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3 3433 08173847 2 











hi8tobical narratives; biooraphicai. memoirs; manners and 

customs; topographical descriptions; skbtcbes 

AND tales ; anecdotes ; 




POETRY, ORI0^4^I^V^3BIiECTm:tS * "» • " 

8^t)e Spirit of t^t l|ii3blec>|ijo^^^^ 




(Near Somerset House.) 


• • 

"•• • • "•• ••• • 

••••• •• • 

• • • • • • • • 


We here present to our readers the thirty-second vcdnme 
of The Mirror, with the gratifying reflection, that amidst 
such a vast number of cotemporaries, it still boasts of hold- 
ing a proud pre-eminence in the estimation of the public. 
This continued patronage will excite in us rigorous and 
untiring efforts to infuse into our MuiROB such a light, that 
Man may see himself reflected in all his pomp and circum- 
stance ; bringing home to him faithful scenes of daily life, 
portraying the manners, customs, arts» manufactures, science, 
with all the vast improvements of the age throughout the 
world; at the same time, illuipiliatiogaiLr pages with selec- 
tions from the brightest m0({ESCn *^ms pf.poeiigr. and fiction, 
blending them with tiie sweet&o/rmsmy aj^terling old author, 
whose works lie neglected on sofitarjr^uWxplored shelves, 
or tottering book-stalls, unknpW^iOj- or^p^sded over by, the 
idle and even the diligent. 

It would be ungracious not to acknowledge, which we 
do with pride, the great increase of Correspondents; to 
whom we tender our unfeigned thanks. 

And now we beg to call the attention of our friends 
to the many Embellishments that adorn and illustrate our 
pages, engraved from Origincd Drawifigs espressly for The 
MiREOB, and which are not to be met vnA in any oOwr work: 
among them may be mentioned, the monument of Dr. John- 
son, at Leicester : — ^Temporary Exchange, London : — Old and 
New Serjeants* Inns : — ^West Drayton Church : — ^Polytechnic 
Institution, Regent-street: — ^Fire-work Temple in Hyde 


Park : — the Bayaderes: — ^Entrance to the London Cemetery, 
Highgate ; and also its Interior^ showing the Catacombs : — 
Wharncliffe Viaduct: — ^and lastly, the large folding-plate 
representing the Inthronization of our Virgin Queen 
Victoria; with all the Coronation Regalia, &c. &c. 
Among the Topographical Delineations, are : — ^the Font in 
West Drayton Church : — Canterbury Castle : — Bolton 
Abbey i— ^Gbrteway, West Drayton :«^Roni8ey Qiurch ^— 
the Ormud Entrance to the Railwsy Station at Liverpool, 
&e. &C. 

The Poetical Department is enriched with effusions <^ 
no ordinary merit, many of them being the producticms 
of some of our fair Corre^>ondents. 

The literature of the volume will be found to coifiprise 
selections from some of the most interesting modern Tra- 
vels ; together with original Contributions to Natural 
History ; and Arf^cddt/s 'oiefr&A^ni, Persons, translated from 
foreiffn works'? 'the Tales* of'*Frction are also worthy of 
nlention ; as are thfefmsAv bfijijant selections from the Public 

Journals ; articie^an the* Drama ; the Fine Arts, Sec &c. 
•• •,♦ • • %;•••• • : 

• •• '• ■••• • 

• • • • I 

To conclude : — ^we invite a continuance of the patron- 
age of the Public, and the favours of our Correspondents ; 
and the Editor, while he continues to be honoured with such 
support, feels assured his efforts will meet with renewed 





Eabl of Tipperart, and Baron op Gullodbn ; K.6. ; 6.C.B. ; Grand Master, 
AiTD FIRST Principal Knight Grand Gross of the Order of St. Michael and 
St. George ; and Knight of the Prussian Order of the Black Eagle ; Field- 
Marshal IN THE Army ; Colonel of the Coldstream Guards ; Colonel-in- 
Chief of the 60th Foot ; Commissioner of the Royal Military College and 
Royal Military Asylum; Chancellor of the University of St. Andu(;ws, 

<&c. <fec. <fec. 

Semper rectusy sentper idem* 

veuth son of George the Third, (by whom he was 
much beloved,) was bom on the 24th Febmary, 
1774. ' At an early a^e he was designed for the 
{ army, and received his education at the Univer- 
Isity of Gottingen, with his two brothers, Ernest 
lanci Augustus: each being accompanied by a 
/ governor, a preceptor, and a gentleman. They 
were lodged in one house, and had their table 
fixed at six hundred ctowns a-week, including 
two grand iostitution-dinners, to which the pro- 
fessors and sokne students were invited. They 
were taught German by Professor Meyer ; Latin 
-by Heyne ; religion by LeSs, ecclesiastical coun* 
sellor ; and morality by Counsellor Feder ; for 

B which duties, each received an appointment of 

one thousand crowns per annum. Having com- 
pleted his military studies, his Royal Highness had 
his first commission as ensign at the age of six- 
teen ; and being a master of the Crerman lan- 
guage, after a stay at Gottingen for three years, 
he visited the court of Prussia, and returned to 
England in 1Z93, when he joined the British 
forces before Dunkirk, and shortly afterwards 
returned to England, wearin^? a coat that exhibited several sabre marks, and 
a helmet, through which he had been wounded in the eye. In 1794, he 
attained the rank of colonel ; and in the following year was created Duke of 
Cambridge, and Baron Culloden in Great Britain, and Earl of Tipperary in 
Ireland ; when Parliament granted him a yearly allowance of cf 12,000. which 
was subsequently raised to 227,000 per annum. The two parties of Pitt and 
Fox equally courted him ; Mr. Pitt's reserve and austerity disgusted him, and 
Fox he could not join without displeasing his father, with whom, as we have ' 
said} he always was, from his correct conduct, a great favourite ; when Mr. 
Burke published his celebrated Reflections, he joined the administration. 

In 1803, he was placed at the head of an array of 14,000 men, destined for 
the defence of Hanover; but, finding on his arrival in the Electorate, that its 
inhabitants evinced but little inclination to aid him, he solicited his recall, 
having previously published a manifesto to the Hanoverians, calling them to 
riare in a body, but without effect. He then returned to England, leaving th« 


Hnnoverian army under the command of General Walmoden. who was sooo 
obliged to capitulate. On bis return^ he took his seat in the House of Peers, 
and spoke often against the consular government of France. On the raising^ 
the German Legion^ bis Highness was appointed to command it^ and was also 
made Colonel of the Second, or Coldstream regiment of Foot Guards. 

The Duke gradually rose to the rank of Field-Marshal ; and on the restora- 
tion of Hanover, was appointed its Governor-general, which important trust 
he fulfilled highly to the satisfaction of the Hanoverians, and the King ; but 
the desire for a constitutional government* and loud complaints of the taxation 
in that country, bad now become very apparent; and in the commencement 
of the year 1831, the Hanoverians followed the Belgian example in getting 
rid of their burdens. The district of Hartz was in a disturbed state for some 
time. The disorder was first openly manifested at Gottingen ; and on the 
occasion of the tax on slaughtered cattle being demanded of a citizen, who 
refused to pay it, a company of infantry was ordered to march to Gottingen. 
The first act of insubordination was performed by Doctors £ggeling and 
Seidinsticker, who, at the head of a part)r of followers, marched to the Town- 
hall, and demanded of the Senate the dismissal of an obnoxious commissary 
of police, who had rendered himself very unpopular. This demand was no 
sooner granted, than the malcontentents, emboldened, perhaps, by the 
disagreeable commissary's discharge, proceeded to organize a burgher- 
guard to take possession of the plates of the town, and lastly of the govern- 
ment, substituting for the ancient Senate, a Communal Council of their 
own number. This burgher-guard consisted of two thousand inhabitants, 
and dye hundred students. All the people wore tri-coloured cockades — lilac, 
green, and red ; and the two doctors determined to lay before the king the 
grievances of the country, and the necessity of convoking an assembly of tbe 
States, the members of which were to be freely chosen from among all classes 
of the people. It is impossible to eulogize the conduct of his Royal Highness 
too much on this trying occasion ; he soon suppressed the threatened insurrec- 
tion, by the mildest but most decisive measures; assuring tbe people their 
desire for a constitutional government should be laid before the king ; and so 
prompt was his Royal Highness in fulfilling his promise, that towards the 
latter end of the same month, he, in the name of the king, issued two procla- 
mations to the people of Gottingen and the students, conceived in a spirit of 
much moderation and good sense ; but the course of the public schools were 
suspended; and the Hanoverian students ordered, and the foreign students 
requested, to go home until the colleges were again opened. Tn this procla- 
mation the numerous kindnesses of the king to the city were forcibly, but not 
ostentatiously, set forth ; and the absurdity, as well as the ingratitude, of the 
revolt was demonstrated. The grievances of the people the Prince declares 
himself ready to investigate and redress. In a short time the unhappy dis- 
contents were fortunately appeased, after much contention among the demo- 
cratic party and the aristocracy. It has indeed been well observed, *' Jf any 
one asserts that the democratic party are by nature, or inherently, worse or 
more depraved than the aristocratic, he is prejudiced on the side of a consti- 
tutional monarchy ; if he maintains that the aristocracy, or its partisans, are 
more selfish and corrupt than the democracy, he is prepossessed in favour of 
republican institutions. The true and rational opinion is, that both parties 
are composed of men, and embrace the usual proportion of the virtues, vices, 
corruptions, and excellencies of our nature. The vehement declaimers wbo 
maintani. on the one hand, that the higher ranks are horse-leeches who feed 
on the blood of the people, and defend abuses because they are to profit by 
them ; or represent the lower orders, on the other, as a race of vulgar brutes, 
who are utterly incapable of taking any beneficial interest in public affairs, 
and aim only at bloodshed, confusion, and revolution, in order that they may 
enrich themselves in the general scramble, are mere party men, whose opi- 
nions are contradicted alike by principle and experience, and unworthy to 
direct the thoughts of the rationsu portion of mankind. In every aristocratic 
society there are doubtless many corrupt and selfish individuals, and num- 



ben who value institutions^ only as they conduce to their personal advantai^e; 
but there are also many ^reat and good men, who are animated by a sincere 
demre for the public good, and adorn their elevated stations by the puritjr of 
tbetr virtnes^ and the lustre of their talents. In every democratic society there 
are unquestionably many violent, rapacious^ and egotistical leaders, and maU 
titudes who blindly follow their dictates, or indifferent to, if they did perceive, 
the dangers with which such conduct is attended; but there are also many 
generous and ardent spirits, who have, from sincere conviction, embraced the 
popular side, and are ready to submit to any privation in the prosecution of 
wniat they deem the general welfare. 

*' But all this, notwithstanding, nothing is more certain, or more nnde- 
niably established by experience, than that in every old society, democratic 
institutions are attended with the utmost danger, and that the evils they ensure 
are of so acute and overwhelming a kind, as invariably to lead in a few years 
. to the overthrow of so monstrous a regime, and the rule of force, either 
by the sway of patronage and corruption, or the bloody hand of arbitrary^ 

In March, 1831, his Majesty, King William, appointed his broAer, 
the Duke of Cambridge, Viceroy of Hanover, he not having been officially 
acknowledged Viceroy since the death of George IV. The Prince immedi- 
ately published a proclamation, promising to listen to and relieve all the 
just complaints of the people over whom he presided. In fact, nothing could 
exceed the regard the people had for the Duke, finding him at all times tena- 
cious of his honour ; this being his never-ceasing study ; for, when a man is 
prepossessed with a high notion of his rank and character, he wilj naturally 
. endeavour to act up to it, and will scorn to do a base or vicious action, which 
might sink him below that figure which he makes in his owp imagination. - 
A royal decree, dated Windsor Castle, May 11, lS3'i, decHired, that his 
Majesty, as King of Hanover, had a right to make laws for the regulation of that 
kingdom, independent of •the sanction of the States, and declaring also, that 
the States were to be composed of two Chambers, and their proceedings to 
be published. Many of the officers of state to be accessible to the nobility 
only ; and^ill officers to be subject to removal by government: on this decree 
VFas based the Constitution of 1833. 

When it was proposed to grant his Royal Highness the allowance of 
^12,000 a-year, George III., as aproofof his worthiness, said, in speaking of 
him, " that he had not committed his first fault!" and the whole tenour of 
his conduct verifies the truth of liis royal father's assertion ; for, we think it 
impossible a more correct, conscientious man can exist, than his Royal High- 
ness the Duke of Cambridge — semptr rectus, semper idem. 

His Royal Highness was married at Cassel, on the 7th of Mav, 1818, to 
Her Serene Highness Princess Augusta- Wilhelmina-Louisa, third daughter 
of the Landgrave Frederick of Hesse Cassel ; she was born on the 35th of 
July, 1797 ; and was again married, June 1, 1818, at Buckingham House, by the 
Archbishop of Canterbury, according to the ritual of the Church of England. 
The Duke returned to Hanover shortly afterwards, and remained there 
till the death of King William, when the Duke of Cumberland becoming 
King of Hanover, his Royal Highness surrendered his trust to his brother ; 
when, on the King's arrival in his dominions, the assembly of the States 
voted an address to the Duke of Cambridge, expressing their most profound 
regret, that his departure was occasioned by the death of another King, who, 
following the exalted example of his illustrious father, George III., had made 
the happiness of his subjects the sole object of his life ; a King who, under 
the visible protection of the ALMiOHfY, had, by wise laws, improved the con- 
dition, and promoted the welfare of the country ; and, by his royal goodness 
and activity, led the people from a time of distress to happiness and pros- 
perity. The assembly, at the same time, expressed the utmost gratitude to 
His Koyal Highness the Duke of Cambridge, ior the manner in which he had 
conducted the government for so long a period ; during which, his Royal High- 

:yU1 memoir of the DITKE OF OAMBRIDOE. 

ness had been found equally ready^ in public and private life^ to afford every 
assistance where it was required. 

On the evening of the 4th of Julv^ 1 837, His Royal Highness left Hanover. 
Before his departure^ he ordered the following farewell address to be pub* 
lished : — 

** At the moment of separation, I eannot leave this country without addressing to 
its beloved inhabitants a word of adieu. In my early youth, I often resided in this na- 
tive land of my forefathers, and many delightful recoUections are connected with that 
long by-gone period. I have now lived near twenty years among you ; and, placed by 
the honoured confidence of the King, my deceased brother, at the head of the govern- 
ment of this kingdom, I reflect with gratitude on the able assistance which the royai. minis- 
try and all the authorities have afforded me, and the zeal with which they have sustained 
and promoted my wishes and efforts for the welfare of His Majesty's subjects. From 
the inhabitants of this country, and this city, I have received numerous proofs of the 
most cordial confidence, and the sincerest love and attachment. The grateful recollec- 
tion of those proofs will be always dear to me, and no time, no distance, can ever obK- 
terate them from my heart. Painful to me is the separation from this city, where my 
children first beheld the light of Heaven, where I have spent so many happy hours, and 

. where I have maintained friendly relations with so many whom I love and eiteem. But, 
however far I may be removed, I shall ever feel a lively interest in the happineu of this 

. country. May the Almighty give to the government of his present Majesty, my illus- 
trious and beloved brother, a blessed reign. May the countiy advance in prosperity ; 
may the protecting hand of Providence guard it from all misfortune ; and may com- 
plete domestic happiness and household prosperity be enjoyed by all its inhabitants. In 
this, the inmost wish of my heart, my consort and my children most earnestly participate. 
They, too, love their country and this city ; they, too, separate from them with feelings 
of the deepest emotion ; and never will they forget the numerous proofs of love and 
attachment which they have obtained. And now, dearly belo^d people of this king- 
dom, I bid you all an affectionate adieu, and leave you in the hope, that you also wUl 
hereafter think with affection on me." " ADOLPHUS." 

'* Hanover, July 4, 1837." 

His Royal Highness returned to England; and having landed at the 
Tower Stairs September 6th following, arrived safe at Cambridge Uouse^ 
Piccadilly, the same day. 

The Dnke of Cambridge, by his royal consort, has issue-^ three 
children : — 

Prince George- William-Frederick-Charles, G. C. B., born at Hanover,* 
on the 26th of March, 1819; now abroad, completing his military edu- 

Princess Augusta- Caroline - Charlotte- Elizabeth - Mary • Sophia -Louisa ; 
born at Hanover, on the 19th July, 1832. 

Princess Mary. 

. * This amiable youth is remarkable for his candid and open disposition. PlAying one day alone with 
the young Count L , in the principal drawing-room of the palace, they heedlessly upset and des- 
troyed a very costly piece of bijautene, which the Duchess had expressly charged them neitlier to tott<^ 
nor approach. On lier return, her Ro3^al Highness discovered the accident, and demanded liow it hap. 
pened. " I,** said Prince George, stepping boldly forward, " I did it, mumma,*' On being subsequently 
asked why he liad taken the entire blame on himself, when his companion was eoually implicated, he 
replied, " Because I was the eldest, and ought to be punished most ; and because,*' he added, " I looked 

n L —- - ' s face, and thought he was abont to deny it, and say what was not true." 




No. 901.) 

SATURDAY, JULY 7, 1838. 


Coronation of Quem VitU^xia. 

Thursday, June 38, 1838. 

Thb jperformance of this aagnst ceremonial, 
(origioally anBonnced for the 26th of June,) 
took place on the above day ; atd may al- 
together be pronounced as the mo»t jtapular 
ce&bratioD of its kind within the rem'emr 
brance of the present generation ; the term 
*< jMpolar '* here beiug understood to sig- 
nily ginng satisfaction to the greatest por* 
tion of the people. We doubt whether the 
Offowing of George III. was so interesting 
an event to the nation, notwithstanding his 
British birlh> and being the first of his 
family who could speak English. The in- 
Bugaration of Ge<irge IV.— magnifiMnt as 
were its scale, and splendid its details — ^was 
marred by circumstances which must have 
reached the heart of the monarch : brilliant 
as was the dajr itself, there were occur- 
rences to doud its isnjoyment and prospects, 
added to which was the after consideration 
of its profuse elpenditure. No incident in 
th6 pageantry of modem times has eclipsed 
the onique and superb character of the 
platform procession on that memorable oc- 
casion ; and, probibly, the annals of festi- 
vity, ancient or modem* do not contain 
more costly items than those of the banquet 
in Westminster Hall, which, however, was 
rather a display of national pride than po- 
pular enjoyment. It was a gorgeous pic- 
ture of courtly splendour, which ^was out 
iBtperfecfly reflected upon the hearts of 
those who witnessed its false lights and 
transitory glories. In about ten years, suc- 
ceeded tM coronation of William IV. and 
Adelaide— A celebration shorn of its befit- 
tmg beams, although the affiKti<Mi of the 
people towards the sovereign and his con- 
sort nl%ht compensate for this absence of 
briiUiney. It was, perhaps, regarded too 
exohisively as a religious nto : there was no 
banquet; the formd consecration was alone 
regarded as essential, and those minor con- . 
siderations of the people which diffuse uni- 
versal enjoyjaea^ and let us add, loyalty, 
through the country, were almost entirely 
overlooked. Such was not, however, the 
course pursued on the auspicioiia occasion 
we are about to record in our pages. The 

Voi*t UUUL B 

tender age and sex of the Queen— the most 
youthful sovereign that has ever worn the 
crown of England*— would alone have rea« 
dered this the most interesting coronation in 
the records of such celebrations ; ibr lan- 
guage can but ill describe the affBCtionate 
attachment of all classes towards her present 
Majesty — 

and the words (w«) atter 
Lstaoae think flattery, for they*U find them troth. 

Nor is Uris lively interest confined to the 
country whidi is blessed beneath her be- 
i^ignant rule : every court of Europe parti- 
cipates in this gale of favour ; we am look- 
inf to her peaceftd sway, as do also millions 
of hnman oeings, for the extension of the 
Uessings of civuizatioa— in her mighty em- 
pire in the East, ' and her possessions and 
infant colonies in the West: in short* 
throughout the Old and New world all 
hearts are tumed' towards this consecration 
of Victoria^ <mr beloved Queen. 

Reverting to the popularity of the past 
coTonatiou at home, it is but justice to thote 
who sQggrested its celebration to observe that 
its results' must prove beneficial to the sfnrit 
of the country. Every subject, iirom the 
prince who graced its pageant to the peasant 
who partoOT of its humble gtories, has alike 
been thought of; so at to render the scene 
one of national cfnjoyment — 

When looae to festive joy. the country round 
Laughs with the loud tetivity of mirth. 

Of this hi^py occasion, so fi»u^t with hope 
and ioT, and pictures of life in its seven ages, 
we shiDl endeavour to present the reader wiUi 
as circumstantial a narrative as a brief record 
wiU comprise. These details will be gathered 
with care from our contemporaries, as well 
as from OUT own observation, with such atten- 
tion to accuracy, as, we tmst, has hitherto 
been shown in this work, in records of Urn 
great events of its time. The whole narra- 
tive, with its illustrations, eitends throueboul 
this and the following sheet ; and, let us nope, 

• The youngest soveieign, £dw«rd VI., was never 
crowned. Hence, his statue in the late Royal Ex- 
change, was represented with a crown sospendect. 
above <he head* 


tihat however hamble the raeoid maf be <if to 
aiigiuit an event, 

€H» <4mdi«D*f ehndien 
SlwU see tiiat a#d Uew heaveft 


At the last coronation, it will be remembered, 
their Majesties resided at St. James's Fklace, 
whence me horse and carriage procession to 
Westminster Abbey took place : it had little 
pretension as a'pi^^ant, though it atfbrded 
satisfaction to thousands who could not wit- 
ness the ceremonial itself Her present Ma- 
jesty having removed into the New, or Buck- 
ingham Palace soon after her^ ffcceesion, 
advantage was very properly taken of this 
circumstance to render the out-door proceed 
•ion a more prominent feature of the corona- 
tion than hitherto, and thus to gratify a very 
targe propbrtion of the inhabitants of the 
metropolis, besides thousands who had flocked 
ttiither from all parts of the country U> wit- 
ness the gay scene. By many persons, the 
omission of the banquet, — notwithstanding 
the late precedent at the coronation of Wil- 
liam-— wju condemned as parsimonious, and 
detracting from the dignity of tbe sovereign 
and the loyal character of the country ; an 
objection which was sensibly overruled by tb^ 
vast cost of a coronation festival, and the 
comparatively few persons who p^r^lcu of it. 
it was also shown that by prudjent,^et not 
niggardly, expenditure^ much mote mi^t t>e 
done for the gratification of tl^e pubhc than 
was accomtdished either at the coronation of 
George I v. or hif suieoespor; and t^ posi- 
tion we take tobave been admirably wedded 
or TAlhtxphiffd nvA. The extended Vm« of 
procession 'w&a fixt;d as fuJIowii : up CDcthti* 
tutLOEKhillf throuj^h Ihe j^rand triumphal 
arch, alaai^ Piccadilly, BL JumesViitret^t, 
PalUtnall, Cocksi^mr*street, Charing. crosv^ 
Whitehall ^ pAiUameat«^treet> to th« Western 
Duor of WestnaiDster Abbey ; aad the return 
by the tame FDivte, and in the saitie DTd«:r^ At 
the several streets leading into Ibis line, 
strong barrierti were fijted. 

PreaumiDg the reader to be acquainted 
with the^e localities^ we shall proceed to 
notice a fe\r of the preparations in the line to 
give eciat to the process ign. 

Upon the marble arch fucing Backinghaui 
Palace, was erected a uis^^ SU ftet in height^ 
to which was affixed the TQytd stendard 
of EniflaDd, 30 ft long and 18 It deep, of 
strougTy wmughtj anil very fine silk. It was 
manufactured by Mr« Millii, uf Cateaton- 
itreeti Citjt at a cost of uearly WiiL*^ 

* Wt Ivvv- Wi'-.iri'i ^'- t.'.- ilii-, H:,;-i.'ilf emblem 
rsgalwiy laJMked a| ittarise, m mt WindMw CiiBtlsw 
diiriiiff the slay of the soveriegn at the palace. Af 
ttkefsfMHeei ia Piirlk.a#^1Shoitt«d>bii theh occi». 
•iaai^ aadfiMMiigr; such w«| th« oiwtDiB in EoKlaiid 
at the seats of the nobility and priucipal gentry, the 
■raw of She owner trifiog ianWaaewdi cm tfaiilUg. 
▲C'BeLvoit CabtKi Chatswortk,' and a' few other 
iMUecssUenoear tha oMtom b slitt observMl. 

Saving proeeeded by the new road of Coa- 
stitution-hill, we obeerved rising teats for 
spectators beneath aild above the grand front 
of St. Qeotf^^u Hospital ; and on each side of 
the triumphal arch were galleries. The next 
noticeable preparation was at Devonshire 
House, ill the court yard of which was raised 
a pavilion-like erection above the front wall, 
divided into three compartments, tastefully 
lined and draped. Proceeding along Picca- 
dilly, a long i^ullery was biult within the 
garden^ attached to the cottage in the Gieen 
Park ; as wenr aiso seats above the dwarf 
wall extending to the lodge at the Basin. 

From Picca<lilly> the detour of St. Jamee*s- 
street and Pall-mall| for some days pieviousy 
reiK>unfled with the busy note of preparation ; 
and, from the palatial character of the nume- 
rous mansions in these streets, they formed 
the most attractive portion of the line. Crock- 
ford's Club-house had two capacious, covered 
galleries, each extending the whole breadth 
of itsi elevation, and that of an adjoining house. 
The several club-houses, and bouses in the 
street, had likewi8e galleries; but, in what 
may be termed magnificent e&ct. Crock- 
ford's bore away the bell. On turning likA 
PalUmall, an extensive gallery was erect'eil 
over the entrance>gate to Marlborouf^b-house^ 
for the establishment of the Qiieen 0owager^ 
A spacious gnlleiy was erected in front of the 
Ordnance-office ; and the preparat^ions for it^ 
luminating the whole elevation were of tastOf 
fill design. I'he Oxlord and Cambridge pni« 
versitier Club-house, the Conservative, t$e 
Travellers, the AtKensBum, and ^e O^nitea 
Service, were all provided with covered gallb; 
ries, finished' with gay draperies ; and upoQ 
the colonnade of the Italian Opera-house wes^ 
similar accommodation*. To describe the 
decorations of these several buildiiigs, woijd^ 
exceed bur Umi^ ; their varied and uistal cha* 
racter heightening the e&ct of the i^el|l^ 
These clpb-house galleries were aUD|irt e|^7 
clusiveiy to be ^propriated to ladies ; so ^u^t^ 
hereafter, cliibs must not be censured as un« 
S^allant establishments. We inay here nies^ 
tion in order of subject, th6u^ in advanee 9J( 
the line, that the tteform Cittb, wl^ch Iw§ 
taken up itp teinporary abode at Gwydyi^* 
house, Ifniitehall, gave seat-accpiijmodationft 
with a sumptuous Z^reakfast, ty six hundr^^ 
ladies ; and Strauss' t^aiid were stationied, ii^' 
the adjoining gardens. The former i|iiM>sian 
of the Eefori^ Club in Pall.!^ way leV 9^. 
^iled uj witjb^' setits for the pj^bik. 

Hound the statue of George III., in Oock-, 
■pur-ttreet, seats were built ; thij fleiceheive^ 
tail being iadly in the wey of sii^h iuxohiinio-" 
dation. Similair pibVlsions Were tiiade arouhd \ 
the statufi of Chaifles II., at Charihg-crosiL'} 
ahUAf in ideW^papf^lr pleasantry, ** hkaW)deN | 
gone & sCficngie Knetamor|>ho8is. Arbund ihe \ 
rtdling eleVttted seets wei^ erected,, covered ) 


bj a dark-coloured pa?ilion-Uk< noof or awn- 
iag; peering over which might be aeeo part 
of Uie eauestrian statue, but the prancing 
paw of tne noble quadruped was invisible, 
and the royal martyr, viewed fromthe eastern 
approach, seemed as if swimming in a pool 
of black mud/' 

Glancing from the high ground in front of 
the National Gallery, the line of Charing- 
cross, Whitehall, and Parliament-street, pre- 
sented a scene of busy interest. The Go- 
vernment buildings, from the Admiralty to 
Bowning-street, were provided with galleries, 
and seats were placed within the railing of 
Whitehall Chnp^el. In short, from the car- 
riage-road to Priv^-gardens, past Whitehall- 
terrace, to the comer of Bridge-street, was pre- 
sentecl an almost unbroken series of booms ; 
the erections on the opposite side of the 
^tiefet being Homewhat less frequent. 

At the end of Parliament-street, houses 
were entitely faced with galleries ; and where 
the read trends to Westminster Abbey, the 
seat-market, pro visu publico^ commenced 
Sickly and threefold. In each of the inclo- 
i^mrei tanking the road and St. Margaret's 
cnufchyatd, were capacious galleries, re- 
joicing in the royal coenomina of *' the 
Qu6en'g GaUery," « the Victoria," « the 
Royal Kent,** &c., allowing only space for 
entrance to the covered passaeren leadins^ into 
the Abbey. Around the Sessions House 
#ere seats : the east and south sides of th^ 
We^thlinstet Hospital were flanked with 
^lleri^ ;^ and in, the front was a pavilion of 
fmee stoiries, handsomely decornted. Indeed, 
in the idnAiHiiate Vicinity of the Abbey, every 
nook of i^ound wa^ covered with seats ; and 
never wert^ the difiiculties of seeing round 
t6xiMiai ttkot^ successfully surmounted. 

WiS* have lidw reacheif the Grand Western 
fibtHEihde to Wit Abbey, before which, (as at 
floA \mfk ddrobation,) a capacious vestibule 
Irak er^ct^d, to correspond with Wren's 
** |M Gothic ** of this front. This building 
tif'of wood, painted to harmonise in ornament 
iind tiiit with the main edifice. On entering 
the porch, ^he siime character is cleverly 
preserved in the groined roof, and doorways 
on each sidet, «6 well as in the vista of co- 
lumns l&adiiig to the Nave. The passage is 
flanked #ith tlie reception-rooms for Her 
Majeyty and the members of the Royal Fa- 
mily ; these chambers are well fluished, the 
doors being of uak, carved. That on the 
right was set apart for the Queen, aud was 
entered through an anti-chamber, in which 
the ro^l attendants waited. The walls, of 
heir Majesty's chamber are papered with 
Crinison, with pointed panels and cornices in 

Sold ; the light being admitted by two win- 
oWs filled with ground pjlaSs, diapered : the 
fiirnlture is of oak, and with the hanjijings 
and carpets are imitative antique. From. 
this apartment, an arched doorway leads to a' 


retiring-room. The chamber on the oppo- 
site side, £or the Royal Family, is all of simi- 
lar design to the preceding ; l>ut is finished 
in less costly style.* 

Having passed through this vestibiUe, or 
occasionid building, entrance is obtained 
through the original Abb^ doorway to the 
Nave, over the vast area of which is laid a 
substantial timber flooring. To allow for the 
erection of a music gallery sufficiently large 
fur 40<) performers, the organ was removed 
from over the screen at the entrance to tha 
Choir, and a new instrument erected about 
midway down the Nave. Over the side 
aisles, galleries are erected for the accom- 
modation of 1,500 persons admitted by Go- 
vernment tickets. These galleries are 
finished with crimson and gold ; and, to pre- 
serve the completeness of this part of the 
edifice, canvass screens reach from the 
bottom of the ^leries to the floor, and are 
painted to imitate masonry. Looking from 
this point towards the Gnoir, an imitative 
pointed screen rises at the back of the orj^an 
loft and musicians' gallery, supportini; whicn 
are^ rows of columns forming a. sort of vesti- 
bule to the Choir. The occupiers of the 
seats in the anterior portion of the Nave 
could thus enjoy an uninterrupted view of the 
royal procession as it moved from the Abbey 
doorj they could likewise distinctly hear thi^ 
musical performance, but they were shut out 
from witnessing the ceremonies within the 
Choir. Had the original organ Kcreen been 
removed, and the organ and gallery erected 
beneath the great western window and the 
Abbey thus thrown o|)en from east to west, 
(he eniect would have been imique as to ap- 
pearance. It is stated that such an arrange- 
ment would have marred the music, which, 
however, with the plan adopted was but imr 
perfectly heard at the east end of the Abbey. 
The long line of procession (to aid the eflect 
of which, by the way, was the origin of the 
elongated forms of our cathedrals,) would 
have burst uninterruptedly upon the assem- 
bly in the other portion of the building : as 
it was, it became visible to them only ailer it 
had passed through a |K>inted arch of mean 
proportions, whicn hahed the grandeur of 
the pageant. In the Morning Herald are 
some strong animadversions upon the adopt- 
ed plan, the writer observing : — *' Was it thus 
that the arrangements were made, when the 

* The huildiQ^ erected for the attove parpose at 
tli« corpnatiou of William lY., will be foond enKraved 
at page S89 of the Mirror, voL zviiL Having served 
itsporiKMe— tlie reception of King* Queen, Pripces 
and Pnucesses — the fubrie was sold to the proprietor, 
of a suburban tea'/rai-den ; and, tliere within a mimicf 
fibbric Jot the 13th century, folks r^esh tliemsehe* 
with the Anfflicised luxnri^ of tobacco and tea. of 
the 16th and i7th centurie.s, and giu and porter of m 
century later. As the building for Queen Victoria ia 
soDMwliat more sulwtautial than its pr<Hkcosser, letf 
^s hope th^t it. may her^fter be approftlate«l te 
some more' regal enjoyment. 

THK MlHK(m. 


heioef of CfMfy and Afpnconrt were erown- 
fsA ? Certainly not. This glorious Abbey 
was open completely from east to west, and 
in this grand vista was seen rich cloth of 
gold, and were suspended banners taken from 
the enemv covering every clustered column." 
Yet Uie hero of Agincourt was not always 
equally fortunate; for, on his return from 
that splendid victory* he entered London via 
Kent-street, in the Borough ! 

Advancing up the Choir, on each side were 
rising seats, and above them, two galleries 
reaching nearly to the spring of the arches ; 
over which, parallel with the vaultings, ex- 
tended a third gallery. It should be men- 
tioned that the floor of the choir was occu- 
ied by a raised platform 24 feet wide, and 
12 feet in length, upon which the proces- 
sion passed $ and on each side was a smaller 
platform for the individuals flanking the pa- 
geant. The central platform was ccvered 
with scarlet cloth, as were also the seats : the 
fronts of the choir galleries were also hung 
with scarlet drapery, trimmed with gold buu 
lion fringe. 

We now reach the main part of the Abbey, 
known as ** the Theatre," whereon was 
raised a small platform, about . four feet 
square, with five steps, four of which were 
covered with cloth of gold ; the lower one and 
the flooring being covered with a ridi Wilton 
carpet. On thb Theatre, lacing the Altar, 
stood her Majesty's Throne, or chair of state ; 
the sides of which were hung with deep gold 
fringe ; a footstool was placed at each cor- 
ner, in similar style ; where also were semi- 
circular rails, within which stood the heralds 
and yeomen of the guard. The Queen's 
litany chair and faklstool were placed at the 
foot of the stage supporting the Throne: 
they were richly gilded, and finished with 
velvet drapeiy. 

The transepts, as heretofore, were appro- 
priated to the peerage; the north for the 
peere^ttes and the south for the peers, occu- 
pying seats rising from the floor ; above which 
were other seats, and over them a large gal- 
lery, rising nearly to the circular window of 
each transept. 

. The eastern end of the Abbey did not 
corresiiond with the rest of the choir, and 
must, therefore, be described separatim. The 
floor is called ** the Sacrarium,** from the 
actual coronation taking place thereon at the 
altar The pulpit, as heretofore, was placed 
•gaiust the clustered columns at the south- 
east angle, formed by the north transept and 
the choir. The altar was surmounted by a 
kind of canopy, supported by emblematical 
figures, carved and gilt The drapery at the 
back consisted of purple and gold silk da- 
inatik, coiled up with ropes of gold ; and, on 
the right of the altar, stood the ofiering-table, 
covert with Qarter blue Genoa velvet* bor- 
dered and fringed with gold. Upon this 

was pbced a cushion, likewi&e of Oartvr 
blue velvet, paneled in goUl, and finished with 
massive gold tassels ; tocher with tJhe efler- 
ing, a pall or altar covermj^, of gold brocade, 
five feet square, bound with gold lace and 
fringed. The table was covered with richly- 
chased and heavy plate. St. Edward's chair 
was restored and regilt. On the south side 
of the Sacrarium was the Queen's box, with 
pur|)Ie and gold draperies ; the interior lined 
with white sarsnet, fluted, and furnished with 
richly-gilt chairs. Above this box was a gal- 
lery tor the great officers of state. Opposite, 
on the floor were the seats for the archbishops 
and bishops, and above them was a gallery 
for the ambassadors. Above the altar, as 
heretofore, was the gallery for her Majesty's 
** faithful Commons ;" the Speaker's chair, of 
oak, with green velvet cushions, lieing placed 
in the centre of the front, with a cushion for 
the mace. High above this gallery, paral- 
lel with the vaiutings, was another galleiy ; 
and, still higher, at the eastern extremity,cle8e 
to the roof, was a third gallery, for part of the 
Queen's state band, with trumpets and drums, 
to aid the ceremony occasionally ; upon the 
front of which gallery were emblazoned the 
royal arms. The hangings of the other gal- 
leries were of purple satin, embroidered with 
flowers in gold, to harmonise with the altar 
draperies. The coup d'ail of this portion of 
the Abbey was remarkably rich and effiictivey 
yet of suitable solemnity of character. At 
the back of the altar were retiring-rooms for 
her Majesty. 

Here our description of the interior fittings 
of the Abbey may end ; to which, however, 
it may be as well to add, that the reader who 
is not familiar with the plan of Westminster 
Abbey, will do well to refer to our account of 
the Coronation of William IV. and Queea 
Adelaide, (ilfiVror, vol xviii., p. 178 to 189, or 
No. ^08,) wherein the Abbey fittings are 
more minutely detailed ; and there were but 
few variations from their plan in the Corona- 
tion just passed . The fitting throughout the 
Abbey were alike noticeable tor their ingenuity 
of contrivance, solid ity, and extent The quan- 
tity of timber employed appears almost in- 
credible; 1,500 luads being supplied from 
one wharf only. Upwards of 11,000 tickets 
of admission were issued ; whereas, at the 
former coronation, the number was limited to 

C^e VtocewKiim. 
The morning was ominous of wet, but the 
little rain which fell led to a good result ; (ksr 
a summer's day ensued, without the incon- 
veniences of heat or dust. The first recog- 
nition of the day was at its earliest moment, 
by ringing the Abbey bells, which, unmusi- 
cal as they are, are welcome from their only 
being rung upon occasions of public joy. lu 
the night, a detachment of the Artillery from 


Woolwich hail tnken up th«ir;itatiQn within into the pdlace courfyan), wad werii loon 

the incloBed portion of St. Jamus'i Park ; joined b^ the carriages of the Royiil Family, 

where they fired at sunrise and during the Meanwhile, the equipages of the Foreign 

day. Almost from ** early dawn," thou- Ambassadors formed into line in the Bird* 

saiids of holiday folks began to pour into the cage Walk. At a quarter before ten, the final 

metropolis, all wending their wav towards formation of the line was^ commenced. At 

Westminster ; and, by eight o'clock, the vast ten minutes past ten, the Queen, leaning on 

majority of the persons who were to witness the arm of the Marquis of Conyngham, left 

^tbe coronation and partake of its festivities, the state-rooms, foliuwed by the royal at- 

had located themselves. Throughout the royal tendants, and having passed through fines of 

"^oute, every dwelling, from the basement to yeomen of the guard in the marble hall, her 

'the roof-tree, was thickly peopled ; all the Majesty was handed into the state coach by 

occupants awaiting the commencing of the Colonel Cavendish, clerk marshal. A signal 

pageant of the day. Soon after half'past nine, was given by Lieutenant Jay, R.N., who was 

detachments of the Blues and the Life in attendance at the marble arch; the royal 

Guards, with their respective bands, arrived standard was immediately hoisted, a salute of 

opposite the marble arch of the palace, artillery was fired, /^ God save the Queen" 

Twelve of the Queen*s dress carriages, toge- was played, and the procession moved in the 

thei with the state coach, were then driven following order : — 

Trampeten.' A Sqeadnm of Life Goaidt. 

Vniia th« aireeikm of cue of the Queen's Equerries, with two assistants : — 
Carriages of the Foreign Resident Ambassadors and Ministers in the order iu which they take preoedsnet 

in this country. 
The Charge d'Affiures of Mezicob The Minister front the United States. 

. Tlie Charge d* Affiures of Portugal. The Minister from the Netherlands. 

The Charge d^Affiures of SwSdsn. The BrazQian Minbter. 

The Saxon Minister. The Bavarian Miubter. 

The Hanoverian Minister. The Danish Minister. 

The Greek Minister. The Belgian Minister. 

The Sardinian Minister. The Wirtemberg Minister. 

Tiie Spanish Minister. , The Prussian Minister. 

Carriages of the Foreign Ambassadors and Ministers Extraordinary, in the order in which they respeethrely 
reported tlieir arrival in this country. 
Ahmed Feth\} Pacha, Ambassador Extraordinary from the Sultan. 
Marshal Soult, Ambassador Extraordinary from the King of the French. 
Duke of Palmella, Ambassador Extraordinary from the Queen of Portogal. 
Count Lowenhjtilm. Ambassador ExtiaorUinary from tlie King of Sweden. 
Marquess de Brigoole, Ambassador Extraorduiary from the Kins of Sar^nia. 
Count Alteu, Ambassador Extraordinary frrom tlie Kinj; of Hanover. 
Prince de Putbus, Ambassador Extraordinary from the King of Prussia. 
Marquess de Miraflores, Ambassador Extraordinary from tlie Queen of Spain. 
Baron de Capelen, Ambassador Extraordinary^ firom the King of the Netherlands. 
Prince Sohwartseuburgh, Ambassador Extraordinary from tlie Emperor of Austria. 
Count Stro^ouoff. Ambassador Extraordinary from the Emperor of Russia. 
Prince de Ligne, Ambassador Extraordinary from the King of the Belgians. 
Count Ludolf, Ambassador Extraordinary tsom the King of the two Sicilies. 
The Turkish Ambassador. The Russian Ambassador. 

The French Ambassador. The Austrian Ambassador. 

Mounted Baud of a Regiment of Household Brigade. 
Detachment of Life Guards under the direction of one of Her Majesty's Equerries, with two Assistanti :— 

Carriages of the Branches of the Royal Family, with their respective Escorts. 
The Dtfchess of Kent and Attendants, in Her Royal Highness's two Carriages, each drawn by six Horses ; 

with her proper Escort of Life Guards. 
The Duchess of Gloucester and Attendants, in Her Royal Highness's two Carriages, eeoh drawn Iqrite 

Horses ; with her proper Escort of LifiB Guards. 
The Duke and Duchess of Cambridge and Attendants, in His Royal Highness's two Carriages, each draim 

by six Horses ; with his proper Escort of Life Guards. 

The Duke of Sussex and Attendants, in His Royal Highness's Carriage, drawn by six Horses ; with his 

proper Escort of Life Guards. 

Mounted Band of a Regiment of the Household Brigade, under the direction of one of the Queen's 

Equerries, with two Assist-iuts : — 

The Queen's Bargemaster. Tlie Queen's Forty-eight Watermen. 


eacli drawn by six Horses. 

Two Grooms, walking. The First Carriaae, drawn by six lull's. Two Grooms, wiAkittf . 

Conveying two Pages of Honour— James Charles M'Cowail, Esq., Georf^e F. C. Cavendish^ Esq^; and two 

Gentlemen Ushers-^Major Beresford. Captaun Green. 

Two Grooms walking. Second Carriage drawn by six bays. Two Grooms walking. 

Conveying two Pages of Honour — Charles EUice, Esq., Lord Kilmarnock ; and two Gentlemen Ushers— • 

The Honourable F. Byng, and C. Heneage, Esq. 
Two Grooms walking. Third Carriage, drawn by six bays. Two Grooms walkiii|[. 

Conveying two Bedchamber Women— Lady Theresa Digby, Lady Charlotte Copley ; and two Grooms m 

Wahing, Hon. Gecnrge Keppel, and Henry Rich. 

Two Grooms walking. Fourth Carriage, drawn by six bays. Two Grooms walking. 

CoDveying two Bedchamber Women, Lady Harriet Clive, Lady Caroline Barrington ; and two Groons in 

Waiting,^ Hon. William Cooper, Sir Frederick Stoviu. 


Tim GiMBi iralldsf. Fifth Oarriag*. dmwn hf fix tayft. Two Gtooom wsHiMk. 

Convmiac two Ifaidt of Honour, Hon. M(n Rice. Hon. Ifte Mortey ; Groom of tte RoIms, Caplate ' 

Fxancb Seymour; mnd Cleik Marshal, Hon. Col. Cavendish. 
Two Orodms walkinff. Sixth ConiaKe. drawn by aiz baye. Two Grooms walking. 

ConveyfaiK two Maids of Honour. Hon. Miss Lister. Hon. Miss Paget} Keeper of the Privy IPurse. «r 

Henry Wlieatley ; and Vire Chamberlain. Earl of Bellkst. 
Two Grooms walking. Seventh Carriage drawn by six bays. Two Grooms walkii>f . 

Conveying two Maids of Honour. Hon. Miss Cavendish, Hon. Miss Cocks; Treasurer of the Household. 

£Hrl of Surrey ; and Comptroller of tlie Household, Hon. George Byng. 
Two .Grooms walkiug. Eighth Carriage, drawn by sik bays. Two Grootei wnlklnff. 

Coweyhig two Maids of Honour, Hon. Miss DUlon. Hon. Miss Pitt; uad two Lords hi Waiting. LoM 

Gardner, Lord Lilford. 
Two Grooms walking. Nhith Carrisge. drawn by six Greys. Two Grooms walking. 

Convsyiof two La&aof the Bedchamber, Lady Portmau, lAdy Barham; and two Lords in Waiting, 

Lord Byron, Viscount Falkland. 
Two Glooms walking. Tenth Carriage, drawn by six bays. Two Grooms walking. 

Conveying two L»&s of the Bedcliamber, Lady Lyttleton, Countess of Mulgrave ; and two Lords u 

Waitfaig. Viscount Torringtoo. Earl of Uxbridge. 
Two Grooms walking. Eleventh Cnrriage. drawn by she bays. Two GtooOs walkini. 

CooveyUig two Ladies of the Bedchamber, the Countess of Charlemont, Marehioncss of Tlivlstotk ; and twb 

Lords in Waiting, the Earl of Fingal, Marquess of Headfort. 

Three Grooms walking. Twelfth Carriage, drawn by sbi blacks. Three Grooms walklMg. 

Conveying the prineipd Lady of the Bedehamber, the Marchioness of Laosdowne ; the Lord Chamberlain, 

Marquess of Conyngham ; and tho Lord Steward, Duke of Airgyl^ 

A Squadron of Life Guards. 

Mounted Band of the Household Brigade. 

Military Staff and Aid-de^^amp on horseback, three aud tlncto>, 

AttMded by one Groom each, and on eHiier skle by the Equerry at the Cronn Stable. 8if Qwme Qoeuttt, 

and the Queen's Gentleman Rider. Deputy Adjutant Getieral, Deputy Quarter-Master General. Deputy 

AfUiitaut Oeoeml, Royid Artillery, Qttartep>Master General, Military Secretary to the Commamler-in-Chief, 

Adjutant Oeaeial. 

The Royal Huntsmen, Yeomen Frfekeii, and Foiekteit. 

She of Her Majesty's Horses, with rich trappUigs. each Hottfe Ivd by two Grooms. 

The Knight Marshal on Horseb^k. 

Marsluilmen in Ranks of Four. 

The Junior Exon of the Yeomen of the Guard on Hontfback. 

One Hundred Yeomen of the Guard, four and four. 

The Senk>r Bxon Ensign, and Lieutenant of the Yeomen on horseliack. 


drawn by eight eream-celomred horses, attended by a Yeoman of ihb GuaM, at each wlieel, 

and two Footmen at each door. 

The Gold Stick,ViM!ount Combermere. and the Captain of the Yeomen of the Guard, thft Earl Ilchester. 

riding on eitlier sid^ attended by two Grooms ea«h< 



The Mistress of the Robes, the Duchess of Sotheriudd. 

The Master of the Horse, the Earl of Albemarle. , 

The Captain General of the RoyaT Archets, the Dnke of Buccleugh, attended by two Orpoms. 

A Squadron of Life Guards. 

Our space will only alluw us to notice a few of Albemarle oti the beMrt-stiiting tight be- 

of the incidents on the route. At either fore ber. As she advanced towards the 

angle of the g»t|i^y,, at the side next the Horse 6tiard«^« however, some df the police 

Green Park, a sailor waa stationed, holding seemed to lose their patiencBf and thetnuir 

as unio^jaelc, to salute Her Majesty as she cheon was {died more freely than ilhsd bten 

passed through. The foreign equipages, in in the early part of the dayk ^Ue'eiitwii^ 

their beauty and variety, excited unbounded stance caught her MajeKty*s attentioa, aq4 

Soult, Dulw of Dahnatia, was etidently gave her pain. I^iitt^ait^ )^mM 

posite the Horse Ghiards, and firom the crowd, may judge from her manner; but the*disorder 
«iffii and militaiyv an evidence of English whCch had occelrtdd Ufas but momehtary." *' 
feeling delightful to record : for honour is llie procession was altogether of a veiy in- 

due to a hero, of whatever coimtry he maybe, teresting character, and had several novel 

The Duchess of Kent was a^ectionately items. Tlie oarriagee of the Foreign Ambas- 

greeted as the excellent mother of the sove- sadors and Ministers Extraordinary, it must 

reign ; an outburst of applause denoted the be owned, wwe a splendid addition, with the 

popularity of the Dnke of Sussex ; and the recommendation of denoting excellent taste 

Queen herself waa received with a degree of and feeling on the part of their several cOunW 

warmth and generous enthusiasm, which it is tries. H^e was scarcely a carriage in their 

impossible to describe. — *' It was evident, line which did not reach the scale- of sump- 

Csays the Momm^ Ckromcki) that the Queen tuousnessw But the equipage oflSouk cteited 

entered into the spirit of the^scene. Sne ae- far more interest than that of any other ain» 

knowledged the huzzas, which were heard on bassador. It is of French manufacture^ 

either hand, with a graceful bow and most and though it lacks the graceful outline of 

auiBBted smile, and seemed gaily conversioff an Euglish'carriage, it is an admirable spe^ 

with^e^Deehess of Sutberhiiid and the Ean cimen of chastened splendour; Hie body 


otoir i« j|ch eoM^ ^r^lkml with gold; 
tlie panaUi superbly embUKooefl witK the 
ann« of his Excellency, ^jod at the back is 
the baton of a Field Marshal ; the only order 
if that of the Lef^on of Honour. The 
mountinf^ of the ^rriage and harness are of , 
silver, and they were mow elaborately chased 
than tbajse of any .other equipage in the 
carUge. The upper panel! of the aides 
are filled with plate-gU^ as in state-car- 
riages, corfectly apealting: it has four ele- 
gant lamps surmounted with the dueal coro- 
net, of richly chased sil?er; also a silver- 
pierced cornice raised consideEably above the 
no^ and a silver ducal coronet of lai^ di- 
mensioiis at each angle. The lining of the 
interior is of a rich nankeen satin, velieved 
with scailet, and fitted up in unique style ; 
the hammerdoth is of Uue broadcloth, 
trimmed with nankeen gimp and tassels ; 
and in the centre are the arms of his £x- 
ceUsn^, eiiqnisitely embroidered. The live- 
ries are of a dmb colour, with a rich figured 
silk lace. It was drawn by two horses ; and 
by the elegance and harmonious chara^er of 
ito appointments muitt have put the genius of 
Jjoog Acre on the pU vine. It is considered 
the fiAest specimen of Fiendi coachbuilding 
fet produced. AmbngKt the points of other 
■qiiipagea mort admired for their costliness 
wne velvet anid silk seat a^d saddle doths 
tnauned with broad gold bee and bulKon 
gold tassels; bii^Des and wh^ moutited 
with gold ; lamps superbly diased and gilt ; 
ihe diitperies of the hammer-cloths, and the 
■sassiveness of thqchased or embroidered arms 
thdreon w^re especially admired ; ihe liveries 
wese gay and tasteful, and the nntfocms of 
the c&issettrs SMperb. llie livery of^the Sar^ 
diaimv. Ambassador Ektraordtttafy Was truly 
a spedmen of feudal magnificence; thi 
■earns and li)ppets of tha coats beifig cOKeied 
witli. acBia minutely. w<^ed in cdoum and 
emlHoidere^ in gold to stifihess. Upon the 
liea^ of, the^^hories of two of the e^ipages 
were degant tocques of light bhie and if mt^ 
feathdrs, tismindiiig' one of champions* char- 
gera. Alost of 'ihe.<;arriages were drawn by 
4[pair pf horses, but two or three were fbur- 
in-h4hd with postilion and. outriders. In the 
linings of two of the carriages, our national 
emblems, the rose^ shamrock, and thistle 
Wetfi introduced in apt complimentary tasJte. 
Among the remaining equipages must be no* 
ticed the new hammer-cldth of Her Majesty^s 
state coach, of scarlet silk Q^uiQa veWet> thei 
badges on each side and back, fringes, ropes- 
and'tiuMMb^ bein^of ^bld ; ;if "^(wt ^ ] ,000/, 
Among ihe new costumes in the proces- 
^pu.irere t^e. ^jjte, -dycM^a fp^ tli^.feltyn , 
eight royal b^emen, made hff, Mr. Cooper, 
ol Suflblk-street, Pall-mall. They are of 
«fiVk^ doth» Wih Oie, sihrer.'f V. R^'' dtik 
button, bearing the ifoyd' bai^emun's badge 
of soKi silver bn the. breast ^4 t)apk#,:}^rr 

movntei by a erowB ef solid sike^ (|^ld«l, 
and having on each dde, the lettem ** V.R." 
of the same. The badge in the centre eon- 
sists .of the royal anas in dead silver, the 
rose and the Uiistle gilded, and the sham- 
rock, in ipreen enamel Each badge weighs 
nearly two pounds, so that each coat hem 
a weight, with the ofowa and letiers» ef 
considerably more than four pounds. 

The Royal huntsmen, in their scarlet 
costume, and the yeomen prickers and 
foresters, in green vdvet, golden bdts, 
and bugles, were fine» old English eharae- 
teristics ; as were also the splendid^ oapa* 
risoned horses led by grooms. 
. The yeomen of the guard wore new uni- 
forms ; their partisans were forbished, and 
their rufts were of extra rigidity. We ara 
happy to see regard for this imposing coa- 
tume cherished at our court ; it is a relic of 
one of the mO{*t magnificent periods in its 
history, although it accords better with the 
halls at St. James's, Hampton Court> and 
Windsor, than with the iU-asaorted daoora- 
tion of Buekingham Palace. 

Her Msjesty wore a crimson velvet 
mantle, a shp of white satin« wrought with 
ffold, and a oo^tly ^irdet of briUiaots, in tha 
forms of Maltese eroases and strawberry 
leaves, The peers amd peerewea in the 
Q^een'a carriages wore their robes, and 
parried their curonets. 
. The aj^^ranee of *' the Captain Genet- 
ral of the Royal Archers," the Duke of 
^iji^cleughi added a ohirahic interest to the 
^loae of the procession Hm Qmce wore a 
g^eei^, velvet costume) and, the eoUar and star 
^ th^, Order of the Gainer ; he was. mouo^ 
ed on a auperbly ^parisoned oharger> and 
Oilf rju94 hw S^ ^tick of; o^^ie, 

■ H ' "II I ■ 

fl3at0tmtiu(^ iXhheir. 
W« shall nei^ present to , the reader a feif 
details of the scene wit)^in, the Abbey before 
the arrival of the royal proceasion. 

As early aa half peat thvee •'clocks many 
persons who w^re provided with tidcets ^ 
adttis^on, were at t})e doors of the Abbeyw 
Th^ policeimen did not.come till fourVdocki 
by which time sa dense was the crowd that 
they could not reach the dp^n appropriated 
to the public. At half-pa«t foufi within half 
an hour of opening, tha. deors, there were itk 
the covered avenue leading to Poet^ Conie|r 
door not less than 700 persons, with their 
adnaission carda in their hands. At five the 
dooirs were opened,; and. by. aix Q*dOQk the 
«^eries and vaultings iWere^ foUy occupied. 
Tlie ladies, were chie% in fuU/oeurt^ dresses* 
and many of the g;entlen^e^ wore nayal or 
i^ilitary utiifom^. 

AH the filteen judges were present e four- 
teeii ol them sat on the two left hand^iW 
seats, in the. chpiiT) the uppermost ;neft the 
theatre. 1^ fiifteef^h of Oietlearned bench, 


. Iiord Ohwf Jmtiee DMunaa, took hit MUt 
al&oDg the piers. In the front corner of the 
Jud|{e»' bench, immediately looking on the 
theatre, and beside the north ttansept, hairiiq; 
in fiict one of the best views in the Abbey, 
was the Lord Mavor in his robes of state. 
In this box were also seated the Vice Chan- 
cellor and the Master of the Rolls in their 
robes of state. The Privy Councillors, who 
in their state dresses, looked like Artillery 
officers, sat at the back of the Judges. Next 
were the Aldermen of London, and below 
and intermiuKled with them were naval and 
military officers, the Masters in Chancery, 
the Queen's Sergeants, &c 

Before nine o'clock, the Peers and Peer- 
•esses had mostly arrived, and taken their 
seats in (he Transepts. The Archlnshops 
and Bishops had also arrived. 

At half-past nine o'clock, the members of 
the House of Commons took their seats in 
tlie galleries assigned to them ; and imme* 
diately afterwards the doors were closed 
against all persons but Her Majesty, her 
official attendants, and the foreign Ministers. 
At ten, the great officers of state who were 
appointed to carry the regaKa^ assembled in 
the Jerusalem Chamber, to receive the dif- 
ferent articles which they had to bear dur- 
ing this important day. In less than a 
quarter of an hour afterwards, a discharge 
of twenty-one guns gave notice to the in- 
mates of the Abbey that the Royal Proces- 
sion had started iiom Buckingham JE^dace. 
Abonteleven, t^e Duke of Nemours entered 
.the Abbey, aB4 conversed for some time 
with the noblemen whom he found in the 
theatre, before he went to the Royal box. 
^Shortly afterwards, the Ambassadors Extra- 
ordinary from Foreign Powers began to ar- 
rive, and by the magnificence of their dresses, 
and by the number of their suite, excited 
considerable admiration. Marshal Soult 
was received with loud plaudits, which ap- 
peared to affect the venerable warrior.* 

* This merited compjisaeat wm exactly what ge- 
nerous oppobentf mif ht be expected to award to aa 
old foe now for the flrtt time on Euglbh foil, ae the 
repreaentatlve of a monarch at peace with onr sove- 
reisn. Ai the venerable marshal, who b some little 
taller than his old antagonist the Duke of Welling- 
ton, entered the choir, he was saluted with a cordial 
grasp of the hand by an English officer stationed 
among the Knights or the Bath ; during the neater 
part of the ceremony the Marshal was staikdnig in 
tlie Ambassadors* box immediately opposite the 
Doke of WeUiiigton.— 0/06*. 

Prince Bsterhasy wai aJbloii m nmdh a|* 
nrired as his dnunonds, which, whMi tiki 
sun was on them, glistened, to use a phrant 
of Scott, ** tike a griaxy.** the Tarklah 
Ambassador was also the sul^ect of admii^ 
tion. The Dnchess of Kent was weloom^ 
with enthusiasm on her arrival, as were also 
the Dukes of Sossex, and the Duke and 
Duchess of Cambri<^, and the Prinoesa 
Angusta. The Dnke;of Wellington wot 
g^eted with loud cheering. At half-past 
eleven, the offl^em of the Army, and the 
Dean and Prebendaries of Westmnister, 
habited in full canonicals, marshalled 

selves in order to receive her Maj«al^. 
Another diichavge of cannon, and Immein- 
ately afterwards the cheers of the peo^, 
the music of the bands, and the dash of pre- 
sented arms, gave notice that the QosiawM 
under the precincts of the Abl>«y ; thou^ 
the necessity of changing her rcAies in hev 
tiring-room prevented her from appearing 
wiihm it till nearly half an hoar aftmrarda. 
The gorgeous and glltteriag scene at this 
moment is thus well desaihed in the Timet, 
— <* Every part of the Abbey save the choir 
was filled. The. orchestra by itself formod 
a singular picture with its snrplieed asd 
red-hooded choristers, flanking on.both sidea 
a band of instrumental performed habited 
in scarlet Opposite to them were the 
Members of the Hoose of Commons, sparlc* 
ting^ with plumage, and dressed in every 
vanety of uniform which is knostrn to thie 
military service of our country. In the 
north transept were the peeresses, Making 
the temple bright b^ the display 6f their 
beauty and the brilliancy of their deeoro* 
tions. In the (south transept, again, were 
the peers, a moving mass of^gtitterng groa- 
deilr — 

" ib« abetract of this kingdoai. 

la all the beauty, state, and worth it hd^** 

Under such circumstances Her Mnesljr 
entered the Abbey, and immediately a huap 
dred instruments, and more than twice as 
many voices, rang out their notes at once ; 
and the loud anthem blended with the ap- 
plauding shouts of the spectators echoed to 
the very roof of the Abbey. 

The procession then moved into the Choir 
in the following order : — 

The Prebendaries and Dean of Westminster. 

^ Oflloers of Arms. 

Comptroller of Her Majesty's Treasurer of Her Mi^Jetty's Houwbold. (attMdsd \n 

., w . . . H^nx)^^ *^o gentlemen,) bearing the Crimson Bag with the Medals 

Her Msietty's Vice Chamberiain, acting for the ^ a -a 

Lord Chamberlain of Her Mijeatv's Household ; 
attended by an Officer of the Jewel Office, bearing 
on a Cushion the Ruby Ring and the Sword for 
the offering. 
The Lord Privy Seal ; his Coronet carried by a 

The Lord Steward of Her Mi^esty*s HontehoM ; hfa 
" 'by a Page. 

Coronet carried I 

The Lord President of the CooneiL; his Coronet < 

The Lord Chaucdl<» of Ireland, attended by his Purse Bearer ; his Coronet carried by a Psse. 
The Lord Archbishop of Armagh, in his Rochet, with his Cap in his hand. 

Cfie Mivtot 





[Pbiob 3f 



9. The Nbw Stat* Ciiown. 



Coronation of dhmtn Tictotia. 

(jContinued from page 9.) 

Thk Princbssbs and the attendanti of their 
Royal HighneiMi were conducted by the 
officers of arms to the Royal box. 

The Princes of the Blood Royal were con- 
ducted to their teats as peers by the officers 
of arms. 

The Queen, ascending the theatre, passed on 
the south side of her throne to her chair of state 
on the south.eatft side of the theatre, beio); the 
recof^nition chair, and after her private devo- 
tion (kneelin|( on her faldstool,) took her seat, 
the Bishops, her supporters, standini^ on each 
fide $ the noblemen (tearing the four swords 
on her Majesty's right baud, the sword of 
ttate being nearest to the Royal person ; the 
Lord Great Chamberlain and the Lord High 
CJonstable on her left ; the other great officers 
of state, the noblemen t)earing the regalia, 
the Dean of Westminster, Deputy Garter and 
Black Rod standing near the Queen's chair ; 
the Bitthoim bearing the Bible, the Chalice, 
and the Patina, standing near the pulpit ; and 
the trainbearersi the Lord Chamberlain of the 
Household, and the Groom of the robes be- 
hind her Majesty. 

The several noblemen and personages in 
the procession then passed to their respective 

When the Queen had entered and taken 
tip her first position l)eside the Theatre at the 
south-east end, the Westminster boys shouted 
aloud from their gallery adjoining the orches- 
tra, in excellent concert, led on by the master 
of that Royal school, << Vivat Victoria Regina" 

The Queen, having <' reposed herself" in 
her chair before and below the throne, the 
ceremonies commenced with 

THB recognition: 
When, the-anthem being sung, the Arch- 
bishop of Canterbuiy advanced to the east 
part of the theatre, accompanied bv the Lord 
Chancellor, Lord Great Chamberlain, Lord 
High Constable, and Earl Marshal, (Garter 
King of Arms preceding them,) and made 
the Recognition thus t— '* Sirs, I here pre- 
sent unto you Queen Victoria, the undoubted ' 
Queen of this realm ; wherefore all you who 
are come this day to do your homage, are you 
willing to do the same ? The Archbishop 
and tlra Great Officers of State then proceeded 
to the other three sides of the theatre — south, 
west, and north, the Queen, meanwhile, stand- 
ing up by hfr chair towards each side as the re- 
cognition was made ; and the assembled i>eo- 
pie attesting their joyous loyalty and devotion 
by loud, simultaneous, and most enthusiastic, 
shouts of 

" God Savk Qusbn Victoria !" 
At the last recognition, the trumpets sounded, 
the drums beat, and the band struck up the 

National Anthem. Her Majesty then re- 
sumed her seat, and the Great Officers their 
position near her Majesty. The bearers oC 
the Regalia, during^the recognition, remained 
standing abiout the Queen. 


The Bible, Patina, and Cup being brought 
by the Bishops who had borne them, and 
placed upon the Altar, the Archbishop went 
to the same, put on his cope, and stood on 
the north side of it The Bishops who were 
to read the Litany also vefted themselves in 
their copes. The officers of the Wardrobe 
then spread a rich cloth of gold carpet and 
cushions for Her Majesty to kneel on, at the 
steps of the Altar. 

The Queen, supported by the Bishops of 
Durham and Bath and Wells, and attended 
by the Dean of Westminster, the Great Offi- 
cers, and the Lords that carried the Regalia 
going before her, proceeded to the Altar, and 
kneeling upon the steps made her fintt obla- 
tion of apall, or altar-cloth of gold, delivered 
by an officer of the Wardrobe to the Lord 
Great Chnmberlain, and by him kneeling to 
Her Mujesty ; and an ingot or wedge of gold 
of a pound weight, which the Treasurer of 
the Household delivered to the Lord Great 
Chamberlain, and he to Her Majesty, kneel- 
ing. The Queen delivered them to the 
Archbishop, standing (in which posture he 
received all other obliSions,) one after another, 
the pall to be reverently laid u|)on the altar, 
and the gold to be received into the oblation 
basin, and with the like reverence put upon 
the Altar. 

The Archbishop then said this prayer, the 
Queen still kneeling : — 

^ O God, who dwellest in the higjh and 
holy place, with them also who are of an 
humble spirit, look down mercifully upon this 
thy servant Victoria our Queen, here hum- 
bling herself before thee at thy footstool, and 
graciously receive these oblations, which, in 
humble acknowledgment of thy sovereignty 
over all, and of thy great bounty unto her in 
. particular, she hath now offered up unto thee, 
through Jesus Christ, our only mediator and 
advocate. Amen." 

The Queen then proceeded as before to 
the Chair of State, on the south side of the 

In the mean time, the Lords who bore the 
Regalia, except tho^e who carried the swords, 
went in onler near to the altar, and presented 
each what he carried to the Archbishop, who 
delivered them to the Dean of Westminster, 
to be placed upon the Altar. 


Was then read l^ the Bishops of Worcester 
and St. David's, kneeling at a faldstool 




■bove the steps, on the middle of the east 
fide of the theatre ; the choir did not read 
the res(>onse8, in order, we presumey conveni- 
ently to curtail the service. 

The Bishops having read the Litany, re- 
fomed their seats. 


Previons to the commencement of the Com- 
munioa Service, the choir sani^ the Sanctns ; 
« Holy, holy, holy, Lord God of Hosts,*' &c 
The Archbishop then began the Commu- 
nion Service. 'The Epistle was read by the 
Bishop of Rochester from 1 Peter y ii. 13. 
" Submit yourselves to every ordinance of 
man for the Lord's sake.** 
The Go-opel was read by the Bishop of Car- 
lisle, the Queen and the people stand ini^:. St. 
I Matthew, xxii. 15. << Then went the Phari- 
, sees, and took counsel how they might en- 
!■ tangle him in his talk,** &c. 
; The Service being concluded, the Bishops 

who had assisted returned to their seats. 


Was preached by the Btshop of London, who 
befiire the conclusion of the creed had as- 
cended the pulpit ,* the Queen sitting in her 
chair on the south side of the altar, with the 
Bishop of Durham standing on her right, and 
beyond him, on the same side, the noblemen 
carrying the swords; on her left hand, the 
Bishop of Bath and Wells, and the Lord 
Great Chaml>erlain. 

On the north side of the altar, the Arch- 
bishop of Canterbury sat in a purple velvet 
chair; near the Archbishop stood Garter 
King of Arms, and on the south side, east of 
the Queen's chair, nearer to the altar, the 
TktM. and Prebendaries of Westminster. 

The text was taken from the 2nd Chronicles, 
C. zxxiv, V. 31 — ^' and the king stood in his 
place and made a covenant before the Lord, 
to walk after the Lord, and to keep his com- 
mandments, and his testimonies, and his 
statutes, with all his heart, and with all his 
soul, to perform the words of the covenant 
which are written in this book." 


The sermon being concluded, and her Ma- 
jesty having on Monday, the 20th day of 
November, 1837, in the presence of the two 
Houses of Parliament, made and signed the 
declaration, the Archbishop advanced towards 
the Queen, and, standing before her, ad- 
dressed her Majesty thus : — 

Madam, is your Majesty willing to take 
the oath ? And the Queen answering, — I am 

. The Archbishop ministered these tjues- 
tions ; and the Queen, having a copy of the 
printed form and order of the Coronation 
Service in her hands, answered each question 
severally, as follows : — 

iUdibiilu^— Will you aoleoiDly promise and swe«r 
to govem the people of thit Uuiteii Kingdom of Great 
C 2 

BriUin and IreUnd, and the' dominions thereto be- 
longing, according to the statutes in Parliament 
'agreed on. and tt^ respective lawi and customs of 
the same? 

Queen — I solemnly promise so to do. 

Archbishop.— Wili you, to the utmost of yonr 
powvr, cause law aud justice, w mercy, to be executed 
lu all your judgments ? 

Queen— I Aw. 

Arclihishop.— Will you, to tlie utmost of your 
power, maintain the laws of God. the true professioo 
of the Gospel, and the Protestaut reformed religion 
established by law? And will you roaintaiu aud 
preserve inviolably the settlement of the united 
church of England and Ireland, aud the doctrine, 
worship, discipline. And government thereof, as by 
law established within England and Ireland, aud the 
territories thereunto belonging ? And will you pre* 
serve unto the bishops and clergy of England and 
Ireland, and to the churches there committed to 
theh: charge, all such rights aud privileges as by law 
do. or shall appertain to them, or any of them ? 

Queen.— All this I promise to do. 

Then tl>e Queeu arising out of Iter chair, attended 
by her supporters, aud assisted by the Lord Great 
Chamberlaia, the Sword of State alone beinu' carried 
before Her Mwjesty. proceeded to the altar, where 
kneelmg on the cubhiou placed on the steps, and 
Uying her ri^ht hiiud ut>on the Holy Gospel in tho 
Greai Bible, which had been earned in the nroces- 
sion. aud was now brought from the altar uy Uie 
Archbishop, and tendered to her Mwjesty. she took 
the coronation oath, saving these words : — 

The things which I have here before promised, I 
will perform, aud keep. So help me God. 

Then the Queen kissed the book, and to a 
transcript of the oath set her royal sign ma- 
nual ; the Lord Chamberlain of the Household 
holding a silver standish for that purpose, 
delivered to him by an officer of the Jewel- 


The Queen having returned to her chair 
on the south side of the altar, while kneeling 
at her faldstool, the; hymn " Feni, Creator 
S^irituSf^ was sung by the choir, the Arch- 
bishop of Canterbury reading the first line. 

The hymn being ended, the Archbishop 
read the following prayer preparatory to the 
anointing : — 

** O Lord, Holy Father, who by anointing 
with oil didst of old make and consecrate 
kings, priests, and prophets, to teach and go- 
vern thy people Israel, bless and sanctify thy 
chosen servant Victoria, who by our office and 
ministry is now to be anointed with this oil 
[here the archbishop laid his hand upon the 
ampulla], and consecrated Queen of this 
realm; strengthen her, O Lord, with the 
Holy Ghost the comforter; confirm and stab- 
lish her with thy free and princely spirit, the 
spirit of wisdom and government, the spirit of 
counsel and ghostly strength, the spirit of 
ktK^wledge and true godliness, and fill her, O 
Lord, with the spirit of thy holy fear, now 
aud for ever. Amen." 

The choir then sang the anthem : — ** Za- 
doc the priest, and Nathan the prophet" 

At the commencement of the anthem the 
Queen, rising from her devotions, went be- 
fore the altar, attended by her supporters, 
where the Mistress of the Robes, assisted by 





the Lord Great Ghatoberlain, divested her 
Majesty of her crimson robe, which was car- 
ried by the Groom of the Robes into St Ed- 
ward's Chapel. The Queea then Mat down in 
KingEdward*8 chair, which was covered with 
cloth of i^old, with a faldstool before it. Four 
Knights of the Garter— namelv» the Duke of 
Rutkndf the Marquis of Anglesey, the Mar- 
quis of Exeter, and the Duke of Buccleugh, 
(summoned by Deputy Garter,) then held 
over her Majesty a rich pall of silk, or cloth 
of gold, delivered to them by the Lord Cham- 
berlain, who had received it from an officer 
of the wardrobe. The anthem being con- 
cluded, the Dean of Westminster, taking the 
ampulla and spoon from off the altar, held 
them ready, pouring some of the holy oil into 
the spoon, with which the Archbishop then 
anointed the Queen, in the form of a cross, 
on the crown of the head, and on the palms 
of both the hands, pronouncing the words — 

<* Be thou anointed with holy oil, as kings, 
priests, and prophets, were anointed," &c. 

I'he Dean of Westminster then laid the 
ampulla and sipoon upon the altar, and the 
Queen kneeling at the faldstool, the Arch- 
bishop standing on the north side of the 
altar> pronounced a prayer or blesning over 
her. The prayer being ended, the Queen 
aroM and resumed her seat in St. Edward^s 


The Spurs were brought from the altar by 
the Dean of Westminsttfr, and delivered to 
the Lord Great Chamberlain, who, kneehng 
down, presented them to the Queen, who 
forthwith returned them to be laid upon the 
altar. Lord Viscount Melbourne, who car- 
ried the Sword of State, now delivered it to 
the Lord Chamberlain (who gave it to a^- 
officer of the Jewel-house, to be deposited 
in the Traverse in King Edward's Chapel), 
aiid received in lieu thereof, from the Lord 
Chamberlain, another sword, in a scabbard 
of purple velvet, which lie delivered to the 
Archbishop, who, laying it on the altar, 
said the following prayer : — 

** Hear our prayers, O Lord, we beseech 
thee, and so direct and support thy servant, 
Queen Victoria, that she may not bear the 
sword in vain, but may use it as the minister 
of God for the terror and punishment of 
evil-doers, and for the protection and encou- 
ragement of those that do well, through 
Jesus Christ, our Lord. Amen.'' 

Then the Archbishop took the sword from 
off the altar, and (the Archbi9hops of York 
and Armagh, the Bishops of London, Win- 
chester, and others going along with him) 
delivered it into the Queen's right hand, 

«* Receive this kingly sword, brought now 
from the altar of God, and delivered to you 
by the hands of us the Bbhops and servants 

of God, though unworthy. With this sword j 
do justice, stop the growth of iniquity, pro* ' 
tect the holy church of God, help and defend 
widows and orphans, restore the things that 
h^vegone to decay, maintain the things that 
are restored, punish and reform what ii^ 
amiss, and confirm what is in good order ; 
that, doing these things, you may be gtori- 
ous in all virtue ; and so faithfully serre oar 
Lord Jesus Christ in this life, that you may 
reign for ever with Him in the life which ia 
to come. Amen.'' 

Then the Queen, rising up, and going to 
the altar, offered the sword there in the 
scabbard, and delivered it to the Archbishop, 
who placed it on the altar; after which the 
Queen returned and sat down in King Ed- 
ward's chair. The sword was then re- 
deemed for one hundred shillings by Vis- 
count Melbourne, who, receiving it from off 
the altar by the Dean of Westminster, and 
drawing it out of the scabbard (which he 
delivered to an officer of the wardrobe),' 
bore it unsheathed before her Majesty during 
the remainder of the solemnity. 


Then, the Queen rising, the Imperial Man- 
tle, or Dalmatic Robe, of cloth of gold, 
lined or furred with ermine, was, by an 
officer of the wardrobe, delivered to th« 
Dean of Westminster, and by him put upon 
the Queen, standing; the Queen, having^ 
received it, sat down. The Orb with the 
Cross WHS then brought from the altar by 
the Dean of Wej»tmin«ter, and delivered into 
the Queen's right hand by the Archbishop, 
pronouncing a blessing and exhortation ; 
a(ter which the Queen returned her orb to 
the Dean, who placed the same on the altar. 


An officer of the Jewel> house now delivered 
to the Lord Chamberlain, who delivered to 
the Archbishop, the Queen's ring, in which 
a table jewel is enchased ; the Archbishop 
put it on the fourth finger of Her Majes^r's 
right hand, saying, '< Receive this ring," ie. 

Then the Dean of Westminster brought 
the Sceptre and Rod to the Archbishop, and 
the Lord of the Manor of Worksop (who 
claims to hold an estate by the service of 
presenting to the Queen a right hand glove 
on the day of her coronation, and supporting 
the Queen's right arm whilst she holds the 
Sceptre with the Cross) delivered to the 
Queen a pair of rich gloves, and, as occasion 
happened afterwards, supported Her Ma- 
jesty's right arm, or held the sceptre by her 

The gloves being put on, the Archbishop 
delivered the Sceptre with the Cross into 
the Queen's right hand, saying : "Receive the 
Royal Sceptre, the ensign of kingly power 
and justice. Then he delivered Uie Rod 



The Lord Aichbbbop of York, fat hb Roeliet, with hb Cap in hk hand, 
on^ . _J^^ "^^H.S**'*^^**^' *"*"^ ^ *»^ Punti-Bwuws hb CoraiwC ewried by a VtkfB. ' 
Th9 I^ord Archbiahop of Canterbury, in hb Roehet, wHh hb C^ hi hbhand, attended 1^ two Geo leMta. 


Her Royrf HighneM the Dochen of Cambmmi. in a Robe of EsUte of Purple Velvet, and %reariaff « 
Circlet of Gold on her Head. Her Train borne by Lady Caroline Campbell, aseisted by 
a Gentleman of het Honsehold. The Coronet of her Royal Htohnree 
^ ^ borne by Vttcount VUliera. 

Rer Royal Hififanese the Ducheae of Kent, in a Robe of Eaute of Purple Velvet, and wearinf a Circlet of 
Gold UD her Head. Her Train borne by Lady Flora Haatinga. aaabted by a Gentleman of her 
Hooaehold. The Coronet of Her Royal Hiifhneea borne by Viaeonnt Morpeth. 
Her Royal Hifhneaa the Dueheaa of GLOtrciarBa. in a Robe of Eatate of Porple Velvet, and wearing a 
Circlet of Gold on her Head. Her Train borne by Lndy CaroUoe LeMe. aaabted by a 
Gentleman of her Household. The Coronet of her Royal Hi^neaa 
borne by Viaeount Emlyn. 
St. Edward*a Staff. The Golden Spura. The Seeptre with the 

borne by the borne by Croaa. borne b\' the 

Buke of Roxburirh ; Lord Byron ; Doke of Clevdand ; 

bb Coronet carried lib Coronet carried hb Coronet eaoried 

bva Pase. by a Page. by a Page, 

The Third Sword, Curtana, The Second Swotd. 

borne by the borne by the borne bv the 

If anineaa of Weatminater ; Duke of Devonahire ; Dnke of Sutherland ; 

hb Coronet carried hb Coronet carried kb Coronet carried 

by a Page. by a Page. by a Page. 

Black Rod. Deputy Garter. 

The Lord WiUoughby d*Eieaby. aa Lord Great Chamberlain of Enghuid ; hb Coronet borne by a Pt^e. 

Hb Roval HIghneaa the Duke of Cambbtd«s. in hb Robea of EaUte. carrying hb Baton aa FieM Bfcnhal } 

hb Coronet borne by the Marqoeaa of Oranby ; hb Train borne by If^jor-general Sir Willbm Goma^ 

Hb Royal Highneaa the Duke of Svaasx. in hb Robes of Eatate ; hb Coronet carried by Vbconnt Anaol^ ; 

hb Train borne by the Hon. Edward Gore. 

The High Conatable of Ireland, 
hb Cetonet borne by a Page. 
of England. 
Tlie Duke of Norfolk. 

vrith hb Staff: 

attended by two Pagea. 

The Sceptre vrith the Dove. 

borne bj the 

Duke (rfRMunoad ; 

Us Coronet carried 

by a Page. 

The Patina 

borne by 



The Sword of State. 

borne by 

Viaeount Melbourne ; 

hb Coronet 

carried by a Page. 

St. Edward'a Crown. 

borne by the 

Lord High Steward. 

Duke of Hamilton ; 

attended by two Pagea. 

The Bible. 

borne by 



The High ConaUble of Scotland. 
Earl of ErroU ; 
hb Coronet borne by a Page. 
The Lord High Cooatoble of Engbnd. 
the Duke of Wellington, 
with hb Staff and Baton aa FWd* 
attended by two Pages. 
The Orb. 
borne by the 
Duke of Somerset : 
hb Coronet carried 
by a Page. 

borne by 








in her R<mil Robe of Crimson ' The 

Velvet, rarreil vrith Ermine. ' BUhop 

and bordered with Gold Lace ; of 

wearing the Collars of Her Orders; Durhaau 

on her Head a Circlet of Gold. 
„ Her M^esty*a Tnin borne by 

I«dy A. PM^ Lady A. W. Fitswilliam. Lady C. A. G. LennoK. Lady C. L. W. Stanhope. 

Lady F. E. Cowper. Lady M. A. F. Grimatou. Lady M. A. L. Talbot Lady L. H. Jenkfaiaon. 
Aasbled by the Lord Chamberlain of the Household, (hb Coronet borne by a Page.) followed by the 

Groom of the Robes. 
The Duchess of Sutherland. Mbtress of the Robes. 
Mardiione^ of Lansdowne. First Lady of the BeddMunber. 
Ladbs of the Bedchamber-vb. 
ConntessofChariemont. Marchtoneas of T%viatoek. 

Lady Lyttleton. Counteaa of Mulgrave. 

Lady Portman. Lady Barham. 

Maids <^ Honour— vix. 
HMk Margavvt Dillon. Hon. Mbs Lbter. Hon. Harriet Pitt. Hon. Matilda PMet 

Hon. Mbs Cavendish. Hon. Mbs Spring Rbe. Hon. Caroline Coeka. Hon. Mbs Mnrxay. 
Women of the Bedchamber. 
Hon. Mrs. Band. Lady Caroline Barrington. Viscountess Forbes. 

Lndy.Gardinsr. Lady CtMoAotte Copley. Hon.'Mra. CanpbelL 

The Gold Stbk ^the Lift; Guarda in waiting ; The Maater of the Horae'; 

hb Coronet borne by a Page. hb Coronet borne bv a Page. 

The Caplain41eueral of the Royal Archer Guard of Scotland : hb Coronet bpme by a Page.' 
The Cantain of the Yeomen of the Guard : The Captain of the Band of GentleB^Mi at Ams; 

nb Coronet borne by a Page. hb Coronet borne by a Page. 

Keeper of Her Mi^esty*s Privy Puree. 
BMifn of the Yeomen of the Guard. Lbutenant of the Yeomen of the Gnard. 

Clerk of the Cheeqne to the Yeemen of the Guard. 
Baowof'Ihe Yeomen of the Guard. Exonsof the Yeomen of the Guard. 

Twenty Yeomen of the Guard. 

(Gmeluded in the Supplementary Sheet, puhUehed with the preeeni Ne.) 

, MsTgavet Dillon. 
Bon. Miss Cavendish. 

Lady Harriet Clive. 
Lady Theresa Digby. 





with the Dove into the Queen't left hand, 
sayini^, « Receive the rod of equity and 
mercy," <fec. 


The Archbishop, standing before the altar, 
then took the crown (St Edward's) into his 
hands, and laying it again before him upon 
the altar, said, " U God, who crownest thy 
* faithful servants with mercy and loving kind- 
ness, look down upon this thy servant Vic- 
toria, our Queen, who now in lowly devotion 
boweth her head to thy divine majesty [here 
the Queen bowed her head] ; and as thou 
dost this day set a crown of pure gold upon 
her head, so enrich her royal heart with thy 
heavenly grace, and crown her with all princely 
virtues, which may adorn the high station 
wherein thou hast placed her, through Jesus 
'Christ, our Lord, to whom be honour and 

\for ever and ever. Amen.'* 
e Queen still sitting in St. Edward's 
. the Archbishop, assisted by the same 
bishops and Bishops as before, left the 
. the Dean of Westminster brought the 
, and the Archbishop taking it of him, 
Tt Uly placed it upon the Queen's head. 

iediately Her Majesty was crowned, 
the irs and Peeresses put on their coronets, 
Bish js their caps, and Kings-at-arms their 
crowns. The efiect was magnificent in the 
extreme. The shouts which followed were 
really tumultuous, and all but made " the 
vaulted roof rebound." A signal being given 
the instant the Crown was placed on the 
Queen's head, the great guns at the Tower, 
and those in St. James's Park, fired a Royal 
salue, (41 guns,) which gave an additional but 
somewhat startling solemnity to the occasion. 
The acclamation ceasing, the Archbishop 
said — '* Be strong and of a good courage.'* 
The Anthftm followed. '< The Queen shall 
rejoice in thy strength, O Lord." 


The Dean then took the Holy Bible from 
off the altar, and delivered it to the Arch- 
bishop, who, with the same Archbishops and 
Bishops as before, presented it to the Queen, 
. saying : '^ Our Gracious Queen ; we present 
you with this book, the most valuable thing 
that this world affords," &c. The Queen 
delivered the Bible to the Archbishop, who 
gave it to the Dean, to be placed again upon 
the altar. 


And now the Queen having been thus 
. anointed and crowned, and having received 
all the ensigns of royalty, the Archbishop 
solemnly blessed Her Majesty; all the 
Bishops, with the rest of the Peers, following 
every part of the Benediction, with a loud 
, and hearty " Amen.'* 

The Choir then began to sing the Te Deum, 

and the Queen went to the chair on which 

« Her Majesty first sat on the east side of the 

throne, the two Bishops her supporters, th« 
Great Officers, and other Peers, attending her, 
every one in his place, the two swordi being 
carried before her, and there '* reposed 

A gleam of sunshine, which now broke 
through the south, great, rose window, lighted 
right on Her Majesty's crown, which sparkled 
like a galaxy, and lent a still more daxiUng 
brilliancy to the scene. 


The Te Deum being ended, the Queen 
ascended the Theatre, and was lilted up into 
her Throne ; all the Great Officers, those who 
bore the swords and the sceptres, and the rest 
of the nobles, stood round about the steps of 
the throne, and the Archbishop, standing 
before the Queen, said : 

'< Stand firm, and hold fast from hence- 
forth the seat and state of royal imperial dig- 
nity, which is this day delivered unto you in 
the name, and by the authority of Almighty 
God, and by the hands of us the bishops and 
servants of God, though unworthy : and as 
you see us to approach nearer to Grod's altar, 
so vouchsafe the more graciously to continue 
to us your royal favour and protection. And 
the Lord God Almighty, whose ministers we 
are, and the stewards oi his mysteries, estab- 
liihyour throne in righteousness, that it may 
stand fast for evermore, like as the Sun before 
Him, and as the faithful Witness in Heaven. 

{The Large Bngravine in the Sheei pui» 
lished with the present Numberf represents 
this most interesting scene.) 


The Exhortation being ended, all the Peers 
did their homage publicly and solemnly to 
the Qaeen upon the theatre. The Archbishop 
kneeling down before Her Majesty's knees, 
the rest of the Bishops on either hand and 
about him did their homage together, for the 
shortening of the ceremony, the Ardibishop 
saying : — 

I, William, Archbishop of Canterbury, [and 

so every one of the rest, I, , Bishop of 

, repeating the rest audibly after the 

Archbishop,] will be faithful and true, and 
faith and truth will bear, unto you our So- 
vereign Lady, and your heirs, kings or <|ueens 
of the United Kingdom of Great Britam and 
Ireland. And I will do, and truly acknow- 
ledge the service of the lands which I claim 
to hold ofyou as in right of the church. So 
help me God." 

The Archbishop then kissed the Queen's 
hand, and the rest of the Bishops present 
after him. 

Then the other Peers of the realm did 
their homage in like manner; the Dukes 
first by themselves, and so the Marquisses, 
the £iaTls, the Viscounts, and the Baront, 



tfveraUy; the first of each o^«r kaeeline 
before Her Majesty, and the rest with and 
about him, all putting; off their coronets, the 
first of each class beginning and the rest say- 
ing after him : 

*' I, N.t dake or earl, &c,, of N., do become 
your liege man of life and limb, and of 
earthly worship, and faith and truth I will 
bear unto you, to live and die against all 
manner of folks. So help me God." 

This part of the ceremony was peculiarly 
affecting, especially when the Duke of Sus- 
sex embraced Her Mnjesty, and was obliged 
to be led off the theatre by the Peers around 

The Peers having done their homage, stood 
all together round about the Queen; and 
«ach class or degree going by themselves in 
order, putting off their coronets, singly re-as- 
ceuded the throne, and, stretching forth their 
handS) touched the crown on Her Mnjesty's 
head, engaging, by that ceremony, to oe ever 
ready to support it with all their power, and 
then each kissed the Queen's hand. 

An incident occurred during this part of 
the ceremony, which, in interest will outlive 
most of the occurrences of the day. The 
venerable Lord Rolle, who is in his 82nd 
year, in attempting to ascend the theatre to 
greet her Majesty, stumbled, and fell back 
from the second step to the floor. He was 
immediately raised, and supported by two 
noble lords in thei area. The Queen seemed 
to view the occurrence with emotion, and on 
the noble baron*s again presenting himself. 
Her Majesty tose irom the throne of state, 
and, advancing several paces, took the noble 
lord by the hand, which was a fresh signal 
for renewed and most hearty acclamations. 

When the Peers had done their homage, 
the House of Commons immediately gave, 
every man, nine loud and hearty cheers, ac- 
companied with cries of " Qod Save Queen 
Victoria!" The multitudes in the vaultings 
and galleries caught up this spirited manifes- 
tation, and repeated the shouts until the 
** high imbowed roof" rang with an univer- 
sal acclaim. 

Meanwhile, the Earl of Surrey, as Treasurer 
of the Queen's household, threw about among 
the choirs and lower galleries the Coronation 
Medals; which caused more amusement 
than accorded with the dignified scene across 
the theatre. In the sct-amble for the pieces 
- ^of silver, venerable judges, grave privy coun- 
cillors, portly aldermen, Knights of the Bath, 
and general officers— -alike took part : the 
Guardsmen were very active in diving among 
the benches for these treasures, and two 
might be seen struggling for one medal ; a 
few swords were snapped, and all rank was 
forgotten in the turbulent demonstration of 
. loyalty. 

During the performance of the honuige, 
the Queen delivered the. Sceptre with the 

Cross to be held by the Duke of Norfolftr; 
the other Sceptre and Rod with the Duve wav 
borne by the Duke of Richmond, who had 
carried it in the procession ; and the Choir 
sung the Anthem : 

** This is the day which the Lord hath 
made, we will rejoice and be glad in it." 

When the homage was ended, the drums 
beat, the trumpets sounded, and all the peopto 

God save Queen Victoria. 

LoDg live Queen Victoria. 

May tlie Queen live for ever. 

The solemnity of the Coronation being 
thus ended, the Archbishop lef^ the Queen in 
her throne, and went down to the altar. 


The Archbishop then commenced .reading 
the Communion Service, and the Queeu hav- 
ing descended from her throne, proceeded to 
the steps of the altar, where taking off her 
crown, and delivering it to the Lord Great 
Chamberlain to hold, she knelt down. Bread 
and wine were then brought out of King 
Edward's chapel, the bread upon the Patina, 
by the Bishop of Rochester, and the wine in 
the Chalice, by the Bishop of Carlisle ; and 
being offered by the Queen, were placed upon 
the altar, and covered with a linen cloth, by 
the Archbishop, who first said a prayer. The 
Queen then made her second oblation of a 
purse of gold, Which the Archbishop received 
into the basin, and placed upon the altar. 
Another prayer was then said, the Queen 
went to her chair on the south side of the 
altar, and knelt down at her faldstool, and the 
Archbishop prayed " for the whole state of 
Christ's church militant here on earth.'' 
Then followed the Exhortation, the General 
Confession, the Absolution, and Consecra- 
tion ; when the Queen advanced to the altar, 
and kneeling down, received the Bread from 
the Archbishop, and the Cup from the Bishop 
of Rochester. The Queen having communi- 
cated, put on her crown, and taking the Scep- 
tres in her hands again, repaired to h^r 
throne. Then the Archbishop proceeding 
with the post-communion. 

The Choir then sang the Anthem,*' Hal- 
lelujah : for the Lord God Omnipotent reign- 
eth," &c. 

The effect of this piece, and indeed of 
• the whole of the music, it is impossible ade- 
quately to describe: now soft and slow, 
sweeily stealing over the enchanted sense, 
now swelling into gr^deur, and bursting 
into glorious diapason, rousing, thrilling, 
awing, sQuUaubduing. 

The anthem being finished, the Qiietn 
left her chair .of state, and proceeded to the 
altar, accompanied by the great o^Bcen of 
state, where the Archbishop of Canterbury 
read the final prayers and Blessing. 


The whole Coronation office being thus 


pcr^bciBttd) the Que«u, attended and aocom- 
fMinied as before, the four swords bein^ car- 
ried before her, descended from her tnrone 
crowned, and carrying her sceptre and rod, 
passed on through the door on the south 
side of the altar into St. Edward's cha{)el ; 
and as she passed by the altar, the rest of 
the Regalia lying upon it were delivered by 
the IXsan of Westminster to the Lords that 
carried them in the procession ; and so they 
proceeded in state into the chapel, the organ 
and other instruments all the while playing. 
The Queen then delivered the Sceptre with 
the dove to the Archbishop, who laid it u{>on 
the altar. Her Majesty was then disrobed 
of her imperial mantle, and arrayed in her 
royal. robe of purple velvet, by the Lord Great 

The Archbishop then placed the Orb in 
Her Majesty's left hand. The gold Spurs 
and St. Edward's stafi', were given into the 
hands of the Dean of Westminster, and by 
him laid upon the altar ; which being done, 
the Archbishop and Bishops divested them- 
selves of their copes, and left them there ; 
proceeding in their usual habits. 

Her Majesty then proceeded through the 
choir to the west door of the Abbey, in the 
same manner as she came; wearing her 
crown, and bearing in her right hand the 
Sceptre with the cross, and in her left the 
Orb; all Peers wearing their coronets, and 
Uie Archbishops aud Bishops their caps. 

The Queen, on leaving the theatre, was 
loudly cheered by the Peers, who took off and 
waved their coronets with enthusiasm; and by 
evei)' person in the Abbey. 

Her Majestv went through the long and 
fatiguing services of the day with iierfect 
composure, Belf-pi)S8ession, and dignity; and, 
in theopinion of the Thnes" reporter, kept up an 
eager interest in the whole proceedings. She 
walked remarknbly well, gracefully, and with 
great ease, so as to refute some absuid ru- 
mours as to weakness in Her Majesty's feet. 
The heavy velvet train worn by the Queen 
was Imrue by eight daughters of Peers, who, 
throughout the Whole day, kept near the 
royal perhon. 

The choir was admirably managed by Sir 
George Smart, who led in his usual excel- 
lent style. The orchestra comprised our 
finest artists, vocal and instrumental ; fe- 
males being introduced emong the singers^ 
for the first timd on such an occasion. 
Owing to the distnnce of the altar Irum the 
choir, the time for commencing the dif- 
ferent pieces could not be heard, but was 
taken from signals given by wuving a small, 
white flag ; this office being most success- 
fully performed by Mr. Joseph Gwilt, the 

The coronation ceremonial it was re- 
marked 'by all who had the opportunity of 

making the conaparisonf was infinitely iap«- 
rior to that of George IV., which was com. 
plex and tedious ; and that of William^ IV. 
and Adelaide fell infinitely short of it in 
gpraadeur and effect 


Throughout the royal route, the assenif 
blage, dense as it was in the morning, had 
nuineronsly increased, probably from th0 
calculation of seeing Her Majesty wearing 
her crown, and the Princes and Princesses^ 
Peers and Barons, wearing their corooeta. 
The hour of return was later than had been 
expected, owing to some difficulty in re- 
arranging the procession. The Queen did 
not quit the Abbey until twenty- tive mU 
nutes to five o'clock, when the bells fired, 
joined by the salute in the adjoining park. 
There were several halts in the procession, 
the state coach stopping on three occasions 
for a few minutes. The more distiiir 
guished personages were received on their 
return with the same favour as they had 
been in the morning ; and the enthusiasm 
towards the Queen was almost overpower- 
ing. Her Majesty reached the pslace at 
alMut five o'clock, and did not evince any 
peculiar symptom of fatigue. The band 
played the National Anthem, the maKsive 
gates were thrown open, the magnificent 
equipnge passed through the marble arch, 
and the last salute of artillery announced to 
the metropolis the return of the Queen to 
the palace. 

ftf^t Neta) State Crotain, ^c. 
(See the Engraving, in the present Sheet,) 

Thv several Regalia employed in the ooro- 
tions of our sovereigns will be found mi- 
nutely described in the Mirror, vol. xviiL 
p. 146 to 149. 

The Engraving represents a few articles 
some of which were made by Messrs. Run* 
die and Bridge for the present occiision, 
which it will be interesting to describe for 
the beauty of their manufacture, as well at 
for the costliness and rarity of the materials. 

1. The Sword for the Offering. 

2. Sceptre with the Cross, 

3. Sceptre with the Dove. 

4. The Sword op State, borne by Vis- 
count Melbourne. It is a large two-handed 
sword, having a splendid scahbsrd of crim- 
son velvet, decorated with gold plates of the 
royal badges in order us follows :->At the 
point is the orb or mound, then the royal 
crest of a lion standing on an imperial 
crown ; lower down are the portcullis, harp, 
thistle, fleur-de-lis, and rose. Nearer the 
hilt is a portcullis repeated. Next are the 
royal arms and supporters, and lastly the 
harp, thistle, <fee., occur over again. The 
handles and pommel of the sword are em- 
bossed with similar devices, and the cross is 



/vnned of the royal supporters, having a 
rose within a laurel on one side and a^f^r- 
d^Us on the other. 

5. Conm^i of Norroy, King-aUArmSf 
with crimson velvet cap. 

6. Coronet of Garter King-at^Arms, with 
crimson velvet cap. 

7. Coronet of H. R, H. the Duche$$ of 
Kentt set with ^ems; with purple velvet 
cap and ermine nm. 

8. Coronet of H. R, ff, the Duke of Sue- 
iete, set with gems ; with crimson velvet 
cap and ermine rim. 

9. The New State Cboww, nmeh more 
tastefully designed than the crown of 
George IV., or William IV. The crown 
made for the former of these monarchs was 
much too large for the head of her present 
Majesty. The crown which she wore 
weighs little more than dibs., whilst that 
of George IV. weighed 5 J lbs. The new 
crown is composed of hoops of gold, inclos- 
ing a cap of deep purple or rather blue 
velvet ; the hoops oeing completely covered 
*with precious stones, surmounted with a 
ball, covered with small diamonds, and hav- 
ing a Maltese cross of brilliants on the top 
of it. This cross has in its centre a splen- 
did sapphire ; the rim of the crown is clus- 
tered with bnllinnts, and ornamented with 
fleure'de-Us and Maltese crosses, equally 
rich. Tn the front of the Maltese cross 
which is in the front of the crown is the 
enormous heart-shaped ruby, traditionally 
said to have been worn by the Black Prince 
at the battle of Cressy, and by Henry V. 
at the battle of Ag^ncourt. Beneath, in the 
circular rim, is an immense, long sapphire. 
There are many other precious gems, eme- 
ralds, rubies, sapphires, and several small 
clusters of drop pearls. The arches of the 
crown are depressed in the centre, instead 
of rising almost to a point, like those in the 
crown of George IV.; an alteration by 
some persons not considered an improve- 
ment. Again, the circlet and arches being 
covered with diamonds, of which it is known 
that the immediate settings is always of 
silver, leaves no gold visible, and gives a 
white and rather poor effect to the crown, 
so as to make it appear as if composed ojf 
silver. With this excej)tion, it is a most 
dazzling and splendid diadem. In its con- 
struction have been employed the several 
jewels contained in the << Queen's rich 
crown," valued at 111,900/., in which esti- 
mate, however, are only included the dia- 
monds and a portion of the pearls. The 
rim is lightly trimmed with ermine, which 
fitted immediately upon the royal brow. 

The Orb is a ball of gold, six inches 
in diameter encompassed with a band or 
fillet of gold, embellished with roses of dia- 
monds, encircling other precious stones, and 
edged with pearls. On the top is a remark- 
ab^ fine amethyst of an oval form, near an 

inch and a half in height, which is the 1 
or pedestal of a cross of gold, three and a 
quarter inches high, incrusted with dia- 
monds, and adorned with a sapphire, an 
emerald, and several large pearls. The 
whole height of the orb and cross is eleven 
inches. — PlanchS. 

As many of the robes, dsc. employed in 
the coronation are claimed by parties m the 
ceremony, new articles were manufactured 
for the occasion. Among these are the 
Dalmatic robe, or open pall, composed of 
cloth of gold, figured in silver and silks. 
The Supertunica has palm in a running pat- 
tern, of serpentine form, in the loops of 
which is a rose, then a thistle, then a roae, 
and then a shamrock, alternately— the whole 
of dead gold, and shaded with their own co- 
lours. The Armilla is of cloth of gold, em- 
broidered in silver, and fringed with gold 
bullion ; it is lined with crimson satin, and 
does the highest credit to our Spitalfields 
manufacturers as a beautiful specimen of 
the art of wearing. 

The Chair of State, or Throne, is claimed 
by the Lord Chamberlain ; and the purple 
velvet cushion, chair and faldstool, used by 
the Archbishop of Canterbury become the 
perquisite of that dignitary. The royal 
habits pat off in the Abbey, the several ob- 
lations, articles of furniture, and the cloth 
on which the Queen walked from the west 
door to the theatre, are claimed by tha 
Dean and Chapter of Westminster; who 
likewise have the new robes prorided for 
them on the occasion. 


Tickets of eveiy description were on sala i 
those granted to Peers, in many cases fetched 
from ten to forty-five guineas each; and 
tickets for the vaultings were sold iot fifteen 
and twenty guineas each. For some days 
previous, the newspapers contained strings of 
advertisements of tickets for sale: one of 
these was an admission to the best part of 
the Abbey, with the privilege of going upon 
the roof of the building, so that the holder 
might witness the out-door procession, and 
return to his seat io time for its entrance into 
the choir: price, thirty guineas. 

The charges for tickets at the coronation 
of George IV., varied from fifty guineas 
downward. Seats in the line of the proces- 
sion were let at five guineas prerious to the 
day, but they fell on the anernoon of the 
ceremony to two-and-sixpence each, and 
many were unoccupied even at that price. 
At the coronation of William IV. ten gui- 
neas was the highest sum paid for a seat ; 
the average was from one to two guineas. 
On Thursday last, the prices varied from ten 
shillings to five guineas. Houses were taken 
by speculators, at from fifty to three hundred 
pounds, by which larue sums were realized.. 
We know of a small shop-window in Pall 



Mall, facing the Opera Colonnade, being let 
for fifteen pounds, and the first floor of the 
tame house for twenty-five pounds. Half-a- 
guinea was demanded for a place on the roof 
of a large house in Pall Mall. It is stated 
that twenty thousand spectators were accom- 
modated in the galleries in the immediate 
vicinity of the Abbey ; and that in one of 
these, ** the Grand Pavilion," there were 
seats for no less than four thousand persons. 
Enormous sums were expended in this way ; 
yet it ia a singular fact, which the writer of 
these notices attests, that on Constitution 
Hill, where the whole procession was seen to 
the best advantage, there was no crowd what- 
ever, and the most timid persons might have 
wifbessed it with perfect &cility and safefy. 

As we have already intimated, the amuse- 
ments for all classes of the public on the day 
of the Coronation were unsparingly provided. 
Kveiy subject took some part in the celebra- 
tion of the event, from the privileged peer 
in velvet, ermine, and gold, to the joyful poor 
in their ^holiday clothes. The ubiquity of 
the entertaininents prevents our giving any 
thing like a complete summary of them, so 
that our record must be confined to the most 
striking scenes. 

First among these was the Fair in Hyde 
Fkrk, the booths for which, with the intet- 
yeaing promenades, occupied a parallelogram 
of ground, about fourteen thousand feet long, 
and one thousand feet broad, nearly in the 
centre of the Park. The whole was admi- 
rably regulated by the Police, who so far 
piovidfid for casualties, as to erect a station 
for the reception of lost children. The fair 
lasted from Thuryday morning till Monday 
night, Sunday excepted : it was not a low, 
riotous festival, as fairs usually are, but its 
amusements and visiters were principally of 
the respectable class. 

Eady in Thursday afternoon, Mrs. Graham 
accompanied by Captain Curry, ascended in 
a balloon from the upper part of the Green 
Park: after remaining in the air over the 
metropolis for an hour and a half, the aero- 
nauts made an ill-managed descent in Maiy- 
le-bone Lane. 

Two separate displays of Fireworks were 
provided in the Green and Hyde Parks, 
within suitable . inclosures. They lasted 
from eleyen till one o'clock, and were altoge- 
ther sujpMsrior in magnificent design to any 
pyrotechnic exhibition of late years. The 
design of the piece concluding the Hyde 
Park display, wiu the entrance arch to 
Buckingham Palfice, upon a stupendous 
scale ; the central gateway being filled with a 
transparent portrait of Her Majesty on horse- 
back. The architectural portion resembled 
jets of gas, and the whole being finally en- 
veloped in a flood of white light brighter 

than day, had a truly electric intensity. This 
novel effect, we iudge, was produced by 
the oxyhydrogen light, now occasionally in- 
troduced at our theatres. 

According to custom, the theatres of the 
metropolis were opened gratuitously to the 
public, for sums stipulated for by the govern- 
ment Of these and other places of amuse- 
ment thus opened, the following is stated to 
be a correct list : — 

Drury Lane, Covent Garden, Haymarket, 
St. James's, English Opera-house, Olympic, 
Adelphi, Strand, Astley's, Victoria, Surrey, 
Sadler's Wells, City of London, Pavilion, 
Kensington, Garriek, Standard, Ghvcian Si^ 
loon, White Conduit House, AmUo Saloon, 
Royal Victoria Gardens, and Bagnigge 
Welhi. Vauxhall and the Surrey Zoological 
Gardens were closed, their proprietors having 
refused the tendered sum of three hundred 
pounds each. This anangement, extended 
beyond all precedent, prevented excessive 
crowding in the streets; since it provided 
for every district amusement at honte. 

Towards evening, every Street in the me* 
tropolis and its suburbs blazed with illumi- 
nations, in oil, gas, &e. The most brilliant 
of these displays were- at the Gh>vemment, 
and other public offices, the designs of 
which exhibited appropriate skill. Thus, at 
the Admiralty, we had a stupendous anchor; 
and guns, and pyramids of shot at the Ord- 
nance office. Among the most gratifying 
features were the illuminations of the several 
Foreign Ambassadors, displaying the insig- 
nia of their own sovereigns in union with 
those of our beloved Queen, in exquisite 
taste. One of these displays, (at Mivart's 
Hotel,) is stated to have cost five hundred 
pounds. Much has of late years been urged 
in disparagement of illuminations by persons 
who must surely have been enlightened by 
the universal joy of Thursday night Every 
mode and device were then put in requisition, 
from the flambeau upon the aristocratic iron 
palisade, to the last introduction — of gas 
within cut-glass lamps. 

In some instances, flowers, fit emblems of 
happiness on earth, were blended with fla^ 
and draperies in the fronts of the houses m 
the line ; . whilst their festal efPect was mate- 
rially aided by branches of ** the laurel 
meede of tnightie conquerors." 

The Devonshire Pavilion, in Piccadilly 
with its crimson draperies and emblazoned 
arms, and its quaint device, ** God bless the 
Queen,'' reminded one of the days of jousts 
and tournaments whereat others of the noble 
line of Cavendish were wont to shine, and 
whose details crowd many a page of our 
ancient chronicles. The house No. 27, (Mr. 
Banting, upholsterer,) in St. James's- street, 
(by the way a beautiful specimen of the 
Italianized street architecture of the reign of 
James I.) was decorated in unique style, thus 



described : — " A ktar of the Order of the 
Garter^ supported by the swords of justice and 
of mercy crossed, the whole being encircled 
by horns of plenty, filled with the kindly 
fruits of the earth, and adorned by splendid 
draperies, escutcheons, laurels, and other 

The Bank of England was lit in novel 
style, by double festoons of gas in coloured 
lamps hanging from the isolated lamp-posts, 
which were surmounted with brilliant gas 
stars. At Charing Gross, the beautiful cen* 
tral columns of the National Gallery were lit 
by lamps placed parallel with the;ir flutings, 
which had a superb effect. 

There were4ikewise more substantii^ cele- 
brations of the day. In most of the London 
prisons, the inmates were gladdened with a 
gfood dinner; in many of the Unions, the 
poor were regaled, and ** made com&rtable." 
The children of the eleemosynary schools 
were feasted, in some instances at the ex- 
pense of a warm-hearted patron i and thus 
the seeds of loyalty were sown in many a 
young, leaping heart, and the precept of 
*' Fear God, Honour the King," enforced 
with adminble effect. The luns of Court 
did nut generally respond to the joyful feeling, 
else theijr noble haUs would have resound^ 
with lojalty. The Temple Halls, and Lin- 
coin's Inn, were, however, so graced; and 
the Society of Gray*9 Inn lent their fine 
Elizabethan hall, as a dining-room for the 
eight hundred chUdren of the adjoining 
parish schools; a scene of interest beyond 
that of its bay-window, emblaxoned as it is 
with the wisdom of pa:^t ages. 

The Tower of London was a scene of joy 
iu the good old style, so as to banish for the 
time fecuUeetion of the sad scenes in its sad 
history; for mirth hovered about its whitened 
walls and towers* 

Our catalogue of festivities in the metro^ 
polis, though far from complete, must end 
here. In every town of the empire, the event 
was celebrated with proportionate circum* 
stance, but with equal heartiness. New 
honours have been showered — not upon mere 
courtiers and men of place — but upon merit, 
not forgetting science, literature, and ait. 

Mayhap, whilst the festivities of the even- 
ing wera at their full tide, the Queen looked 
from her palacO'Window upon a portion of 
the brilliant scene of joy beneath, and partook 
of its intensity. The day is past, and our 
memorial of its events exists but upon 
peribhal)le pajper ; though its recollection will 
live for ages in the hearts of a happy people* 
Such was the Coronation Day of Queen Yicr 
toria! Trust we 

** "She AitM be, to the happiness of England. 
Ad ftged Princess ; mauy d«yB riuUl Me her. 
And ye% no day without a deed to crown it." 


In the Green and Hyde Parks, th&dis^ 
play of Fireworks was as follows : — 

1. Battery of Maroons. 

2. Coloured fire and four Balloon Mor- 

3. Flight of Rockets, J lb., 400. 

4. Two fixed pieces with emblematical 

5. Eight Tourbillons. 

6. Eight Balloon Mortars. 

7. Coloured rockets, i lb., 23.— Yellow. 

8. Two fixed pieces. 

9. Six Pots des Aigrettes. 

10. Eight Tourbillons. 

11. Coloured Rockets, Jib., 23.— Purple: 

12. Two fixed pieces. 

13. Eight Balloon Mortars. 

14. Flight of Rockets, i lb., 200 

15. Six Pots des Aigrettes. 

16. Two fixed pieces. 

17. Eight Tourbillons. 

18. Coloured Rockets, Jib., 35.— Green. 

19. Two fixed pieces. 

20. Eight Balloon Mortars. 

21. Flight of Rockets, |lb., 400. 

22. Six Pots des Aigrettes. 

23. Two fixed pieces. 

24. Coloured Rockets, | lb., 33*— Red, 
and four Tourbillons. 

25* Eight Balloon Mortars* 

26. Two fixed pieces. 

27. Coloured Rockets, J lb., 19.— Cbangei. 
able, and six Pots des Aigrettes. 

28. Eight Tourbillons and four Balloon 

29. Three fixed pif^ces. 

30. Flight of Rockets with coloured stars, 

I lb., 4H.— Purple. 

31. Ditto., 48.— Green. 

32. Ditto., 48.— Red. 

33. Three fixed pieces. 

34. Bengal lights, and twelve fans of Ro^ 
man candles. 

35. Maroon battery. 

36. Fixed piece, with finish, consisting of 
14 tourbillons, 12 Pots des Aigrettes, 400 
quarter of a pound, and 450 half-pound 
rockets, 14 balloon mortars, and two nesta 
of serpents. 

"tUiptette, — At the Coronation, each Am- 
bassador had his lady tQ^is right hand. 

Cost^^^The parliamei^ary estimate of thg 
Coronation is 70,000/. ^ 

The Coronation Organ was built by 
Messrs. Hill and- Co., the builders of thd 
splendid Birmingham and York organs. 

Tapestry,— Thi^ k>wer part of the altar- 
end of the Abbtiy was hung with gorgeous 
tapestry of green and gold. 

The Imitative Masonry, including the 
western entrance, screens of the nave of the 
Abbey, &c., were executed by Mr. Tomkins, 
the clever scene-painter. 



The Jenuakm Chamber was hung with 
tapestry, having at one end the portrait of 
Richard II., seated iu St. Edward's chair, 
differently ornamented from the present day. 
This room was set apart foir the Regalia, 
which were laid on a table at the further 
end. In the ante*room to this chamber was 
a chest, containing the robes of the prebend*, 
which are only used at coronations ; and al- 
though in excellent preservation, they are the 
same which were first used at the Coronation 
of James II. : the chest is secured by three 

St. ESdumrtts Chair has, at each Corona- 
tion, from the time of Charles II., been co- 
vered with cloth of gold, from which practice 
it is disfigured with nails, tacks, and brass 
pins, which have been driven in to fasten the 
precious covering. The chair itself is nearly 
as much worn as if used daily ; its ancient 
ornaments were much more perfect within 
memory than they are at present; and so 
wantonly has the chair been disfigured, that 
even the iuitiab of many perhons names' have 
been cut into its most ornamental parts. 

The Fair. — ^The last occasion of a Fair in 
Hyde Park, was the Peace of 1814, or 24 
years since, when the piejiarations were more 
splendid, but the joy less earnest, than on 
Curunation Day. 

Signal. — At the top of Westminster Abbey 
is a small door, where a man was stationed, 
to communicate the actual moment when the 
crown was placed on the head of the Sove- 
reign, by signal to the Semaphore at the 
Admiralty, by which it was transmitted to 
the outposts and other places. At this most 
interesting moment, a double ro}al salute of 
forty-one guns was fired, and the Tower, 
Windsor, Woolwich, and other guns, gave a 
similar greeting to the crowned Monarch of 
these realms. 

Coronation Literatttre. — The sum of 
5,000/. was voted by Grovemment towards 
an illustrated History of the Coronation of 
George IV., the execution of which was en- 
trusted to the late Sir George Nayler. This 
work, containing forty-five splendidly coloured 
plates, was pubUshed, in atlas folio, for fifty 
guineas, at a considerable loss to Sir George 
Nayler, notwithstanding the liberal Govern- 
ment grant towards the expenses. But a 
more superb memorial of this Coronation was 
undertaken for George IV., and, could it have 
been finished in time, would have been 
charged 2,000 guineas. It represents the 
Procession, Ceremonial, and Banquet, in a 
series of seventy*three exquisitely coloured 
drawings, finished like enamels, on velvet 
and white satin. The portraits are accurate, 
and many of the coronets are richly dight 
with rubies, emeralds, .pearls, and brilliants, 
curiously set in gold by Hamlet; each of 
which plates cost fifty guineas at first hand. 

The Baird of Sheffield has s^ng a Corona- 

tion Ode ; but wh«i« is the Linrwits with his 


Thx Sceptre in a maiden-haod. 
The reij(n of Beaaty and of Youth* 
Awake to xladiwst aU the IhimI, 
And Love is Loyalty and Truth. 
Rule, ViCTOBiA. rule tlie Free; 
Hearts and hands we offer Thee. 
Not by the tyrmnt-hiw of might. 
But by the Grace of God, we cmtt. 
And by the People's Voic^ thy right 
To sit u|ion tliy Fa tiler's thiODe.— ^ 

Bule. VioToaiA. ride tlie Free ; 
Heaven defend and prosper Tbifl 
Thee, isles and continents obey. 
Kindreds and nations, yigli and tu. 
Between the bound-marks of thy sway 
The mornibtf and the Evening Stac— 
Rule, VioToniA, rule the Free, 
Millions rest their hopes on Tiiee. 
No slave within tliine empire breathe. 
Before tliy steus oppression fly ; 
Tlie Lamb ana Liou plav lieneath 
The meek domiuion of ttiine eye. — 
Buie, VicToniA, rule the Free, 
Chains and fetters yield to Thee 
With Mercy's beams yet more tjenigo. 
Light to thy realms in dairkuest temt, 
TiU none shall name a God but thine^ 
None at an IdoLaltar bend. — 
Rule. VicTOKiA. rule the Free, 
TiU they all shaU pray for Thee. 
At hom«*. abroad, by sea, on shore. 
Blessings on Thee and tbiutf increase 
The swurd arid cannon rage no more. 
The whole world liaii Tliee Queen of Peace !— 
Rule. ViCTOBiA. rule the Free, 
And tlie Almighty rule o'er Tliee ! 
BlackwootTt Magaarime. Jamks MoifTOimsBT. 

Coronation Medals. — The Government 
Medals, struck at the Mint, are in gold and 
silver. The silver medal is the size of a 
crown-piece, but very solidly cut On one 
side is a good portrait of the Queen, in very 
bold relief, and a tolerable likeness, with a 
scroll and legend of the Queen's titles. On 
the other side are three females, presenting 
the Queen with a crown, (England, Scotland, 
Mid Ireland, no doubt, intended,) with the 
legend above, " Ebimus tibi nobilb rbch 
NUK ;** and beneath is the date, *' June 28, 
1838.'* — A large and effective medal has 
been struck by Messrs. Griffin and Hyamsy 
in a white* silvery alloy. On the obverse 
is a portrait of the Queen, crowned and 
bearing the sceptre of the cross, in full robes, 
the likeness being very commendable. On 
the reverse are whole-length figures of the 
Queen, crown^, and bei^ng the orb and 
sceptre, beneath a canopy, supported by corp- 
neted peers. As a popular, commemoration, 
this medal has considerable merit. 

Coronation Ox, — At a dining establish- 
ment, in Bishopsgate, an ox was roasted 
whole on Thursday and Friday, before a 
«oke fire, twenty feet in height and ten in 
breadth: the roasting occupied thirty-two 
hours, during which time three thoiwand five 
hundred persons paid 6<^..each to witness 



' thU (in oiir time) extraordinary scene. Two 
deer were also similarly cooked. 

