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AP 
4- 

v./X 



COACMXTTEE. 

CM/maa-LORD BROUGHAM. F.R.S., Member of the Natioual Institute of France. 
Fice-Chairman— EARL SPENCER. 



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

Captain Beaufort. R.N.. F.R. aud H.A.S. 

Georjjo Burrows, M.D. 

Ix>rd Campbell. 

Profi-ssor Carey, A.M. 

John Conolly, M.D. 

Wiliinm Oulson, Esq. 

Ti c Bishop of St. David's. 

J. F. I)»vis Esq.. F R.S. - 

Sir Henry De l.i Heche, F.R.S. 

Professor De Morgan, F.RA.S. 

Lord Denmau 

S:imncl Duckworth, Esq. 

The Bishop of Durham. 

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

T. F Ellis, Esq., A.M., F.RA.S. 

Thomas Falconer, Es i 

John Fori**, M.D., F.R.S. 

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

F. H. Goldsmid, Esq. 



Treasurer— JOHN WOOD, Esq. 



t., M.P. 



Mr. Sergeant Manning. 

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

Lord Nugent. 

W. S O'Brien. Esq., MP. 

John Lewis Prevost, Esq. 

Professor Quain. 

P. M. Roget, M.D.. See. R.S . F.R.A.3. 

R. W. Roihman, Esq., A.M. 

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

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

John Taylor. Esq , F.R.S. 

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

Thomas Vardon, Esq. 

Jacol» Waley, Esq.. A.M. 

Jai. Walker, Esq., F.R.S., Pr. Inst. Civ. Eng. 

H. Wuymouth, Esq. 

Thos. Webster, Esq.. A.M. 

Urd Wrottesley, A.M., F.R.A.S. 

J. A. Vates, Esq. 



LOCAL COMMITTEES. 



Alum, Stajfbrdshire—Xiev. 3. P. Jones. 
Anglesea — Hev. E. Wil ianis. 

Rev. W. Johnson. 

- Miller, Esq. 
Barnstaple Bancroft, Esq. 

William Gribble, E>q. 
Belfast— .It*. L. Dminmoud. M.D. 
Birminglinm—ViKuX Moon James, Esq. 
B- idptrt— 3 ;»mes Williams. Esq. 
Bristol J. N. Sanders, Esq.. F.G.S., Chairman. 

J Reynold-, Esq., Treasurer. 

3 B. E-tlin, Esq . F.L.S., Secretary. 
Calcutta — James Younif, Esq. 

C. H. Cameron, Esq. 
Cambridge— Hev. Leonard Jenvns, A.M., F.L.S. 

Rev. John l.odge. A.M. 

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

Willisim Masters, Esq. 
CV/Ww/e- Thomas Barnes, M.D.. F.R S.E. 
Carnarvon— R. A. Poole, Esq. 

W illiara Hoheits, E*q. 
C/irxter— Henry Potts, Esq. 
Chichester— C C. Dendy. Esq. 
Crfn John Crawfori. Esq. 

II i to Petrides, Esq. 
Coventry— C. Bray, Esq. 
f'rnl,i<;h— Thomas Evans, Esq. 
Ih-rbi/ — Joseph Strutt, Esq. 

Edward Strutt. Esq, M.P. 
iVrtiupi.rt and St'/neh'jusc— John Cole, Esq. 

-T i ► 1 1 ii Norman. F.sq. 

I.t. Col. C Hamilton Smith, F U.S. 
Jhnlrim— The Very Rev. ih« Dean. 
l';,„burnh-3. S Traill, M.D. 
titrvria— Josiah Wcdgwtxxl, E-q. 



Exeter— 3. Tyrrell, Esq. 

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

pergwm. 
Qlasyvip— 

Alexander McGrigor, Esq. 

James Conner, Esq. 

A. J. D. D r Orsey. Esq. 
Guernsey— F C. Lukiss, Esq. 
Hitcham, Sti/ftM—Rcv. Professor Hensluw. 

A.U.. F.L.S. & G.S. 
Hull— James Bowden, Esq. 
Leeds— 3. Marshall. Esq. 
Lcivts-3. W. Woollgar, Esq. 

Henry Browne, Esq. 
Liverpool lacal Associ torn— 

J. Mulleneux, Esq. 

Rev. Wm. Shepherd, LL.D. 
Maidstone— Clement T. Smyth, E*q. 

John Case, Esq. 
Manchester Ix>cal Assnciaiinn — 

Sir Benjamin Hev wood, Bt.. Treasurer. 

Sir George Philips, Bart., M.P. 

T. N. Win»tanlev, Esq. Hun. Sec. 
Mcrthyr TydwV-Sir J.J. Guest. Bart., M.P. 
Minchinhampum — John G. Baul, Esq. 
Neath— John Rowland, Esq. 
Newcastle— Rev. W. Turner. 

T. Sopwith. Esq., F.G.S. 
Newport, Isleoffrviht-AX}. Clarke, F.sq. 

T.Cooke, Jun., Esq. 

R G. Kirkpalrick, Esq. 
Newport Pagntll—3. Millar, E*q. 
Nvruich — Richard Bacon, Esq. 

Wm. Forster, Esq. 
Orsett, Ester— Dr. Corbett. 



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



Oxfird— Ch. Daubeny. M.D., F.R.S., Prof. Cliem. 

Rev. Baden Powell, Sav. Prof. 

Rev. John Jordan, A.B. 
Pesth, Hungary/— Count Szechenvi. 
Plymouth— H. Woollcomhe, Esq.*. F.A.S., Chairtn, 

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

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

G. Wightwick.Esq. 
Presteign— Rt. Hon. Sir H. Rrydges, Bart. 

A. W. Davis. M.D 
Riptm—Rpv. H. P. Hamilton, A.M., F.R.S., G.S. 

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

Humphreys Jones, Esq. 
Jlyde, Isle of /fight— Sir R. D. Simeon, Bt. 
Salisbury— Rev. J. Barlitt. 
Sheffield— J. H. Abraham, Esq. 
ShepUm Mallet— G. F. Burroughs. E«q. 
Shrewsbury— U. A. Sl.mey, Es<|. 
S*ntth Petherton— Johu Nlchnlette, Esq. 
Stvckport— II. Marslaud, Esq., Treasurer. 

Henrv Coppock. Esq., Secrctart/. 
Sr/dney, New S. fVales—Vf. M. Maiming, Esq. 
Swansea — Matthew Moggridge, Esq 
Tavistock— Rrv. W. Evans. 

John Rundle, Esq., M.P. 
Truro— Henry Sewell Stokes, Esq. 
Tttnbridge /Cells— Dr. Yeats. 
htutxeter— Ro!*»rt Blurion, Efq. 
Virginia, V. *\— Professor Tucker. 
Worcester— Chns. Hastings, M D. 

C. H. Hebb, Esq. 
JVrexham— Thomas Edgworth, Esq. 

Major Sir William Llovd. 
Yarmouth— C. E. Rumbold*. Esq. 

Dawson Turner, Esq. 
York— Rev. 3. Kenrick, A.M. 

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



London : Piin'ed by Wim.iam Clowes and Soys. Stamford Stn-et. 



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INDEX TO VOL. XII. 



America, discovery of, in the 10th cen- 
tury. 342 
American birds, singular call* of, 408 
Amoy, account of, 137 

Animals. locomution of, 190, 252, 325. 
454 

Antelope shooting, 256 

Ants, natural history of, 481, 490 

Arein, the, 16 

Artisans and apprentice* on the con- 
tinent. 62 

Asbamnus, fountain of, ICO 
Ash-tree, applications of the, 470 

Astrology, judicial, exposure of, 366. 
391,430,466 

Atlantic and Pacific oceans, junction 
of the, 397. 404. 414 

Australia, food of natives of, 96 ; flow- 
ers and fruits of. 235 ; use of oxen 
in. 472 

Baste low a. the Exchange of. 172 

Basilisk, notice of the, 4-40 

Bats, natural history of, 4 

Beech tree, useful applications of the, 
158. 1/3 

Birch-tree, economical uses of the, 91, 
109 

Birds, maternal affection in, 416 

Black and brown, planU used for dye- 
ing. <1 

Bricks aud brickmaking, 262 

Bridges, floating and flying, 111. 122 

British shipping, privileges and liabili- 
ties of, 6 

Cadoul, account of the city of, 441 

Cadiz at sunset, JU0 

Cairo, business in, 383] 

Camel, the, 216 

Caricatures, uses of, 416 

Catalonia, peasants of, 294 

Cattle-drovers, English, 65 S 

Cedar of Lebanon, 93 

Charybdis, whirlpool of, 408 , 

Chestnut-tree, uses of the, 483 

Chinese eatables, 28; tools and me- 
chanics, 152 ; public gardens, 376 

Cities, importance of, 8 

Coaches in Yucatan, 32 

Coals, substitutes for, 278 

Cold, effects of, upon the body . 2-T8 

Combat, trial by, 154 

Comets, substance of, 152 

Condor, viae of the, 428 

Conversation, 68 

Coppermine, shooting the rapids on the, 

Cornwall and Derbyshire, raining laws 

of, 4H7 
Coverley, Sir Roger de, 1, "7, 105, 153, 

209, 297, 369, 393, 425. 440. 465, 

489 
Crab-catching on Scottish coast, 408 
Curiosities of British natural history, 

4, 49. 97, 169. 1*3, 213, 249. 806. 

337,401,433.481 
Dance hs. the, 310 

Day. perpetual, in the arctic circle, 100 
Dean Forest, the free miners pf, 318 
Diligence, a SpanUh, 44 
Dioramas, port"'' 1 • ? 
DissoV'iug Views. 3 
IV g, attachment of the. 304 
dragons, notion* impacting, 432 
Drovers. Highland, 356 
Uuddun, dekeription of the scenery of 

the, 236, 26d, 316 
Dudley, its castle and cavern, 83; Nail 

ers of, 84 
Dutch settlers at the Cape, 64 



EDTKBtraoff.a first glance at, 417 

Elisha, fountain of, 200 

Emigration, 276 

England in the time of the Saxons, 
140 ; general industry of, 272 ; state 
of crime in, 302 

Essays on the lives of remarkable 
painters— Giovanni Cimabue, 25 ; Ci 
mabue, concluded, 59 ; Giotto, 89 ; 
Giotto, concluded, 103; Giotto and 
his scholars, 121 ; Giotto and his scho- 
lars, continued, 131 ; Giotto and his 
scholars — the Campo Santo, 146; 
Giotto and his scholars, continued t 
155; Gates of San Giovanni. 185; the 
Gates of San Giovanni, concluded, 
197 ; Masaccio, 217 ; Masaecio, con- 
cluded, 225 ; Pilippo Lippi and An- 
felicoda Fiesole, 273; Angellco da 
lesole, 281; Benozzo Goxxoli,301; 
Andrea Castaguo aud Lucca Signo- 
relli,308; Domenico dal Ghirlandajo, 
364; Andrea Bfantegna, 409; A 
Mantegn.i, contiuued, 436 ; the Bel- 
lini. 477 

Etruscan antiquities. 20. 48 

Factories, dayg at, describing various 
manufactures and arts : — needle- 
mills, 33 ; porcelain-works. 73; lace, 
113 ; silk, 161 ; potteries, 201 ; cotton, 
241; print-work, 289; carpets, 329; 
steam-boat, 377; alum-works, 421 
woollen, 457 ; flax, 501 

Falkland, palace of, 361 

Fallows, fallacy respecting, 420 

Fine arts, influence of the, 396 

Fish-hooks, manufacture of, 175 

Floating islands and gardens, 326 

Foo-choo-foo. account of, 108 

Food best adapted for man, 24 

Fossil trees, 8 

Fox, natural history of the, 169, 183 

Fruit, ripeuing of, 32 

Gano-systkm of agricultural labour, 
309 

Geography and history, 88 

Geologv, museum of economic, 319 

Giizard* pebbles, use of, 442 

Glaciers, living on the Alpine, 450 

Oloves and glovers, 94, 101 

Good manners, 355 • 

Granite and sand-hills, sonorous, 135 

Guadaloupe, account of, 321 

Haydn's childhood. 210 

Hedgehog, natural liistory of the, 213 

Hindustanee parable, 124 

Humble-bee, natural history of the, 
401 

Hungary, sand plains of, 352 

Husbandry affairs, iu 1449. 200 

Iokoraxce the great obstacle to social 
improvement, 240 

Improvements, public, in 1843, 497 

India, tribes and caste* of : Chandalaa, 
9; Brahmen, 41 ; the FJuwls, 100; the 
*nn«U".u*. 14H; tho Mahruttas. 18V; 
the Coolies, 257; the Seiks, 313; the 
Cutchees, 363; Rajpoots. 34); the 
Rohilla*. 429; system of Dawk tra- 
velling in, 156; commerce with, 355; 
overland route to, 456 

Indian appetite, 347 

Indigo planters and plantations, 178 

Ireland in the 16th centfiry, 328; edu- 
cation in. 340 

Irish climate, its use.*, 152 

Iron, new uses of, Ub6 

Italian vintage, 29 

Jamaica, fire flies of, 472 



Kangaroo hunting In Australia, 160 

Kingfisher, or halcyon, nest of, 267 

Kuzxauk dinner, 312 

Lakes. 282 

Langdale. Westmoreland, scenery of, 
348. 372 

Larch, economical uses of the, 226 

La Rioja. the mines of, 1&6 

Learning, power of, 24 

Lime-tree, useful applications of the, 
386 

Lizard, natural liistory of, 305 

Lloyd's List, 15 

Locust swarms of Asia, 230 

Lord Mayor's show. 444, 452 

Lucifer matches, 300 

Madkio as a city, 376 ; account of, 389 

Maple, economical uses of the, 133 

Marble-pictures and artificial marble, 
419 

Maremma of Italy & Pontine marshes, 
3.4 

Marshes, 338 

Mexico described by Cortes, 440 

Mimulus, the, 171 

Mining under the sea. 61 ; labour, eco- 
nomy of, 426 

Moles, usefulness of, 8 ; natural history 
of, 49 

Montpellier, 235 

Monts de Piete, or pawn societies, 210, 
218 

Music in the north of England, 347 

Mygale, errors respecting the, 432 

Nature, beautiful provision of, 256; 
in man, 355 

Nelson at Trafalgar, 140 

Newfoundland, transparency of the sea 
on the coast of, 104 

New Zealand, whaling oflT, 96 

Niagara district, Canada, J 7. 52, 85 

North American Indiau villages, cha- 
racter of, 376 

Nottingham, the hill and castle at, 191 

Oak, economical uses of the, 274, 276, 
302 

Orkney, kelp manufacture in, 184 

Ostrich, incubation of the, 428 

Parks for the people, 138 

Parmesan cheese, 408 

Pekin, 11 

Persia, the mechanical arts in, 390 

Petersburg by moonlight, 3b8 

Phoenix, notions respecting the, 428 ! 

Pit's and pig drovers, 277 ' 

Pine and fir, foiling aud transport nf, 
18; economical uses of the, 2/ ; 

*• resinous products of, 42 

Psucard- printing at Vienna, 3!7 

Polar sea. storm in the, 388 

Port- Phillip, water-holes of, -176 

Potato, products of the, 370 
Prairie trailing caravan, 220 

Prison discipline, 35 

Progresses of Queen Elizabeth, 12, 
4.>, 106, 143. 147, 181, 193, 233, 258, 
298, ;<58, 406. 446, 473 
Prospect , an arctic, 355 

Pyramid, size and cost of the great, 

240 
Rains, preternatural, 127 
Rambles from Railway): Penshnrst, 
228, 260, 285; Penshuist to Tun- 
bridge, 321 
Rats, sagacity of, 396 
Heading and Study, 72 
Refreshments, Puldic, dining in Lon- 
don, 55 



Rlchborough and Peculver, 4S5, 492 

Roast-beef, Freueh opiuiou ol, 264 

Rocks, blasting of, 6C 

Roman Peasantry, 412 

Rome in the 6th century/3<0 

Rotten-stone and emery, 2i0^v 

Russia, Southern, horse-farms itfc WI" 
Sheep-flocks of, 215 

Salamander, notice of the, 443 

Salmon, account of a tame, 363 

Serpent-charmer, 408 

Shang-hae, account of, 81 

Sheep in Mecklenburg, 68 ; marks 
for, 160 ; drovers, 17 1 

Shetland Islands, corn-mill of the, 160 

Shikarpur. 312 

Shipping, insurance of, 15 

Shrews, natural histoiy of British, 249 

Siberia, autumnal travelling in, 8 

Sicily, sulphur-mines of, 47 

Sidon, the Great. 30 

Sindh, travelling in, 304 

Singapore Harbour, 2,6 

Skelligs Islands, 341 

Snakes, British, natural history of, 337, 
350 

Soda and soap, 416 

Solfaterra and Solfatara of Italy, 302 

South, the climate of the, 220 

South America, wool- bearing animals 
of, 495 

Staffordshire, South, at night, 53 

State, decadence of a, 72 

Stockings and Stocking-makers, 222 

Stone*, for buildinir, 254 
I Straw, various uses of, 394 
(Sugar-cane in Spain, 479 
Surf and Pore of Iudia, 86 
Swallows, opinions concerning, 443 
Switzerland, cooperative labour in, 
124; outdoor labour of females iu. 
180 
Tahiti, account of, 265 
Tapestry, 195 

Tea-drinking on the Neva, 152 
Temple Church, the, 125, 129, 141 
Toronto, wood-paving at, 232 
Tortola, lireakfasts at, 240 
Trinity House, account of, 22 
Trout, vuriety of the, 315 
True breeding, 2«0 
Tyrol, account of the, 469, 475 
Vegetable food, improved, 272 
Vegetable ivory, 443 
Velino, cataract of the, 232 
Vendemmia, 29 

Vesuvius, eruptions of Mount, 193 
Vienna, trades at, 376 
Vineyard cultivation, 128 
Wai.halla, the, 10 
Walnut-tree, uses of the, 43^ 
We rows, in Guiana, village of, 72 
Wasps, natural history of, 433 
Water-newts, uatural history of, 07' 
Water, hot, Inning for. 3J2 
Weather, iu London and Dublin. K<» 
Western Australia, vegetation of. it 2 
Whale oil, increasing consumption of*. 

Whitebait, 304 
Wines, use of brand v in, <M3 
Wire-ropes, 323 

Wolves in Spain, 32 ; European, 232 
Yano-Tse-Ktano River, C4 
Yew trees, account of, 69 
Youth and Age, 403 
Yucatan, ruined cities and rapid \ ■*,;. '. ;• 
tion of, 184 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 



SUBJECT. paob. PF.8IONERS. 

1 Sir Roger de Coverley and the ' Spec- 

tatoP 1 Harvey. 

2 Group of Bets ....*. . 4 Sly. 

3 Cliandalas 9 Standfast. 

4 Hatfield House 12 Auclav. 

6 Qneenstown, Cnnada .... 17 Simcoe. 

6 Etruscau Vase 20 Pairholt. 

7 Ditto 21 

8 Cimabue, and copy of one of hi* Pic- 

tures . . 25 Harvey. 

9 Italiau Peasant* with Fruit ... 29 Pinelli. 

10 Needle-pointer at work .... 33 Sly. 

11 Rubber straightening wires ... 35 

12 Stamper moulding the eyes . . 37 „ 

13 Pieicmg moulded eyes .... 38 ,, 

14 Stages of needle-making ... 38 ,, 

15 Comb of Needles 38 ., 



KNORAVERS. 





16 


Jackson. 


17 


Murdon. 


18 


Qu.irtley. 


19 


Green. 


20 


Sears. 


21 


Sly. 


22 




23 


II Clarke. 


24 


M.Hampton. 




Sears. 


25 


Hollo way. 


•J6 


,8 


27 


Crowe. 






28 


Wrngg. 


29 



SUBJECT. 
Soft-straightener ...... 

' StageB of the Needle-eye. . . . 

A Brahmen expounding the Veda . 
Nonsuch-House, Surrey .... 

Etruscan Vase . . . . . . 

Moles (Tnlpn Europmn) • . . 
Fort Chippewa on the Welland . 
I Sir Roger de Coverley and the ' Spec- 
tator' in the Picturo Gallery . 
i Madonua and infant Christ, troni 

Cimabue 

> English Cattle Drover . . • . 

1 Yew-Tree at Fountains Abbev . . 

Porcelain- Work*,.— Potter's Wheel, 

fee 

i Grinding the Flint, Clay, &c. . . 
Moulds for Porcelain, and C:»sts . 



PAOI 


nrsioNias. 


EKOKAVFfc 


39 


Slv. 


Murdon. 


40 


„ 


Sc ; ,r«. 


41 


Solwn. 


Ihdlow.iv. 


45 


Povuter. 


Jackson. 


48 


D.ckes. 


Slv. 


•i9 


Standout. 


Stars. 


52 


Simcoe. 


M 


57 


Hirvey. 


Jackson. 


60 




II. Cl.irke. 


05 


R. Davis. 


M.Iliimpt ni. 


(.9 


Jukes. 


Sears. 


73 


Doe. 




74 


., 


., 



Pal I in 4. 



1.3 1 300 



ILLUSTRATIONS. 



SUBJECT. PAOK. DKMONZRt. 

30 Fixing Hand let 77 Doc. 

31 Putting articles into 'Seggars' . 78 „ 

32 Placing * Seggars' in Biscuit-kiln . 78 Wells. 

33 Tcs^iUted Tiles 83 Doc. 

J4_irfking the Tiles 80 ,, 

35 Port of Shang-hae 81 Graham. 

36 Fort Erie, on Lake Kric. in 1770 . 85 Mrs. Simcoe. 

37 Head of Giotto, with two Angels 83 Harvey. 

34 Cedar at Hampstead 93 Jukes. 

39 Group of Water-Newts .... 97 Sly. 

4*1 Bheels 100 

41 Portrait of Dante, aOcr Giotto . . 104 Harvey. 

42 Sir R, dc Coverley leaviug Church li>5 " 

43 Poo choofoo 10J Graham. 

44 I.aee-liunnersatWork . . . . 113 Sly. 

45 String twisted as in Bobbin net . 115 „ 

46 Winding- Engine 116 ,, 

47 Parts of the Bobbin-net Machine .117 „ 

48 Juccpiard Apparstus . . . . 118 ,, 
i9 View in a Lace dressing Room . . 120 „ 

50 Specimen of Machiue Lace . . . 120 ,, 

51 Specimen of Run Lace .... 120 ,, 

52 John Preaching in the Wilderness.— 

From a Picture by Giotto . . 121 Harvey. 

53 The Exterior of the Tern pic Church 125 Anelay. 

54 The Temple Church, from Doorway 129 „ 

55 Female Figure, from Giotto . . 133 Harvey. 

56 Amoy in China 137 Graham. 

57 Eastern Extremity of the Temple 

Church, with Altar, &c. . . . 141 Auelay. 

58 Portraits of Taddeo Gaddi and An- 

drea Orcagna, with a View of the 

Campo Santo . . ... 145 Harvey. 

59 The Ameers of Sciude . . . . 14S Standfast. 

60 Sir R. de Coverley attending Assizes 153 Han ey. 
HI The Angel and Youth, from Orcagna 136 ,. 

62 Silk-Doublcrsat Work . . . . 101 B. Sly. 

63 Hanks of Silk 1G4 

64 Silk Winding Machine .... 165 

65 Silk-Sninning Machine .... KG ,, 

66 Silk-Throwing Machine .... 167 ., 

67 Silk Throwing or Spinning by Haud 167 ,, 

68 Machine for Cutting Lace-Tag* . 163 „ 

69 Machine for Fixing Lace-Ta^s. . 168 „ ' 

70 The Fox " . 169 Perring. 

7 1 The Casa Lonja of Barcelona . • 172 Shepherd. 

72 The English Sheep-Drover ... 177 R. Davis. 

73 Queen Elizabeth and her Court . 181 Fairholt. 

74 Annunciation, & Portrait of Ghtberti 185 Harvey. 
'. 5 The Mahrattas 188 Jam*. 

76 Diagrams of Bones ' 190 Jackson. 

77 Muscles of the Fore-arm ... 191 ., 

78 Vesuvius from a Drawing taken dur- 

ing the last Eruption .... 193 Tiffin. 

79 Group of Angels ...... 197 Harvcv. 

80 Mill-Room for Pottery .... 201 Well*.* 

81 Flint-Crushing 205 ,, 

82 Flint-Grinding 205 „ 

83 Pottery-Turning 206 „ 

84 Plate-Making 207 

85 Printing Blue-Ware 208 „ 

86 Transferring the Print .... 208 

87 Sir Roger de Coverley hunting . • 209 Harvey. 

HS Hedgehogs 213 Auelay. 

8J Head of Masaccici and Figure of St. 

Panl 217 Harvcv. 

90 Pointea-Pitro 220 C. Graham. 

i)l St. Peter and St. Paul restoring the 

dead Youth to Life 225 Harvey. 

9-2 Penshurst Church 228 Tiffiu. 

93 Orcliis Mascula . ' 228 

91 Cottage near Penshurst .... 229 ,, 

95 Sidney's Tree 229 „ 

06 Bristol in the 1 7lh Century . . . 233 SI v. 

97 The Source of the Duddon ... 236 Thorne. 

«>d Coeklev Brig 237 

*».) Power- Looms— Cotton Manufacture 241 B. Sly. 

1"0 Can-roviug Frame 246 „ 

101 Canting Engine 248 „ 

102 British Shrews 249 B. Sl>. 

103 Centre of Gravity of the Body . . 25J Fussell. 

104 A'.igle of Feet in standing ... 253 „ 

105 Centre of Gravity with burden on 

the back 253 „ 

106 Ditto with burden in front ... 254 „ 

107 Ditto of a corpulent Man . . . 25t ,. 

108 Coolies 257 Gilbert. 

109 Penshurst— General View . . . Ji6') Tiffin. 

110 Earl of Leicester's Bell at ditto . 262 

111 Tahiti— From an original Sketch . 265 Graham. 

112 The Duddon— The Stepping- Stoues 262 Thome. 

1 13 Ditto— Seathwaite Chapel ... 269 „ 

1 14 Portrait of Lippi, and Departure of 

voung St. John tor the D.sert . 273 Hnrvcv. 

115 Irish Pig- Drover 2/7 11. Davis. 

J 16 Portrait of Fiesole, and Coronation 

of the Virgin 281 Harvey. 

117 Penshurst Castle 2S5 Tiffin. 

118 Dye and Print- Works .— Washing 289 Surgeaut. 

J 19 Singeing 290 Wells. 

120 Ketr, or Boiler 290 „ 



E«*aa.iv Kas. 
Crowe. 
Wraag. 
Kirchncr, 
Holloway. 
Palling. 
Whimper. 
Sly. 

II. Clarke. 
Sly. 
Sears. 
Nugent. 
H. Clarke. 
Jnckson. 
Whimper. 
Welch. 
Wrnxg. 
Kirchucr. 
Sladcr. 

Welch. 
Cro*e. 

NugcuU 

II. Clarke. 
Jackson. 

H. Clarke. 
Whimper. 

Jackson. 



H. Clarke. 

Nugeut. 

Jackson. 

H. Clarke. 

Welch. 

Harding. 

Wragg. 

Nugent. 

Crowe, 

Wn.gg. 

Holloway. 

Scars, 

Sears. 

Holloway. 

M. Hampton. 

Slader. 

II. Clarke. 

Jewitt. 

Jackson. 



Jackson. 

II. Clarke. 

Jewitt. 

Wragg. 

Ma torn. 

Wragg. 

Crowe. 

Welch. 

Tuulmin. 

Jnckson. 

Holloway. 

II. Clarke. 
Whimper. 

H. Clarke. 
Jackson. 



Sly. 
Jackson. 

Scars. 

Nujjeut. 

Holloway. 

Jnckson. 



Nugent. 
Jackson. 

Whimper. 
Jacksou. 



II. Clsrke. 
M. Hampton. 

II. Clarke. 

Jacksou. 

Nugent. 

llomucy. 

Palling. 



SUBJECT. rzor. »esu»nkbs. 

Measuring 294 Perring. 

Block-Printing by Hand ... 294 Shepherd. 

Block -Printing by Machine . . . 294 Perriug. 

Cylinder Printing- Machiue . . . 296 B Sly. 

Sir II. de Coverley and the Portrait 297 Harvey. 
Portrait of Benozzo Gozzoli, and 

Dancing Figures 301 „ 

Group of Lizards 0O0 B. Sly. 

Ministering Angel, by L. Signorclli 309 Harvey. 

Seiks 313 Standfast.'. 

On the Duddon at Seathwaite . .315 Thorue. . 

Duddon Sands 16 ,. 

Tunbridge Castle 321 Tiffin. 

Centre of Gravity in the Human 

Figure, en-ct 325 FussclL 

Ditto in a Horizontal Position . 325 „ 

Ditto of a Horse's Head .... 325 „ 

Ditto of Mau in Walking . . . 326 „ * 

Ditto of the Rhinoceros .... 326 

Brussels-Carpet Loom .... 329 B. Sly. 

Combiug-wheel 331 Wells. 

Scotch-Carpet Loom 333 Perring. 

Clipping- machine ..... 3o4 Wells. 

Carpet Pattern 334 „ 

Persian-Rug Loom 334 Shepherd. 

British Snakes 337 Wells. 

TheSkelli^ 341 Anelay. 

The Model Prison, Pentonville . 345 

Blea Tarn, Langdale .... 348 Thorue. 

The Solitary Farm house, Langdale 349 „ 

Adder-stones 352 B. Sly. 

Chieftains of Cutch 353 Shepherd. 

The Highland Drover .... 35 > R.Davis. 

Falkland Palace, Fifeshirc ... 361 Harvey. 
The Virgin and Attendants, from 

Ghirlandajo 364 

Geuevra da Benci, from ditto . . 365 Harvey. 

Diagram of the Astrological Houses 367 Jackson. 

Sir R. de Coverley and the Gipsies 369 Harvey. 

Peasantry or Laugilale .... 3/2 Thorne. 

Dungeon Ghyll ...... 373 „ 

Boiler-Making . . • . . { . . 377 Welh. 

Cutting and Punching Machine . 3$ I „ 

Boring- Machine • 383 „ 

Pltining-Machino 3*?4 ,, 

Rajpoots 335 Shepherd. 

Madrid from the Manzanares • . »S9 Brown. 

Sir R. de Coverley and the Beggar 393 Harvey. 

Panama. — From an original Sketch 397 Graham. 

NestoftheHumblo-Bee . . . .401 Shepherd. 

Puerto Hello ....... 404 Graham. 

Portrait of A. Mantegna and Group 409 Harvey. 

Roman Peasants.— From Pinelli . 412 Poiter. 

Edinburgh 417 Harvey.; 

Harlot Alum-Mine 421 Wells. 

Stceping-Pits 424 „ 

Evaporating Boiler • • . • • 424 ,, 

Crystallizing Coolers 424 „ 

Sir Roger de Coverley In Westmin- 
ster Abbey . 425 Harvcv. 

ThcRohillos 429 Standfast. 

Astrological Horoscope .... 430 Fussell. 

Nest* of Hornets and Wasps . . 433 Wells. 

St. Christopher 436 Jackson. 

Pax of Maso Finigncrr? ♦ . . 437 Harvey. 

Afghans 441 Standfast. 

I,ord Mavor's Show-froni Hogarth 444 Fairholt. 

Wild Men 4J5 „ 

Whiffler and Hench-Boy .... 445 

Sir Roger de Coverley at the Play • 449 Harvey. 

The Triumph of Neptune ... 452 Fairholt. 

Positions of the Human Leg. • . 454 Fussell. 

Action of the Human Leg . • . 455 „ 

Coloured-Cloth Hall, Leeds . . 457 Wells. 

Fulliog-stocks 462 Jewitt. 

Hand-raising . • • . • . . 462 Shepherd. 

Cutting ami tlxing the Teazles . . 463 Wells. 

SirR.de Coverley and the Waterman 465 Harvey. 

Hall in the Tyrol 463 Tiffin. 

Hareficld, Middlesex .... 473 Harvey. 
Giovanni Bellini, and two groups 

from his paintings at Venice • . 477 .# 

Gentile Bellini 478 

Ants and their Nest 481 B. Sly. 

North Wall of Rich borough . ^. .486 Shepherd. 

Plan of Richborough 486 B. Sly. 

Death of Sir Roger de Coverley 

communicated to the Club . . 489 Harvey. 

Rninsof the Church of Reculver • 493 Shepherd. 

Bronze found at Reculver ... 493 B. Sly. 

Lincoln's Iun Buildings .... 497 ,, 
London Terminus of the Dover, 

Brighton, and Croydon Railway 496 Anelay. 

Cheltenham Proprietary College . 499 B. Sly. 

Glasgow Corn Exchange .... 500 „ 

Interior of Marshall's Flax-Mill . 501 L. Jewitt. 

Flax-heckling 505 „ 

Drawing out the heckled Flax • 606 „ 

Doubling the Drawings .... 506 „ 

Tow-carding ....... 507 •• 



Wrejjg. 

Holloway. 

Kirchner. 

Sears. 

Jackson. 

II. Clarke. 
Nugeut. 
H. Clarke. 
Sears. 
Jackson. 



Holloway. 

Williams. 

Horner. 

Wragg. 

Nugeut. 

Welch. 

Sears. 

Jackson. 



Wragg. 
Holloway. 
M.Hampton 
Jacksou. 

II. Clarke. 

Jacksou. 

M. Hampton. 

Jackson. 

Sears. 

Holloway. 

Welch. 

Nugent. 

Wragg. 

Jock »on. 

Whimper. 

NnK*"* 11 ' 

Whimper. 

II. Clarke. 

Hampton. 

Dalziel. 

Holloway. 

Nugent. 

Wra«g. 

Sears. 

Jackson. 

Nugent. 

Jsckson. 

Holloway. 

Jackson. 

Clarke. 

Sears. 

Jackson. 



Sears. 

Nngent. 

Weich. 

Horner. 

Jackson. 

W. T« Green. 



H. Clarke. 

Holiowa). 

Wragg- 

Palling- 

Jackson. 
Nugent. 
Crowe. 
Horner. 

Scar*. 

Wrastf. 

"Welch. 

Nugent. 

Horuer. 

Holloway. 

Romney. 

Sears. 



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[Sir Roger do Coverley and the ' Spectator.'] 



SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY.— No. I. 

It is pleasant to reflect upon the imperishable quality 
of many of those things, apparently trifling, which have 
the power of contributing to innocent enjoyment. 
The sports of childhood are essentially ancient. The 
top and the hoop have outlived many generations. 
'pi,™ :- « r__^.._ _:_i..„ i_ Lionardo da Vinci, in 

be pretty toy in which a 
fastened by tapes — at once 
dissevered and united ; and the toy is still sold for a 
halfpenny at the corner of every street. To ascend in 
the scale of enjoyment the melody which was delight- 
ful in the days of Queen Elizabeth is forgotten, per- 
haps, for two hundred years, and it suddenly springs 
into popularity in the days of Queen Victoria. For a 
quarter of a century country-dances were out of fashion. 
They are reviving; and with them comes back one of 
the oldest and most beautiful, with its courteous ad- 
vances, from the extremities of a long line, of the lady 
and the gentleman, — their turnings in the oentre, — 
their returnings, — the chain figure in which the lady 
winds through a line of gentlemen, and the gentleman 

no 691. 



through a line of ladies— and lastly, the arched hands 
under which every couple passes. This is Roger de 
Coverley, or Roger of Cowley. Cowley is a pretty vil- 
lage about two miles from Oxford; and here some one 
lived in the days of the Tudors who was famous enough 
to have his name linked with the pretty dance-tune 
that has once again become fashionable. But he had 
a higher honour. The popularity of the dance in the 
days of Queen Anne gave a name to the most famous 
character in * The Spectator ;' and ever afterwards the 
dance itself gathered an accession of dignity even in 
its name; and plain Roger of Cowley became Sir 
Roger de Coverley. 

The revival of the dance is propitious to our attempt 
to revive, for the general reader, those delightful 
papers of Addison and Steele which are devoted to the 
fictitious character of Sir Roger. Few people now 
read * The Spectator ' as a whole. Sume of the more 
celebrated essays, such as * The Vision of Mirza,' find 
their place in books of extract. The delicate humour 
of the delineation of Sir Roger de Coverley is always 
referred to as the highest effort of Addison's peculiar 
genius; but not many will take the pains to select 



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those sixteen or seventeen papers from the six hundred 
and thirty which form the entire work. These papers 
have a completeness about them which show how 
thoroughly they were written upon a settled plan. 
Steele appears to have first conceived the character in 
the second number of * The Spectator ;' but Addison 
very soon took it out of his friend's hands, who was 
scarcely able to carry on the portraiture with that re- 
finement which belonged to Addison's conception of 
the character. Addison, it is said, killed Sir Roger in 
the fear that another hand would spoil him. 

As a representation of manners a century and a half 
ago, the picture of Sir Roger de Coverley has a re- 
markable value. The good knight is thoroughly Eng- 
lish ; and in him we see a beautiful specimen of the old- 
fashioned gentleman, with a high soul of honour, real be- 
nevolence, acute sense, mixed up with the eccentricities 
which belong to a nation of humourists. The readers 
of ' The Spectator ' are fast diminishing. No one now 
gives " his days and nights to the volumes of Addison ;" 
but his gentle graceful humour has never been ex- 
celled, and nowhere is it more conspicuous than in 
the papers of which Sir Roger de Coverley is the hero. 

Trie plan of * The Spectator ' is founded upon the 
fiction of a club that assembles every Tuesday and 
Thursday to carry on the publication. Sir Roger does not 
appear highly qualified for a literary colleague — a col- 
laborateur* as the French style it, — but he nevertheless 
is the foremost in * The Spectator's ' " account of those 
gentlemen who are concerned with me in the work." 

44 The first of our society is a gentleman of Worces- 
tershire, of an ancient descent, a baronet, his name Sir 
Roger de Coverley. His great-grandfather was in- 
ventor of that famous country-dance which is called 
after him. All who know that shire are very well 
acquainted with the parts and merits of Sir Roger. 
He is a gentleman that is very singular in his behaviour, 
but his singularities proceed from his good sense, and 
are contradictions to the manners of the world, only as 
he thinks the world is in the wrong. However, this 
humour creates him no enemies, for he does nothing 
with sourness or obstinacy, and his being unconfined 
to modes and forms makes him but the readier and 
more capable to please and oblige all who know him. 
When he is in town he lives in Soho Square. It is said 
he keeps himself a bachelor by reason he was crossed 
in love by a perverse beautiful widow of the next 
county to him. Before this disappointment, Sir Roger 
was what you call a fine gentleman, had often supped 
with my Lord Rochester and Sir George Etherege, 
fought a duel upon his first coming to town, and 
kicked bully Dawson in a public coffee-house for 
calling him youngster : but being ill used by the above- 
mentioned widow, he was very serious for a year and 
a half; and though, his temper being naturally jovial, 
he at last got over it, he grew careless of himself, and 
never dressed afterward. He continues to wear a coat 
and doublet of the same cut that were in fashion at 
the time of his repulse, which, in his merry humours, 
he tells us has been in and out twelve times since he 
first wore it. He is now in his fifty-sixth year, cheer- 
ful, gay, and hearty ; keeps a good house both in town 
and country ; a great lover of mankind ; but there is 
such a mirthful cast in his behaviour, that he is rather 
beloved than esteemed. 

" His tenants grow rich, his servants look satisfied, 
all the young women profess love to him, and the young 
men arc glud of his company. When he comes into 
a house he calls the servants by their names, and talks 
all the way up stairs to a visit. I must not omit that 
Sir Roger is a justice of the quorum, that he fills the 
chair at a quarter-session with great abilities, and three 
months ago gained universal applause by explaining 
a passage in the Game Act." 



We hear little of Sir Roger, except an occasional 
opinion, till we reach the 106th number, when Addison 
takes up the man of whom he said " we are born for 
each otter." 

" Having often received an invitation from my 
friend Sir Roger de Coverley, to pass away a month 
with him in the country, I last week accompanied him 
thither, and am settled with him for some time at his 
country-house, where I intend to form several of my 
ensuing speculations. Sir Roger, who is very well 
acauainted with my humour, lets me rise and go to 
bed when I please, dine at his own table or in my 
chamber, as I think fit, sit still and say nothing with- 
out bidding me be merry. When the gentlemen of 
the country come to see him, he shows me at a distance. 
As I have been walking in his fields I have observed 
them stealing a sight of me over a hedge, and have 
heard the knight desiring them not to let me see them, 
for that I hated to be stared at. 

" I am the more at ease in Sir Roger's family, because 
it consists of sober, staid persons ; for as the knight is 
the best master in the world, he seldom changes nis 
servants; and as he is beloved by all about him, his 
servants never care for leaving him : by this means 
his domestics are all in years, and grown old with their 
master. You would take his valet-de-chambre for his 
brother ; his butler is grey-headed, his groom is one of 
the gravest men that I have ever seen, and his coach- 
man has the looks of a privy-councillor. You see the 
goodness of the master even in his old house-dog, and 
in a grey pad that is kept in the stable with great care 
and tenderness, out of regard to his past services, 
though he has been useless for several years. 

'• I could not but observe with a great deal of plea- 
sure the joy that appeared in the countenances Gf these 
ancient domestics upon my friend's arrival at his 
country-seat. Some of them could not refrain from 
tears at the sight of their old master ; every one of 
them pressed forward to do something for him, and 
seemed discouraged if they were not employed. At 
the same time the good old knight, with a mixture of 
the father and the master of the family, tempered the 
inquiries after his own affairs with several kind ques- 
tions relating to themselves. This humanity and 
goodnature engages everybody to him, so that when 
he is pleasant upon any of them, all his family are in 
good numour, and none so much as the person whom 
he diverts himself with : on the contrary, if he coughs, 
or betrays any infirmity of old age, it is easy for a 
stander-by to observe a secret concern in the looks of 
all his servants. 

" My worthy friend has put me under the particular 
care of his butler, who is a very prudent man, and, as 
well as the rest of his fellow-servants, wonderfully de- 
sirous of pleasing me, because they have often heard 
their master talk of me as of his particular friend." 

Such is the general outline of the character and 
position of Sir Roger de Coverley. In succeeding 
numbers we shall present his minuter features. 



PORTABLE DIORAMA.— DISSOLVING VIEWS. 

In a former number we gave an outline of the prin- 
ciples on which chiefly depend the effects produced at 
the Colosseum, the Cosmorama, the Panorama, the 
Diorama, and other similar exhibitions. Since then 
we have met with a suggestion by a Mr. Tait of 
Edinburgh, for the construction of a portable Diorama, 
which seems worthy of a few further observations. 

Mr. Tait communicated to the Society of Arts of 
Scotland a description of a small apparatus by which 
the nature and effects of the diorama could be ex- 
hibited in an instructing manner. But to understand 
this, it is necessary to advert to Daguerre's account of 



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the mode of painting dioramic pictures, as divulged by 
him to the French government. A dioramic picture 
is painted on both sides. It is a large piece of lawn 
or calico, if possible without a seam, or at least with 
seams as little perceptible as may be necessary. The 
colours laid on the front of the picture are viewed by 
reflected light coming from a point above and between 
the spectator and the picture ; while those laid on the 
back of the picture are viewed by transmitted light, 
emanating from a window behind. In painting the 
front, the • lights,* or white tints, are left out, so as to 
admit the passage of light through the picture from 
behind : and even in the dark parts no body-colours 
are used ; for though they would show well by reflected 
light, they would appear as mere black irregular masses 
by transmitted light. While painting the front, the 
painter works by reflected lignt ; but while painting 
the back, by transmitted light; because the effects 
intended to be produced can only thus be tested. 

Generally speaking, when a dioramic scene is repre- 
sented by day, and then by evening or moonlight, the 
day effect is painted on the front of the picture, and 
the night effect on the back ; and the admission of 
light is regulated according as the picture is to be 
viewed by reflected or transmitted light; in other 
words, according as it is to be a picture or a trans- 
parency. But in other cases a subject more or less 
different from the first is represented on the back, by 
which many of those startling effects have been pro- 
duced which are so familiar to the visitors at the ex- 
hibition in the Regent's Park. The exhibition-room, 
be it large or small, is provided with shutters, by 
which the amount of light to be admitted can always 
be regulated, from broad daylight to total exclusion. 
Ufog is to be represented, as it has been in many ex- 
hibited dioramas, the picture is placed at a greater or 
less distance behind a transparent screen ; the greater 
the distance, the more dim and foggy will the scene 
necessarily appear. 

All these arrangements, in order to produce the 
desired effect to the eye of a spectator, must be so 
managed that the picture may be at a distance from 
the eye, in a kind of room or recess ; and it is probable 
that this circumstance led Mr. Tait to the suggestion 
of a portable diorama. The machine may be a small 
oblong box, of any dimensions, to be viewed at one 
end. Small stretching-frames are prepared, over which 
pieces of transparent paper or linen are stretched to 
form the pictures. Any one of these, when painted 
and about to be used, is inserted in a groove in the 
interior of the box, at a distance equal to two-thirds of 
the length of the box from the end at which the eye 
is applied. The eye-hole is not simply a circular or 
square hole cut in the end of the box, but is a small 
tube two or three inches in length, placed opposite 
the * point of sight ' in the picture. The tube projects 
a little from the box, in order to assist the adjustment 
of the eye ; and the inner end is expanded sufficiently 
to expose to view the whole of the picture in the box. 

As a means of admitting light to act upon both sides 
of the picture at pleasure, two hinged covers are used, 
one at the ton of the box, and the other at the end 
remote from tne eye. Each cover, by a small pulley 
and balance weight, or any similar contrivance, is 
made to remain stationary in any required position. 
When the top cover is closed and the end one open, 
light falls on the back, but not on the front of the 
picture, and a person applying his eye at the tube 
would see the picture only by transmitted light. When 
the top cover is open and the ends are closed, the 
reverse of that occurs, and a spectator views the 
picture by reflected light. When any medium* ar- 
rangement is adopted, such as one cover being open 
and the other partially closed, one closed and the other 



partially closed, or both partially closed, numerous varia- 
tions of light and shade and tint in the picture are ob- 
served. Passing gleams of sunshine, day melting into 
night, and this into moonlight — and all similar changes, 
may be imitated with some approach to completeness. 

The inside of the eye-tube, and everything which 
could distract the eye from the picture, is painted 
black ; while the inner surfaces of the covers which 
may aid in reflecting light upon the picture are 
painted white. Screens of fine tissue-paper. Persian 
silk, or some other thin substance, are placed across 
the openings when the covers are raised, if a subdued 
light be required; and remarkable modifications of 
the effect may be produced by having these media 
coloured. The pictures may be viewed by the naked 
eye through the tube, or a lens might be employed to 
alter the effect. 

It is not difficult to see that such a contrivance is an 
exact copy of the large diorama, in all its essential 
features. The construction of the box is a matter 
involving no great mechanical difficulties. The paint- 
ing of the pictures is the feature which calls for most 
talent : for here attention must be paid to the different 
character or tone which reflected light and transmitted 
light throw over a picture, to the degree of opacity or 
transparency which different pigments will* present, 
to the hues which natural scenery exhibits at different 
hours of the day, and to the character of the shadows 
produced by objects. The more carefully these mat- 
ters are attended to, the better will be the miniature 
diorama. 

There has been, within the last year or two, a kind 
of pictorial exhibition in London, called " Dissolving 
Views.' These views are examples of a superior kind of 
phantasmagoric exhibition, or " magic-Ian tern,"' in 
which striking effects are produced by simple but very 
ingenious means. 

The phenomenon of a " dissolving " view consists 
in the adjustment of two views, or two lantern slides, 
in such a manner that one shall gradually disappear 
while the other comes in sight, the images of both 
occupying the same spot on the screen or wall. It 
is said that a German named Philipsthal, who intro- 
duced the phantasmagoria about sixty years ago, also 
gave the first rough idea of the "dissolving" views. 
He was in the habit of representing, among other sub- 
jects, the raising of the gnost of Samuel by the Witch 
of Endor, in which he made the phantom appear to 
rise from the ground; but he conceived that if he em- 
ployed two lanterns and slides, making the wick of one 
rise while he lowered that of the other, and directing 
both images to one spot, a more aerial and supernatu- 
ral effect might be produced. This method succeeded, 
and Philipsthal was led to the adoption of similar ar- 
rangements for representing landscape scenery. 

The improvements which have been made within the 
last few years have brought this plan to a point of 
great excellence. Two sliders or painted glasses are 
used, illuminated by one intense jet, having their de- 
vices represented on a screen, the localization to one 
spot being effected by optical means. While one pic- 
ture is being exhibited, the other is hidden by a cover 
or shutter ; and the effect of " dissolving," which is 
very remarkable, is produced by the gradual and si- 
multaneous closing of one picture and opening of 
another. If, while one picture is being exhibited, the 
other is being changed for a third, and if while this 
third picture is under exhibition the second be ex 
changed for a fourth, and so on, an extensive series 
may be exhibited, each one apparently melting or 
dissolving into the succeeding one. This, like many 
other contrivances, appears simple enough when 
known ; but the simplicity does not detract from the 
merit of the artists who contrived the arrangement. 

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t fl. Common Bat (Vwprrtiho pipiitrrllus) ; 6, Great Bat (V. nortula) ; C, Long eared Ikt (V. nnriUu).] 



CURIOSITIES OF BRITISH NATURAL 
HISTORY. 

BATS. 

It may surprise some of our readers to be informed 
that sixteen or seventeen distinct species of bats are 
natives of the British Islands. Of these, however, seve- 
ral arc extremely rare, and restricted to certain locali- 
ties ; but some, as the Pipistrelle, or common bat, and 
the long-eared bat ( Vespertilio auritu*X are everywhere 
abundant ; nor is the great bat ( V. Noctula) of unfre- 
quent occurrence. 

Of all the mammalia the bats alone emulate in their 
aerial endowments the feathered tenants of the sky ; 
they are essentially flying insectivora. In the air they 
pass the active periods of their existence, and revel in 
the exercise of their faculties. Their organs of flight, 
admirably adapted for their destined purpose, do not 
consist, as in the bird, of stiff feathers based upon the 
bones of the fore-arm, but of a membranous expansion 
stretched over and between the limbs, and to which the 
bones of the limbs, especially those of the elongated 
fingers, serve the same purpose as the strips of whale- 
bone in am umbrella. This apparatus can be folded 
up, and the limbs employed in progression on the 
ground ; on a level surface, however, the bat shuffles 
awkwardly but quickly along. In the hollo wb of de- 
cayed trees, in the crevices of mouldering masonry, 
or in rough chinks and fissures, it can crawl and climb 
about with tolerable rapidity, as also about the wire- 
work of a cage, a circumstance we have often witnessed. 
It is a smooth and level surface that most embarrasses 
the bat, but even then it can easily take wing. In the 
air the bat is all alertness, — it is here that these singu- 
lar creatures pursue their insect prey— uttering their 
short sharp cry as they wheel in circling flights, or 
perform their abrupt and zigzag evolutions. Bats, says 
White, " drink on the wing like swallows, by sipping 



the surface as they play over pools and streams. They 
love to frequent waters, not only for the sake of drink- 
ing, but also on account of the insects, which are foui.d 
over them in the greatest plenty." Often during a 
warm summer evening have we 'seen numbers, per- 
haps several scores, of the common bat ( V. Pipistreuus) 
flitting over pools, in chase of gnats and similar insects, 
or gambolling with each other in a mazy dance, ever 
and anon uttering sharp shrill cries of exultation and 
delight ; an interesting spectacle to such as love to 
" trace the woods and lawns and living stream at eve." 

The bat is a twilight and nocturnal rambler: it 
passes the day in its retreat suspended head downwards, 
clinging to any roughness or projection by the claws 
of its hinder feet. In this position it hibernates in a 
state of lethargy ; numbers congregating together. 
Church steeples, hollow trees, old barns, caverns, and 
similar retreats are its lurking-places ; and vast num- 
bers are often found crowded closely together and form- 
ing a compact mass. Pennant states that on one occa- 
sion, as he was informed by the Rev. Dr. Backhouse, 
one hundred and eighty-five were taken from under 
the eaves of Queen % s College, Cambridge, and on the 
next night sixty-three more ; all in a torpid condition. 
They were all of one species, viz., the Noctule, or 
great bat ( V. Noctttla\ tne largest of our British bats, 
measuring fourteen or fifteen inches in the extent of 
the wings. The great horse-shoe bat haunts the 
deepest recesses of caverns, where no rays of light can 
enter. It is found in the caverns at Clifton, and in 
Kent's Hole near Torquay, a dark and gloomy cavern, 
where the lesser horse-shoe bat also takes up its abode. 

It has been suspected that some of our British bats 
may possibly migrate, and pass the winter, like the 
swallow, in some genial region where their insect prey 
is abundant. For this supposition there is not the 
slightest foundation : all our bats hybernate ; but the 
period at which they become torpid in their retreats, 



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and revive to visit again " the glimpses of the moon," 
differs in the different species. The Pipistrelle, or com- 
mon British hat, is the soonest roused from its lethargic 
trance. It usually appears in March, and does not 
retire until the winter has decidedly set in, and its 
insect food has disappeared. Yet during the winter it 
will often rouse up and flit about, and that too during 
the middle of the day, as we have ourselves often wit- 
nessed. We have seen it abroad in November and 
December, though the weather was cold, and a friend 
shot one of these bats just before Christmas in the 
middle of the day, which, though the temperature was 
near or at the freezing-point, was clear and bright. 
The Noctule appears at the latter end of April, and 
seeks its winter dormitory in August. The long-eared 
bat (Plecotus auritus) is active in the early part of 
October. 

The various species of our bats differ more or less 
distinctly from each other in the style and character 
of their flight. The Pipistrelle flits quickly, making 
abrupt and zigzag turns, and often skims near the 
ground ; the Noctule, which was first noticed as an 
English bat by White, sweeps high in the air on 
powerful wings, whence he termed it altivolans. On 
one occasion we saw three or four of this species 
wheeling round a row of sycamore trees in Kent, ut- 
tering continually sharp grating cries. The chafer 
(Melolontha vulgaris) was at the same time flying 
about in yreat numbers, and no doubt proved a source 
of attraction to them. The flight of the long-eared 
bat is rapid, and it makes large circles, or courses to 
and fro like the swallow. In the aerial evolutions of 
the bats, the tail and membrane extending between 
the two hind limbs act as a rudder, enabling the ani- 
mals to turn more or less abruptly: it would seem 
moreover that the tail is to a certain extent a prehen- 
sile organ. Mr. Bell, who first noticed the circum- 
stance, observes, that a small portion of the tail in 
most of our bats is exserted beyond the margin of the 
interfemoral membrane, and in ascending or descend- 
ing any rough perpendicular surface this little caudal 
finger hooks upon such projections as occur, so as to 
add to the creature's security. When a bat traverses 
the wires of a cage this action of the tail is particularly 
conspicuous. 

White observes that it is a common notion that bats 
will descend chimneys •• and gnaw men's bacon," and 
adds that the story is by no means improbable, as a 
tame bat did not refuse raw flesh, though insects seemed 
to be most acceptable. The common bat often enters 
larders, and has been seen clinging to a joint of meat 
in the act of making a hearty meal upon it. Of this 
circumstance we are assured by Mr. Bell. 

That bats can be tamed is a remarkable fact ; but 
various species differ in the degrees of their docility. 
Mr. White's bat, a Pipistrelle, was so tame, that it 
would take flies out of a person's hand. "If you 
gave it anything to eat it brought its wings round 
before the mouth, hovering, and hiding its head in the 
manner of birds of prey when they feed. The adroit- 
ness it showed in shearing off the wings of the flies, 
which were always rejected, was worthy of observation, 
and pleased me much.'' 

In the « Proceedings of the Zoological Society ' for 
1834 we find the following interesting details relative 
to the habits of the Pipistrelle in captivity, by Mr. G. 
Daniell. In July, 1833, he received five specimens of 
this little bat from Elvetham, Hampshire ; all were 
females, and pregnant. " They had been kept in a tin 
powder-canister for several days, and on being turned 
loose into a common packing-case with a few strips of 
deal nailed over it to fdrm a cage, they exhibited much 
activity, progressing rapidly along the bottom of the 
box, ascending the bars to the top, and then throwing 



themselves off as if endeavouring to fly. They ate flies 
when offered to them, seizing them with the greatest 
eagerness, and devouring them greedily, all of them 
congregating together at the end of the box at which 
they were fed, crawling over, snapping at, and biting 
each other, at the same time uttering a grating kind of 
squeak. Cooked meat was next presented to them, and 
rejected ; but raw beef was eaten by them with avidity, 
and with an evident preference for such pieces as had 
been moistened with water. This answered a double 
purpose : the weather being warm, numbers of blue- 
Dottle flies (Musca vomitoria, Linn.) were attracted oy 
the meat, and on approaching within range of the 
bat's wings were struck down by their action, the ani- 
mal itself falling at the same moment with all its 
membranes expanded and cowering over the prostrate 
fly, with its head thrust under, in order to secure its 
prey. When the head was again drawn forth, the 
membranes were immediately closed, and the fly was 
observed to be invariably, taken by the head. Mastica- 
tion appeared to be a laboured occupation, consisting 
of a succession of eager bites or snaps, the sucking 
process (if it may be so termed) by which the insect 
was drawn into the mouth being much assisted by the 
looseness of the lips. Several minutes were employed 
in devouring a large fly. In the first instance the flies 
were eaten entire, but Mr. Daniell afterwards observed 
detached wings in the bottom of the box. These, how- 
ever, he never saw rejected, and he is inclined to think 
that they are generally swallowed. A slice of beef at- 
tached to the side of the box was found not only to save 
trouble in feeding, but also, by attracting the flies, to 
afford good sport in observing the animalB obtain their 
food by this new kind of bat-fowling. Their olfactory 
nerves appear to be very acutely sensible. When 
hanging fey their posterior extremities and attached to 
one of the bars in front of the cage, a small piece of 
beef at a little distance from their noses would remain 
unnoticed ; but when a fly was placed in the same situ- 
ation, they would instantly begin snapping at it. The 
beef they would eat when hungry, but they never re- 
fused a fly. In the daytime they often clustered together 
in a corner, but towards the evening they became very 
lively, and gave rapid utterance to their harsh grating 
notes. One of them died on the fifth day after they 
came into Mr. Daniell's possession, two on the four- 
teenth, the fourth survived until the eighteenth, and 
the fifth until the nineteenth day." Each was found to 
contain a single young one. On the 16th of May, 1834, 
the same gentleman procured five specimens of the 
Noctule bat, four females and a male. The latter, 
which died in two days, was very impatient of confine- 
ment, restless and savage, snapping at the females and 
breaking his teeth in his attempts to escape by biting 
the wires of the cage. He constantly rejected food. 
The females were also at first sulky, but in about two 
days began to eat, preferring small bits of beef in pre- 
ference to flies, beetles, or gentles. In the course of 
a few days three of these died, each found to be preg- 
nant with a single offspring. The survivor lived for 
more than a month, and fed in preference upon the 
hearts and livers of fowls : she rejected large flies, but 
partially devoured one or two chafers {Melolontha 
vulgaris). In taking food, it was remarked that the 
wings were not thrown forward as in the Pipistrelle. 
the food being seized with an action similar to that ol 
a dog. The water that drained from the food was 
lapped, but the Noctule did not raise its head in drink- 
ing as the Pipistrelle was observed to do. This Noctule 
took great pains in cleansing herself; she used the 
hinder limbs as combs, parting the hair on either side 
from head to tail, and forming a straight line down the 
middle of the back. The membrane of the wings was 
cleaned by the creature's nose, which it forced through 



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[January 7, 



the folds so as to expand them. During her captivity 
she brought forth a single offspring perfectly destitute 
of hair and blind : this she wrapped up so closely as to 
prevent any observation being made. In the evening 
of the day after giving birth to her offspring she died. 
But the young one was alive, and attached to the teat 
of the mother; whence it was removed, wrapped in 
warm flannel, and fed with milk, which it took from a 
sponge. It survived eight days, at which time its eyes 
had not opened, and it had acquired very little hair. 
The long-eared bat seems to be far more docile than 
the Noctule. In captivity this elegant species is con- 
fident and familiar, very careful in cleaning its fur, 
and enjoying to gambol and play with others of its 
species, pretending to bite as we see dogs do when in 
good-humoured sport. Mr. Bell informs us that Mr. 
James Sowerby possessed a lon«2j-eared bat, which 
when at liberty in the parlour would come to the hand 
of those who held a fly towards it, and take the insect 
without hesitation. " If the insect were held between 
the lips, the bat would then settle on its young patron's 
cheek, and take the fly with great gentleness from 
the mouth ; and so far was this familiarity carried, that 
when either of my young friends made a humming 
noise with the mouth in imitation of an insect, the bat 
would search about the lips for the promised dainty." 

The Barbastelle ( Vespertilio Barbastellus, Linn.) is 
timid and restless, and very impatient of confinement. 
This bat seems to become torpid more readily than 
most of our British bats, and also more completely so. 
The reddish-grey bat {Vespertilio Nattereri) was 
found by Mr. Bell to be very familiar and confiding, 
readily taking food from the hand ; while the whiskered 
bat {y. mystacinus) is timid and restless, and, refusing 
food, soon dies after its capture. The Barbastelle, the 
long-eared bat, and the two last mentioned, often hy- 
bernate in caverns. Mr. BelFs specimens were found 
with others in a large chalk cavern in Kent excavated 
at the bottom of a shaft seventy feet deep. 

With regard to the senses possessed by these interest- 
ing animals, those of* smell and hearing are, as might 
be expected from the development of their respective 
organs, wonderfully acute. Connected with the refine- 
ment of these senses, we often find, as in the horse-shoe 
bat, the nose furnished with a membranous foliation 
of most delicate structure and complex in its arrange- 
ment ; or, as in the long-eared bat, the external mem- 
branous ears largely expanded, having furrows and an 
inner reduplication, and capable of being folded down. 
The sight also is quick, and the position of the eyes, 
which are small, but bright, is favourable for the chase 
and accurate seizure of insects during rapid flight. 

There is a singular property with which the bat is 
endowed, too remarkable and curious to be passed al- 
together unnoticed. The wings of these creatures 
consist, as we have seen, of a delicate and nearly naked 
membrane of vast amplitude considering the size of 
the body ; but besides this, the nose is in some furnished 
with a membranous foliation, and in others the exter- 
nal membranous ears are enormously developed. Now 
these membranous tissues have their sensibility so 
high, that something like a new sense thereby accrues, 
as if in aid of that of sight. The modified impressions 
which the air in quiescence, or in motion, however 
slight, communicates ; the tremulous jar of its currents, 
its temperature, the indescribable condition of such 
portions of air as are in contact with different bodies, 
are all apparently appreciated by the bat. If the eyes 
of a bat be covered up, nay, if it be even cruelly de- 
prived of sight, it will pursue its course about a room 
with a thousand obstacles in its way, avoiding them 
all, neither dashing against a wall nor flying foul of 
the smallest thing, but threading its way with the 
utmost precision and quickness, and passing adroitly 



through apertures, or the interspaces of threads placed 
purposely across the apartment. This endowment, 
which almost exceeds belief, has been abundantly de- 
monstrated by the experiments of Spallanzani and 
others : it is the sense of touch refined to the highest 
and most exquisite degree of perfection. Thus arc 
the bats aerial in feeling as in habits. 

Full, then, of interest is the history of our British 
Bats, of which we have selected a few details. To 
watch their ways and actions, what time evening 
assumes *' her gradual dusky veil," when the silence 
of the tranquil scene is unbroken, save by their sharp 
reiterated cry, the churr of the goatsucker, and drowsy 
hum of the shard-borne beetle, is alike pleasing to the 
contemplative man and the naturalist. 



THE PRIVILEGES AND LIABILITIES OF 
BRITISH SHIPPING. 

Accustomed as we are to the use of articles of foreign 
produce, and conscious as we may be of the vast mari- 
time arrangements involved in the importation of such 
articles into England, there are yet probably few, 
unconnected commercially with the subject, who 
bestow much thought on the privileges conceded to 
English shipping, ship-owners, and commanders, in 
this respect. The tea, the sugar, the hemp, the timber, 
the wine, which find their way to England, must 
obviously do so in ships belonging either to British or 
to foreign ship-owners ; and the determination of the 
ratio in which this freighting privilege shall be divided 
has led to laws and regulations which merit a little 
attention. 

Mr. M'Culloch states that so long ago as the reign 
of Henry VII. a law existed whereby the importation 
of certain commodities was prohibited, unless imported 
in ships belonging to British owners and manned by 
British seamen. In the early part of the reign of 
Elizabeth foreign ships were excluded from our 
fisheries and coasting-trade. In the time of the Com- 
monwealth foreign snips, belonging to whatever nation, 
were prohibited from trading with the plantations in 
America, without having previously obtained a licence. 
These however were minor regulations, quite eclipsed 
by a law passed in 1631, which gave a tinge to the 
maritime transactions of England from that time down 
to a comparatively recent period. England was at 
that period in bitter enmity with Holland, whose ship- 
owners were the great carriers for nearly all the nations 
of Europe ; and it was to crush this power in a rival 
nation that the republican parliament passed the law 
in question. By the terms of this enactment, no goods 
or commodities whatever, grown, produced, or manu- 
factured in Asia, Africa, or America, could be im- 
ported into England, Ireland, or the Colonies, except 
in ships belonging to English subjects, and of which 
the master and the greater number of the crew were 
also English. The import-trade of three out of the 
four quarters of the globe having been thus secured 
to the English ship-owners, the act proceeded to 
secure to them as much as possible of the European 
trade ; and for this purpose it declared that no com- 
modities of any European country should be imported 
into England, except by English ships, or by ships 
belonging to the countries where the exported goods 
were produced. This latter clause was intended ex- 
pressly to act against the Dutch ; for scarcely any of 
their produce came at that time to England, the mer- 
chant-ships of Holland having more frequently come 
to this country in the capacity of carriers for other 
countries. By the new law, any commodities imported 
from France, Spain, or Italy, tor example, were to be 
brought either in English snips, or in French, Spanish, 



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or Italian ships, as the case might be ; thus excluding 
the carrying ships of Holland. 

Shortly afterwards the prohibition was relaxed to 
this extent : that while Russian and Turkish produce, 
as well as timber, grain, tar, hemp, flax, wine, spirits, 
sugar, and a few other articles, were to remain subject 
to the above regulations, all other commodities might 
be imported in any ships whatever. But this change 
was of little importance, for all the most important 
articles came under the " exceptions." In the reign 
of Charles II. the national animosity between England 
and Holland led to an enactment of extreme rigour, 
carrying the maritime exclusiveness to an extravagant 
extent ; for it prohibited the importation from Hol- 
land, the Netherlands, and Germany, of a long list of 
commodities, under any circumstances, or in any 
vessels, whether British or foreign, under the penalty 
of seizure and confiscation of the ships and goods. 
This last-mentioned act was virtually one of exclusion 
rather than of commercial regulation ; but it had for 
many years considerable influence on foreign ship- 
owners. 

It was not until a very recent period (1833) that 
these laws were placed upon such a footing as to allow 
to foreign ships a privilege at all analogous to that 
enjoyed by English ; and this change was only wrought 
when experience showed that other nations were about 
to retaliate. It may be flattering to the national vanity 
to know that British ships and British seamen are 
employed to bring foreign produce to our shore ; but 
the maintenance of an analogous principle by other 
countries would be a perfectly just retaliation. The 
Americans in 1787, and the Northern powers of 
Europe at a later period, adopted, or proposed to 
adopt, measures avowedly copied; from the navigation 
laws of England ; so that if timely concessions had not 
been made, the English ship-owners would have 
severely suffered. 

The regulations which came into force nine years 
ago, respecting the relative privileges of British and 
foreign shipping in importing foreign produce into 
England, involve the following as the chief points : — 
A list of what are called " enumerated articles " in- 
cludes those which must be imported under one of 
these three circumstances : in British ships ; in ships of 
the country where the goods were produced ; or in ships 
of the country from whence the goods were shipped. 
This list includes masts, timber, boards, tar, tallow, 
hemp, flax, currants, raisins, figs, prunes, olive oil, 
corn or grain, wine, brandy, tobacco, wool, shumac, 
madder, madder-roots, barilla, brimstone, oak-bark, 
cork, oranges, lemon, linseed, rape-seed, and clover- 
seed. Goods which are the produce or growth or 
manufacture of Asia, Africa, or America, are not to 
be imported into England from any European country, 
with some few exceptions: this evidently has rela- 
tion to the employment of English shipping, in pre- 
ference to foreign European shipping, in bringing 
produce from distant countries to England. All 
goods imported from the Channel Islands must freight 
British ships only. All exports to our own colonies 
are to be in British ships ; as likewise goods carried 
coastwise from one part of the British Islands to 
another, or from any one of our colonies to another. 
Lastly, any goods taken to one of our colonies in a 
foreign ship must be so taken only in a ship of the 
country where the goods were produced, or from 
whence they were exported. 

As many advantages arc thus given to English ship- 
ping over those of foreign countries, it may be asked 
now these British ships may be always able to desig- 
nate themselves and to maintain their identity as such. 
This is effected by a remarkable system of registration 
maintained through the medium of the Custom- House 



officers. Vessels which are claimed by their owners to 
be placed on the registry, must be the property of the 
British sovereign's subjects, and must have been built 
in the British dominions or dependencies, or have been 
prize vessels legally condemned. The collectors and 
comptrollers of the Customs are generally the parties 
who register the shipping, and who grant certificates 
of registry to the owners. So severe are the laws in 
this respect, that if any ship were to exercise the pri- 
vileges of a British ship before the owners have 
obtained a certificate of registry, the ship with the 
whole of its contents would become forfeited to the 
crown, and might be seized by the officers of the Cus- 
toms. In order to reduce the immense mass of ship- 
ping within something like navigable order, every 
registered ship is supposed to *' belong " to some par- 
ticular British port, the Customs' officers of which 
grant the requisite certificate, and make the requisite 
entry in the register. The port to which a ship is said 
to belong is generally the nearest one to the residence 
of the chief owner of the vessel. The proprietorship 
of every ship, if there be more than one owner, is sup- 
posed to be divided into sixty-four equal parts or 
shares, which may be held by few or many share- 
holders, not exceeding thirty-two ; and not only must 
every shareholder's name be entered on the certificate 
of registry, but if any transfer of shares should take 
place, the registry must be re-effected. No person, 
with some few exceptions, who has taken the oath of 
allegiance to a foreign power can become the owner 
of a British ship. 

In order that the registry may be a bond fide one, it 
is necessary that the kind and quality of the ship be 
recorded ; and in order to effect this, every ship is 
thoroughly examined and surveyed before registry by 
certain Customs' officers and shipwrights, to determine 
the tonnage and the general character of the ship. The 
ship is registered by a particular name, which is not 
to fee afterwards changed. If the vessel after being 
registered undergoes any material alterations, it must 
be registered anew. If the vessel undergoes repairs 
in a foreign country exceeding the amount of \L per 
ton burden, it ceases to be a British ship, unless the 
owners or commander can show that such repairs were 
absolutely necessary at the time for the safe completion 
of the voyage. 

It will thus be perceived that a great many condi- 
tions must be fulfilled before a vessel can rank as a 
British ship, and share in the privileges granted to 
British shipping. But besides trie vessel itself, there 
are other matters to be attended to before a ship can 
engage in commerce as a British ship. For instance, 
every such ship must be navigated during the whole 
of every voyage, whether with a cargo or in ballast, in 
every part of the world, by a master who is a British 
subject, and by a crew of which three-fourths at least 
are British seamen. If the ship is employed in the 
coasting trade or in fishing on the British coasts, the 
whole of the crew must be British seamen. If on any 
occasion a registered ship is navigated by more than 
the prescribed number of foreign seamen, a penalty of 
10/. for each one in excess is incurred. 

These regulations render necessary a determination 
of the question, not only what constitutes a British 
ship, but who are British seamen ? A British seaman, 
in the legal acceptation of the term, must be a natural- 
born subject of the British sovereign, or must have 
been naturalized by act of parliament, or must have 
been made a denizen, or have become a British subject 
by the conquest or cession of some newly-acquired ter- 
ritory, or (being a foreigner) must have served on 
board an English ship of war, in time of war, for the 
space of three years. Any of these may obtain the pri- 
vileges, such as they are, of British seamen, and are 



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[January 7, 



protected by certain laws respecting: hiring, payment 
of wages, and the conduct of tneir officers. 

A committee of the House of Commons, appointed 
in 1836 to inquire into the causes of the numerous 
shipwrecks which occurred about that time, suggested, 
in reference to the registration of ships and seamen, 
that a * Mercantile Marine Board/ appointed for the 
control of merchant-ships generally, snould perfect " a 
system of classification of ships, to the utmost attain- 
able point of accurately defining, by such classification, 
the real state and condition of every ship registered ;" 
—should " collect information as to the best materials 
for building, surveying, fitting-out, equipping, load- 
ing, and furnishing with the requisite supply of men, 
provisions, water, and boats, all ships built and regis- 
tered in the United Kingdom ;" — should form certain 
standards of qualification in seamanship, navigation, 
and nautical astronomy, to be attained by officers and 
masters before receiving licences of appointment in 
the merchant-service ; — and should form registry-offices 
for recording the name, age, capacity, and character 
of British merchant-seamen, with a view to advance 
the praiseworthy and set aside the unfitting. These 
recommendations have not yet been acted on. Mean- 
while the " underwriters," or insurers of ships, have 
adopted a system of registration for their own pur- 
poses well worthy of our notice in a future article. 



Usefulness of AJoles. — Our Correspoudeut, whose communica- 
tion on the utility of moles 111 destroying the wire -worm and 
other grubs which feed on the plants of the young corn will be 
found in No. 618, has furnished the following additional infor- 
mation on this subject : — •• I had," he says, " a small field of 
rye-grass and clover, out end of which, early in the spring, was 
like a honeycomb from workings of moles. A farmer would 
have destroyed the workers ; I, on the contrary, protected them, 
and not one was destroyed : but I took care to level the mould 
which tbey threw up almost every day ; and now to the practical 
result I lately cut my crop, which was a very good one gene- 
rally ; but at the end, where the moles worked, the crop wee 
better than in any other part; and now not a mole can be dis- 
covered in the field. Tbey did the work designed to them by a 
wise Providence— ate up all the grubs which would have de- 
stroyed my young plants, and theu took their departure to some 
neighbour s field, where doubtless they will be trapped. Another 
remark as regards birds : for example, as to those small birds 
which are seeu upon fruit-trees, such as the titmouse : the vulgar 
opinion is that they destroy the buds, and thus injure or ruin the 
crop. Now I never suffer one of that kind of birds to be killed, 
but rejoice to see them, and protect them ; and I would rather 
see a superabundance of sparrows than none at all, even by way 
of profit ; and the consequence is, that I have very frequently 
had a crop of fruit when my neighbours have had none. Again, 
as you pass cottage-gardens, you very frequently see the leaves 
eaten off the cabbages and gooseberry and currant bushes growing 
near the doors by caterpillars ; whilst cabbages in the fields and 
fruit-trees at a distance from houses are flourishing and left un- 
touched. Here again the same cause is in operation ; the small 
birds, which would have destroyed the insects, are driven from 
the doors, but perform their natural operations at a distance 
from thera.' , 

Autumnal Travelkng in Siberia, — We made our first journey 
en traineau here ; and bad enough it was in that way — on wheels 
it would have been impossible. The road was very mountain- 
ous, and lay through forests for eight or ten versts together, 
where the snow was drilled to the height of many feet; through 
which we had to force our way, it not being yet sufficiently hard 
to resist the horses' feet. In the rapid descent! we constantly 
rolled over and over ; and three horses to a light traineau had the 
greatest difficulty in getting up the long sleep hills of snow, 
where there was no solid footing for them. What we should 
have done with our carriage ou such roads we know not ; and we 
had still a long journey before us before we should come to any 
town where we could leave it till our return from the far East, 
and to take it on the whole way was out of the question. The 
next day a council of war was held; when it was decided we 



should go on to Durnaoul on wheels, a distance of two hundred 
and eighty versts : hut the road was represented as good, and we 
were told we should find much snow, it being mostly over a dead 
flat. Accordingly the carriage was fortified with very strong 
ashen shafts, which were fixed all rouud it, so as to force a pas- 
sage through the snow in the case of need ; and thus we started 
for Baruaoul. Bad as our journey liad been for some time past, 
it was evideut we had not reached the maximum, and that every 
day the roads would be worse, till the snow had settled down 
into solidity, which, in parts where there is little communication, 
requires some time. We had generally ten or twelve horses the 
whole of this journey, and did not with all average above five 
versts an hour. Our first stage was mountainous ; but after that 
the steppes began again, with driving snow and wind, almost 
amounting to what is called in this country a buran, or whirl- 
wind, which is often fatal to travellers if accompanied with snow 
iu any quantity. Having tried the e fleet* of fire, water, and air, 
under tneir most fearful forms, we are inclined to give the pre- 
eminence iu point of horror to the latter. A buran which over- 
takes you in a forest is less formidable, because you cannot well 
get out of the right track, and the only danger is being buried 
alive in the snow. But in an open steppe country, when it is 
very violent, the snow which is tailing becomes whirled round, 
and mixed with that which the wind raises from the ground ; so 
that in broad daylight the driver cannot see an inch before him, 
and does not know whether he is jroing to the right or to the left. 
Many fatal accidents occur in this way ; carriages being rolled 
down precipices, or men and horses frosen to death in the drifted 
snow, which naturally collects round the only object which 
interrupts its course for miles and miles. — CottreUs Recollec- 
tions of Siberia. 

Importance of Cities, — If the history of cities and of their in- 
fluence on their respective territories be deducted from the history 
of humanity, the narrative remaining would be, as we suspect, 
of no very attractive description. In such case, the kind of pic- 
ture which human society must everywhere have presented 
would be such as we see iu the condition, from the earliest time, 
of the wandering hordes of Mongolians and Tartars, spread over 
the vast flats of Central Asia. In those regions scarcely any- 
thing has been u made " by man. But this most happy circum- 
stance, as it seems to be accounted — this total absence of any- 
thing reminding you of human skill and industry — his never 
been found to realize our poetic ideas of pastoral beauty and in- 
nocence. It has called forth enough of the squalid and of the 
ferocious, but little of the refined, the powerful, or the generous. 
If anything be certain, it would seem to be certain that man is 
constituted to realise his destiny from his association with rr"M» t 
more than from any contact with places. The great agency iu 
calling forth his capabilities, whether for good or for evil, is that 
of his fellows. The picturesque, accordingly, may be with the 
country, but the intellectual, speaking generally, must be with 
the town. Agriculture may possess its science, and the farmer, 
as well as the landowner, may not be devoid of intelligence ; but 
in such connexions, the science and intelligence, in common with 
the nourishment of the soil, must be derived, in the main, from 
the studies prosecuted in cities, and from the wealth realized iu 
the traffic of cities. If pasturage is followed by tillage, and if 
tillage is made to partake of the nature of a study and a science, 
these signs of improvement are peculiar to lands in which cities 
make their appearance, and they become progressive only as 
cities become opulent and powerful. — Dr. Famgharis Age of 
Cities. 

Fossil Trees. — During the progress of the works fom reclaim- 
ing the extensive waste called White Moss, between Middleton 
and Failsworth, a large number of trees, of enormous magnitude, 
have been discovered at a depth of about six feet ; some of the 
oaks have been nearly twelve feet in girth and forty feet in 
length. Several trees of the oak, fir, and yew tribe have been 
found to be thoroughly sound, even to the outermost part. 
Many of the oak-trees have proved more tough and flexible than 
this tree is under ordinary circumstances. A large quantity of 
the timber has most unquestionably been on fire. It «eems that 
during some remote age the fossil-trees at White Moss tave been 
burnt, for there are examples of the main shaft of these timbers 
having been consumed. Singular as it may appear, the trees 
found in this moss have invariably been met with lying iu a 
direction either south-east or due cast. 



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rfjhnndalas.— From ' Les Hiutlooa* of Solvyn.] 



THE CASTES AND TRIBES OF INDIA. 

Thf. institution of castes in India is one of the most 
curious chapters in the social history of mankind. The 
distinction of ranks and the separation of professions 
appear to have been established before the remotest 
era which Hindoo tradition reaches. According to 
their sacred books the Brahmen proceeded from the 
mouth of the Creator, which is the seat of wisdom ; 
the Cshatriya from his arm ; the Vaisya from his 
thigh ; and the Sudra from his foot. These castes 
comprise the four orders of a primitive state of society. 
The Brahmen were priests, the Cshatriyas soldiers, 
the Vaisyas husbandmen, and the Sudras servants and 
labourers. The Hindoo religion teaches its followers 
that it would be impious to confound these different 
orders. This distinction of caste is the framework of 
Hindoo society, and all its inconveniences and palpable 
injustice have been submitted to for ages from a sense 
of religious duty. The punishment for crime varies in 
severity with the caste to which the offender belongs, 
and while the law is merciless towards the Sudra, its 
force is mitigated when persons of the three higher 
castes are brought within its reach. In other matters 
the abus^ of natural rights is equally outrageous. For 
the interest of money on loan the Brahmen only pays 
two per cent., while three per cent, is exacted from 
the Cshatriya, four per cent, from the Vaisya, and five 
per cent, from the Sudra. Mill says : — '* As much as 
the Brahmen is an object of veneration, so much is 

no. 692. 



the Sudra an object of contempt and even of abhor- 
rence to the other classes of nis countrymen. The 
business of the Sudra is servile labour, and their de- 
gradation inhuman. Not only is the most abject and 
grovelling submission imposed upon them as a reli- 
gious duty, but they are driven from their iust and 
equal share in all the advantages of the social institu- 
tion." He then cites passages from the sacred books 
which show that the Sudra was created for the purpose 
of serving Brahmens; that he was not permitted to 
accumulate personal property ; and that a Brahmen 
must never read the Veda (the sacred scriptures of the 
Hindoos) in the presence of Sudras. In the new edi- 
tion of Mill, by Horace Hayman Wilson, Esq., the 
Professor of Sanscrit at Oxford, there is the following 
important note on this passage. Professor Wilson 
sa y S : — « The law does not justify the term ' abhor- 
rence.' Mr. Mill has collected the extreme texts, 
and has passed over all the favourable or qualifying 
passages. The condition of a Sudra in the Hindu 
system was infinitely preferable to that of the helot, 
the slave, or the serfs of the Greek, the Roman, and 
the feudal systems. He wa^; independent; his services 
were optional : they were not agricultural, but domes- 
tic and personal, and claimed adequate compensation. 
He had the power of accumulating wealth, or injunc- 
tions against his so doing would have been superfluous. 
He had the opportunity of rising to rank, for the 
Puranas record dynasties of Sudra kings, and even 
Manu notices their existence. He might study and 

VfTC 

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teach religious knowledge, and he might perform reli- 
gious acts. No doubt the Sudra was considered in 
some degree the property of the Brahmen, but he had 
rights, and privileges, and freedom, much beyond any 
other of the servile classes of antiquity." Mr. Mill 
himself, in a note elsewhere, observes that " so incon- 
sistent with the laws of human welfare are the institu- 
tions described in the ancient Hindu books, that they 
never could have been observed with any accuracy ; 
and when we consider the powerful causes which have 
operated so long to draw, or rather to force the Hin- 
doos from their inconvenient institutions and customs, 
the only source of wonder is, that the state of society 
which they now exhibit should hold so great a resem- 
blance to that which is depicted in their books." In 
certain cases of necessity tne three higher castes were 
permitted to have recourse for subsistence to the em- 
ployments of the class or classes below them ; but the 
Sudra, being the lowest, was confined to the species of 
labour assigned to him, and in seasons of public dis- 
tress the competition of the Vaisya, or third class, 
might come to aggravate his previous misery. But, 
as Professor Wilson points out, lie had a resort which 
the other castes were denied,— emigration ; and subse- 
quently the institution of mixed or impure castes 
threw open their avocations to him. Of these lower 
castes we must here give a brief notion. 

The origin of mixed or impure castes is to be as- 
cribed to the force of circumstances which laws could 
not prevent. Children were bom whose parents be- 
longed to dhTerent castes, and they in consequence 
belonged to no caste, and could not fall into any of the 
established employments. The infringement of the 
sacred laws to which they owed their birth rendered 
them inferior to the degraded Sudra. Charity or 
plunder could alone furnish them with the means of 
subsistence. When the number of these outcasts 
became so great as to render them dangerous to 
society, the Brahmen, by supernatural means, as the 
sacred books allege, created a sovereign endowed with 
the power of arresting the evils of this disordered 
state. He classified these outcasts, and assigned to 
each its particular occupation. Instead of plunderers, 
they became artisans, practised handicrafts, worked in 
metals, the subdivision of classes being equal to the 
number of additional occupations which the exigencies 
of society at the time demanded. This process, when- 
ever it took place, marks the commencement of a new 
social era. The division of the older society into four 
classes, comprehending priests, soldiers, husbandmen, 
and servants, was too simple for a more advanced 
period. Thirty-six branches of the impure class are 
mentioned in the sacred books, but the number, as 
well as the avocation of each, is variously stated by 
different writers. The lowest caste of all is the off- 
spring of a Sudra with a woman of the sacred caste. 
This tribe are called Chandalas. Carrying out the 
corpses of the dead, the execution of criminals, and 
other degrading and uncleanly employments, are per^ 
formed by this caste. They are prohibited from living 
in towns, their very presence being regarded as a 
pollution ; and on meeting a person of a higher caste 
they are compelled to turn aside lest he should con- 
sider himself contaminated by their approach ; and 
yet, while this and other castes are submitting to these 
indignities and degradations, they are alive to the 
" pride" rather than to the " shame " of caste. Professor 
Wilson says :— " The lowest native is no outcast; he 
has an acknowledged place in society; he is the 
member of a class ; ana he is invariably more reten- 
tive of the distinction than those above him."' 



THE WALHALLA. 

Thk 19th of October, 1842, was a memorable day for 
Bavaria and its king, for it was that on which was in- 
augurated a most noble structure, reared for a most 
noble purpose — to serve as a Pantheon consecrated to 
genius and intellect— to the heroes, the philosophers, 
and the poets of universal Germany. Had Lud- 
wig of Bavaria accomplished nothing else, that single 
edifice would have amply sufficed for his fame, and 
would have placed his name by the side of those of 
Pericles and Hadrian, of Leo and the Medici. But 
when we also call to mind the numerous splendid 
structures with which he has graced Munich,* render- 
ing it a sanctuary of art, and raising it from compara- 
tive obscurity to a very high rank among the capitals 
of Europe, and that within the short space of twenty 
years, we have cause to feel astonished ; nor is our 
astonishment altogether unmixed with mortification 
when we look at home, and perceive that although 
several handsome buildings have been erected of late 
years, hardly any of them are of first-rate importance ; 
while some which ought to have been treated as such, 
and which offered opportunities by far too valuable 
to be trifled with, nave turned out more or less 
unsatisfactory. No doubt the new houses of parlia- 
ment will make amends for preceding failures and 
mishaps in our national edifices, and amply console for 
them, if consolation it shall be to know that had they 
been conducted with the same judgment, ability, and 
zeal, many of our public buildings would have been 
very greatly superior to what they now are. However, 
instead of indulging in ungracious comments relative 
to architectural doings at home, let us proceed to 
notice what has been done abroad, namely, the Wal- 
halla. 

The site of the structure has already been shown in 
our 274th Number, where the view of it conveys 
more of an impression of its general effect in com- 
bination with the surrounding scenery than of the 
building, the latter being purposely thrown quite into 
the distance, so that no more than its general mass is 
discernible, for the exterior, having no claim to origi- 
nality, did not call for any minuteness of detail. 
The structure stands on the north bank of the Danube, 
so that its principal front, with ,the flights of steps 
and terraces leading up to it, faces the south. It is 
not, however, the mere building or temple taken 
by itself, but the entire combination produced by the 
vast constructions on which it is raised that is so ex- 
ceedingly striking and impressive, and is attended with 
peculiar grandeur ; and had the same building stood 
upon a flat level, and risen immediately from the 
ground, the effect would have been altogether different 
from and inferior to what it now is, when it sits 
" throned " aloft. Hardly do we know any other edifice, 
ancient or modern, 4hat has so magnificent an em* 
placement. Standing at the bottom of the first flight 
of steps, a person can see only the massive Cyclopean 
walls of the lower terrace ; nor does he obtain a view 
of the portico until he has reached the steps leading 
immediately up to it ; but when he does come in sight 
of it, it shows itself to all the greater advantage, 
bursting upon the eye in towering grandeur, after 
being lost to it during all the previous approach. 

Of the Walhalia itself, the exterior, as we have said, 
has no pretensions whatever, nor does it affect any, 
to originality of design ; it being in its architecture 
no more than a repetition of the Parthenon. But it; 
beautiful as it is, the exterior shows no invention 
on the part of the architect (Baron von Klenze% widely 
different is the case with regard to the interior, which 

* For an account of some of the buildings, see Munich, « Penny 
Cyclopaedia/ 



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is not only most splendid in decoration, but perfectly 
novel, and as yet quite unique as regards the form of 
the roof, which corresponds with that of the external 
one, so that its ends are of pediment shape, and there 
are intermediate pediments over the horizontal beams 
resting on the massive piers which divide the plan 
into three compartments, each of which has a skylight 
of plate-glass. Thus, while the temple-like character 
of the exterior is perfectly kept .up, and quite free from 
windows (except one at the north end, corresponding 
with the door at the other), the interior is lighted much 
more effectively than would have been the case had 
the side walls been pierced with such apertures.* Not 
the least recommendation of all attending the internal 
form of roof here introduced, is that, while it is alto- 
gether original, it is also perfectly consistent and cha- 
racteristic, since it so completely accords with the out- 
ward shape that the spectator is forcibly reminded that 
the exterior has a pediment at each end. There is no 
masking — no incongruity — no contradiction of cha- 
racter. You do not find a vaulted Roman hall, within 
the shell of a Grecian Doric temple. On the other 
hand, no space is lost for the roof, as would have been 
had there been a flat coffered ceiling ; consequently 
greater loftiness is obtained. In addition to these 
advantages, this roof promises the utmost durability, 
being constructed entirely of cast-iron, but has never- 
theless been rendered of most magnificent character 
within the ceiling or inner surface, being covered with 
plates of gilt bronze. All the other decorations are of 
corresponding richness: the pavement is composed 
entirely of marble, laid in a pattern whose colours are 
black, white, yellow, and red. The same material of 
different sorts and hues is employed for the walls, 
antae, and columns; nor is the gilding spared, or 
polychromic embellishment omitted. Corresponding 
with the richness of the materials employed is that of 
the design, and all the details. To attempt any descrip- 
tion of the latter would be idle, and in regard to the 
former it must suffice to state that the interior consists 
of a beautiful Ionic order in columns, and in antae at 
the angles of the piers between the compartments ; 
and above that is another or Caryatic order, of colossal 
female figures representing Valkyricc, or Genii of 
Walhalla. 

In no one respect has cost been spared. The solidity 
of the construction is quite extraordinary, for not only 
is the whole entirely of marble, both within and v, ith- 
out, but the walls are between eight and nine feet in 
thickness : it may therefore almost literally be said to 
be imperishable, calculated to endure for centuries of 
centuries, and to be a monument that will outlive all 
but the fame of the illustrious worthies whose busts 
are deposited within its sanctuary, — all but the fame of 
Ludwig of Bavaria, who needs no other monument to 
preserve his name. 

A few matter-of-fact particulars may be subjoined, 
to state the principal dimensions, as given in Bavarian 
measure, which is something less than our own, the 
Bavarian foot being to the English one as 0*9517 to 
1*000. Extreme length of the plan, including lower 
flight of steps, three hundred and seventy feet. 
Greatest breadth, or that of first terrace, two hundred 
and eighty-six feet. Height of first terrace, sixty- 
seven feet ; height from the ground to level of portico, 
one hundred and thirty-eight feet ; height to the apex 

* How fevr and comparatively small apertures are required for 
lighting an apartment, when they are made in the ceiling, instead I 
of the sides, is strikingly manifested in the large room of the ' 
General Commercial Hall, Throadneedle Street, which is now i 
beautifully lighted, although there would have been little more i 
than darkness visible, had the apertures which are now skylights • 
been made side- windows. I 



of pediment, one hundred and ninety-five feet. Temple, 
measured at base of columns, ninety-eight by two hun- 
dred and seventy-five feet: interior, one hundred and 
fifty by fifty-seven feet ; or total length, including the 
farther compartment at the north end, behind the 
screen of columns, one hundred and seventy-eight feet. 
Beneath the temple are massive substructures of 
vaulted chambers, entered from a door on the first 
terrace, and forming an ascending plane from that 
level. 



Pehn. — A Russian officer, M. Kovenko, has published in the 
* Annuairc des Mines de Russie,' a sketch of environs of Pekin, 
some extracts from which may interest our readers at the pre- 
sent moment. For a century past, Russia has maintained a 
convent and school at Pekin, where her interpreters receive their 
education in Chinese and Mantchou. Every ten years the mem- 
bers of these two establishments arc changed, and fresh monks 
and pupils are sent from St. Petersburg. During their stay at 
Pekiti, the Russians are free to see all things and visit all places 
without awakening the restless jealousy of the government. 
Pekin, according to M. Kovenko, is situated in a plain bounded 
to the north-west by a series of mountains which the Chinese 
divide into northern and western, according to their position with 
reference to the city. The northern mountains are a day's 
journey from Pekin ; that being no great distance, for the 
Chinese nevrr travel more than five and twenty of our miles in 
a day. This road in summer is very picturesque, and the 
country highly cultivated. The yellow millet is the Chinese 
peasant's plant, par ercelttnce. Its grain is the basis of his nutri- 
ment ; the stalk is food for his cattle, in the place of hay, which 
they have never thought of cutting. The straw of another species 
of millet, which attains a height of fifteen feet, is used to make 
the fences of gardens, and serves also for fuel. Near these 
northern mountains are some springs, having a temperature of 
forty-five degrees. The water is conducted by pipes into baths 
cut in the calcareous rock, and lined with sheers of lead. Early 
in the spring crowds assemble at this spot in search of health or 
for the mere pleasures of the promenade. The Imperial family 
lias a palace here, and there are several temples in the neigh- 
bourhood. In these temples it is that the weary traveller may 
seek repose; but the hospitality of the priests of Khe-san and of 
Da-o is by no means gratuitous. M. Kovenko asserts that a few 
hours' rest will cost about eighteen roubles (between 16s. and 
17*.), and upwards of twenty-five roubles are often paid for a 
day s. A multitude of fruit-trees grow in the valleys of these 
mountains, as well as willows, firs, juniper-trees, and cypresses, 
but these do not form forests of any considerable extent. The 
western mountains are remarkable for the coal which they 
enclose. So abundant is it, that a space of half a league cannot 
be traversed without meeting with rich strata. Yet, either 
because of this very abundance, or from the inveterate habit 
which the Chinese have of leaving all things unperfected, the 
art of mining is yet in its infancy amongst them. Machinery to 
lighten labour is there unknown. They have not even an idea 
of the pumps indispensable to draw off the water. If local cir- 
cumstances allow, they cut drainage-galleries; if not, they 
abandon the working when the inundation has gained too far 
upon them. Their system of ventilation consists in making 
openings at certain distances, over which they place wheels turned 
by men. But these wheels, though incessantly in motion, intro- 
duce very little air into the mines. The mattock, pick-axe, and 
hammer are the mining instruments. A furrow is traced with 
the pick-axe, the mattock is inserted and driven in witi. ihe 
hammer; and in this manner lumps of coal are detached, 
weighing from sixty to eighty pounds. Coal is at a moderate 
price in the capital. It is burnt in bronie vases, or its heat is 
distributed along the wall by means of pipes. These precautions 
against cold are very necessary at Pekin, and not the mere con- 
sequences of that strange habit which makes the Chinese heat 
all their drinks, even their wine. It freezes and snows often, 
and on the 31st of December, 1820, M. Timkowski found the 
thermometer there down to twelve degrees below xero. — 
Jthenetwn. 



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[HaMeM House] 



PROGRESSES OF QUEEN ELIZABETH. 

FROM HATFIELD PREVIOUS TO HKR CORONATION. 

Among the many alterations which increased facility 
of intercommunication has produced, is one that may 
not perhaps at first occur to us — this is the lessening 
of processional pomp and magnificence. When the 
removal of a nobleman's or a gentleman's family 
from one of his residences to another involved the 
transport also of much of his household stuff, and 
when neither roads nor vehicles admitted of rapid 
movement, such removals were unfrequent, the train 
naturally assumed the processional form, the rarity 
gave it the character of a show, and the occasion, the 
farewell or the welcoming of the local chief, gave it 
that of a holiday. What arose from necessity became 
consecrated by custom, and ultimately elevated by art 
into a gorgeous though sometimes rude display of pomp. 
The rank and dignity of the individual were considered 
to be involved in the number and magnificence of his 
attendant retinue, and his popularity or political in- 
fluence was indicated by the reception he met with in 
the places through which he passed. On the embassy 
of Becket to France in 1158, he was attended by two 
hundred knights, besides barons and nobles, a host of 
domestics, eight covered waggons, each guarded by 
armed men and a fierce dog, containing his kitchen 
and bedchamber furniture, that of his chapel, his plate, 
his wardrobe, in which he had twenty-four changes of 
apparel, his hawks, hounds, huntsmen, &c, with 
twelve sumpter horses, each ridden by a monkey ; and 
two hundred and fifty boys, who preceded the train on 
entering a town, singing national songs. In a later 
reign, the magnificence of Wolsey was not less re- 
markable, though the style was somewhat altered. At 
the present time, when the queen and court travel by 



railroad at the rate of forty miles an hour, or in post- 
chariots at fifteen — when .judges go their circuits by 
similar conveyances, nothing of the old custom re- 
mains, to us, except the heavy pomp of funereal pro- 
cessions, and the scarcely less heavy and un poetical 
exhibition offered to the citizens of London on Lord 
Mayor's day, or, occasionally, the less pompous but 
more impressive ceremony of the opening of parlia- 
ment by the sovereign in person. 

During a period when it was a work of great labour, 
requiring much time, and occasioning enormous ex- 
pense for subjects, particularly those from the remoter 
districts, to visit the court and look upon their sove- 
reign, it became a practice with all such nionarchs as 
thought they deserved or wished to acquire popularity, 
to make Progresses through the different parts of 
their territories. As the necessities for the long and 
cumbrous trains became less imperative, efforts were 
made to give these exhibitions more of an ornamental 
and intellectual character, though frequently of a 
formal and pedantic description, on the part alike of 
visitors and visited. It was during the reigns of 
Queen Elizabeth and King James I. that these enter- 
tainments reached their highest elevation; and from 
that of the last we may date their extinction : so vain 
are the efforts of art to prolong the existence of any 
state of manners not in unison with the more material 
conveniences and improvements of the time. As a 
record, however, of a state of manners which can never 
return, and affording also occasion of exhibiting speci- 
mens of the current literature, we purpose giving a 
few papers upon the Progresses of Queen Elizabeth, 
abundant materials for which are found in the three 
bulky quartos under that title, published by the late 
John Nichols, Esq., though we shall not confine our 
selves to this single authority. 



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The princess Elizabeth, as is generally known, passed 
the last part of the reign of Queen Mary in a sort of 
half confinement in the then royal palace of Hatfield, 
now the seat of the Marquis of Salisbury, to whose 
good taste the public are indebted for the preservation 
of the building in all its substantial features as it then 
existed. It was here that, on the 18th of November, 
1558 (Queen Mary having died early in the morning 
of the 17th), several lords of the Privy Council waited 
on her to announce her accession to the throne. She 
remained here till the 23rd, when she began her first 
Progress, which we may say only terminated with her 
Coronation. 

» i At her departure she was attended by more than a 
thousand persons. At Highgate she was met by the 
bishops, and at the foot of Highgate Hill by the lord 
mayor and corporation of London, by whom she was 
accompanied to the Charter-House, then the residence 
of Lord North. On the 28th she proceeded to the 
Tower. "All the streets she was to pass, even to the 
Tower, were new gravelled ; and so she rid through 
Barbican and Cripplegate, and along London Wall 
unto Bishopsgate, and thence up to Leadenhall, and 
so through Grasschurch Street and Fanchurcli Street, 
turning down Mark Lane into Tower Street, and so to 
the Tower." How pleasantly these "old familiar " 
names fall upon the ear, speaking of so little change, 
that they are yet the perfect direction of the road from 
the Charter-House to the Tower ! " Before her rode 
many gentlemen, knights, and nobles : after them came 
the trumpeters blowing ; then all the heralds in array ; 
my lord mayor, holding the queen's sceptre, riding 
with garter ; my lord of Pembroke bare the queen's 
sword. Then came her grace on horseback, apparelled 
in purple velvet, with a scarf about her neck, the ser- 
jeants-of-arms being about her person. Next after 
her rode Sir Robert Dudley (afterwards Earl of Leices- 
ter), master of her horse ; and so the guard with hal- 
berds. There was great shooting of guns ; the like 
was never heard before. In certain places stood chil- 
dren, who made speeches to her as she passed, and in 
other plates was singing and playing with regals." 
At the Tower she remained till Dec. 5, on which day 
she went by water to Somerset Place, " trumpets sound- 
ing, much melody accompanying, and universal ex- 
pressions of joy among the people." The ceremonies 
attendant on the funeral of Mary occupied a few days, 
and on the 23rd Elizabeth left Somerset House for her 
palace at Westminster, where she kept her Christmas. 
On Thursday, Jan. 12, 1558-9, she left Westminster, to 
go by water to the Tower, " the lord mayor and alder- 
men in their barge, and all the citizens, with their 
barges decked ana trimmed with targets and banners 
of their mysteries, accordingly attending on her grace. 
The batchelor's barge of the lord mayor's company, to 
wit, the Mercers', had their barge with a foist trimmed 
with three tops, and artillery aboard, gallantly appointed 
to wait upon them, shooting off lustily as they wont, 
with great and pleasant melody of instruments, which 
played in most sweet and heavenly manner. Her 
grace shot the bridge about two of the clock in the 
afternoon, at the still of the ebb, the lord mayor and 
the rest following her barge, attending the same till 
her Majesty took land at the Privy Stairs of the Tower 
Wharf." 

On the 14th commenced the grand display of her 
progress by land from the Tower to Westminster, pre- 
vious to her coronation. A detailed description of 
this * passage r exists in a curious tract, entitled ' The 
Passage of our most dread Sovereign Lady Queen 
Elizabeth through the City of London to Westminster 
the day before her Coronation/ anno 1558-9, published 
on the 23rd of the same month. In this it is stated 
that about two o'clock of the afternoon she " marched 



from the Tower to pass through the city of London to- 
wards Westminster, richly furnished and most honour- 
ably accompanied, as well with gentlemen, barons, and 
other the nobility of the realm, as also with a notable 
train of goodly and beautiful ladies, richly appointed ; 
and entering the city, was of the people received mar- 
vellous entirely, as appeared by trie assembly, prayers, 
wishes, welcomings, cries, tender words, and all other 
signs, which argue a wonderful earnest love of most 
obedient subjects towards their sovereign ; arid on the 
other side her grace, by holding up her hands and 
merry countenance to such as stood far off, and most 
tender and gentle language to those that stood near to 
her grace, did declare herself no less thankfully to 
receive her people's good will than they lovingly 
offered it unto her. To all that wished her grace well 
she gave hearty thanks, and to such as asked God to 
save her grace, she said again God save them all, and 
she thanked them with all her heart ; so that on either 
side there was nothing but gladness, nothing but 
prayer, nothing but comfort. The Queen's majesty 
rejoiced marvellously to see that so exceedingly showed 
towards her grace which all good princes have ever 
desired ; I mean, so earnest love of subjects, so evi- 
dently declared even to her grace's own person, being 
carried in the midst of them. The people again were 
wonderfully ravished with the loving answers and 
gestures of their princess, like to which they had before 
tried at her first coming to the Tower from Hatfield. 
This her grace's loving behaviour preconceived in the 
people's heads, upon these considerations, was then 
thoroughly confirmed, and indeed implanted a wonder- 
ful hope in them touching her worthy government in 
the rest of her reign. For in all her passage she did 
not only show her most gracious love toward the 
people in general, but also privately, if the baser per- 
sonages had offered her grace any flowers or such like 
as a signification of their good will, or moved to her 
any suit, she most gently, to the common rejoicing of 
all lookers on and private comfort of the party, staid 
her chariot and heard their requests. 

***** 

" Near unto Fanchurch was erected a scaffold richly 
furnished, whereon stood a noise of instruments,* and 
a child in costly apparel, which was appointed to wel- 
come the Queen's majesty in the whole city's behalf. 
Apainst which place, when her grace came, of her own 
will she commanded the chariot to be stopped, and 
that the noise might be appeased until the cnild had 
uttered his welcoming oration, which he spoke in Eng- 
lish metre, as here followeth : — 

" Oh! peerless sovereign Queen, behold what this thy town 
Hath thee presented with, at thy first entrance here ; 
Behold with now rich hope she leadeth thee to thy crown, 
Behold with what two gifts she comforteth thy cheer ! 

The first is blessings' tongues, which many a welcome say, 
Which pray thou inayst do well, which praise thee to the si y ; 

Which wish to thee long life, which bless this happy day. 
Which to thy kingdom heaps all that in tongues can lie. 

The second is true hearts, which love thee from their roots, j 
Whose suit is triumph now, and ruleth all the game : ' 

Whose faithfulness have won, and all untruth driven out ; 
Which skip for joy when as they hear thy happy naruo. 

Welcome therefore, O Queen, as much as heart can think, 
Welcome again, O Queen, as much as tongue can tell ; 

Welcome to joyous tongues, and hearts that will not shrink : 
God thee preserve, we pray, and wish thee ever well. 

u At which words of the last line the whole people 
gave a great shout, wishing with one assent, as the 
child had said. And the Queen's majesty thanked most 
heartily both the city for this her gentle receiving at 
the first, and also the people for confirming the same. 

* A MOM0 is a band- a noiee of music, a band of music. 



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Here was noted in the Queen's countenance, during 
the time the child spake, besides a perpetual attentive- 
ncss in her face, a marvellous change in look, as the 
child's words touched either her person or the people's 
tongues or hearts. So that she, with rejoicing visage, 
did evidently declare that the words took no less place 
in her mind, than they were most heartily pronounced 
hy the child, as from all the hearts of her most hearty 
citizens." 

As well as being spoken, copies of all the addresses 
were stuck up in convenient places, in Latin as well 
as English. In Gracechurcn Street, opposite the 
44 sign of the Eagle," a " gorgeous and sumptuous ark " 
was erected across the street, elevated in three stages 
above the three arches, which gave a passage to the 
procession and its spectators. In the lowest stage, 
upon one throne sat richly dressed representatives of 
Henry VII. and Elizabeth, the one enclosed in a red 
rose, the other in a white rose, and both royally 
crowned, with their hands joined. From the two roses 
sprang two branches uniting into one toward the 
second stage, and in this was placed a figure of Henry 
VIII., crowned, and seated by the side of Queen Anne 
Boleyn. From their seat ascended one branch to the 
highest stage, in which was a figure of Elizabeth her- 
self. All the figures were represented by children, 
and in front was a standing for one, whose task it was 
to declare in verse the " whole meaning of the said 
pageant," the blessings of unity and the cessation of 
civil wars, to her majesty, with which she declared her- 
self well pleased. 

" Ere the Queen's majesty came within hearing of 
this pageant, she sent certain [persons], as also at all 
the other pageants, to require the people to be silent, 
for her Majesty was disposed to hear all that should be 
said unto her." A curious specimen of the order- 
liness of the populace, if the desire was complied 
with. On advancing through CornhiU, the Conduit 
" was curiously trimmed against that time with rich 
banners adorned, and a noise of loud instruments 
on the top thereof." The second pageant, at the 
" nether end of Cornhill," had for its title " The 
Seat of Worthy Governance;" children here again 
representing the characters of the Queen with four 
allegorical attendants, " Pure Religion, Love of Sub- 
jects, Wisdom, and Justice; which did tread their 
contrary vices under their feet; that is, to wit. Pure 
Religion did tread upon Superstition and Ignorance ; 
Love of Subjects did tread upon Rebellion and Inso- 
lence ; Wisdom did tread upon Folly and Vain Glory ; 
J ustice did tread upon Adulation and Bribery." Each 
was distinctively marked, not only by " their names set 
in plain and perfect writing on tneir breasts," but by 
their apparel ; and one child was appointed to deliver 
the versified rather than poetical explanation. The 
Queen on all these occasions stayed her chariot, most 
attentively listened to the addresses, and thanked the 
city in appropriate terms for their pains. 

" The Great Conduit in Cheap was also ornamented ; 
and against Soper's Lane was another pageant of eight 
children representing the Eight Beatitudes, who also 
delivered an address; but the most marked one was 
that at the Little Conduit in Cheap, where the accept- 
ance by the Queen of the Bible, and the promise often- 
times to read it, must have been highly satisfactory to 
the spectators in the then state of religious feeling in 
the city. 

