are introduced which will be liable to
deteriorate the colour. The process of mottling is in
this case dispensed with; but the general outline of
processes, such as the de-carbonising of the alkali, the
melting and boiling of the ingredients, the framing,
the cutting, &c., is much the same as in the manufac-
ture of mottled soap.

Yellow soap is less expensive than white or mottled ;
and it owe’ this cheapness, as well as its colour, and
certain properucs which it possesses, to the large ein-
ployment of palm oil and resin in its composition.
Although resin is in appearance very different from
tallow, yet it possesses the same property of melting
and combining with an alkali, | forming a soap by
the combination. The analysis differs little in pure
suap from that of mottled, and consists generally of
6 alkali, 62 grease, 32 water. Inferior soap, although
in appearance nearly the same, contains from 10 to 20
per cent. more water, the knowledge of which will, we

(JANUARY, 1842,

hope, be useful to our readers. The nature and source
of resin are simply as follows :—From several specics of
the pine-tree there exudes, when an incision is made, a
grey-coloured semi-fluid substance, known in com-
merce by the name of turpentine. This turpentine has
the distinctive names of Venice, Strassburg, Carpa-
thian, Canada, Cyprus, and common turpentine, ac-
cording to the countries whence it is brought, and the
species of pine from which it exudes. By distillation
common turpentine yields the oil or essence of turpen-
tine. and the solid residue constitutes resin.

Palm.oil is obtained from the oil-palm of Guinea,
cultivated in the western parts of Africa. The fruit
of this tree is ovoid, about the size of a pigeon’s
egg, with its outer fleshy covering of a golden
yellow colour. The oil is obtained by bruising the
ficshy part of the fruit, and subjecting the bruised
paste to boiling water in wooden mortars: an oil of an
orange-yellow colour separates, which concretes, when
cool, to the consistence ot butter, and has, when fresh, the
smell of violets, and a slightly sweetish taste. The
Africans use this oil in cookery, and for anointing the
body; but when imported into England, it is used in
soap-making, in perfumery, and in inedicine, for which
purposes two or three hundred thousand cwts. are used
annually. When brought to the soap-factory it is in
casks in a solid state; and the mode adopted for ex-
tracting it, is to place the cask over a trough with its
bunghole downwards, and to pass a steam-pipe into
the cask, by which means the palin-oil is brought toa
liquid state and made to flow out of the cask. The oil
is afterwards conveyed to a vat, where it is bleached by
a chemical process. The use of this oil in soap, or
wherever it can be introduced, is a matter of as much
Or more importance to the philanthropist and the
statesman than to the soap manufacturer. The latter
looks at it merely as a good and cheap ingredient; the
philanthropist views it as the most powerful instru-
ment he can employ in the abolition of the traffic in
slaves; the statesman feels that it secures to our manu-
facturers a most lucrative barter trade, free from fiscal
regulations, which impede our commerce with old
States. Every cargo of oil bought with our manu-
factures does more to impede the traffic in slaves
than a host of treaties and protocols with European
states.

The mode of preparing the alkali for yellow soap,
the process of melting and boiling it with the tallow
and resin, and the general routine of manufacture, dif-
fer but ):ttle from those relating to mottled soap. The
frames used are, however, very different. They are
made of five pieces of cast-iron: one for the bottom,
two for the sides, and two for the ends. “| a simple
mode of fat:ening at the edges, the whole can be
quickly put together, so as to form a sort of well or
cistern, Cian four and five feet high, forty-five
inches long, and fifteen wide. Into these frames the
yellow soap is poured, the contents of cach being
about fifteen cwt. These frames are not only put
together and taken to pieces with more case than the
wooden frames, but the iron being a good conductor of
heat, the process of cooling is cffected more rapidly.
The cutting of yellow soap into slabs and bars is ef-
fected in the same way as that of mottled.

Soft soap, a commodity which 1s almost exclusively
used in the woollen inanufacture, differs considerably
froin hard soap in its ingredients, its consistence, and
its general appearance. Both the alkaline and the
oleaginous ingredients are different from those eim-
ployed in hard soaps; since potash is Sales instead
of soda, and oils are more largely used than tallow.
This soap, when of good quality, consists of alkali 9,
oil and tallow 42, water 49; total 100. The potash
employed in the soap-manufacture is brought prin.

—=—_

SuPPLEMENT. |

cipally from Canada and the United Statcs.* The
carbonate of potash is rendered causti€, that is, free
from carbonic acid, by a process similar to that adopted
for the soda alkali; and several of the vats in the soap
factory are employed for this purpose.

The oils employed in soft soap, whether whale, seal,
olive, or linseed, are procured in the usual way, from
the blubber of the two former, the fruit of the third,
and the seed of the fourth, and need no particular de-
scription. Nor does the mode of combining the ingre-
dients to form this kind of soap require any lengthened
notice. It may, however, be remarked, that instead
of supplying successive portions of alkaline ley to the
boiler, and pumping out the spent ley at intervals, the
whole of the ley is supplied at once, and kept boiling
with the oils and tallow until the soap is made. The
use of the tallow employed is to give consistency to the
oil soap, the general quality of which is indicated by
the gradual formation of white specks throughout the
ral which arise from the combination of the tallow
with the salts of potash. Soft soap, as its name imports,
has a consistence which renders useless the processes
of framing and cutting: it is placed in barrels or casks,
when finished, and in that state sent from the factory.

With respect to the large variety of soaps known as
‘toilet,’ ‘fancy,’ or ‘ perfumed’ soaps, little need be said
here. They are generally made from good white soap,
which is remelted and modified in its form and ap-
pearance by perfumes and other substances. None of
these fancy soaps are made at this factory; they are
either the production of persons who devote their at-
tention principally to the manufacture, or else of per-
fumers, who apply the fanciful terms —* soap a la rose,’
‘soap au bouquet,’ ‘cinnamon soap,’ ‘Windsor soap,’
‘musk soap,’ ‘almond soap,’ &c., to their manufac-
tures.

Let us now turn our attention from the manufacture
of soap to that of candles, a branch of art exceedingly
simple and free from technical difficulties.

Candles can be made from any fatty substance which,
at ordinary temperatures, is in a solid state: wax,
spermaceti, and tallow being the usual substances em-
ployed. That very essential part of a candle —the wick
—performs an office which involves a scrap of philo-
sophy not always well understood. The wick is com-
posed of a dozen or more fibres of soft cotton, ranged
side by side, and having just sufficient twist given to
them to make them cling together. The threads are
not so close together but that oil, or tallow in a melted
state, will ascend between them, by virtue of that ea-
pillary attraction which will cause a piece of loaf-sugar
to become wet throughout if placed on a wet spot.
When a candle is lighted, the heat melts the upper part
of the tallow, which then ascends between the fibres
of the wick, and furnishes minute streams of combus-
tible matter as fast as the oxygen of the air will con-
sume it in the form of flame. The current of air con-
stantly supplying oxygen to the flame, also performs
an important duty. It keeps the outer surface of the
tallow cool, causes the formation of the ‘cup’ which
contains the melted tallow that otherwise would run
down and disfigure the candle, and render it unfit for
use. The tallow, then, is the combustible matter, and
the wick is the series of little tubes through which it
ascends to the flame.

Wax-candles are not made at the factory to which
our attention is directed, but a word or two may be
said as to their manufacture. The wicks being cut and
twisted, a set of them is suspended over a basin or ves-
sel of melted wax, which is taken up by a large ladle
and poured from time to time on the tops of the wicks.

* See ‘Penny Magazine,’ No. 573, for an account of the
manufacture of potash

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

The melted wax, as it flows downwards, adheres to and
covers the wicks throughout their length. This is re-
peated until a sufficient weight of wax has been ga-
thered opon each. After the candles are sufficiently
cooled, they are rolled upon a smooth table in order to
give them a perfectly cylindrical form, and are then
polished.

We have said that at Messrs. Iawes’s factory there is
a very ingenious machine for making mould.-candles.
It is generally known that candles of this kind occupy
a medium rank between wax and ‘dip’ candles, re-
sembling the former in regularity of shape, and the
latter in material. Usually mould-candles are made
as follows:—From ten to sixteen cylindrical pewter
moulds are placed together in a wooden frame, so that
their upper ends terminate in a kind of trough com-
mon to the whole. The wicks are inserted and kept
firmly in their proper places in the centre of each cy-
linder by strong wires. The frame being then placed
with the trough uppermost, the moulds are filled with
melted tallow, and are placed in the air to cool, after
which the wires by which the wicks have been fixed
are withdrawn, the superfluous tallow is removed
from the trough, and the candles are pulled out of the
moulds.

In this machine for making mould-candles man
features of an entirely different kind are introduced.
The wick, instead of being cut off to the exact length
required for each candle, is wound on a reel in
lengths of one hundred feet, of which there are as
many as there are moulds. In a kind of case or
frame are enclosed a certain number of moulds, with a
reel of cotton attached to each. A portion of cotton is
unwound from each reel, and made to pass through
a mould, the lower end of which is only large enough
to admit of the passage of the wick, and is held in its
bee by a pair of forceps. The frame or case is then

rought under a kind of box or cistern, into which
melted tallow of a fine and pure quality is poured.
By turning a handle, the melted iallow is allowed to
flow out of as many little holes as there are moulds,
and thus the moulds become filled. As the moulds fill,
@ inan pulls the wick in each mould straight and uni-
form, by laying hold at the lower end. When one sct
is filled, the frame which contains them is wheeled
along a kind of railroad, and another is filled in a si-
milar manner. As soon as the tallow has solidified, a
workman discngages the forceps, and scrapes the su-

erfluous material from the upper ends of the moulds.

he fraine is then turned so as to bring the moulds into
a horizontal position; and by a beautiful adaptation of

p’dem — iy,
NW ee
a >s Ss

{Morgan’s Moud-Machine. a, mould-eandies; 8, moulds, through shick
the candles are pushed by the rods ¢ J

48 THE PENNY
machinery, the candles are forced out of the moulds
and thrown on a table in parallel lines. The wicks
in these candles are still connected with the coils of
cotton wound round the little recls in the frames or
cases; but the whole are severed in a few seconds b
the attendant workman, when the candles are finished.
All the mould- frames move along a double line of rail-
road, and the whole of the arrangements are so judi-
ciously nade that a man and a boy can manage the
whole, and produce a surprising number of mould-
candles in a short time.

The common ‘dip’ or ‘store’ candles are made, as
most persons are aware, by dipping the wicks into a
vessel containing melted tallow, a small coating of
which adheres to the cotton fibres, as do likewise the
subsequent coatings to that first laidon. The wicks
are prepares at the factory in the following manner :—
Balls of cotton, each weighing about three pounds,
are procured from Manchester or the surrounding dis-
trict, the cotton being previously made into a loose
roving or cord, consisting of a dozen or more threads
slightly cohering. These cords (if we may so term
them) are of different thicknesses, according to the size
of the intended wick; the wick for those candles
known as ‘eights,’ for example, containing thirteen
cottou threads. A great number of these balls are
carried to the wick-making machine, and put into a
box or drawer. A man takes the ends of all these

balls, doubles a portion of each cord round a broach or
stick, and by a sharp blade (somewhat like that by
which tobacco is shred) cuts all the cottons to the

Pe al
ah
pe
ee “ r

{Machine for cutting the Wicks for Dip-candles.}

roper lengths for wicks, giving to the whole of them,
y the action of the machine, a slight twist before he
removes them. One stick-full of wicks being thus
made, another is prepared in a similar manner; and

thus the preparation of wicks proceeds with great ra-
pidity. y this machine one man will prepare the
wicks for fourteen or sixteen makers. e wicks for

some candles are twisted or spun ip a particular man-
ner, but this is effected at the cotton-manufactory.

In making dip-candles by hand, a man takes three
broaches or sticks, each containing as many wicks as
will suffice for about two pounds of candles, and hoid-
ing them parallel apd horizontal, dips the wicks into a
trough of melted tallow. This he does two or three
times, and then lightly draws the lower ends of the
wicks over a sloping board, to remove the drainings of
tallow. These three broaches are hung up for the tal-
low to dry and harden; another sct are similarly

MAGAZINE. [JANUARY, 1842.
treated, and so on. When the first dipping or ‘lay’ is
dry, the coaté@ wicks are dipped a second time; after-
wards a third and a fourth; the number of repetitions
depending on the size of the intended candles, and
being about twelve for the candles known as ‘twelves.°
By the machines now employed, however, the ope-
rations are surprisingly hastened. At the time we wit-
nessed the processes at the factory, one of the machines
was employed in making ‘twelves,’ and was thus ar-
ranged :—Twenty-four candles were hung on each
broach or stick ; thirty broaches were ranged side b
side, and formed an assemblage called a ‘frame;’ an
thirty-six of these frames were attached to or suspended
from the machine, so that the entire number of candles
attached to the machine amounted to nearly twenty-six
thousand, the whole of which were made, by one man
and a boy, between six o'clock in the morning and four
in the afternoon of the same day. In the front of each

> eS

(Dipping-machine.)

machine is a vessel of melted tallow, and the thirty- ~
six ‘frames’ are so attached to the machine, that each
can, in its turn, be brought over the tallow vessel, and
the candles dipped in it. A piece of apparatus, called
a ‘wiping-board,’ is, after each dipping, ingeniously
brought down, by a lever moved by the foot, over the
cistern; the ends of the candles are wiped on it, and
the board rapidly re-ascends to its former position.
There are two varieties of dipping-machines used at
this factory, differing somewhat in the mechanical ar-
rangement whereby the ‘frames’ are brought over the
melted tallow, but similar in respect of the great
saving in time and labour occasioned by their use.
When the candles have been mpped a sufficient num-
ber of times (which is known by the use of a kind of
steelyard or balance-weight indicating the total weight
of all the candles on the machine), and are properly
hardened, they are weighed up into pounds, and hung
upon strings, the former by men, and the latter by
boys, each of whom exhibits great dexterity and quick-
ness in the operation.

Those long and slender candles known as ‘rush-
lights’ differ only from common dip-candles in the
material of which the wick is made. Instead of fibres
of cotton, the wicks are made of dry rushes, which have
a loop made at one end by ee the rush with a
sharp instrument, and are then cut to the required
length by a gauge or knife. The dipping is conducted
much in the same manner as for common candles, ex-
cept that, from the comparatively small number re-
quired, the machine is not emp oyed. Taking the
‘moulds,’ ‘dips,’ and ‘ rushlights* together, there have
been as many as twenty millions of candles made in
this factory in one year.

1842. }

THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 49

(“ And an old porter to relieve the poor at his gate.’’]

THE OLD AND YOUNG COURTIER.

Tue whole of the sixteenth century was marked by
important changes of every kind—political; religious,
and social. The wars with France and the internal
contests of the Roses were over, and the energy of the
Nation was directed to new objects. Trade and coim-
merce were extended; fresh sources of wealth were
developed ; and new classes of society sprung into
importance, whose riches enabled them to outvie the
‘old landed gentry, but who had few of their hereditary
tastes and habits. Hence the innovation of old cus-
toms, and the decay of ancient manners, to which the
ein coir ight were compelled to conform. The
ollowing old song, which is printed in the ‘ Percy
Reliques,’ from an ancient black-letter copy in the
‘ Pepys Collection,’ is a lament over the changes which
had taken place in the early part of the seventeenth
century, a8 compared with the days of ‘ Queen Bess.’
An account of some of the most striking of these changes
will appear in future numbers, and we now give this
favourite old song by way of introduction :—
“ An old song made b wich ge ig

t
Of an old worshipful gentleman, who had a great estate,
That kept a brave old house at a bountiful rate,

And an old r to relieve the poor at his gate ;
Like an old courtier of the queen's,
And the queen's old vourtier.

No. 632.

With an old lady, whose anger one word assuages
This (who) every quarter jan their old servants theic wages,
And never knew what belonged to coachmen, footmen, nor

pages
But kept twenty old fellows with blue coats and badges ;
Like an old courtier, &c.

With an old study fill’d full of learned old books,
With an old reverend chaplain, you might know him by his
looks
With an old buttery hatch worn quite off the hooks,
And an old kitchen, that maintained half a dozen old cooks ;
Like an old courtier, &c.

With an old hall hung about with pikes, guns, and bows,
With old swords and bucklers, that had borne many shrewd
blows
And an old frieze coat to cover his worship's trunk hose,
And a cup of old sherry to comfort his copper nose ;
Like an old courtier, &c.

With a good old fashion, when Christmas was come,

To call in all his old neighbours with bagpipe and drum,

With good cheer enough to furnish every old room,

And old liquor able to make a cat speak and man dumb ;
Like an old courtier, &c.

With an old falconer, huntsman, and a kennel of hounds,

That never hawked nor hunted but in his own grounds,

Who, like a wise man, kept himself within his own bounds,

And when he died gave every child a thousand good pounds ;
Like an old courtier, &c.

Vou. XI.—H

50 THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

>
But to his eldest son his house and land he assigned,
Charging him in his will to keep the old bountiful mind,
To be good to his old tenants, and to his neighbours be kind:
But in the ensuing ditty you shall hear how he was inclin'd;
Like a young courtier of the king’s,
And the king's young courtier.
Like a flourishing young gallant, newly come to his land,
Who keeps a brace of painted madams at his command,
And takes up a thousand pounds upon his father's land,
Aud gets drunk in a tavern till he can neither go nor stand ;
Like a young courtier, &c.
With a new-fangled lady, that is dainty, nice, and spare,
Who never knew what belonged to good housekeeping or care,
Who buys gaudy-coloured fans to play with wanton air,
And seven or eight different dressings of other women’s hair ;
Like a young courtier, &c.
With a new-fashioned hall, built where the old one stood,
Hung round with new pictures that do the poor no good,
With a fine marble chimney, wherein burus neither coal nor
wood,
And a new smooth shovel-board whereon no victuals ne'er
stvod ;*
Like a young courtier, &c.
With a new study stuff'd full of pamphlets and plays,
And a new chaplain that swears faster than he prays,
With a new buttery hatch that opens once in four or five days,
And a new French cook to devise fine kickshaws and toys ;
Like a young courtier, &c. |
With new titles of honour, bought with his father's old gold,
For which sundry of his ancestors’ old manors are sold ;
And this is the course most of our new gallants hold,
Which makes that good housekeeping is now grown so cold;
Among the young courtiers of the king,
Or the king’s young courtiers.”

THE PRESSURE OF AIR, IN RELATION TO
THE HUMAN BODY.

Mepicat men and travellers in elevated regions
have frequently had occasion to remark the varied
effects produced on the human body by the pressure of
the atmosphere; but the real extent of these effects is
probably not yet understood. Hitherto atmospheric
pressure has been more studied in relation to acrosta-
tion, weather, the construction and use of the air-
puinp, and other matters pertaining more or less to
natural philosophy, than to its effects on man; and in-
deed, until observations had been made and recorded
by travellers and acronauts who have ascended into re-
gions where the air 1s much rarefied, the means for
studying its physiological effects were wanting.

It is a well-known truth in pneumatics, that the hu-
man body, as well as all substances at the surface of the
earth, are pressed by the air with a weight of several
pounds per square inch, and that the lungs are fitted
to perform the office of inspiration and respiration in
an atmosphere of that density. At every act of inspi-
rauon, or drawing-in of breath, the quantity inhaled is
in some degree dependent on the density of the air,
since the same amount of muscular exertion in the
lungs will not necessarily lead to the inhalation of the
fame quantity of air. The density of the air and the
muscular energy of the lungs are proportioned to each
other at the carth’s surface. But when a person is
forced to breathe an air highly rarefied, a feeling of
distress is experienced, consequent on the difficulty of
inhaling a sufficient quantity of air at each movement
of the lungs.

During the ascent of a lofty mountain, the sensations
here alluded to are generally experienced, because the
density of the air diminishes in a certain ratio as we
ascend from the earth’s surface. Accordingly, those
scientific travellers who have reached considerable ele-

* The use of the double negation was common among the
writers of this period,

[Fepruary §,

vations in the Alps and Andes have not failed to ex-
perience the*eflects of the rarefaction. The first Spa-
niards who attempted the ascent of the high mountains
of Aimerica were attacked by sickness and pains in the
stomach. The French traveller Bouguer had several
hemorrhages on the Cordilleras of Quito. Zumstcin
was attacked nearly in a similar manner while ascend-
ing Mount Rosa in Switzerland. Saussure was indis-
posed at the summit of Mont Blanc, and experienced
a distressing sensation of faintness: his guides, who
were all natives of the valley of Chamouni, were af-
fected in the same manner; and Saussure found that
the indisposition increased when he moved, or when,
while observing his instruments, he directed his atten.
tion to a particular object.

Dr. Holland, in his valuable ‘Medical Notes and
Reflections,’ expresses an opinion that the action of
different degrees of atmospheric pressure in disturbing
the bodily functions and general health is rather de.
rived from the frequency of fluctuation, than froin any
state long continued, either above or below the average
standard ; that, of the two conditions, suddenly incurred
in any extreme degree, the human frame is better ca-
pable of withstanding a rarefied than a condensed at-
mosphcre ; and that, in every case, the previous health
and proneness to disorder in particular organs are
greatly concerned in determining the results on the
body. He supports some of these views from the fact
that there are inhabited places in America, such as the
town of Potosi, at an elevation of more than thirteen
thousand feet, the inhabitants of which seem to have
tolerable health. Dr. Holland, after mentioning the
circumstance that Mr. Green has ascended with more
than four hundred persons in balloons at different
times, says, ‘ Mr. Green inturms me that he has found
none of these individuals sensibly affected, otherwise
than by the sudden change of temperature, and by a noise
in the ears, compared by some to very distant thun-
der; the latter sensation occurring only during rapid
ascent or descent of the balloon, and, when greatest in
degree, far less distressing than that produced by de-
scent in a diving-bell. He has never felt his own re-
spiration hurried or oppressed, except when exerting
himself in throwing out ballast, or other management
of the balloon, or when suddenly passing into a very
cold atmosphere. His pulse is occasionally quickened
ten or fifteen beats, and this oniy when some such ex-
ertion has been sustained. He mentions to me expressly,
that in no instance have his companions experienced
vertigo or sickness.”

It night seem, at first thought, that the opinions
above expressed are inconsistent with the recorded
experience of the travellers who have ascended high
mountains. But there is a circumstance which has
great influence on these sensations, and ought by no
means to be overlooked. The aeronaut who ascends
in a balloon has very little muscular exertion durin
the time that he is in his aerial ship; whereas suc
men as Saussure, Ifumboldt, and Boussingault are
exposed to the severe fatigue of walking and climbing
up hill while exposed to a rarefied atmosphere. We
shall presently speak of a particular mode of explana-
tion which has been recently given in relation to the
exhaustion and fatigue experienced in these land as-
cents. But we shall first give Boussingault’s descrip-
tion of the sensations which he experienced on such an
occasion.

In the year 1831 M. Boussingault succecded in
reaching the summit of Chimborazo, a feat which had
been unsuccessfully attempted by many persons, and
to which he was excited by the energy and perseve-
rance of Humboldt thirty years before. When the tra-
veller, accompanied by Colonel] Hall and an Indian
guide, had reached to a considerable height up the

~~ mm

aman’
-

1842.]

mountain, cqual imdecd to the height of Mont Blanc,
the mules began to pause for breath at almost every
step; they breathed quickly, and were evidently dis-
tressed. They continued to ascend slowly, and found
the difficulty of breathing to be sensibly increased ; the
travellers stopped every eight or ten paces, by which
they seemed to gain relief; and Boussingault remarked
that the difficulty of breathing seemed to be greater
when they were passing over a snowy surface, than
when on the dry earth or rock of the mountain. Being
unable to proceed higher that day, they descended,
and slept for the night at the farm of Chimborazo.
On the following day (Dec. 16) they set off again, and
when they reached the limits of the snow, they dis-
mounted from their mules, and made the rest of the
journey on foot. The mules seemed quite incapable
of procecding farther ; their ears, which are generally
erect, were turned downwards; and, during the nume-
rous pauses the animals made for the purpose of
breathing, they did not cease louking on the plain be-
neath. The three travellers walked, or rather climbed,
one behind another ; and Boussingault says, “‘ We pre-
served perfect silence during our march, for experience
had taught me that at such a height nothing is more
hurtful than a continued conversation; and when we
exchanged a few words during a halt, it was in a low
tone of voice. It is chiefly to this foresight that I at-
tribute the good health which I have invariably en-
joyed during all my ascents to volcanoes. I impressed,
in a despotic manner, this salutary precaution on my
companions, An Indian who neglected this advice on
Antisana, by calling with all his force to Colonel Hall,
who had lost the proper path while passing through a
cloud, was in consequence attacked by giddiness and
hainorrhage.” When they had reached near the sum-
mit of the mountain, the rarefaction of the air affected
the travellers so strongly, that they were compelled to
stand still every two or three steps, and often to sit down
for some seconds ; but the pain and inconvenience only
lasted while they were in motion.

Now it has been generally the custom to attribute
these unpleasant sensations to the insufficiency of the
air, on account of its rarefaction, for the purposes of
respiration. Part of the effect is undoubtedly due to
this source, but it has lately been shown that a mecha-
nical cause of a very curious kind produces a portion
of the result. Humboldt, at a meeting of the Associa-
tion of Naturalists at Jena, about three or four years
azo, while describing the ascent of himself and Bous-
singault to the summit of Chimborazo, alluded par-
ticularly to the remarkable feeling of fatigue expe-
rienced while walking in very lofty regions; and re-
inarked that this curious phenomenon may probably
be explained by means of the equilibration of the
bones produced by the pressure of the atmosphere.
Professor Weber, of Gottingen, having previously
directed his attention to this subject, Humboldt re-
quested him to make an experiment with the air-pump,
With a view to ascertain the action of atmospheric

ressure on the joints of the thigh. In a work pub-
fished by Wet:er, on the ‘ Mechanics of the Organs of
the Human Body,’ it is shown that the thigh-bone does
not hang solely by the muscles and ligaments, nor even
rests on the edge of the socket above, but is sup-
ported by the pressure of the air, which squeezes the
two surfaces of the joint together. ‘‘ By means of this
equilibration of its weight,” he remarks, “ the bone ac-
quires as perfect a power of turning in its socket as is
necessary for the performance of such active move-
ments as walking andrunning. If then the pressure
of the air becomes diminished, a point must be reached
when that pressure can no longer preserve the equili-
brium of the weight of the bone. Another power, such
for example as that of the muscles, must now take its

THE PENNY MAGAZINE. BL

place and support the bone ; as otherwise the two sur-
faces of the bone would recede from each other. It is
then natural to expect that when the bone is supported
in this less advantageous manner, which not only
causes an expenditure of strength, but also obstructs
the movements of the bone owing to the stiffiiess that
is induced in the muscles called into action, derange-
ments and inconveniences should take place in walk-
ing, which would not occur if the bone were kept in
equilibrium by the pressure of the air.”

In conformity with the wishes of Humboldt, Weber
procured a human thigh-bone connected with the bone
of the pelvis, cut away such parts of the bones as were
not necessary to the experiment, and cut through the -
membrane which enveloped the jointed parts. The
bones were then hung up within the receiver of an air-
pump, and the air gradually exhausted. Although the
membrane which connected the two parts together was
severed, yet the two bones remained as closely in con-
tact as before ; until the air had been exhausted to three
inches of barometrical pressure, when the head of the
thighbone sank. It became evident that the external
pressure of the air kept the head of the bone closely in
its socket so long as the pressure was anything con-
siderable; but when the exhaustion was proceeding
towards a vacuum, the pressure became inadequate to
the support of the bone. Weights were attached to
the lower bone, to make it approach more nearly to the
real weight of the leg; and upon allowing the air to
re-enter, the head of the bone was forced up into its
former position in the socket.

The minutia of the experiment cannot be detailed
here, but Weber’s conclusion was as follows :—In the
act of walking, while one leg rests on the ground, the
other is lifted and carricd forward a certain space by
the action of the muscles. He thinks that the wetght
of the leg is not borne or felt to any great extent by
the muscles. the muscular force being directed to the
forward motion of the leg, while the leg itself is mainly
supported by atmospheric pressure. When, however,
the barometer sinks below twenty-four inches on high
mountains, the muscles have not only to move the
raised leg, but also to support a part of its weight, and
this part increases five-sixths of a pound tor every ad-
ditional inch which the mercury sinks. In conse-
quence of this unusual straining, the muscles will not
only become fatigued, but as this straining is opposed
to the swingiag which has to be performed by the bone,
a feeling of uneasiness and inconvenience occurs in
walking, which, in Weber’s opinion, explains the de-
scribed sensation of fatigue, and also cxplains why
aeronauts, whose legs are not exposed to the same ex-
ercise, do not experience this kind of fatigue. The
fatigue experienced by persons who are lame from
some defect in the thigh-joint is supposed to be often
partly owing to a diminution, or rather disarrange-
ment of the atmospheric support to the thigh-bone.

Culinary Delicacies of the Thirteenth Century.—A book just
printed by the Roxburgh Club, from the original records of
several ancient families, contains some very curious details of
the style of living of the highest classes in England in the thir-
teenth and fourteenth centuries:—* The distinguished pecu-
liarity, not only of England but of European taste in food, during
the middle ages, was a predilection for the strong, and, in some
cases, for the coarse flavours. To what other cause can we
ascribe the appearance of the flesh of the whale, grampug, por-
poise, sea-calf, sea-wolf, and other such fish, at the tables of
sovereigns and people of rank, by whom they were considered
delicacies? Some notion may be formed of the quantity of
whale, &c. which was eaten in Europe during the thirteenth cen-
tury, when we find Henry the Third, in Lent, 1246, ordering
the sheriffs of London to purchase for him, in the city, a hundred
pieces of the best whale and two Lal uaa beta and
Household Expenses in the Thirteenth and ouricenth Centuries,

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[Exhibition of Prize Cattle at the Horse Bazaar, Portman-square.)

CATTLE-SHOWS.

Ir we were to ask why Christmas is so proverbial for
its hospitalities, would it seem to be very far from the
truth if we were told to look for the cause in the abun-
dant stores of good things which abound at that parti-
cular season? Look at the butchers’ shops, at the
goodly array which they present of sirloins, and legs
and ‘saddles’ of mutton, all of the primest quality.
The butcher himself, in dispensing these good things,
exercises his calling with an air of increased import-
ance. Those to whom a joint of meat is a rarity sit
down to one for their Christmas dinner. The butcher
knows that every customer whom he serves, and par-
ticularly those of the poorest class, will for one day at
least be surrounded by plenty.

The abundant display of meat of more than ordinary
excellence in the butchers’ shops at Christmas is of
course to be attributed to the desire of supplying a
commercial demand; and which, in the first instance,
acts upon the butcher, and through him reaches the
grazier, and lastly the cattle-breeder. This object is
effectually promoted by the spirit of competition. The
cattle-breeder conducts his siprevenients with a view
to advance his interests with the graziers; the grazier
looks no farther for encouragement than to the
butcher; and the butcher calculates upon being sup-
ported by the general mass of consumers, who must
either communicate the stimulus or sustain it when
once im activity,

The Smithfield Cattle Club was established about
the close of the last century. Prizes were offered for
the finest cattle and sheep, which were publicly exhi-
bited in the metropolis; and the butchers purchased
the stock as a means of enhancing the reputation of
their shops. For the last two or three years, the show
has been held at the Horse Bazaar, King-street, Port-
man-square, which, though not quite so convenient as
could be wished, is preferable to the former exhibition-
yard in Aldersgate-strect. After the prizes have been

adjudged, the public are admitted on payment of one
shilling during the remainder of the week. At the
show in December, 1841, there were exhibited fifty-
seven oxen, nineteen cows, fifty-four sheep, and nine

igs, the animals of each species being the most per-
ect examples of the excellence to which they have
been brought by the judgment and experience of
breeders, graziers, and feeders. The Scotch oxen had
in some cases been brought by steam-boats a distance
exceeding five hundred miles; and in nearly every
case the railways were made use of for the conveyance
of both cattle and sheep from all parts of England.
Formerly the animals were brought in vans to London,
at a great expense, and the rate of travelling was ne-
cessarily slow. The interest of the show is, as may be
expected, chiefly confined to certain classes. On en-
tering the place of exhibition, the visitor at once per-
ceives that the company consists chiefly of country
gentlemen, cattle-breeders, graziers, cattle-salesmen,
and butchers, with a sprinkling of townsmen, who still
retain the relish for anything connected with country
occupations which they had imbibed in early life. But
the sight is one of rational interest to any man. Here
he sees the results of exertions principally carried on
during the last eighty years to unite and bring to per-
fection the most desirable points in the various breeds
of domestic animals which were once peculiar to dif-
ferent parts of Great Britain, but are now spread in
their improved form over every part of the country.
In the gallery, a portion of which overlooks the show-
yard, are to be seen agricultural implements and ma-
chinery of the latest and most improved construction ;
roots and plants adapted to our climate, but which are
as yet comparatively unknown ; specimens of artificial
manures, and of the soils of districts differing from
each other in their geological formation. In spite of
all the advances which agriculture has made during
the present century, how slowly do improvements ex-
tend beyond the intelligent circle in which they are
first adopted ; and it is one of the great advantages of

1812.]

institutions such as the Smithfield Club to spread them
more rapidly and widely by drawing the agriculturist
from the secluded scenes in which he carries on his
occupations, and bringing them before him in the
manner best calculated to demonstrate their utility.

A prize ox or sheep is fatter than the ordinary
market requires, and hence it is often supposed that
the stimulus of prizes for bringing an animal into a
state of unnecessary fatness is altogether a work of
supererogation. But the power of reaching an exces-
sive size is simply a test. A piece of artillery is tied
by a charge greater than is ever required in ordinary
practice ; and an ox is fattened for exhibition beyond a
useful marketable condition simply to show the capa-
city of the breed for acquiring, at the least expense of
food, and at the earliest age, such a condition as the

ublic demand really renders necessary. This course

as been altogether successful; and to show that it has
been so, we must advert to the period when improved
breeds of cattle were less common than they are now.
Culley, who was himself a great Improver of cattle, and
wrote a work on the subject at the commencement of
the century, shows the manner in which the public
have profited by the services of such men as himself.
He speaks of a kind of oxen which had not then be-
come extinct, that were “ more like an ill-made black
horse than an ox or a cow;” and the flesh, for he says
it did not deserve to be called beef, was “ as black and
coarse-grained as horseficsh ;” and yet such an animal
was less profitable than an ox of the present improved
breeds. After feeding on the best pasture for a whole
summer, it was scarcely fatter or in better condition
than at the commencement, as the food which it con-
sumed went to the support of ‘offal.’ There were
brecds of sheep which stood nearly in as great need of
improvement. But what is the case now? A shee
can be reared fit for the market in two years, whic
formerly required three years, or even a longer period,
and here is a saving to the consumer of above thirty
per cent. ; and in cattle, the small-boncd, true propor-
tioned animal of the improved brecds has in the same
way been rendered above twenty-five per cent. more
profitable. The ineat thus obtained at a less expense
of food and in a shorter space of time, is far superior in
quantity and quality to the carcass of the old breeds.

"ithin a century the average weight of cattle sold in
Smithfield market has increased from 370 lbs. to 640
lbs.; and sheep and lambs, averaged together, from
28 ibs. to 80 or 90 lbs. Culley states (and improvements
have been very widely diffused, as well as carried to a
higher pitch since his time) that the difference between
the coarse and fine, or between the best and worst parts
of beef when cut up, was formerly not less than one
hundred per cent.; but in the improved brecds the
quality of the coarse parts is very much better, and
the quantity of bone is also diminished. To the poorer
class of consumers these advantages are of no trifling
importance. In mutton, the difference between one
pa and another has also gradually become less and

ess. Sir Woodbine Parish, in his valuable account of
the ‘ Provinces of La Plata,’ relates a fact from which
we may infer the national importance of possessing a
superior breed of animals for food. A few years ago,
he states, the breed of native sheep was so inferior, that
it is doubtful whether the wild dogs would have
touched the carcass; and they were commonly dried in
the sun and uscd as fuel in the brick-kilus. This breed
has recently been improved; and so much available
food is added to the resources of the country.

The agriculture of a country which is too poor to
enable the population to consume much animal food
is necessarily in a very backward state. The manure
which is produced in stall-feeding forms a very con-
siderable part of the profit af fattening cattle; and

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

enables the farmer to increase the produce of his
arable land. Hence the best stimulus of agriculture
is the prosperity and well-being of the great mass of
the population; and no impulse which could be given
to British agriculture would be equal in its productive
results to the conversion of potato-feeders and bread-
caters into consumers of animal food.* The profit of
turnip and other green crops would then be greatly in-
creased; and the whole of the modern improvements
in agriculture depend upon these rotations. It is a
maxim of the farmer, that if no turnips, then no fat
cattle or fat sheep, no manure, no barley, no clover,
and no wheat. With turnips and similar crops we
have fat cattle and fresh meat at Christmas, while our
ancestors were compelled to kill off their cattle when
the pastures began to fail in autumn, and they lived
upon salt meat tor the ensuing six months. Few live-
stock could then be kept upon a farm, and the powers
of the soil were reduced to the lowest point of fertilit
from the want of manure. All this 1s now changed,
ih the alteration has been a most bencficial one to all
classes.

TRIAL BY ORDEAL.
(Concluded from page 40.)

THERE were yet many who failed at these trials, and
these persons were often pursued with relentless
severity: indeed, it is obvious that the same processes
which by collusion might be made to throw a shield
over the guilt of the powerful and influential, might
also be converted into a means for the cruel persecu-
tion of the unprotected. M. Dinaux translates from
an old chronicle the account of a young woman driven
to the proof of ordeal under the all-comprehensive
accusation of sorcery, in consequence of her having
excited the indignation of the mayor of the palace by
attempting to arouse one of the imbecile early kings of
France to an appreciation of the dutics and dignities
of his station. Her arm was cruelly burned by the
hot water, and she only escaped death itself by flying
to the sanctuary of a monastery. A citizen of London,
suspected of murder, says Hallam, having failed in the
ordeal of cold water, was hanged by order of Henry II.,
although he offered five hundred marks for his life. It
scemed, he adds, as if the ordeal was sometimes per-
mitted to persons already convicted of a jury.

Ordeal of the Duel, or Wager of the Battel.—The
duel was originally another form of trial, in which Pro-
vidence was supposed to interfere for the protection of
the innocent and the discomfiture of the guilty. Gib-
bon says respecting it, ‘‘ But the trials by single com-
bat gradually obtained superior credit and authority
among a warlike people who could not believe that a
brave man deserved to suffer or that a coward deserved
to live. Both in criminal and civil procecdings the
plaintiff or accuser, the defendant or even the witness,
was exposed to mortal challenge from the antagonist
who was destitute of legal proofs; and it was incum-
bent upon them either to desert their cause, or a eed
to maintain their honour in the lists of battle. This law
was introduced into Gaul by the Burgundi, and that
which had been peculiar to some tribes of Germany
was propagated and established in all the monarchies
of Europe, from Sicily to the Baltic, and effectually
resisted all the censure of popes and synods.” Al-
though the first written laws respecting the trial by

* Some recent statistical inquiries in the manufacturing d's.
tricts show the great falling off which takes place in the con-
sumption of meat during a period of stagnation in trade. The
oxen, sheep, calves, lambs, and pigs slaughiered in the borough
of Leeds declined from 2450 in 1835-6 to 1800 in 1841. In
Rochdale in 1836 the number of oxen killed weckly was 180;

in 1841 only 65 or 70,

battle arc, Blackstone observes, those of Gundebald
(501), preserved in the Burgundian code, yet the cus-
tom probably prevailed among various other of the
northern clans or tribes, and judicial combats cxisted
among the ancient Goths in Sweden.

We have no record of the custom prevailing in this
country prior to the Conquest, but, from the tenor of
some of the laws upon the subject, made by William I.,
Sir Francis Palgrave considers it probable that the
ordeal of the ducl existed in England prior to the
Norman invasion, but became modified in its details
after that event. Kestricted in its early use to certain
criniinal cases, this mode of trial became afterwards
almost indiscriminately extended as the means of deci-
sion of almost every description of crime and dispute.
In the reign of Henry II. many cases were removed
from its operation, by presenting to the accused the
alternative of the jury, a change truly characterized by
Glanvill as a noble improvement. Louis the Pious
followed Henry’s ceainple in 1260, and the practice of
tho duel soon after became much restricted in most
kingdoms of Europe. The last occasion of a trial by
battle actually taking place in this country occurred in
the thirteenth year of Gucen Elizabeth, and was held
in Tothill-fields. After lying dormant for more than
two centuries, the very existence of the absurd statutes
allowing these proceedings was nearly forgotten, when,
in 1817, the public were astounded by the wager of
battle being demanded and allowed by the King’s
Bench. Theaccuser wisely forbore proceeding, and in
the subsequent year the statute was repealed.

Religious ceremonies also accompanied this form of
trial, the two combatants making most solemn attesta-
tions and recriminations. The champions armed with
batons (and in some cases with sword and lance) ap-

cared in the lists at sunrise, and, after the various
ormalities, continued their contest until one, of the
two was killed (which rarely happened), or declared
himself vanquished by pronouncing the odious word
craven. It, however, the battle continued until the
Stars appeared, it was considered as drawn, and ter-
minating in favour of the defendant. In civil causes
the parties contended by means of deputies or cham-
pions, and the challenge delivered by the champion at
our coronations has its origin in this custom; but in
cases of felony the party must appear in his proper
person, only in this case, if the appellant be a woman,
an infant, one aged sixty, or lame, or blind, he or she
might refuse the wager of battle, and resort to a jury :
a peer, by reason ot his dignity, and a citizen of Lon-
don, by special charter, were also exempted: a thief or
inurderer, taken in the very act of committing his
crime, was not permitted the wager of battle. When
vanquished, even the hired champion in a civil cause
became disgraced and infamous, and ever after inca-
yable of serving on a jury or appearing as a witness.
n cases of felony, if the accused was vanquished, he
was either hanged or mutilated. In the reign of Wil-
liam Rufus, Geoffrey Bainard appealed William de
Ku, charging him with treason: the defendant was
vanquished, and afterwards mutilated by order of the
king. If the accuser turns recreant, and cries ‘ craven,’
he was ever afterwards infamous, losing any privilege
he might have possessed. Although many members
of the church vigordusly opposcd these barbarian
ractices, others encouraged and participated in them.
ulaure, in his ‘History of Paris,’ cites numerous
instances of religious communitics applying for and
obtaining of various monarchs the privilege of holding
lists, and indeed priests themselves sumetimes entered
the arena. Geoffrey of Vendéme tells us of a ducl
between a monk and acanon. Considerable emolu-
ments resulted from the fees paid for administering the
oaths, the masses for those who fell, &c,

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

([Fresruary 5,

As before observed, ordeals of various kinds have
prevailed in different parts of the world. Some African
tribes apply a red-hot iron to the tongue: the negroes
on the Guinea coast place certain herbs in the hands
of the accused, believing that if guilty he will be burned
by them. The natives of Pegu and Siam have ordeals.
of cold water, and the Chinese of both fire and water.
At Malabar the person suspected is said to be obliged
to swim a stream abounding in crocodiles, and at Siam
both parties are exposed to a tiger, and he whom the
wild beast attacks is supposed to be in the wrong.
But of all people, the Hindvos present the most elabo-
rate system of ordeal, whether we consider the varieties
of the procedure or the nuinber of the laws regulating
their sap a hipaa An interesting account of these may
be seen in the first volume of the ‘ Asiatic Researches.’
In the sixteenth volume of the same work there is
also a short account, by Mr Traill, of the ordeal as ob-
served in Kainaon. tn both these papers it will be
found that some forms of ordeal, such as hot iron and
hot oil (instead of water), resemble those formerly em-
proyed in Europe; while other forms, such as swal-
owing poison, exposing the hand toa hooded snake,
drinking water in which idols have been washed,
comparing the weight of the accused at different
periods, &c., are peculiar to the East.

In closing this melancholy chapter of human folly
and presumption, we must not, however, pass too hasty
a judgment upon the ages in which these practices
fluurished ; nur must we flatter ourselves that our own
age is entircly free trom similar absurdities, rendered
even still more striking by the contrast they present to
the habits and observances which should result trom
that advanced stage of civilization to which we have
attained. On the one hand, we must remember that
in the dark ages the law of brute force prevailed, and
any institution which tended to the establishment of
even an imperfect principle of justice and equality in
its stead must be hailed as at least one step tuwards a
better state of things; while the solemn prayers and
imposing ceremonies, which took place prior to the
trial, would frequently render its pertorinance unne-
cessary, Wy reason of the confession of the accused
when really guilty. “ Perhaps,” says Sir F. Palgrave,
“there is no nation where the ordeal cannot be traced.
It iscommon to the Old World and the New, to the
Negro and the Esquimaux. A custom so universal,
and at the same time so repugnant to our usual tcel-
ings, must have had some reason which extenuated its
rashness; and in every case it appears to have been
employed under the same circumstances. Suspiciuns
of guilt are entertained, forcible and strong as not to
be easily resisted by the understanding; and yet want-
ing in that degree of certainty which puts the judge at
ease when he proceeds to the condemnation of the
offender.” The same author suggests that even the
judicial combat might sometimes have had its advan-
tages, as deciding by one trial of strength a right,
which, left to the discretion of the competitors, might
otherwise have censumed many lives in its determi-
nation. Finally, we must remember, in attempting a
comparative estimate of these ages, that those which
succecded thein (and indeed until comparatively recent
times) substituted for the trial by ordeal the torture of
the rack; a means of arriving at the truth no less
preposterous, and even more cruel, whether we con-
sider the sufferings of the wretched victim himself
or the implication of innocent persons these forced
him to becume the unwilling instrument of pro-
ducing.

On the other hand, is not the duel still in active
operation among ourselves, and that even without the
excuse which attended it in by-gone times? fur who
now believes it to be a“ judgment of Ged?” Itisa

1842.]

mournful proof that the advancement of national
morals is not always coincident with great intellectual
progress and vast physical improvements. Were this
the case, humanity could never be shocked, or common
sense insulted, by the spectacle of a man cruelly ag-
wade one compelled to offer his breast to the

eadly aim of the individual who has wronged him,
and he himself obliged to risk the imbruing his hands
in the blood of his fellow-creature. Such proceedings
are worthy only of that rude state of society wherein
private vengeance is permitted to usurp the place of
public justice, and in which the possession of personal
address and brute courage are considered the objects
of the highest ambition. Of late years men have
opened their eyes in some measure to the folly and
wickedness of this practice. May they doso more and
more, for much remains to be done. It is from an en-
lightened public opinion that we are alone to look for
its abolition. Severe penal laws, contrary as they are
to the spirit of the age, will either be evaded or re-
mitted. An improved and extended moral and reli-
gious instruction can alone teach mankind to wither
that with their il ean which now only flourishes
in consequence of the encouragement they have in
their ignorance bestowed upon it.

PECULIARITIES RESPECTING THE
GROWTH OF FISHES.
(From a Corre: pondent.]

Amon the three great families of birds, beasts, and
fishes, by far the greatest dissimilarity observable in the
various orders and classes into which they are divided is
known to obtain among several species of fishes. That
birds, or animals, or even fish, in a state of domestication,
should somewhat depart from their natural shape, size,
or quality, would be nothing remarkable; but when
we find any considerable departure, whether in size or
_any other positive characteristic, from the class or order
to which they belong while in an unconfined state of
nature, it becomes an object calculated to arrest the
attention of nature’s observers. and one well deserv-
ing the observation of the physiologist.

Without attempting more than a superficial view of
the subject, in order to establish the position here ad-
vanced, the common trout may be taken as an example
of what is above referred to; and, probably, there is
scarcely another well known fish that would answer so
well to illustrate the disparity which sometimes takes

lace.
i In glancing at the several families of wild animals
of this country, from the smallest of the mouse tribe
upwards to the stag or wild deer, we may mcct with
slight differences in size, colour, 8&c. ; but unless there
is some natural imperfection, take five, or fifty, or five
hundred, promiscuously from any one family, and
among those that have attained their full growth the
difference in point of size will be hardly observable,
or at least by no means striking. Indeed wild cattle
might be instanced, a few specimens of which arc still

reserved in this country, and we find them ‘ as much

ike each other,’ to make use of a homcly expression,
‘as peas.’ Males and females frequently differ in size,
in shape, and sometimes in colour; but such variations
are the results of a general law, and do not affect the
results we have stated. In birds there is as little, or
even less, disparity in point of size. Observe, for
instance, a flock of crows, of wild pigeons, of field-
fares, or of wild geese, and in the closest approach
we can make to them, among five hundred the
eye would hardly be able to detect any actual dif
ference.

With regard then to the trout so common to our
streams and rivers, among those that may be considered

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

full grown, the difference, particularly in point of size,
18 often al remarkable: the smaller the stream, the
smaller will be the trout found therein, may be taken
asa general rule. But this rule does not apply to any
but small streams; for a brook of considerable size, or
ey moderate sized rivers, will often yield trout equal
both in size and quality to those found in our largest
rivers. Something depends upon the supply of food;
but it is well known that trout kept in smadl ponds or
streams, where they have received a regular daily sup-
ply of food besides what the water afforded them, have
never attained a large size, a size even approaching
those that were permitted to occupy /arge ponds or
lakes in the same neighbourhood, where both the
water and the food were precisely of the same quality
and character. With regard to small streams where
the fish are not nratected: it might be asserted with
some show of reason that but few trout in such situa-
tions escape the angler or the net-fisher for any con-
siderable number o reat. This may be true as regards
the generality of such streams, but in certain situations
even small brooks possess their deep pools and secure
holds, under banks or rocks, where none save the
angler can possibly take them. Now even in situations
like these, although fish of moderate size, and which
have been known to occupy their haunts for several
years, are sometimes met with, the largest of them
would be considered of very inferior size if caught
in larger streams or rivers. Moreover, when the
small brook-trout breed, their progeny—at one, two,
and three years old—are all diminutive, and, in point
of size, in precise keeping with the parent fish. No-
thing can demonstrate this more clearly than what is
observable in the wilds of an uninhabited country.
Take the forests of America for example, and there we
find, where the trout that inhabit the streams which
have never been disturbed by the presence of man, and
may be said to be in a state of nature, that they are
small in the small streams; while in the large streams
and rivers they attain a size three or fourfold the mag-
nitude. Among the Brey or lake trout, found also in
America, the largest lakes furnish specimens of the
largest size. Thus in those inland seas connected
with the western parts of Canada and the United States,
a species of trout, known there as the salmon-trout,
often grows toa weight of forty pounds or more ; while
in the second and third-rate lakes the same sort of fish
very rarely attains to the weight of ten pounds; and
in the very small lakes it is an extraordinary occur-
rence to meet with a salmon-trout weighing over four
pounds. This is a very singular fact, since in many of
the smaller lakes there is a depth of one or two hun-
dred feet of watcr, and a most abundant supply of
sundry sorts of small fish, as well as of other bait, on
which trout delight to feed.

But there are numerous instances on record that the
trout found in our own small mountain-streams may
be made to increase remarkably in size under a change
of circumstances, a single example of which may be
sufficient to explain the case in point. It is now more
than twenty years ago that the canal from Preston to
Lancaster, commonly called the Lancaster Canal, was
opened to Kendal in Westmoreland. An artificial
feeder was necessary in order to supply this portion of
the canal with water during dry seasons, In consequence
of which a reservoir, covering a space of sixty or seventy
acres, was formed in a portion of moorland about four
miles east of Kendal. This sheet of water was formed
without any excavating, simply by constructing a dam
of twenty feet in height across the narrow part of a
hollow between two ridges of hills which was watered
by asmallrunnel that had its source in the moors above.
Small, however, as this stream was, for it bubbled and
danced along ina channel which was scarcely more

than a gutter with grass-grown sides, one or two feet
over, it used to be pretty well supplied with small
trout, mostly too small to attract the notice of the shep-
herd’s boy, or any equally ambitious angler; nor
was there in the distance this brook ran a single hole
or secure place that by possibility afforded shelter and
safety to any fish of larger size. After the rains and
melting snows of two winters had filled this reservoir
to the necessary height, the water was then occasionally
drawn off for the supply of the canal through an iron
grating, so narrow between the bars as not to adinit the
outward passage of any fish that weighed more than
two ounces; and as it passed down a steep dcclivit
with great velocity, there was no probability of any fis
being able to ascend the current.

Some curiosity was felt in the neighbourhood, and
particularly amongst anglers, with regard to this reser-
voir becoming stocked with such trout as would yield
both amusement and profit. Two years had scarcely
elapsed, however, when it was satisfactorily ascertained
that there were many trout in the reservoir, and some
of them of a tolerable size ; and by the end of the fourth
season angling in the reservoir had become quite com-
mon, when trout were caught that weighed from one
to two pounds cach: inafter-years some of astill larger
size. Ina few years the “ reservoir trout” became in
such repute, and were so cagerly and perscveringly
angled for, that the gentleman claiming the manorial
rights erected a fishing-house which overlooked the
whole sheet of water, and appointed a person to reside
there and to keep off all intruders.

Sufficient has probably been said to prove that fishes,
under peculiar circumstances, vary in size a great
deal more than either birds or beasts. This has been
proved over and over again in preservesand fish-ponds :
He ieee of pheasants, partridges, and other sorts of the
feathered creation, when half-domesticated, and regu-
larly fed and attended to, differ in size and appearance
little or none from the same families abroad in the
woods and fields. Neither is there more than a pr
ceptible difference, in any respect, among the members
of a covey, or a dozen coveys, when attended to in this
way. But as regards most kinds of fish the case is
very different; for when a pond or other secure piece
of water is supplied with a stock of trout or pike from
some stream or river, though they should all be equal
in size at the time they were placed in their new quar-
ters, in the course of not more than two or three years
some among them will be found to have far outgrown
all the rest. And so it is even in rivers: among the
shoals that belong to particular pools or deep holes,
one or two will often be found more than double the
size of any of the rest, and yet evidently belonging to
the same family. and of the same age with several of
its companions.

Some writers have asserted, that among the nuime-
rous branches of the human family there exists a
greater disparity, in point of size, than among any
other order of created beings. This does not, however,
seem to be borne out by facts; for unless we were to
include Lilliputians and fabled giants, we should find
in many families of fishes a far greater difference as
regards size. Among salmon it has been ascertained
that many may be considered full-grown that do not
weigh over twelve or fourteen pounds; while one is
occasionally caught of the weight of fifty or sixty
pounce. In natural history it is custoinary to give the

eight, length, and bulk of most classes of animals;
and the weight, as well as the height and spread of
wing, of birds of every description; but as regards
many sorts of fishes, this is altogether impracticable ;
‘for in many small streams a trout weighing half a
pound would be accounted an extraordinary size, while

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

([Fepruary 5,

in some of our rivers we occasionally meet with one
of the weight of two or three pounds, and in others
some that reach even to ninc or ten.

Music of Nature in Norway.—Still as everything is to the eye,
sometimes for a hundred miles together along these deep sea-
valleys, there is rarely silence. The ear is kept awake by a
thousand voices. In the summer there are cataracts leaping from
ledge to ledge of the rocks, and there is the bleating of the kids
that browse there, and the flap of the great cagle’s wings as it dashes
abroad from its eyrie, and the cries of whole clouds of sea-birds
which inhabit the islets; and all these sounds are mingled and
multiplied by the strong echoes till they become a din as loud as
that of acity. Even at night, when the flocks are in the fold,
and the birds at roost, and the echoes themselves seem to be
asleep, there is occasionally a sweet music heard, tuo soft for even
the listening ear to catch by day. Every breath of suinmer wind
that steals through the pine forests wakes this music as it goes.
The stiff spiny leaves of the fir and pine vibrate with the brecze,
like the strings of a musical instrument, so that every breath of
the night wind in a Norwegian forest wakens a myriad of tiny
harps, and this gentle and mournful music may be heard in
gushes the whole night through. This music of course ceases
when each tree becomes laden with snow; but yet there is sound
in the midst of the longest winter night. There is the rumble of
some avalanche, as, alter a drifting storm, a mass of snow too
heavy to keep its place slides and tumbles from the mountai::
peak, There is also now and then a loud crack of the ice in the
vearest glacier; and, as many declare, there is a crackling to be
heard by those who listen when the northern lights are slooting
and blazing across the sky. Nor isthis all. Wherever there isa
nook between the rocks on the shore, where a man may build a
house and clear a field or two; wherever there is a platform be-
side the cataract, where the sawyer may plant his mill, and make
a path for it to join some road, there is a human habitation, and
the suunds that belong to it. Thence in winter niglits come
music and laugliter, and the tread of dancers, and the hum of
many voices, The Norwegians are a social and hospitable peo-
ple; and they hold their gay meetings in defiance of their arctic
climate, through every scason of the year.— Miss Marlineau's
Feats on the Fivrd.

Assam Tea.—The report of the Assam Tea Company for the
past year is published. It states that the order of government
for making over two-thirds of the experimental gardens and
meaus of manufacture at Jeypore and its ucizhbourhood, had
been carried into effect, but that the exertions of Mr. Bruce the
superintendent had been baffled by want of labourers, The
Chinese sent from Singapore, who were selected without discre-
tion, and were not under proper control, quarrelled with the
natives at Pubna, and became rivtous; part were sent to gaol, and
the rest refused to proceed to Assam. On arriving at Calcutta
they were guilty of outrages, and were sent to the Mauritius,
where the planters joyfully engaged them. The society then
engaged a body of Dhangar Coles; but the cholera broke out
amongst 650; many of whom died, and the remainder absconded.
Disease liad also thinned the other labourers, and destroyed or dis-
abled seven Europeans. The product of last year, owing to these
causes, was only 10,212Ibs., which had been shipped to Eng-
land. The total quantity of Jand fully and partially cleared
amounts to about 7000 acres. The quantity of native tea-
Jand cleared, cropped, and in actual production, amounts to
2638 acres, capable of producing, when the trees are ripe and in
full bearing, at a quarter of a pound of tea per tree, 312,000] bs.
The company have set up a saw-mill to assist in the manufacture
of chests aud other requisite articles, A little steamer, intended
to ply between Calcutta and Assam, had arrived in the country.
The expenditure, during the year, in England and India, was
Rs. 5,49,160, of which the value of stock, in steam-boat, saw-
mill, boats, and implements. is Rs. 1,51,941, and the labour lost
and unproductive amounts to Rs, 1,23,275. The estimate of the
prospective return of tea for the next five ycars, when it is sup-
posed that the tea-lands will be in full perfection, is as follows:
—IS841, 10,000] bs. ; 1812, S0,Q00]bs. ; 1843, 160,000Ibs; and so
on, increasing §0,000]bs, each year.—.fsiatie Journal,

1842.]

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THE PENNY MAGAZINE. ey

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And aun old kitchen that maintained half a dozen old cooks.
OLp anp Youne

HOSPITALITY AND CHARITY OF OLD
TIMES.

THE popular imagination is still vivid with pictures of
the hospitality and charity which once prevailed in
England. Amongst persons who have few opportuni-
ties of reading, or who cannot read at all, this is the
only feature of the past with which their minds are
strongly impressed. Of.the other parts, which are
necessary to be known before the past can be justly
appreciated, they do not possess even an outline.
Being ignorant of the economical circumstances which
were favourable to the old bountiful style of living in
former times, as well as of the causes which led to its
decay, it is impossible that they should not look on the
present as an age of harsh and unkindly contrasts. We
shall here give a few illustrations of the magnificent
i an which was characteristic of our ancestors
three or four centuries ago; and, at another time, no-
tice some of the causes which necessarily led to a dif-
serene distribution of the means by which it was sus-
ined.

It must be recollected that, at tne period to which
we allude, there were few populous cities and towns.
At the end of the fourteenth century, England scarcely
contained thirty towns with above two thousand in-
habitants, and of these, two only, besides London, con-
tained a population of ten thousand each. London

No. 050.

”
Casian BR.

itself, according to the capitation returns of 1377, did
not contain a very much larger population than the
town of Sydney in New South Wales, which was first
planted little more than half a century ago. The
population of the towns of the realm scarcely amounted
at this time to seven persons out of each hundred of
the total population, the remaining ninety-three dwell-
ing in hamlets and country places. These facts show
that the industry of the country was almost entirely
agricultural. The exports consisted of little else than
raw produce, principally wool, and foreign trade was
carried on chiefly by aliens. There was wealth, but it
was such as may be seen in a country ramble, and con-
sisted for the most part of flocks and herds, horses,
crops on the ground, and stores in the granary. Of
wealth directly convertible into a thousand different
objects, there was even amongst the richest a great
scarcity. ;

The great landowner of that day, so rich in the
means of abundant living, and, generally speaking, so
poor as far as money was concerned, lived at his.
manors in different parts of the country. His tenants
consisted of ‘villains regardant,’ holding by base and
uncertain services according to the custom of the
manor; and the ‘ villains in gross,’ or serfs, were his
carters, ploughmen, shepherds, cowherds, and swine-
herds—also his artisans and handicraftsmen. His
wools were the principal objects of commercial de-

Vou. XI.—I

mand which he was able to raise, as the greater part of
the produce of his manors was consumed on the spot.
The dues from tenants and others under him were only
valuable as articles of consumption at his own table ;
and the amount of rents paid in money was compara-
tively small. |
We now partly see why this was the age of hospitality,
why the great hall was open to all comers the year
round, and at Christmas and. other festivals was a
scene of joyous uproar and merriment amongst men
who had the happy carelessness and freedom from
anxiety which distinguishes a state of society akin to
slavery. In these scenes the lord exercised and strength-
ened his personal influence, and diffused around his
board the glow of pleasure and attachment. The
great baron had his master of the horse, his auditor,
steward of the household, and other officers performing
the same duties as in the court of the sovereign.
Political as well as economical causes tended to in-
crease the number of retainers. Thearistocracy bearded
the crown and forced concessions from it by an im-
posing array of armed followers, who generally accom-
vanied them wherever a parliament was assembled.
Varwick, the ‘ king-maker,’ maintained his great in-
fluence in state affairs by the hold which he had ona
numerous body of retainers. The old writers state
that thirty thousand men were daily maintained at his
ditferent castles and manors. Stow tells us that at a
arliament held at London in 1457, the Earl of Salis-
yury was attended by five hundred men on horseback ;
Richard, Duke of York, by four hundred horse; the
Earl of Northumberland and Lord Clifford with fif-
teen hundred; and Richard Neville, Earl of Warwick,
the ‘ king-maker,’ with six hundred horsemen, “ all in
red cloaks embroidered with ragged staffs before and
behind, and was lodged in Warwick Lane, in whose
house there was oftimes six oxen eaten at a breakfast,
and every tavern was full of his meat ; so that he that
had any acquaintance in that house might have there
as much of sodden and of roast meat as he might prick
and carry upon a dagger.” The practice of being at-
tended by a number of retainers survived turbulent
times, and remained as a matter of state and dignity.
The more than regal splendour of Wolscy’s retinue
is well known. Stow, who wrote at the close of the
sixteenth century, relates that the Lord-Chancellor
Audley was attended by his gentlemen before him with
chains of gold, and in coats garded (edged) with velvet,
his yeomen following in the same livery not garded.
Though the livery of the yeoman who followed Crom-
well, Earl of Essex, was less rich than that of the
gentlemen who preceded him, yet were the skirts of
their cloaks “ large enough for their friends to sit upon.”
The Earl of Oxtord, ‘* father to the earl that now is,”
was accustomed, says Stow, to ride into the city to his
house by London Stone, with eighty gentlemen in livery
and gold chains before him, and one hundred tall yeo-
men, but without chains, to follow, all with the crest
of the blue boar on the left shoulder. From another
source we learn that ambassadors were often aecom-
panied by a long train of attendants; the Earl of Not-
tingham, in his embassy to Spain, by a retinue of five
hundred persons; and the Earl of Hertford at Brus-
scls was attended by three hundred gentlemen. When
not employed in these stately progresses, or, in less
peaceful times, when not in the field, these ‘ blue coats,’
or grey, as the case might be, crowded the castles and
inansions of their lords, to the number of five hundred
orathcusand. In the declining days of feudalism they
were characterised by the opprobrious epithets of
‘trencher-slaves and ‘swash-bucklers.’? Mr. D’Israeli
remarks that besides the ‘ blue-coats’ there were nume-
rous ‘retainers,’ whom he describes “ as neither menial
nor of the household, yet yielded their services on

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

(Frsrvary Ly,

special occasions for the privilege of shielding their
own insolence under the ostentatious silver ‘ badge,’ or
the family arms, which none might strike with im

unity and escape from the hostility of the whole noble
amily.” Asa matter of course, ‘such troops of idling
oe were only reflecting among themselves the
euds and the pride of their noble masters." So long
as the annual revenues of the great landowners were
received in kind and in services, instead of money
fa these followers were maintained without diffi
culty.

Li us, however, visit the castle of a nobleman, and
observe the plenty and good-living which abounds
within. Jt is the year 1507, the 23 Henry VII., a
reign perilous to the independence and grandeur of
the nobles, and disastrous to their hangers-on. ‘The
turbulence which characterised the previous century,
and rendered a host of partisans necessary for protec
tion, has abated ; and consequently the spirit of | hospi
tality shines out under a more pleasing form. Our
authority is the ‘ Household Book of Edward Stafford,
Duke of Buckingham,’ the “ ges Edward Bohun,’
‘‘the mirror of all courtesy” of Shakspere. The ac
counts are exceedingly minute, and specify the persons
for whom each article was delivered, also the quantity,
the number and quality of persons at dinner and
supper, the names ot the principal guests, and the
number of their attendants. The orderly and pre-
cise manner in which the affairs of a great house-
hold were conducted, even at periods of the greatest
festivity, isa trait of the times which one might not
have expected; but the duke was brother-in-law to the

Earl of Northumberland, whose ‘ Household Book’ is
so well known. The duke kept the Christmas of
1507 at Thornbury, in Gloucestershire. The number

who dined on Christmas-day was two hundred and
ninety- four, consisting of ninety-five gentry, one hun-
dred and seven yeoman or valets (upper servants), and
ninety-seven garcons or grooms; and at ale there
were eighty-four gentry, one hundred and fourteen
valets, and ninety-two garcons. Among the persons
of inferior note are mentioned a hermit, a bondinan, a
joiner, a brickmaker, an embroiderer with two assist-
ants, the artificers being engaged in preparations for
the festivities of the season ; and there were the bailiffs
and tenants of some of the duke’s manors present, and
two of the latter were from Penshurst, Kent. On the
Feast of the Epiphany (Twelfth-day), the party as-
sembled was still larger, comprising at dinncr one
hundred and thirty-four gentry, one hundred and
eighty-eight valets, and one hundred and ninety-seven
garcons; in all, three hundred and nineteen persons ;
and there were two hundred and seventy-nine present
at supper. It is stated that forty-two of the guests
were from the town, and ninety from the country.
The extra services of two cooks from Bristol were
engaged; and there were present four players, two
minstrels, and six trumpeters, besides four ‘ waits’
from Bristol. The abbot of Kingswood and the dean
of the chapel performed the religious service of the
day, assisted by cighteen singing-men and nine boys
as choristers.

From the accounts it appears that loaves and man-
chets were delivered from the pantry ; wine from the
cellar, ale from the buttery; salt-meat, salt-fish, and
fresh provisions, are under the head of kitchen deli-
veries; Paris candles, &c. are from the chandlery ;
and there is a head for coal and charcoal supplicd to
the hall and parlour; and also one for the consumption
of the stables. On Twelfth-day there were thirty-six
rounds of beef at table, and a dish of lamb. But we
give an abstract from the accounts for one day
(Twelfth-day), which will afford the best idea of the
plentcous style of living :—Pantry—Spent six hundred

1842.)

and-seventy eight loaves, three quarters, two manchets,
price 18s 114d Cellar —Spent thirty-three pottles, one
pitcher, one quart of Gascony wine, price 66s. ; four
and ahalf pitchers ot Malvoisey, 4s 6d. , seven pitchers
of Rheuish,4s. 8d.; one pitcher of Ossey, 12d. But-
tery—Spent two hundred and fifty-nine flagons, one

uart of ale, 2ls 7d, whereot in breakfast, twenty

agons. C. Spent of Paris candles forty-six
pounds, price 3s. 10d. and other chandlery, the price
of which is set downat4s 6d Hall and C
Spent ten loads of fuel, 1Us. ; twelve quarters of char
coal, 4s. Stable—Spent hay and litter for forty mne
horses of the lord. at 4d each horse, 2s. 04d

-» and in
horsemeat tor the same, nine being half-price, 2s 3d. ;
also for sixty-two horses of the lord’s attendants wait-
ing within the hostelry,6s 53d. We now come to the
Kitchen, and the following are a few of the deliveries
for the day :—Spent, of the lord's store, thirty-six
rounds of beef, 2ls.; twelve carcases of mutton, 14s. ;
two calves, 5s.; four pigs, 8s., three swans, 10s. 6d. ;
six geese, 2s. 6d.; six sucking-pigs, 3¢8., besides
poultry, small and targe birds, fish and wild fowl, but
neither partridges nor pheasants.

Two centuries earlier, namely, in 1313, the house-
hold expenses of the Earl of Leicester for one year
amounted to 7954l., which, according to Mr. Jacob
(Consumption of Precious Metals), is equivalent in ex-
shavieable value to about 100,000/. of our present
money. The expenses of the pantry, buttery, and
kitchen were 3405/., or, estimated as above, about
42,000/.a year. There is perhaps some exaggeration
in the statements respecting the great feast given at
the installation of George Neville, brother of the ‘ king-
maker,’ to the archbishopric of York. It consisted of
a hundred and four oxen and six wild bulls, a thousand
sheep, three hundred and four calves, two thousand
pigs, five hundred stags, bucks and roes, and two hun-

red and four kids. Of fowls of all kinds there were
twenty-two thousand. Three hundred quarters of
wheat were made into bread ; and the liquids consisted
of three hundred tuns of ale and a hundred tuns of wine.

The kitchens of the old baronial mansions were of
large size, often without ceiling and extending to the
roof, and perhaps with a wicket from which the lady
might observe the servants. That at Heddon Hall, in
Derbyshire, contains two vast fire-places, with irons
for a very large number of spits; stoves, great double
ranges of dressers, large chopping-blocks, and a massy
wooden table hollowed out into kneading-troughs for
pastry. Turning to an earlier period, when the mili-
tary style of architecture was predominant, we find
the kitchen difficult of access; and that-at Eynsford
Castle, Kent, appears to have been entered from above.
In the royal castle of Clarendon, Wilts, there were two
kitchens, one for the king and the other for the house-
hold* ; and in the universities of the present day, some
of the colleges have also two kitchens, one for the
master or president, and the other for the fellows and
other members. We have not obtained a description
of the kitchen at Thornbury; but there is one at Eton
College which will afford a good idea of this important
part of an old mansion or castle.

We will not now advert to the severe enactments
against vagrancy and mendicancy which accompanied
the charity of old times, nor to the manner in which
our ancestors were accustomed to palliate old sins by
charitable deeds ; our object at present being to show
the manner in which the spirit of charity operated.
Pauperism was an evil comparatively unknown in
the thirteenth century, because it was accompanied by
the greater evil of personal slavery, the lord being
bound to provide for his serf in the same way as for
his working cattle. But with the abolition of personal

* Survey of the Manor in 1272. ‘ Archezol.’

THE PENNY MAGAZINE

slavery, in itself a great good, came the difficulty
which has never yet been dissociated froin a state of
freedom. At first the evils of pauperism were met by
alms-giving on the most extensive scale. The almoner
was al) Officer not only jn the court of the sovereign,
but in the baron’s castle and in the monastery; and it
was his business to distribute alms to the poor. Stow
mixes up his account of the bountiful housekeeping
with deeds of alms-giving. He mentions the follow-
ing among others who observed that “ancient and
charitable custom of liberal relief of the poor at their
gates.” The late earl of Derby, he says, had two hun-
dred and twenty men in check roll, that is, in his
household ; yet he fed above sixty aged persons twice
a day, and all comers thrice a week; and evcry
Good-Friday he gave meat, drink, and money to two
thousand seven hundred persons. At the gate of
Thomas Lord Cromwell, earl of Essex, to whom
allusion has already been made, Stow says he had often
seen two hundred persons fed twice a day “ with
bread, meat, and drink sufficient.” The marquis of
Winchester gave “great relief at his gate.” In 1532,
the bishop of Ely kept two hundred servants in his
house continually, and “daily gave at his gates, be-
sides bread and drink, warm meat to two hundred
poor people.” A predecessor of the bishop, about
1500, when he came to a town in travelling, the
bells being rung, all the poor would come together,
to whom he would give sixpence each. Another
ancient practice was to have an alms-dish on the table,
in which a portion of each joint was thrown, which,
with the fragments of the meal, was given to the poor.
The custom is mentioned by Bede. These instances
are sufficient to mark the practice of ancient tines.

It has been often remarked that when a stranger enters St.
Peter's for the first time, the immediate impression is one of
disappointment; the building looks smaller than he expected to
find it. So it is with the first sight of mountains: their summits
never seem so near the clouds as we had hoped to see them. But
a closer acquaintance with these, and with other grand or beauti-
ful objects, convinces us that our first impression arose not from
the want of greatness in what we saw, but from a want of com-
prehensiveness in ourselves to grasp it. What we saw was not
all that existed, but all that our untaught science could master.
As we know it better, it remains the same, but we rise more
nearly to its level : our greater admiration is but the proof that ~
we are become able to appreciate it more truly.—Dr. Arnokl's
Inaugural Lecture on the Study of Modern History.

The Dandelion.—Every child knows it, and the little village
groups which pcrambulate the edges for the first offspring of the
year, amuse themselves by hanging circlets of its stalks linked
like a chain round their necks: yet if we examine this in all the
stages of its growth, we shall pronounce it a beautiful produc-
tion; and its blossom, though often a solitary one, is perhaps the
very first that enlivens the sunny bank of the hedge in the open-
ing year, peeping out from withered leaves, dry stalks, and deso-
lation, as a herald, telling us that nature is not dead, but repos-
ing, and will awaken to life again. And some of us, perhaps,
can remember the pleasure it afforded us in early days, when
we first noticed its golden blossoms under the southern shelter of
the cottage hedge, thinking that the “ winter was past,” and that
“‘ the time of the singing of birds was come;” and yet, possibly,
when seen, it may renew some of that childish delight, though
the fervour of expectation is cooled by experience and time.
The form of this flower, with its ligulate petals many times
doubled, is elegant and perfect; the brightness and liveliness of
the yellow, like the warm rays of an evening sun, are not ex-
ceeded in any blossom, native or foreign, that I know of; and
this, having faded away, is succeeded by a head of down, which,
loo:ened from its receptacle, and floating in the breeze, comes
sailing calmly along before us, freighted with a seed at its base ;
but so accurately adjusted is its huoyant power to the burden it
bears, that steadily passing on its way, it rests at last in some
cleft or cranny in the earth, preparatory to its period of germina-
tion, appearing more like a flight of animated creatures than the
seed of a vlant.—Journal ofa Naturahet,

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THE PENNY MAGAZINE

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'Ulmus campestris—Winter aspect.

THE ELM.

Tue stately and elegant elm, though inferior to the
oak in strength and majesty, is a favourite ornament
of the park and pleasure-ground, and being also ve

commonly planted in the hedge-row, gives a ric

appearance even to a flat country, while the green
Jane, as all who enjoy a rural walk are aware, is ren-
dered more pleasant by its embowering branches. It
is moreover truly an Bnaliah tree, and if not indige-
nous, it at least overshadowed the homesteads of our
Saxon forefathers. Domesday-Book, compiled nearly
eight centuries ago, contains the names of many places,
still in existence, whose etymology may be traced to
the elm. ‘ Toft’ is a very ancient word for a home-
stead, and in the ‘ History of Craven,’ by the learned
Dr. Whitaker, it is said that “a toft is so called from
the small tufts of maple, elm, ash, and other wood
with which dwelling-houses were anciently over-
hung :” and he adds, that ‘* even now it is impossible

to enter Craven without being struck with the ins \-
lated homesteads, surrounded by their little garths,
and overhung with tufts of trees. These are the ge-
nuine tofts and crofts of our ancestors, with the substi-
tution only of stone to the wooden crocks and thatched
roofs of antiquity.” The ancient city of Ulm, in Ba-
varia, is said to derive its name from the elms in its
vicinity. — ,
The elm is at-all seasons woey of admiration. In
early spring (though not annually) it throws out its
dark crimson blossoms before the young green leaf
has issued from the bud, and it is in full leaf earlier
than many other trees. In summer the lights and
shades of our ever-varying skies are most picturesquely
reflected by its graceful masses of foliage. In autumn,
when the time of its fading is near, the leaves of the
elm, though not presenting very diversified hues,
often assume their yellow livery at so early a period
as to arrest the mind, and forcibly impress it with the
fact that “ the harvest is past, the summer 18 ended.

Digitized by Goo. <i

1842.}

In winter, when seen against the clear sky, the elegant
manner in which the spray of the branches is formed,
and the lightness and elegance of the branchlets and
twigs, are brought out with great effect; and not less
beautiful is it when encrusted and feathered with the
hoar-frost. Our cut will show that we have done no
more than justice in speaking thus partially of the
clin. Both in England and on the Continent there are
many public walks planted with elms; and the fine
avenue in St. James's Park, London, and that of the
Champs Elysées, at Paris, will recur to many readers.
The elm thrives in most soils, with the exception of
moist clays and very light sands, but though requiring
little attention and pruning, it ig subject to several
diseases, and is ravaged and destroyed by certain
insects and grubs. It grows vigorously when all the
branches are lopped and only a few of the topmost
boughs are suffered to remain, but this mode of puol-
larding of course greatly injures the Lee be cha-
racter of the iree, though it is said to improve the
timber; and lastly, the elm bears transplanting better
than any other tree.

The size of some of the largest elms has been
recorded. The Chipstead elm, in Kent, was 60 feet
high, and contained 268 feet of timber. One at Monge-
well, Oxfordshire, was 79 feet high, 14 feet in cir-
cumference at three feet from the ground, the diame-
ter of the head 65 feet, and it contained 250 feet of
solid timber. There are some very fine elms at Ham
House in Essex, and at York House, Twickenham.
At the former place the height of one tree, in 1837,
was 88 feet, diameter at the trunk 6 feet, and of the
head 73 feet; and at the same period a tree at Twicken-
ham, one hundred and twenty years old, was 90 feet
high, diameter of the trunk 34 feet, and of the head 60
feet. At Sprotborough Hall, near Doncaster, there is
an elm 80 feet high, diameter of the trunk 54 feet, and
of the head 115 feet. In 1745 an elm was cut down at
Chelsea, said to have been planted by Queen Eliza-
beth, which was 13 feet circumference at the ground
and half as much at the height of 44 feet, and its
height was 110 feet. There are also many fine speci-
mens in Windsor Park, and the Long Walk is partly
formed of them. We have instances on record ot elms
which have put forth leaves for more than three cen-
turies, and it will continue to grow for a century ora
century and a half in favourable situations; but the
best time for felling is at the age of sixty ar eighty
years. Evelyn says that forty years are required to
produce a load of timber; and Mr. London states
(‘ Arboretum’) that young trees in the climate of Lon-
don will attain the height of 25 or 30 feet in ten
years. The wood of the elm is remarkable for the
manner in which it shrinks in drying, but when a pro-
per period has been allowed for seasoning, it stands
exposure to the sun without splitting, and 1s preferred
to all other timber for water-pipes. The ship-builder
uses it for keels.

The genus to which the elm belongs is confessedly
in great need of a more accurate classification. Mr.
Loudon remarks that ‘an Ulinarium, though it would
not exhibit so much grandeur as a Pinetum, so much
beauty as an Ericetum, nor so much beauty in early
spring as a Salictum, would be incamparably more
useful, provided proper space were allowed to admit
of every tree attaining its natural size and shape, and
that, after ten or twelve years, a specimen of every tree
were cut down and the wood examined.” The Ulma-
ce includes three genera, but the species which are
most frequently met with are the common English elm
(Ulmus campestris), and the wych or Scotch elm (Ulmus
montana). The former may he distineuishied by the small-
ness of its leaves: the leaves of the latter are not only
larger, but resemble the hazle ; and as another distinc-

A
THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

tion, it may be added, that the Scotch elm does not put
forth suckers. Mr. Loudon is of opinion that these two
are the only sorts which are really distinct. Sir Thomas
Dick Lauder, who is always anxious to maintain the
useful and picturesque character of the trees of his
native country, says, in speaking of the wych, or Scotch
elm, that “the trunk is so bold and picturesque in
form, covered as it frequently is with huge excres-
cences; the limbs and branches are so free and grace-
ful in their growth; and the foliaze is so rich, without
being leafy or clumpy as a whole; and the head is,
generally, so finely massed, and vet so well broken, as
to render it one of the noblest of park-trees.”

SOUTHERN ABORIGINES OF SOUTH
AMERICA.
{Concluded from page 34.}

Tue arts by which the Fuegians obtain food, shelter,
and clothing are few and simple. Their wigwains
scarcely exclude the weather. Those of the Tekcenica
tribe are formed by fixing poles into the earth, touching
one another, in a cirele, and uniting into a conical
shape at the top. The side against which the prevailing
winds beat is covered with more dry grass, ack. or skins
The other tribes make their wigwains in the bee-hive
shape, with branches of trees stuck in the ground and
bent together at the top. Their height from the ground
is four or five feet; and the floor being excavated,
their interior height is about five feet and a half; and
the diameter is from two to four yards. Among the
Chonos tribe, in Patagonia, huts were found of various
shapes, and some of large dimensions, capable of con-
taining fifty or sixty people. This tribe possesses the
best canoes ‘also. Some have been seen thirty feet
long and seven broad, made of plank sown together
with stripes of twisted bark and rushes: they were pro-
pelled by oars and steered by an old woman. The other
tribes make their canoes, from twelve to twenty feet
long, of the bark of trees; but in the north-eastern
parts of Tierra del Fuego there are tribes, or sections
of tribes, which have no canoes. The canoes of the
New Zealanders are far superior even to the best of
the Fuegian canoes. With the exception of necklaces,
which are composed of small shells very neatly perto-
rated, no part of their apparel seems to require the
exertion of art or ingenuity. The men are scarcely
clothed at all. Sometimes they wear on their shoulders
part of the skin of a guanaco or seal, and perhaps a
penguin-skin or bit of hide hangs in front; but often
there is only a small piece of hide fastened to the side
ar back of the body, and which cannot be regarded as
an article of dress, ting simply a pocket to carry stones
for their slings, or to put in whatever they wish to carry
to their huts. The women are rather less scantily
clothed, as they generally wear a whole skin of a gua-
naco; and the waist being encircled by a band, an
infant may be conveniently carried within the upper
part of this cloak. The offensive weapons used in con-
tests with hostile tribes or to kill game are bows and
arrows, slings, lances, and clubs. The arrows, which
are about two feet long, are made of a hard polished
wood; and‘ina notch at the end a sharp triangular
stone is placed, which remains in the wound, The
bow is three or four feet long, with the string made of
twisted sinews. Their small lances are pointed witha
sharp bone. The Fuegian is never without his sling,
which he carries round his neck or waist. Lastly, we
must include the dog asa valuable auxiliary in obtain-
ing a supply of food. Fire is always carried about
wherever they go. The bottoin of a canoe has a layer
of mud or clay for the fire-place; the baskets in which
the women carry their paints and ornaments always
contain stones (iron pyrites), and tinder of the inner

down of birds, very fine dry moss, or dried fungi.
Whirling this tinder in the air when a spark nas fallen
upon it, the flame is soon kindled. The soil is not cul-
tivated, and the vegetable productions which are eaten
are few in number, consisting of a few berries, as the
cranberry and the berry of the arbutus; also a fungus
like the oak-apple, which grows on the birch-tree.
With the exception of these spontaneous productions,
and dead whales thrown occasionally upon the coast,
the rest of their food must be obtained by tneir own
perseverance, activity, and sagacity.

The meray habits and the situations which they
most frequent have been previously noticed. Their
huts, we are told, are very commonly placed between
plojecuns rocky points on sandy or stony beaches
ronting small spaces of level land. The women, when
at home, are employed in nursing the children, feeding
the fire with dead-wood, making baskets, fishing-lines
and necklaces, fetching water in small buckets made
of birch-bark, which they of course manufacture them-
selves. Swings are made to amuse the children with
ropes of scal-skin. The women also go out to catch
small fish, to collect shell-fish, and to dive for sea-eges.
They take care of the canocs while the men are other-
wise engaged, and use the paddle while their masters
sit idle in the canoe. In some tribes the women do the
hardest work, and in all a life of the coarsest drudgery
is their common lot. ‘The men, however, are not idle.
They procure the larger kind of fish, as the seal and
porpoise, and go on hunting expeditions. While not
thus engaged, they break or cut wood and bark for fuel,
and for building their wigwaims and canoes; but the
pursuit of food is the most constant object. The
assemble with their dogs to hunt the guanaco, which
come down from the high lands in winter to the pas-
tures on the coast; and as the long legs of these ani-
mals disable them from escaping when the snow is deep,
they are taken without much difficulty. Both seal and
porpoises are speared trom their canoes; also fish of
fifteen or twenty pounds weight; the seal and 2
being valued for the oil as well as the flesh. The dog
is very serviceable in otter hunting ; but except pressed
by hunger, only parts of this animal are eaten by
the natives. Birds are pursued and killed with the
sling, as well as the bow and arrow; the dogs are
trained to catch birds on moonlight nights while roost-
ing, and to surprise the larger birds when feeding ; and
also to drive the fish towards their masters on the
fishing excursions, The cliffs on the coast afford abun-
dance of eggs; and ropes of seal-skin are made by
which they descend the face of the cliff in search of
them, as well as young birds, or seal which haunt
caves that are inaccessible from the sea. Sinall fish,
which constitute with sheill-fish a large proportion of
the food of the natives, arc caught in great abundance
in favourable weather.

Captain Fitzroy says that the Fuegians eat anything
and everything that is eatable, and do not care much
as to its not being fresh, or whether it is cooked or not.
When they have leisure, they roast shell-fish and half
broil other solid food; and though they will eat meat
raw, it cannot be said that they prefer it in this state.
They eat and drink frequently in the day-time, and two
or three times in the course of the night, drinking pure
water frequently and in large quantities.

If the Fuegians had made so slight a step as to salt
and cure the superabundance of fish and game which
they sometimes take, they would be preserved from
occasional tamines; but this accumulation of food pre-
supposes the establishment of order and security instead
of club law, aud most of their wretchedness is caused
by the absence of these blessings. However, when a
dead whale is found, they bury portions in the sand;
and when pressed by hunger, these stores@re sometimes

&
THE PENNY

MAGAZINE [Fesruary 12,
the means of preserving life. In Captam Fitzroy’s
narrative there 1s an account of a party of the natives
who were ina famishing state, on which some of the
tribe departed, observing that they would return jn four
‘sleeps’ with a supply of food. On the fifth day they
arrived in a state of great exnaustion, each man carry
ing two or three pieces of whale-blubber m a halt

utrid state, and which appeared as if it had been

uried in the sand. A hole was made in each piece,
through which the man carrying it inserted his head.
and neck. These periods of severe suffering and dis
tress occur’when heavy gales prevent the launching
of the canoes, and the rocks where shell-fish are to be
found are inaccessible; also when the frost is sertie
and the snow is deep. It is under these circumstances
that the pangs of hunger are appeased by human flesh,
the oldest woman being the first victim. The con-
querors in battle also feast on the vanquished.

A people who live in so miserable a state as the
Fucgians, are necessarily under the dominion of a
gloomy superstition. They never talk of the dead.
Their evil spirit is described as “a great black man
supposed to be always wandering about the woods and
mountains, who is certain of knowing every werd and
evcry action, who cannot be escaped, and who in-
fluences the weather according to men’s conduct.”
The brother of one of the Fuegians, whom Captain
Fitzroy took to England, had killed a man who was
detected stealing some birds which he had concealed.
He afterwards regretted that he had shed blood, and
when it began to blow very hard his conscience tor-
mented him. The half-civilized brother told the story
with wild impressiveness. “ Rain come down—snow
come down—hail come down—wind blow—blow—very
much blow. Very bad to kill man. Big man in woods
no like it; he very angry.” This spirit causes sick-
ness, famine, and other misfortunes, as well as bad
weather, It appears, from Captain Fitzroy's state-
ments, that the Fuegians also fly for consolation to a
good spirit whom they invoke in distress and danger.
As is quite natural, dreams, signs, and omens exercise
a great influence over them. The ‘doctor-wizard’ of
each tribe, generally the man most remarkable among
them for cunning and duplicity, may be regarded in
the mixed character of priest, prophet, magician, and
doctor. Scarcely any religious observance is known;
but the following instance is geserving of notice :—
‘When the supply of whale blubber reached the fa-
mished party to whom allusion has already been made,
it was distributed by the oldest man of the tribe, who
cut off a thin slice from each piece, broiled it, and
gave to each person in their turn; but before doing
so, “he muttered a few words over each in a mys-
terious manner, while strict silence was kept by the
bye-standers.” On another similar occasion, the old
man “repeatedly muttered a short prayer, looking up-
wards.” A great howling or lainentation being heard
about sunrise, a native boy who had been in England
was asked the cause, on which he said, “ people bad,
cry very much.” Captain Fitzroy auphO: that thie
outcry was devotional; but it might be a lament for
the dead, as a similar howl, ending with a low growl-
ing noise, was heard at another time. which was ascer-
tained to be occasioned by the fate of some of the tribe
who had perished shortly before.

The dead are carried out into the woods, placed
upon broken boughs of trees, and covered with a great
quantity of branches; but some of the tribes deposit
their dead in caves. They seldom live toa great age,
and the only medical remedies employed consist in
rubbing the body with oil, drinking cold water, and
causing perspiration by exposing their bodies to the
fire wrapped in skins. As soon as the young Fuegian
has attained sufficient skill in fishing and bird-catch-

142. |

ing, he marries, The first step is to obtain the consent
of the girl's parents, and he conciliates their good will
by helping them to make a canor, perhaps stealing one
for them, or to prepare their seal skins; and then,
having made or stolen a canoe for himself, he carries
off his intended wife by stealth; or, if sho is averse to
the matcn, she hides herself in the woods; but this
coquetry in savage life does not usually last long.
Both men and women display a good deal of affection
for their children. The combined influence of a father
in hus tamily; of the aged, the most cunning, and the
boldest over their fellows, and of the ‘doctor-wizards’
over the tribe, is the substitute for social government.
Language is another link which binds the individuals
of ¥ tribe into a loosely connected social state: but,
according to Mr Darwin, it scarcely deserves to be
called articulate.

In 1830 Captain Fitzroy brought to England four
natives of Tierra del Fuego; a girl, aged nine years ;
a boy, aged fourteen; and two young men, aged
twenty and twenty-six, one of the latter of whom died
of small-pox soon after reaching Plymouth. The re-
mainder were placed with the master of the intant-
school at Walthamstow, at the sole expense of Cap
fain Fitzroy. where they remained from December,
1830, to October, 1831, receiving instruction in the
plainer truths of Christianity, learning the use of com-
mon tools, and acquiring a slight knowledge of hus-
bandry and gardening. The two younger Fuegians
made some progress, but though the man took an in-
terest in smith’s or carpenter’s work, and learned to
estimate the value of animals, and the manner of tak-
ing care of them, he neither liked gardening nor learn-
ing to read. In the summer of 1831 the whole three
paid a visit to William IV. at St. James’s. In October
they left Walthamstow to return to their own country,
with large stores of clothes, tools, crockery-ware,
books, and various things contributed by their Wal-
thamstow friends and others. The ‘ Beagle,’ in which
they were to return, was commanded by their kind
friend Captain Fitzroy, and a person of the name of
Mathews went out in the same ship, with the intention
of remaining in Tierra del Fuego to teach the natives
such useful arts as were calculated to promote their
gradual civilization.

On landing the Fuegians in their native country, a
epot was selected (Woollya) for the wigwams in which
they were to reside with Mathews. ‘Jemmy,’ it was
found, though he could understand his native tongue,
had forgotten how to speak it. A garden was dug,

lanted and sowed with potatocs, carrots, turnips,

eans, peas, lettuce, onions, leeks, and cabbages. The
natives thronged to the place in hundreds, but they
behaved tolerably well on the whole. To give them
an idea of the effect of fire-arms, Captain Fitzroy em-
ployed his party one evening in firing at a target. The
next evening Mathews and the three Fuegians occu-
pied their wigwams alone, Captain Fitzroy sailing a
few miles from Woollya. On returning next day it
was found that nothing had occurred to occasion regret
at this first experiment; and a longer trial was now
determined upon. On the 27th of January, Captain
Fitzroy left Woollya to complete the survey of parts of
the coast, and did not return until the 6th of February.
In this interval matters had not proceeded so comfort-
ably. Canoes full of strangers to ‘Jemmy's’ family
had arrived, and Mathews’s whole time had been taken
up in watching and protecting his property. These
savages asked him for everything they saw, and became
enraged when nothing was given tothem. Some of
them threatened his life, and a party would gather
round him and tease him in every possible way, hold-
ing his head to the ground to show their contempt for
his strength. ‘Jemmy’ had been plundered even by

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

his own family ; and the garden was trampled all over.
It was now deiermined tbat Mathews should be re-
moved.

In March, 1834, Captain Fitzroy again revisited
Woollya. The place appeared deserted ; the wigwams
had apparently been uninhabited for some monihs;
and only a few potatoes and turnips had sprung up in
the neglected garden. In the course‘ of an hour or
two ‘Jemmy’ made his appearance, but the change
which he had undergone was so great that Captain
Fitzroy did not at first know him. Jemmy’s portrait
in 1833, and in 1834, given in the second volume,
shows how the intelligent countenance and bearirg
had given way to the wild and neglected aspect of the
Savage. He spoke English as well as ever, and even
his relations mixed broken English with their words.
Captain Fitzroy says of Jemmy that “he was nakcd,
like his companions, except a bit of skin about his
loins; his hair was long and matted, just like theirs;
he was wretchedly thin, and his eyes were affected by
smoke.” He had very nearly relapsed into his original
wild state ; and the only benefits which will probably
result from this most benevolent scheme will be con
fined, as Captain Fitzroy scems to think, to the assist-
ance and kind treatment which some shipwrecked
seainen may receive from Jemmy Button’s children ;
—but even this is something. Tierra del Fuego is not
an attractive scene for missionary enterprise, and the

oor natives of this distant part of the globe are now
eft in the saine hopeless state in which they have been
for ages. They are not destitute of natural talent,
which is for the most part displayed in the keen per-
ception common to men who obtain their food by stra-
tazem ; and they have an extraordinary local know-
ledge, which one of the natives evinced by drawing
an outline of the coast on the deck of the ‘ Beagle.’
They are besides excellent mimics, and have a good
memory. Mr. Darwin says “they could repeat, with
perfect correctness, each word in any sentence we
addressed them, and they remembered such words for
some time.”

THE DOMESTIC WINES OF THE AMERI-
CANS.

(From a Correspondent.]

THE domestic wines of America, without including
such as are occasionally made for mere experiments,
are birch and maple wine, which are furnished by the
native forests of the country, and apple or cider wine.
There are in the Aimcricaw forests several varieties of
the birch; but that from which the sap or juice 1s ex-
tracted, of which wine is made, is the bluck birch; but
where that is scarce, the sap of the white, or of
the yellow (so named from the colour of the bark), is
substituted. Many of the trees attain a much larger
size than birches do in this country, and in some places
a considerable portion of the forest-trees belong to this
family. ‘The sap can therefore be easily procured, as
it flows far more freely than even the maple sep. A
good sized sugar-maple, when the sap flows most freely,
will yield five or six gallons during the twenty-four
hours; but rarely so much, unless there be more than
one notch or auger-hole made for the sap to escape by :
whilea healthy birch, with a stem of eighteen or twenty
inches in diameter, tapped in one place, will frequently
yield twelve or fifteen gallons of sap during the twenty-
four hours. ea
The sap of the black birch is nearly as swect to the taste

as maple-sap; but though it contains much saccharine
matter, the inhabitants have never succeeded in manu-
facturing sugar from it. When procured for the pur-
» of making wine, this sweetness is sufficient to pre-
vent the necessity of adding sugar. It 1s necessary,

however, to reduce the liquid by boiling; and the

country-people who make this sort of wine boil down
the sapat the rate of from ten or twelve gallons to one,

or sometimes even less. A few hops are occasionally
boiled in the sap, or a little of the inner bark of the
sassafras-tree put into the liquid, to give it a flavour ;
but in general the wine isa purely birch wine, without
any addition whatever to the boiled sap. While it is

new and sweet it is not generally esteemed; for, be-

sides the mawkish sweetness, it has a strong and rather
bitter flavour of the birch; but by the end of the second

or third year it usually becomes much more
great care being necessary in preventing its be
acid: and great cleanliness is necessary during the
process of boiling, in order to keep it of a pale and
bright colour.

foes

The maple-wine is made from the sap of the sugar-

maple, and generally about the latter part of the season
for making sugar; for when the buds of the maple-

tree are about to burst forth into leaf, should the sap

continue to flow for a few days longer, it appears to
have undergone some peculiar change; for on evapo-

rating it sv as to reduce it toa thick syrup, the syrup
When a

sugar-maker, therefore, has finished making his sugar

will not granulate so as to become sugar.

for a year’s consumption, he sets about making a cask
or two of maple-wine. There is great difference in
the quality of the sap in maple-trees; for it often hap-

ens that, of two trees growing side by side, the sap
cau from one will be much sweeter, and consequently
yicld more sugar than the other. In most cases the
liquid will become sufficiently sweet by reducing, by
boiling, ten gallons to one; for ten gallons of good sap
commonly contain from two to three pounce of sugar.
There is nothing bitter or unpalatable in the flavour
of new wine made in this way, without any additional
ingredients; but even when it acquires age it has not
much flavour, though pretty much ona par with several
of our British sweet wines. The English settlers in
the interior of the country, particularly those who have
been accustomed to home-brewed ale and beer, not un-
frequently resort to making a beverage from the sap
of the maple as a substitute for malt liquor; for in
such situations little or no barley is grown. To effect
their object they reduce the sap, by evaporation, to
about a sixth or seventh part of the original quantity ;
and having done so, they then mix a quantity of wheat-
bran, or rye coarsely bruised between the millstones,
in the liquor, which, with the addition of the requisite
quantity of hops, is boiled for some time longer.
Afterwards it is strained and set to ferment; and betore
that has quite subsided, it is put into casks. Some of
this inaple-ale is by no means unpalatable, and much
estcemed in the absence of malt liquor; but the best
of it is far inferior to second-rate English ale.

The Americans make two sorts of what they term
apple-wine; one from the expressed juice of the apples
as it cumes from the cider-press, either by adding a
couple of pounds of sugar to every gallon of juice, and
boiling them well together, and afterwards allowing
the liquor to ferment for two or three weeks before it
is put into the bask; or else by taking the Juice, and,
instead of adding sugar, boiling it down until ten gal-
lons have been reduced to four, and afterwards leaving
it to ferment, and treating it as in the former case.
The wine made in the former way is generally pre-
ferred; but there is no distinction as regards the name,
both kinds being alike denominated apple-wine. But
the other sort of apple-wine referred to scarcely de-
serves the name of wine, for it is nothing more or
less than cider which has been in cask tor several
months, or probably a year or two, reduced, by being
submitted to the action of frost, to one-fourth or one-
fifth of its original quantity. When the frost is severe,

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

ecoming

(FEBRUARY [2,

a barrel of cider is emptied into shallow vessels: and
as ice forms on the surface of these vessels from day to
day, it is removed, as consisting of the aqueous part
only, the spirituous portion remaining behind. When
the vessels are sufficiently shallow, a very few days of
hard frost will complete the process; and then what
remains is put into clean casks for six months, at the
expitation of which it is bottled off for use. This is
ey preferred to the other sort of apple-wine,
Hee ecause it cofitains more alcohol, and is more
ebriating.

Although the Temperatice Societies in America have
greatly reduced the consumption of ardent spirits,
many of those societies tolerate anything that comes
under the denomination of wine, and hence the con-
sumption of wines has increased. Beer is not inter-
dicted by the more liberal portion of those societies;
and of late years so much has malt liquor been patron-
ised, that in many inland parts of the country ale is to
be had at every tavern, where none was to be met with
twelve or fifteen years ago.

The ‘ Peking Gazette.'—There exists throughout China but
a single newspaper, which is published at Peking, and bears the
title of § King-paou,’ or * Messenger of the Imperial Residence.’
Neither in its form (which is that of a pamphlet) nor its con-
tents does it bear a resemblance to the political journals of
Europe or America. The supreme council of the empire, in
which the ministers Have seats, assemble in the Imperial palace
at Peking. Every day, at an early hour, copious extracts on the
subjects decided or examined on the previous evening by the
emperor, are stuck upon a board in one of the courts of the
palace. A collection of these extracts composes the annuals of
the government, in which are to be found the materials fur the
history of the Chinese empire ; hence all the government boards
and public establishments are required to have copies made
daily of all proceedings which have been under consideration,
that they may be preserved in the archives. The provincial
boards receive these records through their post servants, whom
they maintain in the capital for this sole object; but, in order
that all the people of the empire may obtain a certain degree of
acquaintance with the state and progress of public affairs, the
extracts placarded are, with the permission of the government,
printed at Peking entire, without changing a single word or
omitting a single article. This is the ‘ Peking Gazette,’ or news-
paper of China, which comprises all the orders that have been
submitted to the approbation or examination of the emperor by
his ministers at Peking, and by the different provincial authori-
ties, as well as by the commanders of military corps. Appoint-
ments fo posts, promotions, sentences, punishments, reports from
the different departments of the public service, are consequently
nin hur matters contained in this publication. The reports
made by imperial officers upon particular occurrences are
brought by means of this paper to the knowledge of the world.
Occasionally the provincial re contain very interesting
notices of physical phenomena. This gazette may be subscribed
for by the year, or for an indefinite period, and it ceases to be
forwarded as svon as notice is given that it is no longer desired.
The amount of the subscription is a leang (or teal) and a quarter
(8s, dd.) perannum. Those who reside in the capital ouly have
the advantage of receiving the gazette every day at a certain
hour; as there is no regularly established post in China, the
paper does not reach distant parts of the empire till very long
after publication.— Asiatic Journal,

Condition of the Serfs of Russia.—At the beginning of winter
the peasant fases well; eats wholesome rye-bread, and plenty of
it, Towards spring his stores, never weil husbanded, begin to
fail, and the coarse rye-flour is eked out with a little chopped
straw; but when the cold season is prolonged, this position is
reversed, and it is the straw which is to till, not nourish, his
body,—eo much so that on exposure to fire this wretched bread
will ignite and blaze likeatorch, This insufficient fare is often
followed by au epidemic, typhus or scarlet fever. This latter,
especially, is the scourge of the land, and almost invariably fatal
toclildren; and villages are sometimes depopulated of their
Juvenile members; for those who struggle through the fever are
carried off by subsequent dropsy.——-Letters from the Bultic.

1842,]

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

Corropory Dauce of tne Natives.—From a print published at Sidney.)

ABORIGINES OF AUSTRALIA.

Ir 1s nota century since the discovery of New Holland,
or Australia, by Captain Cook, and for ages the abori-
gines had undisturbed possession of this vast terri-
tory, whose area is sixty times greater than that of
England. They belong to two races, one the Malay,
common to many of the islands north of Australia and
of Polynesia; and the men of the second race, who
have woolly hair, are considered as a branch of the
African negroes ; but in most other respects they differ
from them. The natives of Malay origin are the su
rior race. Major Mitchell, who has explored fully a
seventh part of Australia, estimates the native popula-
tion spread over this portion of the country at less
than six thousand. Proceeding along the coast from
east to west, great uniformity of dialects is found ; but
in eons from north to south there is often an entire
difference in parts at no great distance from each other.
Different tribes are found in succession along the
courses of the principal rivers. On the Darling river,
where fish at wild-fowl are tolerably abundant, the
tribes remain almost stationary, at least the women and
children, and some of the men, generally remain in one
spot; but the tribes who do not live upon the coast or
near the Breat rivers are necessarily migratory, as the
pursuit of the opossum, the kangaroo, and the emu leads
them over large tracts of country. As many as four
hundred natives have been seen together in one en-
campment, reckoning three natives to each fire. Some
of the tribes are remarkable for openness and frank-
ness, while others are not to be trusted for a moment,
and their countenances betray their treachery and im-
placability. A green branch herne in the hand is em-

No. 654.

blematic of peace, and their hostility is demonstrated
by presenting a burning brand, by wild gestures and
contortions, a furious dance, and by throwing up dust
and spitting towards their opponents. In common with
other uncivilized races, they possess great quickness of
apprehension, a good memory, and a minute and accu-
rate knowledge of localities; and Major Mitchell
remarks that they never seem awkward, but in man-
ners and general intelligence are superior to any
white rustics he ever saw. Several natives who were
sentenced at Sidney to work with the convict gangs
were taught in about five months the art of stone-cut-
ting and building, so as to be able to erect a small
house ; and they learned to read tolerably well in the
same time. They sometimes become good shepherds.
Our limits will only permit us to give an account
of their most striking habits and customs. Let us
first give a picture of a native at a moment when
he dreamt not of the white man being so near :—
“His hands were ready to seize, his teeth to eat,
any living thing; his step, light and noiseless as that
of a shadow, gave no intimation of his approach;
his walk suggested the idea of a prowling beast of
prey. Every little track or impression left on the
earth by the lower animals caught his keen eye,
but the trees overhead chiefly engaged his attention.
Deep in the hollow heart of some of the upper
branches was still hidden, as it seemed, the opossum
on which he was to dine. The wind blew cold and
keenly through the lofty trees, yet that brawny savage
was entirely naked.” ajor Mitchell, who gives this
account, startled him with a loud halloo, on which he
retired with a light bounding step peculiar to uncivi-
lized man, but which may be described as a sort of

Vou. XI.—K

66 THE PENNY
running walk. And here is a sketch of an old woman,
presenting a contrast such as we might expect to find.
She was “shortened and shrivelled with age, without
clothing : one eye alone saw through the dim decay of
nature -—several large fleshy excrescences projected
from the sides of her head hke so many ears, and the
jaw-bone was visible through a gash or scar on one
side of her chin. The withered arms and _ hands,
covered with earth by digging and scraping for the
snakes and worms on which she fed, resembled the
limbs and claws of a quadruped.”

A girdle made of the wool of the opossum, witha
sort of tail hanging down before and behind, is the
only article of dress worn by the men; but the women
usually wear a cloak of kangaroo skins. The head-
dress of the men consists of a bandage whitened with
pipe-clay, underneath which one of a red colour is
worn. The body is often painted, broad patches mark-
ing the muscular parts of the breast, arms, and other
ee White is the colour for mourning. In travel-
ing they erect a temporary shelter for the night with
branches of trees; but their huts are coated with clay
over a covering of grass and bark. The natives near
the rivers are able to form a canoe by stripping a sheet
of bark from a tree, filling up the ends with clay, and
in this frail boat, which will scarcely sustain a man, a
fire is kept. The bommereng is peculiar to Australia,
and may be seen in some of the London toy-shops.
Dampier described it as a sword something like a
cutlas. It is “a thin curved missile, about two feet
four inches long, which can be thrown by a skilful
hand, so as to rise upon the wind with a rotatory mo-
tion, and in a crooked direction, towards any given
point, with great precision, and to return after a con-
siderable flight within a yard or two of the thrower ;
or, by first striking the ground near him, to bound so
as to hit at a given distance any object behind a tree.”
The natives have also a peculiar method of increasing
the impetus of a spear, by projecting it from a slight
rod, about three feet long, with a niche at the end to
receive the spear. Heavy jagged spears, made of hard
wood, and set with flints, are used; others of rced,

inted with the bones of the emu, are employed in

ishing; the kangaroo is killed with spears; stone-
axes are used for cutting the opossum out of hollow
trees ; and they have a weapon of defence resembling
a pickaxe, with one-half broken off and thickened
at the angle. Since the discovery of the country by
Europeans, the iron tomahawk has, in a few instances,
found its way into the interior. The natives are often
accompanied by dogs, but do not appear to dcrive
much advantage trom them; and they have, in fact,
no keener faculties in the pursuit of wild animals than
their masters.

The most valuable kinds of food are the flesh of the
kangaroo, opossum, and emu; fish; and next reptiles,
lizards, rats, larvee, and various plants. The kangaroo
deserts the country as soon as cattle are turned upon it,
but a breed of wild cattle on the outskirts of the colony
may probably compensate for the loss of the indigenous
animal. The future increase of their numbers pro-
bably depends upon this contingency. _ Though living
in a country far jess productive than New Zealand, it
is said that none of the tribes are guilty of canni-
balism. The children subsist on a plant, which they
are taught to procure for themselves as soon as they
can walk, little wooden shovels being put into their
hands for the purpose. The adults eat the same plant,
and employ as much labour in searching and digezing
for it as would be sufficient to produce a cultivated
crop. Intheir arid country, extreme thirst is often
experienced as well as hunger, and to appease the
former some succulent but not very palatable roots
are sought after. Even the birds often reach the brink

MAGAZINE. [Fesrvary 19,
of pools in a state of exhaustion for want of water,
The commonest modes of cooking are to dig a hole,
and make a fire in it, into which stones are put, and
the meat is placed between layers of the hot stones;
or, when these do not abound, pieces of burnt clay are
used. Explorers have occasionally found a snake
grilling on a small fire of sticks; and the probability
is that their food is always cooked. The root of the
bulrush affords farina, and in some parts of the country
it is obtained in great quantities. Some of Major
Mitchell's exploring party made excellent cakes. of
this glutinous substance, “and they seemed lighter
and swecter than those of common cake.”

A few notices of the methods by which they accom-
plish some of the main purposes of life exhibit the
sort of ingenuity which necessity produces among men
destitute of the arts of civilization. The following is
a mode of obtaining a cool and refreshing draught
from hot and muddy water :—they scratch a hole in the
sand beside the standing pool, lato which the water
filters, and to purify it tufts of long grass are thrown
in, through which the water, now cool and fragrant, is
luxuriously sucked by the parched drinker. On one
occasion, Major Mitchell’s party reached a land
abounding in honey, though without the assistance of
the natives little or none would have been obtaincd:
but catching a bee, they attached a light down to it
with a little resin, the bee betrayed its home, and the
lofty branch in which its store was concealed was
quickly rifled. They gd bbc the kangaroo by
“stalking” with green branches and every other
stealthy means. The opossum is obtained out of its
hollow, not by cutting down the tree, but by making
notches in the trunk, so as to render the ascent easy to
a native. The mode of fishing by the natives on the
rivers exhibits greater ait than their methods of pur-
suing animals on land. Besides spearing fish from
their canoes, osier net-work of very neat workmanship
is stretched across a river, witha small opening towards
the middle of the stream, where a bag or net may be
placed. The fishing-nets are made by the women from
flax growing on the borders of the river, and can scarcely
be distinguished frum those of our own manufacture.
Very large nets are made, which are stretched across
the Darling for the purpose of catching wild ducks
as they fly along the river. Smaller sized nets are
spread near pools frequented oy birds, which resort
to them from great distances. he women also drag
the pools by a moveable dam of long dry twisted
grass, which allows the water to pass while the fish are
driven a-head. They are likewise very expert In pro-
curing fresh-water muscles with their toes, and in fact
the toes are nearly as useful prehensiles as the hand.
When a native pilfers an article from a white, he
usually takes it up with his tocs, passes it behind his
back, and conceals it under the arm-pit. Besides
making nets, the women display their industry and
skill in various other ways, and are patient and Jaho-
rious drudges. They carry their children on their
shoulders, and not in their arms; also bags, containing
the whole of the property of the family, as nets, whet-
stones, yellow, white, and red ochre; pins for dressing
and drying skins or for net-making; small] bomme-
rengs and shovels for the children's amusement, be-
sides other things. After a battle, they frequeutly fol-
low the victors; and the loss of a wife is one of the
heaviest calainities which can befal their husbands.

The natives of Australia believe in a good and evil
spirit, and have numerous superstitions and custems ot
a religious nature. At the age of puberty, the youth
of the male sex pass through a period of poe in
solitude, and have one of their front teeth knocked out
by a sort of priest. This mutilation distinguishes the
least ferocious tribes. Dances are connected with their

1832.)

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

hostile demonstrations, either to express their defiance | by the application of an acid or an alkali. This pecu-

or to stimulate their warlike fervour. The ‘corrobory
dance’ is an amusement partaking in a slight degree
of the nature of a rude Ayana, It is thus described
by Major Mitchell :—* This amusement always takes

ace at night, and by the light of blazing boughs.
They dance to beaten time, accompanied by a song,
stretching a skin over the knees, and thus using the
tympanum in its rudest form. The dancers paint
abemiislves white, in such remarkably varied ways, that
no two individuals are at all alike. The surrounding
chirkness seems necessary to the effect of the whole, all
these dances being more or less dramatic; the painted
figures coming forward in mystic order from the ob-
scurity of the back-ground, while the singers and beaters
of time are invisible, have a highly theatrical effect.
Each dance seems most tastefully progressive, the
movement being at first slow, and introduced by two
persons displaying the most graceful motions both of
arms and legs, while others one by one drop in, until
cach imperceptibly warms into the truly savage atti-
tude of the ‘corrobory’ jump; the legs ve tiee g the
utmost, the head turned over one shoulder, the eyes
glaring, and fixed with savage energy in one direction,
the aris raised and inclined towards the head, the
bands usually grasping waddies, bommerengs, or other
warlike weapons. The jump now keeps time with
each beat, and at each leap the dancer takes six inches
to one side, all being in a connected line led by the
first dancer. The line is doubled or tripled according
to space and numbers; and this gives great effect, for
when the front line jumps to the /eft, the second jumps
to the rigAt, the third to the eft again, and so on, until
the action acquires due intensity, when all simul-
taneously and suddenly stop. The excitement which
this dance produces in the savage is very remarkable.
However listless the individual, lying half asleep per-
haps, as they usually are when not intent on game; set
him to this dance, and he is fired with sudden energy,
every nerve is strung to such a degree, that he is no
longer to be recognised as the same individual, until
he ceases to dance, and comes to you again.”

THE CONNECTION BETWEEN THE COLOUR
AND THE ODOUR OF PLANTS.

Numerous as have been the investigations of natu-
ralists respecting the growth and physiology of plants,
there is one feature which, until the last few years, has
scarcely met with the attention which it merits, viz.
the connection between the colour and the odour of
plants. Indeed the nature and source of odour gene-
rally have been but little investigated. The fragrance
emitted by certain flowers is recognised as pleasing to
the sense of smell, and as being different in different
flowers ; but beyond this point the information afforded
us is of a very vague character. Within the last ten
years, however, experiments have been made on this
subject which merit a brief notice. The researches of
De Candolle and other physiological botanists, into the
cause of colour and odour in plants, we do not touch
upon here; it is the apparent connection between the
two which forms our subject.

Five or six years ago, Dr. Hope of Edinburgh pur-
sued a train of investigation into the colour of plants,
which, though not immediately referring to their
odour, must be mentioned here. Dr. Hope applies the
term chromule to all the coloured matters contained in
the leaves and flowers of plants: {he leaves containing
green chromule; red flowers, red chromule; yellow
flowers, yellow chromule; and so on. He next states
that besides the chromule, there is a principle or sub-
stance, which. though not itself coloured, becomes so

liar principle has been thought to be one and the same
in all cases; but Dr. Hope has found from his experi-
ments, that it is of two kinds, one of which becomes
red by the action of acids, while the other becomes yel-
low or green by the application of alkalis. He distin

guishes these from chromule by the term chromogen,
or colour-producer; and further gives the names of
erythrogen and xanthogen to the two varieties of
chromogen. We shall, however, use the terms red
chromogenand yellow chromogen: the former relating
to a colourless substance which becomes red by expo-
sure to acids; and the latter to another colourless sub-
stance which becomes yellow or yellowish-green by

exposure to an alkali.

Dr. Hope then sought to find how these two kinds
of chromogens, and many kinds of chromule, are dis-
tributed in different plants. He ascertained—1, That
leaves in general contained green chromule and yel-
low chromogen, but seldom or ever red chromogen;
2, Out of thirty varieties of white flowers, none con-
tained any tinted chromule nor red chromogen, but
there was a little yellow chromogen; 3, In yellow
flowers the yellow chromule varied in its character
and tint, but was always present, together with yellow
chromogen, but no red chromogen; 4, Blue flowers,
orange-coloured flowers, and purple flowers, all con-
tained both the red and the yellow chromogens, to-
gether with that particular tint of chromule which
corresponds with their recognised colours; 5, Experi-
ments made on various different parts of plants gave
results similar to the above in respect of colour.

Other experiments on the same subject were made
about the same time in Germany by Dr. Macquart,
which in their results differ somewhat from those ot
Dr. Hope. Dr. Macquart thinks that all flower-leaves
are originally green in the bud, and that they acquire
their subsequent colour by certain changes in the green
colouring substance. This substance is called chloro-
phyll or chlorophyle, and forms the colouring-matter
of green leaves throughout their growth. The changes
in this chlorophyle, by which green buds assume some
other colour, Mac uart states to be as follows :—That
when water or its elements are removed from the chlo-
bap ba the colouring-matter for the blue, violet, and
red flowers is produced; but that the addition of water
or its elements produces the colouring-matter for yellow
flowers. In investigating the steps by which the green
chlorophyle of the original bud becomes a coloured
flower of some other tint, he found that the transition
from grecn to yellow is made without the intervention
of any other tint; that red flowers become white in bud
after losing the green tint, and before assuming that of
red; and that blue flowers go through the gradation of
green, white, red, and blue, in bud, There are cer-
tain discrepancies in the results of these two series of
experiments, which show that the inquiry is yet in its
infancy. Both series, however, agree in this, that yel-
low flowers contain a colouring principle of a peculiar
kind which places them in a class different from most
other coloured flowers.

Without regarding the actual cause of colour, expe-
riments have been made within a few years to ascer-
tain the relation, if any, which exists between colour
and odour in plants as well as in other bodies. The ‘ Phi-
losophical Transactions’ for 1833 afford some interest-
ing details on this point. Dr. Stark, while attending
the anatomical rooms at the Edinburgh University,
during the winter session 1830-1, perceived that when
he wore a black-cloth dress his garments acquired a
very disagreeable odour in the anatomical room, which
they retained for a considerable time, whereas when
he wore an o/zve-coloured dress no such inconvenience
was experienced The circumstance apreres to Dr.

68 THE PENNY
Stark worthy of investigation; and he accordingly ex-
posed small quantities of differently coloured sub-
stances to the action of odoriferous bodies, with a view
to determine whether colour influenced the absorption
of the odoriferous principle, whatever that may be.
A small quantity of black wool, and an equal quantity
of white, were exposed for six hours to the action of
camphor, in a dark place, when it was found that the
black acquired a much more powerful odour of cam-

hor than the white. The experiment was repeated,

ut with the substitution of assafoetida for camphor ;
and in twenty-four hours the black wool had imbibed
an offensive odour, whereas the white was almost
inodorous. To determine whether vegetable substances
gave similar results, Dr. Stark took small quantities
of black and white cotton, and exposed them similarly
to the action of camphor and oF assafoetida ; and in
both cases the black cotton acquired more odour than
the white

After a while Dr. Stark extended his investigations
to other colours. He inclosed equal weights of black,
red, and white wool in a drawer with assafcetida, and
similar portions iti another drawer with camphor.
In two other drawers he exposed black, red, and white
cotton, in similar quantitics, to the action of the same
two substances; and in all four cases he found that the
black acquired the greatest amount of odour, the red
next, and the white scarcely any. The experiment
was next repeated with silk, instead of wool or cotton,
and with exactly similar results. A more extended
range of colours was then selected, and experimented
on in the following manner :—A piece of assafcetida
was placed in a darkened spot, and around it were
ranged six small pieces of wool, respectively coloured
black, blue, green, red, yellow, and white, placed cir-
cularly, without touching the assafoctida or one an-
other. At the end of twenty-four hours they were
found to have imbibed odour in the following order as
to intensity, black, blue, red, green, yellow, white, the
black being most affected, and the white least. This
experiment was repeated in six different forms, the
coloured substances being wool, cotton, and silk, and
the odorous substances assafcetida and camphor; and
In every case the most powerful odour was acquired in
the order given above, although wool imbibed more
than cotton of the same colour.

Dr. Stark found that these phenomena were capable
of being exhibited by the balance, as well as by the
organ of smell; for he ascertained that if the coloured
substance were accurately weighed before the experi-
ment, and then exposed to the action of camphor
slowly evaporated heat, the coloured substance
acquired an increase in weight; and that this increase
was greater when the colour was black, and less when
white, than with any other colour, the order being
generally black, blue, brown, red, green, yellow,
white. In these experiments by Dr. Stark the com.
parative odours of the differently-coloured substances
were determined by a great number of persons, in
order to avuid error as much as possible; and there-
fore the results stated seem worthy of attention.

In another extensive series of observations made by
Schtibler and Kohler in Tubingen, about ten years
azo, the relation of colour and odour is attended to,
more especially in reference to plants. These experi-
inentalists examined the relations of the flowers of
more than four thousand wants belonging to twenty-
seven different families, of which twenty were of that
kind denominated by botanists dicatyledwacus and the
other seven monocotyledonous, implying respectively
‘double secd-lobed’ and ‘ single seed-lobed.’ In most
of the families all the available genera and species
were examined; and in the others the must important.

There were two points to be determined: Ist, Out |

MAGAZINE. [FesBRuARY 19,:
of 4200 species of flowers, how many there were of
each colour; and, 2nd, how many of each colour were
odorous; and the results gave—

Coloured Species. Odor! ferous Species,

White 1194 187
Red 923 84
Yellow 951 7
Blue 594 31
Violet- 308 13
Green 153 24
Orange 5°) 3
Brown 18 1

4200 420

From this it dppears that white is the most extensivel
distributed colour; and that the decided colours, a
yellow, and blue, are much more plentiful than violet
green, orange, or brown; red atid yellow being nearly
equal, and not much less numerous than white. It ap-
pene also that about one-tenth part of the whole num-

er are odorous; the white, which are the most plenti-
ful, being also the most generally odorous ; atid among
the othet colours the red flowers have the greatest ten-
dency, and the blue the least, to the formation of odo-
riferous substances,

An attempt was then made to separate agreeable
from disagreeable odours; but this distinction we
should think a vague one, because an odour which
would be pleasant to one person might be unpleasant
toanother. According to the sensation of the experi-
mentalists, however, it was found that white flowers
are not only more gencrally odoriferous than others,
but their odour is also more frequently agreeable than
that of others; for in one hundred white-flowering
plants there were on an average fifteen with agreeable
odours, and only one disagreeable; whereas in one
hundred varipiels-colbured lants the agreeably odo-
rous were to the dicasrecatle only in the ratio of five
to one, instead of fifteen to one.

A further examination was made, in which the dif-
ference between light and dark tints was taken into
account; a light tint being regarded as possessing a
his deal of the character of a white flower, and there-
ore designated, perhaps er uous as having a con-
siderable share of white mixed with it. Very exten-
give tables of classification were then formed, in which
the prevailing colour of the flower is noted; then the
distinctions of light, medium, and dark tints; and
lastly, the number of odoriferous species in each. Of
these tables we can only give the last, which is a sum-
ming-up of the whole :—

Mean number of Odoriferous Species iu 100,

Inteusity of Colour in accordiug to the prevailing colour of the
Onche flowers.
Red. Violet. Bice Gieen. Yellow
With 0-12 per cent. white
(dark ) ° e . e 5°66 ee 1°63 ee 4°66
Wilh 1:-70 per cent. white ;
(medium). . . 13°09 §=3°47)— 10°45 10. (15°39
With 76-100 per cent. white
(light) ° e e e 33°99 24°39 12°90 20 24°65

It will here be seen that, omitting the colours of less
frequent occurrence, the odoriferous qualities are pos-
sessed in the order red, yellow, violet, green, blue, after
white, as the principal; and also that, taking any one
colour, there ate more odoriferous species of a light
than a dark shade in that colour, the relation being ex-
pressed by saying that there is a larger per centage of
white in the former than in the latter. ‘The most odo-
riferous combination entered in the table is the red
largely diluted with white, or light red, in which is
probably included all the varicties of “ rose-colour.”

1842.]

dark violets or very dark greens.

It might appear at first thought that some of these
results aré inconsistent with those obtained by Dr.
Stark; but it must be remembered that in one case we
are treating of the natural odour of flowers, and in

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

No odoriferous species are entered among the very

the other of odoriferous matters driven, ag it were,
into the coloured substance from without. We may
find hereafter that all the results are consistent. At
any rate the subject is well worth further investigation
on the part of those who have time and opportunities
for pursuing it.

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(The Pike (Esox luctas).)

: THE PIKE.

A.?THoueH the pike (Hsocide) is now very common
in most of our rivers and lakes, it is not supposed to
be indigenous to this country, and was considered a
great rarity for many years after its introduction. The
pike is much esteemed as an article of food: large

uantities are taken in the north of Europe, and dried
or winter consumption. _Horsea Mcre and Heigham
Sounds, in Norfolk, are the places most celebrated in
England for the i adaas Pe excellent quality of
these fish caught there. e pike grows rapidly, and
sometimes attains an enormous size.
casionally been found in the lakes of Scotland and
Ireland that have weighed upwards of seventy pounds.
It is supposed also that the pike is the longest lived of
any fresh-water fish: Izaak Walton tells us that Sir
Francis Bacon “computes it to be not usually above
forty years; and others think it to be not above ten
years; and yet Gesner mentions a pike taken in
Swedeland, in the year 1449, with aring about his
neck, declaring he was put into that pond by Frederic
II. more than two hundred years before he was last
taken, as by the inscription on that ring, being Greek,
was interpreted by the then bishop of Worms.” Walton
then goes on to say “that it is observed, that the old or

Some have oc-

very great pike have in them more of state than good-
ness; the smaller or middle-sized pikes being, by the
most and choicest palates, observed to be the best
meat.” The pike, being the largest fresh-water fish,
eats in proportion to its size; it “has always been,”
says Mr. Yarrell, “ remarkable for extraordinary vora
city.” “ Eight pike, of about five pounds weight each,
consumed nearly eight hundred gudgeons in three
weeks; and the appetite of one of these pike,” says
Mr. Jesse, ‘‘ was almost insatiable. One morning I
threw to him, one after another, five roach, each about
four inches in length: he swallowed four of them, and
kept the fifth in his mouth for about a quarter of an
hour, when it also disappeared.”

The pike is considered to be the most expensive fish
to maintain, in consequence of the immense quantities
of food that it consumes and the extreme rapidity of
its digestion. Izaak Walton says: “ All pike that
live long prove chargeable to their keepers, because
their life is maintained by the death of so many other
fish, even those of their own kind; which has made
him by some writers to be called the tyrant of the
rivers, or the fresh-water wolf, by reason of his bold,
greedy, devouring disposition; which is so keen, that,
as Gesner relates, a man going to a pond, where it
seems a pike had devoured the to water his

ay)

mule, had a pike bit his mule by the lips, to which the
pike hung so fast that the mule drew him out of the
water; and by that accident the owner of the mule
angled out the pike. And the same Gesner observes
that a maid in Poland had a pike bit her by the foot,
as she was washing clothes in a pond. And I have
heard the like of a woman in Killingworth pond, not
far from Coventry. But I have been assured by my
friend Mr. Seagrave, that keeps tame otters, that he
hath known a pike, in extreme hunger, fight with one
of his otters for a carp that the otter had caught, and
was bringing it out of the water.” A curious instance
of the extreme voracity of the pike is told us by
Bowlker, in his ‘Art of Angling :’-—‘ My father
catched a pike in Barn-Meer (a large standing water
in Cheshire), was an ell long, and weighed thirty-five
pound which he brought to the Lord Cholmondeley ;
1is lordship ordered it to be turned into a canal in the
garden, wherein were abundance of several sorts of
fish. About twelve months after, his lordship drained
the canal, and found that this overgrown pike had de-
voured all the fish, except one large carp that weighed
between nine and ten pounds, and that was bitten in
several places. The pike was then put into the canal
again, together with abundance of fish with him to feed
upon, all which he devoured in less than a year’s time,
and was observed by the gardener and workmen there
to take the ducks and other water-fowl under water;
whereupon they shot magpies and crows, and threw
thein into the canal, hich the pike took before their
eyes. Of this they acquainted their lord, who there-
upon ordered the slaughterman to fling in calves’
bellies, chickens’ guts, and such like garbage to him
to prey upon; but being soon after neglected, he died,
as supposed, for want of food.” We extract the fol-
lowing amusing anecdote from Fuller’s ‘ Worthies,
Lincolnshire :'-—A cub fox, drinking out of the river
Arnus in Italy, had his head seized on by a mighty
ike, so that neither could free themselves, but were
ingrappled together. In this contest, a young man
runs into the water, takes them out both alive, and
carrieth them to the duke of Florence, whose palace
was hard by. The porter would not admit him with-
out a promise of sharing his full half in what the duke
should give him; to which he (hopeless otherwise of
entrance) condescended. The duke, highly affected
with the rarity, was about giving him a good reward,
which the other refused, desiring his highness would
appoint onc of his guards to give him a hundred lashes,
that so his porter might have filty, according to his
composition. And here my intelligence leaveth me,
how much farther the jest was followed.”

The pike swims with greater rapidity than any other
fresh-water fish ; its speed is sometimes extraordinary.
He feeds usually on fish, and sometimes on frogs.
Izaak Walton says, “It is observed that the pike will
eat venomous things, as some kinds of frogs are, and
yet live without being harmed by them; for, as some
say, he has in him a natural balsam or antidote against
all poison.” It is supposed by the good old angler,
who is somewhat credulous, that much antipathy exists
between this fish and some species of frogs; to corro-
borate this su position, Walton extracts a long ancc-
dote from Dubtavius's book of ‘Fish and Fish-ponds,’
which we will give in his words, without at all request-
ing the confidence of our readers in the story :— As
he (Dubravius) and the Bishop Thurso were walking
by a large pond in Bohemia, they saw a frog, when the
pike lay very sleepily and quict by the shore side, leap
upon his head; and the frog having expressed malice
or anger by his swoln checks and staring cyes, did
stretch out his legs and embrace the pike’s head, and
presently reached them to his eyes, teartng with thei
and his teeth those tender parts: the pike, moved with

THE PENNY MAGAZINE,

(Fssruary 19,

anguish, moves up and down the water, and rubs him-
self against weeds and whatever he thought might
que him of his enemy; but all in vain, for the trog

id continue to ride triumphantly, and to bite and tor
ment the pike till his strength failed; and then the frog
sunk with the pike to the bottom of the water; then
presently the frog appeared again at the top, and
croaked, and seemed to rejoice like a conqueror, after
which he presently retired to his secret hole. The
bishop, that had beheld the battle, called his fisherman
to fetch his nets, and by all means to get the pike, that
they might declare what had happened ; aad: the pike
was drawn forth; and both his eyes eaten out; at
which when they began to wonder, the fisherman
wished them to forbear, and assured them he was cer-
tain that pikes were often so served.”

One of the modes of catching the pike, where tho
species abounds, as in the Meres of Norfolk, is bya
hgger or trimmer, which, says Mr. Yarrell, “is a long
cylindrical float, made of wood or cork, or rushes tied
together at each end; to the middle of this float a
string is fixed, in length froin eight to fifteen feet; this
string is wound round the float except two or three
feet, when the trimmer is to be put into the water,
and slightly fixed by a notch in the wood or cok, or
by putting it between the ends of the rushes. The
bait is fixed on the hook, and the hook fastened to the
end of the pendent string, and the whole then dropped
into the water. When the bait is seized bya pike, the
jerk looses the fastening, and the whole string un-
winds, the wood, cork, or rushes, floating at the top,
indicating what his occurred.” The common modes
of trolling need not be described.

The pike is supposed to be a melancholy fish, fond
of solitude, as he is usually observed to swim alone,
unlike the generality of fish, who seem to prefer swim-
ming in large quantities together. His courage is re-
an ae He does not fear a shadow, as all other

sh do.

THE BOATS OF RUDE NATIONS.

Tue boats or canoes of rude nations bear strong marks
of resemblance one to another, not only in different
parts of the earth, but in different ages. The reason for
this is a very obvious one, viz., that the materials out of
which a hollow shell, capable of floating on water,
might be constructed, are within the reach of most
infant nations, such as a tree to be hollowed within, or
reeds to be twisted together and covered with askin. The
ancient Britons used boats or canocs belonging to both
these classes. The coracles of our ancestors were secn
on the British rivers at the time of Julius Cesar’s in-
vasion; and were constructed of wicker-work covered
with hides. The Irish name currach, and the Welsh
cwrwgyl, probably point to the use of similar boats in
Ireland and Wales at the present day ; for Dr. Southey
remarks, in his ‘ Lives of the British Admirals, that
“ Coracles thus made, differing only in the material
with which they are coated, and carrying only a single
person, are still used upon the Severn, and in most of
the Welsh rivers. They are so small and light, that
when the fisherman lands he takes his boat out of the
water and bears it home upon his back. In the ma-
nagement of such slight and unsteady vessels great
hardihood and dexterity must have becn acquired, es-
pecially in a climate so uncertain and in such stormy
seas as ours.”

That the Britons were acquainted with the mode of
constructing boats, or rather canoes, from the hollowed
trunks of trees, many evidences remain to show. In
a inorass called Lockermoss in Duintries, Scotland, an
ancient canoe was dug up in the year 1736, with a pad-
dle near it; the canuc was about seven fect lung, and

1812.] THE PENNY
dilated to a considerable breadth at one end. Another
canoe, hollowed out of a solid tree, was scen by Mr.
Pennant near Kilblain; it was about eight feet long
by eleven inches deep. In the year 1720 several
canoes of similar construction were dug up in the
marshes of the river Medway, above Maidstone, one of
which was still in such a state of preservation as to be
used as a boat for some time afterwards. On draining
Martine Muir, or Marton Lake, in Lancashire, some
years ago, there were found, embedded in the bottom
of the lake, eight canoes, each made of a single trce.
The oak of which these several canoes were made was
found on examination to be remarkable for the free
grain of the timber ; insomuch that several millwrights
and carpenters have expressed their opinion that the
oak was of foreign growth, and the produce of a
warmer country. To this opinion Dr. Southey objects,
*‘ that the canoes could not have been brought there
from any warmer country seems certain; and if any
inference can be drawn from the grain of the wood, as
indicating its growth in a warmer climate, it would
seem to be that these canoes were made when the
climate of this island was warm enough for elephants,
hyenas, tigers, hippopotamuses, and other inhabitants
of southern countries whose remains have been brought
to light here.”

The most favourable opportunity for examining the
canoes of the ancient Britons is afforded by the spe-
cimen now deposited in the British Museum, and which
was dug up in Sussex about seven years ago. A full
description of this canoe, and of the place where it was
found, has been published in the ‘ Archxologia,’ from
the pen of Mr. Phillips ; and from this account we
shall borrow a few particulars.

The canoe was found in a ditch or drain near the
village of North Stoke, and not far from the left
bank of the river Arun, from whence the town and
castle of Arundel are named. The Arun winds round
a meadow which appears to have been once covered by
water, and in the midst of this meadow, imbedded in
what seems formerly to have been a creek or drain,
the canoe was found. One part of the canoe had been
fora long time visible at about two fect below the sur-
face of the water, and had been used as a support for
one end of a flat wooden bridge which crossed the
creek from one part of the meadow to another. It
having been deemed desirable to make some improve-
ments in the draining of the meadow. this canoe, which
had hitherto been deemed nothing more than the trunk
of a fallen trec, was brought to light. Eleven horses
were required to drag the canoe from its muddy bed;
and it was then found to be a hollowed oak trunk,
thirty-five feet long, about two deep, and four and a
half wide, the thickness of the sides and bottom being
generally about four or five inches. There are three
bars left at the bottom at different distances from each
other, and from the ends, which seem to have served
the double purpose of strengthening the bottom and
giving firm footing to those who worked the canve in
the water: they are too low and narrow to have served
for seats. Aftcr stating various reasons for supposing
that this canoe was made by the ancient Britons, and
that it had lain undiscovered in that quiet part of the
country for the intermediate ages, Mr. Phillips re-
marks, ‘* That in some very early period they (the
ancient Britons) should have recourse to the mode in
which the canoe, the subject of this paper, was made,
to cuable them to float upon their rivers for various
purposes, though not recorded in their imperfect his-
tory. would have been but in conformity with what is
known of the like invention by many other people in a
similar degree of civilization; and it is adverse to
reason to suppose that it should ever be done after the
use of iron tools in dividing trees into planks, and the

MAGAZINE. 71

advantage of constructing vessels with wood so divided,
became known and practised.” To those readers who
may not have seen this canoe in the British Museum,
to which it was presented by the nobleman, the Earl of
Egremont, on whose estate it was found, it may not
perhaps be inappropriate to mention that the canoe is
placed near the outer entrance from Great Russell
Street, under the eastern arcade in the open quadrangle
or court.

In many parts cf the world at the present day canocs
hollowed out of trunks of trees form the recognised
boats of the natives. -Fhere is a tribe of Indians on
the banks of the river Colombia in America who live
almost wholly by fishing, and the canoes which they
make for this purpose are of the following character:
they are upwards of fifty feet in length, cut out of a
single tree, either fir or white cedar, and capable of
carrying thirty persons each; they have cross-pieces
from side to side about three inches thick, and the gun-
wale of the canoe curves outwards, so as to throw off
the surges of the water. In managing these canocs
the Indians kneel two and two along the bottom, silting
on their heels, and wielding paddles from four to five
feet long, while one sits in the stern and steers with a
paddle of the same kind. The fearless unconcern with
which the Indians manage these canoes, not only in
moderately swift rivers, but even in boisterous seas,
is said to be very striking. Should a surge throw the
canoe upon its side and endanger its overturn, those to
windward lean over the upper gunwale, thrust their
paddles deep into the wave, apparently catch the water
and force it under the canve, and by this action not
merely regain an equilibrium, but give their bark a
vigorous impulse forward. Other tribes of Indians in
the same locality, but unaccustomed to the regular
use of canoes, adopt a very simple and primitive plan
of providing a temporary bark: they procure the skin
of some animal which they may have shot, extend it out
flat, fasten sticks across from side to side in different
parts, and place it on the surface of the water: the
sticks prevent the sides from collapsing ; and the skin,
by sinking or bending in the central part under the
weight of the rower, forms a recess or hollow in which
he can sit.

Instead of hollowed trunks of trees, many rude na-
tions make canoes, or rather rafts, of several solid
trunks laid side by side, and fastened together. Such
is the balsa of South America, a name derived from
that given to the tree of which the raft is made, and
which is of a white, light, and spongy character. The
balsas are, or were, used by the natives on the shores
of the Guayaquil river for fishing, for trading, and for
passage. The logs, sometimes as many as nine in
number, are fastened to each other only by withies,
with which the cross logs are also lashed to them, yet
so securely as seldom to give way. The thickest log
of the balsa is placed so as to reach farther than the
others: at the stern another log is lashed to this on
each side, and others to these, till the intended number
be completed ; the large log thus serving as a stay and
foundation for the others. The larger sort of these
balsas usually carry about twenty-five tons, without
endangering the cargo by the too profuse access of
sea-water ; because, from the peculiar manner in which
the logs are attached one to another, the whole assemn-
blage accommodates itself to the motion of the water,
and thus prevents the splashing which is so liable to
affect a rigid and water-proof boat. These balsas
work and ply to windward like a keeled vessel, and
keep their course before the wind very accurately :
this is effected by the use of some large planks called
guares, three or four yards long and half a yard broad,
which are set up vertically both at the stem and stern:
by moving these boards in different directions, as occa-

72 THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

sion may require, the balsa is made to ‘ sail large,’ to
‘tack,’ to ‘ bear up,’ or to ‘ lie-to’ (to use nautical
phrases), with tolerable ease. eh to
If the log-raft just described bears some similarity
in material to the hollowed-trunk canoe, there is also
some resemblance, in lightness and frailty, between
the ancient coracle and the birch-bark canoe of modern
America. Many of the Indians on this continent, as
well as the white traders who navigate the innumerable
lakes and rivers of the interior, are accustomed to use
canoes made of birch-bark, sewn together with fibres
of the spruce fir, and coated with a resinous or gummy
substance which exudes from the pine-trees of that
continent. The material used is so extremely light,
that a canoe thirty or forty feet long, and capable of
accommodating eight or ten men, and of bearing a
freight of four tons, can itself be easily carried on the
shoulders of six or eight men.
Many of the South Sea Islanders are accustomed to
use boats called tvahkahs, and another form called
tes, in their warlike and trading expeditions from
island to island; but as these vessels are built of planks
extending upwards on either side of a central keel, and
have a kind of deck, they form specimens of a more
advanced stage in the art of boat-building, and do not
lie within our present limits.

ELIZABETH WOODCOCK.

PERHAPS one of the most remarkable instances of the
preservation of life is that of Elizabeth Woodcock, who
survived a confinement under the snow of nearly eight
days. A short account of this poor woman’s sufferings
during and after the period of her imprisonment may
not be uninteresting to our readers. Qn the 2nd of
February of the severe winter of 1799, she was re-
turning from market on horseback, about seven o'clock
in the eyening, along the road between Cambridge
and Trumpington. uch snow had fallen in the
course of the day, which, in consequence of the vio-
Jence of the wind, had drifted in some places to a con-
siderable height. Her horse, being alarmed at some
meteoric appearance, became so restive that she was
obliged to dismount and lead him. She was thus con-
tinuing her road homewards when the animal again
started and broke from her. She immediately set off
in the hope of enue him, and succeeded jn doing
so after avne ursued him for about a quarter of a
mile. She had frardly grasped the bridle, when she
sank down by the road-side completely exhausted, and
the horse again escaped from her. e place where
she fell was by the side of a hedge, inst which the
snow was accumulating so rapidly, that in little less
than an hour she was entirely enveloped. She was
unable to make the necessary efforts to extricate her-
self in consequence of the stiffness of her clothes and
the benumbed state of her limbs; and in this distress-
ing position ghe remained until the morning of the
10th. During this time, from her own account, she
appears to have slept but little, and her sufferings from
cold and hunger were, 4s may be imagined, most in-
tense. For the first two or three days she made seyeral
ineffectual attempts to free herself from her mjserable
capuvity; but latterly her strength so ytterly failed
her, that she was obliged passively to resign herself to
her melancholy fate. As soon as she discovered how
completely she wag covered in, she had recourse to the
expedient of raising a flag as a signal of distress: this
she cffected by attaching her handkerchief to a stick
and thrusting it through a small aperture which she
observed in the snow above her head, and this ulti-
pe) proved the means of her rescue. She was fre-
quently tantalized by hearing most distinctly the sound
of carriages on the road near her, the different cries of

(Fesrvanry 19

the ne in - fields hae and the bells - the
neighbouring villages. Passengers passed by her so
close, that she could plainly overhear their convenes:
tion, although her loudest shouts were unsuccessful in
attracting their attention. She once endeavoured to
obtain some comfort from her snuff-box, but as she
found that a pinch of snuff did not yield her the usual
gratification, and she felt pain and difficulty in raising
her hand to her head, she did not again try it. Towards
the latter end of her imprisonment, she placed her two
wedding rings, with the little money she had in her
pocket, in a small box which she happened to have
with her, thinking they would thus be safer, and Jess
likely to be overlooked, if she died before she was dis-
covered. On Friday the 8th, the sixth day of her con-
finement, a thaw having taken place, the snow around
her began to melt, and the before-mentioned aperture
enlarged so much as to hold out hopes to her of being
able to effect her escape; but gn trial, she found she
had not sufficient strength to take advantage of this
means of extricating herself from her dreary prison.
It was about this time that she began to despair of
being found whilst alive, as she felt that her end was
rapidly approaching, and it is certain she could not
have suryived many more hours in this state. It was
on Sunday, the 10th, that a young farmer, seppening
to pass near the hedge, observed the handkerchief
which she had attached to the stick, and on examining
the spot, discovered the opening in the snow. He was
induced to Jook in by hearing sounds issuing from
within, and to his astonishment clearly distinguished
a female form, which he immediately recognised as
that of Elizabeth Woodcock, whom he knew to have
been missing for some time. He called two men to his
assistance, and with their help succeeded in releasing
her. She was so perfectly sensible as to know her de-
liverers by their voices, and to call them by their
names. Her husband and friends were sent for, and
arrived with a cart to convey her toherhome. At her
own request, she had some brandy and biscuit given
her, which seemed to restore her greatly, but she
fainted away on being lifted into the cart.

It appears that when her horse returned home, her
husband, being much alarmed, started off in search of
her. This he continued to do for several days, but he
had entirely given over the hope of finding her, sup-
posing that she must baye been murdered on her way

ome.

Upon examination, her legs and feet were found to
be partly mortified. He toes dropped off igiiaatd in
the course of the succeeding fortnight. his would
not have happened if her feet had not been frost-bitten
before she was covered with snow. Very little hope
was at first entertained of her recovery, as her frame
was considerably weakened by the excitement of re-
ceiving the visits of persons stimulated by curiosity
to see the woman whose singular story naturally caused
much interest in the neighbourhood. But towards the
latter end of April her general health began to amend,
and it was imagined that she would ultimately be re-
stored, although the mutilated state in which she was
left caysed her to have but little comfort in the pros-
pect that her life would be prolonged. Her case ap-

ars to have been very unskjlfully treated, as morti-

cation, it is thought, might have been prevented, if

roper means had been used. She died on the 13th of
5 uly, 1799, after having suffered most severely for five
months. She was in the forty-second year of her age.
There is some reason to suppose, however, that indul-

ence in the use of spirituous liquors was the cause
oth of her accident and her death.

———
—

dam -

1842.)

——

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

ih Hise >
ST =
“aC RTT =
[ e SMH fii i v = =
“)- {lope a)
- => “ik

alli{ |!
dy)

{Russian Travelling—Scene on the South-western Frontier.—From a Drawing by Klein.)

POST TRAVELLING IN RUSSIA.

TURNPIKE-ROADS and railways have for a long time
rendered travelling in England so safe, rapid, and
pleasant, that scarcely an individual now living has
any knowledge but from books of a time when man

rts of his own country were almost impassable. If,

owever, he travels, he is, as it were, thrown back

about acentury; for though on the Continent there
are now some lines of railway equal to our own, yet any
divergence from these lines brings him to the village
roads and tracks over uninclosed commons, of which
he has previously only read with a half incredulous
belief. The nature of the country, the climate, and
the degree of civilization in the southern provinces of
Russia make the transition from ease and comfort to
endurance and strenuous effort the more striking and
effective; the elegant chariot, the commodious ba-
rouche, and the sprightly looking ge, all disappear ;
while the sledge, the i ei the droschsky, and the
wagon become their substitutes. Of one of the modes
of conveyance we have given a representation at the
head of this article, and shall avail ourselves of the
lively and picturesque descriptions of two recent tra-
vellers to oct is idea of the nature of travelling
in the nondirern part of the Russian empire.

The first of these travellers, Count Demidoff, a
Russian nobleman residing at Paris, proceeded in
1837 on a tour to the southern provinces and the
Crimea. After descending the Danube, he with his
attendants entered Wallachia at Giurjevo. After more
than three hours of effort and persuasion, they suc-
ceeded in getting together all the post-horses of the

lace im an inclosure, as they live in the open air.
ey selected twenty-four, but then found there were
but two carriages. The horses were of a small size,
slender, not highly-bred, but possessing singular vi-

No. 635.

vacity and energy, and running with remarkable swift-
ness. Their harness is very simple: two cords, which
serve as traces, are united by a band over the breast ;
another smaller cord like a halter, and without a bit, is
passed around the head, and they are not shoed; the
action of the animal is thus entirely free. When, ona
journey, these horses appear fatigued, the postilions
descend, rub their eyes and pull their ears, persuaded
that this will refresh and relieve them. Twelve of
these coursers were attached to each of the carriages.
All at once the animals, excited by the piercing shout
of the postilions (a sort of half-naked savages), rushed
with the travellers across plains intersected with ra-
vines, rivulets, and bottomless marshes, and brought
them the same evening to Bukharest, about twenty
leagues. But this is a nobleman travelling post, and
even here the dangers are not small. The plain between
Giurjevo and Bukharest is traversed by numerous ra-
vines, which, after the heavy rains, become dangerous
bogs; more than once were their heavy carriages fixed
in the miry swamps, where the road was merely carried
across on branches of trees thrown across. But Wal-
lachia is nominally independent of Russia; we will
therefore see the Count again in the éelega, the rude and
rapid vehicle of the Crimea. The agi he says, is not
worse than the Wallachian vehicle. You are more at
ease upon the litter, which is not spared in filling up
the little box on which the traveller sits; two of whom
are able, with care, to seat themselves on the mass
of cloaks and other coverings which are heaped up in
this trough to supply the want of a raised seat, and
they thus afford each other a helping shoulder in pass-
ing rugged spots in their rapid progress, where the
telega actually leaps as it is drag forward by the
two vigorous steeds. Jn front, with no other seat than
a narrow board, sits the driver, who talks to the horses
without ceasing. In front of the pole is suspended an

Von. XI.—L

iron bell, which serves to announce their arrival to a
post station, and effectually reminds the traveller that
sleep would be dangerous on his perilous seat. When
a town is approached, the bell is silenced from respect
to the ears of the citizens. It is in this rude vehicle
that innumerable travellers, officers, agents, couriers,
government functionaries, are continually traversing
the empire, galloping night and day, without any other
shelter than a cloak ;—a cloak against the sun, against
the rain, against the dust, against the mud; “I leave
you to judge,” says the Count, “with what a constitu-
tion he must be endowed who can support this infernal
jolting.” To this is to be added the delays occasioned

y the breaking or submerging of the vehicle, both of
which the Count experienced ; as also, in a few hours’
travelling, ten ‘chocs de force,’ by which the driver
was unseated.

Our next extract is from the work of a lady, ‘ A Re-
sidence on the Shores of the Baltic,’ describing her
qoueney from Petersburg to Revel in Estonia. She

eaves the former place “ at six in the afternoon of the
19th of November, a delay until daybreak being
deemed highly hazardous. Anton on the box, and
myself, loaded with as many clothes as a southlander
would wear up in the course of a long life, nestled
down comfortably in the caléche with as little inclina-
tion as power to stir. My light English straw hat had
been banished by unanimous consent, and a close silk
wadded cap edged with fur substituted. My English
lined fur cloaks had been held up to derision as mcre
cobwebs against the cold, and a fox-fur, the hair long
as my finger, drawn over them. All my wardrobe
had been doubled and trebled, and even then my
friends shook their heads and feared I was too thinly
clad. Thus we sallied forth into the wild waste of
darkness and snow in which Petersburg lay, travellin
with four post-horses but slowly through the anaound
snowed-up roads, which were nevertheless not in the
condition to admit of a sledge. Near midnight I
alighted at the second post-house from Petersburg, the
seat being on the average twenty-five wersts long,
with four wersts tothree miles. It was a fine building
outwardly, but otherwise a mere whitened sepulchre.
Here the superintendent of the post-stables, not being
able to settle matters with Anton to their mutual satis-
faction, obtruded his fine person into my apartment,
and bowing gracefully, and with many a commanding
gesture, poured forth a torrent of words of the utmost
melody and expression. He was a perfect patriarch ;
his fresh sheepskin caftan and rich flowing beard curl-
ing round a read of the loftiest Vandyke character,
unbaring, as he spoke, a set of even gleaming teeth,
and lighted to advantage by a flaring lamp which
hug above. I was in no hurry to interrupt him.
Finding his eloquence not to the purpose he wanted,
he left me with fresh gestures of the grandest courtesy
to attack my obdurate servant, who loved copecks better
than he did the picturesque.

‘“‘ Reseated with fresh horses and lulled by the mu-
sical jingle of our post bells, I dozed with tolerable
comfort during the night, and opened my eyes with
daybreak to a perfect Esquimaux landscape; bound-
less flats of snow, low hovels of wood, and peasants
gliding noiselessly past on their tiny sledges.

** At twelve we reached Jamburg, an empty rambling
town of large crown barrack buildings and miser-
able little houses, with here aud there a bright Quentin
Matsys looking head, peeping at the equipage through
the dull double glass. ere all restless doubts rela-
tive to the existence of a bridge were to terminate, and
in a fever of anxiety I descended a hill which led to
the river Luga. There it lay before me, broad, rapid,
and dark; great masses of loose ice sulkily jostling
each other down its current; but bridge—none at all.

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

(Fesruany 26,

My heart sunk. Jamburg was but little inviting for a
fortnight’s residence, when, upon inquiry, a ferry was
found to be plying with greater difficulty and greater
risk at every transport ; and tllis would have ceased in
afew hours. Peasants with their carts and cattle stood
on the bank awaiting their turn; and after much delay,
and a profuse exchange of ‘tchorts’ (literally, ‘devil'), in
which these Russians are most liberal, and which secins
destined to be the first word I retain, our promiscuous-
laden ferry-boat ground slowly through the stiffening
ice,and at length touched the opposite shores. Here,
having abandoned our old horses on the other side,
Anton went off to search for fresh ones, and I was left
sitting in the carriage for above an hour, afnong a set
of swearing merry beings, who seemed bent alternately
on quarrelling and laughing. The banks of the Luga
are very pretty, though desolate; high rocks with a
scanty vegetation creeping among them. When fresh
horses arrived, their first task was to drag us up a hill
of unusual steepness, whence as far as Narva was one
uninterrupted plain. In Narva, which I reached about
five o’clock, after a little difficulty we found the house
to which I had been recommended by a friend, a ram-
bling edifice of unpainted wood, all on the ground
floor. I entered a suite of rooms, and caught sight of
various female shapes receding before me in the same
proportion as J] advanced, unfil having gained the
apartment conventionally dedicated to the ceremony of
reception, they all faced about, and came bowing and
curtesying forward to receive me.”

She became ill on her journey, and the hospitality
she received, though kind, was oppressive, and too in-
quisitive to be agreeable. In defiance, therefore, of
entreaties and forebodings, she started again, and in a
short time “ had entered Estonia: the landscape was
undulating and wooded, and towards evening a high
line of ocean-horizon, and a faint sound of waves,
showed me we were skirting a cliff of considerable emi-
nence. The appearance of our horses also kept pace
with the improved condition of the country. They were
beautiful sleek animals, small and graceful, sometimes
four cream-colours, sometimes black, who started at
fire, never abated their speed, and pawed the ground
with impatience when the five and twenty wersts were
run. ow they were harnessed, or how the animals
contrived to keep their places in the shifting tag and
rag which danced about them, was quite an enigma.
No less so the manoeuvre, more puzzling than any
conjuror’s trick of my childhood, by which a little
urchin, by one strong pull at a ragged rope, disen-
gaged all four horses at once.” At a post station, or
inn, while looking round “at filthy floors, rickety
chairs, and smoking guests,” she inquires of the host
whether she can have a more convenient apartment in
which to dine; and he replies, ‘* What can you desire
better?” The guests, however, displayed great polite-
ness towards the fair stranger, and withdrew to another
room. In another inn of this character she was in-
formed “ that his imperial majesty, on one of his self-
imposed forced marches, had passed through but a few
weeks back on a common ?#elega, or post-cart, and had
slept two hours on the sofa where I was now stretched.
The stage following this included a stream, generally
fordable, but now impassable. To secure, therefore,
the aid of a stone bridge, we had to make a detour
over wretched roads, which lengthened the way to
thirty-seven wersts. It was midnight ere this was
completed, and, eager to proceed, and loathing the
post-houses—for the traveller through these regions
must be placed, if not above the standard of humanity,
certainly below thuse of our native land—I incau-
tiously began another stage. The atmosphcre nuw
began to sharpen, and, from being very cold, becaine
still and intense. A thick fog also filled the air, and

1842.)

Anton, nestling his head into the depths of his furs, sat

before me like a pillar of salt. felt my warmth
graduall Or
face, eyelashes and eyebrows hung in fringes of icicles,
and a tell-tale tear of anxiety froze on my cheek.

How severely did I reproach myself for having pro-

ceeded and exposed horses and men to such incle-

mency. Meanwhile we were traversing an open plain

skirted by forests, and from time to time the silence of

the night was broken by a moaning, snarling, drawn
out cry, which fell dismally on the ear. I listened in
vain conjecture, when a piercing whine within one
hundred yards of us made me lean forward, and Anton,
remarking the movement, composedly articulated
‘ Volki’ (wolves). Had the word been less similar, I
believe I should have sprung to the conclusion, and
chilling still colder at these evidences of a savage
neighbourhood, of which we seemed the only human
occupants, I longed more impatiently than ever for
the friendly dwellings of man. At length we reached
the station-house, and, grown less dainty, I entered
instantly, and stumbled over a peasant on the floor,
who, rising stupid with sleep, drew a green long
wicked candle out of its filthy socket, and thrust it
thus into my hand, and then, passing on through a
room where fay two military men stretched on leather
benches, and another shapeless mass on the floor, as
unconcernedly as if they had been so many slumbering
infants, I penetrated, under Anton’s guidance, to an
untenanted room beyond. Here my brisk attendant,
who seemed most tenderly solicitous for my comfort,
warmed my carriage-cushions at the stove, and then
disposing them as he deemed most temptingly on
the wretched sofa, left me literally to repose. For,
oppieecd with cold and fatigue of mind and body,
sleep fell instantly upon me.” ;

After a short repose she awoke, and again resumed
her donmney: “ Again our bells jingled more cheeril
to daylight apd renovated spirits. The fog vanished,
the stn rose cloudless, and ves of birch-trees
drooped gracefully beneath thin veils of glistening
oes feos hanging like fairies in tissue robes among
them,

“ While every shrub and every blade of grass,
And every pointed thorn seem'd wrought in glass.”
And the next passage brings her to the close of the
long and toilsome journey, which she has so ani-
matedly described.

“The country was now one monotonous plain of
snow, broken only by the black and white werst-posts,
and by heaps of stones placed at distances to indicate
the line of road. And evening gathered quickly round
us, but still my eyes refused to rest, and soon they
spied a high line of distant ocean, and then, dim and
indistinct, appeared spires and towers, their utmost
points tipped with the last reflection of the departing
sun. This was Revel. I felt my eyes fill and my face glow.
What would I not have given for a friend—a servant
—a child—a dunce—the meanest creature breathing—
to whom I could have uttered the words that seemed
to choke me! But a snow-storm swept the vision
away, and all was gloomy darkness. We now descended
a steep hill, and scattered houses lay thick along the
road, and I sat leaning forward, and watching like one
who, returned to his native home, seeks some well-
known token at every turn. But what or who had I
in this strange Jand but one object, herself a home,
who dreamed not of the fevered heart that was hurry-
ing to meet hers ¥”

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

ebbing away, my breath congealed on my

JAQUES CCEUR.

Tue historians of the epoch of Charles VII. of France
have represented that monarch as possessing a mild
and just disposition; but his weakness and indolence
betrayed bim into acts of injustice and ingratitude
towards those from whom he had received signal
benefits. His persecution of Jaques Cceur is a re-
markable instance of this. This man was the greatest
merchant France ever saw, and has never been
equalled in the magnitude of his transactions but b
Cosmo de’ Medici. ‘His industry,” says Voltaire,
“was even more useful to his country during peace
than the prowess of Dunois and the Maid of Orleans
had been in enabling her to throw off the English yoke.”
Not all the commerce of France and Italy equalled
that carried on by Jaques Coeur alone : his vessels fre-
quented not only every port in Europe, but the coasts
of Asia and Africa, and three hundred factors were in
his employ. His fortune was colossal, for his enter-
rises, planned with judgment, were usually success-
ul; and “as rich as Jaques Coeur” became a pro-
verbial saying. He essed several magnificent
chateaux, which were replete with every elegant lux-
ury. But his riches were not expended upon mere pomp.
Appointed banker to the king, he lent that monarch two
hundred thousand golden crowns, unaided by which
he could not have recovered ion of Normandy
and other provinces alienated in times of anarchy from
the crown of France. The honourable conduct and
reat sagacity of this truly most remarkable man of
the age in which he lived procured his employment in
several delicate missions and important embassies.
The king perceived his worth, appreciated and re-
warded it. He granted him letters of nobility, con-
ferred the archbishopric of Bourges upon one of his
sons, and introduced another to an important office in
the palace. When he made his grand entry into Rouen,
Jaques Coeur accompanied him side by side with
Dunois and others of the nobility, whose costume and
arms he assumed. But the time had not arrived when
haughty and warlike nobles could brook that mere
merit and riches should raise a civilian to a rank
equal to their own; and, envious alike of the wealth
he possessed and of the favours he had received, they re-
solved to ruin him; while, as the slab of them were
his debtors for large sums of money lent, a ready means
of satisfying his claims seemed thus to por itself,
Both during his struggles with and after his final
expulsion of the En lish, the court of Charles was
always a scene of intrigue and turmoil, occasioned by
the unfilial conduct of the Dauphin, afterwards Louis
XI., and by the struggle for predominance among the
barons who composed it. One of these, Antony Cha-
bonnes, Lord of Dammartin, succeeded in establishing
@ permanent influence over the monarch, and proved
Jaques Coeur's bitterest enemy. In 1453 he fabricated
several accusations against him, in conjunction with
other of his enemies. The first charge, of his having
poisoned the king’s mistress, Agnes Sorel, was so ob-
viously false, that its promulgator, Jeanne de Vendome,
was condemned to make him an ample apology.
Other crimes were then imputed to him. Such riches
as his, it was said, could only have been attained by
robbery of the royal treasures. He had restored to the
Soldan of Egypt a Christian slave who had fied trom
him, lest that potentate should obstruct the passage of
his ships: moreover he had presented the Soldan with
a complete suit of armour. Jaques Coeur replied,
that his accounts would prove that his riches had ac-
crued from legitimate commerce, and that he had
always been a loyal and faithful servant to the king.
Of the Christian slave he avowed he knew nothing ;
but as his vessels were frequently absent io el years

or more, it was very possible that those who governed
them might enter into transactions of which he was not
cognizant. ‘The armour had been sent to the Soldan,
but with the king’s permission. Upon these and other
charges of as favélous a nature, was this man, an
honour to his age, thrown into prison, and all justice
denied him. The accusers were heard, but he was
denied permission to consult with advocates in re-
ference to his defence, and his children were prevented
secing him for the same object, and were not even
allowed to bring forward witnesses in their father’s
behalf, while those employed by his adversaries bore
the most infamous character. Driven to extremity, he
demanded the protection of the church, to which,
having formerly received the tonsure, he conceived he
had a right, and several prelates interceded in his
behalf. The commissioners appointed for his trial
refused the necessary time to appeal to the pope; and
when he declined answering their queries, threatened
him with the torture. As no defence was permitted,
of course he was declared guilty of high treason by
those who were predetermined to condemn him, and
who stated that he had incurred the penalty of death ;
but considering his former eminent services, and a
request on his behalf forwarded by the pope, this was
remitted. Ifis sentence was sufficiently cruel, and
reflects eternal disgrace upon the king, who, although
not the active promoter of the accusations against his
former friend and servant, by his apathy became the
indirect encourager of his enemies; while, as the
merest act of justice he should have secured him at
least a fair trial and means of defence. Jaques was
sentenced to a deprivation of all the offices he held, to
a fine of four hundred thousand crowns of gold, and to
perpetual banishment. Enormous as was the fine, if
time had been allowed him he might have discharged
it, for so rich was he that a popular opinion prevailed
that he was the lucky finder of the philosopher’s stone.
But all his property was seized upon by his enemies, the
king himeclf not hesitating to partake of the spoil. and
the unfortunate man found himself surrounded by liabi-
lities which he had incurred for the service of the state.

After two years of imprisonment, he was led to a
scaffold nearly in a state of nudity, and, with a torch in
his hand, compelled to do penance for his imaginary
crimes. Dismissed from prison, he tvandered from
port to port, hoping to find some remains of his former
vast traffic; but everywhere his vessels had been seized.
He took refuge in a monastery belonging to the Cor-
deliers at Beaucaire, but even here he did not feel
secure; for hearing the report abroad that the king
was determined to recal him, and yet to render him
ustice, he exclaimed, “Surely they do but seek my
ife.” It is Darel to know that he owed his means
uf future safety to his former dependants, who, grateful
to him for the success they had obtained in life, were
Not unmindful of their benefactor during his distress.
Villaye, formerly one of his clerks, and who had
already incurred personal danger in endeavouring to
save some vestige of his master's property, concerted
a scheme with others who had been in Coeur's employ-
ment. They took advantage of a breach in the walls
of Beaucaire, known to some of them, and having
lowered their old master through this, they put him
on board a vessel they had engaged, well defended by
several of the “war companions,” who in those days
hired themselves for every description of expeditions,
and he arrived safely in Italy. The pope received him
with honour, and after having allowed him some
months in order to repair the disordered state of his
affairs, gave him the command of several galleys em-
ployed against the infidels. It was during this expe-
dition he died, though as to the exact manner of Via
death, and the extent in which he had retrieved his

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

[FEBRUARY 26,

affairs, historians are not agreed. His last act was to
recommend his children to the consideration of the
king. Retribution overtook several of his enemics,
and the king decreed that the remaining property
should be restored to the children. Long contests,
however, followed between these and the unjust pos-
seszors of it; but in 1463, Louis XI., by a formal
decree, testified as to the iniquity of the prosecution
against Jaques Coeur, as resulting only from the vio-
lence of Antony Chabonnes; and put Geoffrey Cocur
into full possession of all the remaining property of
his unfortunate fathor, making him at the same time
his own cup-bearer.

Londen Life of last Century.—About the time that the close
of the last war undertaken by George II. threw loose upon the
thetropolis numbers of idle sailors and soldiers, and, worse than
either, those lawless men whom government, by profusely issuing
letters of marque, had encouraged to embark in a career of
licensed piracy, amid the mercenary boldness and ferocity of
bands of marauders, the crimps of the East India Company, at
that time engaged in laying the foundation of its colossal empire,
began to ply their trade on a larger scale. Amoug the atrocities
at that time too rife in the Great Babylon, none are more shock-
ing than some of the details which transpired of the interior of
the dens of these kidnappers. The giddy, dissipated, and licen-
tious—young men who had squandered everything and had no
friends, or whose friends had cast them off—were entrapped into
engagements while under the influence of liquor; and then, as
their adherence to their bargain, if left at liberty when they re-
turned to their senses, was rather problematical, shut up in
receiving-houses till opportunities offered of shipping them.
The officers of justice were too few in number, and too deficient
in organization, to hunt out unlawful transactions; as Falstaff
said of Worcester and rebellion, if they lay in their way, they
found them. And the out-of-the-way recesses and old-fashioned
buildings fn the old half-deserted parts of the town afforded
opportunities for internal fortification. The spunging-houses,
private mad-houses, and other tolerated nuisances of the time,
presented models and specious pretexts. On one occasion we
read of a man falling dead from a house in Chancery Lane at
the feet of some passengers, and a search being instituted, a
crimping-house of the East India Company's recruiting agents
is discovered, in which a number of men are detained against
their will—the deceased having been one of them, and having
lost his life in an attempt to escape by the skylights. On
another occasion the recurrence of funerals, performed under
cloud of night, with maimed rites, and without any entry being
made in the register, attracted the notice of some persons residing
in the neighbourhood of St. Bride’s church-yard. On an inquiry
being instituted into the nature of these clandestine ra it
was discovered that the bodies had come from a receiving-house
of recruits for the East India Company's service; and on that
house being broken open by order of the authorities, a dead
body, which they had not yet got smuggled out, was found in
one of the upper apartments in an advanced stage of decompo-
sition. These things were evils of themselves—aggravations of
surrounding horrora; but they were indications of liviug and
stirring employment which would attract and turn to account
the thews and sinews, aye, and the brains of many who, if left
to lounge idly at home, would have added to the number of

osts of society. At the same time the impetus given to industry
1n the manufacturing districts diminished the numbers of those
who, driven by destitution to dishonesty, bad flocked to London
as to an asylum. London was then almost the only town in the
einpire large enough to allow them to hide their heads in it with
security. Thither they all betook themselves when hard pressed,
as foxes to their most difficult cover. The most dextcrous and
daring criminals, wherever bred, gravitated by a natural attrac-
tio: towards London as the centre of their system. It was their
metropolis too. This supply was materially diminished at the
saine time that the romantic and attractive field of adventure
in the East was thrown open to the young, hot, restless bloods of
the metropolis. The ranks of the most dangerous portion of the
“classes dangereuses”—those of “to the manner born,” but
who in their fall from purer regions had brought with them the
intelligence of their earlier associates to reuder more malignant
and powerfal the propensities evolved by destitution and crime —
—were materially thinned.—London, part xi.

1842.]

— ——

iii: |
| ult

- == SETA

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

— EIS
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pia a
Lie ey i

[Group of Polygars,

THE POLYGARS OF TINNEVELLY.

same weapons; some are armed with swords and
targets, others with matchlocks or muskets; some

Near the southern extremity of Hindostan, on the | carry bows and arrows, others spears, lances, or war-
Gulf of Manaar, and east of the mountains extending ' rockets; many are expert with the battle-axe, but the

inward from Cape Comorin, lies the little-known dis-
trict of Tinnevelly, formerly a tributary state to the
Nabob of Arcot, with whose fortunes it thus became
identified, and, with the rest of the territories of that
prince, now forms the English province of the Car-
natic, under the presidency of Madras. It is large
and well peopled, but is unhealthy for Europeans,
chiefly on account of the quantities of rice and cotton

rown there. The country is in general level and

are of wood, though it has some mountains and forests,
and is well watered by numerous streams which de-
scend from the mountains in the west, while in the
south and east, towards the sea-coast, are many salt
marshes. The principal seaports are Tuticorin and
Tritchindoor ; the chief towns are Tinnevelly and Pal-
lamcotta. A great part of the land is rented by Brah-
mins, who do not Shesee personally in the task of cul-
tivation, but employ labourers of inferior castes, There
are a few Mohammedan farmers whose land is tilled
by slaves, but the numerous class of cultivators are
Sudras, many of whom perform all the operations of
the farm with their own bands.

The inhabitants are chiefly Hindoos, and they have
reserved many of their ancient privileges, This
rict is one of the few in Hindostan in which

landed property is sonnet as being vested in indi-
viduals, such property being held on ancient tenures
which have never been brought into question. It was
pe in the possession of a number of petty chiefs
called Polygars, always at war among themselves, and
who resided in separate fortresses in the midst of woods
and other places of difficult access. These chiefs were
distinguished for their valour, and were choice in their
arms and armour, as is seen from the specimens given
in the engraving. Their manners and customs in war
were similar to those of the Mahrattas. ‘They wear
no regular uniform, are under very little discipline,
and few in the same line, either of horse or foot, have the

sabre is indispensable with all. The men in armour
make a strange appearance; a helmet, covering the
head, hangs over the ears, and falls on the shoulders ;
the body is cased with iron net-work, on a thick quilted
vest; their swords are of the finest temper, and the
horsemen are very expert at this weapon. They
are not so fond of curved blades as the Turks
and Persians, but prefer a straight two-edged sword,
and will give a great price for those which they call
Alleman, or German, though formerly brought from
Damascus.” Having allied themselves with Hyder
Ali, and broken off their engagements with the British
East India Company, Colonel Fullarton, during the war
against Tippoo Saib, his son, in 1783, was employed
in reducing them 4 ap to subjection to the British
government, which he effected after taking a number
of their forts and carrying one of their forests. This
was not done, however, without a severe eed eh
and they more than once attempted to throw off the
yoke. Major Rennell, speaking of this part of India,
says, “ The almost incredible number of forts and
fortresses of various*kinds in the Carnatic occasion a
greater number of interesting positions within the
same space, than in most other countries. Villages,
and even towns, in open countries, are but of a day, com-
pared with fortresses, especially when they derive any
portion of strength from their situation, a very common
case here.”’

After the subjugation of the Nabob of Arcot in
1783, he became a subsidiary ally of the English go-
vernment till 1790, when, having failed to make Po.
ment to the East India Company of the amount of his
subsidy, which had been fixed at nine lacs of pagodas
per annum (360,000/.), Lord Cornwallis assumed the
management of the revenues, and employed the Com-
pany’s servants for their collection. This course was
abandoned in 1792, when the Nabob came anew under
engagements for payment of the same amount of

subsidy, certain districts being rendered liable to be
entered upon in case of failure in payment; but in
1801 the civil and military government of the Carnatic
was transferred to the East India Company by the
Nabob Uzeem-ud-Dowlah, upon the Company engaging
to pay him annually one-fifth of the net revenue of the
country, and providing for the principal officers of his
government. Under this arrangement Tinnevelly 1s
stated to have contributed about 23,000/. to the re-
venue. The province has now enjoyed a long con-
tinuance of tranquillity; the forts have many of them
crumbled to pieces, and those still visible are fast fall-
ing to decay, while the towns and villages have mul-
tiplied in number and increased in extent.

THE COLOUR OF THE OCEAN.

Naviaators have observed with great attention the
varying tints displayed by the ocean in different re-
gions, and the circumstances which apparently influence
- those tints. The general tenor of the evidence col-
lected, after making allowance for local exceptions, is
to the effect that the colour of the ocean approaches
more nearly to blue than to anything else. ‘To the
question, what is the colour of the sea?” says M. Arago,
‘the responses are very nearly identical. It is to an
ultramarine blue that Mr. Scoresby compares the gene-
ral tint of the Polar Sea; it is to a perfectly transparent
solution of the most beautiful indigo, or to celestial
blue, that M. Costaz assimilates the colour of the
waters of the Mediterrancan ; it is by the words bright
azure that Captain Tuckey characterises the waves of
the Atlantic in equinoctial regions; it is also bright
blue that Sir Humphry Davy assigns as the hue re-
flected by pure water procured by the melting of
snows and ice. Celestial blue then, more or less deep,
that is to say, mixed with smaller or greater quantities
of white light, would appear to have been always the
peculiar tint of the ocean.”

Yet although there is not now much difference of
opinion concerning the general colour of the ocean,
there are many exccptions to the general rule, some
of which are capable of ready explanation, while others
are still subject for conjecture. A few details will
show the nature of these exceptions, and the lécalities
where variously-coloured sca-water has been found.

In 1816 Captain Tuckey, who, like the officers of
the recent Niger expedition, made an unsuccessful
attempt to penetrate into the pcstilential regions of
Africa, was sailing on the Atlantic towards the mouth
of the river Congo, and observed a remarkable tint in
the waters of the ocean. “ After passing Cape Palmas,”
says he, “and entering the Gulf of Guinea, the sea ap-
peared of a whitish colour, growing more so until
making Prince’s Island, and its luminosity also in-
creasing, so that at night the ship seemed to be sailing
in a sea of milk.” Captain Horsburgh, in like manner,
mentions a milk-white appearance of the sea, observed
in a passage from China to Australia. Some seas pre-
sent a reddish appearance, such as that which is known
by the name of the Red Sea; such as is sometimes exhi-
bited by the sea on the coasts of Brazil and of China;
and such as has given the name of the Vermilion Sea
to a part of the ocean near California. Captain Tuckey
also found the water in Loango Bay to present a deep
red tinge, as if mixed with blood. The upper part of
the Mediterranean sometimes assumes a purple tinge.
Captain Cook, and some of the arctic navigators, de-
scribe a brown colour of the sea. In the Indian Ocean,
around the Maldive Islands, the sea presents a black
appearance, which appearance is also supposed to have
given rise to the name of the Black Sea. The Yellow
Sea, on the coast of China, similarly indicates the
source whencc its name was derived.

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

(Fesruary 26,

All the above tints are of an unusual kind, but the
intermediate changes or degrees between blue and
green arc much more common, and have been noticed
by Mr. Scoresby with great attention. He says that
in the Greenland Sea, which occupies all the portion
of the Atlantic northward of the Shetland Islands, the
colour varies from ultramarine blue to olive green,
and from the most pure transparency to great opacity ;
and he also observes that these appearances are not
transitory, but permanent, nut depending on the state
of the weather, but on the quality of the water. The
iia earae oe water he estimates to occupy one- |
ourth of the surface of that sea, occupying generally
its northern part. It is liable to alteration in its posi-
tion, from the action of the polar current; but still it
is always renewed, near certain situations, from year
to year. It often constitutes long bands or streams,
lying north and south, or north-east and south-west;
these are sometimes more than a hundred miles in
length, and thirty or forty in width. These stripes of
ou water occur principally near the meridian of

ondon, in high northern latitudes. In 1817 Mr.
Scoresby found the sea to be of a dark grass-green tint
in the meridian just mentioned, but of a transparent
blue eastward of thence. In some parts of this sea
the transition between the green and blue water is
Prop rcentys passing through the intermediate shades
in the space of three or four leagues; at others, it is so
sudden that the line of separation is seen like the
rippling of a current; and the two qualities of the water
keep apparently as distinct as the waters of a large
muddy river on entering the sea. On one occasion
Mr. Scoresby fell in with such narrow stripes of various
coloured water, that he passed streams of pale green,
olive green, and transparent blue in the course of ten
minutes’ sailing.

The mode in which all these varying tints of colour
are principally accounted for is by attributing them to
the presence in the water of minute living animals.
By referring to a paper in our last volume (page 478),
it will be seen that the phosphorescence or luminosit
which the sea sometimes presents, especially in a dar
night, is due to myriads of minute marine animals
which exist in the water at certain times and places;
and it is believed that an extension of the same mode
of explanation will avail in accounting for the above-
named colours of the sea. Captain Cook found that
the brown colour of certain seas was due to a dense
assemblage of minute mollusca and crustacea. Cap-
tain Horsburgh detected, in the white-looking water of
the Eastern seas, minute globular bodies linked to-
gether, and doubtless forming some species of beroe or
medusa. At certain seasons of the year, myriads of
red mollusca float in the seas off the coasts of Brazil
and China, and give rise, in all probability, to the
tint of those waters. A similar remark has been made
respecting the waters of the Red Sea. Captain Tuckey,
in order to discover the cause of the white appearance
of the sea in the Gulf of Guinea, caused a bag, made
of cloth and kept open by a hoop, to be lowered into
the water, by which means he captured vast numbers
of small marine animals, to which were attached
myriads of exceedingly minute crustacea, the apparent
source of the whife appearance of the water. Mr.
Scoresby was led to detect the cause of the green
colour in some parts of the Arctic Sea, by a curious
circumstance, which was of great value to him as an
adventurer in the whale fishery. He found that the
food of the whale occurs chiefly in the green-coloured
water, which therefore affords whales in greater num-
bers than the blue portions of the sea, and is constant!
sought after by the whalers. When he examined wit
great care some portions of water taken from different
parts of the sea, he found that the green water con-

1842.

tained immense numbers of medusz, from wnich the
blue water was almost frec, and the number increased
as the depth of green tint increased. He also traced
to this cause the great difference in transparency of
the two kinds of watcr, the green becoming very
opaque, from the great number of marine animals
which it contains, whereas the blue is so transparent
that Captain Wood is said to have scen the sandy
bottom, and shells strewed over it, at a depth of eighty
fathoms, near Nova Zembla.

But it is found that this explanation, though gene-
rally satisfactory, 1s not always sufficient to account
for the colour presented by the ocean. In some cases
no living animals, capable of producing the effect, can
be found in the water. Mr. Scoresby is doubtless
correct when he state that “‘ where the depth is not
considerable, the colour of the water is affected by the

uality of the bottom. Thus, fine white sand, in very
shallow water, affords a greenish grey or ape pteen
colour, becoming of a deeper shade as the depth in-
creases, or as the degree of light decreases; yellow
sand, in soundings, produces a dark green colour in
the water; dark sand, a blackish green; rocks, a
blackish or a brownish colour; and loose sand or mud,
in a tideway, a greyish colour.” Captain Tuckey, who
expected to find red animalcule in the water of
Loango Bay, found it quite free from such colouring
agents, but discovered that the bottom consisted of soft
mud composed of a reddish clay, without the smallest
admixture of sand, and so smooth that it might be laid
on in the manner of paint. It is found that at the
mouths of large rivers, where a great body of water is
discharged into the ocean, the prevailing cclour is
brownish; this appears to be caused by the impal-
pable mud which is brought down by the river, and
which is held in suspension by the water, to a consi-
derable distance from land.

Besides the presence of animal and vegetable sub-
stances in the water, and the effect of the bottom of the
sea in imparting a tint to it, a considerable portion of
the change of colour appears to be due to reflexion
from the sky and clouds. On this pvint Professor
Jameson observes :—‘‘ An apparently dark-coloured
sea is a common prognostic of an approaching storm ;
not that the water is really blacker than usual, but
because the dark colour of the clouds indistinctly seen
in or reflected from the waves is mistaken for the
colour of the sca itself. Whatever other colour the
sky happens to wear has a greater or less influence on
the appearance of the ocean; thus, red clouds seem to
tinge it red, &c. Onsome occasions the edges of the
waves, by refracting the solar beams like a prism,
exhibit all the brilliant colours of the rainbow, which
is still more nearly imitated by the refraction of the
Tays in the spray. Not unfrequently an_ indistinct
image of the neighbouring coast, reflected from the
ruffed surface, 1s mistaken for the colour of the
water.”

_ By one or other of these modes, then, is the devia-
tion from a blue tint in any part of the ocean traced to
itssource. Blue is now regarded as the natural tint,
80 to speak, reflected fiom the bosom of the waters. It
is found, however, that the blue is more intense in the
waters of the tropical regions than in latitudes ap-
proaching more nearly to the poles. A curious exampl
of this is furnished by the Gulf Stream, a modification
of the equatorial current: this current sweeps across
the Atlantic from south-east to north-west, passes
round the Gulf of Mexico (which gives it a distinctive
name), and then again traverses the Atlantic. During
this retrograde course it is seen to be more intensely
blue than the ocean through which it flows. Hum-
boldt, when in South America forty years ago, adopted
& curious mode of coinparing the depth of tint in dif-

THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 79

ferent waters. This was by using an instrument called
a cyanometer (from two Greek words implying a ‘ mea-
surer of blueness’), previously used by Saussure in
determining the depth of tints in an Alpine sky. The
cyanometer consisted of a zone or belt of pasteboard,
divided into fifty-one parts, and coloured withas many
different shades of blue, ranging from a depth of blue-
ness scarcely to be distinguished from black, to a
bluish white, and proceeding by regular gradations.
Each shade had a particular number attached to it;
and the observation consisted in determining which
number in the instrument corresponded with the tint
of the wafer (or of the sky) at any given time and
place. Humboldt found that when he regarded the
waters of the vast Pacific in fine calm weather, the
blue of the water was much more intense than that of
the sky, the cyanometric number in the former fre-
quently reaching forty or forty-two, while that of the
latter was at fourteen or fifteen.

SLATES, SLATERS, AND SLATING.

SLATES, or slate-stones, as they are called in some parts
of the country, are now so generally employed as a
covering for buildings, that there is hardly a corner of
the kingdom where some modern edifice, public or
private, does not present to view a slated roof; even
where nothing but brick buildings were seen in ancient
towns and villages, and where nothing but roofs of
tiles or pantiles inet the eye, slated buildings are now
becoming common, and most of the newly-erected
brick buildings are now slated. Many, also, of the
ancient parish churches, with their ponderous leaden
roofs, are exchanging their lead for a lighter covering
of slate; and although perhaps not quite so durable, it
is on the whole cheaper.

Slates for roofing may be divided into three varieties,
namely, the Welsh or dark-coloured slate, such as is
used for writing-slates, the Cumberland and West-
inoreland slate, which is of a light blue colour, and the
sandstone slate, which varies in colour according to the
nature and quality of the stone; but which is generally
of a greyish hue. The two former, however, are
generally employed in roofing buildings, the grey slate
being so thick and heavy as to require strong and
expensive timbers to support it ; though in some situa-
tions where it abounds, the farmhouses and out-offices
are covered with this sort, because it is found in the
neighbourhood. Particular sorts of moss and lichens
too are apt to find root upon roofs of this description,
which, if not removed, will in time overrun them, and
cause them to leak.

Notwithstanding the fineness of some of the Welsh
and Cumberland slate, which will bear to be split into
thin plates or lamin, some of it considerably less than
half an inch in thickness, a covering of it is very
durable; and whether viewed at a distance, or near at
hand, it has a far more pleasing appearance than the
old-fashioned roofs of red pantiles.

From the great demand there is for roofing-slate, a
considerable number of hands are constantly employed
in the quarries, and in vey the slate on board
vessels bound to various ports of the United Kingdom,
and some to foreign ports. The mountainous district
of country lying to the north of that estuary of the
Irish Sea called Morecambe Bay, commonly known as
‘the Lake region,’ yields the blue or Cumberland
slate, large quantities of which are shipped from the

rt of Ulverston and the villages along that cvast.
gome of the lakes, particularly Windermere and Co-
niston lake, serve as channels for the conveyance
of slate in boats built for the purpose, the slate
being afterwards carted to the nearest port. But even
in the vicinity of these lakes the quarries are sometimes

so distant that the slates have to be conveyed several
miles to the boats along steep and difficult tracks,
hardly to be called roads, opened down the sides of the
mountains for the purpose of getting the slate to
market. Some of the quarries are indced in situations
so difficult to approach, that it is impossible to employ
carts or wheel-carriages of any description, in place of
which a rude sort of sledge is made use of. Sometimes
these quarries are worked open to the surface, while
many are entered by narrow passages or tunnels which
lead into the bowels of the mountains, so that they be-
come rather mines than quarries. The rock from
which the slates are afterwards formed has to be blasted
with gunpowder, and the ee of the explosions
among the slate-quarries may be frequently heard re-
verberating among the hills, and echoed back from
mountain to mountain. In Wales, too, the slate-quar-
ries are mostly among the hills or mountains, and the
same plan of blasting or blowing the slate-rock is
adopted there, and also the same mode of conveyin
the produce of the quarries to market. For the sout
and south-western parts of England the introduction of
Welsh slate is more convenient than the blue or Cum-
berland kind, and is rather more esteemed as an article
for roofing purposes ; for, being rather finer in grain,
it is sane aha stronger than the blue sort, where the
two kinds are of equal thickness.

It was once the custom to employ in roofing only a
class of persons known by the appellation of slaters,
who invariably belonged to the section of country
where the slate-quarries were situated. It is difficult
to conceive a reason for this, but so it was, and
continued so until within a recent period. While this
was the case, many young men from Westmoreland and
Cumberland, and some from Wales, would be found
engaged in slating in most parts of the kingdom. As
cold and frosty weather is unfavourable for this work,
it is seldom followed during the winter season ;
these persons usually returned to their native places,
and there idled away a few months until the return of
spring.

For a long period the slating business was almost
exclusively in the hands of a few individuals, who es-
tablished slate-yards in various parts of the country,
em one none but their own slaters to prepare and
apply the slate. But the case is much changed, for it
is now the custom for stonemasons or bricklayers who
are much engaged in building to employ persons con-
nected with their own establishments as slaters, and the
business, which is by no means a difficult one to learn, is
no longer thus monopolised.

The slate when sent from the mines or quarries is
not in a condition to be immediately employed on
buildings, as, being of a soft texture, were it dressed
and squared in the first instance, the edges of many of
the slates would get chipped and broken in the car-
riage, and they would require dressing over again.
The slater, therefore, before he commences the opcra-
tion of slating, proceeds to dress his slates by squaring
the sides and bottom end of each slate, so that they may
match closely with each other and form regular lines
or courses along the roof, and perforates the upper end
with one or more holes for the nails. Sometimes the
slates are assorted into various sizes, the laryest and
longest courses being placed along the eaves. The
slater commences at the eaves, having first nailed his
Jaths across the rafters at the proper distance from each
other, where he places a double row, one over the
other, taking care to break the seams, that is, the join-
ings of the upper and under rows of slates. After this
has been done, the next course is then placed at a
proper distance from the extreme edge of the roof, the
distance that the respective courses overlap cach other
being called the band, and on this depends the strength

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

(Fes. 26, 1842.

and perfectness of the roofs; for the greater the band
the Icss likelihood there is of the rain beating in, or of
the slates being torn off by the wind.

LAND REPRISALS.

Murarort, in his ‘ Italian Antiquities,’ presents some
curious information respecting the state of society
during the middle ages in Italy. The utter inability
of ensuring justice and the general insecurity of pro-
perty led to the authorised practice of making re-

risals, and of this practice he has given us the fol-
Owing account :—

“* About 1289, reprisals were ted in the several
states of Lombardy, which practice prevailed so far to
the detriment of the public, that not only the convey-
ance of merchandise from place to place was sus-
pended, but no one undertook journeys to foreign
states: in fact this abominable system occasioned dis-
cord and many evils, not only throughout Lombardy,
but all Italy, and even some other countries. Reprisals
were said to take place when any native of one district
was robbed or otherwise injured by the native of
another; or even if he was refused payment of a debt;
for then the injured person was empowered to satisfy
himself at the expense of any one belonging to the
district of the robber or debtor. Thus if a Modeneat
were despoiled by a Bolognese, and could obtain no
redress on application to the magistrates of Bologna,
he would then apply to his own magistrates, and obtain
the right of reprisal, that is, of seizing from any Bo-
lognese as much as he himself had been deprived of.
Such reprisals were common after the tenth or eleventh
century, when the cities of Italy formed separate re-

ublica, frequently at variance with each other. These
isorders and the general confusion of the country
were augmented by the quarrels between the po
and the oe and the Guelphs and Ghibellines.

“ By the Modenese Statutes of 1327, the system of
reprisal was submitted to some regulations. Inquiries
were ordered to be instituted, before granting the re-
prisal, as to the justice of the claim and the failure of
endeavours at adjusting it. Whatever was seized was
sold by public auction, and the injured person satisfied
out of the proceeds. The care of the reprisals was
committed to the merchants’ consuls. When reprisals
were declared against the Modenese, it became the
duty of the podesta, or chief magistrate, of Modena to
interfere, and endeavour by agreement to avert their
execution. This same functionary was also requircd,
during the first month after he entered office, to report
to the council concerning the means of terminating
all reprisals subsisting between the inhabitants of Mo-
dena and those of Parma, Cremona, Reggio, and other
Cities, in order that the men of Modena might go and
come with their persons and goods securely in the said
citics,” Arbitrators were eventually appointed by the
various cities, to whom all controversics respecting
reprisals were referred: the communities, and not
individuals, were condemned in the penalties; and in
proportion as the necessity for the mutual protection
afforded by the law of nations became apparent, the
practice of private retribution declined.

The Firefly—We caught several of these beetles..... They
are more than half an inch long, and have a sharp moveable
horn on the head: when laid on the back, they cannot turn over
except by pressing this horn against a membrane upon the front.
Behind the eyes are two round transparent substances, full of
luminous matter, about as large as the lead of a pin, and under-
neath is a larger membrane containing the same luminous sub-
stance. Four of them together threw a brilliant light for several
yards around ; and by the light of a single one we read distinctly
the finely-printed pages of an American newspaper.—Séephcns’s
Travels in Central America, .

SUPPLEMENT.)

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

A DAY AT THE WESTMINSTER GAS-WORKS.

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(Gas-Works—Horszeferry Road.]

Wuat Dr Arnott says of the water-pipes of London,
ramifying through every street, and lane, and vane
and distributing their valuable contents to the dwell-
ings of its inhabitants, we may to a certain extent say
of the pipes through which our supply of gas is ob-
tained. “The supply and distribution of water in a
large city, since the steam-engine was added to the
apparatus, approaches closely to the perfection of
nature’s own work in the circulation of blood through
the animal body. From a general reservoir a few
main pipes issue to the chief divisions of the town;
these send suitable branches to every street, and the
branches again divide for the lanes and alleys; while
at last into every house a small leaden conduit rises,
and, if required, carries its precious freight into every
apartment, where it yields it to the turning of a cock.”

e analogy is true so far as regards the emanation
from a centre, the branching out of minor pipes from
those of larger diameter, the lateral small - lead-
ing into the houses, and the concealment of the whole
assemblage beneath the pavement and road-way; but
the subsequent movement from the branches back
again to the centre, though observable in the flow of
water veoh drains into the rivers and seas, the
evaporation from thence, and the feeding anew the
springs from which the supply was originally obtained,
is not so observable in the gas circulation.

Be the analogy what it may, however, no thinking
person can fail to be struck with the admirable means
whereby our cities and towns are now lighted. So far
back as the year 1823, when gas companies were com-
paratively in their infancy, a Committee of the House

No. 636.

of Commons spoke highly of the system of lighting
streets by gas, as a measure of street police ; and there
can be no question that the doers of evil, who “love
darkness rather than light,” infest the streets of London
not only relatively, but positively less now than before
the introduction of gas, although the inhabitants have
increased three or four hundred thousand in number.
The beauty and convenience of the light afforded by
gas in streets, shops, and buildings, are Fh sia by
all; but the protection which it gives, though not so
fully understood, is not less worthy of notice.

In a former volume of the Magazine, a few papers
were inserted with a view of giving an outline of the
gas-manufacture, the machinery employed, and the
scientific principles on which the gas is produced from
coal. Our present object is, in conformity with the
general nature of these Supplements, to be rather gra-
phic than scientific, to select some one establishment of
note, and to describe the general economy of the place,
without entering very deeply into technical detail. The
articles to which we allude are in Vol. IIJ., Nos. 159, 166,
169, 170, and 174; and the reader will find in the first of
these, a sketch of the history of gas-lightmg; in the
next three, some details of the manufacture of gas from
coal; and in the last, a notice of the manufacture of
oil-gas (since then almost abandoned). These papers
are illustrated by about twenty wood-cuts of the work-
ing details, an inspection of which will greatly assist
in imparting clear ideas on the matter. As this article
may, Leaver, fall into the hands of readers who have
not the former numbers to refer to, we shall givea
line or two here and there explanatory of the uses of

Vou. XI.—M

82 THE PENNY
different parts of the apparatus, and may as well at
once enumerate the successive steps or stages in the
process. Ist. The carburetted hydrogen, which con-
stitutes the gas for illumination, is one of the ingre-
dients in common coal, and is separated from it by
distilling the coal in highly heated vessels secluded
from the access of the air. 2nd. The substance left
behind in the heated vessels or retorts, after the vola-
tile portions have separated from it, forms the fuel
known as coke, which is either sold to other parties, or
is used, with or without admixture with coals, to heat
the retorts. 3rd. The volatilised ingredients are so
far from being pure carburetted hydrogen, that they
comprise tar, ammonia, sulphuretted hydrogen, and
other substances, all of which must be removed before
the light-producing ingredient will be in its proper
degree of purity; and the first part of this purification
is effected by a picce of apparatus called a hydraulic
main, in which the coarser impurities are deposited.
4th. The gaseous product passes through pipes, which
are either immersed in cold water, or are sprinkled by
a jet of cold water externally; whereby all the impu-
ritics which are in the gaseous form only at high tem-
ga desea are condensed, and fall into a vessel beneath ;
1ence this process is called condensing. 5th. The re-
maining gas contains sulphuretted hydrogen as well as
carburetted hydrogen; and in order to remove the
former, the whole is agitated in a vessel coniaining
either lime or lime-water, which combines with the
deleterious ingredient, and leaves the carburetted
hydrogen tolerably pure. 6th. The gas thus madc is
conveyed through pipes to immense store-vesseis called
gasometcrs or gas-holders, where it is kept out of con-
tact with the atmosphere by inverting the vessel ina
tank of water. 7th. The gas passes through a meter
or measurer, whereby the whole quantity made through-
out a given period, and the rapidity of formation at
any particular poiut of time, are determined. 8th and
lastly. The gas is conveyed from the meter to the va-
rious streets and buildings by pipes laid underground,
the supply being regulated to the demand by gauges
and valves placed near the meter.

The establishment to whose arrangements the details
of this paper are devoted is the Westminster station of
the “Chartered Gas-light and Coke Company,” which
we have visited by the obliging permission of the direc-
tors. It bears in many respects the same relation to the
gas-manufacture which the Soho factory bears to the
steam-engine manufacture. It was the establishment
which first had to bear the brunt of all the obstacles
attending the public use of gas, the difficulties in the

roduction of gas sufficiently pure for purposes of
ilumination, the difficulties attending the transmission
of gas from the works to the houses and buildings,
the enormous expense involved in the prosecution of
experiments, and—perhaps the most difficult of all—
to overcome the prejudices existing in the public
mind. In the articles before noticed, it is stated that
a Mr. Winsor, after lecturing on the subject at the
beginuing of the present century, formed a “ National
Light and eat Company,” which, though built upon
rather fanciful grounds by the projector, became the
parcnt of all the gas companies, and has ever since
taken the lead among them. The works were esta-
blished at Westminster, forming a portion of the pre-
sent large station there. Mr. Matthews, who wrote a
eel of gas-lighting about fifteen years ago, takes
the following view of the establishment of Mr. Winsor’s
company, which had become a chartered body :—* Va-
rious and plausible as were the objections urged
against it at the time, experience has proved that the
property of any individual was neither adequate to the
magnitude, nor likely to be risked in such large and
expensive undertakings; and this was shown by some

MAGAZINE, [Fespruary, 1842.
facts adduced in the evidence to support the bill. By
calculations that were made from actual surveys, it ap-
peared that the expense of laying down pipes for the
city of Westminster alone would be one hundred and
fifty thousand pounds, without including anything else.
There were also other circumstances that entitled this
company to particular attention; for, previous to this
period, their experiments for making, purifying, and
applying the use of coal-gas to the | plea light-
ing, had been made on a large and expensive scale.
And although the public had been partially benefited
from the knowledge obtained by their means, hitherto
no pecuniary advantage had resulted to themselves,
notwithstanding their zealous exertions to improve and
introduce the art of gas-lighting. However, the hope
of future benefits animated them in their further
efforts to attain their object. Perseverance enabled
them to overcome the great difficulties which attended
their pursuits; the success of their endeavours has
excited and encouraged others to engage in the same
course, and imitate their example; and how many
similar companies may trace their origin to the sti-
mulus produced by the successful establishment of
this!” The buildings which had been erccted at the
Westminster station before Mr. Matthews wrote, to-
gether with those which have been subsequently added,
have cost no less a sum than three hundred and fifty
thousand pounds.

The western station of the Chartered rhatliog & (the
other two stations being at St. Luke’s and near Shore-
ditch) occupies an oblong plot of ground, upwards of
three acrcs in extent, lying on the northern side of the
Horseferry Road, at no great distance from the Mill-
bank Penitentiary. It was probably in the open fields
when first built; but streets have been gradually
formed around it. The general arrangement of the
buildings is this:—there are two open squares or
quadrangles connected by an arched passage ; both the
quadrangles are surrounded on all four sides by build-
ings, and the larger or southern quadrangle has in
addition a large isolated building occupying its centre.
The various masses of buildings have been erected at
different tines, as the operations of the Company cx-
tended, and serve as a kind of memento of the succes-
sive steps by which this great social improvement has
been wrought.

On passing through the entrance gates from the
Horscferry Road, we sce on the right hand a range of
offices and counting-houses called collectively the
‘ Coke-Office,’ while another range on the left hand is
occupied as the ‘ Light-Office.’ In these ranges of
buildings are the offices for the Committee of Manage-
ment, the supcrintendent, the clerks, and others en-
gaged in counting-house duties. The terms ‘coke-
office’ and ‘ light office’ relate to the two great depart-
ments into which the operations of most or all gas
companies are separated ; for the sale of the coke pro-
duced in the manufacture of gas, though certainly
subordinate to that of the gas itself, is an item of great
importance, and received a proportionate share of
attention. If coals could be brought to the London
market at a price sumewhat proportionate to that
demanded at the pit’s mouth, the sale of coke would
not be looked to as a matter of so much importance ;
but the enormously high price which London manu-
facturers of every kind, as well as private persons, have
to pay for coals, renders it necessary for the gas manu-
facturer to attend to the production of coke, either for
heating the retorts or for sale. The kind of coal em-
poe is selected not with relation to the abso-
ute quantity of gas which it will yield, but with re-
ference to its yielding both good gas and good coke.
In our common domestic fireplaces we know that one
kind of coal will concrete into a mass bya sort of

SurpLEMENT. |

semi-fusion, forming cinder; while another sort will
burn away to a white ash without producing cinder.
Similar differences exist in the combustion of coal in
retorts; and the gas manufacturer for the most part
rejects that quality which will burn away to a white
ash. One portion of the coke produced at the West-
minster station is afterwards used in the ovens or fur-
naces to heat the retorts, and the remainder is sold to
manufacturers, dealers, and private persons. The
‘ coke-office’ is the place where all the arrangements
connected with the sale of the coke are carricd on;
while the clerks in the ‘ light-office’ similarly manage
the dealings of the Company with the gas consumers.
The two offices just named lie at the southern end
of the large quadrangle or court; and from them we
will proceed to the other buildings, turning to the
right after passing the entrance-gates. At and adjacent
to the south-east corner are four of those bulky vessels
which form the most conspicuous objects in a gas-
factory. The term gasoneter applicd to these vessels
is a very inappropriate one, inasmuch as it conveys an
idea of measurement as connected with the purpose of
the vessel; whereas the gasometer is in truth nothing
more than a gas-holder, in which gas may be accumu-
lated and stored. In the earlier history of the manu-
facture, however, the gas-holder was made to serve
the purpose of a gas-measurer, by the addition of a
scale of feet and inches, so that the depth of gas
in the vessel, multiplied by its area, gave the cubic
contents; and thus the term ‘gasometer’ became
introduced. So far as regards the quality and
efficacy of the gas, a gasomcter might be dispensed
with, the gas being conveyed at once from the purifiers
to the mains and burners; but it would be impossible
thus to regulate the supply to the varying demand. As
a shopkeeper provides a store of goods more than suf-
ficient for immediate demand, in order that he may be
prepared for future fluctuations; so must the gas-
works accumulate during the daytime a quantity of
gas adequate to the enormous and sudden demand
which occurs about dusk. From the first establish-
ment of gas-works it was found necessary to provide
this reserve store, but it was hoped that some means
would be discovered of dispensing with the bulky gaso-
meters. Such means have, however, not been found,
and all the gas-works exhibit these capacious reser-
voirs, At the Westminster works there are no fewer
than twenty of these, a larger number, we believe,
than has been congregated in any other place, al-
though some establishments have individual gaso-
meters of larger capacity. Persons to whom the ar-
rangement of gas-apparatus is not familiar are often
surprised at the different appearance which a gaso-
meter, as seen towering above the wall of a gas-factory,
presents at different times. At one period a kind of
scaffolding of light and elegant iron-work is seen,
forming a triangular space, within which an enormous
cylinder stands at a small height from the ground; at
another time, perhaps, after an interval of a few hours,
the cylinder will be seen to have ascended ten or
twelve feet; and at a subsequent period to have as-
cended nearly to the top of the framework forty or
fifty feet in height. These differences may be easily
understood if it be borne in mind that a gasometer
consists in reality of two vessels, one within another,
the outer one being a tank open at the top and
closed at the bottom, and the inner one being an

. inverted vessel open at bottom and closed at the top.

The tank is filled to a certain height with water,
into which the inverted vessel dips, so that the in-
terior of the latter is cut off from communication
with the external air by the interposition of the water.
A pipe passes into the tank quite through the water,
and terminates in the vacant space within the cylinder ;

THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 83

and through this pipe the gas, when completely made
and purified, is conducted. Now as _ carburetted
hydrogen (common gas) is not half so heavy, t.e. has
not half the specific gravity of atmospheric air, a cer-
tain bulk of it collected in the cylinder gives an ascen-
sive power to the latter, notwithstanding the ponderous
character of the metal; and the cylinder riscs higher
as the quantity of the contained gas increases. Balance-
weights are suspended outside the gasometer to coun-
terbalance in a certain degrce the weight of the iron
cylinder; and these weights are so adjusted as to give
to the gas a pressure or elastic force slightly greater
than that of the atmosphere. The reason of a gaso-
meter rising, then, when full, is that the iron gaso-
meter with its included carburetted hydrogen is
lighter than an equal bulk of atmospheric air.

The tank of a gasometer is made of cast-iron, while
the gas-holder is formed of sheet-iron, the sheets being
riveted at the edges, and a piece of string being in-
serted at every joint, to make it air-tight—a simple but
valuable contrivance suggested a few years ago by a
workman. In some cases a strip of tarred canvas is
pda at the joints, or else canvas coated with white
ead.

The four gasometers described as occupying the
south-east corner of the quadrangle have what is
termed the telescope constructiofi, in which there are
two gas-holders, one within another, and both within
the tank; the inner gas-holder is filled first, and then,
by an ingenious contrivance, elevates the outer one as
the gas continues to enter; the object being to gain a
greater capacity without increasing the diameter of the
vessels, since the increased height of the apparatus is
not so costly as an increased ground area. The tanks
of these gasometers are about torty feet in diameter and
eighteen fect high; and the gas-holders when full reach
to a height of nearly forty fect. About twenty ycars
ago there were some strange misconceptions afloat
respecting the danger to be apprehended from the
explosion of gasomeiers ; but in the Report of a Com-

‘mittee appointed to investigate the matter, the follow-

ing remark set the doubts at rest :—‘“ As long as every

art of this reservoir is kept in good repair and _ per-
ectly tight, the pipes leading into and out of it main-
tained in proper: condition, and plenty of water sup-
plied, so that the parts which should be under water
shall never be left bare, it scems to your Com-
mittee scarcely possible that any explosion should
take place.” The experience of subsequent years has
shown that’the gasometers are perfectly safe, and they
arc now made of much larger dimensions than any
known at that time. The average capacity of the four
alluded to above is about forty-five thousand cubic
feet each.

Proceeding northward along the right-hand boun-
dary of the quadrangle, we come to other gasometers
caclosed in brick buildings. In the infancy of the
gas manufacture, when this establishment was making
varied and costly experiments as to the best mode of
conducting the operations, it was at first eupees that
the gasometers ought to be not only bounded by brick
walls, but covered with roofs. Experience has since
shown that these expensive additions are not neces-
sary; but the brick buildings (though now roofless)
still remain, and serve as a memento of the gradual
steps by which excellence and economy have been
reached. Great indeed is the change since the time
when second-hand brewers’ vats were used as gaso-
meters!

Between or adjacent to the gasometers are cisterns
whose use curiously illustrates the branches of com-
merce which arise out of the gas manufacture. We
have slightly noticed, and a reference to our former
numbers will render more clear, the epee of a

liquid containing the alkali ammonia, from the other

roducts of the combustion of coal. This ammoniacal
iquor was at first a trouble and a burden to gas manu-
facturers ; but after a time a market was found for it,
and it isnow regularly purchased by the proprictors of
chemical works, as a source whence ammonia, or some
of its compounds, may be obtained. The tar, which is
another product of the combustion of coal in retorts,
and of which more than a hundredweight is produced
from a chaldron of coals, is separated from the gas by
the same process, and in the same vessels as the am-
moniacal liquor, and is in fact mixed with it; but as
the tar has greater specific gravity than the ammoniacal
liquor, it gradually assumes the lowest place in the
vessel, and is then easily separated. Different plans
have been adopted at different establishments in ap-
propriating the tar thus produced; some sell it at once,
as fast as it is produced; some consume a portion of it
as fuel in the retort-house; while others, by a process
of distillation, separate it into a volatile oil or naphtha,
a fixed oil, and a solid residue commonly known by
the name of pitch.

Northward of the gasometers and the tar and am-
monia-vessels is a roofed building called the ‘ con-
densing or purifying house,’ filled with a complicated
scries of vessels, employed, first, in condensing all those
impurities which are capable of condensation, and
secondly, in purifying or separating the gas from a
portion of sulphuretted hydrogen which is always pro-
duced with it, and which, besides interfering with the
brilliancy of the light, would produce a most disa-
greeable and unwholesome odour. Condensers of a
great variety of forms have been used at different
times and in different establishments; but those at the
works under consideration consist of a pipe with a
number of ascending and descending bends in it, and
short pipes at the lower end to allow the tar and am-
monia to flow out. <A constant stream of cold water
is flowing down the outside of cach pipe. by which
the gas, as it passes through, is cooled, and the con-
densible impurities separated from it. Frdm the con-
denser the gas passes to the purifiers, of which there
are three complete sets in the purifying-house, each
set consisting either of three or four large cast-iron
vessels. Reterring to our former articles for a fuller
detail, we may here merely state that the three or four
purifiers forming one sect are placed side by side, but
at different elevations; that cach vessel is supplied
with lime-water, which is kept constantly stirred by a
revolving apparatus within; that the gas passes suc-
cessively through all the vessels, parting as it gocs
with its sulphuretted hydrogen, which combines with
the lime-water. The lime-water is changed frequently
when it becomes too much sulphuretted, and matters
are so arranged that one bushel of lime will purify
twenty thousand cubic fect of gas.

In immediate connection with the building in which
the condensing and purifying processes are conducted
is an Artesian well, for supp ving the establishinent
with water, of whicha considerable quantity 1s required.
The well is in the old form, excavated and bricked, to
adepth of a hundred and twenty tect, after which it is
continued by an Artesian bore to a further depth of a
hundred fect. ‘This is one among the instances which
will probably be greatly multiplicd in future, of the
substitution of a small bore in place of an expensive
excavation; and rests ona principle which has been
before explained in this work, viz. that if the watery
stratum lying between the clay and the chalk be
reached, a small bore is nearly as effectual asa well
several feet in diameter, |

The rotating machinery in the purifying vessels, the
working of the pump in the well, and the removal of
the tar and ammoniacal liquor from one yessel to an-

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

[Fesruary, 1842

other, are effected by steam-power, which is afforded
by two steam-engines, one situated under the roof of
the purifying-house, and the other in the building oc-
cupying the central portion of the quadrangle. The
connecting machinery by which this power is trans-
ferred to the purifiers comprises the usual arrange-
ments of shafts, bevel-wheels, straps and bands, &c.,
and gives a busy appearance to the building.

The next building to the purifying-house is one in
which the sulphuretted lime undergoes certain pro-
cesses, after being removed from the purifiers. Some
of the most important improvements in the gas manu-
facture relate to this part of the proceedings. ‘The
lime-water is conveyed from the purifiers to a large
underground cistern, and from thence to a ranve
of cast-iron vessels, in what is termed the ‘ pug-
mill room,’ where it is allowed to settle, by which
the principal part of the lime subsides and sepa-
rates from the sulphuretted liquor. The lime is then
taken to a‘ pug-mill,’ a soft of a churn, and there
mixed up with clay, to form a cement or ‘ lute’ for se-
curing the covers of the retorts. The liquor is wholly
evaporated, or driven off in the form of steam, by
pOUeie it into shallow pans occupying the floor of the

urnaces or ovens in which the retorts are heated. -
This mode, so far from being inconvenient, is produc-
tive of bencfit in another way; for the steam arising
from the liquor tends to cool the bars of the furnace,
and thus to preserve them.

Next to this building isa carpenter’s shop, in which
wood-work for various Be eta connected with the
factory is made and adjusted. Adjoining this is a
store-room for fire-bricks (used in the retort furnaces)
and some other articles; and in the open area in front
are two large vessels, called saturators, through which
the whole of the gas passes after leaving the purifiers
and before being conducted to the gasometers. The
gas is, bya peculiar arrangement, subjected to a chemi-
cal process which gives it a very high degree of
purity, by abstracting all the ammonia. This is a very
recent improvement, undcr a patent obtained by Mr.
A. Crole, superintendent of the Brick-lane station of
this company.

We have now passed along the eastern side of the
large quadrangle, from the north-east corner of which
our frontispiece is taken. The building which say
the principal part of the sketch is the central building
before alluded to, through openings in which some in-
dications may be seen of the fiery nature of the opera-
tions within. The buildings at the right are those on
the western side of the quadrangle; while the fore-
ground gives some idea of the busy scene which the
whole place presents: here waggons laden with coals
and passing to the coal-stores; there waggons and
carts belonging to dealers in coke, who have come to
purchase; in one place heaps of iron pipes; in an-
other, of rctorts, about to be put in the ye of old
ones; while men are bustling about in all directions,
In crossing over to the western side, past the end of
the central building, we catch an end glimpse of
two of the retort-houses, such as is sketched in the
following cut: through a dark arch the eye can just
discern the movements of men passing to and fro in
front of the retorts, while an occasional gleam from
the retorts themselves suddenly lights up the spot.

The western side of this mundnenele is occupied
almost entirely by gasometers, enclosed in brick build-
ings without roofs. A portion of the space is however °
occupied as a coal-store, one of the many receptacles
for the vast quantity of coals consumed here. A con-
templation of such immense supplies of fuel, and of
the invaluable services derived therefrom, brings to
mind the remark of an elegant writer, that the coal-
mines of Britain “are, in effect, mines of labour or

SupPLEMENT.]

we +

—— a a

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

oe Hz
Sac Qi AMIEL ie fl mS jay

irk
if
f

‘ Yf, ‘tf, ot

.End View through Ketort-house.}

power, vastly more precious than the gold and silver
mines of Peru, for they gp oe said to produce abun-
dantly everything which labour and ingenuity can
produce, and they have essentially contributed to
make her mistress of the industry and commerce of
the earth. Britain has become to the civilised world
around nearly what an ordinary town is to the rural
district in which it stands, and of this vast and glorious
city the mines in question are the coal-cellars.” Fears
have been entertained by some that the time must be
looked forward to when this precious supply will fail
—when the mines, worked at their present enormous
rate, will no longer yield their wonted product. But
the more investigations are made, the more remote
seems to be the time when such a misfortune will befall
us; and we may safely leave to future ages the adop-
tion of a remedy, if not a prevention.

We will for the present leave unnoticed the central
building in the large quadrangle, and proceed through
an arched entrance into the inner court, which is much
smaller than the other, and without any central erec-
tion. On the right of the entrance is a store for timber
and other materials. At this part of the premises is
another series of condensing and purifying pens
comprising vessels similar to those before described,
as well as an ammonia tank, pumps, &e. Beyond
these, on the right, is a large smiths’-shop, where men
are busily engaged in the repair and adjustment of
various articles used in different parts of the works.
The gasometers, condensers, purifiers, tanks, retorts,
mains, pipes, and other iron-work of magnitude, are
of course made at the large foundries, but there are
abundant demands for smiths’-work on a smaller scale
at such an establishment as this. Beyond the smiths’-
shop is another coal-store, and near this is the northern
entrance to the works from Peter Street.

The northern end of this smaller court is occupied
aes by one gasometer, the largest in the esta-

lishment, having a capacity of eighty thousand cubic
feet: it is well placed, and has an imposing appear-

ance, especially when raised to a height of fifty or sixty
feet, as it was when we saw it. On the left or west
side of the court are two of the four retort-houses
iron-roofed buildings, in which the gas is made. The’
arrangement of these houses we shall speak of pre-
sently, and need only say here that these two present the
same striking and remarkable features which charac-
terise the other two. Inthe open court of the quad-
rangle are indications of the same traffic and bustle
which the other presents: the arrival and unloading
of sal of coal, the heaping and sprinkling of the
heated coke just brought smoking and steaming from
the retort-house, &c. At various convenient places in
this, as in the other quadrangle, are store-houses for
coal, from whence the retorts are supplied ; and in
addition, wherever room could be found for them,
gasometers are placed, to the number, in all, of twenty-
one.

We have now noticed the principal buildings, appa-
ratus, and general arrangements round both quad-
rangles of the establishment, and will next return to
the one first described, and take a hasty glance at the
building in its centre. This building is divided into
various departments, such as a deputy superintendent’s
office, an inspector's office, a meter-room, a valve-room,
two retort-houses, a coal-store, a coke-store, an en-
gine-room, &c. The four first-mentioned rooms form
a kind of additional building attached to the southern
end of the remainder, and, with its motto “ sTET CAPpt-
TOLIUM FULGENS,” is the first object which meets the
eye from the entrance. The retort-houses are built at
a few feet distance from the ground, leaving space
beneath for the coal and coke stores.

Whoever enters for the first time into a retort-house
cannot fail to be struck with its appearance, so differ-
ent from that of most other factories. The iron roof,
the iron floor, the absence of windows, the absence of
machinery and work-benches, the strange appearance
of the walls speckled over with complicated iron-work
(whose purpose is not clearly discernible), the dark-

ness of the place, the appearance of the men—all have
an aspect of strangeness. But at intervals of every
hour or two, and especially at night, the visitor's
attention is suddenly awakened to a startling scene
going on within the building. He sees a party of
men advance to one part of the side apparatus; he sees
them turn the handles of what appear to be screws;
he hears several explosive reports, followed by the re-
moval of circular iron doors or covers about a foot in
diameter; he secs a burst of. flame from cach hole
whence a cover has been removed; and on going in
front of one of these openings (if he have courage
enough) he will perceive a mass of intensely burning
coal, or rather coke, extending back to the depth of
six or seven feet. Then will follow the removal, by
means of rakes, of all the burning materials from cac
opening ; then the hissing and steaming consequent on
the wetting of the coke by buckets of water; and
then the re-charging of the heated cavity with fresh
coals. It is not until after noticing this succession of
operations that a stranger can rightly understand the
arrangements of such a place. They are—with slight
exceptions, which we need not heed here—as follows :
Fach side of the retort-house hasa succession of arched
recesses, each eight or ten feet high, 31x or seven wide,
and about as many in depth. These recesses, when
bricked or otherwise closed in front, form ovens or
furnaccs, in which fue] is burnt ona grate at the lower
part. Five, six, eight, or more oblong iron vesscls,
each holding from two to three bushels of coals, are
ranged horizontally in this oven, from front to back, so
that the heat, flame, and smoke from the furnace may
play around them, and make them red-hot. The outer
end of these vessels, which are the retorts (a name for
which we have never heard a good reason assigned),
are left open or closed as occasion may require ; an
iron door, connected with a screw, being accurately
fitted to each retort. The retorts (at the Westminster
works) are semi-cylindrical in shape, with the flat
side placed lowermost. The average height of the
retorts is perhaps about five feet from the ground;
under them is a fireplace, through which the fuel is
introduced by which they are heated; and under this
again is a kind of ash-pit or shallow vessel into
which the lime-water is poured for the purpose of
evaporation. The operation then consists in this :—The
empty retorts are first brought to a red heat; then a
‘charge’ of coals is introduced; then the cover is
screwed on the end, and made air-tight by a cement of
clay and lime. Thus the retorts remain for about five
hours, during which the fireplace is opened every hour
for the renewal of the fuel (coke at these works) with
which the retorts are heated; and at the end of this
time all the gaseous and vaporisable matters having
left the coal, and passed up from each retort by a pipe
into the ‘ hydraulic main,’ the ‘ drawing of the retorts’
commences. The retort-cover is loosened by turning
a screw; a slight explosion takes place when commu-
nication with the atmosphere is opened; the cover is
removed by the sooty and almost fire-proof hands of
the men, and the coke is drawn out by means of rakes
_ eight or ten feet long. A kind of box, made entirely of
iron, and placed upon wheels, is wheeled beneath the
front of the retorts, and into it a portion of the fiery
contents of each retort is drawn. The box is wheeled
away, and in a few minutes volumes of steam are
ascending profusely from it, the result of a plentiful
supply of water, which is thrown on it for the sake of
speedy cooling. The remainder of the coke is then
drawn out on the iron floor of the building, and after
being partially cooled by water, is removed out into
the open air. While standing within a few feet of a
party of men engaged in ‘ drawing’ a group of seven
or eight retorts, apparently unharmed and unconscious

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

[Fesruary, 1812.

of a degree of heat which would scare others, we
thought of Schiller’s ‘ Road to the Iron-foundry ;’ the
fate intended for poor Fridolin, but experienced by the
envious Robert; “ the heat which scemed as though it
would melt rocks ;” the chuckle with which the forge-
men pointed to the manner in which their lord’s orders
had been executed ; but it was satisfactory to think
that neither a Robert nor a “gentle Fridolin” could
be inserted in a gas-retort; nor are the stokers, though
swarthy enough without, so black or so stony-hearted
within as Schiller's forgemen.

The other arrangements of the retort-houscs may be
understood with tolerable clearness by a reference to
our former papers, and we shall therefore devote only
a few lines to them. In the upper part of every retort
is an opening from which ascends a vertical pipe three
or four inches in diameter. The gas, as it 1s formed,
having no other outlet, ascends this pipe, passes thence
to another pipe placed horizontally, and then enters a
descending pipe, which dips into a large main fourteen
or fifteen inches in diameter. This main is placed
horizontally along the whole length of the retort-
house, and receives all the gas from the whole range
of retorts on one side, there being two mains on oppo-
site sides of each retort-house. In these mains com-
mences that purification of the gas which is the object
of four successive processes, carried on in four distinct
kinds of apparatus, viz. the hydraulic mains, the con-
denscrs, the purifiers, and the saturators. As may be
readily supposed, the transference of the various pro-
ducts—such as gas, tar, ammoniacal liquor, &c.—from
vessel to vessel, requires a large assemblage of pipes,
some of which are carried underground, and others
within view.

The retort-houses, such as we have just described,
are four in number; two situated in the northern
quadrangle, and the other two being placed parallel
and contiguous in the central building of the southern
quadrangle. From these we pass to a series of smaller
rooms attached to the southern end of the retort-houscs,
and within view from the entrance gates. Onc ot
these is the office of the deputy superintendent of the
works, and the other two contain very ingenious spe-
cimens of apparatus whereby he can regulate the
supply of gas at all hours of the day, calculate how
much gas has been made within a certain period, as-
certain the rate at which it is being manufactured at
any particular time, and keep a check over the labours
of the men. One of these rooms is called the ‘ valve-
room,’ and contains the apparatus for regulating the
pressure and supply of the gas. To understand the
use of such apparatus, it is necessary to recal to mind
the striking change which occurs throughout London
as evening is drawing on. The lamplighter is seen
busily hastening from lamp to lamp, placing his slight
ladder against the street lamp-irons, and kindling the
flames which give to our streets no small share of their
evening attractions ; the shopkeeper begins to illumi-
nate his wares, with one blaze if he be an humble
dealer, with a dozen if his house be a ‘gin-palacc,’
with a score or two if he sells ‘unparalleled bargains’
in’ linen-drapery ; the theatres, the club-houses, the
evening exhibition-rooms—all begin to display a blaze
of light near about one time. Now it must be obvious
that the sudden demand thus created is enormous, and
it may casily be conceived that great judgment is re-
quired in adjusting the supply. In order that the gas
may be propelled through the main-pipes from the
factory to the remotest point supplied ‘rou the works,
it is necessary to give the gas a pressure or elastic
force greater than that of the atmosphere. If this
pressure be too small, the lights at remote places
would burn much: too faintly; if too large, the flames
would become so strong as to consume an inordinate

SUPPLEMENT. }

quantity of gas; if the gas flowed from the gasometers
at an hour before dusk at the same rate as at an hour
after dusk, the utmost confusion and irregularity would
occur. To obviate these evils is the object of the
pressure-apparatus. Around the valve-room are
placed valves connected with cach great main.
There are six mains branching out from the factory in
as many different directions, for the supply of different
parts of town; and as each main requires a supply of
gas proportionate to the nature and extent of the dis-
trict through which it passes, a pressure-apparatus is
attached tdit distinct from the otis Directing our
attention to one main only, we may state that after the
gas leaves the gasomcters and enters the main, it is
placed in communication with a small tube leading to
a ‘pressure-indicator,’ by which the exact pressure at
any time of the day or night is deiermnined. So long
as the oo is such as is required, no changes are
made; but when it is either too great or too small, re-
course is had to a valve, whose interior apparatus is in
connection with the main. If the pressure is too great,
the valve is drawn partly across the main, by which
the supply of gas is slackened; if too small, the valve
is opened more than before, to admit a greater volume
of gas. There adjustments are, as was before observed,
made in the ‘valve-room,’ every main having its own
‘ pressure-indicator’ and its own ‘ valve.’

A room adjacent to the one just mentioned, and
called the ‘ meter-room,’ exhibits to view a cast-iron
case of a very tasteful kind, represented in the cut at
the end of this article. This case is probably about
ten fect square, and seven or eight fect high, and occu-
pies the centre of the room. On the front are six or
eight small dials, like clock-faces, and at the back (not
seen in the cut) are two pipes ascending through the
floor, and entering the case. The case is decorated
with inuch elegance, and the motto, ‘Ex FUMO DARE
LUCEM,” expresses, not inappropiately, the light-giving
object of the whole establishment. All the gas made
at the works passcs into this case or ‘meter’ by one of
the pipes just spoken of, and leaves it by the other.
The meter will contain a certain known quantity of gas;
and while this quantity is passing through the machine,
an index hand 1s caused, by mechanism within the case,
to revolve once round a dial-plate. Every ten revolu-
tions of this hand causes another index to revolve once
round another dial-plate ; ten of these latter revolutions
caused one revolution of a third index; and so on
through six successive stages, the last index revolving
only once while a million cubic feet of gas are passing
through the meter. The superintendent, by looking at
the indications in these six dial-faces, is thus able to tell,
even to a single foot, how much gas has passed through
the meter to the main pipes. There are two other dials
on the front of the meter, one of which is a regular
clock, and the other an ingenious arrangement for
showing the rate at which the gas is passing through
the meter at any particular time.

The operations of a ga3-factory, like those of a glass-
factory, and even in a still greater degree, are inter-
minable from the beginning to the end of the year.
No cessation, even for a moment, occurs in the labours.
One party of men are engaged at night; another party
relieve them after an interval of twelve hours, and are
employed by day; but the furnaces are always heated,
the retorts always supplied with their fiercely burning
contents, the gas always undergoing the purifying po
cesses previous to its passage into the gasometers. The
number of retorts worked varies at different seasons of
the year, aceording to the length of time between sunset
and sunrise ; for the gas-manufacturer is regulated, more
perhaps than most other manufacturers, by the move-
ments of the sun. But whether the number actually
worked at any one time be greater or smaller, the sys-

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

tem pursued is nearly the same. At the Westminster
works the retorts are so divided into groups that some
of them shall be ready for ‘drawing’ every hour. If
we suppose, for instance, that a charge of coals remains
five hours in the retort, and that the retorts are divided
into five parcels or sets, one set would be filled (say) at
noon, another at one o’clock, and the rest at two, three,
and four o'clock respectively. Then, by five o'clock
the first set of retorts are ready to be deen at six
o'clock the second set; and so on with the others. The
precise arrangements we need not enter into, but it
will suffice to say that exactly as the clock strikes each
successive hour, the men loosen and remove the covers
of the retorts, draw out a portion of the coke into large
iron boxes, draw out the rest upon the iron floor of
the retort-house, throw water on the coke preparatory
to its removal from the retort-house, recharge the re-
torts with fresh coal, replenish the fires with a fresh
supply of coke, and fit the covers—coated on their
inner surface with a thick layer of lime and clay ce-
ment—firmly on the mouths of the retorts. In the in-
tervals which elapse between the successive ‘drawings’,
the men are employed in pouring the lime-water
into the troughs beneath the fireplaces, in placing new
layers of cement on the retort-covers to be used after
the next drawing, in carrying out the coke into the
open air, and afterwards into the sheds or stores, in
bringing coals from the coal-stores to the retort-
houses, in removing the ashes which fall into the lime-
water in the ash-pit, and in various other duties sub-
sidiary to the manufacture of gas. The subsequent
prcreranos or rather perfecting of the gas, demands
ut a small amount of manual labour; it 1s in fact per-
formed by the steam-engine, which pumps up the water
from the well, transfers from vessel to vessel the tar and
the ammoniacal liquor abstracted from the gas, and seta
in rotation the arms or fans in the pos vessels,
There is perhaps no part of the gas mechanism
which requires better workmanship and more careful
attention than the pipes which convey the invisible
agent from the works to the places where it is con-
sumed. However perfect may be the mode in which
the gas is manufactured, however plentiful the supply,
yct if the pipes are either too small or too large, if
they are laid cither too horizontal or too much in-
clined, if any of the innuinerable joints are imperfectly
fitted, the most serious inconvenience results. The
mains vary from three inches to eighteen inchcs in
diameter, independent of the small lateral pipes which
proceed from the mains into the houses. The largest
mains are placed nearest to the gas-works ; the next in
size are appropriated to the ene) strects and
thoroughfares ; while the smaller are for the less im-
portant lanes and streets. Where the streets are wide,
and the number of lights dk ae large, it is usual to
lay mains on both sides of the street; and the dia-
meters of these mains are made to depend not only on
the magnitude and importance of the street, but on its
elevation, its distance from the works, and other cir-
cumstances. There is a circumstance attended to in
laying down the mains which is perhaps not gencrally
known. They are laid with a gradual inclination,
amounting perhaps to an inch in ten or twelve yards,
instead of being horizontal ; and when this slope has con-
tinued for one or two hundred yards, the mains begin to
ascend in a similar degree. The line of mains thus
ascends and descends alternately throughout its whole
length. The reason for this arrangement is, that a
small deposition of fluid takes place in the mains; and
this fluid, by flowing down the inclined pipes, accumu-
lates at the lower points, where two descending lines
meet: here a reservoir is formed, into which the liquid
flows, and by the occasional use of a small pump from
above the inconvenience is removed.

Hiow few persons would guess the length of these
underground arteries! How few would suppose that
the mains, proceeding from the Westminster works
alone. and ramifying through the streets at the west
end of the town, would, if laid in a straight line, reach
from London to Bristol; or, if combined with the
‘service-pipes’ which pass from the mains to the
houses, extend from London to Exeter! Yet such is
the case. Rapid as has been the erection of new
houses, the extension of the gas-manufacture has pro-
ceeded with immeasureably greater rapidity. In the
ycar 1814 there was only one gasometer at the West-
minster station of the Chartered Company, then the
only company in London ; and this > ar held only
fourteen thousand cubic feet. y the year 1822,
according to a Report on the various gas-works, pre-
scnted by Sir William Congreve to the Secretary of
State, the Westminster works had reached the follow-
ing position:—“ The whole number of retorts which
were fixed was 300; the greatest number working at
any time 221; the least number 87. Fifteen gaso-
meters, varying in dimensions, the contents computed
at 20,626 cubic feet each, amounting to 309,385 cubic
fect altogether, but never quite filled. The extent of
mains belonging to this station is about 57 miles; the
produce of gas, from 10,000 to 11,000 cubic feet froma
chaldron of coals. The weekly consumption of coals
is reckoned at forty-two bushels for each retort, amount-
ing to about 602 chaldrons; and taking the average
number of retorts worked at this station at 153, would
give an annual consumption of coals of upwards of
§282 chaldrons, producing 111,384,000 cubic feet of

. The average number of lights during the year
1822 was 10,660 private, 2248 street lamps, and 3894
theatre lamps.” In the interval which has elapsed
since this Report was made, great extension has taken

lace in all the operations of the gas-manufacture.
he Westminster station now contains about six hun-
dred retorts; the twenty gasometers have an aggre.

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

[FzBRuary, 1812.

gate capacity of nearly eight hundred thousand cubic
feet ; the length of main-pipes exceeds a hundred and
twenty miles, and of service-pipe fifty miles. The
quantity of gas which leaves the works on a mid-
winter’s day is a million and a quarter cubic fect.
As to the area of ground over which this quantity
is spread, it may be best seen by taking a map of
London, and tracing out a boundary, of which the
northern part shall be Oxford-street, the castern
Temple-bar, the western Grosvenor-place, and the
southern the Thames: the maze of squares, markets,
streets, and lanes included within this bowhdary points
out the scene of operations.

Whether or not we accept the motto used by Mr.
Matthews in his work on Gas-Lighting,—

“ This is an art which doth excel nature.”

there is abundant room for admiration and congratula-
tion in the history and application of this light-giving
agent; and the following statement, from the ‘ Penny
Cyclopsedia,’ shows how extensively the advantages are
now appreciated :—“ Every large town in Great Britain
has long had gas; the smaller towns have followed,
and there is now scarcely a place in the kingdom
without it. The continental nations have slowly ful-
owed our example; Paris for some years, and more
recently the towns of Lyon, Marseille, Bordeaux,
Nantes, Caen, Boulogne, Amiens, and several others,
have adopted it. It is in use in many parts of Germany
and Belgium, and St. Petersburg has a small esta-
blishment which is rapidly increasing under the super-
intendence of a gentleman from one of the London
works. The larger towns in the United States also
burn gas; and even in the remote colony of New South
Wales, the town of Sydney has introduced this valuable
Invention, which we have no doubt will be found there,
as it has been in London, as useful in preventing noc-
turnal outrage as an army of watchmen.”

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THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

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(Brazilian [gdians.—From a Drawing by Rugendas,)

ABORIGINES OF BRAZIL.

Tue discovery of America gave to the physiologist and
the philosopher the opportunity of studying the pe-
culiarities of a race of men whose existence was
unknown before the age of Columbus. Their com-
plexion is of a reddish-copper hue, not unlike cin-
namon ; the forehead low, and the outer angles of the
sb are turned upwards; the eyebrows are high; the
cheek-bones prominent; and the black, long, coarse,
and shining hair does not grow thickly on the head.
The circumstances which connect this race with the
rest of the human family are involved in an obscurity
which renders conjecture even of intense interest. The
recent peopling of the New World is now generally
abandoned as inconsistent with the philosophy otf
known facts. From whence then did this population
spring, possessing as it does certain characteristics
which belong to it alone? In the absence of historical
records and of tradition, conjecture has wandered
without restraint. By one writer it is supposed that
America was peopled from the dispersion of the ls-
raclites; by another, that the Egyptians were the
ancestors of the Mexicans; while a Carthaginian origin
has been given to them by others. Again, the purely
Asiatic origin of the aborigines of America has been
strongly supported. The monuments and remains of
an ancient period, which are to be found in various
parts of North and South America—as the mounds of
earth and fortifications in the valley of the Ohio, now
overgrown with the tallest and oldest forest trees ; the
pyramids of Mexico, and works comparable only to
those of ancient Egypt; the remains and the bas-re-

|
|

vians—were, even on the discovery of America, regarded
by the aboriginal inhabitants as the remains of a much
more ancient people. They are proofs that this ante-
rior race possessed a higher degree of civilization than
now exists, and a melancholy interest is attached to
their decline. Of the causes of their decadence not a
single tradition has been found. We see only the
effects of some catastrophe by which the bonds of the
social state have been snapped, and the population
scattered into the smallest aggregate bodies, consistin

in some cases of a family, that is, of relations by bloo

and marriage, and divided from others by feelings of
hostility and by difference of language. At the same
time, their uniformity of manners, customs, and modes
of living, prove that at one time they have formed part
of a larger body politic. The multiplicity of languages
among the aborigines of America is a most remark-
able feature of their present state. Dr. Von Mar-
tius, in his ‘Travels in Brazil,’ states that “out of
twenty Indians employed as rowers in the boat in
which we navigated the streams of the interior, there
were often not more than three or four who under-
stood any common language. No common voice or
common interest cheered them as they sat beside each
other during a journey of several hundred miles, which
their various fortunes had called them to perform to-

ether.”

‘i Brazil is about sixty times larger than England, and
it would require many years of patient investigation to
discover the affinities and .relative position of the
tribes to be found in this vast territory. Dr. Von Mar-
tius has furnished more than two hundred and fifty
names of nations, hordes, or tribes at present found in

liefs near Guatemala; the works of the ancient Peru-| the country; but some of them belong only to small

No. 63/7.

Digitized by NI’

90 THE PENNY

clans, or even single families. The tribes which con-
sist at most of a few families are chiefly found
south of the river Amazons, where the disruption of
the population has been greatest. Such tribes, clans,
or families possess a very imperfect language, and
live isolated in their native forests. In the central
and southern part of the country there are five power-
ful tribes, whose aggregate number, exceeds sixty
thousand, each tribe varying in number from eight to
eighteen thousand. The Tupis, who were found settled
everywhere on the coast when the Portuguese first
visited Brazil, have now lost their independence, and
consist of two weak tribes; but their former power is
still attested by the number of words of Tupi origin
bpHied to places over a large extent of country. Hum-
boldt estimated the number of the copper-colouted
race in the two Americas at six millions, but the pro-
portion existing in Brazil is not known.

With the exception of the Muras, who are without
houses, and whose wandering habits have gained for
them the appellation of the gypsies of Brazil, all the
tribes practise some sort of agriculture, aud most of
thein rear poultry. Each tribe has its own plantation,
which is cyltivated by the women for the common
benefit ; and certain ideas of common possession pre-
vail with regard to their huts and utensils, which be-
long to the tribe rather than to individuals; scarcely
anything being appropriated as personal property ex-
cept a man’s accoutrements, his weapons, pipe, and
hammock. It is considered unlucky to use the
weapons of another in following game. The hunting-
ground of each tribe is defined by well known bound-
aries. Theft is scarcely known, and accumulation for
the supply of future wants does not enter into their
ideas. Several of the tribes carry on a trade with the
whites. The trade is one of barter, and loans and de-
posits are the only securitics of which they have any
notion,

A good idea of the daily mode of life amongst the
Brazilian tribes is furnished by Dr.Von Martius, in the
following extract froin his ‘ Travels :°—‘* As soon as the
first rays of the sun beam on the hut of the Indian, he
awakes, rises immediately, and goes to the door, where
he generally spends some time in rubbing and stretch-
ing his limbs, and then goes into the woods for a few
minutes, Returning into the hut, he looks for the still
live embers of the fire of the day before, or lights it
afresh by means of two dry sticks, one of which he sets
upon the other, twirling it like a mill till it kindles,
and then he adds dry grass or straw. All the male in-
habitants then take part in the business; some drag
wood out of the forest ; others heap up the fire between
several large stones, and all of them seat themselves
round it in a squatting attitude. Without looking at
or speaking to each other, they often remain for hours
together in this position, solely engaged in keeping in
the fire, or roasting Spanish potatoes, bananas, cars of
maize, &c. in the ashes for breakfast. A tame mon-
key, or some other of their numerous domestic animals
with which they pays serves to amuse them. The first
employment of the women on leaving their hammocks
is to paint themselves and their children, on which
each goes to her particular domestic occupation, strip-
ping the threads from the palm-trees, manufacturin
nets, making earthenware, rubbing mandioca, an
Pe maize, from which they make a coolin

everage. Others go to their little plantation to fetc
maize, mandioca, and beans ; or into the forest to look
for wild fruits and roots. When the men have finished
their frugal breakfast, a repare their bows, arrows,
strings, &c. It is not til the sun is high and the heat
considerable that the Indian delights to bathe himself,
and then goes between nine and ten to the chace, gene-
rally accompanied by his wife. On these occasions he

MAGAZINE. (Marcu 5,
takes the narrow almost imperceptible sri Neer or f0e8
directly across the forest. If the object of his journcy
is distant, he breaks branches of the shrubs as he gocs
along, which he leaves hanging or scatters in the path in
order the more easily to find his way back. When they
have taken some small animals, or one large one, their
hunting is over for that day, and the woman carries
home the game in a bag, which is fastened to her fore-
head by a band. The cooking of the dinner, as well as
keeping in the fire, is the business of the men. Pigs
are singed; other hairy animals are spitted with the
skin and hair on, and put to the fire; birds are shghtly
plucked and then drawn. The body is spitted on sticks,
either whole or in pieces, roasted at the fire, or put
into the pot with water. The Indian prefers roast
meat, especially when very fresh, to boiled. The tapir,
monkeys, pigs, armadilloes, pacas, and agoutis are his
favourite dishes, but he readily eats deer, birds, turtles,
and fish, and in case of need contents himself with ser-
pents, toads, and larve of large insects roasted. They
generally dine after the chace, about four o'clock. The
inhabitants of the hut, or any neighbour or individual
of the same tribe who happens to be present, partakes
of the meal. Every one, without regard to precedency,
pulls off a piece of the meat, and squats down with it, at
a distance from the fire and apart from the rest, either in
a corner of the hut or undera tree. They do not eat
salt, but use as seasoning a berry of the capsicum
species. The wife places a vessel of mandioca flour
near the fire, and each takes a handful of it, which he
dexterously throws into his mouth. When the meal is
over, a member of the family fetches a vessel of water
from the neighbouring brook, out of which every one
drinks at pleasure. The Indian is fond of rocking
himself or sleeping in his hammock immediately after
dinner Besides dinner he has no regular meal, but
eats at times fruit, bananas, water-melons, &c., which
he cultivates.” Thus life passes away without any con-
ception of the moral grandeur and dignity to which
huinan nature under happier auspices is led to aspire.
Drinking feasts, with dancing and singing, diversify
the routine of savage lite in Brazil. At these meetings
the quarrels of one tribe with another are discussed,
hostilities are determined upon, and common hunting
parties fixed.

The huts of the Coroados tribe are also described by
Dr. Von Martius:—“ They were supported by four
corner-posts, twelve or fiftcen feet high, and were froin
thirty to forty feet long. The walls, made of thin laths
connected by wicker-work, and sometimes plastered
with clay, had on both sides openings the height of a
man, with moveable doors of palim-leaves; the roof
was made of palim-leaves and inaize straw; the hut
was closed on the windward side, or, where the sides
were entirely open, the roof extended much farther
and lower down. In every hut there were in different
parts of the floor hearths for the several families re-
siding in it. Some families had huts resembling tents,
made entirely of palm-leaves. There was no other
issue left for the smoke but through the roof and the
doors. Hammocks, made of cotton cords, which at
once supplied the place of tables, beds, and chairs, were
suspended to the posts round the huts about a foot from
the ground. They are the chief article of furniture.
Some earthern pots, baskets made of palm-leaves, filled
with Spanish potatoes, maize, mandioca roots, and other
fruits of the forest, drinking vessels, a hollow trunk
of a tree for pounding maize, constituted the whole of
their household furniture. The arms of the men, bows
and arrows, lean against the walls.”

Sixty or seventy years ago it was the fashion to ad-
mire the sort of life which the Indian leads in his native
forest ; and if a listless state of existence under a fine
climate were the summum bonum of life, the condition

1842.]

of the uncivilized aborigines of Brazil might be envied ;
but in such a state the human mind becomes incapable
of attaining the enjoyment for which it is destined. The
noblest faculties are directed to no higher object than
the pursuit of wild animals or the stratagems of war;
and even the pleasures of the senses are blunted. The
works of the creation which surround them in the
splendid solitudes of the NewWorld awaken noadmira-
tion, and their minds are too infantile té be capable of
looking beyond the range of their daily wants. In
connection with this obtuseness and apathy, which ad-
mits neither of mental pleasures nor any but the coldest
attachments of domestic life, we find the practice of
cannibalism existing among some tribes, and this in
one of the most luxuriant regions of the world; in-
fanticide is still more common; and many tribes put
the aged and infirm to death. Dr. Von Martius states
that the Guaicuru women never rear any children be-
fore their thirtieth year; the Guanas often bury their
female children alive, and even the mothers expose
their new-born infants; and parental affection 1s a
thing unknown on the father’s side. The law of reta-
liation involves the whole population in a constant
state of animosity and warfare. The aborigines of
Brazil are without any systematic form of superstition,
and the Pajés, who are priests, doctors, and conjurors,
and form a distinct class, exercise a capricious and
tyrannical fore over them, from which there is no
escape ; and not unfrequently they cause the lives of
individuals to be sacrificed to their malevolence or to
sustain their imposture.

IMPORTANCE OF CHEMICAL
MANUFACTURES.

{From Dr. Gregory’s ‘ Letter to the Earl of Aberdeen on the State of the
Schouls of Chemistry in the United Kingdom.’}

Tre first great stimulus to the improvement of the
manufacture of sulphuric acid was given by the an-
nouncement of a prize of 1,000,000 francs (40,000/.),
offered by the Emperor Napoleon for the discovery of
a siinple and cheap process for extracting soda from
sea salt. Soda, as is well known, has been used, from
lime immemorial, for the manufacture of soap and
glass, two products of the highest value to mankind.
Indeed the use of soap is so cssential to comfort, that
the quantity of soap consumed by any people may be
viewed as a direct measure of the degree of civilization
and happiness they enjoy. Its use depends on the
feclings of comfort, ney, on the sense of the beautiful,
which are inseparable froin cleanliness, Where these
feelings prevail, there, we may be sure, civilization
and happiness are to be found, The princes, counts,
and barons, the rich and powerful in the middle ages,
who concealed with costly spices and odours the offen-
sive exhalations of their skin and of their clothes, which
rarcly came into contact with soap, indulged, it is true,
in greater luxury in their sumptuous feasis and splen-
did dresses than their descendants in modern times.
But how vast is the difference between their days and
ours, in which personal filth has come to be synony-
mous with absolute misery!

It is to glass, again, that the poor man owes the in-
esuimable blessing of the free admission of light to his
dwelling, even in the coldest climate. It is not easy
to exaggerate the valuc of these two products, soap
and glass, to mankind. During the war, France was
deprived of her accustomed supply of barilla (the
usual source of soda) and of soap from Spain, the ports
of both countries being watched by the British fleet.
The high price of soda, soap, and glass, consequent on
this state of matters, led to the offer of the prize above
mentioned; and the problem was solved by the French
chemist Leblanc, who furnished a cheap and simple
process fur extracting soda from sea salt. France soon

SCIENCE-IN

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

supplicd herself at a cheaper rate than before; manu-
factories of soda, soap, and glass arose and flourished,
and the bitter feelings excited among the Spaniards by
the permanent loss of a lucrative trade were not with
out their influence in bringing the Peninsular war to
a fortunate conclusion, and in hurling Napoleon from
the imperial throne.

Such were the immediate results of Leblanc’s dis-
covery; but it is painful to add, that he never received
the reward he had so well deserved. ‘The Restoration
occurred in the interval; the new government had
more pressing debts to discharge ; and it is understood
that the claim has now been shut out by prescription
Let us now consider the nature of Leblanc’s process.

To convert salt into soda, the first step, according to
this process, which is now, with some modifications,
uniformly followed, is to convert the salt into sulphate
of soda. This can only be done by means of sulphuric
acid, of which 80 lbs. are required for 100 lbs. of salt.
Hence, one of the first effects of Leblanc’s discove
was to create a very lairge demand for sulphuric acid.
It is obvious that as soon as the government, by re-
ducing the duty on salt, reduced its price to a mini-
mum, the price of soda became dependent on that of
sulphuric acid. This circumstance, together with the
extensive demand, and the large profits realized by the
makers of sulphuric acid, turned the attention of men
of science to the improvement of this latter manufac-
ture; and every year produced some new amelioration,
while the price of the acid steadily fell, and the de-
mand for it as steadily increased. Its formation was
studied by the most accomplished chemists, and brought
by degrees to its present nearly perfect state.

Sulphuric acid is made in vessels, or rather cham.
bers, of lead, and so large is the scale of operations in
some manufactories, that one of these chambers would
contain with ease a middle-sized house of two stories.
So nearly does practice in these great manufactorics
approach to theory, that 100]bs. of sulphur, which by
theory should yield 3061bs. of sulphuric acid, do ac-
tually yield 3C0 lbs.

In this manufacture, the price of the product de-
pends partly on the apparatus, partly on the price of
the materials, sulphur and saltpetre; and in both a
great reduction has been effected. Till lately, the
plates of lead, of which the chambers are formed, were
soldered together with difficulty, by means of lead, no
other solder being able to withstand the action of the
acid, The opcration of soldering cost nearly as much
as the plates themselves; but now that the oxy-hydro-
gen blowpipe is used for the purpose, the expense is a
inere trifle, while the operation 1s so easy, that a child
may perform it. Again, the acid was formerly con-
centrated in enormous glass retorts; these were ex-
posed to bugakage, occasioning heavy loss, and destroy-
ing the furnaces; vessels of platinum are now used for
concentrating the acid, and although these sometimes
cost from 10002. to 15002. a-piece, they are found, from
their durability, to be a source of economy, and have
materially. contributed to bring about the very low
price of the acid: moreover, it is the demand for pla-
tinum for such vessels that alone renders profitable the
working of the Russian mines of that metal. We may
see by this, how every aco acts in many different
ways, and always advantageous y:

When economy had been pushed thus far in the ap-
paratus, the price of the materials became a point of
more importance than previously ; that of nitre was so
high as to stimulate the manufacturer to search for
some substitute, which was speedily found in the nitrate
of soda, enormous beds of which cover whole plains in
South America. This salt is much cheaper than salt-
petre, and preferable to it for the manufacture both of
nitric acid and of sulphuric acid; but eg direct

effect of cheapenng these acids, the introduction of
nitrate of soda, by limiting the use of saltpetre to the
inaking of gunpowder, for which nitrate of soda does
not answer, has produced the indirect effect of chea
ening gunpowder, the pic of saltpetre necessarily
falling as the demand for it diminished. This must
be, in time, a material source of saving to govern-
inents,

Finally, with regard to the chief material, sulphur,
on which the price of sulphuric acid now principally
depends, it is well known that our manufacturers de-
rive nearly their whole supply from Sicily, so that
Naples may be said to possess a monopoly of that ar-
ticle. That the trade in sulphur is highly important
to both nations is obvious, when we reflect on the enor-
mous quantities of sulphuric acid now manufactured
in Britain alone. A small manufactory will produce
from 250 to 300 tons annually; a large one, 3000 tons
or more: it is no wonder then that the late interrup-
tion to the trade in sulphur caused great uneasiness
ainong our manufacturers; but”it had another effect—
the attention of chemists was keenly directed to other
means of procuring sulphur, and, during the period of
obstruction to the sulphur trade, it is said that no less
than fifteen epi were taken out in England for
recovering the sulphur from the sulphuric acid used
in the soda manufacture. The restoration of the trade
to its accustomed channel has postponed the accom-
plishment of this object; but the impulse has been
given, and Naples ue ere long fin
regret that she ever allowed any obstruction to the
trade in sulphur. We have whole mountains of gyp-
sum and heavy spar, and abundance of pyrites and
galena, all of them minerals containing sulphur, which
we shall one day find the means of extracting econo-
mically; indeed, during the period above alluded to,
many tons of sulphuric acid were actually made from
iron pyrites. When we consider the resources of mo-
dern chemistry, it will not appear improbable that, if
the sulphur trade had been obstructed for a year
longer, it might by this time have been lost to Naples
for ever,

These considerations are of themselves sufficient to
show that the manufacture of sulphuric acid has be-
come a matter of national importance, were it only on
account of its use in making soda; that alkali is now
sold in a state of perfect purity, and at a wonderful low
price, so low indeed as almost to have put an end to
the use of potash. The quality of glass and soap has
been very much improved, and their price greatly
diminished ; the consumption of both articles has na-
turally increased in a corresponding ratio. Wood
ashes, no longer in demand to nearly the same extent
as formerly for manufactures, must also fall in price,
and will soon be employed as one of the mest powerful
manures for our wheat-fields.

Such are a few of the bearings of the manufacture of
sulphuric acid, called into existence, or at least vitally
improved, by the demand for cheap soda: but this is
not all; and although it is impossible here to follow
out all the ramifications of this remarkable branch of
industry, I cannot refrain from pointing out one or
two of its immediate results, which have not yet been
adverted to.

It has already been mentioned that sea-salt, in order
to yield soda, must first be converted into sulphate of
soda ; now, in acting on the salt for this purpose with
sulphuric acid, an enormous quantity of muriatic acid
is produced, which, in the earlier periods of the manu-
iacture of soda from salt, was thrown away as worth-
less, 80 great were the profits realized on the soda;
but muriatic acid contains chlorine, and no other com-
pound of chlorine yields that body more easily or more
cheaply than muriatic acid. The bleaching properties

good cause to

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

[Marca 5,

of chlorine were known, but nad not yet been applied
on the great scale. At first the chlorine was disen-
gaged directly from the muriatic acid, and brought in
contact with the cloth to be bleached, in the form of
gas; but it was soon found that, by combining the
chlorine with lime, it might be obtained in a solid form
(bleaching-powder), capable of transportation to any
distance ; hence arose a new and lucrative manufac-
ture, of such importance, that it may safely be asserted
that but for the discovery of the bleaching-powdcr the
cotton manufactures of Britain would never have
attained their present development: nay more, had
the British manufacturers been tied down to the old
method of bleaching, they could not long have com-
peted in the price of cottons with France or Germany

To bleach in the old style, the first requisite is land,
and that good and well exposed meadow-land. The
cloth must be exposed for several weeks, and that only
during summer, to sun and air, and must besides be
constantly watered by hand. Now a single manufac-
tory of moderate size near Glasgow bleaches, on the
new system, on an average, 1400 pieces of cloth daily
throughout the year. Let us only consider what an
amount of capital would be required merely to rent the
land necessary for bleaching in the old manner this
enormous quantity of cloth, in the vicinity of a large
city. Let us reflect on the time and labour that would
be indispensable, and we shall soon perceive that, with
such burdens, the British manufacturer could not com-
pete with his rivals on the Continent, where vast tracts
of fine meadow-land might be had, distant from any
great city, at a far cheaper rate, and in a more sunny
climate. The superiority of our machinery would
thus be in a great measure neutralised, were it not for
the manufacture of bleaching-powder, which in its turn
depends on those of sulphuric acid and of soda. 1
need not do more than allude to the use of the bleach-
ing-powder in eee which is one great cause
of the superior quality and low price of paper in
Britain. ns

Another important use to which the muriatic acid
produced in the soda manufacture, and formerly
thrown away, is now applicd, is that of preparing cheap
and superior glue from bones. Bones consist of bone-
earth and glue; the former is readily dissolved by
diluted muriatic acid, while the latter is left, and has
only to be dissolved in warm water to be ready for use.
The acid solution of the bone-earth, on the other hand,
promises to be an admirable form of using that earth
as manure. Professor Liebig, in his late valuable
work on Agricultural Chemistrv, has recommended
this application. At present the solution in question
is thrown away as useless in the glue manufactories.

The last application of sulphuric acid which I shall
here mention is a very recent one, and owes }ts origi
to one of the most scientific chemists of the day, M.
Gay-Lussac. It consists in its employment in the re-
fining or purification of silver. .

Silver, as it comes from the mines, is alloyed with
one-half, or rather more, of copper. It also contains
a sinall quantity of gold. It must be refined—that is,
purified; and the pure or fine silver is then alloyed
with the due amount of copper to form the standard
silver.

Raw silver was formerly refined by cupellation, a
process which cost about 35s. for 50 bs. of silver. The
gold contained in the silver would not repay the ex-
pense of extracting it, and was therefore allowed to
remain, and tocirculate in the silver, absolutely worth-
less. But by means of sulphuric acid, cupellation 1s
avoided; the silver is refined at a most trifling cost,
and the gold js obtained by the same operation: nay,
even the copper, which was formerly lost, 1s now Aas
served; and although the gold only amounts to from

1842. |

sdnth to ys4gth of the weight of the ail¥er, yet as its value
is about 14 per cent. of that of the silver, it not only
repays the whole expense of refining, but leaves a
clear profit to the refiners. This beautiful application
of chemistry has given rise to the singular and appa-
rently anomalous result, that the seller of raw silver
receives from the mint the exact quantity of pure sil-

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THE CUSTOM-HOUSE.

Att the Western nations ed to have inherited from
the Romans the practice of exacting certain payments
on the landing and embarkation of merchandise at each
seaport, and the name of customs, or of some equivalent
Jerm, shows that these payments were sanctioned by
immemorial usage. These exactions aided the sove-
reign in his necessities, and induced him to encourage
the commerce of his subjects. Rather more than a
century afterwards Ethelred II. (a.p. 978-1016), in a
council held at Wantage in Berkshire, fixed the toll or
custom on ships and merchandise arriving at Billings-
gate, which at that time appears to have been the
principal landing-place in the port of London. It was
declared that every smaller boat should pay one half-
penny; a large boat with sails, one penny; a keel (a
ship, we suppose), four pennies ; a vessel with wood, to
give one piece of wood ; a boat with fish coming to the
bridge, one halfpenny or one penny, according to its
size. After the Conquest customs were exacted not
only by the king, but, at the outports, by the lord under
whose protection the town was.

In 1559, in the first year of the reign of Elizabeth,
steps were taken which may be said to have been the
commencement of the present system of collecting the
customs in London. It was ordered that “all creeks,
wharfs, keys, lading and discharging places in Graves-
end, Woolwich, Barking, Greenwich, Deptford, Black-
wall, Limehouse, Ratcliffe, Wapping, St. Katherine's,
Tower Hill, Rotherhithe, Southwark, London Bridge,

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

ver which his alloy, on being tested, is found to contain,
and likewise the whole amount of the copper present
in the alloy, thus apparently paying at for the
process of refining. The refiner is paid by the gold,
which he retains, and which was formerly lost to every
one. The saving effected by this improvement to the
French mint is stated to have been enormous.

and every of them . . shall be froin henceforth
no more used as lading or discharging places for mer-
chandises, but be utterly debarred and abolished from
the same for ever.” For “ the better answering of the
revenues of the queen,” twenty quays and wharfs were
appointed within the port of London, where alone mer-
chandise and produce could be aD P es or landed.
Some were for all manner of merchandise; others for
wine and oils; one for corn only; and Billingsgate
was for fish, corn, salt, victuals, and fruit, but gro-
ceries were excepted. The owners of these twenty
uays were required to give security that no goods
should be laid on or shipped from their wharfs until
the queen’s duties were paid, and that all ships were
laden and unladen in the presence of the proper officers.
The first three quays on the list are Old Wool Quay,
New Wool Quay, and Galley Quay. Wool Wharf, or
Customers’ Quay, is applied by Stow to, one landing-
place, which, he says, ‘is now of late most beautifully
enlarged and built.” The quays appointed as above
are still known as the legal wharfs. They are all be-
tween the Tower and London Bridge. As the com-
merce of London increased, others were appointed,
called ‘ SufferanceWharfs,’ of which five were east of the
Tower and eightcen on the Surrey side of the river.
The London Custom-house establishment of 1559
consisted of eight principal officers, each of whom had
from two to six others under him, but the principal
‘Waiter’ had sixteen subordinates. Until 1590 the
duties were farmed for 20,000/. a year, but on the
Queen’s government taking the collection of the duties

in its own hand, they yielded about 30,0002. a year. The
control of the government necessarily led to many
improvements in the Customs establishment. The
formation of the East India and other great trading
companies during the latter half of the sixteenth cen-
tury, and the growth of colonial commerce, augmented
the trade of London and rendered the Customs a much
more profitable source of revenue than they had yet
been. From 1671 to 1688, according to D’Avenant,
the first inspector-general of imports and exports, the
customs of England averaged 555,752. a year.

The old Custom-house, destroyed during the Great
Fire, was 1eplaced by one of rather more pretensions,
which is said to have cost 10,0002, and was at least of
wore dignified appearance than the adjoining ware-
houses. In the fifty years after its erection the trade of
the country had greatly increased, and from 1700 to
1714 the customs for England averaged 1,352,764.
cach year. In 1718 the Custom-house was burnt
down, doubtless not before it had been found very in-
convenient for the transaction of the increased mass of
business which had arisen out of a more wide and
active cominerce.

A new Custom-house soon arose on the site of the
old building, in which the inconveniences formerly
experienced were for a time remedied. The apart-
ments for the different officers were better arranged,
and accommodation was provided for a greater number
of clerks, so that the delays of which the merchants had
before complained were obviated. The length of the
building was one hundred and eighty-nine feet, and
the centre was twenty-nine feet deep. The edifice was
constructed of brick and stone, and the wings had a
passage colonnade of the Tuscan order tuwards the
river, the upper story being relieved with Ionic pilas-
ters and pediments. But the most striking feature of
the building was the ‘ Long Room,’ extenJing nearly
the whole Iength of the centre, being one hundred and
twenty-seven feet long, twenty-nine wide, and twenty-
four high. At the close of the century the revenue
collected in the port of London exceeded 6,000,0000.
On the J2th of February, 1814, this was also destroyed
by fire, being the third Custoin-house whose destruc-
tion was caused by thiselement. The flames spread to
the houses on the northern side of Thames Street, and
in a short tine ten were destroyed. Besides the loss
of valuable property in the cellars and warchouses, the
destruction of documents and papers was also to be re-
gretted. The inconvenience to the shipping and mer-
cantile interests was of course very great. Ships which
were ready for sailing were delayed for want of the
necessary papers, and the delivery of goods for home
consumption and exportation, and tle discharge of
cargoes, were suspended. The fire occurred on Satur-
day, and by Monday morning temporary arrangements
were inade for conducting the public business in the
Commercial Sale Rooms, Mincing Lance.

Several years before the occurrence of this fire the
enlargement of the old Custom-house had been con-
templated, and it wasat first proposed to build an addi-
tional wing, but, on a survey of the edifice, it was
found too much decayed and dilapidated to warrant a
large expenditure in its renovation and extension. The
Lords of the Treasury therefore directed designs and
estiinates to be prepared for an entirely new structure ;
and those by Mr. Laing were finally selected. Between
the old Custom-house and Billingsgate there were
eight quays, measuring four hundred and seventy-nine
feet in length; but the site now fixed upon was Imme-
diatcly east of Billingsgate Dock, with only the inter-
vention of the landing-stairs. The estimates of the
new building were by public tender, and one for
165,000/., exclusive of the formation of the foundation-
ground and sume other contingencies, was accepted.

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

[Marcu 5,

The owners of private property whose interests were
invaded by the adoption of a fresh site demanded in
the aggregate a sum of 84,478/., and by amicable
arrangements and the finding of juries they were paid
41,7003. The old materials were sold for 12,4000.

It became, of course, an object of the first consi-
deration to ascertain the nature of the substratum on
which so large a pile was to be raised. Mr. Laing de-
scribes the character of the ground :—“ Rising from the
level of the river to the south side of Thames Street,
the whole of the extent was discovered to have been
formerly a part of the bed of the Thames. Quan-
tities of rushes were found mixed with chrysalids of
water-insects; mussel-shells were found in different
stages of decomposition; those lying at the south-east
corner of the quay presented a greenish hue, inclining
to the colour of verdigris, while those which were
brought up from the depth of seventeen feet below the
surface of Thames Street were nearly reduced to earth.
It deserves remark,” observes Mr. Laing, “ that on this
occasion three distinct lines of wooden embankments
were found at the several distances of fifty-eight,
eighty-six, and one hundred and three feet within the
range of the existing wharfs; and about fifty feet from
the campshot, or under-edge of the wharf wall, a wall
was discovered running east and west; it was built
with chalk and rubble, and faced with Purbeck stone.
This wall was supposed to be either part of the ancient
defences of the city of London, or of some outwork,
bastion, or barbican extending westward from the
Tower.” It was so strongly built, that even with iron
wedges it was not broken without great difficulty; but
it was necessary to effect this in order to form a sound
foundation. The river, then, in ancient times had been
repeatedly contracted in this place.

he preliminary difficulties having been overcome,
the first stone of the new building was laid at the
south-west corner by Lord Liverpool, then first lord
of the treasury, on the 25th of October, 1813, and it
was opened for business on the 12th of May, 1817.
The northern elevation, fronting Thames Strect, was
plain and simple, but the south front, towards the
river, assumed a more ornamental character. the cen-
tral compartment projecting forward, and the wings
having a hexastyle detached colonnade of the Jonic
order. The attic of the central part of the building,
comprising the exterior of the Long Room, was decu-
rated with alte and basso relievos, in panels five feet
three inches im height, representing in a serics of alle-
gorical figures the arts and sciences, commerce and
industry, and characteristic figures of the principal
nations with which Great Britain holds commercial
intercourse. The dial-plate, nine feet in diameter, was
supported by colossal figures of industry and plenty,
and the oye arms were sustained by figures of ocean
and commerce. The long room was one hundred and
ninety-six fect by sixty-six. Unfortunately the foun
dation of the edifice gave way, notwithstanding the
pains which had been taken to render it secure. In
the Report of a parliamentary committce, in 1528, on
the duties connected with the office of Works and Pub-
lic Buildings, the failure of the building is somewhat
harshly noticed. at is said that “the fraudulent and
scandalous manner in which the foundation of the New
Custom-house was laid, occasioned, by its total failure
in 1825, a charge of no less than 170,000/. to 180,0002.,
in addition to the original expenditure of 255,0002.”
The total cost of the cdilice has therefore amounted
altogether to nearly halfa million sterling. The Long
Room and the central part of the building were taken
down and the foundations relaid, but the other parts
remain as built by Mr. Laing. ‘The figures just de-
scribed, which decorated the principal front, were re-
moved; but though there is greater plainness, the

1842.] THE PENNY
simplicity 1s pleasing, 1f not majestic. As the breadth
of the quay is not ee to the height of the building,
it is not seen to advantage from that point, but the
bridge or the middle of the river affords a better view.
The river front is four hundred and eighty-cight feet
in length, or ninety feet longer than the Post-office, and
exceeding by thirty feet the National Gallery.

At the present time nearly one-half of the customs
of the United Kingdom are collected in the port of Lon-
don; and five or six years ago the proportion exceeded
one-half. Not only is the immense business of its own

ort conducted at the London Cusiom-house, but the
oard of commissioners which sits there has all the
out-ports in the United Kingdom under its superin-
tendence. From them it receives reports, and instruc-
tions from this central board are issued to them in re-
turn. The Custom-house is one of the oldest sources
of statistical information; and under the inspector-
gencral of imports and exports, clerks are continually
engaged in recording the facts and figures which illus-
trate the commercial movement of the country, the
result of their labours being frequently printed and
made public by order of Parliament.
- Besides the warehouses and ccllars, there are about
one hundred and seventy distinct apartments in the
Custom-house, in which the officers of cach department
transact their business. The object to be accomplished
by the architect, and which, as he tells us, he kept con-
stantly in view, was a judicious classification and com-
bination of offices and departments so as to ensure
contiguity and convenience, and at the same time to
present such accommodation as was demanded by the
peculiar purposes for which cach was required. All
the rooms are perfectly plain, with the exception of the
Board-room, which is slightly decorated, and contains
aa of George III. and George IV., the latter by
ir Thomas Lawrence. The Long Room is of course
the principal object of interest, being probably the
largest apartment in Europe of the kind. The length
is one hundred and ninety feet, width sixty-six feet, and
height between forty and fifty fect. It is not a gallery
where the eye embraces at once the whole width and
length, but here, as the architect has pointed out, the
eye cannot take in both the length and width at the
same time, and consequently is at fault as to the com-
arative dimensions, The present room is not so
andsome as the one taken down after the failure of
the foundation. The walls and ceiling are tinted to
resemble stone, and the floor is of wood. The room is
warmed by three very handsome stoves on Dr. Arnot's
principle. The cellars in the basement form a groined
crypt or undercroft, built in the most substantial man-
ner, and fire-proof; the walls are of extraordinary
thickness; and a temperature is constantly maintained
which is most suitable for wines and spirits, those which
are seized by the officers of the Custom-house being
kept here. The king's warehouse is on the ground-
floor, and of great extent, and with its diagonal-ribbed
arches presents a fine appearance in the interior. The
ublic entrance to the Custom-house is on the northern
ront, and leads to a double flight of steps. On the
southern side there is an entrance for the officers and
clerks from the quay and river.

The number of officers and clerks for whom accom-
modation is provided in the Custom-house is about
three hundred, and there are as many more whose
business is chiefly out of doors, and who are in daily
communication with the establishment.

The business of the in-door department of the Cus-
tom-house, so far as relates to the importation and ex-
portation of goods, is all transacted in the Long Room.
The officers and clerks of the Long Room, about eighty
in nuinber, may be said to form three divisions :—The
inward department, with its collector, clerks of rates,

MAGAZINE. 95

clerks of ships’ entries, computers of duties, receivers
of plantation duties, wine duties, &c. ; the outward de-
partment, with its cocket writers, &c.; and the coast
department. An officer of the Trinity-house is accom-
modated in the Long Itoom witha deck and counter for
the more convenient collection of lighthouse dues.
The class of persons to be seen in the Long Room are
shipbrokers and shipowners, and their clerks, who re-
port arrivals and obtain clearances ; the skippers them-
selves are frequently seen for the same object; and
wholesale merchants, who have goods to import or ex-
port, to place in bond or to re-export. The officers of
the room occupy a space extending along each of
the four sides, within which they have their desks. On
the whole, it is a place which every person should visit
at least once in their lives. .

THE TRAVELS OF NICANDER NUCIUS.

Tue Camden Society has lately published a curious
work entitled ‘The Travels of Nicander Nucius of
Corcyra, printed from a Greek MS. supposed to have
been written about the middle of the sixteenth century,
and preserved in the Bodleian Library, to which is added
an English translation and copious notes, under the
superintendence of the Rev. J. A. Cramer, of Oxford.
The Ambrosian Library at Milan possesses a fuller
and more perfect copy of this work, but as Mr. Cramer
was unable to obtain a transcript of it, he was obliged
to have the translation taken from the Oxford MS. in
its mutilated state. Of Nicander Nucius no other in-
formation can be gathered than what he himself fur-
nishes in his ‘ First Book of Travels.’ It appears that
whilst he was residing at Venice, there arrived an
embassy from the emperor Charles V. to the court of
the sultan Solyman. Nicander being acquainted with
the ambassador, Gerardus Veltuyckus, or Veltwick, a
man of great learning and acquirements, proffered
him his services during his journey to Constantinople,
which were accepted. On the return of the ambas-
sador from Turkey, Nicander accompanied him on
various embassies through many of the countries ot
Europe, which he describes in his ‘First Book of
Travels.’ The Sccond Book is devoted to an account
of his sojourn in England, to which place he went
with Gerardus on a mission from the emperor to
Henry VIII. After describing a stormy and perilous
voyage from Calais to Dover, our author goes on to
say: ‘And although a side-wind fell on us, yet how-
ever, towards sunset, we reached the promontory of
the island, and came to land im the harbour of Dover.
Here is built a small town, full ot inns, and a certain
fort stands erected for the protection of the harbour.
Having therefore disembarked, and tarried one day in
the inns, on the morrow, horses having been prepared
for us, we mounted and proceeded on our journey fo
the king, and arrived in Greenwich, a village in the
neighbourhood of London, the capital of England.
Whereupon, having been presented to the king, who
was at this time residing in his palace, Gerardus, the
ambassador, laid before him the instructions he had
received from the emperor; to which the king having
both graciously acceded, and appointed for us suitable
lodgings and accommodations, he himself returned to
London. And we, continuing still in Greenwich, on
the fifth day removed to London. And having apart-
ments somewhere near the royal palace, we awaited
the king's final despatch of the affairs laid before him.
Being then thus circumstanced, in order that I might
not seem to have wasted the opportunity inconside-
rately and idly, it appeared good to me to investigate
the peculiarities of the island, and to ascertain, as far
as lay in my power, the things appertaining to It.

- The island itself, then, is said to be the greatest of

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

[Marca 5,

those in the world, except Taprobane and Thule, by | And they ete a peculiar language, differing in some
r

those who have formerly examined such matters, and | measure

to be triangular in shape. And that side which in-
clines towards the west and Spain measures seven
hundred miles; and that towards the south and the
Opposite coast of France, which also is called Kent,
extends five hundred miles; and that towards the
north and Germany is estimated to be eight hundred
miles. And on the coast it has several cities of note,
and forts, and towns; and amongst the cities indeed
which are conspicuous and celebrated, are Antonia
and Bristol, Danebium and Dartenicum, and London,
which surpasses these ; and the palaces which are in it
in beauty and magnitude excel the others ; and a river
flows through it, both great and navigable, having a
very rapid current, for six hours flowing downwards,
and again rising for six hours. .... And a certain
very large bridge is built, affording a passage to those
in the city to the opposite inhabited bank, supported by
stone cemented arches, and having also houses and tur-
rets upon it. And one may see Sh dba and small
barks, which are rowed with speed, plying in great
numbers on the banks, for the accommodation of the city.
But merchants’ ships, which arrive in London from every
country, ascend by the river to the city, and import
wine and oil, and other articles of subsistence.

“ And throughout the city a large number of man-
sions are built for the residence of the nobles and
merchants, and lofty halls ornamented with florid
paintings, are erected. Also in some parts of the cit
very large royal palaces, ornamented in a very hig
degree, and luxuriously furnished, and encircled by
gardens and parks, are pre-eminent. And the whole
city is paved with flint stones. And a certain castle,
bearing the semblance of a citadel, very beautiful and
strong, is built very near the river, having very many
and large guns. ere the treasures and valuable pro-
perty are deposited. For they are said to exceed the
antiently famed wealth of Croesus and Midas, so vast
a quantity of gold and silver is treasured up there.
And near to Greenwich they possess an arsenal with
dock-yards, where they bail ships, it being close to
the river. And in this city there dwell men from most
of the nations of Europe, employed in various mer-

cantile arts, such especially as regard the working of’

iron and other metals; added to which they execute
with surprising skill the weaving of woollen cloths and
richly embroidered tapestry.

“ Almost all indeed, except the nobles and those in
attendance on the royal person, pursue mercantile con-
cerns, And not only does this appertain to men, but it
devolves in a very great extent upon women also. And
to this they are wonderfully addicted. And one may
sce in the markets and streets of the city married
women and damscels employed in arts, and barterings
and aflairs of trade undisguisedly. But they employ
great simplicity and absence of jealousy in their usages
towards females. For not only do those who are of the
same family and houschold kiss them on the mouth
with salutations and embraces, but even those too who
have never seen them; and to themselves this appears
by no means indecent.

‘‘ And London, in temples and _ public edifices, and
baths, surpasses all the cities of England. And some-
where about the middle of the city a certain place is sct
apart, where there is daily an assemblage of merchants,
on which there arise very extensive barterings and

raffic.

HJaving given an account of our exports and imports,
and the manner of transacting business with bills of
exchange, Nicander tells us that “The city is in the
highest degree well regulated, under the king and the
other authorities, by regal and private laws. Where-
fore also they pay to their king the greatest obedience.

om all others, having received contributions
from almost all the rest, both in words and syllables,
as [ conjecture. For although they speak somewhat
barbarously, yet their language has a certain charm
and allurement, being sweeter indeed than that of the
Germans and Flemish. As regards their manners and
mode of living, ornaments, and garments, and vest-
ments, they resemble the French more than others, and
for the most part they use their language. And in
feasts and drinkings, and in pubes of health and
carousals, they differ in nothing from the French,
And their nobles and rulers, and those in authority,
are replete with benevolence and good order, and are
courteous to strangers. But the rabble and the mob
are as it were turbulent and barbarous in their manner,
as I have observed from experience and intercourse.
And towards the Germans and Flemish and Italians,
and the Spanish also, they are friendly disposed; but
towards the French they entertain not one kindly sen-
timent of good will; but from some natural disposition,
being very hostilely disposed, they are animated to-
wards them with private and public feelings of enmity.
Hence, too, some few only of the French merchants
reside in the island, both because their oe fre-
quently without proclamation, wage on each other no
trivial war, and it being doubtful if their residence
shall be safe; wherefore indeed the French rarely
dwell in London.

“The king seldom takes up his abode in the cities
of note, but near smaller towns and other places, where
palaces stand for the reception of himself and the
grandces of his court; and in these he passes the
greatest part of his time. And the whole body of life-
guards, and all his retinue, and the whole suite of
grandees, and chief of the privy council, he always
lodges in the court; changing these daily, as is expe-
dient, and receiving others of like stations, for the ad-
ministration of affairs pertaining to his government.
And in London he appoinis those called prefects, and
administrators, who manage the affairs of the city. No
sentence, however, inflicting capital punishment or
loss of limbs, do they execute without the king’s
sanction. And his consort and children he provides
for-in the royal court. And he has spearmen and
targetecrs, bearing the badge of royalty, both on the
breast in front and on the back, both halberdmen and
swordmen. And they use bucklers and Italian swords,
so that they are able, resting the former on the ground,
to discharge arrows.

“ The race of men indeed is fair, inclining to a light
colour; in their persons they are tall and erect; the
hair of their beard and head is of a golden hue; their
eyes blue, for the most part, and their cheeks are
ruddy: they are martial and valorous, and generall
tall; flesh-eaters, and insatiable of animal food; sottish
and unrestrained in their appetites; full of suspicion.
But towards their king they are wonderfully well
affected ; nor would any one of them endure hearing
anything disrespectful of the.king, through the honour
they bear him; so that the most tee cpa which is
taken by them is that by which ‘the king's life’ has
been pledged.”

Nicander gives a somewhat lengthy, though not very
correct account of King Henry and his wives; and
also of the hostilities between Francis I. and Henry.
He descants largely on ecclesiastical affairs, and relates
some interesting particulars respecting the suppres-
sion of monasterics; but our space will not permit us
to make any further extracts from the ‘ Travels’ of our
quaint Corcyrean. We can give no explanation of
what English cities he means by Antonia, Danebium,
and Dartenicum.

1842.]

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

{The Plane Tree.—P.atanus Orventalts. ,

THE PLANE TREE.

As an English tree there is nothing in the history of
the plane which can interest the imagination. No
legendary tale has ever hallowed it as an object of
veneration or regard, and no memories of old times
cling around it. Its name excites no more emotion
among the t majority of persons than that of the
last horticultural novelty. If we follow to their native
homes the two species of plane which are known in
England, we shall in one case be led from the shores
of Greece and the Levant, through Asia Minor and
Persia ; and, in the other, to the New World, over an
immense tract; comprising the Atlantic and Western
States of North America, and the country west of the
Mississippi, as far south even as Mexico, and northward
as far as Canada. The former species is known as the
Oriental Plane (Platanus Ortentalis), and the latter as
the Occidental Plane (Platanus Occidentalis). The
Oriental Plane was introduced into England about the
middle of the sixteenth century. Turner, who pub-
lished a ‘ Herbal’ between 1541 and 1568, had seen
two very young trees, which he considers “‘ were either
brought out of Italy, or of some far country beyond
Italy, whereunto the friars, monks, and canons went a
pilgrimage.” The American Plane was introduced into
the garden of Mr. John Tradescant at Chelsea about
the year 1630; and it is this species which hitherto has
been most generally propagated in England, though

No. 038.

tne late frosts of spring prove highly injurious to it,
blighting the P koa buds, and giving a ragged appear-
ance to the foliage. In its native soil, especially in
warm and moist situations on the banks of the Ohio, it
is one of the most magnificent trees of the forest.
Michaux gives the dimensions of a specimen on an
island in the Ohio, which at five feet from the ground
measured forty feet four inches in circumference.
There are fine trees of both species in the grounds at
Lambeth Palace, in the Botanic Garden at Chelsea,
and at Mount Grove, Hampstead, varying in height
from seventy to ninety feet and upwards; and they are
to be seen in many of the squares in London, but these
are said to be chiefly the Western species. There are
few old plane-trees in England, but one existing
at Lee Court, in Kent, was mentioned by Evelyr:
in 1683. Some of the largest Occidental planes were
killed by a severe frost in May, 1809, while the
smaller ones were scarcely injured.

The plane may easily be distinguished by the singu-
lar appearance of the trunk, the old bark being thrown
off in irregular portions, in consequence, as Dr. Lind-
ley states, of its rigidity, by which it is prevented from
stretching as the tree increases in diameter. The bark
scales off to a less extent in the Oriental Plane than
in the other species. They are also distinguished from
each other by the form of the leaves, those of the
Oriental Plane being the least indented. The seed-
vessels, which hang suspended by long threads during

Vou. XI.—O

Winter, in the form of little balls, are small, and of a
rough and spiry texture in the Oriental, and compara-
tively smooth, and much larger, in the Occidental
Plane. Both are of rapid growth, but the latter out-
strips its congener. Mr. Loudon states (‘ Arboretum’)
that in the climate of London, under favourable cir-
cumstances, the Oriental Plane has attained the height
of thirty feet in ten years, and in thirty years has
arrived at the height of sixty or seventy feet. It is
highly probable that the Western Plane, though it
grows so rapidly, will cease to be cultivated, now that
experience so completely established its unfitness
for our climate. ;

The wood of the planes is scarcely known in the
useful or ornamental arts in this country. In the East
it is said to be serviceable to the carpenter and ca-
binet-maker, being esteemed by the latter for its
smoothness and the ease with which it is polished.
The timber of old trees resembles the wood of the
walnut. Michaux states that the wood of the Western
Plane, when properly seasoned, is of a dull red colour,
and that it is capable of receiving a finer polish than
the beech; but it is fit only for furniture, as it is soon
warped by the weather. Mr. Cobbett observes, in his
‘ Woodlands,’ that chopping-blocka in the butchers’
shops throughout the United States are almost uni-
versally of plane tree, and that they are preferred on
account of their chipping less than other wood.

The plane of cither species may be regarded simply
a8 an Ornamental tree in England, and the Oriental
kind may be advantageously planted with this object,
either singly, in clumps, or to form an avenue. Asa
picturesque tree, Gilpin places it after the oak, the
ash, the elm, and the hornbeam. Mr. Loudon points
out its advantages over other trees, when planted near
houses. The large size of the leaves admits the breeze
in summer, while at the same time they afford shelter
from the sun and rain, and as there exists a proportion
between the distance of branches and twigs from each
other and the size of leaves, the separation being
greater where the leaves are large, the sun’s rays are
less obstructed in winter by the plane than any other
tree. Mr. Loudon enumerates further peculiarities
which render it more advantageous than other trees
when planted near the house ; such as the dull greyish-
green of its foliage, which in summer readily barmo-
nises with the colour of stone walls, and in winter the
greyish-white tint of the bark, which is then most con-
spicuous, is not unlike some kinds of freestone. The
horizontal direction of the branches adinits the lights
and shadows to play amidst its foliage with a happy
effect. It is not easy to find fault with any tree, and
in all we may find something peculiar and worthy of
admiration. If, as is generally believed, the plane
bears the smoke of towns better than any other tree, it
has claims on all who reside afar from the fresh
scencs of nature. At the present time there is a plane
tree growing in Wood Street, which, catching the eye
of the passenger as he hurries along Cheapside, may in
an instant carry him away in imagination from the
most thronged of the streets of London to the breezy
uplands, or some one of the thousands of delightful
country nooks which are to be found all over Eng.
land. One of Wordsworth's beautiful ‘ Poems of the
Imagination,’ entitled ‘ The Reverie of Poor Susan,’ is
founded on an incident connected with the rush of
early feelings excited by the sounds of nature at this
very point of the same crowded thoroughfare.

AMERICAN CHEESE.

ALTHOUGH a considerable quantity of American
cheese nas been nnported into England during the
last few years, it has scarcely found its way among

THE PENNY

MAGAZINE, [Marca 12,
retail dealers except in a few of our larger towns
and cities, principally those having direct intercourse
with America. More recently, however, there are ex-
ad Ba to this, for in some of the market reports of
inland towns we find mention made of American
cheese. Like the Dutch cheese, its quality is inferior
to our own best varieties; but there are dairies in
Amcrica which produce cheese of a better quality than
that we arc in the habit of importing from Holland.

It is well known that the quality of cheese greatly
depends upon the management of the dairy; for in
the dairying counties of England, dairy farms lying
contiguous to cach other, and of precisely the same
character, produce cheese of very different degrees of
excellence. This is owing to a difference in the eco-
nomy of the dairy, and we mention it in order to draw
attention to the remarkable similarity which exists
among the whole of the cheese made in America, not
only as regards quality and flavour, but in appearance.

The characteristics of American cheeses consist in
their greater diamcter or breadth in proportion to
their thickness; in their possessing their natural
colour, little or no artificial colouring being employed;
in their being full of holes or eyes; in possessing a
poubent or rather bitter taste, and in a bandage of

inen or cotton cloth being passed round their outward
rim. In some matters the Americans have adopted
modes and customs different from ours and from those
of other countries, and by no means superior to those
they have rejected or altered. Cheese-making may be
considered one of these; and, as a consequence, they
produce a quality of cheese decidedly interior to our
own.

The climate of the United States is by no means
favourable for the making of either butter or cheese.
Extremes of either heat or cold are equally injurious
to the milk which is intended for cheese. Winter,
however, is not the season for cheese-making either in
this country or America, and consequently the milk
during the summer months is never exposed to a very
low temperature. The economy of the American dairy is
a little different from our own, since the whey and the
butter-milk from which the cheese and butter have
been extracted are of more value in America than in
England. This is owing to the greater value of pork
in Aimerica, in proportion to that of butter and cheese,
as the best pork is frequently of higher value, weight
for weight, than the best cheese; and in some parts is
nearly on a par with the price of butter.

Few of the American dairies make more than one
cheese during the day of twenty-four hours: the even-
ing milk is deposited in pans (mostly of tin), and
mixed with the morning’s milk after the creain has
been taken off it, a plan often adopted in some of our
own dairies; and such cheeses are called two-meal
cheeses; but since the temperature of the atmosphere
during the hottest part of summer is at least from 6°
to 10° of Fahrenheit higher during both day and night
in America, the milk set up over-night gives but a
very little cream, and there 1s less opportunity offered
for robbing the cheese of its richest part.

It has been proved satisfactorily that the heat of the
milk when the rennet is mixed with it, and it is set to
coagulate, should not be over 85° or 87°; that the
coagulation should not be too rapidly performed, and
that when it has taken place, great attention should be
bestowed upon the treatment of the curd. To these
points but little attention is paid by the generality of
the managers of American dairies: in the first place,
the rennet is mixed with the milk while it 1s too
warm, and too much of it is employed in order that
the coagulation may be effected as speedily as possible,
for during the process of coagulation the temperature
of the mi anderegcs hardly any perceptible change ;

1842.) THE PENNY
while in our own cheese dairies, in the space of an
hour or something more, which the milk is allowed to
stand in order to give out all the curd, the temperature
commonly sinks 4° or 5°, except in very warm weather,
when 80° or 82° is the most approved state at the time
the curd is broken down. The American treatment
produces a peculiar pungent or bitterish taste; and
in general too liberal an allowance of salt is employed,
both in the curd and during the time the cheeses are
being subjected to the press. Some of the dairy people
will tell you that if the cheese were very mild, and but
little salted, it would be impossible to keep it from the
flies and maggots.

By the too rapid coagulation of the curd, and the
complete breaking of it up by the hand, in order that
it should quickly subside, the broken curd afterwards
becomes hard and tough, and this is the chief cause of
the cheese becoming so full of eyes. Neither is the
management in the press according to the English
plan; since where the cheeses are so thin as those
usually made in America, less force is necessary to
press them sufficiently ; for if the curd is put into the
cheese-vat saturated with whey, and immediately sub-
mitted to a severe pressure, not only is the whey and
all other moisture expelled too rapidly, but some por-
tion of the virtue of the finest curd. No doubt cheese
ought to be well pressed, but the power should be in
proportion to the material, and continued until the de-
sired effect has been produced, by rather slow, but by
sure means.

When the cheese has been submitted to the press for
the last time, the outward rim or circumference is
bound round with a piece of linen or cotton cloth, first
rubbed over with paste to make it adhere firmly, the
cloth being a little broader than the rim of the cheese,
that it should allow of being folded closely over the
edges of the rim both above and below. This ban-
daging is done as a precaution against injury when
sent to a distant market, and ig rarely adopted except
in large dairies; but where the circumference is so
great in proportion to the thickness, it is certainly no
bad plan to adopt.

The principal districts for cheese, or rather for such
as has yet found its way to the English markets,
are confined to the states of New York, New Hamp-
shire, Connecticut, and Massachusetts. New York has
the reputation of producing some of the best in the
United States; but the most noted cheese districts are
confined to some of the grass farms bordering on the
Hudson, Connecticut, and others of the smaller rivers;
but it is with the ‘Goshen’ checse of New York, some-
thing like what it is with the ‘Stilton’ cheese im this
country, a small quantity only of that which bears the
name is produced at or near the place from whence it
derives its name.

The usual home price of the best American cheese
is about six dollars the 100 lbs., or three pence sterling
the pound, and it is retailed at two or three cents
more. It is true that various expenses are incurred
in the route from the interior of the United States to
this country, but surely the cheese which costs three
pence per pound within fifty or sixty miles of the city
of New York, might be afforded at double that price,
or sixpence per pound, in the London market.

Home.—To be happy at home is the ultimate result ot all
ambition, the end to which every enterprise and labour tends,
and of which every desire prompts the prosecution. It is indeed
at home that every man must be known by those who would
make a just estimate of his virtue or felicity; for smiles and
embroidery are alike occasional, and the mind is often dressed
for suow in painted honour and fictitious benevolence.—Johnson.

MAGAZINE. 89

Love of the Tiger for Human Flesh.—It was my lot to be sta-
tioned, for several years, in a remote part of our Indian posses-
sions, adjoining the Mysore frontier, and in the immediate
vicinity of the great chain of Western Ghauts. In the pathless
thickets of their eternal forests, untrodden by the foot of man,
the tigress reared her young, and wandered with ber savage
partner into the smaller jungles of the plain, proving a scourge
that drove every feeling of security from the humble dwellings
of the wretched inhabitants. In such a country, inhabited by
the poorest classes, living in small villages surrounded by jungle,
and furced to seek their subsistence amongst the tiger's haunts,
numerous casualties of course occurred, aud I had frequent op-
portunities of studying the habits and witnessing the ravages of
this formidable animal. Some idea may be formed of the havoc
committed by tigers, when I mention, from returns made to
government, that, in one district, three hundred men and five
thousand head of cattle were destroyed during three years!
Whilst confined in the forest, the tiger is comparatively harm-
less. There, feeding principally on deer, he rarely encounters
man; and when the solitary hunter does meet the grim tyrant
of the woods, instinctive fear of the human race makes the striped
monster avoid him. But in the open country he becomes dan-
gerous. Pressed by hunger, he seeks his prey in the neighbour-
hood of villages, and carries off cattle before the herdsmen's
eyes. Still he rarely ventures to attack man, unless provoked,
or urged to desperation, But under whatever circumstances
human blood is once tasted, the spell of fear is for ever broken;
the tiger’s nature is changed, he deserts the jungle, and haunts
the very doors of his victims. Cattle pass unheeded, but their
driver is carried off; and from that time the tiger becomes a
man-eater.— Wild Sports of India.

The Landrail assuming the Semblance of Death.—Mr. Jesse.
in his remarks on this bird, says, “I have met with an incident
in the natural history of the corn-crake wnicn I believe is per-
fectly accurate, having been informed that the bird will put on
the semblance of death when exposed to danger from which it is
unable to escape. The incident was this:—A gentleman had a
corn-crake brought to him by his dog, to all appearance quite
dead. As it lay on the ground he turned it over with his foot,
and was convinced that it was dead. Standing by, however, in
silence, he suddenly saw it open an eye. He then took it up;
its head fell, its legs hung loose, and it appeared again quite
dead. He then put it into his pocket, and before Jong he felt it
all alive, and struggling to escape. He then took it out; it was
as lifeless as before. Having laid it again upon the ground, and
retired to some distance, the bird in about tive minutes warily
raised its head, looked round, and decamped at full speed. I
have seen a similar circumstance take place with a partridge,
and it is well known that many insects will practise the same
deception.”

Landed Property in Thessaly.—Occasionally we passed a piece
of magnificent rye, in full ear at that carly season, with straw
the longest I ever saw in my life; while the number of wild
pigeons that kept constantly rising out of these and other fields
of corn, as we rode past them, was positively marvellous. The
plain must be marshy in winter; but the whole of it might be
easily kept dry enough: for cultivation by a few cross-dikes, the
parts which are cultivated being drained effectually in that
manner. On passing one very magnificent piece of wheat, I ob-
served incidentally to the surrigee that it was in fine condition,
and asked if be knew to whom it belonged. “ How can F
tell?” was his reply; “any one that can afford to watch and
guard it may sow wherever he pleases; and when the time of
harvest comes he may reap it, if it has not been stolen before
that; and then some one perhaps sows there the next year, and
the man who has had the crop sows somewhere else.” “ Then
am I to understand that the land belongs to no one, and that
any one may plough or sow where he pleases?” said I, somewhat
surprised «How can the land belong to any one ?” asked, in
reply. the equally astonished Albanian. “ If I sow corn there,
the corn is mine; if you sow, it is yours; if I see good grass
there, I feed my horses, or sheep, or oxen, if I have any; and
any other person may do the same; but the land is not mine.”
‘“ But to whom then does the land belong? May I come and
turn out your flocks or sow seeds where you want to sow ?”
“ Of course you may, if you can; but if I sow corn there, or
feed my flocks there, I take good care to watch it, and not let
you.” —Captain Best's Excursions in Albena. o2

100

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

(Marcu 12,

[Convoy of Diamonds from the Diamond District to Rio J aneiro.}”

DIAMOND CARRIERS.

Tue diamond was formerly obtained only from the
East Indies’, but the mines in this quarter are now
nearly exhausted, and Brazil supplies not only Europe,
but, in a great measure, Asia also. They are found in
the beds of rivers in the district of Tejuco, which is
better known as the ‘ Diamond District.’ At first the
search was prosecuted by private adventurers, but the
Government finally monopolised the business, and the
whole district was placed under peculiar laws and
regulations. If diamonds were found in gold wash-
ings, the adventurers were obliged to abandon the
works to the Government, and very severe measures
were adopted to repress the illicit search,—banishment

: Mr. Mawe :—“ A shed is erected in the form of a pa-

rallelogram, twenty-five or thirty yards long, and about
fifteen wide, consisting of upright posts, which oh tape
a roof thatched with long grass. own the middle of
the area of this shed a current of water is conveyed

‘through a canal covered with planks, on which the

cascalho is laid two or three feet thick. On the other
side of the area is a flooring of planks, from four to
five yards long, embedded in clay, extending the whole
length of the shed, and having a a from the canal
of three or four inches to a yard. s flooring is di-
vided into about twenty compartments or troughs, each
about three feet wide, by means of planks placed on
their edge. The upper end of all these troughs (here
called canoes) communicates with the canal, and are

to Africa, or imprisonment for life, with confiscation of | so formed that water is admitted into them between

preperi. being the punishment annexed to this offence ;
ut these severe penalties could not repress a traffic
which afforded so many facilities for evasion.

When Mr. Mawe, the mineralogist, visited the
‘Diamond District,’ about two thousand negroes were
oe, ig a divided into parties of about two hundred
each, under a sub-administrator and overseers. The
mode pursued was to turn the channel of the river in
whose bed the precious stones were concealed, and,
after removing the mud, to dig up the channel and re-
move the materials, called cascalho, for washing.
During the dry season, a sufficient supP'y is taken to
occupy the negroes in the rainy months. The cascalho
is laid in heaps of from five to fifteen tons, and it is
now ready for washing, for which purpose water is
carried by aqueducts, and means adopted for distri-
buting it in the troughs where the operation is to take
place. The method of washing is thus described by

two planks that are about an inch separate. Through
this opening the current falls about six inches into the
trou f and may be directed to any pers of it, or stopped
at pleasure by means of a small quantity of clay.
Along the lower ends of the os a small channel
is dug to carry off the water.” The eartliy particles
being washed away, the gravel-like matter remains,
which is cleared first of the large, and next of the
smaller stones, and the residue is then carefully exa-
mined. When a negro finds a diamond, he rises up
and claps his hands, and one of the overseers receives
the gem, all which are found during the day being
taken at night to a superior officer, who weighs and
registers them. A negro who finds a diamond weigh-
ing seventeen and a half carats receives his freedom,
and premiums are given to the discoverer of smaller
stones. To prevent collusion and concealment of
diamonds, the negroes, at a given signal, remove into

1842. ]
different troughs several times in the course:of the

day.

The diamonds in the treasury of Tejuco are kept in
chests, under several locks, the keys of which are en-
trusted to different officers, and are sent annually under
a military escort to Rio Janeiro. The soldiers who per-
form this duty are selected on account of their good
character; and when not thus olpe ed, they are en-
gaged in protecting the places which are known to
contain precious products. The journey from Tejuco
to Rio Janeiro occupies about a month. The average
quantity of diamonds obtained from the Diamond Dis-
trict, when it was visited by Mr. Mawe, was from twenty
to twenty-five thousand carats, and the total quantity ob-
tained in Brazil was about thirty thousand carats. Mr.
Mawe was shown the diamond treasury at Rio Janeiro,
which contained from four to five thousand carats. The
largest diamond yet known, which weighs one hundred
and thirty-eight and a half carats, was discovered in
1791, in the Rio Abaité, adjoining the district of Tejuco.
If estimated by the standard at which smaller diamonds
are valued, it would be worth 5,644,800/. The follow-
ing estimates cf the commercial value of diamonds of
good quality is by Mr. Mawe, who states that the prices
are not subject to much fluctuation :—Weight from one
to two and a half grains, 7/. to 82. per carat; three to
four grains, 8J. to 9/. per carat; five to six grains, 137. to
143. per carat; six grains, perfect, 172. to 181.; weigh-
ing two carats, 27/. to 304. ; three carats, fine and well-
formed, 70¢. to 80é.; four carats, 1002. to 130/.; dia-
monds weighing five carata are worth from 180/. to
2002. ; and those of six carats, from 2308. to 2304.

The art of cutting and polishing diamonds was un-
known in Europe until 1456, when a young man
named Louis Berghen, a native of Bruges, constructed
a polishing-wheel and used diamond- powder as an at-
tritive. Besides the value of the diamond for orna-
ment, it is employed in some of the useful arts, and the
sale of bad or discoloured diamonds to be pulverised is
said to be more extensive than the sale of brilliants.
A)l other precious stones are cut and polished with the
diamond; cameos, intaglios, and seals are engraved;
and crystal for spectacles, agatesa for snuff-boxes, and
window-glass are cut by it.

IDENTITY OF PERSONS.

Ir is a most extraordinary phenomenon, that amid the
countless myriads of human beings that have been
created, a distinctive individual appearance should ap-
pertain to each one. The masses of mankind have, by
original decree, or the influence of surrounding cir-
cumstances, become parcelled out into various nations,
each having their peculiar characteristic forms and
features; but among none of these (not even the Jews
and Gypsies, in whom the practice of intermarriage
has contributed to maintain a so remarkable general
resemblance) have the marks of the personal identity
of the individual been destroyed. Yet there exist some
exceptions to this law of identity, and the consideration
of some of these may prove not only interesting, but of
practical utility.

Although, says Foderé, no two persons do exactly
resemble each other, and, on close observation, a dis-
tinctive physiognomy may be observed, even in chil
dren (and twin children, too) of the same family; yet,
the distinguishing traits of some individuals are either
so slightly perceptible, or have become forgotten, and
thus many persons have been known, without any
interested motive, but purely through ignorance, to
attest as true what was really false: fathers, mothers,
nusbands, and wives have been thus led away by illu-
sions— erroneously denying or maintaining the identity
of their children, or of each other,

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

101

Pliny devotes a section in the seventh book of his
‘ Natural History’ to “Exempla Similitudinum.” He
says that it was hardly possible to distinguish Pompey
the Great from the plebeian Vibius and the freedinan
Publicius; each of these persona resembling him so
closely in his noble and generous deportment and
handsome countenance. Cneus Scipio was nicknamed
Serapion, from a striking likeness to a low slave of
that name who sold animals for the sacrifices; while
one of his descendants, and the consuls Lentulus and
Metellus, were each called after certain actors whom
they so nearly resembled. A fisherman of Sicily re-
sembled the proconsul Sura, not only in features, but
also in possessing a peculiar defect of speech. Tora-
nius sold to Antonius, when Triumvir, two children of
a rare beauty and a perfect resemblance, although the
one was born in Asia, and the other beyond the Alps.
He passed them off as twins, but their language after-
wards betraying the deception, Antonius reproached
the seller with having obtained a far too enormous
price for them. Toranius, nothing abashed, replied,
that the very point which was considered a defect in
these children, was, in truth, their highest recominen-
dation; for while a resemblance between two twins
could not be looked on as extraordinary, an example
of its existence between two children, born even in
different countries, was worthy of the highest recom-
pense. Antonius henceforth considered his purchase
as the most valuable of all his articles of ver#2.

Impostors of various kinds have made the resem-
blance they bore to other individuals an instrument of
practising their deceptions; and some of these have in
this way even aspired to the attainment of sovercign
power, One of the most remarkable of these is met
with in Russian history, under the name of the false
Demetrius. The celebrated Czar Basilovitz, dying in
1484, left two sons, the one who became Czar, named
Theodore, and the younger named Demetrius. The
new Czar, being a very weak man, allowed all the
power to pass from his hands into those of his minister

oris, who persuaded him, that for the security of his
reign the assassination of his brother Demetrius was
necessary; and this was accordingly accomplished.
The Czar hiinself died in a few pears and it was sus-
pore that Boris had poisoned him. With him the

ine of Ruric, which had governed Russia 700 years,
became extinct, and Boris procured himself to be de-
clared Czar.

In 1604 a monk named Ostrefief, who bore a re-
markable likeness to the murdered Demetrius, ‘and
possessed various qualifications essential to the acqui-
sition of popularity, declared that he really was Deme-
trius, and that the person who had been assassinated
had been substituted for him when he had the good
fortune to make his escape. The people, disliking the
government of Boris, and attached to the ancient royal
race, lent a greedy ear to his representations. Many
persons, who had well known the prince from certain
marks, declared that this person was really him. He
was encouraged by some wealthy nobles, and the king
of Poland supplied him with a small army to assert his
rights. His progresa was notorious, and in 1605 he
was crowned at Moscow, Boris having previously in
despair taken poison. The widow of Basilovitz, who
had been banished, was now sent for by the pretended
Demetrius, and with tears in their eyes they recognised
each other upon their meeting. The credit of the new
Czar now seemed fully established; but his impru-
dence prevented his reign continuing. Having mar-
ried a Polish princess, he showed go undue a partiality
to the countrymen of his wife, to whom indeed he owed
so much, and so great a disposition to encourage the
Catholic religion, that a conspiracy was speedily orga-
nized against him. The old Czarina was compelled to

102 THE PENNY

recant her avowal of him as her son, declaring she had
only pretended to recognise him, as seeing in him an
instrument for the chastisement of the oppressors of
her race. He was assassinated during the rebellion.
No less than five other impostors pretended afterwards
to be Demetrius; but into their history, or into that of
the various wars 4nd tumults they occasioned, we can-
not enter, as in no instance, except the first, were the
pretensions grounded upon the exactness of the per-
sonal resemblance.

Russia has witnessed another impostor in more re-
cent times. A Don Cossack, named Pugatscheff, having
been sent to the camp with despatches, was observed
by all the officers to bear a remarkable resemblance to
the murdered emperor Peter. He resolved to turn
this to good account, and having spent some time in
Poland in perfecting his scheme, he returned to Russia
in 1773, and by spreading the report that he was the
emperor, who had escaped from the hands of the assas-
sins, contrived to raise a considerable force among the
Cossacks, and for more than a year maintained a most
harassing warfare. At last his followers, disgusted with
his cruelty and brutality, and stimulated by an im-
mense reward, betrayed him to Count Panin, when he
was taken in an iron cage to Moscow, and there exe-
cuted in 1775.

In France several persons have personated the
Dauphin, the son of the unfortunate Louis XVI., who
died in prison during the reign of terror, but whom they
declared to have escaped. Among these one Herve-
gault, the son of a tailor, from his strong likeness to
Louis XVI., was induced to himself off for his
son. Persons even of high rank were deceived by
him, and induced, in spite of his repeated imprison-
ments, to pay him royal honours. He died in the
Bicétre in 1812. Some years after, another impostor,
named Bruneau, excited considerable attention, and in
1818 was imprisoned for seven years.

The two celebrated instances of impostors which
occurred in our own country during the reign of
Henry VII., Lambert Simmel and Perkin Warbeck,
are not cases in point, as they did not attempt to com-

their ends by insisting upon the personal resem-
lance, but rather by natural address and a skilful
employment of historical aud family facts, which could
only have been acquired from a careful tuition.
ases of near resemblance are in fact of by no means
rare occurrence, and difficult questions of identity are
frequently brought before courts of law, some of those
which are upon record being of a very interesting
nature. Decisions as to heritage and affiliation, nay,
affecting life itself, have frequently depended upon the
establishment of identity. tn that rich repertorium of
legal lore, the Causes Celébres, many remarkable cases
of disputed identity are to be found: a brief notice of
a few of these may prove interesting.

A noted example was determine by the parliament
of Toulouse in 1560. Martin Guerre had been absent
from home eight years, when an adventurer, named
Arnauld Dutille, personated him, and took possession
of his property: he had children by Guerre’s wife, but
neither she nor her sister and brother-in-law suspected
the deceit for three years. Some suspicious circum-
stances then arising, the case was taken before the
tribunals, when not less than three hundred witnesses
were examined, some of whom positively declared
that the accused was Guerre, others as positively that
he was Dutille, while a third set declared they could
not distinguish the one from the other. The judges
were reduced to the greatest perplexity, when the real
Guerre appeared. e effrontery of Dutille well nigh
disconcerted him, but upon direct personal compari-
son the wife and sister at once acknowledged him as
their relative.

MAGAZINE.

De Caille, a Protestant, fled into Switzerland at
the revocation of the Edict of Nantes. His son
died in his presence at Vervoi. Some years after,
a marine and a Protestant, wishing to obtain the estate
by abjuration, declared himself to be the young De
Caille, to whom he bore a great resemblance. He was
prosecuted as an impostor. Some hundred persons
testified as to his identity, among whom were women
who had nursed De Caille’s child, and old servants of
the family. Public enthusiasm became excited in his
favour, as it was stated that the opposition to his
claims was got up by the Protestants in order to pre-
vent him embracing the Catholic faith. Persons of
consequence espoused his cause, and in vain were
proofs offered that his true name was Mége, and that
the young man whom he personated was really dead.
He was put into the full possession of the estate, and
shortly afterwards married ghlartieg Sarnath But here
he carried matters too far, for he had already a wife,
who, having hitherto connived at his proceedings in
the hope of sharing in the spoil, finding herself duped
and deceived, betrayed his secret. The case was now
more carefully reinvestigated at Paris, when it was
found that certain physical marks, known to have
existed upon the young De Caille, were not to be dis-
covered upon the impostor.

Two children belonging to a widow, named Le
Moine, strayed away from home during her absence.
About a year after, a mendicant came into the church
where the widow was, leading by the hand a little boy.
All the inhabitants of the vicinity, struck by its exact
resemblance, declared this to be one of the lost
children. The mother, however, denied the identity.
Her neighbours, among whom was a person who had
nursed the child for three years, and the surgeon who
had attended it during an illness, protested against
her unnatural conduct in denying her child; and the
beggar was thrown into prison. The child itself was
cunning enough to prefer a life of ease to one of men-
dicancy, and by its replies only confirmed the existing
prejudices. Things so continued, when one day one
of the widow’s sons returned, and stated that the
brother who had run away with him, fell ill and died,
and to corroborate what he said, he produced a certifi-
cate signed by the minister of the parish and the resi-
dent of the house in which the boy had died.

A very singular case occurred in New York in
1804, A man was tried as one John Hoag for bigamy.
He denied the identity, and declared his name to be
Parker. Numerous witnesses swore that he was really
Hoag, and, among others, the woman whom that
person had married and deserted. Hoag was, more-
over, said to speak quick and lJisping, to have a scar on
his forehead, and a mark on his neck, all which cir-
cumstances were observed regarding the prisoncr.
Two witnesses, however, distinctly swore that Hoag
had a very visible scar upon the sole of the foot, pro-
duced by treading on a knife, but this mark did not
exist upon the prisoner. He afterwards proved an alzd1.

One Redman was accused of robbing a Mr. Brown,
and one of the witnesses, on cross-examination, said
he knew a man, then in custody, who so resembled the
prisoner, that he should not know the one from the
other. These men were placed side by side in court, and
every one was astounded at their exact resemblance.

When the twin brothers Perreau were tried for
perjury, their resemblance was so complete, that the
scrivener, who had drawn up eight bonds at the order
of the one or the other, did not know upon which of
them to fix the charge. Dr. Montgomery mentions
an instance of twins only to be distinguished by their
parents by means of their dress.

The above cases would lead us to conclude that in
all criminal trials the greatest caution must be em-

[Marcu 12,

— ~~

TE eee —————

1842.) THE PENNY
ployed in pronouncing upon cases of doubtful identity,
and the melancholy fact that several innocent persons
have suffered death through their identity having been
mistaken, proves the absolute necessity of such cau-
tion.

Dr. Montgomery relates that a gentleman was
robbed near Dublin, and a man placed upon his trial
as the perpctrator, and convicted upon the prosecutor’s
testimony ; but, owing to prior good conduct, he was
recommended to mercy. A few days after, the gentle-
mian was horror-struck at oe in a road with the
very man who had really robbed him. The error in
this case seems to have arisen from the defective quan-
tity of light, and the question has been movted, as to
what degrec of light is esscntial to enable a witness to
swear to identity. The French Institute decided, after
numerous experiments, that the degree of illumina-
tion caused by the flashing of a pistol was not sufficient
for this purpose. A Bow-street officer, however, iden-
tified a robber by this means in 1799 ; and Dr. Mont-
gomery mentions an instance of a lady obtaining a
sufficient view of a robber during a flash of lightning
to be enabled to recognise him again.

Two men, named Clinch and Mackay, suffered death
in 1797, for the murder of Mr. Fryer, their identity
being sworn to by Miss Fryer. Some years after, two
thieves, executed for another offence, declared that
they were Mr. Fryer’s murderers.

Alluding to the case of Colman, who was unjustly
executed for rape, Dr. Paris observes :—‘ The melan-
choly case of Colman will impress my reader with the
importance of carefully noticing the circumstances of
dying declarations, lest, by receiving as evidence the
ravings of delirium, or at least the imperfect impres-
sion of impaired faculties, the innocent should be sa-
crificed to the errors of the dying; and this is the more
necessary in those cases wherein the atrocity of the
crime committed creates an immediate prejudice
against the party charged or suspected.”

As on the one hand a person may be condemned
through a mistaken identity, so, on the other hand,
many circumstances may produce so great an altera-
tion of the personal appearance, that a true identity
may be denied. The brethren of Joseph knew him
not, and Ulysses was only recognised by his dog. The
learned Lacchias relates an instance of this :—Andrew
Casali, a Bolognese nobleman, having been absent from
his country for thirty years, was supposed to have died
in battle, and his heirs took possession of his property.
He however, returning at last to Italy, and claiming
his rights, was sent to prison as an impostor. Indeed
he was so completely changed in appearance, that his
recognition was impossible: at this he was in nowise
surprised, since, having fallen into the hands of savages,
he had sustained several years of cruel bondage. Lac-
chias, to whom the case was referred, decided that cir-
cumstances may so change the appearance as to render
it unrecognisable, and Casali was reinstated in all his
richts.

Lacchias enumerates the various circumstances
which may have an influence in producing this change.
The effects of mere age, and of the increase or decrease
of corpulency, are known to every one. The change
of colour of the eyes, and of the hair, especially of the
latter, is remarkable; thus, almost all children are
born with blue eyes and light hair. Change of climate
seems to have much effect in darkening or rendering
grey the hair—the red colour longest resisting its
influence, and after it the black. Intense grief may
whiten the hair instantaneously, and this is said to have
occurred to Marie Antoinette; and Lemnius relates
that a criminal, a fine young man, being condemned to
death, his hair turned suddenly white. The emperor,
when he saw this, thought his hair had been whitened

MAGAZINE. : 103
artificially, or that some one had been substituted for
the criminal; but on learning the genuineness of the
change, he pardoned the man, saying that the dreadful
moral convulsion he had undergone was ample punish-
ment. Climate produces many other remarkable
changes, as may the various aliments to which the ab-
sent person has been accustomed, or the different
diseases from which he has suffered. Walter Scott has
some lines in ‘ Marmion,’ beautifully illustrative of
this part of our subject :

* Danger, long travel, wont and wo,
Soon change the form that best we know :
For deadly fear can time outyo,
And blanch at once the hair.
Hard toil can roughen form and face,
And want can quench the eyes’ bright grace, —
Nor does old age a wrinkle trace
More deeply than despair.”

v
__It must be allowed, then, that the establishment of
identity is frequently a matter of infinite difficulty, and
authors have not been able to lay down rules for so
doing. Orfila considers that the condition of the hair
may frequently aid in proving it; and as no putrefac-
tion occurs in this structure, the mark is available
after death. In general the declaration of the identity
of dead persons is even far more difficult than is the ©
case with regard to the living, as the features undergo
so marked a change. Scars and cicatrices, original or
mother-spots, and congenital malformations, form the
most unexceptionable marks of identity.

Although the greater number of the narrations con-
cerning supposititious children are the mere offspring
of popular credulity and the love of the marvellous, yet
in some cases the establishment of the identity of a
claimant of an inheritance has been a matter of infinite
difficulty. The Anglesey and Douglas cases are ccle-
brated instances of this, that excited a vast degree of
interest in the public mind during the periods of their
agitation. Lord Mansfield, in delivering the judg-
ment of the House of Lords pee the latter, laid
great stress upon the existence of a family likeness as
one proof of identity. He says, “ [have always con-
sidered likeness as an argument of a child being the
son of a parent; and the rather as the distinction be-
tween individuals of the human species is more dis-
cernible than in other animals: a man may survey ten
thousand people before he sees two faces perfectly
alike ; anil in an army of a hundred thousand men,
evcry one may be known from another. If there
should be a likeness of feature, there may be a dis-
criminacy of voice, a difference in the gesture, the
smile, and various other characters; whereas a family
likeness runs generally through all these ; for in every-
thing there is a resemblance, as of features, size, atti-
tude, and action.” In respect to family likeness, Dr.
Gregory used to relate the following anecdote :—Being
called to a rich nobleman, residing in one of the pro-
vinces of Scotland, he was struck with the exact resem-
blance the form of his nose bore to that of a portrait of
the Grand Chancellor of Scotland in the reign of
Charles I In walking through the village next day,
he observed the same configuration in several of the
inhabitants, and the nobleman’s steward informed him
that ali these persons were illegitimate descendants of
the Chancellor.

SPRING BALANCES.
Tue spring-balance is a machine in which the elas-
ticity of a spring of tempercd stecl is employed as a
means of measuring weight or force. One of the
simplest kinds of spring-balance is that which, when
employed as a weighing-machine, is known as the
spring or pocket steelyard. It consists of a helical

104 THE PENNY

spring formed by bending a steel wire spirally round
a cylindrical mandril or axis, so as to form an exten-
sive series of convolutions. This spring is placed in
the interior of a tube of brass or iron, closed at both
ends; one end of the spring abutting against the plate
which closes the lower end of the tube. A rod, having
a hook or loop at its lower extremity, to hold the
article to be weighed, es through a hole in the
bottom of the tube, and up the inside of the spring.
At the upper end of this rod is a small plate, which
slides up and down like a piston in the tube, and rests
upon the upper or free end of the spring; thereby
causing it to collapse when a heavy body 1s attached
to the hook at the bottom of the sliding rod. The
machine is supported by means of a hook or ring
attached to the upper end of the tube; and the extent
of the motion of the spring, and consequently the
weight of the body suspended from it, are indicated by
the degree to which the rod is drawn out of the tube.
For this purpose a graduated scale is engraved upon
the rod; the divisions indicating the extent of com-
Pee produced in the spring by the application of

nown weights. Several spring-balances on the same
principle are made for various purposes. That known
as Salter’s balance has a brass plate attached to the
tube or cylinder, within which the spring is enclosed,
and a vertical slit through the plate and tube. A scale
is engraved on the face of the brass plate, and the
weight is indicated by a pointer which moves up and
down with a spring, with which it is connected through
the vertical slit in the tube. A very delicate balance
of this kind has been manufactured for weighing
letters, since the introduction of Rowland Hill's plan
of penny postage. In 1814 the Society of Arts re-
warded Mr. Martin for an ‘ index weighing-machine,’
acting upon the same principle, but having a circular
dial-plate and a revolving pointer or index resembling
the hand of a clock. On the axis of the index, but at
the back of the dial-plate, is a toothed pinion, which is
turned by a straight rack attached to the vertical rod,
which rises and falls with the spring. The index re-
mains in a vertical position when the balance is un-
loaded, and deviates more or less from it when a
weight is attached to the hook. One advantage of this
construction is that the point of the index traverses a
much greater space than the spring itself, so that a
very small movement of the spring becomes readily
discernible.