Handkerchiefs, — Amonj^ the minor cele- 
brations may be mentioned silk pocket hand- 
kerchiefs, with printed representations of the 
Coronation, loyal emblems, &c., exhibiting in 
spirit of design and clearness of execution, 
the perfection at which block-printing has 
arrived in this country. Royal standard hand- 
kerchiefs were also waved from many a win- 
dow and housetop on Thursday .— We read, 
likewise, of a handkerchief exquisitely worked 
at Ayr, as a present to our youthful Queen. 
It is sewed upon the finest lawn, and taste- 
fully embroidered round the sides, havicg at 
one corner a small crown, beautifully worked, 
with " Victoria*' in old English characters 
beneath, and "Ayr, 1838," delicately printed 
on one side. 

The Procession. — In a Sunday newspaper 
it is observed, that *^ the cheering during the 
progress of the pageant was by no means up- 
roarious ; the most remarkable characteristic 
of the whole affair, indeed, was the absence 
of all enthusiasm.*' This is a strange error, 
the writer evidently supposing there can be 
no enthusiasm without uproar. We have 
seen nearly all the public spectacles in Lon- 
don during the last thirty years, without wit- 
nessing such genuine, heart-felt enthusiasm, 
as was visible and audible on Thursday last. 
Yet, in many instances, we doubt not, so in- 
tense was the affection of the spectators to- 
wards the young and beautiful (Sovereign, as 
not to be found in the noisy expression which 
is commonly mistaken for joy. 

The Crowd, — Among the most gratifying 
circumstances of the Coronation must not 
be forgotten the peaceable and orderly con- 
duct of the assembled half-million of people 
throughout the day and night ; alike the 
cause and consequence of the g()od temper 
and forbearance of the police and the soldiers 
on duty throughout the line. Scarcely an 
accident occurred during the twenty-four 
hours ; and at the police-offices, on the fol- 
lowing day, there were very few charges of 
outrage, yet the Parks were crowded for 
nearly two hours in comparative darkness. 
At the Fair there were few brawls. During 
the day and night we mingled in various sec- 
tions of the crowd, and were never more proud 
of the good-humour and, let us add, the in- 
telligence, of the English people. The avi- 

' dity with which thousands provided them- 

' selves with programmes of the procession, 
denoted a laudable curiosity respecting the 
merits of the pageant : it was pleasing to 
hear the identifying of the Ambassadors' 

- carriages, and especially the friendly recep- 
tion of an old enemy ; tor, it should be lecol- 

* lected, that very few in the crowd knew of 
the party attack upon the hero, and its mise- 

' rable -failure. The respectful recognition of 

the Royal Family was alike in good taste and 
feeling. Nor was this scene marred by any 
objection to its cost ; for the regal appoint- 
ments were, by no means, the most superb: 
indeed, some of the state liveries were almost 
gold-bare; and a few royal carriages suf- 
fered in comparison with the ambassadorial 
outfits. — ^There was less intemperance than 
usual, and more provision for rational enjoy- 
ment : tea and conee were sold at gin-palaces, 
and temperance societies and tea-totalism 
were not forgotten. The comparatively few 
drunken pertK>ns, (considering the excitement 
and the ready means of gratification,) be- 
longed to Burke's *^ swinish multitude," and 
would, probably, have got drunk without any 
such inducement In short, the whole day 
presented scenes of popular enjoyment, in 
which the leaven of »ociety formed an insig- 
nificant portion. It must, therefore, h% con- 
sidered as a creditable picture of the improved 
state of our national feeUngs, habits, and 

Individual accounts of such events as the 
preceding, by competent ot)servers« most 
prove interesting; since each, probably, 
notes many points which another would 
overlook. One of the best sketches that has 
hitherto appeared is the following, almost 
verbatim from the Globe of Friday evening. 

" I have just returned from the Abbey, 
and have witnessed the coronation. Never 
could I have conceived a sight so magnificent 
and interesting I I was in my place by half- 
past seven. The corporation of London, 
the judges, and many general of&cers, were 
in their seats on the noor. All the galleries 
the eye could explore, were filled, and had 
been so from five o'clock in the morning. 
The peers and peeresses began to assemble 
at eight, and continued till near eleven. As 
their rich, crimson velvet robes drew along 
the carpet, they shone with great lustre, 
and were picked up by the heralds as they 
mounted the theatre. This elevation is a 
platform in the centre, ascended by steps, 
over* which the company crossed to their 
places, carrying their coronets in their hands. 
The galleries in the ante-chapel were cut off 
from view of the ceremonies, but indulged 
in giving applause to distinguished statesmen 
as they passed, by clapping of hands. 

'* Lord Grey was received with a burst of 
applause, as were also the Marquis of An- 
glesey and Lord Mulgrave. The foreign 
ambassadors excited great attention, accom- 
panied by their suites in splendid and faoci- 
' tul dresses. The first was the Grand Turk ; 
next, the Aui<>trian. On the appearance of 
Marshal Soult, he was warmly greeted. — 
The Russian was in a dress of white fur, as 
if he had come from the north pole. One 
from the states cf Germany, on viewing the 
orchestra, was astounded : he lifted up his 



hands in mute amazement, and was obliged 
to be forced on. The American minister 
and his wife came withoat any attendants. 
Th« band had a sumptuous appearance; 
every instrumental performer being in fuU 
dress scarlet and gold, the choir in surplices, 
and the young ladies in stiff muslin robes. 
The members of the House of Commons 
did not arrive till nearly eleven ; and from 
the different colour of their dresses, with 
the sprinkling of the military red, gave it a 
pleasing appearance. There were four or 
five hundred present, with the Speaker in 
the front. The Queen's arrival at the abbey 
door was announced by the tiring of cannon. 
The marshal and heralds, in their rich and 
curious dresses, flew to the entrance to form 
the procession in the ante-chapel. As she 
moved up the aisle and ascended the theatre, 
the music began with a thrilling sound, < I 
'was glad.* The excitement had been in- 
creasing from eight to eleven, and the ac- 
cumulated sensation was more than I could 
bear. Interesting and beautiful, she walked 
alone, followed by eight maids of honour, 
dressed in white satin and brilliants, with 
circles of roses mingled with green leaves 
upon their heads. At that moment the sun 
showered down his beams upon her : it was 
a dramatic scene of pomp and grandeur, too 
much for the senses to bear. When seated 
on the platform, I was horrified by a parcel 
of schoolboys screaming out, at the extent 
of their cracked voices, * Victoria Regina I 
Victoria Regina !' a privilege of the West- 
minster scholars, highly disgusting, which, 
for a moment, marred the proceedings. SirO. 
Smart flourished his flag, and a band of 
trumpets and drums close to the roof at the 
eastern end, played * God save the Queen.' 
This was showy, but, as a musical perform- 
ance, much below the magnificence that 
was passing. The archbishop then, ad- 
dressmg the spectators that covered the 
walls above the topmost arches, declared 
Victoria to be the lawful Queen ; which 
was responded to by shouts, waving of hand- 
kerchiefs, and clapping of hands. In the 
Litany I noticed the surprise of th^ foreigps- 
ers on hearing the words ' Good Lord, de- 
liver us,' unmusically murmured by the vi- 
cars choral in the orchestra. During the 
responses to the commandments, I sted- 
fastly looked at the Queen, and saw by the 
tremulous glitter of the diamonds that she 
was much agitated. When the music began, 
she was more at ease, and hung her head a 
little on one side. Her music-master, who 
was near to me, said she was passionately 
fond of music, and had a fine voice, extend- 
ing from B in alt to G below the line. On 
commenchig Handel's anthem, < Zadock the 
Priest,' the Queen, with the ladies that 
surrounded her, retired behind the curtains 
which led into Henry Vll.'s chapel, where 
nhe wai attired in her coronation robes, re- 

turning under a canopy of gdd. It then 
wanted three minutes to two o'clock. A 
telegraphic communication was made from 
the floor through the roof, and a rocket an* 
nounced the crown was placed on her head. 
The cannon instantly tnundered from the 
Park and the Tower, forming a noble basso 
at intervals to the orchestra, which waa 
pouring forth ' The Queen shall rejoice in 
her strength.' A delirium of delight and 
awful grandeur returned; and we beheld 
the pure and illustrious monarch with the 
crown upon her head, at the same moment 
the peers and peeresses put on the coronets 
they held in their hands. Sunounded aa 
she was by the high officers of state, the 
Duke of Wellington, (who was warmly 
greeted,) the Dukes of Norfolk and Devon- 
shire, she was conducted to her chair by 
Lord Melbourne taking her by one hand, 
and holding in the other the sword of state. 
The archbi^ihop, in his black cap, among 
the glitter of the dresses, looked like old 
Wickliff among the courtiers. A silly and 
irreverent scene took place> when silver me- 
dals were thrown up to the galleries and 
among the crowd of nobles. In scrambling 
on the floor, a dozen were thrown down at 
once, the feathers torn off tiieir hats. I 
saw one carried out severely hurt by half a 
dozen persons falling upon him. The cere- 
mony ended by four hundred nobles doing 
homage — taking off their coronets, passing 
before her, and kissing her hand. 

** When the procession returned, the 
Queen passed near to me, with the crowo 
of silver and diamonds on her head, the 
globe in one hand, and the sceptre in the 
other ; she appeared nearly overcome with 
heat and fatigue. The procession I lost; 
but on my return, I saw nothing but joy 
and pleasure in the thousands who filled 
the streets, windows, balconies, and tops of 


(^F^rom the Comrt Journal,') 

The constant repetition of choral music, per- 
formed en masse by the many amateur socie- 
ties in the metropolis, has rendered it neces- 
sary on all great occasions to make the musi- 
cal arrangement on a much larger scale than 
in former times. The orchestral performers 
at the Coronation on Thursday were therefore 
doubly as numerous as at the Coronation of 
William the Fourth, and the choralists weie 
fully quadrupled, the former including the 
Siite of the profession — Mori, Cramer, Loder, 
Blagrove, T. Cooke, Thomas, Patey, Moralt, 
Watts, Ella, Keams, Lindley, Hatton, Bon- 
ner, Bannister, Dragonetti, Howell, Anfossi, 
Willman, Williams, Cooke, Baumann, Den- 
man, &c., &c; the latter embracing the 
choirs of Her Majesty's Chapel Royai, West- 
minster Abbey, St. Paul's, and a vast number 



of amateon ; and in the temi-cherat, the 
well-known names —Mesdames Bishop, Kny- 
vett, Shirreff; Romer, Birch, Rainforth, Shaw, 
M. B. flawes, Masson, Dolby, Gawse, the 
Masters Goward, Messrs. Braham, Wil- 
son, Bennett, Terrail, Homcastle, Vanghan, 
Hobbs, Francis, Hawkins, Phillips, Sale, 
Bellamy, Atkins, Novello, Horsley, Tnrle, 
and Moscheles. There was no conductor; 
but Sir George Smart took his place at the 

Harper and the other State trumpeters 
were statidned in a small gallery almost 
touching the roof at the enst end of the 
choir, whfre, during the Recognition, and at 
other points in the ceremonial, they performed 
sundry, of what in military lauguage are 
termed ** flourishes," but in musical, would 
be considered a strange medley of odd com- 
binations. The magnificent organ is on the 
compass and scale now adopted in Germany. 
Its iiolemn and imposing effects appeared to 
lie in the pedals, on which Sir George is not 
a deiteious pertbrmer, and consequently the 
instrument was shorn of its splendour. 

The first anthem was the composition of 
ihe late Mr. Attwood. written for the corona- 
tion of George the Fourth, and was com- 
menced on the entrance of the Queen into 
the choir. The opening symphony, a beau- 
tiful arrangement of the national air, '^ God 
save the Queen,** was a happy idea, and is 
the only musician-like dress in which this 
ancient melody has yet been clothed. The 
immense quantity of timber piled up in every 
direction, and the gorgeous trappings of ihe 
galleries, are unfavourable to the e^cpansion 
of musical sounds ; but the lovely melody of 
'the words, ** O pray for the peace of Jerusa- 
lem ; they shall prosper that love thee !'* 
floated across the choir in a rich volume of 
tone, which showed that the subdued exer- 
tions of the orchestral performers were more 
in harmony with the character of the buildiiig 
than the more noisy. Af^er the Litany; 
•Which Was resul- on this occasion, foltowed a 
sanetus, a new composition, which should 
.|M>t have been permitted to take the place of 
.the few sublime chords set to the same words 
.by Gibbons^ 4he celebrated chapel organist in 
.the feign of Charles the First, who lost his 
life from contracting the small- pox whilst at- 
; tending the nuptials of monarch and 
Henrietta of France, solemnized at Canter- 
bury in 162& 

Previous to the AnoiBtiog> Hnnders be^ 
.known Coronation Anthem, << Zadock the 
Priest anointed Solomon King,*' was given 
.with nnusna^ spirit ; and a/ter the putting 
on of ihe Grown, the anthem, *' The Queen 
, shall rejoice." This, one of Handel's 
^greatest works, was the oAe/'-d'ffiUwe of the 
orchestra ; and the delightful voipings of 
.the seini-chorus in the movement, "'Exceed- 
ing glad shall she he of thy. strength," com- 

ing from thirty-two of the choicest ^gers 
in the raetrc^oKs will be remembered with 
feelings of mtense pleasure. Daring the 
Homage was performed the anthem written 
for this ceremonial by Mr. Knyvett, taken 
from the 118th P.<<a]m. It is an excellent 
composition, somewhat in the style of the 
modern mass, and had been happily instru- 
mented for the orchestra. The Quartet, 
" Lord Gr<mt the Qneen a long life," de- 
monstrated that Mr. Knyvett has read the 
vocal works of Mozart and Beethoven, 
and with great profit. The last choruH, 
<< Blessed be the Lord thy God,, who de- 
lighted in thee to set thee on the Throne," 
is spirited and somewhat in the evergreen 
fanhion of Seb. Bach. Mr. Knyvett has 
entered the lists with his late friend and 
coadjutor Mr. Attwood, and has no reason 
to fear a comparison with the composer of 
the justly approved anthems, " I was glad," 
and "O Lord Grant the King." The 
** Hallelujah Chorus," was given in a way 
peculiar to England, and to the astonishment 
of the many foreigners present It has been 
well said, to know the « Hallelujah Chorus" 
yon mast hear it sung by the English ; and 
certainly its performance on Thursday car- 
ried with it all the crisp, brilliant, and spirit- 
stirring grandeur with which our professors 
are accustomed to give it. 

^sumtti atiti Cu£;tont£(. 


Fireworks, for pastime, are little spoken 
of previous to the reign of Elizabeth. We 
are told, when Anne Boleyn was conveyed 
by water from Greenwich to Londoor pre- 
vious to her coronation, in 1533, ** there 
went before the lord mayor's barge a foyste 
(or galley), for a wafter full of ordinance ; 
in which foyste was a great, red dragon, con- 
stantly movihg and casting forth wild fire ; 
and round about the said foyste stood terri- 
ble, monstrous, and wilde men, casting of 
fire and making a hideous noise.*' This 
vessel, with the fireworks, is supposed to 
have been usually exhibited when the lord 
mayor went upon the water, and especially 
on lord mayor s day. 

Among the spectacles prepared for the 
diversion of Queen Elizabeth at Kenilworth 
Castle, in j57<5, there were displays of fire- 
works : as, '* a blaze of burning darts flying 
to and fro ; beams of stars coruscant; streams 
and hail of fire sparks ; . lightnings of wild 
,fir« on the water and on the land; flight 
and shot of thunderbolts ;*'-^likewise, ** fire- 
works passing under the water a long space ; 
and when all men thought that Uiey had 
.been quenched, they would, rise and mount 
out of the water again, and burne furiously 
until they were utterlie consumed.'* Again, 
sixteen years afterwards, tl^e same queen 
was entertained by the Ea^l of Hereford, at 



IHvetliaiti/ in Hampshire ; and after supper 
tiiejre was a grand display of fireworks: — 
''There was a castle of fireworks of all 
aorts, which played in the fort ; answerable 
Id that there Was^ at the Snail Mount, a 
globe of all manner of fireworkes, as big as 
a barrel. When these were" spent, there 
were many running rockets upon lines. On 
either side were many firewheele;<, pikes of 
pleasure, and balles of wild fire, which 
burned in the water." — {Nicholses Pro- 
'gresses of Eiizabeth, vol iL page 19.) 

A writer, who lived in the reign of James 
I.> assures us there were then ** abiding in 
the city of London men very skilful in the 
art of pyrotechnie, or of fireworkes." But 
8o far as one can judge from the machinery 
delineated in the books formerly written 
upon the subject of firework-making, these 
exhibitions were very clumsily contrived; 
consisting chiefiy in wheels, fire- trees, jerbs, 
and rockets ; to which were added, men 
fantastically habited, who flourished away 
with poles or clubs, charged with squibs or 
crackers, and fought with each other, or 
jointly attacked a wooden castle replete with 
the same materials, or combated with paste- 
board dragons running upon lines, and <* vo- 
uitting of fire like vene furies.'* These 
men, fantastically habited, were called 
*< Green Men." Thus, in the Seven Cham- 
pions of Christendom^ a piny, written by 
John Kirke, and printed in 1638, it is said: 
" Have you any squibs, any green men, in 
your showa^ and whizzes on lines, Jack- 
pudding upon the rope, or resin fireworks ?" 
These '* green men*^ attended the pageants 
to clear the way : they were disguised with 
droll masks, having large staves or clubs, 
headed with cases of crackers. Do we not 
recognise the strange fellows in " the Green 
Man*' tavern-signs of our day — as " the 
Green Man and Still/' in Oxford-street ? 

It sliquld seem, therefore, that fireworks 
have been known in England for three cen- 
turies. Mr. Strutt, writing in the year 1 800, 
was decidedly of opinion that the fireworks 
(displayed in the previous fifty years had 
been more excellent in their construction, 
taore neatly executed, and more variable 
and pleasing in their effects, than those pro- 
duced at any former period. It is certain 
that the early firework- makers were totally 
tmacqaainted i/vith the nature and proper- 
ties of the quick-match, which is made with 
spun cotton, soaked in a strong solution of 
salt-petre, and rolled, while wet, in pounded 
^gunpowder ; and which, being inclosed in 
BmaU tubes of piiper, communicates the fire 
from one part of the apparatus to another 
with astonishing celerity. The t)ld fire- 
.work-makers were compelled to have re- 
course to trains of corned gunpowder, con- 
veyed by grooves made in Uie wood-work of 
the machinery, when they were desirous of 
communicating the ^s^ to a number of oases 

at once, and especially if they were at a dis- 
tance from each other ; which was not on^ 
a very circuitous process, but liable to acci- 
dents ; — and to tnis cause is attributed th# 
failure of the tremendous firework exhibited 
in the Green Park, in the reign of George 
II., when the performance was interrupted, 
and the grandeur of the general effect to- 
tally destroyed, by the timbers belonging to 
one of the wings taking fire, through the 
explosion of the gunpowder trains commu- 
nicated by the wooden channels. This un- 
fortunate accident, in all probability, would 
not have happened, had the communications 
from one part of the machinery to the other 
been made with quick-match. Mr. Strutt 
received the above information* from a very 
skilful firework-maker belonging to the 
train of artillery, who had an opportunity of 
seeing the manner in which the trains were 
laid, and was present at the exhibition. 

It was customary, in Mr. Strutt's me- 
mory, for the train of artillery annually to 
display a grand firework upon Tower-hill^ 
on the evening of his majesty's birthday. 
This spectacle, in 1800, had been disconti- 
nued for several years, in compliance with a 
petition for that purpose by the inhabitants, 
on account of the inconveniences they sus- 
tained thereby. 

Fireworks were exhibited at Mary^le*bone 
Gardens, while they were kept open fof 

fublic entertainment; and about the year 
775, Torre, a celebrated French artist, wa«» 
employed there, who, in addition to fire- 
wheels, fixed stars, figure pieces, and other 
curious devices, introduced pantoaiimical 
spectacles, with machinery, appropriate 
scenery, and stage decoration, whereby ha 
gave astonishing effect to his performances. 
Mr. Strutt mentions two— the Forge of 
Vulcan, and the Descent of Orpheus to 
Hell in search of his wife Eurydice. The 
last was particularly splendid: there were 
several scenes, and one of them supposed 
to be the Elysian fields, where the flitting 
backwards and forwards of the spirits was 
admirably represented, by means of tran^ 
parent gauze interposed between the actors 
and the spectators. 

• ^ Fireworks were, on their first introduc- 
tion at Vauxhall Gardens, and for some time 
afterwards, only occo^/oha/Zy displayed there ; 
as also at Ranelagh, and, in an inferior 
style, at Bermondsey Spa. Yet, at the lat- 
ter place, a few times in the course of the 
year, was exhibited a very excellent repre- 
sentation of the Siege of Gibraltar, consist- 
ing of fireworks and transparencies; the 
whole of which were constructed and ar- 
ranged by Mr. Keyse, a self-taught artist, 
and proprietor of the Spa. The height of 
the rock (Gibraltar) was about fifty feet, 
the length two hundred ; the whole of the 
apparatus covering about four acres of 



ground.* Probably, in this successful exhi- 
bition originated the representation of the 
Battle of Waterloo at Yauxhall Gardens, in 
the year 1827) wherein rockets played a part. 

This brings us to the introduction of fire- 
works in war by the late Sir William Con- 
greve, who bears the reputation of having 
invented the Iron or Congreve Rockets, first 
used at the bombardment of Copenhagen. 
A rocket establishment forms a oranch of 
ihe military service of Great Britiuii at the 
present period. 

We question whether Pyrotechny, or the 
art of making fireworks, has made much ad- 
vancement in our time : probably, it is not 
a branch of useful knowledge, an idea which 
occurred to ourselves whilst witnessing the 
display of fireworks on the eve of the Coro- 
nation ; the devices of which were generally 
of antiquated and familiar forms. The 
brilliancy of the coloured fires was more 
novel; an improvement referable to the 
firework artists of the present day being ac- 
quainted with chemistry, of which their 
predecessors could know little or nothing. 
Thus, the former are enabled to throw ma- 
gic floods of light, and showers of balls 
and stars, and fiery rain, of various hues. 
Strootia furnishes tJie base of red fire ; ni- 
trate of baryta and sulphur, of green ; nt> 
trate of copper, of emerald green, <&c. 

The Chinese excel all European artists in 
fireworks ; though in .this country we are 
only familiar with their single cradcers. 


A WRITER, who seems to have devoted no 
little time and attention to this subject, says 
that one of the most magnificent corona- 
tions of the early times appears to have 
been that of Eleanor, the oeautiful young 
queen of Henry III., which was celebrated 
on her marriage, on the 20th of January, 
1236. The honest but quaint old chroni- 
cler, Matthew Paris, speaking of this so- 
lemnity, says: <<To this nuptial entertain- 
ment there came such a multitude of the 
nobility of both sexes, such hosts of re- 
ligious persons, such crowds of people, and 
•uch a variety of jugfflers and buffoons, that 
London could scarcely contain them in her 
spacious bosom." And further on he says : 
<* Why need I recount the train of those 
who performed the sacred ofiices of the 
churcn? why describe the profusion of 
dishes which furnished the table, the abun- 
dance of venison, the variety of fish, the di- 
versity of wine, the gaiety of jugglers, the 
readiness of the attendants ? Whatever the 
world could produce for glory or delight was 
there conspicuous.'' 

Edward I. and Eleanor, his queen, were 
crowned in the new church at Westminster, 
by Archbishop Kilwarbie, on Sunday, Au- 
gust 19, 1274. "At the solemnitie of this 

* L^oon's Environs of London, voL i. p. 568. 

coronation," observes HoUnshed, '^theee 
were let go at Ubertie, (catch them that 
catch might,/ five hundred great horses, bjr 
the King of the Scots, the Earles of Corn*- 
w«m, Glocester, Pembroke, Warren, and 
others, as they were alighted from them." 

Richard II. was crowned on the 16th July; 
I377> nt Westminster, by Simon, Archbishop 
of Canterbury. ** The proceedings on this 
occasion," says the writer first mentioned, 
« including the progress through the city 
of London, were full of pomp and mag^ifi- 
cence. On St. Swithin's -day, after dinner, 
the mayor and citizens assembled near the 
Tower, when the young king, clad in white 
garments, came forth with a great multitude 
in his suite. They proceeded through the 
street called .La Chepe, (Cheapside) and on 
to the palace at Westminster. On the mor- 
row the king, arrayed in the fairest vest^ 
ments, and with buskins only upon his feet> 
came down into the halU He was then con- 
ducted to the church, when the usual cere- 
monial was performed ; and returning again 
.to his palace, was carried on the shouldeni 
of knights, being oppressed with fatiguo 
and long fasting." The banquet, from jth« 
character of the age, was most splendid and 
profuse. • The historian, Walsinghapi, say^ 
fxe forbears giving a description of it, as n 
might exceed tbe belief of the reader. ' He^ 
however, mentions one circumstapce.woriiijr 
of being recorded. In the midst of the pa^ 
lace, a hollow marble pillar was set up> t»Tr 
mounted by a large, gilt eagle ; from und^ 
the feet of which, through the four sidfw.^ 
the capital, flowed wine of different .kinob 
during the day ; nor was any one forbidden 
to partake of it. After dinner, the king re- 
tired with a number of the nobility to his 
chamber, and was entertained until the time 
of supper with dancing and minstrelsy. 

The coronation of Henry IV. is renuni:* 
able for the first historical notice of the crea- 
tion of the Knights oif the Bath, althougib 
there it^ little doubt of the observance of tw 
formality in much earlier times. Fortf'iHx 
gentlemen, including three of the king's 
sons, watched on the vigil of the corona^Mi 
at the Tower of London, and received their 
knighthood there on the day of tbe festival. 
The ceremony of this coronation appears to 
have been peculiarly grand and striking : no 
less than six thousand horses were employed 
in the procession from the Tower to West- 
minster. In addition to the marble pillar 
mentioned in the last coronation, there were 
nine similar pillars erected in Cheapside^ 
which continued flowing on the day of the 
procession, and on the day following. 

Abridged from the Morning Herald* 

LONDON: Printed mdfmbHshedhy J. LiMBlRD, 
143, Strand, Qnear Somerset House; ) and svid ly 
all 'Booksellers and Newsmen.— AMnt im PARlA, 
O, W. M. RBTNOLDS» French, BngUsh, a»d Ame- 
rican Library, 55, Rue Newe St, Auawitm. — /• 

Clie Mirror 


Ko. 903. J 

SATURDAY, JULY 14, 1838. 

fPaics 8t/« 


Ihn patoehial diurch of Thornbuiy, dedi- 
tewed to thii VirgiD Marv> in utuated in the 
tntt)«di«le vicinity of the Castle, engri^ved 
itt tin mrror, td. Mix. p. 873.— Indeed, 
•i It SMartained that a pasaai^e of com- 
tmaiatmi^tk formerly estinfed hetween the 
i*wd i and the caetle. It is generally he- 
lii^wdy that, notwithstanding the antiquity 
lind fiDnner ettent of this ^ace, there Was 
ko ehnrdi at Thornbory before the Conquest ; 
«ft leaat, imch has been inferred from this 
i^^ee of Doniesday imon the subject ; aU 
iBlDfigh this is not Jin ^infallible eriteripn.— 
.The pieseiit stroetiwe is of a much later ori- 
gin than the eleventh century. 
' . 'She chfirch is a large and handsoofte edi- 
m».4(iplayinir, in its principal parts, the 
MSitteetme of the fifteenth century. Sir 
JMert Atkyns, io hb HiBUny of Gh^t&uUr, 
tMttces m tradilioii, according to which, the 
''bisd| of the chandi.ana the tower weie 
MH by Fits BardW who dwelt at Boll's 
Tike; and the emdE aisle was buUt by Sd. 
wasdtmd.Stdfiini.^ who flourished in the 
Migm 6f Richard n, J but the chwracter of 
llm &bric, its des^^ and ornaments, evince 
a much later architectural date. The church 
Vi|t* xxsu. D 

consists of a nave, transept, iad two iisles: 
abore the nave is a clerestory, and a tower 
rises from the western end. The windows 
throughout the body of the church are of HMt 
expansive form, which characterises the^Asrid 
style of ecdeuastical architecture that ob- 
tained under Heniy VI. and Bdwanl IV.— 
The have and aisles are crowned with an em- 
battled parapet, the aules having pinnacles. 
The tower is of ffraceful proportions, and 
highly deeomted : its battkments are (letlb- 
lated, as are also its delicate and nchly. 
worked pinnackis, which have an airy and 
elegant appearance. Throughont this tovrert 
and the great central tower of Glouceeter 
Cathedral, bnilt about the middle of the flf- 
taeth centiiiy, naay be traced a general re- 
semblance. Thombury may be safely pro* 
nouneed one of the /mmeesiis chmdiMe ihat 
were ereeited during the mge of in ir stlna 
vrariare between the houses pf York aaA 
I«ancasler, «t the instigation of the ecclesias- 
tics, and, probably, intended as mdoumeiftat 
atonements for bloodshed, and other crimes^ 
»nong the chief persona engased in thuaa 
destrueflve inniadit on ** fiuc K^andWww.** 
The fitfi^ueut introduction of the Skffkird 



icnot denotes the fandUf under whose -sos- 
pices the principal parts were completed. 

The interior is rich in details, and is ill 
good preserration. The nave is divided from 
the aisles by six pointed arches; and the 
effect of the clerestory is extremely light and 
pleasing. The depressed arch, indicating 
the approach of our national architecture to 
its last and florid stage, prevails in nearly 
all the windows west of the chancel. The 
great ea^tt window is walled up, and on the 
inner-side are inscribed the decalogue, <fec., 
enriched with Grecian ornaments ! 

The communication already mentioned 
was by a gallery, leading from the cloister of 
the castle to the church, and communicating 
with a room, in which the Duke of Buck- 
ingham and his family sometimes sat to hear 
the service. This apartment has long since 
been destroyed ; but, on the outer side of the 
north wall of the chancel, are traces of a large 
archway, now blocked up, which is thought 
to have been connected with the room just 

Among the monuments in the church is 
one to Sir John Stafford, Knt., " gentleman- 
pensioner, during the space of forty-seven 
Sears, to Queene Elizabethe and King 
ames." This member of the Stafford fa- 
roily was also founder of an almshouse, in 

Sir Robert Atkyns states, that ^ there were 
four chantries in this church : one dedicated 
to the Virgin Mary, and erected in the year 
1499 ; another was called Barne*s Chantry ; 
the other two were Bruis Chantry and Slym- 
bridge Chantry, whereof the abbey of St. 
Austin, in Bristol, was patron. The lands 
belonging to these two chantries were granted 
to Sir Arthur Daicie, in the seventh of Ed- 
ward VI.'' 

There are two chapels attached to the 
church ; namely, Oldbury and Falfield. The 
benefice wa* given to the abbot of Tewkes- 
bury, by Qill&rt de Clare; and, after the 
dissolution of religious houses, was obtained 
by Christ Church College, Oxford, with which 
institution the patronage is at present tested.* 

The prefixed print is from a spirited litho- 
graph, a companion to that of Thombury 
Castle, published by Mr. I>avey, 1, 9roaa- 
street, Bristol ; firom which city Thornbuiy 
is dbtant eleven miles northward. 



The following description of the regal Sn- 
mgnia, used at the.coronation of the Empe- 
ror of Austria, as King of Bohemia, is given 
by a recent writer : — The lower circle of 
the crown, which is of fine gold, is in four 

* The subctance of these descriptive details is 
abridged from Stoier*s Pelineatioiis of the conoty of 
Gloucester; the letter-press by J. N. Brewer, Esq. 

divisions, connected by hinges. From these 
divisions rise four broad-ezpandingyffftir-d!0i' 
Us : the first contains three square rubies^ 
in. the three leaves, a large' pear-shaped ruby 
at the bottom, and a pearl at the peak ; un- 
derneath, on the main band or circlet, is a 
large, oval sapphire, with a round ruby on 
each side ; — the second, with the part of 
the batid beneath it, contains seven sap- 
phires and a pearl ; — the third, fifteen ru- 
oies and a pearl ;— >the fourth, seven large, 
and four small, sapphires, two rubies, and a 
pearl. Rising from the hinges between the 
fleur-de-lis, are four acorn-shaped rubies; 
crossing at right angles from the opposite 
fleur-de-Uty and of the same height, are two 
narrow, semicircular bands of {^old: the 
first studded with seven rubies, eight eme- 
ralds, and four pearls ; the second, with six 
rubies, ten emeralds, and four pearls. From 
the point of contact of these bands rises a 
gold Maltese cross, containing within it a 
smaller cross, in enamel, with the Cmci- 
fixion. On the summit of the gold cross is 
a sapphire ; and from each of the irms 
projects an acor;i-shaped ruby : the baek 
displays four pearls and four rubies. The 
following are the number of jewels in ^e 
crown ; namely, forty-seven rubies, tv^entv 
sapphires, eighteen emeralds, aiid sixteen 

5 earls; and it is eight inches high. It 
ates from the time of the Emperor Charles 
IV., for whom it was originally made ; the 
former crown being melted for the purpose. 
The orb, which is of gold, very elaborately 
worked, is four inches in diameter, i^d 
ei^ht high. In the centre is a band, cd'n- 
taming four rubies and four sapphires, be- 
tween each of which are vine-leaves in ena- 
mel ; the grapes being re{)resented by pearls. 
Beneath this band is depicted, in relief, the 
Creation of Man; and above, scenes from 
the history of David. From the top rises 
a superb cross, with a ruby in the centre ; 
four sapphires in the corners, and a rul^ 
beneath the undermost sapphire. There is 
a pearl on the summit, and one at the ex- 
tremity of each arm ;— projecting trans- 
versely from the central ruby, and between 
the four sapphires, are four gold stalks, 
each supporting a pearl, representing mi 
tmblown tulip ; on the back is the motto. 
Dens calum re^nat et reges terra. The 
sceptre, which is two feet in length, U of 
fine gold, elaborately worked in enameled 
vines ; two rings, of twenty-five pearls each, 
encircle the handle above and below ; and 
there is a third ring of twelve pearls nearer 
the top, on which there is h large, square 
ruby :— the upper part is ornamented with 
laurel-leaves and vines, in scrolls, projecting 
from the main part; and contains two ru- 
bies, two emeralds, and two pearls. 





In the coronation of tii« qtieen^oonsoit, do 
oonnent k asked from the people as to the 
person to be crowned ; no oath is adtainis- 
teredy no homage or allegiance m offered ; 
and, though the queen's coi^onation is per- 
formed at the same plaoe> and usually on 
the same day, as that of the sovereign, it is 
a subsequent and distinet solemnity. It 
proceeds from the king, and is gpranted to 
his consort for the honour of the kingly of- 
fice. Among the Romans, the wife of their 
emperor had the title of Augusta, which 
was ahrays conferred with some ceremonies, 
and, latterly, by that of conseeration. In 
Germany, the empress is both crowned and 
anointed. The queens of Prance are not 
crowned with the king, but at the abbey of 
St Denis, near Paris. W. G. C. 


Thvsb mythological and emblematical pa- 
geants were once courtly vehicles of flatteiy : 
for instance, Apollo and the Muses saluted 
her Majesty u^on Ludgate-hill, and the 
Graces took their station in Fleet-market ; 
Saint Anne, her Majesty's nance saint, met 
her in Cheapside ; and the " Cardinal Vir- 
tue»»* (we fear for the last time) were seen 
^llectively at Temple- bar. A fountain, in- 
scribed with the name of Helicon, ran with 
hock sufficient in quantity to inspire all the 
population of Parnassus, and the conduit of 
Cheap overflowed with claret. 


Wb now come to a very interesting locality 
of Calais, named the Courgain, facing the 
harbour basin, and originally a large bastion 
fSt the fortificatious. It was not walled in 
Until the year 1622, though it had been en- 
closed with palisades prior to that date. This 
site was, in 1622, given to the fiphermen of 
the port, who built thereon seven very nar- 
vbw parallel streets, enclosed by an eighth 
street, the whole filling the triangle formed 
by the bastion. This singular place is under 
the municipal administration of the town; 
but the cubtoms, dress, and patois of the in- 
liafaitaiits, are very peCkiliAr* They are very 
Mmersthious ; their ^d is principally fish, 
which, when sold by auction, are put up at a 
price coosiderahly above their real value, and 
this sum is diminished by the seller until one 
eries " Maingk/* (handle or take,) when the 
lot is sold to the person so bidding. The 
patois expels the sh or ek soft, even when 
the speakers are using Sn^^ish \ for this 
articulation the c ox s alone being substi- 
tuted. Jtn 1718, the Courgain was enlarged 
on the west sifle of the outward wall next to 

D 2 

Ihe harbour, by the erection of several houses, 
idl which were demolished by the orders of 
Buonaparte in 1803. The inhabitants of 
the Qmrgain subsist by their trade in fish, 
of which great quantities are sent to St. Omer, 
Aire, Lille, Douai, Paris, ^c Tet, the lot 
of the poor fisherwomen is indeed pitiable : 
sometimes, for a few shrimps, scarcQ enough 
.fbr her own med, she endures a whole day's 
etposnre to the angry billows, and the fatal 
shifting of the sand at the mouth of the har- 
bour ; whence, not unfrequently, the guidelest 
net or basket floatii back alone, to tell the 
impatient orphan the loss of an industrioua 

Towards the centre of the town wall, on the 
north side, near the gate of the Courgain, it 
a monument to the memory of two citizens 
of Calais, who were drowned in attempting; 
to save a shipwrecked crew, on October lo, 
1791 ; on which day twenty-one seamen were 
rescued by four other citizens. 

The Basse-Filie, (suburbs,) called also 
the parish of St. Herre, remains to be no- 
ticed : it is situated on the inland side of the 
town, and is interspersed with pleasant seats 
and i^ens. Jt is hud out m streets, so 
that it will one day form a regular town. 
The parish offers many advantages not en- 
joyed in Calais ; its taxes are very low, and 
the octroi, or municipal duty, being avoided, 
provisions are much cheaper. Already the 
Basse^Ville has its town-hall, quay, schools, 
and chapels ; jardin de$ plantes, and Vaux- 
hall Gardens. Lace and bobbin-net manu- 
fi&cture supports many poor families in the 
Basse-faille, as well as in Calais. Yet the 
suburb is not entirely new ; for it has a spa- 
cious hospital, which was built in 1&99, and 
repaired throughout in 1826. The iHio|(t)er 
01 houses has been more than quadmi^ed 
within the last fbur-and-twenty years. The 
total population of Calais and the Basse- 
Fille, natives and foreigners, was, in 1830, 

In the environs of Calais are many sites 
vsocii^ted with English histoiy. Ham. or 
kammes, about four miles distant, once had 
strong fortifications, in which the English 
monarchs of old immured the objects of their 
resentment, these newly-conquered places 
not being subject to the general laws of Ocea^ 
Britain : we are told that an Katl of Oiiford 
was starved in a fortress here, and his body 
concealed. About a mile and a half beyond 
Ham is situated the once-celebrated town of 
GKiines, since the taking of Cahus by the 
French, celebrated fbr its chapels of the Pro- 
testants, denominated Huguenots : the walls 
of the town were rased in 1557 ; but some 
ten or twelve feet of the keep of the castle 
remain. In the forest adjoining, is la column^ 
once surmounted by a sculptured balloon, to 
denote the spot whereon, Jan. 7) 178^} the 
aeronauts, Bladchard and Jtfferies, deiicended 



froin a bAUQ9n;th^: being the first that, ever 
10 eroieed the itrute between England and 

It wai on the eentral plain between the 
foietti of Gtiinee and Araies, that the cele- 
biated interview of the Gold Cloth Field took 
place, June the 7th, J 520, between Heniy 
Vlll. of England, and the French king, 
Francis I. A palace of wood, alter the mo- 
del ol the Wool-staple, was brought from ' 
England for this occasion, and set ud near 
the south gate of Gkiines. The splendour of 
the difRsrent tents, covered with gold cloth, 
whence the name given by historians to this 
memorable interview, is said to have sur- 
pasied all description : nor was the number 
1^18 considerable; there being, to use the 
words of an author of those times, '* twenty- 
eight hundrede sundray lodginges, that was a 
gMdlie sighte," which, with the chapel, lists, 
culinary and other offices, ovens, 4ec., un- 
doubtedly extended over the whole plain to 
Brdmes, the first village within the French 

At about four short leagues fiom Calais is 
the neat little town of Ardres, remarkable 
for the regularity of its fortifications. Its 
form within the first wall is that of a hexa- 
gon, but whose east and west sides are some- 
thing longer than any of the other four. 
Every angle is defended by a bastion ; the 
curtains between by demilunes; and these 
again by other out-works ; while the whole is 
iftirrounded with springs and streams of most 
excellent water. It was built about the 
year] 300. 

The neij^TibourhDod on all sides bears 
lliee» of Lis miUlary occupation in past ages : 
so late as ISJS, the r^^mains of a handsome 
Eii0i«h furt were demolished ; broken lines 
axe nuroeraus ; eastward, along the hills that 
tftirl the open sea, am the White Downs, at 
Which IcrTitinafed thu English camp at the 
>t«ge of 1.147; ADii a fow years uince was 
fmiad an ancient cannon, charged with a 
leaden ball and powdt!T| and supposed to have 
belonged to tht: Aet^t ihat besieged or block- 
ftdtid Bouloirne» uMvt Henry VIII. in 1544.* 
Wi^tmot and Vimertux dispute with Calais 
ami Buuloi^ne Mm honour of being the spot 
where Julius Cassar embarked to invade 
England; at Ambleteuse, James II. landed 
after the Revolution of 1688; and numerous 
lanes and places to this day bear the name of 

Happily, however, the whole plain now 
beams with peaceful industry and smiling 
liature, so as not unfrequently to obliterate 
the of former ages. Here coal- 
mines are worked by^ an English steam- 
engine ; on the other side are manufactories 
ot pottery, glass, and cotton-net, with their 
busy popiilmon ; marble quanies, and the 

• TWs intenpliiic rdie wm pwehaaed l>y Loid 
MkUtotoB, bimlbr the tom of Mf . 

distant smoke of lime-kilns, denote that the 
materials for improvement are at ^and ; the 
roadsides and the more rural portion anfe in- 
terspersed with cottages and elegant eAa« 
ieaux; the cultivated districts grow excellent 
grain ; and the once barren common ground, 
enckwed in 1794, is now changed into fra- 
grant parterres and luxuriant gardens. Thm 
market of Calais is well supplied with fruit 
and vefi^etables, not forgetting that indisp«n* 
sable ingredient in French cookery, the iZif- 
mex, or sorrel, for which every gardener 
leaves an ample plot Half-yearly Curs, each 
of about a fortnight's duration, are held in 
the Grande Pbtee^ and are well stocked with 
clothing, jewellery, books, music, toys, &c. 
Every hamlet in the vicinity has its summer 
dueasses, ot /etes : << they manage these 
things better in France ;** and the English' 
visitor is compelled to admit, that the amuse- 
ments of the people are there more simple 
than in his own country ; for a Frendi fete 
is hi||^her in the scale of enjoyment than aa 
English fair. 

And now, returning from our descriptive 
tour by Calais Green, instead of the l>all- 
marks from the useless piece of ordnance on 
Dover Castle Hill, (noticed in our last voiJ} 
we find our countrymen enjoying the noble» 
trulv English galne of cncket — far more 
healthful than the game of war. Surely, it 
is better to sit under one*s own fig-tree (or 
hotel,) than to stand the brunt of ahard fire ; 
at least, such has been our impression as we 
have lingered on ;he shores of Calais, tracing 
the louff white cliffs and purple castle of deer 
England over the wide yet placid kea.t 

9tAIk faqprobmimti^. 


Wa are about to lay before our readers some 
remarks upon the Parks of London ; and 
we seize the ooportunity, in the first plaee* 
of remarking the very great improvements 
in beauty and convenience, that have, r^ 
cently been effected, and of acknowledging 
the benefits which latter adminbtrations, bat 
more particularly the existing commissioii^ 
have secured to the public. 

To those who remember the Hyde Park 
of twenty years past, the difference must be 

i The antiqaariiin detaUfl of thit and the praceding 

Cpen have been, in the main, eondeued from a Tiiry 
tereetinx Ouide to Calais, bv 8. W. Syddell. np- 
warda of twenty yean rerident in the town. We te- 

commend every Bnglishnuui who makm but a da^*s 
stay in Calais to puiehaM this little book ; tat, inde- 
pendently of ita historical interest in pointing out the 

aotiqaities of the town and neif hbourhood, he will 
soon save its cost by the "General Infbrmation for 
Visitors** which it conUins. We have found Calsb. 
by occasional visito and tojoams, a moch move in- 
teresting place than it is geaecally supposed to bs. 
Mi*. Starke doe* not show her nsoal acenraey of ob- 
servation, in saying " it eontahis no olijeet cf in- 
terest,** as we tmst the fbregoing papa* (M^ 



very stf iking ; but efen wUhin a ▼•rj iihort 
•pac6 of time, it hat men from a barren 
'Waste, edged round by a narrow road, to a 
▼erdant lawn ftodded with weU-dispoted 
plantations, and an arrangement of walk* 
and drives that cannot be surpassed. Ken- 
sington Gardens, too, so strikingly described 
by a celebrated French beau^ of the day 
as a « Beau triste/* has no longer that 
sombre character. The thinning of Uie 
trees, the removal of the lower branches 
that impeded the circulation of air, the 
improvement of the walks, and the addi- 
tional well-chosen approaches to them, have 
given a new aspect to the scene. The 
•• longs of the town," to borrow Mr. Wynd- 
ham's phrase, have been most skilfully 

Bn^ if Hyde Park calls up the recollection 
and elMits the comparison above mentioned, 
liOw much more will the present age gain, 
by comparing St. James's Park with the 
nnadomed sameness of a former day*. The 
genius of Nash has here been most favour- 
ably employed; and the kindness of the 
monarch, (George IV.) who directed its 
opening to the puMic, must be gratefully 
leh by the crowds who daily enjoy it The 
Regent's Park adds another to these in- 
stances of a less exclusive svstem ; and the 
benefit will be felt in the unproved health 
and morals of the people. By the oppor- 
tnaitiek thus afforded to the trading and 
operative classes, the hebdomadal visit to the 
aaborban tavern, or the nightly relaxation 
of the skittle ground, (to be enjoyed by the 
husband alone on account of its expense), 
is exchanged for the healthful recreation of 
the WHOLB FAMILY,— in fields as verdant, 
and in air as pure, as the most opulent can 
«ommand: and while the privilege thus 
enjoyed removes a grudge at the benefits 
conferred by wealth, it thereby effects a 
moral and physical change equally beneficial. 
But though much has been done, some 
room may yet remain for the exercise of 
judgment and taste ; and we offer our re- 
marks to the attention of the authorities, so 
competent to appreciate them justly, and to 
act upon them should they appear deserving 
of attention. 

The suggestion<i naturally divide them- 
selves into two heads— beauty and conve- 

In Kensington Gardens, the former would 
be infinitely increased by substituting a light 
railing for the southern boundary wall, 
thereby letting in the view of Hyde Park ; 
and the latter would be promoted by inclos- 
ing for the use of the residents of the palace, 
the north-west portion of the gardens by a 
qiiick*hedge, removed a few yards, but pa- 
rallel to the ^at walk ; affording, with no 
perceptible diminution of ihe public conve- 
nience, a space for private -recreation. For 
the iurther promotion of the comforts of the 

residents and of tlie pttbfic, w m tmM r mfom 
mend that a sate Ibr fsoft pM ss ng a rt bs 
opened from the K^nsmgtoB-road on a Ub# 
with the door at the southern extrenltjF of 
the great walk. The stream of populatioa 
would, by this arrangement, be carried /rssi 
the palace ; their approach to the gardeaa 
from Kensington made more direct; aM 
the quiet of the inhabitants promoted. 

In Hyde Park, the most desirable altera- 
tion would be to cover, by a brick sew«r, 
the almost stagnant pool, (or at least tha 
centre division,) at the bottom of the Ser- 
pentine-river ; a deliffhtful turf tide woold 
thus be obtained, (which might be called tlia 
Queen's Ride), paraUel to the gravel or 
King's Ride ; and a gate opened to it at its 
eastern angle near the Piccadilly lodge. It 
should be entii^ely closed from the end of 
September to the beginning of May, and 
the turf carefully attended to. A delightfiil 
ride would thus be formed for the ladiee* 
now so generally equestrians, without the 
annoyance or the danger of contact with 

^ We would further recommend the imme- 
diate removal of such trees as prevent the 
view from Piccadilly of the statue erected 
in honour of the D uke of Wellington. This 
magnificent work of art— however inappro- 
priate, or however little conveyin^jf an ideii 
of the occasion of its erection— is yet too 
grand in its form, and groups too well with 
the colonnade, to be condemned to have iti 
form mutilated by the intervening foliage. 
The trees therefore recently planted in front 
of it, should be removed ; and, at the same 
time, those at the back should be so trimmed 
as to aUow the profile always to be seen 
against the sky. 

We shall avail ourselves of this oppor- 
tunity of adding a few words upon this 
statue. By what authority it was miscalled 
" Achilles " we are not informed. By the 
Italian antiquaries, Vennti and Vasi, they 
(for there are two statues, very nearly simi- 
lar, on the Monte Cavallo at Rome, from 
one of which this is copied) are called Castor 
and Pollux ; by Flaxman they are termed 
Bellerophon. But whether Achilles, Cas- 
tor, Pollux, or Bellerophon, we hope — 
now that a second subscription has been 
raised for the purpose of consecrating the 
triumphs of the Duke of Wellington — ^that 
the sculptors of the country will not be 
insulted oy the opinion of the committee of 
management, that it is necessarv to import 
a copy from the antique. At the time of 
its erection, we boasted the talent of a Flax- 
man, a Chantrey, a Westmacott, a Bailey, 
and a Rossi : but they were not required to 
prepare designs ; and a statue was erected, 
bearing no one attribute or symbol that could 
by possibility identify it with its object 
We may too, on this occasion, be warranted 
in giving a hint as to the Material. 0/iAe 



man^t matuf thousands of statues in bronze 
wkioh decorated Greece and Italy j not one 
has been preserved to us; and it nhoiUd be 
a lesBOD to us not to employ a valuable ma-i 
terial for uuoh a purpose. Where is now 
tbe Minervtt, thirty-nine feet high, made by 
Phidias^ of i?ory and gold* holding a Victory 
ip her right band, the eyes of which, Plato 
tells U9> were precious stones ? Where the 
Ol^pian Jupiter of Ells, composed of 
ivcory^' enriched with a radiance of golden 
MAameuts and precious stones, and esteemed 
one of the wonders of the world ? 

The valuable materials of which these 
works were composed might well become 
t^ object of barbarian or civil fpoil; but 
has the baser metal, bronze^ been more res* 
pect^d ? The history of all times denies it. 
The statues on the Trajan and Antonine 
eoluipns have been toppled down, and have 
diflappeared ; even where bronze has been 
emploiye4 on stone or marble for inscriptions, 
the letters have been picked out, (as in the 
arch of Trajan, at Ancona,) for their intrin- 
sic value. In later times, the statue of 
Henry IV. which decorated the Pont Royal 
at Paris, was during the revolution cast into 
pieces of two sous. Our own capital offers 
us the same lesson : — ^the statue now at 
Charing Cross was sold during the troubles 
of the reign of Charles I. for the value of 
the material, and only preserved as a specu- 
lation of the biazier who purchased it. 

Is it too great a stretch of fancy to ima- 
gine that the statue which has given occasion 
to this digression, may in the lapse of ages 
again be oast into cannon to defend our 
posterity from the attacks of its former 
owners ; or that the Pitt of Hanover-square, 
the Fox of Bloomsbury, and the Canning of 
Westminster, may mingle in the same cal- 
dron to challenge the admiration of a future 
age under the form of an usurping tyrant, a 
goddess of liberty, or a coinage of penny 

As if to impress these truths more 
strongly upon our minds, we behold in the 
British ^luseum the marble statues which 
enriched the tympanum and frieze of the 
very temple which enshrined the splendid 
statue of Minerva above alluded to. Ages 
have rolled over them ; frequent wars have 
d<esolated the city of the immortal Greeks, 
and slavery for centuries held them in 
chains; but the marble yet remains to attest 
their former greatness, and to prove to all 
succeeding times, that such memorials should 
be formed of a valueless material. 

The Green Park affords a great scope for 
improvement, and the means of a very 
desirable addition to the beauty of this 
approach to London. The ranger's house 
and boundary wall should be removed, and 
twenty feet added to the width of Piccadilly, 
from Park-lane to Berkeley-street The 
(dope from the Reservoir to the road of SU 

James's Parki should be arranged in terraces, 
and enriched with statues, vases, and bassi 
relievi; and some approximation thereby 
made to the intellectual character of the 
continental gardens, the Tuilleries of Paris* 
the Giardino Realeof Naples, and the Borg- 
hese of Rome. 

The enclosure qf St. James's Park isper^ 
feet; but the trees that mask the York 
Column from the gate of Great George- 
street, should be removed ; thereby effectmg 
the double purpose of opening the Park 
from the Colunm, and the Column from the; 

From this point, (by the paternal atten* 
tion of hi« late Majesty, William IV.> to hi(» 
people'9 comfort and convenience,) we as^n^ 
Regent-Htreet, through Waterloo-place, tQ 
the termination of our subject, the Regent's 
Park ; aqd we trust we shall be excused th<| 
expression of our regrets that the opportu* 
nity of forming the mo^t splendid street ia 
Europe has been so entirely lost With 
very tew exceptions, thiere is here no b^ikk 
ing deserving commendation ; and the tpste 
which could have sanctioned many of them 
cannot be too strongly condemned. JV^agni* 
ficent as its vhole course might have beeuf 
had the line of the High-street Oxford beipi 
kept in view, or attention paid to each si^&i 
ceediog vistja* ^e ht^ve now no po«4 at 
which to stpp and admire its effect Passr 
ing on to Oxtord-street, we hi^ve a repetition 
of the circle at PiccadiJUy, and in front a 
church, which, for deformity in design* 
exceeds any thing that has been erected 
during the 'last ^ty years. As if to maka 
this deformity more monstrous, the church 
is placed at an awkward ai^le to the f treet» 
thus destroying it as an architectural whole* 
and making an exposure of the baldness of 
its flanks and the hideous ugliness of ita 

From hence we are unexpectedly led intQ 
Portland-place, confessedly for extent and 
regularity* if not for beauty, the finest street 
in Europe, — but how terminated ? Instead 
of continuing by a broad road^ as a principal 
approach to the Regent's Park, it abruptly 
terminates in a screen of shrubs, low indeed^ 
but just lofty enough to shut out the^ew 
of the Park, and of the Highgate and 
Hampstead HiUs, and to injure by their 
branches and foliage the bronze statue ai 
His Royal Highness the Duke of Kent. 1 
fear no power exists for favourable alterar 
tions in the line of street ; but the power 
vested in the office of Woods and Forest;^ 
and 80 judiciously exerted at the ii^tance o^ 
his late Majesty in opening the approach to 
St Jameses Park by the York Coljaoin* 
might with equal propriety be exerted hereu 
The carriage and footway should be contir 
nued in a straight line to the ppening of the 
avenue in the Park, and the statue of the 
Dolce of I^ent placed on a column qa tiM 



S»per ground of the val^. There would 
en he something of character at each 
extremity of the line ; and it is scarcely pos- 
sible that it could be more properlj termi- 
nated than by statues^ of which that of the 
Duke of York reminds us of a period, when, 
by the indefatigable attention of His Royal 
Highness, the army attained an efficiency 
that led> under the conduct of its generals, 
to universal victory, — and that of the Duke 
of Kent, to the contemplation of a Prince, 
who, in the sphere in Which he was called 
upon by Providence to move, displayed a 
perseverance beyond all praise, io the clause 
of civil liberty, and the social happiness 
mid charitaj^le institutions of the country. 
If the alteration here proposed be thought 
160 large, and the compromise so often and 
80 injuriously made between what ought to 
he and what can eastfy be effected, be 
adopted ; then, most assuredly, should the 
totatue be placed at such an elevation as 
would secure to it the sky for a back- 

In the Park itself, we have little to pro- 
pose, save the gpreater accommodation of 
tiie public, by opening the remaining in- 
closed spaces, and the addition of some or- 
namental architecture, affording an opportu- 
nity for placing statues, bassi relievi, and 
Vases in various parts. The quadrupeds 
have indeed been turned out, and the bipeds 
turned in, but with just as much attention 
4o the one as the other. The latter walk 
'listlesjly about, enjoying indeed the air and 
^ exercise ; but the intellect is unemployed. 
>^he contemplation of the statue of a bene- 
factor of mankind, either of ancient or mo- 
dem times, or a basso relievo representing 
•im historical fact, would generate a wish to 
4)e informed of the history ;— the desire of 
-knowledge would induce reading, and such 
occupation would remove the relish for gross 
pleasures. The Parks might then become 
spaces, adapted not merely to help the 
people to pass their time, but also to put 
them in the way of improving it ; and a go- 
vernment so disposed might, by the substi- 
tution of such amusements for the now too 
much encouraged dissipation of the gin 
<palace, be placed on the sure basis of public 
opinion and general happiness.— C«wYiB»- 
gineer and Arehitecft JoumaL 

\Fro^ Me of the niost delightful chapten in the Rural 

Life ofMngland.^ 
■ In my brief visit to New Forest, I set out 
- from liyndhurst, and walked up to Stony- 
Cross, the place of Kufus*s death. From 
the moment that I turned up out of Lynd- 
hurst, i seemed to have entered an ancient 
y^iop. There was an old-world primitive 

air about every thing, that fSi»A me with h 
peculiar feeling of poetiy. I left behind 
the nineteenth eentury, and was existing in 
the tirelfth or fourteenth. Open knolls, and 
oscending woodlands on one side, covered 
with miijestic beeches, and the village chil- 
dren playing under them; on the other, 
the most rustic cottages, almost buried 
in the midst of their orchard trees, and 
thatched as Hampshire cottages only are 
— in such projecting abundance, — such 
flowing lines. Thatch does not here seem 
the stiff- and intractable thing it does 
elsewhere; nor is it cut in that square, 
straight-haired fashion ; but it seems the 
kindliest thing in the world. It bends over 
gables and antique casements in the roofy 
and comes sweeping down over fronts rest^ 
ing on pillars, and forming verandas and 
porches; or over the ends of the houses, 
down to the very ground, forming the nicest 
sheds for plants, or places to deposit garden- 
tools, milk-pails, or other rural apparatus. 
The whole of the cottages thereabout are in 
equal taste with the roof; so different to 
the red, staring, square brick houses oi ma- 
nufacturing districts. They seem, as no 
doubt they are, erected in the spirit, and 
under the influence, of the genius loci. 
The bee-hives in their rustic rows ; the 
little crofts, all belong to a primitive coun- 
try. I went on ; now coming to small 
groups of such places; now to others of 
superior pretensions, but equally blent with 
the spirit of the surrounding nature ;— little 
paradises of cultivated life. As I advanced, 
neathery hills stretched away on one hand ; 
woods came down thickly and closely on 
the other, and a winding road beneath the 
shade of large old trees, conducted me to 
one of the most retired and peaceful of 
hamlets. It was Minstead. There was an 
old school-house; and beneath the large 
trees that overshadowed the way, lay huge 
trunks of trees cut ready for conveyance to 
the naval dock-yards ; and the forest chil- 
dren, on their way to school, were playing 
amongst them ; now climbing upon them, 
now pushing each other off with merir 
laughter ; boys and girls, as 1 approached, 
scampering away, and into the school. 

I know not how it is, but such places of 
woodland and old-fashioned 8eclusion,of such 
repose and picturesque simplicity, always 
bring strongly to my mind the stories of 
Tiecke. There must be a great similarity 
in the aspect of these scenes, and of those 
which he has so much delighted to describe. 
1 thought of the old woman with her dog 
and bird. Every solitary cottage seemed 
just such as hers was. I seemed to hear 
the birch-trees shiver in the breeze, the 
dog bark, and the bird sing its magic song. 

Alone in wood so gay 

*T is good to stay* 

Morrow like to-day. 


rmi MIRROR. 

Alone in irMftMimr. 

It wu early aatuiiui. AU biHs iwffly 
had eeaaed to sing ; and the deep hush of 
natare bat made more distinct thig sj^irit^ 
•ong, amid the delicious reT^rie* in Wh^h I 
went wandering along, 'enveloped' as ill 4 
heavenly cload. AU oWir' the moorland 
gvound 'iJ^pread the drimstbnglowof the hea- 
ther. 'I went onward and upward; passing 
the gates of Tdrent lodg^es, and looking down 
into vidleys,' whence arose the smoke of 
hats aAd chiirck>al-fire.<V /And, anbn, I stood 
apoif the airy height, and saw woodi* below, 
and' felt near me iolitade,' and a spirit that 
had brooded there for ladfes. I paiised orer 
high, 'atiU' heaths,' treading on ]>laats that 
groWon^ in; natare*^ inost unbultivMikl soil-, 
to the mighty beeches of Boldre Wood, and 
thence away to fresh masses of forest; 
Herds of re^-deer rose from the fern, and 
went bounding away, and dashed into the 
depth of the woods ; troops of those gray 
and long'tailed fbrest horses turned to gaze 
at I passed down the open glades ; and the 
red squirrels, in- hundreds, scampered up 
from the ground where they were feeding 
on falling mastj and the kernels of pine- 
cones, and stamped and chattered on the 
boaghs abore me. 

A lady who Kres on the skirts of tiie 
forest, and who moreover has walked 
through the spirit-land with power, and is 
ktiown and honoured by all true lovers of 
piaihbs and imagination, had solemolv 
warned me not to attempt to pass through 
the larger woods without a guide; but 
what guide, except such as herself, or as 
the venerable 'William Gilpin would have 
been, could one have that we should not 
wish away ten times in a minute ? If we 
must be lost, why, so let it be ; but let us 
be lost in the freedom of one*s own thoughts 
and feelings. Delighted with the true 
woodland wildness and solemnity of beauty, 
I roved onward through the widest woods 
that came in my way ; and once, indeed, I 
imagined that a guide would really have 
been agreeable. Awaking as from a dream, 
I saw far round me, one deep shadow, one 
thick and continuous roof of boughs, and 
thousands of hoary boles standing clothed^ 
as it were, with the very spirit of silence. 
A track in the wood seemed to lead in the 
direction I aimed at ; but having gone on 
fur an hour, here admiring the magnificent 
* sweep of some grand old trees as they hung 
into a glade, or a ravine, some delicious 
opening in the deep woods, or the grotesque 
figures of particular trees, whieh seemed to 
have been blasted into blackness, and con- 
torted into inimitable crookedness by the 
salvNge geniusiof the place, — I found myself 
^gain before one of those very remarkable 
trees which I had paiaed long before. It 

wns tco iiiigokir id be mistaken, and I stood 
to hold a aertont oouncil with myself. Aa 
I stood, I became more than ever sensible of 
fhte tombrlike sileikce in #hich I waal 
There was not the slightest sound of run- 
ning water, whispering leaf, or the votee of 
any creature; the beating of my ownheiarty 
the ticking of my watch, weire ^ne heord. 
It was that deep stillness which haa beeif 
felt there by others. ' 

Thtt watehaisn from the eastle top .., 

AlnuMt might hear an acwn Uropb 

It WM^n calm mud still ; * ■ • f 

Mi|dit beer the stags in HoekBdl«MMib i 

And eatch, by ita, the disteat moan , ., 


TkslMJCtiy. ' 

Whichever way I looked, (be forart.stiet4|id 
in one dense twilight. It wm the twry^ntf^ 
sation of that appalling hush and bewildien^g 
continuity of shade so bften described ly tia^ 
travellera in the American woods. 1 bad 
ioat now all sense of any particular directioo, 
and the only chance of nsaehing the outside 
of the wood was to -go as much aa p e siib l o in 
one direct line. . Away then I ;vent, bu| 
aoon found myself entangled in the thickest 
Jinderwood— actually overhead in qink weada< 
now on the veige of an knpMMble bog, and 
BOW on that oCadeep imvme. Fortuoalelf 
for me, the auaimor had been lematkahly 
diy, and the ravinea were diy too, — I oould 
deweod into them, and cUmb out ou tho 
other aide. But the more.'I atroiggled oi% 
the atore I became confounded. iVuaing im 
eonaider m^ situation, I saw a hairy laea and 
a laige pair of evea fixed on me. Had It 
been a satyr, I felt that I sliould aot hn% 
been surprised, it , seemed ao jatyr-like » 
place. It was only a^ stag, which, with ito 
liead just above the tall fern, and ita aoitlaio 
amongst the boug^, looked very much liko 
KUhlebom of the Undine stoiy. As I moved 
towards him he dashed away through the 
jungle, for so only oould it be called, and I 
could long hear the crash of hia progteso* 
Ever and anon, huge swine wHh a fierce 
gufikw rushed from their lain— one mif^ 
have imagined them the wdd boars of m 
German forest At length I caught tiie 
tinkle of a cow-bell — a diMrlbt aoeed, for it 
must be in aome open part of the forest^ and, 
from its distinctness, not for diataat Th^* 
therward I turned, and soon emerged into « 
sort of island in the aea of woo£, a form, 
like an American clearing. I sat down on 
a fallen tree to cool and rest myself, and waa 
sfruok with the beauty Of the place.* ThMa 
green fiekb Ijriog ao paaeefiiliv anid this 
woods, which in oat^mco pushed forward 
their aeatterad tieei^ m another retreated; 
heie 'ipnnklii^ tiiMii out thinly on the 
comiMO^ and there haOf^g Htmr tmaaaea 
of (hurk fi>lia)(e over a low-thatcbed hut dr 
two. The qui^t fonn-houfte, too, sunonndad 
byitabeltof taHhoHtes; the flocks of goeie 



(•* Jtkok oTOanft Hmm/* Oxoo.) 

d Up t WM i a vm the ihoit tuff, and the cowi 
coHiiiiff hone out of the foiest to be milked : 
H wu^a inoit j^eaeeful ptctuie, and unlike all 
tittt eititeae are aeeustomed to contemplate, 
eaeept in Spentert or the German writeie. 
Theee e0w-bells> too^ have aomethinffin their 
eeund so quaint and woodfamd. They are 
piling W a leathern attap ftom the neck ef 
Uto mmbt, having neither eound nor ahape 
of a oonMBOii tcC hut aie like a tin eaniater, 
vi>lth m nh\g at the bottom to luapend them 
If. They seem like the first rudimentAl 
attempt at a bell, and have a sound dull and 
libmy, rather than clear and ringingr. The 
Kfltders of these herds ere ei^ to have a 
■tajfolar sagacity in traefcing the woods, 
ahd finding their way to ptttioilir spots, 
attid home agein, by ettmordioary and intri- 
cate ways. 

^ving now a dear conception of my 
position, I proceeded leisurely towards 
SlQojr-Croes, the reputed place of the ca- 
tastrophe of Rufns. 

fliucttote ^RXUtg. 

'" Moot 09 OAYTNT'S BOOSX,'' OZON. 

Bbtws^n the villages of Standlake and 
Korthmoor,. in the Bampton Hundred, west- 
ward of Oxford, is the above curious and in- 
terestinflr building, now used as a farm-house, 
known by the name of Gaunt House, from 
its being traditionally represented as one of 
the residencei of** time-honoured Lancaster,'* 
John of Gaunt Ant k Wood has given us, 
in his MSS.. relative to the history of this 
place, a few particulars, which tend greatly 
to remove the vague traditions concerning it 
lie coneeives that it was built by John Gaunt 
•nd JosA his wife. There was a brass in 
.Stvuftfiefce chi»^,;hi«h Wfs engraved 

the following inscription : — ^ Orate *pio 
animi Johannis Gaunt, nuper uaoris Johan- 
nis Gaunt qu» obiit s die Ilmtif,amwDkRK 
MCCCCLXV." This house was used ai a 
garrison for King Charles in the years 1B43 
end l644;-it then belonged to Dr.flamoel 
Fell, dean of Christchurch, and aftemnHdato 
his son, John Fell, IXD., and bishop of Oi» 
irad.' The (ddhmise is pertly mealed, and 
there are some tfaoes of a dmwbridge. It 
has evidently been a maasioa of some note; 
but Wood's explanation must be considefed 
as corrective or the eanseson error, bv which 
it has acquired notorietj as a residence of 
John of Gaunt 


Lord H9WS im tkt Qiiartar^ Rmriew,) 
SmcB the siege of Malta by the Turks, no 
siege hod ever been nodertaken with snoh 
mighty preparations, and carried on with 
such advantageous circamstanees and deter- 
«iined perseverance, as that of Gibraltar. 
The hope of recovering this place by th^ 
astfistance of the French seems to have 
been the chief motive by which Spain wae 
induced to join the alliance against England, 
having no jsrring interests with England, no 
points of dittpute, and not cause enough of 
complaint to supply matter vrith any^ a pye a &» 
ance of truth for a plausible manifesto. A 
Spanish academician and profesiior, D. If^ 
nacio Lopes de Ayala, published at this 
time a good history of Gibraltar. The tena- 
ciousness, he said, of the English in retain- 
ing this place, the just determination of the . 
Spaniards io recover it, their repeeted a^ 


temptd, and the disciuudonsi and protesU 
concerning it in Congresses and Parliaments, 
had rendered it not less famous than the 
strongest and most important cities in Italy 
or Flanders. The King of Spain, Charles 
Ill.y the only one who could avert the ruin 
with which the English were threatened, 
had o£&ired his mediation, as a faithful friend 
and arbitrator, to re-establbh peace with 
Frapee and with the Americans. Having 
offered it in vain» he yras bent upon recor 
vering the key and bulwark of his own em- 
pire ; a history of Gibraltar t^en was espe- 
cially required when the Catholic King was 
making incredible preparations, both by sea 
and land, to conquer it. Ayala brought 
down his history^ in three books, to the esta- 
ULihment of the blockade. 

The siege had continued three years when 
iiord Howe sailed from Spithead with 
thirty-four sail of the line, six frigates, and 
three fire-ships, with a convoy for the relief 
of the garrison. Two days, before they 
sailed, the memorable loss of the Royed 
George occurred ; Admiral- Kempenfelt 
and about. nine hundred persons being lost 
in the ship. The calamity waa the more 
flprievous, because it appears to have been 
Xb» .consequence o( gross neglect . in the 
officers of. the.^avy Board ; the ship hav- 
ing beetn continued, in service till there was 
not a. sound timb«r in her. IVhen the fleet 
sailed* tlie l^glish gpivemment was . not 
aware that, the renewed pieparations of the 
Spaniards for prosecuting the siege werf 
such in nature and magnitude as had never 
before been attempted by any power in £ur 
rope. A French engineer had constructed 
floating batteries, which were supposed' U) 
be both impregnable and incomoustible ; 
they were bomb-proof on the top, with a 
descent for the shells to slide off, and forti- 
fied on the larboard side six or seven feet 
thick with green timber and raw hid^iT. 
They were so constructed also, that if a red- 
hot shot should pierce either their sides or 
roof, it must pass through a tube, which 
would disdharge water to extinguish any 
$re that it might cause. The expense of 
these floating batteries was estimated at 
150,000/. ** Ce fameux tiege,*' says a 
French journalist, " occupe toute V Europe 
auJovrtTyui, et sera certainement Peven^ 
merit de la guerre le plug interetsant. H 
est tres essenttel quHl sefiniste, par les de* 
penses enomies quHl entraihe, la quantite 
d'hommes et de force navale qu'il oeeupe 
depuis trots ans.*' With such preparations 
and such ample means, the besiegers thought 
themselves sure of success : the capture of 
Gibraltar by the floating batteries was exhi- 
bited in one of the theatres at Paris, and the 
Count d*Artois and the Due de Bourbon 
went to serve as volunteers at the siege^ and 
to partake in the victory. The grand attack 
^sis hastened by the knowledge, which the 

enemy had obtained, that Lord Howe wa» 
on his way to relieve the fortress ; and the 
Admiral Don Luis de Cordoba washes- 
patched with the contlnned fleet to prevent 
this intended relieve, and gave him batfle^ 
" The conquest of Gibraltar," says Sir John 
Barrow, <* would ha\e given to the Fren9h 
and Spaniards the entire command of t^ 
Mediterranean : the national character ahd 
honour of Great Britain would have been 
lost with it> and our' influence to the east- 
ward of the Straits ^nnihihited." 

On the 12th of September, 1782, th^ 
comlnned fleets entered the bay :~^" It a^<9 
peared,'' anyn Colonel Drinkwater, in hit 
most interesting history of the siege, '< as if 
they meant, previous to their final effort,- to 
strike, if possible, a terror through their 
opponents, by displaying before us a more 
powerful armament than had probably ^er 
teen brought against any fortress. Forty- 
seven sail of the line, including three infe- 
rior two-deekers, ten battering-shijps, deemed 
perfect in design and esteemed mvincible, 
oaiffying 212 guns, iOaunieraUe frigates^ 
xebeqoes, bombkcatchos, cutters, gun aod 
mortar boats, and smaller Cf aft for disem^ 
harking men*~these were assembled in ih^ 
bay. On the land, side were strong batt«rie« 
acd works, mounting 200 pieces of heavy 
ordnance, and protected by an army oi 
nearly 40,000 men, coounanded by t vioto^ 
vioua and active general of the highest rep^ 
taMon, aad animated by the presence of t^ 
two princes of the royal Wood of Fri«u?«9 
with other dignified personages, and many 
of tlieir own nobili^. S\ich « naval and 
military spectacle ntost certainly is. not tp 
be equalled in the axmali of war. From aoeli 
a combination of power «nd favouraUe coQ* 
oun ent circomstancesi it was natural enough 
that they should anticipi^e the most gloriou* 
consequences. Indeed their confidence 19 
the effeot to be produced by the battering. 
^lips pasted all pounds, and, iii the enthu* 
^itsmexvUed by the magnitude of their pre- 
parations, it was thought .ciifqinal even tQ 
whisper a doubt of their success.'' 

The garrison consisted of little more than 
7,000 effective men, including the marine 
brigade, but they were veterans in the service, 
had been long habituated to the effects of 
artillery, were well commanded, and had fi^ 
confidence in their officers. <* Their spirits, 
too, were not a little elevated by the sucoete 
attending the recent ))ractice of firing red- 
hot shot, which in this attack they hoped 
would enable them to bring their labours to 
an end, and relieve them from the tedious 
cruelty of a blockade." On the morning of 
the 13th, the floating batteries got under 
way. H had been supposed by our navel 
men thai Ih^ would be brought before the 
fortress in- the night ; few persons, thpre- 
fbre, sijbSpected that Uieir present movemnt 
was pr^aratory to the grand attack f^i 


obterving ar crowd of'specUtorH on .the beach 
and upon the neighbouring eminenceif , and the 
ships edging' down towards the garrison, the 
Governor thought it would be imprudent to 
^abt it any longer, and ordered therefore the 
town batteries to be manned, and the grates 
and furnaces for heating shot to be lighted* 
The floating batteries bore down in admi- 
rable order for their station, a little pa^t nine 
o'clock, the most dintant being about eleven 
or twelve hundred yards from the garrison. 
Tb^y took their places in a masterly manner, 
and our artiilery allowed them without mo- 
lestation to choose their distance ; but when 
the first dropped her andior, which was 
about a quarter before ten, that instant our 
filing commenced. In little more than ten 
minutes they were all completely moored. 
''The cannonade then become in a high 
degree tremen<h>ns, 400 pieces of the hea* 
viest artillery playing at itie same moment $ 
an instance,'* Ciolonel Drinkwater says, 
** which has scarcely occurred in any siege 
since the invention of these engines of des* 
traction.^' An Italian officer, who was in 
the Spanish fleet, aays, that from the cool 
and intrepid manner in which the attack 
was begun, great hopes were entertained of 
Gerta,in sncceis. The enemy, indeed, were 
neither wanting in skill nor courage, and 
after the ^ring had eoatinued for some 
hours, the floating batteioes were found te 
be quite ms formid«ibie us they had bees 
represented. The heaviest shells rebounded 
Irom tl^ir t/9^ and 32«poMDd shot seemed 
to make no visible impression on their hulls. 
The red-hot shot began to be used aboat 
9oon, but were not general till between one 
and two o'clock. The garrison often flat- 
tered themselves that some, of the batteries 
were on fire, but no sooner did any smoke 
appear, than men were observed directing 
W&ter from their engines within to those 
places where the smoke issued. '* Theee 
circumstaaces,'' says the historian .of the 
sie^e, <' with the prodigious cannonade 
which they maintained, gave us reason ito 
imi^ne that the attack, would not be so 
soon decided as, from Oiur former success 
against their land butteries, we had ex- 
pected." Even the artillery at this time 
jnad their doubts of the effect of sedthot 
shot. The enemy at first had elevated their 
cannon too much, but perceiving this about 
noon, their firing became powerful and w^ 
directed, and the garrison sufiered. accord^ 
ingly, being especially annoyed by a flank- 
ing and reverse fire from the land. But, 
totally disregarding the enemy on that side, 
the artillery directed .their sole attention to 
the floating butterieu. The a$tsailnnti<, howr 
ever, received so little damage, that iheijr 
sanguine hopes of Huccess were not abnted 
for a considerable time. For some lv>urs, 
indeed, the attack aad dettmce <were ao 
equally well supported, as to show little* or 

no appearance of superiority in the i 
en either side. But about two o'clock the 
enemy began to loose heart, seeing that the 
battering-ship which carried the admiral's 
flag, and had the engineer on b<»aid, begaa 
to smoke on the side exposed to the garrisoiu 
They continued their fire, however, and wevf 
encouraged by perceiving that the fortificatioB 
bad received some damage. But the gam- 
son were cheered with more reason, for they 
saw that the smoke from the upper part of 
the flag-ship was prevailing, notwithstanding 
the Cimstaat application of water, and that 
the admiral's second was in the same condi- 
tion. By seven oVIoek, the Italian officer 
says, all the hopes of the assaiknts vanished. 
Their firing slackeaed. By eight o*ck)ek it 
had almost ceased. Rockets weie thrown up 
as signals of distress* ** The led-hot balk 
had by this time taken such ^ect, that ths 
enemy new thought of nothing but saving 
the crews, axid Sie boats of the combined 
fleet were immediately sent on that pitiable 
service." Our artillery at this time must 
have caused dreadfol havock among them. 
An indistinct clamour, with lamentable cries 
and groan^ proceeded (dwing the short 
intervals of cessation) from all quarters; 
and a little before midnight a wreck floated 
in with twelve men, all who had escaped 
out of thitK3score, which were on board their 
launch. Though sure that they bad as 
.advantage over the enemy, the garrison weie 
not yet aware how complete a victory had 
been gained. 

About an hour a£|er midnight the batter- 
ing-ship upon which the red-hot shot first 
produced an effect, burst into flames, and by 
two o'clock she . appeared as one continued 
blaze from stem to stem. The light was 
equal to noonday, and enabled our artillery 
to point their guns with the utmost precision. 
Between three and four o'clock, six others 
of these batteries were on fire. They were 
so close to the walls, the Italian officer says, 
that the balls pierced into them full three 
feet ; but the holes made in these solid beds 
of green timber closed up after the shot, and 
for want of air it was long before the fire- 
balls produced their effect. It was honour- 
able, indeed, for the garrison thus to have 
obtained one of the completest defensive 
actions that has ever been recorded, and 
over the most formidable floating batteries 
that had ever been brought to b^r against 
a fortress. But the most honourable display 
of the British character was yet to be made. 
Howe's friend, Captain Curtis, who com- 
manded the marine brigade, had not beeu 
able during the day to bring his gun-boats 
against the battering-ships, because of the 
wind and the heavy swell. The sea having 
become calm about three o'clock in the 
morning, he drew up his boats so as to flank 
the line of the batteiing-sbips; he had twelve 



Ktm^^MMti, eiicli tkxryinf^ An eightefn or 
tweniy-lbur-poundttr, whiefa kept up their 
fifd with i^ftt e£R9Ct, while a veiy heavy and 
dostnictive fire was directed towards the 
s^iae point by the garrison. <* The boats of the 
•aemv," says Captain Curtis, " durst not ap- 
proach ; they abandoned their ships, and the 
men in them were left to our mer^ or to the 
fiames." Di^Iight now appeared, and two 
ftdilecas which had not escaped endeavoured 
to get away, but a shot from a gun-boat 
liillmg four men in one of them, they sub- 
mitted. Learning then from their prisoners 
that many men were unavoidably left by 
their friends on board the burning ships. 
Captain Curtis directed all his eiertions to 
rescue thenl. '< The scene before me>'' he 
says in his official letter, ** was at this time 
dreadful; numbers of men ctying from 
amidst the flames* some upon pieces of 
wood in the water, others in the ships 
where the fire had as yet made but little 
progress, all expressing by speech and ges- 
ture the deepest distress, and all implonng 
assistance* formed a spectacle of horror not 
to be described. The blowing up of the 
ihips around us as the fire get to the maga- 
sines, and the firing of the cannon of others 
as the metal became heated by the flames, 
rendered this a veiy perilous employment; 
but we feh it as much a duty to make every 
cffiirt to relieve our enemies from so shocking 
a situation, as an hour before we did to 
assist in conquering themi" One of the 
battering-ships blew up about ^vb o'clock, 
and soon afterwards another in tb« centre of 
the line The wreck from this spread £sr 
and wide, to the imminent danger of the 
British ^n-boats; one was sunk, but the 
crew were saved. Curtis's coxswain was 
killed, several of his people were wounded, 
and a piece of timber falling into the pin- 
nace, went through her bottom; she was 
only saved frpm sinking by the sailors stuf- 
fing their jackets into the hole. Yet though 
it was then deemed prudent to withdraipr 
towards the garrison, Captain Curtis visited 
two other ships on his return, and had, 
what he trul^ c&Ued, the inexpressible hap- 
piness of saving thirteen officers and three 
nundred and forty-four men, all Spaniards; 
thirty of these, who were wounded, were 
taken from among the slain in the hold, and 
carried to the garrison's hospital. There 
was reason to believe that a great many of 
the wounded' perished in the flames, though 
it was impossible that greater exertions coiSd 
have been made to save them. Six of the 
battering-ships were still] in flames. Three 
of them blew up before eleven o'clock ; the 
other three burnt to the water's edge, the 
magasines havibg been wetted before the 
principal officers had quitted the ships. The 
Spanish admiral did not leave his ship till 
nearly midnight, ihe other officers much 

earlier. There remained two battering^shipif 
which the conqueror hoped to save *' as glo* 
rious trophies of his success," but one of 
them unexpectedly bunt out in flames, and 
shortljr afterwards blew up; and Ae other, 
when it was fisuud impracticable to preserve 
it, was burnt by our saik>rs. 

Spirit o{ 9i€cohttfi. 


(JVmis hmmomi paper, aaUled " Ocmm Stmmen,*^ 

in the MtnUhfy Chnmele.) 
'' WtTHiN the memory of persons who hsve 
not jfet passed the meridian of UIb, the poa^ 
sibiuty of traversing by the steam-engine the 
channels and seas that surround and intdrtect 
these islands, was regarded as the dream of 
enthusiwts. NauticS men, and men of sci- 
ence, n^ected such * speculations with eqaal 
incredulity, and with httle less than scorn fo^ 
the understandings of those who could for a 
moinent entertain them. Yet have we lived 
to witness the steam-engine traversing, not 
these channels and seas alone, but sweeping 
the flEice of the waten rmmd every const in 
Europe. The seas which interpose between 
our Asiatic dominions and Kgypt, and those 
which separate our own shores from our West- 
Indian possesions, have oflbred an equally in- 
effiictusi barrier to its power. Nor have the 
terrors of the Pticific prevented the « Knter- 
prise" from doubling the Cape, and readiiog 
the shores of India. If steam be not usc3 
as the only means of conncetiag the mo^ 
distant habitable points of our pUmet, it^ 
not because it is inadequate to the acobiii- 
plishment of that end, but beclmse the sup^. 
ply of the material from which at the present 
moment it dertvee its powers is restricted by 
local and accidental drcumstanees." * 

The irresistible energy of British enter- 
prise, aided by the inexhaustible remrces of 
national art and science, is raj^dly enlarging 
these limits, not indeed as yet by the dia^ 
oovery of a new element of power, (though 
even that may not be far distant,) but by eco- 
nomisin^ the consumption, and improving 
the apphcation of the combustible, to the pro^ 
perties of which the nation is already so largely 
mdebted for her greatness. 

When we pause and look back upon the 
birth and growth of steam power, it is impoe- 
sible not to be filled with astonishment at tha 
colossal magnitude to which it ha^ already 
attained, though it cannot be justly regarded 
as having passed the state of adolescence. 
It is little more than snty years since Wait 
found the steam-engine a mere punip, (and 
not a very perfect one^) used for the dminag^i 
of mines ; and within a few short years after- 
wards, he bestowed upon it powers, the ez» 
tent and influence of which on the welUhcin^ 

• lAvdner on ^bie StMin-Eiigiii^ 6th edit. Lbn- 
doq^ltSI. Also, Ediablaigb Review. October, 183i^ 
p* lu4. 

THE lllltR^l. 

of the hummii nee have thiown iiito the tbede 
eveiy other production of art or ecience. Whe- 
Uier.we re|^ the hiftoiyof this ioventioa 
mm to time or places the e£&cto which it has 
pfoduced, or the means by which it has pro- 
duced these eflbcts, we find eveiy thing to, 
gratify our national pride, eoEcita ouc womihe^ 
•ad eommand oar admiration. 

Within the last century the steam-engine 
had its birth, and was cradled in Britain. 
The offspring of British genius, it was fos- 
tMcd by British enterprise, and supported by 
8ritish capital. It has. grown with a ra» 
pidity which has no example in the annals of 
mechanical invention to its present g^t 
statuiB. , To enumerate its effects would be- 
t^ count Inmost eveiy comfort and every lus- 
uiy of civilized life. It has increased the 
sum of human happiness, not only by calling 
new pleasures into existence, but by so cheap* . 
coing former enjojrments, as to render them 
attainable by those who never could have 
hoped to share them. Nor are these eflbcts 
opofined to Enj^land alone ; they extend over 
the whole civilized wodd ; and the savage 
tribes of America, . Asia, and Africa, ahready 
begin to feel, in a thousand ways, diiectlv 
and indirectly, the advantages ii this all* 
powerful agent 

Regarded as afiiseting the material condi« 
tion of man, the steam-engine has no rivaL 
Considered as a moral and social agent, it 
may be placed beside, if not before, the press. 
Extensive as were the former powers of that 
vast instrument of intellectual advancement, 
wifm can measure the augmentation which its 
ieiuen^ has received from its combinatiott 
wii& the stBam-engine ? 

But among the unnumbered benefits which 
tkb creation of Watt has showered on man- 
kind, there is assuredly none attended with 
consequences of such magnitude and import- 
atee as the powers -of locomotion, both by 
land and water, which it has coniSnrred upon 
us. Kveiy line of easy and repid intercom- 
munication l)etween nation and nation is a 
new. bond of amity, and a channel throu^ 
which streams of reciprocal beneficence will 
fioir. The extension of commercial relations 
thus produced will generate community of 
interests, and will multiply the motives for 
the maintenance of universal peace.^ Chan- 
nels will be opened, through which informa- 
tion and knowledge will pass from people to 
people; civilization will be stimulated, morals 
^evated, taete oiltivated, mannere refined. 
The ten^pks of superstition will be rased to 
the ground, the darkness of ignorance dis- 
{M^led, national antipathies uprooted, and the 
^pulation of the globe taught to regard them- 
selves as deniseus of one great commonwealth, 
and children of one common Fathxr. 
[ Such are the benefits which fiow from the 
tople league of the Steam-engine with the 
Prsis, the Ship, and the Railway. These ere 

the combioed powers to whiA aetiopis vm 
seeuiely tender unouelified allegtan^e. This 
is the true Holy Alliance, which will cause 
the sceptre to tremble in the hands of the 
despot, and the chains to foil from the. Umbe 
of the slave. 


Onb of the boldest enterprises among the 
projected improvements of the steam-engine, 
which has emerged from the condition of a 
mere experiment, is the vapour engine, as it^ 
is called, of Mr. Howard. The extent to' 
which the economy of the oombostible is 
professed to be carried by this contrivance is, 
sufficientljT startling to entitle it to iittention; 
and as trips of some length have been al* 
readv made by vessels propelled by engines 
on this principles, and a vessel is in prepa- 
ration for ' the Atlantic voyp^, we snould , 
hardly be justified in classing it among mere . 
speculations, or in passing it over without 
particular notice. 

Mr. Howard applies the fiiniace, net imr 
mediately to the water, but to a pan of qm^- 
silver. He proposes to maintain this at a 
temperetiire below its boiling point, but very; 
much above the boiling point of water. On . 
the surface of this hot quicksilver he injects ' 
the water, which is converted instantaneously ' 
into steam, containing much more heal than 
is sufficient to maintain it in thev^rous' 

This supeiheated steam is nsed te werk 
the piston ; and being subsequently 6mdensed 
by means of a jet of fresh water, the mixture 
of warm water, prodiie<id by the steam and 
the water injected, is conducted through the 
cooling pipes, and bubsequentl^ used— j^rtly 
to supply the water for evaporation, and partly 
to supply the water for injection. Thus, in 
this contrivance, as it now stands, not pn^ [ 
the boiler, but the use of sea-water is alto- 
gether dispensed with; the same distiUed 
water constantly circulating through the cylin* 
der and the condenser. It appean to have eit 
advantage over Hall's condenser, inasmuch |^ 
it preserves the method of condensing by ih» 
jection, which has, since a very early epoch m 
the hisloiy of the steam-engine, been foun4 
to be attended with considerable advantages 
over any method of condensation by cold sur* 
foce. It is rig^ht, however, to state, that the 
idea of supplying the water of injection by 
cooling the water drawn from the condenseri 
by passing it through pipes, has been pa- 
tented by Mr. Symington. 

The economy of fuel proposed to be al- 
tained by Mr. Howard's contrivance is se 
great, that, if it should prove siiccessfol, it 
must put evecy other form of marine engines 
altogether out of use. We regret that we 
have not had opportunities of immediate ob- 
servation of the experimental results of this 
engine; but they have inspired confidence 




iitto several penons competeAt to jadge of 
them, who hate not hesitated to embark eapi- 
tiU in their vealization and improvement The 
^leitioti must noW soon be dedded, as the 
steajn-vessel Coht^us, having her machinery 
constructed on this principlei is understood to 
be in a forward stale of preparation at Liver- 
pool for the Atlantic voyage. 

As the British and American Steam Navi- 
gation Company proposes to introduce the 
method of condensation by surface into the 
British Queen, we shall havA all the different 
expedients, which afford an immediate pros- 
pect of material improvement in the economy 
of fuel and the preservation of the machinery, 
■peedily in operation on the Atlantic, and the 
results of experience will afford grounds for 
judging the respective merits more conclu- 
sive than any theoretical skill can pretend to 
offer.— JlfonM/y Chronicle. 


By James Mttcduley, Btq. M.A, 

[This very interesting paper, full of the lore 

of classic gardening, graces the pages of the 

Magazine of Natural History.] 

tt is always asserted b^ modem writers 
oh gardening, that the ancients did not cul- 
tivate flowers as a source of amusement— 
In the descriptions, it is said, of all the most 
famous gardens of antiquity which have 
come down to us, we read merely of their 
fruits and their shade ; and when flowers 
are mentioned, they are always reared for 
some special puri»ose^ such as to supply 
tikeir feasts, or their votive offerings. 

Considered merely as an useful art, gar- 
dening ifiust be one of the earliest culti- 
vated ; but as a refined source of pleasure, 
it is always one of the latest. It is not till 
civilization and elegance are fur advanced 
among a people, that they can enjoy the 
poetlry or the pleasure of the artificial asso- 
ciations of nature. Hence this question is 
interesting, as illustrating the manners and 
the tastes of the times referred to. 

Negative proofs are not sufllcient to de- 
termine the noint. To show that the gar- 
dens of the Hes^perides contained nothing 
but oranges, or that of King Alcinous 
(tldyss. viu) nothing but a few fruit-trees 
and pot-herbs, does not disprove the opinion 
that others cultivated flowers as a source of 

Before speaking of the Roman flower- 
gardens, I would offer a few remarks on 
those of Greece and the east. 

From the little mutability of oriental cus- 
t6ms, their ancient gardening did not pro- 
bubly difibr much from that of modem 
times. The descriptions given by Maund- 
reU, RusseU, and other travellers, agree with 

what we read in the Scriptures of the He- 
brew gardens three thousand years ago. 

Solomon, who had so extensive a know- 
ledge of the vegetable kingdom, that he 
knew plants from the cedar of Lebanon^ to 
the moss on the wall, enumerates gardening 
among the pleasures he had tasted in his 
search after happiness : " I made me great 
works ; 1 builded me houses ; I planted me 
viileyards; I made me gardens and or- 
chards.*'— Eccles. ii. 14. 

From Xenouhon and other writers w« 
have a few notices of the Persian gardens. 
Xenophon relates that Cyrus was much de- 
voted to the pleasures of gardening; airtl 
wherever he resided, or whatever part of 
his dominions he visited, he took cafe that 
the gardens should be filled with every 
thing, both beautiful and useful, which the 
soil could produce. These were mmetimes 
only hunting-parks, or inclosed forests, but 
there Were also flower-gardens among thenl. 
Cicero (** De Seneotute") rehites ttie fol- 
lowhig anecdote of Cyrus. When Lysand^ 
the Spartan came to him with presents to 
Sardis, Cyms showed him all his treasuies 
and his gardens ^-^and when Lysander wae 
struck with the height of the trees, and th» 
arrangement and fine cultivation of ihm 
grounds, and the sweetness of the odotnrs 
which were breathed upon them from tiie 
flowers, (** snavitate odmtm yw aJ9arentur 
eflorihut,") he said, that he admired not 
only the diligence but the skill of the many 
who had contrived and laid out the garden. 
And Cyrus answered, '* Jiqui ego omnia 
itta turn dimensut ; mei sunt ordines ; mea 
descriptio; multa etHam istarum ariorttm 
tnied ntanu sunt tatae*' 

One of the earliest and best known of wlSL 
the Grecian gardens is that of King Alci- 
nous, described in the Odyssey, <' What," 
says Sir Robert Walp(de, " was that boasted 
paradise with which 

the Oods ordained 

Ta grSM Akteoos aaA his happy land?* 

Why, divested of harmonious Greek and 
bewitching poetry, it was a small orchard 
and vineyard, with some beds of herbs, and 
two fonntains that watered them, inclosed 
within a quick-set hedge !** Of course, the 
whole scene is a mere romantic creation oi 
the poet ; but, in describing it, he would be 
guided by what actually existed in nature, 
and, peniaps, took his idea of the garden 
from some particular spot with which he 
was acquainted. It is described as consist- 
ing of four acres, surrounded by a fence, 
and adjoining the gates of the palace. It 
contained a few trees for shade and for froite, 
and two fountains ; one for the palace, and 
the other for the garden. But then he thus 
ends the simple and beautiful picture of the 
place with these iines \~~** And there are 
beautiful plols of ril kmds of plhnts at thi» 



extreme boirders of tlie gMfstif flowering 
All the year rotirid.'* 

Th6 Athenians alwaye had flower-gardenrf 
attached to their country-hdttses, one' of 
which Anacharsid visited. «* After having 
crossed a court-yard, full of fowls and other 
domestic birds, We visited the stables, sheep- 
folds, and likewise the flower-gArdfen ;: in 
which we successively saw blobm ntircis*. 
duses, hyacinths, irises, violets of different 
colours, roses of various species, and all 
kinds of odoriferous plants." • 

There was at Atnens a public flower- 
market, and there were person^ whose trade 
ii was to make bouquets, and to construct 
letters with flowers symbolical of certain 
sentiments; as is stiU dene in oriental 

The gardens of JBpicurus, and the other 
I^ilosophersy were mere groves and shaded 
walks, where the disciples were wont to 
listen to the lessons of their masters : 
" Atqne inter sylvas academi quiroate venun.** 
We are not to look for ornamental gar* 
d«[iing in the early history of the Romans^ 
^ the soil of their little harti was cultivated 
merely for the sake of procuring the neoes- 
aaries of life. Rxcellenee in war and. in 
agriculture were the chief virtues as well as 
duties of the citizens ; and we find honua 
agricola and bannt cqimut used as svnotiy- 
ipotts with a good man. Some of the no- 
blest families of Rome derived their names 
6'om^ particular grains, such as the LentuH, 
Pitone*, Fabitf and many others. The 
story of Cincinnatus. being found by the 
messengers of the senate at the plough, is 
well known ; and Gurius, after tnuniphing 
over the Samnites, th^ Sabtnes, and Pyrrhus, 
apent his old age in the labours of the field. 
90 late as the Punic wars, Regulus, in the 
midst of his victories in Africa, Wrote to the 
senate, that his steward had left his service, 
and stolen his implements of agriculture; 
and begged leave of absence from the army, 
to^ see about his affairs, and prevent his fa- 
mily from starving. The senate took the 
business in hand, recovered his tools, and 
supported his wife and children till his re- 

It was not till they had come much in 
contact with the Greeks that the Romans 
would be anxious about pleasure or elegance 
in their gardens ; for it was thence they de- 
rived their taste for all the arts of peace : 
" Gracia espta. feram vietorem cepit ; et attet 
Intulifc agreaki Lakio." 

. Even in hiter Roman authors, the alln- 
sions to gardening often relate more to the 
general pleasures and occupations of a coun- 
try life, than to the special cultivation of 
flowers. But this is the richest theme in 
all ages, inasmuch as the subordinate dis- 

• For auAorlties lee ' Voyage d'Anacharse,' tome 
▼.p. SO. 

play of human art in gardetiing is eclipsed 
fl'om the eye of the poet, by the beauties of 
nature even there displayed. The scene of 
the « Sohg of Soldmon" ih foid in a garden ; 
but the finest allUMions whith it c6ntain8 are 
to the general uppearant* of nature. For 
example : ** Arise, niy love, my fair 6ne, 
itnd come away. For lo, the winter is phst, 
the rain is over, and gone : the flowers ap- 
pear on the earth ; the time of the singing 
of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle 
is heard in our land ; the fig-tree putteth 
fbrth her gr*en figs, and the vines with the 
t^d0r grapes give a good smell. ' Arise, 
my love, my fair one, and come away."^ — 
And, again : << Come, let us go* forth into 
the field ; let us ^et up early to the vine- 
yards ; let us see if the vine flourish, whe- 
ther the tender grape appear, and the 
pomegranates bnd forth : there will I give 
thee my loves.*' 

Our own poets, Vhen they paint a mo- 
dern garden, dwell iriost on its shade and 
freshness, its verdure dnd music, without 
descending to particular description. Ex- 
aitAples of this must occur to every one. — 
The garden of the Coryciail old man, de- 
scribed ih the fourth Georgic, and other si- 
milar classical scenes, are sometimes quoted, 
as proving the absence Of flowers as part of 
the ornaments of an ancient garden. But 
we must not thus judge from negative or 
detached instances : we might as well argue 
the poverty of that of Horace, merely from 
WhAt he says in his invitation to Phyllis : — 
■ " Est in horto 

Phylli, uectendiA apium eoronis : 

Eat hedem vft 

Multa« qitfi crinei xeligata fhlfet.** 

He mentions only ^hki was connected With 
his drinking invitation ; the parsley being 
supposed to ward off intoxication, and the 
ity being the sacred plant of Bacchus. 

Nor is the garden of Lucullus, which is 
gn often refert'ed to, to be regarded as a 
specimen either of the art or the taste of 
his time. We are told of its terraces and 
fish-ponds, its' statues and suhiptuous tem- 
ples, and not of the cultivation of flowers ; 
but this was alluded to. by his own contem- 
poraries. Cicero records^ that Lucullus 
was often blamed for the vast extravagance 
displayed in his Tusculan villa ; and says, 
that he used to excuse himself by pointing 
to two uMghbours, a knight and a freed- 
man, who tried to vie with him in the splen- 
dour of their gardens. 

In Latin authors, the word Hortus seems 
to have four distinct significations. First, a 
garden, analogous to the gardens of the 
Tuilleries and the Luxembourg, at Paris, 
composed chiefly of shaded walks, with sta- 
tues, water-works, and other omameiits. 
Such were the gardens of Lucullus, Cssari 
Pompey, Maecenas, and the rich Patricians, 
Who used to seek popularity by throwing 



tliMii^iitotlidpaoflr, Thm m9(mim^ 
Bifiottion if, a. litU0 nvn^ m any place lor 
the euUifatioii of eteoleiit fegetablei. Per^ 
iMipa the garden of the Coryciaa old man 
tHw only one of thete; hot they seldoot 
contained such a ? ariety a« we find there. 
In the laws of the twelf e taUeiy tortus u 
Always pnt for a (ami» or a tiUb. The third 
iprt of Aortui was devoted to the onltivation 
^f those flowersy whidi were used at festi* 
vals and eeremooiesy and for similar special, 

Jurposes, Sach were the " U/eri rotariu 
*€Uii;** and gardens of this sort surrounded 
le eity» to supply the markets. It is to 
these three species of AorH alone that mo« 
dem authors refer ; but there are manj al- 
lusions in the Classics, showing that the 
IVimans had flower-gardens for yimuxue, m 
well as utility. Such were the *^d»Ucaii 
kwH,** the «< vewmti hwrtuW* of private in- 
4ividnalS| which we read of in Tibullus, 
Ph«drus» Martialy and other authors^ who 
i^ccasionally refer to the domestic manners 
of the Roinans. If thev cnltirated their 
flowers for the purposes allnded to» a single 
(finner-partyy or a lew ^apletii, would have 
stripped bw the whole garden. 
' The citiaens of Rome used to cultivate 
nlants in the balconies of their houses* 
fHor. L £p. X. 4ec.») and to rear flowers 
fa boxes and flower-«ots, which were called 
**BorH imo^ifimmrnj* (PlinyO It is not 
likely that the rich would do this» merely to , 
procure materials for their votive offerings, . 
or to aupply the ornaments for their enter-, 
fianments, when these CQuld be easily pur- 
chased at the public markets. It shows 
that a taste for their cultivation, as ob|ects 
of a— sCwwit, did prevail, v^ich followed 
them even amidst tlie <<fumum, et opes, 
ftrepitnmque Rome" 

Tliere are, abo, small garden-gromMls at- 
tached to the hooiies in many of Uie streets, 
of Herculaneom, which^from their siie etid 
tiieir position in a great city, could not have 
been used, either wt the cultivation of the 
limtal flowers, or of esculent vegetablei, 
and probab^ contained only a few bads <^ 
flowers lor ornament. 

C|t Afllf^mr. 

tifwtim Prt9Mmg.^\tk tl04, when 
Reniy I. was ta Nofmandy, a pitlata named 
Serlo, preached so eloquently against the 
imhion of w aa ting long hair, that the no* 
Bsich and hie couitiecs were moved to tsais ; 
aad, taking advantage of the impression he 
had pBodueed, the eathosiastie prelate 
vhipfed a pair of sc is s o r s eat of hia neevea, 
mS cvepped the whole co n gre g a t ieu. — > 

Tmeking /w tiU EvUwB, in past ages, 
amtendedmimd^ performed byoursova- 
ie%n8 at their cofooatimia. In the parish 

Ngisler hooka of St Nicholas, Cde A«bey, 
is a list of penona, with tek agei, n h om 
James II. had tovrM for the cunr of the 
^evil** at his coronation I 

Tr^Memhrf, the celebaiM GeriMs 
aeheoUmaaler, of the sixteenth peatooft^ e»> 
ittg: <* Learnt «ng,mydiMr bel9,Mdtbeiii 
if yeujpo^to heaven, the M»b wtt atoiil 
you intDtheir dmir.". 

NiUmai iHsttrp.^'^So gteal is the Mfi^ 
now erinced to obtain tEs vaneua fpeciee 
of the brate crtatimi Ibr the aMtmpolitatt 
and prorindal « Zoolcgicd Garden/* thiflf 
the iiKportatioa of aaioMls has beeoma am 
eseiy*dav commercial tiansaetimL Ihiiinf 
one wecK ktely, there arrived in the Dedm^ 
a fhinoceroe, tiger, poceupioe, sloth bear» 
Indian elk, axb deer, and several liirda. 
The ibur fiiet were purchased Imp ^ tiie Surrey 
Zoological Gardens." 

TeAmuHf er TeAerctm, ilaied to bavo 
been reeenfly captured br the Aussians, ia 
^'piesent capital of Arsia. It is Mfr 
rounded with a strong mud wall, about ibur 
miles in circuit, but contains no buihKaft'of 
consequence, eicept the nyai eiiadd, or tm^ 
tifiei) paUce. Half a centmy ago, it was aA 
inconstderable place; mid it started at onci 
into the first ce«seq|uince under Aga Hnho- 
med Khan, the uncle to the ptimA BbtSk^ 
and the fint sovereign that made tfiie city a 
royal residence. It is S48 miles noitfa of 
I^han, and about half that distance Iroaa 
the seuthem shore of the Caspian Sea. 

Tke Quiada Tkiiik can og|y with peal 
dilBculty be eradicated, on account oitho ^ 
distance to which its roots penetrate. An 
instance is related of its descending roola 
having been dug out of a quarry nineteen feal 
in length ; and it has been mud to fheoi 
out borisontal roots in every direction, mm^ 
eight feet in length, in a siogla i 

Olf X^ofid^ Jiridir«.-.«Aa fine as Ion. 
don Bridge," was formerly a proverbial say<» 
iag in the city ; and many a serious, aeneU 
Me tradesman used to believe that heap of 
enormities to be one of the seven wonders of 
the world, and, next to SolosBon's temple, tho 
finest thing thrt ever art produced. 

€|e Cotrnittlon. 

Tkt iw prteH k mg Nttmiera 0/tka Min- 
■on serf etUirefy oe eifkd wHk am (hMmU 
NwrrmHve tf tke reeeni ComovAnm ^Han 
Mmsrt, tOmiinaiedwHkTwohummM^ 

149, Hbrmd, (Mor Samtrnt UwmUjt ami $M Im 

%\ft Mivvot 




SATURDAY, JULY 21, 1838. 

[PWCB ^ 

Vol. XXXII. 





In describing the splendid outdoor pageant 
of the late Coronation, we noticed, in terms 
of unqualified commendation, the equipages 
of the distinguished personages who ap- 
peared upon that august occasion, as Re- 
presentatives Extraordinary of the principal 
sovereigns of Europe. The sumptuousness 
of the carriages, the noble horses, the cost- 
liness of their trappings, and the superb der 
Goration of the liveries, were all in the best 
style of statCy and worthy of royalty itself. 
Their brilliancy called rorth the liveliest 
admiration throughout the line of the pro- 
cession ; and there ore no better judges in 
the world than our countrymen of the 
beauty of a carriage, or the excellence of 
'* cattle : '' for, in what country of the world 
are there so many well-appointed equipages 
as in England ? It should, however, be no- 
ticed, that most of these carriages were built 
for the above occasion by London coach- 
makers, the superiority of whose skill has, 
for many years, been celebrated throughout 
Europe. Indeed, the substitution of Eng- 
lish-built carriages for others of clumsy and 
graceless contour, was one of the first out- 
ward and visible signs of international im- 
provement after the peace of 1815 ; and the 
present King of the French, then Duke of 
Orleans, on his return to Paris, provided 
himself with English carriages, a stud of 
English horses, coachmen, glooms, <fec. ; 
and thereby soon set the fashion in such 
matters at Paris. Without having been 
previously apprised of this fact, well do we 
remember being struck with the splendour 
of a fbur-in-hand, spanking into the second 
court of the Palais Royal, and attracting as 
many gazers as would either of our metro- 
politan state coaches. In short, although 
the construction of covered carriages was 
not an English invention, their improvement 
has been wrought to higher perfection in 
this country, than elsewhere ; the superior 
lightness, elegance, and durability, of Eng- 
lish carriages, are acknowledged all over 
the Continent ; and several English coach- 
makers have established themselves in the 
French capital, the Parisian "Long Acre*' 
being, we believe, in the Champs Elysees. 

But the carriage of Marshal Soult, en- 
graved upon the preceding page, is of Pa- 
risian "build," as its outhne will satisfy 
any one who has once seen a native French 
carriage. On the day of the Coronation, it 
received the most marked admiration of the 
people ; we mean, over and above the inte- 
rest displayed towards its illustrious occu- 
pant. From all th0 evidence we could col- 
lect, the chaste style of the whole equipage 
was universally commended ; but more es- 
pecially the richly-chased mountings and 
other appointments of the carriage itself. 

The body is a fine cobalt, towards the per- 
fection of which colour the French chemists 
have greatly distinguished themselves. — 
This colour is relieved with gold, in chaste 
design. Upon the panels are emblazoned 
the arms of his Excellencjr, with the baton 
of a Field-Marshal, crossed, the only order 
being that of the Legion of Honour ; the 
whole upon a rich mantle. The body has 
side-lights ; and above the roof rises a silver 
cornice, elaborately chased and tastefully 
pierced; and in the centre, and at each, 
angle of the roof, is a ducal coronet, also of 
silver. It has four elegant lamp's, two front 
and two back, each being surmounted with 
a silver ducal coronet. The interior fittings 
ard of rich nankeen*. satin, relieved with 
scarlet ; the hammer-cloth is of blue broad- 
cloth, trimmed with nankeen, and boldly 
emblazoned with the arms of his Excel- 
lency. These details are slightly varied 
from our description, at page 7 of the pre- 
sent volume ; whereat will be found a fur- 
ther notice of this magnificent <* turn-out ;*' 
unquestionably the best specimen of French 
"state'' that has, within our recollection, 
been witnessed i n this cou ntry. 

To the above, it may be interesting to 
append the following brief sketch of the 
military life of Marshal Soult; the details 
of which have been, in the main, translated 
from the celebrated Biographic des Con- 

Marshal Soult, Duke of Dalmatia, was 
bom in 1769, at St Amand, in the depart- 
ment of the Tarn ; entered early into the 
army as a private soldier, and became a sub- 
altern in 1790. He was adjutant in the di- 
vision oi Lefebvre, on the Moselle, in the 
campaigns of 1794 and 1795, and was one 
of the most enthusiastic partisans of the re- 
volutionary measures at that epoch. He was 
appointed general of brigade in 1796, and 
was, subsequently, raised to the rank oif ge- 
neral of division. > As such, he served with 
the army of Italy, and was entrusterl with 
the military command of Turin. He after- 
wards made the campaign of 1799, with the 
army destined to combat the AustrO'Russian 
forces ; aud was shut up, with Massena, in 
Genoa, where he was wounded and made 
prisoner in a sortie. The battle of Marengo, 
which terminated in favour of France, gave 
him an opportunity of returning home. 

On the elevation of Buonaparte to the 
chief consulate, the proofs of courage and 
ability which Soult had shown, occasioned 
his being appointed to command a corps of 
observation, in the kingdom of Naples. In 
1803, he was named Commandant of the 
corps at St. Omer's, and afterwards Marshal 
of France, on the establishment of the impe- 
rial dignity. In 1805 he commanded at 
Boulogne, and, subsequently, one of the di- 
visions of the grand army destined to act in 



Austria. He passed the Rhiae at Spire, on 
the 26th of October, penetrated into Suabia, 
and afterwards marched on Augsburg, of 
which he took poB8e8sion> and also of Mein- 
ingen, which was surrendered to him in a 
cowardly munner by Gei^eral Spangen. At 
the battle of Austerlitz, he commanded the 
centre of the army, and contributed, by a very 
vigorous attack, to the success of that day. 
He distinguished himself, also, at the bat- 
tles of Jena and at Eylau. On the peace of 
Tilsily he was appointed to a command in 
Spain ; and, on the 10th of November, 1808, 
he attacked the army of Estremadura, put 
the Spaniards to the route, and seized on 
Burgos and Santander. He was next charged 
with the army to observe the movements of 
Sir John Moore, at Salamanca ; and he pur- 
sued the English to Corunna, where, how- 
ever, he was defeated.* M. Soult was after- 
wards sent into Portugal, where, at first,- he 
obtained some success ; but he was soon fol- 
lowed by the British army, under Sir Arthur 
Wellesley, which forced the passage of the 
Douro, and nearly made him prisoner in 
Oporto. He was compelled to make a pre- 
cipitate retreat, with the loss of his artillery 
and baggage ; and, arriving in Galicia, he 
joined Marshal Ney. Joseph Buonaparte 
having lost the battle of Talavera, Marshal 
Soidt marched, in conjunction with Ney and 
Mortier, to his succour; and on their ap- 
proach. Lord Wellington retired into Portu- 
gal. At this time, he was appointed major- 
general of the French armies in Spain ; and 
it was under his advice and direction that 
Joseph Buonaparte gained the battle of Oc- 
eana, on the 19th of November, 1809. He 
was next charged with the conquest of An- 
dalusia ; and he, in consequence, forced the 
passages of the »Sierra Morena, and naaiched 
on Seville, of which he took possession. He 
subsequently reduced Badajoz, which fortress 
he strongly garrisoned. The allies advanced 
to recover that place, and the battle of Al- 
buera followed, in which he was repulsed by 
lifarshaL (nowLor^) Beresford, with great 
loss. Marmoni, however,. having joined him,* 
the siege was raised in consequence; and 
Sou^t sei^t a part of his forces to disperse tbe 
army of Murcia. Th^ French continued to 
retain positions in the south of Spain for 
two years ; during which time, Soult levied 
large contributions, and formed immense 
magazines, till lie was at length compelled 
to retire from that quarter. After the battle 
of S»\amanca, he evacuated Andalusia ; and 
the Fteach armies, with the exception of 
that of HisifW Suche^ were concentrated at 
Bnrgpa. M* Soult was nofv; recalled, in 
or^ to be sent into Germany; he was, 
however, sQoa summoned back. The loss of 

* To the honour of Soult he it recorded, tliat, at 
Cotuana. he has erected a monunteitt to the memory 
of the brave Sir Jolm Moore. 

E 2 

tlie battle of Vittoria having exposed the 
frpntiers of France, the marshal was sent to 
Bayonne, to take the command of the rem. 
nant of the routed French corps. He spee- 
dily organized a formidable force, with which 
he twice endeavoured to deliver Pampeluna : 
the allies then advanced on the French ter- 
ritory, and he was twice repulsed — first, at 
the battle of the Adour, but particularly that 
of Orthes, on the 27th of February, 1814 ; 
his defeat in which obliged him to retire 
upon Tarbes, in order to cover Toulouse; 
which had the effect of leaving Bordeaux 
open, and brought about the events that re- 
stored the Bourbons. Soult, at this time, 
published a proclamation, in which he dis- 
covered great zeal in the cause of Napoleon. 
Arrived at Toulouse, a bloody battle ensued, 
which led to the surrender of that city to the 
allies; and he retreated towards Castel- 
naudar}\ On the re-establishment of the 
Bourbons, the king confided to Soult the 
command of the thirteenth military division, 
and the government of Brittany. In Decem- 
ber, 1814, he was made war-minister; and, 
in this capacity, he was particularly anxious 
that the king should give the congress at 
Vienna to understand, that France was pre- 
pared for war. In the council, he said to 
the king : '^ Sire, say but a word, you shall 
have 400,000 bayonets to support your pre- 
tensions ut the congress of Vienna." He 
was, however, subsequently denounced in the 
Chamber of Pbers; and the consequence 
was, that he resigned his situation, and was 
succeeded by the Duke de Feltre. On the 
return of Napoleon, Soult was raised by him 
to the peerage, and appointed to high mili- 
tary command. He fought at Fleurus and 
Waterloo ; and, on the entrance of the allies 
into the capital of France, he retired with 
the army be}ond the Loire. He subse- 
quently withdrew to the chateau of Malzieu, 
in the department of Lozere, where he was 
arrested by the national guard, and con- 
ducted as a prisoner to Mende. By order of 
the king, he was, however, set at liberty. — 
In a few days after, he was comprised in the 
ordonnance of the 24th of July. On his ba- 
nishment, he published a memoir, with the 
view of refuting the charge of treason, 
brought against him for adhering to Napo- 
leon on his retwn. In February, 1816, he re- 
tired toDusseldorf, the country of his wife. He 
was, however, included in the amnesty, and his 
military distinctions have been since restored. 
Marshal Soult has been honoured with 
the confidence of Louis Phillippe, whose 
choice of bis Excellency as his Representa- 
tive ut the recent Coronation was a most 
interesting circumstance. Marshal Soult 
has here met in friendship his old antago- 
nist, the Duke of Wellington, and nothing 
can be niore gratifying than the cordiality 
of the two heroes. 




' How sweet and solemn, all alone. 
With reverend step, from stone to stone. 
In a small village churehyard lying, 
0*er interveniuff flow'is to move 1 
And as we read the names unknown 
Of young and old, to lodgment gone. 
And Iwar, in the calm air above, 
Thne onward swiftly flying,— 
To mediUte in Christian love 
Upon the dead and dying !**— Wir^M. 

1.— 4 VILL40I CHVSCH. 

TiMi, on its reverend brow. 

Had wieatVd the ivy dark. 
But ages could not bow 

Jehovah's sacred ark ; 
MagniOcently old it stood. 
Surrounded by a stately wood. 

That fringed the snnuv hilU 
Where oft, on summer nights sublime, 
lis bells would give their tuneftil chime. 

Responsive to the rill. 
The rude but skUful architect 
Its ancient walls had strangely deck*d 
With clurracters grotesque and quaint. 
Illustrative of sage and saint ; 
Its windows were enamelled rich 

With heraldric designs. 
And sculptur'd saints m many a niche 

Seem'd starting from their shrines ; 
Its portal wide, o'er which the yew 
Its shadowv brauclies broadly threw. 
Coeval with the cliurch appear*d* 
And by a kindred hand was reared. 

How sweet, when twilight o*er the sky 

Was stealing on its dove-like wings. 
To hear the viewless breeses sigh. 

Like music fwm a wind-harp*s strings ! 
How sweet, within the gloomy shade. 
By spectral yews and larches made. 
To mark the chaniring shadow glide 
Along the sun-diars moss-grown side 1 
A sabbath calm surrounds the pile. 

And sanctifies the air; 
Because Jehovah's hoUrat smile 

Has lit its altar tliere. 

Rise proudly on thy throning hill. 

Thou sanctuary of Ood I 
And let thine ancient pathway still 

By peasants* fiset be trod. 
Thy tower shall be a beacon light. 

The eye of fidth to guide. 
And break the gloom of Sorrow's night 

On Truth's celestUd tide ; 
To thee the wanderer's heart shall torn. 

When worn with care and ^lieC 
And find* beside the mouldering am. 

The boon which gives relief. 
Rise proudly on thy native hill. 

Thou sanctuary of Him, 
Whose mighty throne b standing still 

Between the Clierubtm I 


Tbou lonely spot ! how many years 

Successively have flown. 
Since thy first mourner wept bar tears 

Upon thy dial stone I 
That stone was chisell'd by a hand 

Of which no rude memento tells, 
Consign'd with cold Oblivion's band 

To Death's sepulchral cells ; 
The dial still proclaims the hour 

Transmitted ftom the sky. 
But Death, with unrelenting power. 

Has cloe'd the sculptor's eye. 

It lies upon a sunny hill,— 

Thto place of many tombs ; 
And on the margin of its rill 

The water-plantain blooms ; 
The rill, with softer tones than words. 

When summer-eves are dim. 
Invokes the minstrelsy of birds 

To sing their sunset hymn ; 
And, gushing ftom its sources cirar. 
It whttpers music to the ear. 

This patriarchal yew has wav'd 

Five hundred yean or more. 
And many a wmtry storm has brav'd. 

And mock'd the thunder's roar; 
Its boughs have rear'd their darkling pl^ 

Amid the gloomy sky. 
When a, voice unearthly fttim the tomba. 

Sent up its startling cry. 
The old and young, beneath its shade. 

Have sat and heard the sabbeth bell 
Breathe its wild music through the gUde, 

And on the breeses swell ; 
Bnt now they slumber in the earth 

Their footsteps often press'd. 
And the turf, which givtw the violet birth, 

Enslirines their place of rest. 

Thou sweet aikd sacred s<rfitode ! 

