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Full text of "The Penny Magazine of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge"

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Pz/Lt fa") 



HARVARD COLLEGE 
LIBRARY 



FROM THE FUND OF 

CHARLES MINOT 

CLASS OF 1828 



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-■Y Si >Xo <f - 



■^ - V" 

FEB 24 1891 



OOMMXTTSS. 

Ckwwaii-The Right Hon. LORD BROUGHAM. F.R.S., Member of the National Institute of France. 

Ftce-CAatrmoa— The Right Hon. EARL SPENCER. 

Treasurer— JOHN WOOD, Esq. 



William Allen. Esq.. F.R. and R.A.S. 

(' .ptain Beau for i, R.N., F.R. aud R.A.S. 

Georae Burrows, M.D. 

lVof.-asor Carev, A.M 

John Conolly.M.D. 

Will nun Gui'lson, Esq. 

T e Riuht Rev. ihe Bishop of St. David's. D.D. 

J F. Duvi* Esq..F R.S 

Sir Henry De la Beche. F.R.S. 

11 w Right Hon. Lord Den man. 

Rimuel Duckworth. Esq. 

The Right Rev. the Bishop of Durham, D.D. 

T\ F E lis, Esq.. A.M., F.R A.S. 

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

Thomas Falconer. Esj 

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

Sir I. L GohUmid. Bart., F.R. and R A.S. 

F. H. Goldsmid, Esq. 



IL.9. 



Bart., M.P. 



Mr. Sergeant Manning. 

R. I. Murchison. Esq., F.R.S . F.G.S. 

The Right Hon. Lord Nugent. 

W. S OB lien, Esq., M.P. 

Professor Quuin. 

P. M. Ruget, M.D.. Sec. R.S , F.R.A.S. 

R. W. Roihman. E*<|.,A.M. 

Sir Martin Archer Shee, P.R.A., F.R.S. 

Sir George T Staunton. Bart., M.P. 

John Taylor. Esq , F.R S. 

Professor Thomson. M.D., F.L.S. 

Tliomas Vardon. Esq. 

Jacob Walev, Esq.. B.A. 

Ja*. Walker, Esq., F.R.S., Pr. Inst. Civ. Eng. 

H. Wuymoutli, Esq. 

Tlios. Webster, Esq.. A.M. 

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

J. A. Yates, Esq. 



Allm, Staffordshire— Rev. J. P. Jones 
Anglesca— Rev. E. Williams. 

Rev. W. Johnson. 

— Miller, Esq. 
Barnstaple Bencraft, Esq. 

William Gribble, E»q. 
Belfast — Jag. L. Drummond. M.D. 
Birmingham— Pawl Moou James, Esq., Trea- 

surer. 
Bridpurt— James Williams. Esq. 
Bristol J.N. Samlers, Esq.. F.G.S., Chairman. 

J. Reynolds, Esq., Treasurer. 

J. B. Estlin, Esq , F.L.S.. Secretary. 
Calcutta — James Young, Esq. 

C. II. Cameron, Esq. 
Cambridge — Rev. Leonard Jenyns, M. A., F.L.S. 

Rev. John l.odge. M.A. 

Rev Prof. Sedgwick. M.A., F.R.S. & G.S. 
Canterbury— John Brent, Esq , Alderman. 

William Masters, Esq. 
Car/ts/e-Tliomas Barnes, M.D.. F.R.S.E. 
Carnarvon — R. A. Poole, Esq. 

William Roberts, Esq. 
Chester— Henry Poits, Esq. 
Chichester— C C. Dendy. Esq. 
Cuchermouth— Rev. J. Whitridge. 
Corfu- John Crawford, Esq. 

Plato Petrides. 
Coventry — C. Bray, Esq. 
Denbigh— Thomas Evans, Esq. 
Derby — Joseph Strutt, Esq. 

Edward Strutt. Esq , M.P. 
Dcronport and Stmehouse— John Cole, Esq. 

John Norman. Fsq. 

Lt. Col. V Hamilton Smith, F.R.S. 
Durliam— The Very Rev. the Dean. 
Edinburgh— J. S. Trail, M.D. 



LOCAL COMMXTTSSS. 

Etrwria— Josiah Wedgwood, Esq. 
Exeter— 3. Tvrrell, Esq. 

John Milford, Esq. (Coriwr.) 
Glamorganshire— W. Williams. Esq., Aber- 

pcrgwm. 
Glasgow— K. Finhiy, Esq. 

Alexander McGrigor, Esq. 

James Con per, Esq. 

A. J. D. DOrsay, Esq. 
Guernsey— F C. Lukiss, Esq. 
Hitcham, Suffolk— Rev. Professor Henslow, 

M.A.. F.L.S. & G.S. 
Hull— James Bowdcu, Esq. 
Leeds— 3. Marshall. Esq. 
Lewes- J. W. Woollgar, Esq. 

Henrv Browne, Esq. 
Liverpool I*oc. As.— 3. Mullencux, Esq. 

Rev. Wm. Shepherd, LL.D. 
Maidstone— Clement T. Smyth, Esq. 

John Case, Esq. 
Manchester 1a>c. As.—G. W. Wood, Esq., 
M.P., Ch. 

Sir Benjamin Hcvwood. Bt.. Treasurer. 

Sir George Philips, Bart., M.P. 

T. N. Winstanle*, Esq. Hun. Sec. 
Merthyr Tydml-Sir J.J. Guest, Bart., M.P. 
MincJiinhampUn — John G. Ball, Esq. 
Neath — John Rowland, Esq. 
Newcastle -Hex. W. Turner. 

T. Sonwith. Esq. 
Newport, Isle of ff'iyht-Ab. Clarke, Esq. 



T. Cooke, Jun., Esq. 

R G. Kirknatrick, Ksq. 
Newport Pagnell—J. Millar, Esq. 
Norwich — Richard Bacon, Esq. 

Wm. Forster, Esq. 
Orselt, Essex— Dr. Corbett. 



Oxford— Ch. Daubeny, M.D., F.R.S., Prof. Chen. 

Rev. Baden Powell, Sav. Prof. 

Rev. John Jordan. BA. 
Pesth, Hungary— Count Sxechenvl. 
Plymouth— H. Woollcombe, Esq.". F.A.S., CM. 

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

E. Moor, M.D., F.L.S., Secretary. 

G. Wight wick, Esq. 
Presteign— Kt. Hon. Sir H. Brydges, Bart. 

A. W. Davis, M.D 
Ripon-JHev. H. P. Hamilton, M.A., F.R.S., GA 

Rev. P Ewart. M.A. 
Ruthin— The Rev. the Warden. 

Humph revs Jones, Esq. 
R/de, I. of fright— Sir R. D. Simeon, Bt. 
SaJisbun/— Rev. J. Bnrfitt. 
Sheffield- J. H. Abraham, Esq. 
Shepton Mallet— G. F. Burroughs, Esq. 
Shrewsbury— R. A. Shine y, Esq. 
South Petherton—JoUu Nicholetts, Esq. 
Stockport— H- Marsland, Esq., Treasurer. 

Henrv Conpock, Esq.. Secretary. 
Si/dney, New S. Walts— \\. M. Manning, Esq. 
Swansea — Matthew Moggridgv, Esq. 
Tavistock— R.v. W. Evans. 

John Rundle, Esq.. M.P. 
Truro— Henry Sewoll Stoke*, Esq. 
Tunbridge fJ'ells—T)T. Yeats. 
Vttoxeter— Robert Blurt on, Esq. 
Virginia, U. S. — Professor Tucker. 
Worcester— Clint. Hastings, M.D. 

C. H. Hebb, Esq. 
Wrexham— Thomas Edg worth, Esq. 

Major Sir William Lloyd. 
Yarmuuih— C. E. Rumlwld, Esq. 

Dawson Turner, Esq. 
For*— Rev. J. Keurick, M.A. 

John Phillips, Esq , F.R.S.. F.G S. 



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



i.r 









London : Printed by William Clowks and Sons, Stamford Street. ' 

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INDEX TO VOL. XI. 



I 



,fs of Tierra del Fuego, 33, 
tstralia, 65; Brazil. 89; Now 
d, 132; Van Diemen's Land, 
andwich Islands. 229 ; Nootka 
265; Kamtchatka, 345 
stan, 324, 361 
Are in Greece, 296 
•"sure of, in relation to the hu- 
ody, 50 

wn in Algeria, 328 
»ere, constitution of, adjusted to 
1 and vegetable life, 224 
a, Western, sufferings of an ex 
ig party in, under Captain Grey, 
is9, 246 
Arts- ..Ja, Western, bush life in, 244 
Australia, North- Western, geology of, 

16 
Australia, South, and Port Lincoln, I 
Australia, progress of geographical dis 

CO' ery in. 2tk* 
Australia, overlanders of, 136 

B vskets and their materials, 445 
Basque Provinpe-s, U6 
rWvm at Hadley, 281 
Benefit Clubs, autiquity of, 279 
Bird*, food of, 18* 
Boats or rude nations, 71 
Bali m food, 34 

B mnet-Monkev, natirnl history of, 399 
Ba-»k waters— C erbourg, 163; Ply- 
mouth, 19.26 
Bridt^s in the Himalaya, 168 
Brigands, modern. 20,"ll7, 130. 257 
Banal* in Asia Minor, 16 

CivAntAN vovngctirs. 400 
Canals of London. 318, 326, 330 
Canoe* of Guiana, 16 
Caule shows, 52 
Cavern in Corsica, 492 
Cements and artificial stones. 158 
Ceylon, artificial lakes in. 479 
Cheese-making in the United States. 98 
Chemical science, importance of, in 

manufactures, 91 
Giiffrtunicrs of Paris, 279 
Chile and Santiago, lb9 
Chimneys and chimney-sweepers, 323 
Chtuese boats, 356 
Cliff-crane in shipwrecks, 240 
Cuear. Jaqnes, the great merchant, 75 
Coinage, wear and tear of, 335 
Ctdogne and the cathedral, 44 J, 460 
Colour of the ocean, 78 
Commerce, duty of encouraging, 376 
Com i>ensa lion balance, 200 
Coral n-efs, 355 
Cosmoramas, dioramas, and panoramas, 

:>G3 
Courtier, old and young, 49; ancient 
hospitality and charity, 57 ; decay of 
the old forms of hospitality and 
eh airy, 128; fea-ts and entertain- 
ments, 153; Christmas in the old 
hall, 193; the new hall. 220; sports 
and games, 241 ; apparel, 305 
Coventry mysteries. 3u5 
Culinary delicacies of thirteenth cen- 
tury. 51 
Cultivation of mountainous districts, 

217 
Culture, effects of, 480 
(' irrants of Greece. 192 
Custom house, London, 93 

Dandcuoh. 59 

Decimal division of the coinage. 370 

Diamond-carriers of Bio Janeiro, 100 

Dies, preparation of, for coins and me- 
dals. 231 

Distinction, desire of, 376 

Dog or Newfoundland, 347 

Dyeing, red, blue, and yellow, plants 
used for, 438, 451, 479 



Ear-tauupxts and voice-conductors, 11 
Eist Indian population, 19 
Emigration commissioners, duties of. 

112 
Ephesus. temple of Diana at, 167 
Evesham abbey and churches, 404 

Factories, visits to, describing various 
manufactures and arts: — soap and 
candle-making. 41 ; gas, 81 ; church 
clocks and bells. 121; pianofortes. 
169; leather. 209; copper and lead 
manufactures, 249; distilling, 297; 
manufacture of floor-cloth. 337 ; book- 
binding, 377; vinegar and British 
wine. 425; rope and sail-cloth, 465; 
blacking, 509 

Female farmers, 260 

Fen draining in the eastern counties, 
198 

Fish, fresh- water, notices of :— the eel, 
37; pike, 69; Thames pike, 160; 
trout. 245: carp, 269; perch, 316; 
grey mullet, 3u9 ; roach and dace, 
4.J6 ; char, *76 

Fbhcs, peculiarities respecting their 
growth. 55 

Fooi, mechanism of the. 260 

Forest-clearing, effects of, on lakes 
und streams. 502 

Friendly Societies, improvement of, 387 

Froissart and his Chronicle, 9: the 
battle of Cressy. 137 ; siege of Calais, 
177 ; battle of Poitiers. 201, 222 ; 
the Black Prince in Spain, 266, 313 ; 
one of the " Deeds of Arms" of Chi 
valry, 353; Edward III. aud the 
Countess of Salisbury, 385; The 
Arteveids. 406, 417; The Journey to 
the Court of Gaston de Foix, 441 ; 
Froissart at the Court of Gaston de 
Foix, 457; Froissurt in England, 
481; Richard II. and Bolingbroke. 
493. 

Furze, uses of, 19 

Qanoks, scenes on the, 165 
Gastric juice, 280 
Gems, useful applications of. 474 
Glacier in the Himalayas, 347 
Gibraltar in January, &4 
Ground-ice, 311 

Habitations of the labouring classes, 

and their influence on character, 377 
Hamburgh, hutory of, 237 ; great Arc at, 

270 
Hands of the ape. 192 
Hay, proper time for cutting, 272 
Hedges of dwarf-oak, 164 
Heme's Oak, 156 
Holland House, 4 
Holland as it was and as it is, 139 
Holland, the jricturesque in, 152 
HougKong, 500 
Horses in the East, and their treatmeut, 

447.454 
Houses of Constantinople, 376 
Houses, mode of removing, in the United 

States, 284 

Identity of persons. 101 
Improvements. Public, in 1812, 505 
India, steam communication with, 225, 

235 
Inscription on the statue of Memnon, 

389 
Irbh sketches: — the Irish cloak. 401 ; 

Irish beggars, 433; the country girl, 

473 ; girls carrying water. 437 
Iron houses, 320 
Irrigation in Afghanistan, 203 

Japan, social state of, 1% 

Kauatj. natural history of the, 8 
Kenilworth, 308 
Kingstou, Canada, 396 



Labour, mental . division of, 2 

Lambert, Daniel, 24 

Landrail feigning death, 99 

Land reprisals in the middle ages in 

Italy. 80 
Land, tenure of, in Guernsey, 315 
Latitude popularly explained, 416 
Levelling, process of, 391 
Light-houses, recent improvements in, 

286,294 
London life of last century, 76 
London fires, 480 

Machinery, great principle of, 403 
Mnmertine prison, Rome. 13 
Manufactures of linen and cotton ai 

Appenzell, 6 
Mapping, Model, or Relief Maps, 497 
Markets in St. Petersburg, 464 
Meat, old and new modes of render- 
ing cheap, 143 
Medal or relief engraving, 495 
Men, great, local memories of :— Gold 
smith. 25; Thomson, 113; Pou»»n, 
161 
Merchants' Marks, or Symbols, 503 
Meteor monks of Thessaly. 453 
Michaelmas Goose, 398 
Milk, 19 

Mule, liabits of the. 395 
Music of nature in Norway, 56 

Newfoundland and St. John's, 289 
Niagara, whirlpool of, 168 
Night m Newfoundland, 355 
Ning po, 105 

Oil, effect of, in stilling waves. 205 

Oils, perfumed, mode of preparing in 
India. 120 

Olive tree, and its effects on social eco- 
nomy. 36 

Orchidacese, 336 

Passino-Bkll, 15 

Paston Letter*, 106, 115 

Pekin Gazette. 64 

Persons, identity of, 101 

Pillory, punishment of the, 108 

Plains, geographically considered, 485, 
490 

Plants, connection between the colour 
and odour of, 67 

Plauts. how nourished. 228 

Plants, growth of, in glazed cases, 
239 

Polygars of Tinnevelly,77 

Population, demands of annual in- 
crease of, 464 

Population, improved, advantages of 
an, 480 

Printing in Bombay, 244 

Printing posting-bills, 30 

Property in land iu Thessaly, 99 

Radcmftr, Dr., and the Radclifle Li- 
brary, 22 

Railroads in Germany. 148 

Railway-goods traflle, 394. 411 

R. it way Humbles :— Burnhnm Beeches, 
277; Dropmore, 321 ; Ca*siobury, 
333,348; Moor Park, 413, 420 

Rhubarb. 168 

Rivers, geographical lv considered, 331, 
351,339,368.374 " 

Roads iu Russia, 32 

Roads and road-making in the United 
States, 207 

Roman Peasantry, 329, 393 

Russian Serfs, 60 

Salterns. 483 

Sbakspere, birth-place of, 273 
Shawls of Kashmir, manufacture of, 
319 



JL 



Shearwater or Black Ski 

history of, 31 
Shrimp, uses of the, 13d 
Sitierian fowling, 483 
Silk -worms, attempts to rear, in Enz- 

laud, 15U 
Singapore, 140 

Slates, slaters, and slating, 19 
Slate- quarries at Drlabole, Cornwall, 

263 
Slavery in Russia, 188 
South-Sea Bubble. 2W, 317 
Sponge of Syme, 483 
Spring-balances, 103 
Squirrel, tamo, anecdote of, 187 
Steam-engine, supposed early inven 

tion of, 104 
Steam, minor uses of, 455 
Strawberry-hill, 181 
Swans and swan-upping, 277 
Sweetheart Abbey, 3. 2 
Swimming, Indian mode of. 16 
Swiss Herdsmen, cummer time of, 499 
Swords, Persian, 196 

Talkoalla, natural history of the, 292, 

311 
Tape, manufacture of, 371 
Tapioca, 456 
Tea in As>am, 56 * 
Temperature of the human body, 403 
Tench, tenacity of life iu the. 36 
Tenements, labourers', condition of, in 

England, ^37 
Thebe*. 408 

Tiger, love of the, for humau flesh, 99 
Time, 462 
Time, mode of measuring, in the East, 

148 
Titles of honour, 478 
Tram-road* in Ancient Greece, 155 
Travels of Nicander N»cius in England 
- in the sixteenth century, 95 
Travelling post in Russia*. 73 
Travelling in the American prairies, 

Travelling, Tartar, in Turkey. 14 

Trees :— Scotch lir. 17 ; Elm, 61 ; Plane. 
97 ; Acacia, or Locust Tree. K5 ; Wil- 
low, 1«5; Chestuut, 204; Oak, 26 1, 
282; Maple. 388; Birch, -*0i); Haw- 
thorn, 449; Ash. 484 

Trees, proper management of, 373 

Trees, pruning. 43'J 

Trial by ordeal. 39, 53 

Tunnel in Shakspere's Cliff, 290 

Varnished wares of the Burmese, 28 
Velvet, nature and manufacture of, 

357 
Villages in the mountains of Arabia, 

Volcanic eruption in the Sandwich 
Islands, 274 

Waooons in Germany, 287 
Water supplied by machinery and hand- 
carriage, economy of, compared, -.63 
Wax, sources and u\es of, 23 
Wheat, experiments iu the cultivation 

of. 19 
Whitehall aud Hans Holbein's Gate, 

197 
Willow, economical uses of. 434 
Winds of warm couutries, 415 
Windsor as it was, 1 1 1, 119 
Wines made in the United States, 63 
Wines of the ion inn Islands, *0:J 
Wolsey after his tall, 226, 233, 247 
Wood 'rafts on the Enz in Germanv, 

27f 
Woods, omnmeutal, used iu the arts. 

133 
Woodcock, Eliinbeth. 72 
Wyoming, Vale of, 489 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 



SUBJECT. 
Boston Bay, South Australia . . . 
Holland House, Kensingtou . • . 

TbeKnhau 

Portrait of Froissart ...... 

Cell in the Mamertine Prison • • . 

Scotch Firs 

Bandit reposing. — From Pinelli . • . 

t toldsmMi. from Sir J. Reynolds , and 

Mill j.t Auburn, from Crvswick . • 

Varnished Ware of the Burmese . • . 



r» 



PAot. DESiaNKRS. 



Anelay. 

W.Harvey. 

Shepherd. 
Martin. 



Anelay. 
B. Slv. 



INOKAVEBS. 

Sears. 

Holloway. 

Jackson.* 

Whiting. 
Murdon. 
Mi. Hampton. 

Andrew. 
Crowe. 



SUBJECT. paoi. 

Burmese Lathe 29 

Burmese Cup 29 

Bill of the Shearwater ..... 31 

The Shearwater 32 

Fuegians 33 

The sharp-nosed Eel 37 

Soap-boiling Coppers 41 

Filling Soap-frames 45 

Cutting Soap 46 

Morgan's Mould-machine for Candles . 47 

Digitized by 



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1. KNORAVUKS. 


B. Sly. 


Wragg. 


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Crowe. 


Wells. 


Wragg. 


, , 


Sears. 


Timbrill. 


F. Smvth. 


Anclav. 


Murdon. 


B. Sly. 


S. Sly. 



Google 



ILLUSTRATIONS. 



SUBJECT. PAOE. DK8IONXB*. 

Machine for cutting Candlewicks . . 48 B. Sly. 

Dippiug-Machine ....... 48 ,,' 

Old aud Youns Courtier. No. 1 . . 49 R.W. Buss. 

Smithfleld Cattle-Show 62 Lee. 

Old and Young Courtier. No. 2 . . 57 R.W. Buss. 

The Elm 60 Anelay. 

Corrohopy Dance 65 , , 

The Pike 69 

Russian Travelling 73 Tim brill. 

Polygars ......... 77 Jurvis. 

Westminster Gas-works 81 Timbrill. 

View through Retort-house .... 85 , . 

<Jas. Meter ......... 88 ,, 

Brazilian Indians 89 Anelay. 

Long-room, Custom-house .... 93 Shepherd. 

The Plaue Tree 97 Anelay. 

Convoy ot Diamonds 100 ,. 

Ning-Po 105 Gmham. 

Pilori des Halles. Paris 104 Tiffin 

Robert Oekham in the Pillory ... 109 Brandard. 

Thomson and his I<oc:ilities *. ... 113 Anelay. 

Brigand*.— From Pined i 117 Pinelli. 

Clock of St. Ann's Church. Limehouse 121 B. Slv. 

Clock Wheel cutting Engine ... 124 ,," 
8 riking Apparatus of a Turret Clock .126 , , 

Casting-pit of a Bell Foundry ... 128 , , 

Old and Young Courtier. No. 3 . . 129 R. W. Buss. 

Natives of New Zealand 132 Anelay. 

BittleofC.ejsy 1;$7 W.Harvey. 

Singapore J 40 C. Graham. 

The Acacia, or Locust Tree . . . . 145 Anelay. 

Biiildiugof Westminster Bridge . . .149 Fairholt. 

Old aud Young Courtier. No. 4 ... 153 R. W. Buss. 

Heme'* Oak, Windsor 156 Rev. Dr. Spry. 

Cakand Avenue of Elms, Windsor Home 

»*ark 157 Delamotte. 

Prussia, from a Portrait by himself. 

Louviers ; P«*asams of the Department 

of Eure ; Chateau Gaillard ; Evrenx ; 

Pont Audomer 161 Anelay. 

Boats on the G inge* ...... 165 , , 

Interior of Ml'jw* Broad wood's Factory 

—West Central range ....*. 169 Fairholt. 

Key-cutter at work 173 ,, 

Treble-action of Square Pianoforte . . 174 , , 

Fret-cutter at work 175 , , 

Internal Mechanism of a Cabinet Piano- 
forte 176 ,, 

Sunender of Calais 177 Harvev. 

Strawberry Hill, View from Garden . 181 Tiffin.' 

., Interior of Library . 18 1 ,. 

TheWiliow '. . 185 Gilbert. 

Santiago, Chile ....... 189 (Graham. 

Koot of Man and of Orang-Utnn . . 192 B Sly. 

Old and Young Courtier. No. 5. . . 19.) R. W Bnss. 

Whitehall and Holbein's Gatehouse . 197 Fairholt. 

Compensation Balance ..... 200 B. Sly. 

Battle or Poitiers 201 Harvey. 

The Edible Chestnut 204 Gilbert. 

Le.ives and Blossom of ditto .... 205 B. Slv. 
Neckinger Mills leather-Manufactory. 

Hermondsey 209 B.Sly. 

Drawing Goai -skins ...... 211 Fairholt. 

Uuhairing a Goat-skin ..... 212 „ 

Sumach Tan tub 212 „ 

leather-splitting Machine .... 214 „ 

Staking tawed leather 2l5 „ 

Ot I -leather Fulling-stocks .... 216 „ 

Terrnce Cultivation 217 W. H. Prior. 

Old and Young Courtier. No. 6. . . 220 R W. Buss. 

Sue/., from the Sea 225 W. H. Priur. 

Sandwich Islanders 229 Webber. 

Ruins of Leicester Abbey .... 233 Porter. 

Hamburgh from the Alster .... 23/ C. Graham. 

Old and Young Courtier. No. 7. . . 241 W. R. Bu?s. 

The Tr.»ut 245 Anelav. 

Coppersmith's Shop 249 B. Sly. 

Lead Foundry . 252 „ 

Lead Mill and Frame 2i2 „ 

Mould for casting Lead Pipe . . . 253 „ 

Drawing-bench for Pipes 253 „ 

Drilling Machine .256 „ 

Screw-cutting Lathe 255 „ 

Brigands ......... 257 From Pinelli. 

Oak Tree 261 Martin. 

Interior of a Nootka-Sonnd Dwelling . 265 Webber. 

Carp . 26^ Anelay. 

John Shakspere's House, Stratford . 273 Harvey. 

Burnham Beeches 277 Tiffin. 

Swau-mark 278 Yarrel. 

Iladley Church Tower and Beacon . . 281 Jackson. 

Removing Houses in America . . . 284 A. J. Mason. 
Side View of Timber Frame-work for ditto 285 „ . 

Jackals 288 Wells. 

St. John's, Newfoundland .... 289 Mrs. Simcoe. 

Talesalla Lathami 292 From Gould. 

Lcipoa Ocellata 293 „ 

Messrs. Smith and Co/* Distillery . . 29 T B.Sly. 

«;roiti-Tnill and Meal "kicks .... 'J'.'S ,, 



EKORAVXRS. 

S. Sly. 

Jackson. 

Murdon. 

Jackson. 

Wraag. 

Smyth. 

Murdon. 

Holloway. 

Andrew." 

S»-ar*. 

Andrew. 

Mogridge. 

Murdon. 

Smyth. 

Hollowav. 

Withy. * 

Jackson. 

Walmsley. 

Andrew. 

M. Hampton. 

Kirch ner. 

Andrew. 

Slader. 

Holloway. 

Jackson.* 

Murdon. 

Jackson. 

F. Smyth. 
Slader. 
Jackson. 
M. Hampton. 

Jackson. 



Holloway. 
Sears. 

H. Sears. 

Knight. 

Crowe. 



Dubois. 
Jackson. 



Wragg. 

Jackson. 

Wragg. 

Jackson. 

Holloway. 

C. Smith: 

Jackson. 

Knight. 

Murdon. 

Slader. 

Leonard. 

Harding. 

Crowe. 

Knight. 

Harding. 

Crowe. 

Whimper. 

Jackson. 

Andrew. 

M- Hampton. 

Whimper. 

Jack si in. 

Sly. 

Andrew. 

Welch. 

Williams. 

Welch. 



M. Hampton. 

S. Sly. 



T.Williams. 
Whimper. 
S. Sly. 
J. Jaekson. 
A. J. Mason. 

Sear*. 

S Slv. 



SUBJECT. PAO.1. Di £BO»01* 

Cooling floor 299 B. Si « l '», A ? 

Mash-tun 300 „ &» la S 

Wash-still £01 „ 195* J 

Pipes at the Worm-end 802 „ Sound. 

Old and Young Courtier. No. 8. . . 305 R. W. I Affgb an * 

Kenilworth Castle in 1620 .... 308 Grouse. AS*** 11 ' 

Mound-raising Megapode 812 B.Sly. Ai*. V**? 

Tlie Black Prince presenting his Banner **?%„ 

to Sir John Chandos 313 W. HarvsjArab 1° 

The Perch 3l6 Anelay. Atmo 8 \>> 

Lodge at Dropmore 321 Tiffin. an "*\, 

Jellalabad 324 C. Graham >**??£ 

Roman Peasantry 329 From Pinelli. ??£. 

ViewofCassiobury 333 Tiffin. li *'{ 

Drying-room in Floor-cloth Manufactory 337 Fairholt. i»w\ . 

Trowel-painting '.341 ,, Leonard. 

The origiual Floor-cloth printing-block. 342 „ Roe. 

Blocks to produce one Pattern . . . 343 „ L. Jewitt. 

Cushions 344 ,, Wragg. 

Man in the Act of Printing .... 344 „ Crowe. 

Interior of a Kamtchadale Dwelling . 345 Webber. Andrew. 

Swiss Cottage at Cassiobury .... 348 Tiffin. Jackson. 

Interior of ditto 349 „ ., 

Death of the • Squire ' 353 Harvev. „ 

Flower-Boat 356 Graham. Whimper. 

Sanpan / 356 „ M 

Accommodation Barge 357 Westall. Sly. 

('hop-Boat 357 Graham. Whimper. 

Fortress near Peshawur i-6l ,, Jackson. 

Coventry Pageants 365 Harvev. „ 

Tlie Grey Mullet 3u9 Anelay. Holloway. 

Now Abbey 372 Perring. Masuu. 

Roan-binding Shop, at Messrs. Wcrtley 

and Clark's 377 Shepherd. Sears. 

Sewing-Press 379 Timbrill. Leonard. 

RouudingtheBackofaBook ... 380 „ Wragg. 

Board-cutting Machine 381 B. Sly. Crowe. 

Cloth-embossing Machine .... 383 , f Wragg. 

Embossing-Press 384 „ Sears. 

* Extra-Finisher' at work 384 Timbrill. „ 

Edward III. and the Countess of Salis- 
bury 385 Harvev. Jackson. 

The Maple 3S8 Sly. ' Slv. 

I&lian Women at the Fountain . . . ^93 Pinelli. M. Hamrl : 

Kingston. Canada 396 Mrs. Simcoe. Sly. 

The Bonnet Monkey 400 Harvey. Jackson. 

The Irish Cloak— Peaamt of Cork . . 401 „ H. Clarke. 

The Bell tower. Evesham Abbey . . 404 „ Jackson. 

The Parish Churches, Evesham ... 405 „ „ 

The Birch 409 Timbrill. Sly. 

Mansion at Moor Park 413 Tiffin. Jackson. 

Antique Chair at Moor Park ... 414 ,, „ 

Wolsey's Saddle at Moor Park ... 414 
Philip Arteveld addressing the People of 

Ghent 417 Harvej ,, 

View from the Italian Garden at Moor 

Park 420 Tiffin. 

Sending-out Warehouse at Beaufby's 

Vinegar-Factory " . 425 Shepherd. Wragg. 

Upper part of the Copper or Boiler . . 4*7 „ ,. 

Underback and Refrigerator .... 428 „ Leonard. 

Vinegar-Field— Drawing off .... 429 „ „ 

Ditto-Filling-in 429 „ Crowe. 

Wine-manufacture— Fruit-press . . . 432 „ ' „ 

Irish Beggars 433 Harvey. H. Clarke. 

Roach and Dace 436 Timbnll. Holloway. 

Froissart and Sir Espaing de Lyon . .441 Harvey. Jackson. 

Cathedral of Cologne 444 Dutton*. Quartley. 

The Glastonbury Thorn 449 Freeman. Jewitt. 

Convents of the "Meteor" Monks . . 453 Tiffin. Jackson. 

Froissart reading to the Count de Foix 457 Harvey. „ 
Wert Front of Cologne Cathedral, as it 

is intended to be completed . • . 460 Dutton. Murdon. 