Spring-balances with helical springs are applied to
several useful purposes besides that of ascertaining the
weight of bodies. A spring of this character is some-
times used to hold down the lever of the safety-valve
in a steam-engine boiler, the movement of the index
also showing the pressure of the steam. Such an appa-
ratus is da | useful in a locomotive engine, the
shaking motion of which might derange a valve loaded
with moveable weights. A helical spring-balance forms
also a good cable-stopper. When applied to the inea-
surement of muscular force, the tractive power of a
locomotive carriage, &c., one end of the cylinder in
which the spring is enclosed is made fast to an im-
moveable object, and the aie to be measured is ap-
plied to the sliding-rod. If used to ascertain the force
necessary to draw a carriage, the spring is placed be-
tween the carriage to be drawn and the power em-

loyed to draw it. In using a spring-dynamometer
or this purpose, especially when the carriage is moved
by animal power, some inconvenience is occasioned by
the vibration of the index with every trifling variation
in the force applied, to remedy which Mr. H. R. Pal-
mer contrived an apparatus in which the quick vibra-
tion of the spring is checked by means of a piston
moving in a cylinder filled with oil, A very narrow
space is allowed for the oil to pass between the edge

MAGAZINE. {Marcu 12,
of the piston and the cylinder, so that a considerable
resistance is opposed to the motion of the piston and
the springs, and the index consequently represents the
mean amount of force applied without being affected
by sudden variations.

The ingenious method adopted by Mr. Martin for
transmitting the motion of a spring toan index moving
upon @ circular dial-plate, 1s applicable to spring-
balances of other than the helical construction. It was
used by M. Hanin, a French gentleman, who was re-
warded by the Society of Arts, in 1790, for an appara-
tus for showing at one view the weight of an object
according to several different scales or systems of
weights. His machine, which is described and figured
in the ninth volume of the Society’s ‘Transactions,’
consists of a dial-plate, on which are marked several
concentric circles, divided according to the systems of
weights used in different countries, and an index
moved by a rack and pinion, as before described. The
spring, instead of being of a helical form, is semicircu-
lar; its uEper extremity being firmly attached to the
back of the dial-plate by means of screws, while its
lower end is attached to the hook which carries the
weight, and the sliding rack by which the index is
moved. Marriott’s patent weighing-machine is very
similar to that of M. Hanin, but the epring is a perfect
ellipsis, with its longer axis laid horizontally. The
stem to which the ring for holding the apparatus is
attached, is fastened by a nut and screw to the middle
of the upper side of the spring; and the rack, with the
hook which holds the article to be weighed, to the cor-
responding point on the lower side of the spring. The
spring, rack, and pinion are enclosed in a circular box
at the back of the dial-plate, the periphery of which
serves as a stop to prevent the spring from being over-
strained. A similar apperatus, contrived by M. Reg-
nier, has been used as a dynamometer, as well as a
weighing-machine.

A scale-plate or dish may be added when necessary
to any of the spring weighingimachines which have
been described. On account of the absence of weights,
and the great al ye | of their application, spring-
balances are very useful in cases where extreme accu-
racy 1s not required, especially when a portable weigh-
ing-machine is desirable. Machines for ascertaining
the weight of the human body are often made on this
principle, a kind of chair being suspended from the
spring.—From the Penny Cyclopedia.

The Steam-Engine.—M. Deleclute has lately made a discovery
among the manuscripts of Leonardo da Vinci, carrying a know-
ledge of the steam-engine to at least as far back as the fifteenth
century. He bas published in the ‘ Artiste’ a notice on the life
of Leonardo da Vinci, to which he adds a fac-simile of a page
from one of his manuscripts, and on which are five sketches with
the pen, representing the details of the apparatus of a steam-gun,
with an explanatory note upon what he designates under the
name of the ¢ Architonnerre, and of which note the following is
a translation :—* Invention of Archimedes. The Architommerre
is a machine of fine copper, which throws balls with a loud
report and great force. It is used in the following manner :—
One third of this instrument contains a large quantity of char-
coal fire. When the water is well heated, a screw at the top of
the vessel which contains the water must be made quite tight.
On closing the screw above, all the water will escape below,
will descend into the heated portion of the imstrument, aud be
immediately converted into a vapour so abundant and powerful,

“that it is wonderful to sce its fury and hear the noise it produces,

This machine will carry a ball a taleut in weight.” It 1s
worthy of remark, that Leonardo da Vinci, far from claiming
the merit of this invention for himself, or the men of his time,
attributes it to Archimedes.—Galgnani’s Messenger.

1542.)

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

105

{Ning- Po.)

NING-PO |

Tne events now occurring in China give, at the pre- |
sent moment, a el a interest to places of that |
singular empire, of which, being pipet and warlike, :
our ceful pages cannot avail themselves; but we
may be allowed to hope that the painful though per- |
haps necessary proceedings now occurring there may |
tend to produce a more pleasing interest, and a more
lasting association with districts capable of main-
taining a mutually beneficial intercourse with. our-
selves, and by no means undeserving of our attention
from their own importance, apart from that derived
irom the energetic display of British power and
valour.

One of such places is Ning-Po, the Pace port of
the province of Che-Kiang, situated about seventy
miles east-south-east from Hang-Chow, the capital of
the province, at the termination of the grand canal
from Pekin, and about fifty westward of Chusan. The
province is one of the most fertile in China, and is
‘“‘the very centre of the silk manufactures and of tea
cultivation, the two great staples of British trade in
China.” (Davis’s ‘Sketches.’) Black tea is produced
chiefly in this province and the neighbouring province
of Fo-Kien; and the cultivation of the mulberry is
carefully attended to, the leaves of the young trees
being found to be most favourable to the superiority of
the quality of the silk.

Ning-Po is situated on the right bank of the Tahee
or Ning-Po river, about fifteen miles from its mouth,
which is protected by the fortified town of Chin-Hae,
recently taken by the English. The port is good ; and
the river, though it has a bar at the entrance, has a
depth of fourteen feet to the walls of thecity. The
town is enclosed with walls of freestone, but which,

No. 639.

according to Gutzlaff,* though massive, were over
grown with weeds, and in a state of decay ; it has five
gates, two on the east, where is the port, as also two
water-gates, for the barks in and out of the city by
means of the canals, of which it has several. The
other three gates are in the other three sides ; while a
floating bridge, upwards of a thousand feet in length,
formed of sixteen flat-bottomed boats, bound together
with iron chains, connects the eastern front with the
suburb on the opposite side of the river: this bridge
was broken through in the late attack upon the town.
Ning-Po is about five miles in circumference, and is
said to contain 300,000 inhabitants. The streets are
mostly narrow, as in all the towns of China, and ap-
pear to be more so from the overhanging penthouses
of the shops, of which the town is full, sore of the
streets being also ornamented with triumphal arches.
Gutzlaff, who was here in 1832, says, ‘We passed a
broad street, well lined with the most elegant shops,
which even exceed those of Canton. European manu-
factures, as well as Chinese, were here displayed to
much advantage. Mirrors and pictures also, with the
most splendid silks, embellished and decorated the
scene ;” and he adds, that Ning-Po “surpasses anything
Chinese which we had yet seen, in the regularity and
magnificence of the buildings, and is behind none in
mercantile fame.” Much of the trade of the port
arises from the intercourse with the Japanese, to
whom they convey their silk, receiving in return gold,
silver, and copper. The Chinese also who have emi-

* <Journal of Three Voyages along the Coast of China in
1831, 1832, and 1833,’ by Charles Gutzlaff. These voyages were
undertaken in trading-vessels, but Mr. Gutzlaff bad for his

_ object the conversion of the Chinese to the Christian
ait

Digitized by
LIIUIZ OU Vy

106

grated to Siam and Batavia carry on a similar com-
merce to a considerable extent. A great number of
junks are also built at Ning-Po.

The mandarin to whom Mr. Gutzlaff addressed
himself on the subject of his mission, received him
courteously, although the inhabitants, on coming up
the river, he says, “looked very disdainfully at us,
and repeatedly called us black devils.” He and his
attendants were provided with a lodging. ‘“ We
crossed a floating bridge, and arrived at the leang-
kung, Fubkeen hall. This was an extensive building,
with spacious rooms, adorned with Chinese pictures
and idols. A very sumptuous supper was scrved up
in the cyening, and every attention shown us to make
us comfortable. We were fully sensible of this un-
common degree of kindness, and made no remarks
upon the dirty room where we were to pass the night.
In front of it were different idols, all gilt ; one of them
was inscribed with the name of the emperor, and re-
ceixed his regular supply of incense with much more
attention than his neighbours.” The populace of the
town also, though curious and noisy, were far more
decorous than their river-side fellow-countrymen.

The river above, or, according to Gutzlaff, within
the town divides itself into two branches, which are then
called the Yao amd the Kin, neither of which supplics
fresh water. The district watered by these streams is
thus described by Duhalde :—

‘“‘ These rivers water a plain surrounded almost on all
sides with mountains, and form a sort of an oval basin,
whose diameter from east to west (drawing a linc
across the city) may be about ten or twelve thousand
toises, the Chinese toise being, as I have already said,
ten feet: that from north to south is much greater.

“The plain, which resembles a garden for its level-
ness and cultivation, is full of towns and houses, and
divided by a great number of canals made by the
waters which fall from the mountains ; the canal, upon
which one part of the suburbs is situated, to the toot
of the mountains, is separated into three branches, and
is about five or six thousand toises long, and six or
seven broad.

“Within this extent of ground there are reckoned
sixty-six canals on the right and left sides of the prin-
cipal one, some of which are broader than the princi-
pal itself. This vast quantity of water, conducted with
art, renders the plain exceeding fruitful, and causes it
to yield two crops of rice; besides the rice, they also
sow cotton and pulse: there one may also behold a
reat number of trees which bear tallow (the Croton
scbifera).

“The air is also everywhere wholesome, and the
country pleasant and open. The sea supplies a great
ee of fish, all sorts of shell-fish, and good lob-
sters. Among others, in the beginning of summer, they
catch a fish called hoang, that is to say, the ycllow fish,
which are much sought after on account of their deli-
cate taste; but as they will not kcep long out of water,
they take care to put them into glasses, and by this
means transport them throughout the empire.”

“Below the town,” says Gutzlaff, “the banks of
the river are so low that dykes are very neccssary : the
Whole region, with the exception of long ridges of
sterile hills, is highly cultivated. It was the time of
Wheat harvest, and all the people were in the fields
cutting the corn, which this year amply repaid them
fur their labour. Even in ie houses of the peasants
we remarked more comfort and neatness than in the
parts we had hitherto visited.”

In 1736 it was attempted to make Ning-Po a station
for the British trade; but, as is remarked in Milburn’s
‘Oriental Cominerce,’ the oppression the English
traders were subject to eainpenied them to abando: it.
The recent capture of Ning-Po may perhaps enable

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

(Marcu 19,

the project to be reajised on more equal terms than
could else have been obtained, and we may venture to
hope that the benefits arising from the introduction ofa
higher and more humanising civilization, may com-
ae the unfortunate sufferers, and their posterity,
or the evils inflicted upon them by war.

THE PASTON LETTERS.*

Tue Wars of the Roses fill a dark and melancholy page
of our history; but they issue in a period of great im-
portance and great interest—the commencement of
something like fixed and cstablished government.
Their origin also is connected with the assertion of
Aa which in subsequent times lcd to the esta-

lishment of England's civil and religious liberties.
The House of Lancaster were the friends of truth and
freedom. They were the supporters of Wickliffe and
his followers; the abettors of views and opinions to
which the Reformation of Luther afterwards gave sta-
bility. And though in the contests which followed,
the struggle became one merely selfish—one mercly
for the supremacy of faction, it is no part of wise and
honest men to suffer their attachment to sound princi-
ples to be diminished by the weakness or wickedness
of some of their advocates.

During the time of the Edwards, the vigour cf their
government at home and the splendid carcer of their
arms abroad combined to make the people gencrally
peaccable and satisfied. Richard IT. was a wreichedly
Incompetent prince. His inexperience, the imbecility
of his character, his dissoluteness and extravagance,
diszusted all classes. The lower orders were goaded
to frenzy by unjust imposts and arbitrary taxes, and
driven to insurrection for a redress of their grievances.
The nobles were induced to combine in something very
like treason and rebellion, in ordcr to maintain even
the tt age of government. Society was disor-
ganised; one part preying upon another without re-
straint. Richard's deposition was justified by his weak-
ness and folly. Ilenry’s title to the throne was not in-
decd sanctioned by the notions of succession which then
pera but let us not forget that more recent times

ave given another solution to the problem of heredi-
tary claims. Henry's best title was the consent of the
nation, founded on the prudence, wisdom, and energy
of his character. During this and the subsequent
reign little effort was made by the opposite faction to
disturb the House of Lancaster in its possession of the
crown. But the childish incapacity of Henry VI., the
parties of Gloucester and Cardinal Beaufort, which
agitated the nation during the king’s minority, and the
reverses which the British arms sustaincd in France,
were fruitful sources of popular dissatisfaction, and

repared the way for the Duke of York, the lineal

eir, asserting his claims to the throne; while the
talents which on all occasions he exhibited, the courtesy
of his manners, his vast wealth, his numerous friends,
and his extensive connections among the nobility, gave
a colour and imparted additional authority to his pre-
tensions. Thus commenced those civil contentions
which for thirty years convulsed the realm. ‘“ The scaf-
fold as well as the field,” eays Hume, “ incessantly
streamed with the noblest blood of England, spilt im
the quarrel between the two rival families.” During
these wars the ancicnt nobility was nearly exterminated.
An arrest was put upon the progress of civilization.
Every interest of the nation was thrown into disorder
and insecurity. Men's minds were distracted, and too

* ¢Oricinal Letters written during the reiens of Henry VI.,
Edlward TV., and Richard UL, by various persons of rank or
By Sir Joun Fexy, M.A. FLAS. A New Edi-

consequcnce,.
In Two Volumes.

tion, by A. Raarcay.’

1842.]

much occupied with party objects to cultivate science
and literature, or pursue with success any important
and enlarged projects. Consequently our records of
this period, both of manners and events, are scanty and
doubtful. ‘ There is,” observes the writer just re-
ferred to, ‘“‘ no part of English history since the Con-
quest so obscure, so uncertain, so little authentic or
consistent, as that of the wars between the two Roses.
All we can distinguish with certainty through the deep
cloud which covers that period, is a scene of horror
and bloodshed, savage manners, arbitrary executions,
and treacherous dishonourable conduct in all parties.”

It was during these civil broils, t.e. inthe reigns of
Henry VI., Edward IV., and Richard III., from about
1440 to nearly the close of the century, that the Letters
which form the title of this article were written; and
they are undoubtedly a most admirable and interesting
record of the times to which they belong. They are
not so much the letters of statesmen and politicians, as
it is remarked in the introduction, as of men and
women occasionally of course mixed up with public
affairs, but treating of them only as affecting their pri-
vate interests. The authenticity of these documents
is established in the clearest and most satisfactory man-
ner. ‘They were most of them written by or to par-
ticular persons of the family of Paston, in Norfolk.
The originals were carefully preserved in that family
for several descents, and were finally in the possession
of the Earl of Yarmouth, their lineal descendant, with
whom the male line of the house terminated. They
then became the ‘property of that great collector and
antiquary, Peter le Neve, Esq., Norroy; from him
they devolved to Mr. Martin, by his marriage with Mrs.
Neve, and were part of his collection purchased by Mr.
Worth; from whom, in 1774, they came to Sir J. Fenn.”
Sir John published them in four volumes, quarto; two
in 1787, and two in 178). From this edition the pre-
sent one is taken ; and its object is to present in a cheap
and accessible form matter so very valuable and in-
teresting. The words and their original arrangement
are not altered, but the spelling is modernised ; and
thus the letters are open to the easy perusal of such
persons as would be deterred by the uncouth and repul-
sive orthography of the old mode of writing.

The writers of these letters had no intention of being
either the historians or the painters of manners of the
times in which they lived; and yet they have, in a
very important sense, become both. We hold that
history to be the best and the most useful which pic-
tures in the most distinct and graphic form the human
life of that period to which it refers. The dates of
battles and the intrigues of faction are far inferior both
in valuc and in interest to the knowledge how men
actually lived, thought, and expressed themselves ;
what were their occupations, amusements, and busi-
ness; how they were prepared for, set about, and dis-
charged their several callings and duties; what was
the influence they exerted; how they acted and were
acted upon. To cnable us to form a just conception of
the vast system of human life as it has existed at dif-
ferent times, the powers which have swayed it, the
aspects it has assumed, the springs by which it has been
noved, and the results to which it has been directed, 13
the great office of history. We care not whether they
are public ducuments and records, or private letters
from persons of no historic name; if they give us this
information, or any portion of it, in the same degree
are they valuable and important, and belong to the
best and purest sources of history. As such we are
inclined to rank the correspondence now under con-
sideration. It is from persons for the most part who
achieved no name and no reputation beyond the days
in which they lived, but such aa constitute a great and
important part of the vast mass of breathing and moving

THE PENNY MAGAZINE

107

humanity. Its subjects are principally connected with
the business and transactions of common life, such as
form the staple, pith, and substance of our daily exist-
ence ; with those occasional and rapid allusions to public
and political events which persons interested in such
matters, or in some way affected by them, but not writing
expressly upon them, would naturally make. Human
feelings, affections, and passions, with the things that
excite and move them; men’s scrious affairs; their
substantial interests, their lighter occupations, their
courtships, their marriages, their superstitions, their
festal observances, their conversation, and the like, are
disclosed in the frank and undisguised intercourse of
an epistolary communication. Matters of more weighty
and general intcrest, again, are put before us; not by
formal descriptions, but by the more vivid and simple
method of personal adventure and experience: an in-
dividual gives his own version of the affair, the part he
took, and the things which befel him therein. In this
manner trials at law, proceedings in parliament, with
specimens of parliamentary eloquence, elections, battles,
riots, insurrections, successively pass in review.

Most of the events which constitute the history of
the period are referred to, more or less, in these Letters;
consequently, as far as the references go, they are con-
temporaneous evidences and corroborations of the
truth of the facts to which they allude. In the twenty-
seventh a detailed account is given of the circumstances
of indignity and cruelty which attended the murder of
the Duke of Suffolk, minister of Henry VI. and fa-
vourite of Margaret his queen. Suffolk was sprung
fromacitizen. He bad no claims from birth and blood
to sustain hin in the high position in which his abilities
had placed him. His elevation, therefore, gave deep
offence toa proud and haughty aristocracy, in whose
estimation descent was the first eleinent of greatness.
The hatred of the nobles, his own arrogant and offen-
sive bearing, and, perhaps more than all, the part he
had taken in the murder of the good Duke of Glouces-
ter, the nation’s favourite, conspired to effect his de-
struction. It is impossible for his fate to excite much
commiseration, further than the pity we cannot help
feeling for every one who is made to suffer from deeds
of horror and atrocity. He was undoubtedly a man of
great talents and great ambition; of clear, prompt,
and vigorous intellect; skilful and farsighted in
affairs; and not unversed in such literature as the dav
possessed; but he was base, treacherous, selfish and
grasping, arbitrary and tyrannical, and apt to stretch
his power to the utinost of his opportunities. <A few
days before his death he wrote a letter of advice to his
son, which stands the twenty-sixth in this collection,
alike admirable for thought and for expression. It
touches, with brevity indeed, but with not the less
power, upon those topics which a father in such cir-
cumstances—the Duke was then under sentence of
banishinent—would wish to press upon the attention of
hisson. It demonstrates that Suffolk was like many
others, who, regardless of virtue themselves, are never-
theless anxious that thei: children should have it. The
worth of a good name, like that of other good things,
is better and more affectingly understood from its loss
than from its possession. We give this letter entire :—

“My dear and only well beloved son. I beseech our
Lord in Heaven, the Maker of all the World, to bless

ou, and tosend you ever grace to love him, and to dread
bi, to the which, as far asa father may charge his
child, I both charge you, and pray you to sct all your
spirits and wits to do, and to know his holy laws and
commandments, by the which ye shall, with his great
mercy, pass all the great tempests and troubles of this
wretched world. And that also, weetingly, ye do no-
thing for love nor dread of any earthly creature that
should displease him, And there as a any

108

frailty maketh you to fall, beseech his mercy soon to call | proud men, of covetous men, and of flatterin

you to him again with repentance, satisfaction, and con-
trition of your heart, never more in will to offend him.

“‘ Secondly, next him above all earthly things, to be
true liegeman in heart, in will, in thought, in deed,
unto the king our aldermost (greatest) high and dread
sovereign lord, to whom both ye and I be so much
bound to; charging you as father can and may, rather
to die than to be the contrary, or to know anything that
were against the welfare or een, of his most royal
person, but that as far as your bo yeue life me! stretch,

e live and die to defend it, and to let his highness
ave knowledge thereof in all the haste ye can,

“ Thirdly, in the same wise, I charge you, my dear
son, alway as ye be bounden by the commandment of
God to do, to love, to worship, your lady and mother ;
and also that ye obey alway her commandments, and
to believe her counsels and advices in all your works,
the which dread not but shall be best and truest to you.
And if any other body would steer you to the contrary,
to flee the counsel in any wise, for ye shall find it
naught and evil.

“Furthermore, as far as father may and can, J charge
you in any wise to flee the company and counsel of

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

[Marcu 19,

men,
the more especially and mightily to withstand thein,
and not to draw nor to meddle with them, with all your
might and power; and to draw to you and to your
company good and virtuous men, and suchas be of good
conversation, and of truth, and by them shall ye never
be deceived nor repent you of.

“ Moreover, never follow your own wii in no wise,
but in all your works, of such folks as I write of above,
ask your advice and counsel, and doing thus, with the
mercy of God, ye shall do right well, and live in right
much worship, and great heart’s rest and ease; and I will
be to you as good lord and father as my heart can think.

“ And last of all, as heartily and as lovingly as ever
father blessed his child in earth, I give you the blessing
of Our Lord and of me, which of his infinite mercy
increase you in all virtue and good living; and that
your blood may by his grace from kindred to kindred
multiply in this earth to his service, in such wise as
after the departing from this wretched world here, ye
and they may glorify him eternally amongst his angels
in Heaven.”

‘To be continued.)

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(The Pillom des Halles, Paris.)

THE PILLORY.

Tue public exposure of offenders, as a punishment,
was common in England before the Norman conquest,
and was in frequent use from that period until within

the last thirty years. The Saxon name for the pillory |

(halsfang, literally catch-neck) indicates the manner in
which it was used as an instrument of punishment.
The form of the pillory in use in England in the reiga
of Henry VII. is given in a collection of prints pub-
lished by the Society of Antiquaries; and in Douce's
‘ Illustrations of Shakspere’ there are no less than six

1842.] THE PENNY
specimens. The following cut, from Fox’s ‘ Martyrs,’
represents Robert Ockham standing in the onaty in
the reign of Henry VIII. The pillory of later days
did not differ much from those of ancient date. It usu-
ally consisted of a wooden frame or screen, raised
several feet from the ground, behind which the culprit
stood, supported upon a pecan his head and arms
being thrust through holes in the screen, so as to be
exposed in front of it; and in this position he remained
for a definite time, sometimes fixed by law, but usually
assigned at the discretion of the judge. The form of
the judgment was, that ‘the defendant should be sct in
and «pon the pillory.” °The‘ Pillori des Halles,’ at Paris
(for in France, as well as in most other countries in
Europe, the pillory was in use for many centuries), was
an ovtagon stone builditig, but the upper part was of
wood, and turned round on a pivot, in order that
offenders who were sentenced to stand in it might be
exposed on every side to the assembled spectators.
There were pillories in England which turned round
in a similar manner to the one at Paris.

The punishment of the pillory was liable to many
objections. The temporary ebullition of popular favour
or indignation might either render the punishment a
sort of personal triumph, or a severe and brutal public
retaliation. In 1812a person of the name of Eaton, an
aged man, sentenced to the pillory for an irreligious
libel, was received by the people with demonstrations
of respect and sympathy, the multitude taking off their
hats, and individuals offering him wine and refresh-
ment. In other cases the offender has been pelted
with filth and missiles, and loss of life has sometimes
resulted from the rough treatment of the populace.
In 1759 an under-sheriff of Middlesex was fined 50.
and imprisoned two months for allowing Dr. Shebbeare,
convicted of a political libel, to be attended upon the
platform by a servant in livery, holding an umbrella
over his head, and the neck and arms of the offender
were not confined in the pillory. The functionary, it
is to be presumed, acted from motives of political sym-
pathy, and could not be induced to execute the sen-
tence impartially.

As a punishment for dishonest millers and bakers, or
fraudulent debts and perjurers, the punishment might
be in accordance with men's moral feelings, and it
would have been difficult to have extracted from them
any sympathy for a delinquent convicted of these
offences. But when the pillory was applied to offences
arising from differences of opinion, the efficacy of the
punishment was at once destroyed, and the instrument
‘ demoralised,’ to use an expression of a member of
one of the revolutionary committees in the French
revolution when the guillotine had been for some time
incessantly and recklessly in operation. Prynne and
other men of eminence were pilloried during the
political struggles of the seventeenth century. Selden
narrowly escaped the same fate, and De Foe’s ironical
pamphlet, entitled ‘The Shortest Way with the Dis-
senters,’ subjected the author to the treble punishment
of fines, imprisonment, and the pillory. On one day
he stood in the pillory before the Royal Exchange, on
Cornhill; on de second day, near the Conduit, in
Cheapside ; and on the third day, at Temple-Bar. De
Foe says that “ the people, who were expected to treat
him very ill, on the contrary pitied him, and wished
those who set him there were placed in his room, and
expressed their affection by loud shouts and acclama-
tions when he was taken down.” But he had a more
signal triumph than this. With that lively temper
which never deserted him during a long life of mingled
successes and ill fortune, he occupied himself during
his imprisonment in writing a ‘ Hymn to the Pillory,’
which was very extensively read at the time, and has
been reprinted on occasions when offenders sentenced

MAGAZINE. 109
to the pillory have been cneered by the warmth of
public sympathy. Addressing the instrument which
was intended to degrade him in the estimation of his
fellow-citizens, De Foe says—

‘‘ Thou art no shame to truth and honesty,
Nor is the character of such defaced by thee,
Who suffer by oppressive injury.
Shame, like the exhalations of the sun,
Falls back where first the motion was begun:
And he who for no crime shall on thy brows appear, —
Bears less reproach than they who placed him there.”

The publication of this poem, and its extensive
circulation, must have proved a bitter pill to the ene-
mies of De Foe. We extract a few more lines to show
the triumphant spirit in which it is conceived: the
allusion to Selden has already been explained :

“ Hail Hieroglyphick state machiue,
Contrived to punish fancy in ;
Men that are men in thee can feel no pain,
And all thy insignificants disdain.
Contempt, that false new word for shame,
Is, without crime, an empty name ;
A shadow to amuse mankind
But never frights the wise or well-fixed mind.
* * * * * *
Even the learned Selden saw
A prospect of thee through the law.
He had thy lofty pinnacles in view,
But so much honour never was thy due:
Had the great Selden triumphed on thy stage,
Selden, the honour of his age,
No man would ever shun thee more,
Or grudge to stand where Selden stood before.”

This poem, frequently reprinted, must have hastened
the abolition of the punishment. In 1816 the law was
so far altered that the only offences which were punish-
able by the pillory were perjury and subornation of
perjury, and in 1837 the use of the pillory was abolished
altogether. With other penal corrections which have ,
a tendency to deredcr e character, the pillory has
been discontinued in most parts of Europe. To the
present generation in England it is as much an ob-
solete punishment as the cucking-stool for scolds.
Whipping at the cart’s tail, another relic of a barba-
rous period of criminal jurisprudence, is equally obso-
lete. The whipping of females, either in public or
private, was abolished in 1820; and in 1841, out of
seventy thousand adult prisoners committed in Eng-
land and Wales, only three hundred and eighteen were
subjected by their sentences to corporal punishment,
and these were carried into effect in the presence only
of proper officers within the walls of the prison.

110

THE ARTIFICIAL LIGHT OF RUDE NATIONS.

In the accounts given to us of rude and partially
civilized nations by travellers, we find repeated men-
tion made of fire-brands, formed of a strip of resinous
wood, being used for the purpose of artificial illumi-
nation. The more resinous character of the roots of
many trees, and the use of them, when torn into strips,
for lizht, are illustrated at this very time in the
Western Isles of Scotland, and the western parts of
Ireland, where roots of fir, found in the peat mosses,
are dug up, torn into strips, and applied to this pur-
se.

P The manufacture of torches, intended expressly for
purposes of illumination, is a second step in the pro-
gress. These probably consisted, in the first instance,
of staves of combustible wood coated with resin. From
the writings of many of the carly authors, it would ap-
pear that torches made in this way were very common
among the Greeks and Romans; indeed Pliny ex-
pressly states as much. In the poems of Homer, when
artificial lights are alluded to, they appear generally
to have been torches, Thus the great hall in the
palace of Menelaus at Lacedzemon, which is repre-
sented as having been exceedingly splendid, was lighted
by torches placed in the hands of statues; the hall of
Ulysses in Ithaca was lighted by three brazicrs filled
with billet-wood, assisted by some torches; and Pene-
lope is represented as working her web by torch-light.
A substitute for the resinous wood would be a rope
or assemblage of hempen fibres, dipped in tar or some
resinous substance. When or by whom this form of
torch was introduced, does not clearly appear; but it
seems to have been used in many countries, Such
was the case in Japan more than a century ago; for
Thunberg ‘says:—“ Time is measured here not b
clocks or hour-glasses, but by burning matches, whic
are plaited like ropes, and have knots in them: when
the match burns to a knot, which marks a particular
lapse of time, the hour is announced by a certain num-
ber of strokes on the bells in the temples.”

The inflammable nature of oil was known in very
early agez, and is known in the present day by nations
in the rudest stages of civilization. The Esquimaux
and Kamtchatdales use the same oil as an article of
food and a source of light. It was most probably ac-
cident which first showed that if the oil can be sepa-
rated into distinct filaments, by allowing it to ascend
between small parallel fibres, it can be kindled and
kept burning more easily; the expldhation, by which
this ascent of the oil is traced to the action of capillary
attraction, 13 one of the results of modern science ; but
the fact itself was doubtless known from the first use
of oil as an illuminator. The vast numbers of earthen
lumps dug up in every country which was once under
the Roman yoke, indicate the prevalent use of those
articles eighteen or twenty centuries azo. Beckmann
has collected many allusions, in the classic authors, to
the use both of lamps and of torches at the public illu-
minations of the Egyptians, the Romans, and other
carly nations. There was a particular festival of the
Kgypuans, during which lamps were placed before all
the houses throughout the country, and kept burning
the whole night. During that festival of the Jews
called the Feast of the Dedication of the Temple, which
was celebrated in December, and continued eight days,
a number of lamps were lighted before each of their
houses. At Rome, the forum was lighted when games
were exhibited in the night-time; and Caligula, on a
like occasion, caused the whole city to be lighted. We
are told that as Cicero was returning home late at
night, after Catiline’s conspiracy bad been defeated,
lamps and torches were lighted in all the streets in
honour of him, The emperor Constantine caused the

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

(Marci 19,

whole city of Constantinople to be illuminated with
lamps on Easter-eve.

hatever might be the material or the form of the
vessel, or whatever fibrous substance may have becn
used as a wick, if liquid oil constituted the inflam-
mable ingredient, the instrument was a /amp; indeed
the rude lamp of the Esquimaux and the ‘Argand’
and ‘solar’ lamps of our own country, are but the two
extremes of a chain, the links of which are all on the
same principle. But when the inflammable ingredient
is solid, the instrument partakes more or less of the
nature of acandle. The ‘Natural History’ of Pliny
affords evidence that both the name and the use of
candles were known to the Romans. These candles
appear to have been made of strings dipped in resin or
coated with wax; and these strings were afterwards
superseded by wicks made of a thin roll of papyrus,
or of a common rush from which the rind or outer skin
had been pccled off. So simple is the art of making a
candle, that any nation which had the means of pro-
curing animal tallow, spermaceti, wax, or other in-
flammable substance capable of maintaining the solid
form at common temperatures, would be likely to use
such substance for the purpose, in addition to or in
lieu of lamps fed with oil.

Lanterns or lanthorns have been used in various
countries and from remote times, for protecting lights
from the action of the wind. We are told that Epic-
tetus’s lantern was sold for three thousand drachnis,
and that Diogenes’s lantern was held in high estimation
among the ancients. It would not be unreasonable to
ask which is the proper mode of spelling this name;
but the etymologists afford very little aid in the in-
quiry: one says that the name comes from the French
lanterne, which is itself derived from the Latin daéerna,
relating to something “ hidden;” another traces it from .
lato, a part of the verb fero, “to bear,” because it bears
a light; while those who prefer the name lanthorn
annex the idea of the horny material of which these
instruments are frequently made. Horn lanterns were
first introduced into England by King Alfred, about
the year 887, in order to preserve his candle time-
measurers from the wind. In some places glass, and
in others oiled paper, are used for lanterns. In China,
according to Mr. Davis, large lanterns of a cylindrical
shape are hung on either side of the entrance gateways
of houses, on which are inscribed the name and titles
of the inhabitant of the house, so as to be read as well
by day as by night, when the lantern is lit. In speak-
ing of the interior of the houses, too, Mr. Davis re-
marks:—“ Among the principal ornaments are the
varied lanterns of silk, horn, and other materials,
which are suspended from the roofs, adorned with
crimson tassels, but which for purposes of Hlumina-
tion are so greatly behind our lamps, and produce
more smoke than hght.”

WINDSOR, AS IT WAS.

My earliest recollections of Windsor are excecdingly
delightful. I was born within a stone’s throw of the
Castle-gates ; and my whole boyhood was passed in the
most unrestrained enjoyment of the venerable and
beautiful objects by which I was surrounded, as if they
had been my own peculiar and proper inheritance.
The king and his family lived ina plain barrack-look-
ing lodge at his castle foot, which, in its external ap-
pearance and its interior arrangements, exactly cor-
responded with the humble taste and the quiet dumestic
habits of George III. The whole range of the castle,
its terrace, and its park, were places dedicated to the
especial pleasures of aschool-boy. Neither warder,
nor sentinel, nor gamekeeper in‘erfered with our
boisterous sports, The deserted courts of the upper

1812.]

quadrangle often re-echoed, on the moonlight winter
evenings, with our tohoo-tohoop ; and delighiful hiding
places indeed there were amongst the decp buttresses
and sharp angles of those old towers. The rooks and
a few antique dowagers, who had each their domiciles
in some lone turret of that spacious square, were the
onl rsonages who were disturbed by our revelry ;—
ahd they, kind creatures, never complained to the au-
thorities.

But if the inner courts of Windsor Castle rang with
our sports, how much more noisy was the joy in the
magnificent play-ground of the terrace! Away we
went, fearless as the chamois, along the narrow wall;
and even the awful height of the north side, where we
looked down upon the tops of the highest trees, could
not abate the rash courage of follow my leader. In
the pauses of the sport, how often has my eye reposed
upon that magnificent landscape which lay at my feet,
drinking in its deep beauty, without a critical thought
one the picturesque! Then, indeed, I knew nothing
about

“ The stately brow
Of Windsor’s beights,"—

nor could J bid the stranger

“ Th’ expanse bclow
Of grove, of lawn, of mead survey.”

My thoughts, then, were all fresh and vivid, and I could
enjoy the scenes amongst which I lived, without those
artificial and hackneyed associations which make up the
being of the inan. Great, too, was my joy, when laying
my eye to the edge of the eastern wall, and looking
along a channel cut in the surface, I saw the dome of
St. Paul's looming through the smoke at twenty miles
distance. Then, God be pee my ear had not been
shattercd, nor my heart hardened, by dwelling under
the shadow of that dome; and I thought of London,
as a place for the wise and good to be great and happy
in; and not as an especial den in which

“ All creeping creatures, venomous and low,”

might crawl over and under each other.

The park! what a glory was that for cricket and
kite-flying. No one molested us. The beautiful plain
immediately under the eastern terrace was called the
Bowling Green; and, truly, it was as level as the
smoothest of those appendages to suburban inns. We
took excellent care that the grass should not grow too
fast beneath our feet. No one molested us. The king,
indeed, would sometimes stand alone for half an hour
to see the boys at cricket; and heartily would he laugh.
when the wicket of some confident urchin went down
at the first ball. But we did not heed his majesty.
He was a quiet good-humoured gentleman, in a long
blue coat, whose face was as familiar to us as that of
our writing-master; and anya time had that gracious
gentleman bidden us good morning, when we were
hunting for mushrooms in the early dew, and had
crossed his path as he was returning from his dairy to
his eight o'clock breakfast. Every one knew that most
respectable and amiable of country squircs, called His
Majesty ; and truly there was no inequality in the mat-
ter, for his majesty knew every one.

This circumstance was a natural result of the familiar
and simple habi‘'s of the court. There was as little
parade as can well be imagined in all the move-
ments of George IIT. and his family; and there was
infinitely more state at such places as Stowe and Aln-
wick than in the royal ledge at Windsor. The good
man and his amiable family, perhaps, asa matter of
policy, carried this freedom of manners to a little
excess; and it was from this cause that the constant
attacks of Peter Pindar, in which the satire is levelled

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

lll

not only against the most amiable of weaknesses, hut
against positive virtues, were so popular during the
French revolutionary war. But, at any rate, the un-
restrained intercourse of the king with those by whom
he was surrounded is something which is now very
pleasant to look back upon. JI have no recollection
of having, when a child, seen the king with any
of the appendages of royalty, except when ke went ta
town, once a weck, to hold a levee; and then ten
dragoons rode before and ten after his carriage, and
the tradesmen in the streets through which he passed
duly stood at their doors, to make the most profound
reverences, aS in duty bound, when their monarch
looked “ every inch a king.’ But the bows were less
profound, and the wonderment none at all, when twice
a week, as was his wont during the summer months,
his majesty, with all his family, and a considerable bevy
of ancient maids of honour and half-pay gencrals,
walked through the town, or rode at a slow pace in an
open carriage to the Windsor theatre, which was then
in the High Street. Reader, it is impossible that you
can form an idea of the smallness of that theatre,
unless you have by chance lived in a country town
when the assembly-room of the head inn has been fitted
up, with the aid of brown paper and ochre, for the
exhibition of sone heroes of the sock and buskin, vul-
garly called strollers. At the old Windsor theatre, her
majesty’s apothecary in the lower boxes might have
almost felt her pulse across the pit. My knowledge
of the drama commenccd at the early age of seven
ears, amidst this royal fellowship in fun; and most
oyally did I laugh when his majesty, leaning back in
his capacious arm-chair in the stage-box, shook the
house with his genuine peals of hearty merriment.
Well do I remember the whole course of these royal
pay soles The theatre was of an inconvenient form,
with very sharp angles at the junctions of the centre
with the sides. The stage-box, and the whole of the
left or O. P. side of the lower tier, were appropriated
to royalty. The house would fill at about half-past
six. At seven, precisely, Mr. Thornton, the manager,
made his entrance iickvarde through a little door,
into the stage-box, witha plated candlestick in each
hand, bowing with all the grace that his gout would
permit. The six fiddles struck up God save the King;
the audience rose; the King nodded round and took
his seat next the stage; the Queen curtsied, and took
her arm-chair also. The satin bills of their majesties
and the princesses were then duly sep eye and the
dingy green curtaindrewup. The performances were,
invariably, either a comedy and farce, or, more fre-
quently, three farces, with a plentiful interlarding of
comic songs. Quick, Suett, and Mrs. Mattocks were
the reigning favourites; and, about 1800, Elliston and
Fawcett became occasional stars. But Quick and Suett
were the King’s especial delight. When Lovegold,
in ‘The Miser,’ drawled out, “a pin a day's a groat
a year,” the laugh of the royal circle was somewhat
loud; but when Dicky Gossip exhibited in his voca-
tion, and accompanied the burden of his song ** Dicky
Gossip, Dicky Gossip, is the man,” with the blasts of
his powder-puff, the cachinnation was loud and long,
and the gods prolonged the chorus of laughter, till the
echo died away in the royal box. At the end of the
third act, coffee was handed round to the court circle :
and precisely at eleven the be formances finished, and
the flambeaux gleamed through the dimly-lighted
streets of Windsor, as the happy family returned to
their tranquil home.

There was occasionally a good deal of merriment
going forward at Windsor in these olden days. I have
adim recollection of having danced in ihe httle garden
which was once the moat of the Round Tower, and
which Washington Irving has been pleased to imagine

existed in the time of James I. of Scotland. I have
a perfect remembrance of a féte at Frogmore, about
the beginning of the present century, where there was
a Dutch fair—and haymaking very agreeably per-
formed in white kid gloves by the belles of the town,
—and the buck-basket scene of the ‘ Merry Wives of
Windsor’ represented by Fawcett and Mrs. Mattocks,
and I think Mrs. Gibbs, under the colonnade of the
house in the open day—and variegated lamps—and
transparencies—and tea served out in tents, with a
magnificent scramble for the bread and butter. There
was great good humour and freedom on all these oc-
casions; and if the grass was damp and the youn
ladies caught cold, and the sandwiches were scarce an
the gentlemen went home hungry, I am sure these
little drawbacks were not to be imputed to the royal
entertainers, who delighted to see their neighbours and
dependants happy aad joyous,
. A few years passed over my head, and the scene was
somewhat changed. The king and his family migrated
from their little lodge into the old and spacious Castle.
This was about 1804. The lath and plaster of Sir
William Chainbers was abandoned to the equerries and
chance visitors of the court; and the low rooms and
dark passages that had scarcely been tenanted since
the days of Anne were made tolerably habitable by the
aid of diligent upholstery” Upon the whole, the change
was not one which conduced to comfort; and I have
heard that the princesses wept when they quitted their
snug boudoirs in the Queen’s Lodge. indsor Castle,
as it was, was asad patchwork affair. Elizabeth took
great pains to make it a royal residence, according to
the notions of her time; but there were many difficul-
ties in converting the old fortress into a fit scene for
the gallantries of Leicester and Essex. I have seen,
in the State Paper Office, a Report of the Surveyors of
the Castle to Lord Burleigh, upon the subject of certain
necessary reparations end additions, wherein, amongst
divers curious matters illustrative of the manners of
that age, it was mentioned that the partition separating
the common passage from the sleeping-room of the
Queen's maids of honour needed to be raised, inasmuch
as the pages looked over the said partition before the
honourable damsels had arisen, to the great scandal of
her Majesty’s most spotless court, &c. Charles IT.
caused Verrio to paine is crimson and azure gods and
goddesses upon tlie ceilings in the state-rooms of Wind-
sor; and he converted the old Gothic windows into
hideous ones of the fashion of Versailles. Anne lived
a good deal at the Castle; but comfort was little un-
derstood even in her day; and from her time till that
of George III., Windsor was neglected. The Castle,
as it was wba to the complete remodelling under
George 1V., was frightfully incommodious. The pas-
es were dark, the rooms were small and cold, the
ceilings were low; and as one high window gave light
to two floors, the conversation of the lower rooms was
distinctly heard in the upper. George ITI. took a fancy
to occupy the Castle himself, from finding James Wyatt
the solitary inhabitant of some magnificent apartments
on the north side. The architect gave up his spacious
studio; the work of reparation began; and the king,
in his declining years, took possession of a palace full
of splendid associations with the ancient records of his
country, but in itself a sufficiently dreary and uncom-
fortable abode. He passed very few years of happiness
here; and it subsequently became to him a prison
under the most painful circumstances which can ever
attcid the loss of liberty.

[To be eontinued.}

7h Gerla ear a thousar«l persons every year seave tne
United Kingdom for some one or other of the British Colonies,

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

[Marc# 19,

iu most of which an industrious man may establish himself in
comfort and plenty with more certainty than he could do if he
remained at home. If a man is unable to maintain his position
in society, it is right that every facility should be extended to
him when he decides upon an attempt to improve his fortunes by
proceeding to some other part of the British empire. One
effective method of doing this is the publication by proper au-
thority of authentic information concerning the different colonies,
in order that the intending emigrant may comprehend, as far as
pases the new circumstances in which he is about to place
imself. He should know, for example, the rate of wages, the
prices of provisions, of raw produce and manufactured articles,
and the kind of labour for which there is a demand; and the
climate of each colony, its distance from England, &c., are highly
necessary points to be considered. By legislative regulations
respecting emigrant ships, passengers may be protected from im-
position, and the voyage rendered as agreeable as possible. A
ublic Board, appointed by government, called the “ Colonial
d and Emigration Commission,” has recently been re-consti
tuted, and by its means it is hoped that many of the evils of
ill-regulated emigration will be obviated. From a small
pamphlet which has just issued under the authority of this
Board, we take the following extract, showing to what extent the
public may avail itself of the establishment :—“ The Board was
appointed by Commission under the royal sign manual, and its
Porcine are directed by instructions from the Secretary of
tate for the Colonial Department. The practical duties of the
Commissioners may be divided under three heads :—1. Sale of
Colonial Lands, 2. Superintendence of Emigration. 3. Diffusion
of Information in respect to the Colonies. 1. The Commissioners
are enabled to contract for the sale of waste Jands in certain of
the Colonies. They furnish the parties depositing money in this
country with certificates of payment available for the purchase
of land in the colony, and apply the money to the conveyance
of emigrants nominated by the depositors. They have, however,
no authority to perform this office in respect of lands situated in
the North American Colonies. 2. Whenever persons of the
labouring class proceed to the colonies at the public expense, it
18 entrusted to the Commissioners to see, first, that they have not
been induced to emigrate by publications im rly represent-
ing the advantages which await them; next, that they are of
the description required in the colony to which they are going ;
thirdly, that they are forwarded in vessels fit for the voyage, and
having on board a sufficient supply of provisions, water, and all
other articles requisite for the health and comfort of the pas-
sengers. When the expense of emigration is defrayed by pri-
vate funds, it belongs to this Board, as far as possible, to pro-
tect the poor from imposition, and from the effects of improvident
arrangements on their a and to see that the provisions of the
Passengers’ Act are duly carried out and enforced. 3, It is the
province of the Commissioners from time to time to make public
any authentic information which they may receive on matters
connected with the settlement of waste lands in the Colonies, and
affecting the interest of any description of s who pro
to settle in them. They likewise answer all applications from
individuals, and afford them, so far as may be in their power,
such information as may be adapted to their particular cases.
Government emigration agents are appointed in different parts of
the United Kingdom. These officers act under the immediate
directions of the Colonial Land and Emigration Commissioners,
and the following is a summary of their duties :—They corre-
spond with oe magistrates, clergymen, parish officers, or others
who may apply to them for information as to the facilities for
emigration from their respective stations. They procure and
give, gratuitously, information as to the sailing of ships, and
means of accommodation for emigrants; and whenever applied
to for that purpose, they see that all agreements between shi
owners, agents, or masters, and intending emigrants, are duly
performed. They also see that the provisions of the Passengers’
Act are strictly complied with, viz., that passenger-vessels are
sea-worthy, that they have on board a sufficient supply of pro-
visions, water, medicines, &c., and that they sail with proper
punctuality. They attend personally at their offices on every
week-day, and generally they afford, gratuitously, all the assist-
ance in their power to protect intending emigrants against fraud
and imposition, and to obtain redress where oppression or injury
has been practised on them. There are also government emi-
gration agents in the colonics.”

1842.]

“8

- a ; ss
= ~—

~ * us > x
= cock ~~

{THomsow and his Localities —At top, the Pvet, from a Portrait by J. Paton.
Nasmyth. On the right, Jedburgh Abbey, from a Painting by Arnald, At bottom, the Thames from Richmond Hill, from a Drawing by

bleson.]

LOCAL MEMORIES OF GREAT MEN.

THOMSON.

Ir to be popular, in the best meaning of the word,
that is, to be universally read and understood long
after all temporary tastes or influences have ceased to
act, be the best test of a poet’s genius, then must we
place the author of the ‘ Seasons’ high indeed in the
intellectual scale. His works are everywhere, and in
all hands. Some portion of this popularity may per-
haps be attributed to the circumstance that he is never
too deep for his readers; without being by any means
a superficial writer, his excellencies lie so much on the

No. 640,

THE PENNY MAGAZINE

113

On the left, a view of Kelso Abbey Church, from a eg eg | by
om-

surface, that there is as little danger of their being
overlooked as unappreciated. And these excellencies
may be chiefly described as resulting from an exqui-
site apprehension of the characteristics of external na-
ture. ‘“ There is no writer who has drunk in more of
the inmost soul of his subject. If it be the object of
descriptive poetry to apc us with pictures and
visions, the effect of which shall vie with that of the
originals from which they are drawn, then Thomson
is the greatest of all descriptive poets ; for there is no
other who surrounds us with so much of the truth of
nature, or makes us feel so intimately the actual pre-
sence and companionship of all her hues and fra-

es ™~ 7 r I. x)].—Q
Digitized by (Jo ogk

114 THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

prances. ITis spring blossoms and gives forth its beauty
like a daisied meadow; and his summer landscapes
have all the sultry warmth and green luxuriance of
June; and his harvest fields and his orchards ‘ hang
the heavy head’ as if their foliage were indecd em-
browning in the sun; and we sec and hear the driving
of his winter snows as if the air around us were in
confusion with their uproar.” *

The scenes in which Thomson was born, lived, and
died, were all in fine harmony with his works, possess-
ing the same variety of beauty and grandeur, and for
the most part calculated by their traditional and histo-
rical memories to nourish a poct’s mind. From the
beautiful pastoral country, with its undulating surface
and romantic rivers and woodlands, Roxburgh, in
which he was born (September 11, 1700), and where
he spent his boyhood, he removed to Edinburgh,
where the leisure hours that could be spared from the
University were spent in wandering about the magni-
ficent neighbourhood of the great northern capital.
Thomson had been about two years at this place when
his father, a clergyman, died, and his mother, with the
rest of the numerous family, came to join James, in
order the better to eke out their scanty income while
he reinained at his studics. At Edinburgh the first
rude conception of the ‘ Seasons’ appeared in a poem
entitled ‘ On a Country Life, by a Student of the Uni-
versity ;’ but if the poet had placed much reliance on
this essay, he must have been sadly disappointed. The
next effort was somewhat more successtul. Mr. Ha-
milton, the divinity professor of the University, having
given Thomson the 119th Psalm as an exercise, he
made, though in prose, so poetical a paraphrase of it,
that the professor and the audience were alike sur-
prised and charmed. The former, however, thought
it necessary to warn him that if his views were bound
up with the ministry, less imagination and a plainer
style would be advisable. A little circumstance, how-
ever, enabled the poet to adopt the wiser course of
doing his best to develop the powers God had be-
stowed upon him. Some gentlemen saw or heard
read the paraphrase in question, and made an observa-
tion, which soon reached Thomson's deligt.ted ears,
that if the poet came to London, his merit would doubt-
less be rewarded. But a short time clapsed before
Thomson and his mother parted to meet no more. She
died not long after he reached London, and in the
verses to her memory he describes what he felt, as he
einbarked at Leith for the metropolis, with which a
young author’s dreams of ambition were almost always
more or less connected. He says—

© When on the margin of the briny flood,
Chill'd with a sad presaging damp I stood,
Took the last look, ne'er to behold her more,
And mix'd our murmurs with the wavy war,
Heard the last words fall from her pious tongue,
Then, wild into the bulging vessel Mung,
Which soon, too soon, convey'd me from her sight,
Dearer than life, and liberty, and light!”

The young poet's first entrance to London pro-
mised, as it has done tos many of his brethren, more
than for a long time was realised. He had brought
with him some letters of introduction, tied up in a
handkerchief, which were stolen from him, a circum-
stance that altogether presents a somewhat amusing
idea of the siinplicity of Thomson's character. From
all that we epee hunted perceive of his unworldly
character, it is evident that not Goldsmith's immortal
Mozcs himself presented a much fairer mark for the
wiles of the crafty and dishonest than the young stu-
dent, Scotchinan though he was. His sensitiveness pro-

bably prevented him from sending for new letters; and |

* § Pictorial England,’ vol, iv., p. 800,

(Marcu 26,

from this and other circumstances he seems to have
had some, perhaps a great deal, of pecuniary anxicty.
Johnson says, ‘‘ his first want was a pair of shoes.”

A noticeable point in Thomson’s history is the
number and zeal of his friends; it may also be taken
as an additional trait of his character. He was evi-
dently from a child loved and respected by all who
knew him. One friend had superintended his educa-
tion at Jedburgh; another now took him by the hand,
introduced him to influential circles, and in various
Ways assisted the young poct, whilst preparing for his
first important publication. This was Mr. Forbes,
afterwards Lord President of the Session, commemo-
rated by Thomson in the verses,

“ Thee, Forbes, too, whom every worth attends,
As truth sincere, as weeping friendship kind,” &c.

His first London residence was in Lancaster Court,
in the Strand, but, says Faulkner,* in a room in the
Dove coffec-house, situated facing tht water side, be-
tween the Upper and Lower Mall at Hammersmith,
Thomson wrote his ‘ Winter.’ He was in the habit of
frequenting this house during the winter scason, when
the Thames was frozen and the surrounding count
covered with snow. This fact is well authenticated,
and many persons visit the house to the present day.
‘Winter’ was the first written of the four poems which
compose the ‘Seasons.’ As to the origin of this work,
Warton observes, ‘“ My friend, Mr. William Collins,
author of the ‘ Persian Eclogues and Odes,’ assured ne
that Thomson informed him that he took the first hint
and idea of writing his ‘Scasons’ from the title of
Pope's ‘Four Pastorals.’” ‘Winter’ was published in
1726, but, strange to say, remained unnoticed till the
zeal of an intelligent critic, Mr. Whatelcy, author of
‘Observations on Modcrn Gardening,’ drew attention
to it; the poem did the rest for itself. It soon rose into
reputation, and brought the poet many new friends and
patrons, if it brought him httle money. He received
for ‘Winter’ the sum of just three guineas. ‘Summer’
followed in the next year, ‘Spring’ in 1728, and
‘Autumn’ in 1730. ‘Spring’ was dedicated to the
Countess of Hertford, to whose intercession Savace
was indebted for his life. Thomson once spent some
months at the country-seat of this lady, but, according
to Johnson, he seemed to enjoy carousing with her
lord so much better than talking with her, that he was
never again invited. We must not quit the ‘ Seasons’
without remarking that Thomson adds another instance
to the illustrious list of authors, from Shakspere down-
wards, who have shown the value of continual efforts at
improvement. To the original edition of the ‘ Seasons’
no less than nine hundred and sixty new lines have been
added. Thomson’s ambition now aimed at the draina.
In 1729 the tragedy of ‘Sophonisba’ appeared, with
moderate success. By the critic it was looked on
rather as a moral lecture, in a dramatic form, than a
genuine play, and the less refined part of the audience
having unfortunately caught up a somewhat ludicrous
one,—

“©O Sophonisba, Sophonisba, O!"—
there was often irrepressible langhter where the poct
had looked for tears. A parody of the original,—
“©O Jemmy Thomson, Jemmy Thomson, O!"—

ran through the town to the poet's deep mortification.
Subsequent literary efforts may be briefly dismissed.
He wrote two or three other plays, with more or less of
success, but none of them add to the reputation of the
author of the ‘Seasons.’ The most popular of them
was ‘ Tancred and Sizismunda,’ but even that is now
never acted, and probably not often read. The ‘Castle
of Indulence,’ on the contrary, the last piece published
in the author's lifetime, is only less popular than the

* ¢History of Fulhan,’

1842.]

* Seasons,’ whilst it no doubt possesses for many readers
even a superior charm. This pocm originally con-
sisted of a few stanzas, composed in ridicule of his own

want of energy, and of that of some of his friends, In
it we have a pleasant personal glimpse of the poet,
written, with the exception of the first line, by Lord

Lyttleton, the attached friend of Thomson,—

«“ A bard here dwelt, more fat than bard beseems,
Who, void of envy, guile, and lust of gain,
On virtue still, and nature’s pleasing themes,
Pour'd forth his unpremeditated strain :
The world forsaking, with a calm disdain,
Here Jaugh’d he careless in his casy seat ;
Here quaff'd, encircled with the joyous train,
Oft moralizing sage; his ditty swect
He loathed much to write, ne cared to repeat.”

With what propriety Thomson introduced himself
into the ‘Castle of Indolence,’ we may judge froin
various anecdotes. He was not accustoined to rise
until noon, and when once asked by an acquaintance
who found him a-bed even later than usual, why he did
nut rise, he answered, that he had nothing to rise for.
Another character introduced into the poem, was evi-
dently placed there as a memento of the poet’s fitting
and honourable gratitude, rather than from any pecu-
liar fitness in the man for the scene. We refer to Quin
the actor, of whom a touching incident is related in
connection with Thomson. By the loss of the Secretary-
ship of Briefs, on the death of the lord chancellor Tal-
bot, who had given it to him (and to whose son Thomson
had been tutor for some time, and with him travelled
abroad), the poet was somewhat straitened in his cir-
cumstances. Soon after, the actor, learning that the
author of the ‘Seasons’ was confined for a debt of about
seventy pounds, went to find him, and introduced him.
self. Thomson was much disconcertcd at the visit, and
his uneasiness was not relieved when the visitor said
further he had come to sup with him. It was added,
however, that as he (Quin) had supposed it would
have heen inconvenient to have a supper dressed in
that place, he had taken the liberty of ordering one
from an adjoining tavern. Some bottles of claret were
introduced as a preliminary. Supper over, Quin said,
“It is time now, Jemmy Thomson, we should balance
accounts.” The poet began to fear all this was to end
in some additional demand upon him, when Quin, per-
ceiving his impression, said, “ Sir, the pleasure I have
had in perusing your works, I cannot estimate at less
than a fandred pounds, and I insist upon taking this
opportunity of acquitting myself of the debt.” So
saying, he placed a bank note on the table, and hur-
ried off.

In 1746, however, Thomson's affairs were again
placed on a satisfactory basis, by Lord Lyttleton’s ob-
taining for him the post of Surveyor-generatship of the
Leeward Islands. worth 300/. a year. His residence at
this poe was amidst the beautiful scenery of Rich-
mond; and here he uscd to receive the visits of Pope,
Lord Lyttleton, Mallet, and a long list of other eminent
friends and acquaintances. His tastes and habits in
the last year of his too short life are thus referred to
by himself in a letter written not long before his
death: —“ Retirement and nature are more and more
my passion every day: and now, even now, the charm-
ing time cones on. Heaven is just on the point, or
rather in the very act of giving earth a green gown.
The voice of the nightingale is heard in our lane. You
must know that I have enlarged my rural domain much
to the same dimensions you have done yours. There
are two fields next to me; from the first of which I
have walled round and paled in about as much as my
garden consisted of before, so that the walk runs round
the hedge, where you may figure me walking any time
of the day, and sometiines in the night.”

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

115

It was Thomson’s custom to walk from his residence
in Kew Lane to London, when the weather rendered
a water conveyance ineligible. On one of these occa-
sions, on reaching Hammiersinith, tired and overheated,
he imprudently took a boat for Kew. A severe chill
seized him, which his subsequent walk did not remove ;
the next day he was in a state of high fever. He got
better; but one fine evening he was tempted to expose
himself to the dew, before quite recovered, and the
effect was fatal. He was buried in Richmond Church,
where Lord Buchan subsequently placed a brass tab-
let, with an inscription, and some lines from ‘ Winter.’
A monument to his memory was erected in West-
minster Abbey in 1762. His house at Richmond fell
into the hands of Mrs, Boscawen, a lady who exhibited
her appreciation of the great memory of the place, by
the strictest preservation of whatever had become as-
sociated with the poet’s name. She replaced the little
seat, on which he had so much loved to sit, in its ori-
ginal place, in the retired part of the garden, and hung
votive tablets around it to his honour. There, too, she
set up his bust, with the simple but eloquent words,—

“ Here Thomson sung
The Seasons and their change.”

In an alcove she placed the little old-fashioned table
on which Thomson had been wont to write. Here also
was set up an inscription, somewhat florid certainly,
but exhibiting a correct appreciation both of the poct
and the man:—‘ Within this pleasing retirement, al-
lured by the music of the nightingale, which warbled
in soft unison to the melody of his soul, in unaffected
cheerfulness, and genial, though simple elegance, lived
JAMES THomson. Sensibly alive to all the beautics
of nature, he painted their images as they rose im re-
view, and poured the whole profusion of them into his
inimitable ‘Scasons.” Warmed with intense devotion to
the Sovereign of the Universe, its flame glowed through
all his compositions. Animated with unbounded bene-
volence, with the tenderest social sympathy, he never
gave one moment's pain to any of his fellow-crea-
tures,—save a by his death, which happened at this
place on the 27th day of May, 1748.”

THE PASTON LETTERS.
(Concluded from p. 108.)

One of the most curious documents in these volumes
is a catalogue of a gentleman's library, John Paston’s,
in the time of Edward IV. It contains nine volumes,
each consisting of several tracts or books bou:: to-
gether. The books are principally poetry and sicuion;
with a little history, a little law, a little religion, and a
good deal of heraldry. There are, however, two tracts
of Ciccro'’s among them, ‘ De Senectute,’ and * De
Amicitia.” An accident of time has befallen this in-
ventory, which has a good deal diminished its interest.
It was written on a strip of paper and rolled up, one
end of which, viz. that where the prices of each book
was inserted, having been injured by damp, the price
is entirely obliterated. In another letter we have the
valuation of a clergyman’s library. It amounts to
20s. 6d. As books were then both scarce and dear, the
shelves of the good divine could be but scantily fur-
nished.

In one of the letters a bill of expenses for the tran-
scription of books is preserved. Printing had but just
then been invented, and transcription was at the time
a regular occupation. The price was twopence for
writing a folio leaf; several of which might be done in
aday. For transcribing a‘ Treatise of War, in four
books,’ containing sixty fulio leaves, the expense was
ten shillings. At this tine the common wages of a
mechanic were sixpence a day; the aes of wheat, a

‘ “y

116 THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

shilling the bushel; of barley, fivepence; and oats,.
sixpence. So that the cost of copying a volume of
one hundred and twenty pages was equal to that of ten

bushels of wheat, or about four pounds of our present

money. The actual value of the book would of course

be greater; for in addition to the charge for transcrip-

tion there would be the paper, binding, and profits of
the trade to take into the account. But one printed

volume is put down in the catalogue of J. Paston’s

library. Printing was then in its infancy, books were

rarcly seen, and reading was the occupation or the

amusement of the very favoured few. Nevertheless a

considerable advance had been made on the literary

accomplishments of those times when bishops and

nobles used a cross for their autograph. Writing had

become general among the higher and many of the

iniddle classes; and a taste for reading was begin-

ning to show itself. One W. Worcester is mentioned

—and we are not to suppose that he stood alone—who

had diligently applied himself to literary pursuits, had

“bought divers books,” and was as “ glad and feyn of
a good book as Master Fastolf would be to purchase a

fair manor.” It appears again, from a letter of Mar-

raret Paston, that ignorance in the clergy was begin-

ning to be considered rather discreditable.

But the letters with which we have been as much
amused and interested as any, are those of Agnes and
Margaret Paston. How different from the letters of
modern fine ladies, the staple commodity of which are
the last novel or poem, the last ball, fashion, or play ;
the singing, dancing, or acting of some recent Italian
importation. The Paston ladies write on things pertain-
ing to the welfare and comfort of their families, or about
such affairs, events, and transactions as may concern
them, or in which they may be interested. Both styles
of epistolising are indeed good in their way, because
characieristic ; and therefore both serve as pictures of
their respective times. The education of the softer 3ex
was then very different from what it is at present. No
host of masters instilled into their pupils a train of
accomplishments to be laid aside almost as soon as
acquired, or at least seldom practised after the day of
marriage. Mothers placed their daughters in good
families, where, under the eye of the mistress, they
were instructed in household economy, and learned
the mvsteries of domestic management. Agnes Paston
was evidently a woman of great good sense and
strength of mind, clever in matters of business, and
well fitted for contending with the difficulties of the
world. But her resolution was apt to degenerate into
sternness, and her remonstrances into severity and vio-
lence. She was evidently most anxious about the wel-
fare and fortunes of her family, and active and deter-
inined in promoting them; but she held the reins of
parcnial discipline with a tight and resolute hand.
ifer treatment of her daughter when grown to woman's
estate appears excessively harsh and cruel. She was
almost deprived of liberty, and beaten once or twice a
week without cause assigned. Margaret Paston, the
daughter-in-law of Agnes, with good sense equal to
that of the latter, was of a far kinder, more generous,
and excellent nature. Her good fecling, affectionate
disposition, and attention to the welfare of others show
themselves in every part of her correspondence. Her
solicitude for poor thoughtless John of Sparham, as
displayed in the following extract, puts her character
ina very pleasing and amiable light :—

““] am afraid that John of Sparham is so schyttyl
(light) witted, that he will sect his goods to mortgaze to
Heydon. or to some other of your good friends, but if
(urless) T can hold him in the better, ere ye come
home; he hath been arrested since that ye went; and
hath had much sorrow at the suit of Master John
Stokes of London for ten marks (61. 13s. 4d.) that

[Marcu 26,

Sparham owed to him; and in good faith he hath had
so much sorrow and heaviness, that he wist not wha’ he
might do. I feel him so disposed that he would have
sold and have set to mortgage all that he hath, he had
not rowth (cared) to whom, so that he might have had
money to have holpen himself with; and I entreated
him so that J suppose he will neither sell nor set to
mortgage, neither cattle nor other goods of his, till he
speak with you; he supposcth that all that is done to
him is at the request of the parson of Sparham and
Knatysale. J suppose it is alms (charity) to comfort
him, for in good faith he is right heavy, and his wife
also; he is not now under arrest, he hath paid his fees,
and gocth at large; he was arrested at Sparham, of one
of Knatysale’s men.”

We cannot abstain from inserting an extract from
another of this lady’s letters. It is addressed to one ot
her domestics when from home, and refers to the
placing of her son at the University. It is alike ad-
mirable for sense, taste, and excellent feeling. Her
anxiety for the morals, learning, and respectability of
her son speaks for itself. He was to be “coupled
with a better than young Holler;” but at the same
time she directs, with true feminine delicacy, that “ he
should make never the less of him,” because he was a
countryman and a neighbour :—

o erefore I pray you heartily, if it be no discase
to you, that ye will take the labour to bring Walter
where he should be, and to purvey for him that he may
be set in good and sad (sober) rule, for I were loath to
lose him, for I trust to have more joy of him than I
have of them that be older; though it be more cost to
me to send you forth with him, I hold me pleased, for
I wot well ye shall best purvey for him, and for such
things as is necessary for him, than another should do,
after mine intent. As for any horse to lead his gear,
inethink it were best that ye purvey at Cambridge,
less than (unless) ye can get any carrier from thence to
Oxford more hastily, and I marvel that the letters
come not to me, and whether I may lay the default to
the father or to the son thereof. And I will Walter
should be coupled with a better than Holler’s son is
there, as he shall be; howbeit I would not that he
should make never the less of him, by cause he is his
countryman and neighbour ; and also | pray you write
a letter in my name to Walter, after that ye have
known mine intent before this to him ward; so that he
do well, learn well, and be of good rule and disposition,
there shall nothing fail him that I may help with so
that it be necessary to him ; and bid him that he be not
too hasty of taking of orders that should bind him, till
he be of twenty-four years of age or more, though he
be counselled the contrary, for often rape (haste) ructh.
I will love him better to be a good secular man than a
lewd (tgnorant) priest.”

We might say more about these volumes, and pro.
duce more passages from them ; but enough has been
written snd extracted to illustrate the character and
interesting nature of their contents. The arrange-
ment of the letters in the present edition, the abbre-
viation of those which required it, and the additional
notes epyenace by the editor, are well and judiciously
executed.

Conversution.—There must, in the first place, be knowledge—
there must be materials; in the second place, there must be a
command of words; in the third place, there must be imagina-
tion to place things in such views as they are not commonly
seen in; and, in the fourth place, there must be a presence of
mind, and a resolution that is not to be overcome by failures—
this last is an essential requisite; for want of it, many people do
nt excel in conversation.— Dr. Johnson.

1842. ]

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THE PENNY MAGAZINE

117

oon

(Brigands,—From Piue'li.)

MODERN BRIGANDS.

MopeErn Italy, though unhappily never wholly free
from brigands, has not seen such numerous and for-
midable associations as those of Marco Sciarra and the
other great robber chiefs that flourished in the fifteenth
and sixteenth centuries. The nearest approach to
them, in point of numbers and in boldness, has been
made, not in the Roman states and on the frontiers of
the Neapolitan kingdom in the Abruzzi—that pro-
mised land of robbers, where some bands, however,
have never been wanting—but in Calabria and in the
great plain of Apulia, in the most southern province
of the kingdom of Naples, and near the shores of the
Adriatic. As in the olden time, these formidable bands
were favoured by the political disorders of the country,
by foreign invasion, insurrection, revolution, and fre-
quent changes of government; and from the same cir-
cumstances they were equally enabled to mix and con-
found in the ia eye the characters of robber and
patriot. Though in a very backward state of civiliza-
tion, the Calabrians were living, on the whole, happily
enough among their mountains, and the Apulians on
their plains, when the armies of the French republic,
at the end of the year 1798, after occupying the States
of the Church, crossed the frontier of the kingdom to
plant the red cap of liberty in Naples, to drive out the
old Bourbon king Ferdinand, and to establish an affi-

liated republic, which lasted not quite six months.
Then, while the court retired under English protec-
tion to oe the Calabrians flew to arms. Instead of
a general, the king sent them over a priest, the cele-
brated Cardinal Ruffo, a member of the ancient house
of Ruffo Scilla, whose estates lay in Calabria, and
whose principal castle, until dismantled and ruined by
the terrible earthquake of 1780, stood by the rock of
Scilla, the ancient Scylla, right opposite to Charybdis,
cn the Sicilian shore.

No sooner had the Cardinal raised the Bourbon
banner at that extremity of the Calabrias, than at
the call of legitimacy and Holy Faith—“ Ferdinando
nostro e la Santa Fede”—thousands flocked to it, and
swore to purge the kingdom of unbelieving French-
men and Jacobins, and restore their lawful sove-
reign. Among these multitudes were some men
who were already nothing more nor less than bri-
gands ; but they had arms in their hands, were daring,
active, and better acquainted with that wild country
than any other class, and these were not times for the
Cardinal to be very particular as to the morals of his
followers: it was enough for him that they would march
and fight. Ruffo enrolled them all, and marched
rapidly forward for Naples, where the French force,
under General Championnet, was very inconsiderable ;
and as he advanced, his bands were gradually swelled
by tributary streams that dropped in from the moun-

118

tains. Unhappily this march of the army of legitimacy
and holy faith, headed by a prince of the holy empire,
was inarked with blood and plunder. Ruffo himself
was no butcher, as he has been represented, but he
could establish no discipline among the sudden levée
en masse. and the passions of those rude men, always
quick and fierce, were now excited almost to madness.
We knew the Cardinal well in his old age, and a
shrewd and clever, but most amiable old man, he was.
Wherever a town had shown any attachment or sub-
serviency to the republicans, the Santa-Fedisti made it
run with blood; and murder and plunder were not al-
ways confined to such obnoxious places. The thievish
propensities of the ill-conditioned mountainecrs led
them to commit similar excesses even upon people
who were as good royalists, or at least as good Catho-
lics as themselves. As the Cardinal was passing
through the last defile of Calabria, he learned that
some royalist partizans had taken the field in Apulia,
and were making fierce war upon their own country-
men of the French or republican party. He therefore
turned aside in that direction, reducing on his march
all the broad province of Basilicata, for everywhere the
common pone were enthusiastic royalists. With the
army of the Faith still further increased by voluntecrs
from the Basilicata mountains, Ruffo descended into
the plains of Apulia, and laid siege to the strong and
important city of Altaniura, which was defended by a
strung republican garrison. The Cardinal erected an
altar where other commanders would have raised a
battery, and every morning he celebrated mass to his
devout army, dressed in his purple and full pontifica-
libus. He read the prayers for the dead for all that fell
on his side, and he gave his benediction, with proper
aspersions of holy-water to the guns and,arms that
were brought up for the attack on the disloyal city. All
this produced a wonderful effect: a breach was soon
made in the walls—Altamura was carried by storm,
and cxposed for three days to all the horrors and atro-
cities that in the worst times and countries attend such
a sort of victory.

Other armics of the Faith, each of them including
a certain number of daring and lawless ruffians,
had either taken the ficld before or began operations

now. A riest of the Abruzzi—the far-famed Abate
or Abbé Proni—drove the French from his native

mountains, marched through the Abruzzi and Capita-
nata, traversed the deep forests of Monte Gargano, and
descending from those heights, joined the Cardinal, the
generalissimo of all the arinies of the Faith. A robber
of Itri, a rude little town perched on the mountain of
St. Andrea, near the frontiers of the Roman States,
who had obtained the name of Fra Diavolo, or Friar
Devil, turned royalist partizan, and so infested the
high-road between the river Garigliano or Liris, and
Terracina, that no French convoys or detachments, un-
less very strong, could pass—that not a courier or
Ictter could go one way or the other unless escorted
by a little army. _F1a Diavolo and his men always oc-
cupied the deep defiles through which the road runs
fur several miles: aud while they were hid among
the rocks and thickets, their scouts, chiefly their
women, who excited no suspicion, were posted alon

the read on either side to give notice of the approac

of any travellers. These women, in their picturesque
dresses, were always scen with their distaffs in their
hands, walking along, singing and spinning their flax,
apparently engaged in the most innocent of occupa-
uous: it was pleasant to the eye to mect them, and not
unpleasant to the ear, for they generally gave a bless-
ing to the waylarers and prayed the Blessed Virgin to
accompany them; but too many Frenchmen, and too
many travellers who were neither French nor Jacobins,
found to their cost that it would have been better for

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

[Marcu 26,

them to have met dragons or she hyzenas in their path.
A few miles from Itri, the head-quarters of Fra Dia-
volo, in the same province of Terra di Lavoro, Gactano
Mammone, a miller of Sora, a pleasant little town on
the Garigliano, collected another band, soine of the
members of which had been robbers before or became
regular brigands afterwards. Fra Diavolo was vindic-
tive and cruel, but this miller Mammone was a fiend
incarnate, as great a monster and shedder of blood as
Benedetto Mangone, whose career and catastrophe we
mentioned in the preceding paper. He never spared
the life of a Frenchman that fell into his power; it is
said, that during this horrible civil war he butchered
with his own hand four hundred Frenchmen and Nea-
politans of the republican faction; that it was his custom
to have a bleeding human head placed on the table
when he dined, in the place where persons of better
taste love to see a vase of flowers; and that, when in
his most excited state, he would drink the warm gush-
ing blood of his victims. Mammone’s atrocity is in-
disputable; but we trust, for the honour of humanity,
that there is some exaggeration in these ghastly tales,
although they are told on the spot and also by native
historians of name and eminence. These writers, how-
ever— Vincenzo Coco, councillor of state, magistrate,
and man by letters, and Pictro Colletta, a distinguished
engineer and a general in the Neapolitan army, when
Murat was king—pass rather lightly over the provoca-
tions which had been given to the royalists, and the
atrocities which had been perpetrated by the French
and their republican allics before Mammone began his
war of extermination.

We have ourselves studied the history of these
sanguinary events in the country and in the districts
which were more particularly the scenes of them;
and it appeared to us that all parties were about
equally bloodthirsty, and that there was little to choose,
a3 to the qualities of moderation and mercy, between
the French generals Duhesme, Broussier, and the
native Neapolitan republican general Ettore Carafia,
and the royalist partizans or brigands, Abate Proni,
Fra Diavolo, Mammone, and the rest. During their
bricf ascendency and triumph, the French and their
ee had hunted down the royalists like wild

easts, and had coininitted detestable atrocities at San
Severo, Bovino, Andria, and many other places in
Apulia, and on the confines of that extensive province.
Ettore Caraffa, who was Count of Ruvo, and eldest son
and heir of the Duke of Andria, after carrying the
populous and prosperous town of Andria by storm, set
fire to it and reduced it to ashes, and was extolled to
the skies for his energetic republicanism and his pure
disinterestedness, as the place had once been a fict be-
longing to his noble house, and as he still had some

roperty of his own in the town. But feudal rights
had been reduced to almost nothing long before the
French made a republic or got into the kingdom ; the
republicans had annihilated all that remained of those
rights, and as for Caraffa’s property, it belonged not to
him, but to his creditors, for he had led a wild kind of
life and was as deep in debt as he was in French repub-
licanism. After the fall of Andria, when General
Broussier carried the town of Trani by storm, Carafla
recommended that it should be burned also; and it
was burned with nearly all that were in it, the wounded
and the dead with those that were living and unhurt.
They had in fact inade a hell of all that smiling Adriatic
coast long before Cardinal Rutto had = passed the
first defile in the Calabrias, and Colletta excuses
their atrocitics in describing the losses they sustained
and the obstinate resistance they encountered in these
Apulhian towns.

When the Cardinal was preparing to march with
his now greatly ineicased auny acruss ihe Apenniaes

1842.]

by the pass of Bovino, the French generals and the
republican government at Naples issued such orders
as had scarcely been known in modern Europe, except
in La Vendée. Every town or city that resisted
the republic was to be burned and levelled with the
ground—the cardinals, the archbishops, the bishops,
the curates, in short all the ministers of religion were

to be held guilty of the rebellion of the places where

they dwelt, and punished with death—every rebel to the
republic was declared to be guilty of death, and every
accomplice, whether a layman or a priest, was to be
treated as a rebel and principal—wherever the tocsin
was rung from the church towers, the priests of the
place were to be punished with death—every one that
circulated reports or news contrary to the French and
the republic was declared to be a rebel and guilty of
death; and finally, in all cases the punishment of death
was to carry with it the forfeiture of goods and property
of every kind. In spite of this black manifesto the Car-
dinal continued his march, and, after defeating the
republicans in the suburbs, entered N aples as a con-
queror. Thecounter-revolution was terrible ; the Laz-
zaroni of the city joined the Calabrians and Apulians,
and surpassed them in cruelty; and when the court
returned from Sicily (Queen Carolina was more
king than her indolent careless husband, and was
sister to Marie Antoinette, queen of France, whom the
French republicans had so barbarously executed), spe-
cial tribunals, the axe, and the halter finished the work
which the Army of Faith and the mob had begun.
Several of the partizan chiefs, though of such question-
able reputations, received regular commissions. Proni
was made a colonel, and so was the monster Mainmone.
It is even said that Fra Diavolo, a brigand by profes-
sion, received a colonel’s commission, and, like the
rest, the order of Saint Constantine. But the resto-
ration of Ferdinand, which had been thus curiouely
effected, did nut last long.
(To be coutinued.]

WINDSOR, AS IT WAS.
[Concluded from page 112.)

Tue late king and his family had lived at Windsor
nearly thirty years, before it occurred to him to in-
habit his own castle. The ied at which he took
possession was one of extraordinary excitement. It was
the period of the threatened invasion of England by
Napoleon, when, as was the case with France, upon
the manifesto of the Duke of Brunswick, “ the land
bristled.” The personal character of the king did a
great deal towards giving the turn to public opinion.
His unconquerable perseverance, which some properly
enough called obstinacy—his simple habits, so flatter-
ing tothe John Bullism of the day—his straight-forward
and earnest piety~and the case with which he appeared
to put off the farmer, and put on the soldier,—each
and all of these qualities were exceedingly in accord-
ance with the temper of the times. The doings at
Windsor were certainly more than commonly interest-
ing at that period ; and I was just of an age to under-
stand something of their meaning, and partake the ex-
citement. Sunday was especially a glorious day ; and
the description of one Sunday will furnish an adequate
picture of those of two or three years.

At nine oclock the sound of martial music was
heard in the strects. The Blues and the Stafford Militia
then did duty at Windsor; and though the one had
seen no service since Minden, and most undeservedly
bore the stigma of a past generation; and the other
was composed of men who had never faced any danger
but the ignition of a coal-pit;—they were each a
remarkably fine body of soldiers, and the king did well
$0 countenance them. Of the former regiment George

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

119

III. had a troop of his own, and he delighted to wear
the regimentals of a captain of the Blues; and well did
his burly furm become the cocked hat and heavy jack-
boots which were the fashion of that fine corps in 1805,
At nine o'clock, as I have said, of a Sunday morning,
the noise of truinpet and of drum was heard in the
streets of Windsor; for the regiments paraded in the
Castle quadrangle. The troops oceupied the whole
Square. At about ten the king appeared with his
family. He passed round the lines, while the salute
was performed; and many a rapid word of inquiry had
he to offer to the colonels who accompanied him. | Not
always did he wait for an answer—but that was after the
fashion of royalty in general. He passed onwards to-
wards St. George's Chapel. But the milita pomp
did not end in what is called the upper suadranile
In the lower ward, at a very humble distance froin the
regular troops, were drawn up a splendid body of men,
ycleped the Windsor Volunteers; and most gracious
were the nods of royalty to the well-known drapers,
and hatters, and booksellers, who had the honour to
hold commissions in that distinguished regiment. The
salutations, however, were short, and onwards went the
cortege, for the chapel bell was tolling in, and the king
was always punctual.

I account it one of the greatest blessings of my life,
and a circumstance which gave a tone to my imagina-
tion, which I would not resign for many earthly gifts,
that I lived in a place where the cathedral service was
duly and beautifully performed. Many a frosty winter
evening have I sat in the cold choir of St. George's
Chapel, with no congregation but two or three gaping
Strangers, and an ancient female or so in the stalls,
lifted up to heaven by the peals of the swectest of
organs, or entranced by the divine melody of the Nunc
Dimiitis, or of some solemn anthem of Handel or
Boyce, breathed most exquisitely from the lips of
Vaughan. If the object of devotion be to make us feel,
and to carry away the soul from all low and earthly
thoughts, assuredly the grand chaunts of our cathedral
service are not without their use. J adinire—none can
admire more—the abstract idea of an assembly of rea-
soning beings offering up to the Author of all good
their thanksgivings and their petitions in a pure and
intelligible form of words; but the question will al-
Ways intrude, does the heart fo along with this lip-
service ?—and is the mind sufficiently excited by this
reasonable worship to forget its accustomed associa-
tions with the business and vanities and passions of
the world? The cathedral service does affect the ima-

ination, and through that channel reaches the heart.

n no place of worship can the cathedral service har-
monise better than with St. George's Chapel. It does
not impress the mind by its vastness, or grandeur of
proportions, as York—or by its remote antiquity, as

arts of Ely; but by its perfect and symmctrical ea

he exquisite form of the roof—elegant yet perfectly
simple, as every rib of each column which supports it
spreads out upon the ceiling into the most gorgeous
fan—the painted windows—the rich carving of the
stalls of the choir—the waving banners—and, in accord-
ance with the whole character of the place, its complete
preservation and scrupulous neatness—all these, and
many more characteristics which I cannot describe, ren-
der it a gem of the architecture of the fifteenth century.

Asa boy I thought the Order of the Garter was a
glorious hinges and believed—as what boy has not
believed ?—that

“ The goodly golden chain of chivalry,”

as Spenser has it, was let down from heaven to earth.
I did not then know that even Edward the Black
Prince was a ferocious and cruel spoiler of other men's
lands ; and that all his boasted meekness and magnani-

120 THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

mity was a portion of the make-believe of those ages
when the people were pa Feats upon by the
victor and the vanquished. hen, too, in the daily
service of St. George’s chapel I heard the words, “ God
bless our gracious sovereign, and all the knights com-
panions of the most honourable and noble Order of the
Garter,”—though J thought it was a little impious to
parade the mere titles of miserable humanity before
the footstool of the Most High, I still considered that
the honourable and noble persons, 80 especially prayed
for, were the choicest portion of humanity—the very
“salt of the earth’—and that heaven would forgive
this pride of its creatures. I saw the Installation of
1805; and I hated these words ever after. The old
king marched erect, and the Prince of Wales bore
himself proudly (he did not look so magnificent as
Kemble, in Coriolanus) ; but my Lord of Salisbury, and
my Lord of Chesterfield, and my Lord of Winchelsea,
and half-a-dozen other lords—what a frightful spectacle
of fat, limping, leaden supporters of chivalry did they
exhibit to my astonished eyes! The vision of “ throngs
of knights and barons bold” fled for ever; and I never
neard the words again without a shudder.

But I am forgetting my old Sunday at Windsor,
Great was the crowd to see the king and his family
return from chapel; for by this time London had
poured forth its chaises and one, and the astonished in-
mates of Cheapside and St. Mary Axe were elbowing
each other to see how a monarch smiled. They saw
him well; and often have I heard the disappointed ex-
clamation—“ Is that the king?” They saw a portly
man, in a plain suit of regimentals, and no crown upon
his head. What a fearful falling off from the king of
the story-books !

The terrace, however, was the great Sunday attrac-
tion ;—and though Bishop Porteus remonstrated with
his majesty for suffering people to crowd together, and
bands to play on these occasions, J cannot think that
the good-tempered monarch committed any mortal sin
in walking amongst his people in their holiday attire.
This terrace was a motley scene:

“ The peasant’s toe did gall the courtier's gibe.”

The barber from Eton and his seven daughters elbowed
the Dean, who rented las back parlour when he was in
the sixth form,—and who now was crowding to the
front rank for a smile of majesty, having heard that the
bishop of Chester was seriously indisposed. The prime
minister waited quietly ainidst the crush, till the royal
party should descend from their dining-room,—simil-
ing at, if not unheeding, the anxious inquiries of the
stockbroker from Change Alley, who wondered if Mr.
Pitt would carry a gold stick before the king. The
only time I saw that minister was under these circum-
stances, It was the year before he died. He stood
firmly and proudly amongst the crowd for some half-
hour till the king should arrive. The monarch, of
course, immediately recognised him ;—the contrast in
the demeanour of the two personages made a remark-
able impression upon me—and that of the minister first
showed me an example of the perfect self-possession of
men of great abilities.

Attera year or two of this sort of excitement the
king became blind ; and painful was the exhibition of
the led horse of the good old man, as he took his
accustomed ride. Ina few more years a still heavier
calamity fell upon him—and from that time Windsor
Castle became, comparatively, a mournful place. The
terrace was shut up; the ancient pathway through the
park, and under the Castle walls, was diverted; anda
somewhat Asiatic stiltness seeined to usurp the reign
of the old free and familiar intercourse of the sovereign
witb the people. The state apartments were varuall
snown. They were then somewhat dingy rooms with

[Marcu 26, 1842.

a few fine pictures. During that melancholy period of
the long seclusion of the old king, they were not used
for any purpose of royal parade. The last use to
which 1 saw them applied was a touching reality.
Next to St. George’s Hall there was a guard-chain-
ber, with matchlocks and bandaliers, and such-like
curiosities. The last time I saw this guard-chamber
was on a solemn occasion. In costume, in arrance-
ment, in every particular, it carried the imagination
back three centuries. That occasion was when George
III. closed his long years of suffering, and lay in state
previous to interment. This chamber was tenanted by
the yeomen of the guard. The room was darkened—
there was no light but that of the flickering wood-fire
which burnt on an ancient hearth, with dogs, as they
are called, on each side the room; on the ground lay
the beds on which the yeomen had slept during the
night ; they stood in their ancient dresses of state, with
broad scarves of crape across their breasts, and crape
on their halberds—and as the red light of the burning
brands gleamed on their rough faces, and glanced ever
and anon amongst the lances, and coats of mail, and
tattered banners that hung around the room, all the
ay connected with their appearance in that place
vanished from my view, and [ felt as if about to be
ushered into the stern presence of the last Harry,—
and my head was uneasy. In a few moments I was in
the chamber of death, and all the rest was black velvet
and wax-lights.
C. K.

Mountain Villages of Arabva.—The village of Jennat may give
an idea of all the mountain villages. The houses, built of stones
roughly cut, aud covered with a terrace or flat clay roof, are
placed irregularly up and down, wherever the rocks have left
room enough to admit them. They are often built one above
another, and so, in order to arrive at that which I occupied, and
which belonged to the chief of the village, I was obliged to
mount from roof to roof, and my chamber, small, but neat, and
well plastered, terminated this honeycomb. Towards the south,
the view, following up the irregular winding of the ravine, was
soon siopped by the wall of mountains, the summit of which was
often lost in the clouds, but northwards the valley opened to dis-
close a part of the plain of Taaz, bounded by the distant moun-
tains towards Maammara. This village was inhabited by about
twenty poor families, who, with the exception of a few of Jewish
descent, lived on the produce of their fields and gardens.—Bofta's
Travels; from the French,

Mode of Preparing Perfumed Oils in India.—The natives
never make use of distillation, but extract the essence by causing
it to be absorbed by some of the purest oleaginous seeds, andl
then expressing these in a common mill, when the oil given
out has all the scent of the flower which has been made use
of. The plan adopted is, to place on the ground a layer of the
flower, about four inches thick and two fwet square; over this
they put some of the Tel or Sesamum seed wetted, about two
inches thick, and two feet square; on this again is placed
another layer of flowers, about four inches thick, as in the first
instance ; the whole is then covered with a sheet, which is held
down by weights at the ends and sides. In this state it is allowed
to remain from twelve to eighteen hours; after this the flowers
are removed, and other layers placed in the same way ; this also
isa third time repeated, if it is desired to have the scent very
strong. After the fast process, the seeds are taken in their swollen
state and placed ina mill; the oil is then expressed, and possesses
most fully the scent of the flower. The oil is kept in prepared
skins called dubbers, and is sold at so much per seer. The Jas-
mine and Bela are the two flowers from which the natives in this
district chiefly produce the scented oil; the Chumbul is anothicr.
Distillation is never made use of for this purpose, as it is with the
roses; fne extreme heat (from ita being in the middle of the rains,
wnen the trees come into flower) would most likely carry off all
the scent. The Jasmine, or Chymbele, as it is called, is used very
largely amongst the women, the hair of the bead, and the body,
being daily smeared with sume of it-—Asiatic fournal.

SuPPLEMENT. |

THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 121

CHURCH-CLOCK FACTORY AND BELL-FOUNDRY.

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{Clock of St. Ann's Church, Limehouse.}

ITas the reader ever visited the belfry or the clock-
room of a church tower? An hour may be spent in
such a spot, if not merrily, at least pleasantly and pro-
fitably. There is food in sucha heat for contempla-
tion of many different kinds. e are elevated far
above the busy hum of street traffic, and can forget for
a moment the world and its multitudes, We are ina
room devoted to old Father Time, whose movements are
measured by the work of men’s hands, and whose hour!
progress is recorded in tones which ring loudly throuich
the church tower—progress which, however, Young
loubts our power to value at its proper price :—
“On all important Time, thro’ ev ’
Tho’ saieh at warm aha wise bere aireal, the man
Is yet unborn who duly weighs an hour,”

No. 64],

We have beneath us a silent building whose purpose
is of a solemn and sacred nature, and the invitation to
which is sounded on the bells in the room where we
are standing. The mournful tones which announce the
consignment of a lifeless body to the grave, and the
merry peal which lends its aid in times of rejoicing,
alike emanate from the belfry. We may then turn
our attention to the mechanism by which these effects
are produced ; and in proportion to our comprehension
of the details, so will be our admiration of the skill
displayed in the combined results.

aving recently paid such a visit as is here alluded
to, we have thought that it might be made the theme
of an article not wholly destitute of interest and of in-
struction. The philosophy of church clocks and bells

Digitized by Googk ee

122

is a large subject; but it may be possible to give such
an epitome of the mode of manufacture, the mode of
action, and the mode of arranging these pieces of ma-
chinery, as to convey a few general notions on the
matter.

In the first place, everybody knows that a church
clock is generally fixed in the tower, or in some ele-
vated part of the building; and it is also known that
many churches exhibit clock-faces or dials in four dif-
ferent directions, so that the hour of the day my be
observed by persons on all sides of the church. Now
we doubt not that many who may read this paper have
entertained the opinion that in such a case there are
four clocks, one for each dial or face, and who cannot
conceive how all the four hour-hands and the four
minute-hands can be moved by one clock. There are
also, it is probable, many different opinions as to
whether the bell or bells which strike the hour, which
chime the quarters, which (in some churches) play a
psalm or hymn tune at certain intervals, which are
tolled at a funeral, and which are rung at times of re-
Joicing, are all, or any, struck by the clock itself, or
whether by men who act as bell-ringers. It may
thercfore be as well to state at once, that when a
church tower exhibits four clock-faces, all at equal
height, and opposite to the four points of the compass,
all the hands are moved by the mechanism of one
clock, which is placed in the midst of the tower at equal
distance from all the four faces. With respect to the
bells, it may be stated that they are hung either over
or under the clock, according to the size and general
arrangement of the church tower ; and that the hour is
struck on a bell by a hammer moved by the clock ; the
quarters by siinilar mechanism acting on other bells;
the psalm or hymn tunes by the action of a rotating
barrel similar to those seen in musical snuff-boxes ; and
the tolling and pealing by bell-ringers, who pull ropes
connected with the bells.

There is in the eastern part of London a church
clock which stands at a greater height from the ground
than any other clock in or near the metropolis—not
even excepting that noted city monitor St. Paul's
clock, and which presents four very large faces on the
four sides of the tower. This clock, which is that of
St. Ann’s church, Limehouse, is the one alluded to in
a former paragraph; and we perhaps cannot do better
than make it the text for what we have to offer on this
subject.

The value of room in achurch tower is such that the
approach to the bell-loft and clock-room is generally
Narrow and awkward to a degree which renders the
ascent anything but inviting. The short, narrow, steep,
dark, and winding stairs ; the loopholes through whic
the wind finds entrance in a cutting blast; the small
doors and outlets; the dreary loneliness and no less
dreary echo of the footsteps; the cold and the dust—
all are familiar to those who have ascended to the upper
part of St. Paul’s cathedral, and are almost equally ob-
servable in other church towers, including the one to
which our attention is here directed.

On ascending to a height of about a hundred and
thirty feet, in the tower of Limehouse church, we find
ourselves in the ‘clock-room.’ This isa square room,
bounded on the four sides by the thick walls of the
tower, and having a wooden flooring on which the
clock rests. The light is very limited, and it is not till
the eye has become a little accustomed to the gloom
that the objects in the room are discernible. The clock
is seen to be enclosed in a wooden case, about eight
feet high, six feet wide, and four feet deep, the two
opposite sides of which may be thrown open by means
of folding-doors, thus exhibiting a complicated assem-
blage of wheel-work and other mechanism within.

Our frontispiece is so drawn as to show the gencral

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

(Marca, 1842.

arrangement of the clock and its mechanism. The
clock contains about thirty wheels, some of which go-
vern the motion of the hands; others the striking of the
bell. There are two barrels, from which weights are
suspended by a cord, and the mode of winding up these
is here represented, as well as the small dials for the
guidance of the man who is winding. The rod which
acts as a pendulum (but not the pendulum bob it-
self), together with other parts of the mechanism, are
here seen, and will be understood better as the descrip-
tion proceeds.

The clock is placed in the centre of the room, and a
visitor can walk entirely round it, without interfering
in any way with the mechanism connected with the
clock-faces visible outside the church. It may then be
asked, how are the hands on these faces brought into
connection with the moving machinery? We find an
answer, by observing the arrangements overhead, as
we pass round the clock. There is a horizontal bar of
wood extending from the clock on each side to the wall
opposite to it; and on this bar is placed an iron rod,
which js set in rotation by the clock, and, in its turn,
causes the hands to rotate round the clock-face on the
outside of the tower. There are four of these rods
branching out from the clock in a horizontal position
towards the four points of the compass, each rod go-
verning the movement of one pair of hands. On look-
ing downwards from the clock-room we see the mecha-
nisin by which the clock is set going, and also that by
which the bell is struck every hour. There are neither
chimes nor quarter-hour bells at this church, so that
the striking machinery connected with the clock has
relation only to one bell. Examining a little more
closely, we see that the moving-power is a hcavy iron
weight, suspended by a rope, which coils round a bar-
rel, and that the instrument which strikes on the bell
is an iron hammer connccted with a series of levers
and rods.

Such are the chief points which become observable
in the clock and bell tower of the church here alluded
to; and if any other of the metropolitan churches were
similarly visited, they would be found to contain the
game general parts, modified by the circumstances in
which they are placed. Some, in which only one clock-
face is required, would not have the four connecting
rods branching out horizontally from the clock ; others
would have the bell and striking machinery above the
clock instead of below it; others would be without a
wooden case, provided the room were close and free
from dust; while others again would have additional
striking machinery, for quarters or chimes.

Thus far for the general arrangement; and now we
may attend a little to the manufacture and mode of
action of these several parts. Not the least remarkable
of the circumstances connected with church clocks and
bells, is the very narrow limits within which the manu-
facture is confined. There are, we believe, only two
establishments in the metropolis at which church clocks
are made, and only one church-bell foundry. The
cause for this limitation may perhaps be sought in the
comparatively small number and long duration of
these pieces of mechanism. New churches shoot up
but slowly, and old ones do not have a renewal of clocks
and bells except at long intervals. We have been
favoured by the proprietors of one of these two clock-
factories, and of the bell-foundry, with such details and
facilitics as may he necessary for our present purpose.
Messrs. Moore and Co., at their clock-factory in
Clerkenwell Close, have preserved a list of the church
and turret clocks made at their establishment during
the last forty years; and a glance at this list shows how
small is the number of these large clocks required,
compared with clocks of smaller dimensions. Out of
eleven or twelve thousand clocks made at this factory

SUPPLEMENT. }

during the space of time here mentioned, between three
and four hundred were church or turret clocks, and
the remainder house and musical clocks; yet these
three or four hundred have required mechanism and
manufacturing arrangements so extensive, that we can
easily see why the manufacture of church-clocks should
be in few hands.

Neither a pocket-watch, nor an eight-day dial, nor a
common Dutch clock, will exactly convey an idea of
the construction of a church-clock; for, instead of
being moved by a spring, as the two former, it is moved
bya weight; while on the other hand its accurate finish
of workmanship is wholly unrepresented in the Dutch
clock. Generally speaking the frame-work of a church-
clock is made of iron, the principal wheels of brass,
and some of the pinions and finer work of steel. The
arrangements of the maker are therefore regulated
according to the number and parts of the clock made
at his Sana Whoever has seen a watchmaker at
work, must have observed the extreme minuteness of
his touls and working apparatus ; but such a person is
not strictly a maker of watches; he only puts together
and adjusts and repairs the various parts which have
been made by many different hands. In the clock-
manufacture, and especially in church-clocks, this sub-
division of employments is not carried out to nearly
s0 great an extent. At Messrs. Moore’s factory almost
every part of the mechanism of a church-clock is made
within the establishment, except the rough castings in
iron and brass. In the smith’s shop all the forging and
filing of arbors, bars, and other works of iron, are
effected; as well as the case-hardening of the finished
pic In the wheel-cutting shop is carried on the

eautiful operation by which the teeth of wheels—that
important department of all such manufactures as this—
are cut. In other shops the general fashioning and
adjustment of the numerous pieces wh:eh form a clock
are effected, aided by various pieces of mechanism,
such as lathes for turning brass, iron, and wood, drills,
revolving machinery, polishing apparatus, &c. Those
who are accustomed to factories of this kind will easily
understand the appearance and general arrangement
of such a place; those who are not, must conceive
thirty or forty men working on pieces of metal which
require great skill and care in their preparation.

Without attending particularly to the classification
which a clock-maker would lay down, we will separate
a church-clock and its mechanism into five parts—1st,
the moving-power;' 2nd, the ‘movement’ or going
wheels; 3rd, the regulation, or pendulum arrange-
ments; 4th, the indication, or mechanism connected
with the hands ; and 5th, the striking machincry. Any
attempt to follow the minute details of clock-making
would be quite out of the question, and will not be
made here.

First, then, the power. Every child knows that the
old familiar clock, which has perhaps formed one of
the household inmates as far back as he can remember,
is ‘ wound up’ occasionally, not by turning any wheel
or handle, Put by elevating an iron weight to the
height of the clock ; almost every ehild knows that the
little pocket-watch, whose tickings excite such astonish-
ment in his mind, is ‘ wound up’ by means of a very
sinall key; but there are many children of larger
growth who are utterly at a loss to know what this
winding-up really means. The main body of a clock
or watch consists of many wheels which work one into
another, insomuch that if one wheel moves, the others
are drawn into motion by it. But there must be some-
thing to impart this motion in the first instance; and
this is called the power. We know that if the pendulum
of a comiron clock be stopped, the clock is stopped at
the same moment; and that the movement of the clock
is renewed when the oscillations uf the pendulum are

rHE PENNY MAGAZINE.

. 123
renewed. Hence many persons may suppose that the
penduluin is the source of the clock’s motion. Again,
there are stop-watches in which, by moving a little pin,
the watch may be made to stop; and then, by a con-
trary movement, the going of the watch may be
renewed ; and hence the pin seems to be the source of
motion. But both these suppositions are crroncous.
In both these cases of stoppage, the rotating wheel-work
is checked by a small picce of mechanism, and the mo-
tion is renewed when the check is removed; but the
production of the motion is a totally different affair. In
a common pockct-watch, the key by which the winding-
up is effected is placed on a small piece of mechanism
called a ‘ fusee,’ from which a chain extends to a brass
box or barrel. This barrel contains a fine and highly
tempered stecl-spring, which becomes coiled up very
tightly by the rotation of the fusce and the winding on
it of the chain from the barrel. This tight coil is so
different from the natural state of the spring, that the
latter exerts a powerful pulling force in its endeavours
to regain its original position; and this force tends to
make the barrel in which it is fixed rotate, because by
this means only can the original state of the spring be
regained. When once the barrel is made to rotate,
that rotation can be communicated, by toothed wheels,
to other inechanism. Such is the source of power in
pocket-watches, in chronometers, and in the dials
which are now so much used in public buildings and
large apartments.

In church-clocks, turret-clocks, and common housce-
clocks, there is no such spring as that alluded to in the
last paragraph. There 1s a line or rope, descending
perpendicularly from a particular part of the wheel-
work, and having an iron weight suspended trom its
lower extremity. The iron appendage of course exerts
a gravitating force in proportion to its weight, and de-
scends gradually; but from its mode of attachment, it
cannot do so without causing the rotation of a barrel
round which the cord is wound. When the pendulum
is stopped, either purposely or accidentally, a catch or
detent falls into such a position as to prevent the rota-
tion of the barrel; but this obstruction being removed,
the barre] rotates so long as the weight descends ; and
this rotation is communicated, by toothed wheels, to
other mechanism. When the weight descends to the
floor, or when ali the cord is unwound from the barrel,
the clock must stop; but before this time arrives the
machine is wound up by causing the barrel to rotate
in an opposite direction, by which the cord becomes
rewound upon it, and the weigh: elevated.

In a house-clock the weight is so small that the
winding-up is effected easily by pulling a small handle ;
but in larger clocks the aid of a winch or windlass 1s
required. The length of the cord is proportioned to
the diameter of the barrel, and to the time which the
clock is intended to ‘ go’ between cach two windings ;
and is, in a church-clock, very considerable. At the
Limchouse clock, which was made two or three years
ago by Messrs. Moore, the time of going is, as in most
church-clocks, eight days, and the weight by which the
barrel is made to rotate amounts to about sixty pounds.
The line does not fall perpendicularly from the clock
to the weight, but passes over two or three pulleys for
economy of space. ; ;

2nd. The ‘movement, or the going-train of wheels.
The makers of clocks and watches apply the name of
the ‘ movement’ to the asseinblage of wheels which are
put in motion by the moving-power. Technically,
those wheels which are connected immediately with
the hands, with the pendulum, or with the striking
machinery, are excluded from this group; but our
purpose here is to say a few words respecting the
wheel-work generally.

Almost every wheel in a clock has tecth as notches

124

cut in its circumference. Sometimes these tecth stand
out radially from the edge; sometimes they are per-
pendicular to the plane of the wheel ; sometimes they
nearly resemble the teeth of a saw; but whatever be
the varieties, a glance at the interior of a clock or
watch will show that almost every one has these in-
dentations in some form or other. This is one of the
modes adopted in general wnechanism, for communi-
cating motion from one wheel to another; pulleys,
straps, and bands being inconsistent with the minutc-
ness of a clock or watch. Insome cases two adjoining
wheels work into each other, the teeth of one inter-
locking in those of the other; but in other cases a
small number of teeth are cut in the pinion or axis of
one wheel, which work in the teeth at the circum-
ference of the other wheel; and indeed it is in this
latter way that a difference of velocity is generall

attained. If, for instance, a wheel with fifty teeth wor

into a pinion of ten teeth, the pinion will rotate five
times as fast aa the wheel, and thus becomes a source
of higher velocity. The great point of attainment in
the ‘ movement’ of a clock or watch is, that one parti-

cular wheel shall rotate exactly once in an hour; this,

being effected, the arrangement of the hour and
minute hands becomes easily determined. The pro-
portions of the teeth in all the wheels and pinions is
therefore so fixed as to lead to this rate of movement.
In the Limehouse clock the barrel, which is a solid
cylindrical block of elm, about eighteen inches in dia-
meter, is attached at one end to a toothed wheel, about
two feet in diameter, which rotates with it; and this
rotat ng wheel forms one in a train which leads to the
hourly rotation of one particular wheel.

The manufacture of the ‘movement’ or ‘ going-

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

[Marcu, 1842.

train’ of a clock or watch consists, therefore, princi-
pally in the careful preparation of toothed wheels and
pinions. These wheels are made sometimes of brass,
and in others of gun-metal, while the pinions are of
case-hardened steel. With respect to the factory before
mentioned, the wheels are brought thither in a very
rough state, just as they are produced by the caster or
founder, consisting merely of a circular rim, connected
more or less with the central part through which the
axis is to pass. The whole manufacture of the wheel
from this rude germ is then effected iu the shops of the
factory. There are lathes for giving to the wheel a
perfectly true pene ys by means of sharp steel tools ;
various pieces of mechanism for shaping, smoothing,
and polishing every part of the surface ; and, lastly, a
very beautiful engine for cutting the teeth.

he cutting-engine is represented in the annexed
cut. There is one part of the mechanism for cutting
the teeth, and another for regulating their distance one
from another. At Messrs. Moore’s factory there are
two of these engines, one moved by a foot-treadle, and
the other by a winch-handle, but the essential mecha-
nism is the same in both. A horizontal rod or bar is
made to rotate on its axis with great rapidity; and at
one part of its surface is fixed cither a wheel or a
small sharp piece of steel, corresponding in shape to
the teeth about to be cut in the brass wheel. The
latter is fixed horizontally on a stand, at such a dis-
tance from the cutter that the latter can just reach it
in the course of its rotation. The amazing rapidity
with which the cutter rotates enables it to cut through
the brass with great case, the pressure or contact
being regulated by a lever which the workman moves
with his right hand. Cutters of various shapes and

(Wheel-cutting Engine.)

SUPPLEMENT. |

sizes, but all made of hardened steel, are provided for
the cutting of different kinds of teeth, When one
tooth is cut, the workman shifts the wheel round a
litle, to present a new portion of the circumference to
the action of the cutter; only one tooth being cut at a
time. The extent of this shifting is managed thus :—
A brass plate, lying horizontally on the bed of the
engine, 1s marked with a great number of concentric
circles, each of which isdivided into a number of pre-
cisely equal parts, the number being different in the
different circles. One circle, for instance, is divided
into forty-eight parts, another sixty-four, a third
seventy-two, and so on, as may be found most advanta-
geous. Ifa wheel is to have any number—say sixty-
four—teeth in its circumference, a lever is so adjusted
that a sharp point at its extremity shall just reach the
circle which is divided into sixty-four parts, and as
there is a little hole made in the plate at each of these
divisions, the sharp point attached to the end of the
lever will drop into all these holes in succession, as
the plate revolves. The revolution of the wheel which
is to be cut causes also that of the divided plate, and
the workman knows, by the dropping of the sharp
point intu one of the litle holes, when he has shifted
round the wheel to a sufficient distance.

No one who has not closely attended to the matter
can conceive the difficulty which has been experienced
in thus dividing circles into any number of rigorously
equal parts. All the resources of art shown by Rams-
den, Troughton, and other eminent mathematical
instrument-makers, have been required in the division
of circles for astronomical instruments; and although
such strict accuracy is not required in common clock
and watch wheel-work, yet the amount of skill re-
quired and shown therein is sufficiently striking.

Whether the teeth be cut in brass, in gun-metal, in
iron, or in steel, whether they are in the wheel itself or
in the pinion, and whatever their shape may be, the
cutting is effected nearly.in the same way, and is suc-
ceeded by various finishing and polishing processes
requisite for the accuracy of the wheel's motion. Here
then we may leave them and proceed to,

3rd, The indication, or mechanism connected with
the hands. The dial-plate, or rather, face of a large
church-clock is generally of wide dimensions, as a
mncans of making its indications conspicuous from be-
low. The four clock-faces at Limehouse church, for
example, are each thirteen fect in diameter, with hands
and figures of proportionate size. The hands are
made of copper, and weigh about sixty pounds the
pair. Each hand has, at the extremity opposite to the
pointed end, a heavy piece of copper sufficient to act
as a counterbalance, and to allow the hand to obey the
motion of its axis; this counterbalance is gencrally
piinted black, to render it less visible. The arrange-
ment of the mechanism connected with the hands may
perhaps be understood from the following description.
It will be seen in the frontispiece that at the upper
part of the clock is a horizontal wheel, which gives
motion to four wheels at right angles to it. These
four wheels are connected respectively with the four
horizontal rods which proceed from the clock to the
faces. Each of these rods, which are about eight feet
long and three-quarters of an inch thick, rotates once
in an hour, and communicates that rate of motion to
the axis or pinion on which the minute-hand is placed.
Other wheel and pinion work so modifies this motion
as to make another axis rotate once in twelve hours;
and in this latter is fixed the hour-hand. It will there-
fore be secn that the sole source of the movement of
the hands is the rotation of the iron rods which extend
across the clock-room, and that the mechanism of the
clock sets these rods revolving.

OF the face itself we may observe, that in most in-

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125

stances it is made of copper, painted and gilt in a more
or less ornamental manner. Others are made of slate;
and in sume cases the face consists of a circular de-
pression cut in the stone-work of the clock-tower, with
figures either painted and gilt on the stone, or cut in
relief. The making of the wheels and pinions con-
nected with the clock-face is the work of the same
class of persons as those employed in the ‘movement’
wheels; while the decorative parts devolve upon the
‘clock-face gilder.’ The dev plites used tor the
smaller kind of clocks are very different from these:
in some cases they are made of brass, brought to a fine
surface, and silvered, with figures and inscriptions cut
in the metal by the ‘clock-engraver; while in other
instances the face is made of sheet-copper, coated with
enamel, and having figures and letters painted in
enamel of a different colour, the work of the ‘dial-
plate enameller’ and the ‘ enamel-painter.’

4th. The regulation, or pendulum arrangements.
We cannot perhaps better illustrate the use of these
portions of a clock’s mechanism than by asking the
following question: Why does not a clock run down
in a few hours, when so heavy a weight as sixty or
seventy pounds is constantly urging it? Such would
be the case if there were no regulating machinery.
In acommon vertical pocket-watch we sce under a
perforated cover a bright steel wheel rotating, or rather
vibrating, horizontally; in a common clock we see, in-
stead of this, a pendulum oscillating to and fro. The
mechanism in the first case is known by the general
name of the ’scapement; and however different in ap-
pearance, the object is the same as that attained by the
pendulum of aclock. A spring with a given degree
of tension, and a pendulum of a given length, each re-
quires a certain ume for the performance of an oscil-
lation ; and this important law is made to regulate the
movements of the wheel-work in a clock or watch.
The steel wheel in a watch is called the ‘ balance-
wheel,’ and is governed by a fine spring lying beneath
its but we will here confine ourselves to the pendulum
arrangements of a clock. All church-clocks have a
long wooden pendulum or staff, to the lower end of
which a mass of iron is attached. In the Limehouse
clock, for example, the pendulum rod is about thirteca
or fourteen feet long, and to the lower end of it is
attached a mass of cast-iron shaped like a double-
convex lens, about thirty inches in diameter, and
weighing two hundred pounds. This is suspended
from the frame-work above, and acts in the following
manner:—As the wheels revolve, one part of the me-
chanism gives an impulse to the pendulum, by which
it is set in motion. As soon as that impulse has ceased,
another urges the pendulum in the opposite direction,
and thus the oscillations are produced. But as the
pre from the law which governs its novements,

as a tendency to make all its oscillations in equal
time, it acts asa regulator to the motion of the wheels,
aud gives it uniformity. Asa ball, rolling down an
inclined plane, would move more and more rapidly
every second, so would the rotation of the wheels ina
clock increase in rapidity every second, were it not
that the pendulum absorbs, as it were, all this increase
of velocity by increasing its own extent of oscillation,
leaving the time between every two oscillations unal-
tered. It is this equality of time in the movements of
the pendulum which produces and maintains equality
in the movements of the wheels.

The mechanism connected with the pendulum is not
very extensive. The rod is a plain piece of wood,
squared and smoothed for the purpose. The mass of
iron, or ‘ bob,’ is cast to the required shape and size,
and has an adjusting arrangement by which it can be
attached to the rod at any part of its height. In some
church-clocks, as seen in our frontispiece, there is a

126 THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

graduated arc to measure the extent of the vibrations,
which varies with the moving-power. At the upper
end of the pendulum are small pieces of mechanism,
in iron and brass, by which the rod is brought under
the influence of the wheel-work, and set into oscilla-
tion. The ‘bob’ of a church-clock pendulum, from
the necessary length of the rod, is in most cases beneath
the room in which the clock itself is contained.

5th. The striking machinery. Our clock has hither-
to been a silent monitor. e have offered a few
items of explanation as to the manner in which it
shows to the eye the progress of time; but there is an
appeal to the ear which is equally worthy of notice.
Iuvery one knows that church clocks differ greatly in
the number and frequency of the sounds emitted from
the bells. Many clocks only strike the hour, pie r-
tioning the number of strokes to the hour of the ay
others, in addition to this, announce the quarters, y
two, four, eight, or some other number of bells, all
bearing a certain musical relation one tu another; and
a third kind play some particular hymn or melody at
certain intervals of time, on eight or ten bells. But
all church-clocks, with very rare exceptions indeed,
have a bell on which the hour is struck. 3

It will easily be conceived that if a bell be hung in
a particular spot, and a lever with a hammer at the
end be placed near the bell, the lever may without
difficulty be so influenced by the wheels of the clock as
to cause the hainmer to strike the bell. But to cause
exactly an interval of an hour to elapse between two
such strikings, and to make the eanbed of blows on
each occasion correspund with the hour of the day, re-
quire mechanism almost as complicated as that by
which the indications of the hands are produced. Still
greater is this complication when the clocks chime the
alba and when a regular melody is performed on
the bells, the arrangements are proportionally more
intricate.

In the first place it must be clearly borne in mind
that there is a separate moving-power for the striking-
machinery, similar in principle to that which impels
the going-train. In an eight-day dial, for example,
there is one spring-barrel and fusee for the going-
train, and another, nearly the same in form and size,
for the striking-train. In a church-clock, and in com-
mon Dutch clocks, there is one iron weight for the
going-train and another for the striking-train, each
weight having a cord and barrel appropriated to itself.
If we notice the movements of a common domestic
pendulum-clock, we shall see that while one of the two
Weights is continually descending at a slow rate, the
other descends only while the clock is striking; it is
the descent of the ieenainied weight which causes the
striking of the clock, and this striking would be con-
tinuous if there were not checks to the descent of the
weight. For a large church-clock, where the tones of
the bell could not be clearly clicited, except by blows
from a heavy haminer, the moving-power of the strik-
ing machinery greatly exceeds that of tne going-train
In the Limehouse clock the going weigat is about sixty
pounds, whereas the striking-weight is a mass of iron
weighing five hundred pounds, and the hammer-head
fifty-six pounds. This heavy mass is attached to a ro
which winds round a solid wooden barrel, of nearly the
same diameter as the barrel before spoken of, and this
barrel gives motion to a train of wheels by the custo-
mary tooth and pinion work. The motion, however: 18
checked by a catch or detent, except at the termination
of each hour, when a curious piece of mechanism con-
nected with the going-train releases the striking ma-
chinery, allows the weight to descend, and causes the
hammer to strike the bell. Whether the bell be above,
below, or at the side of the clock, the connection be-
tween the striking-wheels and the hammer is easily

(Marcu, 1842.

made by levers and pulleys; at the Limehouse clock
the bell is beneath the other parts of the mechanism.
The mechanism in immediate connection with the
hammer and bell of the Limehouse clock is shown in
the annexed cut.

(Strikiag-apparatas of a Turret-Clock.)

But although the release of the striking machinery
causes the descent of the weight and the percussion of
the bell, yet this does not determine whether the strokes
shall be one or many. This is determined principally
by two pieces of mechanism called a ‘snail’ and a
‘rack,’ the intricate action of which it would be in vain
to attempt to explain here. Suffice it to say, that the
time during which the striking weight is allowed to de-
scend, varies at different hours of the day; it being
sometimes only long enough to permit one blow to be
buen by the hammer on the bell; and at another tine
ong enough for twelve such blows.

When the clock indicates the quarter-hours on two
or more bells, an additional piece of mechanism is ne-
cessary, which releases the hammers of those bells every
fifteen minutes. If the bells are so numerous, and the
mechanism s8o elaborate as to produce a musical chime
or a melody at stated intervals, then we have those
well-known effects with which the poet and the peasant
are equally familiar—effects which many have felt as
well as Cowper, but which few can express so well :—

“ How soft the music of those village bells,
Falling at intervals upon the ear
In cadence sweet! now dying all away,
Now pealing loud again and louder still,
Clear and sonorous as the gale comes on.”

The merry peal which marks the holiday or the day
of festivity is, as we have before observed, not rung by
machinery connected with the church-clock, but by
men, who pull ropes by which hammers are made to
strike on a set of bells; each man attending to one bell,
and the whole regulating their proceedings according
to the rules of the curious art of bell-ringing. But
where a melody is performed at fixed hours every day,
then are the bells sounded by mechanism connected
with the clock. He who hears the 149th Psalm played
on the bells of St. Clement’s church, or the other tuncs
on the bells of Cripplegate and Shoreditch churches,
must not confound these performances with the ring-
ing of a peal of bells.

In some churches, the bells play only one tune, at
certain fixed hours of the day; in others, there are
seven different tunes played, one for every day of the

SuPPLEMENT. ]

week, each tune being repeated either six or eight
times within the day to which it belongs. Such is the
case in a clock which Messrs. Moore constructed for
Christchurch, Hampshire, about four or five years
ago; there is an octave of eight bells, which play seven
different tunes, the tune being changed at midday.
We believe that at Shoreditch church a similar ar-
rangement exists; and also at Cripplegate, but with
the addition of two more bells.

How are these tunes played? Such a question has
doubtless occurred to many persons, and is deserving
of an answer. If the reader has an opportunity of
referring to No. 419 of ‘ The Penny Magazine,’ he will
find a brief description of ‘ musical snuff-boxes,’ which
will greatly aid in conveying an idea of the matter. In
a musical-clock, as in a musical-box, there is a barrel
studded in various parts of its surface with small pins
or pieces of wire, placed apparently in a most unsym-
metrical manner. These pins, during the rotation of
the barrel, come in contact with small springs in the
musical-box; but in the clock they catch against small
levers connected with the hammers which strike the
bells. Every pin moves a lever with sufficient force
to enable the hammer to strike the béell; and therefore
the artist's object is to place the pins in such order on
the surface of the barrel as to lead to the striking of
the bells in the proper order to form a tune, the bells
being attuned to regular musical intervals.

In the article just referred to, there is an example
given to show the principle on which the ‘ pricking’ of
the barrel, or the insertion of the pins in their proper
places, is regulated. In modern church-clock factories
the pricking is effected by a very beautiful machine;
but a description of the old method adopted, though too
rude for modern purposes, will perhaps be nore readil
understood by persons unaccustomed to machinery.
piece of writing-paper was taken, of such a size as to
cover exactly the surface of the barrel; and on this were
drawn, in a direction perpendicular to the axis of the
barrel, as many parallel lines as there were notes in the
tune, the lines being equidistant and corresponding to
the levers which moved the hammers. They were
marked at each end with the letters or notes of the
gamut which they represented; and, according to the
number of bars in the tune, as many spaces were made
by lines drawn equidistant and parallel, intersecting the
others at right angles. The junction of the ends of the
paper, when applied round the barrel, represented one
of these bar-lines. The spaces were again divided into
smaller parts, for the minims, crotchets, and other notes
in the tune, by lines parallel with the axis of the barrel.
While the paper was lying on the table, the notes in
the tune proposed to be laid on the barrel were marked
by black ink dots on their respective lines, and in the
same order as the bars of the music. After this was
done, the paper was pasted on the barrel; and the note-
lines then appeared like so many circles traced round
the circumference of the barrel, while the bar-lines lay
longitudinally on the surface of it. By this means the
black ink dots were transferred and marked on the
barrel by a punch or finger-drill, and the pins inserted
at those spots. *

But where many tunes are
primitive mode is inefficient. e principle, however,
may be understood from it. The barrels ‘ pricked’ for
several tunes by the modern machine are so connected
with the mechanism of the clock as to shift a little
when the tune is changed, so that the hammers may be
acted on by a different set of pins from those in use
during the performance of the former tune; indeed,
this shifting of the barrel is the circumstance which
changes the tune.

played by one barrel, this
The pri

* Reid, ‘ Treatise on Clock and Watch Making.

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

127

So far we have glanced over the main parts of the
mechanism of a clock; but we cannot treat of the
‘striking’ machinery without devoting a page to the
bells themselves, the vast sonorous masses for the
sounding of which so much mechanism is required.
This will take us from the clock-factory to the church-
bell foundry, of which the only one in London is that
of Messrs. Mears in Whitechapel.

All bells are made of a compound of copper and tin,
and all are cast in moulds. A_ bell-foundry exhibits
an earthen floor, excavated in parts to a depth of seve-
ral feet, and having furnaces in which the metal is
melted. At Messrs. Mears’s foundry there is one fur-
nace which will melt ten tons of metal at once, and
another of smaller size. In this larger furnace was
melted the metal for the “ Great Tom of Lincoln,” the
largest bell in England except the “ Great Tom of
Oxford.” The latter weighs seventeen thousand pounds,
whereas the great bell of St. Paul’s amounts only to
between eleven and twelve thousand pounds. he
new “ Great Tom of Lincoln” (twelve thousand pounds)
replaced, in the year 1833, the old bell of the same
name, which was not so heavy byaton. The thickness
of the metal in bells of this kind varies so greatly that
the weight cannot be judged from their size. St. Paul’s
bell, for example, is much larger than the “ Great
Tom of Lincoln,” but is not so heavy; but all the
weights here indicated sink into insignificance when
compared with that of some of the Russian bells,
50,000, 124,000, 144,000, 288,000, 432,000 lbs.; these
are the weights of some of the Russian bells. (Sce
‘Penny Magazine,’ No. 163.)

Both the shape of the bell and the proportions of
the two metals are regulated so as to produce the most
sonorous effects. There are about four parts of copper
to one of tin. The tin is usually brought tothe foundry
in blocks ftom the mining districts, and the copper is
old ship-sheathing and other fragments. These two
metals are meltcd together in a reverberatory furnace,
that is, one in which the flame and heated air pass over
and upon the substance to be melted, instead of being
applied underneath it. A very large volume of flame
is kept up from a fire of dry billet-wood, and the heat
from this is found to be less injurious to the metal than
that of a common furnace. The metal remains in the
furnace till it assumes the appearance of liquid fire,
when it is ready for casting.

The mould into which the metal flows to form the
bell is thus made:—A rough centre is built up of
brickwork, at the bottom of a pit adjacent to the fur-
nace, the mass being somewhat smaller than the in-
terior diameter of the bell. This is coated with a par-
ticular kind of clay, which is shaped by gauges to the
exact size and form of the interior of the bell; and on
its surface is stamped any device which is to appear on
that interior. This heart or core is then thoroughly
dried, preparatory to the ot ra of another layer
of composition. The second layer is exactly the thick-
ness of the intended bell; and is moulded, by gauges
and other tools, till its outer surface presents precisely
the size, form, and device of the intended exterior of
the bell. A little dry tan-dust is sprinkled on the core
previous to the application of this second layer, in
order that the two portions of clay or earth may not
adhere too closely. Matters are now ready for the ap-
plication of a third layer of clay. This is of considerable
thickness, and is laid over the intermediate stratum of
clay, with a sprinkling of tan-dust, as in the former
case. ll these arrangements being made, and the
clay thoroughly dried, the outer layer or cace is lifted
off the intermediate one, and the latter is picked or cut
off the inner one piecemeal. The effect which is pro-
duced by these contrivances may be thus illustrated :—
If we take three basins or cups of different sizes, and

128 THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

invert them one over another, we may represent the
bell-mould in its built-up form; but if the middle
basin be removed, there will be a vacancy between the
other two. ‘The vacancy thus produced in the bell-
mould is that into which the metal is poured, a hole
being left at the top for that purpose, and two others
for the escape of air as the metal enters.

All this is done in the casting-pit, which is then_

filled up with loam or earth to the top of the mould,
the height of which is nearly equal to that of the orifice
in the furnace. A shallow channel is cut in the loam
from the furnace to the orifice of the mould; the

earth which stops the hole in the furnace is cut away ;

and the melted metal, flowing from the furnace along
the channel, fills the mould.

In some parts of Germany the casting of a bell is
made a matter of much ceremony; the bell-founder
inviting a large circle of friends to witness the scene,
which commences with a prayer, and terminates with
rejoicing. Schiller made this the subject of one of his
finest ballads, the ‘Song of the Bell,’ many stanzas of
which vividly portray the process of founding. We

"may select two, as relating, the first to the appear-—

ance of the pit when the mould or moulds are earthed | / : :
| a little adjustment to regulate its tone.

in, and the second to the melting of the metal :—

** Fast immured within the earth,
Fix’d by fire the clay-mould stands;
This day the bell expects its birth,
Courage, comrades! ply your hands,
Comrades! ceaseless trom your brow,
Ceaseless must the sweat-drop flow.
If by his work the master's known,
Yet Heaven must send the blessing down,

qm
oh

Wh nM
iD BRAUN Ht

MIM |
mei |

: MA
; t
4 ant

is} Wen

| ‘ a Mths

4 {

iia “

Billet of the fir-wood take,

Kvery billet dry and sound,

That flame, a gather'd flame awake,
And vault with fire the furnace round,
Quickly cast the copper in,

Quickly cast due weight of tin,

That the bell’s tenacious food

Rightly flow in order’d mood.”

In our concluding cut the casting-pit is represented
with eight bell-moulds, for the casting of the same
number of bells. We saw these bells cast a few days
after the drawing was made, the pit having been
filled with loam in the interim. It isa sight worth a
visit to see the furnace full of liquid fiery white metal,
the narrow jet pouring out at the orifice, the stream of
liquid fire running along the channel, and the bubbling
of the metal as it flows into the mould. If the bells
be large, only one is cast at one time in the pit; but
several smaller ones, varying from three or four hun-
dredweights to twelve hundredweights each, as was
the case in this instance, can be cast at once, a gutter
being carried from the hole in the furnace to the nouth
of each mould.

The bell is cast in a complete state, but it requires
If a set of
bells are to be made, having intervals of tones and
semitones, the requisite adjustment is made by reducing
the diameter at the edge when the tone is too low, and
reducing the thickness at the part where the hammer
strikes when the tone is too acute. This reduction is
made by chipping away the metal with a sharp-pointed
hammer.

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[Marcn, 1842,

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1842. ]

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THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

129

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“ Like a flourishing young gallant, newly come to his laud,
Who keeps a brace of painted madams at bis commini.”

DECAY OF THE OLD FORMS OF HOSPI-
TALITY AND CHARITY.

We have given (in No. 633) some examples of the
style of living which prevailed in times long past, and
have pointed out the fundamental circumstances which
regulated the ancient modes of expenditure, and ren-
dered the economy of that age extremely simple. With
the reign of Henry VII. commenced those changes
which, by the end of the sixteenth century, had sapped
the foundations of old manners and up-rooted the cir-
cumstances to which they owed their life and spirit.
The advance of the country in political and social im-
| eliter Sok had its influence not only on manners as a

ving form, but effected the greatest changes in the
sources from which they derived their vital principle.
England was swayed by princes whose sceptre was un-
disputed by any party, and the violent conflicts be-
tween the crown and the aristocracy which had once
disturbed the realm were over. The influence of these
political improvements was very apparent. The effect
of social improvements, of the growth of trade and
commerce, was equally signal and beneficial; and it
is gratifying to notice how greatly the combined infiu-
ence of these two causes contributed to extend the
wealth, power, intelligence, and refinement of the
country.

Let us consider for a moment the effect of one great
transition silently wrought by the operation of foreign
commerce and manufacturing industry. These gave
the landowner the means of converting the whole value

No. 642,

OLp anv Youna CouRrrTizER.

| of his rents into money; these he might now expend in

the gratification of his personal wants and tastes, instead
of being compelled to share the raw produce of his
estates among tenants and retainers. The train of use-
less followers was thinned, but the funds which had
te Lage them directly in rude plenty, now maintained
independent artisans, who derived their subsistence
not froma single individual, but from an undistin-
guished mass of ‘customers.’ The effect of this change
on manners is only to be compared in importance to
the fact that it gave social rank and consequence to a
class which had previously been treated with little con-
sideration. The highest classes were scarcely less
affected by the transition. The gratification of per-
sonal vanity in so many other ways than by maintain-
ing a large retinue rendered it more difficult to keep
within the bounds of prudence and economy ; and when
these were overstepped, a revolution of fortune might
be as complete as the violent confiscations which
wrenched away estates from motives of political ven-
geance in a more turbulent period.
The political circumstances of the country at the
riod when Henry VII. put an end to the wars of the
toses, and their altered character at the close of Eli-
zabeth’s reign, would alone account for important
changes in the aspects of social life. But during this
period changes of an economic character were also in
operation. In one of Latimer’s sermons, preached ‘in
the shroudes at Paule’s,” in 1548, we have an account
of the alteration which had taken ae in the course
of half a century, for the battle of Blackheath, to which

P—-. VoL. XI.—S
sOOQIC

\initizan hv
VIGITIZ et VV
Ilion

130 THE PENNY

he alludes, was fought in 1457. It is a very interesting
picture of rural economy at the close of the fifteenth
century, as the following extract will show :—“ My
father (says Latimer) was a yeoman, and had no lands
of his own, only he bad a farm of three or four pound
by year at the uttermost, and hereupon he tilled ‘so
much land as kept half a dozen men. He had walk
for a hundred sheep, and my mother milked thirty
kine. He was able, and did find the king a harness,
with himself and his horse, while he came to the place
that he should receive the king’s wages. I can re-
member that I buckled his harness when he went to
I3lackheath field. He kept me to school, or else I bad
not been able to preach before the king’s majesty now.
He married my sisters with five pound, or twenty
nobles a piece. He kept hospitality for his poor neigh-
bours; and some alms he gave to the poor, and all this
did he of the said farm. Where he that now hath it
payeth the sixteen pound by the year or more, and is
not able to do anything for his prince nor for his chil-
dren, or give a cup of drink to the poor.”

The advance of rent in fifty years, from 4. to 162., or
400 per cent.,is more apparent than real. The coin
had been depreciated. In the reign of Henry VII. the
pound of silver was coined into forty-five shillings, but
when Latimer preachea, the pound of silver was coined
into seventy-two shillings; and thus, as Mr. Jacob re-
marks (‘Consumption of the Precious Metals’), the
pound of 1497 was worth 26s. 8d. of money of the pre-
sent day, but the pound of 1548 was worth only 17s. 8d. ;
so that the real ane of rent was in reality from 5l.
Gs. 8d. to 141. 28., or about 160 instead of 400 per cent.
This advance, Mr. Jacob says, corresponds with the
general advance of prices in all commodities. Still,
ihe effect of such a rise, when it operated universally,
had a very remarkable effect on the condition of the
country, Some time would elapse before it was dis-
covered that the advance of prices was not a temporary
rise. This would be a season of great hardship for a
large class; those who were buyers rather than sellers;
those with fixed income, which could not be increased
until leases, which were often for lives or for long
leriods, fell in. In the interval they would be strug-
eling to uphold their dignity and station with dimi-
nished resources. This is a critical time for things
which are not engrafted upon necessity and utility ; for
cither it sweeps them ruthlessly away, or they are
inaintained at an expense far beyond their real worth.
But there was another class whoin a period such as
the one under seta Ps irresistibly raises into in-
creased importance. While consumers were driven to
the practice of greater economy, the class of producers
Were stimulated to increased exertion; and though
both classes might be inconvenienced at different stages
of the transition, yet, when time had adjusted their re-
spective Interests, each would be placed in a better
ae than at the commencement of the change.

Ve know, from a tract published thirty years after
Latimer preached his sermon at Paul's Cross, that the
Jandowners complained of having been compelled to
give up their bountiful mode of living, and “to keep
either a chamber in London, or to wait on the court
uncalled, with a man and a lackey after him, where he
was wont to keep half-a score clean men in his house,
and twenty or twenty-four other persons besides, every
day in the week.” Those who still kept their houses
open in the country could not, they said, with 2002. a
year, keep up the same style of living, which no farther
than sixteen ycars before (1563) they could have kept
on two hundred marks (1331. 6s. 8d.).

We thus see how necessarily and inevitably the
forins of ancient hospitality inderwent an alteration
during the period of these changes; and they were not
Jess influential in modifying the old charitable cus-

MAGAZINE. [APRIL 2,
toms of the age. The custom of relieving the poor at
the gate, so far from alleviating the evils of pauperism,
raised it toa higher level. The extending field for in-
dustry absorbed a portion of the retainers, whose pre-
sence in-great houses was now an incumbrance, and
the dependants of the suppressed monasteries had the
same resource before them; but previous habits of de-
pendence had probably unfitted large numbers of these
two classes for industrious pursuits; and at the close
of Elizabeth's reign benevolence itself recoiled at the
flood of pauperisin which threatened to overwhelm the
land; but it was not until whips and brands and other
harsh and ignominious punishments had been in yain
employed, that a more rational mode of treating the
evil was adopted. Witha compulsory law for relieving
the poor, men closed tighter the purse-strings of pri-
vate charity. Thus, at the close of the sixteenth cen-
tury, hospitality and charity had adopted the forms
under which they are exercised at the present day,
though, to the writer of the ‘Old and Young Courtier,’
who lived perhaps half a century after the reign of
Elizabeth, that reign might appear par excellence as the
age of hospitality and charity; but the octogenarian of
the ycar 1600 had witnessed a great decline in both.
The Restoration, that period of reaction, when the
Puritanism of the Commonwealth was followed by a
general spirit of extravagance and dissoluteness, was
Po imirkable for the decline of old fashions, which were
lauched out of use or silently neglected.

The most immediate effect of this change would be per-
ceived in the young heirs and thcir imitators, to whom
the increased facilities of converting their produce, or
even their estates, into money, gave the means of
swarming about a court, or squandering their property
and their health in the dissolute pleasures of the me-
tropolis. In Ben Jonson’s ‘The Devil is an Ass,’
written early in the reign of James I., a young gallant
is thus addressed :—

“ This comes of wearing
Scarlet, gold-lace, aud net-works! your fine gart: rings,
With your blown roses, cousin! and your cating
Pheasant and godwit, here in London, haunting
‘The Globes and Mermaids, wedging in with lords,
Srill at the table, and affecting letchery
In velvet.”

In another picce, of about the same period, ‘ The
Staple of News,’ he introduces a young heir arrived in
London, and impatiently awaiting for his ‘ fashioner.’
Throwing off his gown, he exclaiimns,—

There, drop my wardship,
My pupillage and vassalage together ;
And Liberty, come throw thyself about me,
Ina rich anit, cloak, hat, and band, for now
I'll sue out no man’s livery, but mine own;
I stand on no man's feet, so much a year,
Right round and sound, the Jord of mine own ground,
And (to rhyme to it) threescore thousand pound.”

Such were too often the characters of the kine’s
young courtiers, and our artist, Mr. Buss, has vividly
depicted a step in their career. Fortunately these were
only accidental evils belonging to a change in so many
other respects advantageous.

MODERN BRIGANDS.
[Continued from page 119.)
In 1806 the French again took the road to Naples, and
the Bourbon and his court fled again to Sicily. The ¢o-
vernment now established was nota republic, but a most
absolute monarchy, with Napoleon's brother, Joseph
Bonaparte, for king. Then there arose fresh insurree-
tions in Calabria, in Apulia, and nearly all parts of the
unhappy kingdom. The French called all the insurgents
brigands, and treated them as such whenever and where-
ever they could catch them ; but in truth many of these

ee el

1342.]

men were either honest enthusiasts for tkeir old king,
or were driven to arms by the oppression and inso-
lence of the French soldiery. ‘* You are the thieves,”
said a Calabrian prisoner to the French military tribu-
nal established at Monte Leone; “for what business
have you in our country and with us? I carried iny
rifle and my knife for King Ferdinand, whom may God
restore! but I am no robber.’ As in the time of
Cardinal Ruffo, many regular brigands did, however,
take the field, not only in Calabria, which the French
were subduing with extreme difficulty and immense
loss, but on the Roman frontiers and in the moun-
tainous districts of the Abruzzi, Basilicata, and Prin-
cipato. Fra Diavolo was foremost among these, and
being joined by robbers from both sides of the frontier,
from the Roman states as well as from the kingdom, he
inflicted in the course of a few months an incalculable
amount of mischief on the French, frustrating all
their attempts to surprise and seize him. In Apulia,
three brothers of the name of Vardarelli, who had been
robbers on a smaller scale before, collected a very nu-
merous band, and maintained themselves for twelve
* years, until Bonaparte and all the dynasties he had
established had been swept away. One of the chief
scenes of their exploits was the valley of the bridge of
Bovino, a long narrow pass, through which runs the
only road from Naples to the plains of Apulia, the pro-
vinces of Bari, Lecce, Otranto, &c. They seldom, if
ever, condescended to attack common travellers; but
they plundered the government procaccie or mails, the
French officers, employés, and revenue collectors, and
they lived at large upon the farmers and agents of the
nobility and great landed proprietors, who were com-
geet to furnish thei with meat and drink, and forage
or their horses, being besides occasionally compelled to
pay a sort of black-mail in hard cash. Their numbers
were never precisely known, but it is supposed that
the Vardarelli band was at times two hundred strong.
They were for the most part well armed and accoutred,
and excellently mounted. Under other circumstances,
Don Gaetano, as the eldest of the three brothers was
called by courtesy, might have become a great general.
He maintained the strictest discipline among his law-
less troops; he was active and acute to a marvellous
degree; his strategy foiled the best officers that were
sent against him; he was never surprised himself; and
the surprises and manceuvres he concerted were sel-
dom known to fail. He had none of the ferocity of
Mammone, and his band was freer from the guilt of
blood than ever Italian banditti had been before them,
excepting only the Abruzzi bands of Marco Sciarra.
His range of country was very wide; for when hard
pressed in the valley of Bovino and Apulia, he struck
away into the forests of Monte Gargano, and to the
borders of Abruzzi, or, taking the opposite dircction,
he scaled the mountains of Basilicata, and lay con-
cealed in the almost inaccessible woods and wilds of
that province, where roads were unknown, and the few
bridle-paths are of the roughest description.

The most famed of the brigands that kept their
ground in Calabria, but not for so long a time as the
Vardarelli in Apulia, were Francatripa, Benincasa,
Parafante, and Scarolla. Francatripa alone cost the
French army, under Marshal Massena, more lives than
many a pitched battle had done in other countries.
Like Benincasa, he kept his head-quarters in_ the
almost impenetrable forest of Saint Euphemia, in the
midst of swamps, bogs, and labyrinths, to which only
he and his men had the correct clue. Making several
fruitless attempts to surprise this wary old robber, the
French bought over soine of Francatripa’s band, who
engazed to deliver him into their hands, dead or alive ;
but Prancatripa had the address and guod fortune to
save himself even from the treachery of his own men,

THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 131

and to escape acro3s {he narrow Strait of Messina into
Sicily, Seal with him, as was said, a considerable
treasure. Parafante, who collected part of Franca-
tripa’s scattered band and united it to his own, was
still more troublesome to the French, who were never
able to destroy or take him. It appears doubtful
whether Scarolla was a real brigand or a partisan.
Queen Carolina, from Sicily, had supplied him with
arms, uniforms, and money; and many of the Cala-
brians and the mountaineers from Basilicata, who ral-
hed round the Bourbon standard he hoisted, had
always passed for honest men. He styled himself
“ Chief of the Independents of Basilicata,” and issued
his orders and his manifestos like a general of a con-
quering army. A French moveable column surprised
and defcated him in a deep glen among the moun-
tains of Syla, but he retreated without any great
loss through the Calabrias, followed by the French
column, who could never again come up with him.
Keeping among the mountains, he traversed the whole
kingdom, descended trom the Abruzzi into the States
of the Church, and established hiinself on the steep
heights of Monte Pelino. ere they fancied them-
selves in perfect security for the present, and they de-
termined to rest awhile in order to recover from the
extraordinary fatigue they had undergone. Another
moveable French column, employed on altogether dif-
ferent business, stumbled upon them by mere chance
as they were lying asleep on the ground. The greater
part of thei were shot or bayoneted upon the spot;
and the remainder ficd in all directions. The French
soldiers obtained so considerable a booty, that it is said
aa were seen playing at pitch and toss with Spanish
dollars and gold doubloons. Scarolla himself did not
fall; but he was so severely wounded as to be obliged
to take refuge with some shepherds, who, for the pro-
mised reward of a thousand ducats, gave him up to the
French. He was hanged shortly after. Fra Diavolo
had finished his career some time before this. After
hairbreadth escapes innumerable, after setting both
civil and military authorities at defiance, after having
long impressed the people with the notion that he was
invulnerable and must be ubiquitous, for he seemed to
be here, there, and everywhere almost at the same
moment, he was foully betrayed by some of his own
brizands, and marched off in the midst of a regiment
of French gens-d’armes to Naples. Though covered
with uncured wounds, though exhausted by the fatigue
of a long and rapid march, with certain death staring
him in the face at the end of it, he did not lose heart
and courage; he taunted the French with the recol-
lection of the mischief he had done them, and of the
numerous occasions on which he had fooled them. As
he approached the capital, thousands flocked out to sce
him. King Joseph himself was curious to behold the
man who had for so many months filled the kingdom
with his renown; and he rather unfcelingly ordered
that he should be brought out to him at Portici. Fra
Diavolo was accordingly made to turn back on the
road to that royal dwelling. He was promenaded
under a balcony of the palace, whence Joseph satisfied
his curiosity, and then ordered him to prison and to
execution. To the Special Tribunal, which went into
no trial beyond proving his identity, he pleaded the
colonel’s commission he held, or said he held, from
King Ferdinand; but no attention was paid to this
plea, and he was presently beheaded in the open space
outside the Capua gate. To this day his name is sel-
dom pronounced by the common people of Naplcs
without a feeling of awe and terror.*

* MacFarlane, ‘Lives of Banditti and Robbers.” Vineen2
Cico, § History of the Neapolitan Revolution of 1799." General
Colletta, ‘History of the Kingdom of Naples from 1724 to
1825.” * Letters on Calabria,’ by a French Ofticer.

Be A

132

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

[Apruiy 2,

= | \ D

{Natives of New Zealand.—From Captain Fitzroy’s ‘ Voyages of the Adventure and Beagle.’]

In former Numbers (410 and 422) we have given very
ample accounts of the discovery of New Zealand and
the early intercourse of Europeans with that country,
the progress of its subsequent settlement, and the ad
vantages which it presented as a field of colonization.
Since those accounts were written (in 1838) New
Zealand has become a part of the British empire, and
the scattered settlements which had been formed with-
out any legal sanction have become subject to the laws
of England; new colonies of Englishmen have been
slanted, and very extensive plans have been adopted
or maintaining a constant influx of labour and capital
from the United Kingdom. A bishop of New Zealand
has been appointed, though the creation of the see was
not directly made by the government. In February,
1840, a newspaper, called the ‘ New Zealand Journal,’
was established in London, and has since been re-
coy published every alternate week, for the pur-
pose of supplying information respecting the progress
of the new settlements to a large class in England who
are earnestly interested in their success, and who have
formed local associations in various parts of the king-
dam to extend the interests of New Zealand coloniza-
tion. Several newspapers are already published in the

northern island. Thus, within the last tour years New
Zealand has become the scene of very important events,
and perhaps the foundation of a new Anglo- Australasian
empire has been laid whose future career cannot be
contemplated without feelings of the deepest interest.
For the last forty years or more New Zealand had
been resorted to by many Europeans and by colonists
from New South Wales and Van Diemen’s Land.
They established whaling-stations along different parts
f the coast, or settled in situations where supplies of
flax and timber could be procured, their numbers
being increased by runaway seamen and convicts,
who, to escape detection, often joined some of the
native tribes. At length this isolated foreign popula-
tion amounted to a larger number than could safely be
left without the restraints of law; and in 1825 an asso-
ciation formed in London urged the government to
undertake the colonization of the country; but this
object was not at that time accomplished. A few years
afterwards the British government acknowledged the
independence of the New Zealanders; a flag was pre-
sented to them in token of their sovereignty, and a
resident official agent was accredited, though his
powers did not extend to the enforcement of any re-

Digitized by Google

1822.] THE PENNY
olice. The evils of irregular set-
tlement by persons frequently of lawless and abandoned
character were not diminished by this step. In 1839
the Association of 1825 was revived, and through its
exertions a very general interest was excited on the
subject of New Zealand colonization. After much
opposition the Association received a charter of incor-
poration as the New Zealand Land Company, but the
government declined to take any steps in furtherance
of the scttlement of the country. Undeterred by the
absence of official sanction, a large body of emigrants
left England for the purpose of forming a colony under
the auspices of the New Zealand Company, and in
February, 1840, they arrived at their destination. By
the end of November, 1841, the total number of emi-
rants who had left the United Kingdom for New
Zealand was 6352; and by this time three colonies have
been planted, the oldest being that of Wellington, at
Port Nicholson, in Cook’s Straits; New Plymouth, on
the western side of the northern island; and Nelson,
the site of which is not yet known in this country. The
systematic spirit in which emigration was now likely to
flow towards New Zealand decided the government
upon coming forward, and in the first instance New
Zealand was declared a dependency of New South
Wales, and afterwards erected into a distinct British
territory dependent on the mother-country alone.
Directions were given for investigating the titles to
land, which were only to become valid in the propor-
tion of four acres to every pound sterling which it
could be proved had been spent on the property. The
‘land sharks,’ who had purchased thousands of acres
from the natives, often for a few articles of trifling
value, were thus disappointed of their expected har-
vest, and the rights of the natives will in future be
adequately protected. Jn the three settlements formed
by the New Zealand Company reserves of land have
been made for the native population. This just and
humane regulation is greatly to be praised, and is an
obvious improvement on the wanton spirit in which
the claims of the aboriginal inhabitants of other co-
lonies were usually disregarded.

There does not appear to be the smallest reason to
doubt that the transference of the sovereignty of New
Zealand to a civilized people will prove beneficial to
the native population. Even during the period of
irregular settlement, when they were too often brought
into contact with lawless vagabonds, the effect was on
the whole beneficial to many of the processes of civili-
zation. The natives acquired arts which they were
incapable of attaining without such assistance. The
settlers, composed of men belonging to whaling sta-
tions, sawyers, seamen, and runaway convicts, generally
married native women, and they could not live without
industry. Under such circumstances it was impossible
that some traits of a higher system of religion and
morality than that to which the New Zealanders had
been accustomed should not occasionally be exhibited,
even by men whose general lives were too often vicious
and immoral. The introduction of gunpowder and
fire-arms rendered the conflicts of hostile tribes less
sanguinary, diminished the frequency of wars, and left
leisure for better pursuits.

The New Zealanders have not become the slaves of
ardent spirits like the North American Indians; they
refuse to taste them; and will very seldom submit to
teceive them in payment for their services. Cannibal-
ism is not now practised, the efforts of the missionaries
having been successful in putting a stop to it, and to
the same influence is to be ascribed the relinquishment
of some of their worst superstitions. Dr. Dieffen-
bach, the able naturalist and physiologist attached to
the New Zealand Company, says that infanticide is
still practised when the children are born with some

rulations of law or

MAGAZINE. 133
deformity. The paramount influence of a civilized
community is creating a change in the native habits
and customs, which will soon bring these people into a
closer affinity with the colonial population, and all ac-
counts concur in proving that the amalgamation of the
two races will be complete in the course of a very few
generations. So fortunate a circumstance has not been
experienced by any other aborigines during the pro-
gress of modern colonization, as they have in all cases
either been exterminated, driven beyond the frontiers of
civilization, or converted into slaves. Ina few places,
where the oldest irregular settlements were fixed,
the intermixture is already complete, and the blended
race is spoken of by competent judges as possessed of
very superior natural ertdowments both mental and
bodily, being well-formed, of good constitution, good
looking, healthy, and of lively and active disposition.
Education is alone required to raise them toa high posi-
tion in the scale of existence. The children speak both
the native and the English language. Mr. Jameson, a
medical gentleman, who recently visited New Zealand,
Says that the native women often “acquire over the
rude and reckless sailors and sawycrs, with whom the
are connected, an absolute dominion and ascendency ;”
and Dr. Dieffenbach states that the Europeans “ treat
their native wives well, and the latter adhere to them
with great affection.”

The natives employed by Europcans are almost all
dressed in apparcl of British manufacture, and the ‘mat,’
which was so characteristic a part of their former cos-
tume, is superseded by the blanket. A mat could not be
manufactured in much less time than two months, buta
blanket may be obtained in exchange for a pig caught
in the woods, or for potatoes or other roots and vege-
tables from the native garden. The natives supply
shipping with abundance of potatoes, maize, cabbagces,
turnips, onions, and wild pigs, recciving in exchange
blankets, hardware, earthenware, cotton, linen, and
woollen goods, clothing, tobacco, tea, spirits, sugar,
tobacco-pipes, &c.; and as the possession of one foreign
luxury leads to the desire of others, the time which
was once occupied in listlessness and sloth, or in sa-
vage warfare, is now devoted to the acquisition of
things which conduce to comfort, and are calculated to
imbue them with the tastes of civilized life. Mr
Jameson states that the native consumption of Euro-
pean goods is valued at 100,000/. a year. The example
of the most respectable colonists, whom the natives
see engaged in various kinds of labour, has induced
even the chiefs to apply themselves to occupations
which they formerly disdained. It must not be under-
stood that habits of continuous labour have been ac-
quired to the extent which is common in England ;
neither is this essential to their advancement; nor, if
it were, could it be expected. Two centuries ago, or
rather more, the English were far from being distin-
guished for their orderly and industrious habits.
Farming and gardening appear to be the occupations
for which the New Zealanders manifest the greatest
predilection, and their cultivated grounds are fenced
and kept with the utmost neatness. They build houses
for Europeans, and have, without any assistance, erected
flax-warehouses one hundred feet long by thirty feet
wide, and forty feet high. Their ingenuity as carvers
in wood-work attracted notice when New Zealand was
first discovered; but their talent has now a wider
scope, and they show a disposition to excel as carpen-
ters, joiners, cabinet-makers, and blacksmiths. At
some of the whaling-stations one-third of the boats’
crews are natives, and are as bold and skilful as Euro-
peans, while in sobriety and frugality they far surpass
them. It is stated that some hundreds of natives are
employed as seamen on board English, American, and
French ships in the South Seas. Occasionally they are

134

employed as pedlers, taking goods for barter in the in-
terior; and they are said to be very fond of dealing and
trading, and to be excellent bargainers. A people with
these various qualities cannot sink to a low state of ex-
istence in the midst of a society which is eager to ren-
der their services of mutual advantage, and where

ublic guarantees are given for their protection and
linprovement.

AMERICAN SAW-MILLS. |

{From a Correspondcnt.]}

In all new countries abounding with forests, as is the
case in most parts of the continent of North America,
saw-mills are almost as necessary to the well-being of
every little settlement as mills for grinding corn. It
is true that the axe in the hands of an American
accustomed to living in the woods is often used in
lace of the saw; for where timber is of so little value,
it is customary, where a small quantity of planking or
scantling is required, to hew the timber into the proper
shape.
hen the woods are surveyed and marked out into
allotments of the customary extent, wherever there are
streams of sufficient size to put in motion the ma-
chinery of grist or saw mills, and convenient sites for
such buildings, the places are noted in the field-book
kept by the surveyor, and the owner of the lands con-
siders such lots more valuable than the rest, and con-
sequently puts a higher price upon them. Something
of course depends upon the nature of the country in
this respect, for where mill-sites abound, the value of
the lots of land containing them is not so much en-
hanced as where they are scarce. It very commonly
happens that the beavers have, by constructing their
dams, pointed out to the human race the very best
situations for mill-dams and mill-seats; and we ac-
cordingly find many of the saw-mills and grist-mills
situated at the outlet of a beaver-meadow.

_The first saw-mills usually erected in newly settled
districts are of the rudest description; for if they are
only intended to supply the wants of the immcdiate
neighbourhood with boards, planks, &c., the demand
would scarcely be sufficient to warrant any great out-
lay of money or labour. Where the stream is navi-
gable for rafts, the surplus sawed timber may be
formed into rafts, and so sent to a distant market.
Hence it is that even in the wilderness, beyond the ex-
treme limits to which the new settlements have ex-
tended, saw-mills are sometimes erected on the large
crecks and streams where there happens to be an
abundance of forest-trees adapted for the market.
Most of the saw-mills have but one saw, which, if in
ood order, and propelled by sufficicnt water-power,
during the twenty-four hours (for they are frequently
kept going night and day, particularly where the
supply of water is not permanent during the warm and
dry seasons) will produce upwards of four thousand
feet of boards, superficial measure. Boards, at these
saw-mills, commonly fetch from four to ten dollars per
thonsand feet. The mill, if well roofed in (many of
them having no roof at all), and otherwise made
tolerably strong and substantial, seldom costs more
than 200 dollars, or under 45/. sterling; and there is
also the labour of cutting down the trees, cutting them
into convenient lengths for being hauled to the saw-
mill by oxen, and then the hauling itself, which fre-
quently is a very laborious part of the business. If the
timber be regularly and properly arranged, one person
is competent to attend the mill, but it requires two to

‘roll the larger logs from a distance to the moveable
platform in the floor of the mill upon which they have
to be placed, where the ground is nut very favourable.
When the mill is kept going during the night, one man
relieves the other

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

[APRIL 2,

The saw, which is a stout plate, cight or nine feet

long, is fixed in a strong frame in a perpendicular
position, working with an up-and-down stroke, iike the
piston of a steam-engine; while at each stroke of the
saw the platform upon which the tree is placed moves
towards the saw the requisite distance for the log to
be acted upon. When the log has been placed upon
the frame, one end of it is brought close up to the saw
and adjusted for the purpose of taking off an outside
slab, being held steadily in its place by an iron clamp.
The machinery is then put in motion, and when the
saw has performed its work to within an inch or two of
the end of the log, it is stopped, the platform run back
again by reversing the action of the machinery (which
1s exceedingly simple), and a thin wedge is inserted,
which completes the work by separating the slab from
the log. The saw is then applicd to cut off a slab frown
the opposite side of the log, and when this has been
effected, two out of the four sidcs have been ‘slabbed’
or squared. The log is then turned upon one of its
flat faces, when two more opcrations complete the
squaring of the original round piece of timber. The
slabs are commonly thrown to one side as worthless.
_ After the operation of slabbing is over, the stick, as
it is customary to call it, is gauged, and marked out by
a chalked line into the proper number of divisions.
If the stick is intended for thin boards, or for planks
of two or three inches in thickness, the number of saw-
courses corresponding with the chalked lines com-
pletes the business; but where it is intended for square
or oblong shaped joists or scantlings, it is then turned
over, and marked out upon another face of the square,
being still held together at one extremity in conse-
anne of not allowing the saw to quite complete its
work.

While a log is being sawed up in this way, the per-
son superintendimg the mill will find time to remove
the boards out of the way which the log previously
operated on may have yielded; but it is absolutely ne-
cessary that he neglect not to stop the machinery a
little before the saw has completed each course, as
already explained; otherwise 1t might get spoiled by
coming in contact with the iron clamp which 1s used
to steady the log in its position. Since most of these
saw-mills are built in lonely situations—at least so
while the country remains unsettled, or is but partially
taken up—it is but an irksome business for those who
have to attend them night and day; and, during the
winter season, one which exposes the parties to a con-
siderable degree of cold. As some of the mills are
destitute of roofs, and those which are roofed being,
for the most part, open on both sides, for the conve-
nience of rolling in the logs and removing the boards
after the logs have been cut up there 1s but little
shelter from the storm, particularly when accompanied
bya high wind. The profits, however, of a saw-mill
are commonly such as to enable the owner, when he
cannot makc it convenient to attend it himself, to pay
liberal wages to those who undertake to do it for him.
The wages are, however, not paid in cash, but generally
in a portion of the boards, planks, &c. produced, the
labourer being left to dispose of them in the way he is
best able ; but since every settler in a new country re-
quires timber in larger or smaller quantities, there is
a constant demand for the produce of the saw-mill.

The saw-mills hitherto described are of the rudest
and commonest character. Where lumbering is carried
on to a considerable extent, some of the mills will
have two or three saws in opcration at the same tine;
and occasionally a gang of saws, that is, a machine or
frame containing a sufficient number of saws to per-
form, at a single operation, the sawing up of a good-
sized piece of timber; but beyond this but few of the

i saw-mills in America have extended their machinery

1812.]

Aniong the exceptions, however, there is one, which
was erected more than twenty years ago, peculiarly
deserving of notice; for it is doubtful whether there
is any saw-mill to be compared to the one in question.
¢ The river Montmorency is a stream ot considerable
size, being one of the largest tributarics of the St. Law-
rence. After traversing an uninhabited country for a
distance of two or three hundred miles, it enters the
St. Lawrence ten miles below the city of Quebec.
Immediately, or very nearly, at its confluence with the
latter river, its waters are precipitated over a lofty
barrier of rock from a height of two hundred and
eighty fect, no other cataract within the limits of the
British North American colonies, and the extensive
territories of the United States included, being equal
to the Fall of Montmorency in respect to the perpen-
dicular descent of the fall. The channel of the St.
Lawrence is divided into two parts by an island imme-
diately opposite to where this tributary streain enters
it, the southern one being generally frequented by
vessels passing up and down that river, so that this
stupendous waterfall is not visible to many sea-going
vessels, The northern channel is, however, of sufficient
a) para for ships trading to Quebec; which, probably,
influenced the erection of those extensive works erected
near the mouth of the Montmorency river. This large
saw-mill, or saw-mills, as the extensive range of build-
ing was commonly called, besides containing several
complete gangs of saws, also contained circular and
other saws. The machinery connected with the entire
establishment was propelled by a watcr-wheel of very
moderate dimensions, but the force of the water that was
employed to put this wheel in motion was almost irre-
sistible. This water was brought in a race or cliannel,
Which was lined with stout planking, from some dis-
tance above the head of the great waterfall; and for
a considerable portion of this distance, and before it
reached the works, situated on the very margin of the
St. Lawrence river, the bank was so steep where the
race had becn dug, that there was more than one foot
fall in every yard; while the planking of the race
being smooth, and there being nothing to impede the
torrent in its rapid descent, probably those who are
unacquainted with the laws that regulate moving
bodies on inclined planes may be able to form: some
idea of the force with which it was thrown upon
the water-wheel. The race itself was considered by
many a great though useless undertaking; but it was
found completely to answer the purpose.

To give constant a eae to a mill of such
pubes as this possessed, necessarily required a very
arge supply of timber ; but the neizhbourhood yield-
ing little or none, all that was brought had to be floated
down from the country connected with the streams
falling into the upper part of the St. Lawrence. In
order to secure these rafts when they reached their
destination, a large basin or dock was formed in the
river fronting the mill, sufficiently capacious to contain
some thousands of large trees; and from the gently
inclined plane from the interior of the mill to the
margin of this basin, as the pieces of timber were
wanted in the mill, a chain was carried out and ‘hitched’
round one end of the tree, when, in the short space of
one minute, it would be hauled out of the water to the
exact position it was intended it should be placed in
preparatory to its being acted upon by the saws. The
machinery for the performance of every part of the
work connected with this establishment was so com-
plete, that acomparatively small number of persons
were required for superintending the different depart-
ments.

In constructing the picrs by which the reservoir for
containing the unsawed timber was inclozed, one of
them was made to answer the purpose of a quay or

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

135

wharf for ships to lay along-side of while taking in
their loading ; and when it is stated that a single day’s
full employment of the various saws and machinery of
this establishment was sufficient to supply a good-sized
vessel with a cargo of sawed lumber, some idea may he
oe of the capabilities of the Montmorency saw-
mills.

ORNAMENTAL WOODS USED IN THE ARTS.

Ir is familiarly known to most persons, though few
have devoted much thought upon the matter, that
however general may have been the custom of paint-
ing articles formed of common wood, as a means of
beautifying, there have for many centuries been some
kinds of wood more esteemed for the beauty of their
natural appearance than for any pigment which could
be laid upon them. Among the numerous kinds of
costly wood enumerated as having been employed in
the building of Solomon’s Temple, it seems more than
robable that many of them were selected for the
cauty of their appearance, and were left uncovered.

If we analyse the motives which lead us to prefer
one kind of ornamental wood to another, or to draw
comparisons between them, we shall find that lustre,
figure, and colour are the qualities to which the atten-
tion is directed; and it 1s interesting to trace the
causes which produce variations in these qualities.
This was done a few years ago, in an instructive man-
ner, by Mr. Aikin, in one of his illustrated lectures
before the Society of Arts. We shall condense the
chief details of his elucidation.

The first cause of difference in different woods is
the nature of the fibre. The fibrous portion of wood,
when examined with a glass of moderate power,
appears to consist of bundles of fine filaments, more or
less parallel one to another. These filaments are more
or less translucent, when held between the eye and a
bright light, and have a smooth polished surface; a
structure which produces a variation or play of light,
according to the angle under which the fibres are
viewed, the degrce of light, or the lustre, depending
on the number of adjacent fibres that have their re-
fiecting surfaces strictly parallel. When the fibres
procced nearly in right lines, their lustre is very dif-
ferent from that displayed by tortuous fibres. In some
kinds of wood, such as the sycamore, and still more in
ash and mahogany, the bundles of fibres meet with ob-
structions which throw them into gently waving or
tortuous directions. The parallelism thus becomes
disturbed more or less in some parts, while it is unin-
fluenced in others: and thus result some of those beau-
tiful variations of lustre which the same piece of wood
presents. In the horse-chesnut and in the box the
fibres are not sufficiently parallel to produce great
play of lustre on the surface, although individually
they have considerable brightness.

he next source of variety is afforded by those thin
plane portions of the woody structure which vege-
table physiologists term the medullary plates. The
structure of these parts in invisible to the naked eye ;
but when viewed through a magnifying-glass it appears
to be composed of fine granular matter, which a
powerful microscope further resolves into a cellular
structure. This substance is in gencral dull and in-
capable of receiving a polish, but it often gives great
beauty to the fibres which pass over and between the
nicdatlary lates, by forcing them to assuine a per-
fectly regular and parallel arrangement. ‘In the
oak,’ says Mr. Aikin, “the medullary plates are much
larger than in any other wood that I have seen; and
when their broad side is brought to the surface bya
section a little oblique to the direction or run of the
plates, they have this peculiarity, that they are dull

136 THE PENNY
when the fibrous part reflects the light, and, on the
contrary, exhibit a bright silky lustre when the fibres
are dull. In all the coloured woods that I have ex-
amined, with one exception, the colour of the medul-
lary plates is much deeper than that of the fibres, and
sometimes differs even in kind, so that when viewed in
different lights they present different colours, like a
shot silk.” In the wood of the plane-tree the medul-
lary plates are large, distinct, and of a rich chesnut-
brown colour, while the fibres are dull, and nearly
white. In the Botany Bay oak, in beef-wood, and in
common elm, the fibres present more lustre than the
medullary plates. In the laburnum the relative colours
are very remarkable, the medullary plates, which are
large and very distinct, being white, whereas the fibres
are dark-brown. In satin-wood, the medullary platcs
are reddish-brown, and the fibres, which have a silky
lustre, are nearly white ; but on account of the minute-
ness of the parts, the structure can hardly be ecen
without a glass. On fixing the eye on a stripe it will
be found to vary its colour from shining white to dul}
chesnut, according as the light is reflected from the
fibres or from the sections of the medullary plates.

A third source of varicty is in the spongy or tubular
portion of the annual layers of wood. This substance
possesses in general hardly any lustre; and the sections
of the tubes which make their appearance when the
wood is cut up for use, vary greatly in different spe-
cies, thus creating considerable influence on the ulti-
inate cffect, sometimes favourable, but in other cases
the reverse. In the wood of the oak, the ash, the
walnut, and the cedar, this part of the structure is
very conspicuous, and not in general considered an
ornament, In mahogany the tubes are smaller, and
form by no means £0 conspicuous a feature in the ap-
pearance of the wood, Jn the lime, the pear-tree, the
beech, the birch, the lignum-vita, the bird’s-cye maple,
the plane, tulip-wood, Coromandel-wood, and satin-
wood, the tubes are so small as hardly to be visible to
the naked eye.

Another circumstance affecting the general appear-
ance of the wood is the contrast or similarity between
one annual layer and another. Mr. Aikin illustrates
this by saying, that if the circumstances which affect
the deposition of wood acted with perfect uniformity,
a cross-section of the trunk of a tree would exhibit a
nuinber of perfectly concentric circular rings. This
however never occurs, more or less of irregularity
always being exhibited in the arrangement of these
layers. This irregularity is in itself a source of beauty,
and is capable of being indefinitcly varicd by making
the section more or less oblique to the axis of the
tree. An alternation of colour frequently accompa-
nies these concentric rings ; and when the colours are
lively, well defined, and well contrasted, their effect is
very agreeable; of these many remarkable specimens
are met with in yew, king-wood, tulip- wood, Amboyna-
wood, partridge-wood, and lignum-vita. This distri-
bution of colour passes into the striped, the veined,
and the mottled, according to the nature of the wood
and the direction in which it is cut. In Coromandel-
wood the harmonious tone of the colours, passing from
brownish-white to rich chocolate, and the broad masses
in which they are arranged, give to the wood inuch the
appearance of brecciated marble.

As a fifth source of variety may be mentioned eyes,
zoned spots, and curls, which, though in general too
siall to add to the beauty of large articles of furniture,
are productive of considerable beauty in work-boxcs
and other fancy articles. Bird's-eye maple, Amboyna-
wood, pollard-oak, and curdled elm (formed of the
knobby tubercles which form the root and trunk of the
common clm) afford many pleasing specimens of these
diversified surfaces.

MAGAZINE. [APRIL 2,

Lastly, the general colour may be noted—of maho-
gany and rosewood we need say nothing, they are so
well known—king-wood and schrwood both from
Brazil, are generally of rich yellowish brown, more
or less varied by other tints; giaca, crocus-wood,
snake-wood, and sandal-wood, are among those which
pee more or less of a brown colour. Satin-wood,
rought from India and the West Indies, and fustic,
are two varieties in which yellow is the prevailing
colour. The cain-wood, the barr-wood, the red san-
ders, the tulip-wood, the beef-wood, are among the
foreign varieties of “reddish-coloured woods. The
varieties of British wood, kept unpainted on account
of their beauty of appearance, are not great in number ;
the yew, the elm, the pollard-oak, and the walnut, are
perhaps the principal

The © Overlanders’ of New Holland.—The temptation held out
by the high price of cattle and other stock in the new settlements,
has called into existence a numerous class of men, styled ‘ Over-
landers.” In February, 1838, two expeditions started from Port
Philip or its neighbourhood, for the capital of South Australia.
Mr. Howdon reached his destination in two montha, and Mr. Kyre,
who, keeping farther south, had got into an almost impassable
country, arrived soon after. The success of these leaders soon
called into action a host of © Overlauders.’ The Australian stock-
farmers, no louger sedentary, have become active and enterpris-
ing pastoral chiets and merchants, capable of undertaking the
longest journeys, surrounded by their sheep and cattle. The
© Overlanders’ (says Captain Grey, now governor of South Aus-
tralia) are nearly all men in the prime of youth, whose occupa-
tion it is to convey large herds of stock from market to market
and from colony to colony. Urged on by the hope of profit, they
have overcome difficulties of uo ordimary kind, which jae made
the amore timid and weak-hearted quail and relinquish the en-
terprises in which they were engaged ; whilst the resolute and
undaunted have persevered, and the reward they have obtained
is wealth, self-confidence in difficulties and dangers, and a fund
of accurate information on many interesting points. Hence,
almost every ‘ Overlander’ you meet is a remarkable man. The
© Overlanders’ are generally descended from good families, have
received a liberal education (Etonians and Oxonians are to be
found amongst peal and even at their first start in the colony
were od of what is considered an independence. Their
grandfathers and fathers have been men distinguished in the Jand
aud sea service of their country; and these worthy scions of the
ancient stock, finding nv outlet for their enterprise and love of ad-
venture at home, have sought it in a distant and; amongst them,
therefore, is to be found a degree of polish and frankness rarely
to be looked for in such a mode of life, and in the distant desert
you unexpectedly stumble ona finished gentleman. The life
of an ‘ Overlander’ in the bush is one of great excitement, which
constantly calls every energy into action, is full of romantic and
novel situations, and habituates the mind to self-possession and
command, The large and stately herd of cattle is at least a
fine if not even an imposing sight. . . . As the love of war,
of gaming, or of any other specics of violent excitement, grows
upon the mind ftom indulgence, so does the love of roving yrow
upon the ¢ Overlanders,’ and few or none of them ever talk of
leading a settled life.” When sheep alone are driven overland,
the flocks number from 8000 to 12,000. A single expedition
has brought to Adelaide, sheep, horses, and horned cattle to the
amount of 14,000/.; and in fifteen months after the opening of
this overland trade, the stock, including 60,000 sheep, carried by
it into South Australia, exceeded in value 230,000/,

Shrimps.—The office of shrimps secms to be that analogous
to some of the insects on Jand, whuse task it is to clear away the
remains of dead animal matter after the beasts and birds of
prey have been satiated. If a dead small bird or frog be placed
where ants can have access to it, those insects will speedily re-
duce the body to a closely-cleaned skeleton, The shrimp
family, acting in hosts, as speedily remove all traces of fish or
flesh from the lones of any dead animal exposed to their ravages,
They are, in short, the principal scavengers of the ocean ; andy,
notwithstanding their office, they are deservedly and highly

) prized as nutritious and delicious food.— Penny Cycloparda.

1822.] THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 137

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warded with distinguished sticcess. He possessed
many advantages for the task. He was a warrior who
held a distinguished position, the governorship. of
Calais for instance: he lived while the sentiments and
language, and, to a certain extent, the influences of
chivalry, were yet existing; lastly, he had all the
benefit that a prolonged residence in the neighbour-
hood of many of the scenes described could afford him.
Of his style the ‘ Edinburgh Review ' observes, that it
is the “ pure and nervous English of that early period.”

Turning from the translation to the original, we may
observe that Froissart’s work may be divided into two
cs parts or periods, the first comprising the events from
— 1326 (when the Chronicles begin) to 1356, for the ma-
terials of which Froissart was indebted to the writings
of Jean le Bel, a canon of Liege, a confident of John
of Hainault, whom we shall presently meet with in

FROISSART.—No. [1].
FEE RACTEE OF CERSSN- the field of Cressy; and the second, from 1356 to the

Tae translation used in this and the subsequent papers death of Richard II. of England, in 1400; the materials
is that by Lord Berners, a nobleman nearly contem- | for this period being collected personally by Froissart
raneous with Tiptoft, Earl of Worcester, Caxton’s | from the mouths of the actors In them, or still more
patron; and scarcely less distinguished for his zeal in | directly by his being himself a spectator of what he had
the cause of learning and literature, or in the talents | to describe. The last-mentioned period 1s of course
and accomplishments he himself brought into their | more valuable not only as being more trustworthy, but
service. In taking up the works of Froissart, he tells | as giving the author a better opportunity of infusing
us that he was pricked on to the undertaking “ by the | into his writings more of the qualities which give them
love and honour which he bore to his most puissant | sucha charm ; and from it, therefore, will the greater
sovereign (Henry VIII.), and to do pleasure to his sub- | part of our pictures from Froissart be derived.
‘ects, both nobles and commons.” It was, indeed, in Froissart devotes a large amount of space to the
every way a labour of love; and, like such labours English wars in France; and it is only necessary to
enerally, in the hands of competent persons, was re- mention the names of Cressy, Poictiers, Calais, to see

No. 643. ~ {Vom SIT

138 THE PENNY
how justly. As these three subjects will be included
in our series, a very brief notice of the origin of the
wars may be acceptable. The Conquest, in its results,
may be said to have given Normandy to the English
crown, rather than England to the French duchy; and
the marriage of Henry II. to Eleanor, the repudiated
wife of Louis VII. of France, added the large territory
known under the name of Aquitaine. The possession
of so much was sure to lead to the desire for more,
although. until circumstances seemed to hold out a kind
of plausible excuse for the entire conquest of France,
ee a fair opportunity for achieving it, we hear little
of such extravagant claims. Normandy was given up
by King John, after the murder of Prince Arthur,
alinoet without a struggle, and soon became amalga-
mated with the French kingdom. This loss would
furnish one strong motive with pupae duane English
monarchs to conquer France; and another was given
by the continual revolts breaking out in Aquitaine,
and which were fomented by the French kings, anxious,
naturally enough, to annex that country to their own,
of which, indeed, Nature had marked it out as a part
by its geographical position, and over which it must be
remembered they possessed the nominal rights of su-
zerain lords. These remarks may give a sufficient
idea for our purpose of the state of things when Ed-
ward III. laid claim to the French throne. The osten-
sible ground of that claim was descent from the French
king, Philip the Fair, a son of Philip the Bold. Philip
the Fair had three sons, who reigned successivel
without leaving any heirs male, and a daughter Isabel,
who married Edward II. of England, and thus gave
birth to the claimant Edward III. But the operation
of the same Salic law that caused the three brothers to
follow each other, instead of allowing the first to be
succeeded by his daughter, of course barred the claim
of Isabel, and of Edward through her. The throne,
therefore, reverted to a brother of Philip the Bold, who
was dead, or his descendants, one of whom was living,
and was acknowledged _ king, namely, Philip le Valois.
As if to make the claim still more indefensible, Ed-
ward had already done homage to Philip as king for
his duchy of Aquitaine. It was in the prosecution of
this claiin that all those great battles which English
valour and skill have made for ever memorable were
fought. The first of these was Cressy.

The English army, after ravaging and plundering
through Normandy, had advanced near to Paris, as if
to threaten the capital; when suddenly it turned, and
retreated in the direction of Ponthicu, which, as well
as Aquitaine, now belonged to the English king. He
was followed by an immense army, commanded by
Philip le Valois himself. The English in their route
had to cross the river Somme, a difficult matter, as the
bridges were all cut down, with two or three exceptions
only, and these, with the fords, were strongly guarded.
At the ford of Blanchtache, however, alter a spirited
batule, they forced their way, just in time to avoid an
attack by Philip at the head of his overwhelming forces.
The French king, however, soon found that it was the
position, and not the attack, that was objected to. That
night the English king lay in the fields with his host,
and “‘ made a supper to all his chief lords of his host,
and made them good cheer. And when they were all
departed to take their rest, then the king entered into
his oratory, and kneeled down before the altar, praying
God devoutly that if he fought the next day, that he
a achieve the journey to his honour. Then about
midnight he laid him down to rest, and in the morning
he rose betimes and heard mass, and the prince, his
son (the Black Prince), with him, and the most part of
his company were confessed and houseled. And after
the mass said, he commanded every man to be armed, and
to draw to the ficld, to the same place before appointed.

MAGAZINE. [Aprix 9,
Then the king caused a park to be made by the wood-
side, behind his host, and there was set all carts and
carriages, and within the park were all their horses,
for every man was afoot; and into this park there was
but one entry.” After arranging the army in three
battalions, “ the king leapt on a hobby, with a white
rod in his hand, one of his marshals on the one hand,
and the other on the other hand: he rode froin rank to
rank, desiring every man to take heed that day, to his
right and honour: he spake it so sweetly, and with
so good countenance and merry cheer, that all such as
were discomfited took courage in the seeing and hear-
ing of him. And when he had thus visited all his bat-
tles (battalions) it was then nine of the day: then he
caused every man to eat and drink a little, and so they
did at their leisure ; and afterwards they ordered again
their battles. Then every man lay down on the earth,
and by him his salet and bow, to be the more fresher
when their enemies should come.” It was in this po-
sition that they were found by the tumultuous French
army, which came rushing on, crying “ Down with
them,” “ Let us slay them,” in sucha manner, that,
says Froissart, “ there was no man, though he were
present at the tatale that could imagine or show the
truth of the evil order” that was among them. The
day of this meeting was Saturday, August 6, 1346.
“The Englishmen, who were in threc battles, lying
on the ground to rest them, as soon as they saw the
Frenchmen approach, they rose upon their feet, fair
and easily, without any haste, and arranged their bat-
tles : the first, which was the prince’s battle ; the arch-
ers there stood in manner of a herse (harrow), and the
men-of-arms in the bottom of the battle. The Earl of
Northampton and the Earl of Arundel, with the second
battle, were on a wing in good order, ready to comfort
the aed battle, 1f need were. The lords and
knights of France came not to the assembly together
in good order ; for some came before, and some came
ufter, in such haste and evil order that one of them did
trouble another. When the French king saw the
Englishmen, his blood changed ; and (he) said to his
marshals, ‘Make the Genoese go on before, and begin
the battle in the name of God and St. Denis.’ There
were of the Genocse crossbows about a fifteen thou-
sand; but they were so weary of going a-foot that da
a six league, armed with their crossbows, that they sai
to their constables, ‘We be not well ordered to fight
this day, for we be not in the case to do any great decd
of arms, aswe have more need of rest.’ These words
came to the Earl of Alengon, who said, ‘ A man is well
at ease to be charged with such a sort of rascals, to be
faint and fail now at most need.’ Also at the same
season there fell a great rain and eclipse, with a terri-
ble thunder; and before the rain there came flying
over both battles a great number of crows, for fear of
the tempest coming. Then anon the air began to wax
clear, and the sun to shine fair and bright, the which
was right in the Frenchmen’s eyes and on the English-
men’s backs. When the Genoese were assembled
together, and began to approach, they made a great
leap and cry to abash the Englishmen, but they stood
still, and stirred not for all that. Then the Genoese
again the second time made another leap, and a fell cry,
and stept forward a little, and the Englishmen removed
not one foot; thirdly, again they leapt and cried, and
went forth till they came within shot, then they shot
fiercely with their crossbows. Then the English
archers stept forth one pass (pace), and let fly their
arrows so wholly, and so thick, that it seemed snow.
When the Genoese felt the arrows pressing through
heads, arms, and breasts, many of thein cast down their
crossbows, and did cut their strings, and returned dis-
comforted. When the French king saw them flee
away, he said, ‘Slay these rascals; for they shall lett

1942.)

(hinder) and trouble us without reason. Then ye
should have scen the men-of-arms dash in among
them, and killed a great number of them; and ever
still the Englishmen shet whereas they saw thickest

ress: the sharp arrows ran into the men-of-arms, and
into their horses, and many fell, horse and men, among
the Genoese; and when they were down, they could
not relyne again, the press was so thick that one over-
threw another. And also among the Englishmen there
were certain rascals that went on foot, with great
knives, and they went in among the men-of-arms, and
slew and murdered many as they lay on the ground,
both earls, barons, knights, and squires, whereof the
King of England was after displeased, for he had
rather they had been taken prisoners, The valiant
mine of Bohemia, called Charles of Luxenbourg, son
to the noble emperor Henry of Luxenbourg, for all
that he was nigh blind, when he understood the order
of the battle, he said to them about him, ‘ Where is the
Lord Charles my son?’ His men said, ‘Sir, we cannot
tell, we think he be fighting.” Then he said, ‘ Sirs, ye
are my men, my companions and friends in this jour-
ney; I require you bring me so forward that I may
strike one stroke with my sword.’ They said they
would do his commandment; and tothe intent that
they might not lose him in the press, they tied all the
reins of their bridles each to other, and set the king
before to accomplish his desire, and so they went on
their enemies. The Lord Charles of Bohemia, his son,
who wrote himself King of Bohemia, and bare the
arms, he came in good order to the battle ; but when he
saw that the matter went awry on their party, he de-
ses I cannot tell you which way. The king his
ather was so far forward, that he struck a stroke with
his sword, yea and more than four, and fought valiantly,
and so did his company, and they adventured them-
selves so forward, that they were there all slain, and
the next day they were found in the place about the
king, and all their horses tied to each other.”

One of the most interesting incidents of the battle is
connected with the behaviour of the king and his son;
and, absurdly enough, instead of appreciating the mili-
pest sagacity of the former, and the full knowledge
and sympathy with the feelings of his son and his com-
panions, which induced him to send the message
recorded in the following passage, doubts have been
raised upon the incident relative to the king’s valour:
the valour of Edward II].! “ The prince's battalion at
one period was very hard pressed ; and they with the

rince sent a messenger to the king, who was on a
ittle windmill hill; then the knight said to the king,
‘Sir, the Earl of Warwick, and the Earl of Oxford,
Sir Reynold Cobham, and others, such as be about the
rince, your son, are fiercely fought withal, and are sore
andled, wherefore they desire you, that you and your
battle will come and aid them, for if the Frenchmen
increase, as they doubt they will, your son and they
shall have much ado.’ Then the king said, ‘Is my
son dead or hurt, or on the earth fell’d?’ ‘ No, sir,’
uoth the knight, ‘ but he is hardly matched, where-
ore he hath need of your aid.’ ‘ Well,’ said the king,
‘return to him and to them that sent you hither, and
say to them, that they send no more to me for an
adventure that falleth, as longas my son is alive; an
also say to them, that they suffer him this day to win his
spurs, for, if God be pleased, I will this journey be his,
and the honour thereof, and to them that be about
him.’ Then the knight returned again to them, and
showed the king's words, the which greatly encouraged
them, and repined in that they had sent to the king as
they did.” The king of France stayed till the last. It
was not until the evening that he could be induced to
acknowledge that all was lost. Then, when he ‘“ had
left about him no more than a threescore persons, one

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

139

and other, whereof Sir John of Heynault was one, who
had remounted once the king (for his horse was slain
with an arrow), then he said to the king, ‘ Sir, depart
hence, for it is time, lose not yourself wilfully, if ye
have loss this time, ye shall recover it again another
season ;’ and so he took the king’s horse by the bridle
and led him away ina manner per force. Then the
king rode till he came to the castle of La Broyes; the
gate was closed, because it was by that time dark;
then the king called the captain. who came to the
walls, and said, ‘ Who is that calleth there this time of
night?’ Then the king said, ‘Open your gate quickly,
for this is the fortune of France.’ The captain knew
then it was the king, and opened the gate and let down
the bridge; then the king entered, and he had with
him but five barons, Sir John of Heynault,” and four
others. The unhappy king, however, could not rest there,
but “ drank, and departed thence about midnight.”
The recorded results of the battle would scem exag-
gerations but that they are so well authenticated.
Besides the king of Bohemia, there perished the Duke
of Lorraine, the Earl of Alengon, whose overweening
pace and impetuosity had so much contributed to the
atal result, the Count of Flanders, eight other counts,
two archbishops, several other noblemen, and it is said
twelve hundred knights and thirty thousand common
persons. Such was the cost to humanity of one day’s
proceedings in the endeavour to conquer France.

An Auberge in France.—Arriving wet and weary, to stand m
the middle of a great brick-floored room, in which tnere has been
no fire all the winter, in expectation of seeing damp faggots
burn; and finding, when they do, that the door into the corridor
must be left wide open, that the draught may conduct towards
the chimney the smoke, and the steam of wet clothes and damp
sheets which must be dried there, as the economical kitchen
hearth exhibits only a few dying embers,—this was our case.
The good old woman, to be sure, offered a remedy, as she said
that we might, if we liked, take a dry pair of sheets, which had
been slept in only once, and recommended hanging the dripping
habit and cloaks in the grenier, whose unglazed windows let in
full as much rain as wind. Add to my previous enumeration a
dinner of dry bouilli and greasy cabbage, a faggot for our feet
serving as a rug, and dirty alcove, with plenty of cobwebs, but
no curtains.—.4 Ride on Horseback, &c., by a Lady.

Holland as it Was and as it [s.—Holland is the land of the
chivalry of the middle classes. Here they may say, in honest
pride, to the hereditary lords and nobles of the earth in the
other countries of Europe, see what we grocers, fishcurers, and
shipowners have done in days of yore, in this little country!
But, alas! this glory is faded. In the deserted streets of Delft
and Leyden and Haarlem, the grass is growing through the
seams of the brick pavements; the ragged petticoat flutters in the
wind out of the drawing-room casements of a palace, the echo of
wooden shoes clattering through empty saloons tells of past mag-
nificence, of actual indigence. This has been a land of warlike
deed, of high and independent feeting ; the home of patriots, of
heroes, of scholars, of philosophers, of men of science, of artists,
of the persecuted for religious or political opinions from every
country, and of the generous spirits who patronised and
tected them.—Why is the Holland of our times no longer that
old Holland of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries? Why
are her streets silent, her canals green with undisturbed slime?
The greatness of Holland was founded upon commercial pro-
sperity and capital, not upon productive industry. Her capital
and industry were not employed in producisg what ministers to
human wants and gratifications; but in transmitting what other
countries produced, or manufactured, from one country to
another. She was their broker. When their capitals, applied
at first more beneficially to productive industry, had grown large
enough: to enter also into the business of circulation, as well as
into that of production—into commerce, properly 90 called—the

perity of Holland, founded upon commerce alone, unsupported

y a basis of productive industry within herself, and among the

mass of her own population, fell to the ground. This is the bis-

tory of Holland. It speaks an important lesson to nations.—-
Laing "8 Notes of a Traveller. ; T 2

140° THE PENNY MAGAZINE

[ApRit 9

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[View of Singapore.}

SINGAPORE, OR SINCAPORE.

Amongst all the British possessions, none perhaps is
more remarkable for its rapid growth, for the principle
on which that growth has been developed, and for its
present importance, than Singapore. If its commerce
were limited to the produce of the place, it would
hardly give employment to two or three vessels. But
Singapore has become the London of Southern Asia
and the Indian Archipelago. All the nations that in-
habit the countries bordering on the Indian Ocean re-
sort to it with the produce of their agriculture and
manufacturing industry, and take in exchange such
goods as are not grown or produced in their own
countries. All of them‘ find there a ready market,
which at the same time is well stocked with European
goods. This effect has partly been produced by the
wise policy of declaring the harbour of Singapore a
free port, in which no export or import duties, nor any
anchorage, harbour, or lighthouse fees, are levied.
The establishment of this Oriental mart was effected
chiefly by Sir Stamford Raffles, who saw the vast im-
pulse which such a place of common resort would give
to the Indian country-trade, as it is called, and his ideas
have been fully verified. In 1819, when the British
took ion of the islands, the population amounted
to about 150 individuals, mostly fishermen and pirates,
who lived in a few miserable huts; about thirty of
these were Chinese, the remainder Malays. The first
census was taken in 1824, and then the population
amounted to 10,683 individuals. Since that period it

nas constantly been increasing, and at the census of

1836 it was found to amount to 29,984 individuals,

More than half of the ig rsa were settled in the
town of Singapore, which contained 16,148 individuals,
of whom there were 12,748 males and 3400 females.
It is very probable that the population of the set-
tlement now (1841) amounts to more than 36,000
individuals, which gives more than one hundred and
thirty persons to a square mile, which is a consider-
able population even in a country that has been settled
for centuries, and is certainly a very surprising popula-
tion in a country which twenty years ago was a desert.
The population is of a very mixed character ; the fol-
lowing classes are enumerated in the census of 1836:
— Europeans, nearly all Britons ; Indo- Britons ; native
Christians, mostly Portuguese ; Americans, Jews, Arabs,
Malays, Chinese, natives of the coast of Coromandel,
Chuliahs, and Klings (Telingas) ; Hindustanees, Ja-
vanese, Bugis, and Ballinese; Caffres, Siamese, and
Parsees: of these the Chinese and Malays are by far
the most numerous. In 1836 there were 12,870
Chinese men and only 879 women; of Malays there
were 5122 men and 4510 women. But these
censuses do not include the military, their followers,
nor the convicts, as Singapore is a place of banish-
ment from Calcutta and other parts of Hindustan.
The number of these classes cf inhabitants nay be
estimated at about twelve hundred. The Europeans
and Chinese constitute the wealthicr classes. The
Europeans are for the most part merchants, shop-
keepers, and agents for mercantile houses in Europe.
Most of the artisans, labourers, agriculturists, and
shopkeepers are Chinese. The Malays are chiefly oc-
cupied in fishing, collecting sea-weed, and cutting
timber, and many of them are employed as boatmen

Digitized by Google

1942.

and sailors. The Bugis are almost invariably engaged
in commerce, and the natives of India as petty shop-
keepers, boatmen, and servants. The Chuliahs and
Klings are daily labourers, artisans, and petty traders.
The Caffres are the descendants of slaves, who have
been brought by the Arabs from the Arabian and
Abyssinian coasts. The most useful are the Chinese
settlers. A common Chinese labourer gets from four
to six Spanish dollars a month, a Kling from three to
four and a half, and a Malay from two and a half to
four and a half. A Chinese carpenter will earn about
fifteen dollars a month, a Kling cight, and a Mala
only five. The immigration of the Chinese is muc
favoured by circumstances. Among the dense popula-
tion of China there are many paupers, who area burden
to the state, and the government connives at the poorer
classes quitting the country, though it is contrary to
their antient laws. The poor Chinese leaves his
country without a penny, and agrees with the captain
of the junk to pay from eight to twelve dollars for the
passage. On landing he enters into one of the secret
societies, which are always formed by the Chinese, and
the society pays the passage-money and engages his
services. In three months he has generally paid his
debt, and then he begins to make his fortune. The
Chinese emigrants at Singapore and Penang are mostly
from Canton, Macao, or Fokien. Many of those of
Fokien become merchants, and show a strong propen-
sity to speculate largely. The Canton emigrants are
the best miners and artisans.

The territories of this settlement embrace a circum-
ference of about a hundred miles, including the seas
and straits within ten miles of the coast of the island of
Singapore, and they lie between 1° 8/and 1° 32’ N. lat.,
and between 103° 30/ and 104° 10’ E. long.

The island of Singapore occupies about half the
2 et between the two capes with which the Malay

eninsula terminates on the south, Capes Buru and
Raminia (commonly called Romania). It has an ellip-
tical form, and is about twenty-five miles in its greatest
length from east to west, and fifteen in its greatest
width. It contains an estimated area of about two
hundred and seventy-five square miles, and is about
one-third larger than the Isle of Wight. It is divided
from the continent of Asia by a long and narrow strait
called Salat Tabrao, or the old strait of Singapore.
This strait is nearly forty miles long, and varies in
width between two miles and a quarter of a mile. At
its western extremity, near the island of Marambong,
it has only a depth of two fathoms and a half, but
farther east it is nowhere less than five fathoms deep.
The strait was formerly navigated by vessels bound for
the China Seas; but the advantages which the Straits of
Singapore offer for a speedy and safe navigation are so
great, that the Salat Tabrao has not been used since
the Straits of Singapore have become known. The
last-mentioned strait extends along the southern coast
_ of the island, and the most navigable part lies within
the British possessions. It is the high road between
the eastern and western portions of maritime Asia.

The surface of the island is gently undulating, here
and there rising into low rounded hills of inconsider-
able elevation. The higher ground rises in general
not more than a hundred Pet above the sea; the
highest hill, called Bukit Tima, which is north-west of
the town, but nearer the northern than the southern
shores of the island, does not attain two hundred feet.
The shores of the island are mostly low, and sur-
rounded by mangrove-trees. In a few isolated places
low rocks approach the sea, chiefly along the Salat
Tabrao. In several places, however, the coast is in-
dented by salt creeks, which sometimes penetrate into
the land three and even five or six miles. When the
island was first occupied by the British, it was entirely,

THE PENNY MAGAZINE

14]

and is still for the greater part, covered with a forest
composed of different kinds of trees, five or six of which
are well adapted for every object of house-building.
The soil of the interior is composed of sand and of clay
iron-stone, mixed up with a large portion of vegetable
matter, which gives it a very black appearance. There
is a general tendency to the formation of swamps.
Rivulets are numerous, but they are of inconsiderable
size. Their waters are almost always of a black
colour, disagreeable taste, and peculiar odour, pro-
perties which they appear to derive from the peculiar
nature of the superficial soil over which they pass,
which in many parts resembles peat-moss. The water,
however, drawn from wells which are sunk lower than
the sandy base is less sensibly marked by these dis-
agreeable qualities.

The climate of Singapore is hot, but equable, the
seasons varying very little. The atmosphere through-
out the year is serene. The smooth expanse of the sca
is scarcely ruffled by a wind. The destructive typhons
of the China Sea, and the scarcely less furious tempests
which occur on the coasts of Hindustan, are not known.
The tempests of the China Sea, however, sometimes
occasion a considerable swell in the sea, and a similar
but less remarkable effect is produced by a tempest in
the Bay of Bengal. It is only in this way, and as it
were by propagation, that the sea is affected by remote
tempests, and their effects are particularly remarkable
m the irregularity of the tides, which at times run in
one direction for several days successively, and with
great rapidity. In the numerous narrow channels
which divide the smaller islands, their rapidity is some-
times so great that it resembles water issuing through
asluice. The regular and periodical influence of the
monsoons is slightly felt, the winds partaking more of
the nature of land and sea breezes. To these circutn-
stances must be attributed the great uniformity of the
temperature, the absence of a proper continual and
periodical rainy seagon, and the more frequent fall of
showers. Few days elapse without the occurrence of
rain. According to an average of four years, the num-
ber of rainy days was one hundred and eighty-five, and
that of dry only one hundred and eighty. The greatest

uantity of rain falls in December and January, and
the smallest in April and May. ‘These frequent rains
keep the island in a state of perpetual verdure.

The thermometer ranges during the year between
72° and 88°. The mean annual temperature 1s 8U°7°
of Fahrenheit. In the four months succecding
February it rises to 82°50°, and in the four months suc-
ceeding October it sinks to 79°. The daily range of
the thermometer never exceeds ten degrees. Craw-
furd states that the climate of Singapore is remarkably
healthy, which he attributes to the free ventilation that

revails, and to the almost entire absence of chilling
and-winds, but Newbold* thinks that it is not so
healthy as Malacca, and he ascribes this to the less
regular alternations of the land and sea breezes. _

Singapore is not rich in agricultural productions.
No part of it was cultivated when the British took pos-
session of the place, and at first the soil was considered
ill adapted for agricultural purposes. But it now ap-
pears that considerable tracts near the town have been
cleared by the Chinese, and that this industrious people
have succeeded in cultivating different kinds of fruits
and vegetables, rice, coffee, sugar, cotton, and especi-
ally pepper and the betel-vine (Piper striboa). Only
the summits of the higher grounds are barren, but on
their slopes and in the depressions between them the
soil frequently has a considerable degrec of fertility.
Tropical fruits succeed very well, such as the mangus-

* Lieut. Newboldd's ‘ Political and Statistical Account of the
British Settlements in the States of Malacca,’ to which we are
indebted for many of the statements in this article.

142 THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

teen, pine-apple, cocoa-nut, orange, and mango. The
mango is found wild in the forests. The tropical vege-
tables, as the egg-plant, different kinds of pulse, the
yam, the batata, different varieties of cucumber, and
some others, grow very well, but the climate is too hot
for most European vegetables. The produce of the
gee eae as well as of the orchards, is far from
eing sufficient for home consumption, and accordingly
large quantities of rice are imported from Sumatra and
Java, and fruits from Malacca.
The animals of Europe have been introduced, but
most of them are few in number, as pasture-grounds
are scarce. The Chinese, however, keep a great num-
ber of hogs. None of the large quadrupeds of the
continent of Asia, such as elephants, rhinoceroses,
tigers, and leopards, are met with on the island, but
there are several kinds of monkeys, bats, and squirrels ;
also the Jctides, the porcupine, the sloth (Bradypus
didactylus), the pangolin, the wild hog, and two species
of deer, the Moschus pygmaeus, which is smaller than
an English hare, and the Indian roe (Cervus munjac).
Sometimes the dugong (Halicora dugong) is taken in
the straits. It is ten or twelve feet long, and the flesh is
considered for flavour and delicacy not inferior to beef :
the skin is as strong as that of the hippopotamus. Birds
are numerous, especially different kinds of passeres,
climbers, and waders, particularly the first, which are
remarkable for their novelty and beauty. Tortoises
are common. The coral reefs and the shoals in the
vicinity of Singapore furnish that delicate fern-like
sea-weed called aggar-aggar (Fucus Saccharinus) in
abundance, and it forms an article of considerable
export to China, where it is used in thin glues and
varnishes. It is made into a very fine jelly by Euro-
peans and the native Portuguese. The average annual
produce is 6000 peculs, or 7980 cwt., and it is sold at
three dollars the pecul. .
The town of Singapore stands on the southern shores
of the island, in 1° 17’ 22” N. lat. and 103° 51! 45” E.
long., on a level and low plain of inconsiderable width,
fronting the harbour. It extends about two miles along
the shore, but only a thousand yards inland, where it is
enclosed by hills from a hundred to a hundred and fifty
fect high. The commercial portion of the town occupies
the most western extremity, and is separated from the
other parts by a salt creek, called the Singapore river,
whichis navigable forsmallcratt. A good wooden bridge
connects it with the eastern part, .which contains the
dwellings of the Europeans, the public offices, and the
military cantonments. Contiguous to this portion of
the town is the government-house, which is built on a
hill. The most eastern part is occupied by the sultan
of Johore, the Malays, and Bugis. The whole of the
warehouses, and all the dwelling-houses in the princi-
pal streets in their vicinity, are built of brick and lime,
and roofed with red tiles. The more distant dwelling-
houses are built of wood, but roofed with tiles. It is
only on the distant outskirts of the town that there are
huts with thatched roots. The Malays and Bugis live
in huts. The population (16,148 individuals) con-
sisted, in 1836, of 8233 Chinese, 3617 Malays, 2157
Chuliahs and Klings, and the remainder was made up
by Javanese, Bengalees, Bugis, native Christians, and
uropeans. Ships lie in the roads of Singapore at the
distance of from one to two miles from the town,
according to their draught. With the assistance of
lighters, cargoes are discharged and taken in with
scarcely any interruption throughout the year. The
lizhters convey the goods to the river of Singapore,
where they discharge them at a convenient quay, and
at the door of the principal warehouses. There is no
want of common artisans. The Chinese follow the
occupations of shoemakers, bakers, butchers, black-
smiths, gunsmiths, goldsmiths, and carpenters; they

[Apri 9,

also manufacture a sago on an extensive scale, for
the European market, the material being obtained from
the island of Sumatra. They also employ a great
number of forges, in which native arms and domestic
and agricultural implements are made. These latter
articles are mostly sent to the settlements of the
Chinese on the islands of the Indian Archipelago.

The principal public buildings at Singapore are the
fovernment-house, a court-house, a gaol, custom-house,
Mission chapel, and the Singapore Institution. Sir
Stamford Raffles formed a very extensive plan for this
institution, which, however, has not been carried into
effect. At present it consists of three schools, English,
Malay, and Tamu, and the number of scholars amounts
to upwards of seventy. A Chinese school ona large
scale was contemplated in 1837, and has probably been
opened. Some Chinese youths are to be admitted as
students, to reside at the Institution, and to receive in-
struction both in English and Chinese for four or five
years. There are several native schools in the town.

The effect of the policy adopted in the establishment
of a free port in this settlement became immediately
apparent. In the first year, the exports and imports by
native boats alone exceeded four millions of dollars,
and during the first year and a half no less than 2889
vessels entered and cleared from the port, of which
383 were owned and commanded by Europeans, and
2506 by natives: their united tonnage amounted to
161,000 tons. In 1822 the tonnage amounted to
130,689 tons, and the total value of exports and im-
ports to upwards of eight millions of dollars. In 1836
the number of ships entered inwards was 539, the ton-
nage 166,053 ; ships outward 533, tonnage 165,417.
This statement however does not include the native
craft, which are largely used in the intercourse with
Sumatra, the Malay Peninsula, Rhio, Borneo, and the
neighbouring islands, and which in 1836 amounted to
1484, of 37,521 tons, giving a total amounting to
203,574 tons entered at the port in that year. Fora
more detailed account of the commerce of this rapidly
improving settlement, the reader is referred to the
‘Penny Cyclopedia,’ vol. xxii., and to Lieut. Newbold’s
work; but it will probably increase largely in a few
years. If the Chinese government continue the vexa-
tious restrictions on our coinmerce at Canton, it may
be expedient to discontinue the direct commercial in-
tercourse with the Celestial empire. Instead of Can-
ton, the settlement of Singapore would be the market
to which tea and other articles of Chinese industry
would be brought, and our goods adapted for their
consumption would be sold. The consumption of all
these articles, with the exception of opium, would pro-
bably be much increased by such a change, for the
Chinese themselves would be able to sell their goods
at a less price at Singapore than we have hitherto paid
for them at Canton. Our vessels and merchants have
to pay very heavy dues, whilst Chinese vessels pay
very little in comparison, and are almost entirely free

from dues whenever a part of their return cargo con- °

sists of rice. This article is at present always to be
had at Singapore, and might be grown to an indefinite
extent in the eastern districts of Sumatra and in our
Tenasserin provinces, if there was a demand for it.
Thus it is probable that the Chinese junks would be
able to sell tea and other articles at least 10 per cent.
less than we pay for them at Canton; besides, the tea
is brought to Canton by a transport over land of many
hundred miles, whilst the countries in which it grows
are near the sca; and it could be brought directly
from Amoy, Ningpo, and Sanghae, to Singapore, at a
much less expense. The only difference would be,
that our vessels, instead of proceeding to Canton,
would stop at Singapore ; but that can hardly be con-
sidered a loss, when we reflect that the increased con-

1842. ] THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 143

sumption of Chinese goods, in consequence of the de-
crease in price, would certainly be attended by an
increase of our shipping.

OLD AND NEW MODES OF RENDERING
MEAT CHEAP.

In the year 1529 an act was passed entitled ‘ An Act
for the fringing up and rearing of Calves, to increase
the multitude of Cattle ;'* and the preamble set forth
that “ forasmuch as of old time great multitude of cat-
tle was yearly increased by weaning, bringing-up, and
rearing of calves throughout this realm, whereby the
number of oxen, kine, and steers were in such abun-
dance and plenty, that beef and all other victual was
good cheap, and sold to the king’s subjects at reason-
able pennyworths and prices, until now of late years
past, that the breeders of such calves, of their covetous
minds, have used to sell their calves young sucklings
to butchers; weaning, rearing, or bringing-up few or
none, whereby the increase of old cattle, and also the
increase that should or might have come or grown of
the same, is marvellously minished and decreased ;”
and “the great minishing and impairing of good hos-
pitality ” 1s pointed out as one of the consequences of
this state of things. To correct the evil, restrictions
were placed on the killing of calves, although, if it had
arisen from the circumstances stated in the preamble,
the rise of prices would have been quite as efficacious
as a prohibitive enactment. The remedy adopted does
not appear to have been very successful, for, three
years afterwards (in 1532) an act was passed+t for com-
lling the butchers to sell by weight; and the pream-
le notices that formerly meat had been sold at mo-
derate prices, so that “especially poor persons might
with their craft or bodily Nabour buy sufficient for the
necessity and sustentation of them, their wives, ari
children; but now, gracious Lord, all victual, and in
especial beef, mutton, pork, and veal, which is the con-
mon feeding of the mean and poor persons, are so sold
at so excessive price, that your said needy subjects
cannot gain with their labour and salary sufficient to
pay for their convenient victual and sustenance.” The
chief clauses of the statute required butchers to sell by
weight, “the meat to be cut in reasonable pieces, ac-
cording to the request of the buyer,” and the prices
were fixed; thus beef and pork were to be sold at a
halfpenny per 1b., mutton and veal half a farthing
higher, and heads, necks, &c., at a less price. This
very reasonable attempt to coerce the butchers, and, at
a period when prices were generally advancing, to fix
the price of their commodities, could not succeed, as
men would soon forego an occupation which the law
rendered unprofitable, the market would be badly
supplied, and some more stringent course would be-
comé necessary, and which, in the end, would as cer-
tainly fail. e year following the passing of the
above act, another act was passed? for enforcing it in
a more summary manner. It authorised mayors and
sheriffs to commit butchers who sold above the statute
rices, and to sell their stock for them, the butcher,
owever, receiving the proceeds. Another clause
shows that it was not necessary to deal with the
butchers alone, who naturally refused to carry on a
losing trade; and the justices of the peace were re-
uired to assess the price of fat cattle whenever the
armers and grazicrs refused to supply the butchers at
“reasonable” prices, and if the former did not accept
such price, they were bound over to appear in the
Star Chamber. It is true that there is a glimpse of
goog sense in a clause which enabled the king to
susperd the law by proclamation, but an apology was

* 21 Hen. VIII., c. 8. ¢t 24 Hen. VIII, c. 2,
$ 25 Hen. VIIL, c. 1.

made for such a deviation from the maxims of political
economy which were usually recognised in the practi-
cal legislation of that age.

At the present time, the price of meat has for some
ha ds been so high as to encourage an idea that specu-

tors might realise a profit by breeding fresh-water
fish in artificial ponds ;* but a much more rational
mode is proposed by the government, which is, to in-
crease the supply of meat. At present, the importation
of live cattle and fresh meat is entirely prohzbited, but
it is intended to admit oxen at a duty of 20s. cach;
cows, 15s.; calves, 10s.; sheep, 3s.; lambs, 2s.; and
pigs, 5s. Fresh beef, or beef slightly salted, which is
now prohibited, will be subject to a duty of 8s. a cwt.
from foreign countries, and 2s. if from British posses-
sions. The duty on bacon and hams is to be reduced
from 288. to 14s. per cwt.; on salted beef and salted
pork a reduction 1s to be made from 12s. to 8s.; and
a lower duty is to be charged on these articles of

rovision when imported from our colonies, Lard will

e reduced from a duty of 8s. to 2s., and to Gd. if from
a British possession. No reduction is intended in the
duty on butter and cheese froin foreign countries, which
is now 20s. and 10s. a cwt., but a lower rate of duty
(5s. and 2s. 6d.) is to be charged on these articles when
imported from our dependencies.

tis singular that live cattle and fresh meat have
continued gions articles under each of the great
revisions of the tariff which took place in 1787, 1809,
1819, 1825, and 1833, while at the same time we have
been annually importing large quantities of butter,
checse, tallow, hides, skins, wool, and a considerable
amount of salted beef and pork; and even bones, to
the extent of about 40,000 tons. Thus in the year
ending 5th January, 1842, we imported, omitting frac-
tional sums—
251,000 cwts. of butter,
do. cheese,

456,000 do. hides,
473,000 do. wool,

1,225,000 do. tallow,
30,000 do. salt beef,
6,000 do. bacon and hams,

being about 134,000 tons of produce derived from
living and dead animals, while the animals themselves
were altogether excluded.

In 1666 we were patriotic enough to pass an act
prohibiting the Si aoa of Irish cattle, sheep, and
swine, and of Irish beef, pork, and bacon, declaring
the trade to bea ‘common nuisance.” One of the wise
consequences of this measure was to enable the French
navy to be victualled from Cork at a cheaper rate
than our own. A writer of 1670 says, “ The ends
designed by the acts against the importation of Irish
cattle, of raising the rents of the lands of England, are
so far from being attained, that the contrary hath en-
sued.”* In 1759 the act was repealed, but until a
better policy prevailed i may be considered rather as
having been suspended; and Adam Smith, writing
nearly twenty years afterwards, notices “ the small
number of Irish cattle imported since their importa-
tion was permitted.” The case is very different now,
not only in consequence of an increased demand in
England, but from greater facilities of shipment.
‘‘ Before the establishment of steam-navigation, many
inconveniences and difficulties attended the transport
of Irish cattle. Many of them were driven a hundred
or a hundred and fifty miles to the coast, where, if the
wind was contrary, they were detained perhaps several
days, with a very scanty allowance of food. They had

* ¢ Quarterly Review,’ February, 1812.

+ ©The Church and State in Equal Danger with Trade,’ by
Roger Coke: quoted in Tooke’s ‘ History of Prices,’ vol. i,
p- 24.

144

none on the voyage; and when they had arrived at the
English shore, they were often in a starved state, and
scarce able to walk.’* The construction of canals and
the improvement of rivers in Ireland, some of which
are navigated by steam-boats, render even the journey
to the coast as easy and rapid as across the Channel,
while the verdant pastures of the Green Island are
better adapted for grazing than many of the English
counties, especially those in which the great manufac-
turing towns of Liverpool, Manchester, and Leeds are
situated. Cattle dispatched from Ireland on one day,
may, without any of the uncertainties of sailing vessels,
reach the markets of Lancashire early on the followin

day; or they may be slaughtered in the afternoon o
one day, and the next morning the carcasses may be

cut up in the butchers’ shops at Liverpool and Man-.

chester; and since the opening of the great lines of
railway, both live and dead cattle from Ireland are
supplied to a much greater distance from the English
ort than formerly. 1n 1838 the freight of cattle trom

ublin to Liverpool was from 5s. to 12s., according to
their size; sheep were 2s. per head, and pigs from
1s. 6d. to 4s. each; from Derry to Liverpool a fat cow
could be conveyed for 10s. 6d. ; sheep, 1s. 10d. ; lambs,
l1s.; and from other ports in the same proportion. A
fleet of about eighty steamers, many of them very fine
and powerful vessels, is now constantly passing from
all the ports of Ireland between Cork and London-
derry, to the ports of Great Britain, from Bristol to
Glasgow, making probably altogether not much less
than from 8000 to 10,000 voyages a year. From
Dublin to Liverpool nine-tenths of the cargoes consist
of live-stock. In the ten years from 1825 to 1835 the
import of Irish butter increased from 474,000 to 827,000
ewt., and swine increased from 66,000 to 376,000 in
number. In these ten years the exports of Ireland,
which consist almost entirely of agricultural produce,
increased from 9,243,0002. to 16,693,000/. In the course
of time, under the proposed new tariff, there will
doubtless be a very large increase of those articles of
foreign production which comprise some of the most
necessary articles of daily consumption. From the
Baltic to the Tagus there a a constant commercial in-
tercourse with Great Britain by steamers of large
size, which perform their voyages with a certainty and
rapidity previoudly unknown. New York, Boston, and
Halifax, by means of the splendid steamers which cross
the Atlantic, are placed within twelve days’ or a fort-
night’s distance. ith the West India Islands and the
Gulf of Mexico, from New Orleans to Guiana, the
Intercourse with England is already about to be carried
on by steam-boats; and with Rio Janeiro and Buenos
Ayres a more rapid communication with England will
in no great length of time be opened by means of
steam-navigation ; and we shall doubtless receive from
these places a variety of articles which nobody would
have thought of committing to the uncertainties of the
winds.

The countries nearest to England are unable to
spare a supply either of cattle or meat. France and
Belgium are under the necessity of importing both, and
they receive supplies from Holland and Germany. Pro-
ceeding farther northward the supply is greater than
the demand for home consumption, and there will in
all probability be a considerable quantity of corned and
slightly salted meat, if not of cattle, sent to England.
It is remarkable, also, that wherever a communication
by steam exists between England and any part of the
Continent, the greatest exertions have been made to
extend the facilities of communication with the port of
shipment, in order that the internal parts of the country
might benefit by the rapid communication with the
English coast.

* « Cattle—Library of Useful Knowledge,’ p. 186. .

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

[Aprit 9,

Hamburg, which is the natural emporium of the
countries watered by the Elbe, exports annually
7,500,000 Ibs. of salted meat, including bacon and
hams, or about 3500 tons. The average price is 50s.
per cwt. of 186 lbs. An ox weighing 650 lbs. sells
usually for about 12/., and the duty on importation
here would be 20s.; cows sell for 10/. or 112.; the
sheep are small, and one of 60 Ibs. sells for 20s. The
pees of meat are 34d. to 4d. per lb. ; veal and mutton

. and 6d. At Kiel, an ox of 600 Ibs. sells for only
7/.; and a sheep of 80 lbs. for 20s. Fresh meat is from
4d. to 6d. per 1b. At Lubeck the price of an ox weigh-
ing 600 Ibs. is from 122. to 124.; and one of 500 Ibs. is
about 53.10s. Beaf, pork, and veal are 4}¢., and mut-
ton 3}d. per Ib. At Rostock, an ox of 600 lbs. sells
at from 102. to 12/.; cows from 3%. 10s. to &#.; beef is
3d. to 34d. ; and veal, mutton, and pork are 4d. per lb.
At Stettin meat is about the same price, with the ex-
ception of mutton, which is from 24d. to 3d. per Ib., and
salted beef or pork is from 5d. to 54d. per lb. At
Dantzic, an ox of 550 lbs. may be bought for 62. 15s.;
and meat of all kinds is 4d. per pound. Hams are 44s.
pet cwt. ; salted meat 1s 44d. per lb.; and pork 68s. per

arrel of 196 lbs. At Elsinore salted meat is lower
than at Dantzic.*

Of all the above places Hamburg is most celebrated
for the excellence of its salt meat, which includes beef,
ae bacon, hams, tongues, sausages, and smoked

eef. A navy tierce of salt beef, containing 38 eight-
pound pieces, would cost 4/. 3s.; the freight, insurance,
and other charges would be 5s.; to which must be
added the duty of 8s. the cwt. A navy tierce of pork,
containing 80 four-pound pieces, is subject to exactly
the same charge, and would cost 4/. lls. Hamburg
could export at present about 1,800,000 Ibs. of salt
beef, and 3,000, lbs. of salt pork. With the
prices above mentioned, it is said that a profit could be
made of from 10s. to 17s. 6d. per tierce on the importa-
tion of salt beef and pork into England. Smoked beef,
which loses about 25 per cent. in drying, costs about
53d. per Ib.

Dantzic is attempting to rival Hamburg in the salt
provision trade, and is quite successful as regards pork,
which is all corn-fed; but the oxen are not so well
adapted for pickling, m consequence of being worked
in the plough for four or eight years, and then chicfly
fed on the refuse of the distilleries.

Under a low rate of duty salt meat could be su
lied at a cheap rate from South America. Sir Wood-
ine Parish states that “‘a Guacho would at one time

kill an ox for the tongue, or any other part of the animal
he might fancy for his dinner, and leave the rest of the
carcass to be devoured by the vultures, or by the wild
dogs ;” but there is now less waste. Jerked beef is ex-
tensively exported from Buenos pee to Brazil and
Cuba, but its importation is not allowed in our West
Indian colonies, although, as Sir Woodbine Parish
states, the best quality might be delivered there under
2d. a lb., allowing for a moderate duty.t It is ex-
tremely wholesome food. The ‘charke’ (dried beef)
of Chili ig prepared in such a manner as to be fit for
export, and can be sold at the rate of 2d. and 3d. per
lb. A brief account of the mode of preparing it is
given in Sutcliffe’s ‘Sixteen Years in Chili.’ It is the
common food of the Chilians, and is eaten cither
roasted, boiled, or made into a mess. Should the im-

rtation of animal food take place to any great extent,
it would prove a great advantage to the most laborious
part of the population, who in too many cases scarcely
taste meat from one year’s end to another.

* Mr. Meek's ‘ Report to the Government,’ Dec., 1841.
t ‘Buenos Ayres,’ &c., by Sir Woodbine Parish, p. 348,

——e_

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{The Common Robinia, or Locust-Tree—(Robinia Pseud- Acacta) or False Acacia.)

THE ACACIA, OR LOCUST-TREE.

Tus tree isa native of North America, where three
Varieties are common, the red, green, and white, so
called from the colour of the heart-wood; and in the
Western states there is a variety known as the black
locust, but the variations are probably occasioned
solely by differences of soil, situation, and climate.
Where these are favourable, the locust-tree attains a
height of seventy or eighty feet, and the trunk varies
from two to three or even four feet in diameter; but
as 1t is very seldom found growing straight to any con-
siderable height, the timber is not adapted for so many
useful purposes as might be inferred from its valuable
qualities, The very numerous branches often contain
as Many cubie feet as the main trunk. The branches
are armed with strong hooked spines. The leaves,
Which close themselves at night, are remarkable for
their smoothness, and while the sycamore especially, and
many other trees, soon lose their freshness and verdure

No. 644,

when planted by the side of a public road, the dust will
not lie on the smooth surface of the locust-leaf. The
tree produces white or yellowish flowers, which hang
very gracefully in bunches, and are of an agreeable
fragrance, retaining their perfume after being gathered,
and fortaing by decoction a very pleasant beverage,
while the roots have a saccharine flavour resembling
liquorice. The locust-tree commences forming heart-
wood in its third year, a peculiarity which distinguishes
it from other trees, in which this operation does not
usually take place until the tenth or fifteenth year,
There are two other species of the locust-tree cultivated
in England, one pesipvieped by the clammy secretion
of the bark, and the other by the size and beauty of its
flowers, which renders it a great ornament of the lawn
and shrubbery. It is often trained on an espalier rail
or against a wall, anda hedge formed of this species is
a very beautiful object in the flowering season.
The locust-tree has been eer propagated In
Europe, especially in France and England. It 1s

VoL. XI.—U

146

named in honour of Robin, a Erench botanist, who was
gardener, herbalist, or arborist to Henri IV.; and
Vespasian Robin, son of the above, is said to have been
the first who cultivated the tree in Europe. In Par-
kinson’s ‘ Theatre of Plants,’ published in 1640, it is
said that specimens of good size were then growing in
Tradescant's garden at Lambeth; and as no allusion is
made to the tree either in the first or second edition of
Gerard’s ‘ Herbal,’ published in 1597 and 1629, it is to
be presumed that the date of its first introduction into
England was not earlier than the last-mentioned year.
In 1664 Evelyn published his ‘ Sylva,’ and the locust-
tree had then been extensively planted in St. James’s
Park. From that period to the present it has been
treated with singular caprice—at one time extolled
beyond its deserts; next visited with the contumely
and scorn which befalls discarded favourites ; and after
this fluctuation of opinion, it has again been reccived
into public favour. Its merits are now sufficiently
well known, and it will be difficult for any one to
remove it out of the rank which experience has
assigned to it. About twenty years ago the late Mr.
Cobbett produced quite a mania for the locust-tree in
this country. He wrote in its favour, in his plain,
nervous, and powerful style; and beguiled his readers
by the apparent strength of his own convictions. A
few years afterwards he gave a temporary impulse to
the cultivation of Indian corn by the same means.
The timber of the locust-trec he described as “ abso-
lutely indestructible by the powers of earth, air, and
water.” This “tree of trees,” he predicted, would, at
no distant day, be ‘more common In England than the
oak, when a man would be thanght mad if he used
anything but locust in the making of sills, posts, gates,
Joists, feet for rick-stands, stocks and axle-trees for
wheels, hop-poles, or for anything where there is lia-
bility to rot. The next race of children but one, that
is to say, those who will be born sixty years hence, will
think that locust-trees have always been the most nu-
merous trecs in England.” This characteristic passage
was written in 1823, at which time Mr. Cobbett was
importing tous of seed and trees from America, and
was unable to supply the demand, while in the old
nurseries the ‘ Robinia Pseud-Acaciz’ were neglected
until they pissed through Mr. Cobbett’s hands under
the more favoured name pf the locust-tree, which was
scarcely applied to the tree in this country before this
time, although it has now to a considerable extent
superseded the older name of acacia.

he growth of the locust-tree in a good sandy loam
is undoubtedly very rapid. In the course of four years
ithas been known to attain a height of sixteen and even
nineteen feet, and many persons were induced to plant
it extensively for hop-poles; but it does not grow
straight cnough for this purpose, and it is not more
durable than the poles of other trees. In ten years the
locust-tree reaches a height of twenty, thirty, and even
forty feet, when its increase is slow. It attains matu-
rity at the age of thirty or forty years, but seldom
contains more than forty or fifty cubic feet of timber.
A tree at Tavenham, Norfolk, contained eighty-nine
feet and a half, but this was regarded as an extraor-
dinary specimen, and the silver firs which had grown
up along with it contained one hundred and fifty feet
of timber. Mr. Loudon has industriously collected,
in his ‘ Arboretum,’ the result of various experiments
made at the government dock-yards and clsewhere
to determine what the actual qualities of the locust-
tree really were; and from these investigations it
appears that sound acacia-wood of the red species,
grown in good soil and ina favourable situation, is
“heavier, harder, stronger, more rigid, more elastic,
and tougher than the best English oak.” Butthen the
form of the tree is such that it furnishes tiinber for

THE PEWNY

MAGAZINE. (ApRix 16,
only a limited number of useful purposes. Its supe
riority for trenails, used in ship-building instead of
iron bolts, is undeniable, and it is in consequence
imported for the government and other building-yards.
For posts and fences it is also found very valuable
both in Europe and America, and in the latter country
it is preferred to all others, except the red mulberry,
in the putting together of frame or half-timbered
houses. The cabinet-makers work up the locust-tree
in America, and it is used by turners asa substitute
for box. When a fence is made from the wood of
young trees, it does not appear to possess more durable
qualities than the ash or other common trees.

The locust-tree is a great ornament to the lawn,
where it should stand singly, and if planted in grou
in the shrubbery, ample room should be allowed for
the development of the branches, and at the same
time they should be sheltered from the most violent
winds. Though its drip is less injurious than any
other tree to any kind of vegetation which it over-
hangs, yet as the roots spread laterally at no great depth
below the surface, it exhausts the soil in its neigh-
bourhood. Gilpin remarks, in his ‘Forest Scenery,’
that the locust-tree, then generally called the acacia,
“is of all trees the least able to endure the blast. In
some sheltered spot it may ornament a garden, but it
is by no means qualified to adorn a country. Its wood
is of so brittle a texture, especially when it is encum-
bered with the weight of foliage, that you can never
depend upon its aid in filling up the pat you wish.
The branch you admire to-day, may be demolished
to-morrow. The misfortune is, the acacia is not one
of those grand objects, like the oak, whose dignity is
often increased by ruin. It depends on its beauty,
rather than on its grandeur, which isa quality more
hable to injury. We may add, however, in its favour,
that if it be easily injured, it repairs the injury more
quickly than any other tree. Few trees make so
rapid a growth.” The locust-trees which Evelyn
notices in 1666 as having been planted in St. James’s
Park, are stated by a writer in 1712 to have been cut
down “in consequence of some of their branches
being broken by the wind.” Miller, in the sixth edi-
tion of his ‘Dictionary,’ published in 1752, remarks
that locust-trees were ‘formerly in great request
in England, and were frequently planted in avenues
and for shady walks; but their branches being gene-
rally broken or split down by the wind in summer,
when they are clothed with leaves, the trees are ren-
dered improper for this purpose, and their leaves
coming out late in the spring and falling off early in
the autumn, occasioned their being neglected for
many years; but of late they have been much in
request again, so that the nurseries have been cleared
of these trees, though in a few years they will be as
little inquired after as heretofore, when those which
have been lately planted begin to have their ragged
appearance.” This “prophetic strain,” the result of
knowledge and experience, was somewhat nearer the
truth than the other prediction we have given ; it was,
in fact, actually verified

THE BASQUE PROVINCES.

Tne three provinces known by the name of the Basque
Provinces occupy a territory of a form almost trian-
gular, between 42° 25’ and 43° 25’ N. lat., and 1° 40’
and 3° 25’ W. long. It is bounded on the east by
France and Navarre, on the west and the south by Old
Castile, and on the north by the ocean. The provinces
are, Guipuzcoa on the east, Viscaya on the west, and
Alava on the south. The oe is exceedingly
mountainous, being traversed by the offsets of the

1812.] THE PENNY
great Pyrenean chain, called by some geographers the
Cantabrian Pyrenees. The different branches of that
chain form between them numerous and deep lateral
valleys. The first of these ranges, which is composed
partly of calcarcous rocks and sandstone, and partly of
slate, has its origin in Navarre, and forms the separation
between that province and Alava. A second range
runs from the valley of Burunda, and extends from
north to south, between Navarre and Alava, forming
the western barrier of the former province. The moun-
tain of Jaitzquibel, which extends from Cape Higuer
to Passages, on the coast of Guipuzcoa, is chiefly com-
posed of sandstone, which is used in building. From
Orio to San Sebastian, in the same province, another
mountain extends, on the highest point of which, called
Igueldomendi, stands the lighthouse of San Sebastian,
visible at the distance of thirty miles at sea. In the
district of Irun isthe mountain of San Marcial, cele-
brated in the late Peninsular war. The mountains of
- Vizcaya are chiefly composed of calcareous rock and
sandstone, and abound in iron. Marbles of various
colours are also found in different parts of the province.
In the three provinces the mountains are well covered
with fruit and timber trees. The principal rivers are
the Zadorra, in Alava, a tributary of the Ebro; in Viz-
caya, the Nerva or Nervion, the Cadagua, the Mundaca,
the Lequeitio, and the Ondarreo, all of which rise in the
mountains of Bizcarqui and Oiz, and flow into the sea
at the places to which they give their names. In
Guipuzcoa, at the extreme west, is the Deva; and
proceeding to the east, the Urola, the Orio, the Urumea,
the Oyarzun, and the Bidassoa, which separates Frarice.
from Guipuzcoa. The aspect of the country is very
picturesque, and the soil, although it is chiefly composed
of clay, is rendered very productive by the industry of its
inhabitants. Froma very early period they have mixed
the clay with calcareous earth. The principal pro-
ducts are wheat, barley, pulse, flax, hemp, and pasture.
Alava produces also oil, and a weak sort of wine, called
chacoli by the inhabitants; but the lai beverage
of the Basques is cider. The climate is healthy, and
though very damp and cold in the highlands, is tempe-
rate in the valleys.

The chief towns in Guipuzcoa are, Fuente-Rabia,
at the mouth of the Bidassoa; Passages, celebrated for
the security of its harbour; San Sebastian, the capital
of the province ; and Guetaria, the birth-place of Sebas-
tian de Elcano, a celebrated navigator of the sixteenth
century, whose statue is in the Oe square. In
Vizcaya, Motrico, Lequeitio, Berméo, Bilbao, the capi-
tal, and Somorastro, celebrated for its iron-mines. In
Alava the chief towns, besides the capital, Vitoria, are
Salvatierra, Lequiano, and Gamboa.

The population of the three provinces, according to
Miitano, amounts to 342,929 souls. The peuple live
for the most part on isolated farms, scattered over the
country, there being in the three provinces few large
towns; the greatest part of these farms are cultivated
by the proprietors. Guipuzcoa is the best peopled, not
only of the Basque, but of all the provinces of Spain,
in proportion to its extent. Antillon gives it 2009
individuals for every square league ; according to which
calculation, the population of the whole Peninsula, if
it were in the same proportion, would be more than
double what it is at present.

The Basque nation is certainly the first that settled
in the Spanish peninsula, as far as historical evidence
goes, but its origin is unknown. Humboldt considers
the modern Basque nation as the representative and
the descendants of the great nation of the Iberi, who
were spread over the whole Peninsula, and spoke one
Janguage, modified into different dialects. This lan-
guage—Léngua Bascongida, called also by the Spa-
niards Bascuence and Vizcaino, and by the French

MAGAZINE. 147
Basque—is now spoken only by the people who inhabit
the Basque provinces, and part of Spanish and French
Navarre. The people call themselves Euscaldunac,
their country Euscalerria, and their language Euscara
or Euara. The Basque language is gencrally supposed
to be totally different from all the European lan-
guages, an assertion from which entire assent may be
reasonably withheld for the present. It is also loosely
said to bear some affinity, if not in its roots, at least in
construction, to some of the Asiatic tongues. If we
are to believe the Basque grammarians, their language
existed before the building of the Tower of Babel,
and was brought to Spain by Jubal. Setting aside
such extravagancies, it may be remarked that the testi-
monies adduced to prove that the Basque lanruage
was spoken by all, or nearly all, the primitive inha-
bitants of the Peninsula are so numerous and con-
clusive, as to amount almost to a demonstration. <Ac-
cording to the Basque historians, at an epoch long
before the invasion of Spain by the Romans, the Vas-
cones founded colonics in France, Ireland, and Iialy.
Though their assertions cannot be satisfactorily proved,
yet the number of Basque words existing in the names
of places in Italy, of which Orvieto and Urbino may
be quoted among others, is perhaps a sufficient proof
that some of the inhabitants of both these countries
once spoke the same language.

In the time of the Romans, the people now called
Basque were called Vascones, and in the fifth century
of our era they were known by the name of Varduli.
The territory which they occupied in ancient times
extended on both sides of the Pyrenees, and comprised
the three Basque provinces, and both Shanish and
French Navarre. They were the only Spaniards who
pied their independence, not having been subdued

y any of the nations who invaded the Peninsula.
Pompey was the first who, in the year 60 n.c., led the
Roman legions into that country; but the passage of
Strabo quoted to prove that he built Pamplona, was
evidently not intended by the author to signify any-
thing of the kind. A body of Vascones is mentioned
by Tacitus as serving against Civilis and the Batavi.

No less obstinate was their resistance against the
Goths. Leovigild effected their final conquest, a.p. 580.
At that period, it is stated by the Basque historians
that their nation obeyed a lord called Andeca, whio
had the title of Duke of Cantabria, and perished with
King Don Rodrigo at the battle of Guadelete, in 717.
In the year 1200, Alonso VIII. of Castile, in his wars
against the king of Navarre, invaded Alava and Gui-
puzcoa, and those provinces were united to Castile,
the king taking the customary oath to maintain their
privileges. The Lord of Vizcaya was already an ally
of the Castilian king.

The Vizcayan historians count nineteen lords, the
last of whom was Nuno de Lara, after whose death
the lordship was successively in the posscssion or
Pedro the Cruel, of Castile, his brother Don Tello,
and Don Juan of Aragon. After the defeat of Pedro
by his brother Enrique, the latter conferred the title
ot Lord of Vizcaya on his eldest son, afterwards Juan I.
of Castile, from which time the kings of Castile have
had that title. ;

The government of the Basque provinces differs
entirely from that of the rest of the Peninsula. Every
province has its own constitution, and a separate
government, not differing much in spirit and form
trom each other. The people of Alava, at a very
remote epoch, which some historians suppose to have
been prior to the invasion of the Arabs, appointed
their civil and military governors at a general assembly.
This assembly met every year in the Campo de Arriaga,
a plain near Vitcria. Jt was al ara of the bishop
and archdeacon cf Calahorra, of all the — clergy

148

of the province, and all the principal men; including
also ladies, who were the representatives of their fami-
lies. This junta was afterwards known under the
name of La Hermandad de Arriaza, or the Fraternity
of Arriaga. They elected four alcaldes for the civil
and judicial administration of the province, and a
military governor, who was called duke, count, or lord.
In the year 1467, at an assembly held at Rivabellosa
by order of Enrique IV. of Castile, a collection of the
laws and privileges of Alava was formed and approved ;
and by that code they are governed at present. Accord-
ing to this code, a Junta-General is held at Vitoria
every year, at which two commissaries are elected,
one of whom must bea citizen inhabiting one of the
towns, and another from the small villages. There
is also a Diputado-General, who presides at the assem-
blies, but has no voice in them; he commands the
forces of the province, and communicates with the
rovernment of Madrid. The province is divided into
fifty-three Hermahdades, administered by seventy-five
Alcaldes, elected at the Junta-General.

The Guipuzcoans, according to their present consti-
tution, hold a Junta-General, or general asscmbly,
every year, in the month of July, at one of the cightcen
towns of the province. At this junta they elect four
diputados-generales, who must be domiciliated at San
Sebastian, Tolosa, Azpeitia, or Azcoitia. These di-
putados, who are elected for one year, form the Di-
putacion, which is the government of the provinces ;
the government reside, in rotation, three years in each
of the four towns just mentioned. There is also a
diputacion called Extraordinaria. There are besides
Alcaldes de Hermandad, to administer justice in the
different districts. These alcaldes are eight, and are
elected by the junta. Besides these alcaldes, whose
Office is to prosecute robbers and other malefactors,
there are seventy-seven Alcaldes Ordinarios, to admi-
nister justice in their respective districts.

The Vizcayans hold a general assembly every two
years. It is summoned by the Corregidor of Bilbao,
and every town, village, or hamlet has one vote, and
sends one deputy to it. The first meeting is always
held under an oak near the town of Guernica. There
is another junta, called of Merindad, which is held at
Bilbao, an in which only the towns have a vote, each
sending one member. The Junta de Merindad ap-
points every year, by lot, the Diputacion, which is
composed of two diputados, six regidores, two syndics,
and two secretaries. The two diputados are some-
times appointed by acclamation of the junta. The
Junta de Merindad is very often more powerful than
the Junta-General; and the laws cnacted in it have
the same force as those made in the latter assembly.

The Diputacion is entrusted with the administration
of the province ; itreceives and expends the public funds,
disposes of the forces for the defence of the state, gives
letters of citizenship to strangers, and is the supreme
tribunal of appeal in civil matters. There is no build-
ing belonging to the state; even the house of the Di-
putacion and the prisons belong to private individuals,
who let them to the state. The people pay only one
direct tax, which consists ina moderate rate for every
house, and is equally divided, so that rich and poor
contribute to the state the same sum. The revenues
of the church are so scanty, that the mehcst abadia, or
rectory, 18 not worth more than 1601. per annum.

The chief privileges of the Vizcayans consist in

aying no taxes except those levied by their juntas;
mm every Vizcayan being by birth an hidalgo, or gen-
tleman, and acknowledged as such in every part of
Spain; in not being subject to any tribunal, or to any
other laws, cither in their own province or in any
other part of the Peninsula, than their own, and in
having a judge resident at Valladolid for the adminis-

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

[Apri 16,

tration of those laws in cases occurring out of the pro-
vince ; in being exempt from military service, except
in the defence of their own country; in the enjoyment
of commercial liberty ; and, finally, in not having any
officers appointed by the government of Madrid, ex-
cept the masters of the post-office. The Basques of
all the three provinces also contribute to the royal ex-
chequer a certain sum, which they call “ donativo
voluntario,”” or voluntary donation.

The Vizcayans and Guipuzcoans are the best sailors
in the Peninsula, and skilful in commercial transac-
tions. They are very active and industrious; their
chief occupations are agriculture, commerce, and the
manufacturing of iron. The women assist the men in
the cultivation of the ground, and are remarkable for
their cleanliness. Their manners are simple and easy.
They are fond of dancing in their festivities, and en-
joying the moderate pleasures of the table. ‘Their
national instruments are the tambourine and the ‘bag-
pipe: their dance called zorzico is quick and lively,
and is always accompanied by singing. In their wed-
dings they greet the bride in going to and coming
from the church, by firing guns and pistols, and very
often she is induced to fire them herself. In some
villages, after the burial ceremony is over, they is-
tribute bread, cheese, wine, and walnuts among the
persons invited, and some beg money to pay for
masses for the release of the soul of the deceased from
purgatory. The dress of the men and women is
similar to that of the mountaineers of Castile: both
wear abarcas, a species of shoe which is made of a
hard and untanned piece of hog-skin, or that of any
other animal, which they soften by soaking it in
water, and then cut it into pieces of the size of the
foot, which they fasten on with strings.

The Basques are in general frugal, cheerful, honest,
and courteous, without meanness. When kindly
treated, they are docile and manageable; but if they
are dealt with severely and harshly, they become
stubborn and intractable, and it is for that reason that
they are with great difficulty subjected to severe mili-
tary discipline, particularly by officers who are not of
their own country. Gonzalo de Cérdoba, from the ex-
perience he had of them in Sicily, often said that he
would rather keep lions than Vizcayans. They are a
brave pole and better adapted for a system of
guerrilla warfare than any other in Spain.—(Abridgecd
Jrom the Penny Cyclopedia.)

Eastern Method of Measuring Time.—The pore of the Fast
measure time by the length of their shadow. Hence, if you ask
aman what o’clock it is, he immediately goes into the sun, stands
erect, then looking where his shadow terminates, he measures his
length with his fect, and tells you nearly the time. Thus the
workmen earnestly desire the shadow which indicates the time
for leaving their work. A person wishing to leave his toil says,
“ How long my shadow is in coming?” * Why did you not come
sooner?” ‘ Because I waited for my shadow.” In the seventh
chupter of Job we find it written, “* As a servant earnestly desiretl
his shadow. —oberis's I//ustrations.

Railroads in Germany.—The Prussian ‘State Gazette’ gives
the following summary of the actual state of railroads in Ger-
many :—It isin German miles.

Miles. Dollars.
Lines finished 1754 eteenecee cost 38,940,000
Do. constructing 1664 ...ccsece 43,357,000
Do. granted 12 ik eoservccee 27,2 40,000
Do. projected 333 eoseecoven SS ee
Do. branches 19S: Aceeescus 43,816,000
1022}

A German mile is equal to 4-6 English, giving a total of about
4700 English miles,

°¥ ¢ JIG ee Se <a * me
E ae Pt TE ae —
rr BE aaa y yy, es

THE PENNY MAGAZINE

149

Se
—~— ee

(Building of Westminster Bridge.—From a Picture by Canale:t.}

WESTMINSTER BRIDGE.

THE metropolitan world of the present and the latter
half of the last century seems to have been seized with
a very sudden and sweeping determination to get rid
of a variety of circumstances which, however annoy-
ing or mischievous in themselves, have been borne
most patiently by our forefathers from time imme-
wil iy It is truly surprising to walk through the
principal thoroughfares of London, and mark how en-
tirely everything in the shape of street magnificence,
street cleanliness, or street comfort that meets the eye
belongs to the existing or the preceding generation.
Let accident or necessity take us where innovation has
not yet appeared, to any of those oe or districts, —
growing smaller and fewer every day, which yet pre-
serve for our instruction a few glimpses of the over-
hanging houses, the alley-like streets, the din, the
danger, and filth surroun ng the whole, like another
atmosphere, which so recently characterised London
generally; and it does seem difficult to understand
how senses of vision, hearing, or smell, constituted
like our own, could have ever regarded such nuisances
with complacency. It may be supposed that only the
poorer and less prominent neighbourhoods or tho-
roughfares were of this kind. So far, however, was
this from being the case, that the highway to and
recincts of the chief courts of justice, of the houses of
egislature, and of the great Abbey, the foremost
objects of attention to all foreign visitors, the constant
places of resort of all the most distinguished English-
men, were but a century ago in a condition which we
should say St. Giles’s or Bethnal Green now but faintly
emulates. But evidence will satisfy the most incredu-
lous, On the 27th of January, 1741, Lord Tyrconnel, in
moving for leave to bring in a bill for the better
paving and cleansing the streets within the city of West-
minster and the liberties thereof, and for preventing
nuisances therein,” said, “ It isimpossible, Sir, to come
to this assembly, or to return from it, without observa-
tions on the present condition of the streets of West-
minster, observations forced on every man, however
inattentive, or however engrossed by reflections of a

different kind....The filth, Sir, of some parts of the
town, and the inequality and ruggedness of others,
cannot but, in the eyes of foreigners, disgrace our
nation, and incline them to imagine us a people not
only without delicacy, but without government ; a herd
of barbarians, ora colony of Hottentots.” From other
notices also, we learn that the Houses of Parliament
were obliged, from session to session, to publish an
order for the keeping clean the way for the members ;
and that when the monarch came by land to visit them,
it was necessary to throw faggots into the ruts to enable
the unwieldy vehicle of state to pass along with mode-
rate ease. Who that now passes from Charing Cross into
Westminster would suspect he was traversing the yery
localities which Lord Tyrconnel had in view in his
description? But the reformation of the evils more
particularly referred to by the noble lord, connected
with the surface of the ground, is but a type of the
greater changes that have here been wrought. Let us
imagine ourselves following some foreign yisitor from
the City to Westminster acentury ago. As soon as he
turned the corner at Charing Cross, he entered a narrow
street occupying the right side only of the space now
forming Whitehall and Parliament Street, and which,
nowhere very broad, measured in some parts searce
eighteen feet. Continuing his route between the walls
of Whitehall on the left, and the Park on the right, near
the Horse Guards he stopped to admire the stately
proportions of the Banqueting House, almost the
only part of the famous palace which the fire of 1697
had left entire; or to take a last look at Holbein’s
beautiful gate, which he would hear was likely, before
long, to be removed,—the one /oss among all the build-
ings and places to be swept away. Thinking of this
gate, he would care little for the absence of the other
also belonging to Whitehall, which had stood, but a
few years before, at the corner of King Street and
Downing Street, and over which Henry VIII. had
been accustomed to pass from the chambers of the
palace to regale himself with the pleasures of his
tennis-court, his bowling-green, his cock-pit, or his
tilt-yard, or merely with a simple walk in the park.
As the stranger passed along King Street (presenting

150

here and there to this day the same aspect as of old), he
had reason to be thankful if he got safely through with-
out injury to person or apparel, from the confused
throng of pedestrians, horsemen, carts, and coaches
jammed together in that narrow space ; still more for-
tunate was he if some occasion of public ceremony, such
us the king going to open Parliament, had not drawn
him thither. It makes one’s sides ache to think of being
borne along with such a procession through such a
place. Forgetting for a moment the disagreeables of
the way, and the astonishment they bred in him, he
would find the neighbourhood an interesting one.
Near the end of King Street (which then extended to
some little distance on the other side of the present
Great George Street, which was not yet in existence),
he beheld the place rejoicing in the name of Thieving
Lane, through which felons had been formerly con-
ducted (somewhat circuitously, in order to avoid touch-
ing the Sanctuary of the Abbey, where they must have
been freed at once) to the gate-house or prison of the
Abbot of Westminster, standing just by the beginning
of Tothill Street; and close by was the famous Sanc-
tuary itself, occupying the space where now stands the
Sessions House. From King Street the road to the
Abbey and the Houses of Parliament diverged to the left
towards the Thames, but then again turning to the
right, passed between New Palace Yard and the old
decaying houses which stood on that pleasant green-
sward we now see opposite the former with the statue
of Canning conspicuous in front. This part was called
St. Margaret's Lane, and a lane truly it was, hcmmed
in closely by the old Fish-yard, and by parts of the
ancient Palace of Westminster, where, among other
curiosities about shortly to disappear, our visitor
would see two old prisons of the regal habitation,
known respectively as Heaven and Purgatory, in the
last of which was preserved the ducking-stool which
was employed by the burgesses of Westminster for the
punishment of scolds. ‘The lady,” he would be in-
formed, if he was curious in such matters, ‘ was
strapped within a chair fastened by an iron pin or
pivot at one end of a long pole suspended in its middle

y a lofty tressle, which having been previously placed
on the shore of the river, allowed the body of the
culprit to be plunged ‘hissing hot into the Thames;’
when the fervour of her passion was supposed to have
subsided, by a few admonitory duckings, the lever was
balanced by pulling a cord at the other end, and the
dripping Xantippe was exposed to the ridicule of her
neighbours.”’*

The different buildings we have mentioned rendered
St. Margaret’s Lane so narrow, that it has been thought
worthy of note that palisades became absolutely neces-
sary between the foot-path and the road-way, for the
safety of passengers. And when—strange contrast
of magnificence and meanness—the royal vehicle with
its eight gorgeously caparisoned horses floundered
along this miserable road, it had, after setting down the
king at the entrance to the House of Lords, to drive
into the court-yard of Lindsey or Abingdon House,
then standing at the west corner of Dirty Lane (now
Abingdon Street), in order to be able toturn. Where-
ever the visitor looked, it was thesame. The beautiful
architecture of Henry VII.’s chapel required an effort
in order to get tosce it; and Westminster Hall was
in astill worse condition, some of the niches of the
lower part of its front being hidden behind public-
housest and coffee-houses, which were propped up by
it, and which, but for its support, would have spared

* Smith's Antiq. of Westminster,’ vol. i., p. 262.

t The two public-houses which concealed some portion of
the hall were only removed in the beginning of the present
century, when the fragments of eight figures in niches, of exqui-
site workmanship, were discovered.

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

[Aprir, 16,

all trouble of taking down. The gate of the Wool-
staple opposite the Hall, the last remains of the esta-
dblishment to which old Westminster owed so much, he
would be too late to see, as it had been lately (in 1741:
removed, and noticeable was the occasion of that
removal. The last relic of the old monopolising prin-
ciples of business which confined certain advantages to
certain places, was displaced to make room for a struc-
ture which—long desired—was at last only achieved by
a triumph over similar principles, and which was to
open to Westminster a new career of improvement,
not less important and much more brilliant than even
the staple had done, which originally raised West-
minster from a village to atown; in a word, our
stranger, stepping from the Palace Yard into a narrow
lane leading to the water (the site of which now forms
one side of Bridge Strect), beheld the work in progress
which was the immediate cause of all the changes that
rumour said was about to be made in the route through
which he had passed,—he heheld the rising but unfi-
nished piers and arches of the Briper.

The change wrought on the other side of the Thames
has been still more extensive, though none of the in-
terest attached to the removal of ancient and well-
known building belongs to it. In lieu of the present
Westminster Road and the streets ramifying from it in
all directions, gardens extended nearly the whole way
to Kennington Common.

It will be seen from what we have stated that the
present approaches of the bridge formed no part of
the ancient route used by travellers in crossing from
the Middlesex to the Surrey shore, at this part of the
Thames.

Those who may have occasion to cross the river by a
hana from the stairs at the foot of the fine old gate-
way of Lambeth Palace, to Milbank on the opposite
side, are landed on a shelving slope, directly opposite
the end of Market Strect, and a little southward of the
church of St. John the Evangelist. At the top of the
slope stands a little wooden house; that is the old ferry-
house, and the place is that of the old Horse-ferry.
Directly opposite, some hundred yards or so from Lam-
beth Palace, is an opening to an obscure street, still
known as Ferry Street, and one, perhaps both of the
houses which then formed considerable inns, still stand
there ; where travellers were accustomed to wait for
the return of the boat, or for better weather than pre-
vailed at the moment of their arrival, or to stay all
night and sleep there, if the day were far spent, and
themselves somewhat timid. How primitive all this
seems ; one can hardly be satisfied that we are really
speaking of the Thames at Westminster, and a time so
little removed! The Horse-ferry, it appears, belonged to
the Archbishop of Canterbury from time immemorial,
by whom it was leased at a rent of £20, at the timc of the
suppression. On the opening of the bridge both the
archbishop and the lessee received compensation.

THE ATTEMPTS TO REAR SILK-WORMS
IN ENGLAND.

Tne weavers of silk dresses are but little aware of the
numerous and varied attempts which have been made
to produce silk in the British Islands, nor of the causes
which have led to the failure of such attempts. For
centurics there have been ingenious persons who have
directed their attention to this subject; and down to
our own day the hope of ultimate success has not been
abandoned.

It need perhaps hardly be observed, that silk is the
produce of a small worm which flourishes in the warm
climates of Asia and of Italy; and that mulberry-leaves
furnish the kind of food on which the worms subsist.

18142. ] THE PENNY
China has a soil and a climate which tend greatly to
the growth of this kind of tree, and to this circum-
stance has been attributed the great success of the
Chinese silk-culture in that country. The steps by
which the knowledge of silk, as a material for clothing,
reached the countries of Europe, we shall not here
trace; but shall at once state that the rearing of siik-
worms was first carried on in Italy about six hundred
years ago. In the year 1327 the authorities of Modena
drew a revenue from this source by the following ex-
traordinary law:—That the proprietor of every en-
closure should plant at least three mulberry-trees ; and
that all the cocoons or silk-worm pods produced should
be publicly sold in the market, the buyer and seller
paying each a tax to the revenue. From Modena
the rearing of silk-worms spread to other parts of
Italy.

By degrees other countries were made the scene of
attempts to naturalise this little worm. Louis XI.
caused the establishment of plantations for this pur-
pose; and by the time of Henri IV. the mulberry-tree
and the silk-worm were located in Lyonnois, Dauphiné,
Provence, and Languedoc. The last-named monarch
extended the same system to the neighbourhood of
Orleans, gave honours and dignities to the successful
cultivators, and even directed his own attention to the
rearing of silk-worms, at the Tuileries and Fontaine-
bleau. It was found, however, subsequently, that none
of the attempts to rear the worms in the northern parts
of France were permanently successful; the quantity
or the quality of the silk produced (or both) being in-
sufficient to render the attempt profitable. For the
last century the only parts of France where the rearing
has been carried on, on any considerable scale, are the
sunny regions of the provinces bordering on the Medi-
terranean. To induce the peasantry of these provinces
to direct their attention to this subject, Colbert, the
minister of Louis XIV., established nurseries for mul-
berry-trees, and presented the young trees to any pea-
sant or farmer who wished to rear silk-worms; he also
gave a reward of three livres to the cultivator, for
every tree that should be found ina flourishing con-
dition three years after it had been planted.

The success which attended the establishment of
mulberry plantations in the south of France induced
Jaines I. to hope that a similar advantage might be
available for England. After saying that “in a few

ears’ space our brother the French king hath, since

is coming to that crown, both begun and brought to
periection the making of silk in his country, whereby

e has won to himself honour and to his subjects a
marvellous increase of wealth,” James promulgated
his opinion that ‘from the experience of many private
persons who had bred silk-worms for their pleasure,
nothing had appeared to cduse a doubt that these may
be nourished and reared in England, provided there
were a sufficient number of mulberry-trees to supply
thein with food.” We find that James took some singu-
Jar steps for the attainment of the object which he had
in view. He sent circular letters to all the counties of
England, strongly recommending the inhabitants to
plant mulberry-trees. ‘He directed the persons to
whom these letters were addressed to take the oppor-
tunity of the holding of the quarter-sessions, or of any
other public meeting, to persuade and require those
who were able to buy and distribute in the counties
the number of ten thousand mulberry-plants, which
were to be procured in London at the rate of three
farthings per plant. Although at first the public feel-
ing was averse to the novel undertaking, yet the con-
tnuance of the royal sanction and support, and a con-
sideration of the advantages reaped by other European
nations from this source, at length engendered a grow-
ing interest fur the subject. It may also be collected !

MAGAZINE. 151
from some of King James's speeches in the year 1620,
that the people of England in general testified much
interest on this subject.” *

By the time of Charles I., however, the cultivation of
the mulberry and the rearing of silk-worms appear
to have been almost given up; but still mention is
made of a grant made in the year 1629, to Mr. Walter
Aston, of the custody of the garden, mulberry-trees,
and silk-worms “near St. James's, in the county of
Middlesex.” Evelyn, in his ‘ Diary,’ speaks of the
Mulberry-garden, which occupied the spot where
Buckingham Palace now stands; and a recent writer
makes the following observations on the matter :—
‘* How soon after this the silk-worms disa peared, and
the gardens were opened to the gay world in the man-
ner indicated by the quotation from Evelyn, does not
appear. He does not speak of the opening of the
Mulberry-gardens as any thing new. A passage in
Pepys’s ‘ Diary,’ not long after the Restoration, men-
tions a visits to these gardens, but speaks rather dis-
paragingly of their attractions. Buckingham House,
which stood where the central part of the Palace now
stands, was erected by John, duke of Buckingham, in
1703, and the Mulberry-garden attached to the house
as private property. Previously Arlington House, and
a building to which the name of Tart Hall is given
in some old plans, occupied the same site. These
buildings seem to indicate the period at which the
Mulberry-gardens ceased to be a place of public
resort.” +

In 1718 a patent was granted to Mr. John Appleton
for rearing silk in England. He established a joint-
stock company, whose shares were sold at five pounds
each; obtained deed of trust, which he enrolled in
the Court of Chancery; and caused directors to be
chosen for carrying out the objects of the company.
The company then took a lease for one hundred and
twenty-two years of a plot of ground near Chelsea, and
immediately planted two thousand mulberry-trees. A
Mr. Barham, who was a sharcholder in the company,
wrote an essay to prove that the “ glorious undertak-
ing,” as he termed it, was sure to be a mine of wealth
to the Bad pale but the whole affair scems to
have fallen to the ground a year or two afterwards,
aoe ee other commercial speculations of the same

eriod.
In the period of more than a century which elapsed
from 1718 to 1825, repeated attempts were made to
bring this branch of industry to a profitable issue in
England; aided frequently by the encouragement and
premiums of the Society of Arts. But the great test
of success—commercial profit—was in all these cases
wanting. In the last-mentioned year, when companies
were formed as plentifully as in 1718, a “ British,
Irish, and Colonial Silk Company ” was formed, not,
however, wholly from a wild spirit of speculation, but
from a benevolent desire, on the part of some of its
supporters, to ameliorate the condition of the Irish

easantry, by adding to their profitable sources of in-
meg. Righty acres of ground were purchased in the
county of Cork, in which were planted four hundred
thousand white mulberry-trees. Buildings were crected
for carrying on the whole routine of operations con-
nected with the production of silk, and the whole placed
under judicious arrangement. The same company
also purchased a piece of ground near Slough, and
planted it with eighty thousand mulberry-trees. Both
these attempts proved unsuccessful, and were sub-
sequently given up.

One of the circumstances which have led to the uni-
form failure of these attempts isa curious one. In order
that the silk-worms may have their food ready at the pro-

* Porter, ‘ Treatise on the Silk Manutacture.’
+ ‘London,’ yol. i., p. 192: ¢ The Parks.’

152 THE PENNY
Ss,

per time, it is necessary that the mulberry-trees should
come into leaf at the time when the living insects are
hatched. This is comparatively easy in a warm climate ;
but in England it is attended with many difficulties.
Hence search has been made for some other kind of
leafy food which should at the same time be abundantly
supplied and nutritious to the animal. Dr. Bettardi
found that dried mulberry-leaves, preserved from the

receding year, would serve in case of exigency. The

ev. Mr. Swayne made some experiments, in which
he fed one parcel of worms on black mulberry-leaves,
another on white, and a third on lettuce-Jeaves; but
the result showed that none of the worms yielded such
a quantity of silk as is customarily obtained in Ita!y,
and that those which had been fed on fettuce-leaves
yielded decidedly less than the others.

The ‘ Transactions’ of the Society of Arts afford
abundant proofs of the laudable cttorts which have
been made to naturalize these insects in England ;
laudable, because if it could be made a oe em-
ployment for country persons, much good might result
therefrom. Yet all these efforts have failed. Miss
Rhodes, Mrs. Williams, Mrs. Allen, Mademviselle Coge,
and other Jadics both of England and France, have
communicated the results of their experiments on this
point, Some fed the silk-wormis on letituce-leaves only ;
others began with Jettuce-leaves, and afterwards
gave the little insects a portion of their favourite food ;
some had warm buildings constructed on purpose
for the reception of the silk-worms; others devoted
unremitted personal attention to their litle charge.
All produced results sufficient to give a degree of
pleasurable interest to the matter; but none attained
that point where commercial advantages would com-
inence.

About fiftecn years ago the Society of Arts presented
a large silver medal toa lady for a specimen of silk
produced in England. The worms, in this case, were
ted on the common cabbage-lettuce till the Jast time of
changing their skin, when they were put on mulberry-
Jeaves antil. the time of spinning. The silk was subs
initted to a London manutacturer, who found some of
it equal to the finest Fossombrone silk, and worth a
guinea per pound; while other portions were equal to
the usual qualities of silk produced in Naples, Ber-
gamo, and Milan.

The most recent and most interesting experiments
which we have met with on this subject are those of
Mr. Felkin, of Nottingham, communicated to the
British Association at Birmingham, in 1839. Some
allow and pure white cocoons, or silk-balls, were ex-
ubited in an undisturbed state (although the chrysa-
Jides had been killed) upon the twigs where they had
been spun by the silk-worms; the French and Italian
mode of management having been as far as pos-
sible adopted throughout the entire course of the
experiments, The worms had been separated into two
parcels, the one being fed partly on lettuce-leaves and
partly on mulberry-leaves; the other wholly on the
latter. Of the former seven-eighths died without pro-
ducing silk; of the latter, only one-third. The result
showed that if the proper species of insect be selected,
if mulberry-leaves be supplied in sufficient quantity,
and if care and cleanliness be observed in all the
operations, silk may be produced in England in
quantity and quality not much inferior to that of Italy.
But the opinion now generally entertained is, that the
Value of land and of labour in this country, compared
with that of Italy, is so great as to render it improbable
that any great commercial advantages are likely to
result from the prosecution of the silk-culture in
England.

MAGAZINE. [Apri 16,

The Picturesque in Holland —Holtand, the land of cheese and
butter, is, to my eye, no unpicturesque, uninteresting country.
Flat it is; but it is so geometrically only, and im no other sense.
Spires, church towers; bright farm-houses, their windows glanc-
ing inthe 6un; long rows of willow trees—their bluish foliage
ruffling up white in the breeze; grassy embankments of a tender
vivid green, partly hiding the meadows behind, and crowded
with glittering, gaudily-painted gigs, and stool waggons, loaded
with rosy-checked laughing country girls, decked out in ribbons
of many more colours than the rainbow, all a-streaming in the
wind ; these are the objects which strike the eye of the traveller
from seaward, aud form a gay front view of Holland, as he sails
or steams along its coast and up its rivers. On shore the long
continuity of horizontal lines of country in the background, each
line rising behind the other to a distant, level, unbroken horizon,
gives the impression of vastness and of novelty. . . Holland can
boast of nothing sublime; but for picturesque foregrounds, for
close, compact, snug home scenery, with everything in harmony,
and stamped with one strong peculiar character, Holland is a
cabinet picture, in which nature and art join to produce one im-
pression, one homogencous effect. The Datel cottage, with its
glistening brick walls, white-paiuted wood-work and rails, and
its massive roof of thatch, with the stork clappering to her young
on her old established nest on the top of the gable, is admirab]
in place and keeping, just where it is, at the turn of the cai:
shut in by a screen of willow-trees, or tall reeds, from seeing, or
being seen, beyond the sunny bight of the still calm water, in
which its every tint and part is brightly repeated, Then the
peculiar character of every article of the household furniture,
which the Dutch-built house-mother is scouring on the green be-
fore the door so industriously ; the Dutch character is inapressed
on everything Dutch, and intuitively recognised, like the Jewish
or Gipsey countenance, whercver it is met with; the people, their
dwellings, and all in or about them, their very movements in ac-
cordance with this style or character, and all bearing its im-
press stroungly—make this Holland, to my eye, no dull, unim.
pressive land. There is a soul in all you see; the strongly
marked character about everything Dutch pleases intellectu-
ally, as much as beauty of form itsclf. What else is the charm
so universally felt, requiring so little to be acquired, of the
paintings of the Dutch school? The objects or scenes painted
are neither graceful, nor beautiful, nor sublime; but they are
Dutch, They have a strongly marked mind and character
impressed on them, and expressed by them; and every accom-
paniment in the picture has the same, and harmouises with
all around it. . . 3. The Hollander has a decided taste for
the romautic; great amateurs are the Mynheers of the rural.
Every Dutchman above the necessity of working to-day for the
bread of to-morrow has his garden-house (Buyteplaats) in the
suburbs of his town (for the Dutch population live very much
in towns surrounded by wet ditches), and repairs to it on Saturday
evening with his family, to ruralise until Monday over his pipe
of tobacco. Dirk Hatterick, we are told, did eo. It is the main
extravagance of the Dutch middle-class man, and it is often an
expensive one, This garden-house is a wooden box gaily painted,
of eight or ten feet square; its name, “ My Delight,” or “ Rural
Felicity,” or “Sweet Solitude,” stuck up in gilt tin letters on the
front; and situated usually at the end of a narrow slip of ground,
euclosed on three sides with well-trimmed hedges and slimy
ditches, and overhanging the canal, which forms the boundary of
the garden plot on its fourth side. The slip of land is laid out
in flower-becds, all the flowers in one bed being generally of one
kind and colour; and the brilliancy of these large masses of
flowers, the white and green paint-work, and the gilding about
the garden-houses, aud a row of those glittering fairy summer-
lodges, shining in the sun, upon the side of the wide canal, aud
swimming in humid brilliancy in the midst of plots and parterres
of splendid flowers, aud with the accompaniments of gaily-dressed
ladies at the windows, swiftly passing pleasure-boats with bright
burmished sides below, and a whole city population, afloat or on
foot, enjoying themselves in their holiday clothes, form, in truth,
& summer evening scene which one dwells upon with much de-
light. I pity the taste which can stop to inquire if all this hu-
man enjoyment be in good taste or bad taste, vulgar or refined,
I stuff my pipe, hire a boatman to row me in his schuytje up the
canal to a tea-garden, and pass the evening as Dutchly and hap-
pily as my fellow-man.—Laing's Notes of a Traveller.

1842.)

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(‘' A new French Cook, to devise fine kickshaws and toys.’”

THE OLD AND YOUNG COURTIER.—No. IV.
FEASTS AND ENTERTAINMENTS.

ALTHOUGH, as is proyed by the examples given in
Nos. 633 and 642, the real “ good old times” lamented
by the author of the ‘Old and Young Courtier’ were
somewhat farther removed, and the change much less
sudden, than he would lead us to believe, yet enough
remained in the time of Elizabeth to give more than a
mere pantie foundation for the juxta-position with
which he has presented us. On the 18th of May, 1577,
and the four succeeding days, the queen was enter-
tained by the lord keeper Bacon at Gorhambury,*
and the charges, “ warranted by a Book of Particulars,”
amount to 577/. 6s. 74d., besides twenty-five bucks and
two stags. The ancient plentifulness was certainly
pecsered but symptoms apes of the advance of re-

ned luxury; and while we have items of eight oxen,
“in mutton sixty carcases, in yeals eighteen carcases,
in lambs thirty-four carcases,” to an amount of about
75/., we have another of 12/. “to the cooks of London
for their wages’—this class no doubt had alread
begun to “devise fine kickshaws and toys.” Elizabe
herself seems to have adhered to the old substantial
mode ; her own daily diet, as signed by her own hand
in 1576, making no nearer approach to what are now
called ‘“‘made dishes” than ‘ friants, custerd, and
fritter ;"+ her breakfast consisting of “ cheate and man-

* Nichols’s ‘Progresses of Queen Eli » 4to., 18235
vol. ii., p. 55. Nichols says, mistakenly, five succeeding days,
she coming oa Saturday, May 18, “before supper, and continu-
ing until Wednesday after dinner following.”

t * Progresses of Queen Eli ii, p. 8, et seq.

No. 645

cheate (fine wheaten loaves and cakes), ale and beare,
and wine,” of pottage made with mutton and beef, and
of chines of beef, probably cold, rabbits, and butter ;
the dinner of two courses contained beef, mutton, veal,
swan or goose, capons, rabbits, lamb or kid, herons or
pheasants, cocks or godwits, chickens, pigeons, larks,
eggs, and pastry, with fine wheaten bread, ale, beer,
aa wine: supper nearly the same as the dinner. At
the queen’s own table Wednesday and Friday were
kept as fasts, no flesh whatever appearing, though
furnished to the other tables in her household, The
dinner, in two courses, consisted of, first, ‘ling, pike,
salmon, haddock, whitings, gurnards, tenches, birts ;”
second, “sturgeon, conger, carp, eels and lampreys.
chines of salmon, perches, cruez,” with eggs, cream
butter, &c. At such feasts as those held at Kenilworth
and other places, there is no doubt that all novelties,
native and foreign, would be presented, but they are
not to be taken as specimens of the prevailing manners.

Shirley, in his ‘Lady of Pleasure,’ written about
1635, who also notices the trans:tion, makes one of the
characters say—

“ The case is alter’d since we lived i’ the country;
We do not now invite the poor 6 the parish
To dinner, keep a table for the tenauts ;
Our kitchen does not smell of beef; the cellar
Defies the price of malt and hops; the footmen
And coach-drivers may be drunk, like gentlemen,
With wine; nor wil! three fiddlers upon holidays,
With aid of ipes, that called in the acacia |
To dance, and plough the hall up with their hobnails,
Now make my lady merry. We do f
Like princes, and feast nothing else but princes.”

Vou. XI.—X

154 THE PENNY
The more sedate of the new king’s old courtiers did
not, as far as we know, altogether give themselves up
to the new extravagance. The bill of fare given on
the visit of James I. to Houghton Tower, in Lanca-
shire, in 1617, does not display any material advance
towards fine kickshaws, but the enumeration of the
dishes evinces more attention to the cookery, which is
now mentioned. We have boiled ducks, burred veal
and capons, roast venison, turkeys, swans, pigs, and
mutton, with boiled “jiggets’* of mutton and breasts
of veal; venison pasty and mince pies hot, and roast
herons and curlew pie cold; in each course also we
have one entry of a “ made dish:" to this list the names
of the chief cooks and their “labourers” are appended.
Massinger also, in his ‘City Madam,’ makes a coun-
try gentleman plead guilty in the following manner to
the charge of being unfashionable :— |
“ T have other faults, too, very incident
To a plain gentleman; I eat my venison
With my neighbours in the country, and present not
My pheasants, partridges, and grouse to the usurer ;
Nor ever yet paid brokage to his scrivener.
I flatter not my mercers, nor feast her
With the first cherries or peascods, to prepare me
Credit with her husband; when I come to London,
The wool of my sheep, or a score or two of fat oxen
In Smithfield, give me money for my expenses.
I can make my wife a jointure of such lands too
As are not encumber'd, no annuity
Or statute lying on them.”

It is, indeed, in those of our old dramatists who have
given us pictures of the domestic manners of these
periods, that we find the truest and most vivid repre-
sentations, because their satire depended for its effect
upon the known reality and comparative frequency of
the matters alluded to or related. In 1599, Jonson, in
‘Every Man out of his Humour,’ alludes to the grow-
ing luxury of the “city wives,” of whom one of his
characters is made to say, that though generally per-
fect fools, yet “by the fineness and delicacy of their
diet, diving into the fat capons, drinking your rich
wines, feeding on larks, sparrows, potato-pies, and
such good unctuous meats,” their wits are refined and
rarefied. The gross extravagance introduced by the
favourites of James gave an extraordinary impulse
to the craving after novelty and expense in enter-
tainments, rather than any refinement or taste in
cookery. Sir Epicure Mammon, in the ‘ Alchemist,’
nay have had more magnificence, but his imaginings
were not more outré than what we find gravely re-
corded. The dramatist says—

‘© My meat shall all come in, in Indian shells,

Dishes of agate set in gold, and studded

With emeralds, sapphires, hyacinths, and rubies,
The tongues of carps, dormice, and camels’ heels,
Boil’d in the spirit of sol, and dissolved pearl,
Apicius’ diet against the epilepsy ;

And I will eat these broths with spoons of amber,
Headed with diamond and carbuncle.

My foot-boy shall eat pheasants, calver'd salmons,
Kuots, godwits, lampreys; I myself will have
The beards of barbels served instead of sallads ;
Oil’d mushrooms; and the swelling unctuous paps
Of a fat pregnant sow, newly cut off,

Drest with an exquisite and poignant sauce;

For which I'll say unto my cook, There’s gold,
Go forth, and be a knight.”

And again— “We will eat our mullets,
Sous'd in high country wines, sup pheasants’ eggs,
And have our cockles boil'd in silver shells:

Our shrimps to swim again, as when they liv'd,
In a rare butter made of dolphins’ milk,

Whose cream does look like opals; and with these
Delicate meats set ourselves high for ph asure.”

* The French gigct. The word is still commonly used in
Scotlaud for the shoulder of mutton,

MAGAZINE. [Apriz 23,
The historian tells us*—“ In the year 1661 a gather-
ing of marquesscs, lords, knights, and squires took place
at Newcastle, to celebrate a great anniversary, when,
on account of the number of guests, cach was required
to bring his own dish of meat. Ofcourse it was a sort
of competition, in which each strove fur pre-eminence ;
but the specimen of Sir George Goring was reckoned
amasterpicce. It consisted of four huge brawny pigs,
Piping hot, bitted and harnessed with ropes of sausage,
all tied to a monstrous bag-pudding.” In the ‘ Accom-
peed Cook, by Robert May, published 1685, we
ave the following recipe for a herring-pie:—“ Take

salt herrings, being watered: wash them hetween
your hands, and you shall loose the fish frum the
skin: take off the skin whole, and lay them in a
dish; then have a pound of almond-paste ready ; mince
the herrings, and stamp them with the almond-paste,
two of the milts or roes, five or six dates, some grated
manchet, sugar, sack, rose-water, and saffron; make
the composition somewhat stiff, and fill the skins; put
butter in the bottom of your pie, lay on the herring,
and on them dates, gooseberrics, currants, barberrics,
and butter; close it up and bake it; being baked,
liquor it with butter, verjuice, and sugar.”” The same
author also describes how to make “ An artificial hen
made of puff paste, with her wings displayed sitting
upon eggs of the same materials, where, in each of
them, was enclosed a fat nightingale seasoned with
Pepper and ambergris.”

urnace, the cook, in Massinger’s ‘ New Way to pay
Old Debts,’ who boasts of himself that—

*¢ I crack my brains to find out tempting sances,

And raise fortifications in the pastry,

Such as might serve for models in the Low Countrics;

Which, if they had been practised at Breda,

Spinola might have thrown his cap at it and ne'er took it 3°"

and that—
“ with six eggs, and a strike of rye meal,
I had kept the town till domesday—perhaps longer “—

may very well represent the artist at the head of our
paper, who is apparently cracking his brains, perhaps
an the composition of his “ true elixir,” in the same

play :—
© "Tis the quintessence
Of five cocks of the game, ten dozen of sparrows,
Knuckles of veal, potatoe-roots, and marrow,
Coral and ambergris.”

The items of the composition sound strange to
modern ears: but potatoes were articles of luxury for
a considcrable time after their first mtroduction into
England; ambergris was commonly used in giving
flavour to dishes; and coral was possibly used as an
ornament. In his ‘City Madam, Massinger again
marks the extension of this tasteless extravagance :-—

“ Men may talk of country, Christmasses, and court gluttony,
Their thirty pound butter'd eggs, their pies of carps’ tongues,
‘Their pheasants drench'd with ambergris, the carcases
Of three fat wethers bruised for gravy, to
Make sauce for a single peacock ; yet their feasts
Were fasts, compared with the city’s.”

Among the items of this city feast—of which

“ Three such dinners more would break an alderman,
And make him give up his cloak "—

are enumeratcd—
“ Three sucking-pigs served uy ina dish,
Ta‘en from the sow as soon as farrowed,
A fortuight fed with dates and muscadine,
That stood my master in twenty marks a picce,
Besides the puddings in their bellies, made
Of I know not what. I dare swear the cook that dres'd it

Was the devil disguised like a Dutehiman.”
e Fs * * 2

1842.)

“¢ The dishes were raised one upon another,
As woodmongers do billets, fur the first,
The second, and third course ; and most of the shovs
Of the best confectioners in London ransack’d
To furnish out a banquet; yet my lady
Call’d me penurious rascal, and cried out,
There was nothing worth the eating.”
We are almost of opinion that the lady was right.

The human mind, stimulated by rapidly increasing
wealth, was eagcrly searching for new enjoyments, and
unfortunately the example of the “ king’s new cour-
tiers” was not of a kind to lead the taste into anything
beyond gross sensuality and profligate extravagance.
Hay, one of James’s early favourites, and ultimately
Earl of Carlisle, is said to have destroyed three for-
tunes, all arising from the favour of his master, in an
incredibly short time, and chiefly in feasting and re-
velry, wherein he had his majesty for an associate.
Clarendon says he spent 400,0U0/., “leaving not a house
or an acre of land to be remembered by.” Ata dinner
given by him he had fish sent for to Russia, of such a
huge size that it was necessary to have dishes made
purposely for them.*

We have scarcely alluded to the drinking habits of
the two periods, and we have abstained purposely, for
in the latter period the habit was carried to an excess
scarcely credible, and too disgusting to detail. The
king and all his courtiers,even the queen and the
ladies of the court, disgraced themselves by public
exhibitions of this beastly vice ; one instance among
many others being recorded as taking place during the
performance of a court masque. We gladly, therefore,
leave this part of the subject.

The results of such examples might have been an-
ticipated. The taverns and strects were scencs of
debauchery and riot; nor was any place sacred from
the outbreaks of intemperance and passion. Sir John
Frugal, a merchant, addresses two persons in the‘ City
Madam,’ who had commenced a fray in his house, as
follows :—

“ 1 blush for you,
Men of your quality expose your fame
To every vulgar censure; this at miduight,
After a drunken supper at a tavern
(No civil manf abroad to censure you),

Had shown poor in you ;"—

but this is only the opinion of a pani merchant.
Then, as now, class opinions woul outweigh, in the
ininds of thoughtless and extravagant young men,
those of the more numerous but quiet and unobtrusive
masses; the oh Seen of their associates was far more
effective than the expostulations of their seniors, the
exhortations of the preachers, or even the satire of the
poets. Now, indeed, public opinion is grown much
tuo strong to be contemned, and frolics must not ex-
tend to anything positively disgraceful, and the public
peace is too well guarded to admit of crime being per-
petrated without detection and punishment. But at
the time of which we write, Shirley, in ‘ The Game-
ster,’ describes—
“ The blades that roar

In brothels, aud break windows: fright the strects

At midnight worse than constables, and sometimes

Set upon innocent bellmen,{ to beget

Discourse for a weck’s diet: that swear damn-me’s

To pay their debts, and march like walking armouries

With pistol, poniard, rapier, and batoon,

As they would murder all the king's liege people,

And blow down streets.”

* In his embassy to France, in 1619, he is said to have ridden
into Paris on a horse shod with silver, the shoes being tacked on
so loosely as to fall off occasionally, while a farrier followed
behind with others to replace them.

+ Gifford explains, no man of civil authority.

t Bellmen were the watchmen, who then carried a bell instead
of ‘be modern rattle. :

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

155

This class existed with more or less impunity down to
avery late period. We trust that increased knowledge
has destroyed much of the inclination for such demoral-
ising pursuits, and we know that improved institutions
have prevented their possibility to the same excess.
One particular feature of the time we have yet to
notice, and which even then struck foreigners with
surprise. It was, that ladies of the highest rank did
not hesitate to visit the taverns, to give entertainments
to parties at them, though reeking with drunkenness,
smoking, and vulgar debauchery. Many instances
occur in our old plays: we only select one, from Shir-
ley’s ‘ Lady of Pleasure ;' a lady is addressed thus :—

“If you'll honour us,
The Bear at the bridge-foot* shall entertain you.
A drawer is my Ganymede; he shall skink
Brisk nectar to us: we will only have
A dozen partridges in a dish; as many pheasants,
Quails, cocks, and godwits shall come marching up
Like the train'd band ; a sortt of sturgeon
Shall give most bold defiance to an army,
And triumph o’er the table.”

The lady quietly excuses herself, but adds, “another
time I may be your guest;” to which it is replied—
‘¢ *Tis grown in fashion now with ladies ;
When you please, I'll attend you.”

In the reign of Elizabeth female education in the
upper ranks was often either too pedantic or too house-
wifely, or both. In the unrestrained licence which
succeeded, no care seems to have been taken to substi-
tute anything better; and as women necessarily asso-
ciated with the men, they gradually assimilated them-
selves to them in their manners. The more decorous
court of Charles I., and the doctrines and practice of
the Puritans, completely restored the purity and de-
cency of our women, which not even the vile exam-
ples of the time of Charles II. could affect beyond the
atmosphere of his court, and which has continued to
brighten and improve from that period to this.

Tram-roads in Anci-nt Greece.—It is generally supposed that
the Greeks, amid all their advance in abstract science, were
comparatively backward in some of the most important practical
arts of civilised life, more especially in all that relates to interior
communication by means of roads, bridges, &c. There are,
however, many strong evidences, both of a practical and specu-
lative nature, that under all these disadvantages this branch of
internal economy was, according to the use and fashion of the
age, carried, even at the remotest period of antiquity, to a much
higher degree of perfection in Greece than has usually been sup-
posed. Travellers have long been in the habit of remarking the
frequent occurrence of wheel-ruts in every part of that country,
often in the remotest and least frequented mountain-passes, where
a horee or mule can now with difficulty find a track. The term
rut must not here be understood in the sense of a hole or in-
equality worn by long use and neglect in a level road, but of a
groove or channel purposely scooped out at distances adapted to
the ordinary span of a carriage, for the al ae of steadying and
directing the course of the wheels, and lightening the weight of
the draught, on rocky or precipitous ground, in the same manner
as the sockets of our railroads. Some of these tracts of stone
railway, for such they may in fact be called, are in a good state
of preservation, chielly where excavated in strata of solid rock.
Where the nature of the soil was not equally favourable, the
level was probably obtained by the addition of flag-stones filling
up the inequalities. It seems now to be generally admitted by
persons who have turned their attention to the subject. that this
was the principle on which the ancient Greek carriage-roads
were constructed on ground of this nature——Mure’s Tour in
Greece.

* The Bear was a tavern of Shirley’s time, near the Strand
Bridge, which crossed the stream from the north, and discharged
‘tself into the Thames a little east of the present Waterloo
Bridge.

f Sort—a number.

oie

156

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THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

[Arris 23,

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(Herne’s Oak, 6f the ‘ Merry Wives of Windsor.’}

HERNE'S OAK.

Tue above is & copy of a drawing, now first engraved,
made by the Rev. Dr. Spry, when an Eton boy, in 1790.
The fine old tree which forms its subject was then
generally called Herne’s Oak, and was stbsequently
cut down.

In Mr. Knight's editions of Shakspere will be fotind
a wood-cut of the reverse side of the same tree, from
a drawing made in the year 1800, by Mr. W. Delamotte,
the Professor of Landscape Drawing to the Royal Mili-
tary College, Sandhurst, whose sketches and etchings
of trees are amongst the most beautiful productions of
Eriglish art. Mr. Delamiotte was a pupil of the late
venerable Benjamin West, Presidetit of the Royal
Academy, under those care he was placed in 1792.
Mr, Delamotte ha8 often heard his master lainent that
Herne’s Oak had been cut down, to the great annoyance,
as Mr. West &tated, of the king and the royal family.
According tp Mr. West's account of the circumstance,
the king had directed all the trees in the park, to be
numbered ; and upon the representation of the bailiff,
whose namé was Robinson, that certain trees encum-
bered the ground, directions were given to fell thdse
trees, and Herne’s Oak was amongst the condemned.
Mr. West, who was residing at Windsut at the time,
traced this oak to the spot where it was conveyed, and
obtained a large piece of one of its knotty arms, which
Mr. Delamotte has often seen, Mr. Ralph West, how-

ever, the eldest son % the President, who as a youth
was distinguished for his love of art arid his great skill
as a draftsman, made a drawing of this tree before it
was felled, and Mr. Delamotte’s drawing was a copy of
this sketch. i ree oe a

In the editions of Shakspere above referred to will
be found other versions of the belief that the tree known
by tradition as Herne’s Oak no longer existed. One
relation is, that George III. had told Lady Ely that
Herne’s Oak was cut down, amongst a number of what
were called unsightly trees, when he was,a very young
man. Another version of the popular belief is, that
the tree was blown down some sixty nh ago; and
this is given in Mr. Knight's ‘ Library Edition,’ in an
extract of an account furnished, by, the son of an old
resident at Windsor, whe is still alive :—‘ My father
states that about sixty-four years since there was a
deep chalk-pit sunk inside the park at Windsor,
nearly opposite the Hope Inn (which is now nearly
filled up again, and through which the road to Datchet
now runs). The chalk was taken if itnmense quan-
tities from this pi to fill tip the ditch Which then ran
round the Castle, it being sore ereY it would render
the foundation of the Castlé and connected buildings
more Secure, a8 ih many places they Were giving Way.
The removal of the chal om the bit for this purpose
in some measure undermined a fie oak-tree, which
stood on the upper side of the pit hearest the Castle.
Shortly after a storm came and blew this tree down,

1842.)

and this circumstance created a great sensation at the
time, as that tree was considered to be the identical
Herne’s Oak of Shakspere notoriety. My father had
in his boyish days very frequently played in the pit and
round the tree; and its locality is therefore strongly
impressed on his memory, although now between sixty
and seventy years since. Mr. Emlyn was architect and
superintendent of the works at the Castle at that time:
—He had the fallen tree removed to his yard, where it
was cutup.” Our informant adds, that a ieee of the
oak was made into the stock of 4 gun, and given toa

erson “who, not being aware of its value as a relic,
sold the gun some years sifice to a farmer to scare crows
with.” The letter then concludes thus: “ My father
wishes me to add, that it must not be inferred that there
was nid pit existing prebfous to the removal of the chalk
for the purpdse stated. There was before then stich a
pit as described in Act V:; Scere 3, there Mrs. Page
says,—

‘They are all couched in a pit bard by Herne’'s oak.’

In Mr. Jesse's second series of ‘Gleanings in Natural
History,’ published in 1834, it was mentioned that the
real Herne’s Oak was atill existing 5 that it was “ close to
an avenue of elms,” near the footpath leading from
Windsot to Datchet; that it was not cut down, assome
people Had affirmed. In 1838 the following passage
appeared itt the ‘ Quarterly Review :—

« Among his anecdotes of celebrated English oaks,
we were surprised to find Mr. Loudon adopting (at
least, so we understand him) an apocryphal story about
Herne’s Oak, given in the lively eg es of Mr. Jease’s
‘Gleanings.’ That gentlémah; if he had taken any

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LOuk, ahd Avende of Elms, Windsor H

157

trouble, might have ascertained that the tree in ques-
tion was cyt down one morning, by order of King
George III., when in a state of great, but transient,
excitement: the circumstance caused much regret and
astonishment at the time, ru yas commented on in the
newspapers. The oak which Mr. Jesse would decorate
with Shakspearian honours stands at a considerable
distance from the real Simon Pure. Every old woman
in Windsor knows all about the facts.”” _ | |

Mr. Jesse replied to this statement of the ‘ Quarterly
Review,’ in a letter addressed to the Editor of the

imes, From this tinie the existence or non-existence
of Herne’s Oak has been a subject of controversy.
The arguments on either side are given in Mr. Knight's
: pakeperey from which we copy the following de-
tails ;— a

“ The memory of the editor carries him back to
to Windsor as it was forty years ago. The Castle was
then almost uninhabited. The king and his family
lived in an ugly barrack-looking building called the
Queen’s Lodge, which stood opposite the south front
of the Castle. The great quadrangle, the terrace, and
every part of the Home Park, was a free playground
for the boys of Windsor. The path to Datchet passed
immediately under the south terrace, direct from west
to east, and it abruptly descended into the Lower Park
ata place called Dodd’s Ilill. From this path several
paths diverged in a south-easterly direction towards
the dairy at Frogmore ; and one of these went close
by .a little dell, in which long rank grass and fern
and low thorns grew in profusion. Near this dell
stood several venerable oaks. Our earliest recollec-
tioris associate this place with birds’-nests and mush-

ome Park.

158

rooms; but some five or six years later we came to
look here for the ‘ oak with great ragged horns,’ to
which we had been introduced in the newly discovered
world of Shakspere. There was an oak, whose upper
branches were much decayed, standing some thirty or
forty yards from the deep side of the dell; and there
was another oak, with fewer branches, whose top was
also bare, standing in the line of the avenue near the
park wall. We have heard each of these oaks called
Herne’s Oak; but the application of the naine to the
oak in the avenue is certainly more recent. That
tree, as we first recollect it, had not its trunk bare.
Its dimensions were comparatively small, and it
scemed to us to have no pretensions to the honour
Which it occasionally received. The old people, how-
ever, used to say that Herne’s Oak was cut down or
blown down, and certainly our own impressions were
that Herne’s Oak was gone. One thing, however,
consoled us. The little dell was assuredly the “ pit
hard by Herne’s Oak” in which Anne Page and her
troop of fairies ** couched with obscured lights.” And
so we for ever associated this dell with Shakspere.
With our own recollections of the lucalities still
vivid, we have recently visited the favourite haunts of
our boyhood in the Little Park. Our sensations were
not pleasurable. The spot is so changed, that we
could scarcely recognise it. We lamented twenty-five
care aro that the common fvotpath to Datchet should
vave been carried through the picturesque dell, near
which all tradition agreed that Herne’s Oak stood;
but we were not prepared to find that, during the
alterations of the Castle, the most extensive and deepest
part of the dell, all on the north of the path, had been
filled up and made perfectly level. Our old favourite
thorns are now all buried, and the antique roots of the
trees that stood in and about the dell are covered up.
Surely the rubbish of the Castle might have been con-
veyed to a less interesting place of deposit. The
smaller and shallower part of the dell, that on the
south of the path, has been half filled up, and what
remains 1s of a formal and artificial character. Mr.
Jesse seems quite unaware of the change that has
taken place in the locality, for in his ‘ Gleanings’ he
says, “J was glad to find a pit hard by, where Nan
and her troop of fairies, and the Welsh devil Evans,
might all have couched, without being perceived by
the ‘fat Windsor stag’ when he vale like Herne the
hunter. The pit above alluded to has recently had a
few thorns planted in it; and the circumstance of its
being near the oak, with the diversion of the footpath,
secin to prove the identity of the tree, in addition to
the traditions respecting it.’’ The divergence of the
avenue, which Mr. Jesse, somewhat enthusiastically,
altributes to the respect of William III. for Herne’s
Oak, must, we fear, be assigned to less poctical
motives. The avenue, we understand, formed the ori-
ginal boundary of the park in that direction. It
diverges ahundred and twenty yards before it reaches
Mr. Jcesse’s Herne’s Oak ; and there is little doubt that
the meadow on the south of the avenue after it diverges,
Which in our remeinbrance was a separate enclosure,
was formerly a common ficld. The oak which Mr.
Jesse calls Herne’s, is now perfectly bare down to
the very roots. ‘ In this state,” says Mr. Jesse, “ it
has been, probably, long before the recollection of the
oldest person living.” He adds, “ it has always been
protected ae strong fence round it.” In our own re-
collection this tree was unprotected by any fence, and
1is upper part only was withered and without bark.
So far from Herne the hunter having blasted it, it
appears to have suffered a premature decay within
the Jast twenty years. This tree is of small girth
compared with other trees abont it. It is not more
than fifteen feet in circumference at the largest part,

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

[APRIL 23,

while there isa magnificent oak at about two hundrcd
yards distance whose girth is nearly thirty feet.

The doubts which naturally belong to this question
are, we apprehend, sufficiently cogent to render it a
somewhat bold act for the authorities connected with
the park to have recently put up a board on Mr. Jesse’s
favourite trec in the avenue, bearing this inscription :—

“ There isan old tale goes that Herne the hunter,
Sometime a keeper here in Windsor forest,
Doth all the winter-time, at fud/ midnight,
Walk round about ¢Ais oak.”*

The subject has been recently investigated with great
acuteness by Dr. Bromet; and his conclusions are
given in a very interesting Ictter in the ‘Gentleman’s
Magazine’ for April, 1841. He has collected a variety
of testimony from living persons, which goes to prove
that a tree called Herne’s Oak was cut down some sixty
asl ago, and that the tree which now pretends to the

onour—“ this oak”’—had acquired the name in very
modern times :—“ its present name was not conferred
upon it until some time after the demolition of another
old tree formerly possessing that title.” This entirely
agrees with our own personal recollections of the talk
of Windsor about Herne’s oak. But Dr. Bromct
justly observes that the “strongest proof” against the
clans of Mr. Jesse's oak is “ Collier’s map of 1742,
which actually points out ‘Sir Jolm Falstaffs oak’ as
being not tn the present avenue, but outside tt, near the
edge of the pit.” Mr. Collier ‘‘ was a resident in the
immediate vicinity of the tree he thus distinguishes ;”
—and his map is therefore an indisputable “ record of
its locality and character a hundred years ago.” So
far, we think, the proof is absolute that the oak in the
avenue is not Herne’sOak. It was not, as we believe,
so called by gencral tradition even in very recent
times: it certainly was not so called in Collier's ‘ Plan
of Windsor Little Park’ in 1742, in which plan another
tree, standing some yards away from the avenue, is
remarkable enough to bear the name of Sir John Fal-
staff's oak. We have given in the preceding pagea
faithful representation of the oak in the avenue of elms,
which is declared to be Herne’s Oak in the above
passage from Shakspere with variations.

CEMENTS AND ARTIFICIAL STONE.

In the earlier ages of society it is probable that those
compositions which we now term cements were not
known. The purpose to which such materials are
now applied is either to cause masses of stone or
brick to adhere one to another, or else to form a sub-
stitute for stone, and neither of these was required in
the primitive times or in the early periods of such
nations asare still existing. Huts were built of trunks
of trees, twigs, and other materials which the forest
could furnish ; the erection of stone buildings forming
a more advanced stage in the progress of civilization.

The construction of more permanent buildings
would depend a good deal on the geological character
of the country, a rocky or stony surface offering ina-
terials different from those which an alluvial soil
would afford. But when small masses of stone or
bricks became used in buildings, the use of some
kind of cement was necessary, since the masses were
not ponderous enough to retain their positions with-
out some other agency. Consequently we find dif-
ferent substances employed for this purpose, of which
the two principal, in all ages, have been bitumen and
lime, in one or other of their various forms.

Nearly all the great structures of the Romans were
cemented with mortar made of lime. That cunter-
prising people also formed some of their public roads

* Shakspere wrote “ stt/é midnight,” aud “ an oak.”

l He.

by laying a foundation of rough stones and cementine
them together with liquid mortar, which hardened
into a firm mass.
Furope, whereinto the custom of erecting stone build-
ings was gradually introduced, a cement or mortar
made principally of lime has been almost universally
employed.

tis curious that this substance, valuable as it is,
does not form a durable cement by itself, nor docs it
occur naturally in the form which fits it for use.
Limestone occurs abundantly in the mineral kingdom,
and from this substance, which is a carbonate of lime,
if the carbonic acid be expelled, the remainder is lime.
Marble, common limestone, chalk, and oyster-shells
are all formed principally of carbonate of lime, and
if any of these be exposed for some time to a white
heat, the carbonic acid is driven off, and the residue
becomes the earthy substance called lime, or rather,
quick-lime. This quick-lime has the property of
absorbing water with such avidity, that one-fourth of
its weight of water will combine with it, without pro-
ducing any appearance of wetness. One of the con-

sequences of this chemical action is that the lumps of

lime fall to powder.

Different carbonates of lime have different degrees
of excellence as matcrials for cement. Marble and
chalk are, for opposite reasons, unfitted for the purpose.
Bituminous and magnesian limestones are capable of
being ‘calcined’ and ‘slaked’ into a valuable mate-
rial for mortar. Those varieties of limestone which
contain a considerable proportion of iron, or iron mixed
with clay, are capable of forming a cement which will
bear exposure to the water, and which thus acquires a

eculiar value in enginecring operations. Of these
atter kinds an example is furnished by the chalk mar]
or grey chalk, which is the lowest stratum of the chalk
formation, and exhibits a considerable admixture of
ferruginous clay, amounting sometimes to twenty-five
percent. The blue limestone, or lias-limestone, which
extends in a continuous stratum, averaging two hun-
dred and fifty feet in thickness, from Yorkshire to
Dorsetshire, furnishes a valuable carbonate of lime, in
which the ferruginous clay varies from nine to twenty-
two per cent.

The ferruginous clay, just alluded toasan ingredient
which converts lime into a water-cement, appears to
exist In puzzolana, trap, and Rowley rag. The first of
these (found by the ancients in the Bay of Baia) isa
concreted mass of volcanic ashes. The second is a
bluish-black lava, found near the Rhine, and used by
the Dutch as a material, when mixed with lime, for
water-cement. The third is a basaltic material, capa-
ble of being used for the same purpose as trap.

The substance which is most commonly used with
slaked lime as a material for cement is sand, or small
flinty particles, which seem to act as a means of cling-
ing the particles of lime together and combining them
into a whole.

In the manufacture of lime from limestone, it is
necessary to slake it, or convert it into a hydrate of
lime, very soon after the stone has been burnt; other-
Wise carbonic acid will be re-absorbed. A piece of
white Bristol lime has been known to increase in
weight 33 per cent. in seven days, simply by exposure
tothe air. The chemical changes which distinguish
every part of the preparation of lime for mortar are
curious; for the limestone loses a considerable portion
of weight by being converted into quick-lime, and the
latter again increases in weight by conversion into
slaked lime.

If slaked lime be mixed with water, it will form a
paste or cement, but of so weak a nature, that a shower
of rain will wash it away. Sand, or some other hard
pounded substance, is therefore added to give firmness.

THE PENNY

In all the various countries of

MAGAZINE 159
Common London mortar consists of one part white
chalk-lime to two and a half of clean sharp river-sand ;
but if the lime has been imperfectly burned, or if the
sand be dirty (both of which too often occur), the mor-
tar adheres imperfectly to the bricks. The Romans
had an intimate acquaintance with the nature of mor-
tar cements; for Pliny relates that there was a Jaw
among them to the effect that after the ingredients ort
mortar had been rubbed together with a little water,
they should remain ina covered pit for three years before
being used. He states that the buildings in which this
mortar was used were more durable than others in
which the mortar had been made from lime not so
treated; and also that-certain buildings had failed
because the mortar employed in their construction
contained too large a proportion of sand.

The number of water-cements and kinds of artifi-
cial stone proposed at various times is considerable,
both in relation to the number of ingredients and the
proportions between them. The substance employed by
the Romans as a cement for moles and other structures
exposcd to the action of the sca, consisted of three parts
of puzzolana mixed with one of lime. British engi-
neers have used a great variety of such cements, com-
posed frequently of mixed lime and sand, but some-
times of other substances. Sineaton employed in the
construction of the Eddystone Lighthouse a cement
formed of equal bulks of powdered Aberfraw lime
and powdered puzzolana ; the mortar made from these
ingredients was well beaten before being uscd, a
process which seems to increase the tenacity of the
cement. In the neighbourhood of Dorking is found
a kind of grey chalk which forms an excellent water-
cement when mixed with three or four times its weight
of sharp river-sand. A kind of water-cement used for
setting the bricks that form the facing of the London
Docks was formed of lias-lime, river-sand, puz-
zolana, and calcined ironstone. A cement called
cendrée, or Tournay ash-mortar, is made in a very
curious manner; large pieces of lias-lime are burned
in a kiln, and with the ashes of the fuel are after-
wards found small fragments of the lime, in the ave-
rage proportion of three parts of ashes to one of lime.
Of this mixture about a bushel at a time is taken, and
is sprinkled with water only sufficient to slake the
lime; the whole quantity, thus treated, is then put
intoa pit and covered with earth, where it remains
for some weeks. It is then taken out, and well beaten
with an iron pestle for half an hour, which brings it to
the consistence of soft mortar; it is then laid in the
shade for a day or two to dry, and again beaten till it
becomes soft. This is repeated three or four times,
till at length it is only just sufficiently soft for use ;
being then applied to brick or stone, it forms in a
few minutes a very compact mass, and after twenty-
four hours has acquired a stony hardness.*

The cement known as Roman cement has, like most
others, a large portion of lime as its principal ingre-
dient. In an analysis of this cement by Berthier, he
found that its constituents differ so little from the
constituents of chalk and common clay, that he pro-
posed the manufacturing of a similar cement by the
mere mixture of these two ingredicnts in certain pro-
portions. One part of clay and two and a half parts of
chalk harden very quickly into a cement.

Within the last few years many schemes have been
set on foot, and many patents procured, for the manu-
facturing of cements and artificial stone from various
ingredients. In some cases the object is to form a
mortar, with which stones or bricks may be bound
together; in others, a water-cement for lining walls
and other structures exposed to the action of water ;
in others, to form a pavement, terrace, or floor. One

* ¢ Transactions’ of the Society of Arts, vol. 52.

160 THE PENNY
patent is for “making cement from the accumulated
sand in the mouth of Harwich harbour ;” another,
“from calcined limestone and clay;” a third, under
the name of “ Vitruvian,” composed of ‘‘ marble, flint,
chalk, lime, and water;” another, from ‘“slaked lime
and white clay;” a fifth, from “Painswick ragstone
and Bisley stone.” A manufacturing chemist at
Manchester proposes to use as materials for cement
the hitherto useless residue from the manufacture of
chromates of potash and soda, and other salts; the
residue contains lime, oxide of iron, silicate of alumina,
and other substances which are supposed to form
fitting ingredients for a durable cement.

Of the very numerous compositions used as substi-
tutes for stone, in which a bituminous ingredient is
found, we shall not here speak; a slight notice of
them was given in a former volume (vol. ix., pp.
485, 49-4).

THE THAMES PIKE.

In a recent number we gave an account of the Pike»
with an engraving. We have now the pleasure of
subjoining some observations on the habits of the
Thames Pike, furnished us by acorrespondent, whose
success as an angler is founded upon long experience,
and with whom angling assumes a much higher cha-
racter thana mere diversion, because it is associated
with that keen habit of observation which can alone
make a real naturalist.

The months of March and April do not afford any
sport to legitimate anglers, none of the river fish being
in season ; and although modern sportsmen fancy that
Thames trout are fit to be taken in April, yet anglers
of the old school would as soon take one this month,
as a good shot would killa partridge on the first of
August. The Thames pike have now just finished spawn-
ing; so in giving some short account of this fish we
shall preface the subject by recommending all lovers
of angling who aspire to become genuine disciples of
the good ald Izaak, to make theinselves acquainted
with the haunts and habits of fish, and they will find
few so interesting as those of the pike. The habit
of these fish in spawning-time is exactly the same
as that of the salmon; for as the latter range along the
sea-coast to find the mouths of the rivers, and leave
the sea-water to spawn in the fresh streams, so the
pike leave their winter haunts at the commencement
of the month of March, and range along the banks
and shores of the river to find the entrances to the
spring ditches, and they perform all the feats of the
salmon on a sinall scale in leaping over sluices, getting
up shoals where the water will scarcely cover them,
and in surmounting every difficulty till they reach the
spring water. When there, they trace it to its source,
and there, among the cleanest and greenest weed, the
spawn of the female is deposited, which ts afterwards
impregnated with that of the male. As soon as this is
accomplished, the pike rapidly retrace their way back
to the river, and retire to the quiet nooks, eddies, and
rush-beds, generally taking up their abode in the weed
at the bottom of the deeps of these places, feeding
abuut every six hours. Wherever the pike first takes
up his quarters when he has regained the river, he
may be found till the beginning of October, and
see the angler generally commences his sport in
July, by trolling with the gorge-hook at the tails of
weeds, and among the dock-leaves and water-lilies
bordering on the slow eddies of the Thames, he had
much better wait till October, and as soon as the upper
weed begins to shift he will find most glorious sport
in spinning (with large trout-tackle tied on fine gimp)
over the short green streamy weed, and the clean
pickerel-weed, known only to anglers of long standing,

MAGAZINE.

or in the deep sluggish eddies where the dock-weed
has just begun to purify itself; two other favourite
haunts are: the borders and tails cf rush-beds, when
the ribbon-weed has sufficiently rotted to let the
stream gently ripple among the rushes. In the months
of November and December the pike take the sedges,
and the angler, if he is not afraid of a north-wester,
will find beautiful sport (always supposing the floads
have not commenced) trolling down the borders of
the streamy sedges; and a pike caught at this season
will well repay his toils, for if his cook understands
her business, there is no better fish comes to table.
The fecundity of the pike is beyond all calculation,
and if some legislative cnactment were made for its
eee when it leaves the river, the Thames would
e abundantly stocked with them without doing much
mischief to the trout, the range of water being too
wide for the pike to do much execution among them.
The necessity of this protection will be seen by thie
following short narrative given by an angler ‘—“]J
had been watching at the mouth of a spring ditch run-
ning into the river in the neighbourhood of Windsor,
in the month of March, where the water falls overa
sluice of about two feet and a half; and having seen
several fish lcap over the fall, I walked up the
banks of the ditch, and encountered a figure armed
with a withy pole about ten feet long, at the small end
of which was fastened a wire snare; he informed me
he had just missed a fish of about five pounds weight:
the water was as clear as crystal, the bottom being
covered with patches of green winter-weed interspersed
with roots of the water-lily, which had just begun, to
sprout. After searching about for a few minutes, he
exclaimed, ‘Here he is!’ Having a good eye for the
water, I was mortified at not immediately seeing him ;
after a few seconds, however, I observed the smallest
possible portion of his tail-fin as it protruded beyond
the end of a patch of green weed, the rest of the fish
being completely imbedded in it. In an instant the
weed was gently parted with the pole, the wire was
then most insinuatingly, but ina decidedly Jack-Ketch
sort of style, passed over his head, and the next moment
the fish was kicking on the bank. My friend of the
snare again adjusted the wire, and informed me he
should have the other ina minute. I asked ‘ Which
other ?? Hesaid, witha knowing wink, ‘Why, the male,
to be sure; dont you see this is the femalt ?’ And sure
enough, about fifteen yards above, we found another
fish, of about the same weight, partly hidden under the
young leaves of some water-lilics. He was, however,
rather too confident, for the fish started, and was not to
be found again, at least on that day. I saw this worthy
the following day, and asked him what he had done
with the fish; he informed me he had sold it to a fish-
monger at Windsor. I learnt afterwards that the
fishmonger having exposed the fish for sale in his
window, it had attracted the attention of a celebrated
angler and natural historian, who purchased it of the
fishmonger, and sent it as a present toa scientific friend
in London. And 80, thought I, things go on as usual ;
but if parliament would only take it into its head (as
nineteen out of twenty of the pike tribe are thus de-
stroyed in the ditches in the spawning-time) to give
every rascal caught with a snare anywhere in the
vicinity of a spring ditch in the month of March a
twelvemonth’s imprisonment, and fine every common
rson convicted of buying a pike after the middle of
ebruary 5é., and every philosopher, if guilty of the
same offence, 20/., there would be some chance of
preserving the Thames Pike.”

{ APRIL 23,

1812 ]

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

16]

(Nicnonas Povsstn and his Localities.
of Eure; Chateau Gaillard

LOCAL MEMORIES OF GREAT MEN.
NicHo.uas Poussin.

Tue local memories of an artist who, like Poussin,
rose to eminence against every adverse fortune,—
whose gentle manners and innocent life were unruffied
by the sneers of envy, and unseduced by the allure-
ments of licentiousness, present features of unusual
interest to the admirers of painting. By the term
admirers, we do not mean those who only value the
art of painting for the pleasure it may afford to the
eye, but those who, in the spirit of this great artist,
believe that it conduces to the virtue, and, of conse-
quence, to the happiness of mankind. “To the young
artist,” says Maria Graham, “ the life of Poussin is a

No. 646,

At top—Poussin, from a Portrait by himself. Vignettes on the right—Louviers ; Peasants of the Departmen;
. Vignettes on the left—Evreux ; Pont-Audemer.—From Sketches by Sorrieu and Jules David.]

beacon to guide him through every difficulty: an en-
couragement beyond that which any patronage can
afford; for it proves that, in despite of outward cir-
cumstances, genius, aided by industry, will be its own
protector, and that fame, though she may come late,
will never ultimately refuse her favours to real merit.
The cause of his success appears to have been, that
Poussin considered whatever was worth doing at all
was worth doing well; and that he verified his own em-
hatic words, replying, when asked late in life by
Vienedl de Marville how he gained so high a reputa-
tion amongst the great painters of Italy, “I have
neglected nothing.” Every science that he could
study consistently with the practical part of his art
attracted his attention and shared his ardour ; and in

—~+ Voy. XI.—Y
Digitized by Google
7 ; O

162

his favourite pursuit he considered that extensive-
ness of surface was by no means indispensable to
grandeur of design. Hence all his works exhibit the
results of profound thought, diligent study, and accu-
rate observation, and, with but very few exceptions,
are executed on a moderate scale. We find none of
his pictures reminding us of the whimsical, but happy
description of Peter Pindar, where he satirizes the

“ Acres of canvas paved with paint.”

The general objection made to his compositions is
that they partake too much of the forms and attitudes
of the sculpture of antiquity, an objection that is well
founded. Indeed, in one of his pictures, that of ‘ The
Israclites gathering Manna,’ he has even ventured to
adapt to his subject the figures of the Laocéon, the
Niobe, the Seneca, the Antinons, the Wrestlers, the
Diana, the Apollo, and the Venus de’ Medic1.

The family of Poussin was noble, but poor. Tis
father, Jean Poussin, was a native of Soissons, and
served with credit in the regiment of Tavanes during
the reigns of Charles [X., Henry III., and Henry IV. ;
but the poverty of the royal coffers, during that un-
happy period, had thrown all the expenses of a miliary
life upon himself, and, like many of his brave fellow-
soldiers, he was reduced to the greatest indigence.
After the taking of Vernon, in which town he then
resided, he married Marie de Laisement, the widow
of Le Moine, a lawyer of that place ; and having
qiitted the military service, he retired to Andel Ss in
Normandy, some time in the year 1592, where, in June,
153-4, his son Nicholas was born. The carlicst indica-
tions of a taste for art displayed themselves in Poussin
while yct a child, and Passeri, who was contemporary
with hin, says, in‘ The Lives of Painters, Sculpiors,
and Architects,’ that his schoolmaster used frequently
to chide him for making designs on the margins of his
books, instead of attending to his regular studies. The
beauty of the scenery round Andclys, situated as it is
ainonest the hills on the right bank of the Seine,
and including in its neighbourhood all the subjects
represented in the engraving, doubtless fostered the
taste of Poussin for landscape composition, a taste
which was so strong as not to be overcome even
when the subject of his pencil was historical com-

osition. OF this prevailing fancy Fuseli complains,
or he says, ‘“‘ The excellence of Poussin in landscape
is universally allowed, and when it is the chief
object of his picture precludes all censure; but con-
sidered as the scene or background of an historical
subject, the care with which he executed it, the predi-
lection which he had for it, often made him give it an
importance which it ought not to have: it divides our
attention, and, from an acccssory, becomes a principal
part.” The sketches which he made amidst this
delightful scenery attracted the attention of Quentin
Varin, a native of Amiens, who then resided in Andelys,
and who taught him the rudiments of his art.

It was with difficulty that Jean Poussin could be
persuaded to allow his son to adopt painting as a
profession ; but having consented, Nicholas soon found
that the instructions of Varin were insufficient, and at
the ace of ecightcen, friendless and nearly moneyless,
he went to Paris, and studied successively under Fer-
dinand Elle, of Malines, a portrait painter, and L' Alle-
mant, a painter of history, who was deficient, however,
in all but the mechanical part of his art, and with whom
Nicholas remained only a few weeks. While with
the latter, the auihoress before quoted says he “ con-
tracted a friendship with Philippe de Champagne,
which was afterwards of singular advantage to him ;”
but M. Gence, in the Biogranhie Universelle, says
that this is a mistake, for that Plilipie de Champagne
did not go to Paris till 1621. A young nobleman of

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

{ArRi 30,

Poitou becaine a generous friend to Poussin, and fur-
nished him with money to enable him to pursue his
studies; and after the young painter had diligently
copied many drawings of Raffaclle and Ginlio Romano,
in the collection of M. Courtois, and otherwise advanced
himself in his art, invited hiin to Poitou, with the view
of further patronage and liberal employment. The
want of taste, however, of this nobleman’s mother did
not permit her to value the artist’s ability, and he was
treated in the light of a domestic drudge, and accord-
ingly he withdrew in disgust, and set out on foot on his
return to Paris. In this journey he supported himself
by his pencil, accepting any employment and at what-
ever remuneration he could obtain; the former being
so severe, and the latter so scanty, that on arriving at
the capital he was attacked by a dangerous sickness,
brought on, it is muy osed, by extreme labour and a
scanty sustenance. Hc returned to Andelys, where he
remained with his family a year, occupying himself in

ainting both in distemper and oil, for such prices as

e could obtain. On his recovery he again proceeded
to Paris, and became acquainted with the Cavaliere
Marino, the Italian poet, with whom he lived on terms
of the closest intimacy, and by whom he was invited to
Rome, whither he removed in 1624. Asa residence
in the ‘ Eternal City ’ was the chief wish of the painter's
heart, he conceived that he should there live in tran-
quillity, but his friend soon after dying, and the Cardinal
Barberini, to whose notice Marino had introduced him,
being sent on an embassy to France and Spain, he
found himself in a foreign city, destitute of patrons,
and without any means of living, exrepuns what his
pencil might afford. Still undaunted, he pursued his
art with fervour, selling some of his noblest works for
sums barely sufficient to pay for the materials on which
they were painted, until the return of the Cardinal to
Rome extricated him from his difficultics. For that
dignitary he painted his celebrated picture of the
‘Death of Germanicus, and the ‘ Taking of Jerusalem
by the Emperor Titus.’ He soon after painted the
‘Martyrdom of St. Erasmus,’ for St. Peter's, which is
now in the pontifical palace of Monte Cavallo. For
the Cavaliere de Pozzo he painted his first serics of
the ‘Seven Sacraments of the Romish Church,’ six of
which are now in the collection of the Duke of Rutland,
at Belvoir Castle ; one having been destroyed by fire
in 1816. In the years 1644 and 1647 he also painted
a second series, with variations, for M. de Chantclou,
which were formerly in the Orleans collection, and are
now among the most valued of the pictures belonging
to Lord Francis Egerton. They were bought by the
late Duke of Bridgewater for 4900 guineas.

Of the remaining history of this great painter, it
will be sufficient in this place to say, that in 163) he
was induced to return to Paris, where he was ap-
pointed principal painter to Louis XIII., and had
many commissions to execute important works. The
envy of contemporary artists disgusted him; and in
three years, under the pretence of fetching home his
wife, and scttling various affairs in Italy, he withdrew
from France, and finally settled at Rome, were he
died in 1665, in the seventy-first year of hisage. The
estimation in which he was held by Louis XII]. may
be gathered from the fact, that in the brevet of his
appointment of first painter to the king occur the fol-
lowing passages :—‘ His Majesty has chosen and re-
tained him to be his first painter, and in that capacity
has given him the general direction of all the works
of painting and embellishment that he may hence-
forward order for the decoration of his royal houses ;
ordering also, that none of his other painters shall
execute any of their works for his majesty without
having first submitted their designs to the said Sicur
Poussin, and reccived his directions and advice there-

18-42.)

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163

upon. And in order to give nim the means of main- {and we are not less si bea with the beauty and

taining himself in his service, his majesty grants him
the sum of three thousand livres asa yearly salary ;”
and ‘his Majesty has also granted to the Sieur Poussin
the house with the garden lying in the middle of his
inajesty’s gardens of the Thuileries.”’

We have already referred to the opinion of Fuseli
on the merits of Poussin as a landscape painter, to
which may be added that of Lanzi, who observes,—
“TI do not mean to exaggerate, when I say that the
Caracci improved the art of landscape painting, and
Poussin brought it to perfection.”

With regard to the imitation of the antique in his
figures, Reynolds seems to consider that it arose more
frour similarity of thought than plagiarism of fori.
He says, ‘Poussin lived and conversed with the
ancient statues so long, that he may be gaid to have
been better acquainted with them than with the people
about him. t have often thought that he carried
his veneration for them so far, as to wish to give his
works the air of ancient paintings. . . . No works of
any modern have so much the air of antique painting
as those of Poussin. His best performances have a re-
markable dryness of manner, which, though by no
means to be recommended for imitation, yet seems
perfectly correspondent to that ancient simplicity
which distinguishes his style. Like Polidoro, he
studied the ancients so much, that he acquired a habit
of thinking in their way, and seemed to know perfectly
the actions and gestures they would use on every
occasion.” Fuseli, on the other hand, charges him
with plagiarism, a charge fully borne out by the
[rave before referred to, ‘The Israelites gathering

anna.’ That learned and acute critic observes,—
“Though Poussin abstracted the theory of his propor-
tions from the antique, he is seldom umiform and pure
in his style of design: ideal only in parts, and oftener
so in female than in male characters, he supplies,
like Pietro Testa, antique heads and torsos with
limbs and extremities transcribed from the model.”

That he was devotedly attached to the forms of the
antique is obvious, and in a letter to M. de Chantelou,
he admits that he had applied to painting the theory
which the Greeks had introduced into their music; the
Dorian for the grave and serious, the Phrygian for
the vehement and passionate, the Lydian for the soft
and tender, and the Ionian for the riotous festivity of
his bacchanals. Still he did not neglect the advan-
tages to be derived from the study of the excellences
of Raffaelle and Guilio Romano, the former of whom
ee to have most deeply excited his admiration.
Indeed it has been considered, and with great justice,
that he can be hardly said to be inferior to that sublime
painter in the puny and majesty of his conceptions,
the select beauty of his forms, the grace and dignity of
his attitudes, and his just and animated expression of
the passions. His compositions, the result of a learned
and profound meditation, are simple, grand, and judi-
cious ; and it will not be denied that his works are dis-
tinguished by a refined and classical observance of the
propriety of costume.

0 his colouring many objections have been taken,
and it must be admitted that in his historical com-
positions the prevalence of the russet tint and the
unbroken red are far from being harmonious or rich.
De Piles, indeed, goes so far as to say that he is cold
and feeble as a colourist, but to this sweeping censure
Mr. Bryant makes the following reply :—‘ It did not
occur to that critic, that brilliancy of tints and splen-
dour of colour would ill accord with the solidity and
simplicity of effect so essential to heroic subjects; and
that the sublime and majestic would be degraded by a
union with the florid and the gay. The elevation of
his mind is conspicuous in everything he undertook ;

grandcur of the scenery he displays in his landscapes,
than with the dignificd characteristics that distinguish
his historical works.”

In the last letter this eminent man ever penned he
thus expresses himself concerning that part of his art
which consists of “ things which are not to be learned,
and which make an essential part of painting. First,
the subject must be noble. It should have received
no quality from the mere workman; and to allow
scope to the painter to display his powers he should
select that most capable of receiving beautiful form.
He must begin by composition, then ornament, pro-
priety, beauty, grace, vivacity, costume, probability,
and judgment in each and all. These at belong
solely to the painter, and cannot be taught. They are
the golden bough of Virgil, which no man can find or
gather, if his fate do not lead him to it. These nine
parts deserve, on several accounts, to be treated by
some good and learned author.” We may close this

aper by a short description of the person of Poussin
in aid of the portrait represented above. Hc was tall
and well proportioned; his hair black, but it became
very grey towards the end of his life; his complexion
olive, his ahi blue, his nose rather long, his forchead
large, and his looks altogether dignified yet modest.

BREAKWATERS.
I. CHERBOURG.

Tue nature and objects of breakwaters, to which
public attention has been lately directed by the pro-
mulgation of new projects, are not in general well
understood, except by persons residing at our sea-
ports or connected with maritime affairs. When
ships are lying at anchor in a port or harbour exposed
to the action of the sea, they are placed in some dan-
ger, and their crews are greatly incommoded, by the
incessant rolling of the waves towards them. Any
artificial erection which will stem these waves con-
stitutes a break:rater, though it may not be so desig-
nated. Some of these obstructions are pad sunken
vessels placed across the entrance of the harbour;
others are stone or wooden projections from the main-
land out into the sea, such as the moles at Genoa
and Naples, or the piers at Ramsgate and Margate.
But those to which the name of ‘“ breakwater’ has
been especially applicd are insulated dikes of stone,
forming a kind of artificial ridge of rock extending
nearly across the entrance to a harbour, and uncon-
nected with the mainland. The nature of the roadstead
or harbour, and the extent to which it is frequented by
shipping, determine the kind of barrier which shall be
formed.

There have been two breakwaters constructed in
inodern times, which, from the magnitude of the ar-
rangements connected with their construction, the
time and money expended, and the widely different
results produced, have obtained more notoricty than
any others. These two are those of Cherbourg and
of Plymouth.

During the numerous wars between England and
France, in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries,
it was found that while England had admirable ports
and harbours on her southern coast, whence ficcts
could pour out into the Channel, the French coast
opposite to it presented either sandy shores with
shallow water, or lofty cliffs dashed against by the
sca. M. Cart observes :—‘‘ The misfortunes of La
Hogue, which all the talents of Tourville could not
prevent, taught Louis the Fourteenth that in com-
pleting the defence of his frontier by land, he had
too much neglected his frontiers on the sea. This great
prince, however, profiting by a atta Soon dis-

164

covered that England owed the superiority of her
marine to the arsenals which she possessed in the
Channel.” The great Vauban was sent to examine
the northern coast of France, to see whether any
arsenal and port could be there constructed. He
reported “that the roadstead of Cherbourg possessed
the means of attack, of defence, and of protection ;
that it-was very capable of exerting an influence in
maritime war, and in their commercial relations with
Northern powers; that it was the spot on which the
head-quarters should be established on the coast of
the Channel: and«that it was a good central advanced
post towards England.”