" Soon after that her grace passed the Cross she had 
espied the pageant erected at the Little Conduit in 
Cheap, and incontinent required to know what it might 
signify. And it was told her grace that there was 
placed Time. 'Time!' quoth she, 'and Time hath 
brought me hither.' And so forth the whole matter 
was opened to her grace, as hereafter shall be declared 



in the description of the pageant. But in the opening, 
when her grace understood that the Bible in English 
should be delivered unto her by Truth, which was 
therein represented by a child, she thanked the City 
for that gift, and said that she would oftentimes read 
over that book, commanding Sir John Parrat, one of 
the knights which held up her canopy, to go before 
and to receive the book. But learning that it should 
be delivered unto her grace down by a silken lace, 
she caused him to stay, and so passed forward till she 
came against the aldermen in the high end of Cheap 
tofore the Little Conduit, where the companies of the 
City ended which began at Fanchurch, and stood 
along the streets, one by another, enclosed with rails 
hanged with cloth, and themselves well apparelled 
with many rich furs, and their livery-hoods upon their 
shoulders, in comely and seemly manner, having be- 
fore them sundry persons well apparelled in silks and 
chains of gold, as whifHcrs and guarders of the said 
companies, besides a number of rich hangings, as well 
of tapestry, arras, cloths of gold, silver, velvet, damask, 
satin, and other silks plentifully hanged all the way as 
the Queen's highness passed from the Tower through 
the City. Out at the windows and the penthouses of 
every house did hang a number of rich and costly ban- 
ners and streamers till her grace came to the upper 
end of Cheap. And there, by appointment, the Right 
Worshipful Master Ranulph Cnolmely, Recorder of 
the City, presented to the Queen's majesty a purse of 
crimson satin, richly wrought with gold, wherein the 
City gave unto the Queen's majesty a thousand marks 
in gold, as Master Recorder did declare briefly unto 
the Queen's majesty. . . . The Queen's majesty, 
with both her hands, took the purse, and answered him 

again marvellous pithily. 

* * ^ * * * * 

" And in the same pageant was advanced two hills, or 
mountains, of convenient height. The one of them, 
being on the north side of the same pageant, was made 
cragged, barren, and stony ; in the which was erected 
one tree artificially made, all withered and dead, with 
branches accordingly. And under the same tree, at 
the foot thereof, sate one in homely and rude apparel, 
crookedly, and in a mourning maimer, having over 
his head, in a table, written in Latin and English, his 
name, which was ' Ruinosa Respublica' — ' A decayed 
Commonweal.' And upon the same withered tree 
were fixed certain tables, wherein were written proper 
sentences expressing the causes of the decay of * Com- 
monweal.' The other hill, on the south side, was made 
fair, fresh, green, and beautiful, — the ground thereof 
full of flowers and beauty ; and on the same was 
erected also one tree very fresh and fair, and under the 
which stood upright one fresh personage, well ap- 
parelled and appointed, whose name also was written 
both in English and Latin, which was 'Respublica 
bene instituta ' — ' A flourishing Commonweal. And 
upon the same trees also were fixed certain tables, 
containing sentences which expressed the causes of a 
flourishing commonweal. In the middle, between the 
said hills, was made artificially one hollow place or 
cave, with door and lock enclosed ; out of which, & 
little before the Queen's highness coming thither, is- 
sued one personage whose name was Time, apparelled 
like an old man," with a scythe in his hand, having 
wings artificially made, leading a personage of lesser 
stature than himself, which was finely and well ap- 
parelled, all clad in white silk ; and directly over her 
nead was set her name and title, in Latin and English, 
'Teraporis filia' — 'The daughter of Time.' Which 
two so appointed went forward toward the south side 
of the pageant. And on her breast was written her 
proper name, which was * Veritas' — 'Truth,' who held 
a book in her hand, upon the which was written ' Ver- 



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bum Veritatis'— the ' Word of Truth.' And out of the 
south side of the pageant was cast a standing for a 
child, which should interpret the said pageant,'* which 
was accordingly done in English and Latin. 

The Queen, on receiving the book, kissed it, and 
laid it to her breast. At St. Paul's the scholars wel- 
comed her with a Latin oration in prose, and some 
Latin verses, to which she listened attentively, and 
irraciously received the written copies. At Ludgate 
the gate' was decorated and a "noise of instruments" 
placed. At the conduit in Fleet Street was erected 
the fifth and last pageant, in which a "seemly and 
meet personage" represented "Deborah the judge 
and restorer ot Israel, with six other personages, two 
denoting the nobility, two the clergy, and two the com- 
monalty ; while a child again addressed her in verses 
allusive to the pageant. At St. Dunstan's the " chil- 
dren of the hospital*" were drawn up, and one ad- 
dressed her in a Latin oration. u From thence her 
grace came to Temple Bar, which was dressed finely 
with the two images of Gotmagot the Albion and 
Corineus the Briton, two giants big in stature, fur- 
nished accordingly ; which held in their hands, even 
above the gate, a tablet, wherein was written, in Latin 
verses, the effect of all the pageants, which the City 
before had erected." In a smaller tablet was the same 
in English as follows . — 

** Behold here in one view thou mayst see all that plain, 
O Princess, to this thy people the only stay : 
What each where thou hast seen in this wide town, again 
This one arch whatsoever the rest contained doth say. 

The first arch as true heir unto thy father dear, 

Did set thee in the throne where thy grandfather sat ; 
The second did confirm thy seat as Princess here, 

Virtues now bearing sway, and Vices beat down flat ; 
The third, if that thou would'st go on as thou began, 

Declared thee to be blessed on every side ; 
The fourth did open Truth, and also taught thee when 

The Comraouweal stood well, and wheu it did thence slide j 

The fifth as Deborah declared thee to be sent 

From Heaven, a long comfort to us thy subjects all : 
Therefore go on, O Queen, on whom our hope is bent, 
And take with thee this wish of thy town as finall. 
Live long, and as long reign, adorning thy countrie 
With Virtues, and maintain thy people's hope of thee ; 
For thus, thus Heaven is won; thus must you pierce the sky : 
This is by Virtue wrougnt, all other must needs die." 

And so with a farewell address from a child on the 
south side "her grace departed forth through Temple 
Bar towards Westminster," with shouting and crying 
of the people, and the firing of the Tower ordnance. 



INSURANCE OF SHIPPING.—" LLOYDS LIST." 
Many a newspaper reader has probably marvelled as 
to the nature and meaning of" Lloyd's Coffee-house." 
He may have seen, that in all lists or catalogues of 
shipping, entering or leaving foreign ports and har- 
bours, Lloyd's agents or correspondents appear to 
furnish the information ; and not unfrequently a letter 
appears from the Admiralty, giving information respect- 
ing lighthouses, beacons, and other maud's pertaining 
to marine affairs, addressed to the Secretary at Lloyd's. 
Who is this Lloyd ? it may be asked, and what kind 
of a Coffee-house does he keep? And what has his 
CofFee-house to do with shipping affaire ? And why 
does Lloyd employ so many agents and correspondents, 
and what advantage does he reap by so doing? The 
apparent incongruity of the matter may be cleared 
up at once by saying, that there is a Society or Com- 
mittee of mercantile men, meeting occasionally for a 
defined object, who originally held their meetings in a 
* Christ Church. 



subscription-room attached to a Coffee-house, at or 
near the Royal Exchange. " Lloyd's Coffee-house " 
hence became generally known in connection with the 
objects of that Committee ; and in accordance with the 
brevity of commercial language, the simple word 
"Lloyd's" came to imply the Committee itself, and 
the general object for which it was formed ; and the 
name has adhered to it ever since, though neither 
Lloyd nor the Coffee-house has had anything to do in 
the matter for some years. 

The subscribers to Lloyd's arc principally a number 
of persons known by the appellation of " Underwriters," 
who insure shipping on the same principle as a Fire- 
office insures buildings. But it is a remarkable fea- 
ture, that these underwriters effect insurances in- 
dividually, instead of combining their funds into a 
joint-stock for the purpose. The rooms which they 
engage (once at the Coffee-house over the Royal Ex- 
change, from whence the system is named, and now, 
during the rebuilding of the Exchange, at the South 
Sea-house) serve as a kind of bazaar or general office, 
convenient for transacting business between the in- 
surers and the insured. 

To understand the origin of this system, we must 
look back to the last century. The present " Lloyd's 
Committee" arose out of the amalgamation of two 
societies, one of which had existed from 1760 to 1834 ; 
and the other from 1798 to 1834 ; the former a society 
of underwriters, and the latter a society of shipowners. 
The shipowners' society took cognizance of all matters 
relating to the general interests of shipowners ; while 
the underwriters' society was established for the pur- 
pose of preparing and publishing annually a Register 
of British merchant shipping, in which the age, bur- 
den, limit, quality, and condition of vessels were so 
accurately entered, as in a great measure to guide the 
merchant, the shipowner, and the underwriter in their 
proceedings. About eight or nine years ago, circum- 
stances occurred which led to a change in the system, 
by bringing merchants, shipowners, and underwriters 
all into one society, for the general benefit of all. 
Thus arose the present " Lloyd's " association, of which 
we will first describe the general constitution, and then 
the mode of working. 

Lloyd's Register Society is composed of subscribers, 
of whom twenty-four are chosen to form a managing 
committee, viz. eight merchants, eight shipowners, and 
eight underwriters. Two of each class go out of office 
annually, and are replaced by others ; and the election 
is so managed as to give shipowners and underwriters 
equal power in the Society. This Committee, as in 
analogous cases, has power to appoint the various ser- 
vants of the Society, and to manage the general affairs. 
The object of the society is based on the principle of 
assigning to merchant-ships, wheresoever built, or 
belonging to any one who may choose to co-operate 
with the society, a character that shall indicate as 
nearly as possible their real and intrinsic quality. The 
advantages are threefold. First, a merchant who 
freights a vessel with goods to a foreign country can 
form some opinion of the soundness of the vessel, if it oc- 
cupies a place in Lloyd's Register ; secondly, a person 
who is about to buy a ship, or a share in a ship, has 
something besides his own penetration to depend upon, 
when the ship is classed in the Register ; and thirdly, 
an underwriter who insures a ship before it sets out on 
a voyage, can form a judgment as to the premium 
which he must charge, from the place which the ship 
occupies on the Register. The preparation of this 
Register thus becomes a matter of paramount impor- 
tance, and engages the closest attention of the Com- 
mittee. At one time the classification was effected on 
a very imperfect principle. Instead of classing the 
ships according to the actual state and condition ascer- 



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[January 14, 



tained by a careful surveyor, the character of a ship was 
stamped wholly by her age and the place where she was 
built, without any regard to the manner in which she 
was constructed, the wear or damage she might have 
sustained, or the repairs she might from time to time 
have received. This had a lamentable influence on 
the mode of constructing shipping; for, to use the 
words of a Parliamentary Committee on the subject — 
'* All new vessels, however slightly constructed, were 
entitled to be registered in the first class for a given 
number of years, varying from six to twelve, after 
which the strongest ships were placed on a level with 
the weakest, being excluded from the first class when 
the prescribed period of years had pxpired." Now, 
however, the classification is effected according to the 
actual merits of the ship. Surveyors are appointed by 
the committee at all the principal ports in the king- 
dom, to examine in the most scrupulous manner every 
ship which is to be placed on the Register. It is op- 
tional with a ship-owner whether he will or will not 
have his ship entered in this Register ; but if he does, 
the surveyor examines it, and charges a certain fee for 
the registration. The surveyor at any particular port 
transmits periodically to London an account ot all 
ships lost, broken up, or otherwise destroyed, belong- 
ing to his district ; and also of all vessels building, 
the Btate of their progress, the changes which may 
have occurred in the ownership, and indeed every fact 
calculated to elucidate the actual state of the shipping at 
any given period. All the surveyors have been either 
practical nautical men or practical shipwrights, who 
nave given up all other occupations to attend to the 
interests of Lloyd's Society. 

It was stated in 1830 that out of twelve thousand 
British merchant-vessels above fifty tons burthen, 
seven thousand were entered in Lloyd's Register. All 
these entries were made in a book which is reprinted 
once a year. The fees for examining and classify- 
ing a ship vary from half a guinea to three guineas. 
When a surveyor has examined a new ship, he trans- 
mits to London full particulars of the examination, 
and mentions the class in which he thinks the ship 
ought to be placed in the Register. The Committee, 
if they think the reasons are good, assent to that recom- 
mendation ; but if their inference from facts be different 
from his, they determine the class in which to place the 
ship. If a shipowner is so fortunate as to have his ship 
classed •' A. 1, he seldom fails to append that character 
to the name of the ship in all his advertisements, as an 
honourable testimony to the character of the vessel. 

Ships are seldom or never insured unless they are 
registered in Lloyds list, for the underwriters and 
insurance societies have then no adequate means of 
knowing the character of the vessel. Nor can a ship- 
owner sell a vessel so readily if it be not registered in 
tne same list. Merchants, shipowners, and under- 
writers all feel confidence in this register, and hence its 
great importance. 

There is a committee whose object is to superintend 
the preparation of the register above alluded to ; and 
also another for the management of the underwriters' 
proceedings generally. Thus, agents are appointed in 
all the principal ports of the world, who transmit regu- 
larly accounts of the departures from and arrivals at 
their ports, as well as of losses and other casualties ; 
and, in general, all such information as may be sup- 
posed of importance in guiding the judgments of the 
underwriters. There is an open subscription-room at 
" Lloyd's," in which all these items of information are 
entered in books, open to the perusal of the subscribers. 
It is from the register of shipping that the underwriter 
forms an opinion of the character of the vessels which 
he may insure ; and from the daily list of occurrences 
at sea he learns the fate of these several vessels. 



Some of the merchants and shipowners manage their 
own insurance transactions, that is, deal immediately 
with the underwriters ; but there are others who employ 
insurance-brokers, paying a small per-centage fortneir 
services. The sum paid for insuring a given vessel at 
a given time depends on a large number of circum- 
stances, such as tne age of the vessel, its size and con- 
dition, the character of its captain or master for skill 
and steadiness, the nature of the cargo, the length of 
the voyage on which the vessel is destined, and the 
average amount of danger on that route. Nothing 
but the greatest experience can determine the proba- 
bility of loss under these combined circumstances ; 
but the effect of competition is to cause all these points 
to be thoroughly investigated. 

Marine insurance is effected on three different sys- 
tems ; by individuals, by clubs, and by companies. 
The individual insurers are the underwriters ot whom 
we have spoken, each of whom speculates on his own 
account. The clubs are associations of shipowners, 
who agree to divide among themselves the losses sus- 
tained in respect of any one of their ships. They enter 
their ships according to the estimatea value, satis- 
factorily to all the members of the club ; and in the 
event of any loss, the amount is collected individually 
from all the members, each paying a prescribed quota. 
With respect to companies, none sucn were permitted 
by law to effect marine insurances until 1824, except 
two chartered companies ; but since that period two 
others have been added. Mr. M'Culloch stated, in the 
second edition of his Dictionary, that about one-fifth 
of the marine insurance transactions is in the hands of 
the London companies, and four-fifths in the hands of 
underwriters ana of country insurers. 

In the policy of a marine insurance the general 
nature of tne proposed voyage is set forth ; and the in- 
surance itself becomes void if the ship is lost or 
damaged under certain circumstances. Thus, acts of our 
own government, breaches of the revenue laws, breaches 
of the law of nations, deviations of route, protraction of 
the voyage, — all are, under certain restrictions, deemed 
to exonerate the underwriter or company from bearing 
the losses of a shipowner. The object in view is essen- 
tially to secure the shipowner from loss arising out of 
the " perils of the sea." 



77* Arein, — Tlie Jamou is sometimes in the winter and spring 
a dangerous passage, as well on account of the depth of the snow, 
as in being subject to avalanches, and to the peculiar tourmente, 
as the mountaineers expressively term the snowy winds or windy 
snows, called the arei>i y a word which signifies in the patois of 
the country a sandy snow, the particles thereof being dry and 
brittle. These artins are formed by one layer of snow falling 
upon another, already frozen and hard, and a strong wind forcing 
its way between the two, slicing off, if I may be allowed so 
homely an expression, the latest fallen and uppermost, and driv- 
ing it down the inclined and icy plain on which it has sought it* 
short repose, with a fury that sweeps before it trees, chalets, herds, 
human beings, all in one bewildering, blinding hurricane, con- 
demning the unfortunate passenger to certain death. In 1707 
one of these areins swept away, between the Jaiuuu and the vil- 
lage of AlliSres in Fribourg, on which we were now looking 
down in all the serenity of a summer's day, a number of large 
firs and several houses, which it carried to the verge of the pre- 
cipices washed by the Hongrin in the Gruyeres, sawing the 
cabaret of Allieres literally in two, and carrying away the upper 
story, to the amazement of the inmates, who were thus ejected 
from the attics to the ground-floor without a moment's notioe to 
quit. When any accident fatal to life occurs on the Jaman, it 
is forbidden to remove the body until the arrival of a magistrate, 
excepting the mother be present, in which case her sanction is 
deemed sufficient. The presence of the father is not considered 
equal authority. There is something very touching in this 
deference to maternal feeling. — Mrs. Strutt's Domestic Residence 
in Switzerland. 



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[Queenstown.— From a Dravring by Mrs. Simcoe, taken during the Revolutionary War.] 



THE NIAGARA DISTRICT, WESTERN 
CANADA.— No. I 

Queenstown is situated on the Niagara River, or 
more properly Strait, about seven miles above the 
Falls, and six from the shores of Lake Ontario. There is 
a good and pleasant road parallel to the river from Fort 
Erie on the lake of the same name, through Queens- 
town, to Newark on Lake Ontario. The length of the 
Niagara Strait is thirty-five miles : by this outlet the 
waters of Lake Erie flow into Ontario, passing in 
their course over the tremendous cataract. A suc- 
cession of severe actions between the Americans and 
the British took place in 1812, 1813, and 1814, on 
the banks of the Niagara ; and one of the most des- 
perate occurred within two miles of the Fails. The 
circumstances attending this contest were peculiarly 
calculated to show the hateful effects of war, as they 
aroused all those bad passions which seem tenfold 
more bitter in a border-warfare, when the ties of neigh- 
bourhood and kindred are disregarded, and their obli- 
gations violated. The militia on both sides being 
called out, neighbours were righting against each other 
— a husband against the father of his wife, and against 
her brothers. Every town on the frontier was de- 
stroyed, either by one or other of the belligerent par- 
ties. In October, 1812, the American and British 
forces encountered each other atQueenstown, which was 
the scene of a sanguiaary contest. The spot where 
the English general, Sir Isaac Brock, fell on this occa- 
sion 13 marked by a monument erected to his memory. 
It is one hundred and twenty-six feet high, and stands 
two hundred and seventy feet above the level of the 
Niagara stream, which runs just below it, so that it 
commands a noble view, thus described by Miss Mar- 
tineau, in her * Retrospect of Western Travel :' — " To 
the left a prodigious sweep of forest terminates in 
blue Canadian hills. On trie right is the American 
shore. There stands the village of Lewiston (oppo- 
site Queenstown), with its winding descent to the 
ferry. At our feet lay Queenstown, its sordidness 
being lost in distance, and its long street presenting 
the appearance of an English village. The green 

no 693. 



river rushes between its lofty wooded banks, which 
suddenly widen at Queenstown, causing the waters 
to spread and relax their speed, while making their 
way with three or four bends to the lake. We saw 
the white church of Niagara, rising above the woods 
some miles off; and beyond, the vast lake, its waters 
groy on the horizon. There was life in this mag- 
nificent scene. The ferry-boat was buffeted by the 
waves ; groups were in waiting on either side the 
ferry; and teams were in the fields." The portress 
was an active little Irishwoman, delighted to meet 
any one from the " old country ;" and yet some short 
time before some travellers (English) had thrown down 
a telescope belonging to her from the top of the monu- 
ment, and when she asked for payment received only 
abuse ! * 

About half-way between the Falls and Queenstown 
there is a remarkable whirlpool, of which little notice 
is taken in the note-books of travellers, whose atten- 
tion is too much occupied by the grandeur of the Falls. 
The whirlpool is most probably caused by extensive 
cavernous hollows in the rocky bed of the river in 
which the waters are partially engulfed. Millions of 
tons of water are precipitated over the Falls every hour, 
and yet here the Niagara is pent up within a narrow 
channel not exceeding one hundred yards in width. 
Mr. Buckingham mentions, in his reeent work on the 
United States of America, that " so completely is the 
current carried round in the circular whirlings that 
water assumes in any vortex having a large outlet at 
its base, that trees, beams, and branches of wood are 
carried round and round for hours in succession in its 
centre, sometimes descending out of sight, and re-ap- 
pearing again near the same place broken into frag- 
ments. It ia compared by those who have seen both 
to the celebrated Maelstrom of Norway, but is on a 
smaller scale." In Cotton's ' Tour of the Lakes' there 
is a harrowing account of a boat having by accident 
come within range of the whirlpool, and an unfor- 
tunate person being hurried round the vortex many 
times before the final catastrophe, while his friends on 
shore could render him no assistance. In the ' Penny 
Magazine,' No. 147, an account will be found of a 



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similar accident which ended more fortunately. The 
Strait is so narrow at this point, that a stone has been 
thrown across from the American to the Canadian side, 
and a suspension-bridge has been projected as a means 
of communication between them. The rocky cliff on 
either side is aboujt two hundred and fifty feet hich, 
and the width less than that over which the bridges at 
Menai and Clifton are suspended. As it would over- 
hang the whirlpool, it is thought that the cost would 
be reimbursed by the payments of persons visiting the 
spot. There is a railway from Lcwiston to Buffalo. 

Immediately after passing the elevated plateau of 
Queenstown Heights, tne land shelves abruptly towards 
the shores of Lake Ontario, distant five or six miles, 
in a manner which at once arrests the attention of the 
geologist. The table-land, three hundred feet high, is 
broken by a precipice parallel to the lake. There is 
little doubt that this was once the boundary of its 
southern shore. Colonel Whittlesey, a scientific geo- 
logist and surveyor, who was officially appointed to 
examine this region, gives the following grounds for 
this supposition, which also account for the existence 
of the Falls. The table-land, it is to be observed, on 
both sides of the Niagara Strait, namely, at Queens- 
town and Lewiston, is level with Lake Erie. The line 
where it is abruptly broken is traceable for more than 
a hundred miles parallel with Lake Ontario, east of the 
Niagara, and Colonel Whittlesey thinks still farther, 
to the head of the St. Lawrence, at the Thousand Isles, 
or even to the Heights of Abraham at Quebec, and the 
Falls of Montmorency. " At this latter spot, and so 
on up the Thousand Isles above, some mighty rupture 
of the rocky beds beneath seems to have occurred by 
some convulsion of nature, and thus furnished a pass- 
age or drain for the Upper Lakes into the Atlantic. 
The time when this convulsion occurred must have 
been simultaneous with the production of the Falls of 
Niagara, which until then were a part of the shores 
of the two lakes, which here silently commingled their 
waters, until the sudden rupture and draining below 
threw the momentum of the mighty flood from the 
now table-land, and then lake-bed, at Queenstown, down 
the high precipice or naked shore, and thus excavated 
for itself the deep channel of Niagara river from 
this point to the diminished basin of Ontario. From 
Queenstown, the Falls, in course of time, by gradually, 
as they now hourly do, breaking oft' the shelving cal- 
careous rock, worked their way naturally up to their 
present position, seven miles above, and will ultimately 
penetrate into Lake Erie ; when another draining 
will take place, of Erie, Huron, and Michigan/ both 
which latter are also doubtless diminished basins, up 
to the Sault St. Mary, or Low Falls, which divides 
these Lower Lakes from the great inland sea of Lake 
Superior. When that event occurs, another Niagara 
will in the same way be formed at this passage into 
Lake Superior. And so the mighty work will proceed, 
until our lakes, which none of them have great rivers 
of their own to supply the present constant draining 
of the St. Lawrence, and by evaporation, will shrink to 
minor pools, leaving, ultimately, their rich beds bare, 
to become the seats of civilization and of a vast popu- 
lation." Such are the speculations which a view of the 
neighbourhood of Queenstown suggests to the geologist 
and philosopher. 

At the embouchure of the Niagara into Lake On- 
tario its breadth is about a quarter of a mile. The 
entrance is defended by two forts, one on the Canadian 
and the olher on the American side. When Mrs. 
Jameson was in Canada, just before the last troubles, 
the British forces in the Canadian fort consisted of 
three privates and a corporal, with rusty firelocks and 
damaged guns. She mistook the fort for a dilapi- 
dated brewery. This lady gives a very charming pic- 



ture of the beauties of Ontario : " This beautiful Lake 
Ontario!'' she exclaims, — "my lake — for I begin to 
be in love with it, and look on it as mine ! It changed 
its hues every moment, the shades of purple and green 
fleeting over it, now dark, now lustrous, now pale — 
like a dolphin dying ; or, to use a more exact though 
less poetical comparison, dappled, and varying like the 
back of a mackerel, with every now and then a streak 
of silver light dividing the shades of green : magnifi- 
cent, tumultuous clouds came rolling round the ho- 
rizon ; and the little graceful schooners, falling into 
every beautiful attitude, and catching every variety of 
light and shade, came curtseying into the bay : and 
flights of wild geese, and great black loons were skim- 
ming, diving, sporting over the bosom of the lake ; 
and beautiful little unknown birds, in gorgeous plu- 
mage of crimson and black, were fluttering about the 
garden : all life and light and beauty Were abroad in 
the resurrection of Nature ! " This was written when 
the long Canadian winter was just over. 



THE FELLING AND TRANSPORT OF THE 
PINE AND FIR. 

Thk pine and the fir arc among the most useful forest- 
trees which the world produces. There is scarcely a 
dwelling or a ship to be found in any part of Europe 
or America into the building of which one of these 
varieties of wood does not enter; and the juices or 
resinous products are particularly valuable in the arts 
of life. Many nations, too, procure edible substances 
from various parts of these trees. All the varieties of 
the pine and the fir genera belong to one botanical 
order ; but without entering into a description of the 
trees themselves, or their relation to botany or agricul- 
ture, we may collect many instructive details respect- 
ing the geographical distribution of the pine and fir 
forests — the mode of felling and bringing to market 
— the economical uses of the timber, branches, bark, 
&c. — and the mode of obtaining the resinous products. 

The forests of Norway and Sweden are among the 
most celebrated of the pine and fir kind, the Scotch 
pine and the spruce fir being the principal varieties. 
Dr. E. D. Clarke says, '* If the reader will cast his 
eyes on the map of Sweden, and imagine tlje Gulf of 
Bothnia to be surrounded by one continuous unbroken 
forest, as ancient as the world, consisting principally 
of pine-trees, with a few mingling specimens of the 
birch and juniper, he will have a general and tolerably 
correct notion of the real appearance of the country." 
A common mode of transporting these trees from the 
forests where they are cut down, to the banks of streams 
or rivers, is to place them on wheel-axles, one vehicle 
to each tree, and then to draw them by horses guided 
by women. In every case a path or road is taken 
which will lead by the shortest route to a river — such 
a river, in Sweden, is the Gotha, which enables the 
rafts of timber to be floated down to the port of Got- 
tenburgh. There are in Norway two rivers thus em- 
ployed : one, the Glomm, which terminates at Chris- 
tiania ; and the other, the Drammen, which flows into 
the sea twenty miles westward of Christian ia. 

Nearly all the pine and fir timber grown in Russia, 
Prussia, and Poland is floated down the rivers which 
flow into the Baltic, generally adjacent to the ports of 
Memel, Dantzig, Riga, and St. Petersburg. The name 
of the port is often given to the kind of timber which 
is floated down to it: thus we hear of * Riga timber' 
and * Memel timber.' It is said that the timber 
shipped at Memel comes principally from the estates 
of Prince Radzivil, in Polish Prussia; it is more 
abundant than that shipped at any other of the Baltic 
ports; but its quality is inferior to that of Dantzig; 
while this latter, again, yields the palm of superiority 



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to the timber from Riga. This Jatter-named kind is 
largely used for the masts of English and French ves- 
sels ; and in reference to it Mr. M'Culloch observes, 
" The mast-trade is very extensive. The burghers of 
Riga send persons, who are called * mast-brokers,' into 
the provinces to mark the trees, which are purchased 
standing. They grow mostly in the districts which 
border on the Dnieper, and are sent up that river to a 
landing-place, whence they are transported thirty versts 
(about twenty-three miles) to the Dwina, where, being 
formed into rafts of from fifty to one hundred pieces 
each, they descend the stream to Riga. The tree which 
produces the longest masts is the Scotch pine. The 
pieces, which are from eighteen inches to twenty-five 
inches in diameter, are called ' masts ;' and those under 
these dimensions * spars,* or, in England, * Norway 
masts/ because Norway exports no trees more than 
eighteen inches in diameter. Great skill is required 
in distinguishing those masts which are sound from 
those which are in the least degree internally decayed. 
They are usually from seventy feet to eighty feet in 
length." 

Mr. Howison has given a very interesting account of 
the train of operations whereby Russian pine and fir 
are conveyed to St. Petersburg for shipment. As all 
the large timber near the capital has long since been 
cut down, the supply is obtained from a distance in 
the interior. A Russian proprietor wishing to dispose 
of the timber on his property, having completed a bar- 
gain with the St. Petersburg merchant, sets his pea- 
santry to work in picking out, cutting down, and 
dragging the trees from the forests to the lakes and 
rivers. This work generally takes place during the 
winter months, in order that everything may be ready 
for floating the timber to St. Petersburg as soon as 
the ice on the rivers and lakes breaks up. As the 
ground is generally covered several feet deep with 
snow, and the trees judged to be sufficiently large and 
sound for the foreign market lie widely apart, the 
workmen and others employed in picking tnem out 
are compelled to wear snow shoes, to prevent them 
from sinking in the snow. When the trees are found, 
they are cut down with hatchets, and the head and 
branches lopped off. The trunk is then stripped of its 
bark, and a circular notch is cut round the narrow end 
of it, to facilitate the fixing of the rope by which the 
horses are to drag the trunk along ; and a hole is made 
at the other end for a handspike, to steer the log over 
the many obstacles that lie in its way. Many ot these 
tree3 are seventy feet in length, and of proportionate 
diameter; and tney are drawn by from five to nine 
horses each, yoked in a straight line one- before an- 
other, since the intricate narrow paths in the woods 
will not permit of their going in any other way. One 
man mounts upon the leading horse, and another upon 
the middle one, while others support and guide with 
handspikes the large and distant end of the tree, to 
raise it over the elevations of snow, and make it glide 
smoothly along. The conveyance of these large trees, 
the long line of horses, and the number of peasants 
accompanying them through the forests, present a very 
picturesque appearance. In many cases the trees are 
brought nearly a thousand miles before they are deli- 
vered to the merchant; and they generally remain 
under his care another winter, to be shaped and fitted 
for exportation in such a manner as to take up as little 
room as possible on shipboard ; so that the Russian 
timber does not reach the foreign consumer till two 
years after it has been cut down. When the trees are 
delivered to the merchant, they are carefully examined 
to ascertain their soundness, and for this purpose a 
hatchet is struck several times against them, the emit- 
ted sound affording the means of estimating the sound- 
ness of the tree. Those which are defective, and which 



are called * braake,' are about one-tenth of the whole 
These trees are conveyed by horses, in the manner 
described above, only so far as is necessary to bring 
them to the margin of some of the lakes or streams 
which have water communication with St. Peters- 
burg, floating being then the mode of transit adopted. 

In the parts of Germany bordering on the Rhine, 
the timber is conveyed by the quickest route to tbnt 
river, and then floated down in immense rafts, which 
have often been described by tourists. The author ot 
'An Autumn near the Rhine' says, "A little below An- 
dernach the village of Namedy appears on the left 
bank under a wooded mountain. The Rhine hen* 
forms a little bay, where the pilots are accustomed to 
unite together the small rafts of timber floated down 
the tributary rivers into the Rhine, and to construct 
enormous floats, which are navigated to Dordrecht 
(Dort), and there sold. These machines have the ap- 
pearance of floating villages, each composed of twelve 
or fifteen little* wooden huts, on a large platform of oak 
and deal timber: they are frequently eight or nine 
hundred feet long, and sixty or seventy in breadth." 
This raft is composed of several layers of trees, placed 
one on another, and tied together, the raft drawing not 
less than six or seven feet of water. Several smaller 
rafts are /attached to the large one, besides a string of 
boats loaded with anchors and cables, and used for the 
purposes of sounding the river and going on shore. 
The rowers and workmen sometimes amount to seven 
or eight hundred, superintended by pilots ; and over 
the whole is a proprietor or manager, whose habitation 
is superior to the others. The " domestic economy" of 
the raft is very complete. Poultry, pigs, and other 
animals are to be found on board, and several butchers 
are attached to the suite. A well-supplied boiler is at 
work night and day in the kitchen. The dinner-hour 
is announced by a basket stuck on a pole, at which 
signal the pilot gives the word of command, and the 
workmen run from all quarters to receive their ra- 
tions. The consumption of provisions during the 
voyage from Andernach to Dort is enormous, some- 
times amounting to forty or fifty thousand pounds of 
bread, eighteen or twenty thousand pounds of fresh 
meat, with salt meat, butter, vegetables, and a host of 
et ceteras. A very large capital is necessary to under- 
take the formation of one ot these rafts. 

When we proceed southerly towards Switzerland, 
we find' pine and fir forests elevated so much above 
the level of the rivers, as to give occasion for no small 
exercise of ingenuity in devising the means of trans- 
port. A remarkable instance of the plan, now fre- 
quently adopted, was afforded by M. Rupp about thirty 
years ago, in reference to the means of transporting 
the wood from the forests on Mount Pilate to the Lake 
of Lucerne. The mechanism has been so often de- 
scribed, that a slight notice will suffice here. In the 
year 1810 the price of Baltic timber was so high, that 
a hope was entertained of bringing into profitable sale 
the timber on this Swiss mountain, hitherto untouched 
on account of the difficulty of conveyance. M. Rupp 
conceived the idea of making an inclined plane whith 
should extend the whole distance from the top of the 
mountain to the Lake of Lucerne, about eight miles. 
This inclined plane consisted of a trough, formed of 
twenty-five thousand pine-trees, six feet broad, and 
from three to six feet deep. To preserve a regular 
slope, it had to be conducted over the summits of 
rocks, along their sides, through tunnels, and over 
deep gorges, where it was sustained by scaffolding. 
The trough was kept constantly moist, and the trees 
descended along it into the lake with extraordinary 
rapidity. The larger pine-trunks, about a hundred 
feet in length, descended through the whole distance 
of eight miles in six minutes : a rapidity which pro- 

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[Januar\ 21, 



duced an effect otherwise almost inconceivable to the 
view of a bystander. When the trunks arrived at the 
lake, they were floated down the Rh6ne to the sea. 
As the war, which occasioned the high price of Baltic 
timber, led to the construction of the Slide of Alpnach 
(as the contrivance was called), so did the return of 
peace restore the timber-trade to its old channel ; and 
the Swiss project is understood not to have succeeded 
as a commercial speculation. 

In many of the Alpine districts between Austria 
and Italy the difficulty of transporting timber to the 
level of the rivers has led to the construction of slides 
or troughs somewhat similar to that of Alpnach. In 
all such cases the slides are formed of several fir-trees 
placed side by side, and smoothed by being stripped of 
their bark : they are always made in such a dirfction 
as to maintain a pretty uniform slope. The slides are 
chiefly made use of in winter, at wnich time they are 
rendered more slippery by being wetted with water, 
which freezes immediately. A wood-cut and descrip- 
tion of one of these Tyrolean districts have been given 
in No. 532. 

In Scotland, one of the principal pine-forests is said 



to be that of Rothiemurchus, which spreads over the 
glens and valleys of the Grampian Hills. The timber 
from this forest is generally floated down the river 
Spey ; and when, from a long season of drought, or 
any other cause, there is any difficulty in getting it 
down to the river, the workmen collect the trees into 
a suitable dell, and having built up a temporary dam. 
they wait the coming of a flood, which in a country of 
such varied Burface is no rare occurrence. As soon as 
the temporary dam is full of water, they break down 
the boundary, and the liberated waters, bursting from 
their confinement, carry the trees with them" impe- 
tuously down the Spey. 

Every one who has heard of Canada and the United 
States must be aware that the pine and fir forests cover 
a vast area of the new continent. Among the remark- 
able features of Canada, the * lumbering-parties ' are 
not the least picturesque. These are clubs or bands of 
men who form a kind of « joint-stock tree-cutting com- 
pany/ and undergo no few hardships in the course of 
their labours. The proceedings ot these lumbering- 
parties have been fully described by an eye-witness, in 
our No. 352. 



[Etruscan Vase.. 



ETRUSCAN ANTIQUITIES AT THE BRITISH 
MUSEUM. 

There perhaps is not any department of the British 
Museum devoted to antiquities which, to those who 
know comparatively little of ancient history, excites so 
much interest as the Egyptian room. The most un- 
learned will survey attentively the intelligible memo- 
rials of manners and customs which, though so ancient, 
exhibit feelings and passions essential to man's nature 
in every age. The ornaments worn three thousand 



years ago gratified the Same feelings then as they dc> 
now. The insight obtained into the domestic life of 
so remote a period shows only different modes of sub- 
serving the same ends amongst a people who made the 
greatest advance in early civilization. The Museum 
catalogue affords full explanation of the various objects 
presented to the eyes of the visitor. In passing through 
a room nearly empty, we enter another apartment, the 
objects in which are not yet perfectly arranged, nor 
are they described in the catalogue. These are the 
Etruscan antiquities. They do not at once claim the 



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visitor's attention so strongly as the memorials of 
ancient Egypt, but still we may read in them passages 
in the history of a people, and learn something of their 
domestic life, public ceremonies, and religious institu- 
tions. We know little besides what these vases tell us 
of a people who existed in Italy prior to the Romans, 
and who gave a deep and lasting impression to the 
religion and institutions of Rome. The language of 
the Etrurians is forgotten, the site of many of their 
cities is a matter of dispute ; and had it not been for 
the great veneration in which they held their dead, and 
the arrangements which they made for their sepulture, 
we should have been unable to follow them to the re- 
mote times in which they existed as a flourishing 
people, evincing a taste, refinement, and magnificence 
in the arts and in their public ceremonials, which we 
can scarcely believe of a nation whose history is other- 
wise so obscure. They excelled in various arts, but 
they are universally known for their works in baked clay. 
Several centuries before the building of Rome, 
which occurred about two thousand six hundred years 
ago, the Etrurians were settled in Italy on both sides 
of the Apennines. Etruria Proper is now the present 
Tuscany, with the addition of that part of the Papal 
States which lies on the banks of the Tiber. The 
Etruscan towns formed independent communities, 
governed by an aristocracy, the ' people,' who were 
probably a conquered race, being in a state of serfdom. 
The Etruscan settlements in Italy were established 
probably about three thousand or three thousand two 
hundred yea^s since ; and their existence as a nation 
was destroyed by the Romans after it had lasted eight 
or ten centuries. Their lands were given to the mili- 
tary colonies of Rome. The Etruscan language gra- 
dually became obliterated, except among the priests ; 
and soon after the establishment of Christianity it be- 
came finally extinct. Niebuhr and all the best autho- 
rities agree that it is lost. Dr. Arnold, in his * History 
of Rome,' in reference to the probability of a know- 
ledge of it being restored, remarks that " the study and 
comparison of the several Indo-Germanic languages is 
making such progress, that if any fortunate discovery 
comes to aid it, we may hope to see the mystery of the 
Etruscan inscriptions at length unravelled." In the 
meantime we must be content with the pictorial lan- 
guage of the vases found in the tombs. These vases 
belong to three different periods of art, each exhibiting 
its peculiar style. The most ancient are those which 
resemble the Egyptian style ; and it has been asserted 
that they were imported from Egypt, but they were 
most probably of native manufacture from Egyptian 
copies: harpies, sphynxes, griffins, &c. are figured 
upon them. They are party-coloured of red and black 
upon a pale yellow ground. The next in order are 
those with black figures on a red ground, in stiff and 
ungraceful outline, while the form of the vase itself is 
often very elegant. The most modern have red figures. 
The form of the vase is still more elegant, and often 
exquisitely beautiful, and the figures are graceful and 
spirited. They represent stories of gods and heroes, 
as well as incidents of domestic life. It has been said 
that the vases of this style were imported from Greece ; 
but, on the other hand, the more probable history of the 
manufacture is that it was first brought from Egypt 
into Etruria, and was there carried to very high per- 
fection, as shown in the black figured vases ; and that 
it was afterwards further improved by Greek artists 
who settled in Etruria. 

Mrs. Hamilton Gray, who is an enlightened enthu- 
siast on the subject of Etruscan antiquities — of which 
she has formed a valuable collection at Bolsover Castle, 
containing several unique articles — remarks, in her 
1 Sepulchres of Etruria,' that " you will rarely see a 
black figure easy, natural, or graceful, however ex- 



quisite may be the beauty of its workmanship ; and 
you will seldom be able to trace in a red figure that 
peculiar stiff and rigid quaintness which is charac- 
teristic of the most ancient Etruscan art. Those 
black figures which have a sketchy and flowing ease 
are on vases of a very inferior material and execution, 
and belong to the period of the decay of art, like the 
roughly-drawn red figures which are so common." 
The most modern Etruscan vases are about two thou- 
sand years old. None have been found at Herculancum 
or Pompeii, though they were made in the neighbour- 
hood in the highest perfection ; and vases of terra- 
cotta, not painted, exist in great number in these lava- 
covered cities. It is inferred from this circumstance 
that the peculiarities of the Etruscan art had been lost 
before these places were covered by the eruption of 
Vesuvius in the first century. 

Tarquinia, Veii, Vulci, Tuscania, and the other 
cities from whose necropoli the vases and other Etrus- 
can remains have been collected, are in the neighbour- 
hood of Civita Vecchia, and within a day's journey of 
Rome. The dealers in antiquities at Rome hire land 
where the burying-places were situated, and there 
carry on their excavations. The cemetery of an Etrus- 
can city was as large as the city itself. Above two 
thousand tombs have been opened in that of Tarquinia, 
and it is computed to extend over sixteen square miles, 
and to contain not less than two million tombs ; and 
yet it is surrounded on all sides by cemeteries of other 
cities of scarcely inferior extent. A common un painted 
tomb consists of two vaulted chambers, small and low. 
On one side stands the sarcophagus, or bier, with its 
wreath, or arms, and around upon the walls are bronzes 
and terra-cotta. There are usually a number of vases 
on the ground near the sarcophagus. The subjects of 
the painted tombs are chariot-races, festivals, battles, 
in a spirited and lively-coloured style, •* expressed," 
says Mrs. Hamilton Gray, " with a grouping and a 
spirit which is Greek, and a mannerism which is Egyp- 
tian." The lids of the coffins have, in some cases, 
figures of men and women in alto relievo, and in the 
coffins have been found a wreath of ivy, or of bay, in 
pure gold, or a helmet and spear ; and in others some- 
thing of gold or bronze, scarabaei, gems, jewellery ; b\;t 
rarely coins. 



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[January 21, 



THE TRINITY HOUSE. 

In our previous numbers we have piven an account of 
the classification of the mercantile navy of Great 
Britain, and of the nature of the establishment known 
as " Lloyd's ;" we now complete the subject by a de- 
scription of the nature and duties of the corporation 
known as the Trinity House, to whose care are com- 
mitted the lighthouses of Great Britain, the pilotage 
of the Thames, and other duties. The full title of the 
corporation is * The Master, Wardens, and Assistants of 
the Guild, Fraternity, or Brotherhood of the Most 
Glorious and Undivided Trinity, and of Saint Clement, 
in the parish of Deptford Strond in the county of 
Kent' — an institution to whose members is intrusted the 
management of some of the most important interests 
of the seamen and shipping of England. Its duties 
and powers will best appear by a review of its history, 
and of the royal charters, grants, and several statutes 
under which the same exist. The earlier records, to- 
gether with the house of the corporation, were destroyed 
by fire in 1714, so that the origin of the institution can 
only now be inferred from usage and the occasional 
mention of its purposes in documents of a later period. 
It seems however certain that the increase of shipping 
and the use of vessels of great burden having aug- 
mented the importance of a correct knowledge of the 
intricacies of the navigation of the channels leading 
into the river Thames and of the river itself, an asso- 
ciation of seamen was formed for the purpose of for- 
warding and assisting the attainment of that object. It 
was material also that this knowledge should be solely 
possessed by British subjects ; and probably this was 
present to the mind of Frenry VII., who, when earl of 
Richmond, with a very inferior fleet, had crossed the 
English Channel from Harfleur, and effected a landing 
at Milford Haven, without molestation. That king 
bestowed great care upon the improvement of the 
navy, and it is presumed that with him originated the 
scheme, afterwards carried into effect by his son Henry 
VIII., of forming efficient Navy and Admiralty boards, 
which then first became a separate branch of public 
service. During the reign of Henry VIII. the arse- 
nals at Woolwich and Deptford were founded; and 
we learn from Stowe that the Deptford-yard establish- 
ment was subsequently placed under the direction of 
the Trinity House, who likewise surveyed the navy 
provisions and stores. The earliest official document 
now extant is a charter of incorporation made by 
Henry VIII. in the 6th year of his reign. The first 
master acting under it was Sir Thomas Spert, com- 
mander of the famous ship called Henry Gracc-a-Dieu, 
built by Henry VII. An exemplification of this 
charter was granted by George II. in the third year of 
his reign. By this charter the " shipmen and mariners 
are to establish a certain guild or perpetual fraternity ;" 
and the brethren are empowered from time to time to 
elect one master, four wardens, and eight assistants, 
to govern and oversee the guild, and have the cus- 
tody of the lands and possessions thereof, and have 
authority to admit natural-born subjects into the fra- 
ternity, and to communicate and conclude amongst 
themselves and with others upon the government of 
the guild and all articles concerning the science or art 
of mariners, and make laws, &c. for the increase and 
relief of the shipping, and punish those offending 
against such laws; collect penalties, arrest or distrain 
the persons or ships of offenders, according to the laws 
and customs of England or of the Court of Admi- 
ralty. The- charter also grants to the corporation all 
liberties, franchises, and privileges which their pre- 
decessors the shipmen or mariners of England ever 
enjoyed. 
It is supposed that prior to the incorporation by 



Henry VIII. there was a station belonging to the as- 
sociation of seamen near the entrance of the river, for 
the purpose of supplying pilots to vessels inwards, as 
well as one at Deptford or London for the supply to 
vessels outwards. 

On arriving at the reign of Queen Elizabeth it is 
impossible not to be struck by the wisdom and fore- 
sight of the measures taken by that queen through the 
agency of the Trinity House for the purpose of for- 
warding the interests of the sea-service, measures the 
more to be regarded when brought into contrast with 
those of some of her successors. In the first year of 
her reign she recognised all the rights and immunities 
of the corporation (reciting in a charter confirming the 
same certain grants from King Edward VI. and Queen 
Mary) ; and in the 8th year of her reign an act was 
passed, enabling the corporation to preserve ancient 
sea-marks, to erect beacons, marks, and si^ns for the 
sea, and to grant licences to mariners during the in- 



tervals of their engagements to ply for hire as water 
men on the river Thames. This act describes the 



the 



members of the corporation as "a company of the 
chiefest and most expert masters and governors of 
ships incorporate within themselves, charged with the 
conduction of the queen's majesty's navy royal, and 
bound to foresee the good increase and maintenance of 
ships and of all kind of men traded and brought up by 
watercraft most meet for her majesty's marine ser- 
vice ;" and after reciting the destruction of steeples, 
woods, and other marks on the coasts, whereby divers 
ships had been lost, to the great detriment and hurt of 
the common weal and the perishing of no small num- 
ber of people, prohibits the destruction of any existing 
marks after notice, under a penalty of 100/., a very heavy 
fine in those days. An important question arose in the 
reign of James I., whether tne words of the act of the 8th 
Elizabeth included lighthouses, which it would seem had 
not been introduced in England at the time it was 
passed : it appears to have been held by the two chief 
justices, 1 James I., that they did (4 Inst., 149). Never- 
theless, in 1616, Sir William Erskinc and Sir John 
Meldrum having applied for a patent to erect lights at 
Winterton, the corporation of Trinity House petitioned 
against it, on the ground that they alone were entitled 
to make such erections, and the privy council decided 
in their favour. The king, however, was prevailed on 
to refer the matter to Sir Francis Bacon, then attorney- 
general, who reported his most able opinion in these 
striking words:— "That lighthouses are marks and 
signs within the meaning of the statute and charter. 
That there is an authority mixed with a trust settled in 
that corporation for the erection of such lighthouses 
and other marks and signs from time to time as the ac- 
cidents and moveable nature of the sands and channels 
doth require, grounded upon the skill and experience 
which they have in marine service ; and this authority 
and trust cannot be transferred from them by law, but 
as they only are answerable for the defaults, so they 
only are trusted with the performance, it being a 
matter of an high and precious nature, in respect of 
the salvation of ships and lives, and a kind of starlight 
in that element." This was read in council, and on the 
26th March, 1617, an order was made reciting it, and 
" that their lordships found further cause to be con- 
firmed in their first opinion that the masters of the 
Trinity House of Deptford Strond ought solely to have 
the erecting and disposing of all such sea-marks and 
signs, and that no other person ought to intermeddle 
therein ; which their lordships did this day declare in 
council as the opinion of the board, with a saving still 
to his majesty's further pleasure. But withal straitly 
admonished the said masters of the Trinity House upon 
their duties, that as they were only trusted, and all 
others excluded, they should be careful to discharge 



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23 



that trust which the state had reposed in them, and 
that in all places needful they should cause to he 
speedily and timely set up such lights and other sea- 
marks and signs as may serve for the sate direction of 
sea-faring men upon any of his majesty's coasts what- 
soever, that the lives, ships, and goods of his majesty's 
subjects, friends, and allies may not be in danger of 
perishing through their negligence or want of care." 
King James probably disapproved of this decision, 
because it went to preclude mm from exercising that 
lucrative trade in the sale of monopolies and patents 
which formed so principal a grievance of his reign. 
Accordingly very shortly afterwards, Sir Francis Bacon 
having been made lord Keeper, the same point of law 
was referred to Sir Henry Yelverton, then attorney- 
general, and such of the king's council as he might 
think proper to call to his assistance. 

The result was the following report, more satisfac- 
tory perhaps to his majesty, but the cause, in aftertime, 
of much evil, loss, and expense to the nation, because 
the management of several lighthouses was in conse- 
quence granted to individuals. After stating the cir- 
cumstances, the Report, which' is dated 4th June, 1617, 
goes on : — 
*' We herein certify our opinion to your lordships : — 
" 1. That lighthouses aresigpsand marks within the 
meaning of the statute aforesaid. 

44 2. That there is an authority given by the statute 
to the Trinity House, to erect such lighthouses if they 
think fit, and a trust reposed in them to do it if they 
will. 

" 3. That they of the Trinity House cannot transfer 
this authority to any other. 

"But we are of opinion that the authority given to 
the Trinity House by the statute 8th of Elizabeth, 
taketh not away the power and right which was and 
still is in the Crown by the common law to erect such 
houses. For that statute is made wholly in the affir- 
mative, that they of the Trinity House shall and may 
erect such lights and marks at sea, but excludes not 
his majesty. And we arc informed that since the statute, 
both in the time of his majesty and of the late queen, 
there have been some lighthouses erected by authority 
from the crown. 

" And therefore, howsoever the ordinary authority 
and trust for the performance df this service is com- 
mitted to the said corporation alone, as persons of skill 
and trust to that purpose, yet if they be not vigilant to 
perform it in all places necessary, his majesty is not re- 
strained to provide them according to his regal power 
and justice, for the safety of his subjects' lives, goods, 
and shipping in all places needful." 

In the 36th year of her reign Queen Elizabeth, but 
partly it would seem at the praiseworthy instance and 
by the aid of Lord Howard of Effingham, her high 
admiral, made a grant to the corporation of the lastage 
and ballastage of all ships in the river Thames, and of 
the beaconage and buoyage upon the coasts of the. 
realm, which had previously anbrded a considerable 
source of revenue to the lord high admiral. The grant 
recites that he had surrendered into the queen's hands 
the lastage and ballastage of all ships coining into or 
being in the Thames, and also the right to erect and 
place beacons, buoys, marks, and signs for the sea, 
on it or on the shores, coasts, uplands, or forelands 
near it, and besought her to grant all powers respect- 
ing these matters to them. And it then proceeds to 
grant the same and all fees relating to them in the ful- 
lest manner to the corporation for ever. 

James 1. soon after nis accession granted a charter 
of confirmation dated 1604. What else he did has 
already been stated, and by him and his successors 
various patents for and leases of lighthouses to indivi- 
duals were at different times granted. Charles II. 



also granted to the Trinity House a charter of confirm- 
ation, but in the 17th year of his reign he granted the 
right of lastage and ballastage to one Colonel Carlos. 
This was the more extraordinary, because by the 
recital in his charter of the grant of Elizabeth he re- 
cognized the right to be in the corporation : it was 
however conferred upon Colonel Carlos on the assur- 
ance that it would not injure them, and the colonel 
was to pay 1000 marks a year for it into the Exchequer*. 
The corporation resisted this grant successfully, and 
soon after Colonel Carlos surrendered it to the king, 
who re-granted it to the corporation for 31 years (Eli- 
zabeth's grant having been " for ever "), with the ad- 
dition of all the waste lands bordering on the Thames 
from Staines Bridge to the Medway. This portion of 
the grant was however disputed by tne City of London, 
and eventually the king re-granted it as it had been 
granted by Elizabeth, except that the fees and profits 
were expressly appropriated to the use of poor sea- 
men, their wives, &c., and the 1000 marks were 
reserved to Colonel Carlos. The grant confirms the 
exemption of the brethren and their servants, &c. 
from all service, civil and military, unless by order of 
Privy Council. James II., who was much interested 
in naval matters, granted a fresh charter, the one now 
in force, in the first year of his reign. It recites the 
former grant and charter, and declares the body to be 
a corporation, and that for the future it shall consist 4>f 
one master, and one deputy master, four wardens and 
four deputy wardens, eight assistants, and eight deputy 
assistants, eighteen elder brethren, and a clerk. The 
master nominated by the charter was Pepys, then secre- 
tary to the admiralty. It determines the mode of election 
of those officers, their continuance in office, and the 
mode of removing them from it, if necessary ; and 
declares that all seamen and mariners belonging to the 
guild shall be younger brethren. It directs the masters 
and wardens to examine such boys of Christ's Hospital 
as shall be willing to become seamen, and to apprentice 
them to commanders of ships. It also enables them 
to appoint and license all pilots into and out of the 
Thames, and prohibits under penalties all other per- 
sons from exercising that office : it also authorises the 
corporation to settle rates of pilotage, &c, to hold 
courts, &c, to punish seamen deserting, &e., and make 
laws as to their subject-matters not inconsistent with 
the laws of the kingdom. It also contains many pro- 
visions directed to the object of keeping the navigation 
of the channels secret from foreigners, and renders 
the officers of the corporation liable to attend when 
required at the king's bidding. Since that time se- 
veral acts of parliament have been passed for the 
purpose of authorising the Trinity House to re- 
gulate matters connected with the pilotage, &c. of 
vessels. 

The various provisions in matters of pilotage under 
the management of the corporation were repealed by 
the 6 Geo. IV., c. 125, entitled * An Act for the amend- 
ment of the law respecting pilots and pilotage, and 
also for the better preservation of floating lights, buoys, 
and beacons,' which recites the extent of the jurisdic- 
tion of the Trinity House in regard to pilots to be 
upon the river Thames, through the North Channel, 
to or by Orfordness, and round the Long Sand Head, 
or through the Queen's Channel, the South Channel, 
or other channels into the Downs, and from and by 
Orfordness and up the North Channel, and up the 
rivers Thames and Medway, and the several creeks 
and channels belonging or running into the same ; and 
contains a variety of minute regulations respecting the 
examination, licensing, and employment of pilots, the 
rates of pilotage, provisions for decayed pilots, the 
protection of buoys, &c. At the present time however, 
besides those under the jurisdiction of the Trinity 



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[January 21, 



House and tbe lord warden of the Cinque Ports, many 
independent pilotage establishments exist in various 
parts of the kingdom ; but the expediency of subjecting 
all these to the sole, uniform management of the 
Trinity House has been felt lor some time past, and 
will probably soon become the subject 01 parlia- 
mentary enactment. The inconvenience and disad- 
vantage resulting from the exercise of similar autho- 
rities vested in the hands of different parties had been 
felt with regard to the lighthouses on the coast, 
several of which were vested in private hands by the 
crown ; while some had been in times past leased out 
by the corporation itself, the lights in both instances 
being found to be conducted probably rather with a 
view to private interest than public utility. By an act 
therefore of the 6 & 7 Wm. I v., c. 70, passed '• in order 
to the attainment of uniformity of system in the ma- 
nagement of lighthouses, and the reduction and equali- 
zation of the tolls payable in respect thereof/' provision 
was made for vesting all the lighthouses and lights on 
the coasts of England in the corporation of the Trinity 
House, and placing those of Scotland and Ireland 
under their supervision. Under this act all the in- 
terest of the crown in the lighthouses possessed by his 
Majesty was vested in the corporation m consideration 
of 300,000/. allowed to the Commissioners of Crown 
Land Revenue for the same, and the corporation were 
empowered to buy up the interests of the various 
lessees of the crown and of the corporation, as well as 
to purchase the other lighthouses from the proprietors 
of them, subject in case of dispute to the assessment of 
a jury. Under this act purchases have been made by 
the corporation of the whole of the lighthouses not 
before possessed by that body, the amount expended 
for the purpose being little short of a million of 
money. 

The annual revenue of the corporation is very con- 
siderable, and is derived from tolls paid in respect 
of shipping receiving bench t from the lights, beacons, 
and buoys, and from the ballast supplied. The ballast 
is raised from such parts of the bed of the river as it 
is expedient to deepen, by machinery attached to 
vessels, and worked partly by the power of steam, and 
partly by manual labour. The remainder of the 
revenue proceeds from lands, stock, &c, held by the 
corporation, partly by purchase, partly from legacies, 
&c, and donations of individuals, 'ihe whole is em- 
ployed upon the necessary expenses of the corporation 
in constructing and maintaining their lighthouses and 
lights, beacons and buoys, and the buildings and vessels 
belonging to the corporation ; in paying the necessary 
officers of their several establishments, and in pro- 
viding relief for decayed seamen and ballastmen, their 
widows, &c. Many almshouses have also at various 
times been erected, which are maintained from the 
j amc funds. The present house of the corporation is 
on Tower Hill ; the Trinity House was formerly in 
Water Lane, where it was twice destroyed by fire. Of 
?he Elder Brethren, eleven consist ol noblemen and 
heads of the government departments, admirals, &c, 
who are styled honorary brethren ; twenty are maritime 
commanders, selected irom the several branches of 
the merchant service, who have retired from employ- 
ment, and recently one has been chosen from the 
service of her Majesty's navy. The younger brethren 
(who ar« unlimited in number), are or have been com- 
manders of merchant-ships. Neither the honorary 
members nor the Younger Brethren derive any pecu- 
niary advantage from their connection with the cor- 
poration. The present master is the Duke of Wel- 
lington. Mr. Pitt filled that office for seventeen years, 
and King William IV. was master at the time of his 
accession to tbe throne. Formerly, according to Stowe, 
soa-causes were tried by the Brethren, and their 



opinions were certified to the common-law courts and 
courts of Admiralty, such cases being referred to them 
for that purpose. This is not, however, the practice at 
present; but two of the Elder Brethren now sit as 
assistants to the judge in the court of Admiralty in 
almost all cases where any question upon navigation 
is likely to arise. The various duties of the corpora- 
tion are parcelled out among the wardens and different 
committees appointed for the purpose of discharging the 
same. One of the most important of these is the Com- 
mittee of Examiners, before whom all masters of vessels 
in the navy, as well as pilots, undergo an examination. 
The deputy roaster and Elder Brethren are from time 
to time employed on voyages of inspection of their light- 
houses and lights, beacons and buoys, not unfrequently 
in most trying weather and seasons ; and they are also 
often engaged in making surveys, &c. on the coast, 
and reports on such matters of maritime character as 
are referred to them by the government. The sums 
paid to the deputy master and Elder Brethren for their 
services are — to tne former 500/. per annum, and 100/. 
further as the chairman of all committees, and to each 
of the Elder Brethren 300/. per annum. 



Power of Lramivg. — A3 for fortune niul advancement, the 
beneficence of learning is not so confined to give fortune only to 
states and commonwealths, as it doth not likewise give fortune 
to particular persons. For it was well noted long ago, that 
Homer hath given more men their livings than either Scylla, or 
Csesar, or Augustus ever did, notwithstanding their great lar- 
gesses and donatives, and distributions of lauds to so many 
legions : and no doubt it is hard to say whether arms or learn- 
ing have advanced greater numbers. And in case of sovereignty 
we see, that if arms or desceut have carried away the kingdom, 
yet learning hath carried the priesthood, which ever hath been 
in some competition with empire. — Lord Bacon, 

Food be»t adapted fur Mutt. — The food best adapted for man is 
that which contains a due mixture of azotised matter (fibrine, 
albumen, kc.\ and iion-a/.ottst d matter (*»ugar, starch, &cr). Dr. 
Liebig says : — " A nation «4* hunters, on a limited space, is ut- 
terly incapable of increasing its numbers beyond a certain point, 
whirh is soon attained. The whole of the carbon necessary for 
respiration must be obtained from the Mesh of animals, of which 
only a limited nubmer can find fowl on the space supposed. 
But 15 lbs. of flesh contain not more carbon than 4 lbs. of starch ; 
and while the savage, with one animal and an equal weight of 
starch, could support life and health for a certain number ol 
days, he would be compelled, if confined to flesh alone, in order 
to procure the carbou necessary for respiration and for the animal 
beat, to consume live such animals in the same period. It i* 
easy to s«e, from these considerations, how close the connection 
is between agriculture and the multiplication of the human 
species. The cultivation of our crops has ultimately no other 
object than the production of a maximum of those substances 
which are adapted for assimilation and respiration in tbe small- 
est possible space. Grain and other nutritious vegetables yield 
us, not only in the form of starch, &c, tbe carbon which pro- 
tects our organs from the action of oxygen, and serves to pro- 
duce also the heat essential to life, but also, in the form of ve- 
getable fibrine, albumen, and caseiue, our blood, from which all 
the other parts of the body are developed. Man, when confined 
to animal food, respires, like the camivora, at the expense of the 
matters produced oy the metamorphosis of organised tissues ; 
and, just as the lion, tiger, and hyena, in the cages of a mena- 
gerie, are compelled to accelerate the waste of the organised tis- 
sues by incessant motion, in order to furnish tbe matters neces- 
sary for respiration and for animal heat, so the savage, for tbe 
very same object, is forced to make the most laborious exertions, 
and to go through a vast amount of muscular exercise. He is 
compelled to consume force, merely in order to supply matter 
fur respiration. Cultivation is the economy of force. ... 
The unprofitable exertion of power, the waste of force in agri- 
culture, in other branches of industry, in science, or in social 
economy, is characteristic of the savage state, ur of the absence 
of cultivation." — Qucuierly Review. 



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ESSAYS ON THE LIVES OF REMARKABLE 
PAINTERS.— No. I. 
Giovanni Cimabuh, 

Horn at Florence. 1840, died about 1302. 

To Cimabue for three centuries had been awarded the 
lofty title of "Father of Modern Painting;" aud to 
him, on the authority of Vasari, had been ascribed the 
merit,, or rather the miracle, of having reyived the art 
of painting when utterly lost, dead, and buried ; of 
having by his single genius brought light out of dark- 
ness—form and beauty out of chaos. The error or 
gross exaggeration of Vasari in making these claims 
for his countryman has been pointed out by later 
authors: some have even denied to Cimabue any 
share whatever in the regeneration of art ; and at all 
events it seems clear that his claims have been much 
over-stated; that so far from painting being a lost 
art in the thirteenth century, and the race of artists 
annihilated, as Vasari would lead us to believe, several 
cotemporary painters were living and working in 
the cities and churches of Italy previous to 1240 ; and 
it is possible to trace back an uninterrupted series of 
pictorial remains and names of painters even to the 
fourth century. But in depriving Cimabue of his false 
glories, enough remains to interest and fix attention on 
the period at which he lived : his name has stood too 
long, too conspicuously, too justly, as a landmark in 

no. 694. 



the history of art to be now thrust back under the 
waves of oblivion. A rapid glance over the progress 
of painting before his time will enable us to judge of 
his true claims, and place him in his true position rela- 
tive to those who preceded and those who followed him. 
The early Christians had confounded, in their honor 
of heathen idolatry, all imitative art and all artists. 
When, in the fourth century, the struggle between 
paganism and Christianity ended in the triumph and 
recognition of the latter, and art revived, it was, if 
not in a new form, in a new spirit, by which the old 
forms were to be gradually moulded and modified. The 
Christians found the shell of ancient art remaining ; 
the traditionary handicraft still existed ; certainraodels 
of figure and drapery, &c., handed down from antiquity, 
though degenerated and distorted, remained in use, 
and were applied to illustrate, by direct or symbolical 
representations, the tenets of a purer faith. From the 
beginning, the figures selected to typify our redemp- 
tion were those of the Saviour and the Blessed Virgin, 
first separately, and then conjointly as the Mother and 
Infant. The earliest monuments of Christian art re- 
maining are to be found, nearly effaced, on the walls 
and ceilings of the catacombs at Rome, to which the 
persecuted martyrs of the faith had fled for refuge. 
The first recorded representation of the Saviour is in 
the character of the Good Shepherd, and the attributes 
of Orpheus and Apollo were borrowed to express the 

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[January 28, 



character of Him who «' redeemed souls from Hell, ' 
and 4< gathered his people like sheep." In the ceme- 
tery of St. Calixtus at Rome a head of Christ was dis- 
covered, the most ancient of which any copy has come 
down to us : the figure is colossal ; the lace a long oval ; 
the countenance mild, grave, melancholy; the long 
hair, parted on the brow, falling in two masses on 
cither shoulder ; the beard not thick, but short and 
divided. Here then, obviously imitated from some 
traditional description (probably the letter of Lentulus 
to the Roman Senate, supposed to be a fabrication of 
the third century), we have the type, the generic cha- 
racter since adhered to in the representations of the 
Redeemer. In the same manner traditional heads of 
St. Peter and St. Paul, rudely sketched, became in 
after-times the groundwork of the highest dignity and 
beauty, still retaining that peculiarity of form and 
character which time and long custom had consecrated 
in the eyes of the devout. 

A controversy arose afterwards in the early Christian 
Church which had a most important influence on art 
as subsequently developed. One party, with St Cyril 
at their head, maintained that the form of the Saviour 
being described by the Prophet as without any outward 
comeliness, he should be represented in painting as 
utterly hideous and repulsive. Happily the most elo- 
quent and influential among the fathers of the church, 
St. Jerome, St. Augustin, St. Ambrose, and St. Bernard, 
took up the other side of the question ; the pope, 
Adrian I., threw his infallibility into the scale ; and 
from the eighth century we find it irrevocably decided, 
and confirmed by a papal bull, that the Redeemer 
should be represented with all the attributes of divine 
beauty which art in its then rude state could lend him. 

The most ancient representations of the Virgin Mary 
now remaining are the old mosaics, which are referred 
to the latter half of the fifth century :* in these she is 
represented as a colossal figure majestically draped, 
standing, one hand on her breast, and her eyes raised to 
heaven ; then succeeded her image in her maternal 
character, seated on a throne with the infant Saviour 
in her arms. We must bear in mind, once for all, that 
from the earliest ages of Christianity the Virgin 
Mother has been selected as the allegorical type of Re- 
ligion in the abstract sense; and to this, her sym- 
bolical character, must be referred those representa- 
tions of later times, in which she appears as trampling 
on the Dragon : as folding the nations of the earth 
within the skirts of her ample robe ; as interceding for 
sinners ; as crowned between heaven and earth by the 
Father and the Son. 

Besides the representations of Christ and the Virgin, 
some of 'the characters and incidents of the Old Testa- 
ment were selected as pictures, generally with reference 
to corresponding characters and incidents in the Gospel ; 
thus St. Augustin, in the latter half of the fourth cen- 
tury, speaks of the sacrifice of Isaac as a common sub- 
ject, typical, of course, of the Great Sacrifice. This 
system of corresponding subjects, of type and anti-type, 
was afterwards, as we shall see, carriea much farther. 

In the seventh century painting, as it existed in 
Europe, may be divided into two great schools or 
styles— the western, or Roman, of which the central 
point was Rome, and which was distinguished, amid 
great rudeness of execution, by a certain dignity of ex- 
pression and solemnity of feeling ; and the Eastern, or 
Byzantine school, of which Constantinople was the 
head-quarters, and which was distinguished by greater 
mechanical skill, by adherence to the old classical 
forms, by the use of gilding, and by the mean, vapid, 
spiritless conception of motive and character. 

From the seventh to the ninth century the most im- 
portant and interesting remains of pictorial art are the 
* At Youice and in the churches of Rome and Pna. 



mosaics in the churches,* and the miniature paimings 
with which the MS. Bibles and Gospels were deco- 
rated. 

But during the tenth and eleventh centuries Italy 
fell into a state of complete barbarism and confusion, 
which almost extinguished the practice of art in any 
shape ; of this period only a few works of extreme 
rudeness remain. In the Eastern empire painting still 
survived ; it became, indeed, more and more conven- 
tional, .insipid, and incorrect, but the technical me- 
thods were Kept up ; and thus it happened that when, 
in 1204, Constantinople was taken by the Crusaders, 
and that the intercourse between the east and west of 
Europe was resumed, several Byzantine painters soon 
afterwards passed into Italy and Germany, where they 
were employed to decorate* the churches ; and taught 
the practice of their art, their manner of pencilling, 
mixing and using colours, and gilding ornaments, }o 
such as chose to learn of them. They brought over the 
Byzantine types of form and colour, the long lean 
limbs, the dark-visaged Madonnas, the blood-stream- 
ing crucifixes ; and these were followed more or less 
servilely by the native Italian painters who # studied 
under them. Specimens of this early art remain, and iu 
these later times have been diligently sought and col- 
lected into museums as curiosities, illustrating the his- 
tory and progress of art: as such they are in the 
highest degree interesting ; but it must be confessed 
that otherwise they are not attractive. In the Berlin 
Gallery, and in that of the fine arts at Florence, the 
best specimens have been brought together, and there 
are a tew in the Louvrc.t The subject is geneially 
the Madonna and Child, throned, sometimes with 
angels or saints ranged on each side : the figures are 
stiff, the extremities long and meagre ; the head of the 
Virgin generally declined to the left ; the eyes Jong 
and narrow : the infant Saviour is generally clothed, 
and sometimes crowned ; two fingers of his right hand 
extended in act to bless ; the left band holding a globe, 
a scroll, or a book. The ornaments of the throne and 
borders of the draperies, and frequently the back- 
ground, are elaborately gilded ; the local colours are 
generally vivid; there is little or no relief; the hand- 
ling is streaky ; the flesh-tints arc blackish or greenish. 
At this time, and for two hundred years, afterwards 
(before the invention of oil-painting) pictures were 
painted either in fresco, an art never wholly lost, or 
on seasoned board, and the colours mixed with water 
thickened with white of e^g or the juice of the voting 
shoots of the fig-tree. This last method was styled by 
the Italians a colla or a tempera ; by the French, en 
dStrempe; and in English, distemper: an.d in this 
manner all movable pictures were executed previous 
to 1440. 

It is clear that before the birth of Ciinabue, that 
is, from 1200 to 1240, there existed schools of paint- 
ing in the Byzantine style, and under Greek teachers, 
at Sienna and at Pisa ; that the former produced 
Guido da Sienna, whose Madonna and Child, with 
figures the size of life, signed and dated 1221, is pre 
served in the church of San Domenico at Sienna. It 
is engraved in Rossini's • Storia del la Pittuia,* on the 
same page with a Madonna by Cimabuc, to which it 
appears superior in drawing, attitude, expression, and 
drapery. Pisa produced about the same time Giunta 
da Pisa, of whom there remain* works with the date 
1236 : one of these is a Crucifixion, engraved iu Otley's 
* Italian School of Design/ and on a smaller scale in 
Rossini's 4 Storia della Pittura,' in which the expi es- 
sion of grief in the hovering angels, who are wringing 
their hands and weeping, is very earnest and striking. 

* Particularly those in the cliurch of Santa Maria Majeure 
at Rome, and in the cliurch of St. Mark at Venice, 
f No*. 080, 9S1, 9*2. 



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But undoubtedly the greatest man of that time, he who 
pave the grand impulse to modern art, was the sculptor 
Nicola Pisano, whose works date from about 1220 to 
1270. Further, it appears, that even at Florence a 
native painter, a certain Maestro Bartolomeo, lived, 
and was employed in 1236.* Thus Cimabue can 
scarcely claim to be the " father of modern painting " 
even in his own city of Florence. We shall now pro- 
ceed to the facts on which his traditional celebrity has 
been founded. 

[To be continued.] 



ECONOMICAL USES OF THE PINE AND 
FIR. 

The benefits which man receives from trees of the 
pine and fir genera aTe varied and important in a 
degree which deserves our attention. They furnish 
timber for houses and for ships ; they form £ood roads ; 
they provide for some nations a substitute tor candles ; 
their bark yields a tanning ingredient ; various parts 
of them, in different countries, are converted into arti- 
cles of food ; fhey yield numerous varieties of the sub- 
stances known as resin, pitch, tar, and turpentine; 
and they are serviceable, in a living state, in fixing 
sandy soils. 

Let us first notice the edible properties of the pine 
and fir. These trees belong to the Conifertz, or cone- 
bearing trees, and the cones of many varieties are cus- 
tomarily eaten in some countries. They are in fact 
the fruit of the pine ; but the " pine-apple," commonly 
so called, is a misnomer, since it is the fruit of another 
kind of plant, which has obtained this name from its 
resemblance to the cone of the pine. The Romans 
used the cones of the pine to flavour their wine, and 
many modern nations do the same. The Laplanders 
grind the inner bark of the Scotch nine into a kind of 
coarse flour, which they make into oread. Mr. Laing 
says that he found this custom very prevalent in the 
cold countries of Norway and Lapland ; and indeed 
many of the forests which used to supply timber for 
exportation are now almost destroyed, from the exten- 
sive use of the inner bark of the trees for food. A 
mixture of oat and pine meal is said to make very 
tolerable bread : the meal is made into a fluid paste, 
which is thrown on a hot pan and dressed in the man- 
ner of pancakes. In some parts of Siberia the young 
shoots, as well as the inner bark, are used for food. 
Evelyn states that chips of the Scotch pine were in his 
days used as a substitute for hops ; and other writers 
state that the young shoots, stripped of their leaves 
when just about to appear, are sought for with avidity 
by the children of the peasantry, who eat them. 

Of another species, the stone-pine, the kernels of the 
fruit have a taste which approaches to that of the hazel- 
nut, and in France and Italy are often introduced at the 
dessert. Sir G. Staunton mentions that the kernels of 
the stone-pine are also much relished by the Chinese. 
In Italy they are put into several kinds of ragofits, and 
are often used as substitutes for almonds. In Provence 
they are used in conjunction with dried currants. 
These kernels are sometimes preserved in salt and 
sometimes in honey; but if kept closed within the 
cones, they will retain their vitality and freshness for 
five or six years. 

Of another kind, the Cembra pine, the kernels are 
used as those of the stone-pine ; and in addition to this 
they are made to yield oil: indeed, so abundant is the 
oil, that one pound of the kernels will yield twice as 
much as an equal weight of flax-seed. This oil is used 
both for food and for fuel. The shell of the kernel 
produces a red dye. The kernels, in some seasons, 

* Notes to c Vasari/ edit. 1832. 



form the chief article of food in Siberia, and they are 
deemed valuable medicinal agents. 

Without mentioning minor edible uses, we may 
briefly speak of the spruce, obtained from the spruce 
fir of America. Spruce beer is a kind of extract from 
the twigs and young shoots of this tree. The twigs are 
fastened into a faggot or bundle, and boiled for some 
time in a copper, till the bark separates from the 
twigs. While this is doing, a given weight of oats is 
roasted on a hot plate, together with a certain number 
of sea-biscuits or slices of bread. These ingredients 
are then put into the boiler and boiled with the twigs 
for somo time. The spruce branches being then taken 
out, and the fire extinguished, the oats and the bread 
fall to the bottom, and the leaves, &c. rise to the top. 
Molasses or coarse brown sugar is added, and the 
liquor is immediately tunned off into a cask. Before 
the liquor becomes cold, half a pint of yeast is mixed 
with it, and well stirred, to incorporate it thoroughly 
with the liquor. In England spruce beer is made from 
the " essence of spruce," which is prepared in America 
by evaporating to the consistence of an extract the 
water in which the ends of the young branches of 
spruce fir have been boiled. 

As timber-trees, the pine and the fir are so valuable, 
and are used in such a large variety of ways, that it 
would be utterly impracticable to enumerate them. 
One species yields long straight timbers for masts of 
ships ; another is available for part of the hull ; a third 
for flooring-boards in a house ; and so on, every 
scrap of timber in all the varieties being available in 
one or other of various ways. We may take as a single 
instance the white pine, and quote the account which 
Michaux gives of the uses to which it is applied in 
America, where large numbers of the houses are 
entirely built of this wood : — " The ornamental work 
of the outer doors, the cornices and pieces of apart- 
ments, and the mouldings of fire-places, all of which 
in America are elegantly wrought, arc of this wood. 
It receives gilding well, and is therefore selected for 
looking-glasses and picture-frames.. Sculptors employ 
it exclusively for the images that adorn the bows of 
vessels, for which they prefer the kind called _ the 
pumpkin pine. At Boston, and in other towns of the 
Northern States, the inside of mahogany furniture and 
of trunks, the bottoms of Windsor chairs of an inferior 
quality, water-pails, a great part of the boxes used for 
packing goods, the shelves lor shops, and an endless 
variety of other objects, are made of white pine. In 
the district of Maine it is employed for barrels to 
contain salted fish, especially the kind called the sap- 
ling pine, which is of a stronger consistence. For the 
magnificent wooden bridges over the Schuylkill at 
Philadelphia, and the Delaware at Trenton, and for 
those which unite Cambridge and Charlestown with 
Boston, of which the first is fifteen hundred and the 
second three thousand feet in length, the white pine 
has been chosen for its durability. It serves ex- 
clusively for the masts of the numerous vessels con- 
structed in the northern and middle states ; and for 
this purpose it would be difficult to replace it in North 
America." 

As an example of the use of the pine in ship-building 
the following inscription, given by Mr. Loudon in his 
' Arboretum/ maybe sufficient. In the entrance-hall 
of Gordon Castle in Scotland, there is a plank of 
Scotch pine about six feet long, by more than five 
broad, and in it is a brass plate bearing this inscription : 
" In the year 1783, William Osborne, Esq., merchant, 
of Hull, purchased of the Duke of Gordon the forest 
of Glenmore, the whole of which he cut down in the 
space of twenty-two years, and built, during that time, 
at the mouth of the river Spev, where never vessel 
was built before, forty-seven sail of ships of upwards 

3E 2 



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[January 2S, 



of 17,000 tons burden. The largest of them, of 1050 
tons, and three others little inferior in size, arc now 
in the service of hit-Majesty and the Honourable East 
India Company. This undertaking ttas completed at 
the expense (of labour only) of above 70,000/. To his 
Grace the Duke of Gordon this plank is offered, as a 
specimen of the growth of one of the trees in the above 
forest, by His Grace's most obedient servant, William 
Osborne. Hull, Sept. 26, 1836.' 

In Russia, roads are formed of the trunks of the 
Scotch pine. The trees selected arc such as have 
trunks trom six to twelve inches in diameter at their 
thickest end. The branches of these are lopped off to 
the length of twelve or fifteen feet, according to the 
width of the intended road, but are left remaining at 
the ends. The ground being marked off for the road, 
and made somewhat even on the surface, the trees are 
laid down across it side by side, the thick end of one 
trunk alternating with the narrow end of another, and 
the branches at the ends of the trunks forminp a sort of 
hedge on each side of the road. The interstices of the 
trunks are next filled up with soil ; and the road is 
completed. The hedges formed by the branches in the 
extremities of the trunks are found extremely useful 
after snow has fallen, and before it has become hard 
with the frost, and also in the commencement of a 
thaw, in indicating to the traveller when his horses are 
getting too near the edge of the road. Roads of this 
rude description are very suitable for marshy ground, 
and are common in the interior of Russia, and also in 
some parts of Poland. Down to a recent period, the 
greater part of the road from St. Petersburg to Mos- 
cow was of this description. In some of the towns, 
particularly Moscow and Kiew, regularly squared 
planks are laid dowq instead of rough trunks ; and, 
both in Moscow and Vienna, the courts of some of the 
larger mansions are paved with pieces of pine-trunk 
about eighteen inches in length, set Bide by side, and 
beaten down till they form a level surface. In Ame- 
rica these log-roads are much used, and obtain there 
the name of " corduroy-roads," probably on account, 
of a fancied resemblance between them and the 
ribbed appearance of the twilled stuff known as cor- 
duroy. In London, also, in all the various methods 
introduced and patented of wood pavement, now so 
rapidly increasing, the material, we believe, is in every 
case the fir or pine. 

The chips of many kinds of pine burn so brightly 
that they form a valuable sort of fuel or illuminating 
agent to poor cottagers. In Scotland, flambeaux of 
pine-trunks and roots are much used ; and a story is 
related of a wager laid in London by a Highland chief, 
that some massive silver candlesticks on the table at a 
gentleman's house where he was dining were not 
better, or more valuable, than those commonly in use 
in the Highlands. The chieftain won his bet, oy send- 
ing to his estate for four Highlanders of his clan, and 
producing them with torches of blazing fir in their 
nands, declaring that they were the candlesticks to 
which he alluded. The story has been also adopted by 
Sir W. Scott, in his * Legend of Montrose.' Mr. Howi- 
son observes of the peasantry in Russia, that the little 
tallow or oil which they can procure is entirely con- 
sumed at the shrines in the churches and before the 
images in their huts. To supply the place of candles 
in their domestic arrangements, they take long billets 
of red Scotch pine, which they dry carefully near their 
stoves during the tedious winter, and split as occasion 
requires into long pieces resembling laths. When a 
traveller arrives, or a light is required for any other 
purpose, one of these filths is lighted at the stove, 
and fixed in a wooden frame, which holds it in a 
horizontal position. It gives a bright flame, but burns 
only for a short time. 



All the species of pine and fir are used, in the re- 
spective countries where they grow, for a number of 
purposes scarcely susceptible of classification. Take 
the Norway spruce fir, for instance. It yields valuable 
fuel and charcoal. The ashes furnish potash. The 
bark is used in tanning; and the buds and youn^ 
shoots for making spruce beer. The cones, boiled in 
whey, are deemed good against the scurvy. In Sweden 
and Switzerland the young shoots form a winter food 
for cattle and sheep ; and the inhabitants of Finmarkmix 
the points of the shoots with the oats given to horses. 
The floors of rooms in Norway and Sweden are, at 
least once a week, strewed over with the green tops, 
which on a uhitc, well-scoured deal floor have a lively 
and pretty effect, and prevent the mud from the shoes 
adhering to and soiling the wood ; giving out, at the 
same time,-when trodden on, a refreshing odour. At 
Swedish funerals the road into the churchyard and to 
the grave is strewed with these green sprigs, the 
gathering and selling of which is a sort of trade for 
old poor persons about the towns. In both Sweden 
and Norway the inner hark is made into baskets; and 
the canoes, which are made of the timber of the large 
trees, and which are so light as to be carried on a 
man's shoulders when a rapid or cascade interrupts the 
navigation, have their planks fastened together with 
strings or cords made of the roots, so that not a single 
nail is used in their construction. The long and 
slender roots are made use of to form these strings ; 
and they are rendered flexible by splitting them down 
the middle, and boiling them for two or three hours in 
water containing alkaline salts. . 

The Scotch pine, in addition to the uses already 
mentioned, yields excellent charcoal. The fagot wooa 
of this kind of pine is said to be valued by the chalk 
and lime burners of England more than any other, on 
account of its rapid burning and intense beat, and con- 
sequent saving of time in tending the kilns. The 
leaves and branches are burned for potash, though of 
this alkali the tree yields only a small quantity. In the 
north of Russia and in Lapland the outer bark is used 
for covering huts, for lining them, and as a substitute 
for cork for floating the nets of fishermen. The inner 
bark is woven into mats, like those made from the 
lime-tree. Ropes are also made from the bark, which 
are said to be very strong and elastic, and are gene- 
rally used by the fishermen. 

In all these details we have refrained from mention- 
ing those products which arise from the juices of the 
tree, and which, under various modifications, yield 
resins, turpentine, tar, pitch, lamp-black, and other 
Bubstances valuable in the arts. These form a group 
of useful products of the pine and fir, so extensive and 
instructive, that it may be well to devote a separate 
paper to them. 

Chine* Eatables. — They eat almost everything that comet to 
hand. Upon the streets of the city, but particularly on the 
large square before the factories, a number of birds are daily ex- 
posed fbr sale which amongst us hare not yet gained much re- 
pute for flavour ; among others, hawks, owls, eagles, and storks* 
To a European, nothing can have a more laughable eflect than 
to see the Chinese arrive with a carrying-pole supporting two 
birdcages which contain dogs and cats instead of birds. A small 
thin sort of spaniel appeared to us to be most in request ; they 
sit quite downcast in their temporary dwellings when they are 
brought to market, whilst the cats make a dreadful squalling, a* 
if conscious of their fate. The flesh of these last, when they are 
well fed, is much esteemed in China, and they are often seen on 
the tables of the rich. Other Chinese bring unon their carrying- 
pole many dozens of rats, which are drawn cjuite clean, and, like 
pigs in our country, when they have been opened^ are hung up 
by means of a cross piece of wood through the hind-legs. These 
rows of rats look very nice, but they are only eaten by the poor 
— Meym's Voyage round the fVortd, 



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VENDEMMIA, OR ITALIAN VINTAGE. 

In the design before us Bartolomineo Pinelli (in art 
UltiinuB Romanorum !) brings out, to the life, a few 
of those figures and incidents which render parts of the 
Vendemmia or vintage in the south of Italy so grace- 
ful, picturesque, and classical. This is a season of joy, 
hilarity, and frolic, in all countries where the vine 
grows and ripena its generous fruit in abundance ; and, 
nearly everywhere, some attempt, more or less happy, 
is made to get un some rural Dionysia (vintage feast) 
or some semi-classical masquerade, with songs and 
other allusions to the Liber Pater, the god of wine, the 
great Bacchus. But in Italy, and more particularly 
in the southern parts of that beautiful peninsula, 
where— in many secluded districts at least — the old 
Italic and Greco-Italic blood has been but compara- 
tively little mingled with the blood of Goths or Visi- 
goths, Huns or Lombards, Normans or any other of 
the northern races, the successive conquerors of the 
country ; where the classical ages fill as large a por- 
tion of the popular traditions as the Gothic or dark or 
middle ages occupy in the traditions of the northern 
nations, mixing copiously with religious rites, and the 
usages, ceremonies, and observances of domestic life, 
and giving their point to popular proverbs, and fur- 
nishing out the vocabulary of household words ; where 
the constant view of ruined temples, aqueducts, am- 
phitheatres, mutilated statues, vases covered with clas- 
sical designs, and coins and medals dug up out of the 
earth, and a constant hearing of the names of towns 



ami village*, mountains and streams, that luve scarcely 
varied from their designation in the days of the Caesars, 
all serve to remind the people of the remote times 
when the paean mythology was not "a creed outworn," 
but the popular belief, — these vintage feasts have a far 
more classical and earnest character. In minor par- 
ticulars these very unlettered peasants not uncom- 
monly travestie ancient characters. They invariably 
talk of Virgil, not as a poet, but as a mighty conjuror 
and necromancer — a sort of Friar Bacon or Michael 
Scott. Of Ovid (Ovidius Naso) they only pretend to 
know that he had a very big nose. Cicero, from an 
orator, statesman, philosopher, becomes in their par- 
lance a synonymc for dandy, or for anything that is 
very fine : thus Castiglione tells us that he once heard 
aTtoman peasant wbo was eulogizing his own jackass, 
exclaim in a rhapsody, ** Ah ! sirs, when he has got on 
his new pack-saddle, he looks like a very Cicero !" 
By another strange technical application or the word, 
every ragged illiterate rogue that acts as a guide and 
shows strangers the ancient sites and ruins is called 
a Cicero — un Cicerone. But though they never read 
mythology in books — for books of any kind are rarities 
among them, and very few or none of them can read — 
they are orally acquainted with the names of the 
gods and goddesses, and seldom make mistakes as to 
the characters and attributes of the higher divinities of 
the classical paganism : their traditions, and the ancient 
relics they see, almost with the force of reality or of a 
real belief, give to Jove his thunderbolt, and to Juno 
her chariot drawn by peacocks, her jealousy, and her 



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[January 23, 



scolding habits ; to Mars his helmet and spear and the 
fale of battles, and to Venus, born of the sea, her 
matchless beauty of face and form ; Ceres brings the 
ripe corn that waves in the field and gives sustenance 
to man, and Bacchus the wine that makes glad his 
heart. Of these two last fabled divinities they will al- 
most talk as of their favourite or patron saints. From 
one end of Italy to the other there are few exclama- 
tions more frequently in the mouths of the common 
people than the " Per Bacco !" (by Bacchus), although, 
he it said to their credit, they are not his votaries to 
any excess in drinking. 

The Vendcmmia, or Vintage, is a sort of rustic 
Carnival, or Saturnalia holiday, in which, from time 
immemorial, they have been accustomed to allow 
themselves, and to be allowed by their masters and 
superiors, a degree of liberty as large as obtained 
among the common peonle of ancient Rome, when 
they commemorated the freedom and equality which 
prevailed on earth in the golden reign oi Saturn. As 
long as it lasts, the peasants employed in it indulge in 
a truly Fescennine licence of tongue with all who 
approach or chance to pass by, bespattering them with 
all manner of queer language, and pelting them with 
doggrel rhymes, without any regard to their rank or 
condition. When the wine is all trodden out in the 
wine-press — trodden out by the naked feet of jumping, 
frolicking, roaring swains — the prime part of the 
festival commences, consisting generally of a semi- 
ludicrous, semi-serious, classical procession, and of a 
good repast at the end of it. On more than one 
occasion we have observed a rather nice attention to 
detail, and certain delicate distinctions which were 
scarcely to have been expected from an ignorant, un- 
read peasantry. One procession was really admirable. 
Bacchus, instead of being represented in the manner 
of our vulgar sign-painters, by a fat, paunchy, red- 
faced, drunken boy, was personified by the tallest, 
handsomest, and most graceful young man of the party ; 
his head was crowned with a wreath of ivy and vine 
leaves, mixed with bunches of the purple grape, which 
hung down the sides and the back of his neck ; in his 
right hand he carried a lance tipped with a cone of 
pine or fir-apple, and the shaft was entwined with ivy 
and vine leaves, and some wild autumnal flowers, the 
thing thus being, as nearly as might be, the classical 
thyrsus, one of the most ancient attributes of the 
god and his followers ; a clean sheepVskin, spotted 
with the red juice of the grape, in imitation of the 
skin of the panther or spotted pard which Bacchus is 
represented as wearing when he went on his expe- 
ditions, was thrown gracefully over his shoulders ; he 
was followed by some silent, sedate women, carrying 
on their heads baskets filled with grapes; by little 
boys carrying in their hands large bunches of the same 
fruit ; by Bacchante of both sexes, who carried sticks 
entwined with vine leaves; by two or three carri, or 
carts, which had been used to convey the ripe fruit to 
the wine-press, each drawn by a pair of tali cream- 
coloured oxen, with those large, dark, pensive eyes to 
which Homer thought it no disparagement to compare 
the eyes of the wife of Jupiter ; and in the rear ot all 
came Silenus, a fat old man with his face and hands 
besm eared with wine-lees, bestriding a fat old ass. 
The Bacchante bounded, danced, frolicked, and laughed 
uproarously ; Silenus lolled and rolled upon his 
donkey, singing snatches of Vendemmia songs, making 
all sorts of ludicrous grimaces and gestures, and 
jocosely yet loudly abusing every stranger or neigh- 
bour he discovered in the throng. But Bacchus pre- 
served the decorum and dignity of the true classical 
character of the god who was as graceful as Apollo, 
who shared wilh that divinity the dominion of Par- 
nassus, and the faculty and glory of inspiring poets 



with immortal verse. The joyous shouts of Viva 
Bacco/ Viva la Vendemmia! the laughs and shouts 
of the Bacchante, the songs and jokes of old Silenus, 
were mingled with the beat and jingle of two or three 
tambourines, with the rural sound of cow-horns, and 
occasionally with the blasts of a cracked but antique- 
looking trumpet, and with the clapping of hands and 
shoutings of all the men and women, boys and girls of 
the district. The Caecuban hills, which bore the fruit 
productive of the generous wine which Horace extolled 
as the drink of Maecenas— and which render as good 
wine now, though all unknown to fame, as they did in 
the days of Augustus Caesar — echoed and re-echoed 
with the joyous sounds, for the scene of the festivity 
was at tbp foot of those hills, on whose sunny slopes 
the vines had ripened which furnished this happy 
vintage. 

When questioned as to how they arranged their 
very classical procession, the peasants could only say 
that they did as they had done year after year, and as 
their fathers and grandfathers had done before them. 
The Parocchiano, or parish priest, who thought it no 
sin or degradation to follow the procession and partake 
in the feast, did not appear to have much more learn- 
ing on the subject. 



THE GREAT SIDON. 

The country of the Phoenicians, in which, at a very 
early period, flourished a town thus emphatically dis- 
tinguished, was of very limited dimensions even at the 
time when the nation arrived at its highest condition 
of splendour and power. It comprehended that part 
of tne Syrian coast which extends from Tyre north- 
ward to Aradus. This strip of land reached to about 
fifty leagues from north to south ; but its utmost 
breadth did not exceed eight or ten leagues. The 
coast abounded in bays and harbours, and its breadth 
was traversed by mountains branching from Libanus, 
several of which advanced their promontories into the 
sea. The summits of these mountains were covered 
with forests, which afforded to the Phoenicians the 
most valuable timber for the constiuction of their 
ships and habitations. This explains how it happens 
that the first time this people is brought personally 
under our notice in the Bible is in the character of 
persons skilled in the hewing and transport of wood ; 
including, no doubt, much ability in the preparation 
and application to various uses. When Solomon was 
going to build the Temple, he communicated to the 
king of Tyre his wish to enter into an engagement 
for a supply of timber, knowing, as he said, " There is 
not among us any that can skill to hew timber like 
unto the Sidonians." The answer of the Tyrian king 
is remarkable — " I will do all thy desire concerning 
timber of cedar and concerning timber of fir : my ser- 
vants shall bring them down from Lebanon unto the 
sea ; and I will convey them by sea, in floats, unto the 
place that thou shalt appoint me, and I will cause them 
to be discharged there/' (1 Kings, v.) This was 
speaking like a man accustomed to the business. 

The waves, breaking violently against the steep 
cliffs, seem to have detached several capes from the 
terra firma, forming islands, which the Phoenicians 
were not tardy in covering with numerous colonics 
and flourishing towns. 

In this tract of country the great city of Sidon was 
founded. If it owed its foundation to Sidon, the eldest 
son of Canaan, whose name it seems to bear, it must 
have been one of the most ancient cities in the world. 
This is the common opinion, supported by the authority 
of Josephus. The town was, at any rate, very ancient : 
it must have existed long before the time of Joshua, 
for it is here called great— ?and a city must have time 



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to acquire greatness. Some indeed Lave taken occa- 
sion, from the expression *' Great Zidon," to conclude 
that there were two Sidons — one much more consider- 
able than the other ; but no geographer or historian 
takes notice of any Sidon but this " Great Zidon." The 
greatness of Sidon was the result of its skill in manu- 
factures and of its attention to commerce. The skill 
of the Sidonians in felling timber, and in applying it 
to use, has been already mentioned. They built ships. 
If they were not the first ship-builders and navigators 
of the world, they were undoubtedly the first who ven- 
tured beyond their own coasts, and the first that esta- 
blished anything that can be called a maritime com- 
merce. The Sidonians are said to have been the first 
manufacturers of glass. Homer mentions them fre- 
quently, and always as excelling in many ingenious 
and useful arts, giving them the title of iro\vcai8a\oi ; 
and. accordingly, all superior articles of dress, all 
good workmanship in making vessels for use, and all 
ingeniously contrived trinkets and toys, are ascribed 
by him to the skill and industry of the Sidonians. — 
Thus, the queen of Troy, intending to ofTcr a mantle 
to Pallas,— 

" Herself, the while, her chamber, ever sweet 
With burning odours, sought. There stored she kept 
Her mantles of all hues, accomplish "d works 
Of fair Sidonians, waded o'er the deep 
By godlike Pari?, when the galleys brought 
The high-born Helen to the shores of Troy. 
From these the widest and of brightest dyes 
She chose for Pallas; radiant as a star 
It glitter'd, and was lowest placed of all. M 

Achilles, at the funeral games for Patroclus, pro- 
poses, as the prize for the best runner, — 

" A silver goblet, of six measures ; earth 
Own'd not its like for elf gance of form. 
Skilful Sidon i an artists had around 
Embellish 'd it ; and o'er the sable deep, 
Phoenician merchants into Lemuos' port 
Had borne it, and the boon to Thaos giv'n." 

When Telemachus expressed strong admiration of 
the wealth and splendour, in gold and silver, ivory 
and brass, which the palace of Menelaus exhibited, the 
latter accounts for it by observing that his treasures 
had been collected in his perilous wanderings, during 
which he had visited the shores of Cyprus, Phoenicia, 
Sidon, and Egypt. Lastly, in another place {Odyss. 
xv.), a story occurs, replete with indications of the 
character and pursuits of the Sidonians. At the island 
of Syria, — 

"It chanced that from Phoenicia, famed for skill 
In arts marine, a vessel thither came, 
liy sharpers mann'd, and laden deep with toys." 

The sailors meet on the beach a woman belonging to 
the family of the chief of the island. She wa3 — 

" A fair Phoenician, tall, full-sized, and skill'd 
J n works of ejegance." 

And on being interrogated, she tells her country- 
men, — 

" I am of Sidon, famous for her wealth, 
By dyeing earii'd." 

In pursuance of a plot laid between them, one of the 
men went to the palace, as if to dispose of Sidonian 
wares : — 

" An artist, such he seem'd, for sale produced 
Beads of hright amber riveted in gold." 

These indications concerning a people situated so 
near to the Hebrews, and, in the cr.d, so closely con- 
nected with them, are in no small degree interesting. 
The superiority in manufactures and commerce does 
not, ho waver, form the only distinction of the Sidonians, 



for they were also great adepts in the sciences of their 
time, particularly astronomy and arithmetical calcu- 
lation. As might naturally be expected, under such 
prosperous circumstances, trie people lived in ease and 
luxury. For this they were early remarkable, as we 
see from a comparison used in speaking of the town of 
Laish : — " The people who dwelt in it were careless ; 
after the manner of the Sidonians ', quiet and secure ; 
and there was nothing to molest them in the land : 
they possessed also riches without restraint." (Judg. 
xviii. 7 — Boothroyd's version.) 

Ultimately, however, Sidon was eclipsed, in all its 
characteristics of superiority, by Tyre, which is called 
in the Bible " the daughter of Sidon," it having been 
in its origin a settlement of the Sidonians. Whether 
the historical Tyre at this time existed is a question 
that occasions some discussion. The text of verse 29 
is certainly by no means conclusive on this subject, 
into which we shall not at present enter further than 
to observe that if the old continental Tyre of history 
did at this time exist, it was evidently in its infant 
state, in which it could not be mentioned in compari- 
son with that " great Sidon " which it was in the end 
destined to overshade. In support of the negative, 
much stress has been laid upon the silence of Homer, 
who so frequently mentions Sidon, but never Tyre. As 
we have just been quoting Homer, we may observe 
that there is nothing in this argument to rescue it from 
the suspicion which usually rests on arguments drawn 
from mere silence. Tyre existed and had a king in 
the time of David, and in the time of Solomon was a 
great commercial city ; and the time of Homer is from 
one to two centuries later than the times of David and 
Solomon. 

Although Sidon lost its superiority under the pre- 
dominating influence of Tyre, it long remained a place 
of very considerable importiftice. Its general history 
is so much connected with that of Tyre, that we shaft 
not here mention it separately. Tyre is now a com- 
plete desolation ; but Sidon still subsists as a town, and 
carries on some traffic with the neighbouring coasts. 
It is now called Saide or Seide. The inhabitants are 
estimated at about fifteen thousand, who are chiefly 
occupied in spinning cotton, which, with silk and boots, 
shoes, and slippers of morocco leather, form the prin- 
cipal articles of their trade. The port is now nearly 
choked up with sand. The town rises immediately 
from the strand, and presents a rather imposing 
appearance as viewed from a distance; but the interior 
is wretched and gloomy, ill-built, dirty, and full of 
ruins. Outside the walls, fragments ot columns and 
other remains of the ancient city may still be disco- 
vered. The following remarks, from Mr. Jowetts 
• Christian Researches in Syria,' respecting the country 
between Tyre and Sidon, will be interesting : — " About 
halfway between Saide (Sidon) and Sour (Tyre) are 
very extensive ruins of towns which once connected 
these two cities; but of these ruins thcie is scarcely 
one stone left upon another. They consist chiefly ot 
lines which show, rased even with the soil, the founda- 
tion of houses — many stones irregularly scattered — a 
few cisterns with halt-defaced sculpture on them ; and 
at a considerable distance from the path there are at 
one spot several low columns, either mutilated or con- 
siderably sunk in the earth. These relics show — what 
it needed, indeed, no such evidence .to prove — that m 
peaceable and flourishing times, on this road, between 
two such considerable cities as Tyre and Sidon, there 
must have been many smaller towns for business, 
pleasure, or agriculture, delightfully situated by the 
sea-side : but peaceful security has long been a blessing 
unknown to tnese regions." 



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["January 28, 1W3. 



Waives in Spam. — I eat down in the vent a where I put up : 
there wu a huge fire, consisting of the greater part of the trunk 
of an olive-tree ; the company was rather miscellaneous — a 
hnnter with his escopeta ; a brace of shepherds with immense 
dogs, of that species for which Ettremadura is celebrated ; a 
broken soldier, just returned from the wars : and a b«gger, wn o, 
alter demanding charity par las sitts ttagas ds Maria Santisstma, 
took a seat amidst us, and iriade himself quite comfortable. The 
hostess was an actire, bustling woman, and busied herself in 
cooking my supper, which consisted of the game which I had 
purchased at Jaraicejo, and which, on my taking leave of the 
gipsy, he had counselled me to take with me. In the mean 
time, I sat by the fire, listening to the conversation of the com- 
pany. " I would I were a wolf," said one of the shepherds ; " or, 
indeed, anything rather than what I am. A pretty life is this 
of ours, out in the cumpo, among the carascales, suffering heat 
and cold for a peseta a day. I would I were a wolf: he fares 
better, and is more respected, than the wretch of a shepherd." 
4< Hut he frequently fares scurvily,*' said I ; " the shepherd and 
dogs fall upon him, and then he pays for his temerity with the 
loss of his head." •' That is not often the case, senor traveller/' 
said the shepherds : " he watches his opportunity, end seldom 
runs into harm's way. And as to attacking him, it h uo very 
pleasant task ; he lias both teeth and claws, and dog or man 
who has once felt them likes not to venture a second time 
within his reach. These dogs of mine will seite a bear singly 
with considerable alacrity, though he is a most powerful 
animal ; but I have seen them run howling away from a 
wolf even though there were two or three of us at hand to 
encourage them." " A dangerous person is the wolf," said the 
other shepherd, " and cunning as dangerous ; who knows more 
than he? He knows the vulnerable point of every animal : see, 
for example, how he flies at the neck of a bullock, tearing open 
the veins with his grim teeth and claws. But does lie attack a 
horse in this manner? I trow not/' " Not he," said the other 
shepherd, "he is too good a judge; but he fastens ou the 
haunches, and hamstrings him in a moment. Oh ! the fear of the 
horse when he comes near the dwelling of the wolf* My master 
was the other day riding in the despoblado, above the pass, on 
his fine Andalusian steed, which had cost him five hundred 
dollars : suddenly the horse stopped, and sweated and trembled 
like a woman in the act of tainting ; my roaster could not 
conceive the reason, but presently he heard a squealing and 
growling in the bushes, whereupon he fired off nis gun, and 
scared the wolves, who scampered away : but he tells me that 
the horse has not yet recovered from his fright.*' <! Yet the 
mares know, occasionally, how to baulk him,*' replied his 
companion : *' there is great craft and malice in mares, as there 
is in females: see them feeding in the campo with their young 
cria about them ; presently the alarm is given that the wolf is 
drawing near ; they start wildly, and run about for a moment, 
but it is only for a moment, — amain they gather together, form- 
ing themselves into a circle, in the centre of which they place 
the foals. Onward comes the wolf, hoping to make his dinner 
on horse-flesh ; he is mistaken, however, the mares have baulked 
him, and are as cunning as himself: not a tail is to be seen— 
not a hinder quarter — but there stand the whole troop, their fronts 
towards him ready to receive him, and as he runs round them 
barking and howling, they rise successively on their hind legs, 
ready to stamp him to the earth, should he attempt to hurt their 
cria or themselves." tk Worse than the he- wolf," said the 
soldier, " is the female; for, as the stuor pastor has well observed, 
there is more malice in women than in males : to see one of these 
she-demons with a troop of the males at her heels is truly sur- 
prising ; where she turns they turn, ai:d what she does that do 
they ; for they appear bewitched, and have no power but to 
imitate, her actions. I was once travelling with a comrade over 
the hills of Galicia, when we heard a howl : * Those are wolves, 1 
said my companion; ' let us get out of the way :" so we stepped 
from the path, and ascended the side of the hill a little way, to 
a terrace, where grew vines, after the manner of Galicia : pre- 
sently appeared a large grey she-wolf, deahonesta, snapping and 
growling at a troop of demons, who followed close behind, their 
tails uplifted, and their eyes like firebrands. What do you think 
the perverse brute did f Iu&tead of keeping to the path, she turned 
in the very direction in which we were : there was now no remedy ; 
so we stood still. I was the first upon the terrace, and by me 
she pasted so close, that I felt her hair brush against my legs : 
she, however, took no notice of me, but pushed on, neither look- 
ing to the right nor left, and all the other wolves trotted by me 



without offering the slightest injury or even at much as looking 
at me. Would that I could say as much for my poor com* 
panion, who stood ferthtr on, and was, I believe, lest in the 
demon's way than 1 was ; she had nearly passed him, when 
suddenly she turned half round aud snapped at him. I shall 
never forget what followed ; in a moment a dosen wolves wore 
upou him, tearing him limb from limb, with bowlings like 
nothing in this world ; in a few moments he was devoured, 
nothing remaining but the skull and a few bones, and than they 
passed on in the same manner as they came. Good reason luW 
I to be grateful that my lady- wolf took less notice of me than 
my poor comrade.'— The Bible m Spain, by Gtorg* Honow 



Ripening of Fruit.— So long as the fruit it green it possesses to 
a certain extent the physiological action of a leaf, and decom- 
poses carbonic acid under the influence of light ; but as soon as 
it begins to ripen this action ceases, and the fruit is wholly nou- 
rished by the sap elaborated by the leaves. Tims the fruit has, 
in common with the leaves, the power of elaborating sap, and also 
the power of attracting sap from the surrounding parts. Hence 
we see that where a number of fruits art growing together, one 
or more of them attract the sap or nutriment from all the real, 
which in consequence drop ofl. As the food of the fruit is pre- 
jMired by the leaves under the influence of solar light, it follows 
that the excellence of the fruit will depend chiefly ou the excel- 
lence of the leaves ; and that if the latter are not sufficiently 
developed, or not duly exposed to the action of the sun's rays, or 
placed at too great a distance from the fruit, the latter will be 
diminutive in size and imperfectly ripened, or may drop ofl 
before attaining maturity. Hence the inferiority of fruits which 
grow on naked branches, or even ou branches where there is uot 
a leaf close to tlie fruit ; as in the case of a bunch of grapes, 
wjjere the leaf immediately above it has been- out off, or in that 
of a gooseberry, where the leaf immediately above it has been 
eaten by a caterpillar. Hence it is evident that the secretions 
formed by the fruit are principally derived from the matter ela- 
borated iu the leaf or leaves next to it; and as the tap of all the 
leaves is more or less abundant according to the supply received 
from the roots, the excellence of fruits depends ultimately on 
the condition of the roots, and the condition, position, and expo- 
sition of the leaves.— Loudon's Suburban Hortteultnritt. 



Couches in Yucatan. — I left Merida by coach for Campeachy. 
It started at five o'clock in the morning with three passengers ; 
an elderly woman and man, and myself, composing the load. 
The team galloped off at the rate of iet\ miles an hour, and 
changed horses every hour during the route. The coach was one 
of four which were imported from Troy (U. £.), and, at a sam- 
ple, was well worthy of the high reputation the Trojan carriages 
enjoy throughout the United States ; but the horses and him^ 
were in shocking bad keeping. The driver was an Indian; bo- 
sides whom were two other attendants, who were needed, for the 
unskilful hands of the Indian and the wildness of the horses 
made the vehicle go on all sides of the road. It was no uncom- 
mon occurrence to be brought up against a stone wall at the side 
of the road ; and, in one instance, we were foul of an Indian hut 
which frightened the inmates to such a degree that they ran out, 
supposing it to be an earthquake. By combining the skill and 
strength of our whole party, we succeeded in getting the hones 
and coach again upon the highway. We stopped at a village to 
take breakfast, and passed through several towns ou the road, but 
they afforded nothing worthy of remark. Tlie country through 
which our route lay presented the same aspect as other parts we 
had visited. The fields were still covered with weeds, to burn 
which the proprietors of the soil were only waiting for dry wea- 
ther. This is the only preparation the soil receives prior to sow- 
ing it. The progress of the coach afforded us much amusement 
by the flight which it appeared to occasion to all animated 
nature in our way. This line of coaches had been only a short 
time established, and its whirling along among people and cattle 
had a similar effect to that a locomotive has among the animals 
aud their owners iu the wilds of the far West. Nothing would 
stand before it. Away went horse and rider, mule and packs, to 
secure a safe retreat in the bushes, at. the alarmiug sound of our 
approach. Our arrival iu the town brought out the whols popu- 
lation, aud the Indians would come round the coach aching with 
curiosity, their countenances expressive both of fear and admira- 
tion. — Normans Ruined Citiss of Yucatan. 