Strand-registering Machine .... 465 Fairholt. Holloway. 

Anal) sis of a Rope 467 „ "Wragg. 

Spinning a Rope 467 „ Crowe. 

' Laying ' or making a Rope .... 469 „ Sears. 

Flat-rope making 470 „ J^eonard. 

Yarn dressing and Beaming Machine . 472 „ Wragg. 

Irish Girl riding to Market .... 473 Harvev. H. Clarke 

The Char 476 Timbrill. Holloway. 

Froissart presenting his Book to Richard II. 481 Harvev. Jackson. 

The Ash 484 Fairholt. Leonard. 

Vale of Wyoming „ 489 Shepherd. Sears. 

Coronation of Henrv IV 493 Harvey. Jackson* 

•Irish Girls carrying 'Water .... 497 ' „ H. Clark.-. 

Hong-Kong 500 Graham. Whimper. 

Weslevan Theological Institute ... 505 Dutton. Jewitt. 

Wilton Church 506 B. Sly. Murdon. 

Christchurcli, Westminster .... 507 „ Leonard. 

County Courts. Cambridge .... 508 „ Holloway 
Packing Warehouse, Day and Martin's 

Blacking Factory 509 Dutton. Sears. 

Shoe-black 510 Fairholt. Sly. 

Filling 513 Standfast. I»eonard. 

Sealing 514 „ Crowe. 

LaiwUins 515 „ Murdon. 

Packing Pnste-blacking 5lG „ Sears 



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[View of 3ottoa Bay, from Winter** Hill,— From a Drawing taken on the Spot.] 



PORT LINCOLN, SOUTH AUSTRALIA. 

Tax town of Port Lincoln is an offshoot of one of the 
youngest of onr 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 1st 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 20,000?. a year : it is not, however, 
our intention to rive 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 Buy. It 
comprises an area of about fifty square miles at the 
bead of Spencer's Gulf, the coast here forming the base 
of an equilateral triangle about two hundred miles in 

no. 626. 



extent, and the town of Port Lincoln being situated 
near the apex of the peninsula. 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 southern 
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. Early in 1839, a gentleman 
whose judgment in the selection of land was highly 
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 

Vol. XL— B 



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his judgment ; and when he returned, he found that 
they had anticipated him in the demand of a special 
survey for the particular district which he had visited, 
and he had therefore 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, streets, &c„ the main 
thoroughfares being a nundred 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. Generally speaking, the settler in a new coun- 
try is glad at first to obtain the shelter of a log-house. 
Tne population of Port Lincoln, in May, 1840, was about 
270 ; but it has no doubt since increased in an equal 
proportion 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 is, 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 the 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 good nautical reasons for its 
claims as the best shipping-port for oil to Europe for 
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 ot 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 animal* 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 



with the ardour that distinguishes the hopefulness of 
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 proportion 
to its population the colony of New South Wales has a 
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 ot the 'divi- 
sion of labour/ of which the advantages are so well 
known in our own day. 

The doctrine here alluded 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 degrees of ability, in 
order that no one of the persons employed should ex- 
pend his time and attention on matters beneath his 
powers. Smith states that •• the greatest improvement 
in the productive powers of labour, and tne 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 three 
different ways : first, by reducing every man's business 
to some one kind of operation, the division of laboui 
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 numeious 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 application in manufactures 
(for wnich 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. 



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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 tne 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 
bead 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 nim to see the conclusion of the great 
work. While occupied with anxious thoughts as to 
the mode in which he might execute his gigantic task, 
be chanced to see in a booksellers 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 or applying the same prin- 
ciple to calculations. He was about that time lectur- 
ing at l'Ecole Poly technique, 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 davs 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 I 
bad 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 sets 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, 



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 formulae 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- 
plicity, so as to be clearly understood by the humbler 
labourers 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 done by 
the third section. The second section may perhaps be 
likened to master-builders, who put the architects' 
plans into a form fit to be understood and worked out 
by the workmen. 

The third section consisted of nearly a hundred in- 
dividuals, who were divided into two parts, meeting 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, produced 
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 were 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 formula and the mode of using 
the tables ; an extensive table of sine* 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 
places ; 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 ; and the great 

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tables are still confined, in manuscript, to the library 
of the Paris Observatory. A writer in the ' Edinburgh 
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, yv e 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. 

This 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 
piers that we see, one at each extremity of the court 
before 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 



royal cause, but is suddenly overpowered, 
Tower, and is executed not long after 



arms in the ro; 

sent to the 

Charles himself, with but little sympathy from any 

auarter. During one of the periods of his adhesion to 
le parliamentary cause, Holland House became the 
scene of an important meeting. When the Pretby 
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 ^ive 
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. Alter a pause, 
the youth said, " Dear sir, you sent for me, I believe* 
* 'Pictorial England,' vol. iii, p. 370. 



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5 



and I hope you have some commands ; I shall hold 
them most sacred." Addison grasped his hand, and 
said in a low tone " See in what peace a Christian can 



die." Besides the portrait in the mansion, a lane 
hounding it to the east, called Addison Road, calls to our 
memories this illustrious inmate of Holland House. 



[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 crandson, 
Charles James, was spent here, and in his decline many 
a fond remembrance of the place lingered about the 
peat statesman's heart. On nis 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 in a 
most appropriate place, of him whose features it pie- 
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, 
including 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 
distinguished 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 years ago apos- 
trophised by a poet in tender and graceful 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 ; 

lliy walks and airy prospects charm no more $ 

No more the summer in thy glooms allay'd, 

Thine evening breeses, 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 ; Qie avenue and the terrace, the busts 



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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 
portraits in which were preserved the features of the 
test and wisest Englishmen of two generations They 
will recollect how many men who have guided the 
politics of Europe — who have moved great assemblies 
by reason and eloquence— who have put life into 
bronze and canvas, or who have left to posterity things 
so 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 wnich 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 princely 
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 temper 
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 
gave additional value to every talent and acquirement. 
They will remember too, that he whose name they hold 
in reverence was not less distinguished by tne in- 
flexible uprightness of his political conduct than by 
his loving disposition and winning manners. They will 
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 having 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 
canton 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 tne case, may be deemed rather remote. As 
early as 1260 a fulling-mill and a bleaching establish- 
ment existed in the town of St. Gall ; and by 1308 their 
number was trebled. About the year 1450, a certain 



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- 
pear 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 America 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 between 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 Experts, 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 
several 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 
Appenzell took advantage of the circumstance to esta- 
blish new bleaching-factories, dye-houses, dressing ma- 
chines, and calico-printing machines. One of the ma- 
nufacturers invented a way of weaving a shirt without 
a seam ; 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 at a 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 yarn ; 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 from time to time introduced, pro- 
ducing those results which always follow such improve- 
ments, viz. a reverse of fortune to those manufac- 
turers who either cannot or will not bend to the new 



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

It 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 rapidly 
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 fondness for individual liberty, 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- 
ments, 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. This class 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 classes in 
other countries. They breakfast upon coffee and milk, 
butter, honey, or green cheese called Schabziger. Their 
dinner is composed of soup and bouiili, or a dish of 
some floury or mealy ingredient, potatoes, or porridge. 
Their beverage is cider or milk. Many of them sup 
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 riche3 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 to the weaver. The latter makes it into 
cloth, and returns it to the owner, receiving so much 
per yard, per piece, or per handkerchief, as the price of 
his 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 
farmer as well as a weaver, employing his leisure time 
in cultivating his ground and raising food for himself 
and 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 greatly 
assisted in the canton by the system of mortgage which 
exists : it is very easy to borrow money upon mort- 
gage, and by that means to purchase for two or three 
hundred florins property amounting to ten times the 
*uue, This arrangement has the disadvantage of 



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 effect 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 inns 
but on the days which are appointed for popular 
amusement, or by accident on a inarket-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 merely 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 appreciated among them, they are 
much poorer than tne 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 exceea 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 Are, and to 
warm themselves in the same apartment with the 
family: they also assist the farmer in his out- door 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. Tney 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 very 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 enough 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 

Serson takes a certain part, so that a piece of embroi- 
ery, 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. 



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



THE KAHAU. 



Thk Kahau (Semrwpithecus Larvaius) is, in many 
respects, the most singular and anomalous species, not 
only of the present genus, hut even of the entire family 
of Sim ice. 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 Horsfleld to describe 
the sexes as different species. 

The entire height of this animal, when standing up- 
right, exceeds three feet six inches ; the length of tne 
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 separated 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 broad 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 Wurmfc informs us exist in this species as well 
as in the orangs, and which are rqiroduced in the 
siamang and otners of the true apes. But the most 
extraordinary and anomalous trait in the pbysiog- 
nomy of the kahau is the enormous and dispropor- 
tioned size of the nose, which has a most ludicrous 
appearance 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 Simiae, but even more pro- 
minent than in man, and prolonged beyond the mouth 
in such a manner as to form a kind of small proboscis, 
a resemblance which has even procured it the name of 
the proboscis-monkey from some naturalists. 

The body of the kanau is covered with hair of a red- 
dish brown ot 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 or puggish form, 



scarcely surpassing the mouth in length, whereas 
it has rather a drooping aspect in the males, and is 
very considerably prolonged beyond the upper lip. 

This 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 h into b, 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 It 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 ot different sizes; 
some are even seen which do not exceed a foot 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 
is a sac beneath the skin of the neck, which extends 
from the lower jaw to the clavicles. 



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It is not often that we are so fortunate as to obtain the 
facts of genuine history with the interest that belongs 
to romance,— that we are able, centuries after the 
period in which ihe 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 ; yet 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 causeB of events ; no writers 



ot his period were : neither is he a moralist testing aL 
things by the simplest and most unchanging rules ot 
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 ot 
the warfare, the supertitious credulity of the religion, 
and the poetical sentimentality of the love, of the four- 
teenth century, are described by him in such vivid, 
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 so interestingly, in all its essential features* 



no. 627. 



Vol. XL— C 

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[January 8, 



by a single man. Such is a brief view 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 whicn 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 he 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 early part of his 
life 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 methought I had the art well to win their grace." 
No doubt 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 
44 fair companions." 

In a still more piquante passage, he says, " I took 
great pleasure in drinking, and in fair array, and in 
delicate an^d fresh cates. I love to see (as is reason) 
the early 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 Rochellc 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 master, 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 
open 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 board, 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, which is continually referred to in his 
poetry. In one of his poems he describes himself as 
railed 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- 



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 
4 Baillou d'Amours,' in which, on opening it, she found 
a ballad that spake but too plainly Froissait'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 
depai^d for England, making rondeaus and verses aU 
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 
mistress'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, 
M'hich 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 ot David II., 
or to the scarcely less regal palace of Dalkeith, where 
he was entertained by William, earl 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, accompanied 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 
does 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 III., 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 groatly 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- bardie' (a species of 
tunic), with a purse of twenty florins of gold in one ol 
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 ol 
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 case and a common; 
howbeit it was right piteous for the king, his children, 
and all his realm ; for the good queen 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 people, and natu- 
rally loved always the nation of Hainauit, 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 ladyc, when she knew and perceived there 

* In Gascon/, now in the department of Dei Landes, 



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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 
prace, 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 otner. 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 tnat it may please 
you to take no other sepulture, whensoever it shall 
please God to call you out of this transitory life, but 
beside 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 passage 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 
Scotch 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 among 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 poetry ; 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 Biois, became Froissart's next 
patron, and subsequently, it is supposed, bestowed on 
turn the canon ry and treasurership of the Collegiate 
Church of Chhnay. A pastoral and epithalamium 
written on the occasion of a marriage in the count's 
family, remains as a record of this period. The date 
of Froissart's death is unknown, but in all probability 
it took place soon after the time at which nis 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 4 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 
1 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 ill endure. 
He there represents himself as a man of much expense. 
We learn also from it, that the collections for his work 



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 and VOICE-CONDUCTORS. 

The assistance which the ear derives in the perception 
of sounds, by the use of a tube or hollow body, appears 
to have been known in most countries from a very 
early period ; although the proper mode of explaining 
it is the result of modern investigation, or, indeed, is 
not even yet settled. 

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 who is dull of hearing ; whereas the speaking- 
trumpet is not intended for persons of dull hearing or 
speech, 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 a tube. 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 galleries, 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 his palace, 

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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; hut the excavations in question, of 
which the grotto forms a part, were occasioned by the 
digging for the stones ot 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 
a number of women, each of whom carried a small 
basket of provisions. After presenting his thanks for 
the welcome supply, he expressed surprise how they 
came all to be moved, as if by mutual agreement, with 
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 con vent. The superior 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 termB 
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 possessed this stentorophonic art ; 
for we may observe tnat 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 attention was paid 
to speaking-trumpets, with a view to determine the 
best principles ot construction. In Kircher's ' Mu- 
surgia,' printed in 1650, he describes how a funnel can 
ho 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 ne 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 his apartment 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 Ebersdorff to Neugeben. 



About the same time an Englishman, Sir Samuel 
Morland, took up the same subject, and proposed as a 
question 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 
greater width. The first which he describes was rather 
less than three feet in length, and made of glass. 
Another was made of brass, about four feet and a halt 
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 park 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 
Mall (though the wind was contrary), which is eight 
hundred and fifty vards, or near one half of a measured 
English mile. Morland 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. Qtfier 
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 trie voice ; rough and in- 
formed, it is true, but with a 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, M we met with a group of wood-nymphs, the real 
Dryades and Oreadeg of these forests and mountains, 
wild as the daughters of Phoroneus and Hecate. They 
wore scarlet 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 feet 
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 lures, 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 ot 
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 
it is propagated to a greater distance in a straight line ; 
and the reflection or echoing of the sound from the sides 
of the instrument to its axis. As water rushes out 
more violently through a narrow pipe than through 
a large open channel, so 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 form of the tube ; but it appear 



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that in order to increase the actual intensity 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 cnannel, instead 
of diffusing its effects in the apartment where the 
speaker may happen to be : it is a simple case of con- 
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 lioman 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 ot a cylindrical tube in conveying sound to 



a great distance, simply 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 sounds emanating from different directions, 
and conveying them into the orifice of the ear.' In the 
speaking- trumpet, as distinguished from speaking- 
tubes, the augmentation of the intensity of the sound, 
by the peculiar form of the instrument, is the immediate 
object in view. 



[The Subterranean Cell in which St. Paul and St. Peter are said to have been confined.] 



THE M AMERTINE PRISON, ROME. 

During St. Paul's first imprisonment at Rome, he 
Mas 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. ii., v. 9, 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- 
gether confined in the M amertinc 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 
in a prison ; and, if so, we are induced to think the 
Mamertinc 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 earliest 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 Scalae Gem on ice, by which the 



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culprits were dragged to the prison, or out of it to 
execution. They consist of two apartments, one above 
the other, built with large uncementcd stones. There 
is no entrance, except by a small aperture in the upper 
roof, and by a 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 feet 
wide ; and the lower one, which is elliptical, measures 
twenty feet by ten. The height of the former is four- 
teen feet, 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 
cnapcl in front, is now dedicated to him ; and over it 
is the church of & Giuseppe de' Falegnami, built in 
1539. Dr. Burton says that a more horrible place for 
the confinement of a human being can scarcely 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.) 



THE SYSTEM OF TARTAR TRAVELLING 
IN TURKEY. 

The modes of travelling most prevalently adopted in 
any particular country furnish a useful 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 stage-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 Tatar 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 
general name for a horseman ; but be this as it may, 
the term Tatdr is applied throughout the Turkish 
empire to a horseman wlio acts as guide and companion 
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 
commercial enterprise, all conspire to bring about a 
state of things very different inaced 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 teskere, a simple passport ; the bigranti, 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 Tatar a3 travelling com- 
panion and protector, and he is much needed. Trie post- 
ing establishment of Turkey consists of a series of post- 
houses, placed at various distances apart from each 
oth'T, that is, from three to sixteen hours each stage, 
extending along most of the great lines of road through- 



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, so 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 Tat^r 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 halfpenny English) per Turkish hour of 
road for each norse. 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 Tat5r 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 services 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 Tata*r brings up the rear. 

Such is the general character 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 TatSr " is understood in Turkey to 
imply 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 fouryears 
ago, under the title of • A Winter's Journey (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 Tatar ; and the 
horsemen travelled night and day, in cold and wet, 
resting where they could find a ham or caravanserai, 
and journeying on when no such accommodation was 
at hand. Such a journey is called a * TatSr* 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. Bou6, who travelled through European Turkey 
about five years ago, has given some interesting de- 
tails respecting the Tatftr system. Of these courier 
companions he says, " They form a particular corpo- 
ration, which is much respected, and they are all in- 
scribed in a 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 Tatar ; but Dr. Boue, 
Tartar."] As they are thoroughly acquainted with 
European 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, arc always sober when on the road, and only 
intemperate when arrived at the end of their journey, 



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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 Tat&r as being 
curious and picturesque in the extreme ; all are, in- 
deed, dressed nearly in the same way. The dress, besides 
drawers, shirt, and vest, consists first of a jooba, 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 a thong or belt across his shoulder is 
suspended his despatch-box, of leather or velvet em- 
broided with silver. A rich jacket, called a kiurk, 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 shut tears, or riding-trowsers, arc an odd appen- 
dage. •• They consist, " says Mr. Fraser, " of a petti- 
coat of most prodigious dimensions, with the bottom 
sewed up, leaving two hole3 for 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 thorn is forced to hold up the 
slack of them as he walks. It is a curious thing to see 
the manner in which a Tatfir, 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 
efiect 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 ot enduring fatigue, not a little 
surprising. Mr. Fraser mentions an instance of this 
in tne case of a Tat&r whom he met with at Constanti- 
nople, and who had formerly served in that capacity 
under the British consul, 'When the news ot Na- 
poleon's escape from Elba became known at Constan- 
tinople, the British consul sent this Tatar to Deina- 
vend. a place about sixty miles beyond Teheran, 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 Tatar method. Dr. Bou6 states that those travel- 
lers who possess the passport called a. firman, and who 
are in virtue of it supplied with a Tatfir, 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. In 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 hans are 
often crowded with people, and as the traveller is 
obliged to cat 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 
or other (generally Christians, in the European pro- 



vinces of the empire) to receive the traveller, and to 
provide him with bed and board at a moderate charge. 
The teskereis a passport of a general kind, enabling 
the traveller to pass whither he may please ; but the 
firman specifies the object of the traveller, who thus 
at once gains the confidence of the Turks: for this 
jealous ]>eople are ill at ease unless they know the 
44 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. In 
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 TatSr's whip, for tnese men exercise a very 
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 Tautr of 1 urkey. 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. 



Pauing-BeU, — The word ' Passing,' as used here, signifies 
clearly the tame as " departing," that is, passing from life to 
death. So that even from the name we may gather 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 hell 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 cliarge of those who, in this instance, 
would seem to tax us with praying for the dead. Bourue consi- 
ders the custom as old at the use of bells themselres in Christian 
churches, i.e. about the seventh century. Bede, in his * Ecclesias- 
tical History,' sneaking of the death of the abbess of St. Hilda, tells 
us that one of the sisters of a distaut monastery, as she was sleep- 
ing, thought she heard the well-known souud of that bell which 
called them to prayers when any of them had departed this 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 person's dejiarture, that good 
men might give him their prayers, adding, that if they do no 
good to the dejtai ting sinner, they at least evince the disinterested 
charity of the person that prefers them. I cannot agree with 
Bourne in thinking that the ceremony of tolling, a hell on thi* 
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 people may put up their 
prayers ; twice for a woman and thrice for a man : if for a clergy- 
man, as many times as he had orders; and at the conclusion a 
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 must 
be rung while the corpse is conducted to church, and during the 
briugiug it out of the church to the grave." This seems to ac- 
count for a custom still preserved in the north of England, or 
making numeral distinctions at the conclusion of this cere- 
mony ; i.e. nine knells for a man, six for a woman, and three for a 
child, which are undoubtedly the vestiges of this ancient injunc- 
tion of popery. — Brandt Popular Antiquities ; new edition by 
Sir H. Ella. 



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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 whicli 
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 ; aud as the tops of all of them were nearly 
upon the same level, that of the surrounding country must at 
one period 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 
I heard beneath me, soon put an end to the state of perplexity in 
which I 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 small 
stream, which in the rainy season must become a perfect torrent. 
It was uow 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 scries of caverns resem- 
bling those of which they once formed a portion, would be 
swept out into the ocean and deposited on sand-banks, to be 
raised again, at some remote epoch, a 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 
mountain-streams to be, that they rose at the foot of some little 
elevation, which stood upon a lofty table-land composed of 
sandstone, 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 influences, and did not again re- 
appear until they had reached the foot of the precipice which 
terminated the table-land whence they sprang : nere they came 
foaming out in a rapid stream, which had undoubtedly worked 
strange 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 existence of numerous and extensive sand- 
hanks all along the coast. One single heary tropical shower of 
only a few hours' duration washed down, over a plot of ground 
winch was planted with barley, a bed of sand nearly five inches 
deep ; which the succeeding showers again swept off*, carrying it 
farther upon its way towards the sea. — Grey's Journals of his 
Expeditions 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 
les3 subjected 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 
such a manner that, arrived where a cataract opposes obstacles 
to farther progress, it may be unloaded and carried over land. 

Tiie canoe is flat on the bow and stem ; and in order to 

prevent the water from getting into it, two pieces of wood cut 
•according to its 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 coutact with sunken rocks, or 



when drawn over cataracts. The pakasse, or wood-skin, is a boat 
merely constructed of the bark of a tree. It is generally made 
of a single piece of the tough bark of the murianara tree, whieh 
grows to a very large size. An incision of the length the beat is 
to possess is 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 tnose parts of the intended boat. 
Vertical incisions, at about two feet apart and a few inches in 
depth, are then made, and the parts 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, renders it liable to upset, I have 
seen pakasses among the Tarumas, in the Cuyuwini, with five or 
six Indians in them. Their great advantage is, 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 upset, they 
sink almost instantly, owing to the great specific gravity of the 
peculiar bark of which they are built. — Schomburgks Fishes of 
Guiana, 



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 ; he at length con- 
ceived and adopted the following plan : — He set up in the pasture 
a narrow board for a target, or, as boys would call it, a mark, 
aud 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 pn>i>er instrumentality ; the conversion, by means of 
a little knowledge of human nature, of that which would have 
otherwise been dull and fatiguing labour, into a most animating 
sport, giving pleasure to twenty instead of tedious labour 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 hands simultaneously under the chin, and making 
the stroke outward iu 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 a 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 under, forming a sort of bucket, 
to act most effectively as it passes in its turn underneath him. 
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 
upon the breast and spine are avoided, and that a man will pre- 
serve his 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. — Cat tin's Letters on the North American 
Indians, 

Burial m Asia Minor. — The outward marcs 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 earthenware, 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 tue dead. The custom of hiring women 
to mourn with cries and howlings, is also retained by tlte modem 
Greeks at their funerals. — FeUows's Asia Minor. 



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[Scotch Firs (Ptnua Sj/lvestrif).-—From a drawing by W. Martiu.] 



THE SCOTCH FIR. 

What is called English scenery derives much of its 
peculiar beauty and character from the noble and 
stately trees by which it is adorned. The eye ranges 
with pleasure over verdant meadows and rests with 
delight upon the massive foliage of the oak and beech, 
the elm and chestnut, on which the lights and shadows 
arc reflected in such rich and varied colours. These 
trees especially are the appropriate embellishments of 
a landscape in which the hand of man is everywhere 
visible, and nature appears in her elegant rather than 
in her wilder and less cultivated forms. The chestnut, 
with it rich blossoms and luxuriant foliage, would 
seem as much out of place in a Scottish landscape, 
whose outline is marked by the blue heather and the 
bare mountains, as it is appropriate in an English park. 
The tree which of all others best combines with the 

no. 628. 



rugged scenery of the land of the mountain and the 
flood is the pine ; and it possesses the same sort of 
national character that the oak claims in England. A 
truly national poet, Sir Walter Scott, in the ' Lady of 
the Lake,' has dedicated one of his most spirited songs 
to its praise ; and our readers will not regret the re- 
production of two of the stanzas in this place :— 

" Highland Boat Song. 

" Hail to the Chief, who in triumph advances . 
Honour'd and bless'd be the ever-green Pine! 
Long may the Tree, in his banner that glance^ 
Flourish, the shelter and grace of our Hue! 
Heaven send it happy (lew, 
Earth lend it sap anew, 
Gaily to bourgeon and broadly to grow, 
While every Highland glen 
Sends our shout back agen, 
' Roderigh Vich Alpine dim, ho ! ieroe !' 

Vol. XL— D 



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" Our» is no sapling, chance-sown by the fountain, 
Blooming at Beltane, in winter to fade : 
When the whirlwind has stripp'd every leaf on the mountain, 
The more sliall Clan- Alpine exult iu his shade. 
Moor'd in the rifted rock, 
Proof to the tempest's shock, 
Firmer he roots him the ruder it blow ; 
Menteith and Breadalbane, then, 
Echo his praise agen, 
* Iioderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho ! ieroe !' " 

Those who have only been accustomed to see the 
Scotch 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 poet has been led away by the fervour of his pa- 
triotism. Thickly planted in a heavy clav soil, the 
Scotch pine vainly attempts to develop Us natural 
character. Seen under these disadvantages, it may not 
be undeserving of the stigma 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 lir, which in an evil hour was called Scotch, as now 
generally 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 altogether 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 Norway; and, 
when a plant, it maybe known from the spurious or 
common fir by the tufts of leaves being snorter and 
thicker, and by the colour being considerably darker. 
The appearance of the Highland fir, when planted in 
its appropriate situation amongst rocks and crags, is 
dignified 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 from the Highlands. The ordinary nr 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-looking tree, and pro- 
ducing wood of little comparative value, it has super- 
seded the natural plant ot the country, and is called, 
var excellence, the Scotch fir. Under that name it has 
Dcen used generally as a nurse, and so far must be ac- 
knowledged useful, that it submits 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 species, 
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 language 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 



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- 
turcsquencss] 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 ot the subject. 
Within a short distance of London there are some very 
fine specimens of the tree. Those at Ham House, near 
Richmond, are seventy feet high ; the trunk four feet 
in diameter, and the top eighty feet. The trees at 
Whitton, near Hounslow, are above a century old, from 
eighty to ninety feet in height, and standing singly, 
their forms arc very picturesque. There are also some 
fine trees atMuswell 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 part of Asia and 
America, there are many varieties produced by the dif- 
ference of soil and climate. The Pine of Haguenau, 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 
deteriorates, it loses its red hue and is almost white, 
containing little resin, and cannot safely be made use 
of for buildings which arc intended to last for many 
generations. But when grown in favourable situations 
its value as timber is only inferior to the oak, and it is 
more easily worked. It is used by the shipwright as 
well as in the building of houses. A specimen at 
Gordon Castle in Scotland, one hundred feet 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 turnirlg 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 centuries, 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 arc of a lighter colour than the old leaves, 
which are retained between four and five years. M r. 
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 fourteen 
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 shoot of from one to three feel." 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 8 * Svlva,' of a Scotch pine which grew to 
a height or sixty feet in little more than twenty years. 



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Rev. Dr. Alim Clarke* Experiment* in the Cultivation of 
Wheat. — It was truly and wisely said, that he who makes two 
blades of gra« grow where one only grew before, is a real bene- 
factor to mankind. If this assertion will hold good as respects 
the food of beasts, it will surely not fail in regard to the food of 
men. The detail of Dr. Clarke's experiment shows the amazing 
production of two grains of wheat, 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 comnared 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 proGt, though we liave 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 five hundred and seventy- 
four distinct plants, or two hundred and 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 hundred plants, and the 
second grain into nine hundred and sixteen. These, he informs 
us, he agaiu planted in rows, in a field alongside of other wheat 
sown iu the common way, setting the plants four inches asunder, 
and about ten inches between the row*. This 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, 
M 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 and six inches 
long, and 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 potent in 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 
a sufficiency to sow all the cultivated surface of the Continent 
and islands of this fourth part of the globe." Dr. Clarke finally 
suggests that the Irish, who were at the time of his writing in a 
starving condition, and whose wants were supplied by liberal 
sulwcriptions, would be more effectually relieved by giving 
them same employment that woultl be the most likely to be 
beneficial to themselves, and ultimately to the interest of the 
nation. This theory of the Doctor'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 ears, 
by compulation, 576,840 grains. We ought 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 netting 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 nothing to support the stalks or to 
protect the grain from the birds. It should also be stated, that 
the Doctor's experiment was made in Lancashire, which is much 
colder thau 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 in 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 fronts and cutting 
winds of the tarly spring, and the crop would have more time 
to ripen, and would be much earlier fit for reaping. — From a 
Correspondent. 

Difference* of East Indian Population. — Tlie greatest difference 
is between the inhabitants of Hindostan Proper and of the Deckan. 
The neighbouring parts of these two great divisions naturally 
resemble each other ; but iu the extremities of the north and 
south the languages have no resemblance, except from a common 
mixture of Sliamcrit ; the religious 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 north 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 unknown in 
Hindostan as in England. Many of the points of difference arise 
from the unequal degrees in which the two tracts were con- 
quered and occupied : first, by the people professing the Bra- 
minical religion, and afterwards by the Mussulmans ; but more 
must depend on peculiarities of place and climate, and perliaps 
on varieties of race. Bengal and Gamgetic Hindostan, for in- 
stance, are contiguous countries, and were both early subjected 
to the same governments; but Bengal is moist, liable to 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 com- 
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 Hindostanis on the 
Ganges are the tallest, fairest, and most warlike and manly of 
the Indians ; they wear the turban, and a dress resembling that 
of the Mahometans; their houses are tiled and built iu compact 
villages in open tracts ; their food is unleavened wheaten bread. 
The Bengalese, on the contrary, though good-looking, are small, 
black, and effeminate in appearance ; remarkable for timidity and 
superstition, as well as for subtlety and art. Their villages are 
composed of thatched cottages, scattered through woods of bam- 
b#os or of palms ; their dress is the old Hindu one, formed by 
one scarf round the middle and another thrown over the shoul- 
ders. They have the practice, unknown in Hindostan, of rub- 
bing their limbs with oil after bathing, which gives their skins a 
sleek and glossy appearance, and protects them from the effect 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 each 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 and 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 perceiving the change that had taken place.— Elphin- 
s tone's Hi it. of India. 

Milk a* an Article of Diet. — For those who have healthy and 
unsophisticated stomachs, milk appears to l>e 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 diet. But the 
stomach is a creature of habit. It can become accustomed to 
any kind of diet ; and sudden changes are liable to derange ifs 
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 to a milk diet, which 
contains a considerably lowered stimulation, would probably be 
an imprudent cliange. When necessary, the change should be 
so gradual that the stomach should by degrees become accom- 
modated to it — Beaumont'* Experiment* on tlie Gastric Juice % 
8fc. y by Dr. Combe. 