We see, on referring to a map of France, that
Cherbourg is situated on that part of the French
coast nearly due south of the Isle of Wight; and that
although there is at this spot an inlet of the sea, it is
yet completely exposed to winds and waves from
the north. Any arrangements therefore for making
Cherbourg a post of attack and defence required
that something in the nature of a breakwater should
be constructed, to stem the violence of the waves,
and to form a harbour for the shipping. During the
earlier half of the last century many plans were pro-
posed for carrying out this object. One was, to build
a fort on each of the points of land which bound the
roadstead, and to construct another fort in the midst
of the sea, half-way between them, which should serve
both as a breakwater and as a garrisoned fort. Another
plan was, to construct, at the distance of a league in
the sea, a stone dike of two thousand toises in length,
leaving three open passages into the roadstead, one
at each end and one in the middle. This dike was
to have as its nucleus a number of old and worn-out
ships filled with stones: these ships were to be floated
out to their Proper situations, filled with stones till
they sunk, and then covered on all sides by masonry.

At length a plan was proposed which ultimately
received the sanction of the government. It was a
modification and improvement of the ee just spoken
of, but, as experience has shown, was bad in principle.
It was, to place nearly one hundred isolated structures
in the sea, extending in a line across the roadstcad or
harbour of Cherbourg, and forming a barrier which,
thouzh not continuous, was deemed sufficient to stem
the power of the waves. The structures were to be
immense truncated cones of wood, sunk to the bottom
of the sea, then filled to the top with stones, and lastly
surmounted by forts of masonry, on which small gar-
risons might be placed.

It was considered necessary in the first place to
make an experimental trial as tu the possibility of
constructing and sinking the Immense cones which
would be required. For this purpose a cone of
timber was constructed, thirty-six feet high, a hun-
dred feet in diameter at the top, and a hundred and
fifty at bottom, closed in all round, but open at top
and bottom. In order that this should float to the
spot where it was to be sunk, a uumber of air-casks
were attached to it; a moving-power was then applied,
the position was adjusted, the air-casks removed, and
the immense machine sunk into the waves.

The experimental trial being deemed satisfactory,
Arrangements were made for commencing operations
at Cherbourg. It was at first proposed to have ninety
cones to form the breakwater; but the number was
afterwards reduced to sixty-four,—a far higher num-
ber, however, than were destined to be built. The
cones were to be a hundred and fifty feet diameter at
the base, sixty fect diameter at the top, and from sixty
tu seventy feet in height, the top being a little above
the highest tide-level. The interval between the upper
part of every two adiacent cones was about seventy feet
across, and was proposed to be closed by a chain, when-

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

[Aprix 30,

ever it was deemed desirable to keep out foreign ships
Operations were commenced in the year 1784, ander
the direction of M. Cessart, the engineer who had pro-
posed the plan. More than fifteen hundred artificers
and workmen were employed in the work, besides a
numerous hody of soldiers; and eighty small vessels
were employed to carry out stones to fill the cones.
By the month of July, 1784, two cones had been con-
structed, floated out, and sunk; but before the second
one could be filled with stones, a storm arose and
destroyed a great part of the cone. In the following
year, three more cones were sunk ; in 1786, five;
and in 1787, five more: making altogether fifteen.
In the year 1788, three more cones were sunk, which
proved to be the last, although little more than one
sia of the proposed number. The truth was,
that the Government, sufficiently embarrassed by the
political and financial difficulties of that period, be-
came wearied with the slow progress and great cost of
the breakwater. The operations were suspended, after
the expenditure of about thirteen hundred thousand
pounds in six years, and the sinking of about five
million tons of stone in and around the eighteen cones.
Of the cones themselves, which cost one-third of the
entire outlay, and which were expected to brave storms
and tempests, one lasted fourteen years, one five years,
six four years, and all the other ten went to pieces the
year after they were finished.

Two or three years atter the cessation of the opera-
tions it was proposed to case over the surface of the
dike, as it then stood, with large blocks of stone ; and
to carry the height of the dike, along its whole extent,
so far above high-water mark, as to render it capable
of receiving batteries at the suinmit, at the middle, and
at the two extremities. So little was done in further-
ance of this plan during the period of war that fol-
lowed, that by the year 1803 the centre portion only
of the dike was brought above high-water mark. On
this was built a battery, which, together with a garrison
of soldiers, was swept away during a violent hurricane
in the year 1809.

The condition in which the breakwater has been
left is thus described in the ‘ Encyclopedia Britannica :’
—‘ At present sinall spots only are visible above the
surface of the sca at low-water of spring-tides, and
nowhere such spots exceed three feet in height. The
intermediate spaces are from three to fifteen feet
below the surface; and, taking the average, the whole
dike, from one end to the other, may be about four feet
below the surface of low-water at the spring-tides.
Near the middle, however, there is about one hundred
yards where the height rises to eighteen or twenty
feet above high-water, but it exhibits only a shapeless
mass of ruins. In one spot a large heap of stones has
been accumulated, as if to try how much weight might
safely be trusted upon it, before the attempt be made
to rebuild the fort. The largest of the stones in this
mass may be about four tons, and they decrease to the
size of two or three cwt. Of the remainder of the
dike very few parts are visible at low-water ; and at
this moment the greater part is four feet below the sur-
face of low-water. It is sufficiently high, however,
to break the face of the waves, and to make the port
of Cherbourg a safe anchorage, in some winds, for about
forty sail of the line.

Hedges.—The Dwarf Oak is a handsome prickly-leaved ever-
green, making such a tall close hedge as to afford not only good

shelter to the tield, but defy either pig or bullock tuo break
through, while it furnishes a good annual crop of pig-food in its
acorns ; besides a crop of that valuable article in dyeiny, the

gall-nut. The wonder is, that from the above qualities it has not
been introduced iuto England, where it would svon change the
whole winter aspect of the country, the hedge-rows exhibiting
throughout the year the bright green freshness of perpetual spring.

1842.)

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165

[Boats on the Ganges.”

THE GANGES.

Tue Ganges flows through some of the richest portions
of the earth, embellished by the fertility and splendour
of an exuberant vegetation, and peopled by sixty
millions of the human race. Descending from the
Himalaya Mountains, where it has its suurce, it soon
reaches the plains, and after receiving many tributaries,
some of which are larger than the Rhine, it empties its
waters into the ocean by several mouths, completing a
course of above fifteen hundred miles, and draining a
tract of country eight times larger than England.

The country through which the Ganges flows is di-
vided into three natural districts: 1. The great plain of
Bengal, which we shall first describe, extending from
south to north two hundred and eighty miles by one
hundred and eighty wide, and comprising four marked
tracts of country, commencing with the Sunderbunds,
a district between the mouths of the Ganges and the
Brahmapootra. This is the most unhealthy part of
India, and its appearance is thus described by Bishop
Heber :—‘‘ Nothing met the eye but a dismal and un-
broken line of thick black wood and thicket, apparently
impenetrable and interminable, which one might easily
imagine to be the habitation of everything monstrous,
disgusting, and dangerous, from the tiger and the cobra
de capello, down to the scorpion and mosquito—from
the thunder-storm to the fever.”’ The Sunderbunds
are dco 2) all the year round, entirely uncultivated,
-and inhabited only by a miserable population em-
ployed in cutting timber. The. next part is “the
country subject to inundation,” lying between the
Gauges and its branches, and also between that river
and the Brahmapootra, as far as 25° north latitude.

At the junction of the two rivers an immense tract of
country is overflowed to the depth of many feet, and
the towns and villages are built on artificial mounds.
The depth of alluvial earth is often one hundred and
thirty feet, and wells cannot be sunk. As soon as the
waters subside, rice is sown, and this district could
supply the whole of Beugal with that staple article of
rae In these alluvial tracts the rivers easily change
their course, and there are old beds of the Ganges at
a distance of several miles from the present channel.
The third district, which is partly situated west of the
Hooghly, and partly north of the twenty-fifth degree of
north latitude, is not subject to inundation, except near
the rivers in the northern part; but the soil abounds
with springs, and irrigation is extensively practised.
The country is luxuriantly productive in cotton, indigo,
sugar, and grain; and the silk-worm is cultivated.
Towards the northern extremity of this tract there are
large portions of waste land. The fourth district,
situated between the plain of the Ganges and the lower
region of the Himalaya Mountains, is called the Tarai,
or ‘the swamp,’ and in the province of Bengal has a
width of from twenty to twenty-five miles, but narrows
to the width of a few miles towards its north-western
extremity. The soil isa rich alluvium, and the waters
which flow from the higher regions form a swamp 1n
consequence of the slope being insufficient to drain
them off. The vegetation is exceedingly rich and
profuse ; but the heat, acting upon so moist a surface,
engenders disease, and the only inhabitants, eae
elephants, rhinoceroses, tigers, buffaloes, and other wild
animals, are a few wood-cutters. or
The second great district drained by the Ganges is di-
vided from Bengal by the river Coosy, and the Rajm ahal

166

Hills, and extends westward to the junction of the
Jumna with the Ganges, comprising the plain of Bahar ;
and here the moistalluvium of Bengal is exchanged fora
sandy soil. No part is inundated, but the soil 1s rendered
highly productive by irrigation, and resembles a garden,
bearing luxuriant crops of opium, indigo, rice, and
cotton. That part of the district north of the Ganges,
though very fertile, is swampy in some places, and
cultivation is less advanced. There are numerous
Jakes, and the earths abound with saltpetre.

The third and last district extends from south-east
to north-west, between the Ganges and the Jumna,
and comprises the plain of the Doab, Oude, and Roliil-
cund. The soil is dry, the climate temperate, and the
palm-tree disappears. Wheat, barley, and other similar
crops are cultivated, and the fruits of Europe arrive
at perfection, while the heat of summer is favourable
to rice, cotton, indigo, and the productions of the
tropics. Thus the great river and its tributaries
water regions whose productions are diversified by

climate and other causes, and hence it becomes the.

anedium by which a great traffic is facilitated. The
Ganges 13 navigable throughout the year for small
boats to the foot of the Himalayas, and for six months
for boats of a larger size. Major Rennel stated that,
the number of boats employed on the Ganges was
thirty thousand, and the traffic 1s now much more
active than in his time. They are generally crazy and
ill-appointed vessels. The Bengalec and Chittagong
‘vesscls have high heads, with large clumsy rudders
suspended by ropes, and worked by helmsmen raised
ata great height above the vessel. The European mode
of rigging brigs and sloops is coming slowly into use.
The ‘ panchway,’ or passage -boat, is a large and broad
vessel “‘ shaped like a snuffer-tray,” with a deck fore
and aft, the middle having a roof of palm-branches,
over which is thrown a coarse cloth. The master steers
with a long oar, and another man stands in the fore
part with a long oar, which he uses for sounding as
well as in navigating the boat, and six cross-legged
rowers impel her onward with short paddles, which
are employed, however, in the same way as oars: a
rude sail is hoisted when the wind is favourable.
Bishop Heber describes a Bengalee boat as “ the
‘simplest and rudest of all possible structures. It is,”
he says, “‘decked over, throughout its whole length,
with bamboo, and on this is erected a low light fabric
af bamboo and straw, exactly like a small cottage
without a chimney: this is the cabin, baggage-room,
&c.; here the passengers sit and sleep ; and here, if it
be mtended for a cooking-boat, are one or two such
ranges of brick-work like English hot-hearths, but
not rising more than a few inches above the deck,
‘with small, round, sugar-loaf holes, like those in a
Jime-kiln, adapted for dressing victuals with charcoal.
As the roof of this apartment is by far too fragile for
men to stand or sit on, and as the apartment itself
‘takes up nearly two-thirds of the vessel, upright
bamboos are fixed by iis side, which support a kind of
erating of the same material immediately above the
roof, on which, at the height probably of six or
eicht feet above the surface of the water, the boatmen
sit or stand to work the vessel. They have for oars
1042 bamboos with circular boards at the end, a longer
one of the same sort to steer with, a long rough
Lamboo for a mast, and one or sometimes two sails of
a square form, (or rather broader above than below,)
of a very coarse and flimsy canvas. Nothing can seem
more clumsy or dangerous than these boats. Dan-
xerous I believe they are, but witha fair wind they
vail over the water merrily.” The ‘ budgerow,’ a
corruption froin the English word barge, though a
eluinsy, is far from being an inelegant-looking object
an the water. It is used as a passage-boat, and is

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(Aprix 30,

generally accompanied by a luggage-boat, in which
the cooking is carried on; and a small ‘dinghee’ is
useful to keep up a communication between the two
boats in case one of them becomes fixed on ashoal. The
‘ pulwars’ are a class of boats used for the conveyance
of goods, and are both clumsily built and ill-managed,
so that it is often difficult to avoid being run foul of.
In a long reach of the river, the large ‘ pulwars,’ with
sails gliding past in all directions, reminded Bishop
Heber of the Manks jagger-boats at the mouth of the
Mersey. The floating shops are curious and charac-
teristic. The nautical tradesman sets out when the
state of the river is most favourable, after the rains,
and proceeds to Agra, Meerut, or Lucknow, by their
respective rjvers, ascending as far upward as his boat
can carry him, and furnishing glass, cutlery, per-
fumery, and a great varicty of articles to the people of
the upper provinces. The Ganges owes a great deal
of its animation and interest to the innumerabie boats
which glide on its bosom. At every point of land
may be seen what Heber terms “a coppice of masts,”
waiting for a wind, while other vessels, with their
masts down, drift with the stream. In one part of his
voyage he speaks of the number of fishing-boats as
: really extraordinary,” most of them carrying a small
sail spread between two bamboos, one on each gun-
wale; and sometimes two of the crew might be seen,
each holding a garment extended by the feet and
hands to catch the favouring breeze.

The views on the banks are not less interesting or
lively than those on the river. Even the tediousness
of tracking or hauling is compensated by the beauty
of inland objects. The river itself, glistening in the
sun, with its moving scenery of boats and vessels, is
often several miles wide, and at the period of the
inundations the voyager sails over the inundated
country amidst villages raised slightly above the
water. In tracking, the boat is often not more than
two or three yards on the shore; and the late Miss
Roberts, in her ‘Scenes and Characteristics of Hin-
dostan,’ thus describes the moving panorama which
then passes before the voyager :—“ The smallest vil-
lages on the banks of the Ganges possess landing-
places, which we vainly seek in the richest and most
populous parts of Europe. From an ample terrace,
at the summit of the bank, broad steps descend into
the river, enclosed on cither side by handsome balus-
trades. These are not unfrequently flanked with
beautiful temples, mosques, or pagodas, according to
the creed of the founders; or the ghaut is approached
through a cloistered quadrangle, having the religious
edifice in the centre. The banyan and the peepul
fling their sacred branches over the richly-carved
minarets and pointed domes, and those in the Brah-
minee villages are crowded with troops of monkeys,
whose grotesque and diverting antics contrast strangely
with the devotional attitudes of the holy multitudes

erforming their orisons in the stream. Nothing can
be more animated than an Indian ghaut: at scarcely
any period of the day is it destitute of groups of
bathers, while graceful femaie forms are Sond
passing and repassing, loaded with water-pots, whic
are balanced with the nicest precision on their heads.
The ghaut, with its cheerful assemblage, disappears,
and is succeeded by some lofty overhanging chiff,
wooded to the top, and crowned with one of those
beautiful specimens of Oriental architecture scattered
with rich profusion over the whole country. Green
vistas next are seen, giving glimpses of rustic villages
in the distance, and winding alleys of so quiet a cha-
racter, that the passer-by may fancy that these seques-
tered lanes lead to the cottage-homes of England,—a
brief illusion, speedily dissipated by the appearance of
some immense herd of buffaloes. The savage herds

1842.]

are left behind, and the scene changes again ; deep
forests are passed, whose untathomable recesses lie
concealed in eternal shade; then cultivation returns ;
wide pastures are spread alung the shore, covered
with innumerable herds; the gigantic elephant is
seen under a tree, fanning off flies with a branch of
palm, or pacing along, bearing his master in a howdah
through the indigo plantations. European dwellings
arise in the midst of park-like scenery ; and presently
the wild barbaric pomp of a native city bursts upon
the astonished eye.” Heber also remarks that some
of the villages on the banks of the river, surrounded
‘by natural meadows and hedge-rows, were 80 like
English, that but for the cocoas we could have sup-
posed ourselves at home.” Some of the villages are as
neat as any. of those in Europe, shaded by banyans,
palms, peepuls, tamarinds, and various flowering
trees, and situated in the midst of fields of rice,
cotton, sugar-canes, or indigo—the latter, when cut,
sinelling like new-mown hay.

The navigation of the Ganges by the common river-
boats is far from being peau! uick for commer-
cial purposes. At the period of the inundation the
navigation is most speedy, the wind generally blowing
from a quarter which enables a vessel to stem the
current by sails, while if proceeding downward the
current bears her rapidly along. In the dry season
their course down the stream docs not exceed forty
miles in twelve hours, but at other periods from fifty
to seventy miles are performed in the same time. In
ascending the stream the boats seldom advance more
than twenty miles a-day, and when tracking is neces-
sary, which is done by men and also by oxen, a much
less distance is accomplished. In 1833, by the most
rapid mode of land travelling from Meerut to Calcutta
the journey was performed in twelve days, a distance
of eight hundred miles, but at an enormous cost, with
great fatigue and discomfort. The quickest convey-
ance for a small package occupied five weeks. By
water the voyage to Calcutta was about seven weeks,
and from Calcutta the average time exceeded four
months, and the transit of heavy goods often oc-
cupied six and seven months by the clumsy native
craft. Meerut was in effect as far from Calcutta as
the latter was from London, and the costs of freight
and insurance were even higher. The voyage from
Calcutta to Allahabad occupied between two and three
months. In consequence ot the obstacles to the upward
navigation of the river, many articles were unattainable
in the upper provinces, and the ae aes interchange
of commodities between the different provinccs was
interrupted and obstructed. These circumstances
induced the late Lord William Bentinck to adopt
measures for giving to the rivers of India the advan-
tages of steam-navigation; and in 1832 four iron
steamers of sixty tons each, drawing two feet water,
were made in London, and in 1834 they were plying
on the Ganges between Calcutta and Allahabad with
the most signal success. In 1837 their number was
increased, and there is every prospect of the internal
navigation of the British possessions in India being
carried on exclusively by steam-boats, a result which
will be of the greatest importance in a military and
political as well as acommercial point of view. Ships
on arriving in the Hooghly were generally two or
three weeks in working up to Calcutta, and the un-
healthy Sunderbunds became the grave of many a
European. Now, the arrival of the ship is announced
by telegraph, a steamer comes down from Calcutta,
and she is quickly towed out of this region of death,
and reaches Calcutta in two or three days, instead of as
many weeks.

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

16¢

TEMPLE OF DIANA AT EPHESUS.

Tue temple of Diana at Ephesus was counted as
one of the seven wonders of the world, on account of
its extent and magnificence, at the period of the birth
of Christ. The same rank was held by an earlier
temple than that which existed at this time. Xerxes,
the Persian king, who destroyed the idol temples
wherever he came, spared that one on accownt of
its extreme magnificence and grandeur: but it was
set on fire, on the night Alexander the Great was
born, and burned to the ground. This was done by a
man named Erostratus, who confessed that he had
done the deed to immortalise his name by the de-
struction of this wonderful building. To baulk him,
it was decreed that his name should never be men-
tioned; but such a decree served only to make his
name more memorable. Alexander offered to rebuild
the temple, on condition that the Ephesians would
allow his name to be placed in front ; but this offer was
respectfully declined. The matcrials saved from the
fire were sold, and the women parted with their
Jewels; and the money thus raised served to carry on
the work till other contributions came in. ese
were sent most liberally from all parts, and in a short
time amounted to an immense treasure.

The new temple stood between the city and the
ort, and was built at the base of a mountain, at the
read of a marsh, which situation is said by Pliny to
have been chosen as less liable to earthquakes. It
however had the effect of doubling the expenses; for
vast charges were incurred in making drains to convey
the water that came down the hill into the morass and
the Cayster. It is said that in this work so much stone
was used as exhausted all the quarries of the country
To secure the foundations of the conduits and sewers,
which were to support the weight of so prodigious a
structure, Pliny says that there were laid beds of char-
coal, well rammed, and over them others of wool, and
that two hundred and twenty (or, assome copies read, one
hundred and twenty) a elapsed before this grand
temple was completed by the contributions of all the
cities of Asia (Proper ?). It was four hundred and
twenty-five feet in length and two hundred and twenty
in breadth, supported by one hundred and twenty-
seven marble valare sixty feet high, of which thirty-
Six were curiously cu pee and the rest polished.
The pillars were said to have been the gifts of as many
kings, and the bas-reliefs on one of them were wrought
by Scopas, one of the most famous of ancient sculptors ;
and the altar was almost entirely the work of Praxiteles.
The first architect, and he who appears to have planned
the whole work, was Dinocrates, who built the city of
Alexandria, and who offered to carve Mount Athos
into a statue of Alexander. There are many coins
extant which bear the heads of different Roman em-
perors, and exhibit on the reverse the temple, with a
frontispiece of two, four, six, and even cight columns.
It was despoiled and burnt by the Goths, in the reign
of the emperor Gallienus. The glory of Ephesus and
its temple must, however, have been dimmed before
this by the progress of Christianity. The city depended
for its wealth upon its temple, which attracted from all
parts multitudes of worshippers : the people knew this ;
and hence their clamour on the preaching of the gospel
by St. Paul, and the effect of the representation made
by Demetrius. The city and temple rose and flourished
and fell together. The former is now an inconsider-
able village; and of the latter nothing remains but
some fragments of ruin and some broken columns.

The heathen goddess Diana was primarily the moon,
but was worshipped under a variety of names, charac-
ters, andforms. Thesame people sometimes worshipped

’ the different qualities attributed to her, by different
4

168

names and different impersonations. She was the god-
dess of hunting, of travelling, of chastity, of childbirth,
of enchaniments, &c. ; and in her different characters she
was Diana, Luna, Lucina, Hecate, Proserpine, besides
many other names derived from the places in which she
was worshipped. Her most usual figure was that of a
huntress, with a crescent on her head, and attended by
dogs. But the Ephesian Diana was differently repre-
sented from any other, being figured with several tiers
or rows of breasts—intimating that she was at Ephesus
regarded as Nature, the mother of mankind. The
image wore a sort of high-crowned cap or mitre; and
its feet were involved in the garments. Notwithstand-
ing what the “ town-clerk ” says, in Acts, c. xix., v. 35,
about “the image which fell down from Jupiter,” it
seems that Mucianus, who had been three times consul,
and whose authority Pliny follows (lib. xvi., 40), learnt
at Ephesus that this famous image was the work of a
very ancient sculptor named Canetias. As he further
states that the original statue had never been changed,

it must have been the same to which the “town-clerk’’.

there refers. It seems to have been an ugly little
statue, made of several pieces of wood—generally said
to be ebony, but Mucianus thought vine-wood—which
precludes the otherwise possible idea that the material
might have fallen from the sky in the form of an
aérolite; and shows that the priests availed themselves
of the remote antiquity and the uncouth form of this
image to persuade the people of its divine origin.—
From the Pictorial Bible.

The Whirlpool of Niagara.—The river, which has gradually
contracted its channel very much, after passing the great white
sheet of the American Fall, proceeds in a curved furm towards
the north-west; and after falling over tremendous rapids, sud-
denly turns at right angles to its former course, and runs towards
the north-east, still hemmed in by the precipice, which now in-
creases in altitude. Here it has scooped out a vast basin in the
rocks, of a circular form; and the rushing and roaring waters,
entering the narrow gorge from the south-east, strike by their
impetus with such force on the perpendicular wall of the oppo-
site gorge, that an under-current is immediately created, and
the waters whirl in a dizzy vortex, until they find egress towards
the north-east, between the precipitous walls of the chasm. As
the rock is very lofty here (between two and three hundred feet),
the view from above is so distant, that very little but the faint
whirling or concentrically enlarging circles of the water can be
traced; for the largest trunks of trees which are spinning in its
eddies seem there no bigger than sticks. It is from below that
the curious visitant must see the effect. But the descent is
dangerous from the vicinity of the Table Rock, and it is neces-
sary to go back about a mile on the road, and ask permission to
cross a farmer’s grounds, where there is a path more accessible.
Here, after crossing a field or two, you enter into a beautiful
wood, and, going through it fora quarter of a mile, begin ta
descend by a narrow, obscure, and winding path, cut out of the
mountain, which is covered with the primeval forest. The
descent is not very difficult, perfectly safe, and with a little ex-
pense would be pleasant. It leads to the centre of the bay-coast
of the whirlpool, where there are but few rocks, and a narrow
shingle beach. Here you see the vastness of the scene, the great
expanse of the circular basin, the mass of mountain which en-
closes it almost to its very edge, and the overhanging Table
Rock, nearly like that at the Falls, and probably produced by a
similar cause, the disintegration of the slate beds under the
more unyielding limestone. So extensive, however, is the sur-
face of water, that the huge trunks of trees floating in the
concentric circles of the whirling waters, when they reach their
ultimate doom in the actual vortex, appear still not larger than
emall logs. They revolve for a great length of time, touching
the shores in their extreme gyrations, and ther, as the circles
narrow, are toased about with increasing rapidity, until, in the
iniddle, the largest giants of the forest are lifted perpendicularly,
and appear to be sucked under after a time altogether. A sin-
gular part of the view is the very sharp angle of the precipice,
and its bank of débris on the American side. You also just
catch aview of the foaming rapid on the right; and an attentive

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

[Apriz 30, 1842.

observer will perceive, that in the centre of the vast basin of the
whirlpool the water is several feet higher than at the edges, ap-
pearing to boil up from the bottom. .. . It is said that timber
and logs coming over the rapids from the Falls are detained,
sometimes for months, before they are finally engulfed in the
whirlpool, and doubtless it is never free from them; and per-
haps there may be occasionally a counteracting current from
the furious winds which rage in the chasm, or other causes, to

revent their approach to the centre; and in this way those who

ave escaped, have escaped merely because they were only tossed
about in the outer rings of the whirl, and never approached its
tremendous centre, from which, I conceive, by an under current,
the water escapes to the gorge below, and from which, when
once involved, nothing could possibly emerge; as the very boil-
ing up of the waters, and the tremendous force exerted there on
the trees and logs, evince. The visit to the shores of the whirl-
pool may be attended with the gratification of another kind of
curiosity to the naturalist, for he may there see the rattlesnake
in his native horrors. The boy who went with me as a guide
endeavoured to find aden or cleft in which this tremendous
reptile might be lying, but he was unsuccessful, although they
are frequently seen and killed there, being, after all, fortunately
sluggish and inactive. We saw other snakes, but not the dreaded
one.— The Canadas tn 1841, by Sir R. Bonnycastle.

Rhubarb.—This valuable plant should occupy a ccrrer in
every garden, however limited; and the cottager will find it
useful and wholesome for himself and children, from its
cooling properties. Independent of the cheap pies and tarts
which are made of the stalks, they may be boiled and eaten with
bread ; by blanching the stalks, which is readily done, they are
not only improved in flavour, and come to perfection earlier, but
one-half the quantity only of sugar is required: to accomplish
this, it is but necessary to exclude the light; a large flowerpot
or old butter-firkin will do this, or a few hazel rods or rails
covered with fern or straw, or any similar means, as circumstances
may dictate. If the crowns have been mulched duriag winter,
they will be forwarded. .

Bridges in the Himalaya.—Among the characteristics of this
Alpine country, intersected by numerous unfordable streams,
must be mentioned the various kinds of bridges, or substitutes
for bridges. The sango, or wooden bridge, is sometimes only a
single plank thrown across a chasm, or perhaps a notched tree in
an inclined position. But more frequent than the wooden bridge
is the jhoola, or rope bridge, which consists of five or six cables,
formed of a sort of grass, named moonja. These are placed
close together, and above is a hollow piece of fir-tree, secured by

gs driven through below; from this hangs a loop of three or
four ropes, which serves as a seat for passengers, and also as a re-
ceptacle for baggage. This block is pulled across by two pieces
of twine, and the conveyance is pretty safe, but greauly alarming
to a person unused to it, ag the stream rushes with frightful
rapidity beneath. The longest bridge of this kind I crossed was
under Rampoor, where the river is two hundred and eleven feet
broad. At Wangtoo it is only ninety-two feet ; but the velocity
of the current is so great that two of my servants, who once
crossed it, were so afraid, that they would not venture again, and
preferred swimming over; one of them reached the opposite bank
with difficulty, being completely exhausted, and the other was
drowned. The zuzum, of which there is a bad one below Nu-
mega, is formed of twigs, very indifferently twisted; there are
five or six cables for the feet to rest upon, and side ropes, about
four feet above the others, to hold by, connected with the lower
ones by open wicker-work or ribs, one or two feet apart. The
side ropes are at a most inconvenient distance from each other,
aud in one place they are so far asunder that a person cannot
reach both with his extended arms. The ropes, from being con-
structed of such frai] materials, do not bear much stretching, and
the bridge forms a curve the sixth part of a circle. Frequent
accidents have occurred here; and only a month before I crossed,
in August last, two people were lost, by one of the side ropes
giving way. The guides that accompanied me did not tell me
of this until they saw ten or twelve of my loaded followers upon
the bridge at once. I was standing on the bank at this time, and
the news of the accident spread with rapidity; and some of my
people were so much alarmed that they could neither move one
way nor another, and stood trembling for a long time. Two, in
greater terror than the rest, precipitated my tent into the Sutluj.
—Captain Gerard's Account of the Himalaya.

SupPpLEMENT. ]

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

169

DAY AT A PIANOFORTE FACTORY

{lttterior of Messrs. Broadwood's Factory—West Cential Kange.

A nunpReb and twenty years ago, Dt. Atné, then a | according to Mr. Hogarth, “ consisted of a

uare

stripling, who, like many other striplings, loved) box of smal] depth, over which was placed a sounding-

music much better than the study of the law, used to
delight in practising by stealth after the family had
retired to rest. He had in his bed-room an old spinet,
from which, after muffling the strings to deaden the
sound, he drew such tones as it could afford, and which
have been described as “ weak, wity tones, between
a cough and a chirp, elicited by keys rattling like the
dry bones of a skeleton.”

f Arne, or any one who, like Arne, had been ac-
customed to the clavichords, the virginals, the spinets,
and the harpsichords of past ages. could see 4 piano-
forte of modern times, how great would be the chan
perceived! All these instruments, together with the
psaltery, or dulcimer, act on the same principle, a prin-
ciple which marks a separation between them and the
violin on the one part, and the lute, the harp, and the
guitar, on the other. This principle is the striking of a
stretched cord, to produce from it the tone due to its
length, thickness, and tension; yet though fundamen-
tally the same, how different in éffect are these several
instruments! The modes in which the principle is mo-
dified in the several forms of instruments are curious,
and may thus be briefly glanced at. The ancient
psaltery (nearly the same instrument as the modern

mer occasionally seen in our streets) was probabl
the original whence all the others have emanated ; and,

No. 647,

board of fir, and on this sounding-board were stretched
a set of strings of steel and brass, tuned to the notes
of the scale.” They were struck or played upon by
two little rods held in the hands of the player. A
great change was effected when the little rods were
abandoned, and mechanism introduced whereby each
rr was provided with a lever which struck it.
The lever constitutes the key of such instruments as
this, and, in the form of an instrument called the clavy.
chord, was provided at the hinder end with a little brass
wedge that struck the string when the front end ot
the ey was pressed down. To improve the tone eli
cited from the string the brass wedge was superseded
by a quill, and the instrument then acquired the
names of the virginal and the spinet. As a still
further improvement, it was proposed to have two
ae to every note, so as to Increase the volume of
sound: this involved a considerable increase in the
complexity of the mechanism, and the improved in-
strument, under the name of the harpsichord, was in
high repute during the greater part of the last century.
At length occurred the happy thought of dispensing
with the quills, and using little wooden hammers
covered with leather, as a meanis of eliciting the tones
of the strings, a modification which gave rise to the
modern pianoforte, so named from the power of the

VoL. XI.--Z

170 THE PENNY
Instrument in producing “ piano” and “ forte,” or loud
and soft effects.

It has been said, in a recent article of the West-
minster Review—‘' With a little allowable flattery of
the truth, the bookcase, in an inventory of the goods
belonging to any well-ordered English house, might
be designated as one of its necessary articles of fur-
niture—not as one of its luxuries: the place of popu-
larity among the latter being claimed by the piano-
forte.” Whether we rank it as an article of furniture
or as a luxury, it is certain that the pianoforte has
become diffused in an extraordinary degree in this
country. Those who can carry their recollection back
over a period of thirty or forty years, will remember
the pianoforte as an instrument for the noble and the
wealthy, eed seen in the houses of the middle
classes: they will remember the gradual steps b
which it has reached the domestic firesides of the bul
of the class just alluded to; and they will be prepared
to expect that such an extension in the use must have
brought along with it extensive plans of improvement,
and equally extensive manufacturing arrangements:
yet there are probably few, even of those who are
familiar with the use of the pianoforte, who are aware
of the complex mechanism of the modern instruments,
or of the gigantic scale on which the manufacture is
conducted. On these points we shall endeavour to
offer a few words of information, which we are enabled
to du by the courtesy of Messrs. Broadwood, the emi-
nent manufacturers. This firm, which has existed in
the metropolis for more than a century, is one of
those by whom the pianoforte has been brought to its
present state of perfection. Like most other products
of ingenuity, this instrument is indebted to many
minds for its advancement. One improvement we
owe to a Broadwood, another to an Erard, others to
the Clementis, the Stodarts, the Tomkisons, &c., and
all have profited by the labours of each.

Messrs. Broadwood's principal factory is situated in
the Horseferry Road, Westminster, in the immediate
vicinity of two other establishments which have already
engaged our attention, viz., the ‘“‘ London Marble
Works,” and the ** Westminster Gas Works.’’ Who-
ever might conjecture that a pianoforte factory was
inerely a large workshop in the rear of the wareroom
in which the finished instruments are sold, would be
somewhat astonished at visiting the one to which we
allude. In the Horseferry Road are two double gates,
Opening into courts or quadrangles; and in Holywehl
Street, three hundred feet southward of it, are two
other gates, also opening immediately on the same
quadrangles; and ihe whole of the intermediate space,
Spreading to a wide extent east and west, is occupied
by the factory. On entering one of the gates, we find
before us a long open court, occupied principally by
piles and tiers and logs of wood, and bounded on
either side by ranges of workshops extending three
hundred feet in length. Advancing half-way along
the court, we find, oneither side, an archway, leading
beneath the buildings to other courts or open quad-
rangles, one to the east and one to the west of that by
which we enter: these quadrangles, like the first, are
bounded on both sides by long and uniform ranges of
workshops. We are then enabled to see the extent
and form of the factory. It consists of four parallel
ranges of buildings, every range lighted by windows
on both sides, and having in general three tiers or
stories of workshops in height.

The four ranges are separated’ by the three court-

ards, and at the ends are four or five dwelling-houses
inhabited by the superintendents and foremen of the
establishment. Each range is wide enough to have in
most parts two workshops in width; and as most of
the ranges are three stories in height, there is an

MAGAZINE. [Apriz, 1842.
ageregate length of workshop truly enormous, in fact
it considerably exceeds half a mile—an extent to which
there are probably very few parallel instances jin the
metropolis.

In these four ranges of buildings three or four hun-
dred men are engaged on the various component parts
of pianofortes, from the first sawing of the rough
timber, to the polishing and repwiatiug of the finished
instruments. Besides these there are many others
engaged in the smaller branches of the manufacture,
who do not work on the premises. In many of the
workshops the employment seems to the eye of a
stranger to differ but little from common joiner’s or
cabinet work; while in others it has evident relation
to musical arrangements. These distinctions we may
exemplify by taking a hasty glance through all the
four ranges of buildings.

The eastern range is occupied at one end by stores
of mahogany and other woods, pHed up for seasoning
Then we come to shops occupied by ‘ packing-case
makers’ and ‘bottom-makers,’ the latter of whom
make the strong framing which forms the bottom of
a pianoforte. Above these are workshops in which
‘square-case makers,’ and ‘sounding-board makers’
or ‘belly-men,’ are at work. To understand these
technical terms, it may be well to remark that modern
pianofortes are divided into five classes, viz., grand,
semt-grand, cabinet, cottage, and square (the distinctive
characters of which we shal] explain farther on); that
each workman generally confines his labours to one
of these kinds; and that the ‘case’ is the hollow box
in which all the mechanism of the instrument is con
tained. A ‘square-case maker,’ then, is the workman
who makes the hollow case for a square pianoforte.
The ‘sounding-board,’ or ‘belly,’ is a thin plank of fir,
to which some of the internal mechanism is fixed;
and its use is to augment the sounds emitted by the
strings: the ‘ bellyman’ is the maker of a ‘sounding-
board” The upper floor of this range, like part of the
middle floor, is occupied by ‘square-case makers.’
At the north end of this building are extensive open
sheds, in which mahogany and lime-tree logs and planks
are stored up for seasoning previous to use.

In the open quadrangle which separates the east
range from that which we will call the east central
range, are piles and stacks of mahogany, deal, beech,
sycamore, and other kinds of wood used in the manu-
facture, every log and plank being marked to denote
the time during which it has been exposed to the season-
ing operation of the air, and all arranged with the
utmost system and regularity.

On crossing this court-yard to the east central range
of buildings, we find numerous workshops, some of
them as much asa hundred and twenty feet in length,
occupied by workmen in various departments. On
the ground-floor are the ‘cutting-room’ and the ‘sea-
soning-room’ or ‘hot-room.’ The former of these is
the room in which the principal pieces of wood for a

ianoforte are marked out and cut roughly into shape.

ike the ship-builder and the coach- builder, the piano-
forte-maker shapes the various pieces of wood by
moulds or pattern-pieces, tracing chalkmarks for the
guidance of the saw. The ‘seasoning-room’ is one
which exemplifies the scrupulous care taken in the
preparation of the wood before its employment in the
manufacture. Every separate piece, after having been
exposed to the air for some years, is before final use
brought into this room, and kept for a long time
exposed toa temperature of about one hundred degrees
until the fibres are brought toa state of dryncss as
complete as can be obtained. The ‘seasoning-room’ is
heated by hot-water pipes; and it is also provided
with a steaming-tank for steaming planks which are
to be bent to any reauired curve.

SUPPLEMENT. | THE PENNY
Another portion of the lower floor of this range is
occupied by ‘hammer-makers,’ workmen employed in
making the minute and complicated mechanism by
which the keys are brought into connexion with the
strings. ‘Cleaners-off’ and ‘ polishers’ CUPy other
portions of the floor; their employments, as the terms
seem to imply, having reference to the instruments
when ina nearly finished state. Adjacent to these are
rooms in which finished instruments are placed before
being sent from the factory. The middle floor of this
range exhibits long workshops occupied by various
classes of workmen, among whom are ‘grand,’ ‘semi-
grand,’ ‘cabinet,’ and ‘ cottage sounding-board makers,’
or ‘belly-men, whose office we have before alluded to ;
‘cottage-case makers’ and ‘cabinet-case makers.’ In
continuation of the same story are shops for ‘ fitters-
up’ and ‘top-makers,’ the former of whom put together
the various component parts made by other workmen,
while the ‘top-makers’ fabricate the lids or covers of
‘the instrument. On the upper floor are repetitions of
some of the arrangements seen below, such as ‘case-
makers,’ ‘belly-men,’ and ‘finishers,’ together with
another class of workmen not yet spoken of—viz., the
‘key-makers.’ Contiguous to the northern end of this
range is a series of saw-pits, in which the logs are cut.
Proceeding through an archway westward we now
come to the central court, occupied, like the eastern
one, principally with piles and logs of mahogany.
Open sheds, too, placed in various parts of the factory,
exhibit an enormous quantity of wood, most of which
is of a fine and valuable character. The value and
importance of the stock of timber kept on hand in an
establishment of this kind rest on two grounds, the
beauty and excellence of the wood itself, and the
necessity for allowing every plank and log to be
thoroughly seasoned before use. The log lies a long
time before it is cut into planks; the planks are left
through another long period before they are cut into
shape for use; and the pieces thus cut are again left
some time to season; so that almost every piece of
wood employed in a pianoforte remains in the factory
several years before it is finally used. This entails an
enormous investment of capital; for there is on the
remises a stock of wood sufficient for two years’ manu-
cture, equivalent to about five thousand pianofortes.
The workshops on both sides of the middle court
exhibit scenes of busy industry similar to those before
noticed. There are ‘case-makers’ and ‘belly-men,’
‘fitters-up’ and ‘polishers.’ Besides these there are,
in the east central range, a ‘veneer store-room,’ in
which valuable fancy-woods are kept; shops for
‘hammer-makers,’ ‘hammer-rail makers,’ and ‘ desk-

makers.’ At the northern end of this range is an
engine-house, and also a shed for mahogany logs.
Some of the buildings, too, have flat leaded roofs, on

which timber is placed for the better exposure to
airandsun. Near the principal entrance to the pre-
mises, and in the same range, is the store-room of the
principal foreman, in which all the smaller articles
required in the manufacture are kept. This room,
and the whole arrangements connected with it, are
conducted on the most scrupulous system, an indis-
pensable requisite where several hundred workmen
are to be supplied with working materials.

On the opposite side of the middle court is the range
which, for the sake of distinction, we will term the
west central range. Our frontispiece presents a view
through part of one of the worksbops in this range,
and will serve to convey some idea of the general
appearance of these extensive shops. It is one of the
‘cabinet finishing shops’ where the cabinet pianofortes
go through some of the later processes of the manu-
acture: for the sake of clearness, only one-half the
length of the shop is shown in the cut.

MAGAZINE. 71

The shop just alluded to 1s on the middle floor of
the west central range; the upper floor being occupied
by ‘square-case makers’ and ‘belly-men;’ and the
lower by ‘regulating and tuning rooms,’ a‘ glue-room,’
a ‘rosewood-store,’ and a ‘veneer-room.’ Inthis latter .
room we saw, among other costly specimens of veneer,
some slabs or sheets taken from a tree which has had
much notoriety, and which strikingly illustrates the
value placed upon fine wood. Logs for veneers are
valued partly on account of the beauty of the pattern
or figure, and partly on account of the size and sound-
ness of the veneers which may be cut from them; and
in the instance here spoken of the two qualities were
combined in an unprecedented degree. It is generally
known that Honduras mahogany is not so highly valued
for cabinet-work as Spanish mahogany; it is therefore
in the pianoforte manufacture used for some of the
parts which are afterwards veneered with Spanish
mahogany, rosewood, or some other kind of fancy wood.
But in the present case a tree of Honduras mahogany,
imported about sixteen years ago, has far exceeded
what Spanish wood could exhibit. The circumstance
was thus alluded to in one of the volumes of the
‘Library of Entertaining Knowledge,’ a few years
ago :—‘ Spanish mahogany is decidedly the most beau-
tiful; but occasionally, though not very often, the
Honduras wood is of singular brilliancy; and it is
then eagerly sought for, to be employed in the most
expensive cabinet-work. A short time ago Messrs.
Broadwood, who have long been distinguished as
makers of pianofortes, gave the enormous sum of
three thousand pounds for three logs of mahogany.
These logs, the produce of one tree, were each about
fifteen feet long and thirty-eight inches wide. The
were cut into veneers of eight to an inch. The wood,
of which we have seen a specimef, was peculiarly
beautiful, capable of receiving the highest polish;
and, when polished, reflecting the light in the most
varied manner, like the surface of a crystal ; and from
the wavy form of the fibres offering a different figure in
whatever direction it was viewed.’* The price, we are
told, is here erroneously stated at three thousand
pounds; it was about two thousand, averaging near]
five guineas per cubic foot! The figure of this woo
somewhat resembles the ripple or small waves of
water gently moved by the wind; and perhaps from
this circumstance it has obtained in the factory the
name of ‘ ocean-wood.’ |

An archway under the west central range leads us fo
the western court, which will terminate our tour of
the premises. The workshops on either side of this
court exhibit, in addition to some similar to those
before noticed, a ‘turner’s shop,’ where the legs for
pianofortes are turned; a ‘stringer’s shop,’ where the
strings are attached to some of the instruments; and
shops wherein are made a number of minute picces
of mechanism connected with the keys, such as ham-
mers, dampers, &c. This open court, too, like the
others, has its stores of timber ; and at one end of the
west central range is a series of about ten or a dozen
saw-pits, where the logs are cut into planks.

It would be no easy task, nor indeed would it be
necessary, to describe the arrangements of the various
departments of workshops. It may suffice to say that
they bear some resemblance to the shops of a cabinet-
maker, in relation to the materials and the tools em-
ployed. The work-benches, about three hundred in
number, are placed in general transversely, with one
end towards the windows; and on the side opposite to
the windows are the stoves and fire-places for warmin
glue, and other operations in which heat is required.
Overhead, in nearly all the shops, are piles of wood in
various stages of preparation for the use of the work-

* ‘Timber Trees,’ p. 175. aa

172 THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

nen, and undergoing the last process of seasoning by
the warm temperature of the shops. A better idea of
the nature of the several employments may perhaps be
gathered by tracing, in a cursury way, the progress of
_a pianoforte in its several stages of manufacture.
hatever form or value the pianoforte may have, it
consists of 4 case contajning stretched wires, which
wires are struck by soft hammers, attached to the hind-
most end of the finger-keys. This being the general
character of the instrument, the various subdivisions
are as follows. It was stated in a forme, paragraph
that the Aarpsichord was an improvement on previous
instruments, by having two strings to every note : this
improvement has been retained in the pianoforte,
together with the later one of having soft hammers
instead of quills, The “tinkling grandfather of the
ianoforte,’’ as the clavichord has been called, had but
ae or five octaves ; the harpsichord five or five and a
half; but the pianoforte has extended its range to six
and ahalf. These points being remembered, then, we
may state, Ist, that the square pianoforte has the strings
horizontal, in a rectangular case, with two strings to
each note, and a compass varying from 54 to 6}
octaves. 2nd. The cottage pianoforte has its strings
arranged vertically, reaching nearly fram the ground
to a short distance above the level of the keys: the
case is much shorter than in the ‘square ;’ there are two
strings to each note; and the compass is generally six
octaves. 3rd. The cubinet pianoforte is much higher
than any other, except the upright grand, a form not
now manufactured; the strings, two to cach note, are
ranged vertically, but, unlike those in the cotfage form,
are elevated wholly above the level of the keys: in
general the compass is six octaves, but the most finished
instruments have a compass of six andahalt. 4th.
The yrand pianoforte is longer than any other; it is
wider at one end than the other, and, unlike those
hitherto mentioned, has the keys at one end; the strings
are horizontal, and the chiet feature whereby the in-
strument is distinguished is, that there are three strings
to each note ; the compass is always six octaves and a
half, and there are thus upwards of two hundred and
twenty strings. 5th. The sem? grang pianotorte is,
as its name imports, a modification of the ‘grand ;’ it
has the strings horizontal ; its case somewhat resembles
that of the ‘grand,’ but it is shorter, has a compass of
only six octaves, and has but two strings to a note.
These are the five forms of pianoforte now made ; and
the manufacture of course involves certain modifjca-
tions tu suit the various forms. As a means of showing
the relative proportions in which these several forms
are manufactured. we find that out of the eighty or
ninety thousand pianofortes which have been made by
this firm, there have been, to every hundred ‘ squares,
twenty-eight ‘ grands,’ sixteen ‘cabinets,’ nine ‘cottage,’
and five ‘upright-grands’ and ‘semi-grands ;’ 80 that
the ‘squares ' constitute nearly two-thirds of the whole
number. .

The case, being a hollow box venecred on the out-
side, is made in a wanner nearly similar to cabinet-
work generally. Ih. the ‘square form it is an oblong
rectangle; 1n the ‘cabinet’ it is lofty ; and in the other
three tors it is modified in various ways. The must
scrupulous care is taken in the selection of wood, not
only in reference to its perfect dryness, but to the com-
bining of two or three sorts together, so that each
kind of wood may render its peculiar properties in aid
of the others. Nearly all the work-benches at the fac-
tory are provided with a simple but valuable arrange-
ment for pressing and keeping together the pieces of
glued woud while drying. Ata height of about four
feet above the bench is a horizontal board or. false
ceiling ; and the glued pieces being laid on the bench,
a number of elastic wooden rods are placed nearly

[ApRiL, 1842.

vertica] between the false ceiling and the bench; being
longer than the interval in which they are to be placed,
they can only be adjusted by a slight bending or con-
vexity in their length; and this bending gives them a
very ee pressure on the bench beneath or on
the glued picces placed on the bench. In some in-
stances we saw thirty or forty of these bent vertical
rods employed an one piece of wood. When the glue-
alg are dry, a slight blow or jerk will remove each
r

od.

Without attending to the technical names applied to
the various parts of a pennies we shall, perhaps, be
understood by general readers when we speak of the
Jrame-work of the instrument as distinct fram the
mere outer case. Jf we open 4 pianoforte, especially
a ‘grand, we shall see bars and rods and sirength-
eners of various kinds, placed in different directions,
not only with a view to give form and stability to the
instrument, but to resist the powerful strain to which
It 1g exposed by the tension of the strings. This ten-
sion is truly extragrdinary, and requires for its due
eppreasuon a little consideration of the phenomena
of a stretched string or wire. Let us suppose that a
wire 1s wound round two pegs or pins placed a yard
apart, and that it is merely brought into a straight
line without any attempt at stretching it. If struck
with a soft hammer, it will yield a iow suund, due
to a small number of vibrations per second; but if
we wish to elevate the pitch of the tone, we can do
so by increasing the tension or stiffness of the wire
A tuning-key aus placed on one of the pegs to which
the wire is attached, the peg can be turned round, and
a portion of the wire wound on it: this necessarily in-
creases the tension of the portion of wire extending
between the pegs; the increase of tension increases
the rapidity of vibration when the wire is struck, and
this increased rapidity gives a more elevated pitch to
the tone elicited. Now, in conformity with one of the
laws of force, the wire pulls with @ power equal to
that by which it has been stretched ; ag tends to regain
the state which it originally had, and by this tendency
exeyts a powerful dragging gr pulling force on the
Ins to which its two ends arg attached, and on the
irame-work wherein the pins are inserted. This force
is exerted by every wire, according to the tension given
to it; and the aggregate force js surprisingly great. It
18 calculated that the two iindred ang twenty-five
strings or wires of a grand pianoforte exert a strain
of more than twenty thousand pounds! This js in
fact the force tending to draw together the twa ends
of the frame-work to which the wires are attached.
It need hardly be observed, therefore, that the frame-
work must be made with great strength. The various
pieces of wagod arejn many places glued upso that the
grain of one component part shall extend in one direc-
tion, and that of the other at right angles to it; diflerent
kinds of wood are used jn different parts; an iron rod is
placed here, an iron plate there; and contrivances of
various kinds gre introduced to give most strength
where most strain will be experienced. The ‘actioq’
of a pianoforte (of which we shall presently speak) is,
perhaps, more rig sane in a ‘cabinet’ than in any
other form; but the mechanism connected with the
strings is far more complex in the ‘ grand.’

The mere attachment of each wire to pegs at its
two ends jp not sufficient for the adjustinent of its
tone. The whole length of wire is not allowed to
vibrate when struck, but only a given Jength of it
from one end to a pin inserted in a curved piece cf
wood. The adjustment of these vibrating lengths to
the different strings is a matter of great delicacy, and
may perhaps be rendered comprehensible by the few
following remarks. There are jbree modes of pro-
ducing an elevation of pitch jn a yibrating string-

SUPPLEMENT. |

Ist, by shortening the string; 2nd, by increasing its
thickness ; or 3rd, by increasing its tension. Now the
manufacturer does not adopt any one of these methods
of adjusting tones, to the exclusion of the others: he
avails himself of all. Twelye strings of the same
length and thickness might be so different ip tension
as to yield the twelve semitones of an octave; twelve
strings of the same thickness and tension might be of
such different lengths as to yield the twelye semitones ;
or, lastly, twelve strings of the same length and
tension might be made to produce these effects by
having the thicknesses different. But in practice the
tones produced hy either of these methods would be
very defective in character. Each degree of thick-
ness, of length, and of tension, produces its pwn pecu-
liar effects on the ‘ t2mbre,’ ar quality of tone. Jf two
strings of the same length and thickness were so
stretched as to produce tones differing by an octaye in
pitch, one would be strained nearly to breaking, and
the other would produce a dull. weak, and smothered
sound. If, while producing these twa notcs, the
strings differed only in length or in thicknegs, the
qualities of tone would not be so much at variance ag
in the case just supposed; but stil] the vequires
aquatic character of tone would nat be produced.
The plan adopted, therefore, is, to let the length, the
thickness, and the tension, all vary tagether.

This explanation will enable us to understand the
reason for the observed difference in the strings of the
pianoforte. We perceive that the strings for the
upper notes are not only shorter but alsa thinner than
those for the lower; and we should find, though it is
not perceptible to the eye, that the tension is likewise
different. The thickness, the length, and the tension,
all diminish (but not uniformly), from the lower to
the upper notes ; tension being here used ta express
the foree employed in stretching the string to the
required degree. In 9 grand pianoforte there are
fourteen diflerent thicknesses of wire ; the smaller, for
the upper notes, being plain polished steel-wire, and the
thicker, for the lower notes, being coated with @ very
fine coil of copper-wire.

In adjusting the strings there are certain rules as to
the thickness of wire selected for a certain note; and
the vibrating Jength of each string is regulated bya
curved piece of wood called a bridge, fixed to the
sounding-board of the instrument. To make and
adjust this bridge is one of the most delicate operations
of the ‘bellyman’ or ‘sounding-board maker.’ The
curve itself is regulated by a gauge to which the
maker works: so is the position which it is made to
occupy in the sounding-board ; and so likewise are
the order and arrangement of the pins inserted in it.
These pins are so placed that the strings rest against
them, each string being bent out of its rectilinear
course by coming in contact with a pin. A portion of
the string is thus effectively cut off, so far as regards
the vibration ; and the manufacturer is thus enabled, by
the adjustment of the pins in the sounding-board, to give
to the strings any vibraung length corresponding to
the tones to be produced. So complex and important
are these arrangements, that the strings of an improved
grand pianoforte require nearly one thousand iron
pins or pegs, each one inserted in a hole made with
great exactness to its dimensions. The workmen
called ‘stringers’ fix the proper strings to the proper
pins. The wire is sent from the wire-drawer in coils
about five or six inches in diameter, each coil con-
taining enough wire for several strings.

Hitherto we have said nothing of the mechanism by
which the strings are struck,—by far the most curious
part ofa pianoforte. This mechanism obtains the gene-
ral name of the ‘action ;’ and when we hear of ‘ square-
action,’ ‘ grand-action,’ &c., we must understand these

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

178

terms to allude tothe particular mode in which the per-
cussion is effected. It is perhaps scarcely tag sarich to
say that three-fourths of the improyements which the
ianoforte has undergone during the present century
ave had relation to the ‘action.’ All the great firms
for which the metropolis is distinguished in this
branch of manufacture have brought forward some
or other improvements in this respect; and their
united labours have raised the instrument to sucha
stage of perfectjon, that—like the chronometer—there
is litt!e mare tq be wished for, unless indeed it were
possible to obtain the sustained tones of the organ.
The most obvious part of the ‘action’ is the key-
board and its mechanism. Every ebony or ivory key
is a lever, which, when pressed eae at the foremost
end, rises at the hindmost, and this leverage is the
source of all the effects subsequently produced. A
little examination of these keys will show that the
ebony is solid, but that the ivory is merely a veneer or
scale put on a substratum of wood. The while keys
are made of carefully prepared lime-tree wood, which
is cut after the pieces of ivary are attached. The
annexed cyt shows the appearance of the key-board

[Key-cufter at wopk.]

while being cut up intokeys. The pieces of ivory are
shaped and preter by the ivory-worker to the exact
size for each key, and are glued side by side on the
surface of the wood. The wood is marked out bya
gauge, and is then cut up into parallel pieces for the
keys, by means of a slight frame-saw. A notch is
made in the stem or shaft of every white key to
receive the ebony key and its stem. When all the
keys are cut, a little pee of mechanism is placed in
one particular part of the length of each, to forma
fulcrum. _

To the hindmost part of each key is attached the
mechanism whereby it is made to act upon the string ;
and this mechanisin, to which the name of the ‘ action’
is more particularly applied, presents a complexity
of arrangement that will baffle everything like a

pular description. Simple as the ‘square’ piano-
orte is when compared with the other forms, yet the
following cut will show that the ‘action’ attached to
each key is anything but simple. This cut repre-
sents a ‘square treble-action,’ that is, such a portion
of the keys and connected mechanism as belong to
about an octave and a half of the ‘treble’ or upper
part of the instrument. This piece of mechanisin is
represented as viewed from behind, the most favourable

ition for displaying the intricacies of the ‘action.’

tis seen that there are a number of small pieces

laced at various angles, and acting upon one another
by various species of leverage.

174

LALA eee =

.\ \ \ \ ~

\\ AAAAAAANA ARRAYS
WANA LAY Wy
\\\\\ AY Wd
\ \s\h\ A \a&\e \ Pty LAVAS

ae = ae

(Treble-action of Square Piauoforte.}

But this ‘action’ dwindles into insignificance when
compared to that of a cabinet pianoforte in its most
improved fourm. We know of nothing, except the
mechanism of a watch, to rival the latter in intricate
combinations. One part of the mechanism attached
to each key is to cause the hammer to strike on the
string; another is to regulate the degree of strength
or softness with which the blow is struck; a third is
to A ppd the rebound of the hammer after the blow ;
and others are to produce modifications of effect so
minute that nothing but the most refined skill in
pianoforte playing could render them either appreci-
able or necessary : indeed the advance of the manufac-
ture, and the advance of the players in skill, recipro-
cally measure each other; for while on the one hand
the resources of the instrument were never thoroughly
known until a Liszt, a Thalberg, a Herz, or a Moscheles
developed them; so on the other hand these great
players would never have been able to produce the
Ba oa effects for which they are so celebrated,
unless the manufacturers had made important and
repeated advancements in the progress of the instru-
ment towards perfection.

__At the end of this article is given a wood-cut to
illustrate the general appearance which the ‘action’
of an improved cabinet pianoforte presents before the
silken covering 1s applied. Yet this ‘action,’ complex
as it appears, can give but a faint idea of the minute
details involved in the mechanism. Nearly the whole
of the long slender rods, the levers, &c., here seen
have nothing to do with the striking of the strings;
they relate merely to the production of some of those
delicate effects, those minute shades of tone, which are
not sought for in the average style of instruments.
The mechanism here seen forms the ‘front action;
and on this being removed, another series, still more
complex than this, is displayed; and on the removal
of this latter, which is the ‘action’ properly so called,
we see the strings themselves, the percussion of which
is the object of all this intricate assemblage.

We have thought that the matter now under consi-
deration could not be better illustrated, for general
readers, than by ascertaining the number of separate
pe concerned in this mechanism. This has been

indly done for us by one of the superintendents; and
we find that in one of Messrs. Broadwood’s most im-
pos six-and-a-half octave pianofurtes (for which, we

elieve,a patent has been taken out) the mechanism
connected with the ‘action’ consists of about three
thousand eight hundred separate pieces of ivory, ebony,
cedar, sycainore, lime-tree, mahogany, beef-wood, oak,
pine, stecl, iron, brass, lead, cloth, felt, leather, and
vellum. Every one of these has to be fashioned with
the most scrupulous exactness, and as scrupulously
acljusted to its place. Many of the pieces are not more

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

fApriz, 1842.

than a quarter of an inch square, some even less.
The qualities of all the varieties of wood are closely
studied, in order to determine their particular apti-
tude for the different parts, and it is thus that so many
as seven or eight kinds are used in the ‘action’ alone.
One kind is preferred because slender rods made of
it will not warp; another kind because the grain is
straight; a third because it is hard and smooth; a
fourth because it is soft and smooth; and so on. Some
of the rods are as much as three fect long and only a
sixth or seventh of an inch in thickness. To give the
technical terms applied to all these little pieces would
be of no use ; for after saying that the key acts on the
‘grasshopper, and the ‘ grasshopper’ on the ‘ under-
hammer,’ and the ‘under-hammer’ on the ‘sticker,’
and the ‘sticker’ on the ‘hammer,’ and the ‘hammer’
on the string, we have done but little towards explain-
ing the particular construction and action of each.

When we say that all these minute pieces are
fashioned and adjusted by hand, it will readily
conceived that an important part of the arrangements
of the factory has reference to them. One of the work-
shops is entirely occupied by the ‘key-makers,’ who
prepare the Jime-tree of which the body of the key is
made, glue on the pieces of ivory, cut the keys to their
required widths, arrange the little pin or fulcrum, &c.
Other workmen make the slender cylindrical rods of
pine or of pencil cedar. Some are forming the
‘hammers,’ others the ‘ under-hammers,’ the ‘ dampers,’
the ‘ -Mbcseera ad &c. An important and very
curious part of the labour is the adjustment of the
little pieces of vellum, cloth, felt, and leather, Vellum
is used for the hinges of some of the minute parts;
the two ends or edges of the vellum being glued into
slits in the two pieces which are to be hinged together ;
and it thus forms a hinge peculiarly delicate in its
action. The little pieces of cloth are used in various
ways for aporenth the rattling sound which pieces of
mechanism would be apt to produce, and which would
interfere with the tones of the instrument. Tosucha
degree of refinement is this carried, that small holes
not above a twelfth or fifteenth of an inch in diameter
are lined with cloth, in order to give a smoothness to
the motion of a wire which passes through the hole.
The felt and the leather are principally employed as
coverings for the hammers and dampers which come
in contact with the wires, and which are thus covered
to give mellowness to the tone. If astretched wire
be struck by a piece of wood or of metal, two sounds
are heard; one due tothe vibration of the wire itself,
and the other to the blow which the striking substance
gives: to get rid of this latter sound is the object of
leathering and felting the hammers. The felt used
for this purpose at Messrs. Broadwood’s, and which is
a beautifully soft white substance about a fourth or
fifth of an inch thick, is said to be made from wool
grown on Prince Esterhazy’s estate in Hungary, the
quality of this wool having been found admirably
adapted, from its softness, for this purpose.

In speaking of the strings for the various forms of
pianoforte we stated that the ‘grand’ has three strings
to each note; and that each of the other four forms
has two. The adjustment of all these strings is an
important matter, and devolves upon the ‘ regulators’
and ‘tuners.’ It will of course be understood that in
such a case the two or three strings belonging to one
note must be tuned in unison ; and to effect this the
strings are, as may be supposed, of equal lengths and
thicknesses. The object then is to bring them to an
equal degree of tension, by which the tones may be of
the same pitch. The pcrsons employed at this avoca-
tion are such as are able, from accuracy of ear, to
determine musical intervals with much preewion. In
our concluding cut the ‘cabinct’ pianoforte is repre.

SuPPLEMENT. }

sented as undergoing the process of tuning. We may
here remark that the ‘ regulation’ involves something
more than the determination of the musical intervals
between the several tones: it relates also to the easy
and proper action of the keys, and the general fitness
of all the parts for the office which they are to serve.

A portion of pianoforte mechanism to which we
have not yet alluded is that connected with the pedals,
resembling all the other portions in the high degree
of care necessary in the manufacture. These pedals
serve two totally distinct offices, one of which relates
to all kinds of pianofortes, and the other to those only
which are provided with three strings to every note.
The first govern the ‘dampers,’ and their use may be
thus explained. In order that the harmonies in a
piece of music may produce their due effect, it is ne-
cessary that the preceding notes should not continue
to sound long after the keys have been struck, else
discord may usurp the place of harmony. For in-
stance, if the note c were sounded, and the next note
of the piece of music were p, the continued sounding
of the c after the p has been struck would give the
discordant interval of a 2nd, which the ear cannot
tolerate, except as a foil to more perfect intervals.
Hence mechanism is provided, whereby a soft hammer
or ‘damper’ is made to fall on the vibrating string
directly the finger is removed from the key, and this
dam ping smothers the note by stopping the vibrations.
As, however, it is desirable in some pieces of music to
have the full effect of the vibrating strings after the
fingers are removed from the keys, the player is en-
abled, by pressing his foot ona pedal, to remove all the
‘dampers’ from the strings, with which they do not
again come in contact until the pedal is released. In
some of the older square pianofortes this adjustment
is made by means of a handle situated near the left
hand of the player; but we believe that in all the
modern instruments a pedal affords the requisite
leverage. The other kind of pedal, used only in grand
pianofortes, is employed for the pyrpose of removing
one out of every three strings from the action of the
hammers. If three strings were struck by every
hammer every time that the key belonging to that
hammer is played upon, the player could not obtain
the piano passages which add so much to the grace
and effect of music. There is, therefore, a provision
for lessening the quantity of sound—for such is in
reality the operation—by lessening the number of
strings struck by cach hammer. This is effected by
shifting the entire key-board to a small distance from
its usual position, whereby each hammer clears one of
the three strings, and only strikes the other two. The
foot-pedal effects this shifting by intermediate levers,
and the player has thus the whole arrangement within
his power.

Among the minor operations in the manufacture is
the preparation of fret-work or open-cut boards for the
front of some kinds of pianofortes. This is effected in
a very quick and elegant way. The device being
marked on the board with chalk, the board is fixed
vertically in a kind of vice, and, as represented in the
annexed cut, is sawn by means of an extremely fine
and thin saw, which follows all the turnings and
windings of the cnalk-marks, penetrating to every
angle, however acute, and severing the small pieces,
the absence of which constitutes the pattern. The
other ornamental features we must dismiss without
any particular notice, as involving no principle but that
which distinguishes common cabinet-work. We may,
however, notice that the turned legs for the better
kinds of instruments are produced by a beautiful lathe,
the action of which is of a highly scientific order. An
hexagonal or octagonal pattern is produced in a cir-
cular leg, by allowing the leg to remain stationary,

THE PENNY

MAGAZINE.

(Fret-cutter at work.]

and making the cutting tool revolve rapidly at such
distance from it as to cut away one-sixth or one-eighth
of the surface. The cutting tool has at the same time
a motion backward and forward in the direction of the
length of the leg. The principle of action very much
resembles that of the wbcel-ontiae engine described
in our last supplement.

When the various component parts of the pianofortes
are put together, the tones regulated to something like
accuracy, the exterior adorned with polishing, carved
ornaments, &c., and all rendered near! complete, they
are conveyed to another establishment belonging to the
same firm in the neighbourhood of Golden Square.
Before we follow them to this last depository, we will
mention a circumstance which attick: us during the
visit to the factory at the Horseferry Road, and which
is worthy of notice ; we mean the precautions taken to.
prevent fire. Wherever large quantities of dry wood
are used, such precautions are highly necessary ; but.
we seldom remember to have seen them carried out on
such a complete system. In many parts of the factory
brick party-walls are carried from front to back, and.
across the opening which connects one department with.
another is a sliding iron door, carefully closed every
night; so that the connection is entirely cut off from
one to another. For the use of the workmen who have-
to melt glue, &c., there are about fifty large German:
stoves: these are each entirely surrounded by a high
iron fender, which rests on stone or brick-work, sepa--.
rated by sheet-lead from the wooden floor beneath; so:
that the heat from the stove is most effectually cut off
from the floor beneath, and, being close stoves, no
sparks can fly about. For the process of vencering,.
and others wherein an open fire is required, large fire--
places, about thirty in number, are provided: these
are surrounded by and based on brick; and in the
front of each is a heavy sliding iron door, working ver--
tically in grooves and balanced by weights. The door
can be lowered in an instant, whereby the fire is not only
completely shut out from communication with the shop;
but, being deprived of draught, must necessarily de-
cline. Each fire-place is for the use of a certain num-
ber of men, all of whoin take by turns the office of see~
ing that a bucket of water stands by the side of the
fire-place, and of closing the iron door ou leaving work.
The superintending foreman visits all parts of the fac-
tory every evening after the men have left, and if any
one of the sliding doors is seen open, the man whose

176

turn it was toattend to it is subjéeted toa fine. If,
notwithstanding these precautions, 4 fire should break
out, a fire-engine, a coil of leathern pipe, a plug con-
nected with the water-main, and other thechanism of a
similar kind, are at hand, and can be bftught to bear
upon any part of the factory ata few ttintites’ notice.
—These are arrangements which we should be glad to
see adopted in every well-ordered fattory.

The music-vans which bear the name of “ Broad-
wood” are employed not only to convey planofortes to
the houses of the purchasers, but to convéy them in
the first instance from the factory in the Horseferry
Road to Great aarti Street, Goldeh Square, where
is the original establishment belonging t6 the firm.
Before the great extension in the use of the pianoforte,
the operations of the firm were wholly carried on in
Pulteney Street and in a range of buildings ene
from thence to Golden Square; but now, althoug
there are here upwards of a hundred and fifty persons
employed, the pianofortes are principally a at the
factory which we have just left. The stock of instru-
ments required to be kept on hand is so extremely
large, that a wide rangé of trate-room is necessary.
Almost every room in two large houses in Pulteney
Street and one in Golden ee is occupied either in
this way, or else by tuners who are giving the final re-
gulation to the tones of the instruments: this adjust-
ment cannot be effected in a large room where many
ate similarly employed, on account of the confusion of
sgund whith would result; and there are therefore
seldom more than two tuners in one room. Some of
the apartments are store-rooms for ‘grand’ piano-
fortes, some for ‘cabinet,’ some fot ‘cottage,’ some
for ‘semi-grand,’ some fot ‘square ;’ others are for
second-hand instruments; a large range of worksho
ig principally occupied by workmen engaged in

THE PENNY MAGAZINE

' [Apriz, 1842.

‘grands,’ the internal mechanism of which is pre-
pared here; others are repairing and adjusting stuck
ianofortes, many hundreds of which are kept ready
or hire. On the ground-floor are ranges of counting-
houses and offices, for the cashier, clerks, collectors,
&¢c., belonging to the establishment; in one of which
we hoticed a portrait, by Hogarth, of the original pro-
ce of the establishment, a picture which has pro-
ably occupied its present place fot more than a
century.

The pianoforte manufacture is one in which nothing
but highly-skilled manual dexterity can make and
adjust the nttmerous pieces of mechanism involved in
it; and those workmen who possess this skill are
not likely to be supplanted by any automatic machi-
nery. ence it happens that the same workmen are
seen year after year, Occupying their old benches,
using their old tools; coming to work and leaving
work at the old hours, and seeming as if the old sho
belonged to them and they to the shop. We noticed,
not only that many of the workmen in the factory
are elderly men whohave occupied their present situa-
tions twenty, thirty, or forty years, but that a kindly
feeling prevailed among all, illustrative of mutual
confidence between the employers and the employed.
The patriarch of the sstablishinenit is a venerable ci-
devant foreman, not far from ninety years of age, who
has seen out two or three generations of workmen, and
whose connection with the establishment dates back
through a period of nearly sixty years. That such
a man is respected by the firm, and deemed almost part
and parcel of it, need hardly be said.

In conclusion we have to thank the proprietors, and
the heads of the several departments, for their obliging
communications in reference to the subject of the
present article.

[The ‘Action’ or futerual Mech wism of a Cabinet Pianoforte.)

- May 7, 1842.]

FROISSART AND HUIS CHRONICLE.
No. III.

THE SIEGE OF CALAIS.

Onty five days after the battle of Cressy, the people
of Calais beheld the conqueror before their town, and
a siege commenced, almost unexampled for its severity
and the length of time it continued. The place might
be considered as impregnable to direct assault, and the
defenders were prepared to resist to the last. Edward,
therefore, determined to surround the city so com-
pletely, that neither ingress nor egress should take
place, and leave the rest to time and famine. His
fleet blocked the harbour, and stopped approach that
way; whilst on the land he formed vast intrenchments.
For the accommodation of his soldiers he built an im-
mense number of wooden huts or houses, which the
French called the ‘city of wood.’ The brave governor
of Calais, John de Vienne, understood clearly the
purpose of all this, and immediately took such pre-
cautions as he deemed necessary. The nature of one
of his precautions gives us a fearful illustration of the
calamities of war. Seventeen hundred poor persons of
the town, “ useless mouths,’ as they were called, were
driven out towards the English lines. Edward was
then in one of his better moods ; he gave them all a good
dinner, twopence in money each, and then dismissed
them to take their several ways into the interior. A
second experiment of the same kind was thought to be
toomuch. Provisions having become exceedingly scarce,

No, 648,

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

177

anew survey of the place was made, when five hundied
more unfortunates were determined to be “ useless
mouths,” and dismissed as before. It is dreadful to
reflect upon their fate. They were driven back at the
sword’s point by the English soldiers, and as John de
Vienne would not re-admit them, they are said to have
all perished in the sight of their own townsmen.
Strenuous exertions were made from time to time to
relieve the place from the sea, and a few vessels
did get in by stealth, but afterwards ingenuity and
strength became alike unavailable. The garrison
then wrote to their king, Philip, to say they had eaten
their horses, their dogs, and all the unclean animals
they could find, and nothing remained but to eat each
other. The letter fell into the hands of the English,
and gave them a new motive for watchfulness, if any
were needed, as it now became evident Calaig must

Vou. XI.—2 A

178

yield soon, or be relieved. Philip, however, knew the
condition of the place, and resolved to make one

reat effort in its favour. The Oriflamme, the sacred

anner of the kingdom, that banner which was never
to be used but on extraordinary occasions, was un-
furled, and the vassals of the crown were summoned
from every part to its support. In July, 1347, or
eleven months after the commencement of the siege,
the failing hearts of the garrison were inspired with
new energies by the sight of the goodly array, in the
distance, of their sovereign army. How were they to
be disappointed! Philip, finding both the roads to
the town so strongly guarded that he could only force
his way by a very bold and costly atttack, adopted an
amusing expedient. He sent four of his principal
lords to the English king, to complain that he was
there to do battle, but could find no way to come to him,
and _ therefore requested a meeting of council to
advise a place. The nature of the answer may be
readily imagined. And what did Philip then for the
brave soldiers and citizens who had done everything
for him ?—turned round and re-traced the road he had
come. All the sufferings the defenders of Calais had
experienced must have been light compared to the
bitterness of their fcelings as they saw the gradual
disappearance of the army which had come expressly
for Air relief, yet failed even to strike a single blow.
Such is the position of affairs at the moment Froissart
commences the relation of an incident which has
inade the siege of Calais a memorable event thoughout
the civilised world, and shed a lustre over it which
appcars only the more permanently brilliant in con-
trast with the factitious glare of mere military glory by
which it was surrounded.

“After that the French king was thus departed
from Sangate, they within Calais saw well how their
succour failed them, for the which they were in great
sorrow. Then they desired so much their captain, Sir
John of Vienne, that he went to the walls of the town,
and made a sign to speak with some person of the
host. When the king heard thereof, he sent thither
Sir Walter of Manny and Sir Basset; then Sir John
of Vienne said to them, ‘Sirs, ye be right valiant
knights in deeds of arms, and ye know well how the
king iny master hath sent me and others to this town,
and commanded us to keep it to his behoof, in such
wise that we take no blame, nor to hin no da-
mage ; and we have done all that lieth in our power.
Now our succours hath failed us, and we be so sore
strained, that we have not to live withall, but that we
must all die, or else enrage for famine, without the
noble and gentle king of yours will take mercy on us,
aud to let us go and depart as we be, and let him take
the town and castle and all the goods that be therein,
the which is great abundance.’ Then Sir Walter of
Manny said, ‘Sir, we know somewhat of the inten-
tion of the king our master, for he hath shewed it
unto us; surely know we for truth it is not his mind
that ye nor they within the town should depart so, for
it is his will that ye all should put yourselves into his
pure will to ransom all such pleaseth him, and to put
to death such as he list; for they of Calais hath done
him such contraries and despites, and hath caused him
to dispend so mucli goods and lost many of his inen, that
he is sure grieved against them.’ Then the captain
said, ‘Sir, this is tou hard a matter to us; we are here
Within, a small sort (company) of knights and squires,
who have truly served the king our master, as well as
ye serve yours in like case, and we have endured
much pain and unease; but we shall yct endure as
much pain as ever knights did, rather than to consent
that the worst lad in the town should have any more

evil than the greatest of us all; therefore, sir, we pray | to have mercy on them, that they die not.’

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

(May 7,

speak to the king of England, and desire him to have
pity of us, for we trust in him so much gentleness,
that by the grace of God, his purpose shall change.*
Sir Walter of Manny and Sir Basset, returned to the
king, and declared to him all that had been said. The
king said he would none otherwise, but that they
should yield them up simply to his pleasure. Then
Sir Walter said, ‘Sir, saving your displeasure in this,
ye may be in the wrong, for ye shall give by this an
evil exainple: if ye send any of us your servants into
any fortress, we will not be very glad to go if ye put
any of them in the town to death after they be yielded,
for in likewise they will deal with us if the case fell
like;’ the which words divers other lords that were
there present sustained and maintained. Then the
king said, ‘ Sirs, I will not be alone against you all;
therefore, Sir Walter of Manny, ye shall go and say to
the captain, that all the grace that he shall find now in
me is, that they let six of the chief burgesses of the
town come out bare-headed, bare-footed, and bare-
legged, and in their shirts, with halters about their
necks, with the keys of the town and castle in their
hands, and let them six yield themselves purely to my
will, and the residue I will take to mercy.’ Then Sir
Walter returned, and found Sir John of Vienne still on
the wall, abiding of an answer; then Sir Walter
showed him all the grace that he could get of the
king, ‘Well,’ quoth Sir John, ‘Sir, I require you
tarry here a certain space till I go into the town and
show this to the commons of the town, who sent me
thither.’ Then Sir John went into the market-place
and sounded the common bell; then incontinent men
and women assembled there. Then the captain made
report of all that he had done, and said, ‘Sirs, it will
be none otherwise, therefore take advice and makea
short answer.’ Then all the people began to weep
and make such sorrow, that dhere was not so hard a
heart, if they had seen them, but that would have had
great pity of them : the captain himself wept piteously.
At last the most rich burgess of all the town, called
Eustace de St. Pierre, rose up and said openly, ‘Sirs,
great and small, great mischief it should be to suffer
to die such people as be in this town, either by famine
or otherwise, when there isa mean to save them. I
think he or they should have great merit of our Lord
God that might keep them from such mischief. As
for my part, I have so good trust in our Lord God,
that if Idie in the quarrel tosave the residue, that God
would pardon me; wherefore, to save them, I will be
the first to put my life in jeopardy.” When he had
thus said, every man worshipped him, and divers
kneeled down at his feet with sore weeping and sore
sighs. Then another honest burgess rose and said, ‘I
will keep company with my gossip Eustace ;’ he was
called Jehan D’Aire. Then rose up Jaques de Wisant,
who was rich in goods and heritage ; he said also that
he would hold company with his two cousins in like-
wise ; sodid Peter of Wisant, his brother; and then rose
two other; they said they would do the same. Then
they went and apparelled them as the king desired.
Then the captain went with them to the gate; there
was great lamentation made of men, women, and
children, at their departing. Then the gaic was
opened, and he issued out with the six burgesses, and
closed the gate again ; so they were between the gate
and the barriers. Then he said to Sir Walter of
Manny, ‘Sir, I deliver here to you as captain of
Calais, by the whole conscut of all the people of the
town, these six burgesses, and I swear to you truly,
that they be, and were to-day, most honourable, nich,
and most notable burgesses of all the town of Calais;
wherefore, gentle knight, I require you pray the king
Quoth Sir

you that of your humility, yet that ye will go and | Walter, ‘I cannotsay what the king will do, butI shall

1842.]

do for them the best I can.’ Then the barriers were
opened, the burgesses went towards the king, and the
captain entered again into the town. When Sir
Walter presented these burgesses to the king, the
knecled down, and held up their hands and said,
‘Gentle king, behold here we six, who were burgesses
of Calais and great merchants ; we have brought the
keys of the town and of the castle, and we submit
ourselves clearly into your will and pleasure, to save
the residuc of the people of Calais who have suffered
great pain. Sir, we beseech your grace to have
mercy and pity on us through your high nobles.’
Then all the earls and barons and other that were
there wept for pity. The king looked felly (savagely
or vindictively) on them, for greatly he hated the
people of Calais for the great damage and displeasures
they had done him on the sea before. Then-he com-
manded their heads to be stricken off. Then every
man required the king for mer but he would hear
no manin that behalf. Then Sir Walter of Manny said,
‘Ah, noble king, for Ged’s sake refrain your courage ;
ye have the name of sovereign noblesse ; therefore, now
do not a thing that should blemish your renown,
nor to give cause to some to speak of you villainously ;
be man will say it is a great cruelty to put to
death such honest persons, who by their own wills
put themselves into your grace to save their company.’
Then the king wryed away from him and commanded
to send for the hangman, and said, ‘ They of Calais
had caused many of my men to be slaine, wherefore
these shall die in likewise.’ Then the queen, being
great with child, kneeled down, and sore weeping,
sald, ‘Ah, gentle sir, sith I passed the sea in great
ite I have desired nothing of you; therefore, now

humbly require you, in the honour of the son of the
Virgin Mary, and for the love of me, that ye will take
mercy of these six burgesses.” The king beheld the
queen, and stvod still in a-study a space, and then
said, ‘ Ah, dame, I would ye had becn as now in some
other place; ye make such request to me that I cannot
deny you, wherefore I give them to you to do your
pleasure with them.’ Then the queen caused them
to be brought into her chamber, and made the halters
to be taken from their necks, and caused them to be
new clothed, and gave them their dinner at their
leisure, and then she gave cach of them six nobles,
and made them to be brought out of the host in safe-
guard, and set at their liberty.” On such a story,
so simply and exquisitely narrated, cominent would
be worse than superfluous.

BREAKWATERS.
Il. PLYMOUTH.—III. THE FLOATING BREAKWATER.

“ The billows slee
Within the shelter of a wondrous pile

Of Man’s vast workmanship—that new-made isle,

That marble isle—brought piecemeal from the shore,

To break the weltering waves, and check their savage roar.”

THe Plymouth Breakwater, the barrier alluded to in
the above lines, is remarkable for the high degree of
success which has attended it, and for the closeness
with which the outlay has approximated to the esti-
mated expense, a very rare merit in enginecring
operations. The projectors of this vast undertaking
had the advantage of the experience afforded by the
comparative failure of the French project and from
this experience they greatly profited.

Plymouth Sound, unlike Portsmouth Harbour, is
very much exposed to the sea. These great naval
arsenals require, not only a dockyard for building

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179

ships, and a harbour where ships may lie up in ordi-
nary in safety, but also a sound or capacious expanse
of water, wherein ships may assemble before and after
a foreign cxpedition. Portsmouth possesses all these
three in its dockyard, its harbour, and Spithead ; but
Plymouth, until late years, although it had a dockyard
and the exccllent haven of Hamoaze, had not a safe
pee of rendezvous analogous to Spithead. Plymouth
ound, a fine expanse of water, has two openings
northward, one into the Hamoaze, and the other into
the Catwater ; and the ships in these two, as well as in
the Sound itself, were formerly so much incommoded
by the ne swell which almost constantly rolled in,
especially when the wind blew fresh from the south-
west, that it was found necessary to make some sort of
barrier. Mr. Rennie, the engineer, and Mr. Whidby,
the master-attendant at Woolwich dockyard, were eent
down to Plymouth in the year 1806, to devise the best
means of effecting this object. Several plans were
offered to the notice of Government ; one of which was
based on the method of building a pier, attached to the
mainland at one end and to an insulated rock at the
other. But certain considerations relative to the
effects which this mode of construction might have on
the flux and refiux of the tide, or the deposition ot
mud, and of blocking up one out of the only two good
channels by which ships could enter the Sound, led to
the abandonment of this plan. The plan proposed b
Messrs. Rennie and Whidby, and ultimately adopted,
was to procure an immense quantity of large stones,
and throw them into the Sound, until a barrier or dyke
a mile in length should be raised above the surface of
the water, and stretching across the Sound so as to
leave entrances at both ends. Parliament voted the
required sums, and operations commenced six years
after the survey of the Sound.

The measures required for the prosecution of thi
undertaking had relation to the purchasing of the stone,
the quarrying and conveyance to the sea-shore, the
transfer to the spot where the breakwater was to be
formed, and the deposition in the sea. In the first
place the satis in the neighbourhood of Plymouth
were searched with a view of finding a kind of stone
which should be durable, plentiful, and not too costly.
It was found that some limestone hills near the Cat-
water were capable of affording twenty millions ot
tons of stone, very much more than would be required,
and that the stone could be easily conveyed to the
shores of the Plym, which flows into the Catwater.
This quarry was purchased of the Duke of Bedford for
10,0007. Quays were then constructed for loading the
ships with stone ; iron railways were laid down from
the quarry to the quays; and machinery was erected
for expediting all the processes.

The vessels employed for conveying the stones from
the quays to the site of the breakwater were of pecu-
liar construction: they had two openings at the stern,
each capable of receiving a truck Jaden with a
stone weighing four or five tons; and from these
openings iron railways were laid along the vessel. A
truck with its load was wheeled down from the quarry
to the quay, thence across the quay to the opening in
vessel, and thence to the hold, which was capable of
containing sixteen such trunks, laden with eight
tons of stone. The vessel, with stones, trucks, and all,
then procecded to the breakwater; each truck was
wheeled to the opening in its turn, overset by a piece
of machinery at the end of the vessel, and the stones
precipitated into the sea. A cargo of eighty tons of
stone was thus discharged in less than an hour.

The first stone was dug from the quarry on
August 7, 1812, and deposited in the sca a few days
afterwards. The number and inass of the stones
required to be deposited in this way may be conceived

2A 2

180 THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

by attending to the proposed size of the breakwater.
It is a straight line one thousand yards in Jength, with
flanks or returns inclining inwards at each end toa
distance of three hundred and fifty yards each, thus
making the whole length very little short of a mile.
In order that the stoncs should not roll or fall over
to make the slopes of the
sides very great. It is thirty feet wide at top when
carried ten feet above low-water mark, and of such
width at the bottom, that the outer slope should be
three feet horizontal to one foot perpendicular. The
quantity of stone has been estimated at nearly forty

each other, 1¢ was necessa

million cubic feet.

In March, 1813, one portion of the breakwater made
its appearance above low-water mark. About fifty
vessels were employed in carrying out the stones ; by
which, in the year 1812, were deposited about 16,000
tons of stone; in 1813, 71,000; in 1814, 240,000; in
1815, 264,000 ; in 1816, 300,000. The greater part of
the stones were under one ton cach; most of the
others varied from one to five tons; and a few ex-
Every ton of stone cost,

uarrying, ls. 10d. for
transport, and 3s. 7d. for all other expenses attendant
on the undertaking. Baron Dupin was in England at

ceeded the latter amount.
on an average, 2s. 5d. for

the time when these operations were in busy progress,
and speaks enthusiastically of the impression made on
his mind by what hesaw. He speaks of “the order,
regularity, and activity which reign throughout all

the operations; the embarking and disembarking of

the materials; the working and placing of the enor-

mous blocks which form the upper part of the break-

water; the difficulties conquered by the dexterity and
Ingenuity of the workmen ; the transport of the blocks,
and, above all, their extraction from the quarries.
When we visit the workshops of the artificers and the
Operations of the quarry-men,” he continues, “it is
admirable to observe man, so weak and so feeble,
manage at his will the enormous masscs he has de-
tached from their beds, in order to precipitate them
into the ocean, to form other hills. e roads formed
in the air for the transport of the useless carth and
broken fragments; the lincs of cranes and their com-
bined labour; the movements of the carriages; the
arrival, the loading, and the departure of the vessels—
present to the eye of an admirer of great works and
of the mechanical arts, one of the most pleasing and
aa eat spectacles it is possible to contemplate.”
arious minor changes were made from time to
time in the original plan; and down to our own day erec-
tions of some kind or other have been carrying on in
connection either with the breakwater or with arrange-
ments at its extremities for victualling and watering
ships. Mr. Stuart of Plymouth made the following
communication last autuinn to the British Association,
in relation to a rumour concerning the breakwater :—
“In consequence of a comimunication made in July,
1838, to the naval authorities at this port, to the effect
that a deposit was then going on in the Sound, the
Admiralty directed Mr. James Walker to report fully
on the subject, and the best means for providing
against the apprehended injury to the anchorage. After
a long and laborious investigation, and a minute
survey, during which no less than two thousand sound-
ings were taken, Mr. Walker reported that, taking
the mean of the soundings that could be affected by
the breakwater, the result was that there was but
very little increase or decrease, and that if there was
any increase in the Sound (except close to the break-
water, and which could produce no practical evil)
it was only small, certainly not enough to cause alarm,
or to justify expensive measures for removing the
cause.
Floating Breakwater.—A proposed barrier under

[May 7,

this name, which is now obtaining a portion of the
public attention, we mention, not with a view to offer
any opinion as to its merits, but to give some degree
of completeness to our sketch of breakwaters gene-
rally.

Acoiit three or four years ago Captain Tayler took
out a patent for the contrivance here alluded to, the

ractical application of which has, we believe, since

een undertaken by a joint-stock company. The
breakwater consists of a floating frame-work, or
caisson of timber, moored and shackled, and is ex-
pected to act in the following manner :—that by yield-
ing to the violence of the sea, and at the same time b
admitting the water to pass under, over, and through
it, it will divide and break the waves, thereby reducing
them to a harmless state. Captain Tayler, in the spe-
cification of his patent, describes a floating caisson or
breakwater composed entirely of red-pine timber, so
arranged that three-fourths cf the timber will be under
water and the other fourth above. The altitude is
twenty-four feet, the width also twenty-four feet, and
the length may be varied at pleasure. He likewise

ives a representation of another form of arrangement
or a different state of the sea or harbour.

The caissons may be of any number, according to
the dimensions of the harbour to be protected, and
each caisson is kept in its place by a mooring-chain or
rod. This chain is a curious part of the arrangement,
for it consists of a succession of wooden rods, about
twelve feet long and nine inches wide, shackled toge-
ther by the links of a common mooring-chain. These
wooden rods are not intended to extend the whole dis-
tance from the caisson to the ground, but to occupy
the middle portion, having a piece of common chain at
each end ; and the motive for using them at all is to
avoid the great weight and expense of iron chains
strong enough to retain the caissons against the action
of a roughsea. The rods are formed and bound in
such a manner as to increase the natural longitudinal
strength of the wood.

In practice it is proposed to place these caissons
end to end, or to dispose them in a semicircular form,
according to the nature of the harbour where they are
to be used.

Unpopular Improvements.—There is not one single source of
human happiness against which there have not been uttered the
most lugubrious predictions. Turnpike roads, navigable canals,
inoculation, hops, tobacco, reformation, and revolution. There
are always aset of worthy and motlerately gifted men who bawl
out death and ruin upon every valuable change which the vary-
ing aspect of human affairs absolutely and imperiously requires,
It would be extremely useful to nake a collection of the hatred
and abuse that all those changes have experienced, which are now
admitted to be marked improvements in our condition. Such
a history might make folly a little more modest, and suspicious
of its own decisions.—Sydney Smith.

Right of Property in Wind.—Water-mills were at one time,
particularly on the Continent, included among the regalia or
rights of the crown; and on the introduction of windmills, this
assumed right was extended over air as well as water. A
whimsical mstance of the attempted exercise of this privilege
is on record. It scems that the Augustine monks belonging to
the monastery at Weindsheim, in the province of Overyssel,
were desirous of erecting a Windmill in the neighbourhood ; but
the lord of the soil opposed their project, on the extraordinary
assumption that the wind in that district belonged to him.
Upon this the monks applied to the Bishop of Utrecht, who
decided, in a towering passion, that no one had power over the
wind in his diocese but Aimaclf. And thereupon he immediately
granted letters-patent to the good mouks.—Guide to Trade—
The Miller.

1842,]

‘By. 7
— : a =
= Sa aT s
ees =
Ss he, . PO

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181

Sans

[View from the Garden of Strawberry Hill.]

STRAWBERRY HILL.
’ [Abridged from ‘ London.’)

THERE never was a place so associated with the me-
mory of one manas Strawberry Hill is with Horace
Walpole. There is nothing to confuse us in the recollec-
tion. We are not embarrassed with the various branches
of the genealogical tree. Horace the first or Horace
the second, Horace the great or Horace the little, do
not jostle in our memories. Imagination has no great
room to play ; with a catalogue in hand, and a porter
watching that no trinkets are stolen, and a mob of people
about us, who “admire a lobster or a cabbage in a mar-
ket-picce, dispute whether the last room was green or
pores: and then hurry to the inn for fear the fish should
overdressed.”* Even as the author of ‘The Castle
of Otranto’ saw the portrait all in white of Lord Deputy
Falkland walk out of its frame in the great wallet
at Strawberry Hill, so if Mr. Robins had permitted us
to wander about the house in the cold twilight, we
should most assuredly have seen a dapper little gentle-
man in embroidered velvet, who would have told us
something new worth communicating to our readers.
As it is, we must be content without any revelations
from Strawberry Hill. The world ought to be content:
it possesses some three thousand closely-printed pages
of private history, gossiped over and committed to
pepe in great part within those walls. Strawberry
[ill has a wonderful resemblance to ‘The House of
Tidings’ of Chaucer ; and that house
“Ne half so quaintly was ywrought.”
Like each other—
“‘ Al’ + was the timber of no strength,
Yet it is founded to endure.”

But the uses of the poenen and prosaic ‘ House of
Tidings’ were identical.
| “ And by day in every tide
Be all the doorés open wide,

* Horace Walpole to Montagu, March 23, 174]
+ Al’ —although.

And by night each one is unshiut ;
Ne porter is there none to let

No manner tidings in to pace,*
Ne never rest is in that place,
That it n’ is filled full of tidings,
Kither loud or of whisperings,
And ever all the house's angles -
Is full of rownings ¢ and of jangles,
Of wars, of e, of marriages,
Of rests, of labours, of viages,

Of abode, of deathé, and of life,
Of love, of hate, accord, of strife,
Of loss, of lore, and of winnings,
Of heal, of sickness, or leasings, }
Of fair weather and tempestés,
Of qualm, of folk, and of beastés,
Of divers transmutations,

Of estatés and of regions,

Of trust, of drede,§ of jealousy,
Of wit, of winning, of folly,

Of plenty and of great famine,
Of cheap, of dearth, and of ruin,
Of good or of misgovernment,
Of fire and divers accident.”

Chaucer’s house was for all time; but it has left very
few minute records: Strawberry Hill has reference to
a fraction of existence ; but for half a century it can
boast of the most delightful historiographer of the
London world of fashion—a noisy, busy, glittering
world at all periods, but in Walpole’s pages something
more amusing than the respectable monotony of the
same world in our better days of prudence and de-
corum.
The letters of Horace Walpole cannot at all be re-
ded as a picture of society in general. He has no
‘stinct notion whatever of the habits of the middle
classes. Society with him ‘is divided into two great
sections—the aristocracy and the mob. He was made

+ Rownings—wutterings.

* Pace—pass.
a § Drede—doubt.

$ Leasings—lyings,

182

by his times, and this is one of the remarkable features
of his times. With all his sympathy for literature, he
has a decided hatred for authors that are out of the
pale of fashion. Fielding, Johnson, Sterne, Goldsmith,
the greatest names of his day, are with him ridiculous
and contemptible. Hecannot be regarded, therefore, as
a representative of the literary classes of his times. As
the son of a great minister he was petted and flattered
till his father fell from his power ; he says himself he
had then enough of flattery. When he mixed among
his equals in the political intrigues of the time, he dis-
played no talent for business or oratory. Tis feeble
constitution compelled him to seek amusement, instead
of dissipation ; and his great amusement was to look
upon the follies of his associates and to laugh at them.
He was not at bottom an illnatured -nan, or one with-
out feeling. He affected that insensibility which is the
exclusive privilege of high life—and long may it con-
tinue so. When Lord Mountford shot himself, and
another Lord rejoiced that his friend’s death would
allow him to hire the best cook in England, the selfish
indifference was probably more affected than real. Wal-

le himself takes off his own mask on one occasion.
When he heard of Gray's death, in writing to Chute
he apologises for the concern he feols, and adds, “I
thought that what I had seen of the world had hardened
my heart; but I find that it had formed my language,
not extinguished my tenderness.” When he speaks
of individuals, we may occasionally think the world had
formed his language; he is too often spiteful and
malicious: but when he describes a class, he is not
likely much to exaggerate. The esprit de corps would
render him somewhat charitable: if he did not “ ex-
tenuate,” he would not set down “in malice,” when he
was holding up a mirror of himself and of the very
people with whom he was corresponding.

The year 1741 presents to usa curious spectacle of
the aristocracy and the people at issue, and almost in
mortal conflict, not upon the question of corn or taxes,
but whether the Italian school of music should prevail
or the Anglo-German. - The Opera is to be on the
French system of dancers, scenes, and dresses. The
directors have already laid out great sums. They talk
of a mob to silence the operas, as they did the French
players; but it will be more difficult, for here half the
young noblemen in town are engaged, and they will
not be so easily persuaded to humour the taste of the
mobility: in short, they have already retained several
eminent lawyers from the Bear Garden to plead their
defence.”* The fight had been going on for nearly
twenty years. Everybody knows Swift's epigram

“ On the Feuds about Handel and Bononcini.

“ Strange. all this difference should be
*Twixt Tweedle-Dum and Tweedlc-Dee.”
Walpole naturally belongs to the party of his “ order.”
Handel had produced his great work, the ‘ Messiah,’ in
1741, at Covent Garden. Fashion was against him,
though he was supported by the court, the mob, and the
poet of common-sense. He went to Ireland; and the
triumph of the Italian faction was thus immortalized
by Pope :-—
“Lo! giant Handel stands,

Like bold Briareus, with a hundred hands ;

To stir, to rouse, to shake the soul he comes,

And Jove’s own thunders follow Mars's drums.

Arrest him, empress, or you sleep no morc—
She heard, and drove him to th’ Hibernian shore.”’ +

Handel came back to London in 1742, and the tide
then turned in his favour. Horace Walpole shows us
how fashion tried to sneer him down: he is himself
the oracle of the divinity. ‘ Handel has set up an

* Horace Walpole to Mann, Oct. 8, 1741,
+ * Dunciad,' book iv.

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

[May 7,.

oratorio against tne operas, and succeeds. He has
hired all the goddesses from farces, and the singers of
Roast Beef from between the acts at both theatres,
with a man with one note in his voice, and a girl with-
out ever a one; and so they sing, and make brave
hallelujahs; and the good company encore the recita-
tive, if it happens to have any cadence like what they
call a tune.” * The Italian Opera-House in the Hay-
market itself went out of fashion in a few years, and
the nobility had their favourite house in Lincoln’s Inn
Fields. What the Court then patronised the aristo-
cracy rejected. ‘The late royalties went to the Hay-
market, when it was the fashion to frequent the other
opera in Lincoln’s Inn Fields. Lord Chesterfield one
night came into the latter, and was asked if he had been
at the other house? ‘Yes,’ said he, ‘but there was
nobody but the king and queen ; and as I thought they
might be talking business, I came away.’ "+ However,
amidst all these feuds the Italian Opera became firmly
established in London; and through that interchange
of taste which fortunately neither the prejudices of
exclusiveness nor ignorance can long prevent, the
people began gradually to appreciate the Opera, and
the nobility became enthusiastic admirers of the
Oratorio.

In the days of Walpole the Theatre was fashionable ;
and in their love of theatrical amusements the nobilit
did not affect to be exclusive. Jn not liking Garrick
when he first came out, Walpole and his friend Gray
indulged probably in the fastidiousness of individual
taste, instead of representing the opinions of the
fashionable or literary classes. Gray writes, “ Did I
tell you about Mr. Garrick, that the town are horn-
mad after? There are a dozen dukes of a night at
Goodman's Fields sometimes; and yet I am stiff in the
opposition.” Walpole, in May, 1742, six months after
Garrick’s first appearance, says, “ All the run is now
after Garrick, a wine-merchant, who is turned player,
at Goodman's Ficlds. He plays all parts, and is a very
good mimic. His acting I have seen, and may say to
you, who will not tell it again here, I see nothing
wonderful in it; but it is heresy to say so; the Duke
of Argyle says he is supcrior to aegnere From
some cause or other. Walpole hated and vilified Gar-
rick all his life. His pride was perhaps wounded
when he was compelled to jostle against the actor in
the best society. Inthe instance of Garrick, Pope's
strong sense was again opposed to Walpole’s super-
refinement. The great poet of mavners said to Lord
Orrery, on witnessing Garrick’s Richard III., “ That
young man never had his equal as an actor, and will
never have a rival.”

The participation of people of fashion in theatrical
rows is a sufficient evidence of the interest which they
took inthe theatre. They carried the matter still farther
in 1751, by hiring Drury Lane to act a play themselves.
“The rage was so great to sce this performance, that
the House of Commons Itterally adjourned at three
o'clock on purpose.’’§

We might believe, from the well-known lines of
Pope, that the amusement which was invented for the
solace of a nad king was the exclusive inheritance of
an aged aristocracy :

“See how the world its veterans rewards,
A youth of folly, an old age of cards.”’

Not so. The cards were a part of the folly of youth as
well as of age. Walpole never appcars to have had
the passion of a gambler; but we learn from his fifty
years’ correspondence that he was always well content

* Horace Walpole to Mann, Feb. 24, 1743.

+ Horace Walpole to Conway, Sept. 25, 1761.
{ Horace Walpole to Mann.

§ Horace Walpole to Maun.

, 1812.]

to dabble with cards and dice, and he records his
winnings with a very evident satisfaction. The reign
of ombre, whose chances and intyigues interested the
great quite as much as the accidents and plots of the
reign of Anne, was supplanted by the new peer of
whist; and then whtst yielded to the more gambling
excitement of loo; to which faro succeeded; and the
very cards themselves were at last almost kicked out by
the ivory cubes, which disposed of fortunes by a more
summary process. In 1/42 whist was the mania,
though Walpole voted it dull: “Whist has spread a
universal opium over the whole nation.” Again:
“The kingdom of the Dull iscome upon earth. ....
The only token of this new kingdom is a woman riding
on a beast, which is the mother of abominations, and
the name on the forehead is Whist; and the four-and-
twenty elders, and the woman, and the whole town,
do nothing but play with this beast.”* Whist had a
long reign. In 1749 Walpole writes: “As I passed
over the green [Richmond], I saw Lord Bath, Lord
Lonsdale, and half-a-dozen more of the White's club,
sauntering at the door of a house which they have
taken there, and come to every Saturday and Sunday
to play at whist. You will naturally ask why they
can’t play at whist in London on these days as well as
on the other five. Indeed I can’t tell you, except that
it is so established a fashion to go out of town at the
end of the week, that people do go, though it be only
into another town.”+ Ministers of state, and princes
who had something to do, were ready to relieve the
cares of business by gambling, as much as other people
gamed to vary their idleness. Lord Sandwich “ goes
once or twice a-week to hunt with the Duke [Cumber-
land]; and as the latter has taken a turn of gaming,
Sandwich, to make his court—and fortune—carries a
box and dice in his pocket ; and so they throw a main,
whenever the hounds are at fault, ‘upon every green
hill and under every green tree." Five years later,
at a magnificent ball and supper at Bedford House,
the Duke “ was playing at hazard with a great heap of
gold before him: somebody said he looked like the
prodigal son and the fatted calf, both.’’§

There was deep ara a in a saying of George
Selwyn’s, when a waiter at Arthur’s Club-House was
taken up for robbery : “ What a horrid idea he will
give of us to the people in Newgate!’’ It may be
doubted whether the gentlemen-highwaymen who
peopled Newgate at that era had a much looser code
of morals than some of the great folks they pillaged.
The people of London got frightened about an earth-
quake in 1750, and again in 1756. There was a slight
shock in the first of those years, which set the haunters
of White’s furiously betting whether it was an earth-
Dias or the blowing up of the powder-mills at

ounslow. Bishop Sherlock and Bishop Secker en-
deavoured to frighten the people into piety; but the
visitors at Bedford House, who had supped and stayed
late, went about the town knocking at doors, and
bawling in the watchman’s note, “ Past four o’clock
and a dreadful earthquake.” Some of the fashionable
set got frightened, however, and went out of town;
and three days before the exact day on which the great
earthquake was prophesied to seg He there was a
crowd of ccaches passing Hyde Park Corner with
whole parties removing into the country. “Several
women have made earthquake gowns—that is, warm
gowns to sit out of doors all to-night. These are of
the more courageous. One woman, still more heroic,
is come to town on purpose ; she says all her friends
are in London, and she will not survive them. But

* Horace Walpole to Mann.

+ Horace Walpole to Mann, June, 4, 1749.

{ Horace Walpole to Mann, January 31, 1750,
§ Horace Walpole to Bentley, 1755,

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

183

what will you think of Lady Catherine Pelham, Lady
Frances Arundel, and Lord and Lady Galway, who go
this evening to an inn ten miles out of town, where
they are to play at brag till five in the morning, and
then come back—I suppose to look for the bones of
their husbands and families under the rubbish ?’*
When the rulers of the nation on such an occasion, or
any other occasion of public terror, took a fit of hypo-
crisy and ordered a gencral fast, the gambling-houses
used to be filled with senators who had a day of leisure
upon their hands. Indifference to public opinion, as
well asa real insensibility, drew ate between the
people of fashion and the middle classes.

The love of sights, the great characteristic of the
vulgar of our own day, was emphatically the passion
of the great in the last century. The plague was re-
ported to be in a house in the City; and fashion went
to look at the outside of the house in which the plague
was enshrined. Lady Milton and Lady Temple ona
night in March put on hats and cloaks, and, sallying
out by themselves to see Lord Macclesfield lie in state,
“ literally waited on the steps of the house in the thick
of the mob, while one posse was admitted and let out
again for a second to enter.”+ The “mob” (by which
Walpole usually means an assemblage of people of any
station below the aristocracy) paid back this curiosity
with interest.

In those days the great patron of executions was the
fashionable George Selwyn; and this was the way he
talked of such diversions :—“ Some women were scold-
ing him for going to see the execution i Lord Lovat],
and asked him, * how he could be such a barbarian to
sec the head cut off?’ ‘ Nay,’ says he, ‘if that was such
a crime, I am sure I have made amends, for I went to
see it sewed on again.’”} When M‘Lean, the high-
wayman, was under sentence of death in Newgate, he
Was a great attraction to the fashionable world. ‘Lord
Mountford, at the head of half White's, went the first
day. . . . . But the chief personages who have been
to comfort and weep over this fallen hero are Lady
Caroline Petersham and Miss Ashe.”§$ These were
the heroines of the minced chickens at Vauxhall; and
we presuine they did not visit the condemned cell to
metamorphose the thief into a saint, as is the ‘ whim’ of
our own times. The real robbers were as fashionable
in 1750 as their trumpery histories’ were in 1840.
“You can’t conceive the ridiculous rage there is of
going to Newgate ; and the prints that are published
of the malefactors, and the memoirs of their lives and
deaths set forth with as much parade as—as—Marshal
Turenne’s—we have no generals worth making a
parallel.” || The visitors had abundant opportunities
for the display of their sympathy :—* It is shocking to
think what a shambles this country is grown! Seven-
teen were executed this morning.” Amidst such
excitements, who can wonder that a man of talent and
taste, as Walpole was, should often prefer pasting
a into a portfolio, or correcting proofs at ‘‘ poor

ittle Strawberry ?”

Of the house itself there is little to be said. Its
chief importance arises from its being the first attempt
to revive Gothic architecture in domestic buildings ;
but it is one a collection of parts imitated from
divers originals, built in portions during an interval
of twenty-three years, from 1753 to 1776. The ceiling
of the china-room is painted in imitation of one in the
little Borghese Villa at Frescati; while in the little
parlour the chimney is taken from the tomb of Thomas

* Horace Walpole to Mann, April 2, 1750.
Horace Walpole to Lord Hertford, March 27, 1764,
t Horace Walpole to Conway, April 16, 1747.
§ Horace Walpole to Mann, August 2, 1750.
\| Horace Walpole to Mann, October 18, 1750.
q Horace Walpole to Mann, March 23, 1752.

184 THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

Ruthall, Bishop of Durham, in Westminster Abbey ;
and in the library “the books are arranged within
Gothic arches of pierced work, taken from a side door-
case to the choir in Dugdale’s St. Paul’s. The doors
themselves were designed by Mr. Chute. The chimney-
piece is imitated from the tomb of John of Eltham,

uke of Cornwall, in Westminster Abbey; the stone-
work from that of Thomas, Duke of Clarence, at Can-
terbury.”* The collection partakes of the same mixed
character. With some truly valuable pictures and
rarities of great value, there ate a vast variety of
merely knick-knacks—“ two mustard-pots and plates

* Walpole’s own Catalogue.

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of Sévres china—an old blue and white plate with a rib
in the middle.”* Collecting of old china was then a pas-
sion, and the whole assemblage forms a curious example
of the influence of the age upon the taste of the indi-
vidual. After a slumber of many years, this collection,

reserved by the provisions of his will, is about to be

ispersed, and the fame of Walpole will rest upon the
surer foundation of his epistolary excellence, when the
battlements and towers of Strawberry Hill are levelled
with the dust, and the remembrance of his indefatiga-
ble labours in erecting so fragile a monument to him-
self will only excite a smile.

* Walpole’s own Catalogue.

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[Interior of the Library, Strawberry Hill ]

Food of Birds.—Those birds which we denominate as rapaci-
ous, such as falcons, hawks, owls, live upon animal food which
they capture, kill, and devour; abstaining, unless stimulated
by necessity, from creatures they may find dead. Then come
the pies: of these, the raven and crow likewise eat animal food,
but it is generally such as has been killed by violence or ceased
to exist, only in cases of want killing for themselves. The rook,
the daw, the magpie, consume worms, grubs, and are not ad-
dicted, except from hunger, to eating other animal matters. The
two first feed at times in society; the latter associates with
neither, but feeds in places remote from such as are frequented
by them. The jay too eats grubs and such things, but seeks
them out under hedges, in coverts and places which others of his
kind abandon to him. The cuckoo seems principally to live
upon the eggs of birds, with a few insects and fers occasionally ;
the wryneck upon emmets, from heaps under hedges near con-
cealment—the pine” signs upon insects found upon trees; and
when they seek for the emmet, they prefer the ant-heaps of com-
mons and open places ;—the halcyon upon small fishes :—thus
all these creatures, even wlien they require similar aliment, diet
at their separate boards. Of the Gallinaceous birds, the wood-
grouse is cml aig by the young shoots of the pine in his forests ;
but the-black and red grouse live upon berries found on the
moor, the seeds and tops of the heath; the partridge upon seeds
in the field, blades of grass or of corn; the pheasant upon mast,
acorns, berries from the hedge or the brake. The bustard is
content to live upon worms alone, found in early morning upon
downs and wide-extended plains, where none dispute his right
or compete with him, but one species of plover. The doves
make their principal meals in open fields, upon green herbage
and seeds. The stare again feeds upon worms and insects, but
in places remote from the bustard, nor does he contend with the
rook or the daw, but takes his meat and is away. The Passarine
birds, indeed, are remarkably dissimilar in their manner of feed-
ing. The missel-thrush will have berries from the misseltoe, or
seeks for insects and slugs in wild and open places, the heath or
the down. The song-thrush makes his meal from the snail on
the bank, or worm from the paddock ; but the blackbird, though
associating with him, leaves the suails, contenting himself with

worms from the hedge-side, or berries from the briar or the bush.
The fieldfare consumes worms in the mead or haws from the
hedge. The cross-bill will have seeds from the apple, or cone of
the fir—the greenfinch, seeds from the uplands, or door of barn,
ot rickyard. The bunting is peculiarly gifted with a bony knob
in the roof of his bill, upon which he breaks down the hard seeds
he is destined to feed upon. The bullfinch selects buds from
trees and bushes. The goldfinch is nurtured by thistle-seeds, or
those of other syngenesious plants. Sparrows feed promiscuously.
Linnets shell out seeds from the cherlock, or the rape, or the
furze on the common. One lark will feed in the corn-field,
another in the mead, another in the woodlands—one titmouse
ae insects frequenting the alder and willow; some upon those
which are hidden under mosses, and lichens on large trees; a
third upon coleopterous creatures, secreted in the hedge-row and
the coppice. The grey wagtail finds food with us all the year ;
but the yellow one must seek it in other regions. The nightin-
gale diets upon a peculiar grub, and when that is not found in
the state he prefers, he departs. The domestic swallow feeds
round our houses, or in the meadow; but the bank swallow
never comes near us, chases his food beneath the crag, and along
the stream. The swift prefers the higher ranges of the air, diet-
ing upon the flies that mount into those regions. The goatsucker
does not notice the creatures of the day, capturing the moths
and dors of the night. The wheatear feeds only 9 such
insects as he finds upon fallow lands, the down or the heath.
And thus almost every individual might be characterized by
some propensity of appetite, by some mode or ae of feeding ;
and hence individuals are found as tenants of the homestead,
the wild, the stream, the air, rock, down, and grove—in every
place finding plenty, and fulfilling their destination without
rivalry or contention : nor perhaps is there any race of creatures
that associates more innocently, or their lives more free
from bickering and strife, than these our land-birds do, persever-
ing, from period to period, with undeviating habits and propen-
sities, manifesting an original appointment and fixed design of
Providence, whose bounteous able, wherever we look around, is
spread for all, and good things meted out to each by justice,
weight, and measure.—Journal of a Naturalist.

[May 7, ,

1842.]

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THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

185

—

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Co eo © -

ee ss bead

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\ mm

[Common White Willow—Sake Alba. Winter Aspect—From a Specimen in Vanbrugh Fields, near Charlton, Kent.,

THE WILLOW.

Ir a person who has never been in the habit of bestow-
ing more than a passing and general glance at trees
were to set about classifying the willow genus, he would,
from the casual recolleetion of things which meet the
eye and are not accurately observed, probably not get
much beyond three subdivisions. He has seen the
common willow on the banks of river or canal, with
its rough bark and pollarded top, its leaves ruffled by
the breeze and turning up their white under-surface ;
and in little garths by the river side, where the soil
is moist, but not saturated, or on small river islands, he
has noticed the long wand-like shoots of the osier ; and
the beauty of the weeping willow, drooping gracefully
over the margin of river, artificial lake, or basin into
which a fountain pours its waters, or waving its delicate
and pensile branches over the lawn has certainly
attracted his admiration. Here then are three distinct
varieties, the common willow for timber, the osier for
basket-work, and the weeping willow for ornament ;

No 549,

to which may be added that which produces the well-
known yellow blossoms called ‘ s, and in some
parts of the country ‘ goslings,’ and which appear very
early in the spring. These blossoms are gathered on
Palm Sunday, in commemoration of Christ's entry into
Jerusalem. The bright yellow hues of the golden
willow may also perhaps have been noticed as another
species ; making five varieties altogether. The incuri-
ous observer of trees, when he is told that there are
above two hundred varieties of willow growing in
England, will regard them with more interest, and
rhaps derive some gratification in learning the dif-
erences which exist in‘a family connected by affinities
and external features with which every one 1s familiar.
A satisfactory botanical arrangement of the willow
genus has not even yet been completely effected,
though more pain has been bestowed on it than on any
other genera. The willow grows naturally in places
where moisture exists, and dues not thrive ina dry soil,
unless its roots are within reach of water. It therefore
is not adapted for a wide range of situations ; and when

008te XI.—2 B

Digitized by \%

186 THE PENNY MAGAZINE

removed from those best suited to its nature, corre-
sponding changes take place in its appearance and
habits. It does not blossom until summer, instead of in
early spring ; or the contrary effect may be produced if
it has been removed from the mountains to the warmth
of the plains. But making allowance for effects pro-
duced by such causes, the number of species growing in
spots where their natural characteristics are freely de-
veloped exceeds two hundred, as already stated. At
Woburn Abbey, the seat of the Duke of Bedford, there
is a Salictum, in which all the known spccies of willows
are cultivated, and which was formed for the express

surpose of enabling the botanist to study the genus.
n 1829 the late Duke printed, for private circulation,

a work entitled ‘Salictum Woburnense, in which one

hundred and sixty willows are figured and described.

Similar works have been published both in this country
and on the Continent, and the difficulties which botanists
formerly experienced in all that related to the genus
have gradually been diminished, though they are not
entirely conquered. Linnzus, when he directed his
attention to this subject, was of opinion that it was
necessary to begin afresh, and that a new description of
the several species of willow was onc of the first desi-
derata; and, according to Mr. Loudon, he recom-

mended that the characteristics of each varicty should
pounce be taken from the development of the

uds, the situation of the catkins, the form and other
circumstances of the leaves, the number of stamens,

and the general form, whether a trce, ashrub, or a

creeper. Mr. Crowe, after caer tas study of the
willows of Great Britain, classified them into three
sections, distinguished by the following characteristics :
—margins and surfaccs of the leaves either serrated
and smooth; entire and smooth; or, lastly, with
a shaggy, woolly, or silky surface. These distinc-
tions do not sufficiently define the various specics, at
least in the estimation of many botanists. Mr. Loudon
has arranged the two hundred species and upwards
described in the ‘ Arboretum’ into twenty-five groups ;
in some of which the flowers, and in others the leaves,
constitute the characteristic feature. Koch,a German
botanist, 1s allowed to have studicd the willow genus
more profoundly and philosophically than any other

naturalist. In his ‘Commentary’ the number of

species is given as two hundred and fifty-four, of which
only seventeen are of extra-European origin, all the
rest being indigenous to our own Continent. Reject-
ing the system of grouping either by the leaves or
flowers, by which species are associated which are in
fact found to be separated by nature and habit, he relies
principally on the situation and insertion of the catkins,
and he objects to a classification determined by the
leaves and flowers, on account of their being subject to
various influences which alter their appearance. The
difficulty of arriving at conclusions perfectly satisfac-
tory in every case exists in the very nature of the genus,
so much so that it has been supposed to present an
exception to the ordinary laws of vegetable develop-
ment. It is important that these anomalies should not
be lost sight of, and they are thus pointed out in the
article ‘Salix,’ in the ‘ Penny i a tem Male
and female flowers accruing in the same catkin;
2. Stamens eryereney changed into pistils; 3. Stamens
accompanied by an imperfect pistil; 4. Entire union
of the filaments of the stamen.” Koch, in alluding
to the difficulties of the subject, remarks that “the
great number of hybrids, the existence of which in the
genus Salix no one can doubt, is another obstacle. No
one (he says) will accuse me of arrogance in assuming
to know Salix rubra and Salix viminalis ; and yet, on
the banks of the Rednitz, near Erlangen, there are
many thousand trees of these two species, and at the
saine time many intermediate forms which I can refer

[May 14,

to neither species. The catkins of these afford no dis-
tinguishing marks; for what seem at one time to
belong to the former species, appear more clearly
allied to the latter.’ Thus a whole life of observation
may be devoted to a single genus of trees, in which
Nature displays a versatility that refuses to be confined
by the scientific systems of the naturalist. Some of the

oints we have here been regarding, which appear to

e interesting only to the botanist, are in reality of
practicalimportance. For cxample, the female willow,
which is usually the most vigorous plant, should be
grown in plantations where timber or coppice-wood,
hoops or rods for coarse basket-work, are required ;
but the male plant should be selected when, for other
purposes in hich the. willow is used, toughness and
delicacy are requisite.

The common white willow (Salix alba), often called
the Huntingdon willow, is more extensively planted
as a timber-trec than any othcr, and next is the Russell
or Bedford willow (Salix Russelliana), so called after
the late Duke of Bedford, who brought it more gene-
rally into notice, and both grow rapidly, attaining a
height of seventy and even eighty fect, though about
sixty fect is their common hcight. Dr. Johnson's
willow at Lichfield, which was blown down in 1829,
was of the latter species. The weeping willow (Salix
Babylonica) is a native of the banks of the Euphrates,
and is found eastward as far as China, where, as in
this country, it is a favourite ornamental tree. It is
said to have been first planted in England by Pope,
who, being with Lady Suffolk when she received a
present from Spain bound with withes, which appeared
to be living, he stuck one in the ground at Twicken-
ham, and it afterwards became so well known as the
poct’s willow. This species is the one alluded to by
the weeping daughters of Zion, who, during the Cap-
tivity, are represented in the Psalms as hanging their
harps upon the willows by the river of Babylon. The
common osier (Salix viiminalis) is the species most
commonly cultivated in this country for basket-work.
The sallows are modcrate-sized trees or shrubs, the
most important specics being the Salix caprea, or goat
Willow, which bears the yellow blossoms called palms,
and possesses many valuable qualities. Bees are par-
ticularly fond of this blossom, which is a grateful
resource to them after their hybernation, when flowers
have scarcely darcd to make their appearance. The
yellow willow (Salix vitellina) is another common
species, so called from the golden hue of its bark.

The willow has been used for basket-work from the
earliest ages. The Britons were skilful basket-makers
at the period of the Roman invasion. For hampers
and baskets, the rodsare made use of both with and
without the bark ; in the latter case, after being washed
in clean water, the baskets are placed in a close room
and subjected to the vapour of sulphur, which renders
the colour delicately white. The rods are split into
thin lengths for work-baskets and other light articles.
Hats may be made from willow shavings. Hoops for
barrels are made by slicing the rods in two equal

arts; and the cooper finds even the bark of use.
The small twigs need not be thrown away, as the
gardener finds them useful in tying up plants. Cattle
thrive upon the leaves. Willow is in demand for
all articles where lightness is essential, as in shatts for
hay-rakes and other implements of manual labour.
It is said to have the propcrty of whetting knives ;
and though soft, it docs not split. Charcoal made
from willow readily ignites, and is, therefore, pre-
ferable to any other for gunpowdcr, and is esteemed
by artists for crayons. The bark has tanning and
dyeing properties; and an extract prepared from it,
called salicine, is only inferior to quinine for its
medicinal virtues. As the willow is so casily pro-

1842.}

pagated, it is ag wigs with much advantage in
strengthening the banks of canals and rivers, no
digging being necessary, as in planting other aquatic
trees with this object. Live fences of willow are
of very speedy growth, and the willow stakes in a
hedge often take root when they were not used with
a view to their growth. The Thames and the Cam
yield the largest supply of willows for all the various
useful purposes which render the tree an object of
profitable cultivation. In the low moist lands of
Cambridgeshire and Huntingdonshire there are large
willow-plantations. Before the last war, willow for
baskets was frequently imported from Holland.

The willow is the emblem of deserted love, and as
such it is alluded to by many of our old poets.
Spenser calls it—

‘“¢ The willow, worn by forlorn paramour.”

A TAME SQUIRREL.

(Fram a Correspondent. }

In the middle of May the children of a farmer took
a young squirrel from the nest, at an age when it had
begun to eat a little, though it was still nursed by its
mother. Its captors placed it under the care of a cat
who had then one kitten, all the rest of her litter
having been drowned. The cat nursed the little
squirrel along with her own offspring for about a
week, at the end of which time it (the squirrel) was
purchased by a gentleman's family, and imincdiately
transferred to another cat, in a similar predicament
with the other, except that she had two surviving
kittens instead of one. Both cats treated their foster-
child with equal kindness, though the first was natu-
rally a fierce, ill-tempered creature, and the second
was equally remarkable for a swcetness and gentleness
of disposition quite uncommon in her race.*

The young squirrel remained under the care of its
new nurse for another week, and lived on terms of
perfect friendship with her kittens as well as herself.
Although she constantly nursed him, he readily ate
biscuits, potatoes, and sugar moistened with water:
this last was always his favourite food. He also drank,
even at this time, great quantities of water, a practice
which he always continued. He was as tame as possi-
ble, eat out of the hand, and allowed himself to be
fondled as much as was consistent with his restless
nature. When removed from the cat, he was kept for
a short time in a large cage which had been occupied
by doves ; but being very unhappy in confinement, he
was soon set at liberty, without much hope of secing
him again. But though he was rejoiced at finding
himself amongst the trees, and immediately began
to frolic in the branches of a laurel, he seemed to think
of nothing less than withdrawing himself from the
society of his human companions, and showed no
marks of timidity or shyness. He came down from
the tree the same evening, and ate a piece of biscuit
from the hand of his owner, one of the children of the

* This cat was herself by no means unworthy of notice. The
constant and unwearied attachment she showed to both her master
and mistresa, especially to the latter, though she had not received
any particular notice from her, were extraordinary, Whenever
the lady came into the kitchen, Fair (such was her name) in-
variably by the most engaging caresses endeavoured unremit-
tingly to attract a little attention, and was quite transported if
she succeeded, She would follow them round the garden and
in their walks like a dog, even if she received no notice ; and the
strength of the affection she displayed, utterly free from the
usual caprices of cats, was a daily cause of wonder. When
hurt by any individual, instead of growling, as her species com-

monly do, she fawned on the offender with increased fondness of '

manner. She was never known to scratch or express anger,
exce;t against a dog on behalf of her kittens.

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

‘possible affection.

187

family, and became from that time more familiar and
amusing than ever. But before his behaviour in
human society is described, some notice must be taken
of the conclusion of his intercourse with the family of
his foster-nurse. After he had becn several days
separated froin her, and kept in the cage, he was intro-
duced to thein again. Heseemed quite in ecstasies of joy
at mecting his old playfellows again: they too showed
great pleasure at seeing him, and the squirrel and two
kittens tumbled about and played together with all

The old cat then making her
appearance, Puss (as the squirrel was called) ran up
to her in delight, and, sitting upon his hind legs, licked
her mouth, while she affectionately licked him all over:
finally he climbed upon her back, and sat on her head.
He was shown to them once or twice after this, and
always behaved to them in the game manner. But
when they saw him abouta fortnight or three weeks
after their first separation, though he was quite amica-
bly disposed, the kittens, who were lying in the sun
quietly with their mother, flew at him and attempted
to kill him. He did not at first show the least alarm,
evidently not understanding their hostile intention ;
but when he was attacked by both, he was terrified, and
made his escape. What is remarkable is, that all this
tine the old cat seemed still to recognise her foster
child, and remained very quiet, without making the
least attempt to hurt him. This was the last time the
squirrel and cats saw each other.

Puss, though now fully at liberty, and able to feed
himself out of doors, continued to frequent the house,
and came several times a day to be fed and to havea
game of play with the various members of the family.
He was a most amusing little pet, full of fun and
frolic, like all squirrels, and tame to a degree which
could not be surpassed. He delighted in being present
at meals, when he would jump upon the table, run
round it, and either receive food from the hand, or
select whatever suited his fancy, particularly bread
and butter and potatoes. It was observed that he
always chose the largest from amongst the articles of
food before him: he would run round the table when
spread for dinner, and make away with the largest
piece of bread; at dinner he would snatch the largest
potato out of the dish, and at breakfast runaway with
the largest pat of butter. When he had satisfied him-
self, he carried off whatever he could to a place of
concealment, which however was not always well
chosen : for instance, he would attempt to hide nuts
and bits of bread and butter on the person of the
young ladies of the family, attempting to scratch up
the dress around them; or in the neckcloth or dress-
ing-gown of the gentlemen. He frequently buried
the nuts in the ground, or in the cavities in the trunks
of trees, and would return to them, grub them up, and
eat them, after an interval of days or wecks, This
propensity for hiding his food he manifested from
the very first.

On one occasion it seemed as if the squirrel had
imbibed something of the carnivorous nature of his
foster parent. He discovered in the shrubbery a
chaffinch’s nest, from which he stole the young ones,
one by one, and killed two of them, of which he partly
devoured one, growling when an attempt was made
to take it away from him. On his third visit to the
nest, he fell in with his old playmates the kittens, who
had been attracted to the spot by the scent of ‘blood ;
whereupon he immediately abandoned his murderous
occupation, and in great delight began a game of play
with them ; for they too preferred amusing themselves
with him, to pursuing their natural prey. ;

He always came when called by his name ‘ Puss,
and though he often bit in play (and pretty sharply
too), he never took that means of ga enn anger,

188

which he showed only by a growl. When impatient
for food, he made a little grunting noise. He loved
to climb tp the persons of all the inmates of the house,
which he did with the greatest agility. Though he did
not seem to bestow affection on one more than another,
or to distinguish individuals as such, yet he distin-
guished dresses, and would notice the same person
much more in one dress than another. The footman,
for instance, when in his livery, he always delighted
to clamber over; but when out of livery, he paid no
attention to him. He never showed any fear of stran-
gers, nor of any kind of animal.

Puss continued the pet and favourite of the whole
house for three months. In August the family left
that part of the country, and the squirrel was left
behind, on account of the difficulty of removing him.
He was familiar and amusing up to the last, even after
he had been caught and confined two or three times
With the view (afterwards abandoned) of taking him
away. On the departure of his owners, a gentleman
in the neighbourhood kindly took charge of the little
animal, and removed him to his own residence. Here
he remained very contentedly, taking up his abode in
the garden; he did not, however, display the same
familiarity as formerly, and though every kindness
was shown him, and he was tempted with his favourite
kinds of food, he could not be induced to enter the
house in the presence of its inmates, though he would
make his way into the drawing-room when they were
not there, and eat the bread and butter they had put
for him. Once, too, he ran up the arm of one of the
ladies as she was walking in the garden, and accom-
panied her to the house to be fed. Having received
a piece of potato, he retired. The wild squirrels
have taken no notice of him, and at this moment he is
still alive and happy in the state of liberty.

Slavery in Russia.—Some of Count Chérémétieff's serfs are
nferchants, and very wealthy. The riches of a serf are generally
obtained by procuring his master’s permission to leave his estate,
and follow some trade in a town where he can, without inter-
ruption, turn a small capital and his natural shrewdness to
account. ‘This boon is well paid for if he is successful. In
the country, in cases where the Jandlord’s cupidity does not in-
terfere with the provisions made by the law for the serf’s benefit,
they sometimes accumulate large sums: for they spend but little
spon themselves, and an increase of wealth does rot make that
alteration in their habits which might be erpected. The custom is
to allow the serf three days of the week to cultivate the portion
of land assigned to him by his master, for whom he works
the other three; and tn this case, also, he sometimes reaches
a state of comparative affluence. . Many of Count
Chérémétieff's serfs could of course, if permitted, purchase
their freedom; but this nobleman has no idea of allowing them
to take advantage of their own industry: on the contrary, it is
a subject of self-gratulation with many to possess rich serfs, and
it is afirmed that Chcérémétieff is so proud of his, that no sum
would tempt him to give them their liberty—a worthy descend-
ant, truly, of his ancestor in the days of Catherine! With this
man there is no plea of necessity, but it gratifics his vanity, for
it has an effect when he invites foreigners to his country-scat.
On these occasions the Count is received by one of his rich serfs,
in a mean hut, built in the usual style of a Russian log-house,
and fitted up with the rudest furniture; the table is covered
with the coarsest linen, and a black Joaf, with some salt, and a
wooden bowl! of borsch, are placed upon it. The party merely
taste this humble refreshment, when the door leading to another
house at the back is opened, and the noble proprietor and
his friends are then ushered into an apartment handsomely
furnished: the table here is loaded with plate, glass, fruit,
and a profusion of viands, in the arrangement of which little
taste is ye ; and champagne, quass, and votka are served,
one as freely as the other, The guests leave the house astonished
by such an entertainment given by a Russian serf, fancying
perhaps that, under the circumstances, the man is as well

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

[May 14,

pleased to be a slave as free: and, in some cases, they are likely
to be right. In all probability the serf who has thus feasted
his master and his friends can scarcely read, knows nothing of
figures, counts with beads, and has a beard of enormous length:
he makes, however, large sums of money, fur he is shrewd, cun-
ning, and saving. His moments of extravagance are when, as in
this case, he receives his lord, or at one of his own children’s

weddings.—Jesse's Notes of a Half-pay in Search of Health.

Traveling on the American Pratries.—Having taken leave of
our friends in the boat (on the Upper Missouri), we mounted the
green bluffs, and steered our course from day to day over a level
prairie, without a tree or a bush in sight to relieve the painful
monotony, filling our canteens at the occasional little streams
that we passed, kindling our fires with dried buifalo dung,
which we collected on the prairie, and stretching our tired limbs
on the level turf whenever we were overtaken by night. We
were six or seven days performing this march; and it gave me
a good opportunity of testing the muscles of my legs with a
number of ‘half-breeds’ and Frenchmen, whose lives are mostly
spent in this way, leading a novice a cruel and almost killing
journey. Every rod of our way was over a continuous prairie,
with a verdant green turf of wild grass of six or eight inches in
height, and most of the way enamelled with wild flowers and
filled with a profusion of strawberries, For two or three of the
first days the scenery was monotonous, and became exceedingly
painful from the fact that we were, to use a phrase of the country,
‘out of sight of land,’ te. out of sight of anything rising above
the horizon, which was a perfect straight line around us, like that
of the blue and boundless ocean. The pedestrian over such a
discouraging sea of green, without a Jandmark before or behind
him, without a beacon to lead lim on or define his progress, feels
weak and overcome when night falls; and he stretches his ex-
hausted limbs apparently on the same spot where he has slept the
night before, with the same prospect beforeand behind him; the
same grass and the same wild flowers beneath and about him;
the same canopy over his head, and the same cheerless sea of
green to start upon in the moming. It is difficult to describe
the simple beauty and serenity of these scenes of solitude, or the
feelings of feeble man, whose limbs are toiling to carry him
through them—without a hill or tree to mark his progress, and con-
vince him that he is not, like a squirrel in his cage, standing still
aft:r all his toil. One commences on peregrinations like these
with a light heart and a nimble foot, and spirits as light as the
very air, but his spirit soon tires. I got op fur a couple of days
in tolerable condition, but my half-breedcompanions took the
lead at length, and Jeft me with several other novices far behind,
and the pai in my feet became so intolerable, that I felt as if I
could go tio farther, when one of our half-breed leaders stepped up
to me and told me that I must * turn my toes in,” as the Indians
do, and that I could then go on very well, I soon found, upon
trial, that by turning my toes in my feet went more easily
through the grass; and, by turning the weight of my body more
equally on the toes, enabling each one to support its propor-
tionable part of the load, instead of throwing it all on to the
joints of the big toes, which is done when the toes are turned out.
I rigidly adhered to this mode, and found no difficulty on the
third and fourth days of taking the lead of the whole party,
which I constantly led until our journey was completed. On
this march we were all travelling in mocassins, which being
made without any soles, according to the Indian custom, had but
little support for the foot underneath, and consequently soon |
subjected us to excruciating pain whilst walking according to
the civilized mode with the toes turned out. From this very
painful experience I learned, to my come satisfaction, that
man ina state of nature, who walks on his naked feet, must
walk with his toes turned in, and that civilized man can walk
with his toes turned out if he chooses, if he will use a stiff sole
under his foot, and will be content at last to put up with an
acquired deformity of the big toe.—Cathn's North American
Indians.

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

188

(Santiago.—From an ongiual Sketch.)

CHILE.

Tax town of Santiago (or St. Jago) is the capital of
the modern republic of Chilc, one of those numerous
states into which the enormous colonial possessions of
Spain have formed themselves since their severance
from the mother-country; and one which from its
growing commercial importance, and the peculiarities
of its soil and climate, may justly claim a short notice
in the Penny Magazine.

The territory of Chile forms a narrow slip between
the western side of the Andes and the Pacific Ocean,
extending from the desert of Atacama, in 25° S. lat., a

rtion of the republic of Bolivia, to the river Biobio,
in about 37° S. The province of Valdivia also forms
part of the republic, extending farther south; the
Chilians claim, indeed, the whole coast to the Strait of
Magalhaens, but the possession is merely nominal, they
have no settlements south of the Biobio, except the
town Valdivia, and one or two forts on the banks of
that river, of which Osorno lies in 40° 20’S. The
remainder of the continent, to the Strait, is in the free

ossession of the independent and hitherto unsubdued

ndians of Araucania. The archipelago of Chiloé,
however, forms an integral province of the Chilian
republic, and sends representatives to the general con-
gress. These islands lie between 41° 48’ and 43° 50’
S. lat., and 73° 20’ and 74° 30’ W. long. The breadth of
Chile varies from about one hundred to two hundred
miles, being widest towards the south, the parallel of
70° W. passing through its whole length.

Independent of the gigantic Cordilleras, which
form the eastern boundary, there are three other ranges
of mountains which traverse the length of the country.
The face of the cierars| is therefore singularly irregu-
lar : broken up into table-lands and ravines ; numerous

rivers, or rather mountain streams, none navigable for
any great distance from their mouths, and few which
are not dry during great part of the year; for but little
rain falls, though they have a very abundant dew, and
the streams are fed almost entirely by the periodical
melting of the snows of the Andes. All the rivers
of course run from cast to west. The climate is
fine, in some respects resembling Italy ; the heat of the
suminer, which commences about November, being
tempered by the breezes from the mountains or the
sca. The greatest heat is about January or February,
when the thermometer frequently rises to 85°, and in
the interior to 90° or 95°; in winter, about July or
August the average temperature is about 70°; and
though of course there is much difference arising from
local situation, the whole country is considered remark-
ably healthy, no particular discase being anywhere
prevalent. Periodical gales are, however, frequent
and violent ; and in the rainy season, May and June,
when they are from the north-west, ships are forced
to quit the harbours, none of which afford them shelter
from this quarter, and weather the storms in the
open sea.

The soil is in general fertile, but intertropical plants
do not succeed, and the agriculture is therefore
limited to the productions of Europe. Indian corn is
grown everywhere, but not to a great amount. Wheat
is the staple: it is raised all over the country, and
gives in many placcs ue abundant crops, especially
south of the Rio Maule, whence considerable quantities
of flour are exported to the harbours along the
western coast of South America, where it enters into
competition with the flour brought from the United
States. Large quantities are from time to time shipped
to Cook’s Land or New South Wales. Barley is
grown in the southern provinces to some extent; oats

190

only on a few estates, and rye is not known. Legu-
minous vegetables are grown abundantly, especially
different kind of beans, and supply an article of expor-
tation. Hemp is raised in the country north of the
Rio Mayp), and grows to an extraordinary height.
Vegetables are not much cultivated, except in the
countries about the capital and the most frequented
parts. Potatoes however are grown in great abundance
in the northern districts. Capsicum is raised in the
valley of Aconcagua, and forms a considerable article
in the internal commerce of the country. The quinoa
(Chenopodium quinoa) is peculiar to Chile, and, in

the southern provinces, is raised in abundance, and.

somewhat resembles millet: a pleasant beverage is
made of it. Melons and water-melons, as well as
pumpkins, succeed very well in the northern provinces,
where they are raised in great quantities, and attain a
ans size.

igs, grapes, pomegranates, oranges, and peaches
succeed best in the most northern districts, whence
they are exported to the other parts of the state.

Wine is made at different places, but not yet with any
great success, The best is made near Concepcion.
The olive-tree succeeds as well as in Spain, and its
cultivation is rapidly increasing, but the oil is bad for
want of a proper method of preparing it. Extensive
forests of wild apple and pear trees occur along the
foot of the Andes in the southern provinces. The
fruits are hardly eatable, but cider is made of them.
The forests, which cover so considerable a portion of
the southern provinces, contain many fine timber-
trees, which form one of the more important articles of
export.

attle are very abundant north of the Rio Maule,
the declivities of the mountains and high hills affording
copious pasture for four or five months, and some low
tracts, which are sown with lucerne, for the remainder
of the year. Single proprietors sometimes possess
from ten thousand to twenty thousand head of cattle.

Live stock, jerked beef, tallow, and hides are large
articles of export. Cheese is made on the banks of
the Rio Maule and sent to Peru; and butter in the
neighbourhood of the larger towns. Horses have
greatly decreased in number during the last twenty
years, Sheep are not numerous, and their wool is bad.
Goats are kept by the lower classes, but are not nume-
rous. Swine are found in abundance in the archipe-
lago of Chiloé, whence hams are exported; on the
continent they are less numerous. Pork is salted in
the harbours as provisions for the vessels.

_Gold-dust is found in the sand of nearly all the
rivers which come down from the Andes, as in the Rio
de Aconcagua, Rio Maule, and Biobio. Some gold-
mines occur in the northern districts, where they are
worked, but the produce is inconsiderable. Silver is
more abundant, but the average is only from nine to
ten marcs (one marc = eight ounccs) in the cargo, or
five thousand pounds of ore. In 1832, however, very
rich silver-mines were discovered about sixty miles
south of the town of Copiapd, where the ore was
found so rich as frequently to contain sixty or seventy
per cent. of pure metal. Their working has com-
menced with great activity, and all the other mines
are nearly abandoned. The copper-mines are very
numerous in the northern district, especially about
Illapel, Coquimbo, Copiapd, and Suasco: copper is
also found farther south in the Andes, but is not
worked. A small portion comes to Europe, but by
far the larger part goes to India and the United States.
Ores of lead, tin,
are not worked.

_The coal formation extends under a considerable

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

and iron are said to exist, but they |

(May 14,

in sufficient quantity, and is, therefore, imported from
Patagonia and Peru.

The commerce of the country, which is chiefly
carried on at Valparaiso, is considerable and increas-
ing. The exports are calculated at about a million
and a haf, and the imports at a million, one-third of
the trade being in the hands of the English. In the
single port of Valparaiso, in 1834, the amount of
tonnage entered inwards was 77,000; of this 20,150
were English, and 20,700 from the United States. The
population is variously estimated, but the most recent
statement, founded on a roughly-tcken census, gives
it as 1,400,000 : these are almost entirely of European
descent, little mixture having taken place with the
original red inhabitants, there being very few negrocs
and no native Indians north of the Biobio, except ina
few of the valleys of the Andes south of Santiago.

The great and perhaps the only drawback to the
beauty and serenity of the climate arises from the
frequency of earthquakes. The whole district seems
to repose on acrust over an abyss of subterraneous fire.
There are said to be no less than fourteen active vol-
canoes in the Andes which forms the boundary of the
republic. Inthe northern districts slight shocks are
felt almost every day, and occasionally several times in
a day. Sometimes they destroy the towns and lay
waste a great extent of country. Jn 1819 the town of
Copiapd was levelled to the ground ; and in 1822 the
damage done in Valparaiso and the country about it
was not much less. In 1835, Valparaiso, Concepcion,
and the neighbourhood again suffered greatly, the shock
extending trom Santiago to Valdivia. Concepcion was
utterly destroyed, and fifty lives were lost ; but its effect
was most striking on the sea at the port of Taliahuano,
which is thus described by A. Caldcleugh, who was in
the country at the time :—“ It was remarked that the
sea had retired so much beyond its usual limits, that
all the rocks and shoals in the bay were visible. It
flowed again, and again retired, leaving the ships dry
which were at anchor in the harbour. Then an enor-
mous wave was seen slowly approaching the devoted
town from the direction of the Boca Chica. For ten
minutes it rolled majestically on, giving time to the
inhabitants to run to the heights, whence they saw the
whole place swallowed up by this immense breaker. In
this moment of terror men saw the roller with litue
accordance as to its size; some compared it to the
height of the loftiest ship, others to the height of the
island of Quiriquina. It carried all before it, and rose
by accurate measusement twenty-eight feet above
high-water mark. A small schooner of eighty tons,
nearly ready for launching, was lifted over the remains
of the walls, and found lying among the ruins three
hundred yards from her stocks. The reflux of this
roller carried everything to the ocean. Another and
a larger wave succecded ; but taking a more casterly
direction, the ruins of Taliahuano escaped, but the
Isla del Rey was ravaged by it. A fourth and last
roller, of small dimensions, advanced, but nothing was
left for further devastation. While these great waves
were rushing on, two eruptions of dense smoké were
observed to issue from the sea. One, in shape like a
lofty tower, occurred in the offing; the other took
place in the small bay of San Vicente, and after it had
disappeared a whirlpool succeeded, hollow in shape
like an inverted cone, as if the sea were pouring into
a cavity of the earth. In every direction in this bay,
as Well as in Taliahuano, vast bubbles broke, as if an
immense evolution of gas were taking place, turning
the colour of the water black, and exhaling a fetid
sulphureous odour. At San Tomé, on the other side
of the bay, the roller did immense damage; and on

part of the southern provinces, and is now worked to | the island of Quiriquina the cattle dashed off the cliffs
a considerable extent. Salt is also produced, but not | from panic. In this island the waves injured houses

1812. }

forty feet above the present level of high-water, and
during the three following days the sea ebbed and
flowed irregularly.”

For the following lively description of the town of
Santiago, of which we have given a representation at
the head of this article, we are indebted to Sutcliffe’s
‘Sixteen Years’ Residence in Chile, from 1822 to
1839.’

“The city of Santiago would, if it was properly
regulated by its municipal body, be one of the cleanest
and most salubrious cities in South America. It is
laid out in squares of one hundred and thirty-eight
yards in front, and divided by streets of about eleven
yards in width; all are paved, and the principal ones
flazrred on each side ; those that run from the east to
west have canals, which are constructed to irrigate the
town, and carry off the filth.

“Since my arrival in Chile, a great many improve-
ments have been made in the capital, and a spirit of
innovation has commenced in the mode of building,
for in lieu of the low-built houses built of ‘adobes’
(bricks dricd in the sun), that took up the sixth or
eichth of a square, there are now substantial houses
built of stone and brick, that only occupy one-half of
the cround, and are of two or three stories high. Don
Ambrosio Aldunate has built an edifice, occupying
one side of the principal square, that is four stories
high; the lower range is occupied by the stores of the
most respectable tradesmen; but the upper stories are
allempty, and will, perhaps, have to remain untenanted
on account of the dread of earthquakcs: there are
also a series of neat wooden shops under the portico,
which give it the appearance of a bazaar. The state-
house or palace is a long irregular building, divided
into three departments, one of which is the residence of
the president of the republic ; [the others are] the trea-
sury and public offices, the municipal hall and prison: on
another side is the cathedral, and the residence of the
bishop ; the other is of private dwellings and shops.
In the centre of the square is a fountain, in which is a
beautiful marble monument, made in Italy, allegorical
of the independence of Chile, from which pure water
gushes to supply the city.

“ There are two promenades: that of winter is on
or along the Tajamar, which is a series of strong para-
pets, that are built of brick and stone, about eighteen
feet from their foundation, six in thickness, and well
supported by buttresses ;: this was projected and partly
built by Don Ambrosio O’Higgins, Conde de Ballenar,
when he was president of Chile, and now extends along
the margin of the Mapocho, about four thousand two
hundred and sixty yards from the bridge, in order to
protect the city from the river, which, although in the
dry season it appears to be nothing but a petty stream,
has often during the rains been so swollen and rapid
as to threaten Santiago and J.a Chimba with destruc-
tion. I have often heard strangers express their sur-
prise at seeing the superb bridge, and wonder at the
Chilians having commenced such an expensive under-
taking as the building of it and the Tajamar must
have been; and the Chilians themselves have often
said,

¢ Either sell the bridge or buy a river,’

in order to ridicule Los S. S. O'Higgins and Zanartu,
who projected these useful and now properly appre-
ated: undertakings ; for had it not been for the para-
pets during the year 1827, Santiago would have been
washed away.

‘“‘The.walk on the Tajamar is incommodious, although
a favourite one: close to the city there is a short
alameda, with a few seats, and a fountain, with several
willow and poplar trees ; and near to the east end is a
race-ground, where on a feast-day numbers of Chin-

THE PENNY MAGAZINE,

191

ganas are congregated. The races in Chile are of a
short distance, and from one to two or three quadras.
the horses are not saddled ; they are rode only with a
sheep-skin or cloth, and boys who are well trained: the
horses start at full speed. The Chilians are very fond
of such sport, and they are often races of consideration:
these are run on the Lomas, or plain, about one and a
half or two leagues from the capital, on the Valparaiso
road: on these occasions it is well worth the while of -
a stranger to attend, for both high and low almost
vacate the capital; and there is a great display of
equipages, from that of bis excellency the president,
to the primitive one of the bullock-cart, or, as our coun-
trymen say, ‘ Noah’s arks.’

“ The chinganas (dancing-rooms) are held in houses,
ramadas. (sheds made of the boughs of trees), or in carts
that are latticed over, and covered with gaudy trappings
and flags: each has two or more musicians and singers;
these are well dressed and decorated, and no small
quantity of paint is bestowed on some of their faces ;
their instruments are the harp, guitar, and ravel (fiddle
with three strings); and as the carts and ramadas are
generally close to each other, their music, if so it may
be called, is to a stranger the most discordant noise
that can be heard: for let the reader figure to himself
about twenty or more persons, in an area of about thirt
yards, singing or bawling as loud as their lungs will
allow them, to the tunes on the above-named instru-
ments, as well as others who are drumming with their
hands on the bottom of the harp, whilst the ‘samba

ueka,’ or other favourite step 1s danced: these are
the amusements of the lower classes; but still many
even of the most respectable enjoy a ‘baile de golpe,’
and the chingana of ‘ Las Senoras Petorquinas,’ who
were the stars of their profession, was well patronised,
for they drew an immense concourse on their com-
mencement, and reaped no small emolument from their
agility.

or The Alameda de la Canada is one of the hand-
somest in Chile, or of any I have seen in South America.
It is about 970 yards in length: this promenade is
divided into three walks, and on each side is a road for
carriages ; there are three canals or asequias, two of
which are handsomely constructed, and lined with
bricks; there are six rows of beautiful and shady
poplars, that protect such as fiat ea the walk during
the day from the sun; the middle walk is furnished
with stone seats, and at the bottom isa fountain, placed
in an octagon. During the summer evenings, and
especially on a feast-day, it 18 a pleasure to visit this

romenade, for it is then crowded with the beauty and
fashion of the capital, who leave their equipage in the
outer street, and take a few turns to enjoy the cool
breeze, and animate and enliven the scene.

“Santiago is governed bya municipal body, and di-
vided into eight departments : each has an inspector and
subalterns. There are three hospitals, a house of cor-
rection, and dépét for the convicts, who are al
asscavengers. The porters and water-carriers have a
tax imposed upon them, which is, to assemble once or
twice a month, with clubs and lassos; they are divided
into several gangs, have a district assigned to them,
and then commence at an early hour to catch and kill
every dog they meet with, in order to free the city from
them, except such as have collars, or are with their
owners: a cart brings up the rear, into which the car-
casses are thrown, and no small emolument is derived
from their skins.” The town has a regular aac be
police, both horse and foot, and is patrolled both by ay
and night, the expenses being supported by a loca
tax. “There are several market-places ; the pene
La Recoba, is a building that occupies about four
acres, having shops on each side, and gncloses a space
that is divided into departments for the sale of meat,

192 THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

flour, fruit, vegetables, &c. : it is kept tolcrably clean,
and well worth the while of a stranger to visit it on a
morning; but he must not expect to meet any ladies
or respectable persons making pores for all the
marketing in Chile is performe by the servants, who
are tenacious of this privilege, and at times insult such
foreigners as dare to introduce the custom of their
own country by mee their own purveyors, for it isa
matter of notoriety that almost every servant has his
own interest at heart, and no few douceurs are given
30 the customers,

‘Shopping is almost always performed by the re-
spectable class in the evenings, and it is surprising to
see their judgment of colours. A few foreigners keep
retail shops, and these are principally Frenchmen.
Few foreign merchants reside in Santiago, for ever
since the Custom-house has been built at Valparaiso,
the principals reside there, but there are a number of
tradesmen and mechanics; the last, if steady, get
constant work, and I have known several, such as
tailors, shoe-makers, coach-makers, cabinet-makers,
&c., realise a handsome competency in a few years.

“The neighbourhood of Santiago, and the valley of
Mepooho, is laid out in villas and small farms, which
are in the highest state of cultivation, and in which
nearly all European fruits are grown; but their prin-
cipal products are the vine, and a species of lucerne:
the latter supplies the capital with excellent forage.”

The winters at Santiago are mild, but in the rainy
season Englishmen feel the want of a fire-side instead
of the Spanish chafing-dishes, and latterly, after much
effort, some permissions have been granted for the
erection of chimneys. The population of the city is
about fifty thousand.

The other principal towns of Chile are Concepcion,
Valparaiso, Rancaqua, San Fernando, Talca, San elipe,
Valdivia, and Chiloé.

Currants—which form by far the most important and indeed
the staple article of the Grecian commerce—are the produce of
a species of vine a0 nearly resembling the grape-vine in form,
leaf, size, andl mode of growth, as to show no apparent differ-
ence to the general observer. The name is a corruption of
Corinth, in the neighbourhood of which they grow; and which
has given them the same appellation in all European lan-
guages, in some of which it is less corrupted than in our own,—
as, for instance, in French they are called raisius de Corinthe ;
and in German, Corinthen. It is an exceedingly tender plant,
requiring the greatest care and attention, but well repays the
cultivator for the labour bestowed on it. Currants will only
grow in some of the Ionian Islands and on the shores of the Pelo-
ponnesus, which consequently monopolise the trade and supply
the whole world with this article. Attempts have frequently
been made to transplant the currant-vine to other countries of
similar temperature, but uniformly without success. In Sicily
and Malta they have degenerated into the common grape, and
in Spain would not even take root at all. Recent experiments
to remove them even toa short distance, as to Attica and the
plains of Argos, have signally failed. Before the Revolution,
the cultivation of currants was much larger than at present, and
the whole trade was nearly annihilated during the war. After
the final expulsion of the Turks from the country, and the gua-
rantee of its fature independence by the three Protecting Powers,
the Greeks began again to turn their attention to the cultivation
of the currant. The few remaining old plantations, wliich had
nearly grown wild from Jong neglect, were carefully manured
and pruned, and fresh currant-vines planted, which, by the
year 1832, produced nearly four million pounds. Since that
period the production has more than doubled itself. As I men-
tioned before, the plant requires much care and labour, and the
fruit is of an equally delicate nature. It appears that the
southern shores of the gulfs of Patras and Corinth are best
adapted for the cultivation of currants, the other localities being
more subject to storms and heavy night-dews. The growth
of this fruit exfénds from Gastouni, opposite the island of
Zante, along the northern coast of the Peloponnesus, up to

[May 14,

Corinth, but seldom above two or three milesinland. The crops
are collected in the month of August; at which period the
coasts on the gulf are subject to heavy thunder-storms, accom-
panied with rain, which detach the fruit from the vines, and
sometimes destroy in a few hours a third ora fourth of the
whole crop. The prices of this article are subject to great fluc-
tuations, prouuced by the quantity of the crop, which, when
small, enhances the value of the fruit; while, on the other hand,
in abundant seasons the price necesssarily falls: so that to the
farmers it is pretty much the same whether the crop be large or
small, as they regulate their prices accordingly.—Srrong's
Greece as a Kingdom.

Hands of the Ape—The apes have no proper feet ; for what are
called such are as distinctly hands as are tne terminal organs of
the arms: that which is the great toe in the foot of man, by
which chiefly he is enabled to walk in an erect position, beig a

tfect thumb in the ape. Whence the animal is naturally
formed for climbing, and for living in trees; and its natural
position in walking on the ground, and the position which it
always assumes when not under human discipline or example, is
that of all-fours, the body being supported on four hands, instead
of on four feet, asin quadrupeds, Hence Cuvier and other recent
zoologists have invented a new name by which animals of this
class may be properly distinguished from all others. This is
quadrumana, or four-handed, by which they are equally dis-
tinguished, on the one hand, from quadrupeds, or four-footed
auimals, and, on the other, from man, who, in all his tribes, is
uniformly and alone éimanua/, or two-handed. In man, the hand
is an organ so exquisitely finished, so perfect an instrument of
his will, so admirably adapted for working out his most ingenious
devices, that some physiologists would regard this as alone suffi-
cient to account for his superiority to all] living creatures. There-
fore, in giving to the ape four hands, whereas man has but two,
we seem to lay ourselves open to such objections as that of Colonel
Bory de St. Vincent, who, in his zeal to take down that arrogance
which indisposes the recognised races of men to amit the brother-
hood of the monkey and the ape, asks, “ Are not four hands, in
fact, of more value than two, as elements of perfectibility ?”
The answer to this is the fact, that however the “hands” of the
ape may be important to him as instruments of progression in his
native forests, not one of them, or all of them together, are, or
can by any means become, in any degree cumparable to the
hand of man as an instrument of general action. ‘The most im-
portant member of the hand, the thumb, however well suited in
the ape to assist him in climbing, swinging, and clinging, is for
general uses but a poor and beggarly apology for the thumb of
man. In fact, the hand of the ape is a hand formed for such a
limited number of objects as the constitution and habits of the
ape require, and although, so far, a perfect hand, is by no means
capable of those universal applications which, m connection
with a similar universality in his other functions and endowments,
render man the undoubted lord of this lower universe. Although
ashamed to dwell on this matter, we cannot abstain from also
pointing out that the perfect use which man has of his twobands
—without being obliged in any way to employ them to assist
his stationary position or his movements from place to place—
would alone create a wide and importaut distinction, seeing that
the ape is obliged to employ his fure extremities equally with
his hind ones as instruments of progression in his native trees ;
and while he walks the ground, he has no alternative but to do
so on all-fours, or, in attempting to walk erect, to employ his
Jong fore members to stay his tottering steps, just as a Jame man
employs his crutches.—Christian Traveller.

My nt ‘|

ae)

[Foot of Man and of Orang-Utan.]

1842,]

ant PATS ated jen, 4
TL ee :

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

(‘* With an old hall hung about with pikes, swords, and bows.
. 7

Witha oe old fashion, when Christmas was comc,

To call

THE OLD AND YOUNG COURTIER.—No. V.
THE OLD HALL.—CHRISTMAS.

“ ArTEeR I had travelled through the east parts of the
unknown world, to understand of deeds of arms, and
so arriving in the fair river of Thames, I landed within
half a league from the city of London, which was (as I
conjecture) in December last; and drawing near the
city, suddenly heard the shot of double cannon, in so
great a number, and so terrible, that it darkened the
whole air: wherewith, although I was in my native
country, yet stood I amazed, not knowing what it
meant. Thus, as I abode in despair, either to return
or continue my former purpose, I chanced to see
coming towards me an honest citizen, clothed in a
long garment, keeping the highway, seeming to walk
for his recreation, which prognosticated rather peace
than peril: of whom I demanded the cause of this
great shot: who friendly answered, ‘ It is,’ quoth he,
‘a warning to the constable-marshall of the Inner
Temple to prepare to dinner.’ ” *

It was thus that the members of the Temple in
1561-2 announced “ that Christmas was come;” the
constable-marshall of that year was the celebrated
“old courtier of the queen,” Robert Dudley, Earl of
Leicester, whom the same writer thus describes :—

* * Accidence of Armoury,’ by Gerard Leigh. Jond., 1576.

No. 690,

n all his old neighbours with bagpipe and drum.”’)

“ Thus talking we entered the Prince’s Hall, where anon
we heard the noise of drum and fife. ‘ What meaneth
this drum?’ said I. Quoth he, ‘ This is to warn gen-
tlemen of the household to repair to the dresser ; where-
fore come on with me, and ye shall stand where ye may
best see the hall served ;’ and so from thence brought
me into a long gallery, that stretched itself along the
hall near the prince’s table, where I saw the prince
set: a man of tall personage, of manly countenance,
somewhat brown of visage, strongly featured, and
thereto comely proportioned in all lineaments of body.”
At this festival were present hose ambassadors, the
queen’s ministers, and many of the principal nobi-
lity. It was maintained every day until Twelfth-day,
and each day had its distinct regulations. The general
nature of the feasts may be gathered from our pre-
vious papers. On Christmas-day morning, ‘“ Service
in the church ended, the gentlemen presently repair
into the hall to breakfast, with brawn, mustard, and
malmsey ;” and this savoury meal is repeated each
day, except Wednesday, of which the regulation is “in
the morning no breakfast at all;” but “at night, be-
fore supper, are revels and dancing, and so also after
supper.’ The whole festivity was intermixed with
many mock solemnities, carried on by mock digni-
taries, and chiefly of a legal character; even the
attendants are of a high order, as mixing in the mirth;

Vou. XI.—2 C

19 THE PENNY
“the young gentlemen of the house attend and serve
till the latter dinner, and then dine themselves.” On
St. Stephen’s day the “master of the game,” in green
velvet, is officially presented to the prince between the
first and second courses, and then a ‘“‘huntsman cometh
into the hall with a fox and a purse-nct. with a cat,
both bound at the end of a staff; and with them nine
or ten couple of hounds with the blowing of hunting
hornes: and the fox and cat are by the hounds set
upon, and killed beneath the fire ;” the “master of
the game” being on this occasion Christopher Hatton,
afterwards Elizabeth’s “ grave lord keeper,” who here
“led the brawls,” while probably in his fancy’s eye

The seals and maces danced before him."

On St. John’s-day “about seven of the clock in the
morning the Lord of Misrule is abroad,” but it is
gravely stated that “his power is most potent” at
night. To guard, however, against any irregular ex-
ercise of the privileges of this potentate, one of the
rules of the Temple provided—‘“ That no gentleman
of this society, nor any other, oy appointment, choice,
or assent of any gentleman of this house, should in
time of Christmas, or any other time, take upon him,
or use the name, place, or commandinent of the lord,
or any such other like; or break open any chamber ;
or disorderly molest or abuse any Fellows or officer of
this house, within the precincts of the same, upon pain
to be expulsed for the abuse or disorder.”

Similar proceedings took place annually at the
other principal Inns of Court, and most of the great
noblemen’s houses in the country. The houses and halls
were profusely ornamented with holly, ivy, and other
evergreen foliage, and on every such occasion the frag-
ments of the feast were distributed to the poor. At
Gray’s Inn it wasa regulation “that the third butler
should be at the carrying forth from the buttery, and
also at the distribution of the alms, thrice by the week
at Gray’s Inn gate, to see that due consideration be
had to the poorer sort of aged and impotent persons ;”
the deserving then, as now, in few cases recciving the
advantage designed for them, while bold impostors
were in effect produced and encouraged. Charity,
however, was intended, and upon some claim being
advanced by the “ pannicr-man aud under-cook” to
these fiagments as their perquisites, it was ordered
“that for those days that the said alms were given,
they should have each of them a cast of bread, that is,
three loaves a-piece, in lieu thereof; to the end the
whole broken bread and the alms-basket might go to
the relief of the poor.”

The amusements at these festivals were not unfre-
quently, however, of a higher and more elevating
character. The ‘Twelfth Night’ of Shakspere was
performed in the hall of the Middle Temple, during
the Christmas of 1601, and masques and revels were
constant features in these festivals, both at court and
in the houses of noblemen. The old and new courtiers
found little difference in these matters between the
reigns of Elizabeth and James, but the spirit of Puri-
tanism became more and more influential; the church
festivals, particularly those of Christmas, were looked
upon as relics of popery by many who had already
begun to

“ Quarrel with mince-pie, and disparage
Their best and dearest friend, plum-porridge ;”
and though the poetry of Ben Jonson and the scenery
of Inigo Jones maintained the popularity of masques
fora time within a certain sphere, yet the poct was
aware of the existence of the growing prejudices
against them. In his masque of ‘Love Restored,’
Masquerado and Robin Goodtellow lament that there
is to be no masque, which Plutus, diszuised as Love,
has forbidden, Plutus addressing them says, “ You

[aba

MAGAZINE.

shall find custom hath not so grafted you here, but
you may be rent up, and thrown out as unprofitable
evils. tell thee, I will have no more masking; J
will not buy a false and fleeting delight so dear; the
merry madness of one hour shall not cost me the
repentance of an age.” Hobin asks, “ Are these your
court sports? Would I had kept me to my gambols
o’ the country still, selling of fish, short service, shoe-
ing the wild mare, or roasting of robin-redbreast ;” *
and thus describes his own character :—‘“ I am the
honest, plain, country-spirit, and harmless, Robin
Goodfellow ; he that sweeps the house and the hearth
clean, riddles (sifts) for the country-maids, and does
all their other drudgery while they are at hot-cockles ;
one that has discoursed with your court-spirits ere
now.” In the country-houses of persons of a sume-
what lower class, the amusements were of a similar
kind, though of an inferior character. Strutt, in his
‘ Book of Sports,’ says :—‘‘ The mummeries practised
by the lower classes of the people usually took place
at the Christmas holidays; and such persons as could
not procure masks rubbed their faces over with soot,
or painted them ; hence Sebastian Brant, in his ‘Ship
of Fools,’ alluding to this custom, says,
‘The one hath a visor ugly set ou his face,
Another hath on a vile counterfaite vesture,
Or painteth his visage with fume in such case,
That what he is himself is scantily sure.’ ”

In the ‘Paston Letters,’ also, a lady who had recently
become a widow is described as limiting, in conse-
quence, the Christmas revels of her household, so that
“there were none disguisings, ncr harping, nor luting,
nor singing, nor none loud disports ; but playing at the
tables, and chess, and cards, such disports she gave her
folks leave to play, and none other.”

In his ‘Masque of Christmas’ Ben Jonson again
alludes to the Puritanical feeling against masques and
mummeries as relics of Catholicism. ‘“ Why, gentle-
men, do you know what you do? ha! would you have
kept me out? Christmas, old Christmas, Christmas
of London, and Captain Christmas! Pray you, let
me be brought before my lord chamberlain, ll not be
answercd else. ’Tis merry in hall, when beards wag all:
I have seen the time when you would have wished for
me, for a merry Christmas ; and now you have me, they
would not let me in: I must come another time!
A good jest, as if Icould come more than once a year.

y, I am no dangerous person, and so I told my
friends of the guard. Iam old Gregory+ Christmas
still, and, though I come out of Pope’s-head aaa AS
good a Protestant as any in my parish. The truth is,
I have brought a masque here out of the city, of my
own making, and do present it by a set of my own
sons, that come out of the lanes of London, good danc-
ing boys all.” The London ’prentices were active
Spirits at that time, but the period was rapidly ap-
when their activity was displayed in other
and far less pleasant circumstances. We give one
song, a full chorus, from Jonson’s ‘ Pleasure reconciled
to Virtue,’ as pertaining in its character to the jolly
cheer of Christmas of both pcriods.

* Room! room! make room for the Bouncing Belly,
First father of sauce, and deviser of jelly ;
Prime master of arts and the giver of wit,
That found out the excellent engine the spit;
The plough and the flail, the mill and the hopper,
The luteb and the boulter, the furnace and copper,
The oven, the bavin, the mawkin, the pecl,
The hearth and the ranye, the dog and the wheel ;
He, he first invented the hogshead and tun,
The gimlet aud vice too, and taught them to run,

(May 21,

1842.]

And since with the funnel and hippocras bag,

He has made of himself, that now he cries swag !

Which shows, though the pleasure be but of four inches,

Yet he is a weasel the gullet who pinches

Of any delight, and not spares from his back,

Whatever to make of the belly a sack !

Hail! hail! plump paunch! O, the founder of taste,

For fresh meats, or powder’d, or pickle, or paste,

Devourer of broil'd, baked, roasted, or sod ;

And emptier of cups, be they even or odd :

All which have now made thee so wide in the waist,

As scarce with no pudding thou art to be laced ;

But eating and drinking until thou dost nod,

Thou break'st all thy girdles, and break'st forth a god.”

The general belief, however, of the deterioration of
the character of courtiers had at least poetical evidence
to repose upon. Spenser, ig his ‘Mother Hubbard's
Tale,’ had given the following character of a true
courtier, and certainly there were none in the court of
James who could at all sustain any comparison there-
with, and poe not many during the time which
has since elapsed.
“ Yet the brave courtier, in whose beauteous thought

Regard of honour harbours more than aught,

Doth loath such base conditien, to backbite

Any 's good name for envy or despite :

He stands on terms of honourable mind,

Ne will be carried with the common wind

Of courts’ inconstant mutability ;

Ne after every tattling fable fly ;

But hears, and sees the follies of the rest,

And thereof gathers fur himself the best :

He will not creep, nor crouch with feigned face,

But walks upright with comely stedfast pace,

Aud unto all doth yield due curtesy,

But not with kissed hand below the knee,

As that same apisl crew is wont to do ;

For he disdains himself to embrace thereto :

He hates foul leasings. and vile flattery,

Two filthy blots in noble gentry ;

Aud lotheful idleness he doth detest,

The canker worm of every gentle breast,

The which to banish with fair exercise

Of knightly feats he daily doth devise:

Now menaging the mouths of stuhbom steeds,

Now practising the proof of warlike deeds,

Now his bright arms assaying, now his spear,

Now the nigh-aimed ring away to bear :

At other times he casts to sew* the chase

Of swift wild beasts, or run on foot a race

T’ enlarge his breath (large breath in arms most needful),

Or else by wrestling to wax strong and heedful,

Or his stiff arms to stretch with yewen bow,

Aud manly legs still passing to and fro

Without a gowned beast him fast beside,

A vain ensample of the Persian pride,

Who after he had won the Assyrian foe,

Did ever after scorn on foot to go:

Thus when this courtly gentleman with toil

Himeelf bath wearied, he doth recoil

Unto his rest, and there with swect delight

Of music’s skill revives his toiled spright ;

Or else with love's and ladies’ gentle sports,

The joy of youth, himself he recomforts :

Or, lastly, when the body list to pause,

His mind unto the muses he withdraws ;

Sweet lady muses, ladies of deligl.t,

Delights of life, and ornaments of light!

With whom he close confers with wise discourse

Of nature’s work, of heaven's continual couryve,

Of foreign lands, of people different,

Of kingdoms’ change, of divers government,

Of dreadful battles of renowned knights,

With which he kindleth his ambitious sprights

To like desire and praise of noble fame,

The only upshot whereto he doth aim:

For all his mind on honour fixed is,

To which he levels al] his purposes,

* Pursue.

THE PENNY

MAGAZINE.

And in his aa service spends his daycs,
Not so mucli for to gain, or fur to raise
Himself to high degree, as for his grace,
And in his liking to win worthy place,
Through due deserts and comely carriage,
In whatso please employ his personage,
That may be matter meet to gain his praise.
For he is fit to use in all assayes,
Whether for arm and warlike amenaunce,
Or else for wise and civil governaunce ;
For he is practised well in policy,
And thereto doth his courting most apply :
To learn the interdeal of princes strange,
To make th’ intent of councils, and the change
Of states, and eke of private men somewhile
Supplauted by fine falelioudl and fair guile;
Of all the which he gathered what is fit
T’ enrich the storehouse of his powerful wit,
Which, through wise specches and grave conference,
He daily ekes, and brings to excellence.”

It must, indeed, be acknowledged, that though the
customs of celebrating the Christmas and other fes-
tivals had not greatly changed, the personal character
of the court had, even to the extent intimated in our
ballad, and that James's favourites bore a far more
marked resemblance to the apish hero of Spenscr’s
tale :—

“A thousand ways he them could entertain,

With all the thriftless games that may be found ;
With mumming and with masking all around,
With dice, with cards, with billiards, far unfit,
With shuttlecocks, misse.ming manly wit,

With courtezans, and costly riotize,

Whereof still somewhat to his share did rise.’

ee ee eg,

ABORIGINES OF VAN DIEMEN’S LAND.

Van Diemen’s Land, so called in honour of Van
Diemen, governor-general of the Dutch possessions in
the East Indics, was discovered in 1642 by Tasman,
a Dutch navigator: in geographical works, the island
is often called Tasmania. For above a century after-
wards no Europeans touched its shores. In 1772 it
was visited by Captain Marion, a Frenchman, who
subsequently visited New Zealand, and left there a
name which is recollected by the natives at this time
for the signal vengeance which he took in consequence
of a treacherous attack by the islanders. In 1773
Captain Furneaux anchored at Van Dicmen’s Land
in the Adventure, one of the two ships sent under
the command of Cook ona voyage of discovery in the
southern hemisphere. Captain Cook visited the island
in 1777, on his last voyage. At this time it was sup-
posed to be a part of New Holland, but in 1797 Lieu-
tenant Flinders discovered the channel by which it is
separated, and gave it the name of Bass’s Straits, in
honour of the surgeon of his vessel. In 1803 the
governor of New South Wales dispatched a small
rty of soldiers and convicts to take possession of the
island, in consequence of a rumour that the French
were about to form a settlement upon it; and it soon
became a penal colony for offences committed in Eng-
land. Within the last twenty-five Phen a large
number of free emigrants have settled in Van Dic-
men’s Land, which now contains a population of about
forty-five thousand persons. The climate resembles
England much more than a part of its vast neigh-
bour New Holland, and the fruits and productions of
England arrive at great perfection.
nowing what has taken place in other countries
colonized by Europeans, the philanthropist may ask,
with sone apprehension, what has been the fate of the
aboriginal inhabitants of Van Diemen’s Land? When
Captain Furneaux visited them, their general inferiority
to the natives of New Holland was at once obvious,

! and they were classed with the miserable inhabitants

2C2

196 THE PENNY

of Tierra del Fuego in point of intelligence. They
were evidently a branch of the Papuan race, such as is
found at the present day in New Guinea, on the north
coast of New Holland, a race bearing a strong resem-
blance tothe negroes of Guinea in Africa. From
New Guinea the Papuan race may be traced northward
through various islands of the Indian Archipelago, to
the Malayan Peninsula on the Asiatic continent. In
this direction, with the exception of New Guinea, they
are not the dominant race, but have been driven from
the coasts into the interior by a more civilized people.
South-eastward of New Guinea, the same race is found
in the large islands of New Britain, New Ireland, and
the islands lying east of New Holland, to the archi-

elago of the New Hebrides. The aborigines of New
Folland consist of the woolly-haired or Papuan race,
and another race, having straight hair; but the latter
are the most numerous and powerful. In Van
Diemen’s Land the former race was alone found.
Forty years have scarcely elapsed since the settlement
of Van Diemen’s Land, and for several years there has
not been a single native on the island. Ina country
the size of Ireland, with a very scanty European popu-
lation, there was not, forsooth, room for the aboriginal
inhabitants, and they have been ruthlessly swept away!
In 1804, before the settlement was a year old, an un-
fortunate collision took place, which brought on a state
of hostility that ended only with the extermination of
the wretched natives. They had assembled to the
number of three or four hundred for the purpose of
holding a ‘ corrobory,’ or general aula and before
separating they pulled down one of the huts erected
by the settlers, and proceeded to some further violence,
when the officer in command assembled the military
and convicts, and drove the natives into the woods,
killing, according to different reports, from twenty to
fifty. Svon after this first outbreak, the natives made
another hostile demonstration, when they were dis-
persed by a murderous fire of grape-shot. From this

eriod feelings of retaliation and revenge prevailed on

oth sides, and the settlers were frequently murdered
at the solitary places on the outskirts of the settlement.
To revenge their death, the natives were hunted down
and shot wherever they. could be found. On one
occasion a party of seventeen were murdered in cold
blood while bathing. Their numbers were also thinned
by the bush-rangers—convicts who had made their
escape, and practised all the worst vices of civilized
and savage life. One of these miscreants, who was
apprehended, confessed that he had at times shot the
natives for the purpose of feeding his dogs. Another
took ten or fifteen native women to different islands
in Bass’s Straits, to procure seal skins, and if on his
return they had not accomplished the task assigned
them, he was in the habit of tying them up to trees for
twenty-four hours or a longer period, and if they
proved stubborn, killed them outright. The natives
of course made no distinction between these outcasts
of society and the peaceable settler, but, when oppor-
tunity offered, wreaked their vengeance on all alike.
In 1829 and the two following years the colony was
kept ina state of constant alarm by these outrages,
and the government were induced to adopt measures
for Sy uine the native tribes. A large force took
the field with the intention of driving the natives into
the peninsula called Tasman’s Head, but they broke
through the lines, and the expedition consequently
failed. Subsequently, through the philanthropic exer-
tions of Mr. Robinson, the aborigines were collected
from all parts of the island and removed to Flinders’
Island in Bass’s Straits, where means were adopted
for civilizing them, and they were fed and clothed
at the expense of the colonial government. Their
numbers, however, were soon thinned by disease, and

MAGAZINE. [May 21,
the governor of Van Diemen’s Land and the Secretary
of State for the Colonies recommended that an asylum
should be given to them at Port Philip, on the opposite
coast of New Holland; but the Legislative Council of
New South Wales refused their permission, on the

round that the natives were not sufficiently civilized.

he total number of natives on Flinders’ Island in
1833 was only one hundred and twenty, of whom only
four were children. If pains had bcen taken to
reclaim them on the first settlement of the colony in
1803, they might gradually have become useful mem-
bers of the community as shepherds and herdsmen,
occupations which the natives of New South Wales
have in some cases been found capable of rforming.
As it is, the guilt of having exterminated them by acts
of unmitigated barbarity and reckless cruelty cannot
now be expiated in their case. Fortunately a more
considerate and benignant feeling has sprung up
within the last few years, and a wiser and more merci-
ful course towards the aborigines in all our possessions
has become a principle of British policy, of which itis to
be hoped we shall never again lose aighe

Social System in Japan.—The great characteristic of political
society in Japan is that every ert ment and profession is here-
ditary, whence the absence of all those moving impulses to indi-
vidual ambition which animate and convulse society in Europe.
The population of the country is divided into eight classes, viz. :
the reigning princes or governors,—the nobility,—the priesthood,
—military,— civil officers,— merchants, — artisans, — and la-
bourers. There is one solitary profession, which seems, like the
Parias of India, to form a caste beyond the pale of society; and
this is the profession of a tanner. All intercourse with tanners
is avoided as well as forbidden, and they supply the public with
executioners. . . The Japanese female enjoys scarcely less free-
dom than the European, is the presiding deity at all festivals,
and is the ornament of social life. The samsie, or guitar, is to
the younger branches of the gentle sex what the pianoforte is to
our unmarried countrywomen, and there are but few who neglect
to acquire the art of playing upon it. Agriculture and manu-
factures are in as advanced a state in Japan as in any
Eastern country. Telescopes, thermometers, watches, and clocks
of excellent quality, are made at Nayasatei. I have seen a
clock which was five feet in length and three in breadth: it was
embellished with a landscape of neatly varied features, and a
golden sun; when striking the hour, a bird flapped its wings, a
mouse emerged from a hole and climbed a hill, while a tortoise
crept slowly along for the purpose of marking the hour on the
face.—Meylan's Illustrations of Jupan,

Persian Swords.—Some very fine blades were sent to us for
our inspection by a decayed widow lady, whose husband had
been one of the former Doorance lords. Que of these scimitars
was valued at five thousand rupees, and the other two at fifteen
hundred each. The first of these was an Ispahan sword, made
by one Zaman, the pupil of Asad, and a save of Abbas the
Great. It was formed of what is called “ Akbaree steel,” and
had belonged to Ghoolam Shah Calora of Sinde, whose name
was upon it, and was brought from that country during the wars
of Mudad Khan. The especial cause of its great value was that
the water could be traced upon it, like a skein of silk, down
the entire length of the blade. Had this watering been inter-
rupted by a curve or cross, the sword would have Leen com-
paratively valueless. The second was also a Persian sword, of
the water called “‘ Begumee.” The lines did not run down
straight, but waved like a watered silk fabric. It had the name
of Nadir Shah on it. The third was what is termed a “ Kara”
aaa Khorasan blade, of the water named “ Bidr,” and came
rom Casveen. There were neither straight nor waving lines in
it, but it was mottled with dark spots. All these swords were
light and well-balanced ; the most valuable one was the most
curved ; the steel in all the three tingled like a bell, and is said
to improve by age. One test of the genuineness of a sword is
that it can be written upon with gold; others, more certain, are
its cutting through a large bone, and severing asilk handkerchief
when thrown into the air.—Sir dlerander Burnes’ Cabvol.

18!2.]

— a 4 fi teat

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

197

{Banqueting House, Whitehall ; and Gate-house, supposed to have been designed by Haus Ho.bein.)

WHITEHALL AND HANS HOLBEIN’S GATE-
HOUSE.

Tue Banqueting House at Whitehall is the only
remains of the palace occupied as the London resi-
dence of the kings of England from Henry VIII. to
William III. In the thirteenth century, Hubert de
Burgh built a residence here, which he bequeathed to
the convent of Black Friars in Holborn. In 1248 the
friars sold the place to Walter de Grey, Archbishop of
York, and for nearly three centuries it was the town re-
sidence of the prelates of that see, Wolsey being its last
archiepiscopal occupant. During this period it was
called York House. The old palace at Westminster,
which had been the seat of the English kings from Edward
the Confessor downward, had now become dilapidated ;
and as soon as Henry VIII. had dispossessed the proud
and magnificent cardinal, he himself took possession of
his official mansion, in which he soon made numerous
alterations. Anact of parliament, passed in 1536,
recites that the king had lately obtained one great
mansion-place and house, and that upon the soil and
ground thereof he had “ most sumptuously and curi-
ously builded and edified many, and distinct, beautiful,
costly, and pleasant lodgings, buildings, and mansions,”
and adjoining thereunto “had made a park, and
walled and environed it round with brick and stone,
and there devised and ordained many and singular
commodious things, pleasures, and other necessaries,
apt and convenient to appertain to so noble a prince
for his pastime and solace.” The above act defined
the district which should be deemed and called the
‘ King’s Palace at Westminster.’ It comprised a space
between Charing Cross and the Sanctuary at Westmin-
ster, bounded by the Thames on the east and the wall of
the palacé park on the west. By the time of James I.,
this palace of Henry’s had become unfit for the resi-
dence of the sovereign, and in 1606 James commenced
dar ee 3 it to pieces, intending to erect new buildings,
and a large banqueting-room had been already finished,
when a fire occurred, in 1619, which was so destructive,
that James now determined upon entirely rebuilding

the palace, and Inigo Jones was commissioned to make
the designs. A ground-plan of his magnificent and
extensive design is given in the ‘Penny Magazine,’
No. 28. The present Banqueting House, commenced
in 1619, and completed in two years, at a cost of 17,000/.,
was the only part of the proposed edifice which was
executed. Whitehall was the residence of James I,
Charles I. and II., Cromwell, and James II. William
III. resided chiefly at Hampton Court, and his suc-
cessors, as well as himself, down to her present majesty,
resided at St. James’s Palace when in town. In 1691
a considerable portion of the royal residence was
destroyed by fire, and in 1698 another fire occurred,
which proved still more destructive, leaving only the
resent Banqueting House, and some small buildings,
including two ip hibe f
The history of English politics during a very event-

ful period is closely Connected with the Whitehall
of Wolsey and Henry VIII., and the Whitehall of
Charles I. and Cromwell. Henry VIII. and Eliza-

beth exercised their authority with a high hand, and
by their firmness rendered the task of a succeeding
sovereign in a more mee age one of greater diffi-
culty. Yet James I. fully asserted the divine right of
kings, and his son Charles I. passed through one of
the windows of the present banqueting-room to the
scaffold, a martyr to the same high notions of his
state.

Whitehall has also its associations connected with
the arts. Hans Holbein had apartments init. One
of the two eaeware spared a re in 1698 was always
regarded as the design of Holbein. The king was
invited to Sir Thomas More’s house at Chelsea, which
contained a number of the painter’s works, with which
Henry was so much gratified, that he took Holbein
into his service, gave him an apartment in Whitehall,
and a pension, besides paying him for his pictures.
Holbein was an architect as well as a painter, and
though no actual proof exists that the gateway was
really designed by him, yet there isnoreason why tra-
dition in this case should not be considered as an echo
of thetruth. Stow speaks of “the beautiful gate-house

198

athwart the High Strect to St. James s Park, &c ; and
Howell, in his ‘ Londinopolis,, merely copies Stow. It
faced the Horse Guards, and cxtended nearly to the
Banqueting Hall opposite. We have given a view of
this gate-house in our engraving, and another will
be found in the ‘Vetusta Monumenta,’ published by
the Antiquarian Society about the middle of the last
century, though unaccompanied by a description. It
was an elegant Gothic structure, built to unite that

art of the palace next the river with the parts ad-
joining the park. In the eighth voluine of the * Ar-
chaologia’ 1s an account of the various modes prac-
tised in this country of building with brick and stone:
the gateway in question is referred to as a specimen
of a style which was much admired in Flanders
in the early part of the sixteenth century, a peculia-
rity being produced by the use of squared flints, and
also by glazed tiles and coloured bricks. From the ac-
counts given by different writers, it appears that bricks
of two colours, glazed, and disposed in a tessellated
fashion, were peed. as wellas squared flints, in Holbein’s
gate-house. Another mercly says the fronts were che-
quered. In the front were also circular recesses with
inouldings round, in proper colours and glazed in the
manner of Delft ware, and each recess contained a
bust in terra-cotta. Malcolm says that the fronts
contained mullioned windows with intervening en-
amelled busts. The arches were pointed and groined,
and the edifice was flanked by four octagonal towers.
There was another gate-house, which was also orna-
mented with busts: it stood at the north end of King
Strect, and was taken down in 1723, to improve the
approach towards the Houses of Parliament. It was
probably these busts which found their way into Essex.
Ifolbein’s Gate was not pulled down until 1750,
when the same cause which had led to the demolition
of the other gateway rendered the removal of this
also necessary. The Duke of Cumberland, brother of
George II., designed to have used the materials ina
gateway which it was intended to erect at the top of
the Long Walk at Windsor; and with this view all the
external parts were marked and numbered, so that
they might occupy the same positions when again put
together. The dukes design was never executed, and
two of the busts were latcly to be seen on the road
above Virginia Water, on Windsor Forest, at one of
the keepers lodges; but we believe they have been
since removed with a view to their preservation. Hol-
bein was in high favour with Henry, and on one occasion
when a complaint was made ‘against the painter by
some nobleman, the king most effectually shielded the
painter, observing to the humiliated nobleman, “Of
seven peasants I can make as many lords, but I cannos
make one Holbein.” Rubens was invited to Whitchall
by Charles J., and through his agency the purchase of
the Cartoons was effected. He painted the cciling of
the Banqueting House, for which work Rubens re-
ceived 3000/. Charles collected with great taste and
judgment some of the finest works of art in Europe.
His collection at Whitehall comprised four hundred
and sixty pictures, including twenty-eight by Titian,
eleven by Curreggio, sixteen by Julio Romany, nine by
Raffaclie, four by Guido, and seven by Parmegiano.
During the Civil War these treasures were seized, and
ordered to be sold for the benefit of Ireland and the
north; but those which contained representations
savouring of ihe eae as pictures of the Virgin,
were ordered to be burnt. To the credit of Cromwell,
when the times had become more peaceable, he exerted
himself to restore the collection of Charles; and we
are indebted to him for the Cartoons of Raffaelle, wiaich
he re-purchased.

rr er eee
rn i a an a
a en

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

[May 21,

ON DRAINING THE FENS OF THE
EASTERN COUNTIES.

NEAR the eastern coast of England isa tract of land
which has profited by human industry more perhaps
than any other part of the kingdom. A glance ata
map will show that betwcen Norfolk and Lincolnshire
an arm of the sea enters and forms a well-marked
division between the counties; this arm is called the
Wash: the district of country surrounding this in the
furm of a horse-shoe is that to which we here allude.
Whether or not the opinion be correct that much of
this was recovered from the sca by embankments
formed by the Romans, it is certain that nearly the
whole surface was once a marsh or moss, nearly useless
to man. The changes which capital and industry have
cffected are most remarkable.

That portion of the marshy land which lies west and
north-west of the Wash obtains the general name of
the Fens of Lincolnshire ; while the more southern part,
comprising portions of the counties of Lincoln, Hunt-
ingdon, Cambridge, Norfolk, Suffolk, and Northamp-
ton, is known as the Bedford Level.* Many parts of
this region are so soft, that men and animals cannot
obtain a firm footing; other parts are covered with
shallow water; while in others a watery state of the
soil, called the soak, is experienced, by which expression
is meant subterrancous water found at various depths,
usually at only a very few feet below the surface : this
rises and sinks according to the scason, and is supposed,
from its saline quality, to be the sea-water filtered
through a stratum of silt. Many parts of the soil,
before the recent improvements, presented the features
of a peat-bog, or flow-moss, the general character of
which has been thus described by Mr. Stecle :—“ A
peat-bog, or flow-moss, in its natural state is a tract of
ground generally almost level, often many miles in
circumference, consisting of a soft, light, fibrous sub-
stance, of several feet deep, so inflammable as to bea
common fucl; casily cut with the spade, and when so
cut, and exposed to the air, changing in a few minutes
from a dusky ycllow toa blackish colour. The surface
of a peat-bog is brown or dark in its appearance ; even
in the midst of summer always wet and spongy, com-
monly covered with heath, coarse grass, and mosses, in
detached and elevated patches, the intermediate and
wetter places bearing no vegetable productions; but
(except in a drought in summer, or when frozen)
being a soft, black or brown, moist mud, unfit to sup-
port the weight of a man.”+

The greater part of that portion which forms the
Bedford Level is supposed, from the nature of the
soil, to have been once a forest. When the Romans
first invaded Britain, the natives in many cases fled to
their forests for shelter; and hence the conquerors
were led to destroy the forests, in order to cut off the
shelter afforded to the vanquished. In later ages the
sea broke through the cmbankments which had been
made on the coast, and not only produced much devas-
tation, but converted the surrounding country to the
state of a morass, because the level was below that of
any outlet by which the water could be reconveyed
into the sea. An unhealthy stagnant surface of putrid
and muddy water, interspersed here and there with
patches of spongy or boggy carth, occupied the site of
cultivated districts. The inhabitants of the towns and

* The draining of the Bedford Level has been already treated
of in a previous number (129), but rather in reference to the
history of the improvements than to the nature of them. A few
repetitions nevertheless occur here, but only such as to enable
the subject to be understood without reference to the earlier
article.

+ ‘Natural and Agricultural History of Peat-moss or Tu:f-

bog.’

3/2.)

vilages in these fenny districts could only communi-
cate from town to town by means of boats, and even
this mode of communication was rendered difficult by
the sledge and slime which covered the ground. The
peculiar features, then, of the district seem to have
been brought about by two or three causcs: Ist,
there is a basin or hollow so much below the
reneral level of the ground, that the rain which falls
on it cannot find an outlet into the sea; 2nd, there
have been inundations of the seca which covered many
square leagues of land, and converted the vegetable
substances growing thereon into that peculiar eavthy
vegetable soil known by the several names of peat,
bog, turf, moss, or fen; 3rd, there isin some parts a
subterraneous soil so porous as to allow sea-water to
filter through and keep the substratum always wet.
It may also be remarked that the waters from the
greater part of nine counties flow through the district
in their course to the sea, and that the mouths of the
“ outfalls,” or points of confluence with the sea, have
been constantly liable to be choked up by loose sand
thrown up by the tides.

To remedy these complicated evils, and to bring this
large district into cultivation, have been objects of
solicitude for centuries. The Fens of Lincolnshire,
having derived their marshy character from causes
somewhat different from those in operation in the Bed-
ford Level, have been subjected toa different kind of
reclamation; and of them we will first speak. As the
soil is so extremely flat that the rivers flow along it
very sluggishly, marshes were early formed, extending
over one-third of the county; and in order to prevent
the rivers from the upland depositing their waters in
this flat soil, the Romans constructed a large drain,
called the Car-dyke, or Fen-dike, to convey the waters
by the shortest route into the sea. By degrees a por-
tion of fenny country became thus drained: the ground
became valuable; and grants were made of portions
of fenny land to individuals, on condition of their
scouring the rivers and draining off the superfluous
waters. Another great drain, called the Foss-dyke,
was made in the reign of Henry I., as a means both of
bringing up vessels from the river Trent to Lincoln,
and of draining the adjacent country. The deepening
of the channel of the river Ancholme, and the drain-
ing of a portion of fenny land called the Isle of Ax-
nolme, were enterprises undertaken in the reign of
Edward I., and had the effect of bringing more land
into cultivation. During the reigns of the various
monarchs from Edward I. to Charles I., progressive
improvements were made; and by order of the last-
named monarch an extensive district belonging to the
crown was brought within the sphere of similar im-
provements. The mode in which the mattcr was
managed was this:—the king contracted with a Mr.
Vermuyden, of London, that if the latter would drain
the specified land at his own cost, one-third of the land
should be given to him and his heirs for ever: the un-
dertaking was completed in five years, at an expense
of about 50,000/. On another occasion, when the
Wainfleet was deepened for the purpes of draining,
each, person who received benefit to his land from the
improvement was to pay a certain suin to those who
undertook the enterprise.

During the whole of the last century, works were
in progress, having for their object the draining of
various parts of East Lincolnshire. At one spot
fifteen thousand acres of fenny land were reclaimed ; at
another, one thousand ; ata third, twenty-two thousand
acres; and soon in other parts. Many parts of the
coast, too, have been so embanked as to reclaim many
thousands of acres formerly covercd by the sea. In
some cases the expense has been borne by the towns
along the coast, called Frontier towns; in others, Com-

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

ee | see

199

missioners appuinted by parliament or by the crown
have laid a rate on all the inhabitants of the district
improved by the drainage; while in other cases a
portion of the reclaimed land has been given to thuse
who undertook the expense and responsibility of
draining.

In that more southerly portion of the fenny district
known as the Bedford Level, attempts were made to
reclaim the waste watery land about four centuries
ago, and other attempts were made in the succeeding
reigns; but nothing important was effected until the
reign of Charles I., when the then Earl of Bedford com-
menced those operations which have led to the naine
of the Bedford Level being given to the district. The
earl had an estate of about eighteen thousand acres,
which was almost wholly under water, and the wish to
reclaim this led him to propose a vast scheme for
draining three or four hundred thousand acres by
means of a joint-stock fund, the company receiving
nearly a hundred thousand reclaimed acres as their
recompense. A hundred thousand pounds were spent
in three years; weal drains were cut, and a large
extent of land partially reclaimed; but the Civil War
checked the progress of the works. In 1649, another
Earl of Bedford renewed the attempt, and spent
three hundred thousand pounds in cutting drains and
outlets for the water. The company with whom he
acted received ninety-five thousand acres, but the re-
claimed land was found to be worth less than the vast
expense incurred. The manner in which this portion
of land has been regulated is curious. Each under-
taker of the original enterprise received allotments
proportionate to the sum advanced by him; and a
royal charter was granted by which they were incorpo-
rated, and regulations were tramed for the maintenance
and improvement of the granted land. The corpora-
tion consists of a governor, bailiffs, conservators, and
a commonalty, all of whom are owners, and by whom
a tax is levied for the construction of such drains, em-
bankments, &c., as may be necessary. From the time
of Charles JI. to the present day, an almost uninter-
rupted series of works have been in progress for
draining more completely the fens and marshes; by
which is meant, not only draining away the water once
standing there, but providing a regular outfall for all
the water, whether from rivers or rain, which ma
hereafter flow into or through the district. The
drains and canals which have been made are most
numerous, and have cost an enormous sum of money.

Many parts of the Cambridgeshire and Lincolnshire
fens are so situated, that, notwithstanding the ail
afforded by improved drains, the water cannot find an
outlet, in consequence of being confined in a basin or
depressed spot surrounded by high ground. These
would have either to be abandoned as irreclaimable
marshes, or must have a permanent system in operation
for lifting all the rain-water which falls there, and
emptying it into some river which flows beyond the
edge of the hollow. The farmers have been ac-
custoined to dig trenches or drains for the reception of
the rain-water, as it flows over the surface of the
round; and from these it has been elevated by a kind
of windmill to a height sufficient for transferring it to
some stream which flows into the sea. It has often
happened, however, that when the rain falls in greatest
quantity, there is no wind to turn the mill ; and this
led to the employment of a steam-engine for a similar
purpose. Mr. Glynn communicated to the Society of
Arts, about six years ago, an account of the mode
which he adopted in draining the fens by steam, and
of the success which attended his system. In one
fenny spot he was enabled, with two steam-engines, to
effect a drainage which had required forty-four wind-
mills, Mr. Glynn found that in most cases the fenny

200

spots were so little depressed below the level of rivers

owing beyond the elevated border, that a lifting
power of three or four feet was sufficient for the
removal of all the water in the fen: this he effected
by the following means :—He caused drains to be cut
in various directions, all of which communicated with
a larger drain, of such size as to hold all the rain-water
which may fall while the steam-engine is at work.
The large drain or trench is made seven or eight feet
deep, and terminates within a short distance of the
outfall river, into which the water ie te be emptied;
and near or at this termination is a large scoop water-
wheel, kept in rotation by steam-power. The drain is
made to slope downwards toward the wheel, so as to
make the water flowin that direction. In draining one
fen Mr. Glynn used a water-wheel nearly thirty feet in
diameter, with which he elevated sixteen thousand tuns
of water per hour. To obtain some standard as to the
amount of steam-powcr required, Mr. Glynn states—
“If we suppose that in any one month there fall three
inches depth of rain, of which one inch is absorbed and
evaporated, we have one and a half cubic feet to every
square yard of land; and this multiplied by four thou-
sand eight hundred and forty (the number of square
yards in an acre) gives seven thousand two hundred
and sixty cubic feet of water to the acre;” and he
estimates that a thousand acres, watered to this extent,
might be drained in two hundred and thirty-two hours
by a stcam-engine of ten-horse power. Mr. Glynn
had drained about ninety thousand acres of fen-land,
with steam-power equal to six hundred and twenty
horses; the erection of machinery being at the rate
of about a guinea an acre, and the annual cost about
half-a-crown per acre.

When a peat-moss or fenny soil has been drained,
the soil will produce certain grasses and plants; but
in order that it may be brought into profitable cultiva-
tion, it is customarily pared and burned. The surface
of a drained peat-moss is generally very uneven ; and
the first thing is to bring all to a common level, by
paring down with a spade all the little hillocks and
elevations of soil, and filling up the hollows with the
loose materials thus obtained. Wherever the soil
partakes considerably of a vegetable peat, the frag-
ments of fibrous roots and plants obtained by the
paring are burned, and the ashes strewed over the
surface of the soil. By the more complete drainage
produced during the last twenty or thirty years, the
farmers feel so secure from inundations, that they have
adopted the system of claying or marling the land, by
throwing on it clay obtained from beneath the peat
itself. This ia effected in a singular manner:—
“Trenches are formed the length of the piece of land,
seven feet long and thirty inches wide at the surface;
they are dug sloping down to the clay, where they are
eight fect long by four feet wide; the clay is taken
out two spits decp, of about fourteen inches each, and
thrown on the laud on either side. When the first
trench is finished, another is begun, and so on, leaving
a heading between cach trench of froin thirty to thirty-
six inches. When the line of trenches is completed,
another is commenced at the distance of from twelve
to twenty yards, according to the quantity of clay
intended to be laid on the land; but the general
gata is about two hundred cubic yards per acre.

pit of the dimensions above stated will contain about
seventy-five cubic feet. The depth at which the clay
is found varies considerably; in some places it is
touched by the plough, and so on from two, three, six,
eight feet. The expense per acre of course varies,
according to the depth of the pit, and the quantity laid
on the land, from 50s. to 70s. A very great advantage
attending this mode is the saving of expense, no horses
or carts being required. From the peculiar nature of

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

(May 21,

the fen earth, these trenches are soon ploughed in, an.)
no traces left of them.’”’* An opinion is also expressed
in the work here quoted, that the time is probably not
far distant when all the fen-lands in the kingdom shall
be enabled to exert their native exuberant fertility.

The Compensation Ralance.—As the compensation balance forms
the principal distinctive feature of the inodern chronometer, it
may be well to give some account of this curious piece of me-
chanism, the form of which may be readily understood by the
aid of the annexed cut, which represents the two principal
varieties. The semicircular pieces which form the rim of the

balance consist, in both the balances here represented, of a very
Fig. 1.

Fig. 2.

ee fi “ »
¥

thin piece of steel, with an outer rim of brass firmly attached to,
and forming one piece with it. The method of making these
compound balances is one of the most curious in our metalline
manufactures. A circular piece of steel, of the size of the in-
tended balance, is turned perfectly true, and perforated in the
centre with a small pivot-hole. It is then put into a melting-
pot with a small quantity of fine brass, which, when melted,
completely covers it. The brass is subsequently filed away from
the sides and partially from the edge, so as to leave nothing but
a ring of brass, which must be perfectly united to the steel at
every point. The whole is then carefully condensed with 1
hammer or burnisher, and the steel is turned away from tho
centre, and the brass from the outside, so as to leave a thin com-
pound ring, in which the brass part is about twice as thick as
the steel. The steel from the centre is not entirely removed
in this operation, a thin bottom being left, out of which the bar
A Bis cut. The removal of the superfluous parts of this bottom,
and the cutting through of the compound ring at a a, complete
the formation of the balance itsclf. The balance is then loaded,
either by sliding weights, as iu fig. 1, or by a number of small
screws, as in fig. 2, which may be screwed in more or less, as
circumstances require. The screws C C, called mean-time
screws, regulate, by being screwed in more or less, the rafe of
the chronometer, but have nothing to do with the compensation
for changes of temperature. This is effected on the principle
before described, the compound rim enrving inwards, and thcre-
by diminishing the centrifugal force of the balance, when the
balance-spring is relaxed by heat, or expanding, and thereby
producing the contrary effect, when the spring is braced by cold.
The proper situation of the weights W W, or the regulating
screws 1, 2, 3, 4, is ascertained by experiment, the amount of
compensation being greater the nearer the weights are to the free
ends of the rim, in the balance represented by fig. 1; while in
the other form the like effect is produced by making the screws
project more or less. One of the most recent improvements in
chronometers has been inveuted aud patented by Mr. Dent, anil
consists in coating the balance and balance-spring with gold, by
the electro-metallurgic process, by which means they are secured
from rust. The same object is attained, as far as the spring ie
concerned, by another invention of the same gentleman, to whom
chronometrical science is much imdebted. The improvement
alluded to is the use of balance-springs of g/ass, which, as far as
present experience can prove, appear decidedly preferable to those
of steel; their principal disadvantage being the difficulty of
making them with certainty. The detached escapement, which
forms another peculiar feature of the chronometer, is a contri-
vance by which the balance, during the greater part of ifs
vibration, is completely detached from the wheel-work from
which its impulse is derived; the wheels, in fact, standing still
during the greater part of each vibration. This escapement
requires no oil.—Companion to Almanac for 1842.

* ‘Transactions of the Society of Arts,’ v. 52,

1842.]

FROISSART AND
No

THE BATTLE

Froissart’s description of the latest and most in-
teresting of those great events which shed so much
lustre over the English campaigns in France, the bat-
tle of Poitiers, may be safely taken altogether as one
of the most picturesque and dramatic descriptions of a
battle ever written. This is no doubt in some measure
owing to the very interesting character of many of the
incidents, although it must be remembered that the
very choice of such incidents is a feature which pre-
eminently distinguishes Froissart from all the other
old chroniclers: but this is not aJl. Froissart rises with
his theme; and he now becomes a kind of distant eye-
witness of what he describes. We do not mean that
he was positively within view of the scene at Poitiers,
but he was probably at no great distance, and was cer-
tainly immediately afterward in communication with
those who had been distinguished actors in it. Up
to the time of this battle, in 1356, Froissart principally
derives his information from the chronicles of J ain le
Bel, canon ‘of Liege, whose principal informist is un-

derstood to have been John of Hainault; but beyond

no 65].

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

HIS CHRONICLE.
mh ee

OF POITIERS.

that period Froissart collects his materials for himself,
and 1s constantly travelling with that express object.
We may read him, therefore, with the conviction that
whilst he is the most amusing and informing of his-
torians of his class, he is at the same time the most
faithful.

From the period of the siege of Calais to that of
which we are about to speak, thé chief events may be
briefly passed over. A truce for six years was agreed
to, which was but indifferently kept on either side.
Whilst it lasted, offers were made on the part of Ed-
ward to renounce all pretensions to the throne of
France, if King Jobn would yield the absolute sove-
reignty of Guienne, Calais, and the other territories
which had been held by former English monarchs as
fiets. John consented, but his people were most in-
dignant, and would not ratify the arrangement. So in
1355 the Black Prince set out on an expedition from
Bourdeaux with sixty thousand men, only a small

art of whom were his countrymen. This cruel and

! ferocious march offers a strange contrast to the gen-

Vou. XI.—2 D

202 TITE PENNY

tieness and delicacy which have stamped their impress
upon occasional incidents in the carcer of the Prince,
and in none more so than in one of those connected
with the field of Poitiers, of which we shall have to
speak. But such were the inconsistencies of chivalry,
even in its highest stage of development. The
Prince’s route lay towards the foot of the Pyrenees,
thence northward to Toulouse, where he once more
changed his direction in order to seize the rich cities
of Carcassonne and Narbonne, from which he re-
turned to Bourdeaux. And through all that fair
country, a stranger might have followed his track
by the blackened ruins of the towns and villages
burnt, and the dismal outcries of their unhappy inhabit-
ants. ‘When they entered intu a town, and found it
well replenished of all things, they tarried there a two
or three days to refresh them. When they departed,
they would destroy all the residue, strike out the heads
of the vessels of wine, and burn wheat, barley, and
oats, and all other things, to the intent that their ene-
mies should have no aid thereof.” Whilst the French,
maddened by their disgraces and sufferings, were
making the most strenuous efforts to collect an over-
whelming force to crush the invader, the Black Prince
in the following year commenced a similar expedition,
though with a force not excecding twelve or fourteen
thousand men. It was in the full tide of success of
this march, that he suddenly found himself encom-
passed on all sides. So universal a feeling of detesta-
tion had penetrated the hearts and minds of the French
people, that not a single individual could be found to
give him intelligence of the position or number of
King John’s forces, and but for the wonderful steadi-
ness and courage that have so often, in a military sense,
redeemed our military errors, those plundering and
ravaging expeditions might have worked a fatal retri-
bution. It was late in the night of Saturday, the 16th
of September, that a party of the English, who had
been sent forward in advance of the army, “saw the
great battle of the king: they saw all the field covered
with men-of-arms.” After a little skirmish, which
“these Englishmen could not forbear,” they ‘“re-
turned again to the Prince, and showed him all that
they saw and knew; and said that the French host was
a great number of people. ‘Well,’ said the Prince, ‘in
the name of God let us now study how we shall fight
with them at our advantage.’ That night the English-
men lodged in a strong place among hedges, vines,
and bushes ; and their host was well watched.”

On the French side, the king and his four sons, having
been houscled, that is to say, having received the coim-
munion, drew forth his army into the field. ‘ Then
trumpets blew up through the host, and every ian
mounted on horseback, and went into the field, where
they saw the king’s banner wave with the wind. There
might have been seen great nobles of fair harness
{armour], and rich armoury of banners and pennons ;
for there was all the flower of France: there was none
durst abide at home, without he would be shamed for
ever.’ Three knights having been sent to learn the
array and power of the English, said on their return,
‘Sir, we have seen the Englishmen; by estimation
they be two thousand men-of-arms, and four thousand
archers, and a fifteen hundred of other: howbeit, they
be in a strong place; and, as far as we can imagine,
they are in one battle: howbeit, they be wisely ordered,
and along the way they have fortified strongly the
hedges and bushes: one part of their archers are along
by the hedges, so that none can go nor ride that way,
but must pass by them; and that way must ye go, an
ye purpose to fight with them. In this hedge there is
but one entry and one issue by likelihood that four
horsemen may ride afront. At the end of this hedge
whereas no man can go nor ride, there be men-of-arms

MAGAZINE. [May 28,
afoot, and archers afore them, in manner of a hearse,*
so that they will not lightly be discomfited.” Such
was the English position: as to the order of attack
which the French ultimately determined upon, it may
be best seen in development.

On the Sunday morning a new personage came upon
the scene, the Cardinal of Perigord, who had been sent
by the pope to endeavour to make peace between the
king of France and his enemies. And most earnest
was the Cardinal in the performance of his duty. First
in great haste he came to King John, and knelt before
him, holding up his hands, saying, ‘‘ Sir, ye have here
all the flower of your realm against a handful of
Englishmen, as regards your company ; and, Sir, if
ye may have them accorded to you without battle, it
shall be more profitable and honourable to have them
by that manner, rather than to adventure so noble
chivalry as ye have here present. Sir, I require you,
in the name of God and humility, that I may ride to
the Prince, and show him what danger ye have him
in.’ The king said, ‘It pleaseth me well; but re-
turn again shortly.” The Cardinal departed, and dili-
gently he rode to the Prince, who was among his men
afoot. Then the Cardinal alighted, and came to the
Prince, who received him courteously. Then the Car-
dinal, after his salutation made, said, ‘ Certainly, fair
son, if you and your council advise justly the puissance
of the French king, ye will suffer me to treat to make
a peace between you, an I may.’ The Prince, who was
young and lusty, said, ‘Sir, the honour of me and my
people saved, T would gladly fall to any reasonable
way.” The Cardinal now “rode again to the king,
and said, ‘Sir, ye need not to make any great haste to
fight with your enemies, for they cannot flee from you
though they would, they be in such a ground: where-
fore, Sir, d require you forbear for this day, till to-
morrow the sun rising.’ The king was loth to agree
thereto, for some of his council would not consent to
it; but, finally, the Cardinal showed such reasons, that
the king accorded that respite. And in the same place
there was put up a pavilion of red silk, fresh and rich,
and leave gave for that day every man to draw to his
lodgings, except the Constable’s and Marshal's battles.”

All efforts at reconciliation, however, were vain,
although “that Sunday, all the day, the Cardinal
travelled in riding from one host to the other, gladl
to agree them.’’ Many offers were made on both
sides. In the main the French king demanded that
four of the principal Englishmen should be placed at
his absolute disposal, and the Prince and all other to
yicld themselves as prisoners. The Prince offered to
render all the towns and castles he had won in the
present expedition, as well as the pee taken, ard
to swear not to bear arms against the French for seven
years, At last King John made his final offer, that the
Prince and a hundred of his knights only should yield
themselves prisoners, which was absolutely rejected ;
and the Cardinal in despair returned to Poitiers, in the
neighbourhood of which the battle was fought.

All this while our countrymen were making ad-
mirable use of the time, strengthening the hedges,
and widening and deepening the dykes. At sunrise
on Monday morning the indefatigable Cardinal was
once more seen passing to and fro between the hosts,
thinking, Bays Froissart, ‘‘by his preaching to pacify
the parties.” Short and abrupt was the answer he
received on each side. ‘ Return whither ye will,” said
the Frenchman impatiently; “ SENG hither no more
words of treaty or peace; and if ye love yourself, de-
part shortly.” Hastening then to the Prince, he said,
evidently with deep emotion, “ Sir, do what you can--
there is no remedy but to abide the battle, for I can

* Or harrow; i.e. the men were placed in the order of the
mimic combatauts of a draught-board.

18:12.)

find none accord in the French king.” The Prince
simply and cheerfully answered, ‘lhe same is our
intent and all our people: God help the right.” As
the Cardinal disappeared, the Prince turned to his men,
and thus widveed them: ‘t Now, Sirs, though we be
but a small company, as in regard to the puissance
of our enemies, Jet us not be abashed therefore; for
the victory heth not in the multitude of people, but
whereas God will send it. If it fortune that the
journey be ours, we shall be the most honoured people
of all the world; and if we die in our right quarrel, J
have the king, my father, and brethren, and also ye
have good friends and kinsmen: these shall revenge
us. Therefore, Sirs, for God’s sake J require you do
your devoirs this day; for if God be pleased, and Saint
George, this day ye shall see me a good knight.” And,
continues Froissart, ‘‘ ‘hese words and such other that
the Prince spake comforted all his people.”

The battle began on all sides as the battalions of
the Marshal of France approached, evidently in
order to break the array of the archers. ‘ They
entered on horseback into the way where the great
hedges were on both sides set full of archers. As
soon as the men-of-arms entered, the archers began
to shoot on both sides, and did slay and hurt horses
and knights; so that the horses, when they felt the
sharp arrows, they would in no wise go forward, but
drew back, and flung, and took on so fiercely, that
many of them fell on their masters, so that for the press
they could not rise again, insomuch that the Marshal's
battle could never come at the Prince. Certain
knights and squires, that were well horsed, passed
through the archers, and thought to approach to the
Prince, but they could not. . . . . So within a short
“ space, the Marshal’s battles were discomfited, for they
fell one upon another, and could not go forth; and
the Frenchmen that were behind, and could not get
forward, recoiled back and came on the battle of the
Duke of Normandy, the which was great and thick,
and were afoot. But anon, they began to open behind;
for when they knew that the Marshal's battle was
discomfited, they took their horses and departed, he
that might best; also they saw a rout of English-
men coming down a little mountain a-horseback, and
many archers with them, who broke in on the side of
the Duke's battle.

‘“‘True to say, the archers did their company that day
great advantage, for they shot so thick, that the French-
men wist not on what side to take heed; and, little
and little, the Englishmen won ground on them; and
when the men-of-arms of England saw that the
Marshal's battle was discomforted, and that the Duke’s
battle began to disorder and open, they leaped then
on their horses, the which they had ready by them.
Then they assembled together, and cried, ‘Saint
George for Guienne ;’ and the Lord Chandos said to
the Prince, ‘Sir, take your horse and ride, for then
this journey is your’s. God is this day in your hands—
get us to the French king’s battle, for there lieth all
the sore of the matter. I think verily by his valiant-
ness he will not fly; I trust we shall have him, by the
grace of God and Saint George, so he be well fought
withal; and, Sir, I heard you say that this day I
should see you a good knight.’ The Prince said, ‘ Let
us go forth; ye shall not see me this day return back ;°
and said, ‘ Advance, Banner, in the name of God and
Saint George!’ The knight that bare it did his com-
mandment; there was then a sore battle and perilous,
and many a man overthrown, and he that was once
down could not be relieved again without great suc-
cour and aid. As the Prince rode and entered in
among. his enemies. he saw on his right hand, in a
little bush, lying dead, the Lord Robert of Duras, and

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

203

his squires, and to three archers, “Sirs, take the body
of this knight on a targe and bare him to Poitiers, and
present him from me to the Cardinal of Perigord, and
say how I salute him by that token :’ and this was done.”
This striking incident, which torms the subject of our
engraving, needs a word of explanation, which we may
here, with Froissart, pause a moient to give. “The
Prince was informed that the Cardinal's men were on
the field against him, the which was not pertaining to
the right order of arms, for men of the church, that
cometh and goeth for treaty of peace, ought not by
reason to bear harness, nor to fight for neither of the
parties.” The Prince's embassy was therefore at once
a most significant reproof and commentary. Another
of the Cardinal’s men, the Chitelain of Ainposta,
narrowly escaped a worse fate than the Lord Duras-
being taken prisoner, the Prince ordered him to be
beheaded ; but the famous warrior Sir John Chandos
succeeded in obtaining an arrest of the order.

Afghan Irrigation.—Immediately on crossing the river of
Ghoorbund, we entered Kohistan Proper, a country rich without
parallel. It is of no great extent, its form beinf@that of the
segment of a circle, the length of which is about sixteen or
eighteen miles, and five or six its greatest depth. The fertility
and (esa aataee of the soil is equalled by the industry of the
people, who, forming bank above bank, acquire, as it were, land
from their stony hills, all of which they irrigate with a care and
zeal greatly to be admired. Aqueducts may be often seen fifty
and sixty feet up the hill, conducted round every swell and
valley, till at last they pour out their contents on the embanked
fields. Irrigation from natural rivulets is of course more econa-
mical than by canals or subterraneous water-courses. The
canals are either dug by the government or the villagers make
common cause. Ifthe former, the revenue derived is consider-
able; one hundred rupees per annum being charged for every
place through which the supply passes. In some parts of the
country the water, after being conducted, is made free property ;
in others it is carefully distributed and sold. A cut from a
caual ten fingers broad and tive deep is sufficient to irrigate eight
khurwars of grain. Much abuse, however, attends the sub-
division of the water, and the owners of lands at the lower
extremity ofa canal are often obliged to watch over the pro-
ceedings of those who live higher up, and even to bribe them not
to damage their fields by stopping the supply. For one night's
supply to a crop of twenty khurwars, from fifty to a hundred
rupees are sometimes given.— Sir Alerander Burnes’ Cabool.

No Inquiry without its Use-—It seems to be a necessary con-
dition of human science, that we should learn many (apparently)
useless things in order to become acquainted with those which
are of service ; and as it is impossible, antecedently to experience,
to know the value of our acquisitions, the only way in which man-
kind can secure all the advantages of knowledge is to prosecute
their inquiries in every possible direction. There can be no
greater impediment to the progress of science than a perpetual
and anxious reference at every step to palpable utility. Assured
that the general result will be beneficial, it is not wise to be too
solicitous as to the immediate value of every individual effort.
Nor is it to be forgotten that trivial and apparently useless
acquisitions are often the necessary preparatives to important
discoveries. The labours of the antiquary, the verbal critic, the
collator of mouldering manuscripts, the describer of microscopic
objects (labours which may appear to many out of all proportion
to the value of the result), may be preparing the way for the
achievements of some splendid genius, who may combine their
minute details into a magnificent system, or evolve from a mul-
titude of particulars, collected with painful toil, some general
principle destined to illuminate the career of future ages. Tono
one perhaps are the labours of his predecessors, even when they
are apparently trifling or unsuccessful, of more service than to the
metaphysician; and lie who is well acquainted with the science
can scarcely fail to perceive that many of its inquiries are gra-
dually converging to important results. Unallied as they may
appear to present utility, it is not hazarding much to assert that
the world must hereafter be indebted to them fur the extirpation
of many mischievous errors, and the correction of a great part of
those loose and ill-founded opinions by which society is now per-

his banner by him, Then the Prince said to two of | vaded—ssuys cn the Formation and sal 4 nerern

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THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

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[May 28,

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(The Edible Chestnut (Fagus Castanea).—From a Specimen in Greenwich Park .]

THE CHESTNUT.

Tue edible chestnut is not so common a tree as the
horse-chestnut, with which it is often confounded, and
both Gerard and Evelyn treated of the two in the same
chapter. The former tree is more nearly allied to
the , and was classed by Linnzus in the same
order; but the flowers are differently formed, and the
nut of the former is farinaceous, while the beech nut
is oily. In the system of modern naturalists the sweet
chestnut constitutes a distinct genus. The leaves are
long, terminating in a point, with the edges indented,
and of arich shining green, and the flowers are of a
greenish-yellow. The nut is surrounded by a husk
strongly armed with prickles. The chestnut was
brought from Sardis, in Asia Minor, and planted in
Greece several centuries before the Christian era.
The Romans obtained it from the Greeks, and called
its fruit the Sardis nut. With the extension of the
Roman empire the chestnut was introduced into
most parts of Europe. A controversy was carried on
during the last century, as to whether the edible chest-
nut was indigenous in England, but it appears to have
been determined in the negative. It is most abundant
in the south of France, in Switzerland, and particu-
larly in Spain and Italy, and is generally found on
slopes where the corn-lands terminate. The wild
chestnuts on Mount AZtna are some of them of stupen-
dous size, and one measured by Brydone was found to
be two hundred and four feet in girth. It appeared
as if the trunks of five distinct trees had grown
together, but on closer examination there seemed
reason to believe that they were once united. This

tree bears the name of Cast del cento cavallo, on
account, as they say, of its being capable of sheltering
a hundred horsemen. The natural region of the chest-
nut is co-extensive with that of the vine, beyond which
limits its fruit does not always arrive at perfection.
It is not found in Denmark, Sweden, or Norway. In
Ireland the fruit does not ripen at all, and but seldom
in Scotland. The quantity of English-grown chestnuts
for sale is comparatively small, the chief supply being
obtained from Spain, from which we import about
thirty thousand bushels annually, paying a du of two
shillings per bushel. The trees which produce the
best fruit are varieties improved by cultivation and
by grafting, and the quality accordingly differs as
widely as the crab from the apple. '

When Evelyn published his ‘Sylva,’ in 1664, the

otato was scarcely known as an article of food, and
bs strongly recommended the cultivation of the chest-
nut for the sake of its fruit, which, he says, is “a lusty
and masculine food for rustics at all times, and of
better nourishment for husbandmen than cole (cab-
bage) and rusty bacon, yea, or beans to boot ;” but, he
observes, “ we give that fruit to our swine in England
which is amongst the delicacies of princes in foreign
countries.” He then describes the different foreign
modes of preparing chestnuts for the table :-—** They
boil them in Italy with their bacon; and in Nad Sik
time they eat them with milk and cheese. The best
tables in France and Italy make them a service, eating
them with salt, in wine, or juice of lemon and sugar,
being first roasted in embers on the chaplet; and
doubtless we might propaga’ their use among our
common people, being a food so cheap and lasting.

1842. ]

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

205

In Italy they boil them in wine, and then smoke them [ ornamental style, and in autumn glows with the
a little ; those of Piedmont add fennel, cinnamon, and | brightest hues of that rich pictorial season. The odoun

nutmeg
Others macerate them in rose-water.
the flour is exceedingly nutritive.” Gerard, in his
‘Herbal,’ published in 1597, says :—‘* Some affirm that

to their wine; but first nigga them. | of the flowers is not considered pleasant b
e bread of | persons, on which account the chestnut should wot be

sonie

pene close to the house. Salvator Rosa has intro-
uced the chestnut into many of the wild-looking

of raw chestnuts dried, and afterwards turned into | scenes which he loved to depict.

meal, there is made a kind of bread, yet it must needs
be that this should be dry and brittle, and hardly con-
cocted ;” and he correctly states that it is not very
digestible. Mr. Loudon, in his ‘ Arboretum,’ has
Siren an account of the present modes of preparing
the chestnut for food in the south of Europe. Besides
the ordinary method of roasting, the flour is made into
cakes, and into a thick porridge and soup. The former,
called Ja galette, “is a species of thick flat cake, which
is made without yest, and baked on a kind of girdle
or iron plate, or on a hot flat stone. It is generally
mixed with milk and a little salt, and is sometimes
made richer by the addition of eggs and butter; and
sometimes, when baked, it is covered with a@ rich
custard before serving.” The porridge termed la
polenta is made exactly in the same manner as oat-
meal porridge, either with milk or water. A mess re-
sembling mashed potatoes is also made by boiling the
chestnuts whole in water with a little salt, until they
become soft. These are the common modes of pre-
ring the chestnut where it constitutes, as in parts of
in, Italy, and the south of France, the ordinary food
of the peasantry, serving as a substitute for bread and
the potato. e confectioners on the Continent make
a sweetmeat of the fruit by first cooking and then
dipping the nuts in clarified sugar. In Paris the street
venders of roasted chestnuts are as numerous as the
sellers of hot baked potatoes in London.

In Evelyn’s time, and long afterwards, it was gene-
rally believed that the timber found in some of our
most ancient buildings was the wood of the chestnut:
in pores quence of this belief it was extensively planted,
and the Society of Arts encouraged its cultivation by
gifts of medals. It is now well ascertained that the
chestnut is of little value for timber, and, unlike other
trees, it is more durable before it has reached maturity
than at any subsequent period. The small quantity of
sapwood in young trees renders it very useful as
coppice-wood. It is true that the chestnut bears some
resemblance to oak timber, and this occasioned the
ancient oak carpentry of old edifices to be mistaken for
chestnut. Mr. Loudon states that the latter may be
distinguished from oak “ by the transverse fibres being
more confused and much less evident to the naked
he It is used for making tables, stools, chairs,
chests, bedsteads, tubs, and vessels for holding liquids,
for which latter purpose it is said to be superior to
other trecs, on account of its neither shrinking nor
swelling. The same quality renders it well ace
for water-pipes. Posts for gatesand fences made from
the wood of trees which had not reached maturity have
lasted longer than the oak. The chestnut is also ex-
tensively used for hop-poles.

In England the chestnut is grown for ornament
rather than use. It flourishes in a deep light loam, in
a sheltered situation, and in about half a century
attains a height of sixty or eighty fect; but after it
has come to maturity, its existence is said to be pro-
longed for several centuries, though it ceases to be
valuable for timber. One of the finest trees in Eng-
land is at ae | Park, near Ripon: it is one hundred
and twelve feet high; at one foot from the ground the
trunk is seven feet four and a half inches in diameter,
and the diameter of the head is isis ate feet six
inches ; but trees of the average size have a stately
and noble appearance, something between the oak and
the ash. The foliage hangs in a loose, graceful, and

il |
¢Leaves and Blossom of the Edible Chestaut.)

ON THE EFFECT OF OIL IN STILLING
WAVES.

Awmonc the statements made by Pliny, in his ‘ Natural
History,’ eighteen centuries ago, was one which has
obtained but little credit until modern times, although
now no longer doubted. It relates to the effect of a
thin stratum of 011 in stilling waves. Pliny mentions
this property as having been known to the divers of
his time; they poured a little oil on the surface of the
water, in order that, by stilling its ripplings, the rays
of light might be better able to penetrate to the bottom.
About seventy years ago the subject was much dis-
cussed by several Fellows of the Royal Society, includ-
ing Dr. Franklin; and subsequent aan ae have
shown that the property in question is familiarly known
to maritime men in different countries. We will first
enumerate a few facts collected from various quarters ;
and then describe some experiments which Franklin
made on the subject. at

Sir Gilfred Lawson, who served in the British army
at the defence of Gibraltar, told Dr. Broworigg that
the fishermen of Gibraltar were accustomed to pour
a little oil on the sea, in order to still its motion, that
they might be enabled to sce the oysters lying at its
bottom: Sir Gilfred had often seen this done. Dr.
Franklin was informed that many of the divers on the
coast of Italy were accustomed to take a little oil in
their mouths before they dived; when they had
descended to a certain depth, they allowed the escape
of the oil, which, rising to the surface by virtue of its
lightness, spread in a thin film, which smoothed the

206 THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

water-ripples, and allowed light to descend to a con-
siderable depth. The fishermen of Lisbon, when
about to return into the river, if they saw before them
too great a surf upon the bar, were accustoined to
empty a bottle or two of oil into the sea, to still the
breakers. Sir John Pringle was informed that the
persons employed in the herring fishery off the coast
of Scotland could see at a distance where the shoals of
herrings were, by the smoothness of the water over
them, occasioned, as he supposed, by some kind of
oiliness proceeding from the bodies of the fish. It has
been observed by the seal-catchers on the coast of
Scotland, that when these animals are devouring a
very oily fish, which they do under water, the waves
above become remarkably smooth.

A passenger to the Eastern ocean ina Dutch ship,
in the year 1770, wrote a letter toa Count Bentinck,
mm which the following statement was given :—* Near
the islands Paul and Amsterdam we met with a storm,
which had nothing particular in it worthy of being
communicated to you, except that the captain found
himself obliged, for greater safety in wearing the ship,
to pour oil into the sea, to prevent the waves breaking
over her; which had an excellent effect, and succeeded
in preserving us. Ashe poured out buta little ata
time, the East India Company owes perhaps its ship
to only six demi-aumes oF olive oil. I was presént
upon deck when this was done ; and I should not have
mentioned this circumstance to you, but that we have
found people here so prejudiced against the experi-
ment, as to make it necessary for the officers on board,
and myself, to give a certificate of the truth on this
head; of which we made no difficulty.”

The incident which first drew Franklin’s attention
to this subject he thus narrates:—‘‘ In 1757, being at
sea in a ficet of ninety-six sail bound against Louis-
bourg, I observed the wakes of two of the ships to be
remarkably smooth, while all the others were ruffled
by the wind, which blew fresh. Being puzzled with
the differing appearance, I at last pointed it out to our
captain, and asked him the meaning of it. ‘The cooks,’
said he, ‘have, I suppose, been just emptying their
greasy water through the scuppers, which has greased
the sides of those ships a little! and this answer he
gave me with an air of some little contempt, as toa
person ignorant of what everybody else knew. In my
own mind J at first slighted his solution, though I was
not able to think of another.”

Franklin, however, was not a man to let such an
inquiry drop till he had arrived at some satisfactory
conclusion. He conversed with maritime persons on
the matter, and found that the effect of oil in stillin
waves was known to many of them. He resolved,
therefore, to make experiments for himself, and se-
lected a pond on Clapham Common as the locality.
He dropped a little oil in the water, and says, “I saw
it spread itself with surprising swiftness upon the
surface, but the effect of smoothing the waves was not
produced; for I had applied it first upon the leeward
side of the pond, where the waves were largest, and
the wind drove my oil back upon the shore. I then
went to the windward side, where they began to form ;
and there the oil, though not more than a tea-spoonful,
produced an instant calm over a space several yards
square, which spread amazingly, and extended itself
gradually till it reached the lee-side, making all that
quarter of the pond, perhaps half an acre, as smooth
as a looking-glass.” He describes the film of oil as
being reduced to such extreme thinness as it spread,
as to give out the prismatic colours, and afterwards to
be quite Invisible except in relation to the stilling
effect which it produced.

After this experiment, Franklin adopted an expe-
dient quite charactcristic of his untiring love of in-

[May 28,

quiry into natural phenomena: he contrived to hollow
out the upper joint of his bamboo walking-stick, and
put a little oil in it whenever he was going into the
country; he was thus enabled to repeat the experi-
ment many times, and always produced similar resulis.
During a visit which he afterwards paid to the cele-
brated Smeaton, Franklin was told by a Mr. Jessop, a
pupil of Smeaton’s, that having thrown into some
water a few flies which had been drowned in a cup con-
taining oil, he was surprised to see the flies presentl
begin to move and rotate rapidly on the water, as if
they were alive, though on examination he found them
to be quite dead. Franklin had before observed that
the oil on the surface of water seems to be endowed
with a kind of repulsive action among its particles,
which acted also on any light substances, such as
straws, leaves, or chips floating on the surface; and
he conceived that the flies rotated in consequence of a
repulsion exerted as the oil oozed from their bodies.
He showed that organised structure had nothing to do
with the matter, for he produced similar movements
by placing on the surface of water small oiled chips
cut into the form of a comma (,); as the oil issued from
the pom of the comma, the chips began to rotate.

The explanation which Franklin offered of the seda-
tive effect of the oil upon waves is very ingenious. Air,
when in motion, in the shape of wind, over the surface
of smooth water, probably rubs, as it were, on that sur-
face, and raises it into wrinkles, which, if the wind con-
tinueS, are the elements of future waves. The sinallest
wave, once raised, does not immediately subside and
leave the neighbouring water quiet; but in subsiding
raises nearly as much of the water next to it, in the
same way as a Stone dropped into water raises a series
of concentric waves around it. As a small power
continually in operation will produce a great effect, so
the small first-raised waves, being continually acted
on by the wind, are, though the wind does not increase
in strength, continually increased in magnitude, rising
higher and extending their basis, so as to include a
vast mass of water in each wave, which in its motion
acts with great violence. This being the mode in
which ordinary waves are formed, Franklin conceived
that when vil is poured on the surface of water, and
retained there by its smaller specific gravity, there is a
repulsive power which drives the particles of oil one
from another, extending them into a film of the
greatest possible tenuity. ‘‘ Now,” says he, “J ima-
gine that the wind blowing over water thus covered
with a film of oil cannot éasily catch upon it, so as to
raise the first wrinkles, but slides over it, and leaves it
smooth as it finds it. It moves a little the oil, indeed,
which, being between it and the water, serves it to
slide with, and prevents friction, as oil does between
those parts of a machine that would otherwise rub hard
together. Hence the oil dropped on the windward
side of a pond proceeds gradually to leeward, as may
be seen by the smoothness it carries with it, quite to the
opposite side ; for the wind being thus prevented from
raising the first wrinkles, that I call the clements of
waves, cannot produce waves, and thus the whole
pond is calmed.” *

Franklin’s practical turn of mind led him to con-
jecture whether this principle might not be applied
where voyagers, desirous of landing at any particular
shore, are prevented from so doing by a violent surf
which breaks on the shore. His idea was that by
sailing to and fro at some distance from a lee-shore,
ie anege reune oil into the sea, the waves might
be so much depressed and lessened before they reached
shore, as to abate the height and violence of the surf,
and permit a landing. Assisted by Sir Joseph Banks,
Dr. Blagden, and Dr. Solander, Franklin made an

* * Phil. Trans.,’ vol. lxiv.

1842.]

experiment on this point at the entrance of Portsmouth
Harbour, nearly opposite Haslar Hospital. A party
Ieft a ship, in the long-boat, and took up a position a
quarter of a mile from the shore, with a wind blowing
towards shore; another party were in the barge at
double that distance from the shore; while a third
party watched the effects from the shore itself. The
experimenters in the barge made trips tov and
fro, of about half a mile each, parallel with the
shore ; pouring oil continually out of a large stone
bottle, through a hole in the cork somewhat larger
than a goose-quill. It was found that the height and
motion of the waves were aot materially lessened ; but
the persons in the long-boat could observe a tract of
smoothed water, extending the whole length of the
distance in which the oil was poured, and gradually
spreading in breadth from the track of the barge
towards the long-boat. This portion of sea was not
levelled, but it was free from the small wrinkles
usually observed on the waves themsclves, and also
totally free from the foam exhibited in similar situa-
tions. The men in a sailing-boat, which happened to
be passing that way, purposely chose that tract which
had been smoothed by the oil, as being more calm
and casy of navigation. Although, therefore, the oil
had not the effect of destroying the waves themselves,
it reduced them to calm and gently swelling undula-
tions. When the wind blows fresh, there are con-
tinually rising on the back of every great wave a
number of small waves, which roughen its surface, and
give the wind akind of hold or purchase to push it
with greater force. It seems pretty evident that oil,
although it cannot stop powerful waves already formed,
which acquire a power of oscillation totally indepen-
dent of the continuance of the wind, will prevent the
formation of the subordinate waves which increase the
bulk and force of the former.

We are not aware whether any recent attempts have
been made to apply this curious principle to any useful

purpose.

ROADS AND ROAD-MAKING IN THE
UNITED STATES.

(From a Correspondent.)

Ir is hardly to be expected in a country so new, com-
paratively, as the United States, where considerably
the larger portion of the present inhabited territory
Was an uninterrupted forest or wilderness half a cen-
tury ago, that the generality of the roads should be as
good and complete as the roads of older, wealthier,
and more densely populated countries.

The earliest made, and consequently the oldest class
of roads in the United States, are the state roads; so
called from their being originally made at the cost of
the respective states through which they pass. A
road of this description will often be found passing
through vast tracts of country wholly uninhabited,
and until a portion of the adjacent country becomes
settled, there are comparatively but few travellers
passing along such lonely routes, so that the roads are
very little injured by the traffic upon them. Indeed
they ure rather looked upon as mere outlcts from one

art of an extensive territory to another, and there-

ore are only presumed to be frequented by persons
whose business imperatively calls them toa distance
from the reclaimed portions of the country. It fre-

uently peppens that one of these roads will intersect
the entire length or breadth of a state ; nor will it pro-
bably be allowed to terminate at the extreme boundary
therecf, for the adjoining state or territory may be
induced to continue the line as far as its limits permit,
and a third and a fourth state may by chance continue
the sarne route.

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

207

The plan adopted in making these roads is not cal-
culated to induce the traveller to frequent them, if
there is not an absolute necessity for his doing so; for
besides grubbing up a few of the largest trees which
nate a to grow along the line, and cutting down the
sinaller trees and brushwood, little more is done than
opening an irregular ditch on either side, and filling
up the holes or inequalities of the surface with the
soil taken therefrom ; the width (which is rarely more
than twelve or fourteen feet) varying according to the
obstacles which may happen to present themselves on
either hand. Where small creeks or streams are fallen
in with, rude wooden bridges are constructed across
them; but when a stream or river of considerable
size interferes with the route, no attempt is made at
throwing a bridge across it, the state authorities pre-
ferring to leave it to the ingenuity of the traveller to
find out some plan of reaching the opposite side.

Since this class of roads has little care or attention
paid at the time of construction, even where one of
them is the least frequented, it is liable, in the course
of a few years, through the action of the frost during
winter, and the washing of heavy rains at other
seasons, to get s0 much out of order as to render it
nearly impassable; while the conduits and bridges,
being constructed of perishable timber, ten or a dozen
years isan abundantly sufficient period for most of them
getting completely out of repair. And since it rarely
happens that the state authorities ever look after them
when once they have been constructed, and as no tolls
are collected, nor taxcs levied to keep them in repair,
it must be obvious that, in the lapse of years, they will
possess few of the attributes of a road, save the original
name.

However, as the lands in the localities through
which such roads pass become taken up, or settled
upon, it is by no means unusual for these roads, or
sections of them, to be taken possession of by the in-
habitants, repaired, and converted into township roads—
a class of roads made and maintained by the respective
townships through which they pass, and for the making
or improving of which the inhabitants of each town-
ship voluntarily tax themselves. But since cash in
most new countries or settlements is a scarce article,
the road-taxes are usually paid in a specificd amount
of labour performed annually upon one or other of the
roads intersecting the township in which an occupier’s
farm is situated, who is moreover commonly allowed
to work out his tax upon the particular line of road
with which his lands are most immediately connected.
These roads are, however, for the most part, but mere
passable tracts; especially in the newer sections of
the states, being made ata small expense, the condition
of the settlers not allowing of much outlay upon roads,
either in the form of money or labour.

Considering the great extent of country, there are
comparatively few turnpike-roads in any part of the
United States, and only one of any considcrable extent,
belonging to the nation at large. The road here
alluded to is the line of turnpike commencing at the
City of Washington, and from thence running westward
through a portion of Virginia, thence across the Ohio
river, and so traversing the several intervening states
lying between that river and the Mississippi. It is
called the Great Western, or National Turnpike Road,
and is undoubtedly the greatest undertaking of the
sort in America. But the various states, individually,
have entered more or less into the spirit of road-making,
and as these roads (except the state roads already spoken
of) come under the denomination of turnpikes, a
separate notice becomes necessary.

Turnptke-roads—that is, such roads as toll-bars or
toll-gates are established upon, at which tulls are col-
lected—aye never made in the United States, except

208

under an express act or charter from the legislature of
the respective state to which these roads belong.
During the last quarter of a century or more, In most
parts of the Union, the people have been unceasingly
clamorous for what is commonly designated “internal
improvements.” These comprehend the construction
of canals and the improvement of the channels of
crecks and rivers, as well as the making of turnpike
and rail roads. Some of these undertakings are per-
formed exclusively at the expense of the state, while
others—and particularly the roads—have been com-
monly undertaken by companies who subscribe a portion
of the stock, the state government holding the remain-
ing shares, or insome cases making considerable grants
of the public money in order to induce individuals and
companies to enter into such hazardous undertakings.
In this way most of these public works have been
brought into the state which they are found at present ;
and notwithstanding many of them h aiecea great
advantages to the sections of country rough which
they pass, by presenting facilities for conveying the
yroduce of the country to market, receiving merchan-
ise in return, and for travelling, yet at the same time
they become such heavy burdens to the states which have
supplied the funds for the completion of the works, as
to threaten several of them with ruin, or at least a
condition closely bordering upon patria ae
It is not a little surprising that through many of the
older and more populous districts, and on routes con-
neeting some of the principal citics, the roads are still
in a very poor condition, few of them being anything
more than township roads; and where turnpike trusts
exist, they are but little better, since few of these are
macadamised, or made after the manner we find them
in England. Indeed, when it is stated that on few of
the lines of turnpike-reads which have been made, even
in portions of the country where the ground is rough
and” hilly, has the cost of making exceeded ten or
twelve hundred dollars per mile (frum 2002. to 2404.
sterling), and this too where wages are very high, it
will be readily perccived that they cannot be very
perfect or finishe performances, The mode of making
them is this :—where the ground is free from trees and
stumps, the whole of the site of the intended road is
ploughed up lengthwise, or in the direction it runs,
and afterwards harrowed and the large stones picked
out. The soil towards the extreme sides is then
moved towards the centre, by employing an implement
called a scraper, and then the sides and ditches are
again ploughed with a powerful team of oxen, and the
soil and subsoil thus loosened is again scraped towards
the centre or crown of the road. After the arched
mound of earth has been raised a pecaber in this
way, and the whole has been rendered tolerably smooth
by means of hand-hoes, the work is considered finished.
But in the forests the trees have first to be grubbed
up, and the immense roots rolled out of the way ‘on
either side; when the soil is afterwards loosened by
ploughing, as has already been stated. But a stronger
plough and a more powerful team are necessary under
such circumstances than where there were neither
trees nor stumps, for even after the trees have been
grubbed up, the entire space is intersected with roots
of various sizes, which are serious obstacles in the
way of a plough, and often require a team of six,
eight, or ten oxen to perform the task. In many situa-
tions the ground is so marshy and wet, that the soft
nature of it will not admit of any traffic passing over
jt, and instead of using better and more durable ma-
terials, the forest-trees are cut into proper lengths,
and then, without any hewing, squaring, or even
barking, laid side by side—crosswise on the line of
road—and thus form what is called the corduroy plan
of road-making. Sometimes a little soil is brought

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

[May 23, 1842

from wherever it can be had, to fill up the hollows
between the arches of the logs, but this is commonly
soon worn or washed away, when the logs present a
wearisome succession of narrow ridges to the unfor-
tunate traveller. The traveller is indeed unfortunate
who has to journey over several miles of “corduroy
turnpike,” since it is with difficulty that the nimble-
footed horses bred in the new settlements manage to
perambulate several miles of this description of road
without many a false step and stumble; while it is
still worse where any sort of vehicle with wheels is
employed, since the continual severe jolting is almost
sufficient to dislocate the bones, unless they be more
firmly united than is ordinarily the case.

Very few of these turnpike-roads are enabled, by
the toile collected upon them, to be kept in tolerable
repair ; aud still fewer yield any dividends to the state
or other stock-holders. Indeed it is nothing un-
common to meet with roads of this description that
have been so injudiciously laid out, or so wreichedly
constructed, that in a few years after their first being
opened they have become so thoroughly out of re-
pair, that the toll-gates have been taken away and the
roads thrown open, so that every farthing of money
expended upon them has been sacrificed by those who
were at the expense of inaking them.

The principle upon which the collecting of tolls is
founded. as regards the turnpike-roads in the United
State, is different from, and certainly more equitable
than, the plan which generally obtains in this country.
There the charge is so much per mile for the distance
travelled ; while here a specified sum is claimed for
passing through the toll-bar, no matter whether the
traveller has used one mile or twenty miles of the road
upon which the toll-bar is erected. For instance, a
fariner or any other person residing four miles on one
side of the turnpike-gate, will, in all probability, on
reaching the place of collection, be recognised by the
collector, and his deinand, without any further inquiry,
would be neither more nor less than the small frac-
tional sum, whatever it might be, that the toll upon
the four iniles of road came to. But if a stranger
presented himself, he would be asked how far he had
travelled by that line of road, and if he could make it
satisfactorily apparent that he had used it only from
some point within a mile or two of the toll-bar, the small
sum covering that short distance would be all which
he would be required to pay. If, on the contrary, it
appeared that the stranger traveller had used the
whole extent of road for which the collector could
lawfully demand toll, the full amount would then be
insisted upon. It is true that toll-collectors are to some
extent liable to imposition under such a regulation,
but on the whole it 1s devoid of the severe compulsion
attendant upon our own system of taking the full
amount of toll where parties travel very short dis
tances upon such lines of road; nor does the custom
obtain of allowing the same parties to travel through
the gate a dozen times or more in the same day for
once paying toll, as is the plan with most of the
turnpike trusts in England.

During three or four months, or while hard frosts
continue and snow remains upon the ground, so that
sleighs or eledges are in general use in the place of
wheel-carriages, many of the turnpike tolls in the
Northern and Eastern states produce but vey little
on which, at other seasons of the year, a tolerable
amount is usually collected. This 1s in consequence
of the frost and a thick covering of snow hiding all
imperfections in the township and bye roads, so that
most persons—at least such as are familiar with the
localities through which such roads pass—preter
ene mile or two out of their way in order to
avoid the payment of a few cents,

SUPPLEMENT. ]

THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 209

A DAY AT A LEATHER-FACTORY.

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(Neckinger Mills Leather-Manufactory, Bermondsey.)

THe subject of the present article takes us toa part
of the metropolis remarkably distinguished for its
manufacturing features. Bermondsey has been for
many years the principal seat of the leather-manu-
facture in England, and derives from this circum-
stance a character and appearance different from those
presented by any other district in London. The cause
to which this localization seems to be most correctly
assigned, is the existence in Bermondsey of a series of
tide-streams which, twice in every twenty-four hours,
supply a large quantity of water for the use of the
tanners and leather-dressers. The construction of Ar-
tesian wells has now in some measure diminished the
employment of the water from these streams; but the
streams still remain, and are still employed by many
of the manufacturers. |

The processes involved in the fabrication of leather,
although in many respects remarkable and interesting,
are very little understood beyond the circle of manu-
facturers and dealers. It is generally known that the
avocations of the tanner, the currier, the fellmonger,
the tawer, the leather-dresser, all relate in some way
or other to the preparation of leather; but the relation
which these employments bear one to another is not
so well understood. The establishment to which our
visit has been made for the purpose of this article, is
connected with the production of some only of the
various kinds of leather; but we hope to be able to
give a general outline of the manufacture as a whole.

Leather has been designated by Dr. Ure as “ the
skin of animals, so modified by chemical means as to
have become unalterable by the external agents which
tend to decompose it in its natural state.” The gela-
tinous portion of the skin is made to combine with

No. 652.

chemical substances artificially applied, and by this
combination the new substance, leather, is produced.
The ingredients employed for the conyersion of skin
into leather are different in different cases, and give
rise to various subdivisions of employment in the
leather-manufacture. The classification of the dif-
ferent kinds of leather might be made according to
the animals whence the skins were obtained, or ac-
cording to the thickness and quality of the skins, or
according to the purposes to which the prepared lea-
ther is to be applied; but we think that the purpose
of the present article will be better answered by
making a classification according to the mode of ma-
nufacture ; and we shall therefore speak of leather as
prepared—Ist, by oak-bark ; 2nd, by sumach; 3rd, by
alum; and 4th, by oi: these four varieties being re-
markably distinguished one from another.

The leather prepared by igri with oak-bark is
the hide of the ox, the calf, and the horse, all of which
ossess sufficient firmness to be applied to the manu-
acture of shoes, harness, and other articles requiring
great strength and durability, The skins prepared by
a substance called sumach are principally those of the
goat and the sheep; and the leather resulting from
the process is morocco leather, for coach-linings, chair-
covers, book-binding, ladies’ shoes, &c. ; roan for shoes,
slippers, and common book-binding ; and-skiver, an
inferior leather, for hat-linings, pocket-books, work-
boxes, toys, and other cheap Bead ie The. skins
dressed in. alum are principally those of the kid,
the sheep, the lamb, and in some instances the calf;
and the Neaiher produced is principally employed for
gloves and ladies’ shoes. Lastly, the skins dressed
in ot? are those of the sheep, the buck, and the doe,

Vou. XI.—2 E
eid

210 THE PENNY
and the resulting leatner 1s tnat of which riding-gloves
and similar articles are made, as well as the soft wash-
leather, or shamoy leather, familiar to every-one.

Although the processes whereby these varieties of
leather are produced differ very distinctly one from
another, yet the establishments wherein they are con-
ducted present a generally similar appearance. The
tan-yards and leather-manufactories of Bermondsey
each present to the view of a stranger an open court
or yard surrounded or partially surrounded by build-
ings, some of which are so constructed as to admit the
access of air to every part of the interior. The surface
of the court or yard is in most cases intersected by pits,
or square cisterns, in which the skins are steeped
during some part of the manufacturing process. All
bear a general resemblance, tog, in two circumstances
not altogether attractive to visitors, viz., the presence
of unpleasant odours, and the absence of cleanliness.

1. Leather prepared by Tanning.—When an ox has
been slaughtered, the hide removed, and the flesh
transferred to the butcher, the hide is sold to the
tanner, by him to be converted into the thicker kinds
of leather. The hide passes into his hands with the
horns attached; and he separates these from the hide,
and sells them to the comb-makers and other manufac-
turers of horn. The hair is also attached to the hide,
but the removal of this is a more difficult operation.

When the hide is purchased by the tanner, there are
little bits of flesh, &c. adhering to the inner surface;
and these are removed by a process called ‘ fleshing.’
The hide is spread out over a convex wooden bench
called a ‘beam,’ and is then scraped with knives of a
peculiar shape, by which all extraneous matters are
removed, and the hide is pared down to the cutis.
After this process the hair is to be removed, and this
is effected in one of two ways, according to the nature
of the skin. One method consists in mixing together
quick-lime and water, and immersing the hide in the
solution; after remaining there several days, and
having the lime-water renewed occasionally, the bulb-
ous roots of the hair have become so far loosened by
the action of the lime, as to be easily pulled out. The
hide is then spread out on the beam, and ‘unhaired,’
that is, scraped with a knife till the hair is removed.
In the other method, adopted in some kinds of skins
which would be injured by the action of lime, several
skins or hides are placed in a close .chamber, where
they undergo a kind of natural fermentation, sufficient
to loosen the hair from the skin.

When by either of these methods the hair has been
removed, the .hide is ‘grained,’ or scraped, and then
subjected to a process whereby the pores are opened
and prepared for the reception of the tan afterwards
to be applied. In some cases this consists in steeping
the hide for some days in a sour solution of rye or
barley flour ; in others, the bath is a very weak solu-
tion of sulphuric acid in water. The hide becomes
swollen, aotiened, and the pores ready prepared for the
reception of the tan.

The bark, the roots, and occasionally the leaves of
a considerable number of plants yield, by soaking in
water, an astringent solution, usually of a yellowish
brown colour. This solution has a peculiar action on
the living skin, corrugating and constringeing it; and
when applied to dead skin, has the property of con-
verting it into leather. These vegetable substances
contain a principle called tannin, which is the agent
concerned in converting skin into leather. Provided
the tannin is obtained, it matters not much to the suc-
cess of the process what substance yields it; and the
tanner, therefore, employs that which is, on the whole,
the most effective and the most economical.

To detail the various systems adopted by different
tanners would be wholly foreign to our purpose. The

MAGAZINE. (May, 1842.
process 1s so slow a one, and the desirability of increased
speed so great, that patent after patent is taken out on
the subject; and almost ey tanner has some process
eculiar to his own establishment. We must, there-
ore, be as general as possible in our few details.
When the hide is properly cleaned and brought to the
state called ‘ pelt, it is ready to be placed in one of
the tan-pits. These pits are generally rectangular
cisterns, whose upper edge is level with the ground,
and whose interior is lined with wood. The tanning
ingredient, generally oak-bark, is steeped in the
cistern of water, and the solution is then technically
termed ‘ooze.’ The hide is in the first instance put
into a pit containing nearly-spent ooze, in which hides
have already been, steeped, and which has consequent]
lost more or Jess of its tanning principle. In this pit
the hide is frequently stirred and turned to ensure the
equable action of the tan on every part. The hide
is then transferred to a pit containing stronger ooze,
or else is stratified with crushed bark; several hides
being laid one on another, and steeped in watcr.
Whether the hides be placed at once in prepared
solution of bark, or be stratified with bark in a pit
containing water, depends upon the system of tan-
ning pursued by the manufacturer, and upon the
quality of the hide; but in either case the hides are
exposed to renewed portions of the tanning ingredient
from time to time, until the tannin has combined in-
timately with the animal substance. In most tanneries
several months are consumed in this process of steeping
in the tan-pits; and although numerous patents have
been granted for improved and more expeditious
processes, the limited extent to which these are adopted
seems to show that there is some advantage attorded
by lengthened time, not altogether attained by the
speedier tba This is a point on which we
cannot enlarge here: it must suffice to say that the
object of tanning, whether by a slow or a speedy
process, is to cause the tanning principle to penctrate
into all the pores of the hide from surface to surface :
when this is effected, the hide has become transformed
into leather. When the hide is tanned, it is hung up
in an airy loft, or drying-room ; and during the process
of drying is compressed by heating, by pressure with
a steel instrument, or by being passed between rollers,
which gives ita smooth and dense texture.

The stoutest hides, from bulls, buffaloes, oxen, and
cows, are tanned in a way more or less resembling
that above detailed, and are then used principally for
the soles of boots and shocs. The time employed in
tanning a hide for the soles of men's boots in general
is from six to twelve months; while a still thicker
quality, known as ‘ butts’ or ‘ backs,’ frequently con-
sumes fifteen or eighteen months in the process. The
skins of calves, seals, and the lighter kinds of horse
and cow skins, are tanned to form the ‘ upper leathers’
of boots and shoes, and are prepared in a somewhat
similar, but more expeditious manner. After having
been ‘unhaired,’ they are steeped for eight or ten
days in an alkaline liquor, being at intervals taken
out and scraped on both surfaces, by which the lime, oil,
and gelatinous matter are forced out from between the
pores, and the skin rendered soft, pliant, and fit to
receive the tanning ingredient. They are then exposed
to the action of tan in the tan-pits until converted
into leather.

Leather intended for the upper parts of boots and
shoes, for saddlers, and for coach-makers, passcs into
the hands of the currier after tanning, for the purpose
of being softened, equalized in thickness, smoothed,
blacked, &c. The currier dips the tanned skin in
water to moisten it, and then softens the texture by
beating it with a ‘mace:’ this instrument consists of a
wooden handle two or three feet long, with a cubical

SUPPLEMENT. |

head at one end. He then places the skin on an in-
clined plane called a ‘horse,’ and equalizes the thick-
ness by the aid of a broad, straight, two-handled knife,
called a ‘cleaner,’ which is worked in such a manner
as to shave off the superfluous thicknesses of the skin.
After this the leather is thrown again into water, and
rubbed on the grain or outer side with pumice or
grit-stone; whereby the ‘bloom,’ a whitish matter de-
rived from the action of the bark, is removed. The
leather is then rendered flexible by being rubbed, first
on one side and then on the other, with an instrument
called a ‘pommel,’ consisting of a piece of wood fast-
ened to the hand by a strap on one side, and having
on the under surface a number of art grooves,
which have the effect of bringing the leather to a high
state of flexibility. The leather is again scraped with
a broad knife, to equalize its thickness and texture.
Then, according to the quality of the leather, and the
purposes to which it is to be applied, it is dressed with
oil, with oil and lampblack, with tallow, &c.; and is
polished with rubbers of hard wood.

2. Leather prepared with Sumach.—We now come
to those varieties of leather which will enable us to
refer more particularly to the establishment selected
for our visit on this occasion. The manufactory
known as the Neckinger Mills in Bermondsey, owned
by the Messrs. Bevington, is one in which nearly all
the kinds of leather prepared with sumach, alum, or
oil are manufactured. Those gentlemen have kindly
allowed us to witness all the processes carried on
therein, and we proceed at once to give a general idca
of the place and of its arrangements.

In proceeding from Bermondsey Old Church to-
wards the Greenwich Railway, along the Neckinger
Road, we arrive at the Neckinger Mills, at a short
distance westward of the railway; indeed, the latter
passes through part of the ground formerly belonging
tothe manufactory. The term ‘mills’ is applied be-
cause the premises were once occupied by a company
formed for the manufacture of paper from straw, and
were then known as paper-mills; the water for the
manufacture being supplied by the Neckinger tide-
stream, which flows past the building twice a-day from
the Thames. About forty years ago the spot became a
leather-manufactory, but the term Neckinger Mills
continues to be applied to it.

On entering the gates which form the communica-
tion from the high road to the factory, we find our-
selves in the open yard represented in the frontispiece.
In various parts of this yard are pits, some rectangular
and some circular, used not as tan-pits for tannin
skins, but as lime-pits for loosening the hair and wool.
Here and there are men employed in ‘drawing,’ or
lifting out the partially limed skins, and in transferring
them from place to place. Southward of this yard is
another occupied principally by lime-pits similar to
the others, and by lines whercon wetted skins are
hanging to dry. Around the large or principal yard
are ranges of buildings employed for various purposes.
In one range are extensive ware-rooms for finished
leather of the morocco kind; in another the white
Icather is contained; over these are drying-lofts, in
which the skins are hung ata certain stage in their
manufacture. In another part of the premises are the
vessels for tanning skins with sumach; ina third the
dye-house, where the morocco leathers are dyed; in
others are three or four leather-splitting machines,
fulling-stocks for shamoy leather, a rotating vessel for
alumed leather, and various other arrangements, of
which we shall speak presently. The large quantity
of water employed in the several branches of the
manufacture, and the necessarily dirty processes in-
volved, keep the greater 1 et of the buildings in a
wet and sloppy state; and the existence of several

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

211

dozens of cisterns or pits in the open yards render
necessary soine little circumspection in the steps of a
visitor: indeed this circumspection is desirable on
more accounts than one, for there is a sort of ‘stand-
ing order’ among the workmen, that although an
immersion in one of the pits is open to any one, the
extrication from it is valued at half-a crown.

The most important leather prepared by tanning
with sumach is the morocco leather made from goat-
skins. The term ‘Morocco’ is probably derived from
the country of that name, but we are not aware whe-
ther this species of leather was originally manufac-
tured there. Be this as it may, the finer kinds of
morocco leather, employed for coach-linings, chair-
covers, &c., are prepared from goat-skins; while the
inferior or ‘imitation’ morocco, applied to purposes
wherein cheapness is desired, is made from shcep-skin.
Morocco is familiarly known to most persons as a
glossy coloured leather, whose surface presents a
wrinkled and fibrous appearance; and we perhaps
cannot better illustrate the process of preparing lea-
ther by sumach than by tracing the manufacture of
this variety.

The goat-skins employed for this purpose are im-
ported from various parts of the world—Switzerland,
Germany, Memel, Mogadore in Northern Africa, the
East Indies, the Cape of Good Hope, Asia Minor, and
other places. The skins from some places are pre-
ferred on account of their thickness or good quality ;
from others on account of their size; while others are
purchased according to the supply which may happen
to be in the market. The skins are imported with the
hair on, and to remove this is one of the first processes
of the manufacture. The goat-skinsare first soaked in
water for several days to soften them, and then undergo
the process of ‘ breaking,’ that is, scraping them on the
flesh side to remove the adherent substances which would
interfere with the process of tanning. The ‘ are
and other scraps obtained in processes similar to this
are placed on open racks or stages exposed to the air,
and when dry are sold to the manufacturers of glue
and size; as are likewise the fleshings and other scra
from the thicker hides and skins prepared by the
tanner. ,

Into the lime-pits before noticed a solution of lime
in water is conveyed, and the goat-skins, after being
fleshed, are allowed to soak therein for four or five
weeks. During this time they are frequently ‘drawn.

{* Drawing’ Goat-skins.)}

\
a process repregented in the annexed cut, and consist-
ing in taking the skins out of the pit, laying them in

a heap on the side, allowing them to lie thus for a
certain time, and immersing them agen : 2 this has

212 THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

the effect of causing the lime to act equally on every
part of the hairy covering, and the lime-water is re-
newed once or twice, to aid in producing the desired
effect.

When the liming has been carried to such an ex-
tent that the hair can be easily pulled out with the
finger, the goat-skins are drawn from the pies and
conveyed in wheelbarrows to the ‘ fleshing-shop,’ one
of the buildings in the western part of the premises.
In this shop are a number of ‘beams,’ as they are
called, consisting of convex work-benches or stools
sloping downwards from one end to the other, and
supported on a frame or stand. Each goat-skin is
laid smoothly on a ‘ beam,’ with the hairy side upper-
most; and the workman, standing at the upper end of
the beam, scrapes off all the hair by means of a double-
handled knife. The convex form of the surface on
which the skin is laid, and the peculiar form given to
the knife, enable the workman to take off all the hair
very completely. The operations of ‘ fleshing,’ of
‘unhairing,’ and of ‘ graining, are so nearly alike in

[Unhairing a Goat-skin. ]

their general appearance, that the annexed cut will
sufficiently show the character of the whole; the prin-
cipal difference being in the edge of the knife em-
ployed by the workman. The hair which is thus
removed from the goat-skins is, after being cleansed,
sold to the carpet-manufacturers and to plasterers.
After the process of ‘unhairing,’ the goat-skins are
again soaked in lime-water for two or three days, and
are then again ‘fleshed,’ or scraped on the inner
surface, by which the cutis’ is brought to a tolerably
clean state. But the long steéping which the skin
has undergone has had the efféet of driving the lime
into the porés, insomuch that the tanning principle
contained In the sumach, afterwards to be applied,
cannot reach the heart of the skin. The tanning,
therefore, cannot be commenced until the lime is re-
moved and the pores opened. ‘The means adopted for
effecting this are by far the most disagreeable in the
whole range of the manufacture. A solution called the
‘pure’ or the ‘pewer’ (haying never seen the word
written or printed, we must a it as pronounced), is
prepared in a large vessel, and into this the skins are
immersed; there ig an alkaline quality in the solution
employed, which has the effect of removing the lime
from the pores, and the manufacturers seem to have
failed hitherto in“finding more than one substance
which yields this quality effectually. Whether che-
fnistry may hereafter afford them a more extensive
range it 1s not for us to say, but such would seem to
be at least probable. After being ‘pured’ for some
time, the skins are taken out and scraped well on both

[May, 1842.

sides, for the sake of removing as much of the lime
and the albumen as may be removable by these
means; and after this they are doa gi again.

By these operations the pores of the goat-skin are
30 far opened and cleared as to prepare them for the
reception of the tanning principle. The substance
employed in tanning stout hides is, as we before ex
plained, oak-bark; but for goat-skins the tanning
ingredient is a vegetable substance called swmach.
This is the powder of the leaves, peduncles, and
young branches of a plant called the RAus coriaria,
growing in Sicily, Italy, and Hungary. It is one
of the substances'expcerimented on by Sir H. Davy
in his inquiry into the tanning properties of various
bodies; and he found it to contain a large pro-
portion of tannin. It contains also a light =
matter, which seems to render it useful for the tanning
of light-coloured leathers. It is employed extensively
in dyeing, as well as in leather-dressing. In the
sumach tan-houses at Messrs. Bevington’s we saw a
pile of this substance, just as imported from Sicily, in
cloth bags containing about one cwt. each: when the
bags are opened, the sumach appears as a fine yellow
powder.

The manner in which this tanning ingredient is
forced into the pores of the goat-skin is exceedingly
curious. The sumach is mixed with water; but if the
skins were immersed indiscriminately in the solution,
or even laid smoothly one on another. the sumach
would not act equally on the whole surface. To

roduce the desired equalit ‘of action, the follow-
ing singular plan is adopted:—The wet goat-skins
are taken from the ‘pure,’ or alkaline solution, and
sewn up by women into bags, cach skin forming a
bag with the grain side outwards, and having no
opening except a small one at that part which had
formed the hind shank of the animal. These bags,
as soon as made, are thrown into a vessel of water,
and examined, to see that they are well sewn up,
and free from holes. They are then taken to the
sumach-tub, where the process represented in the

(Sumach Tan-tub.),

annexed cut iscarried on. A large shallow circular
tub, twelve or fifteen feet in diameter, is filled with
hot water containing a little sumach, and near itisa
smaller vessel containing a strong solution of sumach
in water. Two men and a boy, standing on one side
of the tub, then fill the bags with the sumach-
solution thus: the boy takes a bag, and inserts into
its mouth the stem of a funnel, the mouth of which
is uppermost. One of the men then nearly fills the
bag, through the funnel, with the solution, which he
ladles from the smaller tub, The other man takes the
bag from the funnel, and by a peculiar action of the
breath fills with wind the remaining portion of the
interior, and ties up the mouth with string. The air
has the effect of distending the bag until quite fre¢

SuPPLEMENT. |

from wrinkles, and also of causing it to float in water.
All the bags, after being thus filled, are thrown into
the large vessel, and are kept there about three hours,
occasionally stirred and moved about with a wooden
instrument. The effect of this arrangement is, that
the solution of sumach contained within each bag is
enabled to exert its full action onthe skin in an
equable manner, and to penetrate entirely through
the substance. The thickness of these goat-skins
is so very much less than that of the hides formerly
described as being tanned by oak-bark, that the
tanning principle of the sumach, aided by a certain
temperature in the skin and the solution, is cnabled
to produce its effect in a few hours. The sumach-
tubs present a singular appearance when three or four
dozen inflated goat-skins are floating about jn fhe
contained liquor. |

Once during the process of sumaching the skins are
removed from the tub and placed ona rack or per-
forated bench at the side; they are heaped one on
another, and by their own weight press all the sumach
solution through the pores. Another sumaching and
another pressing complete the operation.

The bags are next removed to another building,
where the seams are loosened, the bags opened, and
the sediment remaining from the sumach removed
from the inside; this sediment, which often consists
principally of yellow sand nefariously mixed with the
sumach before it leaves Sicily, is of no further use in
leather-dressing, and is taken away to be used as
manure. The goat-skins, after being thoroughly
washed, are laid out smooth on a sloping board, and
‘struck,’ that is, scraped and rubbed out as smooth as

ssible. Jn this smooth state the skins are hung up
ina loft, and when thoroughly dried they are said to be
‘in the crust.’

The skins are then nearly ready for the process of
dyeing. It is generally known that most morocco
leathers present beautiful and vivid colours, and to
produce these the skins have to undergo a very careful
process of dyeing. The drying in the loft has had the
_ effect of shrivelling the cine in some degree ; to
obviate which, and to prepare them for the reception
of the dye, the skins are wetted, and ‘struck out,’ or
smoothed again. The dye-house presents those general
features which, whether the substance to be dyed be
cloth or leather, are observable in such places. At
Messrs. Bevington’s the dye-house contains five coppers
for the reception of hot-water or logwood-solution ;
square tanks for containing the dye ; frames whereon
to suspend the skins in various solutions; and other
similar arrangements. As many of the ingredients
used in dyeing are costly, and as the finished leather
is intended to be seen only on one surface, it is cus-
tomary to lay two skins in close contact before dyeing,
so that the dye-liquor may not be wasted by acting on
both surfaces of each. e dyeing ingredients em-
proved, the number of immersions which the skins
undergo, the changes in the solutions to which the
skins are exposed, and the time employed in the
various parts of the process, are points involving
much practical skill, and on which we can say but
little. Thecrimson, the scarlet, the pone the indigo
morocco-leather, al] require particular modes of treat-
ment, arising from the qualities of the dyeing ingre-
dients used.

After the dyeing, the skins undergo two or three
processes of rubbing, which seem to act somewhat on
the principle of currying, by giving a softness and
pliability to the leather. This is a] pageeal the case
in the finishing process, by which the wrinkled ap-
pearance is given to the material. Every one knows
that the coloured surface of morocco leather has the
appearance of having been indented all over by an in-

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

213

strument sharp enough to leaye permanent depres-
sions, but not so sharp as to cut the Jeather. This
effect is produced on the smooth goat-skin thus:—
The workman lays the skin on a sloping bench, with
the dyed surface uppermost, and rubs it forcibly
with a ball made of some hard wood, such as box.
The ball is about the size of asmall lemon, and has
on its surface a number of fine parallel grooves. As
the ball is worked over the leather in the direction of
these grooves, it leaves permanent marks thereon, and
thus gives rise to the appearance which distinguishes
morocco from all other kinds of leather. Nothing
can exceed the beauty and flexibility of the morocco
Jeather made from the finest goat-skins: the finishing
of the grooved ball makes it very pliable, while the
nature of the skin itself gives it great durability and
toughness. In the morocco wareroom at the Neckinger
Mills the vivid colours displayed show also that this
ae of leather is susceptible of receiving a beautiful

We have before stated that there is an inferior kind
of morocco leather, made of sheep-skin. This, under
the name of ‘imitation’ morocco, is latgely used for
inferior or economical purposes; and though it is in-
ferior to the other kind in suppleness and durability, its
superficial appearance is very nearly equal: indeed it
is to this latter fact, combined with greater cheapness,
that we may attribute its extensive manufacture. In
the manufacture of morocco leather from sheep-skins
there are not many points of difference from the
analogous manufacture from goat-skins; but it will
be necessary to speak briefly of the different states in
which the skins come into the hands of the leather-
dresser. |

There are in Bermondsey about twenty or thirt
manufacturers called fellmongers, whose business it
is to bring sheep-skins into a certain state of prepara-
tion before the leather-dresser commences his opera-
tions thereon. The skins from nearly all the sheep
slaughtered in London are ‘cdnveyed to a skin-market
in the western part of Bermondsey, and there sold by
factors or salesmen, who act for the butchers, to the
fellmongers. The skins are bought and sold with the
wool on, and the labours of the fellmonger relate to
the separation of the one from the other, and the dis-

osal of the wool to thé woolstaplers, most of whom
ive also in Bermondsey, and the ‘ pelts’ or stripped
skins to the leather-dressers and the carehmiene Waker:
The trade of a fellmonger is more dirty and disagree-
able than even that of a leather-dresser, on account of
the mode necessary to be adopted for the separation of
the wool from the pelt. These remarks, so far as the
leather-dresser is concerned, apply otily to sheep-skins,
for the skins of the goat, the kid, the buck, the doe, and
one or two other kinds of animals which have a hairy
rather than a woolly cévéring, come into his hands
before the hair has been removed’; and the process of
‘unhairing’ is then effected.

In the manufacture of sheep-skins into ‘imitation’
morocco, and into roan ‘leather, a routine of operations
occurs not very different from that sketched above.
Both kinds are prepared by sumach-tanning ; and the
preparatory and subsequent processes are for the most

rt similar to those necessary for goat-skin morocco.

ere are, however, one or two points of difference
which must be noticed. The skin of the sheep, from
the organization which promotes the rapid growth of
wool, contains a much larger amount of grease, or
oleaginous matter, than the skin of the goat; aud it is
essential that this be removed before the tanning prin-
ciple is brought to act upon the skin. To effect this,
the skins, shortly before being placed in the sumach-
tan, are subjected to the action of a hydrostatic-press,
which by a pressure of many tons forces out the extra-

214

neous inatters from the pores of the skin. The kind
of leather called ‘ roan’ does not present the wrinkled
or grained appearance of morocco leather, a difference
which results from the different mode of finishing
after the dyeing; the grooved balls not being used for
the roan leathers.

The kind of sheep-skin leather called ‘skiver,’ used
for common bookbinding, hat-linings, pocket-books,
work-box covers, and other cheap purposes, deserves
notice for a process the most remarkable, in a mecha-
nical point of view, which the Neckinger establish-
ment presents; we mean the ‘splitting’ of a skin into
two thinner skins. Thin asa sheep-skin is, and supple
when wetted, it might be thought that the operation
of splitting or slicing it into halves, without cutting
holes in cither, would be an impossible task; yet this
is effected with the utmost accuracy. We have seen,
at a large tannery in Bermondsey, a machine for
splitting hides; but the small thickness of a sheep-
skin requires peculiar arrangements for effecting a
similar bisection. The object aimed at in this ope-
ration is twofold, viz., to obtain a thin kind of leather
for some purposes for which a sheep-skin in the natural
state would be too thick, and to obtain a quality of
leather which could be sold at a lower price than that
made from whole skin. The principle of the machine
is this :—Two rollers, ranged horizontally in a frame,
are made to rotate in opposite directions, the vacancy
between them being only just sufficient to admit a
soft wetted sheep-skin or pelt. The rotation of the
rollers causes the skins to be drawn slowly between
them; but it cannot doso without encountering the
blade of a very sharp knife, which has a reciprocating
horizontal motion, in such a positiqn as to cut the skin
into two thicknesses as it passes the knife, one-half
passing over, and the other under the blade. A most

(Leather-splitting Machine.)

ingenious contrivance is adopted for yiclding to any
inequalities which may occur in the skin. One of the
rollers is made in several pieces, so adjusted that in
passing over any thickened portions of the skin the
common aperture between the rollers is widened at
that part. It is one of the consequences of the con-
struction of the machine, that one of the semi-thick-
nesses or sections must be equable and level in every

rt, while any incqualities which might have existed
in the original skin will be thrown into the other sec-
tion. Either section, the ‘grain’ side or the ‘flesh’
side, may have this equable thickness given to it,
according to the mode in which the skin is adjusted on
the rollers; and the two portions may have various

THE PENNY MAGAZINE

[May, 1842.

ratios given to their thicknesses, according to the
pommep of the vibrating knife opposite the opening

etween the rollers, These machines, of which there
are three or four in the Neckinger factory, were
patented by the Pepe several ycars ago, and
exhibit very beautiful mechanical arrangements. A
sheep-skin of the usual size occupies about two mi-
nutes in splitting, during which time the knife makes
from two to three thousand vibratory motions to and
fro, cutting a minute portion of the skin at each move-
ment. The preceding cut represents a sheep-skin
undergoing the process of splitting in one of these
machines.

As the thin ‘skivers’ are more readily acted on by
the sumach tan than the thicker goat-skins, they are
not sewn up into bags like the latter, but are im-
mersed in the sumach-tub in an open state, and are
tanned in a very short space of time. The subsequent
peter require less delicacy than in the preparation

morocco leather, and do not call for much remark.

Among the varieties of leather tanned with sumach

is the ‘enamelled leather,’ now occasionally employed
for ladics’ shoes. This is made of seal-skin or thin
calf-skin, coated, after tanning, with a peculiar kind
_ varnish or japan capable of yielding a brilliant
gloss.

3. Leather prepared with Alum.—The technical name
of ‘tawing’ is frequently applied to the general
routine of operations whereby alumed leather is pro-
duced. This variety of leather 1s in many cases left white

Oo
Oo

or undyed, and has a peculiar softness when finished.

The skins which undergo the process of ‘ tawing’ are
those of the kid, the sheep, and the lamb; the first-
named of which yield the well-known ‘ kid leather’ of
which gloves and ladies’ shoes are made; while the
white leather made from sheep-skin is used for lining
shoes and other inferior purposes. The cheap kid
gloves which are displayed in the shop-window of the
hosier are generally made from lamb-skin, and may
be considered as an imitation kid.

The kid-skins which form the staple of this branch of
the manufacture are brought from Italy: they are very
small in size,and have the hairon. The first operation
to which they are subjected is steeping for the space
of three days, by which they become svaked and
softened: they are then ‘broken’ on the flesh side, a

rocess resembling that to which goat-skins are sub-

jected: the skin is laid on a beam or convex bench,

with the flesh side uppermost, and is then scraped:
this seems to facilitate the action of the lime in the
next process. After the ‘ breaking,’ the kid-skin is
immersed in lime-water in a pit for about fourteen or
sixteen days, by which the hair becomes in some
measure loosened from the pelt; and at the end of this
period the operation of ‘ unhairing’ is effected in the
same manner as for goat-skins. In a few days after
this process the skin 1s ‘ fleshed,’ to procure a clean
surface on the inner side, and after this the pores are
opened and the lime ‘killed’ (to use atechnical term).

his opening of the pores is effected not by the
alkaline solution called the ‘ pure,’ as in goat-skin
dressing, but by steeping the skin in a solution or
‘drench’ of bran and water. When this is effected,
the skin is laid down on the ‘beam’ with the grain-
side uppermost, and ‘ struck,’ or forcibly worked with
a knife, whereby the impurities are worked out
froin within the pores. After a further steeping for a
day or two in bran and water, the skin is in astate to
undergo that process which constitutes the principal
difference between sumached leather and alumed
leather. Instead of being sewn up into bags filled
with sumach liquor, and immersed in a tub of hot
water, the skins are put into a kind of barrel called a
‘roundabout :’ this Farrel has a door or opening in

SuprieMENt. |

one part of its curved surface, through which the
skins are placed; and when the water and ingredients
are added, the door is closed, and the barrel made to
rotate rapidly. The effect of the rotation is to cause
the impregnated liqudr to act intimately on every aes
of the skin. The substances placed in the barrel to
act on this skin are, for the commoner kinds of leather,
alum and salt; and for the better kinds, alum, salt,
flour, and yolk of eggs: these latter ingredients are
for the most part absorbed into the substance of the
finer kid leathers, and seem to have the effect of im-
parting that beautiful softness and plumpness which
such leather presents. About twelve pounds of alum
and a little more of common salt are sufficient for
about two hundred skins. Sometimes the skins are
not put into the ‘roundabout,’ but are merely steeped
in the solution in an open tub: whether the one or
the other plan be adopted, however, a period of five
minutes is sufficient to produce the effect. In that
part of the ‘tawing’ process wherein eggs are employed,
the eggs are broken, in the proportion of one to each
skin, and the yolks only are mixed with water and a
little meal in a tub: the skins are then introduced,
and are trampled by the naked feet of a man until the
egg has been thoroughly imbibed. The eggs em-
ployed for this process are imported from France:
sixty or seventy thousand are purchased for the Nec-
kinger factory every spring, and are preserved in
lime-water till wanted, a mode by which they may be
kept perfectly sweet for two years.

The tawed skins, after being hung up in a POft to
dry, are stretched out, smoothed, and softened, by the
process of ‘staking,’ represented in the annexed cut.

Awe y

&
wl

**Staking* tawed leather.)

In one of the upper rooms of the establishment are a
number of wooden blocks, having at the upper end a
steel instrument, shaped somewhat like a cheese-cutter,
but not having a very sharp edge. Over the semi-
circular edge of this instrument each skin is drawn
very forcibly, the workman holding it in both hands,
and scraping the surface in various directions on the
steel edge. This has the effect of stretching out the
skin to its full extent, and of removing all the rigidity
and stiffness which it had acquired in the previous
processes. This is, indeed, one of the many processes
of violent rubbing, scraping, or friction to which every
kind of leather is more or less subject in the progress
of manufacture ; but in this instance the Tubing is
effected when the leather is nearly in a dry state.

For the production of ‘imitation’ kid leathers the
skin of lambs is employed ; and for this Ba Poa lamb-
skins are imported from the shores of the Mediterra-

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

215

nean. They are imported with the wool yet on them,
and as this wool is valuable, the leather-manufacturer
carefully removes this before the operations on the
elt commence. The wool is of a quality which would
greatly injured by the contact of lime; and there-
fore a kind of natural fermentation is brought about
as a means of loosening the wool from the pelt. At
the Neckinger establishment, one of the buildings
resents, on the ground-floor, a flight of stone steps
eading down to a range of subterranean vaults, or
close-rooms, into which the lamb-skins are introduced,
In a wet state, after having been steeped in water,
‘broken’ on the flesh side, and drained. The tempera-
ture of these rooms is nearly the same all the year
round, a result obtained by having them excluded as
much as possible from the variations of external tem-
poate: and the result is that the skins undergo a
ind of putrefactive or fermenting process, by which the
wool becomes loosened from the pelt. During this
chemical change, ammonia is evolved in great abund-
ance: the odour is strong and disagreeable; a lighted
candle, if introduced, would be instantly extinguished,
and injurious effects would be experienced by a person
remaining long in one of the rooms. Each room is
about ten feet square, and is provided with rails and
bars whereon to hang the lamb-skins. The doors from
all the rooms open into one common passage or
vault, and are kept close except when the skins are
inspected. It is a point of much nicety to determine
when the fermentation has proceeded to such an
extent as to loosen the wool from the pelt; for if it be
allowed to proceed beyond that stage, the pelt itself
would become injured.

When the fermentation is completed, generally in
about five days, the skins are removed to a beain and
there ‘slimed,’ that is, scraped on the flesh side to
remove a slimy substance which exudes from the pores.
The wool is then taken off, cleaned, and sold to the
hatters for making the bodies of common hats. The
stripped pelts are steeped in lime-water for abouta
week, to ‘kill’ the grease, and are next ‘fleshed’ on
the beam. After being placed in a ‘drench,’ or solu-
tion of sour bran, for some days, to remove the lime
and open the pores, the skins are alumed and subjected
to nearly the same processes as the true kid-skins.
These Mediterranean lamb-skins do not in general
measure more than about twenty inches by twelve ;
and each one furnishes leather for two pairs of small
gloves. These kinds of leather generally leave the
leather-dresser in a white state ; but undergo a process
of dyeing, softening, ‘striking,’ &c., before being cut
up into gloves.

There are a few other kinds of skins prepared by
aluming, but the general routine of processes is pretty
much the same as herein described.

4. Leather prepared with Oil.— The ‘killing’ of the
animal quality of skins (if we may use such an ex-
preedion): whereby the skins are converted into leather,
seems to consist In forcing out from the pores some
albuminous substance, and replacing it with a sub-
stance of another kind. Thus in tanning hides, the
tannin penetrates into the substance of the skin and
combines therewith ; in sumaching, the larger portion
of the sumach does the same thing; so do the alum,
salt, egg, and mcal in tawed leather; and lastly, so
does the oil in the kind of leather now to be noticed.

That variety of leather called chamois, chammy,
shammy, shammoy, shamoy, or shamoyed, which is the
characteristic of oil-leathers generally, was originally
a beautifully soft leather prepared from the skin of the
chamois goat. A similar mode of manufacture is now
adopted for sheep and other skins, but the name of
chamois, modified in the eg toa strange degree,
is still applied to the leather produced. Mr. Aikin,

216

in one of his lectures before the Society of Arts, made
the following statement in reference to shamoyed
leather :—‘ Till a few years ago, there was an immense
aun of the skins of sheep, goats, and deer shamoyed
in England. Breeches of this article, either white or
dyed, were commonly worn by persons whose occupa-
tions or amusements led thein to be much on horse-
back. They were worn by most of the cavalry of
Europe; and the English shamoyed leather, being of
extraordinary goud quality, was employed in clothing
not only our troops, but the cavalry of Prussia, Austria,
and most of the other German states. In the cain-
paigns in Spain during the last war, it was discovered
y the British commander that the health of the horse-
soldiers was seriously affected in wet weather by the
leather that they wore, which, fitting close to the skin
and being long in drying, chilled the nen and rendered
them liable to rheumatism and other diseases. Woollen
cloth was accordingly substituted; and the example
having been followed by Austria and Prussia, this
change has occasioned a great decline in that branch of
the English leather-trade.” ;

The shamoy leather, whether of the superior kind
just alluded to, or of that more humble description
known as ‘wash-leather,’ is prepared nearly as fol-
lows :—The deer and sheep skins undergo the earlier
stages of preparation nearly in the same manner as for
other kinds of leather, such as washing, liming, beam-
ing, &c. It must be remarked, however, that the in-
ferior or thinner kinds are generally made of split
skins, the more irregular of the two halves, generally
the flesh side, being used for this purpose ; the other
half being alumed or tawed for ‘skiver’ leather.
In eenerall oil-leathers have the ‘grain’ surface of the
skin entirely removed before any oil is applied; as
this removal not only affords a inuch softer surface,
but greatly increases the extensibility of the leather,
which still remains ye enty strong and elastic for
the purposes to which it is applied. This ‘ frizing,’ or
removal of the grain, is effected either by the edge of
a round knife or a rubber of pumice-stone.

The lime and other obstructions to the porosity of
the skin having been removed by steeping in sour
bran and water, the skins are ure or pressed as dry
as possible, and are then ready for the reception of the
oil. This is forced into the pores in a curious inanner.
In one of the buildings of Messrs. Bevington’s esta-
blishment are two pairs of ‘ fulling-stocks,’ such as

[Oil-Leather Fulling-Stocks.]

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

(May, 1842,

| are represented in the preceding cut, and somewhat

resembling those used in the wollen manufacture.
Each pair consists of two stocks, which may be likened
to heavy wooden hammers; the head, covered with
copper, being attached to a long beam or handle lying
in an inclined position. Near the lower end of each
a wheel revolves, by which each hammer is in turn
lifted up and let fall again, through a space of about a
foot. This they do in a kind of trough, so that any
substances which may be placed in the bottom of the
trough receive a blow from each stock every time it
descends. The upper or handle end of each stock is
so adjusted as to work on a pivot or axis.

Into the trough connected with these fulling-stocks
the leather is placed ; the stocks are set in action ; and
the leather is beaten alternately by one and the other
until rendered as dry as possible. Cod-oil is then

oured on the skins in the fulling-machine, and this is
orcibly driven into the pores of the skins by another
lengthened beating with the stocks. The trough is so
formed in an arc or curve, that as the stocks beat the
skins, the Jatter become turned gradually over and over,
mnereDy every part of each is exposed to the operation.
When the oil is beaten in, the skins are removed, shaken
out fiat, hung out in the air to dry,
fulling-mill, supplied with fresh of and subjected toa
renewed fulling with the stocks. Again and again is
this repeated; oil being poured on the skins in small
quantity, and then beaten into the pores by means of
the gtocks. This occurs as many as eight or nine
times, oil being added each time, and well beaten in,
until two or three gallons of oil have been tmbibed by
one hundred skins.

When the oil is thus forced into th2 heart of the
skins, they are placed ih large tubs, where thev undergo
a kind of fermenting process, by which a more intimate
action of the oil upon the fibres seems to be induced.
These tubs are placed ip one of the ‘ower buildings
near the fulling-stocks ; and from them the skins, now
converted into shamoy leather, are removed, to be im-
mersed in a weak solution of potash. This latter pro-
cess is intended to remove whatever excess of oil may
have remained in the leather. After being hung up
to dry in the open air, the leather is finished.

again put into the

Thus have we endeavoured to, give an outline of a
manufacture which is supposed to rank fourth in the
kingdom, being only excelled in importance by those
of cotton, wool, and iron. The quantity of hides and
skins converted into leathey_ yearly in England is al-
most incredibly large; at, Messrs. .Bevington’s esta-
blishment alone there are dbout two liundred and
fifty thousand skins annually conyetted into leather
by the aluming or tawing process, two hundred and
twenty thousand by the sumach-tanning process, as well
as a sinall number by the oil-dressing process. This
circumstance marks the importance and extent of the
leather-manufacture, respecting which Dr. Campbell,
in his ‘Political State of Great Britain,’ makes the
following striking remark:—‘“If we look abroad on
the instruments of husbandry, on the implements
used in most mechanic trades, on the structure of a
multitude of engines and machines; or if we con-
template at home the necessary parts of our clothing
—shves, boots, and gloves—or the furniture of our
houses, the books on our shelves, the harness of our
horses, and even the substance of our carriages,— what
do we see but instances of human industry exerted
upon leather? What an aptitude has this single ma-
terial in a variety of circumstances for the relief of
our necessities, and supplying conveniences in every
state and stage of life? Without it, or even without
it in the plenty we have it, to what difficulties should
we be exposed !”

June 4, 1842.]

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

217

“3 J

’ é - ; + ft i
rite i ' y) eee
; ) I
segit | }
Pt {au i 9 ¥'
y a e cS So :

[Terrace Cultivation.]

CULTIVATION OF MOUNTAINOUS
DISTRICTS.

THE cut at the head of this notice will undeceive such
of our readers as are accustomed to associate the idea
of almost universal barrenness with a mountainous
country. Here they see the mountain slopes cultivated
with the utmost care to their very summit; and unless
such labours were repaid by the fruitfuluess of the soil,
we may feel assured that they would soon be applied
in some other direction. Jt must be recollected that
the soil of many of the most fertile valleys consists for
the most part of accumulated material, washed down
from the mountains by the rains, after having pre-
viously become softened and decomposed by the action
of the elements. In many instances where the dis-
integration of rocks and mountains is constantly going
on, the matter is hurried down by torrents to the rivers
and carried out into the sea. By forming terraces on
the mountain sides the decomposed substance is stopped
in its descent and accumulates sufficiently to forma
series of long narrow gardens. In warm climates, if
water can be procured, these patches are enriched and
beautified by a luxurious vegetation, and the cultivators
are amply repaid for their ingenuity and industry.
The scarcity of good land or comparative security from
oppression may have led in the first instance to this
mode of cultivation. While the cultivator of the
plains, in countries subject to oppression of all kinds, is
constantly exposed to pillage, the mountaineer enjoys
a higher degree of security, which is at once evident
in the superior industry by which he renders the
barren rock fruitful.

In Syria the traveller is frequently delighted at the
mahner in which cultivation creeps up the hills. The
couniry consists almost wholly of mountain ranges.
He rises from the valley to the hills only to descend
again into the valley, and is constantly rising and
descending in his passage through the country. He
sces villages perched on the mountain sides, which

No. 693.

Volney describes “as if ready to glide from the steep
declivities on which they are built, and so disposed that
the terraced roofs of one row of houses serve as a street
to the row above them.” Occasionally the terraced
side of a mountain, with its mulberry-trees and vines,
becoming detached by asudden thaw, does slide into
the valley below. On one of these occassions a law-
suit arose between the proprietor of the ground in the
valley and the owners of the land-slip; but the emir
caused both parties to be indemnified for their mutual
losses. Soil is so scarce in some parts of the country,
that the garden of a conyent, situated in a very sterile
district, near Mount Horeb, is supplied with earth
brought all the way from Egypt on the backs of
camels. Here we may expect to find terraced cultiva-
tion most assiduously practised, and under the Turkish
rule there are political reasons also which render the
heart of the mountains a better field for industry than
more accessible places. The seaward slopes of the
mountains are in general cultivable, while the eastern
slopes, towards the desert, are usually barren. The
inaccessible parts of the former are often covered with
firs, larches, oaks, box-trees, laurels, yews, myrtle
and a variety of wild shrubs, and contain springs o
excellent water, the rills from which irrigate the cul -
tivated part of the slope. Here the mulberry, the
olive, the vine, the fig, and other plants useful to man-
are planted, and every inch of ground is turned to
account,

The appearance of a country which is thus ‘culti-
vated is extremely beautiful and interesting, and the
variety of plants which flourish on a small but
constantly ascending surface, is much greater than
where it is spread out horizontally, as some thrive
only at a certain elevation, and could scarcely be pro-
duced in hot plains. Dr. Clarke was struck with the
highest admiration at the beautiful appearance of the
terrace cultivation, and the industry which had made
itso. He says—“ The road was mountainous, rocky, |
and full of loose stones; yet the cultivation was every- —

Vou. XI.—2 F

218 THE PENNY
where marvellous: it afforded one of the most striking
scenes of human industry which it is possible to be-
hold. The limestone rocks and stony vaileys of Judea
were entirely covered with plantations of figs, vines,
and olive-trees; not a single spot seemed to be neg-
Iected. The hills, from their bases to their utmost
summits, were ever spread with gardens; all of which
were free from weeds, and in the highest state of cul-
tivation. Even the sides of the most barren moun-
tains had been rendered fertile by being divided into
terraces, like steps, rising one above the other, upon
which soil had been accumulated with astonishing
labour. Atong the standing crops we noticed millet,
cotton, linseed, and tobacco; and occasionally small
ficlds of barley. <A sight of this territory can alone
convey an idea of its surprising produce. It is truly
the Eden of the East, rejoicing in the abundance of
its wealth. Under a wise and beneficent government
the produce of the Holy Land would exceed all cal-
culation.”

There is also in Syria and ney other mountainous
countries a singular variation of climate in places
adjacent to each other, and which is productive of
corresponding differences in the vegetation of the
country. Volney has placed this fact in an interesting
point of view: “Syria (he says) unites different cli-
mates under the same sky, and collects within a narrow
compass pleasures and productions which nature has
elsewhere dispersed at great distances of time and

laces. With us, for instance, seasons are separated

y months; there we may say they are only separated
by hours. IF in Saide or Tripoli we are incommoded
by the heats of July, in six hours we are in the neigh-
bouring mountains, in the temperature of March; or,
on the other hand, if chilled by the frosts of December,
at Besharri, a day's journey brings us back to the
coast amid the flowers of May. The Arabian poets
have therefore said that the Sannin (the highest summit
of Lebanon) bears winter on his head, spring on his
shoulders, and autumn in his bosom; while summer
lies sleeping at his fect.”

The mulberry-tree has latterly become so profitable
as to constitute a most important source of wealth to
the whole country of the Druzes, by the quantity of
silk which it enables them to produce. The price of
silk has doubled within the last twelve or fourteen
years, during which the cultivation of the mulberry
has been constantly extending; not only to the exclu-
sion of other trees, but even of garden produce. This,
at least, is the case at Beirout, which derives its prin-
cipal supp’y of garden vegetables from Sidon, whence
they are brought by the peasants of the surrounding
country.

SUFFERINGS OF THE PARTY COMPOSING
CAPTAIN GREY’S EXPEDITION OF DIS-
COVERY IN WESTERN AUSTRALIA.

Tne history of colonization, and the progress of dis-
covery in the great island or continent of Australia,
are both subjects of great interest. The interior is
still a terra incognita, but sufficient is known to clear
up former misconceptions. When the Blue Moun.
tains behind Sydney were first passed, and the rivers
were found to pursue a westerly course, it was con-
cluded that the waters were not, as in ordinary cases,
discharged into the ocean; but found their way into a
vast lake in the interior, the land dipping inward to-
wards such mediterranean sea, instead of inclining
froin the central parts towards the coast. This erro-
neous view has been dissipated by the researches of
wed pe Sturt and others within the last twenty ycars ;
an several others, equally incorrect, have been re-
moved in consequence of the additions which have

MAGAZINE. [Jung 4,
been made to our knowledge of the country. We
have still much to icarn in this quarter, and while the
chance of new discoveries of any importance on the
ocean are very problematical, there is a vast field open
to the aspirant after geographical honours in the Aus-
tralian continent. The dangers and difficulties to be
surmounted are of no ordinary kind, and not to be
lightly thought of by the most daring ; and nu man of
intelligence, however bold and enterprising, will think
lightly of them. Among the recent names which have
acquired an honourable distinction in achieving the
objects of geographical science in Australia, is that of
George Grey, Esq., late a captain in the army, and
now governor of South Australia. He left the Swan
River, in Western Australia, in February 17, 1840,
with a view to examine and survey the parts of the
western coast between the parallel of 32° and that of
24° south, the object of the expedition being also the
exploration of such parts of the coast as appeared to
be worthy of particular notice. The party were con-
veyed to Shark’s Bay in an American whaler, where
they were to be left with three whaling-boats, and
provisions for five months, One of the boats was soon
swamped; and on the 20th of March, after having
endured much suffering, they returned to the depét of
provisions on Reriner Talan , when, to their conster-
nation, it was found that in consequence of the heavy
gales the sea had washed over the island and destroyed
the provisions, which had been buried in the sand in
an apparently secure place. Two men belonging to
the at instantly abandoning all discipline, began
seizing the scanty remains of the stores on the beach ;
but this outbreak was promptly repressed. The whole
party were already in a very weak state; the boats
were leaky; and Captain Grcy determined to make
for Swan River. On reaching Gantheaume Bay, in .
about 28}° south latitude, both boats were wrecked in
a tremendous surf. We propose accompanying Cap-
tain Grey and his party from this point to Perth.

The boats were wrecked on the Ist of April, and
though, from the effect of previous hardships, Captain
Grey doubted if the men retained sufficient strength
for such a task, there was no resource left as a means
of preserving their lives than that of walking to Perth,
distant three hundred miles in a direct line; but
which, of course, could not be reached without many
deviations occasioned by hills and other obstacles.
The party consisted of twelve individuals, including
Captain Grey, and Kaiber, a native; and on dividing
their stock of provisions, each man received twenty
pounds of sour flour, which only necessity could in-
duce them to eat, and one pound of salt.

On the 2nd of April the expedition started, the plan
being to walk an hour, and then halt for ten minutes.
In these intervals Captain Grey took notes and en-
tered the bearings of the route in his journal, which
he scrupulously kept from first to last. Many of the
men had loaded themselves with various articles taken
from the boats, in the hope of making something b
selling them at Perth, and this burden scriously adde
to their difficulties, even in the first day’s journey. A
thick scrub was passed through with great exertion.

On the 3rd, after a scanty breakfast, the party set off
at daylight, and, during the day, had to pass through
an almost impenetrable scrub, which occupied two
hours and a half, and left them in an exhausted state.
Still the men encumbered with heavy bundles could
not be induced to abandon them.

The events of the 4th fully developed the difficulties
of the expedition. Only twelve miles were performed
during the whole day, and yet, though they were in a
country well supplied with water, this was accom-
plished with the greatest difficulty. Captam Grey

‘was harasecd by the physical cxertion of getting the

1842. ]

men to move by earnest remonstrance and entreaties,
but they still persisted in carrying their useless
burdens, and their conversation ran upon what they
would realize from them. A proposal was now made
that they should rest a day or two, and then proceed ;
but Captain Grey foresaw that if they did not push on
while they had some strength remaining, they would
infallibly be lost; and most of the future difticulties
of the journey are attributable to those who were de-
termined to act upon the plan of travelling only a few
miles a day, with occasional halts for a day or two.
The enjoyment of present ease and rest was more
powerful than the fear of future hardships; and Cap-
tain Grey had no other course but to submit to the
majority.

5th.—This day and the previous one the party were
moving through a tract of conntry so different in
character from most parts of Australia, that it seemed
as if they were on another continent, the points of
difference in this district being “in its geological
characters, in the elevation of its mountains, which lie
close to the sea-coast, in the fertility of its soil, and the
density of its native population.” They encountered
some of the natives, and their situation becoming
critical, Captain Grey, intending to intimidate then
_ by firing over their heads, pulled the trigger of his
gun, which unfortunately did not go off, on which the
natives redoubled their gestures of insult, imitating
with derision the snapping of the gun which had
missed fire. Captain Grey then fired the other barrel
over their heads, but they were still scarcely dismayed,
and he now fired his rifle at a heap of closely-matted
dead bushes two or three yards to the right of their
main body, and as the dry boughs cracked and flew
an all directions, the natives at length took to their

eels.

6th.—Most of the party had not more than seven or
eight pounds of flour, which was in a state of fermen-
tation. Again Captain ety pointed out the necessity
of expedition, but very little progress was made, and
one man compelled the party to stop for him every
five minutes ; and, on halting, the men could not be
roused for three hours. They still carried their booty
from the wreck. The dogged determination to pro-
ceed by short marches and long halts had already
been attended with such disastrous effects, that Captain
Grey from this day abandoned the hope of getting tlie
party safely into the settled districts.

7th.—They were gradually ascending an elevated
range, the summit of which Captain Grey was the
first to reach, the men with their uscless property toil-
ing after him. He states that he should have “hated
the tyranny of any man who could have compelled
them to carry such a weight.” Being certain that the
district they were now in was one of the finest in
Australia, with a great number of streams, an elevated
coast frontage, and a large extent of fertile land, diver-
sified with rich valleys, gently swelling hills, and pic-

turesque wooded peaks, he named it the Province:

of Victoria. A lofty chain of mountains, about twenty
or twenty-five miles eastward, he called the Victoria
Range. The party passed the night in as “fine an
amphitheatre of verdant land as the eye of man has
ever gazed upon.” The view was bounded by the
Victoria Range ; and seaward, through a romantic glen,
was scen the great Indian Ocean. One of the men,
Stiles, was found to be missing, and though he had
purposely remained behind, search was immediately
made for him by some of the exhausted party; but the
night passed without his being found.

8th.—The search for Stiles was resumed, and this
perverse man, whose conduct had endangered the
safely of all the others, was at le.gth discovered, and
they proceeded on their journey, but made little or

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

219

no progress. Some of the men ‘sullenly laid down,
being dissatisfied with Captain Grey's plan of moving
ease onward, and he was at length obliged to
alt.
9th.—A man named Woods, a principal supporter of
the eight or nine miles a-day system, caused great
delay by insisting upon sitting down every half mile.
Under these discouraging circumstances the party had
to pass througha thick belt of trees, which they ac-
complished with great difficulty, Captain Grey
wished the men to procecd about five miles, to a point
where he expected water would be found, for which they
were much distressed, but could not rouse them. Ina
the course of the afternoon he got them to advance
about a mile and a half, but farther they would not
go, neither would they part with their bundles. Some
of the best walkers were at length induced to accom-
pany Captain Grey in search of water, which was
found after a circuitous walk of seven miles.
10th.—Those who had been in search of water rejoined
the rest, bringing a supply for them, and the journey
was resumed ; but Woods soon delayed their progress, ’
As he was now really ill, Captain Grey took up his
bundle, and promising to pay him the full value of it
on reaching Perth, proceeded to open it amidst a
torrent of abuse, the poor man alternately deploring
with tears his dying state and the loss ofshis property.
The contents were “three yards of thick heavy can-
vas; some duck, which he had purloined; a large roll
of sewing thread, ditto; athick pea-jacket, which I had
abandoned at the boats, and had, at his request, given
to him; and various other old pieccs of canvas and
duck; also a great part of the cordage of one of the
boats, which he had taken without permission.”’ For
these contemptible articles this foolish fellow had risked
not only his own life, but those of the whole party, who
had frequently to halt on his account. They had now
been seven days on their route, had advanced about
seventy miles, and were still two hundred and thirty
niles from Perth, direct distance. Some were entirely
destitute of provisions, and none had more than six or
seven pounds of flour left. Captain Grey's stock
consisted of one pound and a half of flour and half a
ound of arrow-root, and the native was dependent on
in for food. The whole party were in a much weaker
State; the time was passed for reaching the settled dis-
tricts by forced marches; and the majority werc still
for advancing slowly, with frequent halts to recruit
their strength. In this critical situation, Captain Grey
determined to push on for Perth with the strongest
men and best walkers, promising to send provisions
for the rest to a place fifty-five miles north of Perth.
His party consisted of himself, the native, and four
other nen, and six were left behind who pursucd the
favourite system of halting.
1lth—We now accompany Captain Grey's party.
After a wearisome walk over small hills covered with
prickly scrub, they came to a thickly-matied wood,
which required the greatest exertion to induce the men
to push through. In great distress for want of water,
they reached the dry bed of a river, three hundred
yards wide, and forty or fifty feet deep, which at cer-
tain seasons appeared to be subject to heavy floods,
but was now a vast channel of white sand, painful to
the eyes to look upon: but on scraping a hole in the .
sand, water trickled into it, Captain Grey's last pound
of flour was made into a “ damper,” and he supped on
aspoonful of arrow-root. In the night arat gnawed
through his canvas bag, and eat halt the damper, anid
his whole stock of provisions consisted of the reinatnder,
and three table-spoonsful of arrow-root.

{To be continred.]

2F2

220

THE PENNY MAGAZINE. .-

SARC ESAS AE UAAY Gis
TS 2 Ts he! ———

[JUNE 4,

Nag, :

| “aX - 2 i j
Ab 8) RR Ppa ee
pi lf Sf ha . Sop
i) Ms) igista. any
‘pained

A Se, Baka) eRe

-_——

(‘‘ With a new-fangled lady, that is dainty, nice, aud spare,
Who never knew what belonged to good housekeeping or care."’]

THE OLD AND YOUNG COURTIER.—No. VI.
THE NEW HALL.

Tue Paston Letters* afford us some curious informa-
tion as to housekeeping in general, and also as to the
domestic education of the daughters of genteel families,
ata period earlier than that of the production of the
ballad we are considering, but more accordant with
the description there given than that of ‘the time
assigned by the song. From the reign of Henry VI.
downward, the growth of commerce, the destruction
of the aristocratic families by the civil wars, and the
long peace enjoyed during the reigns of Henry VII.
and Henry VIL .. had most materially altered the
character of domestic establishments. The “twenty
old fellows in blue coats and badges” were fast disap-
pearing before the accession of Elizabeth, and were
chiefly employed at court, or on occasions of great
ceremony only. At the earlier period, these retainers
were kept as a means of political influence, and were
too often the instruments of the grossest outrage and
injustice, of which, the work we have just mentioned
contains several instances of a most violent character,
and Shakspere has represented a similar state of society
in his ‘Henry VI.,’ in the contest between the Duke
of Gloucester’s and Cardinal Beaufort’s “old fellows.”

* The Paston Letters, A new edition, by A, Ramsay, 2 vols,

Nor was, probably, the payment of their money-wages
quite so easy or such a matter-of-course affair as we
are told by the ballad-writer. The great Earl of
Warwick has a letter in the Paston collection ur-
gently soliciting a loan of 20/., pledging his knight-
hood for its repayment; and the burden of a great
part of the epistles in the work is the want of ready
money. The inconvenience of these “ old fellows
had been long seriously felt, and many prohibitions
had been enacted against them, even from the time of
Richard II. downward. Exceptions were, however,
allowed, and under this cloak they were continued,
and even expected on state occasions, such as when
wailing on the king in his pragresses. On the visit
of Edward IV. to Norfolk, Sir John Paston had to

ovide twenty liveried retainers, and the Duke of
Jorfolk two hundred; but in the reign of Henry VII.
the Earl of Oxford having received that monarch with
a numerous retinue, that severe and politic monarch
inflicted the full amount of the legal fine upon him
for his trangression. ;

These serving-men were, however, still kept up for
state. Dr. Donne, who was born in 1573, and who
wrote his satires during the latter part of the reign of
Elizabeth, speaks in them of

a velvet justice, with a long a
Great train of blue-coats, twelve or fourteen strong

—~>
f°

f oY f
tnitignn A, & wh PG OBS
igitized by NIKI

a / a fo
\
a

1S42.]

And in the comedy of * Wit without Moncy,’ by Beau-
wont and Fletcher, about 1625, the opinions ot Valen-
tine, one of the characters, are thus described :—

“ No gentleman that has estate, to use it
In keeping house or followers, for those ways
He cries against, for eating sins, dull surfeits,
Cramming of serving-men, mustering of beggars,
Maintaining hospitals for kites and curs,
Grounding their fat faiths upon old country proverbs ;
God bless the founders! These he would have vented
Into more manly uses, wit, aud carriage.”

These opinions, though exaggerated, were doubtless
held by many.

Under the old system “the care” of “ good house-
keeping” was a matter of no small importance. It
was necessary to usc a wise foresight, as even articles
now of the most conimon use were then only to be
procured in London. Sugar, honey, figs, even pewter
vessels and candlesticks, with many other articles, are
inentioned in the ‘ Paston Letters’ as not procurable in
Norwich. When making provision for Lent, Margaret
Paston writes to her husband, “As for herring. I have
bought a horse-load for 4s. 6d.; I can get none cels
yet.” To prepare young ladies for sucha care, they
were sent to the houses of friends of a superior rank,
to learn the domestic economy of a large houschold.
Sir John Heveningham wishes to place a niece with
Margaret Paston, and he says, “I will content ye for
her board, that ye be well pleased.” The daughter of
Aenes Paston was placed with Lady Pole, the dowager
of the Duke of Suffolk, and upon her marriage she
writes to her mother requesting her, “as to my Lady
Pool, with whom I sojourned, that ye will be my
tender and good mother, that she may be paid for all
the costs done to me before my marriage.” All ladies
but those of the very highest rank seem to have
occupied themselves in at least the active superin-
tendence of all houschold operations, from the pickling
of beeves and hogs for their daily consumption, to the
preparation of distilled waters or ointments as medica-
ments for their own families or their neighbours.

The alteration in this state of manners, which had
been gradually taking place, had no doubt produced
a striking contrast by the time of James. The exten-
sion of printing had also elevated the standard of
mental accomplishments among the female scx to a
very considerable degree, and ladies distinguished
for their learning were by no means uncommon,

articularly while stimulated by the example of Eliza-
Beth, But luxury, with its attendants, folly and
fashion, no doubt lowered the moral tone of the
female character, and prevented the general elevation
of its mental development during the reign of James,
We are not, therefore, to be surprised at the repre-
sentations we receive of female manners and pursuits
under the influence of a court so wanting in the
decorum and strictness which had marked tifat of the
preceding one. We find a most complete picture of
this change in Shirley’s ‘Lady of Pleasure,’ a play
which, though not produced till 1635, under the reign
of Charles I., may be taken rather as indicating the
manners of the previous reign, or at least not an
exaggeration of them. In this drama the young and
handsome wile of a country gentleman, a knight, has
insisted on coming to London, to enjoy its pleasures,
and avoid the dulness of the country, which she thus
describes :—
“ T would not

Endure again the country conversation,

Tu be the lady of six shires! The mea

So near the primitive making, they retain

A sense of nothing but the earth: their brains

And barren beads standing as much in wait

Of plougbing as their ground. To hear a fellow

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

eal

Make himself merry, and his horse, with whistling
Sellinger’s Round! To observe with what solemnity
They keep their wakes, and throw for pewter candlesticks !
How they become the morris, with whose bells

They ring all in to Whitsun-ales; and sweat,

Through twenty scarfs and napkins, till the hobby-horse
Tires, and the maid Marian, dissolv’d to a jelly,

Be kept for spoon-meat !”’

Ilere are the old simple sports, with which luxury
and fashion had become dissatisfied. The husband of
the lady, Sir Thomas Bornwell, remonstrates with her
as to the objects for which she desires to exchange
thein, in the following affectionate, yet manly manner :

“© My heart is honest,
And must take liberty to thiuk you have
Obey’d no modest counsel, to eficct,
Nay, study ways of pride and costly ceremony ;
Your change of gaudy furniture, and pictures
Of this Italian master, and that Dutchman ;
Your mighty looking-glassea, like artillery,
Brought home on engines; the superfluous plate,
Antique and modern ; varieties of tires;
Fourscore-pound suppers for my lord, your kinsman,
Banquets for t‘other lady aunt, and cousins ;
And perfumes that exceed all : trains of servants
To stifle us at home, aud shew abroad
More motley than the French or the Venetian,
About your coach, whose rude postilion
Must pester every narrow lane, till passengers
And tradesmen curse your choking up their stalls ;
And common cries pursue your ladyship
For hindering of their market.

“ Lady B. Have you done, sir?

“ Sir Thomas B. Tcould accuse the gaiety of your wardrobe,
And prodigal embroideries, under which
Rich satins, plushes, cloth of silver, dare
Not show their own complexions; your jewels,
Able to burn out the spectator’s eyes,

And show like bonfires on you by the tapers :
Something might here be spar'd, with satety of
Your birth and honour, since the truest wealth
Shines from the soul, and draws up just admirers,—
I could urge something more.

“ Lady B. Pray do: I like
Your homily of thrift.

“ Sir T. B. I could wish, madam,

You would not game so much.

“ Lady B. A gamester, too!

“ Sir T. B. But are not come to that acquaintance yet
Should teach you skill enough to raise your profit ;
You look not through the subtilty of cards,

And mysteries of dice, nor can you save

Charge with the box, buy petticoats and pearls,
And keep your family by the precious mcome ;
Nor do I wish you should : my poorest servant
Shall not upbraid my tables, nor his hire,
Purchas’d beneath my honour. You make play
Not a pastime, but a tyranny, and vex

Yourself and my estate by it.

“ Lady B. Good! proceed.

“ SirT. B. Another game you have, which: consumes more
Your fame than purse; your revels in the night,
Your meetings called the Ball, to which repair,
As to the court of pleasure, all your gallants,

And ladies, thither bound by a subparna P
Of Venus, and small Cupid’s high displeasure.
* * * % %

My thoughts acquit you for dishonouring me
By any foul act; but the virtuous know
'Tis not enough to clear ourselves, but the
Suspicions of our shame.”

In Massinger’s ‘City Madam,’ of a somewhat carlier
date, 1632, the two daughters of the wealthy knight
Sir John Frugal contrast even more distinctly the
alteration alluded to in the ballad: the one repudiates
the old dutics, which she details, together with a well-
founded reproach against the too cominon grossness
with which their simplicity was too often accompanied:

222

“ Mary. And can you in your wisdom,
Or rustical simplicity, imagine
You have met some innocent country girl, that never
Look'd further than her father's farm, nor knew more
Than the price of corn in the market; or at what rate
Beef went a stone? that would survey your dairy,
And bring in mutton out of cheese and butter ?
That could give directions at what time of the moon
To cut her cocks for capons against Christmas,
Or when to raise up goslings ?

“ Plenty. These are arts
Would not misbecome you, though you should put in
Obedience and duty.

“ Mary. Yes, and peau
To sit like a fool at home, and eye your thrashers ;
Then make provision for your slavering hounds,
When you come drunk from an alehouse, after hunting
With your clowns and comraies, as if all were yours,
You the lord paramount, and I the drudge!”

The other sister thus informs her suitor of what she
expects upon her becoming his wife, and the passage
contains also a curious allusion to the customs of the
theatre :—

““ My woman, sworn to my secrets, my caroch
Drawn by six Flanders mares, my coacliman, grooms,
Postilion, and footmen.
“ Sir Maurice.

To be demanded ?

‘¢ Anne. Yes, sir; mine own doctor,

French and Italian cooks, musicians, songsters,

And a chaplain that must preach to please my faucy :

A friend at court, to place me at a masque ;

The private box ta’en up at a new play,

For me and my retinue; a fresh habit

Of a fashion never seen before, to draw

The gallants’ eyes, that sit on the stage, upon me ;

Some decayed lady, for my parasite,

To flatter me, and rail at other madams;

And there ends my ambition.”

These instances, though they may look extravagant,
are however paralleled by recorded facts. Soon after
the marriage of Elizabeth, the rich heiress of Sir John
Spencer, in 1594, a few years before the accession of
James, she wrote a letter to her husband, Lord Compton,
afterwards Earl of Northampton, in which she says :—
“T pray and beseech you to grant to me, your most
kind and loving wife, the sum of 2G600/., quarterly to be
paid. Also J would, besides that allowance, have G00J.,
quarterly to be paid, for the performance of charitable
works ; and those things I would not, neither will be,
accountable for. Also I will have three horses for my
own saddle, that none shall dare lend or borrow; none
lend but I, none borrow but you. Also I would have two
gentlewomen, lest one should be sick, or have some
other let ; also, belicve it, it is an undecent thing for a
gentlewoman tostand mumping alone, when God hath
blessed their lord and lady with a great estate. Also
when I ride a-hunting or a-hawking, or travel from one
house to another, I will have them attending; so for
either of these said women I must and will have for
cither of them ahorse. Also I will have six or eight
srentlemen; and J will have my two ceaches, one lined
with yelvet to myself, with four very fine horses; and a
coach for my women lined with cloth, and laced with
gold, otherwise with scarlet and laced with silver, with
four good horses. : : ? ; ; And for
myself, besides my yearly allowance, I would have
twenty gowns of apparel, six of them excellent good
ones, cizht of them for the country, and six other
of them very excellent good ones. Also I would have
to put in my purse 20002. and 200/., and so you to pay
my debts. Also I would have 6000/. to buy me jewels,
and 40007. to buy me a pearl chain. Now, seeing I
have been and am so reasonable unto you, I pray you
do find my children apparel and their schooling, and
all my servants, men and women, their wages, Also

Is there aught else

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

[June 4,

I will have all my houses furnished, and my lodging-
chambers to be suited with all such furniture as is fit:
as beds, stools, chairs, suitable cushions, carpets, silver
warming-pans, cupboards of plate, fair hangings, and
such like. So for my drawing-chambers in all houses,
I will have them delicately furnished, both with hang-
ings, couch, canopy, glass, carpet, chairs, cushions,
and all things thereunto belonging.”

Of the shovel-board, which is scen in the engraving,
we shall have occasion to speak hereafter.

FROISSART AND HIS CHRONICLE.
BATTLE OF POITIERS—(concluded).