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33 



A DAY AT THE BRITISH NEEDLE-MILLS, REDDITCH. 



[Needle-pointtr at work.} 



Why arc needles made at Redditch J Why should a 
beautiful and secluded part of the county of Worcester, 
many miles distant from what are termed the " manu- 
facturing districts," contain a village whose inhabit- 
ants, one and all, live directly or indirectly by making 
these little steel implements? The fact is demon- 
strable, but the reason is not. The ^ood housewife who 
mends her child's pinafore, the milliner who decks out 
a lady in her delicate attire, the hard-working semp- 
stress who supplies " made-up goods " to the shops, the 
school-girl who works her sampler — all, however little 
they may be aware of the fact, are dependent prin- 
cipally on a Worcestershire village for the supply of 
their needles. Their •Whitechapei Sharps' are no 
longer made at Whitechapel, even if they ever were 
so ; and though they may in some cases seem to ema- 
nate from London manufacturers, the chances are that 
they were made at Redditch. Not that other towns are 
without indications of this branch of manufacture ; but 
in them it is merely an isolated feature, each manu- 
facturer gathering round him a body of workmen suf- 
ficient for his purpose. But at Redditch, as we shall 
presently see, needle-making is the staple, the all-in- 
all, without which almost every house in the place 
would probably be shut up ; for although there is a 
fair sprinkling of the usual kind of workmen, shop- 
keepers, dealers, &c., these are only such as are neces- 
sary for supplying the wants of the needle-making 
population. 

It is a strange thing that the Redditch manufac- 
turers themselves seem scarcely able to assign a reason 

no. 695. 



why this branch of industry has centred there, or to 
name the period of its commencement. Indeed the 
early history of the needle-trade is very indistincth- 
recorded. Stow tells us, while speaking of the kind 
of shops found in C heaps ide and other busy streets of 
London, that needles were not sold in Cheapside until 
the reign of Queen Mary ; and that they were at that 
time made by a Spanish negro, who refused to discover 
the secret of his art. Another authority states, that 
" needles were first made in England by a native of 
India in 1545, but the art was lost at his death ; it was, 
however, recovered in 1650, by Christopher Greening, 
who settled, with his three children, at Long Crendon. 
in Buckinghamshire." Whether the " negro " in the 
one of these accounts is the same individual as the 
44 native of India" mentioned in the other, cannot now 
perhaps be determined ; nor is it more clear at what 
period Redditch became the centre of the manu- 
facture. There are slight indications of Redditch 
needle-making for a period of nearly two centuries, 
but beyond that all is blank. 

A reader who associates the Potteries with the clay 
districts of North Staffordshire, and the smelting-works 
with the coal and iron districts of South Staffordshire, 
will naturally seek to know whether any features dis- 
tinguish Redditch which will enable us to assign a pro- 
bable origin for the needle-manufacture there. Let 
him take, with us, a survey of the surrounding district, 
and judge. Perhaps Birmingham maybe taken as a 
centre to start from, being itself a chief seat of manu- 
factures in metal. Weproceed to Bromsgrove, making 



Vol. XII.-F 



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[Janca&Y, 1843. 



the Birmingham and Gloucester Railway our line of 
transit ; for in these railroad days we are often obliged 
to travel in a much more roundabout way to small 
towns than when stage-coaches were in the height of 
their power. 

To Bromsgrove then we proceed, and soon find that 
the iron and coal region is being left behind us. We 
leave the smoking chimneys of Birmingham, and soon 
get into the undulating and picturesque districts of 
Worcestershire. For miles nothing like a factory or a 
manufacturing town is to be seen ; green fields, ivy- 
covered churches, and secluded villages have super- 
seded them. On a commanding height an obelisk or 
pillar, visible for many miles on every side, marks the 
domains of the squire, the " great man " of the neigh- 
bourhood ; while the outline of the Malvern Hills is 
dimly marked at a distance. After descending the 
famous ** Lickey incline/' where the railway elopes an 
inch in a yard for more than two miles of length, we 
come to Bromsgrove, an ancient market-town, which 
serves as a centre for the villages around. We then 
bid a farewell to railroad, to stage-coaches, to omni- 
buses; we must cither trudge it on foot, or hire a 
vehicle to traverse the six miles which separate 
Bromsgrove from Redditch. Here we get still more 
into the country, and marvel still more that a scat of 
manufacture should be found here. We do not see 
waggons laden with manufactured goods, nor work- 
men hastening homeward to their meals ; but we see 
women returning from Bromsgrove market, seated 
on rough little horses, with panniers on either side 
of them ; we see, too, cottages, whose white exteriors are 
decked with black lines in a fashion very prevalent in 
Worcestershire, and intended, we presume, to be orna- 
mental. Fields and hedges, hills and valleys, diversify 
the whole diHlfpce. 

At length a turn in the road brings us within sight 
of the village which we seek. Redditch lies spread 
out before us, its red brick houses forming a striking 
contrast with the green fields seen in the distance. 
Among the houses met with on entering the village are 
some of a superior order to the rest ; and these we find 
on inquiry to be the private residences of the chief 
needle-manufacturers, the men whose capital gives 
activity to all the other inhabitants of the place. Soon 
we see evidences of factory arrangements, in buildings 
plentifully supplied with windows; and on advancing 
farther into the village (for a village it still is, although 
the inhabitants are now becoming numerous), we meet 
with the dwellings of the workmen and the shops of 
the dealers who supply their daily wants. A visitor, 
in any degree accustomed to watch the progress of 
manufactures, then naturally looks around him to seek 
for any indications whence he may account for the 
location of the needle-making : he looks for a stream, 
or canal, or something which may be to the manufac- 
ture in the relation of cause to effect ; but very little 
of the kind is to be seen. Needle-making is nearly 
all the result of manual dexterity, requiring very 
little aid indeed from water or steam power. There 
are, it is true, a few water-wheels employed in working 
machines for 'scouring' the needles; but Redditch 
presents no other facilities for this purpose than such 
as are presented by a thousand otner places in the 
kingdom. In short, there seems to be no other mode 
of accounting for the settlement of the needle-manu- 
facture in this spot than that which may be urged in 
reference to watch-making in Clerkenwcll or coach- 
making in Long Acre. A needle-maker, we will sup- 
pose — say two centuries ago — settled at Redditcn, 
and gradually accumulated round him a body of 
workmen. A supply of skilled labour having been 
thus secured, another person set up in the same line, — 
Derhaps enticing away some of the men from his pre- 



decessor. In time the workmen's children learned the 
occupation carried on by their parents, and thus fur- 
nished an increased supply of labour, which, in its 
turn, led to the establishment of other manufacturing 
firms. By degrees so many needles were made at 
Redditch, that the village acquired a reputation through- 
out the length and breadth of the land for this branch 
of manufacture, and hence it became a positive ad- 
vantage for a maker to be able to say that his needles 
were " Redditch needles." This train of surmises may 
perhaps approach pretty nearly to the truth. r 

Let us, however, leave conjecture, and proceed to 
facts. There are in Redditch about a dozen manufac- 
turers, each of whom conducts the needle-manufactui'e 
on a large scale, and employs a considerable number 
of persons. The workpeople are of two kinds, dis- 
tinctly separated by the terms on which their ser- 
vices are rendered. Some work in factories, built by 
and conducted under the superintendence of the master 
manufacturers ; while others work at their own homes, 
being paid according to the kind and amount of the 
work done. In no occupation, perhaps, is the division of 
labour more strictly carried out than in needle-making, 
for the man who anneals does not point, nor does the 
pointer make the eyes or polish the needles. Both 
within and without the factory the same system of 
division is kept up ; for a cottager who procures work 
from a nccdle-manufacturcr does not undertake the 
making of a needle, but only one particular depart- 
ment, tor which he is paid at certain recognised prices. 
Many of the workpeople live at a few miles distance, 
and come with their finished work at intervals of a 
few days; a plan which can be adopted without much 
inconvenience, since a considerable quantity of these 
little articles may be packed in a small space. It is, 
we believe, estimated that the number of needle-makers 
in Redditch is about three thousand ; and in the whole 
district of which Redditch is the centre, six or seven 
thousand, of whom a very considerable number are 
females. 

The general name of ' mills' is given to the needle- 
factories, each one having some distinctive name 
whereby it may be indicated. Thus the establishment 
which we have been obligingly permitted to visit, and 
the arrangements of which will be described in this 
paper, is called the " British Needle-Mills." " What a 
in a name?" We need not stop to inquire: it will 
suffice to say that this custom is very prevalent in the 
factories of the north, and no doubt facilitates the dis- 
tinguishing of one factory from another. To the 
" British Needle-Mills " of Mr. Thomas, then, our visit 
is directed. 

This factory has been recently constructed, and is 
situated at one extremity of the village. It consists of 
a number of small court-yards or quadrangles, each 
surrounded by buildings wherein the manufacture is 
carried on* The object of this arrangement seems to 
be to obtain as much light as possible in the work- 
shops, since most of the departments of needle-making 
require a good light. Some of the rooms in the fac- 
tory are small, containing only three or four men ; 
while others contain a great many workmen, according 
to the requirements of the several processes of the 
manufacture. From the upper rooms of the factory 
the surrounding hilly districts of Worcestershire are 
seen over a wide extent, wholly uninterrupted by any 
indications of manufacture or of town bustle ; and it 
is while glancing over this prospect that one wonder3 
how on earth needle-making came to speckle such a 
scene. 

The subdivisions of the factory correspond with 
those in the routine of manufacture ; and we accord- 
ingly find that, while some of the shops are occupied 
by men, others contain only females, and others again 



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lurnisn employment chiefly for "boys. We should 'sur- 
prise many a reader were we to enumerate all the 
processes incident to the manufacture of a needle, 
giving to each the technical name applied to it in tf 
factory. The number would amount to somewhe 
about thirty; but it will be more in accordance wi 
our object to dispense with such an enumeration, ai 
to present the details of manufacture in certain grouj 
without adhering to a strictly technical arrangement 

First, then, for the material. It is scarcely nccessa 
to Bay that needles are made of steel, and that the ste 
is brought into the state of fine wire hefore it cj 
assume the form of needles. The needle-makers a 
not wire-drawers : they do not prepare their own wii 
but purchase it, in sizes varying with the kind 
needles which they are about to make, from Sbeffie 
or Birmingham, or some similar town. We will su 
pose, therefore, that the wire is brought to the need] 
factory, and is deposited in a store-room. This roo 
is kept warmed by hot air to an equable temperatui 
in order that the steel may he preserved free frc 
damp or other sources of injury. Around the wa 
are wooden bars or racks, on which are hung the hoo 
of wire. Each hoop contains, on an average, abo 
twelve or fourteen pounds of wire, the length varyii 
according to the diameter. Perhaps it may be co 
venient to take some particular size of needle, ai 
make it our standard of comparison during the deta 
of the process. The usual sizes of sewing needles a 
from No. 1, of which twenty-two thicknesses make i 
inch, to No. 12, of which there are a hundred to i 
inch. Supposing that the manufacturer is about 
make sewing-needles of that .size which is knov 
to sempstresses as No. 6 — then the coil of wire 
about two feet in diameter ; it weighs about thirlei 
pounds; the length of wire is about a mile and 
quarter ; and it will produce forty or fifty thousai 
needles. The manufacturer has a gauge, consistii 
of a small piece of steel, perforated at the edge wiui 
eighteen or twenty small slits, all of different sizes, and 
each having a particular number attached to it. By 
this gauge the diameter of every coil of wire is tested, 
and by the number every diameter of wire is known. 

A coil of wire, when about to be operated on, is 
carried to the * cutting-shop/ where it is cut into 
pieces equal to the length of two of the needles about 
to be made. Fixed up against the wall of the shop is 
a ponderous pair of shears, with the blades uppermost. 
'The workman takes probahly a hundred wires at once, 
grasps them between his hands, rests them against a 
gauge to determine the length to which they are to be 
cut, places them between the blades of the shears, and 
cuts them by pressing with his body or thigh against 
one of the handles of the shears. The coil is thus 
reduced to twenty or thirty thousand pieces, each about 
three inches long ; and as each piece had formed a 
portion of a curve two feet in diameter, it is easy to 
see that it must necessarily deviate somewhat from 
the straight line. This straightness must be rigor- 
ously given to the wire before the needle-making is 
commenced; and the mode by which it is effected is 
one of the most remarkable in the whole manufacture. 
In the first place the wires are annealed. Around the 
walls of the annealing-shop we see a number of iron 
rings hung up, each from three or four to six or seven 
inches in diameter, and a quarter or half an inch in 
thickness. Two of ihese rings are placed upright on 
their edges, at a little distance apart ; and within them 
are placed many thousands of wires, which arc kept in 
a group by resting on the interior edges of the two 
rings. In this state they are placed on a shelf in a 
small furnace, and there kept till red hot. On be- 
ing taken out, at a glowing heat, they arc placed 
on an iron plate, the wires being horizontal, and the 



rings in which they are inserted being vertical. The 
process of •rubbing* (the technical name for the 
straightening to which we allude) then commences, 

mt _ " 1 ^L - _. 1. ^ *_J A..1 - 1 '--g+m 



ce 



oi iron or sieei, pernaps an men in wium, anu, in- 
serting it between the two rings, rubs the needles 
backwards and forwards, causing each needle to roll 
over on its own axis, and also over and under those 
by which it is surrounded. The noise emitted by 
this process is just that of filing ; but no filing 
takes place ; for the rubber is smooth, and the sound 
arises from the rolling of one wire against another. 
The rationale of the process is this : — the action of 
one wire on another brings them all to a perfectly 
straight form, because any convexity or curvature 
in one wire would be pressed out by the close con- 
tact of the adjoining ones. The heating of the wires 
facilitates this process ; and the workman knows, by 
the change of sound, when all the wires have been 
' rubbed* straight. By the facility of the moving o* 
the rings on the bench, the facility of movement among 
the wires in the rings, and the peculiar mode in which 
the workman applies his tools, every individual wire is 
in turn brought in contact with the rubber. 

Our needles have now assumed the form of perfectly 
straight pieces of wire, say a little more than three 
inches in length, blunt at both ends, and dulled at the 
surface by exposure to the fire. Each of these pieces 
is to make two needles, the two ends constituting the 
points ; and both points are made before the piece of 
wire is divided into two. The pointing immediately 
succeeds the rubbing, and consists in grinding down 
each end of the wire till it is perfectly snarp. This is 
the part of needle-making wnich has attracted more 
attention than all the rest put together. The surpris- 
ing manipulation by which the needles are applied to 
the grindstone ; the rapidity with which the grinding 
is effected ; the large earnings of the men ; the ruined 
health and early death which the occupation brings 
upon them; the efforts which have been made to 

F 2 



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diminish the hurtfulness of tbe process t and the resist- 
ance with which these efforts have been met — all merit 
and have received a large measure of attention. Let 
us first notice the process itself, and then the peculiar 
circumstances attending it. 

Some of the needle-pointers work at their own 
homes, while some work at Hie factories ; but the pro- 
cess is the same in either case. The pointing-room, 
generally situated as far away as practicable from the 
other rooms, contains small grindstones, from about 
eight inches to twenty inches in diameter, accord- 
ing to the size of needle to be pointed. They rotate 
vertically, at a height of about two feet from the 
ground, and with a velocity frequently amounting to 
two thousand revolutions per minute. The stone is 
a particular Vint} of grit adapted for the purpose ; but 
sometimes it Hies in pieces, from the centrifugal force 
engendered by the rapid rotation ; and in such cases 
the results are often fearful. The workman 6its on a 
stool, or ' horse ,' a few inches distant from the stone, 
and bends over it during his work. Over his mouth 
he wraps a large handkerchief; and as he can per- 
form his work nearly as well in the dark as in the 
light, he is sometimes only to be seen by the vivid cone 
of sparks emanating from the Bteei while grinding. 
The vivid light reflected on his pale face, coupled with 
the consciousness that we are looking at one who will 
be an old man at thirty, and who is being literally 
"killed by inches" while at work, render the pro- 
cesses conducted in this room such as will not soon be 
forgotten. 

The needle-pointer takes fifty or a hundred needles, 
or rather needle-wires, in his hand at once, and holds 
them in a peculiar manner. He places the fingers 
and palm of one hand diagonally over those of the 
other, and grasps the needles between them, ail the 
needles being parallel. The thumb of the left hand 
comes over the back of the fingers of the right ; and 
the different knuckles and joints are so arranged, that 
every needle can be made to rotate on its own axis, by 
a slight movement of the hand, without anyone needle 
being allowed to roll over the others. He grasps them 
so that the ends of the wires (one end of each) projects 
a small distance beyond the edge of the hand and 
fingers ; and these ends he applies to the grindstone 
in the proper position for grinding them down to a 
point. It will easily be seen, that if the wires were 
neld fixedly, the ends would merely be bevelled off, 
in the manner of a graver, and would not give a sym- 
metrical point; but by causing each wire to rotate 
while actually in contact with the grindstone, the 
pointer works equally on all sides of the wire, and 
brings the point in the axis of the wire. At intervals 
of every tew seconds, he adjusts the needles to a proper 
position, against a stone or plate, and dips their ends 
in a little trough of liquid between him and the grind- 
stone. Each wire sends out its own stream of sparks, 
which ascends diagonally in a direction opposite to 
that at which the workman is placed. So rapid are 
his movements, that he will point seventy or a hundred 
needles, forming one hand-grasp, in half a minute ; 
thus getting through ten thousand in an hour ! 

The circumstance which renders this operation so 
very destructive to health is, that the particles of steel, 
separated from the body of the Wire by the friction of 
the stone, float in the air for a time, and are then in- 
haled by the workman. The entire atmosphere of the 
room is filled with these particles. Benevolent men 
had long sought for means of obviating the sad effects 
resulting from this operation ; and at length the Society 
of Arts offered a premium for the invention of any 
piece of apparatus which should prevent the entrance 
of the steel particles into the mouth of the workmen. 
A period of more than twenty-one years has now 



elapsed since the contrivances of Mr. J. H. Abraham, 
having this object in view, were introduced to public 
notice through the medium of the above-named Society : 
and it is really surprising to find how utterly useless 
have been all the efforts to draw the men into the 
adoption of improved plans. The fortieth volume of 
the Society's 'Transactions' contains details which 
must not be passed over here in silence. 

In the month of August 1821, Mr. Abraham of 
Sheffield sent to the Society a model of a mouth-guard, 
to be used by the needle-pointers and dry-grinders. 
He was not at the time aware that a premium nad been 
offered by the Society on this subject ; but in October 
of the same year he sent a second communication, in 
which, among other details, he stated :— " The Society 
may not perhaps be in the posseBsiou of the information 
that thousands of individuals in this country, besides 
the needle-pointers, who have been regularly employed 
in dry-grinding, have been cut off at the age ot froai 
thirty to forty years." After describing the nature oi 
his apparatus, Mr. Abraham proceeds to remark thai 
the needle-pointers and dry-grinders, " after the 
grinders' asthma begins to afflict them, which gene- 
rally happens to those regularly employed in dry- 
grinding, when they arrive at the age of twenty-five 
or twenty-seven years, linger out a miserable exist- 
ence till they arrive at the age of thirty or thirty-five 
years ; beyond the age of forty years very few dry 
grinders are known to live/' 

The apparatus consists of two parts. The first is a 
screen, so suspended from the ceiling as to shield the 
man from the greater part of the grit and steel-dust 
set in motion by his work. The second is a mouth- 
guard, to arrest tne progress of such particles as might 
reach his lips. This mouth-guard consists of a small 
frame of wood, the upper and lower pieces of which 
are made circular to fit the lips. On this are fixed two 
or three layers of crape or muslin ; and it is studded 
with several small magnets, calculated to arrest a con- 
siderable portion of the deleterious matter before it 
can reach the crape. To the upper part of this wooden 
frame is attached a bent wire, to which crape is fixed 
for the purpose of protecting the nostrils; and the 
whole is fastened by two strings passing ( round the 
head and tying behind. 

Such are the two pieces of apparatus contrived by 
Mr. Abraham for protecting the workman not only 
from the particles of steel, out also from the grit de- 
tached from the grindstone during the process. It 
may now be asked, how far were these contrivances 
efficient? Let the evidence of the needle-manufac- 
turers attest. The volume of the Society's 'Transac- 
tions' before referred to contains several memorials or 
testimonials, among which is one signed by several 
surgeons, to the effect that the apparatus, completely 
succeeded in arresting the particles ; the mouth-guard 
becoming wholly coated with particles, which would 
otherwise have passed into the mouth of the workman. 
Another is a letter from the proprietors of a needle- 
factory in Derbyshire, expressing their anxious wish 
that these humanizing arrangements should be adopted, 
and stating, among other things, that the needle-pointer 
who used them most had " not more dust floating about 
him in a whole day than he used to have in a quarter 
of an hour." The third is a letter from Redditch, 
signed by five needle-manufacturers and two pointers, 
to the effect that the arresting of the steel particles 
was successfully performed by the mouth-piece. A 
similar letter was afterwards signed by nine of the 
manufacturing firms at Redditeh, twelve of the 
pointers (whose state of education may he guessed 
by the fact that ten out of the twelve made their 
mark X), and other inhabitants of the place. 

Might it not Joe supposed that such contrivances 



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would be eagerly caught *t by the men ? Such would i 
seem to be reasonable ; for it is understood thai Mr. 
Abraham bad no other motives than those of kindness 
for promulgating his inventions. Yet has the whole 
become a dead letter. We believe we are correct in 
saying that the needle-pointers as a body, of whom 
there are about a hundred and thirty at Redditch, re- 
fuse to adopt these arrangements, perhaps that their 
wages may not be lowered by rendering the work 
less injurious. Their earnings sometimes amount 
to so large a sum as a guinea a-day; and are at 
all times considerably above the average of artisans' 
wages. The handkerchief which is tied loosely round the 
mouth of the needle-pointer is a poor safeguard. The 
steel and gritty particles enter his lungs in abundance ; 
and he is still, what he has ever been, a short-lived and 
ill-conditioned man. It excites regret to see (as any 
may see, without much difficulty), in the Museum of 
the Society of Arts, the models of Mr. Abraham's in- 
ventions, memorials only of the unwillingness on the 
part of the workman to adopt a plan which is intended 
for his own benefit, which is looked on favourably by 
his employers, which society sanctions by its approval, 
which would give him better health and a longer life, 
and which would raise him in the scale of respectability 
as a man. 

We have dwelt somewhat at length on the process of 
needle-pointing, because it involves matters of more 
than usual interest in connection with the well-being 
of those who are employed in it ; but we may now re- 
sume the thread of detail. 

The reader will bear in mind that the state of our 
embryo needle is simply that of a piece of dull straight 
wire, about three inches long (supposing * 6's ' to be the 
size), and pointed at both ends. The next process is one 
of a series by which two eyes or holes are pierced through 
the wire, near the centre of its length, to form the 
eyes of the two needles which are to be fashioned from 
the piece of wire. A number of very curious opera- 
tions are connected with this process, involving me- 
chanical and manipulative arrangements of great nicety. 
Those who are learned in the qualities of needles — as 
that they will not 'cut in the eye/ and so forth — will 
be prepared to expect that much delicate workman- 
ship is involved in the production of the eyes, and they 
will not be in error in so supposing. Most of the im- 
provements which have from time to time been intro- 
duced in needle-making relate more or less to the pro- 
duction of the eye. In the commoner kinds of needles 
many processes are omitted which are essential to the 
production of the finer qualities ; but it will show the 
whole nature of the operations better for us to take 
the case of those which involve all the various pro- 
cesses. 

After being examined when the pointer has done 
his portion of the work to them (an examination which 
is undergone after every single process throughout the 
manufacture), the wires are taken to the ' stamping- 
shop,' where the first germ of an eye is given to each 
halt of every wire. The stamping-machine consists 
of a heavy block of stone, supporting on its upper 
surface a bed of iron; and on this bed is placed 
the under halt of a die or stamp. Above this is sus- 
pended a hammer, weighing about thirty pounds, 
which has on its lower surface the other half of the die 
or impress. The hammer is governed by a lever 
moved by the foot ; so that it can be brought down 
exactly upon the iron bed. The form of the die or 
stamp may be best explained by stating the work 
which it is to perform. It is to produce the * gutter,' 
or channel, in which the eye of a needle is situated, 
and which is to guide the thread in the process of 
* threading a needle/ 
' Hut besides the two channels or gutters, the stampers 



make a perforation partly through the needle, as a 
means of marking exactly where the eye is to be. The 
device on the two halves of the die is consequently a 
raised one, since it is to produce depressions in the 
wire. The workman, holding in his hand several 
wires, drops one at a time on the bed-iron of the ma- 



chine, adjusts it to the die, brings down the upper die 
upon it by the action of the foot, and allows it to fall 
into a little dish when done. This he does with such 
rapidity that one stamper can stamp four thousand 
wires, equivalent to eight thousand needles, in an hour, 
although he has to adjust each needle separately to the 
die. 

To this process succeeds another, in which the eve 
of tile needle is pierced through. This is effected by 
boys, each of whom works at a small hand-press ; and 
the operation is at once a minute and ingenious one. 
The boy takes up a number of needles or wires, and 
spreads them out like a fan. He lays them flat on a 
small iron bed or slab, holding one end of each wire 
in' his left hand, and bringing the middle of the wire to 
the middle of the press. To the upper arm of the 
press arc affixed two hardened steel points 01 cutters, 
being in size and shape exactly corresponding with the 
* eyes' which they are to form. Both of these points 
are to pass through each wire, very nearly together, 
and at a small distance on either side of the exact cen- 
tre of the wire. The wire being placed beneath the 
points, the press is moved by hand, the points descend, 
and two little bits or 6teel aro cut out of the wire, 
thereby forming the eyes for two needles. As each 
wire becomes thus pierced, the boy shifts the fan-like 
array of wires until another one comes under the 
piercers, and so on throughout. The press has to be 
worked by the right hand for piercing each wire ; and 
the head of the boy is held down pretty closely to his 
work, in order that he may see to* eye 'the needles 
properly. Were not the wires previously prepared by 
the stamper, it would be impossible thus to guide the 
piercers to the proper point ; but this being effected, 
patience, good eye-sight, and a steady hand effect the 



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[January, ie43. 



j 



[a is the lower die, on which the needles, 6. are placed, to Iw pierced 
by the points, r, guided by the api«fatus, d.] 

There are several processes about this stage which 
arc effected by boys; groups of little incipient work- 
men being distributed here and there, each group un- 
der the direction of an older hand. Some have nairy 
caps on, some cloth caps, some aspire to the dignity of 
a workman's paper cap ; here is one with a pinafore, 
there another who thinks he is man enough to wear an 
apron ; some have eyes as sharp as the needles which 
they are piercing, while others look as if they would 
rather be playing at marbles or at 'hop-scotcn,' than 
piercing needles at all : in short, they are true boys, 
and, we doubt not, as fond of fun as any other boys. 
Their earnings are from two shillings per week up- 
wards, according to the importance of the work at 
which they are placed and their skill in executing it. 
In many cases those are the sons or apprentices of 
workmen employed in the factory, who receive the 
earnings of the boys, and arc responsible for the work 
done by them ; in other cases the boys receive the 
wages which they earn; 

» Some of these little labourers take the needles when 
they have been * eyed,' and proceed to ' spit ' them ; that 
is, to pass a wire through the eye of every needle. 
Two pieces of fine wire, perhaps three or four inches 
in length, are prepared, the diameter corresponding ex- 
actly with the size of the needle eye. These two pieces 
of wire are held in the right hand, parallel, and at a 
distance apart equal to the distance between the two 
eyes in each needle-wire. The pierced needles, being 
held in the left hand, are successively threaded upon the 
two pieces of smaller wire, till, by the time the whole 
is filled, the assemblage has something the appearance 
of a fine-toothed comb. A workman then files down 



the bur, or protuberances left on the side of the eye T// 
the stamping. 

It must be borne in mind that throughout all these 
operations the needles are double ; that is, that the 

Siece of wire, three inches in length, which is to pro- 
uce two needles an inch and a half long each, is still 
whole and undivided, the two eyes being nearly close 
together in the centre, and the two points being at the 
ends. Now, however, the separation is to take place. 
The filer, after he has brought down the protuberances 
on each wire, but before he has laid the comb of wires 
out of his hand, bends and works the comb between 
his hands in a neculiar way, until he has broken the 
comb into two halves, each half * spitted * by one of the 
fine wires. The needles have arrived at something 
like their destined shape and size ; for they arc of the 
proper length, and have eyes and points. In the an- 
nexed cut we can trace the wire through the processes 
of change hitherto undergone. 
A D c D e p 



J. 




/ 



i 



[A, the wire for two needle*; B. the same, pointed at one eud ; C 
{Minted ut l>oth ends; I), the stamped impress fur the ryut; K, the eyr* 

Elcrced ; F, the medics lust before separation ; d, ?, f t e nbtrgumruU of 
\ K V.] 

But although we have now little bits of steel, which 
might by courtesy be called needles, they have very 
many processes to undergo before they arc deemed 
finisher!, especially if, in accordance with our previous 
supposition, they are of the finer quality. Tnere are 
very many workshops which we nave yet to glance 
through, the first of which is that of the * soft-straight- 
cner.' The * filer* and his two 'spitters' (who together 
get ready about four thousand needles in an hour) are 
very likely to bend in a slight degree the needles 
under operation; and, indeed, so arc likewise the 
•stampers' and the * eye '-makers. To restore the 
straightness of the wire is the office of the *soft- 
straightener,' who is frequently a female. And here 
we cannot refrain from remarking on the neat and re- 
spectable appearance of the females engaged in the 
needle-manufacture. Their earnings are on an average 
from eight to twelve shillings a-weck (except the 
youngest girls) ; and their appearance and general de- 
meanour are creditable both to themselves and to those 
by whom they are employed. The writer happened to 
be passing through the main street of Redaitch at a 



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time when the work-people were pouring from the 
different needle- factories, on their way home to dinner ; 
and 4n opportunity was thus afforded for observing 
not only toe large number of persons employed in 
this manner, but also the air of respectability which 
generally pervaded them, — in which many of the ope- 
ratives in the ' Great Metropolis' might imitate them 
with advantage. 

The * soft-straightener ' is seated in front of a bench, 
near the front edge of which is placed a small steel 
plate, On this plate the needles are placed, parallel or 
nearly so : the straightener employed is a steel bar, 
from a foot to half a yard long, an inch or two in 
wid;h, and perhaps a quarter of an inch thick. It is 
turned upwards a little at the two ends, so as to be 
somewhat convex at the lower surface ; and is held by 
boili hands at the two ends. By a curious management 




of this instrument, the soft-straighten er separates each 
individual needle from the group of which it forms a 
part, and rolls it over two or three times with the lower 
surface of the instrument, pressing it against the iron- 
plate, and thus working out any curvatures or irregu- 
larities which may have been given to it by the pre- 
vious operations. It would seem much more simple to 
place the needles, one by one, on the iron plate, and 
roll them with the bar ot metal till straightened : but 
a great expenditure of time would result from such a 
plan. As it is, the heap of needles is placed parallel 
on the iron plate, and by a slight touch each one is 
separated from its fellows, straightened, and passed 
into a tray beneath. So quickly is this done, that three 
thousand needles can be thus straightened in an hour 
by one person. 

"The needles are by this time pointed, eyed, and 
straightened ; but before they can be brought to that 
beautifully finished state with which we are all fami- 
liar, it is necessary that tbey should be 'hardened' and 
• tempered * by a peculiar application of heat. After 
being examined, to see that the preceding processes 
are fitly performed, the needles are taken to a shop 
provided with ovens or furnaces. They are laid down 
on a bench, and by means of two trowel-like instru- 
ments, spread in regular thick layers on narrow plates 



or trays of iron. In this way they are placed on a 
shelf or grating in a heated furnace. Wnen the pro- 
per degree of heating has been effected, the door is 
opened, and the needles are shifted from the iron tray 
into a sort of colander or perforated vessel immersed 
in cold water or oil. When they are quite cooled, the 
hardening is completed ; and if it lias been effected in 
water, the needles are simply dried ; but if in oil, they 
are well washed in an alkaline liquor to free them from 
the oil. Then ensues the tempering processes. The 
needles are placed on an iron plate, heated from 
beneath, and moved about with two little trowels until 
every needle has been gradually brought to a certain 
desired temperature. 

We now leave the furnace-room and proceed to one 
of the upper rooms of the factory, where a multitude 
of minor operations arc conducted incident to the 
finishing of the needles. Notwithstanding the ' soft- 
straightening ' which the needles underwent after they 
were pointed and eyed, they have become slightly dis- 
torted in shape by the action of the heat in the pro- 
cesses just described, and to rectify this they undergo 
the operation of 4 hammer-straightening.' A number 
of females are seen seated at a long bench, each with 
a tiny hammer, giving a number ofTight blows to the 
needles ; the needles being placed on a small steel block 
with a very smooth upper surface. This is rather a 
tedious part of the manufacture, the workwoman not 
being able to straighten more than five hundred 
needles in an hour, a degree of quickness much less 
than that which we have had hitherto to notice. 

We leave the tinkling hammers and follow the 
needles to the only part of the manufacture which in- 
volves apparatus otner than of a very small size. This 
is the • scouring ' process. In one of the lower rooms 
of the factory are twelve machines, looking like man- 
gles, or perhaps more correctly, like marble polishing- 
machincs, — a square slab or rubber working to and fro 
on a long bed, stone, or bench. The object of this pro- 
cess is to rub the needles one against another for a 
very long period, till the surfaces of all have become 
perfectly smooth, clean, and true. This is effected in 
a curious manner. A strip of very thick canvas is laid 
out open on a bench, and on this a large heap of 
needles, amounting to perhaps twenty or thirty thou- 
sand, is laid, all the needles being parallel one with 
another, and with the length of the cloth. The needles 
are then slightly coated with a mixture of emery and 
oil, and tied up tightly in the canvas, the whole form- 
ing a compact roll about two feet long and two inches 
in thickness. Twenty-four rolls of needles being thus 
prepared, comprising probably six hundred thousand 
needles in all, they are placed under the rubbers of the 
scouring-machines, two rolls to each machine. A 
steam-engine (most of the Redditch factories, we be- 
lieve, have watcr-weeels) then gives to the rubbers, by 
connected mechanism, a reciprocating or backward 
and forward motion, pressing heavily on the rolls of 
needles, and causing all the needles of each bundle to 
roll one over another. By this action an intense degree 
of friction is exerted among the needles, whereby each 
one is rubbed smooth by those which surround it. For 
eight hours uninterruptedly this rubbing or scouring 
is carried on ; after which the needles are taken out, 
washed in suds, placed in new pieces of canvas, 
touched with a new portion of emery and oil, and sub- 
jected to another eight-hours' friction. Again and 
again is this repeated, insomuch that for the very 
finest needles the process is performed five or six- 
times over, each time during eight hours' continuance. 
This is one of the points in which the difference is 
shown between various qualities of needles, the length 
of the scouring being correspondent with the excel- 
lence of the production. The pieces of canvas become 



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[January, 1843. 



coated within with a mixture of emery, oil, and steel ; 
but the quantity of steel rubbed off in this process is 
not so much as might at first be supposed. 

Again we accompany the needles to another part of 
the factory, being that which is technically termed the 
' bright-shop,' in which many processes are carried on 
in reference to the finishing of the needles. The 
needles are examined after being scoured, and are 
placed in a small tin tray, where, by shaking and 
vibrating in a curious manner, they are all brought 
into parallel arrangement. From thence they are 
removed into flat paper-trays, in long rows or heaps, 
and passed on to the ' header,' generally a little girl, 
whose office is to turn all the heads one way and all 
the points the other. This is one among the many 
simple but curious processes involved in this very 
curious manufacture, which surprise us by the rapidity 
and neatness of execution. The girl sits with her face 
towards the window, and has the needles ranged in a 
row or layer before her, the needles being parallel with 
the window. 8he draws out laterally to the right 
those which have their eyes on the right hand, into one 
heap ; and to the left those which have their eyes in 
that direction, in another. 

About this time too the needles are examined one 
by one, to remove those which have been broken or 
injured in the long process of scouring; for it some- 
times happens that as many as eight or ten thousand, 
out of fifty thousand»*are spoiled during this operation. 
Most ladies are conversant with the merits of ' drilled- 
eyed needles,' warranted " not to cut the thread." 
These are produced by a modem improvement, where- 
by the eye, produced by the stamping and piercing 
processes before described, is drilled with a very fine 
instrument, by which its margin becomes as perfectly 
smooth and brilliant as any other part of the needle. 
To effect this the needle is first * blued,' that is, the 
head is heated so as to give it the proper temper for 
working. Then the eye is • counter-sunk/ which con- 
sists in Devilling off the eye by means of a kind of tri- 
angular drill, so that there may be no sharp edge be- 
tween the eye itself and the cylindrical shaft of the 
needle. Next comes the drilling. Seated at a long 
bench are a number of men and boys, with small drills 
working horizontally with great rapidity. The work- 
man takes up a few needles between the finder and 
thumb of his left hand, spreads them out like a tan with 
the ey?s uppermost, brings them one at a time opposite 
the point of the drill, governs the handle or lever of the 
drill with his right hand, and drills the eye, which is 
equivalent to making it circular, even, smooth, and 
polished. He shifts the thumb and finger round, so as 
to bring all the needles in succession under the action 
of the drill ; and he thuB gets through his work with 
much rapidity. The preparation of the drills, which 
are small wires of polished steel three or four inches 
long, is a matter of very great nicety, and on it de- 
pends much of that beauty of production which con- 
stitutes the pride of a modern needle-manufacturer. 

We next pass into a large room, where a multitude 
of little wheels are revolving with great rapidity, some 
intended for what is termed « grinding' trie needles, 
and some for polishing. The men are seated on low 
stools, each in front of a revolving wheel, which is at a 
height of perhaps two feet from tne ground. All the 
wheels arc connected by straps and bands with a 
steam-engine in the lower part of the factory. A con- 
stant humming noise is heard in the room, arising from 
the great rapidity of revolution among a number of 
wheels ; and it is not difficult for the ear to detect a 
difference of tone or pitch among the associated sounds, 
due to differences in the rate of movement. The 
grinding- wheels are very small, not above five or six 
inches in diameter ; they are made of gritstone, and 



are attached to a horizontal axis. The grinding hers 
alluded to is not such as might be supposed, relating 
to the points of the needles, but has reference simply to 
the heads, which have not yet had a rounded form 
given to them. The workman takes up a layer or row 
of needles between the fingers and thumbs of the two 
hands, and applies the heads to the stones in such a 
manner as to grind down any small asperities Tm the 
surface. As the small grindstones are revolving three 
thousand times in a minute, it is plain that the steel 
may soon be sufficiently worn away by a slight contact 
witn the periphery of tne stone. 

The grinders and the polishers sit near together, so 
that the latter take up the series of operations as soon 
as the former have finished. The uolisning-wheels con- 
sist of wood coated with buff leather, whose surface is 
slightly touched with polishing paste. Against these 
wheels the polishers hold the needles, applying every 

Eart of the cylindrical surface in succession; first 
olding them by the pointed end, and then by the eye 
end. About a thousand in an hour can thus be polished 
by each man; and when they leave his hands the 
needles arc finished. A magnified representation of 
the eye in different states will assist these details. 



1 



1 




la, a needle with the eye end heed rough ; 6, the head filed end formed . 
c, the eye countersunk ; d, drilled and finished] 

We have still to see the needles papered. In one of 
the rooms a number of females are cutting the papers, 
separating the needles into groups of twenty-five each, 
and folding them in the neat oblong form so well 
known to all the users of a * paper of needles.' Sc 
expert does practice render the workwoman, that each 
one can count and paper three thousand needles in an 
hour. The papered needles then pass to another room, 
where boys paste on the smart-looking labels which 
deck every paper of needles. Even here there are 
sundry little contrivances for expediting the process, 
which would scarcely be looked for by common ob- 
servers. When the papers have been dried on an iron 
frame in a warm room, they are packed into bundles 
of twenty papers each ; which are further packed in 
square parcels containing ten, twenty, or fifty thousand 
needles, enclosed, if for exportation, in soldered tin 
cases. As a means of judging the bulk of the needles, 
we may state that ten thousand '6V form a packet 
about six inches long, three and a half wide, and under 
two in thickness. 

Thus have we followed the manufacture to its close. 
None but the finest needles undergo the whole of the 
processes enumerated ; but we have wished to give 
them as a means of estimating the complexity of the 
manufacture of an article apparently so humble. The 
arrangements of the factory, as to apparatus, &c., are 
adapted to the production or a hundred millions of fine 
needles per annum. As to the whole quantity made in 
the Redditch factories and in the houses of the work- 
men in the vicinity, it has been estimated at so high a 
number as seventy millions per week! These are 
startling results, and show that in considering the seats 
of manufacture in England, we must not forget to 
include the remarkable Worcestershire village of 
Kedditch. 



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[A Urahmen expounding the Veda] 



THE CASTES AND TRIBES OF INDIA. 
No. II. 

The Hindu account of the institution of castes has al- 
ready been ^iven (No. 692), and it will be recollected 
that only four pure castes arc recognised, the Brahmen 
or priests, the Cshatriyas, who are soldiers, the Vaisyas 
as husbandmen, and the Sudras as servants or labourers. 
Heeren supposed that the first three were a foreign 
race, who subdued the aborigines of the country, and 
reduced them to an inferior caste. These four classes 
constitute the elements of every society in an early 
period of civilization. In England during the Anglo- 
Saxon period the people would be found divided into 
the same number of classes, but then the distinction 
' was not hereditary. Plato ascribed the origin of poli- 
tical association and laws to the division of labour. 
From this cause, he says, men are obliged to associate, 
one man affording one accommodation, another ano- 
ther, and all exchanging? the accommodations which 
each can provide, for the different accommodations 
provided by the rest. Herodotus and Strabo state that 
the Cokhians and Iberians were divided into four 
classes whose rank and office were hereditary and un- 
changeable. The Levites were an hereditary priest- 
hood. Mr. Mill, in his ' History of British India,' 
proves that amongst the Peruvians, the Medes, the 

no. 696. 



Athenians, and other people in very early periods of 
history, the distinction of castes or classes existed. The 
institution of castes marks a more advanced stage of 
society than that which is constituted of families only ; 
and it is a step not yet reached by the Arabs of the 
desert, or the roaming Tartars of the ereat plains of 
Asia. We may here remark that we have borrowed 
the word * caste • from the Portuguese word « casta,* 
which signifies a lineage or race. 

Professor Wilson says, that every thing in the Hindu 
Institutes indicates that the Brahmens originated not 
from political but religious principles. " Apparently," 
he says, the system " was contrived by a religious con- 
federation, as the scheme best adapted to introduce 
order amongst semi-civilized tribes, and with no view 
to their own advantage or aggrandizement, or enjoy- 
ment of indolent ease. The authority of influence, of 
advice, the Brahmens necessarily retained, and they 
were the only competent expounders of the laws which 
they promulgated. They had no other means of pro- 
tection than the character of sanctity with which they 
invested themselves, and which was equally necessary 
to insure attention to their instructions. They la- 
boured to deserve the opinion of sanctity by imposing 
burdensome duties on themselves of a domestic and 
religious character." 

In the very rudest constitution of society the priest is 



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to be found. In addition to the influence which he 
professes to have with pood and evil spirits, he some- 
times practises the medical art, and in various ways 
sustains his importance by superior cunning, working 
upon the superstition, ignorance, and tears of man in 
his most abject condition. Nowhere has the influence 
of a priesthood been so paramount and extensive as in 
Hindostan. It is remarkable that the Brahmens 
never invested themselves with royal authority; hut 
Professor Wilson observes that this probably proceeded 
from motives of prudence and policy, ai well as from 
a feeling of true contemplative devotion, by which es- 
pecially they retained their hold on the people. But 
then, as Mr. Mill shows, their power was really greater 
than that of the sovereign. The laws of Menu direct 
that V To oue learned Brahmen, distinguished amon^ 
the rest, let the king impart his momentous counsel. * 
As the sole interpreter of the laws, they in reality pos- 
sessed the judicial powers of government as well as 
those of a legislative character. The code was already 
perfect and complete, as coming from the Divine Be- 
ing, and in no case could it be interpreted except in 
the sense the Brahmens were pleased to impose. The 
king was little more than a servant of the Brahmens. 
In order to have an adequate idea of the superiority of 
the ancient Brahmen, we must refer to tne laws of 
Menu, which were probably promulgated three thou- 
sand years ago. Wnile the Sudra, the lowest of the 
four castes, are represented as proceeding from the foot 
of the Creator, the Brahmen came forth from his 
mouth. He is declared to be the lord of all the classes, 
and from his high birll) alone is an object of veneration 
even to deities, and it is through him and at his inter- 
cession that blessings arc bestowed upon mankind. 
" When a Brahmen springs to light, he is born above 
the world, the chief of all creatures." The first duty 
of civil magistrates is to honour the Brahmens. " What- 
ever exists in the universe is all in effect, though not 
in form, the wealth of the Brahmen, since the Brahmen 
is entitled to it all by his primogeniture and eminence 
of birth." The sacred books aie exclusively his; and 
while the other classes are scarcely permitted to read 
them, be is appointed their sole expounder. For offer- 
ing to give instruction to Brahmens, hot oil must be 
poured into the offender's mouth and ears, and for con- 
tumelious language the punishment is almost as severe. 
Mysterious powers were assigned to them. " A priest 
who well knows the law needs not complain to the 
king of any grievous injury, since, even by his own 
power, he may chastise those who injure him : his own 
power is mightier than the royal power." Again, it is 
said : " Let not the king provoke Brahmens to anger, 
for they, once enraged, could immediately destroy him ;" 
and it is asked, " What man, desirous of life, would 
injure those by the aid of whom worlds and gods per- 
petually subsist, those who are rich in the knowledge of 
the Veda?" Extraordinary respect must be paid to 
the most humble Brahmen: — "A Brahmen, whether 
learned or ignorant, is a powerful divinity." Thus, 
though Brahmens employ themselves in all sorts of 
mean occupations, they must invariably be honoured, 
for they are something transcendently divine." The 
meanest Brahmen would be polluted by eating with 
the king, and death itself would be preferred to the 
degradation of allowing his daughter to be married to 
him. The worst crimes scarcely subjected them to 
punishment, though in other classes they were visited 
with cruel severity. " Neither shall the king," says 
one of the admirers of Menu, •• slay a Brahmen, though 
convicted of all possible crimes." To confer gifts 
upon Brahmens was an essential religious duty. These 
gifts were a necessary part of expiation and sacrifice. 
The noviciates to tne priestly office derived their 
subsistence from begging. Possessing all the realities 



of supreme power in the state, the Brahmens were, if 

1>ossiblc, to a still greater extent the masters of private 
ife. The Hindu ritual, as Mr. Mill remai ks, extended 
to almost every hour of the day, and every function of 
nature and society; and consequently, those who were 
the sole judges and directors of its complicated and 
endless duties could not but be possessed of an enor- 
mous influence on the mental character of the people. 
To the above extracts from authentic texts we must 
append the following important note from Professor 
Wilson's new edition of Mill's * History of British 
India,' in which he observes that these texts are never- 
theless calculated to give * wrong impressions.' He 
says: — " The Brahmens are not priests in the ordinary 
acceptation of the term, nor have they, as Brahmens 
only, such influence in society as is here ascribed to 
them. The Brahmens, in the early stages of Hindu 
society, were an order of men who followed a course 
of religious study and practice during the first half of 
their lives, and spent the other in a condition of self- 
denial and mendicity. They conducted for themselves, 
and others of the two next castes, sacrifices, and occa- 
sionally great public ceremonials; but they never, like 
the priests of other Pagan nations, or those of the Jews, 
conducted public worship, worship for individuals 
indiscriminately, worship in temples, or offerings to 
idols. * * * The whole tenor of the rules for the con- 
duct of a Brahmen is to exclude him from everything 
like worldly enjoyment, from riches, and from tempo- 
ral power. Neither did the Brahmens, like the priests 
of the Egyptians, keep to themselves a monopoly of 
spiritual knowledge. The Brahmen alone, it is true, 
is to teach the Vedas ; but the two next orders are 
equally to study them, and were, therefore, equally 
well acquainted with the law and the religion. Even 
the Sudra was, under some circumstances, permitted 
to read and teach. In modern times the Brahmens, 
collectively, have lost all claim to the characters of a 
priesthood. They form a nation, following all kinds 
of secular avocations. And when they are met with 
in a religious capacity, it is not as Branmens merely, 
but as being the ministers of temples, or the family 
'gurus,' or priests of the lower classes of the people, 
offices by no means restricted, though not unfrequently 
extended to the Brahmenical caste, and, agreeably to 
the primitive system, virtually destructive of Brahmen- 
hooa." 

RESINOUS PRODUCTS OF THE PINE AND 
FIR. 

There is a singular variety in the resinous products 
of the pine and fir, according to the species from which 
they arc obtained, and the mode ot obtaining them. 
Some result from a simple incision in the trunk of the 
living tree ; some require a process of heat to obtain 
them ; some are solid, some liquid. The best mode of 
viewing the matter will be perhaps to take in suc- 
cession the species which yield the best-known resinous 
products. 

The best turpentine, viz., that of Chio or Cyprus, 
and which gives name to all the other kinds, is not the 
growth oi* the pine or fir genus; but all the other 
kinds, such as Venice turpentine, Strasburg turpen- 
tine, and the common turpentine, are produced from 
this genus. All turpentines are produced by making 
incisions in the living tree, from which a kind of juice 
flows out. The Strasburg turpentine is a kind which 
is produced from the silver fir ; and Mr. Loudon's ac- 
count of the mode adopted by the Italian peasants in 
collecting it will well illustrate the general way of 
procuring turpentine. 

At about the month of August in every year the 
peasants proceed towards the fir-forests on the Alps. 



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They carry in their hands sharp-pointed pouches called 1 
* cornets,' and tin vessels suspended from girdles round 
the waist. Thus accoutred, they climb to the summits 
of the loftiest fir-trees ; their shoes being armed with 
cram ping-irons, like spurs, which enter into the bark 
of the tree, and thus support the wearer. The resi- 
nous fluid is contained in small tumours or blisters, 
under the epidermis of the bark; and the peasant, 
clinging to the trunk of the tree with his knees and 
one arm, presses the sharp extremity of his cornet 
against the little tumours. An incision being thus 
made, the comet is soon filled with the clear turpen- 
tine which flows from the blister. The man then 
empties the treasure into the tin bottle slung to his 
waist ; and proceeds to another tumour in a similar 
manner. When the bottle is full, the turpentine is 
strained into a large leather or goatskin bottle. This 
straining is to free the turpentine from the leaves, or 
moss, and bits of bark which may have fallen into the 
bottle ; and this is the only preparation that is given 
to this kind of turpentine, which is kept in the skin or 
leathern bottles for sale. Good Strasburg turpentine 
ought to be clear, free from impurities, transparent, 
and of the consistence of syrup, with a strong resinous 
smell and rather a bitter taste. It is employed, as 
well as the essential oil of turpentine distilled from 
it, both in medicine and in the arts. The essentia] oil 
is distilled with water from the turpentine, and there 
is left remaining a solid residue which constitutes black 
resin. 

The larch, which forms a particular kind of the 
coniferae, is the tree which yields the ' Venice turpen- 
tine' sold in the shops. Unlike the Strasburg tur- 
pentine, this product is obtained from incisions in the 
trees themselves, instead of from tumours or excres- 
cences on the upper branches. When the sap of a 
vigorous larch begins to be in motion in the spring, 
drops of turpentine are often seen exuding from the 
bark ; and if the trunk were split, it would in such 
case be found to contain several deposits of liquid 
resin, at eight or ten inches depth within the bark. It 
is in the mountain-valleys between France and Savoy 
that this kind of turpentine is principally collected. 
The peasants of the valley of St. Martin, in the Pays 
de Vaud, use augers nearly an inch in diameter, with 
which they pierce the full-grown larches in different 
places, beginning at a height of three or four feet 
from the ground, and mounting gradually to ten or 
twelve feet. They choose, generally, the south side of 
the tree, and, where practicable, the knots formed by 
branches which have been broken or cut off, and 
through which the turpentine easily exudes. The 
holes are always made in a slanting direction, in order 
that the turpentine may flow out of them more readily ; 
and care is always taken not to penetrate to the centre 
of the tree. To the holes thus bored are fixed gutters 
made of larch wood, an inch or two in width, and 
about half a yard long. One of the ends of each gut- 
ter terminates in a peg, through the centre of which 
a hole is bored, half an inch in diameter. This 
end of the gutter is forced into the hole made in the 
tree, and the other end is led into a small bucket or 
trough, which receives the turpentine. A very pic- 
turesque appearance is presented in a larch forest, in 
fine spring weather, by the vast number of little 
buckets at the foot of the trees, each attached to a 
tree by a slender tube or gutter, through which the 
clear limpid turpentine, glittering in the sun, trickles 
down into the Ducket ; while every morning and 
evening the peasants hasten from tree to tree, examin- 
ing their buckets, taking away or emptying those that 
are full, and replacing them with empty ones. This 
scene continues from May to September, during which 
a. full-grown larch will yield about seven or eight 



pounds of turpentine, which requires no other prepara- 
tion to render it fit for sale than straining it through 
a coarse hair-cloth to free it from impurities. It it 
happens that turpentine does not flow from a hole, 
the hole is stopped with a peg, and not re-opened for 
two or three weeks; after which the turpentine is 
found to have collected in considerable quantity. The 
Venice turpentine thus obtained is clear, transparent, of 
the consistence of a thick syrup, with a bitter taste and 
a strong disagreeable smell. It is employed in making 
varnishes, in veterinary surgery, and in various de- 
partments of medicine. 

The common turpentine, yielded by the Carolina 
pine, is procured in a way somewhat different from 
either of the above. In the month of January or 
February cavities are made in the trees, at a few inches 
from the ground ; these are incisions or notches, gene- 
rally of a sufficient size to hold about three pints of 
sap, but proportioned to the size of the tree. When 
these cavities, which in America are called * boxes,' 
are made, the ground is raked, or cleared from leaves 
or herbage. The * boxes ' are intended to receive the 
turpentine or sap of the tree, which generally begins 
to flow about the month of March, and becomes very 
abundant as the \yeather gets warmer. In order to 
conduct the sap into the * boxes,' a notch is made in 
the tree in the month of March, with two oblique gut- 
ters to conduct the flowing sap. In about a fortnight 
the box becomes full, and a wooden shovel is used to 
transfer its contents to a pail, by means of which it is 
conveyed to a large cask placed at a convenient distance. 
The edges of the wound are chipped every week ; and 
each box becomes filled in about three weeks. Long 
continued rains check the flow of the sap, and even 
cause the wounds to close ; and for this reason very 
little turpentine is procured in cold damp seasons. 
The turpentine which solidifies around the edges of 
the incision is sold as an inferior kind, and a mixture 
of the two kinds, known as Boston turpentine, is used 
in the soap manufacture. 

Burgundy pitch constitutes another variety of the 
sap of the coniferae. This is obtained from the spruce 
fir. The Burgundy pitch of the shops is the sap of the 
spruce fir, clarified by boiling in water : hence its pro- 
duction embraces the collecting and the clarifying. In 
the early part of spring a vertical strip of bark, three 
feet high by an inch or two in width, is cut from the south 
side of eacn tree, as deep as, but without wounding, the 
soft wood, since it is oetween this soft wood and the 
bark that the sap flows. The lower part of the in- 
cision is at about two feet from the ground, and is cut 
inward so as to form a kind of cell or recess. As soon 
as the sap is in motion, the sides of this groove begin 
to be slowly filled with it ; and when filled, the con- 
tents are scraped out with a hook-bladed knife. The 
resin (for it may more properly be called so than pitch 
or turpentine) is put into a conical basket or scuttle 
made of the bark, and kept till wanted for manufac- 
turing. 

In order to bring this resinous sap into the commer- 
cial form of Burgundy pitch, the peasants in the south 
of France prepare large cauldrons, into which a little 
water is poured. The resin is gradually added to the 
water, till the cauldron is four-fifths filled. A gentle 
fire is then lighted below, which is gradually aug- 
mented till the water boils, and the resin is all melted. 
The contents of the cauldron are next poured into a 
bag made of coarse linen, which has been previously 
wetted, and subjected to slight pressure. The resin 
flows pure and clear into small casks made of fir-wood ; 
and in this state it is the yellow Burgundy pitch sold 
in our shops. In general, one hundred pounds of resin, 
as collected froin the tree, yield fifty pounds of Bur- 
gundy pitch. Trees grown in fertile soils are said to 

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yield a greater proportion of reain than those grown 
in poor soils ; and the pitch is of better quality when 
the resin has been collected in a hot dry summer, than 
in a cold and humid one. A strong and vigorous 
spruce fir will yield, every second year, from forty to 
fifty pounds of congealed resin ; and this may be col- 
lected for twenty or thirty years, if no value oe set on 
the tree except for its resin ; else it must be cut down 
sooner, for it is found that the wood of a tree be- 
comes much deteriorated after the sap has been drawn 
from it. 

Thus it will be seen that all these resinous products 
are obtained by making incisions in the living tree. 
The common resin of the shops, however, is not ex- 
actly a natural exudation, for it is the solid residue ob- 
tained by distilling common turpentine. Turpentine 
consists, in fact, of two substances — an essential oil 
and resin ; and the process which yields the essential 
oil at the same time yields the resin. When the tur- 
pentine is distilled, the oil comes over, and the resin is 
left behind : if the distillation is continued to dryness, 
the residue is ' black resin ;' but when water is mixed 
with the turpentine while vet fluid, and incorporated 
with it by agitation, the solid residue of the distillation 
is *yellow resin/ 

Besides the lesinous products obtained from the 
living tree, there are others of a peculiar kind obtained 
from it after it is cut down. These are tar, pitch, and 
lampblack. All the tar of the southern states of Ame- 
rica is made from the dead wood of the Carolina pine ; 
consisting of the trees which have fallen from natural 
decay, or from hurricanes, or fires, of the summits of 
those which arc felled for timber, and of limbs broken 
off by the ice that sometimes overloads the trees. 
When a pine tree is dead, the sap-wood decays, but 
the heart-wood becomes surcharged with resinous 
juice, which is productive of tar at any period for many 
years after the vitality of the tree has ceased. 

The mode of preparing tar from this tree in America 
is as follows :— a kiln is formed in a part of the forest 
abounding in dead wood. The wood is collected, 
stripped of the sap-wood, and cut into billets two or 
three feet in length and about three inches thick, a 
task which is rendered tedious and difficult by the nu- 
merous knots with which the wood abounds. The 
next step is to prepare a place for piling the billets, 
and for this purpose a circular mound is raised, 
slightly declining from the circumference to the centre, 
and surrounded by a shallow ditch. The diameter of 
the pile is proportioned to the quantity of wood which 
it is to receive, and in the middle is a hole, with a con- 
duit leading to the ditch, in which is formed a recep- 
tacle for the tar as it flows out. Upon the surface of 
the mound, after it has been beaten hard and coated 
with clay, the wood is laid radially round in a circle. 
The pile, when finished, may be compared to a trun- 
cated cone, ten or twelve feet high, and from twenty 
to thirty in diameter. The pile is strewed over with 
pine leaves, covered with earth, and held together at 
the sides by a slight band. A fire is then kindled, not 
at the bottom of the pile, for the whole mass would 
soon be rapidly ignited, and the tar would be con- 
sumed instead of distilled — but at the top, whence the 
fire penetrates slowly downwards towards the bottom 
with a slow and gradual combustion. It is to retard 
the rapidity of combustion that the covering of earth 
is laid on the pile. As the wood consumes, the tar 
flows from it, and by the end of eight or nine days a 
hundred barrels of tar may have flowed into the ditch, 
from which it is emptied into pine casks containing 
thirty gallons each. 

In Scotland tar is sometimes extracted from the 
roots of the Scotch pine, in a rude manner, for local 
purposes. The country-people having hewn the wood 



into billets, put them into a pit du$ in the earth. 
When the billets are ignited, a black thick matter runs 
from thern, which falls to the bottom of the pit, and 
constitutes tar. The top of the pit is covered with 
tiles, to keep in the heat, and there is at the bottom a 
little trough out of which the tar runs like oil. 

It is, however, from Sweden and Russia that the 
main supply of tar is obtained. The species of pine 
which yields tar in the greatest abundance is there 
plentiful. Mr. M'Culloch states that more than a 
hundred thousand barrels of tar were imported from 
Russia and Sweden in 1831. The Swedish process of 
tar-making has been described, and illustrated by a 
wood-cut, in our No. 247. 

Pitch bears nearly the same relation to tar that resin 
does to turpentine : it is the solid residue obtained by 
evaporating or distilling tar, and is obtained in various 
ways, according to the nature of the pine or fir whence 
it is procured. 

Lampblack is the toot of burned tar. In France they 
have lampblack-furnaces, in which a chimney carries 
off the smoke from a fireplace into a chamber which 
has an opening in the roof. Over the opening is 
placed a flannel bag, supported by rods of wood, in 
the form of a pyramid, and composed of four pieces or 
coarse flannel sewed together. The best lampblack is 
made by burning straw through which tar has been 
strained. The straw and tarry refuse are put into the 
stove, and kindled. The smoke passes from the stove 
through the chimney into the chamber, where it de- 
posits its soot on the walls and on the flannel bag ; the 
soot is detached by striking the outside smartly with a 
stick. The flannel pyramid sets as a filter to the 
lighter part of the smoke, retaining the soot, and per- 
mitting the heated air to escape into the atmosphere. 
The door of the chamber is then opened, and the 
lampblack, being swept out, is packed in small barrels 
made of the wood of the spruce fir, for sale. Lamp- 
black seems to have acquired its name from a mode 
of producing it sometimes adopted in France. Black 
resin is, in such cases, burned in a kind of lamp, having 
a tin tube attached by way of chimney ; the end of the 
tube is fixed in a close box, having an opening in the 
top surmounted by a flannel cone. 

It will thus be seen that— disregarding the common 
commercial names applied to the substances — the re- 
sinous products of the pine and fir may be classed as 
of five kinds : viz., the turpentine* or juice of the living 
tree ; the reein, or solid residue obtained from the tur- 
pentine ; the tor, or juice of the dead tree ; the pitchy 
or residue of the tar ; and the lampblack, or soot ob- 
tained by burning any of these. 



A Spanish Diligence. — The staff consist! of a mayoral, or con- 
ductor ; of a zagal, or aid, who lit together on a not very elevated 
seat; of a postboy, and a ebirro, which last sits behind. In 
summer these all wear the genuine Andalusian costume ; but at 
the present moment, covered as they are with sheepskins, they 
look exactly like so many Robinson Crusoes, The team consists 
of thirteen make, all bearing noma de guerre, which they will 
retain to their death : they are all close shaved ; and the inex- 
orable scissors of the gitano, which pass all over their bodies 
twice a year, have left untouched only the end of the tail, at the 
root of which are left two tufts of hair, looking exactly like 
mustaches growing at the wrong end. This practice of shaving 
the mules must tend certainly to their comfort during the 
intense heat of summer, but in the cold and wet months of De- 
cember, January, and February, it is far otherwise. The moles 
are harnessed two and two, save the leader, on which the postboy 
sits : the only reins are attached to the wheelers ; and the mules, 
ten in number, between the wheelers and the leader, are as inde- 
pendent as a tribe of Bedouins : habit only keeps them in their 
place. — Dembowtkti Two Yean im Spam and ftrtugal; from the 
Foreign Quarterly Review. 



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[Nonsuch Tlonse.— From Speed's 'Theatre of Great Britain.'] 



PROGRESSES OF QUEEN ELIZABETH. 

Jif the years 1559, 1560, and 1561, the Queen's Pro- 
gresses were not marked by any peculiar splendour. 
In 1559 she viBited Kent and Surrey. In June and 
July she was at Greenwich, where, on the 1st of July, 
the citizens of London entertained her with a •* muster," 
to her " great satisfaction :" fourteen hundred men at 
arms marched out of London, " in coats of velvet, and 
chains of gold, with guns, morris pikes, halberds, and 
fla^s/' The citizens do not appear to have been pre- 
cipitate in their movements. The first day they pro- 
ceeded to the " Duke of Suffolk's park in Southwark ; 
where they all mustered before the Lord Mayor, and 
lay abroad in St. George's Fields all night. 1 he next 
morning they removed towards Greenwich, to the court 
there, and thence to Greenwich Park." Here they 
were reviewed by the Queen and some of her attendant 
nobles; and were drawn up in battle array against 
each other, giving " three onsets in every battle. In 
the record of the •' charge for the dinners " are some cu- 
rious items : 6*. lOrf. are paid for three quarters and two 
necks of mutton to bake venison-wise. (Were the citi- 
zens to be thus deceived ?) ; 1** for a pint of rose-water 
(an indication of their refined luxury, though it was 
certainly not used for the fingers); 5*. for twenty 
pounds of cherries (a large price, but the growth had 
not been long introduced) ; and 1*. Id. for water to the 
water-bearer (a striking proof of the defective arrange- 
ments for domestic convenience, when a palace like 



Greenwich depended for its water upon water-bearers, 
even though, as is probable, the supply was from some 
favourite spring for drinking purposes). Fourteen 
capons cost 24s. &/. and fifty eggs 3*. Ccf., while nine 
geese were only 10*. 2d. t and six gallons and a quart of 
Gascon wine, 8*. 4d. 

These military shows and exercises were greatly 
encouraged by the Queen, it being her policy, as well 
as her pleasure, " to accustom her nobles and subjects ' 
to arms." A banqueting-house made with " fir-poles, 
and decked with birch branches, and all manner of 
flowers, both of the field and garden, as roses, gilli- 
flowers, lavender, marygolds, ana all manner of strew- 
ing herbs and rushes," was erected in the park, and on 
the 10th July there was exhibited running with spears, 
after which was " a "mask, then a great banquet, and 
then followed great casting of fire, and shooting of 
guns till twelve o'clock at night." 

This same year she visited Cobham Hall, the scat of 
Lord Cobham, now that of the Earl of Darnley. She 
next proceeded to Eltham, " one of the ancient houses 
of the kings ;" and thence to " another of her houses," 
Nonsuch, of which the Earl of Arundel was then 
keeper, and who received her on Sunday, August 5, 
with banquets, a mask, and " the warlike sounds of 
drums and flutes, and all sorts of music, till midnight ;" 
on Monday night was a " play of the children of Paul's, 
with their master Sebastian," and at the conclusion of 
the entertainment *' the Earl presented her Majesty 
with a cupboard of plate." 



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Nonsuch had been built by Henry VIII. near Cheam 
in Surrey, and was described by both English and 
foreign writers as a building upon which "one might 
imagine everything that architecture can perform to 
have been employed." Henry had been fond of build- 
ing, and displayed much magnificence in the construc- 
tion, reparation, or completion of his palaces ; but, of 
at least ten, Hampton Court is the only one remain- 
ing in anything like its original state. Nonsuch has 
totally disappeared, but several representations have 
survived, from which, though more fanciful than cor- 
rect in the requisites of drawing, proportion, and per- 
spective, it3 elements may be very clearly understood. 
Our engraving from one of these exhibits a part of the 
palace towards the garden, the interior court and gate- 
way being seen over the roof. Like some other sump- 
tuous edifices of the period, it was partly of timber. 
The relievos with which it was so abundantly decorated 
were of plaster ; and from the description of Hentzner,* 
a German, who visited England in the reign of Eli- 
zabeth, we may infer, that not only were they of Ita- 
lian workmanship, but that some might even be after 
the antique. Of the interior we have unfortunately no 
account. 

*' The palace itself," says Hentzner, " is so encom- 
passed with parks full of deer, delicious gardens, groves 
ornamented with trell ice-work, cabinets of verdure, 
and walks so emboweied by trees, that it seems to be a 
place pitched upon by Pleasure herself to dwell in along 
with Health. In the pleasure and artificial gardens are 
many columns and pyramids of marble ; two fountains 
that spout Mater one round the other like a pyramid, 
upon which are perched small birds that stream water 
out of their bills : in the grove of Diana is a very agree- 
able fountain with Actaeon turned into a stag as he was 
sprinkled by the goddess and her nymphs, with inscrip- 
tions. There is besides another pyramid of marble, with 
concealed pipes, which spirt upon all who come within 
their reach. "There is scarce an unnatural and 
sumptuous impropriety at Versailles," says Horace 
Walpole, speaking of this magnificent though false 
taste, " which we do not find in Hentzner's description " 
of these gardens.t 

The Queen left Nonsuch for Hampton on the 10th of 
August, visited the " Lord Admiral's place," on the 17th, 
and then relumed to Whitehall for the remainder of 
the year. 

In 1560 her progresses were unimportant. She left 
Greenwich in July; visited Parker, the Archbishop of 
Canterbury, at Lambeth ; went thence to Richmond, 
Oatlands, Sutton, Winchester, and Basing, where the 
Marquis of Winchester entertained her so splendidly, 
that the writer of a letter to the Earl of Shrewsbury, 
given by Lodge, says, that she" openly and merrily be- 
moaned him to be so old, • For else, by my troth, if my 
lord treasurer was a young man, I could find in my 
heart to have hjm to my husband before any man in 
England.' " From Basing she went to Windsor, and 
here, and in Westminster, finished the year. 

In 15G1, on the 10th of July, the Queen went from 
Westminster by Mater, to the Tower, to visit the Mint, 
where she "coined certain pieces of gold, and gave 
them away to those about her." "About five o'clock 
she went out at the Iron gate, and so over Tower-hill 
unto Aldgate church, and so down Houndsditch to the 
Spittle, and down HogVlane, and so over the fields to 
the Charter- House ;" a circuitous route, but chosen 
perhaps for the sake of going "over the fields." At 
the Charter-House she remained till the 14th ; going, 

* Travels in England, during the reign of Elizabeth, trans- 
lated hy Horace Walpole, 1757. 

f A part of the garden, with some of its ornaments, is 
shown below the elevation of the front of the building in our 
engraving. 



however, on the 13th, " b>; Cleikcnwell, over the fields 
unto the Savoy," to sup with Mr. Secretary Cecil, her 
Privy Council, and many lords, knights, and ladies, 
with "great cheer until midnight.*' 

On the day of her departure into Essex the city made 
a magnificent display ; the streets Mere new gravelled, 
the houses hung with cloth of gold and silver, arras, 
rich carpets, &c, and all the companies standing in 
their liveries from St. Michael le Quern to Aldgate ; 
the lord mayor and aldermen taking their leave of her 
Majesty at Aldgate. In this progress she visited Lord 
Rich at Wanstead ; the Earl of Oxford at Havering ; 
Sir John Grey at Purgo House, also in Havering pa- 
rish ; Sir Thomas Davey at Loughton Hall ; Sir Wil- 
liam Petre at Ingatestone ; the mansion of New Hall, 
or Beaulicu, built by her father at Boreham near 
Chelmsford ; and several other private residences. 
But at Colchester, Harwich, and Ipswich she was re- 
ceived and entertained by the respective corporations. 
At Harwich she was so well pleased with her recep 
tion, that " being attended by the magistrates at her de- 
parture as far as the Windmill out of the town, she 
graciously demanded of them what they had to request 
of her ; from whom she received this answer, ' Nothing, 
but to wish her Majesty a good journey.' Upon which 
she, turning her head about, and looking upon the 
town, said, * A pretty town : and wants nothing ;• and 
so bade them farewell.'* At Ipswich an assessment 
was made to defray the cost of her entertainment, 
but she docs not appear to have been altogether well 
pleased at that town, though she remained there from 
the 6th to the 10th of August Strype, in his Life of 
Archbishop Parker, says that "her Majesty took a 
great dislike at the imprudent behaviour of many of the 
ministers and readers, there being many weak ones 
among them, and but little or no order observed in 
the public service, and few or none wearing the sur- 
plice. And the bishop of Norwich himself was thought 
remiss, and winked at schismatics." From Suffolk, 
after visiting the Tollemaches, the Waldegraves, and 
the Morleys, she passed into Hertfordshire, to Standen, 
the residence of the celebrated Sir Ralph Sadler, and 
from thence to the town of Hertford. There is no ac- 
count of this visit in the records of the town, though it 
is indebted to Elizabeth for a fair and a charter. 
Here she remained from the 30th of August till the 
16th of September, when she took her departure for 
her own house at Enfield. This house had been bought 
by Henry VIII. probably as a nursery for his children. 
Edward VI. when Prince, resided here, and so did Eli- 
zabeth. A letter of hers in the British Museum is 
dated from Enfield, Feb. 14, but the year is omitted ; 
and the dedication of a MS., a translation of an Italian 
sermon, presented as a new year's gift to her brother 
Edward and preserved in the Bodleian Library, is 
dated from Enfield, but again without the year. She 
seems to have had a partiality for the place, visiting it 
so late as 1696, when she had «• butts set up in the park 
to shoot at after dinner." On the 22nd Sept., 1561, she 
"came from Enfield to St. James's beyond Charing 
Cross. From Islington thither the hedges and ditches 
were cut down to make the best way for her. There 
might be ten thousand people met to see her ; such 
Mas their gladness and affection to her. It was night 
ere she came over to St. Giles's in the Fields." What 
a contrast do these few lines present to the present 
time : " the hedges and ditches between Islington and 
Charing Cross," and the enormous number of " ten 
thousand " meeting her, such was their gladness and 
affection to her." The fields she then crossed are now 
covered with. the dwellings of twenty times the number 
of that assembled crowed. 

* Dale's * Harwich. 



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4/ 



THE SULPHUR-MINES OF SICILY. 

[From the ' Journal of the Statistical Society.'] 

Sulphur is found within the limits of a geographical 
line which commences at the river Maccasoli in the 
valley of Girgenti, runs northward as far as Lercara in 
the valley of Palermo, trends eastward to Centorbi in 
the valley of Catania, and thence runs south-westerly to 
Terranova in the valley of Caltanizetta, where it termi- 
nates. The area of the sulphur-district is about 2G00 
English square miles. Destitute of timber, and diver- 
sified only by fruit-trees scattered around the villages, 
it has few charms for the passing stranger beyond the 
fantastic shape of its cliffs and mountains. The man 
of science, however, who examines its soil, will find it 
replete throughout with objects of interest. The sul- 
phur territory, the formation of which is tertiary, pre- 
sents successive strata of shell, limestone, white and 
blue marl, intermixed with banks or beds of gypsum, 
and occasional patches of cretaceous matter. The sul- 
phur is found imbedded in the lowest stratum of blue 
marl, which is distinguished from the upper one by the 
entire absence of shells. The district contains about 
150 distinct mines, which are capable of yielding from 
750,000 to 800,000 cantars (about 50,000 to 80,000 tons) 
annually. Of the richest mines, those of Gallizzi, 
Sommatino, and Favara, the yearly production has 
been 100,000, 80,000, and 60,000 cantars respectively. 

The visitor to a sulphur-mine usually descends by a 
plane or staircase of high inclination to the first level, 
where he finds the half-naked miner picking sulphur 
from the rock with a huge and heavy tool; boys ga- 
thering the lumps together, and carrying them up to 
the surface; and, if water bo there, the pumpmen hard 
at work draining the mine. A similar scene meets 
his eye in the lower or second level. Abovepround 
the sulphur is heaped up in piles or fusing in kilns. 

Every stranger must be forcibly struck with the 
hardy and healthy look of the miners and burners, to 
whicn the lean and sickly aspect of the southern popu- 
lation forms a thorough contrast. The life of a pick- 
man, which is sometimes said to be hard and weari- 
some compared with that of the peasant, is in reality 
easy, and suitable to Sicilian taste. His working-days 
do not exceed 250 in the year, and his hours of labour 
are only six in the day. Left, therefore, with eighteen 
hours a day to himself, he passes three-fourths of his 
time in eatine, drinking, sleeping, and lounging about 
his village. Satisfied with animal existence, the pick- 
man seeks not intellectual pleasures at the cost of in- 
creased exertion. His wages rise and fall with the 
price of the mineral ; from Nkf. to 20d. a day for him- 
self, and about half as much for each of his bovs, are 
reckoned good earnings. The pumpmen are ill-paid 
labourers compared with the pickmen. Their daily 
toil, if lighter, is longer and less intermitted ; and their 
occupation is productive of sickness rather than con- 
ducive to health, Constantly drawing in sulphuretted 
hydrogen gas* which escapes from the agitated water, 
they suffer so severely in their eyes as often to become 
blind for 24 hours. They work for eight hours a day, 
and earn from 1*. to 1*. Ad. each. The burners, who 
extract the sulphur by fusing the ore in kilns made of 

?;ypsuni and stone, or sometimes in close vessels or 
u maces, usually earn about 1$. a day. 
The sulphur thus obtained by liquation, when har- 
dened into cakes, is taken down to the coast by carriers 
and muleteers. These are mostly small farmers, who 
are paid by the load, according to the time of the year 
and the demand for their services. Being seldom 
trustworthy people, these carriers are engaged by a 
warranter, wno, for less than \d. a can tar, becomes 
answerable for the safe delivery of the sulphur at the 
shipping-place. To Palermo and Catania the sulphur 



is conveyed in carts ; to the southern ports it is carried 
down on mules and asses. 

Such is the working part of a mining establishment. 
The overlookers are mining-captains, clerks, and a 
manager. The mining-captain, chosen from among 
the pickmen for his knowledge of the mine, examines 
the veins and directs the operation. As the right-hand 
man of the manager, he is looked upon by the pickmen 
and others as a person whose good opinion it is worth 
while to cultivate. Living in a substantial and com- 
modious house, and dressing in a neat and becoming 
manner on Sundays and holidays, he holds a respect- 
able place in village society. He usually resides a few 
miles from the works ; but in some cases he dwells 
at the mine, where he is required to be in constant at- 
tendance from morning till night. His wages are 
from 2s. to 4*. a day ; but many unlawful perquisites 
raise his earnings to a higher amount. After a few 
years* constant employment in a rich and extensive 
mine, he is usually able to retire with a competence 
sufficient for his limited wants. The clerks and watch- 
men, who keep account of piece-work and labourers' 
time, who receive the fused sulphur and weigh it out 
to the carriers, and who reside at the mine to take 
care of the works, usually earn from Is. Sd. to 2s. Sd. 
a-day. The manager or nead agent acts as treasurer 
and trustee for the owners or lessees of the miue. 
Aided by the mining-captain and the clerks, he en-, 
gages and pays the workmen, and keeps the general 
accounts. His salary is from 4s. to 6*. Sd. a day. His 
gains are perhaps double this amount : so that he often 
makes his fortune in the course of a few years. 

The number of persons regularly employed in the 
sulphur mines has been estimated at 4400 : viz. 1300 
pic k men, 2600 boys, 300 burners, and 200 clerks and 
others ; to which if 3G00 persons occasionally em- 
ployed, viz. 2600 carriers, and 1000 wharfingers, bo 
added, the total amount will be 8000 persons more or 
less engaged in the extraction of ore and the exporta- 
tion of sulphur. A small portion of the sulphur car- 
ried down to Girgenti serves for the use of a royal re- 
finery, whence it is exported to France and Austria in 
powder and in rolls. Previous to the sulphur contract 
the chief part was sent in cakes to England, France, 
Holland, Russia, and the United States, in the propor- 
tion of three-sixths to England, two-sixths to France, 
and the rest to other countries. 

In the Sicilian market sulphur is divided into first, 
second, and third qualities of Licata (each of which is 
subdivided into best, good, and current), and into first 
and second quality of Girgenti, with the like subdi- 
visions. The first and second qualities of Girgenti 
correspond with the second and third of Licata. 

In former times, when the use of sulphur was con- 
fined to medicinal purposes and the manufacture of 
gunpowder, the exportation was small ; but as soon as 
the mineral was applied to the making of carbonate of 
soda, the amount became considerable. The exporta- 
tion from 1832 to 1838 was as follows :— 

Year 1832 . . . 400,890 Cantars. 

1833 . . . 495,769 

1*31 . . . 670,413 

183.) . . . 661,775 

1830 . . . 855,376 

1S37 . . • 764,241 

1838 (7 Months) . 1,011591 

Total . . 4,866,058 = 374,312 Tons, 
being at the rate of 739,140 cantars, or 56,857 tons, per 
annum. [Since this period the exports have been 
gp-eatly varied in consequence of government regula- 
tions interfering with the commercial disposal of sul- 
phur, and which have hardly yet ceased to operate ; so 
that further returns would only give a fallacious re- 
presentation.] 



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THE ETRUSCAN ANTIQUITIES OF THE 
BRITISH MUSEUM. 

Living in a country which produced in abundance, 
and with little labour, all the means of enjoying life, 
the Etrurians appear to have abandoned themselves to 
ease and pleasure. Servile duties were committed to 
serfs, while their masters enjoyed the luxuries pro- 
cured by their labour, and sat down twice a day to well- 
loaded tables, a custom which surprised the intellectual 
Greeks. Embroidered carpets, silver plate, trains of 
richly-clad slaves, gratified their taste for display and 
magnificence. Music, dancing, the theatre, heroic 
legends, and literature, gave some elevation to their 
more sensual enjoyments. Their life of easy enjoy- 
ment was varied by public games, horse and chariot 
races, and by the sports of the field. It is Niebuhr 
who says that, undoubtedly, Greek poems were fami- 
liar to the Etrurians, and the subjects of Greek my- 
thology, and the legends of Thebes and Ilium, lived in 
the speech of the nation, and in poems in the native 
tongue. Stringed instruments arc figured on the 
vases ; but the proper native instrument was the flute. 
Well might their legends refer to Etruria as the chosen 
and favourite land of the gods. There abounded all 
that ministered to heathen happiness. 

Niebuhr terms the Etrurians a "priest-ridden" 
people. The secret of the priesthood, whom he cha- 
racterises as a " warlike sacerdotal caste, like the Chal- 
deans," was the interpretation of lightning. This and 
other branches of divination, as reading fate in the 
entrails of victims, and perhaps in the flight of birds, 
was taught in schools. Their knowledge of medicine, 
physic, and astronomy was neither borrowed from the 
Greeks nor Carthaginians, but is believed to have 
been indigenous, and brought with them from the 
north, when they conquered a more ancient people, 
and established themselves in their country. The 
Etrurian mode of determining time was extremely 
accurate, and based on the same principles as the com- 
putation observed by the ancient Mexicans. 

The political state of Etruria is less obscure than 
some other portions of its history. There were cer- 
tain sovereign cities, and the territory belonging to 
each contained provincial towns, some of them de- 
pendent colonies, others inhabited by subjects, the de- 
scendants of the old population that bad been sub- 
dued. " Now," says Nieouhr, " because the Etruscan 
state was founded on conquest, hence arose the multi- 
tude of clients attached to the Etruscan nobility ; 
hence the task-labourers, without whom the colossal 
works of the ruling people could scarcely have been 
raised. The Roman relation between patron and client 
was the feudal system in its noblest form ; but even 
supposing that among the Etruscans a similar law of 
conscience bound the patron and protected the client, 
still it was on the free plebeian estate that the greatness 
of Rome rested ; and none such, it is evident, existed 
in any Etruscan city. ... It was not by popular 
assemblies, nor even by deliberations of a numerous 
senate, but by meetings of the chiefs of the land, the 
magnates, that the general affairs of the nation were 
decided upon : we must not imagine that the assemblies 
at the temple of Voltumna were of any other kind, or 
that they corresponded with the institutions of really 
free nations, such as the Latins and Samnites. These 
ruling houses," he adds, " were exposed to the violent 
revolutions which everywhere threaten an oligarchy, 
even from the midst of its own body, where it is not 
upheld by some powerful protection from without, open 
or dissembled ;" and then the philosophical historian 
points out the consequence of isolated power. " Now, 
from this source, because a free and respectable com- 
monalty was never formed among the Etruscans, but 



the old feudal system was obstinately retained and ex- 
tended, arose the remarkable weakness of the great 
Etruscan cities in the Roman wars, when the victory 
was determined by a numerous stout infantry." Hence 
their cities were successively crushed by the power of 
Rome, and, as already stated, the towns, with their terri- 
tories, were parcelled out among the legions. 

We have no detailed account of the method pursued 
by the Etruscans in the manufacture of their vases, 
but D'Hancarville, in his * Antiquitcs Etrusques,' has 
collected remarks in various ancient authors, from 
which he has attempted an account of their procedure, 
which may be briefly summed up as follows : — u The 
clay, which is of a very fine quality, they procured from 
the banks of the Vulturnus, a river of Capua, and, 
placing it in water, they allowed it to remain until it 
had become sufficiently pliant to be moulded into any 
form. They then, by means of the • potter's wheel,' 
moulded the clay to the shape required, and while it 
was still wet a coating of iron ochre was applied, 
which, when heated at the last stage of the process, 
produced the black colour which generally forms the 
ground of the vases. The painter then drew in the 
ground of the figures ; and as he did not exercise his 
art on a plane surface, but on one which was consider- 
ably curved, and was obliged, moreover, to keep the 
vases upright, as, in the plastic state in which they 
were at this period of their manufacture, their own 
weight, if placed sideways, would tend to alter their 
form, we may judge of the great difficulty he had to 
encounter in producing a continuous and even line. 
The borders and ornaments now appear to have been 
put in, and then the vase was placed in a furnace, 
where the colours were burnt in, and the whole com- 
pleted." 



fEtrufcan Vase.] 



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[Mole— To/pa Btropcea.) 



CURIOSITIES OF BRITISH NATURAL 
HISTORY. 

HOLES. 

Though rains and driving sleets "deform the day de- 
lightless," though "winter lingers on the budding 
bush," yet will not the field-naturalist, he who loves to 
observe for himself the progress of vegetation, and the 
habits and instincts of living things, deem the present 
month destitute of interest ; and as he wends his way 
over greening fields, by thorny brakes, and tangled 
woods, he will observe many objects, and note many 
•' unconsidered trifles," to him full of interest or in- 
struction. Among these, the results of the labours of 
that " goodman delver," the mole, will not be over- 
looked. 

The mole, like the rook, has its advocates and its 
opponents — one party regarding it as benefiting the 
agriculturist by its mining operations, another party 
accusing it as the author of extensive mischief. The 
benefits and the injuries produced by this little animal 
may be at once appreciated when we come to investi- 
gate its habits, instincts, and general economy. We 
need not say that the mole is a miner, living an al- 
most exclusively subterranean life, ever pursuing its 
a through the soil, and working out long galleries 
e chase. In accordance with its destined habits is 
the whole of its structural development. No one ex- 
amining the external conformation and internal struc- 
ture of the mole could err in his inferences. We may 
observe that the body is cylindrical and compact ; the 
snout prolonged and pointed ; the limbs very short ; 
the anterior pair present a thick, contracted arm, ter- 
minating in broad solid paws, with five fingers scarcely 
divided, and armed with strong flat nails. The tour- 
nure of these scrapers, for such they are, gives them 
an obliquely outward position, and facilitates their use 
as scooping instruments, by which the soil is not only 

no. 697. 



dug up, but thrown backwards at each stroke, and that 
with great energy. The hinder limbs are small, and 
the feet feeble in comparison with the anterior scrapers; 
while the body tapers to them from the chest and 
shoulders, so the hinder quarters offer no impediment 
to the animal's progress through its narrow galleries. 
The fur, moreover, is such as best befits a subterranean 
dweller — it is extremely close, fine, short, and smooth, 
and resembles the nap of black velvet. There is no 
external conch to the organs of hearing, the sense of 
which is acute in the extreme; a simple auditory 
opening, capable of being closed or dilated at pleasure, 
leads to the internal apparatus, which is effectually 
defended from the intrusion of particles of earth or 
sand. At a cursory glance the mole appears to be 
destitute of eyes; they are, however, not wanting, 
though very small, and buried in the fur. A limited 
power of vision is sufficient for this dweller in the 
dark ; the mole, however, can see better than might 
be imagined. By a peculiar muscular contrivance it 
is capable of bringing forward, or of drawing in, the 
eye — and this, when withdrawn, is enveloped in and 
defended by the close fur ; so that, as is the case with 
the ear, no particles of earth can injure it. We have 
said that the sense of hearing is exquisite ; and to it 
the mole trusts for warning on the approach of dan- 
ger :— 

" Pray you, tread softly, that tbe blind mole may not 
Hear a foot fall. 1 * — Shakspere. 

But the sense of smell is equally delicate ; and by (his 
it is guided in its search for food. It bores its long 
sharp nose in the earth as it traverses its galleries, and 
immediately detects worms and the larvae of insects, 
which constitute its chief food. Nor is the feeling of 
this part at a low ratio : it is, on the contrary, very 
acute and susceptible, and aids the sense of smell in the 
procuring of food. The pointed snout is, indeed, a 



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f February 11, 



finger-like organ of prehension, as well as a boring 
instrument. The general skin of the body is strong 
and tough, and not easily torn or lacerated. 

When we examine the osseous and muscular deve- 
lopment of the mole, we find a perfect correspondence 
with its external characters ana the perfection of its 
senses. The great development of the skeleton is 
anteriorly, namely, in the bones of the shoulders, arms, 
and chest. The skull is depressed above, elongated, 
and pointed; and the snout, continued beyond the 
maxillary and nasal bones, is supported by a little 
additional bone, produced by the ossification of the 
cartilage. Its boring faculties are rendered still more 
effective by the ossified condition of the ligament of 
the neck, which passes from the back of the skull, 
down the cervical vertebrae, and which in other animals 
is clastic. The power of pushing with the snout is 
thus increased, and the strain upon the neck more 
easily borne. The muscles of the neck, which act on 
this bone and on the head, are very voluminous. The 
ribs are strong, and the capacity of the chest consider- 
able. From the breast-bone an additional portion 
advances forwards, having a deep keel, as we see in 
birds, for the attachment of the enormous pectoral 
muscles, the force of which is employed upon the fore- 
limbs, in the act of excavating the earth. The collar- 
bones are thick and short ; the blade-bone, or scapula, 
is long and narrow ; the humerus is angular, and as 
broad as it is long ; the bones of the fore-arm are strong 
and thick, and the olecranon of the ulna is large and 
transverse, for the insertion of voluminous muscles. 
The bones of the broad solid hands are compacted 
firmly together, and form an unyielding mass ; and an 
additional laternal bone of large dimensions and com- 
pressed form, convex on its outer aspect, extending 
from the radius to the first metacarpal bone, not only 
enlarges the breadth of the hand, but adds to its firm- 
ness and solidity. The anterior limbs are thrown as 
far forward as possible, for it is to the projecting por- 
tion of the sternum that the clavicles are affixed, and 
the enormous pectoral muscles are inserted into the 
humerus as low down as possible. Their action is to 
bring the arm backward, the palms of the hands being 
turned obliquely outwards. The muscles of the 
scapula are distinguished rather for length than 
volume ; they are elevators of the humerus, and their 
office requires celerity more than power, in order that 
the process of burrowing may be conducted with the 
'east lapse of time between each stroke. As excava- 
ting instruments the fore-limbs and scrapers of the mole 
cannot be exceeded. Thus, then, in outward endow- 
ments and in internal structure, as well as in the per- 
fection of its senses, is this animal fitted for its labori- 
ous operations, which cease not but with its life. We 
have alluded to worms and the larvae of insects as 
constituting the food of the mole, and we shall find its 
teeth, which are small, exhibiting a decidedly insec- 
tivorous character; the molars being crowned with 
sharp-pointed tubercles or eminences. 

From this very general glance at the organization 
of the mole, let us proceed to an investigation of its 
habits and modes of life. 



** Well said, old mole j— canst work in the earth 
So fast t — A worthy pioneer."— Shakspere. 

It is to M. Henri le Court, who, when the French 
Revolution broke forth with all the excesses an infu- 
riated populace can be imagined to commit, retired into 
the country, and there, remote from scenes of devasta- 
tion and bloodshed, devoted himself to the study of this 
animal, that we are indebted for the most interesting 
facts in its history. 

The discoveries which weTe made by this observer 
were published in 1803, by M . Cadel de Vaux, and in 



a compressed form by M. Geoffroy St. Hilaire, in his 
4 Cours d'Histoire Naturelle.' 

It would appear that the subterranean labours of the 
mole are exerted in the accomplishment of very dif- 
ferent objects. Each mole may be said to have its 
own district or manor, its hunting-ground, and its 
lodges; and this ground is traversed by high-road 
tunnels, through which it travels from one part to 
another, all branching off from a central fortress— its 
ordinary residence, which is, however, not only distinct, 
but often remote from the chamber in which the nest 
is made and the young reared. We will begin by 
describing the fortress, or ordinary domicile: — This 
fortress is constructed under a hillock of considerable 
size (not one of those which we ordinarily see, and 
which, thrown up every night, indicate its hunting ex- 
cursions). This hillock is raised in some secure place, 
where a high bank, the roots of a tree, or the base of a 
wall, afford protection. The earth formmg this mound 
is well compacted together, and made solid by the 
labours of the architect; and within this firm-set 
mound is a complex arrangement of galleries and 
passages of communication. First, a circular gallery 
occupies the upper portion of the mound, and this 
communicates by means of five descending passages 
with another, and with a gallery at the base of the 
mound, and enclosing a larger area. These passages 
are nearly at equal distances. Within the area of this 
lower gallery is a chamber, not immediately communi- 
cating with it, but with the upper gallery, by three 
abruptly descending tunnels, so that to get into the 
basal gallery the mole has first to ascend to the top 
gallery, and from that descend into the lower gallery. 
This chamber is the dormitory of the mole. From the 
basal gallery opens a high-road tunnel, which is carried 
out in a direct line to the extent of the manor over 
which the individual presides, and from the bottom of 
the central chamber a passage descends, and then 
sweeping upwards joins this main road at a little dis- 
tance from the hillock ; so that the mole can enter the 
high-road either from its dormitory or from the basal 
gallery. Besides the high-road eight or nine other 
tunnels are carried out from the basal gallery ; they 
are of greater or less extent, and wind round more or 
lees irregularly, opening into the high-road at various 
distances from the hillock : these irregular tunnels the 
mole is continually extending in quest of prey ; throw- 
ing up the soil above the turf, through boles which it 
makes for the purpose, and which form the ordinary 
mole-hills which we often see crowded thickly together. 
The high or main road exceeds in diameter the body of 
the mole, and is solid and well trodden, with smooth 
sides ; its depth varies, according to the quality of the 
soil, instinct directing the little excavator in his work. 
Ordinarily it is five or six inches below the surface, but 
when carried under a streamlet or pathway it is often 
a foot and a half beneath. It sometimes happens that 
the mole will drive two or more additional high-roads 
in order to the extension of its operations ; and one 
high-road occasionally serves several moles, which, 
however, never trespass on each other's preserves. 
They often meet in these roads, which will not admit 
of two passing at the same time ; one therefore must 
retreat, but when two males thus come into collision 
they frequently attack each other, the weaker falling a 
victim in the combat. The alleys opening from the 
sides of the high-road are generally inclined down- 
wards with a gradual slope, and then at the termina- 
tion of these the mole excavates branch alleys, upheav- 
ing mole-hills as it works onwards in pursuit of prey. 
This, however, is not invariably the case, but rather 
where prey is abundant in rich soils : where the soil is 
barren the mole is constantly driving fresh alleys; 
these in winter are carried deep down to where the 



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worms have pierced iheir way beyond the line to which 
the frost penetrates; for, be it observed, the mole does 
not hybernate, but is as active during winter as in 
spring or summer, though the results of his operations 
are less manifest. In soft rich soils, where the worms 
are among the roots of the turf, the mole, as may be 
often noticed, drives very superficial runs in the pur- 
suit of them ; these runs are to be seen where a thin 
layer of richly manured soil overlays a stratum of 
gravel: in fact the depth of these alleys is always 
determined by the quality of the soil and consequent 
situation of the worms. With respect to the nest of 
the female, it is generally constructed at a distance 
from the fortress, where, at some convenient part, three 
or four passages intersect each other: this point of 
convergence is enlarged and rendered commodious, 
and fitted to receive a bed made of dry herbage, fibrous 
roots, &c. The chamber is generally beneath a large 
hillock, but ndt always; and the surrounding soil is 
usually such as to afford abundant food to the female 
with little trouble on her part The mole breeds in 
the spring, mostly in April, and brings forth four or 
five young at a birth. These are supposed to remain 
under the mother's care till about naif grown, when 
they commence an independent existence. 

Of all animals the mole is one that endures fasting 
the least ; a short fast proves fatal to it, hence it is 
necessarily ever labouring in quest of food. It would 
appear that all its animal appetites are in excess ; its 
hunger is voracity amounting to rage, under the influ- 
ence of which it fastens on its prey with intense eager- 
ness. Earthworms are its favounte food, and these it 
skins with great address, squeezing out the earthy con- 
tents of the body before swallowing it. It is not, how- 
ever, exclusively upon earthworms and the larvae of 
insects that the mole feeds; during the months of 
June and July it is in the habit of leaving its runs 
under the turf, and of wandering during the night 
(and occasionally even during the day) on the surface, 
in quest of prey, such as birds, mice, frogs, lizards, 
snails, &c. ; but it refuses to touch the toad, in conse- 
quence no doubt of the acrid exudation from that rep- 
tile's skin. During these noctural excursions it often 
falls a prey to the owl ; and we have seen it in the day 
time caught and killed by dogs. It might be supposed 
from the figure of the mole that its motions were very 
slow and deliberate ; it trips along, however, at a fair 
pace, and traverses its underground runs and galleries 
with great rapidity. Of this the experiments made by 
Le Court afford decisive proof. Watching the oppor- 
tunity while a mole was feeding, at the extreme limits 
of its territory, he placed along the course of the high 
road to its fortress a number of little flagstaff's, each 
staff being a straw, and the flag a bit of paper ; the 
ends of the straws were pushed down into the tunnel. 
When all was ready he blew a horn inserted into one 
of the openings of the feeding alleys, frightening with 
the horrid blast the animal then busily engaged in the 
important task of satisfying its hunger. Off started the 
mole for its fortress, and down went flag after flag in 
rapid succession, as the frightened creature impelled 
by terror rushed along the tunnel to its asylum. So 
swift was its pace, that the spectators compared it to 
that of a horse at a moderate trot. 

The voracity of the mole and its perpetually recur- 
ring repasts upon animal food, render water not only a 
welcome refreshment, but necessary to its existence. 
A run, sometimes used by many individuals, always 
leads to a ditch, stream, or pond, if such be within a 
moderate distance. If these natural supplies be not 
at hand, the mole sinks little wells, in the shape of per- 
pendicular shafts, which become filled with the rain, 
and retain the water ; and they have sometimes been 
found brim full. Scarcity of water, or a drought, 



as well as a scarcity of worms, often obliges the mole 
to shift its quarters, and locate upon other grounds. In 
its migration it will cross brooks or rivers, swimming 
admirably ; and when spring or autumn floods inun- 
date the fields, it easily saves itself by these means. It 
is moreover affirmed that in this peril the male and 
female brave the waters together, and expose them- 
selves to the utmost danger in order to save their 
young, in which office of parental devotion they 
mutually assist and protect eacli other. 

It is a remarkable circumstance that the males of 
this animal are far more numerous than the females, 
and in the early part of the spring the former often 
engage in most desperate conflicts, the victor not un- 
frequently leaving the vanquished dead upon the spot. 
The attachment of the male to his mate is very power- 
ful ; — and instances are not uncommon of the male 
lying dead beside the female, the latter having been 
killed in a trap. It must be recollected that a short 
fast proves fatal to these animals — and it is not impro- 
bable that, impelled by the force of instinctive attach- 
ment, which overcame that of hunger, the male re- 
jected or forbore to seek food, and thus pined to death. 

With the voracity of the mole is joined a fierce and 
combative disposition. If several moles be kept in a box 
of earth, and not supplied with an abundance of food, 
they attack each other, and the weaker falls a prey to 
the stronger: when the mole seizes, it holds like a 
bull-dog, with a tenacious gripe ; and is not easily dis- 
engaged. Mr. Jackson, as stated by Mr. Bell, says 
that, " when a boy, his hand was so severely and firmly 
laid hold of by one, that he was obliged to use his 
teeth in order to loosen its hold." M. Geoffroy St. 
Hilaire describes the manner in which the mole ap- 
proaches and seizes a bird : it exerts several stratagems 
to get within reach of its victim, employing the utmost 
address and caution ; but when this is accomplished, it 
suddenly changes its plan, and makes an instantaneous 
and impetuous attack, fastens on the hapless bird, tears 
open the abdomen, thrusts its snout among the viscera, 
and revels in its sanguinary repast. After satiating 
its ravenous appetite, the mole sinks into a profound 
repose : in the winter it slumbers in its fortress ; but 
in the summer, beneath some ordinary mole-hill in 
one of its alleys. This sleep endures for about four 
hours, or perhaps longer in the middle of the day, 
when it awakes with a renovated appetite. Its busiest 
time is in the evening* during the night, and early in 
the morning. We have, however, ourselves seen it 
busy above-ground in the earlier part of the day ; on 
one occasion we saw several in a damp meadow near 
the canal running from Calais to St. Omer, and a dog 
belonging to one of the passengers on board the boat 
killed two or three. 

From what we have said of the habits of the mole, 
some idea may be formed as to whether it injures or 
benefits the agriculturist and horticulturist. — It is 
certainly not herbivorous ; for though fibrous roots and 
other vegetables have been occasionally found in its 
stomach, it is evident that they were only accidentally 
swallowed with the worms it had dislodged from among 
the roots of the grass, or with the larvoe which it had 
extricated by gnawing the vegetable matters into 
which they had bored. As regards its nest, which is 
made of dried grasses, fibrous roots, moss, and the like, 
little injury can result from the animal constructing it 
of these materials. It is true that Geoffroy St Hilaire and 
Le Court counted two hundred and four young wheat- 
blades in one nest, but this is evidently not an ordinary 
occurrence. It is alleged that the fortresses which 
the mole constructs for its autumn and winter resi- 
dence, when left in the summer (the mole usually form- 
ing a new one for its next winter retreat), afford pro- 
tection to the field-mouse, of which the ravages are 

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[February 11, 



often so severe ; but the field-mouse would make a 
burrow for itself, did it not find one constructed for its 
purpose, and would neither leave the spot nor become 
diminished in numbers if not a mole-hill were in the 
country ; besides, the field-mouse frequently fall a prey 
to the mole. This objection, therefore, against the mole 
is destitute of solidity, though it has often been urged. 
The injury, therefore, which the mole produces must 
be, first, from thinning the soil of earthworms ; and 
secondly, from making galleries, and thus interfering 
with the roots of vegetables, thereby causing their 
destruction. The first argument has perhaps some 
weight The utility of the earthworm is unquestion- 
able. It loosens the soil by its boring operations; 
thereby rendering it more porous and susceptible of the 
infiltration of water, so essential to the nutriment of 
plants. It moreover raises as well as lightens the sur- 
face of the soil, insomuch that stones and other objects 
which cumber the ground are even in a few months 
buried beneath an accumulation of mould, the rejecta- 
mentum of the nutritive materials of myriads of these 
creatures, the effect of whose agency is to level and 
smooth the surface of the soil and fit it for herbage. 
Thus may they be called pasture-makers, or top-dressers 
of pasture land. Still, granting all this, it is Questiona- 
ble whether in rich soils trie quantity of worms destroyed, 
however great, would materially reduce their count- 
less numbers. With respect to the second point, moles 
certainly do mischief in some cases to the farmer, by 
excavating their runs and galleries, and that especially 
in fields of grain, after the seed is sown, and when the 



blades are rising : they do more mischief, however, in 
gardens ; but there they occur very rarely. There are, 
however, cases in which the mining operations of the 
mole appear to be decidedly beneficial. In extensive 
sheep-walks, the subsoil which they throw up forms a 
good top-dressing to the short grass, the roots of which 
they do not appear to injure, and it has been asserted 
that sheep-walks from which these animals have been 
extirpated have become materially altered in the cha- 
racter of their 'feed,' and that the proprietors of the 
sheep have been obliged to introduce tnem again. It 
may be concluded, then, that the evils which the mole 
occasions by its works have been greatly magnified : 
while, perhaps, on the other hand, too much benefit 
has been attributed, by its advocates, to the results of 
its habits and economy. 

The mole does not exist in the extreme north of 
Scotland, in Zetland, or the Orkney Islands, nor has 
it been seen in any part of Ireland. 

Varieties of this animal often occur : we have ex- 
amined specimens of a mouse-colour, of a white, cream 
white, and pale yellowish orange. 

The names by which the mole is known in England 
are Mouldwarp, Mouldiwarp, and, in Dorsetshire and 
Devonshire, Irani. "Wand" is its old Danish name; 
and " Vond" its present name in Norway. The Welsh 
term it Gwadd, and Twrch daear. It is the Maulwerf 
of the Germans ; La Taupe of the French ; Topo of 
the Spanish ; Toupeiro of the Portuguese ; and Talpa 
of the Italians, 



r Fort Chippewa, on the nver WelUud,or Chippewa.— ttoiu a lnaw 

THE NIAGARA DISTRICT, WESTERN 
CANADA.-NO. JI. 

The district situated between Lake Ontario and Lake 
Erie, as it has been the longest settled, so also is it the 
best cultivated part of Western Canada. The vicinity 
to the two great lakes renders the climate more agree- 
able, by diminishing the severity of the winter and tem- 
pering the summer heats. Fruits of various kinds arrive 
at great perfection, cargoes of which are exported to 
Montreal, Quebec, and other places situated in the less 



my by Mr*. Simcoe, taken during the American Revoluuonulr \lar.j 

genial parts of the Eastern province. Mrs. Jameson 
speaks of this district as " superlatively beautiful.*' The 
only place approaching a town in size and the number 
of inhabitants, from the Falls all along the shores of 
Lake Erie for a great distance, beyond even Grand 
River, is Chippewa, situated on the river Welland, or 
Chippewa, which empties itself in the Niagara Strait, 
just where the rapids commence and the navigation 
terminates. One or more steam-boats run between 
Chippewa and Buffaloe. Chippewa is still but a small 
village, but as it lies immediately on the great route 



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from the Western states of the American Union to the 
Falls of Niagara and the Eastern states, it will pro- 
bably rise into importance. 

In no country on the face of the globe has nature 
traced out lines of internal navigation on so grand a 
scale as in North America. Entering the mouth of 
the St. Lawrence, in the north-eastern part of the con- 
tinent^we are carried by that river through the great 
lakes to the head of Lake Superior, a distance of nearly 
nineteen hundred miles. On the south we find the 
Mississipi pouring its waters into the Gulf of Mexico, 
within a few degrees of the tropics, after a course of 
three thousand two hundred miles. The * Great Water/ 
as the name signifies, and its numerous branches, drain 
a surface of about one million one hundred thousand 
square miles, or an area about twenty times greater 
than England and Wales. The tributaries of the 
Mississipi equal the largest rivers of Europe. The 
course of the Missouri is probably not less than three 
thousand miles. The Ohio winds above a thousand 
miles through fertile countries. The tributaries of 
these tributaries are great rivers. The* Wabash, a 
feeder of the Ohio, has a course of about five hundred 
miles, four hundred of which are navigable. When 
the canal is completed which will unite Lake Michigan 
with the head of navigation on the Illinois river, it 
will be possible to proceed by lines of inland naviga- 
tion from Quebec to New Orleans. There is space 
within the regions enjoying these advantages of water- 
communication, and already peopled by the Anglo- 
Saxon race, for five hundred millions of the human 
race, or more than double the population of Europe at 
the present time. Imagination cannot conceive the 
new influences which will be exercised on the affairs 
of the world when the great valley of the Mississipi, 
and the continent from Lake Superior to New Orleans, 
is thronged with population. In the valley of the 
Mississipi alone there is abundant room for a popula- 
tion of a hundred millions. 

The line of navigation by the St. Lawrence did not 
extend beyond Lake Ontario until the Welland canal 
was constructed. This important work is forty-two 
miles long, and admits ships of one hundred and 
twenty-five tons, which is about the average tonnage 
of the trading vessels on the Lakes. The Niagara 
Strait is nearly parallel to the Welland canal, and 
more than one-third of it is not navigable. The canal, 
by opening the communication between Lake Ontario 
and Lake Erie, has conferred an immense benefit on 
all the districts west of Ontario. The great Erie 
canal, described in No. 466, has been still more benefi- 
cial, by connecting the lakes with New York and the 
Atlantic by the Hudson river, which the canal joins 
after a course of three hundred and sixty-three miles. 
The effect of these two canals was quickly perceptible 
in the greater activity of commerce on Lake Erie, 
and the Erie canal has rendered this lake the great 
line of transit from New York to the Western states. 