U*e of Gor*e, or Furze.— In the neighbourhood of Binning 
ham there are several large dairy establishments in which gorse 
is used as an article of food. There is a small steam-engine 
attached to each, by which the gorse is crushed to a pulp, and in 
that state it is given to cows, which soon become very fond of it. 
A friend of miue feeds his plough horses almost entirely on this 
food, and they both look and work remarkably well.— Cu re- 
spondent. ^ ^ 



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f January 15, 



[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 truly, 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 Campa^na, 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, indeed, upon 
his etchings, which are very far from being numerous, 
that his reputation as an artist depends. For spirit and 
beauty of drawing 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. 
Pinelli died at Rome about three years a^o, we believe. 
[f 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 4 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 about 
himself or any one else ; and we should doubt, from 
the slight personal knowledge we had of him, whelher 
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 it is for many miles what the Italians 
call a Maremma, or fen-country, thickly wooded, 
swampy, and in summer time pestiferous— only fit to be 
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 
is a mountainous country, as thinly inhabited as the 
Campagna and the Pontine Marshes ; the Apennines, 
whicn 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 country as wild and as 
picturesque as the wildest parts of Wales or the high- 
lands 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 tnat wolves are very abundant, and bears 



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by no means unknown. In the enormous mass called 
• The Grand Rock of Italy' (II Gran Sassod Italia), in 
Monte Maijello, and in the mountains that rise about the 
town of Aquila and the passes of Antrodoco and Taglia- 
c.ozzo, there are recesses where 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 
people of the Marshes and the Campagna had little to 
fear, and were at times benefited by the greater and 
bolder bands of robbers, who thus acquired that dan- 
gerous sort of consideration once enjoyed in England 
by Robin Hood, who was said to rob the rich in order 
to feed 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 was in 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 delta Campagna, or * king of 
the open country,' and who asserted This 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 popes 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 hiin. 
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- 
cation and superior condition, flying from tne tyranny 
of the Spaniards, joined the robber-chief. At one time 
two armies were sent against him, one by the viceroy 
from the side of Naples, and one by Pope Sixtus VI. 
from the side of Rome ; but, assisted and well-informed 



of every movement by the peasantry on either side, 
Marco foiled them both, cut a detachment of Spanish 
troops to pieces 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 
manoeuvring 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, Marco 
Sciarra's band must have been more than a thousanc 
strong. He was so completely lord of 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 
foe 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 immense 
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 been 
made to him by the Venetians. With part of his band 
he gained the shore of the Adriatic, ana 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 king 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. In 
going to one of these visits he was cut off. 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, in embracing 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. 



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[January 15, 



Dr. RADCLIFFE AND THE RADCLIFFE 
LIBRARY. 

John Radcliffe, the founder of the library, was in 
every respect a most remarkable man. In an age of 
professional pedantry, he wholly threw off its trammels; 
though a lover of money, he knew how to be generous, 
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, Jamc3 II., 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 nave 
ever disabled him from the active duties of his profes- 
sion, though they may have shortened his life, and he 
himself, 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 been, in a great measure, an abettor and 
encourager of your intemperance, and would therefore 
in these his last moments, when he is most to be 
credited, dehort you from the pursuit of it ; and that in 
these the days ot your youth (for you have yet many 
years to live, if you do not hasten your own death) you 
would give car to the voice of the preacher, whom you 
and I, with the rest of our company, have, in the mid3t 
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 youth, and walk in the ways of 
thy heart, and in the signt 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 
life, reap the fruits of our sorrows for our misdeeds, in 
a blessed resurrection.'* 

The events in the life of RadclifTe were, like those of 
mo3t men of scientific pursuits, but few and unimport- 
ant. He was born, in 1050, at Wakefield in Yorkshire, 
of respectable parents, and educated in the grammar- 
sohool 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 seems at once to have been directed to the more 
{wactical parts of his art, and while he attended all the 
ectures on anatomy, chemistry, and botany, his read- 
ing seems to have been but small ; Dr. Bathurst, the 
president of Trinity College, once asking to see his 
library, 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 
Oxford, he removed, in 1034, 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 Princcs3 Anne, in 1086, and after the Revolu- 
tion, after having performed two remarkable cures on 
MM. Bentinck and Zulenstein (afterwards Lords Ben- 
tinck and Rochford), he was offered that of physician 
to William III. This office, however, he declined, but 
continued to attend the king in cases of illness. The 
following anecdote will give a good illustration of the 
Doctors manner, and of the freedom which he exer- 
cised. In 16J7 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- 



tranged version of * .flilsop's Fables/ His majesty then 
informed him that he had again a 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 turn to a 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. " I 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 mc." " Why this 
is all as it should be," says the physician : " it shows a 
mighty strength of nature." And then he conies over 
him tne third time, with the same questions again. 
'• Why, I am all swelled/' says the other, ** as if I had 
the dropsy.*' " Best of all, quoth the doctor, and 
goes his way. Soon after this comes one of the sick 
man's friends to him with the same question, " How 
he felt himself?" "Why, truly," says he, "so well 
that I am even ready to die 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 arc 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 part 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), 1 11 try what can be 
done to make you live easily, though I cannot venture 
to say I can make you live longer than I have told 
you ; and so left a recipe behind him, which was so 
happy in its eflects as to enable the king 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.* His intercourse with the celebrated 
Prince Eugene of Savoy is also characteristic. " The 
Chevalier tie Soissons, his highness's nephew, in a 
nightly encounter with the watch, was so bruised that 
he was thrown into a violent fever, which was ialsely 
said to terminate in the small-pox, to cover the re- 
proach of such an unprincely disaster. Hereupon Dr. 
Radcliffe 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 be 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, jiggets 
(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, 
ami to Ingram's ' Memorials of Oxford/ we are indebted for 
most of the materials of this notice. 



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several of the nobility, who were perfect strangers to 
whole joints of butcher's meat, made light of his enter- 
tainment. But the prince, upon taking, his leave of 
hiir., said, in French, 4 Doctor, I have been fed at other 
tables like a courtier, but received at yours as a foI- 
dier, for which I am highly indebted to you, since I 
must tell you that I am more ambitious of being called 
by the latter appellation than the former. Nor can I 
wonder at the bravery of the British nation that lias 
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 
preclude giving specimens of his caustic wit and 
humour, and we must therefore content ourselves with 
a single instance. Sir Godfrey Kneller lived in the 
bouse adjoining that of RadclhTe, and had permitted 
the latter to open a door into his garden; but the 
doctors servants having injured some of Sir Godfrey's 
hortulanary curiosities, he sent word by a servant to 
Radcliffe, that unless this was put a stop to, he should 
be obliged to brick up the door. The doctor, choleric 
by nature, replied " that Sir Godfrey might do what he 
pleased with the door, so that he did not paint it." 
Hereupon the footman, 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. RadclhTe say 
so ?" 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 
buih 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 ofTer 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 
equipage 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 youtli and beauty." In the course of the essay 
he gives the following no doubt popular estimate of 
RadclHFe's character as a physician : — " You are not so 
ignorant as to be a stranger to the character of Escu- 
lapiu3, as the patron and most successful of all 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 troubled himself with the doctrine of 
drugs, but has always given nature more room to help 
hei^elf 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 1st of November, 1714 ; but 
his end was embittered, if not hastened, by the unpo- 
pularity and hatred which assailed him on the death 
* of Queen Anne. Some years before, the doctor had 
, heen dismissed from his office of physician to the 
; jueen, in consequence of his negligence and rudeness 
m not attending when sent for, saying, " Nothing ailed 
her but the vapours." But in her last illness it was 
asserted he bad been again sent for, and refused to 
▼mt 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 



hours before the queen s death, Lady Masham had 
sent an unofficial message to him, requiring his pre- 
sence, upon which be 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 from which we have previously 
quoted. His body lay in state at Carshalton, wheie 
he died, and was tnence removed to Oxford, where it 
was interred with great pomp in St. Mary s church. 

It only remains to ^ive some account of his posthu- 
mous benefactions, which were indeed most munificent, 
and for this we borrow from the • Penny Cyclopaedia.' 
After making a life provision for some of his relations, 
he bequeathed his whole fortune to public uses. 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 forty 
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. Accord- 
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- 
pleted in 1747, and opened in a most solemn manner, on 
Thursday, April 13, 1749 ; when the Duke of Beaufort, 
on behalf of himself 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 them 
his Yorkshire estate in trust for the foundation of two 
Travelling Fellowships to be held 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 wnich time, at least, they are to travel in parts be- 
yond sea for their better improvement.*'* He also 
bequeathed the perpetual advowson of the rectory of 

* They are at present required to pass tbe firtt 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 Rati cli He'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 his scientific writings is Sir John Sibthorpe, the author 
of the ' Flora Graca/ and founder of the Professorship of Agri- 
cultural Botany. 



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Headboume Worthy, in Hampshire, to trustees for the 
benefit of University College for ever, so that a mem- 
ber of that society snould always be presented to it on 
every vacancy. He gave to the same 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. Radclifle, M.D.," hujus Collegii quondam 
Socius, a.d. mdclxxxvii.' 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 ihey 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 Peel, 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 • Radcliife Asylum.' In 1825 the 
trustees gave two thousand pounds towards building 
the present College of Physicians in London, and they 
have ever been found ready to contribute, according to 
their means, to every charitable and useful purpose. 



LaudabU Custom of Prqfettor Porton. — 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, lie always paid 
him the compliment of being acquainted with the subject, and 
saved him, if ignorant, from confusion, by translating it. How 
different this conduct on the part of a profound scholar, to tliat 
of the woul d - be r learned, 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-informed man will never argue 
for the sake of arguing, much less for the sake of victory, at the 
expense of truth and justice. Such a man is as willing to learn 
as ne is to teach. His object in conversation is not to confound, 
hut 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 1 

•ay to you of this wonderful rock 1 Nothing can exceed 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 odoriferous narcissus-polyanthus, 
and whole beds of lavender-flowers of the deepest purple and 
most aromatic fragrance? Every five yards you encounter beau- 
tiful shrubs, of which I know not even the names; and the broad 
rough stems 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 nine waves in 
gloomy majesty side by side with the light and feathery cork- 
tree. The atmosphere — it is indeed Paradise to breathe it ! All 
k fragrance, verdure, and bloom. The indescribably beautiful 
Almeyda, with its geranium hedges and gorgeous coloured 
flowers, occupies the broad esplanade at the base ; while the blue 
surface of the Mediterranean, backed by the solemn outline of 
the Granada and Barbary hills, finishes the picture. You have 
no idea what a nice, little, clean, pretty, bustling town Gibraltar 
is. The fortifications are a source of astonishment and delight to 
me. Their extent, size, and beauty must he seen to be appre- 



ciated. And as for the streets— there you behold a daily mas- 
querade of nations ! You are absolutely bewildered with tiie 
incessant variety of feature, complexion, and costume which yo. 
encounter at every step. The noble countenance of the Spaniard, 
shadowed by his black steeple-hat; the turbaned Moor, with l»ii 
clear olive cheek 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. — White* Fragments 



Darnel 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 was a tall, strong lad, of 
a very quiet disposition, not at all inclining to be jolly, hut pos- 
sessing a fine open countenance. Soon after the age of fourteen 
he began to thicken rapidly; like Milo with the calf, I hare 
often carried him upon my back, but not when he became an 
ox. He was very fond 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 
struggling to keep their heads above water, he would lie, like a 
whale, motionless upon the surface. During the summer 
months he never was so happy as when wallowing for hours in 
the river, rolling over and over like a hippopotamus ; and as his 
weight increased, this desire increased also. The great use be 
made of this luxury probably relaxed the skin, and tended to 
increase his bulk. Mr. Lambert was highly sensitive 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 upon me, I took him to see that Roman 
curiosity the Jewry wall, near St. Nicholas s church ; and as 
We were going to view the room where Richard 111. slept the 
night before the fight in Bosworth-field, we had occasion to pas 
Mr. Lambert s house. He was sitting at the door, and the mo- 
ment my friend caught a sight of him, iu 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 
Lambert followed the little doctor with his keen eye, and frowned 
upon him as he passed us, till he was out of sight. On rejoining 
the professor, I found him so filled with amazement, tliat the 
sights I had in store for him claimed none of his attention com- 
pared with what he had unexpectedly seen. The quantity of 
cloth required to make his clothes was immense. When be 
walked, there was a lightness in his step that was surprising ; he 
had a voice clear and agreeable, and sang with ease and 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 curiosity, and by the sale of these animals 
something was contributed 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 1 visited town, I called upon him 
as a friend, and soon discovered that he was distressed at my 
seeing 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 tliought 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 lbs.; 
but he had so much increased since that time, that his attendant 
told roe he probably could uot be less than 57 stones at the tisne 
of his decease. — Gardiner « Music and Friemie, 



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(GolmmitH— from the Portrait by Sir J. Keyaolds. Goldsmith's Mill at Auburn— from a picture painted by Creiwiek.] 



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 
War 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 bis feelings 
in varied situations, but his mind has projected itself 
into a wider sphere, from whence he acquired a know- 
ledge of and a power of depicting human character 

no. 629. 



tar 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 
a reader. 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 is Lissoy ; every spot 
and every person is identified ; and his beau-ideal of poli- 



Vol. XL— E 

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tical economy is the cottier system to which he had been 
accustomed. •• w here 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 Thoinhill 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 
and 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 is commonly 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 Fielding'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 family, 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 kindness of his wife's 
uncle, rector of West Kilkenny, whom he assisted in 
his duties. He had a family of seven children, ol 
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 rectory of Kilkenny West, 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 is 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 soldier's adventures and his 
tales of fairy-land, than porinjj 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 173J he was removed to a school of a higner class 
at Athlone, and thence, in 1741, to Edge worm'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. 



in June 11, 1745. Here he continued, with mutual 
dissatisfaction to himself and his tutors, till February, 
17*9, 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 
money raised to enable him to study tnc law, 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 
mucn apparently to his own satisfaction. Mr. Douglas 
Allport has made it pretty clear, we think, that he was 
usher to Dr. Milner, at Peck ham, about 1751, and not 
at an after-period, as has beeng enerally stated.* His 
evidence is from the diary of a gentleman who nad 
two sons at Dr. Milner's school, furnished by a lady, tho 
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, left Camber well 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 
erroneous, 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 frequently 
at the latter period, and there become acquainted witn 
Griffiths as is commonly stated. The house still 
exists at Peckhara, 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 

I daces he evinced his usual eccentricities, and his 
etters, from their style and subjects, show more atten- 
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 Italy; 
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 Geoige 
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 Yorkshiie. 
In London he renewed his acquaintance with the 
Milners, and probably by them was introduced to 
Griffiths, who engaged him as a writer in the * Monthly 
Review.' His engagement with Griffiths was lor 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 bave chiefly followed Mr. Prior, who has taken great pains 
to verify the dates, in his ' Life and Miscellaneous Works of 
Oliver Goldsmith/ London, 1837. 



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at the end of five months ; he next contributed to the 
4 Literary Magazine/ and thence commenced his lite- 
rary drudgery, whion 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. In 
1758 he endeavoured to procure a medical appoint- 
ment to India, but was rejected by the College ot Sur- 
geons for want of being sufficiently qualified. In 1759 
he wrote • An Inquiry into the present State of Polite 
Learning in Europe/ a clever work in thought, and 
pleasing in style, out incomplete in its information ; 
and he also contributed to the *Bee.' In 1760, in con- 
junction with Smollett and others, the * British Maga- 
zine' was undertaken, and in Newbery's paper, the 
4 Public Ledger,' he gave to the public liis ' 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 
December, 1764, appeared his '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 Cove nt- Garden, producing him probably 450/. In 
this vear 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 iemark 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- 
lage* appeared, and on August 15 the fifth was issued, a 
satisfactory proof that good 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 composition 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- 
Ton, and wrote his poem Cdljcd 'Retaliation;' and 
this, though he continued labouring to the end, was his 



last important work, he having died on the 4th of 
April, 1774, 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 arc 
narrated, but we have omitted tbem, 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. Boswell 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 less 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 himself; 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 led him to 
extravagancies of behaviour or expression, and his 
sympathies to imprudencies ; 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 leaving a blunder, a mis- 
conception, or a paradox to be sported with, to either 
explaining or defending 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 (though Boswell laughs at some of them be- 
cause opposed to those of Johnson), which he leaves at 
once to their fate, or to the voluntary support of others, 
frequently of Johnson himself. We can well imagine 
the quiet glee he enjoyed at witnessing Johnson, while 
talking for 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 
so in the case ot 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 himself 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, 
" who 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 laiy at last, and drew from himself T 

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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 human nature, some with a more excur- 
sive fancy ; but for kindliness of feeling, truthfulness 
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. 

There 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 
Europe, tne 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-machS, ifeis 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 ail 
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 vermiilion red, 
like sealing-wax, but is more commonly ornamented 
with figures of yellow or green upon a red ground, or 
red upon a black 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 various 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, j 

1 The first is a wooden form or mould, covered witb 



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 li^ht as possible, as 
upon tbis matter the beauty and delicacy of the ware 
will depend ; towards the edges the weaving is of a 
closer nature, and tbe bamboo is 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 

E laced beneath. The tree is described as being very 
irge and beautiful, and in the flowering season to be 
so 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 nnd their hands 
blistered 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 person. It would seem from 
the following rhyming proverb that they connect moral 
defect with this liability : — 

Thit-tsl thek-the thi, 
Lu ma- then phyet-thl, 
Lu then atwa ma shi. 

i.e. " Thit-tsi is a true witness ; it injures the false man, 
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. The cup 
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 
powder is that of calcined bones; in another, it is the 
nusk 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, 
as well as after every other in which the varnish is 



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used in any shape, the cup is returned to its conceal- 
ment in the vault, where it must remain at least three 
days before auy 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 string, 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 with his right hand, and presses 
a piece of pumice-stone, held in his left hand, against 
the inside of the cup : this process soon 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 or 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 day. 

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 is 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 



mod es 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 hy turning first against a piece of 
Bmooth 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 cup after it has gone through the two first 
operations of No. 9, and nothing more is required than 
giving it a polish with the hand, unless extraordinary 
lustre is desired, when a mixture of Bhan-zi and thit-tsi 
is applied. 

Specimens 11 and 12 are engraved cups, execute 
in tne 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. 1 1 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, is rubbed off in the lathe with wet bran 
held in the hollow of the hand. The operation is ge- 
nerally repeated, to ensure a complete filling up of all 
hollows, and the cup is afterwards varnished and po- 
lished. 

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 is a similar 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 orpiment, 
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 beautv of the engraving consists chiefly 
in the contrast of bright colours and the regular inter- 
lacing of minute lines, in which some specimens re- 



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[January 22, 



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 sometimes 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, 
^ome 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 beinp, that in the wood- work 
the first varnishing is omitted, the solid and flat 
surface of the wood taking the paste at once without 
preparation. 

If the varnish of Burmah, or anything possessing 
like properties, could be procured in this country, 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 pasfc 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 in a 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- 
ing-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 fiequently 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 ; trie types, like- 
wise, instead of being formed wholly of metal, are 
partly of metal and partly of wood. The use of wood- 
type letters deserves a few remarks. 

In the printing of large posting- bills, the small 
letters arc common metal types, but the larger letters, 
as well as any pictorial embellishments which may 
form part of the bill, are cut in separate blocks of 
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-giained; but pine is more frequently used 
for the larger sizes. The planks of wood are sawn 



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 sneets of paper for 
posting-bills are generally about one size, three quai - 
tcrs 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 as 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 m our former numbers, 
they arc simple and unimportant. 



THE SHEERWATER OR BLACK SKIMMER. 

The extraordinary structure of the bill in this Ameri- 
can bird (the Rynchops of Linnaeus) 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 
purposes which it has to execute. Button, as was too 
frequently his wont, condemns an organization which lie 
did not understand, and indeed could never have accu- 
rately examined. " The bird named Bec-endseaux 
(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 (avanc6c) 
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 
manege, or rather, from this necessary and painful 
(pdnible) exercise, the only one which could enable it 
to live, that the bird has received the name of CGitpetir 
d'eau (cut-water) from some observers, whilst the name 
of Scissor-bill has been intended to point out the man- 
ner in which the two unequal mandibles of its bill fall 
one upon the other ; of these, the lower, hollowed into 



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a gutter with two elevated trenchant edges, re- 
ceives ihe upper, which is fashioned like a Wade 
(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 sec 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 
of the lower mandible shuts.' Yet Buffon, who quotes 
Catesby, gives the erroneous description above no- 
ticed. 



Bill of Ryuchops. 

The male is about nineteen inches in length ; the CiOscd 
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 
rod-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. Tbey fly close to the surface of 
the water, from which they seem to receive somewhat 
of food. They also frequent oyster-banks, on which 1 
believe they feed ; the structure of their bills seems 
adapted for that purpose." 

Wilson thus describes their mode of taking food on 
the wing : " The Sheeruoater is formed for skimming, 
while on the wing, the surface of the sea for its food, 
which consists of small fish, shrimps, young fry, &c, 
whose natural haunts are near the shore and towards 
the surface. That the lower mandible, when dipped 
into 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 



solely allotted, is of uncommon hardness, strength, and 
muscularity, far surpassing in these respects any other 
water-bird with which I am acquainted. To all these 
is 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, long 
bending neck, and lower mandible occasionally dipped 
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- 
quently seen skimming close along shore, about the 
first of the flood. I have observed eight or ten in 
company passing and repassing at high water, dipping 
with extended neck their open bills into the water 
with as much apparent ease as swallows glean up 
flies." And this is the • exercise p6nible' 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- 
quence swarmed with small fry, I watched many of 
tnese 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 ploughed it in their course ; the 
water was quite smooth, and it afforded a curious spec- 
tacle to benold 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 
them 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 from 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 fish 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 
trees. 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 



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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 Rhynchops 
frequently fishes by night, at which time many of the 
lower animals come more abundantly to the surface 
than durine the day. I was led by these facts to spe- 
culate on the possibility of the 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 removing 
with care the thin horny covering of the beak, I 
cannot perceive any trace of those nervous expansions 
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 remember 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 Rhyncnops," 
(Zoology of the Voyase of H. M. S. Beagle.) 

But it appears that tnis organ is not merely useful as a 
skimmer, but that it is equally available as an oyster- 
knife. M. Lesson says — " Though the Becen-ciseaux 
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 Mactrte, bivalve shells, which 
the ebbing tide leaves nearly dry in small pools ; the 
Becen-ciseaux, well aware or 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 Wade 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 Ornitholo- 
gy.) 

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 wnich, he 
believes, it is unknown) from its tropical quarters early 
in May; and he thinks that it probably passes 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 
eaten by the inhabitants of the coast. The female only 
sits on ner nest during the night, or in wet and stormy 
weather ; but the young remain for several weeks be- 
fore they acquire the full use of their wings, and are 



during that penod 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 
young are prepared for their voyage, raise but a single 
brood in the season." (Manual of the Ornithology of the 
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. 



Hyuchop* nigra. 

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 think 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 of their sledges by 
the violent jolts. In wet weather it is almost impassable, and 
after the thaw has set in quite so for a few 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 replaced till the weather is settled : 
the yagers are frequently 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 series of ruts, holes, and hillocks. In the continued 
heat, which withers all the grass on the steppe, some inches of 
the surface is beaten into dust, and in a light wind a haixlker- 
chief over the face is almost indispensable in travelling. The 
dust on a 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 vent-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 neasauts are obliged 
to leave the crops and set to work.— Jesse's Notes of a Half Pag. 



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[Fuegiani.— Oroupod from plates in the ' Voyages of the Adventure and the Beagle.*] 



SOUTHERN ABORIGINES OF SOUTH 
AMERICA. 

Of 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- 
pected. The name of Tierra del Fuego, given by 
Af agalhaens because many fires were seen in the night 
upon that land, is applied to all the islands south of 
Magalhaen's Straits, from 53° 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- 
pelago is a region of clouds, vapours, rain and storms, 
but 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 disagreeable, as 
would be the case in our own climate. Plants which 
in England require to be delicately nurtured flourish 
daring 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 employed 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 Fitzrov conjectures that they are probably 

no. 630. 



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 
adult 8, 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 trilfes. 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 ot 
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 nave subjugated the norse 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 
Patagonians by not having subjected the horse, they 
may be treated in a group, to which the name of Canoe 
Indians is given. Each of the Fuegian tribes speaks 
a distinct language, but some words are common to 
two or more tribes. 

Captain Fitzroy, who is perhaps 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 personal 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 



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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 less 
prominent than that of an Alikhoolip, in whom it is 
targe 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 appear more pointed than 
those ; the front teeth are solid, 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 seen as plainly, in proportion to its size, as in 
that of a horse. 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- 
landera. 

"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- 
peans ; his joints are smaller, and his extremities are 
likewise 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 
muscles of their thighs are large, but those of the legs 
small. 

" A small fillet is all that is worn around the head. 
Usually this 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. 
Alter 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 
of a 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- 
tempted by tne intruders, and if they are not too nume- 
rous, the men return cautiously, making friendly signs, 
waving pieces of skins, rubbing and patting their 
bellies, and shouting. If all goes on quietly, the women 
frequently return, bringing with them 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 skin in their posses- 
sion. 



" 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, 
ana 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 ot 
culture ; seals, 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 meeting of tides causes 
a constant supply 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 tiiem 
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 remain 
many months in such a spot, however productive it 
may be, but go wandering away among tne numerous 
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 Dreed 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 in a future number. 



DOMESTIC ECONOMY. 

BOILING FOOD. 

Count Rumford,* a most able American 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 neces- 
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 precisely 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 sea 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 ; hit 
name was Benjamin Thompson, and he was created a count by 
the king of Bavaria, in whose service he lived many years. 



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tnations. Water bolls 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 209^ of Fahrenheit's thermome- 
ter ; yet nobody ever perceived that boiled meat was 
less thoroughly done in Munich than in London. But 
if meat may, without the least difficulty, be cooked with 
the heat of 209£° 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 tneir prejudices, and to enlighten their under- 
standings. Tnis 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. 

It is well known that in this country the inhabitants 
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 spirits, 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. In this view of 
the case, good cookery is of first-rate importance. 

We shall now turn to Count Rumfords experiments 
and remarks with regard to the saving of fuel, which 
is a very 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. 



The first thing to be ascertained is, how much fuel 
would be required to heat the water and the beef 
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. It has been shown 
by experiments that 20,\,lbs. 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 to heat the water in question only 
157° ; for its temperature being that of 55°, and the 
boiling point 212 6 , it is 212°- 55°= 157°: and if lib. 
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 20^108. to 23 lbs. 

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 in 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 expe- 
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 beef 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 3f lbs., as will be found on 
making the computation. 

This quantity ;3J 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. ot 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 5081 ba. 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 gives 338Jlbs. of boiling hot 
water kept boiling one hour, with one pound of the 
fuel ; and computing from these data, and supposing 
farther, that a pound of beef requires as much heat to 
keep it boiling not any given time as a pound of water, 
it appear that 3£lbs. of pine-wood used as fuel, would 
be sufficient to keep 3001bs. of water, with the lOOlbs. 
of beef in it, boiling three hours. This quantity of fuel 
(= 3ilbs.) added to that required to heat the water 
and the meat boiling hot (= 26}lbs.), gives 29}lbs. 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 1601bs. 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 ot the 
fuel he applied immediately to the cooking of the meat, 
and to that purpose alone. Much the greatest part of 
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 in a 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 lOOlbs. of meat, at the mean tem- 
pearature of die atmosphere in England (55°), may be 
made boiling hot with the heat generated in the com- 
bustion of ailbs. of pine-wood, and there is no doubt, 

F 2 



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with the use of proper means for confining the heat, 
that this meat might be kept boiling hot three hours, and 
consequently thoroughly done, with the addition of 
}lb. of the fuel, making in all 4lbs. of pine-wood, 
equal in effect to about 2Jlbs. of pit-coal; which, 
according to this estimate, is all the fuel that would 
be absolutely necessary for cooking lOOlbs. 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 
meat ; 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 8001bs. of cold water are heated ex- 
pressly for that purpose, in that case the fuel required, 
amounting fo 16lbs. of coal, would cost in London 
(the ton reckoned as above), just 2 pence, or 1} farth- 
ings. But all this expense ought not to be placed to 
the account of the eooking 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 (lOOlbs., and 
3001bs. or 37£ gallons of soup. 

The principal design in publishing these computa- 
tions is to awaken the curiosity of the reader, and fix 
his attention on a subject, which however low and vul- 
gar it has hitherto generally been thought to be, is, in 
fact, 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 
greater magnitude, respecting the manner of preparing 
food for the table, would probably be derived from 
them. 

The heat of boiling water, continued for a shorter 
or a longer time, having 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 me- 
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 difference, for 



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 taste 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 £erch, were found. After t)ie pond 
was thought to be quite free, under some roots there seemed 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 ; 
bis 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. — YarrelP* History of British Fishei, 



Tne Olive -Tree ana its Effects on Social Economy. — The in* 
habitants of the gloomy little towns in the Papal States, their 
squalid, notbing-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 land and its glorious vegetation. 
Their country produces every thing but industry— every thing 
but industry ; and man flourishes as a moral intelligent being 
only where industry is forced upon him— and civilisation 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 dyke-side, like ths elu pol- 
lard saughs we usually see 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 dairies, 
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 this a curse, and not a blessing? Look at the people of all 
olive-growing countries — and the question is answered. The 
countries 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, Lainge Note* of a Traveller 
on the Social and Political State of France, Prtwta, Switzerland, 
Italy, and other vartt of Europe, 



Industry. — There is no art or science that is too difficult for 
industry to attain to ; it is the gift of tongues, and makes a man 
understood and valued in all countries and 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. In a word, it conquers all enemies, and 
makes fortune itself pay contribution. — Clarendon, 



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THE EEL. 
There are three different species of the fresh-water 
eel (Muraenidae) 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 witnin the last few years. The existence 
of four was first spoken of in the second edition of the 
• Regne 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 : — 
"Thenead 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 la»gest: 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 
tiro-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 ; 
vertebrae 113." The differences between the three 
species are very slight, being principally in the form 
of the vertebrae. 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 



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 
caught 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. Yarrell says: — " 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. Yarrell informs us that 
eels are not only numerous, but are also in great 
request in many other countries. Ellis, in his ' Poly- 
nesian Researcnes,' 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 nave been several times with the young 
chief, when he has sat down by the side of the hole, 
and, by giving a shrill sort 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 



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[January 29 



in this manner, London is chiefly supplied from Hol- 
land ; and a considerable trade is carried on between 
the Dutch fishermen and the London markets. Eels 
are not known in the arctic regions : it is generally 
believed that they have a great dislike to cold : thoy 
migrate in the autumn down the rivers to reach the 
warm brackish water, which is of a higher temperature 
than either the fresh water of the river or the unmixed 
salt of the sea. They bury themselves 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- 
shire :' — " 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 to a 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 
quietly proceeding 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 them 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 Sandford Park, near 
Enstone." 