As the Prince and his company passed through the
lane and charged across the moor, the shock was as
terrible as it was speedily decisive. The Duke of
Athens, Constable of France, with a very large body
of horse, received them with courage and spirit,
answering their cry of “St. George for Guienne,”
with shouts of “ Mountjoy, St. Denis,” but it was all
in vain; they were overthrown, and the English
passed on. A body of German chivalry now endca-
voured to stem the torrent, but a storm of arrows was
directed upon them, which it was impossible for them
to bear up against: the chief leaders were slain almost
immediately, and the body thrown into inextricable
confusion. The battalion of the Duke of Normandy,
with whom were two other of the king’s sons, the counts
of Poitiers and Touraine, should next have received the
English attack, but the royal princes, “ who were right
young, believed their governors,* and so departed
from the field, and with them more than eight hundred
lances, that struck no stroke that day.” Some of'the
noblemen who had been with them, however, pressed
forward to join their countrymen wherever the fight
was fiercest. And now came the worst blow that
France was destined to suffer that day. Her brave
and patriotic spirits felt that all could not be lost
while the national honour was preserved, but deep
indeed must shame have sunk to their hearts when
they saw the large reserved body of horse, commanded
by the Duke of Orleans—a body which yet, by a des-
perate and skilful attack, might have changed the
fortunes of the day—quitthe field, without even affect-
ing to strike a blow. Thus deserted by those on whom
he had placed reliance, and overborne by the power of
his enemies, the King of France deported himsclf like
a king, and when his battalion met the Prince's charge
there was truly “a sore fight, and many a great stroke
given and received.” John fought on foot in the very
midst of the press, with a battle-axe in his hand, and
did such personal service in his own cause, as to excile
the wonder and emulation of his faithful adherents.
Immediately by his side was his youngest son Philip,
a boy of sixteen, who, as if to redeem the cowardice of
his brothers, behaved in a manner equally touching
and heroic. Constantly watching his father, and heed-
less of his own danger, he cried out to him, according
as he saw any blow about to be struck, “ Father, guard

ourself on the right; guard yoursclf on the left,” &e.

he king received two wounds in the face, and was
beaten down, but he rose, still defending himself with
unfailing courage. And he would no doubt have
perished—as, to every cry for surrender from the
throng around him, he still dealt a blow by way of
reply—but for the exertions of a young French kmight
who had been banished from France for killing a man
in a fray, and was now in the English service. This
knight, Sir Denis of Morbecque, “ by strength of his
body and arms he came to the French king, and said
in good French, ‘Sir, yicld you.’ The king beheld the

* That is to say, we presume, in other words, acted according
to their advice or counsel,

1842.}

knight, and said, ‘To whom shall I yield me? Where
is my cousin the Prince of Wales ?—if I might see
him, I would speak with him.’ Denis answered and
said, ‘Sir, he is not here; but yield you to me, and I
shall bring you to hin.’ ’Who be you?’ quoth the
king. ‘Sir, I am Denis of Morbecque, a knight of
Artuis; but I serve the king of England, because I am
banished the realm of France, and I have forfeited all
I had there” Then the king gave him his right
gauntlet, saying, ‘I yield me to you.’” The whole
scene following is such an admirable piece of dramatic
and picturesque composition, that we cannot venture
to abridge or mutilate it. At this time “there was a
great press about the king, for every man enforced
him to say, ‘I have taken him,’ so that the king could
not go forward with his young son, the Lord Philip, with
him, because of the press. The Prince of Wales, who
Was courageous and cruel as a lion, took that day great
leasure to fight and to chase his enemies; the Lord
ohn Chandos, who was with him of all that day, never
left him, nor never took heed of taking any prisoner.
Then, at the end of the battle, he said to the prince, ‘Sir,
it were good that you rested here, and set your banner
a-high in this bush, that your people may draw
hither, for they be sore spread abroad, nor I can see no
more banners nor pennons of the French _ party ;
wherefore, sir, rest and refresh you, for ye be sore
chafed.”. Then the prince’s banner was set upa-high on
a bush, and trumpets and clarions began to sound.
Then the prince did off his bascinct, and the knights
for his body and they of his chamber were ready
about him, and a red pavilion pight up; and then
drink was brought forth to the prince, and for such
lords as were about him, the which still increased as
they came from the chase. There they tarried and
their prisoners with them. And when the two mar-
shals were come to the prince, he demanded of them if
they knew any tidings of the French king: they
answered and said, ‘Sir, we hear none of desu A
but we think verily he is either dead or taken, for he
is not gone out of the battle.’ Then the prince said to
the Earl of Warwick and Sir Reginald Cobham, ‘Sirs,
I require you to go forth, and sce what ye can know,
that at your return ye may show me the truth.’ Thesc
two lords took their horses, and departed from the
prince, and rode up a little hill to Jouk about them:
then they perceived a flock of men-at-arms coming
together right wearily; there was the French king
afoot in great peril, for Englishmen and Gascons were
his masters; they had taken him from Sir Denis of
Morbecque perforce, and such as were most of force
said, ‘I have taken him ;’/—*‘ Nay,’ quoth another, ‘I
have taken him;’ so they strave which should have
hin. Then the French king, to eschew that peril, said,
‘ Sirs, strive not ; lead me courteously and my son to m
cousin the prince, and strive not for my taking, for
am so greata lord (asto be able) to make you all rich.’
The king’s words somewhat appeased them; howbeit,
ever as they went they made riot, and brawled for the
taking of the king. When the two aforesaid lords
saw and heard that noise and strife among them, they
came tothem, and said, ‘Sirs, what is the matter that
e strive for?’ ‘Sirs,’ said one of them, ‘it is for the
reuch king, who is here taken prisoner, and there be
more than ten knights and squires that challengeth
the taking of him and of his son.’ Then the two lords
entered into the press, and caused every man to draw
back, and commanded them in the prince’s name, on
pain of their heads, to make no more noise, nor to
approach the king no nearer, without they were com-
manded. Then every man gave room to the lords, and
they alighted aud did their reverence to the king, and
so brought him and bis son in peace and rest to the
Prince of Wales.”

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

223

The battle began in the morning and ended at noon,
and in that short space of time there was slain “all
the flower of France; and there was taken, with the
king and the Lord Philip his son, a seventecn
earls, besides barons, knights, and squires.” Indecd,
‘“‘when every man was come from the chase, they had
twice as many prisoners as they were in number tn all ;
then it was counselled among them because of
the great charge and doubt to keep so many, that they
should put many of them to ransom incontinent (im-
mediately) in the field, and so they did; and the
prisoners found the English and Gascons right cour-
teous. There were many that day put to ransom and
let go, all rage on their promise of faith and truth to
return again, between that and Christmas, to Bordeaux
with their ransoms. Then that night they lay in the
field, beside whereas the battle had been : some unarmed
them, but not all; and unarmed all their prisoners,
and every man made good cliccr to his prisoner ; for
that day whosoever took any prisoner he was clear his,
and might quit or ransom him at his pleasure. All
such as were there with the prince wereall made rich
with honours and goods, as well by ransoming of pri-
soners as yy winning of gold, silver, plate, jewels, that
was there found.”

Several interesting incidents marked the battle, and
these Froissart has recorded with all his usual delightful
simplicity and freshness. Among the noblemen who
particularly distinguished themselves on the English
side was the Lord James Audley, who, “with the anl
of his four squires, fought always in the chief of the
battle: he was sore hurt in the body and in the visage ;
as long as his breath served him he fought: at last, at
the end of the battle, his four squires took him and
brought himout of the field, and laid him under a
hedge-side for to refresh him, and they unarmed him,
and bound up his wounds as well as they could.”
Scarccly was the fight over, before the prince, remem-
bering him of his faithful servant, sent to him, saying,
“Go and know if he may be brought hither, or else
I will go and see him there as he is.” Fecble as he
was, this message infused new strength into the brave
knight's body, and he caused himself to be borne in
a litter before the prince, who took him in his arms, and
kissed him, and made him “ great cheer.” “Sir James,”
said he, ‘‘I and all ours take you in this journey for the
best doer in arms: and to the intent to furnish you the
better to pursue the wars, I retain you for ever to
be my knight, with five hundred marks of yearly reve-
nues, the which I shall assign you on mine heritage in
England.” We need not wonder at the close personal
attachment that existed between the Black Prince and
his chief followers, when we see such evidences of his
inagnificently generous disposition, and the manner in
which such gifts were bestowed ; nor to find how such
feelings spread downwards through the large body of
knights and squires which in the middle ages formed
so considerable a portion of every European army,
when we follow Lord Audley back to his tent, and
witness what immediately occurred there. Having
first sent for several noblemen of his lineage. he then
called before them his four squires and divided the whole
of his master’s munificent gift among them and their
heirs for ever ! Well may Froissart remark that “ every
man beheld other” in astonishment. But such, again,
was chivalry! ever delighting in self-sacrifices, whe-
ther of life, liberty, or possessions, and thereby prac-
tically leaving to the very different feelings and
customs of our own time its best apology for the sacri-
fices it was for ever making of the lite, liberty, and
possessions of others. With one more charming little
story, which in itself might furnish excellent materials
for a romance, we conclude these episodes of the
great field of Poitiers. ‘“ Also it fortuned that another

224

squire of Picardy, called John de Telenes, was fied
from the battle, and met with his page, who delivered
him a new fresh horse, whereon he rode away alone.
The same season there was in the field the Lord Berk-
ley of England, a young lusty knight, who the same
day had reared his banner, and he all alone pursued the
said John of Helenes; and when he had fullowed the
space of a league, the said John turned again, and laid
his sword in the rest instead of a spear, and came run-
ning toward the Lord Berkley, who lifted up his sword
to have stricken the squire, but when he saw the stroke
come, he turned from it, so that the Englishman lost his
stroke, and John struck him as he passed on the arm
that the Lord Berkley’s sword fell into the field: when
he saw his sword down, he lighted suddenly off his
horse, and came to the place where his sword Jay ; and
as he stooped down to take up his sword, the French
uire did prick his sword at him, and by hap struck
him through both the thighs, so that the knight fell to
the carth and could not help himself: and Jolin
alighted off his horse and took the knight’s sword that
lay on the ground, and caine to him, and demanded if
he would yield him or not: the knight then demanded
his naine. ‘Sir,’ said he, ‘I hight John of Telenes,
but what is your name? ‘Certainly,’ said the
kmeght, ‘my name is Thomas, and I am Lord of
Berkley, a fair castle on the river of Severn, in the
inarches of Wales.’ ‘Well, Sir,’ quoth the squire,
‘then ye shall be my prisoner, and J shall bring you
in safeguard, and I shall sce that you shall be healed of
your hurt.” ‘Well,’ said the knight, ‘I am content
to be your prisoner, for ye have by law of arms won
me.’ There he sware to be his prisoner, rescue or
no rescue.* Then the squire drew forth the sword
out of the knight’s thighs, and the wound was open ;
then he wrapped and bound the wound, and set him on
his horse, and so brought him fair and easily to Chatel-
Herault, and there tarried more than fifteen days for
his sake, and did get him remedy for his hurt; and
when he was somewhat amended, then he got hima
litter, and so brought him at his ease to his house in
Picardy: there he was more than a year, till he was
poy whole. Aud when he departed he paid for
Ns ransom six thousand nobles, and so this squire was
made a knight by reason of the profit that he had of
the Lord Berkley.”
_ The supper that night on the field will, no doubt,
live in the memory of most readers, Certainly never
did chivalry show itself more vividly in the contrasted
light which it sou loved—of its terrible power and
recklessness in the field, and its almost feminine grace
and gentleness out of it—than at Poitiers. We have
seen what the battle was: here is Froissart’s notice of
the supper. “The prince made the king and his
son, the Lord James of Bourbon, the Lord John d’Ar-
tois, the Earl of Tancarville, the Earl d' Estampes,
the Earl Dammartyn, the Earl of Greville, and the
Lord of Pertney, to sit all at one board, and other
lords, knights, and squires at other tables; and
always the prince served before the king, as humbly
as he could, and would not sit at the king’s board, for
any desire that the king could make: but he said he
was not sufficient to sit at the table with so greata
prince as the king was: but then he said to the king,
‘Sir, for God’s sake inake none evil nor heavy cheer,
though God did not this day consent to follow your
will: for, sir, surely the king my father shall bear you
as much honour and amity ashe may do, and shall
accord with you so reasonably, that ye shall ever be
friends together after: and, sir, methink you ought to
rejoice, though the journey be not as you would have

* A particularly necessary proceeding in so bold an act as the

soldier of a defeated army carrying away as prisoner a soldier of

the conquering, where rescue was 60 very vrobable.

THE PENNY

MAGAZINE. [JuNeE 4,
had it; for this day ye have won the high renown of
prowess, and have past this day in valiantness all
other of your party. Sir, I say not this te mock you:
for all that be on our party, that saw every man’s deeds,
are plainly accorded by true scntence to give you the
prize and chaplet.’ ”

The fate of the war was decided by this victory:
the French were ulterly dispirited, and the country
was ina fearful state of distress and disorganization,
which grew daily worse. John remained for two or
three years prisoner in London; and then the peace
of Bretigny was concluded, by which Edward re-
nounced the throne of France, and his*claim to Nor-
mandy, Anjou, and Maine; reserving only on the
continent Calais, Guisnes, the countries of Gui-
enne and Poictou with their dependencics, and
the county of Ponthicu, his mother’s inheritance: on
the other hand, he was to have full and entire sove-
reignty over those places reserved, and to be paid in
six years three million crowns of gold as the price of
Joluvs ransom, For security of the fulfilment of these
terms, Kdward demanded as hostages sixteen of the
prisoners taken at Poitiers, twenty-five French barons,
and forty-two of the richest burghers of the country,
King John himself was allowed to go over to France
to make the necessary arrangements, Which failing to
do, he, with that aati sense of honour which charac-
terised all these later proceedings, returned, and diced
at the Savoy in London, regretted quite as much by
the English as by his own subjects. Quarrels now
touk place about the performance of the treaty, and
the result was that the Dauphin, now Charles V,,
“the Wise,” drove the English almost entirely out of
the country by aserics of petty but continual successes.
Strenuous exertions were made in the later reigns of
Ifenry V. and Jlenry V1., and they were marked by a
companion victory to Cressy and Poitiers,—Agincourt ;
butthe result of the whole was the adding Normandy
and Aquitaine to the French crown, instead of adding
the French crown to them, as was the hope and ain
of our monarchs in commencing these brilliant but
unjust and Jamentable wars.

The Constitution of the Atmosphere adjusted to Animal and
Fegetuble Life-—Yhe air we breathe, and from which plants
also derive a portion of their nourishment, consists of a mixture
of oxygen and nitrogen gases, with a minute quantity of car-
bonic acid, and a variable proportion of watery vapour. Every
hundred gallons of dry air contain about 21 gallons of oxygen
and 79 of nitrogen. The carbonic acid amounts only to one
gallon in 2500, while the watery vapour in the atmosphere varies
from 1 to 24 gallons (of steam) im 1000 gallons of common air.
The oxygen in the air is necessary to the respiration of animals,
aud to the support of combustion (burning of bodies), The
nitrogen serves principally to dilute the strength. so to speak, of
the pure oxygen, in which gas, if unmixed, animals would live
and combustibles burn with too great rapidity. The small
quantity of carbonic acid affords an important part of their food
to plants, and the watery vapour inthe air aids in keeping the
surfaces of animals and plants in a moist and pliant state; while,
in due season, it descends also in refreshing showers, or studs
the evening leaf with sparkling dew. There is a beautiful
adjustment in the constitution of the atmosphere to the nature
and necessities of living beings. The energy of the pure oxygen
is tempered, yet not too much weakened, by the admixture of
nitrogen. The carbonic acid, which alone is noxious to life, is
mixed in so minute a proportion as to be harmless to auimals, while
itis still Leneticial to plants; and when the air is overloaded
with watery vapour, it 1s provided that it shall) descend in rain,
These rains at the same time serve another purpose. From the
surface of the earth there are continually ascending vapours anil
exhalations of a more or less noxious kind: these the rains wash
out from the air, and bring back to the soil, at ounce purifying
the atmosphere through which they descend, and refreshing ant
fertilizing the land on which they fall_—JuAnston’s Elements of
Agricultural Chemistry and Geology.

1842.)

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

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‘Suez, from the Sea.;

STEAM COMMUNICATION WITH INDIA.

WuEN two places become connected by a railway, the
change effected in their means of communication is
striking in proportion to their distance from each
other. London Bridge and Greenwich are some
twenty minutes nearer to one another than they were
before a railway linked them more closely ; but the
journey from London to Lancaster or Darlington is
shortened by fourteen or fifteen hours, even on a
comparison with the quick travelling of the mail-
coaches, which were superseded by the railways when
everything connected with them was carried to the
utmost perfection. The improvements effected within
the last seven years in the means of communication
between England and India are far more extraordi-
nary than any of the changes wrought by the railways
in this country. Sixty years ago the voyage from
London to Calcutta usually occupied five and six
months, and to China seven months, and the ‘course
of post” with India was calculated at little less than
twelve months. Intelligence from this distant quarter
arrived only at uncertain intervals, and often through
indirect channels. A Dutch or Danish East Indiaman
left despatches for England at Lisbon, or Falmouth, or
wherever it was most convenient to touch. Thei@rench
received despatches from their establishments in India ;
and reports, originating in France, were often in cir-
culation in London, which neither the East India Com-
pany, the government, nor any one could affirm or
contradict, though they might relate to matters of the
highest import and which called immediately for
active measures. Occasionally despatches were re-
ceived overland both in England and France, and by
the Asiatic Company at Trieste; but these opportu-
nities of communication were only available to the
parties who received them, and led to vague rumours,
or such reports as it happened to be for the interest
of each to put into circulation. Overland despatches
reached London in rather more than three months
through Persia and Turkey, vid Constantinople.
Thirty or forty years ago, by improvements in nau-
tical science, the voyage between England and India
was reduced to about four months and a half; and

within the last ten or fifteen years, further improve- | navigation with India recommended t

No. 604,

ments of this nature, and a more accurate knowledge
of the currents and winds experienced in the course
traversed, reduced the average duration of the voyage
to about three months and a half. A few voyages
have been made in three months; but, taking the
average, the saving effected was at least two months,
the total saving in the “course of post” being nearly
five months. Within the last half-dozen years the
means of communication with India have been still
further quickened, as we shall presently show.

Until 1836 the intercourse between Europe and
India was carried on by the Cape of Good Hope. The
distance of Calcutta from London by this route is
above sixteen thousand miles; and it is something
like going from London to Herne Bay by Tunbridge,
Dover and Ramsgate, the distance to fais by the
Red Sea being one-half shorter. This advantageous
line of communication was not opened until after
several years’ active exertions both in England and
India. In 1830 the Hugh Lindsay, a steamer of four
hundred tons, with two engines each of eighty horse-

ower, made the first experimental voyage from

ombay to Suez at the expense of the Indian govern-
ment. Depéts of coal were previously formed at
Aden, Judda, Cosseir, and Suez. The steamer left
Bombay on the 20th of March, and arrived at Suez on
the 22nd of April. The mail consisted of three hun-
dred and six letters, which might have reached Eng-
land in sixty-one days from Bombay, if any arrange-
ments had been made for forwarding them. The second
voyage from atte | to Suez was completed between
the 5th and 27th of December in the same year. The
third voyage was made in January, 1832, and though
very unfavourable weather was experienced, the pas-
sage was completed in twenty-nine days and sixteen
hours, the time actually occupied in steaming being
twenty-one days and six hours. Seven hundred letters
were In the mail-bags, and, but for the reason above-
mentioned, they could have been received in England
in fifty-eight days. The Hugh Lindsay made a ourth
experimental voyage in January, 1833, which was
completed in thirty-three days, allowing above ten
days for stoppages. In July, 1834, a select committee
of the House of Commons on the subject of steam-
be line by the

You. xI.—2 G

226

Red Sea, and a grant of twenty thousand pounds for
the survey of the Euphrates ; but this river was found
to be impracticable, and the route by the Red Sea
alone fixed the public attention. By this time its
practicability for steam-navigation had been ascer-
tained during the north-east monsoons, but not in
those from the south-west. The latter, however, only
prevail four months in the year, from June to Sep-
tember inclusive. Only a quarterly communication
was thought of at this period, either by Lord William
Bentinck, then Governor-General of India, or Mr.

Wazhorn, whose services in improving the means of

intercourse with India can scarcely be too highly
praised. :

In 1835 the line of communication by the Post-
office steamers in the Mediterrancan was extended to
Alexandria, and this encouraged the exertions making
in India to establish a regular communication by
steamcrs between Bombay and Suez. Letters could
now be transmitted from London to Alexandria, to the
care of the British Consul, who despatched them when-
ever an opportunity presented itself, though they were
often delayed several months. Only one-half of the
line to India was yetopened. Mr. tics ats proceeded
to Egypt about this time, to remedy the defect in the
transmission of Indian letters to and from Alexandria.
He appointed an agency in London, where letters
sitended to be confided to him were registered and
marked before being put into the Post-office. On the
mails reaching Alexandria, these letters were forwarded
immediately to Suez, and if no vessels were on the
point of sailing, they were sent onward by janissaries
or by the country boats to Mocha or Aden, where the
opportunities of transmitting them to India were much
more frequent. The letters which were not sent
through Mr. Waghorn’s agency, laid quietly at the
British Consul’s until they could be despatched direct
from Suez. At this period, there was, strictly speak-
ing, no regular conveyance between England and
India. Ship-letter bags were made up at the Post-
office in the same way as they now are for the Austra-
Jian colonies, but no one on putting a letter into the
Post-office of a country town knew when it would
leave England, and those who had frequent occasion
to write to friends in India often found it advan-
tareons to transinit their letters to some agent in
s.ondon, who knew what ships were likely to make
the quickest passage, or to stop at the fewest interme-
diate points; and could send expresses to ships for
India tives wind-bound in the Channel, while Ictters
sent throveh the Post-office remained there until
another ship sailed. In 1836, the Hugh Lindsay again
lett Bombay for Suez, with letters and passengers,
and in consequence of the arrangements of Mr. Wag-
horn, and the extension of the packet service to
Alexandria, the mail reached England in fifty days;
but it was hoped that by various improvements the
time might at a future period be reduced to about
forty days. More than a year elapsed before the linc
of steamers between Suez and Bombay was completely
established ; but in this interval Mr. Waghorn accele-
rated the rate of communication by conveying the
Indian letters through France, instcad of sending them
to Falmouth by the Mediterranean steamers, which
stopped at Gibraltar and Lisbon. In 1839 the Enelish
Government concluded a convention with that of
France, for the transmission of the India mails through
Paris to Marseille.

The mails from India are now despatched from
Bumbay on the first day in every month, after the arrival
of the steamer from Ceylon, and the inland post with
the correspondence from Madras and Calcutta. About
the 20th of the month the steamer lands the mails at
Sucz, and by the 22nd they are put on board the

THI PENNY

MAGAZINE, [June 11,
Mediterrancan steamer at Alexandria, which reachcs
Malta on the 24th, and Marseille on the 30th. Its
arrival is announced in Paris by telegraph on the
same day, a distance of nearly five hundred miles, and
the most important items of news are communicated
by the same means. Early in the afternoon the intelli-
sence is published by the ministerial evening journal,
a copy of which is forwarded by an extraordinary
express to London, where the news is re-published
about twenty-four hours afterwards. It is however
sometimes the practice of the French government not
to announce the telegraphic news until the day after it
is received, or later; but occasionally the arrival of
the mail at Marseille, and the intelligence which it
brings, is officially made known by an official placaré
at the Bourse. The exertions of the London news-
apers do not end with the despatch of the express
rom Paris, which perhaps may Just simply announce
the arrival of the mail. As soon as possible special
couriers (for on several occasions more than one has
heen despatched) start for London with packets for
the principal morning papers. The distance is about
seven hundred and forty miles, namely, from Marscille
to Paris, four hundred and ninety-seven; Paris to
Calais, one hundred and fifty ; Calais to Dover, twenty-
one; and Dover to London, seventy-two. The ex-
pense of each express is above 100/., and on the fourth
day after the mail has reached Marseille the intelli-
gence from India, China, and the East generally is
ublished in London. The opening of the South-

astern Railway will frequently have the effect of
bringing the publication of this information within the
usual hours of business at the great marts for Fast
India and China produce. Railroads through France
would shorten the route by a couple of days. The
Post-office authorities in France have on several occa-
sions interfered most vexatiously with the couricrs
conveying these despatches for the London journals,
and they have several times been seized, on the pre-
tence that they were not authorised to carry letters.
In March last, one of these couriers was prosecuted by
the Post-office and sentenced to pay certain fines. It
was frivolously contended that they might convey
the despatches in post-chaises, but not on horseback.
The London journalists represented their case to the
French Minister, through our ambassador at Paris,
but it docs not appear that they have obtained any
security against future interruptions. On the day
following the arrival of the newspaper expresses, the
mails with the letters and newspapers are received at
the Post-office. A week elapses, and the letters
arrive which pay a lower rate of postage, and are not
sent thrguzh France, but brought to Falmouth by the
Mediterranean steamer.

g (To be continued.)

CARDINAL WOLSEY AFTER HIS FALL.
MEMOIRS ON ENGLISH HISTORY.

Amoncst the earliest, and certainly far exceeding
most memoirs in interest and importance, is ‘The Lite
of Wolsey, by George Cavendish, his Gentleman
Usher.’ Itwas long a question who wrote this remark-
able book ; but the doubt was satisfactorily cleared up
by Mr. Hunter, who found that it was written by the
brother of Sir William Cavendish, a faithful follower
of the great Cardinal. There are ten MSS. in exist-
ance of this ancient work; but it has been very care-
fully edited by Mr. Singer. We confine our extracts
to jliose more striking passages which relate to tlic
great Cardinal after his fall from power.

The courtiers of Henry VIII. had procured the
Cardinal’s dismissal to the archbishopric of York.
Wolscy commenced his journey in the beginning of

1842. }

the Passion Week of the year 1530. He travelled on
horseback with his attendants, performing the offices
of the church at Peterborough, and at other places on
his road. He halted at length at Southwell, near
Newark, where there was a palace belonging to his
archbishopric. ‘‘ He was fain, for lack of reparation of
the bishop’s place which il eed to the see of
York, to be lodged in a prebendary’s house against
the said place, and there kept house until Whitsuntide
next, against which time he removed into the place,
newly amended and repaired, and there continued the
most part of the summer, surely not without great
resort of the most worshipfullest gentlemen of the
country, and divers other, of whom they were most
gladly entertained, and had of him the best cheer he
could devise for them, whose gentle and familiar
behaviour with them caused him to be greatly beloved
and esteemed through the whole country. He kepta
noble house, and plenty of both meat and drink for all
comers, both for rich and poor, and much alms given
at his gates. He used much charity and pity among
his poor tenants and other ; although the fame thereof
was no pleasant sound in the ears of his enemies, and
of such as bare him no good will, howbeit the common
people will report as they find cause; for he was much
more familiar among all persons than he was accus-
tomed, and most gladdest when he had an occasion to
do them good. He made many agreements and con-
cords between gentleman and gentleman, and between
some gentlemen and their wives that had been long
asunder, and in great trouble, and divers other agrce-
ments between other persons; making great assem-
blies for the same purpose, and feasting of them, not
sparing for any costs, where he might make a peace and
amity, which purchased him much love and friendship
in the country.” After remaining for some time at
Southwell, the Cardinal removed to Scrooby, another
house belonging to the bishopric of York; “ which
was lamentable to all his neighbours about Southwell,
and as it was lamentable unto them, 80 was it as much
joy to his neighbours about Scrooby. Against the day
of his removing, divers knights and other gentlemen
of worship in the country came to him to Southwell,
intending to accompany and attend upon him in that
journey the next day, and to conduct him through the
forest unto Scrooby. But he being of their purpose
advertized, how they did intend to have lodged a great
stag or twain for him by the way, purposely to show
him all the pleasure and disport they could devise,
and having, as I said, thereof intelligence, was very
loth to receive any such honour and disport at their
hands, not knowing how the king would take it; and
being well assured that his enemies would rejoice
much to understand that he would take upon hira
such Weaker tye whereby they might find an occasion
to inform the king how sumptuous and pleasant he
was, notwithstanding his adversity and overthrow, and
so to bring the king into a wrong opinion of him, and
cause small hope of reconcilement, but rather that he
sought a mean to obtain the favour of the country to
withstand the king's proceedings, with divers snch
imaginations, wherein he might rather sooner catch
displeasure than favour and honour. And also, he
was loth to make the worshipful gentlemen privy to
this his imagination, lest peradventure they should
conceive some toy or fantasy in their heads by means
thereof, and so to eschew their accustomed access, and
absent themselves from him, which would be as much
to his grief as the other was to hiscomfort. Therefore
he devised this mean way, as hereafter followeth,
which should rather be taken for a laughing disport
than otherwise: first, he called me unto him secretly at
night, going to his rest, and commanded me in any-

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

227

horses, besides his mule for his own person, to be
made ready by the break of day for him and such
persons as he appointed to ride with him to an abbey
called Welbeck, where he intended to lodge by the
way to Scrooby, willing me to be also in readiness to
ride with him, and to call him so early that he might
be on horseback, after he had heard mass, by the
breaking of the day. Sir, what will you more? All
things being accomplished according to his command-
ment, and the same finished and done, he, with a small
number before appointed, mounted upon his mule,
setting forth by the breaking of the day towards Wel-
beck, which is about sixteen miles from thence;
whither my lord and we came before six of the clock
in the morning, and so went straight to his bed, leaving
all the gentlemen strangers in their beds at Southwell,
nothing pay of my lord’s secret departure, who
expected his uprising until it was eight of the clock.
But after it was known to them and to all the rest
there remaining behind him, then every man went to
horseback, galloping after, supposing to overtake hii.
But he was at his rest in Weltieck or ever they rose
out of their beds in Southwell, and so their chief hunt-
ing and coursing of the great stag was disappointed and
dashed. But at their thither resort to my lord, sitting
at dinner, the matter was jested, and laughed out
merrily, and all the matter well taken.

“‘ My lord the next day removed fron: thence, to whom
resorted divers gentlemen of my lord the Earl of
Shrewsbury’s servants, to desire my lord, in their
master’s name, to hunt in a park of the earl’s, called
Worksop Park, the which was within a mile of
Welbeck, and the very best and next way for my lord
to travel through on his journey, where much plenty
of game was laid in a readiness to show him pleasure.
Howbeit he thanked my lord their master for his
gentleness, and them for their pains; saying that he
was no meet man for any such pastime, being a man
otherwise disposed ; such pastimes and pleasures were
nieet for sich noblemen as delight therein. Never-
theless he could do no less than to account my Lord of
Shrewsbury to be much his friend, in whom he found
such gentleness and nobleness in his honourable offer,
to whom he rendered his lowly thanks. But in no
wise they could entreat him to hunt. Although the
Nea tae gentlemen being in his company provoked
him all that they could do thereto, yet he would not
consent, desiring them to be contented, saying, that
he came not into the country to frequent or fullow
any such pleasures or pastimes, but only to attend to
a greater care that he had in hand, which was his duty,
study, and pleasure. And with such reasons and per-
suasions he pacified them for that time. Howbeit yet
as he rode carousel the park, both my Lord of Shrews-
bury’s servants, and also the foresaid gentlemen,
moved him once again, before whom the deer lay very
fair for all pleasant hunting atid coursing. But it
would not be; but he made as inuch speed tou ride
through the park as he could. And at the issue out
of the park he called the earl’s gentlemen and the
keepers unto him, desiring them to have him com-
mended to my lord their master, thanking him for his
most honourable offer and good will, trusting shortly
to visit him at his own house; and gave the kecpers
forty shillings for their pains and diligence, who con-
ducted him through the park. And the next day he
came to Scrooby, where he continued until after
Michaelmas, ministering many deeds of charity. Most
commonly every Sunday (if the weather did serve) he
would travel unto some parish church thereabout,
and there would say his divine service, and either
hear or say mass himself, causing some one of his
chaplains to preach unto the people. And that done,

Wise most secretly that night to cause six or seven| he would dine in some honest house of Ve town,

228 THE PENNY
where should be distributed to the poor a great alms,
as well of meat and drink, as of money to supply the
want of sufficient meat, if the number of the poor did
so exceed of necessity. And thus with other good
deeds practising and exercising during his abode there
at Scrooby, as making of love-days and agreements
between party and party being then at variance; he
daily frequented himself there aboutsuch business and
deeds of honest charity.” On his journey from Scrooby
to Cawood Castle, which is about seven miles from
York, the Cardinal confirmed many hundred children
and performed various acts of charity. On his arrival
at Cawood, “he had intelligence by the gentlemen of
the country, that used to repair unto him, that there
Was sprung up a great variance and deadly hate
between Sir Richard Tempest and Mr. Brian Hastings,
then being but a squire, but after made knight, between
whom was like to ensue great murder, unless some
good mean might be found to redress the inconvenience
that was most likeliest to ensue. My lord being
thereof advertised, lamenting the case, ‘nade such means
by his wisdom and letters, with other persuasions,
that these two gentlemen were content to resort to
my lord to Cawood, and there to abide his order, high
and low. Then there was a day appointed of their
assembling before my lord, at which day they came,
not without great number on each part. Wherefore,
against that day, my lord had required many worship-
ful gentlemen to be there present, to assist him with
their wisdom to appease these two worthy gentlemen,
being at deadly feud. And to see the king’s peace
kept, commanding no more of their number to enter
Into the castle with these two gentlemen than six
persons of each of their menial servants, and all the
rest to remain without in the town, or where they
listed to repair. And my lord himself issuing out of
the gates, calling the number of both parties before
him, straightly charging them most earnestly to ob-
serve and keep the king’s peace, in the king’s name,
upon their perils, without either bragging or quarrel-
ling either with other; and caused them to have both
beer and wine sent them into the town; and then re-
turned again into the castle, being about nine of the
clock. And because he would have these gentlemen
to dine with him at his own table, thought it good, in
avoiding of further inconvenience, to appease their
rancour before. Whereupon he called them into his
chapel; and there, with the assistance of the other
rentlemen, he fell into communication with the matter,
declaring unto them the dangers and mischiefs that
through their wilfulness and folly were most likeliest to
ensuc ; with divers other good exhortations. Notwith-
Standing, the parties laying and alleging many things
for their defence, sometime adding each to other stout
and despiteful words of defiance, the which my lord
and the other gentlemen had much ado to qualify,
their malice was so great. Howbeit, at length, with
Jong continuance and wise arguments, and dee per-
suasions made ay my lord, they were agreed and
finally accorded about four of the clock at afternoon ;
and so made them friends. And, as it seemed they
both rejoiced, and were richt well contented therewith,
to the great comfort of all the other worshipful gen-
tlemen, causing them to shake hands, and to go arm
Im arm to dinner; and so went to dinner, though it
Was very Jate to dine, yet notwithstanding they dined
together with the other gentlemen at my Jord’s table,
where they drank lovingly cach to other, with coun-
tenance of great amity. Ate dinner my Jord caused
them to discharge their routs and assembly that re-
_mained im the town, and to retain with them no more
servants than they were accustomed most commonly
to ride with. And that done, these gentlemen, ful-
filling his commandment, tarried at Cawood, and lay

MAGAZINE. fJunx 11,
there all night, whom my lord entertained in such sort
that they accepted his noble heart in great worthiness
and friendship, trusting to have of him a special jewel
in their country: having him in great estimation and
favour, as it appeared afterward by their behaviour
and demeanour towards him.”

{To be continnted.}

Structure of Plants, and the mode tn which their Nourislonent
i$ obfutned.—A perfect plant consists of three several parts: a
root which throws out arms and fibres ih every direction into the
suil; a trunk which branches into the air on every side ; and leaves
which, from the ends of the branches and twigs, spread out a
more or less extended surface into the surrounding air. Each of
these parts has a peculiar structure and a special function assigned
to it. The stem of any of our common trees consists of three
—the pith in the centre, the wood surrounding the pith,
and the bark which covers the whole. The pith consists of
bundles of minute hollow tubes, laid horizontally one over the
other; the wood and inner bark, of long tubes bound together
in a vertical position, so as to be capable of carrying liquids up
and down between the roots and the leaves. When 4 piece of
wood ig sawn across, the ends of these tubes may be alstinetly
seen. The branch is only 4 prolougation of the stem, and has a
similar structure. The roof, immediately on leaving the trink
or stern, bas also a similar structure : but as the rodt tapers away,
the pith gradually disappears; the bark also thins out, the wood
softens, till the white tendrils, of which its extremities aré com-
i consist only of a colourless spongy mass, ful] of pores,
ut in which no distinction of parts can be perceived. In this
spongy mass the vessels or tubes which descend through the stem
and root lose themselves, and by them these spongy extremities
are connected with the leaves. The /eaf is an expansion of the
twig. The fibres Which are secti to branch out from the base
over the inner sntface of the Teaf are prélongations of the vessels
of the wood. The green ext rior portion of the teaf is, in like
manner, a continuation of the bark ia very thin and porous
form. The green of the leaf, though full of pores, especially on
the under part, yet also consists of or contains a collection of
tubes or Vessels, Which stretch along its surface, and communi-
cate with those pf the bark. Most of these vessels in the living
t are full of sap, and this sap is in almost continual motion.
n spring and autumn the motion is more rapid, and in winte1 it
is sometimes scarcely perceptible; yet the eap is supposed to be
rarely quite stationary in every part of the tree. From the
spongy part of the root, the sap ascends through vessels of the
wood, till it is diffused over the inner surface of the leaf by the
fibres which the wood contains. Hence, by the vessels in the
green of the leaf, it is returned to the » and through the
vessels of the inner bark it descends to the root. Every one
understands why the roots send out fibres in every direction
through the soil; it is in search of water and of Aqwd food,
which the spongy fibres suck in and send forward with the sap
to the upper parts of the tree. It is to aid these roots in pro-
curing food that, in the art of culture, such substances are mixed
with the soil where these roots are, as are supposed to be neces-
sary, or at least favourable, to the growth of the plant. It is not
so obvious that the leaves spread out their broad surfaces into
the air for the same purpose precisely as that for which the roots
diffuse their fibres through the soil. The only difference is, that
while the roots suck in chiefly grid, the leaves imbibe almost
solely gaseous food. In the sunshine, the leaves ure vimtiaually
absoriing carbonic actd from the wiv and giving off orygen gas.
That is to say, they aré continually appropriating carbon from
the air. When night comes, this process ceases, and they begin to
absorb oxyyer and to give off carbonte ard. But this latter
process does not go on so rapidly as the former, so that, on tHe
whole, plants when growing gain a large portion of carbon from
the air. The actual quantity, however, varies with the season,
with the climate, and with the kind of tree. The proportion of
the whole carbon contained by a plant, which has been derived
from the air, is greatly mouilicd also by the quality of the soil
in which §t grows, and by the comparative abundance of liquid
food which happens to be within reach of its roots. It has been
ascertained, however, that in our climate, on an average, not
less than from one-third to three-fourths of the entire quantity
of carbon contained in the crops we reap from laud of average
fertility, is really obtained from the air.—JoAnston's Evements of
Agricultural Chemistry.

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THE PENNY MAGAZINE. on

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fSandwich Istanders —Interview with Captain Cook J

THE SANDWICH ISLANDS.

Tue Sandwich Islands, named in honour of the Earl
of Sandwich, first lord of the Adiniralty, were dis-
covered by Cook in 1778, during his lest voyage.
Most of the islands of the Pacific lie in groups, and
the Sandwich group consists of ten islands, eight of
which are inhabited. Hawaii (Owhyee), the largest
island, where Cook was killed, is of about the same
extent as Middlesex and the counties of Kent, Surrey,
and Sussex, joined together. Another of the islands 1s
about the size of Hertfordshire ; two others aré not
quite so large; and the remainder are considerably
smaller. They are all eid of volcanic origin,
api surface is generally broken ard mountainous.

interior of the islands is generally covered with
forests, and the population is usually settled within
three or four miles of the coast. The mean annual
temperature is about 75°, the extremes being 61° and
88°. The climate is considered more agreeable than
even that of Otaheite.

Cook estimated the population of all the islands at
four hundred thousand, but this has always been con-
sidered too high, and Mr. Ellis, the missionary, docs
not think that they exceed one hundred and fifty
thousand. A census taken in 1832 gave the total po-
ecypss of all the islands at 130,000, and another in

836 at 105,000; but neither can be depended upon.
For many years, however, the population had been
decreasing ; but, in consequence of improved habits
and modes of life, the case is now reversed. The

natives were deschibed by Cook as ™ blest with a
frank and cheerful disposition,” and “equally free
from the fickle levity which distinguishes the na-
tives of Otaheite, and the sedate cast observable
among those of Tongataboo.” They are, however,
of the same race which is found in the islands ex;
tending north and south over 70° of latitude, from
the Sandwich group to New Zealand, and over 60°
and 70° east and west, from Tongataboo to Easter
Island. No traditions worthy of belief record the
migration of this people over so large a space, but
their manners and customs prove them to be of Asiati¢
origin. The Sandwich Islanders are generally wel:
made, strong and active, their skins of a fine wn,
inclining to a copper colour, hair black and rather
coarse, and éyes constantly in motion. They do not
appear ever to have been cannibals, and when Cook
visited them in his “ floating islands,” and taught them
“to know how great the world was,” to use their own
éxpressions, they were in a more advanced state than
the natives of most of the Polynesian Islands. They
cultivated their provision-grounds with care; manu-
factured a kind of cloth from the bark of the paper-
mulberry; wove very neat mats with the fibres of the
flax-plant ; and exhibited considerable taste in their
ornaments and dresses. A collection of their weapons
and tools, and specimens of their cloths and mats, may
be seen at the British Museum. But their moral state
was in no respect superior to that of other benighted

yple. They acknowledged two beings as supreme

peo
| authors of good and evil, each of whom had interme-

230

diate deities. The worship of their war-gods was the
most conspicuous part of their superstition ; and these
deities were propitiated by the sacrifice of some of the
prisoners taken in battle. Human sacrifices also
occurred when other modes of propitiating the gods
failed. The shark was an object of worship. Women
were forbidden to eat certain kinds of food, or to enter
the apartment in which the men took their meals; and
yet they were not excluded from the rights of chief-
tainship.

The hog, dog, and rat were the only animals found
on the islands at the period of their discovery, and
were each used as food. The taro, pounded and
formed into a paste; the sweet potato; several kinds
of banians ; the cocoa-nut and bread-fruit tree supplied
them with vegctable diet. The sugar-cane furnished
an agreeable nutriment. Fish, especially mullet, of
very excellent flavour, were preserved for use in salt-
water ponds. Since they were first visited by Euro-
peans, the cow, horse, sheep, and goat have been
added to their live stock, and all thrive well except
sheep. The cattle which Vancouver left in 1792,
were tabooed, or rendered sacred, for ten years, and
became wild. Turkeys, geese, ducks, fowls, pigeons,
are now bred; and the list of native fruits and vegeta-
bles has been increased by the addition of oranges,
lemons, citrons, grapes, apples, pears, papaw apples,
pomcgranates, figs, melons, water-melons, cucumbers,

umpkins, French beans, onions, and red pepper.

he pine-apple does not come to perfection, but tolera-
ble wine has been made from grapes grown in the
islands. Maize is the only kind of corn which is pro-
ductive. The tobacco, coffee, and cotton plants have
also been introduced, and at some future time their
cultivation will forin a valuable source of employment.
The cultivation of the sugar-cane, with a view to the
manufacture of sugar, has made some progress.

After the death of Cook the islands were seldom
visited, and it was not until after Vancouver's voyage,
in 1792, that the intercourse with them became more
frequent. About this period also the Pacific Ocean
began to be resorted to by ships engaged in the whale
fishery, most of which touched at the islands for vege-
tables and fresh provisions. On the Spanish colonies
in South America becoming independent, the Sandwich
Islands rose into still greater importance as a maritime
and commercial position. They were in the highway
of ships trading between the west coast of America and
the East Indies and China; and cqually so for those
which come from the Atlantic states of the American
Union round Cape Horn, from which they sail direct
to the Sandwich Jslands, whence the trade-wind carries
them quickly to Canton; and this constant intercourse
has led thein to imbibe the ideas and adopt the habits
of ee life with a rapidity which 1s without a

rallel.
ee November, 1819, Rhio-Rhio, having conferred
with the principal chiefs, and found them favourable
to his views, ordered the morais, or sacred places, and
the idols, to be destroyed, and Christianity became the
religion of the state. He broke through the custom
which prohibited women cating certain kinds of food,
or eating in the presence of men. Ata great feast he
scnt to his wives those parts which it was unlawful to
taste, and sat down with them in the presence of the
people. An insurrection occasioned by these revolu-
tions was repressed without difficulty. In 1820 imis-
Bionaries arrived in the islands from the United
States, and their number was subsequently increased
by those from the London Missionary Society.* The

* The ad Per to the ‘ Report of the American Board of
Missions for 1841" contains an account of the banishment of the
Roman Catholic priests from the islands after they had exercised
their functions for several years, In Jaly, 1839, Captain Ler

THE PENNY

jects.

MAGAZINE. (June 1],
natives became most anxious for instruction; schools
were established ; in 1822 the first book in the native
language was printed ; and the chiefs learned to read
and write. To the civilizing effects of commercial
intercourse were now added the still more powerful
influences of Christianity.

When first discovered, each of the islands was
governed by a petty sovereign or chief, who were often
at war with each other. They were the proprietors
of the soil, and partitioned it among inferior chiefs, who
held their lands by the feudal tenure of military service
and by the payment of an annual sum constituting a
sort of ground-rent. Under these secondary chiefs
were others of lower rank, who held their lands
according to a similar tenure. The fourth class con-
sisted of the bulk of the people. Tereipoo, who was
sovereign of Hawaii when Cook was killed, was suc-
ceeded by a chief of great energy and ability, named
Tamehameha, who has been called the Peter the Great
of his country. He subjugated the various islands,
and bronght them all under his single sovereignty ;
and subsequently he took upon himself the office of
chief priest as well as king. On Vancouver's visit
in 1792, his rule only extended to Hawaii and Maui;
but in 1817 all the others acknowledged his supremacy,
and were under the authority of chiefs or governors of
his appointment. He made a formal cession of Hawaii
to England in the presence of Vancouver, but this
proceeding was never acknowledged by any act of
authority on our part. At asubsequent period, fear-
ing that either the Americans or Russians would
endeavour to establish themselves on one of the islands,
he placed their independence under the protection of
England. The Russians did erect a fort, but the act
was disavowed at St. Petersburg. Tamehameha re-
ceived from us a national flag, which has seven hori-
zontal stripes, and the union-jack in the corner. He
died in 1819, and was succeeded by his son, Rhio-Rhio.
This young man, accompanied by his queen, and a
suite of several persons, visited England, 1n order that
the assurance of protection on the part of England
against any foreign encroachment on the independence
of the islands, might be renewed and strengthened,
and generally to see all that was interesting in this
country. Both the king and queen died in London of
the measles, and the Blonde frigate, commanded by
Lord Byron, conveyed their remains to their native
country, in faithful obedience to their last. wishes.
All the expenses of their visit were defrayed by the
government, and the survivors of the party received
many valuable and useful presents.

In 1840 new laws came into operation relative to
property in land, taxation, and other important sub-

Restrictions on the fisheries were reimoved, and
a new plan of taxation adopted. These measures are
calculated to encourage industry by more coinplctely
securing the rights of property and labour.

The welfare of the Sandwich Islanders now depends
upon their progress in industry and the useful arts, and
in general intelligence. Their political independence
is palaces. they are masters of their native land ;
and cannot be exterminated or trampled upon as if

place arrived in a French frigate to demand satisfaction on the
part of his government for the above act of expulsion, threaten-
ing to commence hostilities two days afterwards, unless the king
consented to a treaty guaranteeing the freedom of the Roman
Catholic worship to natives as well as foreigners; and he was
also called upon to give a piece of land at Honolulu for the
erection of a chapel, and to abolish the prohibition of the import
of spirits. Captain Laplace demanded and received from the
king a deposit of 25,000 dollars, to be retained until the treaty
had been satisfactorily fulfilled, The king was compelled,
under these circumstances, to execute the treaty. Previously,
during the period when the Roman Catholic religion was exer-
cised, the natives were prohibited attending the chapels,

1842.] | THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 231

they were defenceless barbarians. The fort of Hono-
lulu is of considerable strength, and mounts sixty guns,
and is garrisoned by about three hundred islanders
dressed in regimentals, who mount guard and present
arms in the same style as in Europe. The navy con-
sisted a few years azo of a dozen brigs and schooners,
and are of course chiefly valuable in a commercial

int of view. The United Statcs of America, also

ngland and France, have cach a consul at Honolulu,
and each of these countrics has entered into treaties
with the government of the islands. At this port there
are pilots and port charges as in European countries.
For many years sandal-wood was one of the most valu-
able objects of commerce which the Sandwich Islands
afforded. It was eagerly sought for by the Americans,
who took it to China, where it was used as incense in
the temples. As much as four hundred thousand
dollars have been paid in a single year for this article,
and this valuable source of revenue enabled Tameha-
meha and his successors to purchase ships and small
craft, to pay the troops, defray the general expenses
of government, and to obtain the conveniences of civi-
lized life. The sandal-wood was not cultivated, and
1s now become scarce; and unless the falling off in
this resource be accompanied by greater industry in
the production of some other objects of demand, the
cxpenses of the government will press heavily on the
people. The plough has been lately introduced at some
of the mission stations. The manufacture of clothas a
domestic manufacture has been introduced by the mis-
sionaries. They make tolerable seamen, according to
Captain BeecheyJand “are particularly useful in boats ;”
but when he visited the‘#iftands in 1826 the vessels be-
longing to the government were chartered chiefly to
Americans, as the natives were scarcely competent to
conduct them on a foreign voyage. At present the
natives are in a transition state, the necessary effect
of which is some incongruities belonging neither to
a state of barbarism nor. of civilization. The poorer
classes are adopting the European costume after the
example of those more wealthy. Many of the females
of the latter class are dressed in the silks of China,
wear green and red shoes, and some of them carry
parasols, and have their handkerchiefs abundantly
perfumed with lavender-water. The houses of the
chiefs contain tables and chairs, and are built of wood;
but some few are of stone. Boki, who visited Eng-
land in the suit of Rhio-Rhio, displayed a service of ex-
pensively cut glass, and one of silver, at an entertain-
ment given to the officers of the Blossom. Twelve or
fourteen merchants, principally Americans, have esta-
blished stores at Honolulu, where articles of European
and American manufacture may be obtained, as well as
the productions of China and other parts of the world.
The articles most in demand are piece-goods, hard-
ware, crockery, hats, shoes, naval stores, &c., which
are retailed to the natives for Spanish dollars or
sandal-wood. The town contains about seven thou-
sand inhabitants, and there are billiard-rooms and
public-houses for the accommodation of the ships’
crews who visit the harbour. A newspaper is pub-
lished in the English language, and several periodicals
have been published at different times; one of which,
in the Hawaiian language, sometimes contained arti-
cles written by natives. The printing-press is also
employed in supplying the islanders with school and
other books in the native language. Since the com-
mencement of the American Mission a hundred million
pages of printing have been executed. The translation
and printing of the Bible in the native tongue was
completed early in 1839. According to the ‘Report o
the American Board of Missions for 1841,’ the number
of forcign missionaries employed on the islands was
reventy-nine, including physicians, secular superin-

tendents, two or three printers and bookbinders, and
forty female assistant-missionaries. There were ninc-
teen churches, and above eighteen thousand church
members. The number of schools was about two
hundred, attended by fourteen thousand pupils, of
whom ten thousand are stated to be readers. There
were seminaries and boarding-schools for the children
of chiefs, and for the education of native Christian
teachers and ministers. The native Christians of the
Sandwich Islands have contributed as much as 8000
dollars in & single year in support of the means of
education and religious instruction.

ON THE PREPARATION OF DIES FOR
COINS AND MEDALS.

A SLIGHT inspection of a newly-coined piece of money
vr an honorary medal must convince every one that
the mould or original pattern whence it is produced
must be a work of extreme nicety and importance.
The outlines of the device are so fine, the legends and
inscriptions so distinct, the head or other figure so
gently and gracefully brought into relief, the surface
of the sunken portions so srnooth and regular, that it is
evident the coin or medal owes its main beauty to the
workmanship of the die-sinker or engraver. <A few
words in explanation of the process of manufacturing
these dies may not be unintcresting.

It is perhaps scarcely necessary to remind the
reader that coins are not cast; they are not produced
by pouring melted metal into a mould, as ornamental
works in iron and brass are generally made ; they are
struck, that is, produced by forcibly driving circular
pieces of cold metal into the engraved mould or die,
and causing them to assume the form and ornamental
features of the mould. It is also observable that in all
coins and medals the device is given in basso-relievo,
or low-relief, that is, raised slightly above the ground-
work or general level of the coin. |

Although the metals whereof coins and medals are
generally made are by no mcans hard, yet it is neces-
sary to have an extremely hard die for striking them,
both to ensure the production of many copies from cne
die, and to bring out all the fine lines which contribute
so much to the beauty of the device. The dies are,
therefore, made of steel; but as the steel is annealed
to a certain state of softness for facilitating the labours
of the engraver, and afterwards hardened for working
in the press, the circle of labours includes many very
complicated and difficult processes. The object, there-
fore, is to select a steel of a medium quality as to
fineness of texture, not too easily acted on by dilute
sulphuric acid, and exhibiting a uniform texture when
its surface is washed over with a little aquafortis, by
which its freedom from ‘ pins’ of iron, and other irre-
gularities of composition, is sufficiently indicated.

When a piece of steel, possessing the requisite com-
bination of qualities, is selected, the process of forma-
tion commences. ‘The steel is forged, at a high heat
and with great care, into the roughdie. It is then
brought to a soft state by a delicate process of anneal-
ing, and in that state 1s turned and smoothed to a
proper diameter and shape. This annealing is cf-
fected by heating the stecl to that point known among
workers in metal as the ‘bright cherry-red,’ and
subsequently imbedding it in a crucible containing
caaraely_pounded animal charcoal.

The steel being brought to a proper state, the en-
graver commences big operations. In the National
Mint this office of course devolves on a highly skilled
individual. At the present time Mr. Wyon fills the
office of “chief engraver,” and Mr. Pistrucci that of
“ medallist ;’ the former being engaged princi | on
the dies for the coinage, and the latter, as the title of his

232 THE PENNY MAGAZINE. [Jung 11

Pieces of soft steel, being impressed by this punch,
and afterwards turned, polished, &c., become practically
as useful as the original matrix, and are then used in
the coining-press to produce the coins. In the Mint,
the internal economy of which is arranged on the
strictest principles (every official having his duties
prescribed for him with the utmost exactitude), the
two officers most closely connected with the preparation
of the dies are the ‘clerk of the irons’ and the ‘chief
engraver ;’ and their dutics are thus apportioned. The
‘clerk of the irons’ is to superintend the die-press
rooms: the purchasing and forging of the steel; the
engraving, hardening, and turning of the dies; to
keep a true account of all the blank dies, inatrices, and
punches belonging to the Mint; ta receive from the
master and comptroller, and to transmit to the engraver,
all orders respecting the dies; ta unlock and he pre-
sent whenever the great die-press for multiplying the
dics is used; to be responsible for the die-press not
being used far improper purposes; and to sce that no
medal ar coin be struck, but by a written order from
the master or his deputy. The ‘chief engraver’ is to
make or receive draughts and models for dies, as the
master may direct; to engrave the dies from the
designs and models; to oversee the production of
punches and digs in the press-room ; to receive from
the clerk of the irons the dics fer any particular coin-
age, and ta see that they are in a fit working state ;
to make a monthly return of all faulty or worn-out
dies to the clerk of the irons; and to sce that, during
the actual process of coinage, the dies are renewed
from time to time, as soon as the impressions appear
in the least defective. + |

“The number of pieces which may he struck by a
single die of good steel properly hardened and duly
tempered not unfrequently amounts at the Mint to
between three and four hundred thousand, but the
average consumption of dies is of course much greater,
owing to the different qualities of steel, and to the
casualties to which the dies are hable: thus, the upper
and lower die are often violently struck together,
owing toa fault in the ‘layer-on,’ or that part of the
machinery which ought to put the blank into its
paces but which now and then fails sotodo......

here are cight presses at the Mint, frequently at
work for ten hours each day; and I consider that the
destruction of cight pair of dies per day (one pair for
each press) 13 a fair average result, though we much
more frequently fall short of, than exceed, this pro-
portion. It must be remembered that cach press
pence three thousand six hundred ees per pair ;

ut, making allowance for occasional stoppages, we
may reckon the daily produce of each press at el
thousand pieces : the eight presses therefore will furnis
a diurnal average of two hundred and forty thousand
pieces.”’ *

In the less frequent event of ‘ medals’ being struck,
the operations of the pressare much more difficult and
slow than in producing coins, ome to the generally
high relief which medals present. It is stated by Mr.
Brande, that in a medal executed by Mr. Wyon, for
the Royal Naval College, there was a representation of
the head of the king, in such bold relief, as to require
thirty blows of a very powerful press to complete the
impression; and that it was necessary, on account of
the hardening produced by the pressure, to anneal
each medal after every third blow, so that they were
placed in the furnace ten times during the process of
stamping. About five ycars ago, there was a notice
of anew method invented by Mr. Pistrucci, whereby
medals could be produced without the process of
engraving the dies; but we are not aware how far it
has been practically applied.

* Professor Brande, in the ¢ Journal of Science.’

office imports, on those for national and honorary medals.
The manner in which these dies are engraved does not
admit of being clearly described, and it may suffice,
therefore, ta say that the device is worked out in
‘ intaglio,’ by means of small tine hardened steel tools.
Every part which in the future coin is to appear
raised is here depressed, such as the Queen’s head,
the Britannia, the letters, &c.; while those which are
to appear depressed are here raised; the depressions
in the die being equal in depth to the relief in the
coin. In medals the device is generally bolder, or, as
it is termed, in ‘ higher relief,’ than in coins, and con-
sequently has to be cut more deeply in the die. The
engraver tests his progress by taking casts from the
die, either in clay or by means of melted type-metal.

When the dié is, after much tedious and delicate
labour, brought toa finished intaglia state, it undergoes
the process of hardening, as a preparative for the pur-
poses to which it is afterwards to be applied. This
process is of great importance, for aa defect in the
mode of conducting it may ruin the labour of many
weeks or even inonths. The hardening resembles the
previous process of softening, so far as regards the
applicatian of a high heat; but in the latter instance
the metal is cooled gradually in the charcoal, whereas
the former derives its peculiar character from the
sudden cooling of the steel after being heated. Ifa
bar of soft steel he made red-hot, and then suddenl
cooled by immersion in cold water, it becomes hard,
brittle, and fragile; but this alone would not suffice in
the case of the die, the engraved face of which might
be injured by such a process. This face is covered
with a protecting paste of pounded charcoal mixed
with oil, spread in_a thin layer; and the die is then
placed with its face downwards in a crucible, and
completely surrounded by powdered charcoal. It is
heated to a ‘cherry-red,’ and in that state is taken out
with proper tongs, and plunged into a cistern contain-
ing a large quantity of cold watcr; here it is moved
rapidly about, so long as a bubbling and hissing noise
18 heard, and is then left in the water till quite cool.
Mr. Mushet (Encyclop. Brit.) describes a somewhat
different mode of conducting this process.

The hardened die undergoes one or two processes to
render it more durable. It is in some cases immersed
in water, which is then gradually raised to the boiling
point, and as gradually cooled. It is also sometimes
thrust into a red-hot iron ring, of such diameter as
Just to fit the die when the latter is cold ; consequently
the ring, by contracting aa it cools, hinds the substance
of the die with great force, and renders it less liable to
crack in the subsequent operations. The die, when
hardened and strengthened, is cleaned and polished,
and then obtains the technical name of the ‘ matrix.’
It is in a fit state to produce the devices on coins and
medals; but lest any acccident should happen to it,
whereby the labour of the artist might be wholly lost,
it is customary in practice to obtain several copies of
this matrix, so that when onc is injured, or worn
out, others may be to replace it. A block of
steel is selected, carefully annealed, turned to the

roper shape, and well polished. By the aid of power-
ul machinery it is pressed forcibly upon the matrix,
and by virtue of its softness gradually conforms to the
form of the latter. This however is not done at once,
for the punch becomes hardened in the act of pressing,
and requires to be repeatedly annealed or softened,
otherwise it would either split into fissures or else
Imjure the matrix. These processes succecd each
other in a long series of alternations, viz., softening the
steel by annealing, and then forcing it to assume th
device of the matrix by powerful pressure.

From this punch may be produced any number of
dies, each of which will resemble the criginal matrix.

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1842.]

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(Leicester Abbey.)

CARDINAL WOLSEY AFTER HIS FALL.
(Continued from pagé 228.}

Arter Wolsey had resided for some time at the
palace at Cawood, he settled to be installed in the
Cathedral Church, according to the custom of his
predecessors, When he was told that at the ceremony
of the installation it was usual for the archbishop to
walk on cloth, from St. James’s Chapel to the Minster
he “ made answer to the same in this wise: ‘ Although,
quoth he, ‘that our predecessors went upon cloth right
sumptuously, we do intend, God willing, to go afoot
from thence without any such glory, in the vamps of
our hosen. For I take God to be my very judge that
I presume not to go thither for any triumph or vain
glory, but only to Fulfil the observance and rules of
the Church, to which, as ye say, I am bound. And
therefore I shall desire you all to hold you contented
with my simplicity and also I command all my ser-
vants to go as humbly, without any other sumptuous
apparel than they be constantly used, and that is
comely and decent to wear.’” Great he gdee er
were made for the installation of the Cardinal, which
never took place. He was arrested some days before
that which was fixed for the ceremony. ‘“ Or ever I
wade any further in this matter, I do intend to declare
unto you what chanced him before this his last trouble
at Cawood, as a sign or token given by God what
should follow of his end, or of trouble which did
shortly ensue, the sequel whereof was of no man then
resent either premeditate or imagined. Therefore,
cr a8 mueh as it is a notable thing to be considered,
I will, (God willing,) declare it as truly as it chanced,
according to my simple remembrance, at the which I

No. 695.

myself was present. My lord sitting at dinner upon
Allhallown-day, in Cawood Casile, having at his
board’s end divers of his most worthiest chaplains,
sitting at dinner to keep him company for lack of
strangers, ye shall understand, that my lord’s great
cross of silver accustomably stood in the corner, at the
table’s end, leaning against the tappet or hanging of
the chamber. And when the table’s end was taken
up, and a convenient time for them to arise, in
arising from the table, one Doctor Augustine, physi-
cian, being a Venetian born, having a boisterous gown
of black velvet upon him, as he would have come out
at the table’s end, his gown overthrew the cross that
stood there in the corner, and the cross trailing down
along the tappet, it chanced to fall upon Doctor
Bonner’s head, who stood oe others by the tappet,
making of curtsy to my lord, and with one of the
oints of the cross razed his head a little, that the
lood ran down. The company standing there were
reatly astonied with the chance. My lord sitting in
fis chair, looking upon them, perceiving the chance,
demanded of me, being next him, what the matter
meant of their sudden abashment; I showed him how
the cross fell upon Doctor Bonner’s head. ‘ Hath it,’
quoth be, ‘drawn any blood?’ ‘Yea, forsooth, my
lord, quoth I, ‘as itseemeth me.’ With that he cast
down his head, looking very soberly upon me a good
while without any word speaking ; at the last, quoth
he (shaking of his head), ‘ Malum omen ;’ arth there-
with said grace, and rose from the table, and went
into his bed-chamber, there lamenting, making his
prayers. Now mark the signification, how my lord
expounded this matter unto me afterward at Pomfret
Abbey. First, ye shall understand, that the cross,

234 THE PENNY
which belonged to the dignity of York, he understood
to be himself; and Augustine, that overthrew the
cross, he understood to be he that should accuse him,
by means whereof he should be overthrown, The
falling upon Master Bonner’s head, who was master of
my lord's faculties and spiritual jurisdictions, who was
damnified by the overiirewiig of the cross by the
physician, and the drawing of blood, betokened death,
which shortly after came to pass; about the very same
time of the day of this mischance, Master Walshe took
his horse at the court gate, as nigh as it could be
judged. And thus my lord took it for a very sign or
token of that which after ensued, if the circumstance
be equally considered and noted, although no man
was there present at that time that had any knowledge
of Master Walshe’s coming down, or what should
follow. Wherefore, as it was supposed, that God
showed him more secret knowledge of his latter days
and end of his trouble than all men supposed; which
appeared right well by divers talk that he had with
inc at divers times of his last end.”

The narrative of Cavendish thus proceeds: “The time
drawing nigh of his stallation; sitting at dinner, upon
the Friday next before Monday on the which he in-
tended to be stalled at York, the Ear] of Northumber-
land and Master Walshe, with a great company of
gentlemen, as well of the earl’s servants as of the
country, which he had gathered together to accompany
him in the king’s name, not knowing to what purpose
or to what intent, came into the hall at Cawood, the
officers sitting at dinner, and my lord not fully dined,
but being at his fruits, nothing knowing of the earl's
being in hishall. The first thing that the earl did,
after he came into the castle, he commanded the
porter to deliver him the keys of the gates, who would
in no wise deliver him the keys, although he were
very roughly commanded in the king’s name to deliver
thein to one of the earl’s servants.” After some stout
1efusal on the part of the porter, “*‘ Well then,’ quoth
the earl, hold. him a book,’ and commanded him to
Jay his hand upon the book, whereat the porter made
some doubt, but being persuaded by the gentlemen
there present, was contented, and laid his hand upon
the book, to whom, quoth the earl, ‘ Thou shalt swear
to keep well and truly these gates to the king our
sovereign lord’s use, and to do all such things as we
shall command thee in the king’s name, being his
highness’ commissioners, and a3 it shall seem to us at
all tines good, as long as we shall be here in this
castle ; and that ye shall not let in nor out at these
gates but such as ye shall be commanded by us, from
time to time ;’ and upon this oath he received the keys
at the earl’s and Master Walshe’s hands.” The Car-
dinal, being apprised of the earl’s presence, received
him with many courtesies, and at length led him into
his own bedchamber. “And they being there all
alone, save only I, that kept the door, according to my
duty, being gentleman usher ; these two lords standing
at a window by the chimney, in my lord’s bedchamber,
the earl trembling said, witha very faint and soft voice,
unto my lord (laying his hand upon his arm), ‘ My
Jord, I arrest you of high treason.” With which words
a lord was marvellously astoniced, standing both still
a long space without any further words. But at the
Jast, quoth my lord, ‘What moveth you, or by what
authority do you this ?’ ‘Forsooth, my lord,’ qnoth the
earl, ‘I have a commission to warrant me and my
doing.’ ‘Where is your commission ?’ quoth my lord;
‘let me sec it.” ‘Nay, sir, that you may not,’ quoth
the earl. ‘Well then,’ quoth my lord, ‘T will not obey
your arrest: for there hath been between some of your
predecessors and mine great contentions and dcbate
frown upon an ancient grudge, which may succeed in
you, with like inconvenience, as ithath done herctofore.

MAGAZINE. [Jung 18,
Therefore, unless I see your authority and commission
I will not obey you.’ Even as they were debating
this matter between them in the chamber, 80 busy was
Master Walshe in arresting of Doctor Augustine, the
physician, at the door, within the portal, whom I heard
say unto him, ‘Go in, then, traitor, or I shall make
thee. And with that I opened the portal door, and
the same being opened, Master Walshe thrust Dr.
Augustine in before him with violence.” Subsc-
quently, Dr. Augustine was sent to London asa traitor,
and the Earl of Northumberland removed with his
great prisoner. Cavendish was sworn to certain articles
before he was allowed to wait upon his fallen master ;
but he remained with him to the end. ‘And so he
(Northumberland) gave me a new oath, and then IJ
resorted to my lord, where he was in his chamber
sitting in a chair, the tables being covered for him
ready to go to dinner. But as soon as he perceived
me coming in, he fell into such a woful lamentation,
with such rueful terms and watery eyes, that it would
have caused the flintiest heart to have relented and
burst for sorrow. And as I and other could we
comforted him; but it would not be.”
“* Howbeit,’ quoth he to me (calling me by my name),
‘I am a true man, and therefore ye shall never reccive
shame of me for your service.’ I, perceiving his
heaviness and lamentable words, said thus unto him :
‘My lord, I nothing mistrust your truth; and for the .
same I dare and will be sworn before the king's person
and his honourable council. Wherefore, (knecling
upon my knees before him, I said,; my lord, comfort
yourself and be of good cheer. The malice of your
uncharitable enemies, nor their untruth, shall never
prevail against your truth and faithfulness, for I doubt
not but, coming to your answer, iY hope is such that
ye shall so acquit and clear yourself of all their sur-
mised and feigned accusations, that it shall be to the
king’s contentation, and much to your advancement
and restitution of your former dignity and estate.’
‘Yea,’ quoth he, ‘if I may come to mine answer, I fear
no man alive; for he liveth not upon the earth that
shall look upon this face (pointing to his own face),
shall be able to accuse me of any untruth; and that
knoweth mine enemies full well, which will be an
occasion that I shall not have indifferent justice, but
they will rather seek some other sinister ways to
destroy me.’ ‘Sir,’ quoth I, ‘ye need not therein
doubt, the king being so much your good lord, as he
hath always showed himself to be, in all your troubles.’
With that came up my lord’s meat ; and so we left our
communication, I gave him water, and sat him down
to dinner: with whom sat divers of the earl’s gentle-
men, notwithstanding my lord did eat very little meat,
but would many times burst out suddenly in tears,
with the most sorrowfullest words that hath been
heard of any woful creature. The next day,
being Sunday, my lord prepared himself to ride when
he should be commanded; and after dinner, by that
time that the earl had appointed all things in good
order within the castle, it drew fast to night. There
was assigned to attend upon hii five of us, his own
servants, and no more; that is to say, I, one chaplain,
his barber, and two grooms of his chamber, and when
he should go down the stairs out of the great chamber,
my lord demanded for the rest of his servants ; the earl
answered, that they were not far; the which he had
inclosed within the chapel, because they should not
disquiet his departure. ‘Sir, I pray you,’ quoth my
lord, ‘let me see them or ever I depart, or else I will
never go out of this house.’ ‘Alack, my lord,’ quoth
the earl, ‘they should trouble you; therefore I beseech
you to content yourself.’ ‘ Well,’ quoth my lord, ‘then
will I not depart out of this house, but I will see them,
and take my leave of them in this chamber.’ And his

oo 8 8 8 @ ©

1842.]

servants being inclosed in the chapel, having under-
standing of my lord’s departing away, and that they
should not see him before his departure, began to
grudge, and to make such a ruetul noise, that the
Com missioners doubting some tumult or inconvenience
to arise by reason thereof, thought it good to let them
pass out to my lord ; and that done, they came to him
into the great chamber where he was, and there they
kneeled down before him; among whom was not one
dry eye, but pitifully lamented their master’s fall and
trouble. To whom my lord gave comfortable words
and worthy praises, for their diligent faithfulness and
honest truth towards him, assuring them, that, what
chance soever should happen unto him, he was a
true man and a just to his sovereign lord. And thus
with a lamentable manner, shaking each of them by
the hands, was fain to depart, the night drew so fast
upon them.” They rode on, in tribulation, till they
arrived at Pomfret Castle, where they that night
lodged. “The next day they removed with my lord
towards Doncaster, desiring that he might come thither
by night, because the poor followed him weeping
and lamenting, and so they did nevertheless although
he came in by torchlight, crying, ‘God save your
xrace, God save your grace, my good lord Cardinal.’
. . And the next day we removed to Sheffield Park,
where the Earl of Shrewsbury lay within the lodge,
and all the way thitherward the people cried and
lamented, as they did in all places as we rode before.
And my lord being there, continued there
eighteen days after; upon whom the earl appointed
divers gentlemen of his servants to serve my lord,
forasmuch as he had a small number of servants there
to serve ; and also to see that he lacked nothing that
he would desire, being served in his own chamber at
dinner and supper, as honourably, and with as many
dainty dishes, as he had most commonly in his own house
being at liberty. And once every day the earl would
resort unto him, and sit with him communing upon a
bench in a great window in the gallery. And though
the earl would heartily comfort him, yet would he lament
so piteously, that it would make the earl very sorry and
heavy for his grief.” Shortly afterwards the Cardinal
fell 111; and it is evident, from the cautions observed,
that those about him suspected that he intended to poison
himself. Ill as he was, the Earl of Shrewsbury put
the fallen man under the charge of Sir William King-
ston, the lieutenant of the Tower, when the king had
sent for the Cardinal, with twenty-four of his guard ;
and with this escort he departed on his last journey.
“And the next day he took his journey with Master
Kingston and the guard. And as soon as they espied
their old master in such a lamentable estate, they
lamented him with weeping eyes. Whom my lord
took by the hands, and divers times, by the way, as he
rode, he would talk with them, sometime with one,
and sometime with another; at night he was lodged
at a house of the Earl of Shrewsbury’s, called Hard-
wick Hall,* very evil at ease. The next day he rode
to Nottingham, and there lodged that night, more
sicker, and the next day we rode to Leicester Abbey ;
and by the way he waxed so sick that he was divers
times likely to have fallen from his mule; and being
night before we came to the abbey of Leicester, where
at his coming in at the gates the abbot of the place
with all his convent met him with the light of man
torches; whom they right honourably received wit
great reverence. To whom my lord said, ‘Father
Abbot, I am come hither to leave my bones among
you ;’ whom they brought on his mule to the stairs foot
of his chamber, and there alighted, and Master King-
ston then took him by the arm, and led him up the
stairs; who told me afterwards that he never carried

* Not the Hardwick of Derbyshire, but of Nottinghamshire.

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

233

so heavy a burden in all his life. And as soon as he
was in his chamber, he went incontinent to his bed,
very sick. This was upon Saturday at night; and
there he continued sicker and sicker.

(To be continued }

STEAM COMMUNICATION WITH INDIA.
(Continued from page 226.)

We have mentioned the number of letters trans-
mitted by the Hugh Lindsay in 1836, and while that
vessel was employed in making experimental voyages.
In 1783, according to one of the daily newspapers of
that date, an overland mail brought twenty private
letters in addition to the public despatches. On an
average of several ycars prior to 1836, the number of
letters annually received and despatched from the
several presidencies of India, and from Ceylon, was
300,000. With increased certainty, rapidity, and fre-
quency of transmission, the number had risen to
616,796 in 1840, and to 840,070 in 1841. Mr. Rowland
Hill could scarcely desire a better illustration of his
principles of Post-office philosophy; but in this instance
the postage is high. The Hugh Lindsay in 1836 con-
veyed a few hundred newspapers, but the number sent
from India to Europe last year is believed to have ex-
ceeded 80,000; above 250,000 were received there from
Europe ; and it is thought that the number both ways,
for 1842, will amount to 400,000.* In this enumera-
tion each cover is counted as one, though it may
contain several newspapers.

Availing themselves of the certainty and regularity
of communication, several of the principal newspapers
of India publish a monthly summary for circulation in
Europe, containing the news from all parts of the
East up to the time of the steamer starting. There
are such monthl wags ty cis at Calcutta, Madras,
Bombay, and Ceylon, and altogether about five thou-
sand are despatched to England by each steamer for
Suez. They will be found extremely interesting to
the English reader, and no news-roum should be
without one of these concise summaries of Indian in-
telligence. They will tend materially to strengthen
the interest which is felt in England for all that
affects that vast monument of English power and
influence, which has grown gradually from the pos-
session of a trading fort, to the dominion, more or less
supreme, over a hundred and fifty millions of the
human race, the administration of a system of finance
which raises an annual revenue of 15,000,0002., and
the maintenance of an army of two hundred thousand
men. Besides the large number of London and other
newspapers circulated in India, four of the principal
Indian peweeners supply their readers gratuitously
with a monthly newspaper, carefully prepared in
London at a considerable expense. There is, besides,
a monthly newspaper for India prepared in London,
which is unconnected with any of the Indian journals ;
and one is published in London for circulation in
England, which gives a monthly summary of Indian
news immediately after the arrival of the overland mail.
Every one who has connections in the colonies which do
not enjoy the means of regular and certain communica-
tion with the mother-country has experienced the pain
and annoyance arising from this circumstance. Letters
and newspapers occasionally arrive several weeks before
others are received which were transmitted some time
before. Under such a system, the strongest ties at
length become weakened; while the colony and its
interests remain comparatively unknown. A rapid
intercourse, effected by a line of steamers, would bring
these distant interests within the range of general ob-
servation ; and they would assume the distinctness and

® © Bombay Times,’ April 1.
21 2

oJu

prominence to which they are of right entitled. In
the case of India, a great revolution has been effected
in the character of those who now proceed to pass the
best part of their lives in that country. The interests
of home are not obliterated by the uncertainty and

he midst of the jungles,
a man may be as well informed on the leading topics
of the day in England as the daily frequenter of a
Besides newspapers, reviews and

magazines, and new works sheadaes . tee de-
ich Wi mit

slowness of intercourse ; and int

news-room here.

spatched in boxes of a certain size w
of their being slung on each side of a camel.

The mails for India are made up in London on the
last day of the month, and on the 4th; the former
being sent by the steamer from Falmouth, and the
latter through France to Marseille, and onward to
Malta, whence the Falmouth steamer conveys them to
The arrival of the English mail at
either of the three Presidencies is usually by far the
most interesting event of the month. The ‘ Bombay
Times,’ in its ‘Monthly Summary’ dated April lat,
has graphically described the scene which occurs
At the extremity of one of the pro-
Inontories of the island there is a lighthouse ninety
fect high, and, with its elevated base, it has an alti-

Alexandria.

at that place.

tude of one hundred and twenty feet. At a distance
of twenty or twenty-five miles out at sea it is an in-
teresting land-mark ; and from its summit vessels may
be descried at a great distance. As soon as they
appear in the horizon, and their number can be ascer-
tained, it is announced by signals at the lighthouse,
Which are repeated from a numbcr of signal-posts,
ove or more of which are visible from nearly every

house in the island. When the time for the arrival of

the Suez steamer approaches, the lighthouse and
siznal-posts are watched with the greatest anxiety.
A steamer is seen from the lighthouse, and the flag
denoting that class of vessel is instantly hoisted; but
there are steamers from the Indus, the Persian Gulf,
and Surat, and it is uncertain whether it is the steamer
from Suez or one of these. The doubt cannot be
solved for another hour; but if it be the one from
Suez, an immense red flag, fifteen feet long, with
three white crosses on it, is immediately hoisted. <A
couple of hours elapses, and the vessel is visible to
every one; and now business is at a stand until she
reaches the roadstead. Boats push off, and she is
boarded by persons from the newspaper-offices, who
obtain a list of the passengers, particulars of the
voyage, &c. In ten or fifteen minutes after the mails
are landed, the ‘ peons,’ or messengers attached to the
two newspaper cstablishments whose proprietors join
in the expense of the publication, obtain from the
Poat-office the monthly newspaper prepared in London
and sent wet from the press on the day the mails were
nade up. Copies are forwarded in separate packages
through France, so that no delay may take place in
their delivery at Bombay and the other Presidencies.
Ten ora duzen native ‘ peons,’ each under an ‘ havildar’
or serjeant, are attached to each of the newspaper-
offices. Their costume is novel, that of the ‘havildar ’
being smarter than the rest. All ay an umbrella
or Chinese ‘chittery’ as a protection either against the
rain or the heat. As soon as the papers are folded,
these newsmen are seen hurrying with them in all
directions, About forty ‘peons’ are employed by the
Bombay Post-office, and shortly afterwards they are
also equally on the alert. The letters are enclosed in
from fifty to sixty boxes, about two feet long by one
and a half wide. Part of thein are of wood lined with
tin, but those which are transmitted through France
ate of tin entirely, and fastened by a spring in sucha
way that they cannot be opened except by force.
Blacksmiths are in attendance at the {

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

*ost-office to‘ each. An omnibus has bcen just starte

[June 18,

effect this. ‘The editor of the ‘ Bombay Times’ sug-
gests that ue should be of copper or zinc, with
patent locks, which might be frequently changed; as
the tin boxes become rusted, and papers are frequent]

injured. At Ceylon, Madras, and Calcutta, the arriva
of the monthly mail from England excites the same
degree of interest.

Bombay is at present the central point of commu-
nication between India and Europe. The communi-
cation between London and Calcutta is effected in six
weeks, instead of as many months; and with Bombay in
ten or twelve days less ; and on one occasion (in August
last) in thirty-one days and five hours. Powerful
steamers will be established during the present year,
by which the letters to Calcutta and Madras will be
forwarded, instead of by d4k across the peninsula. One
of the North American steamers has just made the voy-
age from Halifax to Liverpool in ten days and three
hours, so that it is actually possible to traverse a portion
of the globe between 63° 38’ west longitude and 72°
57’ east longitude in the space of six weeks, passing at
the same time through Liverpool and London. As the
Australian colonies increase in wealth and population,
they will naturally become desirous of connecting
themselves with the mother-country by the East India
line of steam-navigation ; and the Cape of Good Hope,
with the Mauritius, might also be placed in connection
with it. The system of steam communication in the
Eastern hemisphere would be complete if Singapore,
Ceylon, and the island of Socotra, at the mouth of the
Red Sea, were made grand points of rendezvous for
steamers. Lines of steamers from Canton, the Eastern
Archipelago, and the colonies of Australia would make
Singapore their centre of European communication ;
those from Calcutta and Madras would for the same

urpose be connected with Ceylon; and those froin

ombay, the Cape, and the Mauritius would join the
grand line at the island of Socotra. New Zealand
might perhaps be more advantageously connected, vid
the Isthmus of Panama, with the line of steamers
already established between England, the West Indies,
and the ports on the Gulf of Mexico. Some time or
other there is every probability that such a plan will
be in active operation.

We have given in the previous part of this article a
view of Suez from the sea. The town derives its sole
importance from its situation at the head of the western-
most gulf or arm in which the northern extremity of
the Red Sea terminates, which renders it the point of
communication between India and Europe ; and it is
the port where a large concourse of pilgrims annually
embark for Mecca. Suez is not of older date than the
early part of the sixteenth century; but the import-
ance of the situation asa place of transit has always
caused the existence of a city in the neighbourhood.
The population of Suez consists of about twelve hun-
dred Mohammedans and a hundred and fifty Chris-
tians. The place is pourly built and destitute of fresh
water, and here is no fertile land in the vicinity. A
bazaar, or street of shops, is tolerably well supplied
with goods from Cairo, and there are several khaus, or
inns built around large courts; but the houses are
generally of mean appearance. A commoedious hotel
has been established by Mr. Waghorn for the pas-
sengers to and from England and India. The town
ig surrounded by a poor wall on three sides, and there
isa harbour and a good quay on the seaward side. It
is about seventy miles fiom Cairo, between which
place and Suez there are seven station-houses erected
at the expense of the Bombay Steam Committee, and
which are rented by Messrs. Hilland Co. of the Pacha
of Egypt. The journey is performed in two-wheeled

vans, with a sort of tilt cover, carrying four persons
which carries

1842. ]

THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 237

six persons in summer and eight in winter. A light | and dromedaries are employed to transport the oe
f the

sedan is also used, slung upon poles, and carried b
two donkeys, one before and the other behind. Bot

assengers by each o

gage. The number of
om thirty to seventy each

Bombay steamers varies

horses and donkeys are used for the saddle ; and camels ! way.

POMEL Qk aie
Ot Ss ee oe he

[Hamburgh, from tne Alster._

HAMBURGH.

Tue Great Fire of London, the Burning of Moscow,
or the Earthquake at Lisbon in 1750, are the only
events in modern history which afford a fitting com-

rison to the recent conflagration at Hamburgh.

e most remarkable facts connected with the com-
mercial history of this important city have already
been given (No. 446); and the misfortune which has
just befallen it is a favourable opportunity for noticing
some other portions of its general history. In another
number we shall give an account, from authentic
sources, of the great fire which has deprived between
a fourth and a fifth of the entire population of house
and home, and rendered them for a time dependent on
the + heaaoeia of civilized men in every part of the
world.

In the ninth century Charlemagne had pushed his
conquests to the banks of the Elbe, and as the suill
pagan inhabitants did not submit very willingly to his
sword, he selected a somewhat elevated spot about
seventy-five miles from the German Ocean, on the
north bank of the Elbe and east bank of the Alster,
and laid the foundations of atown. This was Ham-
burgh, which, by the twelfth century, had become a
place of considerable trade, and would have been still
more flourishing if the Elbe and the German Ocean
had not been infested by robbers and pirates, who
harassed the commerce on which its prosperity mainly
depended. Hamburgh has the merit of having freed

the Elbe and neighbouring seas from these lawless vaga-
bonds. At the very period when our king John was
practising something very like piracy in the English
Channel, the citizens of Ham rab were avai
the means of freeing the seas from the robbers an
pe who obstructed the rising commerce of Europe.
or this purpose, in 1239 they concluded an alliance
with the inhabitants of Ditmarsch, at that time inde-
pendent, and those of the land of Hadeln; and two
years afterwards Lubeck joined in this confederacy,
which carried its objects into effect by maintaining
ships and soldiers to clear the coasts between the Elbe
and the Trave, and the waters from Hamburgh to the
ocean. This was the origin of the Hanseatic League,
which played so conspicuous a part in the commercial
history of the middle ages. Brunswick joined the two
other cities in 1247, and was constituted a staple, that
is, certain commodities could only be bought and sold
there. A commercial route was opened overland from
Brunswick to Italy, which then enjoyed the trade to
the Levant and India. Hamburgh and Lubeck thus
became the emporia for the produce of the East, of the
south of Europe, and the manufactures of Italy and Ger-
many, which were distributed in the various countries.
of the north of Europe in exchange for their raw pro-
duce. To carry on sucha trade with advantage the
Hansards established a large number of trading fac-
tories, and amongst others was one in London, which
afterwards became known as the Steel-yard. It was
situated between Thames-street and the river, a little

238

to the cast of Dowgate. Fora long period the Hans-
ards were very numerous and enjoyed important
commercial privileges. England was not then suffi-
ciently wealthy to carry on the commerce of the
country with native capital. :

Until the fifteenth century the town was confined
between the Elbe and the cast bank of the Alster, but
the population increasing, especially from immigration
of refugees from the Netherlands, the west bank of
the latter river began to be built upon. This part is
distinguished as the New Town. The repeated wars
in Germany, to the close of the eighteenth century,
had rather the effect of promoting the prosperity of
Ifamburgh than otherwise. It still continued the
chief seat of commerce in the north of Europe, and ‘at
the commencement of the present century might justly
be regarded as one of the most flourishing and opulent
cities on the Continent. Its misfortunes commenced
with the occupation of Hanover by the French in 1803.
They seized Cuxhaven, at the mouth of the Elbe, to
piven English ships coming up the river, and the

nglish closely blockaded the whole coast, so that
commerce was paralyzed, and that direct maritime
intercourse with so many countries, on which IHam-
burgh depended for its prosperity, was completely in-
terrupted. The French also laid the inhabitants under
contribution. In 1806 Hamburgh was occupied by a
large French corps under Marshal Mortier, and com-
relled to raise a sum of 640,000/. as a ransom for

cnglish goods in the warehouses of the merchants.
The Treaty of Tilsit did not make any great difference
in its real state, as it enjoyed only the shadow of its
former independence, and was not exempt from the
requisitions of the French generals. Napoleon’s
Berlin and Milan decrees, to destroy British commerce,
ruined the little remaining trade; and the sacrifices
which had been made for the preservation of English
merchandise and colonial produce, in a former year,
now proved unavailing, and all articles of this descrip-
tion were either confiscated or burnt. At the end of
1810 Hamburgh was incorporated with the French
empire as the capital of the department of the mouth
of the Elbe. Its fate as a great centre of commerce
appeared now to be sealed; but the very earliest op-
portunity of regaining independence was eacerly
seized, and when the Russians appeared at the gates
of Hamburgh early in 1813, and the French evacuated
the town, the old constitution was joyfully restored.
Unfortunately the Russians were unable to maintain
their position, and the French again entered, and, as
might be expected under such circumstances, punished
the inhabitants for the alacrity which they had shown
in greeting the arrival of the Russian troops. The
citizens were treated with a degree of severity which
excited indignation as well as sympathy, and were
called upon for a contribution of 2,000,000/. sterling.
During the siege of the town, which subsequently took
place, forty thousand of the inhabitants were driven
out of the town in the depth of winter, and the French
seized the treasure at the Bank, amounting to 700,000/.,
thus destroying for some time the source of future
credit when happier times arrived. . The town was
not relieved until May, 1814, and on the 26th the con.
stitution was once more restored. The indemnity
obtained from France at the peace was very inadequate.
The misfortunes which Hamburgh experienced up to
the close of the war are now fortunately only matters
of history. The public spirit of the citizens and the
favourable commercial position which Hamburgh
enjoys enabled it to regain more than its former pros-
perity. We trust that in a similar way it will more
than recover from the effects of its recent misfortune.

The site which Hamburgh occupies is nearly an
aval, about four miles in circumference. On the north

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

[June 18,

the Alster forms an extensive basin, about a thousand
feet in length, which is used for boating-parties. On
the south of this basin stand the best-built houses in
the city. This place is called the Ladies’ Walk, and is
planted with trees. The walk is continued to the
ramparts, which, since the peace, have been laid out
as a public garden and promenades, with a carriage-
way for three carriages abreast all round. North of
the basin above mentioned, which is formed by the
Inner Alster, is another, farther north, formed by the
Outer Alster, the banks of which are occupied by
the handsome residences of many of the merchants.
Six miles west of Hamburgh is another favourite spot,
where the most opulent persons in the city have their
country-houses. The Elbe admits vessels drawing
fourteen feet water at all times, and those of eigh-
teen feet at spring-tides. The old town contains
many canals, which are supplied chicfly by the
Elbe, but partly by the Alster, and are filled with
water each tide. Almost all the warehouses are close
to these canals. The strects, like most of the old
towns of the Continent, are narrow and gloomy; and
the general SpEcaene of the place by no means cor-
responds to the idea which its commercial importance
naturally excites. The houses are old-fashioned, and
many of them are either built of wood entirely, or
contain a large a pi of timber. At the same time
they are not particular 0 picturesque, and, as observed
in our former notice of Hamburgh, few of the public
buildings are very remarkable for their architecture
or history. The streets in the ‘new town’ are broader
and more recular; but the still newer town which
will shortly arise will no doubt exhibit great improve-
ments,

Until 1768 the kings of Denmark claimed the
sovereignty of Hamburgh as Counts of Holstein,
and its rights as a state of the empire were re-
cognised in .1618, though it did not obtain a seat or
a vote in the diet. Hamburgh frequently paid large
sums to avert attacks from Denmark: but the con-
clusion of a treaty with the House of Holstein in 1768
put an end to its claims ; and in 1770 it was confirmed
In its rights as a free city of the empire. The arch-
bishops of Bremen claimed the cathedral and the pro-
perty belonging to it, but it was assigned to Sweden in
1648, and afterwards passed to Hanover with the duchy
of Bremen. In 1802 the cathedral and its property
were finally secured to Hamburgh. On the 8th of
June, 1815, Hamburgh joined the Germanic confede-
ration as a free Hanseatic city. The constitution con-
sists of a senate, which acts under certain popular
limitations. The senate, which is composed of four
burgomasters and twenty-four senators, with four syn-
dics and four sccretaries, has the exccutive power, and
the sole right of proposing laws; but no laws can be
made and no taxes imposed without the consent of the
citizens in common hall. The citizens are divided
into five parishes, each of which chooses thirty-six
members to the council of one hundred and eighty,
consisting—1l. of fifteen elders, who are the guar-
dians of the laws, and have the affairs of the churches
and the poor under them; 2. of forty-five deacons,
nine from each parish, who with the elders form the
council of sixty; and, 3. of bas eter subdeacons
from each parish: all these are obliged to appear in
the common hall, where at least two hundred citizens
must be present. From this council is chosen the
board of sixty, and out of that the fifteen elders or
aldermen. Only the senators and the elders receive
salaries. For the adininistration of justice there are
various tribunals. In the last resort the decision is
with the High Court of Appeal for all the free citics
sitting at Liibeck. In the German diet Hamburgh

One vote in the deliberations, but in the select

1842.]

council it has a vote only in common with Liibeck,
Bremen, and Frankfort. Its contingent to the army
of the Confederation is one thousand two hundred
and ninety-eight imen, and its contribution to the
general fund five hundred florins per annum. It has
also a burgher guard of nine thousand infantry, cavalry,
and artillery. The territory of Hamburgh comprises
an area of about one hundred and fifty square miles
(including the city), and contains a population of one
hundred and forty thousand, the population of Ham-
burgh and its suburbs BBing about one hundred and
twenty thousand. Lutheranism is the religion of the
state, but all denominations enjoy toleration, with
the exception of the Jews, who labour under several
restrictions from which others are exempt.

The intercourse of England with Hamburgh is now
on a different footing from that on which it so long
existed during the middle agcs; but it is not less inti-
mate or advantageous than it was centuries ago. In
1837 one-third of the shipping which arrived at Ham-
burgh was from the ports of this country, chiefly
London and Hull. Their aggregate burden was one
hundred and sixty thousand tons, the proportion for
steam-boats being sixty-seven thousand five hundred

tons. There is always a large quantity of British
manufactured goods in the warehouses at Hamburgh.

(To be continued.)

SUFFERINGS OF TIIE PARTY COMPOSING
CAPTAIN GREY'S EXPEDITION OF DIS-
COVERY IN WESTERN AUSTRALIA.

(Continued from page 219.)

13th.— Art noon Captain Grey shared the damper with
Kaiber, who had become weak and dispirited for want
of food; and, had he been capable of searching for his
food, the vegetable productions of the country were,
with one or two exceptions, quite unknown to him.
Captain Grey says: ‘‘ It was almost a satisfaction to me
when the damper was gone, for, tormented by the
pangs of hunger as I had now been for many days, I
found that, nearly the whole of my time was passed in
strugeling with myself as to whether I should eat at
once all the provisions I had left, or refrain till a fu-
ture hour. Having completed this last morsel, I oc-
cupied myself for a little time with my journal, then
read a few chapters in the New Testament, and
having fulfilled these duties, I felt myself as con-
tented and cheerful as I had ever been in the most
fertunate moments of my life.” This day they walked
thirty-one miles, and encamped without having met
with water. Kaiber found some of the nuts of the
“Zamia-tree, and as they were dry, they could be eaten
with safety; but some of the men had eaten them be-
fore they were in this state, and were seized with
vomiting and vertigo, which still further reduced their
streneth. After the fires were lighted for the night,
the following little incident took place: Captain Grey
lieard Hackney, a young American, propose to Woods
(not the luiterer, but another man of the same name)
to offer the Captain a portion of their scanty allowance
of food, as he had shared his with the native. ‘ No,”
said Woods, “every one for himself under these cir-
cumstances; let Mr. Grey do as well as he can, and I
will do the same.” “ Well, then, I shall give him
some of mine, at all events,” said Hackney, and coming
up to Captain Grey, he offered him a morsel of damper
about the size of a walnut. After several refusals,
and being as often warmly pressed, he took it, know-
ing that if he came into a country with game he could
with his gun repay this act of kindness. Captain Grey
says that he was much affected by Hackney’s kindness,

THE PENNY

MAGAZINE. 239

and adds, “I regret that J felt more hurt than I onght
to have done at the remark of Wood.”

ld4th.—After a walk of fourteen miles the party
reached a small river, where the men made a soup of
about two table-spoonsful of flour in a pint and a half
of water. While halting here Kaiber found a native
store of By-yu nuts, but though the pangs of hunger
were so powerful, Captain Grey hesitated to mark
the approach of civilised man in the country of the
savage by an act of spoliation; when Kaiber resolved
this point by saying :-—“If we take all, this people
will be angered greatly; they will say, ‘What thief
has stolen here? track his footsteps, spear him through
the heart; wherefore has he stolen our hidden food ?’
But if we take what is buried in one hole, they will
say, ‘Hungry people have been here ; they were very
empty, and now their bellies are full: they may be sor-
cerers; now they will not eat us as we sleep.’” On
this the contents of one of the holes were shared
amongst the men, after which they started. One of
the men had an unsuccessful shot at a native dog, “a
fine fat fellow,” but Captain Grey killed a hawk, and
after giving the head and entrails to Kaiber, he divided
the rest equally with Hackney. After a painful walk
under af intensely hot sun, through an arid country
containing neither water nor signs of animal life, and
covered only with the prickly scrub, they encamped in
a very distressed state.

16th.—Searched the dried-up bed of a considerable
stream for water, but none was found, though some of
the pools were twelve or fourteen feet deep, and there
was a native well seven feet in depth. While thus
engaged the sun became nine hot, and it was
painful to witness the anxiety with which these poor
fellows sought for water “with eager piercing eyes,
and an air of intense scrutinizing watchfulness, pecu
liar to those who search for that on which their lives
depend.” Captain Grey has graphically described
this scene :— One while they a a shallow stomy
pe of the bed, which was parched up and blackened

y the fiery sun; their steps were slow and listless,
and I could plainly sce how faint, weak, and weary
they were: the next minute another pool would be
discerned a-head, the depth of which the eye could
not at a distance reach; now they hurricd on towards
it with a dreadful look of eager anxiety; the pool
was seen, the bottom reached, but alas! no water:
then they paused, and looked at one another with an
air of utter despair. As long as they remained on
the banks of this river-bed a glimmering of hope re-
mained; but I felt convinced (says Captain Grey)
from the gencral appearance of the country, that there
was not the slightest probability of our finding water
there, and resolved, thercfore, still to continue a direct
course. When I gave this order, the weak-minded
quailed before it: they would rather have perished
wandering up and down those arid and inhospitable
banks, than have made a great effort, and have torn
themselves away from the vain and delusive hopes
this watercourse held out to them.” Before night
they reached some dried-up swamps, in the midst of
which they encamped, but no water could be found,
though often in the night they started up in search
of it. Their lives now depended on the chance of
finding water within a very short time. The men had
been one night and two days without either food
or water, as flour could not be eaten without the
latter; but of flour only two had a supply consisting
of a table-spoonful or tyro, the remainder being en-
tircly destitute of prov 8, Captain Grey suffered
less than the others, excepting the native, as he habi-
tually took a very small quantity of water, and his
mind was occupied and amused by subjects which men

2-40

without education or with little intelligence do not
comprehend, and therefore they are the first to be
borne down by despondency. Captain Grey kept his
journal, read the New Testament, and therefore his
spirits were, as he says, “always good.”

17th.—This day, started before daybreak, and, as they
moved along, sucked the dew froin reeds and shrubs,
a resource which failed at sunrise. Hunger and
thirst had now so exhausted the men, that they were
unable to proceed more than a few hundred yards at
a time, when some of them would sit and beg most
-piteously for Captain Grey to wait for them. At two
o'clock in the afternoon only eight miles had been
accomplished. The sun shone ficrecly, and they were
apparently in a great tract of arid country. The
groans of the men were painful to hear, and their
thirst so agonizing, that they drank their urine.
Captain Grey now resolved to set out with Kaiber in
a last desperate search for water, while the men
rested. He soon began to stumble and fall from
excessive weakness, and, after wandering about for
some time, Kaiber declared he had lost his way. At
first Captain Grey believed him, and fired his gun,
but in vain listened for a repetition of the signal;
as the various reflections which the circumstance
sugecsted were passing through his mind, such as
returning to Perth with the shame of*saying that
he had saved himself and left the others to perish,
the native sat keenly eyeing every movement of his
features. At length he said, ‘Mr. Grey, to-day we
can walk and may yet not die, but drink water; to-
morrow you and J will be two dead men, if we walk
not now, for we shall then be weak and unable. The
others sit down too much; they are weak and cannot
walk: if we remain with them, we shall all die: but
we two are still strong; let us walk.” Pausing for
a minute, with steadfast look, he added :—“ You must
leave the others, for I know not where they are, and
wé shall die in trying to find them.” Kaiber had
intentionally led Captain Grey astray with a view of
inducing him to abandon the party. ‘‘Do you sce the
sun, Kaiber, and where it now stands?” said Captain
Grey, on perceiving how matters stood. “ Yes,” replied
Kaiber. “Then if you have not Jed me to the party
before that sun falls behind the hills, I will shoot you:
as it begins to sink, you dic.” This was spoken earn-
estly, and the threat was intended for execution; but
Kaiber still conceived that he might effect his purpose,
and again professed that he knew not the way. Cap.-
tain Grey now threatened to shoot Kaiber immediately,
unless he instantly retraced his steps. This rather
alarmed him, and he drew farther off, as if about to
run away, in which case Captain Grey would never
have been able to find the party ; so cocking his gun,
he called out to the native that he would fire upon
him instantly if he went beyond a certain distance, and
if he did not at once set out straight for the encamp-
ment. Kaiber was conquered, and in an hour Captain
Grey rejoined the party, who had been buoyed up by
the hope that he bad found water during his long
absence; but this, alas, was not the case. The symp-
toms produced by intense thirst were now most painful,
and Captain Grey describes those which he himself
expericuced :—" Not only was my mouth parched,
burning, and devoid of moisture, but the senses of
sight and hearing became much affected, I could
oo recognise the voices of the rest; and when
uncouth unnatural tones struck upon my ear, it took
me some time to collect myiuehts in order to un-
derstand what was said, somewhat in the way in which
one is obliged to act when roused suddenly from a
decp sleep. Tn the same way my sight had become
feeble and indistinct but by far the most distressing

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

[June 18,

sensation was that experienced upon rising up, after
having rested for a few moments; I then felt the
blood rush violently to the head, and the feeling
produced was as if it were driven by a forcing-pump
through all my veins.” Their circumstances were
now become so desperate, that Captain Grey deter-
mined that they should all make a last struggle for
their lives, and announced his intention of procceding
southward, slowly, but steadily, without once stopping
until he either found water or dropped from = ex-
haustion, and he gave notice fat no one who lingered
could be waited for. Every unnecessary instrument
was thrown aside, and the men set out with gaunt and
haggard looks, and already partially delirious from
their sufferings. Inan hour anda quarter they had
advanced two miles. They had now thirsted with an
intolerable and burning thirst for three days and two
nights, exposed to the glare of a fierce sun, and all the
while exerting themselves as strenuously as their
strength would permit. A very few hours must now
determine their fate. At this most critical moment
they came to a hole filled with moist mud, and Kaiber,
being the first to perceive it, drank up nearly one-
half of its contents. Captain Grey took some of this
liquid, if it could be so called, into his mouth, but it
was too thick to be swallowed, and he strained a little
througha handkerchief. Each man exclaimed, ‘Thank
God!” us he threw himself beside this muddy spring,
and, swallowing a few mouthfuls, asserted that 1t was
most delicious and had a superior flavour to any water
which he had ever tasted. The mud served in some
degree to satisfy the cravings of the stomach. The
hole was soon emptied, but on scraping it out the
water slowly trickled in, and it was probably the
sole spring ina vast desert, as numerous birds came
to it at nightfall, but Captain Grey's hand was so
tremulous that he could not kill any of them. He
afterwards proceeded to their roosting-places, and
killed one bird. The men cooked a spoonful of flour
in the liquid mud. They slept but little during the
night, repairing ever and anon to their much-valued
spring.
(To be continued.)

“

The Cliff-Crane.—This machine, invented by Mr. Johnston
of Brighton, is essentially applicable to those parts of the coast
which consist of abrupt and perpendicular cliffs, whose base
being lashed hy the waves, more especially during the prevalence
of a storm, precludes the possibility of access to vessels stranded
in such a sitnation, except by mechanical means. The object
of the inventor has been to combine simplicity and power. There
is nothing to adjust which can lead to confusion or failure; while
no less than four individuals at a time may with ease be raised
or lowered in the cradle attached to the machine ; and property
may be saved as well as human beings. The cost of the Brighton
machine scarcely amounted to 40/., including the crane-rope and
the whole of the appendages. Iron braces are used in every part
where strength is required; the main beam especially being
strengthened throughout the whole length on the upper surface
by an iron plate, in order to guard against the possibility of its
yielding in the event of any extra weight being imposed upon
it. The length of the coil of rope must, of course, be cautiously
proportioned to the highest cliff in the neighbourhood where the
machine is likely to be used. A shed is required in some con-
venient situation where it can be placed when not in use. It
is hoped that no part of the coast where it is peculiarly applica-
ble will be without such an apparatus as Mr. Johnston's. The
sixty-cighth ‘Report cf the Royal Humane Society contains an
engraving of the machine and its various parts, with directions
for using it. Whena wreck is discovered, horses are yoked to
the machine, and it is speedily conveyed to the edge of the cliffs;
the cradle is then lowered to their foot; and the shipwrecked
mariner is placed in it and drawn to the top.

1942.}

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
e

241

ral

Wun

(‘* With an old falconer, huntsman, and a kennel of hounds,
That never hawked net hunted but in his own grounds.
@

And a new smooth shovel-board whereon no victuals ne'er stood.’’]

rFHE OLD AND YOUNG COURTIER.
| No. VII.
SPORTS AND GAMES.

Our ballad-writer has here presented us with a con-
trast which is scarcely supported by the facts. The
“smooth shovel- board” was not new, nor probably
more in fashion than when Master Slender, in the
‘Merry Wives of Windsor,’ paid “two shilling and
twopence apiece” for “two Edward shovel-boards ;”
although certainly Prince Henry, the son of James,
was fond of the amusement, and, like Master Slender,
was particular in his selection of pieces to play with,
as is shown in the following anecdote given by Strutt
from a MS. in the Harleian collection :—‘‘ Once when
the prince was playing at shovel-board, and in his play

changed sundry pieces, his tutor, being desirous that |

even in trifles he should not be new-fangled, said to
him that he did ill to change so oft; and therewith
took a piece in his hand, and saying that he would
play well enough therewith without changing, threw
the piece on the board; yet, not so well but the prince,
smiling thereat, said, ‘Well thrown, Sir... Whereupon
Master Newton, telling him that he would not strive
with a prince at shovel-board, he answered, ‘ You
gownsmen should be best at such exercises, being not

No. 656.

meet for those that are more stirring.’ ‘ Yes,’ quoth
Master Newton, ‘I am meet for whipping of boys.
And hereupon the prince answered, * You need not
vaunt of that which a ploughman or cart-driver can do
better than you.’ ‘ Yes, I can do more,’ said Master
Newton, ‘for I can govern foolish children.’ The
rince, res a even in jesting, came from the
arther end of the table, and smiling, said, ‘He had
need be a wise man himself that could do that.’” In
this little scene the good-humoured forbearance of the
prince contrasts most favourably with the petulance of
the tutor, and strongly confirms the general opinion
as to the disposition and talents of the young Henry.
Shovel-boards were expensive, for, like the billiard-
table of modern times, they were required to be per-
fectly level, and much pains were therefore expended
on ew construction. Dr. Plot, in his ‘ History of
Staffordshire,’ says, that “‘in the hall at Chartley the
shovel-board table, though ten yards one foot and an
inch long, is made up of about two hundred and sixty
pieces, which are generally about eighteen inches long,
some few only excepted, that are scarce a foot, whic
being laid on longer boards for support underneath,
are so accurately joined and glued together, that no
shovel-board whatever is freer from rubs or castings.”

The shovel-board does not seem to have ever attained

Vou. XI.—2 [

any gambling pre-emiicace, for which it docs not
seem to have been well adapted—indced, old Izaak
Walton makes it the recreation of two of his anglers
during a rainy afternoon. At a late period it de-
seended to a lower rank, with considerable modifica-
tions, under the name of shove-groat, and yct lingers,
or did within a few ycars, in the tap-rooms of low
public-houses under that of shove-halfpenny.

As shovel-board was no modern innovation, neither
were hawking nor hunting discontinued or discoun-
tenanced, although the former was not in the palmy
state to which it had reached in more remote times,
when the possession of a hawk was a mark of nobility,
and the falconer was an important officer in most of
the households of Eurcpean courts, as he is nominally
still in that of England. Indeed, Shakspere, in ‘ All’s
Well that Ends Well,’ makes “a gentle astringer,”
or falconer, the means of introducing Helena to the
king :—

“ This man may help me to his majesty’s ear,
If he would spend his power” —

and he docs so. But Hentzner, in his ‘Itinerary,’
written in 1598, says that hawking was still the general
sport of the English nobility at that time; and Strutt,
in his ‘Sports and Pastimes,’ states “that in the reign
of James I., Sir Thomas Monson gave 10000. for a cast
(that is, two) of hawks.” In a letter also from Lord
Cecil, afterwards Earl of Salisbury, to the Earl of
Shrewsbury in 1603, he writes, “and so I end witha
rclease now to you fora field-hawk, if you can he)
me to a river-hawk that will flyin a high place. Stick
not to give gold, so that she fly high, but not else.”

We do not intend here to enter into any detailed
descriptions of sports or games, but only to notice
them in connection with the manners of the different
periods; and certainly those connected with hawking
co not induce us to join in the lament of the ballad
over its decay. Independent of their being the object
of many severe and oppressive laws, the habits of the
bird, requiring constant care in keeping it tame,
occasioned its intrusion into very improper places: of
this Strutt gives an instance in 1357, when “the Bishop
of Ely excommunicated certain persons for stealing
a hawk that was sitting upon her perch in the cloisters
of Bermondsey in Southwark ; but this piece of sacri-
lege was committed during divine service in the choir,
and the hawk was the property of the bishop,” which
was, no doubt, thought a great aggravation of the crime.
Tn the ‘Ship of Fools’ also, translated by Barclay in
1503, we find the following :—

“Tnto the church then comes another sotte,
Withouten devotion, jetting up and down,
Or to be seene, and showe his garded cote ;
Another on his fiste a sparhawke or fawcoue,
Or else a cokow; washing 8o his shone;
Before the aulter he to and fro doth wander
With even as great devotion as doth a gander ;
In comes another, his hounrles at his tayle,
With lynes and leases, and other like bazgaze ;
His dogzes barke, so that withouten fayle
The whole church is trouble by their outrage.”

This “outrage,” if we may take the description as
correctly applying to England, was, we sec, not con-
fined to hawks; but we know from other instances,
that the companionship was far more familar with
hawks than with hounds, and, borne upon the wrists of
both ladies and gentlemen, they were Introduced com-
monly into places, according to our present notions,
rot less inappropriate though less irreverend than
churches.

The boast also of not hawking or hunting “ but in
his own grounds,” was as seldom observed then, as the
latter is even now. In Shakspere’s ‘ Winter’s Tale,’

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.
*

[June 23,

Prince Florizel does not secm to have attended to any
such rule. He says to Perdita,
‘¢ I bless the time
When my good falcon made her flight across
Thy father’s ground.”

Even so Jate as 1625 Beaumont and Fietcher, in
their play of ‘Wit without M nats convey the iin-
pression that the falconer was still a domestic of a
superior character. Lance, a falconer, and the at-
tached servant of a master who has mortgaged his
estate, thus speaks of him, and of the changes of the
tiinc :—

“ His father kept good meat, good drink, good fellows,
Good hawks, good hounds, and bid his neighbours welcome ;
Kept him too, and supplied his prodigality,
‘Yet kept his state * still.

Must we turn tenants now (after we have livd

Under the race of gentry, and maintaiud

Good yeomanry) to some of the city,

To a great shoulder of mutton and a custard,

And have our state turn’d into cabbage-gardens ?

Must it be so?”

And he afterwards thus remonstrates with his master
himself :—
“Had you land, sir,
And honest men to serve your purposes,
Honest and faithful, and will you run away from them,
Betray yourself, and your poor tribe to misery ;
Mortgage all us, like old cloaks? Where will you hunt next ?
You had a thousand acres, fair and open :
The King’s Bench is enclosed, there's no good riding ;
The Counter’s full of thorns and brakes (take heed, sir)
And bogs.”

We here gain a glimpse of one of the principal
causes of the outcry as te the changes of manners and
the deterioration of the country. Commerce and in-
dustry were enabling ‘some of the city,” the “ great
shoulders of mutton and custards,” to acquire in vari-|
ous ways the estates of the “race of geutry;” to the
great dissatisfaction, no doubt, of the immediate suf-
ferers, the disgust of their companions of the same
class at the intrusion of such persons into their ranks,
and the discontent in general of the “ good yeomanry,”
who Abeta | found more strict landlords in the new
anaes than under the improvident and indolent

creditary owners; yet it was to these men that the
first impulse to agricultural linprovement was owing,
and at about this period.

With regard to hunting, it had been popular from
the earliest periods of our history, and so continued,
and continues. Queen Elizabeth was very partial to
the sport, and in all her progresses was entertained
at the mansions she visited with hunting partics,
following the hounds whenever the weather permitted.
In 1600, when she was seventy-six years of age, Row-
land Whyte writes to Sir Robert Sidney,t “ Her
Majesty is well, and excellently disposed to hunting,
for every second day she is on horseback, and con-
tinues the sport long.” At this tine she was residing
at her palace of Oatlands. The sport was pursued by
James with even more ardour than by his predecessor.
Welwood has said of this monarch, that he divided his
time between his standish, his bottle, and hunting ;
the last had his fair weather, the two former his dull
and cloudy. His devotion to the sport was so
extreme, that serious complaints were made of the
interruption it occasioned to the business of the
state. In 1604, while residing at Royston, Mr. Ed-
mund Lascelles writes thus of him to the Earl of
Shrewsbury :—" There was one of the king's special
hounds, called Jowler, missing one day. The king
was much displeased that he was wanted; notwith-

* State—this word is commonly used for estate,
+ Nichol’s ¢ Queen Elizabeth's Progresses.’

1812.]

standing went a hunting. The next day, when they
were on the field, Jowler came in amongst the rest, of
the hounds; the king was told of him, and was very
glad, and, looking on him, spied a paper about his
neck, and in the paper was written, ‘Good Mr. Jow-
ler, we pray you speak to the king (for be hears you
every day, and so doth he not us), that it will please
his majesty to go back to London, for else the country
will be undone; all our provision is spent already,

and we are not able to entertain him longer.’ It was
taken for a jest, and 80 Deraeta over, for his majesty
intends to lie there yet a fortnicht.” *

Bear-baiting and bull-baiting were pursued with as
much avidity under James as during the lifetime of
his predecessor, and in his ‘ Progresses’ there is
detailed a long account of the baiting of a lion by
three dogs in the Tower. James also introduced horse-
racing into England, and public races were established
at several places, particularly at Newmarket, at which
he was often present. Bear-baiting continued indeed
so popular, that Thomas Cartwright, in his ‘ Admoni-
tion to Parliament against the use of Common Prayer,’
published in 1572, says, “If there be a bear or a bull
to be baited in the afternoon, or a jackanapes to ride
on horseback, the minister hurrics the service over in
a shameful manner, in order to be present at the
show.” The theatre also continucd a general source
of amusement, but perhaps the following extract from
the ‘Progresses of Queen Elizabeth’ may afford the
most satisfactory piciure of the enjoyments of our
ancestors, and little or no alteration took place as to
them during the time of James J. ‘“ Without the city
are some theatres, where English actors represent,
almost every day, trazcdies and comedies to very nu-
merous audiences: these are concluded with music,
variety of dances, and the excessive applause of those
that are present. Not far from one oF these theatres,
which are built of wood, lies the royal barge, close to
the river; it has two splendid cabins beautifully orna-
mented with glass windows, painting, and gilding; it
is kept upon dry ground, and sheltered from the wea-
ther. There is still another place, built in the form
of a theatre, which serves for the baiting of bears and
bulls: they are fastened behind, and then worried b
great English bull-dogs; but not without great ris
to the dogs, from the horns of the one and the teeth of
the other; and it sometimes happens veel are kitled
upon the spot: fresh ones are immediately ee
in the place of those that are wounded or tired. ‘T'o
this entertainment there often follows that of whipping:
a blinded bear, which is performed by five or six inen
standing circularly with whips, which they exercise upon
him without any mercy, as he cannot escape from them
because of his chain; he defends hiinself with all his
force and skill, throwing down all who come within
his reach and are not active enough to get out of it,
and tearing the whips out of their hands and breaking
them. At these spectacles, and everywhere else, the
English are constantly smoking tobacco, and in this
manner: they have pipes on purpose, made out of
clay, into the further end of which they put the herb,
so dry that it may be rubbed into powder; and putting
fire to it, they draw the smoke into their mouths,
which they puff out again through their nostrils like
funnels, lone with it plenty of phlegm and defluxion
from the head. At these theatres fruits, such as
apples, pears, and nuts, according to the season, are
carried about to be sold, as well as ale and wine.’ +

But gambling continued through both periods, as it
had been for many ages previous, the besetting sin of
the English. Laws had been in vain enacted against
it from the time of the Saxons, Cards and dice were

* ¢ Progresses of Jamas J.’
¢ ‘Queen Elizabetn’s Progreszes,” vol. i1., 459, dto. edition.

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

243

the chief instruments, and as early as about 1360
Chaucer thus writes of the latter in his Pardcuer’s
Tale :—
“‘ Hazard is very mother of lesinys,

And of deceit, and cursed forswearings ;

Blaspheming of Christ, manslauzhter, nud waste also

Of chattels and of time, and furthermo

It is reproof and contrary of honour

For to ke held a common hazardour :

And ever the higher he is of «state,

The more hi is holden desolate;

If that a prince useth hazarderie,

In alle governance and policie,

He is as by common opinion

Yheld the lesse in reputation.”

During the reign of Elizabeth it was not much encou-
raged at court, and it was one of the regulations of Gray's
Inn, “that all playing at dice, cards, or otherwise, in
the hall, buttery, or butler’s chamber, should be thence-
forth barred and forbidden at all times of the year, the
twenty days in Christmas only excepted ;”’ but on the
accession of James it made rapidstrides. In 1604-5, on
the marriage of Sir Philip Herbert, the day after New
Year's Day, “the king played in the presence, and as
goad or 111 luck seldom comes alone, the bridegroom,
that threw for the king, had the good fortune to win
10007., which he had for his pains; the greatest part was
lost by my lord of Cranborne.”* This vice was of course
Soe pene with its almost inseparable associate, cheat-
ing, which was so common, even among what were
called gentlemen, as to be scarcely disavowed, but
looked on as a mark of cleverness. Strutt observes
that professed gamblers “will not trust to the deter-
mination of fortune, but have recourse to many neia-
rious arts to circumvent the unwary; hence we bear
of loaded dice, and dice of the high cut. The former
are inade heavier on one side ihan the other by the
insertion of a small portion of lead, and the latter may
be understood by the following anecdote in an anony-
mous MS., written about the reign of James I., and prc-
served in the Harleian Collection :—* Sir William Her-
bert playing at dice with another gentleman, there
rose some questions about a cast. Sir William's ant:-
ronist declared it was a four and a five; he as posi-
tively imsisted that it was a five and six; the otlicr
then swore, with a bitter imprecation, that it was xs
he said. Sir William then replied, ‘Thou art a per-
jured knave; for give me a sixpence, and if there be
a four upon the dice I will return you a thousand

ounds:’ at which the other was presently abashed,
‘or indeed the dice were false, and of a high cut, with-
out a four.”

The dramatists, from Shakspcre’s

For gourd and fullam helds,
And high and low beguile the rich and poor”’—

(cant terms for different sorts of cheating), which he
puts into the mouth of Pistol, down to the latest
writers of the time of Charles I., are full of allusions
to these practices. Of the infatuation produced by this
passion, and of the absurdities to which it led, we have
a humorous instance in the ‘ Wise Woinan of Hogsdon,’
a play by Thomas Heywood, published in 1638, but

robably written much earlier. Some gamesters

aving just left the table, one of the losers endeavours
to provoke a quarrel by daring the winners to con-
tradict the extravagant assertion that his hat is not
black nor made of wool, but the winners assent to
everything. At length the loser exclaims—

“Ali! finger,
Must you be set in gold, an not a jot of silver in my purse ?
A bale of fresli dice! Ho! come, at this ring.”

Gaming recommences, and fortune changes. The

* Mr. Chamberlain to Mr. Winwood, in ‘Progresses ol
James I,’

a4 THE PENNY

winners on the former occasion are losers now, and
they thus proceed :—

“Tl prove this hat of mine a helmet:
Which of you here dares say the coutrary ?

“Ch. Upon better recollection, ‘tis 80, indeed.

“ Sen, I say ‘tis made of wool.

“Ch. True, my losing had took away my senses,
Both of seeing and feeling; but better luck
Hath brought them to their right temper.
But come, a pox of dice; “tis time to give over.

“‘ Sen, All times are times for winners to give over,
But not for them that lose. Ill play till midnight
But I will change my luck.”

We conclude with one general example of gambling
and its consequences from Massinger’s ‘City Madam?’

“ Lord Lacy. Your hand, Master Luke; the world's much
changed with you,

Within these few months; then you were the gallant :
No meeting at the horse-race, cocking, hunting,
Shooting, or bowling, at which Master Luke
Was not a principal gamester, and companion
For the nobility.

© Luke. I have paid dear
For those follies, my good lord; and "tis but justice
That such as soar above their pitch, and will not
Re warn'd by my example, should, like me,
Share in the miseries that wait upon it.”

First Impressions in a Tropical Country.—I took a walk in
the country around Bahia this evening, and experienced those
wild and undescribable feelings which accompany the first
entrance into a rich tropical country. I had arrived just
towards the close of the rainy season, when everything was in
full verdure and new to me. The luxuriant foliage expanding
in magnificent variety, the brightness of the stars above, the
dazzling brilliancy of the fire-flies around me, the breeze laden
with balmy smells, and the busy hum of insect life making the
deep woods vocal, at first oppress the senses witha feeling of
novelty and strangeness, till the mind appears fo hover between
the realms of truth and falsehood.—Captain George Grey's

Expeditions of Discovery.

Miniatures on Marble.—Thin polished plates of white marble
have heen recently adopted by several French artists, as a substi-
tute fur ivory in miniature painting. The slices of marble are
cemented down upon a slicet of pasteboard, to prevent danger of
fracturing; they are said to take the colour with great freedom,
and to hold it with tenacity: while, at the same time, they are
incapable of any change by time, or the effects of heat or damp.
Ivory, it is well known, becomes yellow; and in hot climates
often splits or warps. It can only be obtained, also, of a very
limited size; whereas, these plates of the finest grained statuary
marble can be obtained of any size. Plates of about twelve
inches by ten inches are prepared of only about three-sixteenths
of an inch thick, and smaller ones thinner in proportion. Marble
has been occasionally used, before now, as a ale for painting
on in oi/s; but its application to miniature painting is certainly
new, and seems valuable,

Life in the © Bush’ in Western Australia.—On the banks of the
Williams we here found the establishment of an out-settler, of
which it would be difficult to convey an adequate idea: the
house consisted of a few upright poles, one end of each resting
on the ground, whilst the other met a transverse pole, to which
they were tied: cross-poles then ran along these, and to com-
plete the building a sort of rude thatch was tied on it. It was
open at both ends, and exposed to the loud wind, which, as the
situation was high, I found a very unpleasant visitor during the
night. Here we found a very large flock of sheep in fair con-
dition, also a well-supplied stock-yard, and cattle in beautiful
order ; upwards of twenty kangaroo «dogs completed the esta-
blishment. These settlers were, at the time I visited the Wil-
liams, four in number, consisting of one young man, two youths,
and a little boy. Four soldiers were quartered about sixteen

MAGAZINE. (June 23,

miles from them, and there was no other European within fifty
miles of the spot. The distance they bad to send for all stores
and necessaries was one hundred and twenty miles, and this
through a country untraversed by roads, and where they were
exposed fo the hostility of the natives in the event of any ill-
fecling arising on their part. Nothing can give a more lively
notion of the difficulties art privations undergene by first
settlers than the fact that, wren I left this hut, they had no
flour, tea, sugar, meat, or any provision whatever, except their
live stock, and the milk of the cattle; their sole dependence
for any other ‘article of food being the Kangaroo dogs, and the
only thing I was able to do, in order to better their situation, was
to leave them some shot. All other circumstances connected
with their position were on the same scale. They had but one
knife, an old clasp one; there was but one small bed, for one
person, the others sleeping on the ground every night, with little
or no covering; they had no soap to wash themselves or their
clothes, yet they submitted cheerfully to all their privations,
considering them as necessary attendants upon their situation.
Two of these out-settlers were gentlemen, not only by birth, but
also in thonght and manner; and, to tell the truth, I believe
they were far happier than many a young man I have seen
lounging about in England, a burden to himself and his friends;
for it must be borne in mind that they were realizing a future
independence for themselves. Many of the ills and privations
which they endured were, however, unnecessary, and were
entailed upon them by the mistaken system that (up to a recent
period) has been pursued at Swan River, of spreading to the
utmost their limited population.—Captain Grey's Expedition of
Discovery in Western Austraka.

The Art of Printing in Bombay.—The ‘ Bombay Times’ of
March lst (Overland dition), after apologising for ‘ some
enormous typographical errors,” which had occurred during
the illuess of the Editor and chief corrector of the press, says :—
“Tf the English reader had any idea of the frightful state of
backwardness of the typographic art in Bombay, he would
wonder Jess that blunders of this sort should be continually
occurring, than that a Bombay paper should be made legible at
all. Our compositors are chiefly Portuguese, who understand
next to nothing of the English language, and who care nothing
whatever hew their work is done, because they know we are at
their mercy; and who, moreover, on the occurrence of a saint's
day or native festival, will decamp without warning from the
office, whatever the emergency. A first proof from them is
more like a galley-full of pie than a piece of compositorship
intended to be read; and it is only by the incessant and per-
severing labour of one able and industrious presiding reader,
over divers others of inferior responsibility, that we are able to
produce a paper at all intelligible. The sickness of one or two
of the trustworthy men in the office utterly disables us: there is
no resource to fall hack upon. <A steady English compositor
could earn from 10/. to 15/. a month without the smallest
trouble, working from 10 a.m. to &5p.m. This class of European
workmen in other departments so generally drink themselves
to death in Bombay, that no printing-office here has as yet run
the risk of paying their passage out. We shall certainly be
driven to it shortly. The expense of printing here, waste of
material, and wages, taken together, is about four times what it
is in London. Bombay, for sober men of good constitution, has
one of the finest intertropical climates in the world: to the
tippler or drunkard it is instantly fatal.” The ‘ Malta Times’
states that several Maltese compositors haye resolved to emigrate
to Bombay. The printers of Malta, it is added, are sober men,
and usually regular in their habits, but are accustomed to observe
a great number of religious holydays and festivals. The
‘Bombay Times’ of April Ist returns again to the difficulties
experienced in printing-offices in that quarter. It says :—“ The
largest-sized printing establishment in Bombay turns ont about
as much work asa third-rate newspaper office in a provincial
town in England, where the whole operative force would amount
probably to four journeymen compositors, with a3 many appren-
tices and pressmen, the apprentices folding and delivering the

pers. In Bombay, to perform a similar amount of wok,
orty compositors are requisite, with eight or fen pressmen. Not
one of these, however, would pollute his hands by fulding a paper,
go that for this an establishment of four or five Portuguese hook-
binders must he maintained. The delivery isa totally separate
matter, and, for this purpose, fron ten to a dozen delivery ‘ peons ’

are kept.”

— «4,

1342.1

oS
ot

THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 245

eat Se NS
; ANT ANN} :

{The Trout.)

THE TROUT.

Tue Trout is common in all the rivers and lakes of
Great Britain, and affords excellent diversion to the
angler, though great patience and skill are required
in catching it, in consequence of its vigilance and the
extreme rapidity of its movements. In appearance
the trout varies considerably: it has been thought that
several species exist, but it is more probable that the
soil and situation of the different rivers which this fish
inhabits cause the varieties in size and colour which
have been noticed by British naturalists. The trout
sometimes lives toa great age, and attains an enor-
mous weight.* Mr. Yarrell, in his‘ History of British
Fishes,’ tells us of a trout caught at Salisbury ina
little stream branching from the Avon, whose weight,
on being taken from the water, “was found to be
twenty-five pounds. Mrs. Powell, at the bottom of
whose garden the fish was first discovered, placed it
in a pond, where it was fed and lived four months, but
had decreased in weight at the time of its death to
eagle pounds and a quarter.” Mr. Oliver, in
his ‘Scenes and Recollections of Fly-fishing,’ speaks
of a trout “taken in the neighbourhood of Great
Driffield, in September, 1832, which measured thirty-
one inches in length, twenty-one in girth, and weighed
seventeen pounds.” Trout of twelve and fifteen pounds
weight have been caught in the Thames near Kingston
and Chertsey, some measuring twenty-eight inches
and upwards in length. Izaak Walton says :—*“ It is
well known that in the Lake Leman (the Lake of
Geneva) there are trouts taken of three cubits long;

* For examples of the variations of size, see ‘Penny Mag.,’
No. 632

as is affirmed by Gesner, a writer of good credit; and
Mercator says the trouts that are taken in the Lake
of Geneva are a great part of the merchandize of that
famous city. And you are further to know, that there
be certain waters that breed trouts remarkable both
for their number and smallness. I know a little brook
in Kent, that breeds them to a number incredible, and
you may take them twenty or forty in an hour, but
none greater than about the size of a gudgeon.” It
has been found difficult to ascertain what the greatest
age is that a trout may attain. Mr. Oliver says that
in 1809 “a trout died which had been for twenty-eight
ears an inhabitant of the well at Dumbarton Castle.
t had never increased in size from the time of its
being put in, when it weighed about a pound; and
had become so tame, that it would receive its food
from the hands of the soldiers.” Mr. Yarrell informs
us that “in August, 1826, the ‘ Westmoreland Adver-
tizer’ contained a paragraph stating that a trout had
lived fifty-three years in a well in the orchard of Mr.
William Mossop, of Board Hall, near Broughton-in-
Furness.” a
The trout is justly esteemed admirable food : it is
considered to be in perfection in the month of site
“The trout,” says Trask Walton, “is a fish highly
valued, both in this and foreign nations. He may be
justly said, as the old poet said of wine, and we English
say of venison, to be a generous fish; a fish that 1s so
like the buck, that he also has his seasons; for it is
observed that he comes in and goes out of season with
the stag and buck. Gesner says his name is of a
German offspring; and says he is a fish that feeds
clean and purely, in the swiftest streams, and on the
hardest gravel; and that he may justly contend with

Diaitized bv
YIMIUIZOU Ly

246

all fresh-water fish, as the mullet may with all the sea-
fish, for precedency and daintiness of taste, and that
being in right season, the most dainty palates have
allowed precedency to him.” The trout usually feeds
upon small fish, frogs, and insects. In Mr. Stoddart’s
‘Art of Angling as practised in Scotland,’ an experi-
ment is mentioned as being made with soine trout, a
few years back, for the purpose of ascertaining the
effect produced upon them by different food. ‘ Fish
were placed in three separate tanks, one of which was
supphed daily with worms, another with live minnows,
and the third with those small dark-coloured water-
flies which are to be found moving about on the sur-
face under banks and sheltered places. The trout fed
with worms grew slowly, and had a lean appearance ;
those nourished on minnows, which, it was observed,
they darted at with great voracity, became much larger ;
while such as were fattencd upon flies only attained
in a short time prodigious dimensions, weighing twice
as much as both the others together, although the
quantity of food swallowed by them was in nowise so
great.” The spawning season with the trout is genc-
rally in October or November, but sometimes a little
sooner or later. In this the trout differs from most
other fish, who usually spawn in the spring months,
and some few in the summer. The trout is generally
caught with a minnow, a worm, or a natural or an
artificial fly, and those of a large size usually with a
net. Mr. Yarrell records an anecdote relative to trout-
catching, which was found in the MS. of the late
Colonel Montagu. “Mr. Popham, of Littlecot, in the
county of Wilts, was famous for a trout fishery. They
were confined toa certain portion of a river by grating,
50 that fish of a moderate size could not escape. To
the preserving and fattening these fish much trouble
aid expense were devoted, and fish of seven and eight
0unds Weight were not uncommon. A gentleman at
Packt, in the same county, had a favourite water-
spanicl that was condemned to suffer death for killing
all the carp in his master’s ponds, but was reprieved
at the desire of Mr. Popham, who took charge of him,
in the belicf that so shy and so swift a fish as a trout
was not to be caught by a dog. However, in this he
was mistaken, for the dog soon convinced him that his
largest trout were nota match for him.” Izaak Wal-
ten gives very long directions for finding and selecting
the worms and minnows to be used as bait for catching
trout; as well as a full description of the manner of
making the artificial fly. ‘“ And if he (the angler) hit
to make his fly right, and have the luck to hit also
where there is store of trouts, a dark day, and a right
wind, he will catch such store of them as will en-
courage him to grow more and more in Icve with the
art cf fly-making.” Trout have been easily caught by
a natural fly or minnow, when it has been found im-
possible to do so by means of an artificial fly. The
author of the elegant little work entitled ‘Salmonia,
or Days of Fly-Fishing,’ says: “I have known a fish
that I have pricked retain his station in the river, and
refuse the artificial fly, day after day, for weeks toge-
. ther, but his memory may have been kept awake by
this practice, and the recollection seems local and
associated with surrounding objects; and if a pricked
trout is chased into another pool, he will, I believe,
soon again take the artificial-fly. Or if the objects
around him are changed, as in autumn, by the decay
of weeds, or by their being cut, the same thing happens;
and a flood, or a rough wind, I believe, assists the fly-
fisher, not merety by obscuring the vision of the fish,
but, in ariver much fished, by changing the appear-
ance of their haunts: large trouts almost always
occupy particular stations, under or close to a large
stone or tree; and, probably, most of their recollected
sensations are connected with this dwelling.”

THE PENNY.

MAGAZINE. [June 25,

“You are to know,” says Izaak Walton, “there is
night as well as day fishing for a trout; and that in
the niht the best trouts cone out of their holes; and
the manner of taking them is on the top of the water,
with a great lob or garden-worm, or rather two, which
you are to fish with in a place where the waters run
somewhat quietly, for in a stream the bait will not be
so well discerned. I say, in a quiet or dead place,
near to some swift; there draw your bait over the top
of the water, to and fro, and if there be a good trout in
the hole, he will take it, especially if the night be
dark, for then he is bold, and lies near the top of the
water, watching the motion of any frog or water.rat
or mouse that swims betwixt him and the sky: these
he hunts after, if he sees the water but wrinkle or
move in one of these dead holes, where these great old
trouts usually lie, near to their holds: for you are to
note, that the great old trout is both subtil and fearful,
and lies close all day, and docs not usually stir out of
his hold, but lies in it as close in the day as the timo-
rous hare does in her form, for the chief feeding of
either is seldom in the day, but usually in the night,
and then the great trout feeds boldly. And you must
fish for him with a strong line, and nota little hook ;
and let him have time to gorge your hook, for he does
not usually forsake it, as he oft will in the day-fishing.
And if the night be not dark, then fish with an arti-
ficial fly of a light colour, and at the snap; nay, he
will sometimes rise at a dead mouse, or a piece of
cloth, or anything that seems to swim across the water
or be in motion. This is a choice way, but I have not
oft used it, because it is void of the pleasures that such
days as these, that we two now enjoy, afford an analer.
And you are to know, that in Hampshire, which I
think exceeds all England for swift, shallow, clear,
pleasant brooks, and store of trouts, they used to catch
trouts in the night, by the light of a torch or straw,
which, when they have discovered, they strike with a
trout- spear, or other ways. This kind of way they
catch very many; but I would not believe it till I was
an eye-witness of it, nor do I like it now I have secn
it.” If the angler is unsuccessful after making two or
three trials in one place, he may suppose there are no
trout at all there, as they accept the bait very soon.
The author of ‘Salmonia’ tells us how to distinguish
the trout from other fish. “ You may always know a
large trout when feeding in the evening. He rises
continuously, or at small intervals, in a still water
almost always in the same place, and makes little
noise, barely elevating his mouth to suck in the fly,
and sometimes showing his back-fin and tail. A large
circle spreads around him, but there are seldom any
bubbles when he breaks the water, which usually indi-
cate the coarser fish.”

SUFFERINGS OF THE PARTY COMPOSING
CAPTAIN GREY'S EXPEDITION OF DIS-
COVERY IN WESTERN AUSTRALIA.

(Concluded from page 240.)

On the morning of the 18th the whole party felt
stronger, but were still exceedingly feeble. This day
they reached a river which abounded with fresh-water
mussels, and they were again reireshed. The night
was stormy and intensely cold, and in their present
condition all suffered severcly. Captain Grey had
lost the power of moving his extremities when the
morning came, and the rheumatism attacked him in
the hip, where he had received a wound trom a native
spear in an attack made upon him and two others by a
party of the natives before the boats were wrecked.
On the 19th they tasted no food, and travelled twen-
ty-one miles, The night was again stormy and cold.
20ih. All rose crippled and stiff from cold and wet,

1812.]

Captain Grey states that from weakness and weariness
he “had much the same inclination to sink into the
slecp of death that one feels to take a second slumber
in the morning after great fatigue.” But he roused
his energies, and the party set out. At nvon they had
oaly advanced at the rate of a mile and a quarter an
hour, when they came upon a party of natives, one of
whem, named ihibat Captain Grey had befriended at
Perth. ‘The wretched wanderers were now regaled
with frogs, roasted by-yu nuts, Captain Grey being
treated with a fresh-water tortoise. Imbat reported
that one of the colonists was at a hut about seven
miles off, where he had provisions, and Captain Grey
started with Imbat for the spot as soon as he was
slightly refreshed, but the hut was deserted. Imbat
arain put his culinary talents into exercise ¢for the
eap‘ain’s benefit, railying him for the apparently pro-
fitless task which he had underxtakea. “ What for do
you,” said Imbat, “who have plenty to eat, and much
money, walk so far away in the bush? You are thin,
your shanks are long, your belly is small—you had
plenty to eat at home, why did you not stop there?”
Inquired Imbat. The Captain replied: ‘Imbat, you
comprehend nothing, you know nothing.” “I know
nothing!’ answered he; “I know how to keep myself
fat: the young women look at me and say, Tmbat is
very handsome: he is fat. They will look at you and
say, he not good—long legs—what do you know?
where is your fat? what for do you know so much if
you can't keep fat? I know how to stay at home, and
19% to walk too far in the bush: where is your fat?”
“You know how to talk, long tongue,” was the Cap-
fain’s reply; on which Imbat langhed immodcrately,
saying, “And I know how to make you fat,” suit-
inv the action to the word by stuffing his host with
frogs and by-yu nuts. The remainder of the party
reached the hut, where they all slept, and thus were
in some degree sheltered trom the rain. Somme tea
was discovered, which, with the frogs, furnished a
grateful entertainment.

April 21—An hour and a half before day-break
Cap?ain Grey was on his road to Perth, accompanied
by Imbat, having appointed a place where he would
send provisions for the others. Arriving at the
cottage of a colonist named Williams, who resided
farthest north from Perth, and where he had often
obtained a glass of milk, he was taken for a crazy
Malay who was in the habit of calling at the cottage.
‘“Why, Magic, what’s the matter with you?” said Mrs.
Williams. Matters being explained, water was put
on to boil, and Captain Grey enjoyed a comfortable
breakfast, and soon afterwards the remainder of the
party came up, and he proceeded onward, not without
suffering greatly from too profuse a meal. He next
reached the house of a friend, who did not know him,
and having taken a tea-spoonful of brandy, again went
on, and soon reached Perth, and had an immediate in-
terview with the governor, who “could scarcely credit
his sight when he beheld the miserable object that
stood before him. Some of Captain Grey's friends,
to whom he went up and offered his hand, drew
back, and said, “I beg your pardon, who are you?”
Ife now enjoyed the luxury of a bed, after having
for nearly three consecutive months slept on the
ground in the open air, and before he had retired to
rest the remainder of the men composing the advanced
party arrived, and thus six individuals were preserved.

Not an instant was lost in sending a party in eearch
of the men from whom Captain Grey had parted on the
10th, but we have not space for an account of their
proceedings. One man was found asleep on a part of
the coast, but the party returned to Perth on the Gih
of May, without having discovered the five others.
A fresh party was then sent after them, and two days

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

247

afterwards Mr. Walter, the surgeon, reached Perth
alone. On the 16th of May, three of the others
were discovered by the exploring party in a dreadful
condition. They had been three days without water,
and their canteens contained only urine. Ten minutes
before, one of the men had been on his knees sup-
plicating Providence for their preservation; and they
certainly could not have survived more than another
night. r. Frederick Smith, a young gentleman aged
eighteen, grandson of Mr. Smith, formerly member for
Norwich, was now the only person missing. He was
found dead, and his grave was dug on the spot where
he had expired.

The geographical results of the expedition, which
extended from Cape Cuvier, in 24° south latitude, to
the Swan River, may be thus sumined up:—Ten rivers
were discovered, ‘some of them being larger than any
yet found in the south-west of this continent: many
sinaller streams were also found:” also two mountain
ranges were discovered, the Victoria Range and Gaird-
ner’s Range. ‘The former is the eastern boundary of
the extensive district of fertile country called by Cap-
tain Grey the Province of Victoria, which extends
north and south a distance of more than fifty miles,
and from the coast to the base of the range occupies
a breadth of twenty to twenty-five miles, Gairdner’s
Range “forms a very important feature in the geo-
graphy of this part*of Australia.” Two other extensive
districts of good land were also found; one watercd
by the Gascoyne, which falls into Sharks’ Bay, in the
centre of the west coast of Australia, and another
nearer Perth.

CARDINAL WOLSEY AFTER HIS FALL.
(Coneluded from page 235.]

“Upon Monday in the morning, as I stood by his
bed-side, about eight of the clock, the windows being
close shut, having wax lights burning upon the cup-
board, I beheld him, as me scemed, drawing fast to
his end. He perceiving my shadow upon the wall
by his bed-side, asked who was there: ‘Sir, I am
here,’ quoth I. ‘Tow do you? quoth he to me.
‘Very well, sir” quoth I, ‘if I might see your grace
well.’ ‘What is it of the clock? said he to me.
‘Forsooth, sir,’ said I, ‘it is past eight of the clock in
the morning.’ ‘ Eight of the clock ?’ quoth he; ‘ that
cannot be;’ rehearsing divers times, ‘ cight of the
clock, eight of the clock ;’ ‘ Nay, nay,’ quoth he at last,
“it cannot be eight of the clock: for by eight of the
clock ye shall lose your master: for my time draweth
near that J must depart out of this world.’ ”

The rapacity of the king is strikingly exhibited in
the following passaze: “ And after dinner, Master
Kingston sent for me (Cavendish) into his chamber,
and at my being there, said to me, ‘So it is that the
king hath sent me letters by this gentleman, Master
Vincent, one of your old companions, who hath been
of late in trouble in the Tower of London for moncy
that my lord should have at his last departing from
him, which now cannot be found. Wherefore the
king, at this gentleman’s request, for the declaration of
his truth, hath sent him hither with his grace’s letters
directed unto me, commanding me by virtuc thereof
to examine my lord in that behalf, and to have your
counsel herein, how it may be done, that he may take
it well and in good part. This is the chief cause of
my sending for you; therefore I pray you what is
your best counsel to use in this matter for the true
acquittal of this gentleman? ‘Sir, quoth I, ‘as
touching that matter, my simple advice shall be this,
that your own person shall resort unto him and visit
him, and in communication break the matter unto
him; and if he will not tell the truth, there be that

248 THE PENNY

can satisfy the king’s pleasure therein ; and in anywise
speak nothing of my fellow Vincent. And I would
not advise you to tract the time with him; for he is
very sick, and I fear me he will not live past to-
morrow inthe morning.’ Then went Master King-
ston unto him, and asked first how he did, and so
forth proceeded in communication, wherein Master
Kingston demanded of him the said money, saying,
‘ That my lord of Northumberland hath found a book
at Cawood that reporteth how ye had but fifteen
hundred pounds in ready money, and one penny
thercof will not be found, who hath made the king
privy by his letters thereof. Wherefore the king hath
written unto me, to demand of you if you know where
it is become ; for it were pity that it should be em-
bezzled from you both. Therefore, I shall require
you, in the king’s name, to tell me the truth herein,
to the intent that I may make just report unto his
majesty what answer ye make therein.’ With that my
lord paused awhile and said, ‘Ah, good Lord! how
much doth it grieve me that the king should think in
me such deceit, wherein I should deceive him of any
one penny that I have. Rather than I would, Master
Kingston, embezzle, or deceive him of a mite, I would
it were moult, and put in my mouth;’ which words he
spake twice or thrice very vehemently. ‘Ihave nothing,
ne never had (God being my judge), that I esteemed,
or had in it any such delight or pleasure, but that I
took it for the king’s goods, having but the bare use
of the same during iny life, and after my death to
leave it to the king ; wherein he hath but prevented
my intent and purpose. And for this money that
ae demand of me, I assure you it is none of mine ; for
borrowed it of divers of my friends to bury me, and
to bestow among my servants, who have taken great
pains about me, like true and faithful men. Not-
withstanding, if it be his pleasure to take this money
from me, I must hold me therewith content. Yet I
would most humbly beseech his majesty to see them
satisfied, of whom I borrowed the same for the dis-
charge of my conscience.’ . . . ‘Sir,’ quoth Master
Kingston, ‘there is no doubt in the king; ye need
not to mistrust that, but when the king shall be ad-
vertised thereof, to whom I shall make report of your
request, that his grace will do as shall become him.
But, sir, I pray you, where is this money?’ ‘ Master
Kingston,’ quoth he, ‘I will not conceal it from the
king ; I will declare it to you, or (ere) I die, by the grace
of God. Take alittle patience with me, I pray you.’
‘Well, sir, then will t trouble you no more at this
time. trusting that ye will show me to-morrow.’ ”
“Howbeit my lord waxed very sick, most likeliest
to die that night, and often swooned, and, as me thought,
drew fast toward his end, until it was four of the clock
in the morning, at which time I asked him how he
did: ‘Well,’ quoth he, ‘if I had any meat; I pray you
give me some.’ ‘Sir, there is none ready,’ said I. «J
wis,’ quoth he, ‘ ye be the more to blame, for you should
have always some meat for me in a readiness, to eat
when my stomach serveth me; therefore I pray you
get me some; for I intend this day, God willing, to
make me strong, to the intent I may occupy myself in
confession, and make ime ready to God.’” The dying
man ate a spoonful or two. ‘ Then was he in confes-
sion the space of an hour. And when he had ended
his confession, Master Kingston bade him good-morrow
(for it was seven of the clock in the morning), and
asked him how he did. ‘Sir,’ quoth he, ‘I tarry but
the will and pleasure of God, to render unto him
my simple soul into his divine hands.’ ‘Not yet so,
sir, quoth Master Kingston, ‘with the grace of God,
ye shall live, and do very well, if ye will be of good
cheer.’ ‘Master Kingston, my disease is such that I
cannot live; I have had some experience in my

MAGAZINE. [JUNE 25, 1842,
disease, and thus it is: I have a flux, with a continual
fever; the nature whereof is this, that if there be no
alteration with me of the same within eight days, then
must either ensue excoriation of the entrails, or frenzy,
or else present death; and the best thereof is death.
And as I suppose, this is the eighth day ; and if ye see
in me no alteration, then is there no remedy (although
I may live a day or twain) but death, which is the
best remedy of the three.’ ‘Nay, sir, in good faith,’
quoth Master Kingston, ‘you be in such dolor and
pensiveness, doubting that thing that indeed ye need
not to fear, which maketh you much worse than ye
should be.’ ‘ Well, well, Master Kingston,’ quoth he,
“I see the matter against me how it is framed: but if
I had served God as diligently as I have done the king,
he wowd not have given me over in my grey hairs.
Howbeit this is the just reward that J must receive for
my worldly diligence and pains that I have had to do
him service; only to satisfy his vain pleasure, not
regarding my sodly duty. Wherefore I pray you, with
all my heart, to have me most humbly commended
unto his royal majesty ; beseeching him in my behalf
to call to his most gracious remembrance all matters
proceeding between him and me, from the beginning
of the world unto this day, and the progress of the
same: and most chiefly in the weighty matter yet
depending (meaning the matter newly began between
him and the good queen Katherine), then shall his
conscience declare whether I have offended him or no.
He is sure a prince of royal courage, and hath a
princely heart ; and rather than he will either miss or
want any part of his will or appetite, he will put the
loss of one-half of his realm in danger. For I assure
you I have often knecled before him in his privy
chamber on my knees, the space of an hour or two, to
persuade him frem his will and appetite: but I could
never bring to pass to dissuade him therefrom. There-
fore, Master Kingston, if it chance hereafter you to be
one ofthis privy council, as for your wisdom and other
qualities ye are meet to be, I warn you to be well
adviscd and assured what matter ye put in his head,
for ye shall never put it out again.’ ”
* The narrative then goes on to exhibit a long speech
of the Cardinal’s against “this new pernicious scct of
Lutherans.” At last Wolsey said: “* Master Kingston,
farewell; I can no more, but wish all things to have
good success. My time draweth on fast. I may not
tarry with you. And forget not, I pray you, what I
have said and charged you withal: for when I am
dead, ye shall peradventure remember my words much
better.’ And even with these words he began to draw
his speech at length, and his tongue to fail ; his cyes
being set in his head, whose sight failed him. Then
we began to put him in remembrance of Christ's
assion ; and sent for the abbot of the place to anneal
bi who came with all speed, and ministered unto
him all the service to the same belonging ; and caused
also the guard to stand by, both to hear him talk before
his death, and also to witness of the same ; and incon-
tinent the clock struck eight, at which time he gave up
the ghost, and thus departed he this present life. And
calling to our remembrance his words, the day before,
how he said that at eight of the clock we should lose
our master, one of us looking upon another, supposing
that he prophesied of his departure.

“Here is the end and fall of pride and arrogancy of
such men, exalted by fortune to honours and high
dignities; for I assure you, in his time of authority
and glory, he was then the haughtiest man in all his
proceedings that then lived, having more respect to
the worldly honour of his person than he had to his
spiritual profession ; whercin should be all meckness,
humility, and charity ; the process whereof I leave tu
them that be learned and seen in divine Jaws ”.

ee, a om 5

SuPPLEMENT. |

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

A DAY AT A COPPER AND LEAD FACTORY.

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(Coppersmith’s Shop.— Messrs. E. and W. Pontifex's Factory.]

_ Among the three or four public thoroughfares lead-
ing from Holborn to Fleet Street, is one wherein the
“clinking of hammers” may be heard at all hours of
the day, and frequently of the night too. The labours
of the “ Copper-smith” are in no part of London exhi-
bited on a more extensive scale than in Shoe Lane, the
thoroughfare here alluded to, in which are many fac-
tories for articles of copper, and also of brass,’ lead,
tin, and other metals. To one of these factories, viz.,
that of Messrs. E. and W. Pontifex and Wood, we
shail direct our attention in the present article, those
gentlemen having liberally given the requisite per-
mission.

As we have endeavoured in each number of this
series of supplements to give a brief outline of some
one particular branch of manufacture, in connexion
with the establishment visited, we must here make a
remark or two on the mode in which many of the
manufactures in metal are conducted. All the iron,
the copper, the lead, the tin, of which such innumerable
articles are manufactured in London, come to the me-
tropolis in a more or less prepared state. The iron, for
example, is brought into the state of ‘cast-iron’ or ‘ pig-
iron’ or ‘bar-iron’ at the iron-works in Wales, Scotland,
or the Midland Counties; and is re-cast or re-forged
on a smaller scale in London. So likewise the copper,
the tin, and the lead are brought into a purified state at

the smelting-works in the country, and co verted into |

No. 657,

the various forms at the London establishment. It
therefore often happens that the routine of operations
necessary for one Kind of metal so nearly resembles
that required for another, as to lead to the combination
of both under one establishment. This is the case at
the factory to which our attention will be here directed,
and indeed the combination of trades is here so con-
siderable, that a further explanation is necessary.
Messrs. Pontifex and Wood undertake the entire ar-
rangements connected with the ‘ fitting-up’ of sugar-
refineries, distilleries, and breweries, in all of which
copper utensils are used on an extensive scale; and
the iron and other metal work required is also finished
and adjusted at the establishment. The wooden vessels
called ‘backs’ and ‘ vats,’ used in these three branches
of manufacture, are likewise made here, as are also
lead-pipes and sheet-lead. The various trades, there-
fore, oe ‘copper-smiths,’ ‘ brass-founders, ‘ engine-
makers,’ lend soamutactarets’ ‘back and vat makers,’
and others to be enumerated hereafter, are all com-
bined by this firm.

Under these circumstances, a detailed account of all
the operations would be wholly beyond our range in
this article: we shall therefore only give a general
description of the factory and its internal economy,
together with the operations of the copper, lead, and
mixed-metal manufacture.

On proceeding from Holborn to Farringdon Market,

250 THE PENNY
through the narrow, crooked thoroughfare of Shoe
Lane, we come to an open warehouse, on the outside
of which are generally cranes, and porters employed
in loading waggons with various manufactured arti-
cles of lead or copper. Into this warehouse, which
immediately adjoins the northern side of the market,
we enter, and sce aruund us a mixed assemblage of
rolls of lead, coils of pipe, cog-wheels, parts of
machinery, and other articles of metal. Before
analyzing the dark, the dirty, the busy, the noisy
scene which the ground-floor of the factory presents,
we will descend a flight of iron steps leading there-
from, and grope our way through a scries of under-
ground vaults. These vaults are used principally as
store-rooms for metal in the crude and the partially-
manufactured state, and exhibit evidences of a very
complete system of arrangement. In one department
are the ‘ pigs of lead,’ just as they were received from
the smelters; in another are ‘blocks of tin, ready to
be melted and worked; in other departments are all
the various pieces and parts for pumps, engines, ma-
chines, &c., either cast in the foundry on the premises,
or brought from foundries in the iron districts. Every
room or vault is surrounded by shelves or drawers,
every shelf is marked, and every piece of metal, even
to the smallest screw or nut, deposited in its proper
compartment, and registered in a book. The super-
intendent of this department, who conducts his opera-
tions by lamp-light, receives from the founders these
multifarious pieces, and delivers them to the foremen
of the works above-stairs when wanted for manufac-
turing purposes. Many hundred tons of metal, com-
prising iron, copper, brass, gun-metal, tin, and lead,
are here deposited.

In these cellars, too, is situated the opening of a
very deep Artesian well, bored a few years ago for
the use of the factory. It is excavated to about the
depth of one hundred feet, and then bored to the extent
of another hundred ; and is worked by the steam-
engine employed for various other operations above-
stairs. Those who are acquainted with the principles
roverning the action of pumps and wells, are well
aware that, probably on account of underground com-
munications through porous strata, the well of one
factory is often seriously influenced by the sinking of
another sevcral hundred yards distant from it. Such
is frequently the case at some of the great breweries;
and such is the case at this factory on Saturdays,
supposed to be owing to the extensive working, .on
that day, of the steam-presses for some of the Sunday
newspapers in and near Flect Street.

The factory, being situated on the western bank of
the once-famed ‘ River Flect,’ is twenty feet lower at
the eastern than at the western extremity; and such
is the loose and porous nature of the soil, once the
bank of the stream, that very deep and extensive
foundations have had to be made for the furnaces,
casting-table, and other heavy machinery on the
principal floor. In excavating the ground for forming
these foundations, a fact was ascertained, which, as far
as we are aware, has never been indicated by any other
circumstance—viz., the probable former existence of
‘tanneries’ at or near this spot: large tan-pits filled
with horns were found, having probably been formed
on the bank near ‘Old Bourne Bridge,’ where the
‘Old Bourne’ (Holborn) flowed into the Fleet. That
the water of the latter stream was at one time plentiful
and pure enough for the purposes of tanning cannot
be doubted. Whether or not the name of ‘Shoe Lane’
owed its Grigin to the former location of the leather-
inanufacture in or near it is a question for the anti-
quarian topographer to decide.

We now ascend to the main floor of the tactory,
extending to a depth of a hundred and fifty or two

MAGAZINE. (June, 1842.
hundred feet from west to east. The northern portion
of this range is principally occupied by the mec>anism
connected with the lead-manufacture ; while the
southern relates more particularly to the manufacture
of copper. On one side we see a large furnace,
wherein five or six tons of lead are heing melted at
once: near it is the square trough into which the
melted metal is poured to form large and thick masses
of lead. Adjacent to this is a powerful crane for haul-
ing up the lead and passing it on toa system of rollers.
Then ensues the apparatus (to be described in a future
page) for working the lead into thin sheets. At
another part of the range, but included in what is
termed the ‘lead-foundry, are two smaller furnaces,
for melting the lead and tin for forming pipes and
tubes; and in another are the arrangements whereby
the pipes, thus cast, are elongated and made ready
for use.

From this department we cross over to that devoted
to the copper-manufacture ; and here such is the din
and clatter, that a stranger finds it no easy matter to
collect his ideas and sec what is going forward. Men
wielding large hammers are on every side fashioning
vessels and articles of copper: here a sugar-pan, there —
a sugar-filtering cylinder, in one place a boiler, in
another a copper, in a third astill, in a fourth a worm.
The metal being very sonorous, and being held on an
iron anvil while struck by an iron hammer, yields
sounds much more strong than musical. On one side
are forges for heating the metal necessary for solder-
ing, or, asit is more generally termed, ‘ brazing,’ such
articles of copper as cannat be jointed by rivets; and
here and there are small, open, temporary forges,
employed for annealing the copper during the progress
of the nanufacture. Some of the huge vessels seen in
this part of the building exemplify ina striking degree
the modern improvements in the mode of conducting
the sugar-refinery, for which the vessels are intended:
this is especially exemplified by the large clarifying
cylinders now cccasionally used in a certain stage of
the sugar-manufacture, some of which are sixteen fect
in height. Our frontispiece represents a part of the
busy assemblage presented in this ‘copper-shop ;’ most
of the vesscls seen being connected in sone way or
other with the sugar-refinery, but others pertaining to
distilling or brewing. The lofty cylinders here scen,
as well as other parts of the copper apparatus, are for .
an extensive sugar-refinery, now constructing by the
firm at St. Petersburg. This may illustrate one of the
peculiar manufacturing features of the present day ;
where English firms not only fit up our home manu-
factorics, but also undertake the construction anid
arrangement of factories in almost every country on
the globe. In the present case, for example, the firm
whose factory we are here describing have undertaken
the entire manutacturing arrangements for fitting up
a new sugar-refincry in Russia. The plan has been
furnished for the guidance of the Russian builders,
while the machinery is being made here. There will
be ten of these enormous copper cylinders, six ‘blow-
up’ cisterns, also of copper, six copper filtering-
vessels of a peculiar construction, vacuum-pans,
coolers, cisterns, moulds, and all the varied apparatus
for a sugar-refincry. The mechanism and _ vessels,
when completed, will freight a 700-ton ship to St.
Petersburg.

In the ground-story are also the ‘foundry’ and the
‘smithery,’ which, like the parts just described, require
a solid foundation for the heavy furnaces, &c. contained
therein. In the ‘foundry’ are all the arrangements
for casting small works in brass, in bell-metal, in gun-
metal, and in other mixed metals, where copper, zinc,
lead, and tin are the cornponent ingredients. The
melting-furnaces, sunk below the level of the ground,

SupPLEMENT. ]

the sand-moulds for casting, and other parts of the
arrangements, bear a considerable resemblance to
those presented in the bell-foundry noticed in our
March ‘Supplement.’ Ifere too is an air-furnace, for
use in cases where a higher heat is required. The
‘smithery’ presents the usual assemblage of forges,
anvils, and other apparatus necessary for the forging
of iron. Nearly all the wrought-iron required in the
mechanism fitted up at the factory is forged in this
‘sinithery.’

Among the mechanical arrangements for facili-
tating the removal of heavy goods from one part of
the factory to another, we noticed an ingenious
railway fixed mear the ceiling or roof, whereby
boilers, coppers, stills, engines, &c., suspended from
a wheeled carriage or frame, could be casily moved
along above the heads of the workmen without dis-
turbing the manufacturing arrangements beneath.
This contrivance arose out of the necessity for econo-
mizing space, but we are inclined to think that it
might be advantageously employed under many other
circumstances in large factories.

Let us now pass upwards from the ground-floor, and
glance through the upper ranges of shops. The front

ortion of the first floor is occupied chiefly as a ware-
10use for finished goods in copper, gun-metal, lead,
&c. Here, too, are the various offices and counting-
houses, and also a room eLpropees to the draughts-
men. In the fitting-up of large factories, such as
sugar-refineries and distillerics, there are, as may be
supposed, many drawings of plans, sections, elevations,
diagrams, &c., necessary not only for making a con-
tract and showing the proposed action of the whole
machinery, but as working drawings for the guidance
of the workmen. Thc preparation of such drawings
is effected in the office here alluded to, where labelled
drawers are devoted to the reception of different
classes of drawings.

Behind the ware-rooms and offices extends the
‘brazier’s shop,’ presenting a busy scene of industry.
It is a long apartment, having windows all along
both sides, and benches immediately beneath them.
The ‘ pattern-room’ is another of those which exhibit
the advantages of systematic arrangement in a large
factory. This room is fitted up with cases, shelves,
and boxes, filled with patterns in wood, clay, or metal,
of the various pieces required to be cast in the foundry
below. Every pattern, large and small, is numbered or
ticketed, so as to be readily found when wanted. To
let everything ‘have its place, and be in its place,”
1s the simple but valuable principle on which alone
the operations of such establishments as these can be
kept free from confusion.

Above the floor just visited is a warehouse for un-
finished or partially manufactured goods; and a long
shop for the ‘back and vat makers.’ If we were to
speak of ‘cisterns and tubs’ we should convey a much
more definite idea to the minds of gencral readers,
than by using the technical names ‘backs and vats;
but the truth is, that each large branch of manufacture
has almost a language of its own, the workmen seein-
ing to delight in having a phraseology unintelligible
to others. Thus, the brewer's ‘liquor-back’ is to all
intents and purposes a ‘water-cistern;’ yet not only
are the two words ‘water’ and ‘cistern’ not used ina
brewery, but in some breweries a fine is imposed, and
insisted on by the men, on those who may happen to
use the plain English words. We make this remark
here as the best mode of explaining that a ‘back’ is
the technical name for large wooden cisterns or vesscls
employed in distilling and similar operations; and
that a ‘vat’ isa tall wooden tub or open cask. The
manufacture, which to a small extent is cawied on in
this range of shops, is a superior kind of cooperage.

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

251

The remaining workshops of the factory are occu-
pied by mill-wrights, machine-makers, pump-makers,
and others employed in fitting up and putting together
the various pieces of metal which, after being cast and
forged elsewhere, are employed for the construction
of machines and other apparatus. To enumerate all
these various machines would be here both imprac-
ticable and unnecessary: they are of all degrecs of
complexity, from a water-cock to a steam-engine, and
of various kinds of metal. But we may observe that
one of these workshops extends a hundred and fifty feet
in length ; and along the entire extent of the room,
just below the ceiling, and midway between the sides,
is a roller or hollow cylinder, kept in rotation by a
connecting band from the steam-engine beneath: this,
as a source of power, sets in motion a large number
of lathes, drilling-machines, screw-cutting machines,
&c. placed beneath. In this room all articles of brass,
gun-metal, &c., which have been cast in the foundry
beneath, are turned, polished, and finished.

The buildings which we have now glanced through
are bounded through their whole extent on the south
by Farringdon Market, and extend eastward to the
rear of the houses in Farringdon Street. So com-
pletely is the factory hemmed in by buildings, that
nothing can be secn of it externally except from Shoe
Lane. That the whole of the stories or floors com-
prising the building are black and dirty may well be
supposed; but it would not be equally correct to
suppose that this dirt is valucless. Every morning
several persons are employed to sweep all the flvors,
and to collect the dirt, filings, dross, scraps of nictal,
&c., into a heap; and this heap is at stated intervals
subjected to processes whereby every particle of metal
is saved. The dross which arises during the melting
of ‘pigs’ of lead, known as ‘lcad-ashes,’ the clip-
pings, the crust which collects round the melting: pots,
and waste picces of various kinds, whether copper,
brass, lead, or tin, are thrown on the floor during the
daily operations; and to prevent the loss of the metal
contained in thisassemblage is an object of some solici-
tude. In the first place, all the larger pieces of metal
are separated ; the smaller are passed beneath a rolling-
mill; and are then placed in a revolving washing-
machine, to be scparated as much as possible from
the dirt. The pieces of metal which are too fine to
be picked out from the heap of dirt by hand, are
washed well in water, being held in sieves moved in
such a manner as to allow all the dirt to be washed
away from thesmall particles of metal: this is effected
by men called in the factory ‘ dirt-washers,’ who have
acquired great dexterity in the management of the
sieve. Lastly, the regained metal is exposed to the
fierce heat of an air-furnace, whereby it is melted into
a uniforin state; and in this state it is useful for
mixing with new copper, to form a compound metal
for various purposes. Many tons of valuable metal
are thus annually recovered from the otherwise useless
dirt of the factory. On several occasions the quantity
has amounted to thirty tons per annum, which at
seven pence per pound (its estimated value) gives a
sum of no mean amount, as the value of the metal
regained. ;

We will now endcavour to follow the routine of
some of the processes glanced at in the preceding
paragraphs; explaining, as we peer the nature of
some of the very effective machines brought into re-

uisition. Perhaps it may be well to speak first of
the Lead manufacture, as it will aid in the subsequent
details relating to copper.

All brass-founders, bell-founders, iron-founders,
lead-manufacturers, and similar workers in metal,
are desirous of obtaining old metal to mix with new.
So it is likewise with the ce a Sais who

252 THE PENNY MAGAZINE. (June, 1842.

mix ‘cullet,’ or broken glass, with the flint and alkali | sents this operation, in which it will be seen that a shoot

for forming new glass; and also broken crucibles in | or trough conveys the metal from the furnace to the

the manufacture of new ones. The old ingredient

gives to the new certain valuable qualities not pos- I.

sessed by the latter when used singly; perhaps be-

cause the old material has acquired a better amalga-

mation, a more complete union of its parts, whether it i — (ar

be a metal, or glass, or baked earthenware. Be this } =—— |
4

- a

as it may, old lead-pipe, old sheet-lead, old copper-
sheathing from ships, old copper-boilers, old bells—all
are bought by the respective founders, to be employed re >=
in the construction of new articles. e.

As the amount of old material is, of course, far be-
neath the quantity required, we have to speak of the
form in which the new metal is brought to the factory.
In the case of lead, the new metal is brought to Lon-
don in the form of ‘ pigs,’ each of which is an oblong
mass, about three feet long, six inches wide, and
weighing about one hundredweight and a half. To
such of our readers as may be willing to trace the
progress of the lead-manufacture from its commence-
ment, we may mention that in Nos. 186, 188, and 303
of the ‘Penny Magazine,’ are details sufficient to
convey an idea of the earlier processes, the mining
operations of the present day, the operations of lead-
mining in Britain in the time of the Romans, and the
smelting of the ore into the form of ‘ pigs.’ From this
Jatter point we now take up the subject. As for the

hilosophy of the word ‘ pig,’ applied to the masses of
lead, we may remark that it forms another curious
instance of the phraseology alluded to in a former
paragraph. It appears that in the iron-manufacture,
when the metal flows from the furnace in which it
has been reduced from the ore, it passes into a large
trough excavated in sand, and from thence into
smaller lateral channels on each side. This arrange-
ment has been suggestive of a sort of simile: for the
larger trough is called by the workmen the ‘sow,’ and
the smaller the ‘ pigs,’ who suck the metal from the
sow; hence proceeded the names of ‘sow-metal’ and
‘ pig-metal,’ and hence, in all probability, the name of
‘pig,’ as applied to the saleable masses both of iron
and of lead.

The two principal articles into which lead is manu-
factured are sheet-lead and tater-pipes ; or at least they
are the only two which need here be noticed; since
the comparatively low temperature at which the metal
zuses, and the ease with which it is beaten into various
forms, enable the plumber to modify it in various
ways. The sheet-lead here spoken of is that with
which roofs and terraces are covered and cisterns
lined. It is sometimes made, and used formerly to
be wholly made, by pouring the melted metal on
a flat surface of sand, in a stratum of any required
thickness. But the method pursued at Mesers. Pon-
tifex’s is the more modern one of rolling, or ‘ milling,’
which we proceed to describe.

A furnace is provided, consisting of a hemispherical .
melting-pot, four or five feet in diameter, and nearly
as much in depth, heated by a fire beneath, and
covered with an enclosed cap or chimney reaching
above the roof of the building, for the purpose of con-
veying away the deleterious gases engendered during
the melting of lead. Into this melting-pot is put about [Lead-Mill and Frame.)
81x tons (thirteen thousand pounds) of lead, new and | is
old, which remains there till thoroughly melted. | very peculiar in its action. It consists of a long frame
During this time all the impurities, being lighter than | or bench, about a yard in height, seven or eight feet
the metal, rise to the surface. Immediately adjoining | wide, and probably seventy fest in length. Atintervals
the furnace is a cast-iron frame called the ‘mould,’ | of every foot or two are transverse rollers. all placed
being a flat vessel about six or seven feet square | on the same level, so that a heavy body may be rolled
and six inches deep. The bottom of this mould | from one end of the frame to the other with great
is also of iron, and the melted metal is allowed | facility. About midway along the frame is the ‘ mill-
to flow into it from an opened valve near the bot- | ing’ or rolling machine, consisting mainly of two gate
tom of the melting-pot. The following cut repre- | derous rollers, between which the lead is passed : these

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*

{Lead Foundry.)

mould. The glistening liquid mass soon flows out, to
the weight of about ten or eleven thousand pounds,
the dross and impurities being for the most part left
behind in the melting-pot. As, however, some impu-
rities Or oxidised portions enter the mould, a subsequent
removal becomes necessary; and this is effected by
drawing the edge of a board carefully over the surface
of the hot and liquid metal, the board urging before it
all the floating impurities, and leaving a surface very
silvery and clear.

After some hours the mass of lead, technically called
a ‘plate,’ is lifted out of the mould bya powerful
crane, and placed upon the machine where it is to
be rolled into the form of sheets. This machine is

fa |

gee 1

Se ee eee — ee mee

SUPPLEMENT. ]

are made of iran, the upper one being 15 or 16 inches
in diameter, wita a weight of three tons, the under one
being the same. By means of very ingenious mecha-
nism, the two rollers are placed at any required distance
apart, the one above the other, and are also made to
revolve in either direction. These being the mechanical
arrangements, the process of ‘milling’ proceeds thus :—
The ‘plate’ of lead is brought between the rollers,
which are opened 80 as only to receive the lead by com-
pressing it; and the rollers being made to rotate, the
plate is drawn in between them. This process is repeated
over and over again; the plate passing first from yt
to left, and then from left to right, the opening

tween the rollers being gradually reduced by means
of an index and graduated dial-plate. The small
wooden rollers facilitate the motion of the elongated
lead to and fro; and when the length, obtained by
reducing the thickness, has become inconveniently
great, the piece is cut into two, and each half milled
in a similar manner. Thus, the lead continues to
pass between the rollers, to the number of seven or
eight hundred times, having its thickness diminished
and ite length increased by regular degrees. Fiom

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

{Mould for casting Lead-pipe,]

varies externally from two to six inches, and inter-
nally from half an inch to four inches. The mould
consists of two semi-cylindrical halves, which on being
brought together form the external contour of the pipe ;

three to four hundred feet in length, with a width of | while a spindle or steel core, running down the centre

seven or eight, is the average quantity of roofing-lead

roduced by these means from one of the ‘plates.’
The lead is then coiled up ina roll, and in that form
is sold to the plumber, who adapts it to his various
purposes.

The manufacture of lead-pipe, like that of sheet-lead,
combines the processes both of casting and elongating
or ‘drawing.’ Whatever be the required diameter
and thickness of the pipe, it is first cast ina short
piece of great thickness, and then elongated, by which
the thickness becomes reduced. The diameter of the
cast piece is, internally, the same as that of the
required pipe, the external diameter being that which
undergoes reduction. The first process is therefore
to cast the short pieces of pipe, which is effected in
moulds similar to that represented in the subjoined
cut. These moulds measure from two to four feet in
height, and are fitted for casting pipe whose diameter

of the hollow cavity, regulates the internal diameter
of the pipe.

A small melting-furnace is apr et for the
pipe-casting, the Jead being carefully skimmed from
dross while melting ; and when the fusion is complete,
the melted metal is poured into the mould, the upper
end of which is open and the lower end closed. The
quantity of lead required for each mould varies from
about twenty-four to two hundred pounds, according
to the thickness of the pipe. The metal being solidi-
fied and sufficiently cool tor handling, the two halves
of the mould are drawn asunder and the lead re-
moved ; the technical name of the ‘plug’ being ap-
plied to the short thick piece of pipe thus produced.

Next ensues the very singular method whereby the
pe is elongated to the required dimensions. The
‘drawing-bench,’ represented in part in the subjoined
cut, is a frame about thirty feet long and three in

(Drawing- Bench for Pipes.)

height, having in the middle of its length mechanism
for producing the elongation. An endless chain is
kept in constant motion round two wheels or rollers,
one near the end and the other near the middle of the
draw-bench; insomuch that a hook or a clasp con-
nected with one of the links wonld be forcibly drawn
along the bench. A mandril, or steel rod, correspond-
ing in size with the internal diameter of the pipe, is
inserted into one of the short pipes or ‘ plugs,’ and
then so connected with the endless chain as to be
drawn along the bench; but, in its progress, the pi

has to pass through a hole in a steel-plate, or die.

rather smaller than the diameter of the lead itself, by

which its external diameier becomes somewhat re-
duced and its length increased. Again and again is
the pipe, with its contained mandril, drawn along the

frame; the die being exchanged after each drawing
and replaced by one of smaller diameter. In pro-
ducing a two-inch pipe no fewer than sixteen dies are
employed, the diameters of which descend in a regular
series. The hole through the die is conical, that is,
larger on one side of the die than on the other; and
the lead enters the hole at the widest part, where-
by a process of compression is undergone; but at a
certain point in the operations a ‘cutting-die’ is in-
troduced, that is, one wherein the lead is at once
or to a cutting-edge, the result of which is, that
a thin film is cut or scraped from the whole surface of
the pipe. By the time that all this routine is under-
gone the metal has become more dense and compact,
the temperature so high as ecarcely to be bearable by
the hand, the length greatly increased, and the ex-

THE PENNY

ternal diameter preportionably diminished. After
this the elongated pipe is removed from the mandril,
and is then ready for disposal to the plumber.

Let us now turn our attention to those branches of
manufacture in which c is the principal metal
employed. So far as regards the factory under our
notice, copper 18 a more Important metal than lead;
and we have given precedence to the latter simply
asa matter of convenience, because many of the early
processes in the copper manufacture may be more
ee understood by comparing them with those in
ead.

When we find that all copper vessels, and indeed
almost all the more important articles made of copper
alone, are formed from sheet-copper, it may naturally
be asked, how these sheets are produced, and whether or
not they are made at the London factories. To answer
these questions we must point out the difference be-
tween the operations of the copper-miner, the copper-
emelter, the copper-mill owner, and the copper-smith.
The copper-miners, principally at the very western
extremity of Cornwall, extract the ore from the metal-
liferous veins underground, bring it to the surface,
and subject it to a slight preparatory process. The
copper-smelters then purchase the ore in this state,
and take it to the smelting-works, most of which are
near Swansea in Wales, and there, by exposure to
powerful furnaccs, separate the copper from the other
mnetallic and earthy substances with which it was com-
bined. The form into which the copper is brought by
the smelters is that of square pieces called ‘tiles,’
measuring nine or ten inches square and an inch in
thickness; and ‘cakes,’ of a somewhat larger size.
These ‘tiles’ and ‘cakes’ of copper then pass to the
copper-mill, of which there are many in various parts
of England, those nearest to the Metropolis being
robably those on the river Wandle near Mitcham,
Merton, and Wandsworth. Here the copper is re-
melted, and cast into various convenient furms, after-
wards to be passed between rollers, if sheet-copper he
required. Whatever may be the particular manufac-
turing arrangements involved, the mode of casting and
of rolling or milling may be sufficiently conceived from
the details before given respecting lead. Not only is
the copper converted into shects at the copper-mill,
but many of the large pieces, employed for sugar-pans
and other large vessels, receive their first rude form
there also, certain facilities being possessed for that
- purpose. Lastly come the labours of the copper-
smith, who works up the rudely-shaped picces into all
the various forms required by the sugar-refiner, the
distiller, the brewer, and other manufacturers.

Having premised thus much, we may refer those
readers who wish to trace the copper from its earlier
forms, to Nos. 173, 175, 177, and 179 of the ‘Penn
Magazine,’ where the ores of copper are described,
the principal mines of Europe enumerated, the Cornish
mining system explained, and the smelting-works of
South Wales described.

The vessel called a ‘sugar-pan’ may be taken as 4
convenient means of illustrating the operations of the
copper-manufacture. One of these is represented in
page 165 of our last year’s volume, in the description
of a sugar-refinery. It consists of a domed vessel,
curved and enclosed both at top and bottom, having
several apertures for valves, gauges, &c. &c., and a
coil of copper-pipe within. The top and bottom, the
one convex upwards and the other convex downwards,
are each formed of one piece, which receives its cur-
vature by a very remarkable process. The copper is
in the first place cast into a form resembling that of a
double-convex lens or spectacle-glass, thickest in the
middle, and diminishing gradually towards the edges.
This lens is then subjected to the powerful blows of a

254

MAGAZINE.

tilt-hammer, directed more continuously near the centre
than near the edges. A little consideration will show
that this hammering, while it reduces the thickness of the
copper, must make it curl up at the edges, or assume
a dished or hollow form: we find that this is the case
even when a flat piece of metal is hammered at its
centre ; and still more does this result ensue when an
increased substance is given to the centre. The thick-
ness of the centre isso adjusted as to afford metal
enough for the curvature of the vessel; and the ham-
mnering is continued till the thickness of the whole is
brought nearly uniform. This is a very important
process, since the fitness of the vessel for the operations
of the sugar-refinery depends on the soundness and
perfection of the metal. We saw a piece of copper
which had been dished or hollowed in this way, and
which, though worth forty guineas if sound, was ren-
dered useless by a flaw in the metal.

The curved piece of copper just spoken of receives
its form from the tilt-hammers at the copper-mill, and
then passes into the hands of the copper-smith for the
subsequent operations, The top and the bottom of
the ‘sugar-pan’ receive their form nearly in a similar
way; but many smaller pieces have to be added in
order to complete the vessel. The side is a portion of
a cylinder, made of sheet-copper, and riveted at the
edge. One of the most noisy operations in a copper-
smith’s shop is the hammering which the copper
receives in order to render it dense and firm. The
piece of copper is supported on an anvil or iron bed,
and beaten with hammers in every part, whereby the
particles of the metal are brought into more dense
and compact union, and an additional degree of
toughness is imparted. The ringing and clanging
which this produces in a piece of sheet-copper perhaps
seven or eight feet in diameter, is to a stranger almost
deafening. The name applied to the process is ‘ pla-
nishing ;’ and where the surface of the copper is very
large, the operation has something of the picturesque
effect presented by the anchor-sinithery ; for six or eight
men, standing ina circle round the piece of copper,
and each wielding a heavy hammer, strike the metal
in succession, every part of the surface receiving
probably as many as ten or twelve blows. Any one
who examines a large copper vessel will sce evidences
of this ‘ planishing’ process, not only by the hammer-
marks, but by the density and ‘close-grain’ of the
surface.

An important part of the opcrations is that con-
nected with the riveting or fastening of the joints,
This is effected by making one edge overlap the other,
and by passing a rivet through them, the point or
small end of the rivet being afterwards hammered
down. Hence arise three steps in the process—viz.,
the punching of the holes for the reception of the rivets,
the making of the rivets themselves, and the process
of riveting. The punching- engine consists princi-
pally of a long lever, to the shorter arm of which is
attached a punch corresponding to the size of the hole
to be made, and generally of a helen shape. The
pice of copper is brought to the engine, and placed

etween the punch and the support bencath, so ad-
justed as to cause the punch to act on the exact spot
where the hole isto be made. A pressure of the lever
now causes the punch to descend on the copper, and
to cut out a small circular piece corresponding with
the required size of the hole. The piece of copper
is then shifted onward through a small space, and an-
other hole similarly made; and 80 on to the required
extent. ae

In the process of riveting, each rivet, which is made
at the forge, is passed into the hole bored for its recep-
tion, and the point or smal] end of the rivet is hammered
down close to the sheet-copper, 20 as to clasp it very

(Jung, 1842

SuPPLEMCNT.]}

tichtly, having in fact a head o1 stay within and with-
out. The edge of the copper is then ‘caulked,’ that
is, hammered so as to bring the two surfaces of the
joint into very close contact, forming a bond so intimate
as to resist the passage of water, air, or steam.

Several of the openings into a sugar-pan, or in-
deed into other copper vessels used in manufactures,
are not simply holes cut in the sheet-metal, but have
collars or edges made of cast-metal, whereby the fas-
tening can be effectually secured. These various
pieces—the technical names for which need hardly be
given here—are cast in sand in the usual manner, and
are afterwards turned and finished by other means.

The coil of steam-pipe which occupies the lower
part of the interior of a sugar-pan, as a means of heat-
ing the sugar to be contained therein, involves opera-
tions of a different kind from those hitherto described.
This coil usually consists of pipe about three inches in
diameter, but much thinner than the same diameter of
lead-pipe would be. In order to form it a strip of
copper is taken, as long as may be conveniently ob-
tained, and rather wider than the circumference of the
intended pipe. The two edges of this strip are bent
upwards, to give the first semblance of a curve; and
the piece is then passed through the holes or ‘dies’ of
the tube-drawing machine, by which it is made per-
fectly cylindrical, with one edge slightly lapping over
the other. The joint thus made is secured by a pro-
cess of soldering or brazing, aided by heat in the usual
manner. Soldering or brazing, it may perhaps hardl
be necessary to state, depends for its action on the dif-
ferent temperatures at which different metals melt.
Thus, to join two pieces of lead, a mixed metal, or
‘solder,’ is employed which melts and acts as a cement
at a temperature that will not injure the lead. So, in
like manner, two pieces of copper are joined or
‘brazed’ by using a mixed metal partaking of the
nature of brass, which remains fluid at a temperature
not high enough to injure the copper. <A small forge
or brazing-furnace is employed to heat the metals,
ve borax is employed to facilitate the fusion of the

rass,

Thus far the operations for making a eOpDeT Tie
are apparently sunple; but the mode of bringing the
etraight pipe into the form of acoil is very curious.
Any attempt to bend a pipe in this manner, so long as
the metal is thin and the pipe empty, would be accom-
panicd by a distortion of the sectional area of the pipe,
originally circular, and perhaps by fracture. To ob-
Viate (his, therefore, the interior cavity of the pipe is
entirely filled up, either with lead, or with some com-

osition which will melt and flow at a temperature not
ikely to injure copper. This being cffected, the pipe
becomes solid, and may then be bent without disturb-
ing its shape, by the application of sufficient power.
By a simple machine, downward pressure is exerted
on the pipe at one part, while upward pressure is
exerted on the adjoining parts, whereby the pipe is
gradually coiled round into a form nearly resembling
that of a common tea-sauccr, fitted to lie in the bottom
of the sugar-pan. By the application of heat on a
temporary stove beneath, the interior composition is
melted out, and the vacancy restored. The strength
of the tube is tested by exposure to steain of high
pressure for several days; various minor adjustments
are effected ; and the coil is inserted in the sugar- pan.

Nearly all the vessels manufactured by the copper-
smith are produced by various modifications of the
processes here noticed. Cutting, hammering, rivet-
ing, planishing, brazing—these are the principal
operations performed. If we were to select any other

THE PENNY

MAGAZINE. a5
else than a repetition of the above details. There are,
however, some exceptions to this statement, which we
may here notice.

In the process of hammering the plates or large
surfaces of copper, the hammered surface becomes
hardened ; and to remedy this, the copper is exposed to
a strong heat for a certain time, and then plunged into
water, by which an oxide is removed and the copper
softened. For large sheets, this process of annealing
is effected on a flat stove about three feet from the
ground; the stove being covered with burning fucl,
and the copper laid thereon. A cistern of water is
kept beneath the floor of the shop, near the stove, into
which the heated copper is suddenly plunged, as a
means of removing the external oxide. For smaller
pieces temporary stoves or fires are adjusted in any
convenient part of the shop, a draught being ingeni-
ously supplied by acurrent of air forced through a
flexible tube by the action of the steam-engine. This
process of annealing is not effected in connection with
the ‘planishing,’ but with that hammering whereby
the shape of a curved piece of copper is produced.
Let us suppose, for instance, that a hemispherical
copper cup, a foot in diameter, is to be produced.
A circular piece of copper, considerably more than a
foot in diameter, is selected, laid on a sort of small
convex anvil; and hammered in such a manner as
to make the upper surface gradually convex. This is
effected by a peculiar action of the hammer, whereby
the metal 1s as it were driven from the centre towards
the circumference, and gradually curled or turned up.
But it happens that after a certain amount of hammer-
ing, the copper becomes so hard as to be in danger of
fracture; and it is to remove this hardness that the
‘annealing’ is effected. In one of the shops of the
factory is an ingenious machine for producing tlic
curvature of a piece of copper; in which the cop-
per is worked to and fro between two small whccl!s
or rollers, placed in more or less close approximation
according to the pressure required.

The manufacture of copper-plates for engravers,
one of the departments carried on at the factory of
Messrs. Pontifex, will illustrate the means adopted for
producing a level and brilliant polished surface of
copper. The copper is in the first instance cut to the
required size frum a plate of the best and soundest
quality; and is then scraped all over with a stcel
instrument to remove any slight defects that may exist
at the surface... The workman occasionally holds a
piece of oiled paper between the window and the plate,
whereby a peculiar light falls on the latter, calculated
to render the minutest flaws or defects visible. When
scraped sufficiently, the plate is taken to an anvil and
well hammered, to render it more dense, and also tu
flatten it. The surface 1s then well ground with
a kind of hard blue stone wetted with water; and
finally polished with fine charcoal, by which all the
marks from the scraping, hammering, and grinding
are removed. When itis considered that the finest
lines produced by the graver must be made perfectly
distinct and clearly marked, it may well be supposed
that the surface is required to be free froin scratches
and imperfections of every kind. oe

Of the sugar-moulds, the clarifying-vessels, the stills
and other vessels employed by distillers, the coppers
for brewers, the copper baths, the copper boilers, and
other vessels made of this metal, we shall refrain from
saying more here. All are made of shect-copper, all
are hammered and &nnealed, and all are either riveted
more or less extensively, or brazed. Let us then say a
few words in reference to other operations of the

article, and trace it through the successive processes, | factory.

we should find it, so far as mere description goes, little

There are, in various branches of manufacture,

256

many small pieces of mechanism made of brass or of
some of the numerous compound metals in which
copper is an ingredient, and which are usually cast in
a melted state before final adjustment. For the pro-
duction of such articles one department of this factory
i8 appropriated. Pumps, water-cocks, valves, weights,
measures, tubes or short
other articles are cast in loam or sand ina manner
analogous to that of bell-founding. The model or
ttern is made of different substances, according to the
orm of the instrument; and in those instances where
an interior cavity is to be formed, there is an inner
mould or model adapted to it. The metal, whether
brass, wr pot-metal, or bell-metal, or gun-metal, is
melted ia pots made of Stourbridge clay, by means
of peu urnaces laced beneath the level of the ground,
and then poured into the cavities of the sand-mould.
All such articles, when cast,
have to undergo many pro-
cesses before they are fitted for

the upper shops of the factory
are devoted. The internal ca-

"ness; this is effected at a lathe
by means of steel instruments,
An internal or an external
screw or worm has somctimes
to be formed ; and this is like-

which there are as many as
sixty in one shop, some ofa
very elaborate and beautiful
kind. Sometimes holes are to
be -drilled, more carefully and
regularly than can be effected
- by the copper-drilling machine

(Drilling-Machine.} = in the lower shop; and in
such case the elaborate machine here represented
is employed. Then again parts which work into or
upon each other require various adjustments to
make them work smoothly and regularly; and the
outer surfaces of all are to be polished and beautified.
All these operations, and many others which we cannot
enuinerate, constitute a bustling scene of industry in
the upper shops of the factory; the lathe, the file, and
various polishing-tools being the chief implements
employed. Of the lathes here alluded to, one is the
beautiful machine for cutting screws, represented in
the subjoined cut: its mechanism is at the same time

(Screw-cuttiag Lathe.]

so extensive and so delicate, that it will cut a screw
whose threads are eight inches apart, or one which has
a hundred threads to the inch, or one having any in-
termediate number between these wide extremes.
The principle of the machine rests on the combination
of two movements—a rotatory motion of the bar to be
cut into a screw, and a longitudinal motion of the

cutting tool; and the distance between the thread of

the screw depends on the ratio between the velocities
of these two movements.

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

ipes—these and scores of

use; and tothis object some of

vity of various pieces of me-
chanism has often to be brought
to great regularity and smooth-

wise effected at the lathe, of

(Jung, 1842.

We stated, in the commencement of this article, that
our description of processes must be confined to two or
three branches, being those forming the chief features
of thisestablishment. To show how impossible it would
be to go beyond these limits, we will here simply
enumerate the distinct branches of manufacture carried
on, comprising works in five or six different kinds of
metal. ‘Copper-smiths,’ for making coppers, boilers,
baths, stills, sugar-pans, sugar-clarifying and filtering
vessels, coolers, fire-boxes for locomotive engines, &c. ;
‘copper and steel engraving-plate makers,’ whose
avocations are implied in the name; ‘ brass-plate
makers,’ in relation to the brass-plates for inscriptions ;
‘fire-engine makers ;’ ‘ beer-engine makers;’ ‘pump-
makers ;’ and, in short, makers of numerous engines
and machines, whercin various kinds of metal are
employed ; ‘millwrights, for making the shafts,
wheels, cranks, &c. whereby a moving-power is
applied to manufactures (nearly all the machinery
contained and worked within the factory is manufac-
tured there also); ‘brass, copper, and gun-metal
founders,’ for innumerable articles made of those
metals; ‘brass-turners;’ ‘gas-meter makers;’ ‘]ead-
pipe and sheet-lead manufacturers ;’ ‘ pewtcrers,’ for
inaking certain parts of the apparatus used in some
distilling and chemical processes; ‘ back and vat
makers,’ for making the mash-tuns, hop-backs, under-
backs, coolers, stillions, store-vats, and other vessels of
wood used in breweries and distilleries; and other
branches of a minor character. We do not remember
to have seen any other factory wherein so many
departments of manufacture are carried on at once,
although many of these are necessarily here conducted
on a small scale.

We have in general made a point of avoiding all
allusions to the private economy of manufactories,
farther than repards the processes carried on therein;
but there is one point on which we will here offer a
few remarks. It must be obvious that where some
hundreds of men are employed, some working by the
day and others by ‘ picce-work,’ and where scores of
different materials are used, the commercial at:counts
of a factory must require extreine care, and a well-
organized system, to prevent the most inextricable
confusion. A merchant who imports foreign produce
to sell again at a profit, has comparatively an easy task
in booking his transactions; but the manufacturer
who makes an engine, consisting of many scores or
even hundreds of parts, some of one metal and some
of another, and made by men of whom some are paid
by the day and others by the piece, has a task of no
mean difficulty in estimating the actual cost of a ma-
chine. We have had an opportunity of observing the
system pursued in the factory to which these pages
relate, and have been much struck with the elaborate,
but yet simple, principle of checking all the accounts.
Every piece of copper, of brass, &c. is weighed when
given by the store-keeper to the foreman of the works;
every order has a symbol attached to it, not only on
the books, but also stamped on the principal pieces of
metal employed; the mode in which every hour of
every man’s time has been employed is strictly ascer-
tained, in connexion with the symbols attached to the
respective orders; the ‘time’ of each workman is so
ascertained and recorded that an error can hardly
occur; and the wages and materials are so classed as
to afford ready means of reference at any subsequent
time. The details of the system we of course cannot
enter into; but we may remark, that a period of six
or eight years is stated to have elapsed in bring-
ing the system, by gradual stages, to the degree of
completeness necessary for the complicated operations
of the factory.

JuLy 2, 1842.]

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THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

‘([Banditti dividing Booty.—From Pinelli.)

BRIGANDS.

From 1806 till 1815, or during the whole period of
the French occupation of the south of Italy, brigandism
raged in some parts of the States of the Church and of
the Neapolitan kingdom—pure brigandism, or a
brigandism mixed with patriotism, or a mortal hatred
to the French conquerors. It was promoted and
increased to a frightful extent by Napoleon’s system
of conscription, which seized upon all classes, to make
soldiers of them, and to send them to fight and perish
in Germany, Spain, Russia, and half the countries of
Europe. Many a young man, previously of respect-
able condition and conduct fled to the mountains and
joined the bands of irregular robbers, rather than be
dragged to the army of the great and more regular
robbers; others deserted at the first opportunity, and
being safe from the pursuits of the gens-d’armes only
in the wilds and widernesses, became of necessity
fellow-denizens and co-mates with the brigands. For
a long time Calabria continued to be the country most
thronged with these banditti, and the portion of the
south most fiercely and obstinately hostile to the
French, who lost far more men there by the rifle, and
the knife, and the malaria fevers, than they lost in
several of their greatest campaigns and most brilliant
conquests. From the first to the last they lost in the
two Calabrias not fewer than twenty thousand men!
The cruelties committed on both sides were atrocious.
Mr. Elmhirst, an English naval officer, who, to save

No. 658, |

himself from drowning in a sinking vessel, took refuge
on the Calabrian coast, and was made a prisoner of
war by the French, had a near view of what was pass-
ing in the years 1809 and 1810, and has left upon
record a terrific account of all he witnessed.* In the
town of Monteleone he found an immense prison
always filled by brigands, or by men whom the French
and their partizans chose to designate as such, and a
high gallows constantly at work. Fresh prisoners
were continually brought in; but the daily executions
revented the prison from being too much crowded.
hese men were condemned, with merely a shadow of
a trial, by martial law, and the executions were con-
ducted solely by the military. They were hung up
without having their shoes or hats taken off, or any
covering put over their faces; and as they were turned
off, wet were fired at by their savage executioners,
not ‘to lessen their sufferings, but from mere spite or
wantonness, for none of those Mr. Elmhirst saw were
shot in a vital part, but had musket-shots through their
legs, arms, &c., which would rather protract than
diminish their torture. They were usually executed
early in the morning, and left on the gallows, in pairs
or in half-dozens, until the following morning, when
they were taken down and thrown into an immense
pit dug for the purpose, other victims being strung up
in their places. Our worthy sailor had the curiosity
* ‘Occurrences during a Six Months’ Residence in the Pro-
= of Calabria Ulteriore,’ &c., by Lieutenant P. L. Elm-
irst, R.N )

Vou. XI.—2 L

258

and nerve to examine that horrible pit. Vast as it
was, he found it filled almost to the brim with a pro-
miscuous heap of human bodies, thrown in one upon
the other like dead dogs.. The adjoining ground also
was full of graves, which being of no depth, the bodies
had been occasionally disinterred by dogs and other
animals, so that the surrounding fields were overspread
with human bones and the fragments of dresses.
Previously to this period all the brigands or insurgents
taken in the province were brought to Monteleone,
and shot in a pleasant picturesque valley, near the
springs which supply the town with water; and were
either left to rot and putrefy under the burning Cala-
brian sun on the surface of the soil, or thrown into
holes scarcely a foot beneath the surface. The inhabit-
ants were obliged to abstain from the water which
flowed from those sweet and copious springs, and to
bring their supplies from a rivulet at a considerable
distance. The brutalised conquerors themselves felt
the inconvenience, and chose a new Golgotha. There
was a second prison in the town, into which the French
authorities shamefully threw the few English seamen
that had run on shore to save their lives with Elmhirst,
who now visited them every day to alleviate their
sufferings. In this prison, which he describes as being
the most filthy and horrible of gaole, he found, crowded
and stifling together, a great many of the wives and
children of the peasantry, who had been suspected of
favouring and carrying provisions to the brigands in
the forests and mountains, and a number of respectable
individuals, priests and country gentlemen, who were
suspected of a too warm attachment to their Bourbon
princes, now on the other side of the Straits of Messina,
and whose slow martyrdom was in many instances
worse than death. Notwithstanding thcse continual
exccutions, and still more extensive massacres, occa-
sionally committed in the field by moveable columns,
the French and those who submitted to their sway were
hardly ever safe or free from alarm. No place, how-
ever near a town, was secure from the visits of the
brigands; they concealed themselves among the rocks
and bushes, the woods and olive groves, and from these
retreals sprung unawares on heedless and defenceless
garb ee so that it was usual for a person, even if
e had to go but half a mile from his residence, to go
well armed and to take two or three armed companions
with him. Few or none escaped their violence except
the rural priests and the mendicant friars. If one of
their own countrymen, a Calabrian, or a man from
any other province of the kingdom, fell into thejr
hands without a pigtail at the back of his head, he had
no mercy to expect; for the old-fashioned pigtail was
their political index by which they judged whether
men were Jacobins or Hourbuniats To the heads of
many who had conformed to the principles or the
fashion of the day, and had cut off their queues, they
sewed the tails of sheep, by way of furnishing them
with the loyal appendage, and in that condition dis-
missed them. ‘So that every man,” says our honest
licutenant, ‘‘who regarded his personal safety, took
care to preserve an exuberance of hair; for the more
he had, or the longer his queue, so much the more
was he esteemed loyal, or an enemy to the French.”
The brigands frequently scalped or otherwise maimed
such Calabrians as had no pigtails; and at times they
cut off their fingers, and compelled them to cat them
as the guilty instruments of a profanation of loyalt
Wherever our officer. went he saw bleeding headd
fixed on forked sticks. He declares, of his own know-
ledge. that many innocent and respectable men, inno-
cent both of brigandism and of political partizanship,
were cxecuted while he was in the country. Somce of
the real bandits displayed a strategy which might have
made thein highly esteemed generals if they had been

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

(Jury 2,

serving in the army of Napoleon; and many atime had
the French cause to rue the self-confidence and contempt
with which they engaged these robbers. On onc occa-
sion they were artfully drawn into a frightful hollow
at Longo-Bucco, one of the very wildest parts of the
Calabrian Apennines, where nothing is seen but
mountains rising in confused piles, and terminating in
peaks; huge overhanging rocks, which threatened to
crush and bury the wretched little villages beneath
them ; and torrents which roar from the bottom of
deep and gloomy glens. On another occasion they
were drawn into another deep narrow hollow, at the
bottom of which stands the village of Orsomarzo,
which looks as if it were placed at the bottom of a vast
well; and at both these places they were nearly exter-
minated, the women and children fighting with the
men, or loading their rifics for them, or rolling down
big stones on the heads of the French with piercing
shrieks and screams—“ Screams,” says a French officer
who was engaged in both affairs, “ which sounded in
our ears like the shrieks of the Furies, impatiently
waiting the moment when they werc to feast upon our
blood.”* After a long service in the country, which
he calls the grave and slaughter-house of Frenchmen,
this officer, most eager to be gone, turned his back on
the two Calabrias, and in so doing expressed his con-
viction that notwithstanding all the courage, activity,
and perseverance of Napoleon’s troops, they were not
a match for men born in the country, lightly armed,
supported by a part of the population, and accustomed
from their infancy to fire with a deadly aim. These
considerations induced the government of Murat, who
succeeded Joseph Bonaparte as king of Naples, to
adopt a new system, according to which the troops
were only to beemployed in compelling the inhabitants
to extirpate the brgande ander penalty of being
regarded as their accomplices and abettors. The
execution of this system was intrusted to the French
general Manhes, a man of iron, incapable of mercy,
who took with him an army of ten thousand men,
which was gradually spread over the two provinces,
in towns or fortified cantonments. Manhes improved
upon the system. Any peasant, without distinction of
sex or age, who was found going out to labour in the
country with more in his wallet than a small flask of
wine and a piece of bread, calculated to be just suffi-
cient to support life for one day, was taken and shot;
for, having made pretty sure of the towns and villages,
whence the brigands could no longer supply them-
selves, he thought if he only could prevent the
peasantry from smuggling out provisions to them, that
they must either surrender, or die of want in the
mountain fastnesses to which he had driven them. If
a quiet honest man concealed or corresponded with
or aided the escape of an outlaw—no matter were it
his own father, or son, or brother, or bosom friend of
former and happier days—he was tried over a drum-
head and shot. Ifa Calabrian was found on the road,
or in any other place, with a gun on his shoulder, or a
knife in his girdle, and could not give a satisfactory
account of himself, he was shot there and then. A
captured and condemned brigand escaped from the
cappella, or chapel, into which he had been allowed to
go for confession and spiritual comfort before his
execution ; Manhes shot the poor priest and confessor,
alleging that he must have aided the robber in his
escape. If any town or village allowed the brigands a
passage, it was visited with fire and sword, without
any minute investigation as to its capability of resisting
an armed band desperate as hungry tigers ;—and
Manhes had deprived the people of their arms.
Yet, after all these vigorous measures, the French
found that the snake was scotched, not killed ; and

* ‘Letters on the Calabrias,’ by a French officer.

1842.]

though brigandism was restrained, it was not sup-
ressed in the Calabrias until the spring of 1815, when
King Ferdinand was restored to his dominions. Since
that time there have been highway robberies in Cala-
bria, a3 in better-governed countries; but of brigandism,
roperly so called, there has been little or nothing.
etween the years 1816 and 1824, we several times
traversed great parts of those provinces, and whatever
may have been our personal inconveniences in other
matters, we had norcason to complain of the dishonesty
of the people, or to fear any attack of brigands. The
Abruzzi were still more tranquil and honest. But in
Apulia and Basilicata, in the parts of the Terra di
Lavoro which touch on the States of the Church, and
within the frontiers of those States themselves, bri-
gandism continued to flourish several years longer.

DOMESTIC CONSERVATORIES FOR PLANTS.

Ir is always with pleasure that We notice any addition
to the stock of harmless pleasures in which the bulk of
the people can participate. ‘The influence of those
which are of an opposite character is thus directly
weakened, and something is done towards satisfying
one of the great wants of socicty. Formerly the
green-house or conservatory was regarded as exclu-
sively the appendage of the stately mansion, or the
suburban villas of the opulent, but it has been made
an inexpensive means of gratifying a taste, which,
while it is at once refined an
inquisitive spirit that raises those who are fortunate
enough to be under its influence above low and frivo-
lous pursuits. The love of the beautiful in nature,
from a pansy toa forest oak, is deeply implanted in
the human breast, and constitutes a source which
requires only to be reached and acted upon, in order
to diffuse on every side innumerable advantages to
individuals and to society. We see the love of plants
and flowers existing, apparently under the most dis-
couraging circumstances, and in fe where poverty
chokes almost all the springs of wholesome pleasure.
But even there are some who

“6 Overhead
Suspend their crazy boxes, planted thick,
And watered duly. There the pitcher stands,
A fragment, and the spoutless tea-pot there.”’

It is pitiable to sec these sickly objects of care in the
pent-up town, pining under the influence of the dr
atinosphere; and deep must be the inherent taste which
can persevere in resisting the obsiacles to healthy
vegetation, caused by deleterious matter floating con-
stantly in the air, the excess of aridity or moisture,
exccssive heat and cold, sudden alternations of tempera-
ture, and nipping blasts. Against these destructive
influences the green-house is a protection; but it is
one which is not available in large towns, especially in
London. Mr. N. B. Ward, a medical gentleman prac-
tising in the metropolis, has, however, successfully
met this difficulty, and, in accomplishing his object,
has developed a system which is capable of most
extensive application, and promises to be as interesting
to science as to the amateur whose love of plants is of
the simplest kind.*

In the summer of 1829, Mr. Ward buried the chry-
galis of a sphinx in some moist mould, contained in a
wide-mouthed glass bottle, covered witha lid. Watch-
ing the bottle from day to day, he observed that the
moisture which became condensed on the internal sur-
face of the glass during the heat of the day, was again
absorbed, thus keeping the mould always in a state of

* On the Growth of Plants in closely-glazed Cases.’ By
N. B. Ward, F.L.S.

THE PENNY MAGAZINE

elegant, excites an |

253

humidity. Before the final change of the insect, a
seedling fern sprung up from the mould, of a species
which Mr. Ward had fruitlessly endeavoured to cultivate
on some rock-work in a yard at the back of his house.
The bottle was now placed outside a window with a
northern aspect, and the fern continned to flourish for
nearly four years, until accidentally destroyed during
Mr. Ward’s absence from home. During this long
period the evaporation and condensation of moisture
constantly kept the mould moist. Mr. Ward soon
began to extend his experiments to plants which the
most skilful botanists had never been able to keep
alive, and which were espccially intractable on account
of the occasional aridity of the atmosphere being fatal
to them. Amongst these was a beautiful cellular
plant, which is found on the rocks at Killarney and in
the laurel forests of Teneriffe. In Mr. Ward's closely-
glazed case it lived in the middle of London, enjoying
the atmosphere in which it delights.

Having satisfied himself of the success of his new
mode of aoe plants, Mr. Ward extended his
experiments still further, and at the present time has
five cases, some of them of the size of asmall green-
house, in which plants of every soil and climate are
flourishing in perfect health, and as luxuriantly as in
their natural tnabitat, and all this has been effected
in one of the crowded parts of London. His glazed
case called the ‘ Tintern Abbey House,’ is about eight
feet square, and is placed outside a staircase window.
In the middle of summer the sun shines upon it for
about an nour, in the morning and evening respectively,
but in winter not at all. It contains about fifty species
of British, North American, and other hardy terns, and
a number of flowering plants which are adapted to a
cold situation, and do not require much solar heat.
The ‘ Alpine Case’ contains plants which naturally
flourish only at a highelevation. The ‘Drawing-room
Case’ stands in the window of a room with a southern
aspect, and is filled with two or three small palms,
some ferns, and a few other plants in the bottom; and
from a bar which runs from end to end at the top
small] pots are suspended, which contain two or three
species of cactus and one or two aloes. In summer
the temperature is frequently 110°, and the case
requires water occasionally. There are twocases with
crocuses and winter aconites, one of which was placed
outside a window, where there was abundance of solar
light, and the other in a warm room with a deficiency
of light. This was done for the sake of experiment;
and the result was, that in the first-mentioned case the
plants grew naturally, while those deprived of a sufli-
ciency of light produced long and pale leaves, but not
asingle flower. Another case, planted with crocuses
and aconites, was placed on a staircase close to a gas-
light, the plants being excluded from the light of day
by a thick dark cloth, which was removed whicn the gas
was lichted at night. They were thus exposed to
artificial light accompanied with some degree of heat,
from five to cight hours out of the twenty-four, spend-
ing the remainder of their time in a state of rest.
“ The plants grew very well, the leaves not so much
drawn up as those in the warm room, and the colour
more intense. One root flowered, the colour of the
flower being blue.” There is also the ‘Case with
Spring Flowers,’ which was placed outside a window
with a southern aspect, in the month of February,
and Mr. Ward. writing in March, says: “It is not, I
believe, possible to see these plants to such an advan-
tage in any ordinary garden.” No nipping winds
check their luxuriance, and they continue in flower
for two or three months. In Mr. Ward's cases, cut
flowers will remain without fading two or three times
as long as in an ordinary room, where, in conerauenee

2L2

260 THE PENNY MAGAZINE

(Jury 2,

of the rapid evaporation, they soon droop. The prin- | vated plants procured at little or no cost, which grow

ciple of Mr. Ward's system is further illustrated by
two of the smallest varieties of Fairy Rose. Three
years azo they were each planted in a tub and covered
with a bell-class, and have ever since remained outside
a window facing the south. They continue in flower
four or five months, and scarcely any watering ie
required, as this is sufficiently effected whenever rain
falls, in consequence of the diameter of the glass being
less than that of the tub of mould at the surface.

In common gardening we see the shadiest spot
sclected for certain plants, while others are exposed so
as to catch the greatest degree of solar light and heat,
and some are placed in situations where they are
sheltered from ungenial winds. They cannot how-
ever be entirely protected from the alternations of the
temperature, and from the variability of the elements,
and though many plants not perfectly acclimatised may
flourish for several seasons, they are cut off at length,
either by a very cold winter, unusually hot summer,
late frosts, or chilling easterly winds. Others cannot
be planted out of doors at all in our climate, but
require the shelter of the green-house. Mr. Ward’s
glazed cases are still more effectual than the ordinary
ereen-house. They protect the plant from the action
of the external air, by maintaining the atmosphere in
a state of perfect quietness. Under this condition
extremes of heat and cold may be endured which would
otherwise be completely destructive of the vital prin-
ciple. Intense cold is often cxperienced in winter

na brisk wind is blowing, although the thermo-
meter may have risen from a lower point, during which
the sensation of cold was scarcely felt, in consequence
of the atmosphere being undisturbed, in these instances
the thermometer not being a correct indication of the
sensations. This is the great i oa of success in the
glazed cases. Mr. Ward has plants for three years
ina window with a southern aspect, and continually
exposed to a heat which, without the glass, would have
withered them in a single day. The exclusion of par-
ticles of soot and other noxious matter adapts the con-
servatory for the town as well as the country; and we
mav select any spot we please, a court-yard, drawing-
room, or staircase window, or a double window, in
which to place the glazed cases, and bid the plants of
tropical regions flourish in the most i spots
in the heart of London. In prisons men have solaced
themselves for the loss of liberty by the visits of a
spider or a mouse, whose motions they have watched
and studied with delight; but here is a study open to
every one who enjoys the comforts of a home, which is
pregnant with the most admirable results, at once gra-
tifying the eye and informing the mind, and opening
a page of the book of nature to the dweller of the city;
and from its inmost recesses he may proceed, thus
instructed, with an intelligent and inquiring spirit, to
claim an acquaintance with the beautiful creations of
vegetable lite in every region of the earth.

The cost of one of the glazed cases is very trifling.
The box containing the plants should be lined with
zinc, and have three or four openings at the bottom
for drainage ; and glazed frames, well painted and
puttied, can be procured at about one shilling the
square foot. The plants to furnish it scarcely need
cost a single farthing. Mr. Ward remarks: ‘“ The
common ivy grows most beautifully and can be trained
over any part of the case. The primroses in early

ring will abundantly repay the labour of fetching

em, continuing for seven or eight weeks to flower as
sweetly as in their native woods. So likewise does
the wood-sorrel, the anemone, the honeysuckle, and a
host of other plants, independently of numerous species
of mosses and ferns. There are likewise many culti-

without the slightest trouble, as the common musk-
plant, myrtles, jasmines, &c. All the vacant spaces
in the case may be employed in raising small salads,
radishes, &c., and I think that a man would be a bad
manager who could not, in the course of a twelve-
month, pay for his case out of its proceeds. These
remarks apply chiefly to situations where there is but
litle solar light. Where there is more sun, a greater
number and varicty of flowering plants will be found to
thrive, such as several kinds of roses, passion-flowcrs,
geraniums, &c., with numerous beautiful annuals.
These cases form the most beautiful blinds, as there is
not a window in London which cannot command
throughout the year the most luxuriant verdure. The
condensation of the moisture upon the colder surface
of the glass effectually obscures the view from with-
out, and at the same time admits far more light than
is allowed to enter by ordinary blinds. Nothing can
be more cheerful than the appearance of rooms thus
furnished.” The cases may vary in size, from that
which fills the sill of a window, to one in which a
diversity of heat, light, and moisture is obtained, suited
to the natural condition of plants which differ widely
from each other in their natural characteristics. Mr.
Ward's largest experimental house is twenty-four fect

‘long, twelve feet wide, and eleven high. We necd

not enlarge on the advantages which botanists will
derive from the observations which the closed cases
will enable them to carry on respecting several obscure
points in the physiology of plants. Mr. Ward on one
occasion watched during a whole night the develop-
ment of the Phallus foctidus, which shot up four inches
in an hour anda half. The growth of other fungi is
io heees! curious and interesting. Lastly, the transport
of seeds and plants from one part of the globe to the
other may be successfully accomplished ; and the
French and English governments have ordered the
glazed cases to be used in all expeditions of discovery.
Plants have been brought to England for the first time
by this means, after every previous attempt had failed

his need scarcely be wondered at when we take into
account the variations of temperature which they had to
undergo. Plants, for example, leave Sydney, where the
temperature is 90° or 100°; south of Cape Horn it
falls to 20°; in crossing the line rises to 120°, and finally
reach England at a period perhaps when the thermo-
meter ranges at 40°. Seeds can also be sown in the
mould, and taken with still less difficulty from the
tropics to any part of the temperate zone.

Mechamem of the Heman Foot.—There is nothing more beau-
tiful than the structure of the human foot, nor perhaps any
demonstration which would lead a well-educated person to
desire more of anatomy than that of the foot. The foot has in
its structure all the fine appliances that you see in a building.
In the first. place, there is an arch in whatever way you regard
the foot ; looking down upon it we perceive several bones coming
round from the astragalos, and forming an entire circle of sur-
faces in the contact. If we look at the profile of the foot, an
arch is still manifest, of which the posterior part is formed by
the heel, and the anterior by the ball of the great toe; and in
the front we find in that direction a transverse arch : so that in-
stead of standing, as might be imagined, upon a solid bone,
we stand upon an arch composed of a series of bones, which are
united by the most curious provisions for the elasticity of the
foot: bence, when we jump from a height directly upon the
heel, a severe shock is felt; not so if we alight on the ball of
the toe, for there an elasticity is found in the whole foot, and the
weight of the body is thrown upon this arch, and the shock
avoided.— Sir C, Bell.

1842,}

THE OAK.

Or this tree more than a hundred and fifty species are
enumerated, and most of them are valuable either as
timber, or for their products, The species from which
the best timber is derived, are, however, the common
oaks, Quercus sessiliflora and pedunculata, both natives
of Britain, and to them we shall chiefly confine our-
selves. In point of strength, durability, and general
applicability, these oaks claim the precedence of all
timber; and to England, which has risen to the highest
rank among the nations, mainly through her commerce
and her marine, the oak, ‘the father of ships,” as it has
been called, is inferior in value only to bee religion,
her liberty, and the spirit and industry of her people.
The oak has been an object of veneration from the
earliest period: from the grove of Dodona, where
“ Cynthia check'd her dragon yoke,
Gently o’er the accustom’d oak ;”

contributing the oaken crowns of the Romans; form-
ing a main feature in the worship of the Druids;
the seat of justice among the Teutonic nations; and

THE PENNY MAGAZINE

261

* y
; eR

“TZ. * Mi” tp, "4
iter ae als LS
~* 2 > id

Ps Feud
hs y .

existing yet in England as boundary-marks or records
of some remarkable circumstance or historical event.

A fine oak is one of the most picturesque of trees.
It conveys to the mind associations of strength and
duration which are very impressive. The oak stands
up against the blast, and does not take, like other
trees, a twisted form from the action of the winds,
Except the cedar of Lebanon, no tree is so remarkable
for the stoutness of its limbs; they do not exactly
spring from the trunk, but divide from it; and thus
it is sometimes difficult to know which is stem and
which is branch. The twisted branches of the oak,
too, add greatly to its beauty; and the horizontal
direction of its boughs, spreading over a large surface,
completes the idea of its sovereignty over all the trees
of the forest. Even a decayed oak—

6. dry aud dead,
Still clad with reliques of its trophies old,
Lifting to heaven its aged, hoary head,
Whose foot on earth hath got but feeble hold—”

—even such a tree as Spenser has thus described is

262

strikingly beautiful: decay in this case looks pleasing.
To sucl: an oak Lucan compared Pompey in his declin-
ing state. The beauty also with which it groups, in its
flourishing state, with other features, must have been
recognised and will be acknowledged by all. ‘“ The
unwedgeable and gnarled oaks,” standing among their
more fragile and short-lived companions of the wild
forest, braving the wintry storms of untold ages, or
united with their more domestic and calmer associa-
tions, where
“ Hard by a cottage chimney smokes
From betwixt two aged oaks,”

are alike objects of unfailing interest.

Of its culture, the nature of the soils suited to it, of
the uses of its timber, its bark, and its fruit, our limits
would not permit us to give any satisfactory account ;
we therefore refer the reader to some of the many
able volumes which have been written on the subject,
and shall in this paper confine ourselves to a notice of
some of the many remarkable English oaks, and for
which we shall be indebted to Mr. Loudon’s very ex-
cellent work on the ‘ Trees and Shrubs of Britain,’ he
having in fact exhausted the subject; and though we
were to go to the original authorities, we should even
then be able to give little more, and perhaps not so
well as he has already done.

“The Leaden Oak, in Ampthill Park, so called
from a large piece of lead having been fixed on it
many ht ago, is remarkable for having been one of
the oaks marked in a survey made of the park in the
time of Cromwell, as being then too old for naval
timber. It is sixty-seven feet high; its trunk is
thirty feet six inches in circumference; and the dia-
meter of its head is eighty-five fect.”

“In Windsor Forest, there are severa] celebrated
oaks: one of these, the King Oak, is said to have been
a favourite tree of William the Conqueror, who made
this a royal forest, and enacted laws for its preservation.
This oak, which stands near the enclosure of Cran-
bourn, is twenty-six feetin circumference at three feet
from the ground. It is supposed to be the largest and
oldest oak in Windsor Forest, being above one thou-
sand years old. It is quite hollow: the space within
is froin seven feet to eight feet in diameter, and the
entrance is about four and a half feet high, and two
feet wide. ‘We lunched in it,’ says Professor Bur-
net, ‘September 2, 1829: it would accommodate at
least twenty persons with standing room; and ten
or twelve might sit down comfortably to dinner. [
think, at Willis’s and in Guildhall, I have danced a
quadrille in a smaller space.’ (Amon. Quer., fol. x. ;
and Eidodendron, pl. 29.) Queen ‘ Anne’s Oak,’ says
Professor Burnet, ‘is a tree of uncommon height and
beauty, under which tradition says that Queen Anne,
who often hunted in Windsor Forest, generally came
to mount her horse.’” *

“The large oak at Wootton is, probably, one of the
handsomest in England. Its trunk measures twenty-
five feet in circumference at one foot from the ground;
and at the height of twelve feet it divides into four
large limbs, the principal of which is fiftecn feet in
circumference. It is above ninety feet high, and
covers an area of one hundred and fifty feet in diameter
with its branches. The great beauty of this tree is the
breadth of its head, occasioned by the enormous size
of its limbs, which gives it so completely the character
of the oak, that nut even the most superficial observer
could ever for a moment mistake it for any other tree.
The Wootton Oak has all the attributes of beauty, dig-
nity, and majesty usually given to the oak-tree: it
once formed part of the ancient forest of Bern Wood,
which was a favourite hunting-ground of Edward the
Confessor.”

* We have already given notices of Herne's Oak, in No. 645.

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

(Jury 2,

“ Meavy’s Oak, on Dartmoor, is about fifty feet high ;
the trunk, which is twenty-seven feet in circumference,
is hollow, and it has held nine persons at one time.
This oak is supposed to have existed in the time of
King John. The Flitton Oak stands singly on a spot
where three roads meet, on an estate belonyzing to the
Earl of Morley, in the parish of North Molton. It is
supposed to be a thousand years old; and, within the
memory of man, it was nearly twice ils present height,
which 1s now about forty-five feet. It 1s thirty-three
feet in circumference at about one foot from the
ground; and at about seven feet it divides into cight
enormous limbs.”

“Not far from Blandford, Gilpin observes, there
‘stood very lately a tree known by the name of Da-
mory’s Oak. About five or six centuries ago, it was
probably in a state of maturity.’ It measured sixty-
eight feet in circumference at the ground, and seven-
teen feet above it was sixteen feet in girth. As this
immense trunk decayed, it became hollow, forming a
cavity fifteen feet wide and seventeen feet high, capa-
ble of holding twenty men. During the civil wars,
and till after the Restoration, this cave was inhabited
by an old man, who sold ale in it. A violent storm, in
1703, greatly injured this venerable oak, and destroyed
many of its noblest limbs; however, forty years after,
it was still so stately a ruin, that some of its branches
were seventy-five feet high, and extended seventy-two
feet from the bole. ‘In 1755, when it was fit for no-
thing but fire-wood, it was sold for 14/.’”

“The Great Oak at Stockbridge stands on part of
the estate of Robert Gordon, Esq., of Leweston, within
a few yards of the turnpike-road. This oak, though it
has stood there several centuries, is in perfect health,
with a well-formed head. The trunk is twenty-two
feet in circumference, height fifty-two feet, and diame-
ter of the head ninety-five feet. One of the, branches
has been broken about ten feet from the bole, appa-
rently many years ago; and the extremity, about
twenty-five or thirty feet from the tree, now hies com-
pletely buried in the ground. The tree stands neg
in a very conspicuous situation, On rising ground,
and attracts the notice of travellers. At Melbury Park,
there is an old oak, called Billy Wilkins, which is fifty
feet high, spreads sixty fect, and has a trunk eight feet
high before it breaks into branches, which is thirty feet
in circumference at the smallest part, and thirty-seven
feet at the collar. It is a remarkably gnarled, knotty
tree, and is called by Mitchell; in his ‘ Dendrologia,’
‘as curly, surly, knotty an old monster as can be con-
ceived ;’ though for marble-grained furniture, he adds,
it would sell at a guinea per foot.”

“The Fairlop Oak stood in an open space of Hai-
nault Forest. ‘The circumference of its trunk, near
the ground, was forty-eight feet; at three feet high,
it measured thirty-six feet round; and the short bole
divided into eleven vast brancliecs, not in the horizontal
manner usual in the oak, but rather with the rise that
is more generally characteristic of the beech. These
boughs, several of which were from ten feet to twelve
feet in girth, overspread an area three hundred feet in
circuit; and for many years a fair was held bencath
their shade, no booth of which was allowed to extend
beyond it. This celebrated festival owed its origin to
the eccentricity of Daniel Day, commonly called “ Good
Day,” who, about 1720, was wont to invite his friends
to dine with him, the first Friday in July, on beans
and bacon, under this venerable tree. From this
circumstance becoming known, the public were at-
tracted to the spot; and about 1725 the fair above
mentioned was established, and was held for many
hehe on the 2nd of July in each year. Mr. Day never
ailed to provide annually several sacks of beans,
which he distributed, with a proportionate quantity of

1842.]

bacon, from the nollowed trunk of the oak, to the
The project of its patron tended
greatly, however, to injure his favourite tree ; and the
orgies annually celebrated to the honour of the F ra
ome
years ago, Mr. Forsyth’s composition was applied to
the decayed branches of this tree, to preserve it from
future injury; probably by the Hainault Archery So-
ciety, who held their mectings near it.’ (Lysons.) At
this period, a board was affixed to one of the limbs of
this tree, with this inscription :—‘ All good foresters
his old tree, a plaster having

(See ‘ Gent.
‘Mr. Day had his coffin made
of one of the limbs of this tree, which was torn off in
a storm; and, dying in 1767, at the age of eighty-four,
he was buried in it in Barking churchyard. The per-
sons assembled at the fair frequently mutilated the
tree ; and it was eaeaias injured by some gipsies, who
But the most

fatal injury it received was in 1805, from a party of

crowds assembled.

Oak yearly curtailed it of its fair proportions.

are requested not to hurt t
been lately applied to his wounds.’
Mag.’ for 1793, p. 792.)

made its trunk their place of shelter.
about sixty cricketers, who had spent the day under
its shade, and who carelessly left a fire burning too
near its trunk. The tree was discovered to be on fire
about eight in the evening, two hours after the cricket-
ers had left the spot; and though a number of persons,
with buckets and pails of water, endeavoured to ex-
tinguish the flames, the tree continued burning till
morning.’ (‘Gent. Mag.,’ June, 1805, p. 574.) ‘The
high winds of February, 1820,’ Professor Burnet in-
forms us, ‘stretched this forest patriarch on the ground,
after having endured the storms of perhaps one
thousand winters. Its remains were purchased by a
builder; and from a portion thereof the pulpit and
reading-desk in the new church, St. Pancras, were
constructed; they are beautiful specimens of British
oak, and will long preserve the recollection of this me-
morable tree.’”’

“The Great Oak, at Panshanger, growing on the
estate of Earl Cowper, is, as Strutt observes, a fine
specimen of the oak-tree in its prime. Though up-
wards of two hundred and fifty years old, and though
it has been called the Great Oak for more than a cen-
tury, it yet appcars ‘even now to have scarcely reached
its meridian: the waving lightness of its feathery
branches, dipping down to the very ground, the
straightness of its stem, and the redundancy of its
foliage, give it a character the opposite of antiquity,
and fit it for the sequestered and cultivated pleasure-
grounds in which it stands.’ ”

“The Nannau Oak, which was blown down in 1813,
measured twenty-seven feet six inches in circum-
ference, and had for centuries been celebrated among
the Welsh as the Hobgoblin’s Hollow Tree, ‘Dderwn
Ceubren yr Ellyll.’ This celebrated tree was also
known by the names of the Spirit’s Blasted Tree, and
the Haunted Oak. The legend respecting it is, that
Howel Sele, a Welsh chieftain, and Lord of Nannau,
Was privately slain in a hunting quarrel by his cousin
Owen Glendower and his friend Maddoc. e body, in
which life was not yet extinct, was hidden in the hollow
trunk of this tree by the murderers. Owen returned
in haste to his sivongbold, Glendewwrdry. Howel was
sought for, but in vain; and, though groans and hollow
sounds were heard proceeding from the tree, no one
thought of looking in it. Aftera el of years, Owen
Glendower died, and on his deathbed enjoined his
companion Maddoc to reveal the truth: he did so, and
the skeleton of Howel was discovered upright in the
hollow of the tree, and still, according to the legend,
grasping a rusty sword in its bony hand. A ballad on
this subject, by Mr. Warrington, is printed in the notes
to Scott’s ‘Marmion.’ ”

(To be continued.)

an undulating ‘country, chiefi

THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 263

DELABOLE SLATE-QUARRIES.

In a recent number we gave an account of slate-
quarrying in Cumberland : we have now been favoured
bya sgh ln with a more detailed description
of the working of a celebrated quarry at the other
extremity of the kingdom.

The Delabole quarries are situated in this parish of
St. Teath, in Cornwall, about twelve miles from Bod-
min. They arc three in number—two of them placed
in the recess of a long linc of hills of very moderate
elevation, the third on the other side of these hills.
It is to the largest and innermost of the two that our
description chiefly refers.

On entering the works at the inner end of the recess
(about three-fourths of a mile in depth and one-fourth
wide at the outer opening) a mass of apparent rubbish
first presents itself. Much of the heap is really such,
and consists of the refuse of the quarry. Over this
trams are laid down in various directions for convey-
ing the waggons loaded with raw material raised
from the pit. The unserviceable portion is for the
most part brought up separately, and goes to extend
and elevate this ever accumulating mass, while the
true slate is run off the trams to other spots to be pre-
pared by the workmen. Owing to the slope of the
ground, this heap is on a level with the entrance,
and from it the sights and sounds of busy industry
appear, and the ear is assailed by the reverberating
crash of explosions proceeding from the pit. The
waggons are scen advancing along the trams pro-
pelled by men, steam-power having previously brought
them up the incline; the splitters are actively taking
off the loads as brought to them, and the produce of
their industry appears on all sides in long piles of
roofing-slate ready for use.

From this point there isa striking view of the lower
quarry, its machinery, incline, &c.; the men studded
over a vast heap of débris; beyond, you look out over
in pasture, the rough
ridge of Brown Willy rising in the distance. Stand-
ing at the edge of the pit, a visitor might almost sup-
pose himself at a railway station, from the many lines
of trams, turning platforms, &c. Looking over the
boarding fixed there for security, a singular spectacle
presents itself. This pit is three hundred feet deep, and
its surface at the bottom about three-quarters of an
acre, The sides are precipitous, but of unequal height,
the bottom apparently level; on it are working about
ahundred quarrymen. Bending down to their labour,
and clothed in a whitish dress, their diminutive appcar-
ance at that depth affords a resemblance to sheep
scattered over a deep hollow. On looking round, we
observe two steam-engines in buildings a short dis-
tance apart and not far from the edge. From these
issue eight sets of double parallel chains running over
the t-heads, a structure elevated many feet above
us. At each head a waggon is raised or lowered by
one chain, supported on the other by an iron arm, having
a small iron wheel at the end, which wheel runs on this
second chain, fixed in the bottotn of the pit, and is kept
to it bya loop. Thus the waggon throws outas it were
a fore foot, which seems to wheel up and down the chain,
and in fact does so, hut for a purpose to be presently
explained.

The tumbrils of the waggons are used as buckets.
They are wholly of wrought-iron, about tour feet square
and a foot deep. In these the slate is brought up.
On reaching the brink, or rather the et-heads
several feet higher, a platform, on which are the wheels
&c., resting on trams, is run out, and the tumbrils are
lowered on it. The waggons are then pushed on b
hand to the foot of the incline before mentioned, whic
is laid up the side of the rubbish heap, from whence

264

they are drawn by an endless chain attached to steam-
machinery, an empty waggon descending a parallel
incline at the same moment, and thus aiding also the
ascent of the loaded one. At the top the waggon
detaches itself by a simple and ingenious contriv-
ance, and is then further propelled by hand to the
splitters.

It is, of course, necessary sometimes to lower them
directly down under the puppet-head ; at others, to
direct them to the opposite side of the pit, or to some
intermediate point, just as the quarried slate may Lie at
the moment. This is done in the following manner :—
One of the two chains belonging to each set of the
eight is fixed at the bottom of the pit, at the opposite
side. It is very long, and usually hangs down, per-
pendicularly, the remainder of its length lying a ong
the bottoin of the pit. By the other chain the tumbri
is lowered. In lowering it directly down, the fixed
chain remains quiescent; but when it is wished to
deposit the tumbrils at any more distant point, the
fixed chain is more or less tightened into an inclined
position by the aid of machinery on the surface ; the
tumbril consequently follows the fixed chain, by means
of the wheel attached, and is deposited at the desired
spot. Very large pieces required for any particular
purpose are brought up slung in chains.

Once in every hour the blasting charges are fired
off. Those on the same side of the quarry are fired
together, the pitmen collecting on the side opposite
in perlect security.

_ About seven hundred tons are raised daily. The
sides of the pit are not of uniform height all round. At
the lowest point is a fixed ladder, by which the work-
men go up and down. This ladder is very little out
of the perpendicular, and hasa fearful look! On the
side opposite to the puppet-heads is a lift of pumps for
draining the pit, worked by a water-whec! above a
hundred yards distant. When water fails, this wheel
1s moved y steam-power.

Although, for convenience sake, the works have been
described as entered by the inner end of the nook in
the hills, yet the most striking appearances are pre-
sented when proceeding up the recess. At the entrance
a stupendous heap of débris fronts us; on the left the
recess has a steep slope with a little wood on it; a lofty
engine-chimney, like a round tower, rises before us;
farther up we again arrive at the works of the quarry,
the rubbish heap showing as a mass of blue slate, and
the view closed by the grassy ridge of the hill, crowned
at intervals with houses of the workmen. Proceeding
onwards we come again to the pit, but on the side op-
posite to that on which we before stood. From the
slope of the ground, the machinery, puppet-heads, &c.,
which now front us, are much elevated, seeming almost
to be hung inthe air. The sides of the pit adjoining
these are in many parts built up to a lofty height, like
fortress walls, to prevent the rubbish from falling back
into it; while the enormous chains swinging about,
the tumbrils hanging from them, and directly over the
heads of the workmen below, the occasional roar of the
blasting and roll of the smoke,—all this produces a
striking effect.

_The masses obtained by blasting are divided in the
pit into blocks about a foot in thickness. These again,
when brought to the surface, are further split by chisel
and mallet into the various sizes required. Roofing-
slate 18 squared up by hand, the workinan holding the
slate on a thin piece of iron fixed edgewise in a block
of wood and striking it with a giz, or mason’s cutter,
He regulates the size by a notched stick. Fanciful
titles are given to the different sizes, as princesses,
duchesses, countesses, &c. They are arranged in long
rows, those of the same sort together. Between every
ten dozen a bit of rough slate is placed, so that in

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

{[JuLy 2,

making up orders the counting is speedily per-
formed. The colour of the slate is a greyish blue.
Chimney-pieces are manufactured of it, and various
other articles, including tomb-stones, which are pre-
pared in a set of workshops near the engines. Nearly
the whole of the power employed here is from steam,
the two engines, of forty-horse power each, supplying
what is required, in addition to the pit-work, &c. The
plates are cut into sizes by circular saws on Brunel’s
principle, of small diameter, but large teeth. The saw
cuts on the average about a foot in a minute, not how-
ever without sundry Atiches occasioned by the nature
of the materia]. There are also twenty-fuur frames
carrying saws of the usual kind for stone-cutting,
without teeth, and worked by cranks. The first step
towards polishing is to give an even surface to the
pa This is effected by fixing the rough slate on a

ed moving on rollers, and forcing it, by means of a
winch (turned by hand), against a sort of large chisel.
The polishing is completed by working the plate hori-
zontally up and down a fixed bed or face, on which
sand and water are directed in the usual manner.
Water-tanks are also made of this alate, capable of
holding from a few gallons up to one thousand: they
are used likewise for salting meat, malt-cisterns, &c.
They are sent from the works in parts, grooves being
cut In the side-pieces, into which the ends fit. When set
up, the sides are screwed close home on the ends by four
iron rods running through them outside the ends, be-
yond which the side-pieces project a little. For floor-
ing the slate is extensively used. Some single pieces
for this or other uses, of ten feet square and upwards,
are successfully finished. As may be supposed, the
roofs in the surrounding country are all of slate. It
is also much used for door porches, steps, sills, edgings,
&c. Fences are obtained from the same convenient
material, a bank of earth four feet high being raised,
on which are fixed large angular pieces of slate
somewhat inclined.

For exporting the produce of the quarries, there are
two places on the neighbouring coast. Port Gavan,
distant four miles, and Boscastle, five. Much is sent
coastwise, and about twenty cargoes of roofing-slate, of
eighty tons cach, exported to France. The slate is
conveyed to the seaside in waggons drawn partly by
oxen and partly by horses. Some pyrites and quartz
crystals of good water are found occasionally. In the
three Delabole quarries about seven hundred people
are employed, and about a tenth of the number are
women. The wages are ood men earning on an
average 15s. a week, and women 6s. These last,
while at work, wear over their other dress a common
wageoner’s frock, to protect it from the dust of the
slate. Nearly the whole of the employment 13 piece-
work (called tut): There are about twenty depart-
ments, the principle of division of labour being fully
acted on. The people are paid once a month only, the
time required for measuring piece-work not permit-
ting (it 1s said) more frequent payments. A market
is held on the premises twice a week; once for meat,
and once for corn. In Messrs. Avery's works (to
which our description refers) a set of rules for the
government of the people, both as to their working
and their conduct generally, is adopted. Various fines
are inflicted for infractions. These, after paying the
salary of a medical man, are bestowed in rewards to
those who, during the year, have not incurred any fine.
As a body the quarriers are well-conducted and indus-
trious. Potato plots are cultivated by them in the
neighbouring lands, and in summer they may be often
seen hoeing and cleaning their crops after the hours of
work are over.

1842. ]

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THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

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NATIVES OF NOOTKA SOUND.

On the north-west Coast of North America there isa
large island called the Island of Quadra and Vancouver,
which is separated from the mainland on the east by a
narrow channel. Nootka Sound is on the western side
of the island, in nearly the fiftieth parallel of latitude.
The entrance is between two roc y points three or
four miles apart, and the sound gradually increases in
width and extends inwards about ten miles. It con-
tains numerous harbours, and was visited for the first
time by Captain Cook in his last voyage. The name
was changed by him from King George's Sound, which
he had at first given it, to that of Nootka, which was
the native appellation. The coast abounded with seals
and sea-otters, and a few years after Cook’s visit it was
proposed to form an establishment here for the purpose
of carrying on a trade in furs with China. In 1786a
settlement was commenced, but the Spaniards claimed
a prior right to the territory, and the projected esta-
blishment wasabandoned. The subject became a point
for diplomatic arrangement between the Spanish and
English governments, and excited the same sort of
feeling which a similar question relating to the Falk-
land Islands had done twenty years before. The dis-
pute was settled by a convention, in pursuance of
which Nootka Sound was formally taken possession of,
but after a short period we also abandoned the settle-
ments which had been commenced, though our claim
to the island as a British ion still exists. Cook
states that the climate is ‘infinitely milder than the
east coast in the same parallel of latitude.”
his stay, which was in the month of April, the thermo-

No. 659.

meter at night never descended below 42°, and in the
a often rose to 60°.
he natives of Nootka Sound are not an interesting
eople, and are greatly inferior to the other tribes
inhabiting the continent. In their physical and intel-
Jectual characteristics they are more nearly allied to the
Esquimaux than to the neighbouring race of red men,
and are, in fact, not very much superior to the inhabit-
ants of Tierra del Fuego. They are not ferocious or
treacherous, but on the whole are a mild and good-
natured people. They exhibited little or no curiosity
on being first visited by Europeans, and a dull and
inexpressive countenance marks their low intellectual
condition. They are of short stature, with ill-propor-
tioned limbs, and the women are scarcely distinguish-
able in appearance from the men. The face is round
and often broad, with the cheek-bones prominent, and
the eye-brows scanty and narrow. The colour of the
skin in adults is of about the same a og as that
of the natives of southern Europe, and the children
are nearly as fair skinned as those of England. The
true colour of the skin, however, is not often seen, in
consequence of their bodies being stained with a red
— mixed with oil, the face being coloured of a
righter hue, or marked with streaks of black and
white. The hair is long, black, and coarse. Orna-
ments of bone and metal are worn in the ear and nose.
The ordinary dress consists of a mantle edged with fur
at the top and fringed at the bottom, which is made
out of the bark of the pee beaten into fibres. Jt is
worn over the right shoulder, passes under the left

During | arm, and is fastened in such a manner as to leave both

Over this is a covering for the shoulders
Vout. XI.—2 M

arms free.

266

and chest, of the same material, with a hole in the

middle, through which the wearer inserts his head.

A cap, fastened by a chin-strap, and ornamented at the

Lane leather tassels or a round knob, is worn on the
ead.

The houses are constructed of long broad planks,
resting edge to edge, and fastened to poles by withces
of the pine. One side is higher than the other, to give
the necessary slope to the rvof, the planks on which
are loosely laid so as to admit of a temporary opening
being made in fine weather. Irregular holes in the
sides, with a mat hanging before them, serve as
windows. Several families usually live in one of these
habitations, a space for each being partitioned off; but
the fire in the centre is used incommon. A glance
at the cut will convey a better idea of the interior than
a written description. The boxes ranged around con-
tain dresses and the property of each family. The
household articles consist of square and oblong wooden
vessels for water, baskets of twigs, bags of matting
made from the pine bark, and shallow troughs about
two feet long, out of which they eat their food. Imple-
ments of hunting and fishing are carclessly scattered
about. Here the fish are brought m and gutted, and
hung from the rafters to dry. The interior of these
dwellings is no doubt correctly described by Cook,
who says they are ‘‘as filthy as hog-sties, everything in
and about them stinking of fish, train-oil, and smoke.”
The large grotesque carvings are probably only in-
tended for ornament. Carving in wood is an art in
which both skill and ingenuity are displayed ; and their
drawings are much better than those of most uncivi-
lized people. Soinetimes the whole process of the
whale fishery is painted on their caps.

The men are chiefly engaged in hunting and fishing,
and in the manufacture and repair of their nets, hooks,
jincs, harpoons, bows, arrows, slings, spears, canoes,
and articles for household use. The largest canoes
will hold above twenty persons, and the natives spend
a large part of their time on the water. A curious
instrument is made for taking fish when they visit the
coast in shoals. It resembles an oar, and is about
twenty feet long and four or five fect broad, the
handle being one-third of this length. The broad part,
which is twelve or thirteen feet long, is studded with
sharp bone-teeth, and when struck into a shoal of fish,
they are caught by and between the teeth. By far the
larger proportion of their food is drawn from the sea.
Large stores of fish are dried and smoked, and the roves
prepared like caviare, form what Cook calls their
winter bread. Fish-oil is drank, and also mixed with
other food. Several roots and vegetables are used in
their diet, but they are such as grow wild, as cultiva-
tion is not practised. The common mode of cooking
ss by broiling and roasting; but having only wooden
vessels, boiling isa troublesome process, and is effected
by plunging heated stones into the water. The women
fro out In canoes, which they manage as skilfully as
the men, to take mussels and shell-fish; but their
usual occupation is within-doors, They work up a
fabric entirely by hand, without any assistance from the
loom, which resembles a blanket in texture. Figures
are introduced, which display considerable taste,
and they are generally dyed of a more brilliant colour
than the other parts ; but the usual material for dresses
is the fibres of the pine bark. Iron had found its way
to this distant quarter before Captain Cook’s visit,
being obtained by barter from the tribes who had
intercourse with our traders in Canada and the eastern
parts of the continent, but chisels and knives were the
only tools of this metal: though even this limited use
would be productive of great benefits. The desire of
obtaining so useful an article would give rise to a rude
commercial Intercourse, in furtherance of which it

—”

THE PENNY

MAGAZINE. (Suny 9,
would be necessary to procure other things besides
those which administered only to the wants of the
moment; and this would occasion habits of thought
and foresight favourable totheir improvement. More
powerful causes must, however, be at work to raise
them much above their present low condition.

FROISSART AND HIS CHRONICLE.—No. V
THE BLACK PRINCE IN SPAIN.

In “the same season,” says Froissart, speaking of the
years 1365-G, or nine or ten years atter the battle of
Poitiers, “there was a king in Castile called Don
Pedro, who was full of niarvellous opinions, And he
was rude and rebel against the commandments of holy
church, and in mind to subdue all bis Christian neizh-
bours, kings, and princes.” Thus does the historian
introduce to us the personage known in modern times
as Peter the Cruel, of Spain. Among the numerous.
acts which justify the claim of this sovereign to his.
bad pre-eminence, was the putting to death his father’s.
mistress, and the mother of his half-brothers: this was.
his first kingly act on ascending the throne at the age
of sixteen years, and his subsequent reign was spent.
in the strictest accordance with its commencement.
But if ever crime and vice brought their own full
pues it was in Don Pedro’s case, whose entire
ife was one continued scene of armed struggle for
the crown, which he might probably have worn in
comparative peace had he chosen to have been but w
little less outragcous in his oppression, to have been
not quite so inhuman in his ferocity; and whose death
was attended by circumstances more awful than any
which had previously marked his career. Llis hali-
brothers were, as might have been expected after the
murder of their mother, Pedro’s chief opponents, the
leaders of the rebellion which was so Jong destined to.
cover that beautiful country with the calamities of the
worst species of war. At first they were defeated,
and were obliged to emigrate into the country of
Pedro, king of Arragon, “ who was a good true Chiis-
tian prince,’ and towards whom accordingly his name-
sake more especially bore ill-will. In 1353, by the
advice of his unprincipled minister Albuquerque,
Peter married Blanche of Bourbon, a princess of the:
royal house of France; and having done so in accord-
ance with the political advantages held out, returned
to his favourite mistress (as she was then reputed):
Donna Maria de Padilla; and shortly after Queen:
Blanche found herself in the fortress of Arevalo. A
little more time elapsed, and anew marriage astonished:
the Spanish people. The king beheld a young lady
of noble family, Donna Juana de Castro, and at once:
fell passionately in love with her; he then laid the
matter before the bishops of Avila and Salamanca,
who, on grounds which appear to be unknown, judged.
that he might marry her—his former marriage with
Blanche being null. In 1354 the marriage took place,.
and then she too was in a very short space of time:
dismissed from the royal favour. Her brother Fer-.
nando Perez de Castro now joined the growing band!
of the royal opponents; Blanche, with a powerful.
party, did the same; and at last the league grew so-
formidable, that the wily Pedro succumbed, promised:
to discard his still favourite mistress Maria de Padilla,.
and live with Blanche: he thus saved himself from.
the Papal bull of excommunication about to be issucd..
But when he found himself strong enough to appear:
once more in his true colours, he attacked the leaders:
of the league, overthrew them, and among the rest.
caused one of his half-brothers, Fadrique, to be put to:
death in his presence. Now began a new career of
wholesale butchery. Blanche died in 1361, it 18 sup--
posed from poison administered by her husband's

1812.]

order; and soon after Maria de Padilla also died,
when anew circumstance of wonder was revealed ;—she
had, it appears, been his legally married wife prior to
either of his public marriages. Such, at least, was the
king’s declaration to the Cortes which he summoned
after her death (and which declared her issue by him
legitimate); and several witnesses, whose fidelity does
not seem to be assailable, swore to the truth of the
statement.

In 1366 the man to whom all Pedro’s enemics
looked as his successor, and their chief leader, Enrique,
the eldest of the half-brothers, collected an army of
thirty thousand men, chiefly consisting of those extra-
ordinary bodies of military trecbooters called the Com-
panions, who played so conspicuous a part at different
times during the middle ages. They were led, by the
celebrated warrior Duguesclin and himself, across the
Pyrenees, and drove Pedro from the throne without
giving him an opportunity of striking a blow in its
defence. He fled first to a kindred spirit in Portugal,
and thence to Bordeaux; where he found the man
who, he hoped, wonld assist him to regain his lost
dominion, the Black Prince. It is about this period
that Froissart’s relation may be said to commence.
We must premise that strong political as well as fa-
mily tics existed to plead in Pedro's favour. Enrique
had formed treaties with France (our old enemy, as we
then considered her), and was recciving assistance trom
that country,—a consideration of more weight with
Prince Edward and the king his father, than all
Pedro's faithlessness and cruelty: the result showed,
however, that the old proverb contains a world of
Dares truth,—Honesty would have been their best
policy.
rc The prince, who greatly desired to see his cousin
the king Don Pedro, and, to do him the more honour
and feast, issued out of Bourdeaux accompanied with
divers knights and squires, and went and met the
king, and did to him great reverence both in word and
deed, the which he could do right well, for there was
NO prince in his time that could show more honour
than he. And when the prince had well feasted him,
then they rode to Bourdeaux ; and the prince took the
king above hiin—in nowise he would do otherwise ;
and as they rode together, the king Don Pedro showed
the prince how his bastard brother had chased him out
of his realm of Castile; and also he piteously com-
peau him of the untruth of his men, showing him
10W they had all forsaken him except one knight, the
which was there with him, called Don Ferdinand de
Castro. The prince right courteously and sagely re-
comforted him, desiring him not to be abashed nor dis-
comforted, for though he had as then lost all, he
trusted it should be in the puissance of God to restore
him again all his loss, and moreover to take vengeance
of all his enemics. Thus, as they talked together, they
rode so long that they came to Bourdeaux, and
alighted at the abbey of St. Andrew, whereas the
prince and princess kept their house. And then the
king was brought to a fair chamber ready apparelled
for him; and when he was changed, he went to the
princess and the ladies, who received hiin right cour-
teously, as they could right well do.” In the last few
words of this passage we have one of those domestic
touches which make Froissart so delightful a nar-
rator: with the finest artistical instinct he withdraws
our minds from the great subject of his pen, the war,
the battle, the siege, or the tournament, whenever we
inight be most apt to become weary,—refreshes us
with a draught from the simple springs of natural
customs or emotions, and then again goes on his way
rejoicing, secure of our attention and sympathy. The

best of this is, too, that these very touches are the most.

THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 267

effective of all antidotes to the poison that might other
wise be instilled by making events in which “ man’s
inhumanity to man” forms so conspicuous a feature, a
subject of surpassing interest. Do not “the Abbcy of
St. Andrew, where the prince and princess kept their
house,” “the fair chamber,’ and the courteous
‘« Jadies,” interest us more than Pedro's crimes? Are
we not even better pleased in our hearts with the
Black Prince, thus seen in the quiet serenity and
privacy of home, than when we behold him in the
ficld, cruel as aglion, and taking pleasure in the
slaughter of his enemies, even though he has but just
won the battle of Poitiers ?

‘“ And when king Don Pedro of Castile was come to
the prince, to the city of Bourdeaux, he humbled
himself right sweetly to the prince, and offered to him
freat gift and profit, in saying that he would make
Edward, his eldest son, king of Gallicia, and that he
would depart to him and to his men great good and
riches, the which he had left behind him in the realin
of Castile because he durst not bring it with him ; but
this riches was in so sure keeping, that none knew
where it was but himself: to the which word the
knights gave good intent, for Englishmen and Gascous
naturally are covetous.” Froissart gives us another
illustration of this part of the national character. Pru-
dence was highly necessary in dealing with a man
like Pedro. So after the parliament held at Bordeaux
had met and agreed to send to England and know the
at abies of the king, and the latter in answer had sent
ull permission for the prince to form a treaty, a “ new
day of council” was held, when the letters and com-
mandments of Edward were read to the assembled
barons and warriors. ‘ Sirs,” said they, “ joyously,”
in answer, ‘we shall gladly obey the king our sove-
reign lord’s commandment; it is reason that we obey
you and him, and so we will do, and serve you in this
voyage, and king Pedro in like wise: but, Sir, we
would know who should pay us our wages, for it will
be hard to get out men of war into a strange country.”
Then the prince “ beheld Don Pedro,” and said, ‘ ‘Sir
king, ye hear what our people say—answer you them ;,
for it behoveth you to answer, seeing the matters be
yours.’ Then the king Don Pedro answered the
prince and said, ‘ Right dear cousin, as far as the
gold, silver, and treasure that I have brought hither,
which is not the thirtieth part so much as I have left
behind me, as long as that will endure, I shall give
and part therewith to your people.’ Then the prince
said, ‘ Sir, ye say well, and as for the remnant, I shall
become debtor to them, and pay them as the case re-
quireth, the which I shall lend you, and all that we
need until we come into Castile.’ ‘Sir,’ quoth the
king Don Pedro, ‘ye do me great courtesy and
grace.’ ”

In the service of Enrique, now claiming to be king
of Castile, were a great number of Englishmen and
Gascons: to these the prince sent messages desiring
them to leave “ Henry the Bastard,” and come to him ;
and they departed immediately, rather than fight against
their own countrymen, although they had been treated
with the highest respect, liberality, and good faith by
the reigning king. Whilst the prince yet waited in
Bordeaux, making his preparations, ‘“ the princess
travailed, and through the grace of God she was
delivered of a fair son on the day of the Three Kings of
Cologne, the which was, as that year went, on a Wed-
nesday, at the hour of three or thereabout, whereof
the prince and all his people were right joyous; and
the Friday after he was christened, at noon, in the
church of St. Andrew in the city of Bordeaux *

* Froissart tells us, elsewhere, he was present at the cere-
mony. er

268 THE PENNY

The archbishop of the same place christened him, and
the bishop of Agen, in Agenois, and the king of
Majorca, were his godfathers ; and this child had to
name Richard, who was afterwards king of England.
The Sunday after, at the hour of prime, departed from
Bordeaux the prince, with great triumph, and all other
men of war.” On his way he met his brother the
Duke of Lancaster, come from England to join him
with a small reinforcement of men-of-arms and archers,
and the English and Gascons to the amount of several
thousand men from the court of the enemy he was
about to attack, who were Jed by Sir Hugh de Cal-
verley and Sir Robert Knowles. The army now
reckoned about thirty thousand men, among whom
were ten thousand of the Companions. Amidst cold
and wind and snow, the prince passed through the
straits and perilous passages of the Pyrenees, and in
particular the valley of Ronccsvalles, the scene of the
great route of Charlemagne and his paladins, and so
‘othe city of Pampeluna, where the king of Navarre
made them “great cheer.” The Companions made
the latter monarch repent of the free passage through
his country he had promised and given ; for whilst they
lay about Pampeluna for three days, “ they could not
abstain from robbing and pilling (pillaging) that they
could get.”

Enrique, or king Henry, as Froissart calls him, in
the meantime exerted himself to the utmost; and
collected an army more numerous than the invaders,
but less to be depended upon, with which he advanced
to the combat that was to decide his fate. On the even-
ing of the 2nd of April, 1366, the Black Prince and
his antagonist each found themselves before Najara,
in the plain between that place and Navarcte, a few
miles from the right bank of the Ebro. The battle
did not take place till the 3rd, but an interesting in-
cident, a kind: of minor battle, marked the proceedings
of this day. A large body of the Spaniards roamed
about skirmishing, and obtained, from their number,
scveral little successes; the most important is thus
told by the historian :—‘‘In the returning of the
Spaniards, and approaching their own host, they
encountered Sir Thomas Felton, and his brother Sir
Richard Taunton, the Earl of Angus, Sir Hugh Has-
tings, Sir Gaylerd Vigor, and others, to the number of
two hundred knights and squires, English and Gascons ;
and in a valley they met; and the Spaniards cried
‘Castile!’ in the name of King Henry. Then the
English coinpany sceing that great company of Spa-
niards, and how they could not escape from them, they
comforted theinselves as well as they might, and kept
them together in the field, and took the advantage of
a little hill, Then the Spaniards came and rested
themselves before them, imagining by what means
they might best fight with thein. Then Sir William
Felton did a great feat of arms and great outrage, for
he descended down the hill with his spear in the rest,
proving the goodness of his courser, and ran in among
the Spaniards, and struck a knight so rudely with his
spear, that the spear ran clean through his body, and the
knight fell down dead. Then this Sir William was
enclosed round about with his enemics, and there he
fought as valiantly as any knight might do, and did
his enemies great damage cre he was etricken to the
earth. His: brother Sir Thomas Felton and _ the
other knights that were with him on the mountain,
saw how he fought, and did marvels in arms, and saw
well what peril he was in, but they could not comfort
lim without losing of themselves: so they stood still
in their array on the mountain ; and the said knight
fought still as long as he could endure, but finally
there he was slain. Then the Spaniards and French-
icn imagined how they might invade the Englishmen

MAGAZINE. {Juy 9,
on the mougtain. So that day there were diverse feats
of arms done and achieved; for sometime part of
them would descend down the mountain and fight
with their enemies, and recule wisely back again to it.
Thus in this estate they were till it was high noon
The prince would gladly have comforted them if he
had known thereof, and delivered them out of that
eril, but he was not aware thereof; therefore it be-
1oved them to abide their adventure.

When they had thus endured skirmishing a great
season, Don Sancho (one of the king of Castile’s
brothers), who was sore displeased that they endured
so lung, said a-high to his company, ‘ Lords, for shame,
what do we here thus all day? We ought in this
time to have devoured them: advance forward, and
let us fight with them with a fierce will: there is
nothing will be got without it be dearly bought.’
With these words the Frenchmen and Spaniards
advanced them forth with a hardy courage, and came
to them so close together, that they could not be
broken. So then on the mountain was done many
afeat of arms; and the Englishmen and Gascons
defended themselves to their powers right valiantly ;
but after the Spaniards were entered in among them,
they could not endure. Finally they were all taken
and conquered with force of arms, so that none
escaped but certain varlets and pages that saved them-
selves by their horses, and at night came to the prince's
host, who that day was ranged on the hill to fight.”
If the English had cared much for omens, this first
incident of the struggle might have somewhat de-
pressed their spirits; as it was, no doubt they merely
calculated how many hours it would be betore their
companions would be relicved from their captivity.

.To be continued.)

Progress of Geographical Discovery in Australia. —The * Sydney
Herald’ of .February 5th contains a communication from the
Surveyor-General of New South Wales, respecting the discovery
of two considerable rivers in the northern part of Australia. It
appears that while her Majesty’s ship ‘ Beagle’ was engaged in
surveying a line of coast extending about two hundred miles in
the Gulf of Carpentaria, numerous inlets were discovered, and rich
tracts of well-watered country, besidestwo important rivers, which
have been respectively named the Albert and the Flinders. The
Albert river takes a south-western general direction: its entrance
isin 17° 36/8. lat. and 139° 49’ F. long.; and it is navigable, for
vessels drawing twelve feet, within a few miles of where the
water is fresh. The tortuous course of the Albert was traced
by the boats upwards of seventy miles, and seven miles farther
on foot. Many deep watercourses and other indications of
heavy rain were noticed on the journey: the appearance of the
country was that of a vast plain, elevated some fifty feet, with
widely scattered and rather pretty patches of woodland; the soil
generally a dark rich mould. The farthest position of the
explorers placed them within four hundred miles of that myste-
rious spot, the centre of Australia. There the Albert was a
narrow rapid stream, flowing from the south, probably the
drainage of a large swamp or inland seas and, judging from
appearances, one not very distant.” The Surveyor-Gencral's
informant, who was an officer of the ‘ Beagle,’ exclaims: “ What
a point of departure for an exploring party, and what a desirable
site for a settlement! A country cleared by nature, and in a
el ig ranging between 52° and 82°, gencrally below 60°

in July).” The natives were neither numerous nor troublesome.

he Albert is especially interesting, as being the most likely
channel by which the interior of the country may be reached.
The distance from the bottom of the Gulf of Carpentaria to Ade-
Jaide is nine hundred miles. If the Albert river were fulluwed
up, and a depét formed two hundred miles inland from the gulf,
and another at the limits of Mr. Eyre’s exploration from the
southward, which extended nearly three hundred miles from
Adelaide, a party traversing the country would only bave fuur
hundred miles to travel on their own resources.

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THE CARP.

“Tue Carp,” says ]zaak Walton, “is the queen of ri-
vers; a stately, a good, and a very subtle fish, that
was not at first bred, nor hath been ng Se England,
but is now naturalized.” Writing in the middle of
the seventeenth century, he says, that about a hundred
years ago, or a few years more, there were doubtless
no carp in England; and he attributes their intro-
duction to Mr. Mascall, who lived at Plumsted, in
Sussex, a county which then abounded more in this
fish than any other part of the kingdom. The old
couplet of Sir Richard Baker’s ‘ Chronicle,’ that

“ Hops and turkeys, carp and beer,
Came iuto England all in one year,”

is wholly erroneous, not only as regards carp, but
the other items also. Sir Harris Nicolas, in his
elaborate and beautiful edition of Walton, shows that
the fish was known in England long before the period
assigned. In ‘The Book of St. Albans,’ printed by Wyn-
Kyn de Worde, in 1496, it is said—‘ The carp is a
deyntous fysshe: but ther ben but fewe in Englonde.”
The Privy-Purse Expenses of Henry VIII., for 1532,
contains various entries of rewards to persons for
bringing carps to the king. Most probably the carp
was brought into this country some time during the
fourteenth or fifteenth centuries, and no doubt for a
long period it continued scarce. It was not known in
Ireland until the reign of James I., and is scarce in
Scotland to this day. No fish can be so easily conveyed
alive from place to place. It is so tenacious of life, that
in Holland it is often kept for three weeks or a month
suspended in a net with wet moss, and fed with bread

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

‘3
AAS
OS

steeped in milk; care being taken to refresh the fish
now and then a pee water on the moss.

The haunts of the carp in summer are in deep holes,
under roots of trees, and hollews of banks, or amidst
weeds and flags. In winter they bury themselves in
the mud in the quietest parts of the river. The
spawning-time is at the end of May or beginning of

une. It is stated on the authority of two German
naturalists that in the roe of a female weighing six
pounds the number of ova was six hundred thousand ;
and in another, weighing ten pounds, there were seven
hundred thousand. It is well known that the carp is
exceedingly prolific. The usual size which the fish
attains in English rivers is from twelve to fifteen or
sixteen inches. Walton had never seen one exceeding
twenty-three inches in length, but knew that they were
found of a larger size. A iight, loamy, or gravelly
bottom is favourable to their increase, both in numbers
and size, as it furnishes in sufficient abundance the
vegetable matter, worms, and larve on which they
feed. The carp does not breed freely in Scotland, and is
scarcely known in Russia. It thrives best in the
central and southern parts of Europe. M. Boccius,
the author of a recent work ‘On the Management of
Fresh-water Fish, with a View to making Them a
Source of Profit to Landed Proprietors, mentions
two breeding carp taken from a friend's pond in
Saxony, which were of the respective weights of fifty-
two and fifty-three Saxon pounds, or fifty-six and fifty-
seven pounds English. A stuffed carp, three feet four
inches Jong, which was taken from Antwerp or the
neighbourhood, may be seen at the present time ata
fishmonger’s in enhall-market. Mr. Yarrell states
| that carp attain a weight of three pounds by their sixth

270 THE PENNY

year, and of six pounds before their tenth year. M. Boc-
cius gives an account somewhat different. In the au-
tumn of their third year, he says, they weigh from
three to four pounds; and in their sixth year they attain
from eight to ten pounds; and afterwards increase at
the rate of a pound and a quarter and a pound and a
half a-year until they reach the ordinary weight of
thirty pounds. In these statements M. Boccius is speak-
ing of the fish-ponds in Saxony, where circumstances
are peculiarly favourable to the carp; instead of
being shy and cautious, like those which are not
pee with an artificial supply of food, the carp

ecomes bold and familiar; and besides, the species
kept in these ponds (the Spicgel, or Mirror-carp) dif-
fers from the kind found in England. It has beautiful
blue-mottled scales, and is altogether superior for the
purpose of artificial breeding. M. Boccius has intro-
duced this species into the fish-ponds of Sir Robert
Adair, in Norfolk.

The carp is in season from October to April. Those
which are more than twenty years old are “ hideously
coarse,” according to the account of M. Boccius, and
are fit only for breeding. Carp are prolific in propor-
tion to their age. One weighing ten pounds is in
perfection for thetable. Mr. Yarrell is of opinion that
carp is much indebted to cooks for the estimation in
which it is held; and the recipe given by Izaak Walton
for’ cooking this fish confirms the opinion. Sweet
marjoram, thyme, parsley, rosemary, and savory, are
to be put to “ your carp,” with four or five whole onions,
a score of pickled oysters, and two or three anchovies ;
and he is to be covered with clarct, seasoned with salt,
cloves, mace, and the rinds of oranges and lemons, and,
when done, is to be served with the yolks of two or
three eggs, and some of the herbs shred, also a
quarter of a pound of the best fresh butter melted,
beaten up with two or three spoonfuls of the broth,
the dish to be garnished with lemons. But first catch

our carp. “You must,” says Walton, “use a ve
arge measure of patience to fish for a river carp:
have known a very good fisher angle diligently for
five or six hours in a day, for three or four days toge-
ther, and not have a bite.” Theangler can scarcely be
at his pursuit too early in the morning or too late at
night. ‘Some have been so curious as to say the
tenth of April is a fatal day for carps:” this is a singu-
lar pees of Walton's credulousness, and of that
simplicity which, united with a love of and a keen
insight into the beauties of nature, constitutes one of
the charms of his work on angling.

The day has gone by in England when the breeding
of fish in stews and ponds could be of any national
importance. The Franklin, in Chaucer’s time, had
“many a luce in stew ;” and before the Reformation
it was of importance that the abbeys and manor-houses
throughout the realm should have their fish-ponds for
Oe them with a dish on fast-days. Such a
source of supply for fish has long ceased to be the
only one on which it was necessary even for the mid-
land parts of England to depend. Birmingham is
about as far from the coast as any town in England,
and yet it is supplied with fish caught on three dif-
ferent coasts—the southern, eastern, and western; and
at times with fresh cod-fish taken in the Atlantic, off
the north-west coast of Ireland, which is brought
quickly to the place of consumption by steam-boats
and railways. The case is very different in the most
central parts of Europe, and there an acre of fish-pond
may be as profitable as an acre of wheat; and the
inanagement of these stews is a branch of rural eco-
nomy of some importance. The carp is the most
valuable of all fresh-water fish for stocking ponds,
and indeed it is necessary to place along with them
ten per cent. of jack to keep down their numbers.

MAGAZINE. [JuLy 9,
When properly fed and attended to, carp never fail to
thrive in suitable ponds; but the ponds must not be
suffered to remain in the neglected state in which the
are generally to be seen in this country. The depth
of the ponds should be from three to five feet, with
shelving sides; they should not either be surrounded
with trees or liable to be suddenly flushed by a large
supply of fresh water; the soil must not be of a cold
clayey nature; and if the ponds reccive the drainage
of a farm ora village, the supply of food for the fish
will be all the greater. M. Boccius, in recommending
the formation of fish-ponds, says that trial should be
made with three, of the respective dimensions of three,
four, and five acres, each to be stocked annually in
succession, after which each will furnish an annual
supply of fish in rotation. The best proportion of
stock per acre is two hundred brood carp, twenty
brood tench, and twenty brood jack. After the first
three years, the yearly produce from three acres will
be six hundred carp at threc and a-half pounds, sixty
tench at four and a-half pounds, and sixty jack at three
and a-half pounds; making two thousand five hundred
and fifty pounds. Carp in fish-ponds, when constantly
fed, become so tame as to take food out of the keeper's
hands. At Charlottenberg, a seat of the king of
Prussia, the carp are summoncd to feed by a bell.

The gold carp is the species kept in glass bowls in
rooms, and was introduced into this country, about the
end of the seventeenth century, from China, where
they are kept in houses ina similar manner. Their
lively and graceful movements and beautiful hues
render them very pleasing objecis. The species has
become naturalized in this country, and breeds in
ponds which are warm and sheltered, especially in
those where the temperature is raised by the discharge
of warm water from steam-engines. They abound
also in many of the streams in Portugal, from whence
they are brought for sale to England. When young
they are of a dark and almost black colour, the golden
red hue appearing as they become older.

HAMBURGH.—THE GREAT FIRE.

_On Thursday, the 5th May, 1842, about one o’clock in

the morning, a fire broke out in a narrow and obscure
street of Hamburgh, called the Dcich Strasse. The
watch were quickly on the spot, but did not succeed in
stopping the progress of the flames. In the upper part
of the house in which the fire originated a quantity of
rags were stored, and although at the time when it
burst forth there was little wind stirring, the combus-
tible nature of these materials and the large proportion
of timber used in the construction of the neighbouring
houses in that narrow street rendered them an easy
prey to the flames. Eight or nine hours after the
commencement of the fire, it was mentioned in distant
parts of the city, which the conflagration afterwards
reached, that a large fire was raging in the neighbour-
hood of the Deich Strasse ; but this news, detailed as
a part of the morning’s gossip, excited only that
general sentiment of regret which persons who are not
likely to be themselves sufferers are apt to entertain
on such occasions. The householder of Pall-Mall fears
not for himself when a fire occurs at Temple Bar, and

eta space as extensive as this was finally compre-
fended in the saine devastation at Hamburgh. This
indifference was soon changed into consternation as
accounts were successively circulated respecting the
extent of the fire; though still many who lived in
parts which were yet disfant from its ravages felt
themselves secure; and sympathy for the loss of he
perty and the distresses of others was the only feeling
which these reports called forth. But the fire con-
tinued to rage wildly and fiercely, and at length there

= ——— ne ye es, ee, er as a

1842.]

was not an inhabitant of Hamburgh who did not
tremble with apprehension at its awful progress, as it
swept from street to street, across the canals and
market-places, enveloping churches, the public build-
ings of the city, warchouses with their stores of coffee,
sugar, tobacco, corn, and other merchandise, the lighter
in the canal ready to discharge its cargo, shops, dwell-
ing-houses, and all in one common ruin. The wind
had changed into a violent gale, and gave wings to the
burning embers which rose from the crackling timbers
as the roof-tree and crumbling walls yielded to the
fury of the conflagration. The following letter, writ-
ten by a young lady on the spot, gives so excellent a
gencral view of the procress of the fire, aud the cir-
cumstances which marked its successive stages, that
we are induced to transcribe it in preference to coin-

iling our account from a variety of sources. The
feticn is dated on the 9th of May :—

“On Thursday morning (says the writer), Ascension-
day, the 5th instant, my sister, her husband, and I
walked to the French church. Frederick, on taking
away the breakfast, told us that since eight or nine
o'clock a terrible fire had been raging In the Deich
Strasse. Papa, who knows the distance between the
Neuer Jungfernstieg and the Deich Strasse, will agree
that we had no cause for alarm. In coming out of
church the servant said to Madame Parish (who, you
are aware, lives in the country, and had come thence
this morning direct), that she could not go to her town
house in the carriage; that twenty-two houses had
already been totally burnt—that, in fact, hers was in
great danger, and that the fire was becoming more and
more formidable. <A few hours afterwards came the
news that the house of Mr. Parish was no more, and
that the flames were spreading every instant. To-
wards four o’clock in the afternoon, from our attic
windows, we witnessed the destruction of St. Nicholas’s
church. It was terrible to sce this beautiful building
become the prey of the element, which was becoming
more fearful the more ground it gained. My sister
and her husband were to have gone tothe Opera in
the evening, but it was announced that in consequence
of the calamity there would be no performance. The
spectacle became from hour to hour more shocking.

he whole city now began to show the most lively
alarm. The bells, the firing of cannon, the cries and
confusion in the streets, all presaged a night of anguish
and terror. Our apprehensions, alas! were but too
faithfully realized. It was not, however, till night had
spread her sad wings over the scene that we could
perceive the whole cxtent of the destruction which
menaced the entire city. The heavens became as red
as blood—the devouring flames, increased more and
more by an impetuous wind, rose to a gigantic height.
At seven o'clock Madame came to us in a wretched
state. She told us that her sisters at Holzdamm (who
were farther from the fire than we, the flames having
taken the direction of Dreck Wall and Bleichen) had
sent all their valuables to her, so great was the fear
they were in. We could hardly avoid smiling; for we
thought it incredible that the fire could possibly reach
Holzdamm. At ten, Madame went home, and
my sister retired te bed towards eleven, but afterwards
we received a visit from some gentlemen, who came
to say that serious measures were about to be taken,
by blowing up some houses which were likely to cause
the fire to spread farther. At half-past twelve, I went
to bed myself; but the noise of the explosions, the
rumbling of the carriages and carts, the cries, the
large flakes of fire which every instant were driven
impetuously by the wind across my windows, threaten-
ing to set fire to our house, the excessive light of the con-
flagration, the whistling of the wind, and, as you will
easily think, the idea that the lives of persons in whom

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

271

we were interested were in continual danger, not to
mention the conviction of the numberless misfortunes
that were happening, prevented all sleep. The windows
trembled with the redoubled concussions of the explo-
sions, and the whole house seemed as if it would be
annihilated. In such a state I could not close an eve ;
visions and dreams, but, above all, still sadder realities
a ridiaaa themselves to my imagination continually.

efore three o'clock had struck, J found myself again
with my sister, who, like me, had been kept awake by
the dreadful noise caused by the blowing up of the Rath-
haus. At this moment an order of the police was
announced to us to wet the roof of our house, and to
cause the water to flow in the gutters. Frederick had
flown tothe assistance of his brothers. We were there-
fore alone, and mounting on the roof, scarcely dressed,
were soon throwing over it pails of water, and our
neighbours were doing the same. We prepared our-
selves for the worst—threw on our clothes: the con-
fusion increased—we could not remain. We packed
up in sheets and in boxes some of our effects. With
the appearance of day our fears increased. It wasa
spectacle as sublime as it was fearful to view the sun,
clear and brilliant, rising in all its splendour over the
Lombard’s bridge, and on the city side to see nothing
buta single mass of flames. It was not, however, a
moment for contemplation, but for action; for the
worst was to come. We called for the coachman to
carry away the things we had packed; but how ridi-
culous to think we had any longer servants at our
disposal! The city, or the passengers, had become
masters of the coachimen, of my brother-in-law and his
mother, and nota man was to be got to carry away
our effects for love or money; our horses were har-
nessed to the fire-engines, and the greatest confusion
prevailed. Now succeeded hours which I cannot de-
scribe to you. The old Jungfernstieg began to be
endangered. The Alster, before our windows, was
covered with barges full of burning furniture ; the old
Jungfernstieg heaped also with goods on fire. On the
promenade even of the new Jungfernstieg, I do not
speak too largely when I say there were thousands of
cars full of furniture, of merchandise, and of people
who were saving themselves. Two carts were burning
before our house. With our own hands we hclped to
extinguish the flames. A woman was on fire before our
eyes ; fortunately I perceived it in time to save her.
The horses became unmanageable, and fell down with
fright almost into the Alster. A tremendous shower
of ashes and of flakes of fire nearly suffocated us, and
obstructed our sight. The wind blew with great violence,
and the dust was frightful. The fire had now gained
St. Peter’s. The people thought the Day of Judgment
was come. They wept, they screamed, they knew not
what to doat the sight of somuch misery. The horses,
without drivers, were dragging the carts about in dis-
order over the Esplanade. Soldiers escorted from the
city the dead and the dying, and prisoners who had
been plundering. At last, after the greatest efforts,
we obtained carts and horses to transport our goods;
but the exhausted horses, as well as men, refused to
work. With bread in our hands we ourselves fed
them. Whole families fell down and fainted before
our doors. Along all the walls and out of the Dam-
thor and other gates nothing was to be seen but one
spectacle of misery—a camp of unfortunates in bivouac,
groaning, exhausted, famishing. I saw some who had
become deranged, mothers with infants at breasts
which had no nourishment for them. Fauteuilles of
gold and satin adorned the ramparts, and the poor
exhausted firemen were reposing on them.”

The burning of the church of St. Nicholas is de-
scribed by various persons aS a magnificent spec-
tacle. It was four hundred feet long by one hun-

272 THE PENNY

dred and fifty broad, and the spire was four hundred
feet in height. The copper with which the spire was
covered became so intensely heated -as to ignite the
wood-work of the edifice. After burning some time,
the steeple fell grandly in. This was on the evening
of Thursday. About this time three Englishmen, re-
siding at Hamburgh, and engaged in the profession of
civil engineers, proposed to the senate to blow up some
of the houses in the vicinity of the fire, so as to create
a barrier to its progress; but while they deliberated
on this proposal, the conflagration seemed to gather
fresh strength. The three Englishmen at length
received the sanction of the Senate to use their best
endeavours to accomplish their purpose. Gunpowder
could not be procured for some time, but small quan-
tities were obtained from the stores of private indivi-
duals, and some of the houses nearest the fire were
blown up; but at first this process was conducted on
too small a scale to accomplish the effect intended.
The wind occasionally veered and changed the direction
of the fire, and burning flakes carried destruction into
fresh quarters. It was natural that the process of
wilfully destroying property by blowing up houses
not yet in flames should at first be conducted with too
much timidity ; but the scale of operations was sub-
sequently enlarged, when it became apparent that this
was the chief means by which the salety of the remainder
of the city could be effected. Many Englishmen re-
siding in Hamburgh, and the crews of one or two
Enghish ships, assisted their three countrymen in their
endeavours to arrest the fire ; and it was while thus
engaged that a few cases occurred in which they were
ill-treated by the mob, who, in the midst of such scenes
of horror, not unnaturally mistook them for a band of
incendiaries. Many persons took advantage of the
confusion and entered houses under the pretence of
removing property to a place of security, but in reality
to obtain plunder, or for the sake of intoxicating
liquors. Twelve of these unfortunate wretches were
subsequently found buried by rubbish in a wine-cellar.
The loss of life was otherwise comparatively trifling,
nut amounting to fifty altogether ; but so many persons
being suddenly deprived of the shelter and comforts of
home, and driven for safety to the open fields, added
to the mental shock occasioned by such disasters, would
doubUless hurry numbers prematurely to the grave.
Some died in the streets and highways while the fire
was raging. About mid-day on poe May 8th, the
fire exhausted itself on the eastern side of the large
shect of water called the Binnen Alster, leaving a
space of ground nearly a mile in length and in one
part about half'a mile wide covered with the smoulder-
ing ruins of houses, shops, warehouses, churches, and
ublic buildings. The Bank was destroyed, but
ortunately the treasure in money and bullion was
safely secured in fire-proof vaults. The churches of
St. Peter's and Gertrude, the Rath-haus, two prisons,
the orphan-nhouse, were also destroyed. The new
Exchange, although in the midst of the conflagration,
Was not injured. The number of streets and places
totally destroyed was forty-eight, comprising two
thousand houses, or one-fifth of the total number of
houses in the city. Thirty thousand persons were ren-
dered homeless. The reflection of the fire was seen by
the passengers on board a Swedish steam-boat in the
Baltic, and pieces of burning tapestry, paper, silk, &c.,
{cll at Lubeck, forty miles distant from Hamburgh.
Our readers in London may be able to form
an idea of the extent of the ruin by supposing that a
fire commenced at the east end of Lombard Street,
made its way through Cheapside, St. Paul’s Church-
yard, Ludgate Strect, Ludgate Hill, and Fleet Street
to Temple Bar, and over a space extending rather
more than a quarter of a mile northward from the

MAGAZINE. [Jury 9,
river, between the eastern and western extremities
of the above line. The Fire of London, an account of
which will be found in No. 91 of this work, lasted for
about the same period as that at Hamburgh, extending
from the Monument to Temple Bar, and raging over
an irregcular line from half a mile to two-thirds of a
mile northward of the river. In this space, com-
prising four hundred streets, lanes, and courts, there
was destroyed eighty-six parish churches, six chapels,
the cathedral church of St. Paul’s, thirteen thousand
and two hundred houses, the Guildhall, Royal Ex-
change, Custom-House, fifty-two of the halls of city
companics, and a number of other important edifices ;
three of the city gates, four stone bridges, and four
prisons, including Newgate. The total loss was esti-
mated at nearly eleven millions in the money of that
day. The loss at Hamburgh is estimated at about six
or seven millions stirling. London was then rather more
than four times larger than Hamburgh isnow. During
the progress of the fire of 1666, the mob, rendered stu-
peficd and desperate by the horrors which surrounded
them, seized upon all foreigners and English Catholics
in their fury and bewilderment; but they shed ‘no
blood. An insane Frenchman accused himself of
having been in a plot with two other poor Frenchmen,
and he stated that they had set fire to the first house;
but although the judges plainly intimated that no
reliance could be placed on his evidence, in conse-
quence of the state of his intellect, he was unhappily
executed. The nob at Hamburgh committed few ex-
cesses, though public order was for a time suspended.

Proper Time for cutting Hay and other Crops.~ The period at
which hay is cut, or corn reaped, materially affects the quantity
(by weight) aud quality of the produce. It iscommonly known
that when radishes are left too long in the ground they become
hard and woody—that the soft turnipy stem of the young cal.bage
undergoes a similar change as the plant grows old—and that the
artichoke becomes tough and uneatable if left too long uncut.
The same natural change goes on in the grasses which are cut
for hay. In the blades and stems of the young grasses there is
much sugar, which, as they grow up, is gradually changed, first
intu starch, and then into woody fibre. The more completely
the latter change is effected—that is, the riper the plant becomes,
the Jess sugar and starch, both soluble substances, they contain.
And though it has been ascertained that the woody fibre is not
wholly indigestible, but that the cow, for example, can appro-
}riate a portion of it for food as it passes through her stomach ;
yet the reader will readily imagine that those parts of the food
which dissolve most easily are also likely—other things being
equal—to be most nourishing to the enimal. Itis ascertained
also that the weight of hay or straw reaped is actually less when
allowed to become fully ripe; aud therefore, by cutting soon
after the plant has attained its greatest height, a larger quantity
as well asa better quality of hay will be obtained, while the
land also will be less exhausted. The same remarks apply to
crops of corn, both to the straw and to grain they yield. The
rawer the crop is cut, the heavier and more nourishing the straw.
Within three weeks of being fully ripe, the straw begins to
diminish in weight, and the longer it remains uncut after that
time the lighter it becomes and the less nourishing. On the
other hand, the ear, which is sweet and milky a month before it
is ripe, gradually consolidates, tne sugar changing into starch,
and the milk thickening into the gluten and albumen of the flour.
As soon as this change is nearly completed, or about a fortnight
before ripening, the grain contains the largest proportion of starch
and gluten; if reaped at this time, the bushel will be heavier,
and will yield the largest quantity of fine flour and the least bran.
At this period the grain has a thin skin, and hence the small
quantity of bran. But if the crop Le still left uncut, the next
natural step in the ripening process is to cover the grain with
a better protection, a thicker skin. A portion of the starch of
the grain is changed into woody fibre, precisely as in the ripen-
ing of hay, of the soft shoots of the dog-rose, and of the roots of
the common radish. By this change the quantity of starch is
lessened and the weight of husk increased; hence the diminished
yield of flour, aud the increased produce of bran."—Joknson’s
Elements of Agricultural Chemistry

1812.]
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THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 273

(John Shakspere’s House in Henley Street.—From a Drawing in the King's Library, Brit. Mus.)

BIRTH-PLACE OF SHAKSPERE.
(From ‘Shakspere: a Biography.’ By C. Knight.)

Tue parish of Stratford was unquestionably the birth-
lace of William Shakspere. But in what part of
tratford dwelt his parents in the year 1564? It was

ten years after this that his father became the pur-

chaser of two freehold houses in Henley Street—
houses which still exist. Nine years before William

Shakspere was born, his father had also purchased two

copyhold tenements in Stratford—one in Greenhill

Street, one in Henley Street. The copyhold house in

Henley Street, purchased in 1555, was unquestionab}

not one of the freehold houses in the same street pur-

chased in 1574: yet, from Malone’s loose way of
stating that in 1555 the /ease of a house in Henley

Street was assigned to John Shakspere, it has been

conjectured that he purchased in 1574 the house he

had occupied for many years.* Ashe purchased two

® It is marvellous that Malone, with the documents before
him, which are clearly the admissions of John Shakspere to two
copyhold estates, should say :—‘‘At the court-leet, held in
October, 1556, the lease of a house in Greenhill Street was assigned
to Mr. John Shakspeare, by George Turnor, who was one of the
burgesses of Stratford, and kept a tavern or victualling-house
there; and another, in Henley Street, was, on the same day,
assigned to him, by Edward West, a person of some considera-
tion, who during the reign of Edward VI. had been frequently
one of the wardens of the bridge of Stratford.” It is equally
wonderful that, Malone having printed the documents, no one
who writes about Shakspere has deduced from them that Shak-
spere’s father was necessarily a person of some substance before
his marriage, a purchaser of property. The roll says—* Et ide
Johes pd. in cur. fecit dfio fidelitatem p* eisdem,” that is, “ And
the said John in the aforesaid court did fealty to the lord for
the same.” Every one knows that this is the mode of admission
to a copyhold estate in fee simple, and yet Malone writes as if
these forms were gone through to enable Jobn sigue to
occupy two houses in two distinct streets, under lease, e sub-
join a translation of this entry upon the court-roll :—

“Stratford upon Avon. View of Frankpledge with the court
and session of the peace held of the same on the second day of
October in the year of the reign of Philip and Mary, by the
grace of God, &c., the third and fourth.

“Item, they present that George Turnor has alienated to
John Shakspere and his heirs one tenement with a garden and
croft, with their appurtenances, in Greenhill Street, held of the
lord, and delivered according to the roll, for the rent from thence
tu the lord of sixpence per annum, and suit of court, and the

No. 660,

houses in 1555 in different parts of the town, it is not
likely that he occupied both; he might not have occu-
ied either. Before he purchased the two houses in

enley Street, in 1574, he occupied fourteen acres
of meadow-land, with ap urtenances, ata very high
rent: the property is called Ingon meadow in “ he
Close Rolls.” Dugdale calls the place where it was
situated “ Inge ;” saying that it was a member of the
manor of Old Stratford, “and signifyeth in our old
English a meadow or low ground, the name well
agreeing with its situation.” It is about a mile and
a quarter from the town of Stratford, on the road to
Warwick. William Shakspere, then, might have been
born at either of his father’s copyhold houses, in
Greenhill Street, or in Henley Street ; he might have
been born at Ingon; or his father might have occupied
one of the two freehold houses in Henley Street at the
time of the birth of his eldest son. Tradition says
that William Shakspere was born in one of these
houses ; tradition points out the very room in which
he was born. Let us not disturb the belief. To look
upon that ancient house—perhaps now one of the
oldest in Stratford—pilgrims have come from every
region where the name of Shakspere is known. The
pepe hiosgici into a younger branch of the poet's
amily ; the descendants of that branch grew poorer
and poorer; they sold off its orchards and gardens;
they divided and subdivided it into smaller tenements ;
it became partly a butcher's shop, hae a little inn.
The external appearance was greatly altered, and its
humble front rendered still humbler. The windows
in the roof were removed; and the half which had
become the inn received a new brick casing. The
central portion is that which is now shown as the birth-
place of the illustrious man—“ the myriad-minded ”
—he whose memory almost hushes the breathings even
of the merely curious, who Jook upon that mean room,
with its massive joists and plastered walls, firm with
ribs of oak, where we are told the poet of the human
race was born. Hundreds amongst the hundreds of

said John in the aforesaid court did fealty to the lord for the

same.

“Item, that Edward West has alienated to him, the aforesaid
John Shakspere, one tenement, with a garden adjacent, in Henley
Street, for the reut from thence to the lord of sixpence per, annum,
and suit of court, and the said John in the aforesaid court did
fealty.”

Vou. XI.—2 N

20-4

thousands by whom that name is honoured have in-
scribed their names on the walls of that room. Eyes
now closed on the world, but who have left that behind
which the world “will not willingly let die,” have
glistened under this humble roof, and there have been
thoughts unutterable—solemn, confiding, grateful,
humble—clustering round their hearts in that hour.*
Disturb not the belief that William Shakspcre first
saw the Jight in this venerated room.

This old tenement, or rather the series of tenements
forming the property purchased by John Shakspere in
1574, ought to be bought by the Government, or by
some public society. The probability is that otherwise,
in a few years, they may be swept away, in the course
of modern improvement. Whether Shakspere were
born here, or not, there can be little doubt that this
property was the home of his boyhood. It was pur-
chased by John Shakspere from Edmund Hall and
Emma his wife, for forty pounds. Ina copy of the chiro-
graph of the fine levied on this occasion (which is now
in the possession of Mr. Wheler, of Stratford) the pro-
perty is described as two messuages, two gardens, and
two orchards with their appurtenances. This docu-
ment does not define the situation of the property,
beyond its being in Stratford-upon-Avon; but in the
deed of sale of another property, in 1591, that a hy
1s described as situate between the houses of Robert
Jobnson and John Shakspere ; and in 1597 John Shak-
spere himself sellsa “ toft, or parcel of land,” in Henley
Street, to the purchaser of the property in 1591. The
properiice can be traced, and leave no doubt of this

ouse in Henley Street being the residence of John
Shakspere. He retained the property during his life ;
and it descended, as his heir-at-law, to his son William.
In the last testament of the poet is this bequest to his
“sister Joan :”—*“I do will and devise unto her the
house, with the appurtenances, in Stratford, wherein
she dwelleth, for her natural life, under the yearly rent
of twelve-pence.” His sister Joan, whose name by
marriage was Hart, was residing there in 1639, and she
probably continued to reside there till her death in
1646. e one house in which Mrs. Hart resided was
doubtless the half of the building now forming the
butcher’s shop and the tenement adjoining; for the
other house was known as the Maidenhead Inn in 1642.
In another part of Shakspere’s will he bequeaths,
amongst the bulk of his property, to his eldest daughter,
Susanna Hall, with remainder to her male issue, “ two
messuages or tenements, with the appurtenances,
situate, lying, and being in Henley Street, within the
borough of Stratford.” There are existing settlements
of this very property in the family of Shakspere’s
eldest daughter and granddaughter; and this grand-
daughter, Elizabeth Nash, who was married a second
time to Sir John Barnard, left both houses, namely,
“the inn called the Maidenhead, and the adjoining
house and barn,” to her kinsmen Thomas and George
Hart, the grandsons of her grandfather’s “ sister Joan.”
These persons left descendants, with whom this pro-
perty remained until the beginning of the present
century. But it was gradually diminished. The
orchards and gardens were originally extensive: a
century ago tenements had been built upon them, and
they were alienated by the Hart then in possession.
lhe Maidenhead Inn became the Swan Inn, and is
now the Swan and Maidenhead. The White Lion, on
the other side of the property, extended his lair so as
to include the remaining orchards and gardens. The
house in which Mrs. Hart had lived so Jong became
divided into two tenements ; and at the end of the last
century the lower part of one was a butcher's shop,
which, according to the Aubrey tradition, some per-

* The autographs of Byrou and Scott are amongst hundreds
of perishable inscriptions,

TIE PENNY MAGAZINE.

[Jury 16,

sons belicved to have been the original shop where
John Shakspere pursued his calf-killing vocation with
the aid of his illustrious son. Mr. Wheler, in a very
interesting account of these premises, and their muta-
tions, published in 1824, tells us that the butcher-
occupant, some thirty years ago, having an cye to
every gainful attraction, wrote up,
“ WiILLtaAM SHAKSPEARE WAS BORN IN THIS House.
N.B.—A Horse AnD TAXED Cart To Let.”

It is not now uscd as a butcher’s shop, but there are
the arrangements for a butcher’s trade in the lower
room—the cross-beams with hooks, and the window-
board for joints. We are now told by a sign-board,

“THE IMMORTAL SHAKSPEARE WAS BORN IN THIS House.”

Twenty years ago, when we made our first pilgrimage
to Stratford, the house had gone out of the family of
the Harts, and the last alleged descendant was recently
ejected. It had been a gainful trade to her for some
ha to show the old kitchen behind the shop, and the
nonoured bedroom. When the poor old woman, the
last of the Harts, had to quit her vocation (she claimed
to have inherited some of the genius, if she had lost the
possessions, of her great anccstor, for she had produced
a marvellous poem on the Battle of Waterloo), she
set up a rival show-shop on the other side of the strect,
filled with all sorts of trumpery relics pretended to
have belonged toShakspere. But she was in ill odour.
In a fit of resentment, the day before she quitted the
ancient house, she whitewashed the walls of the bed-
room, so as to obliterate the pencil inscriptions with.
which they were covered. It has been the work of
her successor to remove the plaster; and manifold
names, obscure or renowned, again sec the light. The
house has a few ancient articles of furniture about it ;
but there is nothing which can be considered as
originally belonging to it as the home of William
Shakspere.

ERUPTION OF THE VOLCANO OF KILAUEA,
IN THE ISLAND OF HAWAII (OWHYEE)

(From the ‘ Report of the American Board of Forcign M issions.’}

On the 30th of May, 1840, the people of Puna
observed the appearance of smoke and fire in a moun-
tainous and desolate region in the interior of that
district. Thinking that the fire might be the burning
of some jungle, they took little notice of it until the
next day, when the meetings in the different villages
were iheown into confusion by sudden and grand
exhibitions of fire, on a scale so large and fearful as
to leave them no room to doubt the cause of the pheno-
menon. The fire augmented eee the day and
night; but it did not seem to flow off rapidly in any
direction. AJl were in consternation, as it was ex
ected that the molten flood would pour itself down
rom its height of four thousand feet to the coast, and
no onc knew to what point it would flow, or what
devastation would attend its fiery course. On Monday,
June Ist, the stream began to flow off ina north-easter
direction, and on the following Wednesday, June 3rd,
at evening, the burning river reached the sea, having
averaged about half a mile an hour in its progress.
The rapidity of the flow was very unequal, being
modified by the inequalities of the surface over which
the stream passed. Sometimes it is supposed to have
moved five miles an hour, and at other times, owing
to obstructions, making no apparent progress, except
in filling up deep valleys, and in swelling over or
breaking away hills and precipices.

But I will return to the source of the irruption.
This is in a forest, and in the bottom of an ancient
wooded crater, about four hundred fect deep, and
probably eight miles east from Kilauca. The region

1842.}

being uninhabited and covered with a thicket, it
was some time before the place was discovered, and
up to this time, though several foreigners have
attempted it, no one except myself has reached the
spot. From Kilauea to this place the lava flows ina
subterranean gallery, probably at the depth of a
thousand feet, but its course can be distinctly traced
all the way, by the rending of the crust of the earth
into innumerable fissures, and by the emission of
smoke, steam, and gases. The eruption in this old
crater is small, and from this place the stream dis-
appears again for the distance of a mile or two, when
the lava again gushes up and spreads over an area of
about fifty acres. Again it passes underground for
two or three miles, when it reappears in another old
wooded crater, consuming the forest, and partly filling
up the basin. Once more it disappears, and flowing
in a subterranean channel, cracks and breaks the earth,
opening fissures from six inches to ten or twelve feet
in width, and sometimes splitting the trunk of a tree
so exactly that its legs stand astride at the fissure. At
some places it is impossible to trace the subterrancan
stream, on account of the impenetrable thicket under
which it passes. After flowing underground several
miles, perhaps six or eight, it again broke out like an
overwhelming flood, and sweeping forest, hamlet,
plantation, and everything before it, rolled down with
resistless energy to the sea, where leaping a precipice
of forty or fifty feet, it poured itself in one vast cataract
of fire into the decp below, with loud dctonations,
fearful hissings, and a thousand uncarthly and inde-
scribable sounds. Imagine to yourself a river of fused
minerals, of the breadth and depth of the Niagara, and
of adeep gory red, falling, in one emblazoned sheet,
one raging torrent, into the ocean! ‘The scene, as
described by eye-witnesses, was terribly sublime.
Two mighty agencies in collision! Two antagonist
and gigantic forces in contact, and producing effects
on a scale inconceivably grand! The atmosphere in
all directions was filled with ashes, spray, gases, &c. ;
while the burning lava, as it tell into the water, was
shivered into millions of minute particles, and, being
thrown back into the air, fell in showers of sand on all
the surrounding country. The coast was extended into
the sca for a quarter of a mile, anda eae! sand-beach
and anew cape were formed. Three hills of scoria and
sand were also formed in the sea, the lowest about two
hundred feet, and the highest about three hundred.
For three weeks this terrific river disgorged itself
into the sea with little abatement. Multitudes of fish
were killed, and the waters of the ocean were heated
for twenty miles along the coast. The breadth of the
stream where it fell into the sea is about half a iile,
but inland it varies from one to four or five miles in
width, conforming itself, like a river, to the face of
the country over which it flowed. Indeed, if you can
imagine the
the consistency of fused iron, and moving onward,
sometimes rapidly, sometimes sluggishly, now widen-
ing into a sea, and anon rushing through a narrow
defile, winding its way through mighty forests and
ancient solitudes, you will get some idea of the spectacle
here exhibited. The depth of the stream will probably
vary from ten to two hundred feet, according to the
inequalities of the surface over which it passed.
During the flow, night was converted into ay on ail
eastern Hawaii. The light rose and spreaa like the
morning upon the mountains, and its glare was seen
on the opposite side of the island. It was also distinctly
visible for more than one hundred miles at sea; and
at the distance of forty miles fine print could be read
at midnight. The brilliancy of the light was like a
blazing firmament, and the scene is said to have been
one of unrivalled sublimity.

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

Mississippi converted into liquid fire of

275

The whole course of the stream from Kilauea to the
sea is about forty miles. Its mouth is about twenty-
five miles from Hilo station. The ground over which
it flowed descends at the rate of one hundred feet to
the mile. ‘The crust is now cooled, and may be tra-
versed with care, though scalding steam, pungent
gases, and smoke are still emitted in many places.

In pursuing my way for nearly two days over this
mighty smouldering mass, I was more and more im-

ressed at every step with the wonderful scene. Hills
lad been melted down like wax; ravines and deep
valleys had been filled; and majestic forests had dis-
appeared like a feather in the flames. Jp some
places the molten stream parted and flowed in@parate
channels for a considerable distance, and then re-
uniting, formed islands of various sizes, from one to
fifty acres, with trees still standing, but seared and
blighted by the intense heat. On the outer edges of
the lava, where the stream was more shallow and the
heat less vehement, and where of course the liquid
mass cooled soonest, the trees were mowed down like
grass before the scythe, and left charred, crisped,
smouldering, and only half consumed.

As the lava flowed around the trunks of large trees on
the outskirts of the stream, the melted mass stiffened
and consolidated before the trunk was consuined ; and
when this was effected, the top of the tree fell, and
lay unconsumed on the crust, while the hole which
marked the place of the trunk remains almost as
smooth and perfect as the caliber of a cannon. These
holes are innumerable, and I found them to measure
from ten to forty feet deep; but, as I remarked before,
they are in the more shallow parts of the lava, the
trees being entirely consumed where it was deeper.
During the flow of this eruption, the great crater of
Kilauea sunk about three hundred feet, and her fires
became nearly extinct, one lake only out of manu
being left active in this mighty caldron. This, with
other facts which have been named, demonstrates that
the eruption was the disgorgement of the fires of
Kilauea. The open lake in the old crater is at present
intensely active, and the fires are increasing, as is
evident from the glare visible at our station and from
the testimony of visitors.

During the early part of the cruption, slight and
repeated shocks of earthquake were felt, for several
successive days, near the scene of action. These shocks
were not noticed at Ffilo.

I will just remark here, that while the stream was
flowing, it might be approached within a few yards on
the windward side, while at the leeward no one could
live within the distance of many miles, on account of
the smoke, the impregnation of the atmosphere with
pungent and deadly gases, and the fiery showers which
were constantly descending, and destroying all vege-
table life. During the progress of the descending
stream, it would often fall into some fissure, and forcing
itself into apertures and under massy rocks, and even
hillocks and extended plats of ground, and lifting them
from their ancient beds, bear them with all their super-

incumbent mass of soil, trees, &c., on its viscous and

livid bosom, like a raft on the water. When the fused
mass was sluggish, it had a gory appearance like
clotted blood, and when it was active it resembled
fresh and clotted blood mingled and thrown into
violent agitation. Sometimes the flowing lava would
find a subterrancan gallery diverging at right angles
from the main channel, and pressing into it would how
off unobserved, till mecting with some obstruction in
its dark passage, when by its expansive force it would
raise the crust of the earth into a dome-like hill of
fifteen or twenty feet in height, and then bursting this
shell, pour itself out ina fiery torrent around. A man
who was standing at a considerable Tee from the
2

276

main stream, and intensely gazing on the absorbing
scene before him, found himself suddenly raised to the
height of ten or fifteen feet above the common level
around him, and he had but just time to escape a
where

his dangerous position, when the earth opene
he had stood, and a stream of fire gushed out.

No lives were lost, and but little property was
destroyed, as the stream of lava chiefly passed over an

almost uninhabited desert.

Wood Rafts.—The quantity of wood that is brought down by
this shadfew little river Enz is immense, and must be seen to be
believed. They raise the water by little sluices until it is high
enough to float the trees; which are first peeled, and then tied
together with a sort of rope made of small fir-trees, which is
rt of the forest. The smallest trees
e the raft narrower in front; three men
with Jong leather boots much above their knees stand upon the
les guide it : they are up to their
ankles in water, their extra clothes hang upon a rail on the raft,
and so they go down to the Rhine, shooting every fall, turning
every angle with the greatest ease, until they come up with the
Some of the trees are sixty feet
long ; I measured one eighty; and we have counted eighteen of
When they wish to stop it, they run one of the
middle lengths against the bank, and they soon become a van-
dyke. They go with great rapidity. The fire-wood, which is

quite a trade in the upper
are placed first, to m

fore-part, and with their long

great monsters on that river.

these lengths.

split and cut into lengths of three feet, goes down in part of itself,

as if it knew its own business, and, like a good and faithful
servant, would perform it. But the idle and dilatory stop on
the way ; these attract others, (it is wonderful how catching idle-
hess is,) until at last the river is fringed with them the whole

way. After leaving them many days to their own cogitations,

men come with large poles and sharp hooks, and soon send them
down after their brethren.—Lady Vavasour's Last Tour and First

Work.

Indian Fortress.——We did not reach the rock until the after-
noon of the next day, and upon my arrival I found that a good

house at its foot, in which some of the Rajah's family usual]
resided, had been emptied for my reception.
Rajah up the stairs, or rather steps, to the upper room, where one
of his attendants immediately presented me with a plate of small,
thin, fancifully stamped pieces of gold, made from the gold-dust
collected on the banks of the Indus and other rivers in the
country, and another plateful of similar silver pieces, which I
showered down from the balcony upon the crowd below. After
that was exhausted, we threw down several bits of cloth for
turbans, &c., and we all laughed heartily at the furious vocifera-
tions and scrambling that took place, even before they had
descended. The Indus was visible from my window, and I
then turned to enjoy the view of it for the frst time. It ap-
proached through a sandy plain, from the eastern end of the
valley, and here, nine miles from the entrance, it washed the
end of the rock within musket-shot of me, in a noble stream of
more than one hundred and fifty yards in width. The rock, or
killah, at it is called, is about two miles in length, and the

over the east end rises about eight hundred feet above the river.
The whole of this superb natural fortress, situated in the middle
of the valley of Sakardo, which is nineteen miles long and seven
in width, rises witn, in most places, mural sides, from a buttress
of sand, louse stones, and broken rocks, excepting at the western
end, where it slopes, but steeply, on to the plain; and on the
east and north it is washed by the deep and rapid torrent of the
"mighty Indus. The Gylfo’s castle is built upon a small flat
about three hundred feet above the river. A wooden mosque
and state prison form part of the building. The castle itself is
of stone, with wooden framework, and is strongly fortified
against musketry. The zigzag by which it is approached is
aleo divided by gateways and wooden towers. Defences of the
same kind are built on different parts of the rock. There isa
look-out house on a peak a little above the castle, and another
on the summit above that. In my humble judgment it could be
made as strong a place as Gibraltar, which, in general configura-
tion, it would much resemble, were the east and west end of the
killah to change places.— Travels in Kashmir, Ladakh, Iskarilo
Se., by G. T. Vigne.

THE PENNY

I followed the

MAGAZINE. [Jury 16,

BREAKWATERS.

In an article on the Plymouth Breakwater, in No. G48,
we mentioned that other plans were offered in compe-
tition with that of Messrs. Rennie and Whidbey ; two
of these were by the late Sir Samuel Bentham, Inspec-
tor-General of Naval Works: but we are induced to
recur to the subject in order to notice the fact that that
gentleman also produced a third plan, namely, a float-
ing breakwater, the principle of which is therefore not
so recent as might be inferred from the remarks at the
conclusion of the above-named article on Captain Tay-
lor’s breakwater. Sir Samuel Bentham’s plan is con-
tained in a minute on the ioe sed Plymouth break-
water, addressed by him to the Navy Board, September
24, 1811, and printed among the Parliamentary papers
of that year: we extract as much as relates to the sub-
ject of the floating breakwater.

Sir Samuel says :—* I should propose to make float-
ing breakwaters in separate parts, or floats of wood in
preference, because that material is sufficiently de al
without the need for de de any cavities, which
might be liable to be filled with water; to make these
floats of a triangular, or rather prismatic form, and to
hold them in their places by means of iron chains.

“Breakwaters such as these would not only leave
the whole of the waterway uninterrupted below them,
but would also allow a‘ great part of the tide to pass
through them: they might therefore be extended all
across the entrance, so as to afford their protection to
the whole of the Sound within it, leaving only in certain
parts sufficient intervals between the rows of floats,
as well as the contiguous floats, to allow of ships
shaping their course between them; more especially
since in the event of a ship striking against, or even
running over one of these breakwaters, it would not be
likely that such an accident would occasion any mate-
rial injury to the ship, any more than to the breakwater.

“A further advantage of these breakwaters, which
must be considered of no small importance, is, that no
mischief whatever can be conceived likely to arise to
any harbour from the A et beer of them ; they may
be tried in different parts of the harbour till experience
shall have pointed out the most advantageous situation
for them, or they might be entirely taken away, and be
employed elsewhere, whenever circumstances might
render it desirable. I have also to observe, that this

roposal of mine is not founded on theory alone, since
Thave seen breakwaters constructed on the same prin-
ciple, though not in the same manner, in a foreign
port, where their good effect was fully exemplified, and
indeed I have on one occasion caused one on a small
scale to be employed with good effect at Sheerness.”

We add Sir Samuel's estimate for a breakwater at
Plymouth of wood :—

“One Float 30 feet in breadth and
depth, 60 feet in length, payed over
with oil of tar and other cheap

oil . ‘ ; : ‘ . £970
Four mooring-chains and fastenings 430
Laying down the moorings of one float 100
£1,500
117 Floats as above. 7 , - £175,500
Preparations and other contingencies on
ditto, at 15 per cent. ; : e =: 26,325
Grand Total £201,825”

1542.]

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

{Burnham Beeches.]}

RAILWAY RAMBLES.
BURNHAM BEECHES.

Wirnin five and twenty miles of Saint Paul’s, the
Great Western Railway will place us in an hour,
(having an additional walk of about two miles) in the
heart of one of the most secluded districts in England.
We know nothing of forest scenery equal to Burnham
Beeches. There are no spots approaching to it in
wild grandeur to be found in Windsor Forest ; Sher-
wood, we have been told, has trees as ancient, but few
so entirely untouched in modern times. When at the
village of Burnham, which is about a mile and a half
from the railway station at Maidenhead, the beeches
may be reached by several roads, each very beautiful
in its seclusion. e ascend a hill, and find a sort of
table-land forming arude common with a few scattered
houses. Gradually the common grows less open. We
see large masses of wood in clumps, and now and
then a gigantic tree close by the road. The trunks of
these scattered trees are of amazing size. They are
for the most part pollards; but not having been 4
for very many years, they have thrown out mighty
arms, which give us a notion of some deformed son of
Anak, noble as well as fearfulin his grotesque pro-
portions. As we advance the wood thickens; and as
the road leads us intoa deep dell, we are at length
completely embosomed in a leafy wilderness. is
dell is a most romantic spot. It extends for some
quarter of a mile between overhanging banks covered
with the graceful forms of the ash and the birch;
while the contorted beeches show their fantastic roots
and unwieldy trunks upon the edge of the glen, in
singular contrast. If we walk up this valley we may
emerge into the plain of beeches from which the place
derives its name, It is not easy to make scenes such

as these interesting in description. The great charm
of this spot may be readily conceived when it is known
that its characteristic is an entire absence of human
care. The property has been carefully preserved in
its ancient state, and the axe of the woodman for many
a day has not been heard within its precincts. The
sheep wander through the tender ay as if they were
the rightful lords of the domain. We asked a solitary
old man who was sitting ona stump, whether there
was any account who planted this ancient wood:
“Planted!” he replied; “it was never planted: those
trees are as old as the world.” However sceptical
we zien be as to the poor man’s Sano On we were
sure that history or tradition could tell little about
their planting.

The road through Burnham Becches conducts to
Dropmore, the residence of the late estimable Lord
Grenville. Here, retired from statesmanship, this
tasteful nobleman in a few years covered a barren
common with luxuriant woodlands and exquisite gar-
dens. We are thus, at Dropmore, able to see what
art and industry can do rapidly; whilst in Burnham
Beeches we behold the majesty of unassisted nature,
in its slow and silent working. A short walk leads to
Dropmore, which is shown to all persons applying for

ermission to see it. We shall describe it in a future
umber.

’ SWANS AND SWAN-UPPING.

In England the Swan is said. to be a bird royal, in
which no subject can have property, when at large in
a public river or creek, except by grant from the
crown. In creating this privilege the crown grants
a swan-mark (cygninota), for a game of swans, called
in law Latin deductus (a pastime, un déduit) cygnorum,

278

sometimes volatus cygnorum. (7 Coke’s ‘Rep.,’ 17.)
In the reign of Elizabeth, upwards of nine hundred
corporations ard individuals had their distinct swan-
inarks, one of which we give from Yarrell’s ‘ British
Birds,’ vol. iii., 121, &c. It is the royal swan-mark
used in the three last reigns and the present, from the
cut given by Mr. Yarrell, in whose interesting ‘ British
Birds’ much curious information on this subject, toge-
ther with no less than sixteen swan-marks, will be

found.
| <>

Sometimes, though rarely, the crown, instead of
granting a swan-mark, confers the still greater privi-
lege of enjoying the prerogative right (within a certain
district) of seizing white swans not marked. Thus the
abbot of Abbotsbury in Dorsetshire had a game of wild
swans inthe estuary formed by the Isle of Portland and
the Chesil Bank. ‘The swannery at Abbotsbury is the
largest in‘the kingdom, which, though formerly consi-
derably more extensive, still numbers many hundreds of
these birds, forming an object of considerable attraction
and interest to those who visit this part of the south
coast: it is now vested in the earl of Ilchester, to whose
ancestor it was granted on the dissolution of the monas-
teres.

The privilege of having a swan-mark, or game of
swans, is a freehold of inheritance, and may be granted
over. But by 22 Edw. IV., c. 6, no person, other than
the king’s sons, shall have a swan-mark, or game of
swans, unless he has frechold lands or tenements of the
clear yearly value of five marks (3/. 6s. 8d.), on pain
of forfeiture of the swans, one moiety to the king, and
the other to any qualified person who inakes the seizure.
In the first year of Richard III. the inhabitants of
Crowland in Lincolnshire were exempted from the
operation of this act upon their petition setting forth
that their town stood “all in marsh and fen,” and that
they had great games of swans, “ by which the greatest
part of their relief and living had been sustained.”

The city of Oxford has a game of swans by prescrip-
tion, though none are now kept. In the sixteenth
century (when a state dinner was not complete unless
aswan were included in the bill of fare) this game of
swans was rented upon an engagement to dcliver
yearly four fat swans, and to leave six old swans at the
end of the term. By the corporation books it also
appears that in 1557 barley was provided for the young
birds at fourteen pence a bushel, and that tithes were
then paid of swans.

Two of the London Companies have games of swans,
the Dyers’ and the Vintners’ Company, and are, with
the crown, the principal owners of swans in the Thames.
In August, 1441, the queen had two hundred and
thirty-two, the Dyers one hundred and five, and the
Vintners one hundred swans in the river. Former]
the Vintners alone had five hundred. The swan-mar
of the Dyers’ Company is a notch, called a ‘nick,’ on
one side of the beak. The swans of the Vintners’ Com-

any, being notched or nicked on each side of the

eak, are jocularly called ‘swans with two necks,’ a
term which has been long used as a sign by one of the
large inns in London.

On the first Monday in August in every year the
swan-mnarkers of the crown and the two Companies of
the city of London go up the river for the purpose of
inspecting and taking an account of the swans belong-
ing to their respective employers, and marking the
young birds, In antient documents this annual expe-

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

[Jury 16,

dition is called swan-upping, and the persons employed
are denominated swan-uppers. These are still the
designations uscd among the initiated, though popularly
corrupted into swan-hopping and swan-hoppers.

The swan-markers aes to the different parts of
the river frequented by the swans for breeding, and
other places where the birds are kept. They pay half-
a-crown for cach young bird to the tishermen who have
made nests for the old birds, and two shillings per
week to any person who during the winter has taken
care of the swans by sheltering them in ponds or other-
wise protecting them from the severity of the weather.

Where, as it sometimes happens, the cob bird (male)
of one owner mates with a pen bird (female) belong-
ing to another, the brood are divided between the
owners of the parent birds, the odd cygnet (except in
Buckinghamshire) being allotted to the owner of the
cob.

The young or brown birds, being marked with the
marks of their respective owners and pinioned, are put
into the river, as are also the white or old swans after
the completing of the pinioning of such of them as, on
account of their weakness, had in their first year been
deprived of one joint only of the wing. If any white
swans are found by the king’s marker in an open and
common river or creek, he scizes them, and the crown
mark is put upon them. But swans kept im private
waters need not be marked. A subject who has white
swans not marked in his private waters may retake
them upon fresh pursuit, if they escape therefrom into
an open and common river; though it is otherwise if
they have gained their natural liberty, and are swim-
ming in open rivers without such pursuit.

The king had formerly a swanherd not only on the
Thames, but in several other parts of the kingdom.
We find persons exercising the office of “ master of the
king’s swans ” (sometimes called the swanship,) within
the counties of Huntingdon, Cambridge, Northampton,
and Lincoln, and at the saine time the office of “ super-
visor and approver” of all swans being within any
mere or water of the first three counties.

Antiently the crown had an extensive swannery
annexed to the royal palace or manor of Clarendon in
Wiltshire. It had also a swanncry in the Isle of Pur-
beck, and by an entry in the council-book of 16th
March, 1635, now at the Privy-Council Office, it
appears that the mhabitants complained that their
means of maintaining their families by furnishing the
country with swans were lessened by “common shooters
in guns.’

Stealing swans marked and pinioned, or unmarked,
if kept in a mote, pond, or private river, and reduced
to tameness, is felony. Stealing swans not so marked
or so kept, or so pursued, is merely a trespass or mis-
deincanour.

The law is said to have formerly been, that when a
swan is stolen in an open and common river, lawtully
marked, “the same swan (if it may be) or another swan
shall be hung in a house by the beak, and he who
stole it shall, in recompense thereof, be obliged to give
the owner so much wheat that may cover all the swan
by putting and turning the wheat on the head of the
swan, until the head of the swan be covered with the
wheat.’

Under the 11 Henry VII., c. 17, stealing the eggs
of swans out of their nests was punished by imprison-
ment for a year, and a fine at the king’s pleasure.
But this enactment was superseded by the 1 Jac. I.. c.
27, 8. 2, which declares that every person taking eggs
of swans out of their nests, or wilfully breaking or
spoiling them, inay upon conviction before two justices
be committed to gaol for three months, unless he pay
to the churchwardens for the use of the poor twenty
shillings for every egg; or, after one month of his

1812.)

commitment, become bound, with two sureties in
twenty pounds a-piece, never to offend again in like
manner.

The 2 Henry IV., c. 21, which directs that no lord
shall give any livery or sign to any knicht, esquire, or
ycoman, contains a proviso, that the prince may give
his honourable livery of the Swan to his lords, and to
gentlemen his menials.—Slightly abridged from the
* Penny Cyclopedia.’ :

CHIFFONNIERS OF PARIS.

Tne extension of industry during the last thirt

years has added to the dignity of this profession, which
is alike followed by men, women, and children. It
requires no apprenticeship, no previous course of
study, no expensive outfit: a large and compactly-
shaped basket, a stick with a hook at the end of it, and
a lantern, are the entire stock-in-trade of this sincular
species of labourers. The men gain, on an average,
and according to the season of the year, from twenty-
five to forty sous a day: but to do this they are
obliged to make three rounds, two by day and one
during the night; their labour commencing at five in
the morning and ending at midnight. Between their
rounds they cxamine and sort the cargoes which the

bring in, and which they term their merchandize ; aad
having done so, go and sell the arranged treasures to
the master or managing chiffonnier: for, like all other
professions, this has its gradations of ranks, the higher
of which are only reached after long periods of subor-
dinate labour. any of these chiefs keep furnished
lodgings, which they let out exclusively to thosc am-
bulatory chiffonniers who have no fixed residence;
reserving to their own use the ground-floor as a ma-
gazine for their wares. The important operation of
sorting his booty, if the chiffonnier is one of the better
class, and desirous of a healthy lodging, is performed
cither in a separate room hired for the purpose, or,
when the weather will permit, in the open air; but
the far greater number possess only a single room, and
in this, surrounded and assisted by their children, they
spread out, examine, and sort the filthy produce of
each journey. The floor is covered with rags, frag-
nents of animal substances, glass, paper, and a thou-
sand other things, some whole, some broken, and all
begrimed with dirt; whilst the several selections fill
all the corners of the room, and are heaped up under
tlie bed. The stranger who enters is almost suffocated
by the stench, which is rendered still more offensive
by one, and sometimes two large dogs, which form
part of the domestic establishment of most chiffonniers,
and which they take out with them in their nocturnal
rounds. It is matter of astonishment that habit should
enable these people to endure with impunity the
putrid exhalations amidst which they live. The hotte
of the chiffonnier is not merely the receptacle of his
merchandize, it is also his market-basket: among all
the filthy trash which he collects, he takes care not to
neglect the luxuries of his table—vegetables for his
soup, pieces of bread, half-rotten fruit, everything
which he conceives to be eatable. It is not un-
amusing to watch the sorting of all this, and to listen
to the professional talk which seasons the operation
when the sorter is in good temper, as he generally is,
if his baskct has been well filled and you address him
with civility. Squatting down before it, he will show
you, with a smile of exultation, a large beef-bone—a
perfect beauty—and other articles of equal worth;
and as he arranges his several heaps on the pavement,
he will tell you “that competition kills trade—that
cuoks have become dead to all sense of humanity,

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

279

that they now make moncy of everything, bones and
broken glass especially!” These ragamuftins have
their moments of good fortune and joy—it is when, in
breaking apart a mass of filth, they see glittering be-
fore their eyes a silver spoon or fork; and, thanks to
the carelessness of servants, these rich prizes are not
of rare occurrence. ‘The happy individual forthwith
procecds to the barrier with his friends, generally in
a hackney-coach, to celebrate the event by a copious
repast, the coachman, who anticipates the dirty state
of his cushions, being the only dissatisfied individual
of the party. The daily gain of the lady-chiffonniers
amounts to, perhaps, fifteen or twenty sous; that of
the children, to about ten. Many children, who run
away froin their parents at a very early age, take to this
trade as a means of subsistence. The life they lead is
almost savage: they are remarkable for the audacity
and harshness of their manners. Some become so
perfectly estranged, that they lose all recollection of
their father’s abode, nay, even of his name.

As with all other classes of operatives, the wine and
spirit shop is the constant resort of these rubbish-
hunters. To the aged chiffonniers, still more to the
aged females of the class, brandy has an_attrac-
tion which nothing else can equal. These women be-
lieve, and act upon the belief that spirituous liquors
afford the same nourishment as solid food: they con-
ceive that the artificial tone which results from the
use of them is genuine strength; and the error is
persisted in until the constitution is destroyed. No
ee that the rate of mortality in this class is so

igh.

“All the lower ranks&isplay a certain pride and os-
tentation in their expenditure at the cabaret, but the
chiffonniers more than any other. The ordinary sort
of wine will not suffice them; hot wine is their usual
luxury, and they are vastly indignant if the lemon and
sugar be not abundant. The cabaret-kcepers are
greatly scandalized by these extravagancies—that is
to say, when a difficulty occurs, as it frequently docs,
in making up the reckoning. The generous senti-
ments which animate the better class of operatives are
totally wanting among these people: shunned and
scorned by every one, they in return shun and hate all
their fellow-creatures ; they affect a cynic tone and
manner, and appear to pride themselves on proclaitn-
ing their degradation and their vice. A considerable
proportion of the men have passed through the hands
of justice; and many of the women are prostitutes of
the lowest order.—From the ‘ Quarterly Review,’ No.
139.

ANTIQUITY OF BENEFIT CLUBS.

Benerit Clubs, or Friendly Societies, may trace their
origin to the earliest period of the English history ; for
that those writers are mistaken who suppose that the
introduction of guilds or fraternities (which, possessing
a stronger tincture of religion, were in many other
respects similar to the modern clubs) was subscquent
to the Conquest is evident from several curious Saxon
deeds (now preserved in the Museum) which Dr.
Hicks has transcribed and inserted in his learned work
on Northern Literature.