The first steam-boat which navigated the lakes was 
built at Erie in 1818. In that year the tonnage of all 
the lakes did not exceed two thousand tons ; but, ac- 
cording to* Mr. Buckingham's very recent statement, it 
now exceeds fifty thousand tons, and employs six 
thousand men. The largest of the steam-vessels are 
from seven to eight hundred tons, and the smallest 
three hundred tons. Some of the finest steam-boats in 
the United States are to be found here. They navigate 
from Chicago on Lake Michigan, to Buffaloe in the 
state of New York, a distance of nearly a thousand 
miles ; and a great part of the voyage on these inland 
seas is made out of sight of land. The steam-boats are 
built as strongly as if intended for navigating the 
ocean. Mr. Buckingham, who was much struck with 
their capabilities, and the excellence of all their inter- 



nal arrangements, gives the following account of two 
which particularly attracted his attention: — "The 
Illinois, he says, " is built after the fashion of the 
Eastern boats, such as go between New York and 
Providence or Boston, but much more elegant than 
any of thc3c. The Illinois indeed may be called a 
floating palace, the most costly decorations being 
everywhere lavished on her, as may be judged of from 
the tact of her costing 130,000 dollars (27,000/.) from 
the builder's hands. The Great Western is another 
splendid boat, still larger than the Illinois, and almost 
as richly ornamented, but built on the plan of the 
Mississipi boats, with a double deck of cabins, so as to 
accommodate about five hundred passengers, with high- 
pressure engines, but combining also speed, safety, and 
comfort in an unusual degree." In the passage down 
Lake Erie, ships, brigs, sloops, and schooners are seen 
in every direction on the horizon. Mr. Buckingham 
counted above one hundred, and twenty-two were in 
sight at one time. The voyage from Cleaveland, or the 
southern shore of Lake Erie, to Buffaloe, a distance ot 
one hundred and ninety miles, occupied about sixteen 
hours. How great the contrast to the time when only 
the Indian canoe was seen upon these waters ! 



SOUTH STAFFORDSHIRE AT NIGHT. 

Many of our counties excel Staffordshire in those 
traits which, either for their beauty or their singu- 
larity, attract the attention of the traveller when 
viewed by day ; but perhaps none is more remarkable, 
more startling than this, when seen by night, especially 
the southern portion of the county. The whole face 
of the country seems to be on fire. A lurid glare 
speckles the scene around in a manner very inexplica- 
ble to one unacquainted with the mineral character of 
the district From Birmingham to Wolverhampton, 
from Stourbridge to Walsall, in whatever way we 
travel, by night, over the extreme southern portion of 
the county, appearances are presented which, if seen 
near London, would set all the Fire Brigade into ac- 
tivity. 

We are to look to the mines of coal and iron as the 
source of these peculiarities. South ^Staffordshire is 
one of our richest and most valuable mineral districts. 
It possesses the ironstone which affords, by smelting, 
the metallic iron for our various uses, and it supplies the 
coal for the smelting. In the geological maps of the 
county, the coal and iron district is marked out by 
some such limits as the following : — From Stourbridge 
and Halesowen in the south (near the latter of which 
Shenstone's residence of the Leasowes was situated) 
to Rugeley in the north, an elongated oval marks the 
region, the eastern boundary passing by Walsall, West 
Bromwich, and Smethwick ; and the western by Can- 
nock, Wolverhampton, and Sedgeley. The district is 
perhaps twenty miles long, in a straight line, from 
north to south, and four or five in average width ; the 
southern half of this elongated oval has been the most 
extensively worked, Dudley, Tipton, Bilston, and 
Wednesbury being the centre of the busiest portion. 

Most of our old topographers and historians have 
more or less alluded to this region of coal and iron. 
Camden, who is supposed to have travelled through 
South Staffordshire about the year 1575, says of it : — 
"The south part of Staffordshire hath coles digged 
out of the earth, and mines of iron. But whether 
more for their commoditie or hinderance, I leave to 
the inhabitants who doe or shall better understand it." 
What Camden means by this is not very clear ; ex- 
cept that he took rather a slighting and unfavourable 
view of that which has given wealth and influence to 
South Staffordshire. 

The records of the iron-works of Staffordshire go 



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[February 11, 



farther back than those relating to coal. All our iron 
is now smelted with coal, or with coke produced there- 
from : but formerly wood-charcoal was believed to be 
the only fuel fitted for this purpose ; and this circum- 
stance produced a remarkable effect on the surround- 
ing districts. Domesday-Book and other authorities 
state that large portions of South Staffordshire, and the 
neighbouring part of Warwickshire, were covered 
with wood ; whereas at the present day the amount 
of wood is extremely small, the deficiency having 
been occasioned by the large use of wood-charcoal in 
smelting the iron. A curious surmise has been offered 
as to the changes which the iron-smelting has pro- 
duced in the districts near which it is carried on. It 
is supposed that in early times the north-western parts 
of Warwickshire, nearest to Staffordshire, were once 
covered with wood, and were known by the name of Ar- 
den, from a British or Celtic word implying Woodlands. 
There are still towns, such as Hampton in Arden and 
Henley in Arden, which seem to support this suppo- 
sition. The iron of Staffordshire required, for its 
smelting, the wood of Warwickshire ; and thus the two 
met, as at a centre, at Birmingham, Dudley, Wednes- 
bury, Tipton, and Walsall. Birmingham is not itself 
situated in the iron district ; but occupying the mar- 
gin of the two regions just indicated, we arrive at 
something like a means ot accounting for the location 
of manufactures in metal in these quarters. 

In former times the iron-ore was not smelted on the 
spot where it was procured, from the gradual exhaus- 
tion of the wood required for the charcoal employed in 
the smelting. It was carried, partly on horses' backs 
and partly by other means, to places more favourable 
for the smelting. But now all this is at an end. The 
material accompanying the iron-ore is found to be ade- 
quate to the smelting ; and a circle of five or six miles 
radius, drawn around the town of Tipton as a centre, 
would be found to include an extraordinary number 
of establishments wherein the iron-ore is dug from the 
mine, the coal also procured, the coal converted into 
coke, and the iron-ore smelted by the aid of the coke 
thus produced. In order to understand the effect of 
these arrangements on the surrounding district, it may 
be well briefly to explain the extent and position of 
the mineral treasures. We have in former volumes 
so fully explained the operations connected with the 
smelting of iron, that a very few details will suffice to 
illustrate our present object. 

Over an area of about ninety square miles, in that 
part of Staffordshire immediately north-west of Bir- 
mingham, extends the Staffordshire * Coal-field ;' the 
strata of coal and of iron-stone occurring pretty nearly 
in every part, interspersed here and there by beds of 
different earths, such as clay, rock, sand, &c. The 
most remarkable strata of coal have distinctive names, 
by which they are known to the miners and workmen : 
thus the • ten-yard coal * alludes to a seam or stratum 
about thirty feet in thickness. This is deemed a very 
rich and valuable bed of coal, and extends over the 
southern half of the district : it becomes thinner by 
degrees, and * crops out,' or comes to the surface, near 
Bilston. Northward of this point, as far as Rugeley, 
a thinner stratum of coal is found. The general ' dip ' 
or inclination of the strata is south and north ; but many 
irregularities and disturbances of direction occur. 
Near Rugeley a * four-yard bed * is worked at a depth 
of a hundred yards below the surface ; southward of 
Wednesbury the pits are stated to be on an average 
an equal depth to the former; near West Brom- 
wich and Oldbury, a hundred and thirty yards ; at and 
near Wednesbury, forty or fifty yards ; while at one 
spot near Wolverhampton the coal comes so near the 
surface, as to be procured in an open cutting, without 
any subterranean operations. Such are the diversi- 



ties in the position of the coal, and such the mode in 
which the miners must follow it. Whatever quirks 
and turns the bed of coal takes, thither do the miners 
follow it with their pickaxe ; slanting upwards, slant- 
ing downwards, or branching out laterally, as the case 
may be. A shaft is sunk from the surface of the 
ground to the level of the coal-bed, generally at 
such a spot that the coals, as cut away from the bed, 
may have a downward path towards the shaft. If it be 
the ' ten-yard coal,' the operations of the miners arc 
tolerably straight forward, gunpowder and the pick- 
axe enabling him to detach mass after mass of the 
mineral treasure ; but if the bed or seam of coal be 
thin, it is extraordinary to conceive how the miner 
can insinuate his body, in a working attitude too, in 
such small apertures. The recent Report of the Par- 
liamentary Committees on Mines and Collieries gives 
us some striking information on this point. 

Passing from the coal to the iron, we find that this 
comes from an ore denominated • clay-iron-stone,' a 
mixture of iron, clay, and other substances, in which 
the iron is a more or less abundant ingredient, ac- 
cording to the richness of the specimen. It accom- 
panies the coal, in greater or less quantities, throughout 
the whole district; being found in some strata in con- 
tinuous beds, and in others taking the form of balls 
or lumps distributed among the clayey and other 
deposits. It is situated, geologically, both above and 
below the * ten-yard coal ;' and when found in beds or 
seams, it is known by the miners under the names of 

* blue flats,' ' blue clist,' and ' white stone.' When it 
occurs in balls or lumps, these are found imbedded in 
clayey earth of considerable hardness, designated, ac- 
cording to its varieties in quality, by the odd names 
of • church,* ' binds,' • iron-stone-bearer,' • penny-earth,' 

• gubbin-stonc,' 'poor robin,* &c. The iron-ore is 
usually closely accompanied by coal in the mine ; and 
it is generally extracted after the coal has been re- 
moved. It is detached in small masses by the pick- 
axe, much in the same manner as coal; but the 
extraction is often more difficult, owing to the thinness 
of the seam. A miner will often carry on his opera- 
tions in a seam only two feet in height, into which he 
will insinuate his body and his working tools. 

These are the two minerals, the preparation of which 
on reaching the surface of the ground gives rise to the 
remarkable appearance which this part of Stafford- 
shire presents at night. The coke-ovens, or rather 
coke-hills, and the iron-furnaces, are the scenes of the 
fire and flame and smoke which meet the travellers 
eye while passing over — say from Birmingham towards 
Shropshire, or from Kidderminster through Dudley 
towards Lichfield. These coke-hills are structures ot 
which we know nothing near London. Our manufac- 
turers make coke in close chambers, such as ovens or 
retorts; but in Staffordshire, whether it be to save 
expense, or whether the Staffordshire coal requires a 
method of coking different from that which is observed 
in respect of the coal used near London, the coal is 
coked out in the open air. Near the furnace, in a 
spot of ground kept vacant for the purpose, the coal 
is heaped up in a form somewhat resembling that of a 
bee-hive, of large dimensions, and then set on fire ; 
the top is covered with a layer of clay or other earthy 
substance, which will prevent the coal from bursting 
out too briskly into flame, and will cause it to smoulder 
till it assumes the form of coke. When a number of 
these hills are watched from a distance, we see smoke 
emanating from them in abundance, and, here and 
there a flickering flame, when anything occurs to dis- 
turb the clay coating on the surface. 

These coke-hills constitute one source of the glare 
which the district presents, a never-ending series of 
coking operations being carried on. Another source 



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is that ,of the iron-furnaces, from whose summits a 
lofty pillar of flame repeatedly ascends. These fur- 
naces are bulky brick structures, capable of containing 
a vast quantity of material procured from the mines. 
The iron-ore and the coke, together with some third 
substance, such as limestone, to act as a flux, are all 
put into these furnaces, where they are kindled. Day 
and night, Sunday and week-day, in rain and in sun- 
shine, does this continue; the ingredients being thrown 
in at the top of the furnace, the iron being separated 
from the earths by the effect of heat, and the melted 
metal flowing out at stated intervals from openings in 
the bottom of the furnace. In London, where all ex- 
cept a small number of factories cease smoking at 
night, we have hardly a conception of the startling 
effect which these ever-burning furnaces present, es- 
pecially at those hours when darkness would other- 
wise prevail around. Perhaps the coach-road from 
Birmingham to Wolverhampton is that which affords 
to a night traveller the most remarkable and numerous 
examples of this kind, having the districts around Old- 
bury, Dudley, Tipton, and Sedgeley, in the south, and 
those around Wednesbury, Walsall, and Bilston, on the 
north. 

There is yet another source of the flickering flames 
so often alluded to. In some of the iron-works where 
casting or founding is executed, the metal is melted in 
lofty furnaces, open, or partially open, at the top ; or 
rather the flame from the fire beneath often ascends to 
the top of the chimney, and thus presents a vivid ob- 
ject visible from a great distance. 

The appearance of the district by day is very accu- 
rately described by Mr. Hawkes Smith, in his • Bir- 
mingham and its Vicinity.* After speaking of the 
clouds of smoke, the bulky furnaces, and the tall 
chimneys which meet the visitor's gaze, he proceeds : — 
" Here and there he sees protruded the mighty arm of 
the giant of art, the potent steam-engine, whirling the 
heavy fly which regulates the motion of the whole 
attached machinery ; while the sky is crossed by the 
light tracery of wheels and ropes adapted to the pur- 
poses of the mines, both right and left of the moving- 
power. The prospect, where the view is not impeded 
oy the flat-topped mountainous ridges of cinder, is 
varied by numerous clustering hamlets, or assemblages 
of 8 mall houses, the habitations of the countless la- 
bourers and others called into activity by the neigh- 
bouring * Works;' interspersed here and there with 
modern mansions of superior pretension oddly placed ; 
or with dwellings of a still less congruous character, 
curious specimens of fretted brick-work, embroidered 
chimney-stacks, and chevroned gables ; or black and 
white timbered grange-houses, the relics of an agri- 
cultural age, invaded by the encroachments of smoke 
and bustle, — all intermixed with a moderate supply of 
green or greenish fields, dotted occasionally with sooty 
sheep or cattle. Canals, with all their appurtenances, 
intersect the region in every direction, and strange 
noises from every quarter are wafted to the ear." 

Those who have visited inns and private bouses 
within ten or twenty miles of the district now under 
notice, may have remarked the huge cheerful blazing 
fires of Staffordshire — coal everywhere to be found. 
Fuel is procurable at a price which may well excite 
the envy of a Londoner ; and we see the effects of this 
cheapness in the kind of fiies kept up in the dwellings. 

It may be well to remark that in using the term 
* 4 South Staffordshire," we employ one which expresses 
the name of the district more correctly than any other. 
But, in truth, it is not easy to say what county we 
are in while traversing it ; for Warwickshire, Stafford- 
shire, Worcestershire, and Shropshire intertwine so 
greatly at this part, and there are so many outlying 
patches, wholly detached frum the counties to which 



they nominally belong, that we may change our county 
three or lour times in the course of a few miles' walk. 
Birmingham is in Warwickshire ; Oldbury and Hales- 
owen in Shropshire ; Dudley and Stourbridge are in 
Worcestershire ; and Wolverhampton, Walsall, Wed- 
nesbury, and Tipton in Staffordshire. And yet all these 
towns are within a circle of six miles radius. Even in 
the short distance from Birmingham to Dudley (seven 
miles in a straight line) we quit Warwickshire, pass 
into Staffordshire, thence to Oldbury in Shropshire, 
then a second time into Staffordshire, and end at Dudley 
in Worcestershire. 



PUBLIC REFRESHMENTS. 

Dining. — From ' London.' 

The fortunes of Roderick Random and his companion 
Strap show that, in Smollett's time, there were cellars 
in London attended as eating-houses, down which 
many a man was wont to " dive for a dinner." When 
Roderick and Strap arrived in London, and had taken 
a cheap and obscure lodging near St. Martin's Lane, 
they asked their landlord where they could procure a 
dinner. He told them that there were eating-houses 
for well-dressed people, and cellars for those whose 
purses were somewhat of the lightest. Roderick said 
that the latter would better suit the circumstances oi 
himself and his companion ; whereupon the landlord 
undertook to pilot them to one of these cellars : — •' He 
accordingly carried us to a certain lane, where stop- 
ping, he Did us observe him, and do as he did ; and, 
walking a few paces, dived into a cellar, and disap- 
peared in an instant I followed his example, and 
descended very successfully, where I found myself in 
the middle of a cook's-shop, almost suffocated with the 
steams of boiled beef, ana surrounded by a company 
consisting chiefly of hackney-coachmen, chairmen, 
draymen, and a lew footmen out of place or on board- 
wages, who sat eating shin-of-beef, tripe, cow-heel, or 
sausages, at separate boards, covered with cloths which 
turned my stomach. While I stood in amaze, unde- 
termined whether to sit down or walk upwards again, 
Strap, in his descent, missing one of the steps, tumbled 
headlong into this infernal ordinary, and overturned 
the cook as she was carrying a porringer of soup to 
one of the guests. In her fall she dashed the whole 
mess against the legs of a drummer belonging to the 
foot-guards, who happened to be in her way. : ' How 
the drummer swore, and the cook rubbed his le£ with 
salt, and Roderick recommended the substitution of 
oil, and how Strap made his peace by paying for the 
soup and treating the drummer, need not be told. The 
cook s-shop in the cellar is sufficiently depicted. 

It is probable that itinerant piemen, sucn as Hogarth 
gives to the life, have for centuries formed one class 
of London characters, and that various other eatables, 
and drinkables too, have been vended about in a simi- 
lar manner, time out of mind ; but by what steps the 
modern cook's-shop, or eating-house, has reached its 
present condition, it is not perhaps easy to say. There 
are, it appears, about two hundred places in London 
which can fittingly come under the denomination of 
eating-houses, occupying a place between the hotels 
on the one hand and the coffee-rooms on the other. 
At all of these places joints of meat are dressed every 
day, depending for variety on the extent of business 
done, but generally including boiled beef and roast 
beef, as well as the necessary appendages for the for- 
mation of a dinner. In some of these houses the quan- 
tity of meat dressed in a week is quite enormous ; and 
it seems pretty evident that the greater the sale the 
better the quality of the articles sold— or perhaps 
we may take it in an inverse order, that the excellence 
of the provisions lias led to the extent of the custom. 



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Some of these dining-rooms are the scenes of bustle 
during only a few hours of the day; while others, 
either from the extent of their trade or the different 
classes of their visitors, present a never-ceasing pic- 
ture of eating and drinking. Some, such as a cele- 
brated house in Bishopsgate-street, are frequented al- 
most entirely by commercial men and City clerks, who, 
during a few hours in the day, flock in by hundreds. 
Then again others, such as Williams's boiled-beef shop 
in the Old Bailey, and a few in the neighbourhood or 
Lincoln's Inn Fields, are frequented almost entirely by 
lawyers' clerks, witnesses, and others engaged in the 
law or criminal courts. In all such places there is a 
" best" room for those whose purses are tolerably sup- 
plied ; and a more humble room, generally nearer to 
the street, for such as can afford only a "sixpenny 
plate." Again, on going farther westward, we find 
in the neighbourhood of Covent Garden and the Hay- 
market dining-rooms in great plenty, the visitants at 
which are altogether of a different class. Here we 
may see actors, artists, paragraph-makers, and fo- 
reigners, most of whom seem in much less haste than 
the City diners. In this quarter of the town there are 
many French restaurateurs, whose rooms present the 
agreeable variety of ladies dining without any restraint 
from the observation of the male visitors. 

It is observable that in some houses the waiter gives 
the diner a long detail of the good things which are 
*' just ready," while in others there is a printed bill of 
fare placed before him. The latter is certainly the 
most systematic method ; for, by the time the nimble 
waiter has got through his speech, we almost forget 
the first items to which he directed attention. In the 
•' bill of fare " all the dishes customarily prepared at 
the house are printed in certain groups, and the prices 
are written opposite those which are to be had hot on 
any particular day, so that a customer can at once see 
what provisions are ready, and how much he shall 
have to pay for them* In the opposite case, where the 
visitor knows nothing of the matter but what the 
waiter tells him, the routine of proceedings may be 
thus sketched : — The guest, perhaps a man of business 
who has but little time to spare for his dinner, enters 
the room, takes the first seat he can find (the one 
nearest the fire in cold weather), takes off his hat, and 
asks for the ' Times ' or the • Chronicle/ While he is 
glancing his eye rapidly over the daily news, the active 
tidy waiter, with a clean napkin on his left arm, comes 
to his side, and pours into his ear, in a rapid but mo- 
notonous tone, some such narrative as the following: 
— " Roast beef, boiled beef, roast haunch of mutton, 
boiled pork, roast veal and ham, salmon and shrimp- 
sauce, pigeon-pie, rump-steak pudding." The visitor 
is perhaps deep in the perusal of " Spanish Scrip " or 
44 Colombian Bonds," or some other newspaper intel- 
ligence, and the waiter is obliged to repeat his cata- 
logue ; but, generally speaking, the order is quickly 
given and quickly attended to. A plate of roast beef, 
which may be taken as a standard of comparison, is 
charged for at these places at prices varying from 4d. 
to 10rf., generally from 6cL to 8d. ; and other articles 
are in a corresponding ratio. When the meat and ve- 
getables have disappeared, the nimble waiter is at your 
elbow, to ask whether pastry or cheese is wanted ; and 
when the visitor is about to depart, the waiter adds 
up, with characteristic rapidity, the various items con- 
stituting the bill. *' Meat &/., potatoes \d. t bread lrf., 
cheese Id.," &c, are soon summed up ; the money is 
paid, and the diner departs. 

At the alamode-beef houses the routine is still more 
rapid. Here a visitor takes his Beat, and the waiter 
places before him a knife, a fork, and a spoon ; and 
gives him the choice among sundry lumps of bread 
kept in an open basket. Meanwhile the visitor asks 



for a " sixpenny plate ;" and it may happen that two 
other customers ask at the same time, the one for a 
sixpenny and the other for a fourpenny plate. Out 
goes the waiter, calling, in a quick tone, for "two 
sixes and a four ;" a brevity which is perfectly well 
understood by those who are to lade out the soup from 
the cauldron wherein it is prepared. Presently he re- 
turns with a pile of pewter-plates, containing the " two 
sixes and a four," and places them before the diners. 

There is a lower class of soup-houses, where persons 
to whom sixpence is even too much for a dinner may 
obtain wherewithal to dine. Whoever has had to walk 
through Broad-street, St. Giles's, or down the northern 
side of Holborn-hill, may have seen shops, in the win- 
dows of which a goodly array of blue and white basins 
is displayed, and from which emanate abundant clouds 
of odour-giving steam. Around the windows, too, a 
crowd of hungry mortals assemble on a cold day, and 
partake Tin imagination) of the enticing things within. 
A poor fellow, ail in tatters, with a countenance which 
speaks strongly of privation, gazes eagerly through 
the window at what is going on within, and thinkB 
how rich a man must be who can afford to pay two- 
pence or threepence for " a basin of prime soup, po- 
tatoes, and a slice of bread ;" — for it is at some such 
charge as this that the viands are sold. 

The "chop-houses" in the City form a class by 
themselves. They are neither eating-houses nor ta- 
verns, nor do they belong to classes hereafter to be 
noticed. The solid food here to be procured is chiefly 
in the form of a steak or a chop, with such small ap- 
pendages as are necessary to form a meal. There is 
no hot joint from which a guest may have a "six- 
penny M or a " ninepenny " plate ; nor are there the 
various dishes which fill up tne bill of fare at a dining- 
room. Every guest knows perfectly well what he can 
procure there. If a chop or a steak will suffice, he 
can obtain it; if not, he goes to some house where 
greater variety is provided. With his chop he can 
have such liquor aa his taste may prefer. There are 
some of these houses which have been attended by one 
generation afier another of guests, comprising mer- 
chants, bankers, and commercial men of every grade. 
The portrait of the founder, or a favourite waiter, may 
perhaps be seen over the fireplace in the best room ; 
and the well-rubbed tables, chairs, and benches tell of 
industry oft repeated. Sometimes the older houses 
exhibit a waiter who has gone through his daily routine 
for half a century. There is a dingy house in a court 
in Fleet-street wnere the chops and steaks are unri- 
valled. Who that has tasted there that impossible 
thing of private cookery — a hot mutton-chop, a second 
brought when the first is despatched — has not pleasant 
recollections of the never-ending call to the cook of 
" Two muttons to follow ? " 

Many houses have what is termed in France a table- 
d'hote, or in England an ordinary; that is, a dinner 
ready for all comers at a fixed hour in the day, and at 
a fixed charge. The host determines on the choice of 
good things to constitute the bill of fare ; and the diner 
partakes of such as may best accord with his palate. 
Some of these places are attended day after day by 
nearly the same persons, while others see a constant 
succession of new faces. There is one such house 
near or in Billingsgate, celebrated for the excellence 
of the fish* which forms a component part of the cheer ; 
and which is, on this account, much frequented 
by the connoisseurs in fish. A public-house (really 
one) in a street near Covent Garden has an ordinary of 
three courses, which the lovers of economical good eat- 
ing, who cannot dine without fish and pastry, delight 
to haunt. But there are few of these. The ordinaries 
of the days of Elizabeth have left few successors. 



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SIR ROd Eft 

The bomour of Ad< 
of Sir Roger's chapl 
rag specimen of 
clergyman of the & 
vast amount of tet 

Suite 8b much pit 
wire. 
** My chief companion, wnen oir noger is diverting 
himself in the woods or the fields; is a very venerable 
man who fa ever with Sir Roger, and has lived at his 
house in the nature df a chaplain above thirty years. 
This gentleman is a person of £ood sense aild'some 
learning, of a very regular life and obliging conversa- 
tion : he heartily ldves Sir Roger, and knows that he is 
very mnch in the old knight's esteem, sd that he lives 
in the family rather as a relation than a dependant. 

• I have observed in several of mf papers that my 
friend Sir Roger, amidst ail his good qualities, is 
something of a humourist : and that his virtues as well 
as imperfections are, as it were, tinged by a certain 
extravagance, which makes them particularly his, and 
distinguishes them from those Of other men. This cast 
of mind, as it is generally very innocent in itself, so it 
renders his conversation highly agreeable and more 
delightful than the same degree of sense and virtue 
vould appear in their common and ordinary colours. 
As I was walking with him last night, he asked me 
how I liked the good man whom I have just now men- 



No. 



698. 



tioned j and without staying for my answer, told me 
that he was afraid of being insulted with Latin and 
Greek at hid own table ; for which reason he desired a 
particular friend of his at the university to find him 
out a clergyman rather of plain sense than much learn- 
ing, df a good aspect, a clear voice, a sociable temper, 
and, if passible, a man that understood a little of back- 
gammon. * My friend,' says Sir Roger, 'found me out 
this gentleman, who, besides the endowments required 
of him, is, they tell me, a good scholar, though he does 
ribtshow it. I have given him the parsonage of the 
parish ; and, because I know his value, have settled 
Upon him a gotid annuity for life. If he outlives me* 
he shall find that he was higher in my esteem than per- 
haps he thinks he is. He has now been with me thirty 
years; and though he docs not know I have taken 
notice of it, has never in all that time asked anything 
of me for himself, though he is every day soliciting 
me for something in behalf of one or other of my 
tenants his parishioners. There has not been a law- 



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suit in the parish since he has lived amcng them ; if 
any dispute arises, they apply themselves to him for 
the decision ; it' they do not acquiesce in his judgment, 
which I think never happened above once or twice at 
most, they appeal to me. At his first settling with me. 
I made him a present of all the good sermons which 
have been printed in English, and only begged of him 
thti-'every Sunday he would pronounce one of them in 
the pulpit. Accordingly he has digested them into 
such a scries that they follow one another naturally, 
and make a continued system of practical divinity." 

The Spectator goes to church, and hears "the 
Bishop ot St. Asaph in the morning, and Dr. South in 
the afternoon ;" that is, he hears the chaplain read a 
sermon from Fleetwood's and South's printed collections. 
He says, " I was so charmed with the gracefulness of 
his figure and delivery, as well as with the discourses 
he pronounced, that I think I never passed any time 
more to my satisfaction." This is to speak of a ser- 
mon as he would of a play ; which was indeed very 
much the temper of the Spectator's age. He recom- 
mends to the country clergy not " to waste their spirits 
in laborious compositions of their own ;" but to enforce 
" by a handsome elocution " those discourses " which 
have been penned by great masters." Whether the 
advice be judicious or not is scarcely necessary to be 
discussed. There is something higher to he attained 
by preaching than enabling a listener to pass his time 
to his satisfaction ; but something even worse may be 
effected by cold, incoherent, and dull preaching — 
drowsiness under the shadow of high pews. 

Sir Roger's picture gallery is an interesting portion 
of his ancient mansion. Tnere is one picture in it 
which has reference to his own personal history : — 

44 At the very upper end of this handsome structure 
I saw the portraiture of two young men standing in a 
river, the one naked, the other in a livery. The per- 
son supported seemed half dead, but still so much alive 
as to show in his face exquisite joy and love towards 
the other. I thought the fainting figure resembled 
iny friend Sir Roger ; and looking at the butler, who 
stood by me, for an account of it, he informed me that 
the person in the livery was a servant of Sir Roger's, 
who stood on the shore while his master was swim- 
ming, and observing him taken with some sudden ill- 
ness, and sink under water, jumped in and saved him. 
lie told me Sir Roger took off the dress he was in as 
soon as he came home, and by a great bounty at that 
time, followed by his favour ever since, had made him 
master of that pretty seat which we saw at a distance 
as we came to his house. I remembered, indeed, Sir 
Roger said, there lived a very worthy gentleman, to 
whom he was highly obliged, without mentioning any- 
thing further. Upon my looking a little dissatisfied at 
some part of the picture, my attendant informed me 
that it was against Sir Roger's will, and at the earnest 
request of the gentleman himself, that he was drawn 
in the habit in which he had saved his master." 

But the gallery is chiefly filled with the portraits of 
the old De Coverleys. There we have the knight in 
buff of the days of Elizabeth, who won *■ a maid of 
honour, the greatest beauty of her time," in a tourna- 
ment in the tilt-yard. The spendthrift of the next 
generation — the fine gentleman who "ruined every- 
body that had anything to do with him, but never said 
a rude thing in his life," is drawn at full-length, with 
his " little boots, laces, and slashes." But the real old 
English country gentleman, who kept his course of 
honour in evil times— in days of civil commotion, and 
afterwards in a period of court profligacy — is a cha- 
racter which we ti ust will never be obsolete : — 

"This man (pointing to him I looked at) I take to 
be the honour of our house, Sir Humphry de Cover- 
ley : he was in his dealings as punctual as a trades- 



man, and as generous as a gentleman. He would 
have thought himself as much undone by breaking his 
word, as if it were to be followed by bankruptcy. He 
served his country as knight of the shire to his dying 
day. He found it no easy matter to maintain an in- 
tegrity in his words and actions, even in things that re- 
garded the offices which were incumbent upon him in 
the care of his own affairs and relations of life, and 
therefore dreaded (though he had great talents) to go 
into employments of state, where he must be exposed 
to the snares of ambition. Innocence of life and great 
ability were the distinguishing parts of .his character ; 
the latter, he had often observed, had led to the de- 
struction of the former, and he used frequently to la- 
ment that great and good had not the same significa- 
tion. He was an excellent husbandman, but had re- 
solved not to exceed such a degree of wealth; all 
above it he bestowed in secret bounties many years 
after the sum he aimed at for his own use was attained. 
Yet he did not slacken his industry, but to a decent 
old age spent the life and fortune which were super- 
fluous to himself in the service of his friends and 
neighbours." 

The ghosts which used to haunt Sir Roger's man- 
sion were laid, even in his time, by a good orthodox 
process : — 

44 My friend Sir Roger has often told me, with a 
great deal of mirth, that at his first coming to his es- 
tate he found three parts of his house altogether use- 
less ; that the best room in it had the reputation of 
being haunted, and by that means was locked up ; 
that noises had been heard in his long gallery, so that 
he could not get a servant to enter it after eight o'clock 
at night ; that the door of one of his chambers Mas 
nailed up, because there went a story in the family 
that a butler had formerly hanged himself in it ; and 
that his mother, who lived to a great age, had shut up 
half the rooms in the house, in which either her hus- 
barflffa son, or daughter had died. The knight, see- 
ing his habitation reduced to so small a compass, and 
himself in a manner shut out of his own house, upon 
the death of his mother ordered all the apartments to 
be flung open, and exorcised by his chaplain, who lay 
in every room one after another, and by that means 
dissipated the fears which had so long reigned in the 
family." 

But the belief in apparitions was not passed away. 
The haunted ruins are described by Addison with his 
usual grace : — 

"At a little distance from Sir Roger's house, among 
the ruins of an old abbey, there is a long walk of aged 
elms, which are shot up so very high, that when one 
passes under them, the rooks and crows that rest upon 
the tops of them seem to be cawing in another region. 
I am very much delighted with this sort of noise, which 
I consider as a kind of natural prayer to that Being 
who supplies the wants of his own creation, and who, 
in the beautiful language of the Psalms, feedeth the 
young ravens that call upon him. I like this retire- 
ment the better, because of an ill report it lies under 
of being haunted ; for which reason (as I have been 
told in the family) no living creature ever walks in it 
besides the chaplain. My good friend the butler de- 
sired me, with a very grave face, not to venture my- 
self in it after sunset, for that one of the footmen had 
been almost frighted out of his wits by a spirit that 
appeared to him in the shape of a black horse without 
a head ; to which he added, that about a month ago 
one of the maids, coming home late that way with a 
pail of milk upon her head, heard such a rustliDg 
among the bushes that she let it fall." 



[To be continued ] 



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ESSAYS ON THE LIVES OF REMARKABLE 
PAINTERS.— No. II. 

Giovanni Cimabuk — (concluded). 
Giovanni of Florence, of the noble family of the 
Cimabue, called otherwise Gualtieri, was born in 1240. 
He was early sent by his parents to study grain- 
mar in the school of the convent of Santa Maria 
Novella, where (as is also related of other inborn 
painters), instead of conning his task, he distracted his 
teachers by drawing men, horses, buildings, on his 
school-books : before printing was invented, this spoil- 
ing of school-books must have been rather a costly 
fancy, and no doubt alarmed the professors of Greek 
and Latin. His parents, wisely yielding to the natural 
bent of his mind, allowed him to study painting under 
some Greek artist who had come to Florence to decorate 
the church of the convent in which he was a scholar. It 
seems doubtful whether Cimabue did study under 
these identical painters alluded to by Vasari, but that 
his masters and models were the Byzantine painters of 
the time seems to admit of no doubt whatever. The 
earliest of his works mentioned by Vasari still exists— 
a St. Cecilia, painted for the altar of that saint, but 
now preserved in the church of San Stefano. He was 
soon afterwards employed by the monks of Vallom- 
brosa, for whom he painted a Madonna with Angels on 
a gold ground, now preserved in the Academy of the 
Fine Arts at Florence. He also painted a Crucifixion 
for the church of the Santa Croce, still to be seen 
there, and several pictures for the churches of Pisa, to 
the great contentment of the Pisans ; and by these and 
other works his fame being spread far and near, he was 
called in the year 1265. when he was only twenty-five, to 
finish the frescoes in the church of St. Francis at Assisi, 
which had been begun by Greek painters and con- 
tinued by Giunta Pisano. 

The decoration of this celebrated church is memor- 
able in the history of painting. It is known that many 
of the best artists of the thirteenth and fourteenth cen- 
turies were employed there, but only fragments of the 
earliest pictures exist, and the authenticity of those 
ascribed to Cimabue has been disputed by a great 
authority (Rumohr, ' Italienische Forschungen'). Lanzi, 
however, and Dr. Kugler, agree in attributing to him 
the paintings on the roof of the nave, representing, in 
medallions, the figures of Christ, the Nfadonna, St. 
John the Baptist, St. Francis, and the four Evangelists. 
" The ornaments which surround these medallions are, 
however, more interesting than the medallions them- 
selves. In the lower corners of the triangles are re- 
presented naked Genii bearing tasteful vases on their 
heads ; out of these grow rich foliage and flowers, on 
which hang other Genii, who pluck the fruit or lurk in 
the cups of the flowers." (Kugler.) If these are 
really by the hand of Cimabue, we must allow that 
here is a great step in advance of the formal mono- 
tony of his Greek models. He executed many other 
pictures in this famous church, " con diligenza infinita," 
from the Old and the New Testament, in which, judging 
from the fragments which remain, he showed a decided 
improvement in drawing, in dignity of attitude, and 
in the expression of life, but still the figures have only 
just so much of animation and significance as are abso- 
lutely necessary to render the story or action intelli- 
gible. There is no variety, no express imitation of 
nature. Being recalled by his affairs to Florence, 
about 1270, he painted there the most celebrated of all 
his works, the Madonna and Infant Christ, for the 
church of Santa Maria Novella. This Madonna, of a 
larger size than any which had been previously exe- 
cuted, had excited in its progress great curiosity and 
interest among his fellow-citizens, for Cimabue re- 
fused to uncover it to public view : but it happened 
about that time that Charles of Anjou, brother of Louis 



IX., being on his way to take possession of the king- 
dom of Naples, passed through Florence, and was 
received and feasted by the nobles of that city ; and 
among other entertainments, they conducted him to 
visit the atelier of Cimabue, which was in a garden 
near the Porta San Piero : on this festive occasion 
the Madonna was uncovered, and the people in joyous 
crowds hurried thither to look upon it, rending the 
air with exclamations of delight and astonishment, 
whence this quarter of the city obtained and has kept 
ever since the name of the ' Borgo Allegri. 1 The Ma- 
donna, when finished, was carried in great pomp from 
the atelier of the painter to the church for which it 
was destined, accompanied by the magistrates of the 
city, by music, and by crowds of people in solemn and 
festive procession. This well-known anecdote has lent 
a venerable charm to the picture, which is yet to be 
seen in the church of Santa Maria Novella; but it 
is difficult in this advanced state of ait to sympathise in 
the naive enthusiasm it excited in the minds of a whole 
people six hundred years ago. Though not without 
a certain grandeur, the form is very stiff, with long 
lean fingers, and formal drapery, little varying from 
the Byzantine models ; but the Infant Christ is better, 
the angels on either side have a certain elegance and 
dignity, and the colouring in its first freshness and • 
delicacy had a charm hitherto unknown. After this 
Cimabue became famous in all Italy. He had a school 
of painting at Florence and many pupils, among them 
one who was destined to take the sceptre from his hand 
and fill all Italy with his fame — and who, bui for him, 
would have kept sheep in the Tuscan valleys all his 
life — the glorious Giotto, of whom we are to speak pre- 
sently. Cimabue, besides being a painter, was a 
worker in mosaic and an architect : he was employed, 
in conjunction with Arnolfo Lani, in the building of 
the church of Santa Maria dell' Fiore at Florence. 
Finally, having lived for more than sixty years in great 
honour and renown, he died at Florence about the 
year 1302, while employed on the mosaics of the Duo- 
ino of Pisa, and was carried from his house in the Via 
del Cocomero to the church of Santa Maria dell' Fiore, 
where he was buried : the following epitaph was in- 
scribed above his tomb : — 

" CREDID1T UT ClMABOS PICTURE CASTRA TF.NERK J 
SlC TENU1T VI YENS — NUNC TENET ASTRA POLI."* 

Besides the undoubted works of Cimabue preserved 
in the churches of San Domenico, la Trinita, and Santa 
Maria Novella at Florence, and in the Academy of 
Arts in the same city, there arc two Madonnas in the 
Gallery of the Louvre (Nos. 950, 951), recently brought 
there; one as large as life, with angels, originally 
painted for the convent of S. Francis at Pisa, the other 
of a smaller size. From these productions we may judge 
of the real merit of Cimabue. In his figures of the 
Virgin he adhered almost servilely to the Byzantine 
models. The faces are ugly and vapid ; the features 
elongated ; the extremities meagre ; the general effect 
flat: but to his heads of prophets, patriarchs, and 
apostles, whether introduced into his great pictures of 
the Madonna or in other sacred subjects, ne gave a 
certain grandeur of expression and largeness of form, 
or, as Lanzi expresses it, " un non so che di forte e sub- 
lime," in which he has not been greatly surpassed by 
succeeding painters; and this energy of expression — 
his chief and distinguishing excellence, and which gave 
him the superiority over Guido of Sienna and others 
who painted only Madonnas — Mas in harmony with 
his personal character. He is described to us as ex- 
ceedingly haughty and disdainful, of a fiery tempcra- 

* Cimabue thought himself master of the field of painting : 
While living, he was so— now, he holds his place among the 
stars of heaven. 



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me'it, proud of his high lineage, his skill in his art, and 
his various acquirements, for lie was well studied in all 
the literature of his age. If a critic found fault with 
one of his works when in progress, or if he were him- 
self dissatisfied with it, he would at once destroy it, 
whatever pains it might have cost him. From these 
traits of character, and the bent of his genius, which 
leaned to the grand and terrible rather than the gen- 
tle and graceful, he has subsequently been styled 
the Michael Angelo of his time. It is recorded of nim 
by Vasari, that he painted a head of St. Francis qfter 
nature, a thing, he says, till then unknown ; hut the 
earliest head after nature which remains to us was 
painted by Giunta Pisano, forty years before. It was 
the portrait of Frate Elia, a monk of Assisi. Perhaps 
Vasari means that the San Francesco was the first re- 
presentation of a sacred personage for which nature 
nad been taken as a model. 

The portrait of Cimabue prefixed to this essay (No. 
694) is copied from a tracing of the original head, 
painted on the walls of the Chanel degli Spagwioli, 
in the church of Santa Maria Novella, by Simone 
Memmi of Sienna, who was at Florence during the 
lifetime of Cimabue, and must have known him per- 
sonally. This painting, though executed after the 
death of Cimabue, has always been considered au- 
thentic as a portrait : it is the same alluded to by Va- 
sari, and copied for the first edition of his book. The 
composition beneath the portrait is copied from an en- 
graving, in the * Histoire de V Art par les Monumena,' 
of one of the frescoes in the church of Assisi which arc 
attributed to Cimabue. The subject is that which is 
commonly called "The Deposition from the Cross," 
representing the Saviour dead, sustained by Joseph of 
Arimathea and St. John, and bewailed by the Virgin 
and Mary Magdalen. The angels are taken from 
Cimabue'8 ' Madonna dei Angeli :' in the original 
picture there are three on each side, ranged one above 
another in a line, with no attempt at grouping, and 
little variety of expression. 

Cimabue had several remarkable cotemporaries. 
The greatest of these, and certainly the greatest artist 
of his time, was the sculptor Nicola Pisano. The 
works of this extraordinary genius which have been 
preserved to our time are so far beyond all contempo- 
rary art in knowledge of form, grace, expression, and 
intention, that, if indisputable proofs of their authen- 
ticity did not exist, it would be pronounced incredible. 
On a comparison of the works of Cimabue and Nicola 
Pisano, it is difficult to conceive that Nicola executed 
the bas-reliefs of the pulpit in the Cathedral of Pisa 
while Cimabue was painting the frescoes in the church 
of Assisi. He was the first to leave the stiff mo- 
notony of the traditional forms for the study of nature 
and the antique. The story says, that his emulative 
fancy was early excited by trie beautiful antique sarco- 
phagus on which is seen sculptured the Chase of Hi- 
polytus. In this sarcophagus had been laid, a hundred 
years before, the body of Beatrice, the mother of the 
famous Countess Matilda: in the time of Nicola it 
was placed, as an ornament, in the Duomo of Pisa ; 
and as a youth he had looked upon it from day to day, 
until the grace, the life and movement of the figures 
struck him, in comparison with the barbarous art of 
his cotemporaries, as nothing less than divine. Many 
before him had looked on this marble wonder, but to 
none had it spoken as it spoke to him. He was the 
first, says Lanzi, to see the light and to follow it.* 
There is an engraving after one of his bas-reliefs — a 
Deposition from the Cross, in Ottley's • School of De- 

* Rosini, in hi* 'Storia della Pittura,' has rectified some 
errors into which Vasari and Lanzi hare fallen with regard to 
the dates of Nicola Pisano's works — it appears that be lived 
and worked so late as 1290. 



sign,' which should be referred to by the reader, who 
may not have Been his works at Pisa, Florence, Sienna, 
and Ovieto. 

Another cotemporary of Cimabue, and his friend, 
was Andrea Tafi, the greatest worker in mosaic of his 
time. The assertion of Vasari, that he learned his art 
from the Byzantines, is now discredited ; for it appears 
certain that the mosaic workers of Italy (the fore- 
runners of painting) excelled the Greek artists then, 
and for a century or two before. Andrea Tafi died, 
very old, in 1294; and his principal works remain in 
the Duomo of St. Mark at Venice, and in the church 
of San Giovanni at Florence. Another famous 
mosaic- worker, also an intimate friend of Cimabue, 
was Gaddo Gaddi — remarkable for being the first 
of a family illustrious in several departments of art 
and literature. It must be remembered that the mo- 
saic-workers of those times prepared and coloured 
their own designs, and may therefore take rank with 
the painters. 

Further, there remain pictures by painters of the 
Sienna School which date before the death of Cimabue, 
and particularly a picture by a certain Maestro Mino, 
dated 1289, which is spoken of as wonderful for the in- 
vention and greatness of style. Another painter, who 
sprung from the Byzantine School, and surpassed it, was 
Duccio of Sienna, who painted from 1282 (tu ?nty year* 
before the death of Cimabue) to about 1339, and «• whose 
influence on the progress of art was unquestionably 
great." A large picture by him, representing in many 
compartments the whole history of the Passion of 
Christ, is preserved at Sienna: it excited, like Cima- 
|)ue*s Madonna, the pride and enthusiasm of his fellow- 
citizens, and is still regarded as wonderful for the 
age in which it was produced. 

All these men (Nicola Pisano excepted) still worked 
on in the trammels of Byzantine art. The first pain- 
ter of his age who threw them wholly off, and left 
them far behind him, was Giotto. 



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MINING UNDER THE SEA. 

Among the remarkable circumstances connected with 
mining— an occupation which holds a place aloof from 
almost every other — few are more startling to a general 
reader than the carrying on of excavations beneath the 
sea. That a shaft should be sunk two, three, five, or 
twelve hundred feet deep, on the dry land, as a means 
of getting at the valuable mineral beneath, is in itself 
matter for wonder ; but that horizontal galleries should 
be worked from thence beneath the bed of the sea, 
seems an act of peculiar boldness. 

A few scattered notices are to be met with in the 
early writers, tending to show that the operations of 
mining were occasionally carried on so near the edge 
of the sea, or even under the bed of the sea, as to lead 
to inundations which have destroyed the mines them- 
selves. In our own country instances of an analogous 
kind are not rare. At the Huel Mine in Cornwall, 
some years back, a • lode, 1 or vein of metal, was fol- 
lowed by the pickaxe of the miner to such an extent 
under the bed of the sea, and the men, by working 
away too greedily at the roof of their mine, had reduced 
the thickness between it and the sea above so greatly, 
as to lead to fears of an awful disrupture ; and the 
workings in that direction were then stopped. At 
Whitehaven there are coal-mines which have lor many 
years been worked under the bed of the sea. 

Sometimes the irruption of water arises from a river 
instead of the open sea, according to the direction 
which the galleries of the mine take, and the thickness 
of earth between them and the water. Mr. Holland, 
in his * History of Fossil Fuel,' relates a signal instance 
of such an irruption. In 1833, while two gentlemen 
were fishing on the banks of the Garnock in Scotland, 
a slight disturbance was observed to take place in the 
current of the river, which they at first supposed to 
have been occasioned by the leap of a salmon ; but the 
gurgling motion which succeeded led them to conclude 
that the river had broken into the coal-mines which 
surrounded the place on which they stood. They im- 
mediately hastened to the nearest pit-mouth, gave an 
alarm, and measures were taken to succour the men 
below. The latter had heard the rushing of the water, 
and hastened to the shaft ; but before they had reached 
it, every one was immersed up to the neck in water. 
The manager of the works then tried a plan which Mr; 
Brunei has often adopted in the irruptions at the 
Thames Tunnel, viz., to endeavour to cover the cavity 
in the bed of the river with clay and other materials ; 
but the flood of water was too violent, and the stream 
continued to flow into the mine. At first the water 
entered the mine without much agitation at the surface ; 
but in the following day the orifice became greatly 
larger, and the whole body of water rushed in witn 
such fearful violence as to leave the bed of the river 
momentarily nearly dry for a mile on either side of 
the aperture ; and the fishes were Been leaping about 
in every direction. At the return of the tide a renewed 
body of water was supplied, which poured in as before, 
until the whole workings of the pits, which extended 
several miles, were completely rilled. The pressure 
in the pits became so great, from the immense weight 
of water impelled into them, that the confined air, 
which had been forced back into the high workings, 
burst through the surface of the earth in a thousand 
places ; and many acres of ground were to be seen all 
at once bubbling up like the boiling of a cauldron. 
Large bodies of sand and water were thrown up for 
hours together ; and the whole of the mining operations 
were stopped, by which six hundred persons were at 
once deprived of employment. 

But perhaps the most notable instance of submarine 
mining ever attempted was one in which the vein of 



worked mineral was not only under the bed of the sea, 
but the shaft was actually sunk in the sea itself! This 
was the Wherry tin-mine in Cornwall. Dr. Davy in 
his * Life of Sir Humphry Davy,' after detailing the 
circumstances under which the philosopher became 
acquainted with Mr. Gregory Watt (James Watt's son; 
at Penzance, and describing the rambles which they 
took together, says :— •' The Wherry Mine, the shaft of 
which was in the sea, approached by a long wooden 
bridge, and the workings of which were entirely under 
the sea, at the short distance of about a mile from Pen- 
zance, was a favourite place of resort with them. It 
afforded an unusual variety of minerals, and, from iis 
peculiarities, could not fail to excite a deep interest in 
their minds, as a struggle of art against nature, in 
which a victory was gained over the elements by means 
of the most wonderful invention of the age, the steam- 
engine, — which, only a short time before, had been 
perfected by the distinguished father, the elder Mr. 
Watt ; and this very engine, erected on the shore, 
acting at a distance over the surface of the sea, and 
drawing up water from beneath its bed, was one of the 
earliest that had been introduced into Cornwall." 

Mr. John Hawkins, in a paper in one of the early 
volumes of the Cornwall Geological Society's ' Tran- 
sactions/ gives an account of the origin and construc- 
tion of the Wherry Mine, so interesting as to rank it 
almost among the romance of mining. The first at- 
tempts to work this singular mine are said to have 
been made about the beginning of the last century, 
when, many small veins of tin being observed to tra- 
verse a rocky shoal which was exposed to view at low- 
water, some persons were induced to make it an object 
of mining adventure. How long they persevered in 
the enterprise, and what were the mechanical aids of 
which they availed themselves, are not known ; but the 
works, after being sunk to the depth of a very few 
fathoms in the rock, were finally abandoned. 

About the year 1778 a poor miner belonging to the 
parish of Breage, whose name was Thomas Curtis, had 
the boldness to renew the attempt, with a capital of 
only ten pounds at his command. The nature of the 
difficulties with which he had to contend may be judged 
from the following details : — The distance of the shoal 
from the neigbouring beach at high-water is about a 
hundred and twenty fathoms ; and this, in consequence 
of the shallowness of the beach, is not materially les- 
sened at low-water. It is calculated that the surface 
of the rock is covered about ten months iu twelve, and 
that the depth of water on it at spring-tides is nineteen 
feet. The prevailing winds occasion a very great surf 
even in summer ; but in winter the sea bursts over the 
rock in such a manner as to render all attempts to 
carry on mining operations unavailing. 

At such a spot did Curtis proceed to sink a mine. 
As the work could be prosecuted only during the short 
period of time when the rock appeared above water 
(a period which was still further abridged by the ne- 
cessity of previously emptying the excavation), three 
summers were consumed in sinking the pump-shaft, a 
work of mere bodily labour. The use of machinery 
then became practicable, and a frame of boards being 
applied to the mouth of the shaft, it was cemented to 
the rock by pitch and oakum, made water-tight in the 
same way, and carried up to a sufficient height above 
the highest spring-tide. To support this boarded 
turret, which was twenty feet high ahove the rock, and 
twenty-five inches square, against the violence of the 
surge, eight stout bars of iron were applied in an in- 
clined direction, four of them below, and four of ex- 
traordinary length and thickness above. A platform 
of boards was then lashed round the top of the turret, 
supported by four poles, which were firmly connected 



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with ihese rods. Lastly, upon this platform was fixed 
a windlass for four men. 

These difficult and slowly-conduc'.ed preparations 
being made, it was thought that the miners would be 
enabled to pursue their operations at all times, even 
during the winter months, whenever the weather was 
not particularly unfavourable ; but as soon as the ex- 
cavation was carried to some extent in a lateral direc- 
tion, this was found to be impossible, for the sea-water 
penetrated through the fissures of the rock, and in pro- 
portion as the workings became enlarged, the labour 
of raising the produce to the mouth of the shaft in- 
creased. Their predecessors, as well as themselves, 
had carried on their excavations too near the surface, 
which made the rock not only more permeable, but 
less able to resist the immense pressure of water at 
high tide, so that it became necessary to support it with 
large timbers. To add to this disappointment it was 
found impossible to prevent the water from forcing its 
way through the shaft during the winter months, or, on 
account of the swell and surf, to remove the tin-ore 
from the rock to the beach opposite. The whole 
winter, therefore, was a period of inaction, and it was 
not before April that the regular working of the mine 
could be resumed. Nevertheless, the short summer 
interval which was still allowed for labour below 
ground sufficed most richly to reward the bold and per- 
severing projector, and to give his mine the reputation 
of a very profitable adventure. 

Curtis, as has been before stated, commenced this 
daring undertaking with the support only of his own 
slender capital of a few pounds, but he appears soon 
to have been joined by others who brought money into 
the enterprise ; and Curtis seems never from the first 
to have entertained any doubt as to the ultimate success 
of his attempt. By the year 1791 the operations had 
reached the following extent : — The shaft was sunk to 
about twenty-six feet in the rock ; and the breadth of 
the workings was eighteen feet. The roof of the 
workings was brought within three or four feet of the 
water in some places. Twelve men were employed 
for two hours at the windlass in hauling up the water ; 
while six were working in the mine below, and the 
men afterwards worked for six hours on the rock, 
making eight hours in all. Thirty sacks of tin-ore 
were broken on an average every tide ; and ten men, 
in the space of six months, working about one-tenth 
of that time, procured about 600/. worth. Besides the 
small veins of tin which ran through this rock, its 
whole mass was impregnated with tin to such a degree, 
as to be worth the expense of raising. 

In 1792, Mr. Davies Gilbert, writing to Mr. Hawkins 
respecting this sea-girt mine, said : — " The course of 
stanniferous porphyry near Penzance (the Wherry) 
promises to make a very great mine. There are indi- 
cations of the tin being continued to a great extent in 
both directions, and the bottoms are growing longer, 
and remain rich. A house near the green, built with 
fragments of this stone, which were probably picked 
up on the shore, or broken from the top of the rock, is, 
I hear, to be pulled down and rebuilt with other stone, 
for the sake of its tin. An adventurer told me that 
three thousand pounds 1 worth of tin had been raised 
from this extraordinary mine in the course of this 
] resent summer." 

In a subsequent letter, the same gentleman stated 
that a steam-engine was at that time being erected on 
ihe adjacent shore, which was to be connected with the 
mine by a wooden bridge, to serve as a communication 
till the engine-shaft had been sunk sufficiently deep, 
and a drift worked out to the mine as a stage for 
supporting the working-rods. The bridge, thus con- 
structed, answered also the purpose of conveying the 
ore to the shore. 



Thus did this most singular mine continue to be 
worked, till it had yielded seventy thousand pounds' 
worth of tin-ore, when a period was put to its usefulness, 
almost as remarkable as the circumstances connected 
with its origin. An American vessel broke from its 
anchorage in Gwavas Lake (the name of a small bay 
or anchorage near Penzance), and striking against the 
stage constructed out in the sea on the shoal, demolished 
the machinery, filled the mine with water, and thus 
put an end to the adventure. 

Mr. Hawkins, in reflecting on this singular enter- 
prise, makes the following remarks : — " On a review 
of the improvements which have taken place in our 
machinery within the last forty years, I am inclined to 
think that the spirit of mining enterprise, to which 
they have imparted so much animation, will soon 
assume a character of still greater audacity. Perhaps 
when the veins are exhausted, which lie within the 
boundary of our sea-girt peninsula, we shall turn our 
attention to those which extend in the same direction 
beneath the bed of the ocean ; nor, when we consider 
the increasing depth of our mines, can that period be 
very distant. Our submarine works will then form 
a new epoch in the history of mining, and by calling 
forth still greater exertions of skill and industry, de- 
monstrate in a more striking manner the powers of 
the human intellect." 



ARTIZANS AND APPRENTICES, ON THE 
CONTINENT. 

In England, whatever may be the state of depression 
in which any branch of trade or manufacture is placed 
at an unfavourable period, the workmen still remain 
pretty constantly located in one spot They may be 
pinched by abject poverty, or may be reduced to only 
naif their wonted amount of wages, and we hear of 
their distresses, their complaints, their solicitations for 
relief, either political or social : but they rarely wander 
from town to town ; tl.ey have their associations and 
local attachments which induce them to cling to the 
familiar scenes of their life, even when they have little 
else to cling to. 

The general temperament of the people may bo 
adduced as one cause for this fixedness. The English 
are not so migratory as the Irish or the Scotch. The 
Irishman, in the labouring departments of life, and the 
Scotchman in almost every department, will leave his 
country to cam a living in a foreign place, peihaps to 
return and end his days in the country which gave him 
birth, perhaps to take up his permanent abode in the 
country of his adoption. The working-classes in 
England are not distinguished by this tendency. The 
Spitalfields weaver still continues in Spitalfields, let 
trade fall as it may ; he may be half-starved, or he may 
be dependent on the charity of benevolent persons ; 
but there he remains, linked to the spot which lias con- 
tained his poor well-worn loom, his birds, and his 
flowers, from his boyhood. So it is in other parts of 
England. The workmen, as a class, show no tendency 
to wander from town to town, or to leave England for 
foreign countries : individuals do so in every occupa- 
tion ; but there seems to be among our countrymen 
generally, or at least among the working population, 
a sort of attachment to home, however miserable, which 
runs counter to a rambling and unsettled life. 

A • tramp,' or travelling migratory workman, is 
seldom looked upon in a favourable light in this 
country. He is a kind of homeless wanderer, un- 
attached to any specific locality ; whereas on the Con- 
tinent an itinerant workman is by no means a rare 
personage. Mr. Symonds, in his * Arts and Artizans/ 
while speaking or the condition of the weavers in 



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Scotland, has occasion to allude, in the following terms, 
to a class of men such as we are now speaking of. It 
may be necessary to say that Mr. Symonds gathered 
his information while acting as Assistant Commissioner 
on the Hand-loom Weavers' Enquiry : — " The most 
dissolute and immoral class of weavers in Scotland are 
an itinerant body called • tramps/ of whom at least 
two-thirds are said to be Irish. They take looms as 
journeymen from the master of a shop, who procures 
webs for them from the manufacturers ; and not un- 
frequently, after they are three-quarters woven, they 
cut them out of ihe loom, and decamp with them. 
They are notorious as the most idle, profligate, noisy, 
drunken, and quarrelsome set of people in the weaving 
districts. Embezzlement of weft is the chief vice of 
the weavers ; it is ' the sin which most easily besets 
them ;' and that it is carried on to a very considerable 
extent there appears no question. " Mr. Symonds pro- 
ceeds to show trie manner in which this system injures 
the honest weaver, by enabling the fraudulent one to 
undersell him in the market ; and further describes 
how women, employed oy certain persons in the busy 
seats of manufacture, • tramp ' about the country, and 
obtain a sale in the weaving districts for silk-yarn 
which has been dishonestly obtained. 

This, however, is the worst phase of * tramping.' 
It is downright roguery, which is by no means ne- 
cessarily connected with the condition of a migratory 
workman. There are individuals, if not classes, con- 
stantly roaming about England, the object being to 
obtain a living by honest labour in any town where the 
latter is to be obtained. Still, however, this, as we 
have before observed, is not a characteristic of English 
workmen ; and we must go to the Continent to observe 
the system in all its remarkable features, both as 
respects apprentices or learners, and journeymen. 

Switzerland and Germany, as we shall presently 
describe, are the countries wherein this system is prin- 
cipally followed. In France it is not so largely prac- 
tised. The various classes of workmen are not con- 
nected and classified exactly as in England, but they 
exhibit peculiarities worthy of notice, which will serve 
to show the contrast not only between the French and 
the English, but also between the French and the 
German workmen. The silk-weavers of Lyons, one 
of the most important operative bodies in France, are 
thus depicted by M. Monfalcon, in his • Histoire des 
Insurrections de Lyon, en 1831 et en 1834.' The silk- 
weavers of Lyons are divided into three classes, whom 
we may, in English parlance, call small masters, 
workmen, and apprentices ; besides the manufacturers 
whose capital and commercial connections set all to 
work. The first of these are the chefs d ateliers, or 
men who have three, four, or half a dozen looms, and 
a fixed residence. The second class go by the name 
of convpagnons, they work some of the looms of the 
chefs a ateliers, with whom they live, having no house- 
rent to pay. and no responsibility of any sort. These 
men and women (for both sexes are included) receive 
half of the money gained by the looms they work, 
the other half going to the chef &atelier for wear 
and tear of machinery, house-rent, risk, &c. M. 
Monfalcon says that "these compactions in general 
have no activity and no spirit of order : they compose 
a floating and very unequal population. When there 
is plenty of work, the country in the neighbourhood of 
Lyons furnishes many workmen, and formerly a great 
number used to migrate from Piedmont anil Savoy. 
When the silk trade is dull, most of these compagnons 
leave the town, and turn their hands to something 
else. The system of compagnonage is deemed by think- 
ing men a great evil at Lyons ; for the workmen are, 
in general, unintelligent or imprudent men, who, 
either through want of ability in their trade, or through 



want of economy, have never been able to get together 
the very small capital necessary to buy a loom or two 
of their own. The apprentices are generally youths 
from fifteen to twenty years of age, who are taught 
their business by the chefs ^ateliers, with whom and 
for whom they work. Besides these, there are a 
younger kind of workpeople called lancers, mere 
children, whose work is to throw (lance) the shuttle in 
certain pattern silks. M. Monfalcon gives a sad 
picture of these youths and boys. * 4 Generally speak- 
ing/' he says, '• neither apprentices nor lancers have 
received the least rudiment of education. They are 
turbulent on days of riot and revolt, through a mere 
love of noise. But these boys were seen during the 
three days of November, 1831 (the period of a dreadful 
riot at Lyons), creeping among the horses, and aiming 
blows at the dragoons, which were so much the more 
dangerous as it was impossible to foresee them. 
During the six days of April, 1834 (when a second riot 
took place in the same city), many of them explored 
the streets of Lyons armed with pistols or bad guns. 
These unfortunate little wretches, during the whole 
of our sad collisions, have shown the greatest disregard 
of danger, and, at times, the most complete contempt 
of life." 

The migratory workmen and apprentices of Germany 
and Switzerland will afford us details of a less painful 
nature. While Mr. Symonds was collecting informa- 
tion on the Continent, in reference to one of the 
Government Commissions, he had an opportunity of 
becoming acquainted with the peculiar wander-schaft 
system of Germany and Switzerland. In many parts 
of these countries there is an immemorial usage, that 
no apprentice can obtain his freedom, and become a 
master, until he has spent a certain number of years 
under a kind of itinerant probation, and in following 
his avocation beyond his native country. He is fur- 
nished on setting out with a book, in which his various 
masters insert certificates of his service and conduct. 
This book is called his * wander-buch.' The rambler 
is generally assisted not only by the trade to which he 
belongs, in towns where tnere is no employment for 
him, but by the donations of travellers. Mr. Symonds 
was frequently asked, by well-dressed young men, 
with knapsacks on their backs, for money on the road. 
On one occasion, the * wanderer ' had been through 
Switzerland, part of Bavaria, and Wirtemberg, and 
was then on his way home to Baden : he spoke French 
admirably, and gave a lucid and excellent account of 
the most salient features in the condition of the woik- 
men in the different countries he had been in. Mr. 
Symonds comments on the bad effects which this 
begging system must have a tendency to produce in 
the manly and independent tone of feeling on the part 
of the youn^ men, though it must be remembered that 
public begging is in every other case most strenuously 
prevented in Germany, and that they only are licensed 
to ask for assistance. On the other hand he points 
out the advantages which accrue in other respects, 
giving to them a range of knowledge and varied ac- 
quirements such as it would be vain to look for in a 
similar class in England. 

Mr. Symonds quotes a letter which he received 
from a gentleman in Austria, giving further details in 
connection with this matter. " You are aware that 
here, as over almost every part of Germany, the trades 
of tailors, shoemakers, furriers, &c. are carried on by 
masters who employ journeymen on the ' wander- 
schaft,' as it is called, that is to say, workmen who go 
from town to town, stay a winter at one place, a 
summer at another, and receive generally, besides 
board and lodging, a certain sum weekly. This is 
usually about a dollar to three florins (three to fixe 
shillings) ; tailors, 20 per cent. less. When they go 



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from one town to another, it is a recognised privilege 
of theirs, from time immemorial, to ask assistance from 
passers-by as they travel aiong, and at the towns they 
pass through ; and at every town there is a ' herberpe,' 
as they call it (auberge ?), where the master of the inn 
has agreed with the guild of that trade to lodge them at 
a very low rate ; so that when they arrive, they immedi- 
ately ask for the tailors', or shoemakers', &c. • herberge/ 
and by that means can travel very cheaply : a very bad 
system, which was originally intended to give them an 
opportunity of improving themselves in the knowledge 
of their art ; but it is peculiarly favourable to vaga- 
bondizing. At the moment I am writing this, a nlk- 
v caver has applied to me for assistance. From his 
passport I see he has been in Italy, and then in 
Hungary, and is returning to the Grand-Duchy of 
Nassau, whence he came." 

Most of the trades in Austria and Prussia are said 
to be supplied more or less by itinerant journeymen ; 
and the whole social system of a workman's family is 
very different from what is observed in England. The 
Voralberg (a part of the Austrian dominions), con- 
taining about ninety thousand inhabitants, sends out 
masons and house-builders td nearly the whole of 
Switzerland, and the neighbouring provinces of France. 
They leave early in spring, afld live very sparingly 
during the summer, cooking for themselves a kind of 
pudding or soup of flour and Indian corn, which, with 
bread, and now and then a glass of wine (a cheap 
beverage in those countries), suffice for their nourish- 
ment. They return home in autumn, where they have 
little to do during winter, excepting to fell wood, &c. 
in the forests, and other chance Work. The children 
leave the country at the same time in thousands, to 
herd cattle in Suabia and Bavaria ; receiving perhaps 
twenty shillings, besides board and lodging, for their 
services, a suit of home-spun lineri clothes, and two 
pair of shoes, and perhaps a bag of flour* which tbey 
manage to cook for themselves on the way, and return 
with nearly the whole of their earnings. While the 
strong and healthy men are those Working as journey- 
men in foreign countries, and the children go out to 
* farm-service ' for about the s<ime Space Of time, 
the women and old men cultivate the land, While the 
girls weave— all the branches of the family meeting 
again in the autumn. 

How different is all this from the usages presented 
among the bulk of English artizans ! 

Dutch S< filers at the Cape of Oood //iop*.— In every farm-house 
the style of living, the hours, and customs, appear nearly, if not 
entirely, similar ; sufficient for the more wealthy, And within the 
means of the less opulent, but little room if thus afforded for the 
exercise of that idle vanity of display, which, preferring empty 
show to solid comfort, is productive of so much misery in our 
own country. There it scarcely any variety even in the con- 
struction of the houses ; all have the ' stoep,' or raised foot pave- 
ment, running along the front, which is to the Cape Boer what 
the ' hearth ' is to the Englishman, the abode of the penates, the 
seat of honour of the house. Any disrespect shown to this 
sacred spot is much felt by them ; any offence or insult is greatly 
aggravated by the stoep being made the theatre of its perpetra- 
tion ; and I have known considerable irritation caused by a 
stranger, ignorant of their peculiarity in this matter, inadver- 
tently bringing his horse upon it. On entering is the hall, ib 
which the family sit, containing two or three small tables and a 
few venerable-looking chairs, with moveable cushions very softly 
stuffed. Immediately facing the hall, and generally communi- 
cating with it by folding doors, is the ' eating-room ;' while to 
the right and left, also opening into the hall, are two bed-rooms, 
one of which is always reserved as the best, or guest's room ; 
behind are the other two bed-rooms and offices. All these rooms 
are commonly paved with large square bricks, painted or ena- 
melled with some sort of composition, which contributes to orna- I 
nient as well as cleanliness, though its smoothuess renders necee- I 
sary some care in walking upon it, lit the spare room* J always J 



noticed, in addition to the more ordinary furniture, a massive 
old wardrobe : the feather Iwdt were remarkably Soft, the sheets 
white as snow, and as clean. To quarters such as these they 
welcome the stranger on the slightest introduction, rivalling iu 
this respect the far-famed hospitality of the East : though their 
portion may be scantier, the good-will with which they give it 
is not less abundant. Their occupations lead them to rise early, 
and before six the ' vrow,' or gude woman of the house, has her 
shining brass kettle of coffee on the equally resplendent braiier 
Of charcoal which supports H ; and, sitting down by it, proceeds 
to dispense Its contents to all comers. At eight the ' vrow,' re- 
spectfully approaching her hushand, who has returned from his 
work, notifies that breakfast is on table. Of this meal she her- 
self seldom partakes, at least not in company with the other 
members of the family ; remaining at a side-table, she prepares) 
the tea and coffee, which a female servant hands to the rest of 
the party, while she hersell rises and presents a cup to her hus • 
band. The breakfast-table is well covered with eggs, ham, bil- 
tongue or cured venison, cold meats, fresh butter, and excellent 
home-made brown bread : one of the children is called upon by 
the rather to say grace, unless a very aged person, as a grand- 
father or grandmother, be present, in which case they ask the 
blessing. Breakfast concluded, all depart to their respective 
tasks, from which they return at twelve to dinner r this meal 
consists of substantial joints of fresh or corned mutton, and fre- 
quently a couple of fowls, butter, cheese, and excellent whole- 
some unadulterated wiue : pastry is often added, but all is put 
on the table at once. The dinner service is invariably white, 
and, as well as the table-cloth, is always most scrupulously clean. 



Iu large families, where the father has sons of such an age as to 
be able to superintend the business of the farm, he usually in- 
dulges himself with a siesta, and contrives to be in or about the 



house about three o'clock, at which hour a servant hands round 
a tray containing small cups of tea, with milk, frequently in a 
silver ewer, and two cut-glass jars> One filled with sweetmeats, 
and the other with water, in which staud two or more very small 
silver forks, with which they help themselves to the confection, 
and , replace them in the water. The labour of the day being 
over, about seven of the family assemble in the hall, and a glass 
of wine is handed to each ; few speak except the master of the 
house, and he is listened to with respect. A woman's voice is 
seldom heard, save in answer to a question. At eight tfce vrow 
announces that supper is ready : this meal much resembles the 
dinner in its component parts; it is, perhaps, their principal 
meal : about nine a small glass of spirits, which they term a 
* lopee,' is brought to each of the men, and the party separates 
for the night. The manners of these hospitable and simple 
people are instinctively and innately polite; with less action 
than the French, they display more warmth than the English, 
and never did any class of men make on my mind a more fa- 
vourable impression than the Dutch Boera of the Cape Colony. 
—£«*/»**'* Notts and Reflection* during a Rambk in At Eati. 



The Yo*g-T*t-K*ang River. — Unless the Mississippi tod 
Missouri are to be considered as one river, then the Amazon 
being the first, the Yang-tse-Keang is the second river m the 
world in point of length. , If you consider, however, the count- 
less canals which it supplies with water, to keep under constant 
irrigation the surrounaiog country, the commerce which it car- 
ries on its breast, the fruitfulness displayed on its banks, where 
the richness of the foliage and the greenness of the herbage are 
quite astonishing j if, lastly, you add the depth and volume of its 
waters, it has some claims, 1 conceive, to the very first place 
among the rivers of the globe. In going up the river, nautical I y 
speaking, the left, geographically the tight bank of the river, 
is the most picturesque side. The ranges of hills' were fre- 
quently quadruple, the nearest sweeping down gracefully 
and gradually towards the river. The other side fbr a long way 
is very flat. The neat little villages were frequently, if not 
generally, placed in an angle formed by a canal and the great 
river. The villagers as we passed crowded towards the mouth 
of their canals. Great, doubtless, was their astonishment at the 
noble, and, to them, novel sight of a British fleet of war-ships and 
transports, the latter glistening with scarlet. None of these men 
had ever seen a ship more powerful or larger than a Chinese 
junk of war. No greater astonishment would probably have 
been felt by a pigmy of yore at first view of any of the giants, 
" men of renown, H who lived in «« those days." — Tht Im* IW 



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er> 



[English Cattle-Drover.] 



CATTLE-DROVERS. 



The industry required in producing the common food 
of the people, although simple and often rude in its 
nature, involves extensive and varied arrangements, 
and a division of employments nearly as striking 
as the complicated processes which excite so much 
admiration in manufactures. How varied are the con- 
trasts between the different classes engaged in rais- 
ing food and those who are employed in producing 
clothing and shelter, and yet the humblest services in 
each of these departments of industry are indispen- 
sable and invaluable. The subject of the cut leads us 
more immediately to the consideration of one of the 
useful occupations connected with the supply of ani- 
mal food. The number of cattle in Great Britain is 
estimated at eight millions, and their value, at 10/. per 
head, amounts to the large sum of eighty millions 
sterling. One-fifth of the above-mentioned number, 
or 1,600,000, is annually consigned to the butcher. 
His are the last, except those of the cook, of a long 
chain of operations. London requires a supply of 
about 160,000 head of cattle annually, and by far the 
larger proportion are reared in the northern part of 
the island, though they are fattened in the south. The 
rich lands are more profitably employed than in sup- 
plying food to young beasts whicn are hardy enough 
to thrive on the coarse grasses of uncultivated wastes. 
Hence, as the most profitable distribution of the soil, lean 
cattle are the riches of a country which is not adapted 
to cultivation ; but when required for the butcher, then 
the produce of the best soils may be advantageously 
employed in fattening them. In the districts where 

no. 699. 



they are reared, the rent of the land is paid out of the 
profits of the live stock, for they are the chief wealth 
of the tenant, but in those where they are fattened rent 
is derived from a greater variety of sources, and the 
manure obtained from stall-feeding constitutes no in- 
considerable proportion of the profit, for without this 
restorative the soil would soon become less productive. 
No plan therefore is so advantageous or economical 
as that under which the uncultivated lands are devoted 
to the rearing, and the richer soils to the fattening of 
stock. On their road from Scotland to the midland, 
eastern, and southern counties of England the ser- 
vices of a particular class of men is a distribution of 
labour equally convenient. The farmer of Norfolk 
need not leave his farm on a distant journey to the 
north, but purchases lean stock at the fairs in his own 
neighbourhood, to which the cattle are driven by those 
who make it their sole business. In the • Survey of 
Dumbartonshire ' there is an account of the progress 
of the cattle on their journey :— " The cattle bred in 
the West Highlands are, at the age of two years, or 
two years and a half, removed into Dumbartonshire 
and the neighbouring counties. At three years old 
they are carried to the northern counties of England, 
and so by degrees southward, enjoying at each remove 
a milder climate and a richer pasture than before, till 
they attain their full size, and reach the butcher in 
prime condition." The pastures on which they are 
supported before they commence their journey to the 
south are very coarse, and only cattle which have never 
known better fare can pick up a living upon them. 
After feeding here during the winter, they are sold in 
April or May, and it is evident that if they have sim- 



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[February 25t 



a not deteriorated during the severe season, tbey will, 
en that is over and there is the near prospect of 
abundant food from the summer pastures, letch a 
higher price than was given for them before the winter 
with its possible scarcity. During summer they get 
into better condition, and are purchased by buyers 
from districts where turnips are cultivated, on which 
root and hay they are fed in the second winter. In 
spring they perhaps reach the rich pastures of Lincoln- 
shire, Northamptonshire, or the marshes of Essex, 
and are put upon them for the early grass, on which 
they soon become fat. For stall-feeding, they are 
bought lean at the great autumn fairs and fattened 
during the winter. The prices vary in different years, 
but the proportions remain much the same, and the 
small Scotch cattle usually average per head, at fifteen 
months, 3/. to 4/. ; at two years, 6/. or 71. ; at three or 
three and a half, 10/. or 12/. upwards. Every hand 
through which they pass derives a profit, as advan- 
tageous to the public interest as it is to his own. 

The great trysts or fairs in Scotland for the sale of 
cattle exhibit the wealth of pastoral districts to great 
advantage. Those held at Falkirk are the largest, 
from its central situation, both for the breeders in the 
north and west of Scotland, and for the buyers for the 
English market. Every variety of cattle bred in Scot- 
land, including those from the Western Islands and the 
Hebrides, are to be found at the Falkirk trysts, which 
are held on different days in the months of August, 
September, and October, the last being the largest, as 
the breeders must then dispose of all the stock which 
they do not intend to keep through the winter. At 
the October tryst there have been 50,000 cattle, 30,000 
sheep, and 3000 horses on sale ; and the number sold at 
the three together is about 80.000 cattle, 50,000 sheep, 
and 5000 horses, which fetch an aggregate sum of 
650,0C0/., averaging the cattle at 11. each, the sheep at 
lay., and the horses at 1G/. Some of the cattle are in 
good store condition, others are almost ready for the 
butcher, but the greater proportion are lean, and arc 
purchased to be fattened in the south. Cattle-dealing 
partakes a good deal of the excitement of gambling, as 
the profits may be largely increased by the state of the 
markets, the supply of fodder, and many unforeseen 
contingencies ; and they are enhanced also by adroit- 
ness and aptness in making bargains. A man who 
spends his whole life in attending fairs is, therefore, a 
character sui generis; but he has none of the low 
trickery of the horse-dealer. 

From the great Scotch trysts the cattle are sent off 
to the south in droves of from two to three hundred, 
under the charge of a person called a ' topsman.' The 
following account of the further progress of the ani- 
mals is irom the treatise on * Cattle/ in the • Library 
of Useful Knowledge :* — "The topsman generally goes 
before, to see that grass is secured at proper stations, 
and to make all necessary arrangements. He has 
under him other drovers, in the proportion of one to 
about thirty cattle. The journey to Norfolk occupies 
about three weeks. The expense in summer and 
autumn is from 1/. to 1/. 4*. per head ; and in winter, 
when they are fed with hay, they cost 10*. or 15*. per 
head additional. The cattle are purchased and paid 
for by the drovers, sometimes in cash, but more gene- 
rally a part of the price is paid in bills, and sometimes 
the whole of it. In some instances, where the farmer 
has confidence in the drover, he consents that the 
purchase- money shall be remitted from Norwich, or 
that the money shall be paid when the jobber returns 
home. The business is hazardous, and now and then 
unfortunate; but the drover considers himself well 
paid, if, every expense of the journey being discharged, 
he clears from 2*. Qd. to 5*. per head ; and when he 
lias either money or credit sufficient to take a drove of 



600 or 1000 head of cattle to the market, that is a good 
remunerating price." The drovers are said to be a 
respectable and deserving class of men. They are very 
different from the class who drive the cattle into Smith- 
field market from the outskirts of London, where they 
meet another class, the country drovers ; but neither the 
one nor the other are anything more than mere driven 
of the cattle to market. The • drover,* properly so 
called, requires either capital or credit. 



ON THE BLASTING OF ROCKS. 

The question whether or not the invention of gun- 
powder has increased or lessened the liability of the 
occurrence of war, is one which has been mucji con- 
tested ; but it is at all events satisfactory to know that 
this formidable substance has been, and promises still 
further to be, a most powerful working agent in the 
hands of the civil engineer. The extensive operations 
now carrying on in the neighbourhood of Dover, 
where, by the agency of gunpowder, large masses of 
rock are being removed to prepare the way for the 
South- Eastern Railway, afford a remarkable exempli- 
fication of the process of blasting, which may deserve 
a brief explanation. 

The blasting of rock by the aid of gunpowder is the 
substitution of a working agent which acts suddenly, 
for one which proceeds step by step. It is one grand 
effort, instead of a succession of efforts. It is a sudden 
disruption, whereby a mass of rock is detached, instead 
of being picked off piecemeal. The explosive or ex- 
pansive force of gunpowder is the agent which effects 
this object; and much discussion has arisen respecting 
the precise mode in which this force is to be estimated. 
The explosion is considered as the extrication of a 
permanently elastic fluid by the ignition of the gun- 
powder, the elastic fluid or gas occupying nearly five 
hundred times as much space as the grains of gun- 
powder had done. Some scientific men have supposed 
that the nitre contains air between two and three 
hundred times denser than the free atmospheric air; 
and that this, in struggling for liberation, exerts a force 
equal to that of a thousand atmospheres : that is. that 
if the pressure of the atmosphere be taken at fifteen 
pounds in the square inch, the bursting force of ignited 
gunpowder is equal to nearly seven tons upon the 
square inch. Count Rumford even went so far as to 
estimate the bursting force as equal to ten thousand 
atmospheres, but this has been deemed extravagant. 
Be the amount what it may, however, the powerful 
mechanical force thus exerted is very evident, and 
could not long escape the notice of the civil engineer. 

The purposes to which blasting by gunpowder would 
be likely to be applied in civil operations are, the 
detaching of the mineral riches in our mines and 
collieries, the excavation of tunnels, and the clearing 
away of cliffs and rocks for the formation of docks, 
harbours, quays, roads, railways, &c. In our mines 
immense quantities of gunpowder are annually used, 
for the purpose of blasting the coal and iron-stone, 
and thus saving the labour of the pickaxe. Brindley 
was the first to adopt the bold step of blasting a tunnel 
through a hill as a means of carrying a canal on a 
level, instead of making a detour round the hill, or 
ascending it by means of locks. In the year 1776 he 
completed the first navigable tunnel, at Harecastle in 
Staffordshire, which is upwards of a mile in length. 
Since that period many remarkable examples of tun- 
nelling have been presented, in all of which, if the 
soil were hard and rocky, blasting by gunpowder has 
been the chief working agent. At Sopperton, on the 
canal joining the Thames with the Severn, there is a 
tunnel three miles in lenglh, forced through the solid 
rock by means of gunpowder. In France, a tunnel 



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seven miles in length has been lately completed. In 
the famous Box Tunnel, on the Great Western Railway, 
the excavation through hard rock has been of almost 
unexampled magnitude, and has been executed with 
the aid of one hundred and thirty tons of gunpowder f 
In the structure of the Breakwater at Plymouth, the 
government purchased a hill or quarry of hard rock on 
the neighbouring shore, detached the rock in large 
masses by means of blasting, and constructed the 
breakwater with the masses thus procured. For the 
construction of the Royal Victualling Yard near 
Devonport, a recess or basin has been scooped out of 
solid rock by blasting, the rock furnishing a great 
part of the material for the structure, and the build- 
ings occupying the place where the rock had before 
been. Between Folkstone and Dover, the South- 
Eastern Railway is to be carried along the very face 
of the cliffs, suspended as it were midway between 
land and sea ; ana to prepare the line of direction for 
this purpose, vast masses of jutting cliff are now being 
removed by blasting. 

Such are a few instances to illustrate the kind of 
engineering operations in which blasting by gunpowder 
is available; and we may next briefly describe the 
mode in which the blasting is effected. 

The object of blasting is generally not to shatter the 
rocky substance into a thousand pieces, but to detach 
it in a mass. In some cases, however, the utter dis- 
ruption is desired. But whichever plan be adopted, 
the gunpowder is inserted in a hole bored in the rock 
itself, proportionate in size to the amount of effect to 
be produced. This hole is bored horizontally or ob- 
liquely, according to the depth of the strata of which 
the rock is composed, or to the position which the 
whole body of rock occupies. The hole may vary 
from half an inch to three or four inches in diameter, 
and from a few inches to seven or eight feet in length. 
The tools employed are few in number and simple in 
construction, and consist principally of augers and 
chisels of various diameters. The hole is produced 
chiefly by a kind of chisel called a * jumper,' which 
(if the hole be small), is held in the left hand of the 
workman, and struck by a hammer or mallet held in 
the right, the jumper being moved about between the 
successive blows. If the bole is of large dimensions, 
one man guides the jumper, adjusting its position and 
moistening it with water, while another man strikes 
the blows with the hammer. Sometimes, instead of 
using a hammer, the men employ a very heavy jumper, 
much longer than the hole which they are about to 
bore ; and, lifting this in and out of the hole, suffer it to 
perforate the rock by the weight and momentum of its 
descent. 

When the hole has been bored to the proper depth, 
the dibris, or broken rock, is scraped out, and the 
whole prepared for the reception of the powder. The 
hole being about half filled with powder, a long sharp 
instrument called a * pricker ' is thrust through it, as 
a means of forming a channel or recess for the recep- 
tion of the ' priming.* Fragments of burnt clay, 
pounded brick, stone, and similar earthy matters, are 
then rammed into the hole on the top of the powder, 
the • pricker * still remaining inserted in the centre. 
This ramming down of what may be termed the * wad- 
ding ' is the most dangerous part of the operation ; for 
if there should be metallic particles enough present to 
produce a spark, an explosion would be very apt to 
follow. Many an eye and an arm has been lost by 
this cause. 

When the powder has been firmly rammed in by 
the earthy matters laid on it, the • pricker ' is with- 
drawn, leaving a kind of tubular or conical space. 
The space is then filled with loose powder ; or else a 
tube is made of wbeaten or oaten straws, fitted end to 



end, filled with powder, and inserted in the cavity. 
By either of these means the powder is brought into 
connection with the external atmosphere, where it is 
placed in contact with a ' slow match,' consisting 
generally of a bit of soft paper, prepared by immersion 
in a solution of saltpetre. All is now ready. The 
workman applies fire to the paper, and immediately 
gives a signal for every one to run beyond the reach of 
danger, he doing so likewise. A minute or so elapses 
before the fire reaches the powder ; but when it does, 
an explosion is heard, and the rock is rent asunder. 
If the charge of powder was too small, the rending is 
insufficient ; if too large, the rock is not only dissevered, 
but is shattered into small fragments and scattered all 
around: the proper quantity of powder is therefore 
determined by experience. 

Many improvements have been gradually introduced 
in the method of blasting ; some of them highly curi- 
ous in their nature. It used to be supposed that the 
blasting would not be effective unless the powder were 
rammed tightly down by strata of rock and earth above 
it ; and hence numerous accidents which occurred to 
the workmen. But it is now found that dry loose sand, 
simply poured into the hole on the top of the gun- 
powder, will effect the end desired. A writer in the 
• Encyclopaedia Britannica' states that this method is 
now so much adopted, ' particularly at Lord Elgin's 
extensive mining operations at Charlestown in Scot- 
land, where much attention is paid to the security and 
comfort of the artificer, as well as to everything in- 
teresting to science. The practice of using loose sand, 
instead of pounded stone rammed with force, has been 
in use several years, — it is believed, since about the 
year 1810." Sand was similarly used in the extensive 
quarrying operations which became necessary in cut- 
ting down a part of the Caiton-hiU, to form the new 
approach to the city of Edinburgh, where upwards of 
a hundred thousand cubic yards of rocky matter were 
removed, and one thousand pounds worth of gunpowder 
used in blasting. 

But the most interesting circumstances connected 
with blasting are those which relate to the mode of 
ignition or kindling. Various contrivances, under the 
names of • port-fire,' • slow-match,' and * fuzee,' have 
been applied to this purpose. The ' slow-match ' is 
explained to be a piece of paper saturated with a liquid, 
which causes it to consume slowly or smoulder when 
ignited, instead of burning away at once. A ' port-fire ' 
is a paper tube, filled with a composition of meal- 
powder, sulphur, and saltpetre, rammed moderately 
hard : it is a contrivance used to kindle the powder in 
a hollow cavity ; but it is more adapted for the firing 
of guns and mortars than for blasting. A ' fuzee ' or 
4 fuze ' is a hollow tube of wood, filled with composi- 
tion which has been rammed tightly down : it is in- 
serted in a bomb-shell, which is not required to explode 
until a certain period after being shot from the mortar 
or piece ; and therefore the composition is such as will 
burn slowly till it ignites the powder contained within 
the shell. Various modifications of these contrivances 
have been applied to the firing of gunpowder for blast- 
ing ; but they bid fair to be superseded by one of a 
very remarkable and scientific character. 

Among the effects which the passage of electricity 
produces, is one due to the existence of any obstruction 
to the free and unopposed transit. Those who are any 
way acquainted with the " galvanic battery " are aware 
the current therein excited will travel to any distance 
alon£ a wire ; and that if the wire be interrupted in 
its circuit at any part by a small interval, intense heat 
is excited, which may be made to ignite gunpowder or 
similar substances placed in the intervening space. It 
occurred to Colonel Pasley, to whom was consigned 
the office of raising the sunken * Royal George ' at Spit- 



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head, that a system of blasting analogous to that em- 
ployed on land might be adopted to shatter the ill- 
fated ship ; and that the powder, conveyed down into 
the water for this purpose, might be ignited by means 
of galvanic agency. The idea was a bold one, and the 
success has been signal. For months Colonel Pasley 
had to contend against great difficulties, in the con- 
struction of canisters or cylinders to contain the powder, 
in the means of preserving the powder from being 
wetted when the canisters were lowered into the sea, 
in the adjustment and fastening of the canisters to the 
sunken ship, in the connection of the wires of a vol- 
taic battery with the gunpowder within the canisters, 
and in the tiring of the charge without injury to those 
who had to superintend the operations at the surface 
of the water. These difficulties had to be overcome 
one by one ; and the result has been the establishing 
of a system which seems likely to be extensively avail- 
able both in land and sea operations. The galvanic 
batteries were on board a vessel on the surface of the 
water ; and from the batteries wires descended through 
the water to the canisters (some of which contained three 
thousand pounds of gunpowder!), fastened to the ex- 
terior of the bottom of the ship. When the galvanic 
current was excited, it passed through the gunpowder 
contained in the canisters, ignited it, and caused an 
explosion which shattered the enormous hull of the 
sunken vessel to fragments. The statements which 
have appeared so abundantly in the newspapers, relat- 
ing to the saving of guns, spars, fragments, &c. from 
the wreck, forms a sequel to these operations; for 
after the shattering of the wreck had been effected by 
the explosions, divers went down day after day for 
months together, fastened the dislodged guns and 
relics to chains depending from barges above, and gave 
signals whereby the articles were hauled up by the 
aid of capstans. 

From that time, the use of the galvanic battery in 
igniting the gunpowder for blasting has attracted the 
attention of engineers. Very recently an explosion 
on an unexampled scale has taken place near the 
Shakspere Cliff at Dover; a million cubic yards of 
chalk-rock having been loosened and precipitated at 
one blast. Three pits or shafts were sunk, commu- 
nicating with hollow chambers, in which eighteen 
thousand pounds of gunpowder were deposited. The 
wires of a galvanic battery were placed in connec- 
tion with the powder, and the whole charge was fired 
at once. A great saving of expense will accrue to the 
company, by die sudden removal of a mass of rock 
which would otherwise have had to be removed by 
hand -labour, to form the line of railway. 



Sktp in Mecklenburg. — The Saxon or Merino sheep, how- 
ever, is the animal which bests remunerates the Mecklenburger, 
and forms the especial object of his care and attention. They 
were brought to these countries from Saxony, about the year 
1811, and are now universal. The greatest pains are taken to 
produce fleeces as nearly equal as possible over the whole flock. 
The nature of this sort of sheep is so little known in England, 
although an object of such vital importance to the British 
Australian Colonies, that 1 venture to hope a description of it 
may be acceptable. The Merino is a long-legged, narrow- 
bodied, ugly animal, with a fleece varying in weight, in propor- 
tion to its coarseness (although fine wool is specifically Heavier 
than coarse) from 2 lbs. to 3 lbs. The staple is very close and 
thick growing, greasy or oily to the feel, elastic and soft, very 
tenacious, and formed differently from any other wools, with a 
number of regular, minute bends, or curls, in each hair. There 
are always different sorts of wool upon the same sheep, and that 
animal is of course the most esteemed which produces the highest 
qualities in the greatest proportion. Breeding successfully with 
this view is a most difficult science, requiring years of pains- 
taking intelligence to attain. I was present at the exhibition of 
22 rams at the cattle-show of Gustrow in Mecklenburg, in May, 



1837. The specimens to an inexperienced eye appeared much 
alike : they were carefully washed and shorn, the fleeces num- 
bered and sent to the most eminent wool -staplers at Leipsic, 
where they were submitted to accurate assortment and valua- 
tion. The Merino is supposed to be indigenous to Spain, 
and known to have been first introduced into Germany in 
1765 by the then Elector of Saxony. Shortly after (about 
1775), another small flock was brought to Austria, and sub- 
sequently in 1786, and 1803, to the imperial domains of Hol- 
ditch in Hungary, and Mannersdorf in Austria. From these 
small beginnings has this valuable animal been spread over these 
immense countries. But there are two distinct breeds, which 
differ materially in shape and the quality of their wool. 1st. — 
The lufantado, or Negrctti, distinguishable by shorter legs and 
a stouter make ; the head and neck generally short and broad, 
the nose short and turned up, and the body round like a barrel. 
The wool is often matted upon the neck, back, and thighs, and 
grows upon the head to the eyes, and upon the legs to the rery 
feet. The grease in its fleece is almost pitchy, and as the dust 
becomes incorporated with it, the washing is a matter of diffi- 
culty and risk : the greatest care is at all times necessary iu this 
operation. A warm mild day, without harsh or drying wind, is 
indispensable, and care must be taken never to rub the fleece 
with the hand. A marl-pit with a depth of from eight to ten 
feet of clear water is a favourite washing-place, and is thought 
to liecome better every year. The sheep are thrown in from a 
stage in the evening, and made to swim the whole length of the 
pond (twenty to thirty yards), between rails, with boards on one 
side, from which women or boys assist them through their bath, 
by placing wooden rakes or crooks under their chins, and so 
passing them onwards. When the water lias dripped from the 
fleeces for an hour or two, the sheep are put into a house for the 
night, as close together as possible, in order to cause the greater 
evaporation, and the next day they are swum three or four times 
through the same pond, the last time the head being rubbed a 
little, and they are kept in the house (well supplied with clean 
straw), on dry food, for three or four days, until tlie wool, bj 
sweating, as it is termed, has recovered its characteristic softness. 
The fleece of this species is generally thick, closely grown, and 
abundant. Ewes may average two and a quarter and even three 
and a quarter pounds by careful feeding (which, however, must 
never approach to feeding to be fat, else the wool becomes wiry 
and hard) ; and rams and wedders may bring four pounds, and 
even six pounds. This is the animal which came to Austria 
from Spain. The other distinct breed is the Saxon importation, 
and is called Escurial. Their shape differs markedly from tlie 
Infantados — longer legged, with a long spare neck and bead, with 
very little wool on the latter : a finer, shorter, and softer cha- 
racter in its fleece, but deficient in quantity. One and a half 
to two pounds is frequently the amount from ewes, and two to 
three pounds from rams and wedders. On being presented to 
the Elector of Saxony in 1765, they received the appellation of 
Elect orals. A great deal of trouble has been taken to combine 
the advantages of both breeds by crossing, but with doubtful 
advantages; and although the mixed breed has been found 
suitable for crossing with sheep not thorough-bred (called Mee- 
tisen), yet experience has shown that, to breed with advantage, 
all the rams, be the ewes what they may, should be either 
thorough-bred Infantados* or Escurials, and that the same strain 
of blood should be p ers evere d in : I know an instance where a 
large and valuable flock has been for years retrograding in con- 
sequence of one unsuitable ram having been introduced twelve or 
fourteen years ago. Good rams are of course becoming every 
year more attainable, but there are examples of breeders iu 
Saxony who still obtain for distinguished rams as much as one 
hundred, two hundred, and even three hundred Louisd'ors (of 
nineteen shillings each). — Communications of Mr. Carr to the 
Agricultural Journal. 

Convenation. — Whosoever hath his mind fraught with many 
thoughts, his wits and understanding do clarify and break up, 
in the communicating and discoursing with another ; he tosseth 
his thoughts more easily ; he marshalleth them more orderly ; be 
seeth how they look when they are turned into words : finally, 
he waxeth wiser than himself: and that more by an hour's dis- 
course than by a day s meditation. It was well said by Themis- 
tocles to the king of Persia, " That speech was like cloth of Arras, 
opened and put abroad ; whereby the imagery doth appear in 
figure ; whereas in thoughts they lie but as in packs. — Lord 
Bacon • Euayt. 



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Yew-tree, at Fountains Abbey, Hipon, Yorkshire.] 



THE YEW. 



Some of the finest : nd most venerable yews are 
found in churchyards, and in many instances are coeval 
with the edifice around which they cast their solemn 
shade. Generations after generations have been borne 
to their last resting-place, and the brief memorials of 
their life have perished by the hand of time and forget- 
fulness, while the yew flourishes for hundreds of years 
afterwards. Like all the productions of nature des- 
tined for a protracted existence, its growth is slow ; a 
century elapses before it reaches maturity. There is 
reason to believe that the fine old tree represented in 
the cut was planted before the Saxon period of our 
history was brought to a close by the Norman con- 
quest. Fountains Abbey, where it still flourishes, 
was founded in 1 132 by Thurston, Archbishop of York, 
for certain monks who separated themselves from the 
Benedictine Abbey of St. Mary's, York, in order to 
adopt the more austere discipline of St. Bernard. 
Burton, in his * Monasticon,* gives the history of Foun- 
tains Abbey on the authority of a monk of Kirkstall, 
and we may briefly follow him, as it will be seen that 
our tree has some connection with his tradition :— " At 
Christmas, the Archbishop, being at Ripon, assigned 
to the monks some land in the patrimony of St. Peter, 
about three miles west of that place, for the erecting 
of a monastery. This spot of ground had never been 
inhabited, unless by wild beasts. The prior of St. 
Mary's, at York, was chosen abbot by the monks, be- 
ing the first of this monastery of Fountains, with whom 
they withdrew into this uncouth desert, without any 
house to shelter them in that winter season, or pro- 
visions to subsist on, but entirely depending on Divine 
Providence. There stood a large elm-tree in the 



midst of the vale, on the lower branches of which they 
put some thatch and straw ; and under that they lay, 
ate, and prayed, the bishop for a time supplying them 
with bread, and the rivulet with drink. Part of the 
day some spent in making wattles to erect a little 
oratory, whilst others cleared some ground to make a 
little garden. But it is supposed that they soon 
changed the shelter of their elm for that of seven yew- 
trees, growing on the declivity of the hill on the south 
side of the abbey, all standing at the, present time 
(1685) except the largest, which was blown down 
about the middle of the last century. They stand so 
near each other as to form a cover almost equal to a 
thatched roof. Under these trees, we are told by tra- 
dition, the monks resided till they had built the mo- 
nastery." What singular vicissitudes have taken 
place even under their shade ! The abbey itself is 
now a ruin — perhaps the finest of the kind in England. 
Three centuries have passed away since its choirs and 
belfries were silenced ; and yet a duration of four cen- 
turies from the building of the abbey to its dissolution 
is not a brief space, even in the history of a nation. 

Of the yews at Fountains Abbey, the Seven Sisters 
as they were called, five still flourish, and may do 
so perhaps for many centuries to come ; for even when 
the original trunk decays, the final ruin of the tree is 
not accomplished. This peculiarity of the yew is ex- 
plained as follows by Mr. Loudon, in his • Arboretum :' 
— " When the top of the trunk becomes cracked by the 
action of storms upon the boughs, the rain finds ac- 
cess, and in time causes decay ; and the dead leaves 
and dung of bats and birds, &c. falling in, combine 
with the rotten wood to form a soft rich mould, into 
which a bud shooting out from a neighbouring part (if 
not actually covered with the mould) is naturally 



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[February 25, 



drawn by the moisture and surrounding shade, and 
transformed into a root As the fissure widened and 
deepened by the alow but sure progress of decay, this 
root would descend and thicken, till it ultimately fixed 
itself in the soil below. After a lapse of perhaps 
several centuries, decay, gradually advancing, would at 
last reach the circumference of the trunk, and produce 
a rift on one side ; through this the rotten mould would 
fall out, gradually exposing the root it had conducted 
downwards, and the combined influence of light and 
air acting upon its juices would cause it to deposit 
annual layers of true wood, and to be covered with a 
true bark. Meanwhile it would have shot up a stem 
near its point of union, and have formed for itself an 
independent head and branches." In cases where this 
process takes place, the existence of a yew-tree on a 
particular spot might continue as long as the world 
endures. 

The origin of the custom of planting yew-trees in 
churchyards is still a subject of considerable per- 
plexity. As the yew was of such great importance in 
war and field-sports before the use of gunpowder was 
known, perhaps the parsons of parishes were required 
to see that the churchyard was capable of supplying 
bows to the males of each parish of proper age ; but 
in this case we should scarcely have been left without 
some evidence on the matter. Others again state that 
the trees in question were intended solely to furnish 
branches for use on Palm Sunday, while many sup- 
pose that the yew was naturally selected for planting 
around churches on account of its emblematic character, 
as expressive of the solemnity of death, while from its 
perennial verdure and long duration it might be re- 
garded as a type of immortality. Another origin has 
also been ascribed to the custom. In the works of a 
very ancient Welsh bard, two churches, the minster of 
Esgor and that of HSnllan, are spoken of as famous 
for the prodigious yew-trees which surrounded them. 
HSnllan signifies an old grove, and it has therefore 
been inferred that the church occupied the very site 
where the Druids had performed their rites before the 
introduction of Christianity into Britain. St. Augustine 
was enjoined by Gregory the Great not to destroy the 
pagan, places ot worship which he might find in this 
island, but to convert them into Christian churches ; 
and if, as it has been suggested, the words kirk and 
church are derived from cerrig, a stone or circle of 
stones, it may possibly be correct to conclude that in 
some cases the first Christian churches in Britain were 
planted in the* groves sacred to Druidical rites, and 
within the circular stone enclosures where the priests 
of this worship officiated. Dr. Stukely was of opinion 
that the round churches were the most ancient in Eng- 
land. From custom and taste, the planting of yew- 
trees in churchyards might easily be perpetuated from 
the pagan period, as we see in the present day, when 
the tree has ceased to be applicable to the objects for 
which it was once so much valued. 

The use of the yew for making bows is noticed by 
the earliest Greek and Roman writers. Archery was 
the • arm' for which England was most famous before 
the invention of gunpowder. Several of our old sta- 
tutes forbid the exportation of yew, and its importation 
was enforced by several regulations, such as obliging 
foreigners to furnish ten bow-Btaves for every butt of 
wine which they brought to England. Other kinds of 
wood were also used for bows. Roger Ascham, who 
published his * Toxonhilus ' in 1544, with a view to 
preserve or revive tne manly old English weapon, 
says : — " As for brasell, elm, wych, and ashc, experience 
doth prove them to be mean for bowes; and so to con- 
clude, ewe, of all other things, is that whereof perfite 
shootinge would have a bo we made." A preference 
seems to have been given to foreign yew when Ascham 



wrote. Mr. Loudon was informed, in 1837* by the 
principal bow-manufacturer in England, that the 
" common yew, with sufficiently clear and knobless 
trunks, is no longer to be found either in England or 
in any other part of Europe ; and though," he said. 
" English yew is occasionally used by manufacturers* 
yet bows are now almost entirely made of different 
kinds of wood from South America." Ascham states 
that the best bows were made of the bole of the yew. 
" The bough," he says, *• is knotty and full of pruines ; 
the plant is quick enough of caste/* but it was apt to 
break. Is not then the poet in error when he describes 
an ancient yew still existing as having perhaps fur- 
nished weapons to 

" Those that crowed the tea, 
And drew their sounding bows at Agincourt ; 
Perhaps at earlier Cressy or Poictiers.'* 

No European tree is so excellent for the cabinet- 
maker as tne yew. It unites hardness with a close 
grain ; is of a fine orange-red or deep brown colour, 
often beautifully veined, and is capable of receiving a 
high polish. The sap-wood, which forms only a small 
portion, is (juite white, and also very hard. The yew 
is also admirable for many other purposes, for which 
it would be used if it were less scarce. Gilpin states 
that it was a saying in the New Forest, that a post of 
yew would outlast iron. When the yew-trees on Box 
Hill, Surrev, were cut down, about half a century ago, 
the half of one tree was sold for 50/., to be used in 
cabinet-work for inlaying. The yew makes an excel- 
lent and well-sheltered fence. For ornamental pur- 
poses, the trees selected should be females, as the 
berries which they bear add greatly to their beauty. 
They may be eaten with perfect safety ; but the shoots 
and leaves are poisonous in many cases to some ani- 
mals, whether in a green or dry state, while others eat 
them with impunity. When the Dutch style of gar- 
dening prevailed in this country, the yew was in great 
esteem, as it was more pliable under the shears than 
either box or juniper. 

The dimensions of the tree in the cut are as follows : 
—height, fifty feet ; girth at three feet from the ground* 
twenty-two feet eight inches ; at five feet, twenty-six 
feet five inches. It is the largest of the now remaining 
five, and forms the end of the row. In the list of re- 
corded trees of this species given in Mr. Loudon's • Ar- 
boretum/ we find one mentioned still larger. It stands 
in Darley Dale churchyard, Derbyshire, and though the 
height is not greater, yet at the base the girth is twenty- 
seven feet ; at two feet from the ground, twenty-seven 
feet seven inches ; at four feet there are protuberances 
which swell the girth to thirty-one feet eight inches. 
The trunk is forked at seven feet from the base. The 
tallest yew-tree in England is in the churchyard of 
Arlington, near Hounslow, which is fifty-eight feet 
high. A famous yew at Ankerwyke, near Staines, is 
thirty-two feet five inches in girtn at eight feet from 
the ground, and the diameter of its head is sixty-nine 
feet At Tisbury, Dorsetshire, there is a yew whose 
circumference is thirty-seven feet : it is perfectly hol- 
low, and a few years ago a party of seventeen persons 
breakfasted within its capacious Dole. In many church- 
yards in Scotland and Wales, as well as in England, 
there are yew-trees of great antiquity. At Queen wood, 
near Tytherly, Wilts, there are some fine avenues of 
this tree. One avenue consists of one hundred and 
sixty-two trees, averaging a height of thirty feet, 
planted about two hundred years since. The other 
comprises one hundred and twenty trees, average height 
twenty-four feet, and it is believed they were planted 
about one hundred and seventy years ago. The usual 
growth of a seedling is six or eight feet in ten years, 
and about fifteen feet in twenty years. 



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PLANTS USED IN DYEING BROWN AND 
BLACK. 

The materials used in dyeing, for the most part, de- 
rive their chief value in reference to their powers of 
producing the various shades and qualities of red, blue, 
and yellow; since the combination of different propor- 
tions of these three will produce an almost interminable 
series of other colours. There are, it is true, some 
ingredients employed which give a green dye, but for 
the most part the varied tints of green — whether 
known as sea-green, apple-green, grass-green, pea- 
green, or parrot-jrreen — are produced by a double 
dyeing, first with blue and then with yellow, or first 
with yellow and then with blue. There" are, however, 
substances specially employed in giving a black or a 
brown dye ; and as we have in former numbers no- 
ticed the chief vegetable substances used in dyeing 
red, blue, and yellow, we will here mention a few cal- 
culated to give black or brown tints. 

One of the most valuable substances employed to 
impart a black dye is galls, a remarkable tumour or 
excrescence growing on various trees. Sir J. E. Smith 
designates them as *' morbid excrescences, originating 
from the most vigorously-growing parts of plants, in 
consequence of the attacks of insects, chiefly of the 
hymenopterowi order, and of the genus q/nips" The 
same authority describes the mode of formation, with- 
out reference to any particular kind of tree or gall, 
somewhat as follows: — The parent insect is provided 
with a sharp sting, serving to perforate the branch, 
leaf, or bud in which its egg is to be deposited ; and in 
some cases the puncture made is very deep. As soon 
as the egg is hatched, the young larva, or maggot, sti- 
mulating the vital principle of the plant, causes the 
f)art in which it is lodged to assume a great degree of 
uxuriance, displayed in various extraordinary excres- 
cences, foreign to the nature of the plant in itself, but 
each appropriated to the particular kind of insect from 
whose operations it springs. The original perforation 
is soon closed up and entirely obliterated. At length, 
the maggot having fed on the juices of the plant, co- 
piously directed to the injured part, undergoes its 
changes to a chrysalis, and finally to a winged fly like 
its parent : it then escapes from its confinement by a 
fresh perforation, and the gall, being left empty, soon 
dries or hardens. 

Such arc briefly the steps in the formation of a 
*• gall-nut.'* The oak is the tree which yields the 
main supply of galls. The light spongy bodies, grow- 
ing on one of the English species of oak, and vulgarly 
termed " oak-apples, " are galls; they grow from the 
stalks of the leaf or flower, or from the young twigs ; 
and there is sometimes a red juicy berry-like excres- 
cence, something like a cranberry, found on the leaves. 
The two kinds used principally in dyeing and ink- 
making arc called the " common" and the " Aleppo" 
gall, the former being brought from the South of 
Europe, and the latter from Western Asia. The 
Aleppo gall-nut is a round body, of an olive-green 
colour : it is hard and heavy, and frequently exhibits 
small protuberances on its surface. When broken it 
is found to consist of four distinct parts, which admit 
of being separated. The external or cortical covering 
is of a close fibrous but thin texture, highly astringent 
to the taste. The part that immediately follows is very 
similar to resin, both in its fracture and lustre ; its 
colour is dark yellowish-brown ; it is very brittle, and 
its taste nauseously astringent and bitter ; on a red-hot 
iron it becomes black, exhales a peculiar odour in 
great abundance, consumes without flame like the cor- 
tical covering, and leaves a little ash. It is bounded 
on the interior by a pale yellowish-brown shell, which 
has many of the properties of ligneous fibre. Lastly, 



this shell encloses, when the gall-nut is sound, an ova] 
kernel, about a quarter of an inch in length, of a brown- 
ish cream colour, or sometimes of a bright chocolate : 
it is insipid unless chewed ; but if chewed, a faint 
sweetish flavour is appreciated, like that of a bad 
almond. 
The common gall-nut differs considerably from the 

I receding, and is easily distinguished. It is of a yel- 
owish colour, not so heavy as the Aleppo gall, nor 
possessed of the same resinous fracture ; it is also 
larger, being about the size of a nutmeg ; less astrin- 
gent, and not capable of making equally good infusions 
with water ; on which latter account it is much less 
valued. 