Mr. Varrell tells us that " the eel* is a voracious 
feeder during certain months of the year. In winter 
the stomachs of those which I examined were empty ; 
by the middle of March I found the stomachs of otners 
distended with the larvae 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 them 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. Varrell, " the great bulk of tneir 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 I 
believe I am correct in stating that few young eels 
were observed to pass up the Thames either in the year 
1834 or 1835. Some notion may be formed of the 
quantity of young eels, each about three inches long, 
that pass up the Thames in the spring, and in other 
rivers the peginning 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 (he term 
elver, in common use on the banks of the Severn for a 
young eel, is a modification or corruption of eel-fare." 
The author of the article Mar amides in the • Penny 
Cyclopaedia,' speaking of the ascent of the young fry 
up the stream, says : " Such a desire do the young eels 
(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 eel is an exceedingly prolific fish, remarkably 
tenacious of life, and very easily 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. 
The 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 seems 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; and the feeble and 
unprotected, writhing under tne grasp of the wealthy 
and powerful, gladly availed themselves of a means 
whicn at least wore some semblance of impartiality, 
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 ana influence, soon 
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. Altnough 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, It is 
among the various tribes who occupied Europe after 
the fail of the Roman empire, that we find the first 



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traces of this form of tiial. '• The earliest instance of 
the judgments of God among the northern nations," 
says M. Dinaux, "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 believing 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 praefect; and the same officer assumed, 
within his district, the command of the troops and the 
administration of justice. But the fierce ana illiterate 
chieftain was seldom qualified to discharge the duties 
of a judge, which require all the faculties of a philo- 
sophic mind, laboriously cultivated by experience and 
study ; and his rude ignorance was compelled to em- 
brace some simple and visible methods of ascertaining 
the cause of justice. In every religion, the Deity has 
been invoked to confirm the truth, or to punish the 
falsehood, of human testimony ; but this powerful in- 
strument was misapplied and abused by the simplicity 
of the German legislators. The party accused might 
justify his 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 determined 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 forward 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- 



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 ihey 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 some consideration, and was performed 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 three 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 
carrieu* 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 
burning pile unscathed. A more innocent ordeal was 
auplied to books of doubtful tenets, 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 Kufus, 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. JVater-ordea*. — This was either by boiling water 
or cold water. The ordeal of boiling water was espe- 
cially, 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 for 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, lie was declared 
guilty ; but if he sank, he was at once drawn out by 
means 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 generally 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 would have for its object to protect 
innocence 

3. Ordeal of the Eucharist.— 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 Childerbcrt twelve compurgators were ad 
mitted to swear with him. 



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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 cnam- 
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 
painful posture longest, his client gained his cause. 
In 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 Bier. — This was used in cases of 
munW. 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 ii he failed, the principal must take all other con- 
sequences upon himself. 

Tietberge (a.d. 860), daughter of the emperor Lo- 
thaire, submitted, by champion, to the hotrwater 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 mi^ht 
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 ever 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 
too 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 vanous prayers, masses, and 
ceremonies required each their respective remunera- 
tions, while the connivance and collusion, which must 
have so freauently 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- 



tions of the devil and several pontiffs, prelates, ana 
councils have protested against tnem. 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. te 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 ia 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 happened that so 
many persons escaped unhurt. Although a few of 
these believe some kind of interposition to have been 
possible, yet the great bulk seem to be of opinion that 
deception and collusion were largely practised. Vol- 
taire believes that the tricks of the jugglers and fire- 
eaters of our own day were well known wen, and, from 
repeated practice, adroitly performed. Montesquieu 
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 short a 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 were 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 sor- 
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 God." 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 meet 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 tne church of any of her 
possessions, he never failed to burn his fingers and lose 
nis cause." Beckmann considers that the three days 
prior to the trial were probably employed in the pre- 
paration of some preventive, while the masses, sprink- 
lings, 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 
says 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 wordlv influences 

[To oe Continued. 



Gas-Ltgktmg. — The town of Sydney was for tne first time 
lighted up witn gas on the 35th of May last, it being the first 
city in Australia, or in fact in the Asiatic world, to which this 
important invention of modem times nas been applied. 



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THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 



41 



A DAY AT A SOAP AND CANDLE FACTORY. 



[Soap-Boiling Coppers.'. 



If 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 immediately 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, 
point out the spot to which our attention will be 
directed 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 amon^ 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 generally 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 at a 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 warehouses, 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. Among 
these factories, on the northern side of the Commercial 
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 naving 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 existing 
on this spot ; but about a century ago the house ceased 
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, wo 

Vol. XI.— G 



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THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 



[January, 1842. 



find ourselves in an open court, with a dwelling-house 
immediately 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 either with the raw materials from 
whence soap and candles arc 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 
anti 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 frontispiece, 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 eight 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 
profuse volume of steam ; into a third a supply of alka- 
line liquor is being conducted, from vats wnercin it is 
prepared ; from a Fourth the spent ley or liquor is being 
pumped, after having imparted its alkaline property to 
the soap ; some are for 4 mottled* soap, some for • yel- 
low,' some for ' white ' or • curd • soap. According to 
the time when the « boiling- house' is 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 from a 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 soap 
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 
/ats, in which the alkali is brought into a purified and 
dquid 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 manufacture, 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 

Imrification takes place are situated a few feet 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 



the alkalis, a residuum which is extensively used 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 been 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 made ; the name of frame 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 
opposite each other. In walking between these rows 
of frames we see in one place a man filling a frame 
with liquid soap; in another, men taking a frame to 
pieces after the solidifying of the soap ; in a third, other 
men cutting up a mass of 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 
piled up in tiers, like bricks in a wall. If " cleanliness 
is next to godliness/'according to the old adage, we ought 
to have very pleasant thoughts while passing between 
these walls of soap — here 4 mottled ' — there • yellow ' — 
in another part * curd,' and so on ; but the truth is, 
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 factory, 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 coppers 
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 bare, 
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 relative 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 soap- 
department, that in one place is a storeroom or ware- 
house for tallow ; in another, a similar depository for 
alkalis ; in a third, for resin (an important ingredient 
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 the oil— solid in our climate 
— is melted out of the cask through the bung-hole by 
means of steam. In another spot the oil thus melted 
is purified and bleached, and brought into a state fit 
for the soap-manufacture. Other rooms, or portions of 
rooms, are devoted to various subsidiary processes 
relating to the soap-manufacture ; but to which we need 
not pay particular notice 

After naving visited the various portions of the soap- 
department, we glanced through the candle-department, 
which, although 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 



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43 



or floors, one extending ever the bottom in the usual 
way, and the other forming a kind of gallery round the 
four sides, at the height of about twelve feet from 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 is, indeed, a kind of staircase, such as is used 
by ship-builders to ascend the sides of a ship, and is 
adapted by the smallness of its angle of elevation for 
the ascent of persons carrying loads. The floor or 
ground 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 aistant a few feet 
from the cisterns, are reservoirs or vessels of melted 
tallotr, 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 ot the wicks ; some 
more plentifully coated ; and some nearly in a finished 
state. On three sides of the room men arc making 
candles by the aid of the machines which we shall speak 
oi 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 oiher men 
and boys are 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 wcrk-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,' * twelves,' 
&c, — denominations too well known to every housewife 
to need explanation ; and the other to fasten the 
candles on a string. In a small 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 
particularly to the soap or candle departments of the 
factory, 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 
wnoke from the different flues and furnaces is con- 
ducted into a square or rather pyramidal chimney of 
Urge 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 



is a great blot upon the fiscal arrangements 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 ot 
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 ameliorations have, within a recent pe- 
riod, been made in the mode of collecting the revenue, 
and the survey of the premises of soap manufacturers ; 
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 to submit 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/. 14*. per ton proves the truth of these observations, 
and could this amount be further reduced, so that, like 
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 
from 1828 to 1832, the year preceding the reduction, 
when the duty was charged upon 91,000,000 lbs. In 
1834, the year after the reduction, it increased to 
104,796,000 lbs., showing an increase of 14 per pent, in 
two years. It has since gradually increased to 
127,000,000 lbs. 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 from twenty to thirty shillings per 
week is 10 lb. per head per annum, and in families 
above this class from 12 its. to 25 lbs. per head. Now, 
the quantity used per head in 1840 was 6} lbs., a smaller 
quantity than is 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 superior class of officers 
is being introduced, and it appears likely that whilst 
the maker will no longer be subject to unnecessary or 
vexatious restrictions at the caprice of an exciseman, 
greater security will be afforded to the revenue. 

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THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 



[January, 1842. 



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, 
and of the steps by whicn 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 Cyclopaedia' as a 
compound derived from the union between fat or oily 
substances and alkalis ; and the nature of its forma- 
tion is expressed in the following terms :— " It has 
been found by Chevreul that different varieties of fatty 
matter consist chiefly of two parts : one hard, to whicn 
he gave the name 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 
glycerin. 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 oleic 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 seventeen 
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 to a Company for the exclusive manufacture of 
soap, under the til le of the « Governor, Assistants, and 
Fellows of the Society 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 ; whereupon the Company 
obtained 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) tne 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 died in prison. These tyrannical acts were fol- 
lowed by various proclamations and orders in council 
restricting the manufacture of soap except by the 
patentees, and fixing the price at which soap should be 
sold, and the materials from which it should be made. 
In 1635 many other soapmakers were committed to 
prison, and greater power was given by proclamation 



to the patentees upon their covenanting to pay 61. per 
ton on five thousands tons annually. In a short time, 
however, the patentees, having •• vexed the whole 
kingdom with their soap for three years," obtained a 
warrant from his majesty (1637) for 40,000/. for giving 
up the patent, and 3000/. for their 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 been 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, 65; grease, 62*5; water, 31 0: 
total, 100. The tallow principally employed in the soap- 
factories of England is brought from Russia, and is 
exported from thence in a solid state in barrels. So 
large a quantity of this substance is used in England, 
that ubout thirteen hundred thousand cwts. are im- 
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 in a tolerably pure 
state, and requires no preparation previous to its em- 
ployment in making soap. The heterogeneous substance 
known 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 in a 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 soap manufacture. 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, yet 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 Ions 
imported annually from Spain, Sicily, and Sardinia ; 
and formerly the quantity was much greater. 

Kelp, another form of the carbonate of soda, alluded 
lo 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 tne 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 



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45 



which had previously been wholly unproductive. 
Dr. M'Cullocn 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 on the surface of the water, till, mix- 
ing with the hreeze, it diffused its odoriferous haze 
over all the surrounding atmosphere. . . The weeds, 
heing cut by the sickle at low-water, are brought on 
shore by a very simple and ingenious process. A rope 
of heatn or birch is laid beyond them, and the ends 
being carried up beyond the high-water mark, the 
whole floats as tne tide rises, and thus, by shortening 
the ropes, is compelled to settle above the wash of the 
sea, whence it is conveyed to dry land on horseback. 
The more quickly it is dried the better the produce ; 
and when dry it is burned in coffers, generally con- 
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." 

How strangely do variations in one branch of com- 
merce affect the arrangements of another ! Twenty 
years ago common table-salt was 6old at four or five 
pence per pound ; but when the duty was wholly re- 
moved, this price fell to one halfpenny. Manufac- 
turers immediately turned their attention to this sub- 
stance, as a source whence saleable commodities might 
be produced. Common salt is formed of chlorine and 
sodium, and by chemical agency the two can be sepa- 
rated, and each one made to combine with some other 
substance. Such has been the case in respect to the 
soda used in the soap-manufacture : by far the greater 
part of it is produced from the sodium which forms one 
of the ingredients in common salt, the decomposition 



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- 
phate of soda ; this sulphate is converted into a car- 
bonate 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, where it ,is mixed with the requisite quantity 
of tallow, and any other fatty substance which may be 
employed. The mixture is then heated by steam, 
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 use in the process. It is pumped Up from 
beneath the soap by a pump whose barrel descends 
to the bottom of the copper ; and a fresh supply of ley 
is introduced. Again and again is this process re- 
peated, new leys being introduced after the spent 
liquor is withdrawn, and the leys being used m 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 sprinkling 
upon the surface a small quantity of very dense and 
strong ley ; this percolates slowly through the mass of 
soap, and leaves in its track those dark coloured veins 
which constitute mottling. 

When the tallow and alkali have completely formed 
into soap, and have attained a proper consistency, the 
soap is laded from the coppers in buckets or pails, and 
conveyed to the frame-room, where it is poured into 



[Filling Soap-framei-l 

the frames. These frames have, until within the last I angles are laid one upon another to a height ot ten or 



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 these rect- 



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 the 
weatner. 



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THE PENNY MAGAZINE 



[January, 1842. 



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



[Culting 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 arc 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 
ranged 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 tnree 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 owes this cheapness, as well as its colour, and 
certain properties which it possesses, to the large em- 
ployment of palm oil and resin in its composition. 
Although resin is in appearance very difFerent from 
tallow, yet it possesses tne same property of melting 
and combining with an alkali, and forming a soap by 
the combination. The analysis diners little in pure 
soap from that of mottled, and consists generally of 
G 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 



hope, be useful to our readers. The nature and source 
of resin are simply as follows : — From several species 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 goldeu 
yellow colour. The oil is obtained by bruising the 
fleshy 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 medicine, 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 palm-oil is brought to a 
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 Jittle 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. By a simple 
mode of fattening at the edges, the whole can be 
quickly put together, so as to form a sort of well or 
cistern, between four and five feet high, forty-five 
inches long, and fifteen wide. Into these frames the 
yellow soap is poured, the contents of each being 
about fifteen cwt These frames are not only put 
together and taken to pieces with more ease than the 
wooden frames, but the iron being a good conductor of 
heat, the process of cooling is effected 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 is almost exclusively 
used in the woollen manufacture, differs considerably 
from hard soap in its ingredients, its consistence, arid 
its general appearance. Both the alkaline and the 
oleaginous ingredients are different from those em- 
ployed in hard soaps ; since potash is employed 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 



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47 



ci pally from Canada and the United States.* The 
carbonate of potash is rendered caustic, 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, arc 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 wnite specks throughout the 
soap, which arise from the combination of the tallow 
witn 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, 1 '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 xn 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 ca- 
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 [Morgan'* MouM-MuMm. a, monld-cindlefi : *. mould*. through *Mcl 
manufacture of potash I the candles are pushed by the rods e ] 



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 upon 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. Hawes'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 many 
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 afe 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 
place by a pair of forceps. The frame or case is then 
brought 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 tallow is allowed to 
flow out of as many little holes as there are moulds, 
and thus the moulds become filled. As the moulds fill, 
a man pulls the wick in each mould straight and uni- 
form, by laying hold at the lower end. When one set 
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 disengages the forceps, and scrapes the su- 
perfluous material from the upper ends of tne moulds. 
The frame is then turned so as to brinp the moulds into 
a horizontal position ; and by a beautiful adaptation of 



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48 THE PENNY MAGAZINE. [January, 1842. 

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1842.1 



THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 



49. 



[•* And au old porter to relievo Iho poor at his gate."] 



THE OLD AND YOUNG COURTIER. 

The 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 com- 
merce were extended ; fresh sources of wealth were 
developed ; and new classes of society sprung into 
importance, whose riches enabled them to outvie the 
oW 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 
gentry themselves were compelled to conform. The 
following old song, which is printed in the ' Percy 
Relkjues,' from an ancient black letter copy in the 

• Pepys Collection,' is a lament over the changes which 
bid taken place in the early part of the seventeenth 
century, as 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 
fevoufite old song by way of introduction :— 

* An old song made by an aged old pate, 

Of an old worshipful gentleman, who had a great estate, 
That kept a brave old house at a bountiful rate, 
And an old porter to relieve the poor at his gate j 

like an old courtier of the queen's. 

And the queen's old courtier. 



no. 632. 



With ati old lady, whose anger one word assuages 

This (who) every quarter paid their old servanti their 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, tliat 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 nose, 
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 m all his old neighbours with bagpipe and d:um, 
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 j 
like an old courtier, &c. 

Vol. XI.-H 

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But to bis eldest sou his bouse and land be assigned, 
Charging hiin in his will to keep the old bountiful mind, 
To be good to bis old tenants, and to bis neighbours be kind : 
But in the ensuing ditty you shall beat how be was iucLuitl; 

Like a young courtier of the king's, 

And the king's young courtier. 

Like a flourishing young gallant, newly come to bis land, 
Who keeps a brace of painted madams at bis command, 
And takes up a thousand pounds upon bis father's land, 
And gets drunk in a tavern till he can neither go nor stand j 
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 serai 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 tine marble chimney, wherein bums neither coal nor 

wood, 
And a new smooth shovel-board whereon no victuals ne'er 

stood ;* 

Like a young courtier, &c. 

With a new study stuflTd 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 flue kickshaws and toys ; 
Like a young courtier, &c. 

With new titles of honour, bought with bis 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. 
Medical 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 aerosta- 
tion, weather, the construction and use of the air- 
pump, and other matters pertaining more or less to 
natural philosophy, than to its effeets on man ; and in- 
deed, until observations had been made and recorded 
bv travellers and aeronauts who have ascended into re- 
gions where the air is 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- 
ration, 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 
same quantity of air. The density of the air and the 
muscular energy of the lungs are proportioned to each 
other at the earth'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 ir,c of the double negation was common among the 
writers of this period. 



vations in the Alps and Andes have not failed to ex- 
perience the effects of the rarefaction. The first Spa- 
niards who attempted the ascent of the high mountains 
of America were attacked by sickness and pains in the 
stomach. The French traveller Bouguer had several 
haemorrhages on the Cordilleras of Quito. Zumstein 
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 from any 
state long continued, either above or below the average 
standard ; that, of the two conditions, suddenly incurred 
in any extreme decree, the human frame is better ca- 
pable" of withstanding a rarefied than a condensed at- 
mosphere ; 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 informs 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 oiilv during rapid 
ascent or descent of the balloon, and, wlien 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 only 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 might 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 during 
the time that he is in his aerial ship ; whereas such 
men as Saussure, Humboldt, 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 succeeded 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 



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mountain, equal indeed to the height of Mont Blanc, 
the mules began to pause for breath at almost « very 
*tep; they breathed quickly, and were evidently dis- 
tressed. They continued to ascend slowly, and round 
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 tor 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 proceeding 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 looking 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 
haemorrhage." 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 
ago, 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- 
marked 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 

f pressure on the joints of the thigh. In a work pub- 
ished by Weber, 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 and running. 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 tne weight of the bone. Another power, such 
for example as that of the muscles, must now take its 



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 stiffness 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 minutiae 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 carried forward a certain space by 
the action of the muscles. He thinks that the weight 
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 for 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 swinging 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 explains 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 aud 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, grampus, 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 Tli rd, in Lint, 1216, ordering 
the sheriflfs of London to purchase for him, in the city, aliundnu 
pieces of the best whale and two porpoises." — Manners and 
Household Erpcnses in the Thirteenth and Fourteenth Centuries^ 

H3 



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[Exhibition of Trizo Cattle at the Horse Bazaar, Portraan square.] 



CATTLE-SHOWS. 

If we were to ask why Christmas is so proverbial for 
its hospitalities, would it seem to be very far from the 
truth it 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 tutchers' 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 improvements 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 in activity. 

The Sraithfield 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 Aldersgatc -street* 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 
pigs, the animals of each species being the most per- 
fect examples of the excellence to wnich 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 nad 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 whicn 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 whicn 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 



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institution? 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 hira 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 tried 
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 
public demand really renders necessary. This course 
has 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 ot 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 horseflesh ; M 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 
breeds of sheep which ^tood nearly in as great need of 
improvement. But what is the case now ? A sheep 
can be reared fit for the market in two years, which 
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- boned, true propor- 
tioned animal of the improved breeds has in the same 
way been rendered above twenty-five per cent, more 
profitable. The meat thus obtained at a less expense 
of food and in a shorter space of time, is far superior in 
quantity and quality to tne carcass of the old breeds. 
Within 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 lbs. 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 breeds the 
quality of the coarse parts is very much better, and 
tne 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 
part and another has also gradually become less and 
less. 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 fareeq 1 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 used as fuel in the brick-kilns. 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 of fattening cattle ; and 



enables the fanner 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- 
eaters into consumers of animal food.* The profit of 
turnip and other green crops would then be greatly in- 
creased ; and the whole ot 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. yVith 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 lor 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 fertility 
from the want of manure. All this is now changed, 
and the alteration has been a most beneficial one to all 
classes. 



TRIAL BY ORDEAL. 

[Concluded from page 40.] 

There were yet many who failed at these trials, and 
these persons were cften 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 kin^s of 
France to an appreciation of the duties and dignities 
of his station. Her arm was cruelly burned by the 
hot water, and she only escaped deatn itself by nying 
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 
seemed, 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 proceedings 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 publicly 
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 dis- 
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 slaughtered in the borough 
of Leeds declined from 2450 in 1835-6 to 1800 in 1841. In 
Rochdale in 1836 the number of oxen killed weekly was 180; 
in 1841 only 05 or 70. 



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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 existed 
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 duel existed in England prior to the 
Norman invasion, but became modified in its details 
after that event. Restricted in its early use to certain 
criminal 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 example 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 Queen Elizabeth, and was held 
in To thill-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. The accuser 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- 
peared in the lists at sunrise, and, after the various 
formalities, continued their contest until one of the 
two was killed ("which rarely happened), or declared 
himself vanquished by pronouncing the odious word 
craven. If, however, tne 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 Hie 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 ol his dignity, and a citizen of Lon- 
don, by special charter, were also exempted : a thief or 
murderer, 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- 
pable of serving on a jury or appearing as a witness. 
In 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 
Eu, 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 vigorously opposed these barbarian 
practices, others encouraged and participated in them. 
Dulaure, in his * History of Paris/ cites numerous 
instances of religious communities applying for and 
obtaining of various monarchsthe privilege of holding 
lists, and indeed priests themselves sometimes entered 
the arena. Geoffrey of Vendomc tells us of a duel 
between a monk and a canon. Considerable emolu- 
ments resulted from the fees paid tor administering the 
oaths, the masses for those who fell, &c. 



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 bands 
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 Hindoos present the most elabo- 
rate system of ordeal, whether we consider the varieties 
of the procedure or the number of the laws regulating 
their employment. 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 Kamaon. In 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- 
ployed in Europe ; while other forms, such as swal- 
lowing poison, exposing the hand to a hooded snake, 
drinking water in which idols have been Mashed, 
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 
flourished ; nor must we flatter ourselves that our own 
age is entirely free from similar absurdities, rendered 
even still more striking by the contrast they present to 
the habits and observances which should result from 
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 towards a 
better state of things ; while the solemn prayers" and 
imposing ceremonies, which took place prior to the 
trial, would frequently render its performance unne- 
cessary, by 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 is common 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 feel- 
ings, must have had some reason which extenuated its 
rashness ; and in every case it appears to have been 
employed under the same circumstances. Suspicions 
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 consumed many lives in its determi- 
nation. Finally, we must remember, in attempting a 
comparative estimate of these ages, that those which 
succeeded them (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 become the unwilling instrument of pio- 
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? for who 
now believes it to be a "judgment of God?" It is a 



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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- 
grieved being compelled to offer his breast to the 
deadly 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 nave 
opened their eyes in some measure to the folly and 
wickedness of this practice. May they do so 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 reprobation 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 Correspondent] 

Among 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 
place. 

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 meet with 
slight differences in size, colour, &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 are still 

I reserved in this country, and we find them • as much 
ike each other,' to make use of a homely 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 difc 
ference. 

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



full grown, the difference, particularly in point of size, 
is often very remarkable : the smaller the stream, the 
smaller will be the trout found therein, may be taken 
as a general rule. But this rule does not apply to any 
but small streams ; for a brook of considerable size, or 
very 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 small 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 large 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 protected, 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 of years. This maybe 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- 1 - 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 grey 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 to a 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 water, 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 seasqns, in consequence 
of whicha 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 a small runnel that had its source in the moors above. 
Small, however, as this stream was, for it bubbled and 
danced along in a channel which was scarcely more 



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[February 5, 



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 admit the 
outward passage of any fish that weighed more than 
two ounces ; and as it passed down a steep declivity 
with great velocity, there was no probability of any fish 
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 each : in after-years some of a still larger 
size. In a few years the " reservoir trout " became in 
such repute, and were so eagerly and perse veringly 
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 preserves and fish-ponds : 
supplies of pheasants, partridges, and other sorts of the 
featnered 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 per- 
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 nume- 
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 
pounds. In natural history it is customary to give the 
height, 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 



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 nine or ten. 



Music of Nature in Norway, — Still as every thing is to the eye, 
sometimes for a hundred miles together along these deep tea- 
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 eagle'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 diu as loud as 
that of a city. Even at night, when the flocks are m the fold, 
and the birds at roost, and the echoes themselves seem to he 
asleep, there is occasionally a sweet music heard, too soft for even 
the listening ear to catch by day. Every breath of summer wind 
that steals through the pine forests wakes this music as it goes. 
The stiff spmy leaves of the fir and pine vibrate with the breeze, 
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, after a drifting storm, a mass of snow too 
heavy to keep its place slides and tumbles from the mountain 
peak. There is also now and then a loud crack of the ice in the 
nearest glacier ; and, as many declare, there is a crackling to be 
heard by those who listen when the northern lights are shooting 
and blazing across the sky. Nor is this all. Wherever there is a 
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 sounds that belong to it. Thence in winter nights come 
music and laughter, 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 season of the year. — Min Jdartmeam's 
Feats on the Fiord. 



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 
means of manufacture at Jeypore and its neighbourhood, 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 riotous; 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 had also thinned the other labourers, and destroyed or dis- 
abled seven Europeans. The product of last year, owing to these 
causes, was oidy 10,2121bs., which had been shipped to Eng- 
land. The total quantity of land fully and partially cleared 
amounts to about 7000 acres. The quantity of native tea- 
land 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, 3 12, 0001 bs. 
The company have set up a saw-mill to assist in the manufacture 
of chests and other requisite articles. A little steamer, intended 
to ply between Calcutta and Assam, had arrived iu the country. 
The expenditure, during the year, in England and India, was 
Rs. 5,49,460, 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 years, when it is tup- 
posed that the tea-lands will be in full perfection, is as follows : 
—1841, 40,0001bs. ; 1842, 80,0001bs. ; 1843, 160,0001bs; and so 
on, increasing 80,0001bs. each year. — Asiatic Journal, 



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" With an old battery natch worn quite off the hooks, 
And an old kitchen that maintained half a tlosen old cooks."] 

Old and Youmo Cox 



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, tnis is the 
only feature of the past with which their minds are 
strongly impressed. Of the other parts, which are 
necessary to he known hefore the past can he 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 
hospitality which was characteristic of our ancestors 
three or lour centuries ago ; and, at another time, no- 
tice some of the causes which necessarily led to a dif- 
ferent distribution of the means by which it was sus- 
tained. 

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. 633. 



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. Tne 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- 



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rnand wbich 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. The aristocracy bearded 
the crown and forced concessions from it by an im- 
posing array of armed followers, who generally accom- 
panied them wherever a parliament was assembled. 
Warwick, the ' king-maker,* maintained his great in- 
fluence in state affairs by the hold which he nad on a 
numerous body of retainers. The old writers state 
that thirty thousand men were daily maintained at his 
different castles and manors. Stow tells us that at a 
parliament held at London in 1457, the Earl of Salis- 
bury was attended by five hundred men on horseback ; 
Ricnard, 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 Wolsey'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 ot 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 Oxford, " lather 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 accom- 
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- 
sels 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 
mansions of their lords, to the number of five hundred 
or a thousand. 4n 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 



[February 12, 

special occasions for the privilege of shielding then 
own insolence under the ostentatious silver ' badge,' or 
the family arms, which none might strike with im 
punity ana escape from the hostility of the whole noble 
family." As a matter of course, •• such troops of idling 
partisans were only reflecting among themselves the 
feuds 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 
rents, these followers were maintained without diffi 
culty. 

Let us, however, visit the castle of a nobleman, and 
observe the plenty and good-living which abounds 
within. It is the year 1507, the 23 Henry VII.. a 
reign perilous to tne independence and grandeur of 
the notles, 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 " poor 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, is a 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 gar^ons or grooms ; and at supper there 
were eighty-four gentry, one hundred ana fourteen 
valets, ana ninety-two garcons. Among the persons 
of inferior note are mentioned a hermit, a bondman, 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 dinner one 
hundred and thirty-feur gentry, one hundred and 
eighty- eight valets, and one hundred and ninety-seven 
gar 90ns ; 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 irom 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 eighteen 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 supplied 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 
plenteous style of living :— Pantry— Spent six hundred 



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and seventy eight loaves, three quarters, twomanchets, 
price 18* lljrf Cellar— Spent thirty- three pottles, one 
pitcher, one quart of Gascouy wine, price 66$.; four 
and a half pitchers ol Matvoisey. 4* Gd. , seven pitchers 
of Rhenish, 4*. &£ ; one pitchci of Ossey, 12a. But- 
tery— Spent two hundred and fifty-nine flagons, one 
Suart of ale, 21* 7d, whereot m breakfast, twenty 
agons. Chandlery— Spent of Pans candles forty-six 
pounds, price 3s. \0d. and other chandlery, the price 
of which is set down at 4* Gd Hall and Chamber— 
Spent ten loads of fuel, 10* ; twelve quarters of char 
coal, 4* Stable— Spent hay and litter for forty nine 
horses of the lord, at id each horse, 2s. O^d., and in 
horsemeat tor the same, nine being half-price, 2s 3±d. ; 
also for sixty* two horses ot the lord's attendants wait- 
ing within tne hostelry, 6* 5f d. 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, 21*. ; twelve carcases of mutton, 14*. ; 
two calves* 5*. ; four pigs, 8*. , three swans, 10*. Gd. ; 
six geese, 2*. Gd. ; six sucking-pigs, 3*., besides 
poultry, small and large 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 7954/., which, according to Mr. Jacob 
{Consumption of Precious Metals), is equivalent in ex- 
changeable value to about 100,000/. of our present 
money. The expenses of the pantry, huttery, 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- 
dred 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 tne servants. That at H*ddon 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 tor 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. 

YVe 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 th<* abolition of personal 
+ Survey of the Manor in 1272. < ArchaoV 



slavery, in itself a great good, came the difficulty 
which has never yet been dissociated from a state of 
freedom. At first the evils of pauperism were met by 
alms-giving on the most extensive scale. The almoner 
was an officer not only in the court of the sovereign, 
but m 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 cfieik roll, that is, in his 
household ; yet he fed above sixty aged persons twice 
a day, and all comers thrice a week; and every 
Good- Friday he gave meat, drink, and money to two 
thousand seven nundred 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 
hells 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 aucient times. 

It lias been often remarked that when a stranger enters St. 
Peter*i 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 beautit, 
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. Arnold's 
Inaugural Lecture on the Study of Modern History. 

The Dandelion. — Every child knows it, and the little village 
groups which perambulate 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 sliall 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 m the open- 
ing year, peeping out from withered leaves, dry stalks, and deso- 
lation, as a herald, telling us tliat 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, 1 ' and that 
u 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, arc 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, 
loosened 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 buoyant 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 night of animated creatures than the. 
I teed oi a nlant — Journal of a Naturalist. 



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r Ulmua campettrti—VTintot aspect] 



THE ELM. 

Thb 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 very 
commonly planted in the hedge-row, gives a rich 
appearance even to a flat country, while the green 
lane, as all who enjoy a rural wait are aware, is ren- 
dered more pleasant dv its embowering branches. It 
is moreover truly an English tree, and if not indige- 
nous, it at least overshadowed the homesteads of our 
Saxon forefathers. Domesday-Book, compiled nearly 
eight centuries ago, contains tne 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-nouses were anciently over- 
hung ;" and he adds, that " even now it is impossible 



to enter Craven without being struck with the ins i- 
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 worthy of admiration. In 
early spring (though not annually) it throws out its 
dark crimson blossoms before the younff 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 is ended." 