There is an extraordinary coincidence between the
rude simplicity which pervades the ordinances of two
of the Saxon Guilds, and some of the modern Friendly
Socicties. It appears from wee curious deeds, that
Guilds were originally instituted by the mutual agree-
ment of friends and neighbours, and had no further
object than the relief of the brethren in times of distress,
and perhaps the protection of the associated members

280 THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

against the lawless attacks of powerful ‘neighbours.
Sume pious offices, however, were the never-failing
concomitants of these institutions. After the Conquest,
Guilds were established for the express promotion of
religion, charity, or trade; and it is from these frater-
nities, simple as they may originally have been, that
the various companies and city corporations in this
kingdom are derived. The rules of several of these
institutions are preserved. Among others, the following
ordinance of St. Catherine’s Guild at Coventry (founded
in the reign of Edward III.) is well deserving the
attention of village legislators :—Amongst other things
it is ordained, that if a member suffer from fire, water,
robbery, or other calamity, the Guild is to lend hiin a
sum of money without interest. If sick or infirm
through old age, he is to be supported by his guild
according to his condition. If a member falls into bad
courses, he is first to be admonished, and if found to
be incorrigible, he is to be expelled. Those who die
hes and cannot afford themselves burial, are to be

uried at the charge of the Guild. Lastly, the Chap-
is not to frequent common taverns or public-

ouses.

FEMALE FARMERS.

Tuat females are not disqualified from shining in
the most active and laborious sphercs of life, the
following interesting biographical sketch, which is
taken from Sir F. M. Eden's ‘ History of the Labour-
ing Classes in England,’ seems to aftord very satisfac-
tory evidence :—* Mrs. Sarah Spencer was the daughter
of a gentleman in Sussex, hér brother having once
been high sheriff of the county. But her family pos-
sessing only a competent landed estate, and being
neither engaged nor in circumstances to engage in
any lucrative profession, like too eae others in this
age of universal commerce, insensibly dwindled tu
nothing ; and though she had been well and genteelly
educated, and with such views as are common to
people in her sphere of life, yet on the demise of her
father she found her whole fortune did not amount
to quite 300/. Her sister Mary, a woman of perhaps
not inferior goodness of heart, though certainly of very
inferior abilities, was left in a similar predicament.

“Their persons, though not uncomely, were not so
attractive as to flatter them that without fortunes they
could marry advantageously ; anda mere clown was
not much more likely to be happy with them, than
they could have been with him. They either had no
relations on whom they would have been permitted
to quarter themselves, or they thought such a state
of dependence but a more specious kind of beggary.
Yet, living in an age and country in which well-edu-
cated women not born to fortunes are peculiarly for-
20rn, With no -habits of exertion, nor even of a rigid
frugality, they soon found that, thus unable to work
and ashamed to beg, they had no prospect but that of
pining to death in helpless and hopeless penury.

“Tt may be questioned, perhaps, whether even the
most resolute spirits have virtue enough to embrace
a lite of labour, til] driven to it by necessity; but it is
no ordinary effort of virtuc to submit to such a neces-
sity with a becoming dignity. This virtue these sisters
possessed : at a loss what else to do, they took a farm ;
and, without ceasing to be gentlewomen, commenced
farmers. This farm they carried on for many years,
much to their credit and advantage; and, as far as
example goes, in an instance where example is cer-
tainly of most effect, not less to the advantage of their
neighbourhood. To this day the marks of their good
husbandry are to be seen in the village of Rottington.

“ How is it to be accounted for, without reflecting

(Jury 16,

on both the good sense and the virtue of those persons in
the community whom a real patriot is much disposed
to respect, namely, the yeomanry and the peasantry of
our villages, it might not be easy to say; but the fact
is site pone that those who have been most distin-
guished for their endeavours to promote improvement
in agriculture have but rarely been popular characters.
This was the hard fate of the Spencers; who, instead
of gratitude, long experienced little else than discour-
tesies and opposition in the neighbourhood. The more
active of them was called Captain Sally; and her
sister, her Man Mary. With the gentry around them
this was not the case: by these they were visited and
respected as they deserved to be; and, not seldom in
one and the same day, have they divided their hours
in helping to fill the dung-cart, and receiving com-
pany of the highest rank and distinction. And it was

ard to say which of these offices they performed with
most intelligence and grace: for, as has been observed
of Virgil, he even handled the dungfork with an air
of elegance.

“To many of their poorer relations they were not
only kind, but useful. Towards the close of their
lives, even the most perverse of their neighbours saw
their error; and though they continued not to court
popularity, they at length became popular ; and when
they died, they were very sincerely regretted.”

The Gastric Juice.—Worms in the alimentary canal resist the
agency of the gastric juice so long as they are alive; but when
dead, they are then subjected to the Jaws which govern inani-
mate matter, and are, consequently, digested or expelled like
the ordinary contents. This fact affords a good reason for using
cold boiled water, as the high temperature to which it is raised
must kill the animalcules that may be found in this fluid, and
thus they are rendered easy of digestion. It is a remarkable
circumstance, first observed by Jolm Hunter, and referrible to
the same principle, that the gastric juice will, when the indivi-
dual dies, dissolve the very stomach that had secreted this pow-
erful solvent, and had resisted its action when living. The
knowledge of this fact was the means of acquitting an individual
accused of the crime of poisoning.—Hayden's Philosophy for the
Public.

Interruptions of Literary Labour.—-When Montesquieu was
deeply engaged in his great work, be wrote to a friend :—“ The
favour which your friend Mr. Hein often does to me to pass his
mornings with me, occasions great damage to my work, as well
by his impure Freuch as the length of his details.” “We are
afraid,” said some of those visitors to Baxter, “ that we break m
upon your time.” ‘To be sure you do,” replied the disturbed
and blunt scholar. To hint as gently as he could to his friends
that he was avaricious of time, one of the learned Italians had a
prominent inscription over the door of his study, intimating that
whoever remained there must join in his labours. The amiable
Melancthon, incapable of a harsh expression, when he received
these idle visits, only noted down the time he had expended,
that he might reanimate his industry, and not lose a day
Evelyn, continually importuned by morning visitors, or “taken
up by other impertinences of my life inthe country,” stole his
hours from his night-rest to “redeem his losses." The literary
character has been driven to the most inventive slufts to escape
the irruption of a formidable party at a single rush, who enter,
without “besieging or beseeching,” as Milton has it. The late
Ellis, a man of elegant tastes and poetical temperament, on one
of these occasions, at his country-house, assured a literary friend
that, when driven to the last, he usually made his escape by a
leap out of the window ; and Boileau has noticed a similar
dilemma when at the villa of the President Lamoiguon, while
they were holding their delightful conversations in his grounds,
Brand Hollis endeavoured to hold out “the idea of singularity
as a shield;” and the great Robert Boyle was compelled te
atlvertise ina newspaper that he must decline visits on certain
days, that he might have leisure to finish some of his works.—
D'fsrach on the Literary Character.

1842.}

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

281

(Hadley Church Tower and Beacon.)

BEACONS.

Hap ey, 80 called from its elevated situation (head
—_- a high place), is about 1) miles from London,
and a short distance eastward of the town of Chipping
Barnet. The parish was formerly a hamlet of Edmon-
ton. The church was erected during the fifteenth
century, and consists of a chancel, nave, two aisles,
and two transepts. There are several monuments of
the seventeenth century, the most remarkable one
being that in memory of Sir Roger Wilbraham, solici-
tor-general of Ireland in the reign of Queen Elizabeth,
and his lady, with marble busts of each by Stone; and
there is a mural brass of the fifteenth century. At the
west end there is a square tower of flint with stone
quoins, at the top of which is an iron beacon.
_ The Anglo-Saxon word beacen signifies a sign or
pe weg and the use of beacons was to alarm the interior
of the psig’ upon the approach of a foreign enemy.
These sort of fire-signals are of the highest antiquity,
and are mentioned in the prophecies of Jeremiah (ch. v1.,
ver. 1), who says :—“ Set up a sign of fire in Beth-hac-
_cerim, for evil a reth out of the north, and great
destruction.” schylus, who wrote his tragedies in
the fifth century before the Christian era, represents
the intelligence of the capture of Troy as being con-
veyed to the Peloponnesus by fire-beacons. They were
used during the Peloponnesian war (431 to 404 B.c.).
Pliny distinguishes this sort of signal from lighthouses
by the name of ‘Ignés prenuntiativi,’ or notice-giving
fires. At this day the natives of Australia light fires
as signals, which are repeated from one party to the
other, and in this way notice is communicated to a great
distance in a very short time.

Lord Coke, in his ‘ Fourth Institute,’ gives a descrip-

No. 661.

tion of our own beacons before the fourteenth century :
— Before the reign of Edward III.,” he says, “the
were but stacks of wood set up on high places, whic
were fired when the coming of enemies was descried ;
but in his reign pitch-boxes, as now they be, were,
instead of those stacks, set up; and this properly is a
beacon.” Stow, in his ‘ Annals,’ under the year 1326,
states that among the precautions which Edward II.
took to guard against the return of the queen and
Mortimer to England, “ he ordained bikenings or
beacons to be set up, that the same being fired might
be seen far off, and thereby the people to be raised.”
The power of erecting beacons was originally in the
king, and was usually delegated to the lord high
admiral. In the reign of Edward IJ. (1307—1327),
the sheriff of the county levied a sum upon each hun-
dred under the name of ‘beconagium,’ for the main-
tenance of beacons.

In the British Museum there are preserved charts
of the coast of Dorsetshire and Suffolk, showmg the
station of the various beacons at the time of the ex-
pected invasion of the Spanish Armada. Beacon hills
occur in some part or other of most of the counties of
England. In unsettled times watches were regularly
stationed at these spots, and horsemen called ‘hobbelars’
were stationed to give notice in the daytime of an
enemy’s approach, when the fire would not be seen.
Sir John Fenn, in a note to the ‘ Paston Letters,’ says
that these light horsemen, “by the tenure of their
lands, were obliged to maintain their nags, and were
expected to be in readiness, when sudden invasions
happened, to spread immediate intelligence of the same
throughout the country.” The guard at the sea-side
beacons was required to be larger than at the inland

Vou. XI.—2 O

282 THE PENNY

beacor.s, as it was often one of the first objects of an
invading party to surprise them, and so prevent the
alarm of their arrival being spread far and wide.
When the Armada was expected directions were issucd
that the beacons be provided with good matter and
stuff, as well for the sudden kindling of the fircs as
also for the continuance thereof. The blazing of: the
beacon-fires trom a hundred hills, rousing the stalwart
spirit of our forefathers in many a remote hamlet and
lonely moated grange, would be a moment of intense
interest. The inhabitants of a certain district assem-
bled at the particular beacon which by its lurid glare
amidst the darkness of night had summoned them from
their homes ; and in this way the gathering together of
an armed force would soon be effected; while, as all
pushed forward to some general point, their numbers
would swell into a large army. It is reported that
the last occasion of Hadley Beacon being used was in
1745, when it lighted the way for the household troops
on their progress northwards, immortalised by Ho-
garth in his exquisite ‘ March to Finchley.’

At the commencement of the present century, when
the invasion of the country by a foreign enemy was
gencrally expected, the beacons were once more put
in order, and occasionally some were fired, either as a
Strategetic experiment, to ascertain the force which
could be relicd upon in case of sudden need, or from
a@ rumour that the cnemy had really landed. How
completely altered are now all the means of dispatch
and publicity compared to what they were a few cen-
turies ago. Now we have the telegraph, which is ca-
peur of transmitting many facts, instead of one only,
rom one end of a country to the other in the space of
a few minutes; and it is serviceable by day, which the
beacon was not; and if recourse were had to a fire-
signal for night communication, a piece of lime not
bigger than a boy’s marble, exposed to the action of a
flame which in itself is scarcely luminous, would be
made to yield a light so intense as to be visible at a
distance of sixty or seventy miles.* The concentration
of an armed force could be effected on any part of the
coast in a few hours by means of railroads. The in-
vaders, instead of waiting days perhaps for a favour-
able wind before they could descend upon our coasts,
would make their unerring approach aided by the
power of steam; and on the other hand, fleets of armed
steam-ships would oppose them. Let us hope that the
time is far distant for a trial of these new resources of
war, which modern science has placed in the hands of
civilized nations.

THE OAK.
[Concluded from page 263.]

* Tue Chandos Oak stands in the plcasure-grounds
at Michendon House, near Southgate, and is about
sixty feet high. The head covers a space the diameter
of which measures about one hundred and eighteen
feet; the girth of the trunk, at one foot from the ground,
is eighteen feet three inches. It has no large limbs;
but, when in full foliage, ‘its boughs bending to the
earth, with almost artificial regularity of form, and
equidistance from each other, give it the appearance
of a gigantic tent.’ It forms, indeed, ‘a magnificent
living canopy, impervious to the day.’ (Strutt.)”
‘The Merton Oak stands on the estate of Lord
Walsingham. It is sixty-six feet high, and, at the
surface of the ground the circumference of the trunk
is sixty-three feet two inches ; at one foot it is forty-six
fect one inch; the trunk is eighteen feet six inches to
the fork of the branches; the largest limb is cightcen
feet, and the second sixteen feet in circumicrence.
Pre ooh No. 514, for an account of the Drummond and Bude
iwhts.

MAGAZINE.

The Winfarthing Oak is seventy fect in circumference,
the trunk quite hollow, and the cavity large enough
to hold at least thirty persons. An arm was blown off
in 1811, which containgd two waggon-loads of wood.
‘Of the age of this remarkable tree,’ says Mr. S. Tay-
lor, in a letter to Mr. Loudon, ‘I regret to be unable
to give any correct data. It is said tohave been called
the ‘Old Oak ” at the time of William the Conqueror,
but upon what authority I could never learn. Wovers
theless, the thing is not impossible, if the speculations
of certain writers on the age of trees be at all correct.
Mr. South, in one of his letters to the Bath Society
(vol. x.), calculates that an oak-tree forty-seven feet in
circumference cannot be less than fifteen hundred
years old; and Mr. Marsham calculates the Bentley
Oak, from its girthing thirty-four feet, to be the same
aze. Now, an inscription on a brass plate affixed to the
Winfarthing Oak gives us the following as its dimen-
sions :—*‘ This oak, in circumference, at the extremi-
ties of the roots, is seventy fect; in the middle, forty
feet: 1820.” Now, I sce no reason, if the size of the
rind is to be any criterion of age, why the Winfarthing
should not, at least, equal the Bentley Oak; and, if so,
it would be upwards of seven hundred years old at the
Conquest; an age which might very well justify its
then title of the * Old Oak.” It isnowa mere shell—a
mighty ruin, bleached to a snowy white; but it is
magnificent in its decay ; and I do wonder much that

(Jury 23,

Mr. Strutt should have omitted it in his otherwise |

satisfactory list of tree worthics. The only mark of
vitality it exhibits is on the south side, where a narrow
strip of bark sends forth a few branches, which even
now occasionally produce acorns. It is said to be very
much altered of late; but I own I did not think so
when I saw it about a month ago (May, 1836); and my
acquaintance with the veteran is of more than forty years’
standing ; an important portion of my life, but a mere
span of «fs own.’” (‘Gard. Mag..,’ vol. xii., p. 586.)

“The Salcey Forest Oak, Sir Thomas Dick Lauder
describes as ‘ one of tl ost picturesque sylvan ruins
that can be met with a¢hywhere.’ It is supposed to be
above fifteen hundred years old; and its trunk is so
decayed, as to form a complete arch, which is fourteen
feet eight inches high, and twenty-nine fect in circum-
ference inside. The trec is thirty-three feet three
inches high, and about forty-seven feet in circumfe-
rence on the outside near the ground. (Strutt.) This
fine ruin is still standing ; and, though it has latterly
become much wasted, it annually produces a crop of
leaves and acorns.”

“The Parliament Oak grows in yy sales Park,
Nottinghamshire, and derives its name from a parlia-
ment having been held under it by Edward I. m 12u0,
The girth of this tree is twenty-eight feet six inches,
Clipstone Park is the prover’ of the Duke of Port-
land, and is supposed to be the oldest park in Eng-
land, having been a park before the Conquest, and
having been then scized by William and made a royal
demesne. Both John and Edward I. resided and kept
acourt in Clipstone Palace.” To this we may add
the statement of a correspondent of the ‘ Doncaster
Gazette’ of June 24 of the present ycar, as to the con-
dition of this venerable tree :—‘ From my own actual
admeasurement,” says he, ‘‘ the dimensions are as fol-
lows :—Height of the trunk, twenty feet; circum-
ference on the ground, twenty-seven feet seven inches;
fourteen feet from the ground, thirty-two fect six in-
ches. Two large aris still remain, which, at the time
of my visit, were in full and vigorous growth, and had
already made shoots of twenty inches in length. From
the quantity of blossom I observed, it bids fair to have
an abundant crop of acorns, notwithstanding its ex-
treme age.”

“The Shelton Oak, growing near Shrewsbury, mea-

1842]

sured, in 1810, as follows :—Girth, close to the ground,
forty-four fect three inches ; five feet from the ground,
twenty-five fect one inch; cight feet from the ground,
twenty-seven fect four inches ;. height to the principal
bough, forty-one feet six inches. (‘Gent. Mag.,’ Oct.
1810.) The tree was very much decayed in 1813, and
had a hollow at the bottom sufficient to hold with ease
half a dozen persons. (‘Beauties of England and
Wales; Shropshire,’ 179.) This oak was celebrated
for Owen Glendower having mounted on it to observe
the battle of Shrewsbury, fought on June 21, 1403,
between Henry IV. and Harry Percy. The battle had
commenced before Glendower arrived; and he as-
cended the tree to see how the day was likely to go.
Finding that Hotspur was beaten, and the force of the
king was overpowering, he retired with his twelve
thousand men to Oswestry.”

“‘The Grindstone Oak, near Farnham, was once an
enormous tree. Itscircumference, near the ground, is
still forty-eight feet; and at three feet high, thirty-
three feet. It is, however, fast waning to decay.”

“The Bull Oak, in Wedgnock Park, isa remarkable
specimen of an oak of this kind. It measures at one
foot above the ground forty feet, and six feet from the
ground thirty-seven feet, in circumference. The
height of the trunk is about seventeen feet before it
throws out branches. The inside is quite decayed ;
and, being open on one side, cattle are generally found
sheltering in it. The head is still in a vigorous and
flourishing state. The Gospel Oak stands near Stone-
leigh Abbey ; and it derives its name from the custom
which formerly prevailed, when the minister and other
officers of the parish went round its boundaries jn
Rogation Week, of stopping at remarkable spots and
trees to recite passages of the Gospel.”

“ The Cowthorpe Oak is a very remarkable tree.
The following are the dimensions of this tree, as given
in Hunter’s ‘ Evelyn :’'—Close to the ground, it mea-
sured seventy-cight feet in circumference; and at
three feet from the ground, forty-eight feet. The fol-
lowing account was sent to us by a correspondent in
Yorkshire, in October, 1829 :—‘ Cowthorpe is a smal]
village on the right bank of the river Nid, in the
wapentake of Clare, in the West Riding of the county
of York, and about a mile and a half on the right of
the great road from London to Edinburgh, where it
crosses the river by Walshford Bridge. This stupen-
dous oak stands in a paddock near the village church,
and is the property of the Hon. E. Petre, of Stapleton
Park, near Ferrybridge. On a stranger’s first ob-
serving the tree, he is struck with the majestic appear-
ance of its ruined and riven-looking dead branches,
which in all directions appear above the luxuriant
foliage of the lateral and lower arms of the tree. In
1722 one of the side branches was blown down ina
violent gale of wind; and, on being accurately mea-
sured, was found to contain upwards of five tons of wood.
The largest of the living branches at present extends
about forty-eight feet from the trunk; and its circum-
ference, at about one yard from the giant bole, is eight
feet six inches. Three of the living branches are pr pped
by substantial poles, resting upon stone pedestals. The
diameter in the hollow part, at the bottom. is nine feet
ten inches: the greatest height of the dead branches is
about fifty-six teet. It is evidently of very great anti-
quity, as all tradition represents it as a very old tree.”

“In Bagot’s Park, near Blithefield, about four miles
from Lichfield, there are several very remarkable
trees. Bagot’s Park is the seat of Lord Bagot, who
may be regarded as one of the greatest planters of
‘oaks in the kingdom, having planted two millions of
acorns on his estates in Staffordshire and Wales.’
(Strutt.) The Squitch Oak has a clear trunk thirty-
three feet high, which contains six hundred and sixty

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

283

cubic feet; one limb, forty-four feet long; and four-
teen other limbs containing altogether three hundred
and fifty-two cubic feet: making a total of one thou-
sand and twelve cubic feet of timber. The totais
height is sixty-one feet; the circumference, near the
ground, is forty-threc fect; and at five feet, is twenty-
one feet nine inches. The Rake’s Wood Oak is a very
old tree, and has lost many of its branches and several
feet of its height. It is now about fifty-five feet high,
and pretty nearly thirty fect in circumference at five
feet from the ground. The Beggar’s Oak is also in
Bagot’s Park, and has a trunk twenty-seven feet three
inches in circumference at five feet from the ground:
the height is abuut sixty feet. ‘The roots rise above
the ground in a very extraordinary manner, £0 as to
furnish a natural seat for the beggars chancing to pass
along the pathway near it; and the circumference
taken around these is sixty-eight feet. The branches
extend about fifty feet from the trunk in every direction.
This tree contains eight hundred and seventy-seven
cubic feet of timber, which, including the bark, would
have produced, according to the eae offered for it in
1812, 2022. 14s. 9d.’—(‘ Lauder’s Gilpin,’ i., p. 254.)”
Of Scottish Oaks we will only quote the notices of
two:—In Renfrewshire, “at Ellerslie, the native village
of the hero Wallace, there is still standing ‘the large
oak tree,’ among whose branches it is said that he aud
three hundred of his men hid themselves from the
English. Its circumference at the base is twenty-one
feet: and at fifteen feet, thirteen feet two inches ; its
height is sixty-seven feet; and the expanse of its
boughs is, east forty-five fect, west thirty-six feet, south
thirty feet, north twent -five feet ; thus spreading over
an extent of nineteen fn lish, or fifteen Scotch, poles.
In Roxburghshire, near Jedburgh, on the estate of the
Marquess of Lothian, stands a remarkable oak, called
the King of the Woods. ‘It 1s now (January 19, 1837)
sixteen feet six inches in circumference, at one foot
from the ground; its whole height is seventy-three
feet; the height of the trunk, before it forms branches,
is forty-three feet; and it is as straight as, and some-
thing of the form of, a wax candle. It is, perhaps, the
finest piece of oak timber in Scotland; and its beauty
has probably saved it from the axe, for it, and its
neighbour, the Capon Tree, seem to be a century older
than any of the other old trees in the county. The
Capon Tree is also an oak; but it possesses quite a
different character from that of the King of the Woods ;
the trunk, and every branch of it, being excessively
crooked. At one time it must have covered an im-
mense space of ground; but, from being long ne-
glected and ill pruned, the size has been for many
years diminishing, though the Marquess is now having
every possible care taken to keep the tree alive. The
circumference of this tree, at two feet from the ground
(for it is all root under that height), is twenty-four feet
six inches; and the whole height is fifty-six feet: the
space the branches overhang 1s above ninety-two fect
in diameter. This last tree is said to have been the
lace where the border clans met in olden times; and
ene the name of Capon, from the Scotch word ne
to meet. It stands in a haugh (meadow) close by the
side of Jedwater; and the King of the Woods on the
top of a bank, about’ three hundred or four hundred
yards south of it, and both near the old Castle of Fer-
niherst, and about a mile and a half above the burgh
of Jedburgh.’”
This list might be increased to an almost indefinite
extent, as every county in England, and alinost every
district, has its oaks remarkable for their size, or for
some peculiarity or association. We have, however,
already exceeded our limits, led on by the interest we
have taken in these vast living monuments of departed
ages, and must therefore close. ae

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THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

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{Elevation of House.}
METHOD OF REMOVING HOUSES IN during the ; but in houses constructed of brick

AMERICA.

Tuer removing of houses from one s
far distant is not a pare te
commonl pense at present day in Ame-
rica,* hile houses were constructed principally of
timber, the difficulty was not very great, arising chiefl

from the heavy weight to be moved, as, when Moan
from their foundations, the elasticity and adhesion of
their materials were sufficient to keep them together

* Stow mentions, in his ‘Survey of London,’ 1598, that his
father's house in Throgmorton Street was loosened from the
ground, and removed on rollers to a distance of 22 feet, by the
order of Thomas Cromwell, afterwards Earl of Essex, who was
desirous of enlarging his garden.

to another not
England, and is very

the difficulties are evidently greatly increased, and
the necessity for a much larger share of ingenuity and
contrivance required. Though this latter process 1s
not altogether unknown in England, indeed a light-
house in Northumberland of considerable size —
been lately removed to some distance from its original
site, yet it has been chiefly in America that the plan
has been practised, where it has been found eminently
useful in enabling them to widen the streets or 1m-
prove the plans of their rapidly-growing towns. As
the subject is of some interest, we will endeavour to
give a description of the method of proceeding.

In the building to be removed, which must be a
detached one (or the whole block may be removed if
not too large), corresponding openings are made in

Digitized by Google

1842. }

each of the end walls just above the ground, sufficiently
e to admit the insertion of beams about a foot cr
fifteen inches square, which project about two or three
feet from each end, and are laced at intervals of about
four feet from each other (marked 1 in the engrav-
ings); the projecting ends resting on blocks of wood
fixed firmly on the ground, clear of the walls. When
the beams are placed, wedges are driven between
their projecting ends and the fixed blocks in order to
drive them up Couey tune the upper part of the
wall, thus supplying place of the bricks knocked
away, and supporting the weight of the walls. This
done, the foundation of the end walls may be removed,
the intermediate brick-work taken away, and a clear
space left for further operations. The same operation
ig then pursued with the front and back walls, the
beams, No. 2, passing below and across those first
laid, and resting Jike them on blocks outside the wails.
The foundation being new wholly laid bare, the two
sets of Gimbers are forced closely up to each other and
to the brick-work by upright screws placed on the
ground beneath them, No. 3. This operation relieves
the blocks, on whtch ee ends rested, of the
weight of the house, they are taken away; the
house now resting entirely on the timber frame-work,
sustained by the screws. The ground beneath is
now dug away, and a set of fixed slides, or ways, as
they are commonly calied (6 in engravings), pal ced
exactly where the foundations of the end walls had
previously stood ; on these ways, in which deep grooyes
are ent, are placed a set of cradies, similar to those
used in ship-yards (6 in engravings), which have a pro-
jection or feather, corresponding with and intended to
move in the grooves of the ways, both being previously
well greased, and between these cradles and the tim-
bers marked 2 the beams marked 4 are inserted at
right angles with both pieces of wood, and wedges are
then driven in at various parts to tighten the whole in
order to bring the entire weight of the building on to
the cradles, and consequently upon the ways on which
they rest; figs. 7, 8, and 9, in the engraving of the end
wall, show some of the ways in which these strengthen-
ings are applied. When this is effected the supporting
screws can be withdrawn, and the whole of this compli-
cated frame-work is so well fastened together, that there
is little danger of the edifice it supports getting deranged
in the act of moving. It is scarcely necessary to add
that the ways must be laid continiously to the exact
spot in which the house is to be deposited, where, in
eneral, a new foundation has been prepared for it.
he ecrews are then placed horizontally against the

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THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

285

cradies, and, being made to act together, the cradles
with their burden move along the ways at the rate of
three or four feet per day to their place of destination.
When arrived there, by inverting the process, the tim-
bers are withdrawn one by one, and the house is perma-
peny fixed in its new situation without injury to itself,
and frequently without even removang the furniture.

The following curious accounts of the application
of this invention in New York, we give in the words
of the correspondent, to whom we are indebted for the
materials of the previous notice :—

“Chapel Street, in New York, was widened by
order of the Corporation; many of the houses werc
moved back, and some pulled down. At the corner of
Chapel and Leonard streets stood a large and strong
brick building used as a blacksmith’s workshop: this
lying in the way of the improvement, had to be removed :
it was sold by auction, and was purchased very cheaply
by a person who owned a small house adjoining it in
Leonard Street, with some ground behind it. The
speculative purchaser first moved the small house in
Leonard Street, beyond the extremity of the black-
emith’s shop, and turned its front towards Chapel
Street; he then moved back the blacksmith’s buildin
the required number of feet, and brought it on a leve
with the small bouse previously moved. Out of the old
workshop he formed three bandsome three-story houses,
with shops, and made additions to the small house, 80
that the whole now presents a line of four houses.

“In a more recent improvemcnt, Centre Street was
widened and extended, in order to join a main
thoroughfare by the City Hall. Many houses were
ae down, and carried back as in other instances,

there was one well-built brick house that stood
completely across the proposed roadway. There was
not sufficient reom on either side to receive it wholly,
so the ingenious pope rather than sacrifice his
house, conceived the idea of dividing it from top to
bottom through the three floors: this he actually
accomplished, and the two distinct parts were con-
veyed to opposite sides of the street, in which state I
saw them before the chasms in the walls had been
been supplied. He then perfected them, and they
form now two separate, though narrow buildings. _

“ The cost of moving a moderate-sized brick dwelling
is about one hundred dollars, very considerably less,
even with the new brick-work, than the expense of
pulling down and rebuilding, besides saving much
time. A Mr. Simeon Brown of New York is said to
have been the projector of this peculiar and useful
operation : he died, I believe, only a few months since.”

. | i (({|!

! "

286

RECENT IMPROVEMENTS IN LIGHT-
HOUSES.

Since our descriptions of the Eddystone and North
Foreland Lighthouses were published in Nos. 20 and
222 of the ‘Penny Magazine,’ many projects have been
partially or fully acted on, tending to the introduction
uf considerable changes in the general principle of
construction in these invaluable beacons. We shall
endeavour, in two short papers, to present a general
outline of the improvements to which we allude, and
which we may classify thus:—Ist, lighthouses con-
structed of iron; 2nd, Mitchell's screw-pile light-
houses; 3rd, beacons for sand-banks ; 4th, lighthouses
for sand-banks ; 5th, suggested improvements in the
lights or lamps. ; ;

In acountry where we have iron ships, Iron carriages,
iron roads, and iron buildings, it is not wonderful that
the cmployment of the same metal asa material for
lighthouses should have been suggested. Consum-
mate as was the skill displayed by Smeaton in the
Eddystone lighthouse, we are disposed to think that
a much less ponderous mass of material will be gene-
rally used in future operations of the kind. But with-
Out anticipating the future, it will be sufficient to
notice what is now doing in this way. When it was
proposed a few years ago to construct a lighthouse on
the Wolf Rock near the Land’s End, Captain Brown,
the engineer of the Brighton chain-pier, offered to
construct one of iron, or, at a higher cost, of bronze.
IIe proposed that it should be nincty feet high, fourteen
feet in diameter at the bottom, and four at the thinnest
part; the structure being built up of separate trun-
cated conical picces of cast-iron, fitting one on another
something like the joints of a telescope. Above the
column was to be a kecper’s house, surrounded by an
open gallery which overhung the pillar, and sur-
mounted by the lantern. Within the body of the
column were to be the sleeping-berths for the attend-
ants ; and store-rooms for provisions, coals, water, and
oil. Captain Brown’s estimate of the advantages
likely to result from the adoption of such a plan
related to the following points :—That the expense
would be very much smaller than that of a stone
lighthouse; that the time of erection would be much
shorter ; that by the slenderness of its shaft, it would
not present such a wide surface for the sea to act
against as a stone lighthouse ; that it would have but
eight joints from the ground to the lantern, whereas a
stone lichthouse has many thousands; and that from
the whole circumference of each stage or story being
cast in one picce, it would be capable of resisting im-
Inense pressure.

A modification of this plan has been put into prac-
tical operation by the crection of a cast-iron lighthouse
in Jamaica, at a spot where the erection of a stone or
brick one would have required a heavy aa and a
long period of time. It was expected to be lighted
for the first time on New-Ycar’s Day in the present
year; and the details of its construction (for which we
are indebted to the ‘ Civil Engineer’s Journal’) are
as follow:—The engineer, Mr. A. Gordun, formed
the design after the Celtic or round towers of Ire-
land; and Messrs. Bramah and Robinson, of Pimlico,
exhibited the whole on their premiscs in about three
months from the time of the contract being made; a
striking proof of the rapidity with which such plans can
be put into execution. As the diameter is much larger
than that mentioned in the preceding paragraph, the cir-
cuinference is formed of several picces, instead of one.

The tower or shaft is founded on a coral rock, a
little above the level of the sea; the face of this rock
is about ten feet beneath a sandy stratum, which
will be cxcavated to receive the base of the tower,

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

(Jury 23,

resting on and cased with granite, to prevent the
filtration of sea-water from acting on the iron.
This course of granite is grooved to receive the
flange of the lower plates of the tower, from which
lightning-conductors are to proceed to the sea.
The diameter of the tower-shait is eighteen feet six
inches at its base, diminishing to eleven feet at the
top: it is formed of nine tiers of plates, each ten feet
in height, from four to five feet in width, and nearly
an inch thick. The circumference is formed of eleven
plates at the base and nine at the top: they are cast
with a flange all round the inner edges, and when put
together these flanges form the joints, which are fas-
tened together with nut-and-screw bolts, and caulked
with iron cement. The ‘cap’ to the column consists
of ten radiating plates, which form the floor of the
light-room : they are secured to the tower upon twenty
ilerced brackets, and are finished by an iron railing.
Ihe lower portion of the tower, to about one-fourth of
its height, is filled up with masonry and concrete to
form a solid centre; and above this are the necessary
rooms for the attendants and the stores. The light-
room consists of cast-iron plates five feet high, where-
on are fixed metal sash-bars filled with plate-glass.
The light is of the revolving kind, consisting of fifteen
Argand lamps and reflectors, five in each side of an
equilateral triangle, and so placed as to constitute a
continuous light, but with periodical flashes. To pre-
serve as low a temperature as the circumstances and
climate will permit, the iron shaft or tower is to be
lined with a non-conducting material, such as slate or
wood, leaving an interstice through which a constant
ventilation will be effected, so as to carry off the ex-
cessive heat. The lower portion of the exterior is to
be coated with coal-tar, to prevent oxidation. The
whole arrangements were so planned, that the light-
house could Be erected from within, without the aid of
any external scaffolding; and the expense was esti-
mated at about seven thousand pounds. This light-
house is, we believe, the first of its kind actually
erected; and time will show how far it 1s fitted for the
i in view.
he next improvement we have to notice is that
of Mitchell’s screw-pile lighthouse, one of the most
remarkable applications of the screw ever perhaps
attempted. The first application of Mr. Mitchell’s in-
vention was, we believe, in reference to moorings for
ships, which, under the common system, usually con-
sist of a strong chain stretched along the bed of the
harbour or port, and secured at its extremities by
anchors or heavy blocks of stone, the ship being con-
nected with the chain by a cable. Under these cir-
cumstances accidents often occur, such as a ship's
anchor catching in the ground-chain, or a ship's keel
striking on the mooring-block. To obviate these
evils, and to lessen the expense of constructing moor-
ings, Mr. Mitchell devised a cast-iron instrument
which screws into the soil forming the bed of the river,
and thus obtains a very powerful hold. The screw is
from two to five feet in diameter, according to cir-
cumstances; but its thread, or inclined path, winds
only one and a half times round the centre. At the
upper end of the screw (the length of which about
equals the diamcter), the shaft or spindle is brought
to a square shape, so as to be wound round by a key
exactly as a pocket-watch is wound up. A key is
formed of jointed rods, placed end to end, till a suffi-
cient length is acquired ; and by this means the screw
is turned till it wholly enters the ground, where it
‘bites’ or clings so tightly that an immense force
would be necessary to tear it up. To the upper end
of the screw is attached links and other apparatus
whereby it can be connected with the cable of a ship,
and thus a mooring-anchor is produced.

1842.]

The success which attended this invention led the
Corporation of the Trinity House to consider how far
the principle might be available in the construction of
lighthouses on sand; and Mr. Walker, their engineer,
was directed to test the question on the Maplin Sands
lying at the mouth of the Thames, about twenty miles
below the Nore. This sand, which isa shifting one,
and dry at low-water, forms the northern side of the
King’s Channel, through which a large number of
ships pass on their way up the river. As the sand has
not stability snOen to support masonry, the idea was
conceived of building a skeleton lighthouse whose

iles or uprights should be screwed into the soil on

itchell’s principle. In August, 1838, operations
commenced. Eight shafts of wrought-iron were in-
serted in the sands, nearly upright, and arranged so
as to form an octagon, with a ninth quite upright in
the centre. These shafts were about twenty-five fect
long, and five inches in diameter; and at the lower
end of cach was a screw nearly five feet in diameter.
It was by this means that the shafts were made to
penetrate the sands, which they did to the depth of
twenty feet, the screws being driven by thirty men
acting on a capstan erected above. In about nine
days aj] the nine shafts were driven, till their upper
ends stood about five feet above the surface of the
rands, and forming an octagon forty feet in diameter.

The foundation being thus made, matters were left
till the spring of 1839, when the intervening space was
strengthened in various ways; and the manufacture
of the superstructure resolved on. After some delay,
the framing was commenced in August, 1840. The
lower part consists of eight cast-iron pillars, eighteen
feet long, eleven inches diameter externally, and nine
internally : these are fixed at the angles of the octagon,
and a ninth is placed in the centre. The lower part
of each pillar forms a socket, which is fitted over the
top of the corresponding screw-shaft to the extent of
four feet, and there fastencd by screws. These
pillars incline towards the centre; and at the upper
end of each isa socket for receiving the principal

rts of the timber framing. The pillars, which are

raced and bound strongly together, stand about four
feet above the highest water-mark. On these pillars
is erected a frame-work of stout timbers, consisting of
beams proceeding in various directions, and fastened
firmly to the iron pillars. Up to the height of about
twelve feet above high-water mark, the structure is
left quite open and pervious to air and water; but
above this elevation is a wooden residence for the
attendant, consisting of a living-room about twenty
feet long, a store-room inthe upper part, and store-
rooms for coals and water in the lower.

The structure was thus far completed by the month
of October, 1840, and immediately afterwards arrange-
ments were commenced for fixing the lights. Above
the living-room is fixed the lantern with a gallery all
around ; being a polygon of sixteen sides, twelve feet
diameter internally, and sixteen feet high from the
fioor to the roof. The principal part of the framing
is of cast-iron ; the roof, the interior lining, and the floor
being covered with copper. In the centre, upona
pedestal, is the dioptric Jight-apparatus, which may be
clearly seen from the deck of a vessel, in fine weather,
upwards of ten miles off, in all directions. On the
10th of February, 1841, the light was first exhibited;
and instructions, emanating from the Trinity House,
were issued for the guidance of mariners in respect
tw this lighthouse.

While these operations were going on, a still bolder
application of the “screw-pile” was exhibited in the
construction of a lighthouse in the mouth of the River
Wyre, where a sand-bank threatened to be the source

THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 287

fat!

of much danger to shipping entering Port Fleetwood,
if not pointed out by some such beacon. So far as the
Wyre lighthouse differs from that at Maplin, we may
briefly describe it. The structure is a hexagon, instead
of an octagon, there being six screw-piles at the
Six angles, and a seventh in the centre. The diameter
of the hexagon is nearly fifty feet at the base, but
less than thirty at the top. Each pile is fifteen fect
long and five inches diameter, and at its lower end is
a three-foot screw, by which it is driven into and
firmly attached to the sand. The pillars, instead ot
being iron, as at Maplin, are of Baltic timber, and are
nearly fifty feet in length. The pillars, being hollowed
at the lower end, are fitted on the tops of the shafts, and
thus form askeleton which rises considerably above the
highest water-mark. The great height of these pillars
is rendered peareatl by the fact that the difference
between the very highest and the very lowest tides is
as much as thirty feet. On the top of the open frame-
work is the attendant’s dwelling, a hexagon of twenty-
two feet diameter; and above this is the lantern, a
twelve-sided room, about ten feet in diameter, so
arranged that the lights within are about thirty feet
above the highest tide-level, and sixty above the
lowest.

A little reflection will show how remarkably this
mode of construction differs from that hitherto adopted
for lighthouses. Here is a structure entirely sup-
ported by seven posts or piles, driven, not into firm
rock, but into loose sand, or at least loam, which has
hitherto baffled the efforts of engineers to render it
stable and firm. The hold obtained for the seven
posts is in reality nothing more than one and a half
turns of a screw, fixed to the lower end of each post.
Above the screw-shafts are erected pillars of timber,
fitting by sockets in the upper end of the shafts; and
above these again is a dwelling for the attendant, and
a house or lantern to contain the light. The main
structure, too, instead of presenting to the violence of
the waves a surface which has, in some instances, been
supposed to be exposed to a pressure of one hundred
tons, consists only of skeleton frame-work, presenting
the least possible amount of resisting surface. One of
the most remarkable circumstances connected with
this mode of construction is the celerity with which
the various parts can be put up. The Wyre light-
house was reared in two winter months, when the
amount of daylight was so small as to render neces-
sary the prosecution of the operations by moonlight
or the light of flambeaux!

(To be continued.)

German Waggons.—There is great trade in charcoal here:
they are loading it now; and they contrive to put enormous
loads in their light and slight waggons, with wheels not Jarger
than the fore-one of our carriages in England. But the perch is
moveable, and they can make it any length they please: it is of
so simple a construction that every farmer can repair his own,
and make anything of it. If he has a perch, a pole, and four
wheels, that is enough: with a little ingenuity he makes it
carry stones, hay, earth, or anything he wants, by putting a
plank at each side. When he wants a carriage for pleasure, he
fits it up for that purpose; his moveable perch allows him to
make it anything. I counted seventeen grown persons silting
side by side, looking most happy, in one of them, drawn only
by a pair of small horses, and in this hilly country. If the
farmers in England would adopt these light waggons, instead of
their own expensive heavy ones, it would be a great saving, and
the roads would not be ground into deep ruts as they are now.—
Lady Vavasour's Last Tour and First Work.

THE JACKAL, OR TSCHAKKAL.

THis animal is of a yellowish-grey colour above,
whitish below, thighs and legs yellow, ears ruddy,
muzzle very pointed, tail reaching hardly to the heel
(properly so called). The colours sometimes vary,
and the back and sides are described by Mr. Bennett
as of mixed grey and black, and as abruptly and
strikingly distinguished from the deep and uniform
tawny of the shoulders, haunches, and legs. The head
nearly of the same mixed shade with the upper surface
of the body. Jt inhabits India and other parts of Asia,
and Africa. Cuvier says that jackals are met with
from India and the environs of the Caspian Sea to
Guinea, but that it is not certain that they are a)l of
the same species. Their habits gregarious, hunting
in packs, and the pests of the countries where they are
found, and where they burrow in the earth. In their
huntings the jackals will frequently attack the larger
quadrupeds, but the smaller animals and poultry are
their most frequent prey. Their cry is very pecuhar
and piercing. Captain Beechey notices it as having
something rather appalling when heard for the first
tine at night; and he remarks, that as they usually
come in packs, the first shriek which is uttered is
always the signal for a general chorus. “ We hardly
know,” continues the Captain, “a sound which partakes
less of harmony than that which is at present im ques-
tion; and indeed the sudden burst of the answering
long-protracted scream, succeeding immediately to the
Opening note, is scarcely less impressive than the roll
of the thunder-clap inmnediately after a flash of light-
ning. The effect of this music 1s very much increased
when the first note is heard in the distance (a circum-
stance which often occurs), and the answermg yell
bursts out from several points at once, withm a few
yards or feet of the place where the auditors are sleep-
ing.” ; |

The jackal is frequently alluded to in the sacred
writings. ‘‘The Hebrew word skual,” says the author
of the ‘Illustrated Commentary on the Old and New
Testaments,’ opel of the use made of them by
Samson, “rendered ‘fox’ in our version, is now gene-

rally agreed to be, in most cases, the jackal (canis | to

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

[JuLy 23,

amens). This animal is well enough depictured as
somethmg between the wolf and the fox, whence some
naturalists are disposed to describe it as ‘ the wolf-fox.’
It is about the size of the former animal. The upper
part of the body is of a dirty yellow; a darker mark
runs upon the back and sides ; and the under parts are
white. The jackals associate together hike the wolves,
and form large packs, sometimes, in Palestme, of about
two or three hundred ; differing in this respect from
the fox, which is not gregarious. In such packs, they
prow) at night in search of prey, which chiefly consists
of carrion, to obtain which they approach to the towns
and villages, and sometimes enter and prowl about the
streets when they can gain admittance. In some
towns, large num remain concealed durmg the
day, in holes and corners, which they leave at night to
scour the streets in search of food. It is often neces-
sary to secure the graves of the recently dead with
great care, to prevent the corpse from bemg dis-
interred and devoured by these animals. The howl-
ings of these packs of jackals are frightful, and give
great alarm to travellers; hence they are also called in
Hebrew ayim, ‘howlers.’ They do not molest man,
unless when they can do so with great advantage, as
when he lies asleep, or disabled by wounds or sickness.
The jackals, like the foxes, live in holes which they
form in the pou. they are particularly fond of
establishing themselves in ruined towns, not only
because they there find numerous secure retreats, ready
made, or completed with ease, but because the same
facilities attract to such places other animals, on some
of which they prey. [From this circumstance, the
prophets, in describing the future desolation of a city,
say it shall become the habitation of jackals ; a predic-
tion verified by the actual condition of the towns to
which thetr prophecies apply. But the common fox
is also of frequent occurrence in Palestine; and it
appears that the Hebrews mcluded both it and the
jackal under the name of shual, although the latter
was sometimes specially distinguished as the ayim. It
nust therefore, in most cases, be left to the bearme of
the context to determine when the jackal and the fox
are repenvely denoted, by the name (shkzal) common

(Jackals.,

1842.]

(Towa and Larbcur of St. Jonu &-J

NEWFOUNDLAND.

Tne island of Newfoundland, lying nearly opposite
the Gulf of St. Lawrence, is the nearest to Great Bri-
tain of any of our North American possessions ; the
distance between St. John’s and the harbour of Valen-
cia in Ireland being only one thousand six hundred
and fifty-six sea-miles. It was discovered by the Nor-
wegians before the tenth century, but its existence
seems to have been forgotten until its rediscovery in
1497 by John Cabot, then in the service of Henry VII.
His report of the great quantities of fish on the coasts
induced private adventurers to resort there so early as
the year 1500, and in 1536 a merchant of London at-
tempted, with the crew of his ship, to pass the winter
on the island; but the hardships they endured com-
pelled them to return to England before the winter
was over. In 1853 Sir Humfrey Gilbert, half-brother
to Sir Walter Raleigh, having obtained a grant of two
hundred leagues round any point of the coast where
he might choose to settle, proceeded to Newfoundland
with two hundred people in five small ships, and
formed a settlement in the Bay of St. John. issen-
sions soon broke out amongst the settlers: some re-
turned to England; and of the remainder, above one
hundred were lost in one of the ships in a storm while
exploring the south part of the island. Several other
attempts to form a settlement also failed. Jn 1623
Sir George Carteret, afterwards Lord Baltimore,
formed a colony in the south-eastern part of the island,
which he called Avalon. He appointed his son go-
vernor, and soon afterwardseproceeded to the settle-
ment himself, in order that he might enjoy the free
exercise of the Roman Catholic religion. Ten years
afterwards Lord Falkland, then lord-lieutenant of
Ireland, sent a body of settlers from that part of the
kingdom; and in 1654 Sir David Kirk, having pro-
cured a grant of land from the Parliament, went with
a few settlers to take possession. The French had in
the meantime been active in establishing a settlement
on the island. The French fishermen paid five per
cent. on the value of the fish which they took, as an
acknowledgment of the sovereignty of the British,

No. 662.

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

In 1675 Charles IJ. relinquished this tribute, and the
French fishery rapidly increased. The French and
English fishermen were, however, constantly in col-
lision; and the encroachments of the French were
alluded to in the declaration of war against France,
issued by William III. shortly after he came to the
throne, and were indeed set forth as one of the causes
of the war. After alluding to the tribute which the
French formerly paid as an acknowledgment of the
sole right of the crown of England, the declaration
stated, that ‘of late the encroachments of the French
upon that island, and his majesty’s subjects’ trade and
fishery there, had been more like the invasion of an
enemy than becoming friends who enjoyed the advan-
tages of that trade only by permission.” During this
and the following war both the French and English
settlements were frequently attacked. In 1708 the
town of St. John’s was nearly destroyed by the French,
and they had gained possession of nearly every settle
ment; but at the peace of Utrecht, in 1714, the sove-
reignty of the English was duly acknowledged: the
French were permitted to occupy the small islands
of St. Pierre and Miquelon, near the entrance of Pla-
centia Bay, the garrison in each not being allowed to
exceed fifty men. The French were to enjoy the
rights of fishery under certain restrictions; but this
subject is still in a disputed and unsatisfactory state.
Newfoundland is rather larger than England and
Wales. Little is known of the interior. ‘The shores
are indented by broad and deep bays entering from
forty to fifty miles into the body of the island. The

western coast is generally rugged and cin but the
eastern side of the island consists ale T of low
hills. The climate is humid, and especially disagree-

able on the setting in and breaking up of winter, and
when the fields of ice, which float from north to south
during the months of April and May, are near the coast,
and the wind is from seaward. The heat in summer
is often very great. There are tracts of alluvial soil
along the banks of the rivers, but from the nature of
the climate agriculture will always be a secondary
branch of industry, as the fisheries on the coast are a
more profitable pursuit than the cultivation of an in-

Vou. XI.—2 P

290

hospitable soil. In 1836 the number of acres in cul-
tivation was eleven thousand and sixty-two, and their
produce ten thousand three hundred bushels of oats.
above a inillion bushels of potatoes, and nearly seven
thousand tons of hay. The number of horses was one
thousand five hundred and fifty-one, of horned cattle
five thousand eight hundred and thirty-five, and of
sheep three thousand one hundred and three. The
inhabitants are for the most part dependent for pro-
visions upon importation. In fact, if it were not for
the fisheries, the island would not probably be settled
at all; and as it is, large numbers only resort to it
during the fishing-season, and leave it during the
winter. The settlements are all upon the coast, the
grand occupation of the population being exclusively
in the fisheries, and in those branches of industry
which are immediately connected therewith. The
peninsula of Avalon, which is united to the main body
of the island by a low isthmus little more than three
miles wide, is the chief seat of the population, the
settlements on the other coasts being tew and far be-
tween, and of little individual importance. In these
latter settlements, from their little intercourse with
one another, the character of cach is singularly diver-
sified, preserving traits of their origin as distinct as if
they had been formed yesterday. Archdeacon Wix,
who, in spite of perils by sca and land of no common
kind, made a tour of these secluded settlements in
1835, which he has published under the title of ‘Six
Months of a Newfoundland Missionary’s Journal,’ says
that “asingle league may often carry the traveller
upon the same shore from a people whose habits are
extremely coarse and revolting, to a population which
has suffered nothing, perhaps has gained, from its
being far removed from the seat of advanced civiliza-
tion and refinement. Much of the character of a
settlement must of course depend for several genera-
tions on the character of its original settlers.” The
original settlers were either from Jersey, England,
Scotland, Ireland, or France. The want of education
and of the means of religious instruction is deplorable
in most of these scattcred settlements, and in some the
inhabitants are verging to a state of ignorance and
brutality which will render the people little better
than savages. Archdeacon Wix found in some of the
most secluded settlements that a rude calendar was
attempted to be kept, but that froin neglect or mistakes
the Sunday was in some cases kept by a few religious
families on a Saturday or Monday, a day having been
lost or gained.

The following description of St. John's, the capital
of the island, is taken from the ‘ Penny Cyclopsedia :’-—
‘‘ The port and town of St. John’s is on the east side
of the island. The entrance of the harbour is so
narrow that two ships can hardly pass abreast with
safety. There are twelve feet water in the middle of the
channel. The harbour is spacious and sheltered on
all sides by high rocks; its fortifications are rather
strong than extensive. The town runs along nearly
the whole of the north side of the port, but there can
scarcely be said to be more than one street, the others
being irregular Janes. A few of the houses are of
stune or brick, and some of them are handsome,
but the greater part are of wood. The government
and public offices are tolerably extensive. The popu-
lation in summer hardly excceds ten thousand, but on
the return of the fishermei it is increased to fitteen
thousand.” There are two episcopal churches, and
the Roman Catholics, who are numeroua, have one of
the finest chapels in British North America. Harbour
Grace, on the western shore of Conception Bay, is the

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

(Jury 30,

lation of Newfoundland twas 13,112; in 1806 it was
estimated at 26,500; in 1823, according to a census, it
amounted to 52,157; and by a subsequent census taken
in 1836 the population was 73,705.

The Great Bank of Newfoundland, which appears to
be a mass of solid rock, 1s about six hundred miles
long, and in soine places two hundred broad. The
edges are abrupt; the soundings on the bank vary
from twenty-five to ninety-five fathoms; but there is
one part which is only about four fathoms. The best
fishing-grounds are between 42° and 46° north Jatitude,
south-east of the island. The temperature of the
water is from 10° to 12° colder than that of the sur-
rounding sea. In 1793 the fishery employed 400 ships,
of the aggregate burthen of 38,000 tons, and 2000 boats.
In 1836, 800 ships arrived in the colony, and their total
burthen was 98,830 tons; more than one-half were
from Great Britain and her colonies; 3.) ships were
from the United States; and 232 from other foreign
states. The fishery in 1836 produced 860,354 quintals
of codfish, 1534 barrels of herrings, 1817 tierces of
salmon, 38+,321 seal-skins, and 9483 tuns of cod, seal,
and whale oil; the value of the whole being 808,0662.
The importations consist of salt provisions from Ireland
and Germany ; biscuit from Germany ; flour from the
United States and the north of Europe; and Indian corn
meal from tlhe United States. The total value of the
imports in 1836 was 579,799/., and of the exports
787,0390.

PERFORATIONS IN SHAKSPERE'’S CLIFF,
DOVER.

RAILWAY engineering is producing remarkable
changcs in the appearance of many spots hitherto
held almost sacred by the antiquary or the poet.
The ‘viaduct’ and the ‘tunnel,’ the ‘embankment’
and the ‘cutting,’ are changing the face of many such
scenes in different parts of England: we may occa-
sionally regret that such should be the case ; yet so
Joug as land is readily sold when a price is offered for
it, the natural course of commercial enterprise will
lead tosuch results. One instance of this sort 1s afforded
in the works now in progress for the South-Eastern
Railway, the remarkable elevation westward of Dover,
known as ‘Shakspere’s Cliff,’ has been perforated with
no fewer than sixteen channels or passages.

In our account of Dover Castle given in a former
volume,* the Shakspere Cliff was mentioned ina short
paragraph; but the nine years which have elapsed
since that article was written have witnessed singular
changes in its state, and of these changes we shall
present a few details furnished by a recent visit to the
spot.

To understand the route of the South-Eastern Rail-
way, through and among the cliffs westward of Dover,
it will be necessary to bear in mind the general cha-
racter of the coast. From the South Foreland to
Folkstone, a distance in a straight line of probably ten
miles, the Kentisa coast presents a succession of high
cliffs so little broken that there is only one spot in the
intervening distance where a town could be built on
the sea-shore: this is the spot occupied by Dover. At
Dover the cliffs recede from the sea, insomuch that,
instead of being washed by the waves, they are situated
so far inland as to allow a part of the town to be built
on the shore between thei and the sea. There is also
a complete break or valley in the cliffs at this part, py
which the read to Dover from Canterbury enters the
town; and along this depressed portion the remainder
of the town is built. Dover thus lies in a hollow, on

next town in importance, and contains a population of ; the eastern side of which is a bold cliff surmounted by

five thousand.

consist chiefly of wooden houses. In 1763 the popu-

he other settlements are small, and | the castle: froin this latter a complete view of the

* «Penny Magazine,’ vol. ii., p. 57.

1842.]

whole town can be obtained. Westward of the depres-
sion, which we have called the valley, the hilly ground
recommences, at some distance from the sea, and forms
the fortified Western Heights, to which access is gained
from the town of Dover by a spiral staircase of two
hundred steps, called the Military Shaft. From these
heights the hilly ground approaches nearer and nearer
to the sea, till at length it again forms chalky cliffs
washed by the sea. Shakspere’s Cliff is one of the
many poe elevations presented in the distance
from thence to Folkstone.

When, eight or ten years ago, a project was set on
foot for forming a railroad from London to the eastern
part of Kent, many competing lines were proposed;
one through the northern part of the county, one
through the midland district, and one approaching
more nearly to the Sussex coast. But none of these
could reach Dover without perforations of some kind
through the cliffs by which the town is bounded on
the land side. Into the history of the parliamentary dis-
cussion carried on by the advocates of the competing
lines we shall not enter, suffice it to say that about five
or six years ago the South-Eastern Railway was
determined on: proceeding from London on part of
the London and Brighton line, thence eastward
through a flat district known as the Weald of Kent,
and lastly through and among and around the cliff:
separating Folkstone from Dover. Heavy works were
resolved upon in these cliffs, in order to bring the ter-
minus of the railway as close as possible to Dover
Harbour ; and thus it happened that Shakspere’s Cliff
became one of those included in the operations.

All the perforations intended to be made through
the cliff are, we believe, now nearly completed, and
we can therefore judge of their general effect. A
portion of the railway, a few miles beyond Folkstone,
will pass through a cliff near the sea by a tunnel
upwards of a mile in length ; it will then emerge, and
de for a mile and a quarter quite close to the sea,

aving stupendous cliffs bounding it on one hand, and
the sea beneath it on the other; a situation the most
striking and beautiful perhaps that any of our railways
present. The railroad will then pass through the
Shakspere Cliff by a double tunnel, three-quarters of a
nile in length, and, on its emergence, will be con-
tinued on an embankment or artificial beach at the
sea-side, to a point very near Dover Harbouf.

By a double tunnel through Shakspere’s Cliff, we
mean a tunnel arranged on the principle of the
Thames Tunnel, one archway being devoted to car-
riages proceeding from cast to west, and the other for
those passing from west to east. These parallel arches
or tunnels are neither circular nor elliptical, as usually
constructed, but pointed Gothic, each arch being
thirty fect high by twelve wide. At certain intervals
there are latcral communications from one archway
to the other. From the level of the tunnels to the
summit of the cliff seven vertical shafts ascend, about
six feet in diameter, and varying from about a hun-
dred and sixty to two hundred feet high; each arch
descending to one of the lateral communications from
tunnel to tunnel. From the tunnels, and at right
angles to their length, are seven horizontal shafts or
galleries carried out to the very face of the cliff: they
are about six fect wide and seven high, and descend
by a slight inclination to the face of the cliff, the dis-
tance being probably from four to six hundred feet.
We are not aware that any other railroad tunnels pre-
sent this singular feature of horizontal gallerics at
right angles to their length; nor, indeed, are there
many districts where such could be procured. The
object of these lateral galleries is twofold. In the
first place thcy have furnished a convenient incans
whereby the chalk and rock excavated from the tunnels

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

291

could he precipitated into the sea; and in the next
lace th>y will aid in producing a more complete venti-
ation of the tunnels than vertical shafts alone could
afford; for in summer the air within all these tunnels,
being colder and heavier than that without, can
scarcely ascend vertical shafts, whereas it can easily
pass along these horizontal galleries to the sea. In
making these various perforations the seven vertical
shafts were sunk first, then the seven horizontal gal-
leries proceeding thence to the sea-face of the cliff,
and lastly the two tunnels themselves, parallel to each
other and to the sea, and at an average distance from
the sea of about four or five hundred feet.

A few hours spent at Dover would enable a strauger
to witness much here described. To reach that end of
the tunnel nearest to Dover, the face of the cliffgsa
little eastward of the entrance may be descended by
eps cut in the chalky precipice; buta less difficult
and dangerous path may be obtained along the beach
from the streets of Dover near the fort. On the beach
from the fort to the tunnel, a platform or embankment
is now being formed to constitute part of the railroad,
andat the end of this the light and elegant Gothic arches
of the tunnel areseen. In order to obtain a favourable
entrance to the tunnel, an immense semicircular mass
of chalk rock has been cut away from the eastern end
of Shakspere’s Cliff; but beyond this, the admirers of
the poet have not to complain of much change in the
external appearance of the cliff, however much it may
be honeycombed within. On reaching the entrance
of the tunnel, a small house is seen, inhabited by an
overseer or superintendant; and from him, owing to
the liberal regulations of the Company, permission
may be obtained to traverse the tunnel from end to
end. No fees are allowed to be given to the servants
of the Company; but any contribution which a visitor
may be willing to make to a fund for the sick or
injured workmen is received for that purpose. A
lantern is given to the visitor, and with that in hand
he may penetrate as far through the tunnel as his
courage will permit. A slight glimmering of daylight
is visible at the other end, but not sufficient to dispel the
darkness, which is only rendered “more visible” by
the lantern. The arches are not yet im a finished state,
and the dropping of water from the roof renders the
floor in many parts dirty and unpleasant. When we have
groped our way along the tunnel (of which the north-
ern archway only is at Ngai open to visitors, the
southern being occupied by workmen) to the first
shaft, we find a lateral operiing leading from one arch-
way to the other; and in the middle of the pier or
bulk which separates the arches we see, on looking up,
the vertical shaft, extending upwards to a height nearly
equal to that of the Monument of London. At right
angles to the length of the tunnel daylight is seen
through the horizontal gallery extending to the face
of the cliff. Seven times does this recurrence of the
vertical and lateral cuttings break the gloom and uni-
formity of the tunnel; and if this gloom is not suffi-
cient to damp the curiosity of the visitor, he may pro-
ceed to the other end of the tunnel, where he may see
the extensive preparations for continuing the railroad
along the base of the cliffs close to the sea-shore.

From the perforations themselves we may transfer
our attention to the parti of the upper part of
the cliff. Returning the lantern to the overseer at the
entrance, and climbing up the face of the cliffs east-
ward of it, we get to the greensward above, and then
gradually ascend Shakspere’s Cliff by a pleasant path.
Along the line of the tunnel are to be seen the upper
ends of the seven shafts, all ina direct line, and projecting
about cight or ten feet above the surface of the ground.
From the line of these shafts a short ascent towards
the south brings us to the verv edge of paar where,

292

although we cannot now sec tne “samphire” gatherer
hanging in mid air, we may yet obtain a grand and
beautiful prospect. A walk of about three-quarters of
a mile along the edge of the cliff terminates at a hol-
low which separates Shakspere’s Cliff from another
cliff westward of it, and where, by descending a some-
what dangerous series of stairs or steps cut in the face
of the chalk rock, we may reach the western end of
the tunnel. Beyond this point the sea-wall and road-
way along the base of the cliffs involve works of great
magnitude, and will not be finished for many months.
Sull farther westward may be seen the entrance of
another tunnel, longer than the former, and not yet in
a forward state.

THE TALEGALLA.
(Abridged from the ‘ Penny Cyclcpadia.’}

Talegalla Latham.

(Gould.)

THE Talegalla are a species of Australian birds of the
genus are teet ot which little has been correctly

known till within a recent period. They had been
considered as related to the fainily of vultures. Indeed
Swainson has said :—‘“ In fact, the feet of the two birds
are formed nearly on the same principle ; but, then,
so are those of Orthonyr, a little scansorial bird not
much bigger than arobin. All three genera (of the
Megapodiine), in short, are remarkable for their large
disproportionable feet, long and slightly curved claws,
and the equality of length, or nearly so, of the outer
and the middle toe. It is by instances such as these
that we perceive the full extent of those unnatural
combinations which result from founding our notions
of classifications from one set of characters, and forget-
ting to look at the full consequences of carry those
notions into extended operation. Nor is this the only
peculiarity of the New Holland vulture ; for, unlike
all others of its family, it possesses eighteen feathers in
its tail. An examination of the bill,’ Mr. Swainson
gives a cut of it, “ which is decidedly raptorial, joined
with many other considerations, shows that all these
are but analogical relations to the Rasores, while the
real affinities of the bird are in the circle of the Vudltu-
ride, of which it forms the rasorial type.”
Mr. Gould, to whom we are indebted for a full and
satisfactory account of the habits of this extraordinary
bird, to which we shall presently advert, modestl
says :—‘‘ After all the facts that have been stated,
trust it will be evident that its natural situation is
ainong the Rasores, and that it forms one of a great
family of birds peculiar to Australia and the Indian
Islands, of which Mfegapodius forms a part; and in
confirmation of this view I may add, that the sternum
bas the two deep emarginations so truly characteristic

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

[Jury 30,

of the Gallinacee ; at all events it is in no way allied
to the Vudturide, and is nearly as far removed from
Menura.” Itseems to us that Talegalla Lathami may
be considered, in a degree, as the representative of the
turkey in Australia.

The adult male has the whole of the upper surface,
wings, and tail, of a blackish-brown; the feathers of
the under surface blackish-brown at the base, becom-
ing silvery-grey at the tip; skin of the head and neck
deep pink-red, thinly sprinkled with short hair-like
blackish-brown feathers ; wattle bright ycllow, tinged
with red where it unites with the as of the neck ;
bill black ; irides and feet brown.

The female is about a fourth less than the male in
size, but so closely the same incolour as to render a
separate description unnecessary. She also possesses
the wattle, but not to so great an extent. (Gould.)

Size about that of a turkey.

Mr. Gould describes Talegalla Lathami, or the
Wattled Talegalla, as a gregarious bird, generally
moving about in small companies, much after the
manner of the Gallinacece, and, like some species of
that tribe, as very shy and distrustful. When it is
disturbed, he states that it readily eludes pursuit by
the facility with which it runs through the tangled
brush. If hard pressed, or where rushed upon by their
great enemy, the native dog, the whole company spring
upon the lowermost bough of some neighbouring tree,
and, by a succession of leaps from branch to branch,
ascend to the top, and either perch there or fly off to
another part of the brush. They resort also to the
branches of trees as a shelter from the sun in the
middle of the day, a habit which Mr. Gould notices as
greatly tending to their destruction ; for the sportsman
1s enabled to take a sure ain, and the birds, like the
ruffed grouse of America, will allow a succession of
shots to be fired till they are all brought down.

But the’ most remarkable circumstance connected
with the economy of this bird is its nidification, for it
does not hatch its eggs by incubation. It collects
together a great heap of decaying vegetables as the
place of deposit of its eggs, thus making a hot-bed,
arising froni the decomposition of the collected matter,
by the heat of which the young are hatched. Mr
Gould describes this heap as the result of several
weeks’ collection by the birds previous to the period
of laying, varying in quantity from two to four cart-
loads, and as of a perfectly pyramidical form. This
mound, he states, is not the work of a single pair of
birds, but is the result of the united labour of many :
the same site appeared to Mr. Gould to be resorted to
for several years in succession, from the great size and
entire decomposition of the lower part, the birds add-
ing a fresh supply of matcrials on each occasion pre-
vious to laying.

‘<The mode,” says Mr. Gould in continuation, “ in
which the materials composing these mounds are
accumulated is equally singular, the bird never using
its bill, but always grasping a quantity in its foot,
throwing it backwards to one common centre, and
thus clearing the surface of the ground for a consider-
able distance so completely, that scarcely a leaf ora
blade of grass is left. The heap being accumulated,
and time allowed for a sufficient heat to be engendered,
the eggs are deposited, not side by side, as is ordinarily
the case, but planted at the distance of nine or twelve
inches from each other, and buried at nearly an arm's
depth, perfectly upright, with the large end i abe :
they are covered up as they are laid, and allowed to
remain until hatched. J have been credibly informed,
both by natives and settlers living near their haunts,
that it is not an unusual event to obtain nearly a bushel
of eggs at one time from a single heap; and as they
are dclicious eating, they are eagerly sought after.

1842.]

Some of the natives state that the females are constantly
in the neighbourhood of the heap about the time the
young are likely to be hatched, and frequently uncover
and cover them up again, apparently for the purpose
of assisting those that may have appeared ; while others
have informed me that the eggs are merely deposited,
and the young allowed to force their way unassisted.
In all probability, as nature has adupted this mode of
reproduction, she has also furnished the tender birds
with the power of sustaining themselves from the
earliest period ; and the great size of the eeg would
equally Icad to this conclusion, since in so large a
space it is reasonable to suppose that the bird would
be much more developed than is usually found in eggs
of sinaller dimensions. In further confirmation of this
point, I may add, that in searching for eggs in one of
the mounds, J discovered the remains of a young bird,
apparently just excluded from the shell, and which
was clothed with feathers, not with down, as is usually
the case: it is to be hoped that those who are resident
in Australia, in situations favourable for investigating
the subject, will direct their attention to the further
elucidation of these interesting points. The upright
position of the eggs tends to strengthen the opinion
that they are never disturbed after being deposited, as
it is well known that the eggs of birds which are placed
horizontally are frequently turned during incubation.
Although, unfortunately, J was almost too late for the
breeding-season, I nevertheless saw several of the
heaps, both in the interior and at Illawarra: in every
instance they were placed in the most retired and
shady glens, and on the slupe of a hill, the part above
the nest being scratched clean, while all below re-
mained untouched, as if the birds had found it more
casy to convey the materials down than to throw them
up. In one instance only was I fortunate enough to
find a perfect egg, although the shells of many from
which the young had been excluded were placed in
the manner I have described. At Illawarra they were
rather deposited in the light vegetable mould than
ainong the leaves, which formed a considerable heap
above them. The eggs are perfectly white, of a long,
oval form, three inches aid three-quarters long by
two inches and a half in diameter.” (Birds of
Australia.)

The same author relates that these birds, while stalk-
ing about the wood, frequently utter a loud clucking
huise ; and, in various parts of the bush, he observed
depressions in the earth, which the natives informed
him were made by the birds in dusting themselves.
The stomach is stated by Mr. Gould to be extremely
muscular; and he found the crop of one which he
dissected filled with seeds, berries, and a few insects.

Mr. Gould states that the extent of the range of this
species over Australia is not yet satisfactorily ascer-
taincd. It is known, he says, to inhabit various parts
of New South Wales from Cape Howe on the south to
Moreton Bay on the north; but the cedar-cutters and
others, who so frequently hunt through the brushes of
J]lawarra and Maitland, have nearly extirpated it from
those localities, and it is now most plentiful in the
dense and little-trodden brushes of the Manning and
Clarence. Mr. Gould was at first led to believe that
the country between the mountain-ranges and the
coast constituted its sole habitat ; but he was agreeably
surprised to find it inhabiting the scrubby gullies and
sides of the lower hills that branch off from the great
range into the interior. He procured specimens on
the Brezi range to the north of Liverpool Plains, and
ascertained that it was abundant in all the hills on
either side of the Namoi. (Jbid.)

In the Zeipoa the bill is nearly as long as the head,
slender, tumescent at the base, the edges undulated
and incuryed at the base, the nostrils ample, oblong,

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

293

Leipoa Ocellata. (Gould )
covered with an operculum, and placed in a central

hollow. Head subcrested. Wings ample, rounded,
concave ; fifth primary quill the longest ; the tertiaries
nearly as long as the primaries. Tail rounded, tail-
feathers fourtcen. Tarsi moderate, robust, covered
with scuta anteriorly, and posteriorly with scales which
are rounded and unequal. Toes rather short; lateral
toesnearlyequal. (Gould.) Head and crest blackish-
brown; neck and shoulders dark ash-grey; the fore-
Aa of the neck from the ch'n to the breast marked

y a series of lanceolate feathers, which are black with
a white stripe down the centre ; back and wings con-
spicuously marked with three distinct bands of greyish
white, brown and black near the tip of each feather,
the marks assuming an ocellated form, particularly
on the tips of the secondaries; primarics brown, their
outer webs marked with two or three zigzag lincs near
their tip; all the under surface light buff, the tips of the
flank feathers barred with black; tail blackish-brown,
broadly tipped with buff; bill black ; feet blackish-
brown. (Gould.)

In size this beautiful bird is inferior to Zalegalla
Lathami, and it is more slender and more elegantly
formed.

Mr. Gould, in his ‘ Birds of Australia,’ gives an
account collected by Mr. John Gilbert, from G. Moore,
Esq., advocate-general, Mr. Armstrong, the aboriginal
interpreter, and some of the morc intelligent natives
of Western Australia. The Ocellated Leipoa is there
described as a ground-bird, never taking to a tree
except when closely hunted: when hard pursued it
will frequently run its bead into a bush, and is then
easily taken. Fouod generally consisting of seeds and
berries. The note mournful, very like that of a pigcon,
but with a more inward tone. Eggs depositeg in a
mound of sand, the formation of which 1s the work
of both sexes. According to the natives, the birds
scratch up the sand for many yards around, forming a
mound about three feet in height, the inside of which
is constructed of alternate layers of dried leaves,
grasses, &c., among which twelve eggs and upwards
are deposited, and are covered up by the birds as they
are laid; or, as the natives express it, “the coun-
tenances of the eggs are never visible.” Upon these
eggs the bird never sits, but when she has laid out her
lay, as the henwives say, the whole are covered up,
hei the mound of sand resembles an ant’s nest,
The eggs, which are white, very slightly tinged with
red, and about the size of a common fowls egg, are
hatched by the heat of the sun’s rays, the vegetable
lining retaining sufficient warmth during the night.
they are deposited in layers, no two eggs being suf-
fered to lie without a division. The natives, who are

294 THE PENNY
very fond of the eggs, rob these hillocks two or three
times in a season; and they judge of the number of
eres in a niound by the quantity of feathers lying
about. If the feathers be abundant, the hillock is full ;
and then they inmediately open and take the whole.
The bird will then begin to lay again, again to be
robbed, and will frequently lay a third time. Upon
questioning one of the men attached to Mr. Moore’s
expedition, he gave to Mr. Gilbert a similar account
of ‘its habits and mode of incubating; adding, that in
all the mounds they opened they found ants almost as
numerous as in an ant-hill; and that in many in-
stances that part of the mound surrounding the lower
portion of the eggs had become so hard, that they were
obliged to chip round them with a chisel to get the
eges out: the insides of the mounds were always hot.

Captain Grey, of the 83rd regiment, who had just
returned from his expedition to the north-west coast,
informed Mr. Gould that he had never fallen in with
the nezts but in one description of country, viz. where
the soil was dry and sandy, and so thickly wooded with
a species of dwarf Leptospermum, that if the traveller
strays from the native paths, it is almost impossible for
hin to force his way through. In these close scrubby
woods small open glades occasionally occur, and there
the Ngow-oo constructs its nest,—a large heap of sand,
dead grass and boughs, at least nine feet in diameter
and three feet in height ; Captain Grey had seen them
even larger than this. Upon one occasion only he saw
eggs in these nests: they were placed some distance
from each other, and buried in the earth. Captain
Grey states that he is not sure of the number, but the
account given by the natives led him to believe that at
times large numbers were found.

This bird is found in Western Australia. Mr. Moore
saw a great many of them about sixty miles north of
Perth; but its most favourite country appears to be
the barren sandy plains of the intcrior, one hundred
miles north aaa east of York. The fartnest point
north at which Captain Grey saw the breeding-places
was Gantheaume Bay. Captain Grey statcs that the
natives of King Gcorge’s Sound say that the same or a
nearly allied species exists in that neighbourhood.
(Birds of Australta.)

{To he continued.)

PROVEMENTS IN LIGHT-
HOUSES.
(Concluded from page 287.)

Among the lighthouses and sea-beacons projected and
partially executed within the last few years, those for
the Goodwin Sands deserve atiention from the novel
features which they present.

It may not be amiss to point out the locality and the
nature of the Goodwin Sands, as a means of showing
the importance of sea-lights in that quarter. Nearly
opposite Deal is the commodious roadstead or anchor-
age called the “ Downs,” where ships are accustomed
to assemble before proceeding on a voyage. It is
about eight miles in length and six in width, and
separates the mainland from the * Goodwin Sands,” a
dangerous shoal ten miles in length by two in breadth.
The sands become partially uncovered at low-water ;
the material is soft, porous, and tenacious ; they becoine
hard and firm when the water is off, but the moment
the tide begins to cover them they are again soft, and
shift to and fro with the waves, occasioning a redness
of the water which is plainly discernible from the town
of Deal and the neighbouring shore. Such indeed is
the shifting and loose state of the sands when slightly
covered with water, that it has been asserted if a
ehip of the largest size were to strike on the Goodwin,
it would be so wholly swallowed up by the quicksands,

RECENT IM

MAGAZINE. [Jury 30,
that in a few days no vestige of it would remain to be
seen. Many millions of property have been lost on
these sands, and probably thousands of lives. These
calamities induced the corporation of the Trinity House
in the latter part of the last century to direct their
attention to the practicability of erecting a lighthouse
on the sands. With this view they sent several expe-
rienced engineers to investigate the matter, but the
report was unfavourable and the plan abandoned. A
fluating-light or light-ship was the only safeguard
practically adopted. .

Within the last two or three years, however, two
plans have been suggested and partially acted on, viz.,
the safety-beacon of Captain Bullock, and the fixed
lighthouse of Mr. Bush. The beacon was finished
during the ycar 1840, and consists of a column about
forty feet above tlic level of the sea, surmounted by a
flag-staff ten feet high. There is a gallery large
enough to hold forty persons round the top of the
column, made of sail-cloth, access to which is obtained
by ropes and ‘cleats’ or notches in the side of the
column. <A barrel of fresh water, together with a
painted bag enclosing a flag of distress, 1s stationed on
the gallery ; and the words “ Hoist the flag,” painted
in a great number of languages, on boards placed
round the inner part of the gallery; so that the
foreigner, as well as the native seaman, may be enabled
to show a signal of distress, and obtain help from the
shore, which is about seven miles distant from the
beacon. The mode in which the beacon is fixed on
such a treacherous foundation is the following :—A
stout oak platform is laid severa: feet below the surface
of the sand, and there secured by upwards of three tons
of iron ballast. In the centre of this the stout vertical
coluinn is erected, and supported by eight oblique bars
of iron, which are farther secured by chains passing in
different directions. On the 21st of October, 1810, the
Trinity House issued a notice in which they state—
‘*A beacon has keen experimentally placed on the
south-eastern part of the Goodwin Sands, with the
object of affording means of safety to persons who may
unfortunate.y suffer shipwreck upon parts of these
dangerous sands, from which this beacon is accessible
at low-water; and mariners are hereby cautioned, that
being situate a considcrable distance within the south-
eastern edge of the sand, this beacon is not on any
account to be regarded as a beacon of direction. The
shaft or mast 1s a spar of twelve inches diameter, fitted
with a top-mast, on which a blue flag is to be hoisted
when assistance is required, for which directions are
given in cight different languages. The topmastis kept
struck, to give the beacon the appearance of a rede
and will give warning to those unacquainted with its
position aud character. The gallery 1s an octagon, of
nine feet diameter, is five feet from the top of the mast,
and is capable of containing at least forty persons: it
is seventeen feet six inches above high-water spring-
tides, and thirty feet from the dry sand.”

After the crection of Captain Bullock's beacon,
Lieutenant Worthington proposed an extension of the
idea. His plan was to have an equilateral triangular
frame, fastened by a vertical post in the centre. At
the bottom of this central upright, and of each of the
three posts which form the triangle, were to be large
masses of cast-iron, upon which the superstructure was
to be afterwards built. The iron masses were to be
sunk in the sand, to the depth of a stratum posseszing
more firmness than that which occupies the surface.
It was proposed to be forty feet in height. The
triangular form is calculated to give great stability, as
presenting the least amount of resistance to wind and
sea. No large masses of timber were to be used; and
the angles of the structure were to be so placed as to
be opposite the most open and exposed paris of the

1842.]

horizon. In connection with the platform at the top
might, it was conceived, be provided a light, a boat, a
gun, a bell, a flag-staff, and other requisites for dis-
tressed seamen who might be shipwrecked on the
Goodwin Sands. Nothing, as far as we are aware, has
been done in furtherance of this plan by Lieutenant
Worthington.

In addition to Captain Bullock’s beacon on the
Godwin, which, it will be understood, 1s only a place
of refuge, plans are in progress for building a per-
manent lighthouse on the sands. In the year 1836
Mr. Bush, civil engineer, submitted to a committce
of the House of Commons on shipwrecks, a very sin-
gular plan, of which the following is an outline :—
He proposed to build, on land, a wooden truncated
cone, one hundred fect high, sixty feet diameter at the
bottom, and twenty fect at the top. Around this was
to be built another, touching it at the lower extremity,
but receding from it upwards; and this intervening
space was to be filled with sand or other materials to
such a degree as to cause the whole to sink into the
sea. It was to be sunk to such a depth as to have the
top level with the highest water-mark; the sand was
then to be drawn out from the inner cone, and its
place supplied with masonry or concrete. This was
to form a solid foundation, whcreon was to be erected
a cast-iron lighthouse one hundred feet high; so that
the whole structure would be two hundred feet from
the base of the cone to the top of the lantern. When
thus far completed, the outer cone, which was only
intended to facilitate the adjustinent of the inner one,
was to be removed. ‘The cone, when filled in with
granite, was estimated as likely to weigh about nine
thousand tons.

Such was the plan submitted to the Trinity House,
and to the committee of the House of Commons, about
six years ago. Since then it has begun to be adopted
in an altered form. The journals during the past
year have contained many notices of Mr. Bush’s pre-
sent project, which may be shortly described as fol-
lows :—At the Thorncliffe iron-works, near Rotherham,
in Yorkshire, has been cast an immense cylindrical
caisson, or hollow case, sixty-four feet in height and
thirty in diameter. This is to be sunk in the sands,
and on it, as a base, erected a lighthouse, consisting of
a column eighty-six feet in height, and a light-room
and surmounting statue rising forty fect more. The
weight of the lower shaft alone is estimated at a hun-
dred and twenty tons. In the main shaft or column there
is to be a cell large enough to hold one hundred men,
with provisions, storehouses, magazines, &c. The cais-
son or lower shaft was to have heen floated out to the
sands, preparatory to being sunk, last autumn; but cir-
cumstances occurred which rendered a postponement
necessary till the present year. We believe that the
sinking of the caisson has not yet actually taken place.

The details given in the last paper, coupled with
those bere presented, will show that two totally dif-
ferent plans are now in agitation for the erection of
lichthouses on a loose sandy foundation ; the one being
the insertion of screw-piles into the sand, as a foun-
dation for a superstructure, and the other being the
sinking of a heavy hollow case asa foundation. The
experience of future years must show which of these
methods possesses the larger share of advantages; the
least expensive will in all probability be the screw-
pile method.

Not the least curious among the lighthouse opera-
tions exhibited within the last two or three years, is
the absolute removal of an entire lighthouse from one
spot to another, without the disrupture or injury of
any of its parts.*

* This fact was alluded to in our recent pages on the ‘ Ame-
rican Method of moving Houses.’

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

205

In the year 1803 a lighthouse was built by the late
Mr. Pickernell on the northern pier at Sunderlaud.
It is wholly composed of stone: its form is octagonal,
fifteen fect in breadth across its base, nine feet across
at the top, and about eighty feet high to the summit.
During the month of May last year, a plan was under
the consideration of the commissioners of the river
Wear to pull down this lighthouse, and to re-erect it
on the eastern extremity of the pier, a spot distant five
hundred feet from the former locality. Mr. Murray,
however, a civil engineer, conceived the practicability
of removing the entire lighthouse this distance with-
out destroying or endangering it. He submitted the
following plan :—‘ The masonry was to be cut through
near its foundation, and whole timbers were to be in-
serted, one after another, through the building, and
extending seven feet beyond it. Above and at right
angles to them, another tier of timber was to be in-
serted in like manner, so as to make the cradle or base
a square of twenty feet; which cradle was to be sup-
ported upon bearers, with about two hundred and fifty
wheels of six inches diaincter, and was to traverse on
six lines of railway, to be laid on the new pier for that
purpose. The shaft of the lighthouse was to be ticd
together with bands, and its eight sides supported with
timber braces from the cradle upwards to the cornice.
The cradle was to be drawn and pushed forward by
oo screws along the railway, on the principle of

orton’s patent slip for repairing vessels.” This was
the plan proposed, and was acted on throughout, with
the exception of a windlass and rope, worked by thirty
men, being substituted for screws. By making open-
ings transversely through the masonry near the bot-
tom, and by inserting stout timbers through them, the
structure acquired by degrees an artificial bottom
formed of timber; and this timber flooring being
moved along a railway by means of wheels, was the
means of transporting the bulky burden to its new
locality. It is said that there was not a crack, nor any
appearance of settlement, throughout the whole build-
ing after the removal.

A suggestion was made about two years ago by
Captain Basil Hall, ina letter addressed to the ‘ United
Service Journal,’ which may hereafter be of import-
ance in reference to the management of the lights in
lighthouses. In order to render his meaning clear,
he drew attention to the varietics observed in light-
houses, according to the precise purpose of each. If
a lighthouse were required to be viewed from one
point only, a fixed bright light visible in that direction
would be all that was necessary ; but it will often happen
that circumstances require the light to be scen from
every point of the horizon. Thus the Eddystone, the
Scilly, the Bell Rock, and many other lighthouses
must be rendered equally visible from whatever quar-
ter they may be vicwed; for if any point be left out,
a ship sailing in that direction would be left without a
guide. In the case first mentioned the inatter is of
little difficulty, for if one or more Argand lamps be
placed in the foci of parabolic reflectors, adjusted so
that their axes may be turned in the required direc-
tion, a steady light, of more or less magnitude, be-
comes visible in that quarter. But in the second case
the difficulty is much greater, for as ay lamps,
aided by as many reflectors, are required as the points
of the compass to be illuminated. Even this does not
remove the evil, for the effect of a parabolic reflector
is to send out the rays of light in one direction only ;
so that if we had twenty-four lamps in a circle,
although they would light twenty-four different parts
of the horizon, yet there would be twenty-four dark
portions alternating with those which are illuminated.

This difficulty, as well as the dimness of the light
when the lamps were so scattered, has led to the plan

296 THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

of revolving lights. “ Captain Hall supposes as an
illustrative instance, that we have twenty-four lamps
in the lighthouse, ranged not equidistant round every

point of the horizon, but six directed by means of

their reflectors due north, six more due south, six east,

and six west; thereby presenting a brilliant flood of

light in those four directions. He then proceeds :—
“If that part of the lighthouse upon which the four
sets of lamps are fixed be so contrived as to turn round
on a Vertical axis, the four concentrated blazes of light
cast from the different sets of lamps, instead of illumi-
nating only the four cardinal points of the compass,
will now light up, tm successton, every part of the
whole circuit of the horizon. Of course every ship,
however situated with respect to the lighthouse, will in
her turn be favoured with a brilliant though transient
blaze of light, six times greater in splendour than she
could have received from the fixed light first de-
scribed.”

Such a hght as the one here described is called a

“revolving” light, of which there are about twenty-

five among the two hundred lighthouses on and around

the British Islands. Captain Hall then explains why

these improved lights are not more frequently em-
ployed ; because it is necessary that two lights, com-

paratively near each other, should be of different cha-

racter, in order that mariners may not confound one
with the other at night. This difficulty is exemplified
by alluding tothe dangers which may accrue if the
lighthouses at Scilly and at the Land’s End both had

revolving lights: as it is, the former of these is revolv-

ing, and the latter fixed; and although the latter is
mitch inferior to the former, yet it is better than an-
other revolving light would be at that spot, on account
of the liability of mistakes in such a case. Captain
Ifall's suggestion is, that a fixed light, or rather a
siigle light, should be made to rotate on its axis with
such rapidity as to exhibit a line of light all along its
path; on the principle of a burning stick whirled
yapidly round in a circle. If this could be accom-
plished, the resulting light would be contiguous in
every direction, and not intermitting, as a “ revolving”
ight of the usual kind necessarily must be. Captain
Fall does not enter into the mechanical difficulties of the
matter, but throws out the suggestion for the conside-
ration of engineers generally ; expressing a conviction
that “if the principle involved in the first inquiry
(7. &. the production of a continuous horizontal circle
of light by rapid revolution) were once established to
be true, the ingenuity of practical men, and the im-
portant advantages arising from the discovery, would
readily devise mechanical means of carrying it into
effect.”

Grecian Agriculture.—¥ have before mentioned that the agri-
cultural implements of the Greeks are exceedingly defective.
The plough is the same as that described by Hesiod three thou-
sand years ago; a simple piece of crooked timbcg, with only
one shaft, and the ploughshare made of hard oad. sometimes
tipped with iron. The harrow, the roller, the tormentor, the
thrashing and wimowing machines, are perfectly unknown in
Greece. The thrashing-floors, which generally belong to the
commune, are circular pavements of about twenty yards in
diameter, with a stake in the centre, and usually in an elevated
position, to catch the wind, which is the Grecian winnowing-
fan, To this stake are tied half-a-dozen horses, oxen, mules,
and asses indiscriminately, and hamessed abreast, or rather tied
together by a rope round the neck. The corn being strewed all
over the floor, the cattle are placed at the outer circumference,
and driven sound and round, their circle becoming smaller aud
smaller every time, by the rope coiling itself round the post,
till they necessarily come toa halt in the ceutre. They are
then turned round, each cireuit then extending by the cord
unwinding, till they again reach the cdge of the pavement. In
this manner the com ia “trodden out;" aud it may be remarked
that the Greeks rigidly observe to the letter the Scriptural

{Jury 30, 1842.

injunction, “Thou shalt not muzzle the ox that treadeth out the
corn.’’—Sérong's Greece.

The City of Hayti.—Instead of a handsome city, such as it
appears from the ship's deck at sea, rising on a gradual eleva-
tion from the shore, and adorned with good houses and gardene,
you enter into streets of wooden buildings, with the pavement
dislocated or broken. up, the drains neglected, and filth and
stable dung interrupting your steps in every direction. The

uay is spacious, but the water is shallow near the slore; and
all sorts of uncleanness are suffered to annoy the senses. A con-
stant malaria is the consequence, which at certain seasons of thie
year renders the lower quarter of the city very sickly, and occa-
sions much mortality among the sailors trom foreign parts.
Port-au-Prince, with all its advantages of situation, with every
inherent capability of being made and kept delightfully clean,
is perhaps the {filthiest capital in the world. The houses in
general are of two stories, built slightly of wood, to avoid the
rend and tear occasioned by earthquakes, which at different
times have nearly demolished the city. Some few of the better
habitations are of brick or stone, and may be called handsome
edifices. The Senate-house is a plain substantial building, with
no pretension to splendour; and the palace of the President, the
largest edifice in the city, was built by the English, for the
general's head-quarters, during their temporary occupation of
the south of the island; and is, therefore, as little like a royal
palace as any republican could desire. The Haytien flag, of
red and blue, floats on its turrets; and it has in front a spacions
court, in which are lodges for the military guard of horse and
foot, who are constantly on duty. These are the orly public
buildings worthy of notice. The Roman Catholic churoh is a
capacious structure, but very plain and homely.—Brief Notices
of Hayti, by John Candler.

To preserve Flowers fresh.—It is now, alas! a long eigliteen
years ago since we first saw, in the drawing-room of a gentleman
now no more, in the hot, dry weather of the dog-days, flowers
preserved day after day in all their freshness by the following
simple contrivance :—A flat dish of porcelain had water poured
into it. In the water a vase of flowers was set; over the whole
a bell-glass was placed with its rim in the water. This was a
‘Ward's case’ in principle, although different in its construction.
The air that surrounded the flowers, being confined beneath the
bell-glass, was constantly moist with the water that rose into it
in the form of vapour. As fast as the water was condensed it
ran down the sides of the bell-glass back into the dish; and, if
means had been taken to enclose the water on the outside of the
bell-glass, so as to prevent its evaporating into the air of the
sitting-room, tlre atmosphere around the flowers would have re-
mained continually damp. What is the explanation of this?
Do the flowers feed on the viewless vapour that surrounds them ?
Perhaps they do; but the great cause of their preserving their
freshness is to be sought im another fact. When flowers are
brought into a sitting-room they fade, because of the dryness of
the air. The air of asitting-room is usually something dricr
than that of the garden, and always much more so than that of
a good green-house or stove. Flowers when gathered are cut off
from the supply of moisture collected for them by their roots. and
their mutilated stems are far from havirg so great a power of
sucking up fluids as the roots have. If, then, with diminished
powers of feeding they are exposed to augmented perspiration, as
is the case in a dry sitting-room, it is evident that the balance of
gain on the one hand by the rovts, and of loss on the other hand
by their whole surface, cannot be maintained. The result can
only be their destruction. Now, to place them in a damp at-
mosphere is to restore this balance; because, if their power of
sucking by their wounded ends is diminished, so is their power
of perspiring; for a damp atmosphere will rob them of no water.
Hence they maintain their freshness, The ouly difference be-
tween plants in a ‘Ward's case’ and flowers in the little appa-
ratus just described is this—that the former is intended for
ene to grow in for a considerable space of time, while the
atter is merely for their preservation for a few days; and that
the air which surrounds he flowers ig always charged with the
same quantity of vapour, but will vary with the circumstances,
and at the will of him who has the management of it. We recom-
mend those who love to see plenty of fresh flowers in their
sitting-rooms in dry weather to procure it. The experiment
can be tried by inserting a tumbler over a rosebud in a saucer
of water.—Gardeners’ Chronicle.

SuPPLEMENT. ]

A DAY AT A

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THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

297

DISTILLERY.

_Messrs. Smith and Co.'s Distillery, Thames Bank._

THE subject of the present Supplement takes us up
the river to the vicinity of Chelsea. Let us, then, get
on board one of the little river-steamers, and proceed
in that direction.

After passing Vauxhall Bridge, we stop for a few
moments—as everybody now knows—at the Nine-Elms
pier, and thence proceed onward towards the termi-
nation of the route at Chelsea. On the left we pass
the South London Water-works, as well as factories,
warehouses, and wharfs of different kinds; and then
arrive at the river-side house so well known to all
amateur boatmen as the ‘Red House.’ On the right,
after passing a gas-factory, we see the noble manu-
facturing premises of Messrs, Cubitt, the builders,
with the chimney inclosed in a decorated square
tower. Then we come to the London Steel-works;
beyond which is the Belgrave Dock; and westward of
both are two tall chimneys, one of which points out
the Chelsea Water-works, and the other the distillery
of Messrs. Octavius Smith and Co., the establishment
to which our attention is here directed. This latter-
named chimney is conspicuous from the river on ac-
count of its proportions; the celebrated obelisk called
‘Cleopatra’s Needle’ having been taken as a model in
its construction. The river-front of this factory pre-
sents to view a dock, whereinto barges laden with
ache and coals for the factory are conveyed tu be un-

en,

The entrance to the distillery is on the eastern z'de,
and on entering the outer gates we find ourselves

No. 663,

in an irregularly-shaped open court, surrounded by
buildings, of which seeeeat are seen in the frontis-
piece. On the left are Jarge granaries, where the
grain, after beiiig hoisted from barges in the dock, is
stored. Beyond these we see various buildings con-
nected with the still-room, comprising a cylindrical
worm-tub of very large dimensions, water-tanks and
cooling-tanks at a considerable elevation, store-ware-
houses, &c. In front are the offices and counting-
houses; bounded on the right by various workshops
for smiths, millwrights, coppersmiths, carpenters, and
others engaged in the repair and adjustment of the
apparatus used in the distillery. On the right of the
entrance, and extending to a considerable distance
northward, are the mill and the brewhouse, wherein all
those operations are conducted which precede the actual
distillation. Stables and other outhouses occupy other
parts of the area; while the open court presents a busy
scene of traffic: here waggons being laden with casks
about to leave the distillery; at another spot yeast
being brought in from the great London breweries ;
at a third, ‘grains’ being carted for conveyance to
the dairies; and at a fourth, men filling barrels with
‘spent-wash,’ to be carried away as a fattening ingre-
dient for cattle and pigs. .

Before describing the operations of this establish-
ment, which we have been permitted to do by the
liberality of the proprietors, it may be well to explain
briefly what is meant by the terms ‘distillation ° and
‘distillery.’ All kinds of grain, such as wheat, rye,

298 THE PENNY

barley, oats, &c., whether in the raw or the malted
state, as well as the juices of fruits, of the sugar-cane,
of potatoes, of beet-root, and of many other vegetable
substances, contain certain elements which, by peculiar
processes, are capable of being converted into alcohol or
spirit. Distillation always forms one of these opera-
tions; but it is preceded by others which vary accord-
ing to the nature of the ingredients employed. The
various liquids known by the names of brandy, rum,
whiskey, hollands, gin, spirits of wine, cordials, and
compounds, all contain the alcoholic principle, deve-
loped by the process of distillation. French brandy is
produced from wine; West Indian rum from sugar
or molasses; and British spirit, whether called b
the name of spirit of wine, British brandy, Britis
rum, whiskey, or gin, from corn. In every case the
substance which undergoes the process of distillation
is a sweet liquid; but the means whereby this sweet-
ness or saccharine quality is brought about differ
according to circumstances. The different qualities
presented by these various liquids depend partly on the
alcoholic strength, partly on the substances whence they
are produced, partly on the berries, herbs, and seeds
with which they are flavoured, and partly on the mode
in which the manufacture is conducted.

We are prepared to understand, then, that the opera-
tions of a British distillery relate to the extraction of
the alcoholic principle from various kinds of grain.
We must next bear in mind, that the extract produced
from this grain is brewed before being distilled : it is
in fact converted intoa kind of beer before that change
is induced which leads to the production of spirit.
Hence it follows that many of the operations of a dis-
tillery resemble those of a brewery. The brewer and
the distiller alike extract a saccharine substance from
frain (principally malted in respect to brewing, but
more generally raw for distilling), by the ptocess of
‘mashing ;’ and alike subject this sweet liquid, called
‘worts,’ to fermentation. The fermented liquor,
. modified in a particular way, forms ‘beer’ at the
brewery; whereas in a distillery it obtains the name
of ‘wash,’ and is the liquid which undergoes the sub-
sequent process of distillation.

The staple ingredient, then, at the distillery, is grain,
and this is brought into the establishment to which
our attention will be now directed in barges belong-
ing to the firm. These barges are laden from the
vessels which bring the grain from various ports,
the grain being brought in sacks containing four
busbels each. The dock is contrived so judiciously that
the barges can float in at high-water, and pass imme-
' diately under the granary, into which the sacks are
hoisted from the barge by means of tackle of the usual
kind. The granary is a large brick building, having
three extensive floors, on which the grain is stored.
Malt is barley which has undergone, ou the premises
of the maltster, a process calculated to render it more
fitted for the purposes of the brewer than barley or
other grain in the raw or unmalted state; but the dis-
tiller can employ either raw or malted grain according
to circumstances. Malt being much more expen-
sive on account of the duty, than raw grain, the dis-
tiller usually employs as little of the former as the
nature of the process requires. The proportion is now
frequently one part of malt to ten or twelve of raw
frain; theraw grain being varying mixtures of wheat,
barley, rye, and oats, according to the state of the mar-
ket; but more than half of the entire ingredients is
generally raw barley.

On one of the granary floors we saw a heap of about
two thousand quarters of kiln-dried barley, lying ina
stratum five fect thick, and waiting to be conveyed to
the mill. All the grain required at the distillery, about
forty thousand quarters per annum, passes thus through

MAGAZINE.

the granary ; and when about to be ground into meal, jt
is conveyed to a room immediately over the mill-room,
and discharged through trap-doors in the floor into
cloth pipes, which conduct it to the millstones. To
the mill-room we next descend; where we see six
pairs of mill-stones, ranged in a circle, and set in mo-
tion by a shaft from the steam-engine rising up in the
centre of the group. These six pairs of stones, kept
wholly or partially at work according to circumstances,

rind allthe raw grain; while the malt is passed
through a ‘crushing-mill,’ consisting mainly of two
rollers placed nearly in contact. The object of this
difference is, that the distiller requires to crush the
malt, instead of grinding it; the internal substance
being by this means softened or disintegrated without
cutting the husk, a precaution which is not found
necessary in the case of raw grain.

A visitor must expect to leave this mill-room as
white asa miller; nor is he less plentifully sprinkled
with meal when he descends to the room beneath.
This lower room contains a vertical cylindrical parti-
tion, having within it the mechanism whereby the
millstones are rotated in the room above. and around

(Jury, 1842

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SurPLEMENT. ]

it pipes or openings, through which the ground meal
descends from the mills. The mill-men fasten sacks
to these openings, and thus receive the meal as it
descends heated to a temperature of perhaps 100° by
the friction of the stones. The preceding cut represents
the general nature of the operations in both these
floors of the mill: the upper division showing the
operation of the millstones in the room above; and
the lower showing the reception of the ground meal in
the room beneath.

We next trace the meal, thus ground, to the brew-
house, through a gallery or covered way, leading from
the south to the north department of the establishment.
_ In this brewhouse are three large coppers, each pro-

vided with a fireplace underneath, and the whole
capable of containing about fifty thousand gallons;
these are for the purpose of heating the water where-
with the brewing process is effected. The most im-
portant vessels in the brewhouse are the ‘ mash-tuns,’
two in number: these are cast-iron circular vessels,
bebe of twenty feet in diameter, and each capable
of containing twenty thousand gallons; each is pro-
vided with a double bottom, one above the other,
having a small vacancy between them, and the upper
one being pierced with small holes an inch or two
apart. From the middle of each tun rises a vertical
shaft, set in motion by a steam-engine, and acting
upon horizontal arms, studded with spikes or pins on
all sides: this apparatus, by rotating both horizontally
and vertically, effectually stirs and agitates any ingre-
dients which may be in the tun.

All being ready for the brewing, hot water is
admitted to the ‘ mash-tuns’ by pipes Icading from the
coppers ; while ground meal 1s thrown in at the open
top of each tun. The sacks of ground meal are stored
in the mill adjoining the brewhouse, and are from
thence wheeled to the tun on low hand-carriages.
This is a very bustling scene when a ‘mashing’ is
about to commence, ten or a dozen men being em-
ployed to wheel in the sacks, discharge the meal, and
return for another cargo. We may here remark that
the water is conveyed to the coppers from a very large
cast-iron tank, or ‘liquor-back,’ on another part of the
premises: it is pumped into this tank from a reser-
voir sunk below the level of the ground in the north-
west part of the premises, the reservoir being supplied
by a pipe leading from the Thames at a point within
the limits of low-water ; so that a constant supply of
water is thus obtained.

The crushed malt, the ground grain, and the hot
water, being admitted into the tuns in the requisite
proportions, the rotating stirrer or ‘mashing-machine’
1s put into action, whereby the solid and liquid ingre-
dients are so completely mixed up together, that the
water is enabled to extract the saccharine elements
from the meal. Men are also employed with long-
handled instruments to stir the sediment, which might
otherwise remain at the bottom; anda scene is then
presented such as is shown in the cut at the top of the
next page. These operations continue for two or three

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

299

hours, during which a striking chemical change has
been goingon. Meal consists principally of gluten and
starch ; and by the agency oF water and a sufficient
temperature this starch becomes converted into sugar.
The precise explanation of this change involves chemi-
cal niceties into which we need not enter; but it will
be sufficient to say, that the water, converted into
‘worts’ by the process of mashing, acquires a swect
though sickly taste, arising from the starch of the meal
having been converted into sugar.

When the ‘ mashing’ has been continued to acertain
extent, five or six pipes are opened, through which the
‘worts’ are allowed to flow into cast-iron cisterns
called ‘under-backs,’ in a cellar beneath. The meal
is retained by the upper or false bottom of the mash-
tun, which thus acts as a sieve or strainer, allowing
nothing but liquid to pass through the perforations.
The meal does not lose all its saccharine quality by
this first mashing: it is therefore ‘mashed’ a second
and a third time, in fresh portions of water ; producing
‘ worts’ of less and less strength. As to the number of
times that the mashing is repeated, the quantity of
water used for a given weight of meal at each mash-
ing, the temperature of the water, and the length of
time during which the mashing is continued—these
are points on which each individual manufacturer
exercises his skill and judgment, and may possibly
vary considerably in different establishments. When
the saccharine qualities of the meal are as far as possi-
ble extracted, the residue, under the name of ‘ grains,”
is carried out to the grain-stage, in the yard of the
distillery, thence to be sold as food for cattle.

From the under-backs, the ‘worts’ are pumped up
to the coolers or cooling-floors, occupying the upper
portion of a building contiguous to the brewhouse on
the north. These floors are covered or paved with
cast-iron plates, three or four feet square, and joined
edge to edge; raised ledges are placed across the
floors at certain distances, to divide them into com-

rtments; and into the shallow cells or trays thus
ormed the hot wort is introduced. The whole floor,
upwards of a hundred and fifty feet in length, becomes
thus covered with a stratum of hot liquor five or six
inches deep; which is speedily cooled by the access of
air from open windows on all sides of the coolers.
This speedy cooling is necessary to prevent the acidifi-
cation of the sweet wort, a result which has a tendenc
to follow when the cooling is too slowly effected.
There are two of these cooling-floors, both paved with
cast-iron plates, and both arranged in a similar
manner. Such a mode of cooling is very prevalently
adopted in the large breweries and distilleries ; though
in some cases ‘refrigerators’ are employed, in which
the hot wort passes through pipes exposed externally
toa current of cold water. It is merely a question of
expediency as to which method is employed; for the
principle is the same in both cases, viz., the rapid
abstraction of heat by a medium colder than the wort
itself. In the adjoining cut we have represented one
of these floors, covered with the hot liquid, and sup-

(Coolins-floor.)_

(Mash-tun.,
plied with certain pieces of apparatus whereby a cur-
rent of cool air is more effectually kept up.

From the coolers the wort descends into the ‘fer-
menting-backs,’ a series of square vessels of enormous
dimensions: they are sixteen in number, each about
thirty feet long and half as wide, having an agere-

gate capacity of nearly half a million gallons. Here
the liquid is exposed to the action of yeast, bought for
that purpose of the great porter-brewers: the alcoholic
fermentation ensues, whereby the sugar, which had
been developed from the grain during the process of
mashing, becomes converted into alcohol or spirit. This
is one of the most delicate of all the operations, whe-
ther in a brewery or a distillery, requiring extensive
knowledge both of the principles of chemistry and of

ractical results. The nature of the process may be

riefly explained as follows:—The wort, in conse-
quence of containing a considerable amount of saccha-
rine matter in solution, 1s heavier than water ; and the
manufacturers express the degrec of density by stating
how many pounds heavier a barrel of wort is than a
barrel of water. Whatever may be the strength of
the wort actually obtained in any one mashing, the
distiller is confined to certain limits when he trans-
fers the mingled wort to the fermenting-tun; for
he is obliged by law to bring the wort to a specific
gravity somewhere between 1°050 and 1-090, water
being 1-000. This specific gravity becomes gradually
lessened in the fermenting-backs, by the gradual con-
version of the sugar into alcohol; this latter-named
liquid being very much lighter than water. The
specific gravity is in fact brought down very near to
that of distilled water, and the wort, now denominated
‘wash,’ may be considered as a mixture of alcohol and
water, containing a small quantity of an essential oil,
a little saccharine matter, and one or two other
substances.

We now come to that part of the distiller’s opera-
tions where it is desirable to speak of the relations
between the manufacturer and the Excise. The
system of supervision whereby the revenue in spirits
18 collected is a remarkable instance of Ixcise imachi-
nery ; a supervision rendered important by the large
revenue annually collected, and by the comparatively
small number of establishments from which the pay-
ments are made. The single firm whose eatablis -
ment forms the subject of our present notice pays no
less a sun than 300,000/. a year to government in
duty on the spirits manufactured ; and as the duty per
gallon is estimated on spirits of onc particular degree

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

(Jury, 1842.

of strength, the utmost caution is necessary in testing
the strength of all the spirits produced, as a guarantee
that all the spirit produced shall pay a duty exactly
proportionate both to its quantity and itsstrength. As
arents on the part of the government, there are excise-
officers almost constantly present at every distillery,
day and night. They succeed each other, one or more
at a time as may be necessary, after intervals of cight
hours; the periods being from six in the morning till
two in the afternoon, from thence to ten at night, and
from thence to six the next morning. |
The act of parliament by which distilleries are now
regulated was passed in 1825. By its provisions no
distiller is allowed to commenice operations till he has
procured a licence, which licence is to be renewed
annually ; nor is he allowed to keep on his premises
a still below a certain capacity. The number of
stills, charges, receivers, &c. employed by him is also
placed under certain restrictions; and the precise
routine is marked out as to the mode in which the
liquid shall pass from one vessel to another in the
process of distillation. The number of openings in
the principal vessels is expressly stated; and the most
scrupulous care is taken that nothing shall pass from
one vesse] to another without flowing through a pipe
provided with a cock or valve of which the excise-
officer has the key. Heis provided with keys whereby
he can lock up the furnace-doors, lock up the stills,
and in fact exercise a most thorough control over all
the operations. Inorder further to facilitate the super-
vision of the excise-officers, the brewing and the dis-
tilling take place in alternate periods; one portion of
trme being appropriated to the preparation of ‘ wash,’
or ‘fermented wort,’ in the brewery, and the next
to distillation of spirit from the wash thus produced.
On paying a visit to a distillery, therefore, we are
sure to find one-half of the operations suspended,
according as it may happen to be brewing-time or
distilling-time. These complex arrangements arise
principally out of the peculiar mode in which the duty
1s estimated, for not only is the spirit tested as to quantity
and strength, during and after the process of distillation,
but the specific gravity of the ‘ wort’ and of the ‘ wash’
is taken, the one heavy and the other light, and an
assumption is made that a given quantity of spirit will
result from a given difference in these two specific
gravities. If it happens that the actual quantity of
spirit, ascertained after the distillation, differs from
the hypothetical quantity arising from the previous
calculations of the officer, he gives to the governinent
the ‘ benefit of the doubt,” and charges duty on the
higher quantity, whichever that may happen to be.
The mode in which this double mode of computation
is likely to check improvements in manufacture forms
a delicate subject into which we cannot here enter.
We shall now be prepared to follow a routine of
processes in which the excise-officer is an important
personage. We have explained that the ‘wort,’ or
sweet liquor arising from the mashing, ferments in the
fermenting-backs until its specific gravity is greatly
reduced, and its saccharine quality exchanged for one
more alcoholic. This liquid, now called ‘ wash,’ is con-
veyed to a vessel called the ‘ wash-charger,’ as the first
step in the distilling process. In order that the in-
tentions of the law may be carried out, which pro-
hibit the simultaneous brewing and distilling in one
establishment, the buildings are detached, or at Icast
conveniently divided. The still-house, to which we
now transfer our attention, is a large, irregular build-
ing occupied by the vessels immediately connected
with the distillation; the principal of these vessels
being called ‘ chargers,’ ‘ stills,’ and ‘reccivers,’ the
first to supply the second, and the third to receive the
product. glance through this building enables us

SuPPLEMENT. |

to observe that the re of which a large quantity is
visible, are painted of different colours: this ius
trates another of the peculiar rules whereby the
operations of a distillery are governed; for in order
to facilitate the supervision of the officer, and to enable
him to trace the routine of proccsses cenveniently,
the legislature requires that every pipe for the con-
veyance of water shall be painted d/ack, those for
the conveyance of ‘ wort’ or ‘ wash’ red, those for the
product of the first distillation d/ue, and those for
the finished spirit white. Another regulation is,
that whatever may be the size and arrangement of the
distillery, ladders and all other conveniencics shall be
provided for the easy access of the officer to all the
different vessels.

The ‘ wash-charger,’ into which the wash is conveyed
from the fermenting-vessels, is a large fron tank or
closed cistern capable of containing about thirty thou-
sand gallons. By the express terins of the law, this
vessel must be entirely closed in, and must communi-
cate only with the fermenting-vessel and with the still,
so that nothing can flow into it except from the former,
and nothing flow out of it except into the latter. In
the top or cover is a small hole, about an inch square,
into which the officer dips a graduated rod; the object
being to determine whether the quantity entering this
vessel is the same as had bcen contained in the fer-
menting-backs. The officer keeps the key of the cocks
or valves leading into and from this vessel, whercby
nothing can enter the still until he has unlocked the
requisite pipes. The annexed cut represents one of

rWash-still.]
the two large wash-stills into which the wash flows

from the wash-charger. This is a copper vessel capable
of containing more than twenty thousand gallons. It

is heated by a fire beneath, and is terminated at the
top by a cover, which gradually decreases in diameter,
and at length joins the ‘worm, of which we shall
presently speak. The still is formed of plates of copper
firmly riveted, and otherwise so contrived as to be air
and water tight.

We must now consider briefly the nature of the
process carried on in the large still. The ‘ wash’ con-
veyed into it consists ae of alcohol and water, in
the proportion (gencrally) of about six gallons of pure
alcohol. or twelve gallons of ‘ ad spirit,’ in a hundred
gallons of wash ; ‘ proof spirit’ being composed of about

rR SS Pc SF Si Se un PE SC en i = A

THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 301

equal parts of alcohol and water. Water passes off in the
form of vapour at a temperature of 212°; while alcohol
does the same at the low temperature of about 180°;
and the distiller avails himself of this circumstance to
effect a separation of the two liquids.
to the still, by which the ‘wash’ is gradually heatcd ;
and when the temperature attains 180°, the alcohol
begins to vaporise and to ascend to the top of the still.
The heat is kept up to some point between the two
extremes of 180° and 212°, until all the alcohol has
passed off in the state of vapour. But during this
rocess, partly on account of the restrictions iinposed
y the legislature, and partly through the scientific
difficulties of the subject, a considerable quantity of
water passes off with the spirit and mingles with it in
the form of vapour. In Francé, where the operations
of a distillery are not so rigidly controlled by the
government as in England, improvements in great
number have been from time to time introduced, with
a view of effecting a complete separation of the two
liquids in one operation: to what extent and under
what limitations these attempts have succeeded, we
need not discuss here; it will suffice to state that in
England so much aqueous vapour passes over with the
alcohol, as to render this Jatter comparatively weak.
When all the alcoholic ingredient is distilled from the
wash, the latter, under the name of ‘spent wash,’ is
conveyed from the still toa large open vessel in the
yard of the distillery. It is thence carried away in
barrels by persons who keep cattle or pigs: the dry
food of these animals, being sprinkled with some of
the spent wash, acquires a fattening quality, which
gives a value to the liquid after it has ccased to possess
a to the distiller.
ut it may now be asked, what becomes of the alco-
holic vapour driven off by the heat of the still? The
answer to this question forms the next step in our
routine of processes. In the frontispicce is seen a
very large cylindrical vesse] near the chimney. This
is called the ‘worm-tub,’ and contains the means for
condensing the vapour after it has ascended from the
still. This large vessel, which is between thirty and
forty feet in height, contains a worm, or coil of copper-
pipe, circling round it in a screw-like form from top
to bottom. This pipe is not much less than two feet
diameter where it enters the worm-tub, but graduall
diminishes as it descends, till it leaves the vessel wit
a diameter of less than two inches. The vacant space
of the worm-tub, not occupied by the pipe, 1s filled up
with water, which is constantly flowing in from a
water-tank, or ‘ liquor-back,’ at the top of the still-
house, an overflow from the top being necessarily pro-
vided for. All the vapour which ascends from the
still passcs into and through this worm or coil of pipe,
and in its passage becomes condensed into a liquid by
the coldness of the water contained in the worm-tub.
Whenever vapour is condensed into liquid, a large
amount of latent heat is given out; and as this occurs
during the condensation of the vapour in the worm,
the water in the worm-tub becomes gradually heated,
until at length its temperature would be such as to
unfit it for the office of a refrigerator, were there not
a constant supply of cold water flowing in, and an
equal quantity of heated water flowing out. The rate
of change is so regulated as to keep the water in the
worm-tub at as low a temperature as possible. There
is another arrangement of worm connected with one
or two of the stills, although the principle is the
same. We pass up through the still-house to the
roof, and there find that a large area is occupied
by tanks or square cisterns, through which cold
water is constantly flowing from the reservoir. The
pipe forming the worm coils round and round in
these tanks, gradually parting with its heat to the

He dae fire -

302 THE PENNY
water by which it is surrounded, and thus condenses
the spirituous vapour passing through the worm from
the still. By an ingenious arrangement the water,
when too hot for the purpose of condensation, is al-
lowed to fall on the float-boards of a large water-wheel,
which thus furnishes moving-power for some of the
pumps in the still-house.

The liquid which flows out at the lower end of the
worm is called, in the language of the distillery, ‘low-
wines :’ it isa very weak kind of spirit, containing all
the alcohol previously existing in the ‘ wash,’ mingled
with a considerable quantity of water. As we shall
now have to speak of the strength of spirit, it may be
desirable to explain the nature of the standard em-
ployed by the Excise. Alcohol being of a lower
Specific gravity than water, a quart or any other
quantity of the former would weigh less than an equal
quantity of the latter; and any mixture of the two
will weigh more or less according as the water or the
alcohol predominates. The excise adopts asa standard
that particular mixture of alcohol and water whose
Weinlit beaia to that of an equal bulk of distilled water
at a medium temperature the ratio of twelve to thir-
teen: that is, supposing a given bulk of distilled water
weighed thirteen ounces, then an equal bulk of standard
spirit will weigh twelve ounces, This particular
degree of alcoLolic strength is called ‘ proof spirit,’
and is the standard to which all other strengths are
referred: it consists almost exactly of one-half pure
alcohol and one-half water. The strengths of all
mixtures of alcohol and water—called by the general
name of sptrits—are ascertained by means of their
specific gravity, and this is determined by a hydro-
meter, of which that kind known as ‘Sikes’s Hydro-
meter’ is used by the excise. This instrument is
capable of weighing all liquids as light as the strongest
spirits of wine, or as heavy as water, and consequently
all mixtures of the two. The scale of the instrument
is graduated, and these graduations are said to be
‘above proof’ or ‘below proof,’ according as the
indicate a degree of strength above or below that of
‘ proof spirit :’ ‘ 100° below proof’ is equivalent to pure
water, while ‘70° above proof ’ is about equivalent to
the strongest spirit ever produced by distillation.
When the strength exceeds ‘43° above proof,’ the
liquid is known by the name of spirits 9 _ wine, and
constitutes the strongest form in which spirit is pre-
sented to us, except in the refined operations of the
chemist’s laboratory.

These explanations will enable us to allude to the
strength of spirits in the language of the distillery.
We may proceed to state, then, that the ‘low-wines’
leave the-worm of the wash-still at a strength very
many degrees ‘below proof,’ in consequence of the
large quantity of water mingled with the alcohol.
The blue pipe which emerges from the worm-tub, and
which contains the ‘low-wines,’ terminates in the
curious piece of apparatus en in the followin
cut. This apparatus is called the ‘ worm-safe,’ and is
intended to afford the means of testing the clearness and
strength of the liquid flowing through it. The liquid
flows from the end of the pipe into a hollow glass
globe receiver, and from thence flows back through
a larger pipe concentric with the former. By turning
€ small handle, a small portion of the liquid is made
to pass into an upright cylindrical glass vessel two or
three inches in diameter; and into this cylinder the
pydrometer is introduced for measuring the strength
vf the liquid.

From the worm-safe the low-wines flow into vessels
called ‘ low-wine receivers, the stronger portion being
allowed to flow into one receiver, and the weaker into
another. These receivers, like all the other vessels
employed in a distillery, are under the control of the

judgment in the matter. These impure

MAGAZINE. (Jury, 1842.

(Pipes at the Worm-end.]

excise-officer, who ascertains the anand

strength of the low-wines obtained by distillation.
From the quantity and the specific gravity can be
ascertained the amount of ‘ proof spirit’ contained in
the low-wines receiver, and this amount is entered 2s

and the

a check
process.

The ‘low-wines,’ being much too weak for any of
the ordinary purposes of spirit, have to be redistilled,
as a means of driving off a considerable proportion of
water. This redistillation is effected in other vessels
called ‘low-wine stills, or sometimes ‘spirit-stills.’
But here some degree of complication occurs, of which
we can only speak in a general way. Provided all
the wash be distilled in the wash-still, and the product
collected in the low-wines receivers, the excise allows
the distiller a certain latitude as to the subsequent
distillations in the spirit-still. He may redistil over
and over again, with a view to anpEeve the quality of
his spirit, or to economize ingredients, provided the
officer can retain throughout the means of determining
that all the spirit obtainable from the wash is ulti-
mately collected in the Spirits-receiver; and that none
is so collected but what can be thus accounted for.
This latitude seems to have been allowed to the dis-
tiller partly because a portion of the spirit, redistilled
from the low-wines, possesses a disagreeable odour
and flavour, which must by some means be removed,
and which the distiller may devise the means for re-
moving more effectually if allowed to exercise his
i rtions of
the spirit, which are called ‘feints,’ and which derive
their Peculiar quality principally from a foetid oil
yielded by the husks of the grain, are collected in ce-
parate receivers, and are thence reconveyed to the
spirit-still to be redistilled. At this point in the pro-
ceedings, therefore, each distiller is enabled to exer-
cise his judgment, and apply the results of his expe-
rience in the management of his distillery: hence, too,
arise the distinctions between strong and weak ‘low-
wines,’ and strong and weak ‘ feints,’ distinctions
made to further the views of the distiller. It will be
sufficient for our present purpose, however, to state
generally, that one distillation in the wash-still con-

against the operations in other parts of the

SUPPLEMENT. ]

verts all the alcoholic portion of the wash into low-
wines; and that one distillation in the spirit-still
converts the greater part of the low-wines into spirits,
the remaining portion requiring a third distillation.

We had occasion to speak of two different modes
of condensing the vapour adopted at the distillery,
and have now to speak of a third. The spirit-still 1s
surmounted by a tall copper cylinder, the interior of
which contains a number of small pipes; cold water
is kept constantly flowing through these pipes, so
adjusted to the heat of the cylinder as to maintain a
pretty constant temperature of 180° or 190°. Now as
the vapour rises from the still into the cylindrical con-
denser, and comes in contact with the inner pipes, the
aqueous portion falls down again into the still in the
form of water, heing unable to maintain the vaporic
form when in contact with substances at so low a tem-
perature as 190°. But the alcoholic portion remains
in the state of vapour at that temperature, and passes
off into the worm of the still, there to be condensed
into spirit.

We have spoken only of one ‘safe’ for the exhibition
and testing of the distilled product. But there are
four such in the distillery to which our attention is
directed: they are arranged two on either side of a
convenient platform, raised a few steps above the floor
of the still-room, and are adapted to receive the various
kinds of ‘low-wines,’ ‘ feints,’ and ‘spirits,’ as they
proceed from the condensing-worms to the respective
receivers.

The spirit-receiver is a vessel under the especial
supervision of the excise officers, since the final adjust-
ment of duty is regulated by the quantity and strength
of the contents of this receiver. We have before stated
that the officer gauges the quantity and specific gravity
of the worts in the fermenting-back, and calculates the
quan of proof spirit which ought to be charged for
therein, amounting to twelve gallons of proof-spirit
from one hundred gallons of wort when the latter has
a specific gravity of 1:060. He also gauges the
quantity and strength of the proof-spirit in the ‘low-
wincs,’ In the feints, and lastly in the finished spirits,
with a view to Jet one method act as a check to the
other. The duty is paid on the actual quantity of proof-
spirit in the spirit-receiver ; but should this prove, on
an average of a twelvemonth, to be less than the quan-
tity estimated by the gauge of the worts or wash, the
distiller has to pay up the deficiency : if, on the contrary,
there is an excess, the excise retains the benefit of that
excess. It was stated in evidence given before a
Committee of the House of Commons on Distillation,
a few years ago, that the quantity of proof-spirit pro-
duced is generally rather over than under the quantity
estimated from the wash ; but that the estimate is a very
near approximation as ageneralaverage. If the spirit
in the receiver is ‘ over-proof,’ an increased rate of duty
is not charged, but the spirit is hypothetically increased
in quantity to the requisite dilution, and then the duty
applied. Suppose, for example, there is one hundred
gallons of spirit 25° over-proof; this implies that if
twenty-five gallons of water were added the mixture
would be at proof; the distiller is thereupon charged
duty on one hundred and twenty-five gallons of proof-
spirit.

From the spirit-receiver, the spirit passes to the store-

warehouse, a long building situated in the western

art of the distillery. Here are ranged seven or eight

arge store-vats, numbered (as most of the vessels are
required by law to be in a distillery) and inscribed
with their liquid capacity. This store-room is provided
with the requisite conveniences for ee casks from
the store-vats, and for despatching them from the dis-
tillery. As spirit does not, like beer, improve by
being kept in store for a considerable period, there

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

303

is no necessity for that vast array of vats which forms
such an object of wonder at the great porter-brewerics ;
and as spirit is, bulk for bulk, twelve or fifteen
tines dearer than porter, a small establishment ot
barrels, waggons, horses, &c. will be adequate for the
business of a large distillery.

RECTIFYING AND COMPOUNDING.

Let us now recapitulate the steps through which we
have traced the production of spirit. In the first place
the grain—consisting of any of the usual varieties,
and either raw or malted—is crushed or ground, as a
means of allowing hot water to act more readily on the
farinaceous ingredient. In the next place this grain
is mashed with water till a heavy liquid called
‘worts’ isextracted. Then the ‘ worts’ are fermented,
Li which the saccharine principle is converted into
alcohol; and lastly, this alcohol is, by repeated distilla-
tions, separated from the greater portion of the water
with which it had been combined. The result is
called ‘plain British spirits.” But we have not yet
done with it; we have yet to trace it through the
hands of another manufacturer.

The liquid so highly valued in science as ‘ spirit of
wine,’ the various forms of spirituous liquors known
as hollands, whiskey, gin, British brandy, &c., and the
cordials known as peppcrinint, cloves, aniseed, &c.,
are produced by the rectifer from plain spirit pur-
chased by him from the distiller. This is a distinction
which we have not hitherto had an opportunity of ex-
plaining. Asa means of vee any surreptitious
proceedings in respect of duty, the excise laws prohibit
the carrying on of two distilleries, or one distillery
and a rectifying establishment, within a quarter of a
mile of each other. They also limit the quantity of
spirit which the distiller may sell, to a minimum of
eighty gallons at one time, with which must be given
a ‘permit.’ As a general rule we may state that
British spirit (we exclude mention of Scotch and Irish
whiskey, as, although plain malt-spirit, they are regu-
lated by clauscs in the act applying specially to them)
is but little known in‘the form in which it leaves the
distillery, since it receives from the hands of the recti-
fier the peculiar properties by which it is rendered
familiar. The person’s name often attached to spiri-
tuous, liquors, asa guarantee for the quality, is the
name not of the distiller, but of the rectifier. There
are only six distilleries in the vicinity of London, and,
we believe, no more than nine in the whole of Eng-
land, all the other establishments called by that name
being places where the spirit, made from the tnalt or
grain by the distiller, is redistilled, ‘ rectified,’ or
purified, and compounded with various vegetable
substances to impart flavour.

Among the rectifying distilleries in the metropolis
we have availed ourselves of permission to visit that
of Messrs. Stephen Child and Son, in Trinity Street,
Southwark, one of the most elegant and scientific
manufactories we have ever seen, in which the re-
sources of modern science are brought to bear on the
particular branch of manufacture with much tact and
discrimination. This distillery has been recently
erected on a plot of ground belonging, we believe,
to the Trinity Housc ; and in virtue of a stipulation
that the building should be an architectural ornament
to the spot, the exterior has been made one of the
most highly decorated in that part of the metropolis :
indeed its facade would bear comparison with most of
the West-end club-houses. .

This distillery consists of a square court-yard sur-
rounded by buildings. - The eastern, western, and
southern sides comprise various offices and buildings
of a subsidiary character, such as warehouses, wag-
gon-sheds, stables, harness-rooms, &c.; while the

304

northern side comprises the building in which all the
operations of the distillery are carried on. This latter
is surmounted by an ornamental chimney,- which is
likely long to retain its cleanly appearance, for nearly
all the smoke produced by the furnaces is consumed ;
a principle the further adoption of which in our ma-
nufactorics would be a step of incalculable benefit.
We shall best describe the arrangement of the various
parts of the building by tracing the progress of the
spirit through them. _ ;

The raw spirit is sold by the distiller to the rectifier
in two different strengths, viz. 25° over-proof, and
11° over-proof, both of which are rigorously fixed
by the legislature. The spirit is brought to the
rectifier in casks belonging to the distiller, with an
excise permit; and an officer visits the rectifying
distillery to see that all the spirits received there
have paid duty: beyond this point the excise laws
do not control the rectifier, except in one or two
minor points. Supposing a cask of raw spirits to be
conveyed to Messrs. Child’s establishment, it is hoisted
into a large square room called the warehouse, lined
on two sides with rows of store-vats, and opening into
the still-room. The cask is rolled upon a weighing-
inachine, which is connected to a very ingeniously
constructed steelyard, whereby the weight of the
spirit and cask is determined. The empty cask
being afterwards weighed, affords the means of deter-
mining the exact weight of the spirit; after which a
reference to a thermometer and to a. printed table
shows the exact number of gallons of spirit. The
weighing-machine being level with, and indeed form-
ing part of the floor, and the steclyard being portable,
the necessity for heavy scales is wholly obviated.

When the full cask has been weighed, it is rolled
over an opened trap-door in the floor, the bung is
removed, an air-vent is opened, and the spirit flows
out into a store-vat placed in the room beneath for its
reception. This trap-door is provided with means for
saving any alcoholic vapour which may rise from the
spirit beneath. We next procced to the underground
vaults, where we see a range of store-vats for the recep-
tion of raw spirit, preparatory to the rectifying pro-
cesses; and from thence we trace the spirit, by means
of pipes, to the still-room, an apartment small in
dimensions, but full of scicntific appliances. On one
side of this room we sec a large iron tank, about thirty
fect long and ten high: this is divided into four com-
partments, and serves as a worm-tank for containing
the cold water with which the spirit is condensed. Im-
mncdiately in front of this is a range of four stills, one
for gin, one for spirit of wine, one for British brandy
and British rum, and one for cordials. These stills
are not heated by open fires, but by steam; a laycr or
thin stratura of steam being allowed to act on the
lower half of each still, something on the principle of
a sugar-builer. The steam for this purpose is gene-
rated in two large cylindrical boilers, heated by smoke-
consuming furnaces in which Merthyr Tydvil coals
are burned, the steam-pipes being covered with non-
conducting substances to prevent the loss of heat.

Supposing the spirit is to be converted into gin, one
of the stills is seven-tenths filled from the storc-vats,
and steam is admitted to acton the still. The contents
ascend in vapour, which is afterwards condensed in
the worm-tanks. This distillation is the rectifying of
the spirit, by which a certain portion of essential oil
18 removed from it. Then ensues the compounding,
which is a redistillation with certain herbs, berries,
and secds, in order to impart the particular flavour
whereby the liquid is known. Whatever may be the
strength of the spirit when it comes into the bands of
the rectifier, he reduces it, when in the form of gin, to
a strength not greater than 17° under-proof:

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

(Jury, 1842.

If spirit of wine is to be made, the crude spirit is
pumped into a still whose yee part consists of a
vertical cylinder, containing a large number of pipes.
The vapour ascending these pipes, and the pipes being
surrounded by water at about 180°, the arrangeinent
effects (on the principle we have before explained) so
extensive a separation between the alcoholic and
aqucous vapour, that spirit can be obtained as high as
62° over-proof. It must, by law, be as strong as 43°
over-proof ; but the saleable strengths are from about
54° to 60°.

If British brandy, British rum, or cordials are to be
made, the spirit is redistilled with various vegetable
substances calculated to impart the requisite flavour.
By an ingenious arrangement, patented, we believe, by

essrs. Pontifex, the alcoholic vapour, instead of con-
densing in the worm-tank, passes into a flavouring-
vessel containing the ingredients, so as to imbibe the
qualities of those ingredients while condensing : it is
again converted into vapour, ahd then passes through
the worm-tank, to be finally condensed in the usual way.

All the various liqueurs, as condensed in the worm,
are conducted by pipes into store-vats contained in a
different part of the building ; but in their way thither
they pass through hollow vessels called ‘safes,’ similar
in object and in principle to those employed at Messrs.
Smith's, but differing in construction. In the still-
room is also kept a powerful hydraulic press, capable
of exerting a relate of a hundred and fifty tons:
this is employed for pressing some of the fruits used
in the preparation of cordials, such as raspberry and
cherry-brandy. In the upper part of the building is a
store-room for the cinnamon, peppermint, cloves,
aniseed, juniper-berries, and various berrics, seeds,
and fruits used in the preparation of cordials, and in
flavouring the various kinds of spirit, together with
the requisite apparatus for preparing them for the still.

In every part of this establishment the arrangements
for the cconomising of heat are very complete. We
have said that the furnaces consume nearly all their
own smoke. This is effected by supplying fuel in su
a manner, that the smoke from the new coal must pass
over highly heated fuel before it can reach the chimney,
whereby nearly all the carbon is brought into profitable
employment, The stills, too, are not only heated by
steain, brought from boilers in pipes covered with non-
conducting substances, but the heat of this steam when
condensed is even saved. A small apparatus called a
‘condensing-box,’ contrived by Messrs. Pontifex, is
pipes in the still-roum for this purpose, and acts as

ollows :—As fast as the steam, admitted into a hollow
jacket round the bottom of each still, becomes con-
densed into water by the lower temperature of sur-
rounding bodies, this hot water flows into a cylindri-
cal cavity in which a heavy circular stone moves up
and down. This stone is exactly balanced by a weight
at the other end of a Icver, so that a small power
suffices to move the stone. The hot water, filling the
space beneath the stone, gradually raises it, and in so
doing acts upon a catch which opens a valve, and
allows all the water to descend into the boiler in the
room beneath. Thusall the heat contained in the con-
densed steam is effectually preserved.

The boilers, steam-engines, and pumps, employed
in the various operations of the establishment, are all
of the most modern forins, and are arranged with sin-
gular economy of space, each being placed within a
very few feet of the spot where its power js to be prac-
tically applied.

We have, in conclusion, to acknowledge the cour-
tesy of the respective proprietors of these two esta-
blishments, in affording the means for presenting this
brief outline of a manufacture in which so large an
amount of scientific skill is involved.

Auaust 6, 1842.]

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THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

(‘‘ And never knew what belonged to conchmen, footmen, or pages.
. * .

Who buys gaudy-coloured fans to play with wanton air,
And seven or eight different dressings of other women's hair.’’]

THE OLD AND YOUNG COURTIER.—No. VIII.

APPAREL.

Ir the “queen’s old courtier” resided at court, he
must have known “what belonged to coachmen,
footmen, or pages,” as will have been seen from the
letter of the Countess of Northampton, at p. 222, and
from other passages we have quoted. Coaches were
certainly novelties in the reign of Elizabeth, having
been first introduced about 1555, and when the queen
went in state to St. Paul’s to return thanks for the
defeat of the Armada, though she rode in a “ hollow-
turning coach, with pillars and arches,” * her attend-
ants rode on horseback. Before the end of her reign,
however, they had been rapidly multiplied, and a
French mission of congratulation to James J. on his
accession went in thirty coaches.+

The “ gaudy-coloured fans” of the ballad were
formed, as is shown in the engraving to No. VI., of

* Stow.

+ See ‘Penny Magazine,’ vol. iii., p- 321, for an article on
the History of Coaches; and vol. i., p- 182, New Series, and
vol. iv., p. 186, Old Series, for notices of travelling. There
was progress, but no very marked difference between the two

ia No. 664,

feathers, sometimes those of the ostrich, but the more
rare and costly the better. The handles were of silver,
or some other valuable material, and occasionally or-
namented with jewels; one such, presented to Eliza-
beth on her birth-day, was said to have been worth
400/.: they were not all, of course, so expensive ; for
Falstaff, in the ‘ Merry Wives of Windsor,’ tells Pistol,
“When Mistress Bridget lost the handle of her fan, I
took’t upon mine honour thou hadst it not;” and
Pistol retorts, “ Didst thou not share? hadst thou not
fifteen pence?” The attempt to reduce the price of
all fashionable vanities to the means of the general
mass has been probably as strenuous at every period
as it continues to be at the present.

“ Different dressings of other women’s hair” was not
a peculiarity of either the reign or court of James.
The custom had existed during the life of his pre-
decessor, and was common on the Continent. Indeed
it was not till a much later period that the full enor-
mity of the fashion was reached, in the full-bottomed
wigs of the men, from the time of Charles II. to that
of George III.; and the towering commodes and tou-
pees of the women, with some temporary interrup-
tions, for about the same period. A custom which has
existed from the time of the Pharaohs, as is proved by

Vou. XI.—2 R

306

the existence of one of the periwigs in the Egyptian
collection of the British Museum, is not likely to be
easily extirpated: we may congratulate ourselves that
now the ‘other women’s hair” is not openly paraded,
but that improved taste has led the wearers, when
adopted, to endeavour to make it appear as simple
and natural as possible.

In fact, the dianes in apparel and ornament were
no more than mere changes of fashion, probably acce-
lerated by growing wealth; and was marked rather
by a cessation of the fruitless attempts to regulate the
modes of dress, which, down to the time of Elizabeth,
monarchs, legislatures, and municipalities had been
vainly endeavouring to effect. We give two or three
specimens of these enactinents :—In 4 and 5 Phil. and
Mar. it was ordered, that none of the Socicty of the
Middle Temple should “thenceforth wear any great
breeches in their hoses, made after the Dutch, Spanish,
or Almon [German] fashion; or lawn upon their
caps; or cut doublets, upon pain of 3s. 4d. forfeiture
for the first default, and the second time to be ex-
pelled the house.” In 26 Eliz. the following regula-
tion was made by the same society for reformation in
apparel :—1. That no great ruff should be worn.
2. Nor any white colour in doublets or hosen. 3. Nor
any facing in cloaks but by such as were of the bench.
4. That no gentleman should walk in the streets in
their cloaks, but in gowns. 5. That no hat, or lon
or curled hair, be worn. 6. Nor any gowns but such
as were of a sad colour. Subsequently it was de-
clared, that they have “no order for their apparel, but
every man as he listeth, so that his apparel pretend to
no lightness or wantonness in the wearer; for even as
his apparel doth show him to be, even so shall he be
esteemed among them.”*

In 1582 the Lord Mayor and Common Council
enacted that “from thenceforth no apprentice what-
soever should presume, 1. To wear any apparel but
what he receives from his master. 2. To wear no
hat within the city and liberty thereof, nor anything
instead thereof, but a woollen cap, without any silk in
or without the same. 3. To wear no ruffles, cuff,
loose collar, nor other thing than a ruff at the collar,
and that only a yard and Fal long. 4. To wear no
doublets but what were made of canvas, fustian, sack-
cloth, English leather, or woollen cloth, and without
being enriched with any manner of silver, silk, or gold.
5. To wear no other coloured cloth, or kersey, in
hose or stocking, than white, blue, or russet. 6. To
wear little breeches of the same stuffs as the doublets,
and without being stitched, laced, or bordered. 7.
To wear a plain upper coat of cloth or leather, without
pinking, stitching, edging, or silk about it. 8. To
wear no other surtout than a cloth gown or cloak,
lined or faced with cloth, cotton, or bays, with a fixed
round collar, without stitching, guarding, lace, or silk.
9. To wear no pumps, slippers, nor shocs, but of
English leather, without being pinked, edged, or
stitched; nor girdles, nor garters other than of crewel,
woollen thread, or leather, without being garnished.
10. To wear no sword, dagger, or other weapon, but
a knife; nor a ring, jewel of gold, nor silver, nor silk,
in any part of his apparel.” +

he costume of a page of the time of Queen Eliza-
beth, as given in the ‘ Progresses,’ is also worthy of
notice from the minuteness of its detail. It is the
description given in the ‘Hue and Cry, for the appre-
hension of a youth, and includes in addition an
enumeration of many of the ornaments of his master.
He was cquipped in “one doublet of yellow million
fustian, the one-half thereof buttoned; with peach-
colour hose laced with small tawny lace; a grey hat,

* Q. Eliz. Prog., vol. iii., p. 33.

t Q. Eliz. Prog,, vol. ii, p. 393.

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

{[Aucusrt G,

with a copper edge round about it, with a band, parcell
of the same. Had a pair of watchet [bluc] stock-
ings. Likewise he hath two cloaks, the one of vesscy
colour, guarded with two guards, of black cloth and
twisted lace of carnation colour, and lined with crim-
son baize; and the other is a red sheep-russet colour,
eve down the cape, and down the toreface twisted
with two rows of twisted lace ; russet and gold buttons,
afore and upon the shoulder, being of the cloth itself,
set with the said twisted lace, and the buttons of russet,
silk, and gold. This youth’s numeis Gilbert Edwodd,
and page to Sir Valentine Browne, knight, who is run
away this fourth day of January, with these parcels
following: viz., a chain of wire-work gold, with a
button of the same, and asmall ring at it; two flagging
chains of gold, the one being marked with these Ictters
V and B upon the back, and the other with a little
broken jewel at it, one carcanet of pearl, and jasynitts
thereto hanging; a jewel like a ‘marrimadc’ of gold,
enamelled, the tyle [tail] thereof being set with dia-
monds, the belly of the . . . . . * made with a ruby,
and the shield a diamond; the chain whereon it
hangeth is set with small diamonds and rubies; and
certain money in gold, and white money.”

The author of the ‘ History of British Costume’ has
said, very justly, that the “costume of the icign of
James I. was little more than a continuation of the
dress of the latter part of the reign of Elizabeth.”
The starched ruff, against which Stubbs, in his
‘ Anatomy of Abuses,’ was so eee y violent, was
the most marked feature of the time. Without going
into minute detail, we shall endeavour now to show the
sbauan nature of these adornments by some cxtracts
rom contemporary dramatists :—In Jouson’s ‘ very
Man out of his Humour,’ Fastidious Brisk, a fop, is
asked if a certain lady be his mistress ; - he answers—

“ Faith, here be some slight favours of hers, sir, that do speak
it, she is; as this scarf, sir, or this riband in my ear, or so; this
feather grew in her sweet fan sometime, though now it Le my
poor fortune to wear it.”

It was a mark of fashionable gallantry of that day
for the men to wear some token of thcir mistress’s
favour publicly; gloves, ribands, &c. were the usual
articles, and many allusions occur of this custom, as
also of wearing roses, or knots of ribands in the eax,
which belonged to them. In ‘Every Man in his
Humour,’ and in the ‘Silent Woman,’ by the same
author, he speaks of yellow doublets and great roses ;
and in the latter play, published in 1609, he thus
describes what will be required by the wife :—

*‘ She must have that rich gown for such a great day, a new one
for the next, a richer for the third; be served in silver; have the
chamber filled with a succession of grooms, footmen, ushers, and
other messengers ; besides embroiderers, jewellers, tirewomen,
sempsters, feathermen, perfumers; whilst she feels not how the
land drops away, nor the acres melt; nor foresees the change,
when the mercer has your woods for her velvets; never weighs
what her pride costs, sir.”

But Massinger in 1632, in his ‘City Madam,’ has given
us the most complete pictures of the female dresses of
the period. Luke, the brother and supposed heir of
Sir John Frugal, has reduced his sister-in-law and his
nieces to a coarse dress, “ buffin gowns and green
aprons,” with “a French hood, too; now ’t is out of
fashion ;” in which they compare themselves to

“ Exchange wenches,
Coming from eating pudding-pies on Sunday
At Pimlico or Islington.”

He then proceeds to reproach them with their pride
and extravagance, addressing the mother—

* This word is illegible. This jewel like a mermaid shows
the fantastic nature of the fashions of the time.

1842. |

“ Your father was
An honest country-farmer, poodman Humble,
By his neighbours ne‘er call’d Master. Did your pride
Descend from him? but let that pass: your fortune,
Or rather your husband's industry, advanced you
To the rank of a merchant's wife. He, made a knight,
And your sweet mistress-ship ladyfied, you wore
Satin on solemn days, a chain of gold,
A velvet hood, rich borders, and sometimes
A dainty minever cap, a silver pin
Headed with a pearl worth threepence, and thus far
You were privileged, and no man envied it ;
It being for the city’s honour that
There should be a distinction between
The wife of a patrician and plebeian.
* * * ® *
= * But when the height
And dignity of Loudon’s blessings grew
Contemptible, and the name lady-mayoress
Became a by-word, and you scorn’d the mcans
By which you were raised, my brother's fond indulgence
Giving the reins to it; and no object pleased you
But the glittering pomp and bravery of the court ;
What a strange, nay monstrous, metamorpl.is followed !
No English workmen then could please your fancy.
The French and Tuscan dress your whole discourse ;
This bawd to prodigality * entertain d
To buzz into your ears what shape this countess
Appear'd in the last masque, and how it drew
The young lords’ eyes upon her; and this usher
Succeeded in the eldest prentice’ place
To walk befure you * . -
Then, as I said,
The reverend hood cast off, your borrow'd hair,
Powder'd and curl’d, was by your dresser’s art
Form’d like a coronet, hanz'd with diamonds
And the richest orient pearl; your carcanets
That did adorn your neck, of equal value;
Your Hungerford bands, and Spanish quellio ruffs ;
Great lords and ladies feasted to survey
Embroidered petticoats; and sickness feign'd
That your night-rails of forty pounds apicce
Might be seen with envy of the visitauts ;
Rich pantofles in ostentation shown,
And roses worth a family ; you were served in plate,
Stirr’d not a foot without your coach, and going
To church, not for devotion, but to show
Your pomp, you were tickled when the beggars cried
Heaven save your Honour! this idolatry
Paid to a painted room. * . .
. * * And when you lay
In childbed, at the christening of this minx,
(I well remember it) as you had heen
An absolute princess, since they have no more,
Three several chambers hung, the first with arras,
And that for waiters ; the second, crimson satin,
For the meaner sort of guests; the third of scarlet,
Of the rich Tyrian dye ; a canopy
To cover the brat’s cradle; you in state
Like Pompey’s Julia.”
Of this magnificent description tre have only to observe,
that minever was a mixed fur made from ermine and
grey weasel skins. As to “roses worth a family,”
Stow, in his ‘ History of London,’ says, “ Concerning
shoe-roscs, cither of silk or what stuff soever, they were
not then (in the reign of quecn Elizabeth) used nor
known ; nor was there any garters above the price of
five shillings a pair, although at this day (James I.)
men of mean rank wear garters and shoe-roses of more
than five pounds price.”

The same jealous dislike of the supply of articles by
foreigners is shown in the extract from Massingcer, as
is evinced in the regulations for the dress of appren-
tices already quoted of the time of Elizabeth; and
both equally prove the avidity with which such articles
were sought, and how much they were esteemed. In
confirmation of this we subjoin a curious extract re-

* This alludes to the lady’s maid, or tirewoman.

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

307

lative to dress and fashions from a work on political
economy, published during the reign of Elizabeth. It
is a work of considerable ability, written by W.S.,
supposed to be Wentworth Stafford, and whose initials
have been sometimes mistaken for Shakspere’s :—* I
will tell you; while men were contented with such
[articles] as were made in the market-towns next unto
them, then they of our towns and cities were well set
at work ; as I knew at the time when men were con-
tented with caps, hats, girdles, and points, and all
manner of garments nade in the towns next adjoining,
whereby the towns were then well occupied and set at
work, and yet the money paid for the stuff remained
in the country. Now, the poorest young man in a
country town cannot be content with a girdle, or
leather points, knives, or daggers, made nigh home.
And specially no gentleman can be content to have
either cap, coat, doublet, hose, or shirt, in his country,
but they must have this gear from London, and yet
many things hereof are not there made, but beyond
the sea ; whereby the artificers of our good towns are
idle, and the occupations in London, and specially of
the towns beyond the scas, are well sct a-work even
upon our costs. I have heard say that the chief trade
of Coventry was heretofore in making of blue thread,
and then the town was rich even upon that trade in
manner only, and now our thread comes from beyond
sca. Wherefore that trade of Coventry is decayed,
and thereby the town likewise.

« And I marvel no man take heed of it, what number
first of trifies comes hither from beyond the sea, that
we might either pay inestimable treasure every year,
or else exchange substantial wares and necessaries for
them; for the which we might receive great treasure.
Of the which sort I mean as well looking-glasses as
drinking ; and also glaze windows, dials, tables, cards,
balls, puppets, penners (pen-cases), ink-horns, tooth-

ecks, gloves, knives, daggers, anches (collars or neck-
aces), brooches, aglets (the metal ends of tags or laces),
balloons (little balls) of silk and silver, earthen-pots, pins
and points, hawk’s bells, paper both white and brown,
and a thousand like things that might either be clean
spared, or else made within the realm sufficient for
us: as for some things, they make it of our own com-
modities, and send it us again, whereby they set their
people a-work, and to exhaust much treasure out of
this realm, as of our wool they make clothes, caps, and
kerseys ; of our fells (hides) they make Spanish skins,

love, and girdles; of our tin, salt-sellers, spoons, and
alishes of our broken linen cloths and rags, paper
both white and brown; what treasure think ye goes
out of the realm for every of these things and these,
for altogether it exceeds mine estimation. There is
no man can be contented now. with any other gloves
than is made in France or in Spain; nor kersey, but
it must be of Flanders dye; nor cloth, but French or
Friseadome ; nor anch, brooch, but of Venice making ;
nor aglet, but Milan; nor dagger, sword, knife, nor
girdle, but of Spanish making, or some outward country ;
no not as much as a spur but that it is fetched at the
milliner. I have heard, within these forty years, when
there was not of these haberdashers that sell French or
Milan caps, glasses, knives, daggers, swords, girdles,
and such things, not a dozen in all London; and now
from the town to Westminster along, every street is full
of thein, and their shops glitter and shine with glasses,
as well drinking as looking, yea all manner of vessels
of the same stuff, painted cruises, gay daggers, knives,
swords, and girdles, that it is able to make any tempc-
rate man to gaze on them, and to buy somewhat, though
it serve to no purpose necessary.”

The same feelings have prompted the same argu-
ments since, nor are they yet wholly out of use.
Human passions and vanitics conan ou and

808

impel in the same direction, though marked by some
unessential variations. In laments over the past, like
that of the ‘Old and Young Courtier,’ we are too apt
to overlook the evils that have ceased to exist, and to

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

exaggerate the present ones. The main effects are
only developed in the general manners, and the must
important and enduring are caused by more extended
and better adapted instruction.

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(Kenilworth Castle in 1620.—From the Fresco Painting at Newnham Padox.)

KENILWORTH.

Tue Second Part of ‘ William Shakspere: a Bio-
graphy ’ contains a chapter on the ‘ Princely Pleasures
of Kenilworth’ in 1575, when the Earl of Leicester
entertained Queen Elizabeth with unequalled mag-
nificence. The novel of Sir Walter Scott has made
every one familiar with this remarkable place. The
following conclusion of the chapter to which we refer
describes the ruins of this magnificent castle, and the
impressions they produce :—

‘‘ Laneham * asks a question which in his giddy style
he does not wait to answer or even to complete :—
‘ And first, who that considers unto the stately seat of
Kenilworth Castle, the rare beauty of building that
his Honour hath advanced, all of the hard quarry-
stole ; every room so spacious, so well belighted, and
so high roofed within ; so seemly to sight by due pro-
portion without; in day-time on every side so glitter-
ing by glass; at nights, by continual brightness of
candle, fire, and torch-light, transparent through the
lightsome windows, as it were the Egyptian Pharos
relucent unto all the Alexandrian coast,’-—who that
considers (we finish the sentence) what Kenilworth
thus was in the year 1575, will not contrast it with its
present state of complete ruin? Never did a fabric
of such unequalled strength and splendour perish so
ingloriously. Leicester bequeathed the ion to
his brother the Earl of Warwick for life, and the
inheritance to his only son, Sir Robert Dudley, whose
legitimacy was to be left doubtful. The rapacious
dames contrived, through the agency of the widow of

Ls Laneham, who was a cones usher of Elizabeth's court,
wrote a very curious account of the icu is visi
the Queen to her favourite. pees mn coe

the Earl of Leicester, to cheat the son out of the
father’s great possessions. The more generous Prince
Henry, upon whom Kenilworth was bestowed, nego-
tiated for its purchase with Sir Robert Dudléy, who
had gone abroad. A fifth only of the purchase-money
was ever paid; yet upon the death of his brother,
Charles took possession of the castle as his heir. A
stronger than Charles divided the castle and lands,
thus unjustly procured by the Crown, amongst his
captains and counsellors; and from the time of Crom-
well the history of Kenilworth is that of its gradual
decay and final ruin. No cannon has battered its
strong walls, ‘in many places of fifteen and ten foot
thickness ;’ no turbulent eee | has torn down the
hangings and destroyed the architraves and carved
ceilings of ‘the rooms of great state within the same ;’
no mines have explod# in its ‘stately ccllars, all
carried upon pillars and architecture of freestone
carved and wrought.’ The buildings were whole, and
are described, as we have just quoted, ina survey when
James laid his hand upon them. Of many of the outer
walls the masonry is still as fresh and as perfect as if
the stone had only been quarried half a century ago.
Silent decay has done all this work. The proud Lei-
cester, who would have been king in. England, could
not secure his rightful inheritance to his son, un-
doubtedly legitimate, whom he had the baseness to
disown whilst he was living. No just possessor came
after him. One rapacity succeeded another, so that
even a century ago Kenilworth was a monument of
the worthlessness of a grovelling ambition.

‘The historian of Warwickshire has given us ‘ the
ground-plot of Kenilworth Castle’ as it was in 1640.
By this we may trace the pool and the pleasance ; the
inner court, the base court, and the tilt-yard ; Caesar's

1842. } THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 309

Tower and Mortimer’s Tower; King Henry's Lodg-
ings and Leicester’s Buildings; the Hall, the Presence
Chamber, and the Privy Chamber. There was an old
fresco painting, too, upon a wall at Newnham Padox,
which was copied in 1716, and is held to represent the
castle in the time of James I. Without these aids
Kenilworth would only appear to us a mysterious
mass of ruined gigantic walls; deep cavities whose
uses are unknown ; arched doorways, separated from
the chambers to which they led; narrow staircases,
suddenly opening into magnificent recesses, with their
oriels looking over corn-field and pasture ; a hall with
its lofty windows and its massive chimney-pieces still
entire, but without roof or flooring; mounds of earth
in the midst of walled chambers, and the hawthorn
growing where the dais stood. The desolation would
probably have gone on for another century ; the stones
of Kenilworth would still have mended roads, and been
built into the cowshed and the cottage, till the plough-
share had been carried over the grass courts,— ad not,
some twenty-five years ago, a man of middle age, with
a lofty forehead and a keen grey eye, slightly lame, but
wi active, entered its gatehouse, and, having looked
upon the only bit of carving left to tell something of
interior magnificence, passed into those ruins, and
stood there silent for some two hours.* Then was the
ruined place henceforward to be sanctified. The pro-
' gress of desolation was to be arrested. The torch of
genius again lighted up ‘every room so spacious,’ and
they were for ever after to be associated with the recol-
lections of their ancient splendour. There were to be
visions of sorrow and suffering there too; woman’s
weakness, man’s treachery. And now Kenilworth is
worthily a place which is visited from all lands. The
solitary artist sits on the stone seat of the great bay-
window, and sketches the hall where he fancies Eliza-
beth banqueting. A knot of young antiquarians,
ascending a narrow staircase, would identify the turret
as that in which Amy Robsart took refuge. Happy
children run up and down the grassy slopes, and
wonder who made go pretty a ruin. The contempla-
tive man rejoices that the ever-vivifying power of
nature throws its green mantle over what would be
ugly in decay; and that, in the same way, the poetical
power invests the desolate places with life and beauty,
and, when the material creations of ambition lie perish-
ing, builds them up again, not to be again destroyed.”

THE SOUTH SEA BUBBLE.

THE origin of the South Sea Company may be
traced to Harley, Earl of Oxford, who, to restore the
public credit, which had suffered from the removal of
the Whigs from power, brought forward his “ master-
piece.” This was the forming the creditors, to whom
was owing the floating debt of the nation, into a Com-
pany, which should have six per cent. interest insured
to them on their debts (in all ten millions), by render-
ing permanent various duties, such as those on wines,
vinegar, tobacco. As a still greater allurement, the
South Sea trade, from which great things were at that
time expected, was to be secured to them only. The
idea was marvellously well received, and the Company
incorporated as the “Governor and Company of Mer-
chants of Great Britain trading to the South Seas and
other parts of America.” But the King of Spain had
his own views of this matter of admitting British
mierchants into his Transatlantic ports; and the result

* “A few years ago there wasa venerable and intelligent
farmer, Mr. Bonington, living in the Gate-house at Kenilworth.
He remembered Scott's visit, although he knew not at the time
of the visit who he was; and the frank.manners and keen
inquiries of the great novelist left an impression upon him which
be described to us. The old man is dead.”

was, the Company obtained only such advantages as
were to be derived from the infamous Assientv, or
contract, empowering them to supply Spanish America
with negroes from the African continent, and from the
permission to send one ship annually with a cargo of
goods for sale. Even these advantages, such as they
were, had scarcely been granted before they were
recalled by the war with Spain, which broke out in
1718, or the year after the first annual ship had sailed.
Still there seems to have been an indefinable sort of
confidence that something great would yet result from
the South Seas ; the merchants could not cease to look
upon its islands as their Promised Land ; consequently
the ee stock still kept up its value, the Com-
pany still enjoyed the public confidence—their next
movement was to show how worthily. The ministers
had conceived the idea that means might still be
devised for the formation of a great South Sea trade,
which should be so profitable as to pay off all the
national incumbrances. Their prompter, it is highly
probable, was Sir John Blunt, a leading Director of
the Company, who is known to have taken great pains
to show ministers the advantage that would result
from consolidating all the funds into one, and to have
Hpaieieade pointed out the effective assistance which
is Company might render. An offer even was made
by Sir John, on the part of the latter, to liquidate the
entire national debt in twenty-six years, if the different
funds were formed into one as proposed, if certain
commercial privileges were granted, and, lastly, if they
were empowered to take in by purchase or subscription
both the redeemable and irredeemable national debt,
on such terms as might be agreed on between the
Company and the proprietors. Ministers laid the
scheme Yefore Parliament. A pty sien was pro-
posed and agreed to. The Bank of England sent ina
propoeals which so alarmed the Directors of the
outh Sea Company, that they reconsidered theirs, and
prepared one still more favourable than either theix
own previous one or that of the Bank. The latter, on
its part, imitated the Company’s example, and ulti-
mately four plans lay upon the table of the House of
Commons for consideration. The Directors of the
Company had said they would obtain the prefer-
ence cost what 1t would, and they made good their word.
Leave was given to bring ina bill founded on their
proposals. It may now be worth while to inquire
what the Directors really intended; and perhaps the
best answer is to be found in their private proceedings
at this moment, which are known to us by means of
the subsequent Parliamentary inquiry. The books
now presented a total sum of above a million and a
quarter of money, upon account of stock to the amount
of 574,500/., which was there stated to have been sold
on various occasions, and at prices varying from 150
to 325 percent. Of this professed 574,500/. worth of
stock, only about 30,000/. was real, all the remainder
was assigned, without value received of any kind, to
the Directors, or the members of Government, whom
it was desirable to bribe. Thus 50,000/. stood against
the Earl of Sunderland’s name; 10,0002. against the
Duchess of Kendal, the King’s ill-favoured German
mistress ; 10,000/. to the Countess of Platen, a lady
enjoying a similar position, and a like sum to her two
nieces ; 30,0002, to Mr. Secretary (of State) Cragga;
10,0002. to Mr. Charles Stanhope, one of the Secretaries
of the Treasury; and some large sums by a more
circuitous mode to Aislabie, the Chancellor of the
Exchequer, who introduced the propositions to Par-
liament. Some of our readers may not readily perceive
the immediate effect of this arrangement; we offer,
therefore, a slight illustration. The day before the
Parliament gave leave for the bringing in of the bill
referred to, the Company's stock stood at 130; almost

310

immediately after it rose by great leaps to 300. Sup-
posing Mr. Secretary Crages, for instance, to be
satisfied with the profit now within his reach, the
cashier perhaps of the Company sold out his stock at
the rate of 300 per cent., kept 130 per cent. for the
Company (thus, for the first time, making its nominal
subscriptions real), and handed over the difference,
170 per cent. on 10,000/., to Mr. Secretary Craggs.
On the other hand, had the stock, instead of rising from
130, fallen, what then? Why, then Mr. Secretary
Craggs would havé consoled himself with the reficc-
tion that it could not sink below its cost to him, which
was simply—nothing. During the progress of the bill,
the stock continuing to rise, the Directors made two
more subscriptions, or, in other words, repeated the
mancenuvre above described. On the last of these
occasions Mr. Aislabie’s name was down for 70,0001.,
Mr. Craggs, senior, for 659,000/., the Earl of Sundcr-
land for 160,000/., and Mr. Stanhope for 47,0007. The
bill passed, and some time after the stock rose in value
to above 1000 per cent. The unheard-of profits that
it was in the power of the prime-movers in this affair
to make, under such circumstances, are very evident ;
though it is highly provable that some even of them
were carried away by their own schemes, and, ventur-
Ing too long, shared in the gencral loss at the last. To
produce the continual rise in the value of their stock,
means as infamous as the ends which some at least of
the Directors had in view were adopted. Markets of
inestimable value were every day being discovered in
those wonderful South Seas, mines of incalculable
depth full of the precious metals. Fifty per cent.
dividends, in short, were the least that the holders of
the stock were to expect. Landlords sold their estates,
merchants neglected their establishments, and trades-
men their shops,—to flock to the Exchange and vest
their all in the Company’s stock; and to find there a
promiscuous crowd of noblemen and parsons, brokers
and jobbers, country squires and ladies as eager as
themselves in the same pursuit.

The original speculation became at last insufficient
for the demands of the public to lose its money. Asso-
ciations of every conceivable kind, and many of which
it may be safely asserted none of us could now con-
ceive of, were not the facts before us, started up in
Imitation of their great parent. Brought forward
under nore favourable circumstances, some of these
would have deserved the encouragement they now,
ae met with ; such, for instance, as some of
the great fisheries proposed, the fire-assurance compa-
nies, silk and cotton manufactories, &c. &c. But of
the major part we may say they were as extravagant
as the period in which they were proposed; and of
gome, that they were as ludicrously absurd as the
heated imaginations of those for whosc especial benefit
they were intendcd. In the list of bubbles declared
illegal, when the evil became too imminent for the
Government to leave it alone, we find those for trading
in human hair, for furnishing funerals to any part of
Great Britain, and for a wheel for the perpetual mo-
tion. Maitland also mentions, among his general list of
one hundred and fifty-six bubbles, those for an Arca-
dian colony, for feeding hogs, for curing the gout and
stone, for furnishing merchants with watches, for mak-
ing butter from beech-trecs, for an engine to remove
the South-Sea Touse into Moorfields, for making
deal boards of saw-dust, for a scheme to teach wise
men to cast nativitics; and above all was one witha
gloriously expressive title, to extract silver from lead,
fur the knaves and the fools could each read it in their
own Way, and be equally pleased with it.

Durning the King’s absence, even the Prince of
Wales, the heir to the throne, joined in the general
ecramble that was going on, and put down his name as

THE PENNY

MAGAZINE. [Aucusr 6,
governor of some Welsh copper Company, although
warncd that he was subjecting himsclf to a prosecution
in so doing. He soon made 40,000/., and then with-
drew in time to avoid the evil that had been pointed
out. These prosecutions were carried on at the insti-
gation of the South Sca Company, who, as it has been
observed, ‘desiring to monopolise all the folly and all
the money of the nation,” obtained writs of sct7e factas
against the managers of the minor bubbles, and thus
destroyed most of them. Their very proceedings,
however, it is probable caused attention to be paid to
the basis of a// these speculations, and most alarming
was the result. Many began now to see very clearly
that the value of the South Sea stock really rested on
nothing but the delusion of its supporters. At the
beginning of August the price was quoted ata thou-
sand. The bubble had now reached its highest point,
and began to descend. Suspicion first became raised
apparently by the means adopted in making out the
share-lists for the different subscriptions, with what
reason we have already shown. The next circum-
stance was of a much more startling nature: it was
generally reported that Sir John Blunt, the chairman,
and some others, had sold out. By the 2nd of Sep-
tember the stock had fallen to seven hundred. The
Directors, to allay the alarm, called a meeting at
Merchant Tailors’ Hall on the 8th. The room was
filled to suffocation. Sir John Fellowes, the sub-
governor, was made chairman. Many Directorsspoke
inculcating union, and others in praise of the Directors’
conduct. A Mr. Hungerford, a member of parliament,
with thoughtful kindness, observed, ‘They had
enriched the whole nation, aud he hoped they had not
forgotten themselves.” The Duke of Portland won-
dered how anybody could be dissatisfied ; and, in short
the Directors had it all their own way. That same
evening, however, the stock fell to six hundred and
forty, and the next day to five hundred and forty.
Bankers, brokers, and merchants began to break
daily, and many, in utter despair of redeeming any-
thing, even character, fied the country, each involving
hundreds of lesser houses with him. Gay, the poct,
was a sufferer, under peculiar circumstances. The
younger Cragegs had at an early pcriod made him a

resent of some stock, which, as the bubble expanded,
ecame nominally worth 20,000/. He was then begged
to sell it, or even a portion of it large enough to secure
him, in Fenton’s words, “a clean shirt and a shoulder
of mutton every day.” But the true gambling spirit
had infected the poet as well as everybody elsc: it
should be all or nothing; so it was—nothing. For
some time afterward Gay’s life was in danger, 80
deeply did he take to heart his loss, and perhaps his
folly. The aspect of affairs was now so dangcrous,
that the King was sent for from Hanover; and Wal-
pole, who from the first, be it said to his credit, had in
the most carnest and impressive manner prophesied
the result, was desired to come up from his country-
seat to London, and use his influence with the Bank of
England to assist the falling Company by circulating
a number of their bonds. The Bank at first consentcd ;
but afterwards, seeing more clearly the desperate con-
dition of the Company, drew back, and gave a decided
refusal. It wasacurious coincidence that, whilst at
that inoment a Director was scarcely safe in the streets
from the vengeance of the populace, Law, the projector
of the great Mississippi scheme in France, was flying
for his life from the people whom he had beggared.
But error and knavery, however similar in their results,
must not be confounded together : Law gave the most
decided proofs that the miserable love of lucre had
not been the instigating motive withhim. The refusal
of the Bank of England to risk their property in the
vain endeavour to save the Company was a last and

1312.]
finishing blow. It burst the bubble. The stock
soon fell to one hundred and thirty-five.

(Yo be continued.)

GROUND-ICE, OR GROUND-GRU.

Ir is generally imagined that rivers frecze only at the
surface; this, however, is not the fact, ice being fre-
quently formed at the bottom of running water. Thus,
according to Dr. Farquharson, the phenomenon is so
cominon, and so well known in certain parts of Lin-
colnshire, that the inhabitants have given it the name
of Ground-gru, a name which that gentleman has
adopted in his paper on the subject in the ‘ Philoso-
phical Transactions’ for 1835, p. 329. Gru is the
name by which the people of Lincolnshire designate
snow saturated with or swimming in water; and as
the ice formed at the bottom of rivers very nearly
resembles that in appearance, a better name than
Ground-gru could hardly be given, though it would
be more precise to call it subaqueous ice, in contra-
distinction to that found at the surface, and because
the term Ground-ice, which this formation has also
received, has been sometimes given to the ice occa-
sionally met with at certain depths in the ground in
northern countries.

Common, however, as may be the phenomenon of
subaqueous ice, and although it has been noticed at
various times, it has but very lately attracted the
serious attention of observers. Ireland, in his ‘ Pic-
turesque Views of the River Thames,’ published in
1792, 2 vols. 8vo., mentions the ground-ice of that
river, and on the subject quotes Dr. Plott, who says,
“The watermen frequently meet the ice-mecrs, or
cakes of ice, in their rise, and sometimes in the under-
ad enclosing stones and gravel brought up by them

imo.’

M. Arago has published an interesting paper on the
subject in the ‘Annuaire du Bureau des Longitudes’
for 1833, in which he mentions the following obscrva-
tions made on ground-icc :—In the Thames, oy Hales,
in 1730; in the river Drome, department of Ardéche,
France, by Desmarets, in 1780; in the Elbe, by Mons.
Braun, in 1788; in the Teine, Herefordshire, by Mr.
Knicht, in 1816; in the Canal de la Birze, nor Bale,
by Mons. Mérian, in 1823; in the Aar, at Soleure, by

Mons. Hugi, in 1827 and 1829; in the Rhine, at Stras-.

burg, by Professor Fargeau, in 1829; and in the Seine,
by Mons. Duhamel, in 1830. More lately still, Colo-
nel Jackson, in a paper on the congelation of the
Neva, published in the 5th volume of the ‘ Journal of
the Royal Geographical Society,’ mentions the forma-
tion of ground-gru at the bottom of that river; and in
the 6th volume of the same journal there is a paper
expressly on the ice formed at the bottom of the Si-
berian rivers. Mr. Ejisdale has, in the ‘ Edinburgh
New Philosophical Journal,’ vol. xvil., p. 167, a paper
on ground-ice; and, finally, Dr. Farquharson, as
already mentioned, has published his observations
on the ground-gru of the Don and Leochal in Lin-
colnshire,

Hence it would appear that the phenomenon is by
no means uncommon ; perme it is general ; though,
from its very nature, little likely to attract attention,
particularly in waters that are somewhat deep.

Almost all who have written on ground-gru have
endeavoured to account for its formation, though no
explanation yet given is perfectly satisfactory, and
least of all those of Dr. Farquharson and Mr. Fisdale.
The former gentleman says it is the result of radiation,
and endeavours to substantiate his reasoning upon the
principles of the formation of dew, seeming to forget
entirely that Dr. Wells maintains expressly that wind

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

311

and shade are alike obstacles to radiation; and that
consequently a body of moving water so deep as to be
impervious to light, and particularly when covered,
as in the case of the Neva, with a sheet of ice three
feet thick, and as much more of snow, must present an
insurmountable obstacle to the radiation of heat from
the bottom of the river. Mr. Eisdale thinks ground-
ice is the result of the frozen spiculz of the air fallin
into the river, and there forming nucler, around which
the water freezes at the bottom; but this is quite inad-
missible. M. Arago’s explanation in part, and the
very simple fact that water, when at 32° of Fahr., if at
rest, or in very slow motion (which is the case at the
bottom of rivers), will freeze, seem among the most
natural ways of accounting for the formation of
ground-gru. M. Arago attributes the formation to
three circumstances—1st, the inversion, by the motion
of the current, of the hydrostatic order, by which the
water at the surface, cooled by the colder air, and
which at all points of the temperature of water under
39° Fahr. would, in still water, continue to float on the
surface, is mixed with the warmer water below ; and
thus the whole body of water to the bottom is cooled
alike by a mechanical action of the stream; 2nd, the
aptitude to the formation of crystals of ice on the stones
and asperities of the bottom in the water wholly
cooled to 32°, similar to the readiness with which crys-
tals form on pointed and rough bodies in a saturated
saline solution; 3rd, the existence of a less impedi-
ment to the formation of crystals in the slower motion
of the water at the bottom than in the more rapid one
near or at the surface. But, as has been said, no ex-
planation yct given is quite satisfactory, and the pheno-
menon yet remains to be studied under all the variety
of circumstances which may attend it. A knowledge
of the temperature of the water at different depths is
most essential to a just appreciation of the real cause
of the phenomenon.

Ground-gru differs materially from surface-ice. Dr.
Farquhaxson, in his paper, highly interesting as re-
gards facts, describes it as having “ the aspect of the
arererated masses of snow, as they are secn floating in
rivers during a heavy snow-shower; but on taking
it out of the water, it is found to be of a much firmer
consistence than these : it is a cavernous mass of vari-
ous sized, but all small, pieces or crystals of ice, ad-
hering together in an apparently irregular manner by
their sides, or angles, or points promiscuously: the
adhesion varies according to circumstances.” This
corresponds precisely with what is stated by Col.
Jackson to have been observed by him in the Neva at
St. Petersburg. Dr. Farquharson says, that when it
begins to form at the bottom, it aggregates in forms
somewhat resembling little hearts of cauliflower. Mr.
Weitz, author of the paper in the ‘ London Geographi-
cal Journal’ on the ground-gru of the Siberian rivers,
says that which he noticed at the bottom of the Kann
(an affluent of the Jenisset), 40 versts from Krasno-
jarsk, was of a greenish tinge, and resembled patches
of the confervoide@. From these facts we conclude
that though the appearances of the ground-gru may
vary with circumstances, it is in all cases essentially
different from the solid compact sheets of surface-ice.

THE TALEGALLA.
(Concluded from page 294.)

In the Megapodius Tumulata the head and crest are
of a very deep cinnamon-brown ; back of the neck and
all the under surface very dark grey; back and wings
cinnamon-brown; upper and under tail-coverts dark
chestnut-brown; tail blackish-brown; irides gene-
rally dark brown, but in some specimens light reddish-

312

brown; bill reddish-brown, with yellow edges; tarsi
and fect bright orange, the scales on the front of the
tarsi from the fourth downwards, and the scales of the
toes, dark reddish-brown. (Gould.)

Size about that of a common fowl.

This is the Ooregoorga of the aborigines of the
Cobourg Peninsula; the Jungle-fowl of the colonists
of Port Essington.

On Mr. Gilbert’s arrival at Port Essington his atten-
tion was attracted to numerous great mounds of earth
which were pointed out to him by some of the resi-
dents as being the tumuli of the aborigines. The
natives, on the other hand, assured him they were
formed by the Jungle-fowl for the purpose of hatching
its eggs. But this last statement appeared so extra-
ordinary, and so much at variance with the general
habits of birds, that no one in the settlement believed
them, and the great size of the eggs brought in by
thei as the produce of this bird strengthened the
doubt of the veracity of their information. Mr. Gil-
bert however, knowing the habits of Letpoa, took with
him an intelligent native, and proceeded about the
middle of November to Knocker’s Bay, a part of Port
Essington harbour comparatively but little known,
and where he had been informed a number of these
birds were to be seen. He landed beside a thicket,
and had not advanced far from the shore when he came
to a mound of sand and shells, witha slight mixture
of black soil, the base resting on a sandy beach, only a
few feet above high-water mark: it was enveloped in
the large yellow-blossomed Hibiscus, was of a conical
form, twenty feet in circumference at the base, and
about five feet high. On asking the native what it
was, he replied, ‘Oregoorga Rambal’ (Jungle-fowl’s
house or nest).
it, and found a young bird ina hole about two feet
deep; the nestling, apparently only a few days old,
was lying on a few dry withered leaves. The native
assured Mr. Gilbert that it would be of no use to look
for eggs, as there were no traces of the old birds having
lately been there. Mr. Gilbert took the utrthost care
of the young bird, placed it in a moderate-sized box,
into ahich he introduced a large portion of sand, and
fed it on bruised Indian corn, which it took rather
freely. Its disposition was wild and intractable, and
it effected its escape on the third day. While it re-
mained in captivity, it was incessantly employed in
scratching up the sand into heaps, and Mr. Gilbert
remarks that the rapidity with which it threw the sand
from one end of the box to the other was quite surpri-
sing for so young and small a bird, its size not being
Jarger than that of asmall quail. At night it was so
restless that Mr. Gilbert was constantly kept awake by
the noise it made in endeavouring to escape. In
scratching up the sand the bird only employed one
foot, and having grasped a handful as it were, threw
the sand behind it with but little apparent exertion,
and without shifting its standing position on the other
leg: this habit, Mr. Gilbert observes, seemed to be the
result of an innate restless dispusition and a desire to
use its powerful feet, and to have but little connection
with its feeding ; for, although Indian corn was mixcd
with the sand, Mr. Gilbert never detected the bird in
picking any of it up while thus employed.

Mr. Gilbert continued to receive the eggs without
any opportunity of seeing them taken from the ground
until the beginning of February, when, on again visiting
Knocker’s Bay, he saw two taken from a depth of six
feet, in one of the largest mounds he had met with.
In this instance the holes ran down in an oblique direc-
tion from the centre towards the outer slope of the
hillock, so that although the eggs were six feet deep
from the summit, they were only two or three feet
from the side.

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

Mr. Gilbert scrambled up the sides of

[Aucust 6,

How the young effect their escape does not appear ;
some natives told Mr. Gilbert that the nestlings effected
their escape unaided; but others said that the old birds
at the proper time scratched down and released them,
The natives say that only a single pair of birds are
ever found ata mound ata time. Our space will not
permit a more detailed account of these highly curious
mounds; but the reader should consult Mr. Gould's
highly valuable work for other particulars: we can
only spare room for Mr. Gilbert’s description of the
general habits of this interesting species.

“ The Jungle-fowl is almost exclusively confined to
the dense thickets immediately adjacent to the sea-
beach : it appears never to go far inland, except along
the banks of creeks. It is always met with in pairs or
quite solitary, and feeds on the ground, its food con-
sisting of roots which its powerful claws enable it to
scratch up with the utmost facility, and also of seeds,
berries, and insects, particularly the larger species of
Coleoptera. Itisatall timesa very difficult bird to
procure; for although the rustling noise produced
by its stiff pinions when flying away be frequently
heard, the bird itself is scldom to be seen. Its
flight is heavy and unsustained in the extreme; when
first disturbed it invariably flies to a tree, and on
alighting stretches out its head and neck in a straight
line with its body, remaining in this position as sta-
tionary and motionless as the branch upon which it is
perched: if however it becomes fairly alarmed, it
takes a horizontal but laborious flight for about a
hundred yards with its legs hanging down as if broken.
I did not myself detect any note or cry, but from the
native’s description and imitation of it, it much resem-
bles the clucking of the domestic fowl, ending with a
scream like that of the peacock. I observed that the
birds continued to lay from the latter part of August
to March, when I lett that part of the country; and,
according to the testimony of the natives, there is only
an interval of about four or five months, the driest and
hottest part of the year, between their seasons of incu-
bation. The composition of the mound appears to in-
fluence the colouring of a thin epidermis with which
the eggs are covered, and which readily chips off, show-
ing the true shell to be white: those deposited in the
black soil are always of a dark reddish-brown ; while
those from the sandy hillocks near the beach are ofa
dirty yellowish white: they differ a good deal in size,
but in form they allassimilate, both ends being equal :
they are three inches and five lines long by two inches
and three lines broad.” (Birds of Australia.)

Megapodius Tumulus, Moun+d-raisirg Megapode, with nest in the distante
(From Gould.)

THE PENNY

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FROISSART AND HIS CHRONICLE.
"THE BLACK PRINCE IN sPAIN—(concluded).

Tue night was spent in preparations, on both sides,
for the fight that was to decide the fate of a kingdom. |
‘* After midnight the ices At sounded in King Henry’s |
host, then every man made him ready; at the second |
blast they drew out of their lodgings, and ordered |
three battles.” The first was principally under the |
command of Sir Bertrand du Guesclin, and there were |
all the strangers, as well of France as of other coun-
tries: “there was well in that battle four thousand
knights and squires, well armed and dressed after the
usage of France.” The second battalion was under
the orders of Don Tello and Don Sancho, brothers to
King Henry; ‘and in that battle, with the genetors*,
there were fifteen thousand a-foot and a-horseback, and
they drew them a little aback on the left hand of the
first battle. The third battle, and the greatest of all,
governed King Henry himself; and in his company
there were a seven thousand horsemen and three score
thousand a-foot, with the cross-bows, so that in all
three battles he was a four score and six thousand a-
lhorseback and a-foot. Then King Henry leapt on a
strong mule, after the usage of the country, and rode

* Light horsemen mounted on yennets : whence the name.

No. 665.

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MAGAZINE. 313

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from battle to battle, right sweetly praying every man
that day to employ himself to defend and keep their
honour, and so he showed himself so cheerfully that
every man was joyful to behold him. Then he went
again to his own battle, and by that time it was day-
light; and then about the sun rising he advanced forth
towards Navaret to find his enemies, in good order of
battle, ready to fight.” Such is a view of the Spanish
cam — that eventful night ; turn we now to the
Englis

he The Prince of Wales, at the breaking of the day,
was ready in the field, arranged in battle, and ad-
vanced forward in good order, for he knew well he
should encounter his enemies.” The opposed armies
were therefore advancing “ each toward the other, and
when the sun was rising up it was a great beauty to

Vou. XI.—28

ila IAN KY
IdMIZeEA DY
WAIGMIZOU VY

314

behold the battles and the armours shining against
the sun; so thus they went forward till they ap-
proached near together. Then the prince and his
company went over a little hill, and in the descending
thereof they perceived clearly their enemics coming
toward them ; and when they were all descended down
this mountain, then every man drew to their battles,
and kept them still, and so rested them; and every
man dressed and apparelled himself ready to fight.”
Then it was that the interesting incident which
forms the subject of our engraving occurred. “Sir
John Chandos brought his banner, rolled up together,
to the prince, and said, ‘Sir, behold, here 1s my ban-
ner; I require you display it abroad, and give me
leave this day to raise it; for, Sir, I thank God and
you, I have land and heritage suflicient to maintain it
withal.”* Then the prince and King Don Pedro took
the banner between their hands, and spread it abroad,
the which was of silver, a sharp pyle gules, and
delivered it to him, and said, ‘Sir John, behold here
your banner; God gend you joy and honour thereof.’
Then Sir John Chandos bare his banner to his own
company, and said, ‘Sirs, behold here my banner and
yours; kecp it as your own:’ and they took it, and
were right joyful thereof, and said that, by the plea-
sure of God and St. George, they would keep and
defend it to the best of their powers; and so the
banner abode in the hands of a good English squire,
called William Allestry, who bare it that day, and ac-
quitted himself right nobly. Then anon after, the
Kinglishnen and Gascons alighted off their horses, and
every man drew under their own banner and standard
in array of battle, ready to fight: it was great joy to
sce and consider the banners and pennons, and that
noble armoury that was there. Then the battles
began a little to advance; and then the Prince of
Wales opened his eyes and regarded towards heaven,
and joined his hands together, and said, ‘ Very*God,
Jesu Christ, who hath formed and created me, con-
ecnt, by your benign grace, that I may have this day
victory of mine enemies, as that I do is ina rightful
quarrel, to sustain and to aid this king, chased out of
his own heritage, the which giveth me courage to
advance myself to re-establish him again into his
reajm:’ and then he laid his right hand on King Don
Pedro, who was by him, and said, ‘ Sir king, ye shall
know this day if ever ye shall have any part of the
realm of Castile or not; therefore, advance banners, in
the name of God and St. George! With these words
the Duke of Lancaster and Sir John Chandos ap-
proached, and the duke said to Sir William Beau-
champ, ‘Sir William, behold yonder our enemies; this
day ye shall sec me a good knight, or else to die in the
quarrel :’ and therewith they approached their ene-
mics, And first the Duke of Lancaster and Sir John
Chandos’s battles assembled (met) with the battle of
Sir Bertram of Guesclin, and of the Marshal Sir
Arnold Dandrehen, who were a four thousand men of
aris; so at the first brunt there was a sore encounter
with spears and shields, and they were a certain space
or any of thein could get within other: there was
tinany a decd of arms done, and many a man re-
versed and cast to the carth that never after was
relieved. And when these two first battles were thus
asscinbled, the other battles would not long tarry be-
hind, but approached and assembled together quickly ;
and so the prince and his battle came on Don Sancho’s
battle, and with the prince was King Don Pedro of
Castile, and Sir Martin de la Karra, who represented
* Sir Jolin here alludes to the qualification necessary to a
knight who desired to raise bis banner, which consisted of a train

of ut least fifty mon-of-arms, with their usual compliment of
archers, followers, &c.

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

[Avcusrt 13,

the King of Navarre. And at the first meeting that
the prince met with Don Sancho’'s battle, the earl and
his brother fled away without order or good array, and
wist not why, and a two thousand spears with him.
So this second battle was opened and anon discomfited,
for the Captal of Buch and the Lord Clysson, and
their company, came on them a-foot, and slew and
hurt ny ot them. -, Then the prince’s battle, with
the king Don Pedro, came and joined with the battle
of King Henry, whereon there were a threescore thou-
sand men a-foot and a-horscback. There the battle
began to be fierce and cruel on all parts, for the
Spaniards and Castilians had slings wherewith they
cast stoncs in such wise that therewith they clave and
brake many a bascinet and helm, and hurt many a
man, and overthrew them to the earth; and the ar-
chers of England shot fiercely and hurt the Spaniards
grievously, and brought thei to great mischief. The
one part cried ‘Castile!’ for King Henry, and the
other part ‘Saint George for Guienne!’” As usual,
the cloth-yard shafts galled the enemy beyond en-
durance ; and the Spaniards, first in one quarter, then
in another, showed signs of dismay and disunion.
Still the battle was long and fiercely maintained, and
Froissart half intimates that, if the people most in-
terested had done their duty, the combat might have
ended differently. He says, ‘Of truth, if the Spaniards
had done their part as well as the Frenchmen did, the
Englishmen and Gascons should have had much more
to do, and have suffered more pain than they did.
The fault was not in King Henry that they did no
better, for he had well admonished and desired them
to have done their devoir valiantly, and so they had
promised him to have done; the king bare himself
right valiantly, and did marvels in arms, and with
good courage comforted his people; as when thcy
were flying and opening he came in among them, and
said, ‘Lords, Iam your king; ye have made me king
of Castile, and have sworn and promised that to dic ye
will not fail me. For God's fake keep your promise
that ye have sworn, and acquit you against me, and I
shall acquit me against you; for I shall not fly one
foot, as long as I may see you do your devoir.’ By
these words, and such other full of comfort, King
Henry brought his men together again three times the
same day, and with his own hands he fought valiantly ;
so that he ought greatly to be honoured and re-
nowned.” His courage and fortitude, however, were
not to be rewarded with success. It became at last
impossible to hold his countrymen together, and with
their flight disappeared his (present at least) hopes of
the crown. The French, under their renowned Du
Guesclin, kept longest together ; but at last he himself
was taken prisoner, and general confusion ensucd.
The slaughter was terrible. The fugitives mostly
hurried along toward the “ great river, and at the
entry of the bridge of Najara there was a hidcous
shedding of blood, and many a man slain and drowned,
for divers leaped into the water, the which was
deep.” At the bridge of Navarct in like manner the
Spaniards suffered dreadfully. There, among other
eminent men, perished the great Prior of St. James's
and the Grand-Master of Calatrava. ‘I have heard
reputed,” continucs Froissart, “that one might have
seen the water that ran by Navaret to be of the colour
of red with the blood of men and horses that there
were slain.” Navaret was pillaged, as usual, and
among the rest King Henry’s lodging, ‘‘ wherein they
found great riches of vessels and jewels of gold and
silver.” The fallen Enrique had wisely taken a dif-
ferent route, by which he escaped; and it was fortu-
nate for him, “ for he knew well that if he were taken
he should die without mercy.” Don Pedro’s intcn-

1812.)

tions with regard to his brother Don Sancho, and
many other of his subjects among the prisoners taken,
shows that Froissart judges truly enough here. Don
Pedro wished to have had their heads immediately
after the battle, and was only persuaded from it by
the requests (now commands) of the Black Prince.

Sir John Chandos did that day for the Duke of Lan-
caster what he had before been accustomed tu do for his
brother the prince: he introduced him as it were into
the greatest perils, and therefore honours of warfare,
keeping generally at his side, guiding and preserving.
The distinguished warrior’s own carecr, however, had
nearly ended on this Spanish plain. Once “he adven-
tured himself so far that he was closed in among his
enemies, and so sore overpressed that he was felled
down to the earth, and on him there fell a great and
biz man of Castile called Martin Ferrant, who was
greatly renowned of hardiness among the Spaniards ;
and he did his intent to have slain Sir John Chan-
dos, who lay under him in great danger. Then Sir
John Chandos remembered of a knife that he had
in his bosom, and drew it out, and struck this Mar-
tin so in the back and in the sides, that he wounded
him to death ashe layonhim. Then Sir John Chandos
turned him over and rose quickly on his feet; and his
men were there about him, who had with much pain
broken the press to come to hiin whereas they saw him
felled.” The Black Prince and his father would have
thought their victory dearly purchased if they had lost
Sir John Chandos, even although the number of killed
had been no more than it was according to the almost
incredible statement of Froissart, four knights and
some forty others; whilst of the Spaniards and French
five hundred and sixty men-of-arms were killed, and
between seven and eight thousand others, exclusive of
those drowned.

Subsequent events require a few words of notice.
Pedro found himself at once reinstated in_ the
monarchy of Castile, and then began to let the Black
Prince know something of the true character of the
ynman he had served. A part of the money was paid
that had been promised, and only a part; and the prince,
having waited till his troops were half starved, and
being himself in ill health, thought it high time to
return to his own parts: so in July be found himself
once more in Guienne, thoroughly disgusted with the
expedition. And in other respects the march and the
battle proved equally fruitless for the objects desired.
Don Pedro began his old courses: the nation began
theirs ; Enrique once more appeared at their head ; and
for two years a miserable warfare harassed Castile
again. The termination is one of the most tragic
things in history.

In March, 1369, Enrique, after defeating in battle,
besieged Pedro in Montiel. ‘This castle of Montiél
was right strong and able to have holden against them
all a long space, if it had been purveyed of victuals
and other things necessary; but there was not in the

castle scant to serve four days, whereof king Don’

Pedro and his company were sore abashed, for they
were so strictly watched day and night, that a bird
could not come out of the castle without spying. Then
king Don Pedro, seeing himself thus beset round
about with his enemies, and knew no way of peace and
concord, was in great imagination; so all perils con-
sidered, and for default of victuals, he was counselled
to depart privily at the hour of midnight. . . . And
as king Don Pedro and his company issued out of the
castle, and went down a highway as privily as they
could devise, the Bégue de Villaines, who was ever in
doubt lest they should escape, the which caused him
to make the surer watch, he thought he heard men
pass down the highway, and said to them that were

THE PENNY

MAGAZINE. c15

about him; ‘Sirs, keep you still all privy, for methink
I hear folks come in the way: we will go know what
they be, and what they seek here in this time of night ;
peradventure these be some that are coming to revic-
tual the castle.’ Then the Bégue stepped forth with
his dagger in his hand, and came to a man that was
near to king Don Pedro, and said, ‘ What art thou ?’
And he rushed forth with his horse from him, and
passed by them. The Bégue stepped to king Don
Pedro, who was next, and said ‘ What art thou? Show
ine thy name, or thou art but dead ;’ and took him by
the bridle, for he thought he should not pass from him
as the other did. And when king Don Pedro saw such
a route of men of war before him, and that he could
not escape, he said, ‘Sir Bécue de Villaines, Iam king
Don Pedro of Castile ; I yicld me to you as a prisoner,
and put me and my company, the which are but twelve
persons, into your hands and pleasure: and, sir, I
require you, by the way of gentleness, to bring me into
some safeguard, and I shall pay to you such ransoin as
ye will desire ; for, I thank God, I have enough where-
with, so that I may escape from the hands of the
bastard my brother.’” The Bégue conducted him to
his tent, where, an hour afterwards, Enrique entered,
and the two brothers were at last face to face. What
@ moment! and whata scene! A few scornful words
passed on both sides, and then, like two wild beasts
meeting, they threw themselves upon each other,
wrestled, and fell; a weapon pleamed) in Don Pedro's
hand, and but for the assistance of the Viscount of
Roquebertyn, Enrique had there died: as it was, he
rose presently unhurt, whilst his brother lay dead on
the floor. Enrique from that time remained sole king
of Castile.

Tenure of Land in Guernsey.—The tenure of property partakes
of the double nature of land held as a farm, subject to the pay-
ment of annual rents, and as land held as freehold in perpetuity.
A purchase may be made by the immediate payment of the
price agreed upon, or by the payment of a part only, and the
conversion of the remainder into corn rents to be annually paid ;
or finally, by converting the whole of the price into such rents,
In the two last cases, where a part of or the whole of the price
is stipulated for in annual rents, the purchaser ia, to all intents
and Lr pace, as much the proprietor as in the first case, where
the whole price is paid down in cash; and so Jong as the stipu-
lated rents are paid, he and his heirs can never be disturbed,
but hold the tad as freehold fur ever. To the former proprietor
the rents are guaranteed by the land sold, and by all the other
real property held at the time of sale by the purchaser free from
incumbrance; and the rents being transferable, and such pro-
perty being always in demand, moncy can be ra‘sed by their
sales with as much ease as it could before on the land itself.
Thus, without the necessity of cultivating the soil, the original
possessor enjoys the net income of his estate, secured on tho
estate itself, which he can resume in case of non-payment; while
the purchaser, on due payment of the rent charged, becomes —
real and perpetual owner, having an interest in the soil far above
farmers under any other tenure. Experience has proved that,
under this tenure, a spirit of industry and economy 1s generated,
producing content, ease, and even wealth, from estatcs which,
in other countries, would hardly be thought capable of affording
sustenance to their occupants. And thus, also, arose two classes
mutually advantageous to each other; the one living on its in-
come, or free exercise of trades or professions—the other com-
posed of farmers raised to the rank of proprietors, dependent
alone on their own good conduct. The faculty of acquiring
land in perpetuity, without paying any purchase money, is un-
deniably proved to have been of infinite benefit to the people of
this island; but it is obvious that this source of so much good
could never have existed, or could never continue, without a
corresponding security, well guaranteed to tbe original proprictor
of the land before he parted with it—History of Guernsey, by
Jonathan Duncan.

28 2

“4
oF

THE PENNY

316

7” are
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THE PERCH.

“THe bright-eyed perch with fins of Tyrian dye” is
one of the most beautiful of our fresh-water fishes.
The upper part of the ape is of arich greenish brown,
assing below into hues of a golden yellowish-white.
The common perch is the type of a family consistin
of numerous species, some inhabiting the sea, but a
more or less resembling the one found in England.
It is probable that many species still remain undis-
covered, as their geographical distribution is so exten-
sive as to comprise the most opposite parts of the
globe; North America, Java, and New Zealand, for
example. There are few rivers, streams, lakes, canals,
or ponds in England which are not inhabited by the
perch, though, like the trout, it probably prefers clear
and rapid streams, and haunts the moderately deep
waters and hollows under the banks. It is a sociable
fish, and swims in shoals. It is difficult to acquire
accurate knowledge respecting the habits and economy
of fish, and though a piscatorium affords facilities for
observation, yet very patient habits of attention are
required before anything can be added to the facts
which are already known. Ina piscatorium formed
by Mr. Jesse at Bushy Park, “the perch,” he says,
“were the boldest and most familiar of any of the fish,
as I found no difficulty in soon getting them with
eagerness to take a worn out of my hand.” Mr. Yarrell
states that perch have been known to breed in a small
vase. Like the carp, it possesses great tenacity of life
when out of its natural element, and bears easily a
journey of ee or fifty miles if refreshed occasionally
with water aid placed in wet moss. In some parts of
the Continent the fish is taken from the ponds in the

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(The Perch.)

morning, carried to market, and if not sold, is restored
to its proper element and home at night.

A perch of three pounds is considered a large size,
but in Mr. Yarrell’s work instances are mentioned of
individuals having been taken weighing five, six, eight,
and nine pounds. The one of six pounds was taken
in the Birmingham canal; the two of eight pounds, in
the Wiltshire Avon and in Dagenham Reach in the
Thames; and the largest of all, said to weigh nine

unds, was reported on hearsay by Pennant as having

en taken in the Serpentine. The average weight
is generally inconsiderable. Mr. Turton, an expe-
rienced brother of the angle at Sheffield, mentions a
case in which sixty perch were taken by the red-worm
during a few hours one evening out of a reservoir
near Chapel-en-le-Frith in Derbyshire, and_ their
aggregate weight was sixteen pounds. Mr. Jesse
states that “great numbers of perch are bred in the
Hampton Court and Bushy Park ponds, all of which
are well supplied with running water and with plenty
of food, yet they seldom arrive ata large size. Ina
neighbouring pond, which is only fed with drainage
water, I have caught very large perch. The perch in
the Regent’s Park are very numerous. Those I have
taken, aneser are almost invariably of one size, from
half to three-quarters of a pound. Why they should
have arrived at this size and not go on increasing in
size is a circumstance which it is not easy to account
for. I have, however, remarked it to be the case in
other ponds.” Perch spawn at the end of April or
beginning of May, but Mr. Turton states March. A
perch of half a pound weight has been found to contain
two hundred and eighty thousand ova.

The season for commencing to fish for perch in

1842.]

Walton’s time was when the mulberry had commenced
to put forth its buds. It is at all times very pleasing
to have natural guides of this sort, and our ahcestors
had many such; and anglers still retain some of them.
Walton describes the perch as ‘a very bold biting
fish,” and he relates that it was said of them by some
one, that they were “like the wicked of this world, not
afraid howl their companions Latics in their sight.”
Their social habits, voracity, and boldness prove their
destruction, These qualities render the perch an
easy prey to the young angler, and itis generally his
first object of pursuit, until he becomes emulous of the
higher skill of the fly-fisher. The flesh of the perch
is firm, white, and of gond flavour.

The enthusiasm of anglers has long been well known,
and angling is one of the sports in which the inhabit-
ants of towns are most wont to indulge when they dis-
play a taste for enjoyments of this kind. One of its best
recommendations is its inexpensiveness ; and though
other sports bring a man into communion with nature,
none does 80 in a way better calculated to benefit the
mind or to leave it open to gentle and delightful im-
pressions. In the ‘ Book of Sports,’ by the Lady Julia
Berners, published in 1496, and written some years
before, the preference is given to angling over other
field-sports, and its peculiar enjoyments are set forth
with earnest simplicity :—* And yet he (the angler] at
the least hath his wholesome walk and merry at his
ease, a sweet air of the sweet savour of the mead
flowers: that maketh him hungry. We heareth the
melodious harmony of fowls. Hle secth the young
swans, herons, ducks, coots, and inany other fowl with
their broods; which me seemeth better than all the
noise of hounds, the blasts of horns, and the cry of
fowls, that hunters, falconers, and fowlers can make.
And if the angler take fish, surely then is there no
nan merrier than he is in his spirit. Also whoso will
use the game of angling, he must rise early, which
thing is profitable to man in this wise, that is to wit,
most to the heal of his soul. For it shall cause him to
be holy ; and to the heal of his body, for it shall cause
him to be whole. Also to the increase of his goods,
for it shall make him rich. As the old English pro-
verb saith in this wise, whoso will rise early shall be
holy, healthy, and zealous.”

THE SOUTH SEA BUBBLE.
(Concluded from page 311.)

Ir would be impossible to describe the extent of the
confusion, the misery, the utter loosening of all the
bonds of confidence, which more than oy laws keep
up the harmonious movements of the social machinery,
—or the universal desire four vengeance that pervaded
all classes, now that the delusion had passed from be-
fore their eyes. Gibbon, the historian, whose grand-
father was one of the Directors, has led the way in
describing the injustice of the people and the parliament
at this time, who, he says, and with truth, put aside
the ordinary forins of justice in the punishment-of the
criminals. But was this an ordinary case? Could any
statesman or lawgiver have anticipated such conduct
as was proved azainst such men? A gigantic system
of fraud, which shakes the nation to its centre, is not to
be looked upon as a petty larceny. It would be as rea-
sonable to ask a commander in time of civil war to
wait for the decision of the County Assizes before he
determined on the fate of his prisoners. We can,
accordingly, well understand the feeling of Lord
Molesworth, even whilst we condemn the vindictive
length to which he carried it. That noble lord is re-
ported to have said, in his place in parliament, that it
was stated “by some that there was no law to punish

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

317

the Directors of the South Sea Company, who were
justly looked upon as the authors of the present mis-
fortune of the state. In his opinion they ought, upon
this occasion, to follow the example of the ancient
Romans, who, having no law against parricide, because
their law supposed no son could be so unnaturally
wicked as to imbrue his hand in his father’s bloud,
made a law to punish this heinous crime as soon as it
was committed. They adjudged the guilty wretch to
he sewn in a sack, and thrown alive into the Tiber.
He looked upon the contrivers and executors of the
Villainous South Sea scheme as the parricides of their
country, and should be satisfied to see them tied, in
like manner, in sacks, and thrown into the Thames.”
This may serve also as a specimen of the feeling of the
House and the country. Two objects now engazed
attention: one, the re-establishment of the public
credit in the best possible manner,—the other, the
punishment of the men who had brought that credit to
its low state. The first Walpole undertook. His
ultimate measures consisted czsentially of the grafting
upon the Bank of England stocks, and the stocks ot
the East India Company, large portions of the stock
held by the South Sea Company, and remitting the
bonus of seven millions which the latter had engaved
to pay. The second—the punishment of the criminal
authors of all the mischief—needcd no leader: there
were but too many ready to proceed like Lord Moles-
worth to undue lengths in that matter. After some
lot disputes, the following measures were adopted: A
bill was passed restraining the Directors from leaving
the kingdom, and obliging them upon oath to deliver
in a strictaccount of their estates. ext, a Committec
of Secrecy was appointed to examine the Company’s
accounts and other papers. Immediately after this,
intelligence reached the House that Knight, the
cashier, had absconded, taking with him a register
called the ‘Green Book.” The excitement was now
greater than ever. The Commons ordered the doors
of the House to be locked, and the keys laid upon the
table, when Gencral Ross, one of the Committee of

Secrecy, acquainted them that they had already dis-
covered a train of the deepest villainy and fraud that
Hell had ever contrived to ruin a nation. Two thou-

sand pounds reward was offered that night for the ap-
prehension of the cashier, and some of the Directors
were arrested, including Gibbon’'s grandfather and Sir
John Blunt.

Our space will only allow us to give a summary of
the astounding discoveries made by this committee.
They stated at the outset that the Company's books
they had seen were full of false entries, blanks, era-
sures, and alterations, and others were missing or
destroyed. They had, however, been able to detcct the
sale of fictitious stock (in the mode being pointed out)
to the amount of at least 1,200,0000.; they had found
that Charles Stanhope, Esq., the Secretary of the
Treasury, had received a real profit on his assignment
of fictitious stock of 250,000/., through the medium of
Sir George Caswall and Co., but that his name had
been altered to Sfangape; that Mr. Aislabie, the
Chancellor of the Exchequer, had accounts of profits
evidently derived in a similar manner, with different
brokers and merchants, to the enormous ainount of
794,4511.! James Craggs, the Sccretary of State, dicd,
professedly of the small-pox, at the very time of the
publication of the report. Stanhope was first proceeded
against, who escaped bya mae) of three, on account
of his relationship to the much esteemed Ear] of
Stanhope, who had been killed just before Ly this
altogether melancholy business. Ina discussion in thie
Lords the blood rushed to his head, and the next day he
was a corpse. Aislabie’s case followed Stanhope’s, whose
case was so bad that scarcely any defence was offcred.

318

IIe was expelled the House, sent a prisoner from
thence to the Tower, and ordered to make out a
statement of his estate for the benefit of the stock-
holders of the Company. No sooner was this result
known than London presented one universal blaze of
bonfires, Sir George Caswall was next expelled the
House, and ordered to refund the 250,000/. paid to
Stanhope. The Earl of Sunderland was acquitted by
a majority of 233 to 172, and demonstrations of a very
opposite kind marked the dissatisfaction of the people.

he same day the elder Craggs, whose case was
coming before the House on the morrow, took poison.
We need not further follow the consideration of the
Directors’ cases individually: all were gone through,
and at the conclusion their entire estates confiscated,
amounting to above two millions, for the benefit of
their victims, with the exception of a small allowance
left to each. Sir John Blunt, for instance, had 50001.
out of 183.000/.; Sir John Fellowes, 10,000/. out of
243,000/7. Now we ask, reverting to what has been
before stated, was not this substantial justice? It has
been urged that no consideration was paid to the fact
that some of the Directors left off poorer than they
began ; we do not think the circumstance deserved any
consideration. Is the character of fraud lessened by
the common fact that those who live by it often end in
defrauding themselves? The real point to be observed
is, were any of these Directors zmnocent of the essen-
tial parts of the fraud in question? The contrary is
known to have been the case. Upon the whole, it
appears to us, considering that no one was injured
during the popular frenzy in life or limb, that no one
was left to the beggary he had been the means of
inflicting upon countless families, and that no one
suffered the more degrading penalties daily visited upon
crimes infinitely less infamous, the result, as far as the
Directors of the South Sea Company were concerned,
is creditable rather than otherwise to the national
character. The loss of the stock-holders was miti-
gated in several ways. A computation being made of
the stock of the Company, it was found to amount to
37,800,000/., of which the part belonging to individual
proprictors was 24,500,000/. ; the remainder being in
the Company's own possession, and forming the profit
they had made during the mania. Eight millions of
the latter were taken from the Company and divided
among the individual proprietors, making a dividend
of about 337. 6s. 8d. We have already said that above
two millions from the confiscated estates were also
added to the proprietors’ stock, and still further helped
to alleviate their loss. Money borrowed from the
Company on the pledge of South Sea stock, during the
high prices, was now allowed to be paid back at the
rate of ten pounds only for each hundred.

Of course, nd measures within the scope of possibi-
lity could satisfy the losers; who, whilst Walpole was
carrying his plans through the House, thronged the
lobbies, exhibiting their excitement in violent outcries
and gestures. On the day of the second reading, the
proprietors of the short annuities and other redeem-
able debts completely filled the place, demanding jus-
tice of the members as they passed, and putting written
and printed papers into their hands, with the view of
showing that they ought not to lose any portion of
their money; which, to say the least of it, had been
most imprudently expended. The tumult became so
great that the House could not proceed to business,
The Justices of the Peace for Westminster were called
in, and the Riot Act was read, in order to disperse
the assemblage; many of whom called out, “You first
pick our pockets, and then send us to gaol for com-
plaining.” On the conclusion of the business, Parlia-
ment was prorogued with a speech of a consvlatory
tone, but not very well calculated to assuage the

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

[Aucusr 13,

national anger. In our list of the persons about the
Court who received assignments of stock we have
before scen the names of the King’s mistresses in-
cluded. We have also noticed the Prince of Wales's

rofitable, however brief, connexion with one of the
ubbles. What, then, must the nation have thought,
when, seeing this, and suspecting much more, they
read the following passage ?—‘* The common calamity,”
said the King, “ occasioned by the wicked execution of
the South Sea scheme, was become so very great be-
fore your meeting, that the providing proper remedics
for it was very difficult; but it is a great comfort to
me to observe that the public credit begins to recover.
I have great compassion for the sufferings
of the innocent, and a just indignation against the
guilty; and have readily given my assent to such bills
as you have presented to me for punishing the authors
of our late misfortunes, and for obtaining the restitu-
tion and satisfaction due to those who have been in-
jured by them.” The Duchess of Kendal, however,
remained a Duchess; and, with the other foreign
favourites, still appeared at the English Court, to ex-
cite the not unnatural jealousy of the English people.—
London.

THE LONDON CANALS.

THe only two rivers which may be said to have any
immediate connexion with London are the Thames
and the Lea: the former being in truth the “river of
all nations ;” but the other a stream so small as to be
comparatively insignificant. Yet in past times the
navigation of the Lea was deemed a matter deserving
of much parliamentary care. Even so far back as the
fifteenth century attempts were made to render the
Lea navigable down to London. But the first pro-
poss) to form a navigable canal in any respect resem-
ling the Regent’s Canal of the present day, was made
about the year 1773, when Mr. James Sharp, brother
to Granville Sharp, presented a memorial to the Cor-
poration of London on the subject. He made choice
of Moorfields, at that time an open area of ground, as
a nucleus whence two canals might proceed, one
north-east to the river Lea, and another westward to
Paddington ; the latter corresponding in some degree
with the present Regent’s Canal. Mr. Sharp, na
spirit which seems to have reflected high credit on
his disinterestedness, employed Brindley and Whit-
worth (the latter of whom had been draughtsman to
the former) to survey the ground, with a view of
testing the practicability of the plans. In these rail-
road days, Mr. Sharp’s views of the improvements in
travelling and carriage likely to be effected by such
plans may excite a smile; but we must try thein by
the standard of 1772, and not that of 1842, to determine
their merit :— One canal boat would contain four
broad-wheeled waggons, which by inclined plains
might easily be rolled into it. Each of these, by land,
requires eight horses to draw them ; whereas one horse
would bring such a vessel as this, with four waggons,”
from Waltham Abbey to London in four hours; so
that it is evident that the labour of thirty-one horses
would be saved. And if so, all the heavy carriage
from the north road through Hertford, from Cam-
bridge, from Lynn, Norwich, and many parts of Nor-
folk and Suffolk, through Essex by Waltham Abbey,
must come through the present proposed canal. . . .
The conveyance of pesenbers in boats and barges, |
neatly fitted up with accommodations of every kind,
would be a matter of infinite consequence, both to the
rich and poor of this great city: to the former a scene
of pleasure, delight, and profit; to the latter, comfort
aa rest from their labour, as well as passage ata
very low rate, since persons may be expeditiously con-

1842.

veyed fourteen miles and a half by this delightful
communication for the trifling sum of threepence.”’*

But this “delightful travelling” of rich and poor
from Moorfields to the river Lea by canal was destined
never to be brought about. The Corporation of Lon-
don entered with much earnestness into the plan, for
the prosecution of which they gave their full sanction ;
but when a bill was brought into parliament, to give
the necessary powers to the City, certain interested
parties opposed it so strenuously as to lead to the ulti-
mate rejection of the measure. Thus fell a project
which, if acted on, might have wrought considerable
changes in the topographical and commercial features of
the north-east parts of the metropolis. With respect
to the scheme for a western canal from Moorfields to
Paddington, this depended on the contingency of
another canal being constructed from Paddington to
the neighbourhood, of Uxbridge; but as this latter
was not at that time determined on, the metropolitan
branch likewise remained in abeyance.

The link whereby the Regent’s Canal, as now con-
structed, is placed in communication with the Midland
and Northern counties, admits of being explained in
a few words. Soon after Brindley and his contempo-
rarics had planned and executed several canals in the
manufacturing districts, another was proposed whereby
these might be placed in communication with the
Thames near Brentford, and, after many delays and
difficulties, the ‘Grand Junction Canal,’ ninety miles
in length, was completed. Asa branch of or from this
canal, the ‘Paddington Canal’ was projected, intendcd
to bring merchandize from the ‘Grand Junction’ to
the western extremity of London, a distance of four-
teen miles. This being effected, the third and last
step was made when the ‘ Regent’s Canal,’ an exten-
sion or branch of the one just named, was constructed
from Paddington to Limehouse ; thus completing the
system of canal navigation now observable in the
northern outskirts of London. Those who are familiar
with these districts are aware that the Regent’s Canal
is by far the most important of any passing in or near
the metropolis. It completely bounds the busy mass
of London on the north, the north-west, and the north-
cast, forming a boundary in these directions more dis-
tinct perhaps than any other that can be named;
although it must be confessed the time seems rapidly
approaching when Poplar and Bromley, Bow and Old
Ford, Hackney and Homerton, Dalston and Kingsland,
{slington and Kentish Town, Portland Town and
Paddington, will render this boundary little else than
a name.

The most distinguishing feature of all canals is the
lock. A heavy barge or boat passes down the canal,
it enters an oblong basin or receptacle by an open
gate, the gate is closed after it, a man turns a handle
whereby a portion of water is made to flow from one
cell of this oblong basin to another, and the barge
gradually descends; another door is wound up or
opened in the lower gate of the lock, whereby the
water in the basin is still further lowered, the lower
zate is opened, and the barge passes smoothly onward.
All this, which is effected in from three to five minutes,
is calculated strongly to excite the attention of a
stranger. There is nothing analogous to it in land
traffic, and we may not unprofitably pause to consider
briefly the object and nature of the contrivance.

The physical Jaw whereby a fluid tends to
maintain a constant level, gives rise to this important
question in canal engineering, how are inequalities of
country to be surmounted? A turnpike-road may be

* ‘Address tu the Lord Mayor, Aldermen, and Common

Councilmen of London, on the importance and utility of Canals,’
1774, p. 5.

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

319

carried over a hill, provided the gradients are not too
steep; but no gradicnts are admissible in a canal, else
the water would all rush to the lower end, and the
canal would be, if anything, a ‘rapid.’ Yet acclivitics
must be surmounted by some means or other; and
locks are now the chief contrivances adopted in this
raed for effecting the object. <A profile of a canal
through its whole length would exhibit a succession
of steps, placed at regular distances apart; each step
serving to connect a perfectly level part of the canal
with another part equally level, but several feet higher
or lower; the average difference of level (in the
Regent’s Canal) being about seven feet at cach step.
As the face of the country varies more or less in ele-
vation, so must these steps occur more or less fre-
quently. Inthe Grand Junction Canal, for instance,
ninety-eight locks or steps are required in a distance
of ninety miles; whereas on the Paddington branch
only one lock is needed in a route of thirteen or foure
teen miles.

One of the modes of effecting the traction from a
lower to a higher level is by means of inclined planes ;
the plan first adopted in the canals of China. Man
of our canals are constructed in this manner, wit
various modifications according to the particular views
of the engineer; but the principle will be best under-
stood by explaining the Chinese method. Between
the upper and lower levels of their smaller canals, a
double glacis or slope of smooth hewn stone is con-
structed, the principal slope of which extends from the
bottom of the lower canal to a little above the surface
of the water in the higher canal. The smaller slope
descends to the bottom of the upper canal, and at the
junction of the two is a smooth round beam of wood
extending across. When a boat is about to ascend the
canal, a rope is attached to it, and a number of men
(manual labour being cheap in China) forcibly pull
the boat up the inclined plane, the smooth suriace of
which permits the flat bottom of the boat to glide over
it very freely. Being brought to the summit of one
slope, the boat is lowered down the other, by a re-
adjustment of the rope. The amount of total ascent
thus gained depends of course on the ratios between
the lengths and the inclinations of the two planes.
How this rude method may be improved in various
ways, by laying a railroad along the slopes, by placin
rollers beneath the boats, by placing the boat in a kin
of travelling cradle, by using horse-power or water-

wer as a means of traction, we necd not attempt to

escribe here. The principle may be easily under-

stood.
{To be continued.}

MANUFACTURE OF KASHMIR SHAWIS.

Att the thread used in making a large pair of shawls does not
weigh more than fifteen or twenty pounds English, and may be
purchased for 120 to 150 smallrupis. After the thread is dyed,
it is dipped in rice-water, a process which makes it stronger, and
fits it to be more safely moved by the shuttle, and the stiffiess
is removed by washing. The undyed shawl-stuff, which sells
at five rupis the yard, is called ubra, from ubr (a cloud), cr
alwan-i-sadah (without colour), if white; and if a border be
worked on it, the remaining white is called mutun. Alwan, as
the shawl stuff is called when free from ornament, is not often,
if ever, made up by the Kashmiri weavers of the natural culour
of the poshm, and may be, of course, dyed of any colour, red,
blue, green, yellow, &c. When made with coloured stripes or
flowers on it, the chograh of the Affghans, or al-khalek, the long
undercoat of the Persians, is made from it. If the pattern be
worked with the needle, the shawl is far inferior, in every re-
spect, to those in which the pattern is woven in. An excellent
pair of the former description may be purchased in Kashmir for
150 rupis (about 10/.), whereas an equally good pair of the

320 :

usuleh (the real), or the latter kind, could not be procured for
Jess than 700 or 800 rupis. The productions of the Kashmirian
looms, which are of old and unimproved construction, are very
numerous: du shalah, or two shawls, they being always made
in pairs; jamaweh, for bedding; rumal, or handkerchiefs ;
hasheyi, or the shawl of a coloured ground with a small border ;
urmnuk, resembling very strong nankin; and the yek-tar (one-
thread), a most light and beautiful fabric, being of about one-
half the thickness of the common shawl, and which I was
told was invented for the Sikh turbans. Besides the above,
gloves and socks are manufactured from the shaw] wool; but they
also make gulbudun, or red silk cloth for ladies’ trowsers, and
chikun, or flowers worked in silk upon a cotton ground, similar
to those procurable at Multan. Sashes and trowsers-strings are
also made from silk; whilst lungehs, or pieces of blue cloth for
turbans, and kumurbunds, or waist-cloths, are prepared from
cotton; and rugs, and horsecloths, &c., from wool. A cloth
called siling is manufactured from the sliawl wool in Yarkund
and China; it somewhat resembles a coarse English kerseymere
in texture. As soon as a shawl is made, notice is given to the
inspector, and none can be cut from the loom but in his pre-
sence, It is then taken to the custom-house and stamped, a
price is put upon it by the proper officer, and 25 per cent. on
the price is demanded. When it is purchased, and about to
leave the valley with its owner, the latter has to pay another
four rupis for permit duty, and another seal, which enables him
to pass witl his property; but he is subjected to further duties at
Jamu and Umritsir. It becomes necessary to wash the shawls,
in order to deprive them of the stiffness of the rice-starch re-
maining in the thread, and for the purpose of softening them
generally. The best water for this use is found in the canal
between the lake and the floodgates at the Drogjun. Some
ruins, in large limestone blocks, are lying on the washing-place,
and in one of these is a round hole, about a foot and a half in
diameter, and a foot in depth; in this the shawl is placed, and,
water being poured over it, it is stamped on by the naked feet
for about five minutes, and then taken into the canal, by a man
standing in the water ; one end is gathered up in his hand, and
the shaw] swung round and beaten with great force upon a flat
stone, being dipped into the canal between every three or four
strokes. This occupies about five minutes. They are then dried
in the shade, as the hot sun spvils the colours; and, in ten days
afterwards, the coloured shawls undergo a similar process, but
occupving lees time. The white ones, after being submitted to
the process, on the first day are spread in the sun, and bleached
by water sprinkled over them; they then are again treated in
the same process as the coloured shawls, being stamped upon
and beaten a second time, and then bleached again till they are
dry, and then fora third time beaten, stamped upon, and finally
dried in the sun. In the second time of stamping, soap is some-
times used, but is not good generally, and is never used for the
coloured shawls, as the alkali might affect the colours. There
is something in the water of the canal which certainly com-
municates to the sbaw] a softness which cannot be given to those
manufactured at any place in the plains of Hindustan. At the
same time, those made in Paris or at Norwich would be, I think,
as soft, were it not for the greater closeness of texture, consequent
upon their being made by a machine instead of the hand. For
the same reason it is well known that the calico made in India
is much softer, and is much more durable, than that made in
England. There are plenty of wells in the city, and in every
case where there is a bath on the premises, as water is found by
digging only five or six yards below the surface. It is not good,
but often, if I mistake not, brackish, and in some in-
stances is preferred for the washing of the red shawls. Old
shawls that require cleaning, and in some instances, new oues,
are washed by means of the freshly-gathered rout of a parasitical
plant called kritz, A pound of it is bruised and mixed with
about three pints of water, and to this is added a mixture of
viscous dung (a piece equal in size to a turkey’s egg) mixed and
beaten up with about the same quantity of water, and the shawl
is saturated with the liquor, and then stamped upon, washed with
the hand, and then well steeped inthe canal. In the plains,
the berries of the raynti fruit, stirred up with water, yet not s0 as
to form a lather, are used for washing a soiled shawl. A smaller
root, known also by the name of kritz, is often used for cotton
clothes. The colours of a shawl, after it has been washed, are
often renewed 80 well as to deceive any but the initiated, by
pricking them in again with a wooden pin dipped in the requisite
tints. The fine pale ycllow colour of a new shawl is given by

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

[Auausr 13,

means of sulphur fumes. A hole is made in the floor about a foot
in diameter, and six inches in depth. Over this is placed a small
square chimney of poplar-wood, open, of course, above. Some
lighted charcoal is put into the hole, and over it is sprinkled a
small handful of bruised sulphur. Around the chimney, and
about two feet distance from it, is placed a horse or framework,
about five feet six inches in height, upon which four shawls are
suspended, and the external air is further excluded by another
drawn over the top. When the sulphur is consumed, the shawls
are withdrawn, and others are subjected to the fumes of fresh sul-
phur. They are kept until the next day, then washed again in
water, dried and’ pressed, several together, between two boards.
The mokym, or broker, who transacts business between the shawl
manufacturer and the merchant, is a person of great importance in
the city, and the manner in which their transactions are carried
on is rather singular, They have correspondents in most of the
large cities of Hindustan, whose business is to collect and for-
ward every species of information connected with their trade.
By their means they seldom fail to hear of any saudagur, or
merchant, who is about to start for Kashmir, even from such a
distance as Calcutta, and, if he be a rich man, the mokym will
send as far as Delhi to meet him, and invite him to become his
guest during his sojourn in the valley. Perhaps, again, when
the merchant, half dead with fatigue and cold, stands at length
on the snowy summit of the Pir Panjal, or either of the other
mountain-passes, he is suddenly amazed_ by finding there a ser-
vant of the broker, who has kindled a fire ready for his reception,
hands him a hot cup of tea and a kabab, a delicious kaliaun,
and a note containing a fresh and still more pressing invitation
from his master. Such well-timed civility is irresistible; his
heart and his boots thaw together, and he at once accepts the
hospitality of the mokym, who, it may be, is awaiting the tra-
alles with a friendly hug at the bottom of the pass, two or three
days’ journey from the city, to which he obsequivusly conducts
him. He finds himself at home at the house of his new friend,
and himself and servants studiously provided with all be can
require. His host, of course, takes care to repay himself in the
end. He has an understanding with the shawl manufacturers
who frequent his house, so that his guest is at the mercy of both
parties, and should he quarrel with the broker, and hope to make
a purchase without his intervention, he would find it impossible.
No shawl-vender can by any possibility be induced to display his
stores until the approach of evening, being well aware of the
superior brilliancy imparted to their tints by the slanting rays
of the setting sun; and, when the young saudagur has purchased
initiation by experience, he will observe that the shawl is never
exhibited by one person only; that the broker, perhaps, appa-
rently inattentive, is usually sitting by, and that, under pretence
of bringing the different beauties of the shaw] under his most
especial notice, a constant and free-masonic fire of squeezes and
pinches, having reference to the price to be asked, and graduated
from one hundred to a five rupi power, is secretly kept up
between the venders, by means of their hands extended under the
shaw]. When the merchant has completed his purchase, the
mokym, who was before so eager to obtain him as a guest, pays
him the compliment of seeing him safe to the outside of the city,
where he takes leave of him at Chaturbul, the very last place
within it; from which custom the brokers have obtained the
cant name of Dost-i-Chaturbul, or the ‘“ Chaturbul friends.”’
The fool's-cap or cypress-shaped ornament so commonly worked
on the shawls is a representation of the jigeh, or kashkeh, or
aigrette of jewels which is worn on the forehead in the East.
Every great man now wears one, but when the Patans were in
the zenith of their power under Timour Shah it was the privi-
lege of royalty only.—From G. T. Figne's Travels in Kashmir.

Cast-Iron Buildings.—Buildings of cast-iron are daily increas-
ing at a prodigious rate in England, and it appears that houses
are about to be constructed of this material. As the walls will
be hollow, it will be easy to warm the buildings by a single
stove placed in the kitchen. A three-story house, containing
ten or twelve rooms, will not cost more than 1100/, regard
being had to the manner in which it may be ornamented. Houses
of this description may be taken to pieces, and transported from
one place to another, at an expense of not more than 25/. It 1s
said that a large number of cast-iron houses are ebout to be
manufactured in Belgium and England, for the citizens of Ham-
burgh whose habitations have been burnt.—Afining Journal.

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THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

(Lodge at Dropmore.]}

RAILWAY RAMBLES.
DROPMORE.

Looxk1n@ in a northerly direction from the terrace of
Windsor Castle, over the valley of the Thames, the
eye rests upon a long line of elevated ground, termi-
nating towards the west in a somewhat bold and abrupt
she vara sf This elevated ridge thus ending near
aidenhead isa very considerable table-land, inclu-
ding several parishes of great extent, for the most part
ill repaying the labours of the cultivator, but of late
ror rendered most productive as well as picturesque
y large plantations, chiefly of larch and the other
species of pincs. One of the most elevated and com-
manding situations near the western extremity of this
table-land was, some fifty years ago, a wild common,
in the parish of Burnham, about three miles from the
great Bath road. Here the late distinguished states-
man and scholar Lord Grenville had a_ property
called Dropmore. He chose the place for his retreat
from the cares of public life. e common was in-
closed ; plantations of pines were made with consum-
mate taste; an elegant house was built; a flower-
garden of surpassing beauty formed; and there are
now few places in England so beautiful to the lover
of fine scenery, and so interesting to the botanist, as
the gardens and grounds of Dropmore. These are,
with great liberality, shown to the public, without any
formality beyond an application to the gardener; and
certainly the object, in connexion with the fine natural
scenery of Burnham Beeches, of which we have
already spoken, is well worth a Railway Ramble.
The visitor may either alight at the station at Maiden-
head or at Slough; the village of Burnham being
about two miles distant from each.
We extract the following account of the cultivation

No. 666,

of the pine tribe in England from Mr. Loudon’s most
elaborate and accurate work ‘ Arboretum.’

“Several sorts of pines and firs apres to have been
known in England in the time of Gerard and Parkin-
son; and afterwards Ray and Evelyn refer to gardens
containing particular species. It had not then been
common to farm plantations of the pine as a useful
tree, for Evelyn mentions as remarkable, that a
northern gentleman had informed him that the pine
was abundantly planted in Northumberland for tim-
ber. Evelyn mentions ten several sorts as then in
English gardens; including the cedar, and the larch,
the pinaster, the Pinus Teda, the silver fir, the spruce,
and one or two other species or varieties of doubtful
identity. In the ‘London Nurseryman’s Catalogue’
of 1730, about the same number are enumerated as
being then propagated for sale. In Miller’s time,
collections of pines and firs appear to have been first
made by some of the principal landed gentlemen.
Among the oldest of these collections was that at
Woburn Abbey, where the park, at the pepraning of
the present century, contained some immense silver
firs, that have since been cut down on account of their
age. At Whitton, an excellent collection was made,
between 1720 and 1730, by Archibald, Duke of Argyle ;
some fine specimens of which, and especially of the
cedars, pinasters, Weymouth pines, and hemlock
spruces, still remain, and continue to grow vigorously.

ccording to the ‘ IIortus Kewensis,’ the Pinus Cembra
was first planted at Whitton; and the original tree,
which still exis(s, was, in July, 1837, fifty feet high,
with a trunk one foot six inches in diameter. Between
1750 and 1760, Peter Collinson made a collection of
all the rarest pines and firs that could be procured in
his time, in his grounds at Mill Hill; and several of
these trees, particularly Pinus Cembra, Pinus Tinea,

Vou. XI.—2 T

THE PENNY

and some of the cedars and spruces, still remain. A
collection of pines and firs was made at Lyon about
the same period; and when Kew Gardens were
formed in 1760, as many species were planted there as
could be procured, and the collection has since received
several additions from time to time. The best collec-
tions of old trees in the immediate neighbourbood of
London, now (1837) existing, are those at Kew and
Lyon ; but the most complete collection in England,
aud doubtless in the world, is that in the Pinetum at
Dropmore, near Windsor, commenced by the late
Lord Grenville, and every new specics or variety 1s
added, as soon as it can be procured. All the sorts of
Abietianz that are in the country are in the garden of
the London Horticultural Society; but the plants
there are, for the most part, of small size.”

We may properly conclude this brief notice of
Dropmore with an extract from Lord Brougham’s
inasterly delineation of the character of Lord Gren-
ville :— The endowments of this eminent statesman’s
mind were all of a useful and commanding sort;
sound sense, steady memory, vast industry. His ac-
quirements were in the same proportion valuable and
lasting ; a thorough acquaintance with business in its
principles and in its details; a complete mastery of
the science of politics, as well theoretical as practical ;
of late years a perfect familiarity with political eco-
nomy, and a just appreciation of its importance; an
early and most extensive knowledge of classical lite-
rature, which he improved, instead of abandoning,
down to the close of his life; a taste formed upon
those chaste models, and of which his lighter compo-
sitions, his Greek and Latin verses, bore testimony to
the very last. His eloquence was of a plain, masculine,
authoritative cast, which neglected if it did not de-
Spise ornament, and partook in the least possible degree
of fancy, while its declamation was often equally
powerful with its reasoning and its statement.”*

322

CHIMNEYS AND CHIMNEY-SWEEPERS.

Tx period scems to be not very far distant when the
poor little chimney-sweeper, with his svoty face, his
weak eyes, his bare feet, and his burden of collected
soot, will be spoken of as a creature of other days—a
memorial of a most clumsy and unscientific (not to
say inhuman) practice. Already has the legislature
declared the employment of children in this way to be
unlawful, and it remains to be seen how far ingenuity
will enable us to remove any temporary inconve-
niences.

When the circumstances are considered by which
the ee eenie of chimneys is rendered necessary, we
cannot but lament the glaring neglect of scientific
principles involved in them. If soot were a necessary
product of combustion—if fuel, when burned, could
not give off heat without yielding soot also, then we
might legitimately confine attention to the best mode
of removing the soot thus formed. But such is a seri-
ous and a most expensive error. Soot is not a result
of combustion; it is fuel—useful carbon—actually
wasted by being driven off into the atmosphere with-
out being made to yield its heating effects. We have
lately had to speak of a rectifying distillery, in which
scarcely any emission of smoke from the chimney can
be detected, although large furnaces are in work; a
result which, besides being profitable to the proprietor
and conducive to the maintenance of cleanliness, is
most instructive as showing what can be done. In
such a case the soot, instead of being allowed to ascend
the chimney, is made to pass over or through burning
fucl, whereby it is itself burned ; all the product being

* ‘British Statesmen,’ First Serics, p. 257.

MAGAZINE. [Aucusr 20,
the gases resulting from combustion, and a very small
portion indeed of useful carbon. That such a plan
may, by judicious and gradual improvement, be intro-
duced Into private dwellings, we firmly believe; in-
deed, the ‘ Arnott’ stoves and ‘Chunk’ stoves of the

resent day are exemplifications of the principle.

hose who appreciate the cheerfulness of an open
English fire rill be startled at Dr. Arnott’s account of
the extravagant cost at which we obtain it. “ We find
that of the whole heat produced from the fuel used,
about seven-eighths ascend the chimney and are abso-
lutely wasted. The loss of heat is, first, the more than
half which is in the smoke as it issues from the
burning mass: secondly, that carried off by the cur-
rent of the warmed air of the room, which is constantly
entering the chimney between the fire and the mantel-
piece and mixing with the smoke ; this is estimated at
nearly two-eighths: thirdly, it is a fact that the black
or visible part of the smoke of a common fire is really
a valuable part of the coal or wood escaping un-
burned. If, then, more than half of the heat produced
be in the smoke, and nearly a fourth of it in the warm
air from the room which escapes with the smoke, and
if about an cighth of the combustible pass away un-
burned, there 1s a loss of at least seven-cighths of the
whole. Count Rumford intimated the loss at still
more—viz., fourteen-fifteenths.” *

As we are on the threshold of a system which will
urge re on every one the expediency of pro-
ducing as little uscless smoke as possible, it may be
interesting briefly to notice the steps by which the
legislature has brought about this result. Humanity
has been the guiding motive; but if cleanliness and
economy should likewise be induced, the authors of
the change will be trebly rewarded for their efforts.

Jonas Hanway, the philanthropist, who has left a
name so eminent in connexion with schemes for
alleviating human suffering, appears to have been
the first to draw attention to the hard lot of the
‘climbing-boys.’ In the year 1778 Hanway, in con-
junction with other gentlemen, prepared a bill to be
brought into parliament for the purpose of protecting
these boys in the conduct of their trade. The bill
contained a variety of provisions for that purpose, but
the principal ones were rejected by the House of
Lords; aad the remainder were formed into an act
which regulated the trade—or we may almost say left
it unregulated—for a great number of years.

In the year 1800 the ‘Society for Bettering the Con-
dition of the Poor’ took up'the subject, and induced
the most respectable master chimney-sweepers to enter
into an association and subscription for promoting the
cleanliness and health of the boys in their respective
establishments. The next step was by the formation
of a Society of benevolent persons, whose object was to
supersede, so far as they could, the necessity of em-
ploying climbing-boys for cleansing chimneys. By this
Society, which was established in 1803, inspectors were
appointed to give an account of all the master chimney-
sweepers within the Bills of Mortality, their general
character, their conduct towards their apprentices, and
the number of those apprentices. The details obtained
by this investigation were saddening. It was found
that of the two hundred master chimney-sweepers in
London, not one-tenth appeared generally to conform
to the Act of 1788. The ages of the apprenticed boys,
by the terms of the Act, were to be between cight and
fourteen years; but there were found instances of
children at the age of six and even less than five em-
plgyed in sweeping chimneys. The greater majority
of hays were apprenticed by the parish authoritics,
asmall premium being given with each; while many
instances occurred of parents selling their children,

* ¢ Essay on Warming and Ventilating.’

18129.J TIIE PENNY MAGAZINE. 323

for three, four, or five guineas, to the master chimney-
sweepers. Female children had occasionally been
employed, but not in London. The result of the
investigation was, that the Society prepared a Bill,
whose chief feature was the appointing of certain
guardians and trustees, empowered to license and
register all master chimney-sweepers w.thin ten miles
of London, and to provide some permanent alo
ment for the apprentices when their indentures should
have expired. This Bill passed the House of Cominons,
but was thrown out in the Lords; and no legislative
interference seems to have been decided on for many
years. The Society thereupon offered premiums for
the invention of a machine which should supersede
the necessity of employing climbing-boys; a course
which seems to have been the chief means of bringing
about the recent changes.

In 1817 a Committee of the House of Commons was
appointed to investigate the matter; and in their
Report, after speaking of the mode of apprenticeship,
&c., the Committee remark :—“ But it 1s not only the
early and hard labour, the spare diet, wretched lodg-
ing, and harsh treatment, which is the lot of these
children ; but in general they are kept almost entirely
destitute of education, and moral or religious instruc-
tion: they form a sort of class by themselves, and from
their work being done early in the day, they are turned
into the streets to pass their time in idleness and
depravity. Thus they become an easy prey to those
whose occupation it is to delude the ignorant and
entrap the unwary; and if their constitution is strong
enough to resist the diseases and deformities which
are the consequences of their trade, and that they
should grow so much in stature as no longer to be
useful in it, they are cast upon the world without any
means of obtaining a livelihood, with no habits of
industry, or rather, what too frequently happens, with
confirmed habits of idleness and vice.” The Com-
mittee examined builders, the more respectable master
chimney-sweepers, inventors of sweeping-machines,
and members of benevolent institutions ; and the
united testimony of the whole went to the fact that
three-fourths of all the metropolitan chimneys might
be swept by machines aria invented, as well and as
cleanly as by boys, and that the remaining fourth could
be cheaply altered. The final result of the investiga-
tion was, a recommendation on the part of the Com-
te that the use of climbing-boys should be abolished

y law.

To those who are not very familiar with parliamen-
tary usages, it may appear strange that twenty-five
years have been suffered to clapse before this measure

as been adopted ; but the ferment of politics, and the
caution necessary in interfering with private trade,
will account for the delay. In 1834a step was made
in the road to improvement, by repealing the act of
1788, and passing another more stringent. By the
terms of the new act, no boy could be apprenticed to
a chimney-swecper ata less age than ten years; no
chimney-sweeper could take an apprentice unless he
(the master) were a housekeeper ; every apprentice
between ten and fourtecn years of age was to havea
leathern cap, with a brass plate on which was inscribed
the namcs of the master and the apprentice, and the
date of the apprenticeship; to compel an apprentice
or any other person to ascend a chimney with a view
of cxtinguishing fire was to be deemed a misde-
meanour; no boys were to be let out to hire from
one master chimney-sweeper to another; boys were
to have a trial of the occupation before apprenticeship,
and if they then disliked it, the indentures were not
to besigned ; chimneys were to be built with attention
to certain stipulations as to form and dimensions;
and the boys were not allowed to call or hawk in the

streets. This act, which was to remain in force till
Jan. 1, 1840, greatly lessened the miseries of the poor
boys.

At last, in 1840, was passed that act which is now in
operation, and which will probably lead to many im-
portant improvements hereafter. The operation of
the act of 1834 was further extended to July lst, in
the present year (1842) an which day the new act
came into operation. By the terms of the new act the
employing of climbing-boys is utterly interdicted,
whether by ascent or descent, whether for sweeping o.
for extinguishing fires. No new apprentices are to
be taken nor old ones retained under sixteen years of
aze ;—another mode of compelling the adoption of
machines instead of swecping-boys. The chimneys of
houses hereafter to be built are restricted as to form
and dimensions, with a view of facilitating the employ-
ment of machines in cleansing them.

It is observable that the act now in operation does
not proceed on any principle of smoke-consuming
contrivances. It meets the present state of practice,
by affording the means of removing the soot which
may accumulate in a chimney. But we may hope
that the necessity for such precautions will become
less and less, as the true principles of combustion
become better known. Let us only work out lo their
legitimate effects the results which many manufac-
turers have shown to be practicable, and we may per-
haps find that a metallic tube, four or five inchcs in
diameter, will suffice for carrying off all the gaseous
products of combustion, provided we get over the
absurdity of throwing away valuable fuel in the form
of smoke. If inventive ingenuity could bring about
the general use of smoke-consuming fire-places, we
should save a vast quantity of fuel, and alinost entirely
prevent the formation of soot, as well as of those float-
ing particles, so common and so annoying in the
atmosphere of all great towns, under the name of
‘blacks.’ *

It does not appear that in England the trade of chim-
ney-sweeping has been confined to any class of persons
in particular, unless indeed the poor, the deserted, and
the ill-used, from whom the apprentices have been
mostly chosen, may be called a class. In France,
however, the case is very remarkable. It is said that
all the Parisian chimney-sweepers are either Pied-
montese or Savoyards, who unite to the industry and
capability of bearing fatigue peculiar to the moun-
taineer, the adroit subtlety of the Italian character.
The little town of Domo d’ Ossola, in Piedmont, has
almost as much celebrity for raising climbing-boys as
Bergamo has for tenor-singers and Bologna for sau-
sages. However the case may be abroad, we may
perhaps look forward to the time when the cry of
‘“‘Sweep! Soot, oh!” as well as the system with which it
was connected, will be reckoned among the bygone
features of English life.

* There was a paper on this subject read at the late meeting
of the British Association for the Promotion of Science at Mau-
chester; and in the ‘ Report of the Metropolis Improvement
Society,’ just published, che importance of smoke-prevention is
pointedly mentioned; and it is added that the Society have
taken steps for the accomplishment of this desirable object.

Enormous Chimney.—The gigantic chimney of the St. Rollox
chemical-works, Glasgow, is probably the highest in the world.
It rises to the elevation of 436 feet above the ground, or 32 feet
higher than the cross which surmounts St. Paul's Cathedral.
The base at the surface of the ground is 40 feet 3 inclics in dia-
meter, from which it contracts to a diameter of about 11 feet at
the summit. Two millions of bricks have been used in this
remarkable structure, which is nearly 200 fect higher than the
loftiest chimneys existing in the neighbourhood ah a

324 THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

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(Jellalaba:l —From a Sketch recently taken.]

AFGHANISTAN.

AFGHANISTAN, & country to which public attention
has recently been strongly directed, is situated between
Persia and India. In Mr. Elphinstone’s valuable work
on the ‘ Kingdom of Caubul,’ there is a general sum-
mary of the principal features of the Afghans, and
their country, which, although of some length, we
willingly extract, as it conveys a very lively idea of
both, by one whose judgment and discrimination are
entitled to the highest respect. Mr. Elphinstone
remarks, that “If a man could be transported from
England to the Afghaun country, without sing
through the dominions of Turkey, Persia, or Tartary,
he would be amazed at the wide and unfrequented
deserts, and the mountains, covered with perennial
snow. Even in the cultivated part of the country, he
would discover a wild assemblage of hills and wastes,
unmarked by enclosures, not embellished by trees, and
destitute of navigable canals, public roads, and all the
great and elaborate productions of human industry and
refinement. He would find the towns few, and far
distant from each other; and he would look in vain
for inns or other conveniences, which a traveller would
mect with in the wildest parts of Great Britain. Yet
he would sometimes be delighted with the fertility and
po pweunes of particular plains and valleys, where
e would see the productions of Europe mingled in
haa with those of the torrid zone; and the land
aboured with an industry and a judgment nowhere
surpassed. He would see the inhabitants, followin
their flocks in tents, or assembled in villages, to whick
the terraced roofs and mud walls give an appearance
entirely new. He would be struck at first with their
high and even harsh features, their sun-burned coun-
tenances, their long beards, their loose garments, and
their shaggy mantles of skins. When he entered into
the society, he would notice the absence of regular

courts of justice, and of everything like an organized

lice. He would be surprised at the fluctuation and
instability of the civil institutions. He would find it
difficult to comprehend how a nation could subsist in
such disorder; and would pity those who were com-
pelled to pass their days in such a scene, and whose
minds were trained by their ped situation to fraud
and violence, to rapine, deceit, and revenge. Yet he
would scarce fail to admire their martial and lofty spirit,
their hospitality, and their bold and simple manners,
equally removed from the suppleness of a citizen and
the awkward rusticity of a clown; and he would, pro-
bably, before Jong discover, among so many qualities
that excited his disgust, the rudiments of many
virtues.”

The Afghans are placed in another striking point o1
view by i! ey them visited by the Anglo-Indian
traveller. uch a one, Mr. E epg remarks,
“would be pleased with the cold climate, elevated by
the wild and novel scenery: and delighted by meeting
many of the productions of his native land. He would
first be struck with the thinness of the fixed population,
and then with the appearance of the people ; not flut-
tering in white muslins, while half their bodies are
naked, but soberly and decently attired in dark-coloured
woollen clothes, and wrapt up in brown mantles, or
in large sheep-skin cloaks. He would admire their
strong and active forms, their fair complexions and
European features; their industry and enterprise ;
the hospitality, sobriety, and contempt of pleasure
which apreey in all their habits ; and, above all, the
independence and energy of their character. In India,
he would have left a country where every movement
originates in the government or its agents, and where
the people absolutely go for nothing; and he would
find himself among a nation where the control of the
government is scarcely felt, and where every man
appears to pursue his own inclinations, undirected and

1842.]

unrestrained, Amidst the stormy independence of this
mode of life, he would regret the ease and security in
which the state of India, and even the indolence and
timidity of its inhabitants, enable most parts of that
country to repose. He would meet with many pro-
ductions of art and nature that do not exist in India;
but, in gencral, he would find the arts of life less
advanced, and many of the luxuries of Hindostan
unknown. On the whole, his impression of his new
acquaintances would be favourable; although he
would feel that, without having lost the ruggedness of
a barbarous nation, they were tainted with the vices
common to all Asiatics. Yet, he would reckon them
virtuous, compared with the people to whom he had
been accustomed; would be inclined to regard then
with interest and kindness; and could scarcely deny
them a portion of his esteem.”

The key to the fundamental political condition of the
Afghan people is to be found in their distribution in
tribes. They trace their origin to Kyse Abdooreshed,
pela a fabulous ancestor, who is represented as

aving been a descendant of Abraham ; but the ques-
tion of their Jewish extraction is not altogether set at
rest. Kyse left four sons, from whom sprung the four
great divisions of the Afghan people and though the
four original divisions are now disused, each tribe
traces a connection to one of these progenitors. Mr.
Elphinstone states that “ the tribes continue in a great
measure unmixed, each having its territory compact ;”
and he points out the process by which they have
arrived at their present state. ‘As long as the num-
ber of families was small, they were all under the
direction of their common progenitor: as they grew
more numerous, the four great divisions separated,
and were each under the head of its eldest branch; but
when the nation spread over an extensive country, and
the tribes of the same division began to be remote from
each other, their connection loosened, and each tribe
remained at last under its own hereditary chief, entirely
independent of the common head of the race.” These
tribes or independent branches he regards as so many
‘“‘clannish commonwealths,” and the authority of a
common sovereign unites them into one state. The
royal prerogative extends to the levying of troops and
revenue in fixed proportions from each tribe, but the
manner in which it is exercised is diversified by various
circumstances, being more complete in the towns and
in the plains than in the less accessible and remote
parts of the country, where the interests of the tribe
are considered by themselves as superior to that of the
state; and as a conscquence of this political state, there
zre tribes who do not acknowledge the supremacy of
the sovereign. The independence commonly enjoyed
by the tribes, though it is at the expense of some
benefits, exempts them from the disorders which are
felt in despotic countries when the supreme authority
is deranged or broken, or tyrannically exercised. Mr.
Elphinstone traces many elements of the Afghan
character to “the occupation and interest, the sense of
independence and personal consequence which result
from a popular government, however rudely formed ;
and the courage, the intelligence, and the elevation of
character which those occupations and that indepen-
dence never fail to inspire.” The free spirit of their
institutions is the commonest theme of Afghan poetry ;
and on one occasion, when Mr. Elphinstone contrasted
the quiet and security which might be enjoyed under
a powerful monarch, to the evils which spring from
their present condition, an old man, who had listened
to him, closed an indignant oration by saying :—‘* We
are content with discord, we are content with alarms,
we are content with blood, but we will never be con-
tent with a master.” The extreme simplicity of their
social constitution undoubtedly leads to many evils.

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

325

The laws are adapted only to the rudest state of socicty,
and the notion that it is every man’s right to do himself
justice leads to acts of retaliation, constant feuds, and
bloodshed.

Mr. Elphinstone in 1809 estimated the population
of Afghanistan at fourteen millions, consisting of
Afghans, Persians, and Indians; the Afghans forming
rather more than a third of the whole population.
The large towns are chiefly inhabited by Persians and
Indians, as an Afghan never keeps a shop or exercises
a trade. Many of the western tribes live entirely in
black coarse woollen tents, and migrate from place to

lace with their flocks. The dwellers in houses are,
lowever, the most numerous part of the Afghan popu-
lation, and agriculture is extending.

The history of Afghanistan is remarkable for the
number of conquerors who have from time to time
ruled over the country, though their sway may in
many cases have been but little felt by the great body
of the people. In the tenth century a chief of Kho-
rassan conquered the country, and made Ghiznee the
seat of his government. Two centuries afterwards a
descendant of the ancient princes overthrew this dy-
nasty, and extended his empire from the Tigris to thie
Ganges. Genghis Khan snatched one-half of the
empire frown this family, and ruled over the plains of
Afghanistan, while the Afghans retained the throne of
India. For a century alter the death of Tamerlane,
in 1405, Afghanistan remained independent, when the
Emperor Baber, one of his descendants, conquered
Caboul, and fixed the seat of his empire in the city of
the same name. The plains were divided between the
empires of India and Persia. The Mogul empire fell
to pieces on the death of Aurungzebe in 1707, when
an Afghan tribe conquered Persia, and founded an
ephemeral empire of vast extent, which was over-
thrown by Nadir Shah of Persia, who annexed Afghani-
stan to his dominions. In 1747, Ahmeed Shah, an
officer of an Afghan troop in the service of Persia, re-
founded the Afghan monarchy, which was maintained
until the death of his successor in 1793. Ahmeed was
of the Douranee tribe, and the limits over which his
sway extended is spoken of as the Douranee empire.
Four of the sons of Ahmeed’s successor disputed, and
in turn possessed, the throne; and during this civil
war several of the principal chiefs threw off their
allegiance, and the Douranee empire ceased to exist,
but was split up into the chiciships of Candahar,
Herat, Caboul, and Peshawur. Herat afterwards be-
came a dependency of Persia, and Shah Shoojah ool
Moolook, the chief of Peshawur, lost his power after
having enjoyed it for about six years. Dost Mahomed
Khan, the chief of Caboul, according to the testimony
of the late Sir Alexander Burnes, writing in 1832,
governed his territory with great judgment, improved
its internal administration and resources, and became
the most powerful chief in Afghanistan. Shah Shooja
was for many years a fugitive and a pensioner of the
British government. He made one unsuccessful at-
tempt to regain his territory, but Peshawur eventual]
became a tributary to the ruler of the Punjab. Suc
was the state of Afghanistan in 1836. |

In the above year the Anglo-Indian government
complained that Dost Mohammed Khan, chief of
Caboul, had engaged in schemes of aggrandizement
which threatened the stability of the British frontier
in India; and Sir Alexander Burnes, who was sent
with authority to represent to him the light in which
his proceedings were viewed, was compelled to leave
Caboul without having effected any change in his
conduct. The siege of Herat, and the support which
both Dost Mohammed and his brother, the chief of
Candahar, gave to the designs of Persia in Afghani-
stan, the latter chief especially openly assisting the

326 THE PENNY
operations against Herat, created fresh alarm in the
Anglo-Indian government as to the security of our
frontier. Several minor chiefs also avowed their at-
tachment to the Persians. As our policy, insicad of
hostility, required an ally capable of resisting aggres-
sion on the western frontier of India, the Governor-
general, from whose official papers we take these
statements, “‘ was satisfied,” after serious and mature
deliberation, “ that a pressing necessity, as well as
every consideration of policy and justice, warranted us
in espousing the cause of Shah Shooja ool Moolk ;”
and it was determined to place him on the throne.
According to the Governor-general, speaking from the
best authority, the testimony as to Shah Shooja’s popu-
larity was unanimous. In June, 1838, the late Sir
William Macnaghten formed a tripartite treaty with
the ruler of the Punjab and Shah Shooja; the object
of which was to restore the latter to the throne of his
ancestors. This policy it was conceived would con-
duce to the general freedom and security of com-
merce, the restoration of tranquillity upon the most
important frontier of India, and the erection of a
lasting barrier against hostile intrigue and encroach-
ment; and while British influence would thus gain
its proper footing among the nations of Central Asia,
the prosperity of the Afghan people would be pro-
moted.

Troops were despatched from the Presidencics of
Bengal and Bombay to co-operate with the contin-
gents raised by the Shah and our other ally, the united
force being intended to act together under the name
of the ‘ Army of the Indus.’ After a march of extra-
ordinary length, through countries which had never
before becn traversed by British troops, and defiles
which are the most difficult passes in the world, where
no wheelcd-carriage had ever been, and where it was
necessary for the engineers in many places to construct
roads before the baggage could proceed, the combined
forces from Bengal and Bombay reached Candahar
in May, 1839. According to the official accounts, the
population were enthusiastic in welcoming the rcturn
of Shah Shooja. The next step was to advance
towards Ghiznee and Caboul. On the 23rd July, the
strong and important fortress and citadel of Ghiznee,
regarded throughout Asia as impregnable, was taken
in two hours by blowing up the Caboul gate. The
army had only been forty-eight hours before the place.
An ‘explosion party’ carried three hundred pounds of
gunpowder in twelve sand-bags, with a hose seventy-
two feet long, the train was laid and fired, the party
having just time to reach tolerable shelter from the
effects of the concussion, though one of the officers
was injured by its force. On the 7th of August the
army entered Caboul. Dost Mohammed had recalled
his son Mohammed Akhbar from Jellalabad with the
troops guarding the Khyber Pass, and their united
forces amounted to thirteen thousand inen; but these
troops refused to advance, and Dost Mohammed was
obliged to take precipitate flight, accompanied only by
a small number of horsemen. Shah Shooja made a
triumphant entry into Caboul, and the troops of Dost
Mohammed tendered their allegiance to him. ‘The
official accounts state that in his progress towards
Caboul he was joined by every person of rank and in-
fluence in the country. As the tribes in the Bolan
Pass committed many outrages and murders on the
followers of the army of the Indus, at the instigation
of their chief, the Khan of Khelat, his principal town
(Khelat) was taken on the 13th of November, 1839.
he political objects of the expedition had now a pa-
rently been obtained. The hostile chiefs of Caboul
and Candabar were replaced by a friendly monarch.
On the side of Sinde and Herat, British alliance and
protection were courted. AJl this had been accom-

MAGAZINE.

plished in a few months, but at an expense said to
exceed three millions sterling.

Two years afterwards the scene is suddenly reversed
On the Ist of November, 184], the city of Caboul rose
against the British and Shah Shooja; several officers,
including Sir Alexander Burnes and his brother, were
murdered. Our troops, amounting to between five and
six thousand men, were ill supplied with provisions,
and after conflicts kept up at intervals for many days
they were unable to put down the revolt, which was
at length headed by Mohammed Akhbar, son of Dost
Mohammed. A negotiation was now thought neces-
sary, and Sir William Macnaghten, the British envoy,
with four officers, and a small escort, met Mohammed
Akhbar on the 23rd of December, when the latter in
the course of the discussion drew a pistol and shot the
envoy. The extremities of the garrison led to a con-
vention, concluded on the Sth of January, in the pre-
sent year, under which the troops were to be allowed
to march in safety to Jellalabad ; but their cantonments
were scarcely abandoned when they were attacked by
their faithless enemies. The march soon became a
continued flight. The snow was deep on the ground,
the season inclement, and the troops had to fight their
way surrounded by hostile tribes and the frantic and
fanatic Ghazecs. Botan them were the most terrible

asses, in which it was not possible to offer a resistance.
nthe Khoord Caboul Pass, the British and Indian
troops, amounting, with camp-followers, to about
thirteen thousand persons, were massacred, scarcely
half-a-dozen ever reaching Jellalabad. Several ladies
and officers taken as hostages were marched back
to Caboul soon after the commencement of this
frightful retreat. In March of the present year the
garrison of Ghiznee, who had also withdrawn under a
convention, were cut to pieces in the same way.
Afghanistan is again the scene of military opcrations,
and troops from Peshawur have relieved the garrison
shut up in Jellalabad, after marching through the
Khyber Pass, about twenty-eight miles in length, and
which is one of the most difficult in the world as a
line of military defence. Shah Shooja has been mur-
dered, and dissensions have sprung up amongst the
Afghans.

We give a view of Jellalabad, which is on the high
road from India to Caboul, and in another paper shall
offer some account of the place.

[Aucusr 20,

- THE LONDON CANALS.
[Continued from page 319.)

Bur the lock is the more generally employed con-
trivance for changing the level of acanal. A lock is
either single or double; the former being the more
simple of the two. A single lock is an oblong cham-
ber or basin connecting two ‘ pounds’ or ‘ reaches’ of a
canal, the one on a higher level than the other; and
the basin being so constructed that the water in it may
coincide cither with the upper or the Jower level. At
each end of the chamber, or basin, is a pair of gates,
closing nearly water-tight across it, and provided with
sluices, or doors, which, when opened, allow water to
flow from the higher to the lower level. Whena boat
is about to descend the canal, it enters the lock at a
time when, the upper gates being opened and the lower
closed, the water in the lock is on a level with the
upper reach of the canal. The upper gates are then
closed, and the sluices in the lower gates opencd,
whereby the water flows from the lock into the lower
reach until both are onthe same level ; the lower gates
are opened, and the boat proceeds on her way. In
passing up the canal the proceedings are of course
reyersed. But it will be seen that a large body of

1842.]

water must be transferred froin the upper to the lower
level every time that a beat passes the lock; and to
obviate a portion of this waste double locks are provided
in many canals, such as the Regent’s. In a double-
lock there are two oblong chambers, eighty or a
hundred feet long, ranged side by side, with a culvert
or sluice through the wall which separates them ; this
contrivance admits half of each lock-full of water to be
saved. How this is effected we may show by supposing
that the water in one lock is on a Jevel with the upper
canal, and that in the other with the lower, and that a
boat is descending. The boat passes into the full lock,
and all the four pairs of gates are closed. ‘The central
culvert is then opened, by which half the contents of
the full lock passes into the empty one, until both are
at the same level. The boat has thus made half the
required descent, and the other half is effected by
opening the sluice in the lower gates of the lock con-
taining the boat.

The canal proprictors are paid by a toll of so much
per ton on all goods carried per canal ; estimated, not
at the weight of the laden boat and barge, but of the
goods contained therein. As this load: sometimes
amounts to sixty or eighty tons, all the ordinary modes
of weighing become unavailable; but a system has
been devised whereby the object is attained with much
simplicity and correctness. In the first place, a new
harge or fly-boat, when first used in a canal (we speak
of general but perhaps not universal practice), 1s taken
to a kind of covered dock, capable of being enclosed
all around ; and the number, name, owner's name and
residence, date of. construction, &c., are entered in a
book. The gauge-master fixes four plates of iron on
fuur parts of the barge, two near the head, and two
near the stern, and in such places that all shall be at
cqual height above the water. This height is measured
in inches and tenths with great accuracy, and recorded
in the book in connexion with the name and number of
the vessel. Two tons of leaden or iron weights are
then put evenly in the barge, which of course sinks a
little deeper ; and the ‘dry inches,’ or distance from
the surface of the water to each of the four plates, is
asrain measured and recorded. Two tons more are
added, and the result again recorded ; and so on until
the barge has been laden to an extent equal to any
burden which it is afterwards likely to carry. The
principle of procceding, at the subsequent passage of
the barge past the weigh-house, will now be understood
without much difficulty. Suppose, as an instance, that
a boat or barge marked No. 100 in the Company's
books arrive at the weigh-house in its passage with a
cargo of goods, and that it is found on gauging to have
twelve ‘dry inches’ below the guide-plates; on refer-
ing to the books, it is: found that the barge No. 100
sinks to twelve dry inches with a load amounting toa
certain number of tons; and an inference is drawn
that a load of that amount is at that time in the barge.
As the empty barge is re-weighed after any alterations
or repairs which tend to change her weight or floatage,
and as considerable accurac
gauging the barge when laden, the gauge-master is at
all times able to estimate the burden within about a
quarter of a ton; the smallest quantity distinguished
in canal charges. The gauge-rod is often a hollow
tube, containing a light body which will float upon
the surface of the water, and a graduated stem so
adjusted as to obtain the measurement with facility
and correctness.

Such is the general practice of gauging the laden
barges, subject to slight modifications in different
localitics. A laden barge, passing either way along a
canal, is at the discretion of the Company weighed or
gauged, anda ‘permit’ or ‘ pass’ given to the barge-

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

1s attained in the mode of

327

man ; while the tonnage, and the toll payable for it,
are entered against the proprictor of the barge. The
weigh-houses are so placed in the line of canal as to
take cognizance of all the traffic.

At the wharf of Messrs. Pickford and Co., in the
City Road, can be witnessed, on a larger scale than
at any other part of the kingdom, the general opera-
tions connected with canal traffic.

This large establishment nearly surrounds the south-
ern extremity of the City Road basin. From thie
coach-road we can sce little of the premises ; but on
passing toa street in the rear we come to a pair of large
folding gates opening into an area or court, and we
cannot remain here many minutes, especially in the
morning and evening, without witnessing a scene of
astonishing activity. From about five or 81x o'clock in
the evening waggons are pouring in from various parts
of town, laden with goods intendcd to be sent into the
country per canal. In the morning, on the other hand,
laden waggons are leaving the establishment, convey-
ing to different parts of the metropolis goods which
have arrived per canal during the night.

On entering the open area we find the eastern side
bounded by stabling, where a large number of horses
are kept during the intervals of business. In the centre
of the area is the general warehouse, an enormous
roofed building with open sides; and on the left are
ranges of offices and counting-houses.

To one who is permitted to visit these premiscs there
1s perhaps nothing more astonishing than to see upwards
of a hundred clerks engaged in managing the busincss
of the establishment; exhibiting a system of classifica-
tion and subdivision mostcomplete. In order toshow
the necessity for such an amount of mental labour, we
may mention that the firm have establishments in nearly
every part of England, conducted by their own servants,
for the general management of canal traffic. Ina map
engraved for the firm the names of ninety-seven towns
are given where establishments wholly belonging to
the firm are kept up for the management of the canal
traffic; besides another list relating wholly to railroad
traffic. At all of these places the whole commercial
machinery of a carrier's establishment is maintained ;
so that a cargo of goods dispatched from Messrs.
Pickford’s wharf in London is consigned to their own
servants at the particular country station, and thence
delivered to the proper parties.

Hence arises a most extensive system of corre-
spondence and supervision, in which all the branch
establishments look up to the parent establishment in
London. In one of the offices of the counting-house,
for example, the wall is covered by folios or cases,
each inscribed with the name of one particular district,
and each devoted to the reception of letters, inquiries,
and other communications from the managers of the
branch establishment to which it relates. In another
department of the counting-house, with its own particu-
lar corps of clerks, are managed all the transactions rc-
specting the horses, provender, boats, and waggons. The
number of these, all belonging to the firm, is enormous ;
and every direction concerning them, whether relating
to purchase, repair, or general management—whethecr
relating to the parent establishment, or a branch esta-
blishment two hundred miles distant—emanates from
this office. In another department is managed all
the business relating to charges and disbursements ;
the rate of charge to be made at the branch establish-
ments, and the general transactions between the firm
and their customers. In a fourth department are
managed all the transactions between the firm and the
canal owners throughout England. The firm have
stations on probably thirty or forty different canals, the

proprietors of which establish rates of tonnage and

329 THE PENNY
gencral reculations independent of cach other ; so that
the accounts with the various canal companies become
voluminous and intricate. A fifth department in the
counting-house relates to the cash transactions, wherein
the branch stations are brought into communication
with the parent establishment as regards actual re-
ceipts. <A sixth is the stationery office, in which are
kept all the supplies of paper, plain and printed, for
all the establishments. The printed papers are very
numerous, and as each kind has a particular number
attached to it, the manager of a country station sends
up to town for a supply of any varicty which he may
require.

All the above offices, occupying an extensive range
of rooms in the upper part of the counting-house, re-
late to the affairs as a whole, serving to bring all the
links into one chain. Below these are the offices in
which the business of the London establishment, consi-
dered as only one member of the series, is managed.
All the goods received from London to be dispatched
into the country, the parties from whom received, the
wageons by which brought, the boats into which
packed, the persons to whom consigned ; all the goods
received from the country, and the steps by which they
gradually reach the consignee—are recorded, and
the general arrangements managed, in these lower
Offices.

Let us now suppose that a London merchant wishes
to send a cargo of goods to Manchester per canal, and
that it is through the machinery of Messrs. Pickford’s
establishment that the transit is to be effected. There
are, in addition to receiving-houses in different parts
of town, two offices, one at the east, and the other at
the west end of London, where merchandize is col-
lected for canal transit. Another establishment ona
very large scale, maintained by the same firm at Cam-
den Town, we shall not here particularly allude to, as
it relates wholly to railroad traffic. One of the two
town-offices, the ‘Castle,’ in Wood-street, presents an
animated and bustling scene towards evening, when
waggons, laden with packages received during the day,
are about to be dispatched to the City Road wharf. On
arriving at the wharf, each waggon draws up by the side
of an elevated platform, provided with conveniences for
unlading waggonsand loading boats. From the southern
extremity of the basin a branch turns to the east, nearly
separating the yard into two portions. The portion on
the southern side of this branch is called the ‘ discharg-
Ing warehouse, and that in the northern the ‘shippin
warehouse. The waggons, coming in laden wit
00d, proneet to the shipping-warehouse, where they
are unladen, and the goods placed temporarily in
groups on the platform of the warehouse. Each
froup is to form the cargo for one boat, so that there
are aS many groups as there are to be cargoes. The
boats are drawn up at the side of the ‘shipping ware-
house,’ and are there laden. We will suppose that
one is to start for Manchester that evening: into this
one, therefore, are consigned all the goods brought by
the various waggons from the receiving offices destined
for the Manchester district; each package being
weighed, checked, and properly registered before
being placed in the boat. We saw on a recent occasion
a large and valuable cargo of indigo, consigned to a
Manchester manufacturer from a London house, and
dispatched by the sort of commercial machinery here
described. In each boat are placed packages going to
places as much as possible contiguous to each other,
so that the cargo may not be unpacked until it has
nearly reached its destination.

(To be continued.)

MAGAZINE. [AUGUST 20),

An Arab Town in Algerta.—We find the following descrip
tion of the Arab town of Tebessa, of which the French have ree
cently taken possession, in a despatch addressed by General
Negrier to the minister of war:—“The town of Tebessa, the
ancient Thevessa of the Romans, is one of the finest parts of the
province of Constantina. It stands at the foot and on the north-
ern side of the mountains of Bou Romann, which inclose the
basin of the Oued Chabro, a tributary of the Oued Meskiana
from the right. Here are to be found delicious water, beautiful
gardens, and an immense plain irrigated by numerous springs,
which discharge themselves into the Oued Chabro, that winds
along the bottom of the valley, The numerous ruins and traces
of Roman stations scattered around the monuments of art found
in Tebessa itself, and the other testimonials of grandeur and
luxury still apparent, attest the value set by the Romans on thig
part of their conquests, and that, where there is now a popula-
tion of not more than one thousand five hundred Arabs, there
existed in those times between thirty thousand and forty thoue
sand inhabitants. The Roman fortress of Thevessa is still stand-
ing. It consists of a rectangular tower of nearly equal sides,
and surrounded by a wall measuring one thousand five hundred
yards in extent, built of squared stone. At different distances
in the line of the wall are fourteen square towers, four of which
stand at the angles, and the rest with irregular spaces between
them. Three are fronting the western and southern faces of the
great tower, and only two opposite its eastern and southern sides,
The height of the wall varies from fifteen to thirty feet, and that
of the towers from thirty to thirty-six feet. The thickness is be-
tween six and cight feet. There are two entrances, which the
Arabs call Bab cl Djedid (the new gate), and Bab el Kedim
(the old gate). The first gives access to the town between the
two towers fronting the east, which is scarcely wider than
between ten and twelve feet. The other gate is surmounted by
a triumphal arch, in the style of the best period of the Roman
dominion, and which has since been formed into two towers in
the north front of the inclosure. This monument remains almost
entire, but is partly concealed by walls, which have filled up
the intervals between the columns and the arches which support
the upper part. The arch is of the Corinthian order, and all
its architectural decorations are as fresh as if they were sculp-
tured yesterday. They are in remarkable pure and delicate
style, Latin inscriptions record the dates of its original con-
struction, and of its restoration, after being devastated by the
barbarians. One of the inscriptions is in very large and plain
characters. Another inscription, a little above the Arab gate, in
smaller letters, several of which are illegible, is of a more recent
date, and relates that the first Thevessa, built by the Romans,
and destroyed by the barbarians, was raised from its ruins by
Solomon after the expulsion of the Vandals of the north of
Africa. Inside the town, near the old gate, is a small temple
still perfect, the form and architectural style of which very
much resembles the Maison Carrée at Nismes. The height of
this temple is thirty-five fect four inches from the ground, in its
present state, Its length measurcs forty-seven feet six inches,
and the width of the portico is twenty-nine feet ten inches. This
building is of the Corinthian order. The portico is composed
of eight columns, surmounted by an entablature with a cornice,
and an attic enriched with very curious allegorical designs. exe-
cuted with the utmost perfection. The columns are formed of
single blocks of a very fine red marble. The rest of the temple
is supported by pilasters in the same style as the portico. To-
wards the south-east of the town, at about two hundred yards
from the new gate, isa circus of elliptical form. The axis of
the inner court measures at its greatest length sixty-three yards,
and at its smallest fifty-five yards. The extreme length of the
exterior is eighty-seven yards, The raised seats are sixteen in
number, and are capable of accommodating six thousand spec-
tators. From the sides of the mountain of Bou Roumann flows
an abundant stream of water, which the Romans conveyed into
the town by an aqueduct seven hundred and sixty-five yards
in length. It still exists across a ravine filty feet im depth.
In some parts it has been roughly repaired by the Arabs, Lut
it is the Roman canal which still brings to Tebessa all the
water required for the inhabitants and their gardens. At about
one thousand three hundred yards from the north wall of the
town are immense ruins, supposed to be those of a temple of
Justice, but it belongs to antiquaries alone to determine the
destination of cach of its parts.”

1842.]

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

mat 7 Pz >

SQAQAE MS iws >
CD Zs Ue Ps
“& pice Uk Ley) rs

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(Roman Peasantry.—From Pincelli ]

ROMAN PEASANTRY.

BarroLtomMeo Pinelli, who designed the various
groups of brigands which are so well known, deline-
ated with the same spirit and truthfulness the sports
and pastimes, the costumes and the striking customs
of the peasantry of the Roman states, where, in many
respects, the living population bear the impress of
antiquity, and are probably but little changed from
what the people were
“ When He from Troy
Went up the Tiber.”

The difference in costume between one district and
another leads back to the time when the Campagna of
Rome, and the hills that gird it, were divided into a
mamber of small, separate, and independent states ;
and in some few cases it marks as clearly the extent of
those miniature republics, or patriarchal kingdoms, as
they could be marked by Cluverius or the most learned
on the subject of ancient geography. Each of these
districts preserves its own costume distinct from that
of its neighbours, and not the slightest change or varia-
tion is allowed init. What we call ‘fashion’ is an
arbiter utterly unknown among the peasantry of the
south of Italy. Every man, and every woman too,
dress precisely as their father and mother had done
before them, and as their progenitors had dressed for
ages. In some of the most rural districts there seems
to have been scarcely the slightest. change either in
fashion or material since the days of the Cexsars, or the

No. 607,

days of the first consuls, or the still remoter times of
the kingly rulers: the coats of the men are undressed
sheep-skins with the fleece on them, and the rest of
their attire is made of flax cultivated in their own
fields, spun with the distaff, and woven with a loom
quite as simple as any that could have been in use
even in the days of Homer, by their own women. In
several parts of the Campagna of Rome the dresses of
both sexes are identically the same as we see repre-
sented in bassi-rilievi and other sculptures in the
Vatican, or in the great gallery at Florence, or in the
splendid museuin at Naples, so rich with the spoils of

erculaneum and Pompeii. The same antiquily or
identity of costume is found in innumerable districts
of the Neapolitan kingdom; but the most striking
instance we remember was one that fell under our own
observation at Pestum. In making some slight exca-
vations near those glorious old temples—

“They stand between the mountains and the sea;
Awful memorials, but of whom we know not !""*

that were ancient edifices before the tine of the first of
the Cwsars, the workmen discovered a great many fe-
male figures beautifully executed in fine clay, or terra
cotta, and the costume of these figures, which must have
been lying buried at that spot for some two thousand
years, was the same, without the slightest variation, as
the dress of the living female peasantry of the district.
Thus in traversing the country which was anciently

* Rogers's ‘Italy.’

Vou, XJ.—-2 U

330 THE PENNY
the abode of the Lucanians, the Brutii, the Apulians,
the Samnites, the Volscians, the Latini, the Vcians,
&e., the traveller may fancy that the thin and scattered
population present to the eye nearly the same appear-
ances as the occupants of those regions presented to
their Roman conquerors centuries before the Chris-
tian cra; may, in the midst of ruined temples and
aimphitheatres, aqueducts and tombs, flatter his imagi-
nation that all things have not perished under the
tooth of time; that the most ancient customs have
been preserved, in spite of foreign conquests, wars, and
devastations ; the heart and affections of man, his pre-
dilections and habits being so muich stronger than the
strongest work of his hands.

In the present design, Pinelli, as he usually did,
unites a custom with costume. The little children in
the basket, carried on the heads of the two female pea-
sants, who might pass for Roman wives of the time of
Cornelia, the mother of the Giacchi, are placed and
carried in a manner peculiar to one or two districts
only of the Campagna of Rome. At least we never
observed the curious practice in any other part of
Italy. The baskets made of osiers that grow by the
yellow Tiber, or the streams with classical names that
fall into it, or that in too many cases run wild over the
solitary waste, to form the Pontine marshes and malaria,
are lined inside with rough cotton or uncombed wool,
that the little bantlings may lie softly and comfortably,
while, to prevent their throwing themselves out, the
basket is crossed at the top by narrow bands of platted
straws orsmall osiers. The little urchins, in short, are
secured nearly in the same way as our stone jars are
secured in hampers, With her infant on her head in
one of these curious baskets, a paesana will trudge for
miles to fair‘or market, or to take part in the labours
of the field, much too large a portion of which falls
to the females in Italy; or to tend the flock, or to go
to mass on a Sunday or saint’s day. We have scen
theim, when the infant has been sleeping and perfectly
stiil, take their distaffs from their girdle, and go along
spinning and singing, balancing the basket on their
heads without any help from the hands, and apparently
without any exertion. Water is nearly always carried
home from the fountain or the rivulet in the same
manner ; and then the hands are never used except
to ae the vase or vessel upon the head. The women
of India have this last tashion of carrying water; and
various English artists have delineated their graceful
elastic forms, and the easy and seemingly instinctive
way in which they balance and carry their large light
vessels. In the south of Italy these vases are often
found of the beautiful, the graceful, and truly antique
forms; and nothing can exceed the case and graceful-
ness of some of those who are seen bearing them. The
material is gencrally of the coarsest kind; but would
that our Staffordshire potters adopted their elegance
of forms !

There was one fine young woman that we used
frequently to notice at Rome some years ago. She
was what they called, in their language, which calls
almost everything by a fine or sonorous name, a ‘Cor-
riere,’ or Courier, her occupation simply being to
bring letters, or messages, or small parcels, or a basket
of fowls or quails, as it might be, from a village at the
foot of the hills, an offset of the Apennines, and to carry
back from Rome other letters, messages, or parcels.
She was, in short, postwoman and carrier united, and the
only medium of communication between her lonely vil-
lage and the eternal city. Twice or thrice a week, under
the burning sun of July, or under the deluge-like rains
of September, this hard-toiling woman made two jour-
neys a weck to and from Rome, her village being some
sixteen Or sy Hani miles from the city, and always she
earried ber last-born child in the basket on her bead,

MAGAZINE. [Aceusr 27,
disposing ofall her other articles in a light open
wicker baket which she carried in her hand. The
poor creature (but we doubt whether the term ought
to be applied to one possessed of ruddy heaJth, a laugh-
ing eye, a most buoyant and queen-like step, and a look
that seemed to say, ‘ Labour is light when we toil for
those we love’) used, on arriving at the city, to suckle
her child by one of the gates, then leave it in charge
of an old woman, and go and execute all her little
commissions. Generally, in the evening of the same
day she was seen taking her departure, loaded as she
came, with her little one on her head, her wicker
basket in her hand, and the traveller's benison going
with her— May the blessed Virgin accompany thee
on thy road!”

THE LONDON CANALS.

(Coucluded from page 328 )

At the hour of six or seven in the evening the scene
which we have just described is presented in its busiest
phase. As a general rule, all merchandize received
during the day is dispatched by boat the same night ;
and as the goods are not brought to the wharf until
toward evening, all the operations of loading and un-
loading are then carried on with great celerity. Each
waggon, as it arrives, draws up by the side of the raised

lattorm; the crane is set to work, the packages and

oxes are taken out; the clerks and warehousc-keepers
prepare the requisite entries and invoices; the goods
are wheeled across the platform to the edge of the
canal; and the boatmen assistin stowing them away in
the boats. There may be half-a-dozen boats dispatched
in the saine evening, all to be filled subsequent to the
arrival of the laden waggons at the wharf at five or six
o'clock. It is from this circumstance that nearly all
the fly-boats leave the wharf late in the evening—
sometimes at midnight—after the busy operations of
the day are completed. The ‘captain,’ or chief boat-
man, receives orders as to its destination and proceed-
ings; and he consigns the goods to the managers of
the establishments at the country towns, from whence
the goods are forwarded to the consignees.

Let us, as a further exemplification of the nature of
canal traffic, suppose that a Manchester manufacturer
forwards a cargo of cottons to London by canal through
the same agency. They are placed in charge of Messrs.
Pickford’s agents at Manchester, by whom they are dis-

atched to London in a fly-boat; daily information be-
ing conveyed from the country agent to the town esta-
blishment of the nature and extent of the consignments.
The boat arrives at the City Road basin, generally in
the evening or during the night; and it remains un-
touched till the business hours of the next morning. It
is then drawn up to the side of the ‘discharging ware-
house,’ where a crane speedily removes the cargo.
Each package, after being weighed, compared with the
invoice, &c., is placed in one or other of several sepa-
rate groups. These groups do not relate to the places
whence the goods have been brought, or the barges by
which brought, but to different districts in London, and
to the waggon or waggons going tu those districts. All
the boats which may have arrived since the precedin
morning are thus unladen, the contents classified, an
wagegons drawn up for this purpose to the side of the
‘discharging warehouse ‘ are laden, cach one with the
packages consigned to one particular district. The
waggcons are then dispatched, and the boats wait tilla
return cargo is ready.

It may easily be imagined that as every package is
registered in books and invoices, bills and other docu-
ments, with great strictness, the amount of business
transacted during the morning and evening is very
extensive ; while the middle of the day is occupied by

1842.] THE PENNY
other transactions of a general character. Sometimes
a package, or cargo of packages, is directed to be
warehoused at the wharf till called for; and for the
accommodation of these a large area of ground’ map-
propriated. In walking through these warehouses,
yoods of a multifarious character may often be seen,
according to the circumstances of trade at the mo-
ment; Cheshire cheeses, bales of cotton goods, spadcs,
barrels of aleand cider—indced, all kinds of commodi-
lies are occasionally required to be warehoused for short
periods, each warehouse being devoted to a particular
class of goods.

As the waggons and horses for the land transit belong
to the firm, so do the boatsalso. Each boat is managed
by three or four men and boys, of whom onc is the
pore and is called the ‘ Captain’ of the boat. Into

is charge is placed the cargo; he receives a certain
sum for navigating the boat a certain number of inilcs,
and out of this sum he pays his assistants. The pro-
prietors fit up the little cabin which serves for ‘ parlour
and kitchen and all;’ but the men supply their own
provisions. The open barges which are to be seen on
the Regent’s Canal do not belong to Messrs. Pickford,
they are the property of the merchants who deal in
coal, stone, slate, and other heavy materials, and who
have wharfs on the banks of the canal and its basins.
Most of the coal is brought from colliers lying in the
Thames, through the Limehouse basin into the canal ;
but sone is brought down the canal from the Midland
oe as is also a considerable quantity of stone,
ime,

The period at which this article was written en-
ables us to offer a word of information respecting the
‘Annual Stoppage’ on canals. Jt may readily be
conceived that in an undertaking involving so diver-
sified an assemblage of parts, so incessant a wear
and tear, as a canal, repairs and reconstructions
must be required at intervals. The locks may become
out of repair; the brick-work of the tunnels and
bridges may be defective ; the bed of the canal may be
choked with sand and silt at particular parts; the
steam-tug may require overhauling; the barges and
fly-boats may need inspection—in_ short, a gencral
supervision may become necessary. Many such repairs
as these require that the canal should be emptied cf
water at particular spots ; a course which causes a tem-
porary cessation of the customary traffic. In order,
then, that this stoppage may preducc the least amount
of inconvenience to canal carriers and the commercial
world generally, the directors of most English canals
select the same period of the year for the annual ex-
amination, dredging, and repairing. During the second
week in June, for example, in the present year, the
Regent’s Canal, as well as many (we believe most)
others throughout England, was ‘stopped.’ Whoever,
during that week, happened to visit the canal near the
eastern end of the Islington tunnel, or near the gas-
works at St. Pancras, or near the locks at the Hampstead
Road, might have seen the canal nearly dry at those
parts, and men ney engaged in digging out mud and
sediment which had been found to impede the naviga-
tion. A portion of the canal is in such case cut off
from communication with the main line, by a barrier
of boards placed across it at either end, and the con-
taincd water is drawn off. Where it can conveniently
be done, the barrier is fixed under one of the bridges,
or in some other part where the canal presents a small
width, in order to facilitate the adjustment of a vertical
water-tight system of boarding. The water is drawn
off by siphons and steam-engines, and the enclosed arca,
on the principle of acoffer-dam, is kept empty until the
repairs arecompleted. The barriers are then removed,
and the water from the higher parts of the canal flows

MAGAZINE. 331
in to fill up the void. The whole arrangements are so
planned as to enable the commencement and the ter-
mination of the stoppage to take place at appointed
days ; and since the canal traffic 1s necessanly sus-
pended during this period, an accumulation of business
ensues, which gives rise to a scene of great activity
immediately on the termination of the stoppage.

ON RIVERS, GEOGRAPHICALLY CON-
SIDERED.

Rivers are the flowing waters, which bring to the
sca, and sometimes to « lake, the waters which are
collected within a certain portion of the earth’s surface.
The country which is thus drained: by a river is called
its basin, as the river runs in the lowest part of it, and
the country rises on all sides with greater or less stcep-
ness, in the fashion of the sides of a basin. The margin
of such a basin generally lies contiguous to the basin
of another river, and thas constitutes the boundary-
line of the two basins. From these margins the waters
descend on both sides towards their respective basins,
which are separated by them, and hence the whole
line of these margins is called a watershed. -

The basins of rivers vary greatly in size. A brook
is the name commonly given to rivers of the smallest
description. When such a river rises near the sea or
near a large river, into one of which it flows after a
short course, it consequently drains a very smal] sur-
face. Ifthe waters should be increased by those of
another brook, the name of brook is changed for that
of rivulet. The basin of a rivulet is therefore more
complicated than that of a brook. One or more brooks
descend from the margin of the basin, and by uniting
their waters with those of the rivulet, increase its
volume. When several rivulets unite and so produce
a considerable volume of running water, this water-
course takes the name of river. But all such rivers do
not reach the sea or even a lake; most of them join
other rivers, and thus a large river is produced. This
last-mentioned large river is called the principal river,
and those which increase its waters are called, with
respect to it, affuents or trabutaries, and sometimes
Seeders or branches.

The first waters of a river are generally derived
from a spring, which breaks out at the foot of a
declivity, or on the side of some hill or mountain; and
sometimes from a swamp ora lake. Thisis called the
source of ariver. From this source the river descends
throuch the Jowest part of its basin until it terminates
its course in the sea, a lake, or another river, and this
termination is called the mouth of the river. The
cavity in which the running water flows is called the
bed of the river, and the solid land which bounds this
bed is called its banks.

It was formerly thought that the elevation at which
a river originates must be in proportion to the length
of its course, and accordingly geographers assumed
that there are elevated mountain-ranges in those
regions where large rivers take their rise ; but modern
researches have shown that this is not always the case.
Thus the Volga, which is the largest river of Europe,
and runs above two thousand miles, rises in a district
the most elevated part of which does not exceed 1100
fect above the sea; and the beara Ba which ts still
larger, originates in a tract which can hardly be called
hilly, and at an elevation probably not much exceeding
1500 feet above the sea.

But still most large rivers have their origin in very
elevated mountains or on high table-lands, in descend-
ing from which a great difference with respect to the
rapidity of their course and the nature ae t : country

332 THE PENNY
through which they flow, is observed. According]
geographers divide the whole of the course of suc
rivers into three divisions, the upper, middle, and lower
course. ;

The upper course of such a river lies within a moun-
tain region, and its source is consequently at a great
elevation above the sea. The waters run with greater
or less velocity, according to the greater or less extent
of the mountain-region, and the greater or less rapidity
with which the whole region declines towards the
country to which the course of the river is directed.
When the elevation of the mountain-region decreases
with great rapidity, the current of the river is extremely
rapid, and presents a quick succession of cataracts and
rapids. The force of the current is so great that pieces
of rock of considerable size, which are frequently
detached from the overhanging masses, cannot resist it,
and are carried down by the current, until they reach
a point where the rapidity of the descent begins to
diminish. The mountains which constitute the banks
of the river often rise several thousand feet above it,
and their bases are united by slopes forming an angle,
over which the water runs on bare rocks, without the
least covering of earth. Thus the river dves not flow
in a valley, but ina cleft or ravine, which cuts deep into
the mountain masses. Sometimes there is space enough
for a path between the river and the mountains, but in
many places this space is only obtained by artificial
means, as by cutting away a projecting portion of the
rock, or by making a tunnel throughit. Where
either of these means cannot be applied, the path is
continued over the bed of the river by a wooden bridge
of greater or less extent, until a place is reached which
offers sufficient space for a path on the sides of the
rocks. The course of the river is generally in a
straight line, but sometimes it makes short and abrupt
bends which form acuteangles. Inthe last-mentioned
case it is, almost without exception, observed, that the
mountains which enclose the river have on one side
a projection, and on the other a receding, which cor-
respond so exactly that if it were possible to unite both
mountains, the projecting would exactly fit into the
receding part. This peculiarity in the formation of the
ravines of mountain-streams was observed by the
Spaniards in the Andes of South America, who called
them quebradas, or broken ; by this term tacitly assum-
ing that the phenomenon had been caused by a violent
disruption of the mountains. This description of
mountain-streams and their ravines applies particularly
to those of the western Alps along their southern
declivity, to those rivers which constitute the upper
branches of the rivers Doria and Sesia, to the vallevs
of Anzasca and Vedro on the southern side of the great
road of the Simplon, and to the still larger valley of
Aosta, through which the road leads from Switzerland
to Italy over the mountain-pass of the St. Bernard.
The military road of the Romans was made through
the Val d’Aosta; but in these parts it was only practi-
cable for beasts of burden. Sich deep ravines not
only occur between the gigantic elevations of a high
range, but likewise in the elevated table-lands. Hum-
boldt observes that the Plain of Quito, which is nearly
ten thousand feet above the sea, is intersected by
ravines, which in some places sink so deep that their
bottoms are hardly more than two thousard feet above
the sea-level ; and he adds that some »f them are so
narrow as not to contain the smallest culcivable space.
Similar ravines intersect the table-lands »f Guatemala
and Anahuac, where they are called caidas.

When the mountain-region through which the
upper course of a river lies descends with less rapidity,
and consequently occupies a much greater extent of
country, the mountain-streams, as well as their banks,

MAGAZINE. (Auaust 27
present very different features. Both the streams and
the banks show that the descent of the whole mass is
not by a regular slope, but is formed by an alternation
of plains and declivities; in ascending such a moun-
taill-stream, it is found that in certain places the rocky
masses approach so near to the banks, as to leave
hardly room enough for the river, and in these nar-
rows the current is extremely swift, and generally
a continual rapid, interrupted by falls of moderate
height. These narrows, however, rarely extend more
than a few miles. Above them the mountains recede
to some distance from both sides the river; and thus a
basin is formed, in the middle of which the river flows
with a comparatively slow current, not over bare
rocks, but over a gravelly bed, and between low banks
of earth. The bottom of the basin is level, or descends
with a gentle slope, and may be cultivated or used as
Siig ideale In some of the rivers which descend
rom the central and eastern Alps this alternation of
narrow passes and basins occurs several times. Thus
the Reuss, along which the great road runs which
leads over the mountain-pass of St. Gothard, rushes
with incredible velocity through the ravine of the
Hospendal, and falls one thousand eight hundred fect
before it reaches the basin of the valley of Ursern,
which is nearly eight miles long and more than half a
mile wide, and in which it runs with a gentle course.
At the northern extremity of the valley of Ursern the
river enters the second narrow at the Urnerloch. This
narrow, which extends about three miles to Geshinen,
ig extremely contracted, and within these limits the
river descends one thousand and seventy-four feet,
forming a succession of small cataracts. Below this is
the basin of the Krachenthal, which is not so wide as
that of Ursern, and about six miles long. The course
of the river within this basin is rapid, but there are
no cataracts. From this valley the river escapes by
the third narrow, which is about four miles long, and
also very contracted: it terminates at the village of
Am-Stig, where the Reuss enters the valley of Uri, in
which it flows until it mingles its waters with those of
the lake of Uri (Urner-sec), as the southern part of
the Vierwaldstidter-see is named. The same confor-
mation is observed in the southern declivity of the
Alps, where the river Ticino descends from the moun-
tain-pass of St. Gothard. This river runs in a ravine
from the Hospendal to Airolo, in which it descends
about two thousand eight hundred and eighty feet. It
then enters the upper valley of Leventina, which is
about seven vailes lone and half a mile wide, and in
which the river is rapid, but has no cataracts. It
issues from this valley by a narrow about two miles
long, between Il Dazio and Faido, where a series of
beautiful waterfalls occur, and the ravine is so narrow
that an artificial road has been cut on the adjacent
mountain called the Platifer. At Faido the Ticino
enters the middle valley of Leventina, in which it
flows with great rapidity to Giornico, a distance of
about fifteen miles, but without forming any falls.
The valley is less than half a mile wide, and often in-
terrupted by rocks, Above Giornico the river enters
a short narrow, at the outlet from which it forms
cataracts, and then reaches the wide valley called the
Lower Valley of Leventina, in which it flows with a
comparatively gentle course to Lago Maggiore. The
greater number of the rivers which originate in the
Alps and Pyrenecs are of this latter description. The
basins which occur in these river-valleys may at some
remote period have been filled with water, and this
may have been drained off by the rivers forming an
outlet for the waters by the narrows which now con-
nect their basins with one another.

(To be continued.)

1342.]

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

333

(Cassiobury.—From an oriyinal Sketch.)

RAILWAY RAMBLES.
CASSIOBURY.

Once more we find ourselves among the throng of
rsons who are fast settling themselves into the dif-
erent carriages of the train about to start on the Bir-
mingham Railway; many, no doubt, hastening like
ourselves to enjoy the breezes of the country, which,
sweeping occasionally across the metropolis, invite us
so wooingly forth. Carriage after carriage is filled,
and still more are in requisition ; and one cannot but
admire the ingenuity of the contrivance by which, in
the midst of so much bustle, the carriages, as they are
wanted, are brought along a short rail extending from
the principal rail at right angles, till they are in the
middle of the latter, when there is a pause, and, lo! the
whole floor with its rails turns round, and the carriage
18 in due position ready to attach behind us. A
goodly row of carriages now formed, we are starting,
and after a short run with the assistance of the engine
and rope, the locomotive is attached. Gently at first
does it move; putting forth its mighty powers as with
& consciousness of the necessity of gentleness in their
exercise; but the pace rapidly increases, and we are
presently flying along, some twenty-five miles an hour ;
and dull must be the soul that in ordinary circum-
stances can feel none of the exhilarating influences of
the speed, and of the consciousness that all the means
by which itis produced are the product not merely
of the skill and enterprise of our own age, but of our
own day; that the very men who have been the chief
artificers of these great works-are yet moving among
us, and still busy in their vocation.

Cassiobury, or Cashiobury, for the word is spelt both
ways, is our present destination, so we stop at fhe
Watford Station, and ascend to the bridge which here
crosses the railway, and pursue our route along a
delightful road, which, but for its breadth, might be

called a green lane, so embosomed is it in trees, and:

£0 luxuriant the foliage, flowers, and fruit of its hedges.
A curious effect of the cstablishment of the railway
station here is noticeab'e as we stand a moment on
the bridge we have just mentioned; we count six
houses in all, scattered about, and of these five are
public-houses newly erected. After a walk of about
a mile, the lodge appears directly facing us, stretching
across acorner in the road. It is an interesting and
antique-looking edifice, with mullioned windows, half
overgrown with ivy, and terminating on one side in a
little steeple like that of some very rustic church, and
on the other with a square battlemented tower pierced

by narrow slit-holes. Roses ere clustering over the
latter, and it is pleasant to reflect that the times have
passed away when there might be any danger of dis-
turbing them. The noble park now opens upon us
as we step through the lodge gates, clump upon clump,
wood upon wood stretching far away into the distance,
where the eye rests upon gleaming waters. Instcad
of following the carriage road, which pursues a some-
what circuitous course to the mansion, we take the
footpath to the right ; and scarcely have we ceased to
admire some of the many noble trees which we meet
at every step, or the masses of graceful fern, that most
beautiful of vegetable forms, before a glimpse of
turret towers is caught through the trees, then lost
again, and then again seen still more plainly. The path
now winds round a thick shrubbery close to the man-
sion, which shuts the whole out from our view; and
that past, the entire building is before us, in all the
splendour of Gothic architecture: here used in the
adornment of a building presenting the mixed
ecclesiastical and castellated styles. The adoption of
the former in the wing nearest to us, giving to the
whole the exact appearance of a beautiful chapel, is
hardly fair, or perhaps even, closely considered, in good
taste; for this simple reason—there is no chapel in
the building; the interior of what appears to be the
chapel being appropriated to uses of a domestic nature.
There was a chapel here, and which, we presume, was
pulled down with a great portion of the edifice gene-
rally, about the year 1800, when Mr. Wyatt, under the
direction of the late earl, rebuilt Cassiobury ; but we
repeat there is none now, and after admiring the part
of the exterior in question, and investing it with all the
associations natural to its appearance, one feels inclined
to resent its very existence, on finding there is nothing
within of what we hada right toexpect. It may per-
haps mollify the antiquarian who had visions of rich
brasses, and quaint but most provokingly half-illegible
inscriptions, to pqint out in the porch beneath the
beautiful window of this apparent chapel, an oaken
door literally covered with rich carving, including a
row of portraits, from the cathedral of Beauvais in
France.

The entrance vestibule is airy, ight, and beautiful,
yet at the same time not without an antique expres-
sion; for the range of windows extending upwards
almost from the floor directly opposite, and openin
into a little court or formal garden, are richly stained,
and above wind to and fro the beautiful lines, with
little knots or bosses, of the groined roof. Froma
notice affixed. to the wall, we perceive how far ex-

334 : THE PENNY
e
tends the liberality of the owner of Cassiobury. It ap-
pears that there are two days (Mondays and Thursdays)
on which the public have free admittance to view the
house, the gardens, the park, and the Swiss cottage ;
and, further, that by obtaining an order from the earl or
from the housekeeper, the latter readily obtainable on
application at the time, parties may bring rcfreshments,
and thus spend an entire day if they please in enjoying
a place which has cost its owners an immense expen-
diture of time and money to produce, and still requires a
great annual expenditure to preserve. Trophics of
the chase, and a few curiosities suitable to the place,
are hung around the walls or spread along the tables.
From the vestibule we step immediately on the nght
into the dining-room, and commence our examination
of the chief treasures of Cassiobury—its pictures.
Among the contents of this room is a portrait of the
Earl of Northumberland, by Vandyke. It was copied
in 1806 by Mr. Phillips, and at the same time cleaned,
when a curious evidence of originality was discovered :
the trunchcon, now in the earl’s right hand, was found
to have been originally in a different direction. To
another department of art, in which Cassiobury is pre-
eminently wealthy, fine carvings by the finest of
carvers, Gibbons, this room also introduces us. The
pictures are mostly set in a frame-work of this beau-
tiful nature, where all kinds of still-life are represented
with a vivacity of effect and delicacy of execution
truly marvellous considering the material. One of
the most interesting of the pictures in the dining-rooin
is that representing the widow and two children of the
Lord Capel who was beheaded by parliament. As
this nobleman is a direct ancestor of the present
family, and him from whom they derive their clevation
to the peerage, we may here notice briefly the history
of Cassiobury, and the connexion of the Capels with it.
Cassiobury is said to derive its name from Cassibel-
launns, king of the tribe of ancient Britain called the
Cassii, and was then a place of importance, poe
the prince’s seat. Inthe time of the Saxon kings of
Mercia, we know it to have been a regal residence,
and it was by Offa that it was ultimately given to
the neighbouring monastery of St. Albans. It was
then for a time called Albaneston, but after the
Conquest the Normans restored the old associa-
tions in calling it Caisho, since converted into Cashio,
and the name applied to the hundred. After the dis-
solution, the manor was granted to Richard Morison,
Esq., by Henry VIII.; a gentleman frequently em-
ploved in state affairs, and who died at Strasburgh, in
1556. The ercction of the mansion here was com-
menced by him, and completed by his grandson, Sir
Charles Morison, Bart., who was created a knight of
the Bath at the coronation of Charles I. The daughter of
Sir Charles married Arthur Capel, the first Lord Capel
of whom we have spoken ; and. ius the estates passed
into the present family. These had long had their
eeat at Stoke Neyland, in Suffolk. Sir William Capel,
a citizen of London, was Lord Mayor in 1503, and one
of the victims of Henry VII.’s tender inquisitors, Emp-
son and Dudley. He paid a fine of 20002. they
levied upon him at one time; but when, after some
years, they made a similar application, the worth
citizen thought it “too bad,” and resisted, and thoug
they imprisoned him, they could not change his deter-
mination, so he remained in his dungeon till the king's
death, His son George Capcl. knighted in the early
part of the reign of Henry VIIJ., accompanied that
sovereign in his French expedition, and was one of
the chosen party of knights who there challenged all
comers for the space of thirty days. These were the
immediate ancestors of Arthur Capel, first Baron
Capel of Hadham, and who received his patent of
nobility from the hand of the man in whose service he

MAGAZINE. f[Aveust 27,
was to fall, Charles I. On the breaking out of the
civil war, he raised some troups of horse, at his own
cost, and joined the royal standard, although, like
many other of Charles's adherents, he had previously
shared in the measures of the popular and parliamen-
tarian party. He was engaged ovat the struggle in
some battles, and inany skirmishes, till the royal party
became utterly annihilated, their armics beaten and
dispersed, their garrisons taken or surrendered. Ile
then compounded with the parliament, and so virtual!
acknowledged its power and authority: after hich
he retired to his manor of Hadham; and there, in
strict honour, he should have remained. To save his
estates, he left the position of an enemy, and took up’
one which, as far as acts were concerned, entitled the

rliament to demand should be that of a friend.

ence perhaps his melancholy fate, when, having
waited but for the first favourable moment, he once
more reared the standard of king Charles, then in
captivity, and forming a junction with the troops of
Lord Goring and Sir Charles Lucas, aided in the
inemorable siege of Colchester, where the parliamen-
tarians were for the long period (in such circum-
stances) of two months baffled in their efforts to take
the place by the courage of the garrison in resisting
the direct assaults of the sword and tke indirect but
still more fearful inroads of hunger end _privation.
The obstinacy of the garrison, however, may partly be
attributed to the leaders, who knew that they had been
denounced as traitors by the parliament, and who antici-
pated a traitor’s death; which Fairfax’s conduct in
refusing any terms but unconditional surrender made
but too probable. Submit, however, they did at the last
extremity, and Sir Charles Lucas and Sir George
Lisle were immediately shot by Fairfax, whilst Goring
and Lord Capel were committed to close prison. The
latter has left some verses descriptive of his feelings
and sentiments at this gloomy period, when the stream
of events was hurrying on to that tremendous conclu-
sion, the execution of a king by his people. The fol-
lowing lines have an air of calm resignation that it is
interesting to contemplate :—

‘‘ That which the world miscals a jail,
A private closet is to me;
Whilst a good conscience is my bail,
And innocence my liberty.
Locks, bars, and solitude, together met,
Make me no prisoner, but an anchoret.” *

His royal master preceded him to the scaffold, and
the event, while it made more certain his own doom,
prepared him the better to endure it. In February
following, he, with the Duke of Hamilton, Lord Goring,
and Sir John Owen, were tried by the High Court of
Justice sitting in Westminster Hall. Lord Capel
pleaded that he was a prisoner of war only to Lord
General Fairfax, and had had conditions, including his
hife, promised him at Colchester ; but he seems to have
been unable to convince his judges of any such pro-
mises, and was, with the others, condemned to death.
Before exccution, two of the number, Lord Goring
and Sir John Owen, were respited, and saved, and
another, Lord Holland, added to the fatal list; and the
three, Hamilton, Capel, and Holland, were beheaded
on the 9th of March on a scaffold crected in Palace
Yard. Capel seems to have been the only one who
had much of the popular sympathy. His resolute
behaviour led to the circulation of the following
couplet, in connection with his armorial bearings :—

“Here lion-like Capel undaunted stood,
Beset with crosses, in a field of blood.”

* * Gentleman's Magazine,’ 1757.
(To be continued.’

1312.] THE PENNY

ON THE WEAR OF GOLD AND SILVER
COINAGE.

Tuat we do not feel the full importance of annoyances
until they fall upon ourselves, 1s a truism which need
hardly be insisted on, but which is nevertheless often
forgotten. The recent discussions and delays respect-
inz ‘light sovereigns’ have directed the attention of
inany poe for the first time to the natural causes
whereby coin must necessarily become somewhat
lighter in weight as it is more extensively used, even
without the contingency of malpractices on the part
of dishonest persons. Respecting the nature and extent
of this diminution, and the experiments made on the
peli) some years ago, a few words may not be mis-,
aced.

: We are not aware that any distinct experiments
were made to determine the diminution in the weight
of coins by abrasion, until the year 1787, when the
officers of the Mint investigated the average state of
the silver coins at that time. According to these
experiments it appeared that

were requisite to
make up a pound
troy, instead of

As issued from the Mint.
12,6, Crowns, 12,4, Crowns,
or 27 Half-crowns, 248, Half-crowns,
or 784, Shillings, 2 Shillings,
or 194,8 Sixpences, 124 Sixpences.
These coins were allowed to run the average career
of the silver coinage for the next eleven years, and
were then, in 1798, again examined. It was found
that the weights had been still further diminished,
particularly in the smaller coins, ingomuch that
1233 Crowns i
or 27% Half-cro wns, (| Were rane to Reet
or £29, Shillings, ee b eek Aas Fy ©
or 20032 Sixpences, 1e numbers given above.
It was thus shown that in eleven years the coins had
suffered, in round numbers, the following loss :—
crowns 4 per cent., half-crowns 2 per cent., shillings
per cent., and sixpences 3 per cent. ; while the whole
diminution, from the time of coinage, amounted to—
crowns 3 per cent., half-crowns 10 per cent., shillings
24 per cent., and sixpences 38 per cent.
It must not be understood that the above forms any-
thing like a general average of the effects produced
by the abrasion of coins; indeed the glaring magni-
tude of the deficiency was the circumstance which
ealled attention tothe matter. Still the elements of
destruction are always at work, and the government
were desirous of obtaining the aid of the Royal Society
in determining the causes and the extent of loss by
abrasion, not 80 much in the silver as in the gold
coinage, whose superior value made the subject one
of increased importance. A committee of the Privy
Council was appointed in 1798, “to take into con-
sideration the state of the coins of this kingdom, having
among other circumstances remarked the considerable
Joss which the gold coin appeared to have sustained by
wear within certain periods, and being desirous to
ascertain whether this loss was occasioned by any
defect, either in the quality of the standard gold, or in
the figure or impression of the coins.” The committee
requested Mr. Hatchett and Mr. Cavendish, on the
part of the Royal Society, to institute a series of experi-
ments on these matters; and those two gentlemen
were engaged from the latter end of the year 1798 to
April, 1801, in conducting investigations at the Mint.
The report of the results occupies a hundred and
fifty pages of the ‘ Philosophical Transactions’ for 1803,
but we can here, of course, only briefly mention the
conclusions arrived at.
The questions submitted for investigation were
principally these two:—lst, “Whether very soft and
ductile gold, or gold made as hard as is coinpatible

MAGAZINE. ° 33%)
with the process of coining, suffers the most by wear,
under the various circumstances of friction to which
coin is subjected in the course of circulation?” 2nd,
‘“ Whether coin with a flat, smooth, and broad surface,
wears Iess than coin which has certain protuberant
parts raised above the ground or general level of the
pieces?” To answer these questions, Mr. Hatchett
and Mr. Cavendish deemed it desirable to determine
the effect which various alloys produced on the qua-
lities of fine gold; how far the specific gravity is
effected by the alloys, and to what extent the nature
of the alloy and the form of the piece influenced the
abrasion by friction.

Gold was alloyed respectively with arsenic, anti-
mony, zine, cobalt, nickel, manganese, bismuth, lead, tin,
iron, platina, copper, and silver, with a view to deter-
mine which alloy gave to the gold those qualities best
fitted for the purposes of coin. Arsenic, and many of
the other alloys, evaporated to some extent during the
art of combination ; while others of the alloys pro-
duced a compound metal too brittle or too soft for
coin, or else badly coloured. The experimenters con-
cluded that “the whole of the experiments tend to
prove, that Sete to general practice and opinion)
only two of the metals are proper for the alloy of gold
coin, namely silver and copper, as all the others either
considerably alter the colour or diminish the ductility
of gold.” The worst metals for the alloy were found
to be bismuth, lead, and antimony.

The next experiments were on the specific gravity
of the alloyed gold, and the causes which led to changes
in its amount. This was an elaborate investigation,
and ended in results which are in a scientific point of
view very valuable; such as the effect of sand-moulds
and iron-moulds in casting ingots; the unequal mix-
ture of the heavy gold and the lighter alloy in the
melting-pot, and numerous minute particulars impor-
tant to the operations of the Mint.

The last series of experiments related to the effects
of friction in wearing away gold coins, and were
intended to decide the question as to which alloy
renders gold most durable. Twenty-eight pieces of
gold were fixed ina frame, over which was placed
another frame containing twenty-eight similar pieccs ;
and the upper pieces were made to rub to and fro in
the lower ones, with a pressure of a certain amount.
The pieces were alloyed. differently, and the object was
to determine which alloy withstood best a given
amount of friction. Standard gold pieces, and after-
wards pieces containing one half of copper, were
rubbed to and fro 573,380 times; and on subsequent
weighing, it was found that the former had lost less
by friction than the latter. It was further ascertained
that ‘fine gold,’ that is, almost pure gold, suffered less
than gold alloyed by copper and tin, or copper and
iron; but that standard gold (viz. 22 parts of pure
gold to 2 of alloy) resisted friction better even than
fine gold. The coins were next subjected to a different
ordeal: they were placed in a square box, rotated on
its axis, so that the coins rubbed against each other in
every possible way. Into the box were placed forty
pieces of ‘fine gold,’ forty made standard by silver,
and three other sorts of forty each, made standard re-
spectively by silver and copper, fine cophee and com-
mon copper (the term ‘standard’ implying }}ths ot
pure gold.) It was found after the box had been
rotated 71,720 times, and the various pieces had rubbed

inst each other sata a that the alloy of
giver and copper, such as is actually used in English
coinage, was more durable, or less diminished by abra-
sion, than the fine gold, the gold alloyed with silver
alone, or that alloyed with copper alone; the loss in
the first-mentioned instance being about y},th part,

and in the second about 2,th part.

o36G THE PENNY

The entire results of the experiments made by
Hatchett and Cavendish led to the conclusion that the
standard adopted in the English mint is, on the whole,
one of the most durable that could be chosen, and that
the diminution in weight, by long-continued friction,
is very inconsiderable.

In 1807 the officers of the Mint made an investiga-
tion, not into the respective qualities of different alloys
for coin, but into the actual loss which the current
coin had suffered in a given time. One thousand
guineas were procured from a banker’s and weighed ;
G86 were found of full weight, and 314 light; the
deficiency on the whole 1000 was two ounces and
eleven pennyweights, being at the rate of about 19s.
per cent. Of 100 guineas collected at a retail shop,
about half were under weight, and the deficiency on
the whole was about 23s. per cent. Of 600 half-
guinea pieces, collected ata banker's, more than three-
fourths were under weight, and the average loss was
nearly two guineas per cent. On 300 seven-shilling
piece (a coin used at that time toa limited extent) the
oss was only about 17s. per cent. Mr. Jacob, from
considerations which he explains in his ‘History of the
Precious Metals,’ assumed that the gold coins thus
experimented on had on an average been in fair
circulation, passing from hand to hand in the usual
manner, for a period of about ten years; and, from
further considering the proportion which the half-
guineas bore to the guineas, and the relative wear of
each, he states his belief that the average annual loss
of the cuins by abrasion coiscquent on the usual com-
mercial dealings, was about ,4,,th part of the whole.

In 1826 the officers of the Mint made a further
investigation, to determine the amount of wear in gold
and silver coins coined subsequently to 1816. It was
found that on three hundred pieces of money the dirt
amounted to from 7 to 22 grains, the largest quantit
being on the half-crowns, and the smallest on the half-
sovereigns. It was next found that in sovereigns and
half-sovereigns of 1817 the loss had been respectively
4s. 6d. and 5s. 7d. per cent. ; and on those of 1825 (one
ycar old) ls. 3d. and 2s. 9d. percent. The half-crowns,
the shillings, and the sixpences of 1816 coinage, had
experienced losses of 20s., 46s., and 75s., per cent.
respectively; while those which had been but one year
In use showed a deficiency of 1s. 5d., 4s. lld., and
7s. 2d. per cent. Mr. Jacob, after investigating the
state of the currency at that period, in reference to
cash payments, expresses an opinion that the coins here
experimented on had, on an average, been in active
service about two years and a half; from which he
estimates that the yearly depreciation was about ¢},th
part. This proportion is larger than that of ,{,th,
estimated in the former instance: but this may be
owing to the fact that the average annual wear for two
Ka and a half is greater than that for ten ycars;

ecause it has been found that sovereigns lose more in
the first ycar than any subsequent year, probably on
account of the numerous sharp projecting points of
the device.

As respects the silver coinage Mr. Jacob estimates,
both from the experiments of 1798 and those of 1826,
that the average annual loss on the silver coins in com-
mon use is at least ,1,th part, by abrasion, being a
ratio four or five times as great as thaton gold. In-
deed he quotes the opinion of a gentleman very con-
Versant with manufactures in metal, to the effect that
the loss is much more :—* The loss on coined silver is
full one-bundredth part, or one per cent. per annum.
It one hundred picces of 1815 aud 1816 and upwards
to the last date on the silver coin be examined, it will
give this result.” Though this loss is much greater
than on gold, it is easily accounted for: for first, the
same degree of friction will produce a greater diminu-

MAGAZINE. [Avucust 27, 18:2.
tion of weight; and secondly, the constant and never
ceasing circulation of the silver coinage far excceds that
of gold, since it never will be hoarded or kept in a state
of rest, it not being a measure of value in this country,
but a token or represcntation of value.

As a means of placing the results in a clear form,
we will take an intermediate value between the two
estimates (,1}, and ,1,) for gold coin, and call the
ratio g}53; and use ,+, asa inean between the two
ratios for silver (,1, and +4,). Then we might put
the case in this form :—that if we take 900 gold coins,
sovereigns for instance, weigh them, then let then
circulate in furtherance of English traffic with average
rapidity for twelve months, and lastly weigh them
again, they will be found reduced in weight to about
809 ; and that if we similarly circulate 150 silver coins,
such as shillings, their weight will be reduced to about
149. The difficulty of forming a judgment in this
matter is extremely great; and Mr. Jacob gives his
results as only such approximations as he could venture
to offer. We are not aware whether any investigations
are now being carried on by the officers of the Mint on
this subject ; but the present time seeins to be peculiarly
fitted for such an inquiry.

Pulla Fishery on the Indus.—A large, light, and thin earthen
veasel of the strong and unequalled pottery of the Indus
clay, so thoroughly baked, forms the fisherman's float: it is fully
four feet in diameter, and about thirty inches high; of a very
flattened form, and exccedingly buoyant. On this the fisher-
man balances himself on his stomach, covering the short neck
and small aperture at top; and launching himself forth on the
current, paddles with his legs behind to steer his course, drifting
with the stream, and holding a pouch-net open to receive the
prey, which, when caught, he deposits in his reservoir, the vessel
floats on.—AKennedy’s Sind and Caboul,

The Orchidacee.—One class of plants, which, though it has
lately become most fashionable, and cultivated by an almost
separate clique of nurserymen and amateurs, cannot yet be said
to rauk with florists’ flowers, is that of the Orchidaces, trivially
known, when first introduced, by the name of air-plants. It is
scarcely more than ten years ago that any particular attention
was bestowed upon this interesting tribe, aud there are now more
genera cultivated than there were then species known. Among
all the curiosities of botany there is nothing more singular—we
had almost said mysterious—than the character, or, to speak more
technically, ‘the habit’ of this extraordinary tribe. The sen-
sation which the first exhibition of the butterfly-plaut (Onctdtam
papiko) produced at the Chiswick Gardens must still be remem-
bered by many of our readers, and so wonderful is the resem-
blance of the vegetable to the insect specimen, floating upon its
gossamer-stalk, that even now we can hardly fancy it otherwise
than a living creature, were it not even still more like some
exquisite production of fanciful art. Their manner of growth,
distinct from, though so apparently like, our native misletoe,
and other parasitical plants—generally reversing the common
order of nature, and throwing summersets with their heels up-
ward and head downward—one specimen actually sending its
roots into the air, and burying its flowers in the soil,—living
almost eutirely on atmospheric moisture,—the blossoms in some
species sustained by so slender a thread that they seem to float
unsupported in the air,—all these things, combined with the
most exquisite contrast of the rarest and most delicate colours in
their flowers, are not more extraordinary characteristics of their
tribe than is the circumstance that in nearly every variety there
exists a remarkable resemblance to some work either of animate
nature or of art. Common observation of the pretty specimens
of this genus in our own woods and fields bas marked this in the
names given to the fly, the bee, and the spider-orchis; but in
the exotic orchises this mimickry is still more strougly marked.
Besides the butterfly-plant already alluded to, there is the dove-
plant, and a host besides, so like to other things than flowers,
that they seem to have undergone a metamorphosis under tise
magic wand of some transforming power.— Quart. Review.

SuPPLEMENT. }

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

A DAY AT A FLOOR-CLOTH FACTORY.

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a 2 : batts mt call}
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[Drying-Room.- Messrs, Smith and Baber’s Factory.

Wat would our ancestors have thought, if they | in the ‘Penny Cyclopedia,’ that “ The consumption of

could have seen the varied and glittering devices which
now deck the floors of our apartments? In the times
when tapestried hangings decorated the walls, the floors
were either left bare or were covered with green
rushes renewed from time to time as occasion re-
quired. Our old annalists and county topographers
make repeated allusions to the preparations of the
‘Great Hall’—a component part of most old mansions
—on the occurrence of festivities, by the spreading of
clean new rushes on the floor. At what period this
custom was discontinued it would perhaps be difficult
to say. The great beauty of the joinery-work in the
floors of the majority of old mansions seems to point
to the fact that they were intended to be left bare;
and the polished boards, frequently arranged in a skil-
fully-contrived mosaic pattern, still remain to attest
the care taken in their preservation. The first woven
fabric used as a floor-covering in England was pro-
bably some coarse kind of drugget, for it seems at least
consistent to suppose that the costly carpets imported
from Turkey were not introduced until rough attempts
had been made to produce a home-manufactured fa-
bric. But be this as it may, the general use of carpets
in England extended itself very slowly. It is stated

No. 668.

carpets in Great Britain up to about the imiddle of the

last century was so very trifling, that, asa manufacture,
it was hardly deserving of notice; and although now
so essential to our warmth and comfort, a few genera-
tions since carpets were only partially used in the
mansions of the rich. Only a few manufactories, of
which that at Wilton was the most important, existed
in different parts of the kingdom ; and at Kiddermin-
ster, which is now the principal seat of the trade, and
where at least five thousand persons are employed in
its different branches, the carpet manufacture did not
commence before the early part of the eighteenth cen-
tury. We doubt whether at the commencement of
the nineteenth century one-fourth of the present num-
ber of carpets was manufactured.”

Still more recent was the introduction of that kind
of floor-covering which is made of painted canvas, and
which is generally termed oi/-cloth or floor-cloth,—-
though painted-cloth would perhaps he a_ better
name. the steps whereby we may suppose this ma-
terial to have ee gradually brought to the state
usually presented by it at the present day are simple
and obvious, In the first place a coarse hempen or
flaxen fabric was woven and laid down as a floor:

~ Vou. XL—2 X

338 THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

covering. Jt was then probably suggested that the
durability cf the material would be greatly increased
by laying on a coating of paint, or by saturating the
fibres of the cloth with oil or paint, allowed to become
thorcughly dried and hardened before the cloth was
brought into use. The painter would then exercise
his taste in producing a pattern on the cloth, by usin

paint of different colours, and applying his brush wit

reference tosome particular device. Then would
ensue the use of stencil-plates, a8 a means of producing
an unlimited number of copies of the same pattern,
ko as to expedite and facilitate the painting of the de-

Vice. The stencil-plates were probably made of thin
sheet-metal with the | area cut or stamped out of
them; a pattern could be produced by painting the
canvas—previously prepared with a ground-colour
all over—in the parts left bare by the stencil-plates ;
the pattern, too, would be more or less elaborate ac-
cording as there were or were not different colours,
one stencil-plate devoted to each colour. Lastly en-
sued that improvement which arises from printing the
device by blocks, the face of which are cut similar to
the blocks in wood-engraving ; a method which admits
of very much closer accuracy and neatness than can
be attained by the use of stencil-plates.

That these successive stages in the progress of the
manufacture are not wholly suppositive may be shown
by a kind of historical memento of the manufacture,
still in existence. We have lately seen the first block
ever cut for printing floor-cloth ; it is still in the hands
of the family of the manufacturer who cut it and
printed from it, and remains to show the time—about
ninety years—which has elapsed since the use of such
blocks originally commenced. Before that time the
floor-cloth manufactured, very limited in extent, as
may be well supposed, received whatever pattern was
intended for it by the use of stencil-plates.

Simple as may appear at first thought to be the mere
painting of a piece of cloth, the manufacture of floor-
cloth involves many curious processes, which are not
ill-deserving of attention. We have therefore availed
ourselves of permission, liberally given by the proprie-
tors, to visit an establishment at the west-end of the
town, and to follow the whole routine of processes.