Ttie mourner's eye may trace 
On thy mementos, lone and rude. 

The records of a race I 
Youth.— with a flu^ of ardent pride, — 

Tliat meteor of the soul. — 
And Age. with cliange and s(htow tried. 

Have wou the heavenly goaL 

The moral which the tomb beqnaaths 

A sadness with it brings. 
And mora impressive music breathes 

Than Song's impassion'd strings. 
And in this lonely solitude. 

Where Ruin haunts the n«neles!< stone. 
What vigils on the heart intrude. 

And make its shrine tlieir own I 
'Tis then the lost of early life 

In all thf ir loveliness return. 
And beam upon the clouds of strifei. 

Like roses on an urn. C 

Much having of late been gaid of " the royal 
purple robe,*' '' purpln velvet,** and '' purple 
cloth,** in detcribinfc the ceremonies of the 
Coronation, it may be of timely interest to 
glance at the early employment of the colour 
purple for purposes of regid state. 

It is well known that the purple dye ob> 
tained from certain species of shells has been 
in use from the earliest periods. Moeee, 
B.C. 149 J, makes mention of it in several 
places, and he used much wool of a purple 
colour in the woriu of the tabemade, and in 
the garments of the high priest (Eiodus, 
xxn. zzviii. 5, 6.) This the Israelites must 
have brought from Egypt with them, and, 
from the quantity in their possession, it can- 
not have been veiy scarce in that countiy. 
It was used as loyal robes by the kings of 
Midian, B.e. 1249, (Judges, viii. 26); and 
B. o. 606, the Babylonians covered their idola 
with garments of purple. (Jeremiah, x. 9 ; 
Baruch, vi. 12.^ At the same time» it was 
also the royal colour among these people ; and 
we find that Daniel, after explaining the 
writing on the wall, as a special mark of la- 



▼our, was clothed in purple. (Daniel, v. 70 
Alexander Balas, king of Syria, aent Jona- 
than Maccabeus a crown of gold, and a pur- 
nte robe, allowing him to take the title of 
Jdng*8 friend.* The band, or Cydaris, which 
formed the essential part in the old Persian 

Amonf^ the Greeks, Lycurfpt ordered the 
Lacedmnonians to clothe their soldiers with 
scarlet, (purpltf) the reason of which insti- 
tution either seems to ha?e been because this 
colour is soonest imbibed by cloth, and moet 
lasting and durable, or on account of its 

diadem, was composed of a twined substance brightness and splendour, which the lawj^ver 
of purple and white ; and anybody below the ♦•»'*"'•»»♦ -««-»..«— *« — :— *v.^ »^..». •»..;«•. 
royal di^ty presuming to wear these colours, 
unsanctioneil by the Eing, was guilty of a 
transgression of the law, deemed equal to 
high treason.f 

Although, in after times, it was almost 
exclusively known by the name of TVrian 
purple> yet it appears to have been only on 
the dechne of the great commercial ci^ of 
Tyre that it was manufactured there. It is 
mentioned by Ezekiel, (xviu 7*) b. c. 588, as 
being imported from the Isles of Elisha, 
(Peloponnesus^; and Aristotle, as late as 
B.O. 340, maaes no mention of its being 
brought from Phosnicia. In his time, the 
best and largest shells were from Sig»um and 
Lectum, on the prumontoiy of Troas, and the 
smaller and inferior from Eripus and Caria. 
When, however, Tyre had lost its commerce, 
and became an inferior place, the chief sup- 
^y of Europe was drawn from it, though we 
find it imported into Rome from Lacedssmon, 
and manu&ctures of it in various parts of 
Italy as late as a., d. 14. Durin}^ the earlier 
periods of the Roman republic, it was solely 
worn by the kings and patricians; but, in 
later times, Pliny informs us, that doth of 
this colour was so common as to be employed 
as tapestrv, and for the covering of fumi- 
ture, by all the better classes of citisens. He 
also ren^arks, that so great was its antiquity, 

thought conducive to raise the men's spirits; 
or, liuitly, because it was most proper to con- 
ceal the stains of blood. In war, a purple 
garment was frequently placed on the end of 
a spear, and used ^as a flag or signaL 

And though Jesus Christ was clothed in 
purple before his crucifixion, as a mark of 
derision, yet at this time it does not appear 
to have been either universally or necessarily 
worn by princes. Herod, when giving au- 
dience to the ambassadors from Tyre and 
Sidon, is described as being dressed iu ** royal 
apparel,'' which was not purple, but, as Jose- 
phus tells us, was wholly of silver. 

Goguet and Heeren have respectively 
brought together much interesting informa- 
tiou with regard to the purple of antiquity. 
The pre-eminence given at the present day 
to purple, as a royal colour, is undoubtedly a 
result of the ancient preference which arose 
when the relative superiority of purple to 
other colours was greater than at present. 
Among heathen nations, a persuasion was 
even entertained that in the purple dye there 
lay some peculiar virtue for appeasing the 
wrath of the gods. Purple was also the dis- 
tinguishing mark of great dignities among 
several nations. It is said, that when the 
beautiful purple of Tyre was first discovered, 
the sovereign to whom it was presented ap- 
propriated it as a royal distinction. Homer 

that the introduction of it was unknown to intimates that it was only worn by princes ; 

him ; and adds from the chronicles then ex> 
tant, that Romulus and his successors used 
it, — which was, perhaps, only the same as 
saying that the first inventiou of it could not 
be tn^ed. The Grecian tradition, but which, 
of course, was only a fable, was, that Hercu- 
les IVrius was the first discoverer of it; his 

and this limitation of its use was common 
among other nations. It seems very likely 
that, as there were several purples held in va- 
rious degrees of estimation, it was only some 
particulu shade of purple that was reserved 
for a royal or godlike distinction. 

It is important to understand that the 

dog by chance having eaten the shell-fish, word <* purple '' in ancient writings doee not 

and returned to him with his lips tinged with denote one particular colour. Pliny mentions 

the purple colour. Da Costa images that the diffisrence between some of the purples : 

tiie dyeing qualities of the periwinkle were one was faint, approaching to our scarlet, and 

known to the ancient British, and quotes the this was the least esteemed ; another was a 

authority of the Venerable Bede, who lived 
(on the sea-coast) in the early part of the 
eighth century,} 

* Maoeabeet, L SO. These retbreuoet are from 
Cabnet't Dictionary, art. Purple, where they are dis- 
tinctly understood to refer to the dye from the shell. 

t Sir Robert Ker Porter's Travels, quoted in 
H(»ne*8 Introduction to the Holy Scriptures. 

t Bede lived at Jarrow. about five mile* from tlie 
month of the river Tyne, which there divides the 
counties of Durham and Northumberland, and the 
rodu on that coast, at the present day, abound with 
tills shell : indeed, so plenl^ are thev, that it may 
almost be said, acres oC roclu are hidden from sight 
by the closteriug of the fish, intermixed with the 
Baiamui elongatus, and young of the Mjftiltu edilit ; 

very deep red, approaching to violet; and a 
third was a cokmr comparod to that of coa« 
guUted bullock's blood. The most esteemed 
Ty'ian purple seems to have been of this Ust 
OMour. We say ** the most esteemed/' be- 
cause it appears that even the Tyrian purple 
was not one particular colour, but a cUiss of 
animal dyes, as distinguished from vegetable 
— varying in shade of purple from the most 
faint to &e most intense. 

The shells which afibrd this purple dye in- 
habit all the shores of the Mediterranean, 

and the supply is tjuite sufficient tu liave served for 
an extensive manufacture of the dye. 



but the best were proAued at Tyre, the island 
of Meoiux, the coasts of Gaetulia and LaX 
eonia, and the island of Coa, in the Kgean 
Sea The real Murex, or Purple Whelk, was 
fished for and caught with small and delicate 
nets. The season for catching them was in 
the spring, when the dye was deepest and 
best. It is contained in a small white vein 
in the neck of the fish, and in its natural 
state is a thin and almost colourless liquid. 
The shell was careftilly broken off, and as the 
dye loses itg value when the fish is dead, it was 
cut out alive : the rest of the fish was useless. 

This juice is not now used in dyeing ; the 
art of preparing it is lost, apparently in con- 
sequence of as good or better dyes having 
been discovered, which can be obtained with 
nuich less trouble and expense. The PhcB- 
nicians excelled all other people in the use of 
this colouring matter, whence arose the great 
fame of the purples and scarlets of Tyre and 
Sidon; so that they were much in request 
among great people, and formed the prevailing 
iaxhion ambng the higher ranks of society. 
The hue of the Tyiian dye was of a very deep 
red, soft, and shining ; the colour of a rose, 
but approaching to black, or like a very deep 
shade of the colour now called Hake^ Of course, 
the word purplCj* as at present understood, 
conveys a wrong impression. The beauty 
and variety of the colours, it would seem, were 
more the result of art than a natural property 
of the material. The desired hue was ob- 
taine<l by differently tinted juices, the hue 
being varied by the order of application ; the 
mixing and preparation being a process of 
much skill. The Phamicians are also under- 
stood to have possessed the art of throwing 
a peculiar lustre into their colours, by making 
other tints play over it, producing what is 
called ^* shot colour." This, perhaps, was 
the greatest secret of their art. The Phoeni- 
cian dyeing seems to have been at all times 
performed in the wool ; the purple dye being 
applied to all sorts of stufis, linen, cotton, 
and, in later times, silk. 

Of the precise period at which the English 
sovereigns adopted purple as their state co- 
lour, we have no record at hand. The ear- 
liest monumental effigy of an English sove- 
reign is that of Henry II., at Fontevraud, 
(see Mirror, vol. xxix. p. 290 ;) in which the 
mantle is of a deep, ceddish chocolate, and 
the dalmaticH, or long tuuic, is crimson, — 
The mantle of Richard J., who reposes ia 
the same tomb with Henry, is painted blue, 
with an ornamental gold border ; his dalma- 
tic, or super-tunic, being red. John, at 
Worcester, wore a crimson robe. From these 
effigies, and from the illuminated MSS. of 
the period, we learn, also, that the coro- 

• Scarlet was indifferently used for purple by the 
early writers, aud included " all the gradations of 
colours formed by a mixture of blue and red, from 
indigo to crimson." — Vide Illustrations of Northern 
Antiquities, 4to. Edinb. 18U. p. 36. 

nation robes of Henry II.' and Richard I. 
were composed, of two tunics, (the upper 
with loose sleeve^, called a dalmaticn,) of 
nearly equal letigths, and girded round the 
waist by a rich belt, over which was worn 
the mantle, splendidly embroidered, the 
crown, the sword, the jewelled gloves, boots 
and spurs, without rowels. The same dress 
was worn also on state occasions. 

<< We first hear of velvet in England at the 
coronation of Henry III. and his queen ; 
when the citizens who attended the ceremony 
wore robes worked with gold, over vestments 
df silk. To the furs of sables, foxes, (fee, 
we now find added those of ermines, mar- 
tens, and squirrels, the vair and the mine- 
vair, or miniver. Two mantles, lined with 
ermine, are ordered by Henry for his queen 
and himself; and Matthew Paris speaks of 
the doubled or lined garments fi>r winter, 
belonging to the king and his courtiers." f 

According to the writer just quoted, Ed« 
ward I. ** never wore his crown after the day 
of his coronation, and preferred, to the royal 
garments of purple^ the dress of a common 
citizen." On opening his tomb in West- 
minster Abbey, in 177<N his corpse was dis- 
covered arrayed in a dalmatica, or tnnic of 
red silk damask, and a mantle of crimk>n 

The original vestmehts of the Order of the 
Glarter were a mantle, tunic, and capuchon, 
all of blue woollen cloth ; and the garter was 
of blue and gold, as at present. The surcoat 
and chaperon were altered by Heniy VI. to 
white cloth, which Edward IV. altered to 
purple velvet. *'It is probable," says Mr. 
Planch^, *' that the velvet mantle introduced 
by Henry VI. remained blue, as murrey and 
blue were! the colours of the house of York ; 
and similar reasons may have suggested the 
adoption of colours to the various sovereigns : 
blue and white being the Lancastrian colours, 
and bhie and scarlet those of the kingdom.'^ 

Of the coronation robes of Richard HI., 
we have a detailed account in a book, autho- 
rized by an indenture of that king's ward- 
rober ; wherein we find, that the day before 
his coronation, Richard III. was to ride from 
the Tower to Westminster in a doublet and 
stomacher of blue cloth of gold. " wrought 
with nettes and pyne apples ;" a long gown 
of purple velvet, furred with ermine, and a 
pair of short gilt spurs. On the day of the 
coronation, he appears to have worn two 
domplete sets of robes ; one of crimson vel- 
vet, embroidefed with gold, and furred with 
miniver pure; the other of purple velvet, 
furred with ermine. 

In the following reign, (Henry VII.,) the 
whole dress of the O^er of the Garler was 
of purple wlvet. 

With these interesting notes, gathered 
chiefly from Mr. Plauch6's popular volume, 

t Flanche's History of British Cost ame, p. 95. 



W^ conclude our uotice of the orif^in and re- 
gal appropriation of the eolovtt purple, which 
tp this day maintains its pre-eminence in the 
riblion of the Order of the Oarteri and the 
majestically-flowing robe ; and the cap of the 
superb crown, which, it is hoped, may long 
grace the royal brow. 

Spirit of l9iielCDbft$. 


{Selected fnm the Bailwajf Magaxime.') 

New Carburet of Hydrogen. — A new car- 
buret of hydrogen has been extracted In 
France from the oil of potatoes. It consists 
Gff 86 of carbon and 14 of hydrogeo> and the 
density of its vapour is 5*06. 

Animal Temperature,— By a series of ex- 
periments continued daily, except in rotigh 
weather, and on a few other occasions, from ^ 
April, 1836, to Nov. 6, 1837, on ten men of 
La Bonit^, during her voyage round the 
world, it appears that the heat of the hu- 
man body rises or fulls with like changes in 
the external atmosphere. It sinks slowly 
in passing from a hot to a cold clime ; it 
rises more rapidly in the contrary passage ; 
but it is more marked in some individuals 
than in others. The same men exhibited, 
however, only a single degree of Cent, dif- 
ference under a change of 40° of external 
temperature ; that is, at Cape Horn, when 
the temperature was 0® Cent., and in the 
Ganges, near Calcutta, where the air was 
40° Cent. 

, Phosphorescence of the Sea. -^ By the 
researches made in the French ship La 
Bonit^, in her recent voyage round the 
world, it appears that the phosphorescence 
df the sea is not inherent in the water, but 
essentially due to the presence of organized 
matter, and is owing to animals of different 
Classes. According to M. Robart, this pro- 
perty of phosphorescence in the northern 
seas is occasioned by animal matter held in 
solution, and not by the presence of ani- 

Submarine Volcano. — It appears from a 
collection of many facts by M. Daussy, that 
a submarine volcano exists in latitude 0° 2(y 
S., and longitude 22° west of Paris. Nu- 
merous vessels passing about this point 
have experienced shocks as if they had 
struck on a coral rock, or ^ sand-bank ; noises 
have been heard under water; the jUiips 
have been agitated ; and cinders have been 
found floating about. 

Improvement in Buildings. — A commis- 
sion has been issued by the Acad^mie des 
Sciences, at the instance of MM. Montgol- 
iier and Dubouchat, to examine a new sys- 
tem of construction which they have in- 
vented, for rendering edifices lighter without 
abstracting' from their solidity, and, at the 
same time, diminishing the chances of Are. 

GahfanicBattertf, — A Urge company lately 
met at the Adelaide Gallery to wito^ss some 
experiments with a powerful galvanic battery 
of 100 pair of double plates. The experiments, 
which consisted in the fusion of various me- 
tals, the decomposition of water, ^c, were 
very brilliant, and proved the high powers of 
the machine ; 3 cubic inches of water were 
decomposed in 35 seconds, 4 in 50| 5 in 65, 6 
in !H), 7 io J 05, and 8 in 120. 


By M$ SoM, RobeH Jsaae WUberfitrce, if. A,» ami 

Samuel WHberforce, UJL 
[Thb materials of this work are the Diariet 
of its amiable subject; hit private correa- 
pondence ; MS. memoranda, dictated by him 
late in life ; and recollections of hit conver- 
sation. With these the biographecs have 
produced five volumet, numbering upwaxdt 
of 2,000 pages, and they promise more. 
They have given to the present work an 
interest d la Bosivell; and, Mr. Wilberforce 
not having been so grave and ttarched a 
person in society at many persona have 
tupposed, there are several details in these 
volumes which, at least, iiossess novelty for 
the general reader. At this Life was not 
published at the time of the Birthplace of 
Mr. Wilberforce being illustrated in the 
Mirror, (see vol. xxx. p. 200,) we were 
unable to profit by its information respect- 
ing his early years, which we now quote.J 

At School, 
Of the early years of William Wilberforce 
little is recora^. His frame from infancy 
was feeble, his stature small, his eyes weak, 
. . a failing which, with many rich mental 
endowments, he inherited from his mother. 
It was one amongst the many expressions of 
his gratitude in after-life, ** that I was not 
born in less civilized times, when it would 
have been thought impossible to rear so deli- 
cate a child." But with these bodily infir- 
mities were united a vigorous mind, and a 
temper eminently affectionate. An unusual 
thoughtfulness for others marked his young- 
est childhood : '' I shall never forget," says a 
frequent guest at his mother's, ** how he 
would steal into my sick room, taking off his 
shoes lest he should disturb me, and with an 
anxious face looking through my curtains to 
learn if I was better." At seven years old 
he was sent to the grammar-school of Hull, 
of which Joseph Milner was soon afterwards 
master. '^ Even then his elocution was so 
remarkable," says the younger Milner,* at 
that time his brother's assistant, ''that we 
used to set him upon a table, and make him 
read aloud, as an example to the other boys." 

* Isaac Milner, aftezirardt Dean of Carlisle. 


Thus he spent two yeMi, going daily from 
his fathir^s house to school with his << satchel 

00 his iJioukler,'' and occasionally yisiting 
his grandfather, at Ferriby, a pleasant fillage, 
sf Ten miles distant, on the Humber. The 
death of his lather, in the summer of 1768, 
transferred him tP the care of his uncle, 
William Wilberforce; and, after a week's 
residi^nce at Nottingham,* he was sent to 
live with him at Wimbledon, and in St 
James's Place. Such was then the standard 
measure of private education, that the school 
at which he was soon afterwards placed was 
of the meanoHt character. ** Mr. Chalmers, 
the master, himself a Scotchman, had an 
Qsher of the same nation, whose red beard— 
for he scarcely shaved once a month— I shall 
never forp^et. They taught writing, French, 
arithmetic, and Latin . . with Greek we did 
not much meddle. It was freouented chiefly 
by the sons ^of merchants, and they taught, 
therefore, every thing and nothing. Here I 
continued some time as a parlour boatder : 

1 was sent at first amongst the lodgers, and 
I can remember even now the nauseous food 
with which we were supplied* and which I 
could not eat without sickness.''t 

He remained two years at this school, 
spending his holiday at his uncle's house, 
with occasional visits to Nottingham and 
Hun. He is described at this time as ** a 
fine sharp lad," whose activity and spirit 
made up in boyish sports for some deficiency 
of strength. One incident of these years 
deaerves special notice, from its assisting, as 
he thought, to form what was undoubtedly 
a striking feature in his later character. He 
received from the late John Thornton, the 
brother of his aunt, with whom he was tra- 
velling, a present, much exceeding the usual 
amount of a boy's possessions, intended to 
enforce the precept with which it was accom- 
f>anied, that some should be given to the 

Early Impressions. 

When he quitted Hull, no great pains had 
beeu taken to form his religious principles. 
H'lM mother, indeed, was a woman of real ex- 
ctllc'nce, as well as of great and highly culti- 
vated talents, but not posiieiised at this time 
of those views of the spiritual nature of reli- 
gion, which she adopted in later life : ^ She 
was what I should call an Archbishop Til- 
lotson Christian." t But in his uncle's 
houjie he was subjected to a new and power- 
ful influence. His aunt was a great admirer 
of Whitfield's preaching, and kept up a 
friendly connexion with the «*arly methodists. 
The lively afiections of his heart> warmed by 
the kindness of his friends, readily assumed 

* At the house of A. Smith, Esq., fother to the 
present Lord Carriugtoa, who had married his mo- 
ther's Mster. 

i Conversational Memoranda. 

t Ibid. I • 

their tone. A atnuigei* htat noticed the 
rare and pleasing character of piety which 
marked his twelfth year ; and there can be 
little doubt that the acquaintance with' 
holy Scripture, and the h^its of devotien 
which he then acquired, fostered that bap- 
tisnoal seed which, though long dormant, was 
destined to produce at last a golden harvest. 

He has himself recorded his deliberate 
judgment of this early promise. ** Under 
these influences my mind was interested by 
religious suljects. How €sr these impres- 
sions were genuine I can hardly determine, 
but at least I may venture to sajr that I was 
sincere. There are letters of mine, written 
at that period, still in existence, which accord 
much with my present sentiments-f" • • • 
'* A packet from Hull, encbsing letters of 
mine from Pocklington school, rather too 
much in the style of the religious letters of 
that da^, and (astonishing !) addng my leave 
to pubush^ them. As 1 cannot doubt my 
having exprensed the sentiments and feehngi 
of my heart, I am sensibly impressed with a 
sense of the dreadful e£&cts of the efforts 
afterwards used but too successfully to wean 
me from all religion, and to cherish the love 
of pleasure and the love of glory in the open- 
ing bud of youth."! 

** How eventful a life," he says, in looking 
back to this period in his thirty*eighth year, 
'< has mine been, and how visibly I can trace, 
the hand of God leading me by ways which 
1 knew not! I think I have never before 
remarked, that my mother's taking me fioai 
my uncle's when about twelve or thirteen, 
and then completely a methodise has pro* 
bably been the means of my being connected 
with political men, and becoming useful in 
life. If I had stayed with my uncle, I should 
probably have been a bigoted, despised me- 
thod ist ; yet to come to what I am, through 
so many years of folly as those which elapsed 
between my last year at school and 178^, it 
wonderful. Oh the depths of the counsels 
of GK>d ! what cause have I for gratitude and 
humiliation !"§ 

The symptoms of his changing character 
were perceived with great alarm at Hull, and 
it was at once determined that his mother 
should repair to London, and remove him 
from the dangerous influence.|| He returned 
with her to Yorkshire, quitting his unde'a 
family with deep regret. His presence had 
kindled their parental feeling.", and he had 

* Private Journal of J. Russel, Esq., to whom, at 
tliis time, he sat for his picture, and of wliom he sava 
afterwards, " Mr. Russel painted my picture for W. 
Hey. He paiuted me above tliirty years before. A. 
reli^us man; very liigh church indeed." Diary, 
July 31. 18Q1. 

-f- MS. Memonnda. 

i Diary, Jan. I. 1801. 
Joiunal April U. 1797. 
His auut expressed o(»enly her sorrow that he 
should be rembved from the opportunities of a reli- 
g'ons life. " You sliould not fear," replied hifrmo. 



soon retunitid tliMi the affsetioii of a Mn. 
« I d^ply felt the \wimg, for I loted them 
M pfthsntii: indeed, I was ahnoit heait- 
biokeD at the Heparatum.'* <'I can never 
iori^et you,'* he wrote to hit uncle, ** as long 
as I live." 

At twelve years old he returned to his mo- 
ther's houM, where it became the object of 
his friends, by the seductions of Rsiety and 
self-indulgence, to charm away that serious 
spirit which had taken posvession of his 
youthful bosom — 

" Et tanctoA rettiiiguera Initibin ignea.** 
The habits of society in Hull assisted their 
design. ** It was then as gay a place as 
eould be found out of London. The theatre, 
balls, great supiiers, and. card-parties, were 
the delight of the principal families in the 
town. The usual dinner hour was two 
o'clock, and at six they met at sumptuous 
suppers. This mode of life was at first dis- 
tressing to me, but by degrees I acquired a 
ndish for it, and became as thoughtless as 
the rest. As grandson to one of the principal 
inhabitantit, I was every where invited and 
caressed : my voice and love of music made 
me still more acceptable. The religious 
impressions which I had |(ained at Wimble- 
don continued for a considerable time after 
m]^ letum to Hull, but my friends spared no 
ptkoM to stifle them. I might almost say, 
tiiat no pious pacent ever laboured more to 
impress a beloved child with sentiments of 
piety, than they did to give me a taste for 
the world and its diversions."* The strength 
of principle they had to overcome was indeed 
remarkable. When first taken to a play, it 
was almost, he says, by force. At length, 
however, they succeeded; and the allure- 
ments of worldly pleasure led his youth nway 
from all serious thought. At home there 
was uothing but gaiety and amusement ; at 
school there was little dUifi;ence or restraint. 
He was placed, soon after his return to Hull, 
with the Rev. K. Basket^ master of the en- 
dowed grammar>8chool of Pocklington, and 
formerly Fellow of St John's College, Gam- 
bridge ; a man of easy and polished manners, 
and an elegant, though not profoimd scholar. 
Here he was treated with unusual liberality ; 
but, especially during the latter part of bit 
stay, he led a life of idlene^ and pleasuni. 
His talents for general society, with his rarv 
skill in singing, rendered him every where an 
acceptable guest, and his time was wasted in 
a round of visits to the neighbouring gentry. 
Already, however, he gave proofs of an active 
mind, and one remarluible anticipation of his 
jfoture course is yet remembered. " His abo- 

4her, with a caustic allttskm to ber peculiar tenets; 
** if it be a work of grace, yon know it cannot &iL** 
«* Billy/* said hit grandfiitlier, ** sImOI travel with 
HUoer as noon as be i« of age ; but if Billy turns 
nethodist, be shall nut have a sixpence of mine.** 
«^.]iS. Memorsnda. 

miuation of the slave trade,'* writes a nirviv-. 
ing school<ellow,t " be evinced when he was 
not mora than fourteen years of age... Ha 
boarded in the nuurter's bouse, where the 
boya were kept within bounds. I lived ia 
the village. One day he gave me a letter t» 
put into the post-offii»i, addressed to the 
editor of the York paper, which he tokl me 
was in condemnation of the odious traffic in 
human flesh.'' He cultivated also a taste 
for literature. "* He greatly excelled all the 
other boys in his compositions, though he 
seldom began them till the eleventh hpur.**. 
For his osm amusement he committed Eng- 
lish voetry to memory, { and he went up to 
the University ** a very fair soMar." 

M CoUege, 
With the t^-indulgent habits formed by 
sudi a life, he entered St. John's CoUege, 
Cambridge, Oct. 1776, at the age of seven- 
teen years. And here he was at once ex- 
posed to new temptations. Left, by the 
death of his grandfather and uncle, the 
master of an independent fortune, under hit 
mother's sole guardianship, ^ I waf intn^ 
duoed," says he, *' on the very first night off 
my arrival, to as licentious a set of men as 
can well be oonceised. lliey drank hard, 
and their conversation was even w<^rte than 
their lives. I lived amongst them for some 
time, though I never reUsl^ their society, . . 
often, indeed, I was horro^8truck at their 
conduct, . . and after the first year I shook 
off in great measure my connexion with 
them." For the last two yean he spent at 
Cambridge he was the centre of a higher 
circle. Amiable, animated, and hospitable, 
he was a universal fovourite. *' There was 
no one," says the Rev. T. Gisbome, " at aU 
like him for powers of entertainment. Al- 
ways fond of repartee and discussion, he 
seemed entirely free from conceit and vanity." 
He had already commenced the system of 
frank and simple hospitality, which marked 
his X^ndon life. <* There was always a 
great Yorkshire pie in his rooms, and all 
were welcome to partake of it. My rooms 
and his were back to back ; and often, when I 
was raking out my fire at ten o'clock, I heard 
his melodious voice calling aloud to me to 
come and sit with him before I went to bed. 
It was a dangerous thing to do, for his amus- 
ing conversation was sure to keep me up so 
late, that I was behind-hand the next morn- 
ing.'' He lived much at this time amongst 
the Fellows of the college. <' But those," 
he says, ** with whom 1 was intimate, did 

+ Rev. T.T Wabnsley. D.D. 

i Southey remarlcs of '* Beattie's Minstrel*'— Life 
ci Cowper. vol. ii> p. 180—" No poem has ever given 
more delight to minds of a certain class, and in a 
certain stage of their progress, that class a high one, 
and that slagejierhaps the most delightfhl in their 
pilgrimage.**— The ** Minstrel** was at this tbne his 
especial ttvourite, and was learned by heart duriug 
his m<«ning wiJIcb. 



not act towards me the part of Christians, or 
even ol hontsst men. Their object seemed to 
be, to make and keep me idle. If ever I 
appeared shidioiis, Ihey would say to me, 
' Why in the world should A man of yonr 
fortune trouble himself with fagging P' I 
-Was a good classic, add acquitted myself 
Well in the college examinations; but ma- 
thematics, which my mind greatly needed, 
I alinost entirely neglected, and was told 
that I was too , clever to require them. 
Whilst my companions were reading hard 
and attending lectures, card parties and idle 
amusements consumed my time. The tutors 
would often say within my hearing, that 
' they were mere saps, but that I did all by 
talent.' This was poison to a mind con- 
stituted like mine." This life of idleness at 
college was only exchanged in vacation time 
for the ordinary gaieties of Hull, now in- 
creased by the presence of the militia, or for 
journeys in search of pleasure with hit 
mother and sister. It was surely of God's 
especial goodness that in such a course he 
was preserved from profligate excess. For, 
though he could say in after-life, that upon 
the habits thus formed by evil influence 
and unbounded license '* he could not look 
back without unfeigned remorse," yet he had 
rather to deplore neglected opportunities of 
moral and intellectual profit, than vicious 
practice or abandoned principles.* 

** 1 certainly did not then think and act as 
I do now,'* he declared long afterwards; 
" but I was so for from what the world calls 
licentious, that I was rather compUmented 
on being better than young men in gene- 

Diligently did he strive in after-years to 
supply the omissions of his youth ; but to 
the end of hfe he ceased not to deplore a 
certain want of mental regularity, which he 
traced to the neglect of eariy discipline ; 
and he subsequently remonstrated with the 
tutor to whose charge he had been confided, 
on the guilt of sofi'ering those, ot whom he 
was in some sort the guardian, to inflict 
upon themselves so irreparable an injury. 
That there was even in this time of thought- 
lessness a hidden vein of deeper feeling was 
shown by his refusing, when unexpectedly 
required, to declare his assent to the Articles 
of the Church, though the refusal cost him 
for a time the convenience of an academical 
degree. Further inquiry removed his hesi- 
tation, but he would not at mature age, 
when his education was completed, declare 
his concurrence in religious dogmas whidi 
he had not examined. f 

• Lord Clarendon, liis friend at^coUege, and throu|^li 
life, thus describes his conduct :— " He had never, in 
the smallest deKree* ^ dissolute character, however 
short his early liaJbite might be of that constant piety 
and strictness, which wa9 soon perfected in his happy 

fA.B. 1781 : A. M. 1788. Graduati^Ctntab.. 


WORLD, IN 1835-6-7, 
By W, 8, fF. Ruschenberger, M.D. 
[The second volume opens with the follow- 
ing sketch of the capital of Siam : — ] 


Is built upon the river Meinan, at a point 
where it is about half a mile wide, and 
perhaps twenty miles in a direct line from the 
sea. It extends about two miles and a half 
u|^ and down the river, and from a mile to a 
mile and a half on each side of it. Bankok 
proper is on the right or western bank, 
while that on the left, from the pidace being 
situated there, is named Sia-Yut'hia, but to 
the eye it appears all one town. It is irre- 
gular in its plan, and is every where inter- 
sected by canals. The streets are dirty and 
narrow ; the paved walk in the middle bemg 
scarcely wide enough for two persons to 
walk abreast. The reason for this, accord- 
ing to the Siamese, is, that there are no two 
of the same rank in the kingdom, and eti- 

2uette does not permit individuals of different 
egrees to walk side by side ! Many of th^ 
houses are extensive, but the greater portion 
of them are miserable bamboo huts, without 
any appearance of comfort. Trees are every 
where numerous, and the frequent " Wats" or 
Boudhist temples, with their gilt and glazed- 
tiled roofs and spires, sparkling in the sun, 
give to the city a picturesque appearance, 
and an air of wealth and magnificence. 

Each side of the river is lined with houses, 
every one a shop, built on rafts of bamboo, 
moored or staked to the banks. The fronts 
are open like verandas, wherein various goods 
are exposed for sale. A row of Chinese 
junks, from two to six hundred tons each, 
extend for more than two miles, at anchor 
in the middle of the stream, where they 
often remain for months, retailing their car- 
goes ; and though streets, canals, and river, 
are crowded with people and boats, there is 
neither the bustle nor buzz of the multitude 
which would be found in an equally dense 
population in any Christian city. From day. 
light until dark the river presents an ani- 
mated scene. The gondolas of this Eastern 
Venice, called sampans, are of every variety 
of size, from the mere nutshell to that 
moved by half a dozen paddles ; and there 
are some of large dimensions, permanently 
occupied by whole families, along the banks 
of the canals. 

[To this we add a few further extracts :] 

Amphibious Child, 

Not long ago, Bankok presented the 
lingular phenomenon of an amphrbions 
infant, that forsook the mother'b breast, 
and betook itself to the wateir on all occa- 
sions. Luck-loi-nam, literally the child of 
the waterft, swam when she was hat one year 



oid; and in 1833, when she hitd attained 
three yean of age, was frequently seen 
swimmiDg in the river. Her motions were 
not like those of other swimmers; she 
floated without any apparent exertion, turn- 
ing round and round. When not in the 
water she was cross and discontented, and 
when taken out cried and strove to return ; 
if indulged, she tumbled and rolled about, 
seemingly with unalloyed pleasure. Luck* 
loi-nam, though well formed, could neither 
walk nor speak, but uttered a gurglings 
choking sound, in the throat. Her vision 
was imperfect, and up to the time men- 
tioned, she had never eaten any thine^ but 
her mother*s milk. She usually applied to 
the breast, on being taken out of the river, 
by her own consent. The mother of the 
child of the waters was a fine-looking wo- 
man, and had given birth to four children ; 
two males and two females. The two bro- 
thers are dead, and the sister, eight or nine 
years of age, was always seen swimming in 
company, to protect the child of the waters 
against accidents, and give her directions, 
that she might not ^et too near the boats, 
or the banks of the river. She has not been 
lately seen, and is supposed to be dead. 

Gaming in Siam* 
The tales on taverns, or> more strictly 
ftpeaking, tippltng-shops, and on gambling 
establishments, are farmed t-o licensed indi* 
viduals, without whose permission no one can 
sell c<pirituous liquors, or open a gambling- 
house, without incurriBg a heavy penalty. 
Individuals are not permitted to play in pri- 
vate, not even beneath their own roi>ftree ; 
but, in order to gratify this passion, must re- 
pair to some one of the many licensed 
estaUishments, except at certain periods, 
when the law is suspended. A general per- 
mission to gamble w granted three times a 
year ; three days at the commencemeet of 
the Chinese new year, three days at the 
commencement of the Siamese new year, 
and three days at another season. During 
these periods, all classes may be seen, assi- 
duously waiting upon dame Fortune's smiles 
or frowns, read in the turning of cards or 
throwing of the dice. Im these privileged 
times wealth often changes hands ; beggars 
become ridi, and the affluent are reduced to 
penury. In these periods, too, a taste fbr 
play, under the infinence of an almost uni- 
versal example, becomes irresistible, and 
when the law again becomes operative, those 
who have been unlucky resort to licensed 
tables to repair their shattered fortunes, and 
those who nave been fortunate, in order to 
increase their, gains. The honourable and 
productive avocations of society are for- 
saken, or much neglected ; wealth is squan- 
dered ; intemperance and frequent quarrels 
enaus ; and often, under the weight of over- 
whelming despair, t^e gambler, as in other 

countries, ends hit not yet mature exist- 
ence by suicide. 

A species of lottery has been introduced 
by the Chinese^ which has attracted modi 
attention, and is much in accordance with 
the tastes of the people. An indefinite num- 
ber of tickets are sold, upon which is writ- 
ten the name of some one of thirty-six titled 
cards, which the purchaser may designate. 
Once a week one card is turned up, and 
those whose ticket bears the title win, and 
receive thirty for one ; the purchaser being 
at liberty to pay any sum he pleases for the 

ji Strange Creature, 

Among the strange animals belonging to 
Siam, there i.< one described under the name 
of Khon Paa, which belongs to the known ge- 
nus of natural history. This animal has been 
seen by the Prince Momfanoi, and hundreds 
of others, yet we must confess that we are in- 
clined to doubt the accuracy of description. 
The Khon Paa resembles man ; it is ^ve 
feet high, walks erect, has no knee-joints, 
and runs faster than a horse. Should he 
accidentally fall, he is forced to crawl to a 
tree, or something else, by which he again 
raises himself on his feet. His skin is as 
transparent ns a China horn lantern ; his en- 
trails are distinctly seen through it, and his 
abdomen shines like a looking-glass — credit 
fuivult, non ego. Under the superstitious 
notion that the presence of the animal in 
Bankok was unlucky, his owners were bam- 
booed, and all their property confiscated by 
the king for bringing him there. This treat- 
ment caused so much terror, that no one ha» 
since ventured to bring a specimen of the 
beast from his n^ive lurking-place. 

Royal Elephants at Siam, 
The small elephant is the beauty of her 
race. She has a soft white skin, a beauti- 
ful chestnut-coloured eye, and a most com- 
plaisant manner of disposing of sugar-cane 
and bananas from the hand of the stranger. 
The other white elephant is a very much 
larger animal ; but the skin is of a yellowish 
hue. Both are supposed to be animated 
by the transmigrated souls of Siamese mo- 

The spotted elephants are all large. With 
tjie exception of the ears and shoulders, 
which are speckled rather than spotted, 
their colour is dark and uniform. The fore- 
head of each animal is painted black, the 
outline of which is white, and traces the 
form of a headcloth.. 

A Siamese Temple, 
The walls were ingeniously inlaid with 
gems, and the roof and cornices were richly 
gilt and enamelled. We ascended a half- 
dozen steps upon the floor of a magnificent 
portico. The door of ebony, inlaid with 



ivory, uiood open ; but a Rplendkl screen hid 
the interior of the sanetanry. We entered* 
and were not less dassledwith the view be- 
fore us, than we had been 1^ that of the 
outside walls. The ceiling was lofty, and 
curiously carred. A large cut-glass chan- 
delier hung from its centre, and many Chi- 
nese paintings and lamps were suspended 
around the walls. A subdued light disclosed 
the great altar of Boudha, not far from the 
middle of the temple. Its whole structure 
is of a pyramidal form, and is about thirty 
feet high. Two or three wax- tapers were 
burning at its base, and there was a rug 
spread before them on the floor. A lurge 
lotus-plant, at least Bve feet high, of virgin 
ffold, stood upon the left. Numerous small 
figures of the god surrounded the richly- 
oinrved altar, which was surmounted by a 
figure of two feet high, said to be cut 
out of a single emerald. This idol has 
two brilliants, flashing light Uirough Uie 
temple, in place of eyes, which cost in Bra- 
zil 20,000 dollars. The value of the whole 
god is inestimable. I doubted its genuine- 
ness, but Prince Momfanoi assured me he 
was positive that it was an emerald, and not 
a beryl, as I suggested. 

Tea-drinking in Siam. 
Tea was served in earthen pots, and 
drank from porcelain cups without saucers. 
A tea-pot and cup were placed before each 
person present, on a salver of pure gold, set 
with precious stones. Water-basins and 
cups, chunam-box, and spittoons of fine 
gold, were borne on salvers of the same 
roetaL Fruit and confectionary were pre* 
sented on salvers six feet in circumference, 
with pedestals two feet high, of richly em- 
bossed silver. Silver spoons and forks were 
on the several dishes, from which the com- 
pany were expected to help themtelves, 
without using a separate plate. 

Odd Etiquette, 
At the Siamese court, when the American 
Embassy passed the screen, they removed 
their hats, and, as they advanced to the 
open alley above-mentioned, made three 
bows, according to previous agreement At 
the lowest end of this alley, at a great dis- 
tance from tiie throne, they sat down upon 
t^e carpet, carefully turning their feet be- 
hind, that his Magnificent Majesty might 
not be shocked by the sight of those lowly, 
booted members ; for they did not consent, 
like the Anglo-Benpl mission under Mr. 
Bumey, to leave their shoes outside, and ap. 
pear barefoot, at the risk of finding, as he 
did, that they had been stolen. Preriously 
to his audience with the King in 1833, when 
negotiating the Treaty which was now being 
concluded, Mr. Roberts positively refused to 
take ofl his shoes on entering the presence, 
except on the condition that he should keep 

on his hat. After a great deal of discussion, 
it was no longer insisted on that he should 
appear barefooted, and he was the first 
foreigner who, with his shoes on, saw his 
Majesty of Siam. 


[This month's No. (IV.^ is, indeed, capi- 
tal, and makes up for the comparative tame- 
ness of its predecessor. As we do not follow 
the narrative of -the work, our plan is to 
detach sketches and artificial bite, with which 
Mr. Dickens's writing generally abounds. 
Thus, in the Number before us, we have a 
fracas of Nicholas with Si^ueers, the York- 
shire schoolmaster, graphically told. And, 
in the best style of this veiy original observer 
of ** common people,'' and common life, are 
the following sketches, perhaps eqnal to any 
thing that Bos has hitherto produced in this 

London Lodgings, 
' In that quarter of London in which Golden 
Square is situated, there is a by-gone, faded» 
tumble>dowu street, with two irregular rows 
of tall, meagre houses, which seem to have 
stared each other out of countenance years 
ago. The very chimneys appear to have 
grown dismal and melancholy, from having 
had nothing better to look at than the chim- 
neys over the way. Their tops are battered 
and broken, and blackened with smoke ; and 
here and there some taller stack than the 
rest, inclining heavily to one side, and top- 
pling over the roof, seems to meditate taking 
revenge for half a century's neglect, by 
crushing the inhabitants of the garrets 

The fowls who peck about the kennels, 
jerking their bodies hither and thither with a 
gait which none but town-fowls are ever seen 
to adopt, and which way country cock or hen 
would be puzzled to understand, are perfectly 
in keeping with the craiy habitations m 
their owners. Dingy, ill-plumed, drowsy 
flutterers, sent, like many of the nei|^bouring 
children, to get a liveuhood in the streets, 
they hop from stone to stone in forbm search 
of some hidden eatable in the mud, and can 
scarcely raise a crow among them. The 
only one with any thing approaching to a 
voice, is an aged bantam at the baker*s, and 
even he is hoarse in consequence of bad living 
in his last place. 

To judge from the size of the houses, they 
have been at one time tenanted by persons 
of better condition than their present occu- 
pants ; but they are now let off by the week 
in floors or rooms, and every door lias almost 
as many plates or belUhandles as there are 
apartments within. The windows are for 
the same reason sufficiently diversified in 
appearance, being ornamented with every 



yariety of common blind and cmiain thai can 
easily be imagined ; while every doorway ie 
blocked np and rendered nearly impamable 
by a motley collection of children and porter 
pots of all siiesy from the baby in arms and 
the half-pint pot, to the full-grown girl and 
half-gallon can. 

In the parlour of one of these houses, 
which was perhaps a thought dirtier than 
any of its neighbours — ^which exhibited more 
beU-handles, children, and porter pots, and 
caught, in all its freshness, the first gust of 
the thick black smoke that poured forth night 
and day from a large brewery hard by, hung 
a bill announcing that there was yet one 
room to let within its walls, although on 
what story the vacant room could be — regard 
b^ng had to the outward tokens of many 
lodgers which the whole front displayed, 
from the mangle in the kitchen-window to 
the flower-pots on the parapet— it would have 
been beyond the power of a calculating boy 
to discover. 

The common stairs of this mansion were 
bare and carpetless; but a curious visiter 
who had to climb his way to the top, might 
have observed that there were not wanting 
indications of the progressive poverty of the 
inmates, ^although their rooms were shut. 
Thus the first-floor todgers, being flush of 
furniture, kept an old mahogany table — real 
mahog^y— on the landing-place outside, 
which was only taken in when occasion 
required. On the second story the spare 
furoiture dwindled down to a couple of old 
deal chairs, of which one, belonging to the 
back-room, was shorn of a leg and bottom- 
less. The story above boasted no greater 
excess than a worm-eaten wash-tub; and 
the garret landing-place displayed no costlier 
arti<Ses than two crippled pitchers, and soine 
iiioken blacking-bottles. 

A Party in Lodgings, 
''The Kenwigses" were the wife and' 
olive branches of one Mr. Kenwigs, a turner 
in ivoiy, who was looked upon as a person 
of some consideration on the premises, inas- 
much as he occupied the whole of the first 
floor, comprising a suite of two rooms. Mrs. 
Kenwigs, too, was quite a lady in her man- 
ners, Md of a very genteel family, having an 
uncle who collected a water-r^; besides 
which distinction, the two eldest of her little 
^Is went twice a week to a dancing-school 
in the neighbourhood, and had. flairen hair, 
tied with blue ribbands hanging in luxuriant 
pigtails down their backs, and wore little 
wmte trousers with frills round the ancles — 
lor all of which reasons, and many more, 
Mualfy Vidid, but too numerous to mention, 
Mil. Kenwigs was considered a very desirable 
person to know, and was the constant theme 
of aU the gossips in the street, and even three 
or four doors round the corner at both ends. 

It was the anniversary of that happy day 
on which the church ^t England, as by law. 
established, had. bestowed Mrs. lUnwigt 
upon Mr. Kenwigs, and in grateful eomme- 
moration of the same, Mrs. Kenwigs had 
invited a few select frioads to caids and 
supper in the first floor, and put on a new 
gown to receive them in, which gown, being 
of a flaming colour, and made upon a hivenile 
principle, was so successful, that Bur. Kaa« 
wigs said .'the eight years of matrimony, and 
the five children, seemed all a dream, and 
Mrs. Kenwigs younger and more blooming 
than the very nnX Sunday he kept company 
with her. 

Beautiful as Mrs. Kenwigs looked wlie» 
she was dressed though, ana so stately t^ 
you would have supposed she had a cook 
and housemaid at least, and nothing to do 
but order them about, she had had a world 
of trouble with the preparations; more indi*ed 
than she, being <n a delicate and genteel 
constitution, could have sustained, had not 
the pride of housewifely upheld her. At 
last, however, all the things that had to be 
eot together were got together* and all the 
tilings that had to be got out of the way. 
were got out of the way, and eveiy thing 
was ready, and the collector himself having 
promised to come, fortune smiled upon the 

The party was admirably selected. There 
were first of all Mr. Kenwigs and Mrs. Ken-, 
wigs, and four olive Kenwigses, who sat up 
to supper, firstly, because it was but right' 
that they should have a treat on such a day; 
and secondly, because their going to bed in 
presence of the company, would have been 
mconvenient, not to say improper. Then 
there was the young lady who had made 
Mrs. Kenwigs's dress, and who — it was the . 
most convenient thing in the worid— -living 
in the two-pair back, ^ave up her bed to the 
baby, and got a little girl to watch it Then, 
to match this young udy, was a young man, 
who had known Jiu. Kenwigs when be was 
a bachelor, and was much esteemed by the 
ladiesy'as bearing the reputation of a rake. 
To these were added a newly-married couple^ 
who had visited Mr. and Mrs. Kenwigs in 
their courtship, and a sister of Mrs. Ken- 
wigs's, who was quite a beauty; besides 
whom, there was another young man, sup- 
posed to entertain honourable designs upon 
the lady last mentioned, and Mr. Noggs, 
who was a genteel person to ask, because he 
had been a gentleman once. There were 
also an elderly lady from the back parlour^ 
and one mqre young lady, who, next to the 
collector, perhaps was the great lion of the 
party, being the daughter of a theatrical 
fireman, who '* went on '' in the pantomime, 
and had the greatest turn for the stage that 
was. ever, kpown, being able to sing and 
recite in a manner that brought the tears 


into Mn. KeQwig»*8 eyes. There was only 
one drawback upon the pleasure of seeini^ 
such friends, and that was, that the lady in 
the back parlour, who was very fat, and 
turned of sixty, came in a low beok-muslin 
dress and short kid gloves, which so exaspe* 
rated Mrs. Kenwigs, that that lady assured 
her sister in private, that if it hadn't hap* 
pened that the supper was cooking at 4he 
back parlour grate at that moment, she cer- 
tainly would have requested its representative 
to withdraw. 

** My dear," said Mr. Kenwigs, " wouldn't 
it be better to begin a round game ?** 

** Kenwigs, my dear," returned his wife, 
** I am surprised at you. Would you begiu 
without my uncle ?" 

"I forgot the collector,** said Kenwigs; 
*< oh, no, that would never do." 

** He*s so particular,*' said Mrs. Kenwigs, 
turning to the other married lady, << that if 
we began without him, 1 should be out of 
his wiU for ever.** 

" Dear !" cried the married lady. 

'* You*ve no idea what he is,*' replied Mrs. 
Kenwigs ; '' and yet as good a creature aa 
€ver breathed.'* 

*<The kindei^t-hearted man that ever was,** 
said Kenwigs. 

'^ It goes to his heart, I beHeve, to be 
forced to cut the water off when the people 
don't ipay," observed the bachelor friend, 
intending a joke. 

" George,*' said Mr. Kenwigs, solemnly, 
** none of that, if you please." 

^< It was only my joke," said the friend, 

" George," rejoined Mr. Kenwigs, " a 
joke is a worry good thing — a weriy good 
thing ; but when that joke is made at the 
expense of Mrs. Kenwigs's feelings, I set 
my face against it. A man in puUic life 
expects to be sneered at — it is the Ckult of 
his elewated sitiwation, not of himseH. Mrs. 
Kenwigs's relation is a public man, and that 
he knows, George, and that he can bear; 
Imtf putting Mrs. Kenwigs out of the ques- 
tion (if I could put Mrs. Kenwigs out of the 
question on such an occasion as this), I have 
the honour to be connected with the coBector 
by marriage; and I cannot allow these 
remarks in my — *' Mr. Kenwigs was going, 
to say '< house,'* but he rounded the sentence 
with ** apartments." 

At the conclusion of these observations, 
which drew forth evidences of acute feeling 
from Mrs. Kenwigs, and had the intended 
effect of impressing the company with a deep 
sense of ^e collector's dignity, a ring was 
heard at the bell. 

** That's him,'* whispered Mr, Kenwigs, 
greatly excited, " Morleena, my dear, run 
down and let your uncle in, and kiss him 
directly you get the door open. Hera ! Let*s 
be talking.'* • 

Adopting Mr. Kenwigs's suggestion, the 
compaujF spoke very kmcUy, to lode easy and 
uuemlMUTiused ; and almost as soon as they 
had begun to do so, a short old gentleman^ 
in drabs and gaiters, with a face that mighl 
have been carved out of Ugnum vita, for any 
thing that appeared to the contrary, was led 
playfbiUy in by Miss Morieena Kitewigs, 
regarding whose uncommon Christian naoM 
it may be here remarked, that it was indented 
and composed by Mrs. Kenwi^ previous to - 
her first lying-iu, for the special distinction 
of her eldest child, in case it should prove at 

*' Oh, unele, I am so g^d to see you !'^ 
said Mrs. Kenwigs, kissing the collectos 
affectionately on both cheeks. ** So glad !'* * 

*' Many happy returns of tile <£ky, my 
dear^" replied me collector, letuming tiie 

Now this was an iBt^resting thing. Hoia 
was a collector of water-rates without his 
book, without his pen and ink, without his 
double knock, without his iutimidatioii, kis- 
sing-^actually kissing-Taa agreeable female, 
and leaving taxes, summonses, notices thai 
he had caUed, or announcements thai he 
would never call again for two quarters* due,- 
wholly out of the question. It was pleasant 
to see how the company looked on, quite 
absorbed in the sight, and to behold the noda 
and winks with which they expressed their 
gratification at finding so -much humanity iir 
a tax-gatherer. 

" Where will you sit, uncle P" said Mrs. 
Kenwigs, in the full glow of family pride, 
which the appearance of ber distinguished 
relation occasioned. 

'< Anywheres, my dear,** said the collector ; ^ 
^* I am not particular.** 

Not particular ! What a meek collector ! • 
If he had been an author, who knew his place,- 
he couldn*t have been more humble. 

<^ Mr. Lillyvick," said Kenwigs, addressing 
the collector, '' some fneqds here, sir, are 
very anxious for the honour of'^^thonk you — 
Mr., and Mrs. Culler, Mr. liUyvick." 

" J^roud to know you, sir," said Mr. Cutler, 
" I've heerd of you very often.'* rhese were 
not mere words of ceremony ; for Mr. Cutler, 
having kept house in Mr. Lilly viek's parish, 
had hessd of him very often indeed. Hia 
attention in calhng had bean quite extraor-' 

^ George, you know, I think, Mr. Lilljr- 
vick ?*' said Kenwigs. ** Lady from down 
stairs — Mr. Lillyvick, Mi. Snewkes *— Mr. - 
Lillyvick. Miss Green^Mr. Lillyvick. Mr. 
Lillyvick.— Miss Petowker, of the Theatre 
Royal, Drury Lane. Very glad to make two 
public characters acquaiuted. Mrs; -Ken- • 
wigs, my dear, will you sort the counters P" . 

Mrs. Kenwigs, with the assistance of 
Newman Noggs, (who, as he performed • 
sundry little act) of kindness forth* children • 

THE mirror: 


at all times and seasons, was humoured in 
bis request to be taken no notice of, and was 
merely spoken about in a whisper as the 
decayed gentleman), did as she was desired, 
and the j^eater part of the )(uests sat down 
to speculation, while Newman himself, Mrsa 
Ken wigs, and Miss Petowker, of the Theatre 
Royal,Drury-lahe, looked after the supper table: 

While the ladies were thus busying them- 
selves, Mr. LiUyvick was intent upon the 
game in progress, and as all should be fish 
that comes to a water-collector's net, the dear 
old gentleman was by no means scrupulous 
in appropriating to himself the property of 
his neighbours, which, on the contrary, he 
abstracted whenever an opportunity presented 
itself; smiling good-humouredly ail the while, 
and making so many condescending speeches 
to the owners, that they were delighted- with 
his amiability, and thought in their hearth 
that he deserved to be Chancellor of the Ext 
chequer at least. 

After a great deal of troable, and the adrni^ 
nistration of many slaps on the head to the 
infiuit Kenwigses, whereof two of the most 
rebellious were summarily banished, the 
cloth was laid with great etegance, and a 
pair of boiled fowls, a large piece of pork) 
apple-pie, potatoes and greens, were served ; 
at sight of which, the worthy Mr. LiUyvick 
vented a great many witticisms, and plucked 
up amaxingly, to the immense delight and 
satisfaction of the whole body of admirers. 
. Very well and very fast the supper went 
off; no more serious difficulties occurring 
than 'those which arose from the incessant 
demand for clean knives and forks, which 
made poor Mrs. Kenwigs wish more than 
once that private society adopted the princi- 
pie of schools, and required that every guest 
should bring his own knife, fork, and spoon, 
which doubtless would be a great accommo- 
dation in many cases, and to no one more so 
than to the lady and gentleman of the house ; 
especially if the school principle were carried 
out to the full extent, and the articles were 
expected, as a matter of delicacy, not to be 
taken away again. 

Everybody having eaten every thing, the 
table was cleared in ^most alarming hurry, 
and with great noise; and the spirits, 
whereat the eyes of Newman Noges glist- 
ened, being arranged in order, with water 
both hot and cold, the party composed them- 
selves for conviviality ; Mr. LiUyvick being 
stationed in a \axffe arm-chair by the fire- 
side, and the four little Kenwigses disposed 
on a small form iu'frout of the company, with 
their flaxen tails * towards them, and their 
faces to the fire. 

{The-dance of Morleena Kenwigs, and the 
seena of Miss Petowker, ^ich follow, with 
the parental comments thereon, are '^ very 
natural;*' and the Number concludes with an 
interruption of the party, the cau^e of which 

b adroitly reserved for next mouth. In tact^ 
as well as in a nice perception of the ridicu- 
lous, in humour, simplicity, pathos, and elear 
narrative, Boz certainly ranks foremost of his 



QFromAutobiographicat Sketches, by Mrt. Crawford.') 
How highly tea was estimated for a consi- 
derable period after its introd^ption into this 
country, may be inferred from the minute- 
ness and deUcacy of the cups and spoons 
which were then in use, of which, as a sort 
of curiosity at the present day, most per- 
sons have seen various specimens. The cups 
were chiefly, and probably for some time 
exclusively, those wnich were imported from 
China along with the tea. Their use being 
passed away, they are now preserved us 
ornaments, not only in cabinets and bou- 
doirs, but in the good old-fashioned comer* 
cupboards and mantel-shelves in the coun- 
try ; and though the figures on many of 
them are highly grotesque, yet the exquisite 
flelicacy and transparency of the fabric, and 
the richness of colour and elaborateness ojf 
some of the designs, must be allowed to be not 
only curious, but extremely beautiful. The 
spoons formerly employed were of course in 
due proportion to the fragUe pieces of porce- 
lain which were to receive them ; for had any- 
thing like a tea-spoon of modern dimensions 
been placed in one of the fairy tea -cups of 
the olden time, it would not only have up- 
set, but probably broken it in pieces. Along 
with the service of silver plate, which I have 
formerly mentioned as having been pre- 
sented by Queen Anne to my ancestor, Sir 
Charles Hedges, then one of her secretaries 
of state, was a set of the tea-spoons of that 
period, but which differed in some respects 
from any others that I have seen. The bowl, 
which was very small and shallow, was of a 
square, or shovel-shape, with raised flut- 
ings ; and the handle or stalk was remark- 
ably slender, and terminated in a small em- 
bossed rose. Altogether, the appearance, 
though antique, was extremely rich and ele- 

For some time after the introduction of 
tea into this country, and until the com- 
mencement of the last century, it was sold 
as high as from two to three guineas a 
pound. I recollect to have read that, in 
the reign of Charles II., a couple of pounds 
were presented, I think by the East India 
Company, to that monarch as a truly royal 
offering, and that, of course, not so much 
from its price, as from its great novelty and 
rarity. When I was last in the North, 1 
was told an amusing anecdote, whioh serves 
to show how little tea was known in some 
parts of England, even so recently as the 
commencement of the reign of George III. 
It was about that period that a yoimg man. 



anative of WeitMrmkmd, mho had MtUed in 
Loodmi, and nioeeeded fery well in bati- 
ii«M> sent to liii mother in the ooantry a 
present of a poaad of fine tea. The good 
old dame was a little poziled at firat how to 
proceed with it ; -hot at lentrth t»he pat the 
whole into the iail^fot, with,a due propor- 
tion of water, and boiled it for. about half 
an hoar. She then itrained oS the decoc- 
tion> which she threw away ; and when her 
husband camo home to dinner, she served 
up the tea-leaves in a large dLjh, with ai 
piece of nice fat bacon smoking at the top, 
telling the good man that ^he had prepared, 
by way of a treat, their son John's present 
from Lunnon. The worthy couple tried, 
by ^ternate administrationM of penper and 
•alt, to render the mess palatable, but all in 
vain. They both agreed that conumn greens 
were far preferable ; and when' the old dame 
"Wrote to thank her son John, ithe told him 
so, be^Sr^>^^> ^^ ^'^ wme time, that he would 
not spend ** any more of his money on such 
new-fangled stuf,** 

Strange as this mode of taking tea may 
appear, I have heard that in China, where 
there is an excess of population above the 
ordinary means of support, the natives, after 
having^ prepared and taken un ih (union from 
the tea, somewhat in the same manner as 
we do in thi^ country, reserve the leaves for 
a subsequent meal, and eut them cold, as a 
salad, with oil and vinegar. Possibly, how- 
ever, this may only be the practice with the 
poorest of the people, thou;gh I fancy the 
poor are there a very numeroui* class. 

As to ourselves, tea has of course g[radu« 
ally dropped its luxurious character with its 
rarity, until, froni the small begrinnings al- 
luded to, it has now become one of the 
necessaries of life. In spite of all that may 
occasionally be said or written against it, I 
confess myself to be a decided advocate for 
this delightful and most refreshing beverage. 

** If,*' as 1 recollect to have ooce henrd a 
lady say to a medical gentleman, who was 
declaiming fearfully agtiinst what he called 
Ha poisonous qualities, << if it be a poison, it 
is at all events a slow one, for many invete- 
rate tea-drinkers have attained a very patri- 
archal age." 

In a word, I believe this pretended poison 
keeps pace Only in its operation with the 
wasting of the lamp of life, and, unless when 
used to that excess in which of course the 
best things are hurtful, that it is rather con- 
ducive to the prolongation of human exist- ^ 
ence. The poets have generally been the 
advocates of tea, as favouring their sweet 
inspirations. Cowper has beautifully cele- 
brated its praises, m his charming poem of 
« The Task ;" and Waller says— 

,*« The miue*> friend, tea, 4oes our fgiiiey aicl,T 
RepreM thoie vapours whkh the head rovade^ 
Aim keep that palace of the wool serene. 
Fit for her l^h-day ta»alate a queen.** 

When, however, I hear of men of geaius 
and studious persons taking strong infusions 
of green tea, to keep themtfelves awake over 
the midnight and even the morning lamp* 
thus perverting the wise Jews of naturei it 
always appears to me a sort of lamentable 
suicide. Henry Kirke White, and many 
others of the gifted band, who fell early vic<| 
tuns to consumption, resorted to this ipin* 
sion, as a stimulus to ward off. qmn's most 
soothing and honest friend, sleep, for which« 
with its consequent loss of health, if not ol 
life, even Fame itself is but a poor substi- 
tute.— ife/rv^^^lM. 

. << The Lancer9,**-^Ur. Flaseh^ thus il- 
lastratet the origin of the laftee earned by 
our modem regiment t.-r-'** In the. Ba^ietix 
tapestry, William and his prmeipal kuifhta 
are teen with lauoes^ ornamented with ftap 
and streamers, which weve termed, in the 
lani^ai^e of that day, Gonfanous, o< Goufii- 
loos. Upwards of seven huiid«ed yean .hafik 
elapsed. since the Ooq((^i«eyt ; the kuieothaaa 
again become an English military .went^n, 
and the streamer ia vtiU aUaehed to it." A. 
Norman knight, beariny; a .lencet will W 
found, engiaved from the Baveux tattestry, 
in the Mirr&r, vol. xxiii, p. i'd^. 

Self-examination will tell those persona 
who are disposed to be most severe On dis- 
tinguished minds, that if their lives have not 
incurred ptibiic censure, its absence is 4««a 
attributable to the inflexible rectittide Of their 
eonduct, than to the fortimate obscurity of 
their lives. —CAar/et Builer. 

Prayer of the Minister of the Cumbrayt>> 
two miserable inlands in the mouth of the 
Clyde : — *< O Lord, bless ahd be gracious 
to the Greater and the Le.«ser Cumbrays ; 
and, in thy mercy, do not forget th^ ad|a-' 
cent islands of Great Britain and' Irtdand.*^ 
Thii is nos poma natamitM with a v^ge-' 
ance !— &> fr. SeoWt Diary. 

Sir. Walter Scott compares aged sheep or 
wethers to some old. dowager ladies and 
^entleqien of his acquaintance: no one 
cares about them till they come to be eui 
tw, and then we see how^ the tallow lies on, 
tne kidneys and the chine. 

iE BEAT A.— In the Aooount of the CoronatloB, i^ 
page 1 of tlie present Volume, at the top of col. S, 
for ** tlie most youthfiil Sovereisa,** vSad " the most 
yonthftU female Sovereign.** The note to the sama 
refers, to Edwar<l V., instead of Edward VL Thanka 
to " A Friewl'* &c 

LONDON: Printed and yuhlitkedl^ J, LI UBriOf, 
143, Strand, (aeor S9m€ttet Houti) ; and toU by 
all H*toksitllert and /Virtrf laea —Aamt, in PAMIS» . 
O, 9F. JV. REYNOLDS, French, Eiglitk, tmd Jm- 
riean Ltbrarw. So, Rue NentM St. Auguttim,^' Im 

Clj£ Minor 






IN HYDE PARK, JUNE 28, 1838. 

THtfpMiexed novel Dloiiirtttion has- origi** 
> iikted in anxiety to correct otnr~ Naff atire 
of 4li» recent Coronation, and its yarious 
e^0t)ration8. Thu», at pagb 25, the con- 
e^liig design of the Fireworks, displayed 
iii Hyde Park, is stated to have been' the 
«dtrance arch to Buckingham Palace; whiere- 
as it bore but a general resemblance to that 
costly structure, as may be seen by reference 
to the prefixed representation of the superb 
device, and the following details, furnished 
bV the ingenious artist, Mr. South by. 

Since the night of the Coronation, Mr. 
Sonthby has repeated his display at the 
" Surrey Zoological Gardens,'^ with a few 
advantages over the original exhibition ; and 
the achievement being altogether a very bril- 
liant one in the records of Pyrotechny, it 
has been considered worthy of representa- 
tion in our Miscellany. 

The dimensions of the design are 60 feet 
in height by about 40 feet in breadth; the 
airhole, with the avenues of fire across the 
Lake at the Gardens, extending for about 
150 feet. 

The architectural outlines are formed by- 
a vast number of what are termed lancesj or 
white lights, made much longer than usual, 
so as to continue burning for a greater length 
of time than is customary in fireworks. 

The centre is occupied by a transparency, 
painted by Danson, representing our be- 
loved Queen, in her Coronation Robes, on 
horseback ; her Majesty wearing? the stars 
and ribbons of the Orders of the Bath, This- 

" tie, and St. Patrick. 

When this splendid device was fired in 
Hyde Park, it was elevated on a lofty stage, 

! by which the effect of its gigantic propor- 
tions was impaired. But, at the Surrey Gar- 
dens, it is fired nearly from the level of the 
Lake, which beautifully reflects the bril- 
liancy of the countless lights; whilst the 
transparency, being lit from behind, with 
^ne changing blue and green flames, causes 
ih$ regal ornaments to stand out with the 
eifecf of real jeweb. 

^n the Park, the brightness was somewhat 
inteftferi&d with, byjerbs and Rom an, candles 
being injudiciously fired in front of the main 

f design of the Temple, and its transparent 
Portrait, which were thus only visible for a 
f6^ minutes, at intervals, through a cloud 
of smoke. This is now avoided ; the out- 
line of the structure is better defined, and 

. shines forth in all the picturesque beauty of 
the design, and gorgeous magnificence of 
the various fires, &c. 

Since the splendid Commemoration in the 

Xondbu Parks, in the year 1814, there has 

'%eeB nothing displayed in Pyrotechny which 

can be cooipared with the triumphs of last 

Coronation Night. 

There have befin but four exhibitions of 
fireworks in "the royal parks in London: 
the first was on April 27, 1749, on occasion 
of the general peace concluded at' Aix^la— ' 
ChHpeHe, November 7, 174S;— On Which- 
occasion, a splendid temple "was^ erected m- ^ 
the Green Park, 144 feet long. In -the 
centre was a Statue of Peace, with her £oo| 
on a cannon-ball, attended by Mar^.jtfm 
Neptune ; immediately in firont wais a mn- - 
sic-gallery, in which were 100 musician^y ' 
who performed the mu<!iic composed ex-. 
pressly for the occasion by the c^brated- 
Handel. Over the centre compartment was 
a grand basso relievo, illuminated, repre-- 
sentittg George IT. giving peace to England. 
This basso relievo was surmounted by the 
royal arms, which were 100 feetfrom the 
foundation. At a height of 50 feet from 
the arms was an enormous sun, .32 feet ia^ 
diameter, which burnt for. some houra.-^ 
The whole length of the building was 4rlO - 
feet : at each extremity was a store-house 
fbr the engineers, connected with the tem-- 
ple, on either side, by five arcades for can- . 
non. The ascent to the music-gallery was 
by two flights of steps. The whole front at 
the temple was adorned with rich carvings^ 
painting)!, medals, and statues, and displayed, 
fireworks in every device and colour. At 
the top of the temple were two immense^ 
stars, behind which 600 rockets were fired;- 
at the conclusion, 6>000 rockets went off at^ 
once; after which, the whole building was 
illuminated, and continued so for 105 

The second display of fireworks in the 
Green Park was on August 1, 1814, to cele- 
brate the centenary of the Houi^e of Bruns- 
wick, and the general peace.^ A fortress or 
castle was erected, the ramparts of which 
were 100 feet square, surmounted by a 
round tower in the centre, about 60 feet in 
diameter, and rising to the height of about 
50 feet from the ramparts. Four grand 
changes of fireworks were exhibited from 
this cajBtle, the whole elevation of which 
exceeded 90 feet. On a sudden, in the^^ 
midst of a volame of flames^ clouds of' 
smoke, and the thunder of artillery, the 
lofty fortress, the emblem of destructive 
war> was transformed into, a Temple of 
Peace. Grand fireworks were alijo exhi- 
bited ^n the Terrace of Kensington Gar- 
dens, at the head of the Serpentine : the 
immense girandoles of rockets, rising from 
the midst of the trees in the gardens, had a 
very pleasing elTect. 

The next public display of Pyrotechny 
was on the celebration of the coronation ^ 
George IV., in Hjde Park, July 10, 1821 ; 
but it was very insigni^cant, and did not 
attract much public attention. 

THB MJI^i)^. 



Tkk . coroDalioB ^ of whiob the fullest ao« 
c<Hiilt has coQe down to xuh and wMoh. 
iippears to have been one of the most uiai^* 
mnBent in the << olden tiine»»'' waa that of 
Hekiry VIII. and Catherine of Ariigon.— 
Thiii has been described by Hall with much 
mintitenesN. He slates, that on the 21(ft of 
June, l5Q9x Henry came from Gfreenwich 
to London, and devoted^the ensuing day to 
the ceremonies of tho Bath. << The mor- 
r^iT' following being Saturday, his Grao^ 
with the Queen, dq^rted from the Toyfet, 
t}irppgh the city of London ; Qgaiost whoso 
coming the stre^ets wliere his Grac^ should 
mvss were huiged with tapestry and cloth 
ctf .arras, and the {^reat part of the south of 
Ohepe (Cheap8ide),with cloth of gold, and 
i(ome part of Cornehill also. The streets 
were railed and barred on the one side, 
ffOH^ over against Graipechurch-^treet unto 
Brei^d*street» in Chepe, where every oocu^ 
potion (company) stood in their liveries in 
carder, beginning with base and mean occu- 
pations, and so ascending to the worshipful 
crafts; highest and lastly stood the major 
with tbe aldermen. The goldsmiths* stalls 
unto t(be eqd of the Old Change were re- 
fiUnmk^d with virgins in white, with, 
branel^es of white wax; the priests an4> 
clerks, in rich, copes, with crosses and cen- 
sers of silver, with censing his Grace and 
the Queen also as they passed.". The ap- 
parel of the king must have been, according 
to this chronicler, most splendid. <<His 
Qj^ace wore for his uppermost garment^ a 
robe of crimson velvet, furred with ermine ; 
his coat was of raised gold, the placard of 
which was e^nln'oiderea with diamonds, ru- 
bies, emerailds, great pearls, and otheir rich- 
stones ; the trai>p,ings of his Iiorse were da- 
mj^k gold^ with a deep border of ermine. 
&18 Queen was borne iu a litter by two 
white pal(reysj which were trapped in white 
cloth, of gold ; her person was apparelled in 
i^hite, embroidered satin ; her hair hanging 
^wn her, back, of n very gret^t length, beau<* 
tif^ and gqyiMfly tobehold j and on her head, 
a'coropal, set With ipanj^ rich orient stones.^* 
The. same author (H,ttTl) Had,, in not niany 
years afterwards, to record the. coronatipa 
of Anne^Boleyn, which lie <loes."wijth ,cqn^ 
minuteness^ and, us it would seem, with 
not lejtfs ardour. After d^sca-ibing the voy- 
age from Greenwich, and the'**batheing and 
shryveing" of the knight, he narrates the 
land p^dcessiori^ which was enUvened with 
" many . conynge ^pageauhtes,*' amusing 
c^nough to hear of in our day. 


** CoNCEiyx ip yourself,* if you can," says 
a writer of the lime^' ^' conceive what I am 

' ■ ■' ' F'2 

at a loss to describe— so magnificent a build- 
ing at that of Westminster Hall, lighted up 
with near three thousand wax candles, 14 
niovt splendjd. branches,; our crowned heads,' 
and almost the whole nobility, with the.primtt. 
of our gentry,' most superbly, arrayed, aiu^ 
a4ome4 with a profusion of the must briU 
liaut jewels; the galleries on every sid^ 
crowdeii) with company, for the most part; 
elegantly and richly dcessed ; but to conceive, 
it iu all itsiustre, I am conscious that it is^ 
a)>solutely necessary. to have been present^" , 


Haying called one morning on a high dig-> 
nitary of the church, (says a modem tra* 
veller,) after ascending a magnificent stairi-: 
case, I passed through a long suite of rooma- 
to the apartment in which the reverend eo-^ 
desiai^ was seated. When I had eon#> 
duded my visit, I bowed and retired; buty 
according to the invariable custom of thai 
country, on reaching the door, I turned, 
and made another salutation ; — on -which' 
ray host, who was slowly following me, re^* 
turned my inclination by one equally pro- 
found. When I arrived at the door of the^ 
second apartment, he was standmgon th«> 
threshold of the firilt, and the same oer^- 
nsony again passed between us. When I* 
had gained the third apartment, he was oc^< 
cupymg the place I had 'just left on the «e^ > 
cond ; —the same civilities were then re- 
newed ; and these polite reciprocations 
were continued, till I had travelled., the. 
whole suite of apartments. At the bannis- 
ters I made a bow, and, as I supposed, a 
final salutation ; but, on my reaching the 
first landing-place, he was at the top of the 
stairs. When I stood on the second land- 
ing-place, he had descended to the first; 
and, upon each and all of these occasions, 
our heads wagged with increased humility. ' 
Our journey to the foot of the stairs was at 
length completed. I hud now to. pass' 
through a long hull, divided by columns, to 
the front door, at which my carriage was' 
standing. Whenever I reached. one of these, 
pillars, I turned, and found his Eminence' 
waiting for the expected bow, which hcj' 
immediately returned,, continually progres-' 
sing, and managing his paces, so. as ,ti^ .go 
through his share of the ceremony on the; 
precise spot which had witnessed my last| 
inclination. As I approached the hali-dbor,. 
our mutual salutations were no longer occa- 
sional, but absolutely perpetual ; and thejr^ 
still continued after I had entered my car-' 
riiage, 'as the bishop stood with his head 
uncovered till it was driven away. — W. G. O. 


The Grdgds, or Gray Goose, (says a re- 
cent writer,) .is a collection of traditional, 
laws, compiled by Bergthor^ logsomadr, or 


inprema jiidgey of the uland> in the. begin- 
ning of the eleventh eentnry. Since Berg*' 
iStui*§ time* this code has been revised and 
elmbed with additional tni^titutes. It con-* 
Mv evidence of a high antiquity ; and, in 
flii marriage codcy there is much of a hea- 
then origpn» especiaUy in the ceremonials. 
The customary punitdunent^, independeal 
of pecuniary mulcts, are— exile, for short 
or long periods, incarceration, and proscrip- 
tion. The exile's life was at every man's 
BMrcy, though he might, as was customary 
among heatMO aations, purcha;^ rembsion 
of his sentence, by slaying three brother 
exiles' of desperate character. The of- 
fender's property was confiscated, his mar- 
riage was dissolved, and even his children 
mmn Tookoned illegitimate.. The severity 
«^ the pnnishment was aggravated by the 
Oomparative' indgnificanoe of the ofl^nces 
i^inst which it was directJ^d: a man being 
MaMo to banishment if he played at dice, or 
•ay other game of iohance, for the sake of 
gain ;— if he cut off another persou's hair; 
if- lie bit or struck a lellow<^ealure, so as 
to raise blue spots on his skin ; if he' com- 
posed amatory strains on a married female; 
or if he tore off his neighbour's bonnet, 
vdien fastened on his head, he became an 
cAilaast, liable to be hunted down, and de- 
pendant for his existence on the forbearance 
•fUsMbw-oreatures. . W.6.C. 


I^HB following list of Turkish feminine ac-. 
eomplishments, oh the occasion of a lady, 
going to seek a wife for her son, is given 
ny a recent traveller : — The large saloon 
into which the company was ushered by the' 
hostess was empty ; but presently the nine . 
ubmarried daughten of the house came 
running in, one after the other, as if in a 
race. Once within the room, they became, 
as meek and decorous as need be ; and ap- 

5ronched, like whirling dervishes, about to 
egin their waltz, with slow and measured 
steps, and with their arms crossed on their 
l^osoms, to kiss the hand of the visitor who . 
oanie to chck>se a daughter-in-law among 
them. '< They are/' said the mother, " by 
t|ie blessing uf the Virgin, all to be mar- 
ried !'*' And then, as they passed before 
the low divan, one by one dropping their 
lips on the hand of her who hod brought a 
husband for one of them into the world, she 
irepeated the name and qnality of each. — 
There "was certainly a variety — from girlish * 
thirteen to mature nine-and-twenty ; and 
the variety was marked in other things than 
ajgeJ ' One possessed, in an eminent degree, 
this accomplishment of embroidering to- 
bacco-pouches ; -^another was distinguished 
^ a cook, and a niaker Of sweetmeats : — 
another made sherbets equal to any that 
^iriire evnr drunk in the seraglio ;— one was 

a pattern of eoonomy* fer 'she oould Jupplf 
a house a whole day for a rubieh less than 
any body else ;— and another was a pattern 
of ta^te, for she eonid paint doves and roMa 
on Kelemkiars; and sing psalms und Turkish 
songs to the accompaniment of some old 
Armenian pipers, who were very great per- 
formers, and the attraction of the Tekke, 
nt Pera. W. G: C: 

tBOliMnijilT oAartB. 
Our notice of this interesting ruin, (see 
MirroTf vol. xxix. p. 273,) being but scanty 
and ineompletis' the following details wiU» 
doubtleft, be an acceptable' addition. 

Mr. Shavmi'Tuirner; in the first leditiott of 
his History of the Jinglo^Stufong, suppdses 
Thombury to have been a British city, and 
to have constituted the residence of C^iideU 
Ian, a t>etty king ; probably, the same With 
Gondiclan, who fell in 577, at the battle of 
Byrham. Mr. Fosbroke is likewise of opi- 
nion, that this place, situated close to an an- 
cient passage of the Severn, was fortified at 
a very early period. 

' There is good reason for believing Thom- 
bury to have been a town of sonie importance 
in the time of the Saxons. A market was 
certainly established here before the Con- 
quest ; and the manor formed pkit of tho 
royal domain at the time of the Grrat Sur> 
ve^. In that recocd, the name is written 
Timeberie, from TorUy or Tmrite, a court ; 
and, within the limits of the parish, is a 
hamlet named Kington. 

The manor belonged, before the entry of 
the Normans, to Brictric, a Saxon thane, 
who had, early in life, refused the hand of 
Maud, afterwards Queen of William the 
Conqueror. A peculiar opportunity of re- 
venge was afforded to the alighted la^y ; as 
her hiisbabd, on ascending the throne of 
England, be«towed u^n her the' estates of 
the man who had declined her love; and^ she 
had the barbarous gratification of effecting 
his utter ruin. Returning to the crowii; on 
the decease of Queen Maud, the manor of 
Tbombinry was given by King Willivn Ru- 
fus to Robert FitS'Haymon; with whose 
daughter it passed, in marriage, to the fa* 
mily of the Earls of Gloucester. By descent 
fVom the Clares, Earls of Gloucester, through 
Margaret, dauj^hter and heir of another Mar- 
garet, wife of Hui^h de AudWy, sister and 
co-heir of the Ia»t Gilbert de Clare, the mfL' 
nor devolved to Ralph Lord Staffcod, whose 
descendant, Humphrey Staflford, was created 
Duke of Buckingham. 

The misfortunes which befel the dukes of 
this lineage have been incidentally nottoed, 
in connexion with Thombuiy Castle. The 
fates of its founder and his fother, in the 
imperishable language of Shahepaaie^ die- 


tmM tlMte nahinl and impiMBlf t i«t«etMms 
on the perfidy of the wofkl : , 

Yoa that het im» 
TUs from a dying man. raceiye M certain : 
Wlieia yon are liberal of yuar lovM aiid ooDUMeift 
Be sure ye be not looee; fbr those yoa make flrlmide, 
A|i4 give your hearts to, itlien thf>v onee petceive 
The least rob in yonr Hn-tanM. fkll away 
Uke water ftom ye, never firand again, 
silt where they mean to sinlc ye. 

A castle at Thorobury ia noticed in Uie 
earliest records of this place ; and the present 
unfinished building occupies the site of that 
structure. It was commenced t^ the Duke 
of Buckingham, in the second vear of Heniy 
VIII. ;. at which time he was high in office, 
and was not only the most affluent, but the 
■NHit popiilat noUeman of his day. The 
veason fiir his not completing this castle is 
by no means evident, imless we can suppose 
Qieni not to have been sufficient time for 
such an undertaking between the second of 
Heniy VIII., (1511,) and the attainder of 
the duke, (in 1531.) It is known that he 
oegasionallj resided in such patts as were 
habitable ; and It has been •aii, that Henry 
passed ten days here, in the year IS39,— 
Stow, after noticing the building, remarks, 
that the duke ** made a laire parke hard by 
the castle, and tooke much ground into it, 
veij fruitfid of come, now laire land for 
coiusing " 

Mr. Oallaway terms the castlei " * remark- 
abk) spectmen of architecture, which, adopt* 
11^ a military appearance, displayeid. like* 
wise, the magnificence and convenience of a 
private dwelling ;" and he bestows on it the 
name of a ** palatial castle." It is scarcely 
necessary to add, that this mode of design — 
the castellated mansion — succeeded to the 
regularly fi>rtified dwellings of the middle 
ages ; no example of which occurs at a later 
period than the reign of Richard II. 

The plan of Thornbury Castle, as far as 
completed^ may be thus described. A large, 
aicfand gate opens into a spacious %uadran> 
i^ furnished with doisteis for stables, and, 
iS lome examiners have thought, with ao- 
conunedations for troops in garrison. This 
Courtis commanded b^ a lar^ and strong 
tower ; on one side of which is a wall, and 
another- gate opening into a smaller court, 
communicating with the state apartments, 
which are in a line contiguous to the tower, 
ipd are diitinguishable t^ennshed^fffOAect^ 
in)( Windows. This portion of the castle is 
Ibowttciskoitf Engraving, already reforred to. 
The «liimnef<«hAfts aHs of brick, wrought 
iato spiral eolttinna; the bases of which are 
ckacgvd with the cognisances of the family, 
and the Stafford knot. 

-: On the principal gatehouse is the following 
JfeMcriptiotu — ^'This Gatb was bboun in 
VK TXffB qm oun LoBVB GoDB, Mccccoxi., 
lk»,4),/YB«ft ov rax Rbymx ov Ktmqv 
HiNHft^vpi viii. ftn.MB, Edw. 9vc of 

BuKxmauA, Sxllx of HAKFOftnx, Staf* 

FOROB, AKOB NOBTHAlfTO.*' To tluS itt* 

•cription is appended the word, or moth^; of 
the duke— '< DoRsuBTAmtT," (henoeforwaid.) 
In the year 1582, a Survey of these pre* 
mises was taken by a jury, and the cuneut 
statement drawn up at that time has been 
minted in the CoUeetanea of Leland» and the 
language modernised by the Rev. T. BiBm* 
broke. This document is printed in Stoeii% 
JDetineatioTu of OlouceBtenhire ; and, as ii 
is both valtiable and interesting, fiom its af> 
fording a picture of the arrangrment of a 
mauMion of the early part of the sixteeotb 
century, we here insert the same. 

Survey of Thornbury Cattte, WHuie in 1582. 

L^The Base Court, eontaining two and • 
half acres, encircled with lodgings for ler- 

' vants. (Left unfinished.) 

S. — At the entry into the castle, on the west 
side of the base court, are two giies, a 
targe and a small one, with a wicket Oa 
tlie left hand, a Porter's Lodge, oontaininff 
three rooms, with a dungeon undemeatn 
for a place of imprisonment, (for miiibe* 
having servants, ftc.) 

3. — Within was a court leading to the Great 
Hall, which was entered bv ajpocch. . It 
had, also, a passage from the weat Kit* 
chen. In the middle of the liall was a 
hearth, to hold a brasier. At the nppet 
end of it was a room, with a chimney, 
called the Old HalU From the upper end 
of the Great Hall, a staircase ascended to 
the Ghreat Chamber ; at the top of which 
are two lodging-rooms. A room, paved 
with brick, and chimneyed, was connected 
with the head of the stairs. (These ap- 
pear to have been lodging-rooms for visi* 

4. — In this court, leading to the huli| were 
wet and dry Larders, the privy-bake- 
house, and Boiling-house; all communi- 
cating with the Great Kitchen. Over 
these apartments were lodging-rooms for 
the servants, and, above these, a long loft, 

5. — The Great Kitchen had two la^ chim- 
neys, and one smaller. Within it was jl 
privy-kitchen ; over which was a lodgiQ|^ 
room for the cooks. 

6. — A Sculleiy and Pantry, adjoining^ on<i 
side of the entry from the kitclj^ea tp tlMi 
Great Hall ; the scullery having a laige 
flue, or chimney, in it. Over the^other 
side of the entry were t^rp C^rUars, ,. . 

7. — Between these and the lower end of the 
hall was the Buttery ; and over the whole 
of these last-named offices were four lodg- 
ing, rooms, with one adjoining room, 
called the Clerk's Treasury. 

S.--The ChapeU-^*< From the tower end of 
the G^eat Hall, is an. entry, leading to the 
Chai^U ; at the corner of the. end of wl^di 
entry is a Sellar. .The lipj^ part of the 



Chappell is a fair room, for people to Htaud 
in at service time ; and over the same are 
two rooms, or petitions, (sic) with each of 
them a chimney, where the Duke and 
Duchess used to sit and hear service in 

• the Chappell. The body of the Chappell 
itself fair built, having twenty-two settles 
of wainscot about the same, for priests, 
clerks, aud quiristers." 

&• — ^The Garden, surrounded with a cloister. 
Over the cloister a Gallery, out of which a 

Passage led to the Parish Church of 
'hornbury, having, at the end, a room 
with a chimney and window, looking into 
the church, where the Duke used some- 

. times to hear service in the same church. 
(See page 34 of the present volume.) 

lO. — Lodging-rooms. There were thirteen 
near the last-ipentioned gallery, six below, 
three of which. had chimneys, and p&veu 
above, four of which had chimneys. These 
Y^ere called the Earl of Bed/otdg I^dg- 

1 !• — The Tower, and annexed buildings, 
were the immediate places of residence 
for the Duke and Duchess. They con- 
tained suites of rooms, one within another, 
or stories icommunicating by staircases ; 
and are thus described :— The loilirer part 
of the principal building of the castle is 
called the New Building. Af the west 
tm] thereof is a fair tower. In this lone 
building, (the new building, or that ad- 
joining to the tower,) is contained one 
great chamber, with a chimney therein ; 
and within that is another room, with a 
chimney, called the Duchess* Lodging. 
Between the two last rooms was a closet, 
(designed for her Oratory.) Coiuiected 
with these two last rooms was another, 
which formed the foundation, or lowermost 
part of the Tower, with a chimney. From 
the lodging of the Duchess, a Gallery, 
paved with brick, led to a 'staircat^e, which 
ascended to the Duke*s lodging above, and 
was used as a privy way. All these rooms 
Were for the accommodation of the Duchess 
and her suite. 

[The Survey then takes us back to the 
Great Hall, whence it proceeds to ^he 
Grtjal Chamber, Ili8 Dititn^-Tlooni, (of the 
family,) and \he Duke'^f U>{lgin^ij. Con- 
nected with thv l]pt?d-chafubi^r of tim Diike, 
there werflT li^r ^K^tet it-L-ihitjT ihti JuiVtU 
Room aud the Ml^ttirdkftll'EJOom.] 

12. — ^*Ff(jm thu upi>er tnd yftht* Qruat Hall 
19 a steyer^ asceadiug up tuwurda the Great 
Chtimberj at the top whereof are two 
lot]|;i 1 1 g- ro{3 m 5 . Leadin g from I he st ey er*a 
head tu \h^ Great Chamber in a fair rtrom;, 
paved with brick, and a chimu^y in the 
aame, (see No. 3, htjfiire i) at the end 
whereof doth m^el a fair gaUiiiry, leading 
from (he Great Chamber to lltt: Karle of 
Bi'dfuid*B Jodgiu^^ (lee Nu- 10,) on the 

one side, and tp the Chappell on the other 
side. The Great Chamber is very fair, 
with a chimney' therein. tVithin the same 
is one other fair chamber, called the Di- 
ning Chamber, with a chimney therein^ 
likewise. And within that, again, is one 
other fair chamber, with a chimney therein 
also, called thePrivy Chansber ; and witHin 
the same, again, i^ one other chamber, or 
closet, called the Duke*8 Jewel-Chamber. 
Next unto the Privy Chamber, or the inner 
part thereof, is a fair round chamber, be- 
ing the second story of the tower, called 
the Duke*8 Bed-Chamber. From the 
Privy Chamber, a steyer leadieth Up into 
another fair, round chamber, over the 
Duke's Bed-Chamber, (like unto the 
same,) being the third story of the Tower, 
and so upwards, to answer a like chamber 
over the same, where the Evidents do lye. 
AH which last-recited buildings, caviled the 
New BuiidingSf are builded fair with 
freestone, covered with lead." 
We are struck with the completeness of 
this mansioui but not especially with the 
number of chimneys in its construction: for, 
although chimneys were introduced as early 
as the year 1200, and did not become jgeiie- 
ral until late in the reign of Elizabieth, or the 
sixteenth century, they were commoti beiore 
that perioil in ''the religious houses, And 
manor-placei of the lords, and, peradvetiture, 
some great personages." There occurs men- 
tion of a chamber with a chimney, by a wri- 
ter of the reign of Richard IH. ; and, some- 
what later, it was customary to provide rooms 
fur ladies, wilh chimneys, as in the lodging- 
rooms (No. 10) of Thornbury Castle. The 
purvey denotes the castle to have been 
planned with strict regard to high conveni- 
ence, considering the period of its erection 
to have been that of transition from the for- 
tress to the dWelliiig*house — from rudedess 
to refinement. 

Mr. Fosbroke, in some remarks appended 
to the preceding Survey, observes, that " the 
removal of the dungeon to the porter^s lodge, 
and^the omission of a keep, were alterations 
which followed naturally from police super- 
seding war. There appears to have beeti 
but a reredosse in the great hall, which Was 
opposite to the gate-house, as Usual, and t)ie 
'cent re o f co'mniunication . The ground .floors 
were pMTpIy officesj aud all above ilie fmnily 
apartmint^. The hall -kitchen wan for the 
whole household ^ the privy-kitchfn, whtt^e 
was 1 he chief cookj for the lord. The gar- 
den w£L» tiir e^KTebe after mns!»< One iKiug 
i^, iu ^larticuhr^ worthy of rtmaik, and ap- 
plicable to most old seats t ihat^ from the 
niiniher of paatiageji, und the commuu lent ions 
with the gardea^ haU, chapel, fec-t and iW 
til vision of apartment:!! in huiti^Sf bur aiic^* 
loTfi did not generally a^bentble iu nne room^ 
(as now,) particular ii'mes ixcepte^l^ for meais 



or deyoiioii ; but resided in thii same hdifee;' 
ai separate lodgers.** 
'In Hat nign of Slitabdtfa^ many of the 

Srineipal^Hmbers were removed from this ua- 
nished structure. The building was forti- 
fied rn the wars of the seventeenth century 
by the royalists, with the view of restraining 
ttie garrison at Gloucester; since which time 
H has gradually sunk into dilapidation, 
through neglett and desertion by its owners. 
After the fall of Edward, Duke of Buck- 
itogham, the estate of Thorobury remained 
with his family until the reign of Charles I. ; * 
at which time, by a marriage of the female 
heir, it passed to a branch of the Howard 
family, who obtained the title of Viscount 
Stafford, in the sixteenth year of that king. 
Oh the decease of John Paul Stafford How- 
ard, without issue, in 1762, the manor de* 
volved, by family conveyances, to the Nor- 
folk family, in whose possession it remains. ' 

lu Thorabury Castle, that dismantled 
** house of pride,** what lessons do we read 
on the short-sightedness of man, the vanity 
of his works, and the vicissitudes by which 
his fondest schemes of enjoyment aie frus- 
trated, and his day-dreams of happiness 
chased away-^his hopes nipped in the bud 
of fruition, and his vexations recorded' in 
characters, which "all who run may read!" 
In lingering about these unfinished waited 
^ins they can scarcely be called with pro- 
priety — it needs no Sage to tell what they be- 
speak, or to decipher the handwriting that 
proclaims to all, the nothingness of human 
gprandeur. Even the unlettered peasant must 
syfnpathise in sueh a scene of neglect and de- 
Solatioti. The blankne&s of the walls is re- 
lieved here and there, by patches of ever- 
greens, which, in their vivid freshness, 
deepen, by contrast, the saddening decay .-^ 
Perchance, ivy mantles the windows, or creeps 
about their broken mullions and transoms in 
the graceful beauty of nature, flinging over 
the labours of art her luxuriant and unspair- 
ing beauty. Yet, as you walk amidst these 
tetics of vanity, vou will not fail to asso- 
ciate with them the fallen fortunes, and the 
depth of humility, into which the chief 
line of the Clares, Earls of Gloucester, the 
Bohuns, Earls of Hereford, and the Staffurds, 
))ukes of Buckingham, sank, before it was 
ptterly extinguished. Ro^r Stafford, great 
grandson of the mighty Edward, Duke of 
Buckingham, was compelled, by the arbi- 
trary government of Charles I., to surrender 
his claim to the barony of Stafford, because 
"he had no lands or means to support baro- 
nial dignity." JaAe, sister of Roger, was 
'the wife of a Joiner , at Newport, in Shrop- 
Ihire ; where, (writes Mr. Fosbroke,) «he was 
liviDg, hit widow, in 1637, and her son was 
—a cobbler ! 

tlmOioU OMttg. 


Tkh DMMt remarkable anomaly among the 
bwtbarism of the Slavic (the ancient Rus- 
sians,) was the famous republic and empo- 
rium of Jomsberg, situated on a small island 
near the mouth of the Oder. In the eleventh 
century, (says a German writer,) it was. the 
greatest city in Europe : the modem WoUin 
stands on its site. It had been improved by 
its commercial habits into a state oi civilisa- 
tion : its maanem were benign and hospita- 
ble; in it were centred all the trade and 
riches of the north ; the Greeks condescended 
to visit it ; and it contained everything thai 
was rare and luxurious. But there never ^as 
a people who were greater enemies of the 
Christian name: they exacted of all who 
wished to become citizens of their republic, 
that they should abjure Christianity. The 
principal god that they .worshipped, was 
called Trigiaff, or the three- headed god : by 
the middle head they imagined that heaven 
was protected ; by the right head, the earth ; 
and by the left head, the ocean. In the 
eleventh centur}' this famous Pagan republic 
was flourishing in full prosperity; but, in 
>U70, the city being taken and destro}'ed 
by Waldemar, king of Denmark, it*never 
recovered the blow; and with it expired 
Slavonian idolatry. W. G. C. 


The first Englishman who engaged in this 
nefarious traffic was Sir John Hawkins, who 
having, in 1502, fitted out three ships, sailed 
to the coast of Africa, where he attacked the 
defenceless negroes sword in hand; an^ 
having seised three hundred, carried them to 
Hispaniola, and sold them as slaves. He 
was afterwards appointed to one of the 
Queen's ships, to proceed on the same ad- 
venture ; but we are informed that Elisabeth 
supposed them to be taken away voluntarily, 
and transported to the Spanish colonies as 
labourers. She is said to have expressed her 
concern lest any of the Africans should be 
carried off without their free consent; in 
which case she declared, that it would be de* 
testable, and call down the vengeance of 
heaven upon the undertakers. It is stated 
by M. Labat, a Roman missionary, that 
Louis XIII. was persuaded to sanction sla- 
very in his colonies, as the only means of 
converting the negroes to Christianity. 



The following anecdote is related by Gibbon, 
in his account of the siege of Alexandria, by 
the Arabian army, under the command of 
Amrou, the conqueror of Egvpt :-^** In every 
attack on the city, the sword of Amrou glit- 



I0rad in the f«i^.Ql.l)M IdUnkflM. - On a iii«- 
inoMdile -day; 4t« Waff1>^hiy«il by his iiti|mi- 
dleat vigour : hi» followeni, who had entered 
the eitadt!l; wef^ dHv^ti hick ; and' Ihe gene* 
r*lv ^tlh^tf ftiebd ttb4 a i»kive, rc'mainiida' 
prii<mtir in^ Ihd'^hiui^' Hf ' tite > ChtwttaM. 
Wh^' AtMroli wRa dDiiAtifited Mmn the pte- ■ 
fkt^ - he* V«m«AnbeMil'' his^dif(iiity, ^ «»1 forgot i 
Mb •siffittton:''^ Mj^Metiietth(iuV« and 4r0«>-> 
Infe latij^uige, revealed' thcPli)»ufteiMibt Of the^ 
Oaliphj and the battltf^axe of ^a soldier #aa: 
f^adv railed to strfke off the head of the 
siidaicibascaptife:' <'Hb lil'e Ves saved by ^ 
tiM'Hiadideift of his-sU^e, #ho iMtantly gave 
yi««iiMeier a bUrn'on the ftc^, and com- 
'^ahded hito, in an ^asgjry lone; to be silent- 
ih^^lpteseiiee of his stipenon*. 'The ch^u** 
kkuli^Gfefek was-dee^ivedi he listened to the 
eiflTehi^ a tieaty, and hiapiieoaers were djs-' 
iniseed, In the^liepe ef a More respectable 
etnbessyy \till the joyful ' acclamations of 
liie Saracek) camp aauooneed the retiirn of 
tWr geneidL »ua insulted the folly of the 
etJDristiaas-'' W.G.C. 


Amu the cohquest of Esfhonia. and the cap- 
pu^ of the city of Revel, Peter the €hneat, 
having hail the enclotiures and fortiScatioas' 
repaired, erected a handsome palace in the 
Italian Htyle, to which there was attached ai 
large ple^re-ground. ' The Czar named 
thi» cnarmiug spot the valley of Catherine, 
in honour of his wife ; and being confident 
that neither himself or iUmily could derive 
much advantage from it, he intended the 
grounds as a place of recreation for the inha- 
bitants. Some years after, when the whole 
was completed, the Csar, with the Empress, 
went to reside at the castle. Surprised at 
not seeing any one walking in the park, he 
called a sentinel, and asked him the reason. 
The sentinel replied, that no person of any 
description was allowed to enter. ** Who 
gave that order ?** said the emperor. '< Our 
officers,** replied the soldier. " What stupi- 
dity !** said the emperor : *^ did they imagine 
that I had caused these extensive walks to 
be made for myself?" Next morning, it was 
proclaimed through the city, by beat of drum, 
that all the inhabitantn were allowed admis- 
sion into Caitherinen Thai, and that every one 
might go there for amusement ; the guards 
being only stationed there to prevent tumult, 
tind protect the trees and other objects from 
being injured. W. G. C. 

C|)e Copograpl^er. 


This noble aqueduct-bridge carries the EUes- 
mere Canal over the river Dee, at the bottom 
of Llangollen Vule, in Denbighshire. It 
waa ilNsigatd by the late Thorpas Telford, 

spl^idid structure of the kuid in Fuji^ . .Ipfc. 
exhibits an import«itt ias|irov^aen4 ji^^fsiii-' 
stniction of aqueducts, and wMJk^Mfr ooe'iedt 
theproudest triumphs of me(rht|Wf4Upg4iHt% 
over the, difficulties uf iuiant^ «^j|gatioi^ 

'It.shouljd hp ^misei,., ^M whp'tlifr 
course of a ipanal crosses titat of a ri|Wf,.lt,. 
becomes . nt^essary' to bjuild a briifg^j aM: 
lipon it, in place of a common road^ .to co^* 
struct a channel and towing-path for a ca^s . 
the heights of ttie a^iiedi^ct ^n$ imdateO;- 
by the relative Ksvels of .ihe fiver and eaM||||^ 
aind its breadth by that pf the canal* li i^ 
formerly usual to make tHe aqwediiet of eu^ 
a bread ill as to'a^mit the' cahi4 cfiadnel, ml 
its towing-path, to be cohtdruaed/ei^dbe^ 
w1io% of masonry, as in the, caae\of Oome.oC 
the frend^ a^iieducti^ ^or 'partly !of mutomtj 
aiid partly f>rpusldle, as .those biiilt on tfie, 
^Khglisii canali. In'theiie aqueducts, except* 
ing what irelates to a water-ligbi'baHin for 
the canal, there is littl^ d^erejncf^ from i^ 
road-bridge of similar 'diOMosifoiis. 

But, aboiit the year 179^, 'Mr. Thomas 
IVdford, havii»g been entrusted with the ioMf 
nagemeut of the Shrewsbury and EIIosmer« 
Canals, had his attention drawn to the coo- 
i^tmction of some latge aqueducts; an^ 
having observed,, in several instances, thi^ 
masonry of aqueducts where puddle was em- 
ployed, to be cracked^ and very subjeet to 
leakage, and some parts requisite to be taken 
down and rebuilt, or tied across by strong 
iron bars ; these circumstances led bur inde- 
fatigable engineer to^ consider the introduc- 
fion of cast-iron work. This he fimt-^at- 
tempted upon the EUesmere Canal, at Cterk, 
where the aqueduct is tiOO feet lon^, aad K 
feet high above the river: here he MJecM 
puddle, and built the spandrils over th^ , 
arches with longitudinal walls only ; acrose 
these walls, cast-iron flaunched plates were 
laid, as a bottom to the canal, and also for 
the purpose of binding the walls horisontal^ f 
the^ were well jointed, screwed, and caalked ; 
the sides of the water-channel were built ^itl| 
stone facings, and the brickheartihg laid 14 
frater>lime mortar. ' By this mode, the qua«. 
tity of masonry was much reduced, yet tbo 
vfhole was water-tight and substantial . 

About the same time, and on the sanw 
canal, it was found necessary to cross the 
river IXse, at the bottom of the celebrated val- 
ley of Llangollen, at Pontcysylte, and it wat 
found cheaper to aqueduct than to embank* 
Here Mr. Telford intnKluced a still more de^ 
cided deviation from the usual form, by buildr 
ing upright piers only, and, instead of asA- 
sonry arches, putting cast-iron ribs betwee» 
them; the canal part was also cbosfructe4 
with cast-iron flaunched plates fur the sidee 
as well aa the bottom ; and, in order to pro|> 
serve, aa much as possible, thi^ water-wa^, 
th»liwiey path was mada Ittipr^ct over M 



.(Pontey»ylte AqMeduct, North WalesO 

wai«r in tl^e eaoiah , The caniU part is twelve 
£QCt ii^ widtl^ which admits of boats of seven 
fMbea^ and a toirin^-palli., The height 
Q^ fj\<t <ieittiraj.pie^, a,bove the 8iirfa4;e of the 
rivec is 126 l«et,ei|^ht inches ; the number of 
iifcli|ei| is OAJQetet!!); and the length of jtbe 
iiqueduct is J ,6o7ieet. Where the embank- 
inenl commences} ^he.heiglit is 7^ '^t ;. but 
ffravtfUy materiHl being very convenient » ren- 
^n^ emhankiog cheaper than carrying the 
masonry at^.irott'work any further : the.em- 
ba^kmept IS 1,500 feet in length.. 

What' a scene of natural, and romantic 
^{^ndour Ues AUtspre^d beneath and beside 
this great work.of^ human art. Iq picturesque 
beaiity,' few portions o^ Wales are comparable 
with the vale of I^angellen. It has been 
much celebrated from'the^steep banks on the. 
south side of the Dee ; by the, Oswestry road 
to Langollen, the vale is seen to great advan- 
tage, the river winding in elegant courses 
along thtp wooded mea<low beneath ; and the 
prospect of it from its mouth also, where it 
sinks into the^ plain ot Salop, towards its. 
pomme.ncement, is uncommonly striking^ 
althoiigh some of its most beautiful scenes 
haye a formal range of liinestone rocks on 
the north-west. Nor must the adjoining vale 
of Grucis be forgotten, surrounded by high 
m>untainsi ami clad at the sides, and bottom 
with wood and Verdure, with the veneiable 
ruins of Valle Crucis Abbey, embowered ii| 
the solitude of trees. Happy, happy scenes 
of rural quiet are these; and their interest is 
not impaired by association with the Aque« 
duct of Pohtcysylte. 

The above details of this vast work have 
been abridged from the Edinburgh Encydor 
psedia ; but their, incompleteness makes us 
regret the delay of Mr. Telford's Account of 
his priacipai Wurka, the MS. of which he 
ebmpkted for ipubtication a shoft time pi^ 

v;ious to hit iamented death* Of, fliii . tndy; 
greats man, (for men sh^uld^ be ranked in. 
proportion to their labours.) it: has been well, 
said: *' his various works are cfUi8|)ici|ons; 
ornaments to the country, and speak for; 
themselves, as the mo^ durable monuinent of 
a we]il*earned fame : Jn number, magnitudey; 
and usefulness, they are too intimatehr con-.' 
nected with the prosperity of the British 
]^ple to be overlooked, or forgotten in future 
times ; and the name pf Tdford must re- 
main permanently associated with that re., 
markable progress of piiblic improvem^t^ 
which has.distii]^ished the age in which he 


[Wb have purposely left this conehiding 
portion, the most interesting of the whole 
work, for analysis and quotation iti our 
current volume. The untiring character 
of its contents, and . the fond concern Which 
readers of every dass take in the well>0iimed 
fame, and untarnished reputation, of Scottj 
have induced us to this postponement, rather 
than a hasty glance at the dosing narrative 
of this truly great man's ** good fight." It 
is, indeed, a chequered picture of clouds and 
sunshine, and mortal gloom, succeeded by 
the brightness of immortal hope. The vo- 
lume commences with extracts from Scott's 
Diary, in the winter of 1826-7, which present 
but gloomy recohls of the writer's bodily suf- 
feriDffs,— <?. g. :] 

" December J6.~ Another bad night. I 
remember I used to think a slight iUnees 
was a luxurious thing. My pillow was then 
softened by the hand of afiection, and the 
Uttlie cares put in exercise to soothe the Ian- 



{i^Dr or pain, were more flattering aud pleat- 
ing thnn the consequences of the illness 
were disagreeable. It was a new scene to 
be watcheid and attended, and I used to 
think that the malade imaginaire gained 
something by his humour. It is different 
in, the latter stages — the old post-chaise 
gets more shattered and out of order at every 
turn ; windows if ill not be pulled up, doors 
refuiie to open, or, being open, will not shut 
again — which last is rnther my case. There 
is some new subject of complaint every 
moment — your sicknesses come thicker 
and thicker — your comforting and sympa- 
tMxing friends fewer and fewer: for why 
■l^ould they soiprow for the course of nature ? 
The recollection . of youth, health, and unin- 
terrupted powers of activity, neither improved 
nor enjoyed, is a poor strain of comfort. 
T^ie best is, the long halt will arrive at 
la^t, and cure all. This was a day of labour, 
agreeably varied by a pain, 'which tetiderM 
it scarce possible to sit upright. Hy journal 
IS getting a vile, chirurgical aspect I begin' 
to be amiid of the odd consequences com- 
plaints in the post eqmtem are said to pro- 
duce. I shall tire of my journal. In my 
better dnys I had stories to tell ; but death 
has closed the long dark avenue upon loves 
and friendships, and I look at them as 
tl^rongh the grated door of a burial-place, 
filled with monuments of those who were 
once dear to me, with no insincere wish that 
it may open for me at no distant period, 
provided such be the will ot God. My 
pains were those of the heart, and had some- 
thing flattering in their character ; if in the 
head, it was trom the blow of a bludgeon, 
gallantly received, and well paid back. I 
think I shall not live to the usual verge of 
human existence; I shall never see the 
threescore and ten, and shall be summed 
up at a discount. No help for it, and no 
matter either." 

[The following reflection upon youthful 
companions it very characteristic :] 

*'' In youth we have many companions, 
few friends, perhaps ; in age oompanionship 
is ended, except rarely, and by appointment. 
Old men, by a kind of instioct, seek younger 
associates, who listen to their stories, honour 
their gray hairs while present, and mimic 
and laugh at them when their backs are 
timied. At least, that was the way in our 
day, and I warrant our chicks of the present 
broo«l crow to the same tune.'' 

[Ai also this note upon what are usually 
called <* family parties:''] 
- 'Mt must • be allowed that the regular 
recurrence of annual festivals among the 
iam^ individuals has, is life advances. Some- 
thing in it that is melancholy. We meet 
hke the burvivors of some |>ertlout expedition, 
wounded and weakened mirseltes, and look- 
ing through diminished rauka to think of 

tliose who tire no more. Or they are lik» 
the feasts of the Caribs, in which they held 
that the pale and speechless phantoms of 
the deceased appeared and mingled with the 
living. Yet where shall we fly from vain 
repining?— or why should we give up the 
comfort of seeing our friendt, because they 
can no longer be to us, or we to them, what 
we once were to each other ?" 

[Again, the gaiety of youth in the present 

'< I do not think the young people of ih|t 
age so gay at we were. There is a turn for 
persiflage, a fear of tidicule among them, 
which stifles the honest emotions of gaiety 
and lightness of spirit; and people, when 
they^ give in the least to the expansion of 
their natural feelings, are always kept under 
by the fear of becoming ludicrous. To re- 
strain your feelings and check your enthu- 
siasm in the cause even of pleasure, is -now 
a-hite among ^leople of ^hion, us much as 
it used to be among phibsophers.** 

[The next entry is odd enough H 

'* Edinburgh, January 15.— Off we came, 
and, in despite of rheumatism, I got throuj^h 
the jjourney tolerably. Coming through Ga- 
lashiels, we met the Laird of Torwoodlee, 
who, on hearing how long I had been con- 
fined, asked how I bore it ; observing that he 
had once in his life — ^Torwoodlee must be 
betv^een sixty and seventy — been confined 
for five days to the house, and was like to 
hang himself. I regret Gk)d*s free air as 
much as aqy man, but I could amuse myself 
were it in the Bastile." 

[llie following shows the progress of the 
Life of Napoleon, at which Scott was now 
working hard :] 

« February 19.— Very cold weather. What 
says Dean Swift ?— 

' When frost and snow come both together, 
~ Then sit by the fire and sa^ shoe-leather.* 

I read and wrote at the bitter account of the 
French retreat from Moscow, in 1812, tiU 
tile little room and coal-fire seemed snug by 
comparison. I felt cold in its rigour in my 
ehilahood and boyhood, but not since. In 
youth and middle life I was yet less sensible 
to it than now — but I remember thinking it 
worse than hunger. Uninterrupted to-day, 
and did eight leaves.''* 

[In March, Scott returned to Abbotsfbrd^ 
but with chailgeful spirits, as these tinee 
fh)m two entries, March 21 —26, show :] 

^ There it a touch of the old spirit iu me 
yet, that bids me brave the temped, — the 
spirit that, in spite of manifold infirmities, 
made me a roaring boy in my youth, a des- 
iderate climber, a bold rider, a deep drinker, 
and a stout pla^r at single-stick ; of all which 
valuable qualities thiere are now but slender 

* One page of his MS. antwers to tnm four to 
flye of the closely-printed pages of tlie original edi- 
ticm uf his Buonaparte. 


remains. I worked hard when I came in, 
aud finished five pages.** 

*' The greatest happiness I could think of, 
ifould be to be rid of the world entirely. 
Excepting my own family, I have little plea- 
sure in the world, less business in it, and am 
heartily careless about all its concerns.** 

[Here are more of the bitter fancies of 
dismal melancholy :] 

*' What is this world ? — a dream within a 
dream — as we grow older, each step is an 
awalcening. The youth awakes, as he thinks, 
from childhood— the full-grown man des- 
pises the pursuits of youth as visionary — the 
old man looks on manhood as a feverish 
dream. The grave the last sleep ? No ; it 
is the last and final awakening. 
; *' O God I what are we ?— Lords of Na- 
ture ? — Whv, a tile drops from a house-top, 
which an elephant would not feel more than 
{lie fall of a i<heet of pasteboard, and there 
Ties his lordship ! Or something of incon- 
ceivably minute origin, the pressure of a 
bone, or the inflammation of a particle of the 
brain takes place, and the emblem of the 
t>eity destroys himself or some one else. 
We hold our health and our reason on terms 
slighter than one would desire, were it in 
iheir choice, to hold an Irish cabin.*' 

[The mention of Scott presenting the 
editor of the Foreign Review with a paper 
worth ^100, leads Mr. Lockliart to relate :] 
. .That vhen he wiote his first article for the 
fineycJopedia Supplement, and the editor of 
that work, Mr. Macvey Naiiier, (a Whig in 
^litics, and with whom he had hardly any 
{Mfrsonal acquaiotanoe,) brought him j6100 
•a his remunefiatiob, Sir Walter said, ^ Now, 
tell me fioaokly, if I don't take this money, 
ioes it go into your .pocket or your pub- 
Usher's; for it is imposaible for me to accept 
Ik peony of it ikem a Utenary brother.** Mc 
Jiibpier aanired him that tke arrangements ef 
tlMB work were such, that the editor had 
AOthiog to do with the fund destined for 
fiontributions : — Scott then pocketed his due, 
with the observation, that ** he had trees to 
A^aot, and no conscience as to the purse of 
his fat friend;**— to wit, Coostable. 

[It was in this season, }997, at a theatri- 
^ dinner, in Editfburgh, at which Scott 
•A^rMided, that the authorship of the Waverley 
-Novels was first divulged }ay Lord M«adow- 
%ank. In the entry of this event, Sir Wdlter 
luM -left a few simple rules of presidency for 
the benefit of posterity : J 

** 1st. Always hurry the bottle round for 
five or six rounds, without prositlg yourself 
or permitting others to prtfSe. A slight 
'^ip of wine indities people to b^ pleased, 
*irn4 reinoves the nervousness whidh prevents 
Iti^ from sjieakin^^-HJisposes them, in short, 
to be amusing, audYo be amused. 

•< Slid. Pttsh on,kfeep Inoviiig! as'lToung 

Rapid says.* Do not think of saying Bne 
things— nobody cares for them any more 
than for fine music, which is often too .libe- 
rally bestowed on such occasions. Speak at 
all ventures, and attempt the mot wour rire. 
You will find people satisfied wiih wonder- 
fully iinlifferent jokes, if you can but hit the 
taste of the company, which depends much 
on its character. Even a very high party, 
primed with all the cold irony and non est tdnti 
feelings, or no feelings of fashionable folks, 
may be stormed by a jovial, rough, round, 
and ready preses. Choose vour text with 
discretion — the sermon may oe at you like. 
Should a drunkard or an ass break in with 
any thing out of joint, if you can parry it 
with a jest, good and well— if not, do not 
exert ]^our serious authority, unless it is 
something very bad. The authority even of 
a chairman ought to be very cautiously exer« 
cised. With patience, you will have the 
support of every one. 

** 3rd. When you have dnmk a few glasses 
to play the good- fellow, and banish modesty 
— (if you are unlucky enough to have such a 
troublesome companion) — then beware of the 
cup too much. Nothing is so ridiculous as a 
drunken preses. 

'< Lastly, always wpeak short, and Skeoch 
doch na skiel— cut a tale with a drink. 
* This is th» purpose an4 intent 
Of gude Schir Walter's testimeDt.* "f 

[Mr. Lockhart adds a note on the Waver- 
ley secret so well kept ;] 

The reader may, {mrhaps, expect that I 
should endeavour to name the *' upwards of 
twenty persons ** whom Sir Walter alluded to 
on this occasion as having been put into the 
secret of the Waverley Novels, previously, 
and without reference, to the catastrophe of 
1826. I am by no means sure that I can 
give the complete list; but, in addition to 
the immediate members of the author's own 
family^including his mother and his bro- 
ther Thomas) — there were Constable, Cadell, 
the two Ballantynes, Terry, Laidlaw, Mr. 
Train, and Mr. G. H. Gordon; Charles, 
Duke of Buccleuch, Lady Louisa Stuart, 
Lord Montagu, Lord and Lady Polwarth, 
Lord Cinnedder, Sir Adam Ferguson, Mr. 
Monritt, Mr. and Mrs. Skene, Mr. Wdliam 
Clerk, Mr. Hay Donaldson, Mr. John Rich- 
ardson, and Mr. Thomas Moore. 

[There is much charity and kind-hearted- 
ness in these notes from the entries of the 
deaths of the Duke of York, and Gifibrd — 
two very opposite characters.] 

^* The Duke of York was uniformly kind 
io me, and though I never tasked his friend* 
ship, yet I find a powerful friend is gone. 

• Morton's comedv at A Curs for the Heart-Ache, 

f Sir Walter parodies the conclusion of Klo^ Ro- 

(bect the Bnibe*s ** Ifavims, or Political Testament." 

.See H^es's Annals, >i,c> 13]1»— or Fordnn's ticoti- 

chronlcon. — XH. 10. 



Hill f irtues were honour, cood .sense, inte- 
grity ; and by exertion of tne§e (qualities, he 
raised the British army from a very low ebb, 
to be the pride and dread of Europe. His 
eitora were those of a sanguine and social' 
temper-^he could not resist the temptation of 
deep play, which was fatally allied with a 
disposition to the Ixittle. This hist is iuct-. 
dent to his complaint, which vinous inftuence 
soothes for the time, while it insiduously 
increases it in the end." 

** January 17- — I observe in the papers, 
my old friend GHfibrd's funeral. He was a 
man' of rare atUinroeuts and many excellent 
qitaKties. His Juvenal is one of the best 
venions 6ver made of a classical author, and 
MssKtireof ttie Baviad and Mflsviad squa- 
bashed at 6ne blow a set of coxcombs, who 
ni^t ' have humbugged the worid loni^ 
enotu^h. As a commentator he was capital, 
could he but have suppressed his rancours 
against those who had preceded him in th^ 
task; but a misconstruction or misinterpret 
tafion, nay, the misplacing of a comma, was, 
in CKflbrd's eyes, a crime worthy of the most 
severe animadversion. This same ' fault of 
extrettee severity went through his criticAf 
labours, and in general he ilagettated with so 
little pity, that people lost thdr sense of th^ 
criminal's guilt in dislike of the savage plea- 
sum which the executtouer Seemed to taxe in 
inflicting the punishment. This 'lack of 
temper ptobalily arose from indiffiuent health, 
for he was very valetudinary. He was a little 
mMi, dumpled up together, and so ill mad^ 
as to seem almost d^brmed, but with a sin- 
guler expression of talent in his countenancel 
Though so little of an athlete, he nevertheless 
beat o£P Dr. Woloot, when that celebrated 
person, the nrost tuuparing calumniator of 
his time, chOse to be offended with Qifford 
for satirising him in his turn. Peter Pindar 
made a most vehement attack, but Giffi>rd 
had the best of the affray, 4nd remained, I 
think, in trinmphaiit possession of the field 
of action, and of the assailant's cane. G. 
had one singular custom. He used always 
to have a duenna of a housekeeper to sit in 
Iris study whh him while he wrote. This 
female companion died when I was in Lon- 
don^ and his distress was extreme. 1 after- 
Weids heard he got her place supplied. I 
believe there was no scandal in all this." 