From very early times the gall-nuts of Syria have 
been esteemed for their excellence as a dye ingredient. 
They are shipped principally from Aleppo, Smyrna, 
and Tripoli ; and hence in some respects have arisen 
their commercial names : but they are brought from 
the interior country. The finest quality of all are 
those obtained near Mosul, about ten days' journey 
from Aleppo, and thence conveyed to Aleppo for 
shipment to Europe. Other kinds nearly as good are 
found near the shores of the Tigris and Euphrates, still 
farther eastward. The inhabitants of Kurdistan have 
this trade chiefly in their own hands : they bring the 
gall-nuts from the interior country to the Levant ports 
during the winter months. The bluest specimens are 
the highest in price, and next to them those of a green- 
ish colour ; the whitest sort is the cheapest, a circum- 
stance which has often led crafty dealers to dye white 
galls to give them greater apparent value. 

Beckmann states, that in the oak-forests of Hungary, 
Moravia, Croatia, and Sclavonia the farmers and fo- 
resters used to notice excrescences growing on the 
trees ; the men subsisted principally by the breeding 
of hogs in the forests ; and they were wont to con- 
sider the frequent occurrence of these excrescences as 
a calamity, since, when they appeared in abundance, 
the crop of acorns, the food of the hogs, was observed 
to be considerably diminished. But they afterwards 
found that these excrescences, which they called 
44 knoppem " or " knobben " (equivalent to the com- 
mon English term " knobs "), were known and valued 
as a means of producing a black dye ; and that the 
profits arising from the sale of this new article of trade 
far surpassed that derived from the acorns. In the 
year 1774 the inhabitants of these provinces obtained 
permission to export this article by sea to* the Austrian 
harbours in the Mediterranean ; and it thenceforth 
became an article of commerce. 

As a substitute for gall-nuts the ancients frequently 
made use of acorn-cups ; and indeed the latter are still 
used in Italy, from whence, in latter times, they have 
found their way into Germany and France. They are 
imported from the Greek islands and Smyrna. It is 
recorded that in 1779, when the supply of " knoppem " 
in the Austrian dominions temporarily failed, a mer- 
chant of Vienna caused upwards of twelve hundred- 
weight of acorn-cups to be sent from Smyrna, which 
he sold with great advantage. These cups, and the 
acorns they contain, are very large ; the former are 
about two inches in diameter, are woolly within, and 
furnished with woody scales on the external surface ; 
the latter are about two inches long, and almost en- 
tirely enclosed by the cup, so that the top only is 
visible. 

Gall-nuts, and the acorn-cups just alluded to, when 
pounded, yield an infusion which becomes the founda- 
tion of one of the most valuable black dyes, whether 
silk, woollen, cotton, or linen be the fabric under 
operation. 

Another class of vegetable products useful in im- 
parting black dye is the bark of several kinds of trees. 



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[February 25, 1843 



The bark of some trees, such as the qusrcus (oak J, the 
berberis (barberry), and the fraxinus (ash), contain 
restringent or colouring particles useful in dyeing. 
The oak is a tree whose bark yields a very valuable 
infusion, both for dyeing and tanning. A description 
of the country-occupation of oak-bark peeling was 
given in one of our early volumes. 

A variety of vegetable substances yield small Quan- 
tities of black dye ingredient, useful in some of the 
modifications of dyeing, but not in the larger, and more 
extensive processes. A black colour is obtained from 
the juice of the casheu>-nut t which will not wash out, 
and even resists the process of boiling with soap or 
alkalies. The juice of a variety of the cashew found 
in the East Indies yields a dye having a brownish tinge. 
The juice of the common sloe might be made to yield 
a bluish-black dye; but the quantity of this plant 
available is too small to make its use important Log- 
wood, although most extensively employed in impart- 
ing a black dye to cloth, cannot so consistently be 
deemed a black as a red dye ; for it gives the latter 
colour as a preparative for the action of other ingre- 
dients which give the black tinge ; its principal effect 
is to give a lustre and beauty to black colours, which 
would otherwise appear what is often termed " rusty." 
The leaves of the arbutus uva ursi have been some- 
times employed as a substitute for galls, in giving a 
pretty good black colour to cloth which has previously 
been dyed blue. Gall-nuts, however, used in conjunc- 
tion with red oxide of iron, constitute the main and 
important agent in black dyeing. 

Broum colours are in many cases imparted by a 
mixed application of black and red, different pro- 
portions or which will give a varied series of browns. 
But there is a class of colours called f axons, which con- 
stitute a brown not capable of being given by mixed 
black and red ; such colours arc largely used in dye- 
ing, and they are generally produced by the action of 
some one substance, according to the tint. Hairmi- 
peels form one of the most useful of these agent*. 
These peels constitute the green covering of the nut ; 
they are internally of a white colour, which is con- 
verted into brown or black by exposure to the air. 
The skin, when impregnated with the juice of walnut- 
peels, becomes of a brown or almost black colour, as 
any one may have noticed who has seen the peelers at 
work. If the decoction of walnut-peels be filtered and 
exposed to the air, its colour becomes of a deep brown ; 
the pellicles in evaporation are almost black, and the 
liquor detached from these yields a brown extract, 
completely soluble in water. A copious precipitate, 
of a fawn colour, approaching to ash, is produced in a 
decoction of walnut-peels by means of a solution of tin, 
and the remaining liquor has a slightly yellow tinge. 

The affinity of cloth for the colouring-matter of 
walnut-peels is said to be very strong, so that the dye 
is taken readily and is durable. In the latest edition 
of Berthollet's work on dyeing it is said— " When it is 
wished to dye with walnut-peels, they are boiled for a 
full quarter of an hour in a copper, in quantity pro- 
portionate to the amount of stun 1 , and to the depth of 
shade that is desired. For cloths, the deepest shades 
are usually begun with, finishing with the lighter ones; 
but for woollen yarn it is commonly the clearest shades 
that we begin with, and the deepest shades are made 
at the end, with the addition of husks for each parcel. 
. . . The root of walnut gives the same shades, but 
for this effect the quantity must be increased : it must 
be reduced to chips." 

Sumach, the bark of the birch-tree, sandal-wood, 
and many other vegetable substances, are employed 
occasionally to give various tints of fawn, drab, or 
brown, according to the circumstances under which 
the operation is conducted, the material of the woven 



fabric, and the quality of the dye ingredient. But 
many of these have been already spoken of while treat- 
ing of plants used in dyeing yellow ; and the rest call 
for no particular remark. 



Decadence of a State, — The templet of antiquity, the cattle* 
of the middle age* are poetical in their decline, for the spirit* 
that peopled them in the days of their splendour still wander 
through the cherithed ruins; but what spirit would coodeecend 
to haunt the mint of a rope-walk f Trade has no spirit, and 
sets none in movement : it knows of nothing but positive specu- 
lations, and sets nothing in movement but legs and arms ; but 
let the wheel stop, and poverty, wretchedness, beggary, are the 
immediate consequences. Alas, to ke poor it no greater hard- 
ship than to be rich, for our wants iucrease with our power of 
gratifying them ; but to become poor, that is bitter, for it carries) 
with it an involuntary feeling of a fall ! How much more, then, 
when it is a nation that has become poor. Spain is not poor, 
they will tell me, for it possesses inexhaustible resources) within 
its own soil ; but of what worth are those resources to people 
who know uot how to bring them into play ? At the time of 
the Moon, Spain contained twenty millions of inhabitants ; — 
some say thirty; — now it does uot contain ten. The land was 
then rich and nourishing, and sufficed for all the wants of a 
luxurious population. Of course it must theu have possessed 
resources, that became dormant in proportion as the population 
melted together. The land remains uncultivated because roads 
and canals are wanting for the conveyance of its produce. Tins 
plains of Castile grow the finest wheat in the world ; and when 
grown it is given to the pigs, because the grower has no means 
of conveying it to a market. There is no trade but aloug the 
coast, and even there it is almost exclusively in the hands of 
smugglers. The laud that once monopolised the trade of both 
the Indies, the land that could fit out the Invincible Armada for 
the conquest of England, po ssesse s at present not a single man-of- 
war, and lias no commerce but what is carried on by smugglers ! 
— Letters of the Counteu Hakn-Hahn ; /rum the Foreign Quar- 
terly Heview. 

Village* of /As Warow; m Briluh Gmana.— The Mawrilm 
grow in clusters at thick at treat can grow ; the Warow selects 
one of these groves, and fells the trees about four feet from the 
surface, on their stumps he lays a floor of the split trunks; tbe 
troolics are generally adjacent for the roof, but if uot, the eta 
leaf serves ; lumps of clay are laid on the floor, on which fires 
are made, which at night illuminate tlte tops of the adjacent 
trees, as if they were actually inhabited ; but the habitation is 
an irregular hut, raited oti a platform just above the level of the 
water, which in these regions is three feet above the earth for 
three-fourths of the year. Some of them can contain 150 
people. Their duration is coeval with the supply of aroo (starch 
or arrow-root), or eta starch, or tlie completion of the formation 
of a corial or canoe. When an eta tree begins to fructify, it is 
cut down, a large slice it cut off one side, and the stringy sub- 
stance of the interior is cut into shreds, the remainder of the 
trunk serving as a trough, in which it is triturated with water, 
by which it disengaged a considerable quantity of starch ; tbe 
fibrous particles are then extracted, and tbe sediment or aroo 
formed into moulds like bricks. This is spread out, on stones 
or iron plates, over the fire, and makes a very nutritive, but at 
the same time most immasticable bread — it must be unavoid- 
ably bolted, being so very viscous that chewing absolutely locks 
the jaw : it is, nevertheless, excellent to thicken soup, sind is a 
general specific for diarrhoeas and dysenteries, which in these 
aquatic regions are the prevailing diseases. In the green part 
of the trunk, a beetle of about an inch and a half long, with a 
long snout, which lays its eggs, and in about a fortnight grubs, 
about the site of the two first joints of the- forefinger, makes its 
appearance. These are a favourite fry both of the Warows 
and the Creoles; they are scarcely distinguishable from beef 
marrow. — HiUhoum"e Memoir, in Geographical Journal, vol. iv. 



The difference between desultory reading and a course of 
study may be aptly illustrated by comparing the former to a 
number of mirrors set in a straight line, so that every one of 
them reflects a different object, and the latter to the same mirrors 
so skilfully arranged as to perpetuate one set of objects in an 
endless series of reflections.— Gueeeee at Truth, 



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73 



A DAY AT THE ROYAL PORCELAIN-WORKS, WORCESTER. 



[Potter's Wheel—' Thrower, * Ball-maker/ and Wheel-turner,' at work.] 



Those among our readers who may have witnessed 
the remarkable " Chinese Exhibition " near Hyde 
Park (and well would it be if the price of admission 
permitted all classes to visit this singular memento of 
a singular nation), cannot fail to have observed the 
sumptuous specimens of porcelain there deposited — the 
vases, jars, cups, and other vessels; and may then 
have conjectured whether or not England can produce 
specimens equal to these. China has, by a sort of pre- 
scriptive right, been deemed the land of porcelain, the 
country whose inhabitants occupy the first rank in the 
production of this most delicate, chaste, and elegant 
semi-transparent material. Thanks to the inquiries 
and ingenuity of travellers, manufacturers, and men of 
science — who have discovered the nature of the prin- 
cipal substances employed by the Chinese, the localities 
in which they may be found in Europe, and who have 
employed the services of painters far more skilful than 
any to be found in China — our country now produces 
specimens of porcelain possessing all those claims to 
admiration which the " Celestial Empire " has put 
forth for its manufacture, and — in respect to pictorial 
embellishment — others in which our Asiatic friends 
cannot for a moment share. 

The " good city of Worcester" is one of the spots in 
England where the manufacture of the higher kinds 
of porcelain is located. Those topographers and local 
historians who love to trace the steps of royalty, have 
recorded the visits of King George and Queeu Char- 
lotte to the " Royal Porcelain-works " at Worcester, 
as one of the most marked features in the district ; 
and indeed the high fame which Worcester porcelain 
has acquired gives the town reason to be somewhat 
proud in the possession of such a manufacture. For 

no 700. 



a long period two eminent firms among others, viz., 
Messrs. Flight, Barr, and Barr, and Messrs. Chamber- 
lain, carried on this branch of manufacture inde- 
pendent of each other : but these two firms have now 
merged into one, which combines the resources of 
both; and the " Royal Porcelain-works" of Messrs. 
Chamberlain and Co. — an extended firm — are now the 
representative of both. To the courtesy of these gentle- 
men, then, our thanks are due for permission to view 
and describe the processes conducted in this highly in- 
teresting establishment. 

Everybody knows that porcelain is the same ma- 
terial as that which is commonly termed 'China' 
(a name which in itself does homage to the original 
producers of the substance), but the meaning of the 
name is not so well known. One authority* says 
— "The Portuguese traders were the means of in- 
troducing the fine earthenwares of China into more 
general use in Europe ; and the name assigned to the 
fabric, as distinguishing it from the coarser descriptions 
of pottery of domestic manufacture, was most pro- 
bably given by them— porcellana signifying, in the 
Portuguese language, a cup ;" while another authority t 
states — " It has been satisfactorily shown by Marsden, 
that the word porcelain, or porcellana, was applied by 
Europeans to the ware of China, from the resemblance 
of its fine polished surface to that of the univalve 
shell so named ; while the shell itself derived its 
appellation from the curved or gibbous shape of its 
upper surface, which was thought to resemble the 
raised back of zporcella, or little hog." Leaving the 
reader to select between the ' cup/ and the ' little hog,* 
* * Lardner's Cyclopaedia.' 
f Davia : * The Chinese/ chap. 17. 



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as the forerunner of the name, we will quit this matter 
by stating that the manufacture to which our attention 
will be directed is strictly that of porcelain in its most 
highly finished form, and does not include the com- 
moner kinds of produce classed under the general 
name of pottery. 

The factory is situated near the cathedral of Wor- 
cester, and not far from the Severn, which flows 
through the city ; and from the upper windows a 
glance across the Severn shows the blue outline of 
the Malvern Hills in the distance. In this as in many 
other large factories there is a central court or area, 
surrounded by buildings of various forms and dimen- 
sions, suited for the processes of manufacture. The 
general arrangement of these may be indicated by 
following the processes in their natural order. 

First, there is the building in which the crude ma- 
terials are brought into a plastic or working state. 
Here we see a ponderous circular stone, nearly four 
tons in weight, working round in a circle on its edge, 
and crushing beneath it the stony ingredients of the 
porcelain. Then, in another part of the building, is a 
circular vessel, provided with a stirring apparatus, 
for further preparing the substances by the aid of 
water. The mixing-room, in another place, contains 
the vessels in which the pounded ingredients are 
worked up into a smooth kind of clay, fitted for the 
purposes of the workman. 

Following the prepared material to the hands of the 
workman, we visit the ' throwing-room,' where the 
remarkable process of forming circular vessels is con- 
ducted. This is a long and busily occupied shop, con- 
taining a great number of men employed as we shall 
describe presently. Kilns in gicat number aic dis- 
posed conveniently, with respect not only to the 
• thro wing- room,' but to the other workshops ; for 
there are * biscuit-kilns/ ' glaze-kilns,' and 'cnainel- 
kilna,' according to the state of the process in which 
heat has to be applied to the ware. 

Various rooms, called ' placing-room,' • dipping- 
room,' 4 white-ware room/ * modelling-room,' * mould- 
ing-room,' 4 pressing-room/ &c, arc disposed round the 
open area, for the prosecution of various processes in 
the course of the manufacture ; to which succeed others 
known as the 4 minting' and 'burnishing' rooms, in 
which those elaborate decorations are given to the 
manufactured article which form one of the most 
marked features 01' distinction between it and common 
pottery-ware. Then we come to the warehouses in 
which the finished product is stored. Lastly, there arc 
shops, drying-rooms, and kilns, for the manufacture of 
the • tessellated tiles,' which are now becoming so ex- 
tensively used. 

We have glanced at the buildings, and now let us 
glance at the workmen, and the remarkable processes 
by which the costly specimens of porcelain arc pro- 
duced. The rough ingredients, too, must have a 
passing notice. 

The ingredients to form porcelain may to many 
persons seem rather strange. They consist of common 
flint, flint in the calcined state, Cornish stone, Cornish 
clay, and calcined bone, all ground and mixed to- 
gether with water, so as to form a beautifully fine and 
plastic clay. Numerous and intricate have been the 
researches into the respective value of different kinds 
of material, and the particular quality which each one 
gives to the porcelain. The clay employed, as its 
name imports, is brought from Cornwall, and is found 
to possess qualities wanting in most other kinds of 
English clay. For the commoner kinds of pottery, 
clay brought from Dorsetshire and Devonshire is 
largely employed ; but for the more exquisite spe- 
cimens of porcelain this Cornish clay is preferred. 
Until about a century ago, the strangest views were 



entertained in Europe resj>ecting the composition and 
nature of Chinese porcelain ; and it was not till after 
many researches that Reaumur found that the mixture 
of the two peculiar kinds of earth found in .China, 
called pe-tun-Ue and hao-lin, produced porcelain. It 
then became an object to discover whether any earths 
similar to these existed in Europe; and at length Mr. 
Cookworthy, about seventy years ago, discovered ia 
Cornwall two kinds of earth which nearly answered 
the desired character. From that time to the present 
various improvements and additions have been made 
in the ingredients employed, with a view to produce a 
porcelain possessing hardness, strength, firmness of 
texture, whiteness of colour, and a capacity of receiv- 
ing and retaining colours and gilding on its surface. 
The Cornish clay is by far the most costly clay em- 
ployed in such works ; but for the finer porcelain it is 
deemed indispensable. We may perhaps say, in ac- 
counting for the respective value of the ingredients, 
that the clay gives the plastic or working quality, the 
flint imparts the vitreous or strengthening quality, 
and the bone aids in producing the semi-transparency 
for which porcelain is so deservedly admired. 

The ingredients have different degrees of hardness, 
but all must be reduced to an impalpable powder 
before being mixed. They are laid on a circular bed, 
as represented in the cut, and ground by the pressure 



[Grinding the Flint, Clay, fee] 

of the bulky and ponderous stone roller. They are 
then transferred to a large circular vessel containing 
water, and by means of stirrers, sieves, and other ap- 
pliances, brought into the condition of a creamy liquid, 
totally free from any gritty particles. It is astonish- 
ing to see the degree of fineness thus produced, as 
manifested by the extreme minuteness of the meshes 
or interstices of the sieve through which everything 
must pass before being deemed fitted for the manu- 
facture. 

Various depositories or receptacles are provided, 
in which the ingredients are placed separately during 
the course of their preparation ; and from these they 
are conveyed to the ' mixing-room,' where they are 
combined together. Here the experience and judg- 
ment of the manufacturer are brought into operation : 
he has to determine not only the number and kind of 
ingredients which will produce a ware fitted for 
service, but also the proportions in which these in- 
gredients are to be combined. It is not improbable 



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th.it each eminent firm has a recipe peculiar to itself, 
as is known often to be the case in the glass manu- 
facture, and many other manufactures in which several 
ingredients are employed. Without making any guess 
then, as to the proportions used in the establishment 
to which our details relate, we may proceed to state 
that the ingredients are mixed together in large square 
vessels, the utmost attention being paid to the intimate 
union of all the different kinds. The mixture pre- 
sents the appearance of a kind of drab-coloured liquid, 
which is then evaporated to a certain degree of thick- 
ness or stiffness by heat applied beneath it. In short 
it is by Hie agency of heat that the cream-like liquid 
becomes a plastic workable clay, fitted for the hands of 
the potter. Constant attention is necessary throughout 
this process, to equalize the rate of evaporation and to 
retain the ingredients in perfect combination while it 
is going on. 

To the ' throwing-room * and the • potter's wheel ' 
we now direct our attention, where a process is con- 
ducted which has never failed to excite the astonish- 
ment of a spectator who witnesses it for the first time ; 
nay, there are many who find the comprehension of 
the process almost as difficult after many visits as after 
the first. Never docs any one agent appear a more 
complete master over another than the potter is of his 
clay : he seems as if he could do anything, everything, 
wim it. At one moment his mass of clay is a shape- 
less heap ; at another a circular cake ; then a ball ; 
then a pillar or cylinder, hollow or solid ; then a jug ; 
then a basin ; a sudden turn converts it into a bottle, 
or a plate, or a saucer. His hands work and form the 
plastic material with a rapidity almost inconceivable ; 
and we often doubt where the clay seems to come from, 
and whither it goes, when one form is being ex- 
changed for another. It is true that, in practice, the 
potter does not give all these several forms to one in- 
dividual mass of clay ; but a visitor has frequently an 
opportunity to see that the man can do so. What a 
pity, some may say, that such an elegant process (for 
such it assuredly is) should be thrown away upon wet 
dirty clay; but in truth the peculiar state of the clay 
is the very circumstance which gives to the potter such 
a command over it. But let us look at the arrange- 
ments of the potter's shop before we describe his ope- 
rations. 

Why such a room should be called a * throwing- 
room,' or why the formation of circular vessels should 
be called * throwing,' it does not seem very easy to 
determine. There is a circular motion in pottery- 
throwing and also in silk-throwing ; but why the same 
term should be applied in both cases, or wliy applied 
at all, we do not see. Wc believe, however, that 
' throw ' is a provincial name for a lathe ; and if so, an 
explanation is easily provided, by considering the 
potter's wheel as a lathe or throw. The throwing- 
room, however, be its appellation good or bad, is an 
oblong room, containing a great number of benches 
and pieces of apparatus, at which men arc employed 
making circular articles of soft porcelain. 

Our frontispiece shows one of the most ancient 
working tools, or machines, which any branch of 
manufacture can exhibit — the 'potter's-wheel.' Scarcely 
any other machine has lived so long and undergone so 
little change. On the Egyptian monuments and on 
other records of antiquity there are representations of 
the potter's-wheel similar in all the essential particu- 
lars to those of our own day ; indeed nothing can be 
more simple than the construction. In the potter 
himself, and not in the wheel, lies the merit of the 
work executed. The potter sits on a kind of stool or 
bench, immediately benind a small circular whirling- 
table. His knees are placed one on each side of the 
central support of the machine, so as to give him a 



command over it. This, which we have called the 
whirling-table, is simply a circular piece of wood, 
whose breadth is sufficient to support the widest ves- 
sel that is to be made : it is fixed on the top of a ver- 
tical stem or shaft, so that if the shaft be made to 
rotate, the piece of wood must rotate likewise. The 
apparatus is rather below the height of a common 
table. The clay which is to be formed into a vessel is 
put upon the circular board, and there remains till 
fashioned ; the board and the shaft beneath being made 
to rotate horizontally, while the potter with his hands 
gives the form to the mass of clay. 

Every potter, or • thrower,' is attended by two boys, 
who are called the • ball-maker ' and the « wheel- 
turner.' The former of these has before him or near 
him a mass of prepared clay, having precisely the 
quality and consistence required for the potter's ope- 
rations. He separates the clay into smaller masses, 
each suited to the manufacture of one particular kind 
of vessel, and works it up into a rude kind of ball, 
convenient to be handled by the thrower. He is in 
every way the servant or helper to the thrower. The 
services of the * wheel-turner ' depend on the manner 
in which the circular piece of wood is made to rotate. 
In the early state of the porcelain manufacture in 
England, the perpendicular shaft beneath the board 
was put in motion by a wheel provided with spokes, 
which the ' thrower' moved with his foot ; the labour 
however was so great, that this method became un- 
suitcd to the production of large articles. Another 
method in past times was, to have a crank in the middle 
of the shaft, with a long rod working upon it, and 
motion was given to the lathe by the rod being pushed 
backward and forward. The customary mode at the 
present day is, however, to have a rope passing from 
a pulley upon the perpendicular shaft to a large wheel 
at a distance, which wheel is turned by a boy under 
the directions of the * thrower.' 

With this very simple kind of lathe, and with a few 
small tools still more simple, does the workman pro- 
ceed to fashion all those articles of porcelain which 
are circular in their form, whether cups, basins, or 
vessels of any other kinds. When the shape is too 
diversified to be deemed circular, other modes of form- 
ation must be adopted, of which more hereafter. Let 
us suppose, as an example, that a hemispherical basin 
is to be formed. The man places a mass of clay, in 
size and consistence suited for the purpose, upon the 
bed of his lathe or wheel, striking it down rather 
forcibly as a means of making it hold firmly to the 
wood during the process of formation. He gives 
directions to his ' wheel-turner ' to set the machine in 
motion, and then forms the shapeless mass into a ves- 
sel, chiefly by his hands. With his hands, wetted in an 
adjacent vessel of water, he presses the clay while 
rotating, and brings it into a cylindrical form ; this 
cylinder he forces again down into a lump, and conti- 
nues these operations — squeezing the clay into various 
shapes — until he has pressed out every air-bubble from 
the body of clay, a precaution of very great importance. 
Then pressing the two thumbs on the top of the mass, 
he indents or hollows it, as a first germ of the internal 
hollow of the vessel. Once having the least semblance 
of a cavity within, he proceeds with a rapidity almost 
marvellous to give both the outward and the inward 
contour to the vessel. With the thumbs inside and 
the fingers outside, he so draws, and presses, and 
moulds the plastic material, as to give to the outside a 
convexity, to the inside a concavity, and to the whole 
substance an uniform consistency, without breaking 
the clay or disturbing the circular form of the vessel. 
It will be seen on a moment's consideration that this 
circular form is due to the rotation of the clay, while 
the fingers and thumbs are stationary, just as a turner 

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holds bis cutting-chisel stationary while the piece of 
wood is rotating. 

During the pressure of the hands upon the clay, a 
minute change in the amount or direction of the pres- 
sure would transform the basin into a saucer, or into 
any other vessel whose degree of curvature is very 
different from that of a basin. The oddness of these 
transformations might often make a spectator smile, 
were not his admiration excited by the cleverness and 
dexterity of the workman who produces them. Ac- 
cording to the shape and size of the vessel, the 
' thrower ' requires tne wheel and ihe mass of clay to 
rotate with varying degrees of velocity, in which he 
instructs his * wheel-turner.' 

The general contour of the vessels, inside and out, 
is given by the thumbs, fingers, and palms of the 
hands. But as this could not insure accuracy suffi- 
cient, the workman is provided with small pieces of 
wood called • profiles,' or * ribs,' each of which is 
shaped in accordance with cither the exterior or the 
interior of some particular kind and form of vessel. 
Holding one of these * ribs ' in his hand, and applying 
it to the surface of the clay, the workman scrapes on 
the superfluous portion at any protuberant or mis- 
shapen part, and makes the whole circumference con- 
form to the shape of the rib. The fragments thus re- 
moved, technically called ' slurry,' he throws aside 
among the unused clay. If a number of vessels arc 
to be exactly the same size, the workman sometimes 
fixes pegs in the stand on which the clay is placed, 
which act as a guide to him in regulating tne diameter 
to which the clay is to be expanded, and beyond which 
it must not reach. When the vessel, by the aid of the 
hands and the small working tools, is formed, it is cut 
from the supporting piece of clay or from the board 
by means of a piece of brass wire, much in the same 
manner as barrelled butter is cut into slices, and the 
newly-formed vessel is placed on a board or shelf 
to dry. 

In this manner vast varieties cf vessels arc formed, 
comprising all those which present, both on the exte- 
rior and the interior, an uniform circularity. And in- 
deed not only are vessels thus formed, but masses of 
clay are similarly brought into a cylindrical form, as a 
nucleus from which ornamental articles may afterwards 
be produced at the turning-lathe. Within the last few 
years the use of porcelain has greatly extended, in re- 
lation to articles both useful and ornamental. Candle- 
sticks, taper-stands, fancy baskets, door-handles, 
finger-plates, and a host of other articles, are now 
made of this material ; and if the form is such as 
can be given by the lathe, a mass of clay is first 
worked by the hand into something like a cylindrical 
shape, as a preparative for the operations of the turner. 
The floor of the « throwing-room ' at the factory under 
notice was filled with these cylindrical masses, tech- 
nically called * solids/ some of which were to be turned 
at the lathe into banister-rails for staircases, and others 
into articles of various other kinds. 

The operation of turning these articles is effected 
very much in the same manner as the turning of wood. 
The * solids ' are allowed to remain until, by the evapo- 
ration of moisture from the damp clay, they have ac- 
quired a degree of dryness which is known among the 
workmen as the ' green state/ in which state the shaping 
and smoothing of the surface arc better effected than 
when the clay is either damper or drier. As a turner 
in wood can produce an internal cylindrical cavity as 
well as a circular exterior, so can the porcelain-turner ; 
and it is in this way that candlesticks and similar ar- 
ticles are brought to the required shape. 

We have now, in supposition, made circular vessels, 
and turned them to the required shape and smoothness. 
But before we follow them through their subsequent 



progress, it is desirable to witness the production of 
those articles which neither the potter's wheel nor the 
lathe will produce ; articles which exhibit in an es- 
pecial degree the magnificence and delicacy of the 
liner kinds of porcelain. This will take us to the 
workshops of the 4 pressors,* the * mould-makers/ and 
the 4 modellers ;' for the decorated articles are pro- 
duced by pressing or by pouring clay into moulds, 
which moulds must previously be made from models, 
and whieli models must have been before formed by 
hand. Hence the modeller is the all-important work- 
man whom we must first visit. 

In an upper room of the factory are the operations 
of the man of taste, the * modeller,* conducted. Here, 
whatever our Schools of Design, or education, or natu- 
ral ability could afford, in the development of a know- 
ledge in elegance of form, is important and valuable. 
The modeller, from drawings made either by himself 
or by others, has to build up in clay the exact repre- 
sentative of the article to be formed in porcelain. From 
the handle of a tea-cup up to the most elaborate com- 
bination for a piece of drawing-room porcelain furni- 
ture, the modeller haft to prepare an accurate original 
in soft clay. Provided with a supply of clav, espe- 
cially prepared for this kind of work, and wilfi a lew 
simple tools, he elaborates the various parts of his 
design, whether animals, fruit, flowers, foliage, archi- 
tectural ornaments, arabesques, or any of the countless 
varieties of decorative devices ; building up his model 
piecemeal, and carving or cutting out the parts as he 
proceeds. It has been aptly observed by Mr. Porter, 
that " the taste of the modeller is put in requisi- 
tion ; calling for the execution on his part of a high 
degree of nkill and ingenuity in forming patterns, 
and adapting to them appropriate ornaments. To be 
a perfect modeller, in the higher branches of the 
art, a man should have an acquaintance with the 
best productions of the classic climes of Greece and 
Rome ; he should be master of a competent knowledge 
of the art of design ; his fancy glowing with originality, 
tempered and guided by elegance and propriety of 
feeling, and restrained by correctness of taste and 
judgment. To a man thus gifted, the plastic and 
well-tempered material wherewith he works offers 
little of difficulty in the execution of his conceptions." 

When we visited the studio of the modeller at these 
works, he was engaged upon an elaborate model of a 
kind of tripod or stand, comprising a vast number of 
parts, all highly decorated. It is only in the costly 
articles which require canting that the model is thus ela- 
borate : when it can be produced by pressing, the pre- 
paration of the model is generally more simple. The 
difference between these two modes of manufacture is 
this : — that, in pressing, the shallowness of the mould 
is such that clay, in its usual plastic state, can be 
pressed into all the minute devices of the mould ; 
while, in casting, the mould is so deep and elaborate 
that the clay has to be poured into it in the state of a 
cream-like liquid. Plates, saucers, oval vessels, lids, 
spouts, handles, and a large variety of articles which 
are too irregular to be produced at the potters-wheel 
and the latne, and yet not so complex as to require 
casting, are produced by pressing. But both for press- 
ing and for casting moulds must be made, and these 
moulds are reversed copies of models produced by the 
modeller ; so that this workman's services are required 
for all. 

Plaster of Paris, prepared in a particular way, is the 
substance of which the moulds are made. The making 
of the moulds is quite a distinct occupation from that 
of modelling, and is carried on in a different part of 
the factory. A casing of clay is first formed and se- 
curely fixed round the model, leaving sufficient space 
between it and the model for the substance of the 



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mould. The plaster of Paris, being mixed with water 
to a cream-like liquid, is then poured into the vacant 
space. In a very short time, in virtue of the well- 
known qualities of this substance, the plaster solidifies 
into a compact mass, which is easily separable from the 
model. Tne interior of this mould is then found to 
give a perfect counter-representation of the exterior of 
the model, in all its minuteness of detail. The model 
is lastly dried, to prepare it for further use. 

For pressing, the mould is sometimes made in two 
parts, one half of the figure being on one side, and the 
other half on the other ; the two being made to fit ac- 
curately together. Clay is pressed into each half of 
the mould, and cut off flush, so as to have no super- 
fluity ; and the two halves of the mould being brought 
closely together, each piece of clay receives its impress 
from the half of the mould in which it lies, and the 
two pieces are at the same time joined together : so 
that one piece is produced, presenting a fac-simile of 
both halves of the mould. This mode is adopted in 
the preparation of a large diversity or variety of articles. 
Another arrangement, for the production of plain 
handles, spouts, &c., is to force clay through an orifice 
in the bottom of a cylinder, the orifice having 
that shape which is to be given to the clay. A 
third arrangement, where one surface of a shallow ves- 
sel, such as a saucer or a plate, requires to be moulded, 
while the other can be formed without a mould, is to 
lay a flat piece of clay on the mould, press it down 
with a wet sponge, and give a proper form to the ex- 
posed surface by a profile or gauge applied to the wet 
clay while the latter is revolving. The annexed cut 
represents a few ornamental articles which required to 
be produced by pressure, and the moulds used in the 
pressing. 



[Moulds for Porcelain, and Casts.] 

So varied and numerous are the articles now made 
of porcelain, that it would be utterly impracticable to 
classify them all in respect of the mode of manu- 
facture ; but it will suffice to say that all are produced 
by one or other of the modes above noticed, viz., 
throwing at the wheel, aided by profiles or gauges; 
turning at the lathe ; pressing through an orifice in a 
cylinder ; pressing one side on a mould, while the 
other side is fashioned by a gauge ; pressing between 
two moulds, or the two halves of a mould • and casting 
while the clay is in a liquid form. In the last-men- 
tioned mode of proceeding, the plaster of the mould 
quickly absorbs water from the liquid clay which lies 
m contact with its surface, and brings it to a solid 
state; and a hardened shell having been thus pro- 
duced, the subsequent arrangements arc such as to 
make the cast either hollow or solid, according to its 
form and dimensions. 



Many a tea-drinker has probably marvelled how the 
handle of a tea-cup is produced ; whether it is 
fashioned by hand out of the same piece of clay which 
forms the cup, or cast in a mould with it, or fixed on 
separately. The preceding details will have prepared 
us to understand the real state of the matter, — that 
the cup, if not too elaborate in form, is * thrown ' at 
the wheel ; that the handle is pressed in a mould, 
and that the one is afterwards affixed to the other. 
Handles, spouts, knobs, and small raised ornaments 
are all attached to the vessels in a similar way, and 
when the latter are in the ' g*een state,' between wet 
and dry. The cement employed is simply a creamy 
mixture of clay and water, technically termed ' slip,' 
which is applied to the two surfaces to be joined to- 
gether, and which enables them to adhere permanently. 
The clay handle or spout is in such a soft state, that 
considerable neatness and dexterity are requisite, 
especially in curving the strip of pressed or moulded 
clay which is to form the handle — a process repre- 
sented in the annexed cut. The raised or relief orna- 



[Fixing Handles.] 

ments seen on articles of porcelain are made separately 
in a mould, and cemented on the vessel by the aid Of 
* slip/ except when the vessel is of such a kind as to 
require to be cast or pressed, in which case the orna- 
ments are generally made as part of the pattern itself 
in the mould. Some of the workmen at the factory 
were engaged in preparing elegant little taper-stands, 
the construction of which illustrates conveniently the 
combination of the different modes of manufacture: 
for the lower saucer or dish had been pressed in a 
mould ; the nozzle had been made into a * solid ' at the 
wheel and then turned at the lathe ; the handle had 
been formed in a double mould ; and lastly, all these 
were joined together with * slip.' 

Let us suppose, then, that we have traced all the 
various kinds of porcelain articles to a finished state in 
respect of their form and decorations ; the tea-pots 
furnished with handles and spouts, the cups with 



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[February, 1S43 



handles, the jugs with lips, and the more highly de- 
corated articles provided with all which the * thrower,' 
the • turner/ the * prcsser,* and the ' caster ' can do 
lor them. We shall next be prepared to follow them 
through the subsequent processes which impart that 
exquisite appearance so especially belonging to porce- 
lain. 

Adjacent to the buildings where the early stages of 
the manufacture are carried on are four ' biscuit- 
kilns/ in which the ware is exposed to an intense 
heat. These kilns are probably about fourteen feet 
high, and nearly as much in diameter. They are 
heated by fires ranged round the circumference, 
each kiln having eight fire-places. The whole in- 
terior capacity is fitted for the reception of the articles 
to be * fired/ or * baked.' Very great precautions are 
necessary in this process ; for, if the smoke or flame 
from the fire attacked thcporcelain, it would discolour 
it at once, and spoil it. To prevent this mischance, all 
the manufactured articles arc put into receptacles 
called ' Beggars/ such as are here represented • these 



[Putting manufactured articles into ' ScgRRrs.*] 

are made principally of a kind of fire-clay capable of 
resisting an intense heat; and so important are they, 
that the acquisition of the sort of clay fitted for the 
purpose has always been deemed a momentous point 
on the part of the manufacturer. The seggars are of 
various sizes, shapes, and depths, to suit the different 
pieces they are to contain. According to the size and 
shape of the articles, they are either enclosed one in 
each seggar, or several in each ; but in the latter case 
precautions arc taken that they should not adhere 
together, nor touch each other at more than two or 
three points : powdered flint is placed at the bottom of 
the seggars, and pieces of hard fire-clay are so placed 
within the seggar, that the articles may be supported 
with as little contact as possible one with another. 

The piling of the seggars in the 4 biscuit-kiln ' is a 
singular arrangement. The whole interior is filled 
with them. The top and bottom of each seggar (the 



former open and the latter closed) being flat, they may 
be piled one on another, so that eacli one forms a 
cover for the one underneath. As the heat cannot be 
perfectly equalized throughout the kiln, care is :akcn 
that the larger articles shall be exposed to a higher 
temperature than the smaller. Thus seggar is laid 
upon seggar, and pile after pile built up within the kiln, 
till the whole is filled. Every aperture is then care- 
fully closed— of which the mam one is, of course, the 
door through which the men enter the kiln— aud all 
is ready for the fires to be lighted beneath. The 
general appearance of the kiln while being filled is 
here represented. 



[Placing the 'Seggnrs' in ih« * Biscuit-kiln.'] 

We do not know whether it is a customary arrange- 
ment in porcelain factories generally, or whether it 
merely applies to the one which is the object of our 
visit; but here the kiln-fires are lighted at a very 
early hour on Friday morning, and the articles are 
kept exposed to a fierce white heat throughout Friday 
and Saturday, forty hours being about the length of 
time during which they arc thus exposed. The precise 
amount of * firing * necessary is a delicate point, to be 
determined only by experience: it must be sufficient 
to expel all the moisture, and to convert the clay into 
a kind of semi-vitreous earth, but not beyond this 
point. 

The baked articles are allowed to cool gradually be- 
fore being drawn from the kiln ; and when so drawn 
they have acquired the state which is called ' biscuit/ 
Every article shrinks considerably while in the kiln, 
and the weight is very materially lessened. The bis- 
cuit-ware has a peculiarly delicate, soft, and white 
appearance, presenting many points of striking differ- 
ence compared with its unbaked slate. Every article, 
as taken out of the seggar, is nicely cleaned, to remove 
all symptoms of flint-dust, &c. ; and it is then ready 
for the process of 'glazing/ by which the dead anil 



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unpolished surface of the biscuit is converted into a 
beautiful glassy surface. 

One of the most important steps in the progress of 
the porcelain manufacture has been the discovery of 
substances fitted to impart this * glaze ' to porcelain. 
Any of the substances which will make glass will af- 
ford a glaze to pottery ; and these substances comprise 
various alkalies, various oxides of metals, and flint in a 
variety of forms : but what is the best combination to 
form a glaze for the more delicate kinds of porcelain 
is a question which has occupied much attention, not 
only among manufacturers, but among chemists also. 
In the commonest kinds of earthenware or pottery the 
cheapest ingredients are those most resorted to ; but 
in costly porcelain a totally different system is pur- 
sued, tne excellence of the material being a much 
more important matter than the smallnessof the price. 
We believe that in this, as in the choice of clays for 
making the porcelain, each large establishment has a 
recipe of its own, derived from the experience of the 
proprietors. 

In one part of the factory is a room called the • dip- 
ping-room/ adjacent to four • glaze-kilns.' In the dip- 
ping-room are troughs or wooden vessels containing 
the glaze, a whitish creamy liquid. The room is kept 
at a moderate warmth, and is provided with conveni- 
ences for placing the porcelain articles, both before 
and after being dipped. The pieces of 'baked' or 
• fired * porcelain being brought into this room, a work- 
man takes them up one by one, holds them in such a 
manner that there shall be the smallest amount of con- 
tact between them and his fingers, and dips them into 
the trough of glaze. By one of those manipulations 
which are peculiar to most occupations, he turns the 
vessel about, on removing it from the glaze, in such a 
manner that, while every part shall be coated, none 
shall have any superabundance but what may easily be 
drained off. The vessels arc put down out of his hand, 
one by one, on a board, which is thence carried to the 
'glaze-kiln placing-room.' In this latter room they 
are piled up in seggars, nearly in the same way as be- 
fore, but with certain modifications to suit the pecu- 
liarity of the circumstances. 

The glaze-kilns, like the biscuit-kilns, are each 
heated by eight fires, and are each filled up with piles of 
seggars; but in the glaze-kilns the slight opening be- 
tween the several seggars of each pile is stopped with 
clay, to prevent more effectually the entrance of smoke 
and flame into the seggar. The heat for vitrifying the 
glaze is much less intense than for biscuit-firing, and 
is continued for a much smaller number of hours. The 
operation consists in driving off the watery parts of the 
glaze, and melting the vitreous part, which, in a vitre- 
ous state, combines firmly with the biscuit. Where 
we find, in the cheaper articles of manufacture, the 
glaze to become discoloured, or the ware discoloured 
under the glaze, or the glaze intersected by myriads of 
minute cracks, this always indicates either that a bad 
choice of ingredients was made, or that the manage- 
ment of the glaze-kiln was injudicious ; and this is 
one of the many points in which first-rate porcelain 
shows its excellence. 

We have now brought the porcelain to what might 
be deemed a finished state, so tar as regards the actual 
service demanded from it : but it is very rarely that 
such porcelain as we are now considering leaves the 
hands of the manufacturer in this state ; it is nearly 
always decorated either with painting or gilding, or 
both, before it passes into the hands of the customer. 
Wc follow it therefore to one of the largest and most 
interesting rooms in the factory, known as the • paint- 
ing-room.' This is a long room, provided on both 
sides with rows of windows, through which an ample 
tup ply of light is obtained. Close to the windows are 



a range of tables, at which the painters are seated, 
each one with his side to the light. At the time of 
our visit a large number of persons were thus engaged, 
each one holding in his left hand some article or other 
of porcelain which he was painting with his right. 
The odour indicated that various mineral colours, 
mixed up with oil and turpentine, formed the material 
of the paint. Each man had a pallet of colour before 
him, which he laid on the porcelain with a camel-hair 
pencil, much in the same manner as a miniature- 
painter would do. 

In China this branch of manufacture is so sub- 
divided, that one man paints blue, another red, another 
yellow, &c, so that each article goes through a great 
number of hands during the process of painting. But 
in England the subdivision is more rational. One 
man takes flowers, another foliage, a third animals, a 
fourth landscape, a fifth figures, a sixth heraldic bear- 
ings, and so forth; confining themselves mainly to 
that which their taste and studies have enabled them 
to effect artistically. Consequently, in walking from 
one part of the painting-room to another, we witnessed 
in succession the labours of all these classes of artists. 
Each painter holds the piece of porcelain against a 
projecting part of his table, so as to retain it firmly ; 
or else, if a circular ornament is to go round it, lie 
rests it on a support which may enable it to rotate 
with facility. The colours employed in this process 
are chiefly oxides of various metals, worked up to a 
liquid state with spirits of tar and of turpentine, and 
amber oil. Those ornaments which are subsequently 
to present the brilliant golden appearance so familiar 
to us on the better kinds of porcelain, are effected by a 
preparation of refined gold mixed up With some of 
the liquids just mentioned into a dark brown colour, 
which nas no semblance to a golden hue until after it 
has been burned in a kiln. 

Some of the articles of porcelain have a white or 
unpainted ground, decorated with coloured ornaments ; 
while others are painted over the whole surface with a 
ground colour, the laying on of which is the work of a 
particular set of painters, who show great art in the 
uniform tinting produced. For instance, we saw some 
of the painters engaged on a costly service of porcelain 
for the distinguished Hindoo who has recently visited 
England — Dwarkanauth Tagore, in which the ground 
was a delicate tint of green, produced by a different 
manipulation from that which imparts the decorative 
devices. In some parts of the room there were herald- 
painters engaged on articles of porcelain for the mess- 
rooms of some of our regiments and for noble families, 
the arms of the regiment or of the family being 

{minted in more or less detail on each piece of porce- 
ain. Not only are vessels for table-service thus 
painted, but the side slabs for fire-places and a large 
variety of decorative furniture are now made in 
porcelain, and then subjected to the taste and skill of 
the painter. This is one of the branches of the porce- 
lain manufacture in which the English have made 
very rapid progress within the last few years. 

Conveniently placed with respect to the painting- 
room are the • enamel-kilns,' in which the painted 
articles are exposed to a heat sufficient to make the 
colours adhere to the porcelain. These kilns are a 
kind of arched oven, having a door at one end, and 
gratings within on which the articles are placed. The 
most scrupulous care and delicacy are displayed in 
managing these kilns, as to the temperature and length 
of exposure. Sometimes the painter requires to par- 
tially heat the porcelain two or three times during the 
process of painting, to ascertain the effect of his 
colours, and to combine them well with the porcelain. 
Indeed the care required in this process is very little 
less than in the exquisite one of enamel-painting. 



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[February, 1843 



We next follow the costly results of all the preceding 
labours to the • burnishing-room,' a large apartment 
occupied by women and girls employed in burnish- 
ing those parts which have been gilt in the paint- 
ing-room. The burnishers are formed of blood-stone 
and agate, brought to a very smooth surface, and va- 
riously shaped to adapt them to the curvatures of the 
porcelain. Each workwoman is seated at a bench 
with her face towards a window, holding the porcelain 
in the left hand, and the burnisher in ner right, with 
which she rubs the gilded parts until they are brought 
to a brilliant gloss. The warehouses of the firm — of 
which there is one in the High Street of Worcester, 
and two in London, in Coventry Street and in Bond 
Street — illustrate in a striking degree the progress 
made by our manufacturers in the production of those 
luxurious articles for which Sevres and Dresden ob- 
tained, in past times, such celebrity 

TESSELLATED TILE MANUFACTURE. 

We must in closing say a few words respecting a 
branch of manufacture which promises to be much 
extended in England, viz. tessellated tiles for pave- 
ments, &c. Whoever has seen the Temple Church 
since it has been renovated, will have noticed the 
beautiful pavement which it displays, formed of a 
vast number of rectangular tiles about six inches 
square, glazed on the upper surface. The establish- 
ment to which this * visit* relates is one of those where- 
in tiles of this kind, a specimen or two of which are 
here depicted, are made. 



/ 



/ 



/ 



[TeueUated Tiles.] 

The tessellated tiles are formed of two differently 
coloured clays, one imbedded in the other, and dis- 
posed so as to form an ornamental device. The tile is 
first made in clay of one colour, with a depression 
afterwards to be filled with clay of the other colour, 
and this depression is formed by the aid of a mould. 
In the first place, the modeller models in stiff clay an 
exact representative of one of the tiles, about an inch 
thick, cutting out to the depth of about a quarter of an 
inch the depression which constitutes the device. 
When this is properly dried, a mould is made from it 
in plaster of Paris, and from this mould all the tiles 



are produced one by one. The ground-colour of the 
tile is frequently a brownish clay, with a yellow de- 
vice; but this may be varied at pleasure. Let the 
colour be what it may, however, the first clay is mixed 
up very thick, and pressed into the mould by the aid 



of the press seen in the next cut. On leaving the 
press it presents the form of a damp, heavy, um- 
coloured square tile of clay, with an ornamental de- 
vice formed by a depression below the common level 
of the surface. 



[Making the Tile*.] 

The second-coloured clay, so far from being made 
stiff like the first, has a consistence somewhat resem- 
bling that of honey; and herein lies one of the niceties 
of manufacture, for it is necessary to choose clays 
which will contract equally in baking, although of dif- 
ferent consistence when used. The tile being laid on 
a bench, the workman plasters the honey-like clay on 
it, until he has completely filled the depressed device, 
using a kind of knife or trowel in this process. The 
tile, in this state, is then allowed to dry very gradually 
for the long period of eight weeks, to accommodate 
the shrinking of the clays to their peculiar natures. 
After this, each tile is si raped on the surface with an 
edge-tool, till the superfluous portion of the second 
clay is removed, and the two clays become properly 
visible, one forming the ground and the other the de- 
vice. In this state the tiles are put into a 4 biscuit- 
kiln/ where they are baked in a manner nearly re 
sembling the baking of porcelain, but with especial 
reference, as to time and temperature, to the quality 
of the clays. From the biscuit-kiln they are trans- 
ferred to tne ' dipping-room,' where they are coated on 
the upper surface with liquid glaze by means of a 
brush. Lastly, an exposure to the heat of the * glaze- 
kiln' for a period of twenty-four or thirty hours causes 
the glaze to combine with the clay, and the tiles are 
then finished. 

The substance of which these tiles are made cannot 
be called porcelain, but the care required in their 
manufacture is such as to remove them from the rank 
of common pottery, and to form a sufficient reason for 
their being made at the very interesting establishment 
here described, and of which we now take our leave. 



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~ t^ t**- ^ T ^ > 



[Port of Shang-hae.] 



SHANG-HAE. 



Shang-hae, in the province of Kiang-su (which, with 
Anhoi, or Ngan-hoei, form what was, and still is often 
considered as the one province of Kiang-nan), is the 
most northerly of the five ports of China opened by 
the late treaty to British commerce. It is situated in 
about 31° N. lat. and 121° E. long.*, and is built on the 
left bank of the river Woo-sung, which is properly 
only the channel by which the waters of the Lake 
Tahoo or Tai (the Great Lake) are discharged into the 
sea. Though the course of the river probably does 
not exceed fifty miles, it brings down a great volume 
of water, and is very deep. Opposite the town of 
Shang-hae, which is sixteen miles from its mouth, the 
depth in the middle of the stream varies from six to 
eight fathoms, so that the largest vessels can come up 
to the harbour, and unload alongside of the com- 
modious wharfs * and large warehouses which occupy 
the banks of the river. At this place the river is 
nearly half a mile wide. 

The town is very large. The streets are narrow, and 
many of them are paved with small tiles, similar to 
Dutch clinkers, which make a more agreeable footing 
than the slippery granite with which other towns in 
China are paved. The shops in the city are generally 
small, but wares of all descriptions are exhibited for 
sale ; many of them contain European goods, especially 
woollens. Du Halde, in his ' Description of China/ 
says, that in this town and its neighbourhood 200,000 
weavers are occupied in making plain cottons and 
muslins; and Lindsay adds, that the nankeen cloth 
from Shang-hae is said to be the best in the empire. 
Sir Hugh Gough, in his despatches after the capture 
of the town, says, •• as a commercial city nothing can 
exceed it;" adding that ships of large burthen can 
ascend the river for several miles above the town : but 

No. 701. 



though he says it appears a rich city, with " good walls 
in perfect repair," he states the population to be only 
from sixty to seventy thousand, the circumference of 
the walls being about three miles and a half. One of 
the officers of the expedition, in a recently published 
work*, " here observed some pretty public tea-gardens, 
with grottoes and labyrinths, constructed of real and 
artificial rocks piled curiously one above the other." 

Previous to the late expedition little was known of a 
place which appears to be the principal emporium of 
Eastern Asia, and whose commerce is as active as that 
of any other place on the globe, not even London ex- 
cepted. It is certainly a very remarkable circum- 
stance that such a commercial town had only once 
been visited by a European vessel, and that not before 
1832, when the Amherst, under the command of Capt. 
Lindsay, entered the Woo-sung river. Capt. Lindsay 
states — " On our arrival at Woo-sung (a small town 
only a mile above the mouth of the river of that name), 
I was so struck with the vast quantity of junks enter- 
ing the river, that I caused tnem to be counted for 
several successive days. The result was, that in seven 
days upwards of four hundred junks, varying in size 
from one hundred to four hundred tons, passed Woo- 
sung, and proceeded to Shang-hae. During the first 
part of our stay most of these vessels were the north- 
country junks with four masts, from Teen-tsin (Thian- 
tsin on the Peiho) and various parts of Manchow Tar- 
tary, flour and peas from which place formed a groat por- 
tion of their cargo. But during the latter part of our 
stay, the Fokien (Fukain) junks began to pour in to the 
number of thirty or forty per day. Many of these were 
from Formosa, Canton, the Eastern Archipelago, 
Cochin-China, and Siam." Now if we suppose that 
the commerce of Shang-hae is as active the whole year 
round as Capt. Lindsay found it to be in the month of 
* Lieut. Murray, * Doings in China.' 



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July, we come to the conclusion that this port is annu- 
ally visited by shipping to the amount of five million 
tons. In 1838 the shipping that entered the port of 
London did not quite amount to four million tons: 
namely, 1,061,923 tons employed in the foreign trade, 
and 2,908,176 tons in the coasting-trade. But as 
Capt. Lindsay observes that the winters in these 
parts are rather severe, and that the snow some- 
times lies several feet deep for more than a month, 
we may suppose that the navigation of the Woo- 
sung is annually interrupted for four or six weeks, 
and thus the commerce of Shang-hae would be 
reduced nearly to a level with that of London. But 
though the commerce of Shang-hae is perhaps more 
active than that of the British metropolis, its sphere is 
much more limited, as the most remote countries with 
which it is connected towards the south are Siam and 
the Sooloo Archipelago, towards the east Japan, and 
towards the north the province of Leaotong and Mand- 
shooria, whilst London receives merchandize from ail 
the world. 

It certainly excites some surprise to find that so 
active a commerce is carried on in a place which has 
hardly any commercial relation with foreign countries. 
But our surprise will cease if we consider that there 
is no other harbour on the Chinese coast between 30° 
and 37° N. lat., or between the bay of Ningpo on the 
south, and the peninsula of Shantung on the north. 
On this tract of coast the two largest rivers of China, 
the Yellow River and the Yang-tse-kiang, enter the 
sea, and they bring great quantities of earthy matter, 
which they deposit along the coast, and thus render the 
whole tract inaccessible to boats beyond the size of a 
fishing-barge. The Yang-tse-kiang discharges itself in- 
to the Yellow Sea by a broad estuary, in the centre of 
which is the island of Tsong-ming ; the Woo-sung falls 
into the Yang-tse-kiang near its embouchure, on its south- 
ern side, and being the first river which is deep enough 
for the purposes of navigation, the whole maritime com- 
merce of this tract is concentrated at Shang-hae. The 
country which lic3 at the back of the coast is the most 
populous part of China, and contains many very large 
towns, among which those of Soo-choo-foo and Hang- 
choo-foo probably contain a million of inhabitants 
each, and there are others which may vary between 
one hundred thousand and five hundred thousand, 
among which is the ancient capital of China, Nankin, 
to all of which they have ready access by the Yang- 
tse-kiang, which the tide ascends for more than # two 
hundred miles, and the Great Canal. 

Nankin is the capital of the province, seated on the 
south bank of the river, near 32° N. lat. and 117° E. 
long., and about one hundred and twenty miles from 
its mouth. This town was the capital of the em- 
pire to the end of the thirteenth century, and at 
that time the largest town on the globe. To give an 
idea of its then extent, the Chinese historical records 
say, that if two horsemen were to go out in the morn- 
ing at the same gate, and were to gallop round by 
opposite ways, they would not meet before night. This 
is certainly an exaggeration. The Jesuits, when sur- 
veying the town for the purpose of making a plan of 
it, found that the circuit of the exterior walls was 
thirty-seven lies, or nearly twenty miles. This agrees 
pretty well with the description given by Ellis, who 
estimates the distance between the gate near the river 
and the Porcelain Tower at about six miles, and says 
that an area of not less than thirty miles was diver- 
sified with groves, houses, cultivation, and hills, and 
enclosed within the exterior wall, which forms an 
irregular polygon; and is confirmed by Sir Hugh 
Gough in his despatches, who says, " It would not be 
easy to give a clear description of this vast city, or 
rather of the vast space encompassed within its walls. 



I shall therefore only observe that the northern angle 
reaches to within about seven hundred paces of the 
river, and that the western face runs for some miles 
along the base of wooded heights rising immediately 
behind it, and is then continued for a great distance 
upon low ground, having before it a deep canal, which 
also extends along its southern face, serving as a wet 
ditch to both. There is a very large suburb on the 
low ground, in front of the west and south faces, and 
at the south-east angle is the Tartar city, which is a 
separate fortress, divided from the Chinese town by 
high walls. The eastern face extends in an irregular 
line for many miles, running towards the south over a 
spur of Chung-san, a precipitous mountain overlook- 
ing the whole country, the base of which commands 
the rampart. In this face are three gates; the most 
northerly (the Teshing) is approachable by a paved 
road, running between wooded hills to within five 
hundred paces of the walls, whence it is carried along 
a cultivated flat ; the next (the Taiping) is within a 
few hundred yards of the base of Chung-san ; and 
that to the south (the Chanyang) enters the Tartar 
city. There is a long line of unbroken wall between 
the Teshing gate and the river, hardly approachable 
from swamps and low paddy (rice) land, and the space 
between the Teshing and Taiping gates is occupied by 
rather an extensive lake/' Sir Hugh states the extent 
of the walls at about twenty miles in circumference, 
and their height as varving from about seventy to 
twenty-eight feet. Mr. bavis, who passed through 
Nankin in 1816, in Lord Amherst's embassage, says, 
in his sketches of China, the larger portion of the area 
is now a mere waste, or laid out in gardens of vege- 
tables with clumps of trees ; and he was struck with 
their strong resemblance to modern Rome, '• in as far as 
they consist of hills, remains of paved roads, and scat- 
tered cultivation; but the gigantic masses of ruins 
which distinguish modern Rome are wanting in Nan- 
kin." It is still, however, as large as most other pro- 
vincial towns, the population being still estimated at 
three hundred thousand, and it is the residence of the 
first viceroy of the empire, the governor of the two 
Kiang provinces. " It is celebrated," says Mr. Davis, 
" as a seat of Chinese learning, and sends more mem- 
bers to the imperial college of Pekin than any other 
city. The books, the paper, and the printing of Nankin 
are celebrated through the country as being unri- 
valled." 

The present town consists of four principal streets, 
running parallel to one another, and intersected at 
right angles by smaller ones. Through one of the 
larger streets a narrow channel flows, which is crossed 
at intervals by bridges of a single arch. The streets 
are not spacious, but have the appearance of unusual 
cleanliness. The part within the walls which is now- 
only occupied by gardens and bamboo-groves is still 
crossed by paved roads, a fact which tends to con- 
firm the statement that the whole area was once built 
upon. 

None of the buildings of Nankin arc distinguished 
by their architecture, except some of the gates, and 
the famous Porcelain Tower, which is attached to one 
of the pagodas or temples. This building is octagonal, 
and of a considerable height in proportion to its base, 
the height being more than two hundred feet, while 
each side of the base measures only forty feet. It con- 
sists of nine stories, all of equal height, except the 
ground-floor, which is somewhat higher than the rest. 
Each story consists of one saloon, with painted ceil- 
ings ; inside, along the walls, statues are placed. 
Nearly the wjiole of the interior is gilded. Mr. Davis, 
however, says, " It is porcelain in nothing but the tiles 
with which it is faced." At the termination of every 
story, a roof built in the Chinese fashion projects some 



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feet ou the outside, and under it is a passage round the 
tower. At the projecting corners of these roofs small 
bells are fastened, which sound with the slightest 
breeze. On the summit of the tower is an ornament 
in the form of the cone of a fir-tree : it is said to be of 
gold, but probably is only gilt : it rests immediately 
upon a pinnacle, with several rings round it. This 
tower is said to have been nineteen years in building, 
and to have cost four hundred thousaud taels. 

According to the Chinese census, the country be- 
tween 30° and 35° N. lat., extending from the sea 
about two hundred miles inland, and comprehending 
the ancient province of Kiang-nan, on a surface not ex- 
ceeding seventy thousand square miles has a population 
of more than forty millions, or about six hundred inha- 
bitants to each square mile. Such a population cannot 
subsist on the produce of the soil, even in the high 
state of agriculture by which this region is distin- 
guished above all other parts of China. A consider- 
able supply of provisions must be required every year. 
Such an inference must also be drawn from what is 
stated by Captain Lindsay, namely, that the northern 
country vessels bring chiefly corn and peas; and 
though he does not mention the cargoes of the Fo- 
kien vessels, which come from the Eastern Archi- 
pelago, Cochin-China, and Siam, it is a known fact 
that the principal article of export from these coun- 
tries to China is rice. The immense quantity of grain 
which is carried into the port of Shang-hae is probably 
not consumed in that town and the neighbourhood ; 
but a part of it reaches the centre and even the western 
districts of China Proper, by being conveyed on the 
numerous canals which are connected with the Impe- 
rial canal, or Yoon-ho, and the two great rivers above 
mentioned. The exports probably consist of manufac- 
tured goods, and the inhabitants pay for the food which 
they obtain from other countries by supplying their 
inhabitants with cotton, silk, and linen fabrics. The 
importance of the port of Shang-hae to British com- 
merce can hardly be overrated as giving access to the 
northern provinces of China, whose wants are of a 
kind which that commerce is peculiarly able to supply, 
and a great part of which has been hitherto obtained 
through Russia, at, of course, most exorbitant prices, 
consequent on a land-carriage of two or three thousand 
miles. Mr. Charles Grant, in his examination in 1821 
before the Committee of the House of Lords on the 
East India and China Trade, stated that the sale of 
European goods by the Russians at the great fair of 
Kiachta (which only lasts about two months), consist- 
ing chiefly of woollens, Manchester cottons, and vel- 
veteens, amounted to about a million sterling yearly ; 
and added, that at Kiachta English velveteens were 
sold at as high a price as the best velvets at Canton. 
He also stated that " the inhabitants of the northern 
provinces of China, Pe-chce-lee, Shantung, &c, might 
receive the same description of articles, even through 
Canton and the great canal, cheaper than through 
Russia, were the transit encouraged by the Chinese; 
And there can be no doubt, were British vessels per- 
mitted to import into any of the ports of the Yellow 
Sea, that all sorts of goods might be delivered as cheap 
as at Canton ;" but he concluded, from the jealous 
policy of the Chinese, that this permission would never 
be obtained. It has now, however, been effected ; and 
if the Chinese have acceptable articles to give us in 
exchange, of which there may be some doubt, a large, 
new, and equally beneficial commerce to each nation 
may be looted forward to as the result, and by far the 
best result, of our military exertions. 



DUDLEY— ITS CASTLE, LIME-CAVERNS, 
AND 'NAILERS/ 

The town of Dudley, as we had occasion to notice in a 
recent description of the appearance of South Stafford- 
shire at night, is situated in the heart of the midland 
coal-field of England, and therefore shares with the 
surrounding district the singular features which they 
present. But there is in addition, with respect to 
Dudley, such a strange mixture of the ancient with the 
modern — the feudal with the manufacturing — the soli- 
tary and romantic with the busy and bustling — as can 
not fail to attract the notice of those who visit the spot 
for the first time. 

Dudley Castle, which, like many of our ancient cas- 
tles, became the parent of an adjacent town, is situated 
on a somewhat lotty limestone hill, far above the general 
level of the town. This limestone seems to jut through 
the strata of coal and iron-stone, as if it had been urged 
upwards by some internal convulsion ; and hence the 
hill itself yields neither of those two much sought-for 
minerals, the lime being the substance for which, com- 
mercially speaking, the hill is alone valuable. Whe- 
ther the barons who built this castle were aware of the 
mineral riches by which they were surrounded cannot 
now be known ; most probably they were not. But 
whether they were or not, the position of the castle, or 
skeleton of the castle, appears at the present clay 
strangely unsuited to the ideas which we are accus- 
tomed to attach to a feudal residence. Smoking fur- 
naces — a thick and clouded atmosphere — canals bear- 
ing barges filled with iron and coal — and working 
people with begrimed clothes and faces — these arc the 
objects with which the castle is surrounded. 

Let us suppose ourselves in the busy town of Dudley, 
and visit the castle from thence. While in the town, 
especially on a market-day, we witness all those active 
and busy scenes which are incident to the wants of a 
trading population ; visitors from all the surrounding 
districts, some to buy and others to sell, crowd the 
streets ; the shopkeepers make the best display which 
their stock of goods will permit ; and all those features 
are exhibited which belong to a town enlivened by 
commercial activity. But when we arrive at the end 
of Castle-street, and apply for admission to the Castle 
ruins, here is a change ! We leave a noisy world for a 
silent one— a scene marked with the features of the 
present day for one which tells of ages long since 
passed away. There is a gate, under the charge of a 
person employed by the present owner of the castle, 
through which admission (which is liberally granted to 
all) is gained to the grounds surrounding the castle ; 
and when this gate is once passed, a visitor can 
scarcely avoid throwing off all thoughts of street bustle, 
and thinking what kind of men they were who built 
castles in past times. Before us we see a winding, 
ascending path, half stairs, half incline, on ascending 
which we gain a hill surmounted by all that now re- 
mains of Dudley Castle. The ancient outer gate, or 
warder's tower, still presents vestiges to show what 
it once was ; and, having passed this, we have the re- 
mains of the keep, or donjon, in front. This was once 
apparently a small quadrangle, having four towers at 
the corners, connected by curtain walls. There now 
only remain two of these towers, and the one curtain 
wall connecting them, all else being now levelled 
nearly to the ground. 

Within these two towers there are winding stair- 
cases, extending probably to the summit; but as they 
are in rather a shattered state, the ascent is prudently 
prevented above a certain height by doors thrown 
across the staircases. On ascending to the height of a 
few yards, and looking through the loopholes, we have 
unmistakeable evidence of the nature of the surround- 

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ing district Flickering fires checquer the scene on 
every side. Whether we look northward towards Tip- 
ton, or north-east towards Wednesbury, or north-west 
in the direction of Sedgley, or eastward to Oldbury, 
or southward to Stourbridge, — the eye is pretty sure to 
glaucK upon iron-furnaces, pit-mouth hills, or coke- 
hills, sending up their flaming contributions to the al- 
ready dense atmosphere of the district. Close beneath 
us \*e see Dudley, its streets, churches, and factories, 
forming a compact assemblage. In the midst of such 
a scene we look round at the ruins at hand, and read 
the tale which they tell of baronial greatness : how the 
foundation of the castle was laid by Dodo or Dudo, a 
Saxon lord, about the year 700 ; how the Conqueror 
removed the Saxon possessor, Earl Edwin, to make 
room for one of his followers, William Fitzausculph ; 
how, during the reigns of the Henrys and the Ed- 
wards, it passed into the hands of various branches of 
Fitzausculph's family ; how it came into the possession 
of the Dudley family in the time of Edward III. ; how 
its possessors brougnt themselves into trouble during 
the reigns of the Tudors ; and how the castle was be- 
sieged during the Commonwealth — have been fully 
detailed by the local historians. Suffice it here to say 
that the castle was almost ruined and dismantled by 
the Parliamentary army; rebuilt, more in the style 
of a mansion than a castle, soon afterwards ; again 
nearly destroyed by fire about ninety years ago ; left 
as an utterly neglected ruin till the beginning of the 
present century ; and then improved in its approaches 
and exterior arrangements by its possessor, Lord Dud- 
ley and Ward, so far as to make a visit to the rains a 
practicable and pleasant ramble. 

Besides the remains of the Keep, there are fragments 
of walls, doorways, windows, &c., partly surrounding 
a green, which was once the great court-yard or quad- 
rangle of the castle ; but not a roof' remains to convey 
an idea of the apartments of the castle. The ruins, 
taken as a whole, are much less picturesque, and much 
less connected with interesting historical events, than 
ihose of Kenilworth ; but they are perhaps worthy of 
more notice from tourists than they seem to have re- 
ceived. The surrounding district is certainly almost 
enough to deter a lover of the picturesque ; and this 
circumstance may have lessened the number of those 
who would otherwise have become acquainted with 
Dudley Castle. 

On proceeding beyond the limits of the castle ruins, 
in a direction opposite to the town of Dudley, we get 
into the grounds belonging to the castle. These are 
singularly w ild and secluded. There is a deep ravine, 
which, if found in Switzerland or Italy, would probably 
have furnished a subject for a host of pencils ; but be- 
inp found among the coal and iron districts of Stafford- 
shire, no artist thinks of looking for it. At a first 
glance it is not easy to determine whether the ravine 
or dell is natural or the result of excavation ; for it is 
bounded and shut in partly by rocks, and partly by 
verdant sides, and varied by clumps of trees. It has, 
however, been stated that this hollow is the result of 
lime-quarriesy the excavation having been made so long 
a period back as to have suffered the denuded rocks to 
assume a vegetable clothing. Whether this be so or 
not, there are at the present day lime-quarries being 
worked at a lower level in the castle hill, in such a 
manner as to present caverns almost rivalling those of 
Derbyshire in singularity of appearance. These ca- 
verns, occasioned by the underworking of the beds of 
limestone, display pendant roofs, and massy columns 
left for their support. In groping along these caverns, 
the visitor often finds himself in pitchy darkness ; and 
a rolling stone will frequently convey to him the inti- 
mation that water is flowing at a considerable depth 
beneath him. This water illustrates one of the many 



remarkable features of the district. The castle-hill is 
perforated by two or three canals, wnich proceed in 
profound darkness through channels or tunnels cut in 
the limestone rock. This is exhibited to the eye at one 
spot in the castle grounds, where we see a rocky sort 
of glen enclosing a basin, the sides of which are diver- 
sified with rugged projections, and enriched with fo- 
liage. In the rough sides of this basin are seen three 
openings, being tunnels belonging to three different 
canals which meet in this open glen. All the three 
are excavated in the limestone, and were constructed 
as a means of conveying to Birmingham and other 
parts the lime dug from the castle-hill. In no part of 
the vicinity do nature and art appear to be more oddly 
mingled than here. 

In various parts of the vicinity lime working and 
burning are still carried on to a large extent. An 
elevated* hill called the "Wren's Nest,'* not far distant 
from the castle, contains extensive lime-quarries. The 
lime is found in two beds, each about ten yards in 
thickness, separated by a space of forty yards filled 
with lime of .an inferior quality, mixed with sand and 
clay. The caverns (as the excavations resulting from 
the labours of the quarriers are called) in the Wren's 
Nest Hill are highly remarkable, from the manner in 
which the retaining props and pillars are made to con- 
form to the dip of the strata, and from the length and 
depth to which the excavations have extended. 

When we leave the ravine and grounds behind the 
castle, we may return to the entrance by one of three 
paths, winding in different directions, all of which are 
Jcept in order at the expense of the proprietor of the 
ruins. On emerging from the gate we again find our- 
selves in the streets of Dudley, and surrounded by the 
busy operations of which it is the theatre. The shop- 
keepers supply the usual wares required by an active 
population ; but it is not till we get outside the town, 
and in the villages between it and Birmingham, Wal- 
sall, Stourbridge, &c., that we meet with many indica- 
tions of that remarkable feature which is connected 
with the nail-manufacture. 

Cut- nails are made principally by machinery; 
wrought-nails by hand ; and these latter are not made 
in large buildings, or factories, so much as in the hum- 
ble cottages of the workmen. In passing along any of 
the high-roads in this neighbourhood, we may fre- 
quently see women trudging along, carrying on their 
heads bundles of nail-rods which they have purchased 
at some of the numerous iron-works, and are taking 
to their own homes, there to fabricate them into nails. 
Each rod is about six feet in length, and has a width 
and thickness proportionate to the size of the nail 
which is to be made. The rods are prepared by draw- 
ing red-hot iron bars successively through a series of 
holes in a steel-plate ; the holes employed being 
smaller and smaller until the desired dimensions are 
produced. The rods, as thus produced, are much 
longer than six feet ; but they are reduced to that 
length in order to facilitate the formation of them into 
convenient bundles ; and it is with such bundles that 
we frequently see the labouring women of the district 
laden. A walk along the same roads will afford us 
indications of one among the causes of the location of 
the nail-manufacture, and many similar manufactures, 
in this quarter ; we mean, the abundant supply of coal. 
Carts are traversing the country in every direction, 
drawn by one horse each, and filled with Staffordshire 
coal, generally in pieces of such size as would win for 
it the approving term of "nubbly coal" in London ; 
purchaseable, too, at a price considerably less than one- 
naif of that paid in the metropolis. 

If we follow one of these • nailers' to her home, we 
shall probably find it a low, dismal-looking, comfort- 
less brick house, exhibiting cracks and fissures which 



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would alarm most persons. The nature of the district 
affects the buildings, as well as the people and the at- 
mosphere. The whole ground beneatn is so com- 
pletely honeycombed by the operations of the miners, 
that it care be not taken to cease working within a few 
feet of the surface, the latter often sinks, and injures 
whatever structures may be erected on it. This does 
not imply that the ground actually breaks in and leaves 
an open fissure or chasm, but that a subsidence takes 
place sufficient to shake all above. Some of the poorer 
nouses about Oldbury have chains wound about them, 
to keep them up. 

The nailers nave small forges within their houses, 
at which they work in companies, women as well as 
men. Mutton's description of the female nailers has 
been often quoted, for the oddness of the scene itself, 
and the quaint language in which he records it. While 
speaking of Birmingham, he says : — " The art of nail- 
making is one of the most ancient among us; we 
safely charge its antiquity with four figures. We can- 
not consider it a trade in so much as of Birmingham ; 
for we have but few nail-makers left in the town ; our 
nailers are chiefly masters, and rather opulent. The 
manufacturers are so scattered around the country, 
that we cannot travel far, in any direction, out of the 
sound of the nail-hammer. But Birmingham, like a 



powerful magnet, draws the produce of the anvil to 
herself." Then comes his aescription of the nail 
smithy : — " When I first approached here from Wal 
sail, in 1741, I was surprised at the number of black- 
smiths' shops upon the road ; and could not conceive 
how a country, though populous, could support so 
many people of the same occupation. In some of these 
shops I observed one or more females, stripped of their 
upper garment, and not overcharged with their lower, 
wielding the hammer with all the grace of the sex. 
The beauties of their face were rather eclipsed by the 
smut of the anvil ; or, in poetical phrase, the tincture 
of the forge had taken possession of those lips which 
might have been taken oy the kiss. Struck with the 
novelty, I inquired, 4 Whether the ladies in this coun- 
try shod horses?' but was answered, with a smile, 
• They are nailers.* " 

There the nailers are still located, much as they 
were when Hutton first saw them a hundred years ago. 
They still use the forge to heat the iron-rod, the anvil 
on which, and the hammer by which, to fashion the 
nail, and still make the nails one by one ; and, without 
using Hutton's " poetical phrase," we may still con- 
sider the occupation to be somewhat of the dirtiest. 
It constitutes one of the remarkable features in the 
district of which Dudley may be deemed the centre. 



[tort Krie, ou Lake Erie, in 1 77 O.J 



THE NIAGARA DISTRICT, WESTERN 
CANADA.— No. III. 

The Niagara district, being already settled, does not 
offer any inducement to the usual description of emi- 
grants, who proceed to Canada for the purpose of 
purchasing land, and by their industry bringing the 
wild forest into a state of cultivation ; but persons with 
capital may do well to settle in this part of the pro- 
vince. They can purchase farms already cleared, and 
the vicinity of good markets at once compensates them 
for the higher price which they must pay. To those 
who are incapable of ' roughing ' it in • the bush,' such 
a plan is undoubtedly the best. Both in the British 
provinces and in the United States there are a class 



of men who employ themselves in clearing land, and 
after bringing it into a rude state of cultivation, they 
sell their ' clearings,' and these useful pioneers are 
again off into the woods. This is a very beneficial dis- 
tribution of labour, and renders the task of the more 
refined emigrant comparatively light. The infinite 
diversity of taste and habit amongst our countrymen 
who choose to reside on the continent of Europe, in 
many cases to retrench their expenditure, renders it 
probable that some of them would effect their purpose 
more readily by a residence of a few years in tne Nia- 
gara district, if unhappily it were not the dissipation 
of the European capitals which constituted the charm 
of the old continent ; but still, as we have already 
remarked, a different taste might lead others to prefer 



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the shores of Lake Erie. The heauties of Nature, 
and the grand and novel features which she here pre- 
sents, would surely to a rightly constituted mind be 
more attractive than the lounging habits of a second- 
rate town in France. There is no lack of field-sports 
and of other amusements which agreeably diversify 
the life of a man who is not pursuing some settled 
plan of existence, but merely resting lor a time for 
some specified object. In summer the tour of the 
lakes might be made, the adjacent parts of the States 
visited, and the cities of Montreal, Quebec, Albany, 
Boston, and New York arc each within two or three 
days' journey. In a short time new and more correct 
views would be obtained of a state of things differing 
greatly in many points from that which the emigrant 
had quitted. It is said that those who have once 
resided in new settlements where the forms of society 
are comparatively free and unconstrained, seldom 
relish, on their return to an old community, the hollow 
formalities by which they are circumscribed, and look 
back with regret to their former freedom, so that a 
temporary sojourn might, in the case we have sup- 
posed, become a permanent settlement. 

Eastern and Western Canada, under a united consti- 
tutional government, such as they have now obtained, 
and aided by the stream of emigration from the mother- 
country, which is pouring in at the rate of above thirty 
thousand persons yearly, is likely to increase rapidly 
in population. In the speech with which the late 
Lord Sydenham opened the first session of the United 
Legislature of Canada he pointed out the importance 
of measures for developing the resources of the country 
by extensive public works, observing that ** the rapid 
settlement of the country, — the value of every man's 
property within it, — the advancement of his future for- 
tunes, are deeply affected by this question." The 
objects which he pointed out as promising commen- 
surate returns for a great outlay, were the improve- 
ment of the navigation from the shores of Lake Erie 
and Lake Huron to the ocean, and the establishment 
of new internal communications in the inland districts. 
The Wclland canal already places in the hands of the 
merchants of Kingston and Montreal the command 
over the produce of the western parts of the United 
States and the most fertile grain districts in Western 
Canada, which can reach the Atlantic for exportation 
to Europe, the West Indies, &c. in a considerably 
shorter time than if the products of the above districts 
were conveyed to New York by the Erie canal. An 
improvement of this nature benefits the most remote 
settler in the backwoods, increases the value of his 
labour, and brings around him, much sooner than 
would otherwise be the case, all the most important 
influences of civilization. 



THE SURF AND THE BORE OF INDIA. 

Among the geographical, or rather hydrographical, 
features which distinguish the great continent of India, 
there are two of a very remarkable kind — the surf and 
the bore, the former presenting a formidable obstacle 
to the approach of ships towards the port of Madras, 
and the latter occurring near the mouths of the great 
Indian rivers, such as the Indus and the Ganges. 

Madras is one of the most unfavourably situated 
cities which have ever risen to eminence; for such is 
the state of the sea near it, that no ships can approach 
the shore, and all communications between them and 
the city are maintained by boats and rafts, the crews of 
which go through no small amount of danger in the 
transit. The site of the city appears to have been de- 
termined on more by accident than design, or such a 
formidable obstacle to'freedom of communication would 
not have escaped notice. In front of the city the surf 



rages in three distinct foamy ridges, which can only 
be passed safely by small vessels built expressly for 
the duty. These vessels are called massoolahs. 

The massoolah is a light, large, and flat-bottomed 
boat, without ribs, keel, or other timber ; the broad 
planks being sewed at the edges with * kyar,' or line 
made from the outer fibres of the cocoa-nut, and are 
filled in between the seams with the same material. 
Iron is utterly excluded from .the whole fabric. By 
this construction the massoolah is rendered lithe and 
buoyant enough to meet the violent shocks which it 
will have to encounter from the roaring surge ; it yields 
to the percussion of the waters, so as, by diminishing 
the resistance, to be thrown up safely on the beach 
without breaking by the concussion. The management 
of these boats requires great dexterity and experience, 
the crews being bred from their infancy to the hazard- 
ous enterprise. The massoolahs are impelled by broad 
elliptical paddles ; and the 'tindaV or master, chants 
a wild kind of song, to the cadence of which his 
* clashees,' or rowers, keep time, quickening or retard- 
ing the motion of the boat as may be necessary to evade 
or encounter the stroke of the surf. Thus they approach 
the European vessels, which are obliged to anchor at 
the back of the surf at a prescribed distance ; and the 
passengers and ladies are then transferred from the 
larger vessel to the massoolah. They then return ; 
and on entering the outer line of surf, which is said to 
appal every one who encounters it for the first time, 
the rowers simultaneously pause, and the song is sup- 
pressed ; but the instant the surf has tumbled over, a 
loud shout bursts forth, and the most skilful and 
strenuous efforts are made to meet the next ridge of 
surf, towards which the massoolah is whirled with 
awful rapidity ; and so on till they reach the shore. 

The massoolah is always attended by little rafts, 
called catamarans, to aid in rescuing the passengers 
and bearing them to the shore in the event of the mas- 
soolah being upset. In very rough weather the whole 
line of coast becomes terrific ; the massoolahs cannot 
venture out ; and all intercourse with the shipping 
would then be stopped, except for the means afforded 
by the catamarans. This simple and singular contriv- 
ance consists of two or three Jogs of light wood lashed 
together, the outer ones being seven or eight feet long, 
by six or eight inches diameter, and the centre one 
rather longer. It is rounded off at one end, for the 
convenience of progression through the water, and is 
paddled by one or two men, who squat on their knees, 
in a position which appears to an Englishman a most 
uneasy one. The surface is flat, and is level with the 
water when the men are properly seated in the centre. 
The water is continually washing over them, and yet 
these men will remain thus for hours together. It is 
very common for them to be washed ofF the catamaran ; 
but if they escape the sharks, which are looking out 
for prey, they regain their position by expert swimming. 
Drencfied as they are with water, these men yet con- 
trive to convey letters and despatches between the 
ships and the snore without getting them wetted : the 
papers are usually placed in their skull-caps, enveloped 
with a kind of turban, which, with a cloth round their 
middle, are the only articles of dress they require. 

The catamaran-men often receive medals of distinc- 
tion from the Indian government for having saved the 
lives of persons who have been upset from the massoo- 
lahs. Tlie singularity in the nature of the surf which 
these men have to encounter is, that it is often most 
violent in calm weather; hence there frequently 
occurs sad destruction of shipping in the Madras 
Roads. A writer in a recent volume of the ' United 
Service Journal,' describing the Madras surf from per- 
sonal observation, gives the following as one among 
many instances of the dangerous character of the spot 

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for shipping : — " On the 2nd May, 1811, Madras was 
visited by a storm of such fury as to create both de- 
struction and sorrow. Before the commotion of the 
elements began, one hundred and twenty ships and 
vessels proudly rode at their anchors : in the morning 
all these, including H.M. ships Dover and Chichester, 
either bilged or foundered, and were strewed in frag- 
ments along the shore. Fewer lives were sacrificed 
than could have been expected, considering the extent 
of the calamity, and that numbers of the vessels sunk 
at their anchors ; but neither of the men-of-war lost a 
single man. It is, however, quite frightful to ponder 
on the extent to which our naval means would pro- 
bably have been destroyed had this storm come on 
sooner. But ten days before the expedition had sailed 
for Java, with a strong squadron of men-of-war, twelve 
Company's cruizers, and sixty transports, with twelve 
thousand soldiers on board, all of which must have 
been wrecked." 

It is not yet clearly proved how this formidable 
surf may be most correctly accounted for. The pro- 
babilities arc, that the formation of the coast near 
Madras, the narrowing of the Bay of Bengal as it re- 
cedes towards the north, the flowing of the equatorial 
current against the coast, and the nature of the bottom, 
as to depth, shoals, &c\, all exert their influence in the 
production of the surf; but, to what extent, future 
hydrographical researches must show. 

Let us next pass on to notice the ' bore,' or rushing 
tide, at the mouths of some of the Indian rivers. This 
is a remarkable periodic phenomenon, depending in 
some way on the flow of the tide into an estuary not 
calculated to give sufficient space for the due recep- 
tion of the waters. The Ganges, the Indus, and the 
Bay of Cambay are the parts of India where this re- 
markable rush of waters takes place. We will take 
the accounts of these bores from travellers who have 
visited the respective spots. 

The Rev. Iiobart Gaunter, in one of the volumes 
of the ' Oriental Annual,' gives an account of the bore 
at the Ganges*. It may be proper to premise that the 
Ganges enters the Bay of Bengal by innumerable 
mouths, none of which are navigable for large ships 
except that branch called the Hooghly, on the banks 
of which the city of Calcutta is built. The Hooghly 
passes by Calcutta with a broad, deep, and tranquil 
current; but between the city and the sea there are 
many shoals and sandbanks. On this branch of the 
river occurs the bore, a violent flux of the water, which 
rushes up the stream at certain intervals with such ex- 
treme violence as to swamp everything within its 
influence. Its power is chiefly confined to the sides 
of the river, being scarcely felt in mid-channel, where 
the Indiamen generally lie at anchor. 

This sudden influx of the tide commences at Hooghly 
Point, where the river first contracts its width, and is 
perceptible above Hooghly Town. So (juick is its 
motion, that it hardly employs four hours in travelling 
from one to the other, although the distance is nearly 
seventy miles. It does not run on the Calcutta side, 
but along the opposite bank, from whence it crosses at 
Chitpoor, about four miles above Fort William, and 
proceeds with great violence in its upward course. 
At Calcutta it sometimes occasions an instantaneous 
rise of five feet. So impetuous is the rush of the 
water, that if small vessels at anchor are not prepared 
to receive it, they must be infallibly upset. Ships at 
anchor, being generally in mid-channel, where its 
influence is little felt, escape with a few uneasy 
roils. If, however, larger Vessels arc overtaken by it, 
the shock is prodigious, and at times serious mischief 
ensues, especially if they arc struck upon the broad- 

* For a notice of the Ganges, and a view of the ' bore ' from 
a drawing by Mr. W. Wcstall, 8ic No. 162 



side. By turning their prows towards the current 
little or no injury is sustained. The bore rises com- 
monly to the height of eighteen feet, and invariably 
produces a sensation of great terror near the shore, 
where small boats are always moored in considerable 
numbers ; and much alarm is excited when one of the 
visits of this formidable enemy is expected, for the 
frequency of its occurrence has not by any means had 
the effect of calming apprehension. 

In the river Brahmapootra, which enters the Bay of 
Bengal, not far from the eastern mouth of the Ganges, 
the bore is witnessed, of a similar character to the 
above. In the channels between the islands near the 
mouth of the river, the height of the bore is said to 
exceed twelve feet ; and it is so terrific in its appear- 
ances, and so dangerous in its consequences, that no 
boat will venture to navigate there at spring- tide. It 
does not, however, ascend to so great a distance up the 
Brahmapootra as up the Ganges, probably on account 
of some peculiar conformation of the shores. 

The late lamented Sir Alexander Burnes, when 
speaking of the Indus, in the following terms described 
the bore often observed at that river : — " The tides rise 
in the months of the Indus about nine feet, at full 
moon ; and flow and ebb with great violence, par- 
ticularly near the sea, where they flood and abandon 
the banks with equal and incredible velocity. It is 
dangerous to drop the anchor unless at low-water, as 
the channel is frequently obscured, and the vessel may 
be left dry." The description of the passage of Alex- 
ander's boats down the Indus, as given by Arrian, was 
the first intimation given of this rushing tide, and 
serves to corroborate other portions of the testimony. 

Irt the Gulf of Cambay there is a very remarkable 
bore, arising from the peculiar formation of the coast. 
It will be seen by inspecting a map, that this gulf runs 
up between Bombay and the peninsula of Guzerat 
in the western coast of India ; that it is very irregular 
in shape, that it runs deeply into the land, and that 
several rivers flow into it. Many shoals occur in 
different parts of the gulf, by which the flood of waters 
occasioned by the tides are divided into various 
channels or distinct currents ; and up two of the prin- 
cipal of these currents the phenomenon of the bore is 
observed. Lieutenant Ethersey, of the Indian navy, 
communicated to the Geographical Society, a few 
years ago, an account of these two bores, and of an 
observation which he made in person on one of them. 
In February, 1835, in order to try the effect of the bore 
on a large-sized ' bander-boat/ and at the same time 
to ascertain the strength of the stream after the wave 
had passed, Lieut. Ethersey anchored the boat at 
spring-tide half a mile to the northward of what was 
then the last cape on the western side of the gulf. 
Although the anchorage was in five fathoms, the boat 
grounded at low-water, and was left high and dry. A 
few hours afterwards, the noise of the bore was heard, 
when every precaution was immediately taken for the 
safety of the boat. The night was still and calm, and 
the roar of the rushing tide, as it approached, echoing 
among the neighbouring cliffs, is described as having 
been truly awful. The bore struck the boat, lifted 
her, and threw her violently round on her bil^e ; in 
which position she was forced before it, broadside on, 
for the space of five minutes, the grapnel being of no 
\ise, for it was carried faster than the boat. So vio- 
lently was the boat shaken, that her commander 
thought she would go to pieces. However, no ac- 
cident happened ; for, on getting to a hollow in the 
sand-bank, which was quickly filled, the boat righted. 
By subsequent experiments made with the log-line, it 
was found that the bore rushed up with a velocity 
of about ten * knots ' an hour. 

The same volume of the Society's Journal in which 



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Lieutenant Ethersey's observations are recorded con- 
tains also a letter from Captain Jervis, of the Com- 
pany's Service, relative to the same subject. He 
crossed the Gulf of Cambay, in a small schooner t>f 
about thirty tons burden, manned by sailors from 
G6geh, a class of people who are remarkably courage- 
jus and expert at sea. " The coolness and dexterity 
with which they secured and righted the vessel on the 
rusk of the first wave," says he, " is still fresh in my 
memory; and I remarked, that in casting anchor 
every day, as the tide went out, when tnc vessel 
grounded in the mud, the tindal, or master, of the 
vessel invariably took the precaution of selecting some 
spot in the direct line of its progress, that is, in the 
main channel, where he said* there was less danger to 
be apprehended than in the neighbourhood of the 
shores, in cousequencc of the recoil or curl of the tide 
alongshore, and the falling in of the loose banks. The 
core appeared to set in like* a straight wall of water 
with a head of five or six feet, each succeeding wave 
decreasing more and more, till the whole gulf was 
reduced to the same level as the sea without. We 
heard it approach several minutes before it came 
upon us, when we were fairly lifted up, and afloat in 
an instant." 

This phenomenon of the bore has been thus accounted 
for. From a comparison of those rivers of India which 
exhibit the bore, with those which do not, it seems 
necessary for the production of this effect that the 
rivers should fall into an estuary, that this estuary be 
subject to high tides, and that it contract gradually ; 
and lastly, that the river also narrow by degrees. Tne 
rise of the sea at spring-tides drives a great volume of 
water into the wide entrance of the estuary, where it 
accumulates, not being able to flow off quick enough 
into the narrower part. The tide therefore enters 
with the greater force the narrower the estuary be- 
comes ; and when it reaches the mouth of the river 
the swell has already obtained a considerable height 
above the descending stream, and rushes in like a 
torrent. It is as if water were entering into a funnel- 
shaped mouth which becomes too small to give it 
adequate room ; and hence the same phenomenon 
may be exhibited in the Gulf of Cambay as in the 
Indian rivers, if the form of the coasts be alike. 

The bore is exhibited, to a greater or less extent, 
on the shores of Brazil, in the rivers Araquari and 
Mcary; and in England, on a small scale, in the 
Severn, the Trent, the Wye, and the Solway Frith. 

Geography and HUtory. — I said that geography held out one 
hand to geology and physiology, while she held out the other to 
history. In fact, geology and physiology themselves are closely 
connected with history. For instance, what lies at the bottom of 
that question which is now being discussed everywhere — the 
question of the corn-laws — but the geological fact that Eugland 
is more richly supplied with coal-mines than any other country 
in the world? What has given a peculiar interest to our relations 
with China, but the physiological fact, that the tea-plant, which 
is become so necessary to our daily life, has been cultivated 
with equal success in no other climate or country? What is it 
which threatens the permanence of the union between the 
northern and southern states of the American confederacy, but 
the physiological fact, that the soil and climate of the southern 
states render them essentially agricultural, while those of the 
northern states, combined with their geographical advantages as 
to sea-ports, dispose them no less naturally to be manufacturing 
anil commercial ? The whole character of a nation may be in- 
fluenced by its geology and physical geography. Rut. for the 
sake of its mere beauty and liveliness, if there were no other con- 
sideration, it would be worth our while to acquire this richer 
view of geography. Conceive only the difference between a 
ground-plan ami a picture. The mere plan-geography of Italy 
gives us its,shaj>e, as I have observed, and the position of its 
towns; to these it may add a semicircle of mountains round the 
northern boundary to represent the Alps, and another long line 



stretching down the middle of tlie country to represent the 
Apennines. But let us carry ou this a little further, and give 
life, and meaning, and harmony to what is at present at once 
lifeless and confused. Observe, in the first place, bow the 
Apennine line, beginning from the southern extremity of the 
Alps, runs across Italy to the very edge of the Adriatic, and 
thus separates naturally the Italy Proper of tbe Romans from 
Cisalpine Gaul. Observe, again, how the Alps, after running 
north and south, where they divide Italy from France, turn then 
away to the eastward, running almost parallel to the Apennines, 
till they too touch the head of the Adriatic on the confines of 
I stria. Thus betweeu these two lines of mountains there is en- 
closed one great basin or plain, enclosed on three sides by moun- 
tains, open only on the east to the sea. Observe bow widely it 
spreads itself out, and then see how well it is watered. One 
great river flows through it in its whole extent, and this is fed by 
streams almost unnumbered, descending towards it on either 
side, from the Alps on the one side, and from the Apennines on 
the other. Who can wonder that this large, and rich, and well- 
watered plain should be filled with flourishing cities, or that it 
should have !>een contended for so often b> successive invaders ? 
Then descending into Italy Proper, we find the complexity of 
its geography quite in accordance with its manifold political 
division. It is not one simple central ridge of mountains, 
leaving a broad belt of level country on either side between it 
and the sea ; nor yet is it a chain rising immediately from tbe 
sea on oue side, like the Andes in South America, and leaving 
room, therefore, on the other side for wide plains of table-land, 
and rivers with a sufficient length of course to become at last 
gnat and navigable. It is a back-bone thickly set with spines 
of unequal length, some of them running out at regular distances 
parallel to each other, but others twisted so strangely, that they 
often run for a long way parallel to the back-bone, or main 
ridge, and interlace with one another in a mate almost inextri- 
cable. And, as if to complete the disorder, in those spots where 
the spines of the Apennines, being twisted round, run parallel to 
the sea and to their own central chain, and thus leave an interval 
of plain between their l>ases and the Mediterranean, volcanic 
agency has broken up the space thus left with other and dis- 
tinct groups of hills of its own creation, as in the case of Vesu- 
vius and of the Alban bills near Rome. Speaking generally, 
then, Italy is made up of an infinite multitude of valleys pent 
in between high and steep hills, each forming a country to itself, 
and cut off by natural barriers from the others. Its several parts 
are isolated by nature, and no art of man can thoroughly unite 
them. Even the various provinces of the same kingdom are 
strangers to each other ; the Abruzzi are like an unknown world 
to the inhabitants of Naples, insomuch, that when two Neapolitan 
naturalists, not ten years since, made an excursion to visit tbe 
Majella, one of the highest of the central Apennines, they found 
there many medicinal plants growing in the greatest profusion, 
which the Neapolitans were regularly in the habit of importing 
from other countries, as no one suspected their existence within 
their own kingdom. Hence arises the romantic character of 
Italian scenery ; the constant combination of a mountain outline 
and all the wild features of a mountain country, with the rich 
vegetation of a southern climate in the valleys. Hence too the 
rudeness, the pastoral simplicity, and the occasional robber 
habits, to be found in the population : so that to this day you 
may travel in many places for miles together in the plains and 
valleys without passing through a single town or village; for the 
towns still cluster ou the mountain sides, the houses nestling 
together on some scanty ledge, with cliffs rising above them and 
sinking down abruptly below them, the very *' congest* manu 
pnrruptis opp'ula saxis" of Virgil's description, which he even 
then called " antique walls," because they had t>ccn the strong- 
holds of the primaeval inhabitants of the country, and which are 
still inhabited after a lapse of so many centuries, nothing of the 
stir and movement of other parts of Europe having penetrated 
into these lonely valleys, and tempted the people to quit their 
mountain fastnesses for a more accessible^ dwelling in the plain. 
I have been led on further than I intended, but I wished to 
give an example of what I meant by a real and lively know- 
ledge of geography, which brings the whole character of a 
country before our eye?*, and enables us to understand its influ- 
ence upon the social and political condition of its inhabitants. 
And this knowledge, a-» I said before, is very important to enable 
us to follow clearly the external revolutions of different nations, 
which we want to comprehend before we penetrate to what has 
been passing within. — Dr. Arnold** Lecture* on History. 



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ESSAYS ON THE LIVES OF REMARKABLE 
PAINTERS— No. III. 

Giotto, 

Born 1276, di.-d 1336. 

u Credette Cimabuc nella Pittura 
Terwr lo camjK), ed ora ha Giotto il grido ;— 
Sicche ]a fama di colui oscura." 

l ' Cimabue thought 

To lord it over painting's field ; and now 
The cry is Giotto's, and his name eclijis'd.* 

Carey* g Dante. 

These often-quoted lines-, from Dante's ' Purgatorio,' 
must needs be once more quoted here: for it is a 
curious circumstance that, applicable in his own day, 
five hundred years ago, they should still be so appli- 
cable in ours. Open any common history not intended 
for the very profound, and there we still find Cimabue 
44 lording it over painting's field," and placed at the 
head of a revolution in art, with which, as an artist, he 
bad little or nothing to do, — but much as a man ; for 
to him — to his quick perception and generous protec- 
tion of talent in the lowly shepherd-boy, we owe Giotto, 
than whom no single human being of whom we read 



had, in any particular department of science or art, a 
more immediate, wide, and lasting influence. The 
total change in the direction and character of art must 
in all human probability have taken place sooner or 
later, since all the influences of that wonderful period 
of regeneration were tending towards it. Then did 
architecture struggle as it were from the Byzantine 
into the Gothic forms, like a mighty plant pwting 
forth its rich foliage and shooting up towards heaven ; 
then did the speech of the people— the vulgar tongues, 
as they were called — begin to assume their present 
structure, and become the medium through which 
beauty, and io?e, and action, and feeling, and thought 
were to be uttered and immortalized ; and then arose 
Giotto, the destined instrument through which his 
own beautiful art was to become not a mere fashioner 
of idols, but one of the great interpreters of the 
human soul with all its "infinite" of feelings and 
faculties, and of human life in all its multifarious 
aspects. Giotto was the first painter, who •• held as it 
were the mirror up to nature. ' Cimabue's strongest 
claim to the gratitude of succeeding ages is, that he 
bequeathed such a man to his native country and to 
the world. 
About the year 1289, when Cimabue was already 



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old and at the height of his fame, as he was riding in 
the valley of Vespignano, about fourteen miles from 
Florence, his attention was attracted by a boy who 
was herding sheep, and who, while his flocks were 
feeding around, seemed intently drawing on a smooth 
fragment of slate, with a bit of pointed stone, the 
figure of one of his sheep as it was quietly grazing 
before him. Cimabue rode up to him, and looking 
with astonishment at the performance of the untutored 
boy, asked him if he would go with him and learn ; 
to which the boy replied, that he was right willing, if 
his father were content The father, a herdsman of 
the valley, by name Bondone, being consulted, gladly 
consented to the wish of the noble stranger, and Giotto 
henceforth became the inmate and pupil of Cimabue. 

This pretty story, which was first related by Lorenzo 
Ghiberti, the sculptor (born 1378), and since by Vasari 
and a thousand others, luckily rests on evidence as 
satisfactory as can be given for any events of a rude 
and distant age, and may well obtain our belief, as 
well as gratify our fancy ; it has been the subject of 
many pictures, and is prettily introduced in Rogers's 
•Italy:' 

" Let us wander thro' the fields 

Where Cimabue found the shepherd-lioy 
Tiacing his idle fancies on the ground." 

Giotto was about twelve or fourteen years old when 
taken into the house of Cimabue. For his instruction in 
those branches of polite learning necessary to an artist, 
his protector placed him under the tuition of Brunctto 
Latini, who was also the preceptor of Dante. When, 
at the age of twenty-six, Giotto lost his friend and 
master, he was already an accomplished man as well as 
a celebrated painter, and the influence of his large 
original mind upon the later works of Cimabue is 
distinctly to be traced. 

The first recorded performance of Giotto was a 
painting on the wall of the Palazzo dell' Podesta, or 
council-chamber of Florence, in which were intro- 
duced the portraits of Dante, Brunctto Latini, Corso 
Donati, and others. Vasaii speaks of these works 
as the first successful attempts at portraiture in the 
history of modern art. They were soon afterwards 
plastered or whitewashed over during the triumph of 
the enemies of Danjtc ; and for ages, though known 
to exist, they were lost and buried from sight. The 
hope of recovering these most interesting portraits 
had long been entertained, and various attempts had 
been made at different times without success, till at 
length, as late as 18i0, they were brought to light by 
the perseverance and enthusiasm of Mr. Bezzi, an 
Italian gentleman, now residing in England. On 
comparing the head of Dante, painted when he was 
about thirty, prosperous and distinguished in his na- 
tive city, with the later portraits of him when an exile, 
worn, wasted, embittered by misfortune and disappoint- 
ment and wounded pride, the difference of expression 
is as touching as the identity in feature is indubitable. 

The attention which in his childhood Giotto seems 
to have given to all natural forms and appearances, 
showed itself in his earlier pictures ; he was the first 
to whom it occurred to group his personages into 
something like a situation, and to give to their attitudes 
aud features the expression adapted to it : thin?, in a 
very early picture ot the Annunciation he gave to the 
Virgin a look of fear ; and in another, painted some- 
time afterwards, of the Presentation in the Temple, he 
made the Infant Christ shrink from the priest, and 
turning, extend his little arms to his mother— the first 
attempt at that species of grace and naivete of ex- 
pression afterwards carried to perfection by Raffaelle. 
These and other works painted in his native city so 
astonished his fellow-citizens, and all who beheld them, 
by their beauty and novelty, that they seem to have 



wanted adequate words in which to express the excess 
of their delight and admiration, and insisted that the 
figures of Giotto so completely beguiled the sense that 
they were mistaken for realities. A commonplace eulo- 
gium, never merited but by the most commonplace 
and mechanical of painters. 

In the church of Santa Croco, Giotto painted a Coro- 
nation of the Virgin, still to be seen, with choirs of 
angels on either side. In the refectory he painted 
the Last Supper, also still remaining ; a grand, solemn, 
simple composition, which, in the endeavour to give 
variety of expression and attitude to a number of per- 
sons — all seated, and all but two actuated by a similar 
feeling, must still be regarded as extraordinary. In a 
chapel of the church of the Carmine at Florence, he 
painted a series of pictures from the life of John the 
Baptist. These were destroyed by fire in 1771 ; but, 
happily, an English engraver, then studying at Flo- 
rence, named Patch, had previously made accurate 
drawings from them, whicn he engraved and pub- 
lished. The two angels in the wood-cut at the head of 
this article are copied from one of these engravings. 
A fragment of the old fresco, containing the heads 
of two of the Apostles, who are bending in grief 
and devotion over the body of St. John, is now in the 
collection of Mr. Rogers, the poet. It certainly justi- 
fies all that has been said of Giotto's power of expres- 
sion, and, when compared with the remains of earlier 
art, more than excuses the wonder and enthusiasm of 
his contemporaries. 

The pope, Boniface VIII., hearing of his marvellous 
skill, invited him to Home ; and the story says, that the 
messenger of his Holiness, wishing to have some proof 
that Giotto was indeed the man he was in search of, 
desired to see a specimen of his excellence in his art . 
hereupon, Giotto taking up a sheet of paper, traced on 
it with a single flourish ot his hand a circle so perfect 
that " it was a miracle to sec ;"' and (though we know not 
how or why) seems to have at once converted the pope 
to a belief of'his superiority over all other painters. 
This story gave rise to the well-known Italian proverb, 
" Piu tondo che 10 di Giotto" (rounder than the O of 
Giotto), and is something like a story told of one of 
the Grecian painters: but to return. Giotto went to 
Rome, and there executed many things which raised 
his fame higher and higher; and among them, for 
the ancient Basilica of St. Peter's, the famous mosaic 
of the Navicella, or the Bared, as it is sometimes called. 
It represents a ship, with the Disciples, on a temjws- 
tuous sea; the winds, personified as demons, rage 
around it. Above are the Fathers of the Old Testa- 
ment ; on the right stands Christ, raising Peter from 
the waves. The subject has an allegorical significance, 
denoting the troubles and triumphs of the Church. 
This mosaic has often changed its situation, and has 
been restored again and again, till nothing of Giotto's 
work remains but the original composition. It is now 
in the vestibule of St. Peter's at Rome. 

For the same Pope Boniface, Giotto painted the In- 
stitution of the Juoilee of 1300, which still exists in 
the Lateran at Rome. 

In Padua Giotto painted the chapel of the Arena 
with frescoes from the life of Christ and the Virgin, in 
fifty square compartments. Of this chapel the late 
Lady Callcott published an interesting account : there 
is exceeding grace and simplicity in some of the out- 
line groups with which her work is illustrated, par- 
ticularly trie Marriage of the Virgin and St. Joseph. 
At Padua Giotto met his friend Dante ; and the in- 
fluence of one great genius on another is strongly ex- 
emplified in some of his succeeding works, and par- 
ticularly in his next grand performance, the frescoes in 
the church of Assisi. In the under church, and im- 
mediately over the tomb of St. Francis, the painter 



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represented the three tows of the Order— Poverty, 
Chastity, and Obedience ; and in the fourth compart- 
ment, the Saint enthroned and glorified amidst the 
host of Heaven. The invention of the allegories under 
which Giotto has represented the vows of the Saint, his 
Marriage with Poverty— Chastity seated in her rocky 
fortress— and Obedience with the curb and yoke, are 
ascribed by a tradition to Dante *. Giotto also painted, 
in the Campo Santo at Pisa, the whole history of Job, 
of which only some fragments remain. 

[To be continued ] 



ECONOMICAL USES OF THE BIRCH-TREE. 

Thb Birch is one of that numerous list of forest-trees 
for which man has — in almost every part of the tempe- 
rate climates — reason to be grateful. Its wood, its 
hark, its leaves, all are brought into profitable employ- 
ment, in some cases by the ruder natives more than by 
those in which civilization has made further progress ; 
hut in other cases, by the artizans of such a country 
as England, more than by those less skilled. The com- 
mon or European birch is the species which affords 
the largest variety of uses ; but we may notice a few 
others in combination with it. 

The general character of birch-trees is as follows : — 
They are natives of Europe, chiefly of the most north- 
ern parts, or of high elevations in the south ; of North 
America ; and of some parts of Asia. They are gene- 
rally found in mountainous rocky situations in the 
middle of Europe ; but they grow wild in plains and 
peaty soils in the northern regions. The common 
birch is one of the hardiest of known trees ; and there 
are only one or two other species of ligneous plants 
which approach so near to the north pole. The com- 
mon bircu has been known from the earliest ages ; and 
it has long been a most valuable tree to the inhabitants 
of the extreme north of Europe ; as the kind called 
the canoe- birch has been to those of North America. 

The common birch is a diminutive shrub in the ex- 
treme north; but in the middle regions of Europe it 
becomes a tree of fifty or sixty feet in altitude. In the 
latter case it is known from all other forest-trees by 
the silvery whiteness of its outer bark ; and this bark 
constitutes one of the most valuable products of the tree. 
The birch has been more or less known from remote 
times, and has been noticed both by the classic writers 
and by poets. According to Pliny and Plutarch, the 
celebrated books which Numa Pompilius composed 
about seven hundred years before Christ, and which 
were buried with him on Mount Janiculum, were 
written on the bark of the birch-tree. In the early 
days of Rome, the lictors had their fasces made of 
birch branches, which they carried before the magis- 
trates to clear the way. 1 he branches were formerly 
used in England for ornamenting the houses during 
Rogation-week, in the same manner as holly now is at 
Christmas; and Gerard tells us that they "serve well 
to the decking up of houses, and banqueting- rooms 
for places of pleasure." There is one notice of the 
use of birch, in past writers, which, if it do not occur 
at once to the mind of a reader, will be easilv brought 
to his recollection. Evelyn says that bircn cudgels 
were used by the lictors, as now the gentler rods by 
our tyrannical pedagogues, for lighter faults." Gerard 
observes, too, that in his time " parents and school- 
masters do terrify their children with rods made of 
birch." A foreign writer remarks that the sight of a 
birch-tree " offers a vast subject of interesting medita- 
tion ; but happy the man to whom its flexible pendent 

* In the 'Divina Commcedia* (« Paradiio,' c.xi.), Dante de- 
scribes the marriage of St. Francis and Poverty in words which 
teem only to hare been rendered into form by the painter. 



branches do not recall to mind that they were formerly 
instruments of punishment to him. 1 ' Lastly we may 
quote from Shenstone's ' Schoolmistress :' 

" And all in sight cloth rise a birchen tree, 
Which Learning near her little dome did stow : 
Whilome a twig of small regard to see, 
Though now so wide its waving branches flow, 
And work the simple vassals mickle woe : 
For not a wind might curl tlte leaves that blew 
But their limbs shudder 'd, and their pulse beat low; 
And, as they look'd, they found their horror grew, 
And shaped it into rods, and tingled at the view.*' 

But leaving the scholastic use (or abuse) of the 
birch, let us turn our attention to the services which 
the tree renders in the various arts of life. Mr. 
Loudon has collected a surprising list of such uses. 