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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 
elm. Both in England and on the Continent tnere are 
many public walks planted with elms ; and the fine 
avenue in St. Jameses Park, London, and that of the 
Champs ElysSes, at Paris, will recur to many readers. 
The elm thrives in most soils, with the exception of 
moist days and very light sands, but though requiring 
little attention and pruning, it is 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 pol- 
larding of course greatly injures the picturesque cha- 
racter of the tree, 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 00 feet 
high, diameter of the trunk 3£ feet, and of the head 60 
feet At Sprotborough Hall, near Doncaster, there is 
an elm 80 feet high, diameter of the trunk 5£ 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 of elms 
which have put forth leaves for more than three cen- 
turies, and it will continue to grow for a century or a 
century and a half in favourable situations ; but the 
best time for felling is at the age of sixty or eighty 
years. Evelyn says that forty years are required to 
produce a load of timber; and Mr. Loudon 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 is 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 Ulmarium, 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 incomparably 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- 
cese 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 be distinguished by the small- 
ness of its leaves : the leaves of the latter are not only 
larger, but resemble the hazle ; and as another distinc- 



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 " tne 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 foliage is so rich, without 
being leafy or clumpy as a whole ; and the head is, 
generally, so finely massed, and yet so well broken, as 
to render it one of the noblest of park-trees." 



SOUTHERN ABORIGINES OF SOUTH 
AMERICA. 

[Concluded from page 34.] 

The arts by which the Fuegians obtain food, shelter, 
and clothing are few and simple. Their wigwams 
scarcely exclude the weather. Those of the Tckeenica 
tribe are formed by fixing poles into the earth, touching 
one another, in a circle, and uniting into a conical 
shape at the top. The side against which the prevailing 
winds beat is covered with more dry grass, bark, or skins. 
The other tribes make their wigwams in the bee-hive 
shape, with branches of trees stuck in the grouncL 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 perfo- 
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 
or back of the body, and which cannot be regarded as 
an article of dress, being simply a pocket to carry stones 
for their slings, or to put in wnatever 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 in a 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 with a 
sharp bone. The Futgian is never without his sling, 
which he carries round his neck or waist Lastly, we 
must include the dog as a valuable auxiliary in obtain- 
ing a supply of food. Fire is always carried about 
wherever they go. The bottom of a canoe has a layer 
of mud or clay for the fireplace ; the baskets in which 
the women carry their paints and ornaments always 
contain stones (iron pyrites), and tinder of the inner 



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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 their own 
perseverance, activity, and sagacity. 

The migratory habits and the situations which they 
most frequent have been previously noticed. Their 
huts, we are told, are very commonly placed between 
projecting rocky points on sandy or stony beaches 
fronting 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 seal-skin. The women also go out to catch 
small fish, to collect shell-fish, and to dive for sea-eggs. 
They take care of the canoes 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 wigwams and canoes ; but the 
pursuit of food is the most constant object. They 
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 from their canoes ; also fish of 
fifteen or twenty pounds weight ; the seal and porpoise 
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 aie 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 their 
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 
cav?s that are inaccessible from the sea. Small fish, 
which constitute with shell-fish a large proportion of 
the food of the natives, are 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 famines ; but this accumulation of food pre- 
supposes the establishment of order and security instead 
of club-law, and 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 are sometimes 



the means ot preserving life. In Captain Fitzroy's 
narrative there is an account of a party of the natives 
who were in a famishing state, on wnich some ot the 
tribe departed, observing that they would return in four 
* sleeps with a supply of food. On the fifth day they 
arrived in a state ot great exnaustion, each man carry- 
ing two or three pieces of whale-blubber m a halt 
putrid state, and which appeared as if it had been 
buried 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 severe 
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 
Fuegians, 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 word and 
every 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 — nail 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 deserving 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 lamentation 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 supposes that this 
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 
leir dead in caves. They seldom live to a 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- 



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ing, he marries. The first step is to obtain the consent 
of the girl's parents, and h«> conciliates their good will 
by helping them to make a canoe, 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 match, 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 his iamily ; 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 a tribe into a loosely connected social state ; but, 
according to Mr. Darwin, it scarcely deserves to be 
called articulate. 

In 1830 Captain Pitzroy 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 infant- 
school at Walthamstow, at the sole expense of Cap- 
tain 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 
spot was selected (Woollya) for the wigwams in which 
tney 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, 
planted and sowed with potatoes, carrots, turnips, 
Deans, 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 nolhing 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 to them. 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 



his own family ; and the garden was trampled all over. 
It was now determined that 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 months; 
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 bearing 
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 naked, 
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 seems to think, to the assist- 
ance and kind treatment which some shipwrecked 
seamen 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 
poor natives of this distant part of the globe are now 
left in the same 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- 
tagem ; 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 American forests several varieties of 
the birch ; but that from which the sap or juice is ex- 
tracted, of which wine is made, is the black 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 sap. 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 : 
while a 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. 

The sap of the black birch is nearly as sweet 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- 
pose of making wine, this sweetness is sufficient to pre- 
vent the necessity of adding sugar. It is necessary, 



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however, to reduce the liquid by boiling; and the 
country-people who make this sort of wine boil down 
the sap at 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 is a 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 palatable, 
great care being necessary in preventing its becoming 
acid ; and great cleanliness is necessary during the 
process of boiling, in order to keep it of a pale and 
bright colour. 

The maple- wine is made from the Bap 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 so as to reduce it to a thick syrup, the syrup 
will not granulate so as to become sugar. When a 
sugar-maker, therefore, has finished making his 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- 
pens that, of two trees growing side by side, the sap 
drawn from one will be much sweeter, and consequently 
yield 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 pounds 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 on a 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 before 
that has quite subsided, it is put into casks. Some of 
this maple-ale is by no means unpalatable, and much 
esteemed 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 comes 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 for 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, 



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 
expiration of which it is bottled off for use. This is 
commonly preferred to the other sort of apple-wine, 
probably because it contains more alcohol, and is more 
inebriating. 

Although the Temperance 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 annals of 
the government, in which are to be found the materials for 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 affiurs, 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 to posts, promotions, sentences, punishments, reports from 
the different departments of the public service, are consequently 
the principal 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 reports 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 soon as notice is given that it is no longer desired. 
The amount of the subscription is a leang (or teal) and a quarter 
(8s. 4d.) per annum. Those who reside in the capital only 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 fates well ; eats wholesome rye-bread, and plenty of 
it. Towards spring his stores, never well husbanded, begin to 
fail, and the coarse rye-flour is eked out with a little chopped 
straw j but when the cold season is prolonged, this position is 
reversed, and it is the straw which is to fill, not nourish, his 
body, — so much so that on exposure to fire this wretched bread 
will ignite and blaze like a torch. This insufficient fare is often 
followed by an epidemic, typhus or scarlet fever. This latter, 
especially, is the scourge of the land, and almost invariably fatal 
to children; and villages are sometimes depopulated of their 
juvenile members; for those who struggle through the fever are 
carried off by subsequent dropsy. — Letter* from the Baltic. 



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Corrobory Dance of toe Native*.— From a print published at Sidney.} 



ABORIGINES OF AUSTRALIA. 

It is not a century since the discovery of New Holland* 
or Australia, by Can tain 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 supe- 
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 going from north to south there is often an entire 
difference in parts at no great distance from each other. 
Different trioes are found in succession along the 
courses of the principal rivers. On the Darling river, 
where fish and 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 great 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 thriir treachery and im- 
placability. A green branch borne in tne hand is em- 

no 634. 



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 Mitrhell 
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." Major 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 



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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 like 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, with a 
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 
f>arts. 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, Ailing up the ends witn 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, witn a niche at the end to 
receive the spear. Heavy jagged spears, made of hard 
wood, and set with flints, are used ; others of reed, 
pointed with the bones of the emu, are employed in 
fishing; 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 derive 
much advantage from 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, larvje, 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 less 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 digging 
for it as would be sufficient to produce a cultivated 
crop. In their 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 



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 sweeter 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, into which the water 
filters, and to purify it tutts 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 obtained ; 
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 approach 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, with a small opening towards 
the middle of the stream, where a bag or net may be 
placed. The fishing-nets are made by tne women from 
flax growing on the borders of the river, and can scarcely 
be distinguished from 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 by birds, which resort 
to them from great distances. The 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 toes, 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 labo- 
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 frequently fol- 
low the victors; and the loss of a wife is one of the 
heaviest calamities which can befal their husbands. 

The natives of Australia believe in a good and evil 
spirit, and have numerous superstitions and customs of 
a religious nature. At the age of puberty, the youth 
of the male sex pass through a period of probation 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 



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hostile demonstrations, either to express their defiance 
or to stimulate their warlike fervour. The ' corrobory 
dance' is an amusement partaking in a slight decree 
of the nature of a rude drama. It is thus described 
by Major Mitchell : — " This amusement always takes 
place 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 
themselves white, in such remarkably varied ways, that 
no two individuals are at all alike. The surrounding 
darkness 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 
each imperceptibly warms into the truly savage atti- 
tude of the 'corrobory* jump ; the legs striding to the 
utmost, the head turned over one shoulder, the eyes 
glaring, and fixed with savage energy in one direction, 
the arms raised and inclined towards the head, the 
hands usually grasping waddies, bommercngs, or other 
warlike weapons. The jump now keeps time with 
«>«ch 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 left, the second jumps 
to the right, the third to the left 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 : the 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 



by the application of an acid or an alkali. This pecu- 
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 cmomule 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 
chromogen and 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 ycllowish-grccn 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 tneir 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, Macquart states to be as follows : — That 
when water or its elements are removed from the chlo- 
rophyle, the colouring-matter for the blue, violet, and 
red nowers 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 bua becomes a coloured 
flower of some other tint, he found that the transition 
from greon 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 olive-coXou red dress no such inconvenience 
was experienced The circumstance appeared to Dr. 

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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- 
phor than the white. The experiment was repeated, 
out 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 assafoetida, and 
similar portions in another drawer with camphor. 
In two other drawers he exposed black, red, and white 
cotton, in similar quantities, 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 
ran^e of colours was then selected, and experimented 
on in the following manner :— A piece of assafoetida 
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 assafoetida 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 assafoetida 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 by 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 tne differently- coloured substances 
were determined by a great number of persons, in 
order to avoid error as much as possible ; and there- 
fore the results stated seem worthy of attention. 

In another extensive series of observations made by 
Schiibler and Kohler in Tubingen, about ten years 
ago, the relation of colour and odour is attended to, 
more especially in reference to planta. These experi- 
mentalists examined the relations of the flowers of 
more than four thousand plants belonging to twenty- 
seven different families, of which twenty were of that 
kind denominated by botanists dicotyledonous, 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 tne most important. 
There were two points to be determined : 1st, Out 



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. Odoriferous Specie*. 

White 1194 187 

Red 923 84 

Yellow 951 77 

Blue 594 31 

Violet 308 13 

Green 153 24 

Orange 50 3 

Brown . 18 1 

4200 420 

From this it appears that white is the most extensively 
distributed colour ; and that the decided colours, red, 
yellow, and blue, are much more plentiful than violet 
green, orange, or brown ; red and yellow being nearly 
equal, and not much less numerous than white. It ap- 
pears also that about one-tenth part of the whole num- 
ber are odorous ; the white, which are the most plenti- 
ful, being also the most generally odorous ; and among 
the other 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 
to another. According to the sensation of the experi- 
mentalists, however, it was found that white flowers 
are not only more generally 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 variously-coloured plants the agreeably odo- 
rous were to the disagreeable only in the ratio of five 
to one, instead of fifteen to one. 

A further examination was made, in which the dif- 
ference between li^ht and dark tints was taken into 
account ; a light tint being regarded as possessing a 
good deal of the character of a white flower, and there- 
fore designated, perhaps erroneously, as having a con- 
siderable share of white mixed with it. Very exten- 
sive 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 :— 



Inteuiitr of Colour iu 
Flowers. 



With 0-12 ycr cent, white 
(dark) .... 

Wilh li-70 i»er cent, white 
(medium') . . . 

With 70-100 per cent, white 
(light) «... 



Mean number of Odoriferous Specie* iu 100. 
Recording to the prevailing colour of the 
flowers. 



Red. Violet, libit. Green. Yellow. 

5*66 .. 1*63 .. 4-66 

1309 8-47 10'45 10 15-39 

38-99 W39 12-90 SO 24G5 



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 are 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 varieties of " rose-colour.** 



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No odoriferous species are entered among the very 
dark violets or very dark greens. 

It might appear at first thought that some of these 
results are 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 other of odoriferous matters driven, as 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. 



tThe Pike (Btom lueUu).) 



THE PIKE. 



Although the pike (Esocidte) 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 
Quantities are taken in the north of Europe, and dried 
for winter consumption. Horsea Mere and Heigham 
Sounds, in Norfolk, are the places most celebrated in 
England for the quantity and excellent quality of 
these fish caught there. The pike grows rapidly, and 
sometimes attains an enormous size. Some have oc- 
casionally been found in the lakes of Scotland and 
Ireland tnat 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 Gresner mentions a pike taken in 
Swedeland, in the year 1449, with a ring 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, 
m interpreted by the then bishop of Worms." Walton 
tbea goes on to say " that it is observed, that the old or 



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 all the fish, t to water his 



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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. Sea^rave, 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 :'— u My father 
catched a pike in Barn-Meer (a large standing water 
in Cheshire), was an ell long, and weighed thirty-five 
pounds, which he brought to the Lord Cholmondeley ; 
his lordship ordered it to be tmrned into a canal in the 
garden, wnerein 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 pilcc 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 
them into the canal, which 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, 
a3 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 
pike, so that neither could free themselves, but were 
ingrapplcd 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 (bopeless 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 one of his guards to give him a hundred lashes, 
that so his porter might have fifty, according to his 
composition. And here my intelligence leaveth me, 
how much farther the iest 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 supposition, Walton extracts a long anec- 
dote from Dubravius'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 quiet by the shore side, leap 
upon his head ; and the frog having expressed malice 
or anger by his swoln cheeks and staring eyes, did 
stretch out his legs and embrace the pike's head, and 
presently reached them to his eyes, tearing with them 
and his teeth those tender parts : the pike, moved with 



anguish, moves up and down the water, and rubs him- 
self against weeds and whatever he thought might 
auit him of his enemy ; but all in vain, for the trog 
did continue to ride triumphantly, and to bite and tor 
ment the pike till his strength failed; and then the frog 
6unk with the pike to the bottom of the water ; then 
presently the trog appeared again at the top, and 
croaked, and seemed to rejoice like a conqueror, after 
which he presently retired to his secret hole. Thn 
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 ; and the pike 
was drawn forth; and both his eyes eaten out; at 
which when they began to wonder, the fishermati 
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 th<* 
species abounds, as in the Meres of Norfolk, is by a 
ligger or trimmer, which, says Mr. Yarrell, •* is a long 
cylindrical float, made of wood or cork, or rushes tird 
together at each end; to the middle of this float a 
string is fixed, in length from eight to fifteen feet ; th)a 
string is wound rounfl the float except two or th«*ro 
feet, when the trimmer is to be put into the water, 
and slightly fixed by a notch in the wood or coi k, 01 
by putting it between the ends of the rushes. Tho 
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 by a pike, the 
jerk looses the fastening, and the whole string un- 
winds, the wood, cork, or rushes, floating at the top. 
indicating what has 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- 
markable. He does not fear a shadow, as all other 
fish do. 



THE BOATS OF RUDE NATIONS. 

The 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 a skin. The 
ancient Britons used boats or canoes belonging to both 
these classes. The coracles of our ancestors were seen 
on the British rivers at the time of Julius Caesar 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 
th«- 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 been 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 morass called Lockermoss in Dumfries, Scotland, an 
ancient canoe was dug up in the year 1736, with a pad- 
dle near it ; the canoe was about seven feet long, and 



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dilated to a considerable frrcadth at one end. Another 
canoe, hollowed out of a solid tree, was seen by Mr. 
Pennant near Kilblain ; it was about eight feet lon«j 
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 tree. 
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. Sou they 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 'Archacologia,' from 
the pen of Mr. Phillips ; and from this account we 
shall borrow a few particulars. <jL 

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 
for a long time visible at about two feet 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 tree, 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 tooting to those who worked the canoe in 
the water : they are too low and narrow to have served 
for seats. After 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 enable 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 



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 of the world at the present day canoes 
hollowed out of trunks of trees form the recognised 
boats of the natives. There 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 canoes 
the Indians kneel two and two along the bottom, sitting 
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 canoe, and by this action not 
merely regain an equilibrium, but ^ive 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 arc attached one to another, the whole assem- 
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. The3e 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- 



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sion may require! the balsa is made to * sail large/ to 
1 tack/ to ' bear up/ or to • lie-to ' (to use nautical 
phrases), with tolerable ease. 

If the log-raft just described bears some similarity 
in material to the hollo wed-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 ivahahs, and another form called 
pahies, 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. On the 2nd of 
February of the severe winter of 1799, she was re- 
turning from market on horseback, about seven o'clock 
in the evening, along the road between Cambridge 
and Trumpington. Much snow had fallen in the 
course of tne day, which, in consequence of the vio- 
lence 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 overtaking him, and succeeded in doing 
so after having pursued him for about a quarter of a 
mile. She had hardly grasped the bridle, when she 
sank down by the road-side completely exhausted, and 
the horse again escaped from her. The place where 
she fell was by the side of a hedge, against 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 she 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, as may be imagined, most in- 
tense. For the first two or three days she made several 
ineffectual attempts to free herself from her miserable 
captivity; but latterly her strength so utterly failed 
her, that she was obliged passively to resign herself to 
her melancholy fate. As soon as she discovered how 
completely she was covered in, she had recourse to the 
expedient of raising a flag as a signal of distress : this 
she effected 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- 
mately 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 



the animals in the fields around, and the bells of the 
neighbouring villages. Passengers passed by her so 
close, that she could plainly overhear their conversa- 
tion, although her loudest snouts 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 
er hand to her head, she aid 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 less 
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 on 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 survived many more hours in this state. It was 
on Sunday, the 10th, that a young farmer, happening 
to pass near the hedge, observed the handkerchief 
which she had attached to the stick, and on examining 
the spot, discovered the jw. He was 

induced to look in by ssuing from 

within, and to his asto distinguished 

a female form, which scognised as 

tha Woodcock, whom be knew to have 

bee >me time. He called two men to his 

ass h. their help succeeded in releasing 

hei erfectly sensible as to know her de- 

liverers uy tueir voices, and to call them by their 
names. Her husband and friends were sent for, and 
arrived with a cart to convey her to her home. 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 have been murdered on her way 
home. 

Upon examination, her legs and feet were found to 
be partly mortified. He toes dropped off gradually in 
the course of the succeeding fortnight This 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 caused her to have but little comfort in the pros- 
pect that her life would be prolonged. Her case ap- 
pears to have been very unskilfully treated, as morti- 
fication, it is thought, might have been prevented, if 
J roper means had been used. She died on the 13th of 
uly, 1799, after having suffered most severely for five 
months. She was in the forty-second year of h^r age. 
There is some reason to suppose, however, that indul- 
gence in the use of spirituous liquors was the cause 
both of her accident and her death. 



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[Rmsian 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 many 
parts of his own country were almost impassable, if, 
nowever, he travels, he is, as it were, thrown back 
about a century; 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 ana comfort to 
endurance and strenuous effort the more striking and 
effective; the elegant chariot, the commodious ba- 
rouche, and the sprightly looking gig, all disappear ; 
while the sledge, the telega, 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 perfect the idea of the nature of travelling 
in the southern 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 
place in an inclosure, as they live in the open air. 
They 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 oand 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, on a 
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 telega, the rude and 
rapid vehicle of the Crimea. The telega, he says, is not 
worse than the Wallachian vehicle, i ou 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 dragged forward by the 
two vigorous steeds. In 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 

Voi~ XI.—L 



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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 
by 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 
journey from Petersburg to Revel in Estonia. She 
leaves 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 caleche 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 mere 
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, travelling 
with four post-horses but slowly through the unsound 
snowed-up road3, which were nevertheless not in the 
condition to admit of a sledge. Near midnight I 
alighted at the second post-house from Petersburg, the 
stages being on the average twenty-five wersts long, 
with four wersts to three 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 head 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 and there a bright Quentin 
Matsys looking head, peeping at the equipage through 
the dull double glass. Here 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. 



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 this would have ceased in 
a few hours. Peasants with their carts and cattle stood 
on the bank awaiting their turn ; and after much delay, 
and a profuse exchange of « tchorts 4 (literally, « devil'), in 
which these Russians are most liberal, and which seems 
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, among 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 m the same 
proportion as I advanced, until 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. How 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 telega, 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 those of our native land— I incau- 
tiously began another stage. The atmosphere now 
began to sharpen, and, from being very cold, became 
still and intense. A thick fog also filled the air, and 



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Antor, nestling his head into the depths of his furs, sat 
before me like a pillar of salt. I felt my warmth 
gradually ebbing away, my breath congealed on my 
lace, 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 
' VolhV (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, risiug 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 lay 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, 
oppressed with cold and fatigue of mind and body, 
sleep fell instantly upon me." 

After a short repose she awoke, and again resumed 
her journey. " Again our bells jingled more cheerily 
to daylight and renovated spirits. The fog vanished, 
the sun rose cloudless, and proves of birch-trees 
drooped gracefully beneath thin veils of glistening 
hoar-frost, 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. 1 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 land but one object, herself a home, 
who dreamed not of the fevered heart that was hurry- 
ing to meet hers V 9 



JAQUES CCEUR. 



The historians of the epoch of Charles VII. of Fiance 
have represented that monarch as possessing a mild 
and just disposition; but his weakness and indolence 
betrayed him 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 by 
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 Cceur 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- 
prises, planned with judgment, were usually success- 
ful ; and "as rich as Jaques Coeur" became a pro- 
verbial saying. He possessed 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, ne lent that monarch two 
hundred thousand golden crowns, unaided by which 
he could not have recovered possession of Normandy 
and other provinces alienated m times of anarchy from 
the crown of France. The honourable conduct and 
great 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 introduoed 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 majority of them were 
his debtors for large sums of money lent, a ready means 
of satisfying his claims seemed thus to present itself. 

Both during his struggles with and after bis final 
expulsion of the English, the court of Charles was 
always a scene of intrigue and turmoil, occasioned by 
the unfilial conduct of the Dauphin, afterwards Louis 
XL, and by the struggle for predominance among the 
barons who composed it. One of these, Antony Cha- 
bonnes, Lord of Dammartin, succeeded in establishing 
a permanent influence over the monarch, and proved 
Jaques Cceur'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 fled from 
him, lest that potentate should obstruct the passage of 
his ships: moreover he had presented the Soldan witli 
a complete suit of armour. Jaques Cceur 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 for two years 

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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 frivolous 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 
seeing 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 
hiin with the torture. As no defence was permitted, 



of course ho 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. His 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 
jjerpetual 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 himself 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 wandered 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 
justice, he exclaimed, " Surely they do but seek my 
life." It is pleasing to know that he owed his means 
of future safety to his former dependants, who, grateful 
to him for the success they had obtained in life, were 
^ot 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 Cceur'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 his 



affairs, historians are not agreeo*. His last act was to 
recommend his children to the consideration of the 
king. Retribution overtook several of his enemies, 
and the king decreed that the remaining property 
should be restored to the children. Long contests, 
however, followed between these and the unjust pos- 
sessors of it; but in 1463, Louis XL, 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 Creur 
into full possession of all the remaining property of 
his unfortunate father, making him at the same time 
his own cup-bearer. 



London Life of last Century.— About the time that the close 
of the last war undertaken by George II. threw loose upon the 
metropolis 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 iti 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. Among 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 inferior 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 j 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 shippiug them. 
The officers of justice were too few in number, and too deficient 
in organisation, to hunt out unlawful transactions: as Falstaff 
said of Worcester and rebellion, if they lay in tlieir way, they 
found them. And the out-of-the-way recesses and old-fashioned 
buildings in 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 
crim ping-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 
iu the neighbourhood of St. Bride's church-yard. On an inquiry 
being instituted into the nature of these clandestine burials, it 
was discovered that the bodies had come from a receiving-house 
of recruits for the East India Company's service j and ou 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 horrors; but they were indications of living 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 
p?8ts of society. At the same time the impetus given to industry 
in the manufacturing districts diminished the numbers of those 
who, driven by destitution to dishonesty, had flocked to Loudon 
as to an asylum. London was then almost the only town in the 
empire 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 dexterous and 
daring criminals, wherever bred, gravitated by a natural attrac- 
tion towards London as the centre of their system. It was their 
metropolis too. This supply was materially diminished at the 
same time that the romantic and attractive field of adventure 
in the East was thrown onen to the young, hot, restless bloods of 
the metropolis. The raiiks of the most dangerous portion of the 
" classes dangereuses" — those not "to the manner born," but 
who in their fall from purer regions had brought with them the 
intelligence of their earlier associates to render more malignant 
and powerful the propensities evolved by destitution and crime 



death, and the extent in which he had retrieved his | —were materially thinned.— London, part xi. 



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[Group of Polygon. 



THE POLYGARS OF TINNEVELLY. 

Nbab the southern extremity of Hindostan, on the 
Gulf of Manaar, and east of the mountains extending 
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 
grown there. The country is in general level and 
bare 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- 
laincotta. A great part of the land is rented by Brah- 
mins, who do not engage 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 
preserved many of their ancient privileges. This 
trict is one of the few in Hindostan in which 
landed property is recognised as being vested in indi- 
viduals, such property being held on ancient tenures 
which have never been brought into question. It was 
formerly 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 



same weapons; some are armed with swords and 
targets, otners with matchlocks or muskets; some 
carry bows and arrows, others spears, lances, or war- 
rockets ; many are expert with the battle-axe, but 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 again 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 struggle; 
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 Pay- 
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 



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[February 26, 



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 theCarnatic 
was transferred to the East India Company by the 
Nabob Uzeem-ud-Do wlah, 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 is 
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. 

Navigators 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 sear' 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 Mediterranean ; 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 exceptions to the general rule, some 
of which arc capable of ready explanation, while others 
are still subject for conjecture. A few details will 
show the nature of these exceptions, and the localities 
where variously-coloured sea-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 pestilential 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 trie 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 whence its name was derived. 



Ail the above tints are of an unusual kind, but the 
intermediate changes or degrees between blue and 
green are 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, not depending on the Btate 
of the weather, but on the quality of the water. The 
green-coloured Mater he estimates to occupy one- 
fourth 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 northeast and south-west; 
these are sometimes more than a hundred miles in 
length, and thirty or forty in width. These stripes of 
green water occur principally near the meridian of 
London, 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 
progressive, 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 e;reen, and transparent blue in the course of ten 
minufes' sailing. 

The mode in which ail 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 luminosity 
which the sea sometimes presents, especially in a dark 
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 wnich were attached 
myriads of exceedingly minute Crustacea, the apparent 
source of the white 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 constantly 
sought after by the whalers. When he examined with 
great care some portions of water taken from different 
parts of the sea, he found that the green water con- 



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79 



taincd immense numbers of medusae, from which the 
blue water was almost free, 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 water, 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 seen 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, is 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 
quality of the bottom. Thus, fine white sand, in very 
snallow water, affords a greenish grey or apple-green 
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 animalculae 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 colour 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 point 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 sea 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. On some occasions the edges of the 
waves, by refracting the solar beams like a prism, 
exhibit all the brilliant colours of the rainbow, which 
i3 still more nearly imitated by the refraction of the 
rays in the spray. Not unfrequently an indistinct 
image of the neighbouring coast, reflected from the 
ruffled surface, is 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 
its source. Blue is now regarded as the natural tint, 
so to speak, reflected from 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 example 
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 
a curious mode of comparing the depth of tint in dif- 



ferent waters. This was by using an instrument called 
a cyanometer (from two Greek words implying a • mea- 
surer of blueness ')t previously used by Saussure in 
determining the deptn of tints in an Alpine sky. The 
cyanometer consisted of a zone or belt of pasteboard, 
divided into fifty-one parts, and coloured with as 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 water (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 met 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- 
moreland 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 laminae, 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 arc constantly employed 
in the quarries, and in conveying 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 icstuary of the 
Irish Sea called Morecambe Bay, commonly known a3 
* the Lake region,' yields the blue or Cumberland 
slate, large quantities of which are shipped from the 
port of Ulverston and the villages along that coast. 
Some 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 car ted to the nearest port. But even 
in the vicinity of these lakes the quarries are sometimes 



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[Feb. 26, 1842. 



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 indeed 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 reports 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 conveying 
tho produce of the quarries to market. For the south 
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 somewhat stronger than the blue sort, where the 
two kinds are of equal thickness. 

It was once the custom to employ hi 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 tne hands of a few individuals, who es- 
tablished slate-yards in various parts of the country, 
employing 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 opera- 
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 largest and 
longest courses being placed along the eaves. The 
slater commences at the eaves, having first nailed his 
laths 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 each other 
being called the band, and on this depends the strength 



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



LAND REPRISALS. 
Muratori, 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- 
prisals, and of this practice he has given us the fol- 
lowing account : — 

" About 1289, reprisals were granted 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 Modenese 
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- 
publics, frequently at variance with each other. These 
disorders and the general confusion of the country 
were augmented by the quarrels between the popes 
and the emperors, and the Guelphs and Ghibellines. 

" By the Modenese Statutes ot 1327, the system ol 
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 required, 
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 
cities." Arbitrators were eventually appointed by the 
various cities, to whom all controversies 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 ot private retribution declined. 

The Firefly. — We caught several of these beetles TTiey 

are more than half an inch long, and hare 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 head 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. — StepKcn* T t 
Travtk in Central America. 



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Supplement.] THE PENN* MAGAZINE. 

A DAY AT THE WESTMINSTER GAS-WORKS. 



SI 



[Gu-Woikf— Horsefeny Bind] 



What Dr Arnott says of the water-pipes of London, 
ramifying through every street, and lane, and alley, 
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. 
The 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 j>ipes 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 through 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 
hack as the year 1823, when gas companies were com- 
paratively in their infancy, a Committee of the House 



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 fourtrundred thousand in number. 
The beauty and convenience of the light afforded by 
gas in streets, shops, and buildings, are appreciated by 
all ; but the protection which it gives, though not so 
folly 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. III., Nos. 1 59, 166, 
169, 170, and 174; and the reader will find in the first of 
these, a sketch of the history of gas-lighting ; 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, nowever, fall into the hands of readers who have 
not the former numbers to refer to, we shall give a 
line or two here and there explanatory of the uses of 



No, 



. 636. 



Vo: 

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[February, 1842. 



different parts of the apparatus, and may as well at 
once enumerate the successive steps or stages in the 
process. 1st. 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 piece 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- 
rities which are in the gaseous form only at high tem- 
peratures are condensed, and fall into a vessel beneath ; 
hence 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 containing 
either lime or lime-water, which combines with the 
deleterious ingredient, and leaves the carburetted 
hydrogen tolerably pure. 6th. The gas thus made is 
oonveyed through pipes to immense store-vesseis called 
gasometers or gas-holders, where it is kept out of con- 
tact with the atmosphere by inverting the vessel in a 
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 point 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 marry respects tne same relation to the 
gas-manufacture which the Soho factory bears to the 
steam-engine manufacture. AH was the establishment 
which first had to bear the brunt of all the obstacles 
attending the public use of gas, the difficulties in the 
production of gas sufficiently pure for purposes of 
illumination, 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 
beginning of the present century, formed a " National 
Light and Heat Company," which, though built upon 
rather fanciful grounds by the projector, became the 
parent 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 
history 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 



facts adduced in the evidence to support the bilL By 
calculations lhat 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 purposes of 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 tne successful establishment of 
this !" The buildings which had been erected 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 Company (the 
other two stations being at St. Luke's and near Snore- 
ditch) occupies an oblong plot of ground, upwards of 
three acres 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 times, as the operations of the Company ex- 
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 
Horseferry Road, we see 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 superintendent, 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 Drought to the London 
market at a price somewhat 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 kmd, 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- 
ployed is selected not with relation to the abso- 
lute 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 by a sort of 



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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 wnite 
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 carried 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 gasometer applied 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 gasometer 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 
tbis 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»whoin 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 te 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, 
ioto 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 ; 



and through this pipe the gas, when completely made 
and purified, is conducted. Now as carburetted 
hydrogen (common gas) is not half so heavy, i.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 .rises higher 
as the quantity of the contained gas increases. Balance- 
weights are suspended outside the gasometer to coun- 
terbalance in a certain degree 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 
inserted at the joints, or else canvas coated with white 
lead. 