[The Diary from Feb. 21, takes a lively 
interest in the ministerial changes consequei^ 
i||^ tb^.death of I^ord- Liverpool, in which 
i% » tOlecaUy sharp c^nion of Canning. 
The completion of Napoleon, and the happy 
thought of Tales of a Grandfather, ieure mo^e 
itttedisting matters. Perhaps, the rank of 
the Napoleon is somewhttt higMy rated in 
Mr. Loekhait's summary :] 

rThe life of Buonaparte was at last pub- 
iMbed about the middle of June^ 1827. Two 
years hwi elapsed since Scoti b^[;aii it; twit 

by a careful comparison of dates, I hav«^ 
arrived at the conclusion thait, his expeditions' 
to Ireland and Paris, and the composition pf" 
navels and critical miscellanies being dulv 
allowed for, the historical task occupied 
hardly more than twelve months. The lK>ok 
was closely printed; in fact, those nind 
volumes contain as much letter-press as' 
Waveriey, Guy Mannering, the Antiquary.^ 
the Monastery, and the Legend of Hontrose, 
all put fogtether. If it had been printed on 
the original nioilel of those novels, the JJift 
Of Buonaparte Would have filled from thir* 
teen to fourteen voltnnes ; ~the work of one 
twelvemopth-^done in the midst of paiun, 
sorrow, and rbin. 

The magnitude of tho theoM, anid the 
copious detail with' whidi it was treated; 
appear to have frightaied the critics of the; 
time. None Of our great Reviews grappled 
with the book at all ; nor am I so presump- 
tuous as to undertake what they ihrunk 

The lofty impartiality with which ScotI 
treats the personal character of Buonaparte 
was, of course, sure to make aH ultra-politi- 
ciails, at home and abroad, condemn his 
representation; and an equally general and 
better fbunded exception was taken to the 
lavish imagerv of his historical style. He 
despised the former clamour — ^to the latter h» 
bowed submissivoi He could not, whatever 
diaracter he niight wish to assume, cease to 
be one of the greatest of poets. Metapho- 
rical illustrations, which men bom with prose 
in their souls hunt for painfully, and find 
only to murder, were to him the natural and 
necessary offspring and playthings of ever<> 
teeming fancy. He could not write a note 
to his printer— ho could not speak to himself 
in his Diary — without introducing theim 
Few will say that his historical style is, oA 
the whole, excel]ent<— none, that it is perfect; 
but it is completely unafibcted, and theiefbfe 
excites nothing of the un{deasant feelings 
with which we consider the elaborate arti- 
fices of a fkr greater historian — ^the gpreateit 
that our literature can boast — Giblxm. The 
rapidity of the execution infers many inaccu^ 
racies as to minor matters of tact ; out it is 
nevertheless true that no inaccuracy in the 
smallest degree affecting the character of the 
book as a &r record of greal esents, has to 
this hour been detected even by the malevo* 
lent ingenuity of Jaoobin<-aBd' Beonapartist 
pamphmteefA" B^we the most Jiestileetaeil- 
ners were obliged to acknewledco' thai* tlie 
^giHltiO esreer of their idol had Seen tsaoid^ 
m its leading features, with wonderful -tretll^ 
and spirit No civilian, it was imiv^HSl^ 
admitted, had ever before described modOns^ 
battles and campaigns with any approadi t^ 
his daring and comprehenaive ielicitk Tlie 
public, ever' unwiHing^ ^ tonoede B^/mm^e^' 
cies of honour te a naaie aliea^ tovend' 



ifHtb dittindton, listened eagerly for a while to 
i^ mdi)(nant feclamatioas of nobodiet, whote. 
miare in mighty traniactiont had been omit- 
tody or slightly misrepresented ; but, ere bug,' 
an these, pompous rectifications were summed 
np^ and found to constitute nothing but a 
contemptible monument of self-deluding ya- 
nity. The work, devoured at first with 
breathless delight, had a shade thrown over 
it for a time by the pertinacious blustering of 
these angry Lilliputians; but it has now 
efserged, slowly and surely, from the mist of 
suspicion— and few, whose opinions deserve 
much Attention, hesitate to avow their convic- 
tioA that, whoever may be the Polybius of 
the modern Hannibal, posterity will recognise 
Ilia lAvy in Soott.' 

Woodstock.' as we have seen, placed up- 
wards of ,^.000 in the hands of Sir Walter*s 
creditors. The Napoleon (first and second 
editions) produced for thjMn a sum which it 
even now startles «e to meution—j^ 18,000. 
As by' the time the historical work wai pub> 
liefaed, nearly half of the First Series of Clwo- 
nidea ol the Canongate had been written, it 
ia obvious that the amount to which Scott's 
literaiy industry, from the close of 1825, to 
the 10th of June, 1827> had diminished his 
debt, cannot be stated at less than ^28,000. 
Had health been spared him, how soon must 
he have freed himself from all his encum- 
brances ! 

The Chronicles of the Canongate proceeded 

C" f'jMEMW with these hintorical tales; and 
h works were published before the end of 
the year. He also superintended, at the* 
same time, the first collection of his Prose 
Miscellanies, six volumes 8vo. — several arti- 
cles being re-modelled and extended to adapt 
them for a more permanent sort of existence 
than had been originally thought oC More- 
over, Sir Walter penned, that autumn, his 
beautifid and instructive |>aper on the Fiaat- 
iag of Waste Lands, which i«, indeed, no 
other than a precious chapter of his autobio- 
graphy, for the Quarterly Review. What he 
wrote of new miatter between June and 
December, fills from five to six volumes in 
the late uniform edition of his works; but 
aU thif was light aud easy after the perilous 
dnidgety of the pteceding eighteen months. 


Ws may fairly congrattdate ouiaelves upon 
the attractions which are at this moment 
concentrated upon 1/he stage of the Italian 
Opera. Whateve/improvements the ballet, 
aa a general repreaentation, may be siiscep- 
tible o£, it wotud be impossible to heighten 
the graces which are imparted to it by Tag- 
ttoni and the Elslers. 

Tha fine arts, observes Lord Kaimes, al- 
IndtDg to the analysis of the Beautiful, are a 

aubject of reasoning aa well a$ of taste. But 
we stispect that it woukl have pusxled his 
lordship to resi^on about the dancing of 
Taglioni. Tet Tagliouits fortn and motions 
suggest the most exquisite images df beauty, 
and seem to realize an ideal of which every 
oue has had a vague conception, but which 
was never reduced to tangible outlines be- 
fore. It is a thing to set us dreaming rather 
than reasoning, — to carry us into a world 
of spiritual Fancies, ont of the world of 
Thoui^hts. Between Taglioni and the EUlen 
there IS no point of comitarison. They are 
essentially unlike each other; yet it is an un- 
like^iess that wears a siuguUr asped of re* 
semblance. The difference is wide and 
mai:ked, and cannot be mistaken ; yet it ia 
not less obvious than the similarity, althoun^' 
the one is easily explained, and the other is 
inexplicable. lu Taglioni there b an a«riel 
simplicity, a purity of taste, and an involun- 
tary grace, that contrast strikingly with the 
voluptuous energy, the poetical licence, and 
startling grandeur of the Elslers: the dove 
and the eagle are not more oppo(<ite— yet we 
are affected by them, not in the same de« 
giee nor in the same Way, but so profoundly, 
that we unconsciously associate the influences 
by which our impressions are produced. 

The step and mien of Taglioni are as soft 
and tbuchinfj^ as the beatific visions of some 
of our old samts. Fortunate for the ancho* 
rites that such visions vanished with Hieir 
sleep! Had the angels, that viaited their 
slumbers, lingered in their cells in suck 
shapes, the world would have lost some of 
their fine treatises on dogmatic theology and 
ghostly inflictions. Taglioai's elasticity is 
even more remarkable than" that of the 
Elslers, because it is pot so apparent. We 
are not made aware of it by any effort to dis- 
play it. She floats like a t>lush of light be* 
fore our eyes : we cannot perceive the subtle 
means by which she contrives, as it were, 
to disdain the earth, and to deliberate her 
charming motions in the air. Whichever 
way she turns, there is an expression of. 
beauty — a figure, which, cotdd it lie fixed in 
any of its pmises, would convey an eiisbodied 
Sentiment to the imagination. Her dance 
ia an Acted Poem, sparkling with inmges, 
which, reduced to words, would resembte the 
brilliant conceits of Carew or Suckling; but 
which, in this tangible and fugitive khape, 
take an appropriate and congenial ^ilace, in- 
vulnerable to criticism. She achieves tba 
office of wiugps, without their incumbrance. 
Her sweetness and gentleness have a wooing 
tone, which breathes from her with no more 
external appearance than the aroma from 
flowers. There are no languishing arts in 
her manner, yet she somt times seems to fade 
away, like a gossamer caiessed by the winds. 
There is this peculiarity in Taglioni^— that 
you can describe her only through the-< 



tioM the cauiet. You cannot aepuate her 
from them, and paint a portiait ; hut must 
eipbelHsh it with the accessories that, spring- 
ing out of your own sensations, appear to be 
essential to the truth. She, has something 
of the effect of a tradition from the East, in- 
tested with spells and inspired with fairy 
gifts ; a legend of miracles to which you 
willingly subscribe ; a delicious fiction, re- 
created in life, and rendered a thousand tiines ■ 
more fascinating than before, by the vital 
warmth suffused throughout its articulation. 

Theresa Elsler suggests at once the notion 
of one of the Titanesque Graces. Her proud 
crest seems to aspire to the clouds, which 
dissolve before the dainty majesty of her 
hiow. Fanny KUler is the miniature of this 
fine reality, with a multitude of smaller 
beauties that play round her like a halo. 
The scale of her execution is reduced, but her 
style is tlie same, glittering with more mi* 
uute and dazzling points, that would be lost 
in the loftier stature of her sister. In both,, 
the visible presence of stren^h is deprived of 
its physical coarseness by mefiable compo- 
sure, aud that certainty of movement which 
softens it into a sense of ease. This great 
power and command of action gives extraor-. 
dlnary luxuriance and freedom to the mar- 
vellous evolutions of the dance. The mobt 
rapid changes and picturesque attitudes, ac- 
complished at the very extremity of muscular 
effort, are thus effected without awakening 
a passing distrust of their complete fulfil- 
ment ; so that a series of brilliant measures, 
which, attempted by others, would be no 
more than feats of gymnastic skill, are thus 
achieved with a f^ing of inexpressible 
beauty. Their intertwining action is a tri- 
umph of art. Every turn has a regularity 
and completeness which, apart from its pic- 
turesque associations, dispose it into such 
perfect combinations, that invention can add 
nothing to its consummate grace. The in- 
cessant variety of their motions, — the novelty 
that constantly grows up out of their steps, 
which have a blinding lustre in their rapi- 
dity, — ^fill the eyes with flashing rays, like the 
perpetual circles that chase each other in 
some of the freaks of the phantasma. The 
slightest speck of resting-place suffices to 
sustain their gyrations ; and they almost seem 
to realise the fabulous capacity of the angels, 
crowding on the point of a needle. In the 
dances of the Elslers there is a strict rhythm, 
which at once captivates the ear. They as- 
cend and descend, advance and retreat, soar 
and flutter, with the punctuality of notes de^ 
livered in accurate time. When their feet 
press the ground, they may be said to ex- 
press music from their touch. Their stately 
bearing sheds over their performances an 
abiding charm, that dignifies even those 
hiilliaut surprises which suinutimes break in 
upon their loftier muvenuuts, like sunny 

faces smiling suddenly upon U9 in soUtiide^ 
and vanishiog as fast as they appear. They ^ 
have originated a new era m their art, «nd, 
forme<l a style which is not inerely new^ biit^ 
which demands so many various qualities or. 
excellence, that it is hardly too much to say.' 
that it is inimitable. — Monthly Chronicle, 


In good time ; and having in our tum---fQr < 
there was a crowd of applicants — paid t^-. 
guinea a^piece for ourselves, and fourteeO) 
shilUngs fot the servant, for which we ror. 
ceived tickets, numbering hoth our carriage, 
and the particular seat which we w^&» tO' 
occupy, we went forthwith to the train — i* e. 
a series of the bodies — as they seemed— oC- 
handsome and commodious stage- coaches^ 
hooked together— say fourteen of them— each 
containing ample room fi»r six passengersy- 
the seats being separate, and whieh^ heintf. 
also numbered^ secured regularity and a gooa ^ 
understanding as to their righU among the' 
passengers. This circumstance'! learnt thns i 
-^" Sir, I beg your pardon/' said a gentlo-i 
man, entering, and looking at me afiid the ; 
seat I had chosen, ^ but / am eiglity." 

« ReaUy, sir, I doh't understand,'' I vei>: 
plied, witik. a smile, and great suprlse; 
** what if you are eighty ?— you don't ^iso^r . 
as much." 

" Oh, my seat is number 80— that's aU,** . 
he rejoined, smiling in his turn, and pointing - 
to the number, which glittered in brats letr ^ 
ters immediately over me. 
. Of course, I immediately surrendered my. 
seat, and took one near the window. Thi« 
matter settled, I was getting out to look- 
about m^ for a moment, when I heard the . 
sound of a trumpet, and, in a moment, afteari 
saw a ponderous structure roll slowly and 
hissing past ;«-it was the engine, just taken . 
out of hia shed, and going to be attached to > 
the train. He here tl^ startling name, 
<' SuuwGo," in large gold letters, on his 
flank, and looked quite splendid in hie' 
polished brass atd steel. He cacried hie* 
food and water after him ! Preseetly ouv : 
tickets were called lor ; then a man went' 
along from carriage to carriage, carefully 
fasten ing th$) . doorsj^and aj\|utstiAg* the han« 
dies safely, while another 'placed palm- 
oil on the ifr heels. There was Aone.of the 
noise, aud bustle ordinarily attending Xht^z 
starting of a stage-coach ; on the contrary, 
all was quiet and methodical. Again thu 
trumpet sounded ; and jusd at eight o'clock 
we felt u gentle motion, uoiseieiiS withal, and 
found that we had commenced our journt^^ 
but as slowly as we could well move at first. 
Gradually we quickened our speed till we 
had got fair^ on our way^ and were clear of 
all interruption, when we certainly " went 

TUK MiRHQljl. 


i/i€ pacer I lei. down the gUsi and put out 
my head to see this length and appearance of 
the train, but quickly withdrew it ; for, what 
with the sleet, and the draught occasioned by 
the rapidity with which we were passing 
through the bitterly cold air, it was uuplea- 
sant enough. The motion was pretty uni- 
form — geutle, slightly vibrating, with now 
and then a jerk ; we could have written all 
the way we went. So long as we looked 
only at distant objects, we did not seem to 
be going* much quicker than in a fast stage- 
coach ; but as soon as we looked at any thing 
nearer— at the fence of the railroad, for in- 
stance — we became instantly sensible of the 
prodigious rapidity of our motion. It was 
really paiciful to look down for a minute to- 

We stopped once in about every twelve or 
fifteen miles at- " Stations" in order to give 
off, or take in, passengers, as also to let our 
good Siruccu drink — (a rare draught, merry 
monster ! was his— a hogshead at least \) — 
and feed, when he snapped up several sacks 
of coals, apparently with great relish. What 
a digestion must be his ! Well may his breath 
l>e hot, and his system feverish ! He generally 
panted a little at starting and stopping, but 
it soon passed off, and he ran the remainder 
of his journey without any {^parent effort or 

The word ** explosion" flitted oftener 
through my thoughts, I must confess, than I 
could have wished, and always occasioned a 
momentary tremour, especially when my 
fancy would fly forward, and image forth 
some such pleasant paragraph as — *' Fright- 
ful Accident and Loss of Lives on the Li- 
verpool and Birmingham Itailroad, fyc. — 
Boiler burst, &c. &c. ; engine-man blown to 
atoms, his remains faUirig at several fields' 

For about twelve miles we went at the 
rate of at least forty miles an hour ! To prove 
the very great rapidity with which we were 
flying along : — there was not a breath of air 
when we started from one of the stations; 
in a few minutes* time, happening to put my 
bead ttirough the window for a moment, I 
seemed to encounter a hurricane, and yet 1 
obeer!^ that the small branches of the trees 
near the road-side did not move in the least. 
In order to show how matters stood, I 
fastened one end of my poeket-handkerchief 
roand my finger, and put my hand outside.— 
when the handkerchief instantly flew and 
flattered along, crackling like a pennant at 
a mast-head in a strong wind. Indeed, I 
was very nearly losing it. It was really 
painful to the eyes to look out a-head, the 
draught of air was so strong ; and it was 
dizzy work to look down immediately upon 
the road,. and see the velocity with which 
we pnssed over it. Object after olject — 
rail*, post9, trees, <fec , glanced like light as 

we shot past them. On one occasion I had 
just thrust my head out, when something 
huge, black, tremendous, rushed hissing 
close past me, within a few inches of my 
face, and I fell back in my seat as if I had 
been shot. It was another train which was 
coming in the opposite direction. After 
only a few moments' pause, I looked out 
after it, but I protest it was almost out of 
sight. ^ At one place there were several 
horses in a field near the road, all of whom, 
affrighted at our ' monstrous appearance, 
galloped off, except one, who remained 
behind, looking at us, I could imfigine, 
with a sad air ; possibly repeating to liim« 
self the words of our great poet— 

" O. larewttU, 

Farewell the neighiug steed I 
And. oh, you mortal engines ! — 
Farewell, Othello'a occaiMitloD*! gone I** 

When we had considerably abated onr 
speed, I observed a droll evidence of the 
rapidity with which we were still travelling. 
A good-sized dog suddenly popped out of a 
shed on the roadside, end literally ran a 
race with us for about two minutes, evi- 
dently as fast ns he could lay his feet to the 
ground: but 'twas in vain; he could not 
keep a-breast of the carriage opposite to 
which he had started ; but carriage after 
carriage quickly passed him, till the whole 
train ^t a-head of him, when he stopped— 
a mere speck in the ranidly-increasing dis- 
tance. This is certainly quick work, but 
why should we not go far quicker ? Why 
not a hundred miles an hour ? What is to 
prevent it, except the increased danget 
arising from any possible interruption 
or obstacle, or the expense of increased 
wear and tear ? I was told that, not more 
than a month before, an experimental trip' 
was made on the same line of road by some 
engineer, with only one carriage attached to 
the engine, and they went seventy miles in 
one hour ! We had to go through a tunnel 
on reaching the confines of Liverpool, and 
which passes directly under the town. The 
engine was detached from the train on 
arriving at the month of the tunnel, and a 
rope, or ropes, attached in its place — but I 
did not see the process — by which we were 
to be drawn through the whole length of 
the tunnel I It was dreary enough work, 
plunged as we we were, instanter, out 
of broad daylight into black Cimmerian 

" Shat up from outward light. 
To iDcorporate with gloomy night.** 

A lamp here and there shed its pallid, cir- 
cumscribed light over the damp low sides 
and roof of the tunnel, which is very narrow, 
and so long, that if you pat your head 
through the window yon could not see light 
at either extremity — at least only as a kind 
of speck. And there we were labouring 
heavily along, not at our former speed; 



nothing hmng heard but the dutl rnmUing 
noise of the wheehi i^n the ftiilii, hnd the 
mpoun striking to raw and eotd, that we 
were foi^eed to cloaef the'winijiow ; ' ^rtieri 
divers jpftMni.ihbu'gh^ ci^ob^d^ my tnind; 
Soppoee some! accident shiiald happen to 
at^jQst then! * Th^ tnhnel fall in, and 
bring half Liverpool about bw eari— we 
should iiot be' dog out in less than three 
years' time, if any one had cnridsity enough 
to set ab6ut such a task. Suppose some of 
the queer invisible mechanism by which we 
were drawri along sh<Vuld give* way — in ihortj 
Aow I hate tukn^lsl ' especially tunnels a 
mile and a quarter in length ! 

Right glad was I when, after an eight 
minutes' incarceration' in pitch- darkness— 
and six hours nnd a KalPs journey ffom Bir- 
roiftghamr— ft much loiifr^r one .than uimnl— 
we eitieTged into the d^ar . daylighjk again, 
when iKe train ,^toppf^d. at a l^uds^ma and 
commodious alfltion,.jifhere were numerous 
potters ^atrd flys awaiting out l*?"?!?**!*. We 
^ot into one of Ihe Uitat, yrit,}^ our IjUggage, 
ma Irice— hanng to encountjBr.i)0;pes.ter>pg 
^bout gratuiLied/^c,j on quitting. the train» 
• circumstance which; almost, alwaya throws 
fi'dash of unpjeatantniess iqtp the close.of a 
stfige-<;oach Jpurney. ; livery thing.wfa:? the|| 
«s silent and ayatrauitic as it had Ijieen oq 
our starting at'Birmingha^:~JSAr<r^^V 
Magazine. ; ,■ • ;-' ^ .■•;• .j . . • - . fi 

MouaeHc ^^.^A)thpugh ^thje. m.onastic 
life may JijUf^ly^. blamed;, i^ndthf; learning 
of the n^r^k is often (Ieeme4 usjsUss/ yf t i^ 
ii^ to. the former .we owe flniost fvfiry: tiding 
connected with literntur^ and the fi^e ; art-* ; 
nn^'p'n the latter rf^^ our aftfryacquirement^ 
m 'knowledge'. Lo9g h^fore the tirne when, 
tiie yenerable Bf^^ .liv/sd: and ;WTpte,'.tbe, 
hght that now shi^r.wUh ;such brightness, 
u our own daysi^^l^ h«r inflqenee over ,t he. 
Ijuid; butitsjorqe \fras not enpugb tq di^ 
pel '^he gi<^m of Sfipierfftition which then, 
Qvershffidf^wed Jth® . clpi^ter. , There were, 
howevfiTy-Jn ;his. ^ge, schpois where, archi- 
tectureiui %9%fA»«t«> -«nd, p^intingr- grew and. 
were iTosterjBd^^ilh.icafe ; andt iC^QfUre, as 
we miiy have,c|ipf^ dp, .^e; conduct of 
ihe, monks, it ^as, jn, truth* this^aet ^ri^^n; 
^ho were good architeptsj and ,thj!^,^re> 
not only the authors of many valuable .treii-: 
tises on science, bijit .the ^hief artists who^ 
painted epdesiajsticaL buildmg&in ifceseo^ — 
jirchHeciwal'MagwuyM^^ . ' . . • a 
y An unfortunate adventurer once o6iervMly> 
that, were he t6/ttim'bakelr,.it woald:]ml'> 
thread out of fashion.; :. * . . ; •: 
- jippearancea, -^ The 'late Baton Smith,' 
having oniee ktrug^le«}~hitrd to ahaki^ the' 
testimony of a fierce-looking ruffian, thus' 
addranaed him:«^<You ma^ be an honest 

man— ^»eil*pii you ar^ tnjiooett nan ; bwi 
a mora ilMookia^ man, and, to all appesr- 
ances, a lest tiupiirQMIiy nMs^ I m}v^ 9^*' 
' According to lin"- original" .miinusWy;^ 
sij^nedjby He.niy Vlf.,^ and k«H>(- in tj*€*ff 
niembifahcer'k ufllcjei. jfiHiit >apjM;afs .';(^^n]| 
ihis reign to have been yer^ qeairT *applee 
being from one to ^wo shilhngs each; and 
h red rose is stilted to have c6st two shil- 
lings. ' \ W,G.C. 

PUnfa 6drdeH.—the description wh1j^ 
the younger Pliny yiyes of his gnrd^%. wtm 
its straight walks and, fantasticnliy-cnt boxr 
tiroes, is. repiu(nant to;mpf|ern principle!* of 
taste ; but, a few ir^igns back, it. would have 
applied to many of th^ gardei^A./even ii^.thi^ 
country. Sir Robert n^lpple, lii his ^dsay^^ 
cpn tracts this ^gar^n, with Jhe glpri^b^^tir- 
chitectiife of ' the same.^ime t;..»5'** *T.'5?'^ 
that nb^hiqg )Sut a parifrre. is Vantir^,^, 
make the des,criptibn .pf a {^rden linjtlTe 
reign of Trajan serve for'one m the reign, 9T 
kirfg WiUian^. J Pope's*weU-^:nown iioijboni 
of the villa and garden of the Dulfe, b( 
Chandos, ("Xforni Essays," Ep.iv.,) w/wjdd 
stand for. that of an uicierit^ Roman ;/^aiid 
he says less than even Pliny does ofjhe culr 
iivation of flpwer?, 'or any lewijr otnatjienla* 
No one would deny the existence of a taste, 
for ' flbweir-lgardening," during* the ^Dutcl^ 
epoch, when the same, aty)«j^ as that 9! Kin^'a 
time prevailed! Vet If, by some strange re- 
vrHtions, we could cbnoeive tlir [ff^^nler 
part of our litiTatiir^ to be losU ^^ h^^ hftp* 
"^n**d to Ihflt of Romei nnd onSf. a TeW. 
fllundard inithDrs to survivV, kach jih Ppp*^, 
and Dryden, fntnre giirdeners nfrd bofa niist* 
could «TgoP, With greiit plaiicitiUtj', Hgkini^t • 
our ancentori* hfivinif flower- ffardeuif si hlL 
Thffe i-, certHinly, no record of nny grfhf 
Horul ^'pideniicT f^yncKfonous with the box- 
tree eni of llomnn gardenif^gi such as the 
ttdipftmamfi of modern liincri ; Hiit we mn^t 
not hence con dude, that thr cnUivitlibn of 
fiPWei%,'^ail a sdurcettfainuKehic^t, w^thfii^ 
disrdgarded.— Jifari^aiiiie ef Natuteti HiMory} 

'. (^en EUxaJ^th,'--iti itve old churchy «^, 
St. Cleinent. Eastcheap,^ was ihe 'following 
epitaph ouKlizabeth t-7- /, . .. \ j V-. , \ 

Nfftherlnnd s ivlief., . 

. > 

V Woi4d*t Mundeft 'HWtilMS'ehisC 'k •*< * ^ , 
Bjrtt«il«> lilessiVK. l£ititlsqd's;tpV»«AtPt :.»^ < U 
MeliKion'« nurar, tUt; Faith's drftnider. ^ . .'r 1 i 

I ^ .TB.BMIRIIOII, VOL.XXXI.^>'' tin./ 

.; . (J^rom'theiLHerttr!fGn»ett§»'Jwl»^U'i9ai>'-. I) 

; " Oar enijerUtuina^contfiiiport^ry i(oi^.on's^iid,i|y». 

iadHbtr^oiuly, and okcerW. This volnfiMrts 11 proof 

mimt.. and ability." ' ^ , > u. .. TT ( 

, :Pfi»tedMdpubiithedhi^/. LiMbIRd' 
. Stmntl,. (menr Sgtmersat ffouse)j ttdf toWhtt^ 

O^W:.Il. RBTA0L1>$, French, English, miAnm^-^ 
rimn fJkra^if, aSt Rum Jfeutt St. 4*msti9,-'Jn: 
FRA^i:ruRT. CUARf.hJS jrOBL. ^ * ' 

C|)e Mivtox 


No. 906.J 


[Prick 2tl, 






Grand Master of the Freemasons in England. 

The descriptive pamphlet, (to which we are 
indebted for the subject of our Engraving,) 
presented to the Grand Master and Sub- 
scriben of the above memorial of loyalty, 
lespect, and affection, opens with the follow- 
ing impressive words : 

<* Public men are public property: the 
good they do lives after them. Their talents 
and virtues extend in beneficial operation to 
other times, and survive for the improvement 
and the gratitude of posterity. 

<< Athens, Sparta, Rome, live, and will 
live, in the memory of a^s yet unborn, not 
because they became cities of monumental 
pride, but because man, even heathen man, 
gave them the priceless legacy of his intel- 

The above noble sentiments, so worthy the 
piesent truly enlightened Freemasons in 
England, ought to be displayed, not only in 
our public courts, and over all our gates, but 
^so written and worn by our legislators ** on 
their arms, and hems of their garments,** as 
the Jews wore their Phylacteries. 
Description of this splendid " Offering.** 
<' The base is about twenty-eight inches 
long, by twenty-four inches broad ; the great- 
est extent of the branches for the lights is 
three feet by two feet six inches ; and the 
whole height is three feet seven inches. The 
principal feature of the design is a circular 
temple of regular architecture, formed by six 
columns of the Corinthian Order, supporting 
an enriched dome, crowned by the figure of 
Apollo. On the frieze are represented the 
twelve signs of the Zodiac. In the interior 
of the temple, resting on a tasselated pave- 
ment, is seen the altar, with the volume of 
the sacred law unfolded, and the square and 
the compasses thereon. The temple is raised 
on a circular pedestal, which again rests on a 
square plinth or step ; on the projecting angles 
ot which are seated four figures, emblematic of 
Astronomy, Geometry, Sculpture, and Archi- 
tecture. Astronomy is contemplating the 
heavens, and holding in one hand a sextant, 
and in the other a telescope; her head 
crowned with stars as with a diadem, five in 
number. Geometry is depicted as contem- 
plating the globe, measuring its parts, and 
ascertaining its proportions with the com- 
passes, and the mystic triangle is marked on 
her frontal coronet. Sculpture is represented 
with the mallet and chisel, having just com- 
pleted the bust of Socrates, emblematic of 
the devotion of the fine arts to the promotion 
of the moral virtues. Architecture is typified 
by the plan of a temple which she is unfold- 

ing to view. The whole of the temple, with 
its classical accompaniments, is placed on a 
superb base. From the angles spring four 
branches for lights, the cup to receive the 
lights being iu the form of the lotus leaf. 
The whole may be used as a candelabrum 
when artificial light is required, or otherwise 
without the branches in its more simple form^ 
without appearing imperfect. The base has 
on each of its four faces an ornamented pan- 
nel. Three of these are enriched with histo- 
rical tablets in low relief, and tlie fourth con- 
tains the inscription. The frames of these 
tablets are ornamented with the olive, com, 
and pomegranate, emblematic of those blea- 
sings of Providence which Masonry teaches 
us to diffuse and employ for the welfare of 
our fellow-creatures. The tablet on the 
principal face represents the Act of the Union 
of the Two Fraternities of English Freema- 
sons, so happily accomplished by His Royal 
Highness the Duke of Sussex, in conjunction 
with His Royal Highness the late Duke of 
Kent, in the year 1813. The two illustrious 
Grand Masters, surrounded by their respec- 
tive Grand Officers and other Brethren, are 
represented ratifying and completing the Act 
of Union, the instrument of which was forth- 
with deposited in the Ark of the Covenant, 
the symbol of the Grand Edifice of Union. 
The all-seeing eye of Providence is repre- 
sented as casting its refulgent rays on the 
deed. The tablet to the left of the above 
represents Solomon receiving from his father, 
King David, the plan of the temple to be 
erected at Jerusalem, according to the in- 
structions which the Almighty had commu- 
nicated to him in a visiou. The third tablet 
represents the temple completed, and Kin^^ 
Solomon in the act of dedicating it to God's 
holy service. The fourth tablet contains the 
inscription : it is as follows : 











This * Offering* was presented by the 
Committee to his Royal Highness, on 
Wednesday, the 27th of April, 1838. It was 
manufactured by Messrs. Garrard, of the 

We are indebted for the above description 
to that truly intellectual periodical, the Free- 
mason*s Quarterly Review, No. xviii. — an 
admirable organ for conveying to the bro- 
therhood every information relative to the 



deleft JStograpl^^. 

hit ^ath in 1838, he reigned, the unctiu- 
trolled dictator of Paraguay, with, like tho 
Roman dictatore, the power of disposing of 
the livtfs and property of his people at plea- 
sure. He now seemed perfectly careless of 
gaining the good will of the people : conse- 
quently, conspiracies were soon formed, but 
no sooner formed, than, by the diligence of 
hw paid spies, they were suppressed ; some 
of the conspirators being led to solitary pri- 

sons, while the more wealthy were mulctea to 

In 1811, Paraguay followed the example of the collective amount of 150,000 dollars. He 
the other Spanish provinces in South Ame- appointed a creature of hi? own, to administer 



" Proud, impMtieilt 
Of onght superior, ev'n of Heav'u that made him : 
Fond oT false glory — of the savage pow'r 
Of ruling without reason— of confouudine 
Just and uiyustf by an unbounded will.'"-— Rows. 

riea, in declaring itself a free republic, when 
ft new government was constituted, but it 
was soon discovered they were incapable of 
governing the people — a race ol unenlight- 
ened Spaniards and Indians, who possessed, 
by nature, not the tamest of tempers: in 
consequence, the greatest anarchy ensued, 
until Jose Gaspard Rodrig^ies de Francia, 
took upon himself the dictatorship of this little 
state, and by the energy and wisdom he 
displayed, soon brought the Paraguayse 
completely under his subjection. 

Tills remarkable hero was the son of a 
Frenchman, who had settled at Paraguay, 
where he was bom in the year 17^7* He 
was destined for the church, but ulti- 
mately became a barrister, and practiced in 
his native courts. He soon was chosen a 
member of the municipality of the city 
of Ascension, and shortly afterwards was 
appointed a judge, an office in which he 
dumlayed the greatest rectitude. 

In 1813, a convention wan called to con- 
sider the state of the republic, when taking 
for a model the consular government of 
Rome, they appointed Don Fulgencio de 
Tegros (their former president), and Francia, 
n the two consuls of Paraguay. Francia 
feond little trouble to convince his country- 
men, that, taking Rome for a model, their 
country would prosper best, were they to 
place it under one dictator ; and« accordingly, 
Francia was declared dictator for three years. 
With the title of Excellency, and a salary 
of 9,000 dollars, of which sum he gave back 
two-thirds, saying, that the state had more 
need of the money than himself, he be- 
came more thoroughly devoted to busi- 
ness^and austere in his habits; bis principal 
attention being directefl to the discipline and 
improvement Si his little army, at that time 
not consisting of more than four or five 
tiionsand men^ In fact, his government 
was conducted with such decided talent 
and energy, that the people, id 18]7> 
unanimonay chose him dictator for life. 
Indeed^ to ccmvince the Paraguayse how 
devoted he was to their cuimtry, in his 
amdoifS desire to improve the system of 
aediciae, that he slibnnttt^l cheerfully to 
haMe<pdriiMttt« made dn his own persdn. 
From thin period, (IBl?,) to the time of 


the affairs of the church, and suppressed the 
Oatholic church ; in fact, he for many years 
took no part in public worship, but seized 
every opportunity of ridiciding and bringing 
into contempt the religious observances of 
his people. He banished all the ancient 
municipalities, and every vestige of their 
free institutions; the laws being adminis- 
tered by a few chosen alcades, or judges, 
removable at his will. Amidst such tyrannic 
proceedings, it is not surprising, that the, 
spirits of the people were broken, and- 
commerce nearly annihilated; but having 
moulded the people completely to his will, 
he intimated, that probably, in the course of 
time, a httle liberty would be extended to 
the Paraguayse. Executions for the support 
of his power now ceased, yet he was obliged 
io use great caution for fear of assussinatiun. 
Amidst all these daring and tyrannic pro- 
ceedings, he was moderate in his wants, — 
studious — free from vulgar vices — reserved 
in his habits. Thus Francia became, per- 
haps, the most absolute ruler of his time in 
the world. 

He was supposed by some to be insane ; 
doubtless, when his ungovernable temper was 
thwarted, it threw him into fits of insanity ; 
his brother and sister were both deranged, 
and his faih&t was a man of great eccen- 

Shortly after he assumed the dictatorship 
of Paraguay, he issued an order of non-inter- 
course with other nations ; and, in addition to 
many of his own i)eople, he imprisoned 40 
foreigners, and did not liberate them until 
Mr. Canning acknowledged the South Ame- 
rican States. Among those foreigners, were 
two Swiss naturalists, Regnger and Long- 
champs, who had entered the country in 
pursuit of scientific objects. It is from 
these travellers we obtain the following fur- 
ther particulars of this extraordinary cha- 
racter; they describe him as a man of middle 
stature, with regular features, with those 
fine black eyes which charactize the Creoles 
of South America; and as having a most 
penetrating look, with a strong expression of 
distrust. On their first introduction he wore 
the official costume, which consisted of ^ 
blue laced coat, (the uniform of a Spanish 
general,) waistcoat, breeches, stockings of 



white silk, and tihoes with gcAd buckles. 
He was then (1819) sixty-two yean of age, 
but did not appear more than fifty. At the 
commencement of a conversation he was 
haughty and intimidating, but if met with 
firmness, he softened down, and finished, 
when in a good humour, by conversing very 
agreeably ; and it was then his great talent 
and extensive acquirements shone forth. — 
He was a devoted admirer of Napo- 
leon, whose downfal he deplored: he con- 
templated with much interest his portrait, 
when shown to him by one of the Swiss 
gentlemen: he had in his possession a 
caricature of Napoleon, which he had mis- 
taken for a portrait, until his visiters ex- 
plained the German inscription that was 
underneath it. They believed that it must 
have been this caricature that suj^gested to 
the dictator the idea of adding to his costume 
an enormous badge, in imitation of the 
clumsy star with which Napoleon is decorated 
in that print. Francia also showed the 
strangers his library, which, together with 
the best Spanish authors, contained the 
works of Voltaire, Rousseau, Raynal, Rollin, 
ftc. He possessed, also, some mathematical 
instruments, globes and maps-- among the 
latter, the best map of Paraguay that was to 
be found in the country. From a knowledge 
of the constellations, which he acquired by 
means of his celestial globe, and of the 
localities of his own territory by the map, 
it was imagined by the people that he was 
an astrologer, but he himseli did not encou- 
rage this notion. Fraucia's household con- 
sisted of four slaves — a negro, one male, and 
two female mulattoes, whom he treated with , 
great mildness. He led a very regular life — 
the first rays of the sun rarely finding him in 
bed. As soon as he arose, the negro brought 
a chafing-dish, a kettle, and a pitcher of 
water, which was heated in his presence. 
Francia then prepared, with the greatest 
possible care, his Matet or Paraguay tea: 
having taken this, he walked under the inte- 
rior peristyle that looked upon the court, and 
tmoked a cigar, which he first took care to 
unrol, in order to ascertain that there was no- 
thing dangerous in it, though it was his own 
sister that manufactured them for him. At six 
o'dock the barber arrived — a filthy, ragged, 
and drunken mtdatto, but the only member 
of the faculty in whom he confided. If the 
dictator happened to be in good humour, he 
chattered with him, and often in this manner 
made use of him to prepare the public for his 
projects. This barber might be said to have 
been his official gasette (no new incident, 
by the by, in the annals of history). He 
then put on his dressing-gown, of printed 
calico, and repaired to the outer peristyle, 
where he walked up and down, and received 
at the same time those persons who were 
admitted to an audience. At seven o'clock 

he entered his closet, where he remained 
until nine, when the officers and other func- 
tionaries came to make their reports and 
receive his orders. At eleven o'clock, the 
principal secretary brought the papers that 
were to be submitted to his inspection, and 
wrote from his dictation until noon, when all 
the officers retired, and Francia sat down to 
table. His dinner, which he ordered himself, 
was at all times extremely frugal : when the 
cook returned from market, she deposited her 
provisions at the door of her master*s closet, 
who came out and selected what he wished 
for his own use. This was his inivariable 
daily custom. After dinner, he took his 
siesta ; on awaking, his tnatewu served up, 
and he smoked a cigar, taking care to ob- 
serve the same precautions as in the morning. 
From this time, until four or five, he devottNi 
to business, when the escort ordered to attend 
him, arrived. During his ride, Francia in- 
spected the public works and the barracks, 
particularly those of the cavalry, where a 
habitation was prepared for him. While ■ 
riding, and surrounded by his escort, he in- .< 
variably took the precaution of arming himself 
with a sabre and a pair *of double-barrelled . 
pocket pistols. He returned home about 
nightfall, and then set down to study until 
nine, when he took his supper* consuting of 
a roasted pigeon and a glass of wine. If the 
weather was fine, he again walked out under 
the peristyle, where he often remained until 
a very late hour. At ten o'clock he gave the 
watchword. On returning into the house, 
he fastened all the doors himself. 

" Ijong had this man imperiously thus Bway*d« 
By DO set laws, bat by his wfll obey'd. 
His fearful slaves, to rail obedience grown. 
Admire his streni^h, and dare not use their own.** 

Thus did this dictator rule over the people* 
until the month of April Ust, (1838,) whea 
death put an end to his projects and his des- 
potism. We find, says a Dutch paper, 
among other news in the Cura^oa papers, 
the following letter from Veneiula:^<* Dr. 
Francia is dead ; and with his death ends 
the most singular government that ever 
existed. His slavish adherents, dreading 
the vengeance of the inhabitants of the 
people (» Ascension, have left the country, 
and fled to Monte Video. This singular 
man retained his character to the day of 
his death. It is said that he has left se- 
veral unpublished manuscripts, one of which 
is, < Proof of the Character and Simplicity 
of the Spanish Americans, and the means 
which a governor must employ to make 
himself necessary to them.' The inscripHop 
which he affixed to his portrait, is very ori|^- 
nal ; it is as follows : — * Despotism is in- 
creased either by having in a eountiyvery 
numerous laws at variance with each other, 
or no laws at all I have chosen the letter 
eourie, because it is more adapted to the 



frankness of my character, and to the bad 
tneittory of the people of Faiaguay.' " 

We are indebted to the New Monthly 
Mi^azine, for March) 1B35, fur some parts of 
the above paper. 


Faes thee well, oh, my friend ; in the hoars of thy 

When ple^shre is leignhig, then thhik not of me ; 
Bat if ever thy spirits are hambled in griet 
And the sigh yields no balm, and the tear no relief; 
Oh ! tliink of me then iu that desolate lot- 
Bat in bliMfoUer moments— remmnber me not I 

In the fiilness of health, not a thoasht on me cast, 
I woald not, as a doad, o'er thy gladness be iMSs'd ; 
^Mid the bliss of thy love be I fiir fhmi thy mind : 
As on her fiuthful bosom thy liead is recUn'd, 
WliUe the sweetness of life, unalloy'd. is thy lot. 
Aid thoa dweli'st in its sunshine— remember me not ! 

I would come to thy memory, when health Ihdes 

lake the darkness of night, on a chill, murky day ; 
When the thoaght> although gloomy and bleak it 

would be. 
Might yield an abatement of anguish to thee : 
Bnt, <di ! when prosperity beams on thy lot. 
And thy heart is all happy— remember me not 1 

When the damp hand of death all thou lov'st shall 

have chill'd. 
And thy breast with unntter'd affliction is fill'd ; 
When bat light to that sorrow is all other grief. 
Then the sad thought of me may bring even relief; 
Bat while yet in^her beauty slie blesses thy lot. 
And crowns it with fondness— remember me not ! 

It is not in the ramble, the feast, or the dance. 
Where the young heart's felicity speaks in each 

It is not *mid the soothing or rapturous strain 
Of mnsic IM flit through thy memory again ; 
Ah, no 1 while such light-hefurled pastime's thy lot;. 
Let no pain mingle with it — ^remember me not ! 

Should adversity touch thee, think, think of me 

For I'd soften tliy grief, were I near thee, again : 

Sliould thy summer-time friends fall, like flower- 
leaves, away. 

On tiie coming, all black, of thy evil-frausht day ; 

Then believe me still stedfast, though bliglited thy 

Bnt, while fortune is smiling— remember me not t 

Vopulat tintiquitUi. 

O'kb a bright tropic isle, in the far Indian seas. 
Soars aloft a eav bird, in the face of the breeze ; 
Soars aloft, wliile the air with his glad voice outrings. 
As the wind rushing by smooths lus gossamer wings. 
Such power, fiail thing, to thy slisht form is given — 
Yet thy strength, is it not like thy bu:th->bird of hea- 
There is joy on thy path through the midsummer 

noon — 
There is safety when rages the mighty monsoon — 
When forth on their clouds ride the storm and the 

A haven thou flnd'st tiU the wild troop hath pass'd. 
He who feedeth the ravens, aye guidetb thee on — 
Float away ! float away 1 till thy far home is won ! 
Stoop not I on thy plume, lol earth's clog and her 

stain I 
On that pinion, so bnxden'd with dust of the plain, 
Thoa may'st ne'er mount away through yon ether 

How like is the spirit that soars to be firee, 
In its flight— in its lUl !— oh, bird unto thee.— Iokx. 


Thxbb are many catacombe in Malta^ prki- 
eipally found in the neighlxmrhood of Citttf 
Vecchia> the old capital of the island. It is 
very diificalt precisely to determine by what 
nation these excavabons were formed, and, 
indeed, it is a point upon which antiqua- 
rians are at variance ; but that they were 
made use of by Christians, for many years^ 
is incontestible : for the designs, crosses, 
and allegorical figures, which are seen in 
some of them, are a sufficient proof tha$ 
they were the burial places of the primitive 
followers of the doctrme of Christ. 

l^or many centuries, our catacombs wer« 
preserved with the greatest veneration, in 
memory of those who were the first to em- 
brace the Christian faith. The ignorance, 
however, which for so many ages over* 
clouded almost all the world, was produo* 
tive of no less barbarising effects to religion 
and the arts in Malta, than in other parts ; 
and the faith being weakened and reduced 
to mere form^, and all taste for local history 
being extinct, it is not surprising that these 
subterranean places, with various other ob- 
jects of art, should have been left to the ca- 
price of those who knew not how to value 
them. Thus neglected, many of the cata-, 
combs were destroyed, while others were 
covered over with earth. 

One of them, however,^ called b^ the na- 
tives Abbatia, which is in the district of 
Bir Rieba, about a quarter of a mile out- 
side the Rabbato (suburb) of Citta Vecchia, 
having remained open, and containing some 
designs in a partial state of preservation^ 
afterwards attracted the attention of many, 
and particularly of some historians, one of 
whom has given a detailed description of it. 
By the curiosity of those who, from a love 
of antiquities, frequently visit this place, 
nearly the whole of its interior has been 
explored ; and, in the neighbourhood, some 
subterranean apartments have been found, 
cut in the rock, haring but one en- 
trance, which contain a few sepulchres, 
that seem to have belonged to respectable, 
families, and which have been enlarged as 
occasion required. 

Being desirous of visiting these places, 
we were informed, that from a well at a 
few paces distant from one of the apart-, 
ments, there was an entrance to a subter- 
ranean chamber, which had never yet been 
examined. Having descended by a move- 
able ladder about fifteen feet below the 
surface of the earth, we discovered a regular 
door-way, in which there had at one time 
been a wooden door. After passing the 
threshold, we found ourselves in a chamber 
about nineteen feet long by fourteen wide, 
excavated in the rock, which is rather soft ; 


the roof being supported by nn arch nnd 
two pillars, formed in excavating. Oppo* 
Mile tne entrance is seen another door-way, 
iioiuething smaller, leading to a sort of cor- 
ridor, intended apparently to be continned ; 
mi the side of wnich there is a sepulchre. 
The chamber containir six sepulchres, cut 
in the rock, vrhieh have all oeen opened, 
{no doubt by the common people, wno ge- 
nerally expect to find some treasure in the 
llepositories of the dead,) nothing but a few 
fragments of bones remaining. They are 
cut in the surrounding walls, at the height 
of about two feet, with the exception of 
one, which is about five feet from the 
ground, and this appnars to have served for 
a child I the entrances to them are in the 
form of an arch, although this changes to 
an upright oblong shape above, at about a 
foot within, and inside there is sufficient 
Kl>nce for two bodies. On the left, isolated 
front the wall, is a block, about four feet in 
dtiimeter, and one foot and a half high, flat 
nt top, but with an edge around, in which 
there is an opening in front. There are 
two blocks of a similar form in the great 
ettfacombs near the grotto cf St. Paul, 
which some historians are of opinion were 
utied for washing the bodies before inter- 

Upon the arch over the furthest sepul- 
chre there is an inscription, in whitsh, after 
cleaning away the dirt, the following frag- 
ments of words have been wi de out, the 
rest being altogether effaced, or so de- 
stroyed as to be undistingui.shable : 




Although, from what remains, the senile 
of the inscription cannot be understood, it 
may be affirmed that the characters which 
are visible are almost all Latin. Some of 
them, it is true, are badly formed ; but they 
are like many ancient inscripiioos found in 
various countries. The words, too, which 
are preserved entire, are quite Latin, ii— 
Thus, from BI>< ITINPAC, (vixit inpace,) 
and PACEM, in another lin«, it may be 
concluded that t^e whole is Christian ; for 
the expression, paop in Chrhio, has always 
been in use amongst Christians. Besides 
the inscription, there is at the aide of the 
tomb something like the figure of a dove, 
and, on the other side, two ears, which ap- 
pear to be those of the hare. The former 
was used among the primitive Christians to 
signify simplicity, and the second, patience 
under suffering. Symbolsof this sort, which 
are found in most Christian burial-places, 
aad pnrticularly on the tombs of those who 
have sacrificed their lives for the faith, may 

be taken as sufficient grounds for believing'^ 
that the place was no other than a Christian 
cemetery, as much as the other called Ab- 

It is hoped that this short sketch may 
induce some one, who has a regard for the 
memory of our ancestors, to undertake the 
description of all the monoments of this sort 
which exist in Malta; and thus revive • 
veneration for the memory of those from 
whom we derive the Christian faith.— JfaAls 
Paper, June, 1838. 

Babbi Simon and the Jewelt, 
Rabbi Simon once bought a caniel of an 
Ishmaelite; his disciples took it home; 
and, on removing the saddle, discovered a 
band of diamonds concealed under it. 
"Rabbi! Rabbi!" exclaimed they, « the 
blessing of God maketh rich,'* intimating 
that it was a God-send. « Take the dia^ 
monds back to the man of whom I pur- 
chased the animal," said the virtuous Rabbi: 
<< He sold me a camel, not precious stoBMk" 
The diamonds were returned, accordingly, 
to the no small surprise of the proper owner : 
but the Rabbi preserved the much more 
valuable jewels — Honesty and lotegprity. 
F4>ify of Idolatty, 
Terah, the father of Abraham, says tradi- 
tion, was not only an idolater, but a maau- 
facturer of fdols, which he used to expose 
for public sale. Being obliged one di^ to 
go out upon particular business, he desired 
Abraham to superintend for him. Abra- 
ham obeyed reluctantly. " What is the 
price of that god ?" asked an old man who 
had just entered the place of sale, pointing 
to an idol to which he took a fancy. « Old 
man,'' said Abraham, " may I be permitted 
to nsk thine age ?'»— « Threescore years,'* 
replied the age-stricken idolater.—*' Three- 
score years I" exclaimed Abraham, ** and 
then thou wouldst worship a thing that hag 
been fashioned by the hands of my father'ii 
slaves within the last twenty-four hours ! 
Strange, that a man of sixty, should be 
willing to bow down his grey head to a 
creature of a day !" The man was over- 
whelmed with shame, and went away. 
After tlus there came a sedate and grave 
matron, carrying in her hand a large dish 
with flonr. " Here,*' said she, '* have I 
brought an offering to the gods; place k 
before them, Abraham, and bid them be 
propitious to me." — " Place it before thein 
thyself, fooKsh woman," isaid Abraham, 
« ihovL wilt soon see how greedily they w^ft 
devour it.** She did so. In the mean 
time, Abraham took a hammer, broke the 
idob in pieces, all excepting the largest, in 
whose hands he placed the instrument . of 
destruction. Terah returned, and with th« 



utmost surprise and consternation, behfid 
the havock among his faVoartte gods. 
•< What is all this, Abraham? What pro- 
fane has dared to use our gods in this man- 
ner?'* exclaimed the infatuated and indig- 
nant Terah. — ** Why should I conceal any- 
thing from my father ?'* replied the pious 
son. ** During thine absence there came a 
woman with yonder offering for the gods ; 
she placed it before them ; the younger gods, 
who, as well may be supposed, had not 
tasted food for a long time, greedily 
stretched forth their hands, and began to 
eat before the old god had given them 
permission. Enraged at their boldness, he 
rose, took the hammer, and punished them 
for their want of respect V* 

The Athenian and the One-eyed Slave, 
An Athenian went to study at Jerusalem ; 
after remaining there three years and a 
half, and finding he made no great progress 
in his studies, he resolved to return. Being 
in want of a servant to accompany him on 
his journey, he went to the market-place, 
and purchased one. Having paid the money, 
he began to examine his purchase more 
closely, and foimd, to his surprise, that 
the purchased servant ha'd \)ut one eye. 
** Thou blockhead," said he to himself, 
" see the charming fruits of thy application. 
Here have I studied three years and a half, 
and at last acquired sufficient wisdom to 
purchase a Wind slave." — " Be comforted," 
said the person who sold the slave ; " trust 
me^ thougli he is blind of one eye, he can 
see much better than persons with two.'' 
The Athenian departed with his servant, 
ai;id when they had advanced a little way, 
the blind slave addressed his master — 
«* Master,'' said he, *' let us quicken our 
pace, we shall overtake a traveller, who is 
some distance before us.*' — " I see no tra- 
veller," said the master.—'* Nor 1," replied 
the slave^ ** yet I know he is just four miles 
distant from us.*' — " Thou art mad, slave ! 
How shouldst thou know what passes at so 
great a distance, when thou canst scarcely 
see what^s before thee ?*' — " I am not mad, 
yet it is as I said ; nay, moreover, the tra- 
veller is accompanied by a she ass, who, 
like myself, is blind of one eye : she is big 
with two young, and carries two flasks, one 
containing vinegar, the other wine.'' — 
** Cease your prattle, loquacious fool," 
exclaimed the Athenian, " I see my pur- 
chase improves : I thought him blind only, 
but he IS mad in the bargain.** — " Well, 
master,*' said the slave, '' have a little 
patience, and thou wilt see I have told thee 
nothing but the truth." They journeyed 
on, and soon overtook the traveller ; when 
the Athenian, to his utter astonishment, 
found every thing as his servant had told 
him ; and begged him to explain how he 
could know aU this without seeing the 

nnimul or its conductor. ** I will tetl thee, 
master," replied the slave : *' I looked at 
the road, and observing the almost imper- 
ceptible impression of the ass's hoofs, I 
concluded she must be four miles distant ; 
for beyond that, the impression could not 
be visible. I saw the, grass eaten away on 
one side of the path, and not on the other ; 
end hence judged she most be blind of ode 
eye. A litfle further on, we passed a sandy 
road, and by the impression the animal left 
on the sand, 'where she rested, I knew she 
must be with young. Further, I observed 
the impressions which the liquors had made 
on the sand, and found some of them a^ 
peered to be spongy, whilst others were fifll 
of small bubbles, caused by fermentation^ 
and thence judged of the nature of the 
liquid." The Athenian admired the saga- 
city of his servant, and thenceforth treated 
him with great respect, being resolved in 
future not to take mankind by its outward 

" Te stars, which are the poetry of Heaven I 
If, in your bright leaves, we would read the taie 
Of men and empires, 'tis to be Ibrgiven, 
That, in our aspirations to be great. 
Our destinies o'erleap their mortal state. 
And claim a kindred with you, for ye are 
A beauty and a mystery,** — BtsoN.! 

Many of our readers hear about Astrology, 
yet few are acquainted with the practice of 
that science, which embarked the implicit 
faith, and occupied the undivided attention, 
of men of otherwise great talents and at- 
tainments, during so many centuries in for- 
mer ages of the world. The practice of 
Astrology was divided by the professors of 
that art into three parts».Mundane, Ge- 
nethliacal, and Horary. 

Mundane Astrology was that branch of 
the science, by which it was alleged they 
were enabled to predict all national occur- 
rences, and all changes in the atmosphere. 
The mode generally used to predict the 
former was, by erecting a figure of the Hea^ 
vens for the time the sun entered Aries, 
Cancer, Libra, and Capricorn ; and every 
county and city being, it was alleged, under 
the government of a particular sign, as the 
rulers of these signs agreed or disagreed 
with each other, it was supposed the coun- 
tries they represented would be at peace or 
war. Different planets, too, were sup- 
posed to signify the several classes of so- 
ciety : as Jupiter for the clergy, Mars for 
the army, <&c. ; and as these planets were 
ill or well dignified, it was said that these 
orders were advanced or depressed. 

Genethliacal Astrology was that part 
which treated of the intellectual powers, the 
bodily health, life, and fortune, of mankind. 



II preramed to eoqibiiie Ihe boanted MlYaa> 
tacM of phyiipgnomy and phrenoloffy, with 
rbtlMqri p«^li«rly its oirn. The Phrenolo* 
: ^gi Mcertains the iqtellectiial powera whm 
:ifi a state of qaieteenoe; the Astr<4oge.r 
ansomed to foretell the .time when th^ 
. could be modt ad?antap:eoagly employed. 

Horary Astrology pretended to furnish 
the means of satisfying those doubts^ to 
which all are sulgect on the success of ai^ 
undertaking. It was more easily attainable 
than any other part of the science. The 
merchant learned b^ it the result of his spe- 
. culations ; the anxious parent, the welfare 
of hie absent child ; the client, the termina- 
tion of his suit, or any other affair which 
. seriously interested him. . It assumed to be 
. dependant on syn^thy for its foundation ; 
and no question was radical, and no true 
answer could be obtained, unless the person 
was sincere in his desire to know the result. 
For the amusement of the readers of the 
Mirror, I affix to this a sketch of a Figure 
of the Nativity of Lord Byron, furnished by 
one of the British Mngi, with the explica. 
tion of the worthy votary and disciple of 
Lilly ; which is curious, us being cast ac- 
cording to those mystic rules, and subser- 
vient to those laws, which the noble poet, 
in his superstitious moments, thought him- 
self under the influence of. 




-,. A.M. 

LAT . 51 . at . 







** The extraordinnry mental qualifications 
which the native possessed are most amply 
demonstrated, by the positions and configu- 
rations of the Moon and Mercury. The 
latter planet is the principnl ruler of the 
intellectual faculties ; and, being free from 
the nffliction of the solar rays, in the move- 
able and tropical sign, Cnpricom, — oriental, 
and approaching a sextile of the ascendant, 
by which means he may be said to be in a 
glorious position, — contributes, according 
to the quadripartele of Ptolmey, to render 
the mind < clever, sensible, capable of great 

learning; ioftnihre, exptrt, logical, iladiintf 
of nature, speculative, of good genius, emo* 
Lous, benevolent, skilful in argument, seen- 
rate in conjecture, and adapted to science 
and mystery.' * The page abo adds, * trac- 
table:' but Mercury, being in opposition 
to the Moon and Mors, instead of tractabi- 
lity, g^ves a hatred of cxnitrol ; inspires the 
native with the most lofty ideas and aspi- 
ring sentiments ; gives him originality and 
eccentricfty, with a firmness of mind dbnest 
inclining to obstimicy; and which made 
this illustrious native such an enemy to the 
track of custom, for which he was so rer 
markable, and which contributed to^ form 
that lofty genius, which alike rode in the 
whirlwind, or sparkled in the sunbeam.** (!!!) 
And so the changes are rung on the 
whole of the events in the noble poet's life, 
which are set correctly down, after their 
occurrence f 

Dryden, the poet, was extremely food of 
Judicial Astrology, and used to calculate 
the nativities of his children. When his 
lady was in labour with his son Charles, he, 
being told it was decent to withdraw, laid 
his watch on the table, and begged one of 
the ladies then present, in the most serioos 
manner, to take exact notice of the very 
minute the child was born ; which the ac- 
cordingly did, and acquainted him with it. 
About a week afterwards, when his lady 
was p'e ty well recovered, Dryden took oc- 
casion to tell her, that he had been calcu- 
lating the child*s nativi^; and ohaerved, 
with great sorrow, that he was born in an 
evil hour : for Jupiter, Venus, and the^Siio, 
were all under the earth, and the lord of 
his ascendant afflicted by a malfg^ant square 
of Saturn and Mars. '* If he arrives at 
eight years," said he, <'he will be in dan- 
ger of a violent death on his birthday ; if he 
should escape, I see but small hopes. He 
will, on the twenty-third year, oe again 
under an evil direction ; and if he luckily 
should escape that also, the thirty-third or 

thirty-fourth year, I fear, is '' In hie 

' eighth year, notwithstanding every precau- 
tion, he was nearly killed by a stag striving 
to lean the court- wall, which was verir old, 
; and which threw a part of it down on Charles 
Dryden, who was on the other side, and 
who was dug out in a very dangerous state. 
.In the twenty-third year of his age, Charles 
fell from the top of an old tower belonging 
to the Vatican at Rome. He again partly 
recovered, but was ever after in a languish- 
ing condition. In the thirty-third year of 
his age, being returned to Kngland, he wan 
unhappily drowned at Windsor. Thus the 
father's calculations proved but too prophe- 
tical. I, 

• Tolmey's Tetrabiblos. p. 167. 


aOTAlCT. — I. 

Botany deriTos ifii name from tho Greek 
term for a ▼egetaUe, ($&rmnh) md com- 
prebends aUthat relatea to planta. Some- 
limes, indeed, it ia restricted to a mere de- 
scription of vegetable organs, and arrange- 
ments . of systems ; bnt, in tbis light, it ap- 
pears a mere barren study of names; 
vbereas tbe true Botanist investigates all 
the relations of pbmts. 

Plants are not to be regarded as insulated 
obfects : they are connedbMl with surround- 
ing bodies, and should be viewed in relation 
to tbe earth, in which they grow; to the 
water, which they imbibe ; to uie air, which 
they respire ; and tO the sun, by which they 
are adorned and animated. By their num- 
ber and variety, they stimulate curiosity, as 
well as excite admiration. It is true, that 
Zoology rivals Botany in varie^ ; but Um 
contemplation of pain and death which it 
brings with it, frequently excites sad emo- 
tions. Every newly-di:icovered plant brings 
an accession of useful knowledge ; and 
Bacon says of a garden, that it is the purest 
of earthly enjoyments. The proper system 
of horticultural planting is founded on a 
knowledge of the reUtions and antipathies 
of plants to each other. Different sorts of 
the potatoe, and difiereot varieties of fruit- 
trees, are , constantly disappearing ; and to 
perpetuate that. cheap vegetable, and to re- 
place those delicious fruits, is the work of 
the scientific botanist. Similar remarks 
apply to the Scotch fir and the English oak. 
Professor Lindley informs U8, that, from 
neglect and ignorance, one of the most va- 
luable kinds of the latter has been allowed 
almost to disappear. Indeed, Botany and 
Agriculture (and we may also include Che- 
mistry,) may be regarded as. parts of the 
same whole; for they mutually elucidate 
and assist each other. 

The relations of plants to animals are 
very interesting. Thus, the mulberry-tree 
appears to be formed for the silk-worm ; 
the cactus for cochineal, (which most of our 
readers are aware is an insect) ; the acacia, 
(one species of which yields g^om-arabic,) 
for the giraffe, or camel-leopard; and 
mosses for the rein-deer. Lastly, we must 
consider the relation of plants to man. Na- 
tions which cultivate grain are the first to 
become civilized ; for tiie harvest brings the 
people into contact and communion with 
each other. Many nations have chosen a 
flower as a national emblem : we need not 
mention the rose, shamrock, and thistle, as 
the floral emblems of the United Kingdom. 
The unequal distribution of plants furnishes 
the chief inducement to engage in com^ 
merce : witness the sugar-cane, the tea- 
plant, the coitOn*p]ant, <&c. Flowers have 

supplied ornaments (o the aria, and fibres 
to poetry. In the Bible, more than three 
hundred plants are mentioned; and many 
M cannot be well understood without 
Dowledge of Botany. This ftmiishea 

Seat sonree of interest to the <<Picto* 
iUe;'' in the notes to which, tbe 
lights of modem science, and of Botany ia 
particular, are made to shine on every ob- 
scure passage. Much curious information^ 
on the same interesting suljecty will also be 
found in Althans's ** Scriptoral Natural 
History." The general reader would pro- 
bably^ not suspect that so many plants were 
mentioned in the Bible. This is only one 
instance of the extent of the subject— an 
extent which renders dassification neces- 
sary ; and this dassification has likewise Uie 
good effect of cultivating the powers of ob- 
servation and discrimination. 

We shall endeavour, then, in the course 
of a few short and concise papers, to make 
our readers acquainted with the general 
outlines of this fascinating science, \lfhile 
we shall endeavour to avoid being so super* 
ificial as to be unsatisfactory, neiUier the 
space at our command, nor the nature of 
tne work, will allow us to be minute. We 
hope to exdte a taste for the study, in some 
cases in which it does not exist, and in 
others in which it does. After leading it 
forward to a certain extent, we dwll be sa- 
tisfied to consign it to a study of the great 
book of Nature, assisted by some manual 
specifically devoted to the subject. We beg 
leave at the outset, once for all, to acknow- 
ledge our obligations, in the comj>osition of 
the following essays, to the admirable lec- 
tures of Dr. Litton, in the Royal Sodety of 

Our readers are aware, that all the ob- 
jects in nature are divided into organic and 
inorganic. Uniformity of substance is cha- 
racteristic of inorganic bodies ; and they are 
not capable of life. Organic bodies, on the 
other hand, are an assemblage of organs, 
composed of very different substances. — 
Herein they resemble a machine, but aU 
their parts are themselves organised ; while^ 
in a machine, the mechanism soon ceases, 
and we arrive at a uniformity of substance. 
Thus, all the parts of a spring are similar 
in composition. 

Organized bodies are divided into animal 
and vegetable ; thus forming, with inorganic 
bodies, what are called ** the three King- 
doms of Nature :*' — 1. Animal ; 2. Vegeta- 
ble ; 3. Mineral. From the infinite variety 
and complexity of organic bodies, and from 
the imperfection of human faccdties, it is 
sometimes difficult to distinguish the mem- 
bers of the animal from those of the vege- 
table kingdom. One rule which has b^n 
proposed for distinguishing them is, the 
want of syounetry in plants : for, while ani- 



nuils may generally be divuled into symme- 
trical hulve.H, by a line drawn down the 
middle, (called by anatonatsts the median 
Une,) plants are not capable of thld symme- 
trical division. Indeed, if a tree be cat into 
a regular shape, it loses its charm to the 
eye of taste. Plants, likewise, have many 
organs imperfectly developed, such as 
abortive buds and branches ; which add to 
their want of symmetry. Flowers and 
leaves, however, are generally symmetrical ; 
1)Ut sometimes ike midrib of the leaf (as it 
IS called) is not in the middle. This is 
seen in the common lime-tree. On the 
other hand, many of the lower tribes of 
animals are not symmetrical. Those ani- 
mals, for instance, which do not possess the 
power of locomotion, (that is, who cannot 
m6ve as they please from place to place,) 
are not symmetrical ; such as the oyster, 
land many other shell-fish. 

A seeoml r«l6 for di^inguishing the two 
Iringdoms is, the abrupt manner in which 
the brantihes of animals are given off, while 
Ihe Hmbs of animals are rounded. But, 
though the distinction is, in general, suffi- 
ciently wide, some of the inferior animids 
HRpproach so near in appearance to vegeta- 
ble^, as not to be distinguished by external 
form. This is the case with the bell- shaped 
jotypus, the tabttlares, and the coralines. 
indeed, those last-mentioned were once 
bought to be vegetables; Perhaps the lat- 
ter may be best distinguished from animals, 
hy their want of voluntary motion. N. R. 

JifU) SooftiS. 

Travels in Europe. By fVilbur Fisk, 
D,D, New Yorkt Harper and Brothers, 
JLjmdon^ J. St Hodson, 
Tbb author of these Travels is an American 
«;«nileman, whose design in publishing them 
18 << to coU his readers, and especially the 
youn|(, npt only to such facta as will merely 
enlarge their knowledge of the existing 
itate of the world, physical and moral, hxA 
also to such faets and principles as will 
more effectually prepare them for the great 
nurpoaes of their being." And, certainly, 
he seems well qualified to achieve so de- 
Hirable an object. In Paris, he gives us the 
following sketch of 

The Elysian Fields ; 
^hieh are in an extensive plain, lyine each 
-gide of an avenue, 950 yards in leng^, and 
from .S73 to 700 yards in breadth, planted 
with trees arranged on geometrical princi- 
ples, so as to appear in straight Imes in 
■^ery direction. 1 his is the place of fashion 
-tod parade, of frolic and Km : here, on pub- 
lic occasions, and always on a Sunday, if it 
be fair, you see all the fa^ion and frivolity 
of the city ; the avenue thronged with car- 

riages, the spacioujt side-wilk crowded with 
pedestrians, and the entire park alive with 
sports and soundb of human voices. Here 
the Cossacks had their camp in 1814> and 
the Kaglish in 1815. 

The French Police* 

You are under a very strict surtfeiUance 
while in Paria. Whoever takes you to 
lod^e, must report you to the police. The 
police also know where you take ycur din- 
ner, when you visit the Royal Museum, Ac. 
A singular circumstance occurred with a 
into who had forgotten his lodgingi, and 
was obliged to go to the police-office to oK 
tain the necessary information. They in- 
formed him who he teas, where he lodged, 
And where he took his dinner I Indeed, If 
A man should Ibrget his own identity itk 
France, the police would set him right. 

The Palais Royal 
\b the residence of the king's eldest son, the 
Duke of Orleans. It is very near the Tuil- 
leries, standing but very little to the north ol 
the Pkice du Carousal; and yet is so shut 
in by crowded and narrow streets, that it 
makes no show until you get into it ; and 
when you enter it, your first impression is, 
that you have found a splendid edifice that 
had been lost. This has been the scene of 
many fruitful events in the history of 
France. The first revolutionary meetings 
were held in the gnrdens and gallerits of 
this palace in 1789. Here are ea/^Sj res^ 
iauransj and estaminets, (smoking-houses,) 
of the highest and most refined order : — 
here are shops, containing everything that 
can be thought of or desired, arranged ill 
the most splendid manner ;— and here were 
some of the most noted gambling-houses in 
Paris, before they were prohibited by law. 
The extent of the gambling may be Judged 
of by the fact, that the owners paid to the 
city about ],300,<K)0 dollars annually, and 
that the sums stsJced here yearly amounted 
to about 60,000,000 dollars. In short. If 
any one wishes to have a condensed view of 
Parisian frivolity, sensuality, profligacy, and 
debauchery, splendour and fashion, let him 
go and spend an evening at the Palais RoyaL 
The Gobelin Factory. 

The government of France has formerly 
pursued a monopolizing spirit, by which it 
nas sought to draw mauufactories and mer- 
chandize into its own hands. Salt, to- 
bacco, <fec., as matters of trade, have b^en 
royal monopolies ; so, in manufactories, the 
government has always endeavoured to se- 
cure some of the most important to itself. 
The first is the Manufacture Royal des 
Gobelins. This takes its title from a Hi- 
mily of the name of Gobelin, who owned 
the premises, end occupied them in dyeing 
wool ; afterward they were used for ta- 
pestry ; and finally were, by the suggestion 
of Colbert, bought up by Louis XIV. for a 



mytd mannfttctory. Tl is now employed to 
furnish the royal palaees, and for presenttf 
to loEeign courtH. W^e found the workmen 
pale and sickly, and learned that they were 
poorly paid. The work, however, is mag- 
nificent. There were a number of splendid 
pieces in the looms, and there many of them 
wUl be for a long time to c6me ; for some 
of the pieces r«main in that sitoation lor six 
years. They imitate, or, rather, work into 
the tapestry, both the designs and the co- 
lows of the most celebrated pi<^ures. The 
weaver frequently has his iiKHlel, or copy, 
Itshind lam, and he turns roond oceaaionally 
to see the figiire and the colour, which he 
Q^ost perfectly and beautiful^ transfers to 
j^is ^ei>« One of these pieces of tapestry, 
when finii^hed, will sell for between three 
and four thousand dollars; but they «« 
seldom or ever sold. The Qobetiu tapestry, 
probaUy, never would have been carried to 
. so great a perfection, had it not beea sup* 
poi^d by government. They not only ma- 
nufacture tapestry, but carpets. Some were 
in the looms when we were there, for the 
royal palace, which are thought superiot 
even to the carpets of the East. 

National Education in France, 
The system of education in France is 
truly national — it is entirely under the di< 
rection and management of the state. It is 
true, some individuals are permitted to 
establish private schools, but not until they 
have been officially examined by officers ap- 
pointed for the purpose; after which, if 
they are accepted, by presenting the authen- 
ticated certificate of acceptance, and testi- 
mnonials of a good character, they receive a 
license to teach in those branches on which 
they are examined, but in no other. These 
private schools also are visited by appointed 
committees and inspectors ; and the places 
and rooms where they are kept, are sub- 
jected to inspection and condemnation if 
they are not found suitable. And on the 
contrary, if the schools are approved of, and 
the teachers do well, they are fostered by 
government in various ways. But tfie great 
system itself is directly under the govern- 
ment of the slate, and constitutes an inte- 
gral and important branch of public admi- 
nistratien^ at the head e€ which is the 
** minister of public instruction and reli- 
gion.'^ He is aided in his duties by a 
'' royal council^" consisting of six members, 
of which the minister is president. The 
first counsellor has the charge of all matters 
0f general interest in the admimstratiou of 
the faculties of the colleges, — The second 
has special charge of all matters relating to 
psrimary iostrtiction.— -TJie third superin- 
tends the instruction in the mathematical 
soie.noes. — The fourth has the charge of ail 
that relates to philosophical studies, tO the. 
instruotion in the normal schools, (the 

schools for preparing teachers,) and of the 
faculties of theology. — The fifth has the 
charge of the royal college^), and of the in* 
struction in the natural sciences. -^The thcth 
has charge o^ instruction in the faettUteA ttn^ 
•eoendary schools of medicine, And of the 
pensions, institutions, tSpc.-^The minister et 
public instruction has, of course, a general 
supervision over aB the literary, scientific, 
and professional seminaries ; and has charge 
of the pabHc libraries, of the national initt* 
tute, of the schools of the deaf and danb} 
the polytechnic school, ifec. The entire sy»« 
Urn is called the « University of Pratiee.'' 

The highest of the m^hook are for the 
most profound 9ci€9iC98 and for the profes* 
sions, — The second are the lyceume, for the 
ancient languages, history, rhetoric^ logic^ 
and the elements of the mathematical end 
batural sciences.— Then follow the commu- 
nal colleges, which teach the first principlee 
of the branches taught in the royal colleges. 
Next the ** institutions," which give nearly 
the same instruction with the last, but are 
smaller schools. — To these may be added, 
the normal schools, which promise much 
for the nation ; there being now fifty- six, 
supported at an immense expense ; and the 
polytechnic school^ which is scientific and 
military. The schools of theology have pro- 
fessors of history, doctrines, andeFangelical 
morals, and some of them have protessoM 
of Hebrew and sacred eloquence. One par- 
ticular feature in the French system, is, 
that females attend regular courses of lec- 
tures in obsterics, and^ after examination 
and acceptance, have a regular diploma to 
practise m that department. 

The «' University of France " was first 
established in 1806. Although there were, 
a<t early as 1793 and 1794, some efforts made 
by the government to extend the system of 
education to all classes, yet nothing very 
efficient seems to have been accom^ished' 
until the establishmeBt of the University. 
In 1808, the foundaUon was laid, and the 
general })lan was struck out by Napoleon 
and his ministers, which has remained essen- 
tially the {Mune up to the present hour. 


TERROR. By Capt. Back, H.N. Murray. 
[Tms expedition to the arctic shores was by 
direction of the GKivernment, in order that 
another attempt, by the way of Wager River, 
should be made to trace the notthem boundary 
of the North American Continent. Also, to 
ascertain the general form and position of 
that part of the northern coast of America 
which extends from the point nearest the 
sea-shore of Mnce Regent's Inlet, as £ir as 
the western mouth of Fury and Hecia Strait, 
To determine, in a similar manner, the con- 
tinental coast from the point of arrival, on 
Prince Regent's Inlet to the mouth of the 



Kifer Backf and after passiDg Maeonochie 
ivlaml, the oontinuation of the main shore ai 
far as the PtNot Tumagain of Franklin ; to 
jcroas the atiait which it suppoeed to lepaiate 
the. continent of America Irom the islands to 
tb^ JiorUieni end of it, tracing the shore to 
theiaithest point of Captain James Ross's 
discovery; and, to pro«!ed from thence to 
the spot where he determined, by observa- 
ttonsi the position of the northern magnetic 
pole. The espedition sailed on the 14th 
^une, 183d, and returned, September 3rd, 
.1837. We will commence the extract with 
a narrative of a ftirther proof of the extreme 
cunning and dishonesty of the 

Saddleback Etpiimatup,'] 

Who began their traflBc with the advan- 
tage of practised traders. Accordingly, no 
device or cunning was left untried by them, 
and when they were detected in their knavery, 
their loud lauj^hter showed how greatly they 
emoted the joke. The women not only 
wming to dispose of their garments, but one 
actually offered to barter her children for a 
few needles. In a few days afterwards, the 
Terror had the honour of a second visit from 
the Esquimaux, with the same cupidity, and 
the same unnatural readinesM on the part of 
the women, to exchange their children for a 
few needles or a saw. A laughable incident 
occurred — a young woman who, observing 
that one of the officers had not much hair on 
his head, immediately oflfered to supply him 
with her own at the easy price of a curtain- 

Curious Meteors. 

Dr. Donavan and Mr. Mould perceived 
an extraordinary meteor in the clear blue 
sky, at the moment of detection bearing 
north, at an altitude of about 23 degrees ; it 
was then in rapid motion, and having 
ascended to 25 degrees, or thereabouts, it 
declined, its course being something of a 
paraboloid. It was, as seen, of about the 
size of a man's hand, and its colour was that 
of a pale emerald. On the 5th of August 
following, about 2 a.m., another splendid 
comet-liSe meteor appeared in the south-east, 
whidi, darting from somewhere near the 
senith in a brilliant prismatic blase, and 
taking a direction towards the horizon, burst 
about 15 degrees above it, and after scatter- 
ing rays of beautiful sparks, vanished alto- 

Cl)e ^ttl^lu SournaliS. 


From *' Olioer Twits," by Box, 
Mr. Bumblb sat in the workhouse parlour, 
with his eyes moodily fixed on the cheerless 
grate, whence, as it was summer time, no 
brighter gleam proceeded than the reflection 
of certain sickly rays of the sun, wluch were 

■ent back from its cold and shining Ktrliice. 
A paper fly-cage, dangled from iwb ceiUii|^9 
to which M oocasioBally raised his e^ la 
glooniy thought ; and| as the heedless mteeta 
hovered round the gaudy net-work. Mi; 
Bumlile would heave a deep sigh, while a 
more gloomy shadow overspread his coanta- 
. nance. Mr. Bumble was meditating, and it 
might be that the insects brought to mind 
some painful passage in his own past life. 

Nor was Mr. Bumble's gloom the only 
thing calctdated to awaken a pleasing me- 
lancholy in the bosom of a spectator. There 
were not wanting other appearances, and 
those closely connected with ms own person, 
which announced that a gnat change had 
taken place in the poaition of his aflkira. 
The laced coat and the cocked hat, where 
were they? He still wore knee-breechea 
and dark cotton stockings on his nether 
limbs, but they were not the breeches. The 
coat was wide-skirted, and in that respect 
like the coat, but, oh, how different! The 
mighty cocked-hat was replaced by a modest 
round one. Mr. Bumble was no longer a 

Mr. Bumble had married Mrs. Gomey, 
and was master of the workhouse. Another 
beadle had come into power, and on him 
the cocked hat, gold-laced coat, and ttaff, 
had all three descended. 

** And to-morrow two months it was 
doner' said Mr. Bumble, with a sigh. 
** It seems a age.'' 

Mr. Bumble might have meant that he 
had concentrated a whole existence of happi> 
ness into the short space of eight weea; 
but the sigh — there was a vast d^ of mean- 
ing in the sigh. 

** 1 sold myself," said Mr. Bumble, pursu- 
ing the same train of reflection, ** for six 
tea-spoons, a pair of sugar-tongs, and a 
milk-pot, with a small quantity of second- 
hand f urn iter, and twenty pound in money. 
I went very reasonable—cheap, dirt cheap.** . 

" Cheap 1" cried a shrill voice in Mr. 
Bumble's ear : *' You would have been dear 
at any price; and dear enough I paid for 

Mr. Bumble turned and encountered the 
face of his interesting consort, who, imper- 
fectly comprehending the few words she nad 
overheard of his complaint, had hasaided 
the foregoing remark at a venture. 

" Mrs. Bumble, ma'am !" said Mr. Bum- 
ble, with sentimental sternness. 

** Well," cried the lady. 

*< Have the goodness to look at me,'' said 
Mr. Bumble, fixing his eyes upon her. 

** If she stands such a eye as that," said 
Mr. Bumble to himself, ** she can stand 
anything. It is a eye I never knew to fail 
with paupers, and if it fails with her, my 
power is gone." 

Whether an exceedingly small expantioo 



of eye is Biifficieni to quell pau^rs, who, 
being lightly feci, are in do JKty high condi- 
tion, or whether the late Mrs. Comey was 
particularly proof against eagle glances, are 
matters of opinion. The matter of fact is, 
that the matron was in no way overpowered 
by Mr. Bumble's scowl, but, on the contrary, 
treated it with great disdain, and even raised 
a laugh thereat, which sounded as though it 
were genuine. 

Ob hearing this most unexpected sound, 
Mr. Bnmble looked first incredulous, and 
afterwards amased. He then relapsed into 
his former state ; nor did he rouse himself 
until his attention was again awakened by 
the voice of his partner. 

. ** Are you going to sit snoring there all 
day ?" inquired Mrs. Bumble. 

** I am going to sit here as long as I think 
proper, ma'am," rejoined Mr. Bumble ; 
*' and although I was noi snoring, I shall 
8nore> gape, sneeze, laugh, or cry, as the 
humour stnkes me, such being my preroga- 

** Tour prerogative 1" sneered Mrs. Bum- 
ble with inefiabie contempt. 

*^ I said the word, ma'am,'' observed Mr. 
Bumble. *' The prerogative of a man is to 

*' And what's the prerogative of a woman, 
in the name of goodness ?" cried the relict 
of Mr. Comey deceased. 

** To obey, ma'am," thundered Mr. Bum- 
ble. '^ Your late unfortunate husband should 
have taught it you, and then, jwrhaps, he 
might have been alive now. I wish he was, 
poor man I" 

Mrs. Bumble, seeing at a glance that (he 
decisive moment had now arrived, and that a 
blow struck for the mastership on one side or 
other, must necessarily be final and condu- 
aive, no sooner heard this allusion to the 
dead and gone, than she dropped into a chair, 
and, with a loud scream that Mr. Bumble 
was a hard-hearted brute, fell into a paroxysm 
of teara. 

He eyed his good ladv with looks of great 
satisfaction, and begged in an encouraging 
manner that she would cry her hardest, the 
exercise being looked upon by the fSiicuIty as 
strongly conducive to health. 

'* It opens the lungs, washes the counte- 
nance, exercises the eyes, and softens down 
the temper," said Mr. Bumble; "so cry 

As he discharged himself of this pleasantry, 
Mr. Bumble took his hat from a peg, and 
putting it on rather rakishly on one side, as 
a man might do who felt he had asserted his 
superiority in a becoming manner, thrust his 
hands into his pockets, and sauntered towards 
the door with much ease and waggishness 
depicted in his whole appearance. 

Now Mrs. Comey, that was, had tried the 
tears, because they were less troublesome 

than a manual assault ; but she was qtdte 
prepared to make trial of the latter mode o(- 
proceeding, as Mr. Bumble was not long in 

The first proof he experienced of the fact 
was conveyed in a hollow sound, immediately 
succeeded b^ the sudden flying off of his hii 
to the opposite end of the room. This preli- 
minary proceeding laying l>are his head, the 
expert lady, clasping him tight round the 
throat with one hand, inflicted a shower of 
blows (dealt with singular vigour and dexte- 
rity) upon it with the other. This done, she 
created a little variety by scratching his £Eice 
and tearing his hair off, and having by this 
time inflicted as much punishment as she 
deemed necessary for the offence, she pushed 
him over a chair, which was luckily weU 
situated for the purpose, and defied him to 
talk about his prerogative again if he dared. 

** Get up," said Mrs. Bumble in a voice' 
of command, " and take yourself away from 
here, unless you want me to do something - 

Mr. Bumble rose with a very rueful ooun- 
tenapce, wondering much what something 
desperate might be, and picking up his haV 
looked towards the door. 

" Are you going ?" demanded Mrs. Bum-' 

" Certainly, my dear, certainly," rejoined 
Mr. Bumble, miaking a quicker motion 
towards the door. " I didn't intend to^l'm '■ 
going, my dear— you are so very violent, that ' 
really I " 

At this instant, Mrs. Bumble stepped 
hastily forward to replace the carpet, which 
had lieen kicked up m the scuffle, and Mr. 
Bumble immediately darted out of the room 
without bestowing another thought on his 
unfinished sentence, leaving the late Mrs. 
Corney in full possession of the field. 

Mr. Bumble was fairly taken by surprise, 
and fairly beaten. He had a decided bnlly- 
ing propensity, derived no inconsiderable 
pleasure from the exercise of petty cruelty, 
and consequently was, (it is needless to say,) 
a coward. 

But the measure of his degradation was 
not yet full. After making a tour of the 
house, and thinking for the first time that 
the poor laws really were too hard upon peo- 
ple, and that men who ran away from their 
wives, leaving them char^ble to the parish, 
ought in justice to be visited with no jMinish- 
ment at all, but rather rewarded as merito- 
rious individuals who had suffered much, Mr. 
Bumble came to a room where some of the 
female paupers were usually employed in 
washing the parish linen, and whence the 
sound of voices in conversation now pro- 

" Hem !" said Mr. Bumble, summoning 
up all his native dignity. ** These women, 
at least, shall continue to respect the prero- 



galive* Hallo I hallo, tliera !— what do you 
mean by this noise, you hussies ?" 

Wilh these wofds Mr. Bumble opened the 
door, and walked in with a very fierce and 
aiigry manner, which was at once exdianged 
toe a most humitiated and cowering air as 
his eyes unexpectedly rested on the form of 
hi^ lady wife. 

" My dear," said Mr. Bumble, « I didn't 
know you were here.** 

** Didn't know 1 was here !*' repealed Mrs. 
Bumble. << What do you do here ?*' 

** X thought they were talking rather too 
much to be doing their work properly, my 
dear,** replied Mr, Bumble, glancing dbtract- 
edly at a couple of old women at the wash- 
tub, who were comparing notes of admiration 
at the workhouse-master's humility. 

'^ You thought they were talking too 
much ?** said Mrs. Bumble. << What busi- 
ness is it of yours?** 

*• Why, my dear^*' urged Mr. Bumble 

" What business is it of yours ?** demanded 
Mrs. Bumble again. 

<*Jt's very true yon*re matron here, my 
dear,'* submitted Mr. Bumble; « but I 
thought you mightn't be in the way just 

<* I'U tell you what, Mr. Bumble,** re- 
tamed' his lady, ** we donH want any of your 
interfereuee, and you're a great deal too fond 
of foking yottff nose into things that don't 
coocera you^ making everybody in the house 
lauffh the moment vour back is turned, and 
n^akiiig yourself look like a fool every hour in 
thed^. Be off; comel" 

Mr. Bumble, seeing with exemciating 
feelings the dehght of the two old paupers 
wh* were tittering together most rapturously, 
hesltnted for an instant Mrs. Busoble, 
whose paUenee brooked no delay, caught up 
a. bowl of soapsuds, and motioning him 
towards the door, ordered him insftautly to 
depart, on pain of receiving the contenti upon 
lnep)itly person* 

What eould Mr. Bumble do? He looked 
dejectedly round, and slunk away ; and as ho 
neaehed the door the titterings of the paupers 
hsoke into a shrill chnckle of irrepressible 
dsUght. It wanted but this. He wasdegnBi* 
ded in their eyes j he had lost oast and station 
hetee the very paupers ; he had fatltun firom 
all the height and pomp of beadle^ip to the 
lowest depdi of the mest smibbed heapeckeryi 
« All In two months ?* said Mr. Bumble, 
Bllsd with dismid thoughts. <* Two months 
—not more than two months ago I was not 
only my own master, but everybody else's, so 
fiuE us^thtt parochial w«±hou^ was doncemed, 
and now |r— ," 

It was too much. Mr. Bumble boxed the/ 
eats of the boy who opened the gate k>i him, 
(for he hail reached the portal in his reverie,) 
and walked distractedly into tiie street. 

(From Blackwood.') 
A BOTANIST with a conscience wiH under- 
stand the saying, that no wet;ds grow on earth 
except in the heart of man. 

Man is a substance dad in shadows. 
Every man*s follies ate the caricature re- 
semblances of his wisdom. 

They who deride the name of God, are the 
most unhappy of men, except those who 
make a trade of honouring Him. And how 
many of the self-styled, workl-applauded 
holy, are mere traffickers in the temple, set- 
ting so much present self-denial against so 
much future enjoyment! 

God is the only voluntary Being to whom 
we caimot, without absurdity and self-contra- 
diction, attribute aught arbitrary and self- 
willed. And, to doubt that we can know 
and comprehend the principles by which he 
acts, is to deny both that our reason is a 
gleam of his light, and that he has ever re- 
vealed himself to us at alL 

Lies are the ghosts of truths— the maHks; 
of faces. 

Whether is it nobler to dwell in Paradise 
and dream of a cabbage-garden, or to \vi9 
among pot-herbs and believe in Paradise ? 

The three great perversions of education 
are those winch tend to make children 
respectively — Dwarfs — Monkeys — Puppets. 
The Dwarfs are the prodigies, the over- 
sharpened, over-excited, over-accomplished, 
stunted men. In these, as there is no fulness 
and steadiness, such as belong only to mature 
life, and yet there is the appearance of these^ 
the very principle of the thing is a quackery 
and falsehood. The Monkeys are the spoilt; 
the indulged petted creatures of mere self- 
will and appetite, in whom the human as 
distinguished fmm the animal is faint and 
undeveloped. The weakness of mind which 
tmins such children, and delights in them, 
is that which led the ladies of another gene- 
ratioa to keep natural and genuine apes for 
their amusement. The Puppets are produced ' 
by ^e plan of deadening, petrifying, the 
mind, teaching words by rote, compelling 
obedience for its own sake, and not for that 
of a future moral freedom. These ar9 the 
things that move in public only, as the wires 
of masters and committees guide. But, 
because the life cannot be altogether crashed 
and turned back, it asserts itsra secretly in & 
sense of benumbed misery and corroding 
hatred. The first cla^ spoken of ato thoso 
in whom a true ideal is misapplied. Tti<6 
second, those in whom none is aimed ai^. 
The third, those in whom the ideal pursued is 
i^ogetlier false and wretched. 

Speech is a pump by which we raise antl' 
pour out the water from the great lakti of 
Thought — whither it ftows back ngarn. 




The remarkable youth, Gustuve AdolpKe 
Bassle, from the Hague, aged about twelve 
years, who exhibited such extraordinary 
powers of memory, attended by his father. 
Chevalier Bassle, was introduced yesterday 
morning to His Royal Highness the Duke 
of Sussex. He was accompanied by the 
Sicilian youth, Mangiamele. The illus- 
trious duke, together with His Royal High- 
ness the Prince of Capua, the Duke of 
Somerset, Mr. F.' Baily, Mr. Children, vice- 
president of the Royal So<aety, Mr. Christie, 
secretary of the Royal Societv, Major 
Jervis, Chevalier Berardi, Mr. Murchison, 
Mr. Sheepshanks, and several distinguished 
members of the Royal Society were present 
If the public were gratified with the facility 
and cheerfokieiff with whidi this talsnted 
]ad> Gustmre Adolphe Bassle, replied to a 
giwit variety of questions on Saturday^ at 
the Royal Institution, the astonishment and 
delight of His Royal Highness and his dis* 
tingui^ed friends, at this day's eiLhilHtion, 
were much enhanced by the ease «n4 exact- 
ness with which Gustave Bassle answered a 
number of difficult miscellaneous questions 
in French, Dutch, German, and English; 
The other youth, Mangiamele, exhibited 
also great powers when his attention was 
directed to difficult questions in cubic equa- 
tions, and other matters of a like complica- 
ted nature ; but his idea of calculation was 
of purely natural and simple algebraic and 
arithmetical properties ; he had no idea of 
the negative roots of quadratic or cubic 
questions. The opinion of some distin- 
guished mathematicians present was, that 
his mathematical talent fell far sbart of 
that of George Bidder and Zera Colbsra^ 
though they admitted it to be very great. 
The qualities of these lads^ however, eannot 
admit of a fair eomparisoB. In the pr^sen^ 
case the talent of each youth was pecuHsr i 
that of Gustave Adolphe B&ssle may be 
termed an ambulatory encyclopaedist's ; that 
of Mangiamele a mental algeoraist's. The 
success of the former depended upon aa 
effort of memory ; that of the latter, as His 
Royal Highness well observed, on the fa- 
culty of arrangement and the perception of 
locality. His Royal Highness had intimated 
his desire that Mr. Deville, the phrenologist, 
should attend, without apprising him with 
the object of the requisition, or the qualifi- 
cations and talents of the parties to be 
examined. Mr. Deville described very 
minutely to His Royal Highness and 
the company, the peculiar organization 
and faculties of both youths, which was 
considered a highly curious, and, as far 
aa the company had the means of judging 
of it, a very correct iUnstration of Mr. 
Detille's discriminative talent. Mr. Deville 
then showed to His Royal Highness what 
was considered a fur greater curiosity, the 

profiles of the bust of Zera Colbem, the 
celebrated American calculator, at various 
periods of life, exemplifying the develope- 
ment and changes of the external form of 
the brain, consequent on improved educa- 
tion and association with intellectual per*' 
sons, under circumstances favourable to the' 
enlargement of the higher moral faculties. 
Gustave Bassle first gave the relation of 
the circumference to the diameter of a circle, 
considered as unity, to 155 figures, without 
one fault. After which the persons present 
demanded at pleasure, the 35th, 98th, 73rd, 
140th, and 106th figures, and so forth, 
which he told almost instantly, without hesi- 
tation. He was then asked the 8pecifi<^ 
gravity of various substances; of ivory, silver, 
ether, &c., to which he gave answers with 
equal despatch and readiness; the dates' 
of remarkable epochs ; the distances of 
Saturn, of Mars, their proper movements, 
relative masses with respect to the earth, &c.; 
the whole of the possible moves of the knight 
and other pieces at chess; various portions of 
poetry ; and a number of interesting matters 
connected with sacred and profane history, 
geography, and science. Alter this display, 
His Royal Highness inriked the party to a lun- 
dieon, and concluded by addressing to both 
youths the mest-omdescending and paternal 
counsel, with a promise of recommendatioa 
to the British Association at Newcastle. — 
Courier, July, 183j*. 

Is to embrace several novelties. In the» 
first place, we are to havejive-poundpieeeti 
These will be agreeable handlmg^ we doubt 
not : our " itching palm" already fancies it 
feels the sort of sensation which will be 
communicated to it, when it closes over 
their handsome proportions. Then come 
double eovereigns, liKe Siamese twin-kings ; 
a good '* take" for any sort of people, who, 
are clever enough to command them. The 
scale then descends through all the usual 
notes and intervals of sovereigns, half-sove« 
reigns, crowns, half-crowns, shillings, six- 
pences, and groats ; the '* diapason closfog 
full" in the Queeu*s Maunday moniee-^et 
name to be given to certain diminutive forms 
of silver money; tIz. threepenny, two^ 
nehny, and penny pieces. Phtaneology and 
taw are very differently circumstanced ; and/ 
while it is easy to make a people acoomoACK 
date themselves to a new coinage of money* 
it is BO such easy thing to enforce a new 
coinage of words. We have no donbt but 
the Queen's Maunday-tnoney vrill be very 
respectfully pocketed by all her majesty's 
grateful subiects; but we have stroll^ 
doubts of this money being called the 
Queen's Maunday »money, ^though the 
proclanwtion strictly enjoins, amongst otbeR 
things << that Uiey be ao called. ''-—i^c^^n 


THI2 MllOtm. 

€^ fiati^erer. 

Euphrates Expedition. — We have been 
bmsm&X wUh & tight of letters to Mr. Win- 
^lOsteri of this city) from hu soiii one of the 
omcefii employed in the Euphrates expedi- 
tion. The last date in May 30 ; and, fronf 
ihe , following extract, which is all we have 
room for this week> it will be 8een that the 
great and important object of the eKpedition^ 
has been fully accomplished :— ** We left' 
Btissbrah on the ITtht atiwo/r. m., and 
reached Babylon on the 24th, at' the same 
hour, after a most arduous, but highly-suc-^ 
cessful, passage through the Lumtoome 
and Babylonian marshes; — thus removing' 
the great barrier to the upward nagivation 
of this noble, river, and thus accomplishingj' 
for the first time^ an achievement of the^ 
highest national yn'portauce.** — ^^erefeen' 
Herald, July, J838. 

Prtfitahle Forgery.^ The bichelik (says 
a recent traveller,) is a coin much used in 
anercantSe transactions at Smyrna! It is of 
the value of ^Ye piastres, or equal to a shil- 
ling sterling ; and Is rather Inrger than a 
half-crown. It is made of copper, washed 
with silver. These coins have afforded as. 
hrge a -profit to' the Frank, metehants, as- 
any article in which they hnw traded : for,' 
a bichelik being sent over to Birm ngham,: 
was imitated so closely,, that it wait impos-. 
aible to discover, the slightest difference 
from thos^ manufactured at Consti^ntinople. 
These transactions must have been very In- 
«rativ«'to those engaged in them ; as the' 
charge, in Birmio^ham could not exceed 
twopence each, and they are worth a shil- 
Bng in Turkey. W. G. €. 

** I have lived,** said the indefatigable Br. 
E. D. Clark^ '< to know, that the greajC 
secret of human happiness is this— nevei^ 
snffer your energies to stagnate. The old 
lidage of * too many irons in the fire,* con- 
veys an abominable fidsehood. You cannot 
have too many: pokers, tongs, and all — 
keep them all going !'' 

It is for the unfortunate alone to iudge of 
the unfortunate. The. puffed- up heart of 
Prosperity cai^pot understand the sensitive 
feelings of Misfortune.— CAa/i0aif6rpaii<2, 

Siencil-fFark mi Modem.— Ki^t the-ibtt 
which consumed the honses of FarliaaieBty 
almost the only vestige of the ooee oMgatfi- 
eent paintings in St. Stepheoa' Ch»eT ia^ 
dicated figures of angt^ ctrfyiag Vfoc* 
them fine t^>estry hangingii. There an 
several items of payment to J. T^rnbetre for 
*• leaves of tin, to make^ the pryiiles for th« 

J tainting of the ohapeL'^ Another item is 
or one pair of sbe«rs to c«t the leaves of 
tin. The prints were plaeed on the marble 
oohmms in the chapd ; and a writer in the 
GetUleman^s M&gmzim, (vol. v., new seriest 

p. d5,> sKys, that *' since the fire of (MO' 
ber, 1834, on one of those marble colnnins> 
he saw one of th^m which had indeed en- 
tirely lost all its colours by the action of the ' 
flames ; hot its substance was still consider- 
able, and raised in high relief upon the mar- 
ble. It is prett;^ dear that they were pro- 
duced by what is now called stencil-work. ' 
Perforations were made in the leaves of the 
tin, according to the parts required to be 
covered with a certain pattern ; and thus a 
thick coat of paint was worked into the ca- 
vity, and left on the surface in high relief, 
having almost the same effect as modem 
inouldings in putty, composition, or pafier' 
nidehe, and, at the same time, of a variety 
of brilliant colour».**—Archiiecturai Mag. 

It is an extraordinary, but tolerahly-,weU 
authenticated feet, that, ' down east, : they 
have a way of curing violent la mo n c as e s, 
by administering crutches in small doses ojf 
firom one to fifty. — Oewega Telegraph. 
• The first almanack ever published was in 
1577 : it was termed, « The Almanack ' for ' 
25 years,'' and was printed in ROmaii 

The Buffalonian says', and we have no ' 
reason to doubt the fac^ that Mr. Abner, 
Bennett, of that place, being more than 
<x>mmonly tall, and hav«g held a long cbn-^ 
versation with a jacky-tnin-soul. merchant, 
there, actually, at parting^ made a bow^ to , 
his cane in the comer, and seizing the mer- ' 
chant by his head, walked off ^th him ibr. 
stead of the stick ! 

Cockney ^t/. — Two gentlemen took a 
boat at Blackfriars' Bridge, to go to the 
Tower. One of them asked the other, who 
sat bc»side him, if he could tell what coun- 
tryman tiie waterman was. • He replied he 
could not. ''^Then," said the friend, «I 
oan : he is a /Ze-mon.'* A cockney being 
tokl the above, said the pun wai Ufkerry 

Birth-place of Columbw,—The foUowbg 
is from a Genoa letter, of recent date : — 
« The real locality of the birth-^lace of 
Christopher Columbus has not been nitherto 
known. The biographers ol this illustrious 
navigator — who all agree that he was bom 
in the state of Genoa — differ as to exact lo- 
caH^. All doubt on the subject is now 
removed. M. Isnardi, the famous Fiedr^ 
montese archnologist, has discoveredj, in, 
the arehives of Oeaoa, authentic proof fbat, 
Cdumbus was bom at Colognetto, in ^e^ 
lepuhSc of Genoa.** 

LONDON: PrtuttimipMtkti^mJ.LIMBtmD; 
143, Hhmtd, Otmr Smmtot Jb«M>< mi *^ im 
aU Bo^kuUer* and Newmmu-^AMmt im FAB 18, 
O. W, U. RBTNOLDS, Awe*, AfMM, mi jf ■«- 
rham Ubtarv, 15, Rw Nmne 8L A m mitim Fant^—'In 

Cfte Mivvot 




[Ptan Stf. 


(£^ a Correip<mdent) 

Tbx inbabiteiitt of the ancient boraugh of 
Newark have leeently added to their many 
improvement!! in the place the above very 
{^easing edifice. It wai erected under acta 
of Parliament, 1 and 2 WilHam IV., by vo- 
kuitaty cootributionB. The first stone was 
kid ah the 16th of Augtist, 1836, by James 
Thorpe, Req. ; and in August of the follow- 
ing year, it was consecmted by the Arch* 
bishop of York. 

Christ Church is situated in Lombard-' 
street, opposite to the mansion of John- Fox, 
Esq. It is built in the early EngliA stykj 
voder the superintendauce of W. A. Nicliel- 
aoo^ Esq., of Lincoln. It has an open roof 
of ^ne span. The patronage of the church 
ia vested in five trustees : vis. the Rev. Jo- 
■eph Major, Rector of Soutii Collingham, 
Notts ; the Rev. C. T. PHirantree, Rector of 
CUgrpool, Lincohi; P. R. Falkner, Esq.; 
James Tborpe, km. Esq. ; and Geoi^ Har^ 
v^. lient., of Newark. 

Hm efndowment is ^1,001 $8. 6tf, ac^ 
eliding to the abow'acts oTpailiaiiteint. - 

Vol. xxjor^ H 

The church, in every respect, ia, well 
adapted for the pious purposes of the inhar 
bitants, being large enough to hold upwaids 
of 1,000 persons. It is heated by means of 
hot water, and lighted in the winter season 

The cost of erecting Christ Church was 
near j^3,000, exclusive of site, iencing, &c. 

The living is a perpetual curacy ; the pre- 
sent incumbent being the pious and truly-re- 
spected minister, the Rev. Robert Simpson^ 
A.M.,to whom our acknowledgmenta are due 
(or these piurticulars. 

Besidea the above elegnnt modem alnie- 
ture, Newark has to boast of one of the 
largest and most elegant paredbiai^httrches 
iu England, dedicated to £k. Mary Mpiair 
lene. It exhibits portioBs in all the styles of 
Kngliah aichitecture, and . is a cKuciform 
stnteturey consisting of a nave, aUlea, traa^ 
aepts, choir, and sepulchral chumjia, widi « 
loAy western tower, surrooimleu by a fin^ 
oe^gpnalq^ire* The ba^ m^ Hie ^owe^ ia 
Nutipiuv acid in the nave are"(«o Nutmaa 



piers j^fhe choir is of exquisite workman- 
ship, with ancient stone and oak stalls, ela^ 
borately carvi*d. : It is separated from the 
naye by a richly-carved oak ficr««n. In this 
part of ^be edifice is one of the largest en- 

clesiastical laws are the most Taliiable aa* 
thorities for the early history of the popular 
superstitions ; some, in particular, are full 
of cnrioud detailti of this nature ; a few Kpe- 
cfmens of which mny amuse some of our 

graved bratives in the kingdQni».elahoralfily„ renders. Among othern^ are the following 
urnamented, to the memory of Allan Fie- notices : — 

loyog, who died in 1361. 


Oh, dieek not, thouKlitlest parent. Childhood*! tear 1 
Let htm pour out the sorrows of his breast. 
And know that thou, too. feelest them, and best 

Too soon come iron davs, and thuuxhts that sear 

Young Virtue soch as his : the Child revere ; 
Thit, while his limbs enlarge with man imprest. 
His little heart glow freely with the rest ; 

-Nor learn alone one coward lesson— Pear. 

Open thy heart tu me, iugenoous Boy I 
And know by thine own tears what 'tis to weep. 

By thine own mirth how blfssed to cnjov ; — 
Truth part thy lips, not niggard Caution keepj 

Open thy heart— no narrow door for Sin, 

But wide, "that all the virtues may lush in.** 

Time was that Death and I were bitterest fbes. 

And oft I pictured him. with noiseless feet,^ 

Threading the busy crowds fVom street to street. 
While his fell finger louoird and thinn'd I heir lows ; 
And still the waves of Life did round him close. 

And then the tyrant left his wonted beat. 

Stealing *mong children at their play, unmeet 
For his strong grasp— and chill'd their vernal rose. 
Bat now, methinks. a kinder form he takes, — 

The t^nod Physician, bringing anodyne 
For aching heiirts ; and oft his glass he shakes 

To Fpeed Lifers woes, that with the sands combine. 
Now. like a gentle friend, my pillow makes. 

And. with soft pressure, lays his hand in mine. 
IFrom a Collection of delicious Sonnets in Bladt- 
wood's Magazine, August, 1838. 



*^ Thbrb is no subject of inquiry rt'latini^ to 
the hidtory of a people more interestingly 
than its popular mythology and supersti- 
tions. In these we trace the early lorma- 
tTon of nations, their identity or analogy, 
their changes, as well as the inner texture 
of the national character, more deeply than 
In other circumstances, even than in lan- 
Ifuage itself." 

The light of the Oofipel dispelled the 
most degrading superstitions of our coun- 
trymen, such as the worship of the old 

"If any men destroy another by witch- 
craft,* let him fast seven years : three on 
bread and water, and, during the other four^ 
three days a week on bread and water." ^ 

'' if any one observe lots, or divination^ 
or keep his wake (watch) at any wells, or 
at any other created things, except at God's 
church, let him fast three years ; the first 
on bread and water, and the other two, on 
Wednesdays and Fridays, on bread and wa- 
ter ; and the other days let him eat meat, 
but without flesh." 

** The same for a woman, who useth anj 
witchcraft to her child, or who draws it 
through the earth at the meeting of roads ; 
because that is great heathenness-" 

'< If a mouse fall into liquor, let it be 
taken out, and sprinkle the liquor with holy 
water ; and if it be alive, the liquor may be 
used, but if it be dead, throw the liquor out, 
and clean the vessel." 

'< He. who uses anything that a dog or a 
mouse has eaten off, or a weasel polluted, if 
he do it knowingly, let him sing a hundced 

Ssalms ; and if he know it not, let him sing 
fty psalms." 

<* He who gives to others the liquor that 
a mouse or weasel has been drowned in, if 
he be a layman, let him fast three days ; if 
he be a churchman, let him sing three hun- 
dred usalms. And if he did it without hia 
knowledge, but afterwards knew it, let him 
sinic the psalter." 

*' We are ashamed," says the writer in a 
Saxon homily, in the public library of the 
University of Cambridge, «to tell all the 
scandalous divinations that every man nseth 
through the devil's teaching, either in 
taking a wife, or in going a journey, or in 
brewing, or at the asking of sometlung 
when he begins an}»thing, or when anyMii^ 
is bom to him.'' And, again : ^ Seme men 
are so blind, that they bring their oflbringn 
to immoveable rocks, and also to trees^ and 
to wells, as witches teach ; and will not na^ 
derstand how fOoKshly they de» or how ^e 

Pagan deities ; yet, at the present day, we l'^'*** "^"^'i ^l *^® '*rM^\i.'"'^ ^ 
have some districts where aunewtitinnM *'*«"»' *>' »^«"l *»•«"' ^''^n ^^ themselKg 

some districts where superstitions 
still retain their strong hold on the pea- 
santry. In fact, I think that most people, 
even jimong the learned, are more or less 
#0 inclined. How many persons, for in- 

* As A Inmentable proof that there nte many per- 
sons who now belkre in tlie power of i»ild«», wa 
snbjoiu tlie fbllowiofr eztmct from the Bntk Hor^UL 
Mifty, 1830 :— " At ayillase three miltw from Taoo- 
ton, a poor girl, about eijthteen years of age, is no^ 

itance, are there who will not, at this day, 5»^. «Ppn»«hinK the grave after a W illness fron 

«pen a new «hop or eommence business, Jj JSSgSHr^-SStSiSfl^J^rf^^ 

•larrj', on a Friday, or durmg Lent ! Su- at night open pea-knives iipder her patients pillowy 

lierstitioos as all this is, it is nevertheless aMw«li.aharpened scythe-blades nnler the b^wtth 

itX», »viewof keeping off the 'Fitch.* to whose banetal 

-.nie Anglo-Saxon penjtentiwiek toSbSwSr'*^ th.whol.rfta.J.n.l*.'. 


never fftir from the place.*' ' In fact, as the 
same early writer observes, " every one who 
trtuts in divination)!, either by fowls, or by 
sneezings, or by horses, or by dogn, he is no 
Christian, but a notorious apostate.'' -— 
Among the many Latin penetentialia in the 
British Museum, there is one which is very 
full in its enumeration of such offences 
against "Christendom.'' Amongst other 
offenders, are here enumerated, — 

" He who endeavours, by any incantation 
or magic, to take away the stores of milic, 
or honey, or other things belonging to ano- 
ther, and to acquire them himself. 

"He who, deceived by the illusion of 
hobgoblins, believes and confesses that he 
goes or rides in the company of her, whom 
the foolisji peasantry call Herodias or 
Diana, and with immense multitude, and 
that he obeys her commands. 

"He who prepares with three knives in 
the company of persons, that they may pre- 
destine happiness to children who are going 
to be borti there. 

"He who makes his offering to a tree. 
Of to water, or to anything except a church. 

"They who follow the custom of the 
Pagans, in in<^uiring into the future by ma- 
gicftl incantations on the first of January, 
or begin works on that day, as though they 
would on that account prosper better the 
whole year. 

" They who make ligatures, or incanta- 
tions, and various fascinations with magical 
charms, and hide them in the grass, or in a 
tree, or in the path, for the preservation of 
the cattle. 

" He who places his child on the roof, 
or in a furnace, for the recovery of his 
health, or for this purpose uses any charms, 
or characters, ot magical figment, or any 
art, unless it be holy prayers, or the liberal 
art of medicine. 

"'He who shall say any charm in the col- 
lecting of medicinal herbs, except such as 
the paternoster and the credo." 

Many of the customs alluded to in the 
foregoing extracts may be traced, under 
different forms, up to the present day ; and 
none more so than well-worship, (some of 
the ceremonies of which are still performed 
in different parts of our island,) and also in 
birds and animals. Among the former may 
be ranked the cuckoo. But, in the Teu- 
tonic mythology, this bird was not, as at 
present, the emblem of conjugal infidelity; 
It played a far different part. It was the 
belief, and is so still in some parts, that if 
any body noted the number of times the 
cuckoo repeated its note, the first time he 
heard U in the spring, it would tell him the 
noraber of years he had to live. This su- 
prs^tion exists now .in some parts of Eng- 
uiod<^ Cceaar* of Hiesterbach, tells a storyi, 
•Bout ▲. 0. 1391, of a man who, to sava ua 

H 9 

soul, was on the point of entenog a mo* 
nasterv, and t)ecoming a monk ; buty on his 
way there, he chanced to hear the cuckoo 
for the first time. He stopped to count tha 
number of repetitions, and finding them to 
be twenty-two, " Oh !" said he, "since I 
shall be sure to live twenty-two years, what 
is the use of mortifying myself in a monas* 
tery all this time ? Ill e*en go home and 
live merrily for twenty years, and it will be 
all in good time to betake me to a monaa- 
tery for the other two.'' And so sayinf* 
he went his way. 

Doubtless, formerly the people of Eng* 
land believed that storms, fluods, conflagra* 
tions, and numerous fatal accidents, were 
brought about by demoniacal agency}— 
and the monks invented strange stories ra- 
ta live to the great power of devils, in order 
that they might the better keep the people 
more under their subjection. 

An inediled English poet of the thirteenth 
century, after explaining, in a popular 
manner, the nature of thunder and light- 
ning, proceeds to show how it happens to 
cause so much mischief; and says, if any 
devils happen to be caught in a storm, they 
fly as quick as wind, and kill men, and de- 
stroy trees, Ac, which they meet in their 
way. This is the reason that people are 
killed in a storm.* 

Or. the superstitions relative to fairieij>, 
elves, trees, &c. <fec., we must reserve for 
another paper. We are chiefly indebted 
for the preceding remarks to the very abl^ 
review of Dr. Gomm's German Mythology, 
in the Foreign Quarterly Review, 

Mr. Gkokgk Goldsmith came to New 
York shortly after the war of the revolution, 
with goods aud credit from his native couutiyi 
England. He prospered in trade, married^ 
and was blessed with tivo children, l>eautifttl 
as father could wish; but they were girlsi 
and he wished fur a son. At length a son 
was born to inherit, as he said, his name and 
fortune. Years passed away : the daughters 
grew up, and were justly admired as elegant, 
accomplished, aud amiable. The son was 
turbulent at home, and mischievous at school 
— but, although a source of anxiety, aud oft- 
times misery to his father, he was still the 
favourite. He was received into the count- 
iug-house, and at the age of twenty-one taken 
into the firm of Goldsmith and Company. 

• Th« parish tegitUr of Welb. in NorfMUc. }S8k 
in TPCordioK the venlict of a jury relative to the deatli 
of thirut«n individiuls who had been drowned, givi;* 
it tJitts :— " Misled uppo* ye We«te Coaste comhif 
from Spain ; wtiose deaths were brought to pas bytho 
deteit»ble woorkin{( of an execrable witehof KtDg*a 
Lynu, whose name was Mother Gabley ; by the ^ofi* « 
ing. or rather labouring of certain eggs in a pailAjl of ^ 
cold water :—iAfterwards proved soffioiBaifyat tM 
arraignment of the said witch.** _ 



The oldest daughter was at this time 
twenty.four yean of age, tall, {(graceful, with 
*n fl^i^reeable countenauee, although not en« 
titled to the praise comprehended in the 
word « beautiful ;** for her complexiou was 
rather dark> her forehead too low, and her 
eye- brows approached uearer to each other 
than is consistent with the beau ideal of 
beauty ; which perhaps added to an expres- 
sion of her large black eyed, that indicated 
discontent — (an expression that had been 
increasing for the last four years). In short, 
Amelia G(^smith was habitually discon- 
tented, and had long wished for an establish- 
ment not only separate from her father's, but 
more splendid. She wished to marry a 
wealthy man, and her ambitious prospects 
had sensibly diminished. She had had ad- 
mirers, but they retired, either not encou- 
raged by her, or feeling disappointed upon 
more intimate knowledge of her character. 

^ Maty Goldsmith, her sister, had been in 
girlhood beautiful. Her brilliantly fair com- 
plexion, blue eyes, and flaxen curls, inclining 
to pale gold in colour, and shining brighter 
than the precious metal — her ever good hu- 
moured smile, decorating a face beaming 
with intelligence, had perhaps attracted 
admirers, who at first were more struck with 
the Juno-like port and stature of her sister : 
for Mary was some inches shorter than 
Amelia, and of most delicate and fragile 
form. She was more a likeness of her 
mother, as Amelia was by all said to resem- 
ble her father. Mary avoided admiration, 
aiid was devoted to reading and household 

Mr. Goldsmith had wished for a son—and 
he had a son given to him. He wished that 
he might be wise, good, and prosperous, but 
he had not taken the measures to make him 
such. Charles had been abandoned to him- 
self, or to instructors careless of his welfare : 
while his father's thoughts and actions were 
engrossed by mercantile <* operations." In 
one year after the wished- for son had been 
admitted to partnership, the house (ailed. 
Transactions not strictly honourable were 
discovered — the young man was involv«Hl in 
a quarrel with one of his companions in dis- 
sipation — a duel ensued, and Charles Gold- 
smith fell. 

Mr. GoMsmith did not long survive the 
rain of his commercial house, and the blast 
of his paternal hctpes. The mother and 
daughters were left in poverty. 

iRie friends of Mrs. Goldsmith interfered 
so far in her behalf as to place her in cir- 
citmitances, by which sKe could decently 
maintain herself and daughters, with their 
assistance. She opened a boarding-house. 
Mary became the principal support of the 
establishment; Amelia became mofe dis- 
contented; and althoujj^h an assisUnt in 
family, afl^rs, she willingly yielded prece- 

dence to her yotmger sister, and retired in 
melancholy mood to meditate on disappointed 
hopes, and to indulge the wish that even yet 
some rich man might ofi'er as a huslumd, 
and by his fortunes retrieve those of her aged 
mother, and her delicate sister, now evi' 
dently declining in health, and endeavouring 
to conceal, by a cheerful countenance, » 
tendency to pulmonary consumption. . Mary 
was always engaged m relieving or antici!- 
pating the labours of her mother— her pale 
face was dressed in smiles ~ she was, when 
seen, cheerfully doing her duty — and wheu 
she retired, it was to her book, her meditsr- 
tions, and her prayers, which were tho»e of 
resignation and thankfulness. 

Thus had {lassed two years, since th» 
opening of Mrs. Goldsmith's boarding-house, 
when a gentleman arrived from Ihe West 
Indies, and was introduced by his correspon- 
dent as a boarder. He was a man of forty 
years of age : an American, who had passed 
his youth in amassing riches, and with a 
broken constitution had come to visit hie . 
native state, Massachusetts; but having 
landed in New York, he pruposnd to pass 
a few days there. He was of ordinary ap- 
pearance in every respect; but gentle and 
courteous in his manners, and evidently 
delighted with the contrast presented 1^ . 
every thing around him, wheu compared to 
his life on a plantation in the West Indies. 

As soon as his circumstances l>ecaiiie 
known in the family, Amelia could not re* 
press the flattering thought that the wished' . 
jur hu8l>and had come. 

Mr. Crosfield, that was the planter's name^ . 
wanted a wife, now that he saw among his 
New York acquaintance such Uofnertie 
arrangements and happiness, as he had 
almost forgotten during his West India Ufo- . 
He saw with pleasure the delicate little 
Mary Goldsmith; but for some days had . 
only a (lassiog glance, by accident, of anetlMf 
and very di£brent figure— he saw a ;all aod^ 
majestic form, which vanished quickly frum 
his view, but not before two brilliant eyes 
had been momentarily fixed upon him, and 
then had been lowered to the floor, while a 
graceful curtsy answered his profound t>ow of 

Mr. Crosfield was introduced to Amelia 
Goldsmith, who had not yet appeared at ths 
table, and his admiration increased with her 
hopes that the deliverer had at last arrived. 
Her mother was to be made happy in con* 
petency as old age approached— her sister 
Mary was to be relieved from toil litUe 
suited to her strength-^perhaps her health 
perfectly restored by a sea-voyage— -and for 
.herself, wealth, splendour, admiration, and 

Both parties thus disposed, it may readily 
be imagined that if any obstacles intervened, > 
they were soon removed. Mr. Crosfield ; 



mm very rich, nnd very good teiMered, and 
very enxioas to be married ; aiicl althoagh 
not to refined or accompliahed as the family 
of the Goldsmith:!, he waa very much in love, 
and very generocu. 