The Floor-cloth Factory of Messrs. Smith and Ba-
ber, the one to which we here allude, is situated at
Knightsbridge, opposite the Horse-Guards Barracks.
Many of our readers, in walking across Hyde Park
from the end of Oxford-street to Knightsbridge, and
just before reaching the eastern end of the Serpentine,
may have probably seen a high square building stand-
ang “p prominently in the background, much more
lofty than any surrounding building, and occasionally
coming into sight between the trees. This is the
factory in question, or rather it is a kind of square
tower surmounting the factory ; and on approaching
nearer to it we see that the building itself is one of
considerable extent. All floor-cloth factories are
required to be both lofty and extensive in area; be-
cause, as we shall see farther on, very large pieces of
canvas have to be extended at different times both
vertically and horizontally. ;

_The northern extremity of the building presents to
view a rotunda, or circular apartment, forming the
principal entrance to the factory. From thence the
various parts of the building extend to a distance of
about two hundred and fifty feet towards the south,
presenting an eastern facade more decorative than is
often seen in factories of the kind. On procecding
within the entrance rotunda, we come to a kind of
show-room, lincd on cither side with specimens of the
finished manufacture, mostly in the form of rolls. At
the southern end of this room are two offices or count-
ing-houses, with an entrance between them to the

[Aucust, 1842.

largest room in the factory, the one indeed which en-
tails a necessity for considerable area and elevation.
This is the ‘drying-room,’ represented in our frontis-
iece; it is about one hundred and twenty feet in
ength, by sixty or seventy in width, and of considerable
height. The first thing which meets the eye on enter-
ing this room is a magnificent specimen of floor-
cloth, remarkable alike for its large dimensions and
intricate mosaic pattern; it is suspended from a con-
siderable height, and hangs down to within six or
eight feet of the floor. A still larger specimen has
been recently produced at this factory for Mehemet
Ali, the Pasha of Egypt ; but we believe the one here
deposited is deemed one of the most difficult and
elaborate ‘patterns ever produced in floor-cloth. Be-
hind this large specimen, and along the entire western
half of the room, are suspended finished floor-cloths,
which are hung here to dry gradually after the paint-
ing has been finally effected; these are placed over
poles near the roof of the building, and descend to
Within a few feet of the ground. The floor of the
room is occupied by chalk-marks delineating the
size or pattern of required pieces of cloth ; or by men
cutting a large finished piece of cloth to the required
size; or by others opening a bale of canvas, and
spreading it out on the floor preparatory to placing it
on a roller; or by others hauling up a roll of canvas
to the painting-room :—one or more of these opera-
tions being carried on at a time according to circum-
stances.

At the southern end of the drying-room a few de-
scending steps lead us to the ‘colour-room,’ wherein
all the colours used for painting the cloth are prepared.
In the centre of this room is a large horizontal cog-
whecl, moved by horse-power ; and around it
are various machines set in motion by cog-wheels
acting in the larger wheel, and employed in the grind-
eae preparation of the colours.

ehind the ‘colour-room’ is an open court or yard,
in which are three mig linseed-oil cisterns, capable
collectively of holding forty tuns of oil. From these
proceed the requisite pipes for causing the flow of the
oil into the proper vessels in the colour-room. In the
rear of the premises, and occupying the southern side
of the yard, are a carpenter's shop and a smith’s shop,
for the manufacture of the printing-blocks, and the
repair and adjustment of various parts of the working
apparatus.
tnrning again to the large drying-room, and
ascending a few steps, we come to a range of store-
rooms over the colour-room. One of these is the
canvas-room, where the canvas, brought from Scotland
in bales, and afterwards rolled up into coils, is depo-
sited till required for use; these coils, about five or
six feet high, are ranged vertically on all sides of the
room. Another is the ‘ print-room,’ or store-room,
where are kept the greater part of the carved blocks
used in producing the patterns on floor-cloth: these,
as will be easily conceived when we come to describe
the process, are necessarily very numerous; in fact,
they amount to some thousands, and all are preserved
with great care, since the fracture of any of the small
projecting points would at once spoil the pattern. The
room in which they are kept maintains a ped con-
stant temperature throughout the year; and the wood
of which the blocks are formed thus avoids the injury
which might result from change of temperature and
moisture. In this range, too, 1s a colour store-room,
and others which require no particular notice.

A farther ascent of a few stairs brings us to the
‘frame-room,’ a part of the premises so closely filled,
that it is difficult at first for a stranger to sce what is
going forward. He soon observes, however, that the
room, which is long, wide and high, is occupied

SuPPLEMENT.]

by a series of vertical frames, with canvas stretched
over them, and a sufficient interval between them to
allow a man to pass. Let the reader conceive a
stretched canvas, about sixty feet long and twenty-
four high, enclosed in a frame similar to a schoolboy’s
slate; and twenty or thirty of these lying parallel,
with a slender scaffolding built up in each of the in-
tervals between them ; he will then have an idea of the
appearance of the ‘frame-room.’ The greater part of
these frames are about the size here mentioned; but
there are others extending as much as ninety-eight
feet in length, although the height is somewhat less
than that of the shorter frames. Nearly on a level
with this room is a floor or platform by which access
is gained to the long pieces of p e fioor-cloth,
suspended, like the others, from near the roof of the
Binding. ;

The next stage or story of the factory is the ‘ print-
ing-room,’ where the floor-cloth receives the pattern
by which it is distinguished. Here we see square
cushions—something like the inking-cushions used in
hand-printing—covered with bright colours, and men
transferring the colours therefrom by means of blocks
to the painted canvas, the latter being stretched out
on a long flat bench. Another room above this is
similarly occupied by men ‘ printing’ the narrow floor-
cloths for passages.

On the summit of the building, at a considerable
elevation, isa small] square room, provided with win-
dows on all four sides. From this an extensive view may
be obtained in every direction, since the position of the
observer is considerably higher than any other building
in the neighbourhood, except church towers. As this
room is, however, rather an apartment than a portion
of the factory, we shall not farther allude to it.

The tour of inspection we have just taken will have pro-
bably informed the reader that the routine of processes
carried on in the manufacture is somewhat as follows :—
opening the bales of canvas, coiling the canvas on
rollers, hauling the rollers up to the frame-room, stretch-
ing the canvas on the frames, painting the canvas
while in this position, removing the painted canvas to
the ‘ printing-room,’ painting or printing the device on
it, and finally suspending it in the drying-room till
ready to be employed as floor-covering. To these suc-
cessive steps, then, we shall direct our attention.

If we look at the edge of a piece of floor-cloth which
has been rent or worn into holes, we shall see that its
foundation is a woven fabric of a coarse but stout
quality. Somme of the finer and superior floor-cloths
are coated so completely on both sides with paint, and
brought to such an excellent surface, that they
assume much more the appearance of leather than of
cloth; but still it is easy to satisfy ourselves of the
foundation being woven vegetable fibre. Sometimes,
when an old carpet of good quality has lost its beauty
of appearance without falling to pieces, it is converted
inte floor-cloth, by having the back of the carpet
painted and printed so as to form the fuce of the floor-
eloth. But this is an exception to a gencral rule, and
we may confine ourselves to the notice of new canvas
woven expressly for the floor-cloth manufacture.

We believe that there is one, and only one, esta-
blishment in London where the canvas is woven by the
floor-cloth manufacturer. The general] rule is to have
the canvas woven in Scotland, by parties who either
confine themselves wholly to this line of business, or at
Jeast give it a marked degree of attention. That this
is a business very distinct from that of ordinary weav-
ing may be conceived from the fact that the ordinary
widths are eighteen, twenty-one, and twenty-four feet.
The canvas is brought partly from Kirkaldy, but prin-
cipally from Dundee, a town celebrated more than any
other in Britain for the extent of its manufacture of

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

339

coarse sheetings, sackings, sail-cloth, and simiiar woven
fabrics of flax and hemp. The looms for the weaving
of floor-canvas are made expressly for that purpose,
since all the modern floor-cloths are made without a
seam. As the weft or width of the cloth extends tosix
or eight yards, of course the shuttle has to be driven
this distance at each successive traverse of the weft-
thread. At first sight these cloths have more the
appearance of hemp than of flax, but hemp is used
only to a limited extent, because it is found not to
receive and retain the colour so well as flax; the latter
is therefore the material generally employed. The
canvas has a fineness of about sixteen or eighteen
threads to the inch, and a degree of stoutness which
may be expresscd by saying that a square yard weighs
about twenty-one ounces.

The canvas, after being shipped from Dundee by
steam, arrives at the London ciety in the form of
compact bales, about three feet in length, and between
two and three in width and depth. Each bale contains
canvas of one particular width, the lengths and widths
being regulated thus :—one kind measures a hundred
yards in length by six in width, another a hundred and
cight yards in length by seven in width, and another a
hundred and thirteen yards by cight. The bales
usually weigh about five hundredweight cach. The
first operation after they are brought to the factory is
to open them, and cut them to such lengths as suit the
dimensions of the frames, which, as we have before
stated, are between sixty and a hundred fect in length.
The canvas is rolled up and deposited in the canvas
store-room till wanted.

When a piece of canvas is about to be painted, it
might be supposed by. one whose thoughts were then
first directed to the inatter, that it might be laid flat on
the ground, pulled and perhaps nailed at the edges to
stretch it smooth, then painted, and, when dry, painted
on the other side. It will be seen, however, that
a very different pee is adopted in practice. A
party of men unroli the canvas, and lay it down pretty
evenly on the floor of the drying-room. They then
take a wooden roller, rather longer than the width of the
canvas, and about five inches in diameter, and lay it
down on one end of the canvas. On this roller the
whole of the canvas is coiled, and in that state can be
easily carried from place to place. The roller, with
the canvas wound on it, is then erected on one end and
hauled up into the frame-room by means of a pulley.
Here an iron point or gudgeon is dropped into a hole
in a moveable carriage, and the roller is moved to its
place in a very simple but ingenious manner. Two or
more men hold the upper end of the roller; while
others, standing onthe floor of the room twenty or
twenty-four feet lower than the others, guide the car-
riage in which the lower end of the roller rests. The
roljer is thus brought to its proper position coincident
with one end of the frame to which the canvas is to be
attached. This frame, like all the others, is formed of
stout oaken beams, two horizontal, to form the top and
bottom, and two vertical, to form the sides or ends.
The roller being about the same height as the frame,
and a small portion of the canvas being unrolled, it is
easy to nail the edge of the canvas to one of the upright
posts, thus forming the first part of the stretching of
the canvas. The wheel-carriage on which the roller
rests is then wheeled onward, the canvas unrolling as
it proceeds, parallel with the frame. As it unrolls the
canvas is fastened temporarily to the top beam by
means of a simple but ingenious contrivance called a
‘qguickset—a much more intelligible name than is
often applied to working tools. This quickset is a kind
of a screw and nut, provided with a large hook at the
top, and a small pointed hook at the bottom: the large
hook catches bold of a rod lying on the oP a sa fraine,

340

while the small lower hook catches in the canvas:
there is a nut by which the screw is carried up tightly
to the upper beam of the frame, so as to keep the can-
vas nearly at its proper height; while the upper hook,
by being able to move along the rod, suffers the quick-
sct to move to the right or left as the canvas becomes
stretched. This is only a temporary contrivance, used
while the immense area of canvas is being adjusted tu
the four sides of the frame; but it is one of those
ingenious adaptations which could only result from a
steady observance of the object in view.

When the low-wheeled carriage, in which the roller
rests, has travelled froin end to end of the frame, and
the canvas has become wholly unrolled, and the upper
edge temporarily held up by a number of ‘ quicksets,’
the roller is wholly removed, and the second or remain-
ing upright edge of the canvas is nailed to the other
upright beam of the frame. It will readily be under-
stood that, if this beam were a fixture, it would be
next to impossible to nail the canvas to it with sufficient
tightness and stretch in every part. The beam is
loose, and the edge of the canvas is nailed to it while
the canvas itself is very loose. Two screws are then
brought into use, one attached to the upper end and
the other to the lower end of the beam; and cach
screw being worked, the post is drawn forward until
the canvas is fully diverted: after which the beain
is fixed, and the canvas remains stretched. When
it is considered that each of these pieces of canvas
contains from fourteen to cighteen hundred equate
feet, and that it is drawn out nearly as tight as a drum
before operations are commenced upon it, it will be
readily supposed that a powerful force is required to
effect the requisite strain. When the two vertical
edges are properly secured, the upper and lower hori-
zontal edges are fastened. The upper edge is nailed,
at distances of between two and three inches ; and the
‘quicksets’ are removed when their aid is no longer
required. The fastening of the lower horizontal edge
requires a force analogous in kind (though not so great
in amount) as that applied to the vertical edge. The
edge is nailed to the lower beam, and the beam is
forced down by means of levers, chains, and hooks,
until the canvas is stretched as tightly in the vertical
as in the horizontal direction ; and in this position it
remains for several weeks, while the greater part of the
processes are being wrought.

This stretching or ‘ framing,’ then, it will be seen, is
a much more important part of the operations than a
first thought would lead us to suppose. The canvas is
to be painted on both sides; and the mode of framing
just described enables cach surface to be brought
equally into a vertical position. The distance between
the frames is probably about thirty inches; and in this
narrow space is built up a scaffolding so slender that
one elmost wonders how it can maintain stability. It
is a scaffolding of four tiers in heicht, to enable the
workmen to reach every part of a surface twenty-four
feet high. It is necerarity detached froin the canvas
on either side, and consists in fact mercly of a nine-
inch board, supported at intervals of every few feet by
vertical posts. Access to the upper tiers is gained
either by ladders quite upright, or by ledges placed on
the upright beams at the end of the scaffolding—a con-
trivance intended to save as much room as possible
between the frames.

If we take up a piece of floor-cloth we shall see that
the back 18 painted as well as the face, although no
pattern is imprinted upon it: this is done to increase
the durability, the cleanliness, and the appearance of
the canvas; but the quantity of paint laid on the back
js of course much less than that applied to the face of
the cloth. The first operation is to level the surface of
the canvas, and to prepare it for the reception of the

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

(Aucusr, 1842,

paint. This is done to the back first, and in the follow-
ing manner. A weak solution of s#ze is prepared, and
laid on the canvas with a brush; and while thus wet
the canvas is rubbed well with a flat piece of pumice-
stone, to level the slight irregularities which occur in
the fibrous material. The liquid size not only facili-
tates this process, but by its gelatinous quality prevents
the oil of the subsequently applicd paint trom penetrat-
ing too far into the substance. It is found that the
size makes a good foundation or hold for the paint;
but it is also found that if the oil penetrates through the
canvas, the floor-cloth will become brittle, and not
sufficiently pliable ; and to prevent this is one of the
objects of the size-priming. The pumice-stone—a
lava from Vesuvius or Etna—is cut by hatchets into
brick-shaped picces about six inches in length by two
in thickness. The workmen rub to and fro with these
pieces of pumice over the wet canvas, until the surface
is rendered considerably smoother than in its natural
state. They mount the highest stage of the scaffold,
and rub down the upper portion of the canvas first :
then they descend to the next stage, proceeding from
end to end of the piece of canvas sixty or a hundred
feet in length; and so on to the lower stages.

While the sized canvas is drying, we will visit the
colour-room, and briefly consider the nature of the
paint applied to the canvas. The painting of floor-
cloth is, in principle, analogous to house-painting,
though different in some of the practical details. The
materials employed are the usual dry, earthy, and
crystalline colours; such as white-lead, the ochres,
the chromes, verditer, Prussian blue, vermillion, &c.
These are mostly brought to the factory in tubs or
small casks, and are prepared for use in the colour-
room. The large earthy colours are ground to powder
by means of a crushing-roller four feet in diameter by
about twelve inches thick: this 1s worked by a horse ;
and as the shaft belonging to the roller has at the top
a Jarge horizontal cog-wheel by which other machines
are worked, the whole, or any part of them, are set in
operation at one time. When the pigment has been
brought to the proper state of fineness by this or any
other means, it is put into a tall open vessel called a
‘mixing-tub,’ in which a stirrer is kept rotating by a
shaft placed in connection with the large cog-whecl.
Linseed-oil, flowing through pipes from the cisterns
behind, is introduced into the mixing-tub; and the
surrer works the ingredients well up together until
completely amalgamated. But this mixing would not
be sufficient to bring the paint into a proper state for
use, since the dry ingredient, although fine, was by no
means an impalpable powder. The paint is therefore
allowed to flow from the mixing-tub into a vessel
beneath ; and isthence laded into the hopper or orifice
of a pair of millstones precisely analogous to those by
which corn is ground. There are two mixing-vessels,
and two pairs of millstones; all four machines being
worked by the large cog-wheel. As the paint flows
down into the shallow vacant space between the mill-
stones, it becomes ground by the rotation of the upper
stone, or ‘runner,’ and when perfectly smooth and
homogeneous, is allowed to ooze out from between the
‘runner’ and the ‘bed-stone’ into a vesscl beneath.
The runner is loaded or not according to the fineness
of the paint to be produced. From the vessels into
which the paint flows it is conveyed into store-tubs,
where it is kept until wanted for use: it is then drawn
off into the paint-pans or pots, from which it is used.
For some of the finer kinds of colours, or where the
quantify required is not such as to render the use of
the millstones necessary, a flat stone and hand-muller
are employed in the grinding of the paint, suth as are
commonly used by house-painters; but the principle is
just the eame,

SuprLemMeEnrt. }

The paint employed for floor-cloth has these two
peculiarities, when compared with that used in house-
painting ;—it is very much stiffer or thicker, and has

scarcely any turpentine in its composition. Both of

these characters are given to it to ensure the durability
of the cloth; since a large body of paint can be laid
on when the consistency is thick, and the paint becomes
harder and more durable when the liquid employed is
wholly or almost wholly oil,—although a much longer
time elapses before the paint becomes thoroughly dried
and fit for use.

When the paint is prepared, with a thickness or con-
sistence not much less than that of treacle, it is applied
to the cloth ina very curious manner, more analogous to
the manipulations of a plasterer than those of a painter.
‘he workman holds in his left hand a stout thick brush,
which he dips into the paint-pot, and then dabs or
splashes on the canvas; the paint is too thick to be
brushed over in the usual way, and is therefore laid
on abundantly in a few detached patches. The work-
man holds in his right hand a kind of trowel, consist-
ing of a long narrow blade, about a foot in length,
decreasing in width towards one end, and having at
the other a handle which bends back over the blade.
With this trowel, as represented in the annexed cut,

"i.

[Trowel-painting-}

the workman draws the paint ovér the canvas, smooth-
ing it repeatedly, and drawing a supply from the
eapripir or masses of paint which had been thrown on
y the brush. The trowel is worked with its plane or
face not precisely parallel with the surface of the can-
vas, but somewhat inclined, so as to rub or scrape the
re into the fibres of the canvas. The scaffolding,
eing erected somewhat on the principle of that used
by builders, has its successive stages so far distant as
to allow the arm of the workman to reach over the
intervals between them; so that by descending from
one stage to another, and working on the portions of
canvas intervening between them, the whole piece can
be prepared ina similar way. The edge of the plank
or platform forming each stage of the scaffolding is
about a foot or fifteen inches distant from the canvas,
so that the workman is enabled conveniently to reach it.
The process here described relates to the back of the
canvas—that surface which is to be underneath or
next to the fioor when the finished floor-cloth is in
use. After this ‘trowel-colour’ is, however, laid on
the back of the canvas, and when it is nearly dry,
operations commence on the face, which has hitherto
been left untouched. The surface is wetted with a

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

341

weak solution of size, and rubbed down with flat pieces
of pumice-stone, as in the former case, and with the
same view of preparing the fibres of the canvas for the
chara) day of the paint. When this is done, the face is
not further proceeded with until the back is finished.

The thickness of the colour laid on, and the absence
of turpentine or ‘driers’ in the paint renders the
drying a slow process, from ten days to a fort-
night being required for the drying of the ‘trowel-
colour,—when this is, however, effected, a second
coating of paint is laid on, having the same colour as
the former, but differing from it in two respects: it is
much more liquid, on account of the addition of an
extra portion of oil, although considerably thicker
than common house-paint; and it is laid on wholly
with a brush, instead of being worked conjointly with
a brush and a trowel, Hence it is called the ‘ brush-
colour,’ to distinguish it from the first or ‘ trowel-
colour.’ The tint is of no particular importance ; but
we believe that each manufacturing firm is accustomed
to adopt one particular colour for the back of their
floor-cloth, which thus becomes a kind of symbol;
besides which, certain private marks are stamped on
the back of the cloth; after which that surface is
finished. ‘The time has been when a duty was laid on
fluor-cloth, and when the Excise officer exercised that
supervision which is so vexatious and mischievous in
manufactures; but this is no longer the case.

The back of the canvas is entirely finished before the
face has undergone any process except the sizing and
rubbing down with pumice-stone ; but now the pre-
paration of this surface is attended to. A ‘ trowel-
colour,’ similar in consistence to that used on the
back, is applied, and allowed to remain untouched till
dry. Then the face is pumiced a second time, to work
down some of the asperitics and projections which still
remain on the surface. To this succeeds a second
trowel-colour, in every respect resembling the first ;
and afier a due interval for drying, the surface is a
third time rubbed down with pumice. Again is the
routine repeated, by applying a third trowel-colour,
and following it up with a fourth rubbing down
with a pumice, after which is given a ‘ brush-colour :’
the object of this careful and long-continued series
of operations, which occupies a period of two or three
months, is to bring the surface of the canvas to a state
of great smoothness and pliability. The repeated rub-
bing with pumice-stone not only levels irregularities,
but imparts to the canvas much of the pliability and
durability of leather. We believe that where floor-
cloths are made expressly to be sold at a low price,
the routine of processes is more expeditious and less
complete than that here indicated ; but we are describ-
ing the operations of an establishment where none but
the better kinds are manufactured, as a means of giving
a more close insight into the matter.

We now approach that class of operations which, 96
far as appearance is concerned, is the most important
of any, and the most interesting to a stranger who
visits a factory of this kind: we mean the printing, or
transfer of a device to the surface of the cloth. It
must be borne in mind that the canvas is all this time
in a vertical position, stretched over the frame to which
it had been fixed two or three months before ; and that
the colour of the final coating of paint is that which is to
form the ground or foundation colour of the pattern. The
printing is effected while the canvas 1s lying horizon-
tally on a long bench or table; and an entire removal
is therefore necessary. The painted canvas is
gradually loosened from the nails by which it 18
fastened to the frame, and is transferred to a roller
whose length nearly corresponds with the width of the
canvas. ‘The canvas in its original state weighs not
much Jess than two hundred pounds; and the vast

342

body of paint subsequently applied to it increases the
weight very considerably ; so that the loosening of the
canvas from the frame, the transference to a roller, and
the hauling up of the roller with its load to the print-
ing-room up stairs, are arrangements requiring some
tact and judgment. When the roller is carried up, it
is placed horizontally at a few inches from the floor, in
front of a very long work-bench ; and two pucneos
or projecting axles at the ends of the roller being placed
in sockets, the canvas can be uncovered from the roller
by the rotation of the latter, and spread out upon the
bench to be printed.

Here it will be desirable to offer a few brief expla-
nations respecting the age of floor-cloths and the
modes of produeing them. We have before alluded
to the original block first cut for the floor-cloth manu-
facture. This is now in the possession of the firm whose
establishment we are describing, an establishment
which was the first in England in this line of business.
Before the year 1754 Mr. Nathan Smith, the founder
of the firm of Messrs. Smith and Baber, was accustomed
to manufacture floor-cloth in pieces of two or three

ards square, in the only method known at that time.
Holes were cut in some determinate pattern in thin

lates of metal or pasteboard ; and these plates being
aid on the canvas, and paint applied with a brush, the
paint could only reach the canvas at those parts which
were not covered by the plate: this is the method of
‘stencil-painting,’ which is occasionally applied to
painting the walls of rooms in distemper, and for
other purposes. Each small square of floor-cloth had
a border given to it all round; and if a large room
were to be covered, several such pieces had to be used.
To what extent the floor-cloth manufacture was
carried on at that time we have no means of knowing ;
but it must have been very limited indeed.

A necessary result of stencil-painting is, that very
little substance of paint is laid on the canvas, since the
application of a brush levels the paint to a mere film ;
cad Mr. Smith sought for some means of obviating the
defect. He conceived that if a thick wooden block
were prepared, the surface levelled and smoothed,
a pattern sketched upon it, and this pattern cut out by
means of carving tools, the device might be transferred
by a process analogous to that of printing. Most
readers are at the present day aware that the blocks
used for wood-cuts, such as those which illustrate the
present’article, are cut so as to leave the pattern un-
touched ; that is, the parts of the block cut are only such
as give the white lines or portions of the devices;
whereas the black lines, which usually constitute the
picture, are produced from the surface of the block left
uncut. The block being pressed down on an elastic
surface covered with ink, or ink being applied b
means of soft elastic balls, or by means of cylindrica
rollers, the surface only of the device receives a coat-
ing of ink, leaving the interstices free ; and upon this
being transferred to paper, the black lines of the wood-
engraving result.

On this principle did Mr. Smith conceive that the
paint might be applied to floor-cloth, the paint in
this case being a representative of the ink in the
former. He cut with his own hands a device on a
square block of wood measuring about twelve or
fifteen inches each way, a device which is represented
in the annexed cut taken from the block itself. The

attern, it will be seen, is nota very elaborate one;

ut still it was one calculated to test the practicability
of the plan which had suggested itself to his mind.
An impression from this block was exhibited by Pro-
fessor Brande, in an illustrated lecture on the floor-
cloth manufacture at the Royal Institution, about five
or six years ago; and the block itself is carefully pre-
served by the descendants of Mr. Smith, as an histori-

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

[Aveust, 1842.

NUN Se

(The orizinal Floor-cloth printing-block.}

cal memento of an important step in the pragress of
the manufacture.

Mr. Smith, like inventors generally, was very care-
ful of his production, and for a considerable period
printed all his floor-cloths with his own hand, allowing
none of the workmen to see the block, and adopting:
singular precautions to damp the curiosity of visitors.
The original manufactory occupied the site of the
present building, and remained standing for forty
years, when it was burnt down in 1795. The present
structure has been standing not quite twenty years.

The method of printing, originally planned, was:
very much more simple than that now adopted, owing
to acircumstance which it is important that we should:
clearly explain. If, instead of printing in one colour,.
we adopt several, the complexity is greatly increased ;:
for it would be impossible to paint one part of the:
block with one colour, and one with another, and then:
transfer the device to the canvas. Jt is necessary to:
have as many blocks as there are colours; and: the:
great difficulty consists in adjusting these blocks so as.
to unite in producing one pattern. The principle is:
analogous to that of ‘colour-printing,’ introduced:
within a few years, wherein, instead of printing with
black or blue or any other monochromatic ink, we-
have several colours combining to produce one pat--
tern. In such a casé a series of plates is prepared,.
either by cutting away those parts which are not to:
form the pattern, or inserting slips of copper to form
the pattern; each pate being made to furnish one par- -
ticular portion of the device, viz., that of one particular -
colour. So it is with floor-cloth printing, under a.
different modification to suit the object in view.

A moment’s consideration will show that the carving °
of the blocks must be a point of great nicety ; for if a.
portion of the device, cut on one block, occurs at the.
same point asa portion on another block, the two co--
lours will be confounded together, and the device lost.
All the blocks are precisely the same size (about fifteen:
inches square), all are rectangular, and all are applied:
successively to every part of the floor-cloth, in patches.
corresponding with the size of the blocks. Each block.
is cut away at those parts which are left prominent in.
all the other blocks; so that it will not impart colour
to the cloth where the latter would be coloured by any-
of the remaining blocks. Perhaps we cannot better:
illustrate this than by taking an actual specimen of”
floor-cloth, printed in five colours, and showing the-
precise device cut upon each of the five blocks, as far:
as we can do so on a small scale. In our group of

SUPPLEMENT. ]

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

343

(Blocks to produce one Pattern.)

patterns we have represented colours heraldically, the
only way of so doing when black ink only is used; by
heraldically we mean the adoption of certain modes of
engraving used in printed plates relating to heraldry,
such as the following :—white is represented bya white
space, black by a black space, yellow by dots, green
by oblique parallel lines, red by vertical lines, blue
dy horizontal lines, &c. One of the six figures re-
presents the finished pattern, built up as it were of five
separate portions; and the others show how the blocks
-are separately fitted to join in producing the design.
Of these five, one is yellow, and the dotted portion shows
the parts which are left prominent in the block, all
the rest being cut away. In another we see, by the
arrangement of oblique lines, the pattern intended to
be given in a green colour. The red and the blue are
in like manner represented by their peculiar lines ;
and the black portion of the pattern is given in the
form which engravers call ‘solid.’ It will be seen that
the device differs greatly in the several blocks; so
much so that they could hardly be recognised as
uniting to form one pattern, unless that pattern were
presented at the same time. In some rare cases as
many as ten or twelve colours have been used in one
floor-cloth; and this entails—not only the cutting of
an equal number of blocks—but a greatly increased
amount of care in every part of the yt paneer

The choice of patterns for floor-cloth is of course,
like that of calico-printing, a matter of taste. Each
manufacturer exercises his ingenuity, or avails himself
of the ingenuity of others, in devising new patterns.
Somctimes, when a piece of ancient tessellated pave-
ment is discovered, such as has recently occurred in
the City, the mosaic pattern is immediately copied, and
introduced, either as a whole or in part, as a pattern
for floor-cloth. But from whatever source the pattern
is derived, the mode of transferring it to the several
blocks is nearly as follows. The pattern is first drawn
and painted in a complete and careful manner, on a

sheet of stiff paper exactly the size of the blocks, every
colour and every portion of the device being given
precisely as it is to appear in the finished floor-cloth.
Another piece of paper is then taken, and laid under
the first, and by means of a pin or pricker one portion
of the device is transfatred: in outline to the lower
paper. Thus: suppose we commence with green;
the workman follows the outline of the green portion
of the device, pricking through both papers with a pin,
and thus having a series of pin-holes very close to-
gether. The under paper is removed, and another one
placed in its stead, which we will suppose is to receive
the red portion of the device. The workman transfers
the outline of this red portion, by means of pin-holes
penetrating through bot tener to the lower one; and
this is in its turn removed to make way for a third.
Thus the operation continues, until as many pricked
pape are prepared as there are colours; and it must

obvious from the nature of the method that these
outlines are transferred precisely in the way in which
they occur inthe model pattern. This pattern thus be-
comes almost one mass of perforation, but it has an-
swered the purpose for which it was intended.

The blocks on which these devices are next to be
transferred are made with especial reference to the
avoidance of warping or twisting. They are formed
of two thicknesses of white deal and one of pear-tree
wood, ranged so that the grain of the one shall cross
that of the adjoining one, and thus counteract any
tendency to distortion. The several layers, after being
glued, are kept for some time in a powerful screw-
press, as a means of ensuring as close a joint as pos-
sible; and when the whole mass, about two inches and
a half in thickness, is dried and planed smooth, the
pear-tree surface is ready to receive the device. The
pricked paper is laid upon the surface, and a little

ounce or pounded charcoal, held in a bag which is

abbed on the paper, penetrates the pin-holes, and
leaves a series of slight marks on the block sufficiently

3-44 THE PENNY
distinct to guide the pencil of the carver in working
out the pattern. He then proceeds to cut away all the
parts which do not form the device, carefully leaving
the latter. Occasionally, if the pattern admits of it,
small brass pins are inserted to make up the form, and
brass pins are also fixed at the corners to guide the
printer in joining the several portions which he prints,
and in making the coloured portions to fall in their
proper places. ;

When the cutting of the set of blocks for one pattern
is completed, the blocks are soaked with oil on their
upper surface, to fit them better for the purpose they
are to fulfil; and when all is ready, the printing-process
commences. The printing-room contains a great

(Cushious.]

number of flat cushions similar to those represented
in the annexed cut. Each cushion measures about
three feet by two and a half, and consists of a aes of
flannel covered with a piece of floor-cloth. There
are, for every pattern, as many of these cushions
required as there are colours in the pattern about to
be printed. A pot of paint, not so thick as that before
spoken of, but still having a considerable degree of
cunsistence, is placed beside each cushion, and a man
with a brush lays a plentiful coating of paint on each ;
or at least there are one or more boys and men so
engaged as to keep all the cushions supplied with
sufficient rapidity.

The printer then takes one of the blocks, which he
holds by a kind of leathern loop passing over the left
hand, and dabs it down on the wet cushion, whereby a
tolerably thick layer of paint is caught up by all the
pecs parts of the block. He proceeds to the long

ench on which a portion of the prepared ranvas is

[Mau im the act of printing.)

MAGAZINE. {[Aucusr, 1842.
spread out, and stamps the block down upon the cloth,
whereby the first germ of the pattern is imparted.
He holds in his right hand a very heavy hammer, with
which he forces the block down into close contact with
the cloth, as a means of ensuring the transfer of the
paint. A second impression is then effected with the
same block close to the first, care being taken that the
two impressions shall form one continuous pattern.
The printing thus proceeds until the whole width of
the piece corresponding with the length of the bench is

rinted, as far as one width of this block can do it.

Then ensues the application of the second block, used
with paint of a different colour ; the block being pressed
successively over every part of the cloth, as the first
had been. In this second printing a twofold accuracy
is required ; first in respect to the successive applica-
tions of the same block across the width of the cloth;
and next in reference to the junction of the colour in
the proper relation to the colour of the preceding
block ; Hoth of which are attained by attention to the
guide-points fixed in the corners of every block.

When the whole of the blocks have been used in
succession, and the entire panne effected across the
cloth, and to a length of fifteen inches, the roller on
which the cloth is wound is turned a little, by which
the printed portion is allowed to fall down behind the
bene and a new portion to occupy the horizontal sur-
face of the bench, after which the printing proceeds
as before. There is a long aperture in the floor of
the printing-room, through which the cloth is allowed
to descend as it is printed, and to hang down freely
exposed to the air: new portions are unrolled from
time to time, as the printing advances, and the finished
portions fall lower and lower.

If we examine a piece of floor-cloth, we shall sce
that there is nowhere a large smooth patch of paint,
except in large plain patterns; but that the paint is
laid on in little nodules or spots, technically called
‘ teeth,’ from an eighth to a quarter of an inch square.
The object of this plan is the following :—If a flat sur-
face of wood, say two or three inches over, were dabbed
down on a cushion covered with thick paint, the paint
would be taken up very ua at On account ofa
kind of adhesion between it and the block and cushion :
it would be congregated more plentifully near the
centre than near the edges, and would look patchy.
and unequal when thus laid on the cloth. Instead of
this plan, therefore, the surface of the wood is broken
up into a number of smaller surfaces by means of little
cbannels which act as air-holes, and which enable the
paint to be taken up equably. We see that each of
these little spots or ‘teeth’ has the paint very thick in
its centre; this contributes to the durability of the
cloth; but if a similar thing were to occur with a
surface an inch or two square, the effect would be very
unsightly.

In printing passage floor-cloths of narrow but
determinate breadths, the canvas is cut into strips after
being prepared on the frames, and is then printed in
the same mauner as the other, with the exception that
the border is printed by narrow blocks much smaller
than the square ones. All the floor-cloths of either
kind are allowed to hang suspended in the air in
the drying-room until fit for use; when they are
lowered, spread out on the floor, and cut or planned
oe to the purpose to which they are to be
applicd.

. n concluding our brief notice of this interesting
branch of manufacture, we may remark that floor-cloth
is capable of being prepared in such a way as to form
a very durable material for covering the roofs of
houses. We have seen some which has beén so em-
ployed for nearly twenty years, and is still in good
condition.'

SEPTEMBER 3, 1842.]

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

{Interior of a Kamtchadale Dwelling.)

THE KAMTCHADALES.

KAMTCHATKA is a portion of Asia which projects in a
peninsular form into the Pacific. It stretches towards

apan, and the sea of Okhotsk washes its western
shores, the eastern shores of Siberia, and the north-
eastern coast of Chinese Tartary. .The Japan Islands
are some ten or twelve days’ sail to the south, and the
western coast of North America about as many more on
the east. Kamtchatka is about the same size as Great
Britain, and lies in nearly the same parallel of latitude,
but its climate is very different, owing in a great mea-
sure to a chain of lofty snow-crowned mountains which
runs from north to south and occupies nearly the whole
breadth of the peninsula. The summersare short, and
during this season a great quantity of rain falls and
thick ee obscure the atmosphere. The winters are
long and dreary, though the cold is less severe than in
the adjoining parts of Eastern Siberia. Sudden storms
of snow and sleet, called ‘ poorgas,’ come on, which, if
they were not almost always foreseen, would be very
destructive to the unfortunate traveller; but the natives
are remarkable for their perception of meteorological
changes, and are usually able to foretell a change of
weather twenty- attr or even thirty-six hours before it
occurs. Whena ‘ poorga’ overtakes a party before a
place of shelter can be reached, the usual plan is to
allow the snow to bury them and their dogs, and as soon
as it is over they extricate themselves as well as they
can. With one exception the rivers, though very nume-
rous, have but a short course from the mountains to the

No. 669,

of very superior flavour.

sea. There are many lakes, and some are ot considerable
extent. The absence of heat is unfavourable to the cul-
tivation of corn and grain, potatoes, and many other use-
ful vegetables, but the wild pastures are very luxuriant,
and abundance of fish and water-fowl in the rivers and
lake compensates for the defects of a climate which
does but little to assist the labours of agriculture. The
argali, a species of sheep about the size of a goat,
abounds on the mountains, and when they descend to
the valleys in autumn the hunter kills them for his
winter stock. Bears, wolves, rein-deer, foxes, sables,
a few sea and more river otters, furnish warm and
durable clothing, coverings for beds, thongs, ropes,
&c. The bark of the birch, alder, and willow are used
for tanning them; and the fat of animals serves as a
substitute for oil to burn in lamps during the lon
winter, and is used in frying fish.. The number nd
variety of land-birds is not great, but water-fowl, on
the contrary, are found in prodigious numbers, inclu-
ding swans, geese, ducks, teal, and snipe, and they are
The rivers and lakes swarm
with fish, particularly those of the salmon species; and,
according to Dobell, dogs, bears, wolves, foxes, sables,
and various birds of prey live toa great extent upon
fish. In the forests there isa great abundance and
veney of wild berries, as the wild currant, raspberries,
whortle-berries, cranberries, and a delicate species of
strawberry. The country is profusely supplied with
food for man, and the manner in which it is obtained
determines, as we shall see, the character and condition
of the Kamtchadale people.

Vou. XI.—2 Y

316 THE PENNY MAGAZINE. [SEPresBER 3,

him, but had not asked the captain to become his guest,
in compliance with an old native custom which pre-
sumes that a stranger has a right not only to a dinner,
but to the house and everything it contains; and in the
absence of an invitation Captain Cochrane had gone
elsewhcre.

Until the population has become greater and the
game scarcer, it 1s useless to expect that the cultiva-
tion of the soil should attract much attention. Food
may be obtained much more easily by the chase. The
rearing of live stock in the marshes and meadows,
and the felling of timber, will be the most profitable
course to be adopted whenever the population be-
comes large; but that period seems at present to be
very distant. We have, therefore, to regard fishing
and hunting as the main object of their attention,
Dobell visited a sober, active, and industrious family,
who gave him an account of the stores which they had

rovided for the winter. The man and his sons had

illed twelve bears, eleven mountain-sheep, several
rein-deer, a large number of geese, ducks, and teal,
and a few swans and pheasants. “In Novembcr,”
said he, “ we shall catch many hares and partridges;
and J have one thousand fresh salmon lately caught,
and now frozen, for our winter's stock. Added to
this, in my cellar there is a good stock of cabbages,
turnips, and potatoes; with various sorts of berries,
and about thirty poods (of thirty-six pounds cach) of
Sarannas (a root with a sweetish-bitter taste), the
greater part of which we have stolen from the field-
mice, who collect them in large quantities also for the
winter.” Tea, tobacco, and spirits are the greatest
articles of luxury; and bread or biscuits is a very
acceptable present. The Rein-deer Kariakees make a
sort of bread composed of the boiled bones of the deer,
with the marrow in them, pounded very fine, and
mixed with a portion of the meat and fat. Dobell
says it was “tolerably well tasted when eaten with
salt, and would have been really delicious if it had not
been for the smoky flavour which it had acquired.”
The scarcity of salt is a great evil, as the fish cannot
be dried in the open air so as to keep properly until
the next year. If salt were more abundant, as many
fish might be cured in some scasons as would last
several years. Salt was imported from the Sandwich
Islands in 1821, but whether the trade continues or not
we are unable to state. :

There are two descriptions of dwelling-places to he
found in Kamtchatka, the ‘ ballagan’ and the ‘jourta,’
the former a summer and the latter a winter residence.
A ‘ballazan’ is described by Dobell as “a building of
a conical form, composed of poles about fourtecn to
fifteen fect long, laid up from the edge of a circle about
ten or twelve fect in diameter, the tops all meeting at
the centre, and then ticd with osier twigs or ropes.
The outside of the poles is then covered with bark of
the pine, birch, &c., and oftentimes coarse grass upon
the bark. Other poles are afterwards laid upon the
bark, and grass to keep it in its place; and are also
fastened with osiers. This kind of hut is generally
erected on the centre of a square platform, elcvated
ten or twelve feet, upon large posts planted deep in
the ground. Poles are again placed in rows under
the building and between the posts, where they dry
their fish, which their hut serves to cover from the
weather, as well as to store and preserve them after
they have dried. The door of the hut is always oppo-
site to the water; the fire-place on a bed of carth out-
side at one corner of the platform.- A large piece of
timber with notches cut in it instead of steps, and
placed against the platform at an angle of forty-five
degrecs, 1s the method of ascending and descending.”
The jourta is adapted to a district in which large
timber is deficient, and Dobell describes it as consist-

~ mn

Kamtchatka became known to the Russians in the
latter part of the seventeenth century. The aboriginal
inhabitants, divided into two or three tribes, were in
time subjugated; and now pay a tribute of furs and
skins, which is collected by the officers of the Russian
government who are stationed in the peninsula, The
principal Russian establishment is the town of St.
Peter and St. Paul, in the bay of the same name. The
natives have adopted the-Russian language and the
Russian faith, though the old language is not for-
eotten, and some of their ancient religious usages are
said to be still secretly practised. Perhaps in no other
cease has the contact of a more civilized and a less
civilized people been attended with so small a shock
to the habits of the latter. The population Is so scanty,
and the fish and wild-fow] so abundant, that the march
of civilization has not driven the native population to
despair. The chase was their ancient pursuit, and it
still affords the chief means of subsistence. The win-
ter dress must always have been composcd of furs and
skins, and it is so still. The introduction of improved
culinary utensils, and tools and implements of various
kinds, has quictly assisted in raising the natives to a level
with Russian civilization, Nankeens are now com-
monly used for summer clothing, and that enterprising
pedestrian traveller Captain Cochrane, who married a
native of Kamtchatka, says that there probably is not
a single Kamtchadale who docs not now wear a shirt.
The natives live in small villages on the banks of
rivers, while the Russian population is usually found
in those on the coast. The whole population of the
peninsula did not, however, amount to five thousand
In 1822, though the numbers of a nomade tribe who
wander about with their rein-deer is not included in
this number. The native population is certainly under
three thousand. A few of them possess cattle, but about
four thousand dogs and twelve thousand rein-deer con-
stitute their chief wealth in live stock. These dogs, as
is well known, perform the same work as horses in
Ingland. From June to October they are left to shift
for themselves, it being impossible to travel at that
season; but in winter they are harnesscd to sledges,
and travel with great spirit over the frozen surface of
the snow, performing their task as beasts of draught
in a more Satisfactory manner than the rein-deer.

The Kamtchadales have a great resemblance to the
Chinese and Japanese, and, as Captain Cochrane con-
Jectures, are most probably of Mongolian origin. Te
supposes that they descended the river Amoor, from
Chinese Tartary, and reached the peninsula by the
Kurile Islands. The Rein-deer Kariakees are the only
part of the population who do not live in fixed habi-
tations. Great respect is paid to these pastoral chiefs
by the other natives, and they are superior to them
in many a les They bear theniselves with more
spirit, but they are proud, irascibie, and revenge-
ful if offended. They are of simall stature, not very
well formed; and the appearance of the men is infe-
rior to that of the women. The natives who live in
Vilfage3 are more timid, of a mild disposition, quick
and cunning, but honest, and their word may always
be depended on. Wlospitality is carried to an excess
amongst both classes. They pay visits to one another
ofa month or six weeks, until the means of the host
are quite exhausted ; when he presents his guests at
dinner with a dish made up aE meat, fish, &c., all
mixed together, and very difficult to prepare; and this
‘hodge-podge’ is taken as a hint that their presence
has become inconvenient: the next day they take
isi departure without cause of offence on either side.
So strong are their feelings of hospitality, that offence
is taken if it be declined. On one occasion Captain
Cochrane deeply wounded the feelings of an old man
who, it afterwards appeared, had prepared dinner for

.
7

1812.]

ing “ gencrally of a frame of timber put into a square
hole four or five fect deep, and within the frame a

uantity of stakes are set close together, inclining a
little inwards, and the earth thrown against them.
The stakes are left round on the outside, but hewed
within, and the top is framed over in the same manner,
and is arched and supported by stanchions. In the
centre of the roof is a square hole that serves the
double purpose of a door and a chimney, the inhabit-
ants passing in or out by means of a piece of timber
placed against the edge of the hole, with notches cut
In it to receive thefect. The top and sides are covered
Without with a quantity of earth, and sodded.” The
jourtas are warmer than most wooden houses, but the
smoke is an excessive annoyance. They are made of
Various sizes and descriptions, and those which have
floors are really decent habiationes but filth, smoke,
and vermin are too gencrally the characteristics ofa
Kamtchadale habitation. Occasionally one is met
with in which the tables and stools, which are gene-
rally of poplar, are scoured as white as snow, and the
walls hewed smooth and whitened. The jourtas of
the Rein-deer Kariakees resemble tents, so that ina
few minutes they may be struck and packed on sledges
in winter, and in summer on the backs of the rein-deer.
The author already quoted describes them as “ gene-
rally from twenty-five to thirty feet in diameter, of a
circular form, and composed of a number of poles,
from twenty to thirty feet long, forming segments from
the edge of the circle, and meeting at the top in the
centre, where they are bound with thongs. On the
outside the poles are covered with rein-decr skins,
excepting a hole that is left about the centre, imme-
diately over the fire, to carry off the smoke.” Some of
these jourtas are made as warm and comfortable as a
house. The doors are to lecward, and the two sceg-
ments opposite the door belong to the chief. There
are beds with curtains of rein-deer skins in each of
the other segments or divisions of the hut.

Captain Cochrane’s ‘General Observations on the
Peninsula of Kamtchatka’ contain some interesting
remarks on the means of improving the condition of
the native population, which is ina declining state
from frequent ravages of the small-pox and other
diseases, and yet, when he was there about twenty ycars
ago, there was a deficiency of vaccinating matter.
Under the present system of administration the colon
is very expensive to the Russian government, while it
is sadly oppressive to the natives; and there are man
abuses which with a little vigour might be abolished.
Captain Cochrane suggested restrictions on the intro-
duction of spirits, which were sold at most extortionate

rices to the simple natives, and when they becaine
Intoxicated they would thoughtlessly sell their furs for
less than they were worth. On an average cach tamily
expended in this article as much as would have pur-
chased enough flour to support them fora year, or
enabled them to buy proper clothing, culinary utensils,
nets, twine, tobacco, axes, knives, &c. ‘The ‘ yasack,’
or tribute, paid in skins and furs, though of incon-
siderable amount, was collected in an oppressive
manner, Another subject of complaint aruse from
the foreed or gratuitous services which the natives
were called upon to perform. These consisted in for-
warding the post, and transporting flour and salt.
Padvodies, or forced levies of horses or dogs, were
issued to officers and favourites, who, furnished with
one of these billets and a privilege to trade, plundered
the poor natives in the most cruel and intolerable
manner. Captain Cochrane proposed that the mer-
chants and pedlars should in some degree be restricted
as to the nature of the goods they supplied, and that
instead of hawking about so much tobacco, silks,
spirits, tea, sugar, &c., they should be compelled to

THE PENNY MAGAZINE,

317

take more woollens and linens, some flour, with a
sufficient quantity of axcs, knives, kettles, and other
useful articles. Lastly, he suggested that the ‘ yasack
should be abolished, and that cach family should be
compelled to take from the government thirty-six
ounds of flour per month, at the price of a sable or a
ox skin; and this would be four times as profitable to
the government, and relieve the natives of an injurious
direct tax. Instead of sending convicts to the penin-
sula, he would annually convey live stock with a cer-
{ain number of the Yakuti of Eastern Siberia, who are
so skilful in the breeding and rearing cattle. No
recent traveller has published an account of Kamt-
chatka, and what changes, if any, have taken place in
the administration of its affairs we are unable to state.

A Glacier in the Himalaya Mountains.—Its lower extremity
is a short distance from the village of Arindo, and the natives
say that it is slowly but perceptibly advancing. It occupies the
entire valley, as fur as the eye can reach; and a place that looks
more like the extremnity of the world does not exist in nature.
Vast mountains, alike bare, precipitous, and rugged, appear to
form a channel for it; and in the extreme distance their sides
are coJoured with the red and white tints of iron and gypsum.
The width of the lofty wall of ice, in which it terminates to-
wards Arindo, is about a quarter of a mile: its height is nearly
one hundred feet. The only way in which I can account for
the quantity of soil and rock upon its upper surface, on which I
gathered several plants, is, that it must have been collected
partly by the effect of winds and partly by the avalanches of
ages past, which fell upon it and deposited a detritus, when as
yet, from the narrowness of its bed, it was more within range of
their descending forces. I have never seen any spectacle of the
saine nature so truly grand as the dcbouchure of the waters from
beneath this glacier. The ice is clear and green as an emerald,
the archway lofty, gloomy, and Avernus-like. The stream that
emerges from beneath it is no incipient brouk, but a large and
ready-formed river, whose colour is that of the soil which it has
collected in its course, whose violence and velucity betoken a
very long descent, and whose force is best explained by saying
that it rolls along with its enormous masses of ice, that are
whirled against the rocks in its bed with a concussion producing
a sound resembling that of distant cannon, and if not perma-
nently intercepted by them, may be seen floating on the Indus,
even below the valley of Iskardo.—Vigne's Travels in Kashmir
and Thibet.

The Dog of Newfoundland.—A thin, short-haired, black dog,
belonging to George Harvey, came off to us to-day. This animal
was of a breed very different from what we understand by the
term ‘Newfoundland dog’ in England. He had a thin tapering
snout, a long thin tail, and rather thin but powerful legs, with a
Jank body, the hair short and smooth. ‘These are the most
abundant dogs of the couatry, the long-haired curly dogs being
comparatively rare. They are by no means handsome, but are
generally more intelligent and useful than the others. This one
caught his own fish. He sat ona projecting rock beneath a fish-
flake or stage, where the fish are laid to dry, watching the water,
which had a depth of six or eight feet, and the bottom of which
was white with tish-bones. On throwing a piece of cod-fish into
the water, three or four heavy, eiitneys looking fish, called in
Newfoundland ‘sculpins,’ with great heads and mouths, and
many spines about them, and generally about a foot long, would
swim into catch it. These he would ‘set’ attentively, and the
moment one turned his broadside to him, he darted down like
a fish-hawk, and seldom came up without the fish in his mouth.
As he caught them, he carried them regularly to a place a few
yards off, where he laid them down; and they told us that in
the summer he would sometimes make a pile of fifty or sixty a
day, just at that place. He never attempted to eat them, but
seemed to be fishing purely for his own amusement. I watched
him for about two hours; and when the fish did not cuime, I
observed he once or twice put his right fuot in the water, and
paddled it about. This foot was white; and Harvey said he
did it to ‘toll’ or entice the fish; but whether it was for that
specific reason, or merely a motion of impatience, I could not
exactly decide.—Jukes's Excursions in and a a aa

348

THE PENNY MAGAZING.

[SerrEMBER 3,

: t SJE Td z

= Se = —— e
= ee ee +. al
— ee ow SES we

(Swiss Cottage at Cassiobury.}

RAILWAY RAMBLES.
CASSIOBURY—(concluded).

Lorp CapeEv’s son, the boy in the picture before which
we are pausing, and which has suggested these melan-
choly recollections, was restored to the family posses-
sions by Charles II. on his own restoration to the
kingdom, and also created Viscount Malden and Earl
of Essex, the famous general who bore the latter title
having died without heirs not long before. His history
from that period is not without interest. In 1670 he
was appointed ambassador to Christian V., king of
Denmark, and the mission was attended by some
noticeable circumstances. As he eppeoached Den-
mark he was waited on near the coast by the English
resident, who acquainted him with an Order of Council,
commanding all foreign ambassadors to strike their
colours to the king’s ships as they passed through the
Sound; and explaining that three guns would be fired
from Croningberg Castle to give him notice, when, if
the act required were not performed, a tier of guns
would be Seep to sink the vessel. The earl was
therefore advised to pass in the night, unless he thought

roper to comply; but the latter, thanking his in-
ormant, said, ‘ He represented the person of a sove-
reign prince, and that by the law of nations no king
ought to strike to another; that to conceal himself
under the cover of the night would betray a pusillani-
mous ‘spirit-ill suited to the character of an English
ambassador ;” and then he added in the hearing of all
around him, he would appear under sail before the
Castle of Croningberg about four o’clock in the after-
noon of the next day, but those who dreaded the danger
and hazard thereof might land elsewhere. At the
appointed day and hour he a peared before the castle ;
the governor fired a gun, which the earl answered by
another; a second was then fired from the castle before
the ship, and then a third, which damaged the rigging ;
but the earl sailed on, and landed without further
opposition or injury. The governor immediately
represented the matter to Christian, who applauded the
Englishman’s conduct, and commanded the governor
to conduct him with the utmost respect to Copenhagen.

Accordingly the governor and the chief officers of state
waited upon the earl at Croningberg, congratulated
him on his arrival, and prepared to conduct him to the
court; but in answer the earl said his ship had been
attacked, and the privileges of an ambassador invaded,
and ‘that it did not become him to proceed any farther
until his master was righted, and satisfaction made for
the insult which had been offered to him.” Commis-
sioners were now directed to inquire into the matter,
who condemned the unfortunate governor to ask
forgiveness in the open street before the earl’s lodg-
ings in Croningberg, which was publicly done, the
ear] standing in the balcony. The transaction would
have redounded all the more to the earl’s character, if
he had spared the governor some of the humiliating
circumstances here described, which certainly could
not be necessary for the establishment of his master’s
honour. On his return, he took an active part in
politics, and held, among various other posts, that of
the lord-lieutenancy of Ireland, from which he was
recalled. Subsequently he joined the patriotic party
headed by Lord William Russell, Algernon Sydney,
and others, and was in consequence struck out of the
list of the privy council. Nor was that all. When
the Rye-house plot was discovered, the earl was
arrested at Cassiobury, in June, 1683, and thence con-
ducted to the Tower escorted by a party of horse. He
left the countess apparently with a cheerful conviction
that there was no danger, and when some of his friends
pressed him to escape, and pointed out the means, he
refused on the ground that his friend Lord William
Russell would be thereby endangered. But he is
said to have been a man of a melancholy temperament,
and the cell to which he was conducted was not cal-
culated to dispel whatever gloomy thoughts his situa-
tion might instigate. From that very cell his father
Lord Capel had been led to execution by the parlia-
ment; and there had perished, by suicide or murder,
the Earl of Northumberland, his wife’s grandfather,
in the time of Elizabeth. He wrote to the countess a
touching letter to express his regret at the ruin he had
brought on her and her children ; but she replied nobly,
begging him not to think of them, but to study to

1842. ] THE PENNY MAGAZINE. HS

support his own spirit, and preserve his secret. The
issue of this business may be told in the words of Eve-
lyn, whose ‘ Diary’ records as follows: “The astonish-
ing news was brought to us of the Earl of Essex having
cut. his throat, having been but three days a prisoner
in the Tower, and this happening on the very day and
instant that Lord Russell was on his trtal, and had
sentence of death. This accident exceedingly amazed
ine, my Lord Essex being so well known by me to be
a person of such sober and religious deportment, so
well at his ease, and so much obliged to the king. It
is certain the king and duke were at the Tower, and
passed by his window about the same time this morn-
ing, when my lord, asking for a razor, shut himself
into a closet, and perpetrated the horrid act. Yet it
was wondered by some how it was possible he should
do it in the manner he was found, for the wound was
so deep and wide, that being cut through the gullet,
windpipe, and both the jugulars, it reached to the very
vertebies of the neck, so that the head held to it by a
very little skin, as it were. The gaping too of the razor,
and cutting his own fingers, was a little strange; but
nore, that having passed the jugulars, he should have
strength to nreceed so far, that an executioner could
hardly have done more with anaxe. There were odd
reflections on it. This fatal news, coming to Hick’s
Hall upon the article of my Lord Russell’s trial, was
said to have had no little influence on the jury and all
the bench, to his prejudice.” Frightful as the alterna-
tive must be of murder, if not suicide, one scarce knows
how to avoid that conclusion. If the earl had meditated
suicide, is it conceivable that after refusing to escape,
before he was in the Tower, lest it might prejudice ig
friend, that he should commit the fatal act on the very
day of his friend’s greatest danger, and thus by ap-
parently acknowledging his (Lord [’ssex’s) guilt make
more probable the guilt of Lord Russell? Turning
from these tragical recollections of Cassiobury, we may
remark that the earl of whom we have just spoken seems
to have been a man of domestic habits and refined tastes,
fond of the country, where he spent a considerable
portion of his time, and of his place here at Cassiobury,
which he almost entirely rebuilt, and planted all its
fine groves and pleasant gardens. Before laying out
the grounds, he sent his gardener, who bore the

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appropriate appellation of Rose, to Versailles, to study
the formal style there adopted in its perfection.

From the dining-room we pass into an ante-room,
where the first picture that arrests the attention is that
of another victim of the scaffold, the Duke of Mon-
mouth, Charles IJ.’s accomplished son, and whose in-
exorable judge was his own uncle, James II. The
luxuriant pictures of Lely now begin to meet us in
striking profusion, the subjects being principally those
he so much loved to paint, and in which he so greatly
excelled, female beauty and grace. An interesting
feature of the ante-room is the collection of exqui-
sitely-painted miniatures, chiefly copies of well-known
works by the late Countess of Essex. The ceiling,
forming one large oval, is painted by Verrio, so well
remenibered through Pope’s satirical line,

““ Where sprawl the saints of Verrio and La Guerre.”

The subject is Minerva and the Arts and Sciences,
This beautiful Jitde place opens upon one still more
beautiful, the Conservatory, which runs along the
front of the house on that side, with doors and windows
Opening into it, not only from the ante-room, but from
the whole suite of apartments we are about to pass
through, containing the antc-room, drawing-room, and
library. Nothing can be more charming than the
effect of the conservatory so situated, one side of cach
room seeming to be a garden of the choicest flowers.
In the drawing-room, among a variety of other pic-
tures, are a View of Rotterdam, by Callcot; three
Views by Turner, Sheerness, Walton Bridge, and a
Sea-shore—this last, in particular, a most extraordinary
contrast, in its quiet, sober tints, displaying all the
‘“‘modesty of nature,” to the more recent productions
of the artist. In all the rooms busts, bronzes, and an
endlcss variety of objects of vertd arc scattered about,
in the drawing-room we have, among the articles of
this nature, a lock of Napoleon’s hair, and a piece of
the willow that hung, we can no longer say hangs,
over his tomb at St. Helena. A set of cabinets of the
richest workmanship, inlaid with brass, stcel, tortoise-
shell, and ebony, also demand a word of notice. The
library, a long and handsome room, is also full of pic-
torial treasures; here are portraits by Lely, Vandyke,
Kneller (the two daughters of Hyde, lord Clarendon),

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[Intertor of Swiss Cottage at Cassiobury.}

350 THE PENNY
and Sir Joshua Reynolds. The same rich kind of
frame-work also surrounds many of these works, In
which Gibbons scems to have tasked his fertility of
invention and executive skill to the utmost. A little
recess here also opens into the- conservatory, and sit-
ting in it you look along the whole length of the latter
through vistas of beautiful and various foliage, and
flowers of every hue. Among the pictures which
adorn this little nook is Cooper’s picture of Wil-
liam IIJ., wounded (in the shoulder) at the battle of
the Boyne, and Lord Coningsby stanching the wound
with his handkerchief. In a cabinet below the picture
is the handkerchief itself, with the stains of the royal
blood yet on it, though they have lost their ensan-
guined dye. Other kingly relics are also here, as a
lock of Charles I.’s hair, and a piece of the velvet from
his coffin. Turning to the left from the library we
enter the inner library, where the less showy books are
thickly piled up on the shelves, among which appcars
conspicuous an interminable row of parliamentary
blue books. Several pictures of the Bedford family,
connected with the Capels by marriage, are in the
inner library, from the Lord William Russell before
mentioned, in his flowing wig, to the present Lord
John Russell. One of Reynolds’s most beautiful pic-
tures, a portrait of the late earl’s mother, deserves
more than this passing mention.

The oak-room, the next of the series, is so called
from a handsome oaken screen crossing it at one end.
Here are Landscer’s well-known picture the Catspaw,
Zoffani’s Portrait of Garrick as Sir John Brute, one of
Morland’s favourite subjects, a mixture of animal and
still life, here representing a boy, dog, and goats ina
stable, the Grey Horse by wand x Cattle by Wouver-
mans, Hogarth’s Musical Party, &c. The large por-
trait of Lord Abergavenny, in an ornamental frame-
work of carving, which, numerous as are the works
of the kind, Gibbons has left at Cassiobury, must be
mentioned, it is so truly magnificent; but for the
colour, you would fancy you could pluck and taste
some of those great pears or tempting bunches of
grapes, and make yourself a nosegay from the roscs
and other flowers which run over the whole so luxu-
riantly. In the satne room is one of Watteau’s brilliant
little pictures, the subject a party scated on the grass
and solacing themselves with music; and Cooper's
picture of the first Lord Capel defending the town of
Colchester.

How shall we describe her ladyship’s boudoir ?
That little palace, small enough for fairies to inhabit,
and lovely enough to have been decorated by fairy
hands. White and gold are the prevailing colours of
the walls and ceiling, the former partially covered by
the gems of art with which a new beauty is given to
all the rest. One of Carlo Maratti'’s sweetest pictures,
a Virgin and Child, a Monk’s Head by Carlo Dolce,
exquisite enamels by Bone, some miniatures by the
Jate countess, a lady in disguise with a cap and feather
—these are but a few of ilsartistical treasures. Richly-
bound books scattered about the delicate-looking
tables, music, busts, vases, flowers, cabinets of the
most precious material and workmanship, and all the
thousand other articles which minister to combined
wealth, title, and luxury, are used in the decoration of
the boudoir. From the farthest library extends a cor-
ridor: on the right, to the part originally occupied by
the chapel, now adorned with cabinefs of china, the
warming-pan once belonging to Elizabeth’s favourite,
Devereux, earl of Essex (no relative of the present
family), and which still bears his arms; and in front,
past the bottom of the great staircase, and so onward
to the cloister. Against the wall at the foot of the
stairs hangs a Chinese gong, or round shcet of metal
with reflected edges, which is used instead of a dinner-

MAGAZINE. [SErremMBer 3,
bell, and hasa fine deep and yet silverysound. Ascend-
ing the staircase, which, except in its fine carvings,
bears nothing remarkable in its aspect, we enter the
State Bed-Room, the walls of which are lined with
Gobelin tapestry representing agricultural life and
economy. They comprise, first, ploughing and sowing
the secd, this fills one picture ; then haymaking, where
the haymakers, a youth and maiden, are relicving their
labour by a little pleasant courtship, this occupies the
second: both of these are tall, but not very broad pic-
tures. The next occupies nearly the hole of the
wall on that side, and a part of it is hidden by the bed:
we can perceive, however, that fuel is being gathered
in one part, a pig killed in another, and grapes pressed
in a third to make wine. The last and principal pic-
ture is from Tenter’s Village Feast: it 1s the harvest
home, and the village is a gencral scene of rejoicing.
Attached to the State Bed-Room is a dressing-room,
with a beautiful stucco cciling, and another room
called the Wainscot-rooim is still more distinguished
for an ornamental feature of this kind. In the centre,
formed into an oval compartment, is represented Venus
attired by the Graces and Loves; and around the
cornice are Cupids at intervals supporting wreaths ;
the whole wrought most exquisitely in dazzling white
stucco. Another bed-room 1s noticeable for a picture
of Charles J., and a picture of the unfortunate king’s
three children; the last certainly by Vandyke.

The Cloister is the name given to a long vaulted
apartment or corridor, for it partakes of the appear-
ance of both, having richly-stained glass windows
along the right side in pointed arches, and an oriel in
the centre. The ends and the wall facing the windows
have some interesting works hung against them.
Here for instance is a genuine picture of the fifteenth
century, a half-length portrait of Henry IV., which
originally belonged to himself, and was left by him at
Hampton Court, Herefordshire, when he was there on
a visit to lay the first stone. The colours are almost
as rich as on the day they were first laid on; indeed
the adinirable preservation of the work is as remark-
able as its age, a circumstance that of course greatly
enhances the value which that age gives to it. The
king wears a kind of shawl hanging from his head,
holds a sceptre in one hand and a rose in the other.
The other pictures are also portraits, but of full life-
size, chiefly by Vandyke and Lely. One of them re-
presents Sir T. Coningsby, grandfather to the lord
Coningsby, with one of his fect resting on a dog, in
allusion to a defect Sir Thomas laboured under, a
short leg, and who, we are told, was accustomed either
to conceal it or to relieve himself by this method. By
his side stands a dwarf, whose name is carcfully in-
scribed on the picture, ‘Cricket.’ A beautiful suit of
armour and sword hangs at the farthest end of the
cloister, which belonged to the Duke of Bejar, whose
ancestor was said to have cut with the sword the
chain which defended the Moorish camp—we presume
in some of the carly struggles between the Christians
and Saracens in that country.

Once inore in the open air, and treading the green
velvet sward of the park, we turn to the flower-gardens,
the wall and gate of which we see some fifty yards or
so before us. In pursuance of the notification attached
to the wall we ring the bell, and presently the gardener
admits us. The whole of the grounds here laid out
into pleasure-gardens amount to seven acres; and are
so divided and arranged, that you secm to go on intermi-
nably from one garden to another, each unlike the last,
but all beautiful. Here we have Lady Essex’s, full
of the choicest flowers, now one blaze of brilliant
colours, and exhaling the most exquisite odours, with
the little summer-house looking so cool and inviting,
and a book yet lying open on the table: then, after

1842.]

winding about through low green alleys, we descend
into the herbaceous dell, beyond which again is the
Emperor Dell, so called from a rude series of busts of
the twelve Casars, and the rose-garden. At one part
our attention is arrested by the sight of two great round
balls of granite, the largest weighing upwards of seven
hundredweight. These the inscription informs us were
fired from the Castle of Abydos, on the Asiatic side of
the Dardanelles, into the Endymion frigate during
the passage of Sir Jolin Duckworth’s squadron in
1807 ; and by one of them no less than fifteen men
were killed and wounded. The Chinese garden, where
everything is neat and formal, with its pagoda-like
ornaments and porcelain vases, and that in which is a
fish-pond, having over it a willow grown from a cut-
ting of the famous one at St. Helena, are both interest-
ing spots, and deserve more attention than our space
will admit of being given. And now we hasten along
across the park a little tothe left of those bright waters
which we sce gliding away from the sunshine, into the
recesses of the beautiful woods, and after a few minutes’
walk reach a little rude timber gateway with a quaint-
looking top in which hangsa bell. This is the en-
trance to the Swiss Cottage, and the charmingly
sequestered dell in which it stands, where the rushing
sound of waters alone disturbs the deep solitude.
The Swiss Cottage is no toy or plaything, but a genu-
ine building with the peculiar national ornaments and
lofty surrounding wooden galleries, and is inhabited
by one of the earl’s domestics. 1n this gallery, as well
as in the grounds about, visitors may take refreshments
(permission, as before stated, having been obtained),
and it would be impossible to finda more delightful
place. The privilege of spending a day here is well
worth the coming down from London, though the dis-
tance be some fifteen or sixteen miles. Attached to
the principal cottage is the chicf visitor's room, which
has been carefully furnished, so as to give the idca of
the domestic hearths of the brave and free moun-
taineers of the Alps. Scattered about in addition are
Inany curiosities; as Bolivar’s boots, an umbrella
nade of a single leaf of the talipot-tree, uscd by the
grandces of Ceylon. A drawing hung against the
wall represents a night attack ona merchant ship of
J.iverpool by the natives of onc of the islands of New
Zealand, who were defcated after a sanguinary con-
flict, and their chief left dead. On the shelf above the
picture is the head of this chief. In the latticed win-
dows are some bits of finely-stained glass, and two or
three portraits, among the rest Holbein. With a stroll
along the banks of the river (the Gade), which here
rushes swiftly along, now pausing on one of the little
bridges which crosses it, to mark the peculiarly beau-
tiful effect of the water as it sweeps over the barrier
of planks and falls to the lower levcl beyond, now
in the rude arbour, or against the trunk and beneath
the wide-spreading branches of some aged tree, to
look again and again on the quict beauty of the whole,
we at last, with reluctance, take the path across the
park towards the lodge gate, and presently lose sight
of all that pertains to Cassiobury.

ON RIVERS, GEOGRAPHICALLY CON-
SIDERED.

[Continued from page 332.)

In some places the elevated mountain-rezions border
immediately on low plains. In such cases the rivers
cannot be said to have a middle course ; for as soon as
they reach the plain their character is changed, and the
rapid torrent is converted into a gentle stream. Thus
the Maraiion, after issuing from the Pongo de Manse-
riche, and entering the great plain, flows slowly through
the alluvial level; ant the Ganges, after leaving the

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

351
(Iimalaya Mountains at Hurdwar, flows with ereat
bends through the immense plains of Hindustan. All

the rivers which descend from the southern declivity
of the Alps to the plain which the river Po traverses
are of the same description. In most cases, however,
the mountain-regions are not in immediate contact
with the plains, but are separated from them by hilly
tracts, and that portion of the course of a river which
lies through such a hilly region is called the middle
course. The rocky masses rarely approach the bed of
the river which has a middle course, but retire to some
distance from thei, so as to form between the higher
grounds a wide valley, which the inundations of the
river have covered witha thick layer of alluvial soil.
It is remarkable that the highest ground of these
valleys occurs, without exception, on the very banks of
the rivers, and that the land slopes from them towards
the base of the higher grounds. Accordingly the
inundations generally cover the lower tracts, which are
at some distance from the river, to the depth of several
feet, while the banks are still above the surface of the
water. The slopes of the higher grounds, which may
be considered as the outer banks of the river, because
they fix a limit to its inundations, are generally gradual,
and covered with vegetation. The current of the
river itself is gentle. This change, when compared
with that of the mountain-stream, is partly due to the
more gentle descent of the hilly region, and partly to
the form of its course. The bed of the river rarely
lies in a straight line, but continually forms bends,
which are not acute angles, as in the case of the moun-
tain-streams, but have only a small curvature, so that
the river runs through the valley in a serpentine
course. This circumstance renders the course of the
river much longer than it would be if it flowed ina
straight line, and consequently diminishes the fall and
the rapidity of the current.

It is observed that rivers form numerous small
islands and sand-banks a short distance below the
place where they issue from the mountain-region.
hus the Rhine, between Basel and Kehl, opposite
Strasburg, and the Amazonas below the Pongo de
Mansceriche, as far cast as the mouth of the Yapura,
and the Mississippi between the mouth of the St.
Peter river and that of the Missouri, form islands and
sand-banks. This is easily to be accounted for, by
observing that the river, on issuing from the moun-
tains, retains a large quantity of earthy matter in sus-
pension, which subsides when the current decreascs in
rapidity. This sediment forms islets and sand-banks.
Though it rarely happens, as already observed, that
the rocky masses approach close to the banks in the
middle course of ariver, yet this generally occurs
several tinics, and at such places the river usually
forms rapids and whirlpools. A ledge of rocks tra-
verses the bed of the river in some places. Such
Iedges occur in the Danube at Passau, near Neuburg
above Vienna, near Presburg in Hungary, above Pesth,
and at Orshova, or Orsova, on the boundary-line be-
tween Austria and Turkey. On the Rhine they occur
only between Mainz and Bonn, where the river is
traversed by three Icdges, at Bingen, at St. Goar, and
near Andernach respectively. Such ledges are found
in nearly all the large rivers of Europe. The cleva-
tions by which they are produced are sometimes con-
nected with ranges of hills.

Ledges of this description occur in many of the
Atlantic rivers of the United States, as the Potemac,
the James River, and others; and they mark with pre-
cision the passage of the rivers from the undulating or
hilly region to the low plains along the coast. There
are of course rapids where these ledges occur.

The lower course of rivers usually lies through a
plain. In general there are no hills which constitute

352

the outer margin of ils course, and consequently there
is no bottom or valley through which it runs. The
banks are very little raised above the surface of the
waters, and the level ground extends to a greater dis-
tance. The current is slow, the fall being very small.
Thus it was observed by La Condamine, that the
Amazonas from the narrow at Obydos to its mouth, a
distance of seven hundred miles, does not fall quite
twelve feet, or little more than one-fifth of an inch per
mile. It can hardly be conceived that a river with so
small a fall could propel its waters, and as the current
of the Amazonas 1s considerable, it can only be ac-
counted for by supposing that the enormous volume
of water which the river brings down drives on by its
pressure that which is before it until it reaches the
sea. The surface of the Elbe at Hamburgh, about
seventy miles from the North Sea, is not more than
six feet above the sea, and the fall per mile very little
exceeds an inch. The surface of the plain through
which a river runs genera!ly consists of an alluvium,
which the river has deposited during the inundations.
The matter of which this alluvium consists is soft and
loosely bound together, and consequently the current,
slow as it is, has power enough to remove a portion of
the banks froin one side, and to deposit the detached
matter on the other. Thus great changes are pro-
duced in the course of rivers in the lapse of time.
Major Rennell surveyed a large portion of the lower
course of the Ganges about fifty years ago, and his
maps were very exact at the time. He also observed
the changes which the river had produced in its bed.
A few years ago the course of the Ganges was again
surveyed, for the purpose of establishing a stcam-
navigation, and it was found that the course of the
river hardly in any place aerced with the maps of
Renncll. The most remarkable circumstance, how-
ever, is, that a river frequently divides into a number
of arms, each of which runs to the sea, though some
branches reunite and again detach themselves from
one another. Thus the Danube reaches the sea by
seven arms, as the Nile formerly did, according to the
ancient accounts, though there are now only five arms
in the Nile. Our best maps represent the number of
the mouths of the Ganges as amounting to ten at least.
This division of a river into several arms is easily un-
derstood when the soft nature of the alluvium is con-
sidered ; and if we suppose that the river, in its ope-
ration of changing its ed, finds in its way a piece of
rock or other matter harder than the alluvial soil, b
sctting against such an obstacle the current is divided,
and flows on both sides of it: the following inundation
removes still more of the alluvium, and thus, in course
of time, a new arm is formed.

The country which is enclosed by the arms of a river
1s Called its delta, from the form of the Greek letter
A, which the delta of the Nile, that which was best
known to the antients, greatly resembles: but the
term is generally appropriate, as inost river deltas have
that forin. Itisa common conjecture that the space
which is now occupied by the delta of a river was once
a part of the sea, which was filled up by the débris
and earthy matter brought down by the river from the
mountainous and hilly country throvgh which its
upper and middle course lie. This supposition is
Strongly supported by the nature of the soil, which
evidently consists of matter brought down by rivers,
and not of suchas the sca leaves behind when, from
any cause, it retires. Jt may be added, that this ope-
ration of rivers goes on during the inundations, for
after the waters have subsided the surface of a delta is
found tobe covered witha very thin layer of mud,
which soon becomes dry carth. The deltas of rivers
which are annually swollen by rains, which is the case
between the tropics, are generally much more exten-

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

[SEPTEMBER 3,

sive than those which are formed by rivers whose
inundations are only produced by the melting of snow

There is a river of first-rate magnitude which has no
delta, though it seems to possess all those qualities
which are supposed to be requisite to the formation of
such an alluvial tract: the St. Lawrence in North
America reaches the sea by a kind of bay, which ex-
tends upward of three hundred miles, and gradually
increases in width from three to above one hundred
miles. One would suppose that the form of this bay
would render it subject to be easily filled up by the
earthy matter brought down by a river whose course
exceeds eighteen hundred miles; and yet we do not
find that an alluvium of any extent has been formed
along the banks of this wide estuary, except on the
richt bank below Quebec. This single instance might
throw some doubt on the opinion thatdeltas are formed
by rivers in the way above mentioned, if the peculiar
nature of the St. Lawrence did not suggest an expla-
nation of this deviation from the common course of
things, which rather confirms than refutes the esta-
blished principle. The St. Lawrence is the only large
river which traverses a great number of lakes. Even
after having left the five great Canadian lakes, it passes
through those of St. Francis, St. Louis, and St. Peter’s.
In each of these lakes the current ceases, and it is
only perceptible where the river again issues from the
Jake. All the earthy matter thercfore which the river
collects and keeps suspended in its course from one
lake tothe other is deposited in these lakes. Thus
this large river brings no débris and earthy matter, or
very little, to its wide estuary, which cannot therefore
be changed into a delta by the accumulation of such
matter.

Most large rivers, as already observed, admit of this
division of their course into three parts, an upper,
middle, and lower course; but the exceptions are far
from being rare. It sometimes happens that the cha-
racteristic features by which the middle course is dis-
tinguished occur in the upper course. This takes
place when a river originates onan elevated table-land,
and traverses a considerable part of it. Thus the
Indus, the Sutlej, an affluent of the Indus, and the
Sampoo, rise on the elevated table-land of Tibet, and
drain a portion of it: in this part of their course they
reseinble the middle course of the Rhine or Danube
But where they leave the plain and enter the moun-
tain-region of the Himalaya, they resemble the moun-
tain-streams of the Alps, except as to the volume of
water. When the Indus and the Sutlej have descended
into the plains of the Punjab, they assume the cha-
racter of the lower Rhine and lower Danube. The
Sampoo, after leaving the mountain-region, traverses
a hilly tract of great extent, the valley of Asam, before
it enters the alluvial plain of Bengal. There are other
rivers, in which only the characteristic features of the
middle and lower course can be recognised: the
number of such is considerable, and some of them are
of the first magnitude. Thus the Volga and the Mis-
sissippi, neither of which rises in a mountain-region,
but in a hilly tract, in the greater part of their progress

resent the characteristics of the middle course of the

hine and Danube, but towards their mouths they
traverse a large plain. The number of rivers whose
whole course lics through a hilly or undulating coun-
try is still greater, as is the case with nearly all the
rivers of England and Southern Scotland, except the
Humber, whose course is partly through a low plain.
There are also rivers vahieh in their whole course tra-
verse a mountain-region, but they are all small; such
aresonie of the rivers in North Scotland and in Sweden,
and nearly all the rivers of Norway, and those on the
west coast of South America.

[To be continued

1842.]

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THE PENNY MAGAZINE

2 |

—

(Death of * The Squire.'}

FROISSART AND HIS CHRONICLE,
No. VI.
ONE OF THE “ DEEDS OF ARMS” OF CHIVALRY.

Ir ever an institution founded on so unnatural a basis
as that of making war, or the art of destroying life, the
pre-eminent object of living beings could have been
permanent, it must have been that of chivalry ; for
certainly never was human institution better supported
by all conceivable human devices. The deepest, most
universal, and most unvarying qualities of our nature
were, by a species of the subtlest skill, made sub-
servient to a power which was a practical antithesis to
them all. Thus, for the love of God, we were taught
to destroy his noblest creatures and to deface his fair
world; and in order to convince the ‘ladies’ of our
devotion to their interests, it was necessary that we

No. 670.

| should be continually devising some new feat that was

to injure or take off their lovers or husbands, their
fathers or their sons. The practical success of such
inconsistencies may no doubt be chiefly dated from the
circumstance that the future knight’s education began
at so early a period, that his mind as well as his body
was moulded into the desired shape, before anything
like independent action took place. In our account of
the ‘ Squire’ from Chaucer,* Froissart’s contemporary,
we have had occasion to describe somewhat minutely
the domestic education of the Rong: aspirant, almost
from the period of infancy to that of manhood. The
very interesting incident we are now about to tran-
scribe forms a suitable appendix to that description,
showing the ruder and more dangerous species of
exercises which, like the tournament, and other well-

* Vol. x., p. 101.
Vou. XI.—2 Z

354 TIVE PENNY
known chivalrous amusements of the period, kept up
in the man the spirit of the bay, and, to use a modern
phrase, gave us at least “an arined peace,” whenever it
was not exactly convenient to have war. Iere is a
“deed of arms,” from Froissart ; the period, we may
premise, is that immediately following the peace con-
cluded between De Montfort, duke of Brittany, and the
king of France, in 1379, when the English, under the
Duke of Buckingham, who had beei acting in con-
junction with the former, found it necessary to make
the best of their way home :—

“The Constable of France was as then in the Castle
of Josselyn, a seven miles from Vannes, and he had
given safe conduct to divers knights, English and
Navarrese, to go by land to the garrison of Cherbourg,
the which knights bad served the Earl of Buckingham
in his said voyage; and among other there was Sir
Evan of Fitzwarren, Sir William Clinton, and Sir
John Burley. They departed from Vannes, and took
their way by the Castle of Josselyn, and there lodged
in the town without the castle, thinking no more but
to dine there and so depart; and when they were
alighted at their lodgings, certain companions of the
castle, knights and squires, came to see them as men-
of-war oftentimes will do, and especially Englishmen
and Frenchmen. And among the Frenchmen there
was a squire, a good man of arms, pertaining to the
lord of Bourbon, Earl of March, and one that he loved
entirely, called John Boucmell ; he had been before
that time in the garrison of Boulogne with Sir William
Bourdes, with the Frenchmen against the garrison of
Cherbourg, at which titne there had been divers words
spoken of deeds of arms to have been done between
him and an English squire called Nicholas Clifford,
the which Nicholas was as then there present. And
when the Frenchmen were come to the Englishmen’s
lodging, and had communed together, and beheld each
other, then John Boucmell began to speak, and said
to Nicholas Clifford, ‘ Nicholas, divers times we have
wished and devised to dodecds of arms together, and now
we have found cach other in place and time where we
may accomplish it. Now we be here before the
Constable of France, and other Jords that be here
present; therefore, I require you, let us have now
three courses afoot with a spear, each of us against
other.” Then Nicholas answered and said, ‘John, ye
know right well we be here going on our way by ie
safe conduct of my lord, your Constable; therefore
that ye require cannot now be done, for Iam not the
chief of this safe conduct, for I am but under these
other knights that be here; for though I would here
abide, they would not do so.’ Then the French
squire answered, ‘Nicholas, excuse you not by this
means; let your company depart if they list, for I
promise you by covenant, the arms once done between
you and me, I shall bring you into the vale of Cher-

ourg without damage or peril; make ye no doubt
thereof.” Then Nicholas answered and said, ‘I think
well that ye will bring me thither, and I believe it of
a very truth, but ye see well how we go through
the country without any harness; we have none with
us, so that though I would arm, I have not wherewith.’

Then answered John, ‘ Excuse you not by that; I
shall show you what ye shall do: I have harness of
divers sorts at my commandment; they shall be
brought into the place whereas we shall do deeds of

arms: then behold them well, and choose which ye
will, and I shall choose the other.’ When Nicho

Clifford saw himself so sore opposed, he waa shame-
faced, because of them that were there present and
heard the matter; and he saw well how this John
offered him so much reason, that he could not with
his honesty refuse him. And moreover John said to
him, ‘Sir, take what part and what covenant ye will,

MAGAZINE. [SepremsBen 10,
and I shall not refuse it, rather than we should not
do deeds of arms.’ Then Nicholas said how he would
take advice, and show him his mind ere he elders ;
‘And if be so that I may not do it now, and that the
lords under whom J am will not agree thereto, I pre-
mise you, as soon as I come to Cherbourg and you to
Boulogne, let me know of your coming thither, and
I shall incontinent come to you, and deliver your
challenge.’ ‘ Nay, nay,’ quoth John, ‘seek no respite ;
I have offered and yet do offer you so many things so
honourable, that in no wise ye can depart, saving your
honour, without doing deeds of arms with me, sith I
require you of it”. Then Nicholas with these words
was sorer displeased than he was before, for he saw
well (and true it was) that he laid sore to his charge.
Therewith the Frenchmen went to the castle, and the
Englishmen abode still at their lodging, and go dined ;
and when the Frenchmen were in their castle,
there was no little speaking of the words that had
been between John Boucmell and Nicholas Clifford,
insomuch that the word thereof came to the Con-
stable, and he studied a little thereat. Then the
knights and squires of the country desired him that
he would put to his pain that this deed of arms might
be done ; and the Constable said he was content there-
with. And when they had dined, the English knights,
such as were there and would depart, they went to the
castle to see the Constable, and to speak with hin, be-
cause he should send at the least seven knights to conduct
them through Bretagne and Normandy to Cherbourg ;
and when they were come to the castle, the Constable
received them meetly, and then said to them, ‘Sirs, I
arrest you all, so that ye shall not depart this day;
and to-morrow after mass ye shall sce dceds of arms
done between our squire and yours, and then ye shall
dine with me, and after dinner ye shall depart with
such guides as shall bring you to Cherbourg ;’ so they
agreed to him, and drank of his wine, and then re-
turned to their lodging.

“ Then these two squires, John and Nicholas, ad-
vised them well of the battle that they must furnish
the next day; and so in the next morning they both
heard one mass and were confessed, and so leapt on
their horses, and all the lords of France on the one
part and the Englishmen on the other part, and so
came all togcther to a fair plain place without the
castle of Josselyn, and there tarried. John Boucmell
had made ready #vo harnesses fair and good according
as he promised to the English squire; and then he
said to him, ‘ Nicholas, choose which ye will have:’
but he would in nowise choose, and gave the first
choice to the French squire, and so he took the one
and armed him therewith, and Nicholas did help to
arm him, and so did he in likewise again; and when
they were both two armed, they took good spears all
of one length, and so each of them took his place, and
came a fair pace afoot each against other; and when
they should approach, they couched down their spears,
and at the first stroke Nicholas Clifford strake John
Boucmell on the breast, and the stroke did slide up tothe
gorget of mail, and the spear-head did enter into his
throat, and did cut asunder the jugular vein, and the
spear brake, and the truncheon stuck still in the
squire’s neck, who was with that stroke wounded to
death: the English squire passed forth and went and
sate down in his chair. When the lords saw that
stroke, and saw how the trunchcon stuck still, they
came to him and took off his bascinet, and drew out
the trunchcon ; and as soon as it was done he turned
about without any word speaking, and so fell down
dead suddenly; so that the English squire could not
come to him time cnough, for he had certain words to
have stanched him, that would have holpen; but when
he saw that he was dead, he was sore displeased be-

1812.)

cause of that adventure, sccing how he should slay so
valiant a man of arms. He that then had seen the
Earl of March would have had pity to see what sorrow
he made for his squire, for he loved him entirely.
The Constable recomforted him, and said, ‘In such
deeds of arms let no man look for nothing else;
though this evil fortune be fallen on our squire, the
Englishman is not to blame, for he cannot amend it!’
Then the Constable said to the Englishmen, ‘ Sirs, let
us goand dine: it is time;’ and so the Constable,
against their good will, had them with him into the
castle to dinner, for he would not break his promise
for the death of his squire. The Earl of March wept
eee for his squire, and Nicholas Clifford went to

is lodging and would not dine in the castle, what for
sorrow, and for doubt of the French squire’s friends.
But the Constable sent so for him, that it behoved him
to go to the castle; and when he was come, the Con-
stable said, ‘Certainly, Nicholas, I believe verily, and
see well, how ye be sorry for the death of John Bouc-
mell; but I excuse you, for ye cannot amend it: for,
as God help me, if I had been in the same case as ye
were in, ye have done nothing but I would have done
the same, or more if J might; for better it is a man to
grieve his enemy, than his enemy should grieve him:
such be the adventures of arms:’ so they sate down at
the table and dined at their leisure.” It is scarcely
necessary to add that the promised safe-conduct was
fully given.

Night in Newfoundland,—At dusk I walked on along the sandy
beach, but was soon stopped by great boulders and maases of
rock, requiring a good light and steady footing. I sat down on
one of them, and gave myself up to the influence of the scene.
The wind had sunk to a calm, and the sky was cloudless.
Before me lay the lake, perfectly still, except here and there a
ripple from a stray breath of air creeping across its surface;
beyond it rose woody hills getting black with the shades of
night; over these hills and woods there was no track except the
deer-path ; in all the country round there was no human being
except myself and a few whose voices I could just hear from the
little point where a small gleam of light and an occasional
spark among the trees betrayed our bivouac. Except this, not
a sound was to be heard,—literally not a sound,—not a ripple of
the water, not a stir among the woods, not the hum of a single
insect, nor the voice of asingle bird. I believe this utter still-
ness is characteristic of all American woorls, in Newfoundland
it is most remarkable: if you hold your breath, your ear cannot
detect the slightest interruption to the dead and dreary silence.
It may, perhaps, savour of affectation, but there was something
most oppressive to my feelings in this utter absence of sound,
and I rose to go back, when my eye was struck by the most
brilliant aurora I think Iever saw. <A belt of yellow light rose
i thiggporth-east, and passing just above both the Bears, it dis-
appeared in the north-western herizon. It was not a perfect
arch, but a sinuous band, and it had a regular onward motion,
like that of a waving riband, proceeding from the north-east to
the north-west. The northern edge, or base, of this belt was a
clear and well-defined continuous mass of light, while upwards
it faded away into faint parallel rays. T rays had no
divergence, and seemed to shoot upwards to a greater or less
height from a certain long narrow base or floor, the plane of
which was parallel to the surface of the earth. I could have
likened it to a long and continued army of celestial spearmen,
radiant from their own light, marching in dense array, with a
regular sweeping course, and gradually unfolding themselves
from a distant host massed tozether in the north-east, and pass-
ing along in regular procession towards the north-west. What
increased the illusion was, a faint reflection of the central band
2 little distance on each side it, but more preceptibly on the
outside, or towards the south, and this reflection followed the
primary band in its long sinuosity, exhibiting the same occasional
variations of brightness, and the same upward glancing of the
light. I am sure the rays proceeded not from any point in the
north, but shot upwards at right angles to the surface of the earth.
Iam not sure whether I render this description intelligible, but
the effect to me was as if I was viewing a portion of a sinuous

collar of light, at a great height above, but generally parallel

TIE PENNY MAGAZINE.

355

to some sae of latitude north of me, and thus encircling the
pole of the earth, while from this collar perpendicular rays shot
upwards. Thus both the arched appearance of the band and the
convergence or divergence of the rays, if there were any, weuld
be the effect of perspective merely. At first the greatest mass of
light was in the se iceaat) but it got less as the stream proceeded
from it, without perceptibly increasing in the north-west. The
effect of this brilliant exhibition in the sky reflected in the still
waters of the lake that stretched away beneath it. was majestic
in the extreme, and I watched it til) its brilliancy began to face,
and at length passed away.—Jukes's Excursions in and about
Newfoundland,

Coral Reefs.—Few natural objects are so well calculated to
excite wonder in the human mind as the coral constructions, in
all their Protean forms, that surround the greater numler of
Polynesian islands, and which demonstrate so perfectly the
power of nature to effect her vast designs through apparently
feeble and inefficient agents. It requires, indeed, an intimate
acquaintance with the habits of the lithophites, and ocular
proofs of their labours, to credit what stupendous submarine
reefs and islands, many miles in compass, are indebted for at
least their entire visible structure to the secretory economy of
these tiny architects. In such examples Raiatea is not defici-
ent. On the contrary, she is indebted for a large share of her
natural beauties, as well as commercial advantages, to the coral
fabrics which surround her shores. These chiefly obtain in the
form of reefs; of which the nature aud use may be best under-
stood by considering them under their natural divisions of a
barrier and a shore reef. The former encircles the island asa
breakwater or sea-wal), at the distance of one and a half or two
miles from the land ; presenting a precipitous face to the ocean,
to receive the assault of its billows, but encroaching in a super-
ficial and capricious manner upon the lagoon water it encloses.
The shore reef is continuous with the land around the entire
coast, and stretches into the sea to a variable, but usually toa
very considerable distance. Its greater portion is covered with
shallow water, which in many parts does not exceed, and is
often less than, a foot in depth; its outcr margin shelves
irregularly, and terminated abruptly in a deep channel of blue
water. The channel (which is also continued round the island)
furnishes a natural division between the two principal reefs, as
well as convenient passage for navigation. ral islets, shoals,
or whatever other form the madreporic rock may assume, can
be distinctly traced to one or the other of these apparently dis-
tinct reefs, but never occur as the productions of both conjuintly.
The outer or barrier reef resembles a wall no less in its structure
than in office: unlike the friable and arborescent material we
commonly associate with the name of coral, the rock of which
it is composed is hard, compact, and amorphous, bearing much
resemblance to a very firm cement; and it is only on its shoals,
extending towards the land, that we notice the elegant form of
the tree-coral, contrasting so strongly with the rocky and un-
ornamental structure on which it is planted, as to justify a doubt
if both are constructed by the same animals. The summit of
this reef is flat, several yards in breadth, but little raised above
the level of the sea, and washed by a heavy surf, which breaks
against its sea-aspect, courses over its level surface, and falls
gently, and as it were by a line of cascades, into the pace
basin on the opposite side. At ebb tide, when the surf is less in
amount, this reef is partly dry and accessible; but when the
tide is high, or the weather tempestuous, the sea, raised into lofty
and magnificent arches, beats over the rocky barrier with terrific
grandeur, and with a rolling or thundering sound, which may be
heard, on a tranquil night, at the distance of several miles. A
curious and mysterious feature in the construction of the barrier
reef is presented in the occasional apertures that exist in its fabric,
and which are of sufficient breadth and depth of water to per-
mit ships to sail through them with facility. The shore reef
is chiefly composed of amorphous rock, or block-coral, though
tree-coral is also abundant upon it, as wellas extensive beds
of sand. In many parts, where the water is deep, it presents
a submarine picture of extreme beauty; extensive coral -groves,
planted in beds of smooth and white sand, and mingling hues
of pink, blue, white, and yellow, appear through tbe trans-
parent sea; numerous small fish, of brilliant colours, glide
over the sands, thread the labyrinths of the coral branches, or,
when alarmed, dart rapidly for shelter into the numerous recesses
of the stony thickets: the whole affording a peculiarly pleasing
and almost kaleidoscopic effect.—Bennett's MWhahng Foyage
round the World.

2Z2

356 THE PENNY MAGAZINE,

[Flower-Boat.]

CHINESE BOATS.

Tae immense variety of boats which crowd the waters
of China may be divided into two classes; those that
have eyes, and those without them. To the former
class belong the military and trading junks that
navigate the ‘great sea.’ They arc nearly in the shape
of a new moon, and as clumsy a craft as could well
contrived, having sterns at least thirty feet above the
water, and bows the third of that height. The Em-

eror not only affords no encouragement to improve-
ment, but actually discourages it, in the exaction of
foreign port duties from junks constructed on im-
proved principles. These vessels have always a great
eye painted on cach Side of the bows. This nsage had
its origin probably in some superatition. Jf a China-
man is questioned as to its cause, hia reply is, ‘* Have
eye, can see, can saavey; no havo eye, no can see, no
can saavey.”

The craft used upon the inland waters of China vary
from the rudely constructed junk, down to the small
‘Sanpan.’ There are boats appropriated to pleasure
patties called ‘Hwa-chow,’ i.e. a flower-boat: they
are frequently accupied by the wealthy classes in
summer evenings, and are far the most part stationary,
being moored together in rows, secured by strong
hempen cables. |

The material used in building boats in China is
oak and teak: very little iron or copper is used, the
bolts, knees, and staunchions being composed entirely
of wood, as well as their ponderous anchors. The
seams are all secured or payed (a nautical term) with
chinam, which is a strong white substance like mortar,
made from the Chinam-tree: it much resembles putty :
becomes as firm qs rock, and never starts, and the seams
thus secured by it are perfectly safe and water-tight.
The deck-planks of Chinese boats are never secured,
although well contrived and dove-tailed into one
another: they are made to take up at pleasure, as under-
neath are kept all the culinary utensils, spare cordage,
and apparatus required.

The masts are made of bamboo, and the sails of
rattan sewn together, and fastened to bamboo joints
running parallel, so that the sails open in the manner
of a fan, and can be recfed at pleasure by closing an
of the joints, each angle having a rope or sheet attached
which joins on to one which can be belayed at pleasure
or held in the hand. e rudder is a large unwieldy

[Serrzemner 10,

affair, universally perforated with small holes, which
may be set down as a wonder for the wise.

The river craft, and small boats particularly, are
generally propelled by sculling, a method which is
made absolutely necessary by the number of boats
always in motion. This scull, which is usually of a
large size, moves on a pivot fixed aft and lashed
securely on one side, and the skill with which the
Chinese perform this operation confirms the old pro-
verb that “Practice makes perfect ;”’ for the boat is
made to dart forward at a rapid rate and in a line as
direct as any well-managed sailing vessel could pursue.
In the small sanpan and tanka boats, which are
pene chiefly by females, in addition to the ecull
named, a girl sits forward and rows with asmall scull
fastened to a kind of thole-pin, or the sculler manages
it with the foot. ©

{Sanpan.)

On the canals and the rivers of the interior, oars
are used in addition to the sculls. Mr. Davis, in ‘The
Chinese,’ thus describes them :—‘t The oars which
they occasionally use towards the head of their boats,
besides the cull abaft, are rather short, with broad
blades. These are suspended with a loop on a strong
peg at the side of the boat, and there is an advantage
in its not being always necessary to unship them, as,
when useless, they are drawn by the water close to the
vessel's side, without any retarding effect. There is
besides no friction, nor any noise in a rullock, no
encumbrance of oars within the boat.”

The interior accommodations and fittings up of
Chinese boats show great ingenuity, and are adapted
in every way to comfort. Large coverings or awnings
stretch fore and aft, made of bamboos and rattan, and
consist of several divisions, which can be removed
either altogether or separately at pleasure: they are
quite impervious to the rays of the sun. In the large
chop and flower boats there is a complete upper deck,
which is again covered in withan awning: it com-
municates with the interior of the boat by short steps.

The interiors of the flower and hoppo Goals are very
tasteful, indeed they may be compared to floating

avilions: they are beautifully painted, and carpeted or
hava a fine floor-cloth of the Chinese manufacture ;
latticed windows containing exotic shrubs and flowers
make the interior quite light; the large lanterns ace
hung in front, and the rear is fitted up with a kind of
altar where the Joss (the Chinese deity) is placed.
The large boats are divided into two or three compart-
ments, one being dedicated to culinary purposes, the
others as sleeping and sitting rooms, and where every

1842.]

comfort is enjoyed the same as ina house on shore.
Mr. Davis thus describes one more particularly :-—
“The travelling barges used by mandarins and
opulent persons afford a degree of comfort and ac-
commodation quite unknown in boats of the same
description elsewhere; but it must be repeated, that
speed is a quality which they do not possess. The roof
is not less than seven or cight fect in height, and the

rincipal accommodations consist of an ante-room at
the head for servants, a sitting-room about the centre
of the boat, and a sleeping apartment and closct abaft.
All the cooking gocs on upon the high overhanging
stern, where the crew also are accommodated. There
are gangways of boards on each side of the vessel,
which serve for poune it along the shallows, by means
of very long and light bamboos, and which also allow

of the servants and crew passing from head to stern

{Aconmmodation-Barge.]

without incommoding the inmates. The better boats
are very well lit by glass windows at the sides, or by
the thin interior lamina of oyster-shells. Others have
transparent paper or gauze, on which are painted
flowers, birds, and other devices, while the partitions,
or bulk-heads, of the apartments are varnished and
gilded. The decks or floors of the cabins remove in
square compartments, and admit of all the baggage
being stowed away in the hold. Everything in their
river-boats is kept remafkably clean, and this habit
presents a strong contrast to their gencral neglect of
cleanliness in their houses on shore, which have not
the same ready access to water, and are besides often
very ill drained. In short, their travelling barges are
as much superior to the crank and ricketty budgerows
of India, as our European ships arc to the sea-junks of
the Chinese, who scem to have reserved all their in-

enuity for their river craft, and to have afforded as
little encouragement as possible to maritime or foreign
adventure.”

The trading junks are very unwieldy, and having
very little keel, besides being so bluff in the stem and
stern, will only sail before the wind, therefore they

erform their voyages alternately with the S.W. and

.E. monsoons. ‘One of these boats is described as fol-
lows by Mr. Davis, in his ‘Sketches of China :’—“ The
most remarkable objects that struck us here were some
enormous large salt-junks, of a very singular shape,
approaching to a crescent, with sterns at least thirty
feet out of the water, and bows that were two-thirds of
that height. They had ‘bright sides,’ that is, were
varnished over the natural wood without painting, a
sey common style in China.”

he boats called ‘Tsau-chuen,’ and used on the
grand canal for the conveyance of grain, are very
numerous: there are said to be no less than one thou-
sand belonging to the government: they average about
two thousand peculs, or above a hundred tons, but
being flat-bottomed, and very high out of the water,
they have the appearance of a much greater capacity.

The small ‘Sanpan,’ or family-boat, are by far the
most numerous. Of this description there are esti-
mated to be upwards of forty thousand on the Canton
river near the city, containing a population of more
than two hundred thousand couls. These boats are

ceularly licensed by government. The husband

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

357

finds employment on shore, while the wife has charge
of the floating domicile. These women seck a main-
tenance in carrying passengers to the neighbouring
ei The cleanliness of their boats is remarkable.

he late Dr. Morrison speaking of this tribe of people
(Tan-hoo), who at Canton live entirely in boats, says :
—‘ They were originally fisherinen, who came from the
south to Canton. They secmto have becn named from
the figure of their boats resembling an egg.” These
boats are from fiftcen to twenty feet in length. Some
of the old accounts of Canton say, that “on the river
live many thousand souls, who never were permitted
to come on shore,” and these are descendants of
Tartars. The people who live in boats originally
came from the south, and being a foreign race, weie
not permitted to dwell on shore; but most of the
distinctions between them and the rest of the people
were removed by the Emperor Keen-lung, under the
influence of general pane of equity.

The chop-boats are employed as lighters in trans-
norting cargoes os down the river, to and from
oreign vesscls at Whampoa.

. .
" y °
ee Se eT ves .
OW ey ghtd rt) Y
= 7%:
2. ee at ’
a ae: AY Uf
4 ’

% He’ e? y “
ie ed 1

(Chop-Boat.]

The mandarin boats, or revenue cutters, are very
fast craft, and besides masts and sails, pull fifteen or
sixteen oars of a side; they have from eighty to one
hundred and twenty men, soldiers ; their round shields
are placed round the outside gunwale, and have a pic-
turesque appearance: there is a poop aft, covered in
with handsome rattan awning, which is appropriated
to the mandarin and officers; a mounted gun Js fitted
forward in the stem of the boat, and forms the only

iece of ordnance. The crew are armed with match-
ocks and javelins, also bows and arrows. These man-
darin boats greatly oppress the lower orders in the
Sanpans, taking away from them money or any present
they may have received from a foreign ship: it isa
process called ‘squeezing,’ and should the party make
any resistance, they get very roughly handled.

ON THE NATURE AND MANUFACTURE
OF VELVET.

From the time when velvei was first employed as a
material for dress, its beautiful texture has always
been greatly admired; indeed there is fe no
other manufactured fabric which can equal it for soft-
ness and delicacy. As a variety of the silk manufac-
turc, it may be deemed comparativel modern, since
many centuries appear to have elapsed after the intro-
duction of plain woven silks, before velvet was heard

358

of. Mr. Porter, in his ‘ Treatise on the Silk Manufac-

ture,’ states that the manufacture of velvet was fora
long time confined to Italy, where, particularly in
Florence, Milan, Venice, Lucca, and Genoa, it was
carried on to a great extent, and with a considerable
degrce of perfection. When, however, the French
manufacturers took up this branch of silk-weaving,
they speedily excelled their instructors; and it was
from the refugees of that nation, when forced to leave
their country by the revocation of the Edict of Nantes,
in the year 1685, that the art of weaving became
known and domesticated in Spitalfields, where it has
since continued with varying degrecs of success. The
same cause having driven another portion of the
French Protestants to Holland, the knowledge and
prosccution of the manufacture became located there
also. At Haarlem, especially, a very considerable
establishment was formed with this object in view;
but its productions were never brought successfully to
rival the beauty of French velvets, which continued
for a long time to command a greater price in forcign
markets than those of any other country.

Mr. Planché states that velvet was mentioned, in
various records of the thirteenth century, under the
Latin name of villosa, and the French name of velouis,
The latter name, derived from velu, ‘hairy,’ or
‘covered with hair,’ indicates in some degree the
nature of the texture; since the peculiar softness of
velvet is owing to a loose ‘pile,’ or surface of threads,
unlike anything presented by the plain varietics of
silk goods. It need perhaps hardly be remarked that
plain silks, as well as most woven fabrics, consist of
threads crossing cach other at right angles; the ‘long-
threads’ being technically called the warp, and the
‘cross-threads’ the shoot or teft. But it is evident at
a glance that velvet possesses an additional feature in
its construction. The back of the velvet exhibits the
warp and shoot with more or less distinctness; but the
face hasa short shag, or ‘ pile,’ occasioned by the inscr-
tion of short pieces of silk thread doubled under the
shoot; these stand upright on the upper surface of
_the velvet, in such numbcrs and 80 crowded together

as entirely to conceal the interlacings of the warp and

shoot. It is to this ‘pile’ that the velvet owes its
characteristic appearance, as well as that remarkable
soltness to the touch which distinguishes it from all other
woven fabrics, and which, while it would be difficult
to explain them in any intelligible terms, have them-
selves served for describing other bodies which present
appearances or qualities somewhat similar. The
beauty of the surface results in a great degree from
the uniform evenncss of the ‘ pile ;’ while this evenncss
depends upon the perfect equality in the length of the
threads composing the pile; any irregularitics detract
very considerably from the market value of the goois,
and hence the weaver has a motive for extreme care
in the prosecution of this branch of manufacture.

The insertion of the short threads which form the pile
must necessarily be effected in the weaving itself; and
‘this is done in a manner which we proceed to describe.
Instead of having only one row of warp-threads, which
will be crossed alternately over and under by the shoot,
there are two sets, one of which is to form the regular
warp, while the other is to constitute the pile; and
these two sets are so arranged in the loom as to be
kept separate. The quantity of the pile-thread neces-
Sary is very much more than that of the warp-thread ;
and therefore must be supplied to the loom by a dif-
ferent agency.

If the pile-threads were worked in among the shoot
in the same way as the warp-threads, the fabric would
be simply a kind of double silk, but without any kind
of pile; the pile-threads are therefore formed into a

THE PENNY

MAGAZINE. [SerrewneEr 10,
series of loops, standing up from the surface of the
silk ; and by subsequently cutting these loos with a
sharp instrument, the pile is produced. The leaps are
formed in a very singular way. After the weaver has
thrown the shuttle three times across, making the shoot
interlace three times among the threads of the warp,
he inserts a thin straight brass wire at right angles
to the length of the picce, or parallel with the shoot.
This wire is so placed as to occupy a position through
the whole breadth of the fabric, above the warp-threads
and bclow the pile-threads. The treadle is then put
to work, the alternate threads of the warp raised, and
the shuttle again thrown; by which a shoot-thread is
thrown over the pile-threads, and also over one-half of
the warp-threads ; the wire becomes thus, as it were,
woven Into the substance of the fabric. Two more
traverses of the shoot are then made, passing alter-
nately under and over the warp-threads in the usual
way, but not interfering with the pile-threads. Another
wire is then laid in, below all the pile-threads and above
all the warp-threads, and this is secured by subsequent
shoot-threads, as in the first case.

We have thus avery small portion of woven silk,
with two brass wires inserted among it; and by a
most delicate and difficult operation, these wires are
removed by the sane operation which produces the
raised pile. Each wire is nearly a semicylinder in
form, and has along its upper surface a carefully con-
structed groove, and along this groove the weaver
passes the sharp edge of a cutting instrument called a
trevat, severing the pile-threads in his progress. It
necessarily follows from this operation that two ends of
each thread are thus loosened, and these ends, being
afterwards brushed up and dressed, constitute a portion
of the pile, sufficiently long to hide completely the
woven fabric beneath. Two wires are employed,
because if one only were usad, the pile-threads would
become disarranged when it was removed. When
the liberated wire has been again inserted, and three
shoots thrown to secure it, the second line of loops is
cut and the second wire removed; and so on durin
the weaving of the whole length. The slowness and
delicacy of this branch of manufacture may be judged
from the fact that forty or fifty insertions of the grooved
wire arc made in the space of one inch, the loops of
the pile being cut an equal number of times. In
addition to the other complications, the weaver has to
use two shoot-threads, and consequently two shuttles ;
for the shoot thrown immediately after the insertion of
the wire is stouter than the two following. Mr.
Porter thus speaks of the unintermitting carefulness
required in the succession of operations on the part of
the weaver :—‘‘The use of the trevat in cutting the
pile calls for a certain amount of skilfulness or sleight
of hand, only to be fully acquired through care and
after long practice, while the minutest deviation from
the i ine in performing this part of the process
would infallibly injure, if even it did not destroy the
goods ; and the movements to be made throughout the
entire operation are so numcrous and require such
constant changing of the hand from one action to
another, that the weaver is greatly and unavoidably
retarded in his progress. It is considered to amount
to a very good day’s work when as much as onc yard
of plain velvet has been woven. For this the work-
man is usually paid five times the price charged for
weaving gros-de- Naples.”

It is at the option of the manufacturer to give to the
velvet a greater or less degree of richness, by the
closeness or number of the pile-threads; since the
woven fabric beneath will be more or less completely
hidden according to the thickness or fulness of the
pile. Sometimes striped velvets arc made; and these

1342.

owe their peculiar appearance to some of the pile-
threads being left uncut. The number of threads thus
left depends on the width of the stripe; and it follows,
from the nature of the arrangement, that the ve
Jas cross-way of the velvet, or in the direction of the
shoot.

Instead of silk, cotton has been employed within the
last few years as a matcrial for velvet, or rather for a
fabric bearing some faint resemblance to velvet; but
the difference between them is so great, that ‘ cotton
velvet’ can only be used at times and in places where
temporary appearance is required rather than dura-
bility. It is, in fact, one of those numerous attempts
at cheapness which have resulted from the cotton
manufacture. There are, however, other varieties of
cotton goods, resembling velvet in the circumstance
of having a pile or nap, but possessing a strength and
durability which render them very valuable as mate-
rials for coarse clothing; we mean the different
varieties of fustian, of which a word or two inay here
be said.

There are a great many cotton fabrics, differing
slightly one from another, but forming collectively a
class very different from all such goods as calico; this
class has been sometimes called /ustzan, for want of a
more comprehensive name. In most of these kinds, a
‘flushing,’ or portion of the shoot-thread, is left, so that
when cut they may produce a pile or nap. Some
flushed patterns are produced by extra warp or weft,
cither coarser than the ground or of a different colour ;
others proceed from certain portions: of the shoot
which are floated above or below the warp. Smooth
fustians, when cropped or shorn before dyeing, are
called moleskin, and form a material which has been
used within the last few years for trowsers. When
shorn after being dyed, they obtain the name of beaver-
teen. The cotton goods called cantoon isa fustian with
a fine cord visible upon the one side, and a satiny
surface of yarns, running at right angles to the cords,
upon the other side. When the fabric has a surface
of large parallel cords, it obtains the name of corduroy.
In all of these varieties a loose portion, or ‘flushing,’
is worked into the woven material, and is cither cut to
form a pile, or left uncut, according to the pattern.
The cutting of the pile is not effected in the same slow
way as for silk velvcets, but by the following method:
—The woven picce, after being taken from the loom,
ig spread out flat upon a table about six feet long,
with a roller at one end, on which the cloth is wound
till cut, and another roller at the other end, to receive
the cut cloth. The workman then takes a knife of a
very peculiar shape, and insinuating the projecting
point under the loose pile-threads, runs the knife
quickly along through the whole length of six feet,
severing the pile-threads in its progress. This
process is repeated throughout the width of the
cloth. The difficulty of cutting the threads with
accuracy and quickness has led to the invention of a
machine in which several knives are made to act
simultaneously. The cloths arc then subjected to the
action of a teazling or roughing machine, to render
the cut pile shaggy. To describe the causes of the
difference between the various kinds of cotton goods
enumerated above would be to give an analysis of
some of the most difficult parts of weaving; but we
allude to them for the sake of analogy; since the pro-
duction of the pile or shag on such of them as have
that kind of surface, is much the same in principle as
that of the pile on velvet, and is due to the cutting of
loose threads only partially interlaced among the
others, and the brushing and cropping of these cut
threads to a regular surface.

a ——_—— -

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

339

ON RIVERS, GEOGRAPHICALLY CON-
SIDERED.
{Continued from page 352.)

THE number of rivers which do not reach the occan
isnot great, if we except those which fall into the
Caspian Sea and into the Lake of Aral. The other
rivers without an outlet always terminate their course
ina lake. It was formerly supposed that the water
of some of them was absorbed by a dry soil, and that
they were lost in the sand; and this opinion still pre-
vailgs as to some rivers which descend from Mount
Atlas southward to the Sahara. But as none of these
rivers have been visited by Europeans, the point re-
mains doubtful. Among other rivers which have no
communication with the sea, some few traverse elc-
vated table-lands, consisting of plains surrounded by
continuous mountain-ranges, through which the waters
cannot find an outlet, and consequently collect in the
lower part of the plains, and form lakes large enough
to part with all their surplus water by evaporation.
Such rivers occur in the valley of Tenochtitlan in
Mexico. The most remarkable is the Desaguadero,
in the valley of Titicaca in Bolivia, which runs about
three hundred miles, and is lost in a lake or in swamps. .
The Hyarkan or Yerkan, in Chinese Turkistan, is still
larger, but its character is imperfectly known. An-
other kind of such lakes occurs in the plains of Mexico
and of South America, and almost exclusively in those
aris which have no rain or very Jittle. On the table-
and of Mexico the greater number of rivers between
24° and 30° N. lat. terminate in lakes; and in the
states which compose the Argentine Republic rivers
of this kind are numerous between 28° and 34° S. lat.,
west of 64° W. long. As very little rain falls in
some of these countries, and in others none at all, the
rivers are supplied with water by the rains which fall
at certain seasons on the mountains in which they ori-
ginate, and by the springs which exist there. But as
the supply of water is very moderate, it does not give
force sufficient to the currents to carry them through
those extensive tracts which separate them from the
sea. It is remarkable that some of these rivers and all
the lakes in which they terminate are salt in South
America ; and itis probable that this is also the case
with most of those on the Mexican isthmus.

Most rivers overflow the low countrics which are
adjacent to their banks, cither at regularseasons of the
year or occasionally. This takes place when the
supply of water is greater than the bed of the river
can contain. In this respect rivers may be divided
into three classes: the first comprehends the rivers
whose inundations are produced by the melting of
snow and icc; the second comprehends those which
are annually swollen by regular rains; and the third
those which only occasionally cause inundations.

Alllarge rivers that drain countries of which the
mean winter temperature is below 30°, are annually
subject to great risings when the snow and ice melt.
In such countries snow falls for several months, and
as only a small part of it is dissolved, it accumulates
to a great amount. As soon as the frost ceases,
the snow begins to melt, and runs off by the smaller
rivers, which suddenly swell and carry an unusual
supply of water to the principal river, whose volume,
being thus increased to three or four times its ordinary
maguitude, overflows the adjacent low country. These
inundations, though they generally improve the soil,
are very injurious to agriculture, by destroying the
growing corn, and covering extensive tracts with sand,
gravel, and other coarse earthy matter. Embankments
are usually made to prevent these inundations, but
after a very long winter, when the river is more than

36U THE PENNY
usually swollen, these embankments arc often destroyed,
and the injurious effects of these inundations are
increased by the mass of earthy materials of which the
embankments consist, and hick are dispersed over
the adjacent lands. In some rivers these inundations
last only from two to four weeks; in others two or
three months; and in some even five or six months.
Where the inundations are long, they are less violent,
and cause less damage than where they are short; in
the latter case the whole mass of water suddenly
deluges the country, while in the former the water
rises slowly. ‘his difference in the imundations of
rivers is mainly to be attributed to the direction in
which they flow. Let us take a river like the Missis-
sippi, which flows from north to south through 17° or
18° of latitude. In winter the basin is covered with
snow, and if the whole were melted in a few days, it
would produce such a volume of water as would pro-
bably cover nearly half the basin. But the melting of
the snow is gradual. Whilst the temperature in the
northern districts is below the freezing-point, the
spring has already made considerable progress in the
southern districts, the snow which has there fallen has
been dissolved, and the water thus produced has had
the requisite time to run off and reach the sea. Thus
with the progress of the sun towards the northern
tropic, the line of the melting snow proceeds north-
ward, and thus the supply of water runs off radually,
until the snow of the most northern region is dissolved.
More than two months elapse between the melting of
the snow in the northern region and the commence-
ment of the melting in the lower part of the river.
rhe inundations of the Mississippi therefore are not
extensive, if the great length of that river and of its
affluents are considered, but they last from three to four
months, A considerable part of the delta of that river
is indeed under water for six months, but this must be
ascribed to the tract of elevated ground which extends
not far from the sea, between the Atchafalaya and the
I.2 Fourche, and prevents the enormous mass of water
which collecis in the lowlands near the first-mentioned
branch from running off sooner. When a river situa-
ted in the northern hemisphere flows from south to
north, the melting of the snow of course commences
near the upper branches of the river, and procecds
northward. In this case the volume of water which
collects at a certain period in the Jower course, where
the lowlands are generally most extensive, is much
greater, and the inundations are much more extensive
and attended with more mischief. But still they can-
not be compared with the inundations of those rivers
which run from east to west or from west to east. In
countries which are drained by such rivers, the whole
mass of snow is dissolved in a few days, especially
when a thaw is accompanied by rain, and all the waters
thus produced pass through ite principal channel in
the course of aweck or two. Insuch rivers the volume
of water during the inundations is three or four times
larger than it is in the middle of the summer or the
beginning of autuimn, and the inundations spread to a
great distance, and frequently cause great loss of pro-
perty, and sometimes also of life, especially when the
Winter has been unusually long and the falls of snow
very heavy. But the river St. Lawrence forms an
exceplion here also. As its gencral course is from
West to east, one would suppose that a larze extent
of country within its basin would be annually subject
to inundation, but this does not appear to be the case
in any part of its course. If any portion of it is
swollen by the melting of the snow within the basin,
the river soon enters one of the lakes throngh which
its course hes, and thus the addition of a comparatively
small volume is not sufficient to raise the surface of

MAGAZINE. [SepremBeErR 10,
the lake to any large amount. Thus the same cause
which prevents its filling up the wide estuary pre-
vents the river from overflowing the adjacent country.

Rivers whose inundations are produced by regular
rains have the greater part of their course cither
within the tropics or at least between 3U° N. lat. and
30° S. lat. It is a known fact, that in those regions
heavy rain falls daily from three to six months in the

ear. These heavy rains commence when the sun in
its progress from one tropic to the other approaches
the zenith of a country, and they continue till it has
passed a certain distance from it. In the beginning of
the wet season, as this part of the year is called in
those countries, the rains are sometimes so heavy that
in the course of a day the level country is covered with
water a foot deep. The rivers of course soon begin to
increase in their volume of water, and after some time
they rise to the level of the banks, and begin to run
over. These inundations generally last from two to four
months. They are more regular than those which are
produced by the melting of the snow, and in general
do not exceed a certain height. The rural economy of
those countries in which they take place is founded on
the knowledge of this periodical event, and on the
certainty that the inundations will fertilise the ficlds
by depositing on them a fine mud, which enriches the
soil more than the best manure. Whenever the
inundations do not rise to the usual height, which is
sometimes the case, a great part of the country which
is not covered with water yields little or nothing, and
the consequence is dearth and famine. When, on the
other hand, the inundations rise higher than usual,
they are also injurious to rural economy, by reaching
those tracts which are set apart for the cultivation of
plants which cannot bear so much moisture as the
districts which are regularly flooded. Thus, in 1831,
the river Menam in Siam rose to an extraordinary
height; the inundations reached the large orchards
which for many miles in extent cover the more elevated
tracts along the barks, and afford subsistence to a
numcrous population. Several kinds of fruit-trees
were almost destroyed, and for some ycars the mangus-
tans and durians were scarce.

All the rivers between the tropics which are swollen
by periodical rains lic only in one hemisphere, the
northern or the southern. In the countrics through
which they flow the waters are low and the ground
dry during part of the ycar, so as to admit of casy
cultivation, and at another season the fields are fer-
tilised by the inundations. The Amazonas alone is an
exception. Though the course of this river is in the
southern hemisphere, its affluents extend far to the
horth and south, into both hemispheres, and probably
three-fourths of the tropical rains which descend-upon
South America find their way to that large river. To
this circumstance are owing its immense volume of
water and its great depth. ‘The Amazonas, properly
speaking, is never at its lowest level, in the sense in
which that term is applied to other rivers. When the
northern rivers cease to bring down the supply which
is owing to the periodical rains, the southern begin to
bring their contributions. This fact seems sacra
to explain the immense tracts of alluvial soil which
extend along the river to a great distance, but the
same circumstance also keeps the soil in a state of
continual moisture, and makes it a perpetual swainp.
Accordingly we find that the bales of that river,
which admits of a more extensive navigation than any
other river in the world, remain nearly destitute of
agricultural settlements, and are suill in possession
of savage tribes.

(To be coutinued.)

—

1842.]

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

361

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SVE "sees
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Pan *

[Fortress of Jam Rood, near Peshawur.)

AFGIITANISTAN.

Tue great road from Delhi to India and Persia passes
through Attok and Peshawur to Caboul. Attok, a
fortified place of no strength, contains a population
of about 2000 souls, but its situation on the banks of the
Indus, the ‘ forbidden river’ of the Hindoos, is one of
importance, as the river, which is here about two
hundred aud sixty yards wide, is crossed at this place.
The ordinary passage is by ferry-boats, but an army
exceeding five thousand men may be transported to
the western bank of the river with greater facility by
a bridge of boats. When the late Sir Alexander
Burnes visited Afghanistan in 1832, Runjeet Sing had
a fleet of thirty-seven boats at Attok, which were used
for the passage of his troops. ‘“ The boats are anchored
in the stream, a short distance from one another, and
the communication is completed by planks, and covered
with mud. .. . Sucha bridge can only be thrown
across the Indus from November to April, on account
of the velocity of the stream being comparatively
diminished at that season, and even then the manner of
fixing the boats seems incredible. Skeleton frame-
works of wood, filled with stones, to the weight of
twenty-five thousand pounds, and bound strongly b
ropes, are let down from each boat, though the Jeri
exceeds thirty fathoms, and these are constantly
strengthened by others to prevent accidents. Such a
bridge has been completed in three days, but six is a
much more usual period.” Alexander the Great
entered India by a bridge of boats across the Indus
near this very pa and large wicker-baskets were
used instead of timber frame-work, but with this
exception the mode of effecting the passage was very
similar to the one above described.

Fifty miles west of Attok is the city of Peshawur.
It is situated in a plain of the same name, of nearly
circular form, about thirty-five miles across, and is
watered by three branches of the Caboul river and

No. 671.

many minor streams. The latter are crossed by little
bridges, which are usually ornamented by two small
towers at each end. When Mr. Elphinstone was here
in 1809, the population of the plain was very great, and
one of the officers of the expedition took the bearing
of thirty-two villages, all of which were within a
circuit of four miles from the height where he was
stationed. These villages were remarkable for their
neatness, and were generally surrounded with trees.
The orchards were rich with a profusion of plum,
peach, apple, pear, quince, and pomegranate trees.
At the time of Mr. Elphinstone’s visit the city of
Peshawur contained a hundred thousand inhabitants,
and its circumference was about five miles. He
describes the houses as being generally three stories
high, and built of unburnt bricks, in wooden frames,
the lower story being commonly used as a shop; the
streets as narrow, and sloping on each side towards
the centre, and unfit for wheel-carriages; and the
mosques numerous, though the a buildings deserv-
ing of much notice were the Bala Hissar, a castle of no
great strength, and a large caravanserai. The shops
abounded with dried fruit and nuts, bread, meat, boots,
shoes, saddlery, bales of cloth, hardware, and ready-
made clothes. The fruiterers' shops were amongst the
handsomest. Greens, curds, water in leathern bags,
and various other things were carried about for sale in
the streets. Mr. Elphinstone describes the crowds in
the streets as composed of “the people of the town, in
white turbans, some in large white or dark blue frocks,
and others in sheepskin cloaks; Persians and Afghans
in brown woollen tunics or flowing mantles, and caps
of black sheepskin or coloured silk ; Khyberees with
the straw sandals, and the wild dress and air of their
mountains ; Hindoos, uniting the peculiar features and
manners of their own nation, to the long beard and
dress of the country; and Hazaarehs, not more remark-
able for their conical caps of skin, with the wool

Vou. XI.—3 A

362 THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

appearing like a fringe round tho edge, and for their
broad faces and little eyes, than for their want of the
beard, which is the ornament of every other face in the
city.” In 1835 Runject Sing fraudulently took posses-
sion of Peshawur, while he was negotiating a treaty
with the chief. The place is a good deal decayed since
1809, and Sir Alexander Burnes doubted if, at the
lime of his visit, it contained one-half the hundred
thousand souls which occupied it when Mr. Elphin-
stone was there. It now pays a yearly tribute to the
scikhs. The soil of the plain is very rich, and is well
adapted for cultivation by the spade. Three crops
are gathered in the year, and of barley, reckoning two
cuttings for horses before it is in ear, they may be said
to gather five crops. Provisions are cheap and plenti-
ful, but prices have risen with the decrease of the
population. Wheat was under 2s. a bushel when Sir
Alexander Burnes was there; barley less than Is. ;
a sheep could be had for 2s., and a bullock for about
25s. In one part of the plain a remarkable kind of
rice is produced which 1s exported as a luxury to
Persia, Tartary, and other parts of Central Asia.
When boiled, the grains are three-fifths of an inch in
length. The cultivation of the sugar-cane and the
rearing of silk-worms might be successfully practised.
The plain of Cohat, which is a subordinate district to
Peshawur, contains gold, copper, iron, antimony, salt,
sulphur ; and lastly coal is found.

The plain of Peshawur is surrounded by hills on all
sides except the cast, and the heat is in consequence
very great during the summer, but it does not endure
very long, and the country continues green all the
year. Some of the common plants remind the tra-
Veller of England. “As we travelled the plain to
Peshawur,” says Sir Alexander Burnes, “I felt ele-
vated and happy. Thyme and violets perfume the air,
and the green sod and clover put us in mind of a dis-
tant country. The violet has the name of the ‘ Rose of
the Prophet.’ The dandelion and other familiar
English plants are common.” Mr. Elphinstone found
the thermometer stand at 112° and 113° during several
days in sufnmer, in a large tent artificially cooled.
Most of the houses are provided with cellars which
are used as a rctreat from the summer heats. But no
country possesses such diversity of temperature as
Afghanistan, affected as it is by different degrecs of
elevation, by the neighbourhood of snow-capped moun-
tains, by deserts over which the winds that blow over
them in summer become heated, and in winter cold
to exccss.

To reach Jcllalabad from Peshawur, a distance of
about seventy miles, we enter the valley of Caboul,
watered by the river of the same name. This valley
18 In some parts about twenty-five miles in breadth,
and separates the range of Hindoo Koosh from the
Mountains of Solimaun. The river flows with great
rapidity through this valley, and is swelled by the
torrents which empty themselves into it from the
Inountains on each side. People descend it in rafts
from Jellalabad to the plains of Peshawur, notwith-
standing the great velocity of the current, and other
dangers which attend the navigation. There are five
different routes from Peshawur to Caboul, but the one
by the Khyber Pass is unsafe on account of the lawless
habits of the people, though on other accounts it is

weferable. Nadir Shah paid a sum of moncy to the

hyberees to secure his passage through this defile.
The Khyberces consist of three independent tribes,
and number altogether about one hundred and
twenty thousand souls. The country which they in-
habit is situated on the steep side of a lofty mountain,
descending to bare and rugecd hills, and comprising
some rich but narrow valleys. The extremes of heat
and cold are felt in summer and winter; and in situ-

[SzpTEMBER 17,

ations which do not admit of a free circulation of the
air, as well as on the naked hills, the heat becomes
intolerable. The following account of the Khyberecs
and the celebrated Pass which they command 1s from
Mr. Elphinstone’s work :—“ The Khyber Pass is about
twenty-five miles long, over steep ridges, and through
very narrow defiles. The road is often along the beds
of torrents, and is extremely dangerous in the event
of sudden falls of rain in winter. In quiet times the
Khyberecs have stations in different parts of the pass,
to collect an authorised toll on passengers, but in
times of trouble they are all on the alert. If asingle
traveller endeavours to make his way through, the
noise of his horse’s feet sounds up the long narrow
valleys, and soon brings the Khyberces in troops from
the hills and ravines; but if they expect a caravan,
they assemble in hundreds on the side of a hill, and sit

tiently with their matchlocks in their hands watchin
its approach.” It was through this pass that the Bri-
tish troops marched from Peshawur to Jellalabad.
The same writer says: “The Khyberees are lean, but
muscular men, with long gaunt faces, high noses and
cheek-bones, and black complexions. They wear, in
winter at least, dark blue turbans, and long dark blue
tunics sitting close to the body, but reaching to the
middle of the leg. They wear neat sandals of straw,
or the leaf of the dwarf palm; carry matchlocks, with
a wooden fork attached to the barrel for a rest, swords,
and short spears; and have altogether an appearance
more strange and uncouth than any other Afghans.
In their valleys they have terraced houses, but in the
mountains, which they chiefly inhabit in summer, they
have moveable huts of mat. They come down into
the low hills in winter, where they chiefly live in caves
cut out of the earthy as of the hills. They are ex-
tremely impatient of heat. They are excellent marks-
men, and are reckoned good hill soldiers, though of no
great account in the plain.” Mr. Elphinstone adds
that they are the greatest robbers in Afghanistan, are
utterly destitute of faith or sense of honour, and are
never employed as escorts. When in the field they
bk plunder the baggage of the army to which they

elong.

The town of Jellalabad may be seen from the top of
a mountain-pass forty miles distant. It is situated in
a plain about twelve or fifteen miles broad, and sur-
rounded with lofty mountains on either side. There
are mountains covered with snow to the north and
south of the town, which run parallel to one another.
The Caboul river, which is here about one. hundred
and fifty yards wide, and is not fordable, passes about
a quarter of a mile north of the town. In summer the
heat is almost intolerable, and the winds are occasionally
so pestilential as sometimes to cause the death of persons
exposed to them. Sir Alexander Burnes describes
Jellalabad “as one of the filthiest places” he had
seen in the East. It is a small place, with a permanent
population of about two thousand people; but in
winter it is crowded by ten times this number, who
come from the hills. The bazaar contains about fifty
shops. The country is subject to earthquakes ;
many shocks were experienced at Jellalabad during
the present year, and the fortifications which were
erecting for the purpose of strengthening the place
were extensively injured. A large British force 1s
now stationed at Jelialabad, but whether it is intended
to be withdrawn or to be directed towards Caboul
is not at present known in this country. When the
force at Caboul was annihilated, the position of the
garrison at Jellalabad became very hazardous, as it
was cut off from its supplies, and surrounded by
enemies ; but from this situation it was relieved by
the arrival of additional troops, who made their way
through the Kbyber Pass.

1842]

In passing from Jellalabad to Caboul the first place
which is reached is Bala-bagh, near which, lying
under the snowy mountains, are the rich gardens that
produce the seedless pomegranates that are exported
to India. At Gundamuck, some miles farther, is the
boundary of the hot and cold countries; and snow is
said to fall on one side of the rivulet while it rains on
the other. Although the distance from Jellalabad is
only twenty-five miles, the wheat is only three inches
above the ground when the harvest at Jellalabad has
already commenced. The air is keen, and the forms
of vegetable life present a wide contrast. Jugduluk
is the next place reached, and is described by Burnes
as “a wiciched place, with a few caves for a village.”
The city of Caboul becomes visible from the head of
the pass of Luta-bund, a distance of twenty-five miles.
The pass is about six miles long, and the road is
covered with loose round stones.

There are three principal commercial routes into
Afghanistan for British goods, which are brought
either to Bombay or Calcutta, but in a greater pro-
portion to the former place. The caravans from each
place concentrate in the city of Caboul. The merchants
from Bengal reach Caboul by the route of the Ganges,
Delhi, Hansce, Bhawulpoor, Mooltan, and cross the
Indus at the ferry of Kaherce, above 31° north latitude,
and thence proceed to Ghiznce, which is about ninety
miles from Caboul. The Bombay caravan joins this
route at Bhawulpoor. Merchandize from Bombay is
also shipped for Kurachee, in Sinde, distant eighteen
marches trom Candahar, and is transported thence to
Ghizneec. Goods on this line which are not disposed of
on the route, or wiich are not intended for the Bokhara
market, are sent to Herat. The route through Sinde
to Shikarpoor, not far from the western bank of the
Indus, is not much frequented, on account of its inse-
curity. When Sir Alexander Burnes gave these de-
tails, the great road from India through Attok and
Peshawur to Caboul was deserted in consequence of
the heavy duties which the ruler of the Punjab levied
on merchandize passing through his territories; and
Peshawur, at the eastern extremity of Afghanistan,
was at that time supplied with European and Indian
commodities from Caboul. The Lohances, a pastoral
tribe of Afghans, who occupy the country eastward
from Ghiznee to the Indus, are the principal carriers
of this trade between India and Caboul. Many of
them are wealthy, and are in the habit of making their
purchases in person in the Indian markets. On their
return they are met by their flocks and families on the
banks of the Indus, and their merchandize is conveyed
to Ghiznee by easy marches on their own camels.
After disposing of their goods at Caboul, they proceed
to Bokhara. Burnes suggested that the establishment
of fairs in imitation of the Russians would contribute
to the extension of British commerce in the countries
of Central Asia, and the Lohaneces would prove valu-
able auxiliaries in the attainment of this object.
Bokhara, for example, is a central mart in which the
merchant may exchange with advantage the produc-
tions of China, Persia, India, and Caboul. It is sup-
plied both with Russian and English goods, but the
taste is decidedly in favour of the latter, and the Rus-
sians are compelled to supply many articles of British
manufacture. The extent of her inland navigation
enables Russia to transport goods by water-carriage to
the confines of Asia, and the trade in all weighty com-
modities will be necessgrily engrossed by her; but
the cheapness of our manutactured stuffs gives us an
advantage in this distant commercial rivalry; and
the Ganges and the Indus offer facilities scarcely in-
ferior to those of the Volga. Sir Alexander Burnes,
in his ‘ Travels in Bokhara,’ mentions a remark-

THE PENNY MAGAZINE. . 36°3

that British manufactures may be circulated in the
remctest parts of Central Asia to an extent which is
not generally suspected. The case alluded to was
that of a merchant whom Sir Alexander met on the
banks of the Caspian with an investment of China
sugar-candy, a bulky and not very valuable commo-
dity. It had been brought from China to Bombay,
a from thence to Bushire in the Persian Gulf,
and then sent inland to Tehran and the banks of the
Caspian, where it was a third time embarked; and
after being relanded at Oka, ten days’ journey from
Khiva, it would be transported by hired camels be-
longing to the Toorkmans across the desert to that
place, and there it would mcet the sugar of the British
West Indies brought by the Russians, thus bringing
the productions of America and: China into compe-
tition in the centre of Asia. If the reader will take
the trouble to trace the route from China to Khiva on
the map, the instance here recorded will certainly
strike him as a singular proof of mercantile persc-
verance and enterprise.

ON COSMORAMAS, DIORAMAS, AND
PANORAMAS.

THERE are seycral curious and instructive points in-
volved in the process of deception whereby a flat
pointed surface is made to represent existing objects.
hen we look at a well-painted picture, bordered with
a frame and hanging upat the side ofa room, we do
not mistake the object at which we are looking, because
there are certain accessories at hand which can only
pertain to it as a picturé ; but if these acccssorics are
removed, the mind is more and more prone to be
deceived in proportion as the artist is skilful. If the
perspective be accurate, if the colours of the objects
represented correspond with those observed in nature,
if the grouping and general arrangement be natural,
and if attention be paid to the modifying tint which
results from the state of the ainiospliere at different
times of the day, the cye will be affected, and through
it the mind, nearly in the same way as by the original
objects themselves. But in order that this effect may
be wrought, the eye must not be distracted by other
objects which can only belong tp the picture and not
to the original.
« Within the last few years many attempts have been
successfully made to produce the effect here indicated,
by removing from the picture all which could tend to
dispel the illusion under which the senses lie. The
two words Diorama and Panorama are representatives
of two of the most successful and pleasing of these
methods; but there is another, the Cin which
may be first noticed, as it depends on a principle some-
what different from the others. Dr. Arnott, speaking
of the illusive optical effects of pictures, remarks:
“Common paintings and prints may be considered as
parts of a.panoramic representation, showing as much
of that general field of view which always: surrounds
a spectator, a3 can be seen by the eye turned in one
direction, and looking through a window or other
opening. The pleasure from contemplating these is
much increased by using a lens.” After describing
the usc of such a lens in the optical toy called the
‘diagonal mirror,’ and in the common ‘puppet-show’
of the streets, he proceeds :—“ A still more perfect
contrivance of the same kind has been exhibited for
some time in London and Paris under the title of
Cosmorama (from Greek words signifying views of

the world, because of the great variety of views.

Pictures of moderate size are placed beyond what have
the appearance of cominon windows, but of which the
panes are really large convex lenses fitted to correct

able instance of commercial energy, which shows, the errors of appearance which the ees of the
3A 2

364

pictures would else produce. Then by using further
subordinate contrivances calculated to aid and heighten
the effects, even shrewd judges have becn led to
suppose the small pictures behind the glasses to be
very large pictures, while all others have Ict their
eyes dwell upon them with admiration, as magical
realizations of the natural scenes and objects. Because
this contrivance 1s cheap and simple, many persons
affect to despise it} but they do not thereby show their
wisdom ; for to have made so perfect a representation
of objects is one of the most sublime triumphs of art,
whether we regard the pictures drawn in such true
gag labels and colouring, or the lenses which assist
he eye in examining them.”

From the details above given it appears that the
effect is principally due to the magnifying power of
the lens, by which the picture is made to appear very
much larger than it really is. But this same effect is
obtainable in a considerable degree without a glass by
making the pictures very large and placing them at
a corresponding distance. The exhibition of the Dro-
rama is, in some respects, merely a large painting

repared in accordance with this principle ; and were
it not that the Diorama can be seen by many persons
at a time, and with much ease to the spectators, the
principle involved does not possess much advantage
over the Cosmorama. The convenient arrangement
of the spectators, however, and the masterly skill of
the painters, caused the Diorama to be universall
admired on its introduction twenty years ago, and,
indeed, from that time to the prescnt.

The arrangement is somewhat as follows :—Let the
reader conceive & circular room or rotunda, about
forty feet in diameter, with two square openings or
windows communicating with two rooms. At the

farther end of each room, opposite to the opening, is a

very large fe and the ceiling is provided with
windows or
rangement.
capable of rotating horizontally round its centre ; it is
nearly equal in ‘iiamater to the outer one, but has
only ove opening instead of two. The ground of the
inner rotunda is occupied by tiers of gradually rising
scats for the spectators; and no light can gain admis-
sion but that which passes through the single aper-
ture or window. The consequence of this arrangement
is, that when the opening in the inncr rotunda coin-
cides with one of those in the outer one, the spectator
can se¢ the picture at the farther end of the open room ;
but when the inner rotunda is so far turned as to bring
its aperture away from both those in the outer rotunda,
all is in darkness. Hence the spectator is allowed to
sec One picture, and then to sec the other picture, by the
platform on which he stands or sits being made to rotate.
This being the adjustment of parts, the whole illu-
sive effect depends on the position and character of the
picture-room. The cciling, floor, and sides of this
room are so managed as to be entirely hidden from the
spectator, who, on looking through the opening, can
sce nothing whatever but the picture, which, really
about thirty or forty fect distant, appears to be the
object represented. The spectator being himself nearly
in darkness, and light being thrown on the picture in
a decided manner, produces an effect very different
from that observed in ordinary pictures; and as the
shutters of the ee are so arranged as to diminish
or increase the admitted light at pleasure, the change
from ordinary daylight to sunshine, or from sunshine
to cloudy weather, or the obscurity of twilight, or the
various modifications of atmospheric colouring, may be
imitated with great success. But in addition to these
effects, others have been produced by making some
pe of the painting transparent, and throwing on
rom behind various kinds and intensities and colours

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

ights susceptible of much change in ar-|
fithin the rotunda is a smaller rotunda

[SepremBER 17,

of light; and when these two classes of effects are
combined, viz., those resulting from reflected light
and those from transmitted light, scenes of extraordi-
ney illusion are often produced.

urning our attention next to Panoramas, we find
the illusion to depend on a somewhat different prin-
ciple. In this case the picture occupies the interior
surface of a hollow cylinder, while the spectator takes
up his station on a detached circular platform, covered
overhead to conceal the skylight, and thus removes
what would else dispel the illusion. The painter is
supposed to have placed himself in the centre of a
building, or of a city or country, and to have sketched
the entire scene around him in all directions, which he
afterwards transfers to the walls of the circular build-
ing. Here, however, great difficulties lie in the way;
for the representations of straight horizontal lines on a
curved surface, the absence of a fixed ‘ point of sight,
and the impossibility of lighting every part of the
circuit equably, especially when the sun is shining
strongly towards one part of the picture, call for con-
siderable tact and judgment.

Panoramic pictures are said to have been first de-
vised by Barker about half a century ago; and Mr.
Burford has of late years produced panoramas which
have gratified artists and connoisscurs as much as
mere sight-seers, perhaps more so. The panoramas
exhibited in Leicester Square within the last ten or
twelve years have mostly related to celebrated cities,
or to districts rendered notable by permanent or tem-
pao association. Among these have been Rome,

amascus, Acre, Lima, Jerusalem, Bombay, Stirling,
the Sicge of Antwerp, the Cemetery of Pére la Chaise
at Paris, the Arctic Region of Boothia, &c.

But perhaps the most extraordinary panorama ever
painted is that of London, forming the main part of
the exhibition of the Colosseum, in the Regent’s Park.
Here we have a picture covering no less an area than
forty thousand square feet of canvas, representing the
immense world of London as seen from the outer gal-
lerics of St. Paul’s Cathedral. When the upper part
of the cathedral was being repaired somc ycars ago,
Mr. Hornor caused a little cabin to be constructed on
the very summit, where he took up his station, and
made the sketches from which the painting was after-

j wards executed. The perilous nature of this enter-

prise threw an air of romance over the whole affair,
and excited much attention at the time. As the view
of London from St. Paul’s is more or less extensive
according as the spectator is stationed in the gallery
below the dome, in the upper gallery, or near the
summit: so did the artist contrive to give three. varia-
tions to the effect of his gigantie picture, by causing a
central tower to be built up in the exhibition-room,
with galleries at three different heights. Spectators
were elevated to these galleries by ingenious mecha-
nism, and then viewed the picture under different
aspects, aselan- to the gallery which they occupied.
The béundary of the visible horizon represented on
the picture is nearly a hundred and thirty miles in
circumference; and so minute is the pictorial execu-
tion, that magnifying-glasses are provided for the
spectator to view the distant objects, just as in the
distant contemplation of a natural view. Here, as in
the case of the Diorama, an attentive observer will see
that everything is removed which can tend to break
the spell, to dispel the illusion, under which the senses
temporarily lic; we are nof permitted to see the top
of the picture, nor the bottom of the picture, nor the
floor of the great rotunda, nor the skylights; nor are
any objects allowed to intervene between the spectator
and the painted wall. We have therefore no standard
with which to compare the picture, and thus it ccases
to appear like a picture.

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THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 365

(Coventry Pageants.)

COVENTRY MYSTERIES.

Tue Miracle Plays of England, whose well-authenti-
cated antiquity extends as far back ds the early part of
the twelfth century, formed ho doubt the foundation
of the present English Drama. Though rude in con-
ception, and intended to promote religious feelings in
at least an equal degree with amusement among the
people, the delight felt by the spectators in the visible
representation of events, the approbation with which
temporal events, existing manners, atid human cha-
racters and ei were received, as by degrees they
were gradually introduced, produced a taste for the-
atrical representation, which had probably reached its
height about the period when the greatest dramatist
of this or any other country arose to gratify their
wants by developing with the most consummate art
and the highest ability the capabilities of the drama.
These early plays or a are therefore objects of
legitimate curiosity, and we purpose to give a short
account of the most complete aining collection
of them, the ‘ Ludus Coventria,” or Coventry Plays,
(of which the MS. is in the’ British Museum, and is at
least as old as the reign of Henry VII.,) for which we
are indebted to the ‘Penny Cyclopedia.’ These plays,
we may add, were performed to as late a period
as 1591.

The best idea of the groundwork of these goes
is to be obtained by specifying the subjects of the

Coventry series, which comprises forty-two plays,
viz.:—l. ‘The Creation.’ 2. ‘The Fall of Man.’
3. ‘The Death of Abel.’ 4. ‘ Noah’s Flood.’ 5.
‘ Abraham’s Sacrifice.’ 6. ‘Moses and the Two Ta-
bles.” 7. ‘The Genealogy of Christ.” 8. ‘Anna's
Pregnancy.’ 9. ‘Mary in the Temple.’ 10. ‘Mary's
Betrothment.’ 11. ‘The Salutation and Conception.
12. ‘Joseph’s Return.’ 13. ‘The Visit to Eliza-
beth.’ 14. ‘The Trial of Joseph and Mary.’ 15. * The
Birth of Christ.’ 16. ‘ The Shepherds’ Offering. 17.
py scene in the MS.) 18. ‘Adoration of the Magi.
9. ¢The Purification.’ 20. ‘Slaughter of the n-
nocents.’ 21. ‘Christ disputing in the Temple.’
22. «The Baptism of Christ.’ 23. * The Temptation.’
24. ‘The Woman taken in Adultery. 25. ‘ Lazarus.’
26. ‘Council of the Jews.’ 27. ‘Mary Magdalen.
28. ‘Christ Betrayed.’ 29. ‘Ilerod.’ 30. ‘The Trial of
Christ.’ 31. ‘ Pilate’s Wife’s Dream.’ 32. ‘ The Cru-
cifixion. 33. ‘Christ’s Descent into Hell.’ 34.
‘Sealing of the Tomb.’ 35. ‘The Resurrection. 36.
‘The Three Marys.’ 37. ‘Christ appearing to Mary
Magdalen.’ 38. ‘The Pilgrimof Emmaus.’ 39.‘ The
Ascension.’ 40. ‘lescent of the Holy Ghost.’ 41.
‘The Assumption of the Virgin.’ 42. ‘ Doomsday.
There is abundant evidence that the Romish eccle-
siastics, in their first introduction of this kind of repre-
sentations, especially that part of them relating to the
birth, passion, and resurrection of Christ, had the

r
|

366 THE PENNY
perfectly serious intention of strengthening the faith
of the multitude in the fundamental doctrines of their
church ; and it seems the less extraordinary that they
should have resorted to this expedient, when we reflect
that before the invention of printing, books had no
existence for the people at large. But it is no less
certain that the repetition of these exhibitions raprlly
worked upon the popular mind an effect which, it is
likely, the priestly dramatists themselves had not con-
templated in the first instance: it developed the
universally latent passion in the breast of social man
for spectacle in general, and for dramatic spectacle
especially, for tts own sake. Here, again, was the’
strongest encouragement of all for the clergy to per-
severe in their dramatic efforts. Finding the lively

leasure which the peuple took in this mode of recciv-
ing religious instruction, they attempted to add,
according to their barbarous ability, embellishment
after embellishment to the simple copies which they
had originally presented of the most remarkable
passages of Scripture story, until the profane exhibi-
tion itself, ‘the miracle play,’ and not the sacred sub-
ject of it, became the sole object of interest to the
people who composed the audience at these represen-
tations, as, also, 1t certainly became the primary object
of the greater part of the ecclesiastics who took part
in getting them up. These two facts are shown with
the utmost clearness by the collective testimony of all
the contemporary writers who have thrown a general
light upon the manners of the later middle ages.

These considerations will sufficiently account for one
remarkable contrast, amongst others, which the carly
drama of modern Europe lpia to the early Greek
drama, though both flowed directly from a religious
source ; that while in the latter a groundwork drawn
from human history was adorned and elevated by
mythological intermixtures ; in the middle-age drama,
on the contrary, the basis or substratum was religious,
but soon became so much overlaid with allusions to
actual life, and with sketches of manners, and even of
character, drawn from the actual society, as to leave
scarcely a trace of that solemnity which must in the
beginning have .been intended to characterize the
performance. The proclamation of the Chester plays,
which was read over in various parts of the city on ge
George’s day, before the commencement of the per-
formances, expressly excuses the introduction of “some
things not warranted by any writ,” on the ground that
it was done “to make sport” and to “glad the hearers.”
The dialogue in these productions was, for the most
part, extremely rude and inartificial ; and as to plot,
they cannot properly be said to have had any. It is
not until the middle of the sixteenth century that we
arrive at a scriptural play having anything approach-
ing to a regularly constructed dramatic action. In
this respect the series of plays which we have been
considering should rather be described as a serics of
shows or pageants exhibited in succession, but without
any artificial connection. Each of these detached
divisions of the representation was indeed commonly
called a “ pageant;” and each succeeding play or
pageant of the series was supported by a new set of
performers. Thus, to get up one of these extensive
scts of plays, it wa3 necessary to provide and prepare
a large number of actors; and here we see one mani-
fest reason why this longer class of performances was
almost wholly confined, in England as well as on the
Continent, to the larger cities.

lhe seasons for exhibiting the grand scriptural plays
were chiefly the Christmas and the Whitsun holidays.
The getting up and acting of these in the great cities
early devolved upon the trading companics, each guild
undertaking a portion of the performance and sustain-
Ing a share of the expense. The authentic information

MAGAZINE. (Serrzwner 17,
regarding the exhibition of the Corpus Christi plays
at Coventry extends from the year 1416 to 159], dur-
ing the whole of which period there is no indication
that the clergy in any way co-operated. The pieces
were acted on temporary erections of timber, called
scaffolds or stages, and it appears that in some instances
they were placed upon wheels, in order that they might
be removed from one part to another of a large town,
and so the plays might be repeated successively in
various quarters. Some of the Chester pieces required
the employment of two, and even of three scaffolds,
besides other contrivances: the street also must have
been used, as several of the characters enter and go
out on horscback. The same remark is applicable
both to the Widkirk and the Coventry plays. In the
latter, indeed, “the place’ and “the mid place” are
mentfoned as the scene of part of the action; and it is
evident from some of the stage dircctions, that two,
three, and even four scaffolds were erected round a
centre, the performers procceding, as occasion required,
from one stage to another across ‘the mid place.”

We will now add the following vivid description of
the performance of one of these plays, giving at the
same time a more distinct notion of the manner in
which the subjects were treated, from Mr. C. Knight’s
‘William Shakspere: a Biography :’—

The morning of Corpus Christi comes, and soon
after sunrise there is stir in the strects of Coventry.
The old ordinances for this solemnity require that the
Guilds should be at their posts at five o’clock. There
is to be a solemn _ procession—formerly, indeed, after
the performance of the pageant—and then, with hun-
dreds of torches burning around the figures of our
Lady and St. John, candlesticks and chalices of silver,
banners of velvet and canopies of silk, and the mem-
bers of the Trinity Guild and the Corpus Christi Guild
bearing their crucifixes and candlesticks, with person-
ations of the angel Gabriel lifting up the ny. the
twelve apostles, and renowned virgins, especially St.
Catherine and St. Margaret. The Reformation has,
of course, destroyed much of this ceremonial ; and,
indeed, the spirit of it has in great part evaporated.
But now, issuing from the many ways that lead to the
Cross, there is heard the melody of harpers and the
voice of minstrelsy; trumpets sound, banners wave,
riding-inen come thick from their several halls; the
mayor and aldermen in their robes, the city servants
in proper liveries, St. George and the Dragon, and
Herod on horseback. The bells ring, boughs are
strewed in the streets, tapestry is hung out of the win-
dows, officers in scarlet coats struggle in the crowd
while the procession is marshalling. The crafts are
getting into their ancient order, cach craft with its
streamers and its men in harness. There are ‘ Fysshers
and Cokes,—Baxters and Milners,—Bochers,—Whit-
tawers, and Glovers,—Pynners, Tylers, and Wrightes,
—Skynners, — Barkers,— Corvysers,— Smythes,— We-
vers,— Wirdrawers, — Cardemakers, Sadelers, Peyn-
tours and Masons,—Gurdclers,—Taylours, Walkers,
and Sherman,—Deysters,—Drapers,—Mercers.’* At
length the procession is arranged. It parades through
the principal lines of the city, from Bishopgate on the
north to the Grey Friars’ Gate on the south, and from
Broadgate on the west to Gosford Gate on the east.
The crowd is thronging to the wide area on the north
of Trinity Church and St. Michael's, for there is the
paseant to be first‘performed. There was a high

ouse or carriage which stood upon six wheels; it is
divided into two rooms, one above the other. In the
lower room were the performers; the upper was the
stage. This ponderous vehicle was painted and gilt,
surmounted with burnished vanes and streamers, and
decorated with imagery; it was hung round with cur-

* Sharp's ‘ Dissertation,’ page 160.

sos

18 !2.]

tains, and a painted cloth presented a picture of the
subject that was to be performed. This simple stage
had its machinery, too; it was fitted for the represen-
tation of an carthquake or a storm; and the pageant
in most cases was concluded in the noise and flame of
fireworks. It is the pageant of the company of Shear-
men and Tailors which is now to be performed,—the
subject, the Birth of Christ and Offering of the Magi,
with the Flight into Egypt and Murder of the Inno-
cents. The cager multitudes are permitted to crowd
within a reasonable distance of the car. There isa
moveable scaffold erccted for the more distinguished
spectators. The men of the Guilds sit firm on their
horses. Amidst the sound of harp and trumpet the
curtains are withdrawn, and Isaiah appears, prophesy-
ing the blessing which is to come upon the earth:
Gabriel announces to Mary the embassage upon which
he is sent from Heaven. Then a dialogue between
Mary and Joseph, and the scene changes to the field
where shepherds are abiding in the darkness of the
night—a night so dark that they know not where their
sheep may be; they are cold and in great heaviness,
Then the star shines, and they hear the song of ‘ Gloria
in excelsis Deo.’ A soft melody of concealed music
hushes even the whispers of the Coventry audience ;
and three songs are sung, such as may abide in the
remembrance of the people, and be repeated by them
at their Christmas festivals. ‘The first the shepherds
sing :—
“As I rode ont this endcrs® night,

Of three jolly shepherds I saw a sight,

And all about their fold! a star shone bright ;

They sang terly, terlow :

So merrily the shepherds their pipes can blow.”

There is then a song ‘the women sing ’—

* Lully, lulla, you little tiny child;
By, by, lully, lullay, you little tiny child:
By, by, lully, lullay.

O sisters two, how may we do

For to preserve this day
This poor youngling, fur whom we do siug
By, by, lully, lullay ?

Hered the king, in his raging,
Charged he hath this day

His men of might, in his own sight,
All young children to slay.

That woe is me, poor child, for thee,
And ever mourn aud say,

For thy parting neither say nor sing
By, by, lully, lullay.”

The shepherds again take up the song :—

* Down from heaven, from heaven so high,
Of angels there came a great comieny
With mirth, and joy, and great solemnity :
They sang terly, terlow :
So merrily the shepherds their pipes can blow.”

The simple melody of these songs has come down to
us; they are part songs, cach having the treble, the
tenor, and the bass.t The star conducts the shepherds
to the ‘crib of poor repast,’ where the child lies; and
With a simplicity which is highly characteristic, one
presents the child his pipe, the second his hat,
and the third his mittens. Prophets now come, who
declare in lengthened rhyme the wonder and the
blessing :—

* Enders nght—last night.

¢ This very curious Pageant, essentially differeut from the
game portion of Scripture-history in the ‘ Ledus Coventria,' is
printed entire in Mr. Sharp's ‘ Dissertation,’ as well as the score
of these songs.

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

367
“ Neither in halls nor yet in bowers
Bom would he not be,
Neither in castles nor yet in towers
That seemly were to see.”
The messenger of Herod succeeds ; and very curious

it is, and characteristic of a period when the king’s
laws were delivered in the language of the Conqueror,
that he speaks in French. This circumstance would
carry back the date of the play to the reign of Edward
IlI., though the language is occasionally modernized.
We have then the three kings with their gifts. They
are brought before Herod, who treats them courteously,
but is inexorable in his cruel decree. Herod rages mn
the streets ; but the flight into Ezypt takes place, and
then the massacre. The address of the women to the
pitiless soldiers, imploring, defying, is not the least
curious part of the performance; for example—

“ Sir knightes, of your courtesy,
This day shame not your chivalry,
But on my child have pity,”

is the mild address of one mother. Another raves—

“ He that slays my child in sight,
If that my strokes on him may light,
Be he squire or knight,
I hold him but lost.”

The fury of a third is more excessive ==

“Sit he nevcr so high in saddle,
But I shall make his brains addle,
Aud here with my pot ladle
With him will I fight.” |

We have little doubt that he who described the horrors
of a siege,—
“ Whiles the mad mothers with their howls confused

Do break the clouds, as did the wives of Jewry
At Herod's bloody-hunting slaughtermen,’*—

had heard the howlings of the women in the Coventry
pageant. And so ‘fynes lude de taylars and scharmen.’

The pageants thus performed by the Guilds of Co-
ventry were of various subjects, but all scriptural.
The Siniths’ pageant was the Crucifixion ; and most
curious are their accounts, from 1449 till the time of
which we are speaking, for expenses of helmets for
Herod and cloaks for Pilate; of tabards for Caiaphas
and gear for Pilate’s wife; of a staff for the Demon,
and a beard for Judas. There are payments, too, toa
man for hanging Judas and for cock-crowing. The
subject of the Cappers’ pageant was the Resurrection.
ee | have charges for making the play-book and
pricking the songs; for money spent at the first
rehearsal and the second rehearsal ; for supper on the
play day, for breakfasts and for dinners. The subject
of the Drapers’ pageant was that of Doomsday; and
one of their articles of machinery sufficiently explains ©
the character of their performance—‘ A link to set the
werld on fire,’ following ‘Paid for the barrel for the
earthquake.’ We may readily believe that the time
was fast approaching when such pageants would no
longer be ‘clerated. It is more than probable that the
performances of the Guilds were originally subordi-
nate to those of the Grey Friars; perhaps devised and
supported by the parochial clergy.t But when the
Church became opposed to such representations—
when, indeed, they were incompatible with the spirit
of the age—it is clear that the efforts of the laity to
uphold them could not long be successful. They

* Henry V., Act 111, Scene 111.

¢ It istclear, we think, that the pagcants performed by the
Guilds were altogether different from the ‘ Ludus Coventriz,'
which Dugdale expressly tells us were performed by the Grey
Friars.

368 THE PENNY

would be certainly performed without the reverence
which once belonged to them. Their rude action and
simple language would be ridiculed; and when the
feeling of ridicule crept in, their nature would be
altered, and they would become essentially profane.”

ON RIVERS, GEOGRAPHICALLY CON-
SIDERED.
(Continued from page 360.)

Tue rivers which drain the countries between 30° N.
latitude and those in which the mean temperature of
the winter season docs not rise above 30°, are subject
to occasional inundations, But these overflowings
occur only in those rivers whose upper course les
within mountain-ranges which are covered with snow
for a considerable part of the year. In such cases,
while the snow covers the more elevated portion of
the mountain-ranges, a sudden change in the wea-
ther, which produces a warm wind, brings great vo-
lumes of vapours, which, falling in abundant rain,
soon dissolve the snow, and the mountain-streams
pour down their waters with increased volume and
velocity. As soon as the waters reach a level tract, it
is inundated. As these inundations often take place
unexpectedly, they cause great damage. Thus we
find that some valleys in the Ozark Mountains, in the
United States of America, are almost uninhabitable,
owing to the sudden inundations to which the rivers
of that mountain-region are subject. Many rivers,
however, never inundate the adjacent country, unless
a heavy gale of wind should blow directly up the
river, and drive the sea into it with great force. Such
inundations are very sudden, and sometimes also ex-
tensive, but they are of short duration.

In adverting to the advantages which a country
derives from its rivers, we must first observe that the
water is extensively used for the purposes of domestic
economy. It is much purer than that of wells; for,
with the exception of a few which are salt or brackish,
river water contains only earthy particles in suspen-
sion, which may easily be separated by filtration, and
which are deposited as a sediment when the water is
left to stand for a short time. The water of wells ge-
nerally contains a small quantity of some mineral in
chemical combination. The water of rivers is nearly
equal to rain water for all domestic purposes. Rivers
accordingly supply water for the consumption of large
cilies, as in the case of the New River, which supplies
a large part of London, and the Schuylkill, which sup-
plies Philadelphia. Many rivers also supply abun-
dance of food. The upper courses of rivers are gene-
rally inhabited by a small number of species of fish,
and the whole amount is not great. But towards
their mouths the number both of specics and indi-
viduals increases. The importance of a river fishery
may be estimated when we consider the quantity of
salmon which is taken in the rivers of Britain, or of
the beluga and sturgeon which are caught in the
neighbourhood of Astrakhan. Many rivers, which are
not adapted to the purposes of navigation, are con-
verted into,powerful instruments for assisting the in-
peated of acountry by the moving-power which they
supply for mills and other heavy machinery. The
advantage of such a natural moving-power primarily
determines the seat of manufactures, as was the casc
in South Lancashire, where this advantage is combined
with abundance of coal. The Atlantic states of North
America are generally provided with abundance of
streains, a circumstance which favours the establish-
ment of manufactures. :

The greatest advantages, however, which a country
derives from its rivers are the facilities which they
supply for conveying the produce of agriculture and

MAGAZINE. [SerremBer 17,
of manufacturing industry to distant parts at a mode-
rate expense. In this respect the rivers may be coin-
pared to the arteries and veins of the human body,
which diffuse life and strength through all parts. Na-
vigable rivers vivify, maintain, and excite the efforts
of human industry. In many countries, where roads
are neglected, it is estimated that the transport of
goods by land is four times as expensive as that by
means of navigable rivers, and thus many heavy and
bulky commodities could not be brought to market
but for the cheap conveyance of rivers. In consider-
ing the capacity of a river for navigation, two cir-
cumstances mainly oye notice—how far seafaring
vessels may ascend, and how far the river is navigable
for river boats.

Seafaring vesscls can ascend many rivers as far as
the tides extend. Indeed some rivers, as the Ama-
zonas, may be navigated by large vessels to a much
greater distance than the tide ascends, but in others
the waters become shallow long before the limit of
tide-water is reached. Still high tides facilitate the
navigation of rivers by large vessels, not only by pro-
ducing a current contrary to that of the river, but also
by temporarily increasing the depth of water, so that
vessels can pass over shallows and sandbanks which
at low tides are nearly or quite dry. This is fre-
quently the case in rivers where the tides rise more
than twelve feet. The tides in rivers are not of equal
duration, as is the case in most parts of the sea; but
the ebb tides frequently last twice as long as the flow-
ing tides. At Rotterdam the tide flows for about four
hours and five minutes, but the ebb lasts seven hours
and fifty-five minutes. The Meerwede at Dordrecht
flows against the current of the river for three hours
and fifty-one minutes, and with it eight hours and nine
minutes. This difference is easily explained when
the force of the river current is taken into account.
The same circumstance explains the difference in the
velocity of the ebbing and flowing tide. Between the
North Sca and Hamburgh the flowing tide takes five
minutes to run up a mile, but the ebb tide performs
the same distance in less than four minutes. But it is
difficult to explain the well-established fact that the
tides advance much farther into a river than might be
expected. When the tide at the mouth of a river rises
four feet, we might a ees that it would advance
only to such a point in the river where the surface is
four fect above the sea, but it has been ascertained
that it advances farther. It seems that the volume of
water which is carried up by the tide is pushed on-
wards by the mass behind it, and carried to a greater
distance than the inclination of the river bed would
seem to allow. It has also been observed, that during
the flowing of the tide the surface of the water in the
river presents a somewhat convex form, the water
along the banks being a little lower than in the middle
of the river, and that during the ebb the contrary
takes place. The flowing tide raises the water from
below, and thus sooner affects the main body of the
river, where it has more room to operate, than the
water near the margin. In accordance with this ex-
planation, it is observed that the flowing tide is per-
ceptible in the middle, while it is still ebbing along
the banks, and that vessels which are at anchor near
the banks are turned round before the water on the
surface of the river near the banks begins to flow up-
ward. [To be continued.)

Bears Fishing.—During the height of the fishing season the
salmon are so plentiful in all the rivers and crecks of Kamt-
chatka, that the bears catch them with the greatest ease; and
will then only eat of the heads and backs. The Kamtchiadales
say that a large bear will spoil from twenty-five to thirty fish of
a night. As the season advances, and the fish get scarcer, the
bears become less choice in their food.—Dobell's Kamtchatka

1912.)

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THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

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{The Grey Mullet 7

THE GREY MULLET.

Ons of the angler-poets, whom Walton loved to quote,
says :-—
“I care not, IJ, to fish in seas;
Fresh rivers best my mind do pleas,
Whose sweet calm course I contemplate,
And seek in life to imitate.”

But the grey mullet only ascends and descends rivers
with the flow and ebb of the sea. Away, therefore,
must we go from “the brink of Trent or Ayon,”
where the angler’s pleasure is to sce his

¢ ——_.__. quill or cork down sink
With eager bite of perch, or bleak, or dace.”

The grey mullet haunts the shallow waters on the
coast, never going far from land; and though it ven-
tures up rivers, 1t invariably returns with the tide.
There are six places in Sussex, according to a saying
Pee many centuries old, each of which is cele-

rated for a particular kind of fish; and Arundel, one
of these places, is distinguished for its mullets. The
town js ten miles from the sea; but Mr. Yarrell men-
tions, as a remarkable circumstance, that, in 1834, the
grey mullet was taken ten miles higher up the Arun,
at Bambergh Castle, which is twenty miles from the
sea. Walton does not once mention having angled for
the grey mullet, but had he done so, the sport would
have called into exercise al] his skill and all his pati-
ence; for so careful is it not to swallow any large or
hard substance, that it has a trick of getting the bait
into its mouth and of rejecting it if suspicion be at all
excited. Even if hooked, it is often only in the lips,

and it then plunges with much violence, and often |rell’s valuable work on ‘British Fishes.’ “

No. 672.

effects its escape. The grey mullet spawns about
Midsummer. e general colour of the adult is a
darkish grey, with a tinge of blue, and the sides and
belly, which are white, are marked by dark longitu-
dinal lines. The form of the mouth is very peculiar,
and is thus described by Mr. Yarrell :—* Tie lower
jaw is divided in the middle by an ascending angular
point, which, when the mouth is closed, passes within
the upper jaw; the upper jaw also, if viewed from
below, 1s likewise angular.” Besides the grey mullet
there are two other species, the thick-lipped grey
mullet, which abounds jn considerable numbers on the
coast of Cornwall, and another, of which Mr. Yarrell
caught a specimen at the mouth of Poole harbour,
which is remarkable for the shortness of its form.
Cuvier remarked that the species of European mullets
had probably not been weli ascertained. The mullet
for which the Romans gave such extravagant pices
for their entertainments, is altogether a different
species.

By experiments which have been made for ascer-
taining whether salt-water fish could be kept in ponds
of fresh-water, it has been found that the grey mullet
has actually improved. Some fry were oe into a

ond of three acres in Guernsey, when about three
inches in length, and in four years they weighed four
pounds, and were “ fatter, deeper, and heavier than
those obtained from the sea.” |

Mr. Couch, a Cornish gentleman, who has paid
great attention to the habits of fish on the shores of the
county in which he resides, communicated some inter-
esting facts respecting the grey mullet for Mr ar-

= Vou. XI.—3 B

370 THE PENNY
enclosed within a ground-sean or sweep-net, as soon
as the danger is seen, and before the limits of its range
are straitened, and when even the end of the net might
be passed, it is its common habit to prefer the shorter
course, and throw itself over the head-lines and so
escape; and when one of the company passes, all
immediately follow.” Mr. Couch adds :—* This dis-
position is so innate in the grey mullet, that young
ones of minute size may be seen tumbling themselves
head over tail in their active exertions to pass the
head-line. I have even known a mullet less than an
inch in length throw itself repeatedly over the side of
a cup in which the water was an inch below the brim.”
But when a solitary fish has been left in the net, and
all means of escape are prevented, the same accurate
observer relates that it will then make a desperate
effort to pass through one of the meshes, rctiring pre-
viously to the greatest possible distance, and then
rushing at once towards that part of the net which
appears to offer the most inviting chance of escape;
when it finds itself held by the middle, it a ie
quietly submits to its fate. Carew, the Cornish histo-
rian, kept some grey mullet in a salt-water pond,
which became so tame, that they would assemble toge-
ther at a certain noise which he was accustomed to
make.

DECIMAL DIVISION OF THE COINAGE.

TuHose who are unaccustomed to the use of decimal
arithmetic are scarcely aware of the vast waste of time
entailed in commercial calculations by the want of a
decimal subdivision of the coinage, in the place of the
system now acted on. The subject was slightly touched
upon in an article on the ‘Simplification of Arithme-
tical] Rules,’ in our second volume; but in the nine
baer which have since elapsed, various plans have
ecn proposed, which merit a little of our attention.

In all decimal arrangements, each term in a quan-
tity is ten times as great as the term next below it, so
that all the terms form a series increasing bya regular
law. But in the common English coinage, or in ino-
netary accounts, we use four terms or denominations
differmg materially in their rate of increase. Our
largest denomination or unit is the pound sterling;
then the next is a twentieth part of this, viz. the shil-
ling ; the third in the series is a twelfth of the shilling ;
and the penny, the twelfth thus obtained, is divided
into four parts to obtain the lowest denomination, or
farthing; hence we have three rates of increase, ac-
cording as the multipliers or divisors are 20, 12, or 4.
The complexity is shown most when we have to mul-
tiply a sum of money by any number. Suppose, for in-
stance, that we purchase twenty-five articles, at ]/. 2s. 6d.
each; we have first to multiply the pence by 25, and
find how many shillings aad remaining pence there
are; then to multiply the shillings by 25, adding there-
to the shillings derived from the previous multiplica-
tion; and, lastly, to multiply the pounds by 25, in-
creasing the product by the pounds derived from the
antecedent multiplying. But if the sun of 12. 2s. 6d.
were put in the decimal form £1°125, the problem
would be one of plain multiplication, thus:

£1°125

without the puzzling opcration of reducing from one
denomination to another. If 10 farthings made a penny
(or a coin called by any other name), 10 pence a shil-
ling, and 10 shillings a pound, then the decimally-ex-
pressed quantity £1:125 would be one pound, one
shilling, two pence, and five farthings.

But the great obstacle to any changes of this kind
js the tenacity with which ancient customs are adhered

MAGAZINE. [SErTEMBER 24,
to. That four farthings make a penny, twelve pence a
shilling, and twenty shillings a pound, are truisms so
imbedded into the mind from childhood, that an
attempt to eradicate them will be attended with muc
difficulty. In Francc, when the decimal notation
became introduced in weights and measures, it was
almost a natural consequence that similar changes
should be effected in the coinage. Under the old
ase accounts were kept in livres, sous, and denters,
the livre being equal to twenty sous, and the sou to
twelve deniers; but under the decimal system, the
franc is made nearly equal to the old dtvre, and is
subdivided decimally, so that ten déctmes make a franc,
and ten centtmes make adécime. In the United States,
too, accounts are simplified by expressing sums of
money in “ dollars’ and “ cents” or hundredths of
dollars; thus a sum cqual tu a dollar and three-quarters
(7s. 7d. English) is expressed 1°75. It is not so much
in the actual passage of inoney from hand to hand that
any inconvenience or delay arises under the present
system, as in the computation or keeping of com-
mercial accounts, in which a saving of figures written
or of processes performed is so much time gained.

Mr. Babbage, in the second edition of his ‘ Economy
of Manufactures,’ introduced a chapter on ‘“‘ Money as
a Medium of Exchange,” and therein remarks :—
“ The subdivisions of money vary in different countries,
and much time may be lost by an inconvenient system
of division. The effect is felt in keeping extensive
accounts, and particularly in calculating the interest
on loans or the discount on bills of exchange.” He
then proceeds to ean an opinion, that the decimal
system is the best a ayes to facilitate all such calcu-
lations, and that the abolishing of the guinea, without
having produced any great inconvenience, is a proof
that changes in the coin may be introduced to the
desired extent, provided they be effected with caution.
Mr. Babbage then proposes the following plan :—“ If,
whenever it becomes necessary to call in the half-
crowns, a new coin of the value of two shillings were
issued, which should be called by some name implying
a unit (a prince, for instance), we should have the
tenth part. of a sovereign. A few years after, when
the public were familiar with this coin, it might be
divided into one ‘hundred instead of ninety-six farth-
ings; and it would then consist of twenty-five pence,
each of which would be four per cent. less in value
than the former penny. ‘The shillings and sixpences
being then withdrawn from circulation, their place
might be supplied with silver coins, each with five of
the new pence, and by others of ten-pence, and two-
pence halfpenny; the latter coin, having a distinct
name, would be the tenth part of a prince.” By this
plan, the decimal system might be retained at the
same time as the binary, to which retail dealers are so
much accustomed ; there would be a denomination for
the tenth part of a sovereign, one also for the hun-
dredth part, and one for the thousandth ; these might
soon be brought into requisition in bankers’ and
merchants’ accounts ; while the other coins would be
fitted for those retail dealers who require smaller sub-
multiples than ten.

In the ‘Companion to the British Almanac, for
1841, Professor de Morgan points out a simple and
expeditious mode of converting sums of moncy into
decimal fractions of a pound, or, in other words, ex-
pees money decimally, instead of by the usual
circumlocution of £. s. d. He then adverts to the
possibility of so adjusting the coinage as to enable this
decimal computation to be brought into use in the
common affairs of life. The principle advocated is in
many respects similar to that of Mr. Babbage; but
the propriety of allowing time for one change to

| become established before another is introduced, is

1842.]

insisted on more pointedly. Mr. de Morgan proposes
the introduction of a new coin valued two shillings, to
be called the “ royal,” which is to be issued from the
Mint and brought gradually into circulation, the half-
crowns being melted up as fast as they come to the
Bank or the Mint. By this means the first step would
be made towards a decimal division of the pound
sterling ; and matters might be allowed to rest there
for a few years, till the public became accustomed to
the alteration. Then would be issucd a copper ora
silver or a mixed metal coin valued at two-pence
halfpenny of present money, and which might perhaps
be called a“ groat;” persons would become ac-
customed to this as they have to the half-crown, each
being equal to 2} of some particular coin. This groat
might, in the first instance, be deemed two-pence-
halfpenny of present money, and ultimately as the
tenth of two shillings, or 2,td.; for, as Mr. de Morgan
remarks, this alteration of four per cent. in the value of
a copper coin is not important, since the daily fluctu-
ations in the price of copper amount tomuch more.
We should then have the tenth and the hundredth of a
pound; but pence and halfpence might be left in
circulation till persons were accustomed to the change.
The thousandth of a pound would result from making
a minute change in the size of the present farthing,
since nine hundred and sixty farthings make a pound ;
so that we should then have ten farthings equal to a
groat, ten groats equal to a royal, ten royals aby toa
sovereign. It would be necessary to enact that five
groats should be legal tender for one shilling, and ten
proats for a royal; but Mr. de Morgan thinks this
would produce no practical inconvenience. The ad-
vantages likely to accrue from such a change are thus
enumerated :—All computations would be performed
by the same rules as in the arithmetic of whole
numbers; an extended multiplication table would be
a better interest table than any which has yet been
constructed ; the application of logarithms would be
materially facilitated, and would become uinversal, as
also that of the sliding rule; the number of good com-
mercial computers would soon be many times greater
than at present; all decimal tables, as those of com-
pound interest, &c., would be popular tables, instead
of being mathematical mysteries; and when the
decimal coinage came to be sand Maa established,
the introduction of a decimal system of weights and
measures would be very much facilitated, and its
advantages would be seen.

Still more recently, this subject has been brought
under the notice of the British Association for the
Advancement of Science. At the meeting of the
Association in June last, the Rev. G. Peacocke, Dean
of Ely, communicated the Report of the Commis-
sioners for the restoration of lost standards of weights
and measures, and their proposal for the introduction
of a decimal system. The imperial standards of weight
and measure having been lost in the fire which de-
stroyed the two houses of Parliament, a commission was
appointed to report on the best means of restoring
these standards. That portion of the Report which
relates to weights and measures we necd not consider
here, further than to state that a “ primary unit” of
each kind is recommended to be retained, whatever be
the other approximations towards a decimal system ;
the primary units being the pound sterling, the im-
perial pound, the yard, the acre, and the gallon. With
respect to the coinage, the Commissioners, taking the
pound sterling as the primary unit, popes to intro-
duce a coin of the value of two shillings (one-tenth of
the pound); another, either silver or copper, of one-
tenth of two shillings (or 2d. and a fraction), which
might be called a cent, as being the hundredth of a
pound sterling ; anda third, called the millet, to con-

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

371

sist of one-thousandth of a pound, and therefore a
little smaller than the present farthing. For the pro-
posed coin of two shillings, Various names had been
suggested, as ‘“‘ Victorine,” “ rupee,” or “ florin;” it
being not much different from the value of some of the
rupees in the East Indies, or the florin of the Conti-
nent. Under this new decimal scale the shilling
would be retained, and also the sixpence,—but the
latter under another name better expressing its value
under the new order of things.

It will be seen that the suggestions of Mr. Babbage,
of Mr. de Morgan, and of the Commissioners, all point
pretty much in one direction—all recommend a coin
value two shillings of present money, whether called
a“ Prince,” a “ Royal,” or a “ Victorine ;” allsugeest
another coin, one-tenth of this in value, and equivalent
to rather less than two-pence halfpenny ; and also the
striking of ‘ farthings” equivalent to one-thousandth
of a pound. The opinion seems also to be pretty
general that the binary divisions of the shilling and
sixpence, &c., or of coins nearly equal to them in value,
should be retained. The nature of these propositions
is such, that until persons engaged in keeping financial
accounts become fully alive to the facility and expe-
ditious operation of decimal arithmetic, mischief rather
than good would result from making a change; since
the small shopkeepers will never deem the matter of
so much importance as to justify the change. Old
habits are unlearned with difficulty, even when the
advantage of a change is pointed out; and hence the
importance of making the advantage of such a change
as this obvious to those who will first feel the benefit,
viz., bankers and commercial men. If these classes
are disposed to regard the change with approbation,
half the difficulty would be removed.

The History of a Prece of Tape.—To trace the various proce:scs
a piece of tape passes through, and the various employments it
affords, before it comes into the market, is a very curious and
interesting occupation. Beginning then with the first commercial
operatious :—The cotton used in the manufacture of tapes having
been warehoused, we will say for instavce, in Liverpool, is sold
on account of the importer, and bought to the order of the
manufacturer by cotton-brokers. It is conveyed by canal or
railway to Manchester, and when delivered at the works of the
purchaser, is weighed, assorted, mixed, and spread, with a view
to obtain equality in the staple. It is then taken to the willow-
ing-machine to be opened and rendered Mocculent; thence it is
transferred to the bluwing-machine, which cleanses it from dust
and makes it feathery. Attached to the blower is a lapping-
apparatus, by which the cotton is taken up and laid in a con-
tinuous fleece upon a roller, in order that it may be conveniently
carried to the carding-engine, there to be made into a fleece of
the most equable texture possible; thence it is handed to the
drawing-frame, where it is bleuded with the ela of all
the carding-engines connected with the particular set or system
to which it belongs. It is next passed through the slubbing-
frame, afterwards through the jack or roving-frame, and then
through the throstle or spinning-frame, upon which it is made
into yarn or twist. From the throstle, the yarn, if intended foz
warp, is forwarded to the winding-frame; but if intended for
weft, to the reeler. Afterwards, that which is wound is deliverca
to the warper; that which is reeled, to the pin winder. The
weaver next operates upon it, passes it through the loom, rubs
up the tape, aud consigns it to the taker-in, who examines the
fabric and transfers it to the putter-out, who sends it to the
bleacher. When bleached, it is handed to the scraper, whose
business it is to take out the creases, and open the tape, by
running it under and over iron scrapers. This having been
done, the piece is put through the calender, when it is pressed
between bowls, and rendered smooth and glossy. It 13 next
taken to the lapping department, where it is neatly folded by
young women; after which the maker-up forms she piece ito
parcels, containing the required quantity, and places them ina
powerful press to make them compact. He next papers them,
aud sends them to the wareliouse fur sale—J. G. C.

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THE PENNY MAGAZINE

(SepremMBER 2-4,

EePr.

(New Abbey.—From an Orginal Sketch.j

NEW ABBEY, OR ABBEY OF SWEET-
HEART.

Tig picturesque ruins of the Abbey of Sweet-heart
lie in the Stewartry of Kirkcudbright, upon the left
bank of the Nith, about seven miles south of Dumfries.
They consist of the church and part of the chapter-
house, the only remains of the once magnificent and
extensive building founded by Devorgille, one of the
coheiresses of Alan, the last of the ancient lords of
Galloway, wife of John Balliol, lord of Barnard Castle,
and mother of John Balliol, king of Scotland, in the
early part of the thirteenth century. Her husband
died in 1269, when she caused his heart to be em-
balmed, and preserved in a highly ornamented box of
ivory bound with enamelled silver, which was set
within the wall of the church near the high altar,
from which circumstance the abbey obtained its name
of Dolce Cor, or Sweet-heart.

The foundation was of the Cistertian order, and was
liberally endowed with ten churches, the barony of
Lochpatrick, and divers lands and other possessious,
amounting in the whole to a revenue of 6827. The
first abbot was Henry, who died on his journey to
Citeaux; his successor, Eric, was among the free
barons who swore fealty to Edward I., on his under-
taking the arbitration between the claims of Balliol
and Bruce for the crown of Scotland. The number of
the brethren is not exactly known, but in 1548 a
charter appointing Robert, Master of Maxwell, and
his heirs, to be hereditary baillies of the abbey, to take
the said abbey under their prowcien, for which they
were to receive lands, mill, and fishings, feued at
117 merks 8 shillings and 8 pennies Scots, has the
signatures of the abbot and thirteen monks. The
last abbot was Gilbert Brown, who sat in parliament
when the Confession of Faith was adopted on August
17, 1560. He was an active controversialist on the
Catholic side, and, a8 Dr. M‘Crie says in his ‘ Life of
Melville,’ “ a busy trafficker for Rome and Spain ;” he
had consequently the distinction of being specially
named yy the Commissioners of the Assembly when,
in their list of grievances submitted to the king in
1596, they stated the “ Jesuits and other excommuni-
cated persons were entertained within the country ;”
orders were issued for his apprehension on this charge,
but 1t was not till 1605 that he was taken, nor then
without difficulty, as Calderwood states that the people
attempted to rescue him. He was, however, treated
with considerable indulgence, and after an imprison-

ment of some length in Blackness and Edinburgh
castles, was allowed to leave the kingdom for France,
where he died, at Paris, in 1612.

After the Reformation the abbey remained in the
hands of the crown from 1587, when the Annexation
Act passed, till 1624, at which time it was granted to
Sir Robert Spotswood. From this family it passed by
purchase to Mr. Copeland, during whose possession
much of the building was destroyed by the tenantry
for the sake of the stone, though contrary, it is said, to
the stipulations contained in the leases granted by him.
Greatly, however, to the credit of the neighbouring
gentry, in order to preserve the venerable relics from
total destruction, they raised a sum of money by sub-
scription, with which, through the minister of the
parish, they purchased its preservation, since which
time the ruins, and even the outer wall, have been
carefully respected.

The abbey stood in an enclosure, now called the
Precinct, of upwards of twenty acres. It was sur-
rounded by a wall, part of which yet remains, built of
granite, the stones of which are of immense size, some,
even near the top, weighing a ton each. The church
was a beautiful lofty pile, in the light ornamented
Gothic style, of a cruciform structure. [ts length is
two hundred and twelve feet; the breadth at the
transepts is one hundred and fifteen feet, and of the
nave and chancel sixty-six feet. The tower, which
had a sort of gable roof or story, is ninety-two feet
high. “In the roof of the south transept is an
escutcheon, charged with two pastoral staves in saltire,
over them a heart, and beneath them three muilets of ive
points, two and one, said to be the arms of the abbey.”’*
Over the escutcheon is an inscription: Mr. Thomson,
the architect, who measured this and other similar build-
ings in 1821, procured a ladder in order to examine
this inscription more closely ; he made a tracing of
the projecting letters, which are ia old English, and
found the words to be “ Choose time of need,” spelt
thus, “ Chus Tim o’ Nid.” Grose, who was not able
to read the motto himself, took it on report to be
‘Christus Maritus Meus.”

Lord Kames, who often visited New Abbey, was the
first who Sanaa an account of a very singular ash-
tree which grew from some seed dropped on one of
the abbey walls. Considering its situation, the sap-
ling had grown to a considerable size, and in the course
of time put forth a runner, which, after descending
the wall, entered the ground, and supplied the parent-

* Grose, ‘ Antiquities of Scotland.’

1842.)

tree with nourishment, like a root formed in the usual
manner. Such a phenomenon is of rare occurrence ;
and though the original no longer exists with the
feeder that rendered it so curious, its place has been
supplied by roots, which may hereafter have similar
action.

The parish in which New Abbey is situated was an-
ciently named Kirkindar, but has since adopted the
name of its great ornament, and is now called the
parish of New Abbey. It extends along the Nith to
the Sulway Frith; the parish is extensive, and the
lower part is fertile and well cultivated, while the
upper and by far the larger portion consists chiefly of
rocky hills, mosses, and muirs. The air is considered
fine and healthy, and the place is much visited in suim-
mer for the benefits to be derived therefrom, and from
the use of goat’s whey and sea-bathing. The parish
kirk, built in 1731, stands on the south side of the
abbey church, and is formed out of part of the ruins ;
‘near it isa small gate,” says Grose, “leading into the
abbey, on which is a bell: this is of a curious style of
architecture; on it are several defaced carvings in
basso-relievo, with two escutcheons of arfns. The
burial-ground lies to the east of the abbey church; in
it are some ancient tombstones; on one a cross, with
a large and broad sword on the sinister side of it.” In
the parish, which has a population of about twelve
hundred, besides the parochial school, there are two
other schools with small endowments. The valley or
bottom in which New Abbey is situated declines gra-
dually to the shore of the Solway, and is watered by
the Glen burn, called also New Abbey Pow, a stream
or inlet of the sea, which is navigable for coal and
lime boats or other vessels of sixty or seventy tons
burtben.
from the abbey is varied and extensive, embracing a
large portion of the coast of England. Loch-Kindar,

with its little island and ancient ruin, which is seen from.

the tower of the abbey, is still a fine lake for trout.

At some little distance from the abbey there yet
remain some ruins of what was once the private re-
sidence of the abbots of Sweet-heart, when they with-
drew for business or pleasure from their official duties
in the abbey. It % called the Abbot's Tower; and as
it stands on a height, was probably considered more

healthy than the wooded bottom occupied by the abbey .
a pi y y:

and village beneath.

ON THE PROPER MANAGEMENT OF

FOREST-TREES.

{From a Correspondent.)
ConsipeRtNcG the means that have been afforded, it is
truly astonishing to see with what neglect ninety-nine
wood and hedge-row trees out of a hundred have been
and still are suffered to remain. No branch of rural
affairs, without exception, has inade less progress or is
upon the whole less understood than the pruning of
trees. The utility of pruning hard-wood trees is gene-
rally admitted by practical men. Although
in ordinary cases does not ultimately increase the bulk
ar weight of wood, yet trees which are early, judtci-
ously, and annually pruned, will be improved in quality,

increased in their useful dimensions and eventual:
value, and a greater number can be grown on a given '

space. Judicious and early pruning is essential to-
wards promoting the

eonifere: in exposed situations.

attracting and retaining a great proportion of the ela-
borated sap, which, if properly directed by judicious
pruning, would go to form valuable timber in the
main trunk of the tree.

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

When the weather :s favourable, the view |

| health of the tree b

runing:

owth and value of by far the
larger variety of hard-wood trees, and even of the:
Their value as timber :
is much detcriorated by numerous ramifications.

373

In some situations the necessity of pruning may be
in a great measure obviated by thick planting and
timely thinning. These means are geterally most
effectual in producing straight and well-grown timber
in every species. Jn such cases thinning early pre-
vents the necessity of excessive pruning. Some are of
opinion that much may be done in thick oak-woods
without prune by carefully thinning out the worst
trees, and leaving those best calculated to become fine
timber; but when woods are thin, pruning and train-
ing scientifically are essential. Thick planting and
early thinning are the nearest possible to the unassisted
operation of natural causes towards the formation of
tall, straight, and well-grown timber.

In order to produce the most beneficial effects, the
process of pruning should be begun early, and not
carried to any large extent at once, but renewed every
year as the tree advances, until it is brought to the
most perfect form its nature wil! admit of. When
trees in the plantation have produced three or four
te two-years’-growths, pruning should be com-
menced. At this period the knife is the most suitable
implement, and the top is the pues part which
requires attention. In order that only one shoot may
be allowed to remain as a leader, the others next in
size, if not very inferior, must be removed or headed
down, that is, foreshortened, generally to about one-
half the length, and all the stout branches on the tree
removed close to the stem or headed in the same man-
ner. If the tree be stunted, the best shoot should be
selected as a leader, and by this means its health wil.
be restored. All scientific planters agree in repro-
bating the common error of clearing young trees en-
tirely of side-branches up to a certain height. It is a
very general practice in the management of plantations
to clear the stem of all side-branches to a certain
height at the first pruning, and afterwards to operate
only on the under branches of the tree. This tends to

roduce a small trunk, an irregular top, and side-
ranches more vigorous and over-luxuriant than the
leader. When this is practised in exposed places, not
one ina hundred ever becomes a large or valuable tree.

It is also one great and common error to cut off in
one year branches to the height perhaps of fourteen feet
from a tree not above twenty feet high. ,When this is
done, the trees remain stationary, and are often stunted
to such a degree as to assume the appearance of old
age. Such an excess of amputation destroys the
depriving it of the organs by
which a sufficiency of sap is secured to be afterwards

| converted into wood.

All foresters insist
encouraging the leading
which have a tend to compete with it, so as to
divide the stem into forks or clefts. It is well known
that when the leading shoot is destroyed the growth of
the tree is serrously a eae By increasing the
number of leading shoots the strength of the nutritious
pee is rendered in a great measure ineffectual.

runing is only of much advantage when it is per-
formed early in those side-branches which are apt to
bear too great a proportion to the leading branch,
thereby modifying the tree and directing its energies
gradually to the top, | iseeag at the same time a
sufficient quantity of folmge. Where the hedge-row
trees and trees in open situations are intended for pro-
fitable timber, pruning should commence at an early
period of their own growth, encouraging the leading
or main stem by displacing or shortening all over-
luxuriant or aspiring side-shoots, by ripping off buds
likely to contend with the leader, gradually clearing
the lower part of the stem or side-shoots, and forcing
the top into the shape of a very open cone. Trees
thus managed will form close and healthy stems with-

especially on the necessity of
eg and checking all a

374 THE PENNY
out any interior blemish, and be trained to any reason-
able altitude according to the soil, subsoil, and situation
on which they grow ; but if neglected, such is the pro-
pensity of most sorts of what are called ‘‘ round-headed
trees” in open spaces to run into branches, that without
due attention the foliage will become too voluminous
for the roots, and a check to loftiness and the formation
of useful timber will ensue. The only rule to attend
to is to keep the top to taper, preserving the leading
shoot clear and free from clefts and the bole free from
all the largest-rooted branches, leaving those only of
the sinaller kind that are requisite for the health and
support of the tree, and eae the tree from the
bottom of all the branches as it advances in age. But
the bole should be cleared very slowly at first when
the trees are sour: Only keep the branches that are
left thereon small by often pruning, so as not to injure
the tree when it becomes timber. By the heads of
trees being kept tapering when young, the rapidity of
the growth is greatly increased on account of the sap
being confined to the most useful points, and not allowed
to spread in support of large unnecessary branches. By
attending to these rules and the operation of pruning
being executed every year, the bole will be extended
toa great height, and at the end the grand object
attained, viz., the production of sound unblemished
timber.

The proportions which will be found most consistent
with full-sized trees are fifty feet of trunk to thirty-five
fect of head. It is of the utmost importance that trees
should have circumference of stem in suitable pro-
portion to their height. In young trees there should be
one inch of circumference for every fifteen inches of
height. If the circumference is proportionably greater,
so much the better. Trees should be examined every
her till they are fifteen inches in circumference; the

ighest will then be fully eighteen feet.

Whenever dead branches are found on any tree, they
cannot be too soon removed ; and even fir plantations,
which when thickly planted are pier self-pruned,
will be improved by having all the dead wood pruned
off quite close. Dead branches being allowed to
remain on the bole only tend to produce moss, espe-
cially in damp situations; and their hurtful nature to
trees of all kinds is too well known to require any fur-
ther comment.

The greatest diversity of opinion seems to prevail
respecting the proper season for pruning trees ; indeed
all different seasons have been mentioned as the most
proper by one writer or another. As we have the
testimony of authors that all of them have been put to
the test of experience and have been attended with
success, we may be tempted to conclude that provided
we use proper caution in pruning and do not cut very
large branches, it is not of very material consequence
what season we choose for the operation, and that the
sinaller wounds caused by the gradual and careful
pruning above recommended will heal in a reasonable
time and without any great damage at any season of
the year. There is no doubt still much to learn re-
specting the proper management of plantations and
hedge-row timber.

ON RIVERS, GEOGRAPHICALLY CON-
SIDERED.
(Concluded from page 368.j

In a few rivers the tide ascends toa great distance
from the sea. In the Amazonas it is perceptible in
the Narrow of Pauxis near Obydos, a distance of nearly
five hundred miles from the mouth of the river, mea-
sured along its course. If we suppose that the tide in
this river advances at the rate at which it runs in the
Elbe between the North Sea and Hamburg, namely,

MAGAZINE, ([SerremneErR 24,
nearly a mile in five minules, the tide can only reach
the Narrow of Pauxis in forty-two hours, or in a space
of tine during which the direction of the tides has
changed seven times at its mouth. It is therefore
evident that the current of the Amazonas between the
sea and the Narrow of Pauxis must, at the samc time,
in three or four different parts of its course, follow the
impulse given to it by the tide, and run against the
stream. Weare of opinion however that the tide in
the Amazonas advances more slowly than in the Elbe,
owing to the stronger current of the Amazonas, and
that the number of high tides in the Amazonas, be-
tween the two above-mentioned points, will probably
be found to be five or six. The tide rushes into some
rivers with great impetuosity, and produces what is
called a bore.

Human ingenuity, even in the lowest state of civili-
zation, has perccived the use of rivers as means of
conveyance. Perhaps all rivers which have water
enough to carry the smallest boats of any shape or
form are navigated, except where the nature of the
current opposes insuperable obstacles. These obsta-
cles consist of cataracts or of raptds. When the river
descends from a rock which rises several feet perpen-
dicularly, it rushes down ina broken sheet of water,
and is said to forma cataract. When the water de-
scends with great velocity over an inclined plane of
rock, it is said to forma rapid. A cataract may be
descended when itis only a few feet high. Rapids
may be ascended and descended in most cases with
great labour and some danger, when they are not very
long, and the bed of the river is free from projecting
rocks, which however is rarely the case. The ascent
of rapids is effected either by poling or by dragging
the boats over the dangerous place by means of long
ropes. Sometimes ropes are also used in the descent,
as inthe Rhine at Laufenburg in Switzerland. But
generally either the whole cargo or a part of it must be
taken out of the boat, and carried a certain distance
by land. Such a tract, over which goods must be
carried, is called a portage. At long and dangerous
rapids the boats themselves must be carried or dragged
over the portages.

River boats differ greatly in shape and construction,
being always adapted to the nature of each river.
Most rivers contain numerous shoals, on which the
water is very shallow, and accordingly flat-bottomed
boats are used, like the coal-barges in London. Keel-
boats can only be used where the river has a depth of
a few feet, and is free from shoals and sand-banks.
When a river is shallow and rapid, but of considerable
width, rafts are substituted for boats. Rafts generally
consist of trees fastened together with ropes or the
flexible branches of trees, or, in warm countries, by
creeping plants; goods are placed upon the raft.
When these rafts with their cargoes have arrived at
their place of destination, the raft itself is sold, cither
as timber or as fire-wood, according to its dimensions
and quality; and the crews return by land. Whena
river is too full of cataracts and rapids to allow either
boats or rafts to descend, it may still be used for
floating down timber or fire-wood. The trunks of
trees, after being deprived of their branches, are
thrown singly into the current, and towards the mouth
chains are laid across the river, above which the trunks
collect, and whence they are carried to their destina
tion. This is frequently done in the rivers of the
southern districts of Norway.

Rivers which traverse a mountain-region in some
parts of their course, are either not navigable in this
part or only in some places. Thus the Amazonas and
Ganges, where they respectively flow within the
ranges of the Andes and Himalaya Mountains, are not
navigable, but the Rhine and the Danube arc navi-

1842.]

gable even within the mountains, in soine parts fora
considerable distance.
internal navigation is presented by those rivers which
have a long course, ee whose sources are situated at
a comparatively small elevation above the sea. The
Volga is navigable in the whole length of its course,
and the Mississippi up to the Falls of St. Anthony, a
distance of about eighteen hundred miles, measured
along the river. Both these rivers, as already observed,
have the greater part of their course between hills
of small clevation, and they do not traverse a moun-
tain-region.

The rivers of England supply the means of an ex-
tensive system of inland navigation, a circumstance
partly due to their small fall, their sources being only
a few hundred feet higher than their mouth, and partly
to the abundant supply of water from rain, mists, and
springs. Accordingly, if two rivulets unite, they
gencrally form a sinall navigable river; and such as
are not navigable become useful as feeders to canals.
The navigation of most of the rivers of England has
been much improved by artificial means.

The Thames is navigable for large sea-vessels to
. London Bridge, a distance of forty-five miles from the
Nore, though the whole course of the river, measured
along its windings, hardly exceeds two hundred miles.
No river in the world, perhaps the Amazonas excepted,
is navigable for vessels of such dimensions for one-
fourth of its course. This circumstance is not due
solely to the height of the tides, which is about nine-
teen feet at London Bridge, but mainly to the fact
that there are no sand-banks at its mouth which pre-
vent the access of large vessels. The river probably
brings down sufficient earthy matter to form a bar,
but owing to the direction of the tide, which is kept off
from the mouth of the river by the projecting coast of
Kent between the two Forelands, and there being
consequently nothing td oppose the current of the
river at its mouth, the earthy matter is carried farther
from the coast, and deposited in deep water.

The advantages Bitheria enumerated are common
to rivers in all parts of the globe, but there are some
countries in which the value of rivers 1s much in-
creased by the use which is made of the water for irri-
gation. This occurs in those countries in which it
either does not rain at all, or in which rain occurs
only ata certain period of the year, and even then
only for two or three months. The first class of such
countries, for instance the western coast of South
America between 5° and 28° S. lat., would be unin-
habitable but for the rivers which descend from the
western declivity of the Andes, and in their course to
the sca have furrowed the surface with deep depres-
sions or valleys, in which agriculture is carried on
with success as far as the water of the river can be
dispersed over the level part of the valleys by small
canals. In those warm climates where the rains occur
periodically, though only in two or three months of the
year, the fields would certainly produce a crop, even
without irrigation; but for more than half the year
the soil would produce nothing for want of water. By
using the water of the rivers for irrigating their lands,
the inhabitants of those countries are enabled to get two
and in many cases three crops annually. Even in the
southern countries of Europe, where rain 1s very scarce
in summer, and not sufficient to maintain vegetation,
whilst the heat is excessive, irrigation is practised, and
two crops of Indian corn are thus annually obtained,
or one crop of wheat and a green crop.

In those countries in which the temperature for
three or four months is under the freezing-point, the
rivers during that time are covered with ice, and in
this state thcy afferd to the inhabitants. in some degree,
the advantages which other countries derive from

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

The most extensive system of

375

railways. Travelling and the transport of goods on
the smooth ice of the rivers are much Icss expensive,
and are performed ina shorter time than in summer
in the ordinary way. This is the case on some of the
rivers of New Brunswick and Lower Canada.

It has been observed that the outer borders of river-
basins are the most elevated parts which occur in some
given places between their respective beds, though it
is not always the case that the watershed is formed by
mountain-ridges. Owing to sucha disposition of the
surface, the waters which are collected on or near the
borders run to one or other of the two rivers. Up to
the commencement of this century it was thought im-
probable, if not impossible, that two different river
systems or basins could be united by a natural water
communication. But it is now ascertained that a low
tract of country or a deep depression of the surface
may occur, by which a portion of the water of a river,
after being diverted from its own channel, may join a
river which otherwise is not connected with that river
from which the water branches off. The instances in
which this occurs are very few, and we shall therefore
enumerate those whose existence is beyond all doubt.
The river Arno in Tuscany, in that part where it runs
between the high ridges of the Apennines and
approaches the town of Arezzo, sends an arm south-
wards through a narrow valley, under the name of
Chiana, which falls into the Chiare, an affluent of the
Tiber. The Chiana had been filled up with sand, but
its course has been re-established by artificial means.
Another case occurs in the kingdom of Hanover, a
few miles east of the town of Osnabriick, where the
river Haase divides into two branches, of which one,
running west to Osnabriick, preserves its name, and
after a course of many miles joins the Ems; the other,
running east under the name of Elz, falls after a short
course into the Werre, an affluent of the Weser. In
Sweden two large rivers fall into the northern
extremity of the Gulf of Bothnia, the Tornea Elf and
the Calix Elf. About one hundred miles from the
sea the last-mentioned river sends off an arm to the
south-east, which after a course of about twelve or
fifteen miles falls into the Tornea Elf: this arm is
called Tarenda Elf. In these cases the rivers thus
united by a natural water-communication flow in the
same direction or nearly so. But in South America
two large rivers, the Orinoco and the Amazonas, are
united in this way in a part of their extensive courses,
where the Orinoco runs west and the Amazonas east.
The branch of the Orinoco by which this natural water-
communication is effected is called Cassiquiare.

It is a kind of established rule that the whole course
of a river should bear the same name, and that this
name should be continued to that branch whose
sources are farthest from the mouth. But practice is
frequently at variance with this rule, and it may easily
be accounted for. The inhabitants of a country pre-
serve the name of that river which does not undergo
any deflection of its course. At the confluence of the
Mississippi and the Missouri, the latter is the larger
river, and has had a course of above one thousand
miles more than the former, but it docs not deflect the
course of the Mississippi by its junction, and the
name of the last-mentioned river is preserved. The
same occurs in South America as to the Amazonas and
Madeira, where we find that the last-mentioned river
changes the direction of its course to meet the Ama-
zonas, whose name is preserved. In Europe the
Rhine is joined by the Aar in Switzerland, above
Laufenburg. The Aar is the larger river and brings
down a greater volume of water, but the Rhine, where
it is joined by it, continues its westerly course, and its
name 1s preserved. ; .

The extent of a few river basins jis here given in

376

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

SEPTEMBER 24, 1842.

round numbers, but they must only be considered as { as such; and an expert rower, or a skilful boxer, will receive

rough approximations :—

Rivers. Square Miles.
Thames. ‘ ‘ 5,500
Rhine ‘ F - — 89,000
Euphrates, including the Tigris 243,000
Brahmapootra : 270,000
Danube . . 312,500
Indus ‘ : ‘ 410,000
Ganges. . : 443,000
Volga : ‘ 65:3,000
Nile : : ; 707,50)
Yan-tse-kiang ‘ ‘ 742,000
Mississippi : : 1,100,000
Plata ; é ‘ 1,560,000
Amazonas. ¢ ; 1,920,000

Law.—Of Law there can be no less acknowledged than that her
seat is the bosom of God, her voice the harmony of the world.
All things in heaven and earth do her homage; the very least, as
feeling her care, and the greatest, as not exempt from her power :
both angels and men, and creatures of what condition soever,
though each in different sort and manner, yet all with uniform
consent admiring her as the mother of. peace and joy.— Hooker.

Obligations of Governments to encourage Commerce.—-All men
ought to find on earth the things they stand in need of. Jn the
rimitive state of communion, they took them wherever they
hanpeied to meet with them, if another had not before appro-
priated them to his own use. The introduction of dominion
and property could not deprive men of so essential a right, and
consequently it cannot take place without leaving them, in gene-
ral, some means of procuring what is useful or necessary to them.
That means is commerce; by it every man may still supply his
wants. Things being now become property, there are no means
of obtaining them without the owner's consent; nor are they
usually to be had for nothing; but they may be bought or ex-
changed for other things of equal value. Men are, therefore,
under an obligation to carry on that commerce with each other,
if they wish not to deviate from the views of nature; and this
obligation extends also to nations and states. Jt is seldom that
nature is seen in one place to produce everything necessary for
the use of man; one country abounds in corn, another in pastures
and cattle, a third in timber and metals, &c. If all these coun-
tries trade together, as is agreeable to human nature, none of
thera will be without such things as are useful and necessary ;
and the views of Nature, our commgn mather, will be fulfilled.
Further, one country is fitter for some kind of products than
another, as, for instance, fitter for the vine than for tillage. If
trade and barter take place, every nation, on the certainty of
procuring what it wants, will employ its land and industry in the
most advantageous manner; and mankind in general prove
gainers by it. Such are the foundations of the general obliga-
tion incumbent on nations reciprocally to cultivate commerce.
— Fattel, book ii., chap. 2, sect. 21.

Desire of Distinction.—Excellence in all things is no longer
attainable, when the standard of excellence has universally been
raised so high. A youth soon discovers this: he is beaten in his
classics at school ; he is left behind in his science at college; he
is eclipsed in accomplishment in the drawing-room ; he is awed
into gileces by the pedantry of the dinner table: his vanity is
piqued; be does not allow himself to reflect, till he finds out the
true solution of the problem, in his own idleness or desultory
reading, or perhaps in the thoughtless ambition that would grasp
at all knowledge when unable to retain a fraction; he therefore
settles down into the determination, “I will be distinguished in
something,” and standing six feet in his shoes, and blessed with
a muscular arm, he forthwith speculates on rivalry with Tom
Cribb, or passing a-head of Maynard or Campbell in a sculling-
match to Putney. His mistake is this: the world admires the
rare combination of bodily grace with a well-endowed mind and
power of understanding. It is felt, and justly, that human per-
fection 18 attained when the person and the intellect are equally
and splendidly ornate; but this admiration is not capable of
division: detach the personal merit from the intellectual ex-
cellence, and the wonder is gone. A profound mathematician,
or an elegant classic, or an accurate historian, will be honoured

such meed as may be due to his performance ; but neither inthe
one case nor the other will it be the applause elicited by an
“admirable Crichton.’? Even real versatility of talent does not
necessarily imply transcendent genius—but the affectation of it
rovokes a smile. Where muscular power is substituted for
earning as the object of ambition, it is tantamount to a confes-
sion that the vanity of the aspirant is limited to the distinction of
Wapping-stairs or the Castle Tavern. To dance well, to ride
well, to carry the head erect, and the limbs gracefully, are all
accomplistiments in some measure essential to every one whom
birth and education raise above the labouring class; but unless
a man is intended for a dancing-master, or a drill-serjeant, he
may rest perfectly satisfied with as much in this way as he ac-
quires in statu pupillari s and if he has not acquired such
graces before he leaves school, he may be assured that all the
training and teaching in the world will not, at riper years, trans-
form him either into a Hercules or an Apollo: but though
guiltless of this desiderated end, they may lead to another which
he little anticipates: they entangle him in familiarity with the
lowest of the Jow; they identify him with the circles of profli-
gate blackguardism ; they mark him as the associate of ruffians
and thieves; and it need scarcely be added, that they thus alien-
ate the confidence and abridge the esteem of all that are good
and respectable in society. Every rowing-match or boxing-
match, more especially the latter, is the resort of all the scum
and scamps of the metropolis; a race-course or a suburban fair
is scarcely a shade better; drunkenness, debauchery, and Jicen-
tiousness are common alike to all, and exhibited too in their
grossest and most revolting forms. Some coarse and foolish
people are found to uphold them under the sophistical pretence,
that the amusements of the poor should be respected; and if their
amusements are legitimate and rational, most undoubtedly they
ought not only to be respected, but liberally promoted. But we
have seen the very men who thus court popularity, by pandering
to the worst passions of the poor, in the sporting papers of the
day, shrink with disgust from the contamination of the brutal
scenes which they attend to report, and empty their pockets
most cautiously of watch and purse before they elbow their way
among the ruffians whose prowess they celebrate! The young
man may be assured that he cannot habitually attend these de-
grading arenas without pollution and eventual infamy, or even
avow an accustomed interest in them without endangering his
welcome in every well-ordered family. ‘Life in London’ is
not yet, we are happy to say, recognised as the life of London's
educated circles.— Gade to Service. — The Clerk.

Turkish Houses.—The Turkish houses in Constantinople, as it
is well known, are commonly of wood. The best of them, of
ample dimensions, gaily painted, are pleasing to the eye; and
all of them, however poor, are, from their form, invariably pic-
turesque. Even the most splendid of the palaces of the sultan
is of the same destructible material. The preference is given
to wood by the Turks, not chiefly on account of economy, but
from the persuasion that it is more wholesome than stone, and
also, it is said, from a feeling of humility; it being considered
by them presumptuous to dwell in buildings like their mosques,
made, as it were, for eternity, and keeping no measure with the
frailty of the occupants. The idea of the unwhplesomeness of
stone buildings is not perhaps without foundation in such a cli-
mate. The stone houses in Galata, built by the Genoese, with
walls of extraordinary thickness, are of bad repute. Unless the
rooms are kept warm in winter, they must be damp in the spring
and early summer: so long as the walls are cold on the occur-
rence of a southerly wind, they will act as refrigeratories, and
occasion @ precipitation of moisture from the humid warm air.
The thin walls of wood, on the contrary, conform more to the
temperature of the atmosphere. None of the sitting-rooms of the
houses have fixed fire-places or chimneys; they are heated in
winter chiefly by a charcoal-fire, contained in the open mangal
or covered tandour. The mode of warming their rooms is also
suitable to the manner in which they are constructed. The
crevices in the wooden work allow of a certain admixture of
common air and escape of carbonic acid gas, sufficient to prevent
any dangerous accumulation of the gas, so that the rooms are
easily warmed, and kept warm and dry, without risk of life.
Were the doors and windows of Turkish rooms suddenly made
air-tight, and the fissures in the wood-work closed, there being
no chimney to give vent to the fixed air, half the population of
Constantinople might be suffocated any winter night between
sunset and sunrise.—Dr. Davy's Malta and the Ioman Islands.

SUPPLEMENT. |

THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 317

A DAY AT A BOOKBINDER’S.

»¢ onrserrcereetantersinn’ te 2 7 HL ett PF srtbttay 1
) sp abl lit ji i tr! Habis ill} 4 ein iti i H HA

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ip) | as Tiyan
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Bt
iy

(Roan binding Shop.—Messrs. Westleys aud Clark’s Factory.]

Ir is a necessary consequence of thé connexion exist-

ing between different branches of manufacture, that
no one of them can receive any notable increase or
advancement without benefiting many of the others.
| Thus, the spur which was given ten or a dozen years
ago to popular reading by the establishment of works
issued at a small weekly price, and many of them illus-
trated by wood-engravings, has been the means of in-
ducing changes and eliciting improvements in nearly
all the arts connected with publishing :—wood-en-
graving, paper-making, printing, bookbinding—all
have been affected by a moving-power which at first
sight might appear a trivial one. Some of the works
now published at a penny or three-halfpence weekly
can vie with the costly works of bygone years in illus-
trations, paper, and printing; and those persons who
were schoolboys in the days when schoolboys were
whipped through ‘ Vyse’s New London Spelling-book,’
will not fail to see how rapidly such books are assum-
ing the neat gilt-lettered cloth covers of modern times
in place of the nankeen ‘roan’ of past years.

n one of our early volumes a sketch, under the title
of ‘The Commercial History of a Penny Magazine,’
was given of wood-engraving, paper-making, type-
founding, stereotyping, and printing, sufficient to con-
vey a popular notion of those departments of ‘ book-
making ;’ but the subject of Bookbinding was touched
upon so slightly as to leave ample room for the present
article. The mechanical and social economy of a large
bookbinding establishment at the present day are of
much interest ; and we have been favoured by Messrs.
Westleys and Clark with the requisite facilities for
presenting the details which will now occupy our
attention.

Any one who knows London intimately is aware that
many of our large factories are so hemmed in on all
sides by houses as to be scarcely visible externally.

No. 670.

Such is the case with the building now under our
notice. It is a large pile, built expressly for its pre-
sent purpose, and presenting much the appearance of
a cotton-factory; yet we can scarcely catch a glimpse
of it till nearly close to its walls. To say that it is
situated in ‘Shoemaker Row’ will not perhaps convey
a very precise idea of its locality to the mass of readers ;
and we must therefore be content with saying that it
has Ludgate Hilla little on the north, Doctors’ Com-
mons a little on the east, and Apothecaries’ Hall a
little on the west. The building is six stories or floors
in height, and has an extensive range of windows from
north to south, with an entrance in the middle. Into
this entrance we will suppose the reader to accompany
us.

Each floor of the building is in general appropriated
to one class of operations, under the superintendence
of a foreman, ha if is responsible for that department.
A winding quadrangular staircase extends up the
centre of the building from bottom to top, with land-
ing-places, at which are several doors leading to the
workshops. The basement story consists of many
rooms occupied as warehouses, or for processes wherein
heavy machines are employed. Thus, one room is the
‘board warehouse,’ where the mill-board, purchased
from the stationer in sheets of various sizes and thick-
ness, is deposited in classified recesses till wanted.
Another is the ‘cloth-warehouse,’ where the cotton-
cloth, now so extensively used for covering books, is
kept and cut to sizes. Near this is the ‘embossing
warehouse,’ filled with pieces of leather or cloth which
have received some of those ornamental devices to be
described hereafter. One room, which we will call
the ‘cloth-cylinder room,’ contains two machines for
imparting to cloth the diamond or granulated or
verge appearance usually presented by beoks in
cloth boards; an appearance which nearly hides the

3/8

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

[SurremMBER, 1842.

reclangular interlacings of the warp and weft threads. | department, are forwarding the earlicr operations; and
The ‘embossing shops,’ on the same range, contain | men, in another department, are finishing the voluines.

three powerful machines for giving to the flat covers
of books those beautiful devices which now so often
distinguish them: if the book be a Bible, we have an
emblematical device of a religious character ; if it be a
‘Shakspere,’ we have something pertaining to the great
dramaust; if it be a lady’s album or portfolio, or
letter-case or blotting-book, we have a device of a
graceful and ofnamental character. This isan approach
towards what inay itt be termed a ‘principle’ in
bookbinding, viz. that the subject of a hook tog
known from its cover ; a principle which sccms to have
much to recommend it.

On ascending to the ground-floor, or that which is
nearly on a level with the strect, the hum of voices
tells us that a numerous body of workpeople of both
sexes are here employed.
the principals is one of those simple but valuable
expedicnts for saving time, now so much employed in
large factories; we mean a scrics of ‘speaking-tubes.’
Tubes pass from this room to the counting-houses or
offices of all the foremen above and below stairs, and
with these are associated a range of bell-wires ; a bell
is first rung, which draws the attention of the foreman
to his end of the tube; and a message being then
whispered or spoken through the tube, he hears it
readily, and gives the necessary reply. All the tubes
are inscribed with the names of the department to
which they belong.

The main portion of this floor is occupied by the
‘boarding-shop,’ a technical name for the shop wherein
all the operations are conducted for binding books in
cloth boards, the most prevalent style at the present
day. In one part of this room females are engaged in
folding the sheets, gathering them into groups, sewing
them into the form of a book, &c. ; while in other parts
are men pursuing the subsequent operations of glue-
ing, pasting, cutting, hammering, pressing, &c., b
which the book is brought to a finished state. This is a
very busy scene, and one pone much variety, from
the distinct nature of the processes carried on. In
many branches of manufacture it is found convenient
to locate the workmen according to the kind of labour
required; but in bookbinding on a large scale it is
found desirable to classify with respect rather to the
style in which the book is to be bound, than to the
nature of cach individual process. Hence nearly all
the workpeople required for binding an extensive
order of books in boards are here congregated on one
floor. The folding-tables for the folders, the sewing-
frames for the sewers, and the various benches and
presses for the workmen, are the scenes of many re-
markable and ingenious processes, of which we shall
speak more hereafter.

The next range (which, if we reckon the basement
as the commencement, must be called the third) exhi-
bits another cxample of the classification just a)luded
to. This is called the ‘ roan-shop,’ or the ‘ shecp-
shop,’ in allusion to the preparation of those books
which are covered with roan, or shcep-leathcr. Most
readers are perhaps aware that books bound in
‘sheep’ are less expensive than those bound in
‘calf;’ the leather itself is less costly, and the genc-
ral style of workmanship less elegant. Hence work-
men who are accustomed to one sort of binding are
gencrally ape upon that kind; and hence the
reparation of roan-bound books in a workshop dif-

Our frontispiece represents the appearance of this
room.

Another room on the same range, known in the fac-
tory as the ‘ Pinnock’ room, affords us a curious insight
into the amount of sale which popular works some-
times command. This room is appropriated mainly
to the sewing and covering of the little ninepenn
books called ‘ Pinnock’s Catechisms.’ Of these small
productions the sale is so large and £0 uninterrupted,
that the processes of sewing and covering them pro-
ceed continuously. The numbers sold must be enor-
mous ; and indeed a glance through the operations of
this range of the factory shows that such school-books
as are so fortunate as to obtain a “ name” command
an extent of sale scarcely equalled by any other kind

In the counting-house of | of literary productions, with the exception of Bibles

and Prayers. ‘ Goldsmith’s England,’ * Mangnall’s
Questions,’ ‘ Carpenter's Spelling,’ and other school-
books, were piled in such heaps and groups in various
stages of preparation as to indicate pretty clearly to
us the extent of the demand. What improvements
these books may have reccived from time to time as
literary productions, or may be susceptible of receiving
hereafter, is no part of the present subject; but exte-
riorly they have marched with the march of the times,
and have yielded to the bookbinding reforms of ‘ em-
bossed-roan’ and ‘ cloth-lettered.’

The fourth range of the factory is occupied by the
‘extra’ workmen ; that is, those who are employed on
the finer kinds of binding, such as Bibles and Praycrs,
gilt-edged books gencrally, and books exhibiting all
the costly and elaborate varieties of ‘ Russia,’ * Mo-
rocco,’ and ‘ Calf’ binding. One shop, called the
‘ extra-forwarding shop,’ is occupied by the folders,
pressers, sewers, &c., while the ‘ extra-finishing shop’
sufficiently explains itself.

In the two upper floors of the factory are numcrous
rooms more or less subsidiary to those below stairs.
One or two are ‘ blocking-shops,’ for lettering and
ornamenting the covers of books; another is occupied
by the men who make cloth-cascs for books; in an-
other, the edges of books are gilt. Onc is the ‘ leather-
warehouse,’ where all the various kinds of leather are
kept, as procured from the leather-dresscr, and cut to
the required sizcs. Another is the * Annual" shop, in
which the Annuals are bound at the particular period
of the year when they are wanted. One of the rooms
is termed the ‘ Caoutchouc-shop,’ as being devoted
principally to those workmen who produce the
caoutchouc or Indian-rubber binding; and there are
a few others, which are used, or not, according as the
amount of business fluctuates at different seasons.

Among several indications of a well-arranged fac-
tory, we noticed one which is always pleasing wherever
observed. Many of the superintendents and workpeople
appear to have been old standards, to have grown old
with the growth of the factory, and to have shared
with the proprictors the progress and fluctuation to
which all manufactures are subject. This is a feature
which we have more than once had occasion to notice
in reference to large factorics, and is one of consider-
able importance to the well-being of both the em-
ployers and the employed.

aving thus glanced at what we may term the fac-
tory-cconomy of the establishment, let us next endea-
vour to follow the routine of processes, 80 far as to

erent both from that above described and from that | give the reader some idca of how a book is built y
devoted to more elegant work. This range is, how- | after it leaves the hands of the printer. We shall for
ever, not strictly confined to roan-bound books, since | this purpose classify thc various operations in three
‘ school-books,’ whether bound in cloth or in leather, groups, according as they relate—lIst, to making-un a,
are. repared here. The large room exhibits nearly | book; 2nd, to covering a book; and 3rd, to decoratin
sinilar features to that below stairs; females, in one |a book. A bookbinder would probably object to this

SUPPLEMENT. }

mode of classification; but we think it will meet the
wants of the reader better than a more technical mode
of arrangement.

Ist. Making-up a book. It must be obvious to all
who reflect that a book is printed in large sheets that
these sheets must be separately folded and then con-
nected together, before they can assume the form of a
book. If we open, without cutting, a number of the
‘Penny Magazine,’ or of ‘Chambers’s Edinburgh
Journal,’ we sce that the cight printed pages are so
arranged, as to follow in proper order when the sheet
is folded in a certain manner; and if, as in the ‘ Mirror,’
or ‘ Chambers’s Information for the People,’ there are
sixteen pages in a number, the arrangement of these
pages appears singularly confused when the opencd
sheet is inspected ; but here, as in the former case, the
pages are arranged solely with reference to the order
of sequence when fuldecd. Each sheet has at the
bottom of the first page a letter, figure, or other
symbol, called a ‘signature,’ intended to assist in
arranging sheets properly in the volume.

The printer sends the sheets to the binder (we are
speaking of bookbinding on a large scale) in large
heaps or groups, arranged in one of two forms; either
many copies of one sheet, or ten or twelve successive
sheets of one volume, form the group; in the latter
case the heap is called a gathering, or quire; but we
will suppose the former to be the case, as it will enable
us to speak of the gathercrs. The heap of sheets
passes to the hands of the folders, who are, we believe,
almost invariably females. Fach folder sits before a
flat table or bench, on which she spreads out the sheets
in succession. In her right hand she holds a small
ivory or bone folding-knife, with which she flattens
the foldings of the sheet. Every successive sheet of
the group is folded in precisely the same way as that
which preceded it, so that no particular skill is re-
quired in adapting the various shects one to another ;
but the folding is nevertheless a process requiring
much accuracy, especially in the finer kinds of bind-
ing, as the sheet 1s folded so as to make the top and
bottom lines of the print range, without reference to
the edge of the paper. The sheet is placed with the
signature towards the Icft hand of the folder, on the
under surface; and the foldings are more or less
numerous according as the book is folio, quarto,
octavo, 12mo., 16mo., 18mo.,; 24mo., 32ma., &c., terms
SU relate to the number of printed pages in one
sncet.

Supposing a group of signature A to be thus folded,
another of signature B, and others, to the extent re-
quired for the volume, these will have to be ‘ gathered’
into volumes at the next process. This gathering is
simply breaking up the groups hitherto existing, and
re-arranging the same sheets in the order necessary
for the volume. Instead, for instance, of having
twenty copies of one sheet, such as that with the sig-
nature A, one of A is taken, then one of B, then one
of C, and so on, until there are as many groups as
volumes, and each group containing the sheets for one
volume. This ‘ gathering’ is in most cases done by
the printer before the sheets pass into the hands of the
bookbinder.

The ‘collater’ now takes the group of sheets. in
hand and examines them to see that they occur in
proper order, that no duplicates occur, that no sheet is
wanting, that the folding is correct, &c. This is a pro-
cess in which much expertness is shown. The group
is bent at one corner, and the sheets allowed to spring
back successively, leaving to the eye just sufficient
time to catch the signature at the bottom of the first
page of each. If these signatures occur regularly,
according to the letters A, B, C, &c., or the figures
1,2, 3, &c., or any prescribed combination of both,

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

379

then the arrangement is correct; if not, any error is
immediately adjusted.

When the book of loose sheets has been thus made
up, the sheets are either at once sewed, or are previ-
ously beaten or pressed, according as the work is to be
‘in boards’ or ‘bound.’ It is well known that a
bound book is more dense and compact than one in
boards, and this difference is mainly due to the process
iminediately preceding the sewing. Until recent times
the sheets were separated into small groups, called
‘sections’ or ‘ beatings,’ and beaten with a heavy ham-
mer till greatly compressed; but modern invention
has marked out a much more effective mode of pro-
ceeding. The rolling-press is a machine in which two
rollers, worked by hand, are made to rotate nearly in
contact ; a man places a small number of folded sheets
between two tin plates, and passes them between the
rollers, on the other side of which they are received by
a boy, who places the pressed sheets in heaps, and
returns the tin-platcs to the man. Jndependent of the
saving of time and of muscular exertion, the rolling-
press is found to be more efficacious than the hammer
In producing less ‘ set-off,’ or transference of ink from
one page to another.

The sheets are placed for a short time in a standing-
press, and are then again collated, to see that no dis-
arrangement has occurred ; any plates, too, which may
be interspersed among the text, are now inserted. The
sewer now sews the sheets to strings or bands at the
back ; but if the strings are to be rendered invisible, a
saw-mark is made for the reception of each. The
group of sheets is fixed tightly in a press, with the
back edges uppermost, and a few shallow cuts are
made with a saw, at right angles with the length of
the book.

A sewing-press consists of a flat bed or board, from
which rise two end-bars, connected at the top by a
cross-bar. ‘Ihree or more strings, according to the
size of the book, are fastened by loops to the cross-bar,
and are tightencd down by a simple contrivance at the

(Sewing-Press.]

lower end. The sewer, seated somewhat obliquely in
front of this machine, with her left arm passing round
the left vertical bar (as seen in the annexed cut), pro-
ceeds to sew the various sheets to the bands, her Icft
hand being behind the strings, and 6 ven hand

330

before. Each successive sheet is laid flat on the bed
of the sewing-press, with the back edge in contact
with the strings, then opened in the middle, and
fastened to the strings by passing a threaded needle
backwards and forwards through the central fold of
the sheet; each thread, after passing from the in-
side to the out, being made to loop or twist round
one of the strings before entering the sheet again.
As soon as one sheet is fastened to all the strings,
another is laid down on it, and fastened ina similar
manner. A curious kind of stitch, called a ‘ kettle-
stitch,” is made near the top and bottom of the
book, as a means of allowing the thread to pass on
from one sheet to another. Nonprofessional readers
may be sorely puzzled to know what ‘ kettle-stitch’
means; but we can only say that it is supposed by some
to be a corruption of ‘ catch’ or ‘ ketch’ stitch, while
others refer it to ‘chain’ stitch. Those who would
attempt to trace the etymology of technical terms and
phrases would soon find themselves in a sea of mys-
tery both wide and deep.

The operation of sewing is conducted with great
rapidity, since a female can sew two or three thou-
sand shcets a day. Many modifications of the process
occur, according to the size of the book and the style
of binding. Thus, the number of strings may be only
three, or may amount to eight or ten; or instead of
strings, strips of vellum or of parchment are some-
times used. In some cases the needle passes through
eight thicknesses of paper, in others six, in others four,
in others two; according to the size of the sheet, the
number of pages in it, and the mode in which the
pages are arranged. It is a fortunate circumstance,
considering the very limited number of employments
for females in this country, that there are several de-
partments of bookbinding within the scope of their
ability. The greater part of that which has hitherto
engaged our attention is intrusted to females; and in
a large bookbinding establishment employment is thus
afforded to a considerable number. his firm, for in-
stance, in a busy season, give employment to about
200 females, whose weekly earnings average from
10 to 18 shillings; and where a supervision, at once
kind and judicious, is observed by the principals, an
honourable subsistence is thus afforded for those who
might have no other resources to fly to.

While speaking of making-up a book, we must re-
mark that caoutchouc or India-rubber binding requires
no sewing. The sheet is cut into separate leaves, and
these leaves are retained solely by a cement of caout-
chouc applied to their hinder edges. The leaves are
allowed to assume around contour at the back-edge
by placing them in a kind of mould or gauge shaped
for the purpose ; they are then rasped, to give a slight
roughness for retaining the caoutchouc afterwards
applied. A flexibility is produced by this kind of
binding, greater than can be presented by a sewed
book ; while at the same time the caoutchouc cement is
80 retentive as to bind every single leaf firmly, This
new mode of binding was introduced a few years ago,
and is valuable for any kinds of volumes.

2nd. Covering a Book. We have now made up the
shects into the form of a book, and have connected
them together, Whether the volume is in elegant
‘calf-extra,’ or ‘ Russia-extra,” or whether it is a
roan-bound school-boak, or a ‘boarded’ book, the
sheets are brought together in some such mode as we
have attempted to describe above. Here then we shall
commence the second of the three sections into which
we have thought it proper to classify the operations.
The ‘cover’ of a bouk, in bookbinders’ phraseology,
is the piece of leather or of cloth which envelopes the
millboard ; but the reader of a book, when he speaks
of its cover, gives the term a much more extensive

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

(SEPTEMBER, 1842.

application. We must therefore at once explain that
the leather or cloth is called the cover, the stiffening
substance within is the board, and both taken collec-
tively the case,

When the book is taken from the sewing-press, an
inch or two of each string is left hanging to it; these
are afterwards either scraped so thin as to be but little
conspicuous, or are employed for fastening the book
to its case. The back of the book—that is, the asscm-
bled back-edges of all the sheets—is glued, to increase
the bond by which they are held together. When the
book has gone through one or two other minor pro-
cesses, that one succeeds which is perhaps as re-
markable as anything displayed in bookbinding ; viz.
rounding the back and hollowing the front. Most
eae can understand the production of a square

ack and edge to a book; but the graceful convexity
of the one and concavity of the other, in most books
bound in the modern style, are as curious in the mode
of production as they are pleasing in appearance. In
the process of ‘backing,’ by which this effect is pro-
duced, the book is laid on a bench, held or pressed by
the left hand of the workinan, as shown in the annexed
cut, and hammered near the back edge, with such a

[Rounding the Back of a Book.}

peculiar movement of the left hand as causes the back
to become rounded while the hammering proceeds.
The cffect is so instantancous that a looker-on scarcely
knows how or when it is produced. The state of the
back is such as to enable the shects to yield to the
rounding action of the hammer, being coated with glue
not yet dried ; and the subsequent drying of the glue
retains the shects permanently in the position which
they thus acquire.

Tt may perhaps have occurred to many a reader, that,
as the board of a book is frequently of considerable
thickness, it is likely to project beyond the back and
to form a stiffand inconvenient hinge. This is pre-
vented by a very simple contrivance, adopted at the
time when the book is ‘ backed.’ It is placed between
two picces of plank called ‘tbacking-boards,’ the
hinder edges of which are placed precisely where the
two hinges of the book are to come. ‘The book with
the boards thus pisces is then squeezed tightly in a
ghee with the back cdge uppermost; and the back

eing thus again hammered ina round form, a portion
of edge projects over the boards, so as to form a kind

SUPPLEMENT. ]

of groove into which the millboard may afterwards
convenicntly be adjusted.

The reader will bear in mind that the edges of the
book are all this time rough and uneven; but the
time has now come when these edges must be brought
to the level and smooth surface which adds so much
to the beauty of a book. There are a few minor pro-
cesses carricd on about this time; but the plan of our
article requires that we should natice only those of
most prominent importance. In former times the
edges were cut in a most cluinsy and rude manner by
means of shears, one blade being fixed to a bench, and
the other being moved by the right hand of the workman,
while his left hand held the book, and thus the leaves
were cut a few ata time. The cutting of the edges was

partly effected by this method, and partly by drawing

the edge of a sharp knife along the leaves, guided by
the edge of a board. The ‘cutting-press’ of the pre-
sent day is however a much more effective arrange-
ment. The book, after being properly adjusted be-
tween two boards, is screwed in a press, with one of
the ends projecting a little above the level of the
bench. The ends of all the leaves are then cut off
while in this position, by means of an instrument called
a ‘plough,’ the cutting edge of which, in its mode of
action, 18 midway between that of a pointed knife and
a plane-iron. The edges are all cut toa perfect level;
and the book being reversed, the other end is similarly
treated. But by far the most remarkable part of the
piace. is that by which the concave froat edge is
rought to such aregular curve. Most persons who
have thought of the matter at all may have conceived
that this concavity is produced by scooping out a por-
tion with a gouge; and indeed the circumstance of the
concavity of the front edge being just the same in
degree as the convexity of the back has given rise to
many sage conjectures wholly wide of the truth. The
glue with which the back of the book had previously
been coated is so far softened as to suffer the bands
and the back edges of the sheets to yield to pressure;
and this is followed by an operation which makes a
stranger fear that the round of the back is destroyed
for ever. The workman takes the book in his hand,
front edge uppermost, and strikes the back forcibly
against the bench; thus transforming the round back
into a square back. Then, using some contrivarices to
keep the sheets in this position, he fixes the book in
the cutting-press, and cuts the front edge in precisely
the saine way as the top and bottom; thus making all
the edges perfectly square, and all the leaves perfectly
equal in size. The most remarkable part of the ope-
ration then succeeds ; for immediately on removing the
temporary fastenings froin the book, the whole of the
leaves spring back to their former position, that is,
convex at the back edge; and the slightest considera-
tion of the nature of curvature will make it manifest
that, as all the leaves are made perfectly equal in the
cutting-press, a convexity at one edge must be accom-
panied by an equal concavity at the other. Hence is
produced the hollow or ‘gutter’ of the front edge.

In this, as in other parts of bookbinding, the process
is modified to suit different circumstances. Books in
boards are either not cut at all at the cdges, or are
only partially cut; while bound books are carefully
cut at top, bottom, and front edges.

We next turn our attention to the boards, which are
permanently attached to the book in different stages of
its progress towards completion, according to the na-
ture of the binding. Millboard, the stiff substarice of
which the sides of books are formed, is a thick paste-
board composed of many erie layers, glued or
pasted together, and pressed ina mill to make them
dense and smooth. The sheets are of various sizes and
thicknesses, according to the size of book for which

THE PENNY MAGAZINE. o81

they are required; and the bookbinder sometimes
glues two together, to produce a board of double
thickness. From the large sheets the smaller pieces
are cut to form the sides of the books. In the first
lace, a pattern-picce, or size-pattern, is prepared,
aving the exact size and form of the boards to be
cut. The cutting-machine is then adjusted to these
dimensions, by causing an edged instrument, analogous
to a scissor-blade, to work at a certain distance from a
groove or raised ledge, against which the edge of the
board is placed. The actual cutting is effected, as here

(Board-cutting Machine.)

represented, on the same principle as by a pair of
shears; but the arrangement of the machine enables
the pieces to be cut with perfect accuracy, both as to
size and to rectangular form.

The boards are cut by the same machine, whatever
may be the department of the factory where they are
to be used; but the period of adjusting them to the
book depends on circumstances which we may now
explain. If a book is put into‘ cloth boards,’ or is
‘bound in cloth,’ the cloth cover is attached to the
boards before the latter are attached to the book; but
if the book is ‘bound’ or ‘half-bound’ in leather,
the boards arc first attached to the book by means of
the strings, and the leather cover is pasted on after-
wards. Inthe one instance the cloth is cut from the
rolls to the required size in the cloth-warehouse, and
handed over to the ‘ cloth-case maker ;’ in the other,
the leather is cut from the skins in the leather-ware-
house, and consigned either to the binders or to the
embossers.

A boarded book is attached to its covers almost en-
tirely by the boards being pasted to the blank leaves,
or ‘end-papers,’ placed by the binder at the beginning
and end of the book. The ‘cloth case’ is first pre-
pared by pasting the cloth upon the boards, placed
sufficiently wide apart to allow for the thickness of the
book; and the case, thus made, is attached to the book
by the back of the book being covered with stout linen
and afterwards fastened to the case; the end-papers
are then glued to the boards.

Ina bound book, however, the process is different,
and more carefully conducted. The boards being ad-
justed to the proper sizes, the back of the book rounded,
the edges cut, holes made through the buards opposite

352 THE PENNY
to the strings, and the strings of the proper length,
the boards are fastened to the book by passing the ends
of the strings through the holes and pasting them
down. The ‘ hollowness’ in the backs of some books
depends on a cause independent of the fastening of the
bands or strings. If we opena ‘ hollow-backed ’ book,
we shall see that the leather or cloth eover springs
away from the back edge of the sheets; whereas other
books appear to have the leather firmly attached
thereto. This difference arises simply from the inter-
position of a doubled layer of paper or cloth between
the leather and the back of the sheets: this layer
helps to strengthen the book, and, at the same time,
admits of the back being made close or hollow, accord-
ing as the two layers of paper arc or are not made to
adhere together. If we suppose a hollow cylinder of
yaper to be pressed flat, and one side pasted to the
hack edge of the sheets, while the leather cover is
pasted to the other side, we shall have some idea of the
nature of a ‘ hollow back.’

When a book, attached to its boards by means of the
bands, is ready to receive the leather covering, the
leather is cut to the required size, allowing about half
an inch allround for paring and turning in. The edge
is pared or cut away obliqucly with a keen knife, to
prevent the unseemly projection which would other-
wise result. If it is to receive any of those decorations
which add so much to the external beauty of a book,
the imprinting of the devices is done partly before and
partly after the leather is attached to the book, as we
shall explain further on. But the mode of pasting
the cover on the book is the same in both cases.
The leather is laid smooth with the face downwards,
and the back surface well coated with paste. The
workman then takes the book in his hands, lays the
back evenly in the middle of the leather, and draws
and smooths and works the latter until it adheres
closely to the back and boards of the book. This isa
process of very great nicety; for not only must the
more obvious parts of the surface be closely covered,
but the overlapping cdges, the turning-in, the corners,
&ec., must all be finished with great exactness, or the
book will be at once spoiled. It is one of those ope-
rations, so frequent in| manufactures, wherein success
depeads ona nicety of manipulation, as incapable of
being described as of being imitated without long
practice.

There is one little appendage which we may notice
here, viz. the head-band. Yivery one is familiar with
the fact that his Bible has a little band or edging of
silk at the top edge, where the paper joins the covers.
This head-band 13 partly for service and partly for
ae ; it helps to sustain the leather at the back
of the book at the same level as the boards; and it
gives a neat finish where slight imperfections might be
otherwise visible. The better kinds of bead-bands are
formed of little strips of vellum or pasteboard, with
coloured silk twisted over and around them in the
process of fixing them to the book; while the com-
moner kinds consist of a cord inserted in a doubled

iece of coloured silk or cotton-cloth. We may also

cre mention the ‘raised bands’ which are sometimes
used for ornament in the better kinds of books; they
consist of little strips of Jeather or cord pasted across
the back of the book before it is covered, and after-
wards stamped and gilt so as to contribute to the
beauty of the volume.

3rd. Decorating a Book.—We have glanced through
the more prominent operations by which the book is
made to assume its compact, convenient, and durable
form; omitting mention of many slighter manipula-
tions which would neither suit our limits nor be intel-
ligible to general readers. There is, however, a wide
difference between a book thus prepared and as given

MAGAZINE. ([SerreMBER, 1842.
in a finished state from the hands of the bookbinder.
The edges of the leaves are cut; but they are white,
neither coloured nor gilt: the boards are covered with
cloth or with leather; but neither cloth nor leather is
embossed or stamped, or gilt or lettered. As these
adornments are mabeidiary to the formation of the book
itself, we have thought it better to group them by them-
selves, whether they are done before or after the cover
is laid on the book.

First, then, for the edges. The majority of cut-
edged books are treated in one of two ways—sprinkled
or gilt; the first being the most general method for
bound books ; and the second for Bibles, Prayer-books,
Annuals, and the higher class of bound books. The
sprinkling is a singular process, and one which differs
greatly from the idea which many may have formed of
the matter. The edgcs of the majority of bound books
ee a speckled appearance, arising from a coloured

iquid or paint being laid irregularly over them; and
the pea consists in the mode of producing the
small spots. The colour is laid on, not with a brush, as
in painting, but by the following contrivance :—A set
of books, to be sprinkled of one colour, are ranged side
by side on a bench, in a recess shielded from other
parts of the factory. <A colour is mixed up, of umber,
Venetian red, or any other cheap pigment, with water
and paste or size; into this the workman dips a large
brush, and then strikes the handle or root of the brush
against a stick held in the other hand ata height of two
or three feet above the books: the action is so governed
as to cause a shower of spots to fall on the edges of the
books ; which spots are not so thickly congregated as
to cover the whole surface, and are yet such as to have
an equable appearance when finished. The mode of
handling the brush is obviously the point on which the
success of the process hinges. Some books have the
edges marbled, instead of sprinkled; this is done ina
manner similar to that observed in making marbled-
paper, and is the work of a separate class of men.

The operation of gilding the edges of bocks is one
which illustrates in a striking manner the dense and
compact form into which the leaves of a book are
brought by pressing and binding. The edge of a well-
bound Bible presents a fine, smooth, glossy, and bril-
lhant surface, so equable and uniform as to render the
distinct leaves almost invisible; yet these leaves can
be parted as easily as if their edgcs were not gilt, and
each edge Hed its fine and delicately-marked line
of gold. ere not the leaves pressed together as
compactly as a mass of wood, this effect could not be
produced.

There is in the process of gilding edges, as well as
that of cutting them, a necessity that the front and
back of the book should be brought perfectly square
before the operation. ‘The leaf-gold could not be bent
into the curvature of the ‘gutter’ if this were not
temporarily made flat: the book is therefore brought
to the required form (while the case or cover is yet in
an unfinished state), held tightly in a press, and the
edges scraped smooth with a stiaight-edged piece of
steel, to remove all aspcrities left by the cutting-
plough. The edge is then coated witha liquid com-
position of red chalk and water; and, while this is set-
ting or partially drying, the gilding-tuols are being
prepared. The lceaf-gold is blown out from the book
in which it is sold by the goldbeater, upon a cushion
covered with leather, where it is placed out smooth by
the aid of aknife. Each leaf is then cut up into two
or more pieces, according to the size and thickness of
the book whose edge isto be gilt. On the work-bench
is acup containing white of egg beaten up with water,
a little of which is laid, by means of a camel-hair
pencil, on the still damp surface of chalk and water.
Phe gold is then taken up, picce after picce, by a flat

SupPpLEMENT. |

cemel-hair brush, and laid on the book-cdge: This is
done to all the three edges in succession ; the book
being turned round in the press to bring the successive
edges uppermost. After the lapse of a very few
minutes the gold has become sufficiently dry and set
for polishing, a process which would seem calculated
rather to rub off every atom of gold than to polish it.
The workman holds in his two hands a long-handled
burnisher, at the lower end of which is fixed a very
smooth straight-edged picce of hard stone; this he

laces on the gilt surface, and with his left elbow rest-
ing on the workbench, and the handle of the burnisher
resting on his right shoulder, he rubs the gold with
great force at right angles to the direction of the
leaves. No gold is rubbed off, but the whole is brought
to a high degree of polish; the compactness of the
leaves being such as to allow no chalk-colour or egg
or gold to penetrate between them. If the burnisher
were workcd in the direction of the leaves, the polish
would not be so high. The boards of the book are
during these processes turned back as far as possible ;
and when the gilding is completed, paper is wrapped
round the gilt edges, to prevent the gold from being
soiled in the subsequent finishing of the book.

The covers of books are decorated in a greater
variety of ways than the edges. Roan-bound school-
books arc sometimes ‘ marbled’ outside; a process
which bears some resemblance to the sprinkling of
the edges. A liquid composition of copperas, potash,
water, and any common colouring substance, such as
umber, is made. The books are opencd, and hung
ovcr two bars, so that the boards may be nearly hori-
zontal, and the leaves hang vertically downwards.
The liquid colour is then dashed on somewhat in the
way before cxplained, so as to cover the back and
sides of the book; the spots or splashes being larger
or smaller, according to the mode in which the brush
is handled.

A mode of improving the appearance of Morocco
Jeathcr for the covers of books 1s nota Jittle striking.
Whoever compares the appearance of a piece of
Morocco ina slipper or a chair-cover with that pre-
sented by a well-bound book will perceive that the
former has a scries of irregular lines or grooves;
whereas the Jatter has a regular granulated appear-
ance. In our notice of the Leather Manufacture, in
the Supplement for May, we explained how the
wrinkled appearance of Morocco leather is produced ;
and have now to describe the simple contrivance
whereby it is removed. The leather is first wetted
and laid on a bench. The workman fastens to the
palm of his right hand, by means of a strap passing
Over the hand, a large flat piece of cork. Then,
doubling one portion of the leather over another, so
as to bring two surfaces into contact, he gently
rubs the upper fold of leather to and fro with the
piece of cork; varying the extent and position of
the doubling, and the direction of rubbing, 80 as to let
every part of the surface be rubbed against some
other part. The effect is very marked; for not only
are all the wrinkles removed, but they are replaced by
a kind of granulated surface, consisting of a uniform
series of minute raised spots. When the Icather has
been allowed to dry, it retains this texture per-
manently, and’ is then applied to the covering of
books.

The cotton-cloth with which so Jarge a numbcr of
new books are now covered has an ornamental
character given to it in three different ways, either
before or after it is applied to the boards of the book.
One of these is the imprinting, all over the cloth, of a
small and uniform pattern calculated to hide the
barrennees and stiff aniformity of the threads in the
cloth. If the reader has an opportunity of inspecting

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

383

the backs of many cloth-bound books, he will sce that
there are a great variety of patterns thus given to
the cloth. The process is as follows:—In the base-
ment story of the factory which has been engaging
our attention, are two machines for preparing the cloth,
each of which consists of two cylinders rotating in
contact by means of the usual machinery, as here
represented. The cylinders are engraved with the

(Cluth-embossing Machine.)

device which is to be impressed on the cloth, and
there are therefore as many pairs of cylinders as there
are devices ; cach pair being fixed to the machine as
wanted. By a very ingenious contrivance, a row of
small jets of gas is carried through the interior of the
lower cylinder, by which it becomes heated through-

out. Every kind of stamping or embossing in leather
or cloth is more effectively performed when aided by
heat, and it is to afford this heat that the gas-jets arc
em loyed. The second machine, on the samc prin-
ciple, is to impress particular designs of which a Jarge
quantity may be required. The piece of cotton-cloth,
many yards in length, is inserted between the cylin-
ders by its extreme end, and is then, by the action of
the machine, drawn regularly between them, receiving
its impress as 1t passes,

The embossing-presses act on a different principle.
The device is in this case engraved on a flat thick
plate of steel or gun-metal, which is stamped down
upon the Jeather or cloth. We have mentioned three
embossing-presses as being situated in the basement
of the factory. These are of immense power; indeed
one of them exerts a pressure of no less ‘than eighty
tons. The mode of using is simply thus :—The cover
or the case for a book is laid flat on a tablet or bed
heated with gas from bencath, or else on a counter-die
similar to that by which it is to be impressed. The
engraved plate (which is in ‘ intaglio,’ like a seal. but
not so deep) is fixcd to the press with its face down-
wards, and by manual labour, exerted on very power-
ful levers, it is brought down upon the cover with
such force as to impart its device t6 the leather or
cloth, the device being of course raised, or in bas-
relief, like a ‘cameo.’ There are some _ instances
in which the embossing is done to the leather or
cloth before and in others after the cover is pasted

384

to the boards; but the action of the machines and the
nature of the device are the same in either case. The
large embossing-press here represented, with its

powerful horizontal wheel, its enormous screw, and
the ingenious arrangement for heating the lower bed,
is perhaps the most note-worthy machine in the factory.
When we compare a cloth-bound book, or the cheap
embossed-roan Bibles now so much used, with an
elegant morocco or russia-bound book, we see that the
ornamental devices are raised above the common sur-
face in the former case, and levelled below it in the
latter. Hence a very different system of working is
required. The name of blocking is given to the opera-
tion whereby the depressed device is given. This is
either effected by a number of punches and other
small tools used by hand, or by means of a small
blocking-press. In the *extra-finishing’ shop, a name
riven to the shop where the higher class of books
receive their ornamental devices, are several tripuds
or standing frames, which act as gas-stoves. A jet of
gas is so placed as to heat a central compartment, into
or against which the tools are placed, whether for let-
tering or ornamenting, whereby the blocking, or
rather ‘tooling,’ is effected. Sometimes the de-
pressed device is not coated with gold, in which
case it is called ‘ blind-tooling;’ in others, gold is
laid on the book, and then stamped down with the
heated tool. The workman has a vast number of
tools, such as rounds, squares, points, scrolls, dia-
monds, lines, letters, &c., the combination of which,
according to the taste which he is enabled to dis-
lay, produces a pattern. The book is laid on a
nch, with its back or sides uppermost, according to
the part under operation, and the workman presses
the heated tools down on the level surface, leaving a
device which is at once depressed and polished. In
large or elaborate devices he has a paper pattern for
his guidance.
When the device is to be a gilt one, the leather re-
uires certain preparatory processes to fit it to retain
the gold. It is first coated with size, then two or three
limes with white of egg, and lastly slightly touched
witha piece of oiled cotton at the time the gold is laid
on. The gold is laid on in slips of greater or lesser
size according to the pattern; and the heated tools are
immediately impressed on it, whereby the gold is:made
to adhere permanently to the leather. The loose or
superfluous gold is then wiped off with a rag,—which
rag, we may remark, becomes an article of no small
value in the course of time.

THE PENNY MAGAZINE

[SErremMBER, 1842,

All that we have here said of ornamental devices
applies equally to the lettering of a book. Where,
however, it may be done conveniently, the punches or
small devices, instead of being fixed in handles and
used singly, are fixed, by means of glue and cloth, toa
metallic plate, and thus impressed on the book at one
blow by a press. This is then called ‘blocking.’ Jn
the ‘ blocking-shop’ are drawers and boxes filled with
various small devices in brass, which the workman
combines according to his taste, and fixes to a flat
block or plate. The plate is attached to the upper bed
of a press, heated by means of gas within ; and the case
of the book being introduced beneath, the block is let
down en it, and imprints the device, whether it be gilt
or ‘blind.’ Where a fillet, or line, or running sprig
forms part of the ornament on the back, sides, or edge
of a book, it is frequently done by a wheel or ‘ roll’ in
the manner here represented. The edge or periphery
of the whee] has the device in relief, and this, being
wheeled along carefully over the surface of the book,
leaves a corresponding depression.

Le wth

i
—
=

~~
we

{ ‘ Extra-Finisher’ at work.)

Such are the principal modes by which a book is
decorated. We hate becn able merely to give a type
or general representation of each, and must necessarily

ass over minuter shades of operation. The costly
bindinice in velvet and silk, the gold and silver clasps
of expensive Bibles, and all the niceties which the con-
noisseur in bookbinding regards with such an admiring
eye, We must pass over in silence.

It remains only for us to acknowledge the courtesy of
Messrs. Westleys and Clark, which has enabled us to
give this brief sketch ; and we cannot conclude with-
out again bearing testimony to the cxcellent moral
effects that the manner in which their establishment is
conducted produces upon the persons of both sexes
who ate in their employ.

Ocr. 1, 1842 ]

te — FF | ahaa
a pat | Las

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

oie 7 \ nals

SS. it
F iad
ee
1
- |

(Edward I11. and the Countess of Salisbury.)

FROISSART AND HIS CHRONICLE.
No. VII.

EDWARD THE THIRD AND THE COUNTESS OF
SALISBURY.

Many of our readers will no doubt be aware that an
interesting tradition exists respecting the origin of the
ancient and illustrious Order of the Garter. At one of
the splendid feasts given by Edward III., it is said the
Countess of Salisbury accidentally dropped her garter,
which some of the courtiers seeing,smiled. The king,
noticing both the circumstance and the silent comment
made upon it, said to them, ‘ Honi soit qui mal

pense ’-~Evil be to him that evil thinks. Such is the
tradition ; and the motto of the Order to this day con-
sists of the phrase said to have been thus made me-
morable. Not only does the peculiar character of the
words point to some such romantic cause, but the
tradition itself, or at least so much of it as attributes

No. 674.

the origin of the Order to the fair sex, is as old as the
reign of Henry VI. Why then should we doubt its
truth? simply, we believe, because it is so romantiv
and interesting. It is evident that many of our grave
semi-historians invariably act upon the principle of
doubting every story that comes thus recommended ;
and the absurdities they in consequence run into to ex-
plain anew what has already been sufficiently explained,
are most amusing. Thus various writers, whilst reject-
ing this story, account for the motto by saying Edward
intended the phrase to apply to all cavillers against the
French expedition ! Later writers, however, appear to
be returning to that view of the case which is at once
most agreeable to common sense and to poetry. But
it is curious to see how little stress has yet been laid
upon an incident in the previous lives of that same
king and countess, which in the highest degree sup-
ports, enhances, and illustrates the gt
During the early years of the reign the English and

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THE PENNY

Scotch were engaged in continual hostilities; and the
two kings, Edward and David, were ata certain period
with the armies on the border. During the manceu-
vres and marchings to and fro, David laid siege to
the castle of Wark, belonging to the Ear] of Salisbury,
then a prisoner in Paris. His countess, however, fully
supplied his place in the defence of the castle, and
assault after assault was repulsed with great slaughter.
“ The noble lady,” says Froissart, to whose Chronicle
we now revert, “‘ comforted them greatly within; for
by the regard of such a lady, and by her sweet com-
forting, a man ought to be worth two men at need.”
The siege continuing, it was determined to send for
succour to the king, Edward, then lying at York; but
no one would undertake the mission, so unwilling were
all to leave their beautiful and brave mistress. At
length Sir William Montague (a relation, probably, as
her husband had borne the same nanic before his ad-
vancement to the earldom), telling the garrison what
trust he placed in them, undertook the duty and de-
parted. On his way he fell in with a couple of Scots-
men, driving to the army an ox and two cows: these
he set upon and wounded, and killed the cattle. He
then told them to inforin their master, David, that he
was going to York to fetch the king, and so pursued
his way.

Another fierce assault now took place, but with no
better success to the besiegers; and the consequence
was, that on receipt of the news brought by the two
wounded soldiers, David determined to leave the
castle, which he did.

‘“‘ The saine day that the Scots departed from the said
royal castle, King Edward came thither with all his
nust about noon, and came to the same place whereas
the Scots had lodged, and was sore displeased that he
found not the Scots there; for he came thither in such
haste, that his horse and men were sore travelled.
Then he commanded to lodge there that night, and said
how he would go see the castle, and the noble lady
therein, for he had not secn her since she was married
before :* then every man took his rene as he list.
And as soon as the king was unarmed, he took a ten
or twelve knights with him, and went to the castle to
salute the countess of Salisbury, and to see the manner
of the assaults of the Scots, and the defence that was
made against them. As soon as the lady knew of the
king’s coming, she set open the gates, and came
out so richly beseen, that every man marvelled of
her beauty, and could not cease to regard her noble-
ness with her great beauty, and the gracious words
and countenance she made. When she came to the
king, she kneeled down to the earth, thanking him
of his succours, and so led him into the castle,
to make him cheer and honour, as she that could right
do it. Every man regarded her marvellously; the
king himself could not withhold his regarding of her,
for he thought that he never saw before so noble nor
so fair a lady : he was stricken therewith to the heart
with a sparkle of fine love, that endured long after ; he
thought no lady in the world so worthily to be beloved
as she. Thus they entered into the castle hand in
hand; the lady led him first into the hall, and after
into the chamber nobly apparelled. The king re-
garded so the Jady that she was abashed. At last he
went to a window to rest hun, and so fell in a great
study. The lady went about to make cheer to the
lords and knights that were there, and commandcd to
dress the hall for dinner. When she had all devised
and commanded, then she came to the king with a
merry cheer, who was in a great study, and she said,
‘Dear sir, why do ye study so for? Your grace not
displeased, it appertaineth not to you so to do; rather

* We may here remark that Edward had give this castle to
ber husband.

386

MAGAZINE (OcrosEr 1,

ye should make good checr and be joyful, seeing ye
ave chased away your enemies, who durst not abide
you: let other men study for the remnant.? Then
the king said, ‘ Ah, dear lady, know for truth that
since I entered into the castle there is a study come
to my mind, so that I cannot choose but to muse, nor [
cannot tell what shall fall thercof: put it out of my
heart I cannot.’ ‘ Ah, sir,’ quoth the lady, ‘ ye ought
always to make good cheer to comfort therewith your

eople. God hath aided you so in your business, and

ath given you s0 great graces, that ye be the most
doubted (feared) and honoured prince in all Christen-
dom ; and if the King of Scots have done you any de-
spite or damage, ye may well amend it when it shall
please you, as ye have done diverse times or [e’er]
this. Sir, leave your musing, and come into the hall,
if it please you; your dinner is all ready.’ ‘ Ah, fair
lady,’ quoth the king, ‘ other things lieth at my heart
that ye know not of: but surely the sweet behaving.
the perfect wisdom, the good grace, nobleness, and
excellent beauty that I see in you, hath so surprised
my heart, that I cannot but love you, and without your
love I am but dead.’ Then the lady said, ‘ Ah!
right noble prince, for God’s sake mock nor tempt me
not. I cannot believe that it is true that ye say, nor
that so noble a prince as ye be would think to dis-
honour me, and my lord my husband, who is so valiant
a knight, and hath done your grace so good service,
and as yet lieth in prison for your quarrel. Certainly,
sir, ye should in this case have but a small praise, and
nothing the better thereby. I had never as yet such a
thought in ry heart, nor, I trust in God, never shall
have, for no man living; if I had any such intention,
your grace ought not only to blame me, but also to
punish my body, yea, and by true justice to be dis-
membered.’ Heiewill the lady departed from tlic
king, and went into the hall to haste the dinner.
When she returned again to the king, and brought
some of his knights with her, and said ‘ Sir, if it please
you to come into the hall, your knights abideth for
you to wash; ye have been too long fasting. Then the
kine went into the hall and washed, and sat down
ainong his lords, and the lady also. The king ate but

‘little ; he sat still musing, and as he durst he cast his

eyen upon the lady. Of his sadness his knights had
marvel, for he was not accustomed so to be; some
thought it was because the Scots were escaped from him.
All that day the king tarried there, and wist not what to
do: sometime he imagined that honour and truth de-
fended him to set his heart in sucha case, to dishonour
such a lady, and so true a knight as her husband was,
who had always well and truly served him; on the
other part love soconstrained him, that the power thereof
surmounted honour and truth. Thus the king debatcd
in himself all that day and all that night; in the morn-
ing he arose and dislodged all his host, and drew after
the Scots to chase them out of his realm. Then he
took leave of the lady, saying, ‘ My dear lady, to God
I commend you till I return again, requiring you to
advise you otherwise than ye have said to me.’ ‘Noble
prince, quoth the lady, ‘ God, the Father glorious, be
four conduct, and put you out of all villain thoughts.

ir, T ain, and ever shall be, ready to do you pure ser-
vice, to your honour and to imine.’ Therewith the king
departed all abashed.”

Only a few days after this scene, described with such
wonderful delicacy and purity of sentiment, we find
Edward agreeing to a treaty between himself on the
one hand, and David, and his ally the French king, on
the other. Aimong the items of this treaty is one to the
effect that David should use his best exertions to obtain
the release of the Karl of Salisbury, in exchange for the
earl of Moray, then a prisoner among the English.
And again, after anvther short delay, we find Edward

1842.]

at London, making cheer to the Earl of Salisbury, who
was new come out of prison.”

But Froissart’s account of Edward and the Countess
does not end here. It appears that Edward gave a
sumptuous feast in the city of London, purposely that
he might see the Countess again. That lady came,
sore against her will, for she thought well enough
wherefore it was; but she durst not discover the mat-
ter to her husband ; she thought she ‘vould deal so as to
bring the king from his opinion. This was a noble
feast... . All ladies and damsels were freshly be-
seen according to their degrees, except Alice, countess
of Salisbury, for she went as simply as she might, to
the intent that the king should not set his regard on
her, for she was fully determined to do no manner of
thing that should turn to her dishonour nor to her hus-
band’s.”

Now was it at this very feast that the garter was
dropped? However that might be, our readers will
perceive with what new interest the romantic tradi-
tion relating to the Order becomes invested by its con-
nection with the exquisite story narrated in the fure-

going pages.
IMPROVED FRIENDLY SOCIETIES.

{From Mr. Tufnell'a Report to the Poor- Law Commissioners.)

UNFORTUNATELY the erroneous principles on which
Friendly Societics are generally founded have ma-
terially curtailed their benefits and diminished the con-
fidence that might be reposed in them. But I will
describe one founded on the most scientific principles,
which will explain more clearly what the poorer
classes might do to help themselves and avoid paro-
chial dependence, were these institutions placed within
their reach.

The County of Kent Friendly Society was founded
in 1838, almost entirely through the exertions of the
Rev. J. Hodgson, vicar of St. Peter’s, Isle of Thanet,
the honorary secretary, to whose able and vigilant
superintendence it is chiefly indebted for its efficiency.
It now extends by means of branches throughout the
county, and has formed the model for other similar as-
sociations in various parts of England. I have ex-
amined the regulations of many Friendly Societies, but
have never scen one equalling this in the apparent ac-
curacy of its calculations, or in the care with which it
provides for every contingency affecting human life
that is capable of being subjected to calculation. I
procecd to describe what a labouring man may do by
the aid of this society to help himself in the various
wilments by which he may be afflicted.

I will suppose a young man, 20 years of age, able to
lay by ls. 6d. a-month, or 44d. a-week, not a very
heavy tax in any county, but trifling where wages are
12s. a weck, as they are in these counties.* For this
payment the society will secure to him 8s. a-weck
whenever he is ill, until he attains the age of 65, when
GOl. will be given him, and at his death 6/. will be
given to bury him; or if he does not like these advan-
tages, he may have instead of them, and for the same
payment of 44d. weekly, the sum of 160/. paid him on
the day he is 65; or, instead of this he may have 1002.
on the day he is 65, and, besides this, 96/. on the day he
15 70.

But suppose he can pay 2s. a-month, or 6d. weckly.
In that case, if he begins to pay at 20 years of age, he
may have 10s. weekly pay in sickness until 65, and 12/.
to bury him; and when he reaches the age of 40, his
payment of 2s. a week will cease, and he will be entitled
to the saine benefits as from the first, without paying
for them any longer.

{ will suppose a married labouring man wishing to

* Kent and Sussex.

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

387

secure a provision for epee Oe a child, or other-
wise providing for him when he attains a certain age.
If he gives this society 1s. monthly for 13 years, he will
be entitled to receive 10/. at the end of that period ; or
if he can pay 1s. 10d. monthly for 14 years, he will then
be entitled to receive 20/. If the child for whose bene-
fit the moncy is paid should die before the benefit is
due, every farthing of the money paid for it is re-
turned.

Perhaps a father wishes to securea small pension for
a beloved child in its old age: if, when the child is
under three years old, he pays 8s. a-year until the
child is 19 years of age, such child will be allowed 102.
per annum from the age of 60 till death. Or 52. paid
down when the child is under two, will entitle it to
receive 100/. at the age of 60, or 140/. at the age of 65.
In either of these cases, should the child die before the
age of 19, the money paid will be returned.

Several of the preceding cases assure a considerable

sum to be paid at an advanced age, and in every case
the person entitled to the benefit may receive, if he
pleases, a certain pension, instead of the entire sum.
Thus, in the last case, 1400. is paid at the age of 65;
but instead of that, the society will give an annuity of
1d. for every 8/. 6s. 1d. paid to it. Hence, in this case,
the society, on reccipt of the 140/., would pay to the
person in question a pension of 162. 16s. a-year as long
as he lived; and thus, for the payment of 5/., a person
might ey this comparatively large pension and be
prevented from applying to the parish in his old age.
_ But, as it is perhaps the plainest way, I will give,
in the form of question and answer, examples of some
of the various ways in which this society provides for
contingencies :—

What is John Peacock, aged 15 next birth-day, to
pay monthly for Gs. weekly pay in sickness until 65, a
donation of 602. at 65, and 6/. to bury him ?— Answer,
ls. O24.

What is Frederick Short, aged 27 next birth-day, to
pay monthly for 12s. weekly pay in sickness, a do-
nation of 80/. at 65, and 12d, to bury him?—Answer,
2s. 93d.

James Walker, labourer, aged 24 next birth-day,
looking forward to a time when, by reason of old age,
he shall be able to work no longer, desires to provide
an allowance of 4s. to be paid to him weekly from the
age of 60 until he dies: what must he pay monthly for
it until GO >— Answer, Is. 4d.

What monthly contribution will John Jackson have
to pay toassure to his son William Jackson the sum of
5/., to be paid at the end of 12 years ?—Answer, 63d.

The apparently extravagant advantages for such
trivial payments may appear incredible to persons un-
accustomed to calculations of this sort; but any actuary
will prove their accuracy. They seem to me to prove,
that were societies of this description universally set on
foot and encouraged, there would be little need for the
poor-rates. If a young man can only lay by Gd. a-
week, which is perhaps not a fourth part of what he
spends in beer, he may be secured in independence for
lite. I know from experience how willing labourers
are to avail themselves of the advantages held forth by
these associations, especially in that department relat-
ing to endowments for their children, when fairly laid
before them and explained by the clergyman or any
one in whom they have confidence.

Weght and Heat of Air.—A pound-weight of air taken near
the level of the sea is closer than that taken from a high part of
the atmosphere, where it is thin, and occupies a much larger

ce. This explains why the thin air on high grounds is seem-
inzly colder than on low situations. Properly speaking, the
cold in high situations arises from the want of air rather than
from the air itself,

3D) 2

388

whee
—
~~

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

EAN

=
eS
= 2F ~™ ;
peak SOU 2 SNS = »
Cty F aw =

[OcroBeER I,

Se "He e

(The Common Maple—Acer campestris}

THE:MAPLE.

Ir would no doubt be highly interesting if we could
have the opportunity of observing each of the thirty or
forty species of the maple genus in one spot, as in the
case of the pines at Dropmore and the willows at Wo-
burn; but although about thirty species of the maples

and embellish. the landscape; :for the shortest and
readiest means of obtaining the timber which they
would yield is by importation from their native forests,
and this being the case, it would be in vain to expect
that good Jand, which they generally require, should
be devoted to the cultivation of even the most valuable
kinds of maple as an object of profit. The owners of

of Europe, of North America, and the mountainous | parks and pleasure-grounds, therefore, who are at the
parts of India have been introduced into Great Bri- | pains of introducing exotic maples, display their muni-

tain, the genus is neither so important as the pines nor
80 interesting as the willows; and there being little
inducement to form collections with a view of studying
their character and peculiarities, we must be content
to seek for specimens in many different places. They
are each to be found either in the gardens of the Hor-
ticultural Society, in those at Kew, in the great nur-
series In the neighbourhood of London, or in the
pleasure-grounds of noblemen and gentlemen of taste
and fortune. Even those species which would be a
valuable addition to our stock of timber-trees are not
likely to be introduced except with a view to ornament

ficence as well as taste.

The maples may be classified in three divisions, ac-
cording to their size: the well-known sycamore, with
its broad leaves and large timber, being a type of one
class; the common maple, inferior in size, and with
leaves very much smaller, representing another ; after
which we have the more diminutive varieties, which
‘are chiefly valuable for ornamental planting. The sap
of all the maples abounds in saccharine matter ; and in
North America, where they form extensive forests,
sugar is extensively made from two species, though the

| black sugar maple is by far the least productive of the

1342.]

Sugar has been made from other species in the
north of Europe. The process of making maple-sugar
has already been fully described (Vol. 1V., No. 194).
As timber-trecs also, several of the North American
maples are the most valuable which the gigantic forests
of the New World produce. The sycamore and the
common maple are the species chiefly known in Great
Britain. Of the former we may have an opportunity
of speaking at another time. The latter is still, as in
the time of Gerard, a hedge-row tree. Its height does
not often excced twenty fect; but in a deep and fertile
soil, and in sheltered situations, they attain a height of
thirty or forty feet. The blossoms appear about the
middle of April, and the leaves usually about a fort-
night Jater. The wood is often beautifully veined,
and, when highly polished, is employed for ornamental
purposes; but now that commerce has made the forests
of the whole world contribute to the elegance of our
furniture and apartments, the common maple is one of
those trees which is less valued than it once was. It
made excellent fuel and charcoal, for which it is now
scarcely missed since sea-coal has been transported by
good roads and canals to the remotest parts of the
country. The common maple may very often be seen
forming a fence with the white and black thorn, and it
is not injured by clipping, though, used in this way, it
seeins as if degraded from the honours which it once
enjoyed as a denizen of the woods. When Evelyn
wrote his ‘Sylva,’ the maple was used by turners for
dishes, cups, trays, trenchers, &c., and by the joiner
and cabinet-maker it was then also much prized for
tables, inlaying-work, &c., and specimens in which
“the knurs and nodosities are rarely diapered” fetched
a high price. He states that for ornamental purposes
it was worked so thin as to be almost transparent. It
is said that the maple is not indigenous in Scotland.
Mr. Loudon has collected a variety of interesting
notices respecting the maples. In Tartary, where a
peculiar species is found, and which is known in this
country as the Tartarian maple, the seced-lobes, ver-
nacularly called ‘“ keys,” after being stripped of their
wings, are boiled, and eaten with milk and butter.
In North America cattle and horses are turned into
the woods in spring to browse on the young shoots and
tender leaves of the striped-bark maple, and the
leaves in a dry state are also much relished. The
wood is white and of a fine grain, and is used by
cabinet-makers as a substitute for the holly. The
large or long-leaved maple is one of the finest forcst-
trecs of North America, and is sometimes found
frowing to a height of ninety fect, with a trunk
sixteen fect in circumference. This species, which
was introduced into England in 1812, grows rapidly,
and is well adapted to our climate. Its yellow
blossoms are very fragrant, and the timber is said to
be almost as fine as satin-wood. The scarlet or red-
flowering maple, which is very abundant in the South-
ern and Middle states of the American union, is
another valuable timber-tree. Its blossoms are of a
deep red colour, and appear early in the spring,
before the leaves. When a view can be obtained
commanding the summits of the forest, these trees have
a rich and grand appearance; and in autumn their
fading tints are very rich. This species was cultivated
in England by Tradescant in 1656. The timber is
employed very arse | in the United States both
for useful and ornamental articles, and before maho-
fany came into such general use it was employed
whenever elegance and beauty were desired in furni-
ture. Its richness and lustre, when highly polished,
equals, if it does not exceed, the finest mahogany. In
old trees the grain is sometimes found beautifully
undulated, and this, when worked and polished, dis-
plays very pleasing effects of light and shade. The

two.

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

389

white maple, another North American species, is also
a large timber-tree : the wood is lighter and softer than
the red maple, is very white, and possesses a fine grain.
It was introduced into England by Sir Charles Wazcr,
in 1725, and is prized as an ornamental tree on account
of its graceful form, fine foliage, and the profusion of
its blossoms. The sugar-maple grows also to a large
size, and the wood, which at first is white and after-
wards assumes a reddish huc, is much used for furni-
ture and bears a high polish. The Norway maple
and the Italian maple are the two most important
species on the continent of Europe. The former
resembles the sycamore, and is one of the commonest
trees in the forests of Russia, after the birch and the
trembling poplar; it was introduced into England
before the end of the seventeenth century. The opal
or Italian maple is very common in the south of
Europe, and is frequently planted by the road-side for
the sake of the shade which it affords. The wood is
close and compact, and the roots are remarkable for
the curious “ bird’s-cyes” or knots which they contain,
and being hard they are polished and used for inlaying
and ornamental work. this tree was introduced here
nearly a century ago. The other species which
prevails extensively in the Italian peninsula is known
as the obtuse-leaved or Neapolitan maple. The writes
of the article “Acer” in the ‘ Penny Cyclopmadia ’
remarks :—‘‘It is certainly very singular that so fine
a tree as this, occupying so large a tract of country
frequently visited English tourists, should be al-
most unknown in this country; and yet, although it is
perfectly hardy, and very easily multiplied, it is
scarcely ever met with except in botanical collections.”
Ten species of the maple are mentioned by Pliny, and
the timber, on account of its fine grain, beautiful
veins, and curious nodules, was in great esteem among
the Romans for tables. They gave extravagant prices
for the most curious specimens, and it is allemed that
when the Roman ladies were accused of extravagance,
they “ turned the tables” upon their husbands by an
allusion to the high price which they paid for their
polished maple tabics.

INSCRIPTIONS ON THE STATUE OF
MEMNON.

THE colossal figure of King Amenoth, or Phamenoth,
on the plain of Thebes in Upper Egypt, was celebrated,
above cighteen centuries ago, fora miraculous sound fre-
quently emitted by it soon after sun-rise, which the vul-
gar supposed to be a salutation to the sun, but which the
learned attributed to natural causes, although inexphi-
cable by them. Certain however it is that the sound
was heard; royal persons visited the colossus and
recorded their experience, writers of celebrity have
borne testimony to the fact, and at least a hundred in-
scriptions engraved upon the figure itself attest it.
All these inscriptions are either in Latin or Greek;
many are mutilated, but a considerable proportion is
stil] lerible, and, as appears from the dates accompany-
ing the greatest number of them, were written in the
first and second centuries of the Christian era; just the
time when such a practice might have been expected
to prevail ;—after the Roman conquest had made the
figure accessible to the inquisitive stranger, who on
witnessing such curiosity would scratch his name on it
in the same way a8 Englishmen are prone to do, and be-
fore the spread of Christianity had broken down the
ancient faith. No inscription is dated lower than

A.D.
Some of the inscriptions are written in Latin, and
pretty correctly. Most are in Greek, and these, with a
few exceptions, are misspelled, and ungrammaticall
expressed. This perhaps might have been expected.

390

as written by foreigners; but the official Greek papyri
published by the British Museum show that such was
the ordinary Greek of Egypt. —

The first traveller who made these inscriptions known
to Europe was Pococke, who above a century ago
copied fifty-six of them, which he placed In their rela-
tive positions as found on the colossus. His time was
very short, only half a day; he in consequence was not
able to take all and some which he did take, he copied
imperfectly ; but upon the whole he far surpassed both
in number and accuracy all who came after him, until
Salt, whose official residence in Egypt gave him ample
opportunities, furnished a complete copy of the whole.
These have been carefully read by Mons. Leironne,
from whom nearly the whole of this article is taken.

The earliest dated inscription is of the 16th March,
a.v. 64. This we give entire, as a specimen :—

A INSTVLEIVS . TENAX PRIMI PILARIS LEG XII __
FVLMINATR. ET C VALERIVS PRISCIS >LEG XXII
ET L QVINTIVS VIATOR DECURIO AVDIMVS MEMNONEM

ANNO X1 NERONI SIMP N XViik APRIL HOR....

(A. Instuleius Tenax, General of the 12th Thunder-
ing Legion, and C. Valerius Priscus, centurion of the
22nd Legion, and L. Quintius Viator, decurion, we
fear Memnon, in the 11th year of our Emperor Nero,
17th Calends, April,....) The hour is obliterated.

About two dozen of the inscriptions state no more
than that the writers heard the sound; of these six
were Preefects or Governors of Egypt under the Ro-
man empire; most of them are dated, and some of the
writers record their having been favoured twice in
one day.

Towards the close of the year 130 the colossus was
seen by the emperor Adrian, accompanied by his wife
and several attendants, some of whom record their
visit. The emperor himself heads the lists with his
name and title only, ‘“ Imperat. Adrianos,” in Latin with
a Greek ending; probably executed by a Greek, who
tricd to make it Latin. The record of the empress is
in Greek; it states, “I, Sabina Augusta, wife of the
emperor Adrian Augustus, heard Memnon atthe...
hour.” The number is effaced. Here it may be pro-
per to remark, that from the similarity of names or
some other cause, the Greeks and Romans supposcd
Amenoth to be the Memnon of Homer. TPhe two fol-
lowing inscriptions show this. The first is in Greek
verse, with an Introduction, but no name :—‘* When I
went to see Memnon, with the august Sabina. I too
will adore thee, Memnon, son of Tithon, sitting by
Thebes, the city of Jupiter ; or Amenoth, king of Egypt,
as is declared by the priests, who are conversant with
ancient fables.”

The second is also in Greek verse, in a curious Eolic
dialect :—“ I, Balbilla, heard the divine voice of Mem-
non, or Phamenoth. I came, together with the beloved
Queen Sabinna [sic] while the sun was marking the first
hour, in the fifteenth year of King Adrian, on the 24th
day of Athyr. It was the 25th day of the month Atbyr.”
The Jast line appears to have been added to correct
a mistake made in the first. The month Athyr be-
gan on the 28th of October, and the 25th was conse-
quently the 21st of November.

Another inscription in Greck, apparently by the same
lady, is much effaced, but enough remains to show its

tendency :—* Hail ready-voiced divinity, . . . thou
hast a tongue The atheist Cambyses ‘
he paid the penalty ButI . . For my

pious forefathers Balbillus the wise, and An-
tiochus, . - . Balbillus was of a royal mother,
and his father’s father was Antiochus; from them J
derive my noble blood. By me, Balbilla _*

* This was probably the Balbillus (in some copies Babillus

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

[OcronseER I,

The allusion to Cambyses is brought in, becausc it
was believed that the statue of the king had been
broken by his orders, when he conquered Egypt in the
sixth century before Christ. When Strabo and Pausa-
nias visited Egypt, the lower half of the figure only
was standing, the upper half lay on the ground; it has
since been repaired, not by putting the original piece in
its place, but by thirteen horizontal layers of sandstone.

nother Greek inscription, much obliterated, scems
to say that the royal party was at first disappointed ;
that the queen was very angry, and that even the king
was somewhat disturbed ; until Memnon, fearing his
wrath, gave the desired sound. If this was the case
at the first visit, the party had reason to be pleased at
a subsequent one, when, if Julia Camilla is to be trusted,
they were favoured with three salutations. This lady
(whose name has been read Balbilla, supposing her to
be the same as the writer above mentioned, but which
cannot really be so read, being either Ballilla or
Camilla), ina Greek inscription of some length, de-
scribes the kind of tone she heard; and as this has ex-
cited some interest, we give it in full :-—

“By Julia Camilla, when the emperor Adrian
heard Memnon. I had heard that the Egyptian Mem-
non, when struck by the sun’s rays, emitted a sound
from the Theban rock. When he saw Adrian, the
great king, he hailed him, as well as he could, before
the sun rose. When Sol, driving his white coursers
through the ether, measured the second hour on the
shadow, Memnon again sounded, with a sharp sound,
like brass which is struck upon. Again he saluted
him, sounding a third time. King Adrian heard, and
twice returned the salute.” There are two lines more,
nearly effaced, which appear to say that it was plain
that Adrian was much beloved by the Geds, since such
a favour was bestowed upon him.

The sort of sound thus described by Julia Camilla
gves far to support a conjecture of M. Langles on its
cause, which was in some degree anticipated by Strabo,
and has since received confirmation from a discovery
of Sir J. G. Wilkinson. It must be observed that
ancient hearers do not speak of the sound as metallic,
but rather vocal. Tacitus calls it sv, on the authority
of Germanicus. Pausanias likened it to what would
be produced by breaking a musical chord, such as a
harp-string. Strabo compared it to the sound made
by a slight blow, and he thought it was causcd by ar-
lifice. Several modern writers have been inclined to
attribute it to natural causes; and have supposed it
might be produced by the expansion of air in the in-
terstices of the stone at sun-rise, when the heat might
force it to the surface. This conjecture received sume
support from the fact that tones are actually produced
in those circumstances: Humboldt speaks of such as
sounding from the rocks on the banks of the Orinoko ;
the French expedition heard similar ones at Carnak ;
and Augustus St. John, while examining the temple of
Venus at Dendera, heard a Joud sound “ undonbtedly
the effect of heat.” M. Langles thought a few ham-
mers might be acted upon by an artifice of the Egyp-
tian priests to strike upon stones in the way some
Chinese musical instruments are said to be made, and
of which the Rock Harmonicon now in London is a
good specimen. In the year 1824 Sir J. G. Wilkin-
son mounted by the aid of a high ladder to the lap of
the statue, and when there he found thata large block
of grit-stone, fixed just above the girdle of the figure
sounded like brass on being struck. At that epoch he
Was not acquainted with the inscription of Julia Camilia,
and he could hardly suppose that the metallic sound
he then heard oould be that described as the breaking
and Babilius) mentioned by Seneca in the 4th book of ‘ Questions

on Natural History,’ as a Prefect of Egypt aud a learned man,
from whom he draws much of his infermation on that country.

1842. }

of a harp-string; though he had some suspicions,
which were strengthened by noticing a hollow cut in the
colossus quite large enough to conceal a man, within
reach of the sonorous block. <A few years after, being
made acquainted with the inscription, he determined
to try the effect on other persons, and with that view,
in the year 1830, he placed some Egyptian peasants at
the base of the statue, and again ascended to the girdle ;
as soon as he struck the rock, the people below cried
out, “You are striking brass.” This convinced the
discoverer of the truth of his conjecture.

If the voice of Memnon was produced by the disco-
vered block, the probability is that the imposture was
begun after the breaking of the colossus, and that
while it stood in its original unbroken state it uttered
no svund, as there would be no room for the block.
The deception might have been suggested by the acci-
dental sounding of a large stone placed for the purpose
of reparation, and it would soon be found profitable.
We cannot find that any ancient writer mentions the
silence of the statue before it was broken, but if one of
the inscriptions be read as suggested with some hesi-
tation by M. Letronne, there is reason to suppose that it
was so. He reads: ‘‘ Memnon was formerly entire, but
he was voiceless: now he is but a fragment, and he
speaks atsun-rise. People from all parts come to hear
and wonder.” Another inscription alludes to the
sound being changed when the statue was broken ; but
it represents the former as being a voice, and the latter
as an inarticulate sound, the mere remains of the other.
Some of the writers record their having heard the
sound several tiines, and one inquisitive person named
Hanicius Verus heard it no less than fourteen times in
the years 72 and 73. Some heard it twice in one day,
and others complain of their disappointment nniil after
twoor three days’ trial. Several essay bits of puetry,
not unlike what we find inthe albums kept at Niagara
or on Mount Vesuvius; and some make up a couplet
or two by scraps from Homer; but we find none of
which anything further need be said.

LEVEL LINES, AND THE PROCESS OF
LEVELLING.

Asonc the popular errors of which it is not easy to
divest oneself, is that relating to the nature of a
level line. Ninety-nine persons out of a hundred
would consider a level line to be precisely the samc as
a straight line, and a level surface the same asa flat
surface. When we hear of the “ summit level” ona
railway or canal, we are apt to think that this must be
a perfectly flat surface, neither concave nor convex at
any part. These opinions are, however, ecrroncous,
although the amount of the error is in practice so
small as to escape observation under ordinary cir-
cumstances. For the astronomer, and the engineer,
and the surveyor, however, the matter is one of great
importance, and it may not be here a waste of time to
explain how the error arises.

A level line ‘is one of which every purt is equidis-
tant from the centre of the earth; and as the earth is
nearly spherical, it follows that the line must partake
of the curvature of this sphere. The rim of a coach
wheel is a level line with reference to the nave which
forms the centre ; and the surface of a common school-
globe is a Jevel surface, in reference to the centre
round which it turns. These two examples will serve
to explain the source of the prevalent error on this
subject ; for the line in the one case, and the surface
in the other, are so obviously different from the straight
and the flat, that we cannot for a moment mistake
them ; but in the case of the surface of the earth, the
very largeness prevents our observance of the curva-
ture, and we have therefore not the means, in ordinary

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

391

circumstances, of detecting the difference between a
level line and a straight line, or between a level
surface and a flat surface. It is only in the open
ocean that the surface appears to sink in the distance,
thereby giving the true appearance of convexity to the
surface of the sea. The irregularities of the earth's
surface prevent this convexity from becoming ap-
parent on land; and thus the error, once imbibed, is
not easily removed.

The chief reason why a level line or surface is
regarded as one of importance in engineering, is
because water naturally tends to conform itself to a
common level—not to a flat surface, but to a convex
one, whose convexity is so slight as to escape common
observation. A level line one mile in length is raised
or convex in the middle to a height of about four
inches, and this small height must be scrupulously
attended to in engineering.

When a canal, a railroad, or any other great public
work is about to be constructed, in which a knowledge
of the inequalities of the ground is necessary, the
process of levelling is periormed somewhat in the
manner which we procced to explain. An instrument
called a level or a sptrit level is constructed by instru-
ment-makers, in which a telescope is ranged parallel
with a glass tube nearly filled with spirit. A bubble
of air occupies the small portion of the tube not filled
with the spirit; and this bubble maintains a position
exactly in the middle of the tube when the latter is
horizontal; so that the horizontality of the tube can
at any time be determined by the position of the air-
bubble. The telescope is so connected with the tube
by adjusting screws, that it can be made to conform
to the horizontality of the latter. There are many
other adjustments of much complexity in the instru-
ment; but it will be sufficient for us here to state that
the ultimate object of them is to ensure a perfect
horizontality in the telescope.

The surveyor looks through the horizontal telescope
at a mark some distance off, and this mark js so con-
structed as to show the height from the ground. The
mark is called by the several names of the /evelling-
staff, levelling-pole, station-pole, or station-staff, usually
the first ; it consists of a straight mahogany or oaken
staff, graduated into feet and inches, and having a vane
or conspicuous object capable of sliding up and down
it. A cross-line or a central spot in this vane is the
point to which the observer directs his telescope ; and
the graduations on the staff show how high the vane is
from the ground at the time when it is in a right line
with the telescope.

These being the chief instruments, the course of
proceeding is somewhat as follows :—Supposing a
distance of several miles is to be surveyed or
“ levelled,” the distance is divided into a number of
convenient portions, which are levelled one after
another. Pegs are driven into the ground at all these
stations, to indicate them more clearly; and three
stations are brought into use at once, viz., a central
one at which the telescope is placed, and two at equal
distances on either side of the former, at which level-
ing staves are erected by two assistants. The observer
places his telescope cxactly in the right line between
the two staves, and having adjusted it horizontally,
he looks through it to one of the staves, signallin
the assistant to raise or lower the vane on the staff
until the centre of the vane is visible through the
centre of the telescope. He then reverses the
telescope in its stand, and looks through it towards
the other levelling-staff, the vane of which he causes
to be raised or lowered in like manner. The
exact height of each vane above the ground is
then noted, by means of the graduations in the staff;
and if the two heights are equal, then the ground at

302

the two stations is of equal elevation; but if unequal,
then one station is higher than the other by the
difference indicated in the two staves. The two vanes,
when exactly in a straight line with the centre of the
telescope, are two points on a devel line, provided they
ure equidistant for the telescope; but if not equi-
distant, a compensation is afterwards to be made in
the choice of the distances of the next two stations.
The position of each vane, as determined on its staff,
becomes a standard in the next following observation,
so that the observer makes use of the data successively
afforded to him. He enters every result in a book,
such as the distances from station to station, the
descents in one direction, the ascents in the same
direction, &c. Certain delicacies of detail arising
from atmospherical refraction, and from the shape
of the earth being a spheroid instead of a sphere, we
need not here enter upon.

It might at first thought appear that as the telescope
cannot be quite level with the ground, an error must
arise froin assuming that asa standard of level; but
this is of no consequence whatever, so long as the
telescope is perfectly horizontal, the two stations
equidistant from it, and the two vanes so adjusted that
a straight line from one to the other would pass
through the centre of the telescope. These precau-
tions being attended to throughout, and all the ascents
being added up into one column, the descents in
another, and the difference taken, the difference of
level between two distant - points may be very
accurately determined.

We cannot better illustrate this subject than by no-
ticing a remarkable operation lately performed in
Devonshire, at the instance of the British Association.
At several of the meetings of the Association it was
suggested that the exact ‘icterinination of the relative
level of three points considerably distant from each
other on the coasts of this island might throw light
upon several important questions. Such a determi-
nation, it was represented, might especially be made
subservient to the solution of two important problems :
first, how far the position of the carth’s surface is per-
manent; and second, what ought to be understood by
the common expression, the ‘“‘ level of the sea.” For
if, as some geologists think, many parts of the earth’s
surface are slowly changing their position, such a
change is extremely difficult to prove or disprove by
observations made at any one point; but if three points
were at one time determined to be in one horizontal
surface, and were, at a subsequent period, found to be
at different heights, their relative elevations at the
second epoch would not only establish the fact of a
change in the position of the carth’s surface, but would
afford the means for calculating the extent of the
change. With regard to the “ level of the sea,” sur-
veyors and maritime men have been in the habit of
taking the surface of low-water at spring-tides to re-
present this level; but men of science have seen the
propriety of assuming a mean between high and low-
water as the standard. As the height of coasts is gene-
rally computed with reference to the “ level of the sea,”
it becomes important to determine what this level
really is.

With these objects in view, the British Association
appropriated the sum of 500/. to pay the expense of
evelling a portion of Devonshire, taking two points
on the shore of the Bristol Channel, and one on the
shore of the English Channel, and determining the
relative heights of these three points, not only with
respeet to each other, but with certain intermediate
stations, and also with respect to the mean level of the
sea. In the year 1837, Mr. Bunt of Bristol was em-
proyed to make the survey, which occupied a portion
of the summer months in that year and in 1838.

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

{OcToBER |»

As the object was to ascertain the relative heights of
particular spots, with a view to see whether those spots
ever afterwards may appear to rise or sink, the precise
fixation of these positions was an object of much mo-
ment, and was effected in the following manner :—
there are three stations on the shore of the British
Channel, at or near Portishead, Wick Rocks, and East
Quantockshead ; and one on the English Channel at
Axmouth. Just below the port at Portishead, a place
was selected in the solid rock on the shore, and in this
was inserted horizontally a cylinder of iron, two inches
diameter and fifteen inches long, containing in ils
centre a brass wire one-eighth of an inch in diameter,
which marks the position of the standard point, about
eight feet above the highest water-mark. The mark
at East Quantockshead consists of a block of granite,
a ton anda half weight (the gift of the corporation of
Bridgewater), in which is inserted horizontally a cop-
per cylinder, an inch and a half diameter and fourteen
inches long. A similar block of granite, witha similar
copper cylinder inserted horizontally in it, forms the
mark at Wick Rocks, and also that of Axmouth. In
every case, the gentlemen owning the property whcre
the marks are fixed have aided the Association in their
object, and have consented to become the guardians of
the respective standard marks on their cstates. Mr.
Whewell, in his Report of these proceedings, while
speaking of the icindriess and liberality thus shown,
remarks :—“ The marks of which this statement con-
tains the record may hereafter be of great consequence
in settling important questions of a scientific nature, if
their preservation be, as we donot doubt it will be,
kept in mind by the proprietors of the estates.”

As a means of comparing all these stations with one
common standard, Mr. Bunt commenced operations at
Bridgewater, and assumed as zero, or 0, a point one
hundred feet below the surface of the ground: in prin-
ciple, it would have been just the same to have taken
the level of the ground as a standard; but there were
certain practical advantages arising from the other
plan. The first station being determined, Mr. Bunt
proceeded as follows:—the distance from Portishead
to Axmouth, about seventy-four miles, was divided
into stages of about ten miles each; and these stages
were further broke up into smaller distances of about
four chains, or eighty-eight yards cach. The telescope
was placed cquidistant between two stations, at which
pegs were driven into the ground, and levelling-staves
erected onthe pegs. The observations were then made,
and so accurate were the instruments, that an elevation
of one of the vanes only 1-40th of an inch was per-
ceptible at a distance of eighty-cight yards! he
observations were repeated several times for the
avoidance of error, and every particular minutely re-
corded in a book. From each position of the telescope
two stations were viewed, the one eighty-eight yards
towards the north, and the other an equal distance
towards the south (or nearly so, on an average of the
whole); and the station last determined became a
standard for the next distance of one hundred and
seventy-six yards. The height of the ground at every
station was correctly entered, the highest being at
East Quantockshead, where the iron bar was two
hundred and six feet above the standard zero; and the
lowest at Axmouth, where the copper bar in the block
of granite was cighty-four feet above the standard.
From careful observations of the high and low tides in
the two channels, the level of mean water was found
to be about seventy-three fect above the standard.
The measurements are recorded in the ‘ Transactions”
of the Association to so minute a quantity as 1-10,000th
part of a foot, so that any dislocation will be readily
observable in future years.

1642.]

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(Italian Women at the Fountain.—From Pinelli.}

ROMAN PEASANTS.

No inconsiderable portion of the life of a Roman

aesana is spent at the fountain, or brook, or river-side.
Thither she goes morning and evening, for the supply
of water necessary to supply ber family, there she
washes her own and her husband's and children’s
clothes, and there ofttimes on the Sunday or Saint’s day
morning she completes her festal toilette, making the
clear water supply the place of a mirror. There too
she mects her neighbours and talks over the events of
the day, the humble but not always unexciting occur-
rences of the district (for the brigands are sometimes
abroad, or an old feud has broken out between this
village and that, and blows have been given and knives
drawn, or some wild buffaloes of the Pontine Marshes
have been killing their herdsmen). The fountain is to
the women what (in the larger villages) the barber’s
shop is to the men—the place for sauntering and gossip-
ing. In the days of old Rome the barbers were the
greatest gossips, and their shops the great gossiping

laces of Rome. They are so still. But the people of

etter condition—? galantuomini—in the small towns
‘and villages, where there are no coffec-houses, congre-
gate and gossip in the spezterte, or apothecaries’ shops.
Every evening some group or other is found collected
round the spot. The earthen vases, often so graceful
and so classical in their outline, are deposited upon
the stone brink, to be filled, one after the other, and
the women, giving themselves up tothe genius of the
place, discourse volubly, and faster than the water

No. 675.

flows. Now and then the picture is improved by the
arrival of some hind with his tall cream-coloured oxen
“ fatigued with the plough,” or of a shepherd or goat-
herd with his flock, or of some muleteer that stops to
slake his thirst and refresh his mules, or of the collect-
ing lay-brother of some Franciscan, Capuchin, or
other monastery of the mendicant orders, who is on his
way homeward, and must be home before the bells
have done chiming the ‘ Ave-Maria,’ but who, never-
theless, must find time to take his brsaccia, or begging-
bag, from his shoulders (well or ill filled according to
his luck, persuasiveness, or circumstances), to rest him-
self for a while, and commune with the matrons and
damsels clustering round the fountain. Scenes of this
sort constantly present themselves in the Roman states
and the Neapolitan kingdom, as also in the south of
Spain (where many of the fountains are works of the
oors) and (only with some trifling differences) in
Greece, Turkey, and all through the East. The foun-
tain, or the well—like that outside of the town of
Samaria, to which the woman with her water-pot
came to draw water, when “ Jesus, being wearied
with his journey, sat on the well,’—1is, in all these
countries, found outside of nearly every town and
village. It is here, after the heat of the dav, that the
village gossips congregate, “ Cum t1bi sol tepidus plures
erit aures,” or when the cooling sun calls forth

most listeners.
In the Roman states many of the fountains—though
the stone-work be injured and the sculpture on them
defaced—are at least as ancient as the days of Horace,

VoL. XI.—3 E

34 THE PENNY
are shaded by the tree he so much admired (the ilex), and
are worthy altogether of the praise he bestowed on the
Fons Bandusiz, whose water, clearer than glass (splen-
didior vitro), gushed, with a cooling sound, through
hollow rocks. As the bright but brief twilight fades
away, the women, collecting their washed clothes or
balancing their vases on their heads, walk homeward
with an erect gait, the gossips suspend their long
stories, and singly, or in little groups, the parties dis-
appear, with their Sunta Notte! or “ Good (or holy)
night to you !”

RAILWAY GOODS-TRAFFIC.

Among the arrangements which the railroad system
lias called into existence, the conveyance of merchan-
dize is one which does not come under the cognizance
of the majority of persons. The operations of procur-
inz a place by railway, proceeding by an omnibus to
the terminus, hastening to the proper carriage, passing
over the ground with a speed of twenty or thirty miles
an hour, and leaving the train at the destined station—
are now more or less familiar to most persons. But
the consignment to London of the manufactured pro-
ducts of Birmingham, or Manchester, or any other
large town, involves regulations almost wholly differ-
ent from those which govern passenger-traffic. Of this
system we will attempt to present a sketch.

An opinion pretty extensively prevails that the rail-
way coinpamies are the carriers of goods on their own
railways; but this is true only to a partial extent.
Three modes of procecding are adopted by different
railways in this respect:—1, as on the Grand Junction
Railway; the Company being their own carriers:
2,as on the London and Birmingham Railway; the
Company having nothing to doas carriers, but allowing
the eile carriers to use the papell on payment of a
certain toll: 3, as on a few minor railways in the north
of England, where both the other systems are combined,
the Company and the carriers competing one with
another. The comparative advantages and disadvan-
tages of these three systems form an intricate subject,
into which we do not propose to enter; both in com-
inittee-rooms of the House of Commons and in courts
of law, questions of much difficulty have arisen in
respect of one or other of these systems. It happens,
however, that on the railway which forms the great
artery between the metropolis and the manufacturing
districts, viz. the London and Birmingham, the system
of open competition is adopted ; and the very nature
of this competition,-coupled with the immense extent
of the daily traffic to the metropolis, render this
railway a peculiarly advantageous one for watching the
communicating machinery which links the Manchester
or Birmingham manufacturer with the London ware-
houseman or merchant.

The noble terminus of the London and Birmingham
Railway near Euston Square is for passenger and lug-
gace traffic only; none of the heavier goods are brought
so tar down the line, but are Ieft at the Camden Town
station, about a mile distant. Whoever has watched
the graceful curve of the railway from Primrose Hill,
or from any elevated spot in the vicinity, may have
seen a long train of carriages emerge from the tunnel,
and proceed under the next bridge. They then take
a southern course, to the spot where the two lofty
chimneys are situated ; here the engine is detached, an
ra is given to the carriages, and they descend the
inclined plane from thence to Euston Square by virtue
of the natural effect of gravity. The trains containing
the goods-waggons, however (which are distinct from
the paszenger-trains), proceed from the railway some-
what castward, into a large area of ground intersected
by pairs of rails in every direction. Here we lose

MAGAZINE. [OcToBER 8,
sight of them; and it is only by approaching nearer
to the scene that we can witness the subsequent pro-
ceedings. It is the separation of the goods from the
assenger traffic at this spot which renders the former
ess generally familiar, and the system by which it
is governed less generally known.

On proceeding to the eastern side of the railway,
near the western end of Park Street, Camden Town, a
road called the Oval Road leads to the extensive.
depét of the Company. Here the number of goods-
waggons or trucks seems to be almost endless: on
every side they are ranged in rows, more or less
numerous according to the period of the day. In some
parts of the open area are various premises belonging
to the Company, such as engine-houses, coal-sheds,
repairing-shops, &c.; while in other parts are ware-
houses appropriated to the various Carriers who trans-
act business with the Company. The general principle
on which these transactions are based is the follow-
ing :—that the Company lend the use of the railway,
and provide waggons, locomotive power, and ware-
houses; the carrier paying a rent for the warehouse,
and a certain toll on every ton of goods for the
use of the railway, the waggons, aud the locomotive
power.

In the instance of one of these carriers, however,
viz. the firm of Messrs. Pickford and Co., a large
depot or warehousc has been built by the firm, and is
held independent of theCompany. Tracks of rails are
laid down by the Railway Company in various direc-
tions, to lead to the different carriers’ warehouses, as a
means of bringing the laden waggons close up to the
places where they are to be unladen. Each carrying-
firm is thus enabled to transact the business of its own
customers without interfering with the rest ; and all are
alike dependent on the Company forthe use of the
railway and waggons, and for locomotive power. In
the infancy of railway communication it was expected,
and the legislature seeins to have designed, that the
railways should be, lke canals and turnpike-roads,
open to all who would pay an adequate tol], and who
might provide their own engines and carriages on the
railway, as they do horses and coaches on roads, or
horses and boats on canals. It was not contemplated
that the companies should have the matter so com-
pletely in their own hands as to have no other engines,
and consequently no other trains, on the railroad, than
those which belong to themselves. The experience of
years has, however, shown that the lives of passengers
would be placed in the most imminent peril unless
the locomotive engines on a railroad were all placed
ey under one superintendence and manage-
ment, to be sent backwards and forwards at such times
as would not only be commercially convenient, but as
would also prevent a liability to collision or other
accident. But such a superintendence could hardly
be exerted if the engines belonged to different persons,
each of whom would naturally wish to make arrange-
ments most suitable to his individual trade ; and hence
it has resulted that the companies have practically a
monopoly where none was intended. A Comnnittee of
the House of Commons, although it has suggested
various checks upon the companies, has not proposed
to interfere in respect to the proprietorship of the
engines ; and the carriers, therefore, one and all, have
to pay the companies for the use of locomotive power.
Tt 1s for this reason, among others, that the Company’s
gage must necessarily be that of the carriers
also.

The above particulars relate to the position in which
carriers stand to the railway; but the system requires
for its due comprehension that we should follow the
practical workings of one of the carriers’ establish-

ments, The firm of Pickford and Co, have kindly

1842.]

allowed us to witness the practical arrangements of
their establishment with this object.

The depét of this firm at Camden Town has been
recently built from the designs of Mr. L. Cubitt, with
express reference to the requirements of railway
traffic, as the depot in the City-road has been for canal
traffic. There are two distinguishing features in its
general arrangement, viz. the accommodations for
receiving railway waggons, to be laden for the ‘ down’
pessige or unladen for the ‘ up’ passage; and those

or common road-waggons, employed either anterior
or subsequent to the railway transit. The ‘down’
trade from London, and the ‘ up’ trade to London, are
60 totally distinct, that the arrangements of the ware-
house, the clerks, the porters, &c., are divided into two
sections, irrespectiveof eachother. This being under-
stood, we shall be able to speak more clearly of the
several arrangements for the ‘ up’ and ‘ down’ traffic.

On viewing the depét from without, we find it to be
a large roofed building, bounded on the north by the
Regent's Canal, and on the west by open ground conti-
guous to the railway, while its eastern front is in the
road by which most of the carriers approach the Com-
pany’s depét. The building is placed in connexion
with the railway bya bridge passing from the northern
end over the canal to a rail-track which joins the Com-
pany’s rails. Withinside the building presents a busy
assemblage of the various arrangements incidental to
such an establishment. At the southern end are the
chief offices and counting-houses, one for ‘up’ and
another for ‘down’ traffic; at the eastern side is the
entrance by which waggons are drawn by horses into
or out of the building; at the northern end is the en-
trance for the railway waggons, and on the westcrn
side is a temporary enclosure, to be removed ona
future enlargement of the building.

Nearly from end to end of the building extends a
platform, about five feet above the general level of the
warchouse; and from this platform we can obtain a
good view of the general disposition of the interior.
All on the eastern side of the platform, as well as the
eastern half of the platform itself, are appropriated to
the ‘up’ traffic; while all on the western relate to the
‘down. From the eastern edge of the platform pro-
ject a number of piers, or standing-places, on the same
level with it; and between these waggons can be
drawn up to be laden. A range of about adozen posts
extends down the line; each is inscribed with the
‘name of one of a series of districts into which London is
divided—for a purpose which we shall explain by-and-
by. Lamps are suspended between all the posts, so as to
throw down light on the waggons beneath ; and clerks’
desks and weighing-machines are provided at different
parts of the length of the platform. Between the

latform and the eastern wall there is room sufficient
for laden waggons to be drawn in and out, or to be ad-
justed to any position which may be necessary, and to
be deposited during the interval which elapses between
the unlading of a‘ down’ load and4he lading of an ‘ up.’

When we cross the central platform to its western
or ‘down’ side, we find arrangements of a very different
character.’ Here everything is adapted to the recep-
tion of railway-waggons, instead of common road-wag-
gons. The floor is principally made of cast-iron ; and
along it, from end to end, runs a railway or track of
rails. At every few yards in the length of this railway
occurs a circular turn-plate, one of those admirable
contrivances for turning a heavy waggon or carriage
Gn a railway. To explain the use of these we may re-
mark that the western side of the platform is at these
places indented with two recesses obliquely situated,
and each capable of holding a railway-waggon. On
another platform, too, beyond the rails, are two similar
recesses, Each turn-plate is furnished with three pairs

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398

of rails, at equal angles apart, so that, when a waggon
is standing on one of the plates, it is at one time in a
position to proceed northward or southward along the
railway ; or, by turning the plate round an angle of 60°,
the waggon is in a position to enter one of the recesscs,
Thus, by the aid of each turn-plate four waggons may
be turned into as many recesses, aud the railway still
left open.

The north end of the warchouse is provided with two
arallel railways, similar to that just described; one
or the ‘up’ and the other for the ‘down’ trade ; and

both provided with turn-plates at all necessary points.
Here, too, overhead, is a wooden arch to act as a
gauge for the heights of all the arches and tunnels of
the railroad, to guard against any waggon being laden
to too great a height. There is also a trap-door and
the necessary machinery for lowering goods into the
canal, over which the northern end of the warchouse
projects.

The whole of this extensive warchouse is built upon
arches, supported by picrs of enormous thickness, to
bear the weight of the laden waggons. When we
descend to the basement or vaults, we find here a fine
large series of stabling for upwards of a hundred
horses, the greater part of which are frequently here at
one time. The stables are lighted with gas, and kept
well warmed and ventilated; they are divided into
sections, each of which is provided with a pump or
cistern, a harness-room, &c. A veterinary-room 1s
provided for the ‘ professional adviser’ of the horses ;
and a portion of the stabling is set off as a ‘sick-box’
for the invalids.

There is also an underground kitchen, of which we
shall say more hereafter ; and a portion of the vaults is
set apart for hanging-up and drying the canvas covers
for the waggons. At the extreme southern end of the
warehouse is an inclined path, leading from the level
of the road to the level of the stables; down which the
horses walk when released from the waggons.

Such are the general dispositions of the various parts
of the depét. During the day-time all is silent and
still; but all night a scene of bustle is going on, which
we shall attempt to describe in another paper.

Social Hatts of the Mule in the Cordilleras.—Our manner of
travelling was delightfully independent. In the inhabited parts
we bought a little firewood, hired signs for the animals, and
bivouacked in the same field.with them. Carrying an iron pot,
we cooked and eat our supper under the cloudless sky, aud
knew no trouble. My companions were Mariano Gonzales, who
had formerly accompanied me, and ‘an ¢ arriero, with his ten
mules and a madrina.’ The madrina (or godmother) is a most
important personage. She is an old steady mare, with a little
bell round her neck; and wheresoever she goes, the mules, like
good children, follow her. If several large troops are turned into
one field to graze, in the morning the muleteer has only to lead
the madrinas a little apart and tinkle their bells; and although
there may be two or three hundred mules together, each imme-
diately knows its own bell, and el itself from the rest.
The affection of these animals for their madrinas saves infinite
trouble. It is nearly impossible to lose an old mule; for if
detained for several hours by force, she will, by tne power of
smell, like a dog, track out her companions, or rather the ma-
drina; fur, according to the muleteer, she is the chief object of
affection. The feeling, however, is not of an individual nature ;
for I believe I am right in saying that any animal with a bell
will serve as a madrina. In a troop each animal carries, on a
level road, a cargo weighing 416 pounds (more than twenty-nime
stone); but in a mountainous country, a hundred pounds less.
Yet with what delicate slim limbs, without any proportional
bulk of muscle, these animals support so great a burden! The
mule always appears to me a most surprising animal. That a
hybrid should possess more reason, memory, obstinacy, social
affection, and powers of muscular endurance, than either of its
parents, seems to indicate that art has here outmastered nature,
— Voyages of the Adventure and Beagle—Mr. Darwin's Journatand
Remarks.

3E 2

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[OcToseER 8,

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S322 ee

(Kingston, Western Canada.—From a Drawing by Mrs. Simcoe, taken during the First American War.]

KINGSTON.

Tue obscurity which envelops the earliest history of
our most ancient towns is one of the causes which ren-
ders the study of topographical antiquities so extremely
interesting in this country. Some of the cities and
towns of England have existed during eighteen cen-
turies, and the greater part of them, as well as of the
villages and even hamlets, have been the dwelling-
places of successive generations for above a thousand
years. But how little we know of the circumstances
under which they were first planted! In some cases a
few coins, or weapons, or relics of domestic utensils,
show that the place had a Roman origin. In others
the mere mention of the spot in ancient records is all
we know of its earliest existence. How different will
be the case in respect to the history of the cities and
towns which are now multiplying in every direction in
the United States and in British North America! No
fabulous story will ever obscure their real origin. A
thousand years hence the names of the first builders of
the city, the very circumstances under which it was
founded, and the records of every important event
connected with its rise, will have been handed down
with the minuteness of contemporary history. ee

raphy must then be studied in a different spirit. The
fife of past generations can never cease to be interest-
ing; and as the spirit of investigation will not rest
satisfied with dates, it will seek fresh subjects of in-
quiry in connection with the past. —

Kingston, of which we give a view taken soon after
it came into the possession of the English, is an ancient
settlement, that 1s, ancient for the New World. Here,
in the seventeenth century, the French missionaries
established a post, in order that they might be in the
midst of the Iroquois. The nature of the position was
seen to be so important, that it was soon made use of
for more secular purposes, and a large fort with four
bastions was erected by the French governor-general of
Canada, with a view of commanding the interior. In
1830 there still remained a tower and a triangular
building which surmounted one of the bastions,
enough to show the strength of the old fort. The mis-

sionaries had given the name of Cataraqui to their
Christian outpost, but when it was converted into
a fortress its name was changed to that of Frontenac.
the governor-general under whose orders it was built.
Lake Ontario was called after the same person. Now,
neither the site of the ancient fort nor that of the
grand inland sea bears his name. The former was
changed to Kingston when Canada fell into the hands
of the British in 1760, and the lake is known by its
expressive native name, which signifies “the Beautiful
Lake.” Kingston, which was settled partly by Ame-
rican loyalists after the close of the war of independ-
ence, was for some time the capital of Upper Canada,
more properly called, since the union of the two pro-
vinces, Western Canada. The provincial seat of govern-
ment was next transferred to York, now called Toronto ;
but since the union Montreal has been chosen as the
chief seat of the executive and legislative bodies for
both provinces. Toronto, near the western extremity
of Lake Ontario, Kingston on its eastern shores, near
where the St. Lawrence opens into the great lake,
with Montreal and Quebec, constitute the four most
important cities of Eastern and Western Canada.
They are each admirably situated for commerce.
Quebec is the key of the maritime part of the St.
Lawrence; Montreal is the centre of the commerce
between Eastern Canada and the United States, and is
the seaport of the western province ; and Kingston is
a most important entrepdt between Western Canada
and the seaports of Montreal and Quebec. If Lake
Huron were united to Ontario by a canal from Toronto,
through Lake Simcoe, it would also become the centre
of a large trade; and as it is, the flow of emigration
west of Lake Ontario has already rendered it a place
of extensive business. Quebec is 400 miles from the
mouth of the St. Lawrence; Montreal is 180 miles
from Quebec; Kingston is 258 miles from Montreal,
by the Rideau and Grenville canals; and Toronto is
166 miles from Kingston. But by means of canals the
area of communication with each place is greatly
extended. The Welland canai, forty-two miles long,
by avoiding the Falls of Niagara, opens an uninter-
rupted navigation between Lakes Erie and Ontario

1842.]

The Rideau canal, 135 miles in length, begins at
Kingston, and unites the Ottawa river with Lake
Ontario. There are canals both from Lake Eric and
Ontario which open a direct communication with New
York by the Hudson river. A canal commencing at
Cleveland, on Lake Erie, communicates with the
Illinois river, and consequently with the Mississippi and
the Gulf of Mexico, which is thus united by inland
navigation with the Gulf of St. Lawrence. Nocountry
in the world possesses such magnificent lines of
internal transport, and the industry and commercial
activity which they are calculated to develop will
become enormous as the population increases. At
Chilicothe, in Ohio, 280 miles south of Cleveland, the
farmer sells his wheat at 2s. 6d. a bushel, and it is
carried by canal to Cleveland, on the south-western
shores of Lake Erie, where, if the price at Chilicothe
be 2s. 6d. the bushel, it is sold at 3s. 6d., and purchased
on account of the merchants of Kingston and Montreal,
at which latter place the bushel, originally purchased
for 2s. 6d. is usually disposed of for 5s. Gd. But for these
meaus of transport the farmer in the centre of Ohio
would be unable to exchange the raw produce of the
soil for articles of luxury and secondary necessity.
South of Chilicothe all the chief products of agriculture
are sent to New Orleans, just in the same way that the
shipping demands for corn for the ports of the Black
Sea and of the Baltic encounter each other in the heart
of Poland. The future greatness of the four great
Canadian cities is rapidly rising, in consequence of the
facilities of transport which they command, and the
rowing attractions which Canada offers to emigrants
rom the United Kingdom. The population of the
two united provinces is now, according to the best
calculation, 1,250,000, and a stream of immigration is
pouring into thein at a rate varying from thirty to
fifty thousand persons a ycar.

The approach to Kingston from Montreal is very
interesting. The river, which from Montreal to its
opening into Lake Ontario changes its name from the
St. Lawrence to the Cataraqui, has the appearance of
a lake, and is studded with one thousand six hundred
and ninety-two islets. This part is called the Lake of
the Thousand Isles. Opposite the city the river is di-
vided into two channels by Wolfe or Long Island, the
centre of which forms an elevated ridge, covered by a
magnificent furest. The town is situated on the
western bank of a short estuary, into which the Rideau
canal communicates. Point Heury, a promontory
rising one hundred feet above the level of the lake,
and crowned with strong fortifications, commanding a
narrow channel of the river, is on the opposite side of
the estuary. A dangerous shoal renders it necessary
to make a considerable sweep before entering the well-
sheltered harbour, in the course of which the town,
with the public storehouses, built of white stone, the
barracks, and other public buildings, become visible ;
and Navy Bay, the depdt of the naval force on the lakes,
is passed. The houses extend above a mile and a half
along the shores of the lake, which form a gentle
acclivity, the summit of which consists of a plateau of
limestone rock, from which there is a magnificent
view, embracing the lake, the river, the islands, and
forests. A wooden bridge, built in fifteen feet water,
and six hundred yards long, is thrown across the
estuary. Vessels drawing fifteen feet water come close
to the wharfs, and Kingston is a principal rendezvous
of the large steamers which navigate Lake Ontario.
The principal streets are sixty-six feet wide, and run
froin north to south and from east to west, and are soon
dry after the heaviest rains, in consequence of the fa-
vourable nature of the site. The fortifications have
been excavated from the granite and limestone rock,
and are striking from their solidity and extent, Among

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397

the most important public buildings are the provincial
enitentiary and a large public hospital. The popu-
ation, which was 3500 in 1828, is now about 6000.

NOXIOUS EFFECTS OF IMPROPER
HABITATIONS.
(From Mr. Chadwick's Report on the Sanitary Condition of-Great
Britain.)

Ir became evident in the progress of the inquiry
that several separate circumstances had each its sepa-
rate moral as well as physical influence. Thus tene-
ments of inferior construction had manifestly an injuri-
ous Operation on the moral as well as on the sanitary
condition, independently of any overcrowding. For
example, it appears to be matter of common observa-
tion, in the instance of migrant families of workpeuple
who are obliged to occupy inferior tenements, that
their habits soon become “ of a piece” with the dwell-
ing. A gentleman who has observed closely the con-
dition of the workpeople in the south of Cheshire and
the north of Lancashire, men of similar race and educa-
tion, working at the same description of work, namely,
as cotton-spinners, mull-hands, and earning nearly the
same amount of wages, states Uiat the workmen of the
north of Lancashire are obviously inferior to those in
the south of Cheshire in health and habits of personal
cleanliness and general condition. The difference is
traced mainly to the circunistance that the labourers
in the north of Lancashire inhabit stone houses of a
description that absorb moisture, the dampness of
which affects the health, and causes personal unclean-
liness, induced by the difficulty of keeping a clean
house. The operation of the same deteriorating in-
fluences were also observable in Scotland, and it may
be illustrated by several instances which I have met
with in the course of my own personal inquiries.