The four gasometers described as occupying the 
south-east corner of the quadrangle have what is 
termed the telescope construction, 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 forty feet in diameter and 
eighteen feet high; and the gas-holders when full reach 
to a height of nearly forty feet. About twenty years 
ago there were some strange misconceptions afloat 
respecting the danger to be apprehended from the 
explosion of gasometers ; 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 
part of this reservoir is kept in good repair and per- 
fectly 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 seems 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 
are 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 
enclosed 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 supposed 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 separation of a 

M2 



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[February, 1&42. 



liquid containing the alkali ammonia, from the other 

Iiroducte 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 is now regularly purchased by the proprietors 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 
a3 fuel in the retort-house : while others, t>y 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 
series 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 each pipe, by which 
the ga9, as it passes through, is cooled, and the con- 
densible impurities separated from it. From 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. Referring to our former articles for a fuller 
detail, we may here merely state that the three or four 
purifiers forming one set are placed side by side, but 
at different elevations ; that each 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 goes 
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 feet of gas. 

In immediate connection with the building in which 
the condensing and purifying processes are conducted 
is an Artesian well, for supplying the establishment 
with water, of which a considerable quantity is required. 
The well is in the old form, excavated and bricked, to 
a depth of a hundred and twenty feet, after which it is 
continued by an Artesian bore to a further depth of a 
hundred feet. This is one among the instances which 
will probably be greatly multiplied in future, of the 
substitution of a small bore in place of an expensive 
excavation ; and rests on a 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 as a 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 vessel to an- 



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 m 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 range 
of cast-iron vessels, in what is termed the 4 pue- 
mill room,' where it is allowed to settle, by wnicn 
the principal part of the lime subsides and sepa- 
rates from the sulphuretted liquor. The lime is then 
taken to a • pug-mill,' a sort 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 
pouring it into shallow pans occupying the floor of the 
furnaces or ovens in which the retorts are heated. 
This mode, so far from being inconvenient, is produc- 
tive of benefit 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 is a carpenter's shop, in which 
wood-work for various purposes 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, by a 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, under 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 occupies 
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 retorts, about to be put in the place 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 quadrangle 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 01 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 



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t End View through Retort-house.] 



power, vastly more precious than the gold and silver 
mines of Peru, for they may be 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 apparatus, 
comprising vessels similar to those before described, 
as well as an ammonia tank, pumps, &c. 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 
principally by one gasometer, the largest in the esta- 
blishment, 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. In the open court of the quad- 
rangle are indications of the same traffic and bustle 
which the other presents : the arrival and unloading 
of cargoes 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 capi- 
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' 



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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 sees a burst of flame from each 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 each 
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 : 
Each side of the retort-house has a succession of arched 
recesses, each eight or ten feet high, six or seven wide, 
and about as many in depth. These recesses, when 
bricked or otherwise closed in front, form ovens or 
furnaces, in which fuel is burnt on a grate at the lower 
part Five, six, eight, or more oblong iron vessels, 
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 
4 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 tor about Hve 
hours, during which the fireplace is opened every hour 
for the renewal of the fuel (coke at tnese works) with 
which the retorts arc 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 



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 seemed 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-houses 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 is 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- 
densers, 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-houses, 
and within view from the entrance gates. One of 
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 4 gin-palace/ 
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 easily 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 from 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 



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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 each 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 to it distinct from the others. Directing our 
attention to one main only, we may state that after the 
gas leaves the gasometers 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 determined. So long 
as the pressure is such as is required, no changes are 
made ; out 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 obsennd, 
made in the • valve-room/ every main having its #d 
• 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 
teu feet square, and seven or eight feet nigh, 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 much elegance, and the motto, " ex fumo dare 
lucbm," expresses, not inappropiately, the light-giving 
object of the whole establishment All the gas made 
at the works passes 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 is 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 gas- 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 pro- 
cesses previous to its passage into the gasometers. The 
number of retorts worked varies at different seasons of 
the year, according 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- 



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 drawn ; 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 4 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 
preparation, or rather perfecting of the gas, demands 
but a small amount of manual labour ; it is 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 sets 
in rotation the arms or fans in the purifying 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, 
yet if the pipes are either too small or too large, if 
they are laid either too horizontal or too much in- 
clined, if any of the innumerable joints are imperfectly 
fitted, the most serious inconvenience results. The 
mains vary from three inches to eighteen inches 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 leading streets and 
thoroughfares ; while the smaller are tor the less im- 
portant lanes and streets. Where the streets are wide, 
and the number of lights required large, it is usual to 
lay mains on both sides 01 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 generally 
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 rhere a reservoir is formed, into which the liquid 
flows, and by the occasional use of a small pump from 
above the inconvenience is removed. 



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[February, 1842. 



How 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 1 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 
year 1814 there was only one gasometer at the West- 
minster station of the Chartered Company, then the 
only company in London ; and this gasometer held only 
fourteen thousand cubic feet. By the year 1822, 
according to a Report on the various gas-works, pre- 
sented 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 
feet 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 from a 
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 
9282 chaldrons, producing 111,384,000 cubic feet of 
gas. 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 
place in all the operations of the gas-manufacture. 
The Westminster station now contains about six hun- 
dred retorts; the twenty gasometers have an aggre- 



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 feet. 
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 eastern 
Temple-bar, the western Grosvenor-place, and the 
southern the Thames : the maze of squares, markets, 
streets, and lanes included within this boundary 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 
Cyclopaedia,' 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 
'■jlfaout it. The continental nations have slowly fol- 
ffied 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 nave 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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[Brazilian Indians.— From a Drawiug by Uugandas.] 



ABORIGINES OF BRAZIL. 

Thb 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 
eves 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 of 
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 Is- 
raelites ; by another, that the EgypAns 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- 
liefs near Guatemala ; the works of the ancient Peru- 

no. 637. 



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, consisting 
in some cases of a family, that is, of relations by blood 
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- 
gether." 

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 
the country ; but some of them belong only to small 



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clans, or even single families. The tribes which con- 
sist at most of a few families are chiefly found 
Bouth of the river Amazons, where the disruption of 
the population has been greatest. Such tribes, clans, 
or lam i lies 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 
applied to places over a large extent of country. Hum- 
boldt estimated the number of the copper-coloufed 
race in the two Americas at six millions, but the pro- 
portion existing in Brazil is not known. 

With the exception of the M uras, 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, and most of 
them rear poultry. Each tribe has its own plantation, 
which is cultivated 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 accdutrements, 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 securities of which they have any 
notion. 

A good idea of the daily mode of life amongst the 
Brazilian tribes is furnished by Dr. Von Marti us, in the 
following extract from 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, ears of 
maize, &c. in the ashes for breakfast A tame mon- 
key, or some other of their numerous domestic animals 
with which they play, 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, manufacturing 
nets, making earthenware, rubbing mandioca, and 
pounding maize, from which they make a cooling 
beverage. Others go to their little plantation to fetch 
maize, mandioca, and beans ; or into the forest to look 
for wild fruits and roots. When the men have finished 
their frugal breakfast, they prepare their bows, arrows, 
strings, &c. It is not till 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 



takes the narrow almost imperceptible footpaths, or goes 
directly across the forest If the object ot his journey 
is distant "he breaks branches of the shrubs as he goes 
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 slightly 
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 larvae of large insects roasted. They 
generally dine after the chace, about four o'clock. The 
inhabitants of the hut or arty 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 under a 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 
human nature under happier auspices is led to aspire. 
Drinking feasts, with dancing and singing, diversify 
the routine of savage life in Brazil. At tnese 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 fifteen feet high, and were from 
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 palm-leaves; the roof 
was made of palm-leaves and maize 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 ihe 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 



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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 New World awaken no admira- 
tion, and their minds are too infantile to 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 M artius 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 is 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 Pajes, who are priests, doctors, and conjurors, 
and form a distinct class, exercise a capricious and 
tyrannical power 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 SCIENCE IN 
MANUFACTURES. 

[From Dr. Gregory's ' Letter to the Earl of Aberdeen on the SUte of tho 
Schools of Chemistry in the United Kingdom.'] 

The 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 simple and cheap process for extracting soda from 
sea salt. Soda, as is well known, has been used, from 
time immemorial, for the manufacture of soap and 
glass, two products of the highest value to mankind. 
Indeed the use of soap is so essential 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 
feelings of comfort, nay, on the sense of the beautiful, 
which are inseparable from 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 tne middle ages, 
who concealed with costly spices and odours the offen- 
sive exhalations of their skin and of their clothes, which 
rarely came into contact with soap, indulged, it is true, 
in greater luxury in their sumptuous feasts 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- 
estimable blessing of the free admission of light to his 
dwelling, even in the coldest climate. It is not easy 
to exaggerate the value 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 for extracting soda from sea salt. France soon 



supplied herself at a cheaper rate than before ; manu- 
factories of soda, soap, ana 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 discovery 
was to create a very large 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 ot 
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 manufactories 
approach to theory, that 100 lbs. of sulphur, which by 
theory should yield 306 lbs. of sulphuric acid, do ac- 
tually vield 300 lbs. 

In tnis 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 bein^ able to withstand the action of the 
acid. The operation 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 
mere trifle, while the operation is so easy, that a child 
may perform it. Again, the acid was formerly con- 
centrated in enormous glass retorts ; these were ex- 
posed to breakage, occasioning heavy loss, and destroy- 
ing the furnaces; vessels of platinum are now used for 
concentrating the acid, and although these sometimes 
cost from 1000/. to 1500/. 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 discovery acts in many different 
ways, and always advantageously. 

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 wnich 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 besides the direct 

N2 



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effect of cheapening these acids, the introduction of 
nitrate of soda, by limiting the use of saltpetre to the 
making of gunpowder, for which nitrate of soda does 
not answer, has produced the indirect effect of cheap- 
ening gunpowder, the price of saltpetre necessarily 
falling as the demand for it diminished. This must 
be, in time, a material source of saving to govern- 
ments. 

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 tolls 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 
among 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 patents were taken out in England for 
recovering tne 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 tne impulse has been 
given, and Naples may ere long find good cause to 
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. Wnen 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 most 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 searsalt, 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- 
facture of soda from salt, was thrown away as worth- 
less, so 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 



[March 5, 

of chlorine were known, but had 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-powder 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. I 
need not do more than allude to the use of the bleach- 
ing-powder in paper-making, which is one great cause 
of the superior quality and low price of paper in 
Britain. 

Another important use to which the muriatic acid 
produced in the soda manufacture, and formerly 
thrown away, is now applied, 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 otner 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 its origin 
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 small 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 35>. for 50 lbs. of silver. The 
gold contained in the silver would not repay the ex- 
pense of extracting it, and was therefore allowed to 
remain, and to circulate in the silver, absolutely worth- 
less. But by means of sulphuric acid, cupellation is 
avoided ; the silver is refined at a most trifling cost, 
and the gold is obtained by the same operation : nay, 
even the copper, which was formerly lost, is now pre* 
served ; and although the gold only amounts to from 



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08 



pfoth to -ninth of the weight of the silver, yet as its value 
is about li per cent, of that of the silver, it not only 
repays the whole expense of refining, hut 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- 



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 nothing 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. 



[The Long Room.] 



THE CUSTOM-HOUSE. 



All the Western nations appear 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 
term, 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.d. 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 1359, 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- 
esd, Woolwich, Barking, Greenwich, Deptford, Black- 
will, Limehouse, Ratclrffe, Wapping, St. Katherine's, 
Tower Hill, Rotherhithe, Southward, London Bridge, 



and every of them .... shall be from 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- 
cnandise and produce could be shipped 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 
quays 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 ' Sufferance Wharfs,' of which five were east of the 
Tower and eighteen on the Surrey side of the river. 

The London Custom-house establishment of 1559 
consisted of ei^ht 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 20.000J. a year, but on the 
Queen's government taking the collection of the duties 



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[March 5, 



in its own hand, they yielded about 30,000/. 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 1( cording to D Avenant, 

the first inspect mports and exports, the 

customs of Eng 555,752/. a year. 

The old Custom-nouse, destroyed during the Great 
Fire, was replaced by one of rather more pretensions, 
which is said to have cost 10,000/., and was at least of 
more 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/. 
each year. In 1718 the Custom-house Has 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 commerce. 

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 towards 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,' extending nearly 
the whole length of the centre, being one hundred and 
twenty-seven feet long, twenty-nine wide, and twenty- 
four nigh. At the close of the century the revenue 
collected in the port of London exceeded 6,000,000/. 
On the 12th of February, 1814, this was also destroyed 
by fire, being the third Custom-house whose destruc- 
tion was caused by this element. The flames spread to 
the houses on the northern side of Thames Street, and 
in a short time ten were destroyed. Besides the loss 
of valuable property in the cellars and warehouses, 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 the discharge of 
cargoes, were suspended. The fire occurred on Satur- 
day, and by Monaay morning temporary arrangements 
were made for conducting the public business in the 
Commercial Sale Rooms, Mincing Lane. 

Several years before the occurrence of this fire the 
enlargement of the old Custom-house had been con- 
templated, and it was at 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 
estimates 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- 
diately 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 some other contingencies, was accepted. 



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 
41,700/. The old materials were sold for 12,400/. 

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 tb€ 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. 

The preliminary difficulties having been overcome, 
the first stone ol 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 Street, was 
plain and simple, but the south front, towards the 
river, assumed a more ornamental character, ihe cen- 
tral compartment projecting forward, and the wings 
having a hexastyle detached colonnade of the Ionic 
order. The attic of the central part of the building, 
comprising the exterior of the Long Room, was deco- 
rated with alto and basso relievos, in panels five feet 
three inches in height, representing in a series of alle- 
gorical figures the arts and sciences, commerce and 
industry, and characteristic figures of the principal 
nations with which Great Br J tain holds commercial 
intercourse. The dial- plate, nine feet in diameter, was 
supported by colossal figures of industry and plenty, 
and the royal arms were sustained by figures of ocean 
and commerce. The long room was one hundred and 
ninety-six feet 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 committee, in 1828, on 
the duties connected with the office of Works and Pub- 
lic Buildings, the failure of the building is somewhat 
harshly noticed, it 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 180,000/., 
in addition to the original expenditure of 255,000/.*' 
The total cost of the edifice has therefore amounted 
altogether to nearly half a 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 



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simplicity is pleasing, if not majestic. As the breadth 
of the quay is not equal 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-eight 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 
port conducted at the London Customhouse, but the 
board 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- 
general 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 beinjj frequently printed and 
made public by order of Parliament. 

Besides the warehouses and cellars, there are about 
one hundred and seventy distinct apartments iu the 
Custom-house, in which tne officers of each 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 each was required. All 
the rooms are perfectly plain, with the exception of the 
Board-room, which is slightly decorated, and contains 
paintings of George III. and George IV., the latter by 
Sir 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 ana fifty feet. 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- 

Sarative 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 %re 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 

Eublic 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 indoor 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 number, may be said to form three divisions :— -The 
inward department, with its collector, clerks of rates, 



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 Room with a desk 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. 

The 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 ©xford 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, Gerard us 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 tne countries of 
Europe, which he describes in. his • First Book of 
Travels.' The Second 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 in 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 to 
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, ne 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 



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those in the world, except Taprobane and Thule, by 
those who have formerly examined such matters, and 
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 Ave 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 tne city to the opposite inhabited bank, supported by 
stone cemented arches, and having also houses and tur- 
rets upon it. And one mav see ferrv-boats 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 arc built for the residence of the nobles and 
merchants, and lofty halls ornamented with florid 
paintings, are erected. Also in some parts of the citv 
very large royal palaces, ornamented in a very high 
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. Here 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 build shins, 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 
richlv 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 
see in the markets and streets of the city married 
women and damsels employed in arts, and oarterings 
and affairs 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 household 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 set 
apart, where there is daily an assemblage of merchants, 
from which there arise very extensive barterings and 
traffic/; 

Having 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. 



And they possess a peculiar language, differing in some 
measure from all others, having received contributions 
from almost all the rest, both in words and syllables, 
as I 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 drink in gs, and in pledgings of health and 
carousals, they differ in nothing from the French. 
And their nobles and rulers, and those in authority, 
arc 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 arc 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, Bome few only of the French merchants 
reside in the island, both because their kings, 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 
grandees 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 appoints 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 
targeteers, 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 aiRl head is of a 'golden hue ; their 
eyes blue, for the most part, and their cheeks are 
ruddy ; they are martial and valorous, and generally 
tall; flesh-eaters, and insatiable of animal food; sottish 
and unrestrained in their appetites; full of suspicion. 
But towards their king tney 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 binding oath 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 affaira, and relates 
some interesting particulars respecting the suppres- 
sion of monasteries; 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. 



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[The Plane Tree.— P*tanus Ortentalu., 



THE PLANE TREE. 



As an English tree there is nothing in the history of 
the plane which can interest the imagination. No 
legendary talc 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 great majority of persons than that of the 
last horticultural novelty. If we follow to their native 
Domes the two species of plane which are known in 
England, wc 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 Orientalis\ and the latter as 
the Occidental Plane (Platanus Occidentalism 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. 638. 



tne late frosts of spring prove highly injurious to it, 
blighting the young buds, and giving a ragged appear- 
ance to the foliage. In its native soil, especially in 
warm and moist situations on the banks of tne 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 ot 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 



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winier, in the form of little balls, arc 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 nas 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 lit only for furniture, as it is soon 
warped by the weather. Mr. Cobbett observes, in his 
* Woodlands,' that chopping-blocks in the butchers* 
shops throughout the United States are almost uni- 
versally of plane tree, aiid that they are preferred on 
account of tneir chipping less than other wood. 

The plane of either species may be regarded simply 
as 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. As a 
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 arc 
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 harmo- 
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 admits 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 
scenes 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 imported into England during the 
last few years, it has scarcely found its way among 



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- 
ceptions 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 
America which produce cheese of a better quality than 
that we are 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 each 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. 
Ihe characteristics of American cheeses consist in 
their greater diameter 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 
pungent or nr 4V ™ vu — *— 4 e, and in a bandage of 
linen or cotton ssed round their outward 

rim. * In some Lmericans have adopted 

modes and cus om ours and from those 

of other countries, ana Dy 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 inferior 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 cither 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 America, in proportion to that of butter and cheese, 
as the best pork is frequently of higher value, weight 
for weight, than the be3t 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 cream has 
been taken off it, a plan often adopted in some of our 
own dairies; and such cheeses arc 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 is 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 is 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 milk undergoes hardly any perceptible change ; 



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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 eves. 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 is 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, 
arc 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' cheese of New York, some- 
thing like what it is with the « Stilton* cheese in 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. 



Nome. — To be happy at home is th$ 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 lenown 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 snow in painted honour and fictitious benevolence.— Johnson. 



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 cliain 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 her 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 forced to seek their subsistence amongst the tiger's haunts, 
numerous casualties of course occurred, and I had frequent op- 
portunities of studying the liabits 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 seelcs 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 Sport* of India. 



The Landratl 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 alt 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 long 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 five 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 Thetsaly. — Occasionally we passed a piece 
of magnificent rye, in full ear at that earlv 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 com, 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 he knew to whom it belonged. " How can I 
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^lse." " 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 V asked, in 
reply, the equally astonished Albanian. *« If I sow corn there, 
the com 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 H May I come and 
turn out your flocks or sow seeds where you want to sow V* 
« Of course you may, if you can ; but if I sow com there, or 
feed my flocks there, I take good care to watch it, and not let 
you."— Captain Best's Excursions m AQxrma. 
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[Convoy of Diamonds from the Diamond District to Rio Janeiro.] 



DIAMOND CARRIERS. 
Thb diamond was formerly obtained only from the 
East Indies, but the mines in this quarter are itovr 
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 
to Africa, or imprisonment for life, with confiscation of 
property, being the punishment annexed to this offence ; 
but 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 
employed, 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 supply 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 



i 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 support 
a roof thatched with long grass. Down 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 slope from the canal 
of three or four inches to a yard. This 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 
so formed that water is admitted into them between 
two planks that are about an inch separate. Through 
this opening the current falls about six inches into the 
trough, and may be directed to any part of it, or stopped 
at pleasure by means of a small quantity of clay. 
Along the lower ends of the troughs a smalL channel 
is dug to carry off the water." The earthy 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 



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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 employed, they are en- 
gaged in protecting the places wnicn 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, wnen 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 Abaite*, 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 of 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, 71. to Si. per carat ; three to 
four grains, SI. to 9/. per carat ; five to six grains, 13/. to 
14/. per carat ; six grains, perfect, 17/. to 18/. ; weigh- 
ing two carats, 27/. to 30/. ; three carats, fine and well- 
formed, 70/. to 80/. ; four carats, 100/. to 130/. ; dia- 
monds weighing five carats are worth from 180/. to 
200/. ; and those of six carats, from 230/. to 250/. 

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. 
All other precious stones are cut and polished with the 
diamond ; cameos, intaglios, and seals are engraved ; 
and crystal for spectacles, agates for snuff-boxes, and 
window-glass are cut by it. 



IDENTITY OF PERSONS. 
It 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 »ome,of these may prove not only interesting, but of 
practical utility. 

Although, says Fodere, 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 eitner 
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, 
ousbanda, and wives have been thus led away by illu- 
sions—erroneously denying or maintaining the identity 
of their children, or of each other. 



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 freedman 
Publtcius; each of these persons 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 recommen- 
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 nis purchase 
as the most valuable of all his articles of vertti. 

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 sovereign 
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 
Boris, 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 himself died in a few years, and it was sus- 
pected that Boris had poisoned nim. With him the 
line 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 progress 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 so 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 



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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 thanyfce other impostors pretended afterwards 
to be Demetrius ; but into their history, or into that of 
the various wars and 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 bv 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 brutalitv, and stimulated by an im- 
mense reward, betrayed nim 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 pass 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 
BieCtre 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- 
pass their ends by insisting upon the personal resem- 
blance, but rather by natural address and a skilful 
employment of historical aud family facts, which could 
only have been acquired from a careful tuition. 

Cases 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. In that rich repertorium of 
legal lore, the Causes Celebres, 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 determined 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. The effrontery of Dutille well nigh 
disconcerted him, but upon direct personal compari- 
son the wife and sister at once acknowledged him as 
their relative. 



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 Mege, 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 advantageously. 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 
Moinc, 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 nad 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 lisping, to have a scar on 
his forehead, and a mark on his neck, all which cir- 
cumstances were observed regarding the prisoner. 
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 alibi. 
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- 



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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 perpetrator, and convicted upon the prosecutor's 
testimony ; but, owing to prior good conduct, he was 
recommended to mercy. A few days after, the gentle- 
man was horror-struck at meeting 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 mooted, as to 
what degree of light is essential 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 dyin§ ; 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 Drethren 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 
bis 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 
rights. 

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 
£rey 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; twid 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 



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 : 

u Danger, long travel, wont and wo, 
Soon change the form that best we know : 
For deadly fear can time outgo, 

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." 

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 liair 
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 cele- 
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 respecting the latter, laid 
great stress upon the existence of* a family likeness as 
one proof of identity. He says, " I 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 ; and in an army of a hundred thousand men, 
every 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 all these persons were illegitimate descendants of 
the Chancellor. 



SPRING BALANCES. 
The spring-balance is a machine in which the elas- 
ticity of a spring of tempered steel 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 



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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, closea 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, passes through a hole in the 
bottom of the tube, ana 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 is 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- 
pression produced in the spring by the application of 
icnown 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 lay 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 tne axis of the index, but at 
the back of the dial-plate, is a toothed^% ' ^.:l|^ ** 
turned by a straight rack attached to S ; pv|i , li^^od, 
which rises and falls with the s P r ing«:^^^^^^l re " 
mains in a vertical position when the Datance ' 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 especially 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 mea- 
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 power 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- 
ployed to draw it. In using a spring-dynamometer 
For 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 



of the piston and the cylinder, so that a considerable 
resistance is opposed to the motion of the piston and 
the springs, ana 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 to an index moving 
upon a circular dial-plate, is 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 upper extremity being firmly attached to the 
back of tne 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 spring 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 apparatus, contrived by M. Rea- 
mer, 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 weighing-machines which have 
been described. On account of the absence of weights, 
and the great simplicity of their application, spring- 
balances are very useful in cases where extreme accu- 
racy is 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 Cyclopcedia. 



1%e Steam-Engine.- — M. Delecluze nas 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 has 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, aud of which note the following is 
a translation : — K Invention of Archimedes. The Architonnerre 
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 instrument, and be 
immediately converted into a vapour so abundant and powerful, 
that it is wonderful to see its fury and hear the noise it produces. 
This machine will carry a ball a talent in weight." It is 
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. — GaUgnams Messenger. 



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**«***. 



iNingPo.] 



NING-PO 

Tijk events now occurring in China give, at the pre- 
sent moment, a temporary interest to places of that 
singular empire, of wnich, being political and warlike, 
our peaceful 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 
from the energetic display of British power and 
valour. 

One of such places is Ning-Po, the principal 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 leaveB 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 Tahoe 
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 the city. The 
town is enclosed with walls of freestone, but which, 

no. 639. 



according to Gutzlafl,* 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 rail, some 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 Gutalaff. These voyages were 
undertaken in trading-vessels, but Mr. Gutzlaff had for his 
peculiar object the conversion of the Chinese to the Christian 
faith. 



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grated to Siam and Batavia carry on a similar com- 
merce to a considerable extent. A great number of 
junks arc 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, Fuhkeen hall. This was an extensive building, 
with spacious rooms, adorned with Chinese pictures 
and idols. A very sumptuous supper was served up 
in the evening, 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- 
ceived 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 and the Kin, neither of which supplies 
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 line 
across the city) may be about ten or twelve thousand 
toiscs, 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 loot 
of the mountains, is separated into three branches, and 
is about five or six tnousand 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 (he 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 
great number of trees which bear tallow (the Croton 
sebifera). 

"The air is also everywhere wholesome, and the 
country pleasant and open. The sea supplies a great 
quantity 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 yellow fish, 
which are much sought after on account of their deli- 
cate taste ; but as they will not keep long out of water, 
ihey 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 necessary : 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 
for their labour. . Even in tne 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 M ileum's 
4 Oriental Commerce,' the oppression the English 
traders were subject to compelled them to abandon it. 
The recent capture of Ning-Po may perhaps enable 



the project to be realised on more equal terms than 
could else have been obtained, and we may venture to 
hope that the benefits arising from the introduction of a 
higher and more humanising civilization, may com- 
pensate the unfortunate sufferers, and their posterity, 
for the evils inflicted upon them by war. 



THE PASTON LETTERS.* 

The 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 established government 
Their origin also is connected with the assertion of 
principles which in subsequent times led to the esta- 
tlishment 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 merely 
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 of their 
government at home and the splendid career of their 
arms abroad combined to make the people generally 
peaceable and satisfied. Richard II. was a wretchedly 
incompetent prince. His inexperience, the imbecility 
of his character, his dissoluteness and extravagance, 
disgusted 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 order to maintain even 
the appearance of government Society was disor-j 
ganised ; one part preying upon another without re-/ 
8traint Richard's deposition was justified by his weakV 
ness and folly. Henry's title to the throne was not in- 
deed sanctioned by the notions of succession which then 
Erevailed ; 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 sustained in France, 
were fruitful sources of popular dissatisfaction, and 
prepared the way for the Duke of York, the lineal 
neir, 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," says Hume, " incessantly 
streamed with the noblest blood of England, spilt in 
the quarrel between the two rival families." During 
these wars the ancient 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 

* « Original Letters written during the reigns of Henry VI., 
Edward IV., and Richard III., by various persons of rank or 
consequence. By Sir John Fbnn, M.A., F.AJS. A New Edi- 
tion, by A. Ramsay/ In Two Volumes. 



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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 treacherousdishonourable conduct in all parties." 
It was during these civil broils, i.e. in .the 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 1789. 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. 
J y 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 m 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 value 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 enable 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 
moved, and the results to which it has been directed, is 
the great office of history. We care not whether they 
are public documents 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 as constitute a great and 
important part of the vast mass of breathing and moving 



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 serious 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 interest, 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 
from a citizen. He had no claims from birth and blood 
to sustain him in the high position in which his abilities 
had placed him. His elevation, therefore, gave deep 
offence to a proud and haughty aristocracy, in whose 
estimation descent was the first element or 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 far-sighted in 
affairs ; and not unversed in such literature as the day 
possessed ; but he was base, treacherous, selfish anil 
grasping, arbitrary and tyrannical, and apt to stretch 
his power to the utmost 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 
banishment— would wish to press upon the attention of 
his son. It demonstrates that Suffolk was like many 
others, who, regardless of virtue themselves, are never- 
theless anxious that their 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 : — 

44 My dear and only well-beloved son, I beseech our 
Lord in Heaven, the Maker of all the World, to bless 
you, and to send you ever grace to love him, and to dread 
him, to the which, as far as a father may charge his 
child, I both charge you, and pray you to set 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 (whenever) any 

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frailty maketh you to fall, beseech his mercy soon to call 
you to him again with repentance, satisfaction, and con- 
trition of your heart, never more in will to offend hiin. 

" 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 prosperity of his most royal 
person, but that as far as your body and life may stretch, 
ye live and die to defend it, and to let his nighness 
have 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, I charge 
you in any wise to flee the company and counsel "of 



proud men, of covetous men, and of flattering men, 
the more especially and mightily to withstand them, 
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 such as be of good 
conversation, and of truth, and by them shall ye never 
be deceived nor repent you of. 

" Moreover, never follow your own wit 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 eartn, 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, yn 
and they may glorify hiin eternally amongst his angels 
in Heaven." 

To be oontinued.] 



LTlie Pillon dci Hnllei, Pari*.] 



THE PILLORY 



i 



Thb 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 reign 
of Henry VII. is given in a collection of prints pub- 
lished by the Society of Antiouaries ; and in Doucc's 
• Illustrations of Shakspere* there are no less than six 



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specimens. The following cut, from Fox's ' Martyrs,* 
represents Robert Ockham standing in the pillory in 
the reign of Henry VIII. The pillory of later Jays 
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 platform, 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 bylaw, but usually 
assigned at the discretion of the judge. The form of 
the judgment was, that " the defendant should be set in 
and upon the pillory." The ' Pillcri 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 octagon stone building, 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 orutal public 
retaliation. In 1812 a 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, tne 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 the 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 4 Hymn to the Pillory/ 
which was very extensively read at the time, and has 
been reprinted on occasions when offenders sentenced 



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, 
Fulls back where first the motiou was begun : 
And he who for no crime shall on thy brows appear, 
Bears less reproach than they who placed him tlierc." 

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 machine. 
Contrived to punish fancy in ; 
Men that are men in thee can feel no pain, 
And all thy insiguificants disdain. 
Contempt, that false new word fur 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 degrade, the 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's 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. 



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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 light, arc 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- 
pose. 