The wished- for man had come, " offered," 
ftnd been accepted. The wished- for day 
arrived. The good Mrs. Goldsmith seemed 
as much delighted as Amelia. Mary sighed 
tad looked very pale, but occupied herself 
in prepanition for the wedding-feast of the 
evening, and in assisting to decorate the 
Inride, who had, f^r the first time since Mr. 
Crosiield's arrival, an appearance of dis- 

auiet and occasional melancholy. But when 
le appeared before the bishop of the dio- 
cese, the friends of the bridegroom, and 
those of her own family, with the usual 
attendimts, she shone with jewels, and 
attracted every eye by the splendour of 
her pure but daizling dress of white silk, 
eontrasting with the masses of her raven 
hair, and eyes as black, but now sparkling 
with a lustre never olwerved before. Her 
denaeanour was majestic and almost bold — 
and when the ceremony, as established by 
the episcopal church of America, had been 
gone through, it was . observed that she 
suppressed a smile that did not belong to 
the occasion. A wild, scornful, bitter, 

The bride and her attendants had retired. 
The bridegroom and guests were in the 
midst of glee — when Mary Goldsmith 
rushed into the apartment crying for help, 
aud was followed by her mother, who in- 
stantly fainted. All started from their seats 
— some, gathered around the older lady to 
support or recover her— others advanced 
inquiringly to the affrighted Mary — but an 
appalling spectacle drew every eye towards 
the door when the bride entered tearing her 
head-dress off^ and scattering the strings of 
pearls, which had supported her profusion 
of braided tresses, now flowing in wild 
disorder over her neck and shoulders. 

** Where is he," she cried. " Where is 
the destroyer of my peace and happiness ? 
Seize him— save me ! Bring him within 
my reach that I may revenge my wrongs, 
and wash away my shame in his blood 1" 
She dashed the jewels on the floor, and 
stamped on them. ** J am bought and sold 
for these! I urn a slave to one I hate !" 
Xbe bride was a raving maniac. 

The marriage ceremony had been per- 
formed in May. Months passed, and in 
September, Amelia, restored to health, and 
tenderly attached to her husband, (who had 
shown his affection by assiduous attentions 
during her malady,) looked forward again to 
happiness. It had been arranged that the 
family should visit Mr. Crosfleld's planta- 
tiobfii and pass the winter in the West 
Indies. They were to return to New York 

in the Spring. Mafy's pulrooiiary com- 
phtints wero to be relieved, perhaps cnred, 
by residence in a warmer climate. And 
now every wish, was centred in that of h 
prosperous voyage. The husband chartered 
a gallant ship^she was fitted for the accom- 
modation of his family alone. All was 
ready, and every one concerned breathed 
wishes for a fair wind and speedy departure. 
They are all on board. Frien<fo have taken 
leave, with smiles and tears, and waving: of 
hands and handkerchiefs. The wished-for 
gale is favourable ; and the bay, the city, 
Uie Highlands of Neversink disappear. 
The pilot returns, with letters and as- 
surances that all are on the smiling ocean 
and well. The ship was never heard of 
more. — New York Jmrtor, 


" Saturday is the general market and shop- 
ping day, and the time allotted by the chiefs 
to the natives to prepare their food for the 
ensuing week. At sunrise, the little shops 
on both the plantations are opened, to re-, 
deem the paper money, and purchase such, 
articles as the natives bring for sale. Crowds 
of them, in the rudest attire, or in no attire 
at all, early crowd the house. One brings', 
vegetables, another fish, fine tapas, mats, cu- 
riosities—in short, anything which they 
suppose the haoli (foreigner) to want. Wo- 
men leading fat pigs, which ever and anon \ 
they take in their arms, and press to their 
bosoms, to still their deafening and pro- 
longed lamentations, or to give the last fond 
embrace, join in the throng ; while dog and ^ 
fowl add their voices to the dulcet strain. — ' 
Then commences the barter. Knives, nee- 
dles, flints, calicoes, and all the numerous 
etcetera of a trading establishment, are spread 
in tempting array before their wistful eyes, 
and a scene of cheapening, undervaluing, 
and petty deception ensues, which would do 
credit to a semenarian belle, or require the 
pencil of a Cruikshauk to depict. The rigi- 
dity of the muscle in the face, which so pe- 
culiarly characterizes an Americau trader, 
rendering the features stiff' and uninviting, . 
forcibly contrasts with the varied expression, 
the shrug of the shoulder, and gesture of the 
limb, which so strongly implies what words ' 
are weak in conveying, and which no AanaAa ' 
fails in using in the greatest profusion, ac- 
companied with certain suspicious grunts, 
(which I strongly suspect are imitated from 
their favourite pets aud mess companions,) 
in conversing upon any subject in the least 
exciting. In fact, more meauing is con- 
veyed in a look, wink of the eye, or twitch of 
a muscle, as their manner of trading bears '- : 
ample testimony, than volumes of the king's 
English would express. Of all the arts of 



c;>vUiztid life, th^t pf cIomsc traclmf? is \hv iicst 
acquired by 8avag«>9, because it is the fii9t 
tau^^ht : but tbe^^e are at ^^enerous in distri- 
buting; the firuila of their. i«ade to their friernls 
pn^ families, m» they are aharp io acquiring 
them. After the shopa are doted, the re- 
mainder of the day is siieut in extra work or 
AnuweniKnt. A 3abbath heie is em^ibati- 
cally a period of rest, and present* a pleasiag 
contrast to tbe noise and hubbub of the pie- 
ceding day. At nine o'clock in the morning, 
luromoned by the shrill sound of the conch, 
filet of well-dressed nativei), coming from 
liill and dale* pouring from town and ham- 
lety are teen quietly wending their way to 
the house of God. Ther^, squatted, m tiieir 
manner, on tbe ground — the men occupying 
one side of the building, apd ^he women the 
other, they listen witli attention to the words 
of the preHcher, or mingle their voices in the 
songs of praii^B. i iiave attended religious 
meetings in many.vf the back villages in our 
own country, but in none of them have J ever 
nVitnested a greater i»eriuusness of manner, a 
more respectful demeanour, or devotional de- 
portment, than was here displayed. After 
the close of the service, they separated in the 
same silent manner. In the afternoon, a 
few attend a Bible Class, while others make 
friendly visits, or remain in their own habi- 
tations. But no riotous noise, or cries of 
profane merriment, are heard here. All is 
hushed; the same stillness which pervades 
the landscape in New-England on the Sab- 
bath, is felt ; and, like the pouring of oil 
over troubled waters, soothes the angry pas- 
sions, and invite man to hold cominuoiou 
with his Maker.'' 

[The above interesting sketch is from 
" The Hawaiian Spectatwr,'^ a periodical 
journal, published iu a quai^er of the globe, 
.where, fifty years ago, the rays of civi)i|tat.ion 
had not penetrated. It bears the imprint of 
Honolula, Oahu. Sandwich Islands; aud is 
dated January, 1838.] 

j^pttit ni Stie^cD^n^. 

emckb's comet. 
(From the Monthly Chronicle.') 
M. Enckk, an eminent astronomer of Ber- 
lin, bestowed more than ordinary care in the 
observation of this body during the early part 
of 1819. Where so small a part of the com- 
plete orbit could be observed, he felt that a 
proportionate degree of precision was indis- 
pensable. Any inaccuracy in the observed 
part would be exavcgerated in the much 
teuger portion to be discovered, and would 
ii\volve the solution he aimed at in more and 
more doubt, ^e succeeded, however, , in 
tracing the visible path of the comet with 
sufficient accuracy, to enable him to declare 
tM it was • fnjfnent of an eiitentive allip- 

tical curve, of a very 9val form) Us •i^dren>9 
length being about twice ita breadth; thai 
the sun was placed at one of the foci tea 
times nearer to one end of the oval ths^ to 
the other ; that the end of the oval nearest t» 
the sun was just within the orbit of the 
nearest planet — Mercury, while the further 
end of it reached nearly to the orbit of Ju- 

Having thus discovered the complete path 
in which this comet must have moved, the 
calculation of the time of its motion was 
easy. The period of completing its couri.ey 
and returniug to ihe same' point of its pathj 
was ascertained to be 1208 days. 

This discovery enabled astronomers to 
take a retrospect of its past history, and to 
ascertain which of its former visits had been 
noticed. It was accordingly found, that it 
was first seen in 1786, by Mechain and Mes- 
sier, two French astronomers; the latter of 
whom obtained such a reputation for disco- 
vering the pre.seoce of comets, that Louis 
XV. conferred upon him the soubriquet of 
Le Furet de CometeSf (the Comet Ferret.), 
Such was the di^culty of |)erceiving it, that 
these astronomers only obtained two obser- 
vations, which were quite insufficient for the 
calculation of its path. It wa« next seen by 
Miss Herschel, the aunt of Sir John Hers- 
chel, in 1795 ; and was, in the same year, 
observed by several European astronomers. — 
During its visit in 18t>5, it was, as we have 
already stated, observed ; and, on that occa- 
sion, its course through the system was suffi- 
ciently determined to identity it with that 
which it followed on its appearance in 1818- 

This body, which is now called Encke*s 
Cornet^ is, therefore, a regular member of the 
solar system, moving round the sun in obe- 
dience to the law of gravitation. Its motion 
differs in nothing from that of the planets, 
except in the greater ellipticity of ita paih. 
It is well known that the orbits of the pla- 
nets are nearly circular, are all nearly in the „ 
same plane, and the motion in them is all in 
the same direction. The orbit of Encke^s 
Comet is also nearly in the common plane of 
the planets* orbits, its inclination to the 
plane of the ecliptic being only thirteen de- 
grees. It moves round the sun in the same 
direction as the planets. 

Having succeeded in determining the pe- 
riodic time, and other ciicumstauces, con- 
nected with the motion of this comet^ Eucke 
woH enabled to predict its succeeding re- 
turns ; and it has fully verified his calcula- 
tions, by its several appearances in 1824$, 
1825, 1829, 1832, and 1835. 

It appears that, on the second of the pre- 
sent mou^b, the comet must pass our merir 
dian at twenty-three minutes past five in the 
motuing* aud on each suoceediug day wiU 
pi)9»it^4rlitr, until tlM kst.d^y ^ ^\^ moiai^^ < 

THK MmaoR. 


on wbic^ it will pass it at a quarter befuie 
ibut.iQ the moraiog. 

The point where it will cross the meridian 
on the second of the month will be thirty de- 
crees south of the senith ; and each succes- 
sive dav it will pass the meridian at a more 
elevated point On the last day of August, 
it will cross the meridian at twenty-three de- 
grees south of the senith. 

During this month, the comet will be visi- 
ble in the firmament, on the eastern side of 
the meridian, l>etween ten o*clock at night 
and Bve in the momine ; and will be at a 
nifficient elevation to be discovered by a good 

During the month of September, the time 
of its passing the meridian will (j^radually 
come nearer to midnight ; and it will conse- 
quently be in circumstances still more fn- 

to surround the body, ttiffi^ned by whalebone' 
ur other means, and tightened by a luce. 
It seems a remnant of the old practice of en*' 
veloping the whole frame in swaddling bands;' 
a practice which has been generally discarded 
in rearing male children, but which still fin* 
gen as a part of the attire of female children, 
in defiance of nature, reason, and experience. 
* * * Ihe disadvantages arising from iti 
use are manifold, and serious. Nature hatf 
formed the chest (in which are lodged tha 
lungs for respiration, and the heart for circu^ 
lation, two out of three of the vital functions,) 
in the shape of a truncated cone, the base of 
which is capable of being alternately widened 
and contracted during inspiration and expi- 
ration. The wonderful and perfect mecha- 
nism for carrying on respiration cannot come 
into full play, if any compression be applied 

vourable for observation. On the 1 5th of to the lower part of the chest, which is, how- 
October, it will pass through the zenith at ever, the part commonly 8electe<l — froin yield- 
midnight ; and on tlte 25th of November, it in^ most easily— to endure the hurtful res- 
will cross the meridian at noon, at a distance traint of tight-lacing. The chest nev^r being 
of forty-eight degrees suuth of the senith. — allowed to expand to thH extent which is 
It will then be in a position mure imfavour- necessary, the defect in each . respiration is '. 

able for observation. 

The comet will be at its least distance 
from the earth on the 7th of November, and 
at its least distance from the sun on the 18th 
of December. 

The appearance of this comet is that of a 
amall, round nebula, without the appendage 
of a tail. It is rather brighter towards the 
centra than at the edges ; but so faint, even 
^ when brightest, that it is discovered in the 
leavens at all times with some difficulty. It 
"produces not the slightest observable efiect 
by its attraction on any bo<ly of the sular 
system, but, on the other hand, suffers consi- 
derable iierturbations by the attraction of the 
planets on it. Ail these circumstances lead 
to the conclusion, that it is a small, light 
globe of matter, probably destitute of soli- 
dly, and in a state of vapour. 

[if the reader wishes for an entertaining 
ti^eatise on the laws which govern the trans- 
mission and reflection of light, we refer him 
to No. 6 of the Monthhf Chronicle, p. 120.] 


Thb very unnatural, ugly, and pernicious 
■ystem of tight-lacing, now^-more than ever 
— conspicuous in the forms of our young 
countrywomen, is an evil of such me^^nitude, 
ttiat it is the duty of every writer who can 
obtain the ear of the public, to represent the 

matter in all its terrors, and to use every the most frequent and fatal. Nor is the 
endeavour to abate its effects, by proving its real object ot all this painfiU and irksome 
egregious folly and fatal tendency. compression in any instance attained. The 

^ << CoBSKT, an article of dress for compres- figure of the female bust may be altered by 
•ing, under the pretext of supporting the . it, but hoi improved. Sculptors, who are the 
chest and waist, worn chiefly by females, closest observers of nature, and who transfer 
bnt also sometimes l>y effiminate individuals to their statues every beauty presented to IImI^ 
of (he other sex. It coaiistv of doth made eye, have inviviably given ample dimeosiona 

attempted to be compensate^ for by their 
greater frequency, and thus a hurried circula- ' 
tiou is produced. The heart is also hindered 
in its action, and an imt)erfectly aerated' 
blood is circulated by it, by which nutrition 
is inadequately accomplished. ♦ ♦ ♦ The 
muscles of the chest, spine, and abdomen, 
being deprived of their proper exercise, be- ' 
come attenuated and feeble, and incapable of 
giving due support, whence result distortions 
of the spine and chest, and much of that 
constipation which so frequently afflicts* 
females. The viscera of the abflomen, 
es|)ecially the liver, suffer greatly, both by 
displacement — being forced downwards, and 
by being actually indented by the edges of 
the compressed ribs. * In examining,' says 
Doctor Hodgkin, whbse connexion with 
Guy's Hospital gives him extensive oppor- 
turn lies of observation, * the bodies of Ihe , 
dead, I have frequently fouud the lower ribs 
ot females greatly compressed and deformed. 
I have repeatedly seen the liver greatly ' 
misshaiien by the unnatural pressure to 
which it had been subjected, and the dia- 
phragm or midriff very much displaced.' 
The diseases which result from this interfer- 
ence with nature, are various ; and though 
they do not all occur in every female who 
adopts this mischievous practice, yet, on 
inquiry, too many may be traced to this 
source. Of these diseases consumption is 



todw bwtr fwit of tbt A^. The 
liwvdbi*» M^ lemalty not of tiniimturtl pro^ 
MtiMt, oompreMeii her waist, the mon 
ijoet she depart from nM«inblaiioe to the~ 
statqe which enchants the world.*^ 
^ TMsjavery e«^|^t; bnt.we jfapr'fhaltt 
is not forcible enough to cure' a single case of 
<he «#ajr mania now raging like an epidemic, 
Toiing ladies think that ^ounf gentl^niirn. 
admire a wasp-like taper waist, like a leverwed . 
s^lji^rloaf ; they consequently turn a deaf 
Mr to their real admirers. Heaven help the 
taste of young gentlemen — if such there be — 
who doat upon an unyielding wooden fiurmi 
like the arm of a tree, rather than the grace* 
ftd pliancy of uncompressed nature ! 

Did any of our readers, male or female, 
young or old, ever meet with a lady who 
would confess to the obvious fact of tight- 
lacing? /Ttf never were so fortunate as to 
know so tmth-telling a feminine. *' J tight- 
•ned in I oh, no ; I assure you I am nut ; 
only try my waist-ribbon and you will be 
convinced of it V* We accordingly squeese 
our finger beneath this test, and snap goes 
the band like the brace of a drum ; yet we 
are expected to appear convinced of the 
assertion against our actual knowledge. For 
there is before us a waist formed by art| 
nature would not only scorn the monstrosity, 
hilt never was guilty of any thing so ugly. 
We have seen mammas so deceived by the 
deprecating look, the innocent manner, of 
their daughters while uttering the above 
falsehood, that we have been ashamed for 
both parties. Some young women, other- 
wise inclined to truth, will wear the band 
outside ot their dress comparatively slack in 
Older to deceive the vigilance of their friendsr 
and will triumphantly exhibit this proof of 
their truth, while thev are asseverating the 
most glaring fal9ehoo^ ; and mammas have 
remained satisfied that their daughters do 
not '* tighten in ;" while we have known 
that Me evii lies beneath the band : for let 
^e wicked stays, from the hips to the arm- 
pits be suddenly cut open, and Nature would 
assert Iter rights, folly and falsehood be ex- 
posed, and the health of the infatuated crea- 
tures might lie saved. If we could but per- 
suade our young readers of the certain misery 
they are entailing upon themselves, (if single, 
upon their friends, if married, upon their 
husbands and children,) we think we might 
effect a portion of that benefit which we 
really have at heart for ourVniable young 
countrywomen. Though an abler pen than 
our own has been called in to aid us, by 
stating generaUif the consequences of the 
evils resulting from tight-lacing, yet we are 
Hware that individualizing will always do 
more for a cause than generalising ; and in 
the same way that an account of all the 
hOQUii of a distant field of battle will less 
iSiock the listeoff, than the detai) of a pingk 

in our immediale neighbaarlMed, 
10 iritt the general truths of iXietor Hod^kinV 
ciperieDce in Qt^'a Hospital past hghtly 
over thiDse feeling^, which we hat^ tt in our 
|wwer to harrow up with f»r of seAerings 
nmiUr to thbse tbit we hate p^ksonaUy 
known to exist, in consequence, and onfy in 
eonsequenee, of tight-lacing. We wHl io* 
stance but one caHe, A young lady-^ww 
knew her Well — whiD prided herself ' upon 
possessing the smallest waist in the p(^- 

k>os town of T , marriedi with every^ 

symptom of a s^ieedy termination to her 
wedded life. ' She could 1M4 inhale a deep 
breath, her complexion had becume thick, 
sattow, and liable to cutaneous eni^piiots; 
she became more and more a nuuiyr t<» 
bilious headache; her appetite wi£i'pi«ca« 
rious and small ; indeed, the wonder uaed to 
be where, in that tiny body, space could bo 
found for food I Within a twelvemonth, this 
setf-immoUted victim to vanity and pain 
became a mother, rnpid symptoms of inflam- 
mation of the liver appuued, and in three 
days she was a corpse, her puny inluit being^ 
burie<l with her. The unnatural pressure 
she had used had. prevented that due actioo 
of the liver which is indispensable to H»% 
health and well-doing of the human frames 
This is but one out of noany instances ww 
have known. We are acquainted with sev4^ ' 
ral medical gentlemen, who have all more 
than corroborated Doctor Hodgkin's obeea- 
vations : they have assured us that the ribe 
after death have been found adhering te 
the liver. Sudden inflammations of that 
vital organ carry off numbers of our ; 
and lovely women, who, but for this i 
love of uneasy conqnession, might Uve §x 
many years in health, and e&nsepieni^ a 
blessing to their relatives ; we say conseji* 
quently, for what blessing is there in life 
com|)arable to health ? What temper is not 
injured by the loss of it ? Who can cheer 
the home of a husband and children when ' 
suffering from bile, nerves, weakness, con- 
sumption P What female can be so heartless 
as to entail distress, expense, anxiety, and 
grief, upon the inmates uf that home, which 
it ought to be the first wish of her life to 
render happy ? Few persons are aware how 
much their health is dependent on them- 
selves ; and fewer still reflect upon the hei- 
nousuess of that sin of which they are guilty,- 
when they wantonly trifle with the greatest 
blessing which Providence bestows — good 
health. — Magazine of Domestic Economjf. 

^vblU hofttibtmnM. 


Tmbsb elegantly-constructed baths are situ-v 
ate on the west side of George's Dock> 
with a handsome promenade oetwceii tito' 

tfift MIRROR. 


ii^h 'ui^td ' vji 

.1 -H'^ **<^ 

(Marine Batha, St. Oeorge*f Parade, Livetpodl.) 

baildiog and the riTer. The exterior is of 
aftonei in a chaste and plain 8tyle of architec- 
ture. It>« extent in front of the rirer, from 
4Mie extremity to the other, 839 ft. and the 
hreadth^ backwardiT, 87 ft. ; it ia one story 
in height, the waUtu msticated, and finished 
vpmmds by a cornice, sormonnted by a 
]i«r«pet. The principal entrance is from 
tke centre of tm building, on each side of 
whifih a colonnade extends M ft. to the 
north, tod <6ne of the atase extent to the 
•Diitii, of #Mteefi cohimns each, sopport- 
ing a ^toot,' therelky forming handsome 
MTvered walks of ei|^t feet in width, oma* 
■MMftal t^ the margin of the river, at the 
same time afibrding shelter from the incle* 
aienej of the weathec^ior persons waiting fbt 
passage on the river* 

The baths fot the use of the gentlemen 
aire in the rear of the north colonnade ; the 
firineipal one is constructed in a qaadran- 
Miliar Torm, of about 45 ft by 97 ft. A pro- 
l^ting roof, supported by iron columns, 
covers the landing) from ihe dressing-rooms 
tp the bath, which is entered by descending 
ateps at each eAd. There are nine smaU 
dressing-rooms, and also several larger ones, 
together with a private bath, which is en- 
tered from one of the rooms. A saloon, 
lighted by a skylight, leads to four private 
warm baths, a tepid, vapour, and shower 
baths, which are admiroUy constructed 
with reference to the comfort and conve- 
nience of those who may be disposed to 
partake of them, either in the way of luxury 
or for the purposes of health. The ladies' 
baths are in the south wing ; the principal 
one is somewhat smaller than that of the 
gentlemen's, being about 39 ft by 27 ft, 
and is of the same quadrangular form, with 
a covered gallery, and dressing^ooms ad- 
joining. Tuito private cold bathn and hnt 

warm baths are connected with this depart- 
ment of the establishment. 

The whole of the water is conveyed froiii 
the river, into«Teservoir Under the bnitding, 
capable of holding 100 ' tuns. A steam- 
engine iK employed to Aump the water intd 
pans, whereit^siieated, and passed forwafd 
to supply the warm baths. The cold watei^ 
as wfeU as the warm, is forced throiigh ii 
filtering appiaratos, planned bv Mr. Syhres^ 
ter, consisting of sand, charcoal. Ac, where 
it undergoes a process which renders it as 
transparent as crystid. The cold baths nri 
constantly receiring a fresh supply of water',' 
whilst the overflows are carrying off an 
equal quantity from the surface, thus pre« 
serving ihe water constantly pure. Th6 
appearance of the large baths in warm 
weather is extremely agreeable an<} inidtin^^ 
whilst the overflow of the limpid smplus is 
rippling into the marble basins, giring thci 
impression of a delightful and refreshing 
coolness, at once in character with a jmUfO^ 
establishment of this nature. The whole if' 
from the design of John Foster, Esq., Iij 
whom this elegant establishment has been 
constructed, at a cost of jf30,736. — Kaye*t 
Simnger in Liverpool, 

Spebchbs op Lord Brougham, h^fattt 

volumes, Edinburgh, Adam and Blacks 
No work of late years has excited such 
lively interest among men of letters, journa- 
lists, lawyers, and, above all, politicians, as 
the collected speeches of that eminent ora- 
tor and statesman, Lord Brougham. As 
our readers are doubtless anxious to hear 
what his lordship has to say of many of the^ 
eminent persons with whom he^aiso^ted> 
we commence' with the character of 



Jeremy Bentham, 

<' The age of Law Reform and the age 
of Jeremy Bentham are one and the same. 
He 18 the father of the most important of 
all the branches of Reform — (he leading 
and ruling department of human improve- 
ment. • * * • He it was who fir^tt made 
tiie mighty step of trying the whole provi- 
sions of our jurtsprndence by the test of 
ekpediency> fearlestsly examining how far 
eaeh part was connected with the rest; 
and, with a yet more undaunted courage, 
ii^airing how far even its most consistent 
and symmetrical arrangements were framed 
according to the . principle which should 
pervade a Code of Laws — their adaptation 
to the circumstances of society, to the wants 
of men, and to the promotion of human 

'* Not only was he thus eminently origi- 
nal among the lawyers and the legnl phito- 
lophers of his own couhtry : he might be 
aaid to be the first legal philo^pher that 
)iad appeared in the world. ♦ ♦ ♦ * 

'' xo the performance of the magnificent 
task which he had set before him, this great 
man brought a capacity, of which it is say. 
ing everything to affirm, that it was not in- 
ftdequate to so mighty a labour. Acute, 
sagacious, reflecting, suspicious to a fault 
oJT all outward appearances, nor ever to be 
satisfied without the most close, sifting, un- 
•pairing scrutiny, he hnd an industry which 
DO excess of toil co^ild weary, and applied 
himself with as unremitting perseverance to 
master every minute portion of each sub- 
ject, as if he had not possessed a quickness 
of apprehension, which could at a glance 
become acquainted with all its general fea- 
tures. In him were blended, to a degree 
perhaps unequalled in any other philoso- 
pher, the love and appreciation of general 
principles^ with the avidity for minute de- 
tails ; the power of embracing and following 
out general views, with the capacity for 
pursuing each one of numberless particular 
facts. His learning was various, extensive, 
a||d accurate. Histor}', and of all nations 
and all ages, was familiar to him, generally 
in the languages in which it was recorded. 
With the poets and the orators of all times 
he was equally well acquainted, though he 
undervalued the productions of both. The 
writings of the philosophers of every coun« 
try, and of every age, were thoroughly 
known to him, and had deeply occupied his 
attention. ^ It was only the walks of the 
exacter sciences that he had not frequented ; 
and he regarded them, very erroneously, as 
unworthy of being explored, or valued them 
only for the inventions useful to common 
life which flowed from them; altogether 
neglecting the pleasures of scientific con- 
templation which form their main obiect 
and chief attradtioh. Td fhe lavni of hia( 

own country he was perfectly well versed, 
having been educited as a lawyer, and 
called to the English bar; at which his 
success would have been certain, had he 
not preferred the life of a sage. Nor did he 
rest satisfied with the original foundations 
of legal knowledge which he had laid while 
studying the system: he continually read 
whatever appeared on the subject, whether 
the decisions of our courts, or the specula- 
tions of juridical writers ; so as to continue 
conversant with the latest state of the law 
in its actual and practical administration. — 
Though living retired from societyi he was 
a watdhful and accurate observer of every 
occurrence, whether political, or forensic, 
or social, of the day ; and no man who lived 
so much to himself, and devoted so large a 
portion of his time to solitary study^ couM 
nave been supposed to know so perfectly, 
even in its more minute details, the state of 
\h» world around him, in which he hardly 
seemed to live, and did not at all move. 

<< But, of all his qualities, the one that 
chiefly distinguished Mr. Bentham, and 
was the most fruitful in its results, was the 
boldness wiih which he pursued his inqui- 
ries. Whatever obstacle opposed his course^, 
be it little or be it mighty — from what quar- 
ter soever the resistance proceeded — with 
what feelings soever it was allied> be Ihey. 
of a kind that leave men's jud|p(nent palm 
and undisturbed, or of a nature to suspead; 
the reasoning faculty altogether, and oyer-, 
whelm opposition with a storm of unthink- 
ing passion, — all sij^nified nothing to one 
who, weighing principles and arguments in 
golden scales, held the utmost weight of 
prejudice — the whole influence of a host of 

Eopular feelings, as mere dust in the ba- 
ince, when any the least reason loaded the 
other end of the beam. And if this was at 
once the distinguishing quality of his mind,' 
and the great cause of his success, so was 
it also the source of nearly all his errors, 
and the principal obstacle to the progress 
of his philosophy. For it often, especially 
in the latter part of his life, prevented him 
from seeing real diflicuUies and solid objec- 
tions to his proposals ; it made him too re- 
gardless of the quarter from which opposi- 
tion might proceed ; it gave an appearance 
of impracticability to many of his plans ; 
and, what was far more fatal, it rendered 
many of his theories wholly inapplicable to 
any existing, and almost to any possible 
state of human affairs, by making him too 
generally forget that all laws must both be 
executed by, and operate upon, men— men 
wliose passions and feelings are made (o^ 
the lawgiver's bund, and cannot all at ond6 . 
be moulded to his will. The same tih-'^ 
daunted boldness of specniationled to *nd-* 
ther and a kindred error. JHfe F^"^*^ 
evci-y argu&eni to the uttermostjie sfiraiflflW ^ 



ejich principle till it cracked ; he loaded all 
the fotiodations on which his system was 
boiU, as ify like arches, they were strength- 
ened by thtf pressure, ualil he made them 
bend and give way beneath the superincum- 
bent weighu A provision, whether of po- 
litical or of ordinary Uw, had no merit io 
bis eyes, if H admitted of any exception, or 
betokened eny bending of principles to 
practical facilities. He seemed oftentimes 
to resemble the mechanician, who should 
ibrm bis calcalations and fashion bis ma- 
Ainery upon theubstract consideration (»f 
tbe mechanical powers, and make no al- 
lowance for friction, or the re<#istance of the 
air, or tbe strength of ibe materials. 

" The greater qualities of Mr. Bentham*s 
nnderstanding have been described ; but be 
also excelled in the light works of fancy. — 
An habitual despii<er of eloquence, he was 
one of the most eloquent ol men when it 

S leased him to write naturally, and before 
e had adopted that harsh style, full of in- 
volved periods and new-made word^, which, 
how accurately sOAver it conveyed his ideas, 
was almost as bard to learn as a foreign 
langruage. Thus, hi^ earlier writings are 
models of force as well as of precision ; but 
some of them are also highly rhetorical ; 
nor are the jn^tly-celebrated * Defence of 
JJtutyt and * Protest against Law Tuxes,' 
more finished models ol modern demonstra* 
tion, than the Address to the French Na- 
tional Assembly on Colonial fimtincipation, 
is of an eloquence at once declamatory and 

^Tbe moral character of this eminent 
person was, in the most important uarticu- 
lars, perfect and unblemished. His honesty 
was unimpeachable, and his word might, 
upon any subject, be taken as absolutely 
conclusive, whatever motives he might have 
for distorting or exiiggerating the truth. — 
Bat he was, especially of late years, of a 
somewhat jealous disposition — betrayed im- 
patience if to another was ascribed an^ part . 
whatever of the improvements in jurit»pru- 
deoce, which all originated in his own la- 
bours, but to effect which, different kinds . 
of men were required — and even showed 
some disinclination to see any one interfere, 
although as a coadjutor, and for the further- 
ance of his own designs. It is said that he 
suffered a severe mortification in not being 
brought early in life into Parliament ; 
although he must have felt, that a worse 
service never could have been rendered to 
the cause be had most at heart, than to re- 
move him from his own peculiar sphere to 
one in which, even if he had excelled, he 
yet never could have been nearly so useful 
to mankind * * * Into all these unamiable 
fa^tuxes of his character, every furrow of 
wbioh was deepened, and eveiy shade dark* 
ened) by . inoMuisipg jrears, there entereii.^ 

nothing base or by]^ritical. If he feit 
little for a friend, he pretended to no more 
than be felt. If bis sentiments wsere; tinged 
with tttperity and edged with spRe, he wa* 
the first hiesself to declare it ; and no ona 
formed a less favourable or a more just 
judgment of bis weaknesses than he hintsetf 
did ; nor did any one pronounce such' judg- 
ments with a severity that exceeded the 
conlessions of bis own candour. Upon tha 
whole then, while, in his pnUie capacity, ha 
presented an ofcject of admiration and of 
gratatade, ia his private character be was 
ioraied rather to be respected and stodiedy 
than beloved." 

George the Third, 
** Of a narrow understanding, which no 
culture had enlarged ; of an obstinate dis- 
position, which noedueatiou, perhaps, could 
have humanized ; of strong feelings in or- 
dinary things, tuid a resolute attachment to 
all his own opinions and predilections, 
George III. possessed much ol the firmness 
of purpoj»e which, being exhibivd by men 
of contracted mind without any discrimina- 
tion, and as pertinaciously when they are in 
the wrong as when they are in the right, 
lends to their characters an appearance of 
inflexible consistency, which is pften mis* 
taken for greatness of mind, and not seldom 
received as a substitute for honesty. In all 
that related to his kingly office, he was the 
slave of as deep-rooted a selfishness as his 
son ; and no feeling of a kindly nature ever 
was suffered to cross his mind, whenever 
his power was concerned, either in its main- 
tenance, or in the manner of exercising it. 
In other respects, he was a man of amiable 
dispoiiition, and few princes have been more 
exemplary in their domestic habits, or in 
the offices of private friendship. But the 
instant that his prerogative was concerned, 
or his bigotry interfered with, or his wi|i 
thwarted, the must unbending pride, the 
most bitter animosity, the most calculating , 
coldness of heart, the most unlor^iving re- 
sentment, took possession of his whole 
breast, and swayed it by turns. The habits 
of friendship, the ties of blood, the dictates 
of conscience, the rules of honesty, were ] 
alike forgotten ; and the fury of the tyrant, 
wiih the resources of a cunning which men- 
tal alienation is supposed to whet, were 
ready to circumvent or to de^^troy all who 
interposed an obstacle to the fierceness of 
unbridled desire." 

C|)e public SoumaU. 


(^Prom The QentlemoM't Magaxine.') 
Tm% only complaint Coleridge made of hiit 
embarcasmtniia the Ligh(-(bor4f > wm t))«^ 




itiAcuHy lie found in PuQiiig the Mrt out 
of his hone*« heelf . That he. never eoatd 
jtpcompUih ; and some of , hit fel1owBo)« 
lftk»riy whoM ki«idne8» to him he spoke of 
wAi mach feeing, did it for him. A small 
Creek hook he was reading was disoovered 
in the holsters of his saddle* and that led to 
fli disclosure of who he was. Steps were 
then taken for his discharge ; — and now he 
did no duty ; but the men seemed pleased> 
lind treated him with great respect ; till the 
/lune of his situation spreadingi and he was 
noticed by persons in the neighbourhood, 
particularly ny Mr. Clagget» whose daugh- 
ter, a handsome girl, walked about arm-iii- 
urm with him ; when he thought the sol- 
diers eyed him with some degree of envy. 

He was frequently reading theological 
works and German metaphysics, and was 
often lost in abstract reasoning about reli- 
gion. He perused such books in all lan- 
guages, and possessed a prodigious power 
of reading rapidly, and becoming perma- 
nently master of what he read. Such things 
as the Morning Post and money never set- 
tled upon his mind. 

Mr. Gillman, in his book, has descril)ed 
the circumstances attending Coleridge's en- 
listing into the Light-horse. At that time 
in London, alone, pennyless, he sent a poem 
of a few lines to Mr. Perry, of the Morning 
Chronide, soliciting the loan of a guinea 
for a distressed author. Perry, who was 
generous with his money, sent it ; and Cole- 
ndge often mentioned this, when the Morn- 
ing Chronicle was alluded to, with expres- 
sions of a deep gratitude proportioned tu 
the severe distress which that small sum at 
the moment relieved. 

I have no doubt Coleridge thought his 
writings had been a leading cause of the 
prosperi^ of the Morning Post, notwith- 
itonding his denial of this in his letters to 
rae previously to the Literary Biography. 
It is sometimes difScult to say what it is 
that occasions the success of particular en- 
terprises ; and it is common for every one 
who has assisted to claim pre-eminent me- 
rit. I could mention several others who 
pttt forth such claims. Sir James Mackin- 
tosh never did ; but my own brother Peter, 
and others, did for him, though with less 
reason even than for Coleridge. Some day 
I may make a statement on that point ; 
which, if I do, it will be curious, interest- 
ing, and honourable to Sir James. Cole- 
ridge had a defective memory from want of 
interest in common things, as his letter 
about Wordsworth and the 80/. shows. At 
the distance of twelve or fourteen years, he 
might think he had made the fortune of the 
Morning Post. Such an assertion was an 
answer to those who accused him of having 
wasted his time ; and it laid a foundation 
for a claim on Ministers for an appoint- 
nettt,- Which he afterwards solicited. 

Coleridge was easily moved to resist op- 
pression, ft was he who brought the affiur 
of the Beauty of Bottermere into notice; 
He sent to me a long account of it, on 
which, it being rather a private domestic 
story, I placed no value. It filled upwards 
of three columns in black letter, (that iiti, 
technically, not leaded,) and, on a hungry 
day, 1 placed it in the back page, as mer^ 
stuffing. It produced no effect on the pa- 
per ; but the story worked its way through 
society, it was so romantic and interesting. 
Many old bachelors were deeply in love with 
the unfortunate gfirl, from Coleridge's deii- 
eription of her; and some bea%UB passes^ 
whom 1 could name — men of eminence and 
fortune, posted to the Lakes to become her 
champions. Coleridge took a deep and an, 
active interest in the affair : he read all the 
letters and papers of Hatfield, by which it 
appeared a greater villain never existed. — ', 
In the south of England he had travelled 
about, under false names, (assuming those 
of noblemen,) in a handsome chariot, with a 
servant in splendid livery; and had insi- 
nuated himself into the confidence of several 
respectable families, where, by religiousi 
musings, by praying and canting, he had 
won the confidence, the love of the females, 
mothers and daughters— mothers beyond 
the heydey of youth — and had seduced, 
them. Such a ruffian was worse than Thur- 
tell or Fauntleroy. Had the Beauty been^ 
a kinswoman of Colt^ridge's, he coiUd not 
have taken a more intense interest in her . 
fate than he did ; and, but for the exposure 
of private families, he wonld have given im 
account of Hatfield's baseness, which would 
have shocked and astonished the world. . 

About twenty or thirty years ago, Cole- 
ridge came to me, agfitated, to complain of 
the cruel treatment of Gale Jones. Jones ' 
had been bred to the medical profession: ' 
he was a man of -education, an elegant wri- 
ter, and an eloquent speaker ; a leader of 
the lower class of pohticians, then called ' 
Jacobins, now called Liberals. Jones had 
got into a scrape, and was imprisoned in 
the Coldbath-fields prison for a libel. Some * 
of the weekly papers teemed with the most ' 
horrible accounts of his treatment. Dun- 
geons, chains, torture, flogging, lashing, ' 
slashing, starving: there was nothing the 
mind could invent of cruelty that was not ' 
practised on poor Gale Jones. Coleridge 
came to me, and said this was most atro- 
cious. If the accounts were true, the go- ' 
vernment should be informed and attacked ; 
if false, the falsehood should be exposed 
and condemned.. " What's to be done ? — ' 
Some one should go and investigate.'' — 
'* Well, I will go, if you will go witli me," 
He agreed. Off we set for the Coldbath- 
fields prison ; told Adkins, the gaoler, who 
w^ were, th«t wo Mrlo^od 4o see the prison, ' 
but said nothing of Gale Jones. Adkins 



rendily complied Mrith oar reqaesti mid ap- 
pointed a man to g^D round with lu. W^ 
were well sati^ified with what we saw. Last 
of all, we inquired if there was not a person 
called Gale Jones in custody; ? '* Oh, ves i" 
** We wish to see him-*' - WV were ushered 
tip into the room where, he was sitting, the 
best room the governor had— as^ good a 
room as the drawing-room of any shop* 
keeper's house ; well furnished^ carpeted ; 
flowers in the windows — the sun shining in 
— no appearance of bars, or a prison. I 
make no doubt Gale Jones had no si^ch 
handsome, well-furnished, cheerful, com- 
fortable room out of prison. But let nie 
take care. Complaint had been made, 
apme years before, of the ill-treatment of 
Mary Rich^ a little unfortunate girl in this 
prison ; and, in reply, Mr. Mainwaring, 
M. P. for Middle^iex, said she was better 
off there than at home. Upon this sprang 
up all the seditious uproar of the Middlesex 
elections, which for several years inflamed 
the metropolis, and terrified the kingdom. 
But Gale Jones was certainly better lodged 
than ever he had been at home. We took 
seats, told him who we were, and the ob- 
ject of our visit. We put questions to him : 
he said he was as well treated as any man 
could be — ^that he had nothing to complain 
of, and that the accounts in the newspapers 
were falsehoods. We returned to. the Cou- 
rier ofiice, and I wrote a long . account — 
three columns— of this investigation, which, 
was published in the Courier. The day af. 
ter, came the Rev. Mr. Thirlwall, of Mile 
End, one of the visiting justices of the pri- 
son, in extasies of delight. I thought he 
would h^ve kissed us all, so charmed was 
he that the justices who had charge of the 
prison, were thus rescued from the calum- - 
nies long heaped upon them. He re-pub«; - 
lished in a pamphlet, with some additions> 
the account in tne Courier. I searched to/ 
And a eopy of this pamphlet, to send it to 
Hr. Gillman, but without success. 


[Tbk fifth number of th6 above popular 
work opens with the cause of the interrup- 
tion of the party at Kenwigs's, by Newman 
Nogga being caHed away to wait on two 
persons, who were then in his room: 
Nogg^s instantly repaired thither, and to his 
astonishment found Nicholas and Smike, 
who, on their arrival in London, waited on 
the kind, good-hearted, Newman Noggs, 
for a night's shelter. The meeting is, of 
coarse, well told ; and Nicholas, the next 
day, takes another lodging, and seeks em- 
ployment, first as a secretary to a member 
of parliament, and being unsuccessful, ac- 
cepts aki engagement as a tutor in the family 
of Mrs. Ken wigs, to teach the four Miss 
Kenwig^es in the French language, for fi\6 

stiUUngs per week. The seventeenth ehap> 
ter details the engagement -of Misa Nieklefy 
with Madame Mantalifii,a fashionable milli- 
ner and dness* maker, who lotrodace^ her 
to a A^ss Knmg§ in her worfe>room, ttf^irhioh 
Were several young women ; when] 

After a short silence, during which mMt ' 
of the yontig people made a closer inspee- 
tion of Katels a|ppearanee, and compared- 

not find black very uncomfortable wear. 

" I do, indeed," replied Kate, with a 
bitter sigh. 

« So dusty and hot," observed the saMb 
speaker, adjusting her dress for her. 

> Kate might have said, that mourning was 
the coldest wear which mortals can assume ; 
that it not only chills the breasts of those it 
clothes, but, extending its influence to sum*- 
mer friends, freezes up their sources of 
good- will and kindness, and withering aH 
the buds of promise they once so liberally 
put forth, leaves nothing but bared and 
rotten hearts exposed. There are few who 
have lost a friend or relative constituting ia 
life their sole dependance, who have not 
keenly felt this chilling influence of their sable 
garb. She had felt it acutely, and feeling it 
at the moment, could not restrain her tears, 

** I am very sorry to have wounded yott 
b^ my thoughtless speech," said her compa- 
nion. *' 1 did not think of it. You are in 
mourning for some near relation." 

*• For my fieLther," answered Kate, weeping; 

<^ Fur what relation, Miss Simmondt r* 
asked Miss Km^, in an audible voice. 

" Her father,'' replied the oth^r, softly. 

" Her father, eh T' said Miss luiag, 
without the slightest depression of her voice. 
'< Ah 1 a long illness* Miss Simmonds ?" 

.** Hush — pray,'* replied the girl; '* 1 don't 

. "Our misfortune wits very sudden,** said^ 
Kate, turning away, ** or I might, perhaps, 
at a time hke this, be enabled to support it 

There had existed not a little desire in the 
room, according to invariable custom when' 
any new ** young person " came, to know 
who Kate was, and what she was, and all 
about her; but although it might have been 
very naturally increased by her appearance 
and emotion, the knowledge that it pained 
her to be questioned, was sufficient to repress 
even this curiosity ; and Miss Knag, fielding 
it hopeless to attempt extracting any further 
particulars just then, reluctantly commanded 
silence, and bade the work proceed. 

In silence, then, the tasks were plied until - 
half-past one, when a baked leg of mutton, 
with potatoes to correspond, were served in. 
the kitchen. The meal over, and the youngs, 
ladies having enjoyed ttie , ad^litic^ fvhapr*. 



tion of witthiiig their kandt, the work began 
AKain^and wat again performed in lilenee, 
until the noise of carriages rattling through 
the streets, and of luud double-knocks at 
doors, gave token that the day's work of the 
more fortunate membera of society was pro- 
ceeding in its ttim. 

One of these double^noeks at Madama 
Mantalini's door announced the equipage of 
some great lady, or rather rich one— for there 
is oeeaeienally a wide distinction between 
riehes and greatness— who had come with 
her daughter to approve of some court- diesset 
which had been a long time preparing, and 
upon whom Kate wad deputed to wait,accom- 
Piftied by Mimii Knag, and offioered,of course, 
by Madame Mantalini. 

Kate's \vui in the pageant was humUe 
enough, her duties being limited to holding 
articles of ciKtume until Miss Knag was 
ready to try them on, and now and then 
tying a string, or fastening a hook-and-eye. 
She might, not unreasonably, have suppo^ 
hetMf beneath the reach of any arrogance, 
or bad humour; but it happened that the 
rich lady and the rich daughter were both 
out of temper that day, and the poor girl 
came in for her share of their revilingx. She 
was awkward — her hands were cold — dirty 
— «oar>* — she could do nothing right ; they 
wondered how Mndante Mantalini could 
have such people about her ; requested they 
might see some other young Woman the next 
time they came, and so forth. 

So common an occurrence would be hardly 
deserving of mention, but for its efit:ct. 
Kate shed many bitter tears when these 
people were gone, and felt, for the first time, 
humbled by her occupation. She had, it is 
trtle, quailied at the prospect of drudgeiy and 
haiY) service ; but she had felt no de^^radation 
in working for her bread, until she found 
h^Melf exposed to insolence and the coarsest 
pride. Philosophy would have taught her 
tKat the degradation was on the side of those. 
wh^ hirf sunk so low as to display such 
pftfcsiotts h^liitually, and withont cause ; but 
she was too young for such consolation, and 
her honest reeling was hurt May not the 
cotnplaint, that common people are above 
their station, often take its rise in the fiiet of 
tmcommon people beings below theirs f 

In such scenes and occupations the thne 
wore on until nine o'chick, when Kate, jaded 
aad dispbited with the occurrences of the- 
day* hastened from the confinement of the ' 
work-room, to Join her mother at the street 
corner, and walk home:— the more sadly, 
fmm . having to disguise her sea) feelings, 
and feign to participate in all 'the sanguine 
visions of her companion. 

[We^rnk it impossible our talented anihor 
could have placed MissNickleby in a situation 
mors favourable for a powerful tlisplay of bilT 
■ - >««iiiui;] - 

Tbm history of Rome will remain, to the' 
latest age of the world, the most attractive, 
the most useful, and the most elevating sub- 
ject of human coatemplation. It must ever 
form the basis of a liberal and enlightened 
education; it most ever present the most 
important object to the contemplation of the 
statesman; it must ever exhiW the most 
heart-stirring record to the heart of ihm 
soldier. Modem civilisation, the arts and 
the arms, the freedom and the institutions 
of Europe around u^, are the bequest of the 
Roman legions. The roads which we travd 
are, in many places, those which these indo- 
mitable pioneers of civilisation first cleared 
through the wilderness of nature; the lan- 
guage which we speak is more than half 
derive from Roman words ; the laws by - 
which we are protected have found their 
purest fountains in tlie treasures of Roman 
jurisprudence ; the ideas in which we glory 
are to be found traced out in the fire of' 
young conception in the Roman writers. In 
vain does the superficial acquirement, or 
shallow variety, of modern liberalism seek 
to throw off the weight of obligation to the 
grandeur or virtue of antiquity ; In vain are 
we told that useful knowledge is alone wor- 
thy of cultivation, that ancient fables have 
gone pa^t, and that the study of physical 
science should supersede that of the Greek 
or Roman authors. Experience, the great 
detector of error, is perpetually recalling to 
our minds the inestimable importance of 
Roman history. The more that our institu- 
tions become liberalised, the more rapid the 
strides which democracy makea amongst us, 
the more closely do we cling to the annals of 
a state which underwent exactly the same 
changes, and suffered the consequences of 
the same convulsions ; atui the more that we 
experience the insecurity, the selfishness, 
and the rapacity of democratic ambitioiiy. 
the more highly do we come to appreciate 
the condensed wisdom with which the great 
historians of antiquity, by a ward or an 
epithet, stamped its character, or revealed itt^ 
tendency. — Blackwood' m Magazine. 


Notwithstanding the numerous state- 
ments so often advanced, by various authors 
aiid travellers, as to the real exbtence of the 
Mermaid, we have as yet had no anthentio 
proof— that is, no specimen, either living 
or dead, having as yet been publicly exhi- 
bited in England. Doubtless, this creature 
of the poet's brain owes its origin to the 
following quotation from Scripture; but. 
with this addition, that the poets ai^ he* 
raid-painters added the comb and lo^i] 
glass, ^thout giving th6 world the least 




ibrmatioQ. where these eespinftidii could pos- 
silily, in the deep, procure such essentitil 
requisites to a Indy'd toilette. 

In the third and fourth verses of the fifth 
chapter of Samuel 1., it says, — 
^ /* And when they of A!«hdod arose early 
in the morning, behold, Dagon was fallen 
upon his face to the earth before the ark of 
the Lord. And they took Dagon, and net 
lum in his pluce ngain. 

^ And when they arose early on the mor- 
row morning, behold, Dagon wan fallen upon 
his face to the ground before the ark of the 
Lord ; and the head of Dagon, and both 
the palms of hix hand.x, were cut o£r upon 
the threshold; only the stump (or ^shy 
part) was left to him." 

liie essential nart of the word Dagon, , 
CDng,) means a fish, in Hebrew. It was a 
tutelary deity of the Philistines ; and, not- 
withstanding the numerous discussions about 
the form, sex, and identity of thin idol, it is 
the general opinion it was represented half*' 
human and hnlf^fli^h ; that is, with a hUrrtan 
buAt, and a fish-like termination. Thii 
Dagon of the Sbriptureii seems* to haVe been 
represented of the male sex; whereaathe 
ancii*nt writers, ak' well as on the medais of 
the Philistine towns, represent the idol wor- 
shipped by the Philistines as a female of 
the human part. Diodorus relates, that 
near the city of Aj«kelon,in Syria, there was 
a deep lidce,. - abounding with fish, near 
which -stood a temple dedicated to a fhmous 
goddess, caUed by the Syrians, Deoerto, 
(the Sytiac name for this fish>idc4.) She. 
hatl the head imd face of a woman, but the' 
rest^f the body wa» that of a fish. Lucfan ' 
ali^ states, that he had seen this idol repre- 
sented in PheBnieia,'(PhUistia,) as awonurii, 
with the lower part half-fi^ In Sir WIU 
Uam IHiseley's MisceUaoieous Plates (xxi.) 
titesre-is, as copied from a Babyionian cy- 
lffider,;a representation of a bearded person 
nitge, fish frnm the waist downward. The 
reader will find further remarks on this Da- 
gtm aniong the erudite notes in the Picto- 
rM Bible, No. 34. ' • 3 


Ta- whatever department of mechanical sci- 
ence 'We direct our attention, one uniform 
inoipre^sron is conifeyef1i.^we become conti- 
iiiiuiy 8ar|irl.^d by a mass of modertt con- 
trivttneefl which, through the ingenuity and 
tadeoT'Of ttdi* countiymen, (especially,) are in 
ooufMr of Increasing improvement. 
.^'Fhe Mbj0ct reCu«B to m more forcibly 
from an opportunity, we have lately had of 
examining a new and extensive series of 
des^ns ibr\ constructing, in our modern thea- 
i)M,' aa entire system of machinery, l^ which 
tiMf^ oiMHMScRUi are rendered less complex, 
lAffW^kiiftitiftaiieoiii e£fecto produoed ara 

unlike any thing which has heretofore ip* 
peared upon the itagt.of aojr tlieatre. 

There is, in this arrangement, one dis* 
tinctive characteristic, which it rarelv at- 
tendant upon an extended scheme of im* 
provement — namely, it appears to have pro- 
vided for every contingent^, and to embrace 
every circumstance which can be anticipated 
as in any way controlled by or aflbcting ita 

In lieu of having the stage, at at pretent^ 
inconveniently crowded with scene-shiflera 
and others, to the manifest inconvenience of 
the performers, they are scarcely upon the 
stage beyond half an hour during the even- 
ing's performance. 

The machinery is constructing upon cast- 
iron columns, in preference to the usual 
practice of suspending every thing frocn the 
roof, and the entire construction heing of 
metal, is beyond the reach or apprehension 
of accident by fire. 

All machinery which, like the present, is. 
intended to perform a diversity of duties of, 
considerable extent, must be, to a c<»rtain 
degree complicated ; it is, however, to greatly 
simplified, that its management only requirea 
common care and attention on the parts of 
those who have charge of it. 

The blunders to which the present me-, 
thods of scene-shifting are constantly exposed 
have long called for revision ; but the sub- 
ject presented so many difficulties, so many 
conflicting interests, and so much to discou-. 
rage any ordinary person, who might be 
qualified, from undertaking such a task, 
that we are not surprised it has so long 
remained unimproved. The task is one 
requiring much cure, labour, and discrimi-t 
nation, to disentangle the collected heaps of 
useful from the superfluous materials ; tha. 
result is, however, a saving of seventy per. 
cent, in the expense of working the theatre. 

Great credit is due to the contriver, Mr, 
Macdonald Stevenson, for his undertaking^ 
and for the ability with which he hat been 
eoabled to overcome obstacles of no ordinary 
description, upon which, we believe, he haa 
been upwards of two years engaged. 

Mr. Stephenson, we understand, hat re- 
ceived the encouragement he deserves from 
the authorities of Paris, where the circum- 
stance of the machinery being firerproof hat 
been considered almost as imoortant as the 
other advantage>r which attach to its appli- 

We do not feel ourselves at liberty to' 
explain more minutely the conttruction, 
which would indeed be difficult without 
reference to the drawings and models ; but 
we shall enter more fully on the subyect 
when the machinery now conttrualing by 
Mr. Stephenson for Miss Kelly's theatre ia^ 
completed, and htSoA the pubUc^^KbrntA^ 


Ttft MIRRCm. 

Yl^9 CPW^irer. u w«ll,>» gayt he, '' wIk» u thai Ae ode drif 

tlieleft?** '< I didn't intend them kaer^ 
H and E— to indicate he at all,'* said U 
** though I tee now thev do. I guem J 
nratt alter that. That taU, {jpracefal figor'* 
{»t^9 I,) with win^s, earryii? a long BowlS 
khne in his right hand, and them sm^ 
longed figures in the rear, with little nfiei, 
are angles emigratin* from heaven to thW 
country. H and E means Heavenljr Emi- 
grants : it's alle-^o-ry.'' << And a htaatifal 
alle-^o-ry it is f' said he, <' and w^ caku* 
lated to give foreigners a correct notion of 
our young, growin*, and great repoUic !»*— 
It is a fine bonceptioQ, that X^^Sam SUek. 

Yertue, in one of his MS6., si^s, that 
Hiomas Hinde, in 1537, was tiie fiijt priat* 
seller in London. 

Notwithstanding the generaHy -received 
notion, that ladies' dresses never were io 
various or so costly as in the present day, it 
is stated in a mannscript deposited in the 
British Museum, hy Dr. Bir<^, that tfan 
wardrobe bf- Queen Elixabetlf, at the time 
of her demise, : contained more than Irtfo- 
tktmsand gounSf with all things answerable. 

Men are bom with hoo eyes, but with ofi# 
tongue, iq order that they^HouldVee tiHce 
as much as they Miy,-^Coif9tU * 

SAawer of Frogs. -^K coirespondent of the 
Stmj who dates from 7, SackvHle-stieet, staiei, 
that as he was walking up ToweMtitet on 
Monday afternoon, Ju^ 30, 1838, he saw 
some dozens of young "fiogs hopping on the 
foot and carnage paveinents ; which he coii« 
jeetures liad been precipitated to the eatth ia 
a heavy shower thai had ffdlen about an hdtt 
before, as they were scattered to a coosidef*.- 
ble distance. He desoribei the lavgeit o#^ 
fro^ as not exoeeding half an inch in lengtii, 
while some weire* extremely minute^ but all 
exceedingly livelyJ* 

A youth, who, >iid been dumb firom hi* 
in&ncy, was unfortunately drowned atLaaBey, 
whilst bathing ; and, most singular to say» 
when he was qn the iKaut of sinking, he 

....^ .„.« .^^.^.^ ,uc x».u-. "P**^ ^9' ♦!»« fi"t time m his life, by callings 

miralty Board the model of a ship, worked "P^'* his bruther to. save, him, who was a 
by steam, which is so constructed, as to sail nraurnful spectator ,of Ihe heart- rse^ii^* 
— »:— * _:-j ^_j ^.-j. f.11.- . scene. — Jale of Man AdveriUer, Tbewritat* 

of thii article has a son, who never spokaun*: 
til he was upwards of six yran old, when hoi 
happened to fall ipto a nond in the gaitden.r 
On bis being rescued by his bmter, the i^^ 
stant he recovered himself, he told his mn-^ 
ther he would never go near tiie pond aga&|. 

Trafalgmr i^i^tiars.— ^By a Corretpondeni 
of the Architectural Magazine, )^^Gretit\y 
is it to be hoped, that, whatever may be 
erected in the centre of Trafalgar Square, 
it will not be another huge column. There 
IS already one thing too many of the kind 
in the metropoUs; a single specimen of 
Irhat excludes all variety or design, being 
quite sufficient to satisfy the most voracious 
curiosity. What reason can be argued in 
favour of having a column on that site 1 
know not : certainly, there are several rea- 
sons against it, iifdependently ol the one in- 
cluded in the above remark. In the first 
phice, there is the York Column just by ; 
in the second, a lofty column would hardly 
serve as a foil either to the National Gal- 
lery* or any of the other buildings ; in the 
third, it would itself suffer by com|)arison 
with the steeple of St. Martin's Church, 
which is nearly two hundred feet High. Let 
it be the proposed monument to Nelson, or ' 
any thing else, which is to embellish that 
site, 1 should say it ought to be designed' 
with reference to the existing buildings, so 
as to set them off to as much advantage as 
possible, instead of in any degree over- 
powering them, If it must, at all events, 
be a column, at least let it not be sud^ a 
one as bek>ngs to an entablature, but some- 
uiing of a rostral pillar ; a professedly or- 
namental, and certainly most picturesque, 
object. Then, if a statue of Nel^n is to be 
placed on the ^Viinmit, those of other naval 
commanders might very suitably be put on 
the prows mtting Out flrom the shaft, so as 
to be attached to the shaft itself. In addi- 
tion to these, there might be zones of bas- 
relief cincturing the shaft at intervals, while 
other sculpture might be introduced in the 
lower part >f ;^he design ; namely, that 
which would constitute the base, or fiat- 
form, supporting the pillar itself. 

Model of the first English Steam- FesseL 
— ^The following notice appeared in the Ora" 
cle daily newspaper, December, 1789: — 
" There has been lately laid before the Ad 

m,j Di«,aui, wusvti IO B\f vuuB«ruui,cu, vas lo Bail 

against wind and tide. This ingenuity ia 
to be rewarded by a patent." 

A National Painting — ^" That's a most 
beautiful thing," said the governor, *' yon 
are a doin* of: may 1 presume tadiatichise 
what it is ?" " Why," said I, " governor, 
that landscape on the right, with the great 
white, two-story house in it, havin' a wash- 
in'-tub of apole-safoe on one side, and a 
cart chock-full of ponkin-pies on t'other, 
with the gold letters A. P. over it, is in- 
tended to represent this land of promise^, 
our great country, Amerika; and the gold 

LONDON: Primttd OMdaMlBthml ly J.LIMBIRE 
143. Strmd, (^mear Ssmsnst Am$s) : oUs^tdM 
aU Botkmliers amd NemmmL^j^Smt 4m JMBil 

Clie Mitmt 



No. 906] 


[Pricb 2d. 

Combiit of t^t ^obrreigittf of Sn^lantr* 


Kino Hbhht VI. wai buried in the south 
aialtt of St. Oeorgu's Chapel, Windior, near 
tiM dioir dtitoti thii prince, after a lifis of 
piety and w\^ of tiouUe, died in the Tower 
of London, May 21, Ann. Dtim. 1472, or, ais- 
coiding to the more general opinion, was 
there murdered by Richard, Duke of Glou- 
cester : hiM corpse was next da^ carried to St. 
Pattl'if Church, and from thence cou?eyed by 
water to the Abbey of Chert sey, in Surrey, 
and Imried ; from hence it was removed, m 
the reign of Richard III., ta this choir, and 
a second ^time buried.' Jn' mente' AugutH 
Vol. zxxn, I 

effostum est Cmpm BegU Henriei §e»ii, H 
tuque HMMtm Eccietmm CbilegiaUtm ; de 
WiMhHivr est translutum^ iU honofffiee rs- 
cepium, ei cum vuunme toiemnitate iiterMm 
tummktiumt ad auMtrakm partem summi 
AltariM^ . Rossi Warwic Histor. Heg. Anirl, 
p. 217. 

This author farther iptimates, that th^ 
Prinoe*8 body was afterwards removed frnm 
Wiiidsor, and baried a third time, itmrum 
tertio creditur a phtribuM sepetiendut^ p. 21€^ 
And Stowe, in ttis Chronicle, says, ** h\H 
Tomb was removed from Windsor, and it i^ 


Tfi£ SinftOfi. 

It ia notorioui, from the sanctity of this 
,P6ot^^ life, and the circumstances of his 
^teth, that his lelics were held in great esti. 
mation by the people, insomuch as Henry VII. 
applied to the Court of Rome for his admis- 
sion into the calendar of the saints of that 
church, and also for a license fiom the Pbpe 
to renio?e the body from Windsor to West- 
minster Abbey, to be buried with great so- 
lemnity : but the exorbitant demand:! of the 
church of Rome prevented the intention of 
removing the body, though the Pope's boll 
was obtained for that purpose. From this 
application, and return of the Pope*s bull, 
the notion might arise, that the royal body 
was actually removed ; yet it is evident this 
purpose of Henry VII. was never put in exe- 
cution, as appears by tlie will of that prince, 
in which, speaking of Westminster Abbey, 
he says, « That we purpose right shortly to 
translate into the same, the body and re- 
Uques of our uncle of blessed memorie, King 
Henry VI." Farther, also, King Henry VIII., 
bv his will, speaking of his interment in this 
chapel, ordains, '< That the tombes and 
acdters of King Heniy VI., and also of King 
Edward IV., our great uncle and graunt. 
lather, be made more princely, in the same 
place where they now be, at our charge;" 
which certainly wis Prince would never have 
ordered, had the body of King Henry VI. been 
before removed ; and it appears at present, 
though much defaced by time, that the whole 
arch near which this prince is buried, was, 
according to this direction in King Heniy 
VIII.*s will, sumptttwisly decorated, and 
adorned with the royal ensigns, and other de- 
vices peculiar to this Prince, and the myal 
arms are neatly cut and blazoned on the cen- 
tie stone of the arcK. 

The burial of tliese two kings (Henry VI. 
and Edward IV.) ia this chapel, under the 
same loo^ and the unhappy fate of King 
Heniy, is by Pope's plaintive muse expressed 
in these words : 

^' Let softest straius ni-fiited Hetwy mourn. 
And pains eterDal flourish rouod his am ; 
Here o'er the mnrderM kni^ the marble weeps. 
And fast beside him» oDceJfear'd.EdKiinl sleeps; 
Whom, not th' extended AUiiun could contain. 
From old Belerium to the German main. 
The grave unites, where ev'n the great find rest. 
And tOeaded lie th* oppiessor and oppressU" 

Henry VI. w^as bom at Windsor, Dec. 6, 
142r i ascended the throne, August 31 , 1422 ; 
firodahned king of France the same year ; 
downed at Westminster, Nov. 6, 1429; 
unowned at Paris, Dee. 17* 1430 ; married to 
MargQtet, daughter of the Duke of Anjou, 
April 12, 1445; Jack Cade's insurrection, 
14[46 ; Henry taken prisoner at St. Alban's, 
H5B; but regained his liberty, 1461; and 
depos^ March 7 following, by his fourth 
cousin^ Edward IV. ; fled into Scotland, and 

takt*n4vi«0Mr in IdtBeadm, MfiS ; ^ 

to his throne, 1470; takrai prisoner a«;mn by 
Edward, April H, I47l ; Queen Margaret 
and her son taken prisoners at Tewkesbury, 
bv Edward, May 4 ; the prince killed in cold 
blood, and Henry murdered in the iWer, 
May 21, 1472. 
Well might Henty exclaim — 
" Uneasy lays the head that wean a crown ! *' 

Thibx is a mourner, and her heart is broken ; 

She Is a widow— she is old and poor ?— 
Her only hope is in that saered token ' 

Of peaceful happiness, when life is o*er. 

She asks nor wealth nor pleasure— bess no more 
Than Heaven's deliglitfbl volume, and the sight 

Of her Redeemer. Sceptics I would yon pour 
Yoor blasting viah) on her head, and blight 
Sharon's sweet rose, that blooms and charms her 
being's night ? 

She lives in her aflfections ; ft>r the grave 
Has closed upon her husband, children: aU 

Her hopes are with the arms she trusts will save 

Her treasur'd jewels. Though her views are small, 
. Thou^ she has never mounted hisli, to fidl 

And wnthe in Iter debasement, yet ttw spring 
Of her meekr tender feelings cannot pall 

Her unpervelted pidate, but will bring 

A joy withottt regret— a bliss that has no sthng. 

Even as a fountain, whose unsullied wave 
Wells in the pathless valley, lloliring o*er 

With silent waters, kissing, as they lave 
The pebbks with livht rippling, and the shore 
Of matted grass and flowers, — so softly pour 

The breathings of her boson* when she fnays. 
Long bowed befbre her Maker; — then no more 

She moses on the grief of former days ; 

Her full heart mdlta and flows in Heaven's dissolving 

And Faith can see a new woild, and the eyes 
Of Saints look pity on her. Death will come t 

A few sltort momenta over, and the prize 
Of peace eternal waits her, and the tomb 
Beccmies her fondest pillow ;— all its gloom 

Is scatter'd. What a meeting there will be 
To her and all slie loved here 1 and the bloom 

Of new 1^ from those cheeks shall never flee, — 

ThekB is the health which lasts through fll eternity ! 

J. O. FkBClVAI.. 

Yxs, we are chang'd~ there is not one 

Throughout the earth, from whom 
Some lovely treasure hath not gone. 

Of beauty or of bloom s 
And 9VBTy year and every day 
A something bright will pass away, ' 

Until we reach the tomb ! 
But thert AaiX Aide each earthly stidn. 
And we sMl all be pure again. 

Faib pledges of a ttnitM tree» 
Your date is not so past. 
But you may stay yet here awhile^ 
To blush, and geutty smiie. 
And go at last. 
What, were ye. bora to be 
An hour or halfs delight. 
And so to bid good night ? 
'T was Dity Nature bionght ye IbHh. 
Merely to show your worth* , 
And lose you quite. KiaaiOK, 



TION— No. L 
The disposal of bodieiy aHer death, by burn- 
ing them to ashes, was (as our readers are 
aware) extensively practised b^ the ancient 
^mans; and their eiample is followed by 
the modem Hindoos. Mr. Bidwer, in his 
'< I<ast Days of Pompeii,*' gives a vivid pic- 
ture of a Roman funeral ; and from his gra- 
phic description a veiy complete notion will 
be gained of all the ceremonies practised on 
the occasion ; particularly those which relate 
to the mode in which the iiineral ashes were 
collected and preserved. This is the point 
whidi has reference more especially to our 
present suliject It is impossible to forget, 
too, in connection with this subject, the 
Imming of poor Shelley's body, under the di- 
rection of Lofd Byron. A very impressive 
and pictuteaque sketch of the scene is given 
in Medwin's ** Conversations.'* He ob- 
. Mrves — *' On the occasion of Shelley's me- 
laoeholy fate^ I re-visited Pisa, and teamed, 
on the day of my arrival, that Lord Byron 
was gone to the sea-shore, to assist in per- 
iwmS'tU last offices to his friend. We 
eamm to a spot, marked by the old and wi- 
Iherad tmnk^of • fir-tiee ; and near it, on the 
beach, stood a toUtacy hut^ covered with 
vefds* The situatton W" well caladated for 
a poet's grave, A few weeks before, I had 
ridklen with Iiord Byroo and Shdley himself 
to this VBif spot* In front wasa nugnificent 
estcni of the blue and placid Mediterranean, 
with the iaies of Blba and Gorgona, and 
with Lord Byron's yacht at anchor in the 
ofRnff $r-on the other side, an almost iKmnd- 
leas extent of sandy wilderness, without cuU 
tivation and without inhabitants. This view 
was bounded by an immense. extent of the 
Italian Atos, which are here particularly pic- 
tucerique, from their volcanic appearance and 
varied shape ; and being composed of white 
marble, thtfir stimmits appear to be covered 
with snow. As a foreground to this picture, 
appeared an extraoidiaary group. Loid By- 
ron and 'Mr. Trelawney were seen standing 
over the Ixiraing pile, with some of the sol- 
diers of the gnafd, and Lei^h Hunt (whose 
aewee coi^d not cany him through the. 
scene of Ihorror,) lying back in the carjriage ; 
tibe four horses ready to drop with the inlen« 
sity :of the noonniity sum The stillness oC 
ail aiottnd was madet still mote evident, biy 
tlM shrill scream of a soUtarv «i«rlksw ; which j 
pertmps atthtffted by the bo^, wheeled round 
0ie pile in such: narrow ciielis,: that it might 
hava been struck with the hand^ and was so 
fearless, thatk cbnld not be driven away." 

The human body is, in g^neml, ib IHtle 
prone to combustidn, that it requires a very 
considerable time, with even an abundant 
of fuel,' to reduce it to ashes. Dr. 
(ttie most eminent British medt- 
I 2 

cal jurist) states, that the quantity of wood 
• requited to bum the body of an adult is about 
two cart-kiads. The last man burned at the 
stake in Europe (except one in Spain) was 
in Normandy { and it lequired two largo 
cart.load8 of fagifots, and several hourw, to 
efiecl complete combustion. In the buroirig 
of crimiuals, (when that horrid mode of jm<* 
ntyhmeotwaa adopted,) aa well as in the nu- 
merous case»of martyrs, who have triumpfaiBd 
in the flames, a great quantity of wood waa 
necessary; and amoog the Romans, (tor 
whom we have just leferred,) so much wood 
was required to consume a body, that it was 
too expensive a mode of disposing of tho 
dead, to be adopted by the common people. 
Hence a common fire, in the grate of a toomi 
is not likely to be sufficient tor the purpose. 
The murderer of Mrs. King occupied severalr 
days in horning the body, in a oommon 
ehamber-grate ; and though the mufderori 
Cook, five or six year^ ago, g[ot rid ai a 
groat part of his victim's body in two days, 
by cutting it in small pieces i>efore putting 
it on the ^re^ much seems to have been biv. 
ried, without having been on the fire at all. 
Indeed, the bones oanaot be calcined with- 
out tho heat of a farnace^ 

But though, in ordinary Oases, it is very 
diffiOuH to reduce a body to ashes, there 
are instances in which (from some ehango 
in its' constituent partb) it becomes suscep* 
Me of combustioiT, more or less oomplet<*| 
withouttho assistanoe of any fuel at alL — 
Even tiie bones, stubborn as- we have seen 
therti to be- in genend, have in several in- 
stances been ealeined. litis, which is ono 
of the most remarkable phenomena to which 
the body is liable^is called Spunianeoiu Hu* 
man Combtuiion. Some doubt, indeed, has 
arisen whether it should be called <*^ S/tonkt-^ 
neous Combustion." Dr. Christisoo, for, 
instance, while he looks upon preteniHtural 
comluMtidi&'ty of the body as a well-asoer- 
tained fact, regards spontaoeons eombusUon 
of it as a very questionable one : for, gene- 
rally speaking, some ignited body (such as a 
candle or pipe) has been discovered near tho 
remains of the body. Dr. Beck, a cole* 
brated American writer, (whose work on 
Legal Medicine is still the text-book most 
resorted to, -even by Eaglish studentsj) goes 
farther than this : for he says, that ** we al<* 
ways find some burning body mentioned, as 
having excited the phenomenon in question ;** 
and thaty '* probably, therefore, the term 
*<9poi^meous* ia not strictly accurate;" but 
he adopts it, " because of its general ive, 
and also becimse the term ' human coruiut* 
(ion, which it has been proposed to substii 
tute in its place, appears loo indefinite.'^— r 
Too indefinite it certainly would be ; since 
it would include all cases in which the body 
was destroyed by fire, from whatever cau!«e 
arising, md whether before Or after death. 



L1IK6 tne banal-ntet off tbe Romttis, tl 
M^eet hat not escaped tke pen of the n 
yew, howerer nhfitted it nnght appear 1 
In* pages. Captain Manrjrat, who is ratli 

At we proceed wilh the tabiecty howerer, 
we shall see reason to conctade» that the 
torm ** tpotUaneow** may tery properly be 
apfAied i for there are some well-attested 
flwet, in which no igneous sabstanoes were 
dnteoted; and many medical Jnrisis now 
admit the possibility of combnstion tdringt 
place in the body spontaneoosly. 

Like the bnrial-ntes of the Romans, this 

I rather 
remarkable for' the mode in which he de- 
mtohes his chftracterd,* takes off Jacob 
Faithful's mother by spontaneous combus- 
tion ; the principal phenomena of whidi he 
has described with great accuracy. The 
f(ood lady in auektion certninly appears to ' 
liave been a subject admirably fitted for such 
a catastrophe ; being ▼« ry fat, and an ab- 
ject slave to the bottle. Her corpulence 
was aggravated by want of exercise. *< Lo- 
c6motion was not to her taste — gin was. 
She seldom quitted the cabin, and the ves- 
sel never. Being of this domestic habit, 
(as all married women ought to be,) she 
was always to be found when wanted. But, 
although always at hand, she was not aU 
ways oh her feet ; for, towards the close of 
the day, she lay down upon her bed: a 
wise precaution when a person can no 
longer stand!*' At last she became ^a 
most unwieldly, bloated mountain of flesh.** 
Jacob thus describes her death on board 
the lighter :— 

*' I had finished my supper, which I 
washed down with a considerable portion 
of Thames water ; for I always dranic more 
when we were above the bridges, having 
an idea that its taste was more pure and 
fresh. Indeed, I was a great water-drinker, 
not altogfether from choice, but from the 
salt nature of my food ; and because my 
mother had still sense enough left to dis- 
cern, that < Gin wasn^t good for little boys.' 
Having nothing more to do, I lay down on 
the deck, and indulged in the profound 
■peculations of a boy of deven years old. — 
iwns watching the stars above me, which 
twinkled fainUy, and appeared to me ever 
and anon to be extinguished, and then re- 
lighted. I was wond«>ring what they could 
be made of, and how they came there, when 
I was suddenly interrupted in my reveries 
by a loud shriek, and perceived a strong 
arneU of 8omethin|p burning. The shrieks 
were renewed agam and again ; and I had 
kardly time to get on my legs, when my fa. 
thtf burst up from the cabin, rushed over 
the side of the lighter, and disappeared un- 
der the water. I caught a glimpse of his 
features aa %e passed me, and observed 
fKght andin^xieatioii blended together. I 

• •MtlMdHithartksnmMlacK in-MiMdp. 


ran to the side where be had di9ap]pe«red» 
but could see nothing but a few eifdyuig 
cjrolee, m the tide rushed quickly past.^. 
For a few seconds I remained staggered 
and stupefied ; but was recalled to recolldc- 
tion by the smoke which encompassed mi;^^ 
and the shrieks of my mother, which w^re, 
now fainter and fainter. I hastened to heir 
assistance. A strong, thick, empyreuma6c 
smoke ascended from the cabin, and mounted 
up into the air in a dense column. I' at-' 
tempted to go in ; but as soon as I encoun- 
tered the smoke, I found it was impossible ; 
it would have suffocated me in hAf a mi- 
nute. I did what most children would have 
done, in such a situation of excitement and 
distress— I sat down, and cried bitterly. In 
about ten minutes I removed mV hands, 
with which I had covered up my face, and 
looked at the cabin-hatch. The smoke had 
disappeared, and all was silent. I went to.. 
the hatchway, and, although the smell was 
still overpowering, T found that I could bear 
it. I descended the little ladder of three' 
stepd, and called * Mother !' but there waa 
no answer. The lamp fixed against the' 
bulk- head, with a ghiss before it, was still 
a-light ; and I could see plainly to every-, 
corner of the cabin. Nothing waa burning; 
not even the curtains of ray mother's bed 
appeared to be singed. I was astonished — 
breathless with fear. With a trembUngf 
voice I again called Out, ' Mother f* I re- 
mained more than a mindte pantimi^ for 
breath, and then ventured to draw back HW' 
curtains of the bed. My moUierwas aolr 
there; but there appeared to be a bJadt 
mass in the middle of the bed. I p«t asy 
hand fearfully upon it : it vras a sort of on* 
dieoos, pitciiy cinder. I scresned wiA 
horror; my Uttle aettses reeled; I stag 
gered from the cabin, and feH down on tWi 
deek."t N. R. 

Tbb buithen of the poet^a aoiif? aMj* '^bjp. 
Faituae'a favouritaa," be atigaaaftiaad aaanfts* 
rieal andBMaan th sopic;but,takaapcifriat> 
aocie^, aa ita cirdat revohre in giddy whifl» 
and the MMt, moial mantor ahatt be impa Hi A 
to aay, that its stala of caavmitinail ftiiliag 
oa wiih caaaa at the theme alladsa Uh «««»<« 
tker tmttm depr m ved at psaa snt ^mn it waa im 
Ovid*stiaBa. Thaw ia a aaaac ef daaaaaafea^ 
tiao in Ibe axpa iia oca aad obaaiiatioa of iaw 
dividnalsy which, combinad witk the OMa* 
af the matt prated^ 
praetical aaaa, im aU 
•estba aohiart basntt 

d cqualfy 
eseC the wotld, la 
Of ennlradiatiaii. It 

agasef the worid, laatas I 

T eonlradiatiaii. Itiaa^ 

Mt «PiKMMrity gaiaa finands," hot ttat 
<<Ad«anity Mas thaou*' New, the < 

f Thh aaslHiaa ^tiiwi ia is J 
b«t— riMjiBmCtwiyqeJi^iiiM 



cl]}cet (if tfie moraluii bio prav#, or efesay to 
eiqiriain, the raiaonal origin of such, apho- 
riitniB ; a task which we will test our ability 
to perform. 

Perhaps the following simile may do^ it 
ntcdnctly, if not perfectly. As creeping in- 
MCts, venomoHs reptiles^ with myriaiis of ani- 
malculsB, are attracted and engendered into 
life, by the efi\ilgent and vivifying rajrs of a 
genial summer's sun^ whilst riding in the 
meridian of his splendourS) and are equally 
repelled to fly for warmth and shelter to their 
mouldy holes and moss retreats, when the 
damp, chilling vapours of day-li^ht descend, 
and the lengthening evening shade obscures 
his departing glory ; so, that animal — man, 
f^eraily spekking, (for there are the noblest 
exoepticms to every dry and rigid rule,) joins 
himself, apparently with the most cordial 
sincerity, proffering an eternal friendship, to 
the circle of the social evolution of some 
wealthy compeer^— the rising sun of molten 
gold, carved and engraven with man*s de« 
vice; revelling in the convivial enjoyments 
of his banquet-board ; sharing, perhaps, in 
the dearest and most sacred penetralia of his 
household gods; commending his prodiga- 
lity, and probably inciting him to grandeur, 
deeds of luxury, and profusion ; going with 
him where he goes, dwelling with him where 
he dwells, and, in one word, making himself 
the double of his friend. But, 

Ob I what a foiling oS is therel 
wben hi* fortmie is wrecked upon the rocks 
o€ unloseseen mischance, his influence de- 
cUoea^his. income gradually glows less; — 
firat obe, and th«m another prop of human 
vanity is thrown down. Where are his ful- 
some, loving friends, to mend his shattered 
means— to rescue him from a jail, perhaps 
tlM tomb of his morhil existence, or the se- 
pulchre of his hopes, his prospects, and his 
honour f — where are those vermin that 
basked. in the noon-tide glow of his afiSiience 
and fame ^ Alas ! for the integrity and ho- 
stess of the human character t The ^ mu^ 
amiei** of. his happier. hours have foreaken^ 
and left him to the << merciless pelting of the 
pitUeaa .stocpi.'' of adverse circumstances ; 
and, nnlesa Qod be with, him, he is kit 
ii^one ! And, in return lor the many favours 
and acts of charity done to others, the world 
deride* his want of 4i$8criminafioH^''4a9 im^ 
pnidenee^-^eiha;pB hia eo^avaganoa; and 
daie& to juetify its own. cdd^heaitednessy 
dnfdici^, and dis8tmnfaitio% by ungratefully 
espoaiiig its victim's foibles^ and fiendishly 
ridiculing that genere^ and itigemtoue eon* 
fldmce in ihuman fmture, which was the 
mUmu^yrimaiey origin of his Biisfbrto&es ! 

> ' l^e fhai*s fiugtBMeM. has ad crime bat one ; 

;:t;4tB other ciivM inay.paM;.lbr virtaesin him. . 

Rmeomsiam' {i^umterfy Revmo,No,XVllh 


<< But, of all the tracks of oonveyanea 
which God has been pleased to open up be- 
tween the mind of man and the ^theatre by 
which he is snrronnded, there if none by 
which he so multiplies his aequaiBtaneo 
with the rich and varied creation on every 
side of himi as by the orpn of the eye. It 
is this which gives to him his loftiest .eom- 
mand over the scenery of nature ;-— it is this 
by which so broad a range of observation is 
submitted to him ; — ^it is this which enables 
him, by the act of a single moment, to send 
an exploring look over the surface of aa 
ample territory, to crowd his mind with the 
whole nsiiembly of its objects, and to fill 
his vision with those countless hues whjcK 
diversify and adorn it;— it is this which 
carries him abroad, over all that is sublime 
in the immensity of distance ; which seta 
him, as it were, on an elevated platform* 
from whence he may cast a survejring glance 
over the arena of innumerable worldai 
which spreads before him so mighty a pro* 
vince of contemplation, that the earth he 
inhabits only appears to furnish him with 
the pedestal on which he may stand, and 
from which he may descry the wonders of 
all that magnificence, which the Dirinity 
has poured so abundantly around him. It 
is by the narrow outlet of the eye that the 
mind of man takes its excursive flight over 
those golden tracks, where, in all the ex- 
haustlessness of creative wealth, lie scat- 
tered the suns and the systems of astro- 
nomy. But, oh ! how good a thing it is, 
and how becoming well for the philosopher 
to be humble, amid the proudest mdrch of 
hnman discovery, and the sublimest triumphs 
of the human understanding, wben he thinks 
of that unsealed barrier, beyond which no 
power, either of the eye or of the fdej^cope, 
shall ever carry him ; when he thinks that, 
on the other side of it, there U a height 
and a depth, and a length, and a br^i^dth, to. 
which the whole of this concavt^ and viifible 
firmament dwindles into the inf^igiitftcanciy 
of an atom; and, above all, how ready 
should he be to cast his every lofty imagi- 
nation away from him, when he thinksf of 
the God who, on the simple foiindation of 
his word, has reared the v^hole of Ihia 
stately architecture, and, by the force of hia 
preserving mind, continues to uphold it ; — 
ay, and should the word again come out 
from him, that this earth shsll ptisa away, 
and a portion of the heaveas vihUh ara 
around it shall again fall back into the antii- 
hilation from which he at firj^t iinmnioned 
them,— what an impressive rebak© doe* it 
bring on the swelling vanity of Eciencej to 
^ink that the whole field of it^ mnii ambU 
tious enterprises tfiay be swept away nlto^^ 
gether>.and there remain before the eyp of 
Him who sitteth on the throne an untia^ 



yeUed imiii«Mit|r, whieVli* Itaih filled with 
innomerable splendoara, and over the whole 
face of which ne hath inifcribed the e^dence 
of hi* hifh attributes, in all their might, 
alKl in all their manifestation I'' — Chalmert* 

By an Ey9-W%tne$t» 
Fbom the time of my arrival in the Russian 
capital, one of the sights which I was parti- 
cularly anxious to witness, was that of a 
criminal undergoing the knout. This grati- 
fication, however, is much more difficult to 
be obtained than a person accustomed to the 
publicity given to every act connected with 
the administration of justice in England will 
easily understand. There, the law wisely 
considers punishment in the light of aiding 
\i\ the prevention of crime, by exhibiting, 
in as awful a manner as possible, the un- 
avoidable and dreadful consequences of con- 
victed guilt, rather than as an act of retri- 
bution on the guilty offender. In Russia, it 
seems nearly the reverse : here* as an ex- 
ample, it is disregarded, and assumes in a 
great measure the aspect of barbarous and 
unmeaning revenge. The whole prr»ceed- 
ings of the courts of justice are conducted, 
if not with absolute secrecy, at least without 
any steps being taken to make their uro- 
eeedings public. No part of the trial or 
sentence is ever published ; and when the 
criminal is at last convicted, {and years, I 
understand, sometimes elapse before the 
proceedings terminate,) tne punishment 
takes place, not in the heart of the city, but 
in a remote corner, and at an hour earlier 
than even an Old Bailey execution. 

Late one evening, I received a note from 
an acquaintnnce, informing me that a cri- 
minal was to be knouted on the following 
morniag, at seven o'clock. His father was 
e respectable tradesman, occupying a shop 
in the Gostinoi Door; a man, from all I 
could learn, remarkable for sobriety and 
Industry. His son was entirely the reverse, 
being idle, dissipated, and worthless. One 
day, having received some well- merited 
rebuke from his father, he seized a knife, 
and, in the presence of the whole family, 
plunged it into the body of the old man, 
who died upon the spot. He was imme- 
diately seised and disarmed, and, after a 
wonderfully expeditious trial, for Russia, 
sentenced to uie knout. The blows ad- 
judged for infliction amounted to one hun« 
(dred and one — this number being considered 
equivalent to a sentence of death. A direct 
sentence of death is by the law of Russia 
abolished, except for military or state crimes. 

The following morning, accompanied by 
the friend from whom I received the inti- 
mation) I repaired, between six and seven 
o'clock, to the place of punishment, which 

If in a field where « hofae-tBariDft h ^Mti 
on the banks of the Ligaat emial, intAef 
more than a mile from the Admiral^* 
From being so early on the g^round, we hnA 
a good opportunity of examining the pre- 
parations tor the execution. They wer« 
simple enough. A strong flat stake, and • 
few mats knd on the ground, formed Ae 
whole that were visible. The stake waa 
nearly five feet hight planted veiy firmly ia 
the ground, and sloping about eight or ten 
inches off the perpendicular. In thicknesi 
it was about four indies, but its breadUi 
was very unequal, being fully two feet at the 
top, and tapering gradually g^undward to 
the eaiih, where it was not above eight 
inches. On Ae top, it was hoHowed oat 
into three semi^circlet-^the central one 
being appropriated for the neck, and Uie 
two others for the anna of the erimiaaii 
Near to the poondy the stake was pene* 
trated by a hole of some two or three 
inches in diameter, for the recep^n of • 
cord wherewith to bind the malefactor's 
aadea. The mats were spread out on one 
side of the stake, for the purpose, as I 
imagined, of making the footing of the 
executioner at firm as possible. 

Exactly at seven o'clock, a bustle amone 
the military attracted our attention; and 
on looking round, we saw the criminal 
approaching on foot, guarded by four dis- 
mounted gen-d'armes, with miked sabres, 
accompanied by several officers of police, 
and followed by two executioners ---each 
bearing under his arm a bundle, which we 
afterward found contained knout thongs. 
The battalion now formed a hollow square, 
three deep--*the police, executioner, and 
criminal being in toe cent^. 

I must now describe the criminaL He 
was apparently about twenty-five years of 
age, very full built, but of low stature, with 
a countenance of that stolid description 
which defies all the science of the physiog^ 
nomist. Though near him, and anxious t9 
read in his features the workings of the 
mind within, I could neither trace remorse* 
ferocity, nor fear. He seemed perfectly 
caHous to his siiuation, and while sentence 
was being read, he deliberately took off J»it 
cap, and prepared himself with periW^ 
coolness wt his- punishment. Having 
thrown aside his caftan and shirt, and 
having nothing on but his trousers and 
boots, he approached the stake with n 
firm step, and was duly fastened to it by the 
exectttionera. This done, these /unetion- 
•ries* threw off their coati, and ^t readj 
the instruments of torture. The knont 
consists of a handle about a feet long, 
with a piece of twisted hide of the same 
length. To this hide ia attached, by- • 
loop, a piece of thong prepared to almost 
metallic hardness, in length about four or 



ibe feet> pMrftciljr flftt, And an inch broad : 
it 11 oliang«d alter every fix or eight Uow«» 
as it IB considered unfit for use when it 
becomes soft. 

The principal executioner having placed 
hiDMelf within five or six feet of the pri- 
soner, with the thong of the knout on the 
ground, rather behind him, then drew it 
forward, raising it slowly and steadily tiU 
it had attained the proper elevation, when 
he brought it down with tremendous force 
i^on the middle of the criminal's back, 
leaving a deep crimson murk of nearly an 
inch in breadtk, extending from his neck to 
the waitband of his trousers. Upon re- 
eeiving the blow, the wretch uttered a 
•cream, or rather a yell of agony, and every 
fibre of his body seemed in a state of Solent 
and instantaneous contortion. With scarc^y 
any interval, the blow was repeated, fol- 
lowed by the same result — the same fright- 
fol yell— the same appalling shudder. The 
second mark appeared about an inch from, 
and parallel to, the first: a third, fourth, 
and nfth blow followed, in quick succession, 
when the operator stepped aside and re- 
signed his place to his assistant. The 
blows from the latter were light when com- 
pared with those inflicted by the elder exe- 
cutioner, more so, indeed, than the differ- 
ence between their size and strength, great 
as it was, might seem to justify. After 
nving. eight blows, the assistant retired in 
his turn, when his principal, who in the 
meantime had fitted on a fresh thone, 
resumed the dreadful task. He was affain 
succeeded by the young man, who in like 
manner had. renewed the efficacy of his 
weapon by a similar process of renovation. 
In this numner did tbey continue mutually 
relieving one another ; and, at each relay, 
adding a new thong, till the destined num- 
ber of blows were inflicted on the lacerated 
back of the parricide. About the fiftieth 
stroke, his struggles having partially loos- 
ened the fastenings, it was fouud necessary 
to. stop and have them fixed more firmly. 
From the first till about the twentieth blow, 
fUnAk was followed by the same scream and 
eonvntsions ; from the twentieth till the 
fiftieth both gpradually became weaker ; the 
latter, indeed, had degenrated into a sort of 
shivering. After the fiftieth, both ceased : 
the criminal's head fell to one side, and 
though each touch of the knout brought 
with it a convulsive shudder, he seemed to 
be perfectly uncDn8cious of pain. 

, The punishment concluded, the chief 
executioner took some instruments from his 
bag, aiid with them marked the malefactor 
on the forehead, on each cheek, and on the 
otiin. This, I understand, was merely- a 
lorra typical of branding, which, as well as 
slitting the nostrils, was always inflicted 
upon a knouted crimiiial, until the humanity 
of the Emperor Alexander prompted htm to 

abolish both pr—H oH* Tho marks are ntfw 
made wi^ a cold inftnimen^ and are, I 
believe, easily effaced. 

The criminal's back now exhibited a 
horrid spectacle. It was one mangled, 
bloated mass, of a deep crimson hue ; yet 
still, mangled as it was, no blood ran from 
it. A common cart having been draw into 
the square,^ the executioners untied the 
strap by which the malefactor was fastened 
to the stake, and with the assistance of tho 
gen-d'armes, carried him to and placed him 
in the cart, throwing his shirt lightly upon 
him, then his caftan, then a mat over all. 
When removed from the stake, he was quite 
insensible ; so much so, that I did not sup- 
pose he would survive till he reached tho 
hospital : but I was mistaken : for upon 
observing him attentively, after being placed 
in the cart, I perceived that he had so far 
recovered as to attempt to move one arm. 
I could not observe any surgeon attending 
the execution; nor indeed would it have 
been of any consequence, as the number of 
stripes is specified, and, whatever happens, 
they must be administered. 

He was driven off to the prison with the 
same guards and attendants as at first ; the 
whole affair, from the arrival till the depar- 
ture of the criminal, not exceeding twenty 
minutes. What became of him afterward, I 
could not learn; but I have little doubt 
that in a few days he died from the fever 
and mortification that were likely, or rather 
certain, to follow such severe injury. On 
the event of his recovery, he would be sent 
to end his life in the mines of Siberia, and 
this could scarcely be called the least part of 
his punishment Such is the knout. 


About forty years ago, a youg seal was 
taken in Clew Bay, in Ireland, and domesti- 
cated in the kitchen of a gentleman whose 
house was situated on tne sea- shore. It 
grew apace, became familiar with the ser- 
vants, and attached to the bouse and famit^^ 
its habits were innocent and gentle, it played 
with the children, came at its roaster*s call, 
and, as the old m(in described him to me^ 
was " (bnd as a dog, and playful as a 

Daily the seal went out to fish, and after 
providing for his own wants, frequently 
i>rought in a salmon or turbot to his master. 
His delight in summer was to bask in the 
sun, and in winter to lie before the fire, or, 
if permitted, creep into the large oven, 
which at that time formed the regular ap- 
pendage of an Irish kitchen. 

For four years the seal had been thus do- 
mesticated, when, unfortunately, a disease, 
called in this country tAe erippuwn-'h kind 


fHiB iihfitlftdk. 

(The lU'iid S*ul.) 

of pnrttlytie affeclion of ihe limbs, vTiich^ 
aeriiUjr end$ fatall)' — attacked some black 
cattle belonging to the ma^fter of the hoase; 
a^Kii cfledy others became infected, and the 
«i|irtom(iry cure produced by changing them 
49 driffr pasture failed. A wi^e woman was 
«9n8i}lted, and the hag assured the credulous 
•woer» that the mortality among his cows 
w)is occasioned by his retaining an unclean 
.beast about his hubitation — the harmless 
Md amusing seuK It must be raude away 
with directly, or the crippawn would con- 
tiiiue, and her charms be unequal to avert 
ih^ malady. The superstitious wretch con- 
aeiited to the hag's proposal ; the seal was 
imt on board a boat, carried out beyond 
CAare Island, and th^e committed to the 
deep, to manage for himself as he best could. 
The boat returned, the family retired to 
resty And next morning a servant awakened 
.he?' master to tell him that the seal was 
fMietly sleeping in the oven. The poor 
iMitmui ovAT night came back to his beloved 
home, crept through an open window, and 
took ' possesfloo of Ida favourite resting- 

Ntxi morning ano^er cow was reported 
to be imwell. The seal must now be finally 
removed; a Galway fishiog-boat was leaving 
Westport on her return home, and the 
master undertook to carry off the seal, and 
Bttt put him overboard until he had gone 
leagues beyond Innis Boffin. It was done 
«— a day and night passed ; the second 
evening closed — the servant wiis raking the 
fire for the night — something scratched 
gently at the door — it was of course the 
li6use*dog-— she opened it, and in came the 
seal ! Wenried with his long and unusual 
vo'yagr, he te^* lifted by a peculiar cry, ex- 

pressive of pleasure, hiff deffght to find Mni^ 
self at home, then stretching hionself Mbf* 
the glowing embers of the hearth, he^ THl 
iuto a deep sleep. 

The master of the house was fanmediately 
apprized of this unexpected and nnwMecMiid 
visit. In the exigency, the beldame trt# 
awakened and consulted; she averred lh«€ 
it was always unlucky to kill a seal, b4t 
sugpsted that the animal should be dtfprfte^ 
of sight, and a third time carried out t6'«^ac. 
To this proposition the person who owned 
the house consented, and the aflbctfeymdl^ 
and confiding creature was cruelly rohhe^ 
of sight. Next morning, Writhing in ^^ony 
the mutilated seal was embarked, taken 
outside Clare Island, and for the last time 
committed to the waves. 

A week passed over, and things became 
worse instead of better ; the cattle died fast, 
and the beldame gave him the pleasurable 
tidings that her arts were useless, and that 
the destructive visitation upon his cattle 
exceeded her skill and cure. 

On the eighth night after the seal had 
been devoted to the Atlantic, it blew tre- 
mendously, in the j^auses of the tftonn, a 
wailing noise at times was fair.tly heard at the 
door. When morning broke, the door was 
opened— the seal was there lying dead upon 
the threshold I 

The skeleton of the once plump animal— 
for, poor beast, it perished from hunger, 
being incapacitated from blindness to pro- 
cure its customary food — was buried id a 
sand-hill, and from that moment Uiisfortunes 
followed the abettors and perpetrators ef 
this inhuman deed. The hug who had de- 
nounced the inofiensive seal, was, within a 
twelvemonth, hanged for murder. Etery 



tiling about this derotod house melted awajr 
—sheep rotted, cuttle died, ** and blighted- 
wai the eorn." Of gererd ehihUren none 
reached matarity, and the sarage proprietor 
tonriired every thing he lored or cared for. 
He died blind and miierable. 

There is not a fttobe of the cottage build- 
ing standing upon another* 


BiBOt present in their habits an interesting 
leature which distinguishes them from 
utmost all other animals, viz. that most ot 
them not only live in monogamy, but in • 
union, which ends only with the death of 
One of the -parties. Moreover^ the unkm of 
birds is distinguished by the circumstance^ 
that the males- cf almost all the species living 
in monogamy, inierettt themsenres in their 
progeny; whereas is the Mmmma Na, man 
alone excepted, it is Only the female who 
takes charge of the young. This is partly 
a natural conseq[uence of their being suckled 
by the female parent ; but even after they 
b^ ^>een weaned, the dam alone feeds or 
Ifuides them, whereas the male does not even 
;kiM>w or acknowledge his progeny. 

It is the male that maintains, with great 
^HMiMMfy* the place where the nest is to be 
^onstnuMied. This has been ascribed to the 
jflj^ottsy with which they assert their rights 
itfh* legitimate husbands; and it is true that 
fj^ male birds of many s|>ecies do not tole- 
fate any of their own species and sex within 
fk i;ertain district ; but the females are never 
k to contend for the building-place as the 

' A st^ng had this year built its nest in 
».box, fixed on a tree near my house. The 
,¥OBng had scarcely left it^ when a couple of 
.AOUse-«parrows, who had before made seve- 
ral vain endeavours to build in the same box, 
Jl9ok possession of it. A few days after, the 
^oung starlings 1)0ing so far advanced that 
J^y no longer required the incessant atten- 
^n of their parents, the latter appeared 
ll|piin> and dislodged the sparrows; but 
only the' males fought The male starling 
^^ifared the box of the feathers carried there 
jby the sparrows, and by making^ use of both 
,^leak and wings^ drove the vociferous cock 
marrow to a good distance from the box. 
J^ the ihird morning the hen sparrow had 
l^nA an egg in the box ; the male starling 
arHved, entered the box, brought out the 
.figg in his beak, and dropped it. The cock 
H^row now, for the first time, furiously aU 
lACked the starling, but was so ill received 
ihiit it made a precipitate retreat. After 
.this the starling no longer disputed the 
pbce with the sparrows, which built in the 

* By the Rev. Dr. Brehm. of Rsnthendorf, in 
i^tatftty. Eztraeted from the Mogasiao of Natoxsl 
H^ftory. No. 9<VVoL 11. 

box and reared (heir youngs In a similar 
maniief ai^e^oonducted all4ttr«||gles for bnild- 
ing i>laceii ; the males fight it out, while the 
females remain passive 4ipectators.** 

The great sea-eaghis hover mpmin over 
their eyries, and both parents take a share 
in rearing their youo^. Nay, the male 
feeds and guides then, in common with the 
female, after they have left their nest, until 
they can provide for their own sUbtbtesee 
and safety. Buseardsi alsO| the male not 
only feeds the female while she is sitting, 
but takes ovre of the young with great kind- 

The male of the honey-bussard pre s e u ti 
the onfy instance known among mrds oC 
prey, of not only assisting ^ female !■ 
rearing the young, hot aise m hmtehing. 
They relieve each other regularly, mt. 
Madel, of Gotha, shot a male upon its eyrie, 
and found that it had been sittmg upon the 

'I1ie male of both the russet and blackish* 
brown species of kite behave to their pro- 
geny like other birds of prey ; but they snow 
such caution in the exercise '•f4heir parental 
affi?ctioi|, that when they apprehend any 
dangelr, they will mar over the eyrie bcyo ad 
the range of guns, end let the food fell vHm 
it from that height, ■> 

The males of the noble lalcoM e«fM» 
about the same kind of affeo^n ^or'4h«ir 
young as the hawhs. That of the pdregrisb 
falcon is but two-thirds the sine of ihe 
female, but he feeds her whibt sheis eiltiftfy 
and assists faithfully in rearing the yMfUg. 
lie clings so much to the favourite rock oli 
which the eyrie is built, as to remain 4h«M 
even after the female and young have been 
destroyed. There is another speeiea olih^ 
falcon, called Sitblmie^y that present peoidiirir 
features. "It feeds its sitting- mate, but 
does not carry the food to the eyrie itselt 
When it has caught a b|rd, it flies round' end 
round the nest, shouting giee, fiee, giee. 
Upon this the female, uttering a similar ery, 
leaves her eggn or tender young, flier to 
meet the male, and takes the prey from him, 
carrying it to the eyrie, there to eat it in ee«h> 
fort. It is delightful to observe the aflfee- 
tiooate meeting of these noble filcons. In 
feeding the young the' same forms are«b. 
served ; the male soars round the nest wit)i 
his joyous call, until the female arrives to 
receive the prey and carry it to the young. 
It is only when the female has been killed 
that the male extends his functions, and 
carries the food to the eyrie, where he often 
feeds the young with insects from his craw. 
It is abiO verv interesting to observe how the 
male trains the young to hunting. — At flrtt 
they are taught to seize some prey which the 
male presents to them when both parties ans 
on the win^. When they are able to do thap 
with sufficient precision, they catch dead 
birds> «fec. which the parent lata fall ; end 



thu inttruetion it contiitiitfcl until the yonng 
are skilful enough to catch living birdt.*' 

The behafiour of the Kestrel in very dif- 
ferent. The males of this sub-genus are so 
much attached to their femalesy that they 
keep together even after the breeding sea- 
son. They, migrate with their re^^pective 
mates to distant oountriev, and return with 
Ihem. During the breeding season the at- 
tentions of Uie male become more marked, 
even before the first egg l|as been laid. 
When the iemale is restmg near the newly- 
constructed eyrie, especially towards night- 
fall, the male will often carry to her a mouse, 
4to,f and in arriving he utters a very tender 
ealU which is returned by the fem«le. When 
she has begun to sit, she may safely trust 
to the faithful care of her mate, who never 
fails to provide her with choice morsels. The 
food which he carries to her consists chiefly. 
1^ mice. When he arrives hn enters the 
eyrie with great eugemess, and appears to 
delight so much in seeing the female feast- 
ing,: that he often stays a considerable, time, 
during which tlifs ooi^le exchange many ten- 
der sounds, it is only after the female is duly 
provided for, that the male thinks about sa- 
tisfying his own appetite ; and this having 
been done, he perches on the pinnacle of an 
old tower, or a neighbouring tree, to keep 
watch over the femaJe. He afterwards con- 
tributes his due share in rearing the young, 
to which he gives the food previously pre- 
pared in >his craw. There is no eyrie where 
there is more bustle .than about Uiat of the 

Many are the peculiarities to be observed 
in the three species of sparrow-hawk» which 
are indigenous in Germany. " Even during 
the breeding season, the male perseveres in 
^lat stubborn and insidiou$ disposition which 
is pecuh'ar to the sub-genus, and which the 
female losee about that period. These spe-^ 
cies show a boldness when near their eggt 
or young, which is perfectly ridiculous. In- 
stead of retreating when a man approaches 
the nest, they fly to meet him, perch before 
him in the most open place, and will even 
sometimes make a rush at the great enemy 
of all other creatures. On one occasion, a 
female sparrow-hawk would have taken my 
cap from my heac^ if I had not parried her 
•ff with any gun. The male does not act so 
openly. He sup^^ies the female with (bod> 
as long as she is sitting or. warming the 
young; but he proceeds in a very secret 
manner in performing the business. It is 
difficult to oatch a glimpse of him when car- 
rving food- to his nest *y and except at that 
time he is not to be seen at all. When the 
female of other lards of prey has been scared 
from her eyrie, and utters her anxious call, 
tiia male appears at^nce, joins her in her 
lamentations, and is ready to do all in his. 
power to defend their progeny. The male 
of the sparrow-hawljc behaves in a very difr. 

ferent way. Let the Jeqiale call eter M^ 
loudly and piteously,,her mate will n<^ make 
his appearance, at least so long as the yoimg 
are not far advanced in growth. I am able 
to bear full testimony to the truth of this, 
baring closely watched these birds near five 
difibrent nests. It is only when the young 
are become larger, and the parents . are 
obliged to make unusual exertions, that the 
male show4 himself uncommonly active. He 
is then heard scretlming about tfte eyrie, and 
seen carrying the prey to it* Pour yoimg 
ones, when nearly fledged, require a dailgr 
allowanee of from sixteen to twenty aaMil 
birds ; and one or the other of the old birda 
arrives at. the nest with food, at least once 
an hour, in case the neighbourhood abounds 
in such young birds as have lately left their 
nests ; whereas before, the young were (eA 
only once in two hours. Nay, if the female 
has been shot, the male makes double oc- 
ertions, and will hinnsdf bring lirom twelve 
4o fifteen birds daily." 

<< I know that the male of the reed-kite 
feeds his iemale whilst site is hatching, and 
assists her in rearmg the young. This is 
also the case with the com and meadow kite. 
It is remarkable how asriduously the females 
of the reed-kite are courted. I know an in- 
stance in which three males were shot near 
the same female in two days. The male of 
the corn-kite appears to take great delight 
in hovering over nis sitting mate. If, in the 
month of June, we see a male of that spe- 
cies soaring much over one particular spot,' 
we may be almost certain of finding the nest 
there, in com, grass, or low bushes. While 
the young are being reared, the male of the 
kites hunts very eagerly and boldly, bfteii 
tiU after sunset." 

(^ConttMuedfnm page 99.> 
Our author leaves France, and arrives at the 
Alps, by the way of Camberry and Mohht 
Cenis. At a little town called St. Jean de 
Maurienne, a rivulet comes down the moun- 
tain, which has, from the quality . of the 
water, formed for itself 

Jl Natural Calcareous Aqueduct 
through its whole course. The ajqpearance 
is siufpilaiiy imposing. The water, b¥ its 
petrifying qualities and calcareous depo- 
sitions, has raised itself mtMy inches above 
the gieuml on either side of it, and formed 
for itself an artificial spout or aqueduct, ae 
ikr as the eye could follow it up the side of 
the mountain. 

7%e Descent of Mount CeniSt 
in our wny to Turin, was very magnificent. 
Leavinis' Uie plain of St. Nicholas, you 



d»ic«nd an ahnoit ptipMidiaiUur mountftin 
bgr tevend ttiipendbui galleries cut in the 
iolid gianite. These iSeries are guarded 
by ttrong walls, and the road is spacious 
and of easy carriage. You see it not winding 
bat doubUng belovr you, stage after stage, 
upon the steep precipice ; a cascade from 
the mountain is constantly crossing your 
eourse, but conducted under you by beautiful 
arches; and on the right and left of the 
vcene, as you look into the valley of Cenis 
below, are Mount Gtenevre and Rochemelon 
piercing the clouds. After passing into the 
talley of Cenis and through it, you again 
descend and descend till you reach the valley 
of Suza. You see below delightful valleys, 
checkered with villages, and laid out into 
vineyards, and at such a distance beneath you 
tliat at first you are in doubt whether the houses 
of the villages be not the stones of the valley; 
and the vineyards with their straight lines, 
look like the marks of a chess-board. 

Froin the Alps, Dr. Fisk proceeds through 
Italy ; and at Florence witnesses the 

Manu/aciure o/ the Celebrated Florentine 
which, instead of being wrought and shaded 
with painted glass, like ordinary mosaics, is 
wrought in a tablet of slate or marble, with 
precious stones of the nabiral colour; the 
only- manufacture of the kind in the world ; 
and like that of the Royal Gobelin tapestry 
uk Paris,, it is lirholly in the hands of the 
SQvereign, and the artists are allowed to 
work foe no one else. The great difficulty 
in this work is to match the stones with the 
Kquisite shades. To this end, all the varie- 
gated colours of the most beautiful stones 
iuid gems are procured and arranged for the 
use of the artist To give some idea of the 
expense of this kind of manufacture : one 
table, whidi was nointed out tp. us, and 
which was neariy nnished for the altar of 
the royal chapel, had employed twelve per- 
sons ior eight y^trs, and would cost twenty 
thousand crowns. 

Funeral Ceremonies of the Neapolitans* 
. Those who can afford the en»ense of • 
funeral are generally buried by fraternities, 
who are associated together for this purpose. 
The different' societies are dressed in long 
loose robes of various colours, according to 
their respective regulations, and all of them 
wear masksj or, rather, a sort of dose hood, 
ivith openings for the eyes. These bodies 
ivalk in procession, bearing lighted wax 
eanclles, and are frequently followed by a 
number of Franciscfln and Capuchin monks, 
who are dre^ised in black or brown mantles, 
with cowls hanging back upon their shoulders, 
exposing their naked heads sometimes half 
ahaven; and whose feet are shod with a 
kind of sandal, or a shoe, having only a sole, 
and strapiit to bind and fasten it to the foot. 

We followed a procession of this kind on* 
evening, just as the shadows of approaching 
night were beginning to cast a g^oom upon 
the city, which is the usual hour for their 
sepulchral ceremonies. They led us into an 
upper room, where the corpse w^s lying in 
state, in^ full dress and with painted face ; 
after a little ceremony and religious service,, 
the body was taken and borne off to the 
church in solemn procession. The scene' 
was heightened by the hour, by the long 
ranges of lights streaming upon the darkness, 
and the deep chant of the monks, " Reguiefn 
aternam dona eis^ Z>omine,ei hue perpetua 
luceat eis," (" Give them eternal rest, O 
Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon 
them.") When we arrived at the church, 
another more extended service was performed, 
and the coffin, in an unaccountable manner, 
disappeared. I suppose it must have been 
lowered down through the floor of the 
church; for we went down into the vault 
below, and found they had just been engaged 
in the buriaL 

Chfoier of f^esmvius. 
Most of th^ travellers who have described 
this crater, agree in saying that it is from 
fifteen hundred to two thousand feet deep ; 
and many of them speak of the possibility of 
approaching to the bottom. All this, to a 
Visiter of the mountain in its present form, 
would seem uttterly at variance with the 
truth. You go down, perhaps, for half a 
mile, a pretty rapid descent, over cli^ and 
yawning chasms, and through smoke and 
heated gas. Here you arrive at the inner 
crater ; at the hole, for such it seems, which 
has been made through the bottom of this 
gigantic vase, and into which in lEisedeil the 
cylindrical tube, that seems to i^xtend quite 
down to the lambent flames and fiery jioul of 
Tartarus. Of the depth of thi^ e) Under ymt 
have a very imperfect means of jmf^ii^ ; and 
whenever by a favourable action of th^ wind 
or a temporary suspension of the amokcj you 
approach a little nearer, and attempt a more 
satisfactory examination, a heatt^d puff t^t 
sulphureous gas and smoke i1 rives you back 
all but suffocated, to get a breath of pan 

Ckeigf living at fiome* 

A dinner for six, consisting of three kinds 
of meat, soup, vegetables,' macatoni, and a 
pudding, and enough to spare for the ser* 
vants, was abont two dollars. The whole 
expense for our establishment,' including th^ 
cost of the public places visited, and the 
coach-hire, lodgings, dsc, was about two 
dollars a piece per day. This cheapness of 
living in Rome is one chief cause why so 
many strangers resort here. Many an im- 
paired English fortune has been restored 
and disencumbered by the removal of theii' 
domestic establishn^ent to Ital}', when » 



r? Bpeetiibi« re*ukwoie at home would hw 
involved th^m deeper in debt. 

While at ilMP church of St, CecUia in 
TrastiverCf the "author was preeent at the 
ceremoDj of two joang ladie« 

Taking the MTMte Feil, 
After refrenhaMnt we went into the 
churchy aod aooo an aged bishop, with 
locks whiter than wooI> entered with hi« 
attendants. A golden crosier was borne 
before him. He was then dad with bin 
sacerdotal vestments, the principal of which 
was a robe of silver tissue borderd with gold, 
and a mitre studded with briUiaitts. Soon 
the candidates entered, dressed like prin- 
cesses, followed by little girls with wings 
fiN>m their backs in the character of angels, 
heading np their trains. After some cere- 
mony by the bishop and the candidates, a 
£«ooorse was delivered by a priest, which 
seemed to be a defence of perpetual 
virginity, and a reference to the advantages 
of (he monastic life. • The novices then 
retired^ and directly appeared at a grate 
communicating with . the. church. This 
grated window had an altar on each side, 
within and without, and a commonication 
between them about eight or ten inches 
square. Here, with the bishop and priests 
on OHH ftid<*j and the youug ladies with their 
attendanU on th&oth«r, Uie appointed sefw 
TLce WAS pefformeJ, By the lundnfss of 
tb« breather of one dJ Uie candidates, l^waa 
liccoiiimodBtiH] with a favourable position 
near the iiLLiri aad i\«va the new vestments 
with which thi?y were about to be clethed. 
Thtfjo lay in two separate piles, with the 
came af ^nch npan her pareeL After a 
portion of the ftervice, the candidates placed 
their hea<)4 by the window of the grate; 
and the officinting biaJiop, with a pair ol 
golden 4C)Nsorii, Uktn fron^ a pliite (2f gold, 
€ut ofi' a lock oi their hair-^ They then 
under vrent n compUti" transformation as to 
their giiTnaenta. l*hf rich head-dfess and 
crnAmifnU were taken ofi^ the hair turned 
back, the line tre^^es straightened, and a 
pl^n tieht cap without a border pnt upon 
the heail. The ornt^nieats were taken, from 
the arm^; the eunt^ the neck ; the rich dress, 
m tthort, waj» removed, and left the cimdi- 
dftten inode§ily bki^hing with only a close 
white underdredri to cover them. The 
whole of Ihb gfiy atiiie and these princely 
orn B men tfl were loftj^eljr rolled t^getlu^r f^d 
put lain >he hands of toe wearer, who, with 
some senten^ Whieb Teoiild not understand, 
by(^, ^is^Hrpisi undonbtteid^, evpessive i>f 
h^.nbdipation^ Mm world and its vamlie^ 
as if di^^kottld'Say^ . 

V I bid thtoiroild sCmriMi aad sbow^ ^ 

. : \: . WittL^ its flatt«ViuS4B|ttMr »4m<t^ ^ 

fPi^ibetti'irQm her. Her new aitirerwas 
<|>^ biollighi lorwsrd, and ariieW after 
fW||cltfi%»S3irtieeiscll ^.thimigh th^ ffsale^ 

nffectioiMlely kissed and Mit on, an oflcial 
nun standing: by ««eh candidate aM assis ting 
in the investment The order of the doth- 
lAff was, 9» nearly as I can recoiled, as 
foUows \ ^sty a scariy with an opening lor 
the head^ was thrown over the shouldeKS» 
and hung down, perha|M, as low as tli«. 
knees, before and behind; around tbia 
a white sash ; over the whole a robe, which, 
like the other garments, was of fine white 
stuff like worsted ; then a peculiar collar, 
for the necjcy which was turned dow» 
before, but turned up behind, and pinned 
at the back of the head ; and, finally, th« - 
white hood or veil, which was made stiff, 
and fashioned somewhat, in the part for tiM, 
head, like a peasant's sun-bonnet, in onr 
country, without, however, being gathered 
behind, for it extended down like a sdff 
veil over the shoulders. A crucifix, raeary,, 
and prayer-book, toirether with a lij|htcd 
candle, were given to each ; all of which, 
as they were received one . 1^ one, were 
kissed by the candidates, as also was the 
priest's hand who presented them. Last of 
an, the head was surmounted by an armiUary 
crown, either of silver, or tintel resembling 
silver. The whole of (his transfohniitiois 
was sudden, and the contrast most striking. 
It was as if a princess, by the touch of • 
Roman wand, had been metamorphosed inti> 
a meek-eyed, modestly-apparaOed sistec ot 

Thus habited, the two norices threw them- 
selves agiun upon the altar, with their liceir 
buried in the velvet cushions before them; 
when the venerable bishef , assisted bjrother 
priests, ^rformed the most solemn part of 
the service, which consisted of short 'sen-: 
tences and brief responses, in which aB 
seemed to Join with a good deal oi spirit; 
The new sisters then arose and kissed their 
assistant officials, the other attendant nunn, 
their attending chembv, and their femsle 
friends who were within the grate. Up to 
that moment the friends o^the (urM smnp«* 
seemed to be cheerful ; but, now that the 
final separation was come, there was mor^ 
apparent difficulty in concealing the «nio- 
tions which, doubtless, they had aH nkHig^ 
felt ; and I now noticed that the sister of 
one of ihem, who had been remarkably gay^r 
drew back with swimming eyes. The oaiM 
didates, on the contrary, through the whol^ 
soene m^apifest^d little emotion either'^ oii: 
devotion or of excited sensibilities lor friends^ : 
but seemed to pass through the ceremony 
with a, self-possession and firmness that to 
me indicated either deep principle 6i ou^ . 
or the inidifieren^e of disappointment; 

« I wy twistf oIjm; beesQaSk ilthoiish tfaess bed^ 
only tskeo ihm wWt« Teil, «Bd thsrafore may. i^ is . 
preteaded. at their option, come out ct the ei^ oT » 
yMr. Slid; r believe, in most cases, having tak«ti qtt . 
first ttsp, thiy avS-mide wUliiigfiie proceed. ^ ' 




■ vkid splendid) it btfing alnrost 
imj»otiiil)le' tA dmoeife any ttmg mofe pio- 
tovet^pie ttAd gpnuid, than the remainiiig 
ateli€M of tiieiie vtupendoas w«terc«rarfe«^ 
it>«t^hiiig nerosrf the Cmnpaiia fVbm varimi^ 
dlrectl^ast nonW of them, by laoderti repairs, 
■liU rolling their refreshing streams into the 
etefMil^ city. These aqabduets are led from 
th^ distance of twenty and thirty miles, and 
ifeped to convey into the ancient city five 
fattndred thousand hogsheads of water daily, 
altlMHigh at present only about one-fifth of 
Iktft amoant Is brought into the city. The 
tliree aquedoets, designated by JftM Fer* 
gjtUf'Aiftm FeUee, and jh^tm PamUna, afford 
tWprincipal supply to those fountains with 
^thicfa' Home abounds. Aqtm Ferine is so 
cattsd from the springs having been disdosied 
tOMMBa famishinJi^ soldiers by a peasant girl : 
il was brought to Rome by Agrippa, and 
BOW empties itself at the FkmUma ae Trevi^ 
where are diegortcal figares, rocks, cas^ 
cades, and water-sponts ' of great beanty. 
The 'Aput Ptmiina \» from Trajan's aone- 
dttet, and extends the distance of thirty 
mflos^wid is divided into two branches, one 
ol'uHrich similiesthe Mount Janicntum, 
and 8n^tie» itself principally, in copious 
torrentiy onder a spleiidid Ionic colonnade 
of frrd granite* inta n Tast maiiile basim 
Thene is water enough pwired oat here to 
work several mills. The other branch goes 
to, the Vatican, and eaqpends itself in the 
Bwgnificent piazza of St P#ier'a, in two 
fountains, which thiow up the water in. 
foaming colunuis many feet into the air, 
whence it comes down in copious showera. 
The main body of the water falls into magnl- 
£|cent basins of oriental granitef fifty feet in 


(Ay JTmrt. aU m lM catf JtetMoa.) 
ftloa. 14, 1^, and 16, complete the first 
volume of this attractive work, which, in its 
appropriate binding of purple, nMrits place 
in every « fismily library." 