The wood of the common birch is White, shaded 
with red; of a medium durability in temperate cli- 
mates, but lasting a long time when it is grown in the 
extreme north. The grain of the wood is moderately 
fine, and it is worked with more facility in the green 
than in the dry state. The wood of old trees is both 
harder and heavier than that of young ones. It soon 
rots when laid on the ground in heaps ; and, therefore, 
immediately after the trees are felled it is deemed 
advisable to convey them at once to the timber-yard, 
without leaving them to exposure in the forests. The 
wood is employed by wheelwrights in France for the 
felloes of wheels ; and, in the interior of Russia, in the 
construction of small rustic carriages ; the felloes of 
the wheels being sometimes made of one entire stem 
of a young birch-tree, bent by heat, and retained in 
its place by ties of the spray. On the Continent, 
chairs, and many kinds of furniture, are made of birch- 
wood : and many articles of cooperage and turnery ; 
as also sabots. For cabinet-making, the birch is of 
little use till it has attained the aj^e of sixty or eighty 
years, as previously the wood is liable to warp and to 
be attacked by worms. The tree occasionally produces 
knots of a reddish tinge, marbled, light, and solid, but 
not fibrous ; and of these the Laplanders make cups 
and bowls by means of sharp knives, and turners also 
seek for such specimens. In the Highlands of Scot- 
land the wood of the birch is used in a singular variety 
of ways : it has been said that the Highlanders " make 
everything of it : they build their houses of it ; make 
their beds, chairs, tables, dishes, and spoons of it; 
construct their mills of it ; make their carts, ploughs, 
barrows, gates, and fences of it; and even inanufac 
ture ropes of it." Evelyn mentions two uses of birch 
wood which seem now to be obsolete : — " from the 
whitest part of the old wood, found commonly in 
doating birches, is made the ground of our effeminate 
fanned gallants' sweet-powder;" and "of the quite 
consumed and rotten wood is gotten the best mould for 
the raising of divers seedlings of the rarest plants and 
flowers." 

Directing our attention next to the branches and the 
spray on young shoots, we find an extraordinary variety 
of services rendered by them in different countries. 
These portions of the tree make hoops, brooms or 
besoms, ties for faggots, baskets, wicker-hurdles, and 
other similar articles : and when peeled arc used for 
making whisks for frothing up syllabubs, creams, and 
chocolate. In Poland, Russia, Sweden, Norway, and 
Lapland small bundles of the twigs, which hayc been 
gathered in summer, and dried with the leaves on, an? 
used in the vapour-baths, by the bathers, for flagel- 
lating each other as productive of perspiration. The 
inhabitants of the Alps make torches of the branches. 
In Lapland and Kamtschatka the huts are constructed 
with birch branches covered with turf ; and faggots of 
the spray with the leaves on, in cases formed of rein- 
deer-skins, serve for seats during the day and for beds 

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at night In the Highlands the branches are employed 
as fuel in the distillation of whiskey, being found to 
impart a flavour to it far superior to that produced by 
the use of fir-wood, coal, or peat. Birch spray is also 
used for smoking hams and herrings, and is preferred 
to other kinds of fuel for a similar reason. It is like- 
wise employed for thatching cottages and huts ; and, 
when dried in summer with the leaves on, forms the 
bed of many a Highlander. 

The leaves, catkins, and other green parts con- 
tribute in various ways to increase the utility of the 
birch. The leaves are rather bitter to the taste, but 
are willingly eaten by goats and rabbits ; and although 
not usually regarded as food for cattle, they may be so 
employed when youn^ and fresh; indeed they are 
dried for this purpose in Norway and Sweden. As a 
medicinal agent, it has been said that persons afflicted 
with rheumatism, by sleeping on a bed Btuffed with 
birch-leaves experience a perspiration which affords 
them great relief. A yelJow colour is obtained from 
them, which is used for painting in distemper, and for 
dyeing wool. The buds and the catkins afford a kind 
of wax analogous to that of bees. The Finlanders 
use the dried leaves as tea. 

The bark is yet more valuable than the branches or 
leaves, and forms a material without which the in- 
habitants of the cold northern countries would be 
deprived of many of their slender comforts. This 
substance is remarkable for its durability, remaining 
uncorrjupted for ages, even in situations exposed al- 
ternately to air and water, cold and moisture ; and it 
is to this property tliat the bark owes much of its 
value. Gilpin relates a circumstance in illustration of 
this durability : — " When Maupertuis travelled through 
Lapland, to measure a degree of latitude, he was 
obliged to pass through vast forests consisting entirely 
of birch. The soil in some parts of these wastes 
being very shallow or very loose, the trees had not a 
sufficient footing for their roots, and became an easy 
prey to wind. In these places Maupertuis found as 
many trees blown down as standing. He examined 
several of them, and was surprised to see that, in such 
as had lain long, the substance of the wood was entirely 
gone, but the bark remained, a hollow trunk, without 
any signs of decay." Another circumstance is worthy 
of note as exemplifying this preservative quality in the 
bark. In the mines of Devoretzkoi, in Siberia, a 
piece of birch-wood was found changed entirely into 
stone ; while the epidermis of the bark, of a satiny and 
glossy whiteness, was exactly in its natural state. 

In some countries the bark of birch is used as coping 
to walls, and is placed over the masonry of vaults 
underground, as lead is in England, to prevent the 
moisture of the soil from penetrating through it ; and 
it is for a similar reason wrapped round sills and the 
lower end of posts and other pieces of wood inserted in 
the ground, to preserve them from decay. The bark 
of large trees, cut into pieces measuring about three 
feet by two, serves the Laplanders as a kind of cape or 
eloak, a bole being made in it in the centre to admit 
the head : sometimes several pieces are used, with the 
holes only at one end ; and these, put over the head, 
and hanging down on every side, form a protection 
from rains and snows more impenetrable than any 
English garment. The same people, and also the 
Russians, convert the bark of the smaller trees into 
boots and shoes; the legs of the boots being taken 
from trees about the same thickness as a man's leg. 
The bark is also made into baskets, boxes, mats, cord- 
age for harnessing horses and reindeer, and the inner 
bark into thread ; while all the fragments are carefully 

F reserved for lighting fires or twisting into candles, 
t is extensively used by the same people in roofing 
houses The rafters are first covered with boards, on 



which plates of birch-bark are laid in the same way as 
slates are in England ; and the wnole is covered with 
turf and earth, to the depth of a foot or more, to ex- 
clude the heat in summer and the cold in winter. This 
exterior coating of earth is commonly covered with 
grass, and sometimes cultivated; and Dr. Clarke 
mentions that on some of the roofs of the Norwegian 
cottages, after the hay was taken, he found lambs 
pasturing : on one house he saw an excellent crop of 
turnips. In Kamtschatka the inner bark is dried and 
ground, like that of the Scotch pine, in order to mix it 
with oatmeal to form an article of food in times of 
scarcity ; and the same people eat the bark in small 
pieces along with the roe of fish. The bark is much 
employed for tanning; leather, both in Britain and on 
the Continent. This employment of it in England 
seems to have been new in the time of Evelyn, for he 
speaks of "Mr. Howard's new tan, made ot the tops 
and loppings of birch." The bark yields a yellowish 
brown dye converted to a brownish red by combination 
with alum ; and the Russians obtain a similarly 
coloured dye for woollen stuffs and reindeer skins from 
a decoction of birch spray. 

The ashes and the sap of the birch are in like 
manner brought into valuable use. As fuel, the birch 
ranks nearly on a level with the beech ; the wood gives 
a clear, bright, and ardent flame, and affords the kind 
of fuel most generally used in Sweden, Russia, and 
France for smelting furnaces. Its charcoal burns a 
long time, and is much in demand for making gun- 
powder and for crayons. The ashes are rich in potash ; 
one thousand pounas weight of the wood, burnt green, 
will give between ten and eleven pounds of ashes, 
which will afford about twenty ounces of potash. In 
the birch, as in other trees, the potash is most abund- 
ant in the bark, and consequently the small branches 
yield more in proportion than the trunk. 

F<getation of Hatern Australia. — One marked peculiarity of 
the vegetation of Australia is its harshness. The leaves of all 
the trees and shrubs are tough and rigid, frequently terminating 
in a thorn or very sharp point ; and to the traveller in the 
Australian forest, who may have to push his way through them, 
they present a serious inconvenience and obstacle. If it were 
required to select from among the plants of Europe such as 
would be the types or representations of the botany of Australia, 
the choice would probably fall upon the laurels, or laurestinas, 
as corresponding to the eucalypti, or gum-trees; the firs (abies) 
as answering to the casuarinas j the yew to the Nuytsia flori- 
buuda, or cabl>age~tree ; and the holly to the dryandras, and 
one species of the Bank si a. The bulrush, the furze, and the sow- 
thistle arc indigenous in New Holland, as in England. The trees 
of Western Australia possess two remarkable features ; the foliage, 
with few exceptions, is extremely thin, and the leaves present 
their edges to the sun: so that, although an expanse of forest 
land, interminable to the eye, will often extend on all sides of 
the traveller, it affords him but little shelter from the force of 
the sun's rays, and nothing of that cool and refreshing shade 
which is characteristic of sylvan scenery in Europe. The pro- 
found silence whieh prevails in these vast primeval forests is also 
very striking. It often happens that no stirrings of life in any 
shape will fall upon the ear; that nothing will be heard to sound 
or seen to move: neither the song of a bird, the buzz of a 
winged insect, the chirp of the lizard or grasshopper, nor the 
whisper of the wind, disturbing for a moment the deep repose 
and almost unnatural loneliness of the untrodden scene. In the 
open country this solemn stillness is broken by a thousand tones, 
by the bounding of the agile kangaroo, the scream of the 
calyprorhynchus, or black cockatoo, or by the cry of the plycto- 
lophus, or white cockatoo, a sound, which though not less 
dissonant, is more agreeable, as the presence of the bird always 
indicates the neighbourhood of water. But in moving through 
the country during a calm summer's day, if an individual should 
stray behind his party, and gaze on them from an eminence as 
they proceed on their journey, the whole scene might remind 
him of the bright and noiseless representations of a camera 
obscura. — Wtsltm Anttratia, 



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[CVJar m the grounds of the late T. X. Longman at Humpsttail.J 



CEDAR OF LEBANON. 

Thb cedar, the noblest of the cone-bearing trees, is 
well calculated to excite admiration from its intrinsic 
grandeur; while the associations connected with its 
frequent mention in the Bible render it still more in- 
teresting. To understand the feelings of the sacred 
writers in reference to the cedar, we must recollect 
that they lived in a country in which trees do not much 
abound, and that their grateful shade would have been 
most acceptable in the hot season. In passing over 
barren sandy deserts and rugged mountain tracts the 
shadow of the rock, rather than the shady grove, de- 
fended the traveller from the noontide heat. Crossing 
the naked ravines of Lebanon, he came to its " goodly 
cedars'* (already described in No. 561); and the repose 
beneath their stateliness, bulk, and strength could not 
but make a deep impression on any one capable of en- 
joying the beauty of natural objects. Hence the fre- 
quent reference to the cedars of Lebanon in the Bible. 
We content ourselves with citing one of these passages, 
in which Ezekiel compares the Assyrians to a mighty 
cedar : — " Behold the Assyrian was a cedar in Lebanon, 
with fair branches, and with a shadowing shroud, and 
of an high stature ; and his top was among the thick 
boughs. His boughs were multiplied, and his branches 
became long. The fir-trees were not like his boughs, 
nor the chestnut-trees like his branches, nor any tree 



in the garden of God like unto him in beauty." In 
this description two of the chief peculiarities of the 
cedar arc mentioned. Few trees send out so manv 
branches from the main stem ; and the tree which the 
prophet had in his eye was one which had reached its 
full growth and maturity, for when young, the leading 
stem shoots up singly, and does not throw out its 
lateral shoots tor some distance from the top ; but as 
it approaches its full growth, the elongation of the 
main stem in reference to the parts beneath diminishes, 
and the lateral branches increase in size and length 
until its top is among the thick houghs. The graceful 
sweep of its branches and the flat growth of the branch- 
lets are very beautiful in the cedar. Its trunk is 
massive and bulky in proportion to its height, giving 
the idea of strength as well as beauty and elegance ; 
and the limbs are proportionally robust. No tree is 
perhaps so well calculated to group with grand masses 
of architecture. It is quite unsuited to situations which 
do not correspond with its dignified appearance. 

The introduction of the cedar into England is much 
more recent than might have been anticipated ; cer- 
tainly not earlier than the latter half of the seventeenth 
century. No credit is now attached to the tradition 
that an old cedar at Enfield and one at Nendon, the 
latter blown down many years ago, were planted by 
Queen Elizabeth. Mr. Loudon (« Arboretum') con- 
jectures that Evelyn was the first who planted the 

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cedar in Britain, and that the tree at Enfield was given 
by him to Dr. Uvedale, who resided there between 
1655 and 1670. Evelyn praises the cedar in the 
4 Sylva,' and, writing in 1664, he terms it a ** beautiful 
and stately tree, clad in perpetual verdure :" adding 
that " it grows even where the snow lies, as I am told, 
almost half the year ; for so it does on the mountains 
of Li ban us, from whence I have received cones and 
seeds of those few remaining trees. Why then should 
it not grow in old England ? I know not, save for 
want of industry and trial." The introduction of the 
cedar has also been assigned to Sir Stephen Fox, an 
ancestor of the Holland family, who planted one at 
Farley, near Salisbury, besides several others in the 
gardens at Chelsea. The one at Farley was grubbed 
up in 1813, and the weight of the timber was found to 
be thirteen tons. In Scotland the cedar was first 
planted in 1740 by the Duke of Argyle, at Hopeton 
House, where three trees are still flourishing. 

Although the cedar is a native of a southern coun- 
try, yet in its proper habitat it is found growing 
at a great elevation, and exposed to a degree of cold 
which renders it hardy enough for a northern climate, 
and it is said to flourish even better in Scotland than in 
England. Sir T. Dick Lauder says that it " will suc- 
ceed better in a wet mountain soil in a Highland wood 
than in the best garden in the country/' Gravelly and 
sandy loams, near water, are very favourable to it, but 
in situations which are too dry the tree dwindles into a 
bush. When planted for ornamental purposes, it 
should enjoy ample space for the full growth of its 
branches, on the appearance of which much of its 
beauty depends. Instances are mentioned of the cedar 
having grown as rapidly as the Scotch pine, the larch, 
and the silver fir. Mr. Loudon mentions one which in 
forty years reached a height of fifty feet, the diameter 
of the bole being three feet six inches. The tallest 
cedar in England is said to be one at Strathfieldsaye, 
which is one hundred and seven feet high : and the 
largest, at Syon House, is seventy -two feet high ; dia- 
meter of the trunk at three feet from the ground, eight 
feet, and that of the head one hundred and seventeen 
feet. The specimen in our cut is seventy feet in 
height, and its girth is thirteen feet four inches. 

There arc many allusions in ancient writers to the 
fragrance and incorruptible qualities of cedar-wood, 
but they refer not only to the Lebanon cedar, but to 
the wood of the juniper and cypress, which was also 
termed cedar. There can be no doubt of the valuable 
properties of the Lebanon species for timber, but 
hitherto the timber of the same tree grown in England 
is not equal in value to the larch, or, in fact, is rather 
inferior to it in appearance, besides being of a less du- 
rable quality. It resembles common deal ; colour of 
a pale reddish white ; texture soft and spongy ; and 
the far-famed aroma scarcely exists. Mr. Selby, in his 
recent work on • Forest Trees,' regrets that the useful 
qualities of the cedar have not been tested by a greater 
number of experiments in this country. He also shows 
that the extent to which it is capable of being accli- 
matized has not yet been proved ; that is, the highest 
situation in which it will flourish in this country is 
not yet known. He is of opinion that "it would be 
found scarcely inferior, in hardihood of constitution, to 
the larch, and might be successfully cultivated, either 
in masses by itself or mixed with that tree, in those 
mountainous districts where the larch grows with the 
greatest vigour, and produces the finest timber." Mr. 
belby introduces to notice a new species of cedar, a 
native of the Himalayas and the mountains of Nepaul, 
where it reaches a height surpassing that of the Leba- 
non cedar, '* being usually one hundred and fifty feet 
at maturity, with a trunk thirty feet in circumference." 
The timber is reported to be of excellent quality, re- 



markably compact, fine and close in the grain, highly 
aromatic, very durable, of a deep rich colour, and ca- 
pable of receiving a high polish. It is as ornamental 
as it is said to be useful, and will flourish in any part 
of Great Britain. Much remains yet to be done in in- 
troducing new species of forest-trees into this country. 
The owner of a large park could scarcely enter upon a 
more gratifying plan of embellishing his property than 
by collecting from all countries of parallel latitudes to 
Great Britain, and from the elevated mountains of 
hotter countries, all those trees which are to be prized 
either for ornament or use. 



GLOVES AND GLOVERS. 

Thx manufacture of gloves is one of those few which 
are so far removed from the class of factory operations as 
to afford employment to country-people and cottagers 
at their own homes, and from the nature of the work 
it is likely so to continue. Where no advantage is to 
be gained by a combination of different branches of 
labour, all tending to one end, beneath one roof, tho 
less the freedom and independence of the labourer are 
interfered with, the better for all parties. 

A slight examination of any of the usual kinds of 
gloves will show that whatever be the material of 
which they are formed, it is brought into shape by 
means of sewing with thread, silk, or worsted ; but 
there may be some who have yet to learn that this is 
effected by the fingers, just as any other kind of 
needlework. Machinery has done much, but it has 
not yet made gloves; or, at least, such a feat, if 
achieved, is one of the curiosities of manufactures, and 
is not yet to be ranked among the features of the 
glove-trade. So far as the mass of glove -wearers are 
concerned, whether the gloves be * French ' or • Eng- 
lish,' whether they be of silk, or cotton, or worsted, or 
leather — whether they may have cost four pence or 
four shillings, every seam of every glove has been 
sewn by the hand. 

There are some very curious circumstances attend- 
ing the glove, independent of its relation to manufac- 
turing industry. It has in various countries and at 
different periods been the pledge of friendship, of love, 
and of safety ; the symbol of hatred and defiance, of 
degradation and honour; the token of loyalty; the 
tenure by which estates have been and are held ; and 
a customary offering on occasions both of sorrow and 
of joy. From an interesting little volume on this sub- 
ject by Mr. Hall, we will extract a few examples illus- 
trative of these customs and observances of tne glove. 

The first law relating to this subject is dated in 
the year 790, when Charlemagne granted a right of 
hunting to the abbot and monks of Sithin, for the pur- 
pose of procuring skins for making gloves and gir- 
dles. The abbots and monks having generally adopted 
the use of gloves about this period, the bishops inter- 
fered, claiming the exclusive privilege for themselves ; 
and by the Council of Aix, in the rei^n of Louis le 
Debonnaire, about the year 820, the inferior clergy 
were ordered to refrain from deer-skin gloves, and to 
wear only those made of sheep-skin, as being of hum- 
bler quality. It has been deemed not improbable that 
at this period the monks made their own gloves, as 
they made many other articles for their own use. 

So far as England is concerned, the first commercial 
notice of the glove-trade is dated about the year 1462, 
though gloves had been worn in England for centuries 
before. By a law or edict of this date, gloves were 
prohibited from being imported into this country by 
reason of the protection which it was deemed proper 
to give to this branch of home manufacture. Two 
years afterwards armorial bearings were granted to 
the glovers by Edward IV. At what prices gloves 



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were valued in that reign does not appear; but in the 
u Privy Expenses of Henry VIII." appear the follow- 
ing two items: — 
" Item. Puied tbe same daye to Jacson for certeyne 

glove< fetched by the serjeant apoticary iiijs. xd. 
Item. Puied Jacson for a dousin and halfe of 

Spanysshe gloves . • • vijs. vjdV 

In many of the customs relative to tbe glove, the 
gauntlet is often spoken of as being of equivalent 
meaning, but the two arc sufficiently different. The 
gauntlet introduced into England by tbe Conqueror 
u as a mailed-glove, that is, a stout glove made of deer 
or sheep skin, having jointed plates of metal affixed to 
the back* and fingers, allowing the perfect use of the 
hand ; sometimes there was attached to the top of it a 
circular defensive plate, protecting the wrist and 
meeting the armour which covered the arm. The 
metal of which these plates were composed varied 
according to the rank or fancy of the wearer ; some 
were of gold or silver inlaid, others of brass, and some 
of steel. The gauntlet or buff-glove of the days of 
the Commonwealth, such as we see in representations 
of the troopers of the seventeenth century, consisted of 
a shecp-skin glove, with a stout handsome buffalo-hide 
top coining half-way up the arm, contributing much 
to a military appearance, and serving as a protection 
to the arm. Such gauntlets are worn by several regi- 
ments of cavalry in our own day. 

The ceremonial use of the glove in matters of in- 
vestiture and tenure is illustrated in many ways. We 
may take, as an instance, the investment in the family 
of Dymocke of the manor of Scrivelsby, under the 
condition of the head of the family acting as • cham- 
pion ' at the coronation of the English sovereign, in 
which tbe glove plays a conspicuous part in the cere- 
mony. The sovereign being seated in Westminster 
Hall, after leaving the Abbey, the champion enters, 
caparisoned as an ancient knight, and the herald-at- 
arms proclaims the challenge; the champion then 
throws down his gauntlet or glove, which is allowed 
to remain on the ground for a short time, and is then 
taken up again and returned to the champion : this is 
repeated a second time, after which the sovereign 
drinks to the champion's health, and presents him the 
cup : lastly, the champion takes up his gauntlet and 
retires. r l aken in reference to modern taste and opi- 
nion, all this may seem to be mere mummery ; but as 
a thing of other days it had a significant and important 
meaning in it. In like manner the Duke of Norfolk 
held the manor of Worksop on condition of paying 
certain small fees, and of finding the kiug a right- 
hand glove at his coronation, with which glove the 
king holds the sceptre with the dove, his right arm 
being supported meanwhile by the duke. 

The glove has been deemed an emblem of firm posses- 
sion. Thus the former kings of France used at their co- 
ronation to receive from the archbishop a pair of gloves, 
previously blessed, as an emblem of secure possession. 
A register of the parliament of Paris, dated 1294, 
states that " the Earl of Flanders, by the delivery of a 
glove into the king's hands (Philip the Fair), gave 
him possession of the good towns of Flanders, viz. 
Bruges, Ghent, &c.'* Favyn states that " the custom 
of throwing the glove is derived from Eastern nations, 
who, in all sales or delivery of lands, &c., gave a glove 
by way of livery or investiture." Security, as em- 
blemed by the glove, was curiously illustrated by a 
custom prevailing until the last few years at Ports- 
mouth ; where, during an annual fair called the * Free- 
Mart,' a golden or gilt glove was hung outside the 
door of the gaol, in the High Street, as a pledge that 
the persons of all who attended the fair were secure 
from arrest from debt during its continuance, which 
was about a fortnight. 



Both honour and degradation have been typified by 
the glove, according to the circumstances attending 
*iie particular occurrence. Walsingham says that 
" George Clifford, Earl of Cumberland, was honoured 
by a glove being presented to him by Queen Elizabeth. 
The Queen had dropped it ; when the Earl taking it 
up to return it to her, the Queen presented it to him 
as a mark of her high esteem. Ihe Earl adorned it 
with jewels, and wore it in his cap on days of tourna- 
ment" On the other hand, the same writer tells us 
that when the Earl of Carlisle, in the reign of Edward 
II., was impeached, and condemned to die as a traitor 
among other circumstances attending his degradation 
were, that his spurs were cut off with a hatchet, and his 
gloves were taken off. 

Challenge and defiance have been, in various ages 
and countries, conveyed by the glove. Besides the 
instance given in reference to the * Champion ' of 
England, we have abundant evidence of such chal- 
lenges. Shakspere, in • Henry V.* gives a scene which 
well represents the nature of the custom, wherein the 
glove may be deemed either a pledge or a challenge, 
or part of both : — 

•* K, He/try. ' Give me any gage of thine, and I will wear 
it iu my bonnet. Then, if ever thou darest acknowledge it thiue, 
I will make it my quarrel. 

Williams. Here's my glove ; give me another of thine. 

K. Henry. There. 

William*. This will I also wear in my cap : if ever tliou 
come to me after to-morrow, and *ay ' This is my glove,' by this 
hand I will take thee a box on tlie ear. 

K. Henry. If ever I live to see thee, I will challenge thee." 

Sir Walter Scott's description of the interview 
between Rebecca and Beaumanoir, in ' Ivanhoe.'gives 
an instance illustrative of a very usual kind of chal- 
lenge by champion-depute; while/ the scene with 
Bonthron in the church, in the * Fair Maid of Perth/ 
similarly illustrates a formal act of defiance: — the 
glove in both cases being the emblem. In the * Life 
of the Rev. Bernard Gilpin,' it is said, in reference 
to the northern borderers of the sixteenth century : 
— •• He observed a glove hanging up high in the 
church in which he was preaching ; which was 
placed there in consequence of a deadly feud prevail- 
ing in the district ; and which the owner had hung up 
in defiance, daring any one to mortal combat who took 
it down." In the ancient •• Trial by Battle," the plain- 
tiff was wont to throw down his glove in court, which 
was then taken up by the defendant, as a token that 
they would settle their differences by the sword's 
point A defiance by glove was made in the Court of 
king's Bench so late as 1818, and it was not till after 
that period that the law by which it was permitted 
was expunged from the statute-book. 

How swearing " by the glove" could have arisen is 
not very clearly to be seen, unless the glove be here, 
as in other cases, deemed an emblem of honour and 
probity. The reader will call to mind many scattered 
illustrations, somewhat similar to the following from 
the • Merry Wives of Windsor :' — 

*• FaUtaJf. Pistol, did you pick Master Slender's purse 1 

Slender. ' Ay, by these gloves, did he — by these glove*. 

Pistol. Word of denial — froth and scum — thou lyest! 

Slender. By these gloves, 'twas he.*' 

The presentation of gloves at weddings and at 
funerals is another curious item in the catalogue. A 
passage in the ' Winter's Tale' shows that the gift of 
gloves at weddings was common in Shakspere's time ; 
and the same custom is alluded to in Ben Jon sou's 
* Silent Woman, ' where Lady Haughty says to 
Morose : — 



" We see no ensigns of a wedding here, 
"So character of a bridale : 
W litre be oui scarves and gloVes? 

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As to funerals, the practice of giving gloves at those 
solemnities has been traced back to early times. Pope 
Leo J. granted permission to bishops and abbots to 
near gloves at funerals, and on certain other solemn 
occasions. Royal and other noble personages were 
often buried with gloves on ; for on opening the tombs 
of kings and abbots, gloves have frequently been found 
either on the hands or loose in the coffins ; and it was 
stated, as an unusual circumstance, that when the 
tomb of King Edward I. was opened, no gloves were 
Ibund on his hands. In Philip I.'s monument, he is 
represented in a recumbent position, holding a glove 
in his hand ; and many other cases are recorded, in 
which gloves are either buried with a royal or military 
personage, or hung up in effigy over his tomb. 

The presentation ot gloves as a gift, with or without 
money inserted in them, is another custom which lias 
passed through many gradatious of society. James I., 
when at Woodstock, received a pair of gloves as a gift 
from the University of Oxford. The same monarch 
used to receive New Year's Gifts from his subjects, 
generally consisting of elegant gloves; and bo like- 
wise did his predecessor, Elizabeth. There was for- 
merly a custom of presenting judges with gloves ; 
but this became an abuse, in a way which the follow- 
ing anecdote will illustrate : — A lady, a suitor in 
Chancery whose cause had been favourably decided by 
Sir T. More, presented him, on the next New Year's 
Day, with a pair of gloves containing a considerable 
sum of money. His remark was, " I accept the 
gloves : it would be against all good manners to 
refuse a lady's New Year's Gift, but the lining you 
will be pleased to bestow elsewhere.'' 



Whaling off New Zealand. — The whale-boats are admirably 
adapted for the purpose for which they are iu tended. They are 
of various construction, and are designated as English, Freucb, 
or American: each has some peculiarity to n commend it. 
They are capable of resisting the rough sea of Cook's Straits, 
but are at the same time swift and buoyant. When starting on 
a whaling expedition, the boats leave Te-awa-iti before the dawn 
of the morning. Each has either five or six oars, and a crew ac- 
cordingly. The boat-steerer and headsman are the principal 
men in the boat, and are generally Europeans; the rest are 
natives. They pull to the entrance of Tory Channel, where a 
view opens over Cook's Straits and Cloudy Bay from the southern 
headland, where they keep a " look-out " for the spouting of a 
whale. The boat which kills the calf claims the cow, even 
though it should have been killed by another boat's crew. If a 
whale has been killed, the different boats assist each other in 
towing it to Te-awa-iti. I once saw ten or twelve boats towing 
in a whale. Each boat had a little flag, and the whole seine 
was gay and animated. One day a calf had been killed, and 
the cow, having been fastened upon, but not despatched, was 
towed inside the channel. Gasping in the agonies of death, the 
tortured animal, when close to our ship, threw up jets of blood, 
which dyed the sea all around ; and, beating about with its tail, 
it broke a boat right in the middle, and threw the crew into the 
water ; but it at length died, exhausted from the many wounds 
which the irons and harpoons had inflicted. The calf was stated 
by the whalers to be six weeks old (on what grounds I do not 
know), and was twenty-four feet long. It was cut up in a few 
minutes, and gave several barrels of oil. The process was so 
rapid, that when I came ashore I found only the head. I cut 
out the brains, the weight of which, amounting fo five pounds 
and one ounce, astonished me greatly. The whalebone was very 
soft, and therefore useless. There were two hundred plates of it 
on each side of the roof of the upper jaw. I got the whole roof 
cut off; and, intending to dry and preserve it, I placed it on the 
roof of a native house ; but on die following morning I had the 
mortification to find that the rats and native dogs had found their 
way to it in the night, and had eaten all the softer parts, so that 
the rest fell to pieces. A portion of the heart of this calf was 
roasted and sent to our table. In taste I found it very like heef, 
but it was darker in colour. The cow was sixty feet long, and 



measured between the ftns on the belly eighty-two inches. Her 
skin was a velvet-like black, with the exception of a milk-white 
spot round the navel. As regards the colour of the whale, I 
have been repeatedly assurrd that it is sorm times speckled ; and 
that even perfect albinos, or cream-coloured ones, are seen, which 
must indeed be beautiful animals. The fat or blubber of this 
w4iale was nine inches thick, ond yielded eight tuns and a half 
of oil. Whales have been known to yield twelve or thirteen turn- 
out I have been told tliat so large a quantity is now very rarely 
obtained, from the great decrease of the wliah s. A whale which 
yields nine tuns is at present regarded as a very good one. The 
tongue was of a white or ash colour, blackish towards the root. 
This organ gave several barrels of oil, and is a monopoly of the 
11 tonguer," or •• cutter-in.'' The latter ojieration is performed 
in Te-awa-iti near the shores, where, by means of a wiudlast, the 
whale is raised to the surface of the water under a scaffold called 
the " shears."' The blubber is cut off in square pieces by means 
of a sliarp spade : it is then earned to the shore, and immediately 
put into the trying-nots. The *' cuttiiig-np*' of a whale, sscar*- 
dum artetn, is a process which requires great proficiency, like 
that of the skilful dissector, who separates the cutis, and with it 
at once all fat and cellular tissue, from the subjacent muscles. 
Iu the whale the blubber is to be regarded as the cutis, in the 
cellular structure of which the oily matter has liecu deposited. 
Shortly after the death of the fish \\vt m epidermis comes off in 
large nieces, looking like oiled and dried satin. — DiefftMbwh** 
Travel* in New Zealand. 



Food of Native* of Autlraita. — Generally speaking, the I 
natives live well ; iu some districts there may at particular sea- I 
sons of the year be a deficiency of food, but if such is the case, 
these tracts are at those times deserted. It is, however, utterly 
impossible for a traveller or even for a strange native to judge 
whether a district affords an abuudauce of food, or the contrary ; 
for iu traversing extensive parts of Australia, I have found the 
sorts of food vary from latitude to latitude, so that the vegetable 
productions used by the at>origines in one are totally different to 
those in another ; if, therefore, a stranger has no one to point out 
to him the vegetable productions, the soil beneath his feet may ' 

teem with food, whilst he starves. The same rule holds good 
with regard to animal productions ; for example, In the southern 
|nrts of the continent the Xantborrea affords an inexhaustible 
supply of fragrant grubs, which an epicure would delight in, # 

when once he has so far conquered nis prejudices as to taste 
them; whilst in proceeding to the northward, these trees de- 
cline iu health ami growth, until about the parallel of Gau- 
theaurae Hay they totally disappear, and even a native finds him- 
self cut off from his ordinary supplies of insects; the same cir- 
cumstances taking place with regard to the roots and other kinds 
of food at the same time, the traveller necessarily finds himself 
reduced to cruel extremities. A native from the plains, taken 
into an elevated mountainous district near his own country, for 
the first time, is equally at fault. But in his own district a 
native is very differently situated; he knows exactlv what it 
produces, the proper time at which the several articles are in 
season, and the readiest means of procuring them. According to 
these circumstances he regulates his visits to the different por- 
tions of his hunting-ground; and I can only state that I have 
always found the greatest abundance in their huts. There ar* t 
however, two periods of the year when they are at times subjected 
to the pangs of hunger ; these are in the hottest time of summer, 
and iu the height of the rainy season. At the former period the 
heat renders them so excessively indolent, that until forced by 
want they will not move; and at the latter, they suffer sj se- 
verely from the cold and rain, that I have known them remaiu 
for two successive days at their huts without quitting the fire ; 
and even when they do quit it, they always carry a fire-stick 
with them, which greatly embarrasses their movements. Iu all 
ordinary seasons, however, they can obtain in two or three hours 
a sufficient supply of food for the day, but their usual custom is 
to roam iudoltutly from spot to spot, lazily collecting it as the/ 
wander along. — Captain Gray* Jam matt. 



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firmer texture. The lungs are now rapidly develop- 
ing, a change in the routine of the circulation is 
gradually taking place, the branchiae are becoming 
absorbed ; towards the middle or close of autumn they 
disappear, and air, instead of water, becomes the medium 
of respiration. In the branchiae of the tadpole of the 
newt, when the fore-limbs are beginning to sprout, or 
have made some progress, the circulation of the blood 
when viewed through a good microscope is calculated 
to excite the greatest admiration. Their transparency 
is such as to permit the currents of globules rapidly 
coursing eacli other to be distinctly seen as they 
ascend the arteries and return by the veins to the aorta. 
A similar transformation takes place in the tadpole of 
the frog, with this addition, that the compressed tail 
shrinks as the branchiae arc in progress of obliteration, 
and is at last absorbed. In the tadpole condition of 
these animals the circulation of the blood resembles 
that of fishes. The heart consists of one auricle and 
one ventricle. The auricle receives the blood of the 
general system, and immediately transmits it to the 
ventricle, which is muscular ; from this ventricle it is 
propelled through a system of branchial arteries, where 
it becomes decarbonized by the action of oxygen ; 
from these arteries it passes into the branchial veins, 
which ultimately unite to form an aorta, without 
the intervention of a second ventricle. Wherr the 
branchiie are lost, the heart and circulation have 
assumed new characters; the heart then consists of a 
ventricle and two auricles, and by wonderful modifi- 
cations the branchial becomes transformed into a pul- 
monic circulation. The right auricle receives the 
blood returned from the system, the left auricle the 
freshly oxygenated blood returned from the lungs; 
both these auricles transmit their contents into the 
ventricle, which thus receives exhausted and also 
rc-arlerialized blood, the two fluids becoming more or 
less mixed together. Part of this mixed fluid is sent 
through the aorta to the system, part through the pul- 
monary arteries to undergo a still further degree of 
oxygenation in the lungs. 

The Great Water- Newt (Triton cristatus) attains to 
the length of more than six inches ; and is one of the 
most aquatic of its genus, residing almost constantly in 
the water : we have, however, several times captured 
it in meadows, especially in Cheshire (where it is 
termed Asker), at the latter part of the summer : its 
bright orange-coloured abdomen with distinct round 
spots of black, together with its size, prevent the possi- 
bility of confounding it with any other species, except 
perhaps the Triton palmipes, of which the under sur- 
face is saffron-yellow, or, as Latreille states, white with- 
out spots. The great water-newt is active and vora- 
cious : it feeds during the spring and summer on the 
tadpole of the frog, and also upon the smaller species 
6f newt, which it attacks ajid seizes with the utmost 
determination ; it will also prey upon worms and insects, 
and may be taken by means of a hook baited with a 
small worm. It swims vigorously, lashing its com- 
pressed tail from side to side, the limbs being so dis- 
posed as to offer no resistance to the water : we have 
seen it, however, crawl slowly at the bottom of the 
water, as well as on land, where its movements are 
inert; its small feeble limbs are indeed ineffectual 
organs of locomotion. In this respect it differs very 
greatly from the common lizard (Zootoca vivipara), the 
actions of which are exceedingly prompt and rapid ; 
but the scale-clad lizard uses not only its limbs, but its 
whole body and tail in a serpent-like manner in pro- 
gression, and appears to glide through the tangled 
herbage. The newt, like the frog, hybernates ; gene- 
rally it lies in a torpid state during the winter in the 
mud at the bottom of ponds and ditches. Mr. Bell, 
however, states that he has found it hybernating under 



stones, and we ourselves on one occasion, early in the 
spring, saw several creeping out from under some 
large flags placed to support a bank by a road-side 
not far from the river Bollen in Cheshire. On taking 
up one by the tail, as we well remember, the tail to 
our dismay broke short off, and continued for some 
time to be rapidly agitated. The same we have seen 4 
take place when the common lizard has been seized 
in a similar manner. In the newt the tail is re-pro- 
duced after such an accident, and, we believe, also in 
the lizard : this is certainly the case in the Geckos. 

On awaking from its lethargy in the spring, the 
male begins to assume a membranous dorsal and 
caudal crest, by wfiich he is at once distinguished from 
the female. The dorsal crest, which extends along 
the whole length of the back down the spine, has its 
edge indented ; but that along the tail has the edge 
even : with the completion of this crest the colours 
become brighter and more decided, and the animal is 
more lively and vigorous. At the latter end of April, 
and during the months of May and June, the female 
deposits her eggs, not, as in the case of the frog, in 
multitudes all agglutinated together in a gelatinous 
medium, but one by one, each in a distinct spot from 
the other. Resting on the leaf of some aquatic plant, 
she folds it by means of her two hinder feet, and in the 
duplication of the leaf thus made she deposits a single 
egg, gluing at the same time the folded parts together, 
thus concealing and protecting the enclosed deposit. 
This process was first described by Rusconi, and has 
since been minutely detailed by Mr. Bell, who has 
often observed the process. It is in this manner that 
egg after egg, at various intervals, is secured each in a 
separate leaf. Soon after their deposition, changes in 
the eggs begin to show themselves, with an according 
development of the embryo, till its exclusion, when it 
passes gradually through the transmutations already 
detailed, till it acquires its permanent condition. 

The membranous dorsal crest of the male continues 
till the autumn, when it is gradually absorbed, and 
quite lost during the period of hybernation ; that of 
the tail is also greatly reduced, but not entirely, a 
trace of it still remaining. 

In this species the upper lip is slightly pendulous ; 
the teeth are numerous and minute; the head flattened, 
the body round, corrugated, and covered with minute 
tubercles. There are two patches of simple pores on 
each side of the head, and a line of similar pores run- 
ning at distant intervals down each side. The upper 
parts of the body are dusky-black or yellowish-brown 
with darker round spots, the under parts orange with 
round spots of black ; the sides are dotted with white ; 
the sides of the tail are to a greater or lesser extent of 
a silvery-white. 

The common Smooth Newt (Lissotriton punctatus, 
Bell) differs considerably from the Great Water-Newt 
in its habits. It is much more terrestrial, frequenting 
damp places, and is often found in cellars and under- 
' ground vaults. Shaw indeed, in his • General Zoology/ 
asserts that the common newt is altogether a terres- 
trial species, and contradicts the statement of Linnaeus, 
that during its larva or tadpole condition it inhabits 
the water. 

He says, ** I can safely affirm that I have more than 
once met with, specimens in perfectly dry situations, so 
extremely minute as scarcely to equal half an inch in 
length, which appeared to differ in no respect except 
in magnitude from the full-grown animal." We have 
seen the same in damp cellars in abundance ; and we 
believe them to be the young just emerged from their 
tadpole state, at which period numbers leave the 
water and visit the land, where they crawl about in 
search of a congenial shelter. This fact was observed 
by J. Ellis, F.R.S., who asserts, in a letter to the Royal 



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Society dated June 5, 1766, that the Water-Eft, or 
Newt, is only the larva of the Land-Eft, as tadpoles are 
of frogs. Rusconi has amply confirmed Ellis's state- 
ment; and other naturalists, among whom we espe- 
cially mention Mr. Bell, have watched the progress of 
the newt from the egg to maturity, noting every stage 
of the transformation. 

It is true, however, that these young newts are seen 
in places into which it is difficult to conceive how 
they could have gained access : one cellar in particular 
wc could point out, in which these little creatures were 
common, but which was remote from any clear ditch 
or pond in which they could have been bred, and yet 
they were too small and feeble to have travelled far ; 
to say nothing of the impediments of high walls, &c. 
in the way of their migration. They were pallid, slow 
in their motions, and destitute of all trace of branchiae. 
A circumstance relative to the frog involved in a si- 
milar difficulty came under our personal observation. 
We know indeed that young frogs migrate, and appear 
suddenly in great numbers in fields, lanes, &c, as if 
they had sprung at once into being ; but the instance 
in point cannot be reconciled with this kind of migra- 
tion. The fact is as follows : — Our garden is enclosed 
with a high wall ; an alluvial soil rests upon a thin 
layer of clay, superimposed upon abed of sandy gravel, 
below which is the ordinary layer of London clay. 
The gravel, when bored, yields water, and wells are 
sunk in it. Now in this garden — so placed that no frog, 
unless it could leap many feet high or burrow like a 
mole, could, as it would seem, enter — in the summer 
of 1841 two large colonies of young frogs made their 
sudden appearance ; they had just emerged from 
their tadpole state, and they occupied different spots. 
One colony consisted of light-coloured, ihe other of 
very dusky individuals ; and this difference they pre- 
served as they grew, to the close of autumn. They 
hybernatcd in the mould along the sides of the waif, 
under flowerpots and tufted vegetables, and re- 
appeared in the following spring. They still continue 
in the garden, though their numbers appeared 
thinned at the close of last autumn. No fresh colony, 
however, made its appearance in the summer, of 1842. 
The question is, where could these young frogs, just 
out of the tadpole state, have come from. A gentle- 
man well known in the scientific world, to whom 
we related the fact, and who examined the premises, 
agreed that they could not have gained admittance in 
the ordinary way. We can scarcely suppose that they 
burrowed under the wall. Might not the eggs have 
descended from rivulets and flooded drainage-courses 
to the ground-springs of the gravel bed, and there in 
cavities or fissures filled with water have become 
hatched, the tadpoles undergoing their change, and 
feeding on insects brought down by the same means, 
worms, &c, and then have subsequently made their 
way through crevices in the earth till they gained the 
' surface. Now in the cellar referred to, into which 
the ground-spring often rose, might not something 
similar occur in the case also of the newts ? 

To return from this digression. The common or 
smooth water-newt is found in all clear ponds and 
ditches or drainages ; in the spring the males appear 
ornamented with a continuous membranous crest from 
the head down the back to the end of the tail. This 
crest they lose in the month of June or July, when 
both adults and young quit the water for the land, 
where they creep about, lodging in damp places, 
among the roots of trees, under stones, in crevices of 
the ground, &c. Early in the winter the crest of the 
male re-appears, and is complete in the beginning of 
the spring, at which period he assumes a richer colour- 
ing. Aquatic insects and their larvae, worms, and the 
tadpoles of the frog, constitute the food of this species, 



which in turn falls a prey to fishes and to the great 
water-newt. The female deposits her eggs much in 
the same manner as already described, generally 
within a folded leaf, but not unfrequently at the junc- 
tion of the leaf with the stalk. Mr. Bell states he has 
sometimes seen the females in the act of placing eggs 
not only singly, but by two, three, and four together. 

The growth of the youn§ is rapid, and they arrive 
nearly at their full size during the course of the first 
summer and autumn ; but it would appear that the 
transformations are not concluded in tlie same space 
of time by all ; for specimens are sometimes found 
which have not lost the branchiae, and yet are far 
larger than other individuals in which the transforma- 
tion is completed. Temperature, food, locality, and 
other circumstances may influence the slowness or 
rapidity of the change. 

In this species, as proved by Spallanzani, not only 
the tail, but also portions of the limbs may be removed, 
the lost parts being in due time reproduced, bones, 
muscles, nerves, blood-vessels, and all : nor this only 
once, but several times in succession. So tenacious, 
in fact, is the newt, that it has been frozen in a solid 
mass of ice, and survived the ordeal if the thawing 
process was slow. Yet tenacious of life as this and 
the other species certainly are, they die in the most 
violent convulsions when sprinkled with salt, and evi- 
dently suffer extreme agony. No one, we trust, will 
be so inhuman as to try the experiment. 

In the common newt the skin is smooth ; on the head 
there are two rows of pores ; the crest of th# male is 
not only much developed in the spring, but its margin 
is crenate, the tips of the crenations being often 
tinged with fine red, sometimes violet. The general 
colour is yellowish or brownish grey above, bright 
orange below, and everywhere marked with dark 
spots, some rounded, some of an irregular figure. 
r l he female is yellowish-brown, with scattered spots, 
and without the rich orange of the under surface. 
The upper lip is quite straight. This species is three 
and a half or nearly four inches in total length. 

Of the two other British species, one is the Straight- 
lipped Warty Newt {Triton Bibroniu Bell), and the 
Pat mated Newt {Lissotriton palmipes, Bell). The 
former (T. Bibronii) differs from the Great Water- 
Newt, T. cristatus) in having the upper lip perfectly 
straight, and not overhanging the lower at its sides. 
The skin also is more rugous and strongly tubercu- 
lated, and the general colour is darker. M. Bibron 
first detected the existence of this species in England, 
and pointed out the differences between it and the 
Great Water-Newt, with which it had always been 
confounded ; at the same time he regarded it as the 
T. marmoratus of Latreille, common on the Continent. 
Mr. Bell, however, thinks it distinct, and consequently 
new to science. His opinion is founded on a close 
comparison of several individuals with specimens of 
Latreille's T. marmoratus, sent from Pans by M. Bi- 
bron for his examination. Its manners and habits are 
precisely those of the great water-newt, and it is 
perhaps equally abundant. 

The Palmated Water-Newt is also a common spe- 
cies, but has been by most naturalists confounded with 
the common species, from which it differs in having 
the upper lip pendulous at the sides and the five toes 
of the hind-feet fringed permanently with a short 
membrane. It is also of larger size, and the spots 
which cover the body both above and below are more 
numerous and smaller, and their outline is more dis- 
tinctly defined ; the head also is elegantly marked with 
brown longitudinal lines. Like the common species, 
however, it is liable to some variation of markings. 



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[The Bheels.] 



THE TRIBES OF INDIA. 



The Bheels are the aboriginal inhabitants of the 
western parts of India: at some remote period, be- 
yond the reach of historical records, they were driven 
from the plains, and now inhabit the wild tract of 
country which separates Malwa from Nemaur and 
Guzerat. According to the traditions of their con- 
querors, the Bheels were the founders of many of the 
cities and towns of Central India. The history of 
such a people is always impressive, often mournful, 
and almost every part of the world has presented in- 
stances of similar vicissitudes of the human race pro- 
duced by brute force and the power of numbers over 
right and justice. Sometimes the extermination of 
races has been a just punishment for their vices and 
wickedness ; but when they have nobly struggled for 
independence, it is impossible to regard their fate with- 
out sympathy. Generally a remnant of the vanquished 
has found refuge in the fastnesses of the mountains, 
where for ages afterwards may be traced a language, 
manners, and usages long since obliterated in the more 
accessible parts of the country. These characteristics 
of national life are preserved amid the seclusion of 
mountain districts, and are often found after the plains 
have been the scene of many successive changes. 
The Bheels are quite a distinct race from any other in 
India, though their manners are described as resem- 
bling the Puharrees, another or perhaps the same abori- 
ginal race, inhabiting the eastern parts of India, and 
whose fate has been similar. Bishop Heber describes 
them as 4 * less broad-shouldered and with laces less Kel- 
tic than the Puharreos," who, he says, very much resem- 
ble the Welsh. While the history of the Bheels naturally 



excites curiosity, their dispersion over rugged tracts of 
country, and their ignorance and prejudices, are ob 
staclcs to intercourse ; and little is known concerning 
their habits, customs, and forms of worship, except that 
they are different from those of other races of India. 
The word 4 Bhcel,' which signifies a robber or plunderer, 
is applied generally to the people who dwell in the 
mountains of Central India and amidst the thickets on 
the banks of rivers ; but used comprehensively in this 
manner, it includes many who are not real Bheels, 
though they have adopted their predatory habits. 

Sir John Malcolm divides the Bheels into three 
classes : — those who live in villages, the agricultural 
Bheels, and the wild Bheels of the hills. «• The first," 
he says, •• consist of a few who, from ancient residence 
or chance, have become inhabitants of villages on the 
plain (though near the hills), of which they are the 
watchmen, and are incorporated as a portion of the 
community. The cultivating Bheels are those who 
have continued in their peaceable occupations after 
their leaders were destroyed or driven by invaders to 
become desperate freebooters ; and the wild or moun- 
tain Bheel comprises all that part of the tribe, who, 
preferring savage freedom and indolence to submission 
and industry, have continued to subsist by plunder." 
It is interesting to remark that in proportion as sur- 
rounding governments were well ordered and strong 
enough to protect the country, numbers of the moun- 
tain Bheels were accustomed to abandon their preda- 
tory habits and join their more peaceful brethren ; but 
the weakness and disorganization of the supreme 
power was again the signal for them to resume their 
wild life, and once more the terror which they inspired 
added to the confusion and disorder of society. 



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The wild Bheels, according to Sir Jobn Malcolm, arc 
a diminutive, ill-fed, and wretched-looking people, 
though, he says, they are active and capable ox great 
fatigue. They are much addicted to excesses in 
spirituous liquors, and frequently assemble for drinking 
bouts, which generally end in quarrels. The village 
Bheels arc faithful and honest, and those who live by 
cultivation are industrious, but rude in their manners, 
easily assimilating to their wilder brethren. Heber, 
who writes several years later, speaking of the Bheels, 
says, ''Thieves and savages as they are, the officers with 
whom I conversed thought them on the whole a better 
race than their conquerors. Their word is more to be 
depended on ; they are of a franker and livelier cha- 
racter ; their women are far better treated and enjoy 
more influence ; and though the Bheels shed blood 
without scruple in cases of deadly feud or in the regu- 
lar way in a foray, they arc not vindictive or inhospi- 
table under other circumstances." When Sir Jonn 
Malcolm exerted himself to reform the habits of the 
Bheels, he found his efforts heartily seconded by the 
women, whose interests indeed are everywhere im- 
proved by whatever diminishes crime, and substitutes 
industry "and steady habits for a life of violence and 
disorder. The rude religion of the Bheels bears 
wme resemblance to that or the Hindoos, but they ex- 
cite the horror of the latter bv eating the flesh of the 
cow. Their ceremonies are chiefly propitiatory, con- 
sisting of offerings to the minor internal deities of the 
Hindoo mythology. 

Bishop Heber describes a Bheel village. ** The 
huts," he says, •• were all of the rudest description ; of 
sticks wattled with long grass, and a thatch of the 
same, with boughs laid over it to keep it from being 
blown away. They were crowded close together, as if 
for mutual protection, but with a small thatched in- 
closure adjoining for their cattle. Their fields were 
also neatly fenced in with boughs, a practice not 
common in India but probably necessary here to keep 
off the deer and antelopes from their corn." In an- 
other part of the country he found some Bheel huts 
neater and better constructed than the above. " Each 
was built of bamboos wattled so as to resemble a 
basket; they had roofs with very projecting eaves, 
thatched with grass, and very neatly lined with the 
large leaves of the teak-tree. The upper part of each 
gable end was open for the smoke to pass out. The 
door was wattled and fastened with a bamboo plait 
and hinges, exactly like the lid of a basket ; ana the 
building was inclosed with a fence of tall bamboo 
poles, stuck about an inch apart, connected with cross- 
pieces of the same, and with several plants of the ever- 
lasting pea trained over it Within this fence was a 
small stage elevated on four poles, about seven feet 
from the ground, and covered with a low thatched 
roof." This stage served either as a sleeping-place for 
the sake of coolness or protection from wild beasts ; or, 
as it stood in the centre of a patch of Indian corn, it 
might be intended as a post to watch the crop from. 

Under our Indian administration, the districts in 
which the Bheels were accustomed to make their 
forays now enjoy a security for life and property which 
is gradually becoming more complete. Many of them 
are received into our service as soldiers, and those 
who have not given up their robber habits have litfle 
hope of reviving the former extensive and organized 
predatory system. When Bishop Heber travelled in 
these parts ot the country in 1825, he was told that 
" five years ago a thousand men could hardly have 
forced their way through these jungles and their in- 
habitants ;'* but then he was safe with sixty. The 
Bheels, however, still plundered smaller parties. 
Their chiefs have no longer the chance of seizing the 



riches of a wealthy province, and by their successes 
and genius fixing themselves on thrones. The power 
of the Bheel principalities, which was very similar to 
that exercised by a Highland chief over the clan, had 
been declining before British authority was extended 
to Central India, and from its nature it must at all 
times have depended upon the successes and talent of 
the chief. Sir John Malcolm says : — " The rights of 
the different tribes or families, of which the force of 
the principal chiefs is formed, are defended by an 
hereditary Turvee, or head, to whom they owe obedi- 
ence, and who, though he may become tne subject of 
a principal chief, maintains an independence propor- 
tionate to the strength of his followers." The military 
force of a chief would usually consist of several 
hundred men, but his ranks would increase in propor- 
tion to his success. The revenue consisted for the 
most part of plunder, and the government was of the 
rudest character, administered, not by the Turvees or 
heads of families, but by officers appointed by the 
chief. The Dewan kept the few records which were 
necessary. A collector gathered the dues from hamlets, 
received cattle that were stolen, and distributed them 
according to established usage. The Havildar, or 
commander of the horse, took charge of cattle at the 
time they were plundered, and delivered them to the 
collector. The head executioner always attended the 
chief. The duty of watching the roads and giving 
information respecting unprotected villages and tra- 
vellers was an office ot much importance. 



GLOVES AND GLOVERS. 

[Concluded from page 96.] 

Mr. Hall, in his * History of the Glove Trade,' states 
that Scotland was the first country in which the 
glovers were incorporated. King Robert III. gave 
the glovers of Perth a charter so long back as the year 
1400 ; the gloves made at that time being chiefly buck 
and doe-skin. Scotland has not maintained the posi- 
tion which this priority would seem to indicate ; for, 
with the exception of a few at Dundee and Montrose, 
there are hardly any gloves now made in that country. 

In London the glovers were incorporated by Charles 
I. in 1638: although they had armorial bearings so 
long back as the year 1464. In the time of Charles I. 
the glovers of London carried on an important trade ; 
and it was partly to remove certain abuses which had 
gradually crept into the occupation, that the charter 
was given. The preamble, after stating that a peti- 
tion had been received from the glovers of the metro- 
f)olis, proceeds in the following curious strain : — " We 
lave been informed that their families are about four 
hundred in number, and upon them depending above 
three thousand of our subjects, who are much decayed 
and impoverished by reason of the great confluence of 
persons of the same art, trade, or mystery into our 
said cities of London and Westminster, from all parts 
of our kingdom of England and dominion of Wales, 
that, for the most part, have scarcely served any time 
thereunto, working of gloves in chambers and corners, 
and taking apprentices under them, many in number, 
as well women as men, that become burdensome to the 
parishes wherein they inhabit, and are a disordered 
multitude, living without proper government, and 
making naughty and deceitful gloves.'" It is then 
stated that the reputation of English glovers had been 
injured abroad by these interloptrs ; and finally, the 
London company is endowed with the enormous power 
to "search ior and destroy bad or defective skins 
leather, or gloves." 

Deer and sheep-skin gloves were the kind principally 



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made in London in Charles's time ; but after the in- 
troduction of kid gloves into England, the London 
makers took up that branch, and have maintained 
eminence in it to the present day. It was estimated, 
eight or ten years ago, that there were about sixteen 
hundred glove-makers, men and women, in London, 
who made fifty thousand dozen pairs annually. 

The City of Worcester has gained great reputation 
for its gloves. This branch of manufacture is known 
to have existed there for two hundred and seventy 
years ; and the glovers of the city were incorporated 
in 1661. Beaver-gloves (made of leather dressed with 
oil) used to be made here ; but when these began to 
get nearly out of fashion, the manufacturers took up 
the manufacture of * tawed ' or alumed leather-gloves 
(of which kid is an example) in greater quantities than 
before. A few years ago the produce of Worcester 
and its vicinity was estimated at so large a quantity as 
nearly half a million dozen pairs annually, the value 
of which was nearly four hundred thousand pounds. 

The glove trade of Worcester, in its general arrange- 
ments, is very interesting. The master-manufacturers 
were estimated in 1832 at a hundred and twenty ; and 
the operatives, including men, women, and children, 
at thirty thousand. But it must not be supposed that 
this large number inhabit the city of Worcester : there 
are, on the contrary, only a small number of glove- 
makers within the city ; the bulk of them being scat- 
tered throughout the villages lying ten or a dozen 
miles on every side of it. The sewing of a pair of 
gloves requires so little preparation or arrangement, 
that an humble cottager can carry on the occupation in 
her own poor dwelling; while her husband, and per- 
haps her children, are at work in the fields or the 
farm -yard. 

If we trace a pair of Worcester kid-gloves through 
their progress of manufacture, we shall see the details 
of the system followed. In the first place the leather, 
whether it be real kid, or * imitation kid ' made of 
lamb's-skin, is generally prepared in London, by some 
one of the many leather-dressers of Bermondsey ; or, 
in some cases, the skins undergo the earlier processes 
of dressing in Bermondsey, and are then dyed, softened, 
and brougnt to a finished state by the master-manufac- 
turer at Worcester. Many of the Bermondsey leather- 
dressers have agents in Worcester, to transact the 
dealings \vith the master glovers. The dressed skins 
are cut out in the workshop of the master, generally 
' by means of large shears ; the workman shaping the 
various pieces partly by guides and partly by the accu- 
racy of his eye and hand. The thumb-pieces, the 
pieces to form the sides of the fingers, &c, all of 
which have certain technical names, are cut out with 
much rapidity, and bound up in small parcels, each 
parcel containing the necessary pieces for a dozen pair 
of gloves. Some manufacturers employ a cutting- 
machine, for giving the shape to each piece of leather 
by one descent of a cutting-edge ; but we believe that 
the use of such a'inachine is rather an exception than 
a rule. 

1 f the operative glovers live in or near Worcester, 
they go to the house of the manufacturer, receive the 
leather in small parcels, and carry it home to work up 
into gloves. But if they live ten or twelve miles out, 
a curious system is followed. The manufacturer 
sends an agent, once a week, or as often as may be 
deemed necessary, who opens a temporary warehouse 
at a public-house or at some hired room, and there 
meets all the humble workpeople who live within a few 
miles on every side. Each operative brings to the 
agent the gloves which he or she may have made 
since the last visit, receives the money-payment for 
the labour, and takes home another supply of leather, 



to be worked up before the period of the next visit 
Precision, certainly, and economy of time result from 
this plan. There is one great focus at Worcester ; 
around which, at a distance of several miles, are minor 
foci. These smaller foci draw towards themselves the 
labour of a little circle each, and then yield them up 
to the central mart, whence the capital comes which 
sets all this productive industry into action. 

Following one of the operative glovers to her home, 
we shall see that her only working implements, besides 
needles and thread or silk, is a clasp or clam which she 
holds between the feet and knees, and which acts as a 
pincer or vice to retain the glove in a fixed position 
during the process of sewing. In some few cases, how- 
ever, a little instrument is employed for ensuring regu- 
larity in the stitches : this is a kind of brass comb, or 
notched plate, whose notches guide the needle. If we 
notice a few pairs of gloves, different in kind and 
price, we shall see that different appearances are pre- 
sented by the threads ; but all are produced by a kind 
of stitching or sewing precisely the same as that by 
which many other garments are made. Some females 
confine their attention to sewing the different pieces 
together ; some work the ornamental stitching at the 
back of the glove ; while others finish the top. 

Under many an humble roof in the outskirts of Wor- 
cester may be seen a mother and her daughters thus 
employed. It is, under the average state of trade, a 
close day's work which will yield a shilling to the 
workwoman. The occupation is somewhat analogous 
in this respect to the straw-plait working of Bed- 
fordshire and Buckinghamshire, which, like it, is car- 
ried on in the cottages. It is possible that we might 
be able to construct a sort of map of cottage-industry 
in England, consisting of certain centres, around 
which were grouped the cottagers engaged in some 
one occupation. Thus taking Worcester as a centre 
for the glove-trade, and Redditch as another for the 
needle-trade, we should find these two groups meeting 
each other in some intermediate point ; and we should 
perhaps find a third group filling or partially filling 
the space between those of Worcestershire and those 
of the straw-plait counties. ^ 

There are several towns in England which now 
possess, or have at former times possessed, a reputa- 
tion for glove-making. Woodstock gloves have been 
known ever since the time of Queen Elizabeth, who is 
said to have received a pair during one of her 4 pro- 
gresses.' They are made of English deer, sheep, and 
Iambs' skins, and have been much admired for the 
beauty of their workmanship. Hexham gloves were 
formerly much worn, especially as gauntlets to suits of 
armour ; but in modern times the trade has declined, 
probably from the stout and unwieldy nature of the 
gloves : the Hexham tan-gloves were made of tanned 
sheep-skins. A kind of glove, made of native sheep 
and lamb skins, was formerly much esteemed under 
the name of York tans, being made to a considerable 
extent in that city. The Hereford beaver-gloves were 
similarly in repute, and at one time employed three 
thousand persons in their manufacture. At Ludlow 
and at Kington, in past times, large quantities of 
gloves were made, but the number has now greatly 
declined. A similar remark may be made in refer- 
ence to the Leominster gloves. Yeovil is one of the 
most important of our glove towns. The number of 
pairs made there has been estimated at three hundred 
thousand dozens annually ; and the number of opera- 
tive glovers within the district of which Yeovil is the 
centre, twenty thousand. The finer kinds of gloves, 
as well as military gloves, are made here; formerly 
English skins were wholly used, but now Spanish, Ita- 
lian, and German lamb-skins aro the principal kinds 



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employed. Martock, Milborno Port, Glastonbury, 
Wells, Shcpton Mallet, and Torr ington, are all centres 
to a limited amount of glove-making. 

There are two circumstances which have made a 
notable change in the glove-trade of late years, viz. 
the introduction of cotton or * Berlin ' gloves, and a 
repeal of the prohibition to the importation of French 
gloves. With respect to the former cause, an entirely 
new branch of manufacture has sprung up, chiefly in 
Nottingham and Leicester, where vast quantities of 
cotton-gloves are now made. As to the second cause, 
the same complaints have been made as in most other 
instances of tne repeal of prohibition ; the ruin of the 
home-trade has been foretold and the most gloomy 
thoughts entertained by many engaged in the leather- 
glove manufacture. There is, however, in Mr. MCnl- 
loch's * Commercial Dictionary,' a paragraph on this 
subject so important, that, though rather long, we will 
quote it entire : — *• The importation of leather- gloves 
and mitts was formerly prohibited under the severest 
penalties. This prohibition had the effect, by prevent- 
ing all competition and emulation with the foreigner, 
to check improvement, and to render British gloves at 
once inferior in quality and high in price. This sys- 
tem was, however, permitted to continue till 1825, 
when the prohibition was repealed, and gloves allowed 
to be imported on payment of duties which, though 
high, are not prohibitory. This measure was vehe- 
meutly opposed, and many predictions were made of 
the total ruin of the manufacture. But in this, as in 
every similar instance, experience has shown that the 
trade had not been really benefited, but that, on the 
contrary, it had been injured by the prohibition. The 
wholesome competition to which the manufacturers 
now felt themselves, for the first time, exposed, made 
them exert all their energies ; and it is admitted on all 
hands that there has been a more rapid improvement 
in the manufacture during the last half-dozen years 
than in the previous half-century. There is still, no 
doubt, a great deal of complaining of a decay of trade 
among the leather-glove manufacturers; but we are 
assured that if there be any real foundation for their 
complaints, it is ascribable far more to the growing 
use of home-made cotton-gloves than to the importa- 
tion of foreign gloves; and had it not been for the 
improved fabric and greater cheapness of British 
leather-gloves that has grown out of tne new system, it 
is abundantly certain that cotton-gloves would have 
gained still more rapidly on them. In point of fact, 
however, it does not appear that there has been any 
falling off in the leather-glove trade. On the contrary, 
the fair inference seems to be that it has materially 
increased ; at all events there has been a very consi- 
derable increase in the number of skins brought from 
abroad to be used in the manufacture, and conse- 

?[uently in the number of pairs of gloves produced 
rom such skins; and there is no reason for thinking 
that it is at all different with the other departments." 
This was written about five or six years after the 
admission of foreign gloves was permitted. 



ESSAYS ON THE LIVES OF REMARKABLE 
PAINTERS.— No. IV. 

Giotto. 

[Cuoclnded from pag« 91.] 

By the time Giotto had attained his thirtieth year, 
he had reached such hitherto unknown excellence in 
art, and his celebrity was so universal, that every city 
and every petty sovereign in Italy contended for the 
honour of his presence and his pencil, and tempted 
him with the promise of rich rewards. For the lords 



of Arezzo, of Rimini, and Ravenna, and for the Duke 
of Milan, he executed many works, now almost wholly 

Eerished. Castruccio Castricani, the warlike tyrant of 
ucca, also employed him; but how Giotto was in- 
duced to listen to tne offers of this enemy of his country 
is not explained. Perhaps Castruccio, as the head of 
the Ghibelline party, in which Giotto had apparently 
enrolled himself, appeared in the light of a friend 
rather than an enemy : however this may be, a picture 
which Giotto painted for Castruccio, and in which he 
introduced the portrait of the tyrant, with a falcon on 
his fist, is still preserved in the Lyceum at ^ucca. 
For Guido da Polehte, the father of the hapless 
Francesco di Rimini, he painted the interior of a 
church ; and for Malatesta di Rimini he painted the 
portrait of that prince in a bark, with his companions 
and a company of mariners ; and among them, Vasari 
tells us, was the figure of a sailor, who, turning 
round with his hand before his face, is in the act 
of spitting in the sea, so life-like as to strike the 
beholders with amazement ; this has perished : but the 
figure of the thirsty man stooping to drink, in one of 
the frescoes at Assisi, still remains, to show the kind of 
excellence through which Giotto excited such admira- 
tion in his contemporaries — a power of imitation, a 
truth in the expression of natural actions and feelings, 
to which painting had never yet ascended or de- 
scended. This leaning to the actual and the real has 
been made a subject of reproach, to which we shall 
hereafter refer. 

It is said, but this does not rest on very satisfactory 
evidence, that Giotto also visited Avignon, in the train 
of Pope Clement V.,and painted there the portraits of 
Petrarch and Laura. 

About the year 1327 King Robert of Naples, the 
father of Queen Joanna, wrote to his son the Duke of 
Calabria, then at Florence, to send to him, on any 
terms, the famous painter Giotto, who accordingly tra- 
velled to the court of Naples, stopping on his way in 
several cities, where he left specimens of his skill. 
He also visited Orvieto for the purpose of viewing the 
sculpture with which the brothers Agoslino and 
Agnolo were decorating the cathedral, and not only 
bestowed on it high commendation, but obtained fur 
the artists the praise and patronage they merited. 
There is at Gaeta a Crucifixion painted by Giotto, either 
on his way to Naples or on his return, in which he in- 
troduced himself kneeling in an attitude of deep de- 
votion and contrition at tne foot of the cross : this in- 
troduction of portraiture into a subject so awful was 
another innovation, not so praiseworthy as some of his 
alterations. Giotto's feeling for truth and propriety 
of expression is particularly remarkable and commend- 
able in the alteration of the dreadful, but popular sub- 
ject of the crucifix : in the Byzantine school, the sole 
aim seems to have been to represent physical agony, 
and to render it, by every species of distortion and ex- 
aggeration, as terrible and repulsive as possible. Giotto 
was the first to soften this awful and painful figure by 
an expression of divine resignation and by greater at- 
tention to beauty of form. A Crucifixion painted 
by him became the model for his scholars, and was 
multiplied by imitation through all Italy; so that a 
famous painter of crucifixes after the Greek fashion, 
Margantone, who had been a friend and contemporary 
of Cimabue, confounded by the introduction of this new 
method of art, which he partly disdained and partly 
despaired to imitate, and old enough to hate innovations 
of all kinds, took to his bed " vtfastidito'* (through vexa- 
tion), and so died. 

But to return to Giotto, whom we left on the 
road to Naples. Ring Robert received him with 
great honour and rejoicing, and being a monarch of 



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[March 18 



singular accomplishments, and fond of the society of 
learned and distinguished men, he soon found that 
Giotto was not merely a painter, but a man of the 
world, a man of various acquirements, whose general 
reputation for wit and vivacity was not unmerited. 
He would sometimes visit the painter at his work, and, 
while watching the rapid progress of his pencil, aroused 
himself with the quaint good sense of his discourse. 
" If I were you, Giotto," said the king to him one very 
hot day, " 1 would leave off work, and rest myself y* 
44 And so would I, sire," replied the painter, " if I were 
you r The king in a playful mood desired him to 
paint his kingdom, on which Giotto immediately 
sketched the figure of an ass with a heavy pack -saddle 
on his back, smelling with an eager air at another 
pack-saddle lying on the ground, on which were a 
crown or sceptre. By this emblem the satirical pain- 
ter expressed the servility and the fickleness of the 
Neapolitans, and the king at once understood the allu- 
sion. 

While at Naples Giotto painted in the church of the 
Ineoronati a series of frescoes representing the Seven 
Sacraments according to the Roman ritual. These 
still exist, and are amongst the most authentic and 
best preserved of his works. The Sacrament of 
Marriage contains many female figures, beautifully 
designed and grouped, with graceful lieads and flowing 
draperies. This picture is traditionally said to repre- 
sent the marriage of Joanna of Naples and Louis of 
Taranto : but Giotto died in 1 336, and these famous es- 
pousals took place in 1347 : a dry date will sometimes 
ronfound a very pretty theory. In the Sacrament of 
Ordination there is a fjroup of chanting-boys, in 
which the various expressions of the act of singing arc 
given with that truth of imitation which made Giotto 
the wonder of his day. His paintings from the Apoca- 
lypse in the Church of Santa Chiara were whitewashed 
over, about two centuries ago, by a certain prior of the 
convent, because in the opinion of this barbarian they 
made the church look dark ! 

Giotto emitted Naples about the year 1328, and re- 
turned to his native city with great increase of riches 
and fame. He continued his works with unabated 
application, assisted by his pupils, for his school 
was now the most famous in Italy. Like most of 
the early Italian artists, he was an architect and 
sculptor, as well as a painter ; and his last public work 
was the famous Campanile or Bell-tower at Florence, 
founded in 1334, for which he made all the designs, and 
even executed with his own hand the models for the 
sculpture on the three lower divisions. According to 
Kugler, they form a regular series of subjects illustra- 
ting the development of human culture, through re- 
ligion and laws, "conceived," says the same authority, 
44 with profound wisdom." When the emperor Charles 
V. saw this elegant structure he exclaimed, that it 
ought to be " kept under glass." In the same alle- 
gorical taste Giotto painted many pictures of the Vir- 
tues and Vices, ingeniously invented and rendered wi h 
great attention to natural and appropriate expression. 
In these and similar representations we trace distinctly 
the influence of the genius of Dante. A short time 
before his death he was invited to Milan by Azzo Vis- 
conti. He executed some admirable frescoes In the an- 
cient palace of the dukes of Milan ; but these have 
perished. Finally, having returned to Florence, he 
soon afterwards died, — "yielding up his soul to God in 
the year 1336; and having been, says Vasari, " no less 
a good Christian than an excellent painter," was 
honourably interred in the church of Santa Maria del 
Fiore, where master his Cimabue had been laid with 
similar honours thirty-five years before. Lorenzo aV 
Medici afterwards placed above his tomb his effigy in 



marble, from which the portrait at the head of this 
essay has been taken. Giotto left four sons and four 
daughters, but we do not hear that any of his descen- 
dants became distinguished in art or otherwise. 

In the following number we shall consider the per- 
sonal character and influence of Giotto, both as a man 
and an artist, of which many amusing and interesting 
traits have been handed down to us.* 



^C^s 




TYantpareni Depth of the Sea oh the Newfoundland Coasf.— If y 
attention was caught by something moving on the bottom twelve 
or fifteen feet below me, and I toon found it to be covered with 
lobsters. One or two of these, by means of a pointed stick, we 
managed to capture. The singular clearness of the water is 
most remarkable ; when the surface is still, the echini, shell- fish, 
and cretina clinging to the rocks, crabs and lobsters crawling on 
the bottom, fish, medusa, and myriads of sea-creatures floating 
in its depths, were' as in air itself. . . . . In the passage 
between Trinity Island, or Lewis's Island, and the Frying-pan, 
the bottom of the sea consisted of huge peaks and mounds of 
white granite, rising from dark and deep hollows. The extreme 
clearness of the water rendered these cliffs and peaks all visible 
as we approached them, though none reached to within three or 
four fathoms of the surface ; and the sensation experienced in 
sailing over them was most singular, aud to me very uncomfort- 
able. I could not look over the boat without extreme giddiness, 
as if suspended on some aerial height leaning over a tremendous 
gulf. The same sensation was described to me by a gentleman 
I afterwards met with, an experienced hunter and sailor, as 
assailing him upon his once in smooth water taking a boat within 
the space of some sunken rocks off the Wad bam Islands, on 
which the water broke in bad weather. These rocks he described 
as three peaks arising from an apparently unfathomable depth 
and the sensatTou, as his boat gently rose and fell between tbexn, 
was so unpleasant, aud indeed awful, that he gladly got away aa 
fast as he could.--JuA*f '* Excurtwns. 

* In the foregoing sketch some disputed points in the life of 
Giotto are for obvious reasons left at rest, and the order of 
events has been somewhat changed, in accordance with mora 
exact chroniclers than Vasari. 



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churchyard, as a citizen does upon the 'change, the 
whole parish politics being generally discussed in that 
place either alter sermon or before the bell rings. 

" My friend Sir Rojger, being a good churchman, 
has beautified the inside of his church with several 
texts of his own choosing. He has likewise given a 
handsome pulpit-cloth, and railed in the communion- 
table at his own expense. He has often told me, that 
at his coming to his estate he found his parishioners 
very irregular : and that in order to make them kneel, 
and join in the responses, he gave every one of tbem a 
hassock and a Common Prayer-book ; and at the same 
time employed an itinerant singing-master, who goes 
about the country for that purpose, to instruct them 
rightly in the tunes of the Psalms, upon which they 
now very much value themselves, and indeed outdo 
most of the country churches that I have ever heard. 

•' As Sir Roger is landlord to the whole congrega- 
tion, he keeps them in very good order, and will suffer 
nobody to sleep in it besides himself ; for if by chance 
he has been surprised into a short nap at sermon, upon 
recovering out of it he stands up and looks about him, 
and if he sees anybody else nodding, either wakes 
them himself, or sends liis servants to them. Several 
other of the old knight's particularities break out upon 
these occasions. Sometimes he will be lengthening 
out a verse in the singing Psalms, half a minute after 
the rest of the congregation have done with it ; some- 
times when he is pleased with the matter of his de- 
votion, he pronounces Amen three or four times in the 
same prayer ; and sometimes stands up when every- 
body else is upon their knees, to count the congrega- 
tion, or see if any of his tenants are missing. 

" I was yesterday very much surprised to hear my 
old friend, in the midst of the service, calling out to 
one John Matthews to mind what he was about, and 
not disturb the congregation. This John Matthews it 
sceins is remarkable for being an idle fellow, and at 
that time was kicking his heels for his diversion. This 
authority of the knight, though exerted in that odd 
manner which accompanies him in all the circum- 
stances of life, has a very good effect upon the parish, 
who are not polite enough to see anything ridiculous 
in his behaviour ; besides that the general good sense 
and worthiness of his character make his friends ob- 
serve these little singularities as foils that rather set off 
than blemish his good qualities. 

" As soon as the sermon is finished, nobody presumes 
to stir till Sir Roger is gone out of the church. The 
knight walks down from his seat in the chancel be- 
tween a double row of his tenants, that stand bowing 
to him on each side ; and every now and then inquires 
how such a one's wife, or mother, or son, or father do, 
whom he does not see at church ; which is understood 
as a secret reprimand to the person that is absent 

(< The chaplain has often told me, that upon a catechis- 
ing day, when Sir Roger has been pleased with a boy 
that answers well, he has ordered a Bible to be given 
to him next day for his encouragement, and sometimes 
accompanies it with a flitch of bacon to his mother. 
Sir Roger has likewise added five pounds a year to the 
clerk's place ; and, that he may encourage the young 
fellows to make themselves perfect in the church ser- 
vice, has promised upon the death of the present in- 
cumbent, who is very old, to bestow it according to 
merit .. 

" The fair understanding between Sir Roger and his 
chaplain, and their mutual concurrence in doing good, 
is the more remarkable, because the very next village 
is famous for the differences and contentions that arise 
between the parson and the 'squire, who live in a per- 
petual state of war. The parson is always preaching 
at the 'squire, and the 'sou ire, to be revenged on the 
parson* never comes to church. The 'squire has made 



all his tenants atheists and tithe-etealers, while the 
parson instructs them every Sunday in the dignity of 
his order, and insinuates to them, in almost every ser- 
mon, that he is a better man than his patron. In 
short, matters are come to such an extremity, that the 
'squire has not said his prayers either in public or 
private this half-year ; and the parson threatens him, 
if he does not mend his manners, to pray for him in 
the face of the whole congregation. 

" Feuds of this nature, though too frequent in the 
country, are very fatal to the ordinary people ; who 
are so used to be dazzled with riches, that they pay as 
much deference to the understanding of a man of an 
estate as of a man of learning*; and are very hardly 
brought to regard any truth, now important soever ft 
may be, that is preached to them, when they know 
there are several men of five hundred a-year who do 
not believe it." 

The ouiet humour of this pleasant description tar- 
nishes in itself a tolerable example of the state of 
opinion in the reign of Queen Anne— our Augustan 
age, as it has often been called. It shows the cold and 
worldly aspect which the most solemn institutions 
presented to the eye of the conventional moralist 
There is something much higher in the association of 
Christians in public worship than even the good -of 
meeting together with "best faces and cleanliest 
habits." Sunday is to be observed for something 
better than " clearing away the rust of the week," and 
"putting both sexes upon appearing in their most 
agreeable forms." But for too long a period this has 
been very much the orthodox notion of Sunday and 
Sunday duties ; and the real purpose of public wor- 
ship, that of calling forth the spiritual and unworldly 
tendencies of our nature, to the exclusion of the salta- 
tion and vanity of every-day life, is only beginning yet 
to be generally felt in town or village. We- lost for 
two or three centuries the zealous spirit which made 
the cathedral and the church a refuge from the hard 
and irritating cares which belong to a life of struggle 
and vexation ; which there lifted us up to a cahn and 
earnest reliance on the protection of the great Father 
of all ; which made all men equal in their capacity for 
partaking of this elevation of spirit ; which for a while 
excluded the distinctions that belong to transitory 
things alone. The solemn responses, the soul-littering 
chants, the assembling together in temples venerable 
for their antiquity and impressive in their beauty, gave 
a loftier tone to the mind of the most uninformed Chan 
belongs to the discussion of parish politics " after ser- 
mon or before the bell rings. A reform of somewhat 
too sweeping character changed the feelings of the 
people. Religion came either to be looked at as a 
severe thing or as a formal thing ; and then followed 
what Addison has painted too truly in the conclusion 
of his paper, " the differences and contentions between 
the parson and the 'squire." In this respect we may 
earnestly hope that the description of the Essayist is 
wholly obsolete. 

PROGRESSES OF QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
No. III. i 

THS QUBKN AT CAMBRIDGE. 

Iif 1563 there appears to have been no progress. Loo- 
don was suffering through a dearth, a scarcity *f 
money, and from the prevalence of the pcstilfocp, 
which had been introduced by the troops who hadJMzen 
unsuccessfully defending H&vre under the EarLof 
Warwick. Of this disorder more than 20,90* of &e 
citizens died ; and, according to Holinahed, Mm QN£&i 
ordered that " the new mayor elected should keep no 
feast at Guildhall, for doubt that through bringing toge* 
ther such a multitude the infection might fc*c/qate»r 



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In 1564, on tie 27th of July, the Queen waa Again 
on her Progresses, and was at the Lord Treasurer 
Cecil's house at Theobalds, afterwards at her own 
house at Enfield, and on the 5th of August she reached 
Cambridge, where extensive preparations had been 
made Corner reception. The students had been directed 
to " put themselves in all readiness to pleasure her 
Majesty, and to welcome her with all manner of scho- 
lar tical exercises, viz., with sermons, both in English 
and Latin ; , disputations in all kinds of faculties, and 
playing of comedies and tragedies, orations and verses, 

both in Latin and Greek, to be made and set up 

in the way that her Majesty should go or ride : " pro- 
vision of beer, ale. and wine was sent to the King's 
College," where she was to lodge ; and " the Vice- 
Chancellor and the Mayor took order for the well- 
paving of all the town, and that every inhabitant should 
provide sufficient sand to cover the streets at the 
coming of the Queen's Majesty." 
1 Sir William Cecil, who was Chancellor of the Uni- 
versity, and Lord Robert Dudley (afterwards Earl of 
Leicester), the Lord High Steward, with a numerous 
train, arrived on the previous day. to her Majesty, to 
assist in the preparations; they were received with 
much ceremony, and to each of them was presented, 
as also to the Duke t>f Norfolk, the steward of- the 
.town, "two pair of gloves, a march-pain,* and two 
sugar-loaves ;" while the Earl of Suffolk and the rest 
of the nobility had gloves, but no march-pain or sugar- 
toaves." 

On the 5th the whole University met the Queen at 
the corner of the Queen's College and Martin Gill's 
house, ♦« the whole lane between the Kind's College 
and the Queen's College was strewed with rushes, 
and flags hanging in divers places, with coverlets, and 
boughs, and many verses fixed upon the wall," the 
•scholars crying, as commanded, " Vivat Regina," 
lowty kneeling. The corporation of the town had met 
:her Majesty a little above Newnham, and delivered to 
her the mace, with " a fair standing cup. which cost 19/., 
and twenty old angels in it," which she received, re- 
turning the mace to the mayor, and giving the cup 
wiih the angels to her footman. She was on horseback, 
dressed u in a gown of black velvet pinked; a caul 
upon her head, set with pearls and precious stones ; 
a hat that was spangled with gold, and a bush of 
feathers/' The orator of the University then made his 
speech in Latin. •• First he praised and commended 
many singular virtues set and planted in her Majesty, 
which her Highness not acknowledging of, she shaked 
her head, bit her lips and her fingers; and sometimes 
broke forth into passion, and these words : * Non est 
Veritas, et utinam ;'" but on his praising virginity, she 
replied, " God's blessing of thine heart, there con- 
tinue." At the conclusion, she commended the speech, 
adding, "That she would answer him again in Latin, 
but for fear she should speak false Latin, and then they 
would laugh at her.'' She then dismounted, and was 
conducted under a canopy into King's College Chapel, 
where prayers were said, but the Queen declining to 
join in the service, prayed privately ; she greatly praised 
the beauty of the chapel as " above all other within her 
reahn."t On her leaving the chapel for her lodgings 
in King's College, there were presented to her, in the 
name of the University, "four pair of Cambridge 
'double gloves, edged and trimmed with two laces of 
Une gold, and six boxes of fine comfits and other con- 
ncerts." On the following day, which was Sunday, the 
Queen attended service m the chapel in the morning, 
praising the Latin sermon as the first she had ever 
Heard in that tongue, and never hoped to hear a better. 
r ' r[ *- A tort at confection or fweetmeat, made of alra#ndi, augar, 
in)rf other ingredients. 

t Tor a view of the chapel, see Ko. 993. 



From hence she was conducted back under a canopy 
borne by four doctors, " which the footmen as tneir 
fee claimed, and it was redeemed for 3/. 6*. 8rf." On 
this day the chancellor and vice-chancellor entertained 
tlie University at dinner, to which the Queen sent five 
bucks. She attended even-song, " which ended, she 
departed back by the same way to the play • Aulularia 
Plauti ;' for the hearing and playing whereof was 
made by her Highness' surveyor, and at her own cost, 
in the body of the King's College Church, a great 
stage, containing the breadth of the church from the 
one side to the other, that the chapels might serve for 
houses. In the length it ran two of the lower chapels 
full, with the pillars on a side." Her Majesty sat on 
the south side under a cloth of state, the rood-loft was 
made into a stage for ladies and gentlemen to stand in, 
and the tables beneath it were " enlarged and railed 
in for the choice officers of the court. A multitude of 
the guard stood upon the ground by the stage-side, 
having every man in his hand a torch-staff for the 
lights of the play (for no other lights were occupied) ; 
and would not suffer any to stand upon the stage, save 
a very few upon the north side." With this curious 
account of the formation and location of the stage, we 
have little or nothing of the play. " The Queen took 
her seat, and heard the play fully," is all that is told 
us, and that about twelve o'clock she departed to her 



On the Monday she attended disputations in philo- 
sophy and physic in St. Mary's Church, where a great 
stage was provided for the purpose, from one o'clock 
in the afternoon till seven, declaring herself well en- 
tertained, but detecting faults in the dresses of some 
of the dignitaries, and noting that some Masters were 
M but Masters, because their habits and hoods were 
torn and too much soiled/' At nine she attended 
the performance of * Dido,' a tragedy, " in hexamctic 
verse," in King's College Chapel. 

On Tuesday there was nothing public, the Queen 
holding a privy council in the south vestry ; but in the 
evening she again visited the theatre in King's College 
Chapel to witness the performance of a play m English 
called * Ezekias.' This play was the production of Dr. 
Nicholas Udall, Master of Eton College, the author of 
• Ralph Royster Doyster,' the earliest existing English 
comedy. 

On Wednesday, at six in the morning, M riding in state 
royali, all the lords and gentlemen riding before her 
Grace, and all the ladies following on horseback," the 
Queen visited Clare Hall, King's College, Trinity 
Hall, Gonvill and Caius, Trinity, St. John's, Christ's, 
and Benet Colleges, Pembroke Hall, Peter House, 
Queen's College, and Katherine Hall, being ad- 
dressed at most ot them with an oration ; those at 
Trinity and Christ's College being in Greek, to 
the latter of which she replied in the same lan- 
guage; talking much with students in Latin during 
her progress, and dismissing them on her return in 
that language. At three she attended the disputations 
in divinity, which were stayed at seven o'clock, before 
they were ended ;" and •* the night coming on, clean 
took away the disputation of the lawyers." At the 
end, the lords, especially the Duke or Norfolk, the 
Steward of the Town, and Lord Robert Dudley, the 
High Steward of the University, "kneeling down, 
humbly desired her Majesty to speak something to the 
University, and in Latin : this, after some affected re- 
luctance, she did at considerable length, and of which 
we give the translation of the following complimentary 
conclusion : — " But now you see the difference between 
true learning and an education not well retained. Of 
the one of which you yourselves are all more than suf- 
ficient evidence ; and of the other, I, too inconsiderately 
indeed, have made vou all witnesses. It is time then 

P2 



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that your ears, which hare been to Ions detained by 
this barbarous sort of an oration, should now be re- 
leased from the pain of it." But the auditors were 
all " marvellously astonied," and burst forth in open 
voice " Vivat Regina !" " And so her Majesty cheer- 
fully departed to her lodging ;" declining to be present 
at the performance of the • Ajax Flagellifer' of Sopho- 
cles, being fatigued with visiting the colleges, attending 
the disputations, " and over- watched with former plays, 
as it was very late nightly before she came to them, as 
also departed from them ; and beside intending to leave 
Cambridge early in the morning." 

There appears to be little at all worthy of remark in 
the reception of the Queen at Cambridge. A book 
was prepared for her Majesty, previous to her coming, 
*' containing all their verses, both of Greek and Latin, 
Hebrew, Chaldee, and English, bound in a parchment 
covering, gilt with flowers of gold at the four corners, 
knit with green ribband string ;" but nothing of them 
has been preserved. Of the members of the University, 
the only one who appears to have been distinguished 
by her Majesty, was Thomas Preston, " who acted so 
admirably well in the tragedy of • Dido,' and did so 
gracefully dispute before her, that she gave him 20/. 
per annum for his so doing." A most notable instance 
of liberality in the Queen, who was generally sparing 
in such rewards. Preston's antagonist in these dispu- 
tations was Thomas Cartwright ; and Fuller, in his 
• History of Cambridge/ remarks, " Cartwright had 
dealt most with the Muses ; Preston with the Graces. 
Cartwright disputed like a great, Preston like a gentle, 
scholar. Ana the Queen, upon parity of defects, 



always preferred properness of person." Preston, who 
with her host Dr. Baker, the Provost of Kings Col- 
lege, and others, met her at nine o'clock on Thursday 
morning on her departure, made a farewell oration, 
with which she was so well pleased, that she gave him 
her hand to kiss, and " openly called him her scholar." 

She proceeded from Cambridge to the Bishop of 
Ely's at Stanton, and from thence to Sir Henry Crom- 
well's at Hinchinbrooke Priory. 

In 1565 she visited the newly-made Earl of Leicester 
at Kenilworth, passing through Coventry, where the 
corporation received her magnificently, the recorder, 
John Throgmorton, whom she knighted, making her a 
complimentary oration, and presented her in the name 
of the town with a purse, "supposed to be worth twenty 
marks, and in it about 100/. in gold angels, which her 
Grace accepting, was pleased to say to her lords, it 
was a good gift, 100/. in gold ; 4 1 have but few such 
gifts.' To which the mayor answered boldly, • If it 
please your Grace, there is a great deal more in it.* 
* What is that V said she. • It is/ said he, • the hearts of 
all your loving subjects.' •We thank you, Mr. Mayor/ 
said she : • it is a great deal more indeed.' "' It was in a 
great measure by this happy public affability that 
Elizabeth acquired and retained to such an extent as 
she did the personal affections of her people. 

The visits to Kenilworth were repeated in 1568 and 
1575. The last was distinguished by its unbounded 
magnificence, but as Kenilworth has been already de- 
scribed in Is/os. 59, 213, and G64, where we have given 
views of the past and present state of the castle, we 
shall not have occasion to go over the ground again. 



[Koo-choo-foo.} 



FOO-CHOO-FOO. 

Ning-po, of which we have given an account in No. 
$39, is the next of the free ports south of Shang-hae : 
to this succeeds Foo-choo-foo, the capital and principal 
port of the province of Fo-kien, where chiefly the 



black tea is produced which is imported into this 
country, and a considerable quantity of tobacco is also 
grown. 

Foo-chGo-foo lies on the north-east coast, in the Fo- 
kien Channel, in about 26° N. lat. and 119° E. long., 
on the banks of the Min-ho, which empties itself into 



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the Bay of Ho-sien, and about thirty miles from the 
river's mouth called Woo-foo-min. Fort Minga, which 
defends the passage of the Min, is situated about 
twelve miles from the river's mouth, and is the only 
servicable fortress, although numerous others in a dis- 
mantled state dot the banks on each side in going up, 
and add to its picturesque beauty. The war-junks go 
no higher than Mingan. 

On leaving Mingan the channel narrows to much 
less than half a mile broad, and, a few miles higher 
up, divides into two branches, the northern one of 
which leads to the city : the banks of the river are 
dotted with the richest verdure, and in some places the 
bold appearance of the mountains, rising abruptly to 
a height of several thousand feet, is very remarkable : 
they are cultivated to the very ridges with grain, rice, 
and paddy, adding to the beauty of the scenery, which 
is further heightened by bold bluff points jutting ab- 
ruptly into the river. 

On reaching one of these points, which terminates 
the circuitous and serpentine direction of the branch 
of the river from Fort Minga, the town of Foo-choo-foo 
breaks upon the view in ail its splendour, the bridge 
of thirty-six arches (and not thirty-three, as erroneously 
stated by some) stretching across the river, the banks 
on both sides dotted here and there with picturesque 
pagodas and the country-seats of the mandarins of rank, 
and luxuriating in all the richness of tropical vegeta- 
tion ; the stately palm-tree, cocoa and betel-nut, com- 
bined with the plantain and banana, being seen here 
in all their native beauty. The effect is greatly height- 
ened by the numerous and various kinds of picturesque 
boats which dot the river, from the humble sampan 
to the unwieldy junk ; whilst close to the town ap- 
pears a forest of masts belonging to different coasting 
craft : the river above bridge winds away into serpen- 
tine obscurity, and the background is terminated by 
lofty mountains fading away into the blue distance. 

The town is built on both sides the river, and con- 
sists of the usual low houses of Chinese architecture 
and narrow streets, which, however, are necessary to 
guard against the powerful rays of the sun. 

The bridge, which is built on diamond-shaped piles 
of granite, is a clumsy-looking affair upon close in- 
spection, although at a distance it assumes so pictu- 
resque an appearance : its length is about four hundred 
yards, and breadth twelve to thirteen : there were for- 
merly temporary shops constructed upon it, but they 
are now nearly all removed. 

The anchorage at Foo-choo-foo is good, and of course, 
from its inland situation, perfectly secure : there is 
always from four to five fathoms water, the current is 
very rapid, the flood- tide scarcely perceptible. 

The inhabitants appear courteous and mild Jin their 
manners, but intercourse with them was checked by 
the interference of the mandarins: they appeared a 
much superior race of people from those we met at 
Canton, and, as at Amoy, are hardy and industrious. 

A great trade is carried on with the neighbouring 

Province of Che-kiang in wood, timber, and tobacco ; 
ut a number of junks from Foo-choo-foo find their 
way to Manilla, Singapore, and other islands in the 
Eastern Archipelago, touching generally in the first 
instance at Amoy, from whence the best sea-going 
Fokien sailors are selected to man the sea-junks. 
Dried fruits, amongst others the lee-chee, are likewise 
largely exported. 

The importance of Foo-choo-foo to British enterprise 
must be extremely great, as vessels of a large burthen 
can lay within seven or eight miles of the city, whence 
the tea can be loaded at once from the large chop-boats 
of the country, which, by means of the Mm and its 
branches, have an easy water-communication with the 
tea-farms of the interior. Mr. Davis, in his * Sketches 



of China,' observes in relation to its commercial im- 
portance : — " By the restrictions which have confined 
the tea-trade to Canton we have been obliged to pay 
for the transport of the black teas over an immense 
distance, in wnich lofty mountains are to be crossed, 
and shallow rivers navigated with great difficulty, in- 
volving the additional charge of about 25*. in every 
pecul weight (133 lbs.), or about 200,000/. on the annual 
Supply. Mr. Ball, formerly inspector of teas to the 
Company at Canton, first drew attention to this subject 
many years ago, and his calculations seem to have been 
verified since. Should we, therefore, ever be in a situ- 
ation to choose the most advantageous position for the 
tea-trade, there seems to be no doubt of Foo-choo-foo 
being the port selected. But it is not on account of 
teas only that the city in question has been singled out 
as the most favourable for the British trade : some 
calculations and estimates exist to show that for our 
woollen and other manufactures Foo-choo-foo must 
be infinitely superior to Canton, as being much nearer 
to the places of consumption. In this single view of 
the question, however, and apart from the main article 
of teas, it is most probable that Shang-hae is superior 
to Foo-choo-foo." 

The climate of Foo-choo-foo is on the whole healthy, 
and would be more so but for the filthy state of the 
streets in the city and suburbs, where offal of all kinds 
is thrown indiscriminately about, producing an odour 
very offensive to the senses. The mountains in the 
vicinity likewise tend to its salubrity by rarefying the 
air : in winter the cold is felt severely ; as is also the 
heat in summer, when the exhalations from the rice 
and paddy grounds produce frequent cases of fever 
and ague. 

ECONOMICAL USES OF THE BIRCH-TREE. 

[Continued from page 92.] 

In the last article on this subject we stated that the sap 
or juice of the birch is, like almost every other part, 
applied to useful porposes. This sap is made into 
beer, wine, and vinegar, besides yielding sugar and 
spirit. The Russians use the syrup of the sap, without 
crystallization, as a substitute for sugar. During the 
siege of Hamburg by the Russians m 1814, almost all 
the birch-trees in the neighbourhood were destroyed 
by some of the semi-barbarous soldiers of the Russian 
army, for the sake of the sap. Sugar maybe procured 
from the sap by boiling and evaporation. Beer is pro- 
duced by fermenting the sap with yest, hot water, 
and hops, in the manner of English brewing. 

Wine is made from the birch-sap in the following 
manner : — The sap is first obtained by boring a shallow 
hole in each tree, near the ground, and on the south 
side of the trunk ; each tree being, in some countries, 
bored with several holes, instead of one. Each hole 
has a kind of fosset fixed to it, formed either of a large 
quill or of a piece of elder-wood deprived of its pith, 
the outer end of the tube or fosset being placed in a 
vessel or large bladder to receive the sap. In some 
places the collectors of the sap cut off the extremity 
of each branch, tying a vessel or bladder to the end of 
the wounded part. When a sufficient quantity of 
sap has been collected, the hole in the tree is stopped 
with a wooden peg, or the end of the wounded branch 
is covered with pitch. This operation is always per- 
formed in spring, and most sap is said to be procured 
after a very severe winter. As the sap soon spoils by 
being kept, several trees are opened at the same time, 
in order to collect a sufficient quantity at once, which 
is effected usually about the hour of noon. When the 
wine is to be made, the sap is boiled with moist sugar 
or honey, in the proportion of four pounds of sugar to 
a gallon of sap. While boiling, the scum is taken off 



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as fast as it rises, till the liquor is quite clear. It is 
then worked with yest in the usual way. The juice 
and rind of a lemon and of a Seville orange added to 
every gallon of clear liquor greatly improves the 
flavour. Twigs of sweet-brier are sometimes put into 
the cask when the wine is tunned, to give it a fra- 
grance, an object which used in former times to be 
effected by using cinnamon and other spices. Wine 
made in this way, being kept three months before 
bottling, and twelve months before being used, is both 
agreeable and wholesome, and effervesces something 
like champagne. 

A useful oil is also obtained from the birch-tree by a 
kind of distillation effected in the following manner : — 
An excavation is first made in the ground ten or twelve 
feet deep, and in the form of an inverted cone, lined 
on the inside with clay. Birch-bark (from which the 
product is obtained) being collected and placed in 
this rude kind of kiln, is covered with turf and then 
ignited. During the smothered combustion of the 
bark, oil exudes from it, and passes through a hole 
made in the bottom of the kiln, into a vessel placed to 
receive it, from which it is transferred to casks for 
exportation. The liquor produced consists of oil and 
pyroligneous acid, and is used for tanning hides, to 
which it gives the peculiar odour recognised in 
' Russia leather.* The oil when purified is quite 
clear, and is used in medicine, both internally and 
externally ; and the pyroligneous tar-like liquid which 
is separated from it is used for many of the same pur- 
poses as tar. 

AH the details hitherto given relate to the common 
or white birch, incontestably the most valuable of all 
the species. The species called in England the paper 
birch, in Paris the black birch, and in America the 
canoe birch, is a valuable American tree, whose cha- 
racteristic value is expressed by the last of these three 
appellations, since its bark is extensively employed in 
the construction of canoes. The canoe birch flourishes 

Erinci pally in the forests of Lower Canada, New 
irunswick, and the northern portion of the United 
States. It attains its largest size in the declivity of 
hills and in the bottom of fertile valleys; being under 
such circumstances frequently found with a height of 
seventy or eighty feet and a diameter of three feet. Its 
branches are slender, flexible, and covered with a 
shining brown bark, dotted with white. 

The heart or perfect wood of this tree, when first laid 
open, is of a reddish hue, and the sap is perfectly 
white. The wood has a fine glossy grain, with a con- 
siderable share of strength. In the district of Maine 
tables are frequently made of it, and stained in imita- 
tion of mahogany. A section of the trunk of this tree, 
a foot or two in length, immediately below the first 
ramification, often exhibits very elegant undulations 
of the fibre, resembling bunches of feathers or sheaves 
of corn : such pieces arc divided into thin veneers for 
inlaying mahogany; aud in Boston and the towns 
situated farther north, they are generally employed by 
cabinet-makers to embellish their work. The wood 
affords excellent fuel, and is exported in great quan- 
tities from Maine to Boston. 

The bark of the canoe birch, in trees not exceeding 
eight inches in diameter, is of a brilliant white, and is 
almost indestructible. Trees long since prostrated by 
time or storms are often met with in the forests, whose 
trunks appear sound externally, while the bark con- 
tains only a friable substance like vegetable mould. 
In Canada and the Northern United States the country- 
people place large pieces of the bark immediately 
below the shingles of the roofs of houses, to form a 
more impenetrable covering. Baskets, boxes, and 
portfolios are made of it, sometimes embroidered with 
silk of different colours. Divided into very thin sheets, 



it forma a substitute for paper ; and, placed between 
the soles of the shoes and in the crown of the hat, it is 
a ' waterproof material, in the best sense of the tern; 

It is, however, in the construction of canoes that the 
bark of this species of birch is most valuably employed 
an application for which it is superior to every other 
kind of bark. To procure proper pieces, the largest 
and smoothest trunks are selected. In the spring o| 
the year two circular incisions are made, several feel 
apart, and two longitudinal ones on opposite sides of 
the tree ; after which, by introducing a wooden wedge* 
the bark is easily detached. These sheets or plates of 
bark are usually ten or twelve feet Ions, by two and * 
half or three feet in width. To form the canoe, these 
pieces are stitched together by means of fibrous roots 
of the white spruce, about the size of a quill, which 
are deprived of the bark, split, and softened in water* 
The seams are coated with resin. In such canoes as 
these the Canadian 'voyageurs* have been wont to 
ascend the Ottawa ana other rivers, on their fur- 
buying expeditions ; the canoes being so very light as 
to be easily carried each on the shoulders of one mas*. 
A canoe fitted to convey four passengers will onto weigh 
forty or fiftv pounds ; but some of them are calculated 
to contain fifteen persons. It was to such canoes as 
these that Sir Alexander Mackenzie alluded when; 
speaking of the equipment of a fleet of canoes at 
Montreal preparatory to a departure up the Ottawa to 
the Lakes, he said >- - " An European, on seeing one of 
these slender vessels thus laden, heaped up, and sunk 
with her gunwale within six inches of the water, would 
think his fate inevitable in such a boat, when he re- 
flected on the nature of the voyage ; but the Canadiansi 
are so expert, that few accidents happen. " 

In the Settlements of the Hudson's Bay Company* 
tents are made of the bark of the canoe birch, which 
for that purpose is cut into pieces twelve feet long by 
four feet wide. These are sewed together by threads 
made of the white-spruce rootlets; and so rapidly is s 
tent put up, that a circular one, twenty feet in diame- 
ter by ten feet high, requires not above half an hour in 
pitching. These are called ' rind-ten ts/ and their 
utility is acknowledged by all travellers and hunters 
in those regions. They are used throughout the year ; 
but during the hot months of June, July, and August 
they are found particularly accetpable. 

There are other species of birch more or less valur* 
able in the arts. The Tall birch, an American species; 
is a beautiful tree, often rising to a height of seventy 
or eighty feet, and having the trunk uniform, straight, 
and destitute of leaves for a height of thirty or forty 
feet. It is particularly remarkable for the colour and 
arrangement of its epidermis, which is of a brilliant 
golden yellow, and frequently divides itself into very 
fine strips, rolled backwards at the ends and attached 
in the middle. The leaves, the bark, and the youns? 
shoots have all an agreeable taste and smell. It 
abounds in the forests of New Brunswick, Nova 
Scotia, and Maine ; and is met with more sparingly 
in New Jersey and Pennsylvania, where it is found m 
moist and shady situations. The wood is net equal to 
that of some other kinds of birch, but is at the same 
time strong, and, when well polished, fitted to snake 
handsome furniture. In Nova Scotia, and in the dis* 
trict of Maine, it is found by experience to be every 
way proper for that part of the frame-work of vessels 
whicn always remains in the water. In Maine it is 
employed for the yokes of cattle and for the frames of 
sledges ; and in Nova Scotia the young saplings are 
almost exclusively employed for making the hoops of 
casks. Boards of this tree were formerly imported 
into Ireland and Scotland in large quantities, arid 
were much in use in joinery. The wood is excellent 
for fuel, and the bark is largely employed by tanners. 



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' The wood of the Pliant birch or Cherry Wrch is 
deemed better than that of any other American species. 
This tree, in favourable situations, exceeds seventy feet 
in height, with a diameter of nearly three feet. The 
outer bark, in old trees, detaches itself transversely at 
intervals, in hard plates or sheets six or eight inches 
broad ; but in trees with trunks not more than eight 
inches in diameter, the bark is smooth, greyish, and per- 
fectly similar in its colour and organization to that of 
ibe cberrv-tree : hence one of its names. In the neigh- 
bourhood of New York this is one of the first trees to 
renew its leaves ; these, during a fortnight after their 
appearance, are covered with a thick silvery down, 
Which afterwards disappears. When bruised the 
leaves diffuse a very sweet odour ; and as they retain 
this property when dry if carefully preserved, they 
make an agreeable substitute for tea, with the aid of 
milk and sugar. The wood, when freshly cut, is of a 
rosy fcue, which deepens by exposure to the light. Its 
grain is fine and close: it possesses a considerable 
degree of strength, and takes a brilliant polish. In 
Massachusetts, Connecticut, and New York the wood 
of this birch is next in esteem to that of the wild cherry. 
Tables, bedsteads, arm-chairs, sofas, coach-panels, 
shoe-lasts, and a great many other articles are made of 
it. Hunter, in his notes to Evelyn's ' Sylva,' says that 
the sap of this tree is used by the inhabitants of Kamts- 
chatka without previous fermentation; and that the 
natives strip off the bark when in a $reen state, cut it 
into lonj* narrow strips like vermicelli, and, after drying 
it, stew it with their caviare. 

The Dwarf birch, a native of Lapland, Sweden, 
Russia, Scotland, Canada, and all the colder regions of 
Europe and America, is a very useful tree to the Lap- 
landers. Its branches furnish them with their beds 
and their chief fuel ; its leaves yield a yellow dye, 
better than that obtained from the common birch ; its 
seeds afford nourishment to the ptarmigan, or white 
partridge, which supplies a considerable portion of the 
Laplanders* food, ana also forms an important article 
of commerce ; and, for their medicine, it produces a 
peculiar kind of fungus, from which the mora or 
amadou is prepared, and which the Laplanders consi- 
der an efficacious remedy in all painful diseases. 

The Black birch, like many others which we have 
noticed, is an American species, 'growing abundantly 
in Maryland, Virginia, Carolina, and Georgia. It 
glows, with the greatest luxuriance, on the sides of 
limpid streams which have a gravelly bed, and the 
banks of which are not marshy. The wood of this 
species is compact, and very nearly white; and the 
colour of the sap-wood and the heart- wood is very 
nearly the same. It is longitudinally marked by red 
veins, which intersect each other in different directions. 
The negroes make bowls and trays of it. The hoops 
for rice-casks are made of its youn$ shoots, and of 
branches not exceeding an inch in diameter ; and its 
sprav is much used for making brooms. 

We may terminate this brief notice by remarking 
that the use of the common birch-tree, in artificial 
plantations in Britain, is chiefly as coppice- wood ; it 
is cut, every five or b*ix years, for brooms, hoops, wat- 
tled-rods, crate-rods, &c. ; every ten or twelve years, 
for faggot-wood, poles, fencing, and bark for tanners, 
the value of which is about half that of oak-bark ; and 
every fifteen or twenty years, for herring-casks, &c. 

FLOATING AND FLYING BRIDGES. 

The military operations by which a body of troops is 
conveyed across a river supply the most instructive 
examples, of the steps from whence have resulted the 
masterly and substantial bridges of modern times. 
The expedients which an armv would adopt in a strange 



country are in some measure analogous to those which 
a rude nation would find most available, since the 
means at the disposal of both are very limited. 

A canoe or raft, urped across the stream by oars, is 
obviously the most primitive mode of transit, and calls 
for very little notice here, a paper on the «• Boats of 
Rude Nations " having been given in our last volume. 
But the operations of our military commanders have 
frequently brought to light the means of constructing 
boats at a few hours* notice, from materials found near 
the Btrcam itself. The Duke of Wellington (then 
Colonel Wellesley), in his Indian campaign of 1800, 
having occasion to cross a river which by floods had 
become too deep to be fordable, caused a number of 
basket-boats to be constructed, of materials easily pro- 
curable: the boats were soon made, the army crossed 
the stream, and the commander fully succeeded in his 
object. Such basket-boats are much used in India, 
and are made as follows: — a number of pieces of split 
bamboo are laid on the ground, crossing each other 
near their centres, and fastened together with thongs. 
The ends of the bamboos are then raised to a sufficient 
height, fixed by stakes at due distances from each 
other, and then bound together by slips of bamboo, in- 
troduced alternately over and under the ribs, beginning 
from the bottom and working upwards, till the skeleton 
is completed. The ends of the ribs, above the intended 
height or depth of the basket, are then cut off, and the 
stakes removed. The frame is next turned over, and 
covered with hides (those of the animals, for instance, 
which may have been killed for food), the hide being 
secured with leather thongs. Such basket-boats are 
frequently made in India with a length of fifteen feet 
and a breadth of three ; and such an one is capable of 
carrying thirty men, or a gun-carriage, or bullocks or 
horses, whose heads are fastened to the stern of the 
boat, and who are made to swim across. 