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 early 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 Lacedaemon, 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 braziers 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 by 
clocks or hour-glasses, but by burning matches, which 
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 ages, 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 explanation, by which 
this ascent of the oil is traced to the action of capillary 
attraction, is 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 
lamps dug up in every country which was once under 
the Roman yoke, indicate the prevalent use of those 
articles eighteen or twenty centuries ago. Beckmann 
lias 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 
early nations. There was a particular festival of the 
Egyptians, during which lamps were placed before all 
the houses throughout the country, and kept burning 
the whole night. During that festival or 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 had been defeated, 
lamps and torches were lighted in all the streets in 
honour of him. The emperor Cons tan tine caused the 



whole city of Constantinople to be illuminated with 
lamps on Easter- eve. 

Whatever might be the material or the form of the 
vessel, or whatever fibrous substance may have been 
used as a wick, if liquid oil constituted the inflam- 
mable ingredient, the instrument was a l<xmp; indeed 
the rude lamp of the Esquimaux and the • Argand * 
and ' solar' lamps of our own country, are but the two 
extremes of a cnain, 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 a candle. 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 peeled 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 drachms, 
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 tnat the name comes from the French 
lanterne, which is itself derived from the Latin laierna, 
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 nouses, 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 illumina- 
tion are so greatly behind our lamps, and produce 
more smoke than light." 



WINDSOR, AS IT WAS. 

My earliest recollections of Windsor are exceedingly 
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 in a 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 domestic 
habits of George III. The whole range of the castle, 
its terrace, and its park, were places dedicated to the 
especial pleasures of a school-boy. Neither warder, 
nor sentinel, nor gamekeeper interfered with our 
boisterous sports. The deserted courts of the upper 



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quadrangle often re-echoed, on the moonlight winter 
evenings, with our whoo-whoop ; and delightful hiding 
places indeed there were amongst the deep 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 
only personages who were disturbed by our revelry ;— 
and 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 
of the picturesque! Then, indeed, I knew nothing 
about 

" The rtately brow 
Of Windsor's heights," — 

nor could I bid the stranger 

" TV expanse below 
Of grove, of lawn, of mead iurvey." 

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 man. 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 praised, my ear had not been 
shattered, 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, M 

injght 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 many a 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 squires, 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 habite of the court There was as little 
parade as can well be imagined in all the move- 
ments of George IN. and his family ; and there was 
infinitely more state at such places as Stowe and Aln- 
wick than in the royal lodge at Windsor. The good 
man and his amiable family, perhaps, as a matter of 
policy, carried this freedom of manners to a little 
excels ; and it was from this cause that the constant 
attacks of Peter Pindar, in which the satire is levelled 



not only against the most amiable of weaknesses, but 
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. I have no recollection 
of having, when a child, seen the king with any 
of the appendages of royalty, except when he went to 
town, once a week, 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 pro/ound 
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 generals, 
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 some 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 commenced at the early age of seven 
years, amidst this royal fellowship in fun ; and most 
loyally 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 
play-goings. 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 backwards, through a little door, 
into the stage-box, with a 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 displayed, and the 
dingy green curtain drew up. 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 performances 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 
a dim recollection of having danced in the little garden 
which was once the moat of the Round Tower, and 
which Washington Irving has been pleased to imagine 



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existed in the time of James I. of Scotland. I have 
a perfect remembrance of a fSte 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 young 
ladies caught cold, and the sandwiches were scarce and 
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 and 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 Chambers 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. Windsor Castle, 
as it was, was a sad patchwork affair. Elizabeth took 
great pains to make it a royal residence, according to 
the notions of ber time; but there were marly 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 and additions, wherein, amo-igst 
divers curious matters illustrative of the manneis 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 tne great scandal of 
her Majesty's most spotless court, &c. Charles II. 
caused Verrio to paint nis crimson and azure gods and 
goddesses upon the 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 previous to the complete remodelling under 
George IV., was frightfully incommodious. The pas- 
sages 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 III. took a fancy 
to occupy the Castle himself, from rinding 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 hia 
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 
attend the loss of liberty. 

[To be continued.] 



Emigration, — Many thousand persons every year leave tne 
United Kingdom for some one or other of the BritUh Colonies, 



in most of which an industrious man mav 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 imjirove 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 
possible, the new circumstances in which he is about to place 
himself. 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 
C' lie 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 
proceedings are directed by instructions from the Secretary of 
State for the Colonial Department. The practical duties of the 
Commissioners may be divided under tliree 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 lands 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. % Whenever nervous of tlie 
labouring class proceed to the colonies at the public expense, it 
is entrusted to the Commissioners to see, first, that they have not 
been induced to emigrate by publications improperly represent- 
ing the advantages which await them ; next, that they are of 
the description required in the colony to which they are going ; 
thirdly, tnat 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 part ; and to see that the provisions of the 
Passengers 1 Act are duly carried out and enforced. 3. It is the 
proviuce 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 Coloiues, and 
affecting the interest of any description of persons who propose 
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 any 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 wnencver applied 
to for that purpose, they see that all agreements between ship- 
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.' 1 



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[TnoMsoir and hit Localities —At top. the Port, from a Portrait by J. Paton. On the left, a view of Keto Abbey Chureh, from a Paiotiug by 
Nasmyth. On the right, Jedburgh Abbey, from 11 Paiuting by Arnaid. At bottom, the Thamei from Richmond Hill, from a Drawing by Tora- 
blreon.] 



LOCAL MEMORIES OF GREAT MEN. 

Thomson. 

If 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. 



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 present 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- 



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[March 26, 



prances. His 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 indeed em- 
browning in the sun ; and we see 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 line harmony with his works, possess- 
ing the same variety of beauty and grandeur, an'd for 
the most part calculated by their traditional and histo- 
rical memories to nourish a poet'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 wher 
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 remained at his studies. A rsl 

rude conception of the ' Seasons m 

entitled • On a Country Life, bj li- 

versity ;' but if the poet had pla an 

this essay, he must have been sa he 

next effort was somewhat more a- 

milton, the divinity professor of ig 

given Thomson the 119th Psal he 

made, though in prose, so poetical a paraphrase oi 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 delighted ears, 
that if the poet came to London, his merit would doubt- 
less be rewarded. But a short time elapsed 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 
embarked 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 flung, 
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 to g*> 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 somewnat amusing 
idea of the simplicity oi Thomson's character. From 
all that we subsequently perceive of his unworldly 
character, it is evident that not Goldsmith's immortal 
Moses himself presented a much fairer mark for the 
wiles of the crafty and dishonest than the young stu- 
dent, Scotchman though he was. His sensitiveness pro- 
bably prevented hiin from sending for new letters ; and 

• ' Pictorial England/ vol. ir., p. 800, 



from this and other circumstances he seems to have 
had some, perhaps a great deal, of pecuniary anxiety. 
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 poet, 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 coffee-house, situated facing: the water side, be- 

mersmith, 
le habit of 
ison, when 
g country 
lenticated, 
•esent day. 
ems which 
this work, 
n Collins, 
ssured ine 
» first hint 
le title of 
iblished in 
fd till the 
author of 
attention 
l rose into 
riends and 
» received 
1 Summer' 

lollowed in "" — x '"'iring' in 1728, and 

•Autumn' i as dedicated to the 

Countess oi intercession Savage 

was indebte son once spent some 

months at tl lady, but, according 

to JohnBon, carousing with her 

lord so mud rith her, that he was 

never a— : - — "'e must not quit the • Seasons * 

withoul Thomson adds another instance 

to the i uthors, from Shakspere down- 

wards, wno nave snown tne 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 drama. 
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 ! M — 
there was often irrepressible laughter where the poet 
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 Sigismunda,' but even that is now 
never acted, and probably not often read. The ' Castle 
of Indolence,' on the contrary, the last piece published 
in the author's lifetime, is only less popular than the 

+ * History of FulbaraV 

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• Seasons,' whilst it no doubt possesses for many readers 
even a superior charm. This poem 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 me exception of the first line, by Lord 
Lyttleton, the attached friend of Thomson,— 

u 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 laugh'd he careless in bis easy seat ; 
Here quaff'd, encircled with the joyous train, 
Oft moralizing sage ; his ditty sweet 
He loathed much to write, ne cared to repeat/' 

With what propriety Thomson introduced himself 
into the 'Castle of Indolence/ we may judge from 
various anecdotes. He was not accustomed to rise 
until noon, and when once asked by an acquaintance 
who found him a-bed even later than usual, why he did 
not 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 disconcerted 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 been 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 hundred 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 Lyttle ton's ob- 
taining for him the post of Surveyor-generalship of the 
Leeward Islands, worth 300/. a year. His residence at 
this period was amidst the beautiful scenery of Rich- 
mond; and here he used 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 comes 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 

Sirden consisted of before, so that the walk runs round 
e hedge, where you may figure me walking any time 
of the day, and sometimes in the night," 



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 Hammersmith, 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 nis honour. There, too, she 
set up his bust, with the simple but eloquent words, — 

M 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 poet 
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 beauties 
of nature, he painted their images as they rose in re- 
view, and poured the whole profusion of them into his 
inimitable * Seasons.' 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 only by his death, which happened at this 
place on the 27th day of May, 1748." 



THE PASTON LETTERS. 

[Concluded from p. 103.] 

One of the most curious documents in these volumes 
is a catalogue of a gentleman's library, John Pastons, 
in the time of Edward IV. It contains nine volumes, 
each consisting of several tracts or books bound to- 
gether. The books are principally poetry and iictiou ; 
with a little history, a little law, a little religion, and a 
good deal of heraldry. There are, however, two tracts 
of Cicero'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 
20*. GcL 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 or which might be done in 
a day. For transcribing a • Treatise of War, in four 
books,' containing sixty folio leaves, the expense was 
ten shillings. At this time the common wages of a 
mechanic were sixpence a day j the price of wheat, a 

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shilling the bushel ; of barley, iivepence ; 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 
Hie trade to take into tne account But one printed 
ivolume is put down in the catalogue of J. raaton's 
/library. Printing was then in its infancy, books were 
j rarely 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 higner and many of the 
middle 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- 
garet 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 frQm the letters of 
modern fine ladies, the staple commodity of which are 
theMast 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 a/id 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 
characteristic ; and therefore both serve as pictures of 
their respective times. The education of the softer sex 
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 mysteries 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- 
mined in promoting them ; but she held the reins of 
parental discipline with a tight and resolute hand, 
tier 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 feeling, 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 
in a very pleasing and amiable light : — 

" 1 am afraid that John of Sparham is so schyttyl 
(light) witted, that he will set his goods to mortgage to 
Heydon, or to some other of your good friends, but if 
(unless) I 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 (6/. 13*. 4d.) that 



Sparham owed to him ; and in good faith he bath 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 I suppose he will neither sell nor set to 
mortgage, neither cattle nor other goods of his, till he 
speak with you ; he" suppose th that all that is done to 
him is at the request of the parson of Sparham and 
Knatysale. I 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 goeth at large ; he was arrested at Sparham, of one 
of Knatysale's 111611." 

We cannot abstain from inserting an extract from 
another of this lady's letters. It is addressed to one ol 
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 nevep the less of him,*' because he was a 
countryman and a neighbour :— 

" Wherefore I pray you heartily, if it be no disease 1/ 
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 vou forth with him, I hold me pleased, for 
I >est purvey for him, and for such 

tl for him, than another should do, 

aner mine intern. As for any horse to lead his gear, 
methink 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 snail be ; howbeit I would not that he 
should make never the less of him, by cause he is his 
countryman and neighbour ; and also 1 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 welJ, 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 tne contrary, for often rape (haste) rueth. 
I will love him better to be a good secular man than a 
lewd (ignorant) priest." 

We might say more about these volumes, and pro- 
duce more passages from them ; but enough has been 
written ana 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 appended by the editor, are well and judiciously 
executea. 



Conversation, — There must, in the first place, be knofrf wlfi - 
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 uot 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. 



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[Brigands.— From Pine'.li.] 



MODERN BRIGANDS. 



Moobrn Italy, though unhappily never wholly free 
from brigands, has not seen such numerous and for- 
midable associations as those of Marco Scianra 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 popular 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 Sicily, the Calabrians flew to arms. Instead of 
a general, toe 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, 
< n 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 Naple8, 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 tne moun- 



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tains. Unhappily this march of the army of legitimacy 
and holy faith, headed by a prince of the holy empire, 
was marked with blood and plunder. Ruffo himself 
was no butcher, as he has been represented, but he 
could establish no discipline among the sudden levee 
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 mountaineers 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 people were enthusiastic royalists. With the 
array of the Faith still further increased by volunteers 
from the Basilicata mountains, Ruffo descended into 
the plains of Apulia, and laid siege to the strong and 
important city of Altamura, which was defended by a 
strong 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 exposed for three days to all the horrors and atro- 
cities that in the worst times and countries attend such 
a sort of victory. 

Other armies of the Faith, each of them including 
a certain number of daring; and lawless ruffians, 
had either taken the field before or began operations 
now. A priest of the Abruzzi — the far-famed Abate 
or Abb6 Froni— 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 armies 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 
letter could go one way or the other unless escorted 
by a little army. Fra Diavolo and his men always oc- 
cupied the deep defiles through which the road runs 
for several miles; and while they were hid among 
the rocks and thickets, their scouts, chiefly their 
women, who excited no suspicion, were posted along 
the road on either side to give notice of the approach 
of any travellers. These women, in their picturesque 
dresses, were always seen with their distaffs in their 
hands, walking along, singing and spinning their flax, 
apparently engaged in the most innocent of occupa- 
tions : it was pleasant to the eye to meet them, and not 
unpleasant to the ear, for they generally gave a bless- 
ing to the wayfarers 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 



them to have met dragons or she hyeenas in their path. 
A few miles from Itri, the head-quarters of Fra Dia- 
volo, in the same province of Terra di Lavoro, Gaetano 
Mammone, a miller of Sora, a pleasant little town on 
the Garigliano, collected another band, some 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 tell 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 Pietro 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 allies 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, 
as to the qualities of moderation and mercy, between 
the French generals Duhesme, Broussier, and the 
native Neapolitan republican general Ettore Carafi'a, 
and the royalist partizans or brigands, Abate Proni, 
Fra Diavolo, Mammone, and the rest. During their 
brief ascendency and triumph, the French and their 
partizans had hunted down the royalists like wild 
oeasts, and had committed detestable atrocities at San 
Severo, Bovino, Andria, and many other places in 
Apulia, and on the confines of that extensive province. 
Ettore Carafi'a, 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 fiet be- 
longing to his noble house, and as he still had some 
property 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 hid 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, Caraffa 
recommended that it should be burned alBO ; 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 made a hell of all that smiling Adriatic 
coast long before Cardinal Ruffo had passed the 
first defile in the Calabrias, and Colletta excuses 
their atrocities in describing the losses they sustained 
and the obstinate resistance they encountered in these 
Apulian towns. 

When the Cardinal was preparing to march with 
his now greatly increased army across the Apennines 



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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 Vendue. 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 ot 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 Naples as a con- 
queror. The counter-revolution was terrible ; the Lai- 
zaroni of the citv joined the Calabrians and Apulians, 
and surpassed tnem in cruelty; and when the court 
returned from Sicily (Queen Carolina was more 
king than her indolent careless husband, and was 
Bister to 
French r 
cial tribi 
which th 
Several c 

able reputations, received regular commissions, rroni 
was made a colonel, and so was the monster Main in one. 
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 curiously 
effected, did not last long. 

[To be continued.] 



WINDSOR, AS IT WAS. 

[Concluded from page 1 12.] 

Thb late king and his family had lived at Windsor 
nearly thirty years, before it occurred to him to in- 
habit his own castle. The period 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 to the John Bull ism of the day — his straight-forward 
and earnest piety — and the ease with which he appeared 
to put off the farmer, and put on the soldier, — each 
ana 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 ; ana 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 ot those of two or three years. 

At nine o'clock the sound of martial music was 
Heard in the streets. 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 
to countenance them. Of the former regiment George 



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 form 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 trumpet and of drum was heard in the 
streets of Windsor ; for the regiments paraded in the 
Castle quadrangle. The troops occupied the whole 
square. At about ten the Jdng 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 military pomp 
did not end in what is called (he upper quadrangle. 
In the lower ward, at a very humble distance from 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, 
. circumstance which gave a tone to my imagina- 
which I would not resign for many earthly gifts, 
I lived in a place where the cathedral service was 
and beautifully performed. Many a frosty winter 
ng have I sat in the cold choir of St. George's 
^napel, 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 sweetest of 
organs, or entranced by the divine melody of the Nunc 
DimiltiSt 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. I admire— 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 go 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- 
gination, and through that channel reaches the heart. 
In 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 
parts of Ely ; but by its perfect and symmetrical beauty. 
The 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. 
As a boy I thought the Order of the Garter was a 
glorious thing ; 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 kntow that even Edward the Black 
Prince was a ferocious and cruel spoiler of other men's 
lands ; and that all his boasted meekness and magnanU 



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mity was a portion of the make-believe of those ages 
when the people were equally trampled upon by the 
victor and the vanquished. When, 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 I 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, so 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 Conolanus) ; 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 
Heard 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 cnaises 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, I 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 his 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 amidst the crush, till the royal 
party should descend from their dining-room,— smil- 
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. 

After a 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. In a 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 ; and a 
somewhat Asiatic stillness seemed to usurp the reign 
of the old free and familiar intercourse of the sovereign 
with the people. The state apartments were partially 
shown. They were then somewhat dingy rooms with 



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 appliea was a touching reality. 
Next to St. George's Hall there was a guard-cham- 
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 arrange- 
ment, in every particular, it carried the imagination 
back three centuries. That occasion was when George 
III. closed his long years of Buffering, 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 
reality connected with their appearance in that place 
vanished from my view, and l 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 Village* of Arabia. — The village of Jennat may give 
an idea of all the mountain villages. TTie houses, built of stone* 
roughly cut, and 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 stopped 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. — Bottat 
Travel* ; from the French. 



Mode of Preparing Perfumed Oil* 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, ami 
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 feet 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 
is a 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 in a mill ; the oil is then expressed, and possesses 
most fully the scent of the flower. The oil is kept in prepared 
skins called dubber*, and is sold at so much per seer. The Jas- 
mine and Beta are the two flowers from which the natives in this 
district chiefly produce the scented oil ; the Ctoumbtd is another. 
Distillation is never made use of for this purpose, as it is with the 
roses; foe exrreme heat (from its being in the middle of the rains, 
wneu the trees come into flower) would most likely carry off all 
the scent. The Jasmine, or Chvmbele, as it is called, is used very 
largely amongst the women, the hair of the head, and the body, 
being daily smeared with some of it. — A italic r ournal. 



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CHURCH-CLOCK FACTORY AND BELL-FOUNDRY. 



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[March, 1842. 



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- 
chi.iery, 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 may 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 
therefore be as well to state at once, that when a 
church tower exhibits four clock-faces, all at equal 
height, and opposite to the lour points of the compass, 
all the hands arc 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 similar 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 a church 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 ; tne loopholes through which 
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 is a 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. j 

Our frontispiece is so drawn as to show the general | 



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)t 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 is 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- 
nism 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 heavy 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 connected 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 Mould be found to contain the 
same 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 t\ie 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 
facilities as may be necessary for our present purpose. 
Messrs. Moore and Co., at their clock-factory in 
Clerkcnwell Close, have preserved a list of the chuicb 
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 



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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 
by a 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 factory. Whoever has seen a watchmaker at 
work, must nave observed the extreme minuteness of 
his tools 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 
so 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 
nieces. In the wheel-cutting shop is carried on the 
beautiful 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 which 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 machinery. 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, but by elevating an iron weight to the 
height of the clock ; almost every child knows that the 
little pocket- watch, whose tickings excite such astonish- 
ment in his mind, is * wound up * by means of a very 
small 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 common clock be stopped, the clock is stopped at 
the same moment; and that the movement of the clock 
is renewed when the oscillations of the pendulum are 



renewed. Hence many persons may suppose that the 
pendulum 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 erroneous. 
In both these cases of stoppage, the rotating wheel-work 
is checked by a small piece 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 pocket- 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 steel-spring, which becomes coiled up very 
tightly by the rotation of the fusee 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 mechanism. 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 house- 
clocks, there is no such spring as that alluded to in the 
last paragraph. There is a line or rope, descending 
perpendicularly from a particular part. of the wheel- 
work, and having an iron weight suspended from 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- 
lion of the barrel; but this obstruction being removed, 
the barrel rotates so lon$j as the weight descends ; and 
this rotation is communicated, by toothed wheels, to 
other mechanism. When the weight descends to the 
floor, or when all 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 weight 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 is 
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 each two windings ; 
and is, in a church-clock, very considerable. At the 
Liinehouse 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 assemblage 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 nere is to say a few words respecting the 
wheel-work generally. 

Almost every wheel in a clock has teeth or notches 

It 2 



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[March, 1842. 



cut in its circumference. Sometimes these teeth 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 mechanism, for communi- 
cating motion from one wheel to another; pulleys, 
straps, and bands being inconsistent with the minute- 
ness of a clock or watch. In some 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 generally 
attained. If, for instance, a wheel with fifty teeth work 
into a pinion of ten teeth, the pinion will rotate five 
times as fast as 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- 



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 in the shops of the 
factory. There are lathes for giving to the wheel a 
perfectly true periphery, by means of sharp steel tools j 
various pieces of mechanism for shaping, smoothing, 
and polishing every part of the surface ; and, lastly, a 
very beautiful engine for cutting the teeth. 

The 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 either 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 ease, the pressure or contact 
being regulated by a lever which the workman moves 
with his right hand. Cutters of various shapes and 



CWheel-cuUing Engine.] 



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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 
little, 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, is marked with a great number of concentric 
circles, each of which is divided 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. If a 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 into one of the little 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, m 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 
means of making its indications conspicuous from be- 
low. The four clock-faces at Limehouse church, for 
example, are each thirteen feet 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 generally 
painted 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 seen 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- 



stances it is made of copper, painted and gilt in a more 
or less ornamental manner. Others are made of slate ; 
and in some 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 dial-plates 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 a common vertical pocket-watch we see 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 bv the general 
name of the 'icapement; and however different in ap- 
pearance, the object is the same as that attained by the 
pendulum of a clock. A spring with a given degree 
of tension, and a pendulum of a given length, each re- 
quires a certain time 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 
it; 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 thirteen 
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 
pendulum, from the law which governs its movements, 
has a tendency to make all its oscillations in equal 
time, it acts as a regulator to the motion of the wheels, 
and gives it uniformity. As a ball, rolling down an 
inclined plane, would move more and more rapidly 
every second, so would the rotation of the wheels in a 
clock increase in rapidity every second, were it not 
that the pendulum absorbs, as it were, all this increase 
olfcvelocity 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 



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graduated arc to measure the extent of the vibrations, 
wnich 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. We 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. 
Every 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, propor- 
tioning the number of strokes to the hour of tne day ; 
others, in addition to this, announce the quarters, by 
two, four, eight, or some other number of bells, all 
bearing a certain musical relation oue to 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 v<<ry rare exceptions indeed, 
have a bell on which the he \r is struck. 

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 hammer to strike the bell. But to cause 
exactly an interval of an hour to elape between two 
such strikings, and to make the number of blows on 
each occasion correspond with the hour of the day, re- 
quire mechanism almost as complicated as tliat by 
which the indications of the hands are produced. Still 
greater is this complication when the clocks chime the 
quarters; 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 last-named 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 elicited, except by blows 
from a heavy hammer, the moving-power of the strik- 
ing machinery greatly exceeds that of the going-train. 
In the Limehouse clock the going weight 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«e 
which winds round a solid wooden barrel, of nearly tne 
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, is 
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 



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 




[Striking-apparatus 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 
given by the hammer on the bell ; and at another time 
long 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 so elaborate as to produce a musical chime 
or a melody at stated intervals, then we have thos*e 
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 arc 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 tunes 
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 



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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 
belb. Every pin moves a lever with sufficient force 
to enable the hammer to strike the bell ; 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 more readily 
understood by persons unaccustomed to machinery. A 
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 played by one barrel, this 
primitive mode is inefficient. The 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. 

* Reid, < Treatise on Clock and Watch Makirg.' 



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 arc 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. The 
new " Great Tom of Lincoln" (twelve thousand pounds) 
replaced, in the year 1835, the old bell of the same 
name, which was not so heavy by a ton. 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. (See 

* 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 to the foundry 
in blocks from the mining districts, and the copper is 
old ship-sheathing and other fragments. These two 
metals are melted 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 application 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. All these arrangements being made, and the 
clay thoroughly dried, the outer layer or case is lifted 
off the intef mediate 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 



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[March, 1842. 



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 
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 from your brow, 
Ceaseless must the sweat-drop flow. 
If by his work the master 's known, 
Yet Hearen mustsend the blessing down. 



Billet of the fir-wood take, 
Every billet dry and sound. 
That flame, a gathered 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 is a 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 bella 
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 mouth 
of each mould. 

The bell is cast in a complete state, but it requires 
a little adjustment to regulate its tone. 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 ia 
made by chipping away the metal with a sharp-pointed 
hammer 



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*' Like a flourishing young gallant, newly come to his laud, 
Who keeps a brace of painted madams at bi« commani." 

Ou> avd Youzro Courtier. 



DECAY OF THE OLD FORMS OF HOSPI- 
TALITY AND CHARITY. 

Wk 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- 

{>rov ement had its influence not only on manners as a 
iving 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 now greatly the combined influ- 
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. 



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 
supported them directly in rude plenty, now maintained 
independent artisans, who derived their subsistence 
not from a 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 

Seriod when Henry VII. put an end to the wars of the 
Loses, and their altered cnaracter M^the close of Eli- 
zabeth's reign, would alone accofct 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 Paulc's," in 1548, we have an account 
of the alteration which had taken place in the course 
of half a century, for the battle of Blackheath, to which 

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he alludes, was fought in 1497. 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 had 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 
kinc. He was able, and did find Che 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 
Blackheath field. He kept me to school, or else I had 
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 ne 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 trie poor." 

The advance of rent in fifty years, from 4/. to 16/., 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 preached, 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 26*. Sd. of money of the pre- 
sent day, but the pound of 1548 was worth only 17*. 8d. ; 
so that the real advance of rent was in reality from 5/. 
6s.Sd. to 14/. 2*., or about 160 instead of 400 per cent. 
This advance, Mr. Jacob says, corresponds with the 
general advance of prices in all commodities. Still, 
the 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 
periods, fell in. In the interval they would be strug- 
gling 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 
either it sweeps them ruthlessly away, or they are 
maintained at an expense far beyond their real worth. 
But there was another class whom a period such as 
the one under contemplation irresistibly raises into in- 
creased importance. While consumers were driven tor 
the practice of greater economy, the class of producers 
were stimulated to increased exertion; and though 
both elasses 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 
position than at the commencement of the change. 
We know, from a tract published thirty years after 
Latimer preached his sermon at Paul's Cross, that the 
landowners 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 200/. a 
year, keep up the Same style of living, which no farther 
than sixteen years before (1563) they could have kept 
on two hundred marks (133/. 6*. 8rf.). 

We thus see how necessarily and inevitably the 
forms of ancient hospitality underwent an alteration 
during the period of these chances ; and they were not 
loss influential in modifying the old charitable cus- 



toms of the age. The custom of relieving the poor at 
the gate, so far from alleviating the evils of pauperism, 
raised it to a 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 pauperism which threatened to overwhelm the 
land ; but it was not until whips and brands and other 
harsh and ignominious punishments had been in vain 
employed, that a more rational mode of treating the 
evil was adopted. With a compulsory law for relieving 
the poor, men closed tighter tne purse-strings of pri- 
vate charity. Thus, at the close of the sixteenth cen- 
tury, hospitali 1 the forms 
under which t present day, 
though, to the ig Courtier/ 
who lived pei the reign of \ 
Elizabeth, that >llence as the 
age of hospital Dgenarian of 
the year 1800 imu witnessed & great aeeiine 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 
remarkable for the decline of old fashions, which were 
laughed out of use or silently neglected. 

The most immediate effect of this change would be per- 
ceived in the young heirs and their 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 aissolute 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 : — 

" Tins comes of wearing 

Scarlet, gold-lace, and net-works! your fine gartering*, 

With your blown roses, cousin! and your eating 

Pheasant and godwit, here in London, haunting 

The Globes and Mermaids, wedging in with lords, 

Still at the table, and affecting letchery 

In velvet." 

In another piece, 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 exclaims, — 

«* There, drop my wardship, 
My pupillage and vassalage together ; 
And Liberty, come throw thyself about me, 
In a rich suit, cloak, hat, and band, for now 
I'll sue out no man's livery, but mine own j 
I stand on no man's feet, so much a year, 
Right round and sound, the lord of mine own ground, 
And (to rhyme to it) threescore thousand pound." 

Such were too often the characters of the king'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 go- 
vernment now established was not a republic, but a most 
absolute monarchy, with Napoleon's brother, Joseph 
Bonaparte, for king. Then there arose fresh insurrec- 
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 



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men were either honest enthusiasts for their 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 my 
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 
Bo vino, 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, employe's, and revenue collectors, and 
they lived at large upon the farmers and agents of the 
nobility and great landed proprietors, who were com- 
pelled to furnish them with meat and drink, and forage 
lor 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 manoeuvres 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 direction, 
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 some of Francatripa's band, who 
engaged to deliver him into their hands, dead or alive ; 
but Francatripa had the address and good fortune to 
save himself even from the treachery of his own men, 



and to escape across the narrow Strait of Messina into 
Sicily, carrying with him, as was said, a considerable 
treasure. Farafante, w*ho 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- 
lied 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 defeated 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 from the Abruzzi into the States 
of the Church, and established himself on the steep 
heights of Monte Pelino. Here 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 them were shot or bayoneted upon the spot ; 
and the remainder fled in all directions. The French 
soldiers obtained so considerable a booty, that it is said 
they 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 tne people with the notion that he was 
invulnerable and must oe ubiquitous, for he seemed to 
be here, there, and everywhere almost at the same 
moment, he was foully betrayed by some of his own 
brigands, 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 see 
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 unfeelingly 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 Naples 
without a feeling of awe and terror.* 

* MacFarlane, * Lives of Banditti and Robbers/ Vincenzo 
Coco, ( History of the Neapolitan Revolution of 1799/ General 
Colletta, ' History of the Kingdom of Naples from 1784 to 
1825/ * Letters on Calabria,' by a French Officer. 

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TApfliL 2. 



[Natives of New Zealand.— From Captain Fitzroy's 'Voyage* 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 
planted, and very extensive plans have been adopted 
lor 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- 
gularly published every alternate week, for the pur- 
pose of supplying information respecting the progress 
of t'ne 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- 
dom to extend the interests of New Zealand coloniza- 
tion. Several newspapers are already published in the 



northern island. Thus, within the last four years New 
Zealand has become the scene of very important events, 
and perhaps the foundation of anew 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 
of 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 safeiy 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 
nowers did not extend to the enforcement of any re- 



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133 



gulations of law or police. The evils of irregular set- 
tiement 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 m furtherance 
of the settlement 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. B^y 
the end of November, 1841, the total number of emi- 
grants 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 whicn it 
could be proved had been spent on the property. The 
« land sharks,' who bad 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. In 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 
receive 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 



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. In a 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 endowments 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 to a 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 sawyers, with whom they 
are connected, an absolute dominion and ascendency ;'* 
and Dr. Dieffenbach states that the Europeans " treat 
their native wives well, and the latter adnere to them 
with great affection." 