Noi 14 contains two plates of Si Alban's, 
Wood>etree^ one a deverley-drawn interior, 
• wn^od out of 8t Michael's, in the same 
atfevt ; end a woodcut of St Angustin^'s, 
Wnding^tstreet, with the colossal shadow of 
St Paul's in Uie distance. Our extracts from 
tlac Number are : — ] 

Howr-giats at St. Aiban*», 

In a curious brass frame attached to the 
flApity and shown in the engraving, is an 
nour-|flas8, — an appendage which was com- 
Bipn in churches during parts of the six- 
leedHiaad seventeenth centuries, in ordet i» 
TM^nd thd pfeacher of the fiight of time, 
^1 1$ now seldom met with. ^ So eariy as 
9«l4y we tad thia entry in «b old chnidi- 

b«>li, bfioBgi<g4eStyiihiiiBi>a> 
Christ Church, Aldgnte:— <« Pnid for m 
hour»gUsa, that hangeth 1^ the pulpiti when 
the. preacher doth BMdie&ataBon» that he 
may know how the hourpaaseth awagr,*^ 
one shilling ;''.and in the same book, among 
the bequests in 1616, is mentioned *',aa 
hour-glass with . a frame of Irene to stand 
in." At the church of St. Dunstan in the 
West, too, there was a large hour glass in 
a silver frame ; of which latter, when the 
instrument was taken to pieces in 1723, two 
heads were made for the parish stavec. 

Head tfJmmet IV. at St. MiekatTt. 

It is stated by some authors that the heed 
of James IV., King of Scotland, who fell, at* 
was supposed, at the battle o€ <* Floddeii 
Field," fought in the leign of Heniy Vllf., 
was buried here, but this has been warmly 
disputed by others. AoconNng to the gene- 
ratty leoBived account, the body of the king 
was iouad upon Hm field, and was co n veyed 
te the monasteiy of Shaeu, near Richmond^ 
in Sairey, where it remained imtil the DiiMO- 
lution. The aionasteiy was p lun d e w w l «t 
that epdch, and Slow aays, the king% corpi* 
" wrapped in lead " waa placed in e waste 
room amongst old timbev and ether himb«r, 
and that he saw it theta When it Wbs m 
this situattou, seme of the workmen cut off 
the head> and liSUttcelot Youngs master ghii> 
liar to Queen Blisabetb, liking the iw^ 
scent that piuceeded from the medieameiitt 
with which it was embalmed, took it wi^ 
him to his house in Wood-street ; but, be? 
coming careless of po s s e ss in g it, afterwards 
gave It to the senten of the church now 
under considentien, in order that he mi^ 
buiy it The Scotch writers, however, coo* 
tend that James Was not killed et that hattle, 
and that this head, theiefova, coukl net be 
hi% Imt waa that of an indiridual who fought 
during the day in habiliments similar to 
those worn by the fcim;, in order to draw off 
the atlen^ott of the Bnglish from Jaaaes: 
and one writer asserts that the kin^ esc^ea 
to Jemaalem, and died here sometime aAer- 
wavds. Weever, however, is quite positive 
that Sheen was tlie place of James's burial. 

[No. 15 is iniMtmted with a pUte of St 
GKIes'a, CrippUgate, exterior, and a capital 
interior of St« Ounstan'b in die West, Fleet, 
street, the first we remember to have seen of 
this unique structure; also^ n wood-cut of 
St Bene't's, Paul's Wharf.] 

Street* m CripplegaU^ 
The whole neighbourhood offers much 
inteiestini^ matter, hoih to the topogrudiar 
and the historian ; but our purpose and our 
limits, wiU aUow us only to spedc sucdnot^ 
of its nsoie striking points. Jewin-shreel 
was the only place in Sngland, up to the vear 
1177» whaseiB the Jews were allowed to \mtf 
|lMird9ad»iuidiNBnt tint ttmeeidled, im 


THS uivamL 

coiifle(|ueiic«, tlra <*' J«wi' GanliNi." MiHon 
lived m this street, a shoit time previun to 
, |i}g death. W^hitecroBS-ftreet owed ita name 
to a ** whyte cn^e " which stood there; httf* 
, ing betide it a ttone arch, through which 'ran 
a stream of water from Smithfield ; and 
Barbican received its denomination from 
a watch-tower, or barbican, belonging to tho 
trown, that was situated tiiere. The whoh) 
of this parish appears anciently to have been 
a mere fen» or moor, unsound and impassable, 
and wa8, by the labour of the citisens, con- 
verted into gardens for their recreation ; in« 
deed up to even a comparatively recent 
period, part of Moorfield^ now so thickW 
covered with houses, and densely populated, 
was only available for this purpose. 

[St Bene't's, it appears, is the burial-place 
of the the celebrated architect, 

Aiigo Jones,'] 

Hie fiither of Inigo Jones appears to hsrve 
been in indifitsrent circumstances, and ap- 
prenticed his son, when young, to a joiner. 
While wilh his master, however, he displayed 
so much skill as^ drwightsnian, that he at- 
tracted the noHee of Willtam, Earl of P«m. 
biP(^, "and was sent by that Uobtemaa to 
Italy, to improve hia taste and aeqmre kaafwa> 
ledge.* Heie 'be quickly gained so good a 
veputatien, that Chrktken IV., King^oM>!n- 
mark, appoints 4ihn his architect; and 
«dien the steter of that Kinp^ married Jainea 
i. of England, JoMs eaime ntto this coimtry, 
aoid receive an appointtte^t from her. 
Ahotft 1613, he agalti visited Italy, and on 
his fettim, was mad* fkiWeyor General to 
the King; and designed sevel^ buildings 
which were ereieted in London and various 
parts ^ the eountiy. 

in ikt reign of Kiag Henty YITI., the 
pointed styles of asehitoctore decMned in Engi> 
lafid; the 'simplldty and beauty whieh cha- 
ractevised it in its beiC state, had given wi^ 
before a TOdnndtfncy iof ornament heaped 
upon it, through a craving for novelty on the 
pmit of its pro£es8oi«, ^nd want of skill legiti> 
matdy to grattfy the desire. Artifieerft 
eaiMkble of execntii^g Voiles similar to thoM 
with whibh, lip \6 that time, Eiigland had 
been' adorned, began, too, to fail ; and' ^lien, 
IhMiigh^tfa* exertions of trkvetl6rs, ^xamplei 
of Italian mouldings and omametits wereiitti* 
ported, they, bism'g eAsily imitated, were 
«agt^ adapted, &nd= #ere 'used' for some 
time tttdiscviminatety with < lhift< forms ' ul the 
last period of " Gothic " architecture. In 
1566, we find at Gaius College, Cambridge, 
small Roman Doric or Tuscan doliunns ^ and 
at the^ commencement of the seventeenth 

• To show that Iniffo JweavisHed Italy lathsras 
ft stadeut in painting tlian Kicbjtectaro, wifingy .refer 
to a pocket-book of hb Sketdies in tlie posseasibn of 
the Duke of Devonshire, of w)iich Lis Grace has very 
lUwmlly had a few copies* rtmAeiaJiui-ifmilei to ]ire- 
«?nt to his firiends, sm puliUc iusUtutioto. 

century, we see ths five ** mdert," as they are 
termed, (or so many varieties of colomnsy) 
piled one above another on the face of the 
Schools* tower at Oxford ; but previous to the 
time of Inigo Jones, there were no buildings 
designed entirely in accordance with the 
revived principles of Italian architecture; 
nor was there any great improvement observr 
able in the style of domestic buildings in 
London. As among the best known 5 his 
numerous designs, we may mention the 
Banquetting House, Whitehafi, intended to 
form a portion of a magnificent, and most 
extensive palace, designed by hia for King 
James I., but never executed ; a portion of 
Greenwich Hospital; CoIediiU House, in 
Berkshire; the chapel of Lincoln's Inv; 
and St. Paul's Chureh, Covent Gaidtoi^ 
whidi ia mora fciaggtof tkmn beautiftil; imd 
although, (since the investigation of the 
remains of Grecian asehitefeture, fmm which 
arose that of lUime, hat taught ua the vahia 
of simplicity, and the beauty of breadth of 
parts,) we cannot expiess that admicationiloc 
them which they once excited, we mas^ 
nevertheless, extol the ktvantive.powen whi^ 
he possessed, and tha taala whidi gnUed 
them. At that m^mei^ tha ■iniiiwwnti..of 
Gteece. had jka heaii.«xaiBUKd, ttm inted 
were th« temaiiis of Bomc% Smmm macnift^ 
isence so well InMsra then, aa those m tha 
fimRr country aia now, thfough the bbscnn 
of Stuart and Revttti DonaldsM^ WiUnsa^ 
and others. 

In hia admiration of classic art, Jonea 
sometimes aUowed his ju^jgment to sletp; 
as was the case when he affixed to oU Sfe. 
Paul's Cathedral, which was in the pointed 
style of architeetuie, a. Corinthian portieci; 
and again, when he laboured to prove, that 
Stonehenge, on Salisbury Plain, was a Bo* 
man Temple; but for these mistakes, and 
some others, he may readily be pardoned. 

The latter part of his Ufewas much dis- 
turbed, in consequence of the civil dissen- 
sions during the reign of .King Charier ii, 
with whom he was a great favourite. Being 
a Catholic, he was called on to pay a heavy 
fine in 1646, and it is supposed, that. tli# 
mortifications he endured hastened his death, 
which took place in 1651 • He was aboist 
eighty years old when he died. 

[No. 16 comprises plates of St. Vedast*«, 
/osti*T Lane ; , and St. Mary Somersai^ 
Thaiaes-street; and a woodrcut of St. Ni- 
cholas, Fish-street Hill.] 

Sime^ Qijfin at S(, Fed^ti's. 

In a vault ui^der a small burial-graqgnd, 
situated on the north side of the church, is a 
curioua stone coffin, which was discovered ia 
the year 1836, opposite the house, No. VJ^ 
Cb«apside^ when workmen, wera excavating 
ft» a drain. It consists of a bkiek of free- 
sitone, about seven feet kmg, and fitteea 
inchai thick, hollowed ont to rfceiv? fbm 



.^9ilj^ frith a4«)eper linking for tlie head and 
ahoiild«».- It tapers gradually £rom the 
bottom to the top, and both the ends are 
square. When found it contained a skeleton, 
and was covered with a flat stone, which, it 
pieems, was destroyed during the escavations. 
The coflSn itself was much broken. Several 
similar relics were found at the same time, 
and in the same situation; namely, about 
ten or twelve ftiet below the level of the road ; 
but we do not learn that any clue to their 
identification was discovered. 

[This No. contains the title-page and con- 
tents of the volume which it concludes.] 

A Visit TO t*lT6AXRN's ISLAND. 

[Thx following narrative presents very xsecent 
particulars relmve to the state of the above 
interesting island. It is extracted fcom ** The 
ybyage of her Aiajesty*s Ship Actaeon, Cap- 
tain Lor^ W. Russel,** in the Nautical Ma^ 
gazme, No. 8.] 

We made Pitcaim*s Island on the lOthy 
the weather squally, and the wind strong 
from the northward. This, and the follow- 
ing da^, were so squally, and the sea ran so 
very high, that we were nearly bearing up 
for Valpandso, as we could not work to wind- 
ward ; but fortunately on the 12th, the wind 
moderated, and our captain landed. Three 
canues came off to the ship, through a very 
heavy surf. In these were Bdward, John, 
Matthew,^and Arthur Quintal, George Adams, 
and Charles Chrii^tian. Edward Quintal 
brought a note from Mr. Hill, which he de- 
liver^ in due form. Mr. Hill was the man 
fliat had imposed upon the simple natives, 
by making them believe he was sent out by 
the English government to take charge of 
f hem, and look after their morals. They, ne- 
ver being accustomed to any deceits of this 
kind, placed implicit reliance in all he said. 
The consequence was that he became their 
rnler, and at length acquired such power 
•ver them, that he could make them do any- 
^ng he wished ; although latterly they 
obeyed him more from fear than any admira- 
tion of his good qualities. We had heard of 
this man at Valparaiso, and consequently 
. 'Were very much prejudiced against him, and) 
is it turned out, most deservedly so. Mr. 
Bolfett, whom Captain Beechey speaks of in 
lOM work, and to whom he gives an excellent 
character, was a passenger with us from Val- 
paraiso. He had been long resident at Pit- 
cairn's Island a> a schoolmaster, and was 
touch liked ; but having a numerous family, 
was obliged to discontinue his services. This 
Riati was flog|{ed by Edward Quintal, (Mr. 
CtiU's right'liand man,) at his suggestion, 
fbr aome trivial reason, and in consequence 
waa obliged to leave, his wife and fainily r»> 
ttiaiaing behind. His lifb even was consi- 

dered uuMfe. Things werb in this static 
wlien we arrived, bringing back Mr. BnBtit 
from his place of enle. We were lieartil^ 
welcomed by all the island. 

The inhabitattts amount to ninety- two, the 
greater proportion of them being Quintals. 
Lord Edward RuMell Unded on the 19th ; 
and having assembled all the people to hekr 
the diiierent causes of complaint, gave judg- 
aient against Mr. Hill, telling the natives 
who he was, and that he had no longer any 
power ever them *, also g^ng him to uiuh^r- 
stand that he must leave iho iskind by^e 
first opportunity. Mr. Bnflfett was kindly re^ 
ceived by his old friends* and found his fal- 
mily and children well. Mr. Hobbs, another 
Englishman, was dected schoolmaster, by th^ 
general voice. 

Bounty Bay, so called from the place where 
the mutineers landed, and where the Bounty 
Was destroyed, is where ships lay off and 
communicate with the shore. Canoes came 
off with stock and refreshments, it being im- 
possible for boats to bring such things with* 
otit much danger. The pmduetions are cocoa- 
nuts, bananas, sweet potatoes, and yams, 
which are cultivated by the inhabitants, and 
of a superior qimlity ; also water melons, and 
excellent tobacco. Wild goats and poultry 
are plentiful, and the island is covered with 
verdure. They are obtiged to work veiy hard 
at their yam bods, at certain seasons of the 
year, and, in consequence, are a strong, hardy 
race, well made, tall, and active, and very 
exp«i in the management -of their canoes. 
The women are handsome^ and above the 
common height, particularly strong and nim^ 
ble. Their houses are well built, clean, and 
comfortable ; and, in every respect, this littte 
eommunity cannot but claim the admiration 
of every impartial and unprejudiced person, 
who, taking into consideration their fathers' 
crimes, womd otherwise locAupon them with 
no very &vourable eye. We brought for thet^ 
use a great quantity of kettles, fishing lines, 
and hooks, knives and forks, and clothing, 
all of which they were much in want of. 

All the mutineers of the Bounty are dead. 
John Adams, the last survWor, died about 
five yeais ago. The wives of Christian and 
Adams alone remain out of the first genera^ 
tion. They are natives of Tahiti, and very 
old, being nearly eighty-seven^ but still strong 
and active, which proves the sahibrity of the 
climate. Mrs. Christian recollects Captaiik 
Cook in his first voyage, and ^owed a veiy 
great respect for him. There were severiid 
small remnants of ^e Bounty left,- such as 
pieces of copper, and some parts of the di& 
ferent bulk-heads, also the keys of her store- 
rooms ; all of which were eagerly seized, and, 
as may be imagined, prised veiy much. We 
were astonished at the intelligence and ^ido* 
ness of the reply to any question We put to 
most of these people. Ihey went through 



Hie koi^ of SaplMMl without a laitfalDe; 
kmw perfecHj well all tlw raigninic monarcfat 
M^^ ICniopey aod leading men of our own 
coantfy> which nude them doubly iotevetting 
to ui. To fM a lace of mta, mhabitanti of 
one of ^ South Sea Iilaadib qicaking our 
own langueite^ and ii^owing our cuftonM, 
could not nul to interest ua all ; and, when 
we see they .h»ve been brought up in every- 
thing ^bft^ 1* fgboA.attA propec, that at yet no 
immpraUty hq^ Ciefit 4n among them, and 
etery.ein .it nbhorred, and they continue to 
live in'aUliampUcity and truth, we aie, at 
oiiqe, diaarmed of every ill* feeling arising 
fnta a reflection on the manner in whidi 
they came thiSier, and. forget the crimes of 
their fatheie. No doubt appears to remain 
thatTitcairn's Island was inhabited a consir 
derable time previous to the arrival of-^he 
Bounty. Stone hatchets^ and other imple* 
nents of war, have been found buried in the 
eoUValso t^e remains of several inorai% or 
burial places. This proves that people .of 
soma 4escription^ once lived th«r<t, and were 
either driven away, or ^left it for some mom 
convenient spot. 

I>y*pepna. — The. effect ol mental tUs- 
quieUfde in producing this prevalent com* 
plaint is far greater than is generally sup- 
posed. It is well known, that persons in 
goodiiealth> of sound digestive organs, who 
tal(e ^enty of eserciae, and are free from 
iuud^/j mPkve^ almost anything, and in 
quantifies whidiWMMM.kiU those in differont 
ttrcumstance^. In reierence to this point, 
i>r. Bri^ham observes^*' We do not find 
^yfptpsia. prevalent in countries where the 
pewle dp eat most enormously. Trnvellers 
m Siberia say, that the peupb there often 
eat fof^ pONAdi lOf fowd in one day. Admi** 
val j^ripdioff saw a Siberian eat, immedi* 
aiely aXx^x breakfisst, twenty>five pounds of 
boitod rice, with three pounds oi butter.--- 
But dyspepsia is not a common dixease in 
Siberia. We do not learn from Captain 
Pany or Captain Lyon, that their friends the 
^uim«M( are veiy nervous and dyspeptic, 
though tluaiy individually eat ten or twelve 
Doiinds of solid &od in a day, washing it 
Sewn with a gallon or so of train-oiL Cap* 
lain Lvon jv^ to be sure, a little concerned 
lor « di'ljwfe young lady Ksquimaux, who 
«te her ^pMes, wicks and all ; yet he does 
not allu# le her inability to digest them.** 

H iaailflib<d of the Emperor Kaoii-Tsoo, 
thai he was in the habit of saying: — ^The 
wwearfh depends on the nation at laige ; the 
■ition depends on the labouring clasKOs. 
v^ extOftmNP the people, in oider to present 
le t||e monarch, is like cutting flefeh from 
one'a body to fiU the atomach : the stomach 
fl^y be filled, but the beefy wUl die; the 

■lonaich m*y be emiched, bed the emmtiy 
win perish. I always consider the matter 
thott, and diie not indulge myaeK 

The suhWiied description of a new reap- 
ing^nachine, invented by Mr. tt. Baldwin, 
AmMO, Dumfriea-shire, appeared a short 
time since in a Scotch newspaper. This 
machine is totally different from those h^- 
ly-ingeniouB implements, invented by Mr. 
Bell and Mr. Smith, of Deanston. In ope- 
ration, it combines the clipping with the 
cutting principle. The cutters aie attached 
\o a revolving cylindrical drum^ from whi^ . 
they are exerted on the inner side, together 
with ttie rake for carrying round the cut 
com, from wheiice they move round towaide 
the exterior of the standing com; w^en, af- 
ter having performed tKe work allotted to 
them in each revdlution, ' they are again 
withdrawn to the inside. oT the cyKiider, few 
the purpose of facilitatiiig the laying dbwn 
of the grain in a reguUur manner, a^ iti 
being shiq[wned by a sttea^ api)endt4l for 
that purpose. It also, possessea the advan- 
tage, never hitherto obtained, of being equally 
applicable to staiidiog as well as lying eom ; 
and can be worked on the most irregukr 
surface, in cona^nence of a regulatings 
wheel preceding the cniter. It is caktilaltfl 
to cut ten acres a day, with thcS assistauAj ol 
a man and a horse. W. G. C. 

American Stimmer FasJkions..'— A slight 
squint over the left eye ; thf right hand in 
the bosom; the thumb and fore-finger . 
lightly touching the watch-gi^ard. 

The hat should stand upon five hairs ; a 
corner of a silk handkerchief just showing^ 
itself at the left temple. The whiskm 
should be long, and ear-locks descending 
half way down the face. 

A light cane may he carried under the 
iirm, which should be dexterously twirled, 
however, whenever you meet a dan. In 
such cases, the eyes should be stedfaetly 
fixed on the clouds, and the step be brisk 
and hurried. , 

On meeting a lady, the upper lip should 
be gently curled ; and if you have mmdsome, 
teeth, be suddenly struck wi*h a comical 
idea, which creiltes a broad smile. 

If you see a poor acquaintance, stoop to 
brush the dust off your trousers' leg, or 
pause a moment to look at a picture, ifai^ 
such be near. He will pass by, as a mat- 
ter of course. 

Carry a pocket full of pumice alwaya 
wiUi yon, to fling into the eyes of the tai- 
lors' boys, if there is no other way to get 
clear ot them.-*-^^l0fi PemrL 

LONDON: Primmed andpmhliskedhy J, lIUBiM^ 
143. StrmtH. (nmr Somentt Hmue) ; amt aaU % 
aU H4Htk$t!lltir% and S'em^mw -^Ji§ni At fjtttl^» 
a, W. M, REYNOLDS, f'rmoh, fyi^iak, ni j§mm 
rieati pbraru.i^ Rme Nmntt St. j4«[|pMt«%r-ia 

Cj^e Mirror 


No. 909.] 


[Pniec 9^. 


His lieaft was ISnnB*d for softiii>M— warp*d to wrong ; 
Ba4ny*d t^o eitrly, and bega'iTd too loag ; 
ihch foAhtm imw* m fiUU thndroppiug dew 
Willwi the 4prvti Pkv tlwt feid hsrdeu'd too ; 
Le» clear, mrehanefs iteemifaly trials pnss'd. 
But swikr aiMi ekin*d. aad petrifid at last. 

Tbc Corsair. 

L«ST " "Deony'i effttcing finger" should 
too ioon obltti>mte the birthp4iice of one 
'eodettred to bin oobntiy by mate thim «om- 
moo tie«9 we thi^ week preset the reader 
with tke above credited engraving 

Ftfly^three yearn have passed away idnee 
ifennr drewhw iirDt breath in thehambte 
fUremng here represented : — ^The room over 
the batcher'^ sbofi of ^* Mee," to the left of 
the sign *' Coach and Uort^s,** wa9 the one 
then occupied by the Poet^s fatherrand where 
the young aspirant after fame struggled into 
life. There are dear associations at all 
timet to bind us to the birthplace or con- 
nexions of genios, and here materiais for 
contemplaAion plentifully abound. 

White, according to Southey, was the mmi 
of a botcher, and was born On the SIst of 
Marefi, 1785. At a very youthful age his 
rising facultiai developed themselves; he 
wa« pre<Heted by his earljr schooUmistress 
to Inhetit all the traits of disposition neces- 
sary (or emin^ee and renown,- which in 
after-years were found not wrongly calcu- 

Vol. xxxii, K 

lated. Hi:< lines on <' ChiMhood" thus al- 
lude to hi« first kind preceptor : — 

Oh 1 had the Tvnerable matroa thought 
Of all the ills by tilent often brought ; 
Could she have teen me when retoivint; years 
Had brought a^ deeper in the vnle of lean; 
Then hail she wept, uatd wisbM my wayward (kte 
Hnd been a 1 iwtier, an auletter'd ttale ; 
Winh'd tliat. remote flruns worbliy wues aiid strifii, . 
Unknown, unlieanl, 1 might faavo pass*d thro* >ife. 

Genius is but too often.allied io mis£t>rtuQe; 
arid it would appear from general observa- 
tion, that what fortune so ill supplies in a 
pecuniary point of view, in the lofty in- 
spirations of thought she oftenttosea af- 
fords an ample remuneration. 

This gifted, virtuous youth, continue^ £9^ 
a time his unremitted studies ; tiUnajture, at 
last, wearied and exhaust^, yielded hit spi- 
rit to him who gave it, on the 19th of Qct, 
1806: thus fnlfilKng the truth of a known 
adage, that 

" Heaven's belovM die early.'* 

Whether the short life of this young an^ 
aastahle man be held tm an example to the 
rising yoii^ of our tmtion, or shown to the 
more woaried tfuvdler in life's fridl socm^ 
the same nigral is alike applicnble. To the 
one, the propelling hand of pendeverance 
points to ambilion and honour ; to the other. 



meekness and submission under«ll afflictions. 
Byron did not eulogize undeservedly the cha- 
rncter of the poet ; — his countrymen vet for- 
get not the charms of his soothing lyre ; — 
and Britain mourns the departure of her 

A brief sketch of his life, and a glance at 
the material poem^ of White, have already 
appeared by a talented Correspondent ; • and 
having, on the banks of the Humber, more 
than once reclined beneath his favourite 
treejf and having, still more recently, wan- 
dered with him over the fairy regions of his 
youthful romance, we now close our remi- 
ni:jcence with his birthplace ; consecrated 
as it is by ties of no ordinary nature, and 
endeared to us by reflections which will never 
be forgotten. W, Andrew. 


" And they came to Elim, where were twelve 

wells of water, ond threeficore aud ten palm-trees, 
and they encamped by the waters.** —J^jrodiw, chap. 
16t verse 27. 

Majestig Palm I towering on Lebanon. 

Oil Sinars hallow'd mount abiding ^till. 
And beautiful as when upon tliee shoue 

The lightening gleam that marked the sacred lulU 

Tiiy graceful branches fall o*er lonely streamy 

Far in tlie sunny vales of Palestine. 
"Where one of Judah's race, in musing dream. 

Perchance recalls the glories of bis line : 
Ouce mure the temple's splcudours round him'shine,] 

Aud kings, and gifted seers, nud priests, ai;ain 

On sad rememberance rise, a sluidowy train 1 

All h(dy thoughts and memories dwelt with thee, 
Wlien Angels veird awhile their lustre lafar. 

And sat beueath thy shade, fair eastern tree 1 
In mercy visiting a world of care ;-— 

Oh 1 who may tell tlie awe aud reverence there. 
Felt by tlie sacred few. before whose si^ht 
Olestial gue&ts appear'd in radiauee briglit 1 

Bciii'le the water*s brim, so lone and deep. 
In the wild desert's heart, high mlm-tiees rose ; 

On tlie |)arcli'd ground their graceful sliadows sleep. 
And there tlte heaven-ditected liust re^iose. 

Beside the fountaius cool their camels stray. 

And silence reigns throughout the sultry day. 

Enchanted land I in far off elder days, 
A light divine did on thy deserts i^leam ; 

Now, o'er thy IhlLen pride, the pilgrim strays. 
To gaze and weep by Jordan's hallowed stream. 

To sit beneath tlie Palm-Tiee, spreading fkir. 

To muse on wliat has been, — what now is tiiere ! 

Anne R — 

Time made thee what thou wast — ^king of the woods. 

And time hatli made thee what tliou art — a cave 

F.jr owls to roost in I thou hast ontiiv'd 

Thy popularity, and art become, 

(Unless verse rescue thee a wliile,) a thing 

Forgotten as the foliage of thy youtli I 


SiTTiNO one evening with a learned Miss, 
We soon began to talk of learned things ; 
Not frills or flowers, rigmarule or rin};s. 

But fountains full of intellectual bliss. 

Thus, in high converse, from some distant plaee 

There came a strain of music, soft and cle^; 
I saw a flash of pleasure light her tkee. 

And whisper'd poesy in her willing ear. 
She smil'd, aud asked me who composed the lines — 

Wliere they were from ? She thought them ei£^ 

And more expressive than the song of birds, 
Wtien earth, with lovely spring>flowers is besprent. 

I answer'd Milton. She said, " Yee, I know it ; 
Pve read his worlu—vneommom pretty poet P' 


Tbox; «viist a bauble once ; a cup aud baU, 
Which babes might play with ; and the thievish jay,*^ 
Seekiuff her food, with ease might have purloiu'd ' 
Tlie auburn nut that held thee, swallowing down 
Thy , yet close-folded latitude of bouglis. 
And till thine embryo va«tness, at a gul|). 
But fsdth thy growth decreed ; autumual rains. 
Beneath thy parent-tree mellow'd the soil. 
Designed thy cradle, aud a skipping deer. 
With pointed hoof dibbling the glebe, prepared 
Tlie soft receptacle, in wh^h, secure. 
Thy rudiments should sleep the winter througli. 

* Anne R., see Mim»r» vol. xxix., pp. 3, 4 ; see 
also, vol. vi., pp. 298, 306. 

t For an eugraving and description of which, see 
Vol. xxvii. and xxviii,, pp. 161,— 3 19. 

C^e i^aturalti^t. 

. BOTANY. — II. 

Ceils of Plants. 
The moBt simple form of a vegetable is a 
mere vesicle. The green mould which forms 
on damp walls is an aggregation of these 
vesicles, and is supposed to consist of aa in- 
finite number of perfect vegetablt?s. l?he 
crimson snow, which has been observed- in 
the Arctic regions, is also considered to owe 
its colour to minute vegetables. The fol- 
lowing extract from the narrative of Cap- 
tain Ross's first voyage, gives an interesting 
account of this remarkable phenomenon:^ 
"On the 17lh of August, (1818,) it was 
discovered that the snow on the face of the 
cliffs presented an iippearance both novel 
and interesting ; being apparently stained 
or covered by some substance, which gave 
it a deep crimson colour. Many conjectures 
were formed respecting the cause of this 
phenomenon ; and a party was despatched 
from the ship, to bring off some of the snow. 
It was found to be penetrated (in many 
places to the depth of ten or twelve feet) by 
the colouring matter, and h^d the appear- 
ance of having been a long time, in that 
state. On bemg brought on board, the 
snow was examined by a microscope, mag- 
nifying a hundred times ; and the substance 
appeared to consist of particles, resembling 
a very minute round seed ; all of them being 
of the same size, and of a deep red colour- 
On being dissolved in water, the latter had 
the appearance of muddy port- wine ; aud 
in a lew hours it deposited a sediment, 
which was again examined by the micro- 
scope ; and, on being bruised, was found to 
be composed entirely of red matter, w^ich 
(when applied lo paper) produced a coUfur 



resembling IndtMi red.^ li wis the' opkiioD 
of I>r. WoiltMton, (who w»j censiitecl when 
the ehip^ returaed to England,) that this 
^aa not a marine production, but a vegeta* 
Ue sabstaoce, prodtuied in the mofmtain 
immediately above*'' The voyagers soon 
afterwards encountered some red ice; but 
it was fonnd to owe its ccriour to red paint, 
seriiped off the bows of the ship. 

Probably every part of a plant, when first 
fomi«dris a eell, and the great bulk of many 
plants is composed of cells ; passages being 
left between them for the sap. Originally 
thei«c cells are of a ronnd form, but they 
g^iierally acqmre a hexagonal shape from 
presenre ; Uke the eeUs in a bee-hive, and 
probably from the same cause. To illus- 
trate this, we ttiay mention, that if a batch 
of Hut, round cakes be put intd an oven, 
during the expansion caused by baking 
they win assume a hexagonal form. The 
p«lp of ail fruits lies in c^, which, in this 
onae, are generally of a round or of an el^ 
lipticul form. They are seen well in the 
orange. Cells are .sometimes of a cylin* 
drical form ; their length being greater than 
their diameter. 

fessels tf Plants, 

1. Lymphatic Feasels, — These vessels 
ate long, hollow tubes ; often, but not al- 
ways, too small to be discerned by the naked 
eye. They are well seen in an old oak or 
elm,; and in mahogany, appear like black 
dots. They rim from the root to the end 
oi" the branches. In very old wood, these 
vessels are sometimes found filled up. — 
Their office is to transmit water, which 
wte called by the ancients lymph; for they 
nusiook it for a fluid havmg peculiar pro- 
perties. They are sometimes called com- 
moh vessel^. 

2. Spiral Vessels. —These vessels are 
called by some tracheae^ or air-tubes ; the 
•* wfnd-pip^ '* of animals (which conveys 
mr into the lungs) being called the tracheae. 
They are supposed by many to carry air ; 
but therr real use is not known. They are 
not sap-vessels, as .I>r. Darwin thought 
they were ; for they are never found in the 
root, and are idways dry. M. Dutrochet 
(a celebrated continental botanist) is of opi- 
ntori that they convey to the leaves an ethe- 
rial fluid, which is coagufable by nitric 
acid, and serves the same f>urpose as oxygen 
dpes in animals— ministering to respiration. 
They go to alj' parts of the leaves, and even 
to the seeds : they resemble a flat thread, 
rolled into a spiral Ibrm ; and may be seen 
in the stem of a tulip, if we break it cau- 
tiously, and draw the fractured ends gently 
across. Dixtrochet thinks that the spiral 
turns of the thread (which is itself hollow) 
are cio^nected by a membrane, so as to make 
a Uirfet bbfe, fofrrted by the convolutions of 
thie limalter dbe*. 


3; Proper Vessels.- These are also eatled 
renaming vessels, because they retam tiie 
sap, after it hab undergone the ]Mro||er 
change in the leaves. They take their rise 
from the back of the latter, and extend 
through all the plant Sometimes they end 
in blind extremities, or sclcs* Jf the bark 
be cut across, tliese vessels pour out a whito 
fluid. DecandoUe (another eminent cooti- 
nenttil botanist) catt^ them repositories. It 
is in these vessels (in those plants whieh 
yield it) that camphor is found ; for that 
well-known substance is at firrt in a fluid 
state, and becomes solid from exposure to 
the air. 

Plants of the lowest class (called (kypfO' 
gOMia) have no vessels at all, but consist 
entirely of cells. Lately, however, vessela 
have been found in some ot the ferns, which 
belong to the class in question. When a 
tree is bored or tapped, it is from its vessels 
that fluid issues. It is thus that the birch 
is tapped, and wine is made from the fluid 
which is poured out ; and, in the same way, 
sugar is obtained from the sap of the maple- 
tree. In the tropics there is a remarkable 
tree, which supplies the natives witli drink, 
when no rain fitlls for months^ 
Bark of Plants. 

The bark is the part in which the medi- 
cal virtues of plants generally reside; as is 
the case with cinnamon-bark, cinchona-, 
bark, <&c. The desiigu of their containing 
the bitter principle in the 6ne case, and the 
odoriferous principle in the other, is pro- 
bably to defend the plant from insects. The 
bark of plants often contains gallic acid and 
taunin. The willow and the walnut yield 
the latter abundantly, and the pUmts which 
grow in bogs contain mUch of it- This it 
is which is said to give to bogs their anti- 
septic properties, by which men have been 
preserved in them for centuries. A few 
years ago, there was found in one of the 
bogs in Ireland the body of a man, who, 
from the hide in which he was enveloped, 
was considered to have been one of the an- 
cient inhabitants of the island. We are not 
sure, however, that the antiseptic properties 
of bogs are owing to taunin ; for some bogs 
do not yield it. 3t. Pierre informs us, that, 
in some countries, fallen trees are found, 
havmg all their wood decayed, but with the 
bark retaining its shape. Mrs. Trollope 
seems to have met with a tree of this kind, 
in her pic-nic in the American forest. In 
submarine forests, the bark is the only part 
of the trees which remains perfect. 

There is a great quantity of mucilage in 
the bark of young trees, by which the latter 
are nourished. Bairk for medical use, or 
the put'poses of the arts, should be taken in 
autumn or winter; for its peculiar princi- 
ples are absorbed into the wood, if .left till, 
spring'. In northern countries, the bafk ot 




m»d uied^«ti# nUMt^tDlft for J^ut. tThmkmk 

Ai» MtePfML by pnddWi: SeoM. ti«tti,«if 
thi pkwMraBr«|d>hft^retiie) aiCKfiMf isM 

ti^ «|>|K>ftimit]r of lec^mnMiiiiiffv i» thOM 
ffho wiBK4o §^y i\m l«#w (l»p«rtnM«ti ci 

«fJlibMr/' Wl^^vsl tlMt^HBontoMrytetlM 


f aiA, cUooAt^ o' Novii .Scotia io9f im 4o 
•Itnnpae^j i)t,haptth«^h0^e8|^,l^nd ||ia«9lde«t 
<W i» Jtjlevfr ifwd* I thiOl iMfeWr Jijrgel 

OMW fwy n^ fir^xia! ^ 4^tli^ Th0 v^tyt, 
mvj^i pf t)w|t*ijgM wiUcopl me the hotlwt 
^ayui ^^ivnm#|!W |t wi» aMt th« 1att«f ^wd 
**,W*«^'y> HA % a«j jpy ineiQ(9jry jmreg upci^ 
J ipame diowo hep^Ao promt omr .#iq 1^ ti^ 
^J'olin, and it jp^ 4:(««ideiabl9 nftfr d«^ 
l|gl|jt 4om when J arnved. It jras^ the 
l^st yiQlei^ sl^pipeo^ iwr«^th«r, *nd th# «oM, 
^u4 ««»W« I thiakj X^ver oMud Msin' mm^. 

Says Mann Bate to noi Mr. SKck, m^ 
i|fi»4 ^oq'tr k^ow what onder the aun I*m 
a^^* to do wit^ yoU) or how I shall bt able 
to Moojiim4)date your for ihevt'e a whole «Aft 
of folks from ^altiax. hera, and a bat«h of 
nobose-huiiting officers, and I don't icd«hi. 
who aUi apd the hoose is chock full, . I. 
declafau Well^jBays I, Vm no wajrs paiti- 
kUar— 'J cm. put up with inoKt anything. 
Ill gist lake a atretcb heie, afore the iire on 
tl^. floor ;-7for, I'm e*«n almost 
death, and aw/wl sleepy too ; fiiet oqpe, s^a 
I„fifs| sarved,Hy4«* taiow'a an old rule, and 
lucVs the won) now«a4ay«. Ves» I'll gjit 
takts.the hearth-ni|; ior it, and a good warm 
birth it is too. Well, sayi she, I cai»t think 
o'.that at no rate : tfaeie's okl Bfrs. Fairns 
in, the next street but one ; die's got a spaM 
be4«hevIetsou^ IMmetiaes: I'll send up to 
her to Ket it ready for yon, and tinnorrow 
these folks will be off; and then you can h»w 
your old: qiuarters again. 

So alter iHipper, old Johnny Faiq|ttharv the 
English hei^ ahowed me up to the widdet's. 

Msoiaea^'tadar Md -mftl^ ft ae sant ^jmt. abe 
ha4,^». dartMT^ imfM^UmtufgtXbli^mn seed 
«Mic«^l4wai^«Mated«- Thetu wm aowietiitB* 
^rUMtherHalMMt thee that «iad€ a boif IM 
m m figMfnifm. tnha itm^-m Wi^j^oolang 
iwit^r^bi^ bev%fii0|i|ileft«il«e- wae> aadf aba 
9iaa taU and we^ina^i h a djbe e n fifal^aalBn' 
kmg^bM^ Ji8^^aiidel(lack>^)f««;Hkui^ obi 
iM)mHfBle^4ie i i> » j k - o pdi^^rir colour aha 
M»ywt^^ltl»'%imliJMo^ifai'sJeil afamit 

vm^vm ^iakem»^Mkifa$t9 bttiUe.likBi 
fnAt^^JirhaitemW] itfdVMbmMluc^ Or oe*. 
Ot^tdeilMrtiQnyfiOrxiScfttiB^ nm .*t|be 

be^kKdi.^ yet fiMlia^^t4iUe^''a«ay one 
n^ineltbwt wasfuUffiMnad^idwttllwaistad; 
l,:eauWa'lke«p^ffyeif«ff«€lMr.n £«!ltB 
kind V^ttteiest im hit; .Xoiimedraa if V^ 
Uke to heav hmf^mtmj^ for. aotoottmi* oir an. 
o<^er.bad i|onemiMig«^*lhai>was4k#^ mbo 
liUleetoiy ofrthe bear^ «oat lika» te'^Dag 
jeaUe are plagur Apinto base a tebdar spa( 
tbeneabflutei A^ memt tmWrih and- wbM' 
«he;loalied oii».ine» AOileak^d a^fitteaked^ 
and^o limi,imdco^ Witbalf it ^made^■B• 
kiadlsr iup4»attlloiiii Her ffoice^ loo, w«s>ao 
sweet, and yet so doleful, that I kit pnfw 
Sony, and amectn'^omioiM 4eO| tbinka I, 
0l.giat a» toTaseripw aU aSbo^ bee, ft^ folka 
have iwetl^ cute ean in .Aanapbliai^ tbeiw 
ak't aamaek of a kiss tbat ^n't b«Brd afl 
oypt town tint -two tWas^aadaometibieatb^ 
tl^«)it beae !«m even aleie tbey happen. , 
Itli a'Aieat a gcaodL plieeJDr newv'^lika all 
olhen email pteMs I ever«s^ WjelM^^ed 
i^Jnm! aod faitay alariesi andevaiy imd o' . 
thing tomisea ]ad;bu|ilLawddft't:dttf .^ba 
talked v4 Itstemd and lebaited Awi^ tm if 
there was notMn* abofe partikiler ; but stiQ 
noamile:; berfaoe was «dd and. dear aad 
bright as the i^ surietfoof a bikeiaad ao 
transparent tea, yo« coidd see tha mhm in it. 
After a while, Ihe^ld ledy sbotwadwiO^lD mf 
chentbei, and there waaa fire in tt^ bu^ oh I 
niy sake'% bow cold ; it wae like gaia^ down 
into a wdl in smsmer^it nude nqr blood 
fairly thicken agin. Your tumbler it. oily 
squire; ttf a littta mora of tbat bmanadai. 
that iced Waters ia graad^ Welly I aei^tari 
the firaa spacer and gaftberodwp the little.'^ 
bits o' t»enda and ktndiin' «(ao^ (tetW^ 
iQge were green, and wolddlit borw wpat mm^ 
rate;) and thea I ondieised and nUde^ a». 
deeper^ jump right iniD the eoid hed^^ «ilhr>'^ 
only baULcbtbes enough on it fiw siKh^.iM»»^ 
ther, and wrapped up aH Mie ckilheaKiiiiiiit«^ 
me. Wfdl, I thought I ahooM bat^ dMi^^ 
The ffost was in the sheeta,— and nqr bseath 
kMiked like the^eam from a hoilin' laa4att]o» . 
and it settled right down on the taaAk^aMi:^ 
froae into white boar. The naib in tbdMaatcp 
ciaeked like a gun mth a wet wwd|-» 
went off like tiiuader, and, now an#K 



yw^A liearVoaMfmt ton atobg i^wr m> fM, 
M if he cottidii't iKow hb o<Me to it for-oiMl 
ttdtkit, and th« ittow emckin* and ciumpliii' 
QBder hi* fc^, like a new «hoe with a: stiff 
aoiii tft it. TlM» fire Wouidu't blaie IM» kntgtt, 
and oolf |^v« «p a Mue tmolw, and tlie gUMa 
ia the window Mkitd atl fiikzy with the fi-Mt. 
muks I, I'il fWMf«6 h> dMih to a tartninty. 
If I go lor tOfk(^«>ffaiili^, an sttiea&fbe 
world i*U fief«r waka^Op a^io. Tve heerin* 
toB of Mks aHm now fteThi* desy tikn^ out ia 
Iho cold, a«d Utyin'^down to titep, and goin* 
for ityabd I doif^ half Kke t<rttv H^I vowi 
l^eU, I got «onstd«nibl» mamm sk^, otid I 
kel^ mwAo near about Idl night, ^rembliii^ 
•ttd dudttft^^like agti6. My teOfh ikiriy ehat^ 
tared «g*invftfct i> vnbAied one foot ag^n 
aaofthery^heik^ I doidihi^ up all on a b«iip^ 
and then tubbedtmH^ otef with my hand*. 
Qk ! it wat -dimaiil/ you may di^nd ;-^*af 
laat i brgttn to- dod $»A doae, and hsucf-l 
amM^ a^bck o^^(»ep a taklnVa aplit for it^ 
iparji waB^aad tiled to^oovnt Vm^oeo by ofM| 
aiu^ couldn't $ and tifen I'd «ta«t upland 
tlwte«nOd^g?tB. I fUt k aeOmitt^ aU tfVOr/ 
iif jfitKof^Of^^oald-^f and> thinlits I, If 
aiw't.*or«v*rUiitii/'lodg! to'day'^ght nowf 
I^ viiy it any^tenr-^l^l bo^dbmed if I dbo*t 

and lookb at me, ttood §m a ipaea withaat 
itifiin^ and then she cried bitteily. H^ 
too, is doomed, said she ; ho is in the sleep 
of death, and so far firom home, and all hia 

'f Jottridrl^Nit niT!^^> and mado up my 
iniiid for a nap^ ^ Wnr a lew mean attd a 
sdbf wett, i^nts ttp:and listens, bUtaH Was^ 
rftenft a^a Notl^ ' but them etamal t^M» 
agoin^ off, one aHler t'other, Uke ai^ thing. 
Thinks 1 to mysetf, the wind^ a geftin* up, 
lostknate J it's as like as not we idiaU have 
a change u^ wendier. Presently I heeid a 
liriit st^ on the entry, and the door opens 
s^ly, and in walks the widder's darter on tip 
foe, Pressed in a long white wrapper; and 
al^ peerin' all round to see if I was asleep 
ahe goes and sits down in the chimbly comer, 
and pidcs up the'coa^ and fixes the fire, and 
aita akiekin? at it for efor ao long. Oh! so 
aad^ and ^o melancboly ; it waa dreadful to 
soo h0r« Saya ly to myself says I^ what on 
airtk %rings tbo poor critter here, all alone, 
thia tlmo^o* Bight; and ^le air so pli^y 
cold, too. .1 guess, the thinks I^ frtieze to 
deaUr; or,peAaps, she's walfcin' in her rieep. 
Bntftbeto skosot kleian' niofo like a ghost 
thd^ a hlin|anyi***first she w«rmed one foot 
aadftiMn tbb other ) and theniield her hands 
ovsr^tii^ceala aiid tnoaned bittefriy. Dear I 
daar^( tUnks J, tlntl poor criltir is a freesin* 
tOT'JaatlkOto well :«is mo; I do belieio^ the 
woild im ft^condn* to> sch eend Tight oi^ and 
wib^olMUMdl dio! of cold, and I ^tveied all 
OfHtr^'^ P w ste ntly the got up^ ond I saw her 
facja^pott ^coYteed, with her long \Aack hair, 
and tfaa other |)aita so whfte- and so cold, it 
cljHad tno, to Ibok at it, and her footsteps I 
rn— nittd soohded louder, and I cast my eyea 

tt«0'te feet,and J aetiUy did fohcy^ they 
[ffftee. Well, die come near tho bed, 

frftsnde, too. Not yet, said I, you dear cfitH 
tou,iiot yety you may depend ;~-biit yeo witt 
tie, if you dont go to bed ;— 4o says I, do, isr 
gvadouif sake, return to your room, or yen 
will perish, it's fiosea, saya ahe; Wm 
deathycoM; the bed is a anew WMotii, and 
the pillow is ice, aod the <ceferlid la ooo« 
gvided; thechifi has stroek into nqrlwkrt, 
and my Mood 1MB eeasbd to low. 1^ 
doomed, Fm doomed to die; andoh! hOW 
strange, how eokTis deatk! Well, IwaaaU 
struck cq> of nrheap; I didnt know whot on 
aiith to do; saya I to myself, tava I« liei»V 


poor gaH in my rsbm eamfof^n 4lfco 
i^ distnf6t«d msri in the middle of the 
ni^t hekof she's oaehsy in her Mind, and it 
swattdtt* as sure ai tko ivoild, and how it's 
acoitt^ to oend^ I don't knowr-^hofa a Ihet 
luitey,OBys I, dear, I'll got u^ and giro yois 
my bed if you are cold, and I'll go and mako 
up a great rousin' big'-fire, and I'll call up 
the old lady, aud phe will see to^0|% and gA 
you a hot drink : somethin' must be done, to, 
aeai<ttinty, for^ I con t bear to hear you tdk 
sis: No, says she, not fo^ the wprla ; what' 
Win ti^y mother say, Mr. Slick f itod me hero 
in your rOoni, and noifhhi* biit tins wr^per 
00 ; it's too kite nOw; it^ aB or^ j; and, 
with that she iiunted, and ^ right' acroso 
the b^. Oh> bow cold she was! the diill 
struck into me; I fod it yOt ; tbe ver]r 
thoughts is enough to g^te one the agueT 
WeQ, i'nl a modest man, squire; I was 
idwap modest from a boyi-4>ut theie was 
no tmte for ceremonf n<rr, for t|bere was a 
si^Rnin', djnn^ ciltte)M-so I tirew W in, and 
folded her in my arms, in hopes she would 
come t6, but death wii tiiere. 

1 breathed orheriey li^ps, biit life seemed 
extinct, and every time I pi^essed her to me, 
I iimink'from her tin my back touched I3i0 
cokl gypsum widl. It ielt Gke a tontb, so 
chill, so damp, so eetd-^you hOve no notion 
hW cold them are kind o' walls are, they 
beat all natur'V-squeesed between this Ikozen 
gott on one side, and the icy plaster on the 
other, I felt as if my own lifo Wfts a ebbin* 
away fost. BDOr critter! sajrs I, haolier 
care of m«f braiight her to this pass? I^ 
piosi her to my l^ait once more; pVapi ifi» 
little heat thm left thefemay retrreiier,'aiid' 
I oan but die a few minutes soohor. ft' waft 
a last effoft, W it Succeeded ; ^he aeenied 
to breathe again — 1 spoke to her, but she 
couldttH answer, tiio' I felt her tears fipw faft 
Off nn^ bosom ; but I was actill/ sinkin' fkit 
mtself noWy— I felt my eend apprioOchin^ 
Then came reflection, bitter and sad thoughts 
they were too, I tell you. Dear, dear ! said 
I ; here's a pftthr ketUe o' fish', ftint then? 
we shall be both found dead hero in the 



iKioraiuS and what ivitt foUn vay «f i\klm 
l^MUtifidl ^11, and of one of our free and 
enlightened citisens* found in auch a scrape ? 
Nothin' will be too bad for 'em that they can 
lay their tongues to: that's a tact: the 
Yankee villain, the cheatin' Clockmaker, the 
— ^ : the thought gave my heart a jupe> so 
sharp, so deep, so painful, 1 awoke and found 
I wa« ahuggin' a snow wrtfath, that had 
lifted thro' a hole iu the roof on the bed ; 
part had melted and trickel'd down my breast, 
and part had frose to the clothes, aod chilled 
m» through. I woke up, proper glad — it 
was all a dream, you may depend — but ama- 
<in* c^d and dreadful stiff; and 1 was laid 
up at this place for three weeks with the 
'cute rheumatis, — that's a fact. — Sam Stick, 
Second Stries^ 

fioua o{ a a&taHn- 


Oysters ! food fit for the gods f What had 
been the banquets of Apidus without yeP 
The ^ell that cradled Venus on the waters 
must hate been an oyster-shell. Delicious 
children of the sea ! ye were my solace in that 
fllUnameless hour, when my heart was heavy 
within me, — when the present was utilauk, 
the future a dark abyss, the past a shadowy 
desert. Then, in the recklessness of my 
despair, not knowing whether I had an ap 
petite 01 not, I said, ** Give tne oysters!" 
and I ate of them. Lo! the clouds that 
^rouded my mind vanished: 

" My bosom's lord sat lightly on hb throue.'* 
I Uved— I joyed in life. Hogarth, that 
iiccurate observer of nature, represents a 
qoau Mt a^ electipu dinner dving with au 
qystor ou his fock. Tell me, fhofi chronicler 
of the past, is ^^re, on thy pagies, the re- 
qord of a dei^^h more glorious ? 4- W^ "^^y 
he sentimepital Qver an oyster. 

M^ has been styled a s{Meakipg ajiimal, 2| 
IjUighing ^imal, a ba^gaiuiiig animaly and 
^ diunken ^imal* in oontradistiaction to all 
(^^ i^ny|l«i, w>^> ^eitifi^ «P^If» <ior ^^^t 
ijor l^t^n, jp^r get drunk ; iitit a^ cooking 
apimal seenos, after all, to be his most cha* 
r^te^istic aud distinguishing i^i))ellation. |u 
the ifnpor^iit art o( copkjugj victuals, hi; 
urines pJ^e•emiueI^ ; )iere, h^ taxes all ^s 
iaevUieif, racks l^is inyention, tmt] gives uu- 
^qu;ide4 range h> hiif imagination. I^ature 
has t^ven to evejry othc^r animal a ^uUar 
ti^te, and furni^ihed three Of. f[mr If^nc^s of 
i^ fo.i^uit t|pe taste, but this sense, iu man, 
lycconomixiates itjMlf to fn iufiumerabl^ fman- 
tjty of n^er^als. lie has made copious s^ 
lections ^i^ot^ all t^iiugs th,at dwell mwif. the 
face of tl[ie globe)— fioi^ the birds ot the air, 
iroip the fish o^ t^e sea, (i^om the iuha^itantf 
of lake and river,. yea» from t)^ bo^vrels of the^ 
c^^ ^tas he.ext{^cte4 suVs^u^es to )n^uistei 

te his pi^aler and the whole minanil aad 
ve^tahle world has been ransacked with tnde* 
fabgable industry for its gratification. Thou- 
sands of his species pass their lives in dreary 
mines to seim forth the simple but indis- 
pensable salt with which he seasons his 
viands; while others fit out vesnels, and, amid 
storm and tempest, traverse the wilderness of 
waters for certain spices, that add piquancy 
to a favourite dish i But, aOer he has col- 
lected all the products of the world together^ 
that is only the commencement — the pcelimi* 
nary mustering of his forces. What are mU 
these materials, collectively, to the innum^ 
rable, the inconceivable quantity of dishes 
which he manuiactures from them, Hqr skilful 
combinations, or incongruous viixturea? 

The ancients knew something as regarded 
these matters, but still they seem to hav« 
studied expense and vanity more than real 
gratification. There are few that hav^ not 
heard of the extmvagandes of an ^e1ioga- 
bulus, his brains of flamingos, his tongues 
of nightingales, and his heads of ostriches» 
six hundred of which were served up in a sin- 
gle dish, and for which siogki dish the deserts 
of AraMii must have been seomed and deso- 
lated ; but there is no ingeiHiky in this, no- 
thing remarkable, save its moosMous folly. 

Men may disagree about forms of govern- 
ment, or ihe fine arts, or thp relative merits «f 
poets, painters, and actors, and whether f hey 
are right or wrong may lie perfectly sincere 
and well-meaning in their -ppmions ; but, 
whoever denies tlie complete supreoMcy of 
i|ie Oyster, must be given over as iacurahly 
infected with prejudice' and perveisenese. 


With ft^in)^ strange and undefin'd I gaze upon thy 

Tbon choice and juiry sfiechben of an ill«fate4 foco^ 
How calmly, yea, how meekly, thou redineat in thy 


Yet, what thy woes and sufferings are, man may 
ooi^ture well I 

For thou hast lifie, as well as he who reekleasly seeks 

And, could'fit thoa speak, might draw forth tmtxs •■ 

tiritiy as thy briae; 
For thuu wast turn from friends and home, and aU 

thy h(%irt coald wish, ' 

Thou hapWw. heli^i^s, innocent mute, peifeciM 

Periiap thou wast ^mit netily joln'4 to some salt 

piamp, young brida. 
Who bp'd her mouth for food with ttiee, wtien |low*d 

the flowing tide;* 
Perhaps iliou liast a family, from whoa tiicm hnst 

^^o siuUy wail for ^im, alas ! who never wi^ rf^uiji^ 

Thou wast )iaM»y on thy n^tiv? Ved,i^lpeKBtflitfasasM^ 

billows play. 
Till ttie cruel fisher wTench*d thee from ^hy " hofne, 
' sweet homey away; ' 

' * Dr. Kitchener says, that oysters taken from tba 
river, and k»»irt m fttsrti water, open- their mouths trt 
t\{e timeof thb ^wtxm of the Ude. ina'XpQctationsI 
tlKir.a^ct^t^iie^ b}!fnl 

TiiK mirror: 


tU atow'd tiiM in bit ^oUt, ai^ he ruw'tt lh«M to 

the strand — 
Thou wast bought, and soltl, and open*d^ and p1ac*d 

in this ri^t hund I 

I know that, while I moraliBe, thy flavour Ikdes 

away, — 
I ksow Um* thouriiottld^it be a'« alk«.* before Ihy 

sweets deoay 1— 
I know that it is foolishness, Uiis weak delay of mine, 
And epicures may laugh at it, as sentimental whine. 

Well, let them laugh* I still will drop a tear «*er thy 

sad &te, 
Thoa wretched atid HUfbted one I tlioa sad and deso- 

0*«r thee* and o'er thy kindred, hangs one all-eo»* 

S'lmibg doom. 
To die a slow and lingering death, or, living, find a 

tomb I 
E*en I, the friend of aU thy kmd, when I think of 

When I iwnder «'er the neltinK j«ys thy swallowing 

wiU impart. 
Can d^Ay tlie Ikte no longer ; xm» k>uk,»it Is my 

A gulp ;— one more ^-hi silent pause, a sigh, rad ail 

is post I 


I SHALL never forget the horror of that young 
man** dissolution. He lay> at timesi, the pic- 
ture of terror^ ga^iug upon the walls, ah>n|^ 
which, in his imagiaaiioiii crept myriads of 
loathsome reptiles, which now some frightful 
monster, and now a fire4ip|ied demon, steal- 
ing out of the shadows and preparing to 
dart upon him as their prey. Now he would 
whine and weep, as if asking forgiveness for 
some act of wrung done to the being man is 
most constant to wrong— the loving, the fee- 
ble, the confiding; anid aiipu, seized by a 
tempest of pas:>ion, the cause of which could 
only be imagined, he would start up, fight, 
foam at the mouth, and fall hack in convul- 
sions. Once he sat up in bed, and, looking 
like a corpse, began to sing a bacchanalian 
song; on another occasion, after lying for 
many minutes in apparent stupefaction, he 
leaped out of bed before he could be pre- 
vented, and, uttering a yell that was heard 
in the street, endeavoured to throw himself 
from the window. 

But the last raving net of aU was the most 
horrid. He rese upon his knees with a strength 
that could rtbt be resiste<l, caught up his pil- 
low, thrust it down upon the bed with both 
hands and there held it, with a grim counie- 
iMtnce and a chuckling laugh. None under- 
stood the act but myself : no other could read 
the devilish thoughts then at work in his 
bosom. It was the scene enacted in the cham- 
ber of his parent — he was repeating the deed 
ei murder — he was exulting, in imagination, 
over It successful parricide. 

In this thought he expired; for, while 
•tin presiing Upon the piltow with a giant*s 

.• Jhow whp wish to eat this delkk)Os restorative 
in tl^e (olboBt perfection, mnst eat it tlie moment it is 
Opeti^l^th its own gravy in the under shell ; if not 

Jlutely alive, its flavour and spirit are lost. 


siivnglb,'h« tw^itenly fsU ott his face, and 
when turned over was a corpse. He ganrt 
but a single gasp, and was n* more. 


It has been said, that the tremors or pre- 
sentiments of those who march to battle, are 
dissipated by the bustling of caparisoned 
horses, the rolling of the war-dnim, the clan- 
guor of the trumpet, the clink and fall of 
swords — " the noise of the captains and the 
shouting." Some such kind of inspiration is 
given to the thoughtful and observant man, 
who goes under the Great Fall of Niagara. 
As I moved along behind my sable guide, 
holding on to Id's dexter, 
«* Even as a child, when aeariiig sounds mdlei^. 
Clings close and closer to its mother's bueast.** 

while tlie waters dashed fiercer and moi<e 
fiercely aroond about mey mtthooght I had, 
in an evil hour, surrendered myself to perdi* 
tioni and was now being- dragged thither by 
the ebon paw of Satan. Shortly, however, 
the stormy music of Niagara took possession 
of my soul ; and had Abaddon himself been 
there, I could have followed him home. For 
one moment only I faltered. Tlie edge of 
the sheet nearest the Canada side, from it« 
rtide and fretting contact with the shore aliove, 
comes down with a stain of reddish brown. 
Near Termination j^ock, you pass by that 
dim border of the Fall, and exchanging re« 
cent darkness for the green and spectral 
light struggUni; through the thick water, 
you are enabled to discern where you are* 
My God! it is enough to make an earth- 
tried angel shudder, familiar though he may 
be with the wonder-workings of the Eternal. 
Look upward I There, forming a dismal curve 
over your head, and looming in the deceptive 
and imearthly light to a seeming distance of 
many hundred feet, moaning with that cease- 
less anthem which trembles at their base, the 
rocks arise toward Heaven — covered with the 
green ooze of centuries— hanging in horrid 
shelve^, and apparently on the very point of 
breaking with the weiglit of that accumu- 
lated sea which tumbles and howls over their 
upper verge I There is no scene of sublimity 
on earth comparable to this. You stand be- 
neath the rushing tributes from a hundred 
lakes ; you seem to hear the waiiingi of im- 
prisoned spirits, until, fraught and filled, 
vtith the spirit of the scene, you exclaim — 
" Thbrk is a Gont— and this vast cataract, 
awful, overpowering as it is, is but a play- 
thing of his hand !** 

But if you would obtain the deepest ahd 
strongest thoughts of Niagara, do as I say. 
Observe the semicircular cataract otf the Ca- 
nada side from the espUtntuU of the Pavitiun 
—But do not go down to the base of the Full. 
Let the view remain upon your mind ss a 
beautiful picture; keep the music in your 
ear ; lor it is a stern and many-toned music, 


I llM^^lJli^^li^.eb^»^lhi^i iiwiftiiyqbwbP^lw 
liBMMt 4»>ii<liiii|inttK jiww4Ji^itiff> te^ Ate 
f.M^VKtU^ Fallam-tane mikfsvlMx^iOnMre 
wk^ymMff^m Ip4|te i*«th,i aad Me tbfcinrlul 
4Qnneii^:fatmitg<AQmA t^pm you; bulyoiiatty 
take t]ie«iMid cf Ifais fetryiiBuw^ UwtliireMiM 
doBea mr^tvenfty yeeit be hae never met irith 
•o acddeitr you may Mieiwe faim, for iKe 
MMT of titttfi breAtlwe itknugk Ins Iwge grim 
wkaehere. Yau;w«U eee the w«ee» irortiiig 
theif lurMenltope^ anil Jut^ ledn emergkig 

r Hmm tbeir millfykeafwiit sod iwrtiiing featti, 
withtn a yard ef yaui pmw-^bul lie trnf ainid. 
Touareeoooattheioetiof : ;> 

And 1m^, :aflcir ally kind' wiAet, is tl^e 
"pifice fdir a view. Do ttof look'^lwut you 
'inudt. 9e eonteiit wi«h the thniider inrjfitke 
eat^ittitv^fl until eomepiwirii^ iM tief^ 
fill ohKH f t t, inndlyaetfoig As'ydmHUgrone, 
Wi§ywtiKtop Irat «^ Ihit p«iMi oil the ^aifr. 

can »ide, d^sme dowmraid m its prqpuhitve 

^^Met. tfim W ^ ^^^^ ^W^f 

Wca1ail^,^wllkiii'Bouaft^ 2ft #'Hagfi<«ta 
IHe abysf^ deKftbiiigr «i 'H'#ei«r aC'dO^ldb- 

''nUy ttie Ifi^rt^ VI ' vKim'JKMilMi w oMBVsnMy 
^t Dff/abd tlielvlioltfi^tf^lii^^titenwtt- 
Otoadian; Aniei4bkii; ind idl-^is lit^ett.^ 
once'; aiiparentry one unbrdkiin waAe^^of 

' atoi^y aiidtuiiitilttiOlls«id^''¥lMi^fl^ 

gcoumlv ebaikui^ irlilli the,ac!QeiMia^f^«$lBiHi* 
tpanned wfilkbift^ htm,' tm o m ii i k m rn^HUt 

MtmoUomff lo d eea tb iil l e pendefiFT^xKt, .< > 

. •*, 


H0i« MMkt ti^ tafD9eg^i9^l 

For«jMaei»iii?ffitoM ■. 
Mucking tlie clmn^s and the cli^i 


iTWE wooaxBNi pieimB^ of opiie 

BUKEOR Wfil^LUftOaiON, < ^ 
OvBi^dadec^ arer<totibU6i>8,^lie^aftiM with 
tbe.«i8Bnder8tandiM|f^«iid^g HMxyttg ^(Ite 
mteeribrfvv'UKtthif^ntefikied «lFettiiiftdti}«tt. 
iiau^ OH «or.itilaqiiio^iiii«y^f4ty^Kf^' er«^ 
soa^be triiaa{dmt«wli at Hy^tParfcMe^Mmtv. 
20n^ihe8tJr^5i4ag«i«e:ttta^rib» effigy^ male 
4if wood» oC w}ueiir^(lii«''Rki^e fr^gm^iif 4e a 
oqrreet /ropvefeDtati0% was ^ueed ok the 
said arch ; but by whose orden, 4t is not 

exuctly ^aowm Mt. Wyati's friends ^tei^ 
the OFectlon; fior is it Oxhibited by tliedit«6- 
^i^ ol^he sUb^ooMiniiltee, nbr with fli^lr 
'^«afi«itiOA~of ooft^urreooe. DoubtlMs it wan 
-fAaoed tliere tb see whether the site wk^pfb- 
^^nr'for a^statee^ Th9 aroh snems mtNle te 
Bbe^iha pedestat of n j^ifOUp ; and» as tha 
i&pe€UittnJo\»mm!i ** who^ser h«i stock op 
«he<«eeni« eAgT^eserves thanka: itdmtto»> 
istrates two tmagit)^>^*4li}iiithwL position ia^ a 
good dtte> and tlwiiaitaK) atatue^^pUoed iheiw 
^ould be uh intoierable eye<40ie.'* : 



[Qp.tlii^ 4Mnfst> Wm^ whioh the tid«l»f 
' iiiQigil^to^ «t tlbMi pref^iu. time,, rung po 

■IfQill^y, in, An»eriqAfJt ,n^ liot^be uniP- 
,|i9ii^ptMi|^ tii|,g»«e<;lhe,J»Uitwii^^e«cripti9|D» 

^fiiisfon AUn^ mA tgr,iw.flue!ted,.fr9m fAe 
Hobart, Town Qn^rrier^ M oeinf? m Uithftii 
nocount of ;th^ «diMU»tj|gee .pf that fiist^^ :tt ] 
' ^ Wiaeoiisitt i# Iscrattuag <ri^ n npm e e - 
^Umted cel e rity in weelth . esA fopulntion ; 
end: «Mnf fNM will wol eintwbttieieie it util 
'%v'4bitn«l Kiiecking ettlM ii(ete#'«f €oagteet 
for adBBtieflDtt«4filo the (Jvion. TlM<eoiMtty 
weet of the MiMissippi, between the deg^reee 
of 41 and ^y il itnturpaned in ^tvt unidn 6f 
adu^ltiiges, which daim the principal regard 
of tiiei agncdtiirist In apeciiying their ad- 
vaiitayiee, i^ I etould name feitili^ of mhI, 
healthi^neM of ctiaatey and hydraulic power, 
vsually ie much wantii^g in the west. The 
timtier and prairie lands exist in a more de- 
sirable relation to each other, gifing the new 
settler choice of situation, in whieh the moet 
£Mtidious mav Ih; pWaied. A^ n^y alkutlon 
has l)een mar^ particularLy dinjcted to the 
present appearance, and luture pcospects «Di- 
liraeed within the btitudiual limits rffernfd 
to, or what should be more proprly dt^finiid 
as the Lower Jo wa District 1 will nolr^mmfk 
Ifon theeQ&r« northern purtioa of thi« Hwtioa 
of country, iDOEit impro|>ffrly t^rnicd tlm Bli^^k 
Hawk I\urcha£e. The ^eiitiral dir^tioD of 
the eourse of the MLiii»i^ipi, wbich vash^s 
the eastern bound uy of the mfftioni of eoun* 
try nnder obvervatiODi i^ nearly a !ioiith*w«it ; 
and withaaib^ named Jimit» r^«ivea tht^ wa- 
ten of thrive connidi^fable tnbutarif^. The 
Lower Iowa m^anden \u a south^esat coume 
frr 150 miles ; the Wabi^ptaleoo hevlP}^ iti 
aouroe in the «ame beautiful region with the 
Iowa, and pursijitig an eauterly diieclion i» 
reeeived by the MiHsiiitppj in a ditect north- 
east Hue u)dve tbe mouth of the Iowa, Then 
comes the great M^quaquetois, havin]i^ xiini. 
lar sources, viz. from iuuumerabld ^prinj^i 
and ^duidly magnifying itself into a nver, 
like Its two neis^bours on the south, it is 
united to the "Father of Waten.*' Either 
of the thren are su£Bcient]y large for steam- 
l)oat nangation, whenever any oMasuree ean 
be adopted to obviate the difficulty of shifting 
aandbm* Besides theee^ them am three or 
four oUiers, of lets consequence^ whieh also 
empty Iheir waters into the Mississippi. The 
eotttttry ahotrnde with fise spEtngs> and when 
tbeydenet raiee- the- sur&ee it is seldom ne- 
cessary to eicainte mote thao^ ten or twelve 
feet to procure the best of wateiv Twelve 
months ago thin country had few or no actual 
settlem,' and now them «re mauyi and the 
emttmfion will not cease, till every acr» of 
land, suitable for farming, is tilled. The 
woodlands are usuaUy caltod gr6ves, though 

eome of them asi l sin ten 
^ret. They am designated by 1 
teriitie feature, ev,!flMiy Im^ receive their 
«amM :frem the fit9% eettkere. Betng^tittw 
roonded hy the pmifie, ihem ie ap'klea of 
' e iine ss united wi|h 4he' appearance of ei^ 
ckisivenese, which tenders Oe phce enviafaln 
when contrasted with the hmtted domains nf 
the New England lumer ; who, 1 am of oai* 
nion, would be aslenisiNd to witaees tW 
little ^M«|Mv«<ib« fweessnry for collivalion in 
:^nnr -vidni^. . Bvciy person movior hare with 
tin intentmn of cuHaeating, eairan* esmeo 
/with. Will llmi IViim lii hi tin jwfce ef oiw^, 
which is termed a pcmrie team ; and as eeni 
as he finds a Ipf^ion to pleaie himself he 
buil4tii c|d)in. fin; hie feinily on the borden 
of hit groie or timbei land» 9xA at once 
etrikee ii^.tl^e prvwiw vith his phn^h, whieh 
is so eoilstmcted, thai it is not n ecem aiy for 
4iny person to follow it. Thusene man, ocae 
oClen a lxgr> turns over two aoesper day, aild 
does not consider that he has wsde a fair be* 
ginning until he Ims eighty^er one hnndisd 
acres ploughed and wnder mee; all of which 
ht^ nfcom^luhKit In & few weekn; To speak 
of the wuadturftd productions of the western 
lands would only be directing your attention 
to a tntu subject, f do not Mttieve the culti- 
vator would dedre a more abundant CMipen- 
yatioQ Tot bii latHnjr^ or it might. With mom 
propriety^ be termed a gratui^ ; for the har- 
vest i» a thouHand times more then equiva- 
tedt for the Labour invested, llie difncuUy 
that ii e]tperieact:d in the interior of Indiana 
and lUinoU for the want of purchasers of 
pMiiee, will never be fdt here. The Mis- 
sitttippi ii «fer a leady market for every kind 
of produce. To the admirers of nature there 
c^inot be any country more worthy of their 
ad mi ration I a< ibere can be none where na- 
ture ha^ been more liberal of her charms. 
The haad that createei holds out great induce- 
ments to such fifl havQ capacities to ben^, 
and properly appreciate its beauties and its 
HpleudouT!;. I'owns no doubt will, at sofne 
tuiufe ]>eriud, be required to do the business 
of the country ; and there are some in a state 
of infancy, which must thrive from their be- 
ing " strong points ;** and which are hardly 
known on paper, being indebted for their 
eaisteneo4o the |MViefi# father^than to the 
prospective necemity of the country. Among^ 
thi:s number, im one is more wormy of being 
nianed than Rockingham. Situated on the 
Mississippi, directly opposite the mouth of 
the itock River, and peesessing eichistvefy 
the «dvaatag*e of its trade, as well as being a 
central pesiuon in her own flourishing tetri- 
twy* One concedes but a metitiad tribute, in 
speaking much in its praise, even? if it were 
dene at the expense of Stephenson and Rodk 
Island city ; the former being situated on the 
lUinob side of the Blississippi, three milee 
above the mouth of Rock River, and the latter 


Ttt£ SriKEdS. 

fftettUy staked v\^ on an eoaineuce three noilet 
up Rack Jkvfr. Twenty miles in the inte* 
nor, in the midst of a flourishing settlement 
of two hundred families, Iheie aw one or two 
iownt which recently attracted some notice $ 
the tnost flourishing of which is appropriiitely 
called GentrevilUi ; so that every secrion ti 
the ditttrict will build up for itself such places 
as the extent of its business may require. If 
you have a surplus population of any num- 
ber, who aw not too inddent to laahion their 
fortunes by industry and perseaierance, to such 
men we will extend a hearty weleome. But 
we want no drones ; nor dealers in wooden 

^Continued from pags 135.) 
' Mani^acture of Mosaic fVork, in Borne, 
This mgenious and plea^g work of art it 
ameh practised in Rome. Th0 chief manu- 
factory pf this kind is ia tho hands of govem- 
9Eieot, a9d conducted ia some of the lower 
tpartQienis of the Vatican. The shading is 
^r small pieces of glasft, coloured in all th« 
dsstiDguwhable varieties of shade, and there 
aie m«Ay more than might at first be ima- 
gined. We visited the establishment, and 
saw the process with all the materials. I'he 
coloureil i^lass was arranged in a pres- 
ccifaed order, according to the colours and 
varMiei*, to the number of twenty thousand 
different shades. Some of these pieces are 
extremely Kmull : to form a picture, they are 
1^1 set in a case prepared according to the 
sise of the picture, and over which is spread 
a composition of marble du^ fine sand, gum, 
oil, and the white of «ggs, which, being at 
first sotit, receives readily the selected parti- 
cles that are inserted to form the shades of 
th* picture; it grows harder, however, by 
time; and, when the picture is finished and 
sufficieutl)[ indumted, it is polished, and thus^ 
a picture is transferred from the surface of 
the flciiiible and fading canvass, to a substance 
as hard as marble, and as durable as the 
imperishable materials of which i( is formed, 
and 2^ fadeless as it is durable. It is the 
transferring of a picture t^bs wry substance 
of a manutactured article, like tapestry ; but 
while the latter iades and decays, the former 
encfures aud resists the assaults of time, 
liike tapettry, however, it is a slow and costly 
procejwi : some of these monaic pictures cost 
several y«jars of labour. One picture was 
shown us which employed twelve men eight 
years. Ail that is wsnting as an artist,, or, 
more properly, a manufaetucer in this depart- 
ment, is a little experience, a mtMrhauicat 
exsctness of habit, and, as the phrenologists 
would say, a good deveWpment of the urgatt 
Otf colour. 

J Visit to j^kim's FiUa^ 
This is situated at the foot of the moun- 
tain, «t Tivdi, abottt one half mile from <h« 
main roted. This Vitta, as it has been called, 
must have beiin almost a city, 'for it had 
theatres, temples, and puUic building^' in 
great abundance. Doubtless it was erected 
early in the second century of the Christiarti 
6ra, for the Emperor Adrian, by whom it was 
designed and built, died in 1 17. The design: 
of the excellent, talented, and tasteful em- 
peror, seems to have been to unite, in one 
lingle collection, many of ^e most intellect 
tual and classical associations of Gtreece, and 
something also of Kgypt. Hence he had the 
vale of Tempe, the river Peneus, the Klj^siaa 
Fields, the entrance into the infetnal regions, 
And the like. For edifices, he had what ito^ 
called the Lyceum, the Academia of I^atoiy 
the Prytaneura, <%c. &c. In this classical 
villa were a Greek and Latin library, and. 
setreral splendid temples, the ruins of which 
are still seen. The temples are generally 
arched over at the tops, like the Pantheon at 
Kome. llie temple of Serapis, a great por- 
tion of whose massy walls still remain, is aa 
edifice of this kind. Behind the niches 
where the statues'of the gods were placed, is 
a vacant space, which seems to have been 
entered by a secret passage from the top. 
Here, it is supposed, the priests werei accus* 
tomed to conceal themselves, to give respon- 
ses in answer to those who consulted the 
oracles, by which the ignorant multitudb 
were deceived into the idea that the voice 
came from the god himself. From this tem- 
ple much of the Egyptian statuary was taken. 
In fact, (he works of art, and especiiedly the 
sculpture taken from Adrian*8 Villa, have 
enriched more than one gallery, and moni 
than one city or state, with some of the finesi 
specimens of antiquity. In the TempUs of 
Venus, we were shown the very niche from 
which the celebrated Venus He afedieis, now 
at Florence^ was taken. In addition to the< 
buildings already mentioned, there were two 
theatres and two amphitheatres. The latter, 
however, are more generally supposed to be 
natanachia, or places fur the exhibition of 
naval comhats or games ; these were supposed 
to be filled with water at pleasure for this pur- 
pose, and around them are iogia, or galleries, 
still standiflg, where the spectators were placed 
to behold t£se exhibitions ; and underneath 
these log^a were shops, still in a state 6i fi^ie 
preservation, where they sold refreshments, 
<&ۥ The most perfect rooms now remaining 
are the Cento Camerelle, or One Hundred 
Chambers, m they ace called. They were 
the military iMucf acks ok lodges of the Praeto- 
rian guard. 

The most extensive ediflce, or ifather mng0 
of edifice, was the imperial palace, n>piy 
parts of wlineh still remain but partially inv . 
paired ; hem were the royal chambers, the 



saloons, the courts, the corridors, the gardens, 
the baths, and eveu, ia oae part, the prisons, 
all gr^d and majestic, though in ruios. The 
entire suite of architecturaT ruins belonging 
to this palace, must, I think, cover a number 
of acres. One oi* the pourts has a subtecra- 
iiean corridor quite round it, lighted by 
oblif^ue windows slanting outward and up- 
ward into the court ; the corridor is arched^ 
and lined with a coat of stucco, which is now 
hard as marble. But I must not dwell upon 
these ruins in detail ; they are too numerous 
and extensive to be minutdy described. 
The villa, it is said, extended over three 
Miiles in length, by one in breadth; and, 
indeed, what less could we expect when the 
Blysian Fields, the descent to the infernal 
vegions, the temples of the principal deitiep, 
the schools of the philosophers, the public 
fibraries, theatres and amphitheatres,^ and 
the imperial palace and gardens, with all 
their necessary appendages, were to be exhi- 
bited in connexion ? How Adrian, amid all 
his other duties and studieK, could find time 
to plan and execute this work, is surprising, 
when we reflect especially that he ^pept the 
first thirteen years out of the twenty-one of 
his reign in travelling over his vast empire. 
Icom Spain and the British Isles in the west 
to Asia in the east ; and that, in the remain- 
ing eight yedN, he was diligently engaged in 
his piuvate st^ditts, ia making laws, and iu 
managing the aflairs of his empire. He was 
indeed, a most extra9rdinary man, both in 
physical strength and ip intellectual endow- 
ments, an^, I might add, in moral virtues. 
Hence, in wandering amung the ruins of hii^ 
villa, the associations and historical remi- 
niscences afford a much greater pleasure 
than when contemplating the ruins of the 
palace of the Cssars, and of the golder^ house 
of ^ero on the Palatine HiH in Rome. You 
feel that you are Reading in the steps of a 
virtuous man, as well as of an illustrious 
prince and a sage philosopher. As you pass 
over the grounds of his extended stoUy you 
say. Here he walked and philosophized : and 
at the libraries, here he pursued his literary 
^udies; and here, at the temples, he wor- 
bhipped. It is true, he was not a Christian, 
but he became t^vQurable to Christianily. 
He piit an end to the persecutions that hafl 
XBged against it Un&r former emperors; 
and he thought so favourably of Jesus Christ, 
that he |]^d serious thoughts, it is said, of 
ddmitting him among the number of the 
gods I ' ' f 

Another circumstance which enhances the 
pleasure of contemplating these ruins is the 
sgiUti^e ^^t p^ei^aUs ^ound. In. Home y9u 
find crowding around the desplatj^ons o^ ^njir 
quity the busy mulJ^^lu^e ^f a o^er^. x^. 
The Pantheon anil various other ^cie^t 
edifices are modern churches \ the Temp)e of 
Antoninus Pius is ' a custom-house : the 

Temple of Pallas is a .baker*8 shop ; and the 
ancient Forum, with its nodding columi^, 
and crumblim; temples, is a marketplace! 
But here you nave no such intrujtions; soli- 
tude reigns over these ruins ; noi even the 
farmer with his plough, nor the gardener with 
his spade, is allowed to t>reak iu upon 4he 
wildness and solitude of the sceae. The 
wild chamois may IWed here, and <* the fux 
may dig his hole unscared.'' Forest -trees 
have sprung up in every direction, overhang* 
ing the ruins and i;iving additional gloom to 
the picture. Nothing served mora to iuipress 
upon the mind a vivid conception of the 
9nti<)uit]r of the ruins than the sight ef a 
stately pine, irom two and a half to Sirte feet 
diameter, growing in the centre of one of the 
eouf ti of the imperial palace. Others of the 
same character ace seea in ditiKiient parts of 
the ground. But ttie tree that best chimes 
in with the genius of the place, and which if 
very abujK|ant ht^, is the tall perennial cy- 
press. T^ey shoot up^ in gloomy majesty ii| 
ditferent parts .e^ these grpundSi li}(e sil«ni 
sentinels xeepi^ tl^eir watc)^ 0H»if. the ^nse? 
crated ruins. . 

We hung around these relics oS foirmei; 
grapdeur until sunset; the shadows of the 
broken ^ches were deepened) the hpHu«. 
winds moaned through the trees; .th§ sensa^ 
tlons of this hour were iudeiieiibajsle ; it was 
t^e deepening of feelings that h94 long, been 
gatl>ping iftrength, j^ I ha^ for montl^ beeo 
holding communion with the ages of ^^itiquity* 
and had becoine ippre a^d more fissimiiWd 
into ^e spirit of th^se asspciatie^s.. Xb* 
nuisi^g^ of that houi: lyere a kind itf eucihaaiT. 
ment, and made n^e ^Itpost wish for .some 
lodge Y^ this '* ^ofie )iildttri)es9)'' this ex> 
tended contiguity of ruin^* wbeie, uadis*> 
1^|:bed, I migut muse upoo the fading glories 
of a changing and a transitory world. The 
l^ast 9f .4x6 company, ai^d with much .relncr 
tance, i at length, as .the. shades came OBy 
broke away from the attractions, leaving the 
sighing, winds to chent thraugh saether 
i^ight, as they have dvne through the sucs 
cessive nights of by-gone centuries, the 
melanehidy dirge ^f AdrioH's Villa in 

Th* antiquary may be gratified with the 
sight of a loal of: bre^d upwards of .700year4 
eld. It was included in a grant of the crown 
in the reign of King John^ and has. remnineil 
with the writings of t^e estate in the Spiv^'s 
family, of Ambaston, in Derbyshire, eve^; 
since. Our Kegworth Corre,spoi?cV*nt says,, 
he has seen and haiidled it at intervals during 
the last fifty years, and finds no^ alteration, 
except what may have arisen from the pilfer* 
ing of a few crumbs by the curious.-^iVo^/j. 
Review f Aug. 1838. 



Thb fiiit m^tio^ of fh« Geaeii^ Committer 
#lilch alwAys pnscea«» tt^e scieqtific biMiont, 
<^ the AtfwUtiop, wanJj^W attl^eCounar^ 
<^^ ^b the Mudt HiOCProfeMor WlMl» 
Vioe-Pratident, in the chair. The attend* 
ance of members was lam, and amongst 
thosli)|»kesltflt irete the SfoRjt^i^'^^^ 
thampton, the Bishep ef Di^ham, Locd Cole, 

Jt^ftoMownt IMsseon Babhage» ficMal^i 
«N4 Whmlitiinej Gotomis S^^^aA^Bn^sg^i 

.Th«i»ttoiiiiig li»t •( ike affi0«ib]sf a^eltsws 
mmmv^mukik l%rJAl^iiGe«Mi||<wi■ appni ee i <^ 
b9t4hli m«Btiag>>^i«riM«ithqr irdm mmikf 
pQtf^7 n< ?>~ " -l '.«'.*>■*•■ »-'.:^ v-i^T- 5-''i-x-ti « 

^^»MH)>ir A.— MtffR^Mail^^ iild 1%^.:^' 
Piyiiibii«, %^^^cattt^H«xiaiell; Vfce-Preti 
dlM#; Rf HaVid B^wstf^l % W/'Hiniatan. 
IKMliilAKiiiter^^^BI^. P; Biaiiiy; S«<cteta. 
riM, Kfi^fiBbine; Betr. P^lsteffir Cfaevaii^/, 
a*«ofell^MTu1|da. ' ' ^ ' ^^' ^^^ 

itkukidft" B.-^ChJrniijiW Hill! fihiertltegyr 
-i^ifetfrii^ Bet. W. Whew^ni VtCe-^ 

ftieml hfff4 hpMHpliioM'itHhtf dkfmmif itkl 
are appropriated to the coovenienQi^'«jf'<lMi 

Cehtral Exchange, Coui||y Cof^tr^Xoiira 
Hall, Assembly Roonm. Savings^ Baiik, in 
the'Urcadvr SniipiMf mi^Mi^^ 
tod the old Acadeaqrol A^ta^ '"• "^H . in^hs- 

*' iij i9e^Bbn BAdremfsirjr i^liMlnifraSpihr^ 
-^th^ |[buo#ifi^ was the order of bdsi|Aeifs,^ 
.^ Profes»<^ T^mpffO^T^K^t^ oln J>i«i9«^ 
niate oH ron . . . . . * / ^ * ^ r. ^^ ; 1' r, 

J. Kicbardtfon— On tb^. Cp|npo^^pn^;lii|. 

'le'ne, .^ , , . ■ .^ -t-^ -,.-,„., ^^ L::-fj.^\ 

rau - 

'ODsenrations on 

Ijji^d Plr«d^oe !br Oebgraphy; Viice-Piiefl(!- 

'IMtM'D.^Zoiylogt inid Bntiiny:--'^re-': 
Btttrhtj Sir Williitm JaTdine j ViCF-Presl- ' 
dmUt Dr. Gr«tille, the Re?, L. Jenyn^^" 
and th# Rev. F. W, H&pe; Secretrtri^. ' 
Mr. a. E. GrtLfj F.R.S., Profeaaor Owea^ ' 
nnd Df. Riehard^on. J*; 

Section E.— Medical Science. — Prej^ideat^ 
Df, Headlam^ the Mayor of Newcastle; 
Vioe-Pfe*ideDtH, Dr. CUrk, Mr. J. Fifej 
tukt Dl-. Ye^lowly. ; 

SertioTs F — StHti sites.— Preisi dent, Colo- ' 

>n thejjpipi^ 
sanction Qf CQmmfroif4 Carbonate priUii- 

Section C. — Geology and Geografhjui-C'i: 

other Animal Bbnes> by Williaro Long, "S^s 
District, by John Bnddle, Eiiq.i'Vic^^Pt^*^^ 

n, ^ydro^^iii ttiitf C 

r SnlJhuii^ArseriV/illT^ 



nd Sykes, F,K.S. j Vioe-Pteaidenta, Sit C, 

, ^ipn P^-;Z9olo|y.jHid,3Jptaiiy^i ,K 
1. On the Fish of Snrinam.iintlrfMip^griMf'' 
by W^Kpia 'li«lHMKr(^ iMd 

John Mortimeri of^ldetftiMrimryi LuidooL 
^« On lbie;B<HMir o^thfi dlaltoel lidands, 
by,O.C. Babuigtun^ Bm^ MJL| «. JtAm'Sy 
Ciai^g% Cambri4gfl- i. v ^.. 

3.— 1. W. C. Trevelynn, £s^ eidntttaA 
Sfl^m4|Pi^Jyu^f|i.|u)4 utsiiAiM^ t>f CblaUr 
iV«^ t<^:^^H0ll ^altiriMiidfai.iiekichl 
appear to differ from the English spseirti a 
3. A (S p^etf it^^Wt^di fdtftired in 

't^ Elba. 



Lemori, Messra- C, R. Porter, and C- \f , ^ 

Section G. — M^chanka,— Preakkntj Mir.^, mj *„ i \j* i — • 

Bftbbiige; Vict^^Preddent^. Sir J. Robinson. ;««*f"l "wwryV'- . ,, Va" '^/ ^7v^ 

Mefsn?. B- Donkin and a Stevenson. .^, C'^'J^^nfMer Gra^, Igaq.— On * t|4w . 

^ ^ Sp*lri«l bfSl^l tqtfnd on ^die Coast otl^di^'!'; 

Netc^sfie, Jtugjtst 21,^838. "The b^-^'-th.tfifnbeflj^^di by Mf*r,^M^^ 
tifiiiiii of the a^^vern] Sections commence^' ;'"*^ '**'^**^^j^'^*f "5*^1^^^ 

Crtinmittfre of ^Hch Section met in roora^^.^n^^^^dj^^p^l^^^j^^.^^ffljeswaay^ 
ad|«eeM to the re^peclu. Secl^dn rooma. ^,^ ,; Mt-^F.te)M)lir.1*#HL«r t^i« V^hm^W-^ 

Wfe shall proceed to nntice the Uaneaf- V^ChDhrau-od «»rfi svlii ft^jHR-HniJ^o^q « &i 9t*4' 
tiojoW iof the duy nc^rdbf^ in alp!iib«tjq}li r m^ .y4\^)^A.'jiL^%& ^^".^ f^; r" </ m .odiRnd 
order, adopted by the A^jodfllion in tli- ?Jif*>-<>nJPWJ.t^^ 
Brmhgi?ment of thetr Sections. f, ... ;5%?^''?%^i]^'vp«ft 'T^ce^pf^^ of 

Section A,-MatliemaUca and Phym.-^4^-4^*!*'*'?-^^ ft^f^..?l J^<W> ,«..T5^^-^t moi 
Met in. the Lectare Room of jUie .Liteiaim: 4Kp^,aiFfli»tJej Bfflftie^JUtifiB^nc^^«ftti ^ 

who6e^degan^.ia)^atteMiits^^^inv"Ww«g&l6^^ 3k4ii>aMibtiMli¥l|#f%f lif^g ^HffHslry; 



ni^&tk^'m^ 1 

Di ^;ljii;l 

MfSiWiM eneiiiG^r^ltiiMNMkeil^4MMii}ifdl>ni4iikti?e 
" : '^! '^ n«8S!'ii?»« S^ Kb^b i^^^' f.w4 for th« 
Di ,;«niic». «>u t- cr.ji»'.v/v v\;- ''*'''^ ««.;.i Cniers,** ijo that ilapp^rs to renenible iW 
4iaWJtWR.a.rii4iiMMiiMpri 8ci^ #htt0 Ikit df the^Jper thamer^^ 

wdent, Profesm AaV^i^i^ . ^ >. J^ lb t» «6i«iaSedf^ !)> tljb Imeetirtg that tterewIS 

Oa tttklQjf the cbairr the PrefiLdent of thia ll(^ «tilli^ent ^ktfl^r^^ 
Section, in « aliort, ajiproprnte* and well- -•*^**5^^- '--'" " 

receive^ tujdre^^ intimnt^d the wieh of the 
Ccnritiiltte«f ns wHl hj? hid o^ri, thnt ns ihti 
object of the Meeting is to promote Science/ 
^ih kView to eeonoitiixe tim^, no inquiry 
flhould lie jjermitted oa to ihe oK^niil m 

„,mc^iiDi| C.-^Oe;QLQG¥ and 0£O. v. 

i^*ntiw-6f any object brought before the Sec-. r*™?*l?S!^'* ?^ j _i ' 

ti^n^ but that ita meriU only should be did^ i|»;^i*e«»«iy«ai»toliiHig^h«l««li ai'^^i^ 
«iumU.^ as Other animal bones. The (act of haimill 


"^^eii^iBeM o^ tiiie' lection Ha 
nSa, explanatory of Mr. Joseph Ga 

hMCft beiilg^£Mlatt aibftddad M^mifmiir' 
t^jrarii^ ja(v^h|9AK>MiNiwmder9ad the int^fi^ 

thut htt httJ not peritoniyUy TL^iW thelooaUtf,- 
but always looked with §u:4p|don ni oa«Qa. 
where (he ^wtiociatJon of hum^D bouea with 
nm^^. So rf Vi '^^^^ V I thoae gfothef iniiimiUof extinct speciti^wa*. 
len;H»<»Mftl^i#IWttd«bnJ^',:^ sought to be eylabU»hed, The occ<ifr«i<«^, 
ioilfe*i>-> d-^-iy^n^-^A^i-'u of bumjin bwi^s fn cavern* mi^^ht be t«*d^ , 

uH »al_ .^.^ V:.---x . v^ *^* bottom of which are found human bvu\U , 

e'tiftfes/rhcHUS WMrnrn^i-ln^MHie^^ and bones> mix*;d witli thoae of bonri*, deer, 

tmOikafkmiihm^ftfAm^l^^miM'fkiifa^ oaten, ic, imbedded in soil evidenUj ol 

c^^^ .?■ )tl ;^. . .^^' c»1 ^a:* ' ^ If ,5 : 1's -^ -j. remoteoriK^in.and codtainin^-Tery fewiWil*,, 

y^j. ^». Sfi»^n KlIiifMh -T-^AfiMftMiCib df which ar«, however, very abundant in tho 

*^^^^?lKw^;^ i ^^ :^ -^ ': rookiiahove. Pro fc^ior Sedgwick remafJtedi 

Mr. G. WebTi) Hall.~S«0iiMiM|i6ii oT - ■ 

Heat for Domestip Purpose^ .t > 

Mr. P^lfe^ wS^W.i^l^nslHi^'tibtf "^i 

OJb^pi«iBMdg«8iT?rtnaf>^. 'Ho ri^-^% '-if^f '-iv ■ T 

Udr. |!p8ai^niiAerQ>ai 
stntdtioiBFof^tidmi^BoilMii: ..._ _ ^ .„,^_ _ .™^h 

,«« JdhhiR*Mk«lii-^Raili^.'B^*fi'f8r ei^^^ wiUiout. their . be ing coinpid*^iS,' 

»BMbjiw»ftn.i^hir.^ppiStjif«f ihl^r^t^^yf ^jtTi tbe rock, and no aff^ument could b^i 
bidu the use of Metals; intent^rb^ a^8#^ ' drawn from it for chnnfling the present ey»* 
**^^?fc*l^*'''' 'Z^ " ' ' . tern ofgeoIogiftLt, in vrhicli the asiatence rtf^ 

^tMB^^Tbdmas SafwniW^£^rti|»tbVed1lletK«fd!^^ honea belont^ing to the humrtn specie* ^ong^ 
otdsmMnidtiiigr lirj^ HM^g lettd IFrawirtg'^ with thoaeof extinct i*pecie* of animultt had « 
TaiilM^^ ^ :^ 0^ ^t ,iv..^t-t^^-,i ^?^^r» not been ejitabliiihed, Profe.*9or LyeU men- 

fli l>^t<^ff5*r.«»«S»/^««<ii*f«)A oS tioned that t hid subject had been minutelfL ^ 

k:^; I exumintd by emjjjent French geologiati, i 

«JK;ll;lkQi It^' 'kpY/i^Wi^i^o ^^7;^^^ who hnd fnund in n cavern in the south of 

^1?^1EK--S^^ bone. «i.oeiated with lho«, 

QFVom the Ttmet.y^ , ^ >: . , ; yi of the rhinoceroi* and elephnnt ; th« hitter 

MSf ^' SfP\il}^\f^^^^}f^\*?il^P^^ f *^^ "f l^^^"(r genera though extinct. ipefie*. 
P^IS^f ^a*i|^^ WW*^ ^'^^ ft ainffiilnr fact thj^t some piece* of 

^IS^ P"^»i|^n/ fiW fonnd along »ith tho.*iB boaas M 

sobTo^sts, was i^el wit^ in ^fga,^(lJr>9^^^.^^^ to examine a tumuhiK in the neigh- 

fome parts of the coast of Surfham. th^ w^ boiirhood, wh^re they found pieces of pot- 
teflMhieihaM'.atfamSii|t^licdtar1c-e(% frota, tei^ of the aame deacriplion.ajialso boneiof 
their prateowK Timet ^ilbe^^e^i»^ hi ih& ^the ox,asa, nnd goaU but none of the extinct 
^fl9ltlf^i^^»^^^^^^^^J^5^*'^'^^^baid rhinocerud or elephant The circumitAntie 
there is a protuberance like thehorawfa' «r han™an boneflbemg found in connexion 
"!r!5??^*^^¥*^'^^*''® "^^^^^o^berorgwi* ^ith those of ftnimftla wa.^ no proof that 


from its enemies, i 

101 ^J^fiu^ move alternately with th^ they wer<^ coevnl^but only that they were of 

r.*^' Ir 1i^ itt sinjorular mode of escilpe high antiquity, though not referable to a 

ts enemies, for #h^ iilarnied ft feti^eats geological era. 

m the sand ; JM in thiftiiQBitjbil lll«f ar« ^^•«^*9»^mgt0th$gmerairiiader. 



C|)e ^iMic JonnuilK. 


fA TBBY inftere^ng' paper in the Quarter^ 
Review condudes m follows :— ] 

A word of exptaoation on one historical 
pmtit of Home inlereirt^-which it » well 
should be settled in season — and we ha?e 
done. We have nttttded to the /*ac/ that the 
late passage of- the Atlantic by steam was 
by no means the first achievement of the 
kind. When we have spoken of the suc- 
cess of the^e new boats in strong terms, it 
has not been with the thought of encou- 
raging such an impression ; and we cer- 
tainly (io not think it of the least moment* 
fto far as British honour is concerned, that 
such an impression should prevail. AH ad- 
mit, that the mere fact of a solitary steam- 
vessel crossing the ocean some twenty years 
ago — whether by steam, or by sails, or both, 
and with • whatever purpose in view — is of 
little importance, as compared with* the un- 
dertaking and the establishment of such an 
enterprise, in such a manner as to make it 
the grand, regular naedium of communica- 
tion, and the growing source of immense 
retiidts, never before dreamed of, between 
America and Europe. This is the credit 
claimed, iir the present instance, by Brituh 
courage, energy, and skill. Thia the Ame- 
ricans allow us, and they may afford to do 
it. They have themselves, even in the same 
field, done enough to ccmteut ambition : 
they have taken up this scheme, in its pre- 
sent stage, with their usual spirit, and 
ikrithout a moment's hesitation or delay. 
UnMeasonable circumstances, in their pecu- 
niary situation, more, perhaps, than any 
thing else, may have prevented them from 
snatching this last honour from British 
hands : the conception itself was no new, 
crude, chimerical notion to them. 
' They have been too much ncciistomed to 
steam-movements on a grand scale to be 
t»«ken by surprise with this.. Not only did 
Fitch, of Philadelphia, hall a ceiitury ago, 
predict, with perfect confidence, the esta- 
blishment of Atlantic steam- navigation, but 
performances^ of substantially much the 
same character, as regards riik, have for 
many years been actually going on before 
the eyes of the American public, (as, in- 
deed, to some extent, also of ours.) A few 
months since we noticed this paragraph in 
a New York journal:— 

*' The British steamer, ' Sir Lionel 
Smith,' for which so much anxiety has been 
felt, reached this port yesterday, in fifteen 
days, from St, Thonias.** 

Along the extenriive coasts, and up the 
vast rivers, of the United States; the nature 
of their steam-operations is well known. 
At New Orleans they were talking, ^i.year 
or two since, (as well as at New York,) of 

establishing tlHs connexion with Eorope'li^ 
steam ; and the project seemed to have be^ 
abnndoned merely on account of the " cri- 
sis.'' A British passage across was made 
last winter by the " City of Kingston," in- 
tended for a Jamaica and Carthagena Aiail- 
nacket, we think. She, too, wa.4 much 
talked of as the first which had crossed.^ It 
seems, hoWever, that she put in at Madeira 
on her way. li is also well ascertained, 
that three steam -vessels, at least, had 
crossed— 'all the way — before her. Two of 
these were the Royal fVilHam, built at 
Quebec, for the trade between that port 
and Halifax, which was sold some years 
ago to the crown of PortugM for J3,000/., 
(and which we ourselves happened to se^ 
in Boston harbour, five or six years ago, 
when just arrived from Liverpool vid Hali- 
fax); and the Cape Breton, which was 
built at Greenock or Glasgow, and sent out 
to Pictou, for the use of a mining company. 
But the vessel to which the rei^ honour of 
first crossing, such as it is, must doubtless 
be awarded, was the Siivantiah; thus al- 
luded to in the 7\'mes of May 11, 1819 :^ 

" 6'rea^ Eaperimeni, — A new steam-ves- 
sel, of 300 tons, has been built at New 
York, for the express purpose of carrying 
passengers across the Atlantic She is to 
come to Liverpool direct." 

And she did reach Liverpool accordingly, 
on the 20th of June; coining, moreover^ 
direct from Savannah, in twenty-six days. 
We have seen it stated, that this vessel used 
her steam only when she failed to make 
four knots the hour by sailing; but these 
particulars, as we said before, are hardly 
worthy of notice. After a somewhat en- 
thusiastic reception at Liverpool, she pro- 
ceeded to Stockholm, where Bernaootte 
went on board, and made the captain sun- 
dry presents, significant of his royal gratifi- 
cation. The Emperor of Russia visited her 
also at Croostadt, and gave his host a silver 
tea-kettle, which he retains, as a trophy of 
his adventure, to this dayr 

To these, we believe, might be added tlie 
Cura^oa, which is said to have gone over 
direct from Holland to Surinam, in lS38y 
making the voyage from off Dover in 
twenty-four days. 


A GREAT manufacturing town, with high 
chimneys smoking in all directions — the 
houses and shopH, great and small, being 
of a dirty reddish hue, and seeming only 
suboidinate and auxiliary to the manu&c- 
toiies — but few people to be seen in the 
streets, which were bad and dirty ; add to aU 
this, the thick, hazy, smoke-laden atmos- 
phere, and the small searching rain cominji^ 
down unintermittingly— and you may su^i- 



tliat tbere was nothiiig pattictiUriy 
calci4Med to. elate ouc spiritii. Wtf were, 
however, exceedingly interettted in the several 
manufiBLctocies which we visited. The first 
was a glass-house — ^how d^rk and hot it 
wasjr-especially when contrasted with the 
cold said wet without Of course, you and 
many of y^mr readers must have seen a glass^ 
house; 1 shall not, therefore, trouble you 
with a description of it I kaow, however, 
and you can ^uess, what the intense and 
blasting furnace, which, out of small aper- 
tures, shot its lurid ra^ through the gloom, 
reminded one of— hut will not mention it to 
'* ears polite." It is curious to see a swart 
fellow poke a long hollow rod into the fur- 
nace,, attach to the end of it a small quantity 
of the pliant mass,, all red and glowing — 
blow it out, roll it about a little — and lo, in 
a twiukling, a saltcellar, a tumbler, a wine- 
glass, a decanter ! In another part of the 
works a great number of women were grind* 
ing glass for lamps, &c. &c., an operation 
which seemed to me to requii;e both care and 
dexterity. A third department was that of 
the glass-cutters, most of whom w^re little 
hoys, who sat at their respective mac^iuesy 
working as gravely, silently, and methodi- 
cally, as their , fathers, lliis, ali«o, is an 
interesting process. The last room was an 
oufur one, on the door of which might have 
been inscribed, — " Gather up the fragments, 
that nothing be lost," for in it two elderly 
Women were busily engaged sorting and 
most carefully washing, all the broken glass 
of the establishment, for the purpose of its 
being used up again. PractieCf of course, 
THokes perfect^ but I shuddered to see the 
haste and recklessness with which they han- 
dled the sharp . fragments — thrusting their 
hands into great baskets-full as carelessly, as 
& child into the heaps of pebbles on the sea- 
shore. One of them informed me that she 
had not cut her hand, nor hardly scratched it, 
Ibr a twelvemonth. 

The next place which we visited, I hardly 
know how to describe. It consisted of exten- 
sive premises, priuci()ally occupied by a very 
Uurge steam-engine, at full work when we 
entered, whose • powers were chiefly applied 
to the. rolling of brass, iron, and coi)per> into 
lods, bars, and plates^ even of the greatest 
tenuity. They rolled a penny- piece — save us 
from the Attoniey-Gteneral !— into a thin sUp 
of copper, some third of an inch in width, 
and J don't know how many yards in length. 
I shwldered as I stood in the midst of the 
ibaehinery^-oimmense wheels and cylinders 
till in full action, the former whirling round 
sixtyt tiffaes a minute, and keeping in rapid 
motion a vast number of smaller ones, which 
agitin communicnted motion to numerous 
other portions of the machinery, some of 
them very retnotei and belonging to various 
persons iii different trades, who rented the 

use of the sttem-engine of the propnietbr of 
it-HiU working at the same mdment Whilst 
I was gastng in silent apprehension at the 
tremeodous fly-wheel making its fearftilhf 
rapid revolutions, a shrill whistle was heardy 
and within a moment or two, every thine 
was at an absolute stand-still. Notice had 
been given that some small matter required 
rectifying. So easily is this huge agent con- 
trolled I I always feel great nervouiines* 
when amidst steam* machinery— a horror of 
being suddenly entangled and orush«d to 
death, as I heard, on this oeeasien, of one 
or two frightful instances; and, gatherittf^ 
the tails of my surtout closely avoaiid me, I 
'' walked circumspectly,'' and w^ so«» 
trepidation, close past the enxmnoos fly» 
wheel, already mentioned, and whoa* metioDs 
it made one disizy to look at. The froces* 
of rolling out the metal was the nmst sink- 
ing of those I witnessed. PsAcy iwo* soliiL' 
cylinders, of polished steel oc . iraa,, placed 
parallel horisontally, rolling round,- say one 
set witltin three inches of one another, the 
next an inch, &c. Between them is piuhed 
a solid bar of oopjier^p iron^ which, iir pass- 
ing tluMUgh, fA course suffers a certhi a degree 
ol attenuation^ and comes out proportionaHy 
flattened and ebngated. Thus it would be 
passed between cylinders closer and eloaer 
together, till, if required^ it might be reduced 
tfi the tenuity of tinfoil 1 As I stoo^l watch«> 
ing the men who, wHh such an indiiferent, 
aud apparently careless aiv, thrmt t!ie metal 
betweeu these rapidly revolving evlinders, I 
could not h^ a fraquent shudder at the 
possibility of l^ir fingers gorng- a little too' 
fur, as had several times been the case. Iti 
one of the rooms attached to the central one, 
in whidi the engine stood, were a number of 
boys and women, sitting each at theb ma- 
chine, makiug iron heels for bouts and sh^ies. 
How easily and rapidly it was donal the 
httle straight bar.^ of iron seemed like wax iti 
the hands of a mt>re boy or girl, who moulded 
them into the proper shape, and punched the- 
nail-holes in, and polished the rim, with sur- 
prising rapidity. — Blackwoiid''s Magazine. 

C|)e &at\)tvzx. 

Ejetraordinary Blind Man, — Forbes, in 
his Oriental Memoirs, vol. 1, p. 3, says — 
^ A certain blind man, well known in Dhu- 
boy, died during my residence there. Among 
various talents, he could generally discover 
hidilen treasure, whether buiied in the earUi, 
or concealed under water ; and possessed the 
faculty of diving and continuing a long timo 
in that element, without iiicoavenieuce. As 
he never commenced a search without stipu- 
lating for one-third of the value restored, he 
had, by this occupation, maintained an aged 
father, a wife, and several children. A gold- 
smith having a quarrel with his wifb, she, in 



and threw them into a walli but wkik wa» 
UDoertaiii* This blind nHW wm applied lo, 
lie ttipiiUtiDg to feeeive «M4hiid of the 
value wt hit trouble. AlWc a short ■eareh, 
be found the tnaai^ at the bottom of a welL 
The goldsmith oljected aflerwavds to pay the 
blind man, who appealed to ^ tmuk qf 
adawlet, who decreed him one-thiid of the 
property.** , 

Pfofimior Cariiaie, In one of hit Licttuca on 
Anatomy» ob^ervedi that the deeper mankind 
diie into anatomy, the liobre intrieate and 
perplexing it appean. How the mmd inilu- 

l operatea upon the musclet, laid he, 
la atill unknown. If it be adrenced, that it 
18 by the aid of eleetricity, then what power 
directs that electricity ? Mature haa here set 
up a barrier against the frail inquiries of hu* 
mm nature. The n wdwfu l mechanism of 
the body flaaenly be ascribed to the wisdom 
of oaa great canae. 

J\ffo €hUen Reasotu wkw Nathtu tMtmU 

1. The iatsrests of all nations being in 
harmony with each other, eteiy measure 
lending to lessen production in one nation, 
1«nds alM to lessen the reward of both la- 
bouier and capitalist in every other nation ; 
and every nation that tends to increase it, 
tefids to increase, the reward of the labourw 
and capitalist in every other nation. 

8. It is, therefore, the intevstt of all, that 
universal peace should prevail, whereby the 
wpste of popuhUion and of capital shouki be 
arrested, and that the only strile among na- 
tkms should be, to determine which £oM 
make the most rapid advances in those peaoe^ 
iul arts which ftiead to increase the comforts 
and eimmnents of the human race.— tlsivyV 
Brinetpkt ^fPoUUeal Ecomoti^. 

€!oepetf the American Nopeb'efe Opinion 
ef Sir fFalter Seoit : extracted from the 
American Monthly Magasine, July 1838.— 
" We state— and with positive knuwledge— 
Mut Mr, Coeper hoe aseetferaied e^enfy thai 
Sir fPkltffr Seote died a drmkwd. Every 
man, who respects the ittustrieos memory of 
the great literaiy benefactor of Ins raoe, should 
Bpake common cause in compelling the de- 
foaser to eat his words— words uanderousi 
fclse, and malignant. We trust that the 
•lander will reach the eara of Sir Walter's 
finends in Kngland, (and they are aU the 
reading pubKc,) so that the utterer of it may 
he soundly whi^ of justice whenever he bares 
himself to the lash by cobbling up his old 
JMunals into the shape of a book." 

Denth tf ffyde, Lard aarend^n.^-^m-' 
aecuted ; deprived, for a long tinw, by the 
mandate of Charles, of the society of his 
chiklren ; by the same mandate diiveu from 
place to place; in sidmeas^ and in any thing 

hoi wasih^ GhHwdon p ai ee d setmi yian of 
e<de in the most perterering literarv ia dn a 
try; and, after completing his maileify vindi- 
cation of the ungrateml Stoartv, dsM, at 
Roum, on the 9th of Deeembnv 1674, in 
the86thyeirof hiaage. He teats in West- 
minster Abbey withMit a tnoBaBBeat, and 
even without an inscription to mark the plaen 
of his interment 

A Locomotive FiUafe,— The Mesira. 
Lyons, coachmakera of this dty, are building 
a smaU moveable village fur the Utica ana 
£fyracttse Railroad. This ieompany have ne«r 
on their road two steam-^nigines, whidi driva 
the piles upon which the road is Imdt, aat 
saw them off at' the proper level ; the 
rails are then laid, and the rood completed 
as they go abng. The " villi^,^ consiatii% 
of a number of ne4t-looking cottages, ia to be 
placed on tiie read; in rear of the pile-drivera, 
for dwdling-houaea for the mechanics and 
labouren on the road. Improvements will 
never stop ; and we shall yet see the t*me 
when one majr take a tsa kettle in his haod» 
put a fow chips in his pocket, get acraes a 
broomstick, and go where he pleues. — Utica 

I The foUowing singUlAr Ai\ 
made a short time since, lb \t^ 
lead-mine, situated near Mold, 
At the end of one of the leveli^ t1 
were surprised by an immense 
suddenly busting in upon them, 
days the water totally disappeared i and, on 
proceeding to the place, they found an open- 
ing of alxmt four inches in manpten tt^ny 
euXuged the aperture, ao aa lo admit of their 
passing through, they discovered the bed of 
a subtemmeous river, which probab^ alfeida 
the principal supply to St Winifted's Well^ 
at Holywell, from which it is distant about 
twelve miles. In expk»ring the streaaHf 
which was shallow, they discovered, osl both 
aides of it, several large caverns ; from th« 
roofo and aides of which were suspended 
numerous beautiful specimens of white nar« 
or italactiies. W.Q.C. 

Russian Court Dress.— TkB natieoal diesa 
of Russia, which was introduced at court kf 
the present emjpreas, consists of a whiia ehs^ 
meae with white sleevea, and a 
robe, without sleeves. The haad-dn 
lofty crown, ornamented with 
jewels, from which hangs a huge tn 
teiL On hc4idays and fttes, the 
girls of Qreat Kusaia wear, in edition, a 
short silk mantlo, sometimes bordered with 
four, or down; and, for ear«ringa, somll red 
pearls, strung in a triangular form.*— W.O.C 

LONDON: Printed wUp^Mi^ksd kg J.LlMBifUK 
143. tStrand, {mmr SamertH Hms^.* m»4 ml4 W 

O. W,U. REYNOLDS, VfmA, iS^A. oatf Am^ 
riesM Uhmry, 55. itiM Ntmn^4MmMM^Pmr^^l% 

RPAiSFNcnr, cBARiSi ^vSlT 




of water 

After three 



No. 910,} 


[Prick 2if. 


This Intlitiittua hat been formed for the 
adnuceinent of Practical Science, in con- 
nexioB with n^eoltare, arts, and manufuc- 
Inrcs ; and tlie intention of the directors U, 
we nader^and, thRt the true ami important 
prineiplei upon which the fcienee^ are 
estabhahed, •hall be demonstrated by me- 
thodn the most simple and aattsfactorj, as 
connected with the processes employed in 
the most lueful arts and manufactures. 

The premisttt are those lately beloufj^ing 
to Lord Bentirick, No. 5, Cavendish Square; 
and in order to carry out the object of the 
Instiitition to its fuUest extent, a very spa- 
cious buildinj^ has been erected in the rear 
of the above maniioo, with a handt>ome ar- 

Vol. XXXII. L 

chitectoral entrance, at No. 309, Regent 
Street, near Laogham Place. The ground 
on which the buildings are erected, is 320 
feet long by 40 feet wide, devoted to manu- 
factures of various kinds, such as letter- 
press printing, optician's apparatus for po-. 
fiiihing lenses, «fec., a glass furnace, for melt- 
ing, blowing, and working glass of all cc 
lours; and also machinery for cutting, po- 
lishing, and engraving ; |in ivory turner's 
workshop, with every apparatus U!>'ed in 
turning; power-looms for weaving; and 
Earl Dundonald's rotary stenm-engine for 
pumps and other machinery. 

. Berieath this Hail of Mnnnfacture!*, a 
complete laboratory has been fitted up, ua< 



der the direction of Messrs. Cooper and Son, 
particularly adapted for private experimen- 
talists and patentees, who may require as-, 
ftiiitance in chyinical researches. On this 
floor is shown a novel and useful method of 
TOaki.njK. bread ; economical cooking by ^as ; 
an engineer's workshop, with forge ; steam- 
engine boilers, and olher machinery of that- 
description. The principal staircase leads 
to a spacious apartment, appropriated to 
the '* London Benevolent Repository," an 
association of ladies of distinction, who have 
humanely undertaken to dispose of works of 
ingenuity for benevolent purposes. 

Over the Hall of Manufactures, is a Thea* 
tre, or Lecture Room, capable Of containing 
500 persons, in which lectures on Chemistry, 
Natural Philosophy, and Chemical, are deli- 
vered, with extensive illustrations. A hydro- 
oxygen microscope, by Carey, the largest 
ever constructed, is here exhibited, the 
screen contaiuing 425 square feet. 

The Great Hall, which is 120 feetlong, 
40 feet wide, and 40 feet high, contains two 
immensely large metallic reflectors, by means 
of which whisper>i may be heard the whole 
length of the hall without a tube; cook- 
ing can also be performed by a Are 100 feet 
from the meat. Specimens of manufactures, 
]>aintings, models, and other works of art, 
are also to be seen here. In the centre of 
this haill are two canals, containing a surface 
of 700 feet of water, attached to which are 
nil the appurtenances of a dock-yard, and an 
extensive series of locks and water-mills in 
motion. At the junction of the canals is a 
large circular reservoir, into which a diving- 
bell, with the apparatus for conducting the 
operations of conveying the visitors ten or 
twf Ive feet under the water, is lowered : 
this certHinly seems, one of the most attrac- 
tive exhibitions of the establishment ; four or 
^ve may descend at a time. A diver also is 
seen to descend : he is clothed in a patent 
water-proof and air-tight diving-dress, which 
enables him, in any depth of water, to rise 
ojr sink at pleasure, and exhibits the art of 
C/urying on ^le operations under the water, 
^^iis charing the wrecks of «hips, ^c. ^e^ 
The, mode of recovering sunken vessels unci 
tn^ir. cargoes froip the bed of the ocean, is 
a^so e^hown. Innumerable other objects of, 
great interest, and of the most interesting 
nature, are to be seen, and. to which we 
shall refer in a future number. 

The Institution was opened to the public 
on Monday, August 6, 1838, since which 
time it has been visited by vast numbers 
of persons, it being found an intellectual 

It would be idle to dwell on the import- 
ance of an Institution of this kind and 
lUHgnitude ; its vast utility being so univer- 
sally acknowledged. There is sufficient 
room in London for two establishnaents ; 

the above nnd" the Adelaide Gallery ; * the 
situations, too, are so wide apart, that it it 
not likely their interests can clash ; and if 
they should do so, in a small degree, it mast 
urge them to greater exertions. 

*«-Two nenpecth-e painters lead as pftor bewitched 
moitnlii tlirough the whole theatre ta life, and these 
are. Memory and Hope.'* 

Jean Paxil RlCBTsa. 
MzMOKT and Hops— two spirits fair. 

I'hat on life*« deviou* iiathway tend ; 
Still loukini; tttick, or poiuting where 

Thfir lights and shadows both wUl end. 
Two lovely shades.— yet different far, 

EvHt their radiant fuims appear. 
Fur Ho|>e. how bright thy pic:ures are. 

And Memory, how soUt thy Tear I 
" I know thee i»y thy robe of Moaming,** 

1 fcuow thee by thy waiiderini^ kme ; 
Ever with twili^lit hours returnmg, 

Afiur from garish daylight bourn. 
Her voice was on the breese of night. 

Her step the fallen lenves simoU^ ; 
I followed by a dreamy llt;ht. 

Her far receding vales along. 
She pointed to forgotten things. 

Long vista'd sceot^ of other yeaxs ; 
And over them her mng c flmgs, 

A charm confess* d in silent tears. 
Oh, Memory I— all too much of sadness. 

Had thy pale visions imaged tiiere, 
I turned to Hope's blue e\e of gladness. 

Her pictured joys, Iter promise £ur. 
What glittf ring scenes before lier lie. 

What througiag joys, what flowery dreams I 
I saw ih*'m bloom,--! saw them die, — 

How withered now their beauty seems. 
I wept to see them fade so soon. 

The golden links iu wiiich she bound me. 
The ruMjati! liues^ that loug ere noou, 

Hi)d left all dark and lone.y round me. 
Thcu Ho^ from earth upraised her view. 

And pointed to the starry way ; 
I dried my te{jr»,—ft>r well I knew,* 

That heareuiy hope would neVr decay ! 

Anhe R— . 