The general of an army is sometimes constrained to 
the adoption of extraordinary expedients in crossing a 
river, where no boats are to be found, and time and 
circumstances prevent him from making any. The 
roost simple of all bridges would be a plank reaching 
from one bank to the other ; but when the width of 
the stream renders this impossible, and several planks 
in length are necessary, the question arises how these 
planks are to be supported above the surface of the 
water. It is for the purpose of supplying these sup- 
ports that a regular army is provided with pontoons, 
which will be better understood if we speak first of 
more rude and simple arrangements. Sir Howard 
Douglas says, that when he was with the Peninsular 
army, he was prepared to adopt a plan of crossing 
rivers by forming a bridge in which the planks were 
supported by inflated shn bags, whose buoyancy kept 
up the superstructure. In Spain, bags made of animal 
skins are commonly used for containing wine ; and such 
bags, inflated with air, have been found to possess the 
requisite buoyancy. A light frame-work of planks is 
formed, and placed on a row of such bags, the sides 
of the frame descending at the edge to enclose the 
bags; and unless the latter become perforated by 
musket-shots, they still retain their buoyancy for a 
sufficient length of time to allow of a passage across 
the stream. Sir Howard Douglas states that where 
an army is provided with fresh meat, the hides of the 
slaughtered animals may be used for this purpose ; 
and he details an experiment made on the buoyancy 
of an ox-hide weighing nearly fifty pounds. ' It was 
trimmed into a circular form, about five feet and a half 
in diameter, drawn together at the edge, and firmly 
bound round a tube made of alder-wood, having the 
pith removed, and a piece of leather nailed upon the 
inner end, as a valve to prevent the air from escaping. 
The vessel was then inflated by a common band*»bel* 



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lows, and acquired a buoyancy which enabled it to 
Dear, in the water, a weight of three hundred pounds 
for five hours, and even to bear half that weight for 
a period of twenty-four hours, although the hide was 
not covered with any composition to close the pores. 

It has been proposed in France to employ, as a sup- 
port for the framework of a temporary bridge, canvas 
bags coated with a solution of India-rubber. The baft 
used experimentally were of an elliptical shape, six 
feet long, two feet wide in the centre, and two feet 
deep. The upper surface was fastened to a frame 
rather longer and wider than the bag, with sides a few 
inches high, forming consequently a light shallow case, 
in which the bags might be packed for travelling. To 
inflate the bar, two or three men, standing on planks 
attached to the lower surface of the bag, lifted the 
frame, by which the bag became stretched, and air 
rushed in through a cock or spigot, which Was after- 
wards closed ; and in this way the bag was filled with 
air in a few seconds, without the aid of bellows. The 
bags are of course intended, by their buoyancy in 
water, to support the planks for a temporary bridge. 
The* vfaot describes a similar contrivance as being in 
use to cross the Tigris, and even to travel down that 
river. The whole structure is called a kalec, and is 
formed thus:— the kalec is composed of twenty rows 
of inflated bags, each row formed of thirteen bags 
lashed to a pole. Over these, placed about two feet 
and a half apart, the floor is laid, forming a platform 
twenty-four feet by eighteen ; and on this platform the 
merchandise, &c. is placed. 

Air-tight cases, made of more durable materials than 
skin or canvas, have been more or less used as the 
floating support of temporary bridges. A German 
engineer of the last century constructed a bridge in 
the following manner : — he formed air-tight cases of 
light planks, each case being five feet long, one foot 
broad, and one deep. The cases were divided into 
four compartments each, by interior partitions, for the 
double purpose of preventing one leak from filling a 
whole case, and of giving it strength to resist the out- 
ward pressure. Four of these cases lashed together 
side by side formed a raft, weighing about three hun- 
dred pounds, and capable of sustaining a frame of 
boarding at the top. To make a bridge of such rafts 
for infantry, one of the rafts was placed in the water, 
and pushed oft' to make room for a Second, which was 
then launched, and connected with the first by the 
framing of the two being clamped together. Both 
rafts, so connected, were then pushed onwards, to give 
place to the next, and so on till the whole line of com- 
munication was formed. The rafts were kept steady 
from the movement of the current by a rope stretched 
across the stream from bank to bank. Infantry march- 
ing in single file were capable of passing along such 
a bridge. Twenty of sucn cases, forming a raft mea- 
suring twenty feet by five, would form one element 
of a bridge sufficiently strong for the passage of ca- 
valry. 

Empty casks have often been used as the buoyant 
supporters of a temporary bridge. The Russians, in 
their wars against the Turks and Tartars, have always 
been obliged to carry across the deserts supplies of 
water sufficient for several days' consumption; and 
the casks, after having served for this purpose, have 
been generally reserved for constructing rafts and 
bridges. In such cases each company took with it a 
large barrel of water for its own use ; and in order to 
make the empty vessels available for the purposes of a 
bridge* eight or ten planks are likewise carried by the 
men of each company, in turn. Nine casks, each two 
feet long by two and a half diameter in the largest 
part, supporting a frame- work of timber nine feet long, 
is calculated, when the floated casks are filled with 



air and well corked, to bear a weigh of nearly four 
thousand pounds ; and a bridge of such rafts would 
bear cavalry in single or infantry in double file. 

Sometimes boats, casks, air-tight case*, and bags 
are all equally beyond the reach of an army, br are not 
fitted for the object in view, when the troops are about 
to cross a river. In such case a continuous raft of 
timber is sometimes constructed, reaching from bank 
to bank ; and if trees arc scarce, wood is procured by 
that sort of military licence which the events of war so 
often illustrate. Sir H. Douglas, in his work on 
4 Military Bridges/ gives a remarkable instance of this 
kind in connection with the Duke of Wellingtons 
campaigns in the Peninsula. When, in July, 1809, the 
British head-quarters were at l'lacentia, it became 
necessary to secure the means by which a junction 
might be formed with Cuesta; and two companies 
were accordingly ordered to construct a raft-bridge 
over the river Tictar at Baragona. The officer to 
whom the execution of this duty was committed 
could find no materials for his bridge, except the 
timber of a large inn and its outhouses, about a mile 
and a half distant, and some pine-trees that grew in a 
neighbouring wood. The inn was thereupon Unroofed, 
and all the available timbers appropriated, including 
six large beams of dry fir, three or four hundred 
rafters, six doors, and the mangers from the Btable. 
With the large beams was formed a raft, measuring 
twenty feet by twelve, capable of supporting a flooring 
(made of the planks of the mangers) thirty feet in 
length. This raft occupied the deepest part of the 
river, and Was connected with either bank by a floor- 
ing of the doors and mangers, supported by piles 
driven into the shallow bed of the river. A strong 
rope, stretched across the river, and secured at each 
end, kept the raft in its place. On the singular raft- 
bridge thus constructed, the whole British force crossed 
the river on the 18th of July. 

On another but similar occasion, when a British 
force wanted to cross the river Alvwlla, in pursuit of 
Marshal Ney'a force, they pulled down an oil-mill to 
furnish beams for a raft, and used the doors of the 
houses and the materials of the corn-chests (which in 
Portugal are very large) for planking; with these 
materials a communication was speedily restored in a 
very ingenious manner, though neither nails nor tools 
could be procured. 

A - bridge of boats " is a medium of communication 
much more frequently adopted in military manoeuvres 
than any of the preceding, when the facilities for its 
formation are at hand. In such a case, when a river 
is about to be crossed, all the boats arc seized from the 
neighbouring banks, and applied to immediate service. 
The boats are ranged side by side, or at least parallel, 
with head and stern in the direction of the river's 
course, so as to present their sides towards the banks. 
Boats as nearly of one size as possible are placed next 
to each other, in order to maintain an uniform leveL 
An interval is left between every two boat*, and planks 
are laid across from boat to boat, the planks and the 
boats being so secured as to make a roadway suffi- 
ciently firm for an army. Bridges of boats have been 
in this way constructed of enormous dimensions. It 
is recorded that in 1739, when a Russian army was 
about to cross the Dnieper, an inundation had caused 
the river to overflow the adjacent country to a width* 
of two leagues ; nevertheless the Russians formed a 
bridge of boats across the entire breadth. 

In France bateaux, or flat-bottomed boats, are some- 
times provided, to be carried with the army to the 
place where a river is to be crossed, and there used^ 
instead of depending on the uncertainty of finding a % 
supply of boats on hand. 

{To be continued.] 



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A PAY AT THE NOTTINGHAM LACE-MANUFACTORIES. 



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certs a number of pins through the parchment into the 
cushion, in places determined by the pattern. She is 
also provided with a number of small bobbins, on which 
threads are wound ; fine thread being used for making 
the meshes or net, and a coarser kind, called gimp or 
gytnp, for working the device. The work is begun at 
the upper part of the cushion by tying together the 
threads in pairs, and each pair is attached to one of 
the pins thrust through the cushion. The threads are 
then twisted one round another in various ways, ac- 
cording to the pattern, the bobbins serving as handles 
at well as for a store of material, and the pins serving 
as knots or fixed points, or centres, round which the 
threads may be twisted. The pins inserted in the 
cushion at the commencement are merely to hold the 
threads ; but as each little mesh is made in the progress 
of the working, other pins are inserted, to prevent the 
threads from untwisting ; and the device on the parch- 
ment shows where these insertions are to occur. 

Such is the simple principle, modified according to 
the pattern about to be produced, on which * pillow- 
lace ' is made ; and it is astonishing how many females 
have been dependent for their subsistence on this occu- 
pation. Throughout the midland counties, especially 
Bedford, Buckingham, and Northampton, almost every 
town and village exlubits this domestic branch of ma- 
nufacture; but so greatly has it suffered by the com- 
petition of the Nottingham lace, that it would perhaps 
he difficult now to say what is the number of persons 
thus employed. Iu a petition presented to Queen 
Adelaide in 1830, it was stated that a hundred and 
twenty thousand persons were dependent on the pillow- 
lace manufacture, and were reduced to an extremely 
low rate of earnings ; but it is supposed that the num- 
ber has been since then greatly reduced. Mr. Slater 
(in M'Culloch's * Commercial Dictionary'), after speak- 
ing of an improved pattern of pillow-lace introduced 
about the year 1800, says, " From that time to 1812, 
the improvement and consequent success were asto- 
nishing and unprecedented. At Honiton in Devon- 
shire, the manufacture had arrived at that perfection, 
was so tasteful in the design, and so delicate and beau- 
tiful in the woikmanship, as not to be excelled even by 
the best specimens of Brussels lace. During the late 
war veils of this lace were sold in London at from 
twenty to a hundred guineas: they are now (1831) sold 
at from eight to fifteen guineas. The effects of the 
competition of machinery, however, were about this 
time felt; and in 1815 the broad laces began to be 
superseded by the new manufacture. The pillow-lace 
trade has since been gradually dwindling into insig- 
nificance." 

Here then we come to the point of connection be- 
tween pillow-lace and machine-lace : we see that the 
former thirty or forty years back from the present time 
was in its zenith ; and we have now to watch the steps 
whereby that system was produced which has exhibited 
such wonderful results at Nottingham. 

Nottingham is the centre of the cotton hosiery dis- 
trict, as Leicester is of the worsted hosiery, and. Derby 
of the silk. In all three varieties, the weaving (if it may 
be so termed) of the stockings is effected through the 
instrumentality of the * stocking-frame,' one of the most 
singular machines belonging to our textile manufac- 
tures ; and it was through the medium of this frame 
that machinery first became applied to the making of a 
material which should imitate lace. A stocking, it 
would be seen by a little examination, is formed by a 
series of loops, in which a long and continuous thread 
is passed successively through loops or eyes into which 
it is temporarily thrown ; whereas lace, whether made 
on the pillow or by machinery, results from a twisting of 
one thread round another. 

It is said to have been about the year 1770 that one 



Hammond, a frame-work knitter (which is the techni- 
cal name for a stocking-maker) at Nottingham, while 
looking at a piece of pillow-lace in his wife's cap, 
bethought him of trying whether he could imitate it by 
a modified action of his stocking-frame. With what 
degree of success the attempt was followed is not clearly 
stated ; but in all probability it was more instrumental 
in spurring on the ingenuity "of others than in effecting 
the immediate object desired. From that time Not- 
tingham and its vicinity became a scene of remarkable 
bustle and ingenuity ; numerous frame-work knitters 
being led, by the hope of pecuniary advantage, to 
study and improve the capabilities of their hosiery- 
frames. By degrees the retail shops exhibited speci- 
mens of machine-made lace, so much cheaper than that 
made by hand, as to give rise to a progressively in- 
creased demand ; and Nottingham became the nucleus 
of an entirely new branch of manufacture. 

The great improvement, however, which gave to the 
new branch of industry its most extraordinary impulse, 
resulted from the inventive ingenuity of Mr. Heathcoat. 
This gentleman constructed a machine, which, from cer- 
tain arrangements of its parts, was called a * bobbin 
frame * or machine ; and nence has resulted the term 
* bobbin-net.' But Mr. Heathcoat, like many other in- 
genious men who have introduced improvements in 
manufactures (among whom Jacquard furnishes a nota- 
ble instance), was treated roughly for his pains by some 
of the workmen ; and he transterred his capital and 
skill to Devonshire, where the bobbin-net manufacture 
soon attained a high degree of importance. 

Mr. Heathcoat, having obtained a patent for his im- 
portant improvements about the year 1809, retained the 
use of it in a great measure in his own hands till about 
the year 1823 j when, the patent expiring, the manu- 
facture was taken up with an extraordinary degree of 
activity by many persons at Nottingham. " A tempo- 
rary prosperity, says Mr. M^Cullocn, " shone upon the 
trade ; and numerous individuals — clergymen, lawyers, 
doctors, and others—readily embarked capital in so 
tempting a speculation. races fell in proportion as 
production increased ; but the demand was immense ; 
and the Nottingham lace-frame became the organ of 
general supply, rivalling and supplanting, in plain nets, 
trie most finished productions of France and the Ne- 
therlands." The earnings of workmen were quite extra- 
ordinary. The inhabitants of Nottingham look back to 
that period as to a sort of golden age, never equalled 
before or since, when men could earn wages such" as 
would startle those unacquainted with the matter. Dr. 
Ure remarks, that "it was no uncommon thing for an 
artisan to leave his usual calling, and, betaking himself 
to a lace-frame, of which he was part proprietor, realize 
by working upon it 20*., 30*., nay even 40*.* per day. 
In consequence of such wonderful gains, Nottingham, 
the birthplace of this new art, with Loughborough, and 
the adjoining villages, became the scene of an epidemic 
mania. Many, though nearly devoid of mechanical 
genius or the constructive talent, tormented themselves 
night and day with projects of bobbins, pushers, lockers, 
point-bars, and needles of every various form, till their 
minds got permanently bewildered. Several lost their 
senses altogether ; and some, after cherishing visions of 
wealth, as in the old time of alchemy, finding their 
schemes abortive, sank into despair, and committed 
suicide." 

By degrees the furor subsided, and the bobbin-net 
manufacture took its place among those which are of 
national importance, but not pre-eminent for lucrative 
returns. Competition and superabundant supply, a* 
usual, brought this about. Various manufacturers and 
machinists, among whom are Mr. Morley and Mr. 
Leavers, have from time to time introduced improve- 
merits and modifications of the machine ; and steam- 



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power, which was first applied to this manufacture in 
1816, became gradually adopted more and more, till the 
most extraordinary changes have resulted in the prices 
of the finished articles. It has been stated that lace, 
which was sold by Mr. Heathcoat for five guineas a 
yard soon after the taking out of his patent, can now 
be equalled at eighteenpence a yard ; that quillings, as 
made by a newly-constructed machine in 1810, and sold 
at four shillings and sixpence a yard, can now be not only 
equalled but excelled for three halfpence a yard ; and 
that a certain width of net, which brought seventeen 
pounds per piece twenty years ago, is now sold for seven 
shillings ! xhere are but few other branches of our 
manufactures in which equal vicissitudes have occurred 
in the same space of time. 

The reader will by this time have had ample means 
for judging how it is that machine-made lace has done 
so much towards extinguishing the old pillow-lace ; and 
will be prepared to accompany us in a brief notice of 
the manufacture. 

From the mode in which the lace-manufacture is sub- 
divided at Nottingham, any notice of one single factory 
would fail to convey an idea of the general system 
pursued, because links would be wanting in the chain 
of processes. For this reason we have thought it better, 
instead of confining ourselves to the general arrange- 
ments of one large factory, to consider the whole town 
as a collective lace-manufacturing community, and to 
follow a piece of lace from house to house, and from 
factory to factory, till it is presented to us in a finished 
form. Several manufacturers^ some of whose names 
we shall have to mention, have kindly furnished the 
facilities for this object. 

In the first place, then, the cotton-thread is procured 
from the Manchester districts. There are probably a 
few cotton-mills at hand, but the main bulk of the 
material employed is furnished by the great Lancashire 
and Cheshire firms. We do not know whether flax- 
thread is ever now used for machine-made lace, but 
cotton fonns the great staple, and to that we may con- 
fine our attention. The * cotton-yarn agents ' are 
perhaps the first parties in the chain of operations at 
Nottingham to whom it may be necessary to refer. 
They come between the Manchester spinner and the 
Nottingham manufacturer, effecting sales of cotton 
thread or yarn from the former to the latter. These 
agents are in some cases lace-agents also, and effect 
sales of the manufactured articles; indeed they oc- 
casionally receive a portion of the finished lace as pay- 
ment for the thread supplied. 

Then comes the • manufacturer/ A bobbin-net 
machine is so complex and so costly, that, unlike a 
common loom, the actual workman can seldom possess 
one of his own ; he must be indebted to another man 
who possesses capital, for his working implements. In 
some cases the capitalist has a large building, contain- 
ing all the requirements and resources of a regular 
factory, and where the machines are generally worked 
by steam-power. In other cases he may have a large 
number of machines, but instead of working them 
on his own premises, he lets them out at so much a 
day to middle-men called * machine-holders.' These 
machine-holders intervene between the machine-owners 
and the workmen, much in the same way as a house- 
holder supplies a link between the house-owner and the 
lodger ; he pays rent to the owner, and receives it back, 
with a profit, from those who occupy a subordinate posi- 
tion to himself. In such cases as these the machines 
are worked by hand-power, since steam-power only 
* becomes available in a tolerably large building. 

Mr. Drinkwater, one of the Factory Commissioners, 
who visited Nottingham for the purposes of the Com- 
mission in 1833, after giving a list of the machine- 
owners, says :— •• It will be seen by this list that a very 



large proportion of them are proprietors of a single 
machine ; in this case the owner generally works it 
himself, and so far partakes of the character of master 
and journeyman. It is not* uncommon to find one of 
these costly machines, which may have occasioned an 
outlay of 500/. to 1000/., within a house but little 
removed above the degree of a cottage ; but for the 
most part thev are worked in the attics and upper stories 
of substantial houses, the lower parts of which are 
occupied as shops or lodging-houses. The centre of 
the town is not much filled with them ; but in all the 
approaches and in the back streets, as well as in the 
better houses of the lower town, the incessant thumping 
of the machine is heard." 

As an example of a factory on a considerable scale, 
we may mention one which we visited in the vicinity 
of Nottingham, in the possession of a Mr. Burton. 
The lace-manufacture is carried on not only in Notting- 
ham, but throughout a circle of wide radius, of which 
that town is the centre. About two mHes north of the 
town, on the road to Mansfield and Worksop, is a 
pretty little village called Carrington, many of the 
inhabitants of which are employed in this factory. The 
factory presents to view a double pile of buildings, ex- 
hibiting long ranges of windows, story after story, to a 
considerable height, and surmounted by the usual 
pinnacle of a factory — viz. a chimney. The entrance 
and the staircases occupy a middle compartment 
between the two ranges of buildings. 

On entering some of the stories of the factory, the 
effect to a stranger is most deafening, for the lace- 
making machine is anything but a silent worker. Some 
of the stories" of the building are filled with the ma- 
chines, making broad net several yards wide, or nar- 
rower net for quillings. Some are occupied by winders, 
winding the yarn on the very remarkable bobbins em- 
ployed in the manufacture. Some are devoted to pro- 
cesses subsequent to the actual formation of the net, 
but preparative to the sale of the commodity. In the 
lower part of the factory are smiths' and engineers' 
shops, where the mac nines are partially made, and 
wholly adjusted to working order. In a court-yard in 
front of the factory is an appendage which may at first 
seem rather remarkable, viz., a gas'house. The factory 
being a mile or two from Nottingham renders a supply 
of gas from thence a serious affair ; while the system on 
which the factory is conducted renders necessary a 
large amount of night-work. The machinery is kept at 
work for twenty hours out of the twenty-four, two com- 
plete sets of workpeople being engaged ; and thus a 
supply of artificial light is required for a preat number 
of hours. It is to furnish this, and in sufficient quantity, 
that the gas-works, with the necessary apparatus of 
retorts, purifiers, gasometer, &c, have been constructed 
within tne establishment. 

At the factory here described, various kinds of net 
and lace, both plain and figured, are made. At another 
establishment which we visited, in Nottingham, viz. 
that of Mr. Beck, the machines are employed in the 
production of fancy net alone, that is, such as are in- 
tended to imitate the productions of hand-labour ; both 
in the form of wide pieces, and in that of narrow quill- 
ings and borders. In a third establishment, the property 
of* Mr. Cleaver, we found the machines wholly em- 
ployed in making silk edgings ; a great many widths 
being made at one time, and then separated by drawing 
out threads from between them ; and some of the ma- 
chines able to produce ten thousand yards of silk edging 
per week. 

So it is throughout Nottingham and its vicinity. 
Some manufacturers undertake the fabrication of one. 
kind of net or lace, and some another; but there is a 
genera] similarity of proceeding throughout, both in 
the mode in which the machines act, and in the pre- 



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paratory and finishing processes to which the lace is 
subjected. 

The reader may now very naturally be desirous of 
knowing what kind of a machine it is that produces 
such remarkable results. Here we have to state at 
once that a thorough comprehension of its action can 
scarcely by any possibility be acquired from a written 
description, unless accompanied by a large series of il- 
lustrative engravings, and studied closely bv those who 
are accustomed to investigate the action of machinery. 
This is, of course, quite beyond our present purpose, 
which relates only to a slight exposition of the general 
principles involved. 

Let us ask, then, what is it that the machine has to 
perform? It has to entwine threads one around another 
in such a way as to form meshes or holes, bounded by a 
circular, a square, a hexagonal, or an octagonal margin, 
according to the pattern. We may make the following 
supposition : — Let a number of strings be suspended 
from the ceiling of a room in pairs, so that when the 
two strings of each pair are twisted round each other 
by hand, they may form half as many ropes as there 
were strings. We will further suppose, that after two 
or three turns of one string round another, each string 
is twisted once round one string of an adjoining pair, 
and then returned again to its former companion. By 
this arrangement, each rope would become linked to 
the adjoining ropes on either side, and the whole would 
form a kind of net-work, presenting holes or meshes 
bearing some analogy to those of net-lace. 

Or we may represent it pictorial ly, thus :— Here we 




[Strlngi twfcted Is the manner of the botdrin-iret. j 

have a small number of strings, fixed at one end ; and 
each string has to be passed diagonally round and be- 
tween the others, so as to form knots, links, loops, or 
whatever fastenings they may seem most to resemble. 
The reader, perhaps, could hardly bring the matter 
home to his own mind more clearly than by selecting a 
few threads of different colours, fastening them at one 
end, and twisting them round one another in a certain 
definite and pre-arranged order : he would find that 
the meshes produced would bear some slight resem- 
blance to different kinds of net, according to the man- 
ner and the order in which the successive threads were 
brought into the twist. 
Now it is to effect such convolutions as these that the 



machine is employed ; and there is certainly much to 
call for admiration in the successful adaptation of parts 
to this end. In common weaving, it is well known that 
the cross threads pass at right angles over and under 
the long thread, passing over ana under each thread 
alternately, if it be to form a plain material, or 
passing over several threads consecutively and under 
one, if it be to form a twill. But in the produc- 
tion of net this crossing is at the same time accom- 
panied by a twist, so that one thread passes completely 
round another. 

Annexed is a representation of part of a winding- 
engine ; to which succeeds another cut portraying 




[Winding- Ecghu.] 

the essential parts of one kind of bobbin-net machine. 
The former winds the cotton for the latter, and is repre- 
sented here to show how the cotton leaves the form 
of skeins, and is wound on a bobbin or reel. 

The net-machines are infinitely more complex. There 
are several kinds employed by the Nottingham manufac- 
turers, and known by the names of the * circular-bolt 
machine/ the * lever-machine/ &c., according to certain 
peculiarities in the mode of action ; but one of these, 
viz. the * circular bolt/ which is more used than any of 
the others, will be sufficient for our purpose. It so far 
bears an analogy to a common loom tnat there are warp- 
threads stretched in a parallel layer, and weft-threads 
wound on bobbins which pass between the warp-threads ; 
but beyond this point the analogy is very slight indeed. 
In common weaving, the warp-threads lie horizontal ; 
here they are vertical. In the former case, the bobbins 
are only few in number ; in the latter they amount to 
hundreds, and even thousands. In the former the bobbin 
passes between and among the warp-threads in the di- 
rection of the plane in which the warp lies ; in the lat- 
ter it passes at right angles to that direction. In the 
former there is only one weft-thread, or one bobbin or 
shuttle, to many thousand warp-threads ; in the latter, 
there are as many separate well-threads and bobbins as 
there are warp-threads. 

When we thus speak of * bobbins ' in reference to 
common weaving, we depart a little from common no- 
menclature ; for the name of * shuttle ' is given to the 
little machine which carries the wefl*thread : but the 
analogy of principle is observable, independent of the 
technical terms employed. The shuttle, in common 
weaving, is a kind of little boat, containing the weft- * 
thread, wound upon a pirn or axis. But the bobbin of 
a net-machine is a most remarkable contrivance. The 
whole apparatus, including the bobbin on which the 
cotton t/eft-thread is wound, and the carriage or frame 



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in which it is placed, is not thicker than the diameter 
of the meshes in the net to be made. Very frequently 
the thickness is not more than one-thirtieth of an inch ! 
The bobbin consists of two thin disks of brass, aoout an 
inch and a half in diameter, laid face to face with a 



slight intervening space ; and in this minute space the 
thread is wound, in quantity about fifty or sixty yards 
to each bobbin. The bobbin is then fitted into a kind 
of carriage, which conveys it between the threads of the 
warp, and at the same time allows the thread to be un- 



Keeeutial parts of the Bobbin-net Machine] 

(The warp, ascending from the beam A, passes through small holes in a guide-bar B, and thence to the point C, where the bobbins hi their 
respective combs, driven by the ledges on the two bars beneath, traverse Uie warp to and fro, and interlace the threads as shown at D ; the points K 
feinting to maintain the forms of the meshes.) 

wound from the bobbin : in short, the carriage is to the 
bobbin what the little boat of a shuttle is to the pirn on 
which the weft-thread is wound. 

No less than three thousand six hundred of such bob- 
bins as are here described are sometimes used in one 
machine ! Many of the machines are twenty quarters 
wide — that is, htted to the manufacture of net five 
yards in width ; and have twenty of these bobbins to 
the inch. If the arrangements qf the machine, as re- 

E resented in the cut, be examined (the moving power 
eing here wholly omitted), it will be seen that the 
warp-threads are wound on a beam in the lower part of 
the machine, from which they ascend to the upper 
part. The warp is divided into two parcels (somewhat 
in the same manner as the warp of a common loom by 
the action of the treadles), and each parcel is suscepti- 
ble of a reciprocating motion, alternately to the right 
and left. Trie weft-threads, wound on the bobbins, are 
fastened each at one end to the upper part of the ma- 
chine ; and the bobbins are suspended so as to have a 
backward and forward motion between the warp- 
threads, like so many clock pendulums, being guided 
between the warp-threads by a very curious piece of 
apparatus called a * comb/ l*he principle of action, 
then, is this : — After the bobbins have been driven be- 
tween the respective warp-threads, the warp is shifted 
a little on one side, so that, when the bobbins return, 
they pass through openings different from those which 
they traversed in the first instance ; and by this means 
the weft-thread, unwinding from each bobbin in the 
course of its movement, becomes twisted round one of 
the warp-threads. After this has been repeated two or 
three times, the comb which carries the bobbins is it- 
self shifted to and fro laterally, by which the bobbins 
are brought opposite to openings between the warp- 
threads different from those to wnich they were before 
opposed. Herein lies the whole principle. According 



as the front layer of warp, or the hinder layer, or the 
comb carrying the bobbins, are shifted to and fro late- 
rally, so does the weft-thread, las it becomes unwound 
from the bobbins, twist round the warp-threads during 
the passage of the bobbins across ; a shifting, in one or 
other of several different ways, being effected immedi- 
ately after each traverse of the bobbin. After a cer- 
tain number of twistings have been effected, a series of 
points become inserted between the warp-threads, and 
temporarily hold up the knotted twists so as to form the 
meshes of the net. 

It has been often said, and truly, that the bobbin-net 
machine is one of the most complicated which the in- 
genuity of man has ever devised ; and it may therefore 
well be supposed that nothing more than the bare 
principle can be here exhibited. Perhaps it may assist 
the reader if we carry out our former supposition a little 
further. Let a series of strings be suspended from the 
ceiling in two rows, with their ends fastened to a hori- 
zontal bar ; and let a number of small pendulums be 
suspended between the strings, and enabled to oscillate 
to and fro between them. Then, if after each traverse 
of the pendulums between the stretched threads, the 
rows, one or both, of threads be shifted a little on one 
side, so that the pendulums may return through openings 
different from those which they before traversed, we 
should have a system of movements somewhat analo- 
gous to those in the machine; and the strings by 
which the pendulums were suspended would be found 
to twist round the stretched vertical strings. If we 
further suppose that each row of strings is capable of 
being shifted independent of the other, and that the 
pendulum strings be fastened to a shifting bar near 
the ceiling, we might imitate in a rough way the series 
of movements by which net is made. 

Not only is plain net made by these movements of 
the machine, but figured net also* In plain nets, all 



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the bobbins are moved similarly at one time ; but in 
fancy nets, some are stationary, some pass between the 
warp-threads, some are shifted laterally to the distance 
of one mesh, some to the distance of two or three 
meshes ; some move to the right, some to the left ; 
the warp-threads, too, instead of being divided into 
two parcels only, are divided into several, each of 
whicn is susceptible of the lateral movement inde- 
pendent of the others. It is by modifications of 
these lateral movements that all the numerous varieties 
of machine-made lace or net are produced ; and if this 
fact be borne in mind, the principle of the machine 
becomes to a certain degree explicable. It is known 
to those who have witnessed weaving, that fijejured 
weaving results from a multiplication or extension of 
the same kind of movements as those whereby plain 
weaving is effected ; and the same may be said of 
lace-making. It results from this, that a great portion 
of the complexity of the machine is due to the me- 
chanism by which these lateral movements are pro- 
duced : if the warp is divided into several parcels, each 
of which can be moved, either to the right or to the 
left, independently of the other parcels; and if the 
bobbins are similarly classed in several parcels, each of 
which shifts without reference to the others; it follows 
that an almost infinite variety cf movements may be 
brought about ; and it is not difficult to see that these 
movements must affect the manner in which the bob- 
bin-threads twist round the warp-threads, and conse- 
quently affect the pattern produced. 

It is by means of levers that the various parcels of 
warp and bobbin threads are shifted laterally, after each 
traverse of the bobbins ; and the annexed cut shows 

one of the modern con- 
trivances for governing 
the movements of the 
levers. This is an appli- 
cation of the Jacquard 
apparatus, which we saw 
at work in the establish- 
ment of Mr. Beck. Near 
the end of the bobbin- 
net machine is fixed the 
pentagonal bar here re- 
presented, each side of 
which is pierced with as 
many holes as there are 
pins or levers above, seen 
at the top of the cut. A 
number of oblong pieces 
of card, from two to five 
hundred, are connected 
together in an endless 
chain, and so arranged as 
to size, that when one of 
the cards is laid on one 
side of the pentagon, and 
the latter made to revolve, 
the whole series will be 
brought successively in 
contact with the penta- 
gon, each one lying tem- 
porarily on the flat upper 
side. Every card is pierced 
with holes, varying in 
number and disposition 
according to the pattern 
of the lace to be pro- 
duced, but never more in number than the pins or 
levers above ; and these holes are so cut as to coincide 
exactly with those in the pentagon. Suppose, then, 
the pentagon to have an up and down motion, so as to 
be brought in contact with the pins, what would result? 
Wherever a hole occurs in the card, it permits the pin 



opposite to it to penetrate into the pentagon ; but 
where a blank occurs, by the card not being perforated 
opposite to a particular pin, the pin cannot enter the 
pentagon, but is driven upwards. Now the warp and 
bobbin threads, and other apparatus of the machine, 
are so connected with these pins, that when one of the 
pins is driven upwards, some part of the thread-appa- 
ratus is shifted laterally ; and it hence follows that the 
disposition of the holes in the cards determines the 
order and number of the shillings of the threads. It 
bears a strong analogy to the action of a barrel-organ 
or a musical snuff-box, where the number and disposi- 
tion of the pins on the barrel determine the pipes and 
the springs which shall be sounded. The number of 
cards employed depends on the number of successive 
movements requisite to form one complete specimen of 
the pattern. 

Whether the article be plain broad net, fancy broad 
net, sprigged net, plait net, wire-ground net, quilling 
net, or edging, the movements of the machine by 
which it is made depend pretty much on the same prin- 
ciples, and may therefore all be alluded to in connec- 
tion. But in noticing the subsequent processes, it will 
be desirable to take some one kind as a standard ; and 
for this purpose it will be well to select a specimen of 
* piece-goods,' such as a collar or a cape, in which all 
the figures are worked by hand on a piece of plain 
net. 

After a piece of plain net. has left the machine, it 
undergoes the process of * gassing,' or singeing, for the 
removal of the nairy filaments from the cotton. There 
are some firms in Nottingham which confine their at- 
tention to this operation only. The gassing-machine 
is a very beautiful contrivance, in which the manufac- 
tured article is drawn between two rollers, and exposed, 
as it passes, to the action of a large number of minute 
blazes of gas, which remove the little adherent fila- 
ments without scorching or burning the net. 

Supposing, as we do, the specimen to be a piece of 
plain net which is to be embroidered by hand, the net 
next receives a slight printing, with some coloured pig- 
ment, of the pattern which is to be worked upon it. 
There are in Nottingham a small number of artists (for 
so they are or ought to be) who design patterns for the 
lace-workers, and cut them out on wooden blocks, pre- 
cisely as those for the floor-cloth manufacture. Tins 
is evidently an employment in which taste and a know* 
ledge of the forms of natural objects are required ; and 
it is satisfactory to find that a School of Design is about 
to be established at Nottingham, with the avowed 
object of elevating the taste and character of the lace- 
patterns produced. The lace is generally carried to 
the house of the • designer and stamper,' who stamps 
the pattern very slightly on it. In the instance of a 
cape or collar, or any article of definite shape, the 
stamp gives the shape and size of the article, as well as 
the figures with which it is to be decorated. 

When the stamper has imprinted on the net the out- 
lines of the device, a * pattern-setter ' decides on the 
manner in which the pattern shall be filled up. For 
instance, if a leaf form part of the pattern, the stamper 
only gives the outline of the leaf, and it rests with the 

Eattern- setter to determine how the needle of the em- 
roideress shall fill up the device. 
We next go to one of the humble homes of the nu- 
merous and lowly-paid * lace-runners.' The term em- 
broidery does not seem to be much used in connection 
with the Nottingham lace-trade, most of those who 
work on net with the needle being termed * lace-runners,* 
Each workwoman has a frame, on which the net is 
stretched out horizontally, at a height of about three 
feet from the ground. She sits on a stool or chair, 
places her left hand under the stretched net, to keep it 
in a right position for working, and with her right hand 



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works the pattern with needle and thread in every pait 
where the stamper has imprinted a device. The needle 
is inserted between and among the meshes of the net, 
and stitches of greater or less length taken, until there 
is a body of thread laid in sufficient to mark the device 
conspicuously. This working round of the outline is 
called • running*/ while the filling-up of the interior 
parts is termed either * fining ' or * open-working/ ac- 
cording as the original meshes of the net are brought 
to a smaller or a larger size by the action of the needle. 
How, by the work of the needle, the meshes of the net 
may be made larger or smaller, will be easily compre- 
hended by the one sex, and must be taken for granted 
by the other. 

It is sad work to see how continuously these poor 
females must labour before they can earna small pit- 
tance. Little do those who see in the attractive shop- 
windows of London the beautiful veils and capes which 
Nottingham now produces, imagine how many aching 
fingers and eyes, and perhaps hearts, have been con- 
cerned in their production. We believe it to be pretty 
nearly correct to say that at the present time the 
earnings of the lace-runners do not, on an average, 
much exceed a half-penny an hour ; for the weekly 
earnings for long days' work are not much above three 
shillings, and are frequently below it. 

The mode in which this embroidery business is trans- 
acted is often thus : — A person takes from a manufac- 
turer as much work as twenty, or perhaps fifty, females 
can embroider ; and she devotes as many rooms as her 
house can afford to the reception of the workers, who 
pay to her a trifling sum (out of their trifling earnings) 
for the use of the room. Our frontispiece, for example, 
was taken in a garret or attic in a house in an humble 
neighbourhood, in which seven or eight young women 
were at work, in the same manner as the three repre- 
sented in the cut. They all received their work from 
the woman who rented the house, who paid them for 
their labour, deducting a rent for the frame-room, and, 
we believe, a further trifle for some other item. To 
eke out their earnings, the women in one room often 
have their meals in common, making up, for a few 
pence, a hash or stew sufficient to dine seven or eight. 
There they sit, for twelve Or fourteen hours a day, with 
the head stooping over their work, plying the needle, 
and driving off dull thoughts as well as they may by 
singing (for there is said to be' much singing among 
the Nottingham work-people). It is not unfrequent 
for them to say—" If the great ladies of London knew 
how much work we have to do to their veils and capes 
for a shilling, they would pay better." But, poor things, 
these embroiderers do not know how complex, in such a 
country as England, are the circumstances which regu- 
late the wages of labour : they would perhaps find that 
in reality the " great ladies of London " have but little 
influence on the rate of the seamstresses' earnings. 

Some of the articles in lace are decorated by • tam- 
bouring' instead of • lace-running.' This is done in 
frames similar to the others, and by females in a similar 
rank of life ; but a very small hook is used instead of a 
needle, by which a thread is wound as a kind of chain 
about and among the threads of the net. 

After the lace-runners have worked the collar, cape, 
veil, or other net-lace article, it is taken back to the 
manufacturer, who then employs • lace-menders' to ex- 
amine every piece, and mend, with needle and thread, 
every defective mesh in the net, whether produced in the 
machine or by any subsequent accident. This is done 
so skilfully, and the form of the mesh so closely imi- 
tated, thai the mended part can scarcely be detected 
except by a practised eye. The females engaged at 
' lace-mending ' earn much higher wages than the lace- 
runners, on account of the greater skill required. 

The bleaching is an important part of the net manu- 



facture, and is carried on byseveral firms in the neigh- 
bourhood of Nottingham. The net, after going-tfirough 
the greater part of the processes, has acquired a tint 
nearly as dark as brown hoi land ; and it is the office of 
the bleacher to give it the snowy whiteness which adds 
so much to the beauty of the material. This bleaching 
is effected by a series of processes, such as scouring, 
exposure to the action of bleaching liquid, drying, &c. 
At one bleaching establishment near Nottingham, that 
of Messrs. Manlove and Alliott, we witnessed a most 
remarkable mode of drying the net after bleaching, re- 
cently patented, we believe, by these gentlemen. Usu- 
ally the bleached article is wrung or pressed, and then 
hung up in a hot room to dry ; but in this new mode the 
net is wrapped round in a kind of coil, between two con- 
centric copper cylinders, the outer one of which is per- 
forated with holes. The apparatus is then made to 
rotate with extraordinary velocity, so great even as a 
thousand times in a minute ; and the centrifugal force 
thus engendered drives out the water from the damp 
net through the holes in the cylinder, thus leaving the 
material nearly dry. It is expected that this invention 
will introduce important improvements in bleaching 
and analogous processes. 

If the net or tace is to be black, instead of white, it is 
dyed instead of bleached. 

After being again examined to see whether any fur- 
ther mending is required, the net next goes to be 
* dressed,' and this takes us td the work-rooms of another 
class of persons. The Mace-dressing rooms' of Not- 
tingham are sometimes two hundred feet in length, and 
furnished as in the annexed cut. Long frames extend 
from end to end of the shop> capable of being adjusted 
to any width by a screw, and provided with a row of 
pins round the edge. The net or lace is first dipped in 
a mixture of gum, paste, and water, wrung out, and 
stretched upon the frame by means of the pins or 
studs. While on the frame it is rubbed well with 
flannels, to equalize the action of the stiffening material 
in different parts, and then left to dry in a warm room. 
It is to the nature of the solution used that the different 
kinds of net and lace owe their different degrees of 
stiffness. 

If the manufactured article be a cape, a collar, or a 
veil, it is not till the present stage in the proceedings 
that it is cut from the piece. The stamping, the em- 
broidering, the gassing, the bleaching, the dressing 
— all are done while the piece is yet whole, several 
yards in length ; but when it approaches thus far to- 
wards completion, the material is cut up, according to 
the size ana shape given by the stamp, and a * pearl 
edge,' or something similar, is sewn on by hand round 
every edge. 

After a process of rolling, pressing, ticketing, &c, 
the article is finished. 

The kind of article which we have selected as a spe- 
cimen or standard comprises within the range of its 
manufacture nearly all the processes involved in the 
other branches of the lace-trade ; and will therefore 
serve to give an idea of them all. As regards the 
question, to what degree hand-labour is employed upon 
the different varieties, the following will be a kind of 
summing-up. In a plain net the whole fabric is made 
at the machine. In sprigged net, the groundwork and 
a portion of every sprig are made at the machine, and 
the outline of every sprig is then worked by hand. In 
fancy broad-net the device as well as the groundwork 
are made at the machine. In plait-net the same thing 
is observable, and also in tatting-net. In edging and 
lace for borders the device is now very generally 
worked by the machine, but in some varieties it is 
partly put in by hand. In 'piece-goods,' such as 
capes, collars, and veils, the device is almost wholly 
worked by hand, a very small proportion being effected 



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[View in a Lace*Drewing Room.] 



by the Jacquard appendage to the lace-machine. -As 
an exemplification oi the manner in which the machine 
and the hand imitate each other's productions, we annex 
representations of two specimens, one of which (a) was 



[Specimen of Machine Lace.] 

wholly worked at the machine, and the other (b) wholly 
figured by hand on a machine-made net, excepting the 



[Specimen of Run Lace.] 

pearl edge,' which, after being made at the machine, 
was sewn on by hand. 

We stated, in a former part of the article, that the 
machine-holder, whether owner or not, buys thread from 
the Manchester eotton-spinner,'and then works it up 
into net or lace. He does not do anything further to 



the material, but sells it at once, either to other manu- 
facturers, or to agents and dealers. These other manu- 
facturers carry the material through all the subsequent 
operations, employing and paying for the services of 
the gassers, the bleachers, the dyers, the dressers, the 
stampers, the menders, and the embroiderers. Some of 
these manufacturers only undertake' the finishing of 
the plain goods, while others confine themselves to the 
fancy or embroidery department. One of these latter, 
Mr. Hickling, to whose kindness we have been much 
indebted, has been instrumental in the introduction of 
the Nottingham * cardinal capes ' of modern lady-cos- 
tume ; while other firms have taken up some other de- 
partment in particular. Some are * cap-manufacturers ;' 
that is, they procure the lace from the machine-work- 
ers, dress and finish it, cut it up, and employ a number 
of women to make it into caps. Lastly, agents, sent by 
the great wholesale houses from London and elsewhere, 
visit Nottingham periodically, and make their pur- 
chases in lace and net ; for Nottingham is the market 
for this commodity, whether made there or elsewhere. 

Such, then, is a very brief sketch of a manufacture 
which may be said to nave had no existence in the be- 
ginning of the present century, and of which Mr. Fel- 
kin (the greatest authority in all matters relating to the 
bobbin-net trade) made the following estimate in 1831 : 
he calculated that the capital employed in Manchester 
in spinning thread for the bobbin-net manufacturers 
amounted to nearly a million sterling; and that the 
capital employed by the latter in various ways exceeded 
two millions sterling ; that the number of persons em- 
ployed in spinning, making, winding, embroidering, 
mending, &c. for the bobbin-net work, amounted to 
more than two hundred thousand ; that the raw ma- 
terial (cotton and silk) used was worth about 150,000/. 
annually, in the state as imported; that this value 
was increased to 540,000/. when spun into thread ; 
and that the final value, when manufactured into net, 
and ready for sale, was nearly two millions sterling 
per annum, or, including the wages of the embroiderers 
employed in different parts of England, more than 
three millions sterling! These results are certainly 
extraordinary, and could have been but little antici- 
pated by the inventors of the machine, sanguine as 
they might be. 



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[John preaching in the Wilderness.— From n portion of a picture hy Giotto.] 



ESSAYS ON THE LIVES OF REMARKABLE 

PAINTERS.— No. V. 

GiotTO AHd his Scholars. 

Before we say anything of the pergonal characteristics 
of Giotto, we must return for a moment to that revo- 
lution in art which originated with him — which seized 
at once on all imaginations, all sympathies ; which 
Dante, Boccaccio, and Petrarch have all commemorated 
in immortal verse or as immortal prose ; which, during 
a whole century, filled Italy and Sicily with disciples 
formed in the same school and penetrated with the 
same ideas. All that had been done in painting before 
Giotto resolved itself into the imitation of certain 
existing models, their improvement to a certain point 
in style of execution : there was no new method ; the 
Greekiah types were everywhere seen, more or less mo- 
dified— a Madonna in the middle, with a couple of 
lank saints or angels stuck on each side, holding sym- 



no. 706. 



bols; or with their names written over their heads, and 
texts of scripture proceeding from their mouths ; or at 
the most a lew figures, placed in such a position rela- 
tively to each other as sufficed to make a story intel- 
ligible, and the arrangement generally traditional and 
arbitrary : such seems to have been the limit to which 
painting had advanced previous to 1280. 

Giotto appeared ; and almost from the beginning 
of his career he not only deviated from the practice of 
the older painters, but stood opposed to tnem. He 
not only improved — he changed ; ne placed himself on 
wholly new ground. He took up those principles 
which Nicola Pisano had applied to sculpture, and 
went to the same sources, to nature, ana to those 
remains of pure antique art which showed him how to 
look at nature. His residence at Rome while "yet 
young, and in all the first glowing development of his 
creative powers floust have had an incalculable in- 
fluence on his after- works. Deficient to the end of 

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his life in the knowledge of form, he was deficient in 
that kind of heauty which depends on form ; but his 
feeling for grace and harmony in the airs of his heads 
and the arrangement of his groups was exquisite; 
and the longer he practised his ai% the more free and 
flowing became his lines. But, beyond grace and 
beyond beauty, he aimed at the expression of natural 
character and emotion, in order to render intelligible 
his newly-invented scenes of action and his religious 
allegories. A writer near his time speaks of it as 
something new and wonderful, that in Giotto's pictures 
" the personages who are in grief look melancholy, and 
those who are joyous look gay." For his heads he intro- 
duced a new type exactly reversing the Greek pattern : 
long-shaped, half-shut eyes ; a long, straight nose ; and 
a very short chin. The hands are rather delicately drawn, 
but he could not design the feet well, for which reason 
we generally find those of his men clothed in shoes or 
sandals wherever it is possible, and those of hiB women 
covered with flowing drapery. The management of 
his draperies is, indeed, particularly characteristic; 
distinguished by a certain lengthiness and narrowness 
in the folds, in which however there is much taste 
and simplicity, though in point of style as far from 
the antique as from the complicated meanness of the 
Byzantine models ; and it is curious that this peculiar 
treatment of the drapery, these long perpendicular 
folds, correspond in character with the principles of 
Gothic architecture, and with it rose and declined. For 
the stiff, wooden limbs, and motionless figures, of 
the Byzantine school, he substituted life, movement, 
and the look, at least, of flexibility. His notions of 
grouping and arrangement he seems to have taken 
Irom the ancient basso-relievos : there is a statuesque 
grace and simplicity in his compositions which reminds 
us of them. His style of colouring and execution was, 
like all the rest, an innovation on received methods : 
his colours were lighter and more roseate than had 
ever been known ; the fluid by which they were tem- 
pered more thin and easily managed ; and his frescoes 
must have been skilfully executed to have stood so 
well as they have done. Their duration is, indeed, no- 
thing compared to the Egyptian remains ; but the 
latter have been for ages covered up from light and 
air in a dry sandy climate : those of Giotto have been 
exposed to all the vicissitudes of weather and of under- 
ground damp, have been whitewashed and every way 
ill-treated, yet the fragments which remain have still 
a surprising freshness, and his distemper pictures are 
still wonderful. It is to be regretted that the^eader 
cannot be referred to any collection in England for an 
example of the characteristics here enumerated. We 
have not in the National Gallery a single example of 
Giotto or his scholars: the earliest picture we have 
is dated nearly two hundred years after his death : the 
only one in the Louvre (a St. Francis, as large as life) 
is dubious and unworthy of him. In the Florentine 
gallery are three pictures: Christ on the Mount of 
Olives, one of his best works ; and two Madonnas, with 
graceful angels, &c. In the gallery of the Academy 
of Arts, in the same city, are more than twenty small 
pictures (the best works of Giotto are on a small scale 
—these measure about a foot in height) : two of the 
same series are at Berlin, all representing subjects 
from the life and acts of Christ, of the Virgin, or St. 
Francis. Those who are curious may consult the en- 
gravings after Giotto in the plates to the * Storia della 
Piltura ' of Rosini ; in those of D' Agincourf s * His- 
toire de TArt par les Monumens;' and in Ottley's 
4 Early Italian School,' a copy of which is in the 
British Museum. 

[To bo continued ] 



FLOATING AND FLYING BRIDGES. 

[Concluded from page 112] 

A mors perfect arrangement than the bateaux is 
that of pontoons, adapted more or less by European 
armies generally. A pontoon is a kind of low flat 
vessel, somewhat resembling a lighter or barge, formed 
of a wooden frame-work, and either lined inside and 
out with tin plates, or on the outside only with copper 
plates. There arc two sizes employed, the one measur- 
ing about twenty-one feet long by five wide, and the 
other seventeen feet long by four wide. These pon- 
toons are to act as substitutes for boats in building a 
bridge of boats, or a •• pontoon-bridge," and are carried 
with an army as part of its stores, when likely to be 
necessary. Each pontoon is carried on a distinct 
wheel-carriage formed for its reception ; and with 
each one are stowed away all the materials for one 
portion of the bridge : so that a pontoon train con- 
sists not only of the pontoons, but of all the materials 
required for the bridge. A large pontoon, with its 
carriage appurtenances, weighs nearly two tons, and 
is drawn by six horses. A ^pontoon-train consists of * 
number supposed to be sufficient for the widest river 
the army will have to cross: it consists of thirty-six 
pontoons, which, with all the stores requisite for the 
operations, occupy fifty-six carriages, drawn by three 
hundred and sixteen horses. Each pontoon carries (or 
rather has belonging to it) beamB, flooring-boards, 
gang-boards, oars, bolts, an anchor, a grapnel, a cable, 
a smaller rope, a boat-hook, and a few other stores ; 
and the use of these may be simply explained as 
follows : — In building a pontoon-bridge, the pontoons 
are ranged across the river in a parallel series, and 
fastened either by a rope passing from shore to shore, 
or else by anchors, one to each pontoon. The intervals 
between the pontoons are rather greater than the 
width of the pontoons themselves. Strong beams, 
called « baulks/ are laid from one pontoon to another, 
and securely fastened. On these are laid portions of 
flooring called * chesses,' each chess consisting of 
boards joined together by wooden bars ; and when 
these chesses are laid from end to end of the line, they 
form the flooring of a bridge over which infantry, 
cavalry, and artillery may pass. The army having 
passed, the bridge is taken to pieces, and all the pon- 
toons, witli their respective portions of the stores, &c., 
are hoisted upon tneir carriages, again to be dis- 
mounted when a second occasion may require. 

We may next allude to those temporary bridges in 
which, instead of a flooring being established from 
bank to bank of a river, there is only a portion of a 
bridge, which receives its cargo on one shore, and then 
travels over to the other. 

The contrivance known in military engineering by 
the name of a « flying-bridge* is formed by enclosing 
a floating body in a river so as to receive the action of 
the stream obiiqucly ; by which a force is derived from 
the current, to move the vessel across the river. The 
kind of movement obtained is very singular, and de- 
pends on the following principle : — if a boat, or any- 
other floating body whose length greatly exceeds its 
breadth, be kept obliquely across a stream by a helm 
or any similar contrivance, and exposed to the natural 
action of the stream, the current will, by acting on 
the broadside more powerfully than on either end, 
drive it diagonally, so that while it descends the stream 
it is also driven towards one bank. Now the object of 
a flying-bridge is, to obtain the transverse movement, 
that is, the motion across the stream, and yet prevent 
the boat from descending the stream. To effect this, 
an anchor is firmly imbedded in the river, at some dis- 
tance above the line of intended passage ; and to this 
anchor a cable is attached, whose other end is fastened 



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to the boat or vessel ; the intermediate portion of the 
cable being held up out of the water by being sup- 
ported by smaller boats. The cable thus becomes tne 
radius of a circular arc, which measures the greatest 
distance that can intervene between the anchor and the 
boat. Supposing the boat to be left now to itself, the 
course of the current would bring it to the middle of 
the stream, with its length in the direction of the 
stream. But if the boat be kept with its length mak- 
ing an angle with the stream (the best angle has been 
proved to be 54° 44'). the current will drive it over 
from one bank to the other, in a circular arc, of which 
the length of the cable is the radius. The current, 
unable to drive the boat down the stream by reason of 
the cable, is yet able to urge it across the stream, by 
virtue of its pressure against the oblique side of the 
boat. The boat effects one half of the passage in a de- 
scending arc (with the current), and the other arc in an 
ascending arc ; and as the latter is obviously the most 
unfavourable, the ascent is rendered less considerable 
by having a longer cable, and consequently a flatter 
curve of transit. Sometimes two anchors are used at 
different parts of the river's width ; and the boat is so 
managed that one half of the transit is made with the 
agency of one anchor, and the other half with that of 
the other ; and in such a case the boat describes two 
curves in its passage instead of one. 

We have spoken of a boat, for convenience of de- 
scription ; but the floating body thus driven across the 
river is generally a platform, supported by boats un- 
derneath, and capable of carrying a large body of men. 
A flying-bridge for the passage of a considerable river, 
such as the Rhine or the Danube, consists of a scaffold- 
ing or frame-work placed on two long, narrow, and 
deep boats or barges. The boats are placed side by 
side, with as great a distance between them as the 
strength of the structure will allow. Beams of Btout 
timber are bolted down to the edges of the boats, and 
on the beams a stout flooring is laid. A draw-bridge 
or lifting-bridge is attached to each side of the platform, 
as a means of affording convenient ingress and egress 
to the passengers. Each boat is provided with a strong 
mast, twenty or thirty feet hi$h, to which is to be at- 
tached the cable. Each boat is provided with a rudder, 
and both rudders are so connected that one person can 
manage them. 

Two Thames barges fitted up in this manner would 
carry a platform or flooring fifty feet square, on which 
six hundred and fifty men might stand, and thus be 
conveyed across a river. Sometimes a stage of two 
stories has been erected in two boats, by which from 
fourteen to fifteen hundred men have been carried at 
once. A flying-bridge of this kind was constructed at 
Hunnengen, during one of the wars of the last century, 
in which a hundred and forty cavalry, with their horses 
and equipments, found room on the stage or platform ; 
while five hundred infantry occupied the boats under- 
neath. The length of the cable was three hundred 
toises, supported by ten boats, and fixed to a range of 
piles instead of anchors. 

Another variety of flying-bridge is that in which, 
while the obliquity of the boat's direction is the primary 
cause of the movement across the stream, the boat is 
prevented from descending the river by a rope stretched 
across from shore to shore, instead of by a cable fixed to 
an anchor in the stream. 1 1 is generally when a river is 
too wide for the adoption of the former plan that re- 
course is had to the latter. A rope, called in sea-lan- 
guage a • warp/ is stretched across the river, and is 
upheld in its medium parts by one or more buoys. 
Tne rope guides the boat while cheering' — a sea- 
term for the motion of a boat across a stream by the 
oblique action of the current. 

Sir II. Douglas describes a flying-bridge of this kind 



as having been established across the Thames at 
Gravesend. The period was during the threat of in- 
vasion, when it was of great importance to have a well- 
established military communication between Gravesend 
and Tilbury Fort, without interrupting the navigation 
of the river. There were two warps, one for passing 
from Tilbury Fort to Gravesend, and the other for the 
return course. Each warp (consisting of five-inch cable) 
was four hundred and eighty fathoms in length, with 
fifty additional fathoms of spare warp ready for use. 
Each warp was kept nearly stationary at two points in 
the width of the river, by means of fourteen-inch 
cables, each cable attached to two anchors; so that 
each warp was retained by four anchors weighing about 
a ton each. The vessels employed were large barges, 
capable of containing a great number of troops ; and 
each barge was attached to a warp in such a manner as 
to be able to move ; while the direction of the barge 
with respect to the stream was regulated by a rudder. 
At the time when these plans were adopted, steam- 
boats were unknown ; but it is probable that in the 
present day, and in such a spot, a steam-ferry would 
be adopted in preference to the * warping.' 

The harbours at Plymouth and Portsmouth display 
at the present day very remarkable examples of the 
flying-bridge moved by steam — or of steam floatin^- 
bridgeB, to use a better term. Contrivances of this 
kind are now working across Portsmouth harbour, 
from Portsmouth to Gosport, and across the Hamoaze, 
or Plymouth harbour, from Devonport to Torpoint. 
The principle is the same in both, and we will there- 
fore speak only of that belonging to Plymouth, which 
preceded the other in point of time. 

The Hamoaze at Torpoint is nearly half a mile wide 
at high-water, with a maximum depth of about a hun- 
dred feet. About fifty years ago, wnen the traffic from 
the Devonshire coast to the Cornish coast across the 
Hamoaze began to be considerable, the Earl of Mount 
Edgcumbe and Mr. Carew obtained an act of parlia- 
ment authorizing them to establish a ferry at this 
spot. This ferry proved convenient to the inhabitants 
and profitable to the owners, till the year 1825 ; when, 
to meet the increasing demands of the public, a com- 
pany took a lease of the ferry for twenty-one years, 
and endeavoured to establish a * twin steam-boat,' such 
as had shortly before been established at Dundee. The 
strength of the current was found to be too great to 
allow the boat to travel directly across the river with 
sufficient certainty for the purposes of traffic, and the 
experiment subsequently failed. 

Mr. Rendel, a civil engineer, was then applied tc 
for an investigation into the practicability of eonstruc- 
ing a floating-bridge, which, while moved by the power 
of steam, should at the same time be protected from 
the strength of the current. From this investigation 
resulted the very ingenious and efficient floating- 
bridge now plying in the Hamoaze, and which Mr. 
Rendel himself has minutely described in a paper 
addressed to the Institute of Civil Engineers. We 
will briefly describe the bridge itself, and then the 
mode of propulsion. 

The bridge is a kind of lar^e flat-bottomed vessel, 
nearly as wide as it is long, being fifty-five feet long 
by forty-five wide. It is divided lengthwise into three 
portions, the centre of which contains the machinery 
by which it is worked, while the sides form two plat- 
forms on which the passengers and carriages are placed. 
At each end of each of these side platforms is attached 
a strong and commodious drawbridge, hung on 
hinges, wjiich can be let down so that its extreme end 
may rest on the beach or shore, and thus form a con- 
venient passage for passengers, horses, and carriages 
to or from the beach and the vessel. The side plat- 
forms are eleven feet in width, and the middle divi- 



R 



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sion of the bridge contains one or two moderate-sized 
cabins. 

The next point is, to explain how this singular- 
shaped structure is propelled. This is done by the aid 
of two strong chains, stretched side by side across the 
river, from one bank to the other. The length and 
weight of the chains are such that each chain, when 
the bridge is at one shore, lies along the bottom of the 
stream ; and when the bridge is in the middle of its 
course the chain makes two curves, one between it 
and either shore. The chains are not permanently 
Hxcd at the ends, but are balanced by very heavy 
weights, so as to enable them to yield in a slight 
degree to any strain to which they might be exposed. 
The bridge or vessel is so connected with these two 
chains, that it cannot drift beyond the limits to which 
they extend ; it cannot go farther northward than the 
northern chain shifts, nor farther southward than the 
southern chain ; and as the chains are limited in their 
lateral deviation by the weights at their two ends, the 
bridge is rendered nearly independent of tho current. 

But the chains do more than guide the bridge on its 
passage ; the links, by a very curious arrangement, are 
made to supply the place of paddles. In the middle 
of the vessel is a steam-engine, whose power is exerted 
in causing the rotation of two vertical wheels seven 
or eight feet in diameter. Those wheels are parallel, 
about eleven feet apart, and lie in the direction of the 
length of the bridge. Hound the periphery of each 
wheel is a series of cogs or knobs, exactly as far apart 
as the links of the great chains. The chains pass up- 
wards from the water into one end of the bridge, over 
the cogs of the wheels, and down into the water again 
at the other end of the bridge ; the cogs striking or 
catching into the links of the chain. Now when the 
wheels are made to rotate by the engine, as the cogs 
on the periphery cannot escape from the chain, one of 
two effects must result : cither the chain must move 
on while the bridge stands still, or the bridge must 
move while the chain is stationary. The chain cannot 
move in the direction of its length, for it is fastened at 
each end ; and therefore the bridge becomes propelled. 
The wheels rotate, and the cogs catch successively in 
all the links of the chain, thus causing the whole ma- 
chine to be forcibly drawn onwards. By reversing the 
direction in which the wheels rotate, the vessel's direc- 
tion of motion is changed also. 

According to the power of the engine, so will the 
rapidity of the motion be regulated. Mr. Rendel 
states the velocity obtained in practice to be three 
hundred and twenty feet per minute, which gives about 
seven minutes and a half for the time of crossing the 
Hamoaze. Mail and stage coaches pass on to the 
bridge, just as if it were a common road, without dis- 
turbance to the passengers; and are then conveyed 
across. Mr. Rendel says that he has seen at one time 
on the bridge three four-horse carriages, one with two 
horses, seven saddle-horses, and sixty foot-passengers. 

The chains of the bridge are sufficiently loose to dip 
deeply in the water, as a means of allowing the ships 
of war, many of which are kept on either side of the 
line of passage, to pass safely over them. The main- 
tenance of this clear passage for the royal shipping 
was one of the difficulties with which the engineer 
had to contend; but it appears to have been successfully 
accomplished. There have been two of these bridges 
built, one for use while the other is under repair ; and 
the two, with the whole of the arrangements pertain- 
ing to them, cost about 9000/. The bridge crosses the 
channel four times every hour, on an average of fifteen 
hours a day. 

Mr. Rendel gives an anecdote which illustrates 
most remarkably the strength which it has been found 
practicable to give to this structure. " The ship- 



wright who built the bridge, being desirous of exhibit- 
ing so great a novelty, invited a party of friends to 
witness the launch, which went oft' with great spirit 
and more wine than was sufficient for the christening. 
The wine in this, as in many other oases, caused its 
votaries to be altogether oblivious of such unimportant 
matters as time and tide, which, as they * wait for no 
man,' so in this instance they ebbed faster than was 
perceived. It was the business of the builder to place 
the bridge in the basin of the new Victualling Yard, 
but a short distance from where the bridge was 
launched. With proper caution, the width of the en- 
trance had been measured, and found sufficient for 
the bridge, but the measurement was taken at high- 
water. The batter (slope) of the pier heads of course? 
narrowed the width of the entrance as the tide ebbed, 
so tliat when the bridge was brought to the basin the 
entrance was found just too narrow, and being caught 
ou a rapidly falling tide, the bridge was literally 
suspended between heaven and earth for eight or ten 
hours till the return tide !" Not a bolt, or timber, or 
plank started under this severe ordeal. 



Co-operative Labour atnonget SmaU Proprietor* in Switzerland. 
— The properties are too small, iu general, to keep more than 
five or six cows all winter, and few can keep more than half that 
number. Vet these small proprietors contrive to tend cheeses to 
market as large as our Cheshire dairy-farmers, with their dairy- 
stocks of forty or lifty cows, and farms rented at 200/. to 300/. 
a year. Gruydre and Parmesan cheeses are quite as large as 
Cheshire cheeses; and, as the price shows, are incomparably 
better in quality. They are made by small farmers, each uf 
whom has not, on an average, the milk of half-a-dozen cows to 
make cheeses of. Rath parish in Switzerland hires a man, ge- 
nerally from the district of (iruyere, to take care of the herd and 
make the cheese j and, if the man comes from Gruyere, all that 
he makes is called Gruyere cheese, although made far enough 
from Gruyere. One cheeseman, one pressman or assistant, and 
one cowherd, are considered necessary for every forty cows. The 
owners of the cows get credit, each of them, in a book daily, for 
the quantity of milk given by each cow. The cheeseman and 
his assistants milk the cows, put the milk all together, and make 
cheese of it ; and at the end of the season each owner receives 
the weight of cheese proportionable to the quantity of milk his 
cows have delivered. By this co-operative plan, instead of the 
small-sized, unmarketable cheeses only, which each could pro- 
duce out of his three or four cows' milk, he ha3 the some weight 
iu large marketable cheese, superior in quality, because made by 
people who attend to no other business. The cheeseman and his 
assistants are paid so much per head of the cows, in money or in 
cheese ; or sometimes they hire the cows, and pay the owners in 
money or cheese. — Mr. Laing't Note* of a Traveller, 



The Partial and the Comprehensive. — A Hindustan* Parable, 
— In a certain country there existed a village of blind men, who 
had heard of an amazing animal called the elephant, of the 
shape of which, however, they could procure no idea. One day an 
elephant passed through the place : the villagers crowded to the 
spot where the animal was standing, and one of them seized his 
trunk, another his ear, another his tail, another one of his legs. 
After thus endeavouring to gratify their curiosity, they returned 
into the village, and, sitting down together, began to communi- 
cate their ideas on the shape of the elephant to the villagers : the 
man who had seized his trunk said he thought this animal must 
be like the body of the plantain-tree ; he who had touched his 
ear was of opinion that was like the winno wing-fan ; the man 
who bad laid hold of his tail said he thought he must resemble 
a snake ; and he who had caught his leg declared be must be 
like a pillar. An old blind man of some judgment was present, 
who, though greatly perplexed in attempting to reconcile these 
jarring notions, at length said — u You have all been to examine 
the animal, and what you report, therefore, cannot be false : I 
suppose, then, that the part resembling the plantain-tree must be 
his trunk ; what you thought similar to a fan must be his ear ; 
the part like a snake must be the tail ; and that like a pillar 
must be his leg." In this way the old man, uniting all their 
conjectures, made out something of the form of the elephant.— 
Rev. W. Ward's lAttrature, Hittury, $*c. of the Hindoos. 



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[The exterior of the Tumj/W Church, from the Souili.] 



THE TEMPLE CHURCH. 

If one had never heard of the existence of such a 
Society as the Templars — a band of men who sought to 
be as conspicuous for their piety as for their military 
skill and courage, and who made it the business of 
iheir lives to reconcile the two pursuits— it would be 
still difficult to look on the exterior of the structure, 
which has been recently restored, without some sucli 
idea occurring to the mind. In the massive Round, 
with its buttresses and narrow windows, we are 
inevitably reminded of the strong circular keep or 
stronghold of the castles of the middle ages ; whilst the 
junction of the oblong portion, built in the purest and 
most beautiful of the early English Ecclesiastical 
styles, at the same time tells plainly enough that no 
mere warriors erected the whole. And the interest 
likely to be aroused by such associations is only the 
more deepened when we inquire into the history of 
the Order: when we read of Hugh de Payens with 
only eight companions devoting themselves, as "poor 
fellow- soldiers of Jesus Christ,'' to the defence of the 
pilgrims on the high road to Jerusalem, recently forced 
from the Saracens by the early Crusaders, and learn 
that from this humble origin sprung the mighty fellow- 
ship, which extended its ramifications through every 
country of Christian Europe, which comprised a large 
portion of the noblest in blood, and most influential 
in wealth and power, of European chivalry ; when we 
read also of the poverty — Hugh de Payens and another 
knight riding on one horse for instance — the humility 
and self-sacrifices to which they at first voluntarily sub- 
mitted themselves, of their heroism in active warfare 
as well as in passive endurance, of their decline and 
fall as they grew prosperous and corrupt, and then of 
the sudden restoration of the old spirit in the purifying 
flames of the horrible death to which many of the most 
illustrious members were subjected at the period of the 
extinction of the Order, by the rapacious monarchs of 
Europe thirsting for their enormous wealth ; when we 
read of these things, we might naturally suppose that it 



would be difficult to find any other circumstances that 
could materially enhance in our eyes the chief of the 
structures built by these men in our country. And 
had the Temple Church, as wc have always hitherto 
seen it, been in the state the Templars had left it, no 
doubt the feeling would have been a correct one ; but 
we now know that, with the exception of the bare out- 
line of the walls, pillars, and windows, no building 
could be less like the church of the Knights Templars 
than the Temple Church ; and the great charm and 
value of the recent works in this now most beautiful of 
English buildings, is that they are all strictly works of 
restoration. In looking at the decorations, so novel to 
our eyes, and in such a place so opposed to our ordinary 
ideas of fitness, as well as at the great expenditure 
incurred, this fact must be constantly borne in mind. 
That it is a fact we shall have various opportunities of 
noticing in the progress of our paper. 

To the lovers of Gothic architecture, a designation 
that promises shortly to be synonymous in effect with 
persons of taste and intelligence generally, (already the 
notion of the irregular genius of the style has shared 
the fate of the somewhat similar notion concerning our 
great dramatic poet) — to such persons the Temple offers 
an additional feature of interest and instruction, being 
looked upon by architects as the most interesting ex- 
ample we possess of the transition from the plain mas 
sive Norman to the light and elegant early English. 
Thus we have before us the Round with its semicircu- 
lar bended windows, Norman, but Norman in the 
last stage of the change to something else — already 
grown slender and elongated ; and wc have the oblong 
with its pointed windows, the very perfection of what 
is called the lancet style. But to return to matters of 
more general interest : the period of the erection of 
the edifice is from sonic little time prior to 1185. when 
the Round was dedicated, in honour of the Virgin 
Mary, by Heraclius, patriarch of Jerusalem, up to 1240, 
when the oblong was consecrated on Ascension-day. 
The Templars had before this a hou?e on the site of 
the present Southampton Buildings, Holborn. Hera- 



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clius was in England on business of a very critical 
nature at the time of the dedication. In a battle on 
the banks of the Jordan, in 1 179, the great body of 
Knights Templars had been nearly cut to pieces by 
Saladin, and the grand-master taken prisoner, to perish 
in prison by his own firmness or obstinacy, in resisting 
all overtures for exchange or ransom. The Christian 
armies, however, so far redeemed themselves from the 
temporary disgrace of this defeat, as to be able to 
obtain a truce for four years, whilst they sent Heraclius 
and the masters of the Temple, and the kindred society 
of the Hospitallers, through Europe to seek fresh aid. 
They in particular hoped much from Henry II. of 
England ; so much, indeed, that when the king and 
his chief nobility offered to raise fifty thousand marks 
for the purpose of paying the expenses of a levy of 
troops, and to agree that all persons who pleased 
might engage in the cause, the patriarch seems to 
have been at once deeply disappointed and indignant 
*• We seek a man, ana not money," was his reply ; 
"well near every Christian region sendeth unto us 
money, but no land sendeth to us a Prince :" and de- 
parting in this state of dissatisfaction, Henry, who had 
reason to dread the power of the Church, remembering 
the affair of Beckett, followed him to the seaside, in 
order to appease his anger. " But," continues Fab y an, 
" the more the king thought to satisfy him with his fair 
speech, the more the patriarch i|as discontented, inso- 
much that, at the last, he saicP unto him, * Hitherto 
thou hast reigned gloriously, but hereafter thou shalt 
be forsaken ot Him whom thou at this time forsakest. 
Think on Him, what he hath given to thee, and what 
thou hast yielded to Him again ; how first thou wert 
false unto the king of France, and after slew that holy 
man Thomas of Canterbury, and, lastly, thou forsakest 
the protection of Christian faith/ The king was moved 
with these words, and said unto the patriarch, * Though 
all the men of my land were one body, and spake with 
one mouth, they durst not speak to me such words.* 
1 No wonder,' said the patriarch, * for they love thine, 
and not thee: that is to mean, they love thy goods 
temporal, and fear thee for loss of promotion, but they 
love not thy soul.' And when he had so said he offered 
his hand to the king, saying, * Do by me right as thou 
didst by that blessed man Thomas ot Canterbury, for I 
had liever to be slain of thee than of the Saracens, for 
thou art worse than any Saracen.' " But Henry, how- 
ever inly exasperated, was determined not to edify his 
subjects by another kingly scourging, so answered 
patiently, " I may not wend out of my land, for my 
own sons will arise against me when I am absent. 
Somewhat irreverently the patriarch closed the con- 
ference by remarking, " No wonder, for of the devil 
they come, and to the devil they shall go ;" and so 
hurried away. Such were the circumstances connected 
with the dedication of the Temple in 1185. 

In our walk round the exterior we are reminded of 
an interesting chapel formerly attached to its south 
side ; the chapel of St. Anne, where the solemn cere- 
mony of introducing new members into the Order took 
place. The rules of the Templars, which were very 
strict, were from the hand ot St. Bernard, who at 
an early period of their career treated them with 
marked consideration. The new member having sa- 
tisfactorily answered in private to the questions put to 
him, affirming that he was free from all obligations, 
such as betrothal, marriage vows, or consecration 
in connection with any other order, debt, disease, or 
weakly constitution, was ushered into the chapel, 
where he found present the entire body of knights. 
With folded hands and bended knees, he then said 
to the master: "Sir, I am come, before God and 
before you and the brethren, and pray and beseech 
you, for the sake of God and our dear Lady, to admit 



me into your Society, and the good deeds of the Order* 
as one who will be all his lite long the 6civaut and 
slave of the Order." In answer he was warned, 
that he was desirous of a great matter ; that he saw 
nothing but the shell, the fine horses and rich capa- 
risons, the luxurious fare, and splendid clothing ; but 
that he knew not the rigour which lay within. He 
was told it was a hard matter for him, his own master, 
to become another's servant ; to watch when he wished 
to sleep, and find his most ordinary actions similarly 
controlled. The candidate, however, answering firmly 
to all the questions that followed, and binding himself 
to be obedient to the master of tiie house, as well as to 
the master of the order generally, to observe the usual 
customs, to live chastely, and help with all the powers 
God had given him to conquer the Holy Land, and to 
befriend all oppressed Christians, was received into 
the coveted brotherhood, and whilst he was assured of 
bread and water, clothing, and ** labour and toil enow," 
the Templar's habit was put on his limbs, and he too 
was a Knight Templar. The building in which these 
interesting scenes occurred appears to have consisted 
of two stories, each with a separate entrance from the 
church, each with a groined and vaulted roof, and 
each divided near the centre by a massive and no 
doubt very elegant archway. A portion of the build- 
ing fell in 1825, and during the repairs, commenced 
about that time, of the Round, the whole was swept 
away. Such, we are glad to say, is not the spirit in 
which the late extensive reparations have been carried 
on. With a few words on this subject, by way of pre- 
liminary to the splendid scene that awaits us in the 
interior, we conclude the present paper. From the 
time of the Puritans down to the very act we have last 
alluded to, the removal of the chapel of St. Anne, the 
Temple church seems to have been undergoing one 
steady process of degradation or mutilation in all that 
respects its original beauty or completeness ; and it 
would be difficult to say which have done the most 
injury, the early church reformers who damaged it on 
principle, or the kind benefactors of the seventeenth 
and eighteenth centuries, who repaired and beautified 
it, making a very labour of love of the display of their 
bad taste. Thus in 1682 a screen of " light wainscot " 
was stretched across the space between the two parts 
of the structure, cutting them asunder, and destroying 
at once all sense of harmony, or size, or fine per- 
spective. This screen, by way of refresher to eyes 
wearied with the eternal Gothic stamped on the build- 
ing around, was decorated with Corinthian pilasters 
and other suitable appendages. And that there might 
be no stealing a glimpse over the screen through the 
great central archway, a new organ was placed in that 
spot, with its classic front reaching nearly to the 
groined ceiling of the nave. There only remained to 
close up or to hide the form of the beautiful lesser 
arches on each side, which was carefully done, and to 
put in glass doors and windows in the lower portions 
of all the arches ; and that too accomplished, no doubt 
the worthy benchers smirked, and smiled, and con- 
gratulated themselves, as they stepped backwards and 
forwards, painter-fashion, some such exclamation no 
doubt escaping at intervals, as M Come, I think that's 
very nice and snug." But there was yet much to be 
done to bring everything into perfect order. The 
marble pillars looked bluish and cold, and the roof 
looked hollow and high, and the tessellated pavement 
felt uncomfortable, and the walls were sadly naked. 
So to work once more went the beau ti tiers : the pave- 
ment was raised up by a good layer of earth, some 
more " light wainscot " was obtained, and placed all 
round the walls, the pillars were cased a good way 
up in the same material, and the rest did not much 
matter, as thev were there stuck over pretty thickly with 



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tablets, or concealed by large gilded monuments : the 
church was also well paved ; and, as a finish, the whole, 
pillars, capitals, cornices, roof, groins, and wall, were 
plastered and whitewashed. Add to these features of 
the Temple Church as it was, the cumbrous pulpit 
with carved chcrubims, and vases, and a still more 
cumbrous sounding-board — add also the altar-pieces, 
an immense work in the same Corinthian style, ac- 
tually concealing no inconsiderable portion of the 
great eastern window, as the monuments along the 
sides entrenched upon the windows of the aisles— and 
we must acknowledge that the said beautifiers did not 
work by halves— that, in short, they made everything 
so very complete in one way, that it is only surprising 
their successors should have ventured to undo the 
whole, in order to try their hands at another. And 
though they did venture, and with a result that forms 
probably the commencement of a new era in the re- 
storation of our old buildings, as well as in the deco- 
ration of all, there were not wanting persons to warn 
them of the reckless course they proposed to pursue. 
" As a proof,'* pays Mr. Burge,* " now little the public 
were acquainted with the character of the T«mple 
Church, and with those parts of its style and con- 
struction which constituted its beauty, it may be men- 
tioned, that when the restoration was commenced in 
1840, the removal of these beautifications and adorn- 
ments for the purpose of effecting the restoration was 
regarded and publicly reprobated as an act of van- 
dalism, evincing an utter disregard for the ancient 
and original beauty of the church, and a fond devotion 
to the frivolous and degraded styles of modern archi- 
tecture." It were not without interest to follow the 
successive steps of the restoration to see how the re- 
covery of one beauty led to that of another ; the re- 
moval of the screen to the removal of the organ ; that 
of the great pews to that of the pulpit ; or to see how 
the removal of the whitewash above and the rubbish 
below, and consequent discovery of the remains of the 
original decoration, led to the revival of such deco- 
rations in the sumptuous roof, and windows, and pave- 
ment, that now meet the eye ; but our space will only 
allow us to notice the result of the whole as exem- 
plified in the magnificent interior, towards which we 
now advance. 

[To be continued.] 



ON PRETERNATURAL RAINS. 
Though the world talks of the skies •' raining cats 
and dogs," yet this is evidently regarded merely as 
a pleasantry, not likely to be disturbed by the ful- 
filment of the phenomenon. But if we were told 
that the skies had " rained fishes," and were to regard 
that as equally a joke, it might be found that incre- 
dulity proceeded in this case a little too far. The 
recorded instances bearing on this point are too 
numerous, and too well authenticated, to be disbelieved 
or slighted. 

The phrase "raining fishes" is merely indicative of 
the popular notion entertained respecting the pheno- 
menon in India, where it occurs very frequently ; the 
facts themselves maybe recorded without the neces- 
sity for assent to so startling an idea as the precipita- 
tion of fishes from the clouds. All that is meant to be 
conveyed by the expression is, that fishes are found 
to fall on dry land, under peculiar states of the 
weather. 

Newspapers and periodicals published in India 
frequently contain notices of these falls of fish ; and 
one gentleman, writing on the subject, says : — " I was 
as incredulous as my neighbours, until I once found 
a small fish, which had apparently been alive when it 
* 'The Temple Church.' 



fell in the brass funnel of my pluviometer at Benares, 
which stood on an insulated stone pillar, raised five 
feet above the ground in my garden." Another gen- 
tleman, writing in September, 1839, and in relation to 
a spot about twenty miles south of Calcutta, states : — 
"About 2 o'clock p.m. of the 20th inst. we had a 
very smart shower of rain, and with it descended a 
quantity of live fish, about three inches in length, and 
all of one kind only. They fell in a straight line on 
the road from my house to the tank, which is about 
forty or fifty yards distant. Those which fell on the 
hard ground were as a matter of course killed from 
the fall ; but those which fell where there was grass 
sustained no injury ; and I picked up a large quantity 
of them « alive and kicking,' and let them go into my 
tank. . . . The most strange thing that ever struck me, 
in connection with this event, was, that the fish did 
not fall helter-skelter, everywhere, or ' here and there ;' 
but they fell in a straight line, not more than a cubit 
in breadth." The explanation which this gentleman 
deems most probable, is one to which we shall allude 
farther on. 

Another example is stated to have taken place near 
Allahabad. About noon, on a particular day in the 
month of May, the wind being from the west, and a 
few distant clouds visible, a blast of high wind came 
on, accompanied with so much dust as to change the 
tint of the atmosphere to a reddish hue. The blast 
appeared to extend in breadth four hundred yards, 
and was so violent that many large trees were blown 
down. When the storm had passed over, the ground, 
south of the village where the observation was made, 
was found to be covered with fish, not less than three 
or four thousand in number. The fish were all about 
a span in length, and of a species well known in 
India. When found they were all dead and dry. 

A lady residing at Moradabad, in a letter to a friend 
in England, in 1829, gives an account of a number of 
fish that had fallen in a shower at that place ; many of 
these were observed springing about upon the grass in 
front of the house, immediately after the storm. The 
letter (which was read before the Linnaean Society) 
was accompanied by a drawing of one of the fish, taken 
from life at the moment: it was a small species of 
cyprintts, two inches and a quarter long, green above, 
silvery white below, with broad, lateral, bright red 
lines. 

In our own land there are not wanting instances 
bearing on this point ; and it is probable that these 
accounts have been extensively disbelieved, as much 
on account of their rarity as of their apparent mar- 
vellousness. The following narration, while it indi- 
cates what was in all probability a fact, includes an 
hypothesis which does not necessarily belong to it, and 
which may have interfered with the reception of the 
narration itself* it is from Hasted's * History of Kent/ 
" About Easter, 1666, in the parish of Stanstead, which 
is a considerable distance from the sea or any branch 
of it, and a place where there are no fish-ponds, and 
rather a scarcity of water, a pasture-field was scat- 
tered all over with small fish, in quantity about a 
bushel, supposed to have been rained down from a 
cloud, there having been at the time a great tempest 
of thunder, rain, and wind. The fish were about the 
size of a man's little finger. Some were like small, 
whitings, others like sprats ; and some smaller, like 
smelts. Several of these fish were sold publicly at 
Maidstone and Dartford." The hypothesis here is 
evidently that the fish ;had been " rained down from 
a cloud ;" one which certainly taxes the powers of 
belief. 

In the year 1830 the following appeared in a local 
Scotch newspaper :— " On the 9th of March, 1830, the 
inhabitants of the island of Ula, in Argyllshire, after a 



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day of very Hard rain, were surprised to find numbers 
of small herrings strewed over the ^fields, perfectly 
fresh, and some of them exhibiting signs of life." 

Now all these accounts become explicable if we 
presuppose the occurrence of a violent storm of wind ; 
and it is observable that nearly all tl>c accounts agree 
in stating that high and strong wind accompanied or 
preceded the phenomenon noticed. A very violent 
wind, driving obliquely over the surface of a river, may 
be able to carry along with it the smaller and lighter 
fish swimming near the surface (and they are all*/;ia// 
which are said to fall " with rain *), leaving the heavier 
ones behind, and depositing the lighter ones on dry 
land, as soon as the force of the blast becomes propor- 
tionably less than the weight of tho fish. A writer on 
this subject in Reess •Cyclopaedia* says:— "The 
raining of fishes has been a prodigy much talked of in 
France, where the streets of a town at some distance 
from Paris, after a terrible hurricane in the night, 
which tore up trees, blew down houses, &c., were 
found in a manner covered with fishes of various sizes. 
Nobody here made any doubt of these having fallen 
from tne clouds ; nor did the absurdity of fish of five 
or six inches long being generated in the air at all 
startle the people, or shake their belief in the miracle, 
till they found upon inquiry, that a very well-stocked 
fish-pond, which stood on an eminence in the neigh- 
bourhood, had been blown dry by the hurricane, and 
only the great fish left at the bottom of it, all the 
smaller fry having been tossed into the streets." 

It is probable that this last example would be found 
illustrative of a large proportion of the cases recorded ; 
since it is not necessary to the truth of the accounts 
that the fish should have fallen near a pond or stream. 
A high wind may at the same time be so fierce and so 
long continued as to carry the fish or any other bodies 
wafted with it to a great distance. A curious instance 
has been recorded by Mr. Fairholme, who wrote on 
this subject in the * Asiatic Journal ;' which, though not 
relating immediately to fish, will show how articles 
may be suspended for a time in the air by the action of 
the wind : — " I remember on one occasion, in the midst 
of the most perfect tranquillity, and in a very sheltered 
garden in the south of Scotland, seeing a quantity of 
clothes, which had been spread to dry on a smooth bowl- 
ing-green, suddenly thrown into the utmost confusion, 
and some of the articles carried up into the air so high 
as to be nearly lost to view. They were watched by 
myself and others for upwards of half an hour, and 
were found next day at a distance of three miles." 

This example will serve to illustrate not so much 
the effect of a direct and rushing wind, as another wind 
to which these results have also been referred, viz. a 
whirlwind. These extraordinary phenomena, occa- 
sioned probably by sudden irregularities in the tempe- 
rature and electrical condition of the air, manifest them- 
selves in a violent spiral aerial current, whirling up- 
wards with great rapidity, and carrying up within their 
vortex any small or light bodies which may be within 
their circuit. If this should occur at sea, an immense 
volume of water is carried up at the same time, forming 
what is called a water-spout ; and it is unquestionable 
that if water can be thus drawn up, small fishes may 
be similarly affected. If the spiral current of air, 
whether including water within it or not, remain sta- 
tionary above the spot where it was formed, then what- 
ever was drawn up with it will after a time be preci- 
pitated nearly to the same point as that from wnence 
it was taken ; but if the whirlwind or water-spout itself 
moves onward, then the contained matters will be car- 
ried with it, until the force of the blast dies away, and 
the substances are precipitated to the ground simply by 
their own gravity. Whirlwinds of this kind are very 
common in India; and it seems consistent with all the 



details hitherto recorded, that when fishes, either alive 
or dead, are seen to fall to the ground, they have been 
wafted from some sea, lake, river, or pona, by one of 
these two agencies — either a powerful wind, which 
by sheer force drove the fisTi out of their watery ele- 
ment ; or by a whirlwind, which drew the water and the 
fish upward in its vortex by a species of suction, and 
then wafted them to a considerable distance before pre- 
cipitation. 

The lovers of the marvellous are wont to talk of the 
raining of frogs, the raining of stones, the raining of 
blood, and many other astounding matters of a similar 
kind ; but, as may be well supposed, the details admit 
of interpretation very different from the popular one. 
Swammerdam relates the following circumstance as 
having occurred at the Hague in KtfO : — " One morn- 
ing the whole town was in an uproar on finding their 
lakes and ditches full of a red liquid, which was with 
the common consent of the vulgar believed to be blood. 
The lakes were known to be full of water the night be- 
fore ; and it was therefore deemed a logical inference 
that there must have been a shower of blood during 
the night. A physician, however, went down to one 
of the ditches, and took home from thence a quantity 
of this blood-coloured liquid: he examined it by the 
microscope, and found that the water was water still, 
and had not at all changed its colour; but that it 
swarmed with a prodigious number of small red ani- 
mals, all alive, and very nimble in their motions, whose 
colour and number gave a red tinge to the whole body 
of the water they lived in, when viewed from a distance. 
The certainty* however, that this was the case did not 
persuade the Hollanders to renounce the marvel : they 
came to the conclusion that the sudden appearance of 
such a number of animals was as great a prodigy as the 
raining of blood would have been ; and for generations 
afterwards it was regarded as a portent and foretelling 
of the scene of war and devastation brought about in 
Holland by Louis XIV." 

The appearance of the insects in such numbers is 
accounted for thus (for as no one appears to have as- 
serted that he saw blood-coloured liquid fall from the 
clouds, we are spared the necessity of any further ex- 
planation) : these little animals arc the pulices arbo- 
rescentes of Swamincrdam, or the water-fleas with 
branched horns. These creatures arc of a reddish- 
yellow or flame colour. They live about the sides of 
ditches, under weeds, and among the mud, and are 
therefore not generally very visible. At about the end 
of May and the beginning of June, however, these 
little animals leave their recesses, to float loose about 
the water, and by that means become visible by the 
colour they impart to the water. It has been remarked 
that it is always at this season that the ignorant have 
been alarmed by the notion of blood-rain. 

High winds, little red insects, and meteorolites will 
probably exhaust the list, and explain the causes, of 
what are termed M preternatural rains.'* 



Vineyard Cultivation, — The vineyard is but a garden. The 
hand-labour is incessant in all the different operations; and vet 
it is not, like the hand-labour in a garden, applied to but a few 
fruit-trees, or plants, or beds, with which you form a kind of 
acquaintance that ripens into friendship in the course of years. 
The vines are too many, and each too insignificant by itself, for 
that kind of pleasure; and the land under vines being always 
under vines, you do not get intimate either with the acres or 
beds, as in corn and grass husbandry, nor with the individual 
plants, as in gardening. Then the eye has nothing agreeable to 
dwell upon in the dotty effect of a field of vines, and the ear 
misses the rural music of a farm — the crowing of the cock — the 
lowing of the cattle — the sound of the flail. It is, in spite of 
poetry, a dull manufacture. — Mr* Jjiiwf* NoUt. 



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[The Temple Church, from the Entrance Doorway.] 



THE TEMPLE CHURCH. 

[Continued from page 127.] 

A very deeply recessed and sumptuously enriched 
Norman gateway leads from the low sunken porch at 
the extremity of the western extremity of the building 
into the Round, and at once places before us the view 
seen above. Among the variety of objects that press 
upon the attention k is difficult to fix upon any one. 
There are the painted windows at the farthest end, 
appearing like some sudden discovery of one of the 
richest works of the olden time that we have so often 
read of; and the painted roof, scarcely less splendid, 
and from its novelty still more interesting : nearer 
still there are the three beautiful arches, which rather 
connect than divide the two portions of the structure 
— the very arches so mercilessly closed up and dis- 
figured : whilst around us is the beautiful aisle with 
its groined roof, supported at intervals by stately 
dark marble pillars, that rise conspicuously from 
the arcade of pointed arches decorating the lower 
part of the wall ; and, lastly, in the centre, divided 
from the aisle by the circle of tall clustered marble 
columns that support its lofty roof, is the tower, or 
central portion ot the Round, with its series of arch- 
ways opening into the gallery, or Triforium ; — its 
clerestory, or range of windows, one of them — the 
gift of Mr. Willement — painted; and above, the 
roof, where the compartments formed by the bold 
groining are studded over with delicate blue orna- 

no. 707. 



ment8 on a kind of drab-like ground; the centre 
standing out from all the rest by its richer and more 
varied display of colours, surrounding a massive gilded 
boss. The painted window mentioned, with its deep 
rubies, and purples, and bronzes, represents Christ 
enthroned ; and the general design ot the decoration 
of the dome is borrowed from an existing ancient Si- 
cilian church. Among the features of interest in this 
part of the structure are the beads which decorate the 
arcade in the aisle, sixty-four in number, and which 
were probably intended to represent on one half-circle 
—that to the left— a state of purgatory, and on the 
other of relief from it, by the mediation of the Church. 
But as none of the heads are original, and some of 
them not even copies of the original designs, it is not 
easy to prove the truth of this hypothesis. But we 
perceive, first, that in other parte of the structure— 
the entrance archways to the aisles of the oblong — the 
opposing character of the two corbel faces in each 
arch bears evident reference to an idea of this kind ; 
and, secondly, the half-circle that was most carefully 
restored— the left or northern — presents but com- 
paratively few exceptions to the painful character ex- 
pressed by all the heads on that side, and which has 
been marked throughout by the nicest discrimination 
of the different kinds of manifestation of pain ap- 
plicable to so many different classes of individuals. 
The philosopher looks as though he would pluck out 
the heart of even this mystery ; the satirist or misan- 
thrope as though he had as much contempt for pur- 

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galory as all other things, even while he felt its 
power ; on the other hand, where the individuals re- 
presented arc less intellectual, and more sensual, the 
appropriate expressions are no less strikingly deve- 
loped : here, beauty is distorted into a thing it would 
tremble but to see ; here one can hardly avoid feeling 
the claws and teeth of the animal tearing the ear: 
whilst there is one head, combining a mingled sensa- 
tion of physical and mental horror which surpasses 
description — it is ghastly— fearful!— it is as if all the 
worst passions of man's nature had been gathered to- 
gether in pne point and then smitten with some in- 
tolerable agony. But perhaps the most interesting of 
the whole is the last of this circle, a female's face — 
probably a mother, who forgets even the anguish of 
her own sufferings in the passionate, yet quiet, be- 
cause hopeless, misery of reflecting on those she has 
left behind. Mixed with the heads we have referred 
to are a great variety of grotesques, and the whole are 
highly deserving of attention. According to Mr. Ad- 
dison, the author of the recent * History of the Knights 
Templars,' an sivade and cornice similarly decorated 
with heads have been found in the ruins of the Tem- 
ple churches at Nice, and in their famous fortress near 
Mount Carmel, known as the " Pilgrims' Castle." We 
must not omit to add that the original heads, after be- 
ing carelessly, because inartistically copied, were used 
in the builder's yard to slip beneath cart-wheels occa- 
sionally ! And that is but about eighteen years ago. 

The pavement of the Temple Church has attracted 
much attention, and deservedly. On removing the 
rubbish beneath the late pavement, patches of the 
former (Jecorated one were found ; and, accordingly, 
the Benchers, in pursuance of the rule that has con- 
stantly guided them, determined to restore the old en- 
caustic tile. And as they had the old quarry at Pur- 
beck re-opened purposely for the supply of the right 
material for the new pillars which it was found ncces- 
saary to have in the Round, so did they seek and ob- 
tain permission to have the flooring of the Chapter- 
house at Westminster Abbey taken up, to learn the 
exact nature of the decorations used at the period in 
question, and then made arrangements to nave the 
tiles manufactured accordingly in Staffordshire. The 
prevailing colour is yellow or amber, forming the de- 
corative parts, upon a dark red ground. The decora- 
tions combine a great variety of heraldic and pictorial 
subjects, as animals with their tails linked together, 
cocks and foxes, figures playing upon musical instru- 
ments ; but the chief ornaments are the symbols of the 
two Societies of the Temple, the Lamb and the Pe- 
gasus : the former founded on the device of St. John ; 
and the latter, it is supposed, from the interesting cir- 
cumstance before mentioned concerning the founder 
of the Order, and the poverty which for a time pre- 
vailed among the templars. Mr. Willement, in his 
'Report to the Societies on the subject of the Decora- 
tions of the Church,' which were confided entirely to 
him, says, "It very probably took its rise from the 
earliest device of the Knights Templars, namely, the 
two knights on the same horse. From an imperfect 
impression of an imperfect seal, these two knights 
were by mistake converted into two wings, which*thc 
classic taste of the reign of Elizabeth might induce the 
Society to think a very pretty device, and the error has 
been, without further examination, perpetuated/' A 
good joke in poetical guise has made these emblems 
noticeable ; the verses here following are said to have 
been first chalked up on the Temple gates : — 

As by the Templars' hold you go, 

The Horse and Lamb display *d, 
Id emblematic figures shew 

The merits of their trade. 



That clients may infer from thence 

How just is their profession — 
The Lamb sets forth their innocence, 

The Horse their expedition," &c. 

But, of all the objects of interest in the Round, the 
recumbent figures of the Crusaders, on the floor, most 
eminently deserve and justify examination. These 
but two years ago looked generally more like rude 
masses of worthless stone than anything else, the sur- 
face being extensively decayed — noses, fingers, swords, 
legs and feet every here and there missing— all deli- 
cacy of workmanship, such as expression in the faces, 
or minute points of costume in the garb, apparently 
lost. It was found, indeed, that they were too far gone 
for restoration. A trial, however, was permitted to be 
made on one of them — the exceedingly graceful figure 
that is nearest to the central walk of the second pair 
on the right hand — and the sculptor, Mr. Richardson, 
set to work. The paint and whitewash, in places a 
quarter of an inch thick, were first removed by means 
of a finely-pointed tool (washes of a sufficiently power- 
ful kind it was feared would be injurious to so de- 
cayed a surface), and the surface made clean ; a che- 
mical liquid was then forced into the stone to harden 
it, and, next, the restoring process begun. This con- 
sisted of two parts — filling up all the hollows (which 
were so numerous as to make the effigy appear like a 
honeycomb) with a composition exactly imitating the 
stone, and becoming immediately almost as hard ; and, 
secondly, of supplying the missing limbs and mem- 
bers by the authority of those which remained, worked 
in the same material, and joined by the composition. 
Except in very urgent cases, the original surface, how- 
ever decayed, was left untouched, and no restorations 
were made without absolute evidence that they were 
restorations ; and yet the result is the very beautiful 
and noble effigies which once more grace the floor of 
the Temple Cnurch in their pristine state ; one only 
exception being made as to tne coloured decorations 
in painting and gilding, which it was discovered by 
Mr. Richardson, in cleaning them, they had formerly 
borne, particularly those which had not been wrought 
in Purbeck marble : the effigy of William Marshal 
the younger seems to have been most rich in this re- 
spect ; traces were found on it of a crimson surcoat, 
gilded armour, and of glass enamelling about the 
cushion. 

Whilst upon this subject we may observe that other 
interesting discoveries of a similar kind were made 
during the recent restoration. Some of the corbel 
heads before referred to in the intervening archways 
of the aisles had glass beads for eyes ; and only a week 
before the re-opening of the church a beautiful little 
seraph-like head was discovered at the corner of one of 
these archways (between the Round and the southern 
aisle) which had been most delicately coloured : from 
the traces remaining, it could be discerned that the 
eyes had been blue, the lips tinged with vermilion, and 
the cheek with a flesh-colour, and that the graceful 
flowing hair had been gilded. How all this reminds 
one of the custom of the Greeks, even in the purest 
eras of art among them ; and of the extraordinary length 
to which they carried this species of decoration in works 
which to our eyes seem so beautiful in their naked 
simplicity, that they could only be impaired by such 
additions. With them we find metal, precious stones, 
or imitations of precious stones, used for the eyes of 
their busts and statues, as well as glass ; we find them 
also inlaying the lips. Different-coloured marbles 
were used in the same work, and compositions of metal 
formed to harmonize in hue with the feeling intended 
to be expressed by the sculptor. One of the most in- 
teresting examples of the latter is that mentioned 
by Plutarch, a statue of Jocasta, wife of Laius, king of 



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Thebes, by the sculptor Silanion, in which the queen 
Mas represented dying. By an ingenious mixture of 
the metals of whicn it was formed, and, it is said, chiefly 
by the addition of silver, a pallid tone was produced, 
which greatly increased the intensity of the expression 
in the features. By similar means, no doubt, was pro- 
duced the bronze statue of Cupid by Praxiteles, so 
much admired by Callistratus for its elegance of posi- 
tion, the arrangement of the hair, its smile, the fire in 
the eyes, and the vivid blush in the countenance; and 
the iron statue of Athamas at Delphi, mentioned by 
Pliny, which represented the king, sitting, after the 
murder of his son : this work, it appears, was not en- 
tirely of iron, for the artist Aristonidas, wishing to 
express the effect of confusion and remorse in the 
countenance of the king, used a mixture of iron and 
bronze, which should imitate in some measure the 
blush of shame.* Seeing then that we have such high 
authorities for the coloured decorations of statues, and 
that these heads in the Temple Church were coloured, 
it may almost be doubted whether the restoring pro- 
cess should have stopped short of this point : that is, 
supposing there were sufficient materials to have re- 
stored it rightly. To return : the effigies, nine in num- 
ber, lie four on each side of the central walk, in a 
double line, the ninth being farther off* on the right 
against the wall, in the aisle, and corresponding in 
position with the simply but elegantly carved stone 
coffin-lid in the opposite aisle. As far as it has been 
found possible to identify the effigies, five out of the 
nine are assigned as follows : — Of the first pair on 
the right, the farthest figure is that of the great Pro- 
tector Pembroke, whose statesman -like policy freed 
England from the foreigners whom the revolted barons 
had introduced in self-defence against John, and re- 
stored at the same time to the throne of the young Henry 
the allegiance of hearts that had been long alienated 
from it ; the other and nearer figure by his side is one 
of Pembroke's sons, William Marshal, the Younger, 
who overthrew Llewellyn of Wales, and was one of 
John's hated opponents, a supporter of the Great 
Charter, although John's own son-in-law, having mar- 
ried his daughter. Henry III. followed his funeral to 
the grave here, and was so affected that he could not 
restrain his grief from being visible to all the by- 
standers. Of the second pair the foremost is unknown, 
the other is the effigy of Gilbert Marshal, another of 
the Protector's sons, who died at a tournament which he 
had instituted, through a fall from a runaway horse. 
The figure still farther to the right, De Roos's, an ex- 
quisitely beautiful piece of sculpture, refers also to one 
of the great men or the Charter. On the left, one only 
of the figures has been recognised, the foremost of 
the two nearest the western door, which is Geoffrey de 
Magnaville's, a grandson of the Norman follower of 
William, who so distinguished himself at the battle of 
Hastings, and whose history was of no ordinary kind. 
During the civil war in tne reign of Stephen, Mag- 
naville, having deserted the cause of the latter, held 
the Tower for Maud, and was attacked there by the 
citizens, without success ; but being taken prisoner at 
St. Albans, in 1443, was compelled to give it up with 
his other possessions. From that time De Magnaville 
seems to have grown tired of rapine and plunder on 
another's account (for much of the civil war at that 
time seems to have been little else than rapine and 
plunder), and to have determined to act entirely upon 
Iris own, respecting no party — treating the Church 
no better than the laity. One of his exploits was rob- 
bing Romscy Abbey of its consecrated vessels, among 
other valuables. He was killed by an arrow, which 
pierced his brain, as he was besieging the royal castle 
at Burwell, the archer's aim having been probably in- 
* See ' Penny Cyclopaedia,' article Sculpture. 



vited by his removing his helmet on account of the heat 
of the day. Of course he had been excommunicated 
for such deeds as that before mentioned, and in conse- 
quence no one dared to bury him in consecrated 
ground. The Templars, however, with whom no 
doubt he was connected as a kind of lay-brother and 
benefactor, wrapped his dead body in their habit, placed 
it in a leaden coffin, and then suspended it from one 
of the trees in their garden here. Some years after, 
absolution was obtained, and the body buried in the 
porch before the entrance doorway, and there two 
bodies were recently found, one of them no doubt his. 
Of the unknown figures, one very probably is the effigy 
of William Plantagenet, fifth son of Henry III., who 
was buried in the Temple Church. Those of the nine 
figures which have tne legs crossed are, we need 
hardly mention, persons who had joined in the Ci u- 
sades, or were under vows to do so. The whole form 
the most valuable series of examples of military cos- 
tume that we possess, from the days of Stephen to those 
of Henry III. 

[To be continued. 



ESSAYS ON THE LIVES OF REMARKABLE 
PAINTERS.— No. VI. 

Giotto and his Scholars. 

[Continued from p. 122.] 

Giotto's personal character and disposition had no 
small part in the revolution he effected. In the union 
of endowments which seldom meet together ;n the 
same individual—extraordinary inventive and poetical 
genius, with sound, practical, energetic sense, and un- 
tiring activity and energy — Giotto resembled Rubens ; 
and only this rare combination could have enabled him 
to fling off so completely all the fetters of the old style, 
and to have executed the amazing number of works 
which are with reason attributed to him. His charac- 
ter was as independent in other matters as in his own 
art. He seems to have had little reverence for re- 
ceived opinions about anything, and was singularly 
free from the superstitious enthusiasm of the times in 
which he lived, although he lent his powers to embo- 
dying that very superstition. Perhaps the very cir- 
cumstance of his being employed in painting the in- 
teriors of churches and monasteries opened to his 
acute, discerning, and independent mind reflections 
which took away some of the respect for the mysteries 
they concealed. There is extant a poem of Giotto's, en- 
titled ' A Song against Poverty,' which becomes still 
more piquante in itself, and expressive of the peculiar 
turn of Giotto's mind, when we remember that he had 
painted the Glorification of Poverty as the Bride of St. 
Francis, and that in those days songs in praise of po- 
verty were as fashionable as devotion to St. Francis, 
the •• Patriarch of poverty." Giotto was celebrated, 
too, for his joyous temper, for his witty and satirical 
repartees, and seems to have been as careful of his 
worldly goods as he was diligent in acquiring them. 
Boccaccio relates an anecdote of him, not very impor- 
tant ; but as it contains several traits which are divert- 
ingly characteristic, we will give it here : — 

" Fair and dear ladies !" (Thus the novelist is wont 
to address his auditory.) " It is a wondrous thing to sec 
how oftentimes nature hath been pleased to hide within 
the most misshapen forms the most wondrous treasures 
of soul, which is evident in the persons of two of our 
fellow-citizens, of whom I shall now briefly discourse 
to you. Messer Forese da Rabatta, the advocate, be- 
ing a personage of the most extraordinary wisdom, and 
learned in the law above all others, yet was in body 
mean and deformed, with, thereunto, a flat, currish 
(ricagnato) physiognomy ; and Messer Giotto, who was 

S 2 



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not in face or person one whit better favoured than 
the said Messer Forese, had a genius of that excel- 
lence, that there was nothing which nature (who is the 
mother of all things) could bring forth, but he with his 
ready pencil would so wondrously imitate it, that it 
seemed not only similar, but the same ; thus deluding 
the visual sense of men, so that they deemed that what 
was only pictured before them did in reality exist. 
And seeing that through Giotto that art was restored 
to light which had been for many centuries buried 
(through fault of those who, in painting, addressed 
themselves to please the eye of the vulgar, and not to 
content the understanding of the wise), I esteem him 
worthy to be placed among those who have made fa- 
mous and glorious this our city of Florence. Never- 
theless, though so great a man in his art, he was but 
little in person, and, as I have said, ill-favoured 
enough. Now it happened that Messer Forese and 
Giotto had possessions in land in Mugello, which is on 
the road leading from Florence to Bologna, and thither 
they rode one day on their respective affairs, Messer 
Forese being mounted on a sorry hired jade, and the 
other in no better case. It was summer, and the rain 
came on suddenly and furiously, and they hastened to 
take shelter in the house of a peasant thereabouts who 
was known to them ; but the storm still prevailing, 
they, considering that they must of necessity return to 
Florence the same day, borrowed from the peasant two 
old, worn-out pilgrim-cloaks and two rusty old hats, 
and so they set forth. They had not proceeded very 
far when tney found themselves wet through with the 
rain, and all bespattered with the mud ; but after a 
while, the weather clearing in some small degree, they 
took heart, and from being silent they began to dis- 
course of various matters. Messer Forese having list- 
ened awhile to Giotto, who was in truth a man most 
eloquent and lively in speech, could not help casting 
on him a glance as he rode alongside, and considering 
him from nead to foot thus wet, ragged, and splashed 
all over, and thus mounted and accoutred, and not 
taking his own appearance into account, he laughed 
aloud. *0 Giotto,' said he, jeeringly, 'if a stranger 
were now to meet us, could he, looking on you, be- 
lieve it possible that you were the greatest painter in 
the whole world ?' « Certainly,* quoth Giotto, with a 
side glance at his companion, * certainly ; if looking 
upon your worship he could believe it possible that you 
knew your ABC!' Whereupon Messer Forese could 
not but confess that he had been paid in his own 
coin." . 