The natives employed by Europeans are almost all 
dressed in apparel 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, but a 
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, cabbages, 
turnips, onions, and wild pigs, receiving 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 



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[April 2, 



employed as pedlcrs, taking goods for barter in the in- 
tenor; 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 
public guarantees are given for their protection and 
improvement 

AMERICAN SAW-MILLS. 

[From a Correspondeut.] 

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 
place 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. 

When 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 
sucli 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 immediate 
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 
creeks and streams where there happens to be an 
abundance of forestorees adapted tor the market. 
Most of the saw-mills have but one saw, which, if in 
good order, and propelled by sufficient 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 
thousand 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 trie moveable 
platform in the floor of the mill upon which they have 
to be placed, where the ground is not very favourable. 
When the mill is kept going during the night, one man 
relieves the other. 



The saw, which is a stout plate, eight or nine feet 
lon£, is fixed in a strong frame in a perpendicular 
position, working with an up-and-down stroke, like 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 on an outside 
slab, being held steadily in its place by an iron clamp. 
The machinery is then put in motion, asd when the 
saw has performed its work to within an inch or two ot 
the end of the log, it is stopped, the platform run back 
again by reversing (he action of the machinery (which 
is exceedingly simple), and a thin wedge is inserted, 
which completes the work by separating the slab from 
the log. The saw is then applied to cut off a slab from 
the opposite side of the log, and when this has been 
effected, two out of the four sides have been 'slabbed' 
or squared. The log is then turned upon one of its 
flat faces, when two more operations 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 tnin 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- 
quence of not allowing the saw to quite complete its 
work. 

While a log is being sawed up in this way, the per- 
son superintending 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 it might get spoiled by 
coming in contact with the iron clamp whicn is 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 is but little 
shelter from the storm, particularly when accompanied 
by a high wind. The profits, however, of a saw-mill 
are commonly such as to enable the owner, when he 
cannot make 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 ol 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 operation at the same time ; 
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 
saw-mills in America have extended their machinery. 



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Among the exceptions, however, there is one, which 
was erected more than twenty years ago, peculiarly 
deserving of notice ; for it is douhtful whether there 
is any saw-mill to be compared to the one in question. 

The river Montmorency is a stream of considerable 
size, being one of the largest tributaries 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 feet, 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 stream 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 
capacity 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 water-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 channel, 
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 been 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 sonle 
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 employment to a mill of such 
powers as this possessed, necessarily required a very 
large supply of timber ; but the neighbourhood 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 ot 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 a comparatively small number of persons 
irere required for superintending the different depart- 
ments. 

In constructing the piers by which the reservoir for 
containing the unsawed timber was inclosed, one of 
them was made to answer the purpose of a quay or 



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 w r ith a cargo of sawed lumber, some idea may be 
formed of the capabilities of the Montmorency saw- 
mills. 



ORNAMENTAL WOODS USED IN THE ARTS. 

It 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 
probable that many of them were selected for the 
fceauty 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 is 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 arc 
viewed, the degree of light, or the lustre, depending 
on the number of adjacent fibres that have their re- 
flecting surfaces strictly parallel. When the fibres 
proceed 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. 

The 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 general dull and in- 
capable of receiving a polish, but it often gives great 
beauty to the fibres which pass over and between the 
medullary plates, by forcing them to assume a per- 
fectly regular and parallel arrangement. " In the 
oak," says Mr. Aikin, " the medullary plates are much 
larger Uian in any other wood that I nave seen ; and 
when their broad side is brought to the surface by a 
section a little oblique to the direction or run of the 
plates, they have this peculiarity, that they arc dull 



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when the fibrous part reflects the light, and, on the 
.ontrary, 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 plates 
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 seen 
without a glass. On fixing the eye on a stripe it will 
be found to vary its colour from shining white to dull 
chesnut, according as the light is reflected from the 
fibres or from the sections of the medullary plates. 

A third source of variety 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- 
mate effect, 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 so conspicuous a feature in the ap- 
pearance of the wood. In the lime, the pear-tree, the 
beech, the birch, the lignum-vitae, the bira's-eye maple, 
Vhe 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 
number 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 indefinitely varied 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-vitae. 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 much the 
appearance of brecciated marble. 

As a fifth source of variety may be mentioned eyes, 
zoned spots, and curls, which, though in general too 
small to add to the beauty of large articles of furniture, 
are productive of considerable beauty in work-boxes 
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 elm) afford many pleasing specimens of these 
diversified surfaces. 



Lastly, the general colour may be noted— of maho- 
gany and rosewood we need say nothing, they are so 
well known — king-wood and zebra-wood, 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 
partake more or less of a brown colour. Satin-wood, 
brought from India and the West Indies, and fustic, 
are two varieties in which yellow is the prevailing 
colour. The cam- 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, toe pollard-oak, and the walnut, are 
perhaps the principal. 



The c Overlander* * 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. 1 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 months, and Mr. Eyre, 
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 longer sedentary, have become active and enterpris- 
ing pastoral chiefs and merchants, capable of undertaking the 
longest journeys, surrounded by their sheep and cattle. " The 
* Overlauders 1 (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 ot stock from market to market 
and from colony to colony. Urged on by the hope of profit, they 
have overcome difficulties of no ordinary kind, which have made 
the more timid and weak-hearted quail and relinquish the en- 
terprises in which they were engaged ; whilst tlte resolute and 
undaunted have persevered, and the reward tbey 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 
' Overlander*' are generally descended from good families, have 
received a liberal education (Etonians and Oxonians are to be 
found amongst thenA and even at their first start in the colony 
were possessed of wnat is considered an independence. Their 
grandfathers and fathers have been men distinguished in the land 
and sea service of their country ; and these worthy scions of the 
ancient stock, finding no outlet for their enterprise and love of ad» 
venture at home, have sought it in a distant land ; amongst them, 
therefore, is to be found a degree of polish and frankness rarely 
to be looked for in such a mode of lite, and in the distant desert 
you unexpectedly stumble on a finished gentleman. The life 
of an * Overlander' in the bush is one of great excitement, which 
constantly calls every energy into action, is lull 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 species of violent excitement, grows 
upon die mind from indulgence, so does the love of roving grow 
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 iuto South Australia, exceeded in value 230,000& 



Shrtmpt. — The office of shrimps seems to be that analogous 
to some of the insects on land, whose 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 bones of any dead animal exposed to their ravages. 
They are, in short, the principal scavengers of the ocean ; arid,. 
notwithstanding their office, they are deservedly and highly 
prized as nutritious and delicious food. — Penny Ct/ohpmdieu 



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no. 643. 



Vol. XL— T 

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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 kmd 
of plausible excuse for the entire conquest of France, 
and a fair opportunity for achieving it, we hear little 
of such extravagant claims. Normandy was given up 
by King Jx>hn, after the murder of Prince Arthur, 
almost without a struggle, and soon became amalga- 
mated with the French kingdom. This loss would 
furnish one strong motive with subsequent 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 successively 
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 claim 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 Ponthieu, 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, after a spirited 
battle, 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 
might 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 field, to the same place before appointed. 



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 from 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 such a manner, that, 
says Froissart, *• there was no man, though he were 
present at the journey, 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 three 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 
♦he prince's battle, if need were. The lords and 
knights of France came not to the assembly together 
m good order ; for some came before, and some came 
after, 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 Genoese crossbows about a fifteen thou- 
sand ; but they were so weary of going a-foot that day 
a six league, armed with their crossbows, that they said 
to their constables, • We be not well ordered to fight 
this day, for we be not in the case to do any great deed 
of arms, as \ "hese words 

came to the man is well 

at ease to be isgals, to be 

faint and fa at the same 

season there vith a terri- 

ble thunder came flying 

over both ba , for fear of 

the tempest coming. i nen anon uie air uegan 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 Enelishmen removed 
not one foot ; thirdly, agi and cried, and 

went forth till they came then they shot 

fiercely with their crossbows. men 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 throug;h 
heads, arms, and breasts, many of them cast down their 
crossbows, and did cut their strings, and returned dis- 
comforted. When the French king saw them flee 
away, he Baid, 'Slay these rascals; for they shall lett 



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(hinder) and trouble us without reason.' Then ye 
should have seen the men-of-arms dash in among 
them, and killed a great number of them ; and ever 
still the Englishmen shot whereas they saw thickest 
press : 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 
king 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 to the 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- 
parted, I cannot tell you which way. The king his 
father 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- 
tary sagacity of the former, and trie 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 III. ! " The prince's battalion at 
one period was very hard pressed ; and they with the 

Erince sent a messenger to the king, who was on a 
ttle 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 
prince, your son, are fiercely fought withal, and are sore 
handled, 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,' 
ouoth the knight, • but he- is hardly matched, where- 
fore 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 any 
adventure that falleth, as long as my son is alive ; and 
also say to them, that they suffer him this day to win his 
spurs, for,- if God be pleased, I will this j6urney 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 



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 in a 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 seem exag- 
gerations but that they are so well authenticated. 
Besides the king of Bohemia, there perished the Duke 
of Lorraine, the Earl of Alencon, whose overweening 
pride and impetuosity had so much contributed to the 
fatal 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 in 
tbe 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^nuch 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. — A Ride on Horseback, fyc, by a Lady, 



Holland as it Was and as it Is. — Holland is the land of the 
chivalry of the middle classes. Here they may say, in honest 
^ttde, 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 feeling ; 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 pro- 
tected them. — Why is the Holland of our times no longer that 
old Holland of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries f Why 
are her streets silent, her canals green with undisturbed slime f 
The greatness of Holland was founded upon commercial pro- 
sperity and capital, not upon productive industry. Her capital 
and industry were not employed in producing 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 so called — the 
prosperity of Holland, founded upon commerce alone, unsupported 
by a basis of productive industry within herself, and among the 
mass of her own population, fell to the ground. Thia is the his- 
tory of Holland. It speaks an important lesson to nations.— 
Laings Notes of a Traveller. 

T2 



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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 uf 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 possession 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 population 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 t)f these classes of inhabitants may be 
estimated at about twelve hundred. The Europeans 
and Chinese constitute the wealthier 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 
I shopkeepers are Chinese. The Malays are chiefly oc- 
I cupied in fishing, collecting sea-weed, and cutting 
i timber, and many of them are employed as boatmen 



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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 Caff res 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 eight, and a Malay 
only five. The immigration of the Chinese is much 
favoured by circumstances. Among the dense popula- 
tion of China there are many paupers, who are a 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 Penangare 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 u 10 7 E. long. 

The island of Singapore occupies about half the 
space between the two capes witn which the Malay 
Peninsula terminates on the south, Capes Bum and 
Ram uni a (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 hign 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 feet 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, 



and is still for the greater part, covered witn 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 sea 
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 tie 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 
a sluice. 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 circum- 
stances must be attributed the great uniformity of the 
temperature, the absence of a proper continual and 
periodical rainy season, 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 
quantity 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. 

Tne thermometer ranges during the year between 
72° and 88°. The mean annual temperature is 807° 
of Fahrenheit. In the four months succeeding 
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 
prevails, and to the almost entire absence of chilling 
land- wind9, 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 beeu 
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 siriboa). 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 degree of fertility. 
Tropical fruits succeed very well, such as the mangus- 
* Lieut. Newbold'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. 



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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 
paddy-fields, as well as of the orchards, is far from 
oeing 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 arc 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 Ictides, 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 (Hcdicora 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, wnich 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 byhills fromahundred to a hundred and fifty 
feet 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, 
which is navigable for small craft. A good wooden bridge 
connects it with the eastern part, which contains the 
dwellings of the Europeans, trie 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 ana 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 roofs. 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 
Europeans. 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 
lighters 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 



also manufacture pearl 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 
government-house, a court-house, a gaol, custom-house, 
Mission chapel, and the Singapore Institution. Sir 
Stamford Raffles formed a very extensive plan fqr this 
institution, which, however, has not been carried into 
effect. At present it consists of three schools, English, 
Malay, and Tamnl, and the number of scholars amounts 
to upwards of seventy. A Chinese school on a 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. For a 
more detailed account of the commerce of this rapidly 
improving settlement, the reader is referred to the 
' Penny Cyclopaedia,' 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 commerce 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 sea ; 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- 



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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 bringing up and rearing of Calves, to increase 
the multitude of Cattle ;'* and the preamble set forth 
that " forasmuch as of old time gi-eat 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 plentv, 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 " is 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- 
pelling the butchers to sell by weight ; and the pream- 
ble notices that formerly meat had been sold at mo- 
derate prices, so that " especially poor persons might 
with their craft or bodily labour 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 com- 
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 ib., 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- 
come necessary, and which, in tne end, would as cer- 
tainly fail. The year following the passing of the 
above act, another act was passedj for enforcing it in 
a more summary manner. It authorised mayors and 
sheriffs to commit butchers who sold above the statute 

E 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- 
quired to assess the price of fat cattle whenever the 
farmers and graziers 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 
good sense in a clause which enabled the king to 
suspend the law by proclamation, but an apology was 

♦ 21 Hen. VIH., c. 8. \ 2i Hen. VHL, c. 2. 

t 25 Hen. VHL, 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 
years been so high as to encourage an idea that specu- 
lators 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 prohibited, but 
it is intended to admit oxen at a duty of 20*. each ; 
cows, 15*. ; calves, 10*. ; sheep, 3*. ; lambs, 2*. ; and 
pigs, 5*. Fresh beef, or beef slightly salted, which is 
now prohibited, will be subject to a duty of 8*. a cwt. 
from foreign countries, and 2s. if from British posses- 
sions. The duty on bacon and hams is to be reduced 
from 28*. to 14*. per cwt. ; on salted beef and salted 
pork a reduction is to be made from 12*. to 8*. ; and 
a lower duty is to be charged on these articles of 
provision when imported from our colonies. Lard will 
be reduced from a duty of 8*. to 2*., and to 6d. if from 
a British possession. No reduction is intended in the 
duty on butter and cheese from foreign countries, which 
is now 20*. and 10*. a cwt, but a lower rate of duty 
(5*. and 2*. Gd.) is to be charged on these articles when 
imported from our dependencies. 

It is singular that live cattle and fresh meat have 
continued prohibited 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, 
cheese, 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, 
248,000 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 importation of Irish cattle, sheep, and 
swine, and of Irish beef, pork, and bacon, declaring 
the trade to be a *' 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."t In 1759 the act was repealed, but until a 
better policy prevailed it 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, 1842. 

f < The Church and State in Equal Danger with Trade/ by 
Roger Coke : quoted in Tooke's ' History of Price*,' vot i* 
p. 34. 



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none oh 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 following 
day ; or they may be slaughtered in the afternoon of 
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 
port than formerly. In 1838 the freight of cattle from 
Dublin to Liverpool was from 5#. to 12s., according to 
their size; sheep were 2$. per head, and pigs from 
1*. 6d. to 4*. each; from Deny to Liverpool a fat cow 
could be conveyed for 10*. Gd. ; sheep, 1*. lOd. ; lambs, 
1*. ; 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 
cwt., 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 9,243,000/. 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 is a constant commercial in- 
tercourse with Great Britain by steamers of large 
size, which perform their voyages with a certainty and 
rapidity previously 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. With 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 tnought 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 
sligntly 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. 



Hamburg, which is the natural emporium of the 
countries watered by the Elbe, exports annually 
7,500,000 lbs. of salted meat, including bacon and 
hams, or about 3500 tons. The average price is 50#. 
per cwt. of 186 lbs. An ox weighing 650 lbs. sells 
usually for about 12/., and the duty on importation 
here would be 20*.; cows sell for 10/. or 11/.; the 
sheep are small, and one of 60 lbs. sells for 20*. The 
prices of meat are 3Jd. to 4d. per lb. ; veal and mutton 
bd. and Gd. At Kiel, an ox of 600 lbs. sells for only 
11. ; and a sheep of 80 lbs. for 20*. Fresh meat is from 
4d. to 6d. per Id. At Lubeck the price of an ox weigh- 
ing 600 lbs. is from 11/. to 12/. ; and one of 500 lbs. is 
about 5/. 10*. Beaf, pork, and veal are 4£rf., and mut- 
ton 3Jrf. per lb. At Rostock, an ox of 600 lbs. sells 
at from 10/. to 12/. ; cows from 3/. 10*. to 67. ; beef is 
3d. to 3\d. ; 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 Z$d. to 3d. per lb., and 
salted beef or pork is from 5rf. to 5%d. per lb. At 
Dantzic, an ox of 550 lbs. may be bought for 6/. 15*. ; 
and meat of all kinds is Ad. per pound. Hams are 44*. 
per cwt. ; salted meat is 4$d. per lb. ; and pork 63*. per 
barrel 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, 
pork, bacon, hams, tongues, sausages, and smoked 
Deef. A navy tierce of salt beef, containing 38 eight- 
pound pieces, Would cost 4/. 3*. ; the freight, insurance, 
and other charges would be 5*.; to which must be 
added the duty of 8*. the cwt. A navy tierce of pork, 
containing 80 four-pound pieces, is subject to exactly 
the same charge, and would cost 4/. 11*. Hamburg 
could export at present about 1,800,000 lbs. of salt 
beef, and 3,000,000 lbs. of salt pork. With the 
pi ices above mentioned, it is said that a profit could be 
made of from 10*. to 17*. 6d. per tierce on the importa- 
tion of salt beef and pork into England. Smokea beef, 
which loses about 25 per cent, in drying, costs about 
5Jrf. per lb. 

Dantzic is attempting to rival Hamburg in the salt 
provision trade, ana is quite successful as regards pork, 
which is all corn-fed; but the oxen are not so well 
adapted for pickling, in consequence of being worked 
in tne plougn for four or eipht years, and then chiefly 
fed on the refuse of the distilleries. 

Under a low rate of duty salt meat could be sup 
plied at a cheap rate from South America. Sir Wood- 
bine 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 Ayres 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 is 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 Sutcliffes ' Sixteen Years in Chili.' It is the 
common food of the Chilians, and is eaten either 
roasted, boiled, or made into a mess. Should the im- 
portation 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,' D«c.» 1841. 
t ' Buenos Ayres/ Ac, by Sir Woodbine Parish, p. 348, 



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[The Common RoMnia, or Locust-Tree — (Robinia Pseud- Acactd) or False Acacia, j 



THE ACACIA, OR LOCUST-TREE. 

This tree is a native of North America, where 4 three 
varieties are, common, the red, green, and white, so 
called from the colour of the bear t- 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 it 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 trom its valuable 
qualities. The very numerous branches often contain 
as many cubic leet 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 oi 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 for wing py decoction a very nleasant beverage, 
while the roots have a saccharine flavour resembling 
liquorice. Jhp 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 distinguished 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, and a hedgc.ibrmed of this species is 
a very beautiful object in the flowering season. 

The locust tree has been extensively propagated in 
Europe, especially in France and England. It is 



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named in honour of Robin, a IJrench 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 
Tradescants 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 received 
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. 
£obbett 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-tree 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 m England than the 
oak, when a man would be thought 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 trees in England." This characteristic passage 
was written in 1823, at which time Mr. Cobbett was 
importing tons of seed and trees from America, and 
was unable to supply the demand, while in the old 
nurseries the * Robmia Pseud- Acaciae' were neglected 
until they pissed through Mr. Cobbett's hands under 
the more favoured name of 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. 

The growth of the locust-tree in a good sandy loam 
is undoubtedly very rapid. In the course of four years 
it has 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 enough 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 elsewhere 
to determine what the actual qualities of the locust- 
tree really were; and from these investigations it 
appears tnat sound acacia-wood of the red species, 
grown in good soil and in a favourable situation, is 
" heavier, harder, stronger, more rigid, more elastic, 
and tougher than the best English oak." But then the 
form of the tree is such that it furnishes timber for 



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 as a 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 otner common trees. 

The locust-tree is a great ornament to the lawn, 
where it should stand singly, and if planted in groups 
in the shrubbery, ample room should be allowed for 
the development of the branches, and at the same 
time theysnouldbe sheltered from the most violent 
winds. Though its drip is less injurious than any 
other tree to any kind of vegetation whicfc it over- 
hangs, yet as the roots spread laterally at noggutf depth 
below the surface, it exhausts the soil iflufKiieigh- 
bourhood. Gilpin remarks, in his * ForestScenery,' 
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 part 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 is a quality more 
liable 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 tneir 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. 

The 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 territory is exceedingly 
mountainous, being traversed by the offsets of the 



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great Pyrenean chain, called by some geographers the 
Cantabrian Pyrenees. The d liferent branches of that 
chain form between them numerous and deep lateral 
valleys. The first of these ranges, which is composed 
partly of calcareous 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 is the 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 Nervaor 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 France 
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. From a 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 principal 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 principal square. In 
Vizcaya, Motrico, Lequeitio, Bermeo, 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 
Miriam), amounts to 342,929 souls. The people 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 
language, modified into different dialects. This lan- 
guage — L6ngua Bascongada, called also by the Spa- 
niards Bascuence and Vizcaino, and by the French 



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 generally 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 language 
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- 
concs founded colonies in France, Ireland, and Italy. 
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 aera 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 Spanish and 
French Navarre. They were the only Spaniards who 
preserved their independence, not having been subdued 
by any of the nations who invaded the Peninsula. 
Porapey was the first who, in the year CO B.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.d. 580. 
At that period, it is stated by the Basque historians 
that their nation obeyed a lord called Andeca, who 
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 possession oi 
Pedro the Cruel, of Castile, his brother Don Tcllo, 
and Don Juan of Aragon. After the defeat of Pedro 
by his brother Enrique, the latter conferred the title 
of 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 
from 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'Vil oria. It was composed of the bishop 
and archdeacon of Calahorra, of all the secular clergy 

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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 Arriaga. or {tie Fraternity 
of Arriaga. They elected four alcaldes for tfie 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 Riyahellosa 
by order of Enrique IV. of Castile, a collection of the 
Jaws 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 Vitorja 
every year, at which two commissaries are elected, 
one of whom must be a citizen inhabiting one of tfye 
towns, and another from the smal} villages. There 
is also a Diputado-General, who presides at the assem- 
blies, but has no voice in them ; he commands |,he 
forces, of the province, and communicates with the 
government of Madrid. The province is divide4 into 
iifty-three Hermandades, administered l>y seventy-five 
Alcaldes, elected at the Junta-General. 

The Guipuzcoans, according to their present consti- 
tution, hold a Junta-General, or general assembly, 
every year, in the month of July, at one of the eighteen 
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 {he Di- 
putacion, which is the government pf the provinces ; 
the government reside, in rotation, tjiree years jn each 
of the four towns just mentioned. There is also a 
dinutacion called Extraordinaria. There are Resides 
Alcaldes de Hermandad, to administer justice in tl}e 
different districts. These alcaldes are eight, ancj are 
elected by the junta. Besides these alcaldes, whose 
office is to prosecute robbers and other malefactors, 
there are seventy-seven Alcaldes Qrdinariqs, to admi- 
nister justice in their respective districts. 

The Vizcayans hold a general assembly every two 
years. It is summoned by the (Jorregjdor 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 hekj at 
Bilbao, and 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 enacted in }t have 
the same force as those made in the latter assembly. 

The Diputacion is entrusted with the administration 
of the province ; it receives and expends the public funds, 
disposes of the forces for the defence of {he state, gives 
letters of citizenship to strangers, and is the supreme 
tribunal of appeal in civil matters. There is po build- 
ing belonging to the state ; cyen the house pf the J)i- 
putacion and the prisons belong to private individuals, 
who let them to the state. The people pay only one 
direct tax, which consists in a 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 richest abadia, or 
rectory, is not worth more than 160/. per annum. 

The chief privileges of the yizcayans consist in 
paying no taxes except those levied by their juntas; 
in every Vizcayan being by birth an b"? a lgo, or gen- 
tleman, and acknowledged as such in every part of 
Spain ; in not being subject to any tribunal, or to any 
other laws, either 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- 



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 
oncers appointed by the government of Madrid, ex- 
cept the masters of the post-qfljee. The Basques of 
all the three provinces also contribute to the royal ex- 
cjiequer a certain sum, which they call " cjopativo 
vq}nptario," or voluntary donation. 

The Vizcayan§ and Guipuzcoans are t]\e best saijoys 
in the Penipsula, and skijfui in commercial transac- 
tions. They are very aptiye and industrious ; their 
chief occupations are agriculture, commerce, and die 
manufacturing of iron, pie women assist the men in 
the cultivation of {he grquncj. and are remarkable for 
their cleanliness. JJieir manners are simple and easy. 
They fire fqpcj of dancing in their" festivities/and en- 
joying $P moderate pleasures of {he table. ' Their 
national instruments are the tambourine and the bag- 
pipe : their q>nce caljeo] zqrzjco is quick and lively, 
and is always accqmpanied by singing. Jp their wed- 
dings tlicy greet tjie hrjcje in going to' an$ coming 
from tjie church, by firing guns and pistol§,and very 
often she is induced to fire them herself. In some 
villages, after the burial cpremony is over, they dis- 
tribute hrea<}, cheese, wjne, and walnpts among the 
persqns inyited, and sonie 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 Casfile : both 
wear abarcas, a specjes of shoe which is madp of a 
hard and uptanned piece of hog-skin, or that of any 
other animal, wjiich they softep by soaking it in 
water, and then cut it into pieces of the size of the 
foot, which they fasten oq with strings. 

The Basques are in general frugal cheerful, honest, 
and cpurtcoMS, without meanness. When kindly 
treated, they are docile and manageable ; but if they 
are dealt with severely and harshly, they become 
stubborn and intrac faK1/l » nA ;f ie *""- *hat reason that 
they are with great to severe mili- 

tary discipline, pai vho are not of 

their own country, lionzalo de C6rdoba, from the ex 
perience he had of them in Sicily, often said that he 
would rather Keep lions than Vizcayans. They are a 
brave people, and better adapted for a system of 
guerrilla warfare than any other in SJpain.— (Abridged 
from the penny Cyclopaedia.) 

Eastern Method of Measuring Time. — The people of the East 
measure time by the length of their shadow. Hence, if you ask 
a man what o'clock it is, he immediately goes into the gun, stands 
erect, then looking where his 'shadow terminates, he measures his 
length with his feet, and tells you nearly the time. Thus the 
workmen earnestly desire the shadqw which indicates the time 
for leaving their work. A persqn wishiug to leave his toil says, 
" How long my sjiadow is in coming?" " Why did you not come 
sooner?" " Because I waited for my shadow.'' in the seventh 
chapter of Job we find it written, u As a servant earnestly desireth 
his shadow." — Roberts s Illustrations. ' 



Railroads in Germany. — The Prussian * State Gazette ' gives 
the following summary of the actual state of railroads in Ger- 
many : — It is in German miles. 

Miles. Dollars. 

JJnes finished 175* cost 38,940,000 

po. constructing 166} " ' 43,357,000 

Do. granted 1 2 4£ 27,2 40,000 

Do. projected 9 i3 . — ' ' ' . 

Do. branches 1 03 43,846,000 

1022J 

A German mile is equal to 40 English, giving A total of about 

4700 English miles. * >* r*,. ^tW* 



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[Building of Westminster Bridge. — From a Picture by Canale'.u/) 



WESTMINSTER BRIDGE. 

The metropolitan world of the present and the latter 
half of the last century seems to nave been seized with 
a very sudden and sweeping determination (o 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- 
morial. It is truly surprising to walk through trie- 
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 spots or districts,— 
growing smaller and fewer every day, which yet pre- 
serve for our instruction a few glimpses of trie over- 
hanging houses, the alley-like streets, the din, the 
danger, and tilth surrounding 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 
precincts of the chief courts of justice, of the houses of 
legislature, 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 is impossible, Sir, to come 
to this assembly, or to return from it, without observa- 
tions on the present condition of the Rreets of West- 
minster, observations forced on every man, however 
inattentive, or however engrossed Tt>y reflections of a 



diffcrept kind. . . .The flit]}, 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, or a colony of Hottentots." From other 
notices also, we learn tnat 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 very 
localities which Lord Tyrconnel had in view in his 
description ? But the reformation of the evils more 
particularly referred to by the noble JonJ, 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 visitor from 
the pity to Westminster a century 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 "vfpitehall and parliament Street, and which, 
nowhere very broad, measured in some parts scarce 
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 loss among all the build- 
ings and places to be swept away. Thinking of this 
gate, he would care little ior 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 jlenry 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 



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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 
as 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, hemmed 
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, M 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 
by 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 to turn. Where- 
ever the visitor looked, it was the same. The beautiful 
architecture of Henry VII. 's chapel required an effort 
in order to get to see it ; and Westminster Hall was 
in a still worse condition, some of the niche3 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, wou Id have spared 

* Smith'* ' Antiq. of Westminster/ vol. i., p. 262. 

f The two public-houses which concealed gome portion of 
the ball were oaly removed in the beginning of the present 
century, when the fragments of eight figures in niches, of exqui- 
site workmanship, were discovered. 



all trouble of taking down. The gate of the Wool- 
staple opposite the Hall, the last remains of the esta- 
blishment 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 a town ; 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 Street), 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 beheld the rising but unfi- 
nished piers and arches of the Bridge. 

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 
wherry 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 Street, 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 time 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. 

The 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 
centuries 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. 



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China has a soil and a climate which tend greatly to 
the growth of Jthis 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 silk- 
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 XL 
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, Dauphin6, 
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 nis 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 wno wished to rear silk-worms ; he also 
gave a reward of three livres to the cultivator, for 
every tree that should be found in a 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 
James I. to hope that a similar advantage might be 
available for England. After saying that " in a few 
years* space our brother the French king hath, since 
nis coming to that crown, both be^un and brought to 
perfection the making of silk in his country, whereby 
ne 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 cause a doubt that these may 
be nourished and reared in England, provided there 
were a sufficient number of mulberry-trees to supply 
them with food." We find that James took some singu- 
lar 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- 
tinuance 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 for the subject. It may also be collected 



from some of King James's speeches in the year 1G20, 
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 1G29, 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 disappeared, 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." t 

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 a 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 shareholder 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 proprietors; but the whole affair seems to 
have fallen to the ground a year or two afterwards, 
along with other commercial speculations of the same 
period. 

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 
peasantry, by adding to their profitable sources of in- 
dustry. Eignty acres of ground were purchased in the 
county of Cork, in which were planted four hundred 
thousand white mulberry- trees. Buildings were erected 
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 eignty 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 is a curious one. In order 
that the silk-worms may have their food ready at the pro- 
* Porter, ' Treatise on the Silk Manufacture.* 
+ « London,' vol. i., p. 192 : * The Parks.' 



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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 ; 
hut in England it is attended with many difficulties. 
Hence search has heen made for some other kind of 
leafy food which should at the same time be abundantly 
supplied and nutritious to the animal. t)r. BetUrdi 
found that dried mulberry- leaves, preserved from the 
preceding year, would serve ih case of exigency. The 
Kev. 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-leaves ; but 



the result showed that none of the woHtis yielded such 
a quantity of silk as is customarily obtained in Ita'y, 
and that those which hau been fed on lettuce-leaves 
yielded decidedly less than the others. 

The « Transactions ' of the Society of Arts afford 
abundaht proofs of the laudable efl'orts which have 
been made to naturalize these insects in England ; 
laudable, because if it couid be made a profitable em- 
ployment for country persons, much good might result 
therefrom. Yet all these efforts liave failed. Miss 
Rhodes, Mrs. Williams, IVtrs. Allen, Mademoiselle Coge, 
and other ladjes. both of England and trance, have 
communicated thp results of their experiments on this 
point. Some fed the silk-worms On lettiiceleavcS only ; 
others began with lettuce leaves, and afterward