How bright the sun's declining rays 

Glitter on yonder gOded spire ! 
How sweet the evening zephyr pls^s, 

Through those old trees, that seem on fire I 
Beneath those trees how oft I've strayed 

With Mary, rapture in my eyes I 
But now; alu& 1 tbeneotit their ^faide'i' 

AU Uiat remaim of Mahy lies I 
Oh I <^n I ere the scene fbrjrat ? 

*Twas such an eveuing— this the place, 
. That first the lovely girl I met. 

And gazed upon her angel face. 
The west, at day's departure, blushed. 

And brigiitf bed to a crimson hue ; 
Her chef k with kindred tints was fluslied, 

Aud ah I lu-r sun wus sinking toot 
Slie died ! — aud at that very liour 

Hitpe broke her waud. and pleasure flad. 
Lif •, as a charm, hath lost its power — 

Tiie euchiiiitress of my days is deiid! 
Thit sun, — those scenes where oft I've strayed 

Transported, I no longer prize. 
For now, alas ! beneath their shade, 

AU that remainrs of Maby lies 1 J. C. 

• For Views and Descriptions of the Adelai^* 
Gallery, see Mirror, vol. xxvi., pp. 113, 13^ 150 ; and' 
vql. XXX., p. 7. 




TION.— No. II. 
In my first paper on thii< Kubject» (lee page 
115,) I referred to " The lust days of Fom- 
peii/* for a graphic sketch of the ceremonies 
practised at a Koman funeraL Before pro- 
ceeding farther, I shall give a condensed 
extract of so much as bears upon our pre- 
sent subject ; directing the reader, for fuller 
details, to the work itself, where, at page 
25'of the third volume, he will find an ex- 
quisitely beautiful chapter, entitled, <'A 
Classic Funeral** 

<<Itwas among the loveliest customs of 
the ancieata to bury the young at the morn- 
ing twilight, for as they strove to give the 
softest interpretation to death, thej poeti- 
cally imagined that Aurora, who loved the 
young, had stolen them to her embrace. 
The stars were fading, one by one, fronn. the 

J^rey heavens, and night was slowly receding 
rom before the f4>proach of morn, when a 
dark group stood motionless before the 
door. High and slender torches, made 
paler by the unmellowed dawn, cast their 
light over various countenances, hushed for 
the mooient in one solemn and intent ex- 
pression. And now there arose a slow and 
dismal masic; which accorded sadly with 
the rite, and floated far along the desolate 
and breathless streets, while a chorus of 
female voices, accompanying the flute, sang 
the funeral dirge. A^ the hymn died away, 
the corpse, placed upon a couch* and covered 
with a purple pall, was carried forth with 
the feet foremost. The procession, headed 
by the torch-bearers, dad in black, swept 
on, till it had traversed the streets, passed 
the city gate, and gained the place of 

^ Rnised in the form of an altan stood the 
funeral pyre^ formed of unpolished pine ;. 
and with pre^rations of combustible matter! 
placed in its interstices; whUe around it^ 
drooped the dark and gloomy eypres9es> ao. 
long consecrated . b^* poetry to the timih. 
The bier being placed on the pile, the- chiefs 
mourner reoomed, (somthe attending pnafi>- 
the funeral torch ; and a sadden btfcsir of 
MiMis amioMieed tW birtb^f theaanotifyiog 
fam^ ||$|^ and far into the- da^i^ning- 
4tias broke the frageant fire* It flashed 
Jmninboriy across the gloomy cvpresa^s;. 
It shot above the massive walls of the fieigh-> 
^enringeity ; and: the early fisherman starts? 
i4 to behold the blaze reddening on the 
waves of the rippling sea. The breeze 
npidly aided the oombustion. By degrees- 
the flame wavered ; became lower and 
dim ; and slowly, by fits and unequal starts, 
died awaj ; eniblem of life itself ! Where 
a Utile before, all was restlessness and flame, 
nowrlay the dull and smouldering embers. 
The last sparks were extinqnished by the 
UleiidaA^: aad^theashee.o»lleeted. Steeped 

L 3 

in the rirett wine, and costliest odMi^ 
they were placed in a silver urn, jrhidi irft 
solemnly deposited in one of the neighboui^ 
ing sepulchres. They also phiced within it 
the vial full of tears, and the small coin> 
which poetry stiH consecrated to the gpring 
boatman.* The sepulchre was covered with 
flowers and chaplets; incense was kindled 
on the altar, and the tomb was hung round 
with lamps." 

Various specimens of the funeral umi 
here referred to, may be seen in the British 
Museum ; and engravings of them are given 
in the second volume of the ** Townley Gal« 
lery," in the " Librar;^' of Entertaining 
Knowledge,** That which is represented 
at page 255, is particularly elegant. In the 
second of the two volumes on Pompeii, in 
the same attractive work, a chapter is de- 
voted to tombs; and representations are 
given of many of them. At page 263, wa 
have an engraving of the interior of one in 
excellent preservation ; with urns ranged 
around on shelves and in niches. In a tomb 
at Pompeii, three glass urns were found. 
Besides burnt bones, they contained a li- 
quid ; which, on being analized, was found 
to consist of mingled wine, oil, and water. 

I concluded my former paper with Capt. 
Marryat's vivid description of death from 
spontaneous combustion. From the region 
of fiction, however, let us turn to that of 
fact. The whole sulject is one of great in- 
terest ; owing to the remarkable state into' 
which the body must be brought, and the 
striking nature of the effects produced. 
Nor is it as a mere mutter of curiosity that' 
the investigation of this subject is to be re« 
commended ; but as a means of promoting 
the ends of justice; for a murderer might' 
consume the body of his victim, and attri*. 
bute death to spontaneous combuHtion i[ 
while, on the other hand, a man has actually 
been condemned (though subsequently par- 
doned) on the charge of having murdered^ 
his wife, though there is little doubt her 
death was really occasioned by the caused' 
under discussion. It becomes of great ' eon* 
sequence to distinguish death from Wt^'^ 
idneous combustion, from death caused . Mr 
aeet'denial combustion. The latter seldooi" 
proc*^edi» to any extent without spreading to ' 
surrounding objects; while in Ute forrtfet^ 
they are often left untouched. If life shoulct' 
remain four or five days after partial oonv- 
bustion of a spontaneous kind, ad insupport- 
able fcetid odour is exhaled ; the nam be- 
come detached, and worms are generated ; 
all which characters distinguish the pheno-\ 
menon in question from accidental cunSus- 
tion, or common burns. The bones, too, . 
have often been found calcined in cases of 

* The '* grim boatmaD*' was Charon ; and tho coin ' 
was designed for his fee* in reiaru lor ro'triii^ ther re^ 
cenUy deoMsad parson over the Styiu ^ 



^poataneous combutftion, though in the 
.ordinary state of the body (aa we before 
.observed) this cannot be done without the 
aid of a furnace. It is also of importance 
to be acquainted with the appearance pro* 
duced by death from burning ; and the dif- 
ferent marks occasioned by applying heat 
to the body hefwre death, and after it. Some 
effects of heat are the same on living as on 
dead animal matter. The skin is first singed, 
and then charred; but in the living body 
there b a surrounding blush, which is ca- 
pable of being removed by pressure. There 
may. also be permanent redness, generally 
within an inch of the charred part. This 
is seen well after the application of a heated 
iron (** the actual cautery," as it is culled) 
^or surgical purposes ; and it even continues 
after death. Fire applied to a body after 
death causes no redness, and raises no 
l^listers. Dr. Christison, to whom I have 
before referred, has never been able, after 
numerous experiments, to produce them ; 
10 that if we And blisters and redness on a 
Body partially consumed, we may be sure 
the fire was applied before death. But air 
bubbles may be raised on the skin ; and we 
must be careful not to confound these with 
blisters. We must remember that a person 
whose body is found burned, may not have 
died fjrom the burning ; for there are many 
Mea. on record of murderers having put 
oombustibles round the body of the victim, 
so as to give the death the appearance of 
l>uming, A celebrated Continental author, 
Foder^, gives an instance in which this was 
done in France on a large scale. In 1809, 
a wretch murdered several individuals with 
an axe, and then set fire to the house. The 
medical officer did not think it worth while 
Id examine the bodies; and certified that 
Ifceir death was owing to the fire. Mean- 
nfehile an individual was discovered mur- 
dered, about a hundred paces from the 
house ; and .suspicion being excited, the 
bodies were disinterred : it was found that 
the flames had only burnt the flesh super- 
npially, and that the marks of the axe were 
still distinctly visible. 

'^Spontaneous Combustion is not confined 
tQthe human subject, but takes place, from 
chymical changes, in various inanimate sub- 
sifuipes. An examination of the latter will 
mepare us for an investigation of the former. 
Qne of the mo^t familiar examples is that in 
which hay takes fire, owing to the heat ge- 
nerated by fermentation, from its having 
been stacked while damp. We may observe 
h^re that, when a haystack has been par- 
tially consumed, it should be examined, to 
see whether it has burned from the outside 
towards the middle ; for, if so, the combus- 
tion was not spontaneous ; though the latter 
may be imitated by forcing a chymical mix- 
ture into the middle of the haystack^ by 
nieans of a stick, so as to make the combus- 

tion take place from the interior towards the 
outside. According to Dr. Traill (the 
very learned professor of Forensic Medicine 
in the University of Edinburgh,) Sponta- 
neous Combustion may be occasioned by 
the following causes: — 1. Friction, or per- 
cussion ; by which what is called the latent 
heat of bodies is suddenly rendered sensible. 
2. Fermentation of vegetable matter, as in 
the combustion of new nay, (which we have 
just mentioned,) collections of linen-rags, 
roasted bran, and powdered charcoal; in 
which the heat excited appears to be owing 
to the rapid absorption of watery vapour ; 
which, when condensed, gives out ita latent 
heat in sufiRcient quantity to produce igni- 
tion. 3. Chymical action ; as in the effect 
which some kinds of oil have on hemp, flax, 
cotton, and some powders, particularly those 
of charcoal and the black oxide of manga- 
nese.. It is also seen in the action of nitrie 
acid on indigo, some kinds of oil, and soma 
other substances ; and aUo in the mixture 
of oil with wool. 

With respect to friction. Dr. Traill once 
knew a mill consumed by being set in mo- 
tion by a storm. The stones had not been 
pressed tightly together ; and the rapid mo- 
tion caused so much heat, as to ignite the 
wood. Great heat is excited by the process 
of punching holes in metals, owing to the 
latent heat being rendered sensible by the 
combined percussion and friction. As to 
fermentation, in addition to the striking in- 
stance we have already mentioned, we may 
refer to the great heat which is produced 
in dunghills, and which was made use of in 
Egypt for hatching eggs. Roasted coffee, 
beans, and peas, (if dry and ground into 
meal) may take fire spontaneously. In 
Saxony, a cow-house was burned down, 
owing, as was conjectured, to the dry brau 
which was applied to the necks of die cattle, 
having spontaneously taken' fire. It was 
found, by one experimenter, that if meal was 
wrapped in a linen cloth, it soon ignited. 
Ground charcoal has often taken fire in 
powder-mills ; and this is said to have taken 
place most frequently with charcoal made 
from the alder. 

Let us come now to the third cause men- 
tioned—chemical action; though, indeed, 
fermentation is but a modification of it. If a 
drying oil be mixed with hmip-black, or 
ochre, and wrapped in a doth, combustion 
will take place. Many drying oils (such 
as that of linseed) will thus set fire to 
vegetable matter. On one occasion a sail- 
cloth, bedaubed with |>aint, ignited ; and 
in the arsenals of Kussia, fires have taken 
place several times, especially in the hemp 
arsenal at St. Peteri^burgh, though it ia 
situated on an island in the river Neva ; and 
no fire or light is allowed in it. Many ves- 
sels, probably, have been bnrned from similar 
causea. Many firea have taken place ia> 



TOpewalks iil Russia, owin)» to oil falling 
amonif the hemp. If the latter be loose, it 
may iuflame ; and if it has been made into 
ropes, they often get hot, and then soon be- 
f*ome useless by being charred. The Pan- 
theon, in London, was thought to have been 
bume<l by the spontaneous ignition of a mix- 
lure of linseed oil and black oxide of manga- 
nese^ use«l in the scenery^ The ship Ajax 
was considered to have been consumed from 
the coals which it carried becoming sponta- 
neously ignited ; and many ships have been 
burnetl from the water guining access to the 
unslaked lime which they carried ; and so 
httve houses, from unslaked lime being left 
in contact with wood. One fire occurred 
from rain getting info contact with lime on a 
bricklayer's premises. Threds of woollen 
cloth, coutHiuing much animal matter, heaped 
together, have been known, at Lefeds and 
other places, to take fire. At Paris, a man 
hid in a cellar twenty-five pieces of cloth, in 
the manufacture of which abundance of oil 
had been used. The cellar was closed with 
dung. After some weeks, dense smoke was 
observed issuing from it ; and on opening it, 
the cloth was found converted into a glu- 
tinous mass, which took fire when air was 
freely admitted. One parcel, which had been 
previously deprived of its grease, was found 
uninjured. N. R. 


Pope has said, that the Monument erecte^ 
on Fish Street Hill, to perpetuate the fact, 
that the Great Fire of London, which began 
the night of Sept. 2, 1666, was the efiect of a 
preconcerted conspiracy by the Papists and 
others, recorded what was not true, and like 
a tall bully, lied. *^ Facts are stubborn 
things,'* and the paper we now print, dated 
five months anterior to the time of the oc- 
currence of the conflagration, proves the con- 
piracy beyond all question. Historians 
seem not to l>e aware of this document, which 
the editor trusts will afford some gratification 
to his readers. 

The London Gabbttb, [No. 48] 

Published by Authority. 

From Thursday, April the 26th, to Monday, 

April the SOth, 1666. 

[Inter alia, last Paragraph.] 

At the sessions in the Old-Bailey, John 

Rathbone, an old- array colonel, William 

Stimders, Henry Tucker, Thomas Flint, 

Thomas Evans, John Myles, William West- 

cot, and John Cole, formerly officers or sol- 

dieis in the late rebellion, were indicted for 

conspiring &e death of his majesty, and the 

overthrow of the government; having laid 

tMr plot and contrivance for the surprisal of 

t^ Tow«r, the killing his grace the lord ge- 

neral. Sir John Robinson, lieutenant of hfa' 
majesty's tower of London, and Sir Richard 
Brown, and th*n to have declared fof an 
equal division of lands, &c. 

The better to effect this hellish design, the 
city was tu have been fired, and the portcullis to 
have been let down to keep out all assistance ; 
the horse-guards to have boen surprised in the 
inns where they were quartered, several ostlers 
having been gained for that purpose : The 
Tower was accordingly viewed, and its sur- 
prize ordered by boats over the moat, and 
trom thence to !»cale the wall. One Alex- 
ander, who is not yet taken, had likewiM 
distributed sums of money to these conspira^ 
tors ; and, for the carryiiig on of ihe deifign 
more effectually, they were told of a council 
of the great ones that sate frequently in 
London, from whom issued all orders ; which 
council received their directions from ano- 
ther in Holland, who sate with the States ; 
and that the third of September was pitched 
on for the attempt, as being found by LilUe's 
Almanack, and a scheme erected for that 
purpose to be a lucky day, a planet then 
ruling, which prognosticated the downfnl of 

The evidence against these persons was 
very :^* full and clear, and they, accord- 
ingly", found guilty of high treason. 

London, printed by Thomas Newcomb* 
over-against Baynard's Castle, in Thames- 
Street, 1666. 

Thb hand, in the eyes of most people, is a 
natural, though rather complicated, machine, 
composed of four fingers and a thumb. Its 
anatomy we leave to Dr. Bell, who has nmg 
a long peal on its wonders, and content 
ourselves with some passing observations, 
with a few sparrow-like peckings at the phi- 
losophy of the subject. 

I'he precise object for which hands were 
intended is a matter still in dispute, and will 
remain so as long as hands are variously 
employed ; and when they shall cease to be. 
so, we have no present means of guessinir. 
When man, the noble beast, roamed the 
woods, an uncontaminated child of natuie, 
his hands were, most probably, claws, with 
which he scraped roots out of the earth, and., 
climbed the tree, and tore to pieces the fruit 
on which his lordship fed. The stately 
children of the east still remind us that fin- 
gers were made l)efore forks, by the contiuued , 
preference given to the former at their tables. 
How different is the ever-restless, the untir- ; 
ing, hand, to the sober steady foot ; the one 
flies here, there, and everywhere, its excite- 
ments are strong and endearing, it almost . 
realizes the fiction of a perpetual motion ; , 
while the other, with its grave and judge-like 
dignity, serves biit one purpose, moves but in * 



-<one conne, (eieeptioiit excepted.) atoidin^, 
.aod almoin seorniBK, the flighty tricks of its 
.brother member. The first is a toysteriai; 
hoyden, the second a matron of right steady 
habits and circumspect conduct. The hand 
is, now-a-days, of such varied application, its 
:tuminf2^and twistings are so tortuous that we 
know not well how to find it, or where to fix 
.it. One hand holds the pen, another wields 
the ponderous hammer, a third emulates the 
delicate touches of a Rafiael, a fourth handles 
m tarring-brush to perfection. And not less 
varied are hands themselves than the purposes 
of their appliance. We have the delicate 
MXkd semi-transparent hand of the lady, 
through which a light appears as the moon 
veiled by a summer cloud, or the brighter 
verdure of the birch-tree, amidst the dark 
ibliage ot the mountain pine>wood ; and there 
Are others so dissimilar in every respect, in 
|me, texture, and consistence, that a learned 
pig, or a philosophic baboon, would hesitate 
to regard them as one species of the same 
genus, thongh they could not fail to remark 
general features of resemblance. Between 
the two extremes there is found an infinite 
variety, hands of all sorts and sites ; some 
hands are said to be aristocratic, to which 
long taper fingers are regarded as an indis- 
pensible appendage ^ others are called vulgar, 
but the precise form or complexion necessary 
to render them so, has not been accurately 

The idea may call forth a smile, but we 
believe the appeance of the hand is generally 
indicative of the manners of the individual. 
Who ever saw a large loose fi^t hand that he 
did not find its owner to be of an indolent 
temperament ; a thin muscular hand, on the 
contrary, as clearly indicates its possessor to 
be of an active stirring disposition. The 
sickly alabaster complexioned hand marks 
the sentimental man or woman ; the fleshlews 
and withered, betrays the nervous. This idea 
could be pursued to some extent, but we have 
dther matters in hand, and but little time 
to devote to them. 

The hand has found much food for meta- 
physics : it is said of one that he has a light 
or delicate hand ; to another is ascribed a 
liberal hand ; a third is remarked to have a 
tk^ht hand, though a mtich more expressive 
pnrase has been found for this variety, as a 
clbse fist, \hQ degradation of the term may 
prdbably be looked for in the contempt with 
which such hands are viewed. To tell a 
person he has a clumsy hand, is very few 
removes from telling him he is a fool. 

The hand has also been fruitful in peculiar 
idioms. In nautical phraseology t)ie number 
of a ship*s crew is calculated as so many 
hands, though somewhat singularly but one 
is allowed to ench man. ** liend a hand,** is 
a phrase al.sp of the ocean. This would sadly 
puxsle liny one but partially acquainted with 

our Lm^uige; after racking his brains, file 
would, iu all probability, arrive at the con- 
clusion, that if any meanmg at sll attached to 
the words, the loan required must be a hand 
of pork. 

Bnt notwithstanding the immense vartefy 
of uses to which the hand is, and the many 
more to which it may be, applied, we see 
persons who really do not know what to do 
with this function arv of the body corpomte. 
All must have marked lank gloveless paws 
hanging suspended at the ends of arms as 
though they had no connexion with the man ; 
the fingers motionless, and pointing to the 
toes, tlM thumb calmly sleeping in the arms 
of its brothers, and the whole having the 
Appearance of a forked icicle which for a 
week has braven the smoke and dust of 
London. In company this peculiarity will 
also be observed. It is a general accompani- 
ment of bashfulness. The miserable creature 
will oftentimes find his hands behind his 
back ; in a few minutes they will be hidden 
between his knees, but the most general 
resource is the pockets, where, let them once 
get quietly ensconced, they will be in no hurry 
to come forth. Occasionally this feeling has 
vet more singular consequences: we have 
known instances when the possessor of hands 
has been so anxious to hide them from view, 
that he would thrust them, not into his own 
pockets, but into those of any person who 
afforded him an opportunity. .. 

Many hands ate well employed ; the reverse, 
we fear, might be said of more. Often it is 
^he minister of good ; sometimes the agent 
<>f evil. It will do and undo; build and 
throw down. 

A shake of the hand h eonilial, and, we 
think, almost English. Some more polished 
nations, so far as ladies are concerned, lay 
aside the shake and kiss the firir fingers. 
We have not time to argue which mode is 
preferable, but must confess a partiality to 
our own custom, which, because it is more 
nalural, is likely to exhibit sinccrer fueling. 
We hope, in bidding us farewell, the reader 
will extend a friendly hanil, and not scruple 
to say that he shall be glad to meet us again. 

W.L G. 

A CARPENTER was admitted as a patient 
into the a^tylnm at Wakefield. H« had pr^ 
vjously made several att^mptf ^t. 9elf>4ee- 
truction,' and was thei^ 19 & ^f^ry ^e^pfx^^»^ 
state. ' A'ter |l^e diiffased i|ctH>ii k*^ nob- 
sided, great dejectiQu still fem^ip^d i he 
was, however, placed under the owrp of l)ie 
gardener, who was then conslri^ng 1^ kM 
of grotto ojr mosB^hoiM?* i? A^ gromd«* 
The cQniriving tbe building o^efed^nfoope 
for his taste and fngenuity. He waa con- 



•ttltedonthe trrabfeffleni of tht* floor, which 
WM formed of pieces of wood of dittferent 
kinds, get in vrtdous figures. He was fur- 
Ai^hed with tools, (hough he was of course 
most carefully watched. He took so great 
an interest in the little building, that the . 
current of his thoughts wa» changed. All 
his miseries were forgotten, and his recovery 
took place at the end of a few months. He 
.very justly attributed his restoration to the 
. moss house. Many years ago, when the 
workmen were fitting up the asylum at 
tlTakefield with gas-pipes> one of them care- 
leswly left in one of the wards an iron chisel, 
more than three feet long. A very powerful 
and violent patient seized it, and threatened 
to kill any one that should go near him. 
Keepers and patients all got out of his way, 
and he alone was soon in possession of the 
l^ller}', no one daring to go near him. After 
^nraiting a little time, until he was at the fur- 
ther end of it, I went towards him quite 
alone. I opened the door, and balanced 
. the key of the ward on the back of my hand, 
^valked very slowly towards him, looking in- 
tently upon it. His attention was imme- 
diately attracted ; he came towards me, and 
inquired what I was doing. I told him I 
-w«s trying to balance the key, and said, at 
the same time, that he could not balance 
the chisel in the same way on the back of 
his hand. He immediately placed it there, 
and extending his hand with the chisel upon 
it, 1 took it off very quietly, and without 
making any comment. Though he seemed 
a little chagrined at having lost his weapon, 
he naade no attempt to regain it, and in a 
short time the irritation passed away, it is 
impossible to account for the great effect 
occasionally produced in the minds of the in- 
sane by circumstances ajiparently most 
trivial. A practical illustration occurred at 
Wakefield. H. R., a female, about 40 years 
of age, had been insane for some years, 
when admitted. She was a very roba:«t wo- 
man, and being usually in a state of great 
excitement, was the terror of all the patients 
in the ward, when not in confinement. If, 
at any time, a softening influence could be 
produced upon her, and more gentle feelings 
called forth, it was by reference to the 
scenes of early life. In one of her most 
forioua ebullitions of passion, she contrived 
to seize my wife, and to twist her hand in 
her hair at the back of her head, and she 
looked at her with a countenance expressive 
of the utmost rage, and told her that t<he 
could ** twist her head round," which, from 
her great strength, was almost literally the 
tiruth ; when my wife answered with perfect 
calmness, ** Yes, ye could ; but 1 know you 
would not hurt a single hair.*' This confi- 
dent appeal pacified her, and she immedi* 
ately let go her hold. — El/is on Insanity, 


(^By the Secretary to the Meteorviogieal Society.) 
Under the head of hot winds are included all 
those which possess the most appalling and 
desolating effecta. They are the terror of 
the traveller who journeys through the 
regions in which they occur, and frequently 
the destruction of whole caravans, as they 
cross the sandy detterls of Arabia, which, 
with Egypt. Syria, and Sicily, are the prin- 
cipal places at which they are known to 
occur. They have their rise in the desert 
continents, where the air acquires an exces- 
sive degree of heat and ariility. Travellers 
have given three names to the hot winds of 
the desert, viz., ihekarMin, the simodm, and 
the samiel. The first of these appellations 
is the \rabic word /camsin, signifying fifty 
daj's, because they are known to prevail for 
about that period, preceding and following 
the equinoxes. The simoom is an Arabic 
word, signifying poison ; and the samiel \» 
from the word shamteiat which signifies the 
wind of Syria, The atmosphere assumes 
an alarming aspect as soon as these winds 
beprin to blow. The sky becomes dark, 
which before was transparent as crystal, the 
sun loses its splendour, and appears of b 
violet colour. The darkness of the air does 
not proceed from, clouds, but from its being 
loaded with dust. It sometimes appears 
yellowish, as asserted by some travellers, 
from the refraciiun of light in the minute 
pieces of quartz which are fioating in the 
air. Sometimes it assumes a blue colour, 
arising, it is said, from the wind coming 
from those districts where the soil is com- 
posed of a great deal of blue marl and brim 
stone. However these appearances may be 
produced, they are equally appalling. The 
temperature of the wind at the commence- 
ment is not remarkably hot, but it «oon in- 
creases till it ranges from 125 to 130 de- 
grees, Fahrenheit. When the wind blow* 
in sudden squalls, it is then that imminent 
danger is to be feared, as the velocity ol th^ 
wind increases the heat to an almost, and 
often altogether, insupportable degree. 

Volney gives the following description of 
this wind: — "When this wind occurs,'* 
says he. ** all animated bodies discover it by 
the change it produces in them. The lungs, 
which a too-rarified air no longer expands, 
are contracted and become uainful. Res* 
piration is short and difficult, tne skin parch- 
ed and dry, and the body consumed by an 
internal heat. In vain is recourse hud to 
large draughts of water ; nothing can res* 
tore respiration : in vain is cuulness sout^ht 
for ; all bodies in which it is usual to find it 
deceive the hand that touches them. Mar^ 
hie, iron, water — notwithstanding the sun 
no longer appears — are hot. The streets 
are desetted, and the dead silence of iM 
night reigns everywhere. The inhabitaBtV 



of towns and vi|ltt<te« nhni thenitfelvei up in 
their hoiueff, and those of the desert in their 
ien\8, or in wells dag in the earth, where 
they, wait the termination of this deAtmc- 
Iwa beat/* Travellers recommend those 
"wko are overtaken with this wind to fall flat 
<m their faces upon the ground, and cover 
their mouth and no*triIs with their hand- 
kerchiefs. Camels in crossing the desert, 
on the approach of the squHlls of this wind, 
bury their nostrils in the sand, and keep them 
there until the squall cettseM. Bruce ob- 
aervfH, that, whilst he and his fellow- trave- 
lers, w^re contemplating with unlK>unded 
delight a" distant spot to which they were 
hastening^ the guide cried out with a loud 
voice, " Fall on your faces, for here is the 
simoom!*' . This enterprwiug, traveller then 
says it approached from the south-east with 
• na^e, resembling the purple tint of a ruin-' 
bow> but so rapid was its motion, thnt he 
had scarcely time. to throw himself flnt on 
the ^roundr before the heat of the current 
sei^s^bly aflfected him: notwithstanding this 
precaution given b^ the guide, Bruce felt 
the heat ro suffocating, after the squall had 
passed over, that he did not thoroughly get 
rid of the apparently asthmatic sensation it 
produced for nearly two years afterwards. 
He describes H as not occupying a space of 
more than twenty yards in breadth, and about 
twelve feet high from the ground. It 
moved very rapidly, and was like a blusih in 
the air. 

Lord Byron compares the sudden depar- 
ture of the Giaour to the simoom : — 
•• He came, he went like the simoom. 
That liarbinjfer of fiite nud Kloom, 
Bra»nth wlio«e wwlely-wastiDK brwith 
The vt'Tj cyprera droops to death ; 
Dark tree, still tud when utherg' grief i» fl<*d, 
Tlie only coustaut mouruer o*er the dead/' 

The hot wind which passes over Sicily, 
a^d which is thought to have its origin in 
the burning deserts of Africa, is known by 
the name vt Sirocco, the heat of which is snid 
to be excessive. On the approach of this 
wind the inhabitants of the towns close their 
doors and windows, to keep out the external 
arir; and sprinkle their rooms with water : 
no one ventures to f^o out into the open air ; 
thd sensation on so doing is like the hurning 
steam from the mouth of an hot oven. The 
thermometer, which usually stands from 70 
to 72 degrees, suddenly rises to 1 10 or 112 
degrees. This wind blows from the south, 
and is succeeded by a north wind, called the 
tt*amonlane, which is a salutary relief after 
so distressing a visitation. The sirocco pro- 
duces great la!«situde and depression of the 
animal spirits, and renders both the body 
and the mind unfit for the discharge of their 
daily functions ; indeed, so remarkiible is the 
effect produced by this wind, that when any 
work, either in literature or the arts, is flat 
or insipid, the greatest disapprobation of it is 
expressed in the following sentence ** Era 

scritio in tempo del sirocco** — It was writes 
in the time of the sirocco. 

A modification of this wind js met witk 
in Spain and Portugal, and is known there 
by tne term solano ; its effects are therefore 
less distressing than those of the sirocco, 
though partaking of the same character. 
These effects may serve to illustrate, in some 
degree, the influence of every kind of wea- 
ther in exciting or depressing the energies 
of the animal system, in any season or in any 

In conclusion, we may learn that by the 
agency of wind the atmosphere is fumified 
from noxious efiuvia, which would be des- 
tructive to animal and vegetable life : by the 
means of currents of air, too, clouds are 
transported to distant regions, where, des- 
cending in the form of rain, they fertiliaM 
those lands that would otherwise become 
barren. Seeds which are furnished by na- 
ture with pinions, or fritted wings, as it 
were, are borni? along to extend to distant 
regions the empire of vegetation. Man, by 
his ingenuity, has converted the wind into a 
pewei ful lever, and made it subservi^t to 
kis wants and the increase of his weall^h, aa 
well as conducive to his pleasure, by. wafting 
him to distant countries, or carrying him on 
its wings to regions above the uouds^ — 
Extracted from that valuable Journal, the 
Gardener's Gazette* 

Ei40LAND is an exceedingly proud nsittonr 
and it would be the greatest moral anomt^ 
in the hititory of the world if she were not^ 
for never had any nation so much to ber 
proud of. She is proud of her own Utile 
island, and the more so, because she is so. 
little and yet so mighty. She is proud of^ 
her London, her Liverpool, her Maneheetery 
and all her great manufacturiag towns ami. 
districts, ^e is proud of her p rin eeiy 
merchants, of her immense coninstiree^ ii' 
her enormous wealth, and ereii of her n»-< 
iionul debt — for what other nation on 
the globe, she exultingly demmids» could 
pay the interest of such a debt without mif 
perceptible check to her pfosperity ? She is 
proud of her navy, of.her.decK«'yards» of her 
arsenals, and of her Greenwich and Chelstft 
palaces for invalid warriors; of her hospitaUf ' 
ner asylums, her alms-houses, which itttd- 
her island <* like strings of sparklhig dia- 
monds." She is proud of her vast foteign 
possessions and dependencies, she is }>roud < 
of her Gibraltar, of her tributary princes 
and emancipated islands. She is proud of 
her poets, of her Shakspeare, her Bliltoii« • 
her Pope, her Dryden, and hundreds of other • 
inspired souls. She is proud of her philan* -> 
thropists, of her Howard, her ReyuohlSy . 
her Coram, and her Gresham. She is proud 
of her mechanics, of her Smeaton, he 



Wtilis/fin Telford,' her Davy. She is 
proud of her We.<)1 minster Hall and WeKt- 
minster Abbey — of her Cathedrals — of her 
Churches. She is proud of her Drakes 
and Nelsons, and Marlboroughs and Wel- 
lingtons ; of her statesmen and orators ; of 
her Coke, her Ltttletoo, her Bacon, her 

Newlon, her Butler, her Locke. She itt 
proud of what she hat 6een, proud of what 
she t>, proud of the anticipated verdict of 
posterity io her favour. And last, she is 
beginning to be proud of her once way« 
ward daughter on the other side of the 


FdRMKD one of the three hills on which Je- 
ijualem was bMilt — the other two being 
tfttutki Acra, and Mount Moriah : of these, 
Mwuit Zibn was the highest, and was the 
southern portion of the ancient city, contain- 
ing the cityof IXivid, stronjrly fortified within 
1^ wall of great solidity, which enabled the 
^iisitet 80 long to keep it as their strong 
htold, and to retain their command over the 
lower part of the city, even when they were 
obligeu to ' allow the Israelites to share in its 
ocei^Mition. The city of Jerusalem most pro- 
bikkly -began at the southern, or Mount Zion 
part, and its extension, according to Jose- 
phus,' comprehended a circuit of thirty- three 
furiongs ; whereas that of the modem town 
does hot appear to exceed two miles and a 
half. It was enclosed with strong high walls 
and towers, and flanked completely round. 
The breadth of the ravine, which in Hollar's 
large foldii^ View of Jerusalem, is called the 
Valley of ^ropoeon, is about 150 feet: the 
bottom 6i this ravine is rock, and is the na- 
tural channel for conveying off the water that 
falls into it from the higher ground. From 
the rear of David's city a bridge led to Mount 
Calvary, and Mount Zion. In the valley of 
Jehosaphat was the garden where our Saviour 
preached to the people, and which spot is 
dearly shown in Hollar's view. 

Mount Zion is now nearly excluded from 
the walls of the present city. Chateaubriand 
describes the hill as of a barren appearancei 

opening in the form of a crescent towatds the 
city : he says, " From the top of the hill yoUj 
see to the south the valley of Ben-Hinnon ; 
beyond this, the Field of Blood, purchased 
with the thirty pieces of silver given to Judas ; 
the hill of £vil Counsel ; the tombs of the 

i'udges, and the whole desert towards fie 
»ron and Bethlehem : to the north, the wall 
of Jerusalem, which passes over the top, of 
Zion, intercepts the view of the city." Ou; 
passing from the city by the Zion gate, the',, 
first object that meets the eye is a ding}-, 
looking Turkish mosque, called the BfosqueJ, 
of David, and believed to have been built 
over his tomb, which is still exhibited in the 
interior, and held in the highest veneration, 
by the Moslems. To the right of this 
mosque, and l>etween it and the city gate^ 
there is a small Armenian cha|)el, said to be 
built on the spot where once stood the palace 
of Caiaphus. A few paces to the west of the 
chapel there is a Christian burial-ground.. ^ 
A little to the south of this is shown Uie spot 
where the Virgin Mary is said to have ex-' \ 
pired ; and on the north side of the gate is ' 
shown the place where the cock crew to 

Dr. Richardson, in his highly important 
< Travels,* thus concludes his account of this . 
interesting spot : — '' At the time when I vi- ■ 
sited this sacred ground, one part of it sup. .. 
ported a crop of barley ; another W*» unde;r->, « 
going the laliour of the plough, and the soil 



turned up consisted -of ttone and lime mixed 
with earth, such as ist usuaily met with in 
the ioimdatiuus of ruiued cities. It in nearly 
A mile in circumference, is highegt on the 
west side, and towards the east falls down in 
bioad terraces on the upper iiart of the 
mountain, aud narrow ones on the side, as it 
slopes down towards the brook Kedron. 
Each terrace is divided by the one above it 
by a low wall, built of the ruins of this cele- 
brated spot. The terraces ne»r the bottom of 
the hill are still used as gardens, and are wa- 
tered from the pool of Sitoam. They belong; 
chiefly to the inhabitants of the smsll village 
of Siloa, immediately opposite. We have 
here anolher remarkable instance of the spe- 
cial fulfilment of prophecy : — " Therefore 
shall Zion, for your sake, be plou^^hed as a 
field, and Jerusalem shall become heaps." 
(Micah, iii. 12) 

Speaking of this hallowed spot, the late 
unfortunate Mr. Davidson' thus expresses him^ 
•elf ^— ** My object, however, was to direct 
attention to general, and not to particular 
localities; if these latter remain doubtful, 
still the natural boundaries of the city exist. 
The Mount of Olives still yields its fruit, the 
brook Kedron still murmurs through the valei 
the tuins on Zion mark its fiosition, the vaU 
ley of Gehinnon is still studded with its 
tonnes; the rocky undulations on the west 
speak not of habitations — aud the north, 

- where only we could look for any extension of 
the city, is close(^ hy the tombs of its former 
kings. Truly may it be said of Jerusalem, 
her beauty is detiled with ashes, her splen- 
dour dimmed by calamity ; that the gorgeous 
robe of her splendour has been torn from her 
shoulders, and she has mantled herself in 
the tattered garment of affliction ; that her 
temples and palaces have mouldered in dust, 
her gokl has become dross, and that no mer- 
chants from afar frt^jueut her fairs ; that her 
once crowded streets and thronged courts 
have become the places and lanes of desola- 
tion ; that the joyous shout of her once proud 
possessors is changed to the stifled sigh of 
her present oppressed inhabitants ; yet, under 
all this, little has she lost of her interest, and 
anxiously is that day looked forward to by her 
still favoured remnant, when, Fhosnix like, 

she is to rise from her ashes, plumed in 
beauty, resplendent in beatitudes." 

Roman Pavement,— A few days ago some 
workmen employed in making a common- 
sewer down Queen-street, Cheapside, came 
in contact with a hard substance, twenty 
feet below the level of the road. On an 
examination being made, it was discovered 
to be the remains of a Roman pavement, 
and it whs conveyed to Guildhall for public 
inspection. Appareutly it was underneath 
the remains of St. Rennet's Church, which 
was burnt down during the great fire of 



Colonel Reid, R. E., read a paper on the 
law of storms and monsoons. It was found* 
6d on the observation of several of the moat 
remarkable storms occurring within the last 
few years, the courses of which were accu- 
rately df^ned. No theory was advanced, 
but a considerable number of facts adduced, 
to wliich he soHcited the co-operation of fu* 
ture observers. He traced ine eflect of a 
monsoon as emanating from a centre, and 
describing a common circle, an opinion which 
was supported by the President, who stated 
the singular opinion that the spots of the 
sun were produced by the operations of 
causes similar to those producing terrestrial 
monsoons, which move m a paf abolic cur\'e 
in different directions in botli hemispherea 
of the earth and sun. 

Section C— GEOLOGY and GEOGRA- 

A SKETCH of the Russian expedition to 
Nova Zembla, was read by Professor K. E. 
Von Baer. Five Russ^ian expeditions had 
been undertaken since the commencement 
of this century, but they had all failed in 
their attempts to explore the eastern shor^ 
of that i>Iand. One important fact had» 
however, been established by the last expe- 
dition, that Nova Zembla was only two- 
thirds of the size previously laid down on 
other map!<, and that the mountains were 
found to be from 3,000 to 4,000 feet ii> 
height. The President paid a high compli- 
ment to the Academy of Sciences of St. 
Petersburgh, which had effected much good, 
whilst they had the generosity to attribute 
their exertions solely to the impetus af- 
forded by British enterprise in the western 
shores of the Arctic region. It was a curi- 
ous fact that Professor Baer found galea 
from the east, while Messrs. Dease and 
Simpson, in their recent enterprise in the 
west, had found fogs with westerly galea. 
In allusion to these intrepid travellers, we 
might now indulge in the pleasing hope that 
they had already achieved the most im- 
portant geographical problem of modern 
times — the conamunication of the Atlantic 
and Pacific Oceans in those regions. 

After some preliminary observations, Cap. 
tain Washington, one of the secretaries, 
introduced to the notice of the meeting a * 
native of Mandingo, by name Mahomed 
Sissel. In his early years he had been a 
companion of Mungo Park, and for this rea^ 
son alone claimed sympathv and attention. 
He had been many years m captivity, and 
was now about to return to his native coun- 
try' and home, and, in fact, to the Tery spot 



wliefiee Mango Pork depnrWd in 1792. On 
hitf second journey, in 1805, he met this 
individual, who accompanied him on part of 
his journey. At eight yeara of age he was 
lent to s^chool, where he studied the Koran 
deeply, and became a very proficient scholar ; 
being however of a rambling disposition, he 
often ran away, and whs punished for his 
delinquencies. He also had recollection of 
the greiit quantity of rum that was required 
by Park for obtaining horties for hisjourney. 
He was now about fii'ty years of age, had 
travelled much in Africa, and kept a school 
for five years in his native village ; but there 
being war with the neighbouring chiefs, was 
made a prisoner, and sold to a French sla- 
Ter. After various vicissitudes he obtained 
his liberty, entered the English army, and 
served on various occasions in the West In- 
dies. In 1831 he married a Creole in Gre- 
nada^ who with himself and a child were 
now on their way home to Africa. He was 
€Hie of a society of Africans in Trinidad, 
established for the purpose of purchasing 
their freedom. He had lived with Captain 
Washington for a month, and performs the 
ceremony of his prayers from the top of 
the house at sunrise every morning. The 
Mandingo race is of much importance, the 
country embracing an extent of 120 miles, 
lirhilst the language is spoken for a distance 
«f 1,000 miles in the interior. He had en- 
gagped him fo write a grammar of that lun- 
Haage, and he had already obtained 2,000 
»hrases> which would be of great importance 
to future travellers in that vicinity. The 
Mandingo was of a fine athletic frame, full 
nix feet m height, his appearance being in* 
teUigent, and more resembling the Hindoo 
tlrnn the tbick-lipped negro. He wrote the 
Arabic language with great facility. 

fTednesehy, Jugwt ^, 1838. 
Section D.— ZOOLOGY and BOTANY. 
Ma. Hiif DMARSH, of Alnwick, read a oi>m* 
Buinication on the wild cattle of Chillinghaai 
Park, Northumberland. The existence of 
these animals here has long been considered 
an interesting problem of natural histury, 
and the general opinion is, that they are 
remnants of the ancient breed of wild oxen 
which in earlier periods pastured over the 
country, particularly the northern parts, and 
which the observations of the writer sanc« 
tinned. The herd consists of 80 individuals, 
and they possess all the characters of the 
wild species, by hiding their ^oung, feeding 
by night, remaining in security in the day, 
and moving their positions when any person 
approaches even at a great duitance. In 
■ome parts of the park they will, however, 
allow persons to come within a moderate 
distance, when they snuff the wind, and if 
fdaneed, retreat wCth great velocity, taking 
Mit«it8ge of the irre^larities of the ground. 

by which they are scJOnooncealed from sight. 
They are described as beautifully &huped, 
having short legs and a straight bnck, and 
their horns differing from thoce of ordinary 
cattle ; the muzzle of the animal is brown, 
the ears are red, and the body is of a pure / 

white. When any of their numbers become 
old or diseased, the rest of the herd will set 
upon it, and gore it to death ; and in addi- 
tion to all these characteristics of wild c!it- 
tle, they appear to be of a species quite 
distinct from the English oxen, although 
this has not before met with the attention 
of naturalists. It is conjectured that they 
were enclosed from the Northumbrian or 
Caledonian forests in the reign of King John, 
or Henry III., when the park was first sur- 

Mr. Turner exhibited a collection of in- 
sects from the Gold Coast, amongst which 
was a new species of that interesting genus, 
tho Goliathus beetle, which is an object of 
commercial as well as entomological value, 
as much as 50/. having been given for a 
specimen, whilst 20/. to 25^ was an ordinary 

Sbctioit F.— STATISTICS. 
Thb first paper read was statistical illustra- 
tions of the principal universities of Qreat 
Britain and Ireland, by the Rev. H. jL. 
Jones, M. A., late Fellow of Magdalene 
College, Cambridge. The paper was com^ 
piled from the most authentic private as 
well as public documents, and amongst 
others comprised the following details with ^ 
respect to their revenues. In Oxford there 
are 24 heads of colleges, with a revenue of 
18,350/.; 557 feUows with 116,5601; 393 
scholarships with 6,030/.; 199 college offi* 
cers with 15,650/. ; 885 benefices and in- 
cumbents with 136,500/. ; college revenues* 
152,670/., and receipts for rent of rooms, 
11,730/. The revenues of Cambridge, con- 
taining 17 colleges, is for an equal number 
of heads, 12,650/. ; 431 fellows whose reve« 
nue is 90,330/1; 793 scholarships with 
13,390/. ; 179 coUege officers with 17>750/.; 
252 prizes of the value of 1.038/.; 591 
benefices and incumbents with 93,300A ; 
rent of rooms, l.'>,680/.: and college reve- 
nues, 133,268/. In Dublin, the head of 
Trinity College receives 2,000/. ; 35 fellows, 
25,400/. ; 70 scholars, 2,100/. ; 10 college 
officers, 20.000/. ; 62 benefices and ineum- 
benU, 9,300/.; rent of rooms, 2,000/., and 
coUege revenues, 31 ,500A 

Friday, August 24. 
Mr. Babbaoc, in rising to propose the 
appointment of a president of the meeting 
next year, which is to be held at Birming- 
ham, felt that the subject was one of con- 
siderable importance, particularly at this 
time, as it must have an effect upon all 



th^ future procr^^itipfs of tlie A8:(Ocintion. 
Aft«»r Kome farther ob8er?iition8 upon the 
i>ropri4»^ of the choice of yice-pretfidents, 
Jie concluded by propoiting for president at 
Birmingham the Rev. W, Vernon Harcoart, 
vrho had taken such a distinguivhed interest 
in the Association from the period of its 

Sir J. Herschell seconded the nomioationy 
which was unanimously canrted. 

Sbctiok E.— ME15ICAL SCfENCE. 
Br. Jnolis exhibited the skull of Eugene 
Aram, and irom the tenour of his observa- 
tions appeared desirous to prove, by phreno^ 
logical olxservations and inductions, tnat that 
individual had suffered unjustly. IX was, 
however, observed by Dr. Knott, that the 
•kull could scarcely be identified* and that it 
appeared to be that of a person not above 30 
years of age, whereas Eug«ne Aram was 64 
at the time he suffered. 

Mr. W. L, Charlton read a statistical re- 
port of the parish of Bellingham, Northum- 
berland, at the close of which a conversation 
took place. 

Mr. Robert Owen : It appears from' Mr. 
Charlton's paper, that the inhabitants in 
general live almost solely on vegetable food. 
1 would ask him if they possess irood 
health ? 

Mr. Charlton: Sickness is not common 
in the parish. The inhabitants are, physi- 
cally, rather a fine race of men. 

Mr. Owen : On a more important point — 
that of education— I would take this oppor- 
tunity of expressing my surprise, that in the 
British Association there is no section de- 
voted to that sul^ect. 1 rejoice that men 
are taking up, or preparing to take up, the 
question. There is no money that can be 
spent HO economically as that which is devo- 
ted to the education of the people, judiciously 
conducted in a right direction. No capital 
will yield so large an amount of interest, 
speaking even in a pecuniary sense : — a com- 
pany cannot better invest a portion of its 
principal than in the education of the work- 
people, especially the yonog, whom it mav 
employ in its works ; and I regret that this 
Association has not yet definitely taken up 
the subject. I regret also that we have not 
a section devoted to morals, as well as phy- 
sics ; for we have a large amount of physical 
science in this country misapplied, k>r want 
of moral science to give it a right direction. 
There is in the kingdom a sufficient amount 
of physical science to place the people, not 
only beyond the reach, but beyond even the 
fear of poverty. All that is required is 
moral science rightly to appfy the physical ; 
and I hope the time is not far distant, when 
the leading minds of the country will vigo- 

rously take up the question of national edti- 
cation — a question which this Associatitift, 
from its great and Well-mfrited moral influ- 
ence with the nation, may urge fotwafd 
with incalculable power. 

fibk's thaybls in buropb. 
{Concluded frvm page 189.^ 
The Bridge of Sighs, 
JS^ai the palace of Venice, and separated 
jHily by a canal, is a prison ; this prison is 
connected with the palace by a high covered 
bridge, called the Bridge of Sighs.* This 
bridge has, or had, for it is now closed up, 
two passages : one leading from the prison 
into the council chambers, and another lead- 
ing to other more private apartments and 
dungeons under the pajace it&elf. These 
dungeons were accesiiible from the 
palace by a secret passage, which was mi- 
Kuown to the public until the arcana o| 
these apartments of death were laid open hgf 
the French. Indeed, it is said, that thm 
citizens generally did not know of the exi«t« 
ence of these wretched cells. U«»e tbo 
trembling victims were led to the torture and 
to death. We visited these gloomy prisooa | 
they were dark as night, and consisted eRck 
of one arch of heavy masoniy, nith a singk» 
hole for purposes of respiration, dec Tluty 
had been generally lined with wood; bvk 
Napoleon |)ermitted the citiiens to enter and 
tear out all that was movable in these horrid 
cells. Here was a grated window where tlM 
victims used to be strangled. They wem 
seated on a block within, and a rope fasteiMd 
at one end, passed through the grate anil 
round the neck, and out again to a machinal 
by the turning of which the head and 
shoulders were drawn up to the grate, and 
the poor wretch was strangled by the cord 
that passed round his neck. Another placa 
was fitted -up for decapitation, like a guillo- 
tine. The heavy knife, fixed to a frame. Was 
raised b^ machinery to the proper distance, 
(the victim being fixed in the right position,) 
when it fell and struck the head from the 
body, and a trench in the stone and holeti 
made for the purpose, conveyed the blued 
down into the waters below. AH this was 
done by night, and with the utmost privacy ; 
and here was the little arches in the waU; 
where the executioner placed his lamp while 
he performed his bloody work. The whole 
was made so real and brought so near by 
the associations around us, that the blood 
was almobt chilkd with horror ; and we were 
glad to leave those gloomy vaults where 
thousands had languished out years of 

• Becaose across tUsbrldge th« aceutedweielfld' 
for their inock>trUl to the secret tiibtUMlStWheieifae. 
sighing prisoner liad but little hope of justice. 



tolitary confinement, or ('d inisera\)ly 
by the hand of the executioner. 

Such was the {government of Venice, up 
to the time when the French revulutiou, 
hacked hy the armie» of the republic, came 
down upon Italy like a tremendous tornado, 
which hurled kings from their thrones — broke 
tip the foundations of nominal republics — 
unsettled the feudal aristocracies, that had 
for fourteen centuries pressed upon the social 
SYstem, and, what all must appn»ve, unbcked 
the prison-doors and Ut the priaonera go free. 
This was literally true, at Venice and else- 
where ; we saw one cell from which a pri- 
soner was liberated, who had been confined 
fourteen years. Soon after his Ulceration he 
became blind, from the effect of the light u{)ou 
eyes that had for fourteen years been accus- 
tomed ouly to the darkness of a dungeon. 

The Horological Tower 

Is in the splendid s^uar^ of the Imperial 
Palace, at Venice. It is also called the tower 
of the clock : it contains the city clock and a 
belly with two large brouxe human figures, 
who, with huge hammers, regularly strike the 
hours. Midway up the Horological Tower, 
Bts a noble bronze gilt figure of the Virgin 
and the infant Jesus, with an open galler}* in 
front of her, facing the square. On each 
side, is a door opening into the interior. At 
the striking of the clock, these doors fly open, 
and several persons move out in succession ; 
the first is a trumpeter, who raises his trum- 
pet to his mouth as he comes in front of the 
Virgin ; then follows three others in succes- 
sion, diesstid like eastern snges, and one of 
them a person of colour. They all pass in 
front of the Virgin round to the other side, 
bowing as they pass, then halting a moment, 
they straighten up, and entering the other 
dbor, disappear. This is called, the Fiait of 
the Magic, 

» 2He y*^ D'Esief on the Lake of Cemo, 

. Was built by the late Queen Caroline of 
England ; and here she lived a number of 
years in coniparntive retirement. And well 
did these gruunds become her. They were 
r^^ired and rural, and washed by the classic 
waters uf the lake. The only carriage- road 
to her palace was one which »he had caused 
to be constructed, at a great expense. The 
palace was directly under a mountain, whose 
magnificent terraces and (Mcturesque cascades 
greatly enhance the interest of the site. She 
had gardens and rivulets, shrubbery and 
flowers — rustic bridges, artificial and natural 
cascades ~ statuary, grottoes, and labyrinths ; 
all tahiefully arranged in lural beauty. The 
groiUids aie not now well kept ; and this, 
with the moaning of the evening breeze, gave 
d^uMv force to the mournful historic assoeia- 
tiMts of the past. 

State of Education in Pruaaia, 

One of the feahires of edoealioiKia FruMtrnf 
as in France, is, that the superinteadency of 
the schools is made a distinct depaftnwnt of 
government, with an efficient minister at its 
head. He, with his council and subordinate 
officers, looks after the whole system. He 
not only takes care of the funds and of their 
distribution, but he sees that weU qualified 
teachers are employed, proper text-hooka 
introduced, suitable houses provided, &c. 
To carry out the sy»tem efficiently, the coun- 
try is divided into provinces, and these into 
regency circkss, and these again into smaller 
circles, and, finally, the smaller circles into 
parishes. Each parish muat have a schooL 
This school is umler a parochial committee 
and inspector, subject to the supervision of 
the higher couneus,aiid of the miniater of 

Every pnrent is obliged by law to tend his 
child to school, from the age of seven years to 
fourteen. He can, however, by peuaisai en of 
the committee, take out hia cbiU before the 
age of fourteen, if the pupil shall have gone 
throu^ the coarse of prtnuny instruction; 
and, if the parent n not able to fiimish the 
diild with suitmbte clothing, ftc., to attend 
school, the puUic furnishes theip. 

Each parish is obliged by law to establish 
and maintain a primary school. 

The school-houses are well fitted and suit- 
ably located. A play-ground is generally 
laid out in connexion with the school-house, 
and often a garden, orchard, &c. 

In addition to suitable books and maps, 
cheap apparatus and collections in natural 
history are required. 

Reugiun is taught in the schools, and, 
where there are dinerent religions, a spirit of 
accommodation is enjoined ; and, if there is 
more than one master, when the parish is 
divided in its religious views, the head- 
master is to be of the religion of the majo- 
rity, and the assistant of that of the mi- 

Girls* schools are required, as far as prac- 
ticable, to be separate from the other sex. 

In addition to the ordinary branches of a 
primary education as given in our country, 
drawing, singing, and the elements of geo- 
metry, are required. Agricultural instructions 
and gymnastic exercises are also insisted on. 

But that which, more than anything else, 
gives character to these schools, is the com« 
l>etency of the instructors. To secure this 
there are forty-two normal schools, where 
teachers are trained to their profession. They 
are not only taught what to teach, but how 
to teach ; and, to this end, they are required 

• It should be recollected that thu accommoda- 
tion is effected where the population is divided be- 
tween Catholics and Protestants ; as is the case in a 
great |iart ttf Frassia. How moeh ensier mii^it this 
accommodation bo effecU-d between dilfertnt Prutea- 
tant sects ? 



to take n three years' course ; at the end of 
which, if found qualiBed, they receive a cer- 
tificate, specifiying their qualifications, apt- 
ness to teach, &c. As these teachers are 
educated at the public expense, they are re- 
quired to puntue the business of teaching 
\rh«re the consistories appoint. Those who 
excel ase promoted : those who are negligent 
are fined, and, it they continue unprofitable, 
they are dismissed. No one is allowed to 
teach who has not hb regular diploma or 

In addition to her primary schools and 
private seminaries, Prussia lias one hundred 
and ten higher schools, called gymaasiii^ 
and above these, she has six universities. 

From Germany, our author proceeds down 
the Rhine to Cologne, and from thence to 
Rotterdam, and arrives in a steamer in Eng- 
land. His remnrks whilst here, although 
keen and observing, present nothing very 
novel. Altera stay of some weeks he pro- 
ceeds to Ireland ; where, after the usual pic- 
ture of wretchtMiuesB, beauty, depravity^ and 
noble^heartedness, he gives the following 
account of 

Beggars at DrogAeda, 

When we left Drogheda the next morn- 
ing we saW' the fruits of Romanism in 
the full and abundant harvest ; a harvest of 
degradation and want. Our coach was sur- 
rounded with beggars, from whose importu- 
nities itseemed almost impossible to es- 
cape. Beggars, indeed, annoyed us al- 
most the whole route. Whenever we 
stopped we were assailed, and never was 
there a race better skilled in the beggar's 
dialect than the poor Irish. At one place a 
blind man accosted ns, who called himself 
** Poor Jack,-* and whose sight seemed to 
have been destroyed by a bum, which left 
his entire face scnrred, shrivelled, and de- 
formed. The language of bin sup{)lication 
was as follows: ** Have compassion upon 
Poor Jack, and God will reward yon 1'^ It 
was uttered in^a low, plaintive, undertone, 
which sounded as if the poor wretch had 
spoken from the depths of a dark prison- 
house. Such, indeed, was the gloomy habi- 
tation of his soul, for the windows of his 
house were curtained over in per|)etual dark- 
ness. I shall never, I think, forget the sound 
of that voice in my ear. I hear it still. 
Poor Jack ! who can doubt but that com- 
passion for thee will meet the reward of 
Heaven ? Another was the case of a misera^ 
ble looking, decrepit old lady, bending under 
the weight of threescore and ten. Her 
story Nvas soun told, and, as it was more 
simple, so it was n!ore expressive and touch- 
ing even than that of Poor Jack. Her voice 
was distinct, though tremiduus ; and as she 
reached out her skinny, withered hand, she 
said, ^* I ama poor widow ; I can do nothing 
/or mytei/!** Oh, merciful Heaven ! what 

a world is this ! These is almost enough is 
such an appeal to break one's heart A poof 
widow, stretching out her withered, helpless 
hand for charity, and her whole appearance 
speaking more forcibly than her tremulous, 
voice, ** / can do nothing /or myself !** 
Alas! how many widowed hearts thertt aiQ 
in this world who can do nothing for them- 
selves. That is not true, however, of all the 
wretched poor we saw on this route. Even 
the hea^ihy and the young were ragged and 
dirty, and their cabins were the most 
wi etched dwellings 1 ever saw. I thought 
I saw the most cheerless dwellings in Italy 
that mortals could well inhabit, but they did 
not compare with those of Ireland. These 
cabins are built of turf, the walls are low, 
and Uie floor is of earth. The pig lives 
much of the time in the t>ame mud-cell; the 
donkey also enters in here ; and sometimes, 
when he wishes to hold possession of both the 
interior and exterior domain, he stands with 
his head and fore feet out, while his hinder 
parts are housed] in this case he nearly fills 
up the hole of entrance. There is evidently 
a good deal of indulence among the peasan- 
try < Miuiy of tlu;m had potato patches at- 
tached to their cabins, and in these, for the* 
most part, the weeds had attained a rank 
growth, and run up to seed. It is thus that- 
thousands of the Irish peasantry live in idle- 
ness, (loveriy, and filth. 

flmctlote Gantry. 


Tbb. following anecdote of Henry, the first 
Duke of Lancaster, is extracted from Mr. 
Baine's History of Lanca:»bire :*-The Duke 
of Lanijaster, deeply imbued with the chi- 
valrous spirit of the age in which he lived, . 
obtained a license from the King to proceed . 
to Syracuse, to fight against the infidels. , 
To guard against the possible consequences 
of this crusade, he obuined a royal grant, 
providing, that in case be should depart this 
life before his return, his executors should^ 
retain all his estates, castles, manors, and' 
lands in their po8se«>sion, until his debts 
were discharged. On his journey he was 
taken prisoner in Germany, and constrained ' 
to give 3,000 scutes of gold for his liberty. 
This surprisal was made at the instance of ^ 
the Duke of Brunswick ; and learning, 
before he came to his destination, that the 
Christians and the Pugfans had made a truce, 
he returned to Cologne, where he observed, 
** thst it did not belong to a person of the 
Duke of Brunswick's rank to deal with a - 
stninger in a manner that the Duke had ' 
dealt with him ; that he had never offended 
him ; and if the Duke thought proper to 
interfere with his concerns, he would find 
him ready to play a soldier's part. This ' 
conversation having been communicated tO' 



the Dukftof BFUMwick> hd sent the Duke 
of Lancaster a letter of challenge to meet, 
him at Calais in single combat The Duke 
of Lancaster acceptejd this challenge with 
alacrity ; and taking with him fifty knights 
and a large retinue, he proceeded towards 
the scene of action. A rencounter between 
two personages of so much distinction, 
excited the deepest interest both in France 
and England ; and great efforts were made, 
but without success, to reconcile the com* 
batants without an appeal to arms. On the 
appointed day they entered the lists, and 
having taken the usual oathsy mounted their 
horses for the combat. In the moment of 
trial, the courage of the Duke of Brunswick 
failed him, and he quitted the quarrel, and 
submitted himself to the award of the King 
of France. The King and his court, who 
were to have witnessed the combat, now 
became the mediators, and at a great feast, 
reconciled the Dukes to each other. Having 
effected this object, the King exhibited to 
the Duke of Lancaster a great variety of rare 
and costly ornaments, which he presenteil for 
his acceptance ; but the Duke selected only 
one of the many curiosities which were laid, 
before him, and that wa^* a relic, in those 
days highly venerated, namely, a thorn out of 
the crown of our Saviour, which he brought 
to England, and deposited in the collegiate 
church of our Lady, at Leicester. 


The following anecdote is given by M. de 
Brossierre, as an illustration of the adroit- 
ness and audacity of the Arabs in some of 
their thefts :— An Arab introduced himself, 
by creeping on all fours, like a quadruped, 
into the tent in which one of the Beys was 
reposinfif, carrying off his clothes and arm?*, 
with which he attired himself. On qiiitting 
the tent very early in the morning, and 
asisnming the manner and haughty carriage 
of the chief, whom he left asleep, so imposed 
Bpon the attendants by his appearance, that 
they led forth their master's horse, which 
the Arab mounted and rode off, without 
creating suspicion. Ail hour afterwards, 
the servants were surprised at hearing the 
voice of the Bey, proceeding from the tent, 
oidling for assistance. The latter was still 
more astonished 'than his servants, the bold- 
ness and adroitness of the thief appeared to 
him totally incomprehensible. Alier several 
weeks spent in fruitless endeavours to disco- 
ver the delinquent, the Bey announced a 
free pardon , to whomsoever would acknow* 
ledge in what manner his arms had been 
removed from under the pillow on which he 
slept. Some days afterwards, the identical 
Arab presented himself before the Bey, and 
reminded him of his proclamation, motioned 
him to recline on nis couch and remain 
sHeoty whilst he should explain the mode by 

which he effected the robbery. The Arab 
forthwith dressed and armed himself as 
before, left the tent, and again deceived the 
domestics, who brought out for his use <i 
valuable and favourite horse, and, moreover^ 
handed him a most magnificent pipe, sop- 
posing all the time that they were waiting 
on their master. During the whole of this 
scene, the Bey, who saw what was passing, 
was convulsed with laughter, but his mem* 
ment was soon checked, when his prototype 
fairly made off, at full gallop, with his wea* 
pons and baggage. 


The following description of a Chinese bride 
is given by a modern traveller: — The son of 
our host having been married a few dap, wa 
were honoured, according to the usage of the 
country, during the honeymoon, with per- 
mission to look at his wife, as she stood at 
the door of her apartment, while we were 
passing out. The lady was surrounded by ' 
several old women, who held tapers and lamps' 
above and about her, that we might have a 
more complete view of her figure and attire. 
She was a young person, appafently about 
seventeen years of age, of middling stature, 
with very agreeable features and a hght com- 
plexion, though she seemed to have used 
paint. She wore a scarlet robe, superbly 
trimme<l with gold, which completely covered 
her from the shoulders to tHe ground: the 
sleeves were very full, and along the bottom 
was a beautiful fringe of small bells. Her 
head-<lresn sparkled with jewels, and was ele- 
gantly beaded with rows of pearls, encircling 
it like a coronet ; from the front of which, a 
brilliant angular ornament hung over her fore- 
head and between her eyebrows. She stood 
in a modest and gracefid attitude, having her 
eyes fixed on the fiour, thotigh she occasion- 
ally raised them, with a glance of timid cu- 
riosity, towards the spectators. Her hands, 
which were joined togt*ther, and folded in her 
robe, she lifted several times towards her face, 
and then lowered them very slowly. Her at- 
tendants, presuming that the guests would be 
gratified with a view of ivhat the Chinese con- 
sider the consummation of female beauty, 
raised the hem of the mantle from her feet 
for a moment or two : they were of the most 
diminutive kind, and reduced to a mere point 
at the toe. The shoes, like the rest of her 
bridal apparel, were scarlet, embroidered with 
gold. Her demeanor, during this exhibition, 
was natural and becoming, and, once or twice, 
a smile for an instant showed that she was 
not unconscious of the admiration which her 
appearance excited. W. Q. C. 



The Aniiqmry The late gullant Lieut;- 

Colonel CoMtable, formerly of the Bengal 
Artillery, and late of Park Crescent, 
who served iu the Mahratta war under Lord 
Lake, was present at Ally Ghur, Delhi, 
Las wane, and Agra, where he was Miiouiily 
wounded, and left senselests on the field, was 
the nephew of George Constable, the ori* 
final from whom Sir Walter Scott drew his 
character of the Antiquurw, — Timet, Aug. 
20, 1838. 

Advice to Organttgs.'-They should never 
attempt to play extempore, unless they have 
some sentiment distinctly felt to which ihey 
wish to give utterance. Nothing is more 
stale, flat, and unprofitable, than the vague 
running over the keys of the instrument, or 
modnlating from key to key without any 
definite oliject. All the scieaoe in the world, 
and even « fine ear for music, will be of 
little avail uuless the organist has the pro- 
)»er spirit for his duty. He should be deeply 
impressed with the sacredness of his task ; 
be should feel that he is not a mere hireling 
engaged to do a certain amount of drudgery, 
but that he is called iijpon to offer up to God 
a i|tiblime tribute of adoration. Inspired 
with holy reverence and awe, he should 
seek to pour out his soul in praise to the 
Almighty. And if he comes to the work 
with such feelings, he will find the noble 
instrument not wanting iu the power to give 
utterance to his devotion. 

Curiaui Ancient Graves, — In a small field 
at the back of Graham-street, the property 
of Mr. Laing, Lauriestown, five or 8\x 
ancient stone cofiins have been discovered in 
the course of cutting some drains. They 
are without bottoms, and only in tme was 
there any appearance of a cover. The sides 
are formed of six or eight pieces of flagstone 
undressed, and stuck edgeways in the soil. 
It is remarkable that not a single bone has 
been met with in these cofiins, the interior 
being filled with clay and earth. In expla- 
nation of this singular fact, it may be ob- 
served, that they are covered only by a thin 
stratum of vegetable soil, not exceeding a 
foot in thickness, through which the rains 
would penetrate, and of cour:se accelerate 
the process of decomposition. The subsoil 
is a yellow clay, in which the graves had 
been dug ; but it is observed, that part of 
the clay within the coffins has a blue colour 
and an altered apnearance, which may pos>r 
sibly arise from the incorporation of animal 
matter with it. The rudeness of the graves 
indicates great antiquity ; but their regular 
position, with the feet to the east, and head 
to the west, shows that they belong to 
Christian times.— ^o/^muiii, Aug, 1838. 

Oi^/cA««.— According to native testi- 
mony, the male ostrich sits on the nett 

(which it merely a hollow tpaee feooped 
,out in the sand) during the night, Oie bettar 
to defend the eggs from jaekals and otlier 
noctumal pknderers ; towards momingt he 
brummels, or uttera a grumbling soundf kfr 
the female to eoBi» and take his place ; abft 
sits on the ^XK" during the cool of the 
morning and evening. In the middle of the 
day, the pair, leaving the eggs in charge of 
the sun, and ** forgetting that the foot m«j 
crush them, or the wild beast break tfaeai," 
employ themselves in feedin}* ofl^the to|^ of 
bushes in the plain near their nest. Look* 
ing aloft at this time of day, a white Bgjp« 
tian vulture may be seen soaring in mid msr, 
with a large stone between his tdOBS. 
Having carefully surveyed the ground below 
him, he suddenly lets fall the stone, . aad 
then follows it in rapid descent. Let 'the 
hunter run to the spot, and he will find a 
nest of probably a score of egg^ (each equal 
in sise to 24 hen's eggs), some of them bro- 
ken by the vulture. The jackal is said to 
roll the eggs together to break them,'wbttot 
the hyena pushes them off with its nose to 
buiT them at a distance. — Alexander's Jfir^ 
pedition of Discovery, 

In a little hut, (says a recent writoTt) 
there lived a child, who, as soon aa the fiiat 
sunbeam glided softly through the caseaae«t 
and Itissed his sweet eyelids, and tlie fin^ 
and the linnet waked him merrily with their 
morning songs, arose, and went out into the 
green meadow, where he begged flour of the 
primrose, sugar of the violet, and butter of 
the butter-cup; shook dewdropa from the 
cowslip into the cop of a hare-lell ; spread, 
out a large lime-leal, set his litUe breakfael 
upon it, and feasted daintily. Sometimee 
he invited a humiining-bee, oftener a ffay 
butterfly, to partake his feast; but hia 
favourite guesi was the blue dragon*fly. 
The bee often inurmured about his riches : 
but the child said, ** were I a bee, heaps of 
treasure would make me gay and happy ; 
and I should think it much more delightful 
and *gloriou8 to float about in the free 
and fresh breezes of spring, and hum ioy- 
ously in the web of the sunbeams, thae, 
with heavy feet and heavy heart, to stow 
the silver wax and golden honey into eeOs." 
To this the butterfly assented ; and he told 
how, once on a time, he was greedy and 
sordid ; and thought of nothk^ hat eating, 
without ever loonag upward to the btae 
heavens. W. G. C. 

We beg to refer Mr. W. Jaaes. and otiasr Cknva. 
pondsots. to whum we kaftt not wriUea, to the Nodee 
tin the wrapper of the monthly part. 

lONDON: PriMfeimitdimbU$k»dM,UMBiRD, 
143. Strumd. (near Sntenet Houm) s nmd toU Im 

a, W.U, KBYKOLDS, r^eneh,B^^ m4 Jm*. 


Mfft ^iwov 


No. 911.] 


[PiiicB a/- 

\i^^^ff .=f%-/-^' 


Tms venetable Iionse it situated in the town, 
^p of Aightod, about three miles to the 
north-east of Rtbchester, and was formerly 
file princely manHion oi the Sherfoumes. It 
stands on an eminence, Which commands 
some extensive views both of Calder>bottom 
and Ribbles-dale, but is well screened from 
the north by the vast bulk and extent of 
Loa|^rid|i;e-fellM ; and probably was be^i^in 
by Sir Richard Sherburne, who died in 1594, 
and finished by his son in 1896, The heavy 
cupolas were added l^Sir Nicholas Sherbnme, 
who came to reside here in 1695 ; and the 
canals duK, and gardens laid out by himself 
in the Dutch taste. According to the custom 
of our old mansions, the domestic chapel was 
above the gateway; but a spacious and 
handsome oratory has been more rifcently 
fitted up, which, together with the sise and 
geaeral disposition of the apartments, render 
the whole easily convettible to tlie purpose of 
a large Catholic seminary, to which it is now 
appropriated. The house atid demesne be- 
loDf? to Thomas Weld, Esq., of Corfe Cattle, 
Vol. zxxii. M 

Dorsetshire. The former is a lofly, large 
pile, constructed at different periods, with a 
court in the middle. Its entrance gateway 
is ornamented with columns of the differenj^ 
orders, placed in pairs one above the other. 
The apartments are spacious, particularly the 
hall, and two large galleries, all of which de- 
monstrate that greatness rather than conve- 
nience and comfort, were principally attended 
to at the time they were designed. 

This place, with ^7,000 a-year, was left 
by a Duchess of Norfolk, who died in J 754, 
to her heirs at law, the Welds, who were 
descended from the only oister of her father, 
Sir Nicholas Sherburne, Bart. 

The family of the Welds possess great pro- 
{lerty in Lancashire, exclusive of Stonyhurst 
CoUep;e. In the township of Aighton, above- 
mentioned, the family are great benefactors 
to the poor; J. Weldj Esq., contributing 
JS92 per annum towards the support of some 
alms-houses there, and also endowing a Free- 
school with JS20 jhtr annum. 




Palaoi and priestlets Temple lying low t 

Midst ruins, Balbee mourns in mute prostration ; 

And high enthroned sits moody desolation. 
Where erst was beard the song's harmonious flow : 
On mo8»«lad walls the thirsty lichens now. 

And where uprose the maiden's hridu hymn 

With the loud anthem— there the lion grim 
Walks in his majesty, erect and slow. 

Can nations, once maiestic, so deeay. 
And &11 hefore the viewless scythe of time? 

O cease, vain thought I — this land itself did slav ; 

Vice, crowned supreme. wallc*d forth in bftgnt 
And Balbee now proclaims to every clime— 
That punishment u ever liiik'd to crime I 

E. J. Httcb. 

Ci^f fitLinxsiUit 

Ti8 natling*time— off where the hazel's grow. 

With book and satchel, with a bounding tread ; 

Off to the qniet of tlie wood and mead. 
And tear rich clusters ftrom the lavish bough I 
Shades of my boyhood's years I amid Uie glow 

Of ripen'd limits my longing footsteps lend I 

Haste to some sunny orchard plot, aud plead — 
Plead there with care for my enjoyment Now 

Autumn has swept her pencil o'er the trees. 
And left a golden stain. Hedge-rows are Stir 

(Ftinging old lanes— round green and " eotted 
With hip and haw, the blackberry and sloe. 

Lovely the moon, with bright flowers every where I 

Sweet the new song of Rrabreast warbling low. 
Tait*t Magazine, 

Stboko as tlie death it masters, is tlie hope 
That onward looks to immortality : 
liCt the frame perish, so the soul sur\'ive. 
Pure, spiritual, and loving. I believe 
The grave exalts, iKit separates, the ties 
Tliat iiold us in affection to our kind. 
I will look down from youder pityiog sky. 
Watching aud waiting those I loved on earth ; 
Auxioos in lieaven, until they, too, are there. 
I will attei»d your guardian angel's side, 
Aud weep away your faults with holy tears ; 
Your midnight shall be filled with solemn tliought ; 
And when, at length, death brings you to my lo\e. 
Mine thq first welcome heard in FaradLte. 

By Mn. C. Baron fFilton, 
SioHS are unavailing, 

Taars are also vain ; 
Lovers, unlike drooping flowers. 

Are not restor'd by rain : 
Maiden ! leave the fickle youth. 
Grief will not bring back hb truth 1 
Words are idle breathing ! 

Could reproaches cure. 
Never men would faithless be. 

Never maids endure; 
Woo not then the fickle youth. 
Coldness may restore his truth I 

MetropoiUan Qa»Me, Sept. 1838. 

CoxvAL with the Deity, who always was — 
Coeval with Jehovah, who shall always be — 
Immeasurable as space, and boundless as 
The universe— mir world is unto Thee 
No source of change; for still thou rollest on, 
As unafifected by its destiny. 
As is the n^ing of the mighty sea 
By some frail skiff upon its bosom borne. 
With rudder lost, sails rent, and spars and masts all 


Hating finished^ in oar lastr the consider- 
ation of bark, we now come to that of wood* 
It consitftx of what are called ligneous lajre^Vy 
of which thoHe in tbe centre are tlj^ehardeat ; 
and are called duranten^ or A^ar/- wood ; 
while the outer ones are called albumtwt, 
or lajE^wood. The latter, on account of its 
soft, moist nature, is not good for building ; 
and foresters sometimes cut away twenty or 
thirty layers, before they arrive at the dura- 
ble heart-wood. It is in the latter that' 
decay, when it attacks a tree, begins ; and 
old trees, much decayed within, will some- 
times be seen blooming with vigour ; but in 
such a case the alburnum will be found entire. 
Sap does not ascend through the bark, or 
through the pith ; for either of them maj 
be removed without injuring the flower or 
fruit ; but it ascends through the sap-wood., 
In order to harden the latter, it has been 
recommended to atri^ the tree of bark before 
felling it. It varies m thickness in different 
trees; and also in different parts of th« 
same tree. Thus, if the trunk -of a tree be 
sawn across, the circles of which it is com- 
posed will be found to be thicker at some 
parts than at others. This has been as- 
cribed to the aspect, but it really depends 
on the soil ; for the circles are thickest in 
those directions in which the roots obtain 
most nourishment. In general, one of 
these circles, or zones, is formed every year ; 
but there may be two zones in one year, if 
the weather should change from warm to 
cold, and from cold to warm again ; and if 
the winter should be very mild, so as not to 
put a stop to the growth of the tree, only 
one layer (though more than double the 
usual thickness) iray be formed in tW9 
years. In general, however, the age of the 
tree may be known by the number of circles. 
If the summer be cold, of course the zone 
formed that year will not be so thick as the 
rest ; and from this circumstance Linnsus, 
from examining old oaks, told what years 
had been remarkable for gpreat cold. If the 
cold be so great as to freeze the sap in the al- 
burnum, the outside of the latter is destroyed ; 
but in the following year anew layer is depo- 
sited round it; and when the tree is cut 
down, you may tell the date of the hard 
winter bv the number of circles which sur- 
round the decayed part This was done 
in France, after a period of ninety-one 
years. On the same principle inscriptions 
have been found in the middle of a tree. 
Thus, in some trees in the East Indies, in- 
scriptions were found which had been made 
by the Portuguese, two or three hundred 
years before ; and which had been gradually 
closed in by fresh layers. The mark of the 
injury always remains ; for wood is not de- 




poeitod ovet it for flome time. A stone may 
become enclosed in the same way, after ii 
series of years. If the leaves of a tree be 
destroyed by caterpillars^ bat little wood is 
formed that year ;' because the sap is not 
^bofated. Knots are the bases oJF abortive 
branches, having become encash in the 
lig^neous layers. External* to the alburnam, 
is the Hber, or inner^iOdt layer of the barkt 
It was much used for writing upon, before 
the invention of paper; insomuch, that ik 
has given its name to the Latin word for 
book. Trees which grow very quickly are 
light and spongy. The American aloe 
growis nearly a foot a day. 

In the section of the trunk of a tree, the 
circles are seen to be crossed by lines, radi- 
ating from the centre to the circumference. 
These are called medullary rings ; and con^ 
sist of lumiose, and not of mere threads. 
They are composed of cellular tissue ; are 
thickest in the middle ; and separate the 
fibres from the concentric* layers. Some 
of them are complete,— reaching from the 
centre to the circumference ; but many of 
them are not so. They are moat numerous 
at the circumference. 

The Pith. 

Within the innermost circle of wood (like 
the marrow within a bone) is the' pith, or 
medulla. It is surrounded by spiral vessels, 
which constitute what is called the medul- 
lary sheath. The form of the pitli is va- 
rious — being circular, or oval, or angular. 
Some have thought that the pith entirely 
disappears during the growth of the tree ; 
but it is now said that it does not. Its uses 
have been variously stated. Some have said 
that it was like the brain and spinal marrow 
in animals— giving sensibility to the plant ; 
but some plants have no pith. Some say 
that its office is to elaborate the sap ; others 
that it is a reservoir of nutriment for the 
yooog shoots ; for by means of the medul- 
lary rings, the buds are said to be brought 
into connection with the centre of the tree. 
TAe Boot. 

*Being aware of the great assistance which 
the memory derives from methodical arrange- 
ments, we shall endeavour to adopt the 
numencaA method as much as possible. It 
is -the plan foHo^ved in Rowden's *' Intro- 
duction to the Study of Botany^;*' a little 
work which we beg leave to reoommend to 
suclt of oftr readers as wish to see the •facts 
oCf'the science e^)>th>ed 4n a poetical dress. 
It 'i^emlnds us loroibly of Dr. DarwinV 
^* Botanic CJarden*^ Those who prefer 
]^ii|>rose wiQ do well tooonsultSiir Ed- 
ward Smith's *< Introduction to Botany.' ' 
Both of these works liave the advaMage of 
plates. • For the alphabet of fhe science, we 
should strongly reeommeud Pinnock's ** Ca- 
techism ^f Botany.^* 

Fleiits are -composed of five parts :--l. 


root ; 8. stem ';• 3. leives ; 4. flowers ; |f. 
appendages. We begin with the root, 
which is the part first developed. Some 

Sarasitic plants appear to consist only of 
owers; having neither root, stem, nor 
leaves. They are called parasitic, because 
they grow upon others, (Uke the mistletoe 
upon the Oat;,) instead of by an independent 
root of their own. Plants are divided into 
cellular and vateular; the former coosisi- 
ing of cellular tissue, which we examined 
in our last paper ; and the latter containing 
vessels, which we also took a view of oa 
the same occasion. Vascular plants are di- 
vided into monocotyledonous and dicotyle- 
donous, according as the seed consi/^ts ol 
one, or of two lobes ; a lobe being called « 
cotyledon. This is well shown hy a com^ 
mon bean ; which, if the outer • skin b» 
removed, will be found to consist of two 
portions, which are called lohee or cofyledonsu 
These cotyledonst when a seed germinates, 
usually rise above the ground, and become 

The root is the descending part of the 
plant. Its most simple form is that of 'a 
fibre, of uniform thickness. If the light have 
free access, it remains white, as is seen 
in the roots of hyacinths placed in glassesb 
The fibre is terminated by a little body^ 
called a epongiolef through which water - 
is received for the nourishment of the plant ; 
and if it be cut off, new fibres are sent off 
above the section, each terminated by a 
spongiole. Duck-weed has a solitary fibre 
for a root; but most plants have manf 
fibres, descending from what is called 9 
radicalpUUe. Fibrous roots belong to the 
most simple plants. The next gradation ia 
the divided fibrous root; each fibre being 
furnished with a spongiole. This kind of 
root is well seen in the grasses. AHo^thefy 
eleven kinds of roots are enumerated, as 
follows:— « I. simple; 3. fibrous; 3.741^ 
mose ; 4. bulbous ; b. tuberous ; 6. arti- 
culated ; 7* fusiform ; 8. globose ; 9. creep* 
ing; 10. prt&mocse ; 11. palmate; Vi. 
biderted ; 13. beaded ; 14. -granulated. 
Fibrous roots are generally found in sandy 
so^. The ultimate divisions of jthe fibree 
are caHed fiMtta^. When a root has 90- 
subdivisions, (like the radish,) ft is caJIJM 
simple ; while those roots which are divi^d^ 
into Ifl^ral branches, are called ramosem 
A tulip is a good example of the Milbovs 
root. They are of various kinds :~-K 
solid, as the meadow-saffron ; 3. laucinatedy 
as the onion ; 3. sotly, as (he sqaillt*, qiv 
sea-onion. The potato is the beet exampla 
of a tuberous root, as it is called, althou^ 
no proper root springs from the ttuber ; but 
the root (which is really njibrous one) ha9 
tubers connected with it. Hoots divided into 
joints (Uke the wood-sorrel) are called 
articulated; the different parts being, as it 
were;^ articulated to each other. £very 


TH£ JyllRROR. 

Joint maj be lepaimted, an^ will become a 
.new phmt An articulated root is sonie^ 
timea called horizontal, but it is very leldom 
that it grows in that direction. What ap- 
pears to be a horizontal root, is very often 
an Qi^rground stem. A/usi/omif or tap- 
TOOCy^s Dmong and tapering. The carrot and 
|»annips are ^ood examples ; the tnmip 
u a varietv of it, and in the radish we hare 
two varieties of it. It belongs to bietmiai 
plants ; those which take two years to come 
to perfection. The stock, or body of the 
loot, is called a eandex, which, like the 
tubers of the potato, forms a reservoir of 
nutriment, which is gradually carried up to 
the leaves, and there prepared for the 
aouru^ment of the seeds. As this absorp- 
tion takes place, the root becomes sticky ; 
owing to tne vessels, deprived of their mois- 
ture, becoming dry. Some divide this kind 
of root into three varieties :— 1. proper fusi- 
foite, as the beet-root ; 2. conical, as the 
carrot; S tapiform, as the turnip-radish. 
To tiie tap* roots belong the mandrake; 
ao caUed, because it divides into two, like 
^e lower extremities of a man. it was 
formerly directed to be pulled up by a dog, 
which was to have its tail fastened to the 
plant. It was said to prevent ladies being 
Darren. Every one will remember the dis- 
pute of Rachel and Leah on the subject 
A globose root resembles a bulb, but has 
ra£des springing out from all parts of it, 
as in the earth-nut, and some species of 
ranunculus. A creeping^ or repent root, 

rises along horizontally, and sends up fibres 
the surface. It is very difficult to extir- 
pate it We have an example in common 
mint It is found to be very useful in the 
dykes of Holland, and in Fifeshire ; for the 
roots bind the soil, and keep it together. 
A curious kind of root is that which is 
truncated, or ends abruptiy. It is catted 
orwmorse, because it appears as if part had 
been bitten off. Mervil says, that this ab- 
rupt appearance is caused by the separation 
ef the old root from the new. The plant 
called the << devil's bit scabious," has this 
kind of root; for a reason which is quaintiy 
told by Gerarde, (an old botanist,) in his 
** Herbal." '* The great part of the root 
aeemeth to be bitten away. Old fantasticke 
farmers report, that the devil did bite it for 
envie, because it is an herbe that hath so 
many good vertues, and is so beneficial to 
■lankinde." The part which is left has no 
*^ vertues" at all. A palmate root is a kind 
of tap-root, divided ;into several conical por- 
tions like the fingers of a hand. It is seen in 
aome species of orchis. Some roots are 
called Mttorted, because much twisted, or 
deformed, or bent back on themselves; 
others beaded, because they reaemUe a 
airing of beads ; and others, again, granu- 
iai9df from consisting of a number oi small 
loqnd bo4ieiy ^Mtered together. 

Let ua DOW take a look at the relatioir 
which exists between roots and the aoil in 
which they grow. Some kinds of. plants 
do not grow well on the aame ground, for 
many repeated crops. On this account, it 
has been thought tnat each plant requiroa 
a peculiar kind of nourishment, whi^> in 
time, becomes exhausted, and then that 
other plants should be put into that ^n^oiuMt 
in their stead. This is not true in its fttU 
extent; for plants of the same kind nsaj 
be made to grow in soils of very different 
kinds. Some have assigned the different 
shape of the roots as the reason why some 
plants succeed well after others. If a pear- 
tree be planted after a plum-tree, it doea 
well ; because (it is said) it strikes its roots 
more deeply. For similar reasons, it is said 
that plants, with creeping roots, ' succeed 
well after others with top-roots. 

Earths are fitted for the roots of planta in 
several respects. — 1. They are moist, and 
therefore do not injure the tender spongiolea 
and fibrils. 2. They are but littte soluble 
in water, and are not changed by the air y 
so that their permanency is secured. 3. 
The^ are not transparent, or they wouhl 
admit too much of the sun's heat; and 
light (which would injure germination) is 
excluded. The advantage of this is seen in 
the hyacinth, which, after having flowered in 
water, with its roots exposed to the light, 
must be put into the ground, to recover its 
exhausted energies. 4. They are of a dark 
Colour, so as to absorb the heat of the san» 
instead of reflecting it In this way a pro- 
per degree of warmth is secured ; and the 
attainment of this object is mudi facilitated 
by the addition of a fittle soot N. IL 

AccoEDiNO to Mr. Basnage, there were no 
synagogues until the reign of the A8nio«> 
neans, some few ages before Christ; arid 
which he supposes to have been founded by 
the zealous traditionibts, who, having made 
long commentaries upon the law, thought it 
a crime to keep the people in ignorance of 
them, and instead of confining their expli-^ 
cations to Jerusalem, where they .found 
themselves too much dighted and confined>^ 
they carried them into every city where 
there were oratories, and public places of 
assembly. Before this, private persons made 
these prayers to God in their houses, where 
they had a place set aside for that hcij 
exercise. It was generally upon the top of the 
house, which waa flat-roofed, that the Unuij^ 
and tJieir friends met together to read some 
portion of the law on the Sabbath-day : and^ 
when there*was any prophet in the city, the 
devout people assembled at his house. But, 
after that tne doctors had added their tra- 
ditions and commentaries to tlie law^ tho^ 
business of interpreters beoaoie neoeasa^. 



thoie trftfiitioiii not being wtiUtn, fo that 
the camber of interpreter! itnd interpreta- 
tions were continually increasing. For this 
reason convenient places were made choice 
ofi that the people mif^ht the better meet 
together to be instructed. 

Synagogues (says a learned divine) were 
public edmces, situated within and without 
their cities, and generally on an elevuted 
place ; they were usually raised above the 
private dwellings, except when there was an 
interdiction from the civil power, the Jews 
having a notion that it was a dishonour to 
God to have his house inferior or equal to 
those of men. They were always roofed and 
covered over, by which they were distin- 
guished from the Proseuche, which were 
generally in the fields, and open to the hea- 
vens. In the middle was a desk, or pulpit, 
made probably in imitation of that which 
Ezra made use of; and from whence the 
book, or roll of the law, was read very 
solemnly; and from whence both he that 
expounded it, or he that preached to the 
congregation, always delivered himself. At 
the upper end of the synagogue* and over 
against the door, which was always situated 
fadog the west, there was a chest, or press, 
wherein the book of the law was kep^ 
wrapped in a fine embroidered cloth. 
Dnnng the time of divine service, the wo« 
men were separated from the men, and 
seated in a gallery inclosed with lattices. 
Over the door, or entrance, was the following 
inscription : " This is the gate of the Lord, 
the righteous shall enter into it;** and on 
the walls in the interior were written the 
following sentences : *< Remember thy Cre- 
ator ; Keep thy foot when thou goest into 
the house of the Lord ; Silence is commend- 
ahb in the time of prayer." 

In the s3magogne service, the first office 
was prayer. Their prayers at first were but 
tew; but they have since increased to a 
great many, which occasions the service to 
be very long and tedious. What they 
reckon the most solemn part of their prayers 
are those which they call Shemofieh Esh" 
reth* which, according to the Jewish doc- 
tors, were composed and instituted by £zra, 
and the gpreat synagogue. These prayers 
are of the same nature as the Lord's Prayer 
in the Church of England service, that is, 
the fundamental and principal part; for, 
besides these, they have a number of prayers, 
some of which are used before, some after, 
and others dispersed between tiiem. They 
likewise read the ahemay the Alter, and the 
prophets. The shema consists of three por- 
tions of Scripture: the first is from the 
beginning of^the fourth verse of the sixth 
ehauter of Deuteronomy to the end of the 
ninth verse ; the second, from the berinning 
of the thirteenth verse of the eleventh ehap- 
tn of Deuteronomy, to the end of the 
^* The ei^teen prayeit. 

twenty-first verse ; and the third, from the* 
beginning of the thirty-seventh verse of the 
fifteenth chapter of Numbers, to the end of 
the chapter ; and, because the first of theae 
portions in the Hebrew version begins with 
the word shemot that is, hearf therefore the 
reading of the whole is called the reading of 
the ehemot which, next to the Shemoneh- 
Eshreth, is reckoned the most solemn part ol 
their religious service. 

The five books of the law were originalljF 
divided into fifty-four sections, because ia 
their intercalated years there were fifty-four 
sabbaths ; and, as they read a section every 
sabbath-day, the whole was completed in 
the space of a year ; but when the year wM 
no longer intercalated, those who had the 
direction of the synagogue-worship reduced 
the sections to the number of sabbaths, by 
joining two short ones several times into 
one, because they held themselves obliged 
to have the whole law, from the beginning 
of Genesis to the end of Deuteronomy, read 
over in this manner every year. 

In the persecution of Antiochus Epi^ 
phanes, when the reading of the law was 
prohibited, the Jews substituted fifty- 
four sections of the prophets, which were 
continued after the reading of the law was 
restored by the Maccabees ; the section 
which was read every sabbath, out of the 
law, served for the mi lesson, and the sec- 
tion out of the prophets for the second. 

When the Cfhaldee became the national 
language of the Jews, it was the custom pf 
the synagogue for one to read a paragraph 
in Hebrew, after which another interpreted 
it in the Chaldee. This, perhaps, was the 
cause of the sections of scnpture bising divi- 
ded into verses ; namely, that by this means 
the reader might know how much he was to 
read, and the interpreter how much he was 
to interpret, at every interval. 

It appears that uie ministration of the 
synagfogue service was not confined to the 
sacerdotal order; the priests were conse* 
crated onljr to the service of the temple^ 
which consisted chiefly in offering up of sa- 
crifices and oblations; but any one was 
considered qualified for the performance of 
the synagogue service, who had a knowledge 
of the law and the prophets. 

There were a number of officers attached 
to the different synagogues, among whom 
were those who the New Testament desig- 
nate as rulers of the synagogue : but we 
are not informed how many of these be- 
longed to each synagogue; only we may 
presume that there were more than one, by 
their being mentioned in the plural number 
in respect of the same synagogue. Next to 
them, and perhaps forming one of their 
number, was the minister of the synagogue, 
called in Hebrew SheUaeh Zibber,i who 
offered up to God the public prayers of th« 
t The angel of the ehardk .,' 



congrej^Hiion. Then followed the deaconti 
and inferior minUters, called in Hebrew 
Chazanim,^ who were under the rules of 
the iynagogae. Their business wm to keep 
the books of the Holy Scriptures, the litur- 
gies, and the utensils which they brought 
iorth, und carried away again n;* there was 
occasion. Alter thtwe was the i«terpn»ter, 
whose oiBc« was to recite the lessons in 
Chaldee, after they had been read in He- 
brew ; and, as it required a good deal of 
skill in both languages for sucn an under- 
taking, whenever the rulers of the synagogue 
found a person with the requisite qualifi- 
cations, they awarded him a salary, and he 
became a minister among them. 
' The synagogue worship was appointed to 
take place three days a-week, and three 
times »-day on their fasts and festitals; 
namely, in the morning, in the afternoon, 
and at night. And, when at any of these 
times the blessing was to be given, if there 
was no priest present to perform the office, 
the Sheliach Ztbder rend the prayers in the 
form of a benediction ; after which he dis- 
missed the people. 

W. G, C. 
• Overseers. 


Thb late Chinese scholar and missionary, 
was bom in April, 17^8, at Westbury Leigh, 
in Wilts, of an obscure paretitHge, but traced 
his descent back to an officer in Oliver Grom- 
WelTs army, and who, at the restoration, 
abandoned the service. 

The father of Dr. Marshman was originally 
a tailor, but settWd at Westbury as a weaver, 
aud married there. At the age of eight, 
young Marshman displayed an extreme pro- 
pensity to reading.; his studies, though from 
his <Jircumstauces necessarily desJtiltoiy, were 
unremitting. H« would often travel ten or 
twelve miles to borrow a book. At the age 
bf twelve, his memory and accurate know- 
ledge of history were astoutshiiig. This 
faculty he retained to the last. At fifteen he 
Was placed with a bookseller in London ; at 
seventeen, he returned to fhe country ; and 
by the time he was eighteen years of age, he 
had perused more than five iumdred volumes. 

He now studied Latin, and applied himself 
to reading works on divinity, without any 
distinction of sett. At twenty-three Jie 
married Miss Glatke, the daughter of a Bap- 
tist minister, atid at twenty -five succeeded 
in obtaining a mastership in a school at 
Bristol, with a salary of forty pounds per 
ahniim. His leisure hours were occupied t^ 
a school of his own, and Mr. Rich, the late 
learned and assiduous British Consul at 
Bagdad, was one of hiSvpupils. Marshman 
subsequently entered as a student at Br. 

Ryland*s Baptist Seminary, where he ap{>Ued 
himself to Greek, Hebrew, Syriac> and 

In 1799 he went out as a missionary to 
join Dr. Carey in India, and landed at Se- 
rampore in October of that year. The mia- 
chiefs created by excess of missionary zeal in 
various places, were, however, a subject of 
just apprehension to Lord Wellesley at that 
time : and the more, as several French priests 
were acting as emissaries of their government 
in India, and an invasion of the English 
dominions there was expected. A whimsical 
error added to those suspicions : the arrival 
of Marshman was announced as that of a 
Papist, instead of a Baptist missionary, and 
the vigilance of Lord Wellesley refused the 
ship a port-clearance, unless the captain 
would en^ge to take back the obnoxious 
Papist. The mistake was explained ; but 
Marshman, with his companiims, found it 
more eligible to remain under the shelter of 
the Danish authorities. Dr. Carey soon after 
joined them, and hence originated the Seram- 
pore mission. 

The difficulties experienced previous to 
obtaining the charter of 1813, which granted 
free access for missionaries to India, had 
probably the salutary effect of restraining the 
superabundant zeal of that class generally, 
and which has led to such disastrous results 
in places where the vigilance of the authori- 
ties has unhappily slumbered. The conduct 
of the joint-labourers. Ward, Mai:shman, and 
Carey, was, however, above all praise ; and, 
in addition to his sacred duties, the subject of 
this notice undertook in 1806 the study of 
Chinese, and published subsequently a trans- 
lation of the Scriptures into that tongue, and 
also a grammar. He principally contributed 
to the efficacy of the Loll-Bazar Chapel in 
Calcutta, by going from house to house to 
solicit contributions, for which he was per- 
sonated ^' as a pious missionary begging 
subscriptions'' at a masqued ball given to 
Lord Minto. The jest was extrenyily suc- 
cessful, and the pious representative was 
said to have reaped an ample harvest by his 
ingenuity. Marshman, who appears to have 
viewed the matter in a serious light, and was 
piobably ignorant that similar freaks ii^ Eug* 
laud have bad equal success, endeavouieil idly, 
but with honest simplicity, to discover Jus 
rival of an hour, and render him a felloin- 
labourer of the vineyard in earnest, by iodi^ 
ing him him to refund his acquisitions, J^e* 
Leydon, however, thoifgh acquainted with the 
name of the pseudo^missionary, woul4 never 
disclose it, and seems io have considered the 
afiair in it^i real light. This appeal^ to havf 
o£fended Dr. Marshman. > 

. The establishment of the admirable Bene- 
volent Institution; at Calc^tt^ was the joini 
work of Leyden/ Hare, .^nd Mar^hmai^s th^ 
latter became. ^ecr^jtdi^> and retained the 



oflSce during^ his life. Hd also assitited Dr. 
Carey in translating the three volumes of the 
Ramayuna, published in English. 

In 1826 he returned to England, and urged 
every where, in public addresses while travel- 
ling throughout the United' Kingdom, the 
cause of missions. He thence proceeded to 
I>euniark, and received from Frederick VI. a 
Charter of Incorporation for the College of 
Serampore, to which he returned in May, 
1829. His exertions iu the sacred cause of 
religion were unremitting to the last, though 
his mind was deeply affected by the demise 
of Dr. Carey, in June, 1834, after a close 
co-operation of thirty- five years; and the 
painful death of his daughter, Mrs. Haveland, 
in October last, gave a final blow to his s]rs- 
tem, from the efl'ects of which he never tho- 
roughly rallied, and he died at Serampore, on 
the 5th of December, 1837, in his seventieth 

Tall, strong, and of an iron constitution, 
Dr. Marshman braved the climate of India 
without any ill effects. He rose at four to 
commence the business of the day. His 
knowledge and amiability rendered him a 
delightful companion; to his inferiors he 
conducted himself with gentleness and hu- 
mility ; and as a husband and a parent, he 
was unsurpassed, and unsurpassable. Mrs. 
Marshtiian, who died, we believe, about ten 
years before her husbaud, bore him twelve 
children ; five of whom have survived their 

Piety, firmness, energy, and perseverance, 
were the characteristics of Dr. Marshman. 
To the labours of the mission, he was a de- 
votee without bigotry ; and evinced singular 
personal disinterestedness in all pecuniary 
matters. — Foreign Quarterly Review, 

9tuctrote ^alln^. 

'anscdotss of eminent persons: trans- 

RABBI.AI8. — On Du Bellai's embassy to the 
Pope, Rabelais was, along with the cardinal, 
presented to the holy lather. Du Bellai, ac^ 
cording to custom, prostrated himself, aud 
knsed the papal toe. Rabelais, perceiving 
ihis, withdrew, not as it were surprised, but 
confused. Du Bellai, somewhat indignant 
at this proceeding, asked him the cause of 
this breach of homage due to his holiness ; 
to which question Rabelais replied : <' As 
you, who are my master, have kissed the 
pope's toe, I am at a loss to imagine what 
you would have me kiss ?*' 

Rabelais being compelled to quit Rome, was 
determined to have a comfortable journey of 
it back to Paris. For this purpose he hit 
upon a stratagem, which to any other but 
himself would undoubtedly have proved fatal. 
Having reached Lyons, he asked for a pri- 

vate ajtartment^ and a boy who knew how to 
read and write. He then made several little 
parcels of the dust and soot in the fireplace ; 
having done this, he made the boy label 
them severally, with the following words: 
'* Poison for the king,'* <' poison for the 
queen,'' &c. When this was all done, and 
each parcel wrapped up neatly, and bound 
witli silk, Rabelais, with a most mysterious 
face, said to the boy, " Now mind, my little 
friend, don't you go and say an^hing about 
this, will you .'" The boy promised silence, 
but of course five minutes aiter br(^ it, and 
whilst he was eating his dinner revealed the 
whole secret. The frightened landlord im- 
mediately denounced his g^est to the propeir 
authorities — Rabelais was seised, and duly 
escorted to Paris. Arrived in the town, he 
disclosed himself, and requested an audience 
of the king. It was granted, and the mo- 
narch, on l)eing made acquainted with this 
bold proceeding, it is said, laughed exceed- 
ingly, and often related the anecdote. 

Albert Durbr. — Maximilian I. one day 
requested Durer to draw some figures agunst 
the wall. Perceiving that the painter was 
not sufficiently tall to reach the higher parts 
of his drawing, he ordered one of his officers 
in waiting to serve him as a stool ; the officer 
was obli^ to prostrate himself, and allow 
the artist to stand on his back. 

Philip IV. having been deprived of Por- 
tugal, as well as several other provinces, not- 
withstanding these losses, took upon himself 
to assume the title of <' Qreat," which caused 
the Duke of Medina to observe, <* His ma- 
jesty may be compared to a ditch, the more it 
loses, the greater it gets." 

MoLiERB. — " I see," said Louis XIV. to 
Moliere, *' that you have now got a physi- 
cian. What does he do for you ?" — <* Your 
majesty," answered the poet, " we talk toge- 
ther very amicably ; he prescribes me a tole- 
rable quantity of physic, I dont take it, and 
I get well all the sooner." 

Voltaire. — J. J. Rousseau was one day 
showing his " Ode to Posterity '' to Voltaire ; 
*' Do you know," said the sage, *' I am afraid 
your '* Ode " will never be forwarded to its 

Henri IV. — Fatigued with a long jour- 
ney, Henri IV. signified his intention to 
make a short stay at Amiens. He was met 
by the inhabitants, at the head of whom 
stalked a most self-important orator. He be- 
gan his speech in the following strain: — 
*^ Most mighty, most clement, most magna- 
nimous . . . ." — " Ay, ay," added the mo- 
narch, ^' you may say very hungry too." 

Frederick tub Great. — During the 
American war, Franklin was sent to the 
Prassian court, to solicit assistance. << What 
would you do with my assistance V* said Fre- 
derick. « Sire, fight for liberty."—" Doc- 



tor,** Answered the king, << I Am a monareh ; 
you* will not be siirpni^ that I tevA. unwilling 
te do .injury to the profession.'* 
' FuBi>ERicK.^Inthe most critical period of 
the seTed y ears* war, one of bis soklien deserted; 
he Was taken, and restored to his rei^ment. 
" Why did yon leave me ?^ -said .Frederick : 
'* Sire," answered the soldier, " your mft)e»> 
ty's affairs looked so bad, that. I thought it 
safest for me to desert. ** — "Well, just stop 
till to-morrow, we are going to have au action, 
if they do not look any better, we will both 
desert together, there.*' 

Frederick was excessively fond of dogs, 
and had Always a number about him. His 
study, wan strewed with small leather bulls to 
amnsethem, and whenever any of them were 
ill, he had them most carefully att«ude<l to. 

Joseph II. — During the en;peror Joseph 
Il.'s journey throujjh' Italy, one of the wheels 
of his carriage sustained -some damage. It 
was with a good deal of ffouble that he suc- 
ceeded in reachiiig the nearest village. . He 
sto|>|;^' at a blacksmith's, and requested 
him A6 'mend his carriage aa quickly as pu«- 
sible. '** f would do it most willingly,'^, said 
the blacksmith, '' but everybody is gone to 
mass ; I haven^ even anybody to work the 
bellows."— ;'< Never mind that," answered 
the emperor, " come, I will blow." . The 
monarch accordingly worked the bellows, the 
smith hammered, and all was presently right. 
** Well, what is your charge ?**^" Nine sous." 
Joseph put nine ducats into the smith's 
hand, and off he went. The astonished 
blacksmith ran after the carriage, crying out, 
*' Sir, Sir, you have made a mistake, 1 coiud nut 
change this in the whole village.''— " Change 
them where you can ; the overplus \h fur the 
pleaisure I have had in working the bellows.** 

Louis XVI. — After Louis XVI. 's second 
appearance at the conventional bar, he re- 
turned in the mayor's coach. During the 
journey, the master of the rolls kept his hat 
on : " The last time you were with uh/' said 
the king, " you had forgotten your hat^ you 
have been more careful this time." 

Charles XI f. — The only occupation of 
this monarch at Bandee, was riding on horse- 
hack inspecting and mantsuvring his troops. 
ThoKC who were desirous to please him, fol- 
lowed him, and were booted the whole day. 
One morning, he entered the apartment of 
his chancellor^ Mtlllem, whom he found 
still asleep. There was a large fire in the 
room, and several pairs of shoes here and 
there. The king threw them all in the fire, 
and went away. On awaking, the chancellor 
inouired the cause of the smell in his room : 
<' what a king !" said he, on being made a& 
quaiuted with the reason, ^' chancellor 
must be in his boots the whole day." 

Philip II., king of Spain, once found him- 
self withont any of his -retainers at the Escu- 
lial. A gentleman, who did not know him, 

begged hint to show him the levetal^aiKios^ 
ties of th6 palace. The king dieetfttU^'jaf^ 
quiesced^ and when all had been sieeiiy.^ 
gentleman «aid, ** Sir, my nam^ is/tfo^ <daf» 
cias Torelto, and I reside at Coruiina i wheft 
you Come that way I shall, be di^i^titeirii^ 
see you— I'll let you taste my best wiAa?^ 
"You are veiy good," answered the* tiil~** 
"Am for me, my name is Philip, I am ^ 
of Spain and of both the Indies ;'kndM 
yon come to Madrid, 1 hope you will pl^h 
a tisit— you may depend upon it, you 
taste my very best wine." 

AuousTVS, king of Poland, had «wf% 
during. a convocation of various powc^ ii| 
Dresden, invited many of the most .^i^'^to 
guished personages there assembled. Ch^jji^ 
pagne on this occasion was by no mefiilp 
scarce. One of the piiges in attendaoce^ff 
the king, managed dexterously oooui^li^^' 
slip one of the littles into his hind iioclML 
which, as coats used then to be worn, win m 
sufficient dimensions to admit anothfr if o^ 
cessary. Busy, however, as he was, he foiw|t 
it impossible to rid himself of the sparkliM 
^quor; by being constantly swiing to afjd'JSt 
it began to ferment, then tW dBferyesce ai^ 
pop 1 out ^me the cork, &Ulowed by a tiea% 
tiful shower of the then ungen^'us Hqnof;. 
His maieisty's wig had its share of tlus win«^ 
Astonished and terrified at the consequences 
of his rashness, the poor page threw himself 
at the king's feet, imploring for meicy. The 
king, apparently unoffended, said, smiling, 
** Fetch me another wig — another time, 
don*t keep champagne about you so long ; if, 
is a little stronger than your l)eer at Dree- 
den." H. H. ;. 

Nature is industrious in adorning her domi- 
nions ; and man, to whom this beauty is ad- 
dressed, should feel and obey the lesson. Let 
hini, too, be industnou» in adorning his do- 
main — in making his home, the dwelling of 
his wife and children, not only convenient 
and comfortable, but pleasant. Let him, as 
far as circumstances will admit, be industrir 
oiM in surrounding it with pleasant ol^ects*-^ 
in decorating it, within and without, with 
things that tend to make it agreeable and at> 
tractive. Let industry make home the abode 
of neatness and order — a place which brings 
satisfaction to ever} inmate, and which in aib^ 
sence draws back the heart by the fond asiM)- 
ciations of comfort and content. Let this be 
done, and this sacred spot will become more 
surely the soene of cheerfulness and peace. 
Ye parents, who would have your children 
^Appy> ^ industrious to bring them up in 
the midst of a pleasant, a cheerful, and a 
happy home. Waste not yonr tiqie in aoca- 
mulating wealth for them ; but plant in Ibeir 
minds and souls, in the way proposed, the 
seeds of virtue and prosperity. 





That there wins a castle here before the 
Conquest) appears from the surrey of dooms- 
day book, in which it is stated, that the 
king had this castle by an exchange made 
with the archbishop and the abbot of St. 
Aagostine's. Before this, there is no men- 
tion made of any castle here, not e?en by 
our ancient historians, in their relations of 
their several sieges of this city by the Danes, 
in which as to every thing else they are very 
.particular. The most probable opinion is, 
that the present building was one of those 
many castles or fortresses built by William 
the Conqueror, for his better subduing and 
bridling those parts of the kingdom which 
he most suspected, to several of which it 
has a very similar appearance. It had a 
bayle or yard, surrounded by a wall and 
ditch, both of which remained on the east 
side of it until very lately ; but in 1792, the 
most considerable part of the boundary wall 
was demolished. The outworks were not 
so well built as the tower itself, and were 
become rotten, and mouldered even to rub- 
bish, whereas those of the castle remain 
firm and solid as the stone itself. The 
ditch is mostly filled up, the only part now 
visible being that which was the city ditch, 
on the south side. The passage from the 
city to the castle was anciently by a bridge, 
and beyond that a g^te, built at the north 
entrance of ^e bayle ; and on the opposite 

side, towards the country, in the wall of it, 
it being the city wall likewise, was the an* 
cient city gate, called Worthgate, the re- 
mains of which were nearly entire till within 
these few years, whea it was taken down 
and removed into the gfarden of a neigh- 
bouring citizen ; the appearance of it car- 
ried a greater show of^ antiquity than the 
castle itself, in the perfectly circular arch of 
long British or Roman bricks of grea.t 
strength and beauty. This arch was repaired 
some ^ears ago, out of veneration for its 
antiquity, by Dr. Gray, an eminent physi- 
cian of Canterbury.^ It was supposed to be 
one of the most entire Roman arches in the 
kingdom. The ground on the side next the 
casUe had risen to within eight feet eight 
inches of its summit ; it was made entirely 
of bricks, set edgeways, each fifteen inches 
and a half long, and one inch and a half 
thick ; the diameter was twelve feet three 
inches and a half, and the base within 
twelve feet six inches. Through this gate 
the passage seems to have led in the time of 
the komans, over the stone-street way, to 
the portus lemanis, and afterwards as the 
public way to the city, to Ash ford, and else* 
where, until it was diverted by another 
course, and this gate reserved solely for the 
use of the castle, and as such it continued, 
till at Wyatt's insurrection, in Queen Mary's 
refgq, when it was closed up for the better 



securit} of the cu8lle from uny lussaulU in 
the^e critical and dangerous times. 

There was anciently a common prison or 
gaol kept in thi» castle, which was the 
principal one in the coanty. The prison 
was removed from hence probably, Mr. 
Somner thinks, in the reign of King Henry 
Vill., before which time the assises for the 
(X>anty were frequently held here. From 
the above time, the castle seemn to have 
been neglected, and to have fallen to ruin, 
^ind no farther use was made of it. The 
remains of it at present are only the out- 
ward quadrangular walls, seemingly not near 
their former height, built with rubble stones, 
and a great many British and Roman bricks 
interspersed among them ; they are of an 
extraordinary thickness, with quoins and 
small circular windows and loop holes, 
cased with ashelar stone. The keep mea- 
sured 88 feet in lenelh, and 80 in width, 
and the walls eleven feet thick. 

The engraving annexed to this descrip- 
tion, is an accurate representation of the 
present state of this ancient building, which 
18 now -made use of as a repository, by 
the gas and water works company for the 
stowage of the gas and water apparatus. 
Near the castle several good houses have 
been erected, besides the gasometers and 
gas works for the supply of the city. — 
Muctracted from fVard's entertaining Can- 
terbury Guide, 


[Exemplifying the trut|i of the adage, 

Some ten or twenty years ago, there lived 
near Loudon, in Franklin county, Pennsyt. 
▼ania, a poor decrepit widow, who had a sou 
and a daughter. They were miserably desti- 
tute ; aud the mother, by the most humble 
employments, procured a scanty subsistence 
for her children. 

Elias was about twelve years old, and 
much deformed. From the elbow to the 
wrist, the left ann projected at a right angle, 
while the hand hung helplessly from the 
wrist. The other arm was deformed, but 
less so than the left, aud he could use them 
both to a limited extent. The muscles of his 
left cheek were drawn over the jaw-bone as 
if contracted by the palsy. The left eye 
shared in the deformity. One shoulder was 
an inch or two higher than the other. His 
speech, al><o, was affected to such a degree 
as to render him partially unintelligible to 
strangers. Nevertheless, Elias possessed a 
mind of unusual acuteness for a boy in his 
dass of life ; a kind, affectionate heart, and 
an amiability of temper, the equanimity of 
which nothing could ruffle or disturb. 

Hie infirmities oi the widow now assailed 

her so rapidly, that she was under the ne- 
cessity of informing her children, with many 
bitter tears, that she would be unable to 
save them from famishing the approaching 
winter ; and that when cold weather came, 
the^ would all have to be dependent on the 
parish for support. The proud spirit of Elias 
was roused— be could not brook the idea of 
becoming a pauper, and he said — " Mother, 
I can't bear that— I won't go to the poor- 
house. I can do something to help you and 
sister Catherine, and we*il try to get through 
next winter, and then I'll be older, and we 
may do better yet.** 

Elias had taken his resolution to '* do some- 
thing," and the only question was whait he 
could do to save his mother and sister from 
stai?ation, or, what he tliought a greater 
calamity, the poor-house. 

At that time Penusylyania was flooded 
with Yankee pedlers, who sold tin ware, 
wooden clocks, dry goods, <fec. The great 
turnpike-road leading from Philadelphia to 
Pittsburgh, passes through Loudon ; and, in- 
asmuch as Loudon is situated at the foot of 
the Tuscarora mountain, the pedlers were in 
the habit of stopping to water their horses 
before they began to ascend, and sometimes 
remained there all night. A pedler never 
loses an opportunity to swap a horse, or dis- 
pose to advantage of his wares ; and, there- 
fore, ;Elias had numerous opi)ortunities of 
observing the acuteness, almost intuitive, 
with which they drove a trade, and the moral 
certainty of their getting the best of the 
bargain. Elias also judged that it must be a 
profitable business, or else so many would not 
be engaged in it; and he was satisfied. of the 
fact when be saw them return from the west, 
ladeu with feathers, cotton, &c., and three or 
four led horses alongside the wagou — much 
finer animals than the crasy, spavined beasts 
with which they had journeyed west. 

However, Elias mtut do something ; and, 
after some hours of reflection, he determined 
to turn pedler. But where was his wagon or 
his horse ? He had neither materials nor a 
cent to offer for them, and his bodily infir- 
mities prohibited him from carrying a pack 
on his hack. But, even if this difficulty wan 
overcome, where were his goods on which to 
make the profits which were to alleviate the 
misery of his mother and sister ? Nobody 
wotdd credit a boy who looked a beggar, 
though he felt a man. Elias was in a di- 
lemma ; but he fancied he heard those that 
were alone dear to him on earth, moaning for 
bread, and the poor-house stared him in the 
face. " Necessity is the mother of inven- 
tion,'' and Elias fell upon a plan which 
appeared to him to dissipate all the evils 
which threatened to crush hirii. He deter- 
mined to make himself a little wagon, with 
wooden wheels, (^he was too poor to buy iron,) 
and then, with a strap throwu across his 



shoulder, he could haul it about the countiy, 
and hawk his goods among the neighbours. 
His reitolutiou taken, he began the work, and 
being aided by a benevolent wagon-maker in 
the vicinity, the little machine, about the 
siie of a market-basket, was constructed and 
equipped for a trip among the farmers. 

But now an obstacle, the most trying to 
Elias's sensibilities, had occurred, and he 
must overcome it, or all his labour and all his 
hopes must vanish for ever. He was well 
aware of the disadvantages under which he 
laboured. He knew very well that a man 
•btains credit in proportion to his supposed 
ability to pay ; and now could anybody sup. 
pose a boy who had not clothes to cover him 
**'Who was looked upon as half an idiot — 
deformed and imbecile— and whose mother 
was in abject poverty, could pay for goods to 
fill such a cart a^ that ? He cast about how 
he should fill his wagon, for winter was 
approaching, and he was diffident of success 
--but something' must be done. He still 
hoped heaven would help those who wished 
to do good. He resolved to apply to one of 
the village storekeepers who was the least 
likely to refuse him, and throw himself on 
his mercy. His story was favourably received, 
imd the incipient pedler*s wagon filled with 
lefuse calicoes, pins, needles, tapes, thread, 
coarse combs, &c. And now bt^liold the little 
hiiiie pedler, of twelve years old, with his 
leather strap across his shoulder, dragging 
his woodeu wagon alont; the turnpike, seek- 
kig the first avenue to the country where he 
tcould find farmers and farmers* girls to 
tirhom to tell his story and sell his wares. 
< la a few da}'s Klias returned, having dis- 
posed of his stock of merchandize at some 
profit, with which he relieved the immediate 
necessities of his mother, whose expenses in 
the intei^im Were diminished one-third, inas- 
much as she had -not to feed Elias. He 
WMnptly paid the merchant the price of his 
ibrmer venture, and with the resjidue of the 
profits not required for other purposes, he 
paid cash for a few articles, and then laid in 
the balance of his new stock on credit, and 
started again on his weary, lonely round. A 
lew tnps enabled hiiu to set up for himself^ 
that is, he paid for all his stock in cash, 
whereby he procured it at a lower price, and 
his profits were proportionably increased. 

But winter had now set in, and Elias was 
gradnaUy sinking under protracted exertions, 
which had made visible inroads upon a slen- 
iter frame and fragile constitution. With 
impaired health, he was unable to undergo 
the fatigue and exposure of a winter cam- 
paign ; but he was too poor to be idle. His 
means would be exhausted by spring, and he 
would have to begin anew. 

But how to Overcome the difficulty was the 
qnestion. He had neither horse nor wagon. 
jKly hit upon an expedient which succeeded to 

admiration. He recollected that tliere were 
a pack of cur dogs infesting the village, 
whom their masters would, no doubt, be 
willing to get rid of on any terms, phort of 
being their executioners. Ely's mind was 
fixed, and he set at>out accomplishing hit 
design with laudable celerity. A tongue 
with a staple at the end was soon fixed in the 
wagon, and two miniature whiffletrees were 
attached with the aid of his former patron, 
the wagon-maker. A few old pieces of rope 
supplied the harness, and three curs, which 
had been a nuisance to the settlement, consti- 
tuted the team. He experienced some diffi- 
culty in breaking the dogs to harness. But 
Ely's habitual perseverance overcame all diffi- 
culties; l>esides, he was a severe discipli- 
narian. He well new the meritorious pro- 
perties of flagellation, and when soothing 
failed, he applied his leathern-thonged whip 
to such purpose, that he soon subjected the 
unruly tiio to obedience. 