One of the circumstances most favourable to the im-
provement‘of the condition of an artisan or an agricul-
tural labourer is his obtaining as a wile a female who
has had a good industrial training in the well-regulated
household of persons of a higher condition. The fol-
lowing instance of the effect of the dwelling itself on
the condition of a female servant when married was
brought to my notice by a member of the fainily in
which the aad been brought up. One was of a young
woman who had been taught the habits of neatness,
order, and cleanliness most thoroughly as regards
household work.

“Her attention to personal neatness,” says a lady
whois my informant, “ was very great; her face seemed
always as if it were just washed, and with her bright
hair neatly combed underneath her snow-white cap, a
smooth white apron, and her gown and handkerchief
carefully put on, she used to look very comely. After
a year or two, she married the servingman, who, as he
was retained in his situation, was obliged to take a
house as near his place as possible. The cottages in
the neighbourhood were of the most wretched kind,
mere hovels. built of rough stones and covered with
ragged thatch; there were few even of these, so there
was no choice, and they were obliged to be content
with the first that was vacant, which was in the most
retired situation. After they had been married about
two years, I happened to be walking past one of these
miserable cottages, and, as the door was open, I had
the curiosity to enter. I found it was the home of the
servant I have been describing. But what a change
had come over her! Her face was dirty, and her tan-
gled hair hung over her eyes. Her cap, though of
good materials, was il] washed and slovenly put on.
Her whole dress, though apparently good and service-
able, was very untidy, and looked dirty and slatternly ;
everything indeed about her scemcd wretched and

398

neglected (except her little child), and she appeared
very discontented. She seemed aware of the change
there must be in her appearance since I had Jast seen her,
for she immediately began to complain of her house.
The wet caine in at the door of the only room, and, when it
rained, through every part of the roof also, except just
over the hearth-stone ; large drops fell upon her as she
lay in bed, or as she was working at the window: in
short, she had found it impossible to keep things in
order, so had gradually ceased to make any exertions.
Her condition had been borne down by the condition
of the house. Then her husband was dissatisfied with
his home and with her; his visits became less frequent,
and if he had been a day-labourer, and there had been
a beer-shop or ,a public-house, the preference of that
to his home would. have been inevitable, and in the one
instance would have presented an example of a multi-
tude of cases.

‘¢She was afterwards, however, removed to a new
cottage, which was water-tight, and had sume conveni-
ences, and was built close to the road, which her former
mistress and all her friends must constantly pass along.
She soon resuined, ina great degree, her former good
habits, but still there wasa little of the dazdle left about
her—the remains of the dispiritedness caused by her
furmer very unfavourable circumstances.”

Here, as in most other cases, the internal economy
of the houses was primarily affected by the defec-
tive internal and surrounding drainage, that produced
the damp and wet, and thence the dirt, against which
the inmates had ceased to contend. On inquiry of the
male labourers in the district, it appeared that almost
every third man was subiected to rheumatism; and
with them it was evident that the prevalence of damp
and marsh miasma from the want of drainage, if it did
not necessitate, formed a strong temptation to, the use
of ardent spirits. With them, as with the females, the
wretched condition of the tenement forined a strong
barrier against personal cleanliness and the use of
decent clothes.

In the rural districts the very defects of the cottages,
which Iet in the fresh air in spite of all the efforts of
the inmates to exclude it, often obviate the effects of
the overcrowding and defective ventilation. It has
been observed that, while the Jabouring population of
several] districts have had no shelter but huts similar
to those described by Dr. Gilly as the habitations of
the border peasantry, which afforded a free passage
for currents of air, they were not subject to fevers,
though they were to rheumatism; but when, through
the good intentions of the proprietors, such habitations
were provided as were deemed more comfortable from
excluding the weather effectually, but which from
the neglect of ventilation afforded recesses for stagnat-
ing air, and impurities which they had not the means
or had nota sufficient love of cleanliness to remove,
though rheumatisin was exciuded, febrile infection was
generated. In the towns the access of the wind is im-
peded by the closen:ss of the surrounding habitations,
and the internal construction of the dwellings tends to
exclude the air still more effectually. Were the closed
windows opened, it would frequently be only to admit
a worse compound, the air from neglected privies, and
the miasma from the wet and undrained court or
strect.

The close pent-up air in these abodes has, un-
doubtedly, a depressing effect on the nervous energics,
and this again, with the uneducated, and indeed with
many of the educated workpeople, has an effect on the
moral habits by acting asa strong and often irresistible
provocative to the use of fermented liquors and ardeut
spirits. Much may be due to the incitement of associa-
tion of greater numbers of people, but it is a common
fact that the same workpeople indulge more in drink

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

[Ocrozer 8,

when living in the close courts and lanes of the town
than when living in the couutry, and that the residence
in the different places is attended with a difference of
effects similar to those described in respect to the
tailors working in crowded rooms in towns and the
tailors working scparately or in the couutry. The
workpeople who have fallen into habits of drinking
strenuously allege the impossibility of avoiding the
practice in such places; they do, however, drink in
greater quantities in such places, and give tcreased
effect to the noxious miasma by which they are sur-
rounded.

Michaelmas Goose.—There is an old custom still in use among
us, of having a roast goose to dinucr on Michaelmas Day.
(;o0se-intentos,” as Blount tells us, isa word used in Lanca-
shire, where “ the husbandmen claim it as a due to have a gouse-
intentos on the sixteenth Sunday after Pentecost ; which custom
took origin from the last word of the old church-prayer of that
day :—‘ Tua, nos queesumus, Domine, gratia semper preveniat
et sequatur; ac bovis operibus jugiter prastct esse infentos.’
The common people very humorously mistake it for a goose with
fen toes.” This 1s by no means satisfactory. Beckwith, in his
new edition of the ‘ Jocular Tenures,’ p. 223, says upon it,—
“ But, besides that the sixteenth Sunday after Peutecost, or after
Trinity rather, being moveable, and seldom falling upon Mi-
chaelmas Day, which is an immoveable feast, the service for that
day could very rarely be used at Michaelinas, there docs not
appear to be the most distant allusion to a goose in the words of
that prayer. Probably no other reason can be given for this
custom but that Michaelmas Day was a great festival, and
geese at that time most ae alae In Denmark, where the har-
vest is later, every family has a roasted goose for supper on St.
Martin's Eve. ‘ Among other services (in this country), Jolin
de la Hay was bound to render to William Barnaby, lord of
Lastres, in the county of Hereford, for a parcel of the demesue
lands, one goose fit for the lord's dinner on the Feast of St. Mi-
chael the Archangel; and.this, as carly as the tenth year of
King Edward the Fourth.” Mr. Douce says,—“I have some-
where seen the following reasons for eating goose on Michac]lmas
Day, viz. that Queen Elizabeth received the news of the defeat
of the Spanish Armada whilst she was cating a goose on Mi-
chaelmas Day, and that in commemoration of that event she ever
afterwards on that day dined on a goose.” But this appears
rather to bea strong proof that the custom prevailed even at
court in Queen Elizabeth's time. We have just seen that it was
in use in the tenth year of King Edward 1V. The subsequent
shows it to have been in practice in Queen Elizabeth's reigu
before the event of the Spanish defeat. In the Posies of George
Gascoigne, Esq., 4to. 1575, ‘ Flowers,’ p. 40, is the following
passage i—

“Aud when the tenauntes come to paie their quarter’s rent,

They bring some fowle at Midsummer, a dish of fish in
Lent ;

At Christmasse a capon, at Michaelinas A GOOSE,

Aud somewhat else at New-yere's tide, for feare their kase
Jlie loose.”

A pleasant writer in the periodical paper called ‘The World,’
No. 10 (if I mistake not, the late Lord Orford), remarking on
the effects of the alteration of the style, tells us,—* When the
reformation of the calendar was in agitation, to the great disgust
of many worthy persons, who urged how great the harmony was
in the old establishment between the holidays and their attributes
(if 1 may call them so), and what confusion would follow if
Micnaetmas Day, for instance, was not to be celebrated when
stubble-geese are in their highest perfection; it was replied, that
such a propriety was merely imaginary, and would lost of
itself, even without any alteration of the calendar by authority ;
for if the errors in it were suffered to go on, they would, ina
certain number of years, produce sucha variation, that we should
be mourning for good King Charles on a false 30th of January,
at a time when our ancestors used to be tumbling over head and
heels in Greenwich Park in honour of Whitsuntide; and at
length be choosing king and queen for Twelfth-night when we
ought to be admiring ‘The London Prentice’ at Bartholomew
Fair.” It is a popular saying, “If you eat goose on Michaelmas
Day, you will uever want money all the year round.” Geese
are eaten by plonghmen at harvest-home.—Brand’s Popxcasr

| Antiquities, new edit. by Sir H. Elks,

1$12.]

THE BONNET-MONKEY

Is a native of the Malabar coast, and not of China, as
the very objectionable name of Chinese Bonnet, applied
to it by Buffon, would seem to indicate. Colonel
Sykes informs us that it is called waanur by the
Marhattas, and inhabits the woods of the Western
Ghauts in small troops or families. It is probably this
species which extends throughout the whole of the
peninsula of India, and 1s held in the saine veneration
in these parts as the Entellus and Rhesus in Bengal
and the upper provinces. No species is more com-
monly brought into England, and exhibited about the
streets or in our menagcries, than the Toque. It is of
a uniform greenish-dun colour on the upper parts of
the body; the breast, belly, and inner face of the arms
and thighs being light dun or grey, and the face, cars,
and hands naked and of a dirty flesh-colour. But the
mark which immediately distinguishes the specics is a
copious and peculiar tuft of Jong dark hair, which
grows from the crown of the head, and spreads round
on all sides like rays from a common centre. This
hair does not stand erect in the toque, but lies flatly
along the head, like the diminutive wigs called scalps,
which bald persons sometimes wear on the centre of
the crown; and it is the peculiar appearance which it

ives the animal that has suggested the name of the

onnet- Monkey, by which it has long been known.

This animal has been confounded with the cercopithe-
cus pileatus; but British naturalists, in particular,
have no excuse for falling into this error, for our inti-
mate relations with India bring both species frequently
into this country ; and we have ourselves seen at least
ten living specimens of the cercopithecus pileatus, and
probably five times that number of cercopithecus radia-
tus, in the different British menageries, within the Jast
eight or nine years. Their colour at once distinguishes
the two animals: the toque, or bonnet Chinois (cerco-
pithetus radiatus), 18, as we have already seen, of a

reenish-dun colour, and has the long hair on the crown

iverging from a common centre, and closely applied
to the skull; the cercopithecus pileatus, on the contrary,
is of a deep chestnut or rusty-brown colour, with the
long hair of the head standing erect like an upright
crest; besides which it has a peculiar and appropriate
character, in the rim of the under lip being of a deep
black colour, which forms a remarkable contrast wit
the light tan colour of the surrounding parts, and is
alone sufficient to distinguish this animal from all
others of the monkey tribe. The forcheads of both
species are curiously furrowed with deep transverse
wrinkles, which are even more apparent in young than
in aged specimens, and give the animals a singularly
ludicrous resemblance to an old Indian woman; a re-
semblance still further increased, in the toque espe-
cially, by the habit of squatting upon its hams and
crossing the arms upon its breast or resting them on
the knees.

No monkey affords greater amusement in mena-
geries than the Bonnet-Chinois; and the imperturbable
gravity with which it accompanies all its actions is
truly diverting. When young, it is sufficiently gentle
and familiar, and may be instructed to perform every
action that monkey genius is capable of aspiring to.
It is indescribably droll to see these animals, when two
or three of them are together, hugging, and nursing
each other, or kindly performing the office of combs,
and searching through one another's fur, with the
most Jaudable assiduity, for fleas and other vermin. But
the penchant of the toque for nursing is not confined
to its own species: when only one of these animals
happens to be possessed by a menagerie, a kitten is
very frequently given to it as a companion, and nothing
can exceed the ridiculous caricature of humanity which

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

399

it presents,—pettiug, nursing, and hugeing the un-
fortunate kitten, at the imminent risk of choking ‘it,
with all the gravity and fondness that a little child will
display in similar circumstances. Thus it will con-
tinue for hours together, to the manifest annoyance of
the object of its solicitude, who, howcver, 1s in no con-
dition to escape from the loving embrace, as the least
attempt at resistance to the arbitrary will of the teque
is followed by prompt and sometimes severe punishi-
ment. We recollect in one instance witnessing a
singular and Jaughable instance of this description. A
bonnet-monkcy, exhibited in a travelling caravan, had
a cat of considerable size to keep it company in its
confinement. Puss, at the moment when our story
commences, happening to feel somewhat drowsy, as
cats will sometimes do, even in the presence of their
betters, had retired to the back and quietest part of
the cage, and composed herself to have a comfortable
nap. Pug, however, was neither inclined to sleep
himscelf nor to Jet any one else do so within his range ;
he therefore selected a stiff straw and amused himself
by poking it up the cat's nose, which, after bear'ng
this annoyance for some time with exemplary stoicism,
at length lost all patience, and gave her tormenter a
smart scratch on the face with her not very velvet
paw. This was more than the offended dignity of the
monkey could brook ; he seized the unfortunate culprit
by the tail, and, flying like lightning to the top of the
cage, there held her suspended between heaven and
earth, like Mahoinct’s coffin, and with something
worse than the sword of Damocles over her, whilst he
inflicted upon her such a series of cuffs and pinclies,
as no doubt warned her in future to be on her good
behaviour.

But though, gencrally speaking, thus gentle and
amusing in youth, the toque is extremely irascible,
and ever ready to take offence on the slightest occasion.
This is particularly apparent when it 1s tantalised by
offering and then wit folding any species of food; and
it is ludicrous upon such occasions to witness the
scrious anger which is depicted in its countenance,
whilst it pouts with its lips, looks fixedly in your face,
and mutters a Jow complaint, or suddenly darts out its
hand and endeavours to scratch you.— Even when not
thus provoked, however, it is always precipitate in its
actions, and snatches with hasty rudeness the food
which is offered to it, never pausing to eat it at the
moment, but stowing it away in its capacious check-
pouches, and begging with pouting lips and out-
stretched arms for a further supply. So long as the
visitors continue to give, it never refuses to receive;
and it is only when the offerings are exhausted that
it retires to a corner, and, emptying its reservoirs with
the assistance of the bent knuckles pressed upon the
outside of the cheeks, devours their contents piecc-
meal, and is ready to fill them again from the liberality
of the next comer.

When adult, the toque becomes excessively sullen
and morose, and the deeply sunk eyes and projecting
supcrorbital crests give him an aspect of gloomy
ferocity which accords but too truly with his natural
disposition, and warns the visitor against pneged tn)
a familiarity which is not likely to be reciprocated.

Of the Cercopithecus pileatus we have never seen the
adult male, nor do we even know the particular locality
which the species inhabits. It is most probable, how-
ever, that its habitat is cither more remote or less
frequented by Europeans than that of the toque,
since the animal is more rarely brought to England.
In youth it resembles the toque in manners and
disposition, but is gentler and less petulant, and in
this respect appears to approach the smaller African
cercopithecs and agave iva It may possibly be
this species which inhabits Ceylon, and which has

400 THE PENNY

given origin to the supposition that the toque, like
the wanderoo, is found both in that island and on the
continent.

We know little of the habits of the toque in its wild
state, if it be not the species mentioned by Buchanan
in his admirable ‘ Journey through Mysore, Canara,
and Malabar,’ and which he describes as a great
nuisance to the gardens and plantations of the natives.
‘The monkeys and squirrels,” says he, “are very
destructive, but it is reckoned criminal to kill either of
them. They are under the immediate protection of
the ddséries, who assemble round any person guilty of
this offence, and allow him no rest until he bestows on
the animal a funeral] that will cost from one to two
hundred fanams, according to the number of ddséries
that have assembled. The proprietors of the gardens
used formerly to hire a particular class of men, who
took these animals in nets, and then by stealth con-
veyed them into the gardens of some distant village ;
but as the people there had recourse to the same means
of getting rid of them, all parties have become tired of
this practice. If any person freed the poor people by
killing these mischievous vermin, they would think
themselves bound in decency to make aclamour, but
inwardly they would be very well pleased; and the
government might easily accomplish it by hiring men
whose consciences would not suffer by the action,
and who might be repaid by a small tax on the
proprietors.”

Fi 7. % 0

(The Toque, or Bonnet- Monkey—Cercupitheeus radiatus.)

Farming in Afghanistan —On the prices of farming and
labour in Kohistan I gathered the following particulars:—A
landlord who farms his estate is understood to pay one-third of
the total produce for sowing, rearing, and reaping. The state
takes a third, and the remaining third falls to the proprietor. In
this case, however, he furnishes the seed, and water for irrigation.
If the proprietor also furnish cattle, and all the materials, &c.,
which are required, the labourers then receive only one-sixth for
their trouble. It is not usual to hire daily labourers, but when
a plough, two men, and a pair of oxen are so employed, the
wages are half a khan rupee, or three-cighths of a Company’s
rupee, per diem. Afghanistan, is a cheaper country than Persia,
for grain is more abundant. Wheat yields from ten to sixteen
fold, seldom more than fifteen; rice gives sixteen or eighteen;
jurawee as much as fifty fold. The best soil in the district of
Caboo] is at Deh Afghanee, a village in the suburbs, where a
jureeb of laud, or half an English acre, produces a rent of ten
tomauns, or two bundred rupees, and yields, besides the profits of
the proprietor, a revenue as high as forty rupees to government ;
but this is ground on which vegetables are reared, the sale of
which is highly advantageous, for the Afghans preserve cabbages,
carrots, and turnips, as we do potatoes, placing them on the
ground, with a little earth over them, and leaves, so that they are
thus kept fresh till April.— Barnes's Cabool,

MAGAZINE. [Ocrongr 8,

Watering Planis.—W atering is the mainstay of horticulture
in hot climates. When King Solomon, in the vanity of his mind,
made him ‘ gardens and orchards,’ he made him also ‘ pools of
water to water therewith the wood that bringeth forth trees ;’ and
the prophets frequently compare the spiritual prosperity of the
soul to ‘ a watered garden.’ It is with us also a most necessary
operation, but very little understood. Most young gardeners
conceive that the water for their plants cannot be too fresh and
cold; and many a pail of water that has stood in the sun is
thrown away in order to bring one ‘ fresh from the ambrosial
fount.” A greater mistake could not be made. Rain-water 18
best of all; and dirty and stagnant water, aud of a high tem-
perature—anything is better than cold spring-water. Mrs.
Loudon recommeuds pump-water to be exposed in open tubs
before it is used, and to be stirred about to impregnate it with
air; perhaps the addition of liquid manure or any other extrane-
ous matter would be useful. Those who have found how little
service their continual watering has done to their plants in a dry
summer would do well to attend to these simple rules.— Quar-
terly Review, No. 139.

The Canadian Voyageurs.—The dress of these people is gene-
rally half-civilized, half-savage. They wear a capot, or surcoat,
made of:a blanket, a striped cotton-shirt, cloth trowsers or leather
leggings, moccasins 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 pafors, embroidered with Indian and English
words and phrases. The lives of the voyagewrs are passed in wild
and extensive rovings in the service 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
for the dance. They inherit, too, a fund of civility and com-

laisance; 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 and comfort in every emer-
gency, and using the familiar appellation of ‘ cousin’ aud
‘brother ’ where there is, iu 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 sabmiusive to their leaders and employers, more capa-
ble of enduring hardship, or more good humoured under priva-
tions. Never are they so happy as when on long and rough ex-
peditions, toiling up rivers or coasting lakes; encamping at
night on the borders, gossiping round their fires, and bivouack-
ing in the open air. - They are dexterous boatmen, vigorous and
adroit with the oar and paddle, and will row from morning unto
night without a murmur. The steersman often sings an old tra-
ditionary 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 French chansons
that have been echoed 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, golden 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, on a bright sunny morning, down the transparent
current of one of the Canadian rivers. But we are telling of
things that are fast fading away! The march: of mechanical in-
vention is driving everything poetical before it. The steam-
boats, which are fast dispelling the wildness and romance of our
lakes and rivers, and aiding to subdue the world into common-
place, are proving as fatal to the race of Canadian voyageurs as
they have been to that of the boatmen of the Mississippi. Their
glory is departed: they are no longer the lords of our internal
seas and the great navigators of the wilderness. Some of them
may still occasionally be seen coasting the lower lakes with their
frail barks, and pitching their camps and lighting their fires upon
the shores; but their range is fast contracting to those remote
waters and shallow and obstructed rivers unvisited by the steam-
boat. In the course of years they will gradually disappear; their
songs will die away like the echoes they once awakened; and
the Canadian voyageurs will become a forgotten race, or remem-
bered, like their associates the Indians, among the poetical
images of past times, and as themes for local aud romantic asse-
ciations.— Washington Irving’s Astoria.

1842. THE PENNY MAGAZINE | 401

{Peasant of Cork.]

THE IRISH CLOAK.—No. I.

Tue cloak has from the earliest times been the pre-
vailing costume of Ireland, and amongst the yeomen
and poorer classes maintains its supremacy to the
present day. It has outlived much persecution and
many hard opinions. Among the latter were those of
our famous poet, Edmund Spenser; who, in his ‘ View
of the State of Ireland,’ written in 1596, states the case
of the mantle or cloak in the following ingenious and
eloquent manner. The work is written in a dialogue
between Eudoxus and Jreneus :—

‘* Iren. They (the Irish) have another custom from
the Scythians, that is, the wearing of mantles, and long
glibbs, which is a thick curled bush of hair hanging
down over their eyes, and monstrously disguising
them; which are both very bad and hurtful.

“ Fudox. Do you think that the mantle cometh from
the Scythians? I would surely think otherwise ; for
by that which I have read it appeareth that most
nations of the world anciently used the mantle. For
the Jews used it, as you ise read of Elias’s mantle,
&c. ; the Chaldees also used it, as ye may read in
Diodorus; the Egyptians likewise used it, as ye may
read in Herodotus; and may be gathered by the de-
al tage of Berenice, in the Greek commentary upon
Callimachus. The Greeks also used it anciently, as

No. 676.

it appeareth by Venus’s mantle lined with stars,
though afterwards they changed the form thereof into
their cloaks called Pallia, as some of the Irish also
use. And the ancient Latins and Romans uscd it,
as you may read in Virgil, who was a very great anti-
uary, that Evander, when Aineas came to him at his
east, did entertain and feast him, sitting on the ground
and lying on mantles, insomuch as he useth the very
word mantile for mantle,
‘ << Humi mantilia sternunt,’

So that it seemeth that the mantle was a general
habit to both nations, and not proper to the Scythians
only, as you suppose. : :

“Tren. Y cannot deny but that anciently it was
common to most, and yet sith thence disused and
laid away. But in this latter age of the world, since
the decay of the Roman empire, it was renewed and
brought in again by those northern nations, when,
breaking out of their cold caves and frozen habitations
into the sweet soil of Europe, they brought with them
their usual weeds, fit to shield the cold and that con-
tinual frost to which they had at home been inured,
the which yet they left not off, by reason that they
were in perpetual wars with the nations whom they
had invaded, but still removing from: place to place,
carried always with them that weed, as their house,

Vou. XI.—3 F

402 THE PENNY
their bed, and their garment; and coming lastly into
Ireland, they found there more special use thereof, by
reason of the raw cold climate, from whom it is now

rown into that general use in which that people now
have it. After whom, the Gauls succeeding, yet find-
ing the like necessity of that garment, continued. the
like use thereof.

« Eudor. Since then the necessity thereof is so com-
modious, as you allege, that it is instead of housing,
bedding, and clothing ; what reason have you then to
wish so necessary a thing cast off?

“‘ Iren. Because the commodity doth not countervail
the discommodity; for the inconveniences which
thereby do arise are much more many; for it is a fit
house for an outlaw, a meet bed for a rebel, and an
apt cloak for a thief. First, the outlaw, being for his
many crimes and villanies banished from the towns
and houses of honest men, and wandering in waste

laces, far from danger of law, maketh his mantle his

ouse, and under it covereth himself from the wrath
of heaven, from the offence of the earth, and from the
sight of honest men. When it raineth, it is his pent-
house ; when it bloweth, it is his tent ; when it freezeth,
it is his tabernacle. In summer he can wear it loose ;
in winter he can wrap it close; at all times he can use
it; never heavy, never cumbersome. Likewise for a
rebel it is serviceable ; for in this war that he maketh
(if at least it deserve the name of war), when he still
flieth from his foe, and lurketh in the thick woods and
Strait passages, waiting for advantages; it is his bed,
yes, and almost his household stuff. For the wood is

is house against all weathers, and his mantle is his
couch to sleep in; therein he wrappeth himself round,
and coucheth himself strongly against the gnats, which
in that country do more annoy the naked rebels
whilst they keep the woods, and do more sharply
wound them than all their enemies’ swords or spears,
which can seldom come near them. Yea, and often-
times their mantle serveth them when they are near
driven, being va a about their left arm instead of
a target; for it is hard to cut through with a sword;
besides, it 1s light to wear, light to throw away, and
peing, as they commonly are, naked, it is to them all
in all. Lastly, for a thief it is so handsome, as it may
seem it was first invented for him; for under it he
may cleanly convey any fit pillage that cometh hand-
somely in his way ; and when he goeth abroad in the
night for freebooting, it is his best and surest friend ;
for lying, as they often do, two or three nights together
abroad to watch for their booty, with that they can
prettily shroud themselves under a bush or a bankside
till they can conveniently do their errand ; and when
all is over, he can in his mantle through any town
or company, being close hooded over his head, as he
useth, from knowledge of any to whom he is endan-
gered. Besides this, he or any man that is disposed
to mischief or villainy may under his mantle go pri-
vily armed without suspicion of any; carry his head-
picce, his skean, or pistols, if he please, to be always
in readiness. Thus necessary A fitting is a mantle
for a bad man, and surely for a bad housewife it is no
less convenient ; for some of them that be wandering
women called of them mona-shull, it is a half ward-
robe, for in summer you shall find her arrayed com-
monly but in her smock and mantle, to be more ready
for her light services; in winter and in her travel it is
her cloak and safeguard, and alsoacoverlet. . . .
And as for all other good women which love to do but
little work, how handsome it is to lie in and sleep, or
to house themselves in the sunshine, they that have
been but awhile in Jreland can well witness. Sure J
am that you will think it very unfit for a good house-
wife to stir in, or to busy herself about her housewifery
in such sort as she should. These be some of the

MAGAZINE. [OctoneEr 15,
abuses for which I would think it mect to forbid all
mantles.”

In spite of these bitter objurgations, this national
dress has maintained itself more generally in Ireland
than in any other part of the United Kingdom. In
Scotland the kilt is rarely met with, and the plaid

seldom, except in the wilder spots where the people

are still beyond the march of innovation ; but in Ireland
the cloak is encountered everywhere—at home, in the
field, at christenings, at weddings, at merry-makings, at
‘berrins,’ in town and in country, on foot and on
horseback, on man, woman, and child. This universal
adoption makes it very imposing to a stranger ; it is
often graceful andalways highly characteristic; on the
women especially it is very striking, as, being without
bonnet or shoes, lightly clad, and assisted by the damp-
ness of the climate, it shows off the form like the
drapery on a Grecian statue. The Irish cloak is, in
general, more ample than that of either Scotland or
Wales; though this peculiarity is fast driving away
before the tide of British imports, which threatens to
annihilate all distinction of costume from “ Indus to
the pole.” The Indian in the wilds of Canada, and the
kings and queens of the Niger, seem equally proud of
the cana coats and trowsers of our soldiers and
sailors, and the sweepings of Hounsditch.

The cloak now so universally worn by the women of
Ireland has supplanted the old Irish mantle only a
few years, as in Galway and in Kerry the older and
more classic form is stillto be met with. Its appear-
ance is similar to the mantilla of the Spaniards, and
probably identical with it; there can be no question
about the intimate connection in former periods
between the two countries, for, independent of the
numerous architectural evidences, the fine dark
Spanish character of the southern Irish is not to be
mistaken for a moment, and contrasts finely with the
Celts of the north and west. |

But the cloak has no longer the bad moral character
attributed to it by Spenser, and every one admits and
admires its picturesque character, and the grace with
which it is worn. Lady Chatterton, in her very amus-
ing work, ‘ Rambles in the South of Ireland,’ has many

ges descriptive of its pleasing effect. She gays,
or instance, in one, * The very dress, or rather semi-
dress, of the country-people is picturesque; the large
blue cloak worn by the women is sure to be held
round their well-made figures in folds so easy and
beautiful as to furnish excellent models for the artist
and sculptor. Their long beautiful hair is gencrally
braided round their small heads with a taste and sim-
plicity truly classic; and there is an ease and grace in
all their movements, which seem, I think, to denotea
feeling of good taste and refinement far above the
common level of their class in other countries.” Many
others might be quoted to the same purpose.

The figure at the head of this notice was apparcntly
the daughter of a small farmer, returning from Cork
market ; the cloak, an exception to the universal blue
of this part, was of a dark green, new, and very grace-
fully worn,

The Wines of the Ionian Islands.—The art of making wine
in the Ionian Islands is not so well understood as the cultivation
of the vine. Nowhere has it been scientifically and carefully
studied. The process is commonly conducted in a rude and
careless manner, and the result is never certain as to the quality
of wine which will be obtained. The grapes are gathered hy
women and children, and carried in baskets to the press. Ifthe
grapes are black, and the skins thick, as they usually are, they
are allowed to remain heaped together six or seven days to
soften; they are next subjected to the pressure of the feet of
men, and next to the more powerful pressure of a screw. Tie
must obtained is fermented for a few days, with the addition of
about a fourth of the husks of the black grape, to heighten the

1812.)

colour. It is then drawn off, and allowed to remain and com-
plete its fermentation in casks. Tn the instance of white grapes,
their skins being sufiiciently tender, they do not require to be
further softencd, and they are subjected to the press without
delay. Often, and most commonly, the black and white are
mixed. The process. of which the outline is thus given, is that
followed in Zante. It is much the same in the other islands ;
the variations are inconsiderable. In most of the islands the
greater part of the must is brought iuto the towns in pig-skins,
from whence it is trauslerred to casks, for the completion of the
fermentation. In Santa Maura the must is fermented in pear-
shaped vats of masonry lined with mortar. The best wines of
tne Ionian Islands are those of Ithaca and Cephalonia, and of
the hilly and mountainous parts of Zante. They are all suffi-
ciently strong, aud would bear exportation; and, were they
allowed to have age, I believe they would be approved in this
country, especially the red wine of Ithaca, the best white wine
of Cephalonia, and the verdea of Zante. The last-mentioned
wine is at present made only in smal] quantities, and with great
care; and it is chiefly given in presents by the rich proprietors.
It is a highly-flavoured wine, of a greenish hue; it will keep
for a great length of time, and continue improving. It is a good
instance of what may be effected with care. Unfortunately, in
these islands hitherto little or no encouragernent has been given
to the making of good wine; quantity is attended to rather than
quality—a rapid sale, rather than a just remunerating profit.
Much of the wine that is sold is cheaper than small beer ; much
of it is sold quite new; little is kept a year; none is exported,
excepting from one island to another. There are no capitalists
—no regular wine-merchauts; each proprietor is his own mer-
chant; his cellar is commonly the ground-floor of his town-
house; having little room—no apparatus—apprehensive that the
wine will spoil if kept—he sells it as svon as possible, either by
wholesale or retail. If the former, tle doors of the cellar are
thrown open—two or three forms are pruvided—and a flag of
white paper, or of paper stained red, according to the quality of
the wine, is hung out on a stick. Should the wine be approved,
the cellar is crowded with customers, and suddenly becomes a
scene of merriment, uproar, and gambling—filled with people
talking loud, singing, or playing at cards, or the noisy, vulgar,
and classical game of Moro, the micare cum digitis of the
Romans.—Dary's Malta and the Ionian Islands.

Great Principle of Machinery.—A tool of the simplest con-
struction is a machine; a machine of the most curious construc-
tion is only a complicated tool. There are many cases in the
arts, and there may be cases in agriculture, in which the human
arm and hand, with or without a tool, may do work that no
machine can so well perform. There are processes in polishing,
and there is a process in copper-plate printing, in whichis sub-
stance has been found to stand in the place of the human hand.
And if, therefore, the mau with a spade alone does a certain
agricultural work more completely than aman guiding a plough
and a team of horses draggiug it, (which we do not affirm or
deny,) the only reason fur this is, that the man with the spade is
a better machine than the man with the plough and the horses.
The most stupid man that ever existed is, beyond all comparison,
a machine more cunningly made by the hands of his Creator
more perfect in all his several parts, and with all his more
exquisitely adapted to the regulated movement of the whole
body, less liable to accidents, and less injured by wear and tear,
than the most beautiful machine that ever was or ever will be
invented. ‘There is no possibility of supplying in many cases a
substitute for the simplest movements of man’s body, by the
most complicated movements of the most ingenious machinery.
Aud why so? Because the natural machinery by which a man
eveu lifts his hand to his head is at once so complex and so
simple, so apparently easy and yet so entirely dependent upon
the right adjustment of a great many contrary forces, that no
automaton, or machine imitating the actions of man, could ever
be made to effect this seemingly simple motion, without showing
that the contrivance was imperfect,—that it was a mere imitation,
and a very clumsy one. What an easy thing it appears to be for
a farming-man to thrash his corn with a flail; aud yet what an
expensive arrangemeut of wheels is necessary to produce the same
effects with a thrashing-machine. The truth is, that the man’s
arm aid the flail form a much more curious machine than the
other machine of wheels, which does the same work ; aud the
real question as regards the value of the two machines is, which

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

403

machine in the greater degree lessens the cost of production. We
state this principle broadly, in our examination into the value of
machinery in diminishing the cost of producing human food. A
machine is not perfect because it is made of wheels or cylinders,
employs the power of the screw or the lever, is driven by wind or
water or steam, but because it best assists the labour of man, by
calling into action some power which lie does not possess in him-
self. If we could imagine a man entirely dispossessed of this
power, we should see the feeblest of animal beings. He has no
tools which are a part of himself, to build houses like the beaver,
or cells like the He has not even learnt from nature to
build, instinctively, by certain and unchangeable rules. His
power is in his mind ; and that mind teaches him to subject all
the physical world to his dominion, by availing himself of the
forces which nature has spread around him. To act upon mate-
rial objects he arms his weakness with tools and with machines.
As we have before said, tools and machines are in principle the
same. When we strike a nail upon the head with a hammer,
we avail ourselves of a power which we find in nature—the effect
produced by the concussion of two bodies; when we employ a
water-wheel to beat out a lump of iron with a much larger bham-
mer, we still avail ourselves of the same power. There is no
difference in the nature of the instruments, although we call the
one a tool, and the other a machine. Neither the tool nor the
machine has any force of itself. In one case the force is in the
arm, in the other in the weight of water which turns the wheel.—

Results of Machinery.

Means of Maintamng the Uniform Temperature of the Human
Body.—The most trustworthy observations prove that in all cli-
mates, in the temperate zones as well as at the equator or the
poles, the temperature of the body in man, and in what are
commonly called warm-blooded animals, is invariably the same;
yet how different are the circumstances under which they live ?
The animal body is a heatcd mass, which bears the same rela-
tion to surrounding objects as any other heated mass. It receives
heat when the surrounding objects are hofter, it loses heat when
they are colder than itself. We know that the rapidity of cool-
ing increases with the difference between the temperature of the
heated body and that of the surrounding medium; that is, the
colder the surrounding medium the shorter the time required for
the cooling of the heated body. How unequal, then, must be
the loss of heat in a man at Palermo, where the external tem-
perature is nearly equal to that of the body, aud im the polar
regions, where the external temperature is from 70° to 90° lower.
Yet, notwithstanding this extremely unequal loss of beat, expe-
rience has shown that the blood of the inhabitant of the Arctic
circle has a temperature as high as that of the nativeof the south,
who lives in so different a medium. This fact, when its true
significance is perceived, proves that the heat given off to the
surrounding medium is restored within the body with great ra-
pidity. This compensation takes place more rapidly in winter
than in summer, at the pole than at the equator. In the animal
body the food is the fuel; with a proper supply of oxygen we
obtain the heat given out during its oxidation or combustion.
In winter, when we take exercise in a cold atmosphere, and when,
consequently, the amount of inspired oxygen increases, the ne-
ceasity for food containing carbon and hydrogen increases in the
same ratio; and by gratifying the appetite thus excited, we ob-
tain the most efficient protection against the most piercing cold.
A starving man is soon frozen to death; and every onc kuows
that the animals of prey in the Arctic regions far exceed in vo-
racity those of the torrid zone. Our clothing is merely an equi-
valent for a certain amount of food. The more warmly we are
clothed the less urgent becomes the appetite for food, because
the loss of heat by cooling, and consequently the amount of heat
to be supplied by the food, is diminished. If we were to go
naked, like certain savage tribes, or if in hunting or fishing we
were e d to the same degree of cold as the Samoyedes, we
should be able with ease to consume 10 lbs. of flesh, and perhaps
a dozen of tallow candles into the bargain, daily, as warmly-
clad travellers have related with astonishment of these people.
We should then, also, be able to take the same quantity of
brandy or train-oil without bad effects, because the carbon and
hydrogen of these substances would only suffice to keep up the
equilibrium between the external temperature and that of our
bodies. —Liebig's Animal Chemistry.

3F 2

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

([Ocroser 15,

Evesham. The Bell-Tower.,

THE ABBEY OF EVESHAM.

(From ‘ William Shakspere : a Biography.’)
Tux last great building of the Abbey of Evesham is
the only one properly belonging to the monastery which
has escaped destruction. The campanile which formed
an entrance to the conventual cemetery was commenced
by Abbot Lichfield in 1533. In 1539 the good abbot
resigned the office which he had held for twenty-six
years. His successor was placed in authority for a few
months to carry on the farce which was enacting
ela ip the kingdom, of a voluntary grant and surren-
der of all the remaining possessions of the religious
houses, which
tion of abbeys.” Leland, who visited the place within
a year or two after the suppression, “ rambling to and
fro in this nation, and in making researches into the
bowels of antiquity,’* says, “‘ In the town is no hospi-
tal, or other famous foundation, but the late abbey.”
The destruction must indeed have been rapid. The
house and site of the monastery were granted to Philip
Hobby, with a remarkable exception; namely, ‘‘all the
bells and lead of the church and belfry.” The roof of
this magnificent fabric thus went first; and in a few
years the walls became a stone-quarry. Fuller, writing
about a century afterwards, says of the abbey, ‘“‘ By a
long lease it was in the possession of one Mr. Apa
father and son; whose graudchild, living now at
Berkhampstead in Hertfordshire, hath better thriven,
by God's blessing on his own ind , than his father
and grandfather did with Evesham Abbey ; the sale of
the stones whereof he imputeth a cause of their ill-
success."+ All was swept away. The abbey-church,
with its sixteen altars, and its hundred and sixty-four
gilded pillars,t its chapter-house, its cloisters, its
* Wood, ‘ Athene Oxon.’ + ‘Church History.’
} Dugdale’s ‘ Monasticon,’ ed. 1819, vol. ii., p. 12.

preceded the Act of 1539 ‘for dissolu- pe

library, refectory, dormitory, buttery, and treasury ;
its almery, granary, and storehouse ; all the various
buildings for the service of the church, and for the ac-.
commodation of eighty-nine religious inmates and
sixty-five servants, were, with a few exceptions, ruins
in the time of William Shakspere. Habingdon, who
has left a manuscript ‘Survey of Worcestershire,’
written about two centuries ago, says, “ Let us Lut

ess what this monastery now dissolved was in former
ae 3 by the gate-house yet remaining ; which, though
deformed with age, is as large and stately asany at this
time in the kingdom.” at gateway has since
rished. Of the great mass of the conventual build-
ings Hebingsoe states that nothing was left beyond
“a huge deal of rubbish overgrown with grass.” Onc
beautiful gateway, however, formerly the entrance to
the chapter-house, yet remains even to our day. It
admits us toa large garden, now let out in small allot-
ments to poor and industrious inhabitants of Evesham.
The change is very striking. The independent posses-
sion of a few roods of land may oa bestow as
much comfort upon the labourers of Evesham as their
former dependence upon the conventual buttery.
But we cannot doubt that, for a long course of years,
the sudden and violent dissolution of that great abbe
must have produced incalculable poverty and wretched-
ness. Its princely revenues were seized upon by the
heartless despot, to be applied to his unbridied luxury
and his absurd wars. e same process of destruction
and appropriation was carried on throughout the
country. ‘The church, always a gentle landlord, was
succeeded in its possessions by the grasping creatures
of the crown ; the almsgiving of the religious houses
was at an end; and then came the age of vagabondage
and of poor-laws.

The sense which we justly entertain of the advan-
tages of the Reformation has accustomed us toshut our

1842.]

eyes to the tremendous evila which must have been

roduced by the iniquitous spoliations of the days of

enry VIII. and Edward VI. The religious houses,
whatever might have been their abuses, were centres
of civilization. Leland says, “There was no town at
Evesham before the foundation of the abbey.” Wher-
ever there was a well-endowed religious house, there
was a large and a regular expenditure, employing the
local industry in the way best calculated to promote the
happiness of the population. Under this expenditure,
not only did handicrafts flourish, but the arts were en-
couraged in no iconsiderable degree. The commis-
sioners employed to take surrender of the monastcries
in Warwickshire reported of the nunnery of Polsworth,
“that in this town were then forty-four tenements, and
but one plough, the residue of the inhabitants being
artificers, who had their livelihood by this house.”* In
another place Dugdale says, ‘‘ Nor is it a little observ-
able that, whilst the monasteries stood, there was no
act for relief of the poor, s0 amply did those houses
give succour to them that were in want; whereas in
the next age, namely, 39th of Elizabeth, no less than
eleven bills were brought into the House of Commons
for that purpose.”+ We have little doubt that the
judicious encouragement of industry in the immediate
neighbourhood of each monastery did a great deal
more to render a state provision for the poor un-
necessary than the accustomed “succour to those
who were in want.” The benevolence of the religious
houses was systematic and uniform. It was not the
ostentatious and improvident almsgiving which would
raise up an idle pauper population upon their own
lands. The poor, as far as we can judge from the acts of
law-makers, did not become acurse to the country, and
were not dealt with in the spirit of a detestable severity,

* Dugdale’s ‘ Warwickshire,’ p. 800.
¢ lbid., p. 803.

THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 405

until the law-makers had dried up the sources of their
profitable industry. Leland, writing immediately after
the dissolution of the Abbey of Evesham, says of the
town that it is “ meetly large and well builded with
timber; the market-sted is fair and large; there be
divers pretty strects in the town.” While the abbey
stood there was an annual disbursement there going
forward which has been computed to be equal to eighty
thousand pounds of our present money.* The reve-
nues, principally derived from manors and tenements
in eight different counties, are seized upon by the
Crown. The site of the abbey is sold or granted toa
private person, who will derive his immediate advan-
tage by the rapid destruction of a pile of buildings
which the piety and magnificence of five or six centu-
ries had been rearing. More than a hundred and fifty
inmates of this monastery are turned loose upon the
world, a few with miserable pensions, but the greater
number reduced to absolute indigence. Half the po-
pulation at least of the town of Evesham must have
derived a subsistence from the expenditure of these
inmates, and this fountain is now almost wholly dried
up. In the youth of William Shakspere it is impossible
that Evesham could have been other than a ruined and
desolate place. Not only would its monastic buildings
be destroyed, but its houses would be untenanted and
dilapidated ; its reduced population idle and dispirited.
Its two beautiful parish churches, situated close to the
precincts of the abbey, escaped the common destruction
of 1539; but till within the last seven ycars that of St.
Lawrence had been long disused, and had fallen into
ruin. It is now restored; for after three centuries of
destruction and neglect we have begun to cherish
some respect for what remains of our noble ecclesias-
tical edifices.

* ‘History of Evesham,' by George May.

A remarkably in-
telligent local guide.

(The Parish Churches, Evesham.)

406 THE PENNY

FROISSARYT AND HIS CHRONICLE.
No. VIII.

THE ARTEVELDS.

In a certain “season there was great discord between
the Earl of Flanders and the Flemings ; for they would
not obey him, nor he durst not abide in Flanders but
in great peril. And in the town of Ghent there was a
man, a maker of honey, called Jacob Arteveld.* He
was entered into such fortune and grace of the people,
that all things were done that he did (willed or deter-
mined on); he might command what he would through
all Flanders; for there was none, though he were
never so great, that durst disobey his commandment.
He had always going with him up and down in Ghent
sixty or fourscore varlets armed, and among them
were three or four that knew the secrets of his mind ;
so that if he met a person that he hated, or had him in
inspection, incontinent he was slain; for he had com-
manded his secret varlets that whensoever he met any
person, and made such a sign to them, that incontinent
they should slay him, whatsoever he were, without
any words or reasoning; and by that means he made
many to be slain; whereby he was so doubted, that
none durst speak against anything that he would have
done, so that every man was glad to make him good
cheer.” Froissart adds to this somewhat startling pic-
ture, the remark that, “to speak properly, there was
never in Flanders, nor in none other country, prince,
duke, nor other that ruled a country so peaceably as
long as this Jacob Arteveld did rule Flanders.”

There are few more interesting subjects in history
than this revolt of the Flemish against their prince,
under the command chiefly of the Artevelds, father
and son; not merely from the stirring character of
many of the incidents, or the vigorous intellects of the
Jeadcrs, particularly in Philip’s case, but from the
peculiar origin of the war, which sprung in a great
measure from the jealousy with which certain bodies
of citizens regarded any encroachment upon their pri-
vileges, and from its being so long and successfully
‘supported by warriors from the loom, the ae
the brewery, and the shop. In these wars the nobility
and knighthood of Europe discovered, to their surprise,
that chivalry was not a thing solely pertaining to
themselves ; many of them indeed lived to prove by
personal experience, thatif gentle blood was evidenced
by skill in the use of arms, as well as in courage to
take them up, the burghers of Ghent and Bruges en-
joyed a purer current running through their veins
than they did. At the period in question, which was
the same as that during which Edward III. and
Richard IJ. reigned in England, the Flemish towns
-were the most distinguished commercial places in
‘Europe; and Ghent and Bruges in particular were of
‘great size, contained large and prosperous populations,
and enjoyed much political power and influence. They
were subjects of the Earl of Flanders, who governed
them by bailiffs; but as they had from time to time
obtained various privileges and immunities, which the
lord no doubt had unwillingly conceded, and therefore
carelessly or unfaithfully observed, quarrels frequently
took place, even to the extent of a resort to arms. The
citizens in each town had among themselves numerous
trade divisions, or corporations, which, however they
micht dispute and even fight with cach other, were
all bound by a general league to defend the common
richts from any common oppressor, and to combine
under the direction of one of the most popular of their
body asa leader. Such was Jacob von Arteveld, who
so long exercised the virtual sovereignty over Ghent,

* Lord Bernera calls him Jaques Dartnell, and his son Philip
Dartnell : we take the liberty of using the more correct and
betier known appellation

MAGAZINE. f[Ocrossr 15,
whilst the nominal prince dared not even venture into
his own city.

In the maintenance of this struggle the Flemish re-
ceived considerable support from England. The two
countries were already closely connected by commer-
cial interests, and the position of Flanders was such as.
to enable its inhabitants, if favourably disposed towards
Edward III., to aid that monarch in his attempts on
the French throne. Ambassadors were in consequence
sent from this country, and favourably received by
Jacob Arteveld, who induced the people of Ghent to
conclude a treaty of alliance with Edward. Count
Louis, then Earl of Flanders, who supported the in-
terests of the King of France, as his suzerain lord,
endeavoured to arrest these proceedings by the execu-
tion, at Bruges, of one of the men who had Gece conspI-
cuous in the arrangement of the treaty. The people
of Ghent were so inflamed at this act, that they at once
marched upon Bruges, and compelled that town to join
the alliance; and further, with the assistance of the
English, defeated the earl, and compelled him to re-
treat into France. In the course of the war that
ensued, Arteveld endeavoured to draw still closer the
connection with the English, by proposing to Edward
that Flanders should be erected into a sovereiyn
duchy, with Edward, afterwards known as the Black
Prince, at its head. The Flemings, it appears, thought
this was going too far; they did not desire to deprive
the earl entirely, both in himself and in his heirs, of
the rule, and began to suspect Arteveld’s genera!
fidelity to their interests. So whilst Edward, with the
young prince, was waiting in the haven of Sluys tor
the result of an appeal to the Flemish on the matter,
the following scene took place in Ghent :—One day “ Ar-
teveld came into Ghent, about noon; they of the town
knew of his coming, and many were assembled together
in the street whereas he should pass ; and when they saw
him they began to murmur, and began to run together
three heads in one hood, and cried, ‘ Behold yonder
great master, who will order all Flanders after his
pleasure ; the which is not to be suffered.’ Also their
words were sown through all the town, how Jacob
Arteveld had nine years assembled all the revenues of
Flanders without any accompt given, and thereby had
kept his estate, and also sent great riches out of the
country into England secretly. These words set thein
of Ghent on fire; and as he rode through the strect hie

erceived that there was some new matter against

im, for he saw such as were wont to make revere:ice
to him as he came by, he saw them turn their backs
toward him, and enter into their houses: then he began
to doubt ; and as soon as he was alighted in his lodging,
he closed fast his gates, doors, and windows. ‘This
was scant done but all the street was full of men, and
especially of them of the small crafis; there they
assailed his house both behind and before, and the
house was broken up. He and his within the house de-
fended themselves a long space, and slew and hurt
many without; but finally ke could not endure, for
three parts of the men of the town were at that assault.
When Jacob saw that he was so sore oppressed, he
came to a window, with great humility, bare headed.
and said with fair language, ‘Good people, what aileth
you? Why be you so sore troubled against me? In what
manner have J displeased you? Show me, and I shall
make you amends at your pleasures.’ Then such as
heard him, answered all with one voice, ‘We will
have accompt made of the great treasure of Flanders,
that ye have sent out of the way without any tttle of
reason.’ Then Jacob answered meekly, and said,
‘ Certainly, sirs, of the treasure of Flanders | never
took nothing; withdraw yourselves patiently into your
houses, and come again to-morrow in the morning,
and I shall make you sv good accompt, that of reason

1842.]

ye shall be content.’ Then they all answered and said,
‘ Nay, we will have accompt made incontinent; ye
shall not escape us so; we know for truth that ye have
sent great riches into England without our knowledge,
wherefore ye shall die.’ When he heard that word, he
Joined his hands together, and sore weeping, said, ‘Sirs,
such as I am ye have made me, and ye have sworn to
me or (ere) this to defend ine against all persons, and
now ye would slay me without reason; ye may do it
an ye will, for I am but one man among you all; for
God's sake take better advice, and remember the time
ap and consider the great graces and courtesies that

have done to you; ye would now render to me a
small reward for the great goodness that I have done
to you and to your town in time past. Ye know right
well merchandise was nigh lost in all this country, and
by my means it is recovered; also I have governed
you in great peace and rest, for in the times of my
governing ye have had all things as ye would wish,
corn, riches, and all other merchandise.’ Then they
all cried with one voice, ‘Come down to us, and
preach not so high, and give us account of the great
treasure of Flanders, that ye have governed so long
without any accompt making, the which pertaineth not
to an officer to do, as to receive the goods of his lord,
or of a country, without accompt.’ When Jacob saw
that he could not appease them, he drew in his head,
and closed his window, and so thought to steal out on
the backside into a church that joined to his house;
but his house was so broken, that four hundred persons
were entered into his house; and finally there was he
taken and slain without mercy.”

Thirty-six years after this event, the Ghentese found
themselves once more in active warfare with their
prince, Louis II., a son of Jacob Arteveld’s sovereign
and chief antagonist. But their cause was beginning
to look gloomy. The earl had succeeded in com-
pletely surrounding the city at a certain distance, so as
to prevent any supplies of provisions from reaching
the unfortunate inhabitants. Their distress at last
grew unsupportable, and Van den Bosch and the other
leaders were scarcely able to keep the inhabitants firm
to their purpose of continuing the war or obtaining
an honourable peace. It is a curious and most
striking evidence of Jacob Arteveld’s talents and
honesty, that his memory should then have occurred
to the mind of his fellow-townsmen, disgraceful to
them as was the act by which they had lost his
services; and further, that their recollections of him
should have so worked upon thcir minds in the
present extremity, that a comparatively unknown man
should be suddenly called forth from his obscurity to
lead them, simply from his connectiun with the
lamented Arteveld. But so it was, and the character
and actions of the man thus summoned to their aid
give to the whole incident more an air of a romance
than a sober history.

Peter den Bosch, at his wit’s end on account of the
difficulties to which we have referred, at Jast made a
bold and novel stroke to relieve himself. Jacob
Arteveld had left a son, called Philip, “ who was
abiding in his mother’s house” in retirement, and
living with her “ honestly on their rents.” One evening
‘“‘ Peter den Bosch suddenly appeared before Philip
Arteveld, and began to open the matter wherefore he
was come to him, and said thus :—‘ Philip, if ye will
take good heed to my words, and believe my counsel,
I will make you the greatest man in all the country of
Flanders.’ ‘* How can that be, Sir?’ said Philip. ‘J
shall show you,’ said Peter; ‘ye shall have the
governing and ministration of all them in the town of
Ghent, for we be now in great necessity to have a
sovercign ol of good name and of good renown,
and so by this means your father, Jacob Arteveld,

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

407

shall rise again in this town, by the remembrance of
you; for every man saith that since his days the
country of Flanders hath not been so loved, honoured,
nor feared, as it was while he lived ; and J shall lightly
set you in his stead, if ye list yourself ; and when ye be
in that authority, then shall ye govern yourself by my
counsel, till ye have full understanding of every case,
the which ye shall soon learn.’ Then this Philip, who
was at man’s estate, and naturally desired to be ad-
vanced, honoured, and to have more than he had,
answered and said, ‘Peter den Bosch, ye offer me a
great thing, and I believe you; and if I were in the
state that ye speak of, I swear to you by my faith that
I should do nothing without your counsel.’ Then
Peter answered and said, ‘How say you? Can ye
bear yourself high and be cruel among the commons,
and especially in such thingsas we shall have to do?
A man is nothing worth without he be feared, doubted,
and some time renowned with cruelty; thus must the
Flemings be governed; a2 man must set no more by
the life of men, nor have no more pity thereof, than of
the lives of swallows or larks, the which be taken in
season to eat.” ‘ By my faith, said Philip, ‘all this I
can do right well.’ ‘ That is well said,’ quoth Peter,
‘and J shall make you so that ye shall be sovereign
above all other;’ and so therewith took leave of him
and departed. The night passed, the next day came;
then Peter den Bosch came into a place whereas there
were assembled more than four thousand of his sect
(party) and others, to hear some tidings, and to know
how they should be ordered, and who should be the chief
captain of Ghent. And there was present the lord
of Harzelles, after whom much of the business within
Ghent was ordered, but of going outward he would
not meddle; and so there among them was named
diverse persons of the town of Ghent, and Peter
den Bosch stood still, and heard them well, and then
he spoke openly and said, ‘ Sirs, I believe well all this
that ye say; ye speak of good affection, and by great
deliberation of courage, that ye have to the keeping of
the honour and profit of this town, and also such
persons as ye have named be right able, and nave well
deserved to have part of the governing of the town of
Ghent; but, sirs, I know one, that if he will meddle
therewith, I think there should not be a meeter man
therefore, nor of a better name.’ Then Peter was
desired to show his name, and so he named him, and
said, ‘ Sirs, itis Philip Arteveld, who was christened
at St. Peter's in this town of Ghent, by the noble Queen
of England, called Philippe, the same season that
Jacob Arteveld was before Tournay with the King of
England, and the Duke of Brabant, the Duke of
Gucrles, and the Earl of Hainault; the which Jacob
Arteveld, then Philip’s father, governed the town of
Ghent and the country of Flanders so well, that it was
never so well ruled since, as I have heard say, and do
hear daily of the ancient men, who had knowledge
thereof, who say the town was never so well kept since
as it was in his time, for Flanders was in a great
jeopardy to be lost, and by his wisdom he recovered
it; sirs, know for truth, we ought better to love the
branches and members that cometh from so high and
valiant man as he was than of any other.’ And as
soon as Peter den Bosch had said these words, Philip
Arteveld entered into every man’s courage, that they
said all with one voice, ‘Let us have him,’” &c. Philip
was soon brouczht into the market-place, “ and there
they made to him assurance, both mayors, aldermen,
and masters in every craft.” And -thus with famine
already within the walls, and a cruel enemy not far
from them without, Philip Arteveld stepped from his
happy fireside and lettered ease, to assume the awful
responsibility of the government of Ghent. In our
next we shall see how he sped.

408

THE EGYPTIAN THEBES.

Tux name of No occurs several times in the Holy
Scriptures as that of a great and populous Egyptian
city ; and is sometimes distinguished by the addition of
‘Ammon’ (No-Ammon). This addition would natu-
rally suggest that the city denoted was the chief seat
of the worship of Jupiter Ammon; and this was
Thebes. The Septuagint renders it by ‘ Diospolis,’
which was a name of Thebes, on account of its devo-
tion to the worship of Jupiter. It is true that there
werc two other cities in Egypt which bore the same
name; but as Thebes was the principal, and other cir-
cumstances concur in its favour, we have little hesita-
tion in acquiescing in the general conclusion that this
famous city is intended by the No of Scripture.
Thebes Tas ‘been celebrated as the most ancient
capital and renowned city of Egypt, the origin of
which is lost in the remote infancy of human settle-
ments and institutions. Long the metropolis of the
country, and continuing, as the independent capital
of Upper Egypt, to eclipse the metropolitan cities
which arose in Middle and Lower Egypt—enriched
by commerce, devotion, and the spoils of conquered
kings—and always looked to with veneration as the
parent city, and the prime seat of the sacred mysteries,
and of learning and the arts,—Thebes survived in
splendour and magnificence long after Memphis had
become the political metropolis of the united kingdom,
and, from its more advantageous situation for trade,
had diverted from it the wealth it derived from com-
merce. This, however, doubtless gave the first im-
pulse to its decline; but from the reports of ancient
writers it may well be questioned whether, at any point
of time which the Old Testament history embraces,
the subtraction which the rivalry of Memphis made
from the wealth and population of Thebes enabled her
to eclipse, or even equal, the remaining glory of that
most renowned city. And even at this day, while
Noph, and Zoan, and On have scarcely left a trace of
their existence, the desolate temples of Thebes, which
remain fresh, fair, and strong, promise to carry down
‘o future ages the record of her glory and desolation.
Thebes has the distinction of being mentioned by
Homer, who speaks of its great wealth, and mentions
its hundred gates, from each of which issued two hun-
dred men, with horses and chariots. This passage has
uccasioned more discussion than a poetical allusion
appears to require. Diodorus seems to intimate that
this force was not raised in the immediate vicinity of
Thebes; and as to the hundred gates, he states the con-
jecture of some persons, that the city derived its title
of Hecatompylos from the numerous propyla, or gate-
ways of temples and public buildings. Some under-
stand it to denote so many palaces of princes, each of
whom, on pressing occasions, furnished the stated
number of men, horses, and chariots. A strong objec-
tion to the notion that city-gates can be intended,
arises from the fact, as noticed by Pococke, Wilkinson,
and others, that not the least indication can be disco-
vered that Thebes was ever inclosed by a wall. We
have no detailed descriptions of the city from ancient
sources, but only of the conspicuous a monu-
ments; and it is very possible that, in this and other
ancient cities of Egypt, while the temples seem
adapted, from their massive character and durable
materials, to resist the utmost power of time, the mass
of the private dwellings were of a very humble cha-
racter, probably of mud or brick ; some suppose they
were of wood, but this would be hardly possible in
Egypt, where timber is, and ever has been, scarce and
costly, But it isnow well apprehended that, in speak-

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

[OctroseEr 15,

nothing of handsome streets and comfortable abodes,
in which our modern cities as far exceed the ancient as
the ancient | oneate| excceded ours in temples, theatres,
palaces, and tombs. However, the pay complete in-
forination obtained from the painted walls and tombs
at Thebes, concerning the usages in peace and war,
the arts, the costumes, and the manner of life and
action of the ancient inhabitants, furnishes a very
satisfactory and most authentic corroboration of the
ancient accounts of their luxury and wealth. Of
the latter, some idea may be formed from the accounts
of the spoil obtained by the Persians, under Cambyses,
and the quantity of precious metal collected after the
burning of the city, which last, according to Diodorus,
amounted to lest of 300 talents (about 26,020
pounds troy) of gold; and 2300 talents (or 199,518
ounds) of silver; the former worth 1,248,960/. ster-
ing, and the latter 598,544/. This great conflagra-
tion is said not only to have destroyed the private
houses, but the greater part of the numerous temples
by which Thebes was adorned. This is however not
the first time that Thebes had suffered from the
desolations of war. In Nahum (iii. 8, 10) mention
is made of a devastation of No, prior to the ruin of
Nineveh, and which appears to correspond to the first
direct blow which the splendour of Thebes reccived
on the invasion of Egypt by the Ethiopians, s.c. 759.
Betwecn this and the invasion of Cambyses, it probably
again suffered in the incursion of Nebuchadnezzar ;
and after it was burnt by the Persian king we cease to
hear of its great ag eater as a city, though it still
survived and was held in high consideration, and
something seems to have been done towards its restora-
tion; and s.c. 86, it was still of such strength and
consequence as to dare to rebel against Ptolemy
Lathyrus, and stood a three years’ siege before it was
taken and plundered. Perhaps this fact may be set
in opposition to the opinions already stated, that
Thebes was never walled; for if it was not, it is diffi-
cult to understand how it could have held out so long.
Under the Romans, some small buildings scem to have
been erected for the convenience of their local esta-
blishments; but it was again punished for rebellion
by Gallus, in the reign of Augustus; and from that
time we hear no more of it as a living town. Strabo
describes it in his time as ruined, the only inhabitants
being collected (as at present) in a few hamlets con-
structed on its site. The zeal of the early Christians
against the forms of outrageous idolatry there dis-
played, led them to do their best to deface and destroy
its remaining monuments. Thus was Thebes at last
reduced to a desolation—but perhaps the grandest de-
solation in the world—by a succession of destructions
and spoliations which were foretold by the inspired
prophets, whose predictions were, in their day, derided
and laughed toscorn. And here we may pause. The
temples, obelisks, statues, and tombs of Thebes offer
a wide field for description. But as these dv not
directly tend to Scriptural iJlustration, and could not
be satisfactorily examined within the limits of a note,
it seems best to avoid the subject altogether. There is
however one point in which we feel too much interest
not to allude to it. Thebes has again in our own da
risen to an importance peculiarly its own, and obnn
has drawn towards it the strong attention of all
Europe. This arises not only from the peculiar cha-
racter of its monuments, and the facility of access to
them, but from the fact that the paintings and sculp-
tures which decorate the walls oe its temples and the
interior of its long-hidden tombs, furnish a vast mine ©
of information, of the most authentic and intelligible
kind, concerning the manners, usages, and habits of

ing of the splendour of ancient cities, we understand | remote times, which might elsewhere be sought in
exclusively their public buildings and monuments, and | vain, and which had long been vainly desired.

1842.]

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

'The Common Birch—Betula alba.)

THE BIRCH.

CoLeripGE conferred upon the birch the title of the
‘“* Lady of the Woods,” and every one will acknowledge
that its elegance, grace, and beauty entitle it to the
poet's appellation. Nothing can be more light and
airy than its slender drooping spray, “circling like a
fountain-shower,” as another poet sings, those who sit
beneath its branches, The birch needs not a rich soil
and sheltered situation, but is often employed as a
‘“ nurse” to less hardy trees, and flourishes on poor sands
on which only the pine and larch besides itself can
manage to thrive, It fears not the bleakest storms, but
grows at a higher elevation than any other of our indi-
genous trees. Mr. Selby, in his very elegant work on
‘ British Forest-Trees,’ says that in Scotland the birch
grows at an altitude of three thousand five hundred
feet. The species is very widely diffused in the tem-
perate regions of the globe, but its true habitat is indi-
cated by the appearance which it presents in different
situations. Towards the southern limits of the zone

No. 677,

which it occupies, in the Apennines for example, it is
first found at an elevation of four thousand seven hun-
dred and sixty feet. On /&tna it is found at about the
same elevation. In Lapland it grows within about two
thousand feet of the line of perpetual snow, and eight
bundred feet higher than the pines, but in this situa-
tion it shrinks into a bush, and in the highest regions
of the Lapland Alps it “ creeps upon the ground.” It
is true that there are many exceptions to the theory
which assigns the zones at which different trees cease
to grow. Mr. Laing, in his work on ‘ Norway,’ men-
tions that on the Dovre Fjelde, in latitude about 62° 25/
north, and at an elevation exceeding three thousand
feet, the birch-is growing up the sides of the hills in
abundance sufficient to afford firewood to two farms.
These trees, he says, are stunted and crooked, but
“they are more luxuriant than those growing in the
most sheltered spots in the county of Caithness, in lati-
tude 58° north, and only a few feet above the level of
the sea.” That the birch does grow at a higher eleva-
tion than any other tree is beyond a doubt. None

Sigitized by (cs OMI —3 G

41() THE PENNY
like it braves so well the inhospitalities of climate : it
cheers the ever-desolate scene 1n spite of the wild and
bitter winds and piercing northern blasts, and man
should look upon it with a friendly eye. In the milder

arts of Sweden and Norway, and in Russia, the birch
1s the most common tree, after the pine. In the latter
country whole forests are covered with it alone, and it
attains a height of seventy feet, and two feet in dia-
meter; but in England it does not acquire such large
dimensions. In Scotland, on the shores of lochs, on
the banks of rivers,and in mountain scenery, the birch
constitutes one of the most beautiful features of the
landscape. It emits an agreeable fragrance, especially
in the spring, or at other periods atter showers, and
slightly at all times while in leaf.

There are four species of birch found in Europe.
The common birch and the weeping birch are the best
known. ‘The most striking difference between the two
is indicated by the title of the latter, which is by far the
most ornamental tree, and is the one which is general in
Scotland and also in Wales. Besides its character
being indicated by its pendulous branches, it may be
distinguished by the young shoots being quite smooth,
bright chesnut-brown when ripe, and then covered
with little white warts. Sir T. Dick Lauder gives a
rule for ascertaining this species when young. He
says “that in young weeping-birches there is a certain
degree of roughness on the spray, as if it were the coa-
gulation of a gum exuded from the pores, that never
failed to indicate to us the tree which was ultimately
to turn out of the pendulous variety.” Some natural-
ists do not call the weeping-birch a varicty, but a varia-
tion; but it appears to have a tolerably distinct cha-
racter, and besides the differences already pointed oui,
it grows more rapidly and attains a larger size than the
erect or common species. The dwarf-birch is found
in the northern verge of the zone inhabited by the
birches. Linneus, in his ‘ Tour in Lapland,’ says tha:
it furnishes the inhabitants of the mountainous parts of
Lapland with fuel. In Tierra del Fuego there is also
a species of birch which does not excecd the size of a
shrub. The common birch is subject to a curious dis-
case, which displays itself in a manner with which most
persons are familiar—the matting together of the small
twigs so as to look like a bird's nest. This symptom
indicates that the tree is placed in an unfavourable
soil or situation.

Several of the birches which grow in the mountainous
parts of India are noble trees, and are valued for their
timber in the places where they grow. The bark of
the Indian paper-birch is of a cinnamon colour, and its
Jaminm are used as a lining for hookahs. The Sanscrit
name for this substance is boorju, a word which is re-
ferred to with many others in proof of the Teutonic
languages having descended from the Sanscrit. The
American birches contain several interesting varieties,
some of which have been introduced into this country.
The paper or canoe birch furnishes the bark of
which canoes are constructed. ‘The bark is the part of
the tree most valued. Loz-houses are sometimes
thatched with it, and even hats are sometimes manu-
factured from it. Michaux describes the manner in
which the bark Is obtained when wanted for a canoe.
The largest and smoothest treesare selected, and in the
spring two circular incisions are made in the trunk, at
the distance of several fect apart, with longitudinal
incisions on each side. The bark is easily detached by
means of a wooden wedge. With thread made from
the fibrous roots of the white spruce fir the pieces of
bark are sown together, over a licht frame-work of
wood, and the scams are caulked with the resin of the
Balm-ot-Gilead fir. A canoe of this kind, capable of
carrying four persons and some baggage, weighs
from forty to filty pounds only. The American red

MAGAZINE. [Ocroner 22.
birch grows in the southern states of the Union,
and attains a height of seventy feet and a diameter of
trom two to three fect. Its bark is brown, dotted with
white and slightly wrinkled. The broums used in the
streets of Philadelphia, which are said to be far better
than those of Europe, are made from the tough
and elastic twigs of this species; and when about an
inch thick they are also used for cask hoops. The
cherry-birch, sometimes called the mountain mahogany,
on account of itsexcellent timber, which is hard, close-
rrained, and of a dull reddish colour, is deserving of
the attention of planters in this country, and would
aed be very successful in our climate. Souih of

ennsylvania it flourishes only on the Alleghanies.
The yellow birch, so called from the bright gulden
yellow of its bark, is found chiefly in the coldest parts
of North America, and is scarcely seen south otf the
THudson.

The birch is at present as little regarded in England
for its utility as in the days of Evelyn; but perhaps it
has been under-rated. Mr. Selby, in the work already
quoted, offers some good reasons why its cultivation
would be more advantageous than several other trecs
held in greater estimation. First as to its uses. He
says :—'* A vast quantity of birch timber is annually
cut up for the staves of herring-barrels; and indecd
this is the principal use to which it is now applied in
the north of England and Scotland, except in some parts

of the Hlighlands, where it is still the timber used in

the construction of houses, and where not only the
greater part of the household furniture, but also of
agricultural implements are made of it.” It is also
much used, together with the alder, for the soles of
the clogs or wooden shoves frequently worn in the north
of England and in Scotland. For the above-mentioned
purposes the birch attains a sufficient size in fifteen or
twenty years, whereas other trees would require a
much longer period ; and if some of the exotic birches
which are more rapid in their growth werc extensively
ieee the proprietor would probably raise a very
andsome rent from the soil. In England birch is
gencrally treated as coppice or underwood. At the
end of five or six years it is cut down for brooms, and
if allowed to stand twice this period it becomes useful
for fuel, poles, stakes, and fencing. Birch bark seils
for about half as much as that of the oak. The timber
is coarse-grained, and white with a shade of red; but
it is imported from Russia and America, and is used
in various articles of manufacture. The birch makes
superior charcoal, and is extensively used in the manu-
facture of gunpowder, and as a crayon for artists.
The extensive usefulness of the birch in the northern
ae of Europe is deserving of a separate paragraph.
n some ot the most inhospitable parts of Europe it is
the only fuel. In Sweden it is the fuel best adapted
for smelting of iron. Mr. Laing says that the bark
‘is used all over Norway, beneath slates, tiles, earth, or
whatever may be the exterior covering of a roof, tc
prevent the wood beneath from rotting. All posts
which are in contact with the earth, whether forining
fences, bridge-rails, or gates, are always carefully
wrapped round with flakes of birch bark, for a few
inches above and below the ground.” The gily nature
of the bark enables it to resist wet, and prevents its
oy Instances have occurred in which a fallen
tree has crumbled into dust, while the preservation of
the bark has been so perfect as to preclude suspicion
as to the ravages which it concealed. The bark has
also resisted petrifaction, while the process had been
coinplete within. In Sweden, according to Capell
Brooke, the bark 13 used frequently “as an inner sole
for shoes, and for this purpose seems preferable to lea-
ther.” The Laplanders make waterproof boots and
shoes of it, and a piece with a hole in the centre forms

1842.]

a fashionable ‘ Mackintosh’ amongst them. Mr. Laing
also speaks of the “curious savings of ropes by birch
poles.” They are rigged with shrouds in small vessels,
and employed as traces in horse-harness. The bark is
made into cordage in various ways. The lcaves serve
as fodder for cattle in Norway and Sweden; and in
Finland as tea. The bark is used for tanning by a very
simple application, described in Linnzus’s ‘Tour in
Lapland’ (vol. i., p. 249). The peculiar odour of Rus-
sia leather is derived from an oil distilled from birch-
bark which is used in the tanning process. The inner
bark is reddish, and this gives the deep red colour to
the sails of the fishing-boats and to the fishermen’s nets
on the shores of Norway. Ayellow dye is obtained from
the leaves and young shoots. A pleasant beverage is
obtained from the birch by tapping the tree for its sap
In the spring. The manufacture of this wine was an
affair of some interest to the good housewives of Eng-
land twoor three centuries ago, and Evelyn gives a
diffuse account of the process.

RAILWAY GOODS-TRAFFIC.
(Continued from page 395.]

We stated in the -last article that Pickford’s Railway
Depdt is a scene of activity and bustle—not during the
day, but in the night time. The cause of this rather
unusual circumstance is to be found in the hours
which the Railway Company have fixed for the
departure of the goods-trains, and which are regulated
so that the trains arrive at Camden Town in the even-
ing and nicht. The night is the period at which the
goods-trains are prepared at the Camden Town Station,
for departure on the following morning; and also at
which the goods are received and unladen which have
arrived from the north, All the operations, therefore,
will be brought under explanation, if we first describe
the reception and unloading of an ‘up’ train, and then
the making-up and dispatch of a ‘ dowr’ train.

In all cases where one railroad joins another, the
two companies make arrangements in common, for
the dispatch of goods aJong both lines ; and the carrier
also arranges with both companies. If a bale of goods
has to be brought from York to London, it passes
along four railways :—the ‘York and North Midland,’
the ‘ North Midland,’ the ‘ Midland Counties,’ and the
‘London and Birmingham.’ But the same carrier
takes charge of it for the whole distance, and opens
accounts with all four companies, paying to each a toll
according to the weight of goods and the extent of
railway traversed. The companies lend the carrier
as many wazgons or trucks as may be necessary for
the conveyance of the goods placed in his charge.

Messrs. Pickfurd have depéts at most of the great
manufacturing towns in the north and north-west, at
which goods are collected for forwarding to TV.ondon
or to other places. So far asthe Birmingham Railway
is concerned, goods from the north arrive in London at
three different periods in the evening or night, and the
carriers have to make their arrangements with refer-
ence to those periods. The first of these goods-trains
comes from the district around Birmingham, the
second frem the Manchester district, and the third
from the Leeds and Yorkshire. At the country depdts,
therefore, goods are made up at different hours, accord-
ing to the district in which they may be situated. In
each case the manufacturer entrusts his goods to the
carrier, who is held responsible for the safe delivery of
them in London. The goods, when collected at the
several depdts of the carrier, are conveyed in his wag-
gons or carts to the goods-stations of the respective
railways, and are there deposited by the carrier’s ser-
vants, in trucks, furnished to him by the companies.
The train then sets off, and whether it passes over one,

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

411

two, three, or four railways, the goods remain un-
touched til] they reach Camden Town; the necessary
arrangements having previously been made with all
the companies.

In this way, therefure, we will suppose a train to
have arrived in London, bringing goods (passenger
traffic we shall not allude to) from Birmingham and
the Midland Counties. At Camden Town the goods-
trucks pass off the passenger-line, into the Company's
goods-depét, and are then placed in the hands of the
respective carriers to whom they may have been lent.
In a similar way, too, the Manchester and other Lan-
cashire goods arrive at a later hour, and are con-
signed to the carriers, the Company ceasing to have
any further responsibility.

Ve will follow the course of those trucks which are
assigned to Messrs. Pickford. Every truck is wheeled
on to a weighing-machine belonging to the Company ;
and the weight, diminished by that of the truck, is the
amount on which toll is to be paid. The truck then
at once passes into the care of Messrs. Pickford’s
servants, who wheel it toa weighing-machine at the
northern entrance of the warehouse. An entry is
made in a book of the weight of the whole, the ‘ tare’
of the truck, the nett weight of the goods, the place
from whence brought, the train by which brought, and
the Company to which the truck belongs; all of which
forms a check to the accounts between the firm and the
respective companies. The truck is then, by means of
one of the ‘turn-plates,’ wheeled to the northern end
of the platform in the warehouse, the cloth covering is
removed, and the goods are hauled out by means of a
crane. Here a very curious example of classification
is observed. Every manufacturer puts on his bales or
boxes a kind of symbol or private mark, by which the
carrier knows the consignor and the consignee of every
package, although the inscription may be unintelligible
to others. As each package is hauled out of the truck
and placed on a low wheel-carriage, one of the porters
repeats aloud the inscription on it. A clerk at a
neighbouring desk then refers toa book or paper, and
calls out ‘ No. 4,’ or ‘ No. 6,’ or some other integer; a
porter then wheels the carriage to one particular part
of the platform, and there deposits the package. The
meaning of this contrivance 1s the following :—when
the clerk hears the inscription marked on the package,
he is enabled to tell what part of London it is to go to;
and directs the porter to place the package in une or
other of several groups, cach destined to one par-
ticular section or district of London. When we state
that, by the seven o'clock train alone, there are fre-
quently five and twenty truck-loads of goods consigned
to Messrs. Pickford, the extent of the operations within
the warehouse may be conceived. Each truck is drawn
up to the platform, and all the goods are transferred to it.

The goods thus brought to the warchouse leave
it early on the following morning; and hence the
whole night is spent in loading the 10oad-waggons by
which the goods are conveyed to the London houses of
business. The empty waggons are wheeled up to the
easiern side of the platform, one to each group of
goods; and the goods are then lifted into them by
means of powerful cranes, attention being of course
directed to the arrangement of the packages in the
order in which they may have to be removed. A
most extensive and minute system of book-keeping
is observed, by clerks placed at all the scctions of the
warchouse ; every package being entered in a variety
of ways in different books, since the carrier has to deat
with the consignor, the consignee, the manager of the
country depdt, and one or more railway companies, in
respect of every single package.

All which we have said of the Birmingham and
Manchester trains applies equally to the Leeds train,

3G 2

412

witich arrives at a later hour. In this case usually
about ten or twelve trucks are laden with goods for
Pickford and Co., which go through the same process.

Meanwhile much has been doing in the preparation
of the ‘ down’ trains, which we must now notice. All
the goods dispatched hence towards the north leave the
Camden Town station early in the morning; and the car-
riers have to get all their trucks laden by an appointed
time. During the afternoon and evening, the waggons
belonging to the firm are collecting from every part of
London goods which are to be forwarded to the north
on the following morning. The “Castle” inWood Street
isa centre towards which the City traffic tends ; while an-
other office at the West-end is a centre for the more
courtly section of the metropolis. Ata later hour, all these
voods are forwarded to Camden Town. Any one who
may have been in the neighbourhood at night has pro-
bably scen heavily-laden waggzons proceeding to this one
spot. As late as midnight, and indeed long after mid-
night, these waggons continue to arrive, sume belong-
ing to one carricr, some to another. Let us then trace
those belonging to the firm mentioned above.

The waggons are drawn up by the side of the plat-
forin, in such a position as to be easily unladen. The
cranes are set to work, and all the packages are taken
out. As each one is lifted out, it 18 weighed, and the
weight and other particulars entered into a book bya
clerk occupying one of the numerous temporary desks
with which the warehouse is provided. <A porter car-
ries it in a Jow-wheeled carriage to one of several
groups on the western side of the platform. As the
eastern side is classified into different London districts,
80 is the western side into different country districts ac-
cording to the trains proceeding thereto, and to the
trucks furnished by the different companics. The
clerk, on hearing or reading the inscription on each
package, knows the group to which it should be con-
signed, and the porter takes it accordingly. As this
plan is acted on with respect to every package, and as
the operations of the ‘up’ and ‘ down’ traffic are going
on at one time, the warehouse presents, as the night
advances, a very remarkable scene. The platform
becomes occupied by an enormous mass of valuable
merchandize, apparently in the utmost confusion, but
really classified with almost unerring precision. All
the posts on the eastern side have become the centres of
town groups of goods; while all those on the western
side are similarly the centres of country groups. The
two classes of operations are carried on independent of
each other at the same time; a totally distinct staff of
clerks and porters being appropriated to each.

As soon as the railway-trucks bringing goods by an
‘up train are unladen, they are wheeled to the west-
ern side of the platform, and are then ready to reccive
the goods for the ensuing ‘down’ train. The question
as to which Company's truck will be employed to
carry & particular cargo of goods, will depend princi-

ally on the places to which the goods are consigned.
Different trucks are laden from different groups on the

latform; while the road-waggons are being laden
rom the groups on the eastern side. In order to en-
sure the height of the laden truck being less than that
of the arches and tunnels through which it will have to
travel, it is made to pass under the gauge mentioned in
our last paper, which gauge represents the height of
the Jowest arch on the railroad or railroads. When
the truck is laden, a cloth cover 1s thrown over it to
protect the goods from the weather ; and a printed
ticket is nailed to the side, inscribed with the name of
the place to which the truck is to be forwarded. The
Birmingham Railway takes all the trucks in common;
but where a truck has to pass from that railway toa
second, and perhaps to a third and fourth, careful ar-
rangements are made to avoid confusion.

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

{OcroseEr 22

As the trucks are filled and covered, they are wheeled
out of the warchouse, upon the small railway which con-
nects Messrs. Pickford's premises with the Companys
preinises ; and are then placed in charge of the Company's
servants, who in like manner receive the trucks which
have been laden by other carriers. At six in the morn
ing the first train leaves, and by this train part of the
laden trucks are conveyed; while the remainder arc
dispatched in other trains two or three hours afterwards.
On their arrival at the various stations and termini,
the goods are consigned to the carriers’ servants, who
convey them to the respective destinations, just as the
town waggons do with respect to the goods brought by
the ‘up’ trains. At Birmingham, at Manchester, and
most of the great northern towns there are depéts siinilar
in principle to thatat Camden Town, but much smaller.

A very pleasing feature has been introduced into
the warehouse which we have been describing. As the
clerks and porters are more or less employed there all
night, the proprictors have provided a kitchen and a
cook for dressing any provisions which the men may
have provided for supper or breakfast. No man isal-
lowed to leave the establishment to obtain refreshment,
nor is he allowed to bring ardent spirits into it; but
every desire is shown to conduce to his convenience in
other ways. When he comes in the evening (all being
engaged and paid for night-services only) he places his
mutton-chop, or beef-steak, or dumpling, or potatoes,
or bread and butter, or beer, or coffee, or tea, in the
hands of the cook, whose office it is to prepare every
man’s meal by an appointed time. The kitchen is fitted
up on the modern arrangement—not certainly equal to
the famed Reform Club-House kitchen—but stil] with
all conveniences for baking, frying, broiling, boiling,
stewing, steaming, &c. Each party of men, at a cer-
tain hour in the evening or night, receives from a
clerk a ticket inscribed with the number of men and
the time to be allowed tothem. This ticket is given
to the cook, who prepares the men’s provisions by the
appointed hour, provides them wit the necessary
plates, cups, saucers, &c., and dispatches them out of
his kitchen when their time has expired. The ope-
rations of the kitchen are going on more or less during
the whole night, as different hours are given to
different parties of men. The arrangements are so
systematic, and at the same time so kind, that there
cannot be the smallest doubt that benefit is derived
both by masters and men from this plan.

A few words concerning the horses. When the
town waggons have conveyed goods from the various
London districts to the depét at Camden Town
for the ‘ down’ trains, the horscs are taken out, and
immediately proceed down the inclined path which
leads to the stables beneath. This may be at seven or
cicht o'clock, or it may not be till two or three in
the morning ; but the horses in either case proceed to
rest in the stables. When the waggons, Jaden during
the night with goods which have been brought by the
‘up’ trains, are ready to be dispatched from the
depdét to various parts of London, the horses are taken
from the stables, harnessed, and led up to the ware-
house, there to be attached to the waggon.

The building in which all these operations are
carried on is one of the most remarkable of its class,
porians anywhere to be seen. The area of the ware-

ouse is almost exactly double that of Westminster
Hall; being about two hundred and thirty feet long by
a hundred and forty in width. The roof, divided into
three sections, and supported by two rows of pillars,
exhibits nearly an acre of slating. and a hundred sky-
lights. The whole wareliouse is vaulted beneath;
and so enormous are the weights which these vaults
have to support, that more than three millions of bricks
werc used, principally in their construction.

1842. ]

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

413

{Mansion at Moor Park.]

RAILWAY RAMBLES.
MOOR PARK.

ConTinuinG along the same road as that we pursued
on our last ramble to Cassiobury, and passing the
lodge of the latter, a delightful walk of two or
three miles brings us to the little country-looking
town of Rickmansworth, from whence Moor Park is
but a mile or so distant. One of the most rural of
lanes or bye-roads conducts us to an entrance into the

tk, which is famous for its woods and for the undu-
ating varied character of its surface. Before we
have stepped many paces a sight breaks upon us that
is truly beautiful. On the grassy slope rising on our
right, and scarcely fifty yards from us, a herd of deer is
grazing, with the light falling on their fair, sleek, and
dappled coats. As we pause to gaze upon them, one

rises here, another there, tossing their lofty antlers

with a proud disdain, and walking slowly away; whilst
others, apparently satisfied of the innocence of our
intentions, return our glance in a sense of quiet
security. As we draw nearer the house, we get a first
view of it over a terrace wall decorated with vases,
and presently the half-architectural end of the con-
servatory appears; we then turn the corner, and the
building, with its stately and most imposing-looking
portico, is before us. The latter consists of four im-
mense columns, rising, with their bases and Corinthian
capitals, nearly 50 feet, of a proportionable breadth,
and supporting a pediment enriched in the same style.
Around the top of the building is a rich cornice, and a
still more noticeable feature, a large open balustrade,
beautifully relieved as we now look up against the
clear blue sky.
brick by the unfortunate Duke of Monmouth, but
when it came into the possession of B. H. Styles, Esq.,
a gentleman who amassed a splendid fortune by the
South Sea scheme, the whole was cased, as we now see
it, with Portland stone, the portico added, and also

The house was originally built of

two wings, one for the chapel, and the other for offices,
connected with the centre by colonnades of the Tuscan
order. The architect was the Italian Giacomo Leoni.
The expense of the mere carriage of the stone used in
these isrations and additions amounted to nearly
14,000/._ The wings are now gone (although the con-
padi forms a kind of wing projecting at right
angles from the line of the house, at a few yards
distance) ; for during the period Mr. Rous, a director of
the East India Company, was the owner of the property,
that gentleman having thrown up his directorship in
the expectation of obtaining a place at the Board of
Control under Mr. Fox’s famous India bill, and being
disappointed, eked out an insufficient fortune by dis-
posing of the wings for the value of the materials.

Let us now ascend the steps of the portico, and
enter the hall. This is a place of surpassing grandeur
in the peculiar style which prevails through it,
though the style itself is not one deserving of much
admiration. The hall is square, very large, and profuse
to an excess has been the expenditure on its decoration.
Immense paintings, large compositions in a_ kind
of stucco, military trophies, &c., and solid white
marble doorways, no less than five in number, and
with double sculptured figures of some size over the
pediments, wantin dito of Prudence and Piety,
Pastoral and Civil Life, Plenty and Victory, Peace and
Concord, Wisdom and Power,—these are the chief
ornaments of the lower portion of the walls; above
projects a gallery all round, with gilt railings, behind
which we see five more solid white marble doorways,
a range of imitation statues in imitation niches; and
lastly the ceiling is one mass of paint and gilding,
divided into compartments, the centre containing a

ainted imitation of the dome of St. Peter’s at Rome.
ut not all this rich and elaborate display can hide
the poverty of the architecture; the airy lightness and
varying combination of forms in which are altogether
wanting in the hall of Moor Park. But such was the

414

architecture of the last century. The chief pictures are
those which decorate the three sides of the wall, form-
ing a series illustrative of the story of Io from Ovid’s
Metamorphoses. In the first picture Jupiter 1s entreat-
ing Jo to listen to his suit, whilst a roguish-looking
Cupid stands leaning on his bow, looking on:
“ Hor, just returning from her father’s brook,
Jove had beheld with a desiring look,” &c.
Inthe second Jo appears transformed into a beautiful
white heifer, placed by the jealous Juno under the care
of Argus, whilst Mercury, commissioned by Jove to kill
Argus and set free Jo, is trying to lull the former to
sleep by music. Mercury leans gracefully against a
tree, and Argus, sitting, bends eagerly torward to
listen to his ‘‘ sweet pipings :”
‘¢ With pleasure, the musician Argus heeds ;
But wonders much at those new vocal reeds.

While Hermes piped and sung and told his tale,
The keeper's winking eyes begin to fail,

And drowsy slumber in his lids to creep,

Till all the watchman was at length asleep.”

In the third picture we see Argus with his head
dropped on the rock, and Mercury in the act of un-
sheathing his sword, whilst Jove looks very com-
placently from the clouds above. Mercury

“ Without delay his crooked falchion drew,
And at one fatal stroke the keeper slew,
And all his hundred eyes, with all their light,
Are closed at once in one perpetual night.”

We may observe by the way, that although the poet
speaks of the hundred eyes, the painter, in despair of
representing any such monster, has contented himself
with representing Argus with the good old-fashioned
number of two only. In the last picture we see no
more of Jo, but are introduced to a kind of apotheosis
of Argus. Juno, seated on a throne of clouds, receives
from Mercury the head of her faithful but unfortunate
servant, and, to commemorate his history and watch-
fulness, preserves the memory of his eyes in con-
nection with her favourite bird :

“‘ These Juno takes, that they no more may fail,
And spreads them in her peacock's gaudy tail :”

all which is duly represented in the picture. “These

aintings,” observes the author of the account of Moor

ark, in the ‘ Beautiesof England and Wales,’ whose
opinion we pee giving to that of our own, “are in
general well executed; and the circumstances of the
rtory are treated with propriety and judgment. The
colouring is chaste, but not brilliant: the artist is un-
known.” The last remark is hardly correct. In a little
manuscript account of Moor Park, kept in the hall, and
‘of course prepared under the inspection of those best
qualified to judge of the correctnese of such matters,

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

[OcroBER 22,

the paintings are ‘supposed ”’ to be by an Italian artist
of the name of Amicom. Among the curiosities of the
hall are two tall Chinese pagoda towers of porcelain,
an antique chair, and a saddle said to have belonged to
cee: Wolsey, one of the former possessors of the
place.

Passing ube the centre doorway of the opposite
wall, we reach the saloon, where are the works painted
by Sir James Thornhill, for which that artist brought
an action-at-law and obtained a verdict of 3500/. On
the ceiling is an immensc painting of Aurora, copied
from Guido’s in the Respigliari palace, whilst four
paintings of the Seasons adorn the walls. On the whole
the saloon has a gaudy and heavy appearance, over
which the eye passes without the possibility of relief or
repose. Where the walls are not covered with the
paintings, they exhibit dark grounds, garish ornaments,
and profuse gildings. Ona table here are two more

agoda towers, but much smaller, and formed of rice.

rom the saloon we pass to the grand staircase, where
the first thing that meets the eye is a row of three
Chinese painted figures the size of life, with, as our
attendant carefully informs us, nodding heads. These
Chinese curiosities are probably some of the memorials
of a famous voyage, and a famous man, another of the
former possessors of Moor Park, Lord Anson, the great
navigator, to whom we shall have occasion again to
recur. Except in the matter of the paintings on the
walls, the staircase, by contrast with the richly gilded
hall, looks as though the decorators were getting dis-
satisfied with the great expenditure involved, and had
stopped short here. These paintings too chiefly form a
series, illustrative of one of the fables of antiquity
as told in the pages of the same Roman poet, the fable
of Pluto and Proserpine.

Among the other interesting rooms of the building
may be mentioned the dining-room with its stucco ceil-
ing and figures, and deep-coved cornice, its two or
three smal! but good pictures, and its charming views
into the park ; the blue drawing-room ; a bed-room
with a curious Chinese painting on the back of the
glass, which is silvered over like a mirror ; her lady-
ship’s morning-room with a rich little Holy Family;
and the drawing-room, a superb apartment, and, to our
fancy, in infinitely better taste than any of the parts
we have quitted. It is long, moderately broad, and
sufficiently lofty; on one sidea range of windows opens
upon the noble park, where you look over beds of
flowers in full bloom, and through long vistas of green
trees, to the distant hills, now bathed in purple mist,
and above is a very beautiful ceiling in compartments,
where the little groups and single figures from the
antique are not only in themselves beautiful, but forin
a delightful relief to the more pretending works we
have recently noticed. They are set ina most delicate
frame-work of scroll ornaments in painting and gold,
which run over the whole ceiling in endless variety.
The chimney-piece here is astriking object. It is sup-
ported by two full-length figures, having rock-work,
coral. &c. in their hands, and along the front at the

1812.]

top isa row of small figures dancing hand in hand,
relieved by the rich blue colour which forms the back-
ground, the only colour about the work, the remainder
consisting entirely of white marble of the most brilliant
and spotless kind.

Leaving the house, we proceed to view the greatest
attraction of Moor Park, the beautiful pleasure-grounds,
which occupy not less than twenty-five acres, and have
some interesting history attached to them. But as this
history connects itself with diiterent possessors of the
mansion and grounds, we may here pause to notice
what has been recorded of any moment concerning

both.
{To be continued.)

ON THE LOCAL WINDS OF WARM COUN-
TRIES.

In nearly all countries lying within or contiguous to
the tropical regions, local winds are occasionally ex-
perienced, to which, as agents producing very marked
effects, the natives are accustomed to aifix particular
names. Such are the sirocco, the solano, the khamsin,
the simoom, the harmattan, &c. The nature of these
winds cannot be well understood unless we contrast
them with the great trade-wrnd, from which all are
more or less exceptions. The cool air of the polar and
temperate regions has a tendency to flow towards the
equator, to supply the place of that which is expanded
and rarefied by the heat of the tropics; so that there
is always a vertical ascent of air at the equator, and a
lateral flow thereto from the poles. An inhabitant at
the equator would hence experience almost constant
north and south winds. But as the earth is rotating
on its axis, and as the particles of air cannot at once
acquire a velocity equal to that of the parts of the
earth’s surface over which they successively arrive in
their transit, the northern and southern currents will
gradually seem to acquire a motion in an opposite
direction to that of the rotation of the earth; that is,
both will gradually decline to the west, assuming in
the northern hemisphere the character of a N.E., and
in the southern that of a S.E. wind; whilst both will
become more easterly as they approach the equator.
From the facilities which these winds afford to naviga-
tion, they are called the trade-winds ; and a modifica-
tion of ae iu the Indian Ocean produces the mon-
goons, or alternate dry and rainy seasons.

Of the peculiar winds, either hot and dry, or hot
and muist, which generally result from the local posi-
tion and physical character of a country, the szrocco 1s
one of the few experienced in Europe. It occurs in
the islands and coasts in the Mediterranean, such as
Italy, Sicily, and the Jonian Islands. The sirocco is
generally felt in these places when the wind comes
from S.E. or S.S.E., and its approach rs known by the
peculiar sensations felt throughout the animal system ;
there is a general lassitude or torpor of the muscular
system, attended by heaviness and oppression, inducing
an inaptitude to any exertion, cither mental or corpo-
real; everything that is touched is damp and clammy,
particularly the clothes, which feel as if they had been
wrung out of water; the appetite is impaired, thirst
increased, and perspiration profuse; while there is a
sensation of burning heat in the chest. Independent
of these effects in the animal system, Mr. Montgoinery
Martin * gives many curious examples of other results
produced by this wind. The walls of houses, stone-
floors, and pavements, invariably become moist when
the sirocco blows; and yet vegetables appear as if
shrivelled up for want of moisturc. Wine bottled
during a sirocco is Biree | injured and often destroyed,
and incat becomes tainted very quickly. No carpenter

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

415

uses glue during the sirocco, for it does not adhere ;
nor will a painter willingly work at this time, for the
paint will not dry, or if apparently dried by a subse-
quent dry wind, the wet paint oozes out. Bakers
diminish the quantity of their leaven at this period, as
dough is found to ferment sufficiently without it. Dr.
Hennen* remarks, in reference to the action of the
sirocco on man, “I have scarcely ever met an indivi-
dual who was not more or less sensible to these effects ;
some who have felt them but slightly on their first
arrival, have become exquisitely sensible to them
after some time; many can foretell the approach of a
Sirocco some time before it begins to blow, by the
peculiarities of their feelings; and there are few in-
deed ‘who cannot at once decide that this wind has.
commenced, without making any reference to external.
objects: but it is by the sick and the weakly convales-
cent that its depressing effects are most severely expe-
rienced.”

Nearly allied to the sirocco of Italy is the solano of
Spain. It is dreaded by the Spaniards, who have a
proverb that “no animal, except a pig and an English-
man, are insensible to the solano.” Englishmen, how-
ever, must not be included in this exception; for the
officers and troops at Gibraltar frequently suffer from
the effects. After the bombardment of Algiers in
1816, the wounded English seamen were taken to
Gibraltar; but before they reached there, a solano
sprang up.’ A temporary hospital had been fitted up
on the main deck of one of the ships, and all was going
on well till the dreaded wind was felt, when all the
invalids were affected in an extraordinary manner; the
dressed wounds opened, bilious remittent fevers came
on; and Dr. Quarrier, the surgeon of the fleet, was:
obliged to hasten the departure of the ship from the
coast. There is an aqueduct at one part of the Gibral-
tar fortifications which is seldom opened or entered
during the prevalence of the solano ; for at those times.
the atmosphere within it is foggy, damp, and sultry, to
such a degree, that the perspiration immediately bursts.
forth and flows copiously; whereas the aqueduct is
free from vapour, is cool, and can be entered without
inconvenience or risk during a westerly wind. The
disagreeable associations connected with the solano in
the mind of a Spaniard, as with the sirocco in the mind
of an Italian, are shown by two proverbs prevalent
among them. The Italian condemnation of a stupid
work often is, “ Era scritto in tempo del sirocco’— (“‘ It
was written during the time of the sirocco”) ; while the
Spaniard has an adage, “ Non rogar alguna gracia en
tiempo de solano”—{“ Not to ask a favour during the
solano’’).

Passing over from the European continent to the
more sultry regions of Africa, we find a remarkable
wind, caled the harmattan, blowing from the interior
towards the Atlantic. The nature of this wind has:
been particularly described by Dr. Dobson, in the
‘ Philosophical Transactions ;) and from his account it
appears that between the equator and 15° north lati-
tude the harmattan blows Seed from about the
N.E. in December, January, and February. It comes
on indiscriminately at any hour of the day, at any time
of the tide, or at any period of the moon, and continues
sometimes only a day or two, sometimes five or six
days, or as many as fifteen. There are generally three
or four returns of it every season. A fog or haze
always accompanies the -barmattan, and occasions the
sun to appear of a mild red colour, bearable by the
eye. No dew is formed during its continuance, nor 1s
there the least appearance of moisture in the atmo-
sphere. Vegetables of every kind are much injured ;
all tender plants are destroyed; the leaves of trees
become so parched as to easily crumble between the

* ¢ Medical Topography of the Mediterranean.”

416

fingers; the branches of the lemon, orange, and lime-
trees droop, aud the fruit ripens without acquiring
half the usual size. The pancls of doors become split;
veneered-work flies to pieces ; the joints of a well-laid
floor of seasoned wood open widely ; and iron-bound
casks require the hoops to be frequently driven tighter.
The effects of the wind on the exposed parts of the
body are singular. The eyes, nostrils, lips, and palate
become dry and uneasy, and drink is often required.
The lips and nose become sore, and even chapped ; and
if the harmattan continues four or five days, the outer
skin peels off from the hands and face. And yet the
harmattan is deemed salubrious; it is a healing agent
to those suffering from intermitting fevers or the small-
pox ; it stops the progress of epidemics, and even ren-
ders difficult the communication of infection by artifi-
cial means, such as inoculation.

The most distressing and destructive of all the va-
ricties of wind is perhaps the hot wind of the Desert.
In central Africa, in Libya, in Syria, and in Arabia,
where the soil is covered with a thick stratum of louse
sand, and where the sun’s rays are very powerful, the
wind is often absolutely insupportable. At such time
itis called s#noom, or the “ poison-wind,” by the Arabs;
and Ahamsin by the Syrians, from a word expressive of
the period during which it prevails, viz., at the equi-
noxes. VWolney* has given avery minute account of
this simoom. [Ie compares the heat and suffocating
effect to that which would be felt when standing before
the open mouth of an oven. When this wind is about
commencing, the atmosphere takes an unquiet aspect ;
the sky becomes overcast, the sun loses his brilliancy ;
the air is not cloudy, properly speaking, but is loaded
with small gritty particles, which penetrate everything.
At first the wind 1s not very hot; but as its duration
continues, the temperature rises. Respiration becomes
short and difficult, the skin becomes dry, and the body
seems consuming by ascorching heat. All objects are
alike heated; iron, stone, even water, fail to veld any
cooling effect. The inhabitants of towns and villages
shut themselves up in the houses, while those in the
open Desert take refuge in their tents, or in pits dug
in the ground. “If this wind lasts more than three
days,” says Volney, “it becomes insupportable.” Mi-
serable is the fate of those travellers who are surprised
by such a wind at a distance from any asyluin! They
feel the full effects, which frequently end in death.
When the hot blast is passing rapidly, the heat is so
increased as to take away life almost instantaneously.
This death is a true suifucation; the lungs, respiring
ina kind of vacuum, enter into convulsion; the circu-
lation becomes disturbed in the vessels; the blood
flies from the heart to the head or the chest ; and hence
ensues hemorrhage at the nose and mouth after death.
This wind attacks especially men of a full habit of
body, and also those whose muscles are weakened by
fatigue. The only mode of checking these violent
effects is to cover the mouth and nose with a hand-
kerchief; the camels bury their mouths and noses in
the sand, and there keep them till the violence of the
blast is abated. Another quality of this wind is its
extreme dryness. If water is thrown on the floor of
an apartment, it is evaporated immediately ; and by the
extreme dryness of the air, plants become shrivelled up
and reduced to fraginents. This thirst of the air for
moisture, so to speak, increases the effect of the wind
on the animal frame, by evaporating too rapidly the
perspiration exuding at the pores.

The explanation which Volney gives of the cause of
these hot winds is in principle doubtless correct.
They are always found to occur in countries where
deserts abound, and where the air, meeting neither
with brooks, nor lakes, nor forests, becomes heated by

* 6Voyare on Sytie et cn Reyvpte’

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

[OcroneR 22,

the action of a nearly vertical sun, and by reficxion
from the sandy soil. When, from any atmospheric
cause, this mass of air is set in motion, the pheno-
menon of the hot wind ensues, and particles of scorch-
ing sand are wafted along with the wind itself.

Those peculiar winds which sometimes attack a ship
at sea, and known as hurricanes, tornados, typhons, &c.,
are more or Jess sitniJar to whirlwinds, and depend on
sudden changes in the condition of the atmosphere. In
mountainous countries, Jocal winds assume various pe-
culiarities according to the physical features of the
district. Thus, at the Cape of Good Hope there are
four remarkable mountains, called Table Mountain,
the Sugar-Loaf, James Mount, and the Devil's Head.
In the summer season Table Mountain is sometimes
suddenly covered witha white cloud, called by the
sailors the table-cloth, from its flat and white appear-
ance; and when this cloud seems to roll down the
steep face of the mountain, it is a sure indication of
an approaching gale of wind from the S.E., which ze-
nerally blows with great violence, and soinetimes con-
tinucs fur one or two days. On the first appearance of
this cloud, the ships in Table Bay begin to prepare for
it, by striking yards and topmasts, and making every-
thing as snug as possible. When the cloud appears,
the sailors are wont to say that the “ Old Gentleman”
is about to breakfast, dine, or sup, according to the
hour when this “ table-cloth " is spread.

Wild Flowers.—One characteristic of our native plants we
must mention, that if we miss in them something of the gorgeous-
ness and lustre of more tropical flowers, we are more than com-
pensated by the delicacy and variety of their perfume; and just
as our woods, vocal with the nightingale, the blackbird, aud the
thrush, can well spare the gaudy feathers of the macaw, so we
can consign the oucidiums, the cactuses, and the ipomeeas of the
Tropics, for the delicious fragrauce of our wild banks of violets,
our lilies-of-the-valley, and our woodbine, or even for the passing
whiff of a hawthorn bush, a clover or bean field, or a gorse-com-
mon.— Quarterly Ieview, No. 139.

Latitude popularly exrplained.—We have shown, that in conse-
quence of the spherical surtace of the earth, the Polar Star appears
to a person travelling due North or South to ascend or descend
in the heavens in proportion to the space passed over. Upon this
fact a most important principle iu geography is established,
namely, that the latitude of a place iu the Northern hemisphere
always corresponds to the altitude of the Polar Star; and hence,
to ascertain our distance from the Equator, in the Atlantic
Ocean for instance, we have only to take the altitude of the Polar
Star, and our latitude is determined. If the Polar Star, for in-
stance, is 10, or 20, or 53 deg. above the horizon, we may con-
clude, with perfect certainty, that our distance from the Equa-
tor is 10, or 20, or 53 deg., as the case may be. To make this
periectly clear, suppose we were at. the North Pole of the Earth,
our distance from the Equator, or duéitude, would be 90 deg.,
and the distance of the Polar Star from the horizon, or its ali
dude, would be 90 deg. also; for in that position it would appear
in our zenth, or right above our heads, and consequently 90 deg.
above the horizon. Now, suppose we travel 10 deg. in the di-
rection of the Equator, or due South, our distance from ‘the
Equator would be diminished from 90 to 80 deg., and the Polar
Star would appear to have descended in the heavens in the same
proportion, that is, our dutétade and its altitude would be each £0
dey. If we travel 20 or 30 or any number of degrees under
ninety due South from the Pole towards the Equator, our Jatitude
and the altitude of the Polar Star will be found to decrease in
proportion, Half-way between the Pole and the Equator, for in-
stauce, our latitude will be 45 deg., and the altitude of the Polar
Star 45 deg. also; and if we travel to the Equator there will be
no latitude, because we are no distwuce from it; neither will the
Polar Star have any altitude, for it will in this case be on the
horizon. ‘This simple and beautiful principle in geography not
only enables us, even in the middle of unknown seas, to ascertain
our position on the Earth’s surface with regard to the Equator, but
it also furnishes us with the means of measuring the surface and
determining the maguitude of the Earth.—Sadhran’s Geayraphy
Generalized,

> -*, ae

i?
i
i

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

“Philip Arteveld addressing the people from the window of the Hali in the Market-place.]'

FROISSART AND HIS CHRONICLE.
No. VIII. (concluded).
THE ARTEVELDS.

Tue sufferings of the Pe of Ghent increasing
daily, an attempt was made at negotiation, and a coun-
cil agreed to be held at Tournay, at which certain dis-
tinguished persons and deputies were to meet the Earl
of Flanders, and endeavour to arrange the terms ofa
peace between him and the revolted Ghentese. There
was but little hope of success, for the earl’s mind, em-
bittered not only by the long-continued opposition to
his own authority, but by the hereditary recollections
of his house, was known to be in no mood to agree to
reasonable, much less to humane and merciful con-

No. 678.

ditions ; and on the other hand it seemed almost equally
certain that Philip Arteveld and other of the chief
leaders would rather die than make a disgraceful sub-
mission. Their temper had been sufficiently shown
in an incident of a previous attempt to negotiate. Two
deputies from Ghent, thinking only of the sufferings of
their countrymen, or won by even less creditable in-
fluences, agreed that the town should be surrendered ;
for which Van den Bosch stabbed them to death in the
market-place.

‘“‘When the day desired was come that Philip Arte-
veld should generally report the effect of the council
holden at Tournay, all the people of the town of Ghent
drew them to the market-place on a Wednesday in the
morning, and about nine of the bell, Philip Arteveld,
Peter den Bosch, Peter de Nuitre, Frances Atreman,

Digitized by Gower! x13 H

418

and other caplains came thither, and entered up into
the common-hall. Then Philip leaned out of a window,
and began to speak, and said, ‘ Oh, all ye good people,
it is of truth, that at the desire of the right honourable
lady, my lady of Brabant, and the right noble Duke
Albert, bailiff of Hainault, Holland, and Zealand, and
of my lord the Bishop of Liege, there was a council
held and accorded to be at Tournay, and thereat to be
personally the Earl of Flanders, and so be certified to
these mid lords, who have nobly acquitted themselves:
for they sent thither right notable counsellors, and
knights and burgesses of good towns ; and s0 they and
we of this good town of Ghent were there at the day
assigned, looking and abiding for the Earl of Flanders,
who came not nor would not come; and when they
saw that he came not, nor was not coming, then they
sent to him to Bruges, and there they found him, who
made them great cheer as they said, and heard well
their message. But he answered them and said, that
for the honour of their lords, and for the love of his
sister the lady of Brabant, he said he would send his
council to Tournay within five or six days after, so well
instructed by him, that they should plainly show the
full of his intention and mind. Other answer could
they none have, and so they returned again to Tournay.
And then, the day assigned by the earl, there came
from him to Tournay, the Lord of Raseflez, the Lord of
Goutris, Sir John Vilame, and the provost of Harle-

uebec and Raseflez ; and there they showed graciously
their lord’s will, and certain arrest of this war, how the
peace might be had between the earl and the town of
Ghent. First, determinedly they said, the earl will that
every man in the town of Ghent, except prelates of
church and religious, all that be above the age of fifteen
years and under the age of sixty, that they all in their
shirts, bare-headed and bare-footed, with halters about
their necks, avoid the town of Ghent, and 80 go atwelve
miles thence into the plain of Burlesquans, and there
they shall meet the Earl of Flanders, accompanied with
such as it shall please him ; and so when he seeth us in
that case, holding up our hands and crying for mercy,
then he shall have pity and compassion on us if it please
him. But, sirs.J cannot know by the relation of any of
his council, but that by shameful punition of justice,
there shall suffer death the most ok of the people
that shall appear there that day. Ow, Sirs, space
well if ye will come to peace by this or not.’ When
Philip Arteveld had spoken these words, it was great
pity to see men, women, and children weep, and wring
their hands for love of their fathers, brethren, husbands,
and neighbours. And after this tumult and noise,
Philip Arteveld began again to speak, and said,
‘Peace, sirs, peace,’ and incontinent every man was
still. Then he began to speak, and said, ‘Ah! ye good
people of Ghent, ye be now assembled the most part,
and ye have heard what I have said. Sirs, I see none
other remedy but short counsel, for ye know well what
necessity we be in for lack of victual; I am sure there
be thirty thousand in this town that did eat no bread
this fifteen days passed ; sirs, of three things, we must
of necessity do one. The first is, if ye will let us en-
close ourselves and secure up all our gates, and then
confess us clean to God, and let us enter into the
ehurches and minsters, and so let us die for famine,
repentant of our sins like martyrs, and such people as
nO man will have mercy of; yet in this estate God
shall have mercy of our souls, and it shall be said in
every place where it shall be heard, that we be dead
valiantly, and like true people: or else, secondly, let
us all, men, women, and children, go with halters about
our necks in our shirts, and cry mercy to my lord the
Earl of Flanders; I think his heart will not be so in-
durate, as when he secth us in that estate, but that bis
heart will mollify, and take mercy of his people ; and

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fOcTrossr 29,

as for myself, I will be the first of all to appease his
displeasure ; I shall present my head, and becontent iv
die for them of Ghent: or else, thirdly, let us choose
out in this town five or six thousand men of the most
able and best appointed, and let us go hastily and assail
the earl at Bruges, and fight with him; and if we die
in this voyage, it shall at least be honourable, and God
shall have pity of us, and all the world shall say that
valiantly and truly we have kept and maintained our
quarrel. And in this battle, if God will have pity of
us, as anciently he put his puissance into the hands of
Judas Maccabxus, duke and master of his chivalry,
by whom the Assyrians were discomfited, then shall
we be reputed the most honourable people that hath
reigned since the days of the Romans. Now, sirs. take
good heed which of these three ways ye will take, fur
one of them must ye needs take.’ Then such as were
next him, and had heard him best, said, ‘Ah! sir, all
we have our trust in he to counsel us; and sir, look,
as ye counsel us, so shall we follow.’ ‘By my faith,’
quoth Philip, ‘then I counsel you let us go with an
army of men against the earl; we shall find him at
Bruges, and as soon as he shall know of our coming
he will issue out to fight with us, by the pride of them
at Bruges and of such as be about him, who night and
day informeth and stirreth him to fight with us; and if
God will by his grace that we have the victory, and
discomfit our enemies, then shall we be recovercd
for ever, and the most honoured people of the world;
and if we be discomfited, we shall die honourably, and
God shall have pity of us, and thereby all the other
people in Ghent chal escape, and the earl will have
mercy on them.’ And therewith they all answered
with one voice, ‘We will do thus, we will do thus, we
will make no other end.” This was the spirit Philip
desired to see, and he Jost not a moment in taking ad-
vantage of it. Departing from Ghent with about five
thousand men, he soon reached the neighbourhood of
Bruges, about three miles from which place he halted.
The news of this unexpected, and, as it appeared,
equally desperate and futile march, reached Bruges on
a day of great rejoicing. Immediately rushed forth
the earl with a bodyof eight hundred knights and
squires, followed by ‘an immense assemblage of the
armed citizens, who as they hurried along amused each
other by jokes on the half-starved Ghentese. The
latter had been placed by Arteveld in an admirable
position. A marsh defended the front, and lines of
cars, waggons, &c. their flanks. On they poured—that
wild and disorderly multitude—as though by a single
rush they expected to disperse the small but dense
array before then: A brisk fire of artillery materially
changed their views and line of progress; whilst Arte-
veld by a skilful manceuvre drew the more dangerous
portion of the attacking army into the marsh. From
that moment success was insured. The whole body of
Ghentese swept down upon the earl and his forces, and
but little time elapsed before the people of Bruges
beheld, to their horror, a confused mass of their towns-
men and of the earl’s plumed and bannered chivalr
flying before the pursuing Ghentese, even through
their own gates and streets. The earl was one of
the first to enter, with about forty horsemen, in the
hope of making a stand in the great market-place ; but
so quick were the Ghentese, that they had a large force
there before him, and he saw at last that every chance
had departed, and that his own life or liberty was in
danger. And now follows another of Froissart’s most
interesting stories :—

“About the hour of midnight the earl went from
street to street and by back lanes, so that at the last
he was fain to take a house, or else he had been found
by them of Ghent; and so as he went about the town
he entered into a poor woman’s house, the which was

1842.)

not meet for such a lord: there was neither hall, pa/ys,
nor chamber; it was but a poor smoky house; there
was nothing but a poor hal!, black with smoke, and
above a small plancher (or planked floor), and a ladder
of seven steps to mount upon; and on the plancher
there was a poor couch, whereas the poor woman’s
children lay. Then the earl, sore abashed, and trem-
bling at his entering, said, ‘O good woman, save me:
I am thy lord, the Earl of Flanders; but now I must
hide me, for mine enemies chase me; and if ye do me
good now, I shall reward you hereafter therefore.’
The poor woman knew him well, for she had been
oftentimes at his gate to fetch alms, and had often seen
him as he went in and out a-sporting ; and so inconti-
nent as hap (it happened) was he answered ; for if she
had made any delay, he had been taken talking with
her at the fire. Then she said, ‘ Sir, mount up this
ladder, and lay yourself under the bed that ye find
there, as my children sleep; and so in the mean time
the woman sat down by the fire with another child that
she had in her arms. So the earl mounted up the
plancher as well as he might, and crept in between
the couch and the straw, and lay as flat as he could ;
and even therewith some of the rutters (riders or
horsemen) of Ghent entered into the same house, for
some of them said how they had seen a man enter into
the house before them ; and so they found the woman
sitting by the fire with her child: then they said,
‘Good woman, where is the man that we saw enter
before us into this house, and did shut the door after
him 7 ‘Sir,’ quoth she, ‘I saw no man enter into
this house this night; I went out right now, and cast
out a little water, and did close my door again; if an
were here, I could not tell how to hide him. Ye gee all
the easement I have in this house; here ye may see
my bed, and here above this plancher lieth my poor
children.’ Then one of them took a candle and
mounted up the ladder, and put up his head above the
plancher, and saw there none other thing but the poor
couch where her children lay and slept; and so he
looked all about, and then said to his company, ‘ Go
we hence, we lese the more for the lesse; the poor
woman saith truth, here is no creature but she and her
children :’ and then they departed ont of the house,
after that there was none entered to do any hurt.” On
the following night the earl succeeded in making his
escape from Bruges.

The result of this well-concerted and well-executed
measure was as calamitous to Bruges as it was fortu-
nate for the rival city. The town was given up to

illage, and its commerce in consequence destroyed
or a considerable period. And besides all those who
perished in the battle and in the flight, a horrible car-
nage took place in Bruges of the earl’s people and of
the trades who adhered to him. Arteveld succeeded
in stopping the vengeance of the Ghentcse for their
sufferings in the morning; but after that, various
nobles, magistrates, &c. were sent to the scaffold as
trai‘ors to their country. This victory placed Flanders
at the foot of Philip Arteveld, who assumed all the
pomp of sovereignty. His success happened at a
critical time. Through a considerable portion of
Europe the institutions of feudalism were fast breaking
up. and the people becoming daily more aware of their
natural rights, whilst unfortunately utterly destitute
in most cases of the knowledge how best to retain them
or to use them when obtained. The continental princes
were alarmed, and united against the common danger
under the banner of the young king of France, Charles
VI. In November, 1382, the sacred Oriflamme was
displayed in the midst of an immense army, com-
manded by the skilful and cruel Olivier de Clisson,
and which was advancing towards Ghent. It stopped
at Koosebeke, between Courtray and Ghent, whither,

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

419

unfortunately for his cause, Arteveld advanced to meet
them. His usual judgment too seems to have deserted
him in the posting of his army, which, if inferior in
skill, was equal in numbers, and animated, we may
well conceive, by a higher spirit than the more mer-
cenary masses of the French. But Arteveld, as the
event showed, crowded them so closely together that
they had not room to fight.

Froissart’s account of Arteveld the night preceding
the battle is even more dramatic and poetical than
usual, Whilst he slept ona couch, a certain “ damsel
about the hour of midnight issued out of the pavilion
to look out on the air, and to see what time of the
night it was by likelihood, for she could not plee(
she looked towards Roosebeke, and she saw in the sky
divers fumes and fires flying ; it was of the fires that
the Frenchmen made under hedges and bushes. This
damsel hearkened, and, as she thought, she heard
great bruit between their host and the French host;
she thought she heard French cries, crying, ‘ Mount-
joy!’ ‘St. Denis!’ and other cries, and this she
thought was on Mount Dorre, between them and
Roosebeke. Of this thing she was sore afraid, and so
entered the pavilion, and suddenly awaked Philip,
and said, ‘ Sir, sir, rise up shortly and arm you, for I
have heard a great noise on the Mount Dorre; I
believe it to be the Frenchmen that are coming to
assault you.’ With these words he rose. and cast on
a gown, and took his axe in his hand, and issued out
of the pavilion to see what it was; and as the damsel
had showed him, he heard the same himself, and it
seemed to him that there was a great tournament on
the said hill; then incontinent he entered into his
pavilion, and caused his trumpet to be blown. As
soon as the trumpet had blown, every man rose and
armed him. They of the watch sent incontinent to
Philip Arteveld to know for what cause he stirred up
the host, seeing there was no cause why, showing him
how they had sent to their enemy’s host, and there was
no stirring. ‘ Why,’ quoth Philip, ‘wherefore rose
that noise on the Mount Dorre >’ ‘Sir,’ quoth they,
‘we heard the same noise, and sent thither to know
what it was; and they that went hath made report, that
when they came there, they heard nor saw noihing: and,
Sir, because we found nothing, we made no noise
thereof for stirring up the host; if we should have
atirred them without a cause, we ought to have been
blamed for our labour.’ And when they of the watch
had showed Philip these words, he appeased himself
and all the host ; howbeit, he had marvel in his mind
what it might be: some said it was fiends of hell, that
played and tourneyed there as the battle should be
the next day, for joy of the great prey that they were
likely to have there.” ;

The battle was one of the briefest and bloodiest on
record ; it Jasted only half an hour, but in that time the
Flemings were so utterly broken up and disorganized,
that 25,000 of their number on the whole fell that day.
Arteveld himself was wounded and beaten down
among his men, and thus perished. His body, in a
spirit of impotent malice, was hung ona gibbet.

In quitting this subject, we may observe that a living
writer has paid one of the highest compliments to
Froissart’s excellences, by following him in almost
every page in the incidents of the well-known
dramatic poem of ‘ Philip van Arteveld.’ The author
indeed makes a point of noticing his continual obli-
gations to

‘‘ That ancient writer whose romantic heart
Loved war in every shape, its pride, its art,
Its shows, appurtenances ; whose page is still
The theatre of war, turn where we will :
That old historian, of whose truthful text
I dog the heels,” &c.

3H 2

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

fOcToBER 29,

es >
0 any bs 5a ae
SS 4 =) ‘ A
“ade SP geht
sy

“+
3

“View from the Italian Garden, Moor Park.)
RAILWAY RAMBLES.

MOOR PARK.
(Concluded from page 415. ,

THE earliest mention of the Manor of the Moor
vccurs in the particulars of a curious dispute at law in
the fifteenth century, when the Abbot of St. Alban’s
complained that the tenant who held the estate from him
refused either to pay his quit-rents or to perform cer-
tain covenanted services, among which was the finding
for the abbot and his successors one nag-horse to carry
him to Tynemouth, whenever he, or they, should visit
that cell. The cause was decided in favour of the
abbot. We next find the Moor in the possession of
Ralph de Boteler, lord of Sudely in Gloucestershire,
who paid one penny yearly as acknowledgment that he
held it from the Abbot of St. Alban’s. During the wars
of the Roses, he was unfortunate enough to be on the
wrong or unsuccessful side, and was accordingly ar-
rested here by Edward IV., whoat the same time took
sesadrase of the estate. By Edward it appears to
ave been granted to the brother of the great king-
maker, George Neville, archbishop of York, who
built or rebuilt the mansion. In this the king was fre-
quently entertained ; till one day, when he was staying
here with the Duke of Clarence and Warwick, as he
_ was washing his hands before supper an attendant
whispered in his ear that armed men were lurking
near the house. The period was just after the hollow
reconciliation concluded between the all-powerful
Warwick and the not very powerful king, in 1469.
Edward had little appetite for supper after this;
watching his opportunity, he got secretly to horse, and
flew with the greatest possible speed to Windsor
Castle. Soon after the archbishop was confined at
the “Moor,” in a kind of honourable restraint, in
consequence no doubt of the king’s growing jealousy
of his brother. When subsequently Warwick took the
bold step anticipated, and changed sides, and fell, the
archbishop was committed to the Tower; and although
he was subsequently restored to the king’s favour, it
was but for a short period. The archbishop, says
Godwin, the ecclesiastical historian, “was hunting

with the king at Windsor, when he made relation to
him of some extraordinary kind of game wherewith he
was wont to solace himself, at a house which he had
built and furnished sumptuously, called the Moor,
in Hertfordshire. The king seeming desirous to be
a partaker of this sport, appointed a day when he would
come thither and hunt, and make merry with him.
Hereupon the archbishop, taking his Jeave, got him
home, and thinking to entertain the king in the best
manner it was possible for him, he sent for much plate
that he had hid during the wars, and also borrowed
much of his friends. The deer which the king hunted
being thus brought into the toils, the day before his
appointed time he sent for the archbishop, command-
ing him, all excuses set apart, to repair presently to
him at Windsor. As soon as he came, he was arrested
of treason ; all his money, plate, and moveables, to the
value of twenty thousand pounds, seized upon for the
king, and himself a long space after was kept prisoner
at Calais and Guisnes, during which time the king
took upon himself all the profits and temporalities of the
bishopric. Many other things were then taken from
him; he had a mitre of inestimable value, by reason of
many rich stones wherewith it was adorned, that the
king broke, and made thereof a crown for himself.’’
This last blow appears to have broken the archbishop’s
heart; he dicd in 1476, “as was thought of gricf and
anguish of mind.”

After the death of the Archbishop of York, the manor
remained in the possession of the crown, till it was given
by Henry VII. to John, earl of Oxford, the nobleman
who did him such excellent service at Bosworth, where
he led the van of the army. Like many other of our
ancient manors, its history still continues to form a
running commentary upon the unsettled state of the
relations existing between the aristocracy and the
supreme head of the government down to a very recent
period. It was not long before it reverted to the
crown; then was granted to Cardinal Wolsey, again to
be taken possession of, till finally it was settled on the
Earl of Bedford by James I. The next possessor was
William, earl of Pembroke, who divided what was
called the Moor Park estate from the manor, and sold

1942. ]

it to Robert Carey, earl of Monmouth, a third son of
Lord Hunsdon. It is this estate which is now known
as Moor Park, and on which stands the mansion we
have described. Among its different possessors since
this division have been Thomas, earl of Ossory, who
married a descendant of Maurice, Prince of Orange;
the Duke of Monmouth, son of Charles II., beheaded
by his uncle James; B. H. Styles, Esq., who, as we
have seen, expended such immense sums here; and
Lord Anson, the great navigator, whose history forms
the most interesting of the memories connected with
Moor Park.

Anson was the son of a gentleman of good family in
Staffordshire, who, early experiencing the delight he
took in everything that related to the sea, with its
thousand romantic and picturesque features, gave him
such an education as would best fit him for a naval
life. When he entered the service he speedily at-
tracted attention by his enthusiasm and ability, and
rose from station to station, and had important com-
missions intrusted to him. At the breaking out of the
Spanish war a wider field was opened for his exertions,
and he did not fail to improve the occasion to the
utmost. He was appointed, in 1740, to the command
of a small squadron, with orders to harass the coasts
of Chili and Peru, and-to co-operate when neces-
sary with Admiral Vernon across the Isthmus of
Darien. Late in the year, and with ships utterly in-
adequate to the dangers of the navigation they had to
encounter, the squadron departed. Before it reached
Cape Horn the weather was so bad that Anson found
his little fleet entirely dispersed ; and when he reached
Juan Fernandez, in June, 1741, it was with his own
ship only, and with a crew reduced by the ravages of
scurvy two hundred in number; whilst among the two
or three hundred remaining there were scarcely
enough in health to perform the indispensable duties
of the ship. Here, however, at last the missing
vessels joined him, but in a like deplorable condition ;
and on reviewing his little force, he found the entire
number of men under his command amounted to just
three hundred and thirty-five. But the conquest over
difficulties is one of the great lessons that genius seems
destined to teach us: Anson, cpp as he was, and
unable to do what had been originally planned for him,
could and would do something. For eight months he
kept the Spanish coasts in continual alarm, durin
which he captured several small vessels, and burne
one town. Buta more important project was in Anson's
mind. Jt struck him that if he could but intercept
one of those great Spanish treasure-ships which sailed
annually between the colonies and the mother-country,
he should well repay all parties for the expenses of the
expedition, and turn failure in one direction into an
important success in another. The ship he designed
to intercept was the Manilla or Acapulco galleon,
rumoured to be laden with an immense amount of
bullion and other valuables. Hovering for some time
on the western American coast, he struck out upon
the East Pacific, which he had to cross. In his wayhe
was obliged to destroy the other vessels, for it became.
no longer possible to man them; and even when that
was done, his own ship, the Centurion, possessed but
half her proper complement. The ship too was in a
terribly shattered condition, and scurvy still existed.
Anson first landed at Tinian, an uninhabited island of
the Ladrones, where the fascinating beauty of the
place tempted him into astay, but too much needed,
»ut which had nearly proved fatal. Whilst he and the
greater part of his crew were on shore one day, the
vessel was driven from her moorings and borne out to
sea, possibly never to return. Anson, perhaps, never
snowed more strongly the native energy of his mind
than at this crisis, Calmly and cheerfully he set about

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

42]

the erection of another vessel, such a one as their
means would allow them to make, and not till the
return of the Centurion, and the outpouring of his
feelings at that almost unhoped-for occurrence, were
his companions aware how great had been his anxiety
for their fate, and his suffering at the apparent failure
of all his objects.

With renewed health and spirits the ship now pro-
ceeded to China, and in November, 1742, reached Ma-
cao. Here he stayed forsome time, refitting hisship, and
reinforcing his hands: during this period, most pro-
bably, were collected the Chinese curiositics we have
mentioned in our account of the mansion. In 1743
he started for the Straits of Manilla, where at last all his
labours, and anxieties, and mortifications were at once
rewarded by the sight of the Spanish galleon. Although
carrying forty guns, she was soon captured. Even in
that hour of success, Anson’s fortitude had another
sharp trial. A fire broke out near the powder-room
of the Centurion, which was only extinguished through
the same unfailing presence of mind that had already
repeatedly saved the expedition. The prize was indeed
a magnificent one, worth not less than 313,000/.__ For-
tune, as if weary of persecuting a man whom it affected
so little, now as signally favoured him. In approach-
ing England he actually passed (during a fog) through
an enemy’s fleet, as unaware of their presence as they
of his. He now at once became popular, and rose
step by step to the peerage. We nced not follow his
history further than to say, that on his purchasing
Moor Park (where he died) he commenced a grand
scheme of improvement on the grounds, which cost
him on the whole not less than 80,000/. Our readers,
remembering what we have before stated as to Mr.
Styles’s expenditure of 150,000/., may naturally wonder
what kind of place that must be on which 230,000.
has been expended by two proprietors for the mere
improvement of a mansion and its pleasure-grounds.
But if we go back Lge these two, toa third, the
entire expenditure, within a single century or so, must
be truly enormous. “ The pertectest figure of a garden
I ever saw,” says Sir William Temple, writing in the
last century, “either at home or abroad, was that of
Moor Park in Hertfordshire, when [ knew it about
thirty years ago. {t was made by tle Countess of Bed-
ford, esteemed among the greatest wits of her time,
and celebrated by Dr. Donne (the poet); and with
very great care, excellent contrivance, and much cost.”
Such then was the state of things prior to the improve-
ments of Mr. Styles and Lord Anson. But the chief
cause of such expenses was no doubt simply this, that
each successive proprietor seems to have undone more or
less what be found, in accordance with the alteration of
taste in landscape gardening which had taken place
about his time. Let us now look at the grounds as
they were when presenting “the perfectest figure ” Sir
William Temple “ cver saw” and as they now are.

“ Tt lies,” continues Sir William, “ on the side of a
hill, upon which the house now stands, but not very
steep. The length of the house, where the best rooms
and of most use or pleasure are, lies upon the breadth
of the garden; the great parlour opens into the middle
of a terrace gravel-walk that lics even with it, and
which may be, as I remember, three hundred paces
long, and broad in proportion; the border set with
standard laurels, and at large distances, which have the
beauty of orange-trees out of flower and fruit. By
this walk are three descents by many stone steps, in
the middle and at each end, into a very large parterre.
This is divided into quarters by gravel walks, and
adorned with two fountains, and eight statues in the
several quarters. At the end of the terrace-walk are
two summer-housts, and the sides of the parterre are
ranged with two large cloisters open to the garden

422 THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

upon arches of stone, and ending with two other sum-
mer-houses even with the cloisters, which are paved
with stone and designed for walks of shade, there being
none other in the whole parterre. Over these two
cloisters are two terraces covered with lead, and fenced
with balusters; and the passage into these airy walks
is out of the two summer-houses at the end of the first
terrace-walk. Thecloister facing the south is covered
with vines, and would have been proper for an orange-
house, and the other for inyrtles or other more common
greens, and had, I doubt not, been used for that purpose,
if this piece of gardening had been then in as much
vogue as itis now. From the middle of this parterre
is a descent by many steps, flying on each side of a
rrotto that lies between them, covered with lead and
flat, into the lower garden, which is all fruit-trees
ranged about the several quarters of a wilderness
which is very shady; the walks here are green, the
grotto embellished with figures of shell rock-work,
fountains, and water-works. If the hill had not ended
with the lower garden, and the wall were not bounded
by the common way that goes through the park, they
might have added a third quarter of all greens; but
this want is supplied by a garden on the other side the
house, which is all of that sort, very wild, shady, and
adorned with rough rock-work and fountains. This
was Moor Park, when I was acquainted with it, and
the sweetest place, I think, that I have seen in my life,
either before or since, at home or abroad.”* Walpole’s
commentary upon this is more witty than complimen-
tary: “Any man might design and dbutld as sweet
a garden, who had been born in and never stirred out
of Holborn.” Lord Anson seems to have been of Wal-
pole’s opinion; for when Moor Park became his, he
destroyed the whole, introduced Brown and his natural
system, under whose management a new range of
pleasure-grounds at some little distance on the eastern
side of the house was formed (whither we shall pre-
sently direct our steps); and ay laid out an admir-
able kitchen and fruit garden, where he planted the
apricot since so celebrated as ‘ The Moorpark.’

Going through the mansion, and issuing from it on
the opposite side to that where we entered, we have a
striking illustration of the revolutions of taste ; to our
surprise the ground before the northern front seems to
have partially again put on the former aspect. Here
is a magnificent terrace extending the whole length of
the house, and we descend the steps to greensward in
geometrical patterns, gravel walks, statues, fountains,
and parterres. But as we turn to the left we see no
long laurelled walk : that has not been revived; neither
do we see any signs of stone-paved cloisters with leaden
roofs. The truth seems to be, that in every system of
gardening, and indced in all other matters that obtain
the general approbation ofa period, there is something
good ; ard most probably a good that is especially
wanted to modify or correct some former evil: but in-
sicad of patiently analyzing both, so as to combine their
advantages and reject their disadvantages, the old is
turn up root and branch, and the new looked upon as
precisely what was wanted ; till time discovers its defi-
ciencies also; when either the same process is repeated
with respect tosome fresh novelty, or there is a judi-
cious recurrence to past experience fora less sweeping
remedy: the last has been the case at Moor Park under
the management of its present proprietor, the Marquis
of Westminster. None of the stone and mortar and
lead absurdities of the old system, or the long double
straight ranks of evergreens, are now permitted; but
there 1S a terrace which it dues one good to walk over,
so magnificent is the effect of the broad and long
esplanade, with its picturesque and umbrageous foliage
onthe right towards the house, and its Jow wall (on the
* As transcribed by Walpole, iu his tract on Modern Gardening.

[OcroBER 29,
other side of which the ground falls to a considerable
depth), cutting acrossas it were the bottom of the beauti-
ful picture which opens on the left, where the deer are
seen sporting in the valley of the foreground, noble
clumps of forest-trees beyond, and then, through an
opening near the centre,a fine perspective of undu-
lating and richly wooded scenery. Besides the vases,
the only ornaments of the terrace are two large stone
seats, one at each end, from the designs of the late Lady
Farnborough. All is simple, massive, grand, and,
which after all is half the secret of the success, strictly
applicable: for the sudden descent of the ground
(artificially made, but not the less rea] in appearance)
suggests at once the idea that there could be no walk
here but for the terrace. At the farther end, the
ground descends on the right as well as on the Jett;
where accordingly we find a flight of steps by which
we again pass into the pleasure-grounds, here disposed
into a little secluded dell, which seems peculiarly
charming from the contrast with the open space we
have quitted.

To reach the more distant pleasure-grounds laid out
by Lord Anson, we repass the house, noticing by the
way the opening between the hills in front of it, which
was made by Mr. Styles at an expense of 50007. Pope,
in his ‘ Moral Essays,’ thought this worthy of notice :

‘“‘ Or, cut wide views through mountains to the plain,
You'll wish your hill or shelter'd seat again.”
“ This,” he adds in a note, “ was done in Hertfordshire
by a wealthy citizen, by which means, merely to over-
look a dead plain, he let in the north wind upon bis
house and parterre, which were before adorned and
detended by beautiful woods.” A satirist’s facts are
the most suspicious of things: we may look in vain
for the “dead plain” here; on the contrary, we see a
fertile valley through which flow the waters of the
Gade and Colne, handsome mansions, picturesque
villages, and the light tower of the distant church of
Watford. It is the only direction too in which there is
an extensive view from the base of the mansion.
Crossing the park eastwards, and gradually ascending,
we reach a rustic gate, which opens into a winding
walk richly lined with evergreens, some of the laurels
actually forming great trees. This presently brings
us to the most delightful part of the pleasure-grounds
of Moor Park. This is a kind of amphitheatre, with
a large pond, which might for its size and appearance
be called a small lake, in the bottom, and groups of
the loftiest furest-trees scattered about the ascent on
the sides. This is soon lost, as we pursue the course of
the walk which leads us among wildernesses of knotted
trunks and gnarled overhanging boughs which the
melancholy Jaques might have luxuriated in, and is
then again regained at a much greater elevation; where
we look down upon it, and from the opposite side.
Here stands a kind of temple, or square stone in-
closure, with lofty columns of Portland stone (from the
old wings of the mansion), the only architectural
decoration of the grounds. Again we leave the amphi-
theatre, and again find fresh beauties to repay us:
as we arrive at the highest point, a circular arca, shut
in on all sides but one, we see on that one, over the line
of low laurels with their glossy leaves glittering so
brightly in the sun, a beautiful open country suddenly
revealed, stretching far below and away, studded
with a thousand interesting features. Leaving this
area, we at last arrive at the end of all, and truly it
were difficult to imagine anything finer that art could
accomplish with the ineans that previously existed here.
You are now at a considerable height above the orna-
mental water, which forms as it were the first pause
or step of a magniicently descending avenue, bevond
which. and still lower. the entire mansion appears, for
the first time, as the natural close. We must observe

1842.] THE PENNY
in conclusion, that the trees of these grounds would
form the finest study possible for the artist; so varied
are they, and so truly perfect each in its individual
characteristics. The following we must mention.
Standing on the spot just referred to, the eye is drawn
away, even from the view described, by the appearance
of aclump, as it seems, of spruce firs, so regularly
pyramidal in shape, from the lower branches, the
extremities of which actually lie on the ground at
an iminense distance, to the taper top, which ascends
to a vast heicht, that no one can witness them without
wonder and admiration. Going nearer, we find to our
astonishment that this clump, as it seemed, is but one
tree. As we walk round it, a distance of nearly two
hundred and fifty feet, we can hardly believe but that
there is some deception—some trick of Nature to en-
hance her own wonders. At one part there is an
opening among the branches, by which we may enter
the gigantic screen ; when we perceive it is truly but
One tree, one parent trunk, although many other
trunks, having issued from that, spread along the
rround for some space, and then rise like so many
columns upwards, the whole presenting the appearance
we have described.

ON THE SOURCES AND USES OF WAX.

Most varieties of wax, propery so called, are the pro-
duce of the bee modified more or less by artificial
processes. Until within the last few years, it was not
clearly known whence this secretion was produced.
The substances which the bee collects are the honey of
flowers, the pollen or farina, and syrupy food supplied
by the bee-keeper ; and it used to be supposed that as
the saccharine ingredients conduce to the formation of
hive-honey, so does the wax result from the pollen of
flowers. The bees collect the pollen on their thighs,
carry it tothe hive, and there—according to the old
theory—elaborate it intowax. There have been, how-
ever, such facts accumulated, as show that this cannot
be the case. First, where no more comb or waxen
structure is to be built in the hive, as in old hives, the
bees carry in the greatest quantity of pollen. Second,
the pollen differs materially from wax: the latter, when
examined between the fingers, being adhesive; the
former crumbles: the latter also liquefying on the
application of heat, whilst the former burns to ashes.

hird, the wax of new combs, from whatever source
collected, is uniformly white; whereas the pollen, as
gathered by the bees, varies in colour, agreeing with
that of the anther-dust of the flowers in blossom at the
time of its collection. Moreover the pollen retains its
colour when stored in the cells; whereas the wax
gradually changes its colour in the hive. Lastly, fresh
colonies of bees carry in very little if any pollen
for some days after swarming, though combs are
formed within that period. John Hunter, Huber,
Dr. Bevan, and others, have found, that if the bees can
have access to honey, sugar, or syrup, wax becomes
accumulated in the hive, whether or not any pollen is
collected; and it has also been proved that the object
of the pollen is, after preparation by the ‘ nursing-
bees,’ to form food for the ours Of all the pollen
collected, one part is immediately prepared as * infant's
food’ by the nurses, and the other part is stored for
future use.

The wax, then, is understood to result from the
saccharine matters taken into the stomach of the bee:
and as these also form the food of the adult bee, some
kind of separation must take place. This separation
has been investigated by many naturalists, and the
following facts have been ascertained :—The nursing-
éces appear to take no more honey or syrup than 1s
suflicient for their own support; tlieir office being to

MAGAZINE. 423
prepare the pollen as food for the young. But the
war-workers take into the stomach a much larger
portion of saccharine matter than is necessary for their
subsistence; they are capable of an increase of size,
since a store of honey can be retained within their
bodies. Here the change occurs which converts
honey into wax; a change, the nature of which will
probably always rank among the mysteries of organic
chemistry.

The wax thus formed m the bodies of the bees is
intended by them as a building-material, though
applied by man to very different purposes. Jn what
way the wax leaves the body of the insect, whether by
the mouth or not, was formerly a subject of great
controversy. It was known seventy ycars ago that
wax is secreted in thin scales among and between the
abdominal rings of the insect; and inore recent dis-
coveries have shown that thcre is a secreting incin-
brane on the body of the insect, capable of giving out
the wax, from within, in the form of a transparent
fluid, which immediately cools and solidifies in the
form of thin scales or laminew. When wax is wanted
for the construction of the comb, it appears to be
manufactured—if we may use such a term—in about
one day. The bees fill their crops with honey, aud,
retaining it in them, hang together in a cluster from
the top of the hive. Here they remain, apparently in
a state of. profound inactivity, for about twenty-four
hours, during which period the change, whatever it
may be, is progressing by which honey is converted
into wax. The wax, as secreted, exudes from the
bodies of the bees, and forms in thin layers, whence it
is removed by the hind-legs of the insects, and from
thence transferred to the fore-legs. Huber was able
to watch a bee in this routine of processes, and lie
found that she carricd each film of wax in succession
to her mouth, and turned it round in a vertical position,
so that every part of its border was made to pass under
the cutting-edge of the jaws. The film of wax was
thus reduced to very small fragments; and a frothy
liquid was poured upon these fragments from the
tongue, so as to form a very plastic mass. This liquor
gave the wax a whiteness and opacity which it did not
possess originally, and at the same time rendered it
tenacious and ductile. The wax and the frothy liquid,
thus blended, having been accumulated in the hollow
of the teeth, issued forth like a very narrow ribbon.
The tongue during this process assumed the most
varied shapes, and executed the most complicated
operations; and after drawing out the whole substance
of the ribbon in one direction, drew it forth a second
time in an opposite one. The ribbon or film of finished
wax, thus prepared, was then uscd as a building
material in the formation of the cells.

The object of the present article does not re-
quire that we should enter further into the social]
and manufacturing economy of bees; and we may
recapitulate thus—that of the honey or saccharine
matters taken into the stomach of the ‘ wax-working’
bee, part serves as nutriment, and part is converted
into a liquid, which, after exuding from the body,
solidifies into lamin possessing most of the properties
of wax : and that this substance is afterwards converted
into true wax, by being combined with a frothy liquid
emitted from the mouth of the bee. The steps by
which these conclusions have been arrived at, are
minutely detailed in the treatises of M. Tuber and
Dr. Bevan.

When, for the purposes of man, the store of wax
thus accumulated by the bees is to be taken from
them, the honey is emptied from the cells, by various
contrivances described in books on the subject, and the
comb itself (t.e. the wax) operated on. The combs
are usually boiled till thoroughly melted, with

424

sufficient water to prevent burning; the melted mass
being afterwards pressed through a canvas bag into a
pan of cold waier, from which the wax is afterwards

separated, re-melted to purify it still further, and
poured into moulds. A_ difficult

shape, but only half the depth, and it drops into the
Jarger kettle full half-way, with an accurate fit. The
bottom of this inner kettle is perforated all over with
very fine holes, and has a couple of ring handles. The

rough combs being placed in the large kettle, water is

poured in, till it rises nearly half-way up the inner
kettle, and the whole is placed over a moderate fire.
As the wax melts out of the crude mass, it percolates
through the strainer and floats upon the surface,
tolerably free from impurity; from whence, when cvol,
it is taken off in a cake, for being re-melted and still
further depurated, which may be effected by the same

apparatus, varying the use of it a little. Thecake of

wax just referred to is now yay into the upper kettle,
and water, to the depth of a few inches, into the
lower; the wax is then slowly melted again, when
it will’ drop through the strainer and swim on the
surface of the water, the impurities falling to the
bottom. Having been separated from the water, and
any still remaining impurities scraped off, the wax
should be again re-melted, with just water enough to
avoid burning, and poured into the moulds; the latter
having been previously rinsed with cold water, to
prevent the wax from adhering to them: the moulds
should then be placed near the fire, and covered over,
to let the wax cool gradually, or the cakes will be
liable to crack.”

The circular cakes, formed by the above or any simi-
lar process, constitute the bees’-war of commerce,—a
brightish yellow, insipid, and somewhat unctuous sub-
stance. As brought to market, it is frequently adul-
terated with earth, pea-meal, resin, and other sub-
stances. The presence of the former may be suspected
when the cake is very brittle, or when its colour in-
clines more to grey than to yellow; and the presence
of resin may be suspected when the fracture apper
smooth and shining, instead of being granulated. It
would scarcely be supposed, perhaps, that although
such large supplies of this substance are furnished by
English bee-keepers, there are no less than seven thou-
sand cwts. imported per annum from foreign coun-
tries, of which three-fourths come from northern and
vestern Africa.

The application of bees’-wax 1s very varied. Calico-
printers used formerly to stop out certain colours by
means of wax, and those in the East Indies still do so;
that is, place a layer of wax at such parts as are in-
tended to resist certain colours. Gardeners sometimes
use Wax, Or a composition of wax, pitch, and oil of
altnonds, as a material for grafting, instead of clay. In
resins, varnishes, and cements of various kinds, wax is
used in an infinity of ways, combined with other sub-
Stances, according to the nature of the object in view.
It is also used medicinally, either dissolved into an
emulsion, or mixed into the form of an electuary with
spermaceti, or oil of almonds, or conserve of roses.

There are many purposes, however, for which bees’-
wax cannot be used till it has undergone the process
of bleaching, by which it becomes white war. Many
experiments have been made to devise the best mode
of bleaching the wax, but the following will explain
the general nature of the process :—The ycllow wax is
first cut into sinall fragments, and melted in a copper

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

is usually ex-
aguaipets from the circumstance that the wax and

eterogeneous impurities float together on the surface
of the water, an inconvenience which Dr. Bevan
obviates in the following manner, as described in his
treatise on the ‘ Honey-Bee :'—“ The kettle I use is in
shape like a flower-pot; the strainer is of the same

f[OcrosEr 29, 1842.

vessel with sufficient water to keep it from burning.
The vessel is so disposed that the wax may flow gra-
dually through a pipe into a large tub filled with water,
and covered with a thick cloth, to preserve the heat
till the water and impurities are settled. From this
tub the clear melted wax flows into a vessel, the bot-
tom of which is full of small holes, and hence it falls
upon a cylinder constantly revolving over water, where-
by the wax is cooled, and at the same time drawn out
into thin shreds or ribands. The continual rotation of
the cylinder carries off these ribands as fast as they
are formed, and distributes them through the tub.
The wax, thus granulated or flattened, is exposed to
the air in linen cloths, stretched on large frames, about
a foot or two above the ground, in which situation it
remains night and day for several days, exposed to the
air and sun, until the yellow colour nearly disappears.
In this half-bleached state it is heaped up in a solid
mass, and allowed to remain for a month or six wecks,
after which, to complete the bleaching, it is re-melted,
ribanded, and exposed as before, till it wholly loses its
colour and smell. Numerous plans have been pro-
posed for bleaching by a more expeditious process.

White wax (by whatever process bleached) is the
substance of which wax-candles are made. The wax
is melted, and poured, by means of a ladle, on the
wick, which hangs suspended over the vessel contain-
ing the wax; coating after coating is laid on, till the
candle assumes the proper thickness; and the candle
1s then rolled between polished boards to give it a
smooth and equable surface.

Whoever has witnessed a ‘ wax-work’ exhibition,
there sees one of the many modes in which wax is ap-
plied. The celerity with which it melts, and solidifies
again in cooling, renders it a convenient substance for
taking impressions, from appropriate moulds, of busts,
figures, anatomical preparations, medals, ornamental
devices, and other objects. Fruit and flowers are imi-
tated in wax, by some such process as the following :—
Half of the fruit or other object being buried in clay,
the edges and the extant half are well oiled. Liquid
plaster of Paris is poured on, to form one half of the
mould ; and when this is concreted, the second half is
made in a similar way. The fruit being removed, and
the two parts of the mould being joined together, a
little wax, coloured, melted, and brought to a due heat,
is poured through a hole made in any convenient part
of the mould, and shaken so as to line the interior.
The mould being lastly broken, the waxen interior
comes out 2 copy of the fruit.

Wax has been applied to a remarkable species of
painting, called encaustic, where the canvas or paper
1s coated with a layer of wax, on which the colours,
prepared in a peculiar way, are laid; and by exposing
the wax to a certain temperature, it softens sufficiently
to combine with the colours and thus fix them. There
is also, for pictorial purposes, a mode of gilding on
wax, not however very frequently adopted.

It is proper to remark, in conclusion, that wax is
secreted by many plants. It is found very abundantly,
combined with resin, covering the trunk of the South
American wax-palm to the thickness of two inches,
one-third being wax and two-thirds resin. It is found
encrusting the seeds of the wax-tree of Louisiana. The
Myrica cerifera, by which this last-named tree is bota-
nically known, yields the wax in great abundance by
boiling the seeds in water; seven pounds of wax
being often obtained from the seeds of one shrub. The
myrtle, the alder, the poplar, and the pine, all yield
wax under certain circumstances; and the ‘ bloom’ of
fruit is found also to consist of wax. All these varietics
of vegetable wax possess many properties m common
with eis but there are many chemical differences

between them.

SuPPLEMENT.

THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 425

A DAY AT A VINEGAR AND BRITISH-WINE FACTORY.

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([‘ Sending-out Warehouse,’—Beaufov's Vinegar-Works.]

THERE exists between the apparently dissimilar
liquids wine, spirit, beer, and vinegar, a connexion little
supposed by the majority of those who use them. Who
would expect, unless he had attended somewhat closely
to the matter, that the same corn which yields our
quartern loaves may be made to yield spirit, and beer,
and vinegar, by particular processes? Or that wine,
cyder, beer, malt, sugar, and molasses, are all capable
of yielding—and many of them are actually made to
yie d, in manufacture—that very distinct and peculiar
iquid, vinegar? These are remarkable instances of
vegetable chemistry, or of the changes which heat and
other agents produce in vegetable substances. The
full explanation of all these changes forms one of the
most difficult branches of science ; but the manufactur-
ing arrangements are capable of being described in a
general manner, without involving the delicate and
complicated reasonings of the chemical philosopher.
Having, in connexion with two of our former “ visits,”
been enabled to describe the brewing and distilling pro-
cesses and arrangements whereby beer and spirits are
produced, we may now appropriately notice in a similar
manner the Vinegar misnutaclare: It happens, too,
that the firm who have liberally afforded the facilities
for this purpose, viz., Messrs. Beaufoy of South Lam-
beth, are not only malt-vinegar makers, but also manu-
facturers of “Sweets,” or as they are more generall
termed “British Wines.” Thus the same visit wi
enable us to gather a little information respecting the
production of wine.

The vinegar-manufactories are but few in number.
There are reasons, applying to these establishments as

No. 679.

well as to porter-breweries and distilleries, why com-
petition cannot be carried to so great an extent as in
smaller undertakings. The “ plant,” or assemblage of
apparatus, is very costly, and the skill required in the
manufacture considerable. In a Report presented by
the Commissioners of Excise Inquiry a few years ago,
it was stated that the number of vinegar-makers in the
United Kingdom is forty-eight.

Of the five principal vinegar-works in the metropolis,
four are situated on the Surrey side of the water.
Messrs. Beaufay’s establishment formerly stood near
where the southern approach to Waterloo Bridge occurs,
and was removed thence to Vauxhall in consequence of
the building of the bridge. The present works are lo-
cated in South Lambeth, between Vauxhall and the
Clapham Road, and occupy a considerable area of
ground. In this as in most other large works, the en-
trance gates open into a court-yard or area, portions
of which are occupied by buildings wherein the manu-
facturing processes are cayried on. Glancing along
the left boundary of the court, we see, in the first place,
an excise-office, fitted up for the convenience of the
officers always more or less in attendance at a vinegar-
factory (as in distilleries, saap-works, glass-works. &c.),
by whom the amount of duty accruing on the manu-
factured product is ascertained. Beyond this is the
‘shipping department, or counting-house for the
management of all matters connected with the coasting
trade and the reception of materials; and in front isa
weighing-machine. Adjacent to this is the ‘ chemical-
room,’ for the prosecution of experiments, and the ana-_
lysis of liquids, arising out of or connected with the

Vor. XI.—3 I

426 THE PENNY

operations of the establishment. Ranges of stabling
occupy a further portion of this line of buildings; and
the remainder consist of fermenting-rooms connectcd
with the manufacture.

On the right of the court-yard are counting-houses
and offices; beyond which the width of the court
greatly increases. Immediately in front is the main
building wherein the manufacture is carried on, and
the successive stories of which exhibit a very varied
assemblage of apparatus. Beginning at the top floor,
we find this appropriated as store-rooms, for the malt
used in the vinegar manufacture, and the sugar and fruit
for the wine manufacture. In various rooms and com-
partments of the upper part of the building are
machines for grinding and crushing malt, fruit, and
sugar, and all the arrangements antecedent to what we
may term the chemical portions of the several processes.
At a lower level we find, from the numerous pipes ex-
tending in all directions, that liquids are here brought
to act upon the dry ingredients. Here, too, are large
coppers or boilers for hot water; mash-tuns, similar to
those used by brewers ; and conduits for liquids both
into and out of these vessels. On the ground-floor the
apparatus marks a still more advanced stage of the
manufacture ; here are ‘ under-backs ’ and ‘ jack-backs,’
a refrigerator, or cooling-machine, a range of ferment-
ing tuns, another range of wine-presses, and other ves-
sels and machines pertaining to the two branches of
manufacture.

Beyond this building, which is known as the ‘ Brew-
house,’ is another called the ‘stoves,’ or the ‘stove-
room,’ kept carefully closed on all sides, and brought
to a considerable heat within, for the furtherance of a
very delicate part of the process of vinegar-making.
Near this are buildings connected with one or two
other branches of manufacture carried on by the same
firm, which we shal] not here notice further than to
say that Messrs. Beaufoy are also ‘ millers’ and ‘ drug-
grinders. A detached building in a more remote
part of the yard serves as a store-house, the internal ar-
rangements of which exhibit a specimen of very careful
and minute classification. It 1s a feature in the es-
tablishment to make and repair on the premises as
many of the implements and apparatus employed as
possible. Hence a considerable quantity of materials
1s always in requisition ; and these are under the espe-
cial control of a sture-keeper. The whole of the build-
ings of the factory are classified into certain depart-
ments, each of which is placed under distinct superin-
tendence ; and the heads of the departments are charged
with the quantity of stores and materials supplied by
the store-keeper. The weight and number of At stores
supplied being entered in a book, as well as the de-
partment to which they are supplied, the principals can
thus at any time ascertain the amount of consumption
in any one department. Lead and colours, brushes and

ots, for plumbers and painters ; nails and screws, &c.
or carpenters; hoop iron for coopers; various tools
and implements for smiths—indeed materials and tools
for half a dozen different trades, are here congregated.
We have on more than one occasion had to notice a
similar arrangement in large factories, where a well-
planned system of economy leads to the employment,
within the establishment, of a number of artisans not
directly concerned with the manufacture carried on.
We may in particular refer to the hat-factory described
in No. 567, where asmithy, a carpenter’s shop, a turner’s
- shop, all of large dimensions, formed part of the pre-
mises—not for making a hat, but for furnishing some
of the appliances whereby a hat is made. All this is
regulated by a well-known principle in the division of
labour, which can only be developed where a large
number of persons is employed.

Behind the storc-house, and extending to a consider-

U
f

MAGAZINE [OcTonER, 1842.
able distance, is the vinegar-field, a remarkable feature
in most vinegar-works. Here the eye glances over
many hundreds of casks, all ranged in parallel rows,
and elevated to equal heights from the ground on
wooden bars resting on brick piers. A pathway lies
open between each pair of rows of casks ; and at inter-
vals in these paths are openings or valves, forming
channels of communication, to which we shall allude
more particularly hereafter.

Returning from the vinegar-field, we find on the
south side of the open court the workshops for the
various artisans alluded to above. There is one shop
for blacksmiths, another for millwrights and enginecrs ;
another for plumbers, a fourth for carpenters, a fifth
for wheelwrights. The cooperage is more extensive,
for all the casks employed in the vinegar and wine
departments are both made and repaired within the
premises. On the same side of the open court, but
nearer to the entrance, are buildings more particu-
larly connected with the staple manufacture of the
place. One of these is called the Rape-shed, and is
filled with numerous bulky vessels in which the finish-
ing processes of the vinegar-manufacture ure carried
on; indeed many of these vessels bear a closer resein-
blance to Barclay and Perkins’s beer-vats than to any-
thing else we have seen. Another of these buildings
is the ‘sending-out warehouse,’ where the vinegar, after
the completion of the manufacture, is consigned to
store-vats ranged round the wall, and thence drawn
off into casks for sale. The interior of this building is
represented in our frontispiece. A somewhat similar
building is the wine store-warehouse, where the British
wines are stored, and drawn into casks.

We may finish our tour of the premises by remark-
ing that the water required for the establishment is
furnished by an Artesian well; and that there are
three steam-engines for pumping the water, pumping
the liquids in various stages of preparation from one
vessel to another, grinding the malt, &c. ‘There is a
range of waggon-sheds too ; and two fire-engines for the
protection of the premises. The large open areas of the
court and the vinegar-field, with the various buildings
surrounding them, together occupy about eight acres.

It may now be well, in attempting to describe the
operations carried on in these buildings, to keep them
wholly separate, and to offer what we have to say con-
cerning vinegar, before we speak of British wine.

Tre VINEGAR MANUFACTURE.

At the beginning of this paper it was stated that
vinegar may be produced from many substances
apparently wholly dissimilar. It is not only that they
may be, but they are so in practice; for one manu
facturer uses one ingredient, one another. Messrs.
Beaufoy’s is a malt-vmegar factory, where the vinegar
is produced from phate the same substance as the
Highlander makes his whiskey. The theory of fer-
mentation is one of the most refined points of scientific
investigation; but it may be remarked, as a general
clue to the apparent discrepancies in the materials of
the vinegar manufacture, that alcohol, or spirit, is
capable of being distilled from sugar, from fruit, from
grain, and other vegetable substances; and that what-
ever yields spirit, may also be made to yield vinegar,
by a different mode of procedure. Indeed the acetous
fermentation, whereby vinegar is produced, follows
very closely on the vinous, whereby spirit results;
and it is often difficult to stop at the one and prevent
the occurrence of the other. When we hear of ‘sour’
beer or * sour’ wine, we may regard these as instances
that the acetous fermentation has commenced, or that
our beer or wine actually contains some vinegar; in-
deed the French naine, vin aigre, points significantly
to one source whence the avid is produced

SuPPLEMENT. |

Dismissing any discussion of the question why onc
manufacturer selects one ingredient and one another,
we proceed to the details of the malt-vinegar manu-
facture, as exemplifying most of the principles in-
volved. Malt, it perhaps need hardly be observed, is
barley brought to a particular state by heat and
moisture. The process of malting converts some of
the starch contained in the barley into sugar, and
facilitates the similar conversion of a further portion.
This conversion into sugar, called the ‘ saccharine
fermentation,’ is one of the important steps in the
preparation of beer, of ale, of whiskey, and of malt-
vinegar: in all of these it is requisite that the starch
of the grain be converted into a kind of sugar ; for it
is from this sugar that the vinous fermentation pro-
duces alcohol, the parent of vinegar. Hence the
early processes in an ale-brewery, a malt-distillery,
and a malt-vinegar factory, are very similar.

The malt is brought to the vinegar-works which we
are describing, and hauled up out of the waggons
into the upper floors of the brewhouse. Here open-
ings placed in different directions allow the malt to be
poured down into large bins, from whence it is re-
moved when a brewing is about to take place. (Vine-
gar-makers and distillers, as well as ale and beer
brewers, give the name of ‘ brewing’ to the extraction
of a saccharine liquor from malt.) The quantity
required for one brewing being measured out, and
taken from the bins in sacks, it is poured through
‘hoppers,’ or funnels at the top of the grinding
apparatus, whereby the malt is reduced to meal. The
apparatus consists of both the kinds used for such
purposes, viz. mill-stones and crushing-rollers, either
or both of which can be employed as may be deemed
best. In the one case a flat circular stone rotates and
crushes beneath it the malt which flows between it
and a lower fixed stone. In the other case the malt,
after flowing through a shoot or trunk from the
hopper, falls on a wire grating, where it becomes
separated from any impurities with which it may be
mixed. It then passes between two cast-iron rollers
rotating nearly in contact, and becomes thus crushed
to fragments. An ingenious contrivance, invented by
Captain Huddart, is adopted for yielding to any hard
substance which may get between the rollers with the
malt, without injury to the apparatus; it acts on the
principle of stopping the revolution of the roller alto-
gether until the cause of obstruction is removed.

When the malt is crushed or ground, it falls through
a hose or trunk into the mash-tuns in the floor be-
neath. These mash-tuns are similar in principle to
those used at the great breweries and distilleries,
but smaller in size. They are circular vessels
with a central ‘stirrer,’ or instrument for keeping
in constant agitation the ingredients which may be
in the tuns; the stirrer being worked by a steam-
engine. It is in these vessels that the ‘ saccharine fer-
mentation’ goes on, or the extraction, by the action of
hot water, of asweet or mawkish substance from the
malt. It is this sweet principle which subsequently
yiclds to the brewer his beer or ale, to the distiller his
spirit, and to the vinegar-maker his vinegar ; and it may
well be supposed that every precaution is taken, and
every investigation made as to the extraction of the
greatest quantity and the most fitting quality of this
Important agent. The quantity of water required
witha given quantity of malt, and the temperature at
which the water is used, vary in each particular
branch of manufacture, according to the strength of
the ‘wort’ required. The arrangements at Messrs.
Beaufoy’s for adjusting these elements are very exact
and ingenious. The hot water is let down upon the
malt in the imash-tun when at the proper temperature ;
and in order to adjust this, the fureiman of the brew-

THE PENNY

MAGAZINE 427
house ascertains, by the aid of a thermometer, the tem-
perature of the water, through a temporary opening in
the upper part of the boiler. The arrangements at
this spot are shown in the annexed cut, where is also

—— =

——

(Upper purt of the Copper or Boiler.)

represented a balance-weight and graduated scale,
which, aided by a float on the surface of the liquid in
the opps indicates the number of inches depth of
water therein.

When the water has acted on the malt for a certain
period, and been constantly stirred with it, the liquor
receives the name of wort, and is allowed to flow
through pipes out of the mash-tuns into a large cast-
iron vessel called an‘ underback,’ measuring probably
twenty-four feet in length, by eight in width. This is
merely a general receptacle for the wort, into which
the latter is collected when the mashing is completed.
Then ensues the process of cooling, one which exhibits
many remarkable differences as effected in different
establishments. In our descriptions of a great brewery
and of a distillery, we had to speak of large, open,
shallow, airy rooms, called ‘ coolers,’ or ‘ cooling-floors,’
whereon the wort was poured in a thin layer to be
cooled by the access of airon all sides. Such was
formerly the mode adopted at the vinegar-works now
under description; a surface of nearly twenty-three
hundred square feet having been appropriated to this
purpose. This mode has however been superseded by
another, in which one hundred square feet of surface
is made to yield the effects formerly wrought by more
than twenty times that extent. There is a vessel now
employed for this purpose, called a ‘refrigerator,’
which acts on the following principle :—-The hot wort is
allowed to flow out of the underback into an oblong
vessel, and out of this latter into another receptacle in
the same part of the building. A continuous pipe,
between three and four hundred feet in length, passes
backwards and forwards through the oblong vessel, and
through this pipe cold water is continually flowing
from an Artesian well two hundred feet deep. There
is a constant current of wort from east to west through
the vessel, and a constant current of water flowing from
west to east through the pipe; and it is not difficult
to see that this must have a tendency to cool the wort.
There are four adjustments by which the wort may he
made to leave the refrigerator at any gas tempe-

428

rature, viz.. Increasing or decreasing the rapidity of
the entrance of the wort, the exit of the wort, the
entrance of the water, and the exit of the water. As
the cold water travels onward through the convoluted
pipe, it abstracts heat from the surrounding wort ;
when the water flows quickly, the wort is cooled toa
lower temperature than when it flows more slowly ;
and by a simultaneous adjustment of the valves con-
nected with the wort-vessel, the flow of the wort can
be also duly regulated. The annexed cut represents
the refrigerator, at the end where the wort enters, and

Ye i, 8 ee eset
: AAT Ti

a
‘

'Underback and Refrigerator.}

where the water leaves the pipe after having per-
formed its office; by the side of the refrigerator is
seen the ‘underback.’ Not only does this method
require much less room than that of the ‘cooling-floors,’
but the time employed in cooling a given quantity of
wort is reduced to one-third, and the manufacturer is
rendered independent of fluctuations of the weather ;
for, unlike atmospheric agency, his cooling agent is
brought from a source two hundred feet below the
level of the ground, and is nearly equable in al a
rature at all times. It may be as well to remark tha
this method of cooling is the reverse of that adopted
in the worm-tub of a distillery: in this latter case the
hot liquid, or rather vapour, passes through the pipe
contained in the vessel, and the cold water flows
through the’ vessel itself; but in the vinegar-refri-

rator the cold water passes through the pipe, and

e hot liquid through the open vessel. The distiller's
worm is not, in fact, a refrigerator, it 18 a condenser ;
and the condensed vapour must not be open to the
atmosphere.

The reader will bear in mind that the wort thus
produced is in principle precisely the same as that
made by the ale and beer brewer and the distiller, dif-
fering only in saccharine strength. It undergoes, too,
the same process of fermentation, subject to thoee limit-
ations which may be required by the nature of the
manufacture. From the refrigerator which we have
just described, the cooled wort flows into a large cir-
cular receptacle sunk in the ground, called the ‘ jack-
back,’ from which it is pumped up into vessels, called
‘ fermenting-tuns.’ Here we may remark, that a va-
luable system of combination or centralization is
observed in the arrangement of the conducting pipes
in this establishment. There are here and there large
vessels which serve as a kind of centre, from each of

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

(OcroseEr, 1842.

which openings lead to several other vessels, each
opening being governed by a particular valve or cock.

or instance, the liquid which in various processes is
contained in the ‘jack-back,’ has sometimes to be
transferred to the fermenting-tuns, sometimes to a
large back or cistern at the top of the building, and
sometimes to the copper ; yet there are not three open-
ings from the jack-back for these different purposes,
but one, which leads to a three-barrelled pump, whose
barrels are marked respectively, ‘ tuns,’ ‘ back,’ ‘ cop-
er;’ so that by turning one of three handles, the
iquid can be conveyed to one of these vessels. Again,
the back just alluded to is placed in connexion with
several large vessels in different parts of the premises,
to ay one of which its contents can be transferred by
simply turning a handle. There is one of the build-
ings in which a hexagonal table is seen, under the
bed or surface of which are six valves or cocks, all
opened and shut by one key. Each one is inscribed
with the name of some one vessel or building, with
which it is placed in connexion by an extensive” series
of under-ground pipes; and the superintendent of
this small piece of apparatus can in fact control the
flow of the liquid under manufacture in almost every
direction. The advantages derived from this method
are such as generally result from a union of central-
ization with classification.

To describe what goes on in the fermenting-tuns is
no easy matter, as it involves the little-understood pro-
cess of the vinous fermentation. The brewer, the dis-
tiller, and the vinegar-maker alike expose the wort
to the action of yeast and an elevated temperature ;
but they require very different degrees of the alcoholic
development. The brewer, when his wort has fer-
mented, gives the name of beer or ale to the product,
according to the manipulation of manufacture; the
distiller calls his fermented wort by the name of
wash; while the vinegar-maker applies the name of
gyle to the fermented wort which he uses. It is ve
proper that distinct names should be thus used (al-
though those actually employed may seem somewhat
unmeaning), for the Ji aids are by no means the same,
although all produced by vinous fermentation from
sweet wort.

The fermented wort, or, as we shall now term it, the
gyle, is transferred from the fermenting-tuns to other
vessels, where it leaves a deposit or sediment, which is
a kind of acetous yeast ; and being thence allowed to
flow into the jack-back, it is pumped up one of the
branches of the three-barrelled pump into the large
vat above. From this, as a centre, the gyle is allowed
to flow into casks, where it assumes the form of vine-
gar, a process which is in every respect remarkable.
The change here indicated is brought about in two
methods exceedingly opposite in their general charac-
ter. In the one case the casks containing the gyle are
placed in close rooms heated to a high temperature ;
in the other they are ranged in rows in an open field,
where they remain many months. Different as these
methods seem to be, yet the effect produced is pre-
cisely the same, viz. the conversion of the gyle into
vinegar by the internal process of acetification. In
what manner the oxygen of the air and the heat of the
stove-rooms work this change, is as much a chemical
difficulty as the process of fermentation generally. As
regards the convenience and interests of the manufac-
turer, both methods seem to have their advantages ;
for at the vinegar-works which we are describing
both are followed, although the one occupies a very
much longer period of time than the other. When the
vinegar is to be acetified in the field, it must be made
during the three spring months, and then left several
months in the field.

This process of acetification is technically called

SUPPLEMENT. ]

‘ stoving,’ or ‘fielding,’ according to the method fol-
lowed. In the first-mentioned case, the casks contain-
ing the gyle are arranged conveniently in three stove-
rooms, which are closed and locked, and then exposed
to a certain temperature till the acetification has been
wrought. Two minutes’ stay in one of these rooms is
uite sufficient to convince a visitor that vinegar is in
the act of formation, the suffocating acetous vapour
being insupportable. The method of stoving is, we
believe, generally adopted by the vinegar-makers of
France, and appears to render the manufacturer more
independent of the seasons than the field process.

The process of ‘ fielding’ is much more visible, if
we may use such a term, than that of ‘ stoving,’ from
the circumstances under which it is conducted. The
casks, each of which contains rather more than a hun-
dred gallons, are arranged in long parallel tiers, with
their bung-holes open and uppermost. Beneath the
path which separates every two rows of casks is a pipe,
communicating with the ‘ back’ at the top of the
brewhouse ; and in the centre of each path is a valve

[Vinegar-field—Filling the Casks.)

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

429

on to this valvular opening, and the other end of the
hose is inserted in the bung-hole of the cask. Then,
as the reservoir of gyle is many feet above the level of
the casks, the liquid flows by its own pressure through
the underlying pipe and the hose into the cask. A
man guides the fide in the manner represented in the
preceding cut, and has sufficient length of hose to fill
all the casks in one row, one after another.

Here the vinegar remains for several weeks, or even
months, the bung-holes of the casks being covered
with small pieces of tile or slate, which are removed
when the weather is fine. The casks are examined
twice every day; and if it happens that a shower of
rain comes on suddenly while the bung-holes are ex-
posed, nearly all the hands in the vinegar department
are * turned out,’ to cover the casks as Spedaity as pos-
sible. The air effects the same object as the heat of
the stove-rooms, but much more slowly. In both
cases the gyle, or fermented wort, undergoes the pro-
cess of acetification, whereby it becomes converted
into vinegar. In those factories where the vinegar is
produced from other substances than malt, the gyle is
converted into vinegar nearly in the same way as in
the dora case, although the gyle itself is differently
produced.

When the ‘ fielding’ is completed and the vinegar
is to be removed from the casks, the arrangements are
managed in a very ingenious manner. A long trough
or shoot is laid by the side of one of the rows of casks,
into which the vinegar is transferred by means of a
syphon, the shorter leg of which is inserted in the
bung-hole of the cask. The trough inclines a little
from one end to the other, the lower end resting on a
kind of travelling tank or cistern; so that the vinegar
from several casks is collected in one tank. From the
tank a hose descends to the valve placed in the ground,
and the vinegar is drawn, by steam-power in the adja-
cent buildings, from the tank into the hose, from
thence into the valve, and then along an under-ground
pipe, which terminates in one of the factory buildings.
hus the invisible moving-power is made to draw off
all the vinegar from all the casks in succession. The
travelling cistern, the syphon, the tank, the hose, &c.,
are transferred from row to row of the casks as fast as

or cock opening into this concealed pipe. When the | they are emptied. A portion of this operation is here
casks are about to be filled, a flexible hose is screwed | represented.

ae a
; a nee Pe
2 = Aa emis

- ——
Ay 1 =
t
Hl
i
Ds :
#7
~

(Vinegar-ficld—Drawing off.)

The vinegar, so far as acetification 1s concerned, 1s |

When the vinegar 1s to be clarified or * brightened

now finished; but there is a certain purifying or | for sale, it is pumped from the store-vats into vessels

cleansing required before it assumes a marketable
state. This purifying is, however, not always done
immediately ; but the vinegar is pumped from the

which are in some respects the most remarkable cm-
loyed in the vinegar manufacture, or rather the clari-
ying ingredient is a remarkable one. Ina building

casks into a ‘ back of communication,’ a centre from ‘called the ‘rape-shed’ are some enormous wooden
whence pipes conduct the liquid to a number of store | vessels called ‘ rapes,’ each of which is filled with a

vats placed in the ‘ vat-warehouse ’

filtering ingredient also called‘ rape.’ This double em-
erat [ > nae y

Pinson ln, f pa 1’ ‘@Y yy |
Digitized by Ks O OS

(>
{-
La

430 PHE PENNY
ployment of the same word seems rather absurd; but
It is probable that the ‘ rape-vessels,’ or the vessels
containing ‘rape,’ became called ‘ rapes’ for the sake
of brevity; and for the origin of the name itself we
may Lage refer to the French word ‘ raffe,’ con-
nected with the process of ‘ raffinerie,’ or refining.
Leaving etymology out of the question, however, we
may state that this rape consists of raisin stalks and
skins, which scem to filter the vinegar better than any
other substance hitherto employed. It would seem
pretty evident that it is not a mere filtration which the
Vinegar undergoes, but that in percclating over and
over again through the rape, it »mbibes some quality
which it did not possess before. Sometimes wood-
shavings, sometimes straw, and sometimes tanners’
spent bark, is employed as the filtering ingredient ;
but the refuse of raisins which have been employed in
making wine is preferred to every other material. It
is a matter of immense difficulty to collect the neces-
eat quantity of this material to fill the bulky vessels ;
and when once collected, we believe there is no part
of the vinegar-maker’s apparatus on which he places
so much value. We shall have a further remark to
make on this subject in a future page.

Each ‘ rape,’ or filtering-vessel, is fitted with a false
bottom, on which the filtering medium is placed.
Bencath this false bottom, and above the true bottom,
is inserted a cock, which allows the vinegar to flow
into a back or cistern. From this a pump elevates the
liquid to the tup of the vessel ; and hence ensues a very
curious circuit. The vessel is filled up with vinegar,
which filtrates through the raisin-refuse into the space
beneath, thence into the tank, thence'through the
pump to the top of the vessel, to recommence its cir-
cuit. Over and over again does this circuit proceed,
the pump being kept constantly at work, and the vine-
gar incessantly in motion. If such a comparison might
be permitted, we would liken the pump to a heart,
which propels the liquid to the enormous lung—the
rape—where it is purified, and then again returned to
the heart. The filtering substance gradually, but very
slowly, wastes away, and is renewed from time to
time.

The vinegar by this process becomes transparent, or
‘bright,’ as it is technically termed, and is then
pune from the rapes into store-vats, where it is
cept till required to be put into casks for sale, and the
rapes are immediately filled up with an equivalent
portion of fresh vinegar, 80 as never to leave the raisin-
refuse idle. The vinegar-casks hold one hundred and
sixteen, fifty, and twenty-five gallons respectively.
Each cask is examined and gauged before being
brought into the ‘ sending-out warehouse,’ to see that
it is sound and of proper dimensions. The warehouse
is a large room lined on all sides by store-vats, from
which the casks are filled; and on the days when these
casks are to be sent off, the warchouse presents a very
busy appearance, with coopers, porters, &c. ranging
the casks, marking them, and consigning them to the
wagons.

With a few miscellaneous remarks on vinegar we
must pass on to the other object of our ‘ visit.” Vine-
gar is known by certain numbers, such as No. 18, 20,
22, and 24. These originally represented the number
of rence per gallon at which the vinegar was sold;
and although the price no longer accords with these
numbers, the numbers themselves have been retained
as symbols whereby a certain quality of vinegar may
be known and designated. Vinegar pays to govern-
ment a duty of 2d. for every gallon of ‘ proof,’
proof being deemed that degree of strength which con-
tains five per cent. of pure acetic acid, as ascertained
by an instrument called an ‘ acetometer,’ which acts
uti the principle of determining the specific gravity of

MAGAZINE. [OcrozeErR, 1842,
the vinegar when saturated with hydrate of lime, and
deducing the acetic strength therefrom. Vinegar
varies considerably in its strength under different
circumstances, and the duty paid always bears a
strict relation to the strength? thus, if the quantity
of pure acid in a gallon of vinegar be double of
‘proof,’ then it pays double duty, or 4d. per gallon;
and soon. The strength of vinegar is more difficult
to ascertain than that of spirit, for there is a kind of
mucilage or extractive matter in it which increases its
specific gravity, and which is very different in quarttty
at different times. Hence a given specific gravity will
not, as in spirit, indicate the strength; and the test
employed is the specific gravity after it has been
saturated with hydrate of lime. p to the year
1834 there were seventy-seven thousand dealers in
vinegar in Great Britain, every one of whom was
Visited once a month, to see that he conformed to cer-
tain regulations, such as to make an entry of his pre-
mises, and not to send out any quantity of vinegar ex-
ceeding ten gallons without a certificate from a book
provided by the Excise. The expense of thus making
nearly a million visits in a year, and the utter useless-
ness of the system, led to its abandonment in 1834, on
the recommendation of the Commissioners of Excise
Inquiry. The quantity of vinegar made in the British
Islands is about three million gallons a year, of
which more than half is made by four London firms.

British WINES, oR ‘ SWEETS.’

The use of British wines, or, as they are sometimes
called, ‘ home-inade wines.’ is of very limited extent ;
and it may perhaps hardly have occurred to the reader
that the manufacture is carried on on anything like a
considerable scale. Such is, indeed, the fact at the
present day; but still there are circumstances attend-
ing the rise and growth of this branch of trade too
curious to be passed unnoticed.

It is perhaps pretty generally known that nearly all
foreign wines are made from the juice of the ripe
grape, and that the variations in quality and appear-
ance depend partly on the species of grape, partly on
the soil where it is cultivated, partly on the state of
the climate, and partly on the method of vintage.
British wines, however, are made either from dricd
grapes, which come to us under the name of ratsing,
or from common English fruits. At first the name of
‘sweets’ was confined principally to the varieties of
raisin-wine; but as English-fruit wine was equally
subjected to duty, all alike acquired the name of
‘sweets.’ The Excise definition of sweets is, “ All
liquors made by infusion, fermentation, or otherwise,
from fruit or sugar, or fruit and sugar mixed with
other materials ;’ and until 1834, any person who had
any such liquor in his custody, in quantity exceeding
one hundred gallons, was deemed a maker of sweets
for sale, and subject to Excise survey.

The rise of the British-wine trade was closely con-
nected with the vinegar manufacture, and dates back
to about a century ago. At that time—as Hogarth’s
print of ‘Gin Lane,’ and many other sources of in-
formation, amply attest—the scenes of drunkenness
witnessed in the metropolis had reached a fearful ex-
tent. The legislature endeavoured by various means
to give a turn to the public taste that might Jessen the
evil; and among other things they held out strong in-
ducements for the manufacture of sweets, or home-
made wines, for sale. For many ycars, however,
although sweets had been reckoned among exciscable
articles ever since 1696, the manufacture continued
utterly insignificant.

It happened about that time that Mark Beaufoy, a
member of the Society of Friends at Bristol, who bad
abandoned his original trade of a distiller from con

SurrLemMeEnt. ] THE PENNY
scientious scruples, arising out of the prevailing vice
of the times, went to Holland to learn the process of
inalt-vinegar making, and on his return established a
vinegar-tactory on the site of the once-celebrated Cuper's
Gardens, near the present southern end of Waterloo
Bridge. The works grew in extent and in fame, and
were visited many years afterwards by Pennant, who
in his ‘London’ gives the following paragraph :—
‘“‘ There is a magnificence of business in this ocean of
sweets and sours, that cannot fail exciting the greatest
admiration, whether we consider the number of vessels
or their size. The boasted tun at Heidelberg does
not surpass these. On first entering the yard, two rise
before you, covered at the top with a thatched dome;
between them is a circular turret, including a winding
staircase, which brings you to their summits, above
twenty-four feet in diameter. One of these conserva-
tories is full of sweet wine, and contains fifty-eight
thousand one hundred and ninc gallons, or eighteen
hundred and fifteen barrels, of Winchester measure:
its superb associate is full of vinegar, to the amount
of fifty-six thousand seven hundred and ninety-nine
gallons.” The casks and hogsheads seemed to Pen-
Nant so minute after these, that he “imagined he could
quaff them off as easily as Gulliver did the little hogs-
heads of the kingdom of Lilliput.” *

But to return to the ‘sweets.’ Mark Beaufoy, in
the endeavour to establish a malt-vinegar factory, had
to encounter a great difficulty, viz. the want of ‘ rape’
wherewith to construct the filters to fine and flavour
the vinegar. In Holland the vinegar-makers were
supplied with the refuse from the raisin-wine manu-
facturers and raisin-wort distillers; but in England
there was no source of the kind whence he could he
supplied, and yet such a supply was ‘indispensabl
necessary to the success of the process on the Dutc
method. Under these circumstances he was con-
strained to purchase raisins, and after steeping them
for the purpose of extracting the saccharine and muci-
lage of the fruit, the liquor was thrown away, and the
rape alone (comprising all the solid parts of the raisin)
reserved for use in the vinegar manufacture.

It happened, however, that Dr. Fothergill, the Qua-
ker physician, became acquainted with this waste of
raisin-juice, and, after demonstrating how wine might
be made from it, advised Mark Beaufoy to commence
it as a branch of manufacture. He did so, and entered
his name at the Excise as a “maker of sweets,”
about acentury ago. From that time, owing partly to
the spur which one branch of manufacture thus gave
to another, and partly to a wish in many quarters to
substitute a milder drink for that which had produced
such social evils, the raisin-wine trade rose into dis-
tinction and importance. The kinds of raisins he used
were principally Smyrnas, Malagas, Lexias, Faros,
and Cape de Verds; but in later years the manufac-
turers of sweets included the English fresh fruits
among the materials whence they produced wine. For
forty years the trade gradually extended; but in 1784
the minister of the day adopted a course which most
seriously shook and injured it: this was by enacting
that no dealer or vendor of Foreign wines should be
allowed to have any British wines upon his premises
or in his possession ; the two trades (of vendors, but
not makers) having hitherto been considered and con-
ducted asone. This enactment arose out of certain
excise regulations concerning foreign wines; but its
effect on the sale of British wincs was most marked.

* Pennant’s ‘ London,’ 3rd edit., p. 34. Wilkinson, too, at
a later date, gave a r ntation and description of these pre-
mises, in the ‘ Londini Illustrata,’ as they appeared hefore the
removal of the establishment to South Lambeth in 1812, conse-
quent on the preparations for making the southem approach to
Waterloo Bridge.

MAGAZINE. 431
In the year ending 5th July, 1784, previous to the thew
regulation coming into force, the duty charged upon
sweets, in the London district only, was for 70U0 bar-
rels made by the firm of Beaufoy and Co., and about
an equal quantity by the other makers who had by de-
grees entered the trade; whereas in the following year
the quantity was only 241 barrels!’ The new act com-
pletely annihilated all the dealers, so far as this article
was concerned, by rendering them obnoxious to heavy
penalties; and the manufacturers had new connexions
to seek for vending their produce. The blow once
given, was never wholly recovered; for though the
firm mentioned above paid nearly 10,C00/. duty in 1813
on British wines, being the Jargest ever paid by one
house in one year, yet the trade on the whole progres-
sively declined, and was still further injured by the
reduction of the duty on Cape wines some years ago.
At length, by the year 1834, the duty became so small,
—amounting to less than 30U0/. per annum for the
whole of the British Islands,—that the Commissioners
of Excise Inquiry recommended it to be abolished
altogether, as not worth the trouble and expense of col-
lecting. British wines, therefore, are not now an ex-
ciseable article; and there will not in future be data
whereby to judge whether the manufacture increases
or diminishes.

As a notable branch of trade, we may thus consider
that the British-wine manufacture has gone through
the phases of rise, zenith, and fall, within about a cen-
tury; although it may perhaps happen that the re-
moval of the duty will give another impulse to it. Ir
will still continue to be an interesting though not an
extensive branch of English manufacture; and those
who are not so well provided with the good things of
life as to have the real juice of the grape at their table,
will probably still, to some extent, look to a substitute
less costly than foreign wine and less injurious than
ardent spirits.

The manufacture of ‘swerts’ is one partaking of
fewer processes than that of vinegar, and may be de-
scribed without much difficulty. If we take the term

‘sweets’ in its fullest extent, so as to include all the

varieties of British wine, then we shall at once state
that the only variety deemed deserving of description
here is that of ratstn-wine, to which the manufacture
was in the first instance confined. All the kinds
made from English fruits, such as ‘ currant-wine,’
‘raspberry-wine,’ ‘elder-wine,’ &c., are such house-
hold acquaintances, that we need not trace their birth
and parentage ; every ‘ Cook’s Oracle,’ and ‘ Complete
Housewife,’ and ‘Kitchen Manual,’ ‘The Cook,* and
‘Useful Receipt Book,’ teaches us how to make these
wines ; and the difference between their methods, and the
mode pursued by those who make the wines for sale, lies
rather in the quantity operated on, and the size of the
vessels, than in the routine of processes. Let us then
glance at the method of making the wines from foreign
dried fruits, as practised at this establishment.

The dried fruits or raisins (frequently, but erro-
neously, called plums) which result from the different
kinds of grape, do not lose all the vinous quality of the
fresh fruit, although much seems to.be lost in the pro-
cess of drying. Nearly ajl the grapes thus prepared
are brought from the countries bordering on the Medi-
terranean, and are generally named cither from the
places where they are produced, or those whence they
are imported; but in some cases, such as ‘ muscatels,’
‘blooms,’ ‘sultanas,’ ‘ raisins of the sun,’ and ‘lexias,’
the name is derived from the quality of grape or the
mode of preparation. The most siinple mode of pre-
paration in the grape-countries is tu dry the fruit,
after being cut when fully ripe, by exposure to the
heat of the sun on a floor of hard earth or stune. An-

* Published by C. Knight & Co.

432

other method is to cut the stalk halfway through when
the grapes are nearly ripe, and leave them suspended
till the watery part is evaporated ; the flow of sap is in
a great measure prevented from entering the fruit, in
consequence of the incision, and whilst evaporation
continues to go on undiminished, the grape necessarily
becomes dried. Some sorts are prepared by dipping
the grapes in a ley, and afterwards drying them in the
sun; the ley cone formed of water, wood-ashes, and
a small portion of oil of olives. Inferior raisins are
dried by the artificial heat of an oven.

The raisins acquire very different qualities according
to these modes of treatment; but the wine prepared
from them by the British manufacturer of ‘ sweets’
may be spoken of in general terms, without reference
to specific differences, further than to say that the
‘ Lexias’ produce a dry wine, the ‘ Denias’ a sweet
wine, the ‘ Black Smyrnas’ a strong-bodied wine, and
the ‘Red Sinyrnas’ and ‘ Valencias’ a rich and full wine.
The time when the importer lays in his store of dried
fruit is from Michaelmas to Christmas; and from
thence to spring, or in short during the cool weather,
is the principal time for making the wine.

The fruit comes into the hands of the wine-maker
in three different kinds of packages—baskets, casks,
and boxes—according to the quality of the fruit; but
in general the raisins are packed closely together, and
form a hard mass. These masses are in the first
instance laid on a floor and beaten with wooden
mallets, as a means of separating the raisins one from
another. Sometimes the agglomeration is so close,
that the mass has to be passed between rollers before
the ai ader oa can be effected. The separate raisins—
or rather the small masses, for the individual separa-
tion is not yet effected—are steeped in a vessel with a
quantity of water, where they stand until all the fruit,
by being swelled with the water, rises up and floats on
the surface.

When the fruit has risen to the surface of the water,
a portion of the latter is drawn from the vessel, by
which the mass of fruit necessarily sinks to a lower
level. A perforated board or floor is then laid on the
top of the fruit in the vessel, and kept down by a
weight ; and upon this is pumped the liquor which
had been previously drawn from the vessel. As the
_ weight keeps the board down, and the board keeps the
fruit down, it follows that the fruit has a body of liquid
above as well as below it; while the perforations in
the board allow the liquid to ee through to the
fruit. This process is repeated from time to time, by
drawing off the liquid from beneath the fruit, and
pounile it in above, by which all parts of the fruit

ecome equally affected. The extraction which is
brought about during this process probably begins at
the moment when the fruit has lightness enough to
foat on the surface of the liquid, and continues
throughout the process.

When all the vinous and saccharine matters have
been extracted from the fruit by this process, the
liquid is drawn off into separate vessels. The fruit,
however, is not wholly exhausted by this drawing-off,
for a considerable portion of the liquid is absorbed by
and mixed up among the spent fruit. To recover this
18 a point of importance ; and the action of pressure is
here brought into requisition. In one of the rooms of
the factory isa powerful hydraulic press, and also a
range of screw-presses, the former or the latter being
used according to circumstances. Our concluding cut
represents one of these presses while being worked,
by which it will be seen that considerable power is
applied. Each press consists of a kind of cubical box,
two or three fect square, into which a strong square
ooard or presscr works, being attached to a screw
above, and the screw being turned by capstans. In

THE PENNY MAGAZINE

[OctosgER, 1842

(Wine-manufacture—Fruit-pressing.}

the first instance a man gets into one of the steeping-
tuns, and lades out the spent fruit into baskets, which
are carried to: the press-boxes and there thrown in
until the box is full. A powerful iron bar is inserted
in a hole in the screw-shaft, and is then used, capstan-
like, to turn the screw and press the fruit, half a dozen
men being thus employed. Sometimes the aid of a
powerful windlass is employed to turn the screw ; and
the pressure thus exerted is so great as to reduce the
fruit to one-third of its former bulk.

The liquid which is thus obtained is added to that
which was drawn off from the steeping-vessels ; while
the spent fruit, now pressed almost ary, is 60 far from
being valueless, that it constitutes the article rape,
so important to the proceedings of the vinegar ma-
nufacturer. The steeping is not the only process
which is carried on in the large vessels; for after the
fruit has been moistened and the saccharine qualities
extracted, a kind of fermentation is induced by a leaven
or os contained in the fruit itself; and it 1s princi-
pally to regulate this fermentation that the liquid is
epee so frequently through the mass of fruit. In

act the liquid which is drawn off from the vessels 1s not
merely raisin extract or juice ; it is wine in a crude state.

The wine is pumped from the fermenting-tuns into
other vessels in the ‘ wine sture-warehouse,’—a large
building lined on every side with vats, tuns, and casks
of various sizes. Here it is subjected to repeated
‘rackings,’ by which everything that is capable of being
precipitated is separated from it and falls to the bottom
of the vessels. Here too all the processes of sweeten-
ing, and ‘fining’ with isinglass, &c., according to the
different kinds of wine, are carried on, until the wine
assumes the form in which it is sold. It is stored in
vats, from which it is drawn into casks for sale to the
dealers. There is no ‘bottling’ department at this
factory, the wine being sold ‘in the wood ;’ and the
dealer separates it into the smaller portions which find
their way into the hands of the consumer.

Here we take our leave of this region of sweets and
sours, and thank the proprietors for their courtesy.
We have thought that the connexion existing between
these two branches of manufacture, both in history and
in practice, would render it advantageous to treat of
them both in one article, and the firm to which the
foregoing details relate is the only single one which
affords the facilities for so doing.

1942. ]

THE PENNY MAGAZINE

clrish Beggars.)

THE IRISH CLOAK.—No. II.

Axonasrt the poorer classes it may be seen one cloak
does duty for all the females of the family, as you
meet with it worn in every way: the tallest wear it as
the tailor fasbioned it to be worn; the middle-sized
place the part on the head which was intended to rest
on the shoulder, allowing the hood to fall back like the
Turkish caftan; this is in general very graceful, as
the great width of the material allows the folds to fall
large and flowing. The children all seem to have the

wer of using it in different ways; those even of
four or five years old, to whom a cloak seems as indis-

nsable as to the elders, are so completely enveloped in
its folds as to be nearly lost in them. The boys play
the same game with the cloaks and great coats of
their fathers, for the dress of the men at the present
day is departing considerably from the form of the
National cloak, and may rather be described as a great
coat with many capes. Ireland is aleo one of the great
markets for old clothes collected in England—you
meet with the faded garments of a former day in every
direction ; and hence the English fashions are begin-
ning to preponderate. A few years ago the camlet
cloaks with red collars and facings, then fast going
out of fashion here, seemed in great favour with the
Irish, who appear to have thought one insufficient, as

No. 680.

it was not uncommon to see a man without shoes, or
stockings, or waistcoat, with two of these cloaks over
his ordinary coat, and with all their accumulation of
capes, sometimes from two to three on each cloak.
In England the first care is to secure the feet and chest
from cold or damp—this never seems to trouble an
Irishman, as you may see a man patiently driving a pig
with his shoes in his hand, no cravat, but with his
shirt-collar open, the rain pelting on his face and
naked chest; when a button fastened on any one of the
six capes on his back, where they are not wanted,
would make him comfortable—he never seems to
think of it: it would appear to a stranger that the
knees of his breeches were left unbuttoned in order
to allow the rain, after washing his face and chest, a
clear passage down his legs. He carries this accumu-
lation of clothes on Ate back equally in summer and in
winter.

The Irish beggar is altogether a distinct class, and
must not be confounded with the vagabond of Eng-
land, who is generally a beggar only because he is too
lazy or too depraved to Jabour; in Ireland it is not
so—the man who from choice or from necessity turns
beggar, becomes a member of a new community, which
by no means impeaches his respectability ; he forfeits
nothing, but preserves his caste intact, and in conse-
quence holds up his head as proudly as if he were a

Vor: XIL—3 K

434

man-at-arms, very different from the wolf-like aspect
of an English professtonal beggar, who if not a thief at
the outset, of necessity, from his association with those
beyond the pale of society, soon becomes one. The
Irish beggar has a home in every man’s shed, a shelter
at every ma.'s hearth, and a potato in every man’s pot;
like the Scottish gaberlunzie, he is a species of herald,
the bearer of news when no written language could
be interpreted—the manager of intrigues, and equally
the messenger of the harmless lover and the dangerous
conspirator, he is in fact a recognised member of
socicty, moving in a certain orbit, performing his
functions, and entitled by right as well as by courtesy
to his reward. The Irish beggar has been celebrated
for his wit, his cuteness: we have little faith in this—
all communities with plenty of time on their hands
have their joint-stock of good things, to be used on
occasion ;—the soldier, the sailor, the lawyer, the
doctor, and the divine—the conductor of an English
omnibus, equally with the Irish car-driver, has a tradi-
tional property in the jokes of his forefathers—the
Irish beggar 1s similarly situated, he is always the
attacking party, he makes his occasion, and he has his
joke ready to fit it; but the matter is of the antient
fabric, and in all likelihood the first “ good thing” you
meet on the quay at Kingstown was the last you heard
or read on embarking at Liverpool. The test lies in
the manner, which is striking and new to an English-
man, from its open and familiar delivery, unlike what
he has heard from such a person, and. arising from
that person’s not being ashamed of his position—he is
not offended at a refusal, or at the failure of his joke
to extract a fee for himself, but turns round in aid
of a new applicant more needy or deserving than
himsclf with as much earnestness as if he had received
a fee for his assistance ; and so they go on, till at last,
getting desperate, they bring forward the most affect-
Ing instance on the roll, and all seem gratified if at
length they succeed in securing anything to any one of
the par: This was the case with the group at the
head of this ele The mail to Bantry stopped at
Bandon, at the time suffering from a depression in
the manufacture of twine, and after all the ordinary
eee had been disposed of, the old blind woman
led by her grandchild was pointed out ; the child, hav-
ing by a look attracted our eye to the old woman, held
up her apron, or something that did duty for one, and
saying In the name of God! received the trifle, and
thanked us witha burst of grateful eloquence none but
an [rish tongue could equal ; in this quality certainly
there can be no question of their preeminence.

ECONOMICAL USES OF THE WILLOW.

OF all the plants which grow in this country, there is
perhaps not one applied to a greater varicty of uses
than the Willow. Others may be and are more im-
portant, but for diversity of application the willow is
really remarkable.

The term ‘ willow’ is applied to two plants so ap-
parently dissimilar, that it may not be known to every
one that they are species of one genus. The willow-
tree, and the willows or osiers used in basket-making,
are the two kinds to which we here allude ; and indeed
we can hardly speak thus of two kinds, for the genus
has been so divided and subdivided, that it contains,
according to Sir J. E. Smith’s classification, abouta
hundred and forty species; according to Schleicher,
two hundred and fifty; and according to Koch, two
hundred and fifty-four. The willows are chiefly natives
of the colder parts of the temperate regions of the
northern hemisphere, and of a cold moist soil. A few
specics have been met with in Armenia, in China
and Japan, in Northern India, in North Africa, in

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

(Novemser 5,-

Central America, and in North America, but the
temperate countries of Europe are those in which the
willow is most extensively found.*
The ‘ white willow,’ or timber-willow, the orna-
mental or ‘ weeping willow,’ and the osier-willow,
may be taken as three types towards which all the
species more or Jess approximate, and these grow to
various heights, from one hundred feet down to that
ofa mere shrub. The nature of the uses to which they
are applied by man, depends partly on this broad
classification, and partly on properties which the
varieties enjoy in common; and Mr. Loudon, in his
‘Arboretum Britannicum,’ has givensuch an emunera-
tion of these uses as justifies the remark of Sir W. J.
Hooker, that “ the many important uses rendered to
man by the different species of willow and gsier, serve
“ rank them among the first in our list of economical
ants.”
F In a state of nature the willow furnishes food by its
leaves to the larvee of moths, gnats, and certain other
insects; and, by its flowers, to the honey-bee. The
leaves and young shoots are wholesome and nourish-
ing to cattle; and in some northern countries they are
collected green, and then dried and stacked for that
purpose. In France the Jeaves and young shoots of
one species, 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; the horses so fed
are said to be able to travel twenty leagues a da
without fatigue. In Sweden, Norway, and Laplan
the inner bark is kiln-dried and ground, for the
urpose of mixing with oatmeal in years of scarcity.
na rude state of civilization the twigs of the willow
were used in constructing houses, household utensils,
panniers, harness, boats, fishing-tackle, &c. The
twigs are still very generally applied in Russia and
Sweden to all these uses; and Dr. Walker, who wrote
an essay on willows about forty years ago, states that
he has ridden in the Hebrides with a bridle made of
twisted willow-twigs, and lain all night at anchor with
a cable made of the same material.

The bark is usefully applied in many ways. The
peasants of Russia and of the adjacent cold countrics
weave the bark of the young shoots for the upper
parts of their shocs, the outer bark serving for the
soles; and they also make of it, tied together with
strips of the inncr bark, baskets and boxes for domestic
purposes. The outer bark of old trees supplies them
with a substitute for tiles as a covering for their
cottages. In Tartary the bark is steeped in water,
and the fibre, when separated, spun into threads from
which cloth is woven. Both the bark and the leaves
of the willow are astringent, and the former is some-
times employed in tanning ; the bark of one species
is also used for dyeing black, in some of the cold
countries of Europe. The bark of the willow has
been brought into requisition as a medicinal agent, by
yielding a substance called salicine; this was dis-
covered by M. Leroux, and has been found very
valuable as a cure for agues and low fevers; Majendie
states that he has known three doses of six grains each
stop a fever. Salicine is in the form of very fine
whitish ad bee perfectly soluble in water or alcohol,
and very bitter; the process for obtaining it is long
and difficult, and about three pounds of bark are
required to produce one ounce of this valuable sub-
stance.

As a Variety of timber, the wood of the larger species
of willow presents many useful qualities. It is ge-
nerally soft, smooth, and light; varying from about
twenty-seven to forty-one pounds per cubic foot, the
one somewhat under and the other somewhat over

* See article on * The Willow,’ in No. 649.

1812.)

half the weight of water. In Pliny’s time willow
wood was in request for the fabrication of shields, on
account of its 'ightness; and in the present day it is
for the same reason preferred for making cutting-
boards for the use of tailors and shoemakers. It is
used for whetting the fine stecl instruments of cork-
cutters and other mechanics: it is in demand for
turnery, for shoemakers’ lasts, for imitating ebony
when dyed black, and for many minor purposes. The
wood of the larger trees is sawn into boards for floor-
ing, and sometimes for rafters; in which situation,
when kept dry and well ventilated, it has been known
to Jast upwards of a century. The bvuards are well
adapted for lining waggons and carts, particular]
such as are intended for coals or stone, as this wood,
from its softyess, is not liable to splinter from the blow
of any hard angular material. Brom its property of
durability in water, willow-wood is valuable for the

ddle-boards of steam-vessels, and for water-wheels.
rhe red-wood willow is much used in Scotland for
building sinall ships, and especially fast-sailing sloops-
of-war, by reason of its lightness, pliancy, elasticity,
and toughness, Mr. Mathew, in his ‘ Treatise on
Naval Timber,’ states, in reference to these properties
of red-wood willow :—‘ Formerly, before the intro-
duction of iron-hoops for cart-wheels, the external
rim, or felloe, was made of thin willow; and when new,
the cart or wain was drawn along a road covered with
hard small gravel (and in preference, gravel somewhat
angular); by which means the felloe shod itself with
stone, and thus became capable of enduring the
friction of the road for a long time, the toughness and
elasticity of the willow retaining the gravel till the
stone was worn away.”

The stems, branches shoots, and twigs are used in
modes almost innumerable, either split or not accord-
ing to circumstances. The straight steins of young
trees, when split into two, make excellent styles for
ladders, on account of their lightness. The longer
shoots and branches are made into poles for fencing,
hop-poles, props for vines, and other purposes; and
when forked at one end, into ‘clothes-props.’ They
are also much used for the handles of hay-rakes and
other light agricultural implements; they are split,
and made into hurdles, crates, and hampers; and,
when interwoven with the smaller branches, into racks
or cradles for the hay and straw given to cattle in the
fields or feeding-yards. The shoots of some of the
more vigorous kinds of willow, when cut down to the
ground, produce in two years rods which admit of
being split in two for hoops for barrels. In the neigh-
hood of London the market-gardeners use the smaller
shoots of some species for tying up brocoli, colewort,
and other vegetables sent to market in bundles; while,
both in this country and on the Continent, the smaller
shoots of willows are used for tying the branches of
trees to walls or espaliers, for tying up standard trees
and shrubs into shape, for making skeleton frames on
which to train plants in pots, and for tying bundles
and packages. The smaller rods or shoots, with or
without the bark on, are manufactured into various
kinds of light and ornamental articles. At Caen in
France, hats are manufactured from strips or shavings
of the wood of the white-willow: branches of two or
three years’ growth are taken and cut up into thin
slices, with an instrument called a ‘shave, and after-
wards divided into ribands by a steel comb with sharp
teeth. Similar willow hats were formerly manufactured
in England. Sheets of woven material, called ‘ willow,’
are made at the present day; they consist of a fabric
woven with fine strips of willow-wood, subsequent!
stiffened : they are in common use for the framewor
of bonnets, and, when covered with felt or silk shag,
for ligut cheap ‘ gossamer’ or summer hats. These

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

435

sheets of willow are said to be chiefly manufactured
in Spitalfields, where one set of persons cut the wil-
Jow into thin strips, and others weave these strips into
sheets. :
The downy substance which envelops the seeds of
the willow is used by soine kinds of birds to line their
nests, and by man occasionally as a substitute for cotton
in stuffing mattresses, chair-cushions, and for other
similar purposes. In many parts of Germany this sub-
stance is collected for making wadding for lining
rine winter dresses, and a coarse paper may be formed
OF it.
- The willow plant in a whole state is in many respects
ornamental, and in some useful. Almost all the species
being aquatic, and of rapid and vigorous growth, they
are peculiarly fitted for planting on the banks of rivers
and streams, for restraining their encroachments and
retaining the soil in its place. Some of the species are
very valuable as coppice-wood, to be cut down eve
six or eight years for hoops, poles, and faggot-wood.
The white-willow is said to be a ‘good nurse’ for
plantations of timber-trecs that are made in moist
situations. The shrubby species of the willow make
hedges, both in dry and in moist soil; but in the latter,
such hedges are of most value on account of the use of
their annual shoots in basket-making. As respects
ornament, the ‘ weeping-willow’ is perhaps the most
ca of the specics. It is a native of the Levant;
ut it thrives very well in England, if the situation be
not too cold, and if it be near water. It runs to a con-
siderable height, and no tree can be more graceful on
the margin of a lake or stream. It has been said that
the first weeping-willow was planted in England by
Alexander Pope, and that the motive for so doing was
the following :—Pope, having received a present of figs
from Turkey, observed a twig of the basket in which
they were packed putting out a shoot; he planted this
twig in his garden, and it in time became a fine tree.
From this stock all the weeping-willows in England
are reputed to have sprung; but the original tree itself
was cut down a few years ago.
When all other useful purposes have been served,
the willow serves as a substitute for coal. The lo
pings, branches, and old trunks make a most agreeable
fuel, producing when dry a clear fire with little smoke.
It is used, too, in a form which has been thus described
in the ‘ Library of Entertaining Knowledge’ (‘ Tim-
ber-Trees ’) :—‘* The willow is used extensively in the
manufacture of charcoal; and it has been found supe-
rior to most other woods in producing charcoal for
gunpowder. A good deal depends, however, upon the
manufacture. In the ordinary modes of making char-
coal—by building the wood up in a Brace form,
covering the pile with clay or earth. and leaving a few
air-holes, which are closed as soon as the mass is well
lighted—combustion is imperfectly performed. For
charcoal to be used in the manufacture of gunpowder,
the wood should be ignited in iron cylinders, so that
every portion of vinegar and tar which it produces
should be suffered to escape. In India charcoal is
manufactured by a particular caste, who dwell entirely
in the woods, and have neither intermarriage nor in-
tercourse with the Hindoo inhabitants of the open
country. They bring down their loads of charcoal to
particular spots, whence it is carried away by the latter
people, who deposit rice, clothing, and iron tools—a
payment settled by custom.” In the time of Evelyn,
willow appears, from a remark made in his ‘ Sylva,’ to
have been the principal wood employed in the manu-
facture of charcoal, both for smelting iron and for
making gunpowder; and he expresses a fear that the
extension of our iron manufacture would thus lead to
the destruction of a vast number of beautiful forest-
trees. But he could not then foresee en Bae charred

436 THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

into coke would in time be used as a substitute for
wood converted into charcoal. This substitution has
extended rapidly; so that while in the year 1788
twenty-six, out of eighty-six, iron furnaces in England
were heated by charcoal, there were, in 1826, three
hundred and five iron-furnaces all heated by coke.
Willow-wood charcoal is highly esteemed by painters
as a material for crayons.

Perhaps the most important application of the willow
is one to which we have yet scarcely alluded, viz. the
manufacture of baskets. This will occupy our atten-
tion in a future paper, and we will therefore not fur-
ther notice it here, but will conclude with the follow-
ing statement by Mr. Loudon of the distribution of the

{| NOVEMBER 5,

culture in England :—“ The principal plantations of
willows for basket-making in every country are made
along the banks of rivers and streams ; and in Eng-
land those on the Thames and Cam are the most ccle-
brated. In both these rivers, and in some others, small
islands are frequently planted entirely with willows,
and are called ‘ osier holts.. There are many such
islands in the Thames between London and Reading.
The most extensive willow-plantations in fields are in
the fenny districts of Cambridgeshire and Huntingdon-
shire; and perhaps the largest plantation in England
is that of Mr. Adnam, near Reading. The principal
market for basket-willows is London; but they are in

! demand, more or less, in every town in the kingdom ”

FRoach and Dace.”

THE ROACH AND THE DACE.

TneseE two kinds of fish are in many respects alike in
their habits, and do not very greatly differ from each
other in appearance. “They be much of a kind,” says
Walton, “in matter of feeding, cunning, goodness, and
usually in size.” The dace, however, is longer, and
not so broad as the roach, and its fins and eyes are of
a less brilliant colour, but they both have a handsome
silvery appearance. They are now classed by natural-
ists in the same genus, to which also belong the bleak
and minnow, though the minnow differs somewhat from
the typical characteristics of the others. Both roach
and dace are gregarious, and the two species frequently
congregate in the same river. The roach is more
widely dispersed in the temperate parts of Europe

than the dace, but in this country they are both very
common. Roach prefer deep and quiet rivers, and
will breed well in ponds; but dace love streams deep
but clear, with a gentle current, and do not thrive so
well in ponds. By day roach haunt deep water in and
near beds of weeds, or under the shade of the trees
which overhang the banks. Walton terms this fish
the “water-sheep, for his simplicity or foolishness ;”
but several writers do not coincide with the venerated
angler on this point. Roach-fishing, indeed, is excel-
lent practice for beginners ; and almost as much quick-
ness and dexterity are rcquired as in fly-fishing. To
the more experienced ¢ven the fish affords excellent

rt: Walton added, “ especially the great roaches
about London, where I think there be the best roach-
anglers.” Neither roach nor dace are in much esti-

1842.]

mation for the table. Hawkins gives the preference
tc the dace, though it is no great things. They both
make good bait for pike, the dace for his silvery white-
ness, and the roach, being more tenacious of life as
well, is used for night-hooks. Roach are in the best
condition in October, and dace in February, though on
this point there are different opinions. Both spawn at
the end of May, or early in June, and recover their
Strength in about a fortnight afterwards. Roach
ascend the onper parts of the Thames preparatory to
Spawning; and vast shoals leave Loch Lomond at the
same season, and during three or four days are caught
on their migration in large numbers. The dace sel-
dom exceeds nine or ten inches in Jength, but the roach
attains a larger size. Mr. Jesse caught a Thames
roach which weighed three pounds. Walton thought
one of two pounds worthy of special notice. “The
Thames,” he says, “affords the largest and fullest in
this nation, especially below London Bridge.”
Punt-fishing for roach by the starlings of Old London
Bridge was once a common amusement of the city
anglers, which they continued to enjoy to the end of
the reign of George I. Sir John Hawkins, in his edi-
tion of Walton’s ‘ Angler,’ published in 1760, gives an
interesting account of thcir Jatter-day exploits. ‘The
Thames,” he says, ‘as well above as below bridge, was
formerly much resorted to by London anglers; and
which is strange to think on, considering the unplea-
cantness of the station, they were used to fish near the
starlings of the bridge. This will account for the many
fishing-tackle shops that were formerly in Crooked
Lane, which leads to the bridze.* In the memory of
2% person not long since living, a waterman that plied
at Essex-stairs, his name John Reeves, got a comfort-
able living by attending anglers with his boat: his
method was to watch when the shoals of roach came
down from the country, and when he had found them,
to go round to his customers and give them notice.
Sometimes oth (the fish) settled opposite the Temple ;
at others at Blackfriars or Queenhithe ; but most fre-
quently about the chalk-hillst near London Bridge.
His hire was two shillings a tide. A certain number
of persons who were accustomed thus to employ him,
raised a sum sufficient to buy him a waterman’s coat
and silver badge, the impress whereof was ‘ Himself,
with an angler in his boat,’ and he had annually a new
coat to the time of his death, which might be about the
year 1730.” In 1760 Shepperton and Hampton were
much resorted to by London anglers for roach-fishing.
If the respectable old angler who joyfully put his
tackle in order when John Reeves announced a shoal
of roach at London Bridge could now see half a dozen
steam-boats at one time moving between Queenhithe
and Blackfriars (no unusual sight), he would easil
conclude that his sport in that quarter was destroyed.
But he would not at once perceive all the other causes
which had driven the fish away, such as improved
sewers disgorging the impurities of treble the popula-
tion of the London of his day, the increase in a still
larger proposes of manufactorics, and the establish-
ment 0 works he never dreamt of, for converting coal
into a gas for lighting shops and streets. Turning to
one of the Parliamentary Reports on the state of the
water supplied to the inhabitants from the river, he
would learn by the evidence of fishermen, that since
1820, flounders eels, roach, smelts, salmon, and other
fish, had been unable to live in that part of the Thames
between Woolwich and Putney. In this Report,
issued in 1828, Mr. Goldham, the clerk of Billingsgate-
market, states that about twenty-five years ago there
were four hundred fishermen, each of whom was the

* Four persons of this craft still have shops in Crooxed Lane.
t The depositions from the rubble composing the starlings.

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

439

owner of a boat and employed a boy, and they obtained
a good livelihood by the exercise of their craft between
Deptford and London, taking roach, plaice, smelts,
flounders, salmon, shad, eels, gudgeon, dace, dabs, &c.
Mr. Goldham states that about 1810 he had known in-
stances of as many as ten salmon and three thousand
smelts being taken at one haul up the river towards
Wandsworth, and fifty thousand smelts were brought
daily to Billingsgate, and not fewer than three thou-
sand Thames salmon in the season. Soine of the beats
earned 6/. a week, and salmon was sold at 3s. and 4s.
the pound. The fishery was nearly destroyed at the
time when this evidence was given. The masters of
the Dutch eel-ships stated before the same committee
that a few years before they could bring their live-eels
in ‘wells’ as far as Gallions’ Reach, below Woolwich ;
but now (1828) they were obliged to stop at Erith, and
that they had sustained serious losses from the delete-
rious gue of the water, which killed the fish. Many
other facts might be mentioned to the angler of the old
school still more perplexing—of salmon brought from
Scotland in ships moved by steam, and in such large
quantities as frequently to sell at 6d. and 8d. the
pound; of the supplies of fish from the coast being
conveyed to London in three or four hours by rail-
roads; and that by these means fresh fish, once the
most difficult commodity to put into extensive circula-
tion, was now regularly sold in the markets of most
inland parts of the country not very many hours after
being caught.

— ed

CONDITION OF LABOURERS’ TENEMENTS
IN ENGLAND.
(From Mr. Chadwick’s Sanitary Report. }

Every detail of the materials with which the cottage
18 constructed, and the mode of its construction, deserve,
and there is little doubt will obtain, most careful! at-
tention, for it is only by considering their comforts in
detail that they can be improved, or the aggregate
effect on the immense masses of the community can be
analyzed and estimated. For example, it has been
mentioned that a decided difference is perceptible in
the health and condition of workmen of the same class
who live in houses made of brick as compared with
those living in houses made of stone. A gentleman
who has attentively observed the condition of the
working classes in the north of Lancashire, and the
north of Cheshire, states that the gencral health of the
labourers in the north of Lancashire is decidedly infe-
rior. This inferiority he ascribes to several causes,
and, amongst others, to damp cottages, and—** wood
and wattled houses, such as our forefathers built, are
the driest and warmest of all; brick is inferior in both
these requisites of a comfortable house; but stone, es-
pecially the unhewn stone as it is neccssarily employed
for cottages, is the very worst material possible for the
purpose. I prefer the Irish mud cottages. The evil
arises from two causes. The stone is not impervious
to water, especially when the rain is accompanied b

high winds; and it sucks up the moisture of the ground,
and gives it out into the rooms; but principally, stone
is a good conductor of heat and cold, so that the walla
cooled down by the outer air are continually condens-
ing the moisture contained in the warmer air of the
cottage, just as the windows steam on a frosty morning ;
besides, the abstraction of heat in stone houses must be
a serious inconvenience. The effect of this condensa-
tion must be, and is, to make clothes, bedding, &c.
damp, whenever they are placed near the wall, and
therefore extremely prejudicial to those who wear the
clothes or sleep in the beds. Of course I do not attri-
bute all the damp of our cottages in this neighbourhood
to the stone; miuch of it is due to the wet climate, wet

438

soil, and building so near the ground ; but the stone, as
a material of building, must bear a considerable share
of the blame. I believe, too, it is partly the cause of
the very great difference of cleanliness of the Cheshire
farming people and ours of the same class. Indeed the
Cheshire people were brought up to wooden cottages :
brick was of later introduction. The greater facilities
and inducements to cleanliness in a dry house would,
in the course of time, form a more cleanly people, and
superior healthiness would follow.”

r. Parker observes, that the construction of the
cottages in Buckinghamshire is aes) unwhole-
some :—"The improper materials of which cottages are
built, and their defective construction, are also the fre-

uent cause of the serious indigsposition of the inmates.

‘he cottages at Waddesdon, and some of the surround-
ing parishes in the Vale of Aylesbury, are constructed
of mud, with earth floors and thatched roofs. The ve-
zetable substances mixed with the mud to make it
bind, rapidly decompose, leaving the walls porous.
The earth of the floor is full of vegetable matter, and
from there being nothing to cut off its contact with the
surrounding mould, it is peculiarly liable to damp.
The floor is on charged with animal matter
thrown upon it by the inmates, and this rapidly de-
composes by the alternate action of beat and moisture.
Thatch placed in contact with such walls speedily
decays, yielding a gas of the most deleterious quality.
Fever of every type and diarrhoea are endemic diseases
inthe parish and neighbourhood. Next to good
drainage and thorough ventilation, the foundation of a
cottage is the most important consideration. A foun-
dation, to be good, must not only be sufficiently strong
to bear the superstructure, and of sufficient depth to
cut off all connexion with the surrounding vegetable
mould and that beneath the floor, but also be formed
of materials calculated to resist moisture. The best
materials for this purpose are concrete and sound
bricks partially vitrified in the kiln or oe If such
bricks be well laid with mortar composed of sharp sand
containing no vegetable substances, and the concrete
be free from earthy particles, well mixed and firmly
thrown together, the admission of damp will be entirely
avoided. Stone, chalk, bricks which are not thoroughly
burnt, impure mortar, and wood, have all a tendency
to absorb moisture, which, if once received by such ma-
terials, ascends, or ‘creeps up,’ as it is technically called
by builders, and thus ahects the whole building. To
avoid this ‘ creeping up,’ builders are in the habit of
placing a tire of slate in foundations above the surface
mould—a remedy of a temporary character only, for the
action of damp entirely destroys slate. Roman cement
has also been used for this purpose, but the sand mixed
with this material renders it in some degree porous. It
has lately been suggested that a course of well-burnt
bricks set in asphalte would effectually prevent this
absorption of surface-water, and a favourable opinion
of this plan has been expressed by two intelligent
architects.”

He adds that—“In Berkshire the floors of the cot-
tages arc laid with red tiles, called ‘ flats,’ or with bricks
of a remarkably porous quality, and as each of these
tiles or bricks will absorb half a pint of water, so do
they become the means by which vapour is generated.
The cleanly housewife, who prides herself upon the
neat and fresh appearance of her cottage, pours several
pails of water upon the floor, and when she has com-
pleted her task with the besom, she proceeds tu remove
with @ mop or flannel so much of the water as the
bricks have not absorbed. After having cleansed the
cottage, the fire is usually made up to prepare the
evening meal, and vapour is created by the action of
the heat upon the saturated floor. Thus the means
adopted to purify the apartment are equally as injuri-

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

[November 5.

ous to the health of the inmates as the filth and dirt
frequently too abundant in the cottages of labouring
persons. It is usual to insert in Jocal Acts for the re-
gulation of towns a clause prohibiting the use of straw
and similar vegetable substances for ruofing ; and it
Ea to me to be desirable that some provision
should be made for the rural districts, by which the
thatch of cottages, when in a decomposed state, might
be required to beremoved. In the parishes of Binton,
Dorsington, and Long Marston, in the neighbourhood
of Stratford-on-Avon, simple continued fever, described
to be similar in character to the form of fever which
frequently occurs in the autumn and beginning of
winter throughout England, prevailed very extensively
in the winter of 1839. Of 31 patients attacked by it,
seven died. Dr. Thompson of Stratford-on-Avon, the
physician who visited all the cases by the desire of the
Board of Guardians of the Stratford-on-Avon union,
observes :—‘ As almost all the cottages in which there
has been fever are thatched, and the thatch in many of
them is in a very rotten and insufficient condition, it is
not improbable that slow decomposition in the thatch,
from the unusual quantities of rain which have fallen,
may have been going on, and contributed to the produc-
tion and continuance of fever. It has been observed by
others, I believe, that it is more difficult to get rid of
fevcr in thatched than in slated cottages.’ Dr. Thomp-
son also remarks, that in thatched cottages it 1s not
usual to ceil or plaster the inside of the roof; and he
recommends that this should be done, and that the
plaster should be lime-washed once a year.”

In the course of some observations made on the con-
struction of the cottages of the labouring classes in
France, it is observed that—“ It is in vain that the work-
nan breathes a pure air out of doors, if on his return
to his home he finds an infected atmosphere. Air,
which is so necessary to life and health, and which it is
of the last importance to renew often, especially in
small rooms, remains thick and loaded in the abode of
the workman, because no currents can exist in conse-
quence of the window being almost always placed
alongside the door. The form of the chimney is
another great evil in the construction of country cot-
tages. With a shaft very short and very large, it is
impossible for the room to get warm, and the heat
produced is almost all Jost. This form of the chim-
neys is only explicable by the ignorance of the con-
structors. However large a fire may be required by
the diverse needs of the family, it dces not involve the
necessity to make the chimney shaft of a correspond-
ing size; on the contrary, the facility with which the
smoke ascends is altogether proportioned to the small-
ness of the latter, as may be seen in the chimneys of
stoves, which are always extremely narrow.”

_The Rev. C. Walkey, of Collumpton, Devonshire,
gives instances of the want of provision for ventilation
in the cottages of the labouring classes :—* Cottages for
the most part are without sufficient ventilation, parti-
cularly in the up-stairs apartment, this being almost
invariably without a chimney, with a low window, com-
monly about two feet from the floor, and having no
ceiling, therefore the thatched roof, lofty in itself, and
full of cobwebs, contains the foul air; and in several
instances I have been the means of restoring health ap-

arently by blowing gunpowder in cases where fever

as raged for months, the ground-floors being often
damp—very seldom above the level of the land.”

PLANTS USED IN DYEING RED.

TxHosk who have paid but little attention to the nature
of the dyeing process, would scarcely be prepared for
the very diverse and heterogeneous ingredients cin-
ployed by the dyer. There is no particular substance,

1842.)

whether animal, vegetable, or mineral, called par
excellence a ‘dye:’ there is no dyce-manufactory,
where the various materials for dyeing are prepared ;
nor is there any particular country to which we are
indebted for them. The art of dyeing is the result of
a successive accumulation of facts derived from actual
experiment, the dyer having searched in every direc-
tion for substances which willimpart a required colour
toa given fabric. The nature of the silken, woollen,
cotton, and linen textures, which form the chief objects
of the dyer’s attention—the two former being of animal
and the two latter of vegetable origin—is such as to
receive with different degrees of durability the colour-
ing principles contained in the dyeing ingredients ;
and hence each kind of fabric has in some measure a
group of dye-stuffs peculiar to itself, although the
grouping is generally made with respect rather to the
colour produced than to the fabric dyed. The mineral
substances, generally solutions of metallic salts, em-
ployed in dyeing, are very numerous, either to impart
colour, to brighten the colours given by other sub-
stances, or to fix the dye more permanently to the
cloth. The animal substances employed are such as
the cochineal insect, the kermes insect, and the lac
insect. The vegetable substances, however, form the
most important series, and are of the most diverse
kinds ; some being produced from the plant generally,
such as orchil, cudbear, indigo, and woad; some from
the wood of the plant, such as Brazil-wood, sandal-
wood, logwood, and fustic; some from the root, such
as madder and turmeric; some from the bark, such
as een and birch bark; some from the flower,
such as safflower ; some from the shoots, as sumach;
some from the Jeaf and stem, as weld; some from the
berry, such as arnotto and Persian berries; and some
from the juices, as catechu, gall-nuts, &c. Of some of
these vegetable dye-stuffs a brief account may not be
uninteresting : beginning with those which produce
a red colour.

Brazil-wood is the wood of the caxsalpina sapan,
cxsalpina crista, csesalpina vesica, and cesalpina
ecchinata, four lofty kinds of tree growing in Brazil.
The wood is very hard, sinks in water, is sweetish to
the taste, and rich in colouring-matter, which is pale
when the wood is first cut, but becomes redder by
exposure to the air. In Brazil the tree has been for
many years past a royal monopoly; the exportation of
the wood, except on account of government, being
strictly prohibited under the severest penalties. Owing
to the improvident manner in which it has been cut
down by the government agents, it is now rarely found
within several leazues of the coast. Indeed it has been
asserted that many of the planters have privately cut
down the trees on their estates, and used the timber as
fire-wood, that they might not expose themselves to
the arbitrary and vexatious proceedings of the govern-
ment agents.

This kind of wood is valuable to the dyer for the
various shades of orange and red which it affords when
treated with different chemical agents. When boiled
in water for some time, the wood furnishes a fine red
decoction; and a further portion of red may be ex-
tracted from the residue, by the application of alkalies.
Alcohol or ammonia will extract a deeper red than
that obtained by water. A red precipitate may also be
obtained by adding acids, such as the sulphuric and
nitric, to the watery decoction. Solutions of alum and
of tin are very valuable in connection with the Brazil-
wood, for they give a fine red precipitate in great
abundance, while the supernatant liquor is red also;
and when nitro-muriate of tin is added to the decoc-
tion, the whole of the red culouring-matter is preci-
pitated. ;

Brazil-wood is employed in the manufacture of red

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

439

ink, and also, but not to a great extent, in dyeing. It
has, however, within the last few years been almost
superseded by a wood brought from Africa called
camwood, which isricher and gives a finer colour than
the Brazil-wood.

Logwood is much more extensively employed than
the two kinds just alluded to. It is the wood of a tree
growing in Jamaica, and on the shores of the Bay of
Campeachy, called botanically the hematoxylon Cam-
peachianum. This tree is something like the white-
thorn, but a great deal heavier. The wood is hard,
compact, dense, and of a deep red colour internally,
which it gives out both to water and alcohol. It 1s
brought to this country in logs of about three feet in
length, which are reduced to fragments before they
are fitted for the use of the dyer. This reduction is
effected in one of three ways. One method is by using
a machine consisting of knives fixed to a large wheel ;
the knives chip the wood across the grain into small
fragments, which are afterwards reduced to a fine -
powder by grinding them beneath a pair of rolling-
stones. The second method is by a machine provided
with steel] bars with a great iam her of notches or teeth
at the edges; these rasp and cut the end of the wood
Into powder. The third mode is by means of a circular
saw, which at every cut produces as much logwood
sawdust as is equal to its own thickness, and is at the
same time so contrived as to shatter into fragments the
thin lamine produccd by the saw.

The raspings or fragments of logwood obtained by
any of these methods will easily yield their colouring-
matter by boiling ; and this colour is employed either
to dye of a reddish tinge, or to brighten the tints given
by some other ingredients, or to effect the former as a

reparative to the latter. Dr. Bancroft makes the
ollowing observations respecting the dyeing qualities
of logwood :—*“ Logwood seems to have been brought
to England soon after the accession of Queen Fliza-
beth; but the various and beautiful colours dyed from
it proved so fugacious, that a general outcry against
its use was soon raised; and an Act of Parliament was
passed in the 23rd Hine of her reign, which prohibited
Its use as a dye under severe penalties; and not only
authorized but directed the burning of it, in whatever
hands it might be found within the realm. And
though this wood was afterwards sometimes clandes-
tinely used, under the feigned name of ‘ black-wood,’
it continued subject to this prohibition for nearly.a
hundred years, or until the passing of the Act 13 and
14 Charles II., the preamble of which declares that the
ingenious industry of modern times hath taught the
dyers of England the art of fixing colours made of log-
wood, alias ‘ black-wood,’ so as that, by experience,
they are found as lasting as the colours made with any
other sort of dyeing-wood whatever; and on this
ground it repeals so much of the statute of Elizabeth
as related to logwood, and gives permission to import
it and use it for dyeing.”

Of all the vegetable substances ee in dye-
ing red, perhaps the most valuable is madder, at
least for cottons and linens, to which it has been
applied for many centuries. Jn our last volume the
general characters of the cochineal and the lac insect
were described, so far as relates to their use in dyeing
red colours; and with the exception of those, perhaps
madder ranks next in importance. It is the root of
the rubia tinctorum, a plant extensively found in the
south of Europe, Asia Minor, and India; and from
those countries introduced into Holland and France.
Its cultivation has been attempted in England, but
without any beneficial results; and our supplies are
now obtained from Holland, France, and Turkey.
The roots are long and slender, varying from the
thickness of a goose-quill to that of the Jittle finger;

440

they are semi-transparent, of a reddish colour, have a
strong smell, and a smooth bark.

The madder plantations of Holland are thus con-
ducted :—In autumn they plough the land and lay it
up in high ridges, that it may be mellowed by the
winter’s frost. In March it is ploughed again, and laid
in ridges eighteen inches asunder and a foot deep.
Then, in the beginning of April, when the madder
begins to shoot out of the ground, they open the earth
about the old roots, and take off all the side shoots,
which extend themselves horizontally just under the
surface of the ground. These they plant immediately
on the tops of the new ridges, at about a foot distance
from each other; and this they usually do in showery
weather, when the plants immediately take root, and
require no more water. At Michaelmas time, when
the leaves have fallen off, the roots are taken up, and
dried for the market. The plant grows to about three
feet in height; but it is the long spreading fibrous root
which is used in dyeing.

The madder is imported into England either in the
state of root, as just described, or in a more advanced
staze of preparation. The latter is generally the case

with respect to the Dutch madder; and the mode of

preparation is as follows :—The roots, as soon as they
are gathercd, are put under a shed or in a granary or
other sheltered place, and there remain exposed to a
current of air for ten or twelve days, till tbey are quite

liable, and till no juice can be pressed out by squeez-
ing them. They are then further dried, either in a
common oven of slack heat, if the quantity be small, or
in large stoved rooms, constructed for the purpose,
and heated with turf. When tle roots are quite hard
and brittle, they are Jaid on a threshing-floor, and
beaten with a flail, in order to separate the dirt and
outer thin skin. They are afterwards ground in a
mill, and the powder, being sifted and sorted, is care-
fully packed in large barrels, and in this state is pur-
chased by the dyers. .

In France the cultivation of madder is principally
confined to a district of which Avignon is the centre.
The prices vary somuch, that the cultivation is subject
to much fluctuation; for if any cause gives rise to a
high price, this induces the agriculturists to devote
more of their land to madder, and the increased sup-
ply then reduces the price. Jt 19 said that, in France
at least, the relation between wheat and madder, as
sources of profit, is such that when wheat is at 63s. per
quarter, madder should be at 34s. per cwt. to yield the
same rate of profit. The Dutch madder, which has a
yellowish tinge, is used principally by our woollen
dyers; while the redder French madder is in greater
request among the cotton dyers. The sifting and
sorting which we alluded to as practised in Holland
are intended to produce different qualities of madder :
thus the ‘small’ consists of a powder formed by pounding
the very small roots and the husk or bark of the larger
ones; it is comparatively low priced, and is employed
for dyeing cheap dark cglours. The ‘gamene’ is a kind
rather superior in fineness and colour. The ‘ombro’
consists of the interior, pure, and bright parts of the
root; and the ‘crops’ is another variety nearly analogous
to it.

Safflower is another vegetable substance yielding a
red dye, and the last which we shall notice, It is some-
times called bastard saffron, and consists of the flower
of an annual plant growing in India, Egypt, America,
and some of the warmer parts of Europe. The

flowers, which are sometimes sold under the name of

saffranon, are the only parts employed in dyeing.
They yield two kinds of colouring-matter : one soluble
in water, and producing a yellow of but little beauty ;
the other soluble in the fixed alkalies, and affording a
red colour equalling in delicacy and beauty that ob-

THE PENNY

MAGAZINE. [NovemBeEr 5,

tained from cochineal, but much Jess permanent. The
colour of safflower will not bear the action of soap, nor
even that of the sun and air foralong time; and being
very costly, it is principally employed for imitating
upon silk the fine scarlet and rose-colours dyed with
cochineal upon woollen cloth. .

The safflower has been occasionally cultivated in
Germany and France, and the process of culture is said
to be as follows :—It 1s sown in the lightest land, which
has always a double fallow given to it, first to destro
the weeds, and afterwards to make it fine. After it
has been fallowed a summer and a winter, and has been
ploughed and harrowed four times, it receives its lass
ploughing and harrowing in the latter end of March.
The seeds are then scattered thinly in drills about a
foot and a half from each other, and the earthis drawn
into them with a short-toothed arrow; and a roller is
passed over the ground to smooth and to settle it.
After the plants have come up, they are hoed three
times at intervals of five or six weeks; and as soon as
the flowers begin to open, the field is gone over once
a week to gather such as are ready. There is usually
a succession of flowers for five or six weeks, and these
ti gathered at such times when there is no dew on
them.

Hasselquist describes the Egyptian mode of prepar-
ing the flowers for use thus :—After being pressed be-
tween two stones, to squeeze out the juice, the flowers
are washed several times with salt-water, pressed
between the hands, and spread out in the open air to
dry. In the day-time they are covered, that they may
not dry too fast with the heat of the sun, but they are
left exposed to the dew of the night. When they are
sufficiently dry, they are packed up for sale. Dr.
Thomson states:—“ From the colouring-matter ex-
tracted by means of an alkali, and precipitated with
an acid, is procured the substance called rouge, which
is employed asa paint for the skin. The solution of
carthamus (the botanical name for the safflower) is

repared with crystals of soda, and precipitated with
emon-juice which has stood some days to settle. After
being dried on delft plates by a gentle heat, the preci-
pitate is separated, and ground accurately with tale
which has been previously reduced to a very subtle
powder, and on the fineness of the talc depends the
difference between the cheaper and dearer kinds of
rouge.” This rouge appears to be the rea] colouring-
matter of the dye for which the safflower is used by the
dyer.

"There are a few other plants useful in dyeing red,
but the above are the most important. Orchil
seems rather to be ranked asa blue or purple than a
red dye.

Curious Means of knowing the Position of a Ship tn Foggy Wea-
ther.—There is a provision there (at Holyhead) for the safety
of the packets which attracted my attention, from never having
known anything of the kind in my life. The Stag Rock, on
which the lighthouse is built, is connected with the mainland by
a chain bridge. I was surprised at the number of sea-fowl upon
the rock, and asked why they congregated in such numbers, and
were regularly fed every day. The harbour-master told me that
they were objects of his care and anxiety; for that when the
packets in foggy weather could not make out any land, and
finding by their lead they were close to the shore, they were in
the habit of firing a gun, and at the report the sea-fowl flew up
screaming, and thus indicated the position of the packet instauatly.
I tried that experiment when 1 was there, and found it answer
inimitably.—Evidence of Captain George Evans, R.N., before
the Parhamentary Committee on Past-Office Communwation with
Treland—Session 1842.

1842. ]

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

441

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(Froigsart and Sir Espsing de Lyon.)
FROISSART AND HIS CHRONICLE.
No. IX.

THE JOURNEY TO THE COURT OF GASTON DE FOIX.

tn the biographical sketch of Froissart with which this
serics of papers commenced we purposely omitted to
notice more than the bare record of some of the most
interesting incidents of the historian’s life; and for this
reason—they are connected with personages of such
historical importance as to derive their greatest interest
from that connection and the manner in which they
are narrated, rather than from the personal career of
the narrator. Such are Froissart’s Journeys to Gaston

No. 68].

de Foix in Béarn, in 1388, and to the English court a
few years later.

Gaston, or, as he was called from his beauty, or his
love of hunting, Gaston Phoebus, was one of the last of
aclass now extinct, in Europe at least,—the sovereign
nobles, who were strictly kings in everything but
name, He was born in 1331; his parents were Gaston,
second Viscount of Béarn, and Eleanor, daughter of
Bernard, fifth Count de Cominges. His father dying
whilst he was yet a: boy, his education was left to the
care of his mother, who appears to have done such
justice to him that he became one of the most distin-
guished knights of his time. When only fourteen
years old he made his first essay in arms; this was
against our countrymen in Guienne. At the time of
Froissart’s visit he was fast verging on sixty, yet still
in the very prime of bodily strength and activity. The
historian thus relates his motives for the visit :—‘* Con-
sidering in myself how there was no great deeds of
arms likely toward in the parts of Picardy or Flan-
ders, and seeing that peace was made between the duke
and them of Ghent, and it greatly annoyed me to be idle ;
for I knew well that after my death this noble and
high history should have his course, wherein divers
noble men should have great pleasures and delight:
and as yet, I thank God, I have understanding and

Vou, XI.—3 L

442

remembrance of all things past, and my wit quick and
sharp enough to conceive all things showed unto me
touching my principal matter; and my body as yet
able to endure and suffer pain: all things considered,
I thought I would not let (cease) to pursue my said
first purpose ; and to the intent to know the truth of
deeds dove in far countries, I found occasion to go to
the high and mighty prince Gaston, Earl of Foix and of
Béarn. For I well knew that if I might have that
grace to come into his house, and to be there at my
leisure, I could not be so well informed to my pur-
pose in none other place of the world. For thither
resorted all manner of knights and strange squires for
the great nobleness of the said earl.’’ Accordingly
Frvissart obtained letters of recommendation from his
patron the Count of Blois, and departed. His account
of his journey is inimitable for its delightful ease and
vivacity. ‘The country through which he passed was
one of great interest even then; and modern events
have made it more so: it comprises the scene of the
great Peninsular struggle between the allied British
and Spanish and the French. On his way he called,
among other places, “at the castle of Saverdun, and
so to the good city of Pamiers, which pertained to the
court of Foix. And there I tarried biding for soine
company going into the country of Béarn, where the
earl was. And when I had tarried there a three days
in great pear acdi (for the city was delectable, standing
among the fair vines, and environed with a fair river,
large and clear, called l’Arriége), and on a day it so
fortuned that thither came a knight of the Earl of
Foix from Avignon-ward, called Sir Espaing de
Lyon, a valiant and an expert man-of-arms, about the
ave of fifty years; and so I got me into his company ;
and he was greatly desirous to hear of the matters of
France, and so we were a six days in our journey or we
caine to Orthes. And this knight, every day after he
had said his prayers, most part all the day after, he
took his pastime with me in demanding of tidings : and
also, when I demanded anything of him, he would
answer me to my purpose. And when we departed
from Pamiers we passed by the mountain of Cesse,

‘ which was an evil passage; and so we came to the

town and castle of Artingas, which was French, but we
assed by it, and so came to dinner to a castle of the
arl of F oix, called Carlat, standing high on a moun-

tain; and after dinncr the knight said to me, ‘Sir, let

us ride together fair and easily; we have but two

oe to ride to our lodging :’ and so I was content to
Vv.”

Having passed by Palamnich, “we entered into the
Jand of the Earl of Cominges and Armagnac; and
on the other side was the river of Garonne and the
land of the Earl of Foix.... which, as we rode be-
tween these towns and castles along by the river of
Garonne, in a fair meadow, this knight said to me,—
‘Sir John, I have seen here many fair skirmishings
and encounterings between the men of Foix and of
Armagnac; for as then there was no town nor castle
but that was well furnished with men of war; and so
they warred each upon other.” He then gives
Froissart an account of one of the ruined castles they

ass. “The Count of Foix on a night sent his brother,

eter de Béarn, with two hundred spears, and with
them four hundred villains of the county, charged with
fagots, much wood, and bushes; and they brought it
tu the bastide and then set fire thereon, and so burnt
the bastide and all them that were therein, without
mercy ; and since it was never made again.”

And as we rode, I said, ‘ Sir, I pray you show me
where the river Garonne is become? for I can see it
no more.’ ‘ You say truth,’ quoth the knight; ¢ it de-
parteth here at the entering of these mountains, and it
groweth and cometh out of a fountain three leagues

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

[NovEMBER 12,

hence, the way to Catalonia, by a castle called St.
Béart, the frontier of the realm of France towards
Arragon. Amd there is now a squire called Ernalton,
otherwise called Bourge du Spain, he is lord thereof,
and chatelain of all the country. If we see him I will
show you him; he is a goodly person, and a good man-
of-arms. . . . In all Gascony there is none like him
in strength of body; therefore the Earl of Foix hath
him ever in his company. It past nota three years that
he did in a sport a great deed, as I shall show you.’

«So it was: on Christinas-day the Earl of Foix
held a great feast and a plentiful, of knights and
squires, as is his usage; and it was a cold day, and
the earl dined in the hall, and with him great com-
pany of lords ; and after dinner he departed out of the
iall and went up into a gallery of twenty-four stairs
in height, in which gallery there was a great chimney,
wherein they made a fire when the earl was there.
And at that time there was but a small fire, for the
earl loved no great fire ; howbeit he had wood enough
thereabout, and in Béarn is wood enough. The same
day it was a great frost and very cold, and when the
ear] was in the gallery and saw the fire so little, he
said to the knights and squires about him, “ Sirs, this
is but a small fire, and the day so cold.” Then Ernal-
ton of Spain went down the stairs, and beneath in the
court he saw a great many of asses laden with wood
to serve the house. Then he went and took one of
the greatest asses with all the wood, and laid him on
his back, and went up all the stairs into the gallery,
and did cast down the ass with all the wood into the
chimney, and the ass's feet upwards, whereof the Earl
of Foix had great joy, and so had they all that were
there, and had marvel of his strength, how he alone
came up all the stairs with the ass and the wood on his
neck.’ J took great pleasure in this tale,” continues
Froissart, “* and in others that this knight Sir Espaing
de Lyon showed me, whereby I thought my journey
much the shorter:” and so in this agreeable manner
the fellow travellers spent six days in journeying
towards Orthes. In one of the conversations some
menticn was made of Gaston de Foix’s son: “ ‘Sir,’
quoth I, ‘What became of that son, an it may be
known?" § Sir,’ quoth he, ‘I shall show you; but not
as now, for the matter is over long, and we are near
the town, as you see.’”” Whatever Froissart had heard,
and however curious he was to be satisfied on a
mysterious subject, he was obliged for the time to be
content ; and so they entered Tarbe, and took up their
lodging at the ‘ Star,’ where they tarried all that day,
‘“‘ for it was a town of great easement both for man and
horse, with good hay and oats, and a fair river.” But
a day or two later he returned to the charge at the
first fair opportunity, the subject of the succession of
one of Gaston's natural-born sons to the sovereignty
being in debate: ‘Sir, if I durst, I would fain
demand of you one thing—by what incident the Count
of Foix’s son died!’ Then the knight studied a little,
and said, ‘Sir the manner of his death is right truly
piteous; I will not speak thereof. When ye come to
Orthes ye shall find them that will show you, if you
deinand it.’” At Orthes accordingly Froissart ob-
tained the particulars he desired, and truly did he find
the good knight had characterised them as “right
piteous.” We shall here a little anticipate Froissart’s
own arrival and reception by the count, in order to
give Froissart’s account of the circumstances, as he
received them at Orthes.

In 1349 the earl, or, more properly speaking, the
count, had married Agnes, daughter of Philip III.
King of Navarre, and sister of Charles the Bad, who
succeeded that monarch. A dispute, it appears, arose
after the marriage concerning a sui of money, in
which the countess’s dower -was concerned, between

1842.) THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 443

Charles and the count, and in consequence between
the latter and his wife. At last the Count of Foix sent
the countess to her brother to fetch the sum of money
he demanded; and as she could not obtain it, she
would not return, saying she durst not. They had one
child, Gaston, who “ grew and waxed goodly.” About
the age of fifteen, desiring to sec his mother, the count
permitted him to go to the Count of Navarre, where he
was received by his uncle, Charles the Bad, the king,
with “ great cheer.” But, “ when this gentleman should
depart, the king drew him apart into his chamber, and
gave him a little purse full of powder, which powder
was such that, if any creature living did eat thereof, he
should incontinent die without remedy. Then the
king said, ‘Gaston, fair nephew, ye shall do as I shall
show to you. Ye see how the Earl of Foix, your
father, wrongfully hath your mother, my sister, in
great hate, whereof ] am sore displeased, and so ought
ye to be; howbeit, to perform all the matter, and that

our father should love again your mother, to that
Intent ye shall take a little of this powdcr, and put it
on some meat, that your father may eat it; but beware
that no man see you. And as soon as hc hath eaten it,
he shall intend to nothing but to have again his wife,
and soto love her ever after, which ye ought greatly
to desire; and of this that J show you let no man know,
but keep it secret, or else ye lose ajl the decd.’ The
child, who thought all that the king said to him had
been true, replied, ‘Sir, it shall be done as ye have
devised ;’ and so departed from Pampeluna, and re-
turned to Orthes. The earl, his father, made him good
cheer, and demanded tidings of the King of Navarre,
and what gifts he had given him; and the child showed
him how he had given him divers (things), and showed
him all except the purse with the powder.”

A few days later the count, seeing his (natural) son
Juan in tears, said, “‘Son Juan, what ailest thou ?’
‘Sir,’ quoth he, ‘Gaston hath beaten me: but he were
more worthy to be beaten than J." *‘ Why so?’ quoth
the carl; and incontinent suspected something. ‘ By
my faith, Sir,’ quoth he, ‘since he returned out of
Navarre, he bearcth privily at his breast a purse full
of powder; I wot not what it is, nor what he will do
therewith, but he hath said to me once or twice that
my lady his mother should shortly be again in your
grace, and better beloved than ever she was.’ ‘ Peace,’
quoth the earl, ‘and speak no more ; and show this to
no man living.” ”

At dinner the count, looking on Gaston, “saw the
strings of the purse hanging at his bosom. Then his
blood changed, and (he) said, ‘ Gaston, come hither ; I
would speak with thce in thine ear.’ The child came
to him, and the earl took him by the bosom, and found
out the purse, and with his knife cut it from his bosom.
The child was abashed, and stood still, and spake no
word, and looked as pale as ashes for fear, and began
to tremble. The Earl of Foix opened the purse, and
took of the powder, and laid it on a trencher of bread,
and called to him a dog, and gave it him to eat; and
as soon as the dog had eaten the first morsel he turned
his eycs in his head, and died incontinent. And when
the earl saw that, he was sore displeased, and also he
had good cause, and so rose from the table, and took
his knife, and would have stricken his son. Then the
knights and squires ran between them, and said, ‘Sir,
for God’s sake have mercy, and be not so hasty ; be well
informed first of the matter, or ye do any evil to your
child.’ And the first word that the earl said was,
‘Ah! Gaston! traitor! for to increase thine heritage
that should come to thee I have had war and hatred of
the French king, of the King of England, of the King
of Spain, of the King of Navarre, and of the King of
Arragon, and as yet I have borne all their malice, and
now thou wouldst murder me; it moveth of an evil

nature, but first thou shalt die with this stroke. And
so (he) stepped forth with his knife, and would have
slain him; but then all the knights and squires kneeled
down before him, weeping, and said.‘ Ah! Sir, have
mercy, for God’s sake; slay not Gaston, your son.
Remember ye have no more children; Sir, cause him
to be kept, and take good information of the matter:
peradventure he knew not what he bare, and perad-
venture is nothing guilty of the deed.’ ‘Well,’ quoth
the earl, ‘incontinent put him in prison, and let him be
so kept that I may have a reckoning of him.’ Then the
child was put into the tower.”

Frenzied by his beloved son’s apparent guilt, the
count arrested a great number of his attendants, fifteen
of whom he put to death “ right horribly,” and, but
for the intercession of the Assembly which he caused
to meet on the matter, Gaston would bave been form-
ally executed. At last the count agreed that he would
only keep him in prison a certain time. As to the
poor prisoner, he would eat nothing; he “ lay in his
clothes as he came in, and he argued in himself, and
was full of melancholy.” At last one of the attendants
went to the count, saying, ‘‘‘ Sir, for God's sake have
mercy on your son, Gaston, for he is near famished in
prison, there he lieth. I think he never did cat any-
thing since he came into prison, for I have seen there
this day all that ever I brought him before, lying
together in a corner.’ Of those words the Earl was
sore displeased; and, without any word speaking, went
out of his chamber, and came to the prison where his
son was. And, in an evil hour, he had at the same
time a little knife in his hand to pare withal his nails.
He opened the prison door, and came to his son, and
had the little knife in his hand, not an inch out of his
hand, and in great displeasure he thrust his hand to
his son’s throat, and the point of the knife a little
entered into his throat into a certain vein, and said,
‘ Ah, traitor! why dost thou not eat thy meat?” And
therewithal the carl departed without any more doing
or saying, and went into his own chamber. The child
was abashed, and afraid of the coming of his father,
and also was feeble ‘of fasting, and the point of the
knife a little entered into a vein of his throat, and so
he fell down suddenly and died. The carl was scant
in his chamber but the keeper of the child came to
him and said, ‘Sir, Gaston your son is dead!
‘Dead!’ quoth the earl. ‘ Yea, truly, sir,’ quoth he.
The earl would not believe it, but sent thither a
squire that was by him, and he went, and came again,
and said, ‘Sir, surely he is dead.’ Then the earl was
sore displeased, and made great complaint for his son,
and said, ‘ Ah, Gaston! what a poor adventure is this
for thec and for me! In an evil hour thou wentest to
Navarre, to see thy mother; I shall never have the joy
that I had before.’ Then the earl caused his barber
to shave him, and clothed himself in black, and all his
house, and with much sore weeping the child was
borne to the (house of the) Friars in Orthes, and there
buried.”

True End of Knowledge.—The greatest error is the mistaking
of the true end of knowledge; for men have entered into a
desire of learning and knowledge, sometimes, to entertain their
minds with variety and delight ; sometimes, for ornament and
reputation ; sometimes, to enable them to victory of wit and
contradiction; and most times, for lucre and profession; but
seldom, sincerely to give a true account of their gift of reason, to
the benefit and use of men: as if there were sought In know-
ledge, a couch, whereupon to rest a searching and restless spirits
or a terrace, for a wandering and variable mind to walk up and
down, with a fair prospect; or a tower of state, for a proud
mind to raise itself upon; or a fort or commanding ground, for
strife and contention ; or a shop, for profit and sale; and not a
rich storehouse for the glory of the Creator and the relief cf
man's cstate.—Lord Bacon.

3L2

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

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[Cathedral of Cologne.]

COLOGNE.

Tne fervent admiration with which the Rhine is
regarded by Germans is a just tribute to its natural
beauties, and still more to the stirring events which
are associated with the noble river. The vineyards
mirrored on its bosom, and all the varied beauties cha-
racteristic of the “scenery of the Rhine,” would not be
half so inspiring if its castled crags and ancient towns
were not rich to overflowing in the legends of antique
romance. Here the old Roman civilization irradiated
the darkness of the wild forests, and the more bene-
volent influences of modern civilization were fostered
and developed. Few of the ancient cities of Europe
can trace their origin so distinctly as Cologne. It was
a Roman station, and subsequently a “colonia,” under
the name of Colonia Claudia cr ay Pata ee from the
Emperor Claudius and his wife Agrippina, who was
born here while her father, Germanicus, commanded
in these parts. Agrippina adorned it with an amphi-
theatre, temples, aqueducts, &c., the ruins of which
may still be traced. No spot on the banks of the Rhine
exhibits so many Roman vestiges. A great part of the
wall which extends along the river is Roman, and also
one of the gates. Some of the streets still bear Latin
names. Many busts, sarcophagi, and stones, with the
numbers of the legions stationed here, have been dug
up, and with other relics are placed in a public mu-
seum. It has been doubted whether the Emperor Con-
stantine erected a bridge across the river at this spot.
The story is, that it was destroyed in the tenth century by
Otho the Great, Emperor of Germany, and that the piers
are now occasionally visible. Between Cologne and the
opposite bank of the river there is now a bridge, erected
in 1822, which rests upon thirty-nine pontoons, and
rises and falls with the tide. It is a favourite prome-
nade in fine weather. Vitellius was proclaimed em-

ee at Cologne. Trajan was here when nominated
- by the Emperor Nerva as his successor. Several of the
Romun emperors resided for some time. and Sylvanus

was assassinated, at Cologne. It continued to be the
capital of Lower Rhenish Gaul until the fourth cen-
tury, when it was sacked by the Franks, who were now
harassing the Roman power; but it was retaken. In
460 the Franks once more obtained possession, and
kept it. Clovis, their king, was proclaimed here.
After a frequent change of masters Cologne was an-
nexed to the German empire, and in 949 was consti-
tuted an imperial free city. The Roman municipal
constitution might be traced down to the period when
Cologne, in 1792, ceased to be a free city. It is now
the capital of a Prussian province, and contains about
sixty thousand inhabitants.

In the early part of the fourteenth century, Cologne,
where the grander part of the Rhine commences, was
called the “ Rome of the North.”’ It was then the seat
of the greatest wealth and civilization on this side
the Alps. Petrarch visited it in 1333, and, writing to
his friend Cardinal Colonna, he exclaims, “ How

lorious is this city!” and he commends the taste of its
inhabitants for literature and the refinements of life.
Cologne was at that time the principal town of the
great Hanseatic League, which it had joined in 1201,
and had grown rich by industry and an extensive com-
merce. It could muster an armed force of thirty
thousand men,and its population amounted to one
hundred and fifty thousand souls. Even in the
eleventh century the vessels of the Colognese car-
ried Rhenish wines, corn, flour, malt, beer, linen,
and other German produce to all countries lyin
on the German Ocean and the Baltic, to England,
France, Spain, Portugal, Italy, Norway, Sweden,
and Russia, and brought back the productions of those
countries. King John granted extraordinary privi-
leges to the merchants of Cologne who traded to Eng-
land. Whitehall was assigned to them exclusively for
the Rhenish trade. They had factories also in Nor-
way and the Netherlands. In those days the Colognese
carried matters witha high hand. They obliged all
vessels navigating the Rhine to unlade their cargoes

1842.]

at Cologne, whence they were conveyed in its own
ships. In 1452 Cologne was formally excluded from
the Hanseatic League, having taken the part of Eng-
land, against which the League had declared war, and
it was not until 1474 that it was re-united. While
commerce flourished, the arts and sciences were equally
vigorous. The University of Cologne was the most
famous in Germany. The specimens of architecture,
paintings on glass, sculptures, and pictures, which still
exist, attest the perfection which the Colognese artists
had attained.

At a later period Cologne has been celebrated
chiefly for its “monks and bones,”—the number of
its ecclesiastics, and the relics of its churches. In
1646 a local historian, after mentioning the city wall,
with its eighty-three towers and thirty-four gates, gives
the following account :—“ In Cologne there be eleven
colleges of canons, twenty-seven monasteries, thirty-
two nunneries, together with a great many convents
of Beguines, and several houses for religious old ladies
not professed ; nineteen parish churches, ten churches
attached to religious houses, thirty chapels; two great
hospitals, or, more properly speaking, hostelries, for
destitute travellers; two hospitals for the cure of the
sick poor, and eight poor-houses for the permanent
abode of those who possess no property of their own.
There are also a foundling hospital and a lunatic asy-
lum. It hath as many steeples as there be days in the
year; and twenty-five thousand of its inhabitants are
of the ecclesiastical condition.” This unfortunate pre-
ponderance of one class has not been a fortunate in-
gredient. The archbishopric, together with the tem-
poral principality, was bestowed, in 949, by Otho the
Great, upon his brother, who was the first Elector of
Cologne. Probably the rights and duties of the Co-
lognese and their civil and ecclesiastical ruler were
never well defined, but at any rate they seem scarcely
ever to have been at peace with each other. The right
of taxing the inhabitants was one of the disputed points.
Fach party had its faction, and intrigues and ma-
neeuvres were practised, so that one faction might be
played off against the other. Thus disunion was
created betwcen the patrician and plebeian classes,
though cases somctimes occurred when, for the sake of
their common interests, they joined in opposing the
pretensions of the sp ee sy Tt was chiefly
at the instigation of the ecclesiastical population that
the Jews were expelled in 1425, to the number, as it
is said, of eighty thousand, but most probably much
fewer. They carried their capital and habits of eco-
nomy and perseverance to the commercial rivals of
Cologne. Soon afterwards, after some disturbances
in which they had taken part, the weavers were driven
out, and nearly two thousand looms were burnt by the
order and in the presence of the magistrates. The
weavcrs truneiesred their industry principally to the
Netherlands, and another source of the wealth of Co-
logne was undermined. In 1616 an explosion of re-
ligious fanaticism occurred, and the Protestants were
expelled. On this occasion fourteen hundred of the
best houses in Cologne were left tenantless. Besides
these successive shocks to its prosperity, the ordinary
fluctuation of interests had ceased fo run in its favour,
though, from its position, itis still an important central
mart of the Rhenish trade with the Netherlands, Ger-
many, and Switzerland. The fame of its shrinesand relics,
which once procured for it the appellation of the “ Holy
City,” no longer attracts pilgrims from every part of
Christendom; and the bones of St. Ursula and her
eleven thousand virgins, and of the three Magi, or
Kings of Cologne, as they are called, have become
objects of curiosity instead of faith and veneration.

Cologne extends rather more than two miles along
the Icft bank of the Rhine in a semicircular shape, and

THE PENNY MAGAZINE,

443

stretches about a mileinland, It is enclosed by a lofty
wall about six miles in circuit, with eighty-three
towers rising out of the wall, which is surrounded on
the land side by ramparts and decp ditches. Strong
redoubts have been erected at the principal gates.
About a third of the space comprised within the walls
consists of the public squares, and gardens and vine-
yards which once belonged to the religious establish-
ments. The city has a curious antique appearance,
and is built in a very irregular manner. T e streets
are narrow, dark, and crooked, and paved with basalt,
and are remarkable for their filthy state. The prevail-
ing character of the architecture is Gothic. Only one
edifice, the town-hall, is in the Grecian style. The
principal structures are ecclesiastical. Though the
number of its towers and spires is not so great as
formerly, they give a rich, varied, and imposing aspect
to the city when viewed from a distance. Onc vast
pile will not fail to arrest the attention. This is the
Dom Church, or cathedral. It is unfinished, but its
massiveness and the magnificent scale on which it is
designed give it a noble and stately character ; and even
in its present state it is one of the grandest specimens of
Gothic architecture. Six centuries have elapsed since
the work was commenced. From 1248 to the end of
the fifteenth century the builders now resumed and
now laid aside their work. That iron crane, left on the
summit of one of the unfinished towers when the
scaffolding was removed, was perhaps intended to
remind coming gencrations, living in more favourable
times, that the grand fabric still awaited the last stone
of the builder. Wars of politics and religion, usurpa-
tions and aggressions, and the bitter fruits which they
bear, have hitherto left men no time to complete this
temple of Christian peace. But at length the work is
commenced, and in an ensuing number we shall enter
more fully into the singular sap of this edifice, and
the means which are in progress for finishing it in a
manner worthy of the original design.

BASKETS AND THEIR MATERIALS.

Tne details given in a recent paper, on the. economi-
cal uses of the willow, were sufficient to show that the
root, the trunk, the branches, the bark, the twigs, the
leaves, and the seed-envelope, were all applied to use-
ful del by man; but it was intimated that the
employment of the young shoots of one or two species
for basket-making was the most extensive application
of the plant in practice.

That basket-work, constructed of this or some other
kind of pliant shoot, has been known in various ages
and nations, we have abundant evidence. In ancient
times the shields of soldiers were constructed of wicker-
work, either plain or covered with hides. In Britain,
the wicker boats of the natives, covered with the skins
of animals, attracted the notice of the Romans. He-
rodotus mentions boats of the same kind, but coated
with bitumen, as being in use on the Tigris and Eu-
phrates. In many parts of Hindustan at the present
day the natives are accustomed to cross rivers in
round basket-boats, from three to fifteen feet in dia-
meter, one of which can be made by six men in as
many hours. In various parts of the world, houses,
cottages, carriages, fences, gates, and many other struc-
tures, have been made of basket-veork.

In our own country at the present day this kind of
fabric is principally employed for baskets only, and the
material used is the oster, or young willow-shoot.
Holland produces these osiers in great abundance:
they not only furnish a useful material for baskets, but
are valuable as a preservative for the banks of the
canals with which that country is intersected. The
English basket-makers used to receive their principal

446

supply of osiers from Holland and France ; but when,
during the revolutionary war, the freedom of com-
merce between the countries was interrupted, attention
began to be more particularly paid to the culture of
this plant in England. Very little was known of the
matter in England, and less in Scotland; and there-
upon the Society of Arts offered premiums to those
cultivators who should raise the greatest quantity of
osicrs (not being less than six thousand plants) per
acre. A great impetus was thus given to this branch
of agriculture ; and Mr. Borron of Warrington, Mr.
Wade of Suffolk, Mr. Phillips and Mr. Bull of Ely,
and Mr. Sherreff of Haddington, made considerable
plantations. It became an object with these cullti-
vatore to ascertain, not only the quantity that could be
obtained, but the quality of the produce, since many
plants which pass under the name of osiers, and possess
their external characters, are ill adapted for the work
intended. Mr. Phillips showed that the best kind for
basket-making js the ‘grey’ or ‘ brindled’ osier, havy-
ing a light-coloured leaf, and streaks of red or blood-
colour in the bark ; it grows vigorously, is very hardy
and tough, and bleaches well. Many of the other
kinds flourish in the most barren kind of peat; but
they are coarse and spongy, have a thick pith, and are
very perishable, and are only fitted for the coarser sort
of baskets. The best specics for the finer kind of work
is that called the French willow; it is rather of slow
growth, but extremely taper, pliant, close-grained,
tough, and durable [his kind is still procured in
large quantities from the Continent, since the attention
of English growers is more directed to the less deli-
cate species.

The transactions of the Society of Arts, and various
agricultural publications, contain many discussions
and conflicting opinions as to the best mode of cultivat-
ing osiers; but we shall here merely give a very few
details, as recommended by Mr. Sacy, in the ‘ Planters’
Kalendar.’ The soil for basket-willows ought to be
deep, well-drained, and thoroughly prepared ; the situ-
ation low, level, and naturally moist; and the supply
of water, for irrigation, plentiful. There are few soils
that will not bear willows; but dry and exposed
grounds, peat-moss, and land covered with standing
water, are unfitted for them. Hollows, the soil of
which is composed of rich, soft, earthy particles, and
which can be laid dry, form the best osieries, especially
if they can be occasionally soaked with water during
the summer months. The osier-ground must be well
provided with drains, and prepared with manure as
carefully as fora crop of wheat or barley. Mr. Sacy, as
well as other agriculturists, dwells forcibly on the error
of supposing that osiers are an aquatic plant which
will grow vigorously in any moist soil; they may do
80, it is true, but the production of fine osiers fit for the
basket-makers can only result from careful manage-
ment.

The ground being prepared, the next thing is to pro-
cure the plants. These should be of the last year’s
wood, or of shoots one year old, taken from the under-
end of well-ripened shoots of good size, and cut ina
slanting direction with a sharp knife, in lengths of
about twelve or fifteen inches. Every vigorous shoot
will afford two or three plants; and the upper end of
each, as far as it appears soft, being unripe, is discarded.
The distance at which these basket-osiers are planted
apart is about eighteen inches between the rows, and
twelve inches in the rows: to be thinned a few years
afterwards. Osier-plantations should be carefully hoed
and cleaned every year, about the month of March or
April. ‘The best season for cutting the osiers is said
to be the autumn, after the fall of the leaf; because the
buds which are left to produce the shoots for the suc-
ceeding crop immediately begin to swell, and grow in

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

[NovEMBER 12,

strength during the winter, and consequently they
make much earlier and stronger shoots in the follow-
ing spring. Immediately after cutting the rods they
are tied up in bundles, each generally about an ell in
girt; and if they are not intended to be used green,
that is, with the bark on, they are set on their thick
ends in standing water to the depth of three or four
inches. Here they remain during winter and spring,
till the shoots begin to sprout, which, in the neigh-
bourhood of London, Adabog | happens about the end
of February. Sometimes it happens that osiers are
cut with the lcaves on, in which case they are not ticd
up in bundles, on account of the fermentation that
would be produced by binding them closely together
in that state; but they are set up thinly and loosely on
end, their tops leaning against a rod supported on two
rops.

: Mr. Loudon states that in Cambridgeshire, when a
basket-maker purchases green rods, he measures the
bundles or bolts by a band an ell long, ora yard and
a quarter; which band, hace to tying it round
the rods, he marks at the point to which the given
length extends. With this he binds the bundle as soon
as it appears large enough to fill the band, and after-
wards completes the bundle by pushing under the
band as many rods as he can; for this pu the
large rods are laid aside, from their filling up the given
space more quickly than the smaller ones. Three
bands are bound round each bundle, one towards each
extremity, and one in the middle, the one nearest the
lower end being the measuring band. The bundles
are wedged close by tying up a smal] armful (called a
calf), and placing it in the middle of the bottom of the
bundle, and then driving it up into the middle of the
bundle by striking the end against the ground. A
machine called a ‘dumb-boy,’ made of wood and rope,
is used by some purchasers for compressing the
greatest possible number of rods into a bundle; and
another machine, called a ‘ cow,’ is used with still greater
effect for this purpose. This isa curious example of the
effect produced when an article gold by the bulk is
made up into parcels by the buyer and not by the
scller: it is easy to see how this system affects the
mode in which the bundles are packed. Common
green osiers sell at from eighteenpence to three shillings
per bundle.

For finer work the rods are ‘ pecled’ before being
made up into bundles; a simple operation generally
done by infirm old people at so much per bundle.
The apparatus for peeling.consists of two iron rods,
about sixteen inches long and half an inch thick, taper-
ing a little upwards, and welded together at the end,
which is sharpened. When the instrument is inserted
in a piece of firm ground, the pad sits down oppo-
site to it, takes the willow rod or twig in his right
hand by the small end, and puts a foot or more of the
thick end into the instrument, the prongs of which he

resses togcther with his left hand, while with the right

e draws the willow towards him, by which operation
the bark is at once separated from the wood : the smal]
end is then treated in the same manner, and the peel-
ing is completed. Another mode is, to fix a plank on
legs at a convenient height, so as to form a stool or
small bench, having holes bored in it; into these is put
a stick with the upper end cleft, and through this
cleft the willow twigs are drawn to separate them from
the bark.

After being peeled, the willow-rods will keep in

ood condition for a long time, till a proper market is
fuund for them. They are tied up in bundles rather
smaller than those of the green rods, and in this state
sell in the London market at from five to seven shil-
lings per bundle; being reckoned in the large way by
the ‘ load’ of eighty bundles, the green rods being so!

1842.]

by the score of bundles. It is one particular species
only of the willow, whether with or without the peel
on, which 1s generally known by the name of < osier’
in Covent Garden market; all the other kinds used
for similar purposes being known as ‘ willows.’

The occupation of making baskets from the willow-
twigs thus produced is sufficiently simple when no
beauty of appearance 1s required. In most parts of
Europe it was formerly understood by every country
labourer, and practised by him for himself or nis mas-
ter, as it still is in Russia, Sweden, and other countries
of the North. In Britain, and especially in Scotland,
it was the custom some years ago for every gardener
to understand basket-making, and it epee formed
part of his occupation in winter evenings. This is not
so much the case now; but still it has been recom-
mended that every gardener, forester, and woodman
ought to know how to make a common garden basket,
and more especially those wicker-work structures
which are now in very general use for the protection
of half-hardy trees and shrubs when young and planted
out in the open garden.

The osiers for baskets are, as we have said, used
either peeled or with the peel on, and they are used
either whole or in ‘ splits,’ or in ‘ skains,’ according to
the quality of the work required. A split is a rod
divided into either two or four: in the former case a
common knife is sufficient; but in the latter the rod is
forced against the end of an instrument consisting of
four cutting blades at right angles, whereby the rod
becomes separated into four. The skains are thin ri-
bands of Pillow, produced by passing the splits through
a kind of shave or plane, which cuts them up into strips
of any required thickness. In the finer kinds of bas-
kets the fabric is formed of sections, split of various
thicknesses, coloured, plaited, or plain ; and sometimes,
to produce a diversified effect, the skains are smoked
and dyed either of dull or brilliant colours, and then
judiciously intermixed.

So far as it is practicable to describe the manipula-
tions of basket-making without a series of illustrative
figures, we may select two or three different modes of
making common cheap garden-baskets, as a type
whence the more elaborate kinds may be judged.
Baskets may be deemed a woven structure in which
the larger osiers constitute the warp or skeleton, and
the smaller osiers the woof or wattle ; consequently we
have to bear in mind these two elements in almost
every basket. Common baskets of a roundish form,
as nade in Scotland and in Germany, have two prin-
of ribs,—a vertical rib or hoop, the upper part of
which is to form the handle, and a horizontal hoop or
rim, which is destined to support all the subordinate
ribs. For each of the two main ribs an osier rod is
first bent to the circular form, and the ends fastened
by nails or wire. The two hoops thus made are then
joined together at right angles, and fastened by wire
at the points of intersection; one hoop being for the
rim, half of the other hoop for the handle, and the
other half for part of the framework of the intended
basket. The operation of ‘wattling’ is then com-
menced by taking the small end of an osier and passing
it once or twice round the cross formed by the points
of intersection; after which a few secondary ribs are
formed on each side of the vertical main rib. The
wattling is then proceeded with a little farther, when
twoor more secondary ribs are introduced; and this
process is continued till a sufficient number of subor-
dinate ribs are put in to support the wattling or woof
of the entire structure. The distance of the subordinate
ribs apart at the widest part may be from three to four
inches. When the form of the basket is a square or
ena ena exactly the same process is pursued ;

ut greater care and skill are required in bending

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

4.47

both the main ribs and the subordinate ribs to the re-
quired forms, the rod being often split for this pur-
ose, and Jaid with the pith-side inwards.

Another Scotch mode is, to lay two stout osiers on
the floor, at right angles to each other, and to weave
around them one or two smaller osiers, a3 a nucleus in
which to insert the ends of other ribs, which are ex-
tended in different numbers and directions, according
as the basket is to be circular, oval, or rectangular.
When the bottom is worked in, the ribs are turned
upwards, and the work continued in a perpendicular
direction as high as required. A horizontal rod, or
rim, is then made fast to the upright ribs by wattling,
and a handle is added if necessary.

A common English mode is, to begin by laying three
stout ozier-rods on the floor, parallel and in contact,
and three others above them at right aneles, all six
being cut to a length a little exceeding the diameter
of the basket. The basket-maker now puts his foot on
the centre of intersection of the six rods, and inter-
weaves smaller rods around and among them in a
spiral form, opening the six rods from time to time, so
that ultimately they stand out equidistant, like the
spokes of a whee]. The weaving being carried on to
the full diameter of the bottom, the latter is now turned
upside down, and, the points of the radiating ribs being
cut off, a willow rod is inserted on each side of each
rib, and turned upwards. These upright rods become
a warp, into which smaller rods can be woven to form
the side of the basket. The upper ends of the rods are
finally brought down and plaited into a sort of rim or
edge, and a handle is added if necessary.

All these methods are for baskets of the commonest
kind ; but they involve the simple principles whereon,
when modified, all basket-work is conducted.

HORSES IN THE EAST, AND THEIR
TREATMENT.

{From the ‘ Pictorial History of Palestine.’)

Captain Frankland in his ‘ Travels to and from Con-
stantinople,’ states that the horse of Syria is generally
about fifteen hands high, strong and active, mostly of
Syrian dams by Arabian sires; the price varying from
four hundred to one thousand piastres. ‘‘ They are
hardy, well-tempered, and sure footed, have seldom
any disorder, and live to a great age. They become
exceedingly attached to the groom, and will follow
him as a dog follows his master.” Burckhardt informs
us that there are three breeds of horses in Syria :—the
true Arab breed, the Turkman, and the Kourdy;
which last is a mixture of the two former.

The Turkman horses, being of a larger size, or
stronger make, and more martial appearance, and
when dressed displaying the Turkish trappings to
more advantage. are preferred by the Osmanlis to the
Arab horses. They are taught to walk gracefully in
a crowd, to set off at once full speed, to turn on either
hand at the gentlest touch from the rider, and to stup
short instantly when he pleases. But the horses in
Syria are not in general so well broke in the menage,
or have such splendid action, as those of Cairo.

The Arabian horses are of more slender make, and
—it may startle some to Jearn—in appearance less
showy; but they are beautifully limbed, more hardy,
and reckoned much fleeter. The esteem they are
held in by the Arabs themselves, the scrupulous care
taken to preserve the purity of the breeds, and the
reluctance with which the Arabs consent to part with
their mares, are circumstances often mentioned by
travellers. The Rev. V. Monro, in his ‘Summer
Ramble in Syria,’ relates that on the visit to the river
Jordan one of the Arab escort, “a great ruffian was

448 THE PENNY
mounted on a white mare of great beauty. Her large
fiery eye gleamed from the edge of an open forehead,
and her exquisite little head was finished with a pout-
ing lip and expanded nostril. Her ribs, thighs, and
shoulders were models of make, with more bone than
commonly belongs to the Syrian Arab; and her
stately step received additional dignity from that
aristocratic set on and carriage of the tail which is the
infallible indication of good family. . . . . Having
inquired her price, I offered the sum, whereupon the
dragoon asked one-third more. After much bating
and debating, I acceded, and he immediately stepped
back in the same proportion as before. This is in-
variably the practice with the Arabs. It has happened
to me repeatedly in hiring horses, that, if the terms
have been agreed upon without two days being
occupied in the treaty, they imagine more might have
been obtaincd, fly from the bargain, and increase their
demand. I therefore discontinued my attempts to
deal. The Arab said he loved his mare better than
his own life; that money was of no use to him; but that
when mounted upon her he felt rich as a pasha.
Shoes and stockings he had none, and the net value of
his dress and accoutrements might be calculated at
something under seventeenpence sterling.”

D‘Arvicux has an interesting chapter upon Arabian
horses, in the course of which he mentions that there
are partnerships in valuable mares. ‘“ A Marseilles
merchant,” he goes on to say, “ was thus partner in
a mare with an Arab whose name was Ibrahim Abou
Vouasses. This mare, whose name was Touysse,
besides her beauty, her youth, and her price of twelve
hundred crowns, was of the first noble race. That
merchant had her whole genealogy, with her descent
both on the sire and mother’s side, back for five
hundred years, all from public records. Ibrahim
made frequent journeys to Rama to inquire news of
that mare, which he loved extremely. I have many a
time had the pleasure to see him cry with tenderness,
-while he was kissing and caressing her: he would
embrace her. would wipe her eycs with his handker-
chief, would rub her with his shirt-sleeves, and would
rive her a thousand blessings during whole hours that
he would be talking to her:—‘ My eyes!’ would he
say to her, ‘my soul! my heart! Must I be so un-
fortunate as to have thee sold to so many masters, and
not be able to keep thee myself? I am poor, m
gazelle! You know well enough, my sweet, that
have brought thee up like my child. I never beat
thee, never chid thee: but did cherish thee as the
apple of mine eye. God preserve thee, my dearest!
Thou art beautiful! thou art sweet! thou art lovely!
God defend thee from the evil eye!’ And so he
would go on saying a thousand things like these. He
then embraced her, kissed her eyes, and went back-
wards bidding her the most tender adieus.”’

D’Arvieux adds, that this reminds him of an Arab
of Tunis, who would not deliver up a mare which
had been bought for the stud of the King of France.
“ When he had put the money in his bag, he looked
wistfully upon his mare, and began to weep. ‘ Shall
it be possible,’ said he, ‘ that after having bred thee up
in my house with so much care, and after having had
so much service from thee, I should be delivering thee
up in slavery to the Franks for thy reward? No!
I never will do it, my darling!’ And with that he
threw down the money upon the table, embraced and
kissed his mare, and took her home with him again.”

This singular attention to the breed of the horses
still subsists in some parts of Arabia; but in the con-
fines of the desert, where the Europeans are settled,
the spirit of avarice predominates, and the native
integrity of an Arab, unable to resist temptation, is
transformed into the low cunning of a jockey. And

MAGAZINE. [NovemMBgER 12,
so with the Turks, among whom Captain Frankland
attests a good deal of jockeyship and duplicity will
be found, not unworthy of Newmarket or Epsom,
displayed upon occasion of the purchase or sale of
horses. They frequently procure a number of their
friends to come, as by accident, and puff off the horse
in question, bidding against the favellet, and showing
a great apparent anxiety to purchase themselves. In
these cases, the only plan is to get backed likewise b

another party, who decry the animal, and affect to find
unfavourable marks about him. The Turks and Arabs
are 80 superstitious in thcse matters, that they will
not trust themselves upon a horse which has a bad
mark about him ;—this being sure to portend some evil
to the rider, The traveller may thus get a horse
cheap. . . . . The Kings of France and Bavaria [this
was in 1827] sent experienced horse-dealers into Syria,
to purchase Arab stallions for the European haras.
The captain never met with these agents, but was told
by good judges, who have seen much of them and
their cattle, that they had in general becn much taken
in. Indeed, good horses upon the coast are very
difficult to be had. The plains of the Haouran afford
the best market; but they are distant, and not much
visited by European merchants. In general the
Arabs will not part with their lest horses—these are
too precious to be sold—but, trading upon the reputa-
tion of their animals, they will endeavour to put off a
most inferior horse with the most solemn and formal
assurances ofits being of the best brecd in Arabia.
In the interior of Arabia, as noticed by Niebuhr, the
natives, who on other occasions care little about taking
a false oath, are never known to sign a false decla-
ration as to the genealogy of a horse. But on the
borders of Arabia, as in Syria, the Arabs, corrupted by
intercourse with strangers, have very slight scruples
on the subject, and the ¢eskar, or formal attestation of
the genealogy, is often attested by persons who know
nothing of the matter beyond what they have been
instructed to swear.

The Arabs greatly prefer to ride mares rather than
horses, the greater proportion of which thy sell to the
townspeople ; and as it happens that the Turks prefer
horses, this differing taste acts exceedingly well. The
price of an Arab horse in Syria was, in Burckhardt’s
time (1810-1816), from 102. to 1207; the latter price
being the highest known. An Arab mare can scarcely
be obtained under GO/.; and even at that price it is
difficult for the townspeople to purchase one, Prices
have risen considerably since the English have been
in the habit of purchasing Arabian horses at Bagdad
and Basra to send to India. The Arabs themselves
often pay as much as 200/. for a celebrated mare, and
even sucha price as 500/. has been given—a prodigious
sum, considering the scarcity and consequent high
value of money in Western Asia. Burckhardt men-
tions a sheikh who had a famous mare, for the half* of
which he gave 400/,

(To be continued.j}

* This phraseology needs explanation. A mare of high breed
is seldom sold without the seller reserving the half or two-thirds
of her. If he sells half, the buyer takes the mare, and is obliged
to let the seller take the mare's next filly, or to keep the filly
himself and return the mare. If the Arab has sold but one-third
of the mare, the purchaser takes her home, but must give the
seller the fillies of two years, or else one of them and the mare.
The fillies of the third year, and all subsequent, belong to the
buyer, as well as all the male colts, whether produced the first
or any following year. It thus happens that most of the Arab
mares are the joint property of two or three persons, or even of
half a dozen, if the price of the mare be very high. A mare is
sometimes sold on the remarkable condition that all the booty
obtained by the man who rides her shall be shared between him
aud the seller.

Tr '-3- QB Ferme 2S Bean asa ’ *“™

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1932.]

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THE PENNY MAGAZINE,

449

(The Glastonbury Thorn.]

THE HAWTHORN.

Mr. Lovpon, in his ‘ Arboretum,’ confesses himself
an enthusiastic admirer of the ‘ Crataegus’ genus, and
asks if any other could afford so many resources if a
man were exiled to an estate with permission to choose
only one genus of ligneous plants to form all his
lantations, shrubberies, orchards, and flower-gardens ?
e most complete collection of the genus is in the
arboretum of the Messrs. Loddiges at eorie! which
contains eighty sorts. At Somerford Hall, Stafford-

shire, there is a collection nearly as complete, made by

General Monckton, a great admirer of the genus.
The blossoms of each species and variety are generally
in great profusion, and in most kinds are particularly
fragrant. The fruit varies greatly in size and colour.
In one species it is as small as a grain of mustard-seed,
while the Mexican thorn bears yellow fruit as large as
a golden pippin. The fruit of the azarola thorn is
eaten in Italy, and that of another kind is sold in the
markets of Montpellier. The flowers of the common
brier-rose are distinguished by the same characteristics
as the hawthorn-blossom, and the thorn genus is closely
allied to the Rosacew and to the apple-tree. Some of our
cultivated fruits have almost as humble an origin as the
common haw of the hedges. One species of thorn is
evergreen, and is often seen planted against the walls
of houses, which it enlivens in autumn by its scarlet
berries, and in winter by its perennial foliage.

The common hawthorn (white-thorn, May, or May-
bush) is as redolent of poetical associations in England

No. 682.

as the rose in the East. It is connected with the festi-
vals of old English rural life, with May-day celebra-
tions and dances round the Maypole, and all open-
hearted pleasures of merry England in other times.
A floral holiday betokens a poetical taste for nature
and a freedom from griping and sordid cares, which,
looking back upon the times when such days were
celebrated, seems to give them a tinge of the golden
age. We borrowed the May-day games from the Ro-
mans, who, as well as the Greeks, honoured the May-
blossom in their floral celebrations. There are about
twenty-nine varieties of hawthorn, and the species
grows wild in every part of Europe. In France it is
often called 2’ épine noble, from the belief that it fur-
nished the crown of thorns planted on the brow of our —
Saviour. The spine, or thorn, often disappears by
cultivation, as it has done in the pear-tree, which, in
its wild state, is armed with thorns. Mr. Loudon
says,—‘* In the environs of London we have observed
the scarlet-flowered variety repeatedly in hedges, and
also varieties with variegated leaves, with woolly fruit,
with yellow fruit, and with pendulous shoots. As to
varieties in the leaves, they are endless; and the same
may be said of the size and of the hardness or fleshi-
ness of the fruit.” The reason is, that many millions
of plants have been raised from seed in nurseries, and
those which evinced any peculiarity have been kept
apart and i ay ai by grafting. The varieties with
scarlet or pink flowers are very beautiful objects on a
lawn. There is a variety with red petals and white
claws; a later variety has the petals wholly red, and

Vow) XI.—3 M

450 THE PENNY
the flowers very large; and another, not often seen,
has double flowers of scarlet. The variety which bears
double white flowers is very beautiful, and the petals
in fading become tinged witha delicate pink hue. The
Glastonbury or early-flowering thorn 1s another va-
riety, and is reinarkable for the season at which its
blossoms are produced, and for the legend connected
with that circumstance. The story was, according to
the monks of Glastonbury Abbey, that Joseph of Ari-
mathea visited this country for the purpose of con-
verting the inhabitants; and at Glastonbury, as a

roof of the divine authority of his mission, he planted
his staff into the ground, which immediately burst
forth into branchand blossom. ‘The blossuming of the
tree on Christmas-day was regarded as a confirmation
of the legend. The old thorn is said to have been de-
stroyed by the Puritans, but a descendant remains,
In 1833 Mr. Loudon received a branch from it, gathered
on the Ist of December, which bore both blossoms and
ripe fruit, and his correspondent stated that it would
flower again in May. In the following year Mr.
Loudon received a branch of the Glastonbury thorn,
gathered in the Botanic Garden at Oxford, which dis-
rvlayed fully expanded blossoms and ripe fruit. Mr.
Toude says that the trees of this species in the gar-
dens of the Horticultural Society and at Messrs. Lod-
diges’ flower sometimes in December, and sometimes
not until March or April.

The hawthorn is said to have been used by the
Romans in England for forming hedges, and we know
trom books that it has been so employed for at least
four hundred years. Plants of the hawthorn were
collected in the woods, and hedges were made with the
addition of the holly, the sloe, and some other species ;
but for a long period it would only be the land imme-
diately surrounding the dwelling-placc, and gardens,
and plantations that would be enclosed with a live
fence. Mr. Selby says that in Northumberland and
other parts of England north of the Tees the greatest
proportion of quickset-hedges have been planted within
the last eighty years. Nurseries for quicksets were
not established much before Evelyn’s time, that is,
about two hundred years ago. The immense number
of enclosure acts within the last eighty years occasioned
an enormous demand for quicksets, and the raising of
them became one of the largest branches of employ-
ment in a country nursery ; and though the demand is
not so extensive as it once was, Mr. Loudon states that
it continues greater and more steady than for any other
plant of the nursery. Quicksets are produced from
sced, which vegetates in its second ha In the first
and second years after they appear they are planted in
rows, and after remaining two, or perhaps three eas
they are ready for planting in heal erows for a future
fence. It is to its hedges that England is indebted for
much of its cultivated and sheltered appearance, and
perhaps, to some extent, the number of its small birds.
The scientific agriculturists of the present day are
declaring war against lofty hedges, which occupy too
much room and obstruct the circulation of air, and the
plan is to cut them down to the height of about four
feet. Even these are more pleasing than the stone
‘hedges’ of Derbyshire, though they also agree well
with the scenery in which their use is a local necessity.
The colonists of New Zealand have introduced the
hawthorn fot fences into that distant region.

The hawthorn must not, however, be exclusively con-
sidered as a plant for hedges. It is entitled to be con-
sidered as a tree of the second or third rank. They are
found with trunks varying in height from four to up-
wards of ten feet, and a total height of forty-five feet,
some of which are growing wild, and others have been
nurtured by cultivation. An old thorn at Duddingstone,

MAGAZINE. [NoveMBER 19,
request of Mr. Loudon, was forty-three feet high; the
diameter of the space over which the branches ex-
tended was forty-four feet; the circumference at three
fcet above the root, nine fect and a half; and a little
way above the root, ten feet and a half. Mr. Selby, in
his recent work, says that at Jardine Hall, Dumfries-
shire, there is at present a thorn, planted in 1708, and
the circle overspread by its branches is nearly fifty feet.
Its form is elezant and picturesque, with falling or
slightly pendulous branches. Mr. Jesse says that the
old thorns in Bushy Park are most probably above
two centuries old. He points out a remarkable pro-
peu in the thorn. ‘ As they increase in age they

ave the property of separating themselves into dif-
ferent steins, some having four or five, and even six,
which, as they separate, become regularly barked
round, forming to appearance so many distinct trees
closely planted together, except that they all meet at
the ‘butt’ of the tree. Some of the thorns are now
undergoing the process of separation, having already
thrown out one stem; while in other parts they are
deeply indented with scams down the whole stem.”
The hawthorn requires a good soil for the full deve-
lopment of its size. The wood is hard and firm, close
in grain, and susceptible of a fine polish. It is used
for cogs in mill-whceels, for flails, handles for hammers,
mallets, &c. It makes excellent fuel, and burns as
well when green as in a dry state.

Some controversy has been maintained as to the
claims of the hawthorn as a picturesque tree ; but even
if it could be pronounced the reverse, the natural asso-
ciations connected with it as one of the blooming
heralds of. summer, and other sentiments which it
awakens, would render it a favourite. Gilpin alleged
that it was a round, heavy, and matted bush, and that
its blossoms were too profuse. This may often be the
case. But Sir T. Dick Lauder observes that “the
hawthorn is not only an interesting object by itsclf, but
produces a most interesting combination or contrast, as
things may be, when grouped with other trees. We
have seen it,” he says, “hanging over rocks, with deep
shadows under its foliage; or shooting from their sides
in the most fantastic forms, as if to gaze at its image in
the deep pool below. We have seen it contrasting its
tender green and its delicate Jeaves with the brighter
and deeper masses of the holly and the alder. We
have seen it growing under the shelter, though not
under the shade, of some stately oak, embodying the
idea of beauty protected by strength. Our eyes have
often caught the motion of the busy mill-wheel, over
which its blossoms were clustering. We have scen it
growing on the green of the village-school, perhaps
the only thing remaining to be recognised when the
schoolboy returns as the man. We have seen its aged
boughs overshadowing one-half of some peaceful cot-
tage; its foliage half concealing the window, whence
the sounds of happy- content and cheerful mirth came
forth.” Therefore, for its associations alone, it cannot be
regarded withoutenotion. Mr. Loudon suggests that
a greater variety of the genus Crataegus should be in-
troduced ; “and were it,” he says, “ only the practice, in
planting hedges along the sides of the public highways,
to introduce here aud there as standards thirty or forty
sorts, which might be raised from seed, the ornament
to the country would be such as those only can form an
idea of who have seen the collections at White Knights,
near Reading, when the trees are in flower and when
they are in fruit.”. We believe, however, the road-
makers would protest against such a practice. Mr.
Selby speaks of the fine effect produced by large and
ancient thorns in the ravines near Pease Bridve, on
the great northern road. Here they are mixed “ with
a few detached and gnarled oaks, and the vacant

near Edinburgh, which was measured in 1836, at the ; spaces enriched with the golden blossoms of the

1842. ] THE PENNY
whin.” In the northern district in which he resides,

the hawthorn, he says, is one of the greatest accessories
to the beauty of the denes and ravines.

PLANTS USED IN DYEING BLUE.

Tue ingredients for producing a blue dye have, like
many others of the materials of manufacture, been the
subject of much bitter discussion and much hostile
lezislation, according as the growers of one kind
gained the ascendency over those of the other. Woad
and indigo are the inaterials here alluded to; which,
together with orchil or archil, constitute the three
principal plants for imparting a blue or purple dye to
woven fabrics.

Woad isa plant cultivated in Lincolnshire and some
other parts of England, as well as on the Continent,
for the sake of the leaves, which, after being properly
manufactured, are used as an ingredient in dyeing
blue, and asa basis for black. It is a biennial plant,
with a strone thickish fibrous root, which peneirates
deep into the soil. The flowers are yellow; and the
stem, which rises to four or five feet in height, is
smooth. The plant is sown in spring, after a double
tillaze in autumn. Three or four crops are obtained in
a year; the first when the stems begin to grow yellow,
and the flowers about to appear; the others at suc-
cessive intervals of six weeks or more, according to
the climate and heat of the season.

The ‘method of procedure, when the leaves have
heen gathered, is nearly the same in England and in
France. Astruc describes the French system to he
the following :—As soon as the leaves are gathered,
they are carried directly to a mill, somewhat resem-
bling an oil or tan mill. Here they are ground into a
paste, which is then laid in heaps, pressed close and
smooth. A blackish crust forms on the outside, which
is kept free from cracks, as the quality of the plant is
thereby better preserved. After lying for about a
fortnight the heaps are opened, the crust rubbed and
nixed with the interior portions, and the whole formed
into oval balls, which are pressed close and solid in
wooden moulds. These are dried upon hurdles; in
the sun, they turn black on the outside; in a close
place yellowish, especially if the weather be damp;
and the dealers generally prefer the first kind. The
good balls are distinguished by their being weighty, of
an agreeable smell, and, when rubbed, of a violet
colour within, For the use of the dyer, these balls
require a further preparation. They are beaten with
wooden mallets, on a brick or stone floor, into a gross
powder, which is heaped up in the middle of the room
to the height of four fect; a space being left for pass-
ing round the sides. The powder, moistened with
water, ferments, and throws out a thick fetid fume.
It is shovelled backwards and forwards, and moistened,
every day for ‘nearly a fortnight; after which it is
stirred Jess frequently, without watering, and at lencth
made into a heap for the dyer. The powder thus pre-
pared gives only brownish tints, but on diluting the
powder with boiling-water, and allowing it to ferment
for a time with a litle newly-slaked lime, a blue froth
rises to the surface, and the liquid becomes fitted to
impart a green colour, which changes to blue on ex-
posure to the air.

Beckmann has collected some curious illustrations
of the opposition which the growers of woad or pastel
(another name for the plant) in different parts of Eu-

MAGAZINE. 451
governments to prohibit the use of indigo. In Ger-
many, an imperial edict was published in 1654, pro
hibiting the use of indigo, or ‘devil's dye,’ and direct-
ine great care to be taken to prevent its clandestine
importation, “ because,” savs the edict, “ the trade in
woad is Icssened, dyed articles injured, and money
carried out of the country.” The magistrates of Nu-
remberg went further, and compelled the dyers of that
city to take an oath once a ycar not to use indigo,
which practice was continued down to a late period.
In 1538, upon an earnest representation of the States
of Languedoc, at the solicitation of the woad-growers,
the use of indigo was prohibited in that province; and
it was not till 1737 that the dyers of France were left
at liberty to dye with such articles, and in such a way,
as they pleased. Mr. M‘Culloch pointedly remarks,
‘‘Let not those who may happen to throw their eyes
over this paragraph smile at the ignorance of our an-
cestors,—mutato nomine, de te fabula narratur. How
much opposition is nade at this moment to the im-
portation of many important articles, for no better rea-
sons than were alleged in the sixteenth century against
the importation of indigo!’ The character now given
to woad as a dye is this,—that it is at the present dav
seldom employed without a mixture of indigo. By
itself it is Incapable of giving a bright and deep blue
colour, but the colour which it docs give is very
durable.

Indigo.—This valuable substance is obtained from a
tropical plant called Indigofera, cultivated in the East
ioiies and to a much smaller extent in America.
The Indian variety (which is that from which our in-
digo is chiefly produced) has pinnate leaves, and a
slight ligneous stem, and, when successfully cultivated,
rises toa height of four or five feet. The leaves, as
in the case of woad, constitute the part which yiclds
the colouring-matter.

The indigo-plant requires a rich, smooth, and well-
tilled soil. The seed, which in figure and colour re-
sembles gunpowder, is sown in little furrows two or
three inches deep, at the distance of a foot apart; the
sowing season being generally the spring. Moisture
causes the plant to shoot above the surface in three or
four days, and continual attention is then required to
pluck up the weeds, which would otherwise choke the
plant. It is ripe at the end of two months. When it
begins to flower, it is cut with pruning-knives; and
acain at the end of every six weeks. It lasts about
two years, after which time it degencrates, and is then
plucked up and planted afresh. The culture is very
precarious, not only in so far as respects the growth of
the plant from year to year, but also as regards the
quantity and quality of the drug which the same
amount of plant will afford even in the same season.
Sometimes the plant becomes dry, and is destroyed by
an insect frequently found in it; at other times the
leaves, which are the valuable part of the plant, are
devoured in the space of twenty-four hours by cater-
pillars. Hence a saying has arisen, that very fre-
quently “an indigo-planter goes to bed rich, and rises
in the morning totally ruined.”

In order that the dyeing ingredient may be extracied
from the leaves, the latter are, as soon as gathered,
thrown into a large vessel filled with water; care
being taken not to lose or scatter a kind of bloom or
farina which is found on the leaves, and which const -
tutes a great part of their value. The leaves ferment
during twenty-four hours in the vessel of water, from

rope made to the introduction of indigo as a blue dye. | which the liquid is then drawn off into a second vessel.

The ancient Britons are supposed to have employed |

This liquid is found to be impregnated with a very

woad in dyeing thcir skins; and many evidences exist | subtile earth, which alone constitutes the dregs or blue

to show that the same substance was generally em- | substance that is the object of the process.

This earth

ployed in many countries of Europe in very early | is combined with a useless salt which the plant had

times,

The growers of woad prevailed on several ! yielded; and it is necessary to separate the

two before

3M 2

452

the carth can be recovered in its pure state. The
separation is effected by violently agitating the liquid ;
but if this be not carefully effected, either part of the
indigo is wasted, or its quality becomes deteriorated,
and it obtains the name of ‘burnt indigo.’ When it
is perceived that the coloured particles collect by sepa-
rating from the rest of the hquor, the whole is left
stationary, in order to allow the blue dregs to be pre-
cipitated. The water is then drawn off, and the sedi-
ment, a kind of thick muddy liquor, is transferred to a
third vessel, where it is still further separated from
water. It is next strained through cloths, and, when
so thoroughly drained as to become a thick paste, It is
put into chests, where it is allowed for a period of
three months to part gradually with all its moisture.
It then constitutes the indigo of commerce.

Good indigo is known by its lightness, or small spe-
cific gravity, indicating the absence of earthy impu-
rities; by the mass not readily parting with its colour-
ing-matter when tested by drawing a streak with it
over a white surface; and by the purity of the colour
itself. The Bengal indigo is the best kind, and is
divided into many qualities according to the purity of
its colour; such as fine blue, ordinary blue, fine purple,
purple and violet, ordinary purple and violet, dull blue,
inferior blue and violet, strong copper, and ordinary
copper. ae we this

‘The quantity and value of the indigo used in_ this
country would surprise many readers. There have
been as much as eight million pounds imported into
Great Britain in one year, of which about three
millions were retained for home consumption. The

rice fluctuates considerably ; the common kinds vary-
ing from two to six shillings, and the best from six to
fifteen shillings per pound, at different times. Mr.
M‘Culloch states, “ The consumption of indigo has
varicd but little in this country during the last dozen
years (previously to 1834), having been, at an average
of that period, about two million three hundred thou-
sand poundsa year. This stationary demand, notwith-
standing the fall in the price of the drug and the in-
crease of population, is pe to be ascribed to
the decreasing use of blue cloth, in the dyeing of
which it is principally made use of. Its consumption
in France is about as great as in Britain. Besides the
exports to Great Britain, France, and the United
States, a good deal of Bengal indigo is exported to the
ports on the Persian Gulf, whence it finds its way to
Southern Russia. It is singular that it is not used by
the Chinese, with whom blue is a favourite colour.”

The action of an indigo-dye is very remarkable. In
its real state as indigo it is insoluble in water, and only
becomes soluble when it is so chemically changed as
to produce a yellow dye, and to combine with lime or
potash. But any woven fabric which has been thus
dyed yellow, begins to turn green immediately on ex-
posure to the atmosphere, and the ‘green gradual]
changes to the blue for which indigo is so much
valued. It appears now to have become almost an
indispensable aid to the dyer; and it is said that one
pound of indigo leaves will-yield thirty times as much
colouring-matter as an equal weight of woad, the qua-
lity too being superior.

Orchtl or Archil.—This dye-drug might perhaps
about as fittingly be classed among the reds as the
blues; since it is employed for tints in which both of
those are combined, such as violet and lilac. The
plant itself isa whitish lichen, called by the several
names of orchtl, archil, orchilla, orchella, orseille, ori-
cello, orcella, and cultivated chiefly in the Canary and
Cape de Verd Islands, Barbary, and the Levant. It is
a moss which grows upright, partly in single, partly
in double stems, which are about two inches in height.
When it is old, these stems are crowned with a button,

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

[NOVEMBER 19,

sometimes round and sometimes of a flatform. Those

who prepare the moss for the use of the dyer grind it

betwixt stones, so as to bruise it thoroughly without re-

ducing it to powder, and then mix it with quickime

and other substances. Alkalies extract from it a co-

ee which is first violet, then purplish red, and then
ue,

The use of orchil as a dye has been traced back to

very early times. It is supposed to be the same plant
as was stated by Pliny to grow on the island of Crete,
and to have been used for dyeing wool. He states that
the colour which it gave, when fresh, was so beautiful,
that it excelled the still more ancient purple or violet
dye ; and that the dyers used it as a groundor first tint
for their purple dyes. Orchil is still collected in the
Greek islands, where it appears to have been more or
less used from the time oF the classical writers. Beck-
mann supposes that the inhabitants of western Europe
learned the use of orchil from the Greeks ; and that the
Florentines introduced it as a dye-stuff into Europe at
the beginning of the fourteenth century. He observes
that among the oldest and principal Florentine fami-
lies is that known under the name of the Oricellarii,
Rucellarii, or Rucellai ; one of whom, in the year 13u0,
carried on a great trade in the Levant, and, returning
with great wealth to Florence, first made known in
western Europe the art of dyeing with orchil; and
from this useful invention the family received the name
of Oricellarii, from which, in process of time, was
formed Rucellai. After that period the Italians pro-
cured the plant from the Levant for themselves, and
afterwards for all Europe. But since the discovery of
the Canary Islands, about the end of the fourteenth or
the beginning of the fifteenth century, the greater part
of the substance has been procured trom them.. Inthe
islands of Canary, Teneriffe and Palma this moss
belongs to the crown; and there exists a record that
in 1730 it was let or farmed by the king of Spain for
1500 piastres. In the rest of the islands it belongs tu
private proprictors, who cause it to be collected on
their own account. About the year 1730 the captain
of an English vessel brought a bag of this plant from
the Cape de Verd Islands to Santa Cruz, by way of
trial ; and, discovering his secret to some Spanish and
Genoese merchants, they fitted out a ship in the follow-
ing ycar for those islands, whence they brought large
quantities of the plant.
. The dyers do not purchase raw orchil, but a paste
made from it, which the French call “ orseille en pate.”
The preparation of this paste was for a long time kept
secret by the Florentines ; but it gradually spread into
other countries. The dyers seldom use this drug by
itself, on account of its costliness and want of dura-
bility; but they chiefly employ it to impart a bloom to
other colours, by passing the dyed cloth or silk through
hot water lightly impregnated with the orchil. The
watery solution of orchil applied to cold marble pene-
trates it, communicating a beautiful vivlet colour, or
a blue bordering on purple, which resists the air much
longer than the orchil colours applied to other sub-
stances. Dufay says that he has seen marble tinged
with this colour preserve it without alteration at the
end of two years.

There is a variety of orchil called cudbear, produced
from the lichen ftartareus, by a process analogous to
that employed with orchil. Dr. Thomson has the fol-
lowing remark concerning this substance:— The
manufacture of this dye-stuff was begun about the year
1777, at Leith, by Mr. Mackintosh and Dr. Cuthbert
Gordon, from which last the British name of Cudbear
(originally Cuthbert) is derived. Leith was found an
improper place for the manufacture; but Mr. Mackin-
tosh transferred it to Glasgow, and manufactured cud-
bear during the rest of his life with success. He left

1$42.]

THE PENNY MAGAZINE

453

it to his son Charles Mackintosh, Esq., who still carries | had recourse to Sweden and Norway, and likewise to

it on. The lichens used were at first collected in the

Sardinia, from which prodigious quantities of the

Highlands of Scotland; but the rocks of that country | lichens were brought. There is said also to be a manu
being stripped of their covering, the manufacturers | factory of cudbear at Liverpool.”

THE “ METEOR” MONKS OF THESSALY.

Tus buildings represented in the above engraving
are Greek convents, inhabited by Carthusian monks,
who, in order to remove shemsslves as much as pos-
sible from the vanities and temptations of the world,
have placed their dwellings on some of the highest
rocks which the mountainous region of Albania
affords. pote principally in the immediate neigh-
bourhood of Mount Pindus, the highest of the moun-
tains forming the Albanian chain, and which com-
mands an extensive view of hills, and woods, and
pen and rivers, every spot of which is consecrated

y some glorious event in the history of ancient Greece,
or by some poetic allusion which the classic student
recalls with fervour as he gazes on the prospect. “ Be-
fore us in the extreme distance,” says Mr. Turner, who
visited Mount Pindus in 1819, “lay Olympus to the
north-east; beneath it was Thermopyle, and to the
right Parnassus. On the plain before me winded two
insignificant streams, once the Achelous and the Pe-
neus. In my life I was never so enchanted as by the
vast extent of prospect that I enjoyed from this justly
celebrated mountain.” *

* ‘Journal of a Tour in the Levant,’ by W. Turner, Esq.,
(820.

(Convents of the Meteor Monks. ]

| '
} ; '
| }
{ Meee |
fT i} 1
( j i

Tay
AiG A

s= ke fee it wi Ey
Z s — itt < *
= y" \ SS Yi | HANS pyet **y

We must acknowledge a situation like this wel!
chosen by these solitary Carthusians, who, giving
themselves little heed for their present wants, allow
their thoughts to dwell only on the history of the past,
and on their prospects of the future. As the convents
lie out of the beaten track, but few travellers are aware
of their existence ; and they are therefore but seldom
visited by strangers. To him, however, who has wan-
dered to their vicinity, their appearance may well
occasion some surprise; for, perched on the highest
points of insulated rocks, they appear to have been
transported thither by angels (like the far-famed
House of Our Lady at Loretto), or to have fallen from
the clouds like meteors, as it seems almost impossible
they could ever otherwise have gained their footing.
It is from this latter supposition that they are known
among the Albanians as the ‘‘ Meteors.’’ There are
about nine or ten of these monasteries near Mount
Pindus, and the inonks who inhabit them, when they
leave them to procure provisions or other necessaries,
have to be lowered to the ground by a basket and rope,
and raised again by the same means, except in one or
two instances, wherc a staircase has been made In the
interior of the rock, to the entrance of which (at some
height from the ground) access may be gained by lad-
ders furnished by monks in the interior. M. Dupré,

454

a French artist, who published a collection of sketches
made during a visit to Greece in 1819, has given a

representation of several of these convents (of one of | Arab horse is schdom ill.

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

[NovewBer 19,

posed to the inclemency of the weather at all seasons,
and with very little attention paid to its health, the
From the time that a colt is

which we have availed ourselves in our engraving), | first mounted (which is after its second year), the saddle
and has also described a visit made to it by himself and | is scarcely ever off its back: in winter a sackcloth is

fellow-travellers, which we in part extract, as showing:
the mode in which admission is gained.

Having by means of great shouting made the monks
aware of their intention to pay them a visit, they at
length perceived some preparations being made ina
balcony of the convent, which overhung the rock, for
their ascent. A bag or net was slowly let down to
them by a strong cord, in which each of the party was
to make a separate ascent, so that were a large party
to visit the place a considerable time must elapse be-
fure they were all housed. “ Mr. Hyctt risked himself
the first. He placed himself, well doubled up, in the
net, and was raised in a few minutes to a height of a
hundred and thirty feet, by means of a capstan in the
balcony, worked by a dozen monks. In the mean
time Mr. Hay had mounted a ladder, and thence, by a
rope-ladder furnished by the monks, had gained the
entrance to a staircase which led to the convent, exca-
vated in the interior of the rock. The apparatus hav-
ing re-descended, and the capstan being about to be
arain worked, I entered the net and soon found my-
eclf suspended more than a hundred feet from the
ground. The reboundings of the net against the
rocks gave me a few shocks, and made me tremble a
little, but at length I gained a footing at the summit,
and was not sorry to do sv. ‘They showed us the
chapel, of which the walls and vaults were painted
and gilt, a commodious cloister, and numerous cells.”
NI. Dupré describes the monks as having pale and
inanimate countenances, and speaking but seldom.

We are not aware whether these monasteries still
exist. During the Greek revolution many of the con-
vents were deserted by their inhabitants, and others
were destroyed by the Turks; and it 1s probable these
may have suffered. The ‘‘ Meteors” took a distinguished
part in the revolution: they carried the Cross into the
midst of battle, and many of them became martyrs to
the cause they advocated.

HORSES IN THE EAST, AND THEIR
TREATMENT.

(Concluded from page 4143.)

Tue Arab horses are mostly small, in height seldom
exceeding fourteen hands; but few are ill-formed, and
they have all certain characteristic beauties which dis-
tinguish their breed from any other. The Arabs count
five noble breeds, descended, as they believe, from the
five favourite mares of Mohammed. But these five prin-
cipal races diverge into infinite ramifications ; for any
mare particularly swift and handsome may give origin
to a new breed, the descendants of which are called
after her. On the birth of a colt of noble brecd it is
usual to assemble some witnesses, and to write an
account of the colt’s distinctive marks, with the name
of its sire and dam. These genealogical tables never
ascend to the grand-dam, because it is presumed that
every Arab of the tribe knows by tradition the purity
of the whole breed. Nor is it always necessary to have
such certificates; for many horses and mares are of
such illustrious descent, that thousands might attest
the purity of their blood. The pedigree is often put
into a small piece of Jeather covered with a waxed
al and hung by a leathern thong around the horse’s
neck. :

The Arabs keep their horses in the open air all the
year round, not (like the Turkmans) tying them up In
the tent, even in the rainy season, Although thus ex-

thrown over the saddle, but in sumer the horse stands
exposed to the mid-day sun. Those Arabs who have
no saddles ride upon a stuited sheep-skin, and without
stirrups: they all ride without bridles, guiding the
horse with a halter. In fact, the extreme good temper
and entire freedom from vice of a horse which is
and whieh fcels itself treated rather asthe friend than
the slave of man, renders a bridle needless. The Arab
is ignorant of the frauds of the European jockey, and,
although in their dealings with strangers they are apt
to play false as to the pedigrec, they may generally be
trusted as to the aitnal qualities of the horse they sell.
Few of them know how to tell the age of a horse by
examining itsteeth. Burckhardt relates that, when he
once looked into the mouth of a mare, it was at first
apprehended by the Arabs present that he was prac-
tising some secret charm ; and when the owner heard
that by such inspection the age of the aniinal might be
ascertained, he seemed astonished, and wished that his
own age should be told by the examination of his
teeth.

The Arabs believe that some horses are predestined
to evil accidents ; and, hke the Osmanlis, they think
that the owners of other horses must sooner or later
experience certain misfortunes, which are indicated by
particular marks on the horses’ bodies. There are
above twenty evil inarks of this kind, which have the
effect of depreciating the value of the horse by two-
thirds or more.

In Syria, as clsewhere in Western Asia, the horses
universally live on barley and chopped straw. They
are regularly fed morning and evening, and for the
most part eat nothing in the interim. Jn the stable
the provender is laid before them in troughs; in the
fields it is put into hair bags, which are fastened in
such a manner to the horse’s head, that he can feed as
he stands. In the spring season the horses are fed for
forty or fifty days with green barley, cut as soon as the
corn begins to ear. This is termed “ tying down to
grass,” during which time the animals remain con-
stantly exposed in the open air, and for the first eight
or ten days are neither curried, mounted, nor even led
about. After this they are dressed as usual, and rode
out gently, but are never much worked in the grass
season. Some feed their horses with the cut-down
corn in their stable-yards; but it is considered better
to tie them down in the barley-field, where they are
confined to a certain circuit by a long tether. This
grazing is considered of great service to the health of
the horses, and gives a beautiful gloss to their skin.
They are at all times littered with the refuse of their
provender, mixed with their own dung dried in
the sun.

The reader will perceive that there is some differ-
ence between this treatment and that which the Arab
horses receive. Some Arabian tribes, indeed, give no
corn at all to their horses, which feed upon the herbs
of the desert, and drink plenty of camel’s milk, and
are besides nourished with a paste made of dates and
water. Even flesh, raw as well as bviled, is given to
the horses in some quarters, together with the fraz-
ments of their owners’ meals. An inhabitant of Hamah
assured Burckhardt that he had often given his horses
roasted meat before the commencement of a fatizuine
journey, that they might be the better able to endure
it; and the same person, fearing lest the governor
should take from him his favourite horse, fed bim tor
a fortnight exclusively upon roasted pork, which so
excited its spirit and mettle, that it became absolutely

1842 ]

unmanageable, and no Jonger an object of desire to the
governor.

Another difference is, that the Arabs never clean or
rub their horses, whereas in Syria the better sort of
horses are dressed every morning.

Burckhardt contradicts the general opinion that
Arabia is very rich in horses. He is confident that he
is not by any means under the true estimate when he
calculates the number of horses in Arabia, as bounded
by Syria and the Euphrates, at fifty thousand—a
number much inferior to what the same extent of
ground would furnish in any other part of Asia or in
Europe.

It has been already stated that the Osmanlis, contra-
rily to the Arabs, prefer horses to mares for riding.
Entire horses are usually preferred ; but persons ad-
vanced in years, especially among the Effendis, like
geldings, which are not uncommon in the towns. The
Syrian horses, 72 common with other domestic animals
of that climate, partake of a certain gentleness of tem-
per, and have such a disposition to become docile and
familiar, that it is very rare indeed to find one coin-
pletely vicious. The Arab horses are remarkably dis-
tinguished for this quality, owing, without doubt, ina
great measure to the kind and humane inanner in
Which they are reared, and ever after treated by their
masters.

MINOR USES OF STEAM.

WHEN we speak—as we often speak, and with justice
—of the gigantic power of steam, we in nearly all
cases imply, if we do not mention, the steam-engine as
the immediate agent. When a mine is drained, a
weight lifted, a ship propelled, a locomotive carriage
moved, thread spun, cloth woven, pins made, &c., by
steam, it is well to bear in mind that the working
azent is in all these cases a complicated series of
whceel-work, and that these wheels are set in motion by
steam. The fly-wheel may be deemed a dividing line,
separating the production of power from the con-
sumpiion. It is nearly always to seta fly-wheel, or
something analogous to it, in motion, that the steam is
emploved; and the power thus accumulated may be
applied in an endless variety of ways.

There are, however, numerous modes in which
steam becomes valuably applicd inthe arts, without
any reference whatever to a steam-engine. The source
of power in a steam-engine is the vast diminution of
bulk which is brought about when steam is converted
into water; but there are other properties in steam
calculated to yield important results, results which we
call “minor” only when compared with the marvellous
effects of the steam-engine.

The warming of buildings is an important cxample
of this kind, and depends on the vast quantity of heat
accumulated ina given weicht of water when in the
state of steam. If we suppose an ounce of water to be
converted into steam, then that steam contains as
much heat as would raise an ounce of water to a
temperature of one thousand degrees, if it were
possible to retain the liquid forin at such a tem-

erature. The whole of this heat belongs to the steam
in its gaseous or aériform state, and is given out on
the instant when the steam is condensed into water.
Hence the efficacy of steam as an agent for heating
buildings; for it can be conveyed from any part of a
building to another part, in close tubes, carrying with
it a reservoir of latent heat which can be liberated by
simply condensing the steam into water. The stcam,
being gencrated in a boiler in any convenient part of
the building, is carried in closed pipes to the apart-
ments to be warmed, which pipes circulate round the

Tk PENNY

MAGAZINE. 4355
apartments, and return again to the boiler. When the
steam comes into contact with the co'd iron pipes,
it becomes condensed, and the latent heat passes into
the iron, and thence into the air of the room; the water
of the condensed steam fluwing down into the boiler,
again to be driven up inthe form of steam; thus
continuing the circuit as long as there is water in the
boiler and fire to heat it. Mr. Russell states that,
from experiments which he has made, he is induced to
conclude that a room containing five hundred cubic feet
of air, and exposing four hundred feet of steain-pipe
surface, may be maintained at a temperature of twenty
degrees above that of the air without—for instance, at
sixty degrees in the inside of the room when the atmo-
sphere is forty degrees without—for a space of twelve
hours, by the evaporation of two gallons of water, and
at the expense of about three pounds of coal. This
would be for a close room, the air being unchanged ;
but after allowing for the ventilation necessary to an
inhabited room, Mr. Russell gives the following as a
sort of standard example: that a room thirty fect long,
twenty feet wide, and ten feet high, in which is a steam-
pipe surface of two thousand two hundred square feet,
may be maintained at a temperature twenty degrees
above that of the external air, for a space of twelve
hours, and with sufficient ventilation for six persons,
by the heat resulting from the steam of fourteen and
a half gallons of water, heated by about eighty pounds
of coal. ;

Many of our large public buildings are thus heated
by steam. For hothouses and grecnhouses the plan
presents many advantages; for the warmth thus
distributed is freed from those risks of injury to the
vitality of the plants which accompany the old method
of warming by hot-air flues, in which a dry con-
taminated air and an unequable temperature are apt
to be produced. The warinth given out by the stcain
is of uniform intensity throughout the whole range of
the hothouse, and one building, however long, may te
warmed by one apparatus — an advantage by which one-
third of the fuelis said to be saved. At the Duke of
Northumberland’s seat at Sion House, nearly one
thousand feet in length of glass-houses are heated by
one boiler. It has been found that, in the palm-house
of the Royal Botanic Garden at Edinburgh, an octa-
ronal structure sixty-feet in diameter and forty feet
high, and presenting five thousand square feet of
glass, the air within is kept at thirty degrees above the
air without, by the heat of steam arising from water
heated by two hundred and fifty pounds of coal in
twenty-four hours.