This is one of many humorous repartees which 
tradition has preserved, and an instance of that readi- 
ness of wit — tnat prontezza — for which Giotto was ad- 
mired ; in fact he seems to have presented in himself, 
in the union of depth and liveliness, of poetical fancy 
and worldly sense, of independent spirit and polished 
suavity, an epitome of the national character of the 
Florentines, such as Sismondi has drawn it. We learn, 
from the hyperboles used by Boccaccio, the sort of rap- 
turous surprise which Giotto's imitation of life caused 
in his imaginative contemporaries, and,which assuredly 
they would be far from exciting now ; and the unce- 
remonious description of his person becomes more 
amusing when we recollect that Boccaccio must have 
lived in personal intercourse with the painter, as did 
Petrarch and Dante. When Giotto died in 1336, his 
friend Dante had been dead three years ; Petrarch was 
thirty-two, and Boccaccio twenty- three years of age. 
When Petrarch died in 1374, he left to his friend, 
Francesco da Carrara, Lord of Padua, a Madonna, 
painted by Giotto, as a most precious legacy, " a won- 
derful piece of work, of which the ignorant might 
overlook the beauties, but which the learned must re- 
gard with amazement." All writers who treat of the 



ancient glories of Florence — Florence the beautiful — 
Florence the free — from Villani down to Sismondi, 
count Giotto in the roll of her greatest men. Anti- 
quaries and connoisseurs in art search out and study the 
relics which remain to us, and recognise in them the 
dawn of that splendour which reached its zenith in the 
beginning of the sixteenth century : while to the philo- 
sophic observer Giotto appears as one of those few 
heaven-endowed beings, whose development springs 
from a source within — one of those unconscious instru- 
ments in the hand of Providence, who, in seeking their 
own profit and delight through the expansion of their 
own faculties, make unawares a step forward in human 
culture, lend a new impulse to human aspirations, and, 
like the •« bright morning star, day's harDinger," may 
be merged in the succeeding radiance, but never for- 
gotten. 

Before we pass on to the scholars and imitators of 
Giotto, who during the next century filled all Italy 
with schools of art — we may here make mention of 
one or two of his contemporaries, not so much for any 
performances left behind them, but because they have 
been commemorated by men more celebrated than 
themselves, and survivo embalmed in their works as 
•' flies in amber." Dante has mentioned, in his • Pur- 
gatorio,' two painters of the time, famous for their 
miniature illustrations of Missals and MSS. Before the 
invention of printing, and indeed for some time after, 
this was an important branch of art : it flourished from 
the days of Charlemagne to those of Charles V., and 
was a source of honour as well as riches to the lay- 
men who practised it. Many, however, of the most 
beautiful specimens of illuminated manuscripts are the 
work of the Benedictine monks, who laboured in the 
silence and seclusion of their convents, and who yielded 
to their community most of the honour and all the 
profit : this was not the case with Oderigi, whom Dante 
nas represented as expiating in purgatory his excessive 
vanity as a painter, and humbly giving the palm to 
another, Franco Bolognese, of whom there remains no 
relic but a Madonna, engraved in Rosini's ' Storia della 
Pittura.' He retains, however, a name as the founder 
of the early Bolognese school. The fame of Buffal- 
macco as a jovial companion, and the tales told in 
Boccaccio of his many inventions and the tricks he 
played on his brother-painter the simple C aland ri no, 
nave survived almost every relic of his pencil. Yet 
he appears to have been a good painter of that time, 
and to have imitated, in his later works, the graceful 
simplicity of Giotto :* he had also much honour and 
sufficient employment, but having been more intent 
on spending than earning, he died miserably poor in 
1340. 

Cavallini studied under Giotto at Rome, but seems 
never to have wholly laid aside the Greekish style in 
which he had been first educated. He was a man of 
extreme simplicity and sanctity of mind and manners, 
and felt some scruples in condemning as an artist the 
Madonnas before wnich he had knelt in prayer : this feel- 
ing of earnest piety he communicated to all his works. 
There is bv him a picture of the Annunciation pre- 
served in tne church of St. Mark at Florence, in which 
the expression of piety and modesty in the Virgin, and 
of reverence in the kneeling ange), is perfectly beauti- 
ful : the same devout feeling enabled him to rise to the 
sublime in a grand picture of the Crucifixion which 
he painted in the church of Assisi, and which is 
reckoned one of the most important monuments of the 
Giotto school— the resignation of the divine sufferer, 

* An elegant little figure of St Catherine, attributed to Buf- 
falmacco, is engraved in Rosini, p. 52. A picture of SL 
Ursula, an early work of the same painter, is quite Byzantine in 
style. The Frescoes in the Campo Santo at Pisa, so long attri- 
buted to him, are by another hand. (See Kugler and Rumohr.') 



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the lamenting angels, the fainting Virgin, the groups 
of Roman soldiers, are all painted with a truth and 
feeling quite wonderful for the time. Engravings 
after Cavallini may he found in Ottley's * Early Italian 
School,' and in Rosini (p. 21). He became the pupil of 
Giotto when nearly forty years old, and survived him 
only a short time, dying in 1340. With Cavallini 
begins the list of painters of the Roman school, after- 
wards so illustrious. Among the contemporaries of 
Giotto we must refer once more to Duccio of Sienna. 
Though an established painter in his native city when 
Giotto was a child, his later works show that the in- 
fluence of that young and daring spirit had given a new 
impulse to his mind. His best picture, still preserved, 
and described with enthusiasm in Kugler s ' Hand- 
book/ was painted in 1311. Duccio died very old, 
about 1339. 




ECONOMICAL USES OF THE MAPLE. 

Among the trees which abound in the magnificent 
forests of North America the Maple deserves notice on 
account of the large variety of uses to which it is ap- 
plied in the arts of life. 

There are about fourteen species of this tree worthy 
of enumeration of which one half are European and 
the other half American. The Maples, in general, are 
lofty and beautiful trees. Capable of enduring an in- 
tense degree of cold, they form, in northern countries 
extensive forests, which seem to occupy a .medium 
place between those of the Beech, the Spruce, the 
Larch, and the Fir, on one side, and those of the Chestnut 
and the Oak on the other. In America the Maple is 
found principally between the latitudes of 43° and 46°. 
As we do not propose to enter upon the botanical cha- 
racters of the different species, it will not be necessary 
to classify them in any particular order ; but it will 
suffice to take the useful applications, one by one, and 
enumerate the species whicn yield them. We will be- 



gin with the Maple in respect of the wood or timber 
which it yields ; taking as our principal guides Mi- 
chaux (' Arbres. Forestieres de PAmerique Septentrio- 
nale ') and Loudon (« Arboretum et Fruticetum Bri- 
tannicum "). 

The Sugar-Maple, whose name is derived from a 
circumstance which we shall notice further on, is one 
of the finest of this genus. In America it sometimes 
reaches a height of seventy or eighty feet, and is a very 
noble-looking tree. It has been estimated that in the 
northern parts of the states of Pennsylvania and New 
York there are ten millions of acres which produce 
these trees, in the proportion of about thirty to an acre. 

In the more Southern states it is nearly unknown. 
The wood, when cut, is white : but after being wrought 
and exposed some time to the light, it takes a rosy 
tinge. Its grain is fine and close, and when polished 
it has a silky lustre. In the States of Vermont, New 
Hampshire, and Maine, where the oak is not plentiful, 
the timber of the sugar-maple is substituted for it, in 
preference to that of the beech, the birch, and the elm. 
When perfectly seasoned, which requires a period of 
two or three years, it is used by wheelwrights for axle- 
trees and spokes and similar purposes. It is also em- 
ployed in tne manufacture of Windsor chairs. In the 
country ,"where the houses are wholly of wood, this kind 
of timber is used for the framework ; and in the district 
of Maine it is preferred to beech for the keels of ves- 
sels, as it furnishes longer pieces. Used in combina- 
tion with beech and yellow pine, it forms the lower 
frame of ships, immersed in the water. 

The Red-flowering or Scarlet Maple is another 
American species, known in different parts of the 
United States by the various names of Swamp Maple, 
Soft Maple, and the two others just mentioned. It is 
found very extensively from Canada in the north to 
Florida in the south, located generally in swamp or 
on the borders of creeks. There are in Philadelphia 
and New Jersey extensive marshes called " Maple 
Swamps/* exclusively covered with it ; the trees rising 
to a height of seventy or eighty feet, and measuring 
three or four feet in diameter. It has been observed 
that in descending towards the mouths of the large 
American rivers, tne red-maple is the last tree found 
in the swamps, the tree diminishing in size as the soil 
becomes impregnated with salt. The wood of this tree 
is applied to various uses in America. It has a fine 
and close grain, is easily wrought in the lathe, and ac- 
quires by polishing a glossy and silken surface. It is 
very largely used in the manufacture of Windsor 
chairs. The pieces are prepared in the country ; and 
so considerable is the demand, that boats laden with 
them frequently arrive at New Y ork and Philadelphia, 
where extensive factories are carried on, the manufac- 
tured articles being furnished to the neighbouring 
towns, and also exported to the West Indies. The 
whole framework of japanned chairs in America is 
made of this wood, the backs being made of hickory. 
The frame, the nave, and the spokes of spinning-wheels 
are made of the red manic. At Philadelphia it is the 
only wood used for saddle-trees ; and in the country it 
is preferred to most others for yokes, shovels, and 
wooden dishes, which are brought to market by the 
country-people, and purchased by the dealers in 
wooden-ware. Before mahogany became generally 
fashionable in the United States, tne best furniture in 
use was made of the red maple ; and bedsteads arc 
still made of it, which are said to equal the finest ma- 
hogany in richness and 111811*0. It sometimes happens 
that in very old trees of this species the grain, instead 
of following a perpendicular direction, is undulated, 
whence it obtains the name of " curled maple ;" and 
from the toughness and strength which this tex- 
ture superadds to the natural lightness and elegance of 



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the wood, such specimens are much sought after for 
making the stocks of fowling-pieces and rifles. 

The White Maple, like the Red, is an American spe- 
cies. It is found on the banks of all the rivers which flow 
from the mountains of the interior to the ocean ; and is 
particularly abundant in the Western states, about the 
Ohio and its tributary streams. "There," says Mi- 
ehaux, " sometimes alone, and sometimes mingled with 
the willow, which is found along all these waters, it 
contributes singularly by its magnificent foliage to the 
embellishment of the scene. The brilliant white of 
the leaves beneath forms a striking contrast with the 
bright green above, and the alternate reflections of the 
two surfaces in the water heightens the beauty of this 
wonderful moving mirror, and aids in forming an en- 
chanting picture, which, during my long excursions in 
a canoe in these regions of solitude and silence, I con- 
templated with unwearied admiration." Unlike the 
Red Maple, the White species is found on the banks 
of such rivers only as have limpid waters and a gra- 
velly bed, and never in swampy ground. The wood 
of this species is very white and of a fine grain ; but it 
is softer and lighter than that of the other species. 
Wooden bowls are sometimes made of it ; and cabinet- 
makers frequently employ it in their operations. 

The Sycamore Maple, or Great Maple, is a species 
which grows abundantly in various parts of Europe, 
such as Switzerland, Germany, and Italy. Its timber, 
when the tree is young, is white ; but as it grows older 
the tint changes to yellow or even brown. It is com- 
pact and firm, without being very hard ; of a fine grain, 
sometimes veined ; susceptible of a high polish ; and 
easily worked either at the bench or 'the lathe. In 
France and Germany this wood is much sought after 
by wheelwrights, cabinet makers, turners, sculptors in 
wood, manufacturers of musical-instruments — especi- 
ally of violins, and makers of toys and other small 
wares. It is also used for pestles, tables, rollers, spoons, 
plates, and a considerable variety of household articles ; 
as likewise for gun-stocks. The wood of the British 
trees belonging to this species is used by our manu- 
facturers for many of the purposes here enumerated, 
as well as for cider-presses. The Scotch wooden dishes 
and spoons, so much used in bygone times, were fre- 
quently made of this wood. 

The Rose-leaved Maple, a native of the Jura Alps 
and the Pyrenees, yields a very hard and compact kind 
of wood, free from sap-wood, not easily split, and so 
homogeneous in its texture, that it is almost impossible 
to distinguish the annual layers: it is white lightly 
shaded with lemon-colour, sometimes exhibiting flashes 
or shades of red, and it takes a fine polish. This wood 
is much used by wheelwrights in. France. 

There are other species whose wood is more or less 
employed in the arts, but which may be dismissed in 
a few words ; such as the round-leaved maple, a native 
species of North America, of which the fine, white, 
tough, and close-grained wood is much used by the 
Americans, and of which the slender branches are em- 
ployed by the native Indians to make the hoops of their 
scoop-nets, used for taking salmon at the rapids and 
in the contracted parts of rivers; the Montpelier 
maple, found in southern France, Spain, and Italy, 
the hard and heavy wood of which is used in France 
by turners and cabinet-makers ; and the common or 
field maple, found in various parts of Europe and Asia, 
and the wood of which is used for similar purposes as 
that of the species just named. 

But besides the applications of maple-wood for pur- 
poses of strength and service, there are features pre- 
sented by several of the species which admirably 
qualify them for use as ornamental or * fancy ' woods, 
either in tl.e bulk or more frequently in the form of a 
thin veneer laid on a foundation of less valuable wood. 



We have before alluded to an undulating arrangement 
which is sometimes observable in old trees of the red 
maple species, and of the strength which this structure 
gives to the wood. It is said that not more than one 
tree in a hundred of the species presents these pecu- 
liarities; but, when they do occur, the specimens are 
much prized for the ornamental character of the wood. 
The serpentine direction of the fibre, which renders 
the wood difficult to split and to work, produces, in 
the hands of a skilful mechanic, the most beautiful 
effects of light and shade. These effects are rendered 
more striking if, after smoothing the surface of the 
wood with a double-ironed plane, it is rubbed with a 
little sulphuric acid, and afterwards with linseed oil. 
On examining it attentively, the varying shades are 
found to be owing to the irregular reflection of light, 
and are more sensibly perceived if the surface be 
viewed in different directions by candlelight. 

The sugar-maple, in like manner, yields wood which 
is highly valued for purposes of ornament. This wood 
exhibits two accidental forms in the arrangement of 
the fibre : of which the first consists in undulations 
like those in the curled wood of the red maple ; while 
the second arrangement, found only in old trees that 
arc still sound, and which appears to arise from an 
inflexion of the fibre from the circumference towards 
the centre, produces minute spots, sometimes con- 
tiguous and at other times wide apart. The more nu- 
merous the snots, the more beautiful and the more 
esteemed is tne wood. This variety is known to our 
cabinet-makers by the name of • biras-eyc maple,' and 
is much used for inlaying and veneering. Tne finest 
effect is produced when the logs are cut with the saw 
parallel to the concentric circles of the wood. 

Nearly all the kinds of maple- wood possess sufficient 
beauty to be used as veneers, but the two preceding are 
the most prized. Specimens of the large-leaved maple 
have, indeed, been seen, of which the wood exhibited 
a grain scarcely inferior in beauty to the finest satin- 
wood. Many kinds exhibit knots, spots, and curls, 
which cause them to be used in bulk or solid pieces 
for ornamental purposes. For instance, the root of 
the sycamore-maple often exhibits a veined texture 
which leads to its employment in curious articles of 
cabinet-work : the roots, too, of the Italian or Opal 
maple, especially of those trees which have been often 
cut, are very much sought after on account of their 
hardness, and their curious knots and blotches, which . 
render them suitable for making snuff-boxes and simi- 
lar articles ; and lastly, the roots of the common or 
field maple are similarly sought for and employed. 

In a country like England, where coal forms the 
great bulk of the fuel employed — not only for do- 
mestic use, but also in manufactures — the relative 
qualities of different woods as fuel, and as materials 
for charcoal, arc not so much attended to as in most 
other countries ; and consequently we find, in descrip- 
tions of foreign trees written by foreigners, that tne 
value of any particular tree as fuel is generally entered 
among its qualities. Such is the case with respect to 
the maple. A few examples will suffice. The char- 
coal obtained from the sugar-maple is said to be pre- 
ferred, in the forges of Vermont and Maine, to that 
obtained from any other kind of wood : the trees of 
this species in the States just named yield from their 
wood charcoal one-fifth heavier than that from similar 
trees grown farther south — a fact which shows the 
effect of climate. The wood of the Sycamore-maple is 
highly prized as fuel, both for the quantity of heat 
which it pives out, and the time that it continues 
burning : in the state both of wood and of charcoal, it 
is superior to beech as a fuel. Michaux says that the 
hatters of Pittsburg prefer the charcoal of the white 
maple wood to that of any other for heating their 



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boilers, under the impression that it' affords a more 
uniform and durable heat The wood of the common 
maple, whether "m its natural state or as a charcoal, 
makes excellent fuel ; whereas that of the red species 
has a bad reputation in America in respect to its burn- 
ing qualities. 

The leaves and young shoots of the maple are often 
brought more or less into use. Thus, Pallas informs 
us, while treating of the Tartarian maple, that the 
Cal mucks boil the fruit in water, and afterwards use 
it for food, mixed up with milk and butter. An 
American species, called the striped-bark maple, af- 
fords food to cattle in Nova Scotia, where the animals 
eat the leaves both in the green and dried state ; and 
in spring, when the buds begin to swell, both horses 
and cattle are turned into woods to browse on the 
young shoots. 

With respect to the manufacturing arts, the maple 
has hitherto chiefly been valuable in relation to the 
solid wood which constitutes the trunk ; but it is not 
improbable that various useful applications will here- 
after be made of the sap or juice. The cellular matter 
of the inner bark of the red iuaple,\vhich is of a dusky 
red colour, yields by boiling a purplish colour, which 
becomes very dark blue on the addition of sulphate of 
iron ; and this colour, mixed with a certain portion of 
alum in solution, is used in the provincial districts of 
America for dyeing black. The cellular integument 
of the white maple yields in a similar manner a black- 
dyeing material. The preparation of potash from the 
ashes of the sugar-maple is carried on most exten- 
sively in America, particularly in Upper Canada, in a 
manner which has been fully described by an eye- 
witness in our No. 573. 

In a domestic point of view, the extraction of sugar 
from the juice ot the maple is by far the most import- 
ant application of the tree. From the sap oi the 
Norway maple, sugar is prepared in Norway, Sweden, 
and Lithuania; thirty-five quarts of sap have been 
produced from one tree in eight days. 1 he sycamore 
maple has been known to yield thirty-six quarts in 
five days, which gave about an ounce of sugar to a 
quart of sap ; and in an experiment made by Sir T. D. 
Lauder on a tree of this kind in 1816, 116 parts of 
juice or sap yielded one of sugar. Most of the other 
species yield saccharine sap more or less freely ; but 
all are exceeded in this respect by the sugar-maple, 
which has derived its name from the abundance of this 
sap found in it and which is a tree of great importance 
to Canadian emigrants. The whole circumstances at- 
tending the collection of the sap and the manufacture 
of the sugar from it, have been so fully detailed in 
our Nos. 194 and 300, as to preclude the necessity for 
any further description here. 



SONOROUS GRANITE AND SAND-HILLS. 
In the tropical regions of both continents there are cer- 
tain phenomena which have given rise to much specula- 
tion, both among superstitious natives, and among Eu- 
ropean men of science who have visited the districts in 
question. Masses of granite rock, both hewn and 
unhewn, and hills of loose sand, have been heard to 
emit sounds, either at certain hours of the day, or else 
when agitated or disturbed under peculiar circum- 
stances. The attention of scientific men had been 
directed to the matter some years back ; but very re- 
cently the late lamented Sir Alexander Burncs met 
with a similar sonorous hill in Afghanistan. 

The statue of Memnon, still existing in a mutilated 
state, in Egypt, was celebrated among the ancients for 
the vocal sounds — or sounds so deemed— emitted by it. 
One of the classical writers states that the statue looked 
towards the east, and that it spoke as soon as the rays 



of the rising sun fell upon its mouth ; another men- 
tions it as emitting only a single sound ; a third al- 
luded to several d liferent tones or sounds ; and a fourth 
states that the statue, which is dedicated to the sun, 
" emits sounds every morning at sunrise, which can 
be compared only to that of the breaking of the at: ing 
of a lyre.*' When such men as Pausanias, Strabo, ?nd 
Juvenal mention these emissions of sound, it is pretty 
certain that there must have been some foundation 
for the report ; but in the absence of any natural ex- 
planation of the causes, mystery soon enveloped the 
whole. The simple sounds emitted were by degrees 
magnified into intelligible words, and even into an 
oracle of seven verses ; and the Egyptian priests ap- 
pear to have made use of this agency to maintain an 
ascendency over the people. 

When modem travellers became acquainted with 
this statue, much discussion arose as to whether the 
sounds really heard were due to any natural cause, or 
were produced by some contrivance of the priests. 
M. Dussaulx offers an opinion that, " the statue being 
hollow, the rays of the sun heated the air whicli it con- 
tained ; and this air, issuing at some crevice, produced 
sounds to which the priests gave their own interpreta- 
tion." This probably approaches pretty nearly to the 
truth ; but otner writers, preoccupied with the idea 
that the whole was an artificial arrangement, have set 
themselves the task of deciding how such an effect 
might be produced. M. LangTes conceives that the 
sounds might be produced by a series of hammers, 
which struck either the granite itself, or sonorous 
stones, like those which have long been used in China 
for musical-instruments. M. Salver te goes much far- 
ther than this. He supposed that there might be 
adapted to these hammers a clepsydra, or water-clock, 
or some other instrument, fitted to measure time, and 
so constructed as to put the hammers in motion at sun- 
rise. He even tries to show how the hammers them- 
selves might be made to act, by the following conjec- 
ture : — Between the lips of the statue, or in some less 
remarkable part of it, concealed from view, he supposed 
an aperture to be made, containing a lens or a mirror 
capable of focalizing the rays of the rising sun upon 
one or more metallic levers, which by their expansion 
put in motion the series of hammers. 

Besides the large amount of improbability attached 
to the construction of such a complex piece of scien- 
tific apparatus in such remote times, and the absence 
of any evidence, cither written or monumental, in 
support of it — there is this obstacle, that the position 
of tne apparatus, which might be effective at one part 
of the year, could not be so at another, on account of 
the different parts of the horizon at which the sun 
rises being farther north in summer than in autumn, 
and in autumn than in winter. It is also plain that 
the mutilation of the statue must have destroyed the 
apparatus; and yet the sound is still heard. Sir A. 
Smith, in the year 1821, examined the statue, and 
states that at six o'clock in the morning he distinctly 
heard sounds emitted ; but he thinks they emanate 
from the pedestal, and not from the statue. 

Sir David Brewster, in his * Letters on Natural Ma- 
gic,' groups certain items of information which seem 
to point to the true explanation of the cause of these 
sounds. Baron Humboldt in Colombia, and M M. Ja- 
mard, Jollois, and Dcvilliers in Upper Egypt, happened 
about the same time to meet with masses of granite 
from which sounds were heard. Humboldt thus 
speaks : — "The granitic rock on which we lay is one of 
those where travellers on the Orinoco have heard from 
time to time, towards sunrise, subterraneous sounds 
resembling those of the organ. The missionaries call 
these stones loxas de mtm'ca, ' 1 1 is w itchcraf t,' said our 
young Indian pilot. We never ourselves heard these 



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mysterious sounds, either at Carichana, Vieja, or in the 
Upper Orinoco ; hut from information given ushy wit- 
nesses worthy of helief, the existence of a phenomenon 
that seems to depend on a certain state of the atmo- 
sphere cannot be denied. The shelves of rocks are full 
of very narrow and deep crevices ; they are heated dur- 
ing the day to about 50° ; and I often found their tem- 
perature at the surface during the night at 39°, the sur- 
rounding atmosphere being at 28°. It may easily be 
conceived that the difference of temperature between 
the subterraneous and the external air attains its 
maximum about sunrise. May not these Bounds of an 
organ, then, which are heard wnen a person sleeps upon 
the rock, his ear in contact with stone, be the effect of 
a current of air that issues out through tlie crevices? 
Does not the impulse of the air against the elastic 
spangles of mica tnat intercept the crevices contribute 
to modify the sounds? May we not admit that the 
ancient inhabitants of Egypt, in passing incessantly 
up and down the Nile, had made the same observation 
on some rocks of the Thebaid, and that the music of 
the rocks there led to the jugglery of the priests in the 
btatue of Memnon ?" 

The last suppositive case put by Humboldt received 
singular support at the very time, but without the 
mutual knowledge of the parties, by the French tra- 
vellers in Egypt. These gentlemen heard, at sunrise, 
in a monument of granite situated near the centre of 
the spot on which the palace of Carnac stands, a sound 
resembling that of a breaking string, precisely the 
expression used by Pausanias in speaking of the Mem- 
non statue. They regarded these sounds as arising 
from the transmission of rarefied air through the cre- 
vices of a sonorous stone. 

From all the evidence collected it is now inferred that 
granitic rocks do emit sounds, when the external tem- 
perature is greatly different from that of the crevices 
in the granite; that the priests of Egypt, cognizant of 
the fact to a certain degree, caused the statue of Memnon 
to be sculptured from a block of granite which had 
been heard to emit such sounds; that the mouth of 
the statue wad placed opposite to the sun to give an ap- 
parent but mystical connection between them ; and 
that the simple sounds had been magnified in import- 
ance to suit the purposes of the priests. 

The noises heard from sandy mountains, though 
probably different in their source, have been equally 
the objects of superstition and wonder. In that part 
of Arabia called Arabia Petnea, near the northern end 
of the Red Sea, is a mountain from which very singular 
sounds are heard. No European appears to have vi- 
sited it before M. Seetzen, who wrote concerning it 'in 
1812. He says : — " For two years I had heard it spoken 
of by the Greeks, first at the convent of Sinai, and 
afterwards at Suez ; but the account which was given 
me of it was accompanied with so many fabulous re- 
citals, that I was lea to suppose it an invention of the 
merchants. When I obtained further information at 
Wady el Nachel, it hot only confirmed these first ac- 
counts, but added to them new prodigies : such as that 
under the mountain there existed a Greek convent, and 
that the subterranean noise was that of the Nakous, or 
call to prayers. (The Nakous is a sort of long narrow 
rule, suspended in a horizontal position, which the 
priest strikes with a hammer, and the sound of which 
is heard at a distance.) It was also stated that a Greek, 
who had been dead for some time, had seen the moun- 
tain open, and had descended into the subterranean 
convent, where he found fine gardens and delicious 
water ; and in order to give proof of this descent he 
had brought to the upper worla some fragments of con- 
secrated bread which he had received." 

In order to see what had really given rise to these 
marvellous tales, Seetzen visited the mountain. He 



found it a bare but majestic rock of hard sandstone, in- 
scribed with numerous names in the Greek, Arabic, 
and K optic languages, which showed that it had oftea 
been visited. Upon two sides the mountain presented 
surfaces so inclined, that the white and slightly adher- 
ing sand by which it was covered could scarcely sup- 
port itself, but slid down with the slightest motion, or 
even when the burning rays of the sun destroyed its 
cohesion. These two sandy declivities were about a 
hundred and fifty feet in height. 

Seetzen first heard the sound shortly after noon. He 
climbed with great difficulty to a height of sevepty or 
eighty feet, and stopped at a spot where the pilgrims 
were in the habit ol placing themselves to listen. In 
climbing he heard the sound from beneath his knees, 
which made him think that the sliding of the sand 
was the cause, and not the effect, of the sounds. The 
sounds were heard at about one o'clock, then about 
three o'clock, and then a third time ; and seemed to 
Seetzen to have great analogy to those of a humming- 
top, or sometimes to those of an Eolian harp. To test 
the truth of his conjecture that the motion of the sand 
was the cause of the sound, he climbed to the greatest 
height which he could reach, and slid down to the bot- 
tom as rapidly as he could, disturbing the sand at the 
same time with his hands and feet. The effect pro- 
duced was so great, and the sand in rolling made so 
loud a noise, that the ground seemed to tremble, and 
Seetzen owns that he should have been afraid if he had 
not himself planned the experiment. 

Mr. Gray, of Oxford, and Lieutenant Wellstead, 
have also described this sand-hill. The first time that 
Mr. Gray visited this place, he heard at the end of a 
quarter of an hour a low continuous murmuring sound 
beneath his feet, which gradually changed into pulsa- 
tions as it became louder, so as to resemble the strik- 
ing of a clock. Iu five minutes it became so strong as 
to detach the sand. He returned to the spot on the 
following day, and remained there an hour, during 
which he heard the sound much louder than on the 
preceding day. 

Mr. Gray offers no solution of the cause of the sound, 
but M. Seetzen attributes it mainly to the motion of 
the particles of very dry sand over each other in de- 
scending. This seems to agree with the account given 
by Sir A. Burnes of a sand-hill in Afghanistan. It is 
situated in the vicinity of Cabul, and is called the 
Reg-Iluwan, or " moving-sand." Two ridges of hills, 
detached from the main line of the Hindu-Koosh, 
run in and meet each other ; and at this spot is a hill, 
about four hundred feet high, and whose sides present 
an angle of about 40°, covered with a surface of very 
pure and dry sand. When this sand is set in motion by 
a body of people who slide down it, a sound is emitted. 
Sir A. Burnes says, " On the first trial we distinctly 
heard two loud hollow sounds, such as would be given 
by a large drum. On two subsequent attempts we 
heard nothing, so that perhaps the sound requires to 
be for a time settled before the curiosity is displayed. 
There is an echo in the place, and the inhabitants have 
a belief that the sounds are only heard on Friday, when 
the Saint of Reg- Ru wan, who is interred hard by, per- 
mits. The locality of the sand is remarkable, there 
being none other in the neighbourhood." 

It seems scarcely susceptible of a doubt that the su- 
perficial stratum of sand is in both these cases the 
cause of the sounds ; since the declivity is in both in- 
stances such as to allow the descent of the sand with a 
very slight impulse. The sound may result from the 
rolling of the particles of sand one over another ; con- 
centrated, it may be, by echoes from the neighbouring 
hills ; for it would appear from the description that in 
both cases the sand-covered hill is adjacent to others 
which might return an echo. 



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[Amoy.] 



A M O Y. 



Amoy is a small island near the coast of China, with a 
town of the same name, lying towards the south- 
eastern extremity of the province of Foo-Kien. It is 
in 20° 45' N. lat. and 118° E. long. In Mandarin 
dialect the name of the place is Hea-mun, which is 
pronounced by the natives Ha-moy. 

The district directly adjacent to this flourishing 
town, the emporium of the commerce of the province, 
is one of the most barren in all China ; but this cha- 
racter does not seem to extend very widely, as Lieute- 
nant Murray, in his work ' Doings in China/ says : — 
•' The country in the immediate vicinity of Amoy is 
miserably barren ; hence the means of subsistence are 
scanty and expensive. A few miles distant, however, 
the soil is rich and affords abundant supplies. Green 
peas, potatoes, and other European vegetables were 
brought to market in great abundance when the gene- 
ral panic had ceased/' Notwithstanding this serious 
disadvantage, the merchants of Amoy are among the 
most wealthy and enterprising in the Chinese empire ; 
they have formed connexions all along the coast, and 
have established commercial houses in many parts of 
the Eastern Archipelago. Most of the colonists in 
Formosa emigrated from the district of Amoy, with 
capital supplied by its merchants ; and in proportion 
as that island has flourished, so has Amoy increased in 
wealth and importance. 

During the south-west monsoon, the merchants of 
Amoy freight their vessels at Formosa with sugar, 
which they sell at various ports to the northward, re- 
turning home with cargoes of drugs. They maintain 
commercial relations with Manilla, as well as with 
Tonquin and Cochin-China: they annually employ 
forty large junks in trading with Bankok, the capital 
of Siam. Junks of the largest class— some of them 
eight hundred tons burden — go to Borneo, Macassar, 
Java, and the Soo-loo islands; and many of them 
annually visit Sincapore, In order to procure goods of 
British manufacture. 

no. 708. 



This port has not always been closed against Euro- 

Fcan vessels. According to the records of the East 
ndia Company, " the King of Tywan, on taking Amoy 
in 1 675, issued a proclamation inviting both Chinese 
and foreign merchants to trade thither, exempting 
them from the payment of all duties for three years." 
Many vessels in consequence resorted to the port, but 
the exemption was speedily revoked. In 1681 the town 
was taken by the Tartars, but Europeans were still 
allowed to trade thither, and continued to do so until 
1734, when the exactions of the Mandarins deterred 
them from continuing so unprofitable an intercourse ; 
and when an English ship went there ten years after, 
many vain endeavours and much fruitless discussion 
were employed to induce the Chinese to trade, so that 
the vessel was obliged to proceed to Bengal for a 
cargo. 

The ship Amherst visited Amoy in 1832 with no 
better success : it appears, however, that the obstacles 
to her trading all proceeded from the authorities and 
not from the people, by whom our countrymen were 
received in the most friendly manner. 

The late expedition has extended our knowledge of 
Amoy, having been captured by our troops. Dr. 
Macpherson says of it : — " Amoy is a principal third- 
class city of China ; it has an excellent harbour, and 
from its central situation is well adapted for com- 
merce. It is a great emporium of trade, and lias con- 
stant communication, not only with the neighbouring 
states, but also with Singapore and other settlements 
in the straits. The city is about eight miles in circum- 
ference : it is surrounaed in part by a wall, and nearly 
its whole length by the inner harbour. Its population 
is fluctuating, from the major portion being so fre- 
quently absent on mercantile pursuits. It is at all 
times much infested by native robbers, who come in 
boats and attack the inhabitants at night These 
daring marauders paid repeated visits to the city even 
while it was in possession of our troops, and plundered 
the temples and public establishments -of much valua- 
ble property. Tne citadel is about a mile in circum- 

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fercnce. It entirely commands the suburbs and inner 
town, and is surrounded by a wall which is occasionally 
turrcted, and varies in height from twenty to thirty- 
six feet. In this citadel were several extensive grana- 
ries well filled, arsenals containing enormous quan- 
tities of jingalls, wall-pieces, matchlocks, military 
clothing, shields, bows and arrows, spears and swords 
of all descriptions, besides extensive magazines of 
powder and material for constructing it. There was 
also a foundry, with moulds for casting fjuns. But 
few war-junks were seen, the Chinese admiral having 
shortly before our visit proceeded on a cruise with the 
fleet. Large quantities of timber and naval stores 
were found, and several war-junks were on the 
stocks; one two-decker, moulded after the fashion 
of ours, and carrying thirty guns, was ready for sea. 
.... From the point of entrance into the inner har- 
bour, the great sea-line of defence extended in one 
continued battery of granite upwards of a mile. This 
battery was faced with turf and inud several feet in 
thickness, so that at a distance no appearance of a 
fortification could be traced. The embrasures were 
roofed, and the slabs thickly covered with turf, so as 
to protect the men while working their guns. This 
work mounted about one hundred guns, and it termi- 
nated in a high wall, which was connected with a 
range of rocky heights which run parallel to the 
beach. The entrance into the harbour is by a channel 
six hundred yards across, between the island of Koo- 
langsoo and Ainoy. On each side of this passage there 
were also strong fortifications." 

Sir Hugh Gough has given a few additional parti- 
culars in his despatch. He says — '* The outer town is 
divided from the city by a chain of rocks, over which a 
paved road leads through a pass that has a covered 
gateway at its summit. The outer harbour skirts the 
outer town, while the city is bounded in nearly its 
whole length by the inner harbour and an estuary 
which deeply indent the island. Including the outer 
town and north-eastern suburb, the city cannot be 
much less than ten miles in circumference ; and that 
of the citadel, which entirely commands this suburb 
and the inner town, though itself commanded by the 
hills within shot range, is nearly one mile." 

The Chinese were somewhat vain of their fortifica- 
tions at Amoy. •• Their batteries,'* says Dr. Macpherson, 
** having on two former occasions driven off the bar- 
barian ships, they were by the Chinese considered 
impregnable. The capture of them, therefore, must 
have been a sad blow to their pride. Their magazines 
were blown up; their arsenals and their contents 
utterly destroyed ; their best war-junks and dockyards 
were burnt ; upwards of five hundned guns of various 
calibre rendered unserviceable, and their fortifications 
experienced much the same fate as did those of the 
Bocca Tigris." 

Both Sir Hugh and Dr. Macpherson remark on the 
greater degree of confidence reposed in us here by the 
natives than was shown at other places. The Doctor 
sayg — «• Several of the merchants never left their 
shops: these showed far greater acquaintance with 
European customs and manners than is even to be 
found at Canton. They could enumerate the produc- 
tions and describe the government of many places in 
the Indian Archipelago. But the name of Singapore 
was familiar to all, and produced many remarks in. 
favour of the British nation. There, they said, pro- 
perty is always safe : no duty is paid, and there are no 
mandarins to squeeze." These are favourable indica- 
tions towards our future intercourse with them. 

Having on a former occasion given an account of 
Macao and Canton (Nob. 533 and 535), and more re- 
cently of Hong-Kong (No. 688), Ning-po (No. 639), 
Shahg-ha? (No. 701), and Foo-choo-foo (No. 704), this j 



notice of Amoy completes the list of places which have 
been opened to the exertions of British industry ; and 
we trust that the blessings arising from an intercourse 
with us, and the consequent knowledge attained of a 
more elevated religion, a higher morality, and a more 
perfect civilization, may ultimately compensate the 
Chinese for the severe sufferings endured by them in 
the recent contest. 



PARKS FOR THE PEOPLE— THE DERBY 
ARBORETUM. 

Tat time seems to be approaching when our busy 
townsmen will have, if not green fields, at least a sub- 
stitute for them, in or near the thickly-thronged 
haunts of industry. During the rapid progress of ma- 
nufactures since the commencement of the present 
century, men scarcely dreamed of the changes which 
were going on around them. By silent steps the 
radius of each one of our great towns has gradually 
increased, till those streets which were formerly 
in the margin are now hemmed in all around, ana 
spots which were formerly fields are now included 
within the inhabited circle. This has arisen, not 
only from the natural increase of population in the 
towns, but from the migration thither of part of the 
agricultural population. In sortie towns this increase 
of masses of houses has pone on at such an astonishing 
rate, that public attention begins now to be forcibly 
directed to the probable consequences which will ensue 
to the health of the inhabitants. In London, for ex- 
ample, it is now a tiring walk to reach green fields 
from districts which in the last generation were fields 
themselves. The open and airy spots are becoming 
choked up with bouses, one after another, and the 
public are thus deprived of their breathing-places. 

When the tenure of land in England is considered, 
it is obvious that this system cannot be obviated ex- 
cept by government grant or private liberality. If * 
man possesses a piece of ground, he will dispose of it 
in the way most conducive to his own interests, either 
as building-ground or for some other purpose, accord- 
ing to the circumstances of the case. It is of no use 
to expect that the ground-landlord will lay by a part 
of his plot of ground as a public exercise or pleasure- 
ground ; he, as an individual, does not do so, and will 
not do so. It must be by efforts of a more distinct 
and decided nature that the end will be obtained. 

There have been developed, within a recent period, 
three methods of carrying out the desirable object : 
by parliamentary enactment in the management of 
enclosure bills ; by state grants ; and by private libe- 
rality. With respect to the first, a resolution was 
passed by the House of Commons in 1837, to the effect 
that, in all new enclosure bills, some portions of the 
waste lands about to be appropriated should be set 
apart for the healthful recreation of the inhabitants of 
the neighbouring towns and villages. Since that reso- 
lution was carried, all the enclosure bills introduced 
into parliament have had provision made for carrying 
out the prescribed intention ; and future generations 
will reap most valuable benefits from this arrange- 
ment, by which little green spots, available to all the 
inhabitants of a town or village, will be left perma- 
nently unoccupied by houses. 

As to the efforts of private individuals to aid in this 
object, nothing perhaps has yet been done so striking 
as that which the town of Derby exhibits. The family 
of the Strutts, who have for nearly a century been dis- 
tinguished manufacturers in that town, have grown in 
importance with the growth of the town, and have 
been universally esteemed for their liberality. One 
of the living members of the family, Mr. Joseph 
Strutt, presented to the corporation of the town, as 



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trustee* on the part of the inhabitants, a piece of 
ground, which he had caused to be laid out as a park 
or pleasure-ground. This park received the designa- 
tion of the "Derby Arboretum," and was publicly 
opened on the 16th of September, 1840. The whole 
ceremony of the opening was replete with interest, as 
exhibiting a remarkable and liberally-construed com- 
pact between the donor and the receivers of the gift. 

On the morning of the festive day all business was 
suspended in Derby, and all the corporate officers met 
in council. Mr. Strutt addressed them in their cor- 
porate capacity: he alluded to the increase in the 
trade and population of the town ; to the selection of 
Derby as a centra] station for the Midland Counties, 
the North Midland, and the Birmingham and Derby 
railways ; and to the spread of information and intel- 
ligence among the people. But he also said, that no 
opportunity had been afforded of retaining, for the in- 
habitants generally, public walks and grounds. He 
proceeded to state that, with a view of remedying the 
defect, he had appropriated eleven acres of land on 
the southern side of the town, which he had caused to 
"be laid out with paths and walks, and planted with 
trees and shrubs, for the use of the inhabitants. He 
then explained the manner in which he proposed that 
the corporation should manage the Arboretum, in 
respect of hours of admission, guardianship, &c. ; and 
pointed out the provision which he had made for the 
stocking and supply of the grounds. He then made 
an observation well worthy of being recorded for its 
enlarged liberality :—" It has often been made a re- 
proach to our country, that in England collections of 
works of art, and exhibitions for instruction or amuse- 
ment, cannot, without danger of injury, be thrown 
open to the public. If any ground for such a reproach 
still remains, I am convinced that it can be removed 
only by greater liberality in admitting the people to 
such establishments ; by thus teaching them that they 
are themselves the parties most deeply interested in 
their preservation, and that it must be the interest of 
the public to protect that which is intended for the 
public advantage. If we wish to obtain the affection 
and regard of others, we must manifest kindness and 
regard towards them ; if we seek to wean them from 
debasing pursuits and brutalizing pleasures, we can 
only hope to do so by opening to them new.sources of 
rational enjoyment. It is under this conviction that I 
dedicate these gardens to the public ; and I will only 
add, that as the sun has shone orightly on me through 
life, it would be ungrateful in me not to employ a por- 
tion of the fortune which I possess in promoting the 
welfare of those amongst whom I live, and by whose 
industry I have been aided in its acquisition/' 

After the presentation of the deed of settlement and 
the various documents relating to the Arboretum, the 
whole assemblage went in procession from the town- 
hall to the spot itself, to take formal possession. 
How they all walked in procession through the 
grounds ; how volleys of cannon were fired ; how the 
humble portion of the community danced away the 
afternoon in tents prepared for their reception ; how 
tea-drinking succeeded ; how a printing-press in the 
grounds printed off copies of Mr. Strutt s presentation 
address ; how the returning multitude sang the • Old 
English Gentleman ' before the house of the donor ; 
how the following day was devoted to the artisans' 
celebration of the girt, when six thousand persons 
were in the grounds ; and bow the third day was the 
children's jubilee, when all the children in the town 
had their holiday — all this, and much more, is held in 
pleasant remembrance by the inhabitants, and was 
tally recorded in the local newspapers at the time. 

Tue plot of ground thus nobly given has been esti- 
mated in value, with the expense of laying out under 



the direction of Mr. Loudon, at between ten and 
twelve thousand pounds. It is situated on the Os- 
maston Road, in tne southern part of the town. A 
neat lodge points out the entrance ; and on passing 
within the sates, situated on the right of the lodge, we 
find a broad straight path extending onwards to a dis- 
tance of five or six hundred feet, and smaller winding 
paths branching off to the right and left. If we follow 
either of these paths, say to the left, we find that it 
winds round pleasant hillocks or mounds, artificially 
constructed to diversify the scene; and occasionally 
small circular or oval beds or plots of ground arc seen, 
planted with small shrubs. All the various walks lead 
into each other at different points, and together exceed 
a mile in length. Here ana there, wherever a favour- 
able position occurs, seats and benches are placed ; and 
at three or four spots arbours, summer-houses, or 
pavilions are provided. 

In a pamphlet which Mr. Loudon has published 
concerning the Arboretum, he has given his reasons 
for selecting . (or recommending to the selection of 
Mr. Strutt) the existing arrangement, of a collection 
of trees and shrubs, foreign and indigenous, rather 
than a botanic garden or a mere pleasure-ground. In 
accordance with the plan adopted a considerable col- 
lection of trees* has been planted ; and in order to 
instruct the visitor as far as possible in the nature of 
the several trees, small tablets are fixed in the ground 
near each tree; each tablet consisting of a brick sup- 
port, in which is imbedded a small porcelain slab, 
containing the inscription. The inscription in most 
cases gives the number of the tree (as referred to in a 
catalogue), the Latin or scientific name, the English 
name, the habitat, the full-grown height, the date of 
the introduction into England, &c. 

At various parts of the ground arc boards stuck up, 
bearing inscriptions which contrast favourably with 
the 'steel- trap* and • spring-gun' announcements, so 
familiar to field ramblers. They run thus : — " This 
Arboretum has been given to the public for their ad- 
vantage and enjoyment, and is placed under their 
special care and protection. It is hoped, therefore, that 
the public will assist in protecting the trees and shrubs 
and seats from injury, and in preserving the property 
which has been devoted to their use." 

In one of the lodges attached to the Arboretum is a 
room for the temporary reception of visitors, and on a 
table in this room is deposited a " suggestion-book," or 
'* visitors' remark-book," in which any visitors so dis- 
posed may write down any remarks which may be 
suggested to their minds respecting the improvement 
and condition of the Arboretum. The intention was 
evidently a good one, and a few remarks are to be 
found in the book worthy of attention, but unfor- 
tunately such is not the character of the great ma- 
jority of the entries. 

It would be a pleasant thing to believe that similar 
donations were made or about to be made by wealthy 
men, whether nobles or manufacturers. We do not 
know whether anything has been further done in the 
matter; but it was announced in the 'Westminster 
Review,' about two years ago: — "We have much 
pleasure in being able to confirm the statement made 
in some of the public papers, thajt the Duke of Nor- 
folk has expressed his intention to give fifty acres of 
land to the town of Sheffield, for the benefit of its 
inhabitants. The plans; however, respecting it are 
not yet matured, as part of the ground is let, and will 
not be in hand till Michaelmas." 

With respect to the granting by the State of plots of 
ground contiguous to busy towns for the purposes of 
public recreation, there are two ways in which such a 
thing could be effected ; either by granting some of 
the crown lands, or purchasing ground from some 

T 2 



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other parties. The Regent's Park will serve to exem- 
plify one of these methods ; while Primrose Hill and 
the new Victoria Park exemplify the other. Those 
who have been acquainted with the Regent's Park for 
many years will remember that two or three distinct 
portions of it have been thrown open to the public 
from time to time. The portion within the " inner 
circle " has been entirely leased off by the Crown (to 
whom it belongs) for years past ; while the portion 
between the 4 ' inner" and the "outer" circles was 
cither leased or locked up from the public. Some few 
years ago, however, the fine gravel walk, with a large 
section of ground right and left of it, was thrown open 
to the public ; and since then a still larger portion, 
comprising nearly all the north-west section, with 
paths and picturesque suspension-bridges, has been 
similarly placed at the public disposal. How cheer- 
fully the gift has been received need not be told. 

Primrose Hill affords an instance of purchase on 
the part of the .Crown for the good of the people. It 
was, we believe, some three or four years ago contem- 
plated to form a cemetery in this favourite Londoner's 
nill ; but the government was induced to purchase it 
and the adjacent ground to the extent of nearly sixty 
acres, at 300/. per acre, from Eton College and Lord 
Southampton, to whom it belonged. Arrangements 
are now being made for forming a picturesque and 
beautiful connection between the Regent's Park and 
the Hill. 

The Victoria Park, now being laid out, occupies a 
site eastward of Bethnal Green, and is bounded on 
two of its sides by the Regent's Canal and the Lea 
Union Canal. It contains about two hundred and 
ninety acres, and is proposed to be laid out in a very 
elegant and park-like manner. If, as seems to be in- 
tended, handsome houses be built around it, and the 
more wealthy of the inhabitants of the eastern parts of 
the metropolis were to reside there, very great good 
would ensue to the whole neighbourhood. The ex- 
penses of this undertaking will be defrayed (or partly 
defrayed) by the sale to the Duke of Sutherland of the 
mansion in St. James's Park, once known as York 
House, but now Stafford House. The sale of the man- 
sion and the purchase of the site for the Park have 
been sanctioned by an Act of Parliament expressly for 
that purpose. 

That such Parks for the people may be provided in 
or near all our busy towns is an event to be hoped for 
by all well-wishers of the working community. 



England in the Time of the Saxons. — It is a remarkable fact, 
and One which has scarcely been sufficiently adverted to, that, 
with very few exceptions indeed, all the towns, and even the vil- 
lages and hamlets, which England yet possesses, apjx»ar to have 
existed from the Saxon times. This is in general sufficiently at- 
tested by their mere names, and there is historical evidence of 
the fact in a large proportion of instances. Our towns and vil- 
lages have become individually larger, in most cases, in the 
course of the last eight or ten centuries ; but iu all that space of 
time no very great addition has been made to their uumber. 
The augmentation which the population and wealth of the coun- 
try have undergone, vast as it has been in the course of so many 
ages, has nearly all found room to collect and arrange itself round 
the old centres. This fact docs not disprove the magnitude of 
the increase which has been made to the numbers of the people ; 
Ibr the extension of the circumference, without any multiplica- 
tion of the centres, would suffice to absorb any such increase, 
however great ; but seeing how thickly covered the country ac- 
tually is with towns and villages, it is certainly very curious to 
reflect that they were very nearly* as numerous over the greater 
part of it in the time of the Saxons. And if only about twenty- 
eight of our cities and towns, or even twice that number, can be 
traced to a Roman original, the number indebted to the Saxons 
for their first foundation must be very great j for, as we have 
seen, nearly all that are not Roman are Saxon. As for our vil- 



lages, the undoubted fact that the present division of the country 
into parishes is, almost without any alteration, as old at least as 
the tenth century, would alone prove that the English vil- 
lages in the Saxon times were nearly as numerous as at the 

present day Let it be conceded that many of the 

villages were very small, consisting, perhaps, of only a dozen 
or two of cottages ; still we apprehend the facts imply a dif- 
fusion of population and of cultivation, vastly beyond what 
can be supposed to have taken place in the preceding or Roman 
period, during which, indeed, the country was traversed in 
various directions by noble roads, and ornamented with some 
considerable towns, but does not appear, from any notices that 
have come down to us, or any monuments or signs that remain, 
to have been generally covered with villages of any description. 
— Pictorial History of England, vol. i., book ii., chap. 7, * History 
of the Condition of the People/ 



London and Dublin Weather. — If the Dublin table be com- 
pared with that of London, several interesting results will be at 
once perceived. In Dublin, the average number of days of no 
rain is only 150, whilst in Loudon it is 220 : but at the same 
time the number of fair days il less in London ; to that the com- 
parison would stand thus :-— 

No Rain. Fair. No Rain and Fair. 

Dublin 150 ... 50 ... 20"* 
Londou 220 ... 10 ... 230 



70 in favour of 46 in favour of 
London. Dublin. 


24 iu favour of 
Loudon. 


And in like manner — 




Light Showers. Rainy. 
Dublin 41 .... 94 . . 
London 33 . . » • 82 • • 


Heavy Rain. 
. . 24 
. . 21 



6 12 3 

The actual difference of the climate, as to the number of rainy 
days estimated on six years, is therefore 24 in favour of Londou ; 
the greater proportion of which falls into the class of partly wet 
and partly fair, the number of days of very heavy rain being 
nearly the same. The range of variation in the number of days 
of no rain was nearly equal in both countries j but, combiuiug 
no rain and fair, there was lew variation iu the climate of 
Dublin than in that of Londou. 

No Rain. No Rain and Fuir. 

Dublin. Loudon. Dublin. London. 
1837 . . 177 . . 212 . . 216 . . 247 
1841 . . 120 . . 188 . . 197 . . 205 

57 54 19 42 

The number of days of heavy rain varies from 18 to 32 in 
Dublin, from 16 to 30 in Loudon ; but it is remarkable that the 
years do not in this respect correspond, 1841 being the year of 
least heavy rain iu Dublin, and 1839 that of the most; 1837 
the year of least, 1841 of most, in Loudon ; and this difference, 
consequent on the different local position of the place, is also 
observable iu the actual quantities of rain. — Report on the Geo- 
logy of Londonderry, by Capt. Portlock. 



Nelson at Trafalgar. — The interest which we all feel in every- 
thing relating to Nelson will be a sufficient excuse for my insert- 
ing in this place a correction of a statement in Sou they *s Life of 
him, which, as there given, imputes a very unworthy and child- 
ish vanity to him, of which on that particular occasion he was 
wholly innocent. It is said that Nelson wore on the day of the 
action of Trafalgar, " his admiral's frock-coat, bearing on the 
led breast four stars ;" that his officers wished to speak to him 
on the subject, but were afraid to do so, knowing that it was use- 
less, he having said on a former occasion, when requested to 
change his dress or to cover his stars, " In honour I gained them, 
and in honour I will die with them." The truth is, that Nelson 
wore on the day of Trafalgar the same coat which he had com- 
monly worn for weeks, on which the order of the Bath was em- 
broidered, as was then usual. Sir Thomas Hardy did notice it 
to him, observing that he was afraid the badge might be marked, 
by the enemy; to which Nelson replied, that " He was aware of 
that, but that it was too late then to shift a coat." This account 
rests ou the authority of Sir Thomas Hardy, from whom it was 
heard by Captain Smyth, and by him communicated to me.— 
Note in Dr. Arnold's Lectures on Modern History. 



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[The Eastern extremity of the Church, v ith the Altar, Sec] 



THE TEMPLE CHURCH. 

[Concluded from page 131.] 

It has been said that the Round is deficient in colour, 
and there can be no doubt that in comparison with the 
chancel, or oblong part beyond, it is so ; whether that 
be a defect or the reverse depends on which of two 
principles of art we favour; for it does not seem 
certain what the original arrangement of this matter 
was. The benchers had therefore the alternatives of 
raising the whole of the decorations up to such a 
point that, the moment the spectator entered, he should 
be surrounded by all the splendour that the church 
had to exhibit, thereby producing an instantaneous and 
powerful, but not increasing effect,— or to conduct him 
From the sober realities of the outer world up to the 
gorgeous magnificence of the altar, through a succes- 
sion of transitive stages : first, a doorway sculptured 
only ; then a magnificent vestibule (the Round), where 
rich colours begin to appear, but still subordinate to 
the architecture ; and filially, of the chief portion of 
the chancel itself, revelling in the most intimate and 



happy union of painting and architecture, and only less 
ricn and glorious than the last compartment of the co- 
lumnar vista. The second of these methods is the one 
which has been adopted by the benchers; and if a 
little more colour could be added to the Round — the 
large spaces of blank wall rendered a little less con- 
spicuously blank — we think that method the best one. 
The period of the erection of the Temple Church 
was precisely that which offered the best opportunities 
for rich decoration. The Crusaders, however little they 
liked the Saracens, were much smitten with their mag- 
nificence ; and every ship that returned brought no 
doubt fresh importations of Eastern taste, with proba- 
bly materials of various kinds — as designs — to diffuse 
such taste in England, and possibly even Oriental 
artists themselves. The spectator, therefore, who has 
just advanced into the church, and stands bewildered 
with the magical scene before him — all the old tales 
of childhood, with its fairy palaces and gardens of en- 
chanted fruit, such as the « Arabian Nights • opened 
into his heart once and for ever, crowding upon him 
—need not be surprised at the Eastern character of the 



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arabesques, which in many a flowery maze play over 
all the compartments of the roof, and entwine about 
its groinings down to the very capitals of the pillars 
which support them. These last, four in number on 
each side, are, like the pillars of the Round, clustered, 
exceedingly elegant and stately-looking, and of a 
finely- veined dark (Purbeck) marble. A series of 
smaller clustered columns against the wall, and rest- 
ing on the stone seat which extends along the base of 
the latter through the entire church, supports in a si- 
milar manner the roof of each aisle. The more con- 
spicuous ornaments in the roof of the nave differ from 
those in the aisles : in the first we see in alternate 
compartments the societies' emblems in small circles, 
the Jamb on a red ground, and the horse on a blue ; 
and in the second the two banners used by the Tem- 
plars — one a flag, half white for their friends, and half 
black for their enemies, with the dreaded war-cry 
" Beauseant" — the other the Maltese-like cross : with 
these is interspersed a device used by them, copied 
from a seal belonging to the Temple now in the M u- 
seum, representing the Christian cross triumphing 
over the Saracenic crescent. . 

These remarks apply with equal force to the painted 
windows, those of tne east end, over and at each side 
of the altar, being one blaze of gorgeous hues, and the 
window in the centre of the south side being equally 
conspicuous for the general chasteness of its design 
and the intense richness of their few masses of colour, 
which are confined to the figures of the angels playing 
ancient musical instruments, three in the cenlral light, 
and one in each of the others. As to the chief of the 
eastern windows, the eye at first feels lost amidst what 
appears at some distance only a marvellous combina- 
tion of the minutest possible pieces of glass of different 
hues ; and, delighted with the harmony evolved from 
the combination, is content to be lost: but as we 
approach nearer, the whole resolves itself into a thou- 
sand beautiful designs ; and at last we perceive standing 
out from the rest a long series of pictures illustrating 
all the more important acts and events in the life of 
Christ. Immediately beneath this window is the altar, 
where the arcade of small trefoil bended arches, and 
the fretted and canopied panels in the centre, the 
capitals of the pillars, and the elegantly sculptured 
heads, are all ricnly gilded, yet without producing any 
sense of gaudiness or tasteless profusion. In the 
centre panel is a large cross, with the letters I. H. C., 
and surrounded by small golden stars on a ground of 
the heavenly tincture. The altar-table is covered with 
a crimson velvet cloth, sumptuously embroidered in 

S>ld. Everywhere, indeed, we meet with evidences of 
e untiring zeal and liberality which have directed 
all the recent operations. The very seats could furnish 
employment for an hour or two in the mere examina- 
tion of the oak carvings so thickly strewed over them 
in the shape of heads, which are as remarkable for 
their variety as admirable for their expression, animals, 
flowers, fruit, and foliage. The designs are chiefly if 
not entirely from the casts in Mr. Cottenham's collec- 
tion, taken by him from the original works in the chief 
cathedrals by means of what is technically called squeezes, 
that is, pressing with the hand a suitable plastic ma- 
terial—a kind of prepared clay — on the carving or 
sculpture to be copied, and which as it hardens becomes 
a mould for the cast. 

On removing the organ from the central archway, 
it was found a difficult matter to decide upon a new 
and suitable position. At last a happy thought oc- 
curred to some one, which, after long discussion and 
consultation between the Benchers, aided by the advice 
of some of the most eminent architects, led to its being 
placed immediately behind the central window of the I 
north side, in a chamber erected for it ; the window | 



itself stripped of its glass, and having an additional 
slender marble shaft added in the place of each division 
wall between the three lights, forming a very band- 
some open screen to the brilliantly painted aud gilded 
pipes behind, with their noble Gothic canopy. The 
organ has lately been reconstructed, in order to receive 
all the best modern improvements : when we add that 
it was previously distinguished as one of the best in- 
struments in England, our readers may judge of its 
quality now. It was built by the well-known Schmidt, 
who, when the Societies, in the reign of Charles II., 
determined to erect one of the best organs that could 
be obtained, offered himself in rivalry with Harris to 
undertake the work. The makers were both so good 
and so popular, that the Benchers, in despair of de- 
ciding satisfactorily to all parties, in that preliminary 
stage of the affair, made a very ingenious proposal that 
each should erect an organ in the Temple, and they 
would keep the best. This was done, and with such 
success by both, that the Benchers, unable to determine 
in favour of either, were at last obliged, in order to 
put an end to the contest, which excited the whole 
musical world in a most extraordinary degree, to con- 
fide the final judgment to chief-justice Jefferies, who 
chose Schmidt's organ. The other was subsequently 
divided, and part erected at St. Andrew's, Hoi born ; 
the remainder found its way to Christ Church Cathe- 
dral, Dublin. The Temple choir consists of fourteen 
voices, six men's and eight boys' : full cathedral ser- 
vice is performed. Beneath the organ-chamber is a 
low vestry-room, where, among other memorials, is the 
bust of Lord Thurlow, buried in the vaults of the 
church, and the tablet erected by the Benchers to 
Goldsmith, who lies in the paved court adjoining to 
that side of the building which was till recently the 
burying-ground. These are to be removed to the 
tri fori urn, or gallery surrounding the Rotunda, where 
are all the monuments formerly in the different parte 
of the church, chiefly of the period of Elizabeth and 
James. Among them is that of Plowden, the eminent 
lawyer, who was buried here, as was also Seldeh. On 
the side of the circular stairs, in the wall of the 
northern aisle, which leads to the triforium, is a small 
space hollowed out, not large enough for a man to lie 
down in at full length, with two slit holes as windows, 
overlooking respectively the two different portions of 
the church. This was the penitential hell of the Tem- 
plars, aud terrible have been the penances inflicted here, 
if we may judge from the record of one fact : — " Walter 
le Bachelor, grand preceptor of Ireland, was placed 
here in irons by the master, and left till he died: the 
corpse was then taken out at daybreak, and buried 
between the church and the adjoining hall." Descending 
again into the church, and throwing one last lingering 
look around, we notice the painted figures over the 
three archways, which represent respectively, beginning 
on the left, Henry I., contemporary with the foundation 
of the Order, with the black and white banner ; Stephen 
with the cross, for which in his reign they exchanged 
the said device; Henry II., in whose reign the Round 
was built, as you see by the model in his hand ; Richard I., 
with a sword allusive to his exploits as the first of Eng- 
lish monarchs who joined personally in the Crusades ; 
John ; and lastly, Henry III., holding a model of the 
entire church, tne chancel having been added in his 
reign : — an interesting series of historical portraits in 
connection with the Knights Templars, but which, like 
the procession where Brutus's statue was not, suggests 
most by its (necessary) incompleteness. All are here 
that the Templars would have placed here : but not 
the less are we reminded of Edward I., and his pious 
visit to his mother's jewels in the Temple, whicn, by 
some peculiar mental process, ended in his carrying 
away ten thousand pounds from the Templars' coffers ; 



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or of Edward II., who, after long dallying between 
the desire to break up the Order for the sake of its 
possessions, and the consciousness of the monstrous 
wrong that desire involved, yielded to the temptations 
held out by the example of the King of France, and, 
on the 8th of January, 1308, caused the Templars 
throughout England suddenly to be arrested ana im- 
prisoned ; and though the excessive barbarities of the 
French government, where actually thirty-six out of 
one batch of one hundred and forty prisoners perished 
under the torture, were not imitated here — no bonfires 
lighted for such wholesale destruction as the burning 
of fifties at a time — yet it appears torture was resorted 
to in England to make the unhappy Templars confess 
the odious, absurd, and all but impossible crimes 
which Philip of France, the guiding spirit of the move- 
ment throughout Europe, had determined should be 
fastened upon them. With the exception of a chaplain 
and two serving-men, the English members remained 
firm ; and as Edward was not prepared to go the 
entire length of Philip, of killing them one way or 
another unless they did confess, a lucky discovery was 
made, which, to a certain extent, relieved all parties. 
The Templars had believed their master had the power 
of absolution : this it was now most carefully and dis- 
passionately pointed out was a grievous heresy, as the 
master was a layman : did they wish to persevere in 
heresies ? Oh, certainly not : the Templars were quite 
willing to abjure that as well as every other heresy. 
Great was the apparent joy of the church ministers 
who had the direction of tne affair ; one body after 
another publicly affirmed this declaration ; and lo ! the 
whole were reconciled to the Christian community. 
As to the charges on which they had been arrested 
and tortured, and their possessions seized, it was mar- 
vellous to see the utter forgetfulness on all sides : not 
so, however, as to the goodly possessions themselves. 
The Order was finally abolished in 1312, and the pro- 
perty in England directed to bo transferred to the Hos- 
pitallers of St. John, to whom Edward did ultimately 
hand over some portion thereof, possibly about a 
twentieth. The site and building soon after fell into 
the hands of the students of law, whose successors have 
now, after a lapse of five centuries, shown so nobly 
their sense of the value of the building and the memo- 
ries committed to their charge. 



PROGRESSES OF QUEEN ELIZABETH. 

No. IV. 

OXFORD UNIVERSITY. 

Thr Queen appears to have commenced her progress 
in 1566, in August or the latter end of July. On 
August 3rd she was at Collcyweston in Northampton, a 
royal house, of which Cecil's grandfather, David, had 
been made steward by Henry VIII. She removed 
from thence on the 5th to Burghley, near Stamford, the 
splendid seat of the secretary, and from thence by 
Woodstock, arrived on the 31st at Oxford. 

The reception was splendid. At Wolvercot the 
Earl of Leicester, the Chancellor, four doctors in their 
scarlet habits, and eight masters, heads of houses, with 
numerous attendants, met her, welcomed her with a 
Latin oration, and conducted her towards the city ; when 
within half a mile of it the mayor and corporation re- 
ceived her, delivered up the mace, which was returned, 
spoke an English oration, which was answered, and pre- 
sented her with a " cup of silver, double gilt, worth 10/. 
and in it about 40/. in old gold," which were kept. 
" This gift," says Wood, " was the first in money that 
ever, as I can yet learn, was presented to a prince : for 
at the coming of any one to the University before this 
time, the custom was, that the citizens should give 



them five oxen, as many sheep, veals, lambs, and 
sugar-loaves; but this Humerus quinarius was now 
altered by Sir Francis Knolleys, the city steward, and 
converted into money, which yet continues." Another 
speech was made on her entering the city in the name 
of the scholars, and on reaching Quartervois (Carfax) 
an oration was made to her by the Professor of Greek, 
in that language, which she answered in the same, 
though professing to be in so great a company "some- 
what abashed." After another oration, leaving her 
"rich chariot," she entered the venerable Norman 
edifice, at once the Cathedral church of the diocese and 
the chapel of Christ Church College, four doctors hold- 
ing a canopy over her, and placing her on the right 
side of the choir ; where, on being seated, and having 
said her prayers, the dean deliverer a thanksgiving for 
her arrival, after which * 4 was an anthem, called 2> 
Deum, sung to cornets." Thus devotionally was the 
day closed, she departing from thence to her lodging 
in the college ; of which the gates and walls by which 
she passed were decorated with copies of verses in 
Latin and Greek. 

On the following day, Sunday, September 1, her 
Majesty was indisposed in the morning, but was enter- 
tained in her chamber by a " Latin oration, with two 
Greek verses at the end, delivered by " a very pretty 
boy, named Peter Carew," with which she was much 
pleased. In the afternoon she attended divine service, 
out was not present at a Latin play called * Marcus 
Geminus/ which was exhibited in the evening on a 
stage erected in Christ Church Hall, though on hear- 
ing it highly commended by the Spanish ambassador, 
Don Guzman dc Sylva, she remarked, " In troth 1 
will lose no more sport hereafter, for the good report 
1 hear of these your good doings." 

Her Majesty kept within her lodgings chiefly on 
Monday, being entertained uith a book of all the 
prophets, translated out of the Hebrew, and a little 
book of Latin verses, containing the description of 
every College, Public School, and Hall, &c., presented 
to her by the author, Mr. Thomas Neale, the Hebrew 
Professor. The verses have been preserved, and are 
in the form of a dialogue between the Queen and the 
Chancellor of the University, but contain nothing 
worth quoting. At night she attended the repiesen- 
tation of a play in Christ Church Hall, ' Pakemon, or 
Palamon Arcyte,' made by Mr. Richard Edwards. It 
is difficult to imagine the mode in which this subject 
was treated, from the description given of its effects. 
It was in two parts. At the commencement of the 
first part on this evening, a part of the stage fell ; a 
scholar of St. Mary's Hall, the cook of Corpus Christi 
College, and a brewer were killed, besides five that 
were hurt. The Queen sent her surgeons, and com- 
manded they should want no necessary assistance ; but 
afterwards " the actors performed their parts so well 
that the Queen laughed heartily thereat, and gave the 
author of the play great thanks for his pains." On the 
night of Wednesday the 4th, " the Queen was present 
at the other part of the play of ' Palaemon and Arcy te,' 
which should have been acted the night before, but de- 
ferred because it was late when the Queen came from 
disputations at St. Mary's. When the play was ended, 
she called for Mr. Edwards, the author, and gave him 
very great thanks, with praises of reward for his pains : 
then making a pause, said to him, and her retinue 
standing about her, this relating to part of the play ; 
• By Palaemon, I warrant he dallieth not in love when 
he was in love indeed ; by Arcyte, he was a right 
martial knight, having a swart countenance and a 
manly face; by Trecatio, God's pity, what a knave he 
is ; by Perithous throwing St. Edward's rich cloak 
into the funeral fire, which a stander-by would have 
stayed by the arm with an oath, Go, fool, he knoweth 



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his part, I warrant.' In the said play wai acted a cry 
of hounds in the quadrant, upon the train of a fox in 
the hunting of Theseus, with which the young scholars, 
who stood in the windows, were so much taken (sup- 
posing it was real), that they cried out, • How, now !' — 
•there, there!' — *he*s caught, he's caught!' Ail 
which the Queen merrily beholding, said, * Oh excel- 
lent ! those boys, in very troth, are ready to leap out of 
the windows, to follow the hounds ' This part it seems 
being repeated before certain courtiers, in the lodgings 
of Mr. Robert Marbeck, one of the canons of Christ 
Church, by the players in their gowns (for they were all 
scholars that acted) before the Queen came to Oxford, 
was by them so well liked, that they said it far surpassed 
* Damon and Pythias,* than which, they thought, nothing 
could be better. Likewise some said, that if the author 
did any more before his death, he would run mad ; but 
this comedy was the last he made ; for he died within 
a few months after. In the acting of the said play, 
there was a good part performed by the Lady Amelia, 
who, for gathering her flowers prettily in a garden then 
represented, and singing sweetly in the time of march, 
received eight angels for a gracious reward by her 
Majesty's command." 

The t Damon and Pythias,' which this play is so stated 
to exceed, yet remains to us, and may perhaps give us 
some notion of * Palemon and Arcite.' While the ground- 
work of the fable is taken from the classical story, all 
the supplementary parts are English, and of the 
coarsest humour. We give a short specimen of this 
play, as it was also acted before the Queen, and shows 
the nature of the entertainments that gave so much 
delight. Will and Jack are the servants of two of the 
courtiers of Dionysius, who, meeting with Grim, the 
court collier, who supplies, as he says, the " king's 
mouth" with coals, tney relate to him how the king 
suffers no barber to come near him, but makes his 
daughters perform that office. The collier, who is 
somewhat drunk, expresses a strong wish that they 
would operate on him : 

tf I would give one sack of coals to be washed at their hands; 
If ich came so near them, for my wit cbould*not give three chips, 
If ich could not steal out swap from their lips." 

On this hint the two rascally servants act, promis- 
ing to dress him in the fashion the king's daughters 
dress their father, intending by this means to rob him : 
he consents, and one fetches a barbers basin, razor, a 
pair of spectacles, &c. 

" Jack, Come, mine own Father Grim, sit down. 

Grim, Mass, to begin wit hall, here is a trim chair. 

Jack. What, man, I will use you like a prince : sir boy, fetch 
me my gear. 

mO, Here, sir. 

Jack, Hold up, Father Grim. 

Orim, Me seem my head doth swim. 

Jack, My costly perfumes make that. — Away with this ; sir 
boy, be quick x 
Aloyse, aloysef, how pretty it is! is not here a good facet 
A fine owl s eyes, a mouth like an oven. 
Father, you have good butter-teeth, full seen (soon). 
You were weaned, else you would have been a great calf. 
Ab, trim lira to sweep a manger ! here is a chin 
As soft as the hoof of a horse. 

Grim. Doth the king s daughters rub so hard 

Jack. Hold your head straight, man, else all will be marred. 
By'r Lady, you are of good complexion, 
A right Croydon sanguine, beshrewr me. 
Hold up, Father Grim. — Will, can you bestir ye? 

Grim. Methinks after a marvellous fashion ye do besmeare me. 

Jack. It is with unguentum of Daucus Maucus, that is very 
costly. 

* This is an imitation of tne Somersetshire dialect. Ich is ' 1/ 
and is incorporated into many other words—as chould, ( I would ;' 
cham, ' I am.' Shakspere use* the same dialect in « Lear.' 

f Aloyse, ' praise. 1 



I give not this washing hall to every body : 

After you have been drest so finely at my hand, 

You may kiss anv lady's lips within this land. 

Ah, you are trimly wash'd ! how say you, is not this trim water ? 

Grim. It may be wholesome, but it is vengeance sour. 

Jack. It scours the better. — Sir boy, give me my rasor. 

Will. Here, at hana, sir. 

Grim, God's aims! 'tis a chopping* knife, 'tis no rasor. 

Jack. It is a rasor, and that a very good one. 
It came lately from Palermo ; it cost me twenty crowns alone. 
Your eyes datsle after your washing, these spectacles put on : 
Now view this rasor ; tell me, is it not a good one? 

Grim, They be gay barnacles, yet I see never the better. 

Jack. Indeed they he a young sight, and that is the matter. 
But I warrant you this razor is very easy. 

Grim. Go too, then, since you begun, do as please ye. 

Jack. Hold up, Father Grim. 

Grim. Oh ! your raior doth hurt my lip. 

Jack. No, it scrapeth off a pimple, to ease you'of the pip. 
I have done now : how say you ? are you not well ? 

Grim. Cham lighter than ich was, the truth to tell." 

The knaves have now robbed him. This is a very 
favourable example of the fun at which our forefathers 
laughed, and the whole play illustrates the principle 
on which much of the early English drama was con- 
structed. The main incident is taken from Grecian 
story, the scene is laid in Syracuse, but the author's 
intention is evidently not to illustrate or exhibit Gre- 
cian manners or customs, but human passion and cha- 
racter in general ; therefore Edwards, though a classi- 
cal scholar, has no more hesitation in making his 
classical personages discourse as though they were 
contemporary with the period — Aristippus, for instance, 
alludes to the 'Three Cranes in the Vintry ' — than he 
has in making them speak English, or in giving Eng- 
lish names to their associates. Edwards nad a high 
character at the time, not only as a poet, but as a 
musical composer. We believe none of his musical 
compositions are extant, but the following song, sung 
by Pythias in the same play, may give a notion of 
his ideas of melody, and serve as an example of the 
lyrical poetry of the time : — 

" Awake, ye woeful wights, 

That long have wept in woe : 
Besign to me your plaints and tears, 

My hapless hap to show. 
My woe no tongue can trll, 
Nor pen can well descrie [describe] : 
O what a death is this to hear ! 
Damon my friend must die. 
The loss of worldly wealth 

Man's wisdom may restore, 
And physic hath provided too 

A salve for every sore : 

But my true friend once lost. 

No art can well supply : 

Then what a death is this to hear I 
Damon my friend must die. 
My mouth refuse the food 

That should my limbs sustain : 
Let sorrow sink into my breast, 

And ransack every vein. 
You furies, all at once 
On me your torments try : 

Why should I live, since that I hear 
Damon my friend must die ? 
Gripe me, you greedy griefs, 

And present pangs of death ; 
You sisters three, with cruel hands, 

With speed, come stop my breaths 
Shrine me in clay alive, 

Some good man stop mine eye : 
O death, come now, seeing I hear 
Damon my friend must die." 

[To be continued.! 



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[Tuddeo Gsddi (1) and Andrea Oicagua (2), with a view of the Campo S.iulo. 1 



ESSAYS ON THE LIVES OF REMARKABLE 
PAINTERS.— No. VII. 

OlOTTO AND HIS SCHOLARS — THE CAMPO SANTO. 
[Continued from p. 133.] 

This scholars and imitators of Giotto, who adopted the 
new method (il nuovo metodo), as it was then called, 
and who collectively are distinguished as the ' Scuola 
Giottesca* may be divided into two classes: — 1. Those 
who were merely his assistants and imitators, who 
confined themselves to the reproduction of the models 
left by their master. 2. Those who, gifted with ori- 
ginal genius, followed his example rather than his in- 
structions, pursued the path he had opened to them, 
introduced better methods of study? more correct 
design, and carried on in various departments the 
advance of art into the succeeding century. 



no. 709. 



Of the first it is not necessary to speak. Among 
the men of great and original genius who immediately 
succeeded Giotto, three must be especially men- 
tioned for the importance of the works they have left, 
and for the influence they exercised on those who came 
after them. These were Andrea Orcagna, Simone' 
Memmi, and Taddeo Gaddi. 

The first of these, Andrea Cioni, commonly called 
Andrea Orcagna, did not study under Giotto, but owed 
much indirectly to that vivifying influence which he 
breathed through art. Andrea was the son of a gold- 
smith at Florence. The goldsmiths of the fourteenth 
and fifteenth centuries were in general excellent de- 
signers and not unfrequently became painters, as in 
the instances of Francia, Verrocelico, Andrea del 
Sarto, &c. Andrea apparently learned design under 
the tuition of his father. Rosini plaofs his birth 
previous to the year 1310 : m the year 1332 he had 



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already acquired so much celebrity, that he was called 
upon to continue the decoration of the Campo Santo 
at Pisa. 

This seems the proper place to give a more detailed 
account of one of the most extraordinary and interest- 
ing monuments of the middle ages. The Campo 
Santo of Pisa, like the cathedral at Assisi, was an 
arena in which the best artists of the time were sum- 
moned to try their powers ; but the influence of the 
frescoes in the Campo Santo on the progress and deve- 
lopment of art was yet more direct and important than 
that of the paintings in the church of Assisi. 

The Campo Santo, or the " Holy Field/' once a 
cemetery, though no longer used as such, is an open 
space of about four hundred feet in length and one 
hundred and eighteen feet in breadth, enclosed with 
high walls, and an arcade, something like the cloisters 
of a monastery or cathedral, running all round it. On 
the east side is a large chapel, and on the north two 
smaller chapels, where prayers and masses arc cele- 
brated for the repose of the dead. The open space 
was filled with earth brought from the Holy Land by 
the merchant-ships of Pisa, which traded to the Levant 
in the days of its commercial splendour. This open 
space, once sown with graves, is now covered with 
green turf. At the four corners are four tall cypress- 
trees, their dark, monumental, spiral forms contrasting 
with a little lowly cross in the centre, round which ivy 
or some other creeping plant has wound a luxuriant 
bower. The beautiful Gothic arcade was designed 
and built about 1283 by Giovanni Pisano, the son of 
the great Nicola Pisano already mentioned. This 
arcade, on the side next the burial-ground, is pierced 
by sixty-two windows of elegant tracery divided from 
each other by slender pilasters ; upwards of six hundred 
sepulchral monuments of the nobles and citizens of 
Pisa are ranged along the marble pavements, and 
mingled with them are some antique remains of great 
beauty, which the Pisans in former times brought from 
the Greek Isles. Here also is seen the famous sar- 
cophagus which first inspired the genius of Nicola 
Pisano, and in which had been deposited the body of 
Beatrix, mother of the famous countess Matilda.* 
The walls opposite to the windows were painted in the 
fourteenth and fifteenth centuries with scriptural sub- 
jects. Most of these are half ruined by time, neglect, 
and damp ; some only present fragments ; here an 
arm — there a head ; and the best preserved are faded, 
discoloured, ghastly in appearance, and solemn in sub- 
ject. The whole aspect of this singular place, particu- 
larly to those who wander through its long arcades at 
the close of day, when the figures on the pictured 
walls look dim and spectral through the gloom, and 
the cypresses assume a blacker hue, and all the associa- 
tions connected with its sacred purpose and its history 
rise upon the fancy, has in its silence and solitude, 
and religious destination, something inexpressibly 
strange, dreamy, solemn, almost awful. Seen in the 
broad glare of noonday, the place and the pictures 
lose something of their power over the fancy, and that 
which last night haunted us as a vision, to-day we ex- 
amine, study, criticise. 

The building of the Campo Santo was scarcely 
finished when the best painters of the time were sum- 
moned to paint the walls all round the interior with 
appropriate subjects. This was a work of many years : 
it was indeed continued at intervals through two cen- 
turies ; and thus we have a series of illustrations of the 
progress of art during its first development, of the re- 
ligious influences of the age, and even of the habits and 
manners of the people, which are faithfully exhibited 
in some of these inoBt extraordinary compositions. 

Those first executed, in the large chapel and on the 
* Sec Escay II., No. 698. 



walls of the cloisters, at the end of the thirteenth and in 
the very beginning of the fourteenth century, have 
perished wholly : the earliest in date which still exist 
represent the Passion of our Saviour in a rude but 
solemn style. We find here the accompaniments usual 
in this subject from the earliest time, and which, from 
their perpetual repetition down to a late period, 
appear to be traditional ; the lamenting angels, the 
sorrowing women, the Virgin fainting at the foot of 
the cross. Two angels at the head of the repentant 
thief prepare to carry his soul into Paradise; two 
demons perched on the cross of the reprobate thief are 
ready to seize his spirit the moment it is released, and 
bear it to the regions below. This fresco and another 
have been traditionally attributed to the BufTulmacco 
of facetious memory, already mentioned; but this is 
now supposed to be an error. 

A series of subjects from the Boo'k of Job was 
painted by Giotto ; of these only fragments remain. 
Then followed Andrea Orcagna ; and the subjects 
selected by him were such as harmonized peculiarly 
with the destination of these sacred precincts: they 
were to represent in four great compartments what 
the Italians call • Iquatiro novissimij i. e. the four last 
or latest things — Death, Judgment, Hell or Purgatory, 
and Paradise ; but only three were completed. 

The first is styled the Triumph of Death (// Trionfo 
delta Morte). It is full of poetry, and abounding in 
ideas then new in pictorial art. On the right is a 
festive company of ladies and cavaliers, who by their 
falcons and dogs appear to be returned from the 
chase. They are seated under orange-trees, and 
splendidly attired ; rich carpets are spread at their 
feet. A troubadour and singing-girl amuse them 
with flattering songs ; Cupids flutter around them 
and wave their torches. All the pleasures of sense 
and joys of earth are here united. On the left 
Death approaches with rapid flight — a fearful-looking 
woman with wild streaming hair, claws instead of 
nails, large bats' wings, and indestructible wire- 
woven drapery. She swings a scythe in her hand, 
and is on the point of mowing down the joys of the 
company, (This female impersonation of Death is 
supposed to be borrowed from Petrarch, whose 
* Trionfo della Morte * was written about this time.) 
A host of corpses closely pressed together lie at her 
feet ; by their insignia they are almost ajl to be recog- 
nised as tbe former rulers of the world, kings, queens, 
cardinals, bishops, princes, warriors, &c. Their souls 
rise out of them in the form of new-born infants; 
angels and demons arc ready to receive them : the 
souls of the pious fold their hands in prayer ; those of 
the condemned shrink back in horror. The angels 
are peculiarly yet happily conceived, with bird-like 
forms and variegated plumage; the devils have the 
semblance of beasts of prey or of disgusting reptiles. 
They fight with each otner : on the right the angels 
ascend to heaven with those they have saved ; while 
the demons drag their prey to a fiery mountain, 
visible on the left, and hurl the souls down into the 
flames. Next to these corpses is a crowd of beggars 
and crippies, who with outstretched arms call upon 
Death to end their sorrows ; but she heeds not their 
prayer, and has already passed them in her flight. A 
rock separates this scene from another, in which is 
represented a second hunting-party descending the 
mountain by a hollow path : here again are richly- 
attired princes and dames on horses splendidly capa- 
risoned, and a train of hunters with falcons and dogs. 
The path has led them to three open sepulchres in the 
left corner of the picture ; in tnem he the bodies of 
three princes, in different stages of decay. Close by, 
in extreme old age and supported on crutches, stands 
a monk, St Macarius, who, turning to the princes, 



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points down to this bitter ' Memento mori.' They look 
un apparently with indifference, and one of them holds 
his nose, as if incommoded by the horrible stench. One 
queenly lady alone, deeply moved, rests her head on her 
hand, her countenance full of a pensive sorrow. On 
the mountain heights are several nermits, who, in con- 
trast to the followers of the joys of the world, have 
attained in a life of contemplation and abstinence to a 
state of tranquil blessedness. One of them milks a doe, 
squirrels are sporting round him ; another sits and 
reads, and a third looks down into the valley, where 
the remains of the mighty are mouldering away. There 
is a tradition that among the personages in these pic- 
tures are many portraits of the artists contemporaries. 

[To be continued.] 



PROGRESSES OF QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
No. V. 

OXFORD UNIVERSITY. 
[Concluded from p. 144.] 

On the 3rd of September the Queen went on foot 
with all her retinue to St. Mary's Church to hear dis- 

Imtations in natural and moral philosophy, which 
asted from four o'clock till six, with which she was 
much pleased, exclaiming, " Excellent, O excellent!" 
On the following morning there were more disputa- 
tions in the hall of Merton College, which she also at- 
tended : she then dined at Christ Church, and again 
attended disputations in St. Mary's Hall in the civil 
law, for " about four hours," previous to her witness- 
ing the play already spoken of. She must have been 
an admirable listener. 

The 5th, Thursday, was again occupied by disputa- 
tions in St. Mary's Church, when several of the ex- 
hibitors were omitted " for want of time," and at six 
o'clock the Queen concluded the act, " to the very 
great delight and rejoicing of many hundred then 
present," with a speech in Latin. She then supped, 
and repaired to Christ Church Hall to witness the 
performance of the Latin tragedy of* Progne/ by Dr. 
James Calfhill, for which she gave him thanks, " but 
it did not take half so well as the much-admired play 
of * Palaemon and Arcytc.' " On the following day the 
degree of Master of Arts was conferred on many of 
the noblemen and gentlemen of her retinue, which was 
followed by a Latin sermon in the Cathedral, at which 
the Queen was not present, " being much wearied." 
The Vice-chancellor and proctors afterwards presented 
her, in the name of the University, with " six pairs of 
very fine gloves ; and to divers noblemen and officers 
of the Queen's fanjily some two, some one pair, very 
thankfully accepted." After another oration she de- 
parted with her retinue by Carfax to East Gate, 
attended by the officials of the University and city, the 
scholars and others standing in order, while the walls 
were |* hung with innumerable sheets of verses, be- 
moaning the Queen's departure, as did the counte- 
nances of the laity (especially those of female sex) that 
then beheld her.' On reaching the boundary of the 
University jurisdiction at Shotover, an " eloquent 
oration " was delivered, to which she answered, turn- 
ing her face towards Oxford, ** Farewell, the worthy 
University of Oxford; farewell, my good subjects 
there ; farewell my dear scholars, and pray God pros- 
per your studies ; farewell — farewell." 

Notwithstanding her apparent affability and ex- 
pressed satisfaction, there were many things in Oxford 
that displeased ; and among the earliest of her acts on 
her return to London were the issuing of orders for 
the defacing and melting down of " plate remaining 
in superstitious fashion," and the transmission to Lam- 
beth of certain "superstitious books," among which 



are enumerated mass-books, invitatories, psalters, a 
" great prick-song book of parchment/' ana others on 
vellum and on paper. She stopped on her return at 
Rycott, and in the course ot the year visited Dr. 
Heath, the deprived Archbishop of York, at Cobham. 

In 1592, Lord Buckhurst being Chancellor, Queen 
Elizabeth visited Oxford a second time, on Friday the 
22nd of September, remaining till the 28th, when the 
reception and entertainments were so entirely of the 
same character as to render a repetition needless. But 
the Queen does not appear to have been so patient an 
auditor on this occasion as on the previous one. 
During the oration of the Bishop of Hereford, in one 
of the disputations, " Whether it be lawful to dissemble 
in the cause of religion ?'* ** the Queen, being some- 
what weary of it, sent twice to him to cut it short, 
because herself intended to make a public speech that 
evening ; but he would not, or, as some told ner, could 
not put himself out of a set methodical speech for 
fear he should have marred all, or else confounded his 
memory. Wherefore, seeing it was so, she forbeared 
her speech at that time, and more privately the next 
morning sending for the heads of houses and other 
persons, spake to them her mind in the Latin tongue 
And among others there present, she schooled Dr. 
John Reynolds for his obstinate preciseness, willing 
him to follow her laws, and not run before them." 
While in the midst of her speech, she noticed the old 
Lord Treasurer Burleigh, who was lame, standing, 
when she stopped, and would not proceed till a stool 
was procured for him, and then " fell to it again as if 
there had been no interruptibn." This, it was said, was 
done as a satire on the bishop, " who durst not adven- 
ture to do a less matter the day before ;" of another of 
the speakers she remarked — " He had been already too 
long ;" and several were cut short by the Proctors. On 
Sunday evening she attended the representation in 
Christ Church Hall of a comedy called * Bellum Gram- 
matical ;' and on Tuesday of another called * Ri vales :' 
of the nature of which we are told noihing, except 
that her Majesty heard them " most graciously and 
with great patience." A representation of the interior 
of Christ Church Hall has already been given in 
No. 182, together with several of the other buildings 
and objects of interest in Oxford in that number and 
No. 165. She was again accompanied on her depar- 
ture to Shotover, and again " looking wistfully toward 
Oxford, said to this effect in the Latin tongue : ' Fare- 
well, farewell, dear Oxford, God bless thee, and in- 
crease thy sons in number, holiness, and virtue,'" &c. 
— a somewhat equivocal prayer perhaps. 

In 1567 and the few following years we have little 
or nothing beyond the mention of the places she 
visited. On August 18, 1567, she was at Oatlands ; on 
the 21st at Guildford ; on the 25th at Farnham ; and 
on September 9th she arrived at Windsor, from 
whence she had started. On July 4th, 1568, she was 



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and where we shall meet her again in 1001, when 
visiting his successor. In September she was at the 
town of Southampton, from whence she issued an 
order to the citizens of Coventry, displacing their 
mayor, John Harford, for beating a man who had 
meddled with his greyhounds, with a Walking-staff, so 
that he died ; he was also forced to agree with the 
man's wife for his pardon, and exempted from the 
council for ever. The Queen then spent her Christ- 
mas at Hampton Court, on account of the plague, 
which was then " dispersed far abroad in London." 



In the accounts of the Queen's purse, made up to 
the end of this year (1568) from 1559, we find some 
curious entries. Her practice in music is shown by 
the entry of 74/. 13*. 4rf. for lute-strings for various 
years, at the rate of 13/. 6*. 8rf. per annum ; one 
great sackbutt, 15/.; 08/. 7*. I la. for perfumes; 
painting-work. 0/. 13*. Ad. j 1804/. IB*. 10k/., for 
articles connected with the wardrobe ; while the only 
entry of a literary character is 1/. 6*. 8d. t for binding 
four books. 



(Th* Araecra of Scinde.] 



SCINDE AND THE SCINDIANS. 

There are many fairer portions of the earth than 
Scinde, but if its rulers had allowed the resources of 
the country to be freely developed, the Scindians might 
have been a happy and prosperous people. The Ara- 
bian Gulf, which on the east washes the coast of Mala- 
bar, and on the west the coast of Arabia, is the southern 
limit of Scinde ; and Curachee, the most western Scin- 
dian tx>rt, is just at the mouth of the Gulf of Persia. 
Scinde is bounded on the south by the sea, as already 
stated; on the west by Beloochistan; on the north by 
Afghanistan and the Punjaub ; and on the east it is 
separated from II in dost an by a sterile and unproductive 
tract of country. The exact limits over which the power 
of the Ameers extended were not always very accurately 
defined, as the weakness of a neighbour led them to 
make encroachments upon his territory. Recently 
the country ruled over by the Ameers comprised about 



a hundred thousand square mile9 (nearly twice the 
extent Of England), and the number of the inhabitant* 
was about a million. Scinde was formerly a tributary 
of the Affghan monarchy, but about sixty years since, 
when the Douranee dynasty was in a tottering state, 
a Belochee chief of the Talpoor tribe set up as a 
ruler on his own account, but ne took the remarkable 
course of admitting his three younger brothers to a 
share of the power and cares or state, and they agreed 
to reign together under the title of the Ameers or 
Lords of Scinde. These four chiefs were long known 
in the East by the appellation of the *Char Yar,' or 
the four friends. One of the brothers died in 1801, 
when the three remaining brothers partitioned the 
country amongst them, and were nearly independent 
of each other. Their relative position is shown by the 
different amount of their respective revenues, for while 
one had an annual income of fifteen lacs of rupees 
(100.000/.), that of the two others did not exceed ten 



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lacs in one case and five in the other. The most 
powerful of the Ameers resided at Hyderabad, the 
modern capital, where, in a massive tower within the 
fort, a treasure was amassed, valued at twenty millions 
sterling, thirteen of which were in specie and the 
remainder in jewels. The revenue of the three Ameers 
was nearly the total revenue of Scindc. There were a 
few chiefs who possessed portions of the country, and 
levied duties on their own account. There were 
nobles of the Talpoor tribe always resident at the 
court of the Ameers, all of whom enjoyed the title of 
Ameer, but were not allowed any share in the affairs 
of the state. 

When Mr. Burnes visited Hyderabad in 1827, only 
two of the Ameers were living. 80 jealous had they 
been of the British government, that they had allowed 
no European officer to cross their frontier from 
the British province of Cutch on the south-east; 
and during the Burmese war it became necessary to 
overawe them by a display of force. Much surprise 
therefore was excited when, laying aside their cold 
and unfriendly attitude, they addressed a very friendly 
letter to the Resident in Ctttch, requesting Mr. Burnes 
to proceed to Hyderabad on account of the illness of 
one of the Ameers. Mr. Burnes was pleased with 
the good taste exhibited in his reception at their court. 
" There was no gaudy show of tinsel or scarlet ; none 
of that mixture of gorgeousness and dirt to be seen at 
the courts of most Hindoo princes." But in matters 
more important than these their conduct is deserving 
only of condemnation, though the defects of education 
may account partly for the narrow policy which they 
pursued. Mr. Crow, in his account ot the tour Ameers, 
written at the end of the last century, says, " The pre- 
sent rulers of Scinde have been seen, it is said, tending 
cattle in its jungles, and cooking their own meals. 
Certain it is that their understandings, dispositions, and 
manners betray great barbarity of education, and that 
since their affluence they have derived little cultiva- 
tion from literature or society." Though professing 
great attachment to the Mohammedan religion, they 
could not boast of a respectable mosque in their do- 
minions; and, in spite of their wealth, they were, 
according to Mr. Elphinstone, ignorant of elegance 
or comfort. 

The government of the Ameers was a harsh military 
despotism, careless of the welfare of the people, re- 
garding the extent of their treasure as the surest founda- 
tion or power. The light in which the unproductive 
mass of precious metals and stones at Hyderabad was 
regarded, is a proof in itself of a barbarous and unen- 
lightened mind. The taxes were enormous, and were 
farmed to the highest bidders, chiefly Hindoos, who 
alone possess capital. Trade and industry were para- 
lysed by absurd restrictions and heavy duties. Mr. 
Burnes says that it is "difficult to conceive a more 
unpopular rule with all classes of their subjects than 
that of the Ameers.*' The passion for hunting is in- 
dulged in to a most extraordinary extent by the Ameers 
ana other chiefs. They depopulated extensive and 
productive tracts of country in order to make forests 
and covers for game. It is no wonder, therefore, that 
the people were in a wretched state, both in the towns 
and villages. Hyderabad, the capital, situated on the 
banks of the Indus, one hundred and thirty miles from 
the sea, was little better than a collection of mud 
hovels, and not much more substantial than those 
found in the villages. Numbers of the people lived in 
grass huts erected amidst their cultivated land ; and 
when food or forage failed it was not unusual for a 
whole village to be abandoned for a more favourable 
station. The Scindians are described by the late Sir 
Alexander Burnes, in his 'Memoir of the Indus/ as 
passionate and proud, feelings which he ascribes to 



their savage ignorance and jealousy, and they are na- 
turally insincere, from living under a tyrannical go- 
vernment ; but they are, he says, honest, and, under 
peculiarly tempting circumstances, his property was 
always respected. They are brave soldiers, and do not 
display that passion for cavalry which distinguishes 
other Asiatic people, but pride themselves on their 
qualities as foot-soldiers. Sir Alexander Burnes re- 
marks, that their whole armed force, if brought into 
the field, would be little better than an undisciplined 
rabble. In 1834 the last of the four Ameers died, and, 
as a natural consequence of the state of the succession, 
the conflicting factions of the young princes brought 
on a civil war. The country fcas since been more or 
less in a disturbed state, and at present the leading 
Ameer is embroiled with the British government in 
India on points connected with the navigation of the 
Indus. It is scarcely possible that the result of the 
contest should be otherwise than advantageous to the 
people of Scinde, and if once the Ameers learn to 
know the real objects of government, the Scindians 
may become a happier people, and Scinde a wealthy 
and commercial kingdom. Scinde has fallen into a 
worse state since it was described by Mr. Burnes 
fifteen years ago, in consequence of the anarchy which 
ensued on the death of trie last of the four Ameers. 
Their treasure and their field-sports are still the chief 
objects of those who have succeeded them. Mrs. Pos- 
tans, whose work on 'Western India' is well known, 
in an account of a steam-trip down the Indus in 1842,* 
speaking of the fine forests of the Ameers enclosed 
with walls for the preservation of game, says that every 
head of game was calculated to cost the Ameers 
50/., reckoning only the expenses of their sporting 
establishments. In the period which had elapsed 
since Mr. Burnes 's visit, the lords of Scinde appear 
neither to have forgotten anything nor to have learnt 
anything. 

The Indus, which is navigable from Lahore to the 
sea, a distance of a thousand miles, hitherto almost a 
stranger to commercial enterprise, is now enlivened 
by steam-boats. This river does not possess the ad- 
vantages of the Ganges, and large ships cannot enter 
any of its numerous mouths, but flat-Dottomed boats 
and steam-boats constructed for the purpose may navi- 
gate its waters in safety. The British government has 
already formed treaties with the several states on the 
banks of the river, with a view of promoting and pro- 
tecting trade. Steam-boats established by the govern- 
ment and by private traders have already opened a 
commercial intercourse by this route with the north- 
western provinces of Ilindbstan. It is the intention of 
the government so to improve the roads between the 
Sutlej and the Jumna and the Ganges, as to enable the 
British merchant who enters the Sutlej from the Indus 
to convey his goods from the former river, and to 
descend the Jumna and Ganges, instead of ascending 
them against the stream. The benefits of this com- 
mercial activity will soon be felt in Scinde, which de- 
rives, like Egypt from its Nile, a fertility of soil which 
is periodically renewed by the overflowings of the In- 
dus, and the benefits of which might be greatly ex- 
tended by canals of irrigation. At present districts 
adapted tor cultivation are in pasture, but near the 
river the famines which arise from droughts are un- 
known. Vegetation is exuberant, and the abundance 
of food attracts people from the neighbouring states 
which enjoy a less happy position ; and yet lands, 
which might supply the whole of Western India with 
their surplus produce, are overrun with jungle, and 
devoted to beasts of the chase. 

* ' Asiatic Journal ' No. 155. 



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THE HORSE-FARMS OR HERDS OF 
SOUTHERN RUSSIA. 

The Russian cavalry, and a large proportion of all the 
horses required in the eastern countries of Europe, 
are mainly supplied from vast herds of horses which 
wander, in a semi-wild state, over the " steppes' 1 or 
plains in the southern part of Asiatic Russia. These 
plains are of a most extraordinary character. They 
extend entirely across the empire, from the confines 
of Hungary to those of China. Throughout this dis- 
tance of several thousand miles, scarcely a hill, or even 
a tree, is to he seen: the whole is one monotonous 
level, presenting less diversity of appearance, perhaps, 
than any other portion of the earth s surface. A tra- 
veller may proceed in a straight line for hundreds of 
miles without encountering a tree, or even a busk 
The situation is so exposed that there is shelter neither 
from the heat of summer nor the cold of winter. Du- 
ring a few favoured months, such as April, May, Sep- 
tember, and October, the ground is covered with coarse 
grass; but during five winter months the cold is to in- 
tense that even tne arctic regions can scarcely exceed 
it in rigour ; while during two or three summer 
months the parching dryness is such as Africa only 
can excel. In such a climate, when? agriculture could 
be pursued only under great disadvantages, and where 
cities and towns can hardly be said to exist, the prin- 
cipal occupation of the inhabitants is to rear horses, 
oxen, and sheep, all of which largely supply the 
European markets. 

The rearing of horses is the most remarkable of 
these three occupations, in respect to the differences 
which characterise Asia from Europe. A herd of 
horses, only a little removed from a state of wildness, 
is possessed generally by a Russian noble, who intrusts 
the entire care of it to a herdsman, called a tabuntshik, 
the herd itself beinp called a taboott, or tabun. The 
great Russian families of Woronzoff, Orloff, Potocki, 
Kasumoffsky, &c., all possess vast tracts of land in the 
44 steppes ;" and the rearing of herds of horses on these 
steppes forms a notable part of the revenue of the 
proprietors, since horses can range over a large ex- 
panse of ground, and obtain support from land too 
poor to afford pasturage to cattle or sheep. 

When a taboon is about to be formed, a few stallions 
and mares are placed on the estate, under the care of 
a tabuntshik ; and these are kept together year after 
year till the number of horses amounts to nearly a 
thousand, beyond which number it is not usual to in- 
crease the size of a taboon, other taboons being in such 
case detached from it. It is not till a taboon is full 
that the proprietor begins to become a seller, by sell- 
ing them at large horse-fairs held in different parts of 
the steppes, or to the government contractors, who go 
round from one taboon to another to select horses for 
the cavalry and the government service generally. 

The terms on which the tabuntshik is engaged by 
the owner, as well as the nature of the country and cli- 
mate, conspire to render the life of one of these herds- 
men, or horschcrds, if we may coin such a term, most 
wild and precarious. He is answerable for every 
horse that may *>e lost or stolen ; and, as both wolves 
and horse-thieves are plentiful in the steppes, his 
wage3 are generally wofully lessened by the value 
which he has to remit for the lost or stolen horses. 
The thousand horses, so far from being docile and well 
secured, are half wild, and have abundant opportuni- 
ties for escaping from the herd ; and the keeper lias 
therefore to guard against the wildness of the horses 
.themselves as much as against wolves and thieves. 
He almost lives in his saddle, by night as well as by 
day ; and indeed more by night than by day, for the 
horses arc most apt to stray, as well as to be attacked 



by wolves or seized by thievos, in the night-time. He 
must have a constitution capable of enduring the 
greatest privations and the extremes of weather ; for 
whether in the fierce cold of winter or the equally 
fierce heat of summer, he must be alike watchful over 
his herd. A roof in winter and a shady spot in sum- 
mer are alike uncertain to him ; and he must hold 
himself in readiness to gallop off at a minute's notice 
after a stray horse. 

The dress of these men is a multum in parvo, an as 
semblage within a small space of as many conveni- 
ences as circumstances will allow them to provide. 
The principal garments are composed of leather, which 
are bound around his middle by a leather girdle. The 
head-covering is a high, cylindrical Tartar cap, made 
of black lambskin ; and tne outer garment is a large 
brown woollen cloak, called a sreeta y with a hood to 
cover the head. This hood is allowed to hang behind 
in fine weather, and then often serves both as pocket 
and larder. Among the implements carried by the 
tabuntshik are a whip, a sling, and a wolf-club. The 
whip, called the harabuck, has a short, thick handle, 
and a thong fifteen or eighteen feet in length : this he 
has almost constantly in his hand, it being the chief 
instrument by which he keeps his disorderly herd in 
order. The sling is something like the lasso of the 
South American hunters, and is used to catch the 
horses when roaming about the plains ; the keeper 
being able, by an unerring; aim, to throw the lasso 
round the horse's neck without hurting him. The 
wolf-club, as its name imports, is used to repel all of 
the enemies against whom the tabuntshik has to con- 
tend : it is a thick club, three or four feet long, armed 
with a thick iron knob at one end, and kept always 
ready near the pommel of the saddle. When hurled at 
a wolf with the dexterity which these men have 
learned to use, it seldom fails to give a fatal blow to 
the animal. 

As for provisions, the keeper is but slenderly pro- 
vided. He carries a cask of water, for the steppes 
are but scantily supplied with that invaluable commo- 
dity. He also carries a bag of bread and a bottle of 
brandy, and sundry trifles which fill up the measure 
of his removable baggage. 

The kind of life which is led by the horses intrusted 
to the care of these men may now be briefly sketched. 
From about April to October, when the steppes are 
coated with grass, the horses arc constantly grazing, 
and make amends for the privations of the past winter. 
During the other half of the year they remain under 
shelter at ni^ht, and roam about during the day to ga- 
ther what little herbage they can And beneath the 
snow. An eye-witness has observed : — " When we say 
the horses remain under shelter, it must not be sup- 
posed that the shelter in question resembles in any way 
an English stable. The snelter alluded to consists of a 
space of ground enclosed by an earthen mound, with 
now and then something like a roof towards the north, 
to keep off the cold wind. There the poor creatures 
must defend themselves as well as they can against the 
merciless Boreas, who comes to them unchecked in ftis 
course all the way from the pole. To a stranger it is 
quite harrowing to see the noble animals, in severe 
weather, in one of these unprotected enclosures. The 
stallions and the stronger beasts take possession of the 
shed ; the timid and feeble stand in groups about the 
wall, and creep closely together, in order mutually to 
impart a little warmth to each other." And not only 
do the horses suffer thus from cold ; but, through the 
improvidence of the Russian agriculturists, although 
there is abundant grass for hay grown in the summer, 
yet very little care is taken to lay by a store of fodder 
for the horses in winter; and thus it often happens' 
that the poor animals are so reduced as to eat away 



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each other's manes and tails, for lack of anything else 
in the form of food. 

When winter is over, the horses appear as a troop 
of sickly skeletons, worn down almost to death by cold 
and hunger : but they speedily recover when luxuri- 
ating in the grass, which appears about April or May ; 
and for a couple of months they are full of life and 

flee. The heats of summer are, however, nearly as 
ad for them as the cold of winter ; not in relation 
strictly to the heat itself, but to the dreadful drought 
which accompanies it. The steppes are said to become 
so thoroughly dried and even baked in July and 
August, that scarcely a vestige of herbage remains, 
and all the streams are more or less dried up. The 
horses can find scarcely anything either to eat or to 
drink, and they endeavour to shield themselves from 
the fierce heat of the sun by grouping or huddling 
themselves together, each one under the partial sha- 
dow of another. 

*A pleasant autumn succeeds a scorching summer, 
and the horses, provided with abundance of grass and 
of water, and exposed to a mild temperature, recover 
from the debilitating effects of the summer, and in 
some degree prepare themselves for the horrors of the 
forthcoming winter. 

There are often fierce and remarkable contests 
between the horses and the wolves which infest the 
" steppes." The wolves generally approach singly 
towards the herd, and springing suddenly on a mare 
who may be at the outskirts, kill her, and then carry 
off her foal. But as there are few thickets or bushes 
for concealment, the attacks of the wolf are not so 
often successful as they would be in a different kind of 
country. Sometimes a party of wolves attack the 
taboon or herd at night, and a scene ensues which 
has been thus described by a writer in the * Asiatic 
Journal : ' — " An admirable spirit of coalition then 
displays itself among the horses. On the first alarm, 
Stallions and mares come charging up to the threatened 
point, and attack the wolves with an impetuosity that 
often puts the prowlers to instant flight. Soon, how- 
ever, if they feel themselves sufficiently numerous, 
they return, and hover about the taboon, till some poor 
foal straggles a few yards from the main body, when it 
is seized by the enemy, while the mother, springing to 
its rescue, is nearly certain to share its fate. Then it 
is that the battle begins in real earnest. The mares 
form a circle, within which the foals take shelter. We 
have seen pictures in which the horses are represented 
in a circle, presenting their hind hoofs to the wolves, 
who thus appear to have the free choice of fight or to 
let it alone. Such pictures are the mere result of 
imagination, and bear very little resemblance to 
reality; for the wolf has, in general, to pay much 
more dearly for his partiality to horse- flesh. The 
horses, when they attack wolves, do not turn their tails 
towards them, but charge upon them in a solid phalanx, 
tearing them with their teeth, and trampling on them 
with their feet. The stallions do not fall into the 
phalanx, but gallop about with streaming tails and 
erected manes, and seem to act at once as generals, 
trumpeters, and standard-bearers. Where they see a 
wolf, they rush upon him with reckless fury, mouth to 
mouth ; or, if they use their feet as weapons of offence, 
it is always with the front, and not with the hinder 
hoof, that the attack is made. With one blow the 
stallion often kills his enemy, or stuns him ; if so, he 
snatches the body up with his teeth, and flings it to 
the mares, who trample upon it till it becomes hard to 
say what kind of animal the skin belonged to." 

The tabuntshiks take care to keep their respective 
taboons or herds at a distance from one another ; for 
if they meet, a desperate encounter generally ensues, 
all the horses of one herd making common cause 



against the strangers. The stallions are always the 
combatants, the mares and foals keeping aloof. 

It may well be supposed that the control over fiv** 
hundred or a thousand such horses as these must be a 
most laborious occupation, and we may well wonder 
that any men can be found to undertake such a 
task ; for they are freemen, and not slaves, who act as 
tabuntshiks. The truth seems to be that they are 
desperate, reckless men, whose habits unfit them for a 
more quiet and moderate kind of life. They receive a 
rate of wages decidedly high compared with the 
Russian average : it amounts to five or six rubles per 
year per horse, equal to about 275/. a year English. 
But out of these wages the tabuntshik has to defray all 
losses arising from robbery, attacks by wolves, strayed 
horses, and the hire of three or four assistants. Still 
his net earnings are high, and these he spends mainly 
at the brandy-houses which are to be found scattered 
on the plain. Two or three years of this life of ex 
citement incapacitates a man for any quieter employ 
ment, and ten or fifteen years of it wear him out. 

These reckless men have more of what may, by 
abuse, be called liberty, than most other men in 
Russia. They are servants, yet their services are of 
such a peculiar kind, that a Russian noble would 
hesitate long before he discharged a tabuntshik from 
the care of a taboon : the man has become acquainted 
with the horses, and the horses with him ; he knows 
the value of each, and can of