Thus accoutred, Ely sallied forth with a 
well-filled wagon. 0e was now relieved from 
the toil of dragj^ing his wagon himself. He 
could extend his excursions oeyond his former 
limits, and with greater rapidity. The no- 
velty of the retinue, and Ely's filial affection 
becoming known, he soon disposed of his 
cargo, and returned home once more. In 
the meantime, the great object was accom- 
plished. Those he loved were relieved from 
Immediate want, and Ely became dieerful 
and corimaratively happy. But he was not 
yet satisfied. The wagon dragged too heavy 
for the dogs. It was not sufficiently capa- 
cious for his enlarged trade, and besides his 
xope harness was worn out. He determined 
tQ have a larger wagon, with a cover to it, 
and a hasp and- lock to repel intruders, and 
spoke- wheels with irou tire. In addition to 
this he imagined that he could purchase 
stock to more advantage and at a cheaper 
rate iu the large cities than in the village ; 
and so he extended his excursions to Cham** 
bersburg and even to Baltimore. On the 
way he would trade with the farmers for 
butter, eggs, chickens, &c., which obtained 
a ready sale at the next town ; and he woukl 
lay in a new store of merchauUize to trade 
with the farmers he might meet on the way. 
Thus he made a double profit. 

His outre equipage attracted attention in 
Baltimore, and his story becoming known, 
some l>enevolent merchants supplied him 
with a stock of goods at first cost, and per- 
haps in some instances at less than cost, for 
many of the merchants of Baltimore have 
kindly hearts. But £lv, besides bringing a 
few dollars with him from I^oudon to meet 
contingencies, had greatly increased the value 
of his stock by ttaSic on his way. to the city, 
and his wagon was not able to contain one- 
half the merchandize he was able to buy at 
the prices offered. For a moment Ely did 



not know what to do> but his ingenuity did 
not fail him. He went about the dty and 
porchaied goods at the lowest price he could, 
paying cash as he went, and having taken 
them to the store of a merchant, who was 
p«!culiarly kind to him, had them boied up 
and tent to Loudon in a wagon, thus saving 
himself one hundred miles of a trip in case 
he wanted to buy more. 

He now determined to tiy his luck on the 
western vide of the Tuscaiora; and filling 
his wagon with a lelMt parcel of goods, he 
toiled t^ the mountain, occasionally aiding 
his dogs by pushing at the hinder part of the 
vehicle. At length he reached the summit, 
and, for the first time, beheld the noble cove, 
whiieh spread along its foot at either hand, 
while immediately beneath him lay M'Con- 
nelsburg, which looked in the distance like a 
iairy village. 

In a fow months Ely appeared in Bedford 
with a clever horse and a neat little wagon, 
well. stored with an assortment of goods to 
suit the market he sought He informed 

every boy who will irf to d6 something for 
himself, ** his poor old mother, and h^leis 
sister.** — New York Mirror, 

Ov all the sounds which music utters, none 
are so pleasing, so varied in expression, so 
capable of a££cting the feelings, so refined 
and delicate, and at the same time overpow- 
ering, as the human voice. A single voice 
with the compass of oul^ two octaves can 
express more than any mstmment or waj 
combination of instruments. Compared» 
indeed, with the tones of an instrument, the 
human voice seems like life, contrasted with 
inanimate nature. In singing, a soul seems 
to enter into sound and to give it life. 

The voice rises in quality of tone and 
variety of expression far above them all, and 
by the combination of a variety of voices the 
uttermost perfection of music is attained. 
We prefer the effect of a number of persons 
singing in harmony to that produced by any 
single voice, however fine. Never shul we 
.f K«m« '^J.Tnl"t^°* «n uuuw«u ^^^ ^^^ j^jj j^^ experienced in hearing 

' hW^K^^tr ''^'l tb?S'^««t ««le aria, thT" Fleuve de Tsge? 

blamed them for killing sheep. ^^^^^ ^^^ ^^ ^^ ^^ ^ ^^^„ J'^ 

me that after his last trip, being an unusual 
time at home, his dogs became restive, and 
tibe neighbours blamed them for killing sheep. 

To suspect a dog of such an oflRsnce is to seal 
his doom, and Ely's dogs, guilty or not guilty, 
were speedily executed, sane eerenumie, with* 
out judge or jury. <* Well,** continued he, 
<<.| thought I mttsf do something [to get 
along ; and I did not care much for the dogs 
no how they could fix it, for I was getting 
tired of them and thought I could do better 
if I had a larger stock ; and so I bought me 
this horse and wagon, and now I can do busi- 
ness on a large scale. I have laid in a good 
stock, and can trade with any Yankee of wem 
all, so I don't foar but I shall do well 

In a few months subsequent to Ely's 
appearance in Bedford with his wagon and 
heme, he was robbed on the Allegany moun- 
tain of nearly five hundred dollan in money 
and merchandise. Ely was a philosopher, 
however, and bore his loss with great equani- 
mity. He said he could do without it and 
make it up again, but he thought they were 
a pack of mean scamps to rob a poor cripple 
like him. The ruffians have never been 
apprehended, nor the property^ recovered. 
About a year ago I saw Ely in Bedford, 
master of a pair of fine horses and a large 
wagon well stored with merchandise, and he 
said he thought that that would be hb last 
trip— he was tired of pedling, and intended 
to sell his horses and wagon and set up a 
store of his own, that his mother was dead, 
he had provided comfortably for his sister, 
and he had money enough to go into business 
for himself. 

Such is the history of Elias Fisher, the 
dog-pedler; and such will be the rewud of 

music of <* Come rest in this bosom," sung at 
the Qymnase, in Paris, b^ two females. One 
of them sang the air with words, the other, 
the captivating Leontine Fay, sang at the same 
time with exquisite grace and skUl, an aeoom* 
paniment which sounded to us, like one of 
the prettiest variations to the air. Thej were 
unsupported by • any instrument, and the 
performance was completely unique, a perfect 
piece of art, yet so admirably executed as to 
conceal the art ; so that it was only by rea- 
soning that we could convince ourselves of 
the amount of skill diqilayed. 

The perfection of vocal music is undoubt- 
edly to be found in the choir of singers who 
perform mass in the presence of the Pope aft 
Home. In the selecrion and education of 
this choir, many things seem to be attended 
to, which are not thought of, or are impracti- 
cable in forming choirs elsewhere. The 
practice of employing eunuchs, which an- 
ciently distingmshed the music of the Pope*s 
chapel from that of all other churches, ii 
now, we believe, entirely abandoned, and the 
band is made up of persons of different ages, 
from childhood up. But besides this, we 
fancied, when we heard these wonderfol 
singers, that in choosing them, a distinction 
had been made which could be found nowhere 
else ; nanusly, that the performers had been 
selected not merely with regard to the nature 
of the voice, whether it belouged to bass, or 
tenor, or alto, or the quality, whether harsh 
or sweet; but also that attention had been 
paid to the character of the voice, the kind of 
tone it uttered, and the class of sound it pro- 
dttced. For example, one voice will be found 



dear, liquid, and tweet, like the flute or 
flatlet, another may have the brilliaucy of 
the clarionet, a third, the gentle sweetness of 
the oboe, a fourth, the rich reedy tone of the 
open diapason pipes in an orj^^an. It is well 
known that the union of these various kinds 
of sound, gives the peculiar chann to bands 
of musicians, and also to the full organ 
which combines them alL Now it appeared 
to us, that the same variety was found in the 
voices of the Pope's choir; and when all 
were singing at once the effect was like that 
of a full organ, while the solos reminded us of 
the different stops in the instrument played 
separately. The e£fect at the time was 
almost overpowering. The first time we 
heard them was at the Sistine chapel. They 
were stationed in a gallery or recess in the 
fli4e of the chapel, just large enough to con- 
tain them, and were not accompanied by 
any instrument whatever. When the Pope 
and the Cardinals had taken their places 
round the altar, above which was displayed 
Michael Angelo's celebrated painting of the 
Last Judgment, the singers entered silently 
and took their places. The first burst of 
sound was absolutely startling, it came at 
once in fiill strength like the burst of a full 
organ or a large orchestra ; each singer was 
perfect, the combination was perfect, and the 
varied sounds blended into one grand body 
of tone such as we never heard equalled. 
After chanting for perhaps an hour with the 
full strength of the choir, the music ceased, 
a few words were uttered by the Pope, and 
every one in that vast assembly sank to the 
ground. A death-like stillness ensued; when 
^ere came stealing on the calm a sound so 
soft, so sweet, so etherial, that it lingered on 
the ear for a moment, before it could be dis- 
tiguished by the senses to belong to mortal 
strains. This celestial sound swelled gra- 
dually to more complete distinctness, and 
then another voice, different in character, but 
e(|ually soft and sweet, was heard in harmony 
with it ; then a third, a fourth, and so on till 
the sound swelled to the full power of the 
choir. It seemed like the performance of a 
skilful organist ; we fancied him playing on 
the stop diapason of the swell organ, then 
drawing the dulciana, then the flute and 
hautboy, and thus adding stop to stop, till, by 
degrees, he came to the full power of the 
instrument. The effect of this music was 
utterly unlike any thing we had ever heard 
before. The choruses of the opera singers 
bear no resemblance to it, nor can the choirs 
of any other churches produce any similar 

This is the choir which performs the cele- 
biated " Miserere,'* by Allegri, of which we 
have such wonderful descriptions by travellers. 
The effects of this music are spoken of as 
completely overpowering; a whole congre- 
gation melted to tean, and many fainting 

an^ carried out. No one who hat heard the 
choir can doubt their power to produce such 
an effect. It has often been niade the sub* 
ject of wonder that no other choir could per- 
form the same piece with any thing like the 
effect given it by the Pope's singers. Many 
of the best choirs in Europe have attempted 
to perform it, but have unifonnly failed ; to 
that it has been imagined that there was 
some wonderful secret which the singers of 
the Sistine chapel were unwilling or forbidden 
to impart, by which they were enabled to give 
this magical puwer to the piece. Much of 
the effect, however, has been attributed to the 
time and place. The *' Miserere " is sung 
during the three days immediately preceding 
Easter, the awful commemoration of those 
days of darkness and horror, when the Savi^ 
our " descended into hell,'* and the hopes of 
man in eternity hung trembling in dreadful 
uncertainty, the world left in the reign of 
death, and no ray of light penetrating the 
gloopn of the grave. The Sistine chapel, 
where the service is chanted, is dimly lighted 
as the sun goes down, and the gigantic 
figures in the painting of the Last Judgment 
seem to diUte into new grandeur and terror 
l>y the sepulchral light of the tapers, which 
are extinguished one after the other, to repre- 
sent the desertion of the disciples in the last 
lu>ur8 of our Sav<our*s life. All this adds, 
undoubtedly, very much to the effect of the 
music ; but these aids might be had in other 
places. The wonder still remains, that no 
other musicians, however skilful, can execute 
the same piece with any power at all. 

Gardiner's Music of Nature. 


ixTEBioR OP APRioA, 2 vols. Colbwne, 
By CapUum Sir James Edward Alemander, K.L,S, ^c. 
" Avia Piexidiun peimgro Iocs, nvUius ante 
Trita solo ; juvat integrot accedere fontes, 
Atqoe haarixe ; Juvatque novos decerpere flcnref.** 

[Such is the elegant quotation prefixed to 
the introduction of this work ; and although 
we cannot admit the " Avia Pieridum ** to 
be exactly those paths which any one setting 
out from the Gape of Good Hope into the 
interior of Africa would be likely to tread in, 
inasmuch as we are not aware that the Muses 
ever wandered farther south into that portion 
of the globe than the city of the laughter- 
loving Terence, yet are we almost inclined to 
believe, from the pleasant familiar chit-chat 
of the author, that some one of the daughters 
of Pierus had met him on his way, and en- 
dowed him with her magpie propensities. 
We say this not in djsparagement, for on the 
contrary, his book is so amusing, that it in- 
spires its readers with light-heartedness and 
pleasinpf interest. To follow the track of one 
going into the wilderness with such courage 



and gaiefy, is of itself a treat ; and the eha* 
faeter of the gentleman and a soldier suffi- 
ciently warrant the detail, however occa« 
sionally novel, to be indisputable truth. He 
must, indeed, have passed over ground un- 
trodden by European feet ; under many a sul- 
try sun he has doubtless joyfully discovered 
and drank at an African fountain, and gazed 
with delight ai those gems which Flora scat- 
tered before his feet in new and fantastic co- 
lours. Sir James, at the commencement of 
his work, informs us, that having been in. 
vited by the Royal Geographical Society to 
undertake an African iScpedition of Disco* 
veiy, he consented to explore the regions of 
Eastern Africa extending from Delagoa Bay, 
westward, with a view to the extension of 
geographical knowledge and commerce. He 
embarked for that purpose on board H. M. S. 
Thalia, and arrived at the Cape of QooA 
Hope in the beginning of 1835; but finding, 
on his arrival, that the whole of Southern 
Africa was in a state of commotion, and that 
the Zoolahs had risen upon the Portuguese 
settlement at Delagoa, the place of his desti- 
nation, he postponed the intended geographi- 
cal research until after the conclusion of the 
Kafier war. Dr. Smith having arrived at the 
Cape, after passing over the ground behind 
Delagoa Bay and the country which the 
author had intended to visit, caused a change 
in the route originally laid down> and deter^ 
mined him on exploring the country to the 
north of the Orange river, on the wetit coast, 
so that he might become acquainted with the 
Damaras, a nation inhabiting between the 
21st and 24th parallels, and only known to us 
by report. He accordingly set* out on the 
10th September, 18.36, with seven men, well 
armed, and provided with all necessaries; 
and having crossed the Mopellmnk river, 
gives a proof, in his description ef the first 
sight of the field of his labours, of the gaiety 
with which he commenced them.] 
The Cape in September. 

There was nothing of the desert in the ap- 
pearance of the country at this season of the 
year; nor of aridity or barrenness observable; 
the face of nature being covered with a broad 
carpet of dark green, on which were patches 
of the most brilliant wild flowers. Cultiva- 
tion was confined to the immediate neigh- 
bourhood of the farm-houses. On our right, 
the snow-capped peaks of the Drakenstein 
mountains, rising two or three thousand feet 
above the plains, formed a most agreeable 
picture. The Cape lark rose near us, perpen- 
dicularly, on whirring wing, to the height of 
about thirty feet, gently descending with a 
prolonged whistle ; and all around us wore a 
delightful aspect of light and liberty. 

[But we shall go on, without much further 
comment, laying before our readers such 
points in the work as may l>e considered best 
calculated to interest them.] 

A Hotientoi Venu9 and novel pldte-warmen 
There is in this district a rival of the Hot- 
tentot Venus ; if she does not excel her in ths 
quantity of " cebaceous deposit." Rewarded 
by a trifle of money or tobacco, she will good- 
naturedly allow a cloth to be spread behind, 
and on which four plutes may be laid, thus 
forming a peripatetic table! 

Gross living of the Dutch* 

It is not to be wondered at that the Dutch 
are occasionally atmoyed with bowel com^ 
plaints, from the gross manner in which they 
swallow grease of all kinds, pouring spoonsful 
of melted sheeps' tail fat over their food, 
and heaping butter in lumps on their bread. 
A supply of butter 1 had bought at a farm- 
house to last OS ibr a week, disappeared at 
one sitting, l>efore two young boors invited to 
partake our evening meial. 

Dress of the Mamaquas, 

Many of the women wore a leathern girdle, 
from which in front was suspended part of a 
jackal's skiu with the fur outward, whilst be- 
hind dangled a square piece of stiff leather. 
Conical fur caps were on their heads, a ka-, 
rosse, or mantle of sheepskin, depended frona 
their shoulders, whilst sandals or buskins ol 
untanned leather were on their feet. In their 
hand they commonly bore a jackal's tail on a^ 
short stick, and with this Namaqua handker- 
chief they brushed the i>erspiration or dust 
from their eyes and face, and then dexterously 
twirled it between their palmsl 

. The men were thin and athletic, of an 
olive-brown complexion, and with short noses, 
pouting lips, and narrow but keen eyes ; theii 
general height was five feet six or seven, 

For arms, they had some old muskets and 
long gims obtained from the colony, (for 
four, six, or eight oxen each piece,) besides 
assegers or javelins, composed of a sleudis 
^haft, five feet long, with a small blade of 
iron inserted into the upi)er end, which waa 
bound round with leather — a knobbed stick, 
to throw at game, with which they are very 
dexterous — and bows and arrows ; the former 
is about three feet long, and is strung with 
the back sinews of deer ; the latter are com-, 
posed of a reed shaft, into which is inserted 
a polished piece of sharpened bone, ^hich is 
usually surrounded at the point with a black 
waxy-looking substance ; this is poison pre-, 
pared with gum from the milky sap of tha 
euphorbia, and it kills the game without 
destroying the wholesumeness* of the fleshy 
occasionally a few of the arrows have a barbed 
head of iron. Two dozen arrows are con- 
tained in a case of leather, or of the koker or 
quiver tree {aloe dichotoma.) 

The women wore skin petticoats, or the 
Namaqua broek karosse, consisting of a pre- 
pared sheep or goat skin, so arranged, as to 
depend from the waist in a broad oval flap 



behind^ and in fropt to be only « few ioche* 
in depth, whero alto a tortoise* shell, with a 
long fringe of leather thongs, was suspended ; 
this bunch of thongs reached to their ankles, 
and with it they sonaetimes chastised the 
children. The breasts were uncovered, strings 
of porcelain or glass beads were upon the 
neck, the woolly hair of the hend was care- 
fully concealed with a striped cotten hand- 
kerchief, though further in the interior a co- 
vering of softened leather is used ; from the 
shoulders hung an ample sheep-skin mantlei 
ornamented at the nape of the neck with a 
square piece of leather, on which, black and 
white chequers of goat-skin were sewed. 
They took off' the kaross when employed in 
any hard work. 

Lemguagejaf the Namaquas, 
The great Namaquas use the very same 
clicking dialect as the Little Namaquas do. 
Almost every word has an initial click, or has 
one in the middle of it, and some words have 
two clicks. The clicks are of three kinds : 
one is performed by striking the tongue 
against the palate and front teeth; another 
by striking the tongue against the centre of 
the roof of the mouth ; and a third by striking 
the tongue far back in the mouth. The word 
*un''u9tut (bulb) is an example of a word with 
two clicks (') in it. I need hardly add, that 
the language is one of great difficulty for a 
stranger to acquire and pronounce ; the clicks 
resembling one another so closely, and each 
conveying a different signification. 

Ct)e public S^oumalff. 


Can an observer of humdn nature have a 
richer field laid before him than a Court of 
Criminal Justice ? Amongst mankind there 
is nothing so solemn and affecting as — start- 
ling adumbration of hereafter! — man sit- 
ting in judgment upon his fellow man, 
Rearching, as far as nis means will allow 
him, into the hidden springs of action, 
protecting innocence from the imputation 
and consequences of guilt, detectmg and 
inflicting proportionate punishment upon 
guilt, even to the taking away of life itself ! 
There, at the bar — all eyes anxiously settled 
upon him — stands, in terrified or sullen 
silence, an individual whose conduct in a 
particular transaction is the subject of 
inquiry; who knows, and probably alone, 
among men, knows that he is guilty of the 
crime with which he stands charged ; one 
word from whose damp. and rigid lips would 
instantly clear np the whole mystery, supply 
the essential link of evidence, throw light 
on the darkest train of circumstances, and 
reconcile the most discrepant and incon- 
sistent facts. He stands cold and benumbed 
within the panoply of legal protection 
against self-crimination — knowing that not 

a sign or a syllable can be extorted from 
him. His heart, nevertheless, suddenly 
shrinks— the blood deserts, for a moment 
his flushed cheek— as his ^ilty soul feeli 
that his pursuers are pressmg, though in 
the dark, closer and closer npon the truth 
of the transaction I He is, perhaps, in^ 
wardly cursing himself for his folly in 
having said or done, or omitted to do, 
something while about the perpetration 
of his crime, which his accusers have got 
hold of, and are pressing home upon him^ 
and upon his jury, with dreadful strength 
of inference and conclusion. And there is 
his judge, well versed in such inquiries — 
the occasional glance of whose practiced 
eye, which he /eels upon him, shoots a 
thrill of terror into his soul, for he knowf 
that he has found him out, and that a few 
words of his will presently clear away the 

}>revious doubt and uncertainty that may be 
elt by the jury, who, charged with the 
issues of life and death, will soon utter the 
fearful word — 

" That summons him to heaven or to hell !** 

Blackwood's Magazine* 


In 1692, an advertisement in the Lon* 
don Gazette announces that *' the Italian 
lady, that is lately come over, that is so 
famous for singing,'' will sing at the coa«> 
certs, in York -buildings, during the season* 
In April, 1693, Signer Tosi, the author of 
the celebrated treatise on singing, advertises 
a concert ; and from that time the announce^ 
menta of concerts by Italian performers be* 
came frequent. The «< Itahan lady," an- 
nounced in 1693, as being so famous for her 
singing, was Francesca Margherita da 
l*£pine, the fir^^t Italian singer of any note 
who appeared in England. She came to 
this country with a Germnn musician of the 
name of Greber ; and hence we find her in 
some of the musical squibs of the day called 
** Greber's Peg." She sang in Italian operaii 
and at concerts, and other musical enter- 
tainments till the year 1 718, when she retired, 
and married the celebrated Dr. Pepusch. 
She was an excellent musician, being not 
only an accomplished singer, but an extraor- 
dinary performer or the harpsichord. She 
was so swarthy and ill-favoured that her 
husband used to call her Hecate, a name to 
which she answered with perfect good hu^ 
mour ; but her want of personal charms did 
not prevent her from enjoying the uninter- 
rupted favour of the public. By her nuu&- 
riage with Dr. Pepusch she brought him a 
fortune of 10,000/., a sum which, by ror 
lieving him from the daily cares and toils of 
his profession, enabled him to follow his 
favourite pursuit of learned researches into 
the history and antiquities of his art She 



was a penon of perfect reiq^tttlnKty, but 
nevertneleis was unceremoniouBly trecited 
by some of the writers of the day, who had 
DO loTe for foreign players and rousicians. 
She had a sister who came to England in 
1703^; and these ladies are thiu mentioned 
hy Swift, in his journal to SteQa :— '< Aug. 
6, 17X1* We have ai music meeting in our 
town (Windsor) to-night. I went to the re- 
hearsal of it) and there was Margarita and 
her sister> and another drab, and a parcel of 
fiddlers. I was weary* and would not go to 
the meeting, which I am sorry for, because 
I- heard it was a great assembly.*' The 
Dean frequently speaks of the mu^ic meet- 
ings at Windsor in the course of this season, 
always with spleen and an affectation of 
contempt, sapping, for example, ** In half an 
hour I was tired of their fine stuff,'' and so 
on, merely showing how little even a great 
maq can make himself by talking flippantly 
of what he does not understand. — Hogarth* s 
ihmmrs of the Musical Drama, 

Again tiw Ahniglity swks^ « £s< eilMV fitl^/l^ ^ 
The day from m^; m4 let tkembefor iigm 
For iea$o»s, awS^far day*, amd dreuag vear*,** 
And God nuule two great llshtt. great lot their use 
To Man, iXm greater to rale dv day, 
The leas by night. «ltem ; and made the 

And aow'd with them the Heaven, tl^ick aa a Add. 

18th.<-0n the '' fifth " day were Ibraied all 
fishes and birds. 

And OoD aaU, ** Let the watera grasaate 
Reptile with tpawn abundant, ming autft? 
And let fowl flv above tite earth, with winga 
Display'd on the open Armament of Heaven.** 
And OoD created the great whalea. and each 
Soul living, each that otepl* which nlenteoasly 
The wateff generated by their kinda; 
And every bird of wing after his kind ; 
And bleaaed them, saying. " lefhd^U mukipfy.** 

19th.— The « sixth" day brought into 
existence the more perfect aniaiala, beasts, 
and creeping things ; and 09 this day the 
Creator iashioned the first Man. 

The sbith, and of Greatk>n laat. aioae 

With *' evening " harps and matin ; when Ood said. 

Let the earth bring forth soul Uv^m; in her kmd. 

Cattle and creeping things, and Iwaat of the eatth 
in her kind ! The earth obey'd, and atraigfat 


Sept. 14th.— THE UNIYSMSAL qKBATlOW.— 

This sublime ** circumstance *' was now 
i^ioned out of Chaos. 

Let there be Light, said Ooo ; and forthwith Light 

Bthereal, first <^ thinga, qufaktesaence pnre, 

Sprung &om the deep : 

, . God saw the Uaht was good ; 

And light from darkneaa by the hcmiaphere 

Divided : light the day, and darkneaa night. 

He nam'd. Thus was the first day even and mom. 

< 15th.— The second day's work were the S."*** "****/ ^^**' 
e/Aerea/ elements. "" 

Opening her iSertile womb teem'd ai a birth 
Innumerable living creatures, perfiKct forma, 
Limb'd and full-grown; the "beast** aa ftram his 

2<>th.— Ths Birth-DAT of thx Wofcuiu 
The ^* seventh " day* ha^ been entitled by 
Piiilo, a Jewish writer, an universal festita^ 
or great << Sabbath *' of rest, which God 
blessed and sanctified. 

He resting, bles8*d and haUow*d the s 
' rftomallltiawi 
fehovahl Infinite 

Dth day. 

As reating on that day ftom all hia work. 

Great are thv worku, Jehovah I Infinite 

Thy power f what thought can measure thee, or 

Again, God said, ** Let there he Jin 

Jma the waten, tmdletit dkide 

The materifrom the VHiterti" and Gen made 

The flrtaameut. expanse of liquid, pure, 

Transpoient, Omental, air, diffua*d 

Of thie great round ; partition firm and sore. 

The waten underneath from those above 


16th.— The " thiid day's work was the 
perfect vegetation of the Earth. 
•* Be gather* d now ye waten under Heaven, 
Into one place* and let dr^ lamd appear.*' 
Immediately the mountauw huge appear 
Emergent, aud their broad baie backs upheave 
•Into the clouds ; their tops ascend the sky. 
Forth fiourish'd thiek the clustering vine, forth crept 
The swelling gourd, ud stood the corny reed 
Embattled in her field, and the humble shrub. 
And bush with frizaled hahr implicit ; laat 
Boae, aa in dance, tlie stately trees, and spread 
Their brandies hung with copious fruit, or gemmM 
Their blossoms; with high woods the hills were 

crown'd ; 
With tufts the valleys, and each fountain side ; 
With bovders long the rivers. 

17th.— The " fourth " day's work were the 
resplendent <tm, and angel stars, aud that 
fiur handmaiden of earth, the Moon. 
First in his eaat the glorious lamp waa aeen. 
Regent of day, aud idl the horizon round 
Invested with bright rays. Jocund to run 
His longitude through Heaven's high road ; the grey 
I>awn, and the Pleiwles, before him dauc'd, 
Khedding sweet infiuence; less bright ttie Moon. 


In the reign of Hem^ VIII. 6ier« wgf 
struck a small silver coio, of little vaUlc^ 
ddled a dandy prat ; which, observes BudM^ 
Fleetwood, was the origin of the term dandy, 
applied to worthless and contemptible per- 
sons. W. G. C. 

Mr. M— — , the arttat, was reading the 
paper the other day, while his boy, who had 
the daily task of preparing hiapok^ fur him, 
was rubbing-in the various tints, whm the 
boy suddenly stopped, and, with an anxioits 
look, said, ** Pray, Sir, I have heard so much 
about it, will you have the goodness to teH 
me, what is the colour o'morbus ?" 

• The Jews and Mohammedans do not measue 
the day from midnight to midniji^ht, aa we do, nor 
Arom sunrise to sunrise, as aome Oriental people, but 
from sunset to sunset Hence the night with the 
following day, and not the day with the following 
night, makea their day. Our Friday night is their 
Saturday night. Tlie ancient Celta, 6«tttla» and 
Germaua. measured the da; in the same manner. 

LONDON: Printed and ptAliihed bo J.LIMBIRD, 
143, Strand, {near Somerset House) ; and sold hy 
all Booksellers and Newsmen.— Agent i» P4RI8, 
O. fr. M. REYNOLDS, French, English, and Awe- 
riean Library, 55. Rue Neuve SL Augustin, PariSi^ln 

Zfft 0iivxov 


No. 912.] 


[Pkicb 2d, 




The baneful efifect produced by the continu- 
ance of numerous places of interment in the 
midst of crowded cities, is now generally 
admitted ; and the success of the cemetery 
at Kensal Green having proved that no 
prejudice existed in favour of the ancient 
churchyards, the spirit of speculation has 
' been directed to the establishment of ceme- 
teries in many parts of the kingdom. A 
Company has recently been incorporated 
by Act of Parliament, called the London 
Cemetery Company, who are empowered to 
establish cemeteries on convenient sites in 
the northern, southern, and eastern suburbs 
of the metropolis. We learn from the report 
made by the directors of the company to 
a general meeting of the proprietors in 
February last, that the prudential expendi- 
ture of the funds of the proprietary, and a 
wish to delay, if possible, making calls upon 
them, have directed, and for the present 
confined, operations towards the completion 
of the Cemetery at Highgate ; after which, 
the attention of the directors will be devoted 
to the formation of their southern and 
eastern cemeteries. 

The site chosen for the Northern Ceme- 
tery is on the southern slope of Hijgrhgate Hill, 
immediately beneath the new Gothic church : 
the space occupied at present is about four 
hundred yards in length, and two hundred 
and fifty in width. All per»-ons who are 
acquainted with the nortnern suburbs of 
London, will know that this is one of the 
most beautiful and picturesque spots in the 
vicinity of the metro^lis, commanding, not 
only a view of the giant city, but of many 
miles of the country beyond it. It may weU 
be supposed, that so eligible a spot would 
be decked with numerous villas and gardens 
belonging to gentlemen of opulence, to whom 
the establishment of a cemetery in the midst 
of their suburban retreats might be disagree- 
able, the directors of the company have pre- 
vented this feeling, by fully availing them- 
selves of the capabilities of the ground, to 
convert into a beautiful landscape-garden 
the walks and shrubberies, ascending one 
above the other, by artificial means, as well 
as by the natural acclivity. The buildings 
erected in different parts of the ground are 
highly ornamented, and of varied styles of 
architecture. The whole is laid out with 
such taste, under the direction of Mr. Da- 
vid Ramsay, the company's landscape-gar- 
dener, that, again to quote the report,, there 
is not a " shadow of probability that it will 
either injure the property, or annoy the feel- 
ings of the owners or occupiers of houses or 
land in the vicinity." 

We purpose giving a more detailed ac- 
count of the cemetery garden, the terrace, 
catacombs, and Lebanon sepulchres, with 
illustrations. The engraving annexed to 

this brief notice is a representation of the 
entrance to the cemetery from Swain's-lane. 
The large room over the gateway is lit by a 
bay window at each end ; from the roof 
rises a small octangular tower of three 
stories, surmounted by an ornamented dome, 
terminating with a splendid finial. The 
building to the right of the gateway con- 
tains the lodge and clerk's office ; that on 
the left forms a small but elegant chapel, 
the windows of which are beautifully orna- 
mented with stained glass. The whole of 
the buildings of the Cemetery are ezecuied 
from the designs, and under the superin- 
tendence, of Stephen Geary, Esq., an archi- 
tect whose taste and ability have been long 
and justly appreciated. 

Firom the Oerman ofSeMller, 
Fbxsh in the mora is the living breexe I 

And in the sunbeams bright. 
Through the swaying arms of the da^ fir-trees» 

And the tops of tl^ mountains. 

The forests and fountains, 

Keildeu and glow in a purple %Iit. 
The lark is abroad on her airy wing. 
And the wakened woods with melody ring 1 
Blessed the hour of early light I 

When meadow and stream 

With beauty gleam. 
And the grass is touched with a sdver white ! 
When the smallest leaf on the fruit-tree top 

Is a beautifbl nest where the pearl reposes. 
When showers of gems from the branches drop. 

And the zephyrs chat and play with the roees. 
Light smoke curls o'er the city's wall ; 
Steeds are neighing in valley and stall ; 
And the early birds are far away 
To bathe their wings in tlie dazzling ray, 
Joy to every thing beside; 
Wo and ill myself betide ; 
Peace for me is — where? Oh, where? 
In the grave— and only there 1 
The morn may waken brightly. 

And purple tower and <ree ; 
The evening air breathe lightly. 

While men sleep dreaminglv ; 
But in mom's first blash wiU the death-flower bloom. 
And the night-breeze sweep o'er my dreainlen.toffib. 

Tax sun is on the the waters, and the air 
Breathes with a stirring energy ; the plants 
Expand their leaves, and swell tiieir buds, and blonr. 
Wooing the eye, and stealing on the aonl 
With perfUme and \nt\\ beauty. Life a^nakes ; 
Its wings are waving, and its fins at play, 
Qlancing from out the streamlets, and the voice 
Of love and joy is warbled in the grove ; 
And children sport upon the springing turf. 
With shouts of innocent glee, and youth is fired 
With a diviner passion, and ^e eye 
Speaks deeper meaning, and the cheek ig filled 
At every tender motion of the heart. 
With purer flushmgs ; for the boundless power. 
That rules all living creatures, now has sway : 
In man refined to holiness, a flame 
That purifies the heart it feeds upon : ' 
And yet the searching spirit will not blend 
With this rejoicing, mese attractive charms 
Of the glad season : but at wisdom's siurine. 
Will draw pure draughts firom her unfrkthom'd well. 
And nurse the never dying lamp, that burits 
Brighter and brighter on, as ages roll. 



J 79 

MOUirr EtNA. 

(^From the French ofE. SM/veJ) 
I HAD hitherto fancied that Mount Etna was 
meiiely one single mountain, of stupendous 
dimensions ; the appearance it presents from 
a distance certainly seemed to justify the no- 
tion. On a nearer view, however, the eye is 
at ofiCe undeceived, and perceives that Etna 
is 6,a assemblage of volcanic hills, the highest 
of Which is the one at present open. Around 
this cone, and on the whole volcanic face of 
the mountain, above & hundred other craters 
may be counted, all of them now extinguished, 
HottttC Etna itself looking like a father sur- 
rounded by hi)i children, and reigning over 
them all by hb incomparable loftiness: 

The crater of Mount Etna, which is of an 
«vat form, injaX least three times larger than 
th^ of Vesuvius, and is not unlike a gigan- 
tic funnel, partitioned into two by an immense 
hesp of ashes and lava. These two mouths, 
thus formed, are of unequal dimensions, and 
tisch again divided into two, but by a parti- 
tioQ of a height much less considerable ; so 
ttiat these four openings ought not to be con- 
ndered as four difl^nt craters, but rather as 
the two Vents of the same common crater ; 
besides, according to all appearances, they 
k»n at the bottom of the surface, which may 
w seen. My guide, in leading me as close 
as possible to the orifice, rolled large stones 
down; they occasioned a ^considerable noise, 
which grew less and' less as they travelled on 
towards the bottom, and ended in a kind of 
lUmblfng sound, which after a few seconds 
entiiely subsided. Every time that he hurled 
one, he exdaimed, '< There gbes another one 
ft>r the devil !** The imagination, in efiRiCt, 
in seared, at thhiking of the heat and tor- 
itats of boiling lava which this fearful abyss 
omtains, and it is imitossible to fancy a more 
%htfhl Hell. 

After havingi contifttiplated this wonderful 
*id a#ful phenomenon, one can. scarcely be 
^ttrprised that there are still some of the in- 
habitants around this mountain, who impli- 
oXtf believe that the crater of Mount Etna is 
Otis of tiie g^tes of hell. The mafi, even, 
who is the most addicted to philosophical me- 
ntations on the phenomena of nature, cannot 
ttm himself with courage suflficieht to behold 
these sulphureous mouths, umnoved. It 
iBust strike him that he is approaching 
the dwelling of infernal deities, and that he 
>**y be chastbed for his temerity and pre- 
-emption in thus, daring to intrude on their 
fearM privacy. JJut on turning one's eyes* in 
the opposite direction, the imagination expe- 
riences a most delightful and unspeakable 
change ; then, the soul freeing? itself from its 
physical ties, enjoys all the pleasure of feel- 
ing itself isolated amidst scenes of the most 
gorgeous splendour, and the abseuce of all 
^liinan traces, appears to draw us nearer to 
the Btviuity. 

N 2 

It is from the height of the crater that I 
witnessed the most beautiful phenomenon 
that perhaps ever falls to the lot of man to 
witness. The risinfg of the son, horn the 
spot on which I stood, is altogether unlike 
any that I have ever seen before, either on 
the open sea or anywhere on land. Light 
and semi-draphonous clouds, which generally 
precede the ri^ng, announced to us by their 
gilded appearance that the horizon was about 
to be illumined by the approaching sun. In- 
stead of making its appeai^ance from the' sea 
as a disk, it first assumes the shape of a 
thin, pale crescent, darts an oblique rayon 
the summit of Etna, and again disappears in 
the gloomy depths of the ocean, and all is 
again iuvMved in utter darkness ; the next 
moment it is a^in seen, but larger, and 
seems to balance itself on the edge of the ho- 
rizon; it disappears again, and presently re- 
appears, and so till it presents its whole disk. 
On turning round to the west, a very different 
scene presents itself; near the horizon several 
stars may still be distinguished twinkling in 
the firmament; night's mantle is still cast 
over those distant parts ; at your feet is a vast 
plain of snow, bordered by black woods: Be- 
low, everything is either wrapped up in mist 
or darkness ; the whole of Sicily seems to 
form the basis of the mountain, and it is but 
on one side that light exists. On that side 
the waves and the horizon blend invisibly into 
each other by the spadding brightness of 
their colours ; and from the midst of this as- 
semblage of effUlgency and splendour, the 
sun rises majesticaily to illumine the woitd. 

The prospect enjoyed from the summit of 
Mount Etna is' so extensive and diversified, 
that it baffles all attempts at minute descrip- 
tion. Towns and villages appe-ar but as mime 
spots around Etixa; the whole looks like a 
geographical map. I was for some time at 
3 loss to distinguish the line of the sea-shore, 
the appteranctf it presents being that of a 
line traced horizontally id the sky. l*h& 
whole of Sicily is at the foot of the spectator ; 
a little farther, the gulf of Tarente and part 
of Calabria; towards the north the Lipari 
isles, aitd on the south the island of Malta, 
which may on a dear day be easily distin- 
guished with the naked eye, although at the 
distance of I5() miles. H. M. 

Rain without Clouds. — M. Arago has 
received a letter from M. Wartmann, that 
on the 31st of May last, at 7h. 2m., p.m., 
rain fell at Geneva for six minutem, though 
the sky was perfectly clear in the zenith, 
and no clouds in the immediate. neighbour- 
hood of it. At first the drops were large 
and the rain thick, but both became thinner 
towards the end. The rain was lukewarm, 
and the thermometer just above the ground 
stood at Itf . 15 cenL^Haikvay Magazine, 



Cl^e f^ohtUit. 


Adonuah Shufflbbotham had a daughteri 
Kesiah, a year younger than Nehemiah 
Wngg, She was beautiful as a nymph, and 
gentle as a lamb, and seemed in her mild 
bveliness like a stray biid of Paradise, when 
compared with her moie ruf[[ged compeers. 

It was not in ^ hearts of two such beings 
as Nehemiah and Kesiah to enter Miy into 
the violent feelings of animositv that influ- 
enced their parents ; and though Nehemiah 
turned out with his &ction, it was observed 
that he declaimed bitterly against the proceed- 
ing, and always spoke leniently of the Shuffle- 

One moonlight evening, shortly after the 
introduction of the attomies, one of those 
luckless maidens that are to be found in every 
village, who, having no business of their own, 
make it their stu^ to know the business of 
everybody else, was aware of two figures, a 
male and female, walking not (ar m>m the 
house of Adonijah Shufflebotham. 

She watched them closely— she saw that 
the arm of the man gently encircled the waist 
of his companion, and that after walking for 
some time, he led her to the door of Aflkmi- 
jah, and tiiere took leave of her with a chaste 

The next morning it was spread through- 
out Our VUlage uiat Nehemiah Wragg 
courted Kesiah Shufflebotham, and the 
astounding intelligence was conveyed forth- 
with to the ears of Ichabod. 

An inquiry was the consequence ; and Ne- 
hemiah, too proud and too honest to deny the 
truth, conferaed that he loved Kesiah, and 
that his love was returned — but Ichabod had 
no sympathy with the feelings of youth ; he 
drove his son from his presence in anger, and 
ftom that moment Nehemiah was lost to Our 
Village. Whither he was gone, or how dis- 
posed of, none knew — ^but all lamented his 

The gossip rumour, in like manner, con- 
veyed the unpleasant information to the ears 
of Adonijah Shufflebotham, and with him it 
was attended with similar direful e&cts. 

He furiously questioned his poor pale 
daughter ; who, too simple and too innocent 
to make a denial, and too terrified to justify 
herself, sank down at his feet in a swoon — 
but the gprey-headed man spumed her from 
him with a curse. 

There were hearts in the village of softer 
material than that of Adonijah; and the 
stricken maid was received in the house of a 
neighbour, that she might abide the passbg 
away of her father's wrath. 

There her lo8S and her sense of utter help- 
lessness became overwhelming, and were too 
much for her bodily powers to withstand, and 

sickness overtook her. She lingered for some 
time, apparently in a doubtful state whether 
she woidd continue here or quit this worid for 
a better, where puritv such as hers must needs 
be happy; but at length her yonth and a 
good constitution prevailed, and she dis- 
played slight symptoms of amendment ; and 
the incident of her separation from Nehe- 
miah, painful as it was to her, and, doubtless, 
also to him, became of happy consequences 
to the fomilies of both. 

Several months had elapsed, and no tidings 
had been received of Nehenuah, and he be- 
gan, by common consent, to be ranked 
amongst the dead. His father bitterly la- 
ments his loss, for in the secret comer of 
the old man's heart his name and lineaments 
were firmly graven — and often, and often, in 
his silent s^tude did Ichabod accuse him- 
self of the death of his son, and fervently 
wish that he were then the husband of Ke- 
siah Shufflebotham. 

Adonijah, also, had feelings of a umilar 
tendency. He saw his daughter— his dear, 
his fovourite daughter — silently sufienng, not 
only disease, but that worst of anguish, the 
heart's utter hopelessness ; and he heaad on 
all hands, and could^not help feeling it to be 
trae, that his hard-hearted croeUy hi^ helped 
to bring her to what she was; diat, instead 
of being a support to her in her affliction, he 
had pressed the weight of sorrow with an un- 
flinching hand upon her, and helped to bow 
her down to the dust. 

As time progressed, the gentle Kesiah 
slowly improved ; and, too feeble to support 
herself, was led by her kind-hearted enter- 
tainer to sit in the sun for an hour in the mid^ 
die of the day, on a g^rassy bank not iar ftom 
the house. The hour was well known to the 
young people of Our Village ; and, daily as 
she sat there, she found herself sunounded 
by some or other of them, provided with a 
nosegay or a simple flower, or some other 
trifle that they knew would be acceptable to 

An old man passed the spot several days 
together, and gased at Kesiah with much 
eamestness, and with a look of feding and of 
anguish. Again be passed; and he stopped . 
some time to gase upon her, and then passed 
on ; but on the next day he came to see her, 
and, after looking upon her piteously for a 
little time, he rushed towards her, seized her 
hand — and, kissing it, sobbed out a blessing 
upon her. It irSk Ichabod Wragg ! 

The incident soon spread for imd wide, and 
the blessing that Ichabod Wragg had be- 
stowed upon Kesiah Shufflebotham was re- 
turned to him tenfold by the inhabitants of 
Our Village. 

Adonijtdi also heard of it, and, in the first 
moment of disappointed selfishness, 1m felt 
as if Ichabod had invaded his right, and de- 
prived him of some portion of the sympalliy 



due to a sufferiDg; child ; but a better feeling 
prevailed, and he became sensible that Icha- 
bod had set him an example that it would be 
sinful not to follow. He soon afterwards 
found himself at the bedside of hit daughter, 
and all was peace between them ! 

Adonijah and Ichabod dally paid their vi- 
sits to the suffering Kesiah, and it was not 
bng before they met together over the bed of 
sickness. At first the feeling was an awk- 
ward one on both sides. There was a re- 
membrance of ancient wrongs and grievances, 
and a struggling with old prejudices and an- 
tipathies, and a frown darkened the counte- 
nances of the two men who ior years had 
been opposed to each other. But all vanished 
as a dream when Ichabod^ acting upon a bet- 
ter impulse than that of his reason's convic- 
tion, tendered the hand of peace to Ado- 

Adonijah accepted the proffered hand, and 
whilst the two palms were united in some- 
thing like friendly greeting, the two old sin- 
ners looked at each other with a shake of the 
head, and a leer in which there was much 
latent humour, and a look that implied that 
each was glad to see that his old opponent 
had at lengUi discovered the error of hii 

The reconciliation of Adonijah and Ichabod 
was followed by the reconciliation of their 
respective followers and iriends. 

Adonijah and Ichabod now become as 
firm friends as they had formerly been ene- 
mies, united together to improve and enlarge 
Oar Village, and at the same time to im- 
prove and enlarge their own fortunes, in 
which they became eminently successful. 

They acquired considerable quantities of 
kind by more honest means than those by 
which they acquired their first locations, 
and invited settlers from a distance; and 
being naturally shrewd energetic men, and 
possessed of a certain degree of influence as 
thenatriarchs of the village, they succeeded 
io their object. 

Thus matters proceeded for a period of 
six years or upwards after the reconciliation 
of the two families, and Our Village attained 
a great degree of prosperity. 

On the morning of the fair crowds of 
strangers, dressed in their holiday clothes, 
entered Our Village, and an assemblage of 
those who usually took the lead amongst 
ns, including Adonijah and Ichabod, having 
gone upon the ground and formalljr an- 
nonncea the conunencement of the fair, its 
business, its pleasures, and its frolics were 
not long ere they burst forth in all their 

Adonijah and Ichabod, after attending the 
ceremony of opening the fair, had retired 
ixom the bustle; but on the second day, 
having heard so good an account of the first, 
they agreed to walk through it together. 

and to take Kesiah betwixt tliem imder tlieir 
joint protection. 

They accordingly went and viewed all its 
wonders—looked at the stores and goods 
arranged in beautiful and tasteful order, and 
admired and wondered at each thing they 
saw, and at the vast company collected toge- 
ther. They strolled on, gazug at this thing 
and at that, until they found themselves 
opposite to the booth where the facetious 
Merryandrew was amusing a delighted audi- 
ence. There he was, in all the dignity of 
paint and tinsel, twisting himself about in 
the most singularly droll evolutions, and 
exhibiting a face that defied gravity herself 
to maintam her stoic indifference, and dealing 
witticisms right and lelt that drew forth 
shouts of laughter from the assembled mul- 

Adonijah and Ichabod pressed through 
the crowd and got to the front, with KesMh 
betwixt them linking an arm with each. 

Wild were the antics ahd the jests of the 
Merryandrew, and wild were the delighted 
screams of the spectators ; but he caught a 
glimpse of Kesiah and her companions — ^hia 
mirth ceased— he rolled off the stage on 
which he stood, and knelt at the feet of the 
group. The facetious Merryandrew was 
the long-lost Nehemiah Wragg I 

It would be in vain to attempt to describe 
the scene that ensued. Kesiah sank down 
in a swoon, and her two aged companions 
were in little better condition. Some friends 
who were present conveyed the whole party 
away to tne house of Adonijah ; and the 
wonderful return of Nehemiah Wragg being 
soon spread through the village, all the re- 
latives on both sides were soon assembled 
there to satisfy themselves of the truth of 
his re-appearance. 

Nehemiah had a long tale to tell — a long 
account to give of sufferings and privations, 
and a very small per contra account of enjoy- 
ments, during the time he had been away 
from Our Village. 

£^e at first, it appeared, had travelled as 
far from his native home as his money would 
enable him to do without stopping. He 
then got work as a farm-labourer, which, 
after some time, he quitted, and entered into 
the service of a gentleman as groom. He 
remained in that capacity until his master 
died, after which he was reduced to great 
distress, and joined a company of strolling 
players — ^the whole party were taken into 
custody, and inoprisoned as rogues and vaga- 
bonds; and after his liberation he had a 
narrow escape of being enlisted for a soldier, 
but instead of that got employment as a 
hand in a coasting vessel. There he re- 
mained some time, at very hard woik and 
for very little wages, and was ultimately 
wrecked. Quitting the sea, he assumed the 
original occupation of his father, and Un- 
versed the country as an itinerant tinker>. 



and ultimately he ioined the company witii 
which he Tlnited Our Village^ to whom his 
wit and drollery rendered him a valunble 
acquisition, though his heart was freauently 
ready to burst with anguish when ne ap- 
peared the very personification of mirth and 

During the whole time of bis absence he 
had heard no tidings of Kesiah nor of his 
own family, and knowing the implacable 
enmity that existed betwixt his father and 
Adonijah, he saw little chance that good 
would result from any inquiry be might 
institute. He had, therefore^ remained 
silent, and striven with might and main to 
forget Our Village and all that it contained. 
But that might not be ; for in the midst of 
his hardships, and in the hour of his deepest 
distress, a figure was present to his fanc^» 
and floating visions passed before him in his 
dreams, bearing comfort to him> and telling 
him of happiness to come, and that figure 
was always prominent in the scenes that 
were at those times pictured to his imagina- 
tion, and always promoted and shared in the 
blessings that he in fancy enjoyed. 

It cannot, therefore, be surprising that 
when Nehemiah, by an accident, heard of 
the rapid increase of Our Village, and of 
the fair intended to be holden there, he pre- 
vailed on his companions to travel a consi- 
derable distance out of their way to attend 
it ; trusting* as he did, that he should l?ave 
some opportunity to see Kesiah^ a^id, enter- 
taining an undefined hope that something 
would occur favourable to his wishes. With 
what did occur the reader is acquainted. 

The bustle and excitement of our great 
undertaking being oven, the people of Our 
Tillage had leisure to think of something 
else, and they rushed almost in a body to 
congratulate Nehemiah and Kesiah. The 
two families of Shulfiebotham and Wragg 
manfully came forward to take the stroller 
by the hand, and placed him in business 
with themselves, and an immediate marriage 
was concluded upon betwixt the two, who, 
it was well known, had long been united in 

And such a marriage it was I No non- 
sensical parade — no afiected ppstponement 
— no driving awi\y to spend some time oi^t 
of the sight and hearing of their friends. 
No I— the Wednesdajr after the fair was 
namecf for the wedding, and publicly an- 
noupc^ in ike village, and we all thought 
that we had not only a right, but that it was^ 
our li^u^den duty to be present. 

On tlv^ i^orning of the wedding Nehe« 
mia]^ ana Kesj^ah walked to the altar, accom- 
j^anied by every one of their respective 
lamias, an^ followed by the entire of Our 
Village, man, woman, and child, that was 
nble to walk. We considered it a holiday, 
and we niade it a fe^st. 

After the ceremony we all accoa^paoied/ 

them back to the house of Adoniiah Shnffle- 
bothum, and there the whole multitude pro- 
nounced a loud and a fervent blessing upon 
them, and departed. 

Such was their wedding, and they were 
blessed — blessed in their fortunes, for they 
have been prosperous — and in their family, 
for they have children, who arh virtnous 
and prosperous also. 

Adoniiah Shufilebotham and Ichabod 
Wragg lived several years after that, and 
saw their children and their children's chil- 
dren flourishing about them, and at length 
sank into the grave, full of years, and carry- 
ing with them the respect and the reverence 
of their survivors— a proof that, although a 
man may commence life in error, he may, 
by the Divine assistance, terminate it satis- 
factorily. — Blackwood's Magazine, 


Afr*. Green's Narrative. 
It will be remembered by our readers who 
viewed the progress of the aerostatic ma? 
chines, at tne different courses the two 
floating bodies struck into shortly after thej 
had left the spot whence they had started. 
Even to the spectator that fact bore ample 
proof of the existence of varied currents of 
air, although the substance operated upon at 
first appeared to ba moying at aearly e^ 
elevations. The results to which the voyage, 
as afiecUng the Nassau balloon, has led, and 
the diffitrent effects to which it was sub- 
ject during the journey, we have been khidly 
favoured with by Mr. Green, to whom the 
science of aerostation is more deeply in- 
debted than to any individual who has before 
made that peculiar branch of discovery a 
study.' It will, by a careful perusal of the 
account, be seen, that effects hitherto uo- 
observed were produced, and with mionte 
accuracy marked by the three travellers, but 
by neither of them with more avidity, or with 
more anxiety, than by Mr. Rush, firom whose 
memoranda a great proportion of thepartiea- 
lars have been furnished. Independent of tlie 
detaik contained in Mr. Green's vecsipD, that 
gentleman and Mr. Spenc;er have informed 
US, that, after they had *< o'ertopped'^ their 
opponent, the i^pearanca it pii^aented waft 
that of a large body skimming along the 
surface of the earth, although a portion of 
that tipne it was as far therefrom as 4,00U 
feet Since their arrival in town the svsae 
parties, have been told, that the Nassau bait 
loon was visible to the eye oi the gazer for 
an hour after it had quitted the gardens. 
It is clear, then, such being the. case, the^ 
balloon must have been seen in London 
when it had reached a^ distanoe OiC 30 nHf^ 
ff ow th^ metrogplij^ 



Mr. Green's narifativels as follows : 

'< My ascent on Taenday last from Vaux- 
hall-gardensy in the great Nassau balloon, 
was in company with Mr. Edward Spencer, 
and Mr. Rush, of Elsenham-hall, Essex, 
who had intimated to me his desire to make 
an ascent of considerable elevation, with a 
▼lew of ascertaining the greatest altitude 
that could with safety be attained with three 
persons in the car ; and further, to ascertain 
the changes of temperature that would take 
place at different eleyations, as well as the 
variations of the currents of air ; and, finally, 
to establish the important fact, as to whether 
the same difficulties existed with regard to 
respiration in a very rarified atmosphere by 
persons ascending with a balloon to any 
great altitude, as have been felt and de- 
scribed by persons who ha?e ascended lofty 

** Ever since I constructed the Nassau bal- 
loon I have had a strong desire to set these 
qaei»tions at rest, and I therefore feel great 
pleasure in being able to communicate to the 
public (through the medium of your journal) 
the result of our experiments, extracted 
from our minutes out of Mr. Rush's note- 
book, and which were made by him at short 
intervals during the progress of our ascent 
and descent. 

" We left the earth at 25 minutes before 
7 p.m.> with two barometers standing each 
at 30 inches. One of these instruments, as 
well as a thermometer, was furnished by 
Mr. Rush, constructed on the most accurate 
principles, and made expressly for the pur- 
pose by Mr. Jones, optician, of Charing- 
cross. The thermometer stood at 6^^ Fah- 
renheit. During our ascent, the barometer 
and thermometer, at our different elevations, 
varied thus : — 



30 inches. 

66 degrees. 

23 — 



21 - 



19 — 



18 — 



17 - 


16 — 



15 — 



t!ll 1^ 70 



<< On our first rising from the Gardens 
we took a north-westerly direction, and 
continued that course until we arrived over 
Vauxhall-bridge, when we were at an ele- 
vation of 2,500 feet The line then changed 
to the north, and shortly after to north-east. 
All the time we were passing over the me- 
tropolis we dischargea ballast, and rose in 
proportion. We then pursued our journey, 
passing over Dalston, Lea-bridge, and Ep- 
ping, in which direction we continued with 
but little variation, leaving Dnnmow, in 
Essex, on our left At this period we had 

atluined our greatest altitude ; namely, 
19,335 feet, or 3| miles and 855 feet It 
was now that, for the first time, our view of 
the earth was intercepted by a stratum of 
cloud, which was apparently somewhere 
about 6,000 feet below us. In consequence 
of the vast quantity of ballast that we con- 
tinued to discharge after having cleared the 
metropolis, our ascent became very rapid, 
and from the great expansion of the inflat- 
ing power the gas rushed out from the lower 
valve in considerable torrents. The velocity 
of our upward progress caused the balloon 
and car to rotate in a spiral motion on its 
axis with astonishing rapidity. (A similar 
operation takes place, although not to so 
great an extent, on all occasions of a rapid 
ascent or descent) During our ascension 
we, at different periods, threw overboard 
about 1,2001b. of ballast, reserving only 
1001b. by which to regulate our descent 

** Our course then veered to the north over 
Thaxted. We were now under the influence 
of the same current as that which governed 
our progress immediately on quitting terra 
finna, and the balloon was propelled over 
Debden, where we effected our descent, at 
^ve minutes after 8 o'clock, having accom- 
plished the voyage in one hour and 30 
minutes. We reached the earth in a field 
near Rowney-wood, in the parish of Deb- 
den, a distance of 47 miles from VauxhaU- 
gardens, three miles south of Saffron Wal- 
den, and only five miles from the residence of 
our fellow-voyager, Mr. Rush, to whose 
house we at once proceeded, and after hav- 
ing partaken of his hospitality, passed the 

" It will be perceived by the table I have 
given above, that at our greatest altitude 
8ie mercury in the barometer had fallen to 
14 inches 70» giving an elevation of 19,335 
feet. Since my arrival in London the matter 
has undei]gone a calculation by Mr. Jones, 
the optician, from which the following re- 
sults have been arrived at : — 

Barometer at starting . • 30. 

Ditto at greatest elevation . 14* 70. 
Thermometer ... 66. 
Ditto ... 25. 

Approximate feet .... 18,826 

Allowance for temperature . 509 

Total elevation . . 19,335, 
or 3} miles, minus 465 feet 

" During our descent, when at 1,200 feet 
from the earth, we encountered a heavy fall 
of snow, which lasted for half an hour, 
accompanied with a sudden and very gpreat 
reduction of temperature, the thermometer 
dropping to 22 degrees, or 10 degrees below 
freezing point. The mercury in the baro- 
meter at this moment had risen to 19 inches. 
By a comparison of this state of the two 
glasses witn that which they presented as 



wawent upf^i wiH be seen that, at the tame 
elevati6D, whilst ihe barometer was at 19, 
aod thermometer at 46, tiie formerretained 
its position, but the latter had fallen to 32, 
thereby showing a redaction of temperature 
in the course of one hour, at the same eleva* 
lion, of 24 degrees. I mention this circum- 
stance for the purpose of directing the 
attention of the scientific world to those local 
and sudden changes of temperature which in 
the course of my numerous ascents I have 
often experienced. 

" I have further to observe, that although 
the air near the earth was in a tranquil state, 
the current by which the balloon was prin. 
cipally operated upon, (namely, south by 
West,) must have been moving at the rate of 
at least 60 miles an hour; for, notwith- 
standing the rapidity -of our ascent and 
descent, which necessarily formed a power- 
ful resistance to this horizontal current, we 
travelled at an average speed of 30 miles per 

" When at an elevation of 15,000 feet, we 
discerned in the south-east an extremely 
vivid flash of lightning. 

*' With reference to the fact of there 
being a supposed natural difficulty of respi- 
ration at great altitudes above the earth's 
surface, as mentioned in the works of Hum- 
boldt and other celebrated travellers, by 
whom it has been painfully experienceid in 
their ascents of high mountains, I am in- 
clined, from the circumstance of an opposite 
result having been produced upon ourselves 
On this occasion, to imagine that the fatigue 
and depression of the muscular powers pro- 
duced by the accomplishment ol their jour- 
ney, must alone have led to such an end. 
Mr. Rush, Mr. Spencer, and myself, at no 
moment, even when at our greatest eleva- 
tion, laboured under the slightest inconveni- 
ence in respect to a difficulty of respiration. 
We breathed with the utmost ease, and as 
freely as when walking on the earth's sur- 
face."— Titties, Sept 7, 1838. 



[In vol. xxvi., p. 249, of the Mirror, a view of 
the above Establishment is given, accompa- 
nied by elucidatory remarks. But this vital 
measure having since that period been the sub- 
ject of the most serious attention of the legis- 
lature, we subjoin from the ** Report on 
Transportation," the following interesting 
particulars ; printed by order of the House of 
Commons :] — 

The juvenile establishment at Point Puer 
was formed in January, 1834; the system, 
with little variation, has not deviated from 
that which was first established, the daily 
routine of duties are as follows, viz., the boys 
rise at five o' clock, roll up and stow their 

hammocks and liedding; (his done, the whole 
are assembled together, when a portion of 
Scripture and a suitable morning-prayer is 
read by the catechist, after which the boys 
leave the barracks, wash and amuse them- 
selves within the prescribed bounds (extend- 
ing about a quarter of a mile) preparatory to 
beinp^ inspected as to personal cleanliness 
previous to breakfast, which takes place at 
seven o'clock ; it consists of ten ounces of 
bread, one pint of gruel made from two 
ounces of fluur : the meal ended, they again 
disperse till the general muster for the laboois 
of the day, conunfncing at eight o*ck)ck ; they 
continue at work until twelve, when the beU 
rings for leaving off; they then prepare and 
wash themselves, previous to being again in- 
spected as to personal cleanliness for dinoer 
at half-past twelve ; this meal consists of 
three-quarters of a pound of fresh or salt beef, 
or haUt.a-poimd of salt pork, ten ounces of 
pudding made from seven ounces of fiQur, 
with the fat procured from boiling the meat, 
or one pint of soup thickened with one ounce 
of flour, one pound of cabbage or turnip, or 
one pint of soup made from boiling the meat, 
and eight ounces of bread, or hidf-a-pound of 
potatoes in lieu of other vegetables ; they aie 
again mustered for labour at half-past one 
o'clock, in the interim amusing. themseliies; 
they are kept at work until five o'clock; their 
supper is prepared by half-past five, previous 
to which they are inspected : this latter meal 
consists of the same as breakfast. The entire 
ration allowed to the boys at this establish- 
ment, is the same as issued to the men at the 
penal settlement; vis., one pound and three- 
quarters of flour, three-quarters of a pound of 
fresh or salt beef, or half-a^pound of salt pod^ 
one pound of cabbage or turnip, or half-a- 
pound of potatoes, quarter of an ounce of sslt, 
and half an ounce of soap, per diem; two 
ounces of raisins, as an indulgence, is given 
to each boy on Sunday for pudding. The 
portion of raisins of such as have miscon- 
ducted themselves during the week is forfeited, 
and given to the well-behaved. 

The boys are divided into meaaei of from 
ten to twelve each ; corporals are appointed 
(one from each mess), who fall in regularly 
prior to each meal, and mardi to the cook- 
house to draw the ration for their respective 
messes, when it is taken to the banack-room, 
and divided by them under the inspection of 
the superintendent, or principal overseer; 
some of the boys most conversant with figures, 
generally attend at the cook-house to see jus- 
tice done them in weighing out the provi- 

At a quarter past six the boys are mustered 
for school, which continues one hour, when 
the evening is closed by singing the evening 
hymn; a portion of Scripture being read, 
and finally with an appropriate pra,yer, as in 
the morning; after this the boys retire to bed. 



Lights toe kept baroing in the barrack*, and 
a watch ia kept by the overseera alternately 
during the night 

On Saturday afternoon no work ia per- 
formed, except by such as have misconducted 
themselves during the week ; but the whole 
of them are examined by the surgeon with 
their shirts off, to ascertain their bodily state 
of health and capabilities for the different 
occupations to which they have been assigned 
during the week. 

On Sunday the boys rise as usual, attend 
morning-prayers, and at nine o'clock a clean 
shirt and soap is issued to them for the week; 
at half-past ten they are mustered, for Divine 
service, which is held in the barracks ; dinner 
at one, school from half-past two until half- 
past four, supper at five, and Divine service 
in the evening at six, which is performed by 
the superintendent officiating as catechist 
(occasionally by the Wesleyan minister at- 
tached to Port Arthur) ; the prayers read are 
those of the £stablished Church of England, 
and on each occasion an approved sermon, 
adapted to the comprehension of the congre- 
gation, is delivered, at the close of which the 
boys are catechised on the subject of the dis- 
course. It affords much pleasure to observe, 
from the answers given, that a considerable 
degree of attention to the subject must have 
been paid, though the voluntaiy answers given 
appear to be omfined to a few only, and those 
generally by such as are more devoutly dis- 

The plan pursued in the daily school is 
that commonly in use in England prior to the 
introduction of the national-school system. 
The instruction given at Point Puer is con- 
fined to plain reading, writing, and .the sim- 
ple rules of arithmetic, under the inspection 
of the superintendent, aided by the overseers 
and men attached to the establishment, who 
act as teachers in the variom departments, 
according to their abilities. 

The sdiool is at present held in the apart- 
ment in the barracks, which cannot be avoided 
until the erection of the contemplated build* 
ing of chaped and school-room combined ; this 
win also afford an opportunity of introducing 
the Lancasterian system in the school, which 
the present arrangement of the barrack-room 
will not admit. The boys an divided into 
two divisions, (who are subdivided into 
dasaes,^ one of which b engaged in reading, 
spellings a^ exercises in the arithmetical 
tables, wwtt the other is writing and cypher^ 

On Sunday afternoon, the school duties 
are confined to reading and spelling, learning 
and repeating the Church Catechism. 

The books used in the school are the Bible 
and New Testament, Psalter and common 
spelling-book. A small library is at present 
in possession of this estabhshment, con* 
sisting of hof]k» chiefly fiirnished through th« 

kindness of diieient individuals who have 
visited Point Puer, a small donation from the 
ReligiouiT Tract Society, London, together 
wish a number of tracts presented by di&rent 
persons, of which the boys frequently avail 
themselves during their leisure hours. 

The Sabbath is passed in a strictly devout 
manner, and at all times profane, blasphem- 
ous, and indecent language or conduct is 
checked and punished. 

The trades taught are such as are most 
likely to be useful in a new country, and 
consist of boot and shoe-makers, carpenters, 
blacksmiths, nailers, tailors, coopers, bakers, 
kitchen-gardeners, and sawyos, a ftv m 
about to be put to book-binding and turning, 
in the different branchea. In addition to the 
above, a number of boys have been removed 
to Port Arthur (where every attention possible 
is paid in keeping them separate from the 
adults), for the purpose of learning stone-cut- 
ting and boat-building. The instructors of 
those trades are selmted from the more 
steady and intelligent men belonging to the 
penal settlement, who have hitherto evinced 
themselves sealous in forwarding the boys, 
and exemplary in other respects m their con- 
duct. Many of the boys have already been 
assigned as being good and useful mechanics. 

The boys on their arrival are employed in 
what is termed the ** labouring gang," break- 
ing up new ground, cultivating the Govern- 
ment garden, canyin^ sawn timber from the 
pits for use and shipment, making roads, 
felling, cross-cutting, and splitting timber for 
firewood, for the use of the establishment, 
carrying the same, waahing and cooking, 
cleaning in and about the barracks, and lul 
duties connected with their own wants and 
attendance. The whole of the boys, more or 
less, are taught the use of husbandry tools, 
the axe, the saw, <fec The benefit of their 
services is of importance to the establishment 
generally ; ibr mstance, the carpenters have 
recently prepared a portion of the fittings for 
the church now erecting at POrt Arthur, and 
several articles of furniture for various govern- 
ment buildings; they have erected almost 
the whole of the buildings forming their own 
establishment, together with making all ne- 
cessary repairs. The sawyers have prepared 
the greater part of the material for the same, 
and, in addition, assisted in cutting timber 
to supply the requisitions made by the differ- 
ent departments in Hobart Town. The shoe- 
makers make the whole of the boots supplied 
to the boys and overseers, and a considerable 
number for the establishment at Port Arthur. 
The nailers assist in making spriggs for the 
above, nails for the shipwrights' estaUish- 
ment. Tailors in like manner make up the 
elothing for the boys at the establishment, 
and occasionally for the prisoners at Port 
Arthur. Blacksmiths make and repair pick- 
axes, &c., aharpen tools for the stone-cutters. 



Sec, &P.t and in a variefy of wayH as necessitjr 
requihiir; indeed the whole prove extremely 
usefiil to the establishment. 

The clothmg furnished to the boys is the 
8am6 as that flowed to other prisoners 
throughout the colony ; viz. two jackets^ two 
pairs of trousers, two pairs of boots, two 
striped cotton shirts, one cloth waistcoat, and 
a cap, annually ; the aboire, if the material is 
good, and proper attention paid to timely 
repairs, is quite sufficient. The bedding 
consists of one rug, one blanket, one bed-tick 
or hammock. As the barrack-room is rather 
cold, I have taken upon myself to issue an 
extra blanket to the boys who conduct them- 
8elves, but which is taken from them when 
sleeping in the cells^ &c., or under punish- 

The most trivial crime or irregularity is not 
permitted to pass without punishment In pro- 
portion to the degree or nature of the ofi^ce, 
which consists in confinement to the mnster- 
grouttd during cessation from labour^ where 
no amusement is allowed, and the boys so 
confined are required to do the duties of sca- 
vengers-. The next grade of punishment, 
where a more refractory spirit is evinced, is 
to be placed in a cell immediately labour 
ceases, and receive their meals therein, where 
no talking or noise is permitted ; they dso 
sleep in them, but attend school, and are 
con^ned until they manifest a disposition to 
ikmendment. The next grade of punishment 
is confinement in a cell on bread and water ; 
one pound of bread per dieni only is the scale 
of ration fbr solitary confinement, and when 
uttder this sentence they perform no labour. 
The periods generally are^ very short ; these 
eells are Hvt fiitt six inches by three feet six 
inches: In cases of more determined viola- 
tion of the regulations, the offender is sen- 
tenced to punishment on- the breech. This 
measdre is never refsorted td until every other 
means' to reform hare beiSii tried without 
effect, unlifss undisr some particular circum- 
stances, such as a mutinous disposition. It 
has been fbund necessary to keep up a very 
strict line of discipline at this establishment, 
much more so than I would wish, though I 
am still happy to say that few offences are 
committed (eonsidijridg the number and cha- 
iftcter of the bdys) that come under the head 
of serious ones. 

Tb m Editor cfthe Mirror, 
The attention of the public having lately 
been called to the above interesting subject, 
I transmit what I believe is a tolerably cor- 
rect register of such statues as have been 
erected in the open air^ in London, and its 

** It is a matter of surprise,*' says a 
correspondent of the limes,** to foreigners 

who visit our metropoiit, the hive of n&tions, 
that although it so mudi exceeds, in its extent 
and the vastness of its population, in its riches, 
and in its industry, every other city— although 
so much care ia devoted to keep it in that 
trimness, and give it that sunshiny and hal- 
cyon look by which it b more especially dis- 
tinguished firom every other dty — and 
although it is ac^knowledged that the genius 
of the nation is capable of appreciating what 
is meritorious in works of art, yet that in the 
designs both of their public and domestic 
architecture, the citizens of London h\l 
lamentably below the standard of taste which 
exists in many, if not most, of the second and 
tiiird-rate cities of Europe — nay, that this 
anomaly should Be more apparent in the ca- 
pital than in many of the privincial and 
manufacturing towns of the kingd6m, is 
remarkable. But, without alluding to the 
cause of so strange a fact, we briefiy come to 
the immediate subject of this notice. Cue 
feature which more particulariy distinguishes 
the continental cities from our own, and 
which at once strikes the English traveller, 
is the number of statues erected in the public 
places, in the open air, to the memory of 
their kings, or consecrated by a grateful peo- 
ple to those who, either as statesmen, leaders, 
or philosophers, have proved themselves the 
benefactors or the ornaments of their county. 
We will undertake to say, that there id hardly 
a third-rate town of civilized Europe which 
does not exhibit as many testimonials of its 
rvspect in this manner as are displayed 
throughout the vast metropolis of Britain. 
The paucity of public monmnents (for those 
CAu. hardly be reckoned as public, although 
erected at public cost, which are encaged antf 
dosely guarded within the walbi of St.PaulV 
and Westminster Abb^, the exhibition of 
which is regarded as private right and pro- 
perty) is indeed a subject of surprise and 
ic^et — of surprise, that in a pedpSe, amoitgst' 
whom neither talent, wealth, nor will are 
wanting, the last and greatest public demod- 
iStmtion of gratitude to benefadors has been 
so scantily displayed— of regret, that the 
national ciiaracter is lowered in tiie eyes of 
strangers, and that the designation of a shop- 
keeping people, bestowed on us by Napoleon, 
Should in this respect, at least, seem not to; 
have been undeserved. Within the wide 
circuit of ancient Rome every square, street, 
and alley, was alive with effigies of its patriots 
and its heroes ; and it is recorded as a saying 
of the Emperor Adrian, that the living popu- 
lation of the city scarcely surpassed in uuflifber 
the statues which gratitude had can^ to be 
erected for public services perfbrmed, of 
which the patriotism of private citizens had 
created to decorate the capital of the empire. 
Hie greater ntimbet of the capitals of cobti- 
riental Europe ~ Paris, Beriin, Florenci, 
Milan, St. Peteirsburgh, &c., and indeed most 



of it* cities of any note, are decorated with 
tbe works of ancient or modern art. Their 
gardens, squares, and bridges are the places 
on which they are displayed ; and although 
many of them are hardly deserving the criti- 
cism of the connoisseiir, yet, taken as a whole, 
it cannot be denied that they confer a charac- 
ter of grandeur and beauty on the continental 
cities which we in vain look for in our own/' 
It is indeed surprising, that our public 
monuments are so lew; and that not one 
has hitherto been erected in honour of 
either our poets, painters, or mechanics.* 



There is a wretched-looking statne of the 
above monarch in front of Trinity- Church. 


In front of St. Bartholomew's Hospital 


One of bronze, by Sche6maker, in the oen^ 
tre court of St. Thomas's Hospital ; and one 
in the front of Christ's Hospital. 


One at Lord Hertford's villa, in the Re- 
gent's Park ; which stood originally on the 
west side of Ludgate, and afterwards placed 
at the east end of St. Dunstan's Church, 
Fleet-street There is also another in front 
of Temple-bar. 


In the front of Temple-bar. 


The equestrian statue at Charing-cross, 
by the celebrated La Soeur. It was cast 
for the Harl of Arundel, and was not erected 
there tiH 1687 : the pedestal is the work of 
Grinlin Gibbons. Tffere was another statue 
formerly in front of the Royal Exchange, 
which was uninjured ; and there is a third 
^ front of Temple-bar. 


Of this monarch there are five statues ; 1^ 
formerly in the front of the Royal Exchange^ 
TOidestroyed; 2, in the quadrangle of tht 
same building) also undestroyed ; 3, in front 

* It is trae,Tne laveBome sepnlcfana flflH(k98 t» tto 
inemoriea of a few of sutch illii«tirioa8 nwa ; bat tlwyi 
are, uufortanately, hid from 'the million,' beiof 
erected in places seldom vi&ited. In ^t, such are 
not public stataes ; to render them so, they ooght 
to be placed in ow most cotispicvoiis sHuatioDSb to ha 
witnessed by evmy oi^e i aud not huddled up where 
no one can see them without paying ; but, ^ Sterne 
says, '• they oider these matters better in France." 
We must, however, satisfy ourseWes with the fond 
hope, that wiser and more Ubesal day? are in stof» 
for us. 

t There were formerly three statues in the front of 
QiriMli^l Chapel, of Edward VI., Elisabeth, and 
Ch^udes It. They have been carefully preser\'ed and- 
repaired by order of tliecorpicuratim, and wia shortly 
be placed in the east end of Guildhall, where three 
ntches are beini; prepared for them i jhe statue of 
Ej^abetUis paiUcalaity finew 

of Temple-bnr; 4, a pedestrian statue in 
Soho-squnre. This was placed there by his 
unfortunate son, the Duke of Monmouth, 
whose house it faced, and which stoo4 on 
the ground now called Bateman's Buildings ; 
and 5, one in bronze, at Chelsea Hospital. 


At the back of Whitehall, stands the 
bronze statue of James J I,. It was cast by 
Grinlin Gibbons in 1687, the year previous 
to his forfeiture. 

One, on horseback, in St. Jara^s's-square. 
It is by the younger Bacon. 


One in front of St. PauFs Catl^edral ; and 
another in Queen-square, Westminster. 


Onoin the Roll's Court, Chancery-lane ; 
another (equestrian) in Grosvenor-square, 
by Van Nort, and was erected bv Sir Ro- 
bert Grosvenor, in 172^ ; and a third, also 
equestrian, in Leieester-6^p««re : it is of 
bronze, and was modelled by C. Buchardy 
for the Duke of Chandos, and stood in the 
centre of the first quadrangle, at his seat at 
Canons. The statue at the top of the 
steeple of the church of St. George^ Blooms* 
bury, is also of George I. The architect 
who placed the king at such an ei(alted and 
curious station, was numed J. Hawksmann. 


In the great quadrangle :of Greenwich 
Hospital It is by Risbrach. 
«B(meE in* 

Of this monarch, there is one of the finest 
statues in Europe, in the quadrangle in 
Somerset-place, Skrand ; it i» of bronze, and 
by that skilful artist the elder Bacon. There 
is another (equestrian) in Ceckspur-streett 
Charing-cross, by Mr. Wyatt ; X and a third 
at Windsor. 


Of this muftificent patron Of the fine arts, 
there is only one, and that is at King's 
Cross, Battle Bridge* It is not worthy to be 
called a statue. 


The pilltor erected, by public subseriptioii, 
to bis memory, in Charlton Gardens. 


In bronze, by Gahagan, at the top of 


In Hanover- square : it is of bronze, by 


In Russell-square: the artist is West- 


In Bloomsbury-square : it is of bronze, 
by Westmacott. 

ISeeJttnw, No. 792^ p. 113. I Vol. xx. p. 417. 
II No. 61. p. 481. - 




Facing Old Palace-yard : by Weslmacott. 


In Burton Crescent. 


In the centre of the sqaare of his hospital, 
in the Borough : it is of bronsei by Schee- 


At the entrance of his Alma-houseii at 


In one of the court yardd of St. Thomas's 
Hospital: it is of stone. 


In the court yard of the Fishmongers* 
Almii-houses, Newington. 


Is the only one now to be mentioned. 
The figure is 18 feet in height ; and is the 
work of Westmacott 

As the above is a list of statues erected in 
the open air, perhaps I should not be strictly 
correct in classing among them those of Sir 
Thomas Gresham, and Sir John Barnard, 
formerly in the Royal Exchange ; not men- 
tioning the series of English monarchs 
which also embellished the same far-lamed 
structure. 2. 

• No. 706, p. 8L 

fith Sooit^. 


[Pbbhaps the moat be-tmrelled placet in all 
the world are the sacred countries, Greece 
and Rome: — Rome, emphatically styled by 
Byion, the Niobe of nations ; her progenitor 
where Homer wrote and Sappho. sung: and 
Palestina — 

In thote holy fieldi. 
Over whoM acres walked thoee blessed feet« 
Which eighteen hnndred years ago were nailed 
For our advantage to the bitter cross. 

But in an exact ratio to the distance of the 
object and the obscurity of Its chronicles, does 
imagination (and something hieher in our 
nature we hope) fondly measure the footstefis 
of departed diays. Rome has a terrible subli- 
mity about it. But we Yenture to say that 
this is to be traced to something more ap- 
palling as a moral phenomenon than the clash 
of arms and din of victoiy and struggle ; and 
the renown of mighty deeds whidi we are 
apt to identify with the Eternal City. In 
snort, the interest would be a merely cold 
classic one, (as in the case of Greece,) did 
one not unite those memorable associations 
with it, which recognise that city with the 
system located in it, which has borne such 

* Letters on Egypt, £d<nn« and the Holy Laud : 
9Tob. Golbom. 

an influence for eYil on mankind ; and thoie 
declarations, which, from education and be- 
lief we hold sacred, of its impending doom ; 
as the head of the mystical city of confusion 
— " Babylon the Great is fallen, is fallen !" 
But how do our feelings, in meditaHng on the 
Scripture countries, revel, in unalloyed subli- 
mity, (for the characters there have been 
made phiin, and neither the social, the intel- 
lectual, nor the moral principles of our nature 
are darkened with a veil ;) and we read in 
, their past and present history and condition, 
as in a printed book, some of the most me- 
morable lessons and deep-toned sentiment! 
which the 'moral Governor of the universe 
would commend to the attention of his intel- 
ligent creatures. Hence every book of travels 
on the East, if penned by a person possessing 
any sentiment or moral sympathy, has ever 
awakened earnest attention on the part of the 
public } and the appetite increases by what 
It feeds on ; instance Buckingham's exquisite 
Lectures on the Scripture countries, which 
ought to be listened to by every Sal>bath 
School in the kingdom ; his Book of Travel^ 
Csmes, Irby, MSingles, and twenty others, 
which have been published during the last 
ten years. Lord Lindsay is a young author : 
his style rather discursive, toA apparently 
flippant ; which it would be, but for redeem- 
ing characteristics, which makes us regret 
that he wanders over so much ground, and 
touches upon so many things when he can 
so well illustrate and express himself, when 
he sets down in good earnest upon any given 


So much for this << City of the Dead!" 
living Alexandria is equally interesting, 
though strangely different ; turbaned Turlu, 
wild Arabs, Copts, Armenians, Jews — every 
nation seems to have its representatives here; 
and the strings of camels towering along, the 
women gliding about in their long veils, with 
holes only for the eyes to peep out at — grace- 
ful in their carriage, some carrying their chil- 
dren at their sides, others astride on their 
shoulders — are objects thoroughly OrientaL. 
The Arabs, especially, drest just like the 
Ishmaelites and Midianites of old, carry one's 
imagination further yet back even than the 
catacombs — far, far into antiquity — to the 
days of Joseph and the Patriarchs. 

Aut it is no use attempting to sketch so 
varied and shifting a scene ; uough already 
it be somewhat familiar to me, my ideas are 
still all in a whirl. One is really bewildered 
too with the crowd of associations, ancient, 
and modem, this place teems with, indepen- 
dent of visible objects ; — Alexander the 
Great, who intended to make it the seat of* 
his empire, and the emporium of the world,' 
which indeed it became under the Ptolemies, 
as the link between India and the West — 
the museum, the libraiy, the revival oi Greek 



Uteiatme and philosophy under the enlight- 
ened snccessoTs of Alexander — the version of 
the Old Testament by the leventy-two inter- 
pceters, if we may belieYe the old legend, 
thoogh its falsity cannot affect the historical 
fact, that the Law and the Proj>het8 were 
tianslated into Greek nearly three centuries 
before our Saviour's birth, and while those 
wonderful prophecies of Daniel about the 
lings of the North and the South, the Ptole- 
mies and SeleucidsB, were actually fulfilling* 
•—CsBsar, Cleopatra, Anthony, and Shaks- 
peaie's play — Mark and his ministry, the 
school of Clement and Origen, Athanasius, 
the noble patriarch, and his chsquered for- 
tunes during a lifetime devoted to the de- 
fence of God's truth against Arius — Amrou 
and the Saracens — and lastly, after twelve 
hundred years of silence and decay, Aber- 
oombie, gallant Abercrombie, his Highland 
hesrts around him, the ciy of victory in his 

"Looking tMeUu to heaven from his death-bed of 

What varied scenes — ^what opposite charac- 
ters—what warring influences of good and 


[The next sketch is of the Ptoha of Egypt, 
whose present position, in the critical condi- 
tion of the destinies of the East, is still fraught 
with deep interest, as his fortunes hitherto 
have dispUyed him to Europe.] 

Mohammed AUy the Pasha of Egypt 
' We have received the kindest attentions 
from every one. Colonel Campbell, our Con- 
sul-general, has procured us every thing we 
could desire in the way of passports, finnans, 
&c. He introduced us to the Pasha a few 
evenings ago ; as it is now Ramadan, (the 
l\trkish Lent, during which they fast all day 
snd feast all night,) he receives after sunset. 

* Tiiese prophecies of Daniel foretelling the suf- 
wing? atid petsecutioDS of the Jews, from Alexan- 
der's successors in Syria and Egypt, till the end of 
the reijjn of Antiochos Epiphanes, during a disastrous 
period of 160 years, are, if possible, more surprising 
and astonishing, than even his grand prophetic period 
of 2300 years, and the several successions of empire, 
orthe four temporal kingdoms, that were to precede the 
B^toallcingdomofOod upon earth. The magnificence 
of tke whole selieme, comprising the fortunes of all 
iiuakind. seems to be an object suitable to the Om- 
raeient Governor of the Universe, calculated to ex- 
cite awe and admiration ; but the minuteness of de- 
UU. exhibited in this part, exceeds that of any exist- 
ing historjr of those times. The prophecy is really 
iww concise and comprehensive, and yet more dr- 
^^mstautial and complete, than any history. No one 
ovtorian has related so many drcnmstaiices, and in 
•Qdi exact order of time and place, as the prophet ; 
M that it was necessary to have recourse to several 
«>ithoR, Greek and Roman, Jewish and Christian, for 
the better explaining and illustrating the great variety 
or particolars contained in this prophecy. — The 
utoiiishing exactness with which this minute pro- 
Pjietic detail has been fhliUled. Aimishes the strongest 
pledge, from analogy, that the remaining prophecies 
were and will be as exactly fhlOUed. each in their 
proper ieasoii.'*-*l>r. Hale*^ JMoljfiit of Chrimology, 

We visited the old spider in his den, the cita- 
del, where he. ensnared and murdered the 
Mamelukes. Ascending a broad marble pas- 
sage on an inclined plane, (the substitute for 
a staircase,) and traversing a lofty antecham- 
ber crowded with attendants, we found oar- 
selves in the presence-chamber, a noble sa- 
loon, richly ornamented, but without an arti- 
cle of furmture, except a broad divan, or soCsi 
extending round the three sides of the room, 
in one comer of which squatted hu Highness 
Mohammed Ali. Six wax-candles, ten feet 
high, stood in a row in the centre of the hall, 
yet gave but little light. 

About half an hour's conversation ensued 
between Colonel Campbell and the Pasha, 
chiefly statistical, and mteresting as showing 
his singular and intimate knowl^ge, extend- 
ing to the minutest details, of every thing 
gomg on in his domiuions.t He does, in 
fact, every thing himself; he has made a 
great deal of Egypt, considered as his private 
property, but at the expense of the people, 
who are fower in number, and those few far 
more miserable than they were before his 

And how could it be otherwise ?{ He 
" has drained the country of all the working 
men. He presses them as sailors, soldiers, 
workmen, <fec., and nobody can be sure of 
his own security for a day. His system ap- 
pears to be infamous, and the change which 
has taken place in the general appearance of 
the country within a few years is said to be 
extraordinary. Every where the land is fisUing 

f ** We walked straight hito the Divan Chamber 
without being announced, or any ceremony whatever. 
The renownra Mohammed Ali was squatting in one 
comer of the room, smoking a most superb pqie^ 
clustered with whole haadfuls of diamonds ; we aU, 
after bowing, sat down on each side of him. Colfee 
was brought to each in the small cups like ^g^cups, 
in beautiful filagree stands, universally usea in flie 
East; a pipe is never given but to a peer. He sent 
for his iuttopreter, and Colonel Campbell sustained 
the conversation for three quarters of an hour nearly. 
Tlie Pasha spoke most practically and statistically 
of all his manulhctures and undertakings, entered 
into all the details of sbip>building, and the merits 
of particular woods, told us of some extraordinary 
instance of his lenient rule, in the case of a village 
which he had pardoned its contributions, inflnrmed us 
he had exported 485*000 quintals of cotton last year, 
and so on. 

" He did not address any of his guests, but I ob- 
served his sharp cunning eye fixing itKlf on every 
one. The light was not strong enough to remark 
minutely, but I can agree with former travellers as 
to the vivid expression of his eye, and. for the rest, 
under a huge tarboosh and immense white beard and 
mustachioes, it is absurd to talk of, or to have any 
clear idea of the expression of his Ihce ; but an ex- 
uression I Iiave read somewhero, ' hb cold heartless 
laugh.' came suddenlv into my head when I heard 
him laugh : it sounded hard, cold, and pleasureless, 
fluod enough to make any one treese whose head was 
at his mercy." — Mr, Ramsay's Journal, 

X The following observations on the present state 
of Egypt are extracted firom Mr. Ramsay's Journal ; 
I have substituted them for my own, which Were 
nearly to the same effect, though shorter and less 



out of ddtivaiion^ villages ue deserted, houses 
fiiUiniif to rain, and the people disappearing. 
- ** He tasoes all the means of induttiy imd 
of its improvement, and then taxes the pio- 
doct. Irrigation is the gpreat means of culti- 
vation and fertility ; ' he therefore charges 
fifteen dollars* tax upon every Persian wheel ; 
and, as the people ean find a way of avoidinj^ 
it by manual labour, raising the water in a 
very curious way by Ihe pole and bucket, he 
lays a tax of seven dollars and a half even on 
mat simple contrivance. 

'* H» then, in the character of universal 
land-proprietor in his dominions, orders what 
crop shall be sown, herein consulting his own 
interest solely, in direct opposition to that of 
his people. He settles the price of the crop, 
at which the cultivator is obliged to sell it to 
him, for be can sell it to no one else ; and, if 
he wishes to keep any himself, he is obliged 
to buy it back from government at the new 
rate which the Ptoha has fixed for its sale, of 
course, many per cents clearer than when he 
boucfbt it. Numberless are his little tricks for 
saving money ; e. g. when he has to receive 
money, it has always to be paid in advance ; 
taxes, particularly, he collects always just 
before tne plague breaks out, so that, though 
the. people die, he has their mone^; in pay- 
ing the ixoap* and others, it is vice versa ; 
he pays after date, and gains also upon the 

'* Wo have heard much at home of the re- 
lecming enlightened spirit of Mohammed Ali, 
but wluit is it founded on ? it k)oks more like 
a great and sudden blase before the whole is 
extinguished and falls into total darkness; 
apd whether this is to happen at his death or 
before, seems the only quoition : it 8eems> not 
to be fw distant j Lul year he had no money 
(ind he pushed hard for it) to pay his troops 
aii4 dependents, and this year he will have no 
moss than- he had last. 

**He has forced the riches of the country 
ptematurely, and to ao extent they could not 
bear, at the same time removing the means of 
their reproductien, and thus he has procured 
the present means of prosecuting the really 
wonderful, and what, in other circumstances, 
would havo been the useful and beneficial im^ 
prove^ents and institutions, which we have 
heard so much of, and which certainly strike 
a. traveller much." 

Eactmi of Mohammed AU*8 Dominions, 
One word more, however, about Mohammed 
AAi:— few. in England seem to be aware how 
vast his dominions really are ; nominally the 
Pasha of Kgypt, he is supreme in Nubia, 
Dongola, Sennaar, to the borders of Abyssinia; 
the Hedjaz, the Peninsula of Mount Sinai, 
Palestine and Syria, and Asia Mi nor south of 
Mount Taurus, pay him tribute and obey him ; 
ai\d even the desert-dwellers as far as Pal- 
myra stand in awe and respect him. But it 

is not mere extent of dominion that gives an 
abiding niche in the temple of history ; he 
sits on the throne of Zenobia, but who wHl 
remember his name a hundred years hoice ? 


Whose domains we seemed bow to have 
invaded, resembles in general appearance an 
immense hog; twelve feet and a half long, 
six feet and a half high, girth eight feet and 
a half, and of the weight of half a dozen 
bullocks ; its body is smooth, and there is 
no hair seen except on the tips of the earsr 
and the extremity of the tail. The horns of 
concreted hair, the foremost curved like a 
sabre, and the second resembling a flattened 
cone, stand on the nose and above the eye ; 
in the young animals the foremost horn is 
the longest, whilst in the old ones they are 
of equal length, namely, a foot and a halfcff, 
more : though the older the rhinoceros the 
shorter are its horns, as they wear them by 
sharpening them against the trees, and by 
rooting up the ground with them When in a 

When the rhinoceros is quiefiy pursuing 
his way through his favourite glades of 
mimosa bushes, (which his hook^ upper 
lip enables him readily tO seize, and his 
I)owerful grinders to msstioate)^ his horts 
fixed loosely on his skin, make a clapping 
noise, by striking one against the other; 
but on the approach of danger, if his quick 
ear or keen scent make him aware of the 
vicinity of a hunter, the head is quickly 
raised, and the horns stand stiff, and ready 
for combat on his terrible front. 

The rhinoceros is often accompanied by 
a sentinel to give him warning, a beautiful 
green-backed and blue-winged bird, about 
the size of a jay, which sits on one of his 
horns. When he is standing at his ease 
among the thick bushes, or rubbing himself 
up against a dwarf tree, stout and strong 
like himself, the bird attends him that it may 
feed on the insects which either fly about 
him, or which are found in the wrinkles of 
his hecKl and neck. The creeping himter, 
stealthily approaching on the leeward side, 
carefully notes the motions of the sentinel- 
bird ; for he may hear though he caimot 
see the rhinoceros behind the leafy screen. 
If the monster moves his head slightly, and 
without alarm, the bird flies from his horns 
to his shoulder, remains there a short time, 
and then returns to its former strange perch; 
but if the bird, from its elevated position 
and better eyes, notes the approach of dan- 
ger, and fles up in the air suddenly, then let 
the hunter beware ; for the rhinoceros in- 
stantly rushes desperately and fearlessly to 
wherever he hears the branches crack. 

Thick and clumsy though the legs of the 



ikiooceros ore^ yet no 91m can hop^ to es- 
cape hiai by floetnesa of foot on op«(i 
ground; once he Iwm a Bian fairly in hi» 
vickad eye> and ther^ is no broken ground 
or bush for concealment, destruction is cer^ 
tain. The qionster, snorting and uttering 
occasionally a abort fiendisk scream of rage;, 
bears down in a cloud of dusty tearing up the 
ground with bis curved plough-share, kick- 
ing out }d9 hind legs in a paroxysm of pas- 
sion) and thrusting his horns between th# 
traaibling legs of his flying victim, h/e hurls 
bim into the air as ijf he if ere a rag, and the 
poor wretch falls many yards oif. The 
brute now looks about for him> and if there 
is the least xnovement oi life, he runs at 
him, rips him opep» and tramples, him to a 
snunmy 1 


"Tell me a rhinoceros story,'* said I to 
oud Jan, the best story-teller of the party, 
and handing him at the some time a well- 
filled stone pipe ; and> after a few satisfac^ 
tory whiffs, he commenced : — 

" Ooce on a time my father took his sons 
out to hunt ; he had only a gun, and we had 
assegaes and knives. At first we were very 
unsuccessful ; we found nothing till the se- 
cond day ; we were very hnngry, when we 
came on a rhinoceros. The old man sooa 
wounded it in the leg, and he then told us 
to throw stones at it, to make the wound 
irorsei. You know how Namuquas can 
throw stones ; so we crept upon the rhino- 
ceros, followed it, and threw stones ^th 
such effect, that at last it lay down from 
pain. I being armed with a knife, then ap- 

Ciched it from behind, and commenced to 
string it, while my elder brother, who 
T» now dead, Cobus, remarkable for two 
strange rings round his eyes, tried to climb 
over the back of the rhinoceros, to thrust 
bis lance into his shoulder (it would have 
been very dangerous to have gone up to iti» 
shoulder on foot); he had just begun to 
dimb, when the rhinoceros rose suddenly 
with a terrible blast or snort, and we all ran 
off as fast as we could to a tree, and there 
held a consultation about our further pro- 

** We had not been long at the tree, when 
the rhinoceros observing where w^ were, 
rushed towards us with his horns at first in 
tlie air, and then as he came near, he tore up 
the ground with them. We scattered our- 
selves before him, when Cobus, getting into 
a passion, stopped short in his flight, called 
the rhinoceros an ugly name, and turned and 
faced ii The rhinoceros, astonished at 
this unexpected manoeuvre, also stopped and 
stared at Cobus, who then commenced call- 
ing out loudly and abusing the monster ; it 
now seemed to be seized with fear, for it 
sidled off, when Cobus, who had a heart like 
a lion's, and was as active as an ape, imme- 

diately pomied the vUnocerot, aeized the 
tail, sprung with its aasistanca on its backy 
rode it well, and plunging his assegai deep 
into its shoulder, it fel^ and was despakhed 
by the rest of us." 


Henrick Buys was in the field hunting 
springboks, and having wounded one in the 
leg, he followed it on the spoor with two or 
three other men in company. They were 
coming up with the game, when they crossed 
the fresh track of a rhinoceros, and shortly 
afterwards feaw a large black male in a bush. 
Henrick immediately "becrept" him, and 
with his long elephant rifle ne inflicted a 
severe wound on his fore leg. The rhino- 
ceros charged, 'the men fled, and the mon- 
ster singling one of them out, closely pur- 
sued him, when the man stopping shorty 
whilst the horn of the rhinoceros was plough- 
ing up the ground at his heels, ana dexte- 
rously jumping to one side, the rhinoceros 
missed him and passed in full career, and 
before the brute could recover himself and 
chana^e his course, the whole of the party 
had got up into trees, whilst the limping 
rhinoceros was trying ki man to hunt the^ 
out by the smell. 

The Bugbear in ''Jack and the Bean- 
stalk,'' according to our Scotch edition of the 
story, says, 

" Snouk'bat aiidBnonk ben, 
I find the smell of earthly men/* 

and so now seemed the limping rhinoceros 
to snouk or hunt about like a dog for his 
victims. One of the men, named Arasap^ 
and armed with an assegae, said to his com- 
rades, " Why are we all here doing nothing 
—shoot! shoot!'* 

** Well,'* said Hendrick, " if you are in a 
harry to shoot without waiting for the po- 
per time, here is my powder.horn and ball- 
belt for you, and my gun is at the bottom of 
the tree.*' 

Accordingly, Arasap descended from his 
tree, loaded the gun, and approaching the 
rhinoceros, he fired, and wounded him 
severely, but not mortally, in the jaw ; 
the bull was a leaden one, it did not break 
the bone, but was flattened against it, and 
stunned and dropped the animal. 

The hunters now collected round the rhi- 
noceros, thinking that it was incapable of 
rising again ; and Arasap, in the pride of 
his heart, was directing the rest how to stab 
him with the best effect, with their assegaes, 
in different parts, when the beast, beginning 
to recover, spurtledor kicked with his legs, 
and Henrick, calling to the men to run for 
their lives, he set them the example, and 
swift-fdbted like Camilla, he scoured the 
plane, and was soon out of danger. The 
rhinoceros started up, sinded out the unfor- 
tunate Arasap, and with ears erect, and 
screaming and snorting with ruge, he thun- 



dered after Idm. Anmpt Ming tl»t lie 
was anaUe to oninm hinii tried the tame 
trick with which the other hunter had ano- 
eeeded ; that b, he stopped short, and hoped 
that the rhinoceros wonid pass him ; the 
bmte was not to be baulked a eeoond time^ 
bnt catching the doon^ed man on his horn, 
under the left thigh (which was cat open as 
if an axe had been used), he tossed him a 
dozen yards into the air. 

Arasap fell facinff the rhboceros, and with 
his legs spread ; tne beast rushed at him, 
ripped up his abdomen to the ball-belt, and 
again threw him aloft. Henrick looked 
round, and saw Arasap like a jacket in the 
air. He fell heavily on the ground; the 
rhinoceros watched his fall, and running up 
to him, he trod upon him and pounded him 
to death. Arasap expired with the Nama- 
qua exclamation of surprise and fear on his 
Bpy^Ksey! eisey!** 

After this tragedy, the rhinoceros limped 
qIF to the shelter of a buMh. Henrick and 
the others crept up to destroy him. He 
dashed out again, and would have caught 
another man, had it not been for a dog 
which came in the way barking. In turn- 
ing short after the dog, the half-broken 
b<we of the rhinocerofi. snapped — it fell, un- 
able to recover itself, and was immediately 
shot dead I— Alexander's Expedition, 

Look into life, and watch the growth of the 
soul. Men are not what tiiey seem to the 
outward eye— mere machines moving about 
in customary occupations — productive la- 
bourers of food and wearing apparel— slaves 
from mom till night at task-work set them 
hf the wedth of nations. They are the 
chHdren of Ood. The soul never sleeps — 
Hot even when its wearied body is heard 
snoring by people liring in the next street. 
All the souls now in this world are for ever 
awake ; and this life, believe us, though in 
moral sadness it has often been rightly called 
so, is no dream. In a dream we have no 
wUl of our own, no power over ourselves ; 
ourselves are not felt to be otirselves ; our 
familiar friends seem strangers from some 
far-off country ; the dead are aKve, yet we 
wonder not ; the laws of the physical world 
are suspended, or changed, or confused by 
our uhantasy ; intellect, imagination, the 
moral sense, affection, passion, are not pos- 
sessed by us in the same way we possess 
them out of that mystery : were life a dream, 
or like a dream, it would never lead to hea- 
ven. Again, then, we say, look into life^ 
and watdi the growth of the soul.. In a 
world where the ear cannot listen without 
hearing the clank of chains, the soul may 
yet be as free as if it already inhabited the 
skies. For its Maker gave it libbbtt op 
CHOioB OF oooD OB OF BTiL— and if it has 

choaeA the good, ii i»<nfig. AH its fSr 
cultief are then fed on thmr appropriate 
food, pforided for them in nature. The 
soul th^ knowa where the neoesfaries and 
the luxuries of its life grows, and how Uiey 
may be graQiered — ^in a still sunuy region, 
inaccessible to blight—^' no' nnildewed ear 
blasting his wholesome brother. "-*-iMac^ 

In Coekpeld, Suffolk, there is net a single 
wild pr im ros e to be (bund : while the hedge- 
lows in the extreme boundaries of the conti- 
guous parishes, appear decorated in the pio- 
per season. The viUagert declare, that in the 
atal soil of Gockfield, the modeat prionose 
sickens and dies, whatever attention may be 
paid to its culture.— W. 6. C. 

In Wilkin's Leges Saxon, given by Dr. 
Henry, in hb History of Kog^nd, are the 
prices of various articles in England, in the 
leign of Sthehed, about 997. *&« foUowiog 
u the value ot the undermentioned, in money 
of the present time : — A man or slavey 
2/L 16«. Zd.i aJiorse, U 15#. 2<^; a mare or 
colt, \LS$,bd\ an ass or mule, 14f . id. ; an 
ox, ^i, ^d, ; a cow, 6#. 2<f. ; a swine, 1#. \0\d,-t 
a sheep, ]#. 2<;. ; a goat, 4JU/.--W. CI G. 

The following acomnt of the method the 
natives adopt in preparing the mortar u«ed in 
the buildinii^ at Algiers, is given by Pananti, 
in his description of that city : — This compo- 
sition, to which the natives give the name of 
Tabbi^ consists of two puts wood-ashesy 
three parts lime, and one part sand. When 
they have well mixed these ingredients toge- 
ther, thcnf throw in a quantity of oil : after 
which, the whole is beat for three days and 
nights without intermission, by which time 
it has attained the proper consistence. After 
being used in building, it becomes harder 
than marble^ and is impermeable to water. 

A SoiOer (U Anekar.r-~A milit«7 oflBcer, 
who most oordiaUy detested the halberds, 
was used, as a substitute forfUigging, to 
expose delinquents upon parade with a, 
lai)^ iron bomb^shell attadied to one of 
their legk One day, whej^ several men were 
undergoing the pimiahment, a sailor, who 
by chance had strolled near, called out to his 
companions— '' My eyes, shipmatea! only 
just look here — I'm Uest if here isn*t a 
sodger at anchor.' ' C. S. 

Men in general are^ in their mental 
natures, composed prel^ much like the 
air they breathe: aeventv-nine parts in a 
hundred are nitrogen, or the neum quality, 
neither good or evil ; twenty parts oxygen, 
or positive good ; and one part carbonic aciidy 
or positive eviL 

LONDON: Primtsd tmdyMithed hyJ, JUMBIRD, 
143, Stramd. (uaar Sominet Boute) ; amd tdd km 
aU BtHfktelUM tmd Ntwrnm-^Ammt te PJMI8, 
O, m, M, REYNOLDS. Frmek^Bi^iMh, amAAm*- 
Heam lAhrwry, S&, JIm Amm SL jfMwfM.— ie 

€^t iMittot 


No. 913.] 

SATURDAY,. SEPTEMBER 22, 1838. [Pa,c« 2d. 



As it is in contemplatioD to establish a Set- 
tlement in New Zealand, by a chartered Com- 
pany, and the subject having latelyengrossed 
much attention, we have given a Plan of the 
Harbour of Hokianga ; and intend to advert 
again to these interesting islands. 

Hokianga (Cook's Disappointment Har- 
bour) is situated twenty-four leagues south- 
east from Cape Maria Van Dieman. ** The 
approach to the harbour,*' says Mr. Pollock, 
** is narrow and intricate, and not to be at- 
tempted with a ship drawing more than four- 
teen feet water, unless well acquainted with 
the harbour, which is navigable nearly thirty- 
five miles from its entrance: a number of 
rivers and creeks of fresh water join this noble 

'* lliere are about one hundred Europeans 
settled at Hokianga, including the mission- 
aries. Several of the settlers are mairied to 
Eucopean females, who, without exception, 
have set an example to the native women, 
that has in no minor degree aided the useful- 
ness of the Wesleyan brethren, who have 
been successful in their missionary exertions 
throughout their districts. Unfortunately, a 
war broke out in Hokianga, in 1H37, on the 
subject of a religious dispute, between those 
who placed themselves under the banners of 
the Wesleyan missionaries and some new ido- 
laters, who term themselves disciples of 
P&piChurihia, and who teach the people that 
the missionaries are cheats. A native cate- 
chist of the Wesleyan mission went forth to 
preach among the natives, who were averse 
to the doctrines of the mission. The young 
preacher was desired not to advance, but to 
leave the settlement. This advice he disre- 
garded, and, in stepping forward, was shot 
through the body. Some fighting was the 
consequence, in which the idolaters sufiered 
the most, who agreed to a treaty of peace, 
and promised to sin no more '' * 

The Chart exhibits the localities of the 
chapels and preaching-places as numbered, 
belonging to the mission; and the beau- 
tiful spectacle is presented of the light of di- 
vine truth efficaciously dispersing from these 
recent wilds of heathenism, the darkness of 
idolatry ; and the voice of prais^ and thanks- 
giving to a revealed God, succeeding to the 
fell war-hoop and cannibal dance of savages. 
This interesting colony owes an immense 
deal to the self-denying labours and zeal of 
the Church Missionary Society, which is 
watching over the welfare of this remote re- 
gion of the earth with maternal Folicitude, 
that the rapacity of commercial enterprise 
in&y not altogether destroy the principles of 
our holy religion, which the missionaries 
have assiduously inculcated for several years, 
amidst unparalleled difficulties. '< Your 
committee," says one of the last reports of 
* Pollock's Travels iu Nev Zealand, vol. u. pp. 63, 64. 

the society, '< cannot dose their statements 
without adverting to the peculiar situation 
of New Zealand) as it is regarded by the 
public at large. What events may await 
this fair portion of the globe; whether 
England will regard, with a sister's eye, 
so beautiful an island, placed like her- 
self in a commanding position, well har- 
boured, well wooded, and fertile in re- 
sourses; whether this country will so 
stretch forth a vigorous and friendly arm, 
as that New Zealand may, with her native 
population, adorn the page of future his- 
tory, as an industrious, well-ordered, and 
Christian nation, it is not for the committee 
to anticipate; but this consolation they do 
possess — they know that the society has, 
for twenty years, done good for the natives, 
hoping for nothing again ; — nothing, saving 
the delight of promoting glory to God and 
good-will among men. The society has 
sent its heralds of peace and messengers of 
salvation, and has contracted thus such an 
obligation towards those whom it has sought 
to benefit, that your committee are coo- 
strained to lift up their voice on behalf of 
that island, and to claim that no measures 
shall be adopted towards that interesting 
country whicn would involve any violation oi 
the principles of justice on our part, or of 
the rights and liberties of the natives of New 


^ATXJBi, how fait thou art ! — there ia no blot 

Up<m thy foce, where all serenely smiles ; 

Aud to the soul whom never vice beguiles. 
There is no joyless land, nor darksome spot : 
Thou smilest alike on palace as on cot. 

Imparl est beauty to earth's perfltmed isles ; 

And, wliere the cloud moves on in playful wiles^ 
Tliere is no place where huppiness is not. 

If earth is glad, how should its tenants be ? 
Repiuiug at the present or the past ? 
Viewing some lightning flasli or thunder-blast 

In every trial, at wliose frown doth flee 
Hope from the soul ? No 1 rather man caress 
The joys thou liast, than pue for those thou can'st 

not press 1 £. J. Httch. 


The blood swells through thy sllver.mane, 

Aud down thy panting side ; 
No more those hoofr shall spurn the plain. 

That broad chest cleave the tide ; 
No more, as flies the swift i^erreed, 

Shalt Uiou the giaour pursue : 
My trust for safety was thy sp eed -— 

My trust for vengeance too I 
No more, my barb, at Zelia's call, 

Shalt thou to meet her spring — 
No more my boys their reinless thrall 

Sluill gallop at the ring. 
Curse on the S|K>il 1 -what worth to me 

Is every plundered gem ? 
My household, when they ask f<» Uiee, 

How shall I answer them ? 
Though wealth to buy a hundred steeds 

Weighs down by caftan's fold. 
Not 'mid Morocco's choicest breeds. 

Not in the Tartar's fold. 
Is there one steed, however fleet. 

Could be to me as thou ? 
The music of whose trampling teet 

No more shall cheer me n«Sw. J. B. 




TION.— No. III. 

Mt last paper was occupied with instances 
of spontaneous combustion^ as introductory 
to tne subject of spontaneous human com- 
bustion. Since then I have observed in the 
newspapers the following case of spontane- 
ous combustion, not in the human subject, 
which is quite to our purpose. — " A fire 
lately broke out at Englefield Green, 
in « dog-cart, (well loaded with old rags 
and bottles,) belonging to a man named 
Knowles, a general dealer from Windsor. 
One of the bottles (which it is supposed 
must have contained vitriol) broke ; and the 
cart was quickly in a blaze. The dog, na- 
turally frightened at the circumstance, ra^i 
off, and proceeded across the green to a con- 
siderable distance, before it could be stopped. 
The poor animal was, fortunately, not in- 
jured ; but a portion of the cart, and the 
whole of its contents, were destroyed." It 
will be seen that, in this account, the origin 
of the fire is attributed to vitriol, which is 
not likely to be correct : because oil of 
vitriol (sulphuric acid) is of a corrosive 
nature, people think it is inflammatory, but 
it is not. It will turn ra^s black, but it will 
not set them on fire. It is much more likely 
that nitric acid {apia /ortis, as it is com- 
monly called) and oil of turpentine, from 
some of the old bottles, accidentidly came 
into contact, and produced the catastrophe. 
I noticed, in my last, the effects of nitric acid 
on essential oils. If it be added to oil of 
turpentine, the whole will instantly leap into 
a flame ; but the experiment should be per- 
ibroned, with great caution, in the grate of a 
fire-place, in order that the fierce fumes 
and volumes of smoke which are given out, 
may be carried up the chimney. The oil of 
turpentine may oe placed in a saucer, and 
the nitric acid added by means of a long 
ladle, 80 that the experimenter may keep at 
a distance. 

Let us come, now, to those cases of com- 
bustion, which have occurred spontaneously 
in the human stU^ect. One of the most 
remarkable is that of Cornelia Bandi, Coun- 
tess of Cesina, an Italian lady, sixty-two years 
of age. Having felt particularly drowsy, one 
evening, she retired to bed earlier than usual, 
and her maid remained in her room till she 
fell asleep. On the following morning, when 
the girl entered the apartment for the pur- 
pose of awakening her mistress, a dreadful 
spectacle presented itself, for she found the 
remains of the Countess's body in a most 
horrible condition: at the distance of four 
feet from the bed, was a heap of ashes, in 
which the head, legs, and arms of the unfor- 
tunate lady could alone be dii<tinguished. 
The head lay between the lower extremities, 
from which it must be inferred, that the 
(IkumteM perished while in a sitting posture. 

The back part of the skull, the whole of the 
brain, and the chin, were entirely consumed ; 
three of the fingers were leducad to a state 
resembling that of charcoal ; but, with this 
exception, the aims, as well as the legs, were 
not injured ; the rest of the body was reduced 
to ashes, which, when tuuched, left upon the 
fingers a greasy moisture, having a fetid 
odour. A moist kind of soot, of the cotour of 
ashes, covered the furniture of the room, and 
the tapestry. It had even penetrated into 
the drawers, and soiled the linen which they 
contained. There was no unusual derange- 
ment of the bed, the clothes being thrown on 
one side, as is the case when a person gets 
up. Two caudles and a small lamp were in 
the room ; and it is very important to notice 
their condition : the candles (which had been 
placed on a table near the bed) were melted, 
and the feet of the candlesticks were covered 
with moisture, but the wicks remained uncon- 
sumed ; the candles, therefore, were not 
burnt, but melted. The lamp, which stood 
on the floor, was covered with ashes, and 
contained no oil. It is also deserving of 
remark, that this lady was accustomed to 
bathe herself with camphorated spirits of 
wine ; and some are disposed to think that 
her body became impregnated with these 
highly inflammable substances. This ease 
was communicated to the Royal Society, by 
Dr. Mortimer, and will be tbund in a paper 
published in the *< Philosophical Trausac- 
^ons " tor the year 1745. 

A case still more remarkable than the pre- 
ceding, and equally well attested, is that of 
Dun 6io-Maria Bertholi, who lived in Mount 
Volere, in Italy. In the year J 776, he went 
to the fair at Filetto ; and after having walked 
about all day, retired in the evening to the 
house of his brother-in-law, at Fenile. Im- 
mediately on his arrival, he requested to be 
shown to his apartment; and, when con- 
ducted to it, had a handkerchief spread over 
his shoulders, beneath his shirt. He was 
then left to his devotions ; but a few minutes 
had scarcely elapsed, before a noise, mingled 
with cries, was heard in the roomj the people 
of the house rushed in, and found the priest 
extended on the floor, and surrounded by a 
lambent flame, which retired as they ap- 
proached, and ultimately disappeared. Next 
morning, Joseph Battaglia, a surgeon, resid- 
ing at Poule Basio, was called in, and found 
the skin of the right arm loosened from Aie 
flesh, and hanging down ; that part of the 
back which is situated between the shoulders, 
was in the same state, and so were the thighs. 
That part of the arm which had sustained 
most injury, appeared in a state of incipient 
putrefaction ; and next day, in spite of the 
active measures which the surgeon adopted, 
it was completeljr mortified. By the next 
day, the mortification had extended \o all the 
injured pacts ; and the patient was tormented 



with thirst, fever, vomiting, convulsiona, and 
delirium. On the fourth clay, he fell into a 
state of stupor, and after it had lasted two 
hours, expired. The surgeon observed, at the 
last visit he paid before the death of the 
patient, that putre&ction had already made 
considerable progress. The nails had become 
loosened from the left hand $ the body exhaled 
an insufferable odour; and worms crawled 
from it on the bed. 

The account which the patient gave of this 
attack was, that he felt a blow (as if inflicted 
with a cudgel) on his right hand, and, at the 
same time, saw a bluibh flame attack his 
shirt, which was immediately burnt to ashes, 
with the exception of the wristbands, which 
remained untouched. The handkerchief al- 
ready spoken of was not injured; but his 
nightcap was consumed, though his hair was 
not touched. There was no empyreunuitic 
smell in the room, nor any appearance of 
smoke ; there was no fire in the room, except 
that of a lamp, which (though it had been 
full of oil) was now dry, and its wick reducMl 
to a cinder. It should also be recorded that 
the night was calm, cool, and clear. The 
reader cannot have iailed to remark how much 
the sudden blow complained of, and the blue 
flame seen, resemble the shock and the spark 
of electricity ; and it is, therefore, a case very 
much relied on by those who ascribe the 
phenomena we are describing to an electrical 
origin. The case is also remarkable on 
account of the time which the sufferer sur- 
vived after the catastrophe, so as to be able to 
give an account of the manner in which he 
was attacked. 

But these cases, it will be observed, took 
place on the Continent. The following oc- 
curred nearer home : —Between twelve and 
one o'clock, on a Saturday night, Anne 
Nelis, wife of a wine and porter-merchant, 
living in South Frederick- street, Dublin, 
let in her husband, who had been out at a 
party. Both were in a state of intoxication ; 
and, after some altercation had taken place 
between them, Mr. Nelis went up stairs to 
bed, but in a few minutes came down again, 
to request his wife to accomi>any him ; — ^an 
invitation which she positively declined. 
Upon this he took away with him her can- 
dle, observing, that if she was determined to 
sit up, she should do so in the dark. Ou 
the following morning the maid-servant, 
baring opened the windows of the back-par- 
lour, observed in the arm-chair in which 
Mrs. Nelis usually sate, something which 
she at first sight imn^ined to have been put 
there by young Nelis, (who at the instant 
entered the room,) for the purpose of fright- 
ening her. Upon closer examination, how- 
ever, it turned out to be the remains of her 
mis^ess, who was found in the following 
state.— She was seated in the chair, at a 
difitanee from the grate, (the fire in which 
appeared to have burned out,) with her head 

resting upon her right hand, and leaning 
against the wall behind. The trUnk of the 
body was burned to a cinder, as were also 
the clothes which invested it ; but the peine 
region, the lower and upper extremities, ahfl 
such portions of her dress as covered these 
parts, sustained no injury. Her face hnd a 
scorched appearance ; but her hair, and the 
papers she had put in it, had entirely es- 
caped. The back and seat of the chair hnd 
not suffered ; but its arms were charred oa 
the inner side, and were in contact with the 
body. With the exception of this part of 
the chair, the combustion had not extended 
to surrounding bodies. The room was filled 
with a penetrating and offensive odour; 
which was perceptible after the lapse of 
several days. This woman was about forty- 
five years of age, of low stature, having t 
tendency to corpulency, and a confirmed 
drunkard. Strange to say, there was noin- 

J^uest; and such was the anxiety of the 
amily to hush up everything connected with 
the occurrence, that a request made by Dr. 
Tuomy, (who was then Professor of MedT- 
cine in the School of Physic,) for permission 
to examine the body, was denied. The pnb- 
lie in general, and the medical world in 
particular, are indebted to Dr. Apjohn, the 
highly accomplished Professor of Chemistry, 
in the Royal College of Surgeons in Ireland, 
for the foregoing particulars, which he had 
great difficulty in collecting. 

The same gentleman has also investigated 
the following case, which first appeared in 
the <* Methodist Magazine** for ]8()9, as re- 
lated by Mr. Wood, a Wesley an minister, 
then residing in Limerick. Mr. O'Neill, 
keeper of the « Five Pounds Almsr House," 
in the city of Limerick, was awakened 
about two o'clock in the morning, by a per- 
son knocking at his room-door ; upon wnich 
he arose, and having inquired who knocked, 
opened the door ; and going with the per- 
son who had called him into his apartment, 
(which was situated under a room occupied 
by a Mrs. Pocock,) he found a dead body 
lying on the ground, bammg with fire, and 
red as copper, baring dropped down from 
the room above, which was on fire. Oa 
examining this room, he saw a large hole, 
the sise of the dead body, burned through 
the boards and ceiling. He instantly ran 
up stairs ; and haring burst open the door 
of Mrs. Pococke*s room, saw, in the middle 
of the floor, the hole through which the 
body had fallen. Haring, with assistance, 
quenched the fire about the hole, he endea- 
voured to ascertain by what means the body 
had taken fire, but could not discover any. 
There was no candle or candlestick near 
the place ; nor any fire in the grate, except 
what was raked together in the ashes, m 
the way in which it is usual in that country 
to keep in the fire at night. The room was 
examined, and nothing had taken fire but 




i)iat p«ri of the floor throuj^h which the 
wretehed woman had falien. £Ten a small 
baijket, made of twigs, and a xmall trunk of 
dry wood, which lay near the hole, escaped ; 
not being so much as touched by the fire. 
Next day, this remarkable catastrophe was 
inquired into by the Mayor of Limerick, 
nod seTeral clergymen and gentlemen of the 
city. Mr. Wood, I believe, 4s still alive ; 
for it is but recently that he confirmed the 
above statement, in a letter toDr..Apjohn. 
Nor does the case rest on his testimony 
alone; for an intelligent lady, residing in 
Limerick, assured Dr, Apjohn that she per- 
sonally inspected the floor through which 
the hole was burned. The repairs under- 
gone by it, still point out the spot at which 
vie perforation took place. It should not be 
overlooked that the sufferer, Mrs. Pococke