Warming the water in baths, vats, tuns, and other
vessels, is often very conveniently effected by steam,
where the vessel is so placed as not to be conveniently
heated by a fire beneath. The latent heat of steam is
here shown in a remarkable manner; for if ten
gallons of boiling water be converted into steam, and
the steam be conveyed in a pipe to a bath or other
vessel, it will raise one hundred and sixty-five gallons
of water from 40° to 100°, and a warm-bath may
be thus produced with an expenditure of eighteen
pounds of coal. In many large factories the vessels
fur dyeing, steeping, washing, &c., the materials of
manufacture, are heated in this way; and it is sur-
prising to see how rapidly the heating is effected.
The general way of arranging the apparatus is to pass
the open end of the steam-pipe from the boiler directl
into the water to be heated, so as at once to mix wit
it; the steam itself becomes water and gives its heat
to the water or liquid in the vessel.

Sometimes the liquid in the vessel is not only heated,
but made to boil, by the admission of steam. In many
factorics, such as dye-works, a great number of
vessels are brought tu a boiling state by the action of

456

one steain-pipe, which passes round the room, and is
connected by short pipes with the various vessels. It
often happens, however, that the liquid is of such a
kind as must be kept free from mixing with the con-
densed steam ; and in such a case a coil of steam-pipe
is immersed in the liquid, which is then heated by the
metallic surface just as the air of a steam-heated room.
This is the method employed with so much advantage
in sugar-refineries, where the sugar-pan, in which the
crystallization of the sugar goes on, Instead of being
heated by means of an open fire, as used formerly to
be the case, is heated by means of steam, contained
either in a cavity below the bottom of the pan, or in a
coil of pipe laid in the pan itself. As steam can be

roduced at various temperatures, according to the

eat from which it arises, the pan can be thus heated
to any required point, and =e at that temperature—
an adjustinent which is scarcely possible when the pan
is heated over an open fire. Two important advan-
tages often result in manufactures from this circum-
stance: viz., that thickened liquids, strong solutions,
and any porous solid matter impregnated with fluid,
may be evaporated and wholly separated from the
fluid, without incurring the danger and suffering the
deterioration resulting from direct application of the
fire; and secondly, that liquids may be warmed,
evaporated, and even boiled, in vessels of wood, which
are for some purposes better than those made of
metal.

The process of drying by steam is now very exten-
sively adopted in various branches of manufacture ;
the great advantage being that the temperature can
with so much facility be regulated. A steam-kiln for
drying grain is an example of this kind, and is arranged
in the following manner :—The grain is spread out on
the iron floor of a large room, which is either perfo-
rated with a multitude of small holes, or is formed of
a very fine grating. omer under the floor
steam-pipes of six inches diameter lic parallel to each
other at small intervals apart, and radiate heat directly
to the floor and the grain ; numerous large ventilators
being provided for the escape of the vapour thus im-
pregnated with moisture.

In the paper manufacture, in starching the yarns
preparatory to canvas-weaving, in calico-printing, and
numerous branches of manufacture, steam is employed
to dry the material, which it does with astonishing
efficacy and rapidity. In the modern process of making
paper by machinery, the thin layer of pulp, when
formed, passes over a cylinder heated from within by
means of steam, and becomes by this means dried al-
most instantaneously ; so that the pulp which enters
the machine at one end comes out at the other, after the
interval of a few minutes, in the form of dry paper.
The starched yarns used by the weaver are similarly
drawn over steam-heated cylinders or metallic boxes,
by which the starch is dried the moment after it is laid
on. In most applications of the kind, the mode of
procedure is analogous to that here pointed out, the
wet substance being drawn over the surface of a cylin-
der heated from within by means of steam.

The power of high-pressure steam to extract the ge-
latine from bones, which could not be effected at the
ordinary boiling temperature, has been made thie
means of useful application in France and in this coun-
try, by obtaining nutriment from that which in ordinary
circumstances is thrown away, or at lcast rejected
from the kitchen. Dr. Papin, about a century anda
half ago, was the first to propose this application of
steam; he constructed a machine called a digester,
and wrote an account of it, containing a description of
its uses in “cookery, voyages at sca, confectionary,
making of drinks, chemistry, and dyeing, with an ac-
count of the price a good big engine will cost, and of

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

(NoveMBER 19

the profit it will afford.” The following, from the
index to his book, wil] show how far he proposed to
carry his invention in aid of the culinary art :— How
meat may be kept on the fire three times as long as is
necessary to make it ready, and yet it will not be
spoiled—the same experiment made upon bones—how
td boil mutton—how to boil beef—how to boil lamb—
how to boil rabbits—how to boil pigeons—how to boil
fish—how to boil pulse—how to make jelly, very cheap
—glue for glasses—hartshorn turned lke Parinesan
cheese—a mackerel kept without salf—salt-water as
good for nourishment as fresh-water—to make swect-
meats at a cheap rate and of a new taste—to make two
sorts of drink with the same fruit—to make a new
sort of wine—tinctures drawn in the hundredth part of
the time usually required for them—new ways for dis-
tilling—how to hatch chickens—how to save the la-
bour of grinding cochinelle—to dye with thick
juices—to make horn and tortoiseshell soft fora great
while,” &c.

The principle on which all these marvels were pro-
duced was simply this :— As long as water is heated in
contact with the atmosphere, it cannot become hotter
(in our climate and at the surface of the earth) than
about 212°. But if the water be confined ina very
strong vessel, with no outlet for the steam, both water
and steam will increase in temperature until the ex-
pansive force bursts the vessel, the expansive force in-
creasing very rapidly with the increase of heat. If
substances be immersed in the water or the steam
thus powerfully heated, they may be acted on, especi-
ally if of animal origin, in a manner which ordinary
boiling could never equal.

The modern “ steam-kitchen,” or steam-cooking ap-
paratus, exhibits an application of steam by no means
unworthy of attention. Here a boiler is so placed as
to allow fire conveniently to act upon a vessc] of water,
and convert the water into steam ; while the steam, thus
created, is conveyed to various receptacles placed near
it. A recess or hot-closet, fitted with shelves, is sur-
rounded by a case, and between them steam circulates,
by which the shelves themselves become heated ; while
steamers and warmers, kettles and saucepans, are
brought within reach of the heating agent by pipes
branching ad libttum from the boiler.

It would not be difficult to collect numerous other
examples in which steam, chiefly by its heating power,
is brought into valuable requisition—quite irrespective
of that vast power which it exerts asa moving-force for
machinery.

Tapoca.—Starch is often combined with poisonous sub-
stances; and many anxious mothers will be surprised to hear
that the mild, bland, demulcent tapioca is obtained from the
root of the jatropha manihot, a pa indigenous to the Brazils,
Guiana, and the West India Islands, which is one of the most
active poisons known, causing death in a few minutes after it has
been swallowed. The roots of this plant, which contain a great
quantity of sap, are peeled and subjected to pressure in bags
made of rushes. The juice thus forced out is so deadly a poison,
that it is employed by the Indians as a poison for their arrows.
On being alowed to stand, however, it soon deposits a white
starch, which, when properly washed, is quite innocent. This
starch is then dried in smoke, and afterwards passed through a
sieve; and is the substance from which tapioca and the cassava
bread of the Indians is prepared. The discovery of the process
for separating this powder from the jatropha manihot has been of
the greatest importance to the human race, since it enables us to
obtain a most valuable article of food from a plant that is of a
highly poisonous nature, but which contains an enormous quan-
tity of nutritious matter; for it is asserted that one acre of mani-
hot will afford nourishment for more persons than six acres of

wheat.—Dr. Truman on Food. ,

1842. |

[Froissart readigg to the Count of Foix after supper.]

FROISSART AND HIS CHRONICLE.!§-

No. X.
FROISSART AT THE COURT OF GASTON DE FOIX.

THE historian arrived at Orthes in the autumn of 1388,
and was well received by the count, who, as soon as
he saw him, bade him be of good cheer, and, smiling,
told him he knew him well, though he had never seen
him before—alluding, of course, to his writings. And
so he retained him in his household, as Froissart had
hoped he would; and for the twelve weeks the latter
stayed at Orthes, he had evidently a very pleasant time
of it. Not only did he obtain more historical matter
than he had even expected, but a world of information
besides, illustrative of the acts, feelings, and supersti-
tions of the chivalry he so loved, and which are among
not the least interesting part of Froissart’s book. Here

No. 685.

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| the treaty of ies

457

he is told of the death of Sir Peter Ernaut, a knight o!
Gaston de Foix’s blood and country, who was killed
by Gaston because he would not deliver up to hima
castle intrusted to him by the English; of the strange
malady which seized Sir Peter of Béarn, through a
struggle with a bear, who was always getting up in
the night to arm himself, and in that state and fast
asleep wandering about the house seeking something
or somebody to fight; and many other strange and
wonderful relations, in some of which Froissart shows
that he’ partook of the general credulity of the age.
Whilst he was at Orthes two events also occurred,—
of Berry to Count

the sal
OGRIGT—3 N

Digitized by

438

de Foix’s cousin and ward, the daughter of the Count
of Boulogne, in whose train Froissart departed from
Orthes; and the meeting of Count ce Foix and his
suzerain (for a portion of his lands), Charles VI. of
France. But the most valuable passages of this visit
are perhaps those relating to the count himself. In
Froissart’s account of Gaston de Foix we have by far
the most perfect picture of a wealthy and noble knight
of the middle ages that can be found in any ancient
writings. It is at once minute and picturesque, equally
admirable as the picture of an individual and of a
class. Gaston it appears, among his other accomplish-
ments, included a Jove of literature, to which circum-
stance Froissart attributes his own honourable recep-
tion. ‘ The acquaintance of him and of me was be-
cause I had brought with me a book, which I made at
the contemplation of Winceslaus of Bohemia, Duke of
Luxembourg and of Brabant, which book was called
Meliador,’ containing all the songs, ballads, rondeaux,
and virelays, which the gentle duke had made in his
time, which by imagination I had gathered together ;
which book the Count of Foix was glad to see. And
every night after supper I read therein to him; and
while I read there was none durst speak any word,
because he would I should be well understood, wherein
he took great solace. And when it came to any matter
of question, then he would speak to me, not in Gascon,
but in good and fair French. And of his estate and
house | shal] somewhat record, for I tarried there so
long that J might well perceive and know much.
“This Earl Gaston of Foix with whom I was, at
that time he was of a fifty years of age and nine ; and
I say I have in my time seen many knights, kings,
princes, and others, but I never saw none like him of
personage, nor of so fair form, nor so well made; his
visage fair, sanguine, and smiling; his eyes grey and
amorous, whereas he list to set his regard. In every-
thing he was so perfect, that he cannot be praised too
much; he loved that ought to be loved, and hated that
ought to be hated. He was a wise knight, of high en-
terprise, and of good counsel ; he never had miscreant
with him ; he said many orisons every day, a nocturn
(night-prayer) of the Psalter, matins of our Lady, of
the Holy Ghost, and of the cross, and dirge every day.
He gave five florins in small pansy at his gate to poor
folks for the love of God. He was large and courteous
in gifts. He could right well take where it pertained
to him, and to deliver again whereas he ought. He
Joved hounds, of all beasts, winter and summer. He
loved hunting. He never loved folly, outrage, nor
foolish largess; every month he would know what he
spended. He took in his country to receive his reve-
nues and to serve him notable persons; that is to say,
twelve receivers, and ever from two months to two
months two of them should serve for his receipt; for
at the two months’ end he would change and put other
two into that office, and one that he trusted best should
be his comptroller, and to him all other should account,
and the comptroller should account to him by rolls and
books written, and the accounts to remain still with
the earl. He had certain coffers in his chamber, out
of the which ofttimes he would take money to give to
lords, knights, and squires, such as come to him; for
none should depart from him without some gift; and
yet daily multiplied his treasure to resist the adven-
tures and fortunes that he doubted. He was of good
and easy acquaintance with every man, and amorously
would speak to them. He was short in counsels and
answers. He had four secretaries, and at his rising
they must ever be ready at his hand without any call-
ing; and when any letter were delivered him, and
that he had read it, then would he call thern to write
again, or else for some other thing. In this estate the
Earl of Foix lived. And at midnight, when he came

THE PENNY MAGAZINE

[NovEMBER 26,

out of his chamber into the hall to supper, he had ever
before him twelve torches burning, borne by twelve
varlets, standing before his table al] supper: they
gave a great light, and the hall [was] ever full of
knights and squires, and many other tables [were]
dressed to sup who would. There was none should
speak to him at his table, but if he were called. His
meat was lightly, wild fowl, the legs and wings only;
and in the day he did but little eat and drink. He had
great pleasure in harmony of instruments; he could
do it right well himself: he would have songs sung
before him. He would gladly see conceits and fanta-
sies at his table; and when he had seen it, then he
would send it to the other tables bravely: al] this I
considered and advised.” Froissart says, briefly, ‘‘ he
loved hunting ;” but we must add that the count's love
was positively a passion. One author says he had no
fewer than sixteen hundred dogs; and we know that
he was the author of a book on hunting which went
through several editions in the early days of the press.
It was on his return from a bear chase in 1391 that he
died of apopexy: whilst his attendants were pouring
water in his hands.

Among the remarkable storics which Froissart was
told at the castle of Orthes during this memorable
visit was one of a highly imaginative character, which
illustrates a noticeable trait of the time, its supersti-
tious credulity. The Count of Foix was a politic
prince as well as a brave and accomplished knight, and
with admirable skill maintained his rights and influence
amidst difficult circumstances. His neighbours on all
sides—France, Spain, the Low Countries, all were ina
continual state of warfare, either in their own respective
dominions, or with each other, or with England; and it
required quite as much intellectual as physical power to
remain safe amidst all their marches and counter-
marches, their treaties and their alliances, their quarrels
and their wars. He was in the habit it seems of re-
ceiving constantly from all parts, by paid messengers,
intelligence of wbaiovet was stirring in the political
world, and the excellence of his arrangements in this
matter produced such marvellous results to those who
were ignorant of the means, that magic as usual was
called in to explain the mystery: and we learn from
Froissart’s relation that his own houschold participated
in the belief of the truth of the explanation. The his-
torian, one day being witncss to some marvellous exhi-
bition of knowledge thus acquired, was very earnest
with one of the count’s squires to state his opinion
about it; and, on a promise of secrecy whilst remaining
in the country, was successful. The squire drew him
apart into a corner of the chapel at Orthes, and there
told him the following story :—

The lord of Corasse in that country had some twenty
years before had a quarrel with a clerk-curate on ac-
count of the tithes of the town of Corasse, to which each
laid claim. The Pope’s judgment was sought, anda
decision obtained in favour of the curate; but the lord
of Corasse told the latter, notwithstanding, that if he
meddled with the property in question it should cost
him his life. Deterred by his threats, the curate
left the country, warning the lord at the same
time that he would send him achampion whom he
should fear. About “three months after, as the
knight lay on a night-bed in his castle of Corasse, with
the lady his wife, there came to him messengers invi-
sible, and made a marvellous tempest and noise in the
castle ;” and the next morning the servants came to
him full of alarm at what they had heard. “The next
night there was a great noise and greater, and such
strokes given at his chamber door and windows, as all
should have been broken in pieces.” In answer to the
knight's queries, he learns that the terrible visitor is
Orthon, a spirit sent by the curate to trouble him till

1842.) THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 459

he has made restitution. The knight speaks kindly to
the spirit, and prays him to leave the clerk, and come
and serve him; and the spirit, “a love with the
knight,” agrees; and thenceforth “the lord of Corasse
knew by Orthon everything that was done in any part
of the world ;” and as he was accustomed to impart to
the Count of Foix whatever news Orthon had brought
him, the count soon perceived that no ordinary agen-
cies were at work; and, on examining his informant
“‘straightly,” was told the truth. Gaston’s curiosity
being roused, he asked the lord of Corasse if he had
ever seen his messenger: ‘“ Nay, surely, sir,” quoth
the knight, “nor I never desired it.” The count, how-
ever, induced him to promise to make an attempt to
see what “form and fashion” it was of. “And so on
a night, as he lay in his bed with the lady his wife, who
was so inured to hear Orthon that she was no more
afraid of him, then came Orthon and pulled the lord by
the ear, who was fast asleep, and therewith he awoke,
and asked who was there? ‘Zam here, quoth Orthon.
Then he demanded, ‘ From whence comest thou now ?”

‘I come,’ quoth Orthon, ‘from Prague, in Bohemia.’

How far is that hence” quoth the knight.

‘A threcscore days’ journey.’

‘ And art thou come thence so soon °”

‘Yea, truly,’ quoth Orthon, ‘I come as fast as the
wind, or faster.

‘Hast thou then wings?’ quoth the knight.

‘ Nay, truly.’

‘How canst thou then fly so fast ?”

‘Ye have nothing to do to know that,’ quoth Orthon.

‘No,’ quoth the knight; ‘I would gladly sce thee, to
know what form thou art of.’

‘Well,’ quoth Orthon, ‘ye have nothing to do to
know; it sufficeth you to hear me, and I to show you
tidings.’

‘In faith,’ quoth the knight, ‘1 would love thee
much better an I might see thee once.’

‘ Well, sir,’ quoth Orthon, ‘since ye have so great
desire to see me, the first thing that ye see to-
morrow when ye arise out of your bed, the same
shall be I.’” Inthe morning the knight “ arose fair
and easily out of bis bed, and sat down on his bed-side,
weening to have seen Orthon in his own proper form ;
but he saw nothing whereby he might say,—‘ Lo!
yonder is Orthon!’ So that day passed and the next
night came; and when the knight was in his bed,
Orthon came and began to speak, as it was accustomed.
‘Go thy way,’ quoth the knight, ‘ thou art but a liar.
Thou promisedst that I should have seen thee, and it
Was not s0.’

‘No? quothhe; ‘ and I showed myself to thee.’

‘That is not so,’ quoth the lord.

‘Why,’ quoth Orthon,‘ when you rose out of your
bed, saw you nothing?’ Then the lord studicd a little,
and advised himselt well. ‘ Yes, truly,’ quoth the
knight; ‘now I remember me, as I sat on my bed’s
side, thinking on thee, [I saw two straws on the pave-
ment, tumbling one upon the other.’

‘That same was I,’ quoth Orthon, ‘ into that form
did I put myself as then.’

‘ That is not enough to me,’ quoth the lord: ‘I pray
thee put thyself into some other form, that I may
better see and know thee.’

‘Well,’ quoth Orthon, ‘ ye will do so much that ye
will love me, and I go from you, for you desire too
much of me.’

‘ Nay,’ quoth the knight, ‘thou: shalt not go from
me; let me see thee once, and I will desire no more.’

‘ Well,’ quoth Orthon, ‘ ye shall see me to-morrow;
take heed, the first thing that ye see after ye be out of
your chamber, it shall be I.’

‘ Well,’ quoth the knight, ‘I am then content; go
thy way, let me sleep. And so Orthon departed.

And the next morning the lord arose, and issued out
of his chamber, and went to a window and looked
down into the court of the castle, and cast about his
eyes, And the first thing he saw was a sow, the
greatest that ever he saw; and she scemed to be so
lean and evil-favoured that there was nothing on her
but the skin and the bones, with long ears, and a long
Jean snout. The lord of Corasse had marvel of that
lean sow, and was weary of the sight of her, and com-
manded his men to fetch his hounds, and said, ‘ Let the
dogs hunt her to death and devour her.’ His servants
opened the kennels and let out his hounds, and did set
them on this sow. And at the last the sow madea
great cry, and looked up to the lord of Corasse as he
looked out at a window, and so suddenly vanished away,
no man wist how. Then the lord of Corasse entered
into his chamber right pensive, and then he remembered
him of Orthon his messenger, and said, ‘I repent me
that I set my hounds on him; it is an adventure an I
ever hear any more of him; for he said to me often-
times that if I displeased him I should lose him.” he
lord said truth, for never after he came into the castle
of Corasse ; and also the knight died the same year
next following.”

“ Is the Earl of Foix served with such a messenger ?”
asks Froissart at the conclusion of the tale. ‘ Surely,”
quoth the squire, “ it is the imagination of many,”

On Pruning Trees.—Mr. Thomas Baylis, who is well ac-
quainted with the nature of trees, and by whom my attention
was first directed to the baneful effects of pruning, planted a bed
of about five hundred pear-trees, at Ledbury, in the county of
Hereford. Sixty of these trees were left entirely unpruned; all
the others were pruned, with naked stems, as trees generally are
in nurseries, The sixty unpruned trees had no advantage in soil
or situation; yet on an average their growth in a few years was
at least three times greater than that of the pruned trees. The
unpruned trees were much better formed for transplanting into
orchards than the pruned ones; their stems were furnished with
strong thorny branches: these branches, in addition to the other
good offices they had performed and were performing to enaole
the tree to outgrow the pruned ones so far, made excellent naru-
ral fences for each agaiust injury from cattle. It is not my in-
tention to enter into an argument about the management of fruit-
trees; this experiment with the pear-trees is only mentioned to
show that the opinion that pruning decreases the quantity of
growth has been confirmed by experiment; but I canuot refrain
from stating my regret at the present deplorable state of the
orcharding in this county. The great ignorance of the nature of
trees displayed in the management of apple and pear trees almost
dismays me in the attempt to point out the errors that are fallen
into by the cultivators of timber-trees. The apple and pear trees
in this county are generally rendered fruitless at an early age
through ill treatment. The apple-tree in particular dies over-
powered by the numerous injuries inflicted on it by its misjudg-
ing and officious cultivators. Ata time of life when it should
be in its greatest prosperity, it is falling to pieces with premature
old age; its limbs are, one after the other, blown from its rotten
trunk ; and it may truly be said that the apple-tree seldom dies a
natural death, its death being generally occasioned by an accumu-
lation of injuries. Whenever a tree has a live spray cut from it, an
injury is inflicted on that tree that never can be entirely repaired.
Every wound received is stored up; and if wounds be continu-
ally added, they will accumulate to a degree too great to be
borne, and the tree will sink under its infirmities.— Treatise on
the Nature of Trees, &c., by Stephen Ballurd.—[We give this ex-
tract as stating a fact, in exemplification of a theory supported
by the author as to the prejudicial effects of pruning, without at
all adopting that theory. The subject is certainly interesting,
for there is no doubt that pruned apple and pear trees are con-
stantly subject to early disease and premature decay, while the
untrimmed crab remains healthy and grows old. Pruning will
probably be found to be more applicable to certain kiuds of
trees and to certain situations than to others, and will require
much observation and recorded experience to reduce it to a sys-
tem. The view here taken, though not common, is by no means
singular, but is supported by sone good authorities. The sul
ject certainly deserves attention. |

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THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

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| West Front of Cologne Cathedral, as it is intended to be completed.)

COLOGNE CATHEDRAL.
(Continued from page 445.)
Tue Cathedral is itself so magnificent and on so large
a scale, being four hundred feet long and one hundred
and sixty-one broad, that, when contemplating its
grandeur as a work of art, we almost forget the
shrines and relics which it contains, though some of
the former are curious and interesting. The shrine
of the Three Kings of Cologne is in a small marble
chapel, in the Jonic style, behind the high altar. These
kings, as tradition reports, were the Magi who came
from the East to bring presents to the infant Saviour.
The emperor Frederic Barbarossa brought their bones
{rom Milan after taking that city by storm in 1170.
They are placed in a case of solid silver. The skulls,
which are the only parts that remain, were once
crowned with golden diadems enriched with jewels.
Each skull is inscribed with a name written in rubies,
—Gaspar, Melchior, and Balthazar. The shrine of the
‘“ Three Kings of Cologne ” was once the most famous
in Christendom, and was profusely adorned with pre-
cious stones. Jn 1794 these relics were carried off by
the chapter to Arenberg, in Westphalia, to prevent
their seizure by the French. They were brought back
in 1804, but in the mean time some of the precious

stones were taken away: imitations in paste or glass
have been substituted, and the crowns of the Three
Kings are now of silver gilt. There still remains a dis-
play of stones, gems, cameos, and enamel-work suffi-
cient to show the former richness of the shrine.
Amongst the other objects of interest in the cathedral
are the silver coffin of St. Engelbert and some fine
monuments, several splendid painted windows, a beau-
tiful altar-table, rich candelabra, curious tapestry, and
a singular painting, with the date of 1410, represent-
ing the Patron Saints of Cologne. The sacristans
profess to show one of the bones of St. Matthew. But
to return to the edifice itself.

Vogt, an accurate writer on Rhenish history, gives
the following account of the original design :—" It
was (he says) designed to form a Latin cross, the
length of which, from east to west, should be four
hundred feet, and the width two hundred fect.
Over the intersection of the arms of this cross it was
contemplated to erect a cupola of the largest possible
size. At the western extremity there were to have
been two enormous towers, each of five stories high ;
the several stories to be supported upon curious pillars,
and the towers to be surmounted with pointed spires .
of finely carved fret-work. The lower story of each

Digitized by Google

I542. ] THE PENNY
hall was designed to form an ante-hall or porch to the
two main entrances of the church. At the lateral ex-
tremities of the cross, in the northern and southern
sides of the building, there were to be also two grand
entrances. Jour hundred and sixty pondcrous pillars,
ranged in double rows from east to west, were destined
to support the immense roof; and an equal number of
pilasters, to correspond with them, were to be inserted
in the side-walls of this transcendant edifice. Each
pillar was to be of a different design from its fellow,
and no one of the pilasters was to be of the same form
as the other.” The projector of the noble structure
was Eneclbert the Holy. He was Archbishop of Co-
logne, and Count of Berg in his own right, in 1220.
The edifice was commenced in 1248. It is singular
that the name of the architect is altogether unknuown,*
and fanciful legends have been related to account for
this unusual circumstance: they may be seen in Mr.
Snowe's ‘ Legends of the Rhine.

Merian, the old local histcrian of Cologne and its
sister Roman colonies, mentions the plan adopted for
the completion of the building :—*“ It was made a
custom of the state that every new archbishop should
add a portion of the original design to that which had
already been erected before him; to the end that, in
the course of years, the whole edifice might be com-
pleted: and this good custom was long complied with.
But in the end it fell into disuse, owing to the local
troubles which first broke out between the archbishops
and the citizens, and then to the troubles which
affected Germany in general up to the period of the
Reformation. Thus this noble monument of religion
and of ari still remains in an unfinished condition.”
Schreiber, describing its recent state, says,—“ The two
towers, which were intended to be five hundred feet
high, remain unfinished ; the northern one is not more
than twenty-one feet above the ground, and the other
is little more than half the intended height. Only the
choir of the church and the chapels surrounding it
have been finished. The columns in the nave of the
church terminate at a ceiling composed of simple
planks covered with slates.” That competent critic,
the late Mr. Hope, author of the ‘ Ifistory of Architec-
ture,’ speaking of the unfinished choir, which is one
hundred and eighty feet high, says it resembles a
splendid vision, “ from its size, height, and disposition
of the pillars, arches, and beautifully coloured win-
dows.” The external parts did not Jess excite his
admiration. “The double range of stupendous
flying buttresses, and of intervening piers, bristling
with a forest of purfled [ornamented] pinnacles, strike
the beholder with awe and astonishment.” He adds
that this edifice, “if completed, would have been at
once the most recular and most stupendous Gothic

monument existing :” or, as the author of one of Mr.
~ Murray’s excellent Hand-books for Tourists says, “ the
St. Peter’s of Gothic architecture.”

Many princes have sought at various periods to
complete the building of the cathedral, but the work
was too great for the times in which they lived, and
sul] it remained ina condition Letween a fragment
and a ruin, baffling the desires of those who wished to
see the last stone finished of so grand a monument of
man’s intellect and industry. Fur many years the late

* In the * Art-Union’ for November it is stated that the
honour of giving birth to the architect of the cathedral belongs
to Belgium; a charter having been discovered, dated 1257,
showing that the monks of Cologne, in consideration of the ser-
vices performed by Master Gerard, of St. Trond (* Gerardus de
Sancto Trudone ’), who directed the construction of their zathe-
dral, bad assigned to himn a certain estate of land. We ilo not
know what credit is due to this statement; but in the Valhalla,
just opened by the king of Bavaria, there isa monument to the
unknown architect of Cologne Cathedral.

MAGAZINE. 461
King of Prussia advanced large sums towards the
repair and maintenance of the choir. To his son, the
present king, has devolved the more gratifying duty
of commencing in earnest the completion of the entire
design. The first stone of the new works for finishing
the structure was laid by him with much ceremony on
the 4th of September, 1842. All Germany has taken
an interest equally enlightened in this great object.
The King of Prussia has pledged himself to UPD a
large annual sum for this purpose; other princes have
followed his example; and private subscriptions have
been raised to aid the undertaking, not only in Ger-
many, but in other parts of the Continent. The archi-
tect, M. Zwirner, calculates that a sum equal to
720,000/. will be required, and that the work will
occupy about thirty years. Let us hope that no new
outburst either of civil faction or foreign hostility will
once more cause the builders to suspend their Jabours.

*At the moment when the King of Prussia took the
mallet in his hand, the ancient crane on the top of the
south tower was once again sven in motion, slowly
raising a ponderous stune, while a thousand acclaiming
voices hailed with enthusiasm this interesting event.

His majesty’s speech on the occasion, omitting a
brief introduction, was as follows:—“ Gentlemen of
Cologne, a great event is about to take place among
you. Your feelings will tell you that it is no coin-
mon edifice you are about to erect. It is the offspring
of the spirit of union and concord among Germans of
every creed. When 1 reflect on this, my eyes are
filled with joyful tears; and I thank God that I have
lived to witness this day. Here, where this foundation-
stone is laid, rearing their heads with yonder towers,
will arise the noblest portals in the whole world. Ger-
many builds them: may they, by the grace of God, be
to her the entrance gates to a new, a great, and a
happy future! Far from them be all that is antt-
German—that 1s to say, all that is base, false, and in-
sincere. May this portal of honour never be disgraced
by bad faith, or by the unworthy disunion of German
princes or of the German people. May the spirit
which would disturb the peace of creeds, or impede
the progress of social order—that spirit which once
interrupted the building of this house of God, and in-
jured the well-being of our common fatherland—find
no entrance here. The feeling that has prompted the
building of these portals is the same that twenty-nine
years ago made us break our chains, and banish insult
from our native land and division from its shores; it
is the same spirit which, fortified by the blessing of my
departed father (the last of the three great monarchs),
two years ago, displayed itself with a vigour undimi-
nished in strength and unimpaired by time; is is the
spirit of German union and of German power; and
oh! may the portals of Cologne cathedral be its most
glorious triumph! May the spirit which has given
birth to this great work serve to complete it: and may
it prove to remote generations that Germany is great
and mighty by the union of her rulers and her people,
and that she has without bloodshed consolidated the
eae of the world! May it attest that Prussia is
lappy in the glory and prosperity of her own fathe~-
land, and in the fraternization of her different religious
creeds, all one and alike in the eyes of the Divine.
Creator. I pray to God that the cathedral of Cologne
may continue to tower above this town and all Ger-
inany, and that it may be « witness of oe and hap-
piness among mankind until time shall be no more.
Gentlemen of Cologne, your city has by this structure
obtained a high pre-eminence over all the other towns
of Germany : she has this day proved herself worthy of
that pre-eminence. Join then with me as J strike the
trowel on the foundation-stone: shout with me your
rallying-cry of ten centuries—‘ Aluaf Cologne I?”

402 THE PENNY

TIM E.
fAbridged from the ‘ Penny Cyclopxdia.’]

Tus word may be considered either with reference to
our abstract idea of the thing signified by it, or to the
ineasures of it which have been contrived for use in
the business of life.

When we think of time in the usual manner, it is of
a real thing external to ourselves which we cannot
help imagining to have an existence and a measure,
both of which would remain, though those who now
speculate upon the conception were annihilated. A
little more consideration shows that we are indebted
for the idea to successions of observed events, or at
least for the power of applying the idea to externa]
objects. No description can be adequate ; if we say
that change necessarily implies time, and that the per-
ception of that which 7s, being different from that which
was, suggests the notion of an interval, we see that we
have already fully assumed the idea of time in the
words is and was. But we may say that space and the
objects which fill it exist independently of ourselves,
and would undergo changes though we were not in
existence to perceive them, and that therefore the
times which those changes require would also exist ;
this involves the whole of the most abstruse part of
metaphysics, and is much beyond the scope of our
article. We shall therefore turn to the mode of mea-
suring time; we have a thorough conviction that time
is a magnitude, that is, has its more and less. We
must ask ourselves in the first instance what we mean
by a greater or a smaller time.

In the perception of time as a magnitude, that is, of
intervals of time as containing more or less of dura-
tion, we refer in the first instance to a habit derived
from continual acquaintance with those great natural
successions on which the usual actions of our lives
depend, with which we can constantly, though uncon-
sciously, compare the duration of our thoughts and
actions. There is no more an absolutely long or short
time than there is an absolutely great or little space ;
these words are only comparative. If, for example,
any one were to affirm that the universe was continu-
ally growing less and less, all its parts altering in the
sime proportion, and the dimensions of the human
race with the rest, in such manner that the whole
solar system would now go into a nut-shell, such as
nut-shells were a thousand years ago, it would be im-
possible either for him to prove it, if true, or for any
one else to prove the contradiction, if false. In like
manncr, if any one were to say that the revolutions of
all the heavenly bodies were continually accelerating,
but that the properties of matter were also continually
altering, and the speed with which ideas are formed
and communicated, and muscular efforts made, conti-
nually increasing, it would be impossible to prove a
contradiction. The oriental story is the best illustrar
tion of this:—A prince was ridiculing the legend of
Mohammed being taken up by an angel, and holding
many long conferences with his Creator, and having
many views of heaven and hell] to the smallest details,
in so short a me, speaking with reference to things
upon earth, that, on Hig being brought back, the water
had not quite flowed out of a jug which he had dropped
from his hand when the angel caught him. A magi-
cian at the court of this prince checked his laughter
by offering to prove the possibility of the story, if his
highness would only dip his head into a basin of water.
‘The prince consented, and, the instant his head was
immersed, found himself lying by the sea-shore in a
strange country. After a reasonable quantity of male-
diction upon the magician, he found himself obliged
by hunyer to gu to a neighbouring town, and scek the
means of support. In time he became independent,

MAGAZINE. [NoveMBeER 26,
married, and brought up a family, but was gradually
stripped of all his substance by losses, and buried his
wife and children. One day he threw himself into the
sea to bathe, and on lifting his head out of the water,
found that he had only lifted it out of the basin, the
magician and the other courtiers standing round. On
his bitterly reproaching the magician, the latter assured
him, and was confirmed by ail the bystanders, that he
had done nothing but just dip his head into the basin,
and Jift it out again. Of course the prince expressed
no-more doubts about the story of Mohammed; and
however much any reader of the two tales may think
that neither zs true, a little reflection will show that
either might be so. Perhaps the allegory might have
been suggested by what is known to take place in
dreams; there is evidence enough that many of the
longest of these illusions really occupy no more than,
if so much as, a second or two by the pendulum.

The actual measure of time depends upon our being
able to secure successions of similar events which shal]
furnish epochs separated by equa] intervals of time.
We cannot do this by our thoughts, except approxi-
mately, and for short periods. The memory of a musi-
cian, aided by the sentiment or feeling of time which
is part of a good ear for music, will do remarkably
well for a short period: a person who could not well

reserve the division of a second into eight parts at
east would make a poor figure in an orchestra. As
to the judgment of considerable periods of time, it is
materially influenced by the manner in which it has
been spent: a time which seems to have been lone
through weariness has been long, and the contrary, on
grounds already alluded to. Thus a year of mature
age is really, to the thoughts, of a different length from
one of childhood. Again, when we talk of a long
period of time having passed quickly or slowly, we
speak not of the time, but of our mode of remembering
it. A person of rapid recapitulation always says that
time has passed quickly, another of a contrary habit
the contrary; and this whether the rapidity is a consc-
quence of quickness of ideas, or of having litile to
recall.
_ Inall the more correct machines which have been
invented to measure time, there is but one principle :
a vibration is kept up by the constant application of
forces only just sufficient to counteract friction and
other resistances, and machinery is applied to register
the number of vibrations. But the imperfections of
such instruments, or rather our ignorance of the pre-
cise action of disturbing causes, and particularly of
changes of temperature, renders them comparatively
useless for measuring long periods, so that, if we could
not have recourse to the motion of the heavenly bodies,
there would be no permanent ineasure of time. -And
even in astronomical phenomena there is no absolute
recurrence at equal intervals, though nearly enough
for common purposes. The value of such phenomena
for the most accurate measures consists in most of
their irregularitics being truly distributed about a
uniform mean, so that the excesses of some periods are
compensated by the defects of others, giving, in the
long run, power of determining that mean with as
much accuracy as our modes of measurement can
appreciate. The determination of time for civil reck-
oning may be divided into two parts: first, the mode
of making the different periods derived from the sun
and moon agree with cach other so as to afford an easy
method of reckoning co-ordinately by both; secondly,
the mode of procuring true and convenient subdivisions
of the natural unit consisting of a day and night. To
the second of these we now turn our attention.

The actual revolution of the earth, as measured by
the time elapsed between two transits of the same star
over the meridian, is called a sédercal day. It is

1842.]

divided. as are all other days, into twenty-four hours of
sixty minutes each, &c. The time so given is called
sidereal time. Ifthe sun were a fixed star, this side-
real time would be the common mode of reckoning.
But the sun having its own slow motion in the ecliptic,
in the same direction as the revolution of the earth,
the interval between one meridian transit of that body
and the next is longer than the simple revolution of
the earth, for just the same reason that the time which
the minute-hand of a watch moves from coincidence
with the hour-hand to coincidence again is longer than
the hour, or simple revolution of the minute-hand. If
the sun moved uniformly, and in the equator, the real
solar day, which means the interval between two meri-
dian transits of the sun, would always be of the same
Jength, and a little longer than the sidereal day. But
the sun neither docs move uniformly nor in the equa-
tor; and each of these circumstances causes a slight
irregularity in the absolute length of the solar day, or,
as itis called, the real solar day. This is the reason
why the time shown by a sundial does not agree with
the watch. To remedy this inconvenience, a fictitious
sun is supposed to move in the ecliptic, and uniformly,
while another fictitious sun moves in the equator, also
uniformly. Both the fictitious bodies have the average
motion of the real sun, so that the years of the three
are the same ; and the fictitious sun of the ecliptic is
made to coincide with the real sun at the perigee and
apogce, or nearest and farthest points from the earth;
while the fictitious body in the equator is made to coin-
cide with the fictitious body of the ecliptic at the equi-
noxes (from which it arises that there is also a coin-
cidence at the solstices). This fictitious sun of the
equator is that to which clocks are adjusted; the
interval between two of its transits, which is always of
the same length, is called a mean solar day, which is
divided into twenty-four mean solar hours, &c. The
difference between time as shown by the real sun and
the fictitious sun in the equator is called the equation
of time.
The determination of the equation of time is a ma-
thematical problem of some complexity: what wwe
have here to notice is, that, owing to the joint action of
the two sources of difference, it presents a very irre-
gular series of phenomena in the course of the year.
If the sun moved regularly, but in the ecliptic, there
would be no equation of time at the equinoxes and
solstices: if the sun moved with its elliptic irregu-
Jarity, but.in the equator instead of the ecliptic, there
would be no equation of time at the apogee and
perigee. Between the two the equation of time
vanishes only when the effect of one cause of irregu-
larity is equal and opposite to that of the other; and
this takes*place four times a year. In this present
ear (1842) the state of the equation of time is as fol-
ows :—January 1, the clock is before the sundial
3m 51s, and continues to gain upon the dial until Fe-
bruary 11, when there is 14™ 33 of difference. This
then begins to diminish, and continues diminishing
until April 15, when the two agree, and there is no
equation. The dial then is before the clock until
May 14, when the equation is 3™ 55s, which diminishes
until June 15, when there is again no equation. The
clock is now before the dial, and the equation increases
till July 26, when the equation is 6™ 108, which dimi-
nishes until the Ist of September, when there is no
equation, for the third time. The dial is now again
before the clock; and by November 2 the equation has
become 16™ 18s, from which time it falls off until De-
ceinber 24, when it is nothing, for the fourth and last
time. The clock then gets gradually before the dial
till the end of the year. The phenomena of the next
year present a repetition of the same circumstances,
with some trivial variations of magnitude. There are

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

163

several slight disturbing causes to which we have not
thought it worth while to advert in a popular explana-
tion: in particular, the slow motion of the solar perigee,
which will in time wholly alter the phenomena. For
instance, when the perigee comes to coincide with the
equinox, there will be only two periods at which the
equation of time vanishes, namely, when the sun is at
either equinox.

The sidereal day is 234 56™ 4s.09 of a mean solar
day, and the mean solar day is 24h 3™ 568.55 of a side-
real day.

ECONOMY OF SUPPLIES OF WATER BY
MACHINERY AND HAND-CARRIAGE
COMPARED.

[From Mr. Chadwick’s Sanitary Report.)

Suppiies of water obtained from wells by the Jabour
of fetching and carrying it in buckets or vessels do not
answer the purpose of regular supplics of water
brought into the house without such labour, and kept
ready in cisterns for the various purposes of cleanli-
ness. The interposition of the labour of going out
and bringing home water from a distance acts as an
obstacle to the formation of better habits; and I deem
it an important principle to be borne in mind, that, in
the actual condition of the lower classes, conveniences
of this description must preere and form the habits.
Tt isin vain to expect of the great majority of them
that the disposition, sti]l less the habits, will precede or
anticipate and create the conveniences. Even with
persons of a higher condition, the habits are greatly
dependent on the conveniences, and it is observed that,
when the supplies of water into the houses of persons of
the middle class are cut off by the pipes being frozen,
and when it is necessary to send for water to a distance,
the house-cleansings and washings are diminished by the
inconveniencc; and every presumption is afforded that,
if it were at all times requisite for them to send toa
distance for water, and in all weathers, their habits of
houschold cleanliness would be deteriorated. In Paris
and other towns where the middle classes have not the .
advantage of supplies of water brought into the houses,
the gencral habits of household and personal cleanli-
ness are inferior to those of the inhabitants of towns
who do enjoy the advantage. The whole family of the
labouring man in the manufacturing towns rise early,
before daylight in winter-time, to go to their work;
they toil hard, and they return to their homes late at
night. It is aserious inconvenience, as well as discom-
fort, to them, to have to fetch water at a distance out of
doors from the pump or the river on every occasion
that it may be wanted, whether it may be in cold, in
rain, or in snow. The minor comforts of cleanliness
are of course foregone, to avoid the immediate and
greater discomforts of having to fetch the water. In
general it has appeared in the course of the present in-
quiry that the state of the conveniences gives, at the
same time, a very fair indication of the state of the
habits of the population in respect to household and
even personal cleanliness. The Rev. Whitwell Elwin,
the chaplain of the Bath union, gives the following il-
lustration of the habits of many of the working popu-
lation even in that city, which is well supplied with
water :—‘‘ A man had to fetch water from one of the
papas pumps in Bath, the distance from his house
eing about a quarter of a mile.—‘ It is as valuable,’ he
said, ‘as strong beer. Wecan't use it for cooking, or
anything of that sort, but only for drinking and tea,’
‘Then where do you get water for cooking and wash-
ing ?’—* Why, from the river. But it is muddy, and
often stinks bad, because all the filth is carried there.’
‘Do he then prefer to cook your victuals in water
which is muddy and stinks, to walking a quarter of 4

4G THE PENNY
nile to fetch 1t from the pump ?’—‘ We can’t help our-
selves, you know. We could not go all that way for
it.” There are many gentlemen’s houses in the same
district in which the water is not fit for cooking; and
I know that much privation and inconvemence 1s
undergone to avoid the expense of water-carriage. I
have otten wondered to sce the slifts which have been
cnudured rather than be at the cost of an extra pail of
water, of which the price was three halfpence. With
the poor, far less obstacles are an absolute barricr,
because no privation is felt by them so little as that of
cleanliness. The propensity to dirt 1s so strong, the
steps so few and easy, that nothing but the utmost fa-
cilities for water can act as a counterpoise ; and such
is the Jove of uncleanliness, when once contracted, that
no habit, not even drunkenness, is so difficult to era-
dicate.”

In most towns, and certainly in the larger manu-
facturing towns, those members of a family who are of
strength to fetch water are usually of strength to be
employed in profitable industry, and the mere value of
their time expended in the labour of fetching water is
almost always much higher than the cost of regular
supplies of water even at the charge made by the water
companies. In Glasgow the charge for supplying a
labourer’s tenement is 5s. per annum; in Manchester
Gy. In London the usual charge is 10s. for a tenement
containing two families, for which sui two tuns and a
half of water per week may be obtained if needed.
For 5s. per anuun, then, as a water-rate (on which
from 10 to 20 per cent. is paid to [by] the ewner for col-
lection), cach Jabourer’s family may be supplied in the
metropolis with one tun and a quarter of water weekly,
if they find it necessary to use so much. ‘The tun 1s
216 gallons, equal to 108 pailfuls, at two gallons the
pail. Thus for less than one penny farthing, 145 pail-
fuls of water are taken into the house without the
labour of fetching, without spilling or disturbance, and
placed in constant readiness for use. Under any cir-
culnstances, if the labourer or his wife or child would
otherwise be employed, even in the Jowest-paid labour

or in knitting stockings, the cost of fetching water by
hand is extravagantly high as compared with the high-
est cost of water litted by steam and conducted through
iron pipes at a large expenditure of capital (the lowest
in London is about 200,U00/.) and by an expensive
management. In illustration of the difference in eco-
omy of the two modes of conveyance, I may mention
that the usual cost of filtered water carried into the
houses at Paris by the water-carriers is two sous the
vuilful, being at the rate of Ys. per tun; whilst the
tahest charge of any of the companies in London for
sending the same quantity of water to any place within
the range of their pipes and delivering itat an average
level of 100 feet, at the highest charge, is Ga. per tun.

At the highest of the water companics pen it
would be good economy for the health of the labourer’s
family to pay for water being laid on in the house, to
reduce the expense of medicines and loss of work in
the family, as indicated by any of the tables of sickness.
The cost of laying on the water in a labourer’s tene-
ment, and providing a butt or receptacle to hold it,
inay be stated to be on an average 4Us., which will last
twenty years.

The Markets in St. Petersburg.—Not only is everything
brought in sledges to market, but the sledges serve at the same
time for shops and counters. The mats which cover the goods
are thrown back a littl, and the picees of gecse, fowls, and
calves are rauced on the edge, and huog up at the corners and
on the tops of the posts. The geese are cut up into a hundred
pieces; the necks are sold separately, the Jegs separately, the
heads and rumps s«pirately, each in dozens and halt-dozens
strung together. Whoever is tuo poor to think of the tump,
buys a etring of frozen heads, and he who tinds the heads tuo

MAGAZINE. [NOVEMBER 26, 1842

dear gives six copecks for a lot of necks, while he who cannot
afford these makes shift with a couple of dozen fect, which he
stews down on Sunday into a soup for his family. ‘The sledges
with oxen, calves, and goats have the most extraordinary ap-
pearance. These animals are brought to market perfectly {regen
Or course they are suffered to freeze in an extended posture,
because in this state they are most manageable, There stand
the tall figures of the oxen, like blood-stained ghosts, Iitting up
their long horns, aronud the sides of the sledge; while the goats,
looking exactly as if they were alive, only with faint, glazed,
and frozen eyes, stand threateningly opposite to one another.
Every part is hard as stone. The carcases are cut up, like
trunks of trees, with axe and saw. hie Russians are particularly
fond of the sucking pig, and whole trains of sledges laden with
infant swine come to the market. The little starvelings, strung
together like thrushes, are sold by the dozen, and the long-
legged mothers keep watch over them around the sledge. The
anatomy of the Russian butcher is a very simple science. For,
as every part, flesh or bone, is alike hard, they have no occasion
to pay regard to the natural divisions of the jomts. With the
saw they cut up hogs into a number of steaks, an inch or two
inches thick, as we do a rump of beef. The flesh splits and
shivers during the operation like wood, and the little beggar
wenches are very busy picking up the animal sawdust out of the
snow. You do not ask for a steak, a chop,a joint, but for a
slice, a block, a lump, a splinter of meat. ‘The same is the case
with fish 5 they too are as if cut out of marble and wood. Those
of the diminutive species, like the snitki, are Lrought in sacks,
and they are put into the scales with shovels. ‘The large pike,
salmon, and sturgeon, every inch of which was once so lithe and
supple, are now stiffened as if by mazic. To protect them from
the warmth, im case of sndden thaw—tor thawing would essenti-
ally deteriorate their flavour—they are covered with snow and
Iumps of ice, in which they lie cool enough. It is not uncom-
mon for the whole cargo to be frozen into one mass, so that
crowbar and pincers are required to get at individual fish. So
long as the cold in winter keeps every fluid congealed, and tlic
suow covers every Impurity with a white carpet, this Haymarket
is tolerably clean, and you cannot pick up much dirt that may
not easily Le removed. All offal that is thrown away is
justantly frozen to the ground. Hence there is formed in th,
course of the winter such an accumulation of sheens’ eyes, fish:
tails, crabs’ shells, goats’ hair, hay, dung, fat, blood, &c., that,
when spring strips off the coveriug Lindly lent by winter, the place
is like a real Augean stable.—Aohl’s Russia and the Russians.

Demands of Increased Annual Population—t may be of
interest to observe that, as the whole population grows in age.
the annnal increase in numbers may be deemed to be equi-
valent to an amnual increase of numbers of the average ages of
the community. If they were maimtained on the existin.
average of territory to the population in Fugland, the additiona!
numbers would require an annual extension of one fifty-seventh
of the present territory of Great Brita, possessing the average
extent of roads, commons, hills, and unproductive land. The
extent of new territory required annually would form a county
larger than Surrey, or Leicester, or Nottingham, or Hereford, or
Cambridge, and nearly as large as Warwick. To feed the
aunually increased population, supposing it to consume the same
proportions of meat that is consumed by the population of Man-
chester and its vicinity (a consumption which appears to me to
he below the average of the consumption in the metropolis), the
influx of 230,000 of new population will require for their con-
stunption an annual increase of 27,327 head of cattle, 70,319
sheep, 64,715 lambs, and 789 calves, to raise which an annual
increase of upwards of 81,000 acres of good pasture-land would
he required, Taking the consumption of wheat or Lread to be
on the scale of a common dietary, te. 56 02. daily for a family
of aman, woman, and three children, then the annual addition
of supply of wheat required will be about 105,000 quarters,
requiring 28.058 acres of land, yielding 30 bushels of wheat to
anacre: the total amount of good land reqnisite for raising the
chief articles of food will thereture be in all about 109,000 acres
of good pasture-land annually. If the increase of production
obtained by the use of the refuse of Edinburgh (that is, of $C00
oxen from one quarter of the refuse of Kdinburgh) be taken as
the scale of production obtainable by appropriate measures, the
refuse of the metropolis alone that is now thrown away weuld
serve to feed no less thau 218,288 oxen annually, which would
be equivalent to the produce of double that number of acres of
good pasture-land — Mer Chadwick's Samtary Report.

SUPPLEMENT. ]

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

465

A DAY AT A ROPE AND SAIL-CLOTH FACTORY.

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Our “visit” on the present occasion takes us to the
East end of the metropolis, where shipping and the
emblems of shipping meet the eye on every side ;
where the shops exhibit those multifarious commodi-
ties necessary for the fitting-up of a ship, or the fitting-
out of the “jolly tars,” whose castle the ship is to be;
where the bustle in the streets is chiefly the bustle
connected with seafaring people; and where the very
atmosphere seems to tell a similar tale. :

The history of a rope is a more curious one than
many readers or observers would suppose. This in-
valuable part of a ship’s fittings is associated in the
minds of some with the idea of a clumsy, dirty, ta
bundle of fibres, roughly twisted together, and coate
with something altogether repugnant to the delicate
fingers of the West. But we may perhaps be able to
show that a large measure of inventive se has
been displayed in the arrangements connected with the
construction of a rope, and that—as in many an analo-
gous case—a rough exterior enyelops much to merit
our attention.

The firm of Sir Joseph Huddart and Co. ‘have libe-
rally permitted us to describe the operations of their
man econ | at Limehouse ; an establishment present-
ing unusual points of interest to a visitor, from the
circumstance that the manufacture of ropes and of saz/-
cloth is here carried on in conjunction. In our notice
of Messrs. Green and Wigram’s ship-yard, in the
volume for 1841, we had occasion to
ging-house and of a sail-loft; in the former of whic
the cordage, obtained from the rope-maker, is adapted
to the wants of a ship; while in the latter, the canvas,
obtained from the weaver, is worked up into the form

No. 684.

speak of a rig-:

of sails. To the manufacture of these two commodi-
ties, as combined by one firm, the following details
relate. But first let us take a bird's-eye view of the
buildings and fields and avenues constituting the
factory.

Those who are not acquainted with Limehouse beyond
the fact that it is situated somewhere in the remote
east, may be informed that it is contiguous to the
Thames at the north-west extremity of the Isle of
Dogs; and even of those who do know the spot, some
may perhaps be ignorant that there is a canal extending
from the Thames at Limehouse to the River Lea. On
the north bank of this canal is situated the factory
which the reader is about to visit. The canal was cut
some seventy years ago at the expense of the city of
London, to form a short communication between the
upper course of the river Lea and the Thames at Lon-
don, by avoiding the tortuous windings of Bow Creek,
and of the Thames round the Isle of Dogs. We believe
it has not been a very profitable speculation ; but with
this we have nothing here to do. At the end of a lane
a few hundred feet northward of Limehouse Church,
and near this canal, we enter, through a pair of folding
gates, the premises of the factory.

The first object to be seen is an open plot of ground,
bounded on one side by the muddy waters of this
almost-deserted canal, and onthe other by buildings.
A second pair of entrance-gates affords access to the
buildings, which consist of three parallel ranges, sepa-
rated by open courts. The left of these ranges is a
long, low, open tile-roofed building, used principall
as a rigging-house. In the central and right-han
ranges are the various apartments in which the manu-

Von. | XI.—3 O

466

facture is carried on, and which are very numerous.
Those nearest the entrance are offices and warehouses
of different kinds. In one long apartment, full of little
floating hempen particles, the hatchelling, or prepara-
tion of the hemp, is being carried on. In another is the
boiler and other apparatus connected with the tarring
of the hempen yarn. Ina separate building the barrels
of tar are deposited, as a precautionary measure in case
of fire. In one room are two beautiful machines,
hereafter to be described, for making the earlier forms
of a rope without the aid of a rope-walk. In another,
iron-floored and fire-proof, is an elaborate machine for
making flat-ropes. .

But the most novel part of a rope-factory, to a
stranger, is the apparently interminable ‘walk’ or
avenue in which ropes are customarily made. These
walks far exceed in length the workshops of most
- other classes of artisans; they are from six to twelve
hundred feet in length, and are generally covered with
a tiled roof, whether or not they are closed at the sides.
At the factory under consideration there are two of
these avenues, forming the northern continuations of two
of the ranges of building. In one of them, boarded on
one side and open on the other, the early process of
rope-making is carried on, viz. that in which the
hempen fibres are spun into yarns. In the other the
ropes are formed from: the smaller elements prepared
in the spinning-walk; this walk, like the other, has an
earthen floor, but it is enclosed on both sides, and has
above it another long room where the yarns are pre-

ared for twisting. Here too in the ‘ laying-walk,’ as
it is termed (daying being the technical term for what
we should call the making or twisting of a rope), we
may see a little railroad, on which a travelling engine
is continually employed in making ropes. |

Besides all these buildings, which relate to the rope-
manufacture only, there are those connected with the
sail-cloth manufacture. First there is a building de-
tached from all others, and provided with boilers, cop-
pers, presses, and other apparatus, where the flaxen
yarns are washed and prepared for the weaver. Then
there is a large open field, between the rope-walks and
the canal, in which the flax-yarns are hung up on poles
to dry and bleach ; and near this an artificial mound
containing a reservoir of water for the use of the
whole establishment. Then within doors is a large
and busily occupied apartment, filled with machines
for winding and preparing the yarns for the weavers.
To this succeeds another wherein forty power-looms
produce such a deafening clatter as somewhat
taxes the ear of one who is unused to such scenes
of bustle. In a long avenue we see thirty or forty
hand-loom. weavers plying the shuttle in the mode
which is now so often superseded by machinery, but
which is still conveniently adopted under some circum-
stances. In another room is a calendering-machine,
to give the finishing touch to the woven material.

It will thus be seen that the two departments of the
establishment occupy a very wide area of ground, and
@ numcrous series of buildings. Let us next en-
deavour to understand the nature of the processes
going on ; and first for the

Rope MANUFACTURE.

The material for nearly all our cordage comes from
Russia. Some is imported from Manilla, and a small
quantity, we believe, from other places; but the great
bulk is received from St. Petersburg and the neigh-
bouring parts of the Russian dominions. The quantity
which reaches England from that country is immense.
In the eight years from 1825 to 1832, there was, on an
average, considerably more than a million poods im-
ported annually; a pood being a Russian weight, of
which sixty-three make a ton; or, more familiarly,

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

(NOVEMBER, 1842.

a pood is about thirty-six pounds English. The value
of the hemp imported for our manufactures in 1839
amounted to more than six hundred thousand pounds.

The hemp arrives in England in large bundles,
which are separated at the roperies into smaller por-
tions; or rather, this separation is effected in the hold
of the vessels, where the bundles, weighing nearly a
ton each, are separated into ‘ heads’ or ‘ layers,’ each
containing about twelve or fourteen pounds of hemp.
The qualities required in good hemp are, that the fibres
should be long, fine, and thin, smooth and glossy on
the surface, free from fragments of the woody fibre
of the hemp-plant, and possessed of considerable
strength and toughness.

Before the rope-maker can begin to use the
hempen fibres, it is necessary that they should, be
straight and parallel, free from dirt, and reduced as
nearly as may be to an equable thickness. To effect
these preparations the hemp is passed through a
process which is termed ‘ heckling,’ or ‘ hackling,’ or
‘hatchelling.’ There seem to be different modes of
spelling this word adopted in different factories ;. for
writers on the subject seem to have adopted that
particular one which may have been in use at the
establishment which they visited ; and we shall do the
same, for want'of a better reason. In one of the upper
rooms of the factory a number of men are stationed i
a row, with the simple apparatus for hatchelling. On
the surface of a small bench before him, each hatcheller
has a series of extremely sharp steel spikes, seventy or
eighty in number, inserted point upwards, and in
parallel order; this is called the hatchel. The work-
man, taking a ‘ head’ or ‘ layer’ of hemp in his hand,
strikes it on the points of the hatchel, and draws it
between the spikes; repeating this operation several
times with each head.

The hempen fibres are not only straightened by this
mode of proceeding, but the thicker ones are split by
the sharp points of the wires, and all the loose frag-
ments are made to separate and fall to the ground.
Sometimes the hemp is moistened with a little whale-
oil, to facilitate its progress through the hatchel ; and
hatchels of finer or coarser texture, that is, having
more or fewer wires in a given space, are used accord-
ing tothe kind of cordage into which the hemp is to
be made. The hatchelling-shop presents heaps of
hemp, some hatchelled and some not, lying about in
different directions ; and the air of the reom is loaded
with dusty particles of hemp, struck out from the heap
by the action of the hatchel.

The fibres are straightened and prepared, and the
accumulation of them into manufactured cordage com-
mences. It is sometimes asked, “ Why should the
fibres be twisted; why not bind them together in a
straight form?” Their limited length (three or four
feet) is the chief reason why this twisting is necessary.
If the fibres were of sufficient length, the most effectual
mode of obtaining their united strength would be to
lay them side by side, fastened together at intervals
so as to form a bundle or skein; but as the fibres are
so short, it becomes necessary, in order to obtain a rope
of greater length than that of the fibres, so to twine
them together that the friction between and amonz
them shall offer an effectual resistance to any one of
them being drawn out from the mass. The manner
in which a hay-band is formed from small blades of
hay, will illustrate the strength which this kind of
entanglement imparts. But this is not all; the en-
tanglement produced by twisting the fibres not only
enables the rope-maker to produce cordage of any
desired length, but also, by making the rope hard and
compact, increases its durability, and enables it ina
great measure to resist the penetration of water.

The fibres, then, are twisted round one another to

SUPPLEMENT. |

form a rope; but here a curious circumstance presents
itself for notice. We never see a bundle of fibres
simply formed into one twist; for a rope appears to
present some twists in a left-handed direction, and
others in a right; and also it appears to be made up of
smaller ropes. Let us analyse a ‘ rope’s end,’ and see
how it is built up. We have here a representation of
a small piece of cablet (a nautical name for rope
formed in the same manner as, although much smaller
than, a cable), which is so dissected at one end as to
show the component parts. In the first place we have
the cablet itself a, presenting the appearance with
which most persons are familiar who have ever been
on board a ship. By applying a little force to this,
we can untwist it, and it then presents to view three
smaller ropes, such as 5, the powerful aggregation of
which had formed the cablet. Each of these is known

{Analyais of a Rope.)

as a ‘ hawser-laid’ or ‘ shroud-laid’ rope,

Labialanegs fl :
ereby a ro

meaning t

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

467

of these strands in the cablet. Pursuing our analysis
still further, by untwisting one of the strands, we find
that it iscomposed of a considerable number of small
strings, such as d, allabout equal in thickness; these
are called ‘ yarns;’ and if we untwist one of the yarns,
we arrive finally at the hempen fibres themselves, re-
presented at e. . |

It thus appears, that instead of twisting many
hundreds or thousands of hempen fibres one round
another, there are successive groups formed, each one
augmenting the thickness of the rope previously pro-
duced ; thus many flbres are spun into a yarn, many
yarns into a strand, three strands into a rope, and three
of these latter into a cable or cablet. Now for the
reason of this. Ifacable were formed at once of the
individual yarns, twisted one round another, the outer
layer would be necessarily exposed to more stress than
the internal yarns, since the latter lie at less distances
from the centre of the rope. When twisted together
the outer yarns would form a spiral of a number of
turns round the included yarns, being thereby much
shortened; whilst the inner yarns would take only the
same number of turns round a reduced axis, being
thereby less shortened than the former; from whence
it would follow that the outer yarns only would be in
full tension, while those within would be more or less
coiled up according to their proximity to the centre of
therope. The ultimate result would be, that the outer
yarns would break long befort the inner-ones had borne
their fair share of the strain to which the rope might,
be exposed. It is probable that in the primitive times
of rope-making this‘rude method was adopted, and
that it was gradually abandoned when the makers
found that the yarns would bear more equally by
building up the rope as it were piecemeal, and giving
to each successive accumulation a twist in a direction
contrary to that of its component parts.

The rope, then, 1s made at several successive stages,
the first of which is the ‘ spinning’ into yarn. At one
end of the long rope-walk is a wheel, three or four
feet in diameter, round which’a band passes in such a
manner as to give rotation to a number of small hooks
or whirls disposed round a semicircular frame above
the wheel. - These hooks are from eight to twelve in

formed in the same manner as | number, and are each adapted for the spinning of one

a hawser or a shroud rope. Selecting one of these | yarn. The spinners advance, generally in sets of four
three, and applying a force to untwist it, we find that | at a time, to the wheel, and commence that operation
ol t

itis formed
called in the roperies ‘strands ;’ so that there are nine

ree smaller ropes, such as c, which are | which, however simple, is often inexplicable to a by-

stander, and which we have here sketched. Each spinner

i /f ANN
JET f fail

hii!
hi é
Ai),
Wi)";
Yip
ae

M We
I fi ‘e ’
a AS

Le
——

{Spinning.]

has a bundle of hatchelled hemp round his waist, the | each other behind. With his left hand he draws out a
double, or ‘ bight,’ being in front, and the ends crossing | few fibres, and fastens them on one of the hooks. With

302

468 THE PENNY
his right, which holds a piece of thick woollen cloth,
he grasps these fibres. A man then turns the wheel,
and the spinner walks backwards. It is curious to
observe the effect of this double movement. The man
draws out more and more fibres from his bundle as
he recedes ; and the twist which is given to these by
the rotation of the hook makes each length of fibre
entangle among or cling to those previously drawn
out, while the pressure of the right hand regulates the
hardness or closeness of the twist. A little considera-
tion will show that the rate at which the spinner walks
backwards, the rapidity with which the hook rotates,
and the number of fibres drawn out by each movement
of the left hand, are all concerned in determining the
thickness of the yarn produced. The men by long
practice are enabled so to proportion their movements
as to produce any given length of yarn from a given
weight of hemp.

In this way the spinners continue to work for hours
together, walking backwards while they are spinning
the yarn, and forward while the yarn is being wound
on a reel. Along the whole length of the ‘ walk’
there are at intervals transverse beams overhead, into
which hooks are driven; and on these hooks the yarns
are suspended when it is necessary to prevent them
trom trailing on the ground. Each spinner can make
about a thousand fect of yarn in twelve minutes. The
number of fibres forming each yarn is never reckoned
among the rope-makcrs’ calculations; but the yarn is
estimated by the we:ght of hemp contained in a given
length: thus, a rope three inches in circumference
being taken as a standard, and this divided into three
strands, the yarns are numbered 18, 20, 25, 30, or 40,
«according to the number required to form one of these
strands, and each of these has a definite weight for a
given length. For a three-inch rope, of which each
strand is to contain twenty yarns, one hundred and
sixty fathoms (nine hundred and eta of the yarn
must weigh three pounds and a half. Ali these are
mattcrs which the fingers of the spinner regulate
almost intuitively; he does not stop to work out
‘multiplication sums,’ but produces a ‘ No. 20’ or
a ‘No. 25’ yarn by manipulative adjustments, of
which he himself could probably give very little ex-
planation.

We may mention here that nearly all the spinning
and twisting concerned in rope-making are or have
been more or less effected by machinery in different
factories; but in principle the effect is precisely the
same whether the hooks be made to rotate by a hand-
winch or by a steam-engine applied to a larger appa-
ratus; and we have therefore spoken of the spinning
in its simplest and most easily understood form. When
a ‘spinning-walk ’ is in full operation, there are twelve
spinners at different parts of its length, in three
cous each group being distant three or four hun-

red feet from the next adjoining, and all the twelve
hooks or whirls of the wheel being engaged at once.
As the yarns are twisted, they are wound in large
bundles upon reels, each reel containing about two
hundred and fifty pounds of yarn.

We must next speak of a distinction between ‘ white-
rope ’ and ‘tarred-rope.’ When a rope is to be used in
the open air, but under cover, it is left in the ‘ white’
state; that is, it is not coated with tar or any other sub-
stance. But when it is exposed to the action of water,
a coating of some composition is found necessary to
enable the hemp to resist the rotting influence of the
water, and tar is the substance almost universally used
for this purpose. As regards actual strength, an un-
tarred rope is the stronger of the two; but this is more
than counterbalanced by the action of water on the
hempen fibre. Propositions have at several times
becn made to substitute for tar some other composi-

MAGAZINE. [NovemBeER, 1842.
tion ; but we have here only to speak of the method
actually employed.

The hemp is tarred (if tarred at all) after it has been
spun into yarn, but before the yarns are twisted into
strands. The reels of yarn are first ‘ warped’ into a
‘haul,’ that is, the yarns are unwound from the reel,
stretched out straight and parallel, and assembled
together in a large group called a ‘haul.’ This haul
frequently consists of between three and four hundred
yarns, each a hundred yards in length; and in this
state the hemp is tarred. In one of the buildings of
the factory is a huge copper for containing melted tar.
The haul dips into the tar (which is heated to a tem-

rature found to be the best for penetrating to the

eart of every yarn), and is then dragged our? a
grip or gauge, which compresses the yarns so much as
to force the tar into every part of the haul, and at the
same time squeeze out the superfluous portion. By
the aid of a capstan the haul is drawn gradually for-
ward, until the whole has passed through the tar-
kettle.

The tarred haul then passes into an upper building
of the factory, called the ‘ winding-loft,’ where it is
wound, by the aid of a simple but ingenious machine,
upon bobbins about a foot high, each bobbin being
made to contain about twenty pounds of yarn.

The state to which we have now traced our rope 18
that of a yarn, say one-sixth or one-eighth of an inch
in diameter, rough, somewhat uneven, and of a brown
colour. This yarn we have next to trace into the form
of a‘strand.’ As the thickness of yarns 1s Classified
according to the number of them required for a three-
inch rope, so does the number of yarns combined to
form a strand depend altogether on the thickness of
rope to be formed. It is this which forms the chief
point of difference between different ropes, for the
yarns do not differ very greatly in thickness. Jn the
piece of cablet of which we have given a sketch there
are only seven or eight yarns in a strand: in a cable
twelve inches in circumference there are eighty yarns
toa strand; and in the very largest rope-cables ever
used in the navy, three hundred and sixty. But what-
ever be the number, whether as few as seven or as
many as three hundred and sixty, they are all twisted
uniformly one around another to form astrand. It
may be convenient to bear in mind that when the size
of a rope is mentioned in inches, it invariably relates
to the circumference, and not to the deamefer: thus a
first-rate cable of twenty-five inches is about eight
inches in diameter, the larger measurement referring
to the circumference.

Here we have to speak of one of the improvements
effected by the late Capt. Huddart. When the number
of yarns in a strand is very great, a difficulty occurs to
which we have before alluded, viz. the unequal strain
upon the external ‘and internal parts. About the be-
ginning ef dhe prevent century Capt. Huddart showed
that, in order 6 equalisc the strain, the outer yarns of
every strand eng tou be somewhat longer than the
immer, to compensate for the greater circumference
roand which ve to turn. He had previously
been an officer # the East India Company's service ;
but he embarked #m the undertaking of rope-making
chiefly with a view to put in practice certain improve-
ments wich his mventive ingenuity had devised; and
he thus Maid the foundation of the eminent firm which
bears dis name. ;

Without detailing the various steps by which im-
provements were introduced, we will at once proce
to the beautiful machine represented in our frontis-
piece. In a skeleton frame, concave towards the
centre of the room, are a great number of ‘ bobbins,
each loaded with yarn ready for being formed into a
strand, and each being poised on a pivot so as to rotate

SUPPLEMENT ]

with facility. The ends of all these yarns, which may
be twenty, fifty, eighty, in number, are made to pass
through an equal number of small holes in a convex

late attached to the central machine, and then com-

ined into one close group. This group next passes
through a tube, whose diameter is such as to compress
the yarns into close contact, and lastly is wound ona
large reel attached to the machine. Meanwhile the
twist is given to the strand by a remarkable arrange-
ment. The whole of the mechanism, from the tube to
the reel, rotates round an horizontal axis; and, in 80
doing, imparts a twist to the strand which 1s passing
round the various wheels. The different adjustments
are very beautiful. In the first place each bobbin,
rotating separately on its axis, gives off just as much
yarn as the strand requires ; so that all become equally
strained, by the outer yarns being somewhat longer
than the inner. Then the arrangement of the holes in
the plate, and of the tube, bring all the yarns to their
proper position in the strand: and lastly, by changing
the wheels in the machine, the strand becomes more or
less hard, by twisting at a more or less acute angle.
If the strand be drawn more swiftly through while the
machine is revolving witha gwen velocity, the intensity
or closeness of the twist is diminished ; if less swiftly,
then the twist is increased. The system for attaining
any required intensity of twist is called the ‘register,’ in
relation to the means for determining the exact degree
of twist in the strand; and hence the whole process
has come to be termed, in the technical language of
the factory, regi. vibe:

A registered strand, or the strand produced by
twisting the yarns together by this machine, is a smooth,
uniform piece of cordage, all the yarns twisting round
in one direction, and all contributing equally to the
strength of the whole. Its thickness varies according
to the purpose for which it is intended. Thus a strand
for a twelve-inch cable contains eighty yarns, and is
about an inch in diameter; while that for a smaller
rope would be proportionally thinner. The nature of
this machine is such that it can produce an endless
strand; for if new bobbins are placed on the frame as
fast as the old ones are exhausted, and if the strand
is removed from the reel as fast as made, the machine,
worked as it is by a steam-engine, may continuously
add to the length of the strand.

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

469

There is another registerirg-machine of a larger size
in the same building, for producing strands of greater
diameter. There is also, in that part of the factory
called the ‘ laying-walk,’ a curious travellir g-engine,
which twists the strands of small diameter. At one
end of this walk is a bobbin-frame, similar in principle
to the one before noticed, and from this the several yarns
proceed through a perforated plate, as in the other
Instance; but instead of being twisted by a machine
which revolves on its own axis, the yarns are fastened
to revolving hooks attached to a travelling-carriage,
which moves in a railway farther and farther from the
bobbin-frame as the strand becomes more and more
lengthened. The railway extends probably a thousand
feet in length; and the machine, which is about a yard
long, travels from end to end of this railway in about
half an hour, setting in rotation the hooks to which
the yarns are attached.

It is not easy for a stranger at first to understand the
technicalities of a ropery, for though the word < twist-
ing ’ would express the whole succession of steps, yet
we hear of ‘ spinning’ when the fibres are twisted into
a yarn, ‘ registering’ when the yarns are twisted into
a strand, and ‘laying’ when the strands are twisted
into arope. We must accustom ourselves to the last
of these terms in attending to the process next to be
described.

In the ‘jaying-walk’ a revolving wheel, placed near
one end, is provided with hooks whereon the three
strands to form a rope are fixed (four being sometimes
the number, but generally three). These hooks are
made to rotate by any of the usual methods, such as
turning a hand-winch connected with a wheel which
acts on all the hooks, or bringing steam-power into
action; both these methods being employed at the
factory which is engaging our attention. At the other
end of the walk all the strands are fastened to one hook,
which revolves in an opposite direction to the others ;
and it is easy to conceive that this double movement
would twist all the three strands round each other.
But it is equally easy to see that this twisting would be
very unequal, unless other appendages be employed ;
since the twist would be more close or hard near the
ends than at the middle.

The annexed cut represents the singular contrivance
for equalizing the hardness of the twist or ‘lay. A

ert a :
Th th 2

>» A
tee i ye

— ey

* Laying. or making a Rope.)

conical or rather beehive-shaped piece of wood, called | rope by a simple piece of apparatus, and causes the
a ‘ top,’ is inserted between t direc strands, grooves | twist to become hard and firm. The top, as the rope
being cut in the surface of the top for their reception. | closes behind it, is slowly urged on from one end to
This top, thus placed, prevents the strands from twist- | the other; if small, it is managed by a ‘ top-man,’ but
ing, except in the direction of its smaller end; while a | if large, it is supported on a carriage, as in our cut.
man, stationed immediately behind, compresses the | No difference exists in the making of a larger or a

470

smaller rope, so far as principle is concerned; the
three strands are twisted round each other in the same
manner, by apparatus more or less powerful, accord-
ing to the size of the rope. As it is a natural conse-
quence of the twisting process, that the rope should
gradually shorten as it is formed, provision is made for
this shortening in the arrangement of the apparatus.
The wheel to which the three strands are fixed, on
three separate hooks, is a fixture at one end of the
‘walk ;’ but the other end of the strands is fastened to
a moveable sledge, which is so weighted as to travel
gradually up the walk, just as fast as the rope dimi-
nishes in length.

A rope thus formed from three strands is the kind
which most commonly meets our notice on land, and
is technically known as ‘ hawser-rope,’ or ‘ shroud-
rope.’ From three such ropes a cable, or cablet, is
formed in precisely the same manner; the three being
fixed to three revolving hooks at one end, and one at
the other; and a travelling ‘ top’ being used to regu-
late and harden the twist. It may be well to remark,
that ropes as ordinarily formed, that is, with three
strands, do not require a ‘heart,’ or central strand, be-
cause the angles formed by the union of the three
cylindrical strands are such that the pressure, in the
operation of laying or closing the rope, causes the
strands to fill up the central space completely; but
when the number of strands exceeds three, a ‘ heart’
is essential to keep them equidistant from the axis of
she rope, and to fill up the vacancy that would other-
wise be left by their not meeting in the centre. The
heart however does not add proportionate strength to
the rope, since its fibres, being straighter than those of
the outer strands, yield in a different degree.

All arrangements, such as the above, produce ropes
of a definite length, viz. the length of the rope-walk.
But some machines have been constructed for ‘ laying’
endless ropes, that is, not only effecting all this twist-
ing and hardening by steam-power, but continuing the
process to any required extent. For example, in the
warehouse of the factory we saw a rope, about eight
inches in circumference, and a mile and a quarter in
length, which had been made by sucha machine. Of

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

(NovemsBer, 1842.

these machines a magnificent series, constructed by
the late Captain Huddart, now occupy a place in Her
Majesty’s Dock-yard at Deptford ; they are for ‘laying’
cables of the largest dimensions, and have attracted
much attention from engineers. It is worthy of notice,
however, in connection with these details, that iron
chain-cables are now superseding hempen cables of
large size; the latter being at the present day seldom
made more than twelve inches in circumference, ex-
cept for Her Majesty's Navy.

One of the upper buildings of the factory contains
a powerful and curious machine for making flat ropes.
These are ropes useful in mining operations, and con-
sist of three or four well-made round ropes stitched
together side by side. The operation of making these
is simply a gigantic kind of thread-and-needle work ;
yet the force required renders the employment of a
complicated machine necessary. Supposing four round
ropes are to form the flat rope, four reels are so placed
that the ropes can unwind from them with facility, and
pass side by side through a steam-heated box, where the
tar becomes a little softened, and the ropes more easily
worked. They next pass through a groove or a recess
closed in tightly at top, bottom, and sides, except holcs
at the sides to admit the needles. A piercer, formed
of a sharp-pointed rod of steel, probably a foot long
and half an inch thick, is then forced entirely through
the whole of the four ropes, by a leverage of enormous
power; and a man immediately afterwards passes a
needle and thread through the whole. When we say
that this thread is a hempen-yarn sometimes half an
inch in thickness, it will readily conceived that the
hole for its reception is a tolerably large one, and that
no little force is required in drawing the thread tight.
Two steel piercers are employed in succession, one on
either edge of the rope, making diagonal holes through
the four ropes; and two men, provided with needles
and thread, pass the latter through the holes as fast as
the piercers make them. There is mechanism at one
end ot the apparatus for drawing the rope forwards as
fast as itissewn. A small part of the arrangement,
connected with the more immediate insertion of the
needles, is shown in the adigining cut.

(Flat-rope Making.)

The difference between the varieties of cordage,
called twine, cord, string, rope, &c., is chiefly matter of
detail; the actual formation by eae being nearly
the same in all. The finer and lighter kinds of twine
are made of flax, others of fine hemp more carefully
heckled than that for larger rope. The spinning
here takes the place of subsequent processes in the
rope-manufacture, for there is no ‘ registering’ or
‘laying’ in fine twine. Generally speaking, the twine
and small cord manufacture is, we believe, carried on

only to a limited extent by the firms which make the
large ropes for shipping; and it presents no marked
features calling for our attention here.

Let us next take a rapid glance at the

Sait-CLotH MANUFACTURE.

This department so far bears an analogy to that of
the rope-manufacture, that vegetable fibres constitute
the material of manufacture in both, and that these
fibres are spun into a thread or yarn at am early stage

SUPPLEMENT. ]

in each manufacture. Put beyond this point analogy
ceases. Sail-cloth is the stoutest, the strongest, and
the most durable of al] varieties of flax fabrics. It is
in fact a linen, so far as linen isa generic name for
woven flax; but canvas isa more usual name. The
powerful strain which the sails of a large ship are re-
quired to bear, renders neccessary the employment of
well-spun flax and well-woven yarns in the produc-
tion of the cloth from whence they are made. In the
Royal Dock-yards the quality of the sail-cloth is closely
attended to; and there is equal attention paid to the
subject in the East India Company’s shipping. In the
merchant service generally, the quality 1s more or less
excellent, according to circumstances; and any one
who has glanced at the shipping below London Bridge
will not fail to have remarked the strange medlcy of
sails which the lower classes of vessels display.

Why it is that sails are not made of broad canvas, of
a width somewhat analogous to that now employed by
the floor-cloth manufacturers, we do not know; but
the fact is that sail-cloth is woven only to a width of
about two feet; so that a large number of joins is
required for a large sail. It is not improbable thata
greater waste of material would occur in cutting a
sail from broad canvas than from that of narrower
width, in consequence of the curved and inclined
edges of the sails. Be that as it may, the custom seems
to have been of long standing and general application,
and as such we must view it.

The flax for making sail-cloth is not spun into yarn
in London; this process is effected in the flax-manu-
facturing districts of Scotland, from whence the yarn
is purchased for the London market. The yarn comes
to the factory in large bundles, made up of smaller
hanks or skeins. It is of a light-brownish colour, and
has to undergo a washing and partial bleaching
process before it is used for sail-cloth. For this
purpose the bundles are taken to the ‘ bucking-house,’
a building provided with various coppers, boilers, and
large steeping-vesscls. The yarn is thrown, in the
first place, into hot alkaline liquor, composed of
potash or pearlash in hot water, and there steeped for
some time. From thence it is removed to a receptacle
called a‘ splash-mill,’ somewhat resembling a fulling-
mill, where it is beaten and worked about to free it
from impuritics. To this succeeds a thorough rinsing
or washing in a stream of running water. The water
thus imbibed by the yarn is next squeezed out by an
hydraulic press; the yarn being put into a box, and
pressure being there exerted on it, by which almost
every semblance of moisture is expelled. But all this
is merely preparatory ; for the yarn is next subjected
to a five-hours’ boiling process, in a copper containing
alkaline liquor. All these operations are, as may be
supposed, very wet and not very cleanly; so that the
‘ bucking-house’ is the least attractive part of the
factory.

When all that alkaline liquor can remove is thus
removed from the hemp, the skeins or hanks are hung
out in the open air for several days to dry, and—in the
act of drying—to bleach. The ‘ bleach-field,’ as viewed
from the summit of the reservoir, has a singular ap-
pearance. A series of upright posts sup Eo two rows,
an upper and a lower, of horizontal poles, on each of
which the hanks are hung. As each of these poles
runs out to a considerable extent, and as there are
twenty or thirty of these frames or scaffolds ranged
parallel one to another, the whole field looks like one
mass of flax, extending from the ground toa height of
about six feet. Here the flax remains about a weck,
exposed to the air, the action of which, combined with
the previous washing and boiling, gives a considerable
degree of whiteness to the flax. Near the bleach-field
is a drying-shed, in which the flax is hung up in certain

THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 471

states of the weather. There is also a ‘stove-room,’ in

which the flax can be exposed to any required degree

of temperature ; this room has an iron floor, throuzh

which heat rises to warm the air of the room ; and over

rte are poles or bars on which the hanks of flax are
ung.

The material being washed, bleached, and dried, we
next follow it to some of the inner buildings of the
factory, where it gradually assumes the form of woven
cloth. All which precedes the actual weaving is
effected in one large apartment ; and a remarkable
apartment this is, both in reference to its general ap-
pearance and to the nature of the processes carried
on therein. Most persons have a general idea of the
nature of woven fabrics, of the long threads, or ‘ warp,’
the short threads, or ‘ weft,’ and the manner in which
they mutually interlace. But the preparation of the
weft and warp involves a few details not much known
beyond the manufacturing districts.

irst, for the weft threads. These are used in the
shuttle, the movements of which to and fro in the act
of weaving form the web. Each shuttle contains a
little pivot or axle called a ‘ quill,’ loaded with the
weft-yarn ; and three or four machines of an ingenious
kind are at work in the ‘ winding-room,’ supplying
these quills with yarn. In the old-fashioned process
of hand-weaving the quills are filled by women or
children, who use a humble-wheel to wind the yarn on
them. The quill-machines, however, each of which is
attended by one woman, have a considerable number
of quills ranged in a row, and made to rotate rapidly.
In the actof rotation the quills draw off yarn gra ually
from reels on which it had previously been wound;
and the women renew the quills and the reels as fast
as the one are filled and the other sel eee A com-
parison between this operation and that of winding
on quills separately, as we saw it being done by a
little boy for the hand-loom weavers in another part
of the factory, illustrates strikingly the saving of time
effected by the former. The little quills in the quill-
machine, rapidly revolving and feeding themselves
with yarn, require but little care from the attendant,
who can manage a whole machine full of them at one
time.

The yarns for the ‘warp’ are prepared for the
weaver with more difficulty. At the entrance-end of
the ‘ winding-room’ we see four machines for winding
the yarn on bobbins. The skeins of yarn are put ona
kind of skeleton wheels about two feet in diameter,
from whence they are transferred to bobbins about five
or six inches long. Here everything seems to be in
motion ; the wheels or recls on which the skeins are
placed, the bobbins for the reception of the yarn, and
cylinders or rollers for pressing the yarn close to the
surface of the bobbins. .

But the most remarkable stage in the proceedings is
the next following, of which we have endeavoured to
give a sketch in the annexed cut. It is only by
closely following the career of a thread through the
machine that we can see what processes it undergoes.
In the first place, nearly nine hundred bobbins are ar-
ranged in an upright frame, so that each one can give
off its thread without entanglement with the others.
The nine hundred yarns, unwinding from the bobbins,

ass through nine hundred little eyes or loops, and then
tween an equal number of meshes or reeds, to bring
all into parallel order. Then the whole nine hundred,
forming a flat band or layer five orsix feet wide, pass
between two revolving rollers, the lowermost of which
dips into a trough full of paste, by which every thread .
becomes soaked therewith. Then they pass between
horse-hair brushes, one over and one under, each of
which is as long as the whole width of the row of
threads, and two or three inches wide. The effect of

472 THE PENNY
this brushing is to equalize the paste on every separate
yarn, very much more equably than it could be effected
hy a hana-brush. Then, without disturbing the paral-
lel arrangement of the yarns, they are made to
over a steam-heated copper box or cylinder, whereb
the paste is partially dried; and immediately after-
wards over a steam-heated iron box, when the drying
is completed. The dried yarns next pass through the
weavers ‘ harness,’ that is, small loops in a row of
strings ; and are lastly wound on the weaver’s beam,
ready to be put into the loom.

Nothing can exceed the regularity and order of
this series of processes. The whole arrangement is
about thirty feet long, that is, from the bobbin-frame
to the warp-beam the yarn passes along that distance.
The contents of all the eight or nine hundred bobbins
are collected on one warp-beam, parallel, and in per-
fectly regular order. The yarn leaves the bobbins
in a rough pliant state, and in a few seconds after-
wards reachs the warp-beam stiffly starched and per-
fectly dry. The nine hundred fobbins are all re-
volving at once; so are the rollers; the paste-brushes
have a brush-like kind of movement given to them,
and the warp-beam is also revolving. Not only
so, but the machine keeps its own accounts, for when
a certain number of yards of yarn are wound on the
beam, the machine ringsa bell, and this gives the fore-
inan an intimation which perhaps would not otherwise
he so correctly given. There are in one room four of
these large machines, four of the warp-windin
machines, and three of those for quill-winding ; all
ce by shafts, wheels, and bands from an engine

elow.

The warp being filled by one sort of machine, and
the shuttle-quills by another, we descend to a lower
room, and witness the combination of the two sorts of
yarn into cloth. Whoever has been to the Polytechnic
Institution may have seen there a power-loom, and
may have noticed the mode in which such complicated
machines work. Forty of these, as we have before
stated, are at work in the weaving-room of the factory,
and may, from the noise which they create, give a fore-

MAGAZINE. [NovemsBeR, 1842.

taste of the giant establishments at Manchester. The
machine throws its own shuttle, moves its own assem-
blage of warp-threads, drives up the weft-threads as
fast as they are thrown, and winds the woven canvas
on a roller. One woman is able to manage two power-
looms, to supply warp and weft, mend broken threads,
and remove the finished material.

Besides the power-looms, there are in the factory a
considerable number of hand-looms also at work. The
semi-scientific exhibitions in London have made these
as well as the power-loom tolerably well known ; and
many a person has probably been surprised at the
patience with which a man can sit for hours at a time
throwing a shuttle alternately with his right hand and
his left, moving a suspended bar alternately to and fram
him, and treading alternately on a lever with one or
the other foot, and may have perhaps pondered how
many movements of hand, arm, and foot must be made
before a shilling can be earned.

One more process, and our sail-cloth is finished. It
is taken to a ‘receiving-room,’ where it is examined,
lumps and irregularities removed, measured, and
weighed. In one part of the factory is a ‘ calendering’
machine, through which all the canvas then passes.
This machine consists mainly of one iron and two
wooden rollers, which are made to approximate more
or less closely together, according to the pressure in-
tended to be given. The canvas is drawn between
these rollers, and comes out flat, smooth, dense, and
slightly glossed at the surface. It is then made u
into compact parcels, called ‘bolts,’ in which form it
passes into the hands of the sailmaker. A few par-
ticulars of this last-named occupation were given in
the a wale for June, 1841, and need not be re-
peated here. Sails are made at this factory, but for
the most part the material leaves the establishment in
the form of bolts, stamped and numbered.

This rough outline may perhaps have given a ge-
neral idea of these two branches of manufacture ;
partially connected in some of their earlier stages, and
closely connected in respect of their united importance
to shipping.

(Varn-dressing and Beaming Machine.]

Dec. 3, 1842.] THE PENNY

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[Riding to Market.]

IRISH SKETCHES.—No. III.

THE COUNTRY GIRL.

THE Sketch accompanying the present notice was taken
from a very pretty country lass, seated, as she is repre-
sented, on her pony, between two panniers, or kishes,
containing potatoes and a few eggs. The form of the
baskets will be seen to differ altogether from the ordi-
nary pannier: they are slung over a pad of twisted
straw by ropes of the same material. The dress of
the girl was the usual blue cloak, without either shoes
or bonnet. She seemed a person of respectability, a
little sun-burnt, and slightly freckled, with a mouth full
of white teeth, and bee lanieting light-grey eye thickly
fringed with long black eyelashes. She was what she
looked to be, asmall gardener’s or cottager’s daughter,
carrying her little stock to Bantry, where there was a
market. In making the sketch, it was not observed
till long afterwards that the girl was sitting on the
wrong side of the pony. When this was discovered,
the sketch was put aside as the unlucky selection of an
accidental rather than the ordinary mode of ladies’ tra-
velling; but on reading over Spenser, it was found
that this very point had been a matter of grave remon-
strance in the days of Elizabeth; and that the Irish
ladies, with ‘characteristic obstinacy, pleaded custom,
the habits of their mothers and grandmothers, and re-

No. 685.

fusing all advice, remained steadfast in their error.
“« Moreover, the manner of their women riding on the
wrong side of the horse, J mean with their faces to the
right side, as the Irish use, is (as they say) old Spanish.
and some say African, for so amongst them the women,
they say, used to ride.””*

This sort of pannier is used all over the south and
west of Ireland for the carriage of eggs, potatoes, turf,
&c. When lifted out of its swing, it is set on its end
by the hearth, and serves as a receptacle for the turf
used for firing, and is called a turf-kish. A woman
from Cork may be met with a basket of this kind
swung across her back thirty miles from home, col-
lecting eggs from the cottages, which she carries to
Cork for sale, often knitting as she goes on her solitary
pilgrimage.

Whatever may be the case as to the mode of riding,
the cloak is not likely to go out of fashion ; but in other
parts of Irish female costume the cheapness of cot-
ton prints has already effected some changes, and, it
may be added, improvements, since greater cleanliness
is promoted, The late Mr. Inglis, in his ‘ Journey
throughout Ireland,’ notices that for gowns Waterford
stuff used to be the common material, and a gown
made of this would last six or seven years; and during
all that time, the pin that fastened it up behind was

* Spenser’s ‘ View of the State of Ireland.

Vou. XIL—3 P

474 THE PENNY
never taken out.” When at Thomastown, county Kil- |
kenny, the same writer speaks of the fashions of a
country parish. and bears testimony to the universality
of the cloak. ‘“ Every woman,” he says, “ wears a
cloak; and the hood of every cloak is thrown over the
head, unless the cap underneath be an extremely smart
one, in which case the hood is allowed to fall a little
back; or if the cap be a non-such, it is altogether ex-
posed. The habit of covering the head appears to be
universal. If a girl is not possessed of a cloak, she
will borrow the shelter of an apron, or even of a petti-
coat, like the women of La Mancha.” Mr. Inglis saw
also a resemblance to the Spanish costume in the dress
of the men in this part of Ireland. The day was dry
and mild, but almost every man wore a greatcoat.

The greatcoat, however, and the fashion of wear-
ing it, are by no means modern innovations. John
Derrick, in ‘ The Image of Ireland,’ 1581, describes
both the cloak and the coat as follows :—

“ With jackets long and large,

Which shroud simplicity :

Though spiteful darts which they do bear
Import iniquity.

Their skirts be very strange,
Not reaching past the thigh;

With plaits on late they plaited are,
As thick as plaits may lie.

Whose sleeves hang trailing down
Almost unto the shoe ;

And with a mantle commonly
The Irish kerne do go.

Now some amongst the rest
Do use another weed :

A coat. I mean, of strange device,
Which fancy first did breed.

His skirts be very short,
With plaits set thick about.”

This is the same apparently as the “ jacket” before
mentioned. The trait of allowing the sleeves to hang
down unoccupied is a curious custom to have endured ,
so long.

USEFUL APPLICATIONS OF GEMS.

Tre hard specimens of stone, which by the common
consent of the majority of nations have always been
deemed ‘ gems,’ or ‘ precious stones,’ are susceptible of
several useful a oar iy Irrespective of the decora-
tive purpose to which they are generally applied. The
qualities which give to gems a practical value in the
arts and sciences are principally hardness and Aigh re-
Sractive power ; respecting both of which a few remarks
may here be offered.

The hardness of gems, by contributing to indestruc-
tibility, gives to them a considerable portion of their
value as a marketable commodity, and imparts to them,
as materials for manufacture, an importance which
counterbalances their excessive high price. The jewel-
ling of watches may be taken as an illustration. This
sewelling, as is well known, refers not to the external
adornment of a watch, but to the employment of jewels
for the bases of pivot-holes. Among the numerous
wheels and pinions employed in a watch, some are ro-
tatory to so vast an amount, that the ends of the pivots
Wear away any metallic substance in which the pivot
works; even the hardest steel gives way to this unin-
terrupted friction. Hence, in the best watches, jewels,
such as diamonds, rubies, sapphires, and chrysolites, are
employed, as being harder than any metal with which
we are acquainted, and therefore better prepared to
resist the wear by friction. |

Great aucun is experienced in working these hard
gems. To grind, polish, turn, drill, and set them into
the frame-work of a watch, requires all the skill of the
*watch-jeweller.” The process requires the aid of a

MAGAZINE [DECEMBER 5,

small lathe, small gravers, diamond-dust, small frag-
ments of diamond called ‘ bort,.’ and turning-tools made
by cementing small pieces of this ‘bort’ into a notch
made in the end of short brass wires fixed to a handle.
The phrase of “ diamond cut diamond” isa significant
one, for diamond forms the material of the cutting-tool
as well (generally) as that of the article operated on.
A little disk of copper has diamond fragments im-
bedded into its surface, and is made to revolve six or
seven thousand times per minute; and the workman,
holding the gem on the end of his finger, applics it to
the copper disk, the diamond fragments of which wear
down a flat surface on the gem. Then, reversing the
Position of the gem on the finger, another flat surface
is similarly produced, paralle] to the former. The
gem is then cemented to a lathe, and is actually turned
to the proper shape by the tools formed only of bits of
wire having fragments of diamond at their extremity.
Even yet is the diamond as a working tool not ex-
hausted ; for the hole in the gem, into which the pivot
is to work, is drilled either with a steel drill moistened
with diamond-powder and oil, or by a small fragment
of diamond which itself acts as a drill. Nothing can
better show the extreme hardness of the diamond than
its employment throughout the production of jewel-
holes. It will cut other stones, but is itself capable of
being cut only by itsclf,—at least that appears to be
the just inference from the proceedings of the jeweller.

Another very useful employment of the diamond is
for cutting glass. Here we have an example of the
fact that substances cut one another according to their
relative degrees of hardness. Glass may by long
usage be scratched by friction against metals, but ina
gencral way it cannot be cut or divided by them. Yet
glass, hard as it is, yields to the hardness of the dia-
mond and some other gems, and is cut by them. Glass
may be cut, or rather divided, by applying a heated
wire at a particular part, by which the cohesion of the
substance is lessened; but cutting by means of the

‘diamond is the only effectual method employed. It

is a curious consequence of the crystalline structure
of the diamond, that it will cut only when drawn in
one particular direction over the glass, that is, the
line of the cut must bear a certain relation to a cer-
tain edge of the gem. With the glaziers’ diamonds,
which were used until the last few years, there was a
difficulty in cutting the glass, owing to the uncertainty
of placing it at once in the proper angle, so as to make
it cut and not scratch. This led to the invention of
the ‘ patent diamond,’ in which the gem is go set that
the user is guided in holding it in the right position
by the handle into which it is fixed. ‘he diamonds
employed for this purpose are very small; but each
one will cut many miles of glass before it exhibits any
symptoms of being worn.

It may not perhaps be so generally known, but
gems have been and are now employed for the nibs of
pens. Pens madc of gold, with small rubies at the
nibs, have been known to be in constant use for many
years, without exhibiting any symptoms of wear. These

ns are said to write as fine as a crow-quill and as

rm as a 8swan-quill, to possess considerable elasticity,
and to produce avery uniform manuscript. Messrs.
Hawkins and Mordan, twenty years ago, patented a
contrivance for pens, in which the bulk of the pen was
made of tortoiseshell or horn; the material was cut
Into nibs, and these being softened in boiling water,
small fragments of diamond, ruby, or other precious
stone, were imbedded into them by pressure. To give
stability to the nibs, thin pieces of gold were affixed to
the tortoiseshell or horn ; and springs were occasionally
attached, to adapt the pen to the hand of the user,
eee to the amount of pressure exerted on it 10
the act of writing. It has been often asserted, and 18

1342.]

perhaps true, that pens of this costly character, if pre-
vented from collision with hard substances, and if
washed occasionally with soap and water, become,
from their long duration, really economical pens; but
the original cost is so great as to have prevented them
from coming into general use. It is for the preserva-
tion of these jewelled pens that Mr. Doughty some
years ago contrived an inkstand lined with India-
rubber, the soft texture of which prevents the nib of
the pen from injury when dipped into the inkstand.

A peculiarly valuable application of gems is in the
formation of lenses for microscopes, a mode of employ-
ment presenting many remarkable features. The pro-
perty which renders gems available for this purpose is
not their hardness, but their high refractive power.
By this term is meant a power of bending the rays of
light considerably out of the direction in which they
fall on a transparent body. In the common lens of a
telescope, a microscope, or a Pett of spectacles, the
refractive power of glass is made by imparting to the
substance a curved surface, to bring all the rays of light
to a focus or point, and in the two latter cases this may
be done with cunvenience ; but for microscopes of very
high magnifying power, the refraction of glassis scarcely
sufficient ; the lenses are obliged to be used with incon-
veniently short foci and very deep curves.

Hence it has been thought that by using gems instead
of glass, the high refractive power of the former would
enable the maker to have lenses of less deep curvature,
by which certain optical inconveniences would be
avoided. Sir David Brewster was, we believe, the
first to point out the advantages of this employment of
gems., Having experienced the greatest difficulty in
getting a small diamond cut into a particular form in
London, he did not at first conceive it gee to
give to the gem the rigorously curved form requisite
for a lens; and he for a time abandoned the project.
Dr. Goring and Mr. Pritchard, who have devoted much
time to the construction of microscopes, had their
attention drawn to the subject by Brewster’s remarks
concerning diamond lenses; and they agreed to make
the attempt of forming sucha lens. Mr. Pritchard’s
detail of his proceedings so remarkably illustrates the
difficulty of working even the smallest fragment of
diamond, that it may be well to notice it here.

Mr. Pritchard was told by some diamond-cutters
employed by a great London jeweller, that it was im-
possible to work a diamond into a spherical or Jens
form. He was thence driven to his own resources,
He began upon a small diamond, to which it was pro-
posed to give the curves which in glass would produce
a lens of 1-20th of an inch focus, with a proportion of
two to five in the radii of their surfaces. After great
labour and difficulty he ground both surfaces to the
proper curvature, and polished one of them, but un-
fortunately lost the diamond by some accident.

He then set about another, selecting a rose-cut
diamond, which, to save labour, he proposed to form
into a plano-convex instead of a double-convex lens,
that is, to have one side flat instead of both sides
curved. In the progress of working this stone, the
heat generated by friction repeatedly melted the shell-
lac cement by which the flat side was affixed to the
tool or lathe; and after many trials, he found that
when a little powdered pumice-stone was mixed with
the shell-lac, the cement was better able to resist the
fusing effect of the heat. He succeeded in working
the gem to the required form, and using it as the lens
of a microscope, ‘“ doubtless,” as he observes, “ the
first time this precious gem had been employed in
making manifest the hidden secrets of nature.” On
Mr. Pritchard oe a diamond lens thus made to
the professed diamond-workers, they candidly owned
that they were not acquainted with any means whereby

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

475

such a figure could be given to the diamond. No less
than fifty or sixty hours’ labour is required to grind a
tiny diamond into a double-convex form; and the mi-
nuteness of the whole affair may be judged from the
following remark of Mr. Pritchard :—‘‘ Notwithstand-
ing these difficulties, and the consequent expense and
labour they entailed on me before sufficiently expe-
rienced in working upon this refractory material with
certainty, I have now the satisfaction of being able, by
inspection @ priort, to decide whether a diamond is fit
fora magnifier or not; and have now executed two
plano-convex magnifiers of adamant, whose structure
Is quite perfect for microscopic purposcs. One of
these is about the terenticth of an inch focus, and is
now in the possession of his Grace the Duke of Buck-
ingham ; the other, in my hands, is the thirtieth of an
inch focus, and has consequently amplification cnough
for most practical purposes.”

Before Mr. Pritchard began the working of diainond
lenses, Sir David Brewster had succeeded in having
lenses formed of ruby and garnet by an optician of
Edinburgh ; and at subsequent periods he employed
garnet lenses made by several different artists. It may
at once occur to a reader to ask, “ How can a coloured
gem be available for a microscope lens?” On this
point Sir David Brewster remarks, after stating that
the garnet lenses exhibit minute objects with admi-
rable accuracy and precision :—‘“ We can state with
confidence that we have never experienced the slightest
inconvenience from the colour of the garnet, which
diminishes with its thickness, and consequently disap-
pears almost wholly in very minute lenses.”

The sapphire is, in refractive power and many other
properties, nearly allied to the ruby, differing froin it
chiefly in colour; and Mr. Pritchard has formed many
lenses of sapphire, which, though inferior to those of
diamond, are said to be vastly superior to any made of
glass for microscopic purposes. The relative powers
of the three substances, diamond, sapphire, and glass,
as microscopic lenses, may perhaps be conveniently
shown in this way: that if the curvature, or the focal
distance of a glass lens, be reckoned as 3, then the cur-
vature or focal distance of a sapphire lens having the
same magnifying power will be 5, and of the diamond
lens 8; the gem lenses being thinner, and having their
focal points farther off, than the glass Jens. One useful
effect of the longer focal distance in a gem lens to pro-
duce the saine power is this, that in small lenses of
glass the thickness of the glass is such that there is no
room between its anterior surface and the object for
the admission of instruments for dissection, and not
even for the thinnest plate of glass; so that it is im-
possible to use glass lenses of small foci in viewing
objects placed in glass sliders.

It may not be amiss to mention that the high refrac-
tive power of gems, particularly the diamond, by which
they are fitted for microscopic application, is in itself
one of the chief sources of their brillianey and beauty,
for which they are sought after with such avidity as
personal ornaments. The mode in which light, falling
on a transparent substance, is pus reflected from the
surface and partly transmitted through the body, de-
oe greatly on the refractive power, the reflected

ight being proportionally more brilliant as the refrac-

tive power becomes higher. Whena gem is worn as an
ornament, we do not see through it, for it is generally
backed by some opaque substance: we become cog-
nisant of its beauty by the light reflected from it; and
this light is more abundant from a piece of diamond
than from a piece of glass of the same size and shape.
If we were to hold a diamond between a strong light
and the eye, it would appear less luminous than a piece
of glass, and we should by no means perceive that
beauty which the gem presents by cae ae

476

ui) 1 alate 2 ‘ii
(3 een

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

_(DeEcEmBER 3

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(The Char—Salmo alpinus.]

THE CHAR.

Tue habits of the salmon genus are more diversified
than those of many other fish, and hence they have
naturally attracted greater observation; but notwith-
standing this, the number of those who are able to dis-
tinguish the different species and varieties is small.
Even in the same water there may be found singular
varieties of the same species, originally occasioned, as
Sir Humphry Davy suggests in his ‘ Salmonia,’ b

food, peculiarities of water, &c.; the qualities whic

these produce being, as he observes, “ transmitted to
the offspring, and produce varieties which retain their
characters as long as they are exposed to the same cir-
cumstances, and only slowly lose them.” He adds,
“ Plenty of good food gives a silvery colour and round
form to fish, and the ing retain these charactefs.
Feeding on shell-fish thickens the stomach, and in
many generations, probably, the gillarro-trout becomes
so distinct a variety as to render it doubtful if it be not
a distinct species.” Again, salmon at different ages
undergoes changes which render the identification of
the species one of considerable difficulty. In No. 334
we have stated the difficulties which attend this task.
The char is the least common of the salmon genus.
When Walton published his ‘ Angler,’ he stated his
belief that it was only found in Lake Windermere; but
it is now known to be more widely distributed. Other
English lakes besides Windermere contain char ; and
it is found in the lakes in Wales, in the Scotch lochs,
and in Lough Esk in Ireland. The lakes of the Tyrol
are famous for char. Speaking of the char, Sir H.
Davy says,—“ They generally haunt deep cool lakes,
and are seldom found at the surface till late in the
autumn.” At this period they will take either fly or
minnow, and he mentions as something remarkable
having caught a char in summer in one of the beauti-
ful, small, deep lakes of the Upper Tyrol, “ but it was
where a small cool stream entered from the mountain ;

and the fish did not rise, but swallowed the artificial
fly under water.”

The char is a very beautiful fish as well as excellent
for the table, combining the flavour of the trout with
that of the mullet. It is a great delicacy when potted.
In No. 517 there will be found a very ample account
of the char and char-fishing, by a Westmoreland corre-
spondent well qualified to write on the subject, and
we cannot do better than refer the reader to his
account.

As it may be some time before we again notice any
of our British Fishes, we take the opportunity of
giving Sir Humphry Davy’s summary of the various
attractions of angling, and the reasons why it has not
unfrequently been pursued with ardour by poets and
pepo an :—‘ The search after food is an instinct

elonging to our nature ; and from the savage in his
rudest and most primitive state, who destroys a piece
of game, ora fish, with a club or spear, to man in the
most cultivated state of society, who employs artifice,
machinery, and the resources of various other animals,
to secure his object, the origin of the pleasure is
similar, and its object the same: but that kind of it
requiring most art may be said to characterize man in
his highest or intellectual state; and the fisher for
salmon and trout with the fly employs not only ma-
chiuery to assist his physical powers, but applies
sagacity to conquer difficulties; and the pleasure
derived from ingenious resources and devices, as well
as from active pursuit, belongs to this amusement.
Then as to its philosophical tendency, it is a pursuit
of moral discipline, requiring patience, forbearance,
and command of temper. As connected with natural
science, it may be vaunted as demanding a knowledge
of the habits of a considerable tribe of created beings
—fishes, and the animals that they prey upon, and an
sets gga with the signs and tokens of the weather
and its changes, the nature of waters, and of the
atmosphere. As to its poetical relations, it carries us

1842.1

into the most wild and beautiful scenery of nature ;
amongst the mountain lakes, and the clear and lovely
streams that gush from the higher ranges of elevated
hills, or that make their way through the cavities of
calcareous strata. How delightful in the early spring,
after the dull and tedious time of winter, when the
frosts disappear and the sunshine warms the earth and
waters, to wander forth by some clear stream, to see
the leaf bursting from the purple bud, to scent the
vdours of the bank perfumed by the violet, and
enamelled, as it were, with the primrose and the daisy;
to wander upon the fresh turf below the shade of
trees, whose bright blossoms are filled with the music
of the bee; and on the surface of the waters to view
the gaudy flics sparkling like animated gems in the
sunbeams, whilst the bright and beautiful trout is
watching them from below; to hear the twittering of
the water-birds, who, alarmed at your approach,
rapidly hide themselves beneath the flowers and leaves
of the water-lily ; and as the season advances, to find
all these objects changed for others of the same kind,
but better and brighter, till the swallow and the trout
contend as it were for the gaudy May-fly, and till, in
pursuing your amusement in the calm and balmy
evening, you are serenaded by the songs of the cheer-
tul thrush and melodious nightingale, performing the
offices of paternal love, in thickets ornamented with
the rose and woodbine !”

PLANTS USED IN DYEING YELLOW.

In glancing at some of the more important plants used
to produce a yellow dye, it will be sufficient to confine
our attention principally to eeld, fustic, quercitror-
bark, turmerte, and annotto, the remaining kinds being
of more limited application.

Weld is a plant of which the leaf and stem yield
the colouring-matter employed by the dyer, the stem
rising from one to three feet in height. It is a native
of Britain; it flowers in June and July, and ripens its
seeds in August and September. It is cultivated ina
few places in England, especially Essex, and is said to
have this advantage to the farmer over all other colour-
ing plants, that it only requires to be taken up and
dried, when itis fit for the dyer. Mr. Loudon states
that weld will grow on any soil, but that fertile loams
produce the best crops. When the soil is prepared, the
seed is sown in April or the beginning of May, gene-
rally broad-cast, the quantity being from two quarts to
a gallon per acre. Being a biennial, and no advantage
being obtained from it the first year, it is sometimes
sown with corn crops in the manner of clover: but the
best crops are obtained by cultivating the weld alone.
It is usual to thin the plants to six or eight inches
mutual distance. The crop is taken by pulling up the
entire plant; and the proper period is when the blooin
has been produced the whole length of the stem, and
the plants are just beginning to turn of a hght or yel-
lowish colour. Some cultivators pull it rather early,
without waiting for the ripening of the seeds; because
the quantity of dye yielded is thought to be larger, and
the land is then sooner ready fur other purposes. The
plants are drawn up by the roots in small handfuls:
and after each handful has been tied up with one of
the stalks, they are set up in groups of four in an erect
position, and left to dry. Sometimes, however, they
become sufficiently dry by turning without being sct
up. After they have remained till fully dry, which is
mostly effected in a week oy two, they are bound up
into large bundles, each containing sixty handfuls, and
weighing fifty-six pounds. Sixty of these bundles
make a load. In this state it is sold to the dyers, who
make a decoction from the dried plants.

A decoction of weld, if strong, has a brownish-yellow

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477

colour, and when diluted with water it acquires a
shade of green. The addition of certain alkalies, acids,
and salts gives to this decoction almost every shade of
yellow; and a yellow precipitate is obtained under
some circumstances. eld is preferred to all other
substances in giving a lively green lemon-yellow, and
is used also in dyeing silk of a golden yellow colour.
Blue cloths are dipped in the decoction to produce
green. It was formerly much used in calico-printing,
but has been gradually nearly displaced in this de-
partment by quercitron-bark.

Fustic is a wood whose colour has given it a name
in many different countries; such as the German,
gelbholz; the Dutch, geelhout; the French, bois jaune ;
and the Italian, legno giallo; all implying ‘ yellow
wood.’ The fustic-tree, sometimes called the ‘ dyers’
mulberry-tree,’ is a native of Jamaica and other West
India islands, It grows most abundantly about Cam-
peachy, whence the wood is imported in great quantity
as a dye ingredient. Sloane describes the tree as
having a large and straight trunk, sixty feet or more
in height, with long and large roots; the bark of the
trunk is light brown, with yellow clefts; and the wood
is very firm and solid, and of a fine yellow colour. In
an ‘ Essay on the Slave Trade’ written by Mr. Clark-
son nearly sixty years ago, a tree is described which
may possibly be a species of the one here mentioned,
though we are not aware that it has ever been deter-
mined. He says,—‘ A gentleman, resident upon the
coast of Africa, ordered some woud to be cut down to
erect a hut. Whilst the people were felling it he was
standing by, and during the operation some juice flew
froin the bark of it, and stained one of the ruffles of
his shirt. He thought that the stain would have
washed out; but on wearing it again he found that the
yellow spot was much more bright and beautiful than
before, and that it gained a lustre every subsequent
time of washing. Pleased with the discovery, he sent
home a small sample of the bark, which, pruduced a
valuable yellow dye.”

Ever since the discovery of America, fustic-wood
has been used in dyeing, as appears by a paper written
by Sir Wilham Petty in the ‘ Philosophical Transac-
tions.’ Its price is moderate, the colour it imparts is
permanent, and it readily combines with indigo, which
rendcrs it a valuable substance for green dyes. Before
it can be employed as a dye-stuff, it is cut into chips
and put into a bag, that it may not tear the woven
fabric to which it is to impart colour. When a strong
decoction of the wood is prepared, the colour is of a
reddish yellow; and when diluted it is of an orange
yellow. The colouring-matter is very easily yielded
to water. The addition of acids turns it to a paler yel-
low, and various metallic salts throw down a precipi-
tate of a yellow or greenish ycllow tint. The consump-
tion of this wood in England is about six thousand
tons a year, the price varying from about eight to
twelve pounds per ton.

Some coufusion has arisen'in the name fustic, from
there being two kinds, called ‘old’ and ‘ young
fustic; the former of which is the fustic-tree just
spoken of; while the latter is the Venice sumach, a
shrub of a totally different kind. The cause of mis-
nomer issupposed by Dr. Bancroft to have been this :—
Venice sumach, called in France fustet, was known
and employed as a yellow dye long before the Ameri-
can tree was known in Europe, and was introduced
ainong the English dyecrs by the name of fustic. Then,
when at a later period they became acquainted witk
an American tree yielding a yellow dye, they appear to
have given the same name to it, and to have made a
distinction by calling the shrub ‘ young fustic,’ and the

lant ‘eld fustic.. Botanically there is no ground
or this nomenclature.

478

Quercitron-bark was first introduced as a yellow-dye
ingredient by Dr. Bancroft about seventy ycars ago.
He obtained a patent for the discovery in 1775; but
the American war breaking out soon afterwards, he
was deprived of its advantages. Jn consideration of
this circumstance, parliament passed an Act in 1785,
securing to him the privileges conveyed by his patent
for fourteen years. At the expiration of the Jatter
period the House of Commons agreed to extend the
privilege for an additional period of seven years; but
the House of Lords rejected the bil]. The result was
that Dr. Bancroft reaped but little benefit from a dis-
covery which has been largely beneficial to our manu-
facturers.

This material is the bark of the Quercus nigra, or
Quercus tinctoria. The bark consists of three coats: a
black exterior, which Bancroft supposes to have con-
cealed from Linnezus the yellow colouring-matter ;
secondly, a middle or cellular coat, in which the
colouring-matter principally resides ; and thirdly, an
interior or cortical part, containing a smaller portion
of yellow substance. The exterior blackish coat affords
a little of the yellow; but as this is impure and of a
more dull colour, the black coating is shaved or scraped
from the remainder. When this is done, and the re-
maining cellular and cortical parts are ground by mill-
stones, they will separate partly into a light fine pow-
der, and partly into stringy filaments or fibres, which
last yield but about half as much colour as the powder.
The two component parts, namely, the fibre and the
powder, are recommended to be used in the same pro-
portions in which they occur in the tree, as affording
the means of obtaining the greatest quantity of the
colouring substance. Bancroft states that the quer-
citron-bark will yield, weight for weight, eight times
as much colouring-substance as weld, and four times
as much as fustic. This colouring-matter is readily
extracted by hot water, and is said to weigh about
one-twelfth part of the bark from which it has been
obtained. «

Annotto or Anatto is a yellow colouring-substance
which has gained notoriety rather for its property of
dycing or tinting checse and butter, than for dyeing
cloth; but it has been long used for the latter purpose
likewise. It is a kind of red paste obtained from the
berries of the bixa orellana, a South American plant.
This plant produces oblong hairy pods, somewhat
resembling those of the chestnut, and within each of
these are thirty or forty oe yee seeds,
enveloped in a pulp of a bright red colour and un-
pensent smell. This pulp was formerly used as paint

y some of the Indians; but it is now made com-
mercially valuable. The seeds, together with the red
tough matter that surrounds them, are softened with
water in a wooden trough, until the kernels are
separated from the Pulp by a kind of fermentation,
which is accompanied by a very nauseous smell. The
mass is then strained through a sieve, and boiled :
upon which a thick reddish scum separates, and it is
this which forms the colouring-substance. After
being skimmed and cooled, it is moulded into roundish
lumps, wrapped round with leaves of trees, and packed
for sale. Another mode of procuring the colouring-
matter is by steeping the pods in boiling water, ex-
tracting the seeds, and leaving the pulp to subside ;
the fluid being subsequently drawn off, the residuum,
with which oil is sometimnes mixed up, is placed in
shallow vessels and gradually dried in the shade.

The annotto of commerce is of two kinds, viz. flag
or cake, and roll annotto. The first is the most im-

ortant, and is furnished almost wholly by Cayenne;
it comes to us principally by way of the United States,
in square cakes weighing two or three pounds each,
and wrapped in banana-leaves. When well made it is

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

[December 3,

of a bright yellow colour, soft to the touch, and of a
good consistence. It is used by the dyers for impart-
ing a deep orange tint to silk and cotton; and we
might thus have included it among the red dyes, but
it has been ranked by Dr. Thomson among the yellow
series. In fact it has been found by Chevreul that
annotto contains two different colouring-matters, the
one yellow and the other red. The yellow colouring-
matter is soluble in water and alcohol, and slightly in
ether. The red colouring-matter is scarcely soluble
in water, but it dissolves in alcohol and ether, com-
municating to these liquids an orange-red colour. The
dye which annotto gives to silk and cotton is said to be
rich and brilliant, but not permanent.

It is the flag or cake annotto which is used by the
dyer. The roll annotto, brought principally froin
Brazil in small rolls not exceeding two or three ounces
in weight, is hard, dry, compact, brownish on the out-
side, and of a beautiful red within. Of the roll
annotto Mr. M‘Culloch states, “ it is the best of all
ingredients for the colouring of cheese and butter, and
is now extensively used for that purpose in all the
British and in some of the continental dairies. In
Gloucestershire it is the practice to allow an ounce of
annotto to a hundredweight of cheese; in Cheshire
eight pennyweights ‘are reckoned sufficient for a
cheese of sixty pounds. When genuine, it neither
affects the taste nor the smell of cheese or buttcr
The Spanish Americans mix annotto with their cho-
colate, to which it imparts a beautiful tint.”

Turmeric is the root of a tree called the curcuma
longa, growing principally ‘in Bengal, Java, and
China. It is externally greyish, and internally of a
deep lively yellow or saffron colour, very hard, and
not much unlike ginger in size and shape. It hasa
slightly aromatic and not very agreeable smell; and 2
bitterish, slightly acrid, and somewhat warm taste. It
readily gives dut its colouring ingredient both to
water and to spirit, communicating to the former a
deep yellow, and to the latter a fine yellowish red tint.
Turmeric was formerly in considerable estimation as
a medicine ; but in Europe it is now employed almost
solely as a dye. It yields a beautiful bright yellow
colour, which, however, is extremely fugitive, and
no means have been hitherto discovered of fixing it.
It is sometimes employed to heighten the yellows made
with weld, and to give an orange tint to scarlet.

There are numerous plants employed in a limited
degree to impart a yellow dye, or to assist other in-
gredients in effecting it. One of these is saw-wort
(serratula tinctoria), which affords a good substitute for
weld in some departments of dyeing, in which it com-
municates a bright lemon colour of considerable dura-
bility. The unripe berries of the rhamnus infectorius,
called‘ French berries,’ are sometimes employed for
imparting a lively yellow; but it is so fugitive, that
the use of this substance is but little extended. A plant
called ‘dyers’ broom’ is occasionally employed in dyeing
stuffs of the coarser kinds. So also are the bark of the
American hickory, the leaves of the sweet-willow
the seeds of the purple trefoil, saffron, chamomile,
sumach, the three-leaved hellebore, and other plants.
But all these are of such partial application that they
need not be dwelt on. eld, fustic, and quercitron
are the three principal plants yielding a yellow dyc.
The mineral yellows, of which chromate of lead 1s very
valuable to the calico-printer, we do not propose tv
notice here.

TITLES OF HONOUR.

Tities of Honour are words or phrases which certain
persons are entitled to claim as their right, in conse
quence of certain dignities nae inherent in them.
They vary in a manner corresponding to the variety ©

1842.]

the dignities, or, in other words, with the rank of the
possessor, Thus Emperor, King, Czar, Prince, are
titles of honour, and the possessors of the high dignities
represented by these words are, by the common con-
sent of the civilized world, entitled to be so denomi-
nated, and to be addressed by such terms as Your
Majesty and Your Royal Highness. These are the
terms used in England, and the phrases in use in other
countries of Europe do not much differ from them.
In fact one European nation scems to have borrowed
from another, or all to have taken their titles of honour
for this exalted rank from a common original; so that
little of the peculiar genius of the European nations
can be traced in the terms by which they show their
respect fur the persons of highest dignity. But it is
different when we come to compare them with the
Oriental nations. In those seats of antient civilization
the most extravagant terms of compliment are in use,
and a little sovereign of a wandering tribe rejoices in
titles of honour, numerous and inflated in the highest
degree. Jn the series of Roman emperors, the word
Cesar, originally the name of a family, became a title
of honour; Augustus was another; and Pater Patri
a third.

The five orders of nobility in England are distin-
guished by the titles of honour, Duke, Marquis, Earl,
Viscount, and Baron: and the persons in whom the
dignity of the peerage inheres are entitled to be de-
signated by these words; and if in any legal proceed-
ings they should be otherwise designated, there would
be a misnomer by which the procecdings would be
vitiated, just as when a private person is wrongly
described in an indictment; that 1s, the law or the
custom of the realm guarantees to them the possession
of these terms of honour, as it does of the dignities to
which they correspond. They are also entitled to be
addressed by such phrases as My Lord, My Lord Mar-
quis, My Lord Duke; and they have usually prefixed
to their titles, properly so called, certain phrases, as
High and Mighty Prince, Most Noble, Right Honour-
able, varying with the kind and degree of the dignity
possessed by them. The other members of the families
of peers have also their titles of honour. Thus the
lady of a peer has rank and titles corresponding with
those of the husband. Ali the sons and daughters of
peers are Honourable, but the daughters of earls and
peers of a higher dignity are entitled to the distinction
of being called ay and the younger sons of dukes
and marquises are by custom addressed as My Lord.

The orders of nobility in other European countries
differ little from our own. They have their Dukes,
Marquises, Counts, Viscounts, and Barons. We can-
not enter into the nice distinctions in the dignities of
foreign nations, or in the titles of honour which corre-
spond to them.

Another dignity which brings with it the right toa
title of honour is that of knighthood. This dignity is
of very antient origin, and, in the form in which we
now see it, may be traced far into the depths of the
middle ages, if it be not, as some suppose, a continu-
ation of the Equites of Rome. Persons on whom this
honour is conferred take rank above the gentlemen
and esquires, and are entitled to the prefix Sir to their
former name and surname. Their wives also are
entitled to prefix the word Dame, and to be addressed
by the compellation Your Ladyship or My Lady.
The Knights of particular Orders, as of the Garter,
the Thistle, St. Patrick, the Bath, are a kind of
select number of the body of the knighthood, and the
name of the Order to which they belong is ordinarily
used by and of them, and thus becomes of the nature
of a title of honour. The Bannerets of former ages
were a class of knights superior to the ordinary knight-
bachelor, forming in fact an Order intermediate

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

479

between the knight, in its ordinary sense, and the
baron. The Baronet, which is quite a new dignity,
not having been known before the reign of James I.,
has, besides its name, which is placed after the name
and surname of the person spoken of, the privilege of
prefixing Sir; and their wives are entitled to the pre-
fix of Dame, and to be addressed as My Lady and
Your Ladyship.

Besides these, there are the ecclesiastical dignities
of Bishop and Archbishop, which bring with them the
right to certain titles of honour besides the phrases by
which the dignity itself is designated. And custom
seems to have sanctioned the claim of the persons who
inferior dignities in the church to certain

onourable titles or compellations, and it is usual to
bestow on all persons who are admitted into the
clerical order the title of Reverend.

There are also academical distinctions which are of
the nature of titles of honour, although they are not
usually considered to fall under the denomination.
Municipal offices have also titles accompanying them ;
and in the law there are very eminent offices the names
of which become titles of honour to the possessors of
them, and which bring with them the right to certain
terms of distinction. »

All titles of honour appear to have been originally
names of office. The earl in England had in former
ages substantial duties to perform in his county, as
the sheriff (the Vice-Comes or Vice-Earl) has now ;
but the name has remained now that the peculiar
duties are gone, and so it is with respect to other
dignities. The emperor or king, the highest dignit
known in Europe, still performs the duties whic
originally belonged to the office, or at least the most
aa gee of them, as well as enjoys the rank, dignity,
and honours; and on the Continent there are dukes
and earls who have still an important political
character.

Some of these dignities and the titles correspondent
to them are hereditary. So were the eminent offices
which they designate in the remote ages, when there
were duties to be performed. Hence hereditary titles.

The distinction which the possession of titles of
honour gives in society has always made them objects of
ambition ; and it may be questioned whether, as far as
there has been any feeling in operation besides that of
a sense of duty, the great exertions which are made in
the service of the country are not stimulated les:s by
the expectation of ‘pasty reward, than by the hope
of receiving one of these titles of honour which shall
descend to a man’s posterity. They cost nothing; iand
hence it is that titles of honour have been called “ the
cheap defence of nations.”

Whoever wishes to study this subject in all its details
will do well to resort to two great works: one, the
late ‘ Reports of the Lords’ Committees on the dignity
of the Peerage;’ the other, the large treatise on
‘ Titles of Honour,’ by the learned Selden. The latter
was first printed in 4to., 1614; again, with large
additions, folio, 1631.

Artificial Lakes in Ceylon.—The Candelay Lake is situater
within thirty miles of Trincomalee, in an extensive and broad
valley, around which the ground gradually ascends towards the
distant hills that envelop it. In the centre of the valley, a long
causeway, principally made of masses of rock, has been con-
structed to retain the waters that from every side pour into the
space enclosed within the circumjacent hills and the artificial
dam thus formed. During the rainy season, when the lake at-
tains its greatest elevation, the area of ground over which the in-
undation extends may be computed at fifteen square miles.
This work of art, and others of nearly equally gigantic propor-
tions in the island, sufficiently indicate that at some remote period
Ceylon wasa densely-populated country, and under a govern-
ment sufficiently enlightened to appreciate, and firm to enforce

480

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

[DECEMBER 3,

the execution of an undertaking which, to men iguorant of me- | of water is poured on the buming materials. At one moment,

chanical powers, must have been an Herculean operation; for,
such is the capricious nature of the mountain-streams in this
tropical island, where heavy rain frequently falls without inter-
mission for many successive days, that no common barrier would
suffice to resist the great and sudden pressure that must be sus-
tained on such occasions. Aware of this peculiarity in the cha-
racter of their rivers, the Cingalese built the retaining-wall that
supports the waters of the lake of Candelay with such solidity
and massiveness as to defy the utmost fury of the mountain-tor-
rents. Nearly the whole of its extent is formed with vast hewn
masses of rock, to move which by sheer physical force must have
required the united labour of thousands. In more favoured lands,
the object to be gained would by no means compensate for the
toil and time requisite for the damming of a valley by a cause-
way two miles in extent; but in Ceylon, Nature, although boun-
tiful in all other respects, is alternately lavish and chary of the
element whereon the labours of agriculture mainly depend. In
the eastern provinces, incessant rains are succeeded by long-con-
tinued droughts, during which the fiery rays of the sun suck up
the innumerable rills that in the wet season spread over the face
of the country. The largest rivers in this part of the island then
subside into petty rivulets; and there being no natural lakes or
large sheets of water, the necessity of supplying the want of these
by the labours of art becomes apparent. Hence the Cingalese
have, from the earliest periods, been attentive to the formation
of artificial reservoirs, wherever they could be advantageously
constructed ; and the lakes of Candelay, Minere, Bawaly, and
many others of less note, attest the energy and perseverance of
the ancient islanders in such constructious—De Butt's Rambles
in Ceylon.

A London Fire.—Of all the rallying words whereby mul-
titudes are gathered together, and their energies impelled forcibly
to one point, that of ‘Fire!’ is, perhaps, the most startling and
the most irresistible. It levels all distinctions; it sets at nought
sleep, and meals, and occupations, and amusements; it turns
night into day, and Sunday into a ‘working-day;’ it gives
double strength to those who are blessed with any energy, and
paral yses those who have none; it brings into promiuent notice,
and converts into objects of sympathy, those who were before little
thought of, or who were perhaps despised ; it gives to the dwellers
in a whole huge neighbourhood the unity of one family. There
are probably but few inhabitants of London who have not, at
some time or other, witnessed a ‘fire,’ or experienced the awful
emotions attendant on it. The wild cry which breaks the still-
ness of’ sleep, and arouses young and old in the dead of the night,
is perhaps as terrible as the scene which the eye is afterwards
callecl upon to witness; the uncertainty as to the locality of the
catas!rophe, and the probable suffering of those who are near and
dear to us, gives to the first waking moment an undefined, but
intense terror, When we gain the spot, perhaps only a few
houses removed from us, we may see the glimmerings of light in
an vipper window, and perhaps a poor startled inmate entreating
for succour, A_ crowd sraduatly collects, night-patroles or
policemen assume the guidance below, and everybody calls out
to ewerybody else to go somewhere or do something for the re-
Jea:se of the sufferers. In ashort time we hear an engine dashing
through the neighbouring streets: perhaps it is a ‘half-pint’
pa rish engine, eagerly urged on as a means of gaining the prof-
fered reward for tirst arrival; but more probably it is one of the
Fire Brigade engines. The turncock is aroused, the hase of the
e1 gine applied to the plug, and men and boys (of whom there
au! :e always plenty at a fire) are hired at sixpence an hour to work
tlae engine. Then does the bold fireman force an entry into the
Tiapless house, and combat his fiery foe at close quarters—a
1 0table improvement, by the bye, introduced by Mr. Braidwood ;
tore hazardous, but more efiectual than the old method of
pouring a stream from without through a window to fall whither
it may. Then may we mark how the firemen, neglecting the
mere furniture of the house, look first to the safety of the in-
mates, and then to the extinguishment of the fire itself; and we
may contrast with this the senseless terror which prompts the in-
dwellers, before the arrival of the firemen, to turn everything
literally ‘ out of wiudow ;’ to hurl looking-glasses, tables, chairs,
tw the ground, where they are of course dashed to pieces, without
service being rendered to any one—unless, indeed, it may be of
that kind which is called ‘spiting an enemy,’ the tire heing con-
sidered as such. The fire increases in intensity; the roused

inmates find an asvlum in the house of a neighbour; and a fluod

when a portion falls in, the glare is deadened; at the next, the
flame bursts forth with redoubled energy. More aud more
engines tear along to the lurid spot; more and more spectators
assemble ; every one asks, and no one can answer, how the fire
arose? Are they all saved? Are they insured? As time pro-
gresses, so do the terrible apprehensions of the neighbours, each
adjoining house becoming in turn the object of solicitude. As
the bulk of ignited material increases, so does the distance at which
the conflagration is visible, and so also the field of terror and solici-
tude. There isa singular difference in the manner in which fires are
regarded by the populace in different countries, Without allud-
ing to the fatalism of the Turks, which lamentably damps their
energies at such a time, we may notice a difference in this matter
between the Londoners and the Parisians. Some few years ago the
London correspondent of the French newspaper ‘ Le Temps’ gave
the following paragraph :—“ There is something imposing in the
spectacle of a fire in this metropolis. The English people, com-
motily so phlegmatic, su slow, sc morbid, seem, in the twinkling of
an eye, wholly to change character. What selt-possession, what
order, under circumstances so painful and difficult! Accus-
tomed as I have been to similar scenes in Paris, I could previously
form no idea of the astonishing promptitude with which assist-
ance the most efficacious was at once organized. I compared
our wretched little engines, dragged with difficulty over the
pavement of Paris by our brave pomprers, already half dead with
that fatigue before the real occasion for their exertion begins—I
compared those with the powerful pump-engines brought to the
spot by four powerful horses at full gallop, and the firemen
sitting at their case on the engines. I thought of the wild con-
fusion of our chains—of the cries of all the workmen—of our
leathern buckets brought empty to the engine,—while I saw
before me the water pouring, the streets inundated, and the pipes,
like brilliant yets d'eas, lit up by countless torches, and rising
above the crowd as a symbol of safety to a man in the midst of
dangers from fire. With us every passer-by is stopped to work the
engine ; here, the difficulty is to prevent the people from so
doing.” Improvements have been made in the fire establishment
at Paris since the above remarks were written.— London.

Advantages of an Improved Population.—In the Sanitary Re-
port Mr. Chadwick establishes the very important fact that
pecuniary interest even is connected with the highest physical
and moral improvement of the lowest of the labouring classes.
Mr. Smith, of Jeanston, having effected some important improve-
ments in the economy of his factory, found the advantage of such
arrangements. ‘* The improved health of the workpeople was at-
tended by more energy and better labour; by less of lassitude
and waste from relaxed attention; by fewer interruptions from
sickness, and fewer spare hands to ensure the completion of work.”
Mr. Chadwick adduces another gratifying instance of the same
kind, where improved tenements had been erected and superior
provisions made for education ; and the proprietor acknowledged
that, “although he made the improvements from motives of a
desire to improve the condition of his workpeople, or what might
be termed the satisfaction derived from the improvements as a
‘hobby,’ he was surprised by a pecuniary gain found in the
superior order and efficiency of his establishment, in the regu-
larity and trustworthiness of his workpeople, which gave even
pecuniary compensation for the outlay of capital and labour
bestowed upon them. He stated that he would not for 70U0/
change the entire ret of workpeople on whom care had been
bestowed, for the promiscuous assemblage of work people engaged
in the same description of manufactures.”

Effects of Culture——TYhe almond, with its tough coriaceous
husk, has been changed by long culture into the peach, with its
beautiful, soft, and delicious pulp; the acrid sloe into the lus-
cious plum; and the harsh, bitter crab, into the golden pippin.
Attention to nutrition has produced quite as marked changes in
the pear, cherry, and other fruit-trees; many of which have not
only been altered in their qualities and appearance, but even in
their habits. Celery, so agreeable to most palates, is a modifica-
tion of the apium graveolens, the taste of which is so acrid and
bitter that it cannot be eaten. Our cauliflowers and cabbages,
which weigh many poundg, are largely-developed coleworts, that
grow wild on the sea-shore, and do not weigh more than half an
ounce each, The rose has been produced by cultivation from
the eommon wild-vriar. Many plants may be moditied with
advantage, by suppressing the growth of one part, which causes
increased development of other parts—Dr. Truman on Food.

1842.]

—— =

a ew
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may. SAN

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( Froissart presenting his book of Amours and Moralities fo Richard IT,]

FROISSART AND HIS CHRONICLE.

No. XI.

A Few years after his visit to Gaston de Foix, the his-
torian determined to visit England. He was now
nearly sixty years of age, but his spirit was as young
and indefatigable as ever. Tt is im ible to behold
without admiration the finwearied diligence of Frois-
sart to make his great history correct, or without sym-
pathy the enthusiasm which made the most toilsome
journeys only so many laboursof love. As an instance
of the former quality, so indispensable to writers who
would honestly assume all the serious responsibilities
of history, we may here mention an interesting anec-
dote. en, about 1390, he began the composition of
his third volume, in which he had to write of the wars

no. 686.

THE PENNY MAGAZINE. a3

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SAAS
ayy

of Castile, he suddenly remembered that his materials,
however ample, had been received from Spaniards
and their allies the Gascons only; so he stays his
narratioy till he obtained the views and statements

fof the other party so materially concerned — the

Portuguese. On inquiry he learns that some Por-
tuguese are at Bruges; he goes thither, where he is
informed that a knight of that nation, “a valiant and
wise man, and of the council of the king of Portugal,”
had just arrived at Middleburgh in Zealand, in his way
to Prussia, to join in the war against the Turkish in-
fidels. To Middleburgh immediately starts Froissart,
where he finds the knight, and is well received by
him. Froissart now obtains such abundant informa-
tion, that he immediately returns to his own country
to finish his volume, and to leave on record his delight
at the results of the journey he had taken. Of the
number and variety of his journeys it is difficult to
form a sufficiently just conception, unless perhaps by
the statement, that wherever there was anything ot
more than ordinary moment going on in Europe, there
in all probability would Froissart be. It may not be
uninteresting to trace his known movements for two

or three years after leaving Orthes. .He departed froin
thence in the train of ‘er Countess of Boulogne, who
Digitized by OOF CXL—3 Q

482

took the route of Avignon, to see the pope, her
kinsman, at which place, by the way, Froissart was
robbed. From Avignon he went to Auvergne, where
the countess met her affianced husband, the Duke of
Berri, and where they were married. Froissart com-
posed a pastoral in honour of the event. He next went
to Paris, and from thence with the Lord de Coucy to
his castle of Crevecceur, just given him by the French
king. From this nobleman he learnt the particulars of
the negociations going on between England and
France. A flying visit to his native place, Hainault,
took up the next fortnight or so, when he went to see
his patron the Count of Blois, in Holland, to whom he
told all the history of his travels since they had last
parted. He afterwards went to Paris, where he wit-
nessed the splendid entrance of Isabel of Bavaria,
prior to her marriage with the young French king ;
then again to Avignon, to behold the meen of the
emperor and the pope, &c. &c. It is our knowledge of
these things that compcls us to believe that the most
romantic of historians must be also the most true.

His objects in visiting England seem to have been
ofa mingled character; as we learn from his own de-
lightful account of that visit. ‘“ True it was, that J,
Sir John Froissart, as at that time treasurer and canon
of Chimay, in the county of Hainault, in the diocese of
Liege, had great affection to go and see the realm of
Ingland, when I had been in Abbeville, and now that
truce was taken between the realms of France and
England, to endure four years by sea and land. Many
reasons moved me to that voyage. One was, because
in my youth I had been brought up in the court of the
noble king Edward IJI. and Queen Philippa, his wife,
and among their children and other barons of England
that were as then alive, in whom J found all nobleness,
honour, largeness, and courtesy. Therefore J desired
to see the country, thinking thereby J should live
inuch the longer, for [ had not been there twenty-
seven years before; and I thought though IJ saw not
those lords that I left alive there, that at the least J
should sce their heirs, the which should do me much
ood to see, and also to justify the histories and mat-
ters that J had written of them. For these causes and
others I had great desire to go into England to see
King Richard, who was son to the noble Prince of
Wales and of Aquitaine; for J had not seen this King
Richard since he was christened in the cathedral
church of Bourdeaux, at which I was there. And ere
I took my journey I had engrossed in a fair book, well
illumined, all the matters of amours and moralities
that in four and twenty years before J had made and
composed. And I had this said fair book well covered
with velvet, and garnished with clasps of silver and
gilt, thereof to make a present to the king at my first
coming to his presence. I had such desire to go this
voyage, that the pain and travail grieved me nothing.
Thus provided of horses and other necessaries, I passed
the sea at Calais, and came to Dover the 12th day of
the month of July (1395). When I came there I found
no man of my knowledge; it was so long since |
had been in England; and the houses were all newly
changed, and young children were become men, and the
women knew me not, norI them. SoJI abode half a
day and alla night at Dover. It was on a Tuesday;
and the next day by nine of the clock I came to Can-
terbury to St. Thomas’s shrine and to the tomb of the
noble Prince of Wales, who is there interred right
richly. There I heard mass, and made my offering to
the holy saint. And there I was informed how King
Richard should be there next day on the pilgrimage,
which was after his return out of Ireland, where he
had been the space of nine months or thereabouts.
The king had a devotion to visit St. Thomas’s shrine,
also because the prince his father was there buried.

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

{DecEMBER 10,

an I thought to abide the king there;
did.

“ And the next day the king came thither witha noble
company of lords, Jadies, and damsels. And when I
was among them they seemed to me all new folks. [I
knew no person. The time was sore changed in
twenty-eight years. And with the king, as then, was
none of his uncles; the Duke of Lancaster was in
Aquitaine, and the Dukes of York and Gloucester on
other businesses ; so that at first I was all abashed.
For if I had seen any ancient knight that had been
with King Edward or with the prince, I had been well
recomforted; but I could see none such. Then IJ de-
manded for a knight called Sir Richard Stacy whether
he were alive or not. And it was showed me, ‘ Yes,’
but he was at London. Then I thought use to go to
the Lord Thomas Percy, great seneschal of England,
who was there with the king: so I acquainted me
with him, and I found him right honourable and gra-
cious. And he offered to present me and my lettefs to
the king, whereof I was right joyful; for it behoved
me to have some means to bring me to the presence of
such a prince as the King of England was. He went
to the king’s chamber, at which time the king was
gone to sleep; and so he showed me, and bade me
return to my lodging and come again. And so I did;
and when I came to the bishop’s palace, I found the
Lord Thomas Percy ready to ride to Ospringe ; and he
counselled me to make as then no knowledge of m
being there, but to follow the court. And he said he
would cause me ever well to be lodged till the king
should be at the fair castle of Leeds in Kent.

‘‘ IT ordered me after his counsel, and rode before to
Ospringe. And by adventure I was lodged in a house
where was lodged a gentle knight of England, called
Sir William Lisle. He had tarried there behind the
king, because he had pain in his head all the night
before. He was one of the king’s privy chamber; and
when he saw that I was a stranger, and, as he thought,
of the marches of France, becausc of my language, we
fell in acquaintance together, for the gentlemen of
England are courteous, treatable, and glad of acquaint-
ance. Then he demanded what J was, and what busi-
ness I had to do in those parts. J showed him a great

art of my coming thither, all that the Lord Thomas

ercy had said to me and ordered me todo. He then
answered me, and said how I could not have a better
man, and that on Friday the king should be at the
castle of Leeds. And he showed me that when J came
there I should find there the Duke of York, the king’s
uncle ; whereof J was right glad, because I had letters
directed to him, and also tha‘ in his youth he had seen
me in the court of the noble King Edward his father
and the queen his mother.

“Then on the Friday in the morning Sir William
Lisle and I rode togcther, and thus we rode to Leeds,
and thither came the king and all his elon And
there I found the Lord Edmund, Duke of York. Then
I went to him; I delivered my letters from the Count
of Hainault, his cousin, and from the Count of Ostre-
vant. The duke received me weljl, and made me good
cheer, and said, ‘ Sir John, hold you always near to us,
and we shall show you Jove and courtesy: we are
bound thereto for the love of time past, and for love of
my lady the old queen iny mother, in whose court you
were; we have good remembrance thereof.’ Then I
thanked him, as reason required. So J was advanced
by reason of him and Sir Thomas Percy and Sir Wil-
liam Lisle; by their means I was brought into the
king’s chamber, and into his presence by means of his
uncle the Duke of York. Then I delivered my letters
to the king, and he took and read them at good leisure.
Then he said to me that I was welcome, as onc that
had been and is of the English court. As on that day

and s0 I

1842.)

I showed not the king the book I had brought for him ;
he was go sore occupied with great affairs, that I had as
then no leisure to present my book.”

_ At this time important matters engaged the atten-
tion of Richard ; he was in treaty concerning his mar-
riage with Isabel, daughter of the King of Frauce, and
the Gascon lords had appealed against the grant of
Aquitaine to his cousin the Duke of Lancaster. A
great council was summoned to consider these subjects
at Eltham, towards which place the king went, and
Froissart and his train. On the way the historian
pursues his vocation with his usual industry, question-
ing all who were near him; and the results are the
accounts of the Irish expedition and of the policy of
the English court, which we find in his fourth and last
volume. All this while Froissart was anticipating the
pleasure of presenting his fair book, with its velvet
cover, and silver and gilt clasps; and after a few days
stay at Eltham his desire was gratified.

“On the Sunday following all such as had been
there departed, and all their counsellors, except the
Duke of York, who abode still about the king; and
Sir Thomas Percy and Sir Richard Stacey showed my
business to the king. Then the king desired to see
my book that I had brought for him; so he saw it in
his chamber, for I had laid it there ready on his bed.
When the king opened it, it pleased him well, for it
was fair illumined and written, and covered with
crimson velvet, with ten buttons of silver and gilt, and
roses of gold in the midst, with two silver clasps
gilt, richly wrought. Then the king demanded of me
whereof it treated, and I showed him how it treated of
matters of love. whereof the king was very glad. And
he looked into it, and read it in many places; for he
could speak and read French very well. And he gave
it to a knight of his chamber named Sir Richard
Crendon, to bear it into his secret chamber.”

Froissart, after this gracious reception of his literary
labours, stayed some time with the king, “ not always
in one place; for the king oftentimes removed to
* Eltham, to Leeds, to Kingston, to Sheen, to Chertsey,
or to Windsor, about the marches of London.” From
England Froissart returned to complete the last por-
tions of his Chronicle, little expecting, we may be sure,
the nature of the Jast momentous event he would have
to record in it,—the deposition and death of the Eng-
lish monarch who had shown him so much kindness
and courtesy, and the elevation of Bolingbroke to the
throne. With a notice of that event, which will form
the subject of our next paper, we shall terminate the
series ; for there also docs the historian end
Is great work.

SALTERNS.

Tue only branch of trade on the island [Hayling, near
Portsmouth] is the manufacture of salt, which, it ap-
pears, was made here long before the Conquest; and
the inhabitants have always been famous for the great
superiority of this article in foreign markets.

St. Augustin, among others, celebrates the great
excellency of the salt manufactured round the shores
of the Hatingey island, which was in his time superior
to all the salts of the British coasts.

The making of this article depends, in a great mea-
sure, on the weather. During about four months in
the summer, salt is manufactured. The salt water
1s first Ict into square level shallow places formed in
a field adjoining the sea: these shallow places are
called brine-pans, In one, the Saltern, ten acres of
grround are occupied for this purpose. The boiling-
house, where the brine is boiled, contains five large
square shallow pans of sheet-iron. The brine formed
on two acres of ground is sufficient to supply one boil-

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

483

ing-pan. The brine-pans in the ficlds vary in size
from three rods square to a quarter of an acre. In
fine weather the salt water becomes brine in about
seven days. It is then pumped up by a wind-pump
with sails into four reservoirs or pits, each holding
brine sufficient to make twenty-five tons of salt. From
these pits the brine is pumped into the pans in the
house. The brine is then boiled for twelve hours,
there being a fire under each pan. During the boil-
ing it is twice skimmed; first one hour after it has
commenced boiling, and again at the end of the fourth
hour. As soon as the brine has been first skimmed,
the crystals of salt may be perceived rising to the top,
from whence they immediately fall to the bottom.

The salt being formed, it is shovelled out hot and
wet into wooden troughs, holding from about ten to
twelve bushels. These troughs have holes at the
bottom, through which the dross called bztters runs,
forming itself into stalactites. The salt reinains in the
trough ten hours, and is then removed into the store-
house. The crystallization of Epsom salts* is formed
from the drippings of the bitters, and from the dross
at the bottom of the salt in the store-house. The
steam from the brine when boiling passes up large
wooden flues, each flue being broad enough to cover
two pans.

One chaldron of coals per week is required for each

n, which makes two tons of salt. In the saltern we

ave described, about one hundred and fifty-two tons
are inade during the season of fifteen wecks and a half.
There are five pans in the boiling-house of this saltern ;
each pan is nine fect square, one foot deep, and the
brine is poured in to the depth of eight inches: eight
bushels are made every twelve hours, and the pans
are worked day and night for five days out of the
seven.

Salt is sold for sixty shillings a ton: the coals, which
are of an inferior kind, cost from twenty-four to twenty-
six shillings the chaldron.—(From The Guide to Hay-
HF Island, an extremely well-exccuted work of its

In -) \

* Hitherto these salts have not been used, and many thousand
tons must have been lost from the ignorance of the manufacturer.

Sponge of Syme.—On reaching the town, we were surprised at
being conducted to a large Greek tavern or café, and at seeing
many European-looking characters. ‘These were agents come to
purchase sponge, which forms the chief traffic of the island, and
the procuring of which is the principal occupation of the inha-
bitants. In the port were vessels of various sizes, the largrr
waiting for cargoes, which they take to Smyrna, where it is sorted
for the European market: the finest quality, which sells here for
about two hundred piastres per oke, or seventeen shillings per
pound, is almost exclusively confined to the English market.
The smaller vessels belonged to the island: in them the divers
visit the coast of Candia, and even Barbary, in search of this
useful article of trade, which is also found in the rocky coves
round the island itself, though not. of so fine a quality. The
sponge, when first detached from the rock, where it grows in a
cup-like shape, is perfectly smooth and black, sometimes covered
with a skin or coating of the same hue, and full of an offensive
white liquid, which is forced out by pressing it under foot. When

cked in casks to be sent to Smyrna, the sponges are filled with
fine white sand, and when dried, are compressed into a very
small compass. The object of the sand is said to be in order to
preserve the sponge: it also adds considerably to their weight;
and as they ure always sold by weight, it appears at first to he
rather a dishonest mode of proceeding; but it is probable that
were it not for the sand the fine sponges would weigh so little,
that they would be cheaper than the coarse ones; whereas if the
fine sponge requires a greater quantity of sand to fill up its pores,
its we:ght will be proportionably increased : thus the mixing the
sand and selling them by weight may be, in fact, perfectly fair
and honest: however, 1 must admit I did not hear this reason
given.— Hamilton's Researches in Asia Minor, &c.

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

{| DECEMBER 10,

(The Ash—Fraziaus Excelswr.)
Milk-pails are formed of it by rolling the plank intoa

THE ASH.

Next to the oak, the ash is the most valuable of al) our
trees. If the oak be regarded as the king of trees and
the Hercules of the forest, the ash may fairly claim su-
premacy as their queen, and Gilpin terms it the Venus
of the woods. Its trunk is not so giant-like as the
oak, but it frequently attains a greater height. The
oak is pre-eminently useful for ship-building and all
purposes in which great durability is required ; and
the ash, for the variety of agricultural and useful
common purposes in which it is emplo ed, is some-
times called the “husbandman’s tree.” Evelyn says,—
‘in peace and war it is a wood in the highest request.”
He here alludes to pikes, spears, and bows having been
anciently made of ash. Except the roots, which are
often curiously veined and capable of taking a good
poe the ash is scarcely used by the cabinet-maker ;
but to the village carpeulter and wheelwright its timber
is invaluable on account of its hardness, toughness, and
elasticity. It is used for ploughs, harrows, wheels,
axle-trees, handles for spades and various implements
of agriculture, and it has the advantage of combining
strength with lightness. It is also very valuable for
blocks, pulleys, and those parts of machinery which
have to sustain sudden shocks. Kitchen tables made
of ash do not splinter, and they bear scouring well.

hollow cylinder and putting in a bottom. Ash timber
will bear a greater weight without breaking than that
of any other of the indigenous forest-trees of Europe.
Like the Spanish chestnut, the wood of young trees is
most esteemed, as the fibre is stronger and more elas-
tic. An ash-pole three inches in diameter will be as
durable as the timber of the largest tree. The best
time for felling is said to be when the tree has at-
tained the age of from thirty to sixty years; but it con-
tinues to grow for several centuries. A great part of
the supply of ash timber is obtained from trees grow-
ing in hedge-rows. In some districts it is almost
the only tree planted in this way; but the supply from
the hedge-rows is every day diminishing, as, notwith-
standing the value of the timber, the long straggling
roots, which push forth just below the surface, exhaust
the soil around, and the tree is sacrificed to the neces-
sity of speedier profits from the annual produce of the
ground whose fertility it destroys. The ash is fre-
quently pollarded, and when thus treated it yields a
considerable quantity of wood for fuel and minor pur-
poses. Besides its more general use by the carpenter,
the ash is valuable in other ways: it makes good
potash ; the bark isemployed in tanning calf-skins and
nets; and as fuel itis excellent. Evelyn says that it
is the best fuel for smoke-drying herrings.

1842.]

The ash is indigenous to all the countries of Europe,
and is found in northern Africa and many of the
northern parts of Asia. There is a great tendency in
the ash to run into varieties, many of which assume
the character of distinct species, and trees similar in
appearance to the ash occur in North America. The
most striking variety in England is the weeping-ash,
which possesses all the characters of the common ash,
except that its branches grow downward. It is often
giafted on a lofty stem, and the pendent branches
form a natural arbour. This variety is said to have
originated accidentally in a field at Gamlinghay, in
Cambridgeshire. At Cowpen, near Morpeth, there
are some singularly fine trecs of this variety. Ina
good soil the ash attains a height of fifteen feet in ten

ears. One of the largest trees in this country, and
there is little doubt that it is the largest, stands in
Woburn Park, the seat of the Duke of Bedford. Its
dimensions, which are given by Mr. Loudon in the
‘Arboretum,’ are as follows :—It 1s nmety feet high
from the ground to the top of its branches, and the
stem alone is twenty-eight feet. It is twenty-three
feet six inches incircumference on the ground ; twenty
feet at one foot; and fifteen feet three inches at three
feet from the ground. The circumference of its
branches is one hundred and thirteen feet in diameter,
and the measurable timber in the body of the tree is
three hundred and forty-three feet ; and in the arms
and branches, one of which is nine feet in circum-
ference, five hundred and twenty-nine feet, making
altogether eight hundred and seventy-two feet of tim-
ber. Mr. Loudon mentions instances of several ash-
trees which are higher, but none that contain so great
a bulk of timber. At Carnock, in Stirlingshire, there
isa fine ash, planted in 1596, and consequently two
hundred and forty-six years old, which contains six
hundred and seventy-nine cubic feet of timber. Eve-
lyn suggests that “every prudent lord of a manor
should employ one acre of ground with ash to every
twenty acres of other land; since, in as many years, it
would be worth more than the land itself.” The value
of land has risen so much since Evelyn’s time, as to
render this advice no longer judicious ; and iron is also
extensively used as a substitute for timber. The sub-
soil should be dry, and stiff clay-land must be avoided.
A coppice of ash may be cut every 8ix or seven years
for walking-sticks, hoops, rods for crates, ight hurdles,
and wattled fences, or at twelve or fourteen years for
hop-poles. When the plants attain a diameter of from
four to six inches, the wood becomes useful for a
greater variety of purposes. In the hop counties and
in the potteries plantations of ash are very profitable,
from the demand for hop-poles and for crates.

As a picturesque tree, the ash is admired for the
lichtness of its whole appearance. Gilpin says :~-“ Its
branches at first keep close to the trunk, and form
acute angles with it; but, as they begin to lengthen,
they generally take an easy sweep; and the looseness
of the teaves, corresponding with the lightness of the
spray, the whole forms an elegant depending foliage.”
He adds—*“ Nothing can have a better effect than an
old ash hanging from the corner of a wood, and bring-
ing off the heaviness of the other foliage with its loose
pendent branches.” Strutt says—‘‘ It is in mountain
scenery that the ash a to peculiar advantage,
waving its slender branches over some precipice, which
just affords it soil sufficient for its footing, or springing

etween crevices of rocks; a happy emblem,” he adds,
‘of the hardy spirit which will not be subdued by
fortune’s scantiness.” Dr. Lindley, in the ‘ Penny
Cyclopedia,’ characterizes the ash as “ singularly
graceful for a European tree, often resembling in its
slender stems and thin airy foliage the acacias of tropi-
cal regions.” The light green of its leaves contrasts

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

485

agreeably with trees of amore sombre bue. The ash
is not, like the oak, a grand object in extreme old age.
It labours under one great disadvantage, which inter-
feres with its character as an ornamental tree; and
this is the brief period during which it retains its full
foliage. The leaves are late in expanding, and in the
north of England, in some years, the tree is not fully
in leaf before the last weck in June. With the first
autumnal frost, however early it may be, the long
stalks drop from the tree and disfigure the walks, at a
time when all nature besides is still rejoicing in the
full beauty of maturity. The leaves of the ash do not
often exhibit those fading glories which are so emi-
nently beautiful in many other trees. When nipped
by the frost, they shrivel and become of a blackish hue ;
but if no frost has intervened, the leaves assume a
lemon-coloured tinge, and have a most picturesque
effect. A tract of country planted extensively with
ash-trees has a cold and desolate appearance at a later
period in spring and earlicr in autumn than where other
species prevail.

We shall probably not soon return to the subject of
trees, and therefore once more recommend tbein as
calculated to interest any one who will take the
trouble to observe the character of each species and its
varying beauties throughout the whole year. The in-
habitants of London now enjoy opportunities for this
study which they never before possessed, at least to so
great an extent, through the most commendable zeal
of the Commissioners of Woods and Forests, who have
caused tablets to be placed in front of the trees
and shrubs which were planted a few years ago in
Kensington Gardens and St. James’s Park. Mr. Lou-
don, the author of the‘ Arboretum,’ has conferred a
favour on the public by pointing out what the com-
missioners have done for their instruction. “ In addi-
tion to the scientific name, the English name is given,
the natural order to which tne tree and shrub belongs,
and the year of its introduction into Britain. Thus,
in the case of the sugar maple, we have the words
below painted in white on a black ground :—

‘ Acer saccharinum, Z.
The sugar maple.
An aceraceons tree.
A native of North Aterica.
Introduced in 1735.’

“ Tneed not enlarge on the entertaininent and instruec-
tion that this enlightened and liberal act on the part of
the Commissioners of Woods and Forests will afford
to the public frequenting these gardens, or even to
those who, living remote from the metropolis, can visit
them occasionally. Suffice it to say, that it will create
anew sense in thousands of persons, and enable them
to derive a degree of enjoyment froin trees and shrubs
which they had no idea of before. It will enable the
citizen or extensive proprictor, intending to plant, to
make choice of those trees and shrubs which he thinks
most ornamental, or most likely to answer his purpose ;
and thus, by improving the appearance of individual
estates, it will contribnte to )ncrease the beauty and
variety of the woody scenery of the whole country.”

PLAINS, GEOGRAPHICALLY CONSIDERED.

AL those parts of the dry land which cannot pro-
perly be called mountainous are plains, and such com-
ose by far the greater part of the earth's surface.
‘hus, for instance, it has been estimated that in South
America the plains are to the inountainous country as
4tol. Weare notaware thatasimilar calculation has
been made for other parts of the world, nor are there
perhaps materials sufficiently exact for the purpose.
The word plain has but an indefinite meaning ot
itself, and seems to be rightly understood only when

—_—. a

ee ee ee eS ee ee SS
~ =

SS Ee ee
‘

486 THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

used in opposition to the word mountains, or when
conjoined to the name of some. known place, in which
case it means the ein itself so designated, or the
environs of some particular spot. Thus we speak of
the cities of the plains, the valleys of the plains, the
plains of Lombardy, the plains of Quito, &c.

It were a great error to imagine that by the word
plain a pertectly horizontal surface is always under-
stood. In its usual acceptation it means a greater or
less extent of country, flat in its general level as
compared with a mountainous country. The more
perfectly even and horizontal the surface, the better
docs it deserve to be called a plain, such as the plains
of Venezuela and of the lower Orinoco, Mesopotamia,
&c. But the surface of the ground may be gently
waving, as Salisbury plain, and the Ukraine; or more
prominently undulated, as the dae round Paris; or
it may be studded with hills, as the plains of the Cassi-
quiare ; or it may be traversed by valleys more or less
wide and dcep, like that part of France which lies
between the Loire and the Garonne; or intersected
with deep ravines, as the central plains of Russia,
without ceasing on such accounts to be a plain.

Plains have been divided into two classes, high and
Jow; but a moment’s reflection will show that such
denominations can apply rigorously only to the two
extremities of a scale of elevation, at the bottom of
which would stand, for example, the delta of Egypt or
the llanos of South America (which latter are raised
only about 150 feet above the level of the ocean, and in
some places even less), and at the top the plain of
Antisana, 13,435 feet above the sea-level; whereas the
greater number of plains are found at intermediate

heights, as the following will show :—
Feet above the Occan.

The plains of Hungary. . 200 to 250
The extensive plains on the north

of the old continent from the

Schelde to the Yenisci . . 250 to 30)
Plains of Moscow. . . 460
Plains of Lombardy . . « 500
Plains of Lithuania . : . 600
Suabia_. ‘ ‘ ; - 900
The plateau of Valdat yg. - 1000
Auvergne ; : : . 1100
Switzerland between the Alps

and Jura. . ; . 1400
Steppes of the Kirghis . 1300 to 1600
Bavaria . : ‘ ; . 1650
Plains of the two Castiles . . 1800 to 2100
Mysore . : : . . 2300 to 2600
Table-land of Persia . : . 3800 to 4200

&c. &e.

Though we generally regard those plains which are
the least raised above the surface of the ocean as the
lowest, it must not be forgotten that round the Caspian
and Aral there are plains of many thousand square
miles considerably depressed below the sea-level ; as
is also the case with the plain or valley of the Jordan.

The term plateau has often been given exclusivel
to elevated plains, but this also is incorrect, inasmuc
as by a platcau is sometimes meant a great extent of
country considerably raised above the rest of the land,
and having its mountains, its plains, and its valleys, as
is particularly exemplified in the minor plateau of
Albania, and in the great plateau of Central Asia.
The latter contains four great chains of mountains, the
Altai on the north, the Thian-Chan and the Huen-lun
in the interior, and the Himalaya on the south, between
which are the vast plains of Dzoungaria, of Tongout,
and of Tibet, with their rivers, valleys, and lakes.

Table-land, properly so called, is an elevated plain
rising abruptly from the general level of the country,
and being, as it were, the broad and horizontal or

[DecemBeErR 10,

gently undulating top of an immense mountain, as the
Nilgherry district of India. Sometimes there are
several such, sect one upon the other, at least on one or
two sides, when they are called platforms or terraces,
as those on the eastern slope of the Cordillera of New
Mexico.

Some writers regard the words plateau and table-
land as merely the French and English names for the
same sort of elevation. Humboldt is of opinion that
these names should be confined to elevations pro-
ducing a sensible diminution of temperature, and
accordingly to such heights only as attain to 1800 or
2400 feet. Some again, as Balbi, give the name of
plateau to all high and extensive mountain-tracts.

Generally speaking, the plains of Europe are of
middling elevation, the extremes of high and low
being principally found in Asia and America. Thus,
while the great plains of Central Asia, about Ladak,
Tibet, and Katchi, and round Koukounoor, and else-
where, attain a height similar to those of Quito and
Titicaca, or from 9000 to 12,000 feet, the great marshy
plains of Siberia along the borders of the Frozen
Ocean are very slightly raised above the sea-level, as
is also the case with the plainsof Bengal at the mouths
of the Ganges, the whole of Mesopotamia, the Tehama
of Arabia, &c. |

In South America, contrasting with the lofty plains
of Quito, of Santa Fé de Bogota, &c., are the llanos
and the plains of the Amazon; while in North
Amcrica the interminable prairies and the low swamps
round New Orleans form a striking contrast with the
Rocky Mountains and the elevated plains of Mexico.

Of Africa little is known, but there is reason to
believe that if the plains of Lower Egypt and part of
the Sahara are very low, there may be high plains in
the mountainous regions.

Plains differ not only in their elevation, but in the
horizontality of their surface and gencral slope, and in
the nature of their soil ; which circumstances, together
with their geographical position, influence their climate
and productions, and give to the most considerable
among them a particular character and physiognomy.
It may be remarked that the rocky and sandy plains
belong almost exclusively to the hot and temperate
regions of the old world. The plains of America are
generally charaeterised by their gramineous covering
or their vast forests; the Asiatic steppes by a twofold
appearance, being in some parts studded with low
saline plants, and in others, as in Southern Russia,
Siberia, and Turkistan, covered with plants of the
families of the Composite and Leguminosa; while
the greater part of the European plains are richly
cultivated.

We say such are the general characteristics, for there
are plains of similar character and physiognomy in
very different and widely separated regions of the
world. The high land of the Campos Parexis, for
instance, in South America, 1s very similar in phy-
siognomy to the desert of Gobi in Asia. The Desterios,
near Coquimbo, are of the same character as the
Sahara. The Puszta of Hungary resemble the
savannas of the New World ; and the pampas of Cor-
dova are not unlike some of the Siberian steppes.

Though, as we have said, plains constitute by far
the greater portion of the earth’s surface, and are very
varied in their appearance, there are nevertheless
some which are remarkable not only for their extent,
but for the peculiarities which distinguish them;
peculiarities derived, no doubt, in part from the cir-
cumstances attending their original formation, and
which no subsequent causes have been able to ob-
literate. These remarkable plains are known under
the names of deserts, landes, and heaths, steppes
savannas, and prairies, anos, pampas, and selvas (ot

1842.)

forest plains) of the Maraiion. Deserts havin been
already described under their particular head, we shall
here give a brief account of the others.

Heaths and Landes of Europe.—From Paris to
Moscow and Cazan on the one hand, and to Astrakan
on the other, is one continued plain, comprising the
lowlands of Northern France, the Netherlands, the
North of Germany, the whole of Prussia, and the
greater part of Poland and Russia, as far as the first
terraces of the Ural. Besides which there are many
minor plains, as those of Wallachia and Bulgaria,
Hungary, Lombardy, &c. The antient civilization of
Europe has covered the greater part of its plains with
cultivation and rendered some of these lands the
richest in the world (the plains of Lombardy) ; never-
theless there are some spots which seem to defy all
human efforts to bring them into cultivation: such are
those between the Lower Volga and the Ural, of which
we shall speak more fully in describing the steppes;
and such are the heaths and landes. Of these, next to
those of Russia, the most extensive are in Lapland
and West Gothland. But the chief landes and heaths,
Properly so called, lie in the north-west of Germany.

n Lower Silesia, Lusatia, and Brandenburg therc is
little else than sand, and also in Pomerania and Meck-
lenburg, studded with a few hills, numerous lakes,
and, along the maritime parts of the latter, having
some woods of oak. Jn Hanover the gentle acclivities
are covered with heath, which extends through part of
Holstein to the centre of Jutland. The most sterile
parts of Hanover however are the landes of Liineburg
and Verden between the Elbe and the Weser, and
those of Meppen on the right bank of the Ems. Those
of Liineburg and its vicinity are said to cover a space
of about 6000 square miles. These landes are covered
with heath, with pine woods, and marshes. On the
west of the Ems, about Bentheim, there are also ex-
tensive landes covered with swamps and stagnant pools.
Jn the province of the Lower Rhine, in the environs of
Monjoie between Eupen and Malmedy, we again find
vast landes coated with heath. In France, of which
country about one-twelfth is unproductive soil, there
are extensive landes and barren spots. That tract
which extends eastward from the right bank of the
Adour, and gives its name to the department, consists
almost wholly of pools, marshes, and heaths, and this
sterile plain extends a great way into the department
of the Gironde. The shingle plain of Crau, in the
department of the Bouches du Rhéne, is well known,
and likewise the sterile chalky plain of La Champagne
Pouilleuse. In the kingdom of Naples there are con-
siderable Jandes.

Steppes.—This name, which is Russian, is given
more particularly to the extensive plains which lie on
the north-west of Asia. Considered as a whole, the
steppes have a character quite different from the other
great plains of the world, though in different parts
they present partially the distinguishing features which
characterise the llanos, the savannas, the pampas, the
sandy deserts, &c. Generally speaking, they consist
of rich pastures intermingled with woods, barren
sands, muriatiferous clay, and abounding in lakes,
pools, and streams of salt and bitter waters. |

From the sea of Azof on the west to the foot of the
Little Altai on the east, there is a band extending, in
a north-east direction, from the mouth of the Kuban
towards Torusk, where the undulations of the plain
prevent the egress of the waters, which, percolating
through a highly saline soil, are collected in the hollows
into innumerable lakes and pools of salt water, which
give a peculiar feature and interest to these steppes.

Pariter northward, the Siberian plains have a

eneral slope towards the Frozen Ocean, and are
uitersected by the great rivers Ob!, Yenisei, and Lena;

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

487

between the lower courses of which extend immense
frozen marshes, covered with moss, and interspersed
with a few sandy and clayey hills crowned with tufts
or clumps of stunted birch and other dwarf shrubs.

The greater part of what are properly called the
steppes form a considerable part of the country known
as Independent Tartary, which is inhabited by the no-
madic hordes of the Kirghis Cossacks.

The steppe which lies on the north-west of the Cas-

ian, bounded by the Caucasus, the sea of Azof, the
ower course of the Don, and thence to the Ural or
Jaik, is inhabited by the Cossacks of the Black Sea and
the N ogay Tartars. The whole of this steppe is cha-
racterized as composed of hills of a moving shelly
sand, between which are beautiful green pastures, and
marshy hollows with reeds and clumps of trees, among
which are willows, poplars, and wild olive. There are
numerous salt streams and brine-pools, barren patches
covered with a saline efflorescence, and in many places
tufts of saline plants. The fertility of the hollows
seems due to a sheet of water, which, coming from the
hilly range called Obstchei Sirt, a branch of the Ural,
flows immediately below the sandy surface, being pro-
bably retained by an impervious substratum.

Between the Jaik on the west and a low ridge of
hills on the east, which may be regarded as a south-east-
ern continuation of the Ural, and which extends between
the Aral and the Caspian, is another steppe similar in
character to that already described. It is occupied by
the Kirghis of the little horde; while what is called the
central or middle horde ranges over the vast steppe con-
tained between the lake Aral and the Sir on the south,
the low hills already mentioned on the west, the Oulous-
taou and Naourgiuskaia ranges on the north, and the
Sarasou on the east. With the exception of the Sir,
all the waters of this great basin lose themselves in
the sand, or in lakes more or less salt, the principal
of which is the famous Aksakal Bari.

To the north of the last-mentioned steppe lies the

eat steppe or plain of Ischim, which extends from
the eastern slope of the south extremity of the Ural,
across the Tobol, to the Irtish. It takes its name from
the river Ischim, which, dividing it nearly in two, falls
into the Irtish near Petropavlofiskoi. The north-east
part of this steppe towards Tara, on the left bank of
the Irtish, is covered with dense forests abounding in
game and rich in furs. Sables are in great number,
but of indifferent quality ; besides which there are
bears, wolves, foxes, ermines and squirrels, beavers,
lynxes, gluttons, and others, and still farther north
are reindeer. The Kirghis of the middle horde some-
times encamp in the plains of Ischim, of similar
general character to those already described.

Crossing the Irtish, we enter the great steppe of
Baraba, occupying al] the space between that river
and the Upper Obi. This steppe, lying nearer the foot
of the mountainous district of the south and east, con-
tains numerous lakes and pools, particularly in its
southern portion. This district is in many places
extremely fertile, and along the watercourses the
grass grows Juxuriantly. The north and north-west
parts are wooded, but the more southern, those lying
along the Irtish and towards the Altai, have few trees,
and are less fertile. The lake Tschany, the largest
and nearly the most northerly of the great group of
lakes, abounds in fish; the surrounding country is
extremely fertile, and abounds in aquatic game, the
chief nourishment of the Tartar tribes who live dis-
persed along the frontiers of this canton. Interspersed
with the sandy, barren, and saline spots are many
places where there is excellent land for tillage, in
which grain and flax succeed well. In those parts of
this district which suit them there are great quantities
of elks, roebucks, and wild boars. ‘The Kirghis of the

433 THE PENNY
great horde occupy a more mountainous country to
the south of the Sarasou.

Besides these great steppes, there are numerous
other patches of greater or less extent and similar
ccna character in Central Siberia, reaching from
the Ural to the Lena.

Previous to the nominal subjection of the wander-
ing hordes to Russia, that country had lines of fortified
posts for its protection against these predatory bands ;
but now that the different hordes of Kirghis acknow-
ledge the supremacy of Russia, and their several chiefs
are paid by the Russian government, many of these
posts have been abandoned, and open villages are now
multiplying along the roads by which the Russian
caravans travel towards Kiachta and in the direction
of the mining districts of the Altai. The inhabitants
of these villages, some of which are very large, are the
only stationary population of the steppes. The wan-
dering tribes are very numerous, and are continually
shifting their ground to find food for their numerous
cattle, consisting of horses, camels, horned cattle,
sheep, and goats. These herds, together with the
booty taken in their incursions upon the Calmucks and
others, form the sole wealth of the Kirghis, who lead
easy and independent lives.

The extent of the steppes
cluding the marshy plains of
1,000,000 square miles.

Savannus or Prairies.—The central part of North
America, from the Frozen Ocean to the Gulf of
Mexico, may be regarded as one continuous plain,
divided by a low watershed into the north-castern
basin, whose waters flow into the Polar Sea, Hudson’s
Bay, and, by the great lakes and St. Lawrence, into
the Atlantic, and the basin of the Missouri and Mis-
sissippi, Whose waters fall into the Gulf of Mexico.

This immense tract of country, estimated by Hum-
boldt at 2,430,000 square miles, 1s extremely varied in
climate, in character, and productions; for while the
northern portion, which is watered by the Mackenzie,
Back’s River, the Churchill, and the Saskatchewan, is
condemned for the greater part of the year to all the
horrors of an iron-bound soil and stunted polar vege-
tation, palms and other tropical trees grow at the ex-
tremity of the southern portion. It is this southern
basin, watered by the mighty Missouri and Mississippi,
with their abundant affiuents, that contains those ex-
tensive grass-covered tracts, the savannas and prairies.
They he chiefly on the western side of the Mississippi,
though along the Illinois river they are found to the
extent of 1,200,000 acres, and also in other parts of the
basin east of the Mississippi. But the whole of the
territory from the right bank of the Mississippi to the
mountains is not one continued savanna, or even an
unbroken horizontal plain; for it rises towards the
mountains, many of whose spurs are reached by the
Missouri, which has erroded their extremities into
bluffs. These ridges form the boundaries of the basins
of the great tributary streams, the Platte, the Kanses,
the Osage, the Arkansas, &c. Woods are also occa-
sionally met with along the Mississippi and other
watercourses, as likewise in Arkansas; and in some
places, as between the Platte and the Missouri, there
are extensive surfaces of moving sands resembling
those of the African desert. Elsewhere again, as from
the mouth of the Arkansas along the Mississippi, a
distance of 450 miles long and 40 iniles broad, the soil
is all swamps and pools, with abundance of trees: this
js also the case above Illinois lake and elsewhere.
Along the upper Missouri, from the territory of the
Mandans, is an interminable plain without trees or
shrubs except in the marshy spots. In various parts,
but more especially along the borders of the great
piain, and jn Arkansas, salt is found.

proper so called, ex-
the north, may be about

MAGAZINE. [DEcEMBER 10,

The savannas, or prairies, as they are also called, are
divided by Flint, an American writer, into three
kinds :—1. the heathy or bushy, which have springs
and are covered with small shrubs, grape-vines, &c.,
very common in Indiana, [Jlinois, and Missouri; 2. dry
or rolling, generally destitute of water and almost of
all vegetation but grass; they are the most common
and extensive: the traveller may wander for days in
these vast and nearly level plains without wood or
water, and see no object rising above the horizon;
3. the alluvial or wet prairies, the smallest division ;
they are covered with a rich vegetation of tall rank
grass. The soil is deep, black, friable, and fertile, and
abounding in pools without issue, left by the floodings
of the rainy season. It is over the second kind chiefly
that the bisons wander in herds of from forty thousand
to fifty thousand. Stags, or more properly wapitis, are
also very numerous; and between the Arkansas and
Red rivers there are droves of wild horses. Deer are
also numerous; and along the borders of the Missouri,
above the Platte, or shallow river, the antelope abounds
in herds of several hundreds. In summer wild goats
are seen in vast numbers along the Mississippi. Above
the Mandan villages are grizzly bears; and badgers,
beavers, otters, foxes, wolves, racoons, opossums,
squirrels, porcupines, and skunks inhabit the same
region. To this enumeration of Warden’s and Flint’s,
Lyell adds the jaguar. The waters teem with alliga-
tors and tortoises, and their surface is covered with
millions of migratory water-fowl, which perform their
annual ee between the Canadian Jakes and the

shores of the Mexican Gulf.
(To be continued.]

Siberian Fowling.—Shooting after our manner is never prac-
tised here. If a peasant sees any one shoot flying, he stands with
his mouth open, staring with astonishment, not at the skill of the
sportsman, but at his folly in expending so much ammunition,
which is exceedingly expensive, on a single bird. He believes,
as is really the case, that more skill is required to shoot with his
rifle that carries the amallest quantity of powder, and a single ball
about the size of swan-shot, with that extraordinary precision
necessary 60 as not to perforate the fur. In this, perhaps, they
excel any people living: if they do shoot, though they prefer to
trap even the black-cock, gelinottes, and coq de bruyére, they
always strike the bird on the head, and this at a distance of two
or three hundred paces. They snare even the double becasse, a
bird hardly known in England, of which there are periodical
flights in Russia and Siberia, and which are in our estimation
superior to any sort of game we are acquainted with. When
they shoot, they approach the object first on all-fours, and then
crawl on their stomachs till they are ata proper distance for
firing. They have usually two rests to their rifle, which they
fix in the snow or ground when not frozen, and having taken a
steady aim, rarely if ever miss. To an Englishman these rifles
do appear, to be sure, the most extraordinary machines, and few
would have the courage to use them. They prove, however, that
success depends much more on the skill of the sportsman than
the excellence of his arms, which, indeed, we have long since
found out in many other countries. We bad with us one of
Lancaster's tube-guns, for which the amateurs would have given
more than the prime cost, but more out of curiosity than for use.
The common rifle-barrels are made at Tobolsk, are very heavy,
and have a very small bore. The grooves are round, instead of
perpendicular, and the ball, which is cut, instead of cast, is
forced in and the edges rounded off in ramming down. The
lock is large and awkward-looking, the springs on the ontside,
that of the cock clumsy and not tempered: the whole machine
works so slowly that you may see the trigger stop aud move on
again during the progress of the cock towards the pan. The
charge does not contain fifty grains of powder. Ju fhe event of
a spring breaking, the chasseur readily replaces it by one of wood,
generally of larch, which answers his purpose equally well, and
he is thus independent of the gunmaker. With all these imper-
fections, as we have said before, they rarely or never miss, and
always hit an animal whose fur is precious through the muzzle.
Rifles of this sort cost here 25 roubles, powder 5 roubles per
lb., and lead is also dear.—Cotirell’s Recollections of Siberia,

1842.3

rhe ~ .
RS, a of + -
a ae Sh. wh Meee + %.
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THE PENNY MAGAZINE. :

489

{Vale of Wyominug.—From an Original Drawing]

THE VALE OF WYOMING.

THE poetical associations with “delightful Wyoming ”
have given ita celebrity that its otherwise sequestered
situation would never have attained, although the his-
torical events which there took place were important
enough and terrible enough to attract the attention and
interest the feclings of all who might have become ac-
quainted with them. The celebrity given to it by
Campbell’s beautiful poem may perhaps justify our
quoting the historical account of these events as a
pee of curious comparison. The poci is too well
nown to need any lengthened quotation, and we shall
therefore only present the poet’s description of its
state, previous to the commencement of its troubles in
1778.
“ Delightful Wyoming! beneath thy skies
The happy shepherd swains had nought to do
But feed their flocks on green declivities,
Or skim perchance thy lake with light canoe,
From morn till evenitig’s sweeter pastime grew,
With timbrel, when, beneath the forests brown,
Thy lovely maidens would the dance renew ;
And aye those sunny mountains half-way down
Would echo flageolet from some romantic town,
And scarce had Wyoming of war or crime
Heard, but in Transatlantic story rung ;
For here the exile met from every clime,
And spoke in friendship every distant tongue ;
Men from the blood of wartitig Europe sprung
Were but divided by the rumming brook ;
And happy where no Rhenish trumpet sung,
On plains no sieging mine’s voleano shook,
The be ae German changed his sword to pruning-
hook.”
This beautiful poetical picture of a state rivalling the
golden age, is severely contradicted by the historian;
and it is no slight proofof the poet’s art, that, without
any violation of the truth of nature, he has been able
to elevate such a tissxe of crime and cruelty into a
poem of such extreme beauty. This he has done
chiefly by selecting only a few actors, and thus leaving
‘he baser passions which actuated the multitude in
obscurity. The historian (we quote from the ‘ Pictorial
History of England’) says :—

eight new townships, each containing a territory of
about five miles on both sides of the river Susque-
hanna. The climate was genial, the soil luxuriantly
fertile, and there was that alteration of hill and valley,
wood and water, careful cultivation and natural wild-
ness, which constitutes the most picturesque aud lovely
of scenery. But this terrestrial paradise had been in-
habited all along by unquiet spirits, who had laid the
foundations of their establishments in war, and who
had heen obliged all along to protect them with the
sword. Romantic travellers, enchanted with the natu-
ral beauty and tranquillity of the spot, fondly fancied
a peaceful, happy population, in harmony with the
scene. There could not be a greater mistake. The
district, in the natural order of things, or by its geo-
graphical position, seemed properly to belong to Penn-
sylvania; but the colony of Connecticut claimed it in
virtue of an old grant, and it was first settled and cul-
tivated ‘ by a numerous swarm from the populous hive
of Connecticut.’ The Pennsylvanians instantly set up
their counter-claim, and referred to maps and their
natural boundaries as the best arguments to support it.
The Connecticut men, who always held what they got
with great tenacity, refused to relinquish possession,
and, after many long and angry debates, the two colo-
nies actually went to war with one another about
Wyoming. And these hostilities between Pennsyl-
vania and Connecticut were prosecuted with such
earnestness, that they lasted even after the breaking
out of the war with Rniand, and were only suspended
by the near approach of a common danger. Several
Pennsylvanian families had obtained a settlement in
the district: these, like a very large portion of the
colony of Pennsylvania, were decided royalists ; and it
appears that some of the most considerable of the Con-
necticut settlers entertained the same political princi-
ples. But there, as elsewhere, the revolutionary party
gained an ascendancy which they were incapable of
using with moderation. The fiercest of factions and
feuds raged through all the townships, converting that
little paradise into a very hell. These violent animosi-
ties were not confined to particular families or places,
or marked by any line of distinction; they crept under

“This naturally beautiful district was dotted with | every roof; they divided father from son, brother from

No. 687, ,

¥yk. X1—3 R

490 THE PENNY
brother; they made an incessant jar and discord ; they
poisoned all the sources of domestic happiness, and
they converted the denizens of the spot into creatures
as fierce and savage as the red Indians, or the wild
beasts that had formerly occupied it or prowled over it.

“Such was the real condition of Wyoming, which

oets and other writers have described as one of the
lappiest spots of human existence! The revolutionary
party, after oppressing and driving out most of the
royalists, sent a large reinforcement to serve in the
army of Congress, and thus laid themselves open to
attack froin the savages and from their expelled bre-
thren. They had built some little forts, but these were
unequal to the protection of the district, every step of
which was familiar to the exiles; and, as their best
men had gone to fight against the British, they had
but indifferent garrisons to put into these forts. They
had received repeated warnings, but they continued to
be obstinately blind to their danger, despising the Tory
fugitives, and relying on delusive promises made them
by some of the Indian tribes. Early in July they were
roused from this dream of security by the sudden ap-
pearance of 800 men on the bank of the Susquehanna.
Of this hostile force scarcely more than one-half were
real Indians, the rest being Anglo-Americans disguised
as Indian warriors. The outcasts from Wyoming had
been joined by fugitive royalists from other parts of
the back settlements. They were reported to be led
by an Anglo-American partisan called Colonel John
Butler, the same who had offered General Carleton
the service of the Indians in Canada, four years before,
and by one Brandt, half Mohawk and half American,
and (as not uncommon with such hybrids) said to be

_a man of great cunning and ferocity, with an un-

uenchable thirst for blood. It appears, however, that
there are some reasons for doubting whether Brandt
was a man of this character, and whether he was en-
gaged at all in the fatal Wyoming incursion. But
whoever were the conductors of the expedition, it was
conducted with monstrous cruelty, nor could less be
expected from such a combination of evil passions and
habits. The imagination and the inventive faculties
of the Americans were, however, employed in the ap-
palling narratives which were soon afterwards spread
through the world; and it is now established by the
best authorities, that scarcely a tithe of the horrors that
have figured in many books had any foundation in
truth. It is also established as an unquestionable fact
that months before the irruption into Wyoming, early
in the spring, Congress had determined upon carrying
the war into the country of the Indians (how mergilessly
such expeditions were conducted had been proved the

receding year), and that the design of extermination

ad only been suspended through want of means and
the exigencies of war in other quarters.

“On the appearance of the hostile force there were
only sixty American regulars in the district, under the
command of Colonel Zebulon Butler, said to be of the
same family as the Colonel Butler that was leading on
the invaders: but the militia, under the command of
Colonel Dennison, amounted to some 300 men. The
Indians and their allies entered the valley of Wyoming
Near its northern boundary, and took without resistance
one of the forts called Wintermoots, which they burned.
This was the first notice of their arrival. The militia
and all the inhabitants capable of bearing arms
assembled at Forty-fort, a stronger place on the west
side of the Susquehanna, and four miles below the
camp of the invaders. Washington was actually send-
ing some regular troops to the district; but Colonel
Zebulon Butler rashly resolved, without waiting for
their arrival, to go out from Forty-fort and fight these
real and sham Indians. He found them well posted
it a plain, partially covered with pine-trees, dwarf

MAGAZINE. [DECEMBER 17,
oaks, and underwood ; and, while he was moving on
in single column, he was saluted by the fire of Indians
from behind bushes and trees. Zebulon Butler, how-
ever, formed into line; but a body of Indians turned
his left flank, which was composed of the militia, and
poured a destructive fire on his rear. Upon this the
word ‘retreat’ was heard, the militia broke, and it was
not in the power of Zebulon Butler and his officers to
form them again. The sixty regulars were obliged to
join in the flight; but they could not take the road by
which they had advanced ;—the enemy was in front,
and on one side was a marsh and a mountain, and on
the other the deep river. As soon as their line was
broken, the Indians and their equally savage allics
threw down their rifles and muskets, and fell upon
them with their tomahawks. The massacre became
general—the cry for quarter and for mercy was un-
heeded. Rather Jess than sixty men escaped by swim-
ming across the river, hiding in the marsh, or climbing
the mountain; only three prisoners were taken and
preserved alive; and the rest of the force, regulars
and militia, officers and men, amounting altogether
to nearly four hundred, were butchered on the spot.
Colonel Zebulon Butler, who, as a regular officer,
ought to have proceeded with more judgment, and
Colonel Dennison, the head of the militia, had the
good fortune to escape. Butler, understanding that
no quarter would be allowed to the troops of Congress,
fled from Wyoming with his very few surviving men.
Dennison, sceing the inhabitants so _terror-struck
‘that they gave up the matter of fighting,’ proposed
terms of capitulation, which the enemy granted to the
inhabitants. But these unfortunate people, dreading
the vindictive visitations of their white brethren as
much as the native fierceness of the red men, generally
abandoned the fair country, becoming in their turn
outcasts and wanderers without property and without
ahome. The invaders collected stock and produce,
scized upon everything that was moveable and worth
the carriage, burned all the houses, levelled the forts,
destroyed all the works and improvements of man,
and then, on the approach of a force detached by
Washington, retreated back into the wilderness,
covered with human blood and scalps, loaded with
booty, and leaving behind them a sadder wilderness of
their own making—

‘When, where of yesterday a garden bloom’d,

Death overspread his pall, and blackening ashes gloom'd.’
The troops of Congress soon retaliated ; the regiments
Washington was sending were reinforced by a great
many riflemen of Morgan’s corps; and they rushed
upon the Indian settlements, destroyed their corn,
burned their villages, exterminated all they could
surprise, and forced the rest to retire farther from the
frontiers of the colonies. The red men who escaped
awaited another opportunity for revenge.”

PLAINS, GEOGRAPHICALLY CONSIDERED.
(Concluded from page 483.)

Llanos.—TueE whole interior of South America, from
the mountains of Caracas on the north tv the Straits of
Magalhaens on the south, is divided by comparatively
low transverse ridges, running east and west into
three great basins; that of the Orinoco on the north,
that of the Amazon or Marafion in the centre, and that
of the La Plata on the south. The first comprises the
Ilanos, vast plains occupying a surface of 260,000
square miles. They may be divided into two prin-

. cipal portions: the first, beginning at the mouths of

the Orinoco, extends westward as far as the Andes of
New Granada, being bounded on the north by the
Caracas, and on the south by the mountainous group

1812.]

soil and the great evaporation, are sufficient to arrest
of Parime and the Rio Apure, an affluent of the lower
Orinoco. The other portion of the llanos, which is
twice as extensive as the first, reaches from the Apure
on the north to the Caqueta (an affluent of the Ma-
ranon) on the south; having the Andes on the west,
and the sierra of Parime and the Orinoco on the east.
The inclination of these plains is to the east and south,
and they are traversed by many streams, which, taking
their rise from the eastern slope of the Andes, bear
their tributary waters to the Orinoco. As the medium
height of the Ilanos does not exceed two hundred feet,
the course of the rivers is very slow and often scarcely
perceptible.

The chief characteristic of the Ilanos, says Humboldt,
is the absolute want of hills and inequalities, the per-
fect level of every part of the soil. Often in the space
of two hundred and seventy square miles there js not
an eminence of a foot high. ‘This resemblance to the
surface of the sea strikes the imagination most power-
fully where the plains are altogether destitute of palm-
trees, and where the mountains of the shore and of the
Orinoco are so distant that they cannot be seen. This
unvarying equality of surface reigns without interrup-
tion from the mouths of the Orinoco to the Villa de
Aurore and Ospinos, under a parallel of five hundred
and forty miles in length, and from San Carlos to the
Caqueta, on a meridian of six hundred miles. |

There are however, notwithstanding this uniformity
of surface, two kinds of inequalities in the Jlanos. The
first, called brancos, are horizontal banks of sandstone
or limestone standing four or five feet higher than the
rest of the plain, and sometimes many Jeagues in
length. The second kind of inequality, called mesa,
consists of convex eminences rising to the height of a
few fathoins.

The anos have different names in different parts:
thus, from the Mouth of the Dragon, the llanos of
Cumana, of Barcelona, and of Caracas or Venezuela,
follow from east to west, when, turning southward from
8° N. lat., between the meridians of 67° 40’ and 70° 40’,
we find the llanos of Varinas, Casuare, the Meta, Gua-
viare, Caguan, and Caqueta. All these are again sub-
divided.

The aspect of the Llanos is somewhat dissimilar in
different places; but the greatest difference depends
upon the seasons. The local dissimilarity arises chiefly
frora the nature of the palm-trees scattered about,
which vary in different places, and also from the
greater or less abundance and variety of the dicotyle-
donous plants which are intermixed with the grasses,
the height of which latter is also very unequal, being
sometimes only a few inches at a distance from the
watercourses, and rising to a height of four feet in
their Roe In this high grass the jaguar, or Ame-
rican tiger, lurks to spring upon the mules and horses
that cross the plain. But the season of drought or of
rain entirely changes the aspect of the greater part of
the Jlanos. In the rainy season, says Humboldt, the
llanos display a heattitul verdiire: but in the time of
great drought they assume the aspect of a desert. The
frass is then reduced to powder, the earth cracks, the
alligators and great serpents remain buried in the
dried mud, till awakened from their long lethargy by
the first showers of spring. These phenomena are
observed on barren tracts of fifty or sixty leagues in
length where the llanos are not traversed by rivers.

The principal and almost the only trees of the llanos
are different varieties of palms. The Corypha tectorum,
or Palma de Cobija, solitary or in clumps, rises here
and there as a landmark through these trackless plains.
It is chiefly found in the llanos of Caracas from Mesa
de Peja, as far as Guayaval. Farther north and north-
west, near Guavare and San Carlos, its place is taken

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

492

by another species of the same genus. Other palm
trees appear to the south of Guayaval, especially the
Piritu, with pinnate leaves, and the Murtchi, whose
beautiful verdure, at the period of the greatest drought,
contrasts with the mournful aspect of the grey and
dusty leaves of the cobija. Two or three other species
of trees besides palms are also found in the Ilanos, and it
is round these clumps that the llanos are the most fertile.

The great wealth of the llanos consists in the nume-
rous herds which they feed. The first horned cattle
were lect loose in these extensive pastures by Christo-
val Rodriguez, about the year 1548, since which time
they have increased to almost countless numbers.
About nincty-eight thousand head of cattle are said to
wander in the pastures round Calaboza. But, accord-
ing to M. Depons, there are, from the mouths of the
Orinoco to the lake of Maracaybo, one million two
hundred thousand oxen, one hundred and ene! thou-
sand horses, and ninety thousand mules, the annual

roduce of which herds is estimated at about five mil-
ion francs. The richest proprietors are said to mark
as many as fourteen thousand head every year, and sell
to the number of five or six thousand. According to
official documents, prior to the Revolution the export-
ation of hides from the whole capitania-general
amounted annually, from the West India Islands alone,
to one hundred and seventy-four thousand skins of
oxen and eleven thousand of goats; and as in this
account no mention is made of fraudulent dealings in
hides, it would appear that the number of one million
two hundred thousand, stated above, is much under-
rated.

All the parts of the llanos are not equally favourable
for the breeding of mules and oxen; but in some of
those places, where the herds are less numerous, the
pastures are so fertile as to furnish meat of an excel-
lent quality for provisioning the coast.

The horses of the llanos are not ve
descended from a fine Spanish breed.
of these plains.

The greatest curiosity of the llanos are the zymnoti,
or electrical eels, which live in the pools as well as in
the rivers of this part of South America.

We may also mention, as distinguishing the Janos
from the pampas, and from the plains of North Ame-
rica, the Sahara, and the steppes of Asia, the total ab-
sence of any formation of muriate of soda.

, from an Indian word, which, in the Quichua
lancuge, signifies properly a flat, is the name given to
extensive plains in the southern and central parts of
South America. Those which lie to the south and
north-west of Buenos Ayres are called, the former the
Pampas of Buenos Ayres, or simply the Pampas, and
the latter the Pampas of Cordova. The plains to the
south of the province of Chiquitos bear the name of
the Pampas de Huanacos. There is also one more to
the north, between the river Beni and the river Mar-
more, a tributary of the Madeira; and lastly, to the
north, between Huallaga and the Ucayal, there is an-
other, called the Pampas del Sacramento.

The Pampas of Buenos Ayres are bordered on the
west by the forests which le along the base of the
Andes of Chile; on the east by the Atlantic; on the
south by the Rio Negro and Patagonia, the interior or
which, though little known, seems to be of the same
nature with the pampa itself; and on the north-cast
by the Rio de la Plata. In the direction due north the

ampa narrows between the Paranaand a ridge coming

rom the Andes, called the Sierra de Cordova.

This region, reckoning to the foot of the mountains
on the west, occupies a surface of about 315,0U0 square
miles. This plain has no general slope, or rather, it
slopes so gently towards the east, that the slightest in-
equalities, together with the ee a of the

large, but are
eer are natives

492 THE PENNY
the course of the waters; so that, with the exception of
the rivers Colorado and Negro, which come from the
Cordilleras, and which traverse the southern part of
the pampas, and the Salado, a small stream which flows
into the Rio de la Plata at its mouth, the pampas have
no running waters, but, instead of them, a great many
shallow pools, of which the water is often brackish.
There is one at about four hundred and fifty miles
from Buenos Ayres, in the direction west-south-west,
always filled with salt, from which the city of Buenos
Ayres was yearly supplied before the port was thrown
open to foreigners, The southern part of the pampas
is sandy, with patches of saline plants and stunted
trees: the northern parts are covered with grass, sup-
plying food to large herds of cattle and wild horses,
the descendants of those first introduced by the Spa-
niards. It is said that several million head of cattle
and about half as many horses feed on the Pampas of
Buenos Ayres. There are also wild beasts.

This plain is traversed by a road which leads from
Huenos Ayres to Chile, along which the traveller mects
with huts, which form stations, distant from each other
about seven or eight leagues. The journey may be
made on horseback or in a carriage, but it is sometimes
dangcrous, on account of the Indians.

The Pampa of Cordova extends from the right bank
of the Lower Parana to the Sierra de Cordova at the
west. On the north it joins the sandy plains or éravesta
of Santiago del Estero.

This pampa resembles that already described in all
things, excepting being traversed by a greater number
af streams. All these streams however, with the excep-
tion of the Rio Salado, which falls into the Parana, lose
themselves in the sands, or end in marshes and lakes
without issue, and which in the country are called La-
gunas. Such is particularly the case with the Rio
Dulce, which, rising ina fertile valley on the eastern
slope of one of the lateral chains of the Andes, passes
by S. Miguel de Tucuman and Santiago, and finally
cimpties itself into the Lagunas de las Porongos: the
same is also the case with Rio Primero, on which is
situated Cordova, the best of all the towns of Tucuman,
the residence of a bishop, and where the Jesuits had
formerly a celebrated university.

Throughout the whole of the country between the
Parana and the mountains to the west, from Chaco on
the north to the extreme southern extremity of the
Pampa of Buenos Ayres, says Azara, there is neither
river, lake, nor well that is not brackish. Even the
Pilcomayo and the Vermejo partake of this saltness ;
and the same author assures us that he has seen in
lagunas, dried up by the heat, a layer of IXpsom salts
above three inches in thickness.

The inhabitants of the fertile valleys lying to the
west and north of the plains of Tucuman, similar in
some respects to Little Bucharia, rich in their flocks,
without ambition, and without care, close the day in
rural amusements worthy of being sung by Theocritus
and Virgil. It is nevertheless true that there are
spaces of many square leagues in extent condemned
to absolute sterility. The traveller may pass for days
together over sands and stones, between which there
spring up here and there some saline plants, without
meeting with any other objects than a few isolated huts
on the arders of some brackish stream: these barren
districts are generally designated by the term travesta.

Pampa of Huanacos.—Leaving the Pampa of Cor-
dova on the south, and travelling through forests
swarming with bees, which extend beyond the Rio
Dulce and the Salado, we enter on the territory of the
Abipones, a race of very warlike Indians ; after which,
crossing the Rio Vermejo, we gain the plains of the
Gran Chaco, occupied by more or less savage indige-
nous tribes. This region is traversed by the Rio Pil-

MAGAZINE.

{ DecEMBER 17;

comayo, which, passing near the mines of Potosi, falls
into the Paraguay below the city of Assumption. To
the north lies the Pampa de Huanacos, adjoining the
province of Chiquitos, bounded on the east by the
great laguna of Xarayes, through which passes the
frontier of Brazil; on the west by the heights of
Santa Cruz de Sierra, and on the north by the forests
of the province of Moxos and the sandy plateau called
Campos Parexis.

Pampa de Moxos is on the north of the province of
Moxos, between the rivers Beni and Marmoré; and
between the junction of this latter and the Guapore,
another source of the Madeira, are other pampas of
considerable extent.

Pampa del Sacramento.—This pampa is situated on
the north-west of Cuzco. It differs from the other
pampas in having a more tropical vegetation, and in
its soil not being saline. It occupies a surface of
from 54,000 to 63,000 square miles.

Such are the principal pampas of South America ;
and, if we include a part of Patagonia as being of the
same nature with the pampas, we shall have, without
reckoning the pampas of Moxos and Sacramento, and
a number of spots of similar character but less extent,
an almost uninterrupted band, extending from the
Campos Parexis, in latitude 15° S., to the bay of St.
George in 45°, or about 2800 geographical miles long
and 300 wide, or a surface of 840,000 square miles of
plain, partly sand, and ead marshy and saline, and
producing hardly anything but pasture and a few
stunted trees. Humboldt estimates the whole of the
pampas of Rio de la Plata and Patagonia at 135,200
square leagues of 20 to the degree.

The Selvas, or forest-covered plain of the Maranon.
—Independent of the vast forests which cover great
part of the plains of North America, particularly on
the east of the Mississippi, there is the immense plain
of the Marafon in South America, extending over a
surface of 2,340,000 square miles, of which about
719,000 are covered with primeval forests, the rest of
the space being occupied by the waters, and by open
patches of a character similar to the llanos and savan-
nas, though little known. We merely mention this
region here as one of the most extensive continuous
plains in the world.

If the great plains we have described owe their pe-
culiar character to climate and situation, a very little
reflection will suffice to show the immense influence
which they in their turn must exercise over the climate
of the regions contiguous to them, and the great modi-
fications they must effect on mere astral temperature.
Indeed the curves of the isothermal lines sufficiently
prove that the several climates of the earth depend on
the joint action of solar irradiation, and the magnitude,
distribution, conformation, soil, and productions of the
solid parts of the globe, and the extent and relative
position of the great bodics of water by which they are
surrounded. Nor have the vast plains of Asia and
America performed a less important part in the moral
history of mankind, whether as having favoured or
opposed the emigrations of nations and the progress of
civilization.

Cavern in Corsica.—A discovery has been recently made at
Bastia, which will add another to the picturesque attractions of
Corsica, This is a grotto of stalactites. ‘ It would be diffi-
cult,” says the writer, “to find anywhere else, in a space so
small (though the grotto is nearly seventy-five metres in length,
by eight to ten iu width), poiuts of view more numerous, or
forms more varied. Pilasters, columns, great and small, capi-
tals, statues, rich draperies of matchless whiteness and transpa-
rency, stretch away, presenting, at every turn and winding, fresb
combinations and new perspectives.” It was by accident that
this grotto was discovered ; it is in the neighbourhood of a mag-
nificent cascade.

1842,"

4a
mM

.
}
t

(The Coronation of Henry IV.)

FROISSART AND HIS CHRONICLE.
No, XII.

RICHARD II. AND BOLINGBROKE.

Tue sudden success of Bolingbroke’s attempt on the
crown of the king who had banished him would be
inexplicable, if we looked merely on his talents, am-
bition, and wrongs on the one side, and Richard’s
weakness and vacillation on the other: it was the state
of England at the period in question that really deter-
mined the whole matter. When the people were
accustomed to talk, as Froissart says they were, in the
following extract, we can perceive how easily success
might be insured in the boldest attempts at change,

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

495

1y Me i , #
Wi ah 4
TESA
Ol MMA Te
nT iH = ey,
rt

ig i aC tH rat
Pe ite

Wee sy
Pil i ib.

Hl
ARO, |

by those properly qualified. The historian is referring
to the period immediately preceding that memorable
visit of the king to Ireland, from which he was to be
recalled by such startling intelligence. ‘“ The state
generally of all men in England began to murmur,
and to rise one against another, and ministering of
justice was clean stopped up in all courts of England ;
whereof the valiant men and prelates, who loved rest
and peace, and were glad to pay their duties, were
ereatly abashed: for there rose in the realm companies
in divers routs, keeping the field and highways, so that
merchants durst not ride abroad to exercise their mer-
chandise for doubt of robbing; and no man knew to
whom to complain to do them right, reason, and justice,
which things were right prejudicial and displeasant to
the good people of England, for it was contrary to their
accustomable usage: for all people, labourers and
merchants, in England were wont to live in rest and
peace, and to occupy their merchandise peaceably, and
the labourers to enaar their land quietly ; and then it
was contrary, for when merchants rode from tewn to
town with their merchandise, and had either gold or

f rae .
— os ' a r a’
‘ “wm ' af
iva * ‘
\ =, de 3.

ie ;

454

silver in their purses, it was taken from them; and
from other men and labourers out of their houses these
companions would take wheat, oats, beefs, muttons,
porks, and the poor men durst speak no word. These
evil deeds daily multiplied, so that great complaints
and lamentations were made thereof throughout the
realm, and the good people said, ‘ The time is changed
upon us from good to evil, ever since the death of
good King Edward III., in whose days justice was
well kept and ministered. In his days there was no
man so hardy in England to take a hen or a chicken,
or a sheep, without he had paid truly for it; and now-
a-days, all that we have is taken from us, and yet we
dare not speak: these things cannot long endure; but
that England is likely to be lost without recovery.
We have a King now that will do nothing: he intendeth
but to idleness, and to accomplish his pleasure, and by.
that he showeth he careth not how everything goeth,
so he may have his will. It were time to provide for
remedy, or else our enemies will rejoice and mock us.’”
That remedy, no doubt, their favourite Henry of Lan-
caster appeared to them the hee man to apply, when
the rumour circulated through the length and breadth
of the land that he was returned from his banishment,
indignant at the most unjust seizure of his family pos
sessions on the death of his father, a few months before,
and determined upon redress. ok

The principal events—with all their minute details—
of this deeply interesting history, are so well known,
that we shall merely refer to them in passing: such
are Bolingbroke’s rapid march to London, where he
appeared in an incredibly short space of time after the
first news of his landing at Ravenspur, and with an
army of 60,000 men; the drawing over to his interests
of his and the king’s uncle, the Duke of York, who
had’ been left regent by Richard during his absence ;
the march towards the coast to meet the unfortunate
Richard almost at his very landing; the landing at
Milford Haven and the desertion of tke king by most
of his troops; his surrender to the Earl of Northum-
berland at Flint Castle, and the meeting at the same
place with Bolingbroke ; the journey together to Lon-
don; and lastly, the forced renunciation of the crown
in the Tower. This over, one relief was allowed to him
—he was permitted to retire to his prison solitude, and
fec]l that whatever fate might yet await him, his sorrows
and misfortunes were no longer to be a public show;
he was spared from personally participating in what
yet remained of Bolingbroke's triumph, the public
announcement of his accession to the throne, and all
the pomp and bustle of the coronation.

It was, says Froissart, “in the year of our Lord 1399,
the Jast day of September, on a Tuesday, began a par-
Jiament at Westminster, holden by Henry, duke of
Lancaster, at which time there was assembled prelates
aud clergy of the realm of England, a great number,
and also dukes, earls, and barons, and of every town a
certain representative or representatives. Thus, the
people assembled at Westminster, there being present
the Duke of Lancaster; and there the same Duke
challenged the realm of England, and desired to be
king by three reasons :—first, by conquest; secondly,
because he was heir; and thirdly, because Richard of
Bourdeaux had resigned the realm into his hands by his
free will, in the presence of certain dukes, earls, pre-
lates, and barons, in the hall within the Tower of Lon-
dou. These three causes showed, the Duke of Lan-
caster required all the people there present, as well one
as other, to show their minds and interests in that be-
half. Then all the people with one voice said, ‘ That
their wills was to have him king, and how they would
have none other but him.’ Then the Duke again said
to the people, ‘ Sirs, is this your mind” and they all
with one voice said, ‘Yea! Yea! And then the Duke

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

[DEecEmBER 17,

sat down in the siege (seat) royal, which scat was
raised up in the hall, and covered with a cloth of estate,
so that every man might well see him sit. And then
the people lifted up their hands on high, promising
him their faith and allegiance. Then the parliament
concluded.” It appears from other authorities, that in
the course of the proceedings this day certain articles
of impeachment, thirty-three in number, were read,
and Richard declared guilty of them all; one voice
alone, it is said, being raised in his favour, that of
Thomas Merks, bishop of Carlisle, whose reward was
an arrest at the close of his speech, and a committal as
prisoner to the Abbey of St. Alban’s.

The day chosen for the coronation was “St. Ed-
ward's day, Monday, the 13th day of October ; at which
time, the Saturday before his coronation, he departed
from Westminster, and rode to the Tower of London
with a great number ; and that night all such esquircs
as should be made knights the next day watched, who
were tothe number of forty-six ; every squire had his
baine (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 straight sleeves, furred
with minever, like prelates, with white laces hanging
on their shoulders. And after dinner the duke de-
parted from the Tower to Westminster, and rode all
the way bareheaded, and about his neck the livery of
France. He was accompanied with the prince, his
son, and six dukes, six earls, and eighteen barons; and
in all, knights and squires, a nine hundred horse. Then
the king had on a short coat of cloth of gold, after the
manner of Almaine, and he was mounted on a white
courser, and the garter on his left leg. Thus the duke
rode through London with a great number of lords,
every lord’s servant in their master’s livery. All the
burgesses and Lombard merchants in London, and
every craft with their livery and device. Thus he was
conveyed to Westminster. He was in numbcr a six
thousand horse; and the streets (were) hanged as he
passed by ; and the same day and the next there were
in London running seven conduits with wine, white
and red. That night the duke was bained (bathed),
and the next morning he was confessed, and heard
three inasses, as he was accustomed to do, and ‘then all
the prelates and clergy came from Westminster church
to the palace to fetch the king with procession. And
s0 went to the church in procession, and all the lords
with him in their robes of scarlet furred with minever,
barred of (on) their shoulders, according to their de-
grees; and over the king was borne a cloth of estate
of blue, with four bells of gold; and it was borne by
four burgesses of the ports, as Dover and other ;* and
on every (each) side of him he had a sword borne, the
one the sword of the church, and the other the sword
of justice: the sword of the church his son the prince
did bear, and the sword of justice the Earl of North-
umberland did bear, for he was as then constable of
England (for the Earl of Rutland was deposed from
that office): and the Earl of Westmoreland, who was
marshal of England, bare the sceptre. Thus they en-
tered into the church about nine of the clock, and in
the midst of the church there was a high scaffold all
covered with red, and in the midst thereof there was a
chair royal, covered with cloth of gold. Then the
king sat down in the chair, and he sat in estate royal,
saving he had not on the crown, but sat bareheaded.
Then at four corners of the scaffold, the archbishop of
Canterbury showed unto the people how God had sent
unto them a man to be their king, and demanded if
they were content that he should be consecrated and
crowned as their king: and they‘all with one voice

* “The barons or burgesses of the Cinque Ports still enjoy
the right of carrying the canopy at the coronation.”"—Note by
Lditor of last edition of Lord Berner's Translation,

1842, ] THE PENNY
said ‘Yea!’ and held up their hands, promising faith
and obedience. Then the king rose and went down to
the high altar to be sacred (consecrated), at which con-
secrauion there were two archbishops and ten bishops,
and before the altar there he was despoiled out of all
his vestures of estate, and there he was anointed in six
places—on the head, the breast, and on the two
Shoulders behind, and on the hands; then a bonnet
was set on his head. And while he was anointing, the
clergy sang the Liturgy and such service as they sing
at the hallowing of the font. Then the king was ap-
parelled like a prelate of the church, with a cope of
red silk, and a pair of spurs with a point without a
rowel; then the sword of justice was drawn out of the
sheath and hallowed, and then it was taken to the king,
wno did put it again into the sheath; then the arch-
bishop of Canterbury did gird the sword about him ;
then St. Edward’s crown was brought forth (which is
close above) and blessed; and then the archbishop did
sect it on the king’s head. After mass the king de-
parted out of the church in the same estate, and went
to his palace, and there was a fountain that ran by
divers branches white wine and red. Then the king
entered into the hall, and so into a privy chamber, and
after came out again to dinner.”

Not the least extraordinary part of Richard’s history
is the mystery which envelops its termination. In the
month following the coronation, the House of Lords,
in answer to the new king’s request, that they would
consider what should be done with his captive pre-
decessor, advised his close confinement in some castle,
the knowledge of which should be kept secret. Richard
was in consequence removed privately from London a
few days after. Nothing more was known till Fe-
bruary following, when it was rumoured abroad that
he was dead ; and in March his remains were brought
up with due ceremony from Pontefract Castle to Lon-
don, and there publicly shown. These facts comprise
all the information we possess on the matter, the rest
is mere guesswork or tradition. Among the different
statements put forth, none of them traceable to any
trustworthy source, one was to the effect that he had
been murdered by Sir Piers Exton and certain assist-
ants by blows from their battle-axes; but when his
tomb in Westminster Abbey was opened some years
since, no evidence of any such violence could be dis-
covered on the skull. Another relation makes the
miserable sovereign starve himself to death; whilst a
third, and perhaps the best supported of the whole,
attributes his death also to famine, but makes his in-
human keepers the murderers. In the manifesto
issued by the Percies against Henry IV., not long after,
when they were preparing for the decisive struggle at
Shrewsbury, Bolingbroke is charged with causing
Richard to perish from hunger, thirst, and cold, after
fifteen days and nights of sufferings unheard of among
Christians. But there is even yet a fourth story, ac-
cording to which Richard escaped from confinement,
and lived in Scotland nineteen years after. On the
whole, we are very much in the same position that
Froissart was when he wrote.on the subject; who
frankly acknowledges, “but how he died, and by
what means, I could not tell when I wrote this
Chronicle.”

ON MEDAL OR RELIEF ENGRAVING.

Many readers of English periodicals, within the last
few years, may have noticed and admired the remark-
able attempts to represent, by engraving on a flat
plate, the raised device on a medal, medallion, cameo,
orcoin. These have been so singularly deceptive in

their appearance, that it is difficult to resist the belief; to be copied. The ccin is laid down flat

MAGAZINE. 495
that the device is actually raised from the paper ; an |
it may not be uninteresting to explain briefly the
nature and history of the process.

One of the first specimens of this kind of engraving
made publicly known in England was that of the
head of Roger Bacon, forming the frontispiece to Mr.
Babbage’s ‘ Economy of Machinery and Manufactures,’
published in 1832. In that work Mr. Babbage de-
scribed the general nature of the machine by which the
engraving was effected, and stated that the idea had
been roughly sketched in a French work called the
‘ Manuel de Tourneur,’ several years ago. Circum-
stances afterwards led to the promulgation of two
methods, or rather, of the fact that two methods were
in practice; and these came under the notice of parlia-
ment about five or six years ago, in relation toa
subject of national interest.

It is known that the British Museum contains a very
valuable collection of coins, which, if brought more
within the cognizance of the public, might usefully
illustrate the history of the times and reigns during
which the coins and medals were struck. ‘To aid in
this object, it had often been proposed to engrave these
coins, the size, device, and general appearance of each
coin being represented as accurately as possible by the
graver. But it has all along been felt that this enter-
pres would not pay as a private speculation; and

ence attention began to be paid to the question,
whether or not the government would assist in this
object. Accordingly a London publisher petitioned
the House of Cominons, praying for assistance towards
the publication of a work on the subject of a ‘ Medallic
Illustration of British History,’ the plates for which
were to be engraved by a machine invented by M.
Collas, a French artist, and worked by a firm to whom
the patent in that invention belonged. Two works,
one relating to the Great Seals of England, and the
other bearing the title of the ‘ Tresor Numisma-
tique,’ had been produced by this process: and the
same was proposed to be adopted in the projected
work. A Committee of the House of Commons, em-
ployed in collecting evidence relating to the British
Museum, had its attention drawn both to this process
and to another invented by Mr. Bate. Many conflicting
stateinents were made in reference to the comparative
excellence of the two methods, as is generally the case
under such circumstances; but we shall be able to
describe the methods without entering into the dis-
cussion.

It may assist in conveying a notion of medal-en-
graving if we first allude to the ‘silhouette’ or profile
machine. Here the person whose profile is to be
taken sits in a convenient position in a chair; and the
long arm of aslender rod or lever, extending right
and left with respect to the sitter, passes down the
prominent features of the face, touching the forehead,
nose, lips, and chin, in succession. A fulcrum or
pivot is situated near the other end of the rod, in
which it turns; whence it is easy to see that the end of
the smaller section of the rod must describe a line
precisely similar to that of the larger, but smaller and
inverted. A sheet of paper is so placed that a pencil,
attached to the small arm of the lever, will trace on it
a line similar to the profile line of the face, and
thereby furnishing the first element for a profile por-
trait. We may for convenience call the longer arm
the tracer, and the shorter the etcher.

Now in the process of medal-engraving by a ma-
chine there is a tracer and also an etcher, so connected
by a fulcrum or pivot, that every movement of the
etcher is governed by that of the tracer. Beyond this
point the analogy ceases. Suppose the coin to be one
having a device in bold relief on the surface which is
with the de-

=P ee

496 THE PENNY

vice uppermost; and near it is placed the plate of
copper in which the engraving is to be effected, the
copper being in a vertical position. A peculiar bent
lever is so arranged over the coin, that while a hori-
zontal arm, springing from the fulcrum, touches the
copper plate, another and vertical arm descends to the
surface of the coin. The tracer-point of this lever is
simply a fine metallic point, while the etching-point is
a diamond or some other hard substance capable of
easily cutting into the surface of the copper, or rather,
into an etching-ground laid on the copper: the adjust-
inent is such that every movement of the coin is ac-
companied by a movement of the copper plate, with-
out disturbing the angle which the one bears to the
other.

Such being the arrangement, Iet us suppose the
traccr -point to pass over a flat or level portion of the
coin, &nd in a line parallel with the copper plate. The
diamond-etcher would in such case evidently draw a
straight horizontal line on the copper plate, which
might then be deemed the representative of the line
marked out by the tracer. But let the tracer pass
over an elevated portion of the device, such as the
head on a coin; and what would then result? As the
tracer is vertical, and its point touches the coin, it
must evidently rise and fall according as it passes over
proces and hollows in the device, the greatest

eight being attained whicn the point is resting on the
boldest parts of the relief. This rise and fall in the
level of the tracer produces a corresponding movement
in the etcher, so that the latter, instead of describing a
straight horizontal line on the copper plate, describes
2a curved line, the boldness of the curvature corre-
sponding exactly with the boldness of the relief in the
coin; the line is in fact a representation of the section
of the surface of the coin at the part where the tracer
touches it.

By a succession of such lines as are here alluded to,
a multitude of sections of the coin become represented
on the copper plate. An adjustment of the machine
causes the tracer to pass over nearly every part of the

‘surface of the coin in parallel lines, the point of the

tracer rising wherever an elevation in the device
occurs, and sinking in the opposite case. The con-
nection between the tracer and the etcher necessarily
leads to this result, that an equal number of lines be-
come marked on the copper plate. But it may now
be asked, how these lines appear; what device do they
put on? If the coin were merely a piece of blank
money without device, the copper plate would exhibit
a series of uniform parallel lines, without device, with-
out light and shadow, without any semblance of a
picture. But the lines are eeealnily separated ; they
are sometimes so closely congregated as to present
almost a mass of black; while in other parts they are
so wide apart as to leave nearly a white space ; and in
others, ail intermediate degrees are presented. The
higher or bolder the device on a medal or coin, the
more striking is the contrast between the light
which falls on its different parts, and the more un-
equal the width of the lines in the copper plate—the
only element to which the appearance of relief in the
engraving is duc.

Such is the principle on which the old medal-en-
graving machines acted, before the introduction of
improvements calculated to remove certain inac-
curacies in the method. It is quite true that the
varying distances of the lines give an appearance of
relief to the engraving ; but unless the light parts in
the engraving exactly correspond in position with
those in the medal, the engraving must appear
distorted. Such was the case with the old machines;
a feature always appeared too long or too broad, too

thin, or too thick, according to the mode of adjustment |

MAGAZINE. [DEcEMBEk 1%,
of the machine: the nose was in some instances driven
down towards the chin; in others driven upwards
towards the forchead; and the stronger the relief in
the coin or medal, the greater the amount of this
distortion, & distortion which was inseparable from the
old construction of the machine.

To remove or lessen this distortion was the object of
both the parties before named, who independently
entered upon the subject about a dozen years ago.
Mr. Bate succeeded in effecting an alteration in the
principle of the machine, by which the distortion was
wholly removed; the change being a very ingenious
application of a mathematical relation between certain
lines. In this new form of the machine, the tracer,
instead of passing over the coin in a vertical position,
that is, at right angles to the base of the coin, inclines
at an angle of 45°, midway between the horizontal and
the vertical direction, so that the lines marked on the
vopper are somewhat different in their curvatures and
arrangement from those produced when the tracer is
held in a vertical position. The remarkable effect of
this change is, that the light and dark portions beconie
distributed in the plate in exactly the same manner as
on the coin, whereby the semblance of relief is given
to the former without that distortion of the device
which followed from the use of the old machine. If
the angle at which the tracer is fixed-were made 30°
or 6U”, or any other, than 45°, it is capable of demon-
stration (though it cannot be well shown here) that
the same evil would exist as in the old machine, but
in a different degree.

In the Parliamentary Committee before alluded to,
Mr. Brockedon, after explaining the action of the
different machines, zave an instance to show how
rapidly this style of engraving can be executed. Pro-
ducing an engraving of a medal, executed by Mr.
Bate’s machine, he remarked :—“ This large medal of
Henry [V., about four inches in diameter, was begun
last evening at four o'clock, and finished at two o’cluck
this morning, that is, finished in the tracing upon the
etching-ground: it then went into the hands of an
inferior artist, who bit the lines traced through the
ground with an acid; and it is now a proof that if an
artist had superintended it, it would have united all
the beauties of such a work of art.”

“Some of the London newspapers have, within the
last few years, given to thcir subscribers copies o!
medallion engravings, generally portraits of sovereigns
and other noted persunages. If the reader has an
opportunity to inspect any one of these, he will tlic
better understand many of the above details. It will
be gecn that each line is continuous from one edge of
the plate to the other; straight in some parts, and
curved in others, but unbroken in all. This makes the
regular and steady progress of the tracing-point over
the medallion from which the engraving was taken,
yielding to the hollows and depressions wherever they
occurred. If any light part of the engraving be
closely examined, it will be seen how this lightness of
tint results from a wider separation of the lines at that
particular part,—often by a singularly tortuous direc-
tion assumed by the Jines; but though tortuous, they
are not broken; the lines still exist, though unusually
separated at this spot. If in a similar manner we
inspect the details of the engraving at a darkly-shaded
part, or a part which looks like a depressed cavity, we
shall see that the lines, without being broken, are
grouped closely together. This, so far as darkness of
tint being produced by many lines close together, is
no more than occurs in common line-engravings; but
it js the circumstance of these being unbroken lines,
extending across the engravings which ‘illustrates the
nature of this peculiar branch of the fine arts,

=e ee ee

1342.4 THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 497.

(Irish Children.}

IRISH SKETCHES.—No. IV.
WATER-CARRIERS.

Ir is difficult to estimate all we have lost to the pic-
turesque by the introduction of a New River or a West
Middlesex Water Company—the graceful forms which
haunted the approach to every spring or conduit—
graceful always, as the act of carrying any vessel on the
head compels a strict regard to the motion, and ren-
ders it ‘sober, steadfast, and demure.” ‘The groups
scattered round waiting each its turn, talking over
the news of the district,—the failings or misfortunes,
the joys or sorrows of their neighbours and friends
—the old to recall the past—the young to specu-
late on the future—the grandmother to look after her
grandchildren, each with a vessel proportioned to its
powers—the child to tend the steps of its blind grand-

no means become universal, and consequently the well
or the burn has still its attractive groups of young and
old carrying, in vessels of every shape and material,
this great indispensable, and where the wildness of the
dress gives the frequent beauty of such spots its full
effect and animation.

The group at the head of this notice was a portion
of a party so occupied in the neighbourhood of Cork—
the scene was further enlivened by parties of women
engaged in washing and beating linen in the stream,
while others were drying it on the spot or carrying it
off on their heads to a more convenient place for the
same purpose.

ON MODEL-MAPPING OR RELIEF-MAPS.
Ir is familiarly known to those who are in the habit ot

father—the lover accidentally calling to drink at the | consulting the best maps, that an attempt is taere made
moment his mistress has been Jed to the spot in her | to age inequalities in the level of the stone b
ines

care for the good of others—where the dogs and children |

of the neighbourhood, having been to drink, remain to
play—all combine to render the spot the most attrac-
tive in its locality.

“may be supposed to fall; and

peculiar modes of introducing engraved
range of mountains, for instance, is represented by
leaving white or nearly white the parts whereon light

shraw ine into dark

In Ireland this innovation on the picturesque has by shadow, by a thick congregation of lines, the spot

No. 688.

498 THE PENNY
which may represent the opposite declivity of the
range. This is commonly done to a certam extent m
all maps, except those of a very inferior kind ; and in
naps of high character, such as those resulting from
the Ordnance Surveys of England and Ircland, an en-
deavour is made to represent the greater or less degrees
of elevation by a greater or less depth of shadow.

But all such attempts fail to convey vividly to the
mind a correct idea of the inequalitics of level ex-
hibited by the country mapped out; and when the
map is to be used as the basis of engineering opera-
tions, such as those in which the level of streams and
lakes is concerned, the defect becomes of greater im-
portance. Hence have originated various plans, at-
tended with more or less success, having for their ob-
ject the representation of districts in relzef, by con-
structing copies which occupy a medium place between
models and maps, and may thercfore be conveniently
termed “ model-maps.”

The representation of objects in which the height
bears a notable proportion to the horizontal extent has
been of old effected by means of models; but the
raised representation of a district which, "however di-
versified in level whenever viewed by the eye, bears in
elevation but a sinall ratio to its extent, has not been
brought prominently into notice until recently. Mili-
tary engincers have been in the habit of constructing
inodels of celebrated fortresses, nountain forts, and
other fortified forts, with a view of illustrating, more
clearly than can be effected by maps, the general
bearing of the various operations connected with mili-
tary proceedings. For instance, whoever has visited
the United Service Museum, in Whitehall Place, may
have seen a model of part of the Island of St. Vincent,
with the fortifications erected on it; and another, as
inuch as six or seven feet square, of the intrenched
camp at Linz in Upper Austria, executed on a scale of
one inch to a hundred yards, and exhibiting the undu-
lations of the ground, together with the positions of al]
the several parts of the intrenchment. Again, the Ro-
tunda, or Military Repository, at Woolwich, exhibits nu-
merous specimens of this class of models ; dupa ndent
of model-plans of the dockyards at Deptford, Chatham,
Woolwich, Portsmouth, and Plymouth, there are
models of many noted fortresses, such as that of Gibral-
tar, in which the height and the horizontal dimensions
bear the same relation to cach other in the model as in
nature, The United Service Museum contains also
two specimens of that which comes more under the
denomination of model-mapping, viz., a French relief-
map of the district of Neutchatel, and an English re-
lief-map of Edinburgh ; each map presenting approxi-
inately the inequalities in the level of the district
depicted. But perhaps the most extraordinary pro-
duction of this kind ever yet produced was the model
or relief-map of the field of Waterloo, exhibited in
London a few years ago. This modcl exhibited, on a
surface of four hundred and twenty square fect, the
whole field of Waterloo, with all the diversified fea-
tures of the spot—fields of grass and standing corn,
woods, vineyards, gardens, hedges, trees, fallow lands—
all represented at such elevations, and with such
contours of surface, as were analogous to those exhi-
bited in nature. Thetwo hundred thousand minutely
modelled figures of soldiers and horses we do not here
particularly refer tu, but to the mode of representing
the physical features of a district.

The importance of modecl-mapping, hitherto con-
fined principally to military matters, is now beginning
to attract attention in reference to irrigation and
draining, a8 well as to the most important departments
of civil engineering. Mr. Denton, who has devised a
mode of constructing model-maps, and has written a
smalt work on the subject, remarks :—“ Draining

MAGAZINE. [DecemBER 24,
would obviously be rendered easicr iu design, and
more ‘practicable in execution. if the operator had
before him the resemblance, in accurate dimensions,
of each rise and fall of the ground ; and the capability
of systeinatizing the drainage of the different tenantcies,
so that they might be made subservient to one general
order of drainage, would by such reference be simph-
fied. For example,—in the model-inap the lower
grounds of an estate or di8trict being shown in depres-
sion, the course of all main drains or sewers would
have to be directed through such depressions, and all
other drains and sewers would be collaterally arranged
and worked into thein with accuracy and facility. This
observation applies to all ground and property where
draining can be effected.” In these model-inaps the
object is to show not only the undulations of the
ground, but al] the houses, buildings, wouds, hedges,
mounds, and hollows, by appropriate elevations and
cavities ; every portion of land being represented, so
that when coloured it may indicate the state of hus-
bandry at that spot. In such a map the relative levels
of different parts may be ascertained by taking a hori-
zontal plane at a given distance above the model, and
letting fall perpendiculars from that plane to the
model, which perpendiculars will be longer or shorter
according as the surface is more or less depressed, and
may be compared with a scale in such a manner as to
give the relative elevations of the different parts.

The substance of which these models or inodel-maps
may be made affords scope for extended inquiry.
Each manufacturer or patentee probably uses some
material which he deems most fitting, and which, in
most cases, he keeps to a certain extent secret. Cork
has been much employed for the construction of
models, from its lightness, its durability, and the ease
with which it may be cut: this was, we believe, the
material of which the model of the battle of Waterloo
was formed. If a inould were formed of the object to
be represented, then a cast might be obtained from
this mould in any of the usual substances, such as
plaster of Paris, or sulphur, or wax, or clay, or any
other plastic or fusible material; but if the object be
produced by modelling, then the material must be |
such as will admit of being cut with knives and chisels,
and worked with bjunt tools. The determination of
these two circumstances must obviously depend on the
purpose for which the model-imap 1s intended ; whether
il is to be for the use of one party only, or to be dif-
fused, like books or prints, by multiplied copies. For
example, if a model of a fortress or fortified town
were required as a military curiosity, only one such
would be necessary, and this one would be modelled by
hand out of such materials as might be decmed most
proper for that ur Pose. But if a relief-map of a
district were published, this would be regarded some-
what in the light of a published print or map, of which
many copies have to ee sold before the expenses can
be repaid. In such case cach individual copy would
not be modelled, but moulded, or stamped, or pressed :
a meuld or a die (according to the nature of the
method) being first prepared, in which cavities are re-
resented by projections and projections by cavities.
Ve inay take as instances two remarkable relief-maps
lately published in London, one a map of Loudon, and
the other a map of Europe. In these maps all raised
portions of ground are represented by raised portions
of the maps, the ground or base-plane of the map
being so chosen as to allow depth for all the depres-
sions to be represented. Now, in these cases, the maps
are published, at so much per copy, a price being
charged which could not possibly be sufficient to defray
the expense of modelling each one individually; and
therefore a mould is first made, or cast from the origi-
nal model, and impressions taken from this mould ;

1812. |

or else a die is made, which is stamped on some plas-
tic material (for we are speaking rather of the general
principles of such productions, than of any one par-
ticular method).

The spread of the use of relief-maps or model-maps
will thus be a good deal dependent on the employment
of some apt material for the cast and impression.
Within the Jast few years a new material has come ex-
tensively into use in architectural decorations, which
secms calculated to be very valuable in this respect,
and which indeed has, we believe, already been used
for that purpose; we mean papier-mache. Everybody
is now familiar with the beautiful examples of em-
bossed drawing-board, card-board, and pasteboard which
afford such evident proofs of the facility with which
paper and pasteboard will receive impressions from a
die or stamp; but the use of odd fragments of coarse
paper for a similar purpose—or rather, for the forma-
tion of coarser and stouter devices—is not so generally
known. Boyle in the last century made use of a re-
mark which shows that a substance analogous to
papier-maché was known in his day; he says:—
“Though paper be one of the commonest bodies that
we use, there are very few that imagine it is fit to be
employed other ways than in writing, or printing, or
Wrapping up of other things, or about some such ob-
vious piece of service, without dreaming that frames
of pictures and divers fine pieces of embossed work,
with other curious moveables, may, as trial has in-
formed us, be made of it.” The name applied to this
material would seem to indicate that it is of French
origin; but in an article in the ‘Encyclopédie Mé-
thodique,’ written about half a century ago, the ma-
terial is referred to as in use in England, thus—“ The
English make in pasteboard ornaments which we
make in plaster; they are more durable ; they become
loosened with difficulty; and when loosened, the
danger is slight and the expense of reparation small.”
It was in architectural decoration that ‘“‘ papier-maché,”
or carton-pierre (stone-pasteboard) was first extensively
introduced. The interior ornaments of buildings in
the Elizabethan style were formerly modelled by hand,
in moist plaster laid upon the walls and ceiling. ‘ As
this work had to be done on the spot,” it has been ob-
served, “and with much rapidity of execution, in order
to prevent the stucco from setting before it had ac-
quired the intended form, the art was somewhat diffi-
cult; the workman had to design almost as he worked ;
therefore, to do it well, it was necessary that he should
have some of the acquirements and qualities of an
artist. This circumstance of course tended very much
to limit the number of workmen, and their pay be-
came proportionably Jarge. It was no unnatural con-
sequence that artizans thus circumstanced assumed
a consequence that belonged not to their humble rank
in life: it is said that they might have been seen
coming to their work girt with swords, and having
their wrists adorned with Jace ruffics.” This state of
things led to a more independent tone on the part of
the workman than was consistent with the rapid exe-
cution of work; and the method of modelling gradu-
ally gave way to the use of ornaments cast in plaster.
This, in its turn, is now giving way to the use of
papier-maché, which is only one-sixth as heavy as
ee and 1s much less fragile than stone, marble, or
wood.

Papier-maché is made of pasteboard and paper pre-
pared in various ways so as to assume the state of a
pulp or paste, which is pressed into the moulds or dies
destined to give the device. Great improvements have
been recently made in the preparation of the material,
so as to combine the qualities of toughness and fine-
ness; and the decorations in various parts of the
Qucen’s palace, King’s College, the British Museum,

THE PENNY

MAGAZINE. qua
the Pantheon, the House of Lords, and many of the
club-houses, show how well it has Leen brought to
bear upon architectural design by Mr. Bielefeld.
How far it has been or js now being used in the modcel-
mapping process, inventors have not in general
stated; but Major Mitchell, when he presented, two or
three years ago, a model of the Pyrenees to the
United Service Museum, made a remark which shows
one application of the substance in connection with
models. In a letter to one of the vice-presidents he
said (we quote from the ‘ United Service Journal’)—“I
beg that no cast may be taken frum the model, as this
might affect my copyright to those already made in
copper and papicr-maché.”

Ve may remark, as a curious instance of the con-
nection between model-mapping and medal-engraving
(the latter of which subjects was briefly noticed ina
recent article), that Major Mitchell's model-map has
been engraved by Mr. Bate’s machine; so that the
hilly districts of the Pyrenees are not only represented
by protuberances on the map, but also by the peculiar
bold relicf-like mode of engraving effected by the
“ Anaglyptograph”—the somewhat complex name
given by Mr. Bate to his machine.

Summer-time of the Swiss Herdsmen.—The real life of the
chélet is at all times one of labour aud hardship; nor must we
take our general idea of it from those chdlet-auberges, as they
may be called, that are within the common reach of travellers.
In the higher stations, which are uot accessible to females, the
men, as may be imagined, are altogether wild in their appear
ance and habits. They live in the most disgusting dirt, amidst
smoke within and the manure of the cattle without. The chdlets
in their best state are miserably cold, admitting the wind, from
whatever point of the compass it may blow, between the inter-
stices of the trunks of pines of which they are built. The ‘ move.
ables" consist. of nothing but the cauldron and utensils fur the
milk and cheese, aud a large plank for atable: neither chairs
nor beds enter into the furniture department: dried grass, about
a foot in thickness, seldom changed, and a few coarse woollen
blankets on which they lie down night after night, without
taking off their clothes, serve for one common couch. In some
of the districts the shepherds watch all the first week that their
cattle come on the heights, for fear they should fall over the pre-
cipices, or wander amoug the glaciers; afterwards they take it in
turn to sleep and watch. In those places where chcese cannot
be made on account of scarcity of wood, and the pasturage is in
Consequence appropriated only to feeding cattle and horses, or,
as in the higher Alps, goats and sheep, the herdsmen have no
other shelter than the hollows of the rocks, and bivouac in the
open air along with the objects of their care. During the furty
days the season Jasts on those highest heights, the men never taste
either bread, meat, or wine: they subsist entirely on milk, which,
added to the purity of the air, agrees with them so well, that
they always descend into the valleys, after their probation, with
a considerable increase of embonpoint, and uniformly leave their
stormy solitary regious with great reluctance. Where cheese is
made, the men generally receive their wages in the material they
manufacture, at the rate of about eight pounds per annum Eng-

‘lish money. They are fond of the cattle, without paying much

attention to their comfort. They take no care to protect them
from the noontide heats or storms, baviug no building of any
kind to shelter them under; and they suffer them to graze about,
straggling as they will, when by a little attention they might
make the grass support nearly double the number. They attract
the cows at milking-time with salt, of which they give them
great quantities; and they ease the labour of milking them by
sitting during the operation on little low stuols, which they carry
for that pu , ready strapped round the latter end of their

rsons, producing an effect more characteristic than poetical.

he cheeses on the higher Alps are finer-flavoured than those on
the lower, on accourt of the aromatic herbs more abundantly
produced there, and which supply the place of salt in the pre-
servation of the cheese.—A/rs. Strutt's Domestic Resnde:ce im

Surtzerland,

‘ 35 2

OL aE

° at tee rg net

3CO THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

HONG-KONG.

Tuis island has now become an integral part of the
ritish empire, and likely to become also the chief seat
of a most important and extensive commerce, destined

coi to unite in amicable intercourse the three
sh

undred and sixty millions of the hitherto isolated,
though certainly not uncivilized Chinesc, with the
more active and enterprising inhabitants of what we
are accustomed to call the civilized world. Peaceful
but independent relations with such a country cannot
but be productive of reciprocal benefit to all parties,
aud will, we hope, be henceforward maintained. Our
_purpose now, however, is to give a short account of the
present state of an island in which commerce with its
attendant population will probably speedily work ex-
tensive alterations.

Hong-Kong is one of a group of rocky islands at
the extreme eastern boundary of the estuary of the
Choo-kiang or Canton fiver, and of these it is the most
northerly, and nearest to the continent, from which it
is divided by a strait varying in breadth from one mile
to six. It is situated in Jat. 22° 17’ N. and long. 11-4°
12’ E., about forty miles east from Macao, and about
a hundred miles trom Canton. Itis about eight miles
iong, and, according to Dr. M‘Pherson, two and a half
in breadth at its widest part, while K. S. Mackenzie
and Captain J. Elliott Bingham speak of its being five
miles broad. ‘The island is rocky, and of a forbidding
appearance at a distance, but on a nearer examination
there are found many rich and fertile portions inter-
spersed, and it is abundantly supplied with good water ;
indeed its name is a corruption of the Chinese words
Hoong-Keang, the red torrent, so called from the co-

[December 24,

lour of the soil through which a stream flows, forming
a fine cascade from a cliff adjacent to the harbour,
into which it flows, affording great facility to ships
taking in fresh water.

The number of native inhabitants is variously
stated at from one thousand to seven thousand five
hundred, but all the recent writers concur in stating
the great influx of inhabitants since our possession of
it, and one, Captain Bingham, estimates the present
number at fifteen thousand.

The most distinguished advantage of this island is
its magnificent harbour. Dr. M‘Pherson says of it,
“The bay of Hong-Kong cannot probably be surpassed
by any in the world, not only by reason of the infinite
nuimber of ships which it can accommodate, but also
of its safe anchorage from typhoons conipared with
any harbour in China, and the depth of water close to
the land, which along the greater part of the bay is suf-
ficient for a seventy-four to float at a distance of a
cable’s length from shore. From this circumstance
alone the island must prove a possession of enormous
value as a commercial acquisition. Magnificent gra-
nite-quarries are found all over the island, so that
warehouses on any ‘cale can be built close to the
water's edge, and wharfs with ease thrown out, which
will enable ships to approach for the purpose of load-
ing and unloading. ‘There is at all seasons an abun-
dant supply of fresh water procurable on the island.

“Tn other respects this new colony possesses but few
advantages. Its northern side is formed by a connected
ridge of mountains, the highest of which is about two
thousand fect above the level of the sea. Except ina
few spots, these mountains are barren and unculti-
vated, formed by black projecting inasses of granite,

1842. ] ,

the intervals giving shclter to herbage and brushwood.
There are no trees of any size, and, unlike the gene-
rality of mountainous districts, it possesses but a few
valleys, and these not of any extent. The mountains,
for the most part, fall perpendicularly into the sea,
thus leaving but little space for building at their base.
The interior and south side is chiefly formed by level
and undulating land, and appears to be far better
adapted for private residences than on the north side.
Here, too, there are some very fine bays, the chicf of
which are Ty-tan and Chuck-pie-wan. At the former
place a military post has been established. The latter
place, which is about five miles from Ty-tan, forms a
very convenient and well-sheltered site for building
dockyards, &c. Partridge, quail, and snipe have been
found on the island, and in the jungle plieasants and
deer have been seen...... A peninsula of considerable
size, With only a few Chinese hamlets upon it, extends
from the town of Cowloon in a south-easterly direc-
tion. This mostly consists of rich level ground......
The appearance of Hong-Kong is ye but pre-
possessing; and to those who have hitherto resided
upon it the climate has proved far from salubrious.
There is a good deal of rank vegetation on the face of
the hill, the ground on which, after a heavy rain, be-
tomes elastic and bogey. On the Cowloon side of the
bay the atmosphere is at all times more pure, and the
change of temperature less sudden ; indeed altogether
it appears a far more likely and preferable spot to form
a settlement than on the Hone Kone side.” *

The climate does not indeed appear to be the only
danger to be feared, though this, it is to be hoped, inay
be found to be ameliorated by local situation on a more
intimate knowledge of the island; while from the
typhoon, the other fearful and more terrific visitant,
increased security will probably be obtained by inn-

rovements in the harbour through the resources of

ritish engineering art, and on the land from erect-
ing buildings of greater strength and solidity. Dr.
M‘Pherson arrived at Hong-Kong in February, 1841,
and he thus writes of the two evils above mentioned :—

“The climate of Hong-Kong at this period was
most variable, the thermometer ranging frequently
10°, 15°, and at times 20°, in the twenty-four hours.
The troops were cantoned on the brow of a high hill,
from whence cold blasts of wind and heavy falls of
rain were in quick succession followed by a burning-
hot sun; and the barracks provided for them were
wretchedly ill adapted for so changeable a climate. Is
it a wonder, then, that disease increased? In the 17th
regiment, six hundred strong, barely one hundred men
were effective ; two of the officers had dicd, and of the
sixteen remaining, one only was fit for duty. In our
crowded hospitals, sores of a frightful character made
their appearance ; these terminated in hospital gan-
grene. The slightest abraded surface speedily dege-
nerated into a foul, malignant ulcer ; wounds received
in action at Cheumpee and elsewhere, but which had
been cicatrized for days and days, now again broke
out. Many poor fellows, proud of their wounds, and
rendered thereby disqualified for further effective ser-
vice, looked forward with pleasure and anxicty to the
period of their return to their native homes, where
they would be enabled to spend the rest oftheir days in
ease and comtort with their families, on the bountiful
provision of their honourable masters, were now cut off.

“The corps was exactly in this state, with an
hospital crowded to overflowing, when the typhoon of
the 2lst of July came on. It had commenced about
midmeht, and continued steadily increasing in violence,
and at 6 A.M. it blew a hurricane from the north-west.
The hospital of the 37th, which fronted in this direc-
tion, Was a continued line of building, constructed of

* «Two Years in China, &e., by D. M‘Pherson, M.D.

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

bamboo and palimyra leaf, 200 feet long, by 18 broad,
into which upwards of 300 men were stewed—an
additional hundred having a few days previously been
placed on board ship.

“Thad about half finished my visit (Dr. M‘Pher-
son was acting as surgeon to the 37th regiment in the
expedition), when { observed the side of the building
facing the gale evidently yield to the force of the
tempest. I immediately directed those of the sick
who could move to leave the building forthwith, and
was hastening to do so myself also, when suddenly
T heard a tremendous crash, and ere I was able to
reach the door, with many others, was thrown on my
face, and crushed under the wreck of the building.
The shrieks and groans of the miserable bed-ridden
patients, the howling of the wind, and the crackling of
the beans, sounded to ine, when I had recovered my
consciousness, something more than horrifying, niore
especially as I was myself deprived, by an intolerable
dead-weight wpon iny shoulders and back, which
pressed my chest to the ground, from taking part in it.
The ground on which I had fallen was fortunately
much softened with the rain, the building having been
thrown several fect beyond its original foundation. 1
was thus enabled, after extricating my arms, and
assisted by a sepoy, who was equally anxious with
myself to become free, to scrape, or rather burrow,
my way out, aud tottering to my brother officers’
quarters, apprized them of their danger, and announced
to them what had already happened.

“ By dint of very great exertions on the part of
the officers, and the few men who could be pro-
cured, the sick were extricated from the wreck of
the hospital, and placed in one of the ether barracks—
alas! merely to have the same scene acted over again.
Barrack after barrack was levelled to the ground.
The officers’ houses followed; their kit was flying
about in all directions. ‘The force of the wind tore
the very flooring from the sleepers. It was now sauve
qué peut, for there was danger in remaining in the
Vicinity of the lines.

“‘ The sea, at ajl other times in this harbour so still
and smooth, was now fiercely agitated, and had already ,
encroached upon the island far beyond its natural
bounds. Ships drifting from their anchorages were
seen rapidly nearing the shore, while their crews were
labouring hard to cut away the masts, their only
chance of preservation. Occasionally, as the atmo-
sphere cleared across the bay, several ships could be
seen clustered in one spot, giving one another a
friendly embrace. Ships of seven and eight hundred
tons were on shore, in water which on oidinary
occasions is barely knee-deep. Innumerable boats
were scattered in fragments on the beach, while under-
neath and around them were many mangled and
lacerated corpses of Chinese.

“ At 3 p.m. the typhoon was at its height; the wind
and drenching rain continued unabated, and torrents,
in form of cascades, poured down the hills, sweeping
everything before them. The houses had all been de-
stroyed, and no covering remained to protect from the
raging clements. The natives were running wildly
about, vainly beseeching succour from their gods. At
times masses of loose stone would become separated
from the mountains, and roll down the hill like a huge

avalanche, threatening destruction to all below. ‘Tlic
last days of Hong-Kong seemed approaching. Jt was

a grand but truly awful sight.

“It will be easier to conceive than to describe the
helpless and wretched condition in which the inhabit-
ants of this newly-cuolonized island spent this night.

“ On the evening of the 25th and the greater part of
the 26th of July, the island was again visited fy a ty-
phoon, which, thongh not so viulent as that now

502 THE PENNY
described, swept away all that escaped the gale of the
2ist. It destroyed the temporary buildings thrown up,
ald exposed the wretched inmates a second time to the
fury of a dreadful tempest of wind and rain. The
losses sustained, both in life and property, by these
typhoons, have been fearfully disastrous. Thecloseness
and oppressive nature of the atmosphere some hours
previous to their coming on, evidently indicated the
approach of a storm; and the native population, who
are generally pretty correct in their indications of the
weather, furetold, as did also the barometer, on both
occasions, that a typhoon might be expected.”

Our engraving represents a spot in the island of
Hong-Kong, a small valley looking across the bay and
upon the adjacent high land of Cow-Loon. The en-
trance to this part towards the sandy beach 1s extremely
narrow, abounding with rugged and pointed rocks.
The centre of the gorge is blocked up by a mass of
rocks, which have been cleverly brought into use by
the persevering industry of the inhabitants: they have
cut out a small canal on the summit, and placing at
each extremity a Jarge double bamboo, hollowed out
to about a foot and a half or two feet in circumference,
have thus established a rude aqueduct, by which the
water is conveyed from one place to another from
above the valley, and also possesses the advantage of
watering other parts, which without it would have
been sterile and barren. At first sight it appears Jike
a slight bridge thrown across the defile.

THE EFFECTS OF FOREST-CLEARING ON
| LAKES AND STREAMS.

M. BoussinGAULtT, an eminent French naturalist and
traveller, drew attention a few years ago to the re-
markable effect which the clearing of a forest exerts
on the lakes and running streams of a district. In the
most cultivated and civilized countries of Europe, the
clearing was effected so many ages back, that we have
no means of comparing aie with past appearances ;
but in America, where the march of man through the
trackless forest is so rapid and £0 irresistible, the facts
and appearances presented might be particularly valu-
able, if the ‘ go-a-head” progress allowed time for
their collection.

It is remarked by M. Boussingault, that an opinion
prevails that in those regions where the process of
clearing has been extensively carried on, less rain falls
than formerly. In some cases the streams which were
employed in propelling water-whccls have very sensi-
bly diminished ; in other places rivers sccm to have
become more shallow, apparently by the disappearance
of a portion of their waters, since the pebbly beds have
come more and more into sight. Such observations
have been principally made in valleys surrounded by
mountains; and it has appeared to many that these
changes have been coeval with the cutting down of
large masses of forest. In order to test this matter,
M. Boussingault collected much information while
residing and travelling in Ainecrica, and the sum of
his details seems to support the general opinion. He
selected lakes as the assemblages of water most suited
for his observations, since they may be considered as
natural gauges calculated to agsist in valuing the varia-
tions which may take place in the quantities of water
fertilizing a given extent of country. If the volume
of waters undergo any variation, this variation, whether
of excess or diminution, will be indicated by the mean
lavel of the lake: thus the mean level of a lake will
fall, if the annual quantity of running-water in the
streains of the district diminishes; while, on the con-
trary, it will rise if these streams become more copious ;
and will remain stationary if the volume of water
which runs into the lake expericnces no change,

MAGAZINE. [DeceMsLr 24,

In the district of Wenezucla, in South America,
there is a valley so completely surrounded by hills and
mountains, that none of the streains and rivers which
rise within it can find an outlet, and they therefore
form a beautiful lake at its lowest level. This lake,
called Tacarigua, was found by Ilumboldt to be about
thirty miles in length by seven or cight in breadth, and
elevated thirteen hundred feet above the level of the
sea. THe was told by the inhabitants of the valley that
they had observed the waters of the lake to be gradu-
ally diminishing for thirty years. This circumstance
induced M. Boussingault to make some investigations
into the subject when he was in America. He found
that Oviedo, a traveller who spent much time in Venc-
zucla in the last century, mentions the founding of the
town of New Valencia in 1555, at a distance of half a
mile from this lake; whereas ITumboldt found it in
1800 to be. more than three miles distant. That the
water of the lake had really receded many proofs
appeared on investigation. Certain rising grounds,
somewhat elevated above the general level of the
plains, were still called by the inhabitants ‘islands,’ as
if they had once been surrounded by the waters of the
lake. Buildings, which from their nature appear to
have been originally built on the margin of the lake,
are now far from it. New islands have been known
to gradually appear, as if by the recession of the water;
and an important military post, built in 1740 on the
island of Cabrera, is now on a peninsula. The inha-
bitants stated to Humboldt their conviction that a sub-
terranean conduit for the waters must exist some-
where; but after an attentive examination he came to
the conclusion that the cause of the diminution in the
waters of the lake was nothing more than the extensive
clearing away of the woods over the whole valley
during the latter half of the eighteenth century; and
he added—“ [n layimg low the trees which once
covered the tops and flanks of mountains, mankind
are in all climates entailing, at one and the same time,
two great calamities upon succeeding generations :
they are producing ascarcity both of wood and water.”

Twenty-two years afterwards, Boussingault found
this same Jake remarkably altered. The inhabitants
told him that the waters had not only ceased to sub-
side, but had actually begun to rise again. The Jands
which had been formerly occupied in the cultivation
of cotton were now submerged ; and several islands
which had been above the water when Humboldt was
in America had now become shallows dangerous to
navigation. The people, instead of watching with
anxiety the gradual disappearance of the lake, were
now pondering whether the rising waters were avout
to overwhelm their property.

Now for Boussingault’s explanation of this. During
the earlier years of the present century Venczuela
was the theatre of many of the bloody contests which
marked the struggle on the part of the South Ameri-
cans to throw off the yoke of Spain. The slaves for-
merly employed in agriculture had their liberty
awarded to them on condition of fighting in the ranks
of the Independent army; and hence: the wide-spread-
ing cultivation of the country became neglected; the
forest-trecs, so luxuriant within the tropics, had again
in great measure usurped dominion over the regions
which the inbabitants had reclaimed with the steady
labour of acentury. The waters, by being freely ex-
posed to evaporation, and also by being used in irriga-
tion, had sunk low during the period of agricultural
industry, but had risen again when forests had been
allowed to re-form themselves, and thus check the
freedom of evaporation.

Boussingault similarly quotes the instance of a spot
in New Granada, where the village of Ubata is situated
in the vicinity of two lakes. which formed but one

1812.]

lake sixty ov seventy years ago. The inhabitants have
year by vear observed the waters to diminish and the
shores to extend. “If we inquire in the neighbour-
hood of Ubata,” he remarks, ‘ of any of the old men
who in their younger days were devoted to the chase,
ov if we exainine the records of any of the different
parishes, no doubt will remain that numerous forests
have been there felled. The clearing still goes on;
and it is equally certain that the retreat of the water
has not ceased, though it does not proceed so rapidly
as it was wont to do.” The neighbouring village of
TFuguena was built quite close to the Jake of the same
name not far from Ubata: but Boussingzault found it
three miles distant from the lake; and he also re-
marked that the neighbouring mountains, which had
in former tines been clothed with forests, were now
almost stripped of trees: this he deemed evidence in
support of the asserted connection between these two
phenomena.

M. Desbassyns observed a singular circumstance in
the island of Ascension, bearing upon this subject. In
this island a beautiful spring 1s situated at the foot of
a mountain which was originally wooded. The forests
in the course of years were cut down, and the moun-
tain cleared; and it was observed that the spring at
the same time gradually diminished, and at length
failed. The mountain was at a subsequent period
again planted, and after a few years the spring re-
appeared, became gradually more and more produc-
tive, and finally was as copious as ever.

M. Boussingault states that he could not avoid asso-
ciating these effects in something like the relation of
cause and effect, when he visited two districts of South
America, about alike in average tempcrature and in
elevation, but very different as to vegetation. In
leaving Panama and travelling towards the south iuto
the provinces of San Buena Ventura, Choco, and
Esmeralda, he found the country covered with thick
forests, furrowed by a multitude of rivers, and sub-
jected to almost incessant rain. In another direction
he passed into a district where there were no forests
and hardly any vegetation, and here the whole district
was so sterile, that sometimes years have been known
to pass over without rain falling. It might indeed
appear that the circumstance of no rain falling in the
one case and abundant rain in the other, was the regu-
lating cause by which the amount of vegetation is de-
termined ; but the other instances adduced, in whicha
change in the vegetation has been followed by, instead
of having followed, a change in the supply of rain
and springs, show that there is something more in-
volved in the matter.

Saussure’s remarks on the Lake of Geneva and the
surrounding mountains lead to the conclusion that the
waters of that lake were several centuries ago higher
than they are now; and this has in lke manner been
attributed to the gradual clearing of many of the
neighbouring forests. On the other hand, many moun-
tains, lakes, and streams, situated in districts not ex-
posed to the woodman’s axe, are known to have main-
tained their wonted character for ages.

M. Boussingault accounts for these changes in three
ways. In the first place he expresses his opinion,
founded on a wide range of observation. that extensive
clearings lessen the amount of rain which falls in a
given distriet; and he expresses a hope that the vast
changes now going on in America will not be allowed
to pass away without affording materials for placing
this matter on a sure basis. In the second’ place, where
the soil is laid more open to the atmosphere by the
absence of tall trees, cvaporation may go on more un-
interruptedly than in the contrary case. And, lastly,
where a great extent of land is brought into cultivation
fer corn and other produce, the regular irrigation of

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

503

the soil will make a large diminution. in the amount
of water left unemployed in the streams and lakes. He
adds, that the quantity of running-water docs not
appear to have varied in countries which have not
been subjected to any changes arising from the pro-
gress of cultivation; and that, independent of their
preservation of surface-watcr, forests husband and
regulate their flow.

ON MERCHANTS’ MARKS OR SYMBOLS.

Tuose who have attended to the subject of printing
are aware that the early printers were in the habit of
appropriating to themselves certain marks or symbols,
as a ineans of determining the identity of their several
productions. A similar custom formerly prevailed to
a certain extent among other classes of manufacturers
and merchants; but the particulars have until lately
attracted only a small degrec of attention. Mr. Charles
Frost, in a paper read before the Hull Literary and Phi-
losophical Society about three years ago, considered the
subject in reference to these three questions :—Were
merchants’ marks used exclusively for commercial

urposes? Or did they, under certain circumstances,

ecome indicative of rank in the bearer? If the latter,
were they used as substitutes for armorial bearings, or
might they consistently be placed upon the same me-
morial with heraldic shields? The following is an
abstract of Mr. Frost's details, with illustrations from
other quarters.

In modern times the terin ‘merchants’ marks’ is
familiar only to mercantile men, who have long been
in the habit of adopting certain arbitrary characters or
devices to designate the ownership of particular goods,
their peculiar manufacture, or the various qualities of
their workmanship. Some of these vocabularies and
characters are so peculiar as to be utterly unintel-
ligible beyond the sphere of their immediate applica-
tion, and often appear very ludicrous to the uninitiated.
Iu all cases the reliance placed upon them is most im-
plicit, and from the foreign and wholesale commerce
of the greatest mercantile houses, down to the more
humble retail-dealer, any violation of good faith in the
employment of them cannot but be attended with pre-
judicial consequences. Whenever such a violation
occurs, it is regarded both as an invasion of a private
right and a fraud upon the public.

The law of England has thrown its protection over
these symbols for commercial purposes, by extending
its aid to prevent their piracy. An instance of judicial
recognition of the right of individuals to assume ex-
clusively peculiar marks occurred so early as the
twenty-second year of Elizabeth’s reign,.in a case
which was explained by Mr. Justice Doddridge thus :
— An action was brought upon the case in Com-
mon Pleas, by a clothier, that whereas he had gained
reputation by the making of his cloth, by reason
whereof he had great utterance, to his great benefit
and profit; and that he used to set his mark to his
cloth, whereby it should be known to be his cloth , and
another clothier, perceiving it, used the same mark to
his ill-made cloth, on purpose to deceive him; and it
was resolved that an action did well he.” Jn more
recent instances courts of eau: as well as of law,
have supported the principle of this decision. One or
two instances of this may be interesting. In an article
in a recent volume of the ‘ Law Magazine,’ an account
is given of a case in which it was proposed to inquire
whether a particular mark belonged to the manutac-
turer or to the manufactory wherein his goods were
produced. The mark * MC’ had long been used to
distinguish tin manufactured at particular works in
Carmarthen. After atime the lessee of these works
removed to other tin-works about forty miles distant,
and continued to use the mark ‘M C° at the latter

04 THE PENNY
works during several years, while the Carmarthen
works were unoccupied. Afterwards another person
took the Carmarthen works, and commenced using
the same mark on tin manufactured there; a course
which the former lessee resisted, on the plea that the
mark belonged to him. The ultimate decision of the
Lord Chancellor, when this matter was submitted to
him, was, that although the manufactory had been
some time unoccupied, the mark belonged to it rather
than the former lessee, and therefore the second lessee
had aright to use it.

In another case, the proprictors of the London Con-
veyance Company applied for an injunction against an
omnibus proprietor, who began to run an omnibus
on the same line of road, inscribed with similar words,
such as ‘Conveyance Company,’ &c., and having cer-
tain other symbols which were imitations of those on
the Company's omnibus. The decision of the equity
judge supported the principle that this imitation of
mercantile symbols could not be permitted.

There are many circumstances which indicate that
in the fourteenth, fifteenth, and sixteenth centuries a
large measure of respect was paid to ‘merchants’
Inarks,’ insomuch that they were considered of suf-
ficient importance to be worthy of a place not only on
the frgnts of houses, but in painted glass, upon tomb-
stones, and on ornamental brasses. In an article in
No. 61 of the ‘Edinburgh Review,’ it is stated that
“In their inscriptions, and in the rubrics of their
books, the Spanish Goths, like the Romans of the
lower empire, were fond of using combined capitals
—ol monogrammatising. This mode of writing is now
common in Spain on the sign-boards and on the shop
fronts, where it has retained its place in defiance of
the canons of the council (of Leon). The Goths, however.
retained a truly Gothic custom in their writings. The
Spanish Goth sometimes subscribed his name; or he
drew a monogram, like the Roman emperors; or the
sign of the cross, like the Saxon; but not unfrequently
he affixed strange and fanciful marks to the deed or
charter, bearing a close resemblance to the Runic or
magical knots, of which so many have been engraved
by Peringskiold and other northern antiquaries.”” Ina
passage in Jackson's * History of Wood Engraving,’ it
Is remarked, in connection with this subject, that many
of the merchants’ marks of our own country, which so
frequently appear on stained glass-windows, munu-
mental brasses, and tombstones in the fourteenth and
two following centuries, bear a considerable likeness
to the ancient Runic monograms, from which it is not
unlikely that they were originally derived. “ The
Ienelish trader was accustomed to place his mark as
his ‘sign’ in his shop-front, in the same manner as the
Spaniard did his nonogram: if he was a wool-stapler,
he stamped it on his packs; or if a fish-curer, it was
branded on the end of his casks. If he built himself a
new house, his mark was frequently placed between
his initials over the principal doorway, or over the
fire-place of the hall. Ifhe made a gift to a church
or a chapel, his mark was einblazoned on the windows
beside the knight’s or the nobleman’s shicld of arms;
and when he died his mark was cut upon his tomb.”
Mr. Jackson gives cuts of the ‘marks’ of three indi-
Viduals: the one being that of Adam de Walsokne,
who died in 1349; the second that of Edimund Pepyr,
who died in 1483; and the third unknown: the first
and second were copied fram tombs in St. Margaret's
Church, Lynn; and the third from a window in the
same church. ‘These marks (which are vertainly most
unimeaniny®, or at least unintelligible devices) were
copied from Mackarel’s * History of King’s Lynu;’ a
book which contains upwards of thirty more of a
similar kind,.from the middle of the fourteenth century
to the latter end of the seventeenth.

MAGAZINE. [DecremMper 24

In ‘ Pierce Plowman’s Creed,’ written towards the
end of the fourteenth century, there occurs a verse in
which merchants’ marks are mentioned in connection
with the window of a Dominican convent :—

Wide windows, y-wrought, y-written full thick,
Shining with shapen shields, to sheweu about,
With marks of merchants, y-meddled between,
Mo than twenty and two, twice y-numbered.”

It has been stated that no other two counties in the
kingdom contain so many existing specimens of mer-
chants’ marks, in connection with monumental brasses,
as Norfolk and Suffolk. The late Mr. Samuel Wood-
ward of Norwich collected fifty-three of these, which
he offered to the Antiquarian Society for publication,
but which we believe are now in the hands of Mr.
Dawson Turner, In these and most similar cases the
marks engraved on monumental brasses seem to have
been those of persons ranking more or less as “ mer-
chants ;” and it has been asked, “ supposing that under
any circumstances the mark of the merchant could be
used in such a manner as to indicate his rank in
society or his importance in the commercial world,
why should not the printer's marks, which were equally
exclusive, and which have given rise to much inge-
nious learning and speculation, as well as the marks
adopted by various other traders, have ‘also been
recorded in testification of the celebrity of those who
had acquired good report in their immediate calling,
in the exercise of which the use of peculiar symbols
had become necessary?” In reference to this point a
remark has been made in the introductory essay pre-
fixed to Cotinan’s ‘ Engravings of Sepulchral Brasses
in Norfolk and Suftolk,’ to the effect that merchants
or burgesses were probably the only class of Jayimen,.
except the military, represented on monuments, and
that such monuments are chiefly to be found in
borough-towns or the parochial churches where the
woollen manutacture flourished.

Mr. Frost, after examining the monumental brasses
exhibited im many of our churches, gives numerous
exainples to show that merchants’ inarks were not
merely employed for the convenience of trade, but
that they acquired character, and became entitled to
attention and respect, in proportion as those by whom
tney were adopted accumulated wealth and obtained
rank in socicty. And it is perhaps no matter for sur-
prise to find the prosperous merchant desirous of
transmitting to future ages, along with his name, the
device he had chosen to be associated with it in his
Various commercial transactions.

There are other buildings more appropriate than
churches in which merchants’ marks have been found
as expressive of hovour and respect to the individnal
to whom they belonged. Thus, in St. Mary's Hall at
Coventry, which was erected in the carly part of the
reign of Henry VI. for the accommodation of the mer-
chante’ guild and other fraternities of the city, there is
a large room in which an angel is represented holding
a shield, on which is depicted a mark or monogram,
supposed to be a merchant's mark ; and in the great
hall of the same building is a painted window, on
which is represented a man with a forked beard and a
red cap and gown, and below him a shicld bearing a
merchants mark and a scroll, designating him to be
Wilhiain Whychirch, who was mayor of Coventry in
the year 1400. Other windows of the same hall contain
similar indications of this practice.

The evidence collected on this point seems to lead
to the conclusion that merchants marks were in tor-
mer times regarded as something more than mere
commercial symbols, that they were regarded by the
possessors as an honorary distinction analogous to
the heraldic bearings of the noble.

1842 |

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‘Wesleyan Theological Institution, Richmond.)

PUBLIC IMPROVEMENTS, 1842.

In the metropolis the two great national edifices, the
Houses of Parliament and the Royal Exchange, are
making satisfactory progress. The immediate neigh-
bourhood of the Royal Exchange has already assumed
an improved architectural character. The Sun Assur-
ance Office, on the site of St. Bartholomew’s Church,
Bartholomew-lane, is completed externally, and has
attracted much notice from the uncommonness of its
design, which is in the Italian style, but neither
Palladian nor Roman, and is besides modified by
many of the architect's own conceptions. Moxhay’s
building, in Threadneedle-street, also completed ex-
ternally, is remarkable on account of the very exten-
sive and classical piece of sculpture which adorns
it. The statue of William IV. is nearly finished, and
preparations will shortly be made for the site which it
1s intended to occupy, and which, as stated last year,
will be the space opposite the Mansion House, where
several streets meet. The progress of the Nelson
column in Trafalgar-square has been slow. The new
street along the line of Cateaton-street and Lad-lane
is a decided improvement as regards public con-
venience, and would be still more so if it could be
carried westward, so as to communicate immediately
with St. Martin’s-le-Grand; or if the south-end of
Wood-street were made of the same width. The new
street in continuation of Farringdon-street has been
opened for foot-passengers, but no houses have yet
been begun, and, as a thoroughfare, it will scarcely
become of importance until it is carried farther into
some principal street. At the London Bridge station
of the Greenwich, Croydon, Brighton, and South
Fastern Railways a building is in progress for the joint
use of these companies, which, when completed, will
be two hundred and fifty feet in length, facing the
east end of St. Saviour’s Church. It will be in the
Italian Palazzo style; the centre comprising two
stories, while a lofty gateway will occupy the centre
of each wing. On one side of the station will be an
observation-tower, rising to the height of about sixty-
five feet, and commanding a view of the railway for
several miles, In the course of a year or two we may
expect the British Museum to show itself as one of the

No. 689.

public buildings of the metropolis. The present old
structure (the original Montague House) is to be
taken down, and the fonic portico and colonnades
which are to form the fagade of the new buildings
towards Great Russel-street will be commenced, and
when completed, the screen-wall between the front
court and the above street will be removed. The
restoration of Crosby Hall is now completed in the
style of the latter end of the fifteenth century, the
period when the ‘Hall’ itself was erected; but the
og restored are of a character more strictly domestic.

he building is now occupied by the ‘ Crosby Literary
and Scientific Institution.

The alterations in the Temple Church have been
completed. The interior has been not only restored,
but completely renovated and decorated throughout,
upon the most liberal scale, so as to form a very
striking contrast to what it before was, and to be
almost totally different from any other example of
ecclesiastical architecture in this country, either
ancient or modern. One interesting peculiarity in the
plan of this church is the circular portion at the west
end; and here not only the walls, mouldings, &c.
have been thoroughly repaired, but the six clustered
pillars supporting the arches have been taken down
and replaced by new ones of the same material, viz.
Purbeck marble. The ceiling of the centre part, or
circular tambour above those arches, and which was
before comparatively modern and of inferior character
to the rest, has also been replaced by a handsome
vaulted and groined one; and in the triforium are
placed the mural monuments which used to encumber
and disfigure the walls of the edifice. One of the
clerestory windows in this part of the edifice has
been filled with stained glass, therefore it is no doubt
intended to glaze the others similarly, and when
that shall have been done the general effect will be
considerably heightened. The organ is now placed
in a recess on the north side. Instead of pews, benches
have been substituted in the side aisles, divided into
separate seats, with carved elbows, and other orna-
mental work; and the floor has been laid with en-
caustic tiles, copied from antient patterns. One of
the most striking objects, on immediately entering,
is the Jarge triple window at the east end, which has

Vou. XI.—3 T

3Of

been entirely filled with staincd glass, divided into
compartments, representing as many subjects from
the life of our Saviour, the spaces between which form
a bordering or ground of mosaic pattern and brilliant
colours. On either side of this window are three
other openings with stained glass, with subjects allu-
sive to the history of the Knights Templars; and on
the south side, facing the organ recess, is another
painted window, with figures of angels playing on
musical instruments. Splendid, however, as these
decorations are, they are not so striking in regard to
novelty of character as the ornamental painting on the
walls and roof—an application of polychromy, or
rather a revival of such embellishment, which, owing
jo the long disuse of ft, is now somewhat at variance
with established notions of Gothic architecture.

In Wilton Church, near Salisbury, the style adopted
(at the suggestion of the founder himself, the Hon.
Sidney Herbert, M.P.) is as yet scarcely known at all
in this country; yet, if so far exotic, it strongly recom-
mends itself, as combining economy and simplicity with

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

[DxcemMBeER 3],

open arches and columns produce great richness of
effect, and a pleasing contrast to the breadth and soli-
dity of other parts. In consequence, too, of the tower
being thus detached and brought forward, far greater
play and variety than would else be the case are given
to the whole composition, a different combination being

resented from every point of view. As here shown,
It is certainly very etfective. The campanile, cloister,
and body of the church produce a most picturesque
architectural group, whose several parts admirably
relieve each other. Independently of its design, the
cloister is of great value in the composition, both on
account of its producing greater variety in the general
outline, and by giving greater comparative height to
the body of the church than this last would have
without that lower intermediate part between it and
the campanile. On the same side of the church, at
the east end, is a projecting porch, which materially
increases the picturesqueness of the composition. A
rather striking degree of character of unusual kind is
also produced by the west front being clevated upon

a more than ordinary degree of picturesque effect.|a platform or terrace, surrounded by a flight of steps.

The only other instance, as far as we are aware, of this; The centre entrance forms an open-recessed

style being adopted among us is Streatham Church,
of which a description was given in our last volume
Cp. 499); yet, while the style is the sane in each, the
designs themselves are very dissimilar. At Wilton the
campanile is placed almost at the west end, and is con-
nected with the church by a vestibule or cloister, whose

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orch,
Within a rich archway, which contains four columns
on each side. The ctfect of this porch is nota little
increased by there being a view, through open arches,

; into the staircases leading to the children’s gallery at

the west end of the church. Over this centre entrance
is aserics of small circular-headed arches, forming a

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“Wilton Church.'

1812. ]

THE PENNY MAGAZINE. OF

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(Christ Church, Broadway, Westminster.)

sort of exterior gallery at the back of the one within,
and producing a good deal of relief and richness. _Im-
mediately above it is a very large rose-window of ela-
borate design, set within a square, whose spandrils are
sculptured with the emblems of the four Evangelists.
The arrangement of the interior is tasteful, and, simple
as it is, provides for a good deal of effect, owing to
the floor of the chancel end being on a rather
higher level than that of the nave and aisles; to the
columns within the chancel being different, aud differ-
ently arranged from the others; and to there being
apses, which recessed parts contribute also to variety
externally, causing the east elevation to be of a different
character from the others. There are neither pews
nor galleries, except the small one at the west end,
forming an upper recess within, over the porch: the
interior is not built and blocked up, nor are the co-
lumns cut midway by the fronts of side galleries. The
pillars of the nave are single shafts, partaking, both in
their proportions and form of the capitals of the Co-
rinthian character, as is common in Italian examples
of this style; but, although in their shape and mass
the capitals bear a resemblance to Corinthian ones,
they are very differently composed, not only in respect
to their foliage, but by having scriptural emblems
combined with it. From these pillars spring semicir-
cular arches (five on each side of the nave), and be-
tween them and the clerestory windows isa triforium,
a feature that gives a vely unusual degree of richness

and variety to this part of the interior. Besides being
distinguished from the nave by being on a different
level, the chancel will be more elaborately decorated :
here there will be a good deal of foreign marble and
old glass ; the floor will be paved in imitation of mosaic,
and the groining of the roof and the semi-domes of the
three apses will be painted in fresco. The pulpit and
font will both be of marble.

The most remarkable feature in Christ Church,
Westminster, now in progress, will be the tower and
spire. Their united height will be two hundred feet,
—only twenty-five less than the towers of Westminster
Abbey. Neither is it height alonc that gives effect to
this part of the design, for it is otherwise of superior
character, ably composed and boldly marked in out-
line, as may be judged from the annexed view. It
will form a fine architectural object from St. James's
Park, and for a considerable distance on each side in
other directions. The style chasen by the architect is
Gothic, of the later period of Early English. The
exterior will be waalts of stone, and the arches, pil-
lars, mouldings, &c. of the interior will be of the same
material. The internal dimensions of the body of the
church, or nave and aisles, are ninety-four feet by fifty
feet six inches in width, exclusive of the apsis or
chancel at the east end, which is separated from the
rest by a richly moulded arch and clustered columns,
and also distinguished by having an ascent of six ste
up to it. Though there will be no pers ar will be

508 THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

gallerics, these being intended exclusively for the
children of the National and Parochial Schools.

The French Protestant Church, St. Martin’s-le-Grand,
is a very tasteful specimen of Gothic. No more has
been aimed at than has been satisfactorily accomplished,
and without stint. At the same time it could be wished
that this French church had been made in some degree
a specimen of French Gothic, had it been little more
than to the extent of introducing into the window at
the east end or front towards the street tracery of flam-

ant character. The minister’s residence, which is
attached to the south side, contributes not a little to
the picturesqueness of the whole composition. The
cost of the building is about 5000/.

Important for its size, and not for its size alone, the
Wesleyan Theological Institution at Richmond is one
that would not discredit either of our universities. The
entire plan is two hundred and forty-eight feet by
sixty-five, in its greatest depth, and that portion of the
front which is between the wings is one hundred and
sixty-five feet., As what may be called the chief or
public rooms are on the ground-floor, that is treated as
the principal one in the design: thus a different cha-
racter (one by no means of an unpleasing kind) is pro-
duced from what is observable in collegiate structures
generally, where the rooms so situated are low, and
with smaller windows than those above them. Be-
sides class-rooms, and some others, on this floor are
the ipa and lecture-room, each fifty-seven b
twenty-one feet, and the governor's apartments, all
which are seventeen feet in height. Beyond the en-
trance-hall (forty-seven feet by twenty), which has a
groined ceiling, 1s seen the principal staircase, branch-
ing off right and left. This leads to the library (thirty-
five feet by twenty, and twenty high), which is the
only public room on that floor, all the rest of it being
divided into studies or separate sitting-rooms for the
pupils. The library is lighted by a single window at
one end, namely, the lofty oriel over the entrance,
which, contrasting with the other windows of the upper
floors, gives a marked importance to that portion of
the front; and it also plainly indicates that this apart-
ment is carried up the height of two stories. The

1!)

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(County Courts, Cambride.}

(DeceMBER 3], 1842.

next floor consists entirely of slecping-rooms for die
students, corresponding with their sitting-rooms on
that beneath it; and of each sort of rooms there are
from sixty to seventy in number. Still higher up,
however, there is another room quite at the top of the
building, intended to be used as an observatory, and
commanding a singularly fine prospect, including
Windsor Castle in one direction, and Greenwich ana
Shooter’s Hill in another. Upon the ground-floor
there yet remains to be noticed the corridor, or ambu-
latory, extending nearly the entire length of the build-
ing, forming a walk two hundred and thirty feet in
extent. The wings contain several additional rooms,
on a mezzanine floor over the ground one. The exte-
rior is of Bath stone, of superior quality ; and the whole
will be executed for a sum not exceeding 11,0002.

The Independent College, Manchester, has, like the
preceding building, projecting wings, but of greater
depth, so as to form the front into three sides of a
quadrangle. ‘The style belongs to the latest Gothic,
and the front consists of two stories over an arcade or
cloister, with an oriel over the entrance in the centre,
above which rises a tower, surmounted by an octan-
gular lantern. The building is said to have cost
14,0002.

After the Fitzwilliam Museum, the Cambridge
County Courts is one of the best pieces of modern
architecture in Cambridge. The style is not only
Italian, but Palladian, the composition being evidently
a reminiscence of Palladio’s loggie at the Basilica of
Vicenza; but the differences are all in favour of the

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SuPPLEMENT. } THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 509

A DAY AY “DAT ABD MARTINS.”

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(Vacsiug-Warechouse.- Day and Martin's Dlacking Pactury.j

Gay, the author of the well-known ‘ Fables,’ published, | The Goddess* plunges swift beneath the flood,
somewhat above a century ago, a lively work under | And dashes all around her showers of mud :
the title of ‘ Trivia, or the Art of Walking the Streets | The youth straight chose his post ; the labour ply‘d
of London;’ in which he thus addresses the “ shoe- Where branching streets from Charing Cross divide ;

” : : aa His treble voice resounds along the Mews
blacks,” an important fraternity at that time: And. Whilsbell seboss— Clean sour toaouis Showa.”
“ Go, thrive: at some frequented corner stand ;

: aie : One of the early numbers of Mr. Knight's ‘ London,’
This brush I give thee, grasp it in thy hand ; wherein the above lines are cited, thus records a mo-

rare a ole ria att reche pa dern revolution in the black-ball world :—* In one of
On this methinks I see the walking crew, the many courts on the north side of Fleet Street,
At thy request, support the miry shoe ; might be seen, somewhere about the year 1820, the /ast
The foot grows black that was with dirt embrown’'d, * Gay gives to the shoe-black a mythological descent from
And in thy pocket jingling halfpence sound. the Goddess of Mud,

510

of the shoe-blacks. One would think that he deemed
himself dedicated to his profession by Nature, for he
was anegro. At the carliest dawn he crept forth from
his neighbouring lodging, and planted his tripod on
the quiet pavement, where he patiently stood till noon
was past. He was a short, large-headed son of Africa,
subject, as it would appear, to considerable variations
of spirits, alternating between depression and excile-
ment, as the gains of the day presented to him the
chance of having a few pence to recreate himself, be-
yond what he should carry home to his wife and chil-
dren. For he had‘a wife and children, this last repre-
sentative of a falling trade; and two or three Jittle
woolly-headed décrotteurs nestled around him when he
was idle, or assisted in taking off the roughest of the
dirt when he had more than one client. He watched,
with a melancholy eye, the gradual improvement of
the streets; for during some twenty or thirty years he
had beheld all the world combining to ruin him. He
saw the foot-pavements widening ; the large flag-stones
carefully laid down; the Jouse and broken piece, which
discharged a slushy shower on the unwary foot, in-
stantly removed: he saw the kennels diligently cleansed,
and the drains widened: he saw experiment upon
experiment made in the repair of the carriage-way,
and the holes, which were to him as the ‘ old tamiliar
faces’ which he loved, filled up with a haste that ap-
peared quite unnecessary, if not insulting.”

We may picture to ourselves an old gentleman of
the-dast century, with his foot upon a stool, reaping the
lustrous fruits of the shoe-black’s labours; and we
may fancy we hear him cry—‘ Clean your Honour’s
Shoes!” But (to quote from the same work. ‘ The

(Shoe-black.]

ery is no more heard. The pavements of White-
hall are more evenly laid than the ancient marble
courts of York Place, where Wolsey held his state, and
Henry revelled; and they are far cleaner, even in the
most inauspicious weather, than the old floor beneath
the rushes. Broad as the footways are, as the broadest
of the entire original streets, the mightiest of paving-
stones is not large enough for the comforts of the
walker; and a pavement without a joint is sought for
in the new concrete of asphaltum. Where the streets
which run off from the great thoroughfares are narrow,
the trottoir is widened at the expense of the carriage-
road; and one cart only can pass at a time, so that we
walk fearless of wheels. If we would cross a road,
there is a public servant, ever assiduous, because the
measure of his usefulness is that of his reward, who
removes every particle of dirt from before our steps.
No filth encumbers the kennels; no spout discharges
the shower in a torrent from the houee-top. We pass

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

(DecemBeER, 1812.

ney onwards from the Horse Guards to the India
ouse without being jostled off the curb-stone, though
we have no protecting posts to sustain us; and we
perceive why the last of the shoe-blacks vanished from
our view about the time when we first noticed his
active brothers at every corner of Paris—a city then
somewhat more filthy than the London of the days of
Anne.”*

But if this be so—if the streets be so incomparably
cleaner now than they were a century ago (and no one
can doubt it), what must become of the blacking-
makers? The shoc-blacks of old became strect-
sweepers by degrees, from utter want of custom; aid
it might be feared that the vendors of the “ incom para-
ble jet”—the * easy-shining” composition which
produces “ the most brilliant lustre ever beheld,” and
will “ keep good in any climate ””—weuld lkewise be
driven to seek another source of employment. By no
means. The blacking-makers are inore important
personages now than ever they were; they surprise us
with magnificent buildings—more like mansions than
factories—and with horses and waggons, travellers and
agents, and all the commerical machinery incident to
a large branch of manufacture. What sort of blacking
the Londoners used a century ago, or who were thie
persons by whom it was made, we do not know; but
if the streets are less miry now than they were then, and
yet blacking be more generally used by al] classes, we
arrive ata sort of logical deduction, that we are a more
cleanly people than our ancestors—that the boots and
shoes of 1842 are more resplendent than those of 1742.
A city clerk or a London tradesman, instead of apply-
ing to the shoe-black at the corner of a court, and stay-
ing there until “ the foot grows black that was with
dirt embrown'd,” now has the mirror-like polish im-
parted to his boots before he leaves his home: he docs
not leave his door in search of an agent of cleanliness,
for every house has now such an agent within.

We arc not about to instruct the reader how to make
a bottle of blacking; but we hope to convey a slight idea
of the large and remarkable extent of the arrangements
involved in the manufacture, as carried on by a ccle-
brated London firm. If any one were to picture to
himself a dark and dirty room, containing a few tubs
and coppers, and half a dozen men mixing up and
bottling a black liquid—their faces and garinents vying
With the tubs and flour in blackness (and such a pic-
ture is not unlikely to be formed), he would be some-
what surprised at witnessing, as we have recently donc,
the scene presented at “ Day and Martin’s” factory in
Holborn. Whether we regard this establishment in
respect to its elegant exterior, the large and lofty
packing-warehouse which forms its main apartment,
the ranks and files and tiers of bottles in the ‘ filling-
rooms,’ or the general economy which pervades the
manufacture of a commodity apparently so humble as
blacking, there is much to admire, and, perhaps we
might say, much more from which instruction might
be a aanedl ; for the division of labour, and the appor-
tionment of duty, so that every man may be ready to
do the work at the moment when the work is ready
for him, and have just as much to do as will occupy his
whole working-day, are features of factory-economy in
which much ingenuity and calculation are called for.

All the world has heard of “ Day and Martin.” The
two names are so associated that we can hardly con-
ceive a Day without a Martin, or a Martin without a
Day; and that cither Day,or Martin should ever die,
or be succeeded by others, seems a kind of commercial
impossibility—a thing not to be thought of. ‘* Day and
Martin” it has been fur forty years, and. ‘‘ Day and
Martin” it will probably be for forty yeais to come, or
perhaps till blacking iteelf shall be no more. To

* London, chap. ii., * Clean your Hotout’s Shacs,’ p. 18,

SuprLEMENT. ] THE PENNY
“ Day and Martin’s,” then, the reader’s attention 4s
directed.

Those who knew High Holborn a dozen years ago
may perhaps remember the former premises occupicd
by this firm: unimportant and inclegant, they called
for no admiration without, and probably possessed
little symmetry of arrangement within. Since then,
however, the whole of the premises have been built on
ascale of great magnificence. On the north side of
Holborn, between Red Lion Street and Kingsgate
Street, a frontage of about ninety fect shows the iacade
of the new building. Asallthe manutacture is carried
on in the rear of the premises, the front buildings are
leased off to other parties, with the exception of the
central portion, which pertains to the factory. From
the arched entrance, the premises extend to a distance
of upwards of two hundred feet northward, to a street
running parallel with Holborn ; and the working parts
of the factory are nearly a hundred feet in width.
The site on which the factory stands affords an instruc-
tive example of the value imparted by manufacturing
premises to the land on which they are situated. This
site, and a considerable portion of ground near it, was
purchased many years ago, by the parish authoritics of
St. Clement Danes, for a sum of one hundred pounds,
which was put into the poor-box by some benevolent
person. The rack-rent of this same portion of ground
now amounts to four thousand pounds per annum, and
will probably go on increasing in value!

On entering from Holborn, we come first to a range
of offices and counting-houses, lying on the right hand
side of the main archway or entrance. The polished
mahogany desks and cases of these offices are the scene
of book-keeping operations of the customary kind,
and do not call for notice here. At the north end,
the wide entrance passage terminates ina large arched
window, between twenty and thirty feet in height, a
door in the lower part of which leads to the ‘ ware-
house,’ the central portion of the whole establishment.
This warehouse has a striking effect, both froin its
wide and lofty dimensions, and from the busy opera-
tions of which it is the theatre. Its area is perhaps not
much less than a hundred feet square ; oe its genera]
arrangement will be better understood if we divide it
into three portions, a centre and two sides, running
parallel from north to south. The central portion is
open from the ground to the iron roof, a height of
bese fifty feet. It is lighted by about a dozen sky-
ights in the roof, and by an ornamental kind of win-
dow, or glazed scroll-work, extending along both sides
between the walls and the roof. This central area is
separated from the side aisles (if we may so term them)
by arches and piers of brickwork, beyond which are
these side warehouses, lighted only from the central
skylights and windows. \

The northern end of the warehouse presents, in the
lower part, an arched entrance to another warehouse
or store-room beyond, and at the upper part, doors and
windows belonging to the ‘tun-room,’ or manufactory
in which the blacking is made. Two light and
clegant iron staircases lead from the floor of the ware-
house to the level of this upper rooin, one on each side.
The side warehouses or aisles are not above half the
height of the central portion; for they have over them
two very long rooms er galleries called ‘ filling-
rooms.’ Four openings furnish communication be-
tween these filling-rooms and the warehouse, two on
cach side; that is, one opening to each, in communica-
tion with the iron staircase, and one by which crates
are hauled up to, or lowered from, the filling-room.
If the side of each filling-room were thrown open, the
whole would bear some resemblance to the form of
a church: there would be a nave, or middle aisle, two
side aisles, and two galleries over the latter.

MAGAZINE. 511

This warehouse, from morning till night, is a con-
tinued scene of bustle and activity. It is the part of
the premises in which the finished comimodity is

acked for London shopkeepers, ‘for country trade, or
tor foreign shipment. Packers and porters and
coopers occupy the greater part of the central area.
The coopers are making or altering and adjusting the
casks in which the bottles are generally packed; for
many of the casks are made here from the rough
staves, and all are fitted to the wants of the packers.
The packers are in al] sorts of attitudes, according tuo
the state of the cask which is being filled: some are
bending over the cask, to put in the lower Jayer of
bottles; some, by having nearly filled a cask, are
enabled to stand either more erect at their work; o1e
man has got his foot in a cask, pressing down the
straw ; another, with a stick in his hand, is thrusting
straw between the bottles; some are closing in the
casks; and the porters are arranging the filled casks
ready for removal from the factory. At night, both the
filling-rooms and the warehouse are lighted with gas,
by branches ranged along the centre.

The side warehouses, or those portions which are
separated from the centre by the arches and piers,
are crammed with enormous piles of stores, per-
taining to some branch or other of the manufacture.
Casks ranged by scores and by hundreds; staves and
hoops for the use of the coopers; crates of empty stone
bottles; huge bags of corks or bungs, containing a
hundred gross or more in each bag; boxes for pack-
ing ‘ paste-blacking,—these are some of the multitudi-
nous stores here deposited. An underground furnace
and boiler, under each of the galleries, furnish hot
water for heating the whole premises; and subter-
raneous communication is kept open from one side of
the building to the other. Under the right hand
galery is deposited a kind ol fire-escape, consisting of
a series of ladders capable of sliding, telescope-like, to
a height of a hundred feet; by which any part of the
walls or roof may be reached from below, either for
cleaning or repairing, or any more urgent purpose.
Near the south-eastern corner of the warehouse are
several rooms devoted to the labels, papers, and
Wrappers, to which we shall allude further by and by ;
and over some of these rooms is a very large reservoir,
from which an abundant supply of water can be ob-
tained in case of emergency.

Before ascending the two dozen steps which lead
up to the galleries, we will follow out the lower rancc
to ils northern termination. An archway leads from
the large warehouse to a smaller store-room filled
with stores like the other. The western exhibits rows
and piles of casks heaped up tothe ceiling; while
crates are here and there deposited, containing bottles
afterwards to be filled, each crate holding about a
hundred dozens. At the eastern side of this store-
room is a kind of washing-house, where old and used
bottles are cleansed before being employed again.
Every one who is learned in the matter of domestic
perquisites knows that old blacking-bottles, like old
things of many other kinds, can find a market: the
manufacturer would probably be quite as well pleased
to use new bottles altogether, and save himself the
trouble of washing old oucs; but whenever this wash-
ing is necessary, it is effected in the washing-house.
Coppers, and tubs, and brushes, sloppiness below, and
steam above, all indicate the somewhat dirty occupa-
tion of bottle-washing; while near at hand are the
crates into which the cleansed bottles are put.

In this part of the factory is also a furnace and the
necessary apparatus for preparing the red-wax with
which the corks of blacking-bottles are sealed. Those
who know anything of the nature of sealing-wax,
whether the finer kinds for sealing a or the

3 U 2

912 THE PENNY
coarser kinds for scaling bottles, need hardly be told
that ‘ wax’ is altogether a misnomer, for there is no
Wax in it. It is a compound of several resinous
substances, coloured by some one among the numer-
ous mincral colours. In the finer qualities, gum-lac
is the principal resin, spirit of wine the principal
solvent, and vermilion the chief colouring substance.
Among manufacturers, however, common resin and
spirits of turpentine and Venetian red, or some analo-
gous materials, are sufficiently good for the materials of
‘bottle-wax.’ In this part of the factory bags and boxes
and tubs of the ingredients are disposed conveniently
for the manufacture, and a particular kind of furnace
is provided for melting them. This furnace is deeply
imbedded in brickwork, and situated in a recess quite
secluded from any other part: it has also a very heavy
iron shutter which can be drawn down in front of it in
an instant, and thus render the occurrence of an
accident from fire scarcely possible. The melted
ingredients, when thoroughly mixed, are poured into
vessels to cool, thence to be removed and re-melted in
a way of which we shall speak hereafter.

Proceeding still farther northward, we come to a
pair of folding-cates, which open into the last portion
of this range. We here find the cart and waggon
house, where the carts and waggons are kept which
convey the manufactured aiticle to the London dealers,
the coach, waggon, canal, and railway offices, and the
docks and shipping wharfs. On each side are stables
for the horses, over which are corn and bay lofts.
This brings us to the extremity of the range, to which
an entrance is obtained by foldiug-gates from a small
strect beyond.

Let us now return to the great warchouse, and
ascend one of the iron staircases to the upper range of
buildings. Having surmounted this stair and reached
a platform which crosses the northern end of the ware-
house at a height of above twenty feet from the

round, we obtain a bird's-eye view of the operations

elow; and a busy scene it is. The coopers and
packers are distributed about the whole area beiow ;
crates of empty bottles are being hauled up, and other
crates of filled bottles are being lowered. Opposite,
at the southern end, a large clock mects the eye; and
through the large arched window we catch a glimpse
of bustling Holborn.

Passing from this platform or passage into one of
the valleries, or ‘ filling-ruoms,’ we find doors leading
into the northern range of upper rooins, compris-
ing those in which the manufacture is principally
conducied. One of these, used as a store-room, opens
upon the street behind, from which tubs, and butts, and
casks of ingredients are hauled up and stowed round
the room. The vinegar comes in In casks of sixty
gallons each, the oil in larger casks, the ‘ ivory-black’
or other kinds of black in casks contaming nearly a ton
each, and the remaining ingredients in| packages and
casks of various kinds, according to their quality.

From tle store-room the ingredients are brought
into the ‘tun-room,’ or manufactory, the least attractive
but the most important place in the establishment. It
is singularly occupied. Nearly a hundred tubs, cach
capable of containing about a hundred gallons, are
ranged from end to end of the recom in regular rows,
Each tub is supported on a separate stand, or trestle,
half a yard ia height; and each one is capable of being
moved by a couple of men at a certain stage im the
manufacture. ‘Lhe tubs are all inore or less filled
With blacking, according to the hour of the day when
they are seen. A few of them are filled with blacking
of a stifter or thicker consistence. The room also
contains other vessels and apparatus connected with
the manufacture.

On either side of this room are smaller rooms, in

MAGAZINE. [ DECEMBER, 1842.
which subsidiary portions of the manufacture are car-
ried on. In one are the vessels and arrangements for
filling pots and tin cases with paste-blacking ; and
round this room are stored in immense number ,cylin-
drical packets, each containing a dozen tin-boxes, in-
tended for the use of the army. A soldier is not pro-
vided with any too much room for his implements and
appurtenances, and a bottle of liquid-blacking would
be rather a burden to him. Yet, as the soldier’s boots
or shoes must to some extent emulate the brightness
and glitter of the boots of those who pay for battles
instead of fighting them, a portable blacking appara-
tus is provided. The blacking, instead of being liquid,
is made into stiff paste, and in that state is put into cir-
cular tin-boxes, about three inches in diameter, and
half or three-quarters of an inch thick. What becomes
of the tin-boxes when emptied—whether they are
applied to any useful purpose, or whether, like the
millions of pins made every year, they go no one
knows whither—we cannot say.

From this room we proceed to the western gallery,
or ‘ filling-room,’ a room in which bottles certainly
have the ascendant; for what with hauling up and
opening crates, and disposing bottles on benches, and
filling, and corking, and sealing, and labelling, and
storing on shelves, it is certainly the busiest ‘ bottle-
department’ we have seen. The arrangement of this
room is well adapted to facilitate the rapid progress of
the manufacture. It is about ninety feet in length,
and perhaps one-third as broad. Along the middle
extends a double row of shelves or stands, three or
four in height, cach shelf being calculated to hoid
bottles. Along the eastern and western walls are
similar tiers of shelves or stands adapted for similar
purposes. In the two avenues which separate these
series of shelves are broad benches, fitted for holding
the bottles during the processes of filling, corking,
sealing, pasting, &c. At about the middle of its length
is a door or opening in the east side, which places the
filling-room in communication with the warehouse
below. A crane is fixed immediately outside this
opening, by which crates of empty bottles are drawn
up from the warehouse, and baskets of filled bottles
lowered froin the filling-room. The tiers of shelves
in the room are fixtures; but the benches are provided
with castors or wheels, by which they may be inoved
from place to place, according as convenience may
require. The rvom is lighted by ten or a dozen sky-
lizhts in the daytime, and by gas at night, or rather in
the evening. Aecoidiie to the time of the day when
the filling-ruom is visited, will be the nature of the
operations wituessed ; but at all hours, from an early
time in the morning til eight in the evening, men and
boys are actively engaged in the operations which in-
tervene between the making and the packing of the
ingredient.

The western filling-room communicates with two of
the manufacturing roonis and also with the iron plat-
form stretching across the northern end of the ware-
house. We will therefore pass alung this platform and
visit the castern filling-room, which resembles the
other in its main features. There are ranges of shelves
for bottles, disposed one above another, and in parallel
ranges; but the eastern half of the room is somewhat
differently occupied. Ifere the shelves, instead of
beimg occupied by bottles, contain trays filled with
blacking of a different kind, placed there to cool and
solidify. ‘The benches, too, and the operations of the
workien, are adapted to the preparation of paste-
blacking rather than that of a lhquid kind. All
the shelves in the two filling-houses are capable of
containing six or seven thousand dozens of bottles ;
and as these bottles seldum remain many davs on the
shelves betore they are packed, an incessant inter-

SUPPLEMENT. ] THE PENNY
change is going on—from the manufactory to the fill-
iug-room, from thence to the warehouse, and from
thence to the purchaser. The odour of the filling-
rooms, as well as of those more immediately pertaining
to the manufacture, gives to a visitor unmistakeable
evidence that vinegar is one, and a principal one, of
the ingredients empluyed.

We have now made a tour of the rooms of this
remarkable establishinent, and may next endeavour to
give a slight outline of the modes of proceeding in the |
course of the manufacture. There is, to be sure,
nothing very elaborate, no complicated machinery, no
array of engines and machines for making the com- |
inodity produced ; but still there are some manipula-
tions which strike a‘ stranger as being not a little!
curious, illustrating as they do the dexterity which is |
acquired by long practice in some one particular de-
partment of labour. This dexterity of hand (which,
by the way, is exactly expressed by the French word
“ legerdemain,” although we usually attach a conjuring
meaning to this term) 1s most frequently exhibited in
branches of manufacture where machinery has not

been extensively introduced, and is often more inter- |"

esting to a looker-on than the complicated action of
an elaborate machine.

There are many ingredients employed in the mak-
ing of blacking, each manufacturer having a recipe
of hisown. If, therefore, the reader should look out
for an exposition of the whole affair, the names and
proportions of the ingredients, the temperature of mix-
ture, and so on, we shall not be able to furnish these
details ; for—to use an expression which Scott puts
into the mouth of one of his characters, in relation to
a very different subject—* we cannot, if we would; and
we ought not, if we could.” Let it suffice for our pre-
sent object to know that ivory-black or some similar
substance constitutes the principal colouring-material,
and that vinegar and oil are the two principal hquids,

At five o’clock in the morning, winter and summer,
the manufacture of each day’s quantum of blacking
commences. The work is not extended from day to
day, one portion of the manufacturing processes being
effected on one day and the remainder ou another; but
each day’s labours are complcte in themselves, sv that
a ‘day’ at a blacking-factory is a tolerably uniform
day. The‘ tun-room,’ or that part of this establish-
ment which is called the ‘ manufactory,’ is the scene of
operations in the first instance. The mixing-vessels
are ranged in rank and file over the greater portion of
the room. A stirring or mixing apparatus Is ingeni-
ously contrived so as to be applicable to all the vessels,
one after another, and is worked through the medium
of a shaft descending to a rouin below, where the mov-
ing power is applied. The oil, the black, the vinegar,
and the other ingredients are brought from the adja-
cent store-ruom, and are mixed and worked up in the
requisite proportions; the temperature, the stirring,
and the general order of processes being of course
dependent on the system of manufacture which the
firm pursues.

While the manufacture of the commodity is being
thus carried on in the northern part of the premises,
the other workmen, in the ‘ filling-rooms’ and ware-
house, are preparing for the bottling arrangements.
The bottles employed, as most persons are probably
aware, are made of brown glazed earthenware: they
have very wide mouths, and are made of three differ-
ent sizes, calculated to hold a pint, two-thirds of a pint,
and one-third ofa pint each. They are principally made
at the Derbyshire potteries, and are brought to London
packed with straw in laree cratcs, each crate contain-
ing on an average abou. a hundred dozen bottles, and
weighing half a ton. ‘The crates are first deposited on
the tloor of the warehouse, and are thence hoisted up

MAGAZINE. 513
to the ‘ filling-rooms’ by means of the large cranes
seen in our frontispicce. When a crate is deposited in
the filling-room, it is at once opened, and the bottles
reer on with great quickness from hand to hand, and
aid in regular rows on the broad benches near the
centre of the room. |

When the bottles are all thus arranged, and the
blacking is ina prepared state, the latter is brought
out of the tun-room or manufactory by several men,
each tub or vessel being brought on the stand or frame
by which it is supported. These vessels, to a consider-
able number, are then placed at equal distances near
the bench which contains the empty bottles; and the
process of filling then begins. Each vessel is attended
by aman and a boy, the latter of whom continually stirs
the blacking till the whole of it is bottled. The man
stands by the side of the vessel with his left hand next
to the bench of empty bottles; and in his right hand
he holds a measure, or small can. Taking up a bottle
in his left hand, he fills it with blacking by means of his

(Filling.)

measure; the size of the measure, and the quantity of
blacking which he collects in it at each dipping into
the vessel, being so adjusted to the size of the bottles
as to expedite the process as much as possible. The
laying-down of the filled bottle and the taking up of
an empty one are but the work of a moment; every
little circumstance being pre-arranged which could in
any way facilitate it. '

It might at first thouglit be su poe that this pro-
cess would be effected more nile y if the liquid were
drawn out of a large vessel at once into the bottles by
means of a cock or valve. But there are doubtless
good reasons for adopting the opposite course. It
may be that a sediment would fall to the bottom of the
vessel, or that the liquid would flow from the cock too
rapidly to enable the filling of each bottle to be ad-
Justed to the required point; for the quantity poured
into each bottle is very exact. But be this as 1t may,
the filling is effected by hand; several open vessels
being ranged along the filling-room, and each one
being attended by a man and a boy, whom we may
perhaps term a ‘ filler’ and a ‘ stirrer.’

The corking of the bottles is the next process. We
have said that, in the warehouse beneath, the corks are
stored in bags or sacks containing a hundred gross
(fourteen or fifteen thousand) each. These bags are
opened, and the corks are sorted into different parcels,
according to the sizes of the bottles for which they
may be adapted. They are then conveyed to the
‘ filling-rooms,’ and the process of corking commences.
A man, provided with an ample supply of corks, pro-
ceeds along the range of benches on which the filled
bottles are placed, putting a cork into the mouth of

514 THE PENNY
cach bottle, but without staying to fix or drive it in.
Another man, provided with a wooden mallet, imme-
diately follows him, and forces the corks so far into the
bottles, that the upper surface of-each shall be level
with the top of the bottle, a succession of smart blows
being given to onc cork after another. All this pro-
gresses with very great quickness, the bottles being
ranged with such regularity as to afford every eri
fur the operation. Of the thousands of bottles whic
are filled every day, all are corked in this way, bya
sufficient number of men, each pair taking one bench
or range of benches.

The bottles are filled, and the corks are adjusted in
their places; but sufficient has not yet been done to
secure the blacking in its prison-house. When a cork
is so large as those here employed, the escape of the
liquid contained in the bottle can scarcely be avoided
unless some cement covers the whole surface of the
cork and mouth of the bottle. A coarse kind of seal-
ing-wax, as we have before observed, is used for this
purpose, and is of course applied in a melted state. In
some of the apne rooms of the factory are several
portable stoves for melting the wax. These consist of
tripods, supporting a brasier or pan for containing
ignited charcoal; and immediately above the brasier
is a kind of bowl or ladle for containing the sealing-
wax. This substance, after being prepared, as was
Lefore alluded to, in the lower part of the factory. is
taken up in lumps, and melted in these bowls or ladles.
When melted, it has a creain-like consistence, and pre-
sents the well-known red colour. This apparatus
being ready, and placed close beside the ranges of
filled bottles, a workman proceeds to seal the corks.
He has no brush, no ladle, no contrivance for pouring
the wax on the cork, but, holding the bottle upside
down, he just immerses the corked surface in the
liquid wax. Practice has enabled the men to effect

the dipping so exactly, that the wax rarely comes over
the sides of the bottle. The apparently simple matter
of reversing the bottle again, without scattering the
Wax, or causing it to flow over the sides of the bottle, is
effected by a peculiar movement of the wrist and hand,
Impossible to describe, and difficult to imitate. Many
of our manufactures present. analogous instances, in
which a process is effected quite as much by the mus-
cular movement of the hand as a whole, as by the deli-
cate agency of the fingers. For instance, ‘ imitation’
or ‘raock pearls’ are made by blowing glass beads, so
that each bead shall be hollow and shall havetwo holes
in the exterior; then a liquid, made of a pearl-like
powder obtained from the scales of fish, is dexterously

MAGAZINE. [DecEemBeER, 1842.
blown into the hollow of the bead through a tube; and
by a peculiar twisting of the hand, this single drop of
liquid is made to diffuse itself over the internal surtace
of the bead, without having more or less than just
enough to cover the whole. Again, in type-founding,
when the melted type-metal has been forced into the
mould, the caster throws up his left hand with a pecu-
liar motion, giving it a kind of jerk at the same time
with his right, by which the liquid metal is forced or
shaken into all the minute interstices of the mould.
Instances of this kind might be adduced in great num-
ber} and among them is this one of sealing the filled
bottles. The celerity, too, with which this is effected
is not less note-worthy than the neatness; for a man
can seal one hundred dozens of bottles in an hour, or
twenty in a minute.

The sealing, as well as the filling and corking, is
effected in the two ‘filling-rooms;’ and so is likewise
the next process, which is perhaps the most remarka-
ble to a stranger of all which the factory presents,
from the astonishing rapidity with which it is effected,
—we allude to the pasting of the labels on the bottles.
But before speaking of this process, it will be desirable
to pay a little attention to the labels themselves, the
complexity of which has doubtless puzzled many per-
sons.

Those who have not watched the proceedings of the
last few years in respect of colour-printing, can per-
haps scarcely conceive how the printing of these black-
ing labels can be effected. Jfwe examine one of “ Day
and Martin's” labels, we see that nearly the whole of
the ground consists of a kind of lace-work, printed in
red on white paper, the meshes or interstices being

robably about one-twentieth of an inch in diameter.
his ground-work, occupying about sixteen square
inches, is diversified by several compartments printed
in black ink; one, for instance, containing a view of
the front facade of the factory; another, the name of
the firm; a third, the retail price of the commodity
contained in the bottle; a fourth, the number of the
house, curiously bedecked with a double enunciation
of the name of the firm; and two others containing
remarks and directions to the purchaser. All these
are printed with black ink on the white paper, no red
lace-work being here seen. Above these are letters
printed in black and white on a wavy or undulating
ground of black, red, and white; while at the top are
black letters, and at the bottom letters in white, red,
and black, printed on, or at least interspersed among,
the lace-work ground itself. All this relates to the
labels for the liquid blacking contained in bottles; and
the circular labels for paste blacking are on the same
principle, through different in detail.

Now it may naturally be asked by those to whom
the subject is new, how these various devices, and these
differently coloured inks, can be imprinted on one piece
of paper without confusion or distortion. Without
going into any description of the various modes by
which printing in diverse colours is now effected, we
will attempt a brief sketch of the contrivance by which
these labels are produced. One of the rooms in the
factory is a printing-room, in which is contained a
beautiful machine, invented by Mr. E. Cowper, of
King’s College, who was the original patentee of the
machine by which this Magazine is printed. It is a
cylinder printing-machine, specially adapted for print-
ing many-coloured devices, such as those on these
Jabels. There is one cylinder for printing all the
red portion, and another for printing the black. Eight
labels are printed at once, but it will simplify the
description if we speak only of one. Jn the first place
a stereotype plate 1s arranged for receiving the device
of the black portion of the labe] ; and another, exactly
the same size, for the red portion. These plates, for

SUPPLEMENT. ]

the liquid blacking, measure rather less than five
inches by four; and on the surface is depicted, tm re-
ae all the letters and ornaments, which are afterwards
inked and printed; the plates being prepared, we
believe, by a combined process of casting, stamping,
and modelling. The plates are so exactly adjusted,
that every raised part in one of them shall coincide
with a depressed part in the other, and vice versd.
This is in fact precisely the same principle as that on
which the several blocks for printing floor-cloths are
adjusted, as described in one of our recent Supple-
ments. The pgature of the adjustment might be in-
structively shown by printing a label by hand with the
two plates; although, of course, this would never do
in practice. We might take one of the plates, care-
fully ink its surface either by an inking-ball or an ink-
ing-roller, and then impress it on a piece of damp
paper. Then (supposing the first inking to have been

lack) if we ink the second plate with red, and print
the paper a second time, the clearness or confusion of
the resulting device would correctly measure the
degree of accuracy with which the one impression was
superposed on the ther. It would be seen how very
sinall a deviation from exactness in the adjustment of
the second plate would be sufficient to give a distorted
appearance to the label.

If the printing-machine were adapted for flat print-
ing, these prepared plates might be adjusted to a flat
bed or support. But a cylinder-machine is employed,
in which both the plates lie on the surface of cylinders.
Here, however, a difficulty at once occurs. If flat
plates be placed on a curved surface, it is easy to see
that they cannot conform to the curvature of that sur-
face; and the mode of contact between the plates and
a sheet of paper to be printed would be wholly incom-

atible with the object in view. The means had there-
fore to be devised of curving the plates without dis-
turbing the device on their surfaces; and this has been
effected. Eight plates, all exactly alike, are bent in
conformity with the curvature of the cylinders, and are
then fixed to the surface of one of the cylinders by
means of delicate adjusting mechanism. Eight other
plates, all alike, but differing from the former, are
similarly fitted to the surface of the other cylinder.
These two cylinders are so adjusted in the machine
as to rotate in contact, or nearly in contact, with a
third, round which a sheet of paper may be made to
travel. An inking apparatus for black ink is placed
near one cylinder at one end of the machine; another
apparatus for red ink is fixed near the other cylinder
at the other end; and when the machine is at work, if
x sheet of damp paper be placed at one end, it is drawn
into the machine, carried over and under various rollers,
and made to pass under the two cylinders. Meanwhile,
by various rollers and other connecting mechanism,
the eight plates on the one cylinder become coated or
charged on the projecting parts with black ink, and
those on the other with red; and matters are so ad-
justed, that exactly when the paper comes near the
black-inked cylinder, the plates are ready to prirt;
and immediately after the paper has received its black
impress, it is caught by the other cylinder and printed
with the red portion of the device. As may be readily
supposed, the most scrupulous exactness of adjustment
is necessary, in order to ensure the juxtaposition of
the red and black portion of the device at the proper
places. By means of adjusting-screws, the printing-

lates can be shifted to so minute a distance as the two-
iundredth of an inch, in order to bring the ‘ register,’
or superposition of device, at the proper points. One
grain of ink only is used to print eight labels. The
circular labels for the paste-blacking tin boxes, as well
as the square ones for the bottles, are printed at this
press. The demand is so large and so constant, that

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

515

the machine is nearly always at work; and when the
sheets of labels are printed, boys are employed to cut
the separate labels from them.

These are the labels, then, which we are now to see
pasted on the bottles. One man or boy can paste as
many labels as two others can attach to the bottles, su
that they work together in groups of three. On the
bench is placed on the one side a large tub of paste,
and on the other a ranged series of filled and scaled
bottles. A heap of labels is laid down face downwards,
and the paster pastes them one by one with a brush.
The dexterity in this simple act is not in the pasting,
but ina peculiar final touch with the brush, by which
the pasted label is jerked off the heap, and caught in
the left hand. So rapidly is this effected, that one man
will paste a label, jerk it off the heap, catch it in his
left hand, and lay it on one side, nearly two thousand
times in an hour; for one man can thus paste a hun-
dred and sixty dozen labels in this time. As fast as
the labels are pasted, the other two workmen attach
them to the bottles. Fach one takes a bottle in his
left hand, and a pasted label in his right, and attaches
the one to the other by two or three touches which the
eye can scarcely follow. Toa spectator it seems that
almost before the bottle is taken fairly into the hand,
it is laid down again, properly labelled. Jet any un-
initiated person endeavour thus to secure sixteen Jabcls
per minute to as many bottles, and sce what progress

e will inake.

[Labelling.}

The labelling of the bottles is the last process which
is effected in the filling-room. All the bottles, after
having been labelled, are ranged on the systems of
shelves in the filling-rooms, and there kept till the

aste is propery hardened. They are then put into a

asket, and lowered from the filling-room to the ware-
house by the aid of one of the cranes. Here they pass
into the hands of the packcrs and coopers. The gene-
ral mode of sending out the bottles from the factory
is in casks, containing from three to a hundred dozens.
The casks are eee by the ae to the proper
dimensions, and the packers proceed with their work.
This, like many other apparently simple operations,
requires tact and judgment. The packer first ranges
a circle of bottles round the inner surface of the cask,
then encircles a wisp of straw within this ring of
bottles, and then arranges a smaller ring. In this
way he proceeds till one tier is filled ; sat by the aid
of a stick or wedge he inserts straw and extra bottles
wherever there is room for the one or the other, until
at length the whole are jammed immoveably together.
A second tier of bottles is then built up, separated
from the lower one by.a layer of straw; and this is in

516

a similar manner hardened and compressed till nothing
can shake about or become displaced. Soon to the
top of the cask, which is finally topped with straw, and
the head fastened in, ready for marking and carting.

Such is the career of a bottle of blacking, before it
leaves the hands of the manufacturer. But there are
one or two other forms of blacking which we may
briefly notice, in illustration of the arrangements of
this factory.

We have before said that in one of the rooms of the
factory small tin boxes are pe in great number,
and that these contain, or are destined to contain, paste-
blacking for the use of the army. Whether any par-
ticular ingredients are used in this composition, differ-
ent from or in addition to those which compose liquid
blacking, we do not know; but the consistence to
which it is mixed is much stiffer. The paste-blacking,
when fully prepared, is contained ina large vessel or
tub, round which two or more boys place themselves,
each one provided with a small scoop or ladle, shaped
iike a spoon, with the handle affixed to one side instead
of one end. ‘Tin boxes are close at hand, which the
boys take one by one, and fill with the thick paste-like
blacking. All the boxes, as they are filled, are ranged
in rows in the filling-room, where they remain till the
blacking has solidified, and assuined a stiff clayey con-
sistence. Then, tin covers are put on them, and they
are packed in dozens, and wrapped in papcr. They
reach the soldiers, we believe, through the mcdium of
the army clothiers.

There is another kind of paste-blacking which is
sold in little wide-mouthed stone pots, something like
crucibles. This is nearly the same in ouality as the
soldiers’ blacking; while the pots are of the same
character, as to matcrial, as the bottles. The paste-
blacking is laded into them by the same simple appa-
ratus as into the tin boxes, and is then allowed to stand
aside to sulidify; after which the mouths of the pots
are well secured with paper.

Another form of blacking, different from all the
others, remains yet to be noticed. This is a kind which
is stiffer than liquid of bottle blacking, but thinner
than the other kinds: it is in fact a soft paste. Its
mode of being packed into a saleable form, after the
manufacture is finished, is very different from the other
instances. Shallow moulds or trays are provided,
about half a yard long, two-thirds as wide, and half an
inch or so in depth. Into these moulds the paste-
blacking is poured or laded from a large vessel; and
the moulds are then put by on shelves to cool and
solidify. One side of the eastern filling-room contains
a very large number of these moulds, standing by till
their contained blacking has become cool. When this
cooling is effected, each tray or mould is laid flat on a
bench, and onc of the edges or ledges is removed, so as
to enable a knife to be passed under the solidified
blacking, as a means of loosening it from the bed of
the mould. The whole sheet of blacking, if we may so

THE PENNY MAGAZINE.

[DrecemneEr, 1842.

term it, is then cut up into six dozen rectangular
pieces, twelve in length and six in width, by a con-
venient kind of knife; and the cakes are then im the
shape in which thev aie sold. But they are too soft to

‘(Packing Paste-blacking.)

be left without a covering; while, on the other hand,
they require neither bottles, pots, nor tin boxes. Pieces
of paper, first printed with the name of the manufac-
turer, &c., are well saturated with oi], and when dry,
are fit to be used as wrappers to the small cakes of
blacking. The papers are laid flaton a bench, one
cake is put into each, and by one of those neat and ex-
peditious manipulations which so many other parts of
the factory exhibit, the cakes are bee pee up, each in
its oiled paper. Then, in order to sell these cakes to
the dealers ina form fit to be handled, small wooden
boxes are provided, each capable of holding a certain
number, packed neatly one upon another.

Thus have we rapidly sketched the chief manufac-
turing features of the place, so far as is necessary for
the present object; and have to acknowledge the cour-
tesy of the proprictors in furnishing the facilities for
so doing. very day, we have said, witnesses a pretty
regular and uniform series of operations. The actual -
manufacture takes place at an carly hour in the
morning; while the bottling, corking, sealing, label-
ling, moulding, and wrapping cake-blacking, bottle-
washing, &c., occupy the remaining hours of the
day in the upper and hinder rooms. The packing in
the warehouse is so arranged as to enable the waggons
and carts to be dispatched with onc cargo to the vari-
ous dealers, wharfs, docks, &c., in different parts of
town, at a pretty early hour in the morning; and with
another cargo ata later Nghe of the day. Taken alto-
gether, it must be ewned that a day at * Day and Mar-
tin’s” is an early dav, and a long day, and a busy day.

END OF VOLUME THE ELEVENTH.

©, The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Usefal Knowledge ts at 42, Bedford Square.
LONDON: CHARLES KNIGHT & CO,, 22, LUDGATE STREET.
Printed by Wiirtam Crowne and Sons, Stamford Street